Tycho Brahe Secret by Trygve E. Wighdal

Author:Trygve E. Wighdal
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-06-13T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

INNOCENCE LOST

Philip Bolghery

New Athens, NYC

March 21, 2048

Bolghery, who has been behind the dark screen, following the whole conversation between Nastassia and the Renegade leading up to his entrance to the scene, did not leave either.

That girl upsets him, he thinks. Do I not believe she’s up to the task? he asks himself as the dark envelops his secret abode where he would usually just sit, for hours, drinking an anise-and-wormwood licorice, absinthe, after another. No, it’s more fear of what she represents. If someone like her would turn to Varga’s side—many have—we’d have no chance. Funny, she’s smaller than her age, almost like an ancient child from The Prophecy Frédéric wrote about.

But, let me have another one.

He also loved to imbibe on Metaxa Ouzo, a Greek anise aperitif from the cellars of the Greek island Samos. He loved that country before the triple-cursed Winston Varga came into this world to poison it with his megalomaniacal appetites. He was tempted to turn the feed from the Renegade’s lab back on to see what’s going on, but she’d know—the kid seems to somehow know everything. But, he hated to admit, he admired her from afar as he was doing his research on the palpability of Frédéric’s Prophecy. Out of all the precogs he’s met or heard about over the years, Nastassia and Stellan Bonnet were the most reclusive, and also it seems, the most powerful. A small wonder, Varga finally got a hold of one of them. It was a miracle Frédéric and Monique had managed to shield them for so long.

He raises a glass to her health. She really has no clue about her own meaning in this world. But she’s scary as hell with her damn insights, and those eyes that see through you—they have the power of terrible destruction in them. Better not to meddle. I hope she’ll be able to see through Varga. So far he has an upper hand on her and on the whole damn world.

“I guess we’ll see. Now everything will unravel very fast,” he says aloud to himself and toasts again, to the empty space in front of him, “To the Renegade and that weirdo Starchild of his, and to Stellan we hope to find.” As long as it’s warm and there’s enough Metaxa in his storage, far, far away from any prying eyes, everything will be fine.

After Nastassia retreats to her room to peruse the first chapter from Bolghery’s book on Varga, the Renegade goes to his study and pings him.

“She’s still just a kid, Renegade,” Bolghery says, somewhat gloomily.

“The kid we need. I saw her regaining her precog skills.”

“Already?”

“In seconds, virtually. I told her to breathe and it created an avalanche in her. And that’s just the beginning.”

“I don’t know if it’s smart to poke her like that. It might look like a ruse. Be careful. She trusts you. If you lose her trust, we’re all lost.”

“I won’t. We aren’t.”

“I guess. Ping me when she’s back.”

Sympathy for the Devil

“Do I have

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