Dead Man's Deal Part 12

It was a struggle to push my grumpy att.i.tude aside. Trixie was strained with worry and fear. I was beginning to think that even in my sleep-deprived state, it would have been a better idea for me to drive. She was. .h.i.tting the brakes at the last possible second, as if her mind wasn't fully aware that her body was driving.

"Did you have any problems last night?" I asked, causing Trixie to jump. We had been quiet since I'd slunk into the pa.s.senger seat, not even daring to turn on the radio.

"Nothing other than Bronx's snoring rattling the windows this morning," she complained, but there was no venom behind the comment. "We stayed up watching old M*A*S*H and Great American Hero reruns. I left him curled up in the shower with a pile of blankets."

I smiled at the image. It had to be a tight fit and couldn't be particularly comfortable, but the bathroom was the safest room in Trixie's apartment since it had no windows. I'm sure Bronx was fine though. The troll slept like the dead and probably wouldn't stir until sunset.

"After this meeting, we'll grab some food to drop off to him before heading into the shop."

"You think we're going to have any customers today?"

I sighed, placing my travel mug in the cup holder. "I have no idea, but we'll probably get busy soon."

Trixie paused, her eyes on the road in front of her as she exited the highway onto the off-ramp. "Did you have any problems last night?"

"A couple," I admitted, praying that she didn't press me for details. She already had enough on her plate.

"Did you talk to Sofie?"

"Some. She had a small problem herself, but she's fine now. Last I saw, she was sprawled across my bed like she belonged there. I swear, I think she's happier as a cat."

"Doubtful." She eased to a stop at a red light, her driving smoothing out as she neared our destination.

"What's not to love? She sleeps most of the day, has food brought to her, and everyone that sees her rubs her head. h.e.l.l, being turned into a cat is starting to sound pretty good."

Trixie narrowed her eyes at me, but I could see her fighting to hold back her smile. "If it happens, I'll be sure to have you fixed immediately."

"That's cold, woman! You should never talk about cutting off a man's b.a.l.l.s."

The smile she had been fighting slipped forth as she pressed the gas, sending the car across the intersection. "I think it might be a good idea for the king and I'm sure the queen would agree with me."

I leaned forward and grabbed my mug. I drained the last of my coffee, grateful that the wheels were starting to turn a little. "I think I've got some pruning shears somewhere at the shop. Just a quick snip."

"For you or him?"

"Him," I growled, earning me a low chuckle that sent a ripple through my stomach. If we survived all this with the elves, Reave, and the Towers, I swear I was going to lock this woman in some secluded spot with me for a week, and when we were done, we weren't going to be able to walk right for a G.o.dd.a.m.n month. Trixie had a way about her that wiped every sane thought from my head.

Winding through the park to an empty row of parking spots, Trixie settled her little green hybrid between a silver minivan and a black sedan baking in the sun. She turned off the engine and dropped her hands into her lap as she stared straight ahead. I reached over and twined my fingers through hers on her right hand, drawing her gaze up to me.

"We're just meeting to talk," I said calmly, as I placed my sungla.s.ses on the dashboard. "Get a little information. I'll be there the whole time and I'm leaving this park with you beside me."

She nodded, forcing a smile onto her lips. I took in her brown hair, brown eyes, and lovely heart-shaped face. She was putting on the glamour spell out of habit, whether she needed it or not. The human version of her was beautiful, but it rankled me at the same time. It wasn't Trixie. It wasn't the green-eyed vixen that I loved. "I think it's safe to lose the spell. I'm sure the queen would appreciate it."

Her smile wavered a bit, but with a blink of her eyes, the spell faded away to be replaced by a vision of blond hair and green eyes.

"We should get going. I'd rather not be late," she murmured as she leaned in and pressed a kiss against my cheek. I released her hand as we got out of the car, but grabbed it again when we started toward the park and the man-made lake with the geyser-like fountain in the center. The area surrounding Mirror Lake was open with neatly trimmed green gra.s.s and a scattering of flower beds showing off the last of their summer blooms. There were a few people jogging around the lake and a few others walking their dogs, but otherwise the park was quiet in the warm afternoon sun.

"The gazebo," Trixie said with a jerk of her head toward the far end of the park.

I squinted against the sun glinting off the water as we turned toward the gazebo. "It's been a while since I was here. I don't remember that." The small open building was painted white with a blue roof and was surrounded by a profusion of flowers. Within the shadows of the gazebo, I could see a few figures, but I couldn't tell how many.

"I wouldn't be surprised if she had it built for today's meeting. She is the queen after all."

"True." I gave her hand a little squeeze. "How many are here?"

"Other than the queen, twenty-three. All guards."

"I don't think she could fit twenty-three guards in that little gazebo with her," I said with a grin.

"There are three guards in the gazebo with her. The rest are spread around the park, hiding just past the tree line."

I suppressed a s.h.i.+ver, clenching my teeth. I couldn't see them and I wasn't even sure that I would be able to pick them out using magic. Elves were one of the few races that I hadn't had a lot of experience with. After the Great War, they kept a distance from the rest of the world, particularly warlocks and witches. I couldn't help but wonder if I had found yet another way to get in over my head.

Trixie's pace slowed as we reached the small stepping-stones leading up to the gazebo. She tightened her grip on my hand, her touch growing cold. The guard at the entrance to the gazebo glowered at us, his hand resting heavily on the short sword that hung at his hip, before he stepped aside. Gazing in, I found two more guards standing on either side of a lovely woman seated on a cus.h.i.+oned bench near the back of the structure. She was partially hidden in shadows thrown down by a nearby bank of trees.

As Trixie lifted her foot to the first of two steps leading up to the gazebo, I placed my free hand against her stomach, halting her. "Wait," I said under my breath as I sent a small spell swirling about the gazebo, checking for other spells the elves might have used while unraveling any glamour cast on the area. To my surprise, there was none.

"You don't trust us?" asked a melodious feminine voice.

"It's not that I don't trust you. It's that life has taught me to be cautious, Your Majesty," I said with a bow of my head toward her.

"That is fair," she said in an even voice. "Please, enter so that we may talk."

I dropped my hand from Trixie's stomach and allowed her to enter first. The guard moved back to the entrance behind me as I stepped before the queen. Seated on a bench with white and pale yellow cus.h.i.+ons, she appeared to be quite young, with soft blond hair piled high on her head with jeweled clips. She had the same green eyes as Trixie, but the queen's were cold as they looked us over, while Trixie's seemed to twinkle with laughter. Her wispy dress was an ice blue, lending her a cold air. Was she as cold as she seemed? Had she been like this before her husband had started chasing after Trixie? It would explain a few things.

Trixie deeply curtsied before the queen while I dipped into an awkward bow that caused her to give a little giggle as she picked up a delicate cup and saucer from a little table near her knee. "How refres.h.i.+ng! A warlock paying me court," she said before taking a sip of her tea. "I'd almost be willing to brush this all aside to have you wait on me every day for the rest of your life."

I clamped my mouth shut, tapping down a dozen different comments, ranging from informative to snide. None of them would help and Trixie didn't need more problems heaped onto her.

The queen took another sip of tea before placing the cup and saucer on the table again. She turned her gaze on Trixie, her eyes narrowing as she examined her from head to toe. Trixie had chosen to wear an ankle-length floral skirt and long-sleeved blouse that made her look extremely delicate and feminine. It was the most conservative outfit I had ever seen her in and she looked beautiful. Unfortunately, I didn't know if that would help or hurt her.

"You've gotten lovelier," the queen announced, folding her hands in her lap. "I think I shall take some pleasure in seeing my dear husband's face when I tell him that I not only saw you but that you've gotten even more beautiful since you were last with the court."

"Please, Your Majesty," Trixie said, tightly grasping her hands before her. "You must believe me. I don't want him."

"Oh, I believe you," she said with a cold little smile. "It's the only reason I haven't sent my own guards to kill you. Allowing you to live out of my husband's grasp is a far more exquisite torture for him than him believing you dead."

"Don't you think enough lives have been disrupted and destroyed by this little game?" I demanded before I could stop myself.

The queen looked up at me, her smile growing even frostier. "I bow to your wisdom on that point. Only a warlock would know what is enough when it comes to destroying lives."

I inwardly cursed myself, the Towers, and the elves. I should have kept my mouth shut, but it had become apparent that I was going to have to answer for the crimes the Towers had committed on the elves.

As the queen turned her attention back to Trixie, her smile dimmed. "You realize I did not have to agree to this meeting. I could have killed your brother when he requested it. When you arrived, I could have had you killed, and that would have ended my headache after too many long years. I still might."

"Ah . . . but you have agreed to the meeting," said a man as he leisurely strolled past the guards and into the gazebo. "And at such a horribly early time of day." I twisted to watch him walk behind Trixie and me before stopping next to the queen's little bench. His dark blue eyes drifted over me for only a second before settling on Trixie. He gave a small, distracted smile. "h.e.l.lo, Ro."

"h.e.l.lo, Lori," Trixie said with a soft catch in her voice. Tears s.h.i.+mmered in her eyes and it looked like she was struggling to stay standing still when she badly wanted to launch herself at the newcomer.

I took another look at him. He didn't look like an elf. While their paleness seemed healthy and glowing, his was powdery. His pale blond hair was fine, almost like feathers on the top of his head. He was also soft and round, where the elves were all slim and elegant. But there was a grace to him, as if he were trapped in perpetual slow motion. He wasn't an elf, but I was willing to bet that he was fey.

Despite the growing heat of the day, he wore brown slacks and a pale yellow s.h.i.+rt under a heavy green corduroy jacket, while a blue-and-black scarf was wrapped loosely around his neck. He was reminded of pictures of bohemian artists lounging along the Seine in Paris or even the descriptions of the old Romantics who were troubled with the same soul-weary ennui as Byron.

"It's good that you could join us," the queen said a bit frostily.

Lori shrugged, unperturbed by her mood. "When I heard that little Rowena was stopping by, I knew that I had to get a peek at her." He tilted his head to the side a little as he looked at Trixie. "You haven't changed."

"Nor you," Trixie said, her voice growing firmer.

"You seem eager to help Rowena with her little problem," the queen interjected into the conversation, her crisp tone chilling as she fixed her narrowed gaze on me.

"Yes." I waited, wondering what price I would have to pay for the slaughter of her people by the Ivory Towers. And while she was busy taking her pound of flesh from me, would she punish Trixie as well for the trouble caused by her husband?

"Then, since I was so pleased with the feeling of you bowing to me, I think you will be my servant for the day," she announced with a growing grin. My eyes darted to Lori, weighing his sudden appearance at her side, standing close at hand like a servant waiting to do her bidding. Was that how he had gotten ensnared? Promising to serve the queen for a day?

When I looked back at the queen, her smile was positively sharklike, as if knowing where my thoughts were traveling. Trixie grabbed my hand, squeezing tightly, but she didn't argue. Not too rea.s.suring, but at least I didn't have to fight anyone. "What are my tasks?" I asked.

"Nothing much," the queen said. Her small hand drifted back to her teacup, her finger sliding around the rim. "I've decided that I would like some mint for my tea. You will fetch it."

I nodded, stopping myself from thinking that the task sounded easy enough. "Fine. I know a shop not far from here that sells fresh mint. I'll-"

"No need to travel so far," she purred, her voice seeming to warm for the first time. "I have a friend who lives in a house at the edge of the park. She grows many useful herbs. You will fetch me some fresh mint from her."

I hesitated, meeting Trixie's wide eyes. My heart pounded at the idea of leaving her alone with the elves. She had spent so much time on the run from them, surviving on her own. I hated the idea of abandoning her in their midst with no one to watch her back. "And Trixie will be safe?"

"No one will touch a hair on her head while you are gone." The queen was too eager to agree to Trixie's safety, which only failed to rea.s.sure me. But there was nothing I could do. I had to play along with her little game if we were going to reach any kind of agreement that would end the pursuit of my girlfriend.

"Where's the house?" I asked.

The queen gave a little wave of her hand. "Lori will escort you."

The pale man sighed but ambled around the gazebo and down the steps. He paused, and stared up at the sky with a grimace at the sun before reaching into one of his jacket pockets and pulling out a folded, floppy straw hat. Plopping it on his head, he continued across the park.

I gave Trixie's hand one last squeeze before I followed after Lori. A couple jogging steps allowed me to catch up with him and then I had to reduce my natural pace since the man walked so d.a.m.ned slow. It was as if nothing in the world could make him want to rush.

"You've known Rowena a long time?" I said after several minutes of silence as we cut across the large open area in the center of the park.

"I saw her born," he said, and then smiled a little. "She was my student for a time. She loved watching the stars with me."

"You're an artist?"

For the first time, his features crumpled a little as he looked over at me. "Of course." He said this as if that was the only thing he could possibly be. His face smoothed out again like gla.s.s and his voice returned to its dreamy state. "She spent years drawing vines and curling leaves, trying to breathe life into her art."

"Are you an elf?"

"No. My people are called Lorialets."

"Fey?"

"Not really," he said with a slight shake of his head as he paused at the edge of the sidewalk. He looked both ways and waited for one distant car to pa.s.s us before he continued across the street. "But we prefer to be with the fey. They understand us."

"I've never met a Lorialet." But I had heard of them. I had thought they were a faery tale, a crazy myth. Lorialets were also called Lunatics, but with the current connotation of the word, I didn't think he'd take the other name as a compliment. Lorialets were supposedly the children of Selene and Endymion. They were moon gazers, dreamers, poets, musicians, and seers of the past and future.

"There aren't many of us."

"Because of the Towers?"

He paused in the middle of the sidewalk and tilted his head a little to the side in thought. "No," he slowly said. "There were never many of us to begin with, and the Towers have never taken much interest in us."

I could guess why. Every time he spoke, his voice was soft and distracted, as if his mind were only half on where he was at and what he was doing. He'd drive any warlock or witch insane within a few minutes with his slow, plodding ways.

"Will the queen keep her word and not allow Rowena to come to harm?"

"She has no plans to physically harm our little Rowena," he said on a sigh.

His choice of words didn't rea.s.sure me.

"At the moment," Lori continued as he stopped in front of a large two-story home of dark red brick with black shutters, "our lovely queen is telling Rowena who you are getting the mint from."

"You know whose house this is?"

"Oh, yes. Her name is Demoiselle Noire de Gruchy and I think you will find her quite interesting."

"I don't care about this lady. I need to get back to Trixie," I said in a strained voice, glancing over my shoulder toward the gazebo. Regardless of what Lori said, I didn't trust the queen.

"You should definitely care," Lori said. I looked back at my companion and there was something in his eyes as he glanced from me to the house that made me pay attention to my surroundings.

A cl.u.s.ter of magpies roosting on the roof and in the trees in the little front yard had grown silent the moment we stopped before the house. I could feel all their eyes trained on us, watching and waiting. The house looked like any other, but there was a faint tang of magic in the air. It was old, as if years of magic use had settled into the earth and danced on the wind like particles of dust.

Lori sighed and frowned. "She will not be pleased with me," he muttered to himself as he reached inside his trouser pocket. He pulled out a little gla.s.s vile with a cork stopper and handed it to me. "Dab a little on each eyelid. Quickly. Do it now."

I pulled out the stopper and sniffed the liquid. "Dandelion water?"

"Yes, please hurry." Despite the intensity of his words, his tone retained its usual dreamlike quality.

I spread a little over each eyelid, smearing it in so that it didn't drip into my eyes. Blinking a few times, I shoved the stopper into the bottle and handed the vial to Lori. As I looked around, I found that everything looked . . . exactly the same. Dandelion water was supposed to help you see through glamour and keep you from being ensnared by the fey.

"Nothing has changed," I said.

Lori smiled and gave his little shrug. "I am as you see me. Nothing more. But it will help with her. Don't tarry too long. The sooner you're back, the better it will be for everyone." I opened my mouth to ask about Demoiselle Noire de Gruchy but Lori held up a hand, stopping me. "I can say no more. I've already helped more than I should."

That's what I was afraid of. I was lucky that he'd helped me this much. His fondness for Trixie was forcing him to give me what little a.s.sistance he could, and I appreciated it. With a brittle smile, I turned down the walk and approached the house. The magpies watching me erupted into loud chatter, as if excited that a new fly had fallen into this mystery woman's web.

The lawn was neatly trimmed without a single stray branch or fallen leaf in sight despite the trees being full of birds. Mums bloomed in the beds along the house and the walk was edged with chest-high hedges. I paused before the front stairs, my right hand hovering over the hedge nearest me. There was a tingle against the palm of my hand and I almost laughed. Noire de Gruchy had hawthorn hedges. How convenient. My wand was made of hawthorn.

Kneeling down, I carefully reached in past the long thorns and broke off a branch. I quickly pulled off the excess shoots and thorns, before shoving the stick in my pocket. It wouldn't be half as strong as my own wand, but it would give me a little bit of a boost and more control, which I was sure would be helpful against whoever this b.i.t.c.h was.

Armed with a pseudowand and dandelion water, I mounted the stairs and knocked on the front door. A gust of frigid air swept out of the house and bit into my bare arms as the door swung open. I flinched, falling back a step. The day was warm for early September, but not warm enough to have the air conditioner cranked to late-July levels.