Jack and Ezra instantly laughed at my words, even while Elly simply nodded. She started to turn to cut him off, but stopped. She was staring at my lap, so I peered down. Ezra still had his hand on my leg, gifting me gently with his power, the softest of tranquility past the chill.
I hadn’t even noticed. No wonder I hadn’t been cold. I had even forgotten to turn the heater up. To make matters worse, in Elly’s view, his hand had slipped under my dress when he had reclined his seat.
She bent halfway through the window, over me, asking softly, “What’cha think you’re doing with your hand up my Prodigy’s dress, Vampire?” Her lioness growled, and it was a fairly frightening sound, coming from a supposedly weak Shifter.
Ezra kept his hand where it was, grinning unrepentantly, not helping the situation any.
Taking a firm grip on her shoulder, I explained, “He’s only relaxing me.” Realizing that hadn’t come out right when Jack choked and Elly’s lioness growled louder, I added hurriedly, “Like, literally, relaxing me. With his power. I was freezing in this dress.” The growling died down, and I gently pushed her out the window when I smelled Tom on the wind. “I’ll see you tonight, Elly.”
She still glared at Ezra, but nodded, her nostrils flaring, and she quickly turned to stop Tom’s progress. Things had changed. I knew this as I rolled the window up. I wasn’t completely used to it — I probably never would be — but I knew why every Shifter treated me differently. I was their Prodigy. I had the power. It had altered my relationship with Elly. Not purposely, but it was undeniable. My mastery of being able to hide my Shifter power was even more important to me now, but it was still a work in progress.
Jack murmured, “Well, I do believe you have some clue what relations are going to be like from now on.” He chuckled, a few snorts categorical from the backseat.
Ezra slowly joined him, sputtering, “He squawks? Sweetheart, what were you thinking?”
I groaned, banging my head back against the headrest a few times. “I wasn’t.” I paused, and then added honestly, “I ended up wanting fowl for dinner. It was like he was prey.”
They thought that hilarious.
Arriving at the high-rise commercial building in downtown New York City, I parked in a parking garage a block away. Pearl was still laughing her butt off as we exited the Hummer, Jack and Ezra having a dandy time retelling what had happened. I took it like a champ, almost completely ignoring their ribbing. I shivered as I stepped into the frigid air, only then noticing Ezra must have gifted me with his power the entire drive there. Oddly, the others hadn’t complained about the chill.
Blinking slowly, I glanced back inside the car, comprehending that they hadn’t complained because the heat had still been on low. It was warm enough for a Mys, but Ezra’s added power had kept me oblivious. Wrapping my jacket tighter around my shivering frame, I slammed my door and locked it. Next time, I was going to wear pants when it was this cold, even if I had to dress up.
Pearl was wiping her eyes — still chuckling — and I reached up, fixing a smudge of her shimmering gold lipstick, which she had screwed up smooching forever with Gideon. “There.” I shoved my hands in my pockets as the guards surrounded us. “No one will know you had your tongue down your mate’s throat for a half-hour.” I smiled sweetly.
Said tongue peeked out in a rude gesture. Yep. That was the perfect golden doll.
As we exited onto the streets, everyone’s eyes turned in our direction. Stared. Nearly all Commoners, only a few Mysticals in the mix. Like, a ten-to-one ratio.
I shivered, and it wasn’t just because of the nippy weather.
Pearl walked next to me, Ezra in front of us, Jack behind, and a shit ton of guards — a mixture of Mysticals all dressed in black — stalked in a protective box around us.
Weirdly, it felt like the longest walk of my life. Even though I had lived with Coms the majority of said life, anxiety still crept up my spine, stiffening my shoulders. I shouldn’t have felt threatened, but there it was: my stomach was a churning mess as I eyed the Coms. Living longer lives was nothing when we were so few compared to them.
None of us spoke as we walked that one block. As if at once, the four of us understood the severity of our positions. No jacking around like we had been on the drive there.
Instead, we walked and acted like who we were.
Prodigies, the soon-to-be Kings and Queens, of the Mystical world.
Chapter Seven
“Follow me, please,” the concierge Com mumbled, a slight tremor in her voice, her eyes wide on her chubby face. She marched in front of us, leading our way to the elevators. Her hands were slightly shaking and she walked so fast her breathing became labored. She punched the elevator button repeatedly, staring straight ahead at the doors.
We piled in when they opened, the four of us standing with our backs against the far wall as six guards squeezed in with us, blocking the view of the doors, while the other guards took the stairs, and would probably beat us to the floor the meeting was on.
I peered up at Jack, hearing the lady’s heart race at being stuck in here with all of us.
Us, the petrifying Mysticals.
Jack’s lips were thin, his face blank, but he still rolled his eyes at her behavior.
Pearl tried to maneuver to check her reflection in the mirror as the elevator started rising, but there wasn’t any room so, instead, she sighed heavily, sulking.
Ezra just stared forward. Mute.
Exiting the elevator, I saw that the floor was posh with thick champaign-hued carpet, the walls painted a shade darker and with golden art hanging expertly, all of which made our other guards who had beaten us there stand out in their black attire. The concierge charged right past the receptionist, and we followed. The floor plan was open, no walled cubicles, and we walked between rows of desks that sported flat screen monitors and where the employees had paused in their typing, the place silent as they gawked. We ignored them. This was a prestigious law firm in New York City, but I couldn’t remember the name.
What I did remember was that the Kings used this law firm and, apparently, most of the parents of the up-and-coming individuals we were meeting today — influential Americans — used this law firm, too. The firm was co-owned by a Com and a Mys, so it was even ground to meet on. Plus, the lawyer owners would be sitting in the meeting to keep conversation rolling. Lawyers loved to talk, so hopefully there wouldn’t be too many lulls. Pretty genius on the Kings’ part.
Stopping at the back wall of the large, airy office, the concierge opened one of the doors. The dark, hard wood of it banged against the inside wall, she flung it in such haste. She flinched at the sound, but gestured for us to enter, saying, “They’re inside waiting for you.”
The four of us didn’t move.
We let half of our guards go in first, and only when one came out, giving us the all clear, did we move. Their job of a quick sweep was accomplished, shutting blinds, checking any food, yada, yada. We had been dealing with this for three months now. We knew the drill.
The other three went in before me, my steps slower, and I heard chairs squeaking as the occupants stood in greeting. My progress halted next to Pearl as I scanned the conference room where we were to converse and be stuck for an undefined amount of time.
First, my gaze went to the guards that weren’t ours. They looked professional, and overboard in number. Good to know we weren’t directly trusted. While we, at least, had an excuse for ours, having been previously attacked, they did not.
Second, I took a quick inventory of the individuals we were here to meet. I ignored the owners, identifying them by their pristine black suits, and their familiarity and proximity of one another. That left three men and two women, their ages seeming to range in the twenties.
The Mys Mage owner strolled forward with the Com owner, taking the reins, and held his hands out, stating, “Prodigies, it’s an honor to meet you and to have you here.” He bowed his head slightly, politely. “I’m Kris Terry and thi
s is,” a pat on the Com owner’s shoulder, “Blake McMullen.” The Com dipped his head respectfully, saying much the same in welcome. Kris continued, ushering us farther into the room. “I’ll make the introductions, if that’s alright?” Yeah, like we were going to stop him.
He gestured toward the first woman. She looked like the youngest in the room. Brown hair, glasses, and a pencil suit, which appeared tailored so as to fit her small frame. She reminded me of a mouse. “This is Beatrice Brantley. Her father’s Senator Brantley. She’s currently enrolled at NYU and aspires to follow in her father’s footsteps once her schooling is complete.”
A hand wave to the next woman. She looked about twenty-eight. Auburn hair, regal features, and a lithe body. She reminded me of a giraffe. “This is Justice Francis. Her mother is Justice Avery Francis.” Ah. Explained her name. “She’s a lawyer, working toward judge.” Also following in Mommy’s footsteps.
The next individual was a man around twenty-eight, though when I saw his dark eyes I judged he could have been a little older. Black hair, handsome, and a muscular physique. He reminded me of a wolf. “This is Philip Masterson. Congressman.” No other words were needed.
An arm swing to the man standing farthest from us. Brown, curly hair, which looked like no matter how short he cut it, it would always have a tight curl. He appeared about twenty-five. He seemed really familiar and reminded me of a koala bear. I squinted at his slightly rounded face that had yet to lose all baby fat, which did not bode well for him. “This is Curtis Moore.” Oh. My. God! “The President’s son.” The newly elected, first-term President’s son.
The last guy was dark complected, had hawkish features — the animal he blatantly reminded me of — and was short for a Com man, but seemed to take up more space than he ought to. Dark hair, brown eyes, and slender. He looked around twenty-nine. “This is Arthur Lamar. He’s currently on leave from the Army, so he was able to attend today, but may leave early depending on how long we’re here for, since his wife just gave birth to their first child, Makalu, only yesterday. His father is General Lamar.” Oh. His daddy worked directly under the President. Any President.
Well. Dang. Furthermore, the most remarkable part was they appeared even more nervous than us. Guess we had better game faces. Either that, or I had too much Com in me, and I was the only Prodigy in awe. I kept it at bay, staying cool.
Kris introduced Pearl, Jack, and Ezra, but when he introduced me, I had their full and absolute attention. My picture still hadn’t been splashed over the news, only my name, so I was the new one they hadn’t seen before. Here I was, standing next to three extremely fine Mys specimens, and all the Coms could do was eye me, their shock poorly hidden. Perfect. Even Coms thought I was a freak.
Kris straightened his tie, hurriedly turning to Blake. Guess it was the other owner’s turn to take the lead. Blake nodded to Kris, and turned to all of us, saying, “Please, take a moment to talk amongst yourselves.” That was it.
It was enough, though. The Coms unfroze, moving around the table, professional enough in politics to quit gaping.
Justice went straight to Jack.
Beatrice straight to Ezra.
Arthur and Curtis beelined toward Pearl.
I almost snickered — some things never change — as I started to take my jacket off, the room a bit stuffy. Not even a beat later, I felt warm hands graze my bare shoulders, helping me with my jacket. I stilled for a second and glanced over my shoulder, my silent hilarity gone at the unfamiliar touch. It was Philip. The handsome Congressman.
His lips curved in a small smile, his teeth straight and white, as he slid my leather coat the rest of the way off. He placed it over the back of a chair, his gaze cast downward, but since he was six feet tall, I saw his eyes traveling over me. Covertly, but still, he was checking me out. Leaning back against the table, between chairs, and crossing his arms, he stated bluntly, “So you’re the mysterious Shifter everyone’s been trying to get the details on.” He cocked his head, a black strand of hair falling over an eye. “You don’t have two heads, nor are you nine feet tall, like some were guessing.”
“Only one head here,” my lips twitched, “and I’m much shorter than nine feet tall.”
He stared. “Yes, you are. You’re also very beautiful.” His eyes were intense. Like dark chocolate. They crinkled at the edges as his lips curved. “That’s not a line. I’m just stating fact.”
My eyebrows rose. “I’m not sure if I should say thank you if it wasn’t a compliment, only fact.” I gave him the same smile he had given me.
He watched me a moment longer, then chuckled softly. “You may be little, but you’re no push over.” He rubbed his chin, his eyes assessing. “How old are you, Lily? You don’t look as old as your colleagues.” His gaze continued roving my features.
“I’m nineteen.” Granting that I felt like a hundred in life experiences. Nineteen was only a number. “And you?”
His eyes dipped to my lips. Stayed there. “Not as young as you, but not quite over the hill.” He grinned as I chuckled. He definitely wasn’t anywhere near old, appearing as good as he did, and he knew it too, his eyes sparkling. “Tell me, Lily the Beautiful — that was a line, by the way — would you care to—”
“Lily, I need your help with my jacket,” Jack interrupted. He smiled at Philip in apology, but his brown eyes were frosty. He turned his back to me, pointing behind his head at his collar. “It’s stuck on my necklace.” Lie. He had a collared shirt on, which he was blatantly showing Philip.
Someone was feeling overprotective. I was positive Philip had been about to ask me out for coffee or lunch or something else equally mundane, and I was sure Jack had sensed it too. I enjoyed the humor of the gesture, and proceeded to “help” Jack take his jacket off. By the time this was done, Ezra was speaking with Philip, distracting him.
As if I needed the help, gentlemen.
I wouldn’t do anything with Coms, except drink from them when the mood finally suited. Only bagged blood for me still. Besides, I would probably break a Com if anything ever went past a date. Which I didn’t want, even if the Com was as nice-looking as Philip Masterson.
All in all, the first half of the afternoon went well.
I had been thrown into senior classes at King Hall — no more Creative Writing degree for me — taking three years’ worth of Political Science courses all at once. My brain was fried — it would continue to be until graduation — from all the studying I had done over the last few months, but those courses definitely helped me understand the conversations.
When placed in a room full of politicians, what did one talk about?
Politics, of course.
Thank God, I hadn’t been sleeping in class. Much.
I kept mildly quiet during the discussions, but answered questions intelligently — I hoped — when asked. The most vocal of the Coms were Philip, Arthur, and Justice. Beatrice was quiet, but spoke logically, and none of her questions were at all offensive. Surprisingly — stereotype, whatever — the person who I thought would have the most to say, Curtis, was the mime of the group. He nodded, or gestured with a hand, but I was pretty sure he only said four sentences in the two and a half hours we sat there. I wasn’t sure if it was because he was of the quiet, brainy sort, or if it was because he was nowhere near as clever as his father, the President. Time would eventually tell.
Jack primarily led our side of the discussion, Pearl adding factual input only from time to time. Ezra, like me, spoke when he was spoken to. I don’t know if it was the mystery he exuded, but anytime he spoke, everyone quieted and listened. I didn’t feel him using his power, so it was just him they seemed impressed by. Me, they listened to the same, but added a cocking of their heads, watching me like I was the sideshow at a circus. In other words, I didn’t get the impression they were awestruck by little ol’ me.
All except Philip. Every look he gave me, or word he spoke in my direction, expressed a quiet, yet confident, interest. One out of five wasn’t ba
d, even if the interest was more personal. I could work with that.
Justice spoke of the Mys/Com treaty and keeping it as strong as it had been for the past thirty years. The rest of the Coms jumped onboard the topic, seeming earnest in their agreement to keep the peace. The same held true for us. No-one wanted another war, or even another of the ten years after that bloody upheaval where an uneasy truce had followed before the treaty was signed. Because of this, I could tell they all knew about the attack that had taken place, but they carefully skirted the conversation around it, only once briefly glancing to me, expressing their sympathies. Justice, by the same token, had unique ideas about integrating our Laws with Com laws to make a more unified nation, but I wasn’t positive anyone — Com or Mys — was ready for that.
Arthur wanted to talk about integrating more Mysticals in to the United States of America’s defense departments. We carefully edged around the notion. The last thing we were going to do right now was hand over our people to make Com armies stronger. Maybe, in the far, far off future, we could talk about keeping Mys and Coms safe together, but not when there was a Com group targeting us and we didn’t know who the head of the extremist group was.
Simply put, we didn’t trust them right now.
That would take time, and this was only the first, tiny step.
Exiting the building, we were again ogled.
Pearl peered longingly at a boutique across the street, but kept quiet. The streets here were so busy. So full of Coms. If they mobbed us right then, we were goners. No matter how powerful we were.
Wind whipped through the gaps between the bodyguards, ruffling my hair, and I hunkered down in my jacket, hating that I felt fearful. Like I had much of my life. It felt like a never-ending battle, but I knew tricks in dealing with it. Imagining a safe place, warm and protected, helped to keep me together. Sadly, my life growing up had somewhat prepared me for this.
Jack sighed behind Pearl and me, his words quiet. “I’m hungry. I didn’t have breakfast.”
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