On to part two.
CHAPTER NINE
AMANDA KNOCKED on the door of Irving’s mansion, then backed up when Caleb yanked it open. The Chosen Ones were arrayed behind him. Everyone looked anxious — except McKenna, who strode majestically into the foyer in time to scowl at Caleb for daring to perform one of his favorite butler duties.
To placate McKenna, Amanda made a show of wiping her boots on the large bristly boot brush he kept by the door and carefully handing him her coat and hat. How he kept track of everyone’s outerwear was a mystery. But he always appeared with the right coats and scarves, all looking suspiciously pressed, whenever anyone mentioned that they’d be going out.
Charisma was, not surprisingly, the first to speak. “Well? Did he agree? Will he help you get your sister back?” She bounced on the balls of her feet in anticipation.
Irving’s voice sounded from behind the Chosen Ones, slicing effortlessly through their murmurs despite its halting quietness. “This would be best discussed over dinner.”
The Chosen Ones, all dedicated to the importance of an excellent meal, followed Irving as Martha pushed him into the dining room. Irving was wheeled to the head of the table.
Amanda sat at his right hand as she had since her arrival in the house, in case he needed help cutting his meat or dealing with other motor skills that were impeded by his shaky hands.
The Chosen and their mates exclaimed appreciatively over the tapas arranged on a giant Lazy Susan in the middle of the table. There were dates wrapped in bacon, coriander-spiced almonds, spicy citrus olives, and slices of Manchego and blue cheese paired with Serrano ham and sliced pears.
Amanda knew from experience that this was only the first course. Since the Chosen Ones had moved into Irving’s home, Sunday had become the day for tapas, and no one prepared the Spanish delicacies better than Martha.
Once all the Chosen Ones were seated and had filled their plates, Samuel spoke. “Now can we know what happened with the Other?”
“Patience, Samuel, patience. Can’t you tell Amanda needs a moment to collect herself?” Irving looked sternly but affectionately at their most impatient and sarcastic Chosen. True, Samuel was less caustic since he and Isabelle had fallen in love (again), but he would always be the bluntest person in the group.
Amanda caught a glimpse of herself in one of the gilded mirrors that lined the walls. No wonder Irving thought she needed some food. She looked pale, almost ghostly, her porcelain skin stretched too tight over her cheek bones.
She made a conscious effort to relax. She hadn’t even realized how wound up she still was. Making a tiny sandwich with blue cheese and red pear on a sesame cracker, she took a bite, savoring the flavors and forgetting for a moment about the last two days.
She stiffened instantly when she heard a heavy booming knock on the front door.
McKenna glided from the room, a talent which always amazed Amanda considering what a stocky man he was. About a minute later, he appeared in the doorway, looking cross, and announced “Mr. Liam Gallagher.”
Amanda instantly figured out what had McKenna in such a tizzy. Liam had clearly refused to give up his soft leather coat to the crotchety Scotsman. The fact Liam was Irish probably wasn’t helping his estimation in McKenna’s eyes, either … McKenna was Scottish to his very bones.
The group around the table turned in unison, eager to see the Other who had betrayed Amanda.
Charisma murmured appreciatively, and Amanda could see why.
Liam looked like the handsome, dashing son-of-a-bitch that he was. His blue jeans hugged his long legs and muscular thighs, his black t-shirt fit tightly along his slim torso, and his black leather jacket looked as smooth as butter and broad across his shoulders. His black hair fell rakishly over one brilliant blue eye. He looked incredibly handsome … and incredibly uncomfortable.
Good.
Amanda let him sweat it a moment longer before rising. “Liam, won’t you come in and sit down?” She pointed to the seat on Irving’s left-hand side.
Liam collected himself, nodding at the assembled group, and sat in the proffered chair. Addressing the curious faces around the table, Liam said, “I’m sorry I’m late. I had to change into three different people to make sure that the Others assigned to tail Amanda didn’t realize it was me coming to the house.”
“What was your final shape?” Jacqueline asked.
“A pizza delivery guy. Your butler collected the empty pizza boxes when I came in the door.”
McKenna harrumphed softly. He didn’t approve of delivered foods.
Liam continued, “But it took me a minute to change back into myself.”
Rosamund looked up from her plate curiously. “Yours is a different power than I’ve researched. I wasn’t aware that the change from form to form took any amount of time.”
Liam seemed to consider whether answering this line of questioning was wise, given that he was essentially having dinner with his sworn enemies. “Well, it’s not instantaneous,” he said thoughtfully. “The farther from my own form it is, the longer it takes for me to change back. That’s why I rarely change into a woman. It takes quite a while to return to my usual shape. And the in-between isn’t pleasant-looking.”
The Chosen laughed softly.
“You can change your entire appearance merely by touching someone?” Rosamund asked.
Liam turned to regard her. “No, actually the only thing that doesn’t change is my tattoo.”
The Chosen Ones and their mates nodded.
Amanda sat up straighter.
Rosamund said matter-of-factly, “That makes sense. All of the Abandoned Ones have some sort of marking. What is your tattoo?”
“A dragon,” Liam said. “I must say it made my life in an Irish orphanage a bit more difficult. The Irish were all about dragons until Christianity came along and Saint Patrick rid Ireland of the snakes. Now, dragons aren’t seen as a particularly good omen.”
Samuel asked, “How big of a dragon are we talking here? Loch Ness-sized?”
Isabelle giggled.
Liam seemed to be tiring of the subject.
But Amanda was on the edge of her seat. She had never seen Liam shirtless, and she had had no idea that he was marked … probably because that might have given away his identity as one of the Others.
Liam sighed. “Not quite that large. But it does extend from my left hip, across my chest to my right shoulder.”
“Impressive,” Rosamund breathed.
“Yes, ma’am.” Charisma leaned forward and as if she could actually see the dragon, she ran her gaze up and down Liam’s well-shaped torso.
The guys looked chagrinned.
“Down, girls,” Irving said.
Amanda wanted let her gaze wander, too. In fact, for one moment, she did — until Liam caught her gaze, his mouth quirked, and she pretended she was staring past him.
Nice save, Amanda. He was totally fooled. Not.
Irving offered a shaky hand to Liam. “Mr. Gallagher, I am Irving Shea. Or as my friends like to call me, Old Moneybags.” As Liam shook his hand, Irving chuckled at his own joke. “Please, feel free to fill a plate. Martha is an excellent cook.”
Liam looked at Martha, whose expression showed no glow of pride or really any emotion at all.
The two studied each other until Martha said, drily, “Don’t worry. If we wanted to poison you, we would not have served everything on a Lazy Susan.”
“Right.” As McKenna came forward to grudgingly pour Liam a glass of Pinot Grigio, Liam heaped olives and almonds onto his plate.
Irving leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers together. “Mr. Gallagher, I hear you are concerned that Miss Reed’s offer of money will not be fulfilled.”
Liam had obviously been taught manners at some point in his life because he had the courtesy to look chagrined. “No, sir. Not that it won’t be fulfilled. Simply that it does not exist.” He cleared his throat. “I have never heard that you were as wealthy as the amount w
ould lead me to believe.”
Irving looked at Liam almost slyly. “My dear boy, not all of us have to use our funds to build enormous skyscrapers to show off for the devil. Some of us prefer to spend our money on good food and great wine.”
Acknowledging Irving’s dig at Osgood and his monstrous building that stretched toward the sky, Liam agreed, “I’m sure that approach brings better company.”
“Like us,” Samuel said.
“No, not you,” Jacqueline said. “But the rest of us.”
The two grinned affably at each other.
Obviously, the Chosen Ones were listening every word that passed back and forth at the head of the table.
Amanda the tried to focus on the plate of hot potato croquettes Martha had added to the Lazy Susan, but these two men who were discussing, in many ways, her and her sister’s future.
Irving nodded almost imperceptibly to McKenna, who came forward holding a slim leather briefcase. He elegantly placed it on the table in front of Irving.
Reaching towards the latches with tremor-ridden hands, Irving tried to open the case.
Liam glanced at Amanda, and she could see that he had not expected the famous Irving Shea to be so weak.
Amanda brushed her hands on her cream linen napkin, preparing to push back her chair and help Irving with this fine motor skill, one of the types they had been working hard on during his daily rehab.
But Liam beat her to it, leaning forward and flipping the latches open with one hand, covering Irving’s cold, shaky hand with the other.
“Thank you, my boy,” Irving said approvingly.
Amanda knew Irving well enough to know he had just given Liam a test, one the younger man had passed.
Liam nodded and looked at Amanda.
She realized she wore a slight, fond smile, and hastily wiped it away. No point in letting Liam think she was fond of him.
Liam turned back to the briefcase. He opened it. He stared at the stacks of twenties and fifties and hundreds. Wow. Although his lips moved, no sound came out. He stared some more.
Irving broke through his reverie. “So, are you convinced I can provide you with a payday that will make your efforts worthwhile?”
Liam picked up his fork. Carefully he cut a marinated mushroom filled with whipped feta and took a bite.
Amanda clasped her hands in her lap so hard that her knuckles turned white. The tension made her feel ill, but she whispered enticingly, “Can you smell the lavender in the fields? Can you hear the wind in the grapes? See the rolling hills of Tuscany from the desk of your villa?”
Liam glanced at her, then concentrated on his plate.
Irving weighed in, but not with enticement. With a truth that made Amanda shrivel in despair. He said, “Mr. Gallagher, we, of all people, realize that the decision you’re making is difficult. We have dealt with your boss for years, and Osgood has won many battles against us. He has found abandoned children before we could get to them. He has turned the site of the Gypsy Travel Agency’s headquarters into a monstrosity, a building filled with awful weapons and innocent people who have no idea they’re in danger. In this small but vitally important battle, we ask for your help. For your expertise.”
Liam stopped eating. He watched Irving intently, clearly assessing his current situation and the outcome of his decision. It was like the choose-your-own-adventure books, except now her life and Sophia’s life — and his life — in balance.
“I know what you have been through, Mr. Gallagher.” Irving folded his hands in front of his Meissen plate. “I know how you were treated at that orphanage and how the Others offered you a way out – a home and a job.”
Amanda stared at Irving in confusion. Liam had never shared this part of his personal history with her. When they were dating, he had merely said his parents had passed away. How did Irving know?
Irving closed the briefcase, pulling Liam’s gaze from its contents. “Only with your help can Miss Reed hope to infiltrate the Sculptor’s studio. Only with your protection will I send her there to retrieve her sister. So it’s time to choose. Loyalty or money.”
“Not loyalty or money. Almost certain death … or money,” Liam said.
“If it wasn’t dangerous, I wouldn’t pay you.” Irving pulled himself up in his chair and looked at Liam intently, his dark eyes snapping. “So, I ask again. Will you change into my form and get her inside the studio? Will you help her?”
The Chosen gave up all pretense of casual interest. The room was silent, waiting for Liam’s reply.
Amanda watched, as though in slow motion, Liam nodded and said, “All right, what’s the plan?”
CHAPTER TEN
AMANDA ALMOST — almost — jumped up and hugged Liam, and kissed him, and hugged him again.
Instead she sat on her hands and tried to calm the wild beating of her heart.
This was what she had dreamed of, hoped for. She was going to try to rescue Sophia.
No. No! She knew her “Star Wars.” She could quote Yoda.
There is no try. Do … or do not.
So … she would going to rescue Sophia. She would.
Martha brought out the second course, lemony lentil soup and mixed greens covered in goat cheese and citrus vinaigrette.
“At all times there are no less than three Others outside the house, and Amanda is constantly trailed by two when she leaves on Sundays.” Liam ate as he filled in the Chosen Ones on the location and number of Others currently assigned to Amanda and to the mansion itself.
“We’ve seen them,” John said laconically. “Should we be worried about the constant surveillance? What are their intentions?”
Amanda watched as Liam ladled more soup into his bowl, sprinkling toasted pepitas generously on top. “I don’t believe they care about you individually, per se. The idea, from what I understand, is simply to keep track of your movements outside the house.” He glanced up with a smirk. “They’ve had a hell of a time figuring out what you all do when you’re inside the mansion.”
“We drink,” Aaron said.
“We laugh,” Samuel said.
“We debauch,” Caleb said.
“We do research, too!” Rosamund looked indignant.
Everyone stared at her.
“Oh. I see. It’s a joke.” She smiled feebly … Rosamund had trouble comprehending humor.
“Velvet curtains have their advantages.” Irving remarked drily.
“Grabbing you one at a time lacks the glory most of the Others are searching for,” Liam said.
Amanda stiffened in her seat, fork poised over her salad. Grabbing her and Sophia had seemed pretty glorious for Eric and his Other cohorts.
Liam continued, “If you were to come out of the house in a big group, I think you’d have a bigger issue.”
“Which is why I won’t have any of you helping me with this rescue mission,” Amanda said.
John looked ready to jump in and contradict her, but Irving held up his hand. “Amanda is right. We cannot let our affection for her and our sympathy for her sister’s plight get in the way of our higher calling. We must choose our battles.”
When the muttering had died down around the table before he offered, Liam said, “Actually, I’ve heard a few of the Others comment that they’re not sure how you all manage to show up at locations across town without alerting the spies.”
“I guess we’re doing something right then,” Samuel mused, thinking about the tunnels Martha had shown them that they often used to get around the city to escape detection.
Martha emerged from the kitchen and loaded up the Lazy Susan for the third course: paella. As the smell of saffron and shellfish filled the room, Charisma made nummy noises.
McKenna switched everyone’s wine glass to a fresh, open-bowled Riedel filled with Sangiovese.
Amanda took a sip of the wine and let it linger on her tongue, savoring a relatively stress-free moment. The room seemed filled with camaraderie. She felt as if she were part of the Chosen Ones, and as i
f Liam was a part, also. But one thought brought her back to reality. “If there are so many Others watching us, how will we get around them and into the Sculptor’s house?”
Liam paused with a scallop halfway to his mouth. “The short answer is — we don’t.”
Isabelle delicately wiped her mouth on her napkin and cleared her throat. “I hate to cast aspersions on your plan here, but doesn’t this portion of it contain a high possibility of death?”
“Well put.” Genny turned to Amanda. “Won’t the Others outside just kill you and” — she made the sign for air quotes — “Irving … when you go outside?”
Amanda could feel her plan falling to pieces and her composure with it. If they couldn’t work out the kinks in her admittedly bare bones strategy, Sophia could be left at the Sculptor’s house until she was killed — or was forced to become like Liam, a heartless, money-grubbing Other.
Calm down, Amanda. Think. How can you escape being instantly killed when you walk out of the door with Irving?
The proverbial light bulb came on. “You’re right, Liam, we don’t avoid the Others outside. They won’t kill Irving” — more air quotes — “because they need him for whatever their nefarious purposes are…”
“…probably torture,” Liam said dubiously.
Amanda ignored him. “And they won’t kill me because I have information on the Chosen Ones that is vital and I will only give to the Sculptor himself!”
Liam raised a black eyebrow. “Really? What might this vital knowledge be?”
The table fell silent as each tried to think what Amanda could dangle in front of the Sculptor to keep her alive long enough to get into his studio and rescue Sophia.
Rosamund piped up. “She could tell them that we’ve fulfilled the prophecy by finding our mates, except for Charisma.”
Every head at the table turned to look at her. Her violet eyes grew wide behind her tortoiseshell glasses. “I shouldn’t have said that, should I? Not in front of him.” She nodded at Liam. Turning to her husband, Aaron, she glared. “This is why you should let me read during meals!”
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