“It changes everything,” Rene said. “Alex loses someone he loves. He loses ground with Zrakovi because he kept your and Jake’s secret. You’ll lose your job, at the very least; maybe you and Randolph even get accused of conspiracy since your bond was the main reason he got on the council. If you’re on the outs with the wizards and Randolph’s connection to them is gone, it leaves Mace Banyan stronger, the wizards’ dependence on him greater, and the vampires with nice, clean hands.”
Damn it, it was a brilliant plan. But we might be able to stop it.
“Christof’s the one to take it to the council, as long as Jean trusts him.” I rubbed my temples. “But we need a backup plan to get Jake out. Even if he’s cleared of killing Hoffman, they’ll know about what happened with me. I think Alex will be okay.”
Alex knew Jake had infected me, and he’d kept that secret. But he didn’t know about the bond with Rand until after it happened, and he went to Zrakovi immediately. His hands were mostly clean.
Mine were not. I’d probably lose my job, maybe even be stripped of my Green Congress license. I could be mixing illegal potions to sell on the black market.
Rene belched and pushed the tray away. I swear, for a wiry guy not an inch over five-nine, he could put away prodigious amounts of food. “I got an idea about getting Jake free if it all goes to hell, but we need Christof for that, too.”
After another hour, we’d moved our planning base back to Jean’s suite. I’d called the concierge, and they’d been oh so happy to run through the blinding snowstorm to Canal Street and pick up a video camera and DVD equipment.
By the time Adrian had recorded a halting, but effective, testimony, complete with the dates, times, and locations he’d seen Mace Banyan and Garrett Melnick together, Christof had arrived.
I thought Adrian was going to have heart failure when he realized who his delivery boy was going to be.
“You can’t trust the fae,” he whispered, pulling me aside. “We don’t know where their loyalties lie.”
I stepped back and gave him a hard look. “You need a reality check, Adrian. If there’s anything I’ve learned in the last couple of months, it’s that every group’s loyalty lies only to itself. That includes the wizards. Nobody’s looking out for the greater good. Nobody’s looking long-term.”
He glanced down, and when he lifted his gaze toward me again, his face was vulnerable and naked. “Unfortunately, you’re right. I…” He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry for having been so weak. I feel like I set all this in motion. I love Terri, but it shouldn’t have come to this.”
Christof had entered the suite carrying a half-gallon of generic store-brand ice cream and now was in search of a spoon. “There’s one on the tray in my room,” I said, and Rene went to retrieve it. “If you like ice cream, you should buy Blue Bell.”
Christof paused with an ice cream–covered finger stuck in his mouth. “It is good?”
“I would almost kill for it.”
“Bring it to me.”
I studied his face to see if he was joking—and to see what face he’d worn. Mr. Imperious today was about eighteen, with a Justin Bieber haircut and dimples. It was downright freaky.
“Fine.” I called my friend the concierge and asked if there was anyone who’d trudge through growing heaps of snow to buy two or three gallons of Blue Bell Ice Cream. “Make sure one is the homemade vanilla flavor,” I said. “Surprise us with the other two.”
If I had any money left on my credit card when I checked out, the concierge was getting a big tip.
Fortunately, ice cream seemed to put Christof in a jovial mood, especially when the Blue Bell arrived in fairly short order and he dipped a big spoonful of vanilla directly from carton to mouth.
A wide smile crossed his face. I’d looked in the bag. Wait till he tried the pralines and cream.
“What can I do for you, my friends?” he asked around a pint-size mouthful of ice cream. A literal pint-size.
Jean explained the problem, and posed the idea of Christof being the one to present the magical testimony at the council meeting. In hindsight, Jean was probably the last one who should be explaining video.
“Of course,” said the gluttonous Prince of Winter. He’d eaten a third of the vanilla while Jean talked, and now peeled off the top of the Tin Roof.
“Chocolate?” he asked, brows raised.
I nodded, being unfortunately well acquainted with the company’s entire roster of flavors. “Fudge and peanuts.”
He handed it to me. “Cocoa is harmful to the fae; even small amounts make us ill.”
What a sad, sad thing. No chocolate and no dogs. I said a prayer of thanks that I had no fae blood. I’d rather risk spontaneous hibernation than be forced to give up chocolate.
“You’re safe with the pralines and cream,” I assured him, watching in fascination as he peeled off the lid and dug out a mound of ice cream the size of a softball. It balanced delicately on the bowl of the Monteleone silver spoon while he licked his way around it with the tongue from his Justin Bieber mouth.
“We also wanted to see if you could help get Jake to safety if things go badly,” I said. “I’ll let Rene explain.”
“I will already say yes.” Christof finally set the carton of ice cream down, although he looked at it with regret. “Jake is a loyal friend. How could I do otherwise?”