I didn’t like that question, or what it implied about my future.

“I checked the containment room myself just after sunrise,” Mychael said. “And got a report from the guards on duty. At that time, the Saghred was spellbound and quiet.”

Justinius leaned back in his chair. The only sound in the room was the wood creaking.

“Then bindings aren’t enough,” he told Mychael. “We need more.”

“I’ll take care of it, sir.”

The old man’s bright eyes narrowed as he looked at me. “The Saghred’s got you where it wants you. The Nightshades want you where they can get you. And Eamaliel Anguis is your papa.”

I took a shallow breath. “That hits the high spots.”

The Saghred was also known by its pet name, Thief of Souls, which pretty much described its favorite activity of slurping souls and sometimes the bodies they came in. One of those souls trapped inside was my father—a Conclave Guardian named Eamaliel Anguis. He had been the Saghred’s protector, until the Saghred decided to turn its protector into its next meal.

“He’s in there?” Justinius asked.

I nodded.

“Has he been talking to you?”

“Sometimes. Mostly it’s Sarad Nukpana.”

Sarad Nukpana was a goblin and the high priest of the Khrynsani, an ancient goblin secret society and military order. He was also chief counselor to the goblin king, Sathrik Mal’Salin. But most of all, Sarad Nukpana was a first-rate psychopath. Nukpana and his boss wanted to get their hands on the Saghred and bring back the good old days of annihilating armies. Thanks to me, Nukpana was imprisoned inside the Saghred, but a shaman that powerful wasn’t about to let a little thing like being a disembodied soul get in the way of vengeance. He didn’t want me dead, just tormented for eternity.

Justinius took a healthy swig of whiskey. From the way my morning was going, joining him was sounding better by the second.