Wild Card (24 page)

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Authors: Mark Henwick,Lauren Sweet

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Science Fiction & Fantasy, #Fantasy, #Contemporary, #Urban, #Paranormal & Urban, #Urban Fantasy

BOOK: Wild Card
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Ricky and Alex shrugged at each other. “Hope they have something good to eat while we wait,” Ricky muttered and let himself be taken away. He wasn’t exactly security, but I didn’t want to get into a long explanation of why he was here. I guessed Felix wouldn’t get to hear about this part.

 

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

 

On the night of the Assembly, the antechamber had been all business. Now it was transformed.

Along the walls stood six-foot-tall sprays of lilies, bright and styled like explosions of fireworks, their perfume subtle but sensuous. Chandeliers glittered above. Guards in crimson jackets and black pants stood on either side of the closed doors to the reception. A wide carpet in matching crimson with gold patterns ran the length of the room.

Jen’s eyes roved over it all. I could almost hear her calculating what it cost and which of her events it might suit. Alex wrinkled his nose and pretended he wasn’t impressed.

I turned to look at my House, suddenly afraid we wouldn’t be upscale enough. Thank God Jen had insisted on the formal dresses for us. She looked amazing, of course, her silver dress the exact match to my gold. Alex and David looked good in their dinner jackets. David needed to remember not to slouch. Maybe Pia looked a little out of place with the rest of us, but the hint of Scheherazade in her swirling skirts made her look fabulous and exotic. She had assured me that there wasn’t a unified style at these occasions, and other Athanate would be in alternative dress.

Damn, we looked good, even if I said so myself.

David stood at attention like a fresh recruit, stiff and awkward, staring over my head. “Do we pass inspection, Ma’am?”

Jen rolled her eyes. The rest of them laughed.

“House Farrell.”

I turned.

A blonde woman in a blue ball gown stood waiting. Despite her studied calm there was an air of wariness about her, as if she was expecting everything to go wrong the very next moment.

“I’m Elizabetta Cleve kin-Sherman of House Altau. I’m Head of Protocol for the reception.”

“Pleased to meet you, Elizabetta.” I looked closely at her. From the kin-Sherman name, she was kin to Tom—one of my friends among the Haven security staff. I wasn’t surprised he’d found such an attractive woman to be his kin.

“Liz,” she said. “But please always introduce yourself formally first. I’ll be taking you in shortly and announcing you, but it’s always expected that you greet people individually with your full name.”

While I was wondering if I was supposed to introduce her, Jen spoke. “So I should say that I’m Jennifer Anna-Marie Kingslund of House Farrell?”

Elizabetta shook her head. “The form is Jennifer Anna-Marie Kingslund kin-Farrell. You can also add the House Farrell at the end if you wish. Here, as guests of House Altau, no one would challenge you, but it’s always best for kin to state your kinship among Athanate.”

A discreet gong sounded behind her.

“The last group has cleared,” Elizabetta said. “Please come with me.” She turned and led us to the doors.

How bad can it be? They aren’t going to eat me.

Despite my brave words, my heart was in my mouth.

At the door, Elizabetta turned for a last check.

“Ah, no,” she said. “Excuse me.” She rearranged Alex and me, so that it was his hand coming up under my arm and resting on me rather than the other way around, mirroring the way Jen had already chosen.

Alex glowered and Jen smirked.

Enough, children.

The doors were opened and Elizabetta led us through, with David and Pia close behind.

We stopped five paces inside.

As with the antechamber, the Assembly room had been transformed. The heavy crimson carpet reached every corner, chandeliers marched down the middle of the room and the walls were hung with drapes of black, gold-embroidered silk.

A classical string quartet was playing on a balcony. They paused as another gong sounded clearly.

I’d been an unwelcome visitor in redneck bars that didn’t go as quiet as the Assembly room. Every eye was on us.

Elizabetta’s voice rang out. “Amber Farrell of Denver, House Farrell. Friend and ally, close affiliate and subordinate to House Altau. Her kin and House.”

She repeated it in Athanate. I caught words I knew:
ykos, philos
and
perikos.

Hell, another few years and I’ll be fluent.

Bian had used those words to introduce me to the Lyssae Anubis and stop him from biting my head off. I thought they seemed useful words to know, looking around at some of the faces in the crowd.

Elizabetta ended with, “be welcome to Haven, House Farrell.”

A murmur came from the Athanate, and the quartet restarted. Some heads turned away. Some conversations restarted.

The more I looked at it, the more the gathering seemed unbalanced somehow.

I didn’t have time to analyze it. Beside me, I could hear Alex and Jen both let out a breath, and both stop when they realized the other was doing it too.

“Well, Pia said there would be a reaction to us,” Alex said, clearing his throat.

“It’s not all about us.” I frowned. I didn’t have enough knowledge about the factions within the whole Panethus group, but at a glance it seemed there were two sides and a middle ground of undecided. A few of the clusters looked almost confrontational.

There didn’t seem to be any consistency between them as to their reaction to us. What was going on?

Pia slid up alongside us, but at that moment Bian emerged from the throng, followed by a man and a woman. I recognized the woman from the charity ball and both of them from the Assembly.

“Amber, I’m delighted you could come,” Bian said.

Yeah, I’d had a bit of a meltdown on the phone to her. I’d apologize later.

“I think you’ve met Eugenie,” she went on, “and this is Louis.”

Bian was easing us into the party.

Oh, well, here goes my first formal intro.

“Amber Farrell, House Farrell.”

“Louis, Compte de Fontaines d’Argonne, House Argonne.”

Oh, Gods, what had Pia told me? Titles overrode surnames. Not only was he House Argonne, he was a French count. Hadn’t they chopped off all their heads in the revolution? Apparently not.

And the woman…

“Eugenie Augusta, Herzogin von Urach-Passau, House Passau.” She smiled apologetically. “What a mouthful! Just Eugenie.”

Didn’t Herzogin mean princess? Now I felt completely disadvantaged in the name department.

She leaned forward and we kissed necks on both sides.

Diana had explained the custom which allowed Athanate, when meeting, to assess each other’s marque and emotional state. It was a skill I had yet to acquire, or maybe Eugenie had her emotions under better control than me. I wondered what she made of my marque, blended as it was with Were. But I guessed that was Skylur’s purpose in this whole reception, to let Panethus sniff me for themselves.

“Louis, of course,” said her companion, capturing my hand in both of his. We kissed necks and he ended by bending his head over my hand. “I could not dream of being such a burden on your mouth.”

“And there was me, thinking I was the one with a bit of wolf,” snapped my demon.

Bian and Eugenie burst out in laughter. Louis smiled, not looking at all put out.

Jen and Alex made their greetings in turn. Neck kissing was an Athanate thing, not required for kin, to Alex’s enormous relief when greeting Louis. Jen just smiled and looked relaxed, as if she did this all the time.

I could feel Alex’s discomfort about all of it, but my kin found that the pompous formality of making introductions all around made it impossible to be angry for long. Maybe that’s why Athanate did it.

“Not everyone will be as pleasant,” murmured Bian as we kissed necks. “Try and throttle that demon in your throat, Round-eye. I have duties, but I’ll be back.” She slipped out, brushing deliberately between Jen and Alex. “Keep a dance free for me later, all of you.”

Louis talked to Jen and Eugenie to Alex while I was distracted by Norgaard from Denmark, who’d been supportive in the Assembly, and had come up to introduce her kin to me. They were a pair of handsome, straw-haired young men, who were twins. They looked like a couple of teenagers she’d just kidnapped off a farm in Jutland, but they claimed they were fifty years old.

While we talked, staff drew back the drapes on one side, revealing a second room with a dance floor and tables of finger snacks. The walls of the second rom were mirrored panels, offset in a zigzag pattern, creating a kaleidoscopic image. I found it disorienting, but the gathering mingled more as they drifted into the new room. I lost the feeling of cliques forming in the glittering swirl of Athanate and kin.

The quartet merged into a larger group and began playing ballroom dance music.

Wait staff began to pass through, carrying trays of champagne.

“This is excellent champagne,” said Jen, sipping from a glass and frowning. “But I don’t think I know it.”

“Ahh. These are the very fountains of Argonne,” Louis said. “My life’s work has been to produce a champagne truly worthy of beauty.”

“Not champagne then, if it’s from Argonne. It’s just
méthode champenoise
.”

Ouch.

“There were vineyards producing champagne in Argonne when Champagne was muddy woodland, Ms. Kingslund, but I grant you, they’ve marketed their name better.”

“Hmm. It’s certainly better than most of those that market themselves so well. I must buy some.” Jen smiled brightly at him. “And provided you don’t read anything into it, it’s Jen.”

Louis inclined his head formally. He seemed to be enjoying the cut and thrust of talking to Jen, however sharp her strikes were.

“We need to follow Skylur’s example,” Eugenie was saying to Alex. “There should be much better links between Athanate and Were. Perhaps you could visit us in Germany and show us how.”

My lips twitched. I had no problem with this flirting, and no worries about my kin. I wondered if Bian had selected Eugenie and Louis for exactly that reason.

For myself, after Norgaard, I had a succession of Houses introducing themselves to me. Many did it as a formality, a convention that they had to observe. The new House needed to be greeted. It wasn’t that they were hostile, but few had the easy approachability of Norgaard, or the embarrassed friendliness of Lindberg, the representative for Sweden. A few were downright unhappy and not concerned that it showed in their marque scent. I might not be able to read Eugenie, but I could read some of them.

In my head, my countdown clock was ticking. In another hour or so, I had to be out of here, out of this dress and racing off onto the high plains to fetch the colonel. A shiver of the Athanate elethesine hormone burned off the little champagne I’d had and got me a startled look from the Athanate House I was greeting.

Couples drifted onto the dance floor. Long-lived Athanate and kin had had time to perfect their technique. I had noticed at the charity ball that none of them ever seemed to put a foot wrong in a dance.

Slowly, my House was lured out onto the dance floor. First Jen and Pia, then David. Finally someone decided Alex wasn’t about to turn into a slavering wolf and he joined in. I was still too busy kissing necks.

Finally, I had Arvinder to contend with, leader of Theokos—the powerful Athanate subgroup that had switched allegiance from Basilikos to Panethus in the recent Assembly. He was dressed as formally as Alex, but managed only to look like a handsome, laughing pirate in a dinner suit.

Despite meeting previously, we greeted each other formally.

“No devotees here with you, Arvinder?” I teased. Many Athanate had brought kin with them, but Arvinder’s creed dictated a different position for his human partners, almost worshipers. I wasn’t comfortable with the idea yet, but I’d wait until I met them before I formed an opinion.

“I am tactful, and most aware that it could cause discomfort here,” he replied, looking around at the swirl of dancers.

“What’s the buzz here? Isn’t Panethus one big, happy group?”

“Panethus isn’t really Panethus anymore,” he said obscurely.

I was about to dig deeper when, in the middle of the dance floor, Jen’s silver dress caught my eye. I half-expected her to be with Louis, but she wasn’t. She was dancing with Bian.

“Excuse me.”

I sliced through the dancers to touch Bian’s shoulder.

“My turn, I think.”

“Oh, Amber, it must be the lighting. I never noticed before how green your eyes are,” she said. “You can’t dance with your kin this early in the evening.” She reached out, one-handed, and snagged Alex as he passed.

He turned, and his eyes grew round at the opportunities for this to all go wrong.

Bian skillfully handed Jen over. Alex and Jen looked as if they’d each picked up a rattler. I tried to say something, but nothing emerged and Bian swept me off, leading expertly.

I was working hard not to stumble, so I could barely spare them a glance. I saw Jen pull Alex forward and he automatically moved into the steps of the waltz. They left enough space between them that I could have fit in, and maybe that was where I should have been.

Bian giggled. “Ken and Barbie wouldn’t look that stiff. Leave them. They have to adapt to it eventually.”

“All fun for you. It’s a delicate time, Bian.”

“They aren’t made of glass, either of them.” She turned us around and danced us away from the crowded middle of the floor. “Stop twisting your head. They aren’t going anywhere. Besides, you can see them in the mirrors. Cool, huh?”

“Your design?”

“Yeah.” We’d reached the edge of the room and she maneuvered us around until she had her back to the mirrored wall.

“Is it an Altau specialty?” I asked. “The mirrored room?”

“No,” she said. “I got the idea from a Kung Fu film. What you think you see is not what you see. All those thousand images, which is me?”

“Hmm.” She’d missed a step and I’d nearly stepped on her toe. “This kind of dancing’s not your preferred style, is it?”

“You should see the parties I give,” she said, distracted.

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