Pirate's Alley

After wishing him luck with the boss and hoping no shots would be fired this morning, I wandered around the hallway that formed a U shape before opening onto a large meeting space. It couldn’t be more different than the courthouse room patterned after the Supreme Court. This one appeared to have been patterned after early industrial warehouse.

 

The overhead ductwork was exposed and wrapped in foil-covered insulation, which matched the room dividers of corrugated aluminum. Long tables were arranged in a square, and the name placards looked as if they’d been hastily scratched out on cardstock using a black Sharpie on the verge of running out of ink.

 

Every seat had a placard and a microphone, so I wandered around looking for my name. I’d been placed between “Florian, Faery Prince of Summer” and “Special Guest Truman Capote.”

 

Awesome. Talk about an odd couple.

 

I spotted Alex directly across the room, talking to Zrakovi. Make that listening to Zrakovi. Even they were less formal than before. Alex wore a simple black sweater and pants, and Zrakovi a dark gray suit and striped tie. No robes or fake glasses today.

 

Jean arrived with Jake trailing a few steps behind. Ostensibly, he was working security for the Elders, but Jake took a place along the wall behind Jean’s seat. The pirate scanned the room, paused long enough to give me a small nod, and turned his gaze to Christof, who’d taken the seat on the other side of the one reserved for Florian. They exchanged a long look.

 

What were those two hatching? I knew Jean well enough that shooting his way out of the meeting would be a last resort; it would close off too many of his options. He’d scheme his way out first, and I’d wager the cost of my blue sacrificial-lamb coat that he and Christof had their own plans A, B, and C.

 

“Oh good, I asked to sit by the prettiest wizard in the room.”

 

I was glad I’d learned about the whole faery appearance-changing skill, or I wouldn’t have recognized the black-leather-clad, rooster-haired punk rocker who slid into the seat next to me. “Thank you, Prince Florian, but I am the only female wizard in the room and the only wizard of any gender in the room under sixty.”

 

He laughed, a grating, tinkling timbre that reminded me of his husky-voiced aunt Sabine. It made my skin crawl. I met the gaze of his brother, who was back in the short dark hair of the first council meeting. He nodded a greeting, and I wondered if this were his real face and hair. How would one ever know?

 

Faeries were creepy.

 

Alex left the room abruptly, and I tracked his progress down the hall until my attention was diverted by a pair of blue-gray eyes boring holes in me from the seat next to the one marked for Zrakovi. I squinted to read the print on his name placard, and my heart sped up. Holy crap. With all the drama, I’d forgotten Lennox St. Simon would be here.

 

We rose from our seats at the same time and kept our eyes on each other as we walked toward the center of the room, inside the square of tables.

 

He had Gerry’s eyes. In fact, he looked a lot like Gerry, except his hair was shorter and still dark whereas Gerry’s had turned silver by the time he died.

 

We stopped and fidgeted through an awkward few seconds before he finally spoke. “My God, you look just like your mother.” His voice was deeper than Gerry’s, but the accent was the same. Gerry had lived in New Orleans since about the time I was born, but he’d never lost his British accent.

 

I smiled. “I didn’t realize you knew her. You and Gerry look a lot alike as well.”

 

“Now.” He laughed a little. “Not so much when we were younger. I suppose you know that your father and I…” He looked away. “This is bloody awkward, isn’t it?”

 

Very. “It’s okay. I know you didn’t get along. Gerry had that effect on a lot of people. And I didn’t know about you either.” I laughed. “I didn’t even know Gerry was my father until he died.” Just before, but there was no point in going into that sad tale if he hadn’t already heard it.

 

“I’d like us to get acquainted. My daughter, Audrey, is about your age. Perhaps you could be a good influence on her.”

 

I coughed to choke off the guffaw that threatened to escape. No one in my life—ever—had expressed hopes that I might be a good influence on anyone or anything. Audrey must be pathetic. “I can’t wait to meet her. I was excited to learn I had a cousin.”

 

He smiled, and he looked so much like Gerry it made my heart ache and tears build up behind my eyes.

 

Until Lennox looked over my shoulder and mumbled, “What the bloody hell is that?”

 

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