“Ayaan, please show these young ones to my suite.”
I frowned. Madam Fremont was looking dreadfully pale.
“See to it that the party from Elliot receives all the xenia that…that they…deserve.”
Now Madam Fremont’s whole body was sagging. A look of concern flashed across Ayaan’s face. She was at Madam Fremont’s side in a heartbeat.
“I’m fine, my love,” Fremont said waving her off. “I could just do for a supper. Students, the young ambassador’s manners may be woefully lacking, but his kitchen is quite capable. Call upon us in an hour. I would be quite honored if you sit with me at the head of the table.”
“Nice landing,” Dante whispered—he’d snuck up behind us in the confusion.
“Nice back up,” I said.
“Bud, I was monitoring the situation.”
“And now you’re here to bask in Jules’ glory?”
“It’s so nice and warm,” Dante said with a grin.
I laughed.
Jules growled. “Fockers, both of ye,” she grumbled.
+
Ayaan led us up the alumni club’s double staircase and into a well-appointed suite on the third story of the hotel. It had two full bedrooms and an enormous living room. A dark-hued piano sat primly on the white marble. All the fixtures were gold. Five travel chests took up most of the open space near the entryway. I counted stickers from over twenty different countries. Some of the places I’d never even heard of. Still not uttering a word, Ayaan knelt down to the nearest one and flipped open the clasps. Out came gown after fantastic gown. Jules eyes widened as Ayaan piled the vibrant hues one atop the next on the couch.
“Wow,” Dante said. “There’s money—and then there’s money.”
Jules let out a little gasp as a gold one was tossed by the wayside. “Ms. Ayaan, this really isn’t necessary.”
With a look of disgust, Ayaan tossed the matching gold and yellow parasol across the room.
“We’d do fine with some sandwiches and showers,” Jules said, ducking the mayhem, “ya don’t have to go through all this trouble.”
Dante and I nodded vigorously. Dinner parties were scary. Pizza parties were safe.
Ayaan gave Jules a placating pat on the head but then shook her head no.
Acknowledging defeat, Jules plopped down on the couch and sighed.
“I don’t even have me brush. I’m gonna look ridiculous.”
“Wait, you own a brush?”
Jules glared at me over her wire-rimmed glasses.
Ayaan rooted around for another five minutes before letting loose a guttural purr. Pulling out a sparkling emerald ball gown, she rushed over to hold it against Jules.
“Oi, Ms. Ayaan, that be too pricy!”
Ignoring her pleas, Ayaan pulled the young witch off the couch and dragged her into the master bedroom.
“So what are we supposed to do?” I asked as Jules cries became muffled.
“Order room service, of course. There’s no way I’m going down there.” Dante plopped onto the couch. “Hey, you think this place has a Fujistation 4?”
Popping her head out of the bedroom, Ayaan hit Dante in the head with a bar of soap.
She gestured to the other bedroom and let out an hiss.
“So I guess we’re going too…”
“This is exactly why I was hiding. You people are cursed.”
+
Exiting the shower, I parted my hair to check on Rei’s pokey holes. I drew in a breath at the sight. Rei’s fang marks were gone. I don’t mean faded; I mean totally gone. A little shiver ran down to my toes. How could I have healed so fast? I mushed my hair back in place. The finer points of Vampirosporin™ could wait for later. Right now I had to do something about my rather ragged appearance.
Now, I don’t think I’m a bad looking guy. I’m tall, I’ve got some strong German cheekbones, and my teeth are in tidy rows. I run whenever I can. I do pushups each and every morning. I don’t have a heavy build, but I’m not a wet noodle either. My image issues really start and end with my hair. The brown mop grows like a weed on steroids. No sooner do I cut it then it’s springing up on end. It didn’t help that I hadn’t been shaving recently. I looked like I’d spent the past few months in a log cabin training for a fight against Ivan Drago. To be honest, I hadn’t even been bothering with mirrors recently. My job was to cast spells and not melt anyone’s face off. But no matter how much I didn’t want to admit it, Ambassador Balcon’s comments were kinda bugging me. It was as though he thought I wasn’t even capable of looking decent.
I lathered up my face and started working through the scruff.
Dante didn’t share my concerns. He was in our suite’s giant bathtub making bubbles.
“How old are you?” I asked.
“Eighteen—but I plan on turnin’ seven next year.” He grinned and squirted water at me. “Besides, this may be the last time I get to play in a tub.”
With the assignment we’d been gifted, Dante’s was a fair point.
“Hey, did you see those DEA agents by the fireplace? Should we be worried?”
Dante was building a pile of soap bubbles on his head. He plopped another lump on top.
“Maybe. The bandaged guy is probably on leave. Doubt he cares for shit. But the other two? They’re definitely not from Collins’ division. The one with the pockmarks all over his face is named Jasper Tools. Francesca Reckling was the tall woman with the orange hair sleeping next to him. Agent Tools is a hard ass. If he figures out who we are, he’ll probably drag us with him to the front. We’d be stuck defending Salt Lake or Phoenix.” Dante frowned. “Wait…maybe we should let Agent Tools catch us. The frontline sounds safer.”
“How the heck did you figure out their names?” I asked. “Did you skim the registry?”
“Na.” Dante chuckled. “All the known weft-pairs are famous, bud.”
“Weft-pairs?” I paused mid-shave. “Sorry, what?”
Dante shrugged and his leaning tower of suds toppled.
“I collected their trading cards growing up. I bet the binder is still hiding under my parent’s couch.”
“Weft-pairs have trading cards?”
“Yea, the cards list their stats and stuff: Tier rankings. Favored elements. Known kills. You know, the usual.”
“Right. The usual.” Weft-pair trading cards? My mind was racing. Could pairs somehow sense other pairs? Could Jasper and Francesca figure out that Rei and I had weft? “Hey, Dante, wouldn’t it be better if they kept that sort of stuff a secret?”
“Sure, that is why I said all the known weft-pairs. Like Collins and Masterson.”
“Collins and Masterson are a pair…wait, are you serious?”
“Yea, of course. They’re two of the DEA’s finest. But to answer your other question, some weft-pairs do prefer to work in secret. But there can’t be too many like that. I mean, don’t you think it would be kinda obvious? You know, like those idiots at Elliot that think they’re keeping their relationships a secret?”
I knicked my neck with the razor.
“Careful there, bud. Don’t want Rei busting in here for a lick.”
“Funny, Dante. But you’re telling me that there’s no way to tell two people have wefted?”
“You’d have to see them casting. Weft-pairs use different tactics than lone mages.”
I let out a giant sigh of relief. So I just needed to avoid casting around Rei. That was simple enough. She wouldn’t let me do that anyway.
“So Jasper and Francesca are a big deal?”
“Yea. Total badasses. They got real famous after taking out a circle of poser necromancers ten years ago. But, bud, could you imagine living like that?”
“Living like what?” I was still trying to process the ‘poser necromancers’ part.
“I mean, yea, pairs are badass, but they hear each others’ thoughts and shit. Sadie’s parents—God rest ‘em—they took us all out to eat last year. Dieter, her dad knew exactly when to pass the
potatoes to her mom. She didn’t even have to ask. Not a word. Wouldn’t that freak you out?”
I frowned. “What, passing the potatoes? Isn’t that the foundation of all relationships?”
Dante threw some suds at me. “No, man, I mean the freaking mind reading.”
I nodded. My own damn weft had just afforded me a public slapping.
“Yea, that can be kinda annoying.”
“How would you know?” Dante let out a laugh. “You weft up with Rei or something?”
I froze. I flat out froze.
“Dieter?” Dante’s voice sounded miles away.
Kill him, my child.
I felt like I was falling into an enormous pit.
Kill him before it’s too late.
I looked down to find my left hand creeping towards him.
“No,” I coughed out.
I pinned lefty with my right.
“What?” Dante asked.
“Auraception,” I near shouted. “A weft-link must be like auraception.”
My child, this stratagem is faulty.
Dante turned off the bathtub jets.
“How so?”
“See?” I muttered.
Ah, so he is a simpleton…
“Shut it,” I hissed. The cooky voice in my head could take a suck. I had a chance to steer this the right way. “Dante, when I Sighted you two minutes ago, I saw you were of two minds.”
“Two minds?” he asked.
“The aqua blue sparks I saw matched your pleasure with the bubbles—but the burbling brown shadows behind them indicated that you really needed to take a dump.” This was of course total nonsense. I knew Dante needed to take a dump because we’d been stuck in a car since four o’clock this morning. Dante’s normal deuce arrived at ten AM sharp. I knew this because his foul brand required all Lambda members to perform a daily tactical withdrawal. But Dante’s natural rhythm had been disturbed by our road trip. There had to be a fifteen-car pileup in his oversized colon. The guess wasn’t even a gamble, but Dante looked shocked.
“Jesus! You’re telling me that a distinct emotion is attached to the urge to poop?”
“Totally unique. And now you understand my point. Auraception is probably a lot like wefting. Did I want this knowledge? Of course not. Am I subjected to it anyway? Hell yes.” Again, total nonsense.
“Wow,” Dante said. “It feels like I just stumbled onto another frame. Did you name it?”
“Name it…yea…um…I did. I call it…let’s see…I call it…”
Poop-lust? Deuceness? The Southern glow? There were too many to choose from.
“Bowely! I call it bowely.”
“Bowely?” Dante repeated. “Huh. You’re right, I do feel a bit bowely right now.”
“And that’s my cue to get out of here. Happy baby-making.”
“Dieter, bud, I’m gonna name it after you.”
“Gross.” I shut the bathroom door behind me and sank down to the floor of our bedroom. Wiping off the sweat with my towel, I let out a heavy sigh. That had been too close. Unless I wanted to get both Rei and myself killed, I had to be more careful with my tongue.
In front of me, someone let out a tiny gasp.
Confused, I looked up to find Jules, freshly painted toenails and all. Her blonde curls were done up into an ornate bun, and the elaborate forest green evening gown was now hanging off her shoulders. My eyes widened at the sight of it. It was one ambitious piece of cloth. Layer after layer of shimmering green satin descended from just above her hips. They mimicked the pedals of a flower, and fluttered with the slightest flinch of the skin. Jules had one of her petite arms above her head like a ballerina. The other was filching my deodorant.
“That’s mine,” I said.
“Aye, it is isn’t it…oh, this? Left mine in the car, I did.”
Jules’ brilliant green eyes were surrounded by a splash of smoky violet eyeliner.
I blinked. She knew how to wear eyeliner?
“I thought you hated contacts.”
“Dieter,” she whispered, “it be outdoors.”
“What?”
“Oh. Oh! Me contacts, yes. Me contacts only bug me when I’m outdoors.”
Only trouble with the gown was it was a bit small around the center. Every time Jules took a breath…wow, there they went again.
“They’re so nice and round,” I muttered.
“Nice and round?”
“Your eyes,” I stammered. “You can’t appreciate their roundness when you wear glasses.”
I must have really pissed Jules off…I’d never seen her go purple before.
“Dieter…”
“Jules, I’m so sorry.”
“Oh! Oh, it be fine, Dieter. No worries at all. We both be adults and such.” She smirked. Looked dizzy. Grasped the dresser. “It’s just…I be wonderin’…is it true that they get a lot bigger when they get excited?”
For the first time, I took note of the towel I was holding. The one I’d taken off to wipe off my face. The one that wasn’t around my waist. My heart started beating against my ears. This wasn’t happening. This absolutely, positively, wasn’t happening. I couldn’t be giving my magic tutor the full frontal. I absolutely could not. Not in the nightmares inside my nightmares was that possible…so my brain just sorta went on autopilot and answered her absolutely insane question.
“As a general rule, Jules? Yea.”
“Great glorious Awen.” Jules took in a deep breath. “And here I thought Maria was razzin’ me.”
Putting down my deodorant, she walked straight out the door.
“Shitballs,” I said, burying my head in my hands.
Maybe I should apologize. Say something like:
“Sorry for displayin’ me dongle.”
No.
“I know it’s rude to point.”
No.
“Now you know where I store all that mana.”
Double no.
I decided to just sit there in shock.
A few minutes later, Dante came out of the bathroom whistling.
“Hey, Dieter! I don’t feel bowely anymore.”
“That’s great, Dante,” I said, rubbing out my temples.
“Bud, it got real emotional in there. I’d give that porcelain goddess some time to breath.”
I cinched my towel tighter. The list of tonight’s disasters just seemed to keep growing.
+
Why Madam Fremont’s wardrobe contained suits that fit the both of us was beyond me. Mine was jet black. Dante’s was a dark blue. We picked out some ties, and Ayaan helped us cinch them. Our turnaround had taken under an hour, but I figured we were running late. As I slipped on a pair of shoes, Ayaan was already pointing to her watch with a frown.
“You ready, Jules?” I asked.
“Ready?” Jules had near shouted. “Oh. Oh, yes.” She went to nudge her glasses, realized they weren’t there, and made busy picking at the stitch line of her white dinner gloves.
As Ayaan opened the door and ushered us into the hall, I was feeling pretty nervous. I didn’t know much about fine dining. I’d spent most of my time in the frozen foods aisle. Sure, I’d helped cater a few events, but I only knew how to fill up the water glasses. I’d taken dancing lessons once, but I’d never bothered to learn all that etiquette stuff. Now it was coming back to bite me in the ass. When we reached the stairs, I could already hear the silverware clanking. I took a deep breath. This was going to be bad.
“Dieter,” Dante said, “protocol states that seniors are to be escorted by their apprentices.”
“Do I get to carry a sword?”
“Na, bud, you get to hold an arm.” Dante gave Jules a nudge.
“Oi, Dante, watch it!” she scolded.
I caught her before she took a nosedive down the stairs.
“You okay?” She had shivered a bit when I touched her shoulder.
“That I be,” she said to my chest. “Just no practice in heels.”
“And I’ve no
practice in twenty pieces of freaking silverware.”
Jules’ body felt so warm, and her shoulder fit under my arm, and I could smell my own antiperspirant on her skin, and I was starting to have that feeling you get when you sit in one of those massage chairs at the mall…
“I’ll teach ya proper manners if ya don’t let me fall down the stairs,” she offered.
Dante winked at me. He had his arm intertwined with Ayaan’s. (Apparently, everything was going according to his master plan.)
Getting down the stairs took a lot of time. In such a daring gown, Jules was forced to guess at where her feet were…and Jules was never very good at movement. Still, that didn’t keep her from bossing me about.
“First lesson is ta get yer hands out of yer pockets and stop hunching like that Egor character.”
I frowned. “That’s funny. Rei just—”
“Second lesson is ta pay attention to yer date. And stop starin’ at the floor. Yer not a pauper huntin’ for change.”
“But I’m helping you with your—”
“Not important. Let me fall. Dieter, ya’ve gotta keep yer shoulders back and yer chin high. Look these sorts straight in the nose. Don’t be given ‘em no quarter.”
“I’m guessing the eyes are a no-no?”
“Aye. Some’ll have a talent with the mind.” As we reached the final landing, Jules tugged at the lines of her gown. “Our announcement comes first. Get yer smile on, ya focker.”
“Our announcement?” That part kinda echoed across the dining room. The dinner party had already started, but all the action had halted when our party reached the landing. Seemed like we were a curiosity of sorts. Ayaan descended the last bank of stairs and handed a card to the tuxedo-wearing man waiting below.
“That’s the maître d’,” Jules explained. “When I curtsey, you bow.”
“Right.” I tried to blink away the headache. This dinner party was huge. At least thirty people were seated at the table. All that attention was like a stampede of cymbals to my Sight.
“May I announce Mr. Dieter Resnick, Mr. Jay Dante, and Ms. Jules Nelson of Elliot College. Ms. Ayaan of the Fremont Circle accompanying.”
Guess that’s what we got for using our real names…I wanted to curl up in a ball, but Jules’ nails were already dragging me into a bow. Light applause followed, and the maître d' guy led us over to the far end of the table. Madam Fremont had pride of place at the end of it, and Ayaan took up position behind her.
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