by Amy Patrick
“How?” Lad asked.
“Nox is going to trade me for her—to Reggie Dillon—he’s the Dark Elf who has her now. And then I’ll escape.”
Lad’s face contorted into a horrified scowl as he came to his feet, fist clenched. “No—that’s too dangerous—I won’t allow it,” he yelled.
His word choice and kingly tone irked me. It reminded me of the high-handed way he’d treated me the day he told me to go away and never contact him again. And I wasn’t his concern any longer—he had a fiancée to worry about now. Before I’d even realized what I was doing, I was off the couch, too, bowing up to him, pointing a finger at his chest.
“You might be king of the woods back at Altum, but you are not my king—you don’t give me orders. I’m surprised you’re even here—you don’t care about me.” He flinched as I continued my rant. “I am going to get Emmy and bring her home, and you can’t stop me.”
He backed off a bit and lowered his voice. “How Ryann? You can’t possibly pull this off.”
“Maybe she can.” Sometime during our argument, Nox had made his way over to us with Vancia following close behind. He stood beside me and slid an arm around my back. “In fact, Ryann may be the perfect person to do it. She’s like a secret weapon. She looks and acts human—as far as anyone here knows she is human. But she’s three-quarters Elven. She’s not susceptible to most glamour. I’ve seen her display Elven abilities—the Sway, for example. She’s stronger than you know, Lad.”
Lad wheeled around and snarled in Nox’s face. “I know her—far better than you do. And obviously, I’m more concerned about her safety than you are. How could you even think of letting her risk herself by going into a fan pod, especially one run by a much older, stronger Elf than any of us?”
Now it was my turn to raise my voice. “No one is letting me—or not letting me—do anything. I’m making my own decisions. And I’ve decided this is the best way—the only way—to get Emmy back. There’s no point in wasting time arguing over it. Either get with the program, Lad, or… get out of the way. I know you have more important things and more important people to worry about. Why don’t you go back home and take care of them?”
Now his face was the portrait of anguish. His shoulders sagged, and his voice pleaded with me. “Ryann… please don’t do this. You don’t understand…”
“No. I do. I’m on my own. You said it yourself. You refused to help me, and so I found my own way. And it’s working just fine so far. I don’t need you.” I shifted my eyes to his beautiful female companion in a pointed look. “And you clearly don’t need me.”
My voice broke as I spoke the last few words. How humiliating. Suddenly, I just wanted him gone. I couldn’t take any more of this. Lifting my chin, I reached over and groped for Nox’s hand. He clasped my fingers in a reassuring squeeze.
Directing his words at Lad, he said, “Well, Ryann and I have lots of planning to do. I’ll walk you out.”
Lad looked like he might protest, but he said nothing. Together, Nox and I walked to the doors of the suite and opened them, waiting for Lad and Vancia to exit the room. Lad got the message. He walked out the door without a glance at me or Nox. But as Vancia passed us, she and Nox locked eyes for a moment.
Had the old friends shared an unspoken message? If so, what was it?
Not my business, that’s what.
“Thank you,” I whispered to Nox as we fell into step behind our guests, following them to the front doors of his mansion.
He said nothing but gripped my hand tighter and gave me a sweet smile.
Stepping outside, both Vancia and Lad turned around to face us. “Well, goodbye for now,” she said to Nox.
“What will you do about your father?” he asked.
She crossed her arms and shook her head, looking off to the side. “I’m not sure. I don’t know what to think right now. I need more information. We were estranged after the cancelled wedding.” She flicked a glance at me. “But I’m back in his good graces. Let me see what I can find out when I get back home.”
Did she mean Altum—or Atlanta, where Davis lived? And why did she think Davis would tell her anything? I watched her go down the steps of Nox’s mansion and walk to the limo parked in the drive. I didn’t trust her. She acted like she was suspicious of Davis, but by her own admission, she was in his good graces. For all I knew, she was lying to Nox about what she knew about the accident—about him.
She could be tricking Lad as well. The plane crash was five years ago. She’d lived with Davis ever since, called him “Pappa.” She could easily be working with him against the Light Elves. She was, after all, a Dark Elf.
Lad hadn’t followed her to the car. He stood facing me, still wearing a look of deep concern and seemingly reluctant to leave.
“Ryann… please reconsider. I have to leave tomorrow. If I had more time, I might be able to—”
The ache in his voice touched my heart. Which made me mad. My heart and Lad had no more business together. He’d made his choice, and his choice wasn’t me.
“There is no more time—you said it yourself,” I bit out. “Thank you for bringing the warning about my mom and Davis. I’ll call her. I’m guessing she won’t listen to me, though because I think she’s pretty deep under his glamour. And I’ll talk to Grandma and let her know what’s happening—oh my God.” I had to gasp for air as it hit me. “He’s probably glamoured her, too.” This was a mess, and I had to fix it. “Just don’t worry about it. I’ll be home very soon. With Emmy.”
Nox rested a large hand on Lad’s shoulder. “She’ll be fine, brother. I’ll make sure of it.”
Leveling him with a deadly glare, Lad shrugged off Nox’s hand, spun around, and strode quickly toward Vancia, who waited by the limo, still gazing back at Nox.
When they’d driven away, I let out a long breath. “Okay. So… we have a lot to talk about.”
“Understatement of the century,” he said, and we went inside together, hand in hand.
Chapter Twenty-One
Trade
My podmates and I filed off the bus at the Los Angeles Tremors practice facility in Orange County the next day, dressed in the short shorts and team t-shirts provided for us by Amalia. I wasn’t sure how much advance notice she’d been given in order to arrange things like wardrobe for the pod, but she hadn’t seemed the least bit surprised or stressed by the spontaneous plan. Maybe this was how it always worked in the celebrity fan pod world.
Cameras rolled and clicked as we passed the media area near the observation deck. No doubt viewers of sportscasts around the globe would be treated to visions of adoring young female fans worshipping at the altar of Reggie Dillon, and his already enormous fame would grow even bigger. Nox was not just offering Reggie a fresh “shopping experience” by bringing his fan pod here, he was also lending him some of his star power and spotlight. A win-win for everyone—except for the fan pod members themselves.
We spread out and found seats in the fan zone while my eyes searched the sea of similarly dressed girls for Emmy. Unless she’d gotten sick or stayed back at Reggie’s mansion for some other reason, she would be here. I’d finally have my chance to talk to her and hopefully talk some sense into her.
As casually as I could, I made my way toward Reggie’s fan pod girls, always keeping my eyes on the practice field and cheering and clapping at appropriate moments so as not to seem suspicious. Finally reaching the invisible boundary between our group and his, I scanned the spectators again. My heart leapt—there she was!
Emmy was standing with a tight group of four girls—a cute Asian girl, two blondes, and another girl with creamy brown skin similar to Shay’s.
It took everything in me not to drop my façade and run to her and grab her up in a hug. But that wouldn’t be very fan-podish of me. I wasn’t even sure if someone under glamour would be able to recognize someone from home—my suitemates certainly didn’t seem to think of the families and friends they’d left behind.
Squeezin
g past a few bodies at a time, I worked my way toward her. And then there we were, face to face for the first time in weeks. Well, I was face-to-face with her—her eyes were on the field, tracking Reggie Dillon’s every move.
I reached out and touched her forearm. “Emmy?”
Her stare broke. She glanced at me, a strange look passing over her face. Trying to tap into whatever Elven glamour I might possess and read her feelings, I got a distinct impression of confusion, even fear.
“Emmy,” I repeated. “It’s me, Ryann.” It was bizarre to introduce myself to my best friend since preschool, but there was no recognition in Emmy’s eyes. My heart sank. I had hoped my voice might jar her from the fog she was in.
“Ryann?” She shook her head, her expression blank.
“From home. From Deep River.” It’s not working. I had to do something to jar her memory. How would I ever convince Emmy to slip away with me if she didn’t even know who I was?
I’ve seen how the other girls in the house react when you make a suggestion.
Nox’s recent words came back to me. He was convinced I had powerful Sway in my bloodline, and now that I knew who my real father was, maybe he was right.
Davis was chairman of the powerful Senate Science and Technology committee—he was obviously incredibly influential. He’d even been able to glamour my mom, who was half-Elven and apparently Grandma Neena, too—he must have—she’d met him and never mentioned he was Elven.
So it was likely powerful persuasion was his main glamour ability. In fact, considering all the elections he’d won and the lofty position he held in the National government, he was one of the foremost practitioners of the Sway, as Nox had said.
Focusing my mind, I touched Emmy’s arm again and got her attention. When she was looking directly at my eyes, I put my strongest intention behind my words and said, “Come with me.”
She immediately took a step away from her “friends” and toward me.
“Hey, Emmy. Where’re you going?” one of the blondes asked.
“We’re going to the bathroom. Be right back,” I called back over my shoulder, already leading Emmy away from the field and toward the back of the crowd.
“Where are we going?” Emmy stumbled along beside me, but I still wasn’t sure if she had any idea who I was. For all I knew, she was merely following “orders” and was still a glamourized automaton—only this time under my glamour instead of Reggie’s.
We’d nearly made it to the parking lot when a harsh voice snapped my head around.
“Girls! Ryann—what do you think you’re doing?”
Ugh. It was Amalia. Did the woman have eyes in the back of her head and on each side as well? Maybe that was her glamour—extreme observation skills. Time to pretend brainwashed innocence.
“Um, looking for the bathroom? Someone said there are porta-potties around here somewhere.”
Her expression was pure disgust. “They’re over there.” She pointed the opposite direction of where we were headed. “And who is this? She’s not one of ours.”
Dread sliced through my midsection. I couldn’t tip her to what I was up to. “Um… I don’t know her name. She said she knew where the bathroom was? I guess she was mixed up, though?”
It took Amalia a few long strides to reach us. “I’ll lead you there, so you don’t get lost.” Her eyes narrowed as she studied me like a particularly fascinating species of insect. “And you—she nodded to Emmy. Get back with your pod. Ask your house manager for permission before leaving your group.”
Emmy immediately turned and walked away, without another glance at me. A sinking sensation pulled at me. So close. So freaking close.
Amalia wrapped her skinny fingers around my upper arm and basically marched me toward the porta potties. Though everything in me wanted to shrug out of her grasp, I had to force myself to allow her touch.
After staying in the porta potty for a reasonable amount of time to support my cover story, I opened the door. Amalia was waiting for me. Docilely I allowed her to lead me back to my pod and then waited out the remainder of the seemingly never-ending practice session, trying futilely to make eye contact with Emmy again from across the observation area. She never even looked my way.
So, a trade it was.
We might have been able to avoid it, if I’d been successful at slipping away with Emmy, but now there was no other way. Nox had to trade me for her. I’d get out of Reggie’s estate on my own later.
At the end of practice, Reggie came to the sidelines where Nox had been standing and watching for the past half hour. The two of them shook hands then did some manly back-slapping, laughing, and smiling. Clearly Nox was one of the Elven bad boys club as far as he was concerned.
Only I knew better. Or I hoped I did. If not, I was about to find myself at the mercy of one of the hugest and most intimidating men I’d ever seen.
I’d only glimpsed Reggie Dillon in passing on TV, back when my dad was at home and watching football on Sundays. I’d never paid close attention, and since Daddy had moved out, I hadn’t watched any games at all. But now—up close and in person—it was clear to me Reggie was indeed Elven.
He was exceptionally tall, even for an Elf, his height exceeding Nox’s by several inches. And though he’d been playing a rough sport for many years, his face held the improbable handsomeness all Elven males possessed. His smile was white and dazzling against his dark skin, and his eyes sparkled as he conversed with Nox. About what? All the fresh delicacies his new Elven buddy had brought along for him to sample?
I couldn’t stop the churning sensation that thought produced in my gut, but I also knew it was a good thing. We needed Reggie to be interested in Nox’s stable of girls. In me, particularly. We needed him to be willing to make a trade. I could only hope he’d find me appealing enough to hand Emmy over in exchange.
After a few minutes, both Reggie and Nox turned their attention toward the observation deck—toward us. Reggie’s eyes scanned our group, but Nox’s made immediate contact with mine. He leaned his head toward Reggie and pointed in my direction. My heart slammed against my sternum. This was it. Would Reggie turn his nose up at me? Or would he agree with Nox’s recommendation?
I saw the moment his decision was made. The football player’s face split into another dazzling grin, and he nodded and offered Nox a huge hand for high-fiving. I pretended not to notice, casually turning to a girl next to me to ask her if she knew what time it was. Of course she didn’t. None of us were allowed to carry phones, but probably all of us were used to having them because very few wore watches.
Someone tapped me on the shoulder, and I turned to see a Tremors trainer. “How’d you like to meet the quarterback?” the man asked.
He didn’t appear to be Elven—he was stocky and rather short—but then, he didn’t have to be. The whole team wasn’t made of Elves. They’d be unbeatable if they were.
I put on an expression I hoped conveyed delighted surprise and followed the trainer down to the sideline area and over to where Nox and Reggie stood.
“What’s your name?” Nox asked me.
“Ryann,” I answered quickly, understanding he was pretending for Reggie’s sake.
“Well, Ryann, this is Reggie Dillon. Reggie, meet Ryann.”
“Ryann,” Reggie purred in the voice of a man used to having women fall at his feet. “So glad you could make it to training camp today. Did you enjoy watching?’
I gave him an adoring smile. “I did. Especially watching you.”
He beamed back at me in return then cast a conspiratorial look over at Nox, who was definitely not beaming. “This one’s going to be fun.”
I fought the urge to stomp his big toe. He assumed I was halfway to being glamoured by him already. And apparently he was going to agree to the trade. If so, I’d have to make my escape quickly, based on the look in his eye. I fervently hoped he’d had a rough day on the field and was really tired tonight.
When I darted a glance at Nox’s face, the disp
leasure there was loud and clear.
Be cool, I warned him silently. He gave a terse nod.
Replacing the frown with a lascivious grin and directing his gaze at Reggie’s fan pod, he drawled. “All right then. Where’s mine?”
“You can have pretty much whichever one you want,” Reggie said. “I’ve tried almost all of them already.”
“Excellent.” Making a speculative hmmm sound in his throat, Nox pointed out Emmy as if his finger had just happened to land where it had in the crowd. “I’ll take that one.”
“Oh man, I’m sorry. I said you could have pretty much any one. Not that one, though. I’m not done with her yet. Wicked Southern accent—drives me crazy—and Vallon recommended her especially to me.”
Now Nox did dart his eyes at me. I widened mine at him. What are we going to do?
I’m not sure. Let me think, he replied.
“Now you have me intrigued.” Nox chuckled. “What about for just a night?”
Reggie tipped his head back, laughing loudly. “We always want the ones we can’t have, don’t we my friend? Have patience. You’ll have her—and anyone else you want—eventually. Why not take that one tonight?” He waved toward a tiny redhead who looked like she could easily be a ninth-grader. God I hoped she wasn’t. “She’s very enthusiastic,” he added with a wink.
Nox shot me another glance, and he didn’t even have to tell me—I knew he was beginning to balk at the prospect of sending me off with Reggie and without even procuring Emmy in exchange.
Don’t worry. I assured him. This will give me more time with her—I can work on her, get her to remember who she is and why she needs to go home. We’ll escape together.
Hopefully, my mental tone came across more confident than I felt. I had no idea how effective my glamour would actually be on Emmy, and no doubt arranging an escape for two would be even more challenging than an escape for one. I wasn’t exactly Jason Bourne. My resistance to glamour was the only thing I had going for me.
“Fine,” Nox ground out, sounding surly and dissatisfied.
