Brothers: Legacy of the Twice-Dead God (32 page)

“The only reason you are not dead is out of
respect to MacNamara,” I said loudly, as he rose up onto his
elbows, confused and bleeding from his nose and upper lip. “Be glad
my brother said no or I’d be taking up your Challenge rather than
taking it to my attorney. Since you seem to think I’m still guilty
of something then let’s fight this out in the court, nice and
public like. Won’t that look interestin’ on the cover of the
Washington Post, Mr. Harris?” I paused a moment to let my anger
seep out some. I continued more softly, but my face was still hard.
“My brother survived, no thanks to you. You will not continue with
your persecution of my family. Come to terms with that. Do it
fast.”

I turned around to find my guys spread out in
a triangle around me with their backs to me. Their arms were
crossed protectively, but not threateningly. From the looks of the
people I saw, it wasn’t necessary. They looked pretty amused to
me.

“Who’s next, Ehran?” I asked calmly. Harris
was still struggling to get to his feet. Kieran made a show of
consulting the papers while Ethan and Peter relaxed their stances.
Harris made it to his feet with some help, wiping the blood from
his face with a handkerchief, his face red from embarrassment.

“McClure!” Harris shouted, lurching one step
forward. Then he froze in place like a statue. His momentum
teetered him on his leading foot and finally carried him face first
into the floor again. He had two shiny silver darts with bright
yellow and orange feathery plumes sticking out of his pants where
his butt should be.

“Didn’t you tell him that wouldn’t work
anymore?” Kieran asked somewhat loudly and with a big innocent look
on his face.

“Yes, sir,” I said, calmly, nodding and
playing into his act. “But as Peter said, ‘There’s no accounting
for stupid.’”

A roar of laughter went up around us, even
from the two that had rolled Harris over to check on him. I felt
the pull of magic as Kieran led us away and knew that Harris’
injuries were getting attention. I briefly considered staying long
enough to watch how the drugs were dealt with as compared to how I
had to handle Kieran’s but decided against it. Might look
suspiciously threatening.

If we weren’t the center of attention before,
we certainly were now. It was palpable and we were easy to spot
since most men were in black. But punching somebody out in the
first two minutes of being at the party makes being underdressed
surprisingly freeing. The constant attention was annoying but I was
beginning to get used to it, some.

Kieran handed me the next Challenge so I read
the name the first line: I, Felix Cahill… Looking up, I saw we’re
walking up to Felix Cahill, who was stiffening into a boxer’s
stance, making me smile and shake my head at him.

“No, Mister Cahill, there’s no need for
histrionics,” I said to him. “But I must decline the Challenge. I
have only been apprenticed for a week and my Master says I am not
ready for this level of competition.” I turned the written
Challenge to him and extended my arm to him, returning it. “If it
is convenient for you, though, my brother and I would welcome the
opportunity to speak to you privately. Would that be possible at
some point this evening?”

“I’m sure I can manage that,” said Cahill,
gruffly, relaxing enough to take the paper from my hand. “MacNamara
already holds a letter of decline of Challenge from me. To talk is
all we wanted anyway. Never wanted to face the son of Robert. I’ve
known him too long to believe too much of any rumors. Scary
bastard, he is.”

“I wouldn’t know,” I said lightly, chuckling.
“I never argued with him, but Ehran agrees with you. At your
discretion then, sir.” I bowed my head politely, not taking my eyes
from his, then turned to Kieran. He nodded politely at Cahill and
we turned and walked away from the European Council delegation.
Kieran led us to a banquet table against a wall, currently empty of
people.

“The other human Challenger isn’t here yet,”
he told us while picking up a small plate and helping himself to
canopies of some kind. “The other two are Fae and will no doubt
wait till closer to midnight to show up.”

I looked around the room casually. The last
Challenge came from the North American Council, the one my
grandfather belonged to, and they weren’t here yet. I wondered if
we were going to have to go seeking him. They knew his name and
what Kieran and Peter had done earlier wasn’t anything like the
Queens did. It could be done.

“What do we do until then?” I asked. “I don’t
know any of these people. You?” I asked Peter the last one.

“Actually, yes,” he said nodding, “One or
two, personally. Two or three more by reputation. Mind if I go say
hello?”

“Take Ethan with you,” interjected Kieran. “I
don’t want any of us alone for a while.”

“Oh yeah, this’ll be fun,” said Peter. The
idea amused him greatly. His aura spiked sharply at the thought.
“Come on, Ethan, let’s go beard the lion and put on a gun show.”
There were double entendres in there, but Peter was the only one
who knew it. Kieran and I watched them walk toward the US
contingent in a slow arc. Peter took a polite pace through the
crowd with Ethan beside him. Kieran and I split our attention
between the room and Peter.

They approached a couple, a man and a woman,
who looked in their mid-thirties, who Peter suddenly seemed to
notice. The first fact I noticed about the couple as Peter and
Ethan approached them, hand extended to shake with the man, was
that both of them were sharply sexually aroused and hiding it
poorly. The second fact was that it was aimed at Ethan, not Peter.
It spiked again when Peter introduced him, much more blatantly in
the man than the woman. She slipped her arm through his in a
practiced move. The man sputtered but seemed to collect himself,
artificially calming his aura and hers. Ethan shifted in place,
crossing his arms and making his biceps bulge in the short-sleeved
green silk tunic. The man’s eyes bugged out some, his aura
manipulations wavering, but he settled as Peter chatted amicably
with them. Ethan caught on early, but I couldn’t tell if he was
actually uncomfortable and trying to wriggle out from the situation
or his was playing with them, like Peter was. And Peter was
definitely playing with the pair.

Kieran and I snickered for a few minutes,
watching them. Really didn’t have much to do until Cahill was ready
or the rest showed up. I looked around in the US group to see who
had left. Maybe there was someone there we could talk to, but
everyone was studiously avoiding us. The European group had
splintered off into smaller groups of two or three and were moving
about, like an actual cocktail party. Kieran staked out a claim on
two small couches near the center of the room and sat. The room was
still fairly empty and we were alone in the immediate area. I took
one final sweep around the room, intending to sit for a few minutes
when a fresh group came in the door, catching my attention.

The North American contingent had arrived,
about ten of them walked in, four women and six men. Two men walked
in the middle of the pack, unescorted. One was my grandfather.

Uriah St. Croix had made it to the party at
last.

The other single man with the North American
Council was named Feinstein. Colbert’s files mentioned him briefly.
Feinstein wore a tuxedo with a Canadian flag in the lapel, but his
shirt and cummerbund had a wild floral pattern. The other four men
were similarly adorned with lapel pins of their countries of
loyalty. My grandfather was wearing a simple tuxedo, unadorned.
Three of the four women dressed conservatively enough in their
finery that their dresses were complimentary to them, fitting their
figures nicely and hiding flaws, as they should. They weren’t
exactly beautiful, but they were very nice looking. The fourth one,
though. I really think she was color-blind. And a null. Had to be a
null. She couldn’t be seeing the instant thread of laughter through
all the auras in the room and have stayed. The whole group shifted
toward the far corner of the room, away from us and away from most
everybody.

I sat down slowly. They would both know where
we were soon enough and I discovered the chill over my heart needed
some time to warm up before I faced my grandfather. But most of my
attention stayed on them. They settled onto settees in an empty
area of the room, farthest away from the remains of the US
contingent. Slowly the Hispanic couples ventured out, two at a time
to mingle. I saw Peter and Ethan swinging their way through the
room talking politely to several different people.

I glanced over at Kieran. He was kicked back
on the couch, sipping champagne, and watching the first couple to
depart talk to a black man telling an animated story involving much
punching and kicking. I didn’t think he was talking about me,
though. That was far too involved to have been Harris and me. The
second couple to leave was bee-lining back to their group, with the
woman unabashedly staring at us. I scanned ahead to their target
and was surprised to see Peter and Ethan already there, talking
politely with the couple boasting a Canadian flag. I turned back to
the woman, waved to her, and smiled, pointing back to Peter. She
stopped, with her man tugging at her arm sharply before she said
something angrily, then began walking again more sedately to their
franchised territory.

Peter and Ethan pulled away before the couple
reached them. They chose a different path back to us, I suspect
intentionally. Peter showed an amazing diplomatic ability tonight
and I didn’t think this was out of character for him. They swung by
a table of drinks and snagged four glasses of champagne and headed
out way.

“I think we’ll have company soon,” said
Kieran, amused by the interplay. Somehow, my grandfather had
managed to miss all of this happening so close to him. He was
watching the door closely, looking for someone. Feinstein sat
close, ignoring everybody. Peter and Ethan met with us at precisely
the same time the three couples came together in a circle, blocking
our line of sight.

“Peter is quite the social butterfly,” said
Ethan, grinning and handing me a fluted glass of champagne. “He was
quite popular with everyone.” He sank down onto the couch opposite
us and sipped his champagne.

“Nah,” Peter scoffed, handing Kieran a new
glass and sitting in the chair close to Kieran. “I’m the only one
anybody knows anything about. These people at least know Dad and
since they can’t see you three, you scare the crap out of them.
Besides, most of them were jockeying for introductions anyway. We
could have sent a goat out in green silks and they would have
glommed onto it.”

“He did what?” we heard faintly from the far
corner of the room. To carry that far in this room, it had to be a
shout. Ethan glanced casually to his right and grinned.

“I believe your grandfather just learned
we’re here,” he said, setting the flute on the table. “I’d prefer
water, myself.”

“I believe my presence will slow his arrival
here some,” said a voice behind Peter. We all turned see Felix
Cahill standing a step behind Peter. A second man stood behind him
watching us calmly. There was a family resemblance that went deeper
than their features, but I don’t think he was Cahill’s son. “May I
join you?” he asked casually.

“Certainly, Mr. Cahill,” said Kieran,
standing to greet them. We rose with him. “Thank you for joining
us. I am Ehran McClure. I believe you know my brothers, Seth, Peter
Borland, and Ethan.” Peter smoothly abandoned his chair and took
position standing behind Kieran.

“Please, call me Felix,” Cahill said. “May I
present my nephew, Marcus, my sister’s boy. He’s never been to such
an event. I must say his first is becoming quite unusual.” He
sidled into Peter’s chair and we all sat down. Ethan shifted down
the couch to make room for Marcus, but Peter stayed standing, a
green silk beacon marking our position in the room. He had a clear
line of sight to the US contingent. Glancing at Ethan, I noticed he
kept a constant eye on the North American Contingent and my
grandfather.

“I wouldn’t know,” said Kieran, brightly,
“This is our first time here as well.”

“Really?” Cahill asked, surprised. “I asked
MacNamara’s wardens when we arrived about your father, Robert, and
was shocked to learn that he had won the contest not once, which I
knew about, but three times. I had not realized that Robert was
quite that old.”

“Three?” asked Kieran. “Does that include his
team championships?”

Cahill blanched, but recovered quickly,
saying, “No, I believe my questions glossed over teams. I will
inquire again.”

“Father only told me about two team wins,”
Kieran said, kindly. “Those were in the last two hundred years.
He’d given up competing well before I was born, though.” Oh, I
understood then. Kieran was establishing his provenance and not so
subtly letting Cahill know that Dad wasn’t a pushover. And if Dad
wasn’t a pushover, there was a pretty good chance that he wasn’t
either.

“Yes, I wasn’t even aware that Seth had a
brother,” said Cahill, turning his attention to me.

“I wasn’t aware of it either,” I said to him.
“Until recently. A minor emergency pulled him to my rescue and
we’ve been inseparable since.”

“We’re on a quest to find our father and his
mother,” said Kieran. “And we’ve found ourselves in quite a bind in
that regard, Felix. A number of people, yourself included, seem to
be issuing considerable effort to confine my little brother for
purposes they won’t specify. Needless to say, I will not allow this
and will commit to whatever actions are necessary to maintain my
family and friends’ safety and well being. This would be simpler if
I knew why. What’s going on here, Felix?”