Heretics book 3 - The Apocryphile Press

THE KINGDOM :: 291
There was no humor in that grin, though. He felt at the
empty pocket of his jacket, where the ring had previously
been, and fumed. He had originally thought these friars to be
a humorous diversion, a bunch of bumbling incompetents
that would add comic relief to his drama, but they were turning
out to be a royal pain in his ass. The Ring of Solomon
had taken him years to locate, and was the only power he
had over demons and magicians alike. He panicked at the
thought that they might tell Larch they had taken it, but he
willed himself to be calm and cross that bridge if he came to
it. Until then, he must pretend that all was normal. No one
had ever needed to be persuaded by the ring’s power, after
all. The mere sight of it—the threat of it—had been enough.
Only half a day until the final ritual brought his heroic plans
to fruition—he could bluff that long, surely.
All he needed now was a child. One child to be the ransom
for many. One lucky little boy or girl to save all children
everywhere from the evil that he himself had known all too
well.
As Larch approached the demon who was acting as chauffer
got out and opened the door for him. The magician nervously
slid into the car, facing Dane. He seemed pale and
shaken.
“What’s the matter, Larch? You look like you’ve seen a
ghost.”
“Webber died, damn you.”
“Don’t blame me, the avocado experiment was your
idea.”
“Yes, but you—” he looked away and mastered his anger.
“Two more of us wouldn’t have to.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” Dane said, silkily. “You had
a pretty ambitious program planned before we
started...working together. There’s no telling what your
ambition might have driven you to.”