The Seers
Page 9
“I’m sure you will,” he said with a patronizing cock of his eyebrows.
Resisting the urge to introduce my knee to his groin, I took my hand back and turned away with my head held high. I made my way back to where Jocelyn, Alex, and Cormac were seated, hoping I would get my internal temperature down to a controlled boil by the time I reached them. That smug bastard made me want to scream, but I’d get him. Even if it was the only thing I managed to do the entire trip, so help me, I would get him.
However, in the meantime, I needed to rein it in, and get myself back under control. Flying off the handle in the middle of the gala wasn’t going to do me or my cause any good, which meant I needed something else to focus my energy on. Unfortunately, I didn’t happen to pass by Shannon on my way back, as I would have loved to get a good look at the expression on her face, but the good news was that there were three men looking at me with what could only be described as shock on their faces, on whom I could easily focus my attention.
“Becca,” Cormac gushed, with a bewildered shake of his head as I arrived back at our little basecamp. “My dear, you were a vision! Where on earth did you learn to dance like that? I had no idea you were so talented!”
“Oh, you know,” I said, glancing down a little, embarrassed, “I’m full of surprises.”
“No, really,” Jocelyn said, appearing to be even more surprised than I thought he’d be. “Where did you learn that?”
I flashed him my best “how do you like me now” grin as I retook my seat on the couch. “Uncle Joe.”
“Joe… dances?” he asked, sitting in the adjacent chair.
“Yep. He started taking lessons a few years ago, and asked if I wanted to go with him. He’s bought me lessons for my birthday and Christmas every year from then on until I graduated.”
“Well,” he murmured, still looking a bit disillusioned. “I suppose I owe you an apology…”
“Yeah,” I flashed a wry grin, “but it’s OK. I knew you would.”
He huffed a laugh and shook his head slightly before turning his attention back to the dance floor, giving me a chance to look over to Alex who had been sitting quietly since my return. Our eyes met and I raised my eyebrows with a smile.
“I’m impressed,” he cast in the air in front of me with a grin.
I gave him a quick “yeah, I’m awesome” smirk, but when it only got me a half smile I realized something was off. I pulled my eyebrows together in a silent question, which a moment later he answered, “I’m fine.” I knew he was lying, but as it was obviously not the time or place to discuss it further, I let it go for the time being.
Besides, I had a slightly more pressing matter to deal with at the moment as a visit to the ladies room was far overdue. I excused myself and headed out to the nearest restroom, and was not surprised to find that even it was beyond fantastic, with a mini chandelier, its own parlor, and a row of vanity tables complete with settees, mirrors, and little baskets filled with emergency grooming supplies like makeup wipes, perfume, needle and thread, hairspray and just about everything else you could possibly have needed. Luckily it was also empty of people which meant there was no one to see me gawk.
I slipped in to one of the stalls and used the facilities – which, I might add is no easy feat when you are wearing full, floor-length gown that you can’t get wet, or wrinkled, or dirty in any way shape or form.
I was just about to flush when I heard the door to the restroom open and a conversation caught my ear… or more specifically, a name.
“… is Jocelyn Clavish’s daughter, Non, of course it’s causing a stir. But that doesn’t mean we have anything to worry about.”
Me? They were talking about me?
I held my breath as I turned slightly in the stall, angling my head to try and get a look at the speaker through the sliver of space between the door and the doorframe. I could only make out their shadows, but thanks to the inordinately high hair of the shadow to the left, that was all I needed. “Non,” she’d called her. Shannon. It was her.
“And if it is,” Shannon snipped, “what then?”
“Then we change our strategy,” the first voice answered, whom, given her tone, I had to assume was her mother. “We knew that minor problems may arise, this is nothing more than that, and we will deal with it. We have worked too hard to allow some no account, American born, partial Holder ruin things, no matter who her father is.”
“Holder,” Shannon scoffed, “from what Fenton told me, her Mentalist abilities are so weak she barely even warrants the title.”
Mentalist? So they’d had someone read me. Looked like the saol ring was working. Well done Min.
“Exactly,” the mother said. “And as far as Bastian is concerned, there is no reason to trouble yourself. He has far better taste than to consider someone like her. However,” she paused, and I heard the muffled tapping of items being shuffled in a purse, “that doesn’t mean his behavior doesn’t warrant punishment.”
“Gladly,” Shannon murmured, her voice distorted as though she was speaking while applying lipstick.
I heard something that sounded like a compact click shut, then the mother continued. “Come, we are going to return to the gallery, and you are going to dance with anyone other than Bastian. In fact you should pay him no attention at all until he approaches you. Ignore him for the remainder of the evening if you must.”
“Don’t you think that is a bit too much?” Shannon chuckled maliciously. “After having to lug Rebecca around the floor with him for an entire set, he is probably anxious for a decent partner. Did you see her footwork?”
“Utter dead weight–” but she was cut off by the door opening, ushering in several new voices.
My nostrils flared as a hundred and one things I wanted to do in that moment screamed in my head. I wanted to step out and let them know I’d heard every word. I wanted to tell them off. Tell them who I really was and that my ability could run circles around everyone else here combined. I wanted to merge with every ability I could sense right there and give them both a show they would never forget. I wanted to scream and yell. Shame them. Call them the most horrible names I knew and mean every word of it.
That’s what I wanted to do. That’s what they deserved.
We all want to stand up for ourselves when the hateful people of the world put us down, unfortunately most of us rarely do. We’ll defend others to the grave, but when we are the ones attacked, most of our snarky comebacks and witty retorts go unsaid to everyone but our own bedroom mirrors. But that wasn’t me. I didn’t hide from tyrants and let worthless arrogant bitches intimidate me. I was tough. I didn’t take crap. I stood up for the oppressed and fought off their bullies. But this was different. This wasn’t what I was used to. I couldn’t fall back on all my old “defend and protect” philosophies that I’d perfected over the years looking out for Ryland, because for the first time in my life the one being bullied… was me.
No matter how much I wanted to put them in their place in that moment, for some reason I couldn’t. Shamed as I was to admit it, all I could do was the same thing that almost anyone else would have done in my place: I fumed in silence, hid in the stall until I was positive they were gone…
…and tried not to cry.
CHAPTER 9
A short time later I was finally able to return to the gallery, having both successfully evaded the harpy and her mother, and removed any and all signs of distress from my expression and overall demeanor. I may have let the overheard conversation in the restroom get to me, but there was no reason that anyone else had to know it. I was mad enough that I’d been so sensitive, no way was I about to broadcast it and sulk like a baby.
I hurried back to where Alex, Cormac, and Jocelyn were seated, hoping that I hadn’t missed Brassal. I was very interested to meet him; firstly, because I strongly suspected that he was the one who had sent Bastian over to spy on me as it was clear that Alva was clueless, and secondly, I wanted to hear what he had to say about the object of
our whole trip here, Mr Shea.
Once I confirmed that Brassal hadn’t been by yet, I sat down next to Cormac to wait, not willing to risk missing him. However, as the minutes began to add up, I started to wonder if we were going to get blown off. Alva had said he would meet with us after the second dance set of the night – which was about ten sets ago. What was he up to? Was he talking with Bastian and getting a rundown of the conversation we’d had while dancing? Were they planning damage control? Trying to cover their tracks?
At the hour and a half mark, I ran a few of my theories by Jocelyn, who of course still thought I was crazy. “Don’t be absurd,” he’d said, when I’d again suggested the possibility of shenanigans. “Brassal is a busy man with dozens of guest to see. He will send for us when he is ready.” I didn’t press the matter, but for my part, I was a little disappointed in Jocelyn’s lack of overall skepticism. For as low as I knew his opinion of these people to be, it was still clearly higher than mine.
At the two hour mark I was about to make another comment when I saw our “hostess extraordinaire” came floating in out of the corner of my eye. Once again she was not alone, but this time, instead of Bastian, she was on the arm of a grown man wearing a perfectly tailored tux, a red satin sash, and a confident smile.
Finally.
“Jocelyn! Too long, my friend, far, far too long!” the man greeted Jocelyn with an enthusiastic handshake.
“Indeed, Brassal,” Jocelyn replied, “It is good to see you.”
“Do forgive my tardiness, I had some matters to attend to.”
Yeah, I’ll bet you did…
“No need to apologize, we’ve been having a wonderful time,” Jocelyn assured him. “Alva has truly outdone herself,” he added with a nod toward her. Much as I hated Jocelyn playing to these people, I had to hand it to him – the guy knew how to turn on the charm, no doubt about it.
“And this,” Brassal said, stepping toward me, “must be the lovely Rebecca I have been hearing so much about.”
“Yes,” Jocelyn said, placing a hand on my arm and bringing me forward. “Becca, allow me to introduce Brassal Bloch.”
“It is truly an honor,” Brassal said, taking my hand, though thankfully he didn’t kiss it as Bastian had done. I’d had my fill of strangers’ lips for one evening.
“Thank you,” I nodded, while silently wondering just what he had heard about me… and who had done the telling.
“And this is Mr Alex Bray,” Jocelyn introduced Alex who always seemed to be just a foot or two behind the rest of us.
“A pleasure, Mr Bray,” Brassal said, shaking his hand, impressing me with his perceived level of sincerity. “And where is Cormac this evening?” Brassal asked, glancing around.
“He stepped away, but should be back shortly,” Jocelyn said.
“Well, then I will have to be sure to find him later. Now,” Brassal said, stepping back and retaking Ava’s arm, “Alva tells me there is something you wish to discuss?”
“Yes,” Jocelyn nodded, “that is, if you have a moment.”
“Of course,” he said, “though I do hope nothing is wrong…”
“No,” Jocelyn assured him, though his voice stayed slightly hushed. “I simply wish to make the acquaintance of one of your number and would appreciate an introduction and perhaps a private meeting.”
“Is that all?” Brassal asked, looking slightly relived “Of course, of course, no problem at all! Who is it you are looking for? Perhaps he is even here tonight.”
“Ciaran Shea.”
“Ciaran?” Brassal repeated, confusion furrowing his brow.
“Yes,” Jocelyn nodded, “is something wrong?”
Here we go, I thought, scowling inwardly, let the cover-ups begin…
“Unfortunately,” Alva said, “that won’t be possible.”
“That is… unfortunate,” Jocelyn said, treading lightly. “There is an important matter I need to discuss with him.”
“Perhaps it is something that we could help you with?” Alva suggested.
“Thank you, but with all due respect, the matter is somewhat private.” He was obviously trying to be as polite and tactful as possible, but at least now he had to see that I’d been right and these people where definitely hiding something. I mean come on; the one guy we’d come here to see, who was probably doing God knows what with God knows who, and now we find out that they have him tucked away somewhere and won’t even let us see him?
Conspiracy much?
“It truly is imperative that I speak with him, even if only for a moment. If there is any way I could change your mind…” Jocelyn asked, having no choice but to show his hand a little bit.
“Oh no, you misunderstand,” Brassal said, holding up a hand to Jocelyn as though he was worried he’d offended him. “We would be more than happy to introduce you to Ciaran, but…” he paused a moment, “unfortunately, Ciaran Shea is dead.”
“Dead?” Cormac asked, stunned as the rest of us. “How? When?”
After we’d found out that the man we’d come all this way to see was undeniably and irreversibly un-seeable, Jocelyn had gone to speak with Brassal privately while Alex and I went off to Cormac.
“We don’t know,” I said as the three of us gathered in the corner of the gallery. “Jocelyn is finding out now.”
“It can’t be a coincidence,” Alex said.
“Not a chance,” I agreed.
“In fact,” Jocelyn said as he joined us, his ease of his posture not matching the tension in his brow, “it may just be.”
“What did you find out, Jocelyn?” asked Cormac, who, like Jocelyn, kept his stance casual but his voice lowered.
“As I said,” Jocelyn continued, glancing quickly around, “Ciaran’s death does not appear to be anything suspicious. He passed away of a heart attack.”
“A heart attack?” Alex repeated.
“When?” I asked.
“More than three years ago.”
Cormac scratched his chin, perplexed. “And there was no sign of foul play?”
“None, nor was there any reason to suspect that there would be. At least, not at the time.”
“What the hell could Taron have wanted from a man who’s been dead for three years?” I asked, growing more and more frustrated with the entire situation.
“I don’t know,” Jocelyn answered, glancing around cautiously again, “but I suggest we keep any further speculation to ourselves until we are in private. Cormac, talk to your friends, anyone you are certain you can trust, and find out what you can. The rest of us,” he continued turning to Alex and me, “will finish the evening as though nothing has happened. I believe the last dance is about to begin. Afterward, we will all meet in my room and decide what’s to be done.”
We all nodded then parted ways, Cormac toward his many acquaintances to gather info, while Jocelyn, Alex, and I headed back to our seats near the dance floor. As we made our way through the room, the final dance was announced, and when I realized that it was another waltz, I was hit by a random and very unexpected thought. A thought that impressed me as much as it scared me.
It was the realization that there was… something I could do.
The problem was I wasn’t entirely sure it was something I actually wanted to do. Clearly there was a small part of me that did, or the thought would never have occurred to me in the first place. But could I actually go through with it? I guess it would be… I don’t know… nice? Weird? Yeah, that too. Plus, everyone would see! Or at least Alex and Cormac would see, the rest of them I didn’t give a damn about. But if it went well it would be worth it, right?
Right?
As we approached the small group of chairs we had spent almost the entire night either on or around, I knew I had to make a decision. If I was going to do it, it had to be now or the moment would pass. But did I have the balls?
Yes.
No…
Bah! Yes, damn it! I was not going to wuss out twice in one evening! I was doing this.
“Would you… like to dance?”
His shock was obvious, even though I could tell he was trying to hide it. We stood silently for an anxious breath until the surprise on his face melted into something that I didn’t want to examine hard enough to put a name to. Instead I glanced over to Alex who – bless him – was pretending not to pay attention as Jocelyn and I stood there, hovering in a moment balanced on a razor between impressively improved and incredibly uncomfortable. An eternal second later, Jocelyn finally answered. He didn’t say anything, which was probably for the better, but instead turned slightly and offered me his arm. With a wave of relief – and a small pat on the back – I rested my hand in the crook of his arm, caught a small smile as it flashed across Alex’s face, then followed Jocelyn’s lead out onto the dance floor.
“So, correct me if I’m wrong, but we’re basically screwed.” I hated to have to say it out loud, but given the events of the evening, that was the only conclusion I could draw.
It was immediately after the gala, and Jocelyn, Alex, and I were waiting for Cormac in Jocelyn’s titanic-size suite. My room may have been ridiculously large, but his you could have easily parked a houseboat in.
“That will depend on what Cormac is able to find out,” Jocelyn answered, removing his medal sash and jacket and tossing them on the bed. “But our goal is still the same at its root.”
“I thought our goal was to talk to Shea.”
“Our goal was and is to find out how Shea is connected to Taron and learn what manner of dealings they had. Confronting him would have been the easiest method, but that is not the only way of finding the information we need.”
“But only provided that someone else happens to know something,” Alex said, sounding about as optimistic as I felt.