by T K Eldridge
“I see Joel did train you, even if he didn’t explain what he was training you for,” the Cardinal replied.
“Actually, our parents taught us the rules of hospitality,” Connor spoke up. “Joel just taught us the strategic benefits of those rules.” He took a swallow of his coffee and leaned back, eyes glittering in the dim light through the bushes as he watched the man across from him.
“Well, I’m no Sidhe, but I give you my word and my bond that I will honor those rules,” the Cardinal said, a faint smile playing around his lips.
Cullen leaned in, elbows on the arms of the chair, cup cradled in his hands, his gaze locked on the man’s eyes as he spoke. “So, Liam, why are you here and what is it with calling Emlen ‘the Descendant’?”
“Right to the point, I see. Well, I need to give you a little background. What do you know of Charlemagne?”
Cullen answered, “Charles the Great, king of the Franks in the late seven hundreds to early eight hundreds and emperor of the west. He founded the Holy Roman Empire and brought about a cultural revival. The Carolingian Renaissance, I believe it was called.”
“Yes, exactly. And while he did found the Holy Roman Empire, he was not wholly against other religions. He was a particular patron of the Cathedral of Chartres in France and there is a massive stained-glass window that is called the Charlemagne window.” He took a sip of his coffee, then continued. “The cathedral is lovely and a historical treasure, but that’s not why it is important. It was built on a leyline that links Glastonbury, Stonehenge and the Pyramids of Egypt. Before Christianity, it was a sacred site for a sect of druids known as the Carnutes. Legend has it that the druids believed it to be a place where spiritual energy emanated from beneath the earth in a spring or well that increased fertility and blessings on those who would partake of the waters.
“Charlemagne made a pact with the druids and they blessed him with power, success, and glory. More specifically, they later blessed his son Charles the Younger. History says that Charles never married but had been betrothed to Aelfflaed and that he never had children. That is not the truth. Charles and Aelfflaed wed at Chartres when she was carrying their child. The druids gave the child the gift of magic.”
“Wait…what?” Connor made a derisive noise and shook his head. “Come on, seriously? You’re going to tell us a story about magic?”
Cullen held up a hand to his brother. “Wait, Connor. There are things we’ve both experienced that defied explanation. I mean, even Emlen’s had some weird ghost-type experiences. We’re Celts, we understand that some stuff just can’t be explained.” He looked at Liam. “However, just because we can’t explain it, doesn’t mean it’s magic.”
“Emlen’s had experiences with ghosts?” Liam asked, voice rising in excitement as he leaned forward. “Then she’s Awakening. This is great news.”
Connor thudded back into his seat with a sigh of frustration. “I give up. The crazy train has left the station…”
Cullen let out a slow breath. “So, Emlen is a descendant of Charlemagne’s grandchild. That’s why you call her Descendant, right?”
“Precisely,” Liam replied.
“But there must be tens of thousands of descendants by now. What makes Emlen so important?” Cullen continued. “If magic, or whatever, is in all of the descendants, why her?”
“It wasn’t all of the descendants, just those who descended from Charles the Younger’s child. They only had one, a daughter, and Edyth had four children, two sons and two daughters. One daughter had two children and died in childbirth, the other three children died before they had offspring. For some reason, it is rare for more than one child of a Descendant to actually have viable offspring.” Liam spoke, his voice calm. “In Emlen’s case, she is the only child born to the last living Descendant.”
“So, someone might have ten kids but only one will have magical living offspring?” Connor asked, a tinge of horror in his words.
“Exactly. Either their children die young, they are unable to have children at all, or they die before reaching adulthood. Emlen is the only child of John Frederick Jackson, he himself the only surviving child of Simone Jackson, nee Valencia.”
“If she’s the last one, is that why someone is trying to kill her?” Cullen asked.
Liam hesitated and then replied, “I don’t know. We don’t know of any person or organization that currently wants the Descendants dead. Our job, as Garda, is to protect them from any type of attacks or risks. There have been organizations, usually tied to the church, that wanted to eradicate magic, but there isn’t anything on our radar at this point in time.”
“It’s her father then, right?” Connor spoke for the first time in a few minutes.
“Not that we can tell,” Liam said. “None of his communications or actions have led us to believe he is behind it.”
“Then who?” Cullen asked. “We know Frankie was working for someone and he’s dead after the last attempt. Do you have any way of figuring out who was pulling his strings?”
“We’re working on it,” Liam replied. “There were calls on his phone records that trace to Boston, Massachusetts, but it went to a burner phone and we haven’t figured out who has it yet.”
“Yet. Not even the NSA can figure out who is holding a burner phone unless they triangulate a call and get a CCTV to spot the person talking on it.” Connor leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
“We have a few suspects and there are people watching them. If we can narrow it down—” Liam started but Connor interrupted. “You have the kinds of resources for that level of surveillance?”
Liam gave him a faint half-smile and folded his hands across his stomach. “Yes.”
Cullen leaned towards his brother and grinned. “Vatican, remember?”
Rolling his eyes at Cullen, Connor looked back at the Cardinal. “Emlen able to know about all of this? Some of this? None of this? How does this all…” a hand waved in the air “…work?”
“Often, the Descendants don’t know details. For example, Joel guarded Camille, Emlen’s mom, because she was pregnant and then raising Emlen. It was imperative that Camille be protected in order for Emlen to thrive. When Camille was murdered, the focus, of course, shifted to the child. That’s where, for a time, your father stepped in. That was terminated when Camille’s family re-claimed the child and sent her to boarding school. For a few years, one of her teachers was her Garda, then we slipped two into her security detail when that was implemented.” Liam chuckled a little. “She didn’t make it easy, that’s for sure. At least, now, she’s back where the two of you can step up and take over.” His smile faded and he let out a breath, looking around the porch before back to the brothers. “Joel was taken from us much too soon. He would have been an excellent teacher and guide into the organization.”
“Well, here’s a stupid question.” Cullen could feel the anger rising as he took in all the information. “If Emlen is one of two surviving Descendants, and you have this vast organization designed to keep them safe, how the actual fuck did anyone get even close enough to her to attempt murder more than once?”
Liam shook his head and let out a sigh. “It doesn’t work like that. Yes, we have a lot of resources we can tap, but Garda are not on duty all the time. Like your father, he had been called up when assigned Emlen as a child and then released when she had been removed from his care. Her teacher watched her until she went to a different school and gained bodyguards. Your father still did his carpentry job, her teacher still does his teaching job, but for a period of time, they also did this. Make sense?”
Connor shrugged. “I get how the ‘on duty, off duty’ thing works, but what Cullen asked still holds. How did anyone even get close enough to her if you have all these people you can tap to watch her?”
“Free will and a reasonable expectation of privacy,” Liam replied. “That, and we were still scrambling after Emlen’s disappearance from Boston, no idea where she’d settled until Joel let us know she was here, and
then the loss of Joel. We got here as soon as we could and hoped that Joel had explained enough to you so you could fill the gap until we could explain more.”
“Well, what now?” Cullen asked, setting his cup aside.
“You give me your oath that you’ll guard the Descendant. We make sure you have all the resources and contact information, and you continue doing what you’ve been doing. For our part, we will keep trying to track down whomever was pulling Frankie’s strings, find the person behind the attacks, and deal with them,” Liam replied.
“Let’s get started,” Connor said as he and Cullen nodded, then focused when Liam started to speak.
Chapter Twenty-One
Emlen put the cup down on the little table beside her, stretching carefully as she enjoyed the glimpses of the harbor between the lilac bushes. Ideally, she wanted to be out on the front deck, but the guys were still so paranoid about her safety. Right now, the screen porch presented a better option to get some alone time. There hadn’t been much of it the last couple of weeks. Between Cullen, Connor, and the guards from the Cardinal, there was always someone around. It took almost three days of convincing before Cullen agreed to let her favorite hairdresser, Lacy Ann come do her hair and makeup for the event tonight.
That was something else new. In her research, she learned everything she could about her father and what he’d been up to the past twenty years. He had recently married his third wife, Elise Matthews and now stepping up his career in government from Senator of Massachusetts to Vice President to the highest office in the United States. Tonight’s event, a fundraising gala for the campaign where the candidate for Vice President was the guest of honor. Hugh Bannerman, the candidate for President, would be at a gala in his hometown of Philadelphia, so the Boston event was all about John Frederick “JJ” Jackson.
Dad.
A shiver ran through her, a mix of excitement and wariness at the thought of finally meeting him face to face at an age when she would remember him. Photos had told her that she had his hair color and eyes, definitely his eyes, as well as his height, but the rest she got from her mom. It was almost eerie how much she looked like him and she wondered if the similarities would be as striking in person.
She hoped so. Emlen really hoped the shock of him seeing her in front of him would rattle him enough to say something he normally would not. A proven tactic she used as a reporter now and then, but this wasn’t just some story, this was her life.
The brothers were not pleased with this plan and had argued against her attending at all. The Cardinal pulled rank and told them her plan had merit and they needed to fall in line or step back.
He had then obtained tickets for Emlen and the brothers, who would go as her escorts. They both had tuxes and she had a violet-hued silk Vera Wang that covered her scars and was still comfortable and elegant. Amber ear drops and her mother’s pendant were all she planned to wear for jewelry. Never without the pendant, it became something her grandmother had often commented, insisting that it wasn’t a fine gemstone. Her argument that she didn’t need to wear it and have it ruin the look of an outfit never won. For some reason, Emlen just didn’t feel comfortable without it. If she wasn’t wearing it around her neck, it was tucked into her bra or wrapped around a wrist as a bracelet. Her fingers went to it now as her thumb rubbed the stone and she gave a crooked smile. She wondered if her father would recognize it or not. Well, tonight, she’d find out.
By the time the three were ready to go, Lacy Ann had left after doing Em’s hair and makeup, hiding the last traces of bruising with her artful brushes and tugging her locks into a cascade of curls pulled up in front and cascading around her shoulders. The three settled into the limo provided, again, by the Cardinal and Emlen accepted a sparkling water, not daring alcohol’s dulling effects on a night like this. “I wish you guys could tell me more about what the Cardinal told you. I get that you don’t want to worry me, but not knowing is worse.”
“We swore an oath, Em,” Connor answered, gaze shifting to his brother where he sat beside her while Connor sat facing them, back to the driver. “There’s nothing we haven’t told you that truly impacts you in any way.”
Cullen looked away as his brother flat out lied to her and curled his fingers around her hand. “Just focus on tonight, love, and let us do our job of supporting and keeping an eye on you, all right?” He lifted her hand and kissed her fingers. “You’re absolutely breathtaking, have I told you that yet?” A smile curled his lips as she rolled her eyes and sipped her drink before settling back into the rich leather seats.
“You did, but you can say it a few more times if you like,” Emlen teased and looked from Cullen to Connor. “I’ve got the two most handsome escorts possible. I’m going to make so many women jealous.”
They all laughed at that and reached to touch glasses in a toast.
“I know you’re nervous, Em, but you don’t look it,” Cullen murmured. “You’re going to be fine. If it turns out he doesn’t want to know you, then it is his loss.”
“And we’ll make sure you’re safe,” Connor added. “Between us and the Garda set up in the hall, no one will be able to blink without someone watching.” He sounded a little awed by the sheer number of resources the Cardinal had put into play for tonight. Of course, he and Cullen knew the reason was because the last two Descendants would be in one place.
The limo pulled up in front of the Boston Park Plaza hotel, a liveried footman opening their door and helping them out. Emlen gripped her silver clutch until her knuckles were white, staring up at the entrance as the brothers each offered her an arm. Looping a hand through both, she headed inside, a breath catching as the sheer number of people swam before her. It had been a while since she had stepped into a crowd and after the attempts on her life, her desire to find a wall and flatten her back against it was overwhelming. Instead, she took a slow breath, pasted a smile on her lips and stepped into the room. A pair of guards stood by the door, checking identification as each person passed through, the coiled earbuds tucked into their collars made it likely they were Secret Service. Just past them, a woman in a blue silk suit and white blouse checked their names and gave them their table assignments, chatting cheerily with many of the guests.
“Emlen Brewster! Oh, my dear. I’m so sorry for your loss. Your grandmother was such a force of nature. Her absence will be felt by so many of us.” The woman clutched Emlen’s hand as she gushed at her and Em’s look of confusion must have baffled her as much as her words had Em at a loss.
Emlen stuttered, “I’m sorry, I don’t know…”
Cullen wrapped an arm around Emlen and gave the woman a polite smile as he guided Em away. “Connor’s looking it up. Keep smiling and I’ll get you to the table.”
Em let him guide her, her face feeling numb from smiling as her thoughts whirled. Her grandmother was dead? No one had even contacted her or…well, not like they could find her. She’d pretty much dropped off the map after the house fire. In the hospital, hidden away - of course they couldn’t have told her. Her shoulders relaxed a little and she curled her fingers around Cullen’s arm. “I’m all right,” she murmured. “It was just a bit of a shock. It’s not like I actually had any affection for the woman. She was never even remotely kind or loving towards me.”
Connor joined them at the table and showed Emlen his phone with a police file pulled up on the screen. “They’re calling it a botched home invasion attempt. She was shot the same day of your house fire.”
Emlen’s hand shook as she reached for the glass of water in front of her and took a careful sip. Somehow, the person who had been trying to kill her had also killed her grandmother. She had no proof, but her gut was telling her that it was all connected. “Maybe this was a bad idea, coming here.”
“No, Em. It’s time to face him and see if he’s behind all of this. His reaction to seeing you will tell us everything, Cullen replied, taking her hand in his. “You can do this.”
Connor added, a hand on her opposi
te shoulder, “We can do this. You’re not alone. We’re right here beside you.”
A moment passed, then another before Emlen lifted her gaze. First looking at Cullen, then at Connor, she gave them both a smile. “Thank you, both of you. You’re right, I couldn’t do this alone, but with you guys, I can.”
Cullen kissed her cheek and Connor squeezed her shoulder before they were interrupted by a man stepping up to the podium on the stage. Voices rose for a moment, then stilled as he leaned into the microphone. “I’m Brett Sellers, Mr. Jackson’s chief of staff, and I want to welcome you all to our event this evening. In just a few minutes, Mr. Jackson will be taking the stage. Could I ask everyone to please find their tables and take their seats? Thank you.”
Noise filled the room once more as people began milling about, finding their seats and greeting their table companions. Each table had been set for twelve, but only three other couples settled at their table, all offering polite greetings. Just when it looked like there would be some empty seats, another woman and two men sat near Connor and he nodded at them in greeting. Emlen recognized them as three of the Cardinal’s protector team, dressed for the evening in tuxes - even the female member wore a woman’s tux with a glittering sequined top underneath. Em’s hands were sweating and she reached for the linen napkin, scrubbing it between her palms under the table as she took slow breaths, doing her best to calm her nerves. She was about to see her father, in person, for the first time that she could remember. If she could, she would have wished for her mother’s spirit to be there to comfort her, but she’d not heard or scented a trace of her since the house fire. A part of her worried that with the house gone, whatever held her mother’s spirit here might have been destroyed.
Her thoughts were interrupted by Sellers again at the microphone, then a growing roar of applause and “Hail Columbia” being played from the speakers. Everyone got to their feet and Em rose as well, eyes on the curtain in back as it fluttered and then parted for John Frederick Jackson to step out onto the stage. Their table placed in the second row from the stage, a little off to the side so she had a very clear view of the man to whom she owed half of her biological makeup. Her breath caught for a moment and Cullen wrapped an arm around her waist, supporting her quietly. She gave him a quick, faint smile and turned back to see JJ trying to quiet the crowd as people re-took their seats. As people settled, her gaze was drawn to a man about her height, short white hair and a neatly trimmed moustache and goatee. A surge of memories from when she called him ‘uncle’ washed over her, colored now with the knowledge that he was much more than that. Time to challenge his watchful attention, his habitual sneer of disapproval; she rose to her feet and pulled away from Cullen, heading past the few tables that stood between them.
