by Jayne Castle
Barclay’s eyes widened. “This isn’t the real Mrs. London.” But he was no longer sure of himself. “It can’t be.”
“Of course this is the real Mrs. London, Barclay,” the woman snapped. She gave Lydia an apologetic smile. “I recognize her. She was on the front cover of theTattler yesterday.”
“I’m glad somebody around here has the sense to read the tabloids.” Lydia released Barclay’s tie. “Who are you?” she said to the woman in the blue suit.
“I’m the assistant manager, Julia Sanders. I’m so sorry if there’s been a misunderstanding.”
“Barclay, here, is the only one who doesn’t seem to understand the situation,” Lydia said. “My friends and I have a reservation for lunch. We’d like a table for three, please.”
“Certainly.” Julia shot a quelling glance at Barclay. “I’ll handle this.”
“Yes, Miss Sanders,” Barclay said weakly. He readjusted his tie with trembling fingers.
“With a view of the river,” Lydia added.
“Naturally.”
“And I also want an apology from Barclay.”
“Of course.”
“The steak’s not bad,” Jack announced midway through lunch. “Not much to it, though. My mom usually cooks up about three times as much when I go home for dinner. And look at these itty-bitty veggies. Never seen anything like ’em. Wonder how they get them to grow that small?”
“The more expensive the restaurant, the smaller the portions,” Melanie said with a wise air. “How do you think all these rich folks stay so slim? It’s not like any of them actually work for a living.”
“Huh.” Jack put the last of the steak into his mouth and chewed reflectively. “Hadn’t thought about that.”
“I can’t wait to see the dessert tray,” Melanie confided. She looked at Lydia. “Hey, you’re not eating your fish. What’s the matter? Is it bad? If it is, you’re supposed to send it back in a fancy place like this.”
“No, it’s fine.” Lydia jerked herself out of her reverie and forced a smile. “I’m just not very hungry today, that’s all.”
Melanie chuckled. “Too much excitement lately, what with getting married yesterday and the big Restoration Ball coming up tonight.”
“Speaking of excitement,” Jack said around a mouthful of miniature vegetables, “Word down at the Guild Hall is that there might be a little at headquarters this afternoon.”
“Excitement?” Lydia stopped pushing her expensive entrée around her plate and frowned at him. “What are you talking about?”
“You must have heard about that big ghost that someone sent after Mr. London last night?”
“I was there. I’m married to Mr. London, remember?”
“Oh, yeah, right. Well, some of the guys down at the hall say that was probably someone testing the boss in order to get a feel for just how good he is, y’know?”
Lydia got a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach and knew she couldn’t blame it on the fish. “What do you mean?”
“Remember I told you that there was talk about a formal challenge? Well, word is that Foster Dorning may be planning to issue one this afternoon.”
“A Council challenge?” Aware that her voice was rising, Lydia glanced hurriedly around and then leaned across the table. “You told me that no one could challenge a married Guild chief. Something about Guild wife rights.”
Jack looked perplexed by her reaction. “Yeah, well, the way it works, see, is that the boss’s wife has to demand her rights in front of the full Council. Didn’t I explain that part?”
“No, you did not.” Lydia tossed her napkin aside and leaped to her feet. “I think that meeting is scheduled for two o’clock. I’ve got to hurry.”
“Hey, what’s the rush?” Jack asked. “Melanie wants to see the dessert tray.”
But startled comprehension had appeared in Melanie’s face. She, too, was on her feet. “I’m going to skip dessert. Come on, Lydia, I’ll drive you in my car. It’s raining, you’ll never get a cab.”
Jack looked completely bewildered now. “Where are you two going?”
“To demand my Guild wife rights,” Lydia snapped, struggling to keep her voice to a whisper.
“I get it, you’re worried about Mr. London.” Jack gave her a reassuring grin. “Don’t sweat it, ma’am. Got a feeling he can take care of himself.”
Lydia did not stop to argue. “Let’s go, Mel.”
Heads turned when they dashed across the restaurant toward the front door. Lydia ignored the attention. When she passed Barclay’s station she paused briefly. Barclay cringed back.
“Be sure my other guest gets dessert,” she snapped. “Send the bill to Guild Headquarters. Twenty percent for the waiters. Don’t bother adding anything extra for yourself, Barclay. I’ll check.”
Outside she jumped into the passenger seat of Melanie’s small Float. Melanie scrambled behind the wheel, rezzed the engine, and shot out of the restaurant parking lot.
She glanced in the rearview mirror. “I think it’s probably safe to say that the management of the Riverside Grill will definitely recognize you the next time.”
“I can’t believe it,” Lydia stated.
“The impression we made back there?”
“No, the way I screwed up with this Guild wife rights thing. Why didn’t Jacktell me that just getting married wasn’t enough? If only he’d explained sooner how it works.”
Melanie whipped the little vehicle around a corner and then shot Lydia a strange glance. “That’s why you told the media that you and Emmett were going to get married, isn’t it? You did it to protect him from a Council challenge.”
“He’s got enough problems. He only took the job because Wyatt asked him to do it. It’s supposed to be a temporary arrangement.”
“Calm down. Emmett’s one heck of a para-rez. You’ve seen him work. Jack’s right, he can probably handle anything anyone on the Council can throw at him.”
“After my Lost Weekend experience, I don’t trust hunters. Two of them once set me up and then lied through their teeth about it.”
“Admittedly you had a very negative experience with some members of the local Guild. I can understand why it left you with a poor impression. But we’re talking about the Guild Council, here, not just a couple of low-ranking hunters. These guys are at the very top of the organization.”
“The thing is, Mel, what if there’s something big going on at the top of the Guild? What if a couple of the Council members are working together to stage a takeover? Maybe they’re trying to destabilize the power structure. That would explain the attempt on Wyatt and the ghost attack last night.”
“You’re talking about some sort of conspiracy here?”
“It wouldn’t surprise me. Emmett won’t listen to me, but I can’t get past the idea that this is old-fashioned Guild politics in action and that means there’s a very good chance that someone on the Council is involved.”
“You don’t think maybe you’re getting downright paranoid?”
“When it comes to the Cadence Guild, a little paranoia is a healthy thing.”
Melanie whipped the Float around another corner and came to a sliding halt at the sight of the barricades that blocked the street. A marching band filled the intersection. Flags waved and music blared. People clogged the sidewalks, cheering.
“Damn,” Lydia said. “I forgot that the Restoration Day parade always takes a route that goes straight past the Guild headquarters. I’ll get out here. I can make better time on foot.”
She opened the passenger side door of the Float and extricated herself from it. “Thanks, Mel. See you back at Shrimp’s.”
“Be careful,” Melanie yelled after her. “And don’t forget you’ve got an appointment at the salon later this afternoon.”
Lydia waved reassuringly, gripped the strap of her shoulder bag, and plunged into the crowd. When she reached the entrance of the high-rise office tower that housed the offices of the Guild she had to wriggle throu
gh a knot of office workers who had come outside to watch the parade. No one tried to stop her from entering the building.
She raced into the lobby only to find her path blocked by a guard dressed in khaki and leather.
She assumed what she hoped was an air of authority and prepared to use Emmett’s name once again as a talisman. “I’m Mrs. London. I’m here to see my husband.”
The guard grinned. “Yes, ma’am. I recognize you from the pictures in the papers. Private elevator on the left, ma’am. I’ll rez the key code for you.”
“Thank you.”
She stepped into the hushed confines of the paneled elevator and was whisked to the top of the tower so quickly her ears popped.
When she stepped out a moment later she found herself in a plush, carpeted lobby.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. London.” A small, tidy little man rose from behind a vast desk. “The guard informed me that you were on the way up here.”
“Hello,” she said. “Who are you?”
“I’m Perkins.” He bobbed his head. “How may I assist you?”
“I’m here to see my husband.”
“I’m so sorry.” Perkins appeared genuinely distraught. “Mr. London is in a very important meeting of the entire Council at the moment. I couldn’t possibly interrupt.”
Oh, damn. She might already be too late. “When did it start?”
“Just a few minutes ago. It won’t last long. There’s only one item on the agenda.”
“Where is this meeting held?”
“In the Council chambers, of course.” Perkins angled his head in the direction of a closed door. “If you don’t mind waiting—”
“No problem.”
“If you’ll follow me, there’s a nice sitting area in here.” Perkins turned to lead the way. “You’ll have a wonderful view of the parade. Can I get you some rez-tea?”
“That would be great, Perkins. Thanks.”
When he turned his back to her, she spun around and sprinted in the opposite direction, intent on reaching the closed door of the Council chambers before Perkins realized he’d been duped.
She actually had her hand on the gleaming doorknob before he comprehended that she had not followed him.
“Mrs. London,”he squawked, appalled. “Wait. You can’t go in there. You mustn’t—”
She turned the knob, yanked open the door, and walked smartly into the chamber.
18
EMMETT AND TENother men, most of them much older than him, were seated at a great semicircular table. They were all dressed in modern business suits that looked oddly out of place. She realized that the popular images of the ghost-hunters’ Council came from the historical films and photos that dated from the Era of Discord. In the old movies and pictures the members of the Council were always shown wearing the traditional robes of office that dated from that time.
But aside from the modern attire, she had a hunch that very little had changed. You could feel the power in the room, she thought. Not just the low-level buzz of psi power that was palpable when so many strong para-rezes were gathered together in a small space, but another kind, the sort that clung to a group that had operated under its own secret rules and codes for decades.
The Guild had functioned outside the mainstream legal system from inception. It accorded superficial deference and polite respect to the civil authorities and the courts but everyone knew in reality it was immune to them. The old-fashioned hierarchical system had worked reasonably well down through the years because there was a fair amount of truth in the old sayingthe Guild polices its own.
You had to hand it to the ghost-hunters, she thought. They had been able to maintain their traditional ways and clean up financially at the same time because they’d always had a knack for selecting strong, savvy leadership.
For the first time it struck her quite forcibly just how strong and savvy Emmett had to be if he had, in fact, managed to mainstream the Resonance Guild, as the media claimed. It meant that he had had to control and steer a bunch of tough, powerful men like these into a future that none of them would have welcomed.
She recognized the ten members of the Cadence Guild Council from photos that she had seen in the news over the years. All but one, Foster Dorning, were longtime members. In front of each man sat a chunk of solid amber carved in an octagonal design.
Tamara Wyatt was also present, looking elegant and very tense. She was not seated at the great council table but rather in a chair that Lydia suspected was designed for an honored guest.
Everyone turned to look at Lydia when she moved into the room. A shocked silence fell. With the exception of Emmett, everyone wore expressions of blank-faced astonishment. Clearly the members of the Cadence Guild Council were not accustomed to having their meetings interrupted.
Emmett’s hard face and eyes gave no indication of his reaction to her presence but she did not need to be a mind reader to figure out that he was not thrilled.
“Gentlemen,” he said, rising deliberately from his position of authority at the head of the table, “allow me to introduce my wife, Lydia.”
The men all stood politely, nodded brusquely, and murmured an acknowledgment of the introduction.
“Mrs. Wyatt, you’ve already met my wife,” Emmett added, still speaking in that cold, formal tone.
“Yes, of course. A pleasure to see you again, Lydia.”
Yeah, right, Lydia thought. She and Tamara had met on only one previous occasion, a small dinner party at Mercer Wyatt’s mansion. She was pretty sure that both of them had known from the get-go that they were not fated to be great buddies.
She was a little taken aback by the signs of strain that marked Tamara’s patrician profile. But the woman had been under a lot of stress lately, she reminded herself.
She inclined her head, once. “Mrs. Wyatt.”
Perkins hovered anxiously in the doorway. “Mr. London?”
“It’s all right, Perkins,” Emmett said. “I’ll handle this.”
“Yes, sir.” Clearly relieved, Perkins backed out of the room and closed the heavy door.
Emmett fixed Lydia with a look that would have frozen a ghost. “I’m a little busy at the moment, my dear. Perhaps you would be more comfortable waiting in my office.”
She swallowed heavily and collected her nerve. “I’ll be quite comfortable right here, thank you.” She walked quickly across the chamber and sat down next to Tamara. “Mrs. Wyatt and I have so much in common.” She gave all of the men at the table a cool smile. “What with both of us beingGuild wives and all.”
To Lydia’s amazement it was Tamara who backed her up.
“As the wife of the acting head of the Cadence Guild, Mrs. London has as much right to be here at this meeting as I do,” Tamara said with icy authority.
Lydia was not sure why Tamara was leaping to her defense but she decided she had better not waste the opportunity.
“Just another Guild wife right,” Lydia said, crossing her legs very deliberately. She gave the Council members a blazingly bright smile. “You know what they say about rights, use ’em or lose ’em. I’m here to make sure mine get used. All of them.”
At the table, ten jaws dropped. Emmett’s went rigid. Veiled respect and something that might have been gratitude lit Tamara’s eyes.
Understanding had dawned in the Council chamber. Lydia saw relief on the faces of most of the men. Only one of the council members looked angry.
“I’m delighted to see that, as a new Guild wife, you are aware of our traditions,” Tamara said smoothly.
“You bet.” Lydia regarded the table full of men. “Don’t mind me, gentlemen. I’ll just sit here very quietly and not bother anyone. Unless, of course, I feel I need to speak up in order to defend my Guild wife rights.”
Emmett’s eyes were ice cold but he turned his attention back to the meeting.
“We will return to the business at hand, gentlemen.” He nodded at an older man at the far end of the table. “Mr. Chao, please call f
or a vote.”
Chao rose quickly. “All those in favor of accepting the appointment of Emmett London as acting Guild Chief until Mercer Wyatt is able to resume his duties, please so signify with amber.”
One by one each of the ten Council members moved his chunk of amber out toward the center of the table. The last to vote was the youngest member of the council. Lydia estimated that he was in his mid-thirties.
Foster Dorning, she thought.
Dorning hesitated before casting his vote. He stared straight at Lydia. She was shaken by the rage that flashed across his face. But he recovered quickly and pushed his amber octagon toward the center of the table.
She could have sworn that, with the notable exceptions of Dorning and Emmett, everyone else breathed a collective sigh of relief.
“There being no objections to the appointment, it is hereby confirmed,” Chao announced. He sat down, pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, and mopped his brow. “This Council looks forward to advising you, Mr. London.”
“Thank you, gentlemen.” Emmett got to his feet. “The confirmation vote being the only item on the agenda today, this meeting is hereby adjourned.”
One by one the members of the Council filed out of the chamber.
When the last of the men had departed Lydia took one look at Emmett and sucked in a deep breath.
She had never seen him look so angry.
She glanced at the door and considered a run for the elevator. That would be the coward’s way out, she chided herself. She wasn’t afraid of Emmett’s wrath. Then again there was that Old Earth saying about discretion being the better part of valor.
“Thank you, Lydia.” Tamara rose from her chair. “I must say, your timing was excellent. I warned Emmett that Dorning was planning to issue a formal challenge. That was the very last thing we needed right now.” She frowned curiously. “How did you find out about it?”
“I heard a rumor,” Lydia said. “At lunch.”
“If you don’t mind, Tamara.” Emmett’s voice was much too soft. “I’d like to talk to my wife in private.”
Annoyance glittered in Tamara’s eyes but she nodded calmly. “If you’ll excuse me, Lydia, I’ll be on my way back to the hospital.”