Warrior of the Ages (Warriors of the Ages) (10 page)

“What are you doing?”

“I want to speak with you. You owe me that much. Your officers were actually going to send me to County Jail!” Crossing her long legs she dropped her purse onto the floor where it tipped and several items spilled out.

Standing beside the door Kahtar tried to ignore the images that Beth’s heart stirred within his own.
Safe Harbor, Warm Shelter, Home Plate.
Resting his hand on the door handle he reminded himself that she needed to leave. Beth White didn’t belong. In his peripheral vision he saw she was looking at the half dozen artfully arranged doughnuts on the plate at the edge of his desk and she glanced at him doubtfully, looking back at the plate, and at him a second time.

“I’m busy,” he told her. “You can take your license and leave. I apologize for your inconvenience.”

“You’re not busy, and that was the most insincere apology I’ve ever heard.”

“What do you want?”

Beth looked at the computer screens and smiled. They were all covered with images from his morning search. He’d forgotten about them. She’d driven the past completely from his mind.

“Lover of religious art work? Oh, are those statues of Saint Longinus? The one at Saint Peter’s Basilica is inspired, have you seen it?”

“What do you want?” Again the words were clipped and rude.

Beth leaned back in her chair and examined him. Clear blue eyes slid from top to toe and back again. Kahtar was used to being looked at. He was a giant, even among his own. What he was not used to was being seen. Beth White looked at him like she knew him—and knew him well. He crossed the room then, to hide behind his desk, pausing only long enough to close the screens on the computers. There was something unsettling about having those images juxtaposed next to him under Beth’s knowing gaze. When he met her eyes he had the feeling she had seen too much anyway.

“I’ve asked you repeatedly what you want, Miss White?”

“Despite the enthusiasm of Mr. Sherman Kelts, and Kelts, Phelps and Associates, I’m not going to get a license to operate my business in town.” Tugging at her ear she looked into his eyes as she spoke to him, not many people could hold Kahtar’s gaze, Beth apparently was one of them.

Though expert at hiding his emotions, he knew Beth saw the surprise in his eyes, because she continued.

“I’m right aren’t I?”

“I really don’t know what you’re getting at. How am I supposed to know about licensing for businesses in this village?”

“This isn’t a professional question, I’m asking for your personal opinion. I bought 35 Pearl Street because I need to open my shop in it, I’ve spent six years preparing to do this and I will do it.”

Her statement had the certainty of someone on a mission and he found himself silently rooting for her. Then he pressed his hands onto the desk in front of him so hard that something inside it cracked.

No. She can’t be here! She is not one of us and she is an exposure danger so close to the Arc!

“And you’re telling me this because?”

“Because I think they’re stonewalling me, I think that the village doesn’t want my business here. Look I’m not Walmart. I’m willing to follow all their nitpicky laws and don’t get me wrong, I’m not even complaining about them. Those laws allow you to have this lovely little village instead of a pile of strip malls. All I need is a license, but I have reason to believe no matter what I do they aren’t going to issue it.”

Kahtar found it impossible to meet her sincere eyes. She was absolutely right. She would never get a license to operate her business. Settling on staring at the smooth brow above the candid gaze he kept his voice bored.

“Were you hoping I’d go arrest the city council because you can’t get what you want?”

“I was hoping,” she scooted to the edge of her seat, “Chief Costas…” She said the name as though she knew perfectly well it was an alias. “That we could discuss nepotism in this city, surely you’ve been around long enough to know if it goes on.”

He looked into her eyes then, and fought the faint touch of connection he felt when he did it, forcing his gaze to remain cold and his heart to ignore the way Beth’s heart bounced against his heart like laughter.

“I’m not a lawyer, Miss White.”

“No, but you can tell me if it’s true. Does the city only issue permits to the in-crowd around here?”

Kahtar’s eyes darted immediately away from her penetrating, honest ones. He settled for staring at a wisp of the summer blonde hair that framed her pretty face.

“Oh, I see, of course. You’re one of them. I don’t know how I missed it before. So was he, wasn’t he?”

Kahtar’s eyes were drawn back to hers as though he no longer had control of them.

“That handsome officer that showed me in? The one with good manners and the blood sugar problem? He’s part of the in-crowd too.”

Kahtar couldn’t help it, his heart sank. This Orphan of the Inquisition was drawn to them, to the town, to her own people, and they were giving her the cold shoulder, and it was going to get a whole lot worse for her very quickly.

It is for her own good, she can’t live in both worlds and we can’t have her so close.

Despite the truth of that, remembering his duty he forced her bouncing heart away from his, certain she had to feel the rebuff even if she didn’t understand what it was.

Beth White held his eyes for several seconds before they grew cold too. That sight made him inexplicably sad. Silently he apologized to her, wishing it were different. She scooped her bag off the floor, brusque.

“Sorry to have bothered you, Chief, it won’t happen again.”

SHERMAN KELTS PICKED Beth up from the police station in his Jag-You-Are as he called it. He announced she could pay him back by treating him to lunch.

At the Bistro of his choice in downtown Cleveland, Beth watched as Sherman actually sniffed the wine cork. Deaf to her protests he insisted on filling her glass to the top with the shockingly expensive beverage.

“You’ll love it. Just taste it.”

“I don’t drink.”

“Wine isn’t drinking.” Sherman took a large mouthful and swished it around like mouthwash. Beth decided Sherman seemed like the sort of man who could have a perfectly happy lunch with very little response on her part, quite possibly none.

Settling comfortably into her cushioned pew, Beth ignored her lawyer and the wine. She ate her organic salad, quietly thrilled to have found what her mother always called real food. Sherman ranted about retribution for her false arrest. Beth occupied her mouth with chewing to keep from arguing, almost thankful for his soliloquy.

After a hopeful examination of the dessert tray, she settled on a Buy Local Fruit Compote. The waitress, a pretty redhead appropriately named Kelli, lifted the glass dish straight from her tray, setting it on the table in front of Beth. Several blueberries rolled over the edge, and Beth nabbed them off her lap, popping them into her mouth.

“Mmm, organic.”

“Organic is a gimmick. Just a way to get you to pay more,” said Sherman.

“Actually no it isn’t,” said Beth. Kelli winked at her and turned away with the luscious tray of desserts.

“For the price of that fruit, you should have gone with strawberry shortcake. Now that’s dessert—homemade cake and ice-cream. Killer fattening though. Looks like Kelli might be a big fan, if you know what I mean.” There could be no doubt that Kelli had heard every word, but she continued smiling at the couple at the next table.

Unable to stop the truth tumbling from her lips Beth glanced pointedly at her lawyer’s paunch while he shoveled in a double chocolate cheesecake.

“Kelli and I both know exactly what you mean, and I couldn’t disagree more. You’re very observant of the perceived faults of others, but you seem blind to your own.”

“Don’t take it personally, Beth. You could eat everything on that tray without a worry.”

“Thank you, Sherman. Perhaps I should.”

Holding his fork and a hand out defensively, he said, “I didn’t mean to say that you’re too skinny. Though women look better a little underweight and that’s a fact.”

Beth motioned to Kelli, who rolled her eyes a bit and returned. She slid the check across the polished antique table. Beth immediately slipped her credit card into it, handing it back to the gorgeously curvaceous waitress. Counselor Kelts continued stuffing his feet in his mouth until the woman returned to whisper that the card had been declined.

The same was soon true of all three of Beth’s credit cards.

While Sherman submitted his take on the wisdom of purchasing a house beyond one’s means, Beth rooted in her bag, thankful to locate enough cash to keep her out of any further debt to Mr. Kelts.

“You can’t be serious.” Kelli shoved the extra fifty back at Beth.

“Don’t worry, I actually can afford it. Besides, you earned it,” Beth said.

“Thanks.” Kelli stuffed it into her pants pocket, and nodded towards Sherman. “I’ll use it to buy more cake.”

ON THE FREEWAY, heading back towards Willowyth, Sherman had the audacity to ask if Beth came from money. Her opinion of him couldn’t get much lower, but she answered frankly, she never really had any choice in that matter.

“No. My parents were both in the military.”

“Really? You don’t have that look about you, you know, military brat. How did you come up with the cash for Pearl Street?”

Clenching her bag with fists Beth fought it, tried to resist answering the nosy question. It was no use. Whatever filter the rest of humanity had, she had been born without it. Always, all her life, she’d answered questions with brutal honestly.

“I worked in international stocks after university. I was really good at it.”

“Did you now? Can’t imagine anyone leaving that kind of work for running a gift shop in rural Ohio….”

It wasn’t a question and Beth’s hands unclenched. She didn’t care what he could imagine, and she bit her tongue rather than point out that she most definitely was not opening a gift shop. Hoping to avoid hearing any further questions she rolled down her window. The wind blew loudly into the car, dimming Sherman’s voice as he droned on about poor business prospects.

“Why’d you do that?” he protested. “I have air-conditioning!”

Beth leaned towards him, almost relieved to answer this honestly, no longer caring if she hurt his feelings.