Page 12 of Dark Shaman: Eternal Hope (The Children Of The Gods #100)

Carol knew the feeling well. She still missed her courtesan days, and if she weren't mated, she would have jumped at the opportunity to effect change in a way only she could.

"Thank you for your honesty," she said. "All of you.

Now, let me share something about my experience.

" She tucked a curl behind her ear and took a sip of water.

"As most of you probably know, I was a courtesan for many years, and I developed these methods through trial and error, without anyone coaching me.

I was a natural at it—reading people, becoming what they needed me to be, extracting secrets along with pleasure.

The difference was that I was doing it for fun, not to change the world, but to exercise my power, not as an immortal who can thrall men to fulfill her every wish, but as a female.

Some of you will find that you're naturals at this, too.

You'll slip into roles like comfortable clothes, lose yourself in the game, and find a thrill in the deception that's almost addictive.

Others will struggle with every moment, fight against the false persona, and count the days until you can be yourself again. "

"Which is better?" Teresa asked.

"Neither," Carol replied. "Both have advantages and dangers. The naturals risk losing themselves to the game. The strugglers risk breaking cover because the strain becomes too much. You need to find balance, and that's what I'm here to teach you."

She returned to her seat. "But first, let's see what we're working with.

I want you all to observe each other for five minutes in complete silence.

No talking, no deliberate communication.

Just observation. Then you'll tell me what you've learned.

" She smiled. "People reveal a lot nonverbally if you know how to look. "

The women knew each other, which was less than optimal for this exercise, but their familiarity was superficial, and Carol was certain that hidden layers could be uncovered with focused attention.

At first, the women were self-conscious, trying to project certain images. But as the seconds ticked by, natural behaviors emerged.

Marlene's confident posture never wavered, but her fingers traced small patterns on the table—a self-soothing behavior that suggested her confidence was at least partially restored.

Teresa's analytical gaze moved systematically from person to person, cataloguing and filing information with an efficiency that spoke to years of experience.

Grace smiled several times, trying to make eye contact, seeking connection and approval even in silence. When others didn't respond, micro-expressions of hurt flashed across her face before being quickly erased.

Regina kept touching items on her body, her earring, her necklace, twisting her ring, and dropping her hands in her lap in frustration. She had a hard time controlling the physical manifestations of her anxiety despite being aware of them.

Greta sat perfectly still, her expression neutral, giving nothing away—except that such perfect control was revealing in itself. No one was naturally that still unless they'd trained themselves to be that way.

"Time," Carol announced. "Marlene, tell me about Regina."

Marlene nodded. "She touches her jewelry when she's nervous. She's aware of it, tries to stop, but the anxiety wins. She's also left-handed but tries to use her right hand as if she's right-handed. She reaches with her left first, then corrects."

"Good observation," Carol said. "Teresa, what did you notice about Grace?"

"The smile is a mask," Teresa said without hesitation. "She uses it to deflect, to seem harmless and friendly. But if you watch her eyes when she smiles, you can see that they don't always participate. She's performing happiness more than feeling it."

Grace flinched, and Carol saw hurt flash across her face before the smile returned.

"It's not criticism," Carol said gently. "We all wear masks. The point is recognizing them in ourselves and others. Grace, what did you observe about Greta?"

Grace studied the female. "She's containing something. Rage, maybe? Or grief? Her stillness isn't natural. It's a cage she's built around something that wants to escape."

Greta's jaw tightened, but that was her only response.

"Regina?" Carol prompted. "Tell me about Marlene."

Regina hesitated, then spoke quickly. "She's performing with confidence, but there's something underneath. The way she traces patterns on the table—it's like she's writing something over and over. A name, maybe? A mantra?"

Marlene's hand stilled on the table.

"And, Greta," Carol said, "what did you learn about Teresa?"

"She's cataloguing exit routes," Greta said. "Her eyes went to the door, the windows, even the air vents. She's also noting potential weapons—the letter opener on the sideboard, the heavy-looking vase. Old habits from a dangerous life."

Teresa chuckled. "University politics are more cutthroat than people realize, but I wasn't cataloging the items as potential weapons. I just pay attention to what's around me."

"You've all done well," Carol said. "You're observant, analytical, and aware of what people reveal unconsciously.

But this is just the beginning. Your targets will be trained politicians, diplomats, and power brokers.

They're used to being watched, so they know how to control what their bodies might reveal.

It will take you longer to catch them in moments when their defensive walls are lowered.

You might also be the catalysts for that. "

She stood again, this time moving to the sidebar where she'd placed a stack of folders.

"Now that you have a better understanding of the undertaking, I'm giving you a chance to reconsider.

Once we truly begin, you're in. No backing out because it gets uncomfortable.

No quitting when you realize the cost. I'll ask you again in a week, give you a last chance to withdraw, but I hope none of you will drop out.

The clan needs you, and I know each one of you has what it takes. With proper training, that is."

"What happens if we want to leave now?" Regina asked.

"Nothing. You go back to your lives with our thanks for giving the project your serious consideration," Carol said. "No judgment. This work isn't for everyone, and recognizing that about yourself is wisdom, not weakness."

The room fell silent. Carol could almost hear their thoughts—weighing desires against fears, potentials against costs.

Marlene spoke first. "I'm in."

"I'm in too," Teresa said. "My mind needs more than civilian life offers."

Grace nodded. "I've been waiting for something interesting to come up my entire long life. Maybe this is it. I'm in."

Regina's hand went to her earring, stopped, and dropped to her lap. "I'm terrified," she admitted. "But I'm more terrified of living another century without contributing anything meaningful. I'm in."

Everyone looked at Greta.

"During the war," she said quietly, "I seduced a Nazi colonel. Gathered intelligence from him for seven months. He fell in love with me, wanted to leave his wife and marry me. He wasn't a monster—he was a bureaucrat who'd gotten caught up in the propaganda."

She paused, and Carol saw her hands tremble slightly before she clasped them together.

"I got the intelligence that led to his unit being ambushed.

Seventeen men died, including him. He was holding the picture I'd given him of myself when they found his body.

" She looked up, meeting Carol's eyes. "I can still see his face when he told me he loved me.

I can still remember feeling nothing but satisfaction that my mission was succeeding. "

"And yet you're here," Carol observed.

"Because that colonel, despite not being a complete monster, was still part of a machine that was demonic.

Those seventeen men might not all have been evil, but they were enabling it.

" Greta straightened. "Perhaps if I'd gotten involved earlier, if others had realized where the rhetoric was leading and that appeasement was not the answer, millions of lives could have been spared.

I don't want to sit on the sidelines and watch the world spiral into the same hell.

If my skills can help stop that, then I'll carry more ghosts in my head. I'm in."

Carol nodded, feeling a mixture of pride and sadness. These five women were strong and brave, and they were going to pay for their sacrifice instead of being rewarded for it.

Perhaps the Fates would take pity on them and at least reward them with truelove mates.

"Then we begin," she said, returning to her seat.

"Your first real assignment is to create a persona.

Not for a specific target, but a practice identity.

Someone who could exist in Los Angeles, with a full background, habits, preferences, fears, and dreams. You have one week to become her so completely that you could wake up from deep sleep and respond as her. "

"How do we know if we've succeeded?" Grace asked.

"I'll test you," Carol said. "I'll create scenarios, challenges, situations where your real self would respond one way and your persona another. If you break character, you fail."

"And what then?" Marlene asked.

"Then we try again," Carol said. "And again. Until you can maintain a false identity indefinitely. Because in the field, failure doesn't mean trying again. It means exposure, capture, possibly death—and not just for you, but for anyone associated with your mission."

The truth and gravity of this statement settled in. These weren't games or exercises; they were preparation for operations where lives would hang in the balance.

"I'll send you each a packet tonight with more detailed instructions," Carol continued.

"Create your persona's background, but more importantly, understand her psychology.

What shaped her? What drives her? What are her unconscious habits, her tells, her dreams?

If you need help, I'm here for you. Text me, email me, call me. I'm at your disposal."

"This is intense," Regina murmured.

"This is just the beginning," Carol corrected. "Next week, we'll start working on voice modulation, body language alteration, and emotional control. You'll learn to cry on command, to project emotions you don't feel, to maintain arousal with someone you find repulsive."

Several of the women shifted uncomfortably at that last point.

"I won't lie to you," Carol said. "Some of what you'll learn will feel violating, like you're betraying your own body and mind. But these are tools, and like any tools, are morally neutral. It's how you use them that matters."

"For the greater good," Teresa said, as if reminding herself.

"Yes," Carol agreed. "The information you gather and your influence could prevent wars, expose corruption, and save lives. Hold on to that when things get dark."