Then Elliot grabbed the kitchen counter and levered himself upright so he could fiddle with the tape deck and start the song again.
He put out a hand to help Serene up, saw Luke and Serene both reach for the hand, reconsidered and reached past them to lift Rachel to her feet. Rachel grabbed his hand, laughing, and dipped Elliot with a look over at Serene as if to check she was doing it the elven way. Elliot laughed and laughed, and spun her when she let him up, and then they both shimmied at each other, circling each other with their palms up before they linked hands again. Sunshine painted them all in warm strokes, the song told them that fantasy could never be so giving, and Elliot sang along. Luke and Serene were leaning and tapping time against the kitchen counters.
Culaine barked once, a quick warning, and Elliot looked over to see Adam and Neal Sunborn at the door, watching them. He stopped dead, letting Rachel’s hand slip from his.
“Oh, hey, boys,” said Rachel casually, and beckoned them in.
“Hi, Aunt Rachel,” said Neal, coming over to kiss her while all the time undressing Serene busily with the corners of his eyes, sly as a vicar feeling up a choir mistress in church. “Wow, Serene, you look amazing.”
Simple fact. Neal could mention it if he felt he must. Elliot knew that Serene was used to the admiration of men and it would not affect her feelings. Besides which, he was slightly distracted by Adam Sunborn. Adam was still standing in the doorway, looking at Elliot. Elliot made a face at him: he was not going to put up being teased about his Pink Floyd T-shirt by awful Adam.
“Hey,” said Adam, and grinned. “You’re never little Elliot.”
“Have you tipped too many kids out of trees to be able to remember them all properly?” Elliot inquired, and withdrew to the counter as Adam advanced.
“What’s that?” said Rachel, her head turning sharply.
Elliot glanced at Luke. Elliot loved tattling on people. He thought it was amazing fun, and if people were dumb enough to put Elliot in a position where he could get them into trouble by opening his mouth, they deserved what they got. The code of not telling tales was the usual stuff where stronger people tried to impose their rules on weaker people so they could get away with everything. But Luke really believed in it, and this was his house, his mother, his cousins. Elliot had promised himself that he was going to be nice to Luke now Luke was his friend.
“Haha,” said Elliot unconvincingly. “Just a boyish lark, or whatever.”
“Yeah, I didn’t mean anything by it, and no harm done, right?” Adam asked. He had crept up on Elliot somehow: Elliot hated all people with warrior training. “Wow, you’ve changed.”
“I haven’t,” Elliot said flatly. “Just taller. Still extremely annoying.”
Adam laughed as if Elliot were making a joke, as if Elliot wanted to joke around with awful Adam. “I like your shirt.”
“Oh, that’s mature and intelligent,” said Elliot.
Mocking someone’s clothes in front of a mother. Well, it was about what Elliot expected of those two.
Fortunately Luke’s dad came in, and Adam and Neal had to follow him around like terriers yapping for a bigger dog’s approval, while Michael’s actual son gave him a nod which Michael returned because they seemed to have a silent understanding. Elliot had possibly heard them exchange two words ever, but he was pretty confident that Michael would drop Adam and Neal in vats of boiling oil rather than let anyone harm a hair of Luke’s head, so he figured Michael’s priorities were in order. Louise came in with her dad and said, “Little Red, you got so big!” and Elliot had to attend to the important business of showing her the tape deck.
After dinner Elliot sat in a window seat away from the main gathering on the cushioned chairs in the parlor. Louise and her dad were telling a war story, while Neal whispered sweet nothings to Serene and she looked amused.
Adam offered to fetch Elliot a drink, as if Elliot had not got wise to the whole spitting in a drink and handing it to someone when he was five. Elliot called in reinforcements and beckoned Luke over.
“Come sit,” he ordered. “Protect me from your cousin.”
“He’s not exactly fearsome,” said Luke, but he sat willingly enough and kicked up his legs, boots propped against the other side of the frame, so his whole body formed a barrier between Elliot and possible Sunborn cousin incursions.
“Why are they here again?” Elliot asked.
“They have to be here, for the thing,” said Luke.
“Strangely, your wildly unspecific words convey no information to me.”
“Oh, it’s like a trial?” said Luke. “For Sunborns? It’s a family thing. We have obstacle courses and tourneys, and there’s banners, and afterwards there’s a big celebration.”
“Ugh,” said Elliot.
“I know, parties,” Luke commiserated.
“I more meant all the physical exertion,” said Elliot. “But your mum says I don’t have to participate.”
“No, you can’t,” said Luke. “It’s for Sunborns. Also, no offence, you’d be killed.”
“No offence taken. I don’t want to participate in your horrible sounding family rituals. I also think it’s creepy that your family has private bonding rituals with bunting.”
“Calling my family rituals creepy is a bit offensive.”
Elliot waved a hand dismissively. “Well, I’m sad your cousins are here. Your cousins are the worst.”
“They’re not the best,” said Luke, which Elliot decided meant he agreed and he hated them too. “What are you reading?”
“A troll history written by one of their preeminent scholars. Did you know that trolls are naturally a very peaceful people?”
Luke found this difficult to believe, and had some purely anecdotal story of a troll trying to pull his head off and seemed to believe that proved something. Elliot disagreed vehemently.
“You are wrong and stupid and wrong about everything,” Elliot said. “Someone save me from this conversation.”
“Hi,” said Adam.
“Do you mind?” said Luke.
“Get lost,” Elliot told him.
“Oh, hey, reading again?” asked Adam, as if a) he knew Elliot at all, b) it was a funny hobby like compulsively making papier-mache rabbits, and c) Adam was being indulgent about it. “What’s the book?”
Elliot smiled at him charmingly. “Oh, it’s a great book, it’s called None of Your Business by I’m Not Going To Tell You.”
“This is a private conversation,” Luke added.
Elliot tapped Luke approvingly on the knee with his ballpoint pen. Adam eyed the object as if it were a tiny firework. Elliot still refused to use quills like everyone else because he found them inefficient and personally upsetting. Nobody understood. He had tried to share his awesome stash of office supplies from the other world, but Serene claimed she had an allergy to plastic, Myra had poked herself in the eye with a Sharpie, and the one time Elliot had felt pleased enough with Luke to award him a pen, Luke kept it like a souvenir rather than ever actually trying to use it.
“What,” Elliot said, as Adam finally backed off, “is wrong with that guy?”