by Scott Duff
Ethan finished his cheer-up speech with, “And he is inarguably the most knowledgeable and powerful here.”
Kieran barked out a laugh and stood up. “Shrank, is there some paper and a pen in here?”
“Yes, lord,” Shrank sang out as he jumped off the couch into the air. “I believe it’s over here,” he said, flying over to a small table against the wall underneath a tall, narrow mirror. Kieran opened the drawer and removed a leather portfolio and silver case. He paused for a moment, then placed both back in the drawer, closing it firmly. Shrank looked up confused.
“Thank you, Shrank,” he said, “but I think a more active and personal touch will be more interesting right now.” He turned back to us and asked, “What do you three say? Interested in going to a party? Stretching our legs a bit?”
“We’re here to talk to people,” I said, standing. “Might as well be now.”
“Let’s go, then,” he said, smiling. “Just stay close to me. You are supposed to be apprentices, after all. Seth, bring the Challenges with you, please. We’ll take care of those first.”
We left the apartment with Kieran leading. He turned left down the hall from the front door, the direction we hadn’t been yet. I still hadn’t figured out the lighting completely. Some places had definite fixtures while others, like this hallway, just appeared to be lit as if the ceiling glowed with its own internal source. I supposed that could be it, looking at it. Realizing I was trying to distract myself, I forced myself back into the issues at hand and started reading the Challenges I held, again.
Harris’ was a piece of work. He’d worded it so that it almost looked like an arrest warrant. He stated that I was wanted by the United States Government for the same crap he spewed at me the last time I faced him. As if I didn’t take him down a few pegs before, now he’s seriously pissing me off. The other four were pretty much the same text, almost boilerplated even.
“Can you believe this guy?” I said shaking my head in disbelief, passing Harris’ Challenge to Peter to read.
“Actually, yes,” Peter said, passing it to Ethan when he held his hand out for it. “That’s him all over. No accounting for stupid.”
“Do you think he actually thinks this way?” asked Ethan, as he read. “I mean, really, this is so wrong.” He handed it back to me as we slowed at the end of the hallway. The right side opened up into a lavish and huge room. The left led to a vestibule with a small contingent of elves that appeared to be controlling the entrance to guests. Kieran was unsure as to how to proceed but decided quickly, turning right into the larger room and ignoring the vestibule.
Kieran strode calmly into the center of the room, his green eyes bright as he surveyed the established groups of people. The room was curiously empty of any Fae at this point, at least curious to me. Everyone was dressed in what my mom called “black tie” attire and my dad called “stuffed shirt.” I’d only seen it from a distance a few times, when I’d traveled with them on business, and they had to attend dinner parties. I’d hide on a balcony and watch people go in and out in, men in their shiny black suits and the women in different dresses, few of them were as pretty as my mom was in hers. I’d whine about not getting to go and Dad would whine about having to. Now here I was, at one and I didn’t want to be here.
But that reminder steeled me. I already knew how to deal with the first Challenge. That one was simple. And he was right... Over… There.
“Hold these,” I said to Kieran, shoving the other four Challenges into his chest and started across the room, not taking my eyes off my stumpy target on the far side of the room. I could feel Kieran and the rest less than three steps behind me, which was fine. I expected no less. But they didn’t interfere, knowing I wouldn’t lose control of myself, especially here. We cut a noticeable green swath across the room as I straight-lined to my target: Harris.
His back was to me and he was telling some no doubt pretentious story to a tall, bored looking man sipping champagne. There were about fifteen people in the group around him, all of whom started backing away subtly when they saw me coming. The bored man definitely saw me, too, but stayed where he was. He wanted the ringside seat he’d been paying for, obviously.
With my left hand, I grabbed Harris’ right shoulder, swung him around, and punched him with my right, hard, in the face. I might have even added a little kinetic power into it, I’m not sure. He flew back a few feet, hitting the exquisite parquet floor hard, sending his wire framed glasses flying in opposite directions to his champagne flute, both breaking. I’m pretty sure it dented the floor, too, but I was too pissed to care at that moment.
“The only reason you are not dead is out of respect to MacNamara,” I said loudly, as he rose up onto his elbows, confused and bleeding from his nose and upper lip. “Be glad my brother said no or I’d be taking up your Challenge rather than taking it to my attorney. Since you seem to think I’m still guilty of something then let’s fight this out in the court, nice and public like. Won’t that look interestin’ on the cover of the Washington Post, Mr. Harris?” I paused a moment to let my anger seep out some. I continued more softly, but my face was still hard. “My brother survived, no thanks to you. You will not continue with your persecution of my family. Come to terms with that. Do it fast.”
I turned around to find my guys spread out in a triangle around me with their backs to me. Their arms were crossed protectively, but not threateningly. From the looks of the people I saw, it wasn’t necessary. They looked pretty amused to me.
“Who’s next, Ehran?” I asked calmly. Harris was still struggling to get to his feet. Kieran made a show of consulting the papers while Ethan and Peter relaxed their stances. Harris made it to his feet with some help, wiping the blood from his face with a handkerchief, his face red from embarrassment.
“McClure!” Harris shouted, lurching one step forward. Then he froze in place like a statue. His momentum teetered him on his leading foot and finally carried him face first into the floor again. He had two shiny silver darts with bright yellow and orange feathery plumes sticking out of his pants where his butt should be.
“Didn’t you tell him that wouldn’t work anymore?” Kieran asked somewhat loudly and with a big innocent look on his face.
“Yes, sir,” I said, calmly, nodding and playing into his act. “But as Peter said, ‘There’s no accounting for stupid.’”
A roar of laughter went up around us, even from the two that had rolled Harris over to check on him. I felt the pull of magic as Kieran led us away and knew that Harris’ injuries were getting attention. I briefly considered staying long enough to watch how the drugs were dealt with as compared to how I had to handle Kieran’s but decided against it. Might look suspiciously threatening.
If we weren’t the center of attention before, we certainly were now. It was palpable and we were easy to spot since most men were in black. But punching somebody out in the first two minutes of being at the party makes being underdressed surprisingly freeing. The constant attention was annoying but I was beginning to get used to it, some.
Kieran handed me the next Challenge so I read the name the first line: I, Felix Cahill… Looking up, I saw we’re walking up to Felix Cahill, who was stiffening into a boxer’s stance, making me smile and shake my head at him.
“No, Mister Cahill, there’s no need for histrionics,” I said to him. “But I must decline the Challenge. I have only been apprenticed for a week and my Master says I am not ready for this level of competition.” I turned the written Challenge to him and extended my arm to him, returning it. “If it is convenient for you, though, my brother and I would welcome the opportunity to speak to you privately. Would that be possible at some point this evening?”
“I’m sure I can manage that,” said Cahill, gruffly, relaxing enough to take the paper from my hand. “MacNamara already holds a letter of decline of Challenge from me. To talk is all we wanted anyway. Never wanted to face the son of Robert. I’ve known him too long to believe too much of any rumors. Sc
ary bastard, he is.”
“I wouldn’t know,” I said lightly, chuckling. “I never argued with him, but Ehran agrees with you. At your discretion then, sir.” I bowed my head politely, not taking my eyes from his, then turned to Kieran. He nodded politely at Cahill and we turned and walked away from the European Council delegation. Kieran led us to a banquet table against a wall, currently empty of people.
“The other human Challenger isn’t here yet,” he told us while picking up a small plate and helping himself to canopies of some kind. “The other two are Fae and will no doubt wait till closer to midnight to show up.”
I looked around the room casually. The last Challenge came from the North American Council, the one my grandfather belonged to, and they weren’t here yet. I wondered if we were going to have to go seeking him. They knew his name and what Kieran and Peter had done earlier wasn’t anything like the Queens did. It could be done.
“What do we do until then?” I asked. “I don’t know any of these people. You?” I asked Peter the last one.
“Actually, yes,” he said nodding, “One or two, personally. Two or three more by reputation. Mind if I go say hello?”
“Take Ethan with you,” interjected Kieran. “I don’t want any of us alone for a while.”
“Oh yeah, this’ll be fun,” said Peter. The idea amused him greatly. His aura spiked sharply at the thought. “Come on, Ethan, let’s go beard the lion and put on a gun show.” There were double entendres in there, but Peter was the only one who knew it. Kieran and I watched them walk toward the US contingent in a slow arc. Peter took a polite pace through the crowd with Ethan beside him. Kieran and I split our attention between the room and Peter.
They approached a couple, a man and a woman, who looked in their mid-thirties, who Peter suddenly seemed to notice. The first fact I noticed about the couple as Peter and Ethan approached them, hand extended to shake with the man, was that both of them were sharply sexually aroused and hiding it poorly. The second fact was that it was aimed at Ethan, not Peter. It spiked again when Peter introduced him, much more blatantly in the man than the woman. She slipped her arm through his in a practiced move. The man sputtered but seemed to collect himself, artificially calming his aura and hers. Ethan shifted in place, crossing his arms and making his biceps bulge in the short-sleeved green silk tunic. The man’s eyes bugged out some, his aura manipulations wavering, but he settled as Peter chatted amicably with them. Ethan caught on early, but I couldn’t tell if he was actually uncomfortable and trying to wriggle out from the situation or his was playing with them, like Peter was. And Peter was definitely playing with the pair.
Kieran and I snickered for a few minutes, watching them. Really didn’t have much to do until Cahill was ready or the rest showed up. I looked around in the US group to see who had left. Maybe there was someone there we could talk to, but everyone was studiously avoiding us. The European group had splintered off into smaller groups of two or three and were moving about, like an actual cocktail party. Kieran staked out a claim on two small couches near the center of the room and sat. The room was still fairly empty and we were alone in the immediate area. I took one final sweep around the room, intending to sit for a few minutes when a fresh group came in the door, catching my attention.
The North American contingent had arrived, about ten of them walked in, four women and six men. Two men walked in the middle of the pack, unescorted. One was my grandfather.
Uriah St. Croix had made it to the party at last.
Chapter 17
The other single man with the North American Council was named Feinstein. Colbert’s files mentioned him briefly. Feinstein wore a tuxedo with a Canadian flag in the lapel, but his shirt and cummerbund had a wild floral pattern. The other four men were similarly adorned with lapel pins of their countries of loyalty. My grandfather was wearing a simple tuxedo, unadorned. Three of the four women dressed conservatively enough in their finery that their dresses were complimentary to them, fitting their figures nicely and hiding flaws, as they should. They weren’t exactly beautiful, but they were very nice looking. The fourth one, though. I really think she was color-blind. And a null. Had to be a null. She couldn’t be seeing the instant thread of laughter through all the auras in the room and have stayed. The whole group shifted toward the far corner of the room, away from us and away from most everybody.
I sat down slowly. They would both know where we were soon enough and I discovered the chill over my heart needed some time to warm up before I faced my grandfather. But most of my attention stayed on them. They settled onto settees in an empty area of the room, farthest away from the remains of the US contingent. Slowly the Hispanic couples ventured out, two at a time to mingle. I saw Peter and Ethan swinging their way through the room talking politely to several different people.
I glanced over at Kieran. He was kicked back on the couch, sipping champagne, and watching the first couple to depart talk to a black man telling an animated story involving much punching and kicking. I didn’t think he was talking about me, though. That was far too involved to have been Harris and me. The second couple to leave was bee-lining back to their group, with the woman unabashedly staring at us. I scanned ahead to their target and was surprised to see Peter and Ethan already there, talking politely with the couple boasting a Canadian flag. I turned back to the woman, waved to her, and smiled, pointing back to Peter. She stopped, with her man tugging at her arm sharply before she said something angrily, then began walking again more sedately to their franchised territory.
Peter and Ethan pulled away before the couple reached them. They chose a different path back to us, I suspect intentionally. Peter showed an amazing diplomatic ability tonight and I didn’t think this was out of character for him. They swung by a table of drinks and snagged four glasses of champagne and headed out way.
“I think we’ll have company soon,” said Kieran, amused by the interplay. Somehow, my grandfather had managed to miss all of this happening so close to him. He was watching the door closely, looking for someone. Feinstein sat close, ignoring everybody. Peter and Ethan met with us at precisely the same time the three couples came together in a circle, blocking our line of sight.
“Peter is quite the social butterfly,” said Ethan, grinning and handing me a fluted glass of champagne. “He was quite popular with everyone.” He sank down onto the couch opposite us and sipped his champagne.
“Nah,” Peter scoffed, handing Kieran a new glass and sitting in the chair close to Kieran. “I’m the only one anybody knows anything about. These people at least know Dad and since they can’t see you three, you scare the crap out of them. Besides, most of them were jockeying for introductions anyway. We could have sent a goat out in green silks and they would have glommed onto it.”
“He did what?” we heard faintly from the far corner of the room. To carry that far in this room, it had to be a shout. Ethan glanced casually to his right and grinned.
“I believe your grandfather just learned we’re here,” he said, setting the flute on the table. “I’d prefer water, myself.”
“I believe my presence will slow his arrival here some,” said a voice behind Peter. We all turned see Felix Cahill standing a step behind Peter. A second man stood behind him watching us calmly. There was a family resemblance that went deeper than their features, but I don’t think he was Cahill’s son. “May I join you?” he asked casually.
“Certainly, Mr. Cahill,” said Kieran, standing to greet them. We rose with him. “Thank you for joining us. I am Ehran McClure. I believe you know my brothers, Seth, Peter Borland, and Ethan.” Peter smoothly abandoned his chair and took position standing behind Kieran.
“Please, call me Felix,” Cahill said. “May I present my nephew, Marcus, my sister’s boy. He’s never been to such an event. I must say his first is becoming quite unusual.” He sidled into Peter’s chair and we all sat down. Ethan shifted down the couch to make room for Marcus, but Peter stayed standing, a green silk beacon marking
our position in the room. He had a clear line of sight to the US contingent. Glancing at Ethan, I noticed he kept a constant eye on the North American Contingent and my grandfather.
“I wouldn’t know,” said Kieran, brightly, “This is our first time here as well.”
“Really?” Cahill asked, surprised. “I asked MacNamara’s wardens when we arrived about your father, Robert, and was shocked to learn that he had won the contest not once, which I knew about, but three times. I had not realized that Robert was quite that old.”
“Three?” asked Kieran. “Does that include his team championships?”
Cahill blanched, but recovered quickly, saying, “No, I believe my questions glossed over teams. I will inquire again.”
“Father only told me about two team wins,” Kieran said, kindly. “Those were in the last two hundred years. He’d given up competing well before I was born, though.” Oh, I understood then. Kieran was establishing his provenance and not so subtly letting Cahill know that Dad wasn’t a pushover. And if Dad wasn’t a pushover, there was a pretty good chance that he wasn’t either.
“Yes, I wasn’t even aware that Seth had a brother,” said Cahill, turning his attention to me.
“I wasn’t aware of it either,” I said to him. “Until recently. A minor emergency pulled him to my rescue and we’ve been inseparable since.”
“We’re on a quest to find our father and his mother,” said Kieran. “And we’ve found ourselves in quite a bind in that regard, Felix. A number of people, yourself included, seem to be issuing considerable effort to confine my little brother for purposes they won’t specify. Needless to say, I will not allow this and will commit to whatever actions are necessary to maintain my family and friends’ safety and well being. This would be simpler if I knew why. What’s going on here, Felix?”