I noticed Tory stand, murmuring whispered apologies to those at her table, and then leaving. Mordred didn’t miss a beat, but I swore I saw his eyes tighten for a millisecond at my comment. “I’m glad to hear there were no hard feelings between you two. Perhaps it’s best if I don’t call her. Bad blood can ruin a family.”
I waved a hand, trying to conceal that it was shaking, but I knew Mordred noticed. “No bad blood, but she doesn’t live near St. Louis.”
Mordred nodded, still managing to look embarrassed for the audience.
Good god. He wasn’t just stabbing me in the back. He was twisting the knife. Coming between me and Callie. But how did he even know about her? Why was he planting himself in my way? It had to mean he wanted something from me. And that couldn’t be good, because that meant the Round Table.
In my silence, Mordred pressed the advantage. “And I’m proud to see you taking a solid stance on all this wizard confusion. Could get people hurt. Start a war between those who feel differently from others. Alienated. Isolated. Alone. We families,” he enunciated the word, glancing out at the crowd, “need to stick together in times of crises. I think we can all agree there has been quite enough division these days. Which is why I find the Round Table Initiative so important.”
“Why not leave it to the government?” I asked, trying to switch gears.
He sighed, shaking his head. “I fear – unfortunately – that this is beyond their ability to control.” They can’t stop me, I translated his words in my mind. “I once knew a homeless veteran who thought he was a wizard. Called himself Merlin, of all things. I helped him find a new vocation since his previous government had done him ill.” He sighed sadly, lifting his glass in honor of Merlin before taking a sip.
I ignored his comment about his association with Merlin. “Are you implying this is the government’s fault? Didn’t you just make a sizable bribe to the police?” I asked, frowning.
“Donation,” the announcer interrupted abruptly, the weaselly bastard. He had no problem helping out Mordred, which pretty much clarified he was on the take, too.
Mordred was shaking his head. “I think this requires a more grassroots movement. At least initially. The world is changing, and those who see themselves as different need a voice to represent them. To empower them. Give them the courage to make the Capital listen to them. That person could be you, Master Temple. My organization could use your talents. If you would consider working with us. I’d hate to be rivals. I wouldn’t be here without your help, after all…”
“I think those in positions of power are listening pretty closely,” I said. “As is the rest of the world. And they’re not liking the developing situation. Not at all…” Mordred shrugged, a hopeful look on his face. “Perhaps we could discuss this in more detail in private,” I said, begrudgingly. Because he was neutering me in this arena, and I knew when to throw in the towel.
“That would be amazing. Perhaps I can see your ancestral home I’ve heard so much about. Chateau Falco, is it not? Big houses can be Beasts on the maintenance expenses, I’ve found.” He shook his head, chuckling. “My calendar is suddenly open tomorrow.”
I shivered, gritting my teeth in a smile. Another trap. Inviting him to the one place in the world he wanted to go. Where I’d stashed the Round Table. “I’m not sure that will work. I’d have to—”
“Two days, then. I’m at your disposal. We can drink tea and discuss this like gentlemen. Maybe even bring some of your family friends who may be interested in hearing what I have to say.” He turned to the audience, wiping figurative sweat from his brow. “I just earned an audience with the king!” he whispered theatrically.
They chuckled at him, but not at the moniker. More at his act. They were buying it hook, line, and sinker. Well, all but the stoic faces of the supernatural families interspersed in the audience. They looked like they trusted neither but wanted more information. Now.
Seeing he had backed me into a corner, with the whole world given the chance to see me as a heartless elitist who was hesitant to help a charity, I nodded. “It would be my pleasure,” I said, smiling. “We can discuss cleaning up the streets of St. Louis while we’re at it. I’ve seen reports of all sorts of hoodlums running around with delusions of grandeur, causing problems. Like these videos we were supposed to be discussing…” I shot him a faux stern look. “I think we’ve wasted enough of the taxpayers’ dollars on our little chat—”
“Oh, this isn’t on the taxpayers’ dime,” Mordred chuckled, waving a hand.
I blinked at him. Of course it was. It had been planned months ago, and no donation to the police would change that. Had I finally caught him in a mistake?
“I’m afraid I wrote a check to the city to cover tonight’s event. On behalf of the Round Table Initiative. I wanted to… put my money where my mouth is, so to speak,” he admitted. “I wouldn’t have brought up the charity otherwise.”
Wow. This guy was a political marvel. I nodded. “Well said.”
The announcer piped up, interrupting me. “Before we wrap up, could you give us a soundbite on the Round Table Initiative, Mr. Dredd?”
“The Round Table initiative…” Mordred thought out loud, scratching at his cleanshaven chin. “Much like the fabled King Arthur brought a handful of uniquely different, but respectable, honorable men together, I aim to do much the same. Representatives from a handful of families that represent St. Louis, given equal voice so we can come together as one. I’m a hopeless romantic, you see. I always fancied myself a knight.”
But I heard what was said in subtext. Pull the families – supernatural families – together under one banner. His banner. With me as his enforcer. His Black Knight.
The announcer pounced, sensing the approval of the crowd. “Would that make you King Arthur in this example?” he teased.
Mordred leaned forward, scratching his chin again. He glanced over at me, and I just knew he was roaring with laughter inside. “Why, yes. I guess it would…” he said distantly. “But don’t worry, I’ll be a benevolent king,” he said with feigned pompousness. He glanced over at me abruptly. “And look! I’ve already found my wise advisor, Merlin!” he said, pointing at me.
“If only Alaric Slate had been right… If magic was real, I might have been able to find a way through your clever schemes unscathed,” I said, smiling good-naturedly.
“How is Alaric these days?” Mordred asked me conversationally. “He didn’t look well last time I saw him. But he spoke very passionately about a mutual acquaintance before we parted ways.”
I nodded, masking my anger. So that was how he’d learned about me. But who had Alaric mentioned? I’d hardly known the bastard. Had Mordred infiltrated the dragons?
I gritted my teeth in a fake smile. “He was down on his luck, unfortunately. Couple of bad business decisions he never learned from. I helped teach him that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing and expecting a different result. I think he took the lesson to heart.”
Mordred flashed me a knowing smile, having the time of his life. “That is good advice. I’m glad I never play the same game twice. You’re a wise one, Master Temple…” he cocked his head, “or I guess I should say Merlin!” He winked at the crowd. “I so look forward to our meeting in two days. I’ll have you signing agreements before you even get to serving the tea,” he promised. “I must warn you, despite my sad attempt at public discourse, I’m a mean negotiator behind closed doors,” he smiled, shaking his fist at me, somehow managing to look weak and pathetic, and owning it entirely for the crowd.
“I’ve handled a few intense meetings before and always came out on top. But I think we can come to a mutual understanding. Like I did with Alaric. Now, I think everyone is ready to see the band and have some refreshments.”
The announcer – the little shit – waited until Mordred nodded before asking the crowd for a round of applause. Mordred finished his drink and waited for the applause to die down before leaning into the microphone, looking
over at me. “Don’t forget our photo opportunity,” Mordred smiled, pointing at one of the cameramen – who had indeed set up an area for us already. He even had a fake crown and a staff for props.
For King Arthur and Merlin.
Grinding my teeth in a smile, I noticed the Huntress standing in the crowd, shooting me a questioning look. “Say the word and he’ll be drowning in blood,” she whispered into my comms. “It won’t look like an accident, but I’ll make sure the cameraman gets a good… shot.”
I shook my head discreetly. An assassination would only make everything worse.
I joined Mordred in front of the cameraman, ready to take a quick picture and then get as far away as possible. I remained very still, hoping the Huntress listened to my advice.
Which was why I wasn’t paying attention when Mordred handed me the wizard’s staff. He already had the fake crown on his head.
I politely declined and, without hesitation, he scooped up a second crown I hadn’t noticed. He held it out for me and I heard the cameraman clicking behind me like a shotgun.
Getting a picture of Mordred handing me a crown.
A subtle message that he was in complete control, and this was his ultimate plan. To have me set up as a king under his rule.
Just like… I had done with all my friends.
It was… humbling. I hadn’t considered how grating it would feel, but now I had a unique perspective on how my friends and allies must have initially felt. For a second time, I politely declined.
“Fine, spoilsport,” Mordred chuckled. “We can just take a boring picture shaking hands,” he said, rolling his eyes. He held out his hand, and I took it. Better than the alternative.
He pulled me in for a tight hug, surprisingly strong, and I could feel him chuckling. Then, he opened himself up, letting me feel the storm of power currently raging through him. I gasped into his shoulder, thankful that a cameraman hadn’t gotten a picture of my face.
Or they would have thought I’d been stabbed.
I’d never – ever – felt someone so powerful. Not even the gods I knew. Not even Athena, the god I had killed. Mordred was practically vibrating with power. My teeth threatened to rattle from my gums.
In the heat of the discussion, I had entirely forgotten about the Nine Souls inhabiting his body, fueling him. Powering him up. In my ear, he whispered, “This was fun. I look forward to our next chat.”
Then he released me and melted into the crowd. I noticed several men following him, obviously security, and they weren’t about to let him out of their sight. Which would make abducting him all but impossible.
I immediately pulled my phone to my ear to pretend a phone call, but really, I tapped my jaw twice, opening up my comms.
“Get Callie out of here. Now!” I snarled on the open line. “Spill a drink on her dress. Whatever it takes.”
“What? Why don’t you do it?” Gunnar murmured. “That would look more natural.”
“Just do it!” I hissed. “I’m a P.R. nightmare right now, and she’s about to have a horde of reporters smothering her. Yahn, if you’re close, be ready to make her disappear. I’ll pretend to be looking for her, and act upset to hear that she left early.”
Yahn confirmed he was close and would be on standby.
“You hear that, Callie?” I asked. But she didn’t respond. I casually tried to look for her and my heart froze. Mordred was speaking with her.
Chapter 7
I continued pretending to talk into the phone, smiling as I passed Congressmen, police officers, and various other wealthy families from around town. I didn’t see any of the supernatural family representatives. Either they were hiding from Mordred…
Or waiting for an opportunity to speak with him.
I was sure to keep Callie in my sights. Mordred was smiling as he spoke to her, gesturing animatedly with his hands. Callie simply nodded occasionally, not smiling, but not frowning.
“Gunnar?” I snarled nervously.
“On it. Shit. Are you seeing this—?”
“Yes, damnit. I see!” I snapped. Several guests glanced over at me quickly. I smiled through my teeth, waving a hand. Then I leaned away, speaking in a low tone. “I won’t be upset if you accidentally slice his artery with a broken wine glass. In fact, I’ll pay you ten million dollars cash and sneak you out of the country if you kill him. Right now.”
Gunnar actually considered it. “I… can’t,” he finally said, and I saw him circling Callie, looking like he was about to burst out of his tailored suit. Even his stone eyepatch looked classy. Like a statement piece.
“I understand,” I sighed.
“No, Nate,” he urged. “I can’t shift. He’s wearing a Moonstone.”
“Someone throw a fucking drink on Callie, NOW!” I growled, turning away from a pair of reporters that had spotted me and were making their way over.
I watched out of the corner of my eye as Gunnar seemed to trip, sending a platter of wine glasses at Callie. Mordred, as quick as a snake, was suddenly shielding her with his body, the wine splashing over his head and back.
And the reporters went wild, declaring him a hero as they snapped a billion pictures.
He looked up at the cameras, smiling, red wine dripping down his face like fresh blood. “I’m not a hero. Just doing what needs to be done. Any man would do the same for a Queen like you,” he said, eyeing the ring hanging from a chain around her neck.
But the smile – in my opinion – was entirely calculated and cold. A message.
I continued watching from the corner of my eye, still pretending to speak on the phone, as if I had no idea Callie was near me. I saw Mordred turn to Callie, gripping her hand. I almost broke character, suddenly territorial and protective, but managed to maintain my ruse. I watched, raging, as Mordred kissed the back of her hand, bowing. “My lady.”
She smiled politely, but I could tell she was seething inside. “Not in your wildest fantasies.”
And Mordred abruptly flinched, his entire arm tensing suddenly. He blinked at her rapidly.
“Sorry. Old souls sometimes bite, even in captivity,” she said, lifting up her thumb to glance down at the shadow ring, but careful to conceal it from the photographers. Then she let a slow smile creep over her face, locking eyes with Mordred. “Imagine that. I have nine other fingers… Mr. Dredd. Maybe I’ll have the complete set, soon…”
His eyes grew entirely too interested, all of a sudden. “That would be a shame…”
The Huntress abruptly stumbled between them, snapping one of her heels in the process, and spilling a tray full of red wine glasses all over Callie’s dress. Callie squawked indignantly, instantly demanding to speak to a manager and demanding fresh towels.
Yahn appeared as if summoned, thankfully wearing a suit similar enough to the waiters so as not to cause confusion. He kept his features serious as he apologized profusely to Callie. Then he rounded on the Huntress, his eyes cold. “Put up your tray. You’re finished for the night. I’ll have someone else clean up your mess.” The Huntress lowered her chin, looking about to cry as she backed away in silence. Yahn turned to guide Callie from the mess, resuming his apologies.
“Got her,” he murmured into the comms.
“I’m going to kill that son of a bitch,” Callie snarled, also on the comms.
“No, you’re going to get the hell out of here and back to Kansas City. He knows who you are, now, and he’s fucking powerful,” I argued.
Rather than make a scene, they both murmured a vague agreement, and that we would discuss it later. I lowered my phone, tucking it into a pocket, ready to spend a few minutes appearing to look for Callie. I waited a moment to look towards where she had been, standing up on my tiptoes.
To see Mordred smiling at me. He mimed pointing a gun and pulling the trigger. Then he dipped his head as if to say, your move.
I smiled back.
Only one of the smiles was genuine.
Guess which one.
Callie actually called
my phone a moment later. I shut down my comms before answering, and then I began speaking loud enough for all to hear about how upset I was that she’d suffered a clumsy waitress, ruining her new dress.
“You need to shut this bitch down,” she snarled, ignoring my tirade entirely. “We Shadow Walked back to Chateau Falco, but you have a meeting before you can come home.”
I blinked, frowning. “A meeting? With who?”
“A member of the Chancery. I talked to her by the bar and convinced her to meet with you. You’re to meet at her house in one hour. I’ll text you the address.”
“You got all that from someone you just met?” I asked incredulously.
“She liked my ring, and I can be very persuasive when I want something,” Callie said suggestively. I cleared my throat pointedly, which only made her laugh softly. “And Nate?”
“Yes?” I answered her, already considering my talking points. This was huge. A chance to talk to the Chancery – the Fae who had been banished to Earth for some unknown reason, and had formed their own club, of sorts – had been beyond my abilities so far.
“You need to do whatever you can to convince her you mean well. Mordred is extremely powerful, and I get the feeling from our brief conversation that he’s been working on this plan for quite some time. He may already have some of the Families in his pocket. And you’re going to need all the help you can get.”
“Thank you, Callie. But you need to promise me you won’t get involved with this.”
Callie grunted. “I’ve got the king of Fallen Angels breathing down my neck, so I’ll be busy. But you better call if you do need help. This… is going to get messy, Nate.”
“I’m the king of messy. Some even call me a hot mess,” I told her.
Despite the severity of the conversation, she laughed. And I hadn’t realized how badly I needed to hear it. “Stay safe, Nate. And don’t waste my favor. Impress them. Eat crow. Bite down on your humility.”
Horseman: A Nate Temple Supernatural Thriller Book 10 (The Temple Chronicles) Page 4