by T. G. Ayer
“But you need to rest. We both do.” What had the ambassador been thinking by making such a sudden arrangement?
“He’s doing what he has to do, Allegra. If we are forced to leave here tomorrow how will it look if he hadn’t taken advantage of what little time he had while you were here.”
Allegra sighed. “Politics and diplomacy.”
“Exactly.” They both turned and headed to their rooms. Alone, Allegra contemplated Max’s revelation. She’d expected to be furious and jealous. Weren’t women supposed to be furious and jealous when their lovers introduced previously-unmentioned girlfriends or wives?
So why was Allegra not jealous?
Was it because she no longer cared for him? Had Max’s betrayal on Aulus’s instructions really destroyed her affection for him?
She shook her head as she unpacked her suitcase to look for an appropriate dress. Allegra could no more claim to have no feelings for Max than to claim that her blood ran blue instead of red.
The thought of Celestra—though it did not bring on waves of red jealousy—did manage to instill a wave of dislike. Was this perhaps just another form of jealousy? Allegra considered how she felt, but when her stomach began to tighten she pushed the thoughts aside and concentrated on preparing for the evening.
She opened Xenia’s box—which she’d run through earlier—and selected a pale peach floor-length dress, laying it on the bed before heading into the bathroom. She’d bathed earlier, so all she had to concentrate on was her makeup.
Xenia was the expert when it came to technique, and Allegra wished for a moment that her friend was there. Not for the makeup; but to give Allegra the moral support she needed.
After touching up her eyes and lips, Allegra sat back and studied her reflection. At times, she didn’t recognize the person in the mirror. She was a killer, and it felt a little easier sometimes to pretend the woman reflected back at her was the one responsible for death, the one with blood on her hands.
But then, eventually, Allegra had to give up that fanciful thought and face the truth. She was the killer.
A glance down at her hands gave Allegra reason to sigh with relief. For now, they were clean, not a trace of blood in sight.
And Allegra hoped it would stay that way.
Chapter 8
The residential suburbs of Qusqu were set back from the city, somewhat protected by forested land giving the area an air of untouched beauty.
The homes here in Peru were oddly similar to those in the States, the latest architecture vied for space with buildings reminiscent of ancient mud-wall buildings. Still, the combination seemed to work well enough that the street provided a beautiful view.
The darkness hindered much of their visibility, though torches lit not only the buildings but the street-corners too. The city had seen fit to provide the residents with street-lighting, not unusual in this day and age, but not common enough to be taken for granted.
The ambassador’s gated property was guarded by two fierce-looking sentries. They both wore the standard blood-red skirts and gold body armor, but that was as far as it went in terms of a fashionable statement of class.
Allegra was relieved to see the ambassador hadn’t participated in the latest trend where house staff were dressed and treated like the lowliest of slaves. The new trend, a mere reflection of ancient times, had elicited a lot of negative publicity with people complaining it encouraged exploitation of staff.
Allegra could understand completely having seen it first-hand not too long ago in the home of a well-known tennis player. The memory reminded her she’d only had her visions for a short time, which explained why she was struggling with them. It wasn’t as if she could pick up the phone and ask another oracle for advice.
McIvor had sent a car for them, and now, as they drew up in front of the house, Allegra glanced at Max. He’d been quiet the entire drive which was pretty unusual for him. He was always the one trying to put her at ease.
The car slowed and then jerked to a stop as the two sentries began to open the giant wrought-iron gates.
The short drive up to the entrance was lined with overhanging wide-leaved emerald-green fronds of trees and plants Allegra was unfamiliar with. Fauna and flora were not her forte.
Still, despite her lack of interest in species and subspecies of plants, Allegra was able to appreciate the beauty of the gardens and the lost-in-the-jungle atmosphere it evoked.
When they drew up in front of the house, Max grunted. Allegra was already frowning as she turned to glance at him, not surprised to find him studying the mansion with much the same expression as she had.
“Ostentatious?” she said beneath her breath.
“Very.”
“Unusual?”
“Very.”
“There is a residence within the embassy building, isn’t there?” Allegra asked.
Max nodded. “A floor below the offices, and one above where we are staying.”
“So . . . is McIvor independently wealthy?”
“Not that I know of. Neither him nor his wife came from this type of money.” Max pursed his lips. “I find it curious. On a government salary, this type of grandeur is suspicious.”
“Makes it all suspicious. Do you think he’s on the take?”
Max shrugged. “I can’t guess until I know more. We’ve got our work cut out for us. If he’s deep enough in their pockets, then there is a chance you and I will be on the next plane out.”
“Guess we need to be on our best behavior, then.”
“That’s what I was afraid of,” said Max as he opened the door and helped Allegra out.
The long skirt of Xenia’s creation slid to the ground, and Allegra felt almost regal. Her friend certainly possessed the taste Allegra lacked. It was a pity Xenia couldn’t have been with them tonight, but Allegra had insisted she leave as soon as possible. There was no way she was about to risk her friend’s life, especially not in the face of actually knowing something was about to go terribly wrong. She’d seen Xenia die once before. And even though it had been a prophesied death that had eventually been averted, Allegra did not want to have to see such a thing again.
Now she walked up the steps to the entrance of the ambassador’s home, one which could be called palatial by any standards. The Roman architecture with its tall columns and stone frontages should have seemed out of place within the city, but with the residences along the street, all so different from each other the mansion was no more unusual than the pyramid next door and the minarets across the street.
A line of people waited at the entrance, all entering at the announcement of their names. Allegra’s heart thudded in her throat. She hated being put on show and she knew this was exactly what it appeared to be; the Pythia being paraded around for all to see. And as quickly as possible in case she was required to leave the country the next day.
“Allegra Damascus. The Lady Pythia, Oracle of the Ages. Escorted by Commander Maximus Vissarion of the New Germanic States.”
Max gave her his arm, and she latched onto it, while keeping her fingers out of her range of sight. At the moment, they were nice and clean, but it was safer to not look at all. Perhaps the dramatic entrance was distracting her, but she couldn’t assume she wouldn’t experience an attack tonight.
That would be presumptuous.
They descended a set of six stairs, lined on either side by trees and fronds, interspersed with golden statues and gigantic amphorae. The ambassador and his wife—a small gilt-haired woman—were waiting for them at the bottom of the stairs, and McIvor turned toward them, his glance sweeping and somewhat surprised, as if he’d only just realized they’d arrived.
Given the announcement had likely deafened every person present, Allegra thought the fakery was stupid on the part of the ambassador. All he’d managed to do was lower himself in her esteem by a few more points.
He held out his hand to indicate their arrival, and Max and Allegra went to the couple.
“My Lady. Welcome
to our humble abode.”
Oh dear.
“May I introduce you to my wife, Elana.” Elana McIvor held out her hand, clearly unconscious or ignorant of what could be in store for her.
Before Allegra could do anything in response, Max reached for the woman’s hand and pumped it cheerfully. “Thank you so much for opening your beautiful home to use, Elana.”
Elana blushed. “It was only my pleasure. We are honored to have the Pythia within our home.” She met Allegra’s gaze. “Please . . . my home is your home . . . and I mean that sincerely. I only wish you could have stayed with us—”
“Dear, I don’t think we should concern ourselves with politics tonight.” He gave her a glance that was filled with some unsaid message. One Elana received and felt admonished enough to blush deeply again.
Allegra’s eyes narrowed as she watched McIvor, and she decided she was no longer going to tolerate his boorish behavior. She took a step closer to his wife. “Elana. You must tell me. Is that your natural hair color?”
Elana beamed as she touched her copper hair. “Yes, it is. Isn’t it wonderful?”
Allegra would have been taken aback by such self-praise, but oddly enough it seemed Elana was totally devoid of vanity. She spoke of her stunning hair as she would have of a beautiful sunrise. Not something to own, but rather something that just was.
“It certainly is wonderful.” Allegra stepped away, glancing over at the table filled with canapés and Elana took the hint. She was, after all, a diplomat’s wife.
“I hope you forgive me, but I won’t introduce you around. Not everyone here would expect to meet the Pythia face-to-face, and if we walked over and introduced you, we may frighten some of them.”
“Oh dear.” Allegra’s stomach twinged.
“Oh, no. Please take no offense. It’s just access to the Oracle is seen as an exclusive thing within the Qusquan tradition. And there’s a hierarchy we really shouldn’t breach.”
Allegra respected that and deferred to Elana’s diplomatic understanding. Over the next half hour, Elana pointed out at least three dozen influential business-owners, officials and high-ranking members of the Qusquan government.
Elana never faded, keeping up the small talk, feeding Allegra with both bites of food and local gossip. The woman was completely guileless, and Allegra was left to wonder how she’d ended up married to the pretentious and manipulative McIvor.
Just when Allegra was beginning to feel a headache coming, Elana waved down a tall man, whose clean-shaven face and angular bone structure marked him as of Aztec in ancestry. He walked over, his gait smooth and unhurried and gave Allegra a polite smile.
“General Qhapaq, have you met Lady Allegra?” Elana waved at Allegra.
The general bowed briefly and then straightened. “I have not yet had the pleasure.”
With jet lag still running thickly through Allegra’s veins, she moved forward automatically, her hand outstretched to shake the General’s. But she found her hand hovering in the air, with the general glaring at it as if it were a spitting viper.
Chapter 9
“My Lady, you may forgive me if I do not touch you.” The general’s eyes flashed coldly as he spoke.
Allegra stiffened, then smiled. “I apologize, General Qhapaq. I’m just a little tired after the long trip. I forgot for a moment.”
The general bowed, but from his expression, it was clear he didn’t believe her. He walked off, mumbling some excuse about having to speak to someone, leaving Elana staring at Allegra, her mouth open.
“Now what in the world was that about?” she said, her eyes following the general who crossed the room and whispered something to an aide, then glanced over at the two women. His eyes were filled with suspicion.
Allegra sighed. “I’m sorry, Elana. It’s clear you are not aware . . . but sometimes all it takes to see a person’s future is a simple touch. Some people know about the intricacies of how the seeing works, and it seems the general believes we are here to dupe him in some way. To extract his future from him on the pretense of a handshake.”
“Oh dear,” Elana breathed the shocked words. She took a step forward. “Perhaps we need to explain to him. I’m afraid that would put a strain on diplomatic relations, and if Liam were to find out, he’d be upset.”
Allegra touched Elana’s shoulder, ensuring her fingers met only fabric. “You’ll be wasting your time. What’s done is done, and should you try to fix it, it will likely make things worse.” Allegra bent her head to meet the woman’s eyes. “Just let it alone. We will explain what happened. If it comes to that.”
Somewhat comforted, Elana led Allegra around the room to meet up with her husband again. As they approached Allegra caught sight of a dark-haired woman bending close to Max’s ear.
Celestra.
Allegra found a sudden heat fill her gut, the energy pushing her to move faster, as if to get to Max’s side before . . . before what? Allegra shook her head. What was wrong with her? Was it possible she was jealous?
Allegra shook her head. She was not the jealous type.
As she reached Max’s side, Celestra looked up and met Allegra’s eyes. A smile formed on her lips, friendly, unconscious, until she straightened and looked over Allegra’s shoulder. Then the smile disappeared, and her lips formed a thin line.
Allegra glanced over her shoulder, but the only person she saw in Celestra’s line of sight was the general.
Odd.
Allegra gave Max a stiff glare and moved toward Celestra. Max took the hint and moved to talk to McIvor and his wife while Allegra shifted to Celestra’s side, giving her a smile as she leaned over the table to grab a piece of orange corncake. “I’m not sure what’s going on with you . . . but I feel I must tell you that I touched you.”
That was all she needed to say.
Celestra stiffened then gave Allegra a surreptitious glance. She too reached for a piece of the cake, and as she turned away to rest the knife back onto the knife-plate, she said, “I’ll come to your room tonight.”
Then she turned, glared at Allegra coldly and walked off.
Allegra went cold. Whatever Celestra was up to, her acting ability had been developed beyond the talent of even some of the highest-paid award-winning actors on the silver screen to date.
Considering she lived her life at the business end of a deadly blade—taking into account the way her life is meant to end—Allegra was not surprised.
The rising volume of the orchestra at the other end of the room drew Allegra’s attention.
McIvor moved toward his wife who smiled as he took her hand and led her to the dance floor, which quickly emptied of the guests. A crowd had gathered along the four sides of the floor, and a rush of applause filled the room.
Max moved closer to Allegra’s side, his expression when he glanced at her confirming he hadn’t expected the display.
The music rose, dramatic notes that fell to almost silence before it picked up again. As if hearing a cue—which Allegra was unable to identify—the ambassadorial couple began to dance. Elana’s dress shimmered in the light as her husband gripped her waist and spun with her in a wide circle. His gaze, though on his wife’s face seemed to flit around the room as if in search of someone.
Celestra came to stand at Allegra’s side, then leaned forward to look pointedly at Max. “I believe it’s your turn.”
“I don’t dance.”
She gave her a sly smile. “Of course, you do.” Then she paused and met Allegra’s eyes. “Sometimes you don’t have much of a choice in these things. You should dance if you hope to not offend the ambassador’s graciousness. And the Pythia would not want to be seen as rude.” The woman’s voice seemed to soften, and then her expression hardened, as if she’d suddenly remembered something. Then her eyes shuttered, and she stepped away from Allegra and Max.
“We should listen to her,” Allegra murmured to Max, her eyes on the couple swaying to the music.
“Fine. Had I known I would have made
an effort to practice.” He gave her his elbow. “Just don’t be surprised when I tread on your toes.”
Allegra gave him a humorless smile and curved her hand around his elbow, allowing him to lead her to the dance floor. As they moved, she kept an eye on the guests, taking in faces, expressions, body language. Whoever was influencing McIvor was good at not showing their hand tonight. Not even once.
Unless General Qhapaq was involved.
Allegra filed that thought away and concentrated on not dancing on Max’s toes. He’d lied about his inability to dance, and she glanced up at his face, narrowing her eyes at him.
“You can dance.” Her tone was accusatory.
He shrugged as he took her hand to send her into a double twirl. Bringing her close to his chest he said, “I don’t like being on display.”
“Then you’d better get used to it considering you are always on display when you are at my side . . .. And I am always on display.”
His expression darkened and then Max snorted. “When people see you, I don’t think they even know I am there. You are the one they come to see.”
Allegra didn’t want to get into an argument with him about what she stood for, as opposed to what she wanted to stand for.
They danced for a few minutes, and Allegra allowed herself to enjoy the feel of his body against hers. They hadn’t spoken much in the last few days, the hurt in her heart making it difficult to converse with him without remembering his betrayal. She’d been afraid of breaking down if they broached the subject, but she knew the time would come when she had to accept the change in their relationship.
Max had continued as if nothing had happened, and at some level that hurt more than anything. Part of her had wanted him to challenge her, to demand she listen to his side of the story, but instead he’d stepped back and said nothing, preferring to skirt the issue entirely.
Max’s palm pressed against her spine a little too hard. A warning. She forced a bright smile to her face and lifted her gaze to meet his. He seemed unable to convey the message and merely held himself stiff.
