Sons (Book 2)

by Scott V. Duff

  “Um. Woof?” I said quietly, not really knowing how he’d take anything. The scowl he wore said “not well” about everything.

  “Oh, har-de-fucking-har,” he growled through clinched teeth. “You can’t make me wear this in public, Seth. It’s embarrassing! Please!”

  “Oh, yes I can,” I said imperiously. “Don’t forget who is who here.”

  “Come on, Seth,” he said, pleading now. “I feel like a prize poodle on display.”

  “Poodle? Not a chance! Mastiff, maybe, or Rottweiler,” I said, risking a slight grin. I still didn’t want to piss him off. “And I’m sure you’ll win ‘Best in Show’ regardless. Now I’m certain Peter had a good reason for choosing this so be a good boy and heel…” I whirled around in a hurry before I burst out laughing and walked around the car.

  “What did you say to him?” Peter asked me quietly, still caught in Dillon’s embrace.

  I shrugged and said, “Nothing much, we just talked.” Waving generally behind me, I asked, “Is that really necessary?”

  He gave me a crooked grin so I brought up another sheen of Gilán in front of Jimmy. He opted for a New York Yankees shirt and white biker’s shorts with white running shoes.

  “Thank you, Lord Daybreak,” he said after stepping through and losing the collar. “I can face strangers now with some dignity.”

  “You’re welcome, First,” I said simply, evaporating the mirrored surface.

  Dillon finally pulled away from Peter, who looked at him questioningly, still holding him loosely. Peter asked, “What did Seth say to you that’s gotten you so upset?”

  “I’m not upset at all,” Dillon said calmly. “I love you and he just pointed out some things that should have been obvious to me already. Now, you owe me dinner and I’ve never been here before, so let’s go eat.” He grabbed Peter’s hand and started for the door.

  Peter grabbed my shirt as he passed, the shocked look on his face terribly amusing. “What did you say to him?” he hissed, almost reaching brownie levels of pitch.

  “Be more worried about what he told me,” I said, laughing at him as he dragged me along. “At least I have reasons to be chaste.” The look of horror on his face was priceless and Jimmy took full revenge for the collar and leash. He laughed. He laughed loudly all the way to the front door.

  The entryway to the restaurant was a short hallway to a set of double doors with no handles on the outside. On each door, another “Seating by reservation only” sign was bolted to the center top section. To the left of the otherwise nondescript outer doors, set into the wall at about four and a half feet was a simple one-button intercom. There was nothing else but those signs to suggest the purpose of the building. No customers milled around outside or waited at the doors to be seated and no music was pumped out to set the mood for incoming customers either.

  “This is a bit of a gamble,” Dillon said cheerfully. “This is more your kind of crowd than mine.” He pressed the intercom button and waited.

  “May I help you?” a disembodied voice asked.

  “Yes,” Dillon said sweetly. “We’d like a table for McClure, Borland, Monroe and… guest, please.”

  “You must be mistaken, sir. I have no reservation under any of those names,” the disembodied voice said archly, in the manner of the best Victorian butler. I just got the feeling that he’d drown in a light rain shower with his nose up so high in the air.

  “I believe your master will make an exception for Misters McClure and Borland,” Dillon said, staying polite in the face of the man’s snobbery. “You should probably ask him.”

  “Master doesn’t make exceptions, sir,” he said.

  “How did he put an ‘h’ in ‘sir’?” I asked Peter in a whisper, mildly surprised that he was being such a jerk and that Dillon was taking it so well. I wouldn’t have.

  “Still, you should ask,” Dillon said sweetly, rolling his eyes at us. “Otherwise he might be cross with you. I understand the last man to make Master cross spent two hours in room five.”

  After a long pause, the voice answered, “One moment, please.”

  Dillon grinned with satisfaction. “I do hope the food lives up to reputation. I’d hate to go through all this trouble just to be disappointed.”

  “Monroe! What are you playing at?” a gruff voice called through the intercom. This one seemed familiar, but the intercom interfered enough that I couldn’t place it.

  “Nothing,” Dillon said, but not showing offense at the question. “Peter and Seth owe me dinner and Seth said he would come by and visit when he was in the neighborhood. I thought it would be good to kill two birds with one stone.”

  “You’re the only one out there, Monroe,” the voice said harshly.

  “You could barely see him in person…” Dillon said suggestively, smiling broadly. “And why would I lie to you?”

  The left door opened to the sounds of light jazz and a large, brawny man dressed similarly to Jimmy a few minutes ago. “Gentlemen, if you would follow me to the bar, it will be a few minutes while a room more appropriate for you is prepared. Master Trelaine apologizes for the delay and offers his card to prevent any future difficulties. And of course, tonight is compliments of the house, so please feel free to indulge yourselves on anything you see.”

  “This is Trelaine’s business? Great! I like Trelaine,” I said, taking the card from the much nicer man holding the door. Peter was still dragging me by my shirt so I didn’t have to pay much attention to where I was going.

  “You like everybody,” Peter called over his shoulder.

  “I do not!” I argued petulantly. “There must be at least a half-dozen in the world.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Jimmy said to the man at the door. He still had a swagger as he moved past the doorman. Jimmy was either becoming more comfortable in his sexuality, in concept if not in action, or he was totally clueless. “Of course it’s a small number. We’ve seen what happens to the people you don’t like.”

  “Hey! I don’t start anything with anybody,” I said sharply. “Besides, this belittles what Trelaine is doing, so stop it, both of you. He chose a very noble act without reward but the act itself. He’s a good man; show him respect please.”

  “That’s nice to hear from someone like you, Mr. McClure,” a gruff voice said from behind us, the second from the intercom. I recognized it this time.

  “Trelaine,” I said, smiling and shoving out my hand in greeting as I turned. “It’s good to see you again! How are you?”

  The huge, mountainous man smiled at me for the first time with a light that even made his dark eyes brighten a shade or three on his big, round face. Towering over me, he shook my hand without concern to his own strength and, had I not been aware of him, he could have really hurt me. A fresh, white Chef’s coat stretched across his frame, open at the front and revealing a sweaty T-shirt stretched even further across his muscled chest. The man definitely worked his business.

  “Good, sir, I’m good,” he said happily. “Rene, pick your jaw up and do your job!” The bartender jumped, literally. “I didn’t expect to see you again and certainly not so soon.”

  “Neither did I,” I said. “But my brothers and I have had some unexpected successes and now we find ourselves in need of housing and offices and such.”

  “So I may be seeing more of you, then?” he asked hopefully.

  “Possibly,” I said cautiously. “With three different councils, several US agencies, and my own people, demands on our time are increasing daily.” Jimmy handed me a bottle of stout ale, a label I didn’t know. It tasted heavily of hops and lightly of honey.

  “And who is this?” Trelaine asked, curious about how closely Jimmy stuck to me.

  “This is First among my people,” I said turning slightly to present Jimmy on my right. Jimmy bowed at the waist, keeping his eyes on Trelaine’s and smiling politely as he did.

  “You say that as though your ‘people’ are faery, Mr. McClure,” Trelaine said, returning Jimmy’s bow in
precisely equal measure.

  “Indeed,” Jimmy said quietly as he sipped from his bottle, a smirk curling around the edges of his mouth.

  “First, don’t be rude,” I warned him. “Yes, Trelaine, my people are faery. Long story, but it’s just a few of the Wee Ones and they would have died if I hadn’t adopted them. After your example, how could I do less?”

  “The Master of Understatement,” Peter called from the bar. I ignored him.

  “Adopted? Then you hold a realm in Faery?” Trelaine asked, tensing.

  “A realm, yes, but not in Faery, thankfully,” I admitted. “I’d hate to have those two constantly watching over my shoulders. Dreadful pair, really.”

  “I… will have to take your word, sir,” Trelaine said weakly, nervous suddenly.

  “What’s wrong, Trelaine?” I asked, worried about his newfound fear.

  He hesitated, then said, “A second king of Faery and a human one… What does that portend for Faery?”

  “We don’t know, but there’s only one king,” I told him. “MacNamara tried to kill my brothers and me, so I killed him instead.”

  “The Race Traitor is dead?” he asked, shocked. I was more shocked that he pronounced the faery word and even knew that name.

  “Yes.”

  Trelaine was nearly ecstatic. Falling to his knees with tears beginning to form in his eyes, he cried out, “Thank you! Thank you, Lord McClure, I am forever in your debt!”

  I very nearly giggled at his reaction, barely remembering my own warning to the others and stopping myself in time. Trelaine deserved better treatment than to be laughed at. “You don’t owe me anything for that, Trelaine. Don’t be silly. Now, can you join us for dinner? I think I would enjoy your company and that way you can dazzle us when we’ve made a reservation and you’ve had time to prepare.”

  The invitation confused Trelaine. “I… I… Dine with you? Lord McClure?”

  “Daybreak,” Jimmy corrected him.

  “Lord Daybreak, I wouldn’t know how to act, what to say…” he mumbled nervously, shuffling in place. A mountain, shuffling in place like a lost schoolboy in a mall.

  “Look at the boy, Trelaine,” Dillon said from the bar. “He hides surprising little for such a powerful young man. He likes you and wants dinner and conversation, not the quivering talents of precious Rene. Unfortunately, he’s from the other side of the fence.”

  “Dillon!” Peter cried out, realizing just how crass Dillon had been. Peter took a light swing at his shoulder, but Dillon rolled across the bar out of the way.

  “Careful, I bruise,” he said, laughing.

  Trelaine began to rumble deep in his chest in what I suppose was a small laugh. “Mr. Borland, I believe I can find something to talk about.”

  His look turned a little cruel when he smiled at Dillon and said, “Please, call me Pete.”

  Chapter 47

  Dinner with Trelaine was a great deal of fun. He settled us into a reasonably elegant room and went to change. When he came back, he was dressed as casually as we and totally lacking in the biker’s leather accouterments of our first meeting. We talked about our pasts in general ways, though I had to recount the fight with the Rat Bastard in as much graphic detail as I was willing. He was quite enraptured by Peter’s and my rings, having great difficulty believing that a brownie had created both much less four others. And the food was quite good, steaks and potatoes with fresh bread. As I said, it was a great deal of fun.

  “Seth,” Trelaine said, stopping us just before the doors as we were leaving, nervous again. “May I ask a question of you, as Lord Daybreak?”

  “Certainly, Trelaine,” I answered, curious.

  “You did not take the Rat Bastard’s debts when you assumed your position, did you?”

  “No, not at all,” I said. “It was never my intent to steal anything from him, just to remove his blight from the universe. I feel absolutely no responsibility to incur his debts or accept payments from those indebted to him. Why? Please don’t tell me you had a bargain with him.”

  He hesitated, looking at me worriedly, and said, “Not a bargain, but an arrangement that came after I paid my family’s bargain off. They don’t like losing their toys.”

  I stared at him for a moment, desperately wanting to pry into that story. “I believe you can consider that arrangement nullified, regardless of whether you benefited from it or not. And I would strongly advise you to not enter into other arrangements with the Fae. However, if anyone decides to try and call you on that arrangement, feel free to call me to arbitrate the matter. I’m fairly certain whoever tries it with you will turn and run the moment you mention my name.”

  “It was not by choice, sir,” Trelaine said.

  “Ah, that I understand,” I said nodding, smiling bleakly. “I fell into one of those, too. It was extremely dangerous and I almost lost a dear friend. I was extremely lucky.”

  “Luck, hell!” Peter said loudly, wrapping his arm over my shoulder and squeezing hard. “That was skill, power, style, and sheer determination. He saved my life there, tossed both the First Princesses over the top of the Arena while full squads of their own guards stood behind them, and saved his mother from a madman all at the same time. You might not have heard the stories of MacNamara’s Last Fights yet, but we’d love to hear how they’ve warped from the truth. It’s gotten to be a game for Seth.”

  “I, I—he, he what?” Trelaine asked Peter, completely shocked.

  “Hey, I just needed them out of the way before they caused trouble,” I said, shrugging. “Kieran and Ethan could handle the guards and Peter needed me. We would have lost if we tried to fight them. And it wasn’t nearly as impressive as what Kieran did a few minutes later.”

  “And that was while MacNamara was still alive, mind you, and at the height of his power,” Peter said, grinning.

  “It’s going to be difficult, though, to find any of his agents anymore, I imagine,” I said, thinking about it. “If any elves still exist past his abomination, they’ve probably gone mad or been hunted down by the other Courts. Anything less strong probably slipped back into the Wyldes before the Queens destroyed his realm. Speaking of, I will have to go hunting soon. Would you like to accompany me? We may be able to find her, you know.”

  Trelaine inhaled sharply, holding it for a heartbeat before saying anything. “But that was over two hundred years ago…”

  “The Wylde is still strong in you, Trelaine,” I said, casually. He didn’t bring it up, so I assumed it wasn’t something he wanted to talk about. “And you’re, what, third generation? I think we’ll find her. I’ll let you know when I plan to go.”

  “Thank you, sir, that is most kind,” Trelaine answered, dazed and deep in thought.

  We said our good-byes and exited the building to an empty parking lot.

  “Dillon, where’s the car?” Peter asked cautiously, pointing to the spot we’d left it.

  “I asked one of Trelaine’s people to return it for us,” he answered, coiling onto Peter’s arm. “We didn’t need it anymore tonight.”

  “Except that our briefcases were in the back seat, Dillon,” Jimmy reminded him.

  I sought the diamonds I kept in my briefcase and found the car stopped between two buildings in an alley several miles from the car agency. “Quivering” Rene and a companion were busy doing something that caused quite a bit of quivering and other gerunds of an explicit nature.

  “Oh, crap, I forgot about that. I’m sorry. Uh, let me think,” Dillon said, pulling off of Peter’s arm.

  “Don’t worry about it, Dillon,” I said with a light chortle. “Jimmy and I can fetch them on our way to New York. I still have to visit the Grimes children before going home tonight.”

  Dillon sighed, disappointed. “I’m sorry, Seth, I was trying to help.”

  “Minor inconvenience, don’t worry,” I assured him. “Rene, on the other hand…”

  “Is he being naughty?” Peter asked, slowly and seductively, teasing Dillon by teasing a
t me. “Do you want me to go instead?”

  “That’s all right, Pete,” I said laughing. “I got worse images from the blueberry pancakes this morning than what’s actually happening in the car.”

  “Leaving now. Good-night, guys,” Peter said hurriedly as his face started flushing a deep red from embarrassment. He shifted over, pulling Dillon with him, just as Jimmy’s rumble of laughter started filling the private parking lot.

  Wrapping both of us in portals, I moved us a dozen yards behind the rental car and let Jimmy’s laugh fill the alley instead, adding a menacing touch to the atmosphere. Then I punched a tiny hole through to Gilán’s horizon over the oceans just wide enough to brightly spotlight the car in the dark alley. The reflected light revealed a second car further up the alley—the second man’s for the return trip, I supposed. Apparently they were too wrapped up in their… rigorous activity to notice even that.

  “I’ll handle this, Seth,” Jimmy said, still chortling a bit. “If you do it, it’ll be more embarrassing for Trelaine.”

  Staying out of the light as we approached the car, I let Jimmy handle it then. With a gentle push of will, he popped the locks on the doors and pulled the driver’s side rear door open quickly and reached for our cases, shouting at the same time, “Out of the car, you morons! Out! Now!”

  Jimmy sent his case to his office and tossed me mine, for which I promptly did the same. The front seat, however, was a hilariously spastic collection of naked arms, legs, and other body parts as the two men fought to gain leverage to follow their sudden directive. The door flew open and Rene fell partly out, nearly hitting his head on the pavement. Groans of effort and epithets filled the air as they both tried to push out the door together, a sweaty mass of flesh. It took them a moment, but they finally made it out with a few scraps and minor cuts.