Conspiracy (8 page)

“I’m counting on her advice,” Gregor replied.

The news of his father’s imminent death weighed heavily on Gregor as he walked along the familiar path with Haslane. They spoke little during the twenty-minute trek to the house above the village. Despite the power and authority of the Southern Realm—which vastly exceeded that of the other Elven kingdoms—the royal and noble families lived more common lives, actually working in the fields alongside their people.

While not a castle, the king’s house was large, multi-storied, and set apart from the cluster of village homes a half mile down the well-trodden path. Gregor and Haslane climbed the last few yards slowly as Gregor eyed the changes and the familiar. The sheep in the pasture remained a peaceful, pastoral, and constant reminder of his youth and daily duties. His father had instilled in him the understanding that to rule a people fairly, the king must understand them. To truly understand them, he must become one of them. And so, from an early age, Gregor had farmed, tending to the flocks and worked in the fields with his peers.

Before they reached the house, Camille was through the front door, running down the path, her arms flung wide. She hit Gregor with the force of a catapult, taking him in her arms and burying her head in his chest. He pulled her even closer and held her tight, his heart content at her presence. It had ever been so between them, the bond of brother and sister without the genetic ties that common parents provide.

When she regained her composure, the beautiful, flaxen-haired Camille tilted her head back and looked up at his smiling face.

“You have been gone too many years, Gregor.”

“From what Haslane tells me, you have not pined away my absence,” he replied. “Stealing my brother and convincing our parents to agree to the marriage must have taken some persuasion.”

“He came willingly,” she teased, glancing toward Haslane who stood close by, watching the touching scene.

“I always knew he was smart,” Gregor said.

Again Camille tightened her grip on him for several seconds, then stepped back and took his hand. “Your mother waits,” she said, pulling him toward the royal residence.

They entered the house and took the stairs on the right, climbing to the front parlor where his mother, Queen Cassandra, stood by the window. She turned as Gregor approached.

He bowed slightly, acknowledging her authority, and then took her in his arms.

“Mother.”

“The joy of your homecoming is overshadowed by sorrow, my son,” she said softly.

“Haslane has told me. Is there nothing to be done?”

The elderly woman shook her head. “We must accept what has entered our house,” she said, repeating an oft-used mantra Gregor and Haslane had been taught while growing up. “And then we must make the best of it,” she continued, completing the maxim. “It is time for you to assume your rightful role and ascend the throne.”

“I have not completed my tasks, Mother. Father was—”

“Your father is dying, son. His dream is unfulfilled, and you—you alone—will determine the future of our Realm.”

“Now is not the time, Mother,” Gregor said firmly. “I will continue to honor Father’s command. May I speak with him? Will he receive me?”

“He waits,” she said, nodding toward the far room. “He will see you … alone.”

Haslane and Camille remained off to the side as Gregor turned and walked toward the connecting passageway, opening, entering, and then closing the large double doors. In a wheeled chair out on the balcony, his father sat in the sun, a woolen blanket wrapped around his legs.

“Greetings,  my king,” Gregor said as he stepped past the chair and came around to face his father. Then, “Father,” he said, a soft and loving tone to his voice.

The fragile man extended his hand which Gregor took in both of his, kneeling in front of the chair. “It is good to see you, son. I have missed your presence, your counsel, and your love.”

“I have sent my love, Father,” Gregor replied, “at every opportunity.”

King Orleon smiled at his oldest son and heir. “I know. Your love has come on wings of eagles. It has done more good than all the healers. Tell me of the other Realms. Is there a chance for peace? Is there hope for the future unification of our race?” The older man motioned for Gregor to take a seat in a chair next to him.

Gregor rose to his feet and pulled the other chair closer, sitting adjacent to his father. “There is war brewing, Father. The two Realms have exchanged open conflict, with death on either side. Even the
Maith
have found it necessary to defend against the
Olc
horde. I believe we must intervene.”

“Is there no other way?’ the older man asked.

“Even as we speak, I have taken the royal families of each Realm to a secure place in the human world. They hide in fear of the approaching vandals in their Realms. Conspiracy is widespread in both kingdoms. I have come to ask your permission to restore order, to return with warriors and defeat the enemy before they grow even bolder.”

Orleon paused before answering, his brow knit in concentration as his son patiently waited for a response. His father had always been a firm decision maker and pronounced his rulings with confidence. This time, the old king’s response did not come as Gregor had imagined.

“The decision is yours to make, my son. I awaited only your return. It is time to pass the crown. You have been well prepared for this responsibility.”

“You are my king, Father, and I obey your commands,” Gregor continued, his voice strained as he fought to control his emotion. “I have unfinished work to the north. Both royal families are under my protection. Before I can assume …” Gregor stopped the words, refusing to acknowledge what now seemed inevitable.

“You will do what needs to be done, Gregor,” the old man insisted. “Now, bring your brother and his bride-to-be and your mother. We will be happy for a time. I have waited to be surrounded by my family, and I will not go before I see Haslane wed. And,” he said, reaching again for his son’s hand, “I am at peace in your presence.”

“Yes, Father,” Gregor said, standing and prolonging the emotional exchange between father and son.

Chapter Seven

Reagan

In the short time I’d known Viv, she never looked anything but stunning, and tonight was no exception. I was on detail with Tony, so I hadn’t been able to check in with Viv and talk to her before her “date”. Supposedly, it was a business meeting, but we all knew that was a farce. This was the first time Tony had taken a woman out to dinner since the death of his wife, and he looked extremely nervous. Ian filled in for the agent with the injured ankle so we could both play Peeping Tom on them.

This was the first time I’d had to deal with my boss dating. It had to be awkward, having an entourage for an intimate dinner for two, and I wondered how Hornet would handle it.

He had chosen a popular downtown restaurant, and as the black SUV Tony preferred pulled up, people gathered around and stared. High-profile people were common in Washington D.C., but not often the president or vice president. Tony made quite an impression with his dark good looks and his vice presidential entourage. Viv had opted to meet Tony at the restaurant, so I signaled for my team to do a sweep of the area. I already had a couple of men on site to check things out and prepare a secure area.

I accompanied Tony as he walked up to the entrance, followed by more agents. We entered and found our table in a corner of the room. Three surrounding tables had also been reserved and were currently occupied by other agents, male and female. Viv had not yet arrived, but we were ten minutes early. Tony ordered a glass of white wine and we settled in around him, trying to be unobtrusive. Ian was a few feet away, and when no one was looking, he winked at me.

I was a little worried. It was only a manner of when, and not if, the
Olc
would attack. As prepared as I tried to be for every eventuality, we were sitting ducks. The
Olc
knew exactly who Tony was now, and seemed to have the ultimate goal of his death.

Tony looked up from the menu and shifted his gaze past me, smiling. Viv had just entered and he stood to greet her. She looked ravishing. Her hair was loose and casually fell to one side, revealing a bare shoulder and neck. Her ice blue dress draped loosely over one arm and stopped short of her knees, giving an excellent view of her long legs. The great thing about Viv was that she seemed as nice as she was beautiful. Even greater was the fact that she knew how to display her beauty without appearing self-absorbed. I was really enjoying getting to know her.

I glanced over at Ian and he looked pretty stunned by Viv too, so I gave him the evil eye. Amusement crossed his face and I heard his voice in my head.
“Just looking, darling. It’s you I love.”

I shifted my gaze back toward Tony, and he was looking at me with a strange expression on his face. I was flustered—had he seen my interaction with Ian? Or worse yet, had he also perceived Ian’s thoughts? Then the look was gone and he directed all his attention toward Viv. He held a chair out for her, and they both sat down and talked for a few minutes before ordering. We were all far enough away that we couldn’t hear what they were saying, but throughout the course of the evening, they seemed to be enjoying themselves. They remained at the table until long after their dessert course had been removed and the bottle of wine was drained.

Finally, Tony stood and helped Viv out of her chair. They walked to the car with Ian and me close behind. I heard Tony ask if he could take Viv home, and she agreed. I sat in the front seat, and Viv and Tony were in the back with a tinted glass screen raised between us. Ian was in the lead car and we drove away, headed for the address Viv had given the driver. We had about a twenty-minute drive across town. I could hear the low murmur of voices from the backseat and an occasional burst of laughter.

It was all too ironic, really. Here we were, dancing around the vice president, protecting him and watching the attention and power he attracted from his position, and he was the heir to two kingdoms and didn’t even realize it. I had to wonder if the innate power he carried as an elf made him crave power in the human world as well.

We arrived at Viv’s place and pulled into the below-ground garage. I didn’t know what the plan was, which made my job even harder. We never liked spontaneity as agents, but Tony liked to change things up a bit. He kept me on my toes.

Viv had told me that she had settled into a month-by-month lease at a quiet apartment complex. As we pulled to a stop, the three official vehicles parked with motors idling, facing the exit, just in case we needed to move out fast. I knocked on the tinted-glass partition and Tony rolled it down from a control in the back.

“What’s the plan, sir?” I asked.

“Genevieve has asked me up for a drink. I’d like the other agents to remain at the security points, and two agents to come with us,” he explained.

“Not a problem, sir.” I radioed instructions to the other agents, and radioed Ian to accompany us upstairs. We waited a few minutes in the car while agents were put in position on the stairs and in the hallways. After a radio exchange, all was ready and I let Tony know.

Once we arrived at the apartment, Viv opened the door and I went in first, leaving Ian at the rear. I went through all the rooms and made sure everything was safe, and then radioed the other agents. Viv and Tony walked through the front door, followed by Ian.

“Wow, riding in a motorcade with security was a first for me,” Viv said.

Tony laughed. “It does take some getting used to. I’m still not sure how comfortable I feel with it all.”

Viv grabbed Tony’s hand and pulled him to the kitchen, where she pulled out a bottle.

“How does this one sound? I’m not that knowledgeable about good wines.”

She showed the label to Tony, who shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. I’m not a big drinker.”

To alleviate an awkward situation, Tony asked that Ian and I remain in the kitchen area while he and Viv went to the living room. I didn’t blame him. He hadn’t dated anyone since becoming a V.P. and it was more than strange to have four people in a situation designed for two.

“There’s a percolator and fresh coffee in the cabinet, Reagan,” Viv said.

“Thanks, Viv. I’ll handle it.

While the coffee brewed, Ian and I sat at the counter area and took stock of the kitchen. Viv hadn’t had much time to create a D.C. life for herself, but she had done a good job. There was artwork on the walls, the kitchen looked supplied with all the essentials, and she was prepared with a glass of wine for an impromptu nightcap. Given the short notice she’d been given to join us in protecting Tony, I was even more impressed with her skills.

We heard more laughter coming from the living room. Ian raised one eyebrow at me, and I smiled. “Oh, you
would
think this was funny! I don’t know how this is all going to play out. Tony’s falling for an elf, but he is an elf, but he doesn’t know he’s an elf, or that she is either… or
you,
for that matter.”

He chuckled. “Or you,” he replied, “but you do have a way with words, my darling.”

A few moments after we sat at the kitchen table, the hair on the back of my neck tingled and a familiar sense of foreboding permeated my senses. I saw Ian tense up. Before I could analyze it, four
Olc
sifted into the room with us.

“
Olc
!” I shouted, hoping Viv would hear me, and I pulled Cal from my pocket. I couldn’t radio my exterior agents for help and Viv was alone with Tony in the other room, so she wouldn’t be able to help without revealing herself to Tony, something we needed, or thought we did, to prevent. We had only seconds to try to do this ourselves.

Ian and I stood side by side with our Elven weapons drawn, service pistols still holstered. I hoped Viv had the sense to keep Tony in the other room so he wouldn’t see the battle about to be played out in her kitchen.

The
Olc
looked hideous, as usual. Pus-filled lesions covered their bodies, and a rank smell filled the air.