“Moving on. To answer your question, it’s unlikely they’d use an alias. The person consolidating the order could be someone who’s following the situation and wants to know what new players are jumping into the fray. Maybe to catalog who will sell services to Momar, or something like that.”
“Is that plausible?”
“In a faraway universe, a distant galaxy, maybe. For us, it’s wishful thinking. Not many people would want to check up on Momar in this way, and those who would probably wouldn’t be poking
around here. There are always surprises, but it’s not likely.”
“So you’re thinking it’s Momar, and he’ll show up to this pickup party.”
“Momar himself? Never. He would never sink so low. He would send his people, though.” She chewed on her lip, back to imagining scenarios. “I’ve been going over and over this, and this is what I’m thinking. His people have been watching the area, that we know. They’ve seen the influx of people coming to this territory. Not just animals. No, people who can hold weapons when fighting.
Now there’s a last-minute order of weapons, placed in a dark corner of the magical black market by someone who’s sophisticated enough to place an order like this and get a decent price despite their obvious need for the goods. That hints at a knowledgeable mage working with the shifters. And that is where things get sticky. They’ve probably been wondering for a while now whether there’s someone besides the purple creature with house magic helping the shifters. Someone powerful. This transaction will point to someone who’s at least knowledgeable. Power and knowledge usually go hand in hand with mages.”
“Can they find you through this alias?”
“Not even their best would be able to, no. Another hint that it was placed by someone who’s been around a while. Someone who knows how the mage system works.”
“But you’re not powerful. In magic, I mean.”
“Sebastian is. All powerful mages have minions. I am said minion. I represent his power. They will be dying to know who’s behind this.”
“So it’s one of Momar’s people,” Tristan said.
“Almost certainly.”
“They hope the power player will show up to collect the guns.”
“I’m guessing so. Under no circumstances can he go. It won’t just jeopardize our current situation
—it’ll jeopardize all our plans for the future.”
“Elliot Graves’s plans.”
She jerked her head toward him, studying him now, his easy demeanor, the knowledgeable gleam in his eyes. “Yes,” she said slowly. “His alias, yes, as it coincides with Jessie’s future plans.”
“That you are helping create for her.”
A tingling started in her chest, like butterflies on fire, spreading through her body. Her skin crawled, the feeling of danger upon her.
“That her team is helping create,” she said, trying to read that strange look in his eyes. “His alias is crafted as a dark dweller. A cunning mastermind. A mage that doesn’t directly get his hands dirty. If he pokes his head up, a great many people will line up to chop it off, and mine with him.”
“You mean the Captain’s more than just a minion. Much more. Someone who pulls strings like a marionette. A super villain in her own right. A great many people would like to get their hands on both of you, I gather.”
The air seemed to heat up between them, almost solidifying, sticky and gooey and hinting of great danger now surrounding her. But there was no one here, only Tristan. A clearly knowledgeable Tristan, who’d come from unknown origins with powerful though mysterious magic. Someone that had found his way into the fold and now held power and the ear of the leaders.
Colors seemed to dance between them, light and jubilant and energetic, so opposite to what he was saying. To the feeling of panicked dread lodged inside of her. It didn’t make sense. Usually she could count on her sixth sense to steer her in situations like this, but this time her gut and the energy in the room seemed at odds.
“There you go,” he said softly, his eyes glowing a burnished orange now. “So you do know how
to use it occasionally.”
Oh yeah, she used her brain plenty.
“What’d you do with the other set of notes?” she asked, her tone neutral, the way she always handled her work affairs. “You gave one set to Austin, and the other? The one about Elliot Graves and the Captain?”
“Clever girl, though I must say, the hints were borderline obvious.” He gave her an assessing look. “You aren’t treating me like the dangerous thing you make me out to be.”