Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 105939 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105939 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
“He’s been manipulating events across multiple lifetimes,” he said, understanding crystallizing in his mind. “Not just mine. Others too.”
“Lifetimes, bloodlines, entire family trees.” Voss began packing her vials away with practiced efficiency. “The Maestro doesn’t think in terms of individual existence, Detective. He thinks in terms of patterns that span generations. Her current incarnation is just one note in a much larger composition.”
“What’s he building toward?”
“That, my dear tether widow, is a question you’ll have to ask him yourself.” She shouldered a worn leather satchel and stepped away from her makeshift stall. “Though I suspect you won’t like the answer.”
“Where are you going?”
“Away from here. Away from you. Away from the crescendo that’s building.” She paused at the mouth of the alley, her pale figure already beginning to blur into the surrounding shadows. “A word of advice, Bastien Durand—when you finally have your standoff with the Maestro, remember that he’s been composing your story for far longer than you’ve been living it. Every choice you think is yours, every moment of agency you believe you possess, has been calculated and orchestrated by a mind that views free will as nothing more than an interesting variable in an otherwise predetermined equation.”
“Voss, wait—”
But she was already gone, vanishing into the maze of back streets like smoke. He was left alone in the alley with nothing but the lingering scent of burned sage and the weight of new knowledge.
He leaned against the brick wall, his mind racing through the implications of what he’d learned. The Maestro wasn’t just another magical criminal hiding in the city’s shadows. He was something far more dangerous—a conductor orchestrating events across timelines Bastien couldn’t even comprehend, manipulating the fundamental forces that governed life, death, and rebirth.
And somehow, Bastien was central to his plans. A twinge, not quite pain, ached where his wings were . . . before. Not a sensation he felt often, but he knew it was the magic surging through the city, and his proximity to Delphine.
The level of Maestro’s puppeteering should have been terrifying, but instead he felt a strange sense of clarity settling over him. For months he’d been chasing fragments of a puzzle, trying to understand why the magical crimes in the city seemed to follow patterns that defied conventional investigation. Now he knew—they weren’t random acts of violence or greed. They were movements in a symphony that had been playing for generations.
His phone buzzed with a text message. He pulled it out, expecting an update from the precinct, but the screen showed only a number he didn’t recognize and a message that made his blood run cold:
Unknown Number:
The third movement begins. You can’t stop it. I’ll see you at the conservatory. —M
The screen went dark before he could respond, leaving him staring at his own reflection in the black glass. Behind his familiar features, he could swear he saw the ghosts of other faces—and his wings.
If the Maestro's message was true, Delphine's life hung in the balance once again.
So what choice did he have? If the Maestro truly had been orchestrating events across multiple incarnations, then running would only delay the inevitable. And if there was even a chance that Delphine was in danger, that history was preparing to repeat itself in the cruelest possible way, then he had to act.
He pushed away from the wall and started walking toward his car, his footsteps echoing in the empty alley. The conservatory was on the other side of the city, a grand old building that had been abandoned for decades after a fire gutted most of its interior. If the Maestro wanted a dramatic setting for whatever confrontation he had planned, he couldn’t have chosen better.
As he drove through the nearly empty streets, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d made this journey before. The conservatory loomed ahead of him like a Gothic nightmare, its broken windows and fire-blackened walls stark against the night sky. He parked across the street and sat for a moment, gathering what courage he could find in the face of an enemy who had been planning this moment for longer than he’d been living this life . . .after the fall.
Somewhere in that ruined building waited answers to questions he was only beginning to understand. Somewhere in those shadows lurked a creature who viewed his entire existence as nothing more than an instrument in some grand composition.
There was time before he’d need to meet the Maestro and Bastien needed to do some research. A way to stop the ritual had to be there.
This time, he would find a way to break the cycle.
This time, he wouldn’t lose her again.
The lie tasted bitter in his mouth, but he held onto it anyway. Sometimes, hope was all the weapon a tether widow had.
Sixteen
Ink residue from the graffiti nearby led Bastien through the Quarter’s twisted veins to an abandoned apothecary on Dauphine Street. Behind weathered plywood and the human graffiti tags, the building sagged between its neighbors like a drunk propped up by friends. Something had drawn magical energy here.