Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 115860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Sydney can’t print any of that. I can’t let her. Worse, I can’t even tell her why. But she’s an independent woman. More than likely, the minute I tell her to do one thing, she’ll do the opposite. I need another approach.
“So you’re glorifying the man who raped this poor woman feeding you information? Do you think she sees him as a hero?”
Sydney winces. “That’s been my objection, but Holly likes the angle that this witch was an enemy of his utopia and he dealt harshly with her. I couldn’t think of another slant.”
“Mathias is no hero.”
“How do you know that?”
I don’t dare answer. “And you know nothing about combat.”
“Admittedly.”
“The psychological game is more than half the battle. The aggressor needs the masses on his side, and if he’s in the wrong, he must lie. What if Mathias is bamboozling these magical people? What if he’s claiming to be their savior, but merely wants power for his own gain? What if he’s convinced the poor that he can lift them up, but it’s a huge ruse?” I clench my fists, barely restraining myself from pounding the desk. “And what if he raped that poor witch because she belonged to someone fighting on the right side, and Mathias knew he could crush that wizard by brutalizing his woman?”
“That angle is sexist. Are you saying a woman isn’t capable of fighting?”
“I’m saying she’s likely too smart to take on someone capable of coming back from the dead all alone. You can’t possibly think she’s the only one against Mathias’s return?”
Sydney’s head takes a considering tilt. Then she scrambles for her notepad. “You’re bloody good. This makes more sense, gives the story the balance of both sides. Much more interesting than Holly’s suggestion.”
“If I talked to your source, in addition to protecting you, perhaps we could craft a better story together.”
“Can’t.” Sydney doesn’t miss a beat, just continues jotting down notes. “I’ve told you, the poor witch is terrified. A man, especially one like you, would send her scurrying to dig her own grave. She’d never speak to me again.”
“Tell me about her. Maybe I can find some way to ease her fears. You could assure her that I would never harm her. She trusts you.”
“Very little. She jumps at every shadow. No offense, but you wear that soldier mien a bit too well. You’ll give the poor woman a fright.”
“Then I’ll talk to her on the phone first, allay her worries, and pave the way for a face-to-face meeting. For your safety, I’d rather you not meet with her again unless I’m there.”
Sydney looks up from her notes. “She doesn’t want her picture taken.”
I can’t tell if Sydney believes me or will delay meeting her source without me. Either way, I can’t lose my only lead to Anka or allow Sydney to risk herself.
“Of course not,” I assure her.
Sydney sends me a considering stare. “Convincing her will be a challenge. Besides, she’s gone for a bit.”
“With Aquarius? On holiday? Where?”
“Don’t know. Their plans weren’t set. Said something about Paris, perhaps.”
Damn it all! “I have a bad feeling. Hold off until I can be certain you’re safe. I beg you.”
“You’re overreacting. I’m in no danger; I’m just the reporter. It’s…thoughtful of you to be concerned, but I’m a big girl who’s more than capable of taking care of myself. Besides, Holly wants the next installment of this story posthaste. I have to roll with what I know.”
Tamping down my frustration, I shake my head. I must persuade Sydney to stop this story—or I fear the worst. “Where is the picture your previous photographer took of the battle aftermath? Can I have a look?”
Sydney rifles through one of the folders on her desk, then slides the image across the desk to me. “Here.”
I slide it back in front of her. “How many dead bodies do you see?”
She shrugs. “It’s too dark and grainy to truly tell.”
“More than a few?”
She hesitates, as if she grasps my point before I make it and is already looking for a way to refute it. “Yes.”
“Dozens, in fact. Wouldn’t you say?”
“It’s possible.”
“No, it’s obvious. These were men. Judging from their uniforms, many were soldiers, which means they were trained in combat. And they are dead in droves.” I pause, letting my words sink in. “After seeing this, do you imagine that if Mathias wants this story hushed, he’d have any compunction about killing you?”
Sydney doesn’t reply, but she’s giving the photo a second glance and nibbling on her lip as if she grasps my point and can’t bring herself to admit it.
“By all accounts, there was blood everywhere,” I press on. “Severed heads and limbs, multiple gunshots, and death scattered all over the place. What do you know about defending yourself against that?”
She looks all around except at me while fiddling with her pen and tapping her toes. The truth is staring her in the face.