The others nodded, looking unhappy but far from surprised.
“On a more positive note,” she continued, “I managed to get us all registered for the conference. When I first called, they told me it was closed and that next year I should be sure to keep an eye on the deadline.” Her smile, all teeth and no humor, showed what she had thought of that brush-off. “But when I told them my name and mentioned the possibility of a substantial donation to Carver’s foundation if the conference program impressed me, the organizers did manage to squeeze out a few badges for myself and my entourage. So, you guys get to be my entourage.”
Fil bounced in her chair and sent her pale blond ponytail flying. “Ooh, ooh! I want to be the one who mouths off to the paparazzi and gets your name splashed all over the tabloids!”
Wynn snorted. “Fine. I think we can handle being your plus seven if it means getting us into the event.”
“Actually, I didn’t just get us into the event,” Kylie qualified. “I got four of us seats at the opening dinner.”
Dag scowled. “You did not mention this to me.”
She shrugged. “I’m mentioning it now so we can figure out who should use the tickets.”
“Did you not initially speculate that the Order’s strike could come at this event almost as easily as at the keynote address?”
“It was a possibility, but I really think they’ll go for the keynote. Bigger audience, more attention, and doing it on the final day of the conference is a lot more theatrical.”
“But you could be wrong,” he snarled, baring his fangs at her. She found it totally unfair that he could call those up when not in his natural form just for the intimidation factor.
Of course, the fact that she knew he would rather gnaw off his own arm than actually hurt her kind of balanced out the added threat. But still.
“I could be,” she admitted, “but I’m not, so rather than waste time, let’s just move on and decide which of the three of us will attend.”
“The four Guardians will attend this dinner event,” Dag decreed, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest to denote he would listen to no arguments. “If you have mistaken the target of the Order, it would be too dangerous to allow the females to attend.”
Said females turned four disbelieving gazes in his direction. Even the other Guardians had the good sense to wince and hang their brother out to dry. He’d put himself in that position, their expressions seemed to say, and he would need to dig his own way out of it.
“Oh, no, he didn’t,” Ella breathed.
Fil elbowed her in the ribs. “Shh! Do you think there’s time to make popcorn?”
“To ‘allow’ us to attend?” Kylie scooted across the rug until she could turn around and look her Guardian full in the face. Or rather, look the Guardian full in the face, because no way in hell was she putting her claim on anyone who spewed that kind of sexist meshugas. “Since when did a single one of us ‘females’ stop to ask your permission, Goliath? Because I don’t remember this conversation. I hope I was funny.”
“Damn,” Fil muttered from the sofa. “No popcorn.”
“The idea of four frail females in a room full of nocturnis with the threat of demons entering at any moment?” Dag leaned forward in his seat until he could nearly press his nose to Kylie’s. “It would indeed make me laugh if such a thing were a remote possibility, but as I will turn back to stone before I allow it to happen, it is not worth so much of my energy.”
The fist Kylie swung at that arrogant, testosterone-poisoned face never connected. Some kind of force field flung itself between knuckles and nose the instant before impact. Startled, Kylie looked around the room to see Wynn with her fingers pointed at them and an unhappy expression on her face.
“Not that he doesn’t deserve the hit,” the witch said, “but I refuse to waste time on his bullshit attitude. Especially since I think it’s better if none of us attend the dinner.”
“Why not?” Kylie snapped the question and reluctantly dropped her hand into her lap. Then, she scuttled across the floor to the opposite side of the coffee table from the sexist Guardian.