“Micah and I have to step out for a moment, but please go ahead without us,” I said to the room as I sidled out again. As soon as I reached Micah, he turned on his heel and followed me. Behind us, footsteps sounded and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. Having the powerful beings at my back wasn’t at all comfortable. Several paces later, the door closed behind Hunter and his entourage, and I regained my composure.
“What are we stepping out for?” asked Micah.
“Just wanted to check on Matthew Donovan,” I told him. It was the first thing I could think of when I clawed my brain for something to help Micah save face. If he suspected that was my reason, he didn’t say so. He was probably embarrassed, I decided, which was rare for a demon. “Étoile will probably want to know his progress,” I continued as we approached the reception desk.
I used the receptionist’s telephone. She connected us to the room and busied herself on her computer while I spoke to Donovan’s wife. She assured me he was fine and thanked me for taking the time to call. Hanging up, I turned to Micah, and stepped backwards, nearly colliding with him where he stood, with his arms folded, a pace away.
“He’s great. Let’s go back,” I said brightly.
“Hmm.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“O-kaay. Let’s go back.”
“They are expecting you, just as I thought.” He stared down at me.
“Are you sure about that?”
“Oh yes. They were displeased when you told them to go ahead.”
“You got all that from the staring?” I asked, but Micah didn’t answer.
Two demons were parked outside the door and, after a sideways glance, they ignored us as we walked inside. All conversation stopped when we entered the room. I offered a weak smile, sliding past the sofa where Hunter sat beside another demon of equal size and stature, to take my seat. Micah took up a position behind me. The fourth demon from Hunter’s party stood behind the sofa. For a few long seconds, the room was unbearably quiet.
“You were saying…” Hunter prompted.
“Thank you.” They continued their previous debate while I stared at the back of Hunter’s head, wondering about his relationship with his son. “I wanted to say how pleased I was to see the demons at the ball. Are you enjoying yourselves?”
“As much as anyone can at a Summit,” Hunter replied, with the tone of someone who was not enjoying themselves at all.
“Indeed.”
“I met with your friend last night.” Hunter glanced at me, then to Micah. “You seem to be acquainted with my son, Evan, too.”
“Yes. We admire Evan very much.”
Hunter nodded, as if he expected nothing less. “I was surprised to find my son taking such an interest in witches. I hope he has represented our race satisfactorily.”
“The best in every possible regard,” Étoile said. “But of course, you aren’t here to discuss your son. Shall we confer over our future plans to work together if I am elected Leader?”
“Go on.”
“Ugh,” said Étoile when David closed the door behind the demons forty long minutes later. “Could that have gone any worse?”
“It didn’t seem so bad,” said David.
“They didn’t hate you,” said Seren. “The demon next to Hunter thought you appeared more interesting than Mary. The thought slipped out while he was looking at your legs otherwise I wouldn’t have caught it.”
“They didn’t say no to your proposals.” I thought about it some more. “They didn’t say yes either.”
“No one died,” said Micah, grinning at his own joke.
“True.” Étoile brightened. “Let’s go to lunch.”
“God, yes,” Seren sighed, taking the hand her husband held out to her. “I’m famished.”
“Did you learn anything significant from the demons?” Étoile asked her as she picked up the folder, flicking through it before tossing it back onto the table.
“Not a thing, sister. They were most careful.”
“You, Micah?”
“I’m not privy to their decisions.”
“I know. I hoped for your opinion on them. As one demon to another.”
“Hunter is devious,” he said. “He didn’t gain so much power without being so. But if he didn’t respect you, he would tell you.”
“Interesting. So, lunch?” Étoile swept out of the room and we followed in her wake, David secured the door behind us, then followed with Seren.
Micah offered me his arm in an uncharacteristically friendly gesture. I wanted to ask him more about the demons’ disposition, and did he feel awkward about being there, but I was good and tired of him not telling me anything. Beyond Hunter’s comment to me about Evan, they didn’t seem all that interested in me, which was a relief. Instead, I wallowed in my own thoughts as we made our way to the restaurant. We found Laura and Byron already seated, with Anders and Astra rapt in conversation. Daniel gave us a relieved look as we took our seats.
“Been waiting long?” I asked.
He darted a look at Anders and Astra. “Forever. Anders has been stuck in meetings all morning so I’ve been in the library reading up.”
“Anything interesting?”
“Great herbology section. Look, that’s not the point. I saw Georgia and she said to remind Anders of his duties. That, and other stuff. Anders is meeting her later, and he said not to come.”
“I’m sure it will be okay. Don’t worry.”
“Back at you.”
“Huh?” I held my breath, waiting for him to pick an issue, any issue.
“You look tired,” he said instead. “Don’t get a lot of sleep at these things, huh? Perhaps this will help?” He reached under the table and produced a small gift bag. “Did you guess yet?”
“I think so.” I opened it, peeked inside at the colourful wrappers amidst the cream tissue paper, and looked back up smiling. “All my favourite chocolate!”
“I said I would bring you some.” He grinned.
I leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Thank you. Come on, tell me what you’ve been doing since I last saw you.”
“We speak on the phone.”
“Tell me again, Daniel.” Surrounded by the happily chatting Winterstorm family, I zoned them out and listened to my cousin, which was nice. I had a family member now too, and it gave me a warm, fuzzy feeling to know it. I listened while he told me about Anders doing the formal thing and meeting the candidates while he tried to avoid it as much as possible, until he got to the part about Georgia.
“She cornered you in the corridor?” I cringed as he described the short meeting that set him on edge.
“She asked me if murder ran in every branch of the family,” he said softly.
“Oh Daniel, I’m sorry.” I gave his hand a squeeze as the waiters served the soup. “You have to ignore her. She’s just trying to get under your skin. That’s what she does.”
“I don’t want her to take it out on you.”
“Don’t worry about me. Besides, she already had her fun with me at the trial.”
“Do you think that’s the end of it?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.” I darted a look at Étoile. As if on cue, behind her, Georgia glided threw the open doorway. She paused and looked around, waiting long enough for the chatter of the restaurant to die down for her presence to be noticed.
“She knows how to make an entrance.”
“Unfortunately, she doesn’t know when to make an exit.” I smiled and Daniel laughed, the noise dying on his lips as Georgia’s eyes swept over us. She turned and picked her way past a couple of tables, pausing by Étoile.
“Still trying?” she said, her brayish laugh echoing as she looked down at Étoile.
“I could say the same about you,” replied Étoile pleasantly.
“You could always bow out gracefully.”
“Not going to happen, Georgia.”
“Perhaps you’ll take some advice. You and your merry
little band—” Georgia waved her hand at our table, “—of witch hunters, murderers, psychopaths and demons are an embarrassment. Spare your family the ultimate humiliation and go home.”
Next to me, Daniel took a sharp breath and the silence hung heavily as we waited for Étoile.
“Wonderful advice as always, Georgia. Might I ask why you care so much? After all, you seem to think you’re going to win.”
“Oh, I know I’ll win. I just didn’t plan on you providing the entertainment until the votes are taken. Well, great to talk as always. Enjoy your soup. It looks delicious.” Without waiting for Étoile’s response, Georgia glided away, taking her time to work the room as she moved between the tables. She chose her seat at a table on the far side.
“Ignore her,” said Seren, laying her hand over her sister’s. “You know how she likes to mess with people.”
“She zoomed away before I could mention her necromancy, or the strangely well timed shootings of Donovan and me. I would have liked to see her face!”
“All in good time, darling,” murmured Byron.
“Indeed. Don’t let your food get cold, people. We need all our energy.”
Picking up my spoon, I gave Étoile what I intended to be a reassuring look and that’s when it hit me. I felt my eyes glaze and my hand tremble. The sound of the spoon dropping made a faint “clunk.” I’d only ever had a handful of visions and no idea what triggered them, but at least I could recognise them for what they were now. Usually, they were confusing and vague, but this one was clear: Étoile lay on the floor, her eyelids fluttering as her body shook violently, then stilled. Her fingers clutched the white tablecloth and debris was strewn around her.
The vision stopped as abruptly as it started. For the next few seconds, all I could do was blink at the table while I mentally arranged the vision into logical order. It seemed to have taken place in the very near future and I saw myself seated at this very table. There was something in her food. Something that shouldn’t be there. Something harmful.
Étoile. I threw the thought towards her, and anxiously waited for the flicker of her eyelids, telling me she caught it. Telepathy was her thing, not mine; and I had to concentrate on removing the mind techniques I employed to keep my thoughts my own, just long enough to allow her to export her thoughts to me.
Yes?
Don’t eat the soup, I warned. Don’t make a fuss, just… don’t eat it, okay?
The soup spoon hovered near her mouth, before she carefully placed it back in the bowl and leaned over to say something to her mother. To anyone else, it would appear Étoile was more interested in the conversation then the soup.
What’s wrong?
I’m not sure. I think… poison.
Only mine?
Yes, I think so. I had a vision.
See what you can find out, Étoile instructed as she nodded at something her mother was saying.
I scanned the area. Our waiter was finished with our table and had moved onto the neighbouring one, topping up everyone’s water with a glass carafe. He would have had access. So would the chefs, although it would be nearly impossible to contaminate only one bowl of soup without being in collusion with whoever served it. Of course, that didn’t eliminate tampering of the magical kind, though it would have been hard to go unnoticed in a room teeming with witches. Somehow, the simple transfer of poison vial to dish seemed like the easiest move. Unfortunately, it didn’t narrow down any suspects.
It would have been easier if I were a properly trained psychic, so I could poke around in some minds; but instead, I had to rely on my observations and magic. Perhaps I could pick up a signature or something attached to the poison that would show me the culprit. I picked up my glass and sipped, sending my magic out. If anyone noticed the mark of my magic as it streaked past them, no one at the table said anything, though I noticed Seren looked up and frowned, then Astra did too. They seemed to pause before returning to their conversations, and I wondered if Étoile was transmitting something to them. Before I could proceed further than simply ascertaining that probably no one else’s dishes at our table were affected, something crashed behind me. As I turned around, I saw Esme Sanchez slump to the floor, her mouth foaming. Her hand, clasping the tablecloth, pulled the crockery after her, smashing it to the ground. Then both her hands flew to her neck, clawing desperately at her throat.
Stunned silence made way for alarm as the people at her table pushed back their chairs and rushed to her aid. A healer was shouted for. The group closed around her and she was lost to our view as silence overtook the restaurant.
Like the other patrons, our table froze in a tableau of shocked disbelief.
“Wait here,” Étoile instructed. She was two steps away from the table when a wail emerged from the crowd. It was a long, painful sound that pierced the quiet murmurs of confusion.
“No, no, no,” someone sobbed. The crowd parted to reveal a woman kneeling over Esme’s still body. Her hands gripped Esme’s shoulders and she gave her a pitiful shake before keeling over and wailing.
“Is she…?” Laura started.
Étoile turned back to us, her mouth dropping open. “She’s dead.”
“She’s been poisoned,” someone shouted, the word rippling through the crowd. Étoile flashed a look at me, then to her place setting, but I couldn’t tell if she were frightened, relieved or just concerned. Perhaps all three.
Shouting broke out as the gathering began to disperse in panic. Two parties made for the exit, and several other tables remained seated, waiting to see what would happen next. I glanced around. In the corner of the room, the shifters waited silently. I continued searching until I found Gage. He mouthed something at me, but I could only shrug and shake my head before he turned to speak to Noah and Caroline, their faces contorted in tight grimaces.
A chill spread through the room as the pro tem Council members appeared, quickly establishing control. Within ten minutes, Esme’s body was gone, her fractured party following behind. Two women were crying and holding each other, while the men and another woman just looked pale and stricken.
Steven approached us.
“What’s going on?” Étoile asked him as David fetched the older man a chair, stopping when Steven told him it wasn’t necessary.
“Sabotage,” said Steven, his voice grave. “We believe a fast-acting poison was involved.”
Étoile leaned in and said something, to which Steven nodded, waving a waiter over. They carried on a hushed conversation, which we all strained to hear to no avail; then Étoile’s soup bowl was cleared. Another pair of waiters appeared to remove the rest of our dishes.
“The judiciary will conduct an investigation. I recommend you all return to your rooms until further notice.”
“Are we in danger?” asked Laura. “I don’t understand what’s going on.”
“I’m sure everyone will be fine,” Steven assured her.
“But Esme was another candidate,” Daniel chipped in.
Steven nodded. “Yes, and in light of recent events, this would appear to be another specifically chosen victim.”
“We’ll go,” said Étoile. “Let me know what happens.” She rose. Across the room Georgia also stood and a deafening silence flooded the room once again. I saw a waiter quietly remove her dish and walk away. Worried glances were exchanged by the remaining patrons. Though I couldn’t hear what they were saying, I got the gist of their accusations. Then Georgia began to move towards us, her party scurrying to catch up. Instead of speaking, Georgia narrowed her eyes at Étoile and strode past haughtily.
We gave them thirty seconds to clear before following in their direction, all thoughts of food forgotten. As I passed through the doorway, a hand caught my sleeve. I jumped and turned. Shazia Halpern gave me a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
“Do you have a moment?” she asked. “I know it’s bad timing.”
I darted a glance at Micah. “Sure.”
Shazia drew me to one side. “Yesterday, you ask
ed me about a talisman,” she said softly as we moved into the corner of the reception area. Micah hovered close by, his arms folded across his chest. “I was approached yesterday evening, after the ball, about authenticating an item.” She fell silent as a couple exited the restaurant and waited until they moved away.
“Did you see it?”
“Not exactly. I was shown a photograph. It matched the description you gave me.”
“Who showed you the photo? Was it the current owner?”
“No. It was one of the wolves. The youngest man in their party. His name is Drew Freeman, I think. He wanted to know if it was the real deal. I couldn’t be certain, but from what I could tell, it looked authentic.”
“Did he say where he got the picture? It could be an old one,” I pointed out.
“That’s what I thought, but whoever took the photo put a newspaper in it. It was dated last week. It could still be a forgery, but I’m guessing someone wants to prove they have it and a dated newspaper is more believable than a date stamp, which could be digitally altered. Anyway, it looked genuine to me.”
“So what happens now?”
“I’m going to meet with them soon to authenticate it. I guess if the wolves are planning a purchase, they don’t want a fake. I’m quite excited about it actually. I made some enquiries and this particular artefact hasn’t been seen in centuries though I’ve seen other work reputedly made by this witch.”
“What about its properties?”
“Well, I guess I’ll get the chance to find out if it’s for real or just a legend. Personally, I’m hoping it’s a legend, just a love story, otherwise… Well, I assume you know what it’s reported to be?” She trailed off and I nodded as we pondered the idea of a werewolf owning an artefact that could harm witches as well as protect from their magic. “I guess I’ll have to tell someone, but as far as I know, the Council has no interest in it. Just you.”
Magic Rising (#4 Stella Mayweather Paranormal Series) Page 20
