by Lisa Shearin
“She doesn’t need to see either one of you,” Ian said quietly.
Rake took a deep breath, followed by a growling exhale. “Thank you, Ian.”
“Don’t mention it. You just got the place cleaned up. It looks nice. It’d be a shame if you had to bloody the carpet.”
During the exchange with the governor and Dagara Jakome, Gethen Nazar had been standing guard nearby, close enough to hear, far enough to give his employer privacy. His dark eyes continued to follow the pair as they mingled, and his lips briefly curled back, exposing his fangs. The security chief smoothly wove through the crowd to follow them, determined not to let them out of his sight. Gethen might have jerkish tendencies, but he clearly knew who to hate. That nudged him over toward my “good people” list.
Ian glanced toward the ballroom doors. “FYI, the goblin and elf ambassadors just came in.”
My partner disappeared back into the crowd, having done his white-knight duty.
Rake made no move to go and welcome the ambassadors to the reception.
“You weren’t expecting to see her,” I said.
“Never again.”
That made me feel a little better, but I was still rattled—and angry. It wasn’t like Rake and I had been doing anything beyond casual dating. I knew Rake had slept with a lot of women, at least that was what I assumed. I couldn’t see the reality being anything else. And I figured that in being with Rake, I’d eventually run into one of them at the events and parties he took me to. Tonight was the first time, and what a first time.
“She’s evil,” I blurted. “You sleep with evil people?”
Rake pulled me aside to what passed for privacy in a ballroom. Potted palms were both decorative and discreet.
I had to ask. “So, she was a regular at Bacchanalia, too?”
Silence.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
“It was business. And it was before I met you.” Rake took both of my hands in his.
I resisted the urge to pull away.
“There has been no one since then.” His dark eyes searched my face for some sign that I believed him. “I swear it.”
I did believe him.
Rake was a spymaster for goblin intelligence. He’d told me once that he had gotten some of his best information through his clientele at Bacchanalia.
I tried to keep my breathing even. “Let me guess, you took one—or more—for the team.”
Silence again.
Crap. Well, I did make him promise never to lie to me. I should be more careful what I wish for.
I couldn’t say this wasn’t expected. Dagara Jakome had that whole Mata Hari thing going. She was evil, but I didn’t have to bat for the other team to know she was hot. My eyes worked. Rake’s eyes worked, too—as well as his other parts. He’d probably needed information. Dagara Jakome had that information. Favors were exchanged. Information was traded. Rake may not have considered it personal, but to me it couldn’t have been more so. To him, it was business.
Like he always said, he was a goblin, and goblins were complicated, as were their dealings. And Rake was the ultimate goblin. I knew this. But I never expected to have reality slither up to me and say she thought I’d be taller.
This was business, politics, and espionage, but it was all rolled up into one hot and sweaty, seething ball of lust. Rake had taken one for the team. If he needed to, would he do it now, again, with her?
I thought, and I knew.
No. No, he wouldn’t. At least not now.
That’s what I believed. I knew Rake, and my gut told me that was the truth, not wishful thinking. What I wanted was not to care what Rake did, or with who.
I closed my eyes for a moment and blew out my breath, trying without much success to let my anger go with it. When I opened them, Rake was gazing down at me. He couldn’t read minds—or maybe that was merely another thing he hadn’t told me—but one look told me he knew everything I’d thought and had realized.
His dark eyes glistened.
In gratitude.
“I don’t deserve you,” he whispered.
I stood on tiptoe and leaned in close, my lips against his ear. “Know this. Sleep with that woman again and we’re done. This is not what I signed up for.”
Chapter Eleven
Dakarai Enric and Mago Nuallan paused at the ballroom door, as if giving anyone who hadn’t seen them together earlier a chance to witness firsthand what the other attendees hadn’t stopped talking about.
The goblin and elven ambassadors were besties.
And I got the distinct impression the pair liked causing a stir.
From my reading, I knew that Dakarai Enric was considered the elder goblin statesman, and that Mago Nuallan was the new diplomat to watch in the elven foreign service.
As we crossed the ballroom, Rake bent his lips to my ear. “In his previous career, Mago was a banker, and as I understand, a very good one. So much so that he was the personal banker of the goblin king, Chigaru Mal’Salin. I don’t know all the details, but now he’s Markus Sevelien’s protégé.”
“And Markus is . . .?”
“The head of elven intelligence; my employer’s elf counterpart. Brilliant, cunning, Markus would have made a splendid goblin. I understand he sees Mago as a younger version of himself. Perhaps that’s why he’s taken him under his wing.”
“It doesn’t look like he needs protecting.”
“He doesn’t.” Rake paused. “What I’m about to tell you is for your ears only. The new elven ambassador’s real surname is Benares, though for the time being he wishes to be known as Mago Nuallan. The Benares family is the most successful criminal organization in our Seven Kingdoms. Piracy is their specialty. And while they may be pirates, their honor is unshakable. As a banker, Mago used the surname alias Peronne. He was a vice president at the First Bank of D’Mai; our world’s equivalent is Citicorp.”
Vivienne Sagadraco had briefly borrowed Mago Benares and was introducing him to a blindingly bejeweled lady.
“And now he’s an ambassador?” I thought for a moment. “Then again, I think I just answered my own question. I can see where the skills used by a banker, politician, and pirate would cross over nicely.”
Rake caught the goblin ambassador’s attention as we made our way toward him.
“Makenna, this is Lord Dakarai Enric, royal ambassador to their majesties King Chigaru and Queen Mirabai Mal’Salin. I am honored to call him a good friend of my family.”
The goblin laughed. “The dear boy didn’t say ‘old friend’ because that would be stating the obvious.”
“I aspire to live half as long as you and look a fraction as good,” Rake told him.
“Dakarai, this is Makenna Fraser, one of only five seers for SPI on this world.” Rake lifted my hand to his lips, lightly kissing the back of my fingers. “And the object of my most ardent courtship.” His eyes gleamed. “Even though I know I do not deserve her. She hasn’t decided if she will accept me yet.”
Dakarai bowed, kissed my other hand and released it, raising his head with a warm smile. “Such caution indicates that you are wise as well as gifted, Lady Makenna. Ah, Rake, before my aged mind forgets, Tam sends his regards.”
“He has returned from Aquas?”
“He has. His journey wasn’t entirely successful, but it was productive in several very unexpected ways.”
“I’ll have to get on your calendar for a dinner. I’d like to hear all about it. My apologies, Makenna. Tam is a cousin on my mother’s side.”
Dakarai smile widened into a grin. “Our kingdom breathed a sigh of relief when they were no longer on the same world. Apart, they are mere troublemakers. But together? I shudder to think of the possibilities.” The goblin glanced over my shoulder. “Though having Rake and Mago not only on the same world, but in the same hotel, tempts the gods of chaos more than is safe for any of us.”
“I have been here for mere hours, and already my reputation is being disparaged,” said an amused v
oice from directly behind me. “A man can’t keep any secrets.”
“Lady Makenna, allow me to present the newest elven ambassador, Mago Nuallan. Mago, this is Lady Makenna Fraser, the seer for SPI.”
My hand received its third kiss in nearly as many minutes. I could get used to this.
“Mago is from one of the Seven Kingdom’s most prominent families,” Rake told us.
“What he means is that we’re notorious,” the elf countered with a grin. “Lord Danescu missed his calling as a diplomat.”
“I prefer spy to diplomat. That way, I get to kill those who cross me. You have to negotiate with them.”
“Times are changing, Lord Danescu.”
Rake nodded. “The gloves are coming off for both of our governments, and I am glad of it. Decisive action is called for.”
Mago’s good humor vanished. “We consider ourselves at war on many fronts. Allies are found among former enemies,” he said, graciously inclining his head toward Rake. “And some of my people who we previously trusted now stand accused, convicted, and condemned. There are no rules, only survival. And now, it has become apparent that we no longer have a shared vision with the colonial government here for the future of the elves living on this world.”
“A divergence that likewise afflicts our own colony here,” Dakarai noted dryly.
Sounded like the local elf and goblin governors were in for a rude awakening.
The boss had assigned specialized SPI agents to monitor both meetings. Additional security would be out of sight, but not out of reach in case things got contentious. It’d been my experience that if Vivienne Sagadraco took those kinds of precautions, it wasn’t a matter of if they’d be needed, but when.
I wasn’t sure if it was appropriate, but I was curious. “How do the locals feel about the goblins and elves back home being each other’s new best friends?”
“The colonies are far enough removed from events in the Seven Kingdoms that these events have no effect on their day-to-day lives,” Dakarai said. “Many goblins and elves are second- and even third-generation colonists. They know the names of their respective monarchs, but the colonial governors are responsible for the people here.”
I couldn’t help myself; I made a face. “And when that governor is a corrupt, disgusting pervert?”
Mago laughed.
Dakarai smiled. “Ah, you must have met Governor Pivaine.”
“It wasn’t my idea, and now I want another shower, this time with bleach.”
“The lady is an exceptional judge of character,” Mago noted.
“Gremien Pivaine is but one of the many leftovers from his brother’s reign that Chigaru has yet to clear from his plate,” Dakarai said. “Pivaine plays along with whoever is in power at any given time.”
“He’s still slimy.”
“I’m not disputing your estimation. I agree wholeheartedly. If things go badly in the Seven Kingdoms, having Pivaine in charge would greatly complicate an already chaotic situation.” Dakarai smiled slowly. “But to use a phrase I heard during my last visit to your delightful world, we have many irons in the fire. That is one of the reasons I am here.”
“Dagara Jakome is with him tonight,” Rake told him.
The goblin ambassador’s smile vanished.
Mago raised an eyebrow. “I take it that’s not good?”
“No, it is not,” Dakarai said. “It means we may encounter even more trouble than we had anticipated.”
I felt a subtle change in the air around me, a shifting of energy.
My senses instantly went to high alert, along with a surge of adrenaline.
Logic told me I was being paranoid, but magic had nothing to do with logic.
I turned slowly and tried to be casual about scanning the room for the trouble I knew had arrived. “Rake, is it me or—”
“No, I feel it.” He casually glanced around the room.
“It feels like what Kitty described,” I said. “A light electrical charge.”
Like the time I’d plugged in a hair dryer with hands still wet from the shower. I didn’t get a major shock, but it was enough to make me yank my hand back. There was a reason for those humongous warning labels on hair dryers.
Rake and I had stood in the same place minutes after Kitty had and hadn’t felt a thing.
We felt it now.
It was happening again.
Rake quietly spat a word that perfectly summed up the situation.
I was wearing a communications earpiece on a channel connected to Ian, Rake, Roy, Sandra, and Gethen. If I saw anything that they couldn’t, I needed to be able to tell them. Fast.
I keyed my comms.
“I sense it as well, Agent Fraser,” Gethen said, before I could draw breath to speak.
The tall goblin security chief was back at his station by the main ballroom doors. He may have been wearing a tux, but that was as far as he went in trying to blend in. He wasn’t trying to look like anything other than what he was—a tough-as-nails goblin who was paid to be personally responsible for every man, woman, and being here. Right now he was coolly surveying the room, looking for the individual responsible for the malignant energy we all felt so he could personally kick their ass.
“Mago, are you armed?” Rake asked.
“Always.”
Rake subtly tilted his head toward Gethen. “That’s my security chief, Gethen Nazar, by the main doors. Take Dakarai and stay with him. Quickly.”
Chapter Twelve
In addition to pearls, I was wearing a gun, a paint pistol, extra ammo for both, and two Bowie knives.
I took accessorizing very seriously.
The lights dimmed ever so slightly.
The delegates closest to us glanced up and smiled, thinking it was yet another effect Rake had ordered for the enjoyment of his guests.
Other delegates weren’t smiling. These were supernatural and mythological beings. They knew magic. They lived with it every day. Some wouldn’t exist if it weren’t for magic. They knew something was wrong.
Then the bottom fell out of the temperature, and my breath came as a frosty plume.
To their credit, no one panicked—at least not outwardly. The delegates were either ambassadors to kings or queens, or the rulers themselves. They were the ones who stepped up and calmed people down. That didn’t mean they weren’t afraid. I saw it in their faces. No one wanted to be the first to scream and stampede. Let’s hear it for dignity.
We didn’t want to cause a panic, even if panic would be the best response to whatever was about to happen. Our people and Rake’s were moving to cover every part of the ballroom.
Rake took my hand. “Come with me.”
“No, I need to see if—”
“You’ll be able to see anything in the room where I’m going.”
Rake quickly led me to the bandstand by the ballroom doors and took the three stairs in a smooth leap, all but carrying me with him. We could see everyone—and everyone could see us. I didn’t like the attention, but every corner of the ballroom was clearly visible, and I could see out into the hotel lobby.
There weren’t any bukas coming out of the woodwork, but I wasn’t counting on it staying that way.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Rake said, his voice calm and carrying to every guest. “There appears to be a problem with the—”
“Space-time continuum,” Roy muttered into his comms.
Rake didn’t get the chance to say “air conditioning,” or whatever excuse he’d come up with to clear the ballroom.
The doors to the lobby were open, as were the two other ballroom exits. Rake and Gethen had wanted there to be plenty of ways out should there be a need. There was now a need. An electrical charge was building. Then I heard the locks on the hotel’s front doors click. I wasn’t an elf or a goblin, so I shouldn’t have been able to hear that. It was loud, as if the sound had been intentionally amplified.
The massive glass and wrought iron doors slowly opened out into the night.
By themselves.
Seconds later, as if a hurricane had swept down Nassau Street, they violently slammed shut.
In the stunned silence that followed, everyone heard the sharp snick as the doors locked.
Gethen was closest to the doors. He darted out into the lobby, Dakarai and Mago in his wake. Rake and I quickly followed. Everyone in the lobby was staring at the hotel’s front doors and windows. Beyond the glass should have been a nighttime Lower Manhattan street filled with the traffic and lights of a normal summer night in the city. The Financial District, also known as FiDi, used to be pretty dead after business hours. That had changed. People were now living, eating, and enjoying the nightlife here.
All of that was still going on outside the hotel, as if nothing had happened inside, but at a slower pace. Pedestrians, traffic, stoplights changing—all were still happening, but in slow motion as if time itself had been slowed and we were watching it through deep and murky water.
Some of the delegates had followed us into the lobby. Gethen, Rake, and a goblin doorman were trying to open the doors. Goblins and elves were stronger than humans, and while the hotel’s large double doors themselves were heavy, they were easy to open.
At least they should have been.
When muscle failed, Rake turned to magic, hitting the doors hard with the flat of both hands. I’d seen him use the same spell on Bacchanalia’s back door. That door had been steel, and it had been obliterated as if it had never existed. The Regor Regency’s doors were twin ten-foot sandwiches of glass containing artfully twisted iron.
Rake’s magic didn’t even scratch them.
For the duration of the summit, the outside world was being kept out of the Regor Regency.
And now, someone possessing magic stronger than two goblin dark mages had locked us in.
Reports were coming in from all over the hotel of the same phenomenon happening on every external door and window.
The hotel’s landlines were down, cell signals weren’t getting through, the Internet was nonexistent, and the hotel’s satellite TV was kaput.
