“The tux suits you. Very handsome.”
“Thank you.”
“So what is your official title now?”
“East Coast Packmaster. I get to do all the fun stuff like liaise and schmooze with the other regions, as well as keep my own region in order. You might be seeing some new wolves in the area.”
“Michelle must be proud.”
“She was.”
“Past tense?”
“We parted ways.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said, surprised. It had been little more than a week since I’d seen them together at Annalise and Beau’s housewarming.
Gage shrugged. “It wasn’t going anywhere.”
“How come? She seemed so nice.” She was nice, awfully pretty too. I’d had more than one jealous moment over her before reprimanding myself, since I had no right to feel that way.
“Don’t ask if you don’t want to hear the answer.”
I inhaled deeply and looked away.
“I didn’t mean to be rude,” Gage continued in a gentler voice. “I just… just don’t ask, okay?”
“Okay.”
We stood silently for a while, enjoying the dusk and the sounds of music that drifted out to us: the tinkle of laughter, and multiple conversations. The air turned cooler and I asked Gage if he wanted his jacket.
“You know we wolves run warm,” he told me, refusing my offer.
“What events are you going to?” I asked him, steering the conversation back to safer grounds. “Or is it just the election?”
“The election is the only important one left now. Other than that, we’ll be paying visits to all the nominees, including Étoile.”
“Étoile mentioned that, but she didn’t say why. She’s been so busy.”
“There used to be a time when all the races worked independently of each other. You can imagine the problems that caused, especially if another race trespassed on our turf, and vice versa. Then we got organised and started to unionise, if you like. We’ve worked together loosely for a few decades now, but now we need to make our integration more complete.” Gage paused, glanced at me, smiled, returning his gaze to the city. “We’re going to talk treaties and professional courtesy, among other things with the candidates.”
“Sounds practical.”
“Maybe. Depends on what each race wants, what the candidates have planned, and what we can acquiesce to. We’ve heard rumours that a High Council is in the offing.”
I processed that. “Like a governing body? For all of us?”
Gage nodded.
“I’m not sure we can govern ourselves,” I said frankly. “Never mind anyone else.”
“The plan is for each race to send its nominee to the High Council, whose rule will preside over us all. Secrets get leaked too easily. The only way we can survive is if we work together.”
“Against or in spite of humans?”
“Neither. Just away from, or when the time comes, in aid of. Like…”
“The UN on steroids?” I supplied helpfully.
Gage grinned and shook his head. “More like a lobbying group.”
“Is all this stuff common knowledge?” I asked.
“No. I’m telling you because you’re my friend,” Gage said simply. “And because whether you like it or not, you’re involved. Do you know that your position in our world is very clear?”
I recalled Hunter’s comments about the way the other demons had reacted to me with mild curiosity. “Tell me,” I said, intrigued to see how a non-witch viewed me.
“Étoile has made it very clear that you’re a part of her entourage,” Gage began. “You’re a friend of my pack and that gives you status. Your lover is a daemon, and I’ll bet that he is keeping you safe somehow.”
“There’s a registry,” I told him, keeping the part about the ring to myself. “Evan says it’s a master list of those who are protected. I’m on it.”
Gage gave me “there you have it” raised eyebrows. He continued, “Any one of these honours, is not so interesting by itself, but add all three and you’ve got someone who becomes fascinating to the other races. Then there’s the witch hunters, and Eleanor, and how she died. Did it occur to you that you brought down the Council that day? And you, just a brand new witch without fully evolved powers at the time. At least that’s what I heard and what you’ve confirmed. To some extent, all this is because of you and they—” he jabbed a finger to the ballroom, “—want to know what makes you so appealing.” This time, when Gage pushed himself off the balcony wall and straightened up, he faced me. “Evan is right to have Micah guard you and I’ll bet the only reason Micah isn’t glued to you right now, is because he knows you’re safe with me. Étoile may have been targeted, but don’t assume that you might not be also.”
“I think I need another drink.”
Gage laughed. “Yeah. All this will do that to you. Listen, it’s getting cold up here, even for me. I need to catch up to my party, and Micah’s probably had enough waiting for you. Yeah, I saw him already. Shall we head inside?”
“Sure.”
A pair of laughing witches, a man and a woman, spilled through the terrace doors a moment later, apologising profusely for almost colliding with us. I handed Gage’s jacket back to him as we re-entered. After he shrugged it on and left, offering me a brilliant smile and friendly wave, I realised I’d forgotten all about the talisman and hadn’t told him what I’d found out.
TWELVE
I caught up with Étoile at the cloakroom an hour after Gage’s and my discussion. Both he and Hunter, along with Étoile’s nomination, had given me a lot to think about. Who or what wanted to sabotage the Summit so badly? Once again, I felt like I was swimming underwater, the life-raft too far away for me to reach.
Micah was still at my side, as he had been the moment I stepped inside from the terrace. Since then, I hadn’t caught sight of Gage. Micah was frustrating me by giving me one-word answers. I wasn’t sure how to apologise, only I knew that I should. It seemed I’d hurt his feelings earlier. That said, he’d probably give me the same reaction if I’d literally bitten his ear off. It was hard to tell what made a demon cross or the depths of their annoyance.
“It’s late,” said Étoile. “Let’s head down to the lobby and shimmer from there.”
Magic still hung in the air. I could feel it. The ballroom tonight was a neutral zone, something I assumed must have been agreed upon in advance. For one thing, I thought it was a good idea. Otherwise, who knew what would happen if the witches used their magic? Or if the wolves and shapeshifters switched shapes, the demons went crazy, and the vampires… the vampires would probably enjoy a healthy snack. Second, I had to assume that if the races could all agree on something, perhaps there was some hope for a permanent union.
I looked at the long line already forming by the coat check. “I’ll grab my coat.” Micah bumped my arm. “Apparently, I have my coat,” I said, taking it from him. I noticed he had already pulled on a knee-length coat in black wool. “Did you queue already?”
“No. I just walked in and took it,” Micah replied without an ounce of sarcasm. I didn’t doubt him.
“Okay then. I’m good to go.”
We shared the elevator with a warlock, a vampire, and two shifters, though I couldn’t tell their species of choice or design. Micah and I stood side-by-side, me, feeling awkward; him… I chanced a glance. He looked bored. Typical. At the back, Étoile was speaking quietly to a man, whom she seemed to know, though I hadn’t taken a good look at him as I was scrabbling in my purse for my phone — blank screen again — as we entered. When we spilled out, Micah and I exited first, standing to one side, allowing the others to pass while we waited for Étoile. The man smiled pleasantly at me, nodded to Micah, and stepped past us.
A split second later, Micah had me on the floor, his body curled over mine. “What the hell?” I growled through clenched teeth as he pressed down on me.
“Stay down,” he hissed, holding me in pl
ace while he moved in a half twist. Nearby, someone was groaning, and I could hear heavy footsteps running towards us.
“Étoile?” I raised my voice in panic. “Étoile?”
“Here,” came her weary voice. “I’m fine. You?”
“Fine. Micah, get off me.” I gave him a gentle shove. “What happened?”
Micah moved and I pushed upwards into a seated position as I unwrapped the skirt from my ankles. The warlock Étoile was speaking to now lay on his back, one hand clutched to his side, his fingers red. He gasped for breath, his face pale. Étoile crouched next to him and was stemming the flow of blood by pressing the heel of her hand over the wound. After a moment, I wondered why she didn’t heal him there and then. I decided it was because there were too many humans present with the downstairs lobby open to all. Several businesses, including a restaurant and a bar were still open. Only the floors above the tenth were sealed off for our use. The security guards, and some onlookers, all appeared human. Someone called for first aid. Maybe an ambulance. The vampire disappeared, but the shapeshifters remained. I saw one of them sniff the air and look around.
Micah refused to budge and I had to crane my head around him as he slowly surveyed the room. “Is he okay?” I asked. “Is that Matthew Donovan?” I finally took a good look at the warlock.
“Yes. It’s nothing.” As Étoile spoke the words, I felt the force of her Influence drift through the lobby. The magic was thick and strong. As it reached the bystanders, they blinked and seemed to look at their hands or each other and wonder what they were doing. After a minute or two, they all drifted away.
“Help me get him to the elevator,” said Étoile.
“Shouldn’t we call an ambulance, miss?” asked one of the security guards crouched beside her. I’d been mistaken. He was a shapeshifter too, and seemed impervious to her magic. It stood to reason that the Council had supernaturals in their employ downstairs, as well as on the reserved floors above. His colleague, however, was human, though a strong-minded one.
“It’s nothing,” said Étoile again, placing her non-bloodied hand on his colleague as he kneeled to assist her. His eyes glazed. “Just a nasty fall. We’ll head back upstairs, out of the way. You don’t need to worry about a thing.”
“Uh, yes… miss,” he stammered. The confusion on his face dissipated as he got to his feet. “I think I’ll get a ‘wet floor’ sign,” he said to no one in particular before strolling away.
Étoile nodded to the shapeshifter guard and he returned the gesture as he adjusted his tie. “You sure you’re good to go?” he asked, placing one hand against the recess of the elevator doors, ensuring they remained open.
“Yes. I’ll heal him upstairs,” said Étoile. One of the shapeshifters stooped to help her get the warlock to his feet, and the few of us returned to the elevator. “You don’t need to stay, but thanks for your help. Could you wait with the guard?” Étoile told the shifters and they stepped out, relieved expressions on their faces as they moved to their kin. “Hit ten, Stella. We’ll find somewhere for him to lie down. I don’t think it’s too deep.” Beside her, Matthew groaned as he rolled his eyes. When the doors shut, Étoile placed her hands on him.
“Did you see them, Micah?” I asked.
He shook his head. “I felt something right before the shot. An intention. I shoved them and got you.”
Donovan rested bodily against the frame of the elevator, his pallor taking on the pale grey look Étoile had when she was injured. Despite his brave face, he lost a lot of blood, and his suit was covered in it. How he remained conscious, I didn’t know, but I suspected it was through pure force of will. “You have my thanks. You probably saved us. All of us,” he added, his eyes moving from Micah to me.
Micah shrugged.
Due to all the events that happened, I immediately leaped to the conclusion that either Étoile or I were being targeted; but now, with Matthew’s injury, it all seemed unclear, which was most unsettling. I slid my hand into Micah’s, giving his a quick squeeze. “Thanks,” I whispered.
“I don’t dare think what Evan might do to me if you were hurt on my watch,” he murmured.
“All the same,” I replied, “if anyone else gets shot, I’m going home.”
The corners of his mouth twitched. “You really are no fun.”
“I’m a whole bunch of fun,” I argued. “Every time I see you, there’s trouble. One of these days, I’ll probably have to save your ass.”
“I doubt that.”
The tenth floor, like all the floors above, was strictly off limits to the humans who occupied the floors below, and the elevator opened onto a lobby with its own reception desk. Étoile approached, speaking hurriedly to the receptionist as we hung back. She returned with a key. Micah and I trailed behind the others as they limped forwards. In the room, Étoile examined the wound again. It had sliced right through his side, thankfully, not hitting anything serious, which probably explained why he remained conscious. It had already begun to heal from Étoile’s ministrations in the elevator. Just like Étoile appeared sick and wan after her gunshot, so did this man.
“We should alert the Council,” he said, easing onto the bed.
“Already done. Someone will be here momentarily,” Étoile told him. “I’ve asked them to locate your wife too.”
“First you, then me,” he said, raising his eyebrows. “This doesn’t look good. The candidates… Are we all in danger?”
After a moment, Étoile agreed. Laying her hands on him, she casually spoke to him until he slumped into unconsciousness in her hands. She deposited the bloody bullet on the nightstand and reexamined the wound, apparently satisfied it was properly closed.
The Council moved swiftly and directly with their investigation, questioning everyone and enquiring as to what new security measures they needed to take downstairs. If Étoile’s prompt action in containing the scene surprised them, they didn’t say. They asked each of us if we saw the attacker. For me, it was a no, and the same for Micah too. It happened too quickly. I assumed it must have been the same for everyone else.
“We’re in lockdown,” said Lisette Randolph finally. Upon her arrival, her assistant in tow, she immediately took charge of the investigation as the most senior Council member present. With one look at me, she murmured, “Wherever there’s trouble” with a shake of her head and proceeded to organise everyone. “We can’t risk any more candidates being hurt while the election is in progress. We’ll arrange for rooms for all of you, your families and other members of your party here.”
“I already took a room on the twelfth floor,” said Donovan. He was still very pale, but now sat propped against a heap of pillows. “My family are up there.”
“We can move them to this one. The adjoining is free, I believe, if you’d rather not move,” said Lisette, sympathetically. I noted her ballgown was very pretty, a direct contrast to the drab, sombre suits she wore during the trial. Her hair was swept upwards in a braid and fastened to her head with jewelled pins.
“My family have a suite on the same floor, but Stella, Micah and I will need rooms,” said Étoile, standing up to face Lisette.
“We will arrange it.”
“And our things?”
“We can send someone to collect them from your apartment.”
“I would rather collect them myself,” Étoile countered.
“That will not be possible. Please remain here for your own safety. Your…” Lisette looked at Micah, struggling, it seemed, with what to call him. “Your friend may collect your things and return.”
“Perhaps the magic could be relaxed slightly so I might summon our things,” Étoile countered, determined to have her way.
Lisette and her assistant glanced at each other. “We could arrange that,” Lisette agreed finally. “If you would please wait here, we’ll send someone for you shortly.”
“Thank you.” Étoile turned to Matthew. “How’s the arm?”
“It’s good. Thank you. That was some sm
art thinking,” he told her. “I could have been killed. Anyone of us could have been killed.” He relaxed against the pillows. “Who would want to shoot you and me, Étoile?”
The question hung in the room like a bad smell and the longer we pondered it, the worse it seemed to get. I could only think of one person who wanted to get rid of the competition, but would Georgia really stoop so low as to assassinate two rivals? It was an uncomfortable thought and one I didn’t want to answer; although the little voice in my head gave it a resounding, “Yes!”
When the telephone on the nightstand rang, I wasn’t the only one who jumped. Étoile answered it just as there was a rap at the door. When I made to open it, Micah held me back and answered the door instead. He looked surprised when silence greeted him. Then there was a bustle of noise, and a slim woman in her forties pushed past him, charging for the bed and throwing her arms around Matthew.
“I’m Paige, Matthew’s wife. Darling, are you okay?” she asked, her eyes frantically checking him over. “I came as soon as they found me. Who could do such a thing to you?”
Étoile replaced the handset and moved toward us, beckoning us to follow. With a last glance at Matthew, his arms now wrapped around the woman recently introduced as his wife, I followed her outside, Micah on my heels.
“We have been assigned rooms on the floor above this one,” Étoile told us. “They put you two in adjoining rooms. Don’t get too excited. I have a room down the hall from you. I would have gotten us rooms together, but there were very few left. You can get your key cards at the reception desk over there.” She pointed to the desk we passed on our way to the room. “And we’re on lockdown now. Everywhere below this floor has been sealed off and no one is being allowed in or out. They’re going to recall anyone important who might be the next target and isn’t already at the hotel,” she finished.
“Do the wolves know?” I asked her, thinking about Gage’s position. Would he be a target?
“I should think they will know very soon. I’m told they already booked rooms, so they’re probably all in the building. I’m not sure what arrangements the shapeshifter, vampire and demon delegations made. Most of them are staying here already, out of convenience.”
Magic Rising (#4 Stella Mayweather Paranormal Series) Page 17
