"Okay."
"Okay you approve of my answer or okay we're packin' for Fort Dixon?"
"Fort Dixon, but that's all of us. Blackie too. And we need an apartment big enough for the four of us."
"Thank Paddy. I'm goin' to get a good night's sleep for a change."
She hadn't realized just how much stress the fear of assassination had caused Ram until she saw his facial muscles relax. Yeah. It was a good plan. A good choice, everything considered.
"And, let's outline what would have to happen to make it possible for us to come back here and proceed to live life the way it should be lived. By ourselves. Speaking of which, I'm also not giving up the pleasure of a weekend at the cottage - just us - forever."
"Certainly. I'm no' unreasonable."
She smiled at him lovingly and indulgently. "Of course not. You're my hero."
Glen was giving Blackie a goodbye rough and tumble.
"Not in my living room," Elora said on her way past with her arms full of stuff the baby might need on the plane. She set the load down by the front door, looked around nervously, and pulled Glen aside looking like a woman with conspiracy on her mind. She spoke in a tone that was barely above a whisper. "I need you to do something for me on the down low."
"The down low?"
"Um. Yes. What do they call it here when you're off the record?"
"Off the record."
Elora let out a breath. "Okay. Off the record..."
"Which record are we off?"
"Let's start over. Between you and me..."
"Okay."
"Glen. Shut up." He chuckled. "You're messing with me, aren't you?" He grinned.
"Enough. Limited time here." He nodded.
"I need you to find out everything you can about the elf/fae war."
"Why?"
"Great Paddy, Glen."
"Okay. What exactly are you after?"
"How it started. See if you can find a reliable source - either a primary reference or an authority who knows for sure."
"You got it, boss."
"What has he got?" Ram came in carrying another load of stuff the baby might need on the plane, wearing his damn extra-sensitive elf ears.
"Just getting Glen to keep an eye on my puppies. Like we talked about."
Ram nodded, opened the front door, and started carrying Helm's busload of necessities to the Range Rover.
"Scary," Glen whispered to Elora.
"What?"
"How easily you lied to him and how genuine it sounded."
"Yeah, well, keep that in mind if you ever get married."
"I'm starting to recognize the appeal of bachelorhood."
Elora pinned him with a look. "Seriously, I would never lie to him if it wasn't to protect someone."
"You're protecting somebody?"
"Yes. I'm protecting them. I'm protecting him. And I'm protecting them from him."
"I'll find out what you want to know."
Elora gave him her high beam smile. "You're the best."
"Is payment involved?"
"Yes. Here it is." She kissed him on the cheek just as Ram came back through the front door.
"Catch! Stop cruisin' my wife and help me move the entire inventory of Babes R Us to the armored tank."
Prince Duff Torquil's family was having a small reception to celebrate his mid-winter graduation from law school from The University of Strathclyde at Glasgow. There was a tradition among the fae monarchy that those who were likely to rule should study history, with an emphasis on Fae history, and go on to law school, the logic being that the law was best administered by those who knew and understood it. The royal family, currently in residence at Holyrood Palace in Edinburgh, considered eight hundred guests a small reception. At that, there were sure to be at least two thousand more who would be in a snit and consider their lack of an invitation a snub.
When Elora received her invitation, she had written to the prince and explained that she and her husband had taken temporary quarters in the States. She added that she hoped it would not be presumptuous of her to ask that her good friend, Istvan Baka, and his bride, both employed by the same organization, take their place. Of course she knew it was presumptuous. After all, she had a background in the gentility of social arts, but she hoped he would grasp the code of her next sentence, which was this:
"You are certain to enjoy Baka's company and that of his new bride, who is popular among the entry level associates where she works. I'm certain you would make a loyal ally for life should you be kind enough to offer an extra invitation for her to bring a friend."
On the off chance that people were smarter than they appeared to be, Duff reread the note twice before tossing it on the glowing embers of the fireplace in his north wing office. He stabbed at the coals with the poker until the paper caught. After watching it burn to ash, he opened the door and stepped out to speak to his secretary. No matter how many times it occurred, the man always appeared startled when the prince leaned out and spoke to him. It seemed the palace staff would never get used to Duff's inappropriately modern and decidedly boorish behavior.
At first it had annoyed Duff that Grieve jumped in his chair whenever Duff opened the door to the outer offices and spoke to him. Grieve had been appointed by his father without giving the prince any say in the matter. Whatsoever. As usual. But eventually he came to terms with the fact that there was an odd little bespectacled man sitting just outside the entrance to his suite of rooms. He managed this internal resolution largely by appreciating the humor of the thing.
Grieve's display of shock had become part of Duff's day to day reality and one that he'd come to look forward to. In fact, he imagined that, should Grieve develop nerves of steel, he, Duff Torquil, Prince of the Scotia Fae and heir to the throne, would be forced to devise ways to deliberately create surprises, simply for the pleasure of seeing Grieve jump, gasp, and clutch his chest.
With that thought, Duff lowered his chin into his chest and chuckled while Grieve got himself together.
"Grieve," Duff repeated.
"Aye, your highness."
"Please send an additional reception invitation to an Istvan Baka at the Black Swan Charitable Corporation offices, Charlotte Square."
"But, sir, there are no odd invitations left to offer."
"Are you goin'?"
Grieve pushed his glasses higher on his nose. "Oh, aye. My presence is expected."
"Do you want to go?"
Grieve hesitated, mouth open, while trying to decide whether it would be in his interest to speak plainly or not. "I, ah..."
"The truth, man."
"No' particularly."
"There you have it then. Problem solved." Duff ducked his head back into his rooms and began to close the door.
"But, sir, your father..."
The prince opened the door and reappeared, but without his customary affable and approachable expression. He was clearly not pleased and might even have been scowling, although it could be hard to tell on such a beautifully smooth and youthful face.
"Who do you work for, Grieve?"
"You, sir?"
"Is that a question or an answer?"
"An answer, sir?"
"Hmmm. Well. I understand that my father hired you."
"Aye, sir."
"But he is no' in a position to oversee the minutia of my affairs every day. Do you no' agree?"
Grieve nodded. "Aye, sir?"
"Well, then it seems you must make a choice. Is your loyalty to the one who appointed you or to the one whom you serve?"
Grieve paused for only a moment before standing and pulling his shoulders back. "My loyalty is to you, sir. You can rely on me."
Truly, Duff was half joking and had not expected the equivalent of a chivalric vow of service, but seeing that the little man was serious, the prince was touched and decided not to dismiss it as a jest.
"Thank you, Grieve. I will treasure your declaration and count on it, from this day forward."
&
nbsp; Looking like he had just experienced the best moment of his life, Grieve smiled like he'd just been knighted.
Duff withdrew and closed the door, but stowed away in his heart the knowledge that allies could be made from something so small as a little respect and recognition.
Baka would have loved to skip the prince's reception, but Elora had asked him to go and take Aelsong. So he was standing in front of the bathroom mirror in a blindingly white pleated shirt, trying to tie his black tie. He was just glad his tux came with pants instead of the kilt that most of the male guests would be wearing beneath their formal jackets.
Fresh from the bath, Heaven came up behind him with a towel wrapped around her. She pressed into his back and rose to her tip toes to peek over his shoulder at his reflection in the mirror.
"Hmmm. Handsome."
Baka gave her his best debonair smile. "Bond. James Bond."
She giggled. "Here." She urged him to turn around so that she could finish the tie. He could have used a clip-on, but the extra trouble paid off. While she was doing that, he casually unfastened her towel and let it drop to the floor. He pulled her closer with one hand while the other found delightfully wicked things to do to occupy itself.
Baka loved the way her chest heaved when she sucked in a surprised breath. "You don't really want this tied, do you, James?" Her voice had taken on a sultry undertone.
He laughed softly. "Not as much as I want to touch the valet. In fact..." Grabbing her waist, he lifted, turned and set her on the edge of the bathroom counter and stepped between her legs. "...what if we just...?" He froze in place when the door chime rang.
Heaven pushed him back and wiggled down from her perch making him groan as she slid down his body to the floor. "That's Song. Go get the door and entertain her for a few minutes while I finish getting ready."
He acquiesced with a big indulgent sigh and a look that was as good as a promise about what would take place when they were alone again later that night.
Baka pulled open the door and gestured for her to enter. "Song. You look lovely." His baritone had a velvety quality that made compliments sound smooth and sincere as vintage malt.
She hoped "lovely" was an understatement. She was going for good-as-it-gets and had pulled out all the stops.
"Thank you, Baka." She stepped in, looking him up and down. "No one would ever guess there's a dirty old vampire lurking underneath those pretty clothes. And I do mean old."
He chuckled good-naturedly. "My lurking days are over."
Nodding toward the bedroom, he added, "She's almost ready. I think. Something to drink while we wait?" He pointed to a bar that had been cleverly hidden in an antique French secretary.
"No. No' drinkin', breathin' nor sittin' down in this dress or 'twill crease and look a fright."
"Okay. We'll stand up together." The conversation dipped into a lag. "So. What's the mystery behind why the Lady Laiken wanted you to attend this party?"
Aelsong Hawking had the sort of expressive face that revealed every emotion, no matter how small, no matter how fleeting. That was doubly so when the observer was someone who had lived as long as Baka. She might choose not to tell him what it was about, but it was clear that something was up.
"Other than the fact that my sister-in-law seems to like seein' me happy, I do no' have a clue."
Baka knew she was lying. Aelsong knew that he knew she was lying, but he arched a brow and let it go. That was the best that could be expected.
The bedroom door opened and Heaven walked into the living room in very high heels and a shortened, tightened version of the blood-red dress she got married in. She was stunning. Stunning and delighted that Baka was speechless. His face said he liked this version of that dress even better. Her responding smile was like a starburst.
"Great Paddy, Heaven! You can no' go with me lookin' like that. 'Tis a crime for old married women to go sashayin' about the countryside drawin' all the attention for themselves. You should stay home with your old stodgy husband."
"Song. Those are the nicest things anybody's ever said to me. Thank you."
The "old stodgy husband" wasn't as pleased. "Well, it's not the nicest thing anybody's ever said to me! I am the furthest thing from stodgy and you know it."
Her gaze flew wide-eyed to Baka as soon as he said it, which alerted Heaven to the fact that there was something in that statement that alarmed Aelsong. Baka wasn't the only person who could read Song easily.
Song had learned enough about humans to know that Heaven would sever the friendship if she knew that Song had shared a memorable night with Baka, one that was wild even by elf standards, and she knew Heaven wouldn't care that it was before she'd met Baka. At least in that lifetime.
"What's going on?" Heaven looked directly at Baka. "What do you mean 'and you know it'?"
"Um. I met Aelsong in Ireland when Ram and Elora were getting married." True. "Didn't I tell you?" No. "I stayed drunk most of the weekend." Also true. "And I kept company with some of the attendees of feminine persuasion." True again, if somewhat understated and a masterfully executed dodge.
"Oh." Heaven looked uncertain, like the conversation had taken an unfortunate turn down a blind alley. She didn't know how to backtrack and recover the mood. Fortunately Baka did.
He gathered her in his arms with a devilishly intimate and reassuring grin. "You are absolutely the most ravishing, beguiling woman in this dimension or any other. And I haven't given another female a thought since the day Director Tvelgar introduced us."
The tension eased when she responded with a crooked little smile. "Introduced us? That's what we're calling it?"
"Works for me."
"Me, too." Song opened the door. "Let's get this party started. The royal family of Scotia awaits."
Baka stepped into the hallway and offered both arms to the lovely ladies on either side of him as the three dazzled their way toward the elevator.
The palace was an easy walk in walking shoes and a marathon in high heels. The doorman had a car and driver waiting, as promised. The women were having such a good time being dressed to kill that Baka was glad about going after all.
Aelsong insisted on an old-fashioned London-style cab so that she could half-stand in the car and try to keep from creasing her dress. "Just a warnin'. Tonight I'm along to listen, no' to talk. If I speak they'll know I'm elf and the ground might open up and swallow us all."
Heaven seemed to mull that over. "You mean the only difference between fae and elves is dialect?"
Song screwed up her face. "Can no' say for sure. But 'tis a tip off. That I can say for sure. You will have to give me cover. Worse comin' to worse, just say I'm mute." When Heaven laughed, Song didn't like the impish look in her eye. "You would no'."
"Would not what?" Heaven batted her eyelashes and feigned innocence.
"You would no' deliberately say thin's, knowin' I can no' respond, that would make me either want to explode or want to squeeze your neck until that pretty amber necklace is permanently embedded!"
Baka was always surprised when reminded just how young his wife really was. "Come now. Nobody is choking anybody else. Heaven will behave."
Heaven looked out the window. "You can behave if you wish, stodgy old man. I will do what seems most fun at the time."
That threat miffed Song enough to make her forget about creasing the peau de soie dress. She sat unceremoniously and tried to reach over Baka to pinch Heaven. Baka blocked her with a stiff forearm while Heaven laughed with the impunity of a lady being protected by a powerful husband.
Baka stood on the fringe of the ballroom talking quietly with Simon Tvelgar. Both men were more interested in using their evening to discuss business than to engage in painfully inane small talk, chatting up people they would probably not see again, if they were lucky. Baka actually saw it as a momentous opportunity, because Simon's hectic schedule left him pressed for time and difficult to see. It was a bit of a challenge to manage verbal code so that nothing said between them
would seem extraordinary if overheard.
Now and then Baka's eyes were drawn to his spouse's heavenly body moving through the room in her scarlet dress and her fuck-me shoes. So far as he was concerned all her shoes were fuck-me shoes, but the heels she wore that night screamed naughty by anybody's standards. There could be no doubt that she was having a marvelous time pulling the other beauty along, introducing Song to everyone as her very pretty, but tragically mute friend.
At one point Song leaned into Heaven with a big grin and spoke next to her ear without moving her lips. "I will get you for this if I have to spend years waitin' for the right moment."
Without looking at her companion, Heaven smiled and said, to no one in particular, but within Song's earshot, "Shaking in my knickers, darling. Oh, look, there's someone you haven't met." She grabbed Song to drag her in the direction pointed out by Heaven's beautifully manicured and scandalously red fingernail.
Song gave her a look so evil it would curdle milk. "Years," was all she said.
Baka suspected Heaven was having fun at Song's expense, but it would have been impossible not to appreciate the essence of life and liveliness in that sort of youthful mischief.
Turning back to Simon, with one hand in his pants pocket, the other holding a heavy crystal tumbler of Scotch etched with the monarchy's coat of arms, Baka did look as if he could pass for James Bond.
"One thing is clear. It isn't going to be as easy as we had hoped. So far it's been Myrtle's Law regarding getting the Inversion kick-started. Everything that could go wrong has gone wrong."
"And you couldn't be more wrong about that," Simon replied.
"How so?"
"The worst thing that could have happened would be for the head of the task force to be reinfected with the virus, thereby becoming part of the problem instead of part of the solution."
Baka opened his mouth to respond, but his attention was redirected by a small fanfare.
The prince was being introduced and making a grand entrance.
Heaven leaned toward Song. "Do not tell my husband I said this, but oh, my, my."
Duff's eyes found Song like heat-seeking missiles. It was uncanny. Only a lifetime of pressure cooker discipline enabled him to tear his gaze away. But not before Heaven caught it. "Uh oh."
Moonlight: The Big Bad Wolf (Black Swan 4) Page 2
