by Livia Quinn
Her eyes flared, turning a brilliant cobalt, and her smile was sly when she answered, looking at Jack. “Why, a Dinnshencha, of course.”
I laughed.
Jack’s mouth quirked, “You make a good one. Whatever that is.”
Montana laughed. “One of these days, Jack…” She turned back to me, “Tempe, you’d better hang close. I’ve seen some hungry female predators locked on the handsome Commander.” Jack went off to get us a drink and I asked Montana if she’d seen Aurora.
“She’s over there. Sitting next to Jane.”
Across the room, dressed in the gaudiest multicolored outfit I’d ever seen, was Jane. It was styled strictly to grab attention. “That getup came straight out of the circus.”
Aurora sat at the other end, plain midnight cloth stretched over the table. She was dressed in her usual understated elegance. For the ball it was a shimmering pearlescent shift, two matching crystals dangling from her ears to touch her shoulder blades, her long black and silver hair loose and flowing, and only the amulet as decoration. The contrast between the two “fortune tellers” couldn’t have been more stark.
Aurora sent me a smile, the corner of her mouth turned up as if to say, I can’t believe I’m doing this. We knew that if not for a great cause, one near and dear to Montana’s heart, she wouldn’t have been caught dead this close to Jane Fortune. To her left in front of a backdrop of glittering stars, crescent moons and smilie suns was Jane, all two hundred and thirty pounds squished into a five-foot frame.
Jane’s dark hair was covered in a purple velvet and gold paisley turban and she’d pasted a green stone in the center of her forehead. She’d used eyeliner from her bottom lids nearly to her eyebrows making her eyes appear to be empty black holes. Her caftan was cheap purple taffeta and Jane had pulled the crisscrossed ties until the fleshy mounds of her chest threatened to tear the fabric. She was armed with all of her standard psychic paraphernalia—oversized tarot cards, a tray of candles, and a green “gazing ball” identical to one I’d seen in the garden section at Wal-Mart.
Her throat, ears and fingers were adorned with so much jewelry it was a wonder she could sit upright. Besides her name, two other obvious “tells” spoke of her charlatan status—the most visible, the line of mismatched fan bulbs encircling the poster of sun, moon and stars on the panel behind her. And most telling, the tiny red flame flickering from within the gazing ball, in the silhouette of a Christmas candle, complete with an electric cord that ran from the ball to the wall.
Yeah. Very mystical.
I looked down at the nameplate in front of Jane. “Look.” I pointed to the label. Montana snickered.
Jane’s hand-printed card read: Have your Fortune told by a real Psycho.
* * *
Tempe
“Mother of all the Gods, who is that!”
* * *
After I stopped laughing I asked, “Has anyone asked Jane for a reading?”
Montana looked irritated. “Only flower man.”
I swiveled toward her. “Dickhead?”
“Mm-hmm. They are an item.”
“Eeuw!” I said. “On second thought… maybe that works. What about Aurora?”
“She’s bringing in the cheese for the shelter,” Montana said. “This is the first break she’s had. Jane keeps trying to get Montana’s customers to give her a try but so far, no takers. I think they only take her card to keep from being seen standing near her for too long.”
“It’s a lovely costume,” I teased.
“If you care for overweight charlatan floozies. You’d think she worked for 1-900–Sex instead of 1-900–Psycho,” Montana said. “Maybe when the circus comes through this summer, they’ll take her with them.”
“I know one sheriff that would be happy to see her go,” I said.
A deep voice over my shoulder said, “I hope I’m the only sheriff you’re familiar with that intimately. Whose behind would he be happy to see on their way out of town?”
The inflection he put on the word “intimately” made me warm in the most private places, and I lost my train of thought. The promise of becoming his lover tonight hung in the wind, and menori shivered her reaction.
Montana bumped me back to the present laughing, and said to Jack, “Ms. Gaudy Fortune.”
Jack said, “True sometimes… and yet she has her uses. I would never have known about your mother’s ‘protectors’ if it hadn’t been for Jane, not that quickly.”
Montana said, “Why don’t you go donate to the cause?”
“With Jane?” I raised my eyebrows and waited for her to snicker, but she said seriously, “No, fool. With Aurora. Get real value for your contribution.”
“Hmm. I don’t know if I can stand to hear any more predictions about my future right now.” I looked at Jack, who gave me a crooked grin. “I have my own ideas of what’s going to happen in my immediate future.”
Jack’s eyes flared with heat. Good. He had the same idea. Hadn’t he said when he saw me in this dress the first time he wanted to peel it off one layer at a time? I’d intentionally added a few layers this evening, just in case, which had taken some creativity the way this gown was made.
“Be brave, sweetheart. We weathered the storms,” he winked, “of the last two weeks. What could be worse?”
“Clever play on words, Jack,” Montana said as our gazes met, hers with that sharp angled brow. It didn’t take a mindlink to understand her thoughts—he doesn’t know about Chaos? I caught myself before I answered aloud. I returned a look that meant, Please don’t open that can of worms tonight.
“I guess I can do it for your cause.”
“What is the charity?” Jack asked.
I turned to him. “Oh, I figured you knew being in law enforcement.”
Montana interrupted. “You can blame that one on me. I’m very protective of my people.”
Jack scratched his head, “Your people? Is that, like, different than Paramortals?” His voice sounded dubious.
“I’m—how would you put this?—the director, CEO, COO etc., etc. of a battered women’s shelter. My ‘people’ are the female victims of abuse. I personally respond and ‘tend to’ any instances of neglect, violence or need for my women and their children. I neither need nor want law enforcement… interference.”
Jack bristled. “I think we’re going to have to have a meeting or something—”
“I will… now that I know you… fill you in on the shelter’s mission and maybe it’s whereabouts…” She looked at me, then back at Jack, “Soon.” I suspected she meant after the Chaos. After that, it could be a moot point. Things might be radically different in Destiny. I didn’t know how, but it could certainly be missing some citizens and minus a sheriff.
Jack opened his mouth to say something and changed his mind, his demeanor relaxing as if realizing where we were once again. “All right. Let’s table this discussion for another time. You’re not breaking any laws are you?”
Montana stood a little straighter, her features becoming sharper, her eyes going cobalt again. She wouldn’t change right here would she? Jack’s eyes narrowed, but he stood his ground. “I protect women and children from predators, abusers, those who would harm them. I don’t hunt them down, as a rule, unless there are no other options.”
They stood eye to eye in a battle of wills, Montana seeming larger and taller than Jack momentarily. I wondered if that was some kind of trick like a glamour or if it was part of her nature, one that threw up a flag of warning to back off before the threat could be born. I knew Montana was not one to back down once she was in protective mode, but this was different—I hoped.
I was right. In a blink she was two inches shorter than Jack and looking up at him, she said easily, “I’ll give you some local references you can check out, Jack.” Smiling at me she asked, “Tempe, are you going to go see Aurora, or not?”
Jack tilted his head and nodded. “I’ll go get us a refill. Still soda?” he asked me. I nodded. “What abou
t you, Montana?”
“I’m fine, thanks. Come on, Temp.” She grabbed me by the arm and marched the five or six steps to Aurora’s end of the table.
“Tempe, Montana, you know Jane, I presume.” Aurora graciously included the other woman in her greeting.
Montana spoke first, “I want to thank you, Jane. I appreciate you offering your, er, expertise for the charity.”
“I’m always happy to give back, especially for a food bank, Montana.” I hiked my brows over Jane’s shoulder at my friend. Good thinking. Jane looked toward the crowd, “Oh, it looks like I’ve got a live one.” She lowered those black painted eyes to the ball and slid her hand down to the front of the globe, passing it over its inner light as if divining some celestial wisdom. “Please have a seat. How can the Sultress of Fortune help you, my dear? Palm reading, cards, your navel chart?”
The Sultress of Fortune. When a portly little man seated himself in front of Jane, Montana and I shifted to Aurora’s end of the table. “Food bank?” I whispered.
“Six letters—G-O-S-S-I-P. Wonder if he’s going to let her look at his navel?”
All three of us chuckled. “Aurora, Montana talked me into letting you do a…”
“An astral seeding?” Aurora asked. “Lovely. Have a seat, Tempe.” Montana stood, taking in the growing crowd and making sure Jane wasn’t listening in on our conversation.
Aurora took a large shallow shell from her lap and a flask of clear liquid. Pouring about half an inch into the shell, she removed one of her earrings and held it suspended above the surface. Light reflected through its facets sending sparkles across the water but oddly they didn’t extend to the table or any of our surroundings. The lights were contained within the bowl.
“You might be interested as well, Montana…” Imitating an actress with a Transylvanian accent, she said, “You vill meet a dahk, dangerrous sstrangah…”
Montana and I laughed. Aurora merely shrugged. “That was freebie. Here’s another one for you. It looks like the Chaos is going to hit by Monday. You should remind the good sheriff, Tempe. He’ll need some warning to prepare.”
I nodded. “You can’t get any closer than that?” I dreaded that conversation, but she was right. I’d have to figure out how to fit that explanation in between the ball and our other plans.
“I wish I could. This isn’t like science where each time we learn to forecast it better. As far as I can tell Cache’s orbit simply can’t be predicted… anticipated, guessed at… but not predicted with any accuracy. And now, for you.” She reached across the table and snatched some hair from my scalp.
“Ow!” I complained as she draped the teal and coppery strands across the bowl allowing it to touch the water. She tilted her head as the light flickered across it.
“You will encounter evil or… trouble from your lover’s past soon.” She frowned. “I’m not clear on the details unfortunately, Tempe. I think the coincidence is messing with my readings.”
“Obviously,” said Montana remembering Aurora’s earlier jest.
Why would I care about trouble from Dylan’s past? Unless, it had something to do with Phoebe. I remembered what Marty’d said, that he knew why Dylan and Dutch had looked at each other the way they had at the Forge before the attempted mindlink.
Aurora shrugged. “I’d better go back to reading palms. Thank you, Jack,” she said as Jack arrived and set three glasses of wine down on the table and handed me a soda. I’d decided after the trouble the small amounts of alcohol had caused me I would nix it from my drink list. Last night had been an added case in point. One glass of wine with Kat and I’d gone to bed, not budging until daylight.
“The court is about to be presented,” Aurora said. She looked back at the entrance. “They don’t even announce the identity of the king until the parade but I can usually figure it out—”
The chatter around us quieted suddenly. Montana and Jack looked over my shoulder.
Montana hissed behind me, a sound I’d never heard from her. “Mother of all the gods! Who is that?”
Chapter 22
Tempe
“Where’d he get those damn swords?”
* * *
We turned as the elder at the door called out, “Conor de Sept Flambé, Knight of his Majesty’s realm.”
Jack stiffened and muttered, “Which Majesty?”
“What realm?” I wondered aloud.
“Where’d he get those damn swords?” breathed Montana behind me. Leave it to a warrior goddess to appreciate and hone in on the most obvious feature of the newcomer’s costume.
The—it seemed lacking somehow to call him a man, though he appeared to be, but I could see why both of them had reacted to the stranger.
He wore a beautiful black and red mask, which was slightly reptilian in design, strapped around his shoulder length black hair. He was shirtless and radiated danger. There were intricate red and black tattoos that resembled bat wings across his shoulders and triceps. He didn’t need a costume t-shirt with abs painted on it. The ridges of his torso were well defined and indicated strength and discipline. Matching leather strips banded his bulging biceps and matched the jagged hemmed samurai pants floating about his muscular calves.
“Looks like someone left their video game on too long,” said Jack.
The Knight Flambé did indeed look like he’d walked straight from the Samurai Assassin video game into the Grand Ball. His boots were exquisitely tooled silver and bronze, with a belt of the same metals, which glimmered flat against his lower abdomen. When he turned to hand his invitation to the elder there was a collective murmur, and Jack made a low guttural sound.
Two long deadly looking gold and silver swords crisscrossed his back and seemed to shoot fire with each movement down their jagged twisting length. As he listened to the announcement, the knight’s hands, girded at the wrist in pewter, bronze and gold to the elbows, fisted and relaxed, making the tendons flex from elbow to chest. Whew!
Montana stood like a statue of a Valkyrie, her hands clenching and unclenching, piercing cobalt eyes locked on the figure dressed in precious metals, leather and a lot of bronzed skin. Menori reacted restlessly to the dark knight.
So did Jack. It was as if they were meeting as equals on some arena of war—not as I’d described him and Dylan—like dogs fighting over their Poodle. This was something elemental, as if they knew each other at their core. It lasted mere seconds but it was as if time during those few seconds amplified, expanded to push away all other sounds and only those of us who saw, felt, and understood, well, I didn’t understand except to know that something of impetus had passed between them.
Party sounds filtered in again from the other room and the Knight Flambé took three deliberate steps off the platform, glancing toward Montana and away. His sharp predatory gaze met each attendee briefly, and each person acknowledged his presence, like he was studying them one by one and simultaneously erasing himself from their minds. I shook my head. We’d had our share of supernaturals, but this powerful looking soldier, the sexy sword-wielding samurai warrior… was a first.
The newcomer bowed and walked deliberately through the crowd, which parted like the Red Sea to give him and his swords an unencumbered path to the bar. Montana devoured him with her eyes. She had not moved since he walked in the door. Interesting.
“Reckon that’s a costume? Or is he some kind of knight in shining armor?” I asked.
Jack said, “He doesn’t seem the type.” Turning to me he asked, “Does he seem like a good POP to you? Can you tell that kind of thing?”
I shook my head. “We’ll have to see if Aurora—oh!” I snapped my fingers and spun around meeting Montana’s eyes, hair rising on my neck when I remembered Aurora’s earlier words to her. You will meet a dark, dangerous stranger. This knight surely qualified.
What did that mean for me? My thoughts strayed to Dylan. “Have you seen Dylan around since yesterday?” I asked Jack.
“No, why? Do you think he might know somethi
ng about this… Flambé character?”
Oh, right. “Er, exactly what I was thinking,” I said quickly.
Jack’s eyebrow rose. He wasn’t buying it. His eyes widened, and he grinned, nodding toward the door, “Isn’t that the old man you saved…”
I followed his eyes. It was! Mr. Jackson had just gimped his hunched-over self through the front door. He’d stopped, turning back, just as Elder Rawlins was about to announce him. “The morning we met.” I smiled at Jack. “That’s him. I wonder what he’s waiting for—Zeus’ greasy toupee.” I couldn’t believe my eyes.
Mr. Jackson motioned for his date to hurry, holding his arm out to a small bent-over rosy-cheeked Inez Messer. “Mr. Phineas Jackson, and his lady, Inez Messer.”
“Close your mouth, sweetie,” came Montana’s voice behind me.
I was totally at a loss for words. What was going on around here? Dickhead and Jane Fortune. “Inez and Mr. Jackson? Maybe the moons are colliding,” I said to Montana, looking over at Jack. He just shook his head.
She laughed. “Hey, maybe she’ll mellow the old bird.”
As soon as Inez saw me, she tugged on Mr. Jackson’s arm and hurried toward us. It took a while. “Tempe, honey, look who asked me to the ball!” She turned to Mr. Jackson and I met Jack’s humorous expression over their heads. Stooped over like they were, they were about half his height.
“Phineas, you know Tempe, don’t you?” I cringed, knowing what to expect from Mr. Jackson.
“Nice to see you, Tempest.” He glanced at Inez and she nodded at him. He looked back at me and said, “I want to thank you for saving my life.” He seemed to get in the spirit of the thank you then, adding, “I met my lovely Inez at the hospital. If it hadn’t been for you…” he gave me a sweet smile and suddenly he looked younger, well, maybe eighty instead of eighty something.