Magic Rising (19 page)

“Oh?. I have heard of Esme Sanchez’s family. They are an old one, like mine. Very respectable. Mary Richardson has been a member of the Council for many years.”

“Are any of them good enough to win?”

She laid a hand on my arm. “It’s not about who’s good enough. Micah, do you know the demons present?”

“Some.”

“Any ideas on which nominee their allegiances bend?”

“Towards themselves,” Micah said, without any hint of recrimination.

“Figures.” In a softer voice, Etoile continued, “We need to work the room tonight. It would be advantageous to know if our guests have been approached by any of my co-candidates and if they have a preference towards any one of us.”

“Does it matter?” I asked.

“It’s vital,” she assured me. “We must know ahead of time whether they have been promised anything from the other candidates in return for their support. I don’t want to be blindsided. Can you speak with Gage? Informally, of course.”

“I don’t think he’s feeling too friendly towards me.”

Micah whistled. “Did you look in the mirror?”

“You’re very complimentary tonight,” I laughed and he smiled.

“He has a point,” said Etoile. “And you do look lovely. Gage will talk to you, even if he’s trying not to.”

“You think he’s trying not to?”

“I think he’s trying to do what’s right, and that involves not looking at you like he’s a wolf and you’re a roast chicken. I know what that dress looks like, minus the jacket. You can keep them by the way. They suit you and I bought them on a whim. Don’t argue.”

I kept my mouth shut despite the urge to say, “Oh, I couldn’t,” but in all honesty, I was pleased with the gift. “Thank you. I’ll talk with him. We have other things to discuss anyway; but I’m not making any promises. I won’t interrogate him.”

“I didn’t say pump him for information,” Etoile said and Micah smirked. “Quiet, demon. You know I didn’t mean it like that.”

That was a good thing too because Evan had always let his thoughts be known regarding my friendship with Gage. Knowing there was once a mutual attraction, he placed certain conditions on Gage. I couldn’t blame either one for their actions: Evan for loving me and wanting to preserve the status of our relationship; and Gage for avoiding temptation. With Evan in absentia and Gage now having a girlfriend, I had to wonder what that meant for our state of affairs. We’d been friends and I wanted to maintain that.

“Speaking of demons, anyone heard from mine?”

“No,” said Micah tersely, though he looked uncomfortable. Now I thought of it, he was looking increasingly uncomfortable, the longer we stayed in the reception hall.

“Nor I,” said Etoile. “I attempted to call him yesterday evening and left a message.”

This was news to me. “How come?”

“As you said, it’s unusual for him to be out of touch for so long. I wouldn’t worry too much. Perhaps his cargo is giving him trouble.”

Micah and I both turned to her. “What cargo?”

“The creature he was sent to transport. What?”

“Neither of us knew what he was doing.”

“Not even you?” Etoile asked Micah.

He gave her a stony face. “Apparently not.”

Etoile shrugged, like the fact Evan’s right hand demon didn’t know what he was doing was inconsequential. “I overheard him, and he told me. He had to collect a demon prisoner for transport somewhere in the Midwest and guard him until trial.”

“Where was he transporting it to?”

“Not sure. I didn’t ask. I know he’s done these trips often.”

“Demons are rare,” said Micah. “We don’t get many of those. Usually, no one is left standing after a demon goes on the rampage.”

“Why would it have gone on the rampage?”

“Why else would it have been imprisoned?” he countered, dodging the question. “Excuse me. I will make enquiries. Perhaps they will provide answers.” He left before we could agree or disagree.

“This is his job, Stella,” Etoile said, closing the gap Micah left, though I wasn’t sure to which being she was referring. “He’s the best at what he does. There is no need to worry about Evan.”

“You just said he might have gotten into trouble!”

“Only because you were thinking it. It’s written all over your face.”

At the sound of the doors opening behind us, we wheeled around. From what I could see, the chairs were removed, replaced by tables that were set up around the perimeter, each set for dinner. A seven-piece orchestra was on the stage, and music drifted towards us, the melody upbeat. Etoile handed her jacket to her father as he passed and indicated that I do so too. It seemed we were readying for party time, but somehow, I didn’t think anyone would be dancing on the tables. Not like they had at the club Kitty had dragged me to, not too unwillingly, only a week ago.

“Will the candidates and their parties enter?” boomed a man. He wore a similar uniform to the waiters’, but instead of their simple shirt and bow tie ensembles, his was finished off by a dress jacket, with a black braid sewn to the shoulders and lapels.

“The master of ceremonies,” Etoile told me. “Put on a happy face. We must only show our strength tonight.”

All eyes turned towards us as we stepped into the space that cleared in front of the doors. Georgia already waited with her party, and Matthew Donovan’s assembled, as did ours. I saw both Esme and Mary moving through the crowd.

Seren and David joined us, then their parents and Astra. I wondered where Steven and Micah were and decided that politics prevented them from joining our party, which was a shame. I found that both had their moments of being quite charming. Marc joined us, which did surprise me. He offered me his arm, an enormous gesture of friendship in front of the gathering, and I took it. Folding my arm through his, he smiled down at me.

“Who’d ever thought it would come to this?” he said softly. “You managing your magic and me handling mine.”

“Happy days,” I said, my mouth dry as we stepped forward. I held my chin a little higher and refused to quake under the hungry gazes that raked us as we passed by.

ELEVEN

Marc, with his arm firmly looped around mine, swept me onto the dance floor before I could protest. I noticed several other couples joining us, which I welcomed. I won’t confess to being a great dancer. I’m good, but the ball was something else; and I’d never danced a waltz before, so I concentrated on following Marc’s lead.

“I know you’ve heard it,” he murmured softly, his mouth close to my ear so I could hear him above the music and chatter that enveloped us. “But I really never blamed you.”

I remained silent.

“My mother… she’d always been a difficult person. I’ve gone over it again and again. What didn’t I notice? What could I have done? I’m sure my father did too. I miss him.” Marc rested his chin against my head and breathed deeply. “She campaigned for my father to lead the Council, but I remember how they used to argue about it and heard her say that she could do a better job. Then he won anyway. She loved the power and the status. Anyway, I miss her sometimes, but I’m not sorry. What she did to your parents was unforgivable. Not to mention what she did to Astra…” He trailed off, and for a while, we just danced. “I know you’re sorry and I’m sorry too,” he finished.

Only then, did I lift my eyes to meet his and saw his unconcealed and absolute forgiveness — just what I was hoping for. Even though he’d already offered it, now I truly felt it. Marc smiled down at me. “Do you want to know what my special talent is?” he suddenly asked, surprising me.

“Yes! What is it?”

“I’m telekinetic. I’m like a freakin’ superhero. I can move
anything
.”

“Wow, that is cool,” I said, remembering the first few times I’d moved something through will.

“Right?” He beamed. The last few notes of the music played out and the dancers stopped, offering their polite applause to the orchestra. “Listen, I’ve seen a friend of my dad’s that I want to catch up with. I hope I see you again before the Summit is over. I’m glad we got to dance and talk.”

He leaned down, gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and hurried away. Before I could move, someone else was at my side; a warlock I deduced, and not much older than I. He gave me an appreciative smile that took in the cut of my dress.

“Would you like to dance?” he asked, offering his hand, but not his name.

I looked around for my friends. Etoile was ensconced in conversation. I was sure Micah was close by, but couldn’t see him. “Sure,” I answered, placing my hand in his.

We hadn’t danced more than a few seconds when the warlock slid to a stop, freezing.

“May I cut in?” The deep timbre of the voice made my head turn and my feet stop. My partner released my hands and stepped backwards immediately. He nodded to me and wheeled away.
Charming
, I thought, puzzling at his swift departure. Then I turned to see what sent him fleeing. The male who interrupted us was a large, imposing man, topping out at six-foot, four. Black-haired and broadly built, he aptly complemented the tuxedo he wore, with the shirt collar tightly strained around his muscular neck. I shifted my vision and studied his appearance. Demon. Pure-blooded demon. And he wanted to dance with me. Interesting. “It seems your partner has abandoned you,” said the man, holding his hands out, ready for mine. A quick look around confirmed that the warlock had definitely ditched me. It seemed he wasn’t too keen on demons, and certainly not against forfeiting his dance partner to one. I immediately thought much less of him. I was beginning to understand most witches’ reactions to the species, but not their prejudices. Demons definitely had an effect on them and it wasn’t one filled with joy.

Remembering Etoile‘s desire to charm the other races and woo their support, I decided,
why not?
I rested my hands inside the tall demon’s and we began to sway with the music. Despite his build, or maybe because of it, he moved gracefully, keeping perfect time with the music. All I did was relax and allow myself to be swept along by him. I stole a glance up at him, because having my face pressed into his tuxedoed chest wasn’t as interesting as it might sound, and I studied him. After a moment or two, I realised he was permitting me to do so, which made me feel a little less rude. His eyes were as black as his hair. The irises and pupils were blended into one and seemingly of endless depth. His skin was olive, but not because of a tan or of a mixture of skins; indeed, it was its own shade entirely. Though he was striking, I didn’t find him attractive. Like the vampire, there was something familiar about this demon, but I couldn’t put my finger on exactly what. I knew I’d never met him before. The only pure-blooded demon I knew was Micah, who, at this moment, was passing Etoile a glass of champagne while trying not to look too obviously interested in her. It might have fooled everyone else, but not me. Micah definitely was crushing on her. A movement behind her caught my eye, and I saw the pale vampire watching her intently. It seemed Micah wasn’t the only one.

“I have been looking forward to our introduction,” said the demon. His lips parted to reveal very sharp teeth. I thought they might have been capped because they seemed too perfect. “Your reputation precedes you, Ms. Mayweather.”

“Oh?” was all I could say. It seemed like an open enough comment, one that invited him to say more, while requiring me to say little. I wondered what he’d heard and why I was so interesting to him. I hoped he wasn’t going to ask me for inside tips on slaying witches.

“My name is Hunter,” he said, with an expectant pause, waiting for me to absorb its significance.

Of course it was! Of course! His name was Hunter, no first name. The shape of his jaw, the hair, something about the eyes. I knew this man because I was in love with his son. His very absent son. I might not have connected the two together since he looked no older than mid-forties, and at least twenty years younger than he should have looked if he were human. Apparently, demons aged quite well.

“I see you made the connection,” he said, spinning me around as we navigated a corner. “My son and I do not always see eye-to-eye,” he continued, “but I maintain an interest in his life and whom he invites into it.”

“Then you will know I’ve been in his life for a while,” I replied, not telling him anything he didn’t already know.

“Indeed. He seems quite taken with you.”

I wasn’t sure if he meant that as a compliment. He didn’t say Evan loved me, or that he adored me. Instead, he made it sound like it was a nominal notion of interest, a hobby, I guess, much like hothouse flowers, fishing, or a new pet.

Hunter raised my hand upwards and tipped it, gazing at something — my ring. The one Evan gave me before my birthday. The one Micah mentioned a couple of times. “He seems very taken,” Hunter mused, his eyebrows raised. “I did not know, however, that he had marked you.”

This was news. I looked up sharply. “Marked?”

“You didn’t know what this ring meant?” Hunter asked, clearly surprised. The emotion was gone as soon as it appeared. If I hadn’t been looking at him intently, I wouldn’t have seen it. Demons do not like to be surprised; not exactly a new revelation.

“It’s very special to me,” I replied ambiguously, letting Hunter take from that what he wanted. I wasn’t sure why, but I didn’t want him to know that I had no knowledge that there was something special about this ring. I only knew that it was a beloved gift with a strong emotional connection for me.

“This ring,” Hunter continued, undaunted, “is a token from my kind to their betrothed. Similar to the engagement rings you humans use. It marks the wearer with the bond of the giver, distinguishing them as… unavailable. You may have noticed the demons present tonight have looked upon you with unbridled curiosity because you wear this mark.”

I had noticed their shameless stares, but I credited it to my dress being so damn nice. Vanity! I wondered if anyone else could see what they were seeing, or if it was only a demon thing. I didn’t want to disadvantage myself by asking. Now I thought about it perhaps that was the point of Micah’s comments. Perhaps he wasn’t being merely nice. Perhaps he was doing damage control so I wouldn’t question the interested looks from the demon contingent. I wondered if they thought I was engaged to Micah or if they ring marked me as Evan’s.