Atlantis Betrayed Part 12

Hopkins nodded. "Of course. I'll just clean the shotguns, shall I?"

Message received, in other words. There was trust, and then there was "trust with her baby brother." Two very different things, especially from men who could so easily talk about killing vampires. The knot in her chest loosened and she put her hand on Christophe's arm. "Let's do this, then. Try not to offend anyone, that's all I ask. I have to a.s.sociate with these people."

Christophe grinned down at her. "When have I ever been offensive? Oh, by the way, this is for you." He put a hand in his pocket and pulled out an object the size of a golf ball, which he tossed her way.

She caught it and then opened her hand and stared at a large rock. "Lovely. I've always wanted a-oh, for the love of Saint George, that's an uncut diamond."

Her knees wobbled and she had to lean against him for support. "That-that-it must be-"

"One hundred carats, give or take," Christophe said. "It should be ample to pay for your share of the Siren, don't you think?"

Hopkins crossed the room in three paces and lifted the stone from her hand. "That's ridiculous. It must be a fake." He examined it, holding it up to the light, turning it this way and that. "But it doesn't look-This can't be."

Fiona nodded, still staring at Christophe and then back at the jewel. "Trust me. I know jewels. Examine it, but I'm fairly certain that's an actual diamond."

"Should be excellent quality, too, but feel free to check it out for yourself," Christophe said. "Should we go?"

Fiona slowly turned to look at Denal. "Does he always do this? Give away fantastically valuable gems?"

Denal was watching Christophe, too. He slowly shook his head. "Never, as far as I know. Never took anybody to a ball, either, though, so what do I know? Next thing I know, we'll all wake up down Alice's rabbit hole."

"You're worried about rabbit holes, when you're from Atlantis?" Declan started laughing. "I think we're all in Wonderland. I also think we need a great huge pizza or two."

"At least two," Denal said, following Declan out of the foyer, headed to the games and media room, no doubt.

The bizarre juxtaposition of pizza and hundred-carat uncut diamond boggled Fiona's mind, and she stood, frozen, staring at the jewel in Hopkins's hand.

"If you have diamonds like this just lying around to give away, why do you need the Siren?"

"That, my beautiful one, is a very long story, and one I think we should save for later, before Hopkins yells at us again for being late."

Hopkins looked up, more off-balance than she'd ever seen him. "Late. Right. Go. We'll talk later." He closed his hand around the diamond. "Fiona, we can fund so many programs with this, if it really is what it looks like."

"You called me Fiona. This really is a banner day. Diamonds, book signings, and crime solving." She turned to Christophe. "Life is certainly interesting with you around," she told him.

"I was thinking the exact same thing about you."

Chapter 17

The British Museum

"Are you noticing a theme, here?" Christophe scanned the Great Court as they entered. "Our relations.h.i.+p is built on museums."

"We have a relations.h.i.+p?"

He was quick with a wolfish grin. "Oh, sweetheart. Are we ever having a relations.h.i.+p."

"We need to talk about that diamond."

"That was business. It has nothing to do with us."

"There's an us?"

He didn't answer, at least not in words, and she decided to ignore the implications of his wicked smile and take refuge in lecturing him about their surroundings. "The Great Court is the largest covered public square in Europe, with approximately two acres of s.p.a.ce. It was designed by Lord Foster-well, redesigned, really-just in the late nineties and opened by the Queen just after the turn of the century."

"Turn of the millennium," he pointed out.

"Well, yes, that, too. You'll notice the ceiling-"

"Oh, yes. I couldn't miss that ceiling." He whistled, staring up at the gla.s.s-and-steel canopy.

"They constructed it out of more than three thousand panes of gla.s.s and, like snowflakes, no two are alike." She smiled. "I absolutely love it. I feel a sort of peace in this light, airy s.p.a.ce."

He surprised her by putting an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close. "That's great news. If you like this, you're going to love love the Great Dome of Atlantis." the Great Dome of Atlantis."

Fiona started to snap out a retort, but the pleasure on his face as he looked up and around at the wonderful s.p.a.ce stopped her. Maybe there really was an Atlantis. Maybe he really was from there. After all, it wasn't that long ago that they were all scoffing at the idea of vampires, and now there were certain to be some in attendance here tonight. Nothing, it seemed, was impossible anymore.

Not even Plato's mythical lost continent.

"Is it just a city? Or a whole continent?" she whispered, and he jerked his gaze down to stare at her in surprise.

"You believe me?"

"Maybe. Maybe a little." She laughed. "I don't know what to believe anymore."

"If you-" He paused and his eyes narrowed. "Who's the dandy on his way over here? He's staring at you like you're on the dessert menu."

"As did you, earlier," she pointed out.

"That doesn't mean any other man can do it," he growled.

"Lord Nicklesby," she called out. "What a delight to see you here."

"Fiona, my dear," he said, taking her hands in an overly effusive handshake. Now that she thought about it, Christophe was right. Nicklesby was a bit of a dandy. He had more gel in his hair than she did. "I was rather unpleasantly surprised to see you on the telly this afternoon. Bit of a strange situation, hmm?"

"Are you calling me strange?" Christophe's smile was all the more deadly for its veneer of politeness.

Nicklesby blinked. She'd bet he hadn't had much experience with Christophe's form of directness. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.

"Certainly not, certainly not," Nicklesby bl.u.s.tered. "Just-ah, well. Quite right. I see Foster's new partner-vampire, don't you know. I'll just go over and say h.e.l.lo. Lovely to see you."

Before she could say anything, he was gone, practically jogging in his haste to be away from them. She finally released the laugh she'd been holding in.

"How do you do that? Make me laugh when my world is turned upside down?"

"When better?"

He flagged down a pa.s.sing server with a tray of champagne. "When does the ale come through?"

The man shook his head. "Sorry, sir. I'm fond of a pint myself, but this is strictly a champagne kind of event."

Christophe pulled out a crumpled handful of euros. "This purple one is for you if you find me a pint. Find one for yourself, too."

The waiter's eyes grew huge. "Sir, I can tell you're not familiar with our currency. That's five hundred euros. I can't accept that."

Christophe grinned. "I like an honest man. Take it, and see what you can do." He tossed the bill on the waiter's tray and turned to Fiona. "Would you like a gla.s.s of champagne?"

She took a flute off the tray. "No, but I think I'm going to need need a gla.s.s of champagne. Let's just put it that way." a gla.s.s of champagne. Let's just put it that way."

She drained the gla.s.s in three swallows, and the server traded her empty gla.s.s for another and then took off, presumably in search of ale.

"Who is this delicious hunk of man, where have you been hiding him, and does he have a brother?" The voice was instantly familiar, and Fiona whirled around, delighted.

"Maeve! I didn't know you'd be here."

Maeve, dressed in a scarlet gown that set off her dark-haired beauty to perfection, tossed her head. "Saving whales is my life, don't you know? Or is it dolphins? What marine life are we saving tonight? And, I repeat, who is this lovely man?"

Beside Fiona, Christophe stiffened and his eyes flared a hot green for a split second before he bowed to Maeve.

"This is Christophe," Fiona said, not sure what to do about the no-last-name thing.

"I am delighted you brought your new man, Fee. Now where have you been hiding him?"

"He's not my new new man," she said. "He's more my-" man," she said. "He's more my-"

"Her partner," Christophe said.

"Yes. Yes, my partner," she said, grasping the suggestion.

"And her lover," he said, ruining everything.

Maeve made an O with her perfectly red, s.h.i.+ny lips. "Oh, he is a rogue, isn't he? Lucky, lucky Fee. Shall we go and have a girly chat? I'll bring her right back, I promise."

With that, she pulled Fiona off, tightly holding her arm, leaving Christophe staring after them.

"Maeve, slow down. What on earth are you dragging me across the floor for? For Saint George's sake, this had better be good."

Maeve glanced back at Christophe, now a good twenty feet behind them. "Your boy toy there isn't human. Did you know that?"

Christophe carefully unclenched his hands, firmly suppressing his instinctive reaction to fight to protect his woman. They were in the middle of a very public place, surrounded by other humans. Fiona would be perfectly safe talking to her friend, at least for a few minutes, even though Maeve was not human.

Maeve was Unseelie Court Fae.

Powerful, too. Her magic had the feel of ice and darkness. It reminded him of someone he'd met before. Someone he hadn't liked much. It was right there, on the edge of his brain, if he could only think of it. He felt someone approaching him from behind and whirled, hand under his jacket on his dagger.

"Your pint, sir." The man was beaming. "And two more, besides, back in the kitchen. Plus one for me."

Christophe took the pint. "You are an exceptionally fine human being," he said with feeling.

The server, not realizing how literally Christophe had meant the expression, grinned. "Thanks. I still want you to take some change, though."

Christophe drank a long draft of the fine ale and then shook his head. "Not a chance. You earned it."

"Never thought I'd enjoy one of these events," the man said. "I'll be around. Let me know when you're ready for another."

"If I can get away with it, I'll be out of here by the time I finish this one," Christophe muttered.

"Lucky bloke." With a deep sigh, the server was off to foist more of the champagne on other guests.

Christophe returned his gaze to where Fiona was talking to Maeve, and nearly choked on his ale. She was gone. They were both gone. If that d.a.m.n Fae harmed a hair on her head, he was going to murder her, peace treaty or no. He slammed his half-empty mug down on a table and set off to find her, walking fast.

A man swung into his path, moving so quickly that Christophe nearly ran him down. Only Atlantean reflexes saved them both.

"My apologies," the man said smoothly, extending a hand. "Gideon Fairsby."

"Lord Fairsby?" Christophe said slowly, recognizing him from the press conference. He did not want to shake the man's hand, but it would have drawn notice not to do so, especially since they were obviously the center of attention for quite a few groups of partygoers.

He focused on masking his own magic, but the faint, tell-tale giveaway of Fae magic stripped away his attempt.

"As I thought," Fairsby said. "What are you?"

"A friend of the whales," Christophe said, waving a hand at the crowd. "Aren't we all?"

"Don't be obtuse," Fairsby replied in a measured tone. "I know you're not human, but you're not Fae, either. What are you? Not a s.h.i.+fter, to be sure."

"Obtuse. Isn't that a triangle? How can a person be a triangle?" Christophe smiled in mock sympathy. "Too many gla.s.ses of that champagne, I bet. Right, old chap?"

The Fae's eyes flared a hot, molten gold and the monster inside him showed through Fairsby's affable mask. "I saw you at the press conference," he said, suddenly changing the subject. "Why? What is your interest in Vanquish?"

"In what? Aston Martin had a press conference? That Vanquish is a sweet car," Christophe said, beginning to enjoy tying the Fae's guts into knots.

"Not the car, the sword, as you well know. Let me give you a little warning, fool. Stay out of matters that are none of your concern, and leave Fae matters to Fae hands. Do you understand me?"

Christophe glanced around and, seeing that n.o.body was within hearing distance, leaned in toward Fairsby, smiling as if offering friendly advice. Which, in a way, he was. "If any Fae hands hands so much as touch Lady Fiona Campbell or anyone she cares about, I will come for you first. I will rip out your lungs and feed your kidneys to the hounds of the nine h.e.l.ls. Do you understand me?" so much as touch Lady Fiona Campbell or anyone she cares about, I will come for you first. I will rip out your lungs and feed your kidneys to the hounds of the nine h.e.l.ls. Do you understand me?"

Fairsby's eyes iced over, but he laughed. "I have been threatened by far better than you."