“Well, miss,” Esther began, slowly stirring a spoonful of sugar into her black coffee. “I hardly even know what to say to you.”
“Bubbeh, I know the house isn’t finished, and—”
Esther gave her head a sharp shake. “That is not the problem here.”
Kylie felt the dagger in her kidney move up to her stomach and twist. “Dag? Bubbeh, you don’t know him. He’s really the—”
The old woman snorted. “That wonderful young man? I grant you, he’s a little too quiet for my taste, but my Ben was a talker. No, he seems like a fine man, polite, respectful, and the way he can’t take his eyes off of you shows me he at least has good taste. It would be nice if he were Jewish, but I gave up on that idea years ago. That is not what we need to discuss.”
Kylie shook her head, utterly confused. “Then I don’t understand.”
“Kylie.” Esther stretched out her hand and laid her fingers over her granddaughter’s, squeezing with surprising strength. “There is something that is not right with you, bubeleh. I could feel it before I even got here, and now I can see the evidence with my own eyes. So I’m here, and I’m asking you. What is going on with my only baby girl?”
* * *
Dag had left the room at Esther’s request, but he hadn’t gone far. Just far enough that his keen Guardian hearing could pick up their conversation while remaining concealed himself.
He had scented Kylie’s distress the minute he emerged from the basement and saw her open the door to an elderly woman in a black hat and a pink coat, but when she had turned to face him, he hadn’t needed his nose to discern her state of panic. It was written all over her face.
For a moment, his instincts had urged him to throw himself into the fray and place his body between his mate and the danger that threatened her. His instincts, however, had a hard time reconciling the idea of the small, wizened, and obviously aged woman in the doorway with an assault on Kylie’s physical well-being. He quickly realized that the only weapon Esther Kramer carried was guilt, but she wielded it like an expert swordswoman.
Standing barely an inch over Kylie’s four-ten frame, and although her spine might have begun to curve, Esther still carried herself with the straight-backed pride of a much younger woman. Her skin had taken on the faint translucence of age, but the color reminded him greatly of her granddaughter. The women also shared the same curve of the cheekbone and that distinctively stubborn chin.
Esther’s hair had gone gray, strands of steel and iron lightened by the occasional thread of silver, but it appeared to curl much like Kylie’s, though she wore it in a much shorter crop that had obviously been styled with care. The same attention to her appearance showed in her clothing, all well tailored from fabrics of obvious quality.
Everything about her stated that this was a woman to be reckoned with. He imagined that in fifty or sixty years, his Kylie would look much the same. He looked forward to seeing her mature into an equally formidable matriarch.
In that moment he realized the true importance of convincing her to accept their mating. Only a true bond between them could free him of his duty and allow him to share a natural human life span with his mate. If she were to reject him and their relationship, he would be condemned to another long slumber and an eventual awakening to a world with no Kylie in it.
The thought made him clench his fists until the knuckles ached. He could not survive in such a future. He needed her too badly.
A grunt of satisfaction escaped him when he heard his mate’s grandmother express a positive opinion of him. He would not have stepped away from Kylie even had the old woman commanded it, but he was glad not to be the cause of tension in their family. As he understood, Kylie had too few family members she could rely on as it was.
But it was the old woman’s softly voiced question that really got his attention.
What is going on with my only baby girl?
He heard Kylie’s tired sigh.
“Bubbeh, it’s nothing,” Kylie said. “I’m just tired. I guess I’ve been working too hard.”
“Du kannst nicht auf meinem rucken pishen unt mir sagen classe es regen ist.”
Dag frowned even as Kylie laughed weakly.
“I’m not pissing on your back and telling you it’s raining, bubbeh. I really have been working hard.”
“On what?” Esther demanded. “You made enough money with that big-time program you wrote that you never have to work another day in your life. And before you interrupt to tell me you like to work, I’ll remind you that in all of your years, you have never missed coming home for Passover. Not while you were in college, not while you were in negotiations for your business, not even the year you had a broken leg and mono all at the same time. Busy does not keep my ainikl from home on the holiday.”
“Bubbeh, please. What if I promise I’ll come for Shavuot instead? I know it’s not Passover, but we can light the candles together and—”
“Is it this man of yours? He doesn’t want to come with you? He doesn’t want you to go? Because I thought I already made up my mind to like him, but it hasn’t been very long. I can change it.”
“No. No, it’s not that. It’s just—”
Dag hated hearing her struggling for words that would pacify her grandmother’s fierce curiosity and determined persuasion without giving away the secrets she had so recently become privy to. Part of him wanted to race in and show the woman what was at stake if he and Kylie should fail to thwart the plans of the Order, but he knew his duty too well.
He also knew Kylie tended to get testy with him when she thought he was being overprotective, or behaving as if she could not take care of herself.
There was a stretch of silence before he heard Kylie shift in her chair and sigh. “Bubbeh, I can only apologize for not visiting you for Passover. Believe me when I tell you it’s not what I want either, but you raised me to keep to my principles and to always remember my duty to my fellow man. I can’t tell you exactly why I can’t come, because it’s a story that isn’t all mine to tell. But I can tell you that someone will be in danger that weekend, and they’ll need my help to keep them safe.”
Another brief silence. When it finally ended, he expected the same kind of insistent demand for answers he had come to expect from Kylie. The same trait that he had begun to suspect she had inherited directly from Esther.
Instead, the old woman said, “Is this going to put you in danger yourself?”
“I don’t know. But I can tell you that I’ll have friends looking out for me. Dag will be there. So will my old friend Wynn. You remember her. Bran’s sister? She’ll be there with her fiancé and maybe others. But this is too important to leave to just them. I need to be here, and I need to help.”
Esther harrumphed. “Well, I probably don’t have to tell you that I don’t like this.”
“No, bubbeh, you don’t.”
“But you’re right. I did raise you to know what is right and to do what is right when you’re the only one who can. We should all be loving and kind to each other.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do. Thank you for understanding.”
“But I still don’t like it!”
“I know, bubbeh. I’ll come for Shavuot. I promise.”
Dag heard movement and the rustling of fabric and the soft sound of patting hands and knew the women shared an embrace. Relief washed through him.
“Yes, you will come,” Esther said, her voice slightly muffled by the hug. “And bring your boy. I’ll make blintzes.”
Kylie chuckled. “We’ll see, bubbeh.”
“Now, since I’m already here, and there’s no way I’m getting back on that farkakta train tonight,” Esther said, her voice coming clearer as she pulled back from her granddaughter, “why don’t you tell me what you have planned for your birthday tomorrow?”
Shock propelled Dag forward and out of hiding. Unable to stop himself, he stared at Kylie in offended shock. “Your birthday is tomorrow? But you never mentioned this to me.
”
Esther looked from Kylie to Dag and back again. “Bubeleh, you never told your boyfriend about your birthday? How is he supposed to get you a present if he doesn’t even know the date?”
Kylie looked as if she couldn’t decide who to glare at, so she settled on staring at the ceiling. “Dag doesn’t have to get me a gift. And I’ve had a lot on my mind. It just hasn’t been a priority.”
“I don’t care how important this work of yours is! You have to take the time to celebrate your life.” Esther patted her granddaughter on the cheek and stepped back. “Go put on some lipstick. I’m taking you out to dinner. Both of you.”
“That’s really not necessary. I don’t even—”
“Lipstick. Now.” Esther pressed her lips together in a stern expression and pointed to the stairs. “And maybe a dress. Or at least a blouse that doesn’t have some smart-mouthed saying on it. And a little perfume never hurt anybody!”
She had to raise her voice on the last suggestion, because Kylie had already given in and marched obediently—if with obvious reluctance—toward the stairs. Dag watched, then turned toward the woman.
“That is an impressive feat, gaining her compliance so readily,” he observed, feeling slightly dazzled. “Perhaps later you could show me how you achieved it?”
Esther turned and eyed him with speculation and a glint of humor in her dark hazel eyes. “Come with Kylie to Shavuot. If you do that, then we’ll talk.”
“Very well. I will look forward to it.” He nodded his promise.
“So will I, Dag.”
Before he could say another word, the small, elderly woman took him completely by surprise. Stretching to the top of her toes, she reached up and patted his cheek, much as she had done to Kylie. The tap packed a surprising sting coming from such a small, frail-looking human female. He found himself blinking down at her in astonishment.
“Just so you know, however,” she said with a smile. “If you hurt my little girl, I’ll make you wish your mother had died a virgin.”
And with that, Esther Kramer turned on her heel and headed for the powder room, snapping the door closed behind her.
Bemused, Dag stared after her, one hand lifting to rub his tingling cheek. Yes, he did look forward to seeing Kylie grow and develop over the next sixty years.
He looked forward to it very much, indeed.
Chapter Fifteen
Az men vil nit alt vern, zol men zikh yungerheyt oyfhengen.
If you don’t want to grow old, hang yourself when you’re young.
Dag found Esther’s short visit with them both refreshing and entertaining; Kylie found Dag fundamentally and certifiably insane. However, she also found the pair of Star Trek original series Tribble bedroom slippers he managed to locate online and give her as a belated birthday present adorable, so she was willing to overlook it. Especially given the effort he’d had to go through to call up Knox and get a crash course in online shopping, and probably a loan, because what supernatural defender of humanity carried plastic? That doubled the gift’s awww quotient, easy.
What she could not overlook was the mounting evidence that the strike the Order of Eternal Darkness had planned for the Carver conference over Passover weekend would be one of the most hellish events in modern history. Provided, of course, that the Guardians and the Wardens failed to stop it, which Kylie already knew was not an option.
Really, though, she needed to start a conversation with the others about their group identity. Calling them “the Guardians and the Wardens” was just so cumbersome. They needed a collective name for themselves. Something like “the Avengers.” Though less taken, obviously. Although Kylie would totally dig being the Black Widow. That character kicked ass!
If Kylie’s research proved correct, it would take the kicking of hundreds of asses to keep the attendees of the Carver conference safe. A lot of what she had begun to suspect was speculation, because even on the darknet, the nocturnis appeared to be operating with an abundance of caution in order not to arouse too much suspicion regarding their plans. Still, she had gathered enough data by the middle of April to warrant not just a routine call with Wynn, but a videoconference with all the currently known Guardians and Wardens at once.
It took a couple of days to put together. Kylie arranged it all, of course, but she had to talk the others through the process of installing the necessary software on their computers. Thanks to everything holy that none of them had required system or hardware upgrades to make it possible. Once she had insured everyone was online, Kylie drew her office chair in close for Dag and perched on the edge of her balance ball.
“I’m glad you guys are all here,” she began. “I know we’re still ten days out, but I wanted to make sure we had enough time to not just put together a plan, but to get everyone in place where they need to be.”
“Hey, don’t worry about us.” Fil—short for Felicity—Shalvis was a no-nonsense woman with pale blond hair and an attitude more like a cop or a biker than the artist Kylie knew her to be. “Spar and I have been waiting for this. We missed all the fun in Chicago, so if you guys need physical backup, we call dibs.”
“Um, I have a feeling you might want to dig out your suitcase.”
“Just lay it on us,” Wynn suggested, motioning with both hands in front of her. “What’s going down?”
Kylie tried for a wry smile. “Remember when we first talked and you said, ‘How about the end of the world?’ You may have hit closer to the bull’s-eye than any of us really want to contemplate.” Dag laid a hand against her back, lending his support and reminding her that she was not in this alone. None of them were. “If I’m right, this is going to be really, really bad.”
She took a deep breath and started walking them through her findings. Since the conference expected to draw more than five thousand attendees from all over the world, it represented a veritable Demon’s smorgasbord of souls all gathered in one place, ready to be consumed. The only thing Kylie and the others could be grateful for is that at almost no point would that number be gathered in one place within the convention center.
“That makes me twitchy,” she told the others. “It seems to me that part of the appeal of hitting an event this big is the ability to harvest so many souls at one time. But if they’re not all in one space, does that mean they’re intending to hit a whole bunch of different spots simultaneously? That would be a nightmare for us.”
Most of the time, she explained, attendees would be spread out among a number of smaller sessions, with each discussing an aspect of the overarching issues the conference was intended to address. There was an extensive schedule of these sessions for attendees to choose from and some were expected to draw larger crowds than others. That was the nature of these kinds of meetings. Unfortunately, Kylie didn’t know enough about the topics or the attendees to determine which of the sessions would likely draw the largest crowds.
“Am I wrong in thinking that coordinating so many simultaneous attacks would be too big a headache even for superpsycho demon worshippers?”
“No, I do not think you are,” Kees said. Ella’s Guardian looked like some kind of rogue angel, with features almost too handsome for Kylie to believe he was a real Guardian, but Spar, Knox, and Dag all accepted him at face value. Plus, he did have that gravelly Guardian voice, and the look that said he could rip off heads if suitably motivated. “That number of coordinated strikes would require hundreds, if not thousands, of nocturnis in order to achieve success. We have never seen a single sect with anything even close to those numbers. Coordination between sects is always a possibility, but Ella feels that, for now, it remains unlikely.”
“The ‘for now’ is a point worth stressing, though.” Ella, a quiet woman with brown hair and unique gray eyes, sounded wary but certain. “I think it’s inevitable that as the Order gains in strength, they will need to begin coordinating their efforts to bring about the apocalypse they’re all dreaming of. But at the moment, every time we’ve run into an active sect, i
t’s been headed by a big ego. That alone makes me think that until the Seven are awake and aware enough to force the groups to work together, they’re just all too power hungry and full of themselves to pull off working together in any kind of direct way.”
“Okay, that’s a little bit of good news,” Kylie said. “it also adds some weight to my theory. Now mind you, it is just a theory, and I’m not sure that what I found out is going to be enough to substantiate it for you guys, but—”
Wynn interrupted gently but with a steely smile. “Just spit it out. You’re one of us now, and in order to be one of us, you have to have power. That means that if your intuition is telling you something, we’re all going to believe it unless something pretty solid points us in another direction. So, spill.”
Dag slid his hand around and squeezed her hip. Kylie took a deep breath. “Okay. Sorry. I think it’s going to happen at the keynote address. That’s on the schedule for first thing on Sunday morning, right after breakfast. Eight-thirty. It won’t draw in every single attendee, but the room will be set up for three thousand people, with overflow standing room for at least a few hundred more.”
“That’s a pretty impressive crowd,” Fil said. “I think that would count as a pretty filling lunch, even for two greedy demons.”
“It is enough power to return Uhlthor to strength and to free Shaab-Na from its prison,” Spar added grimly. “I fear it may even be more than enough.”
Kylie nodded. “I was afraid of the same thing. But what tips it over the edge for me is that Richard Foye-Carver himself is giving the keynote address. He’ll be right there, in the room, when it happens. And not only that, he’ll be up on a stage getting the best view in the house.”
She frowned and took a deep breath. “I know we don’t have definitive proof that he’s the Hierophant, but my gut tells me he is, and my gut also says that if he could, he’d bathe in the blood of those people himself.”
Rocked by Love (Gargoyles Series) Page 21