arrived in the Quarter, a stranger to him. He had decided on a daring path because he had needed a fresh slant on the problem they faced in New Orleans. He had decided to play a dangerous, possibly disastrous game; to give a practitioner of talents foreign to him a chance to intermingle with the paranormal powers he was familiar with.
Desperation has pushed him to take the chance. If it was as he had always believed and these other elements were no more than myth, then there would be no benefit, but also no harm done.
He hoped.
But this new candidate was unique, and he had begun to take it more seriously that a combination of highly developed intuition, magical practices and the manipulation of minds through suggestion—voodoo in this case—might complicate the fight against the Embran. He had no way of knowing this until the two came in contact.
On the other hand, if these magical skills were real and they could complement the paranormal powers present in such advanced forms in this city, among the Millets, the Fortunes, the Montrachets and others, then the answer to winning might be moving much closer.
Once more he had lost—at least temporarily—his intermediary, a small and unusual intermediary it was true, but also an efficient one. Jude was in the processof giving another subject a trial although this one showed far too many signs of an unpredictable and selfish spirit.
But he would persevere—there must be a way for him to directly achieve small tasks involving the family and their friends. Although he found it simple to approach them as an apparition and prod the more evolved of his progeny onward, there were some things he could not do. He could not dig around where the results of his movements, if not his person, would be seen while he searched for more of the keys that were part of that damnable mechanism in the Harmony that must be dealt with.
And he had to hope that Sykes would discover the message he had sent him within the green and gold stone. If and when—if—the real angel was found, Sykes must remember that stone and realize what he was really looking for: the Harmony and the Ultimate Power.
He was bored with his one view from the dormer window in the attic. Although he would rather not admit it, even to himself, he was…well, not exactly tired of his descendants, but impatient with their slow progress.
That was wrong. They couldn’t move faster than the information revealed to them. Unfortunately he was coming to believe that parts of their history might have been lost, hidden or destroyed.
Almost worse, what if they had been robbed?
Driven by an unfamiliar agitation, Jude passed through the door that led into the attic room. He had not been at the top of the staircase leading down in front of him for centuries.
He descended very slowly, using one of his many extraordinary gifts: he could hear at great distances and clearly. Jude was, however, a gentleman in all things and did not take unnecessary liberties with his advantages.
Pascal was in the shop, in his office behind the mahogany desk to be precise. He sat at his elegant desk staring, without seeing, through the windows that gave him a vantage point on every area in the showrooms.
Jude engaged his other sight for just a moment to delight in a glance at some of the most beautiful pieces from his own day and even before. The new things, the stock from the Regency, the Victorian and the periods that became progressively uglier, did not interest him.
He cut off the sight and concentrated on Pascal again.
The man’s intense agitation surprised him. Pascal was given to histrionics but usually his spirit was calm, calculating even—although he never failed to put his surrogate family first.
Jude curled his lip at the thought of that disappointment, Antoine and his weak wife leaving Antoine’s unmarried brother to bring up their brood of five and shoulder the responsibilities of the family.
What was this with Pascal now?
It could
Desperation has pushed him to take the chance. If it was as he had always believed and these other elements were no more than myth, then there would be no benefit, but also no harm done.
He hoped.
But this new candidate was unique, and he had begun to take it more seriously that a combination of highly developed intuition, magical practices and the manipulation of minds through suggestion—voodoo in this case—might complicate the fight against the Embran. He had no way of knowing this until the two came in contact.
On the other hand, if these magical skills were real and they could complement the paranormal powers present in such advanced forms in this city, among the Millets, the Fortunes, the Montrachets and others, then the answer to winning might be moving much closer.
Once more he had lost—at least temporarily—his intermediary, a small and unusual intermediary it was true, but also an efficient one. Jude was in the processof giving another subject a trial although this one showed far too many signs of an unpredictable and selfish spirit.
But he would persevere—there must be a way for him to directly achieve small tasks involving the family and their friends. Although he found it simple to approach them as an apparition and prod the more evolved of his progeny onward, there were some things he could not do. He could not dig around where the results of his movements, if not his person, would be seen while he searched for more of the keys that were part of that damnable mechanism in the Harmony that must be dealt with.
And he had to hope that Sykes would discover the message he had sent him within the green and gold stone. If and when—if—the real angel was found, Sykes must remember that stone and realize what he was really looking for: the Harmony and the Ultimate Power.
He was bored with his one view from the dormer window in the attic. Although he would rather not admit it, even to himself, he was…well, not exactly tired of his descendants, but impatient with their slow progress.
That was wrong. They couldn’t move faster than the information revealed to them. Unfortunately he was coming to believe that parts of their history might have been lost, hidden or destroyed.
Almost worse, what if they had been robbed?
Driven by an unfamiliar agitation, Jude passed through the door that led into the attic room. He had not been at the top of the staircase leading down in front of him for centuries.
He descended very slowly, using one of his many extraordinary gifts: he could hear at great distances and clearly. Jude was, however, a gentleman in all things and did not take unnecessary liberties with his advantages.
Pascal was in the shop, in his office behind the mahogany desk to be precise. He sat at his elegant desk staring, without seeing, through the windows that gave him a vantage point on every area in the showrooms.
Jude engaged his other sight for just a moment to delight in a glance at some of the most beautiful pieces from his own day and even before. The new things, the stock from the Regency, the Victorian and the periods that became progressively uglier, did not interest him.
He cut off the sight and concentrated on Pascal again.
The man’s intense agitation surprised him. Pascal was given to histrionics but usually his spirit was calm, calculating even—although he never failed to put his surrogate family first.
Jude curled his lip at the thought of that disappointment, Antoine and his weak wife leaving Antoine’s unmarried brother to bring up their brood of five and shoulder the responsibilities of the family.
What was this with Pascal now?
It could
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