Peter hardly glanced at his surroundings. "I did not come here to eat, Mr. Bendis," he said, waving away the menu the waiter offered. "My time is valuable. And in short supply."
"Then we will get down to business," Paul said, as Peter sat in the chair the waiter pulled out for him.
"A drink, then?" Paul offered.
"No," Peter replied briefly. "What we have to talk about will not take long." When the waiter was gone, Peter continued, "Donald Wallbrook works for me. He sells things for me, if you understand."
"I've been Wallbrook's lawyer for many months now," Paul said evenly, wondering if he should refer to his "prize" client as Presto, like everyone else. "I assume he gave you my card."
"He did," Peter said, with a subtle smile Paul found unnerving. "He has told me what an excellent lawyer you are. There are others besides Presto who work for me. They may need your services, as well, in the not too distant future."
Okay, here it comes, Paul thought, clearing his throat. "My rates are not cheap. I'm sure Presto has already told you."
"He has. I will need a lawyer on call, twenty-four hours a day. Do you carry a pager?"
Paul had given up his pager a year before, as it tended to go off at the most inopportune times. It was easier to explain an ignored cellular phone call, which did not store the caller's number.
"You can reach me on my carphone or at my office. An answering service will call me if it's an emergency. The system works rather well, as Presto has certainly told you."
However, Peter didn't seem pleased. "I suppose that will have to do, since you are the best. Soon there will be an increase in business, within the week. My people will be moving large quantities of product, if you catch my meaning. There may be complications."
Peter removed an envelope from his coat pocket and handed it to Paul. When he opened it, he found a cashier's check for ten thousand dollars.
"Is that sufficient for a retainer?" Peter asked softly, getting to his feet.
"Ten thousand? It certainly is," Paul said, getting to his feet. "Here is my card, again, with all pertinent numbers. How can I reach you?"
"That won't be necessary," Peter said, taking the card and putting it in a coat pocket without reading it. "I will call you if I need you. Good night, Mr. Bendis."
Peter Pritchard turned and left the restaurant as Paul watched, mildly confused.
Secretive prick, he thought, and shrugged. But for a ten thousand dollar retainer, he can be as secretive as he wants.
Sammi McDaris listened to the conversation between Peter and Paul with extreme interest, while a reel-to-reel recorder taped it all. Sammi and Roach monitored the radio equipment while a young rookie sat in the van's driver's seat, keeping a watch for surly types coming out of the restaurant. They'd parked in an alley across the street, but had a lousy view of the entrance.
Roach uttered a low whistle when Paul mentioned the check. "Ten grand? For a lawyer? Must be some heavy shit getting ready to go down."
Sammi stared at the tape recorder, as if Zeldan's image would suddenly jump from it and tell her what was on his mind. "Wonder why the sudden interest in lawyers," she said, more to herself than to her partner. Then she turned and addressed him directly. "Roach, I think you're right. But do we have enough evidence for a search warrant?"
"On the basis of this tape?" He scratched his head and loosened his already loosened tie. "Doubt it. Did they ever mention coke? No. How trustworthy is that waiter you had plant that bug?"
Sammi was embarrassed to say that she wasn't sure, and regretted using a human for what an elf might have done more efficiently with magic. The waiter had a pending drug charge, and she had arranged for a little leniency if he cooperated. The waiter had put a tiny radio transmitter under the table when Bendis appeared. She knew that Paul Bendis frequented this restaurant, and they had hoped to get some choice bits of incriminating evidence on tape.
She had no idea Zeldan was going to be his dinner guest, even when they caught a glimpse of "Peter" going into the restaurant. True, he was in his human seeming, but as soon as she heard the voice and sensed the dark Unseleighe presence from within the restaurant, she knew who she was dealing with.
"No, I guess not," Sammi said, trying to sound disappointed. She knew that what they'd learned was better than any evidence they might have on Bendis; this indicated something major afoot, something that would happen soon.
Question is, how much does it involve Daryl, or Adam, and the Avalon elves?
Chapter Fifteen
Feeling depressed and gloomy, Adam pulled the Geo into the driveway, after having driven in silence from the New You Fitness Center. Marbann, apparently sensing his mood, did not attempt conversation. During the drive over, Adam had nearly formulated a plan of evacuation, which would take the clan to another continent, England, or even Ireland, where they might live in relative isolation from the Unseleighe in the humans' world. Or perhaps they might reenter Underhill and plead with Outremer or some of the other, larger clans for sanctuary. Avalon had been separated from the other clans by choice for so long that he didn't know if they would even be welcomed.
The force Adam had seen in the Unseleighe's eyes, however briefly, was enough to convince him.
Zeldan is too powerful to defeat. To confront him would mean certain death for myself and the clan.
Retreat was the only option, Adam decided. He kept this to himself, because he knew Marbann would violently argue in the negative, that the only chance they had was to take Zeldan directly. This he had already argued, and Adam had no reason to believe anything had changed.
Also, the nagging question of, what would Father do? kept at him. Would Father run in defeat? Hardly. He had had the opportunity to flee before Avalon fell and had fought to the bitter end.
Now, the new King considered fleeing before the battle had even begun.
Adam hated and feared Zeldan and his forces, but when it got down to it, what he feared the most was his own failure.
What to do? The question continued to roll around in his mind while he and Marbann entered the house and greeted the clan.
"You look grim," Moira observed when he and Marbann entered the living room. "What happened today?"
She sat in one of the couches next to Niamh, who was busy playing dual Gameboys with Petrus. Wenlann was crocheting something in the corner, smiled when she glanced up, and went back to her work. The complete lack of concern the scene presented was enough to help Adam forget his worries, at least for a moment.
"Is Lady Samantha home yet?" Marbann asked, though Adam already knew she wasn't. The older elf had yet to make the connection between the presence and absence of certain automobiles and what that had to do with where the owner might be.
"She's working late," Adam said. "On some stakeout work." Involving Paul Bendis. He didn't want to think about what this might have to do with Daryl.
The encounter with Zeldan left him with a total feeling of helplessness, and he hoped his body language didn't reveal this. But Moira was far more observant than he'd given her credit for.
Moira pursued the issue a little more aggressively. "Adam, what happened? We're involved in this too, you know."
Adam doubted that she'd meant that viciously, but it still dug. Yeah, don't I know we're all involved, he thought morosely.
"I saw Zeldan Dhu today," Adam said dismally, taking what had become his "throne," near the Sony. All motion ceased in the room; the Gameboys ran on auto, beeping and chiming as all faces turned to Adam.
"Did he see you?" Petrus asked, his voice quavering with terror.
Adam shook his head. "He did not see me, I don't think. But I saw more than I cared to."
He had yet to share this insight with Marbann, who regarded him curiously. "Do continue, young King," Marbann said. "You were rather silent during the journey over here. I sense you've come to some decisions regarding our future."
Damn his perceptiveness, Adam thought, but did not find it in himself to be angry. Even consider
ing retreat felt like a failure, and Marbann's harsh look made it difficult to continue.
"Marbann and I followed my human friend Daryl to an establishment, which now appears to be a front for dealing Black Dream."
Moira sucked in her breath, while the others showed various degrees of concern. "We knew it was happening," Moira said. "This . . . establishment. You discovered the Unseleighe nest, didn't you?"
Adam nodded, shifted uncomfortably in the chair, and willed the room, which had become rather warm, to chill a few degrees. "Aye," Adam said dismally. "I got a glimpse of the power these elves have."
Marbann regarded him with amusement. "Is that what's been bothering you? I admit, I felt it too, but I didn't think their power that great."
"Tell me," Adam said, eyeing him directly, and for once Marbann's look wandered. "Do you think you can defeat Zeldan Dhu?"
"I don't know," Marbann said. "But if you're concerned about what you saw, or rather, felt, let me explain. . . ."
Adam was not convinced. "I saw the power that dwelled in their nest," he said, but Marbann waved him to silence.
"The power was stolen from human pain," Marbann insisted. "That much I know. And as such, it is unpredictable and difficult to direct. Do not think for a moment that it is greater than the forces you have at your command."
Marbann was being insubordinate, but Adam saw no skillful way to call him on it. Instead, he decided to drop his proposal on everyone present.
"I think that we, as a clan, should leave this human city. We cannot survive another battle with Zeldan Dhu. We must begin to look for a new haven."
Having said that, Adam tried to look his clan in the face and found with alarm that he could not. Why? he thought frantically. I have their interests as well as my own to consider. . . .
Somehow, the argument didn't wash with himself.
"No," Marbann said. "Zeldan must die. We cannot rest until—"
"I am not running from Unseleighe ever again!" Niamh said. "I'm not, I'm not!"
"Do you really think he will just quit looking for us?" Moira interjected. "Running from him doesn't appeal to me, I'll have you know. I was looking forward to seeing his blood on my blade!" Already Adam was regretting his statement.
"Retreat. Before the battle even begins?"
All looked up at Samantha, who had just entered the living room. Adam hadn't noticed her arrival, and her sudden appearance made him quite uncomfortable indeed. Her look, a wintry glare that chilled his blood, reminded him why.
Gods, I haven't even considered her opinion on this. . . . he thought, wishing he might recall the words.
"And who have you consulted in this matter?" Samantha advanced into the room, her aura sparking with anger and something else—a tangible fury Adam usually associated with thunderstorms. She took a seat near him, but despite her wrath, she still looked weary. With a wave of her hand, she dismissed her human seeming and regarded Adam with her full elven features.
"I know that you are frightened of Zeldan Dhu," she said, softer than he had expected. "And to a certain extent I am also. He is an abomination to the entire elven race."
Adam felt his authority slipping, but in the presence of the elf who used to be his human "mother" this felt natural, if not inevitable. There are still buttons she can push. She had years to install them.
Samantha's expression seemed to soften, and she continued, "But you are the King, and it is wrong of me to criticize your decision." She walked over to the buffet, and among the antique knickknacks she selected a small wooden box and handed it to Adam.
As he examined it, he began to see what a delicate work of art it was. The rectangular box, small enough to fit in his palm, was a mosaic of inlaid wood, forming a dozen or so five-pointed stars. When he saw that the hinge was not metal, but carved wood, he said, "This is from Underhill, isn't it?"
"It is. Open it."
Inside was a light blue crystal, tipped with four facets. As it caught the light, a rainbow spread down his arm.
"It is a memory crystal, which your father sent with Wenlann before Zeldan defeated him. I was to give it to you when you were further along in your studies, but now your hasty decision has forced my hand."
Adam opened his mouth to ask, How do you use this? Then he remembered.
He closed both hands around it and reached for it as he would reach a node; the crystal pulsed in his hand, and he saw a deep blue light trickling between his fingers, illuminating his hands from within.
The images came swiftly, moving like the swift current of a shallow river, before he focused on what he perceived was the primary image in the recording; his father's last memories surged into his mind.
"Close your eyes," Samantha said. "The images will be easier to see."
As he did so, he dropped into a sea-vertigo, and relived his father's last thoughts. . . .
. . .this is the last message I will ever send you, dear son. All is lost here, as I record this crystal. Your mother has died and soon I will, too, but what is important is that you take the clan to safety. . . .
At the edges of the message Adam caught glimpses of the small room he'd last seen his father in, falling dust, the tremor of levin bolts. The memory sickened him, and saddened him, as this was the last thing his father saw.
Zeldan Dhu will pursue you until he finds you and kills you, and once that is done, he will kill the rest of the others, and there will be no Avalon.
Adam wrestled with himself, wanting to drop the damned piece of crystal and wanting to hear the rest. Grief welled within him as his father's thoughts mixed with his own; it felt, for a moment, like he was still alive, offering fatherly advice.
Do not misunderstand me, my dearest son. I want you to find safety in the humans' world, but once you've established yourself there, you must make yourself strong and attack Zeldan. Soon, and quickly. If you don't attack, he will surely kill you. That is the only way you will survive, and this request is the only gift I can give the elfhame, in my dying breath. Find Zeldan and—
That was all. The message ended abruptly, replaced by darkness.
"No!" Adam shouted, opening his eyes. He dropped the crystal and tried to stand up; dizziness and fatigue prevented him from going too far. Father . . . he thought through the tears, as the loss of his father once again tore an open wound in his chest.
"There, there," Samantha said soothingly, and he felt her arms close around him. He leaned into her and returned the embrace, fighting back the sobs, then surrendering to them completely.
Several minutes later, he looked up into Samantha's face, this time with fierce determination.
"I didn't think I had any tears left," he said through the anger that replaced the grief. "Those may be the last for a long, long time."
Samantha stroked his hair, a motherly gesture that had calmed him in times of human crisis in the past. The elfhame surrounded him with expressions of concern.
This is no way for a King to behave.
He stood, successfully this time, and went into the bathroom. There he washed his face with cold water, twice, as if this would sweep the grief away. It helped; at least his eyes weren't as red. He noticed something else, too, a change in his face that went beyond the tears he'd recently shed. He saw anger, and determination. Leadership, and an awakening.
I'm not afraid of Zeldan Dhu.
Then, Zeldan Dhu murdered my family. I will not allow him to kill any more of us.
And, If we don't act now, he will.
Adam returned to the living room, where a sea of hopeful faces greeted him. Composed, he seated himself in his usual chair. The memory crystal was in the wooden box, which was open and sitting on the coffee table.
"I think I might have made a decision in haste, without consulting the clan. As Samantha has pointed out." He paused, wondering briefly where this would go. His mouth ran on, seemingly on its own volition. "My father knew Zeldan well," he continued, eyeing the wooden box with a raised eyebrow. "As I should also have known
, having seen his work so far.
"We must summon our energies and strike Zeldan and his Unseleighe with everything we have."
The resultant cheer drowned out his next thought. The reaction wasn't something he expected, and he blushed with pride.
Finally, I've done something right, he thought, grateful for his father's insight. He wondered if a bit of Father had just rubbed off on him during the memory transference.
"I'm uncertain where to begin. Suggestions, anyone?"
Niamh raised a hand tentatively, then spoke. "There is something I wanted to bring up earlier. It may make a difference when we confront Zeldan."
Everyone turned to Niamh attentively.
"Yes?" Samantha said. "Go ahead."
"Well," Niamh began, visibly flustered by the newfound attention, "it's the weapon. Long ago, before there was ever a threat from Zeldan, Avalon appropriated—"
"Stole," Samantha corrected.
"Okay, stole this weapon from a human school. In California, I think it was."
"I recall the project," Samantha said. "The technicians in charge of it were killed in Zeldan's first wave, but this was what happened. The creator of the weapon, a college boy not much older than our King, had second thoughts about its use. One of the Seleighe, then doing a reconnaissance of that region of North America, came across the lad, and when they learned what he had, they made arrangements for its disappearance."
Adam was confused, and let it show. "What weapon? What does it do?"
"It was originally meant to amplify light. The humans call such a device a laser, and they are common now, used in medicine and the making of things. What made this device unique was that, with a few adjustments, the device was capable of amplifying node power."
Adam stared at her, then broke out of the mental fog the concept induced. "Node power? This made it more . . ."
"Concentrated. The Seleighe techs who came across the device were fascinated by its properties and were interested in a peaceful use for it. But when they brought it to Underhill, it refused to work."
"I know where they keep it," Niamh said smugly. "In fact, it was—"
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