Asil’s Fifth Date Scheherazade
Asil’s Fifth Date
Scheherazade
I
Two minutes after Asil sent the email refusing to continue the game that had begun with blood and ended in more blood, his phone rang.
He checked the caller ID.
“No,” he told his Concerned Friend.
There was a pause on the other side. “You knew it was me?”
“Of course.” Asil allowed a certain amount of scorn to creep into his voice for the first two words.
Then he sighed deeply. “My friend, I am certain there are a double handful of foolish puppies whom you have wrangled into helping with this. But there is no other person whose every action is an open invitation to Allah or any other Power to come out and play.”
“You don’t sound angry. I thought you’d be angry.”
“How can I be?” he said simply. He stretched out on the hotel sofa. “I have had the opportunity to affect others’ lives for good. The disasters that you create need someone as powerful and intelligent as I am to deal with them. I am, of course, happy to be of service.”
The pause that followed that statement made Asil smile.
“I’m glad you are thinking that way,” said his benefactor. “Because you need to go on this last date.”
“No,” said Asil peacefully, watching the rain pour down outside his seventh-floor window.
It had been a day and a half since his first date with Ruby.
He was to take her out tomorrow. To that end, he’d engaged the penthouse suite of a boutique hotel in the heart of downtown Seattle.
There were taller hotels in the area, but he liked this one.
The walls were thick enough that he could not hear everything anyone did in the rooms next to him, and the cleaning staff mostly did their jobs.
Also the sofa in this suite—where he’d stayed after he left the lioness at the zoo—was more comfortable than the one that he had at his own house. Something he intended to remedy.
“I think it is important.” His Concerned Friend sounded…concerned. “More important than the other dates.”
“Then you do it,” Asil suggested. He was looking forward to his upcoming date with Ruby.
His wolf was not consistently as coherent now as it had been in her presence, but he wasn’t worried he would come to himself in a room filled with dead bodies he and his wolf had left behind them, either. It was a good feeling.
“Me?”
“You are as capable as I am.” Asil considered his statement and added, “Almost.”
“Thank you. And I would.”
“But?”
“I can’t make it to Seattle.” The other’s tone was unexpectedly grim. “In case you haven’t been paying attention, the storm that you drove through Wednesday has been getting worse. Snoqualmie, White Pass, and Stevens Pass are all closed.”
Meaning Asil was trapped in Seattle until they opened again, unless he wanted to travel on four feet—or fly out. It didn’t matter much to him; he was staying in Seattle to have dinner with Ruby.
But his friend wasn’t finished. “As are Lolo, Fourth of July, and Lookout. Highway 2 is closed at Bonners Ferry.”
Asil sat up abruptly. Those were all of his possible automobile routes to Montana. Almost as if something wanted to keep him here.
“That is an awfully large storm,” he said. “No one noticed that it was on the way?”
He didn’t always follow the weather predictions, but he was fairly sure that people would have been talking about a storm that stretched from the Cascades through the Rockies if it had been predicted.
“Powers are at work,” said the other in the sometimes-spooky tones that accompanied the most dangerous times.
Previously, Asil would not have associated danger with dating, but his recent experiences might have changed that for good.
“That is a lot of effort to trap me in Seattle.”
“Ha!” His friend gave a sharp snort of laughter.
“I can always count on you to make it about you, Asil. In this case, I think that the Powers are at work on other matters.” More thoughtfully, Asil’s friend continued, “I thought so, at least. But you being trapped in Seattle might be one of those two-birds-with-one-stone kinds of things.” A pause, followed by a predatory strike.
“Like maybe you should reconsider your refusal.”
Asil pinched his nose until he realized what he was doing and pulled his hand away. He was spending too much time in the Marrok’s presence and picking up his mannerisms.
“Look,” said his friend, soft voiced. “I understand your reluctance. I spoke to Alan Choo earlier today. He told me that your last date might be leading to an actual something. And you owe me for that.”
“Do I?” asked Asil dangerously. “Do I really?”
His friend changed tactics. “Surely she—of all people—will understand if you have one last obligation to fulfill. Especially since your previous obligation was freeing Ruby from servitude. Or from being food. Alan seemed a bit muddled on that point.”
“Obligation?” Asil let his tongue linger on the syllables. “Is it an obligation? I thought these dates were meant to be gifts?”
“I don’t know what to tell you,” his Concerned Friend said—and continued speaking because, of course, that was a lie.
“This morning I started to cancel your date. Before I could hit send, my power cut out and my laptop fried itself. Now, that could be because we are in the middle of the storm of the century over here. But I don’t believe in coincidences. ”
Asil didn’t answer. He remembered the moment on the mountain, the stillness that had overcome him when he’d sensed that he was being tapped for a greater purpose.
He had wanted to assume that purpose had been fulfilled with the unexpected advent of Ruby into his life.
But he was not normally a fool. Over many centuries of opportunity, Allah had never demonstrated overmuch regard for Asil’s happiness.
Asil had always known he was going on this last date, no matter how reluctantly, but he had wanted to make his friend work for it.
“All right,” he said. “But there is a price.”
“Agreed.” No mistaking the relief in his friend’s voice. “I was pretty sure you were going to make me pay for sending you out on these dates anyway.”
“At the end of this, I get to send you on a date.”
“That sounds…fair, actually. Fine.”
“Be grateful to Ruby,” Asil said ominously, “that your just deserts aren’t worse. Tell me where I’m going and when. Remember, please, I am busy on Saturday.”
A sigh traveled to his ear by the magic of the cell phone.
“After the cat fiasco, I canceled everything and went back to the drawing board—for all the good that did either of us. This date is from . Under the circumstances, you will be glad to know that while sex is an option, it is not a necessity. Your date is Mari-Brigid Alvarez, the young and beautiful wife of a very wealthy businessman who is, like Howard Hughes, a man who does not leave his mansion.”
“Where am I taking her?” Asil asked.
“The Winter Charity Ball. An annual event organized by Feed My Sheep, one of those conglomerate charities—though entirely local—supported by other charities and wealthy donors. It claims to benefit the homeless in the greater Seattle area. Approximately five hundred of Seattle’s movers and shakers are expected to attend—tickets are expensive to make it exclusive.
Mrs. Alvarez’s husband started the charity twenty years ago and, though no longer directly affiliated with it, continues to be its largest single donor. ”
“A charity ball,” mused Asil. “Did I not already go to a ball? I am disappointed that you are not more creative.”
“You like to dance and dress up,” his friend said accurately. “You’ll have fun.”
“Is that what I’ve been having?” Asil asked.
“Isn’t it?”
Asil sucked in a breath. “I am not willing to go so far. Let’s agree instead that I have not been bored. But in any case, I did not bring anything formal enough for a ball.”
“I’m having a couple of white-tie-appropriate suits delivered to your hotel room as we speak. Mr. Alvarez sent a photo of the dress his wife will be wearing so you can factor that in when you choose which suit to wear.”
“When is this ball?”
“Tonight. Mrs. Alvarez’s driver will pick you up at seven. Afterward, you both will pick up Mrs. Alvarez at their city condo, which the two of you will return to at the end of the night. Her husband will not be present.”
“That seems…disinterested of him.”
Asil was a werewolf. The idea of sharing his mate with anyone was ridiculous.
“I have no idea,” Asil’s erstwhile friend admitted. “But that’s what the proposal said.”
We do not share, affirmed his wolf. Ruby is ours.
When and if she chooses, Asil rebuked the wolf gently.
She is a person of great discernment, the wolf said. She knows who and what we are. How can she not choose us?
“Asil?”
“Discussing matters with my wolf,” Asil admitted. “That was impolite and I apologize. The last thing I heard was that Mr. Alvarez prefers his wife to sleep with strangers.”
“Talking with your wolf? Really talking?”
“Yes.”
“Congratulations,” his friend said sincerely. “You didn’t miss much. You are required to go back to the condo with her and go in for a drink. For which you are getting paid two thousand dollars.”
“Excuse me?”
“Two thousand dollars.”
Asil didn’t know if he was more offended at being paid or at how little money was on offer.
The soft laugh on the other end of the conversation told him that his friend understood his dilemma.
“You’ll be happy to know that we—in the royal sense—expect that this date will be every bit as interesting as the dates you have gone on already.”
Asil was sure it would be. When he disconnected from his friend, he called Ruby.
II
Asil understood servants in a way that most people living in America at this time did not—including, sadly, the servants themselves. They were, primarily, minions who spied for their owners while doing their bidding.