by Jane Cousins
Declan for his part was enjoying the sheep coup d’état, as he had come to call the campaign. Camping out at Cedric’s small farm was a nice change in their usual routine of slash and behead. Plus he rather enjoyed listening to Cedric’s wild theories on commercial applications of magically modified household pets. Hadleigh for her part couldn’t help but think that Cedric deserved to be called to account for his actions. Not that she was considering throwing her lot in with Snowball and his pals but still she felt some sympathy for them which made this detail of protecting Cedric rather a depressing chore.
So it was a relief then on day ten of their assignment to receive a call from the High Council secretary, requesting that she report to the Council offices first thing in the morning. With a spring in her step and a smug smile and wave to Declan she had departed for home quick smart to sharpen and polish all her favourite weapons in readiness. Surely the call meant a new threat was looming that needed to be addressed in hopefully the bloodiest manner possible. Her whole body itched to draw blood, which was the problem with being part warrior, the bloodlust. Perhaps she should reconsider taking up a sport or joining in some type of team activity to take the edge off. But no, she’d been banned from the tennis club, the squash courts and even the local swimming pool for rough play. Was there any club in the area left who might still be clueless concerning her reputation? Hmm, she’d have to think on it.
She was contemplating learning how to play croquet as she entered the Council building the next morning, smiling slightly at the thought of all the ways becoming proficient with a mallet might come in useful. Right angle and it could take someone’s head off just as easily as a sword. It was a nice thought.
The Council building was a huge white gothic monstrosity that took up the entire South side of the main town square. It housed the town library up on the fourth floor whilst the planning, services and records departments were on the third. The second floor consisted of all the offices, chambers and courtrooms associated with the local legal and justice systems. The ground and first floor were devoted to the High Council offices and the official High Council meeting chamber. Only those who were appointed to the Council itself knew what went on down in the basement.
Hadleigh nodded at Big Thom who stood at the base of the massive marble staircase in a stiff grey security uniform, not so much a tall man as a very broad man. Thom’s dark eyes shifting constantly from person to person registering their threat level as they entered the huge entrance area. Big Thom was an ex-family enforcer who’d been bitten by a gargoyle a decade or so ago. The bite meant his skin was now tougher than titanium and though it hadn’t managed to slow him down any, it had resulted in him becoming remarkably territorial. It had been his decision to become the High Council Protector. The local kids whispered amongst themselves that he turned to stone at night but Hadleigh had witnessed the man dancing into the wee hours at many a family party. He was a surprisingly smooth mover on the dance floor for a man of his size.
Her steel tipped boots sounded loud on the marble entrance floor as she made her way behind the massive staircase and pushed through the glass doors into the ground floor High Council offices. The reception area consisted of several comfy armchairs in various shades of green clustered off to one side, whilst a large oak desk dominated the rest of the room. The area itself was empty of inhabitants, including the desk which had several large stacks of unopened mail on it and a phone that was ringing, beeping and blinking several red lights all at once. Okay mystery number one, where was everyone?
Mystery number two was the noisy racket echoing from down the lobby; the screeching of a bandsaw, several hammers banging and a nail gun firing off at regular intervals. Following the plush light green carpet down the lobby Hadleigh noted that all of the admin offices were empty and there was a general air of abandonment hovering over the place. She followed the construction noise to the rear of the building, surprised to find that it was one of the large offices that faced out on to the back veranda undergoing renovations. The rear offices were reserved for members who served on the High Council.
Whoever was redecorating had certainly lit a fire under the workmen. Standing in the doorway on a drop sheet she counted seven workmen scurrying around performing several different jobs at once. If she didn’t know better Hadleigh would have sworn the men almost looked … scared.
Glancing up and down the row of Council member offices she wondered exactly who had put in the urgent call for her presence. The bandsaw finally fell quiet and she could hear the indistinct murmur of female voices off to her right. Leaving the workers to get on with their chores Hadleigh headed in that direction, passing three more empty offices before entering the personal library of the High Council members. A medium sized room filled with ceiling high bookcases and an assorted number of plush reading chairs clustered in a circle.
Normally the room had an old world, time stands still feel about it but that was before someone had filled every spare surface with stacks of paint and fabric sample books. At first Hadleigh thought the catalyst for the room’s appearance was her third cousin once removed Daria; the owner of Joker, the poor gerbil who was afraid of heights that she kept endangering to lure Declan over to her house. She was standing by the empty fireplace, wringing her hands together, looking pale and intense in an orange dress that clashed badly with her red lipstick and the lopsided red wig Declan had mentioned she had recently taken up wearing. Was that hideous tangled mop supposed to resemble her own neglected hair? If so, maybe she should reconsider visiting Charisse’s hairdresser for a consult.
From her position in the doorway Hadleigh could hear Daria pleading … with? She took two stealthy steps further into the room noting Great Aunt Alma was sprawled on the carpet at Daria’s feet, perusing fabric swatches.
“…it’s obvious I’m telling you. He just needs a little push that’s all.”
Alma, looking trim and comfortable in olive green loose trousers and a cranberry coloured short sleeve blouse appeared to be actively ignoring her visitor as she flicked through the fabric sample book balanced precariously on her lap.
“Honestly, you’ll hardly need to lift a finger. I’m ready I tell you and he’s definitely the one … a woman just knows when the right man comes along.”
Alma expelled a long breath before lifting her head to look at Daria. “Dearest. You’re right, a woman does know. But as I’ve tried to explain and no doubt you can guess from the sheer chaos surrounding me.” She waved an elegant hand in the air. “I’m still getting organised. I need an office. I need my files before I can start giving any of those little pushes, as you so quaintly put it. But there is absolutely nothing to stop you in the interim from pinning down Mr Right. Ah…” Alma jumped a little in surprise as she glanced over suddenly noting Hadleigh. Though Hadleigh had a feeling her Great Aunt had known of her presence from the moment she had stepped into the room, probably the building. “My ten o’clock appointment is here.”
Daria’s eyes snapped up and for an instant Hadleigh saw real hatred flare in those cloudy brown depths. “You’re starting with her?”
Alma laughed lightly. “Dearest don’t be silly, I might like a challenge but even I know when to quit when I’m ahead. No Hadleigh’s here on enforcement business. Now you run along. I promise I’ll give you a call as soon as my office is up and running. Off you go.”
Daria stalked by Hadleigh, sending a glare in her direction before she exited the room in a cloud of cloying perfume.
“Come in, come in.” Once again an elegant hand was lifted into the air, this time in a vague welcoming gesture. “Find a seat darling girl. Just move what’s ever there.”
Hadleigh swept a few fabric books on to the floor so she could take up residence in a crème silk over stuffed armchair. Alma dropped her sample books and scooted back slightly so she could rest her back against the side of a nearby loveseat. Tilting her head, she swept her perfectly shoulder length styled grey hair behind one ear studying her n
ew companion closely with those light brown eyes that appeared to miss nothing in their assessment of Hadleigh; from the practical if somewhat ugly boots, the fitted black canvas trousers, up past the tight, lightweight wool blend black long sleeve top to her make-up free face and tousled red hair.
“I’m not here to be matched.” Hadleigh blurted out, fighting the urge to squirm in her seat under such intense scrutiny.
“Just like your father.” Alma shook her head slightly, amusement twinkling in her eyes.
“Tall?” Enquired Hadleigh, unable to keep the scowl off her face.
“I was thinking surly actually.” Alma responded with a small chuckle of amusement. “But yes I suppose you are tall.”
Hadleigh tensed, waiting for the inevitable follow up veiled insult.
“But you carry the height well and that’s all that matters really. Now enough small talk, let’s get down to business.”
“Matchmaking business?” Hadleigh’s tone was leery, her inner alarm bells signalling approaching danger.
“Goddess no. All I can think about at the moment is colour swatches, patterns and furniture catalogues. What I need from you darling girl is a favour … a personal favour.”
Hadleigh was suspicious by nature and this so called favour of Alma’s was jumping on every nerve ending she had. “Let’s hear it.”
“Well I was on the Para-X fan site yesterday, the most dreadful thing has happened!” Alma paused for what Hadleigh could only assume was dramatic impact, which was wasted on her since she had absolutely no idea what Alma was talking about. “Serena has left the show! Just up and gone! According to X-citeme106 there are still four episodes left to film this season. This could seriously affect their chances of being renewed next year.”
“Oh … no,” was all Hadleigh could manage to mutter, her left leg starting to jiggle with impatience.
“Yes it’s an absolute nightmare. Who’s going to backup Professor Xander?”
All Hadleigh could do was shrug, she couldn’t provide an answer to a question she was unable to comprehend.
“Plus if they bring in the wrong replacement it might affect their ratings. This in turn might threaten their chances of being renewed.”
“Ratings? Are you talking about a TV show?”
“Not just a TV show, Paranormal Exterminators! I can’t believe you haven’t heard of it. I’m not normally a big fan of reality shows but I find myself unusually captivated by Para-X.”
Hadleigh could only shake her head in momentary confusion. Reality show? Aunt Alma was obsessed with a TV show? And she was supposed to fix whatever it was that had gone wrong with it?
“It records the adventures of Professor Xander Marr and his team as they follow up on a paranormal report each week and attempt to verify and capture evidence on tape.” Alma shook her head slightly in frustration. “It’s a lot more exciting than I make it sound, and that Professor Xander … he really is quite something to watch. A woman from Atlanta introduced me to the show a couple of years ago on a cruise to South Africa. Frightfully superior woman but I’ve become a devoted Para-X watcher ever since.”
“Sorry but I’ve never heard of the show.” Was all Hadleigh could manage. “I don’t even own a TV.”
“Really? You’re not one of those TV snobs are you?”
“My apprentice put a sword through my old set two years ago and I suppose I’ve just never bothered to replace it. I’m not really a sit still sort of person.” Hadleigh concentrated on stilling her tapping left foot.
Alma bestowed a sweet smile in her direction. “I do appreciate an open mind in a person.”
“Well, um, I’m sorry to hear they’re experiencing problems but I don’t really understand what this has to do with me?” Hadleigh fought to keep the impatience out of her voice. She’d almost rather be out there hunting invisible sheep than trapped in this overheated library having a strangely random conversation about a TV show she’d never even heard of.
“Why you’ll replace Serena for the remainder of the season.” Alma stated it as if anyone included in the conversation would have drawn the same conclusion.
“Me! I don’t think so. I have a full time job as an enforcer. It’s not like I can just take four weeks off. I have a responsibility to the family.”
“Oh I’ve taken care of that. When I asked Ward if there was someone on the enforcement team who had a lot of holiday time owing your name was top of the list.”
Hadleigh battled the urge to start stripping the fabric off of the armchair in frustration. Great Uncle Edward was head of the Council and she’d witnessed in the memory Quinn had shown her at the wedding just how determined he was to keep his kid sister Alma here and happy. “And I was the only one who Edward could recommend?” Was that her voice sounding so strained?
“Top of the pile.”
Alma gave her that sweet reassuring smile again which was sending Hadleigh’s gut instinct into overdrive. She was being played. She was sure of it but exactly what angle Alma was coming from was yet to be determined.
“Now here’s the address. There’s an audition scheduled this afternoon at four so you’ll only have a couple hours to pack.”
“There’s an audition? What makes you think I’ll be the one they pick?” Hadleigh could see a vague glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel as train ‘Alma’ barrelled towards her. If she didn’t get the part there was nothing Alma could do about it surely.
“Darling girl, you’re family. I have all the faith in the world that you will be successful. I’ve read your file.” Alma offered her a saucy wink. “You like to win and there doesn’t appear to be a challenge yet that you haven’t conquered, hog tied and called your bitch.”
Hadleigh blinked, she didn’t have any response to that assessment of her character.
“Now.” Alma made a little moue with her lips as she once again assessed Hadleigh from head to toe. “The production offices are in Atlanta, I suggest you run home and change into something a little fun, flirty and feminine before heading there for the interview. Good luck Darling.”
Chapter Five
“Fun, flirty … feminine … my left butt cheek.” Hadleigh was still muttering under her breath several hours later as she sat in the Maat Production Company reception area.
She was filling in the questionnaire the receptionist had handed to her when she’d checked in. Not just a receptionist, the girl could give a top supermodel a run for her money. In fact every woman in the room could enter that particular competition.
Between scrawling in her answers Hadleigh sent searching looks around the room. Where had all these gorgeous women come from? Thank Goddess Declan wasn’t here with her, it definitely would have gotten nasty. And the outfits these women were wearing. Oh there was the occasional thigh skimming summer dress that fit Alma’s criteria of fun, flirty and feminine to a T. However the majority of hopefuls were wearing what Hadleigh could only assume was a facsimile of the costume Serena wore on the show; a tight purple tank top, tinier sparkly purple short shorts and purple go-go boots.
There had been no mention of having to wearing a costume … she was sure of it.
She, in stark contrast was still in the outfit she had met Alma in that morning. Her ass kicker boots, black pants and long sleeve V-necked black top. She hadn’t even run a brush through her tousled short curls before arriving, on principle. What that principle was Hadleigh could no longer remember. She just remembered how Alma’s parting comment on what to wear had sent her over the edge. So between the under her breath muttering Hadleigh’s left foot was tapping like it might drum its way through the floor.
Hadleigh scrawled ‘BEHEAD!’ as the answer to number 56. In fact that had been her answer for 52 of the last questions. Her pen biting so deeply into the paper she was in danger of tearing it. It wasn’t just her clothes making her feel out of sorts, it was the glaring physical differences between her and all these wannabe reality stars that was making her feel uncomfortable. Not a one of th
ese Barbies was over 5.10ft, which meant even sitting down she was still literally head and shoulders taller than they were. And whilst there was plenty of cleavage on display none of these starlets in training was bigger than a perky B cup … and their asses were all tiny! How did they get their asses so small? Hadleigh had been training practically every day of her life and in comparison her ass was huge.
But it wasn’t just their height or their trim athletic curves that bothered her. It was their flawless make-up highlighting perfect cheekbones, come hither eyes and kiss me quick high glossed lips. How could she compete with all that glamour? And what was up with their hair? Uniformly glossy without a strand out of place as if they had all come straight from the salon and had never heard of either humidity or wind.
Grrrr, between inventing increasingly creative ways to punish Great Aunt Alma for this humiliating experience she answered the final four questions. With a suppressed sigh she rose to her feet, refusing to acknowledge that every eye in reception was tracking her progress as she hulked over to the reception desk to hand over the completed form.
“Thanks Honey, just take a seat. We’ll be calling names for the next stage in about an hour.”
Hadleigh forced a bleak smile of thanks, Goddess another hour of this torturous reception area! Returning she found there had been a reshuffle of the seats, the only one free meant she now had a view out into the entrance foyer.
Around her there was a quiet murmur of voices as some of the candidates chatted, whilst others studied scripts which Hadleigh could only guess were for other upcoming auditions. With nothing else to do Hadleigh contemplated the huge mural painted on the far foyer wall. It depicted the Egyptian Goddess Maat holding up the scales of justice. Her Staff of Righteousness glowed with power next to her, whilst Punishment, Honour, Truth and Balance, her four Spears, surrounded her. Above the Goddess flew her Seekers of Chaos, the Hawk and the Eagle. The mural was beautiful, the paint lush and expensive looking; all golds, yellows and saffron. In fact the entire outfit was expensive looking from top to bottom. Hadleigh had ported into the ladies room in the CNN tower a block over and had had no trouble in locating the Maat Enterprises Tower. The building glowed a sandy gold in the late afternoon sunshine, shooting up over 85 floors to cast shadows across all the lesser, darker buildings around it.
