by S E Holmes
The shout of his name brought Nic back to the present. He found himself alone, fist clenched on an object. Peeling fingers apart revealed Kafele’s amulet. The weight spoke of priceless gold and jewels, as pristine now as the day they were forged and polished. Shocked, Nic flung it as if a stinging scorpion.
“Nic! You betraying bastard! Where are you?” Nate yelled, getting closer.
Nic stared at the necklace, afraid to pick it up. So, the lovers escaped. Somehow, he knew that was not the end of their story. There was no happily ever after where they were headed. He quashed the realisation these Felid idiots believed him the reincarnation of Kafele. It was just too stupid. And he guessed Mira played Sanura.
“I’m going to murder you when I find you!”
He couldn’t leave the accursed thing here to be stolen. Nic collected the ankh and slid it over his head, planning on returning it at the nearest opportunity. There was no sudden arcane insight or surge of supernatural power. He was slightly regretful, thinking magic might come in handy to waylay Nate. Even Mira’s skill with sneaky hypnosis would suffice, for that’s definitely what had happened: another Arkady dupe.
A check of his watch showed four hours gone. It didn’t seem possible. He’d missed the meeting with Lily. Nate was not the forgiving type and whatever this latest catastrophe, Nic knew he’d probably earned the blame -- whether it was fair or not. And he’d not addressed the more pressing issue of monitoring his brother.
Pictures of Sam’s potential fate at the hands of Sasha brought Nic to his feet. He jogged out into the trees, flitting from one to the other to avoid Nate, who strode the grounds, his scowl obvious even at a distance. Whatever the problem, it could wait. He picked up the pace and dodged festivities to the front of the manor, running smack into a phalanx of ropable O’Connors. Lily slouched in their midst, drunk and bedraggled. Grass stained her dress in suggestive patches and a leaf stuck out from her mussed hair. Next to her stood a boy about the same age in a similar state, held aloft by the collar and a none-too-gentle Jed.
“If I’m not mistaken,” Mr O’Connor flicked accusingly in the miserable boy’s vicinity, “he’s not you, Nic.”
“Let him alone, dad. He’s my boyfriend!”
Nate arrived, shoving Nic on the way passed, then whirling to confront him. “What the hell! I ask you for one miniscule favour and this is the outcome. You can forget about that exam.”
“Oh, get stuffed, Nate. You self-righteous prick!” Lily slurred. “I don’t need a baby-sitter!”
“Clearly, you do, young lady. Preferably a reliable one.” Mrs O’Connor threw Nic a scathing look, before towing her disgruntled daughter towards a waiting limo. “And watch that mouth!”
“Sorry, Nic!” Lily said over her shoulder, wrenching free to walk unaided. “Mother,” she continued, “Nic is not to blame. The whole lot of you are being ridiculous. I’m a teenager, for Christ’s sake! And I’ll need a bucket for the ride home.”
While Nic admired her fortitude, it would have been much more convincing if Lily didn’t lisp on every ‘s’. Or receive a threat to have her mouth salted on each curse word. He sighed and prepared for the inevitable rant, feeling more than a tad disgruntled himself. He had his own brother to worry about. Who had designated Nic shining knight for all distressed damsels and assorted small mammals?
Speaking of which, he noticed Scar malingering in the background, scrutinising events with uncanny interest from the terrace balustrade. How the cat got so far from home added to the rest of this night’s infuriating mysteries. The idea he’d been drugged surfaced; that all this might be a dream or hallucination was oddly soothing.
Nate bunched Nic’s shirt. “I oughta’ beat you to a pulp.”
Riley barged into their midst, grabbing her latest one-nighter by the wrist. “What the hell’s wrong with you people? Is Lily really Nic’s responsibility? What were the rest of you doing? Enjoying yourselves and leaving someone else to sort your child. And aren’t you the world’s biggest hypocrite, Nate?”
Nic could have kissed her. Until she smiled coyly at him. Nate’s fist compressed his wind-pipe and starved lungs spoke of reality.
“Let go,” he rasped, taken aback by the quiet authority of his own voice. Nate complied immediately, stepping away with a nervous face. “Leave the kid alone, Jed.”
Jed’s defiance dissipated under Nic’s glare. He released the boy, who sidled away. The O’Connor men fidgeted awkwardly, but it was clear Riley’s infatuation had doubled. She all but swooned.
“I’ll sort my grades without you, Nate. I guess we’ve established what sort of friendship this is. I’m sorry I let you down, but it’s time to accept Lily’s her own person. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a brother to look after.” If anyone deserved his allegiance it was Sam and he cursed himself for doing such an abysmal job of it so far.
“Nic!” Riley called at his retreating back.
“Can’t. Busy!”
But after scouring the property twice, Nic failed to locate him and gave-up in exasperation. He trudged down the driveway, waving by vehicles that slowed to offer a lift. Thirty minutes later he crested the hill, the Lawson farm a panorama below. Instead of the expected two a.m. darkness, the property was lit by flashing Police lights in the turning circle, cars stretched haphazardly bumper-to-bumper in the lane. People swarmed the fields, torches panning in search. A helicopter swooped overhead adding its spotlight. Nic broke into a run.
He found Barney examining a district map spread on the bonnet of a cruiser, walkie-talkie to his mouth. Barney paused on spotting Nic. “Your father’s with Martha. In the kitchen.”
Nic swallowed fear and headed inside. Many of the women from town formed a supportive cordon about Martha, who gripped a coffee-cup at the dining table, face bleak and tears drying on her cheeks. Jonathon stood beside her with a fortifying hand on her back. Sequins and gaily hued taffeta clashed with sombre attitudes. Father glanced up and hurried over.
“Where’ve you been, Nic? I called about a thousand times.”
“I left my phone here. Pants are too tight. What’s going on?”
He moved his son to the breakfast bench out of Martha’s earshot, tux rumpled and bow-tie dangling. “Harry’s missing.”
“What?”
“His mother went to check on him around ten and found the room empty. Sam’s in with Henrietta. Go see if he needs a hand.”
“I’m joining the search.”
“See to Henri first. Then come and grab me. We’ll find him. He can’t have gone far.” Jonathon’s reassurance fell flat. They both knew whether Harry got far or not, there were infinite hazards between the bush and safety: aggressive brown snakes, Funnel Web spiders, precipitous gullies. Harry was off-kilter over perfectly level surfaces.
Nic headed for Sam’s bedroom, trying and failing not to dwell on the awful possibilities. He knocked softly and pushed the door open. Sam brought his finger to his lips and came to meet him at the door. Henrietta curled in ball beneath the covers.
“Took ages to get her to sleep. I didn’t think she’d ever stop crying. Poor kid.” Nic choked hysteria at Sam calling anyone a kid, his own nerves frayed to breaking. “There’s something you need to know.” Nic closed his eyes in a plea for strength. “Earlier on, just as we got the news and had to leave the party in a hurry, I took the guys to see the cats. The thing is...” Sam’s brow creased. “I’m pretty sure Katya wasn’t in her pen.”
***
Chapter Thirty