Chapter Six #2
On the positive side—if there can be one in a situation like this—once news of the missing child got around our community, all uncertainty about the migration and the situation with the CCA ceased.
In fact, we’ve gotten a substantial number of defectors—townships similar to the one Alistair visited not long ago that have been set up as CCA strongholds but are so aghast by the idea of children being stolen that they no longer want to be associated.
The other side wasn’t thinking clearly when they did this—sure, they needed a dragon, but when you have a population with low fertility and a strong attachment to their children, showing that you’ll use toddlers as tools is stupid.
Aidan Byrne, the shifter species leader and Alistair’s boyfriend, is heading up the team responsible for debriefing the defectors.
The shifter ability to smell changes in body chemistry when people lie is proving useful there.
In just a few minutes, King Raeulfr and Brandt will arrive.
The ceremony we’d discussed is largely redundant now, but we decided to proceed anyway.
If nothing else, it will cement this alliance in the minds of all our people.
And in times of trouble, things like this can be a touchstone—something to cling to.
Caolan comes up beside me where I’m trying to stay out of the way of the audio-visual team as they set up to livestream the event and hands me a protein bar and a bottle of water.
“Thank you.” I lean in and kiss his cheek, and he beams.
Honestly, I think Caolan is the one thing that’s kept me grounded this past week, and yes, I know how absurd that sounds.
But having someone to fall into bed beside, even if it’s just for a short time, has made me more willing to put work aside for sleep.
Plus, during the day as I see how busy he is, how many people need his attention and how little time he has for himself, I find myself making time to ensure he eats and hydrates.
My teammates think it’s hilarious that I’ve never stopped for food breaks myself, but now I’m doing so to feed Caolan.
Of course, as you’ve just seen, he does the same for me.
Andrew (the asshole) calls it our interspecies mating ritual.
Which it’s not. Really. I mean, sure, we “mate” in the sexual sense—after the drought I’ve been through, I can’t imagine being too tired for that—but it’s not a mating ritual in the relationship sense.
Or so I’ll keep telling myself.
I don’t want to worry about that now, anyway. There will be plenty of time to sort out what’s going on between us after the crisis has passed. Our priorities need to be getting the elves and dragons to safety and stopping any and all attempts to take over the world and enslave our people.
“David!” I look over to where Rabhya, the head of our PR department, is waving. She taps her watch, which is her signal that we’re ready to start.
I shove the last bite of my protein bar in, chew, and take a swig of water. “Ready?” I ask Caolan, and he nods.
“Do you want me to leave the portal open while I’m there?”
I shake my head. I know that’s harder for him, and frankly, we don’t know how long he’d have to keep it open for.
The king is expecting him, but with the elven sense of time the way it is, the best indicator of “when” we could give him was “midafternoon.” Even that seemed to confuse him somewhat.
So he might not be ready, and it might be a while before they arrive.
Getting elves to understand the concept of time is going to be a real endeavor. Caolan has been trying, but the current situation isn’t helping any. Most tasks are being categorized as “urgent, do it first/second/third” or “it can wait for later,” which isn’t conducive to maintaining a schedule.
And yes, that has been making me anxious. Very anxious. Lack of a schedule is the first step on the road descending into chaos and anarchy. What’s next, the world runs out of coffee?
Caolan smiles at me one more time before opening a portal and stepping through.
It closes behind him as I suppress a shiver, not wanting the whole room to know how sexy I find his casual demonstration of power—although the shifters can probably smell it.
There are no biochemical secrets when shifters are around.
Sure enough, Alistair slips up beside me, a sly smile on his stupid face. I brace myself.
“Hey, I know you don’t really like surprises, so I wanted to give you some warning.”
Nothing good has ever been said after an introduction like that.
“Surprises are bad,” I say firmly. “Very bad. No surprises, Alistair. I have enough to worry about right now.”
He pastes on an injured expression, which is a good indication that he’s going to say something ridiculous. Learning to decipher hellhound facial expressions is a survival tactic when you work with so many of them.
“That’s why I’m warning you,” he huffs. “So you’re not surprised.” He stops, and I get the impression he’s waiting for… what? Praise? A treat?
I settle for gratitude, although I’m not sure yet if I’m actually grateful. “Thank you.”
He smiles. “You’re welcome. So, we’re having a birthday party for you tonight.”
What?
What?
No. Oh, no. Fuck , no.
“No.”
He nods. “Yes. Happy birthday, by the way.”
“Thanks,” I say automatically. “No party.”
“It’s not up for debate, David. We’re having a party. It’s not every day a man turns… however old you’re turning.”
Do you see how ridiculous this is?
“Alistair—”
“It’s all planned,” he continues happily. “Sam was a bit of a party pooper, but Dustin got really excited about it all, so I managed to convince him karaoke and the smoke machine were a good idea.”
Fuck. My. Life.
“Alistair—”
“And I know now is not the time for us to lose our inhibitions, so no alcohol, not even the human kind. We’ll just have to get high on sugar instead! Andrew was in charge of the cake, so there are like six of them.”
“Alis— Did you just say there are six cakes?”
He nods. “He got a bit excited at the bakery, apparently. Noah was supposed to keep him under control, but he just thought it was funny and recorded the whole thing. You can watch it later.”
There’s a familiar stabbing pain behind my eye.
“While I really appreciate all the thought you’ve put into this”—and I really do. It’s nice to know your friends care—“we really don’t have time for a party. Even one without alcohol.”
“Mmm, I see where you’re coming from, and sure, things are busy right now, but we all knew you’d say that, so I have a message for you from Percy.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a folded Post-it.
Clearly not a long message.
Sighing, I take it, unfold it, and read:
It’s an order.
Yep. This is my fucking life. One of my oldest friends just ordered me to have a birthday party.
Alistair cranes his neck, trying to see what’s written, and I crumple the note and shove it in my pocket.
“Fine.”
His grin is instant and spreads over his whole face.
“Great! You won’t regret this, David. And just think how good it will be for everyone to have a chance to relax and bond.
Think of it like an interdimensional government mixer.
Or a cultural event. Dustin has been asking a lot of questions about birthday parties, and now we can show him one. ”
That almost makes me feel better, until I remember that Dustin’s questions have been mostly about children’s birthday parties.
“There’s not going to be any games or anything, is there?” I try to remember back to my childhood and the games played at parties then but come up blank. Things have probably changed since then, anyway.
“No,” he assures me. “Just karaoke.” He’s half turned away when he says over his shoulder, “And the pinata.”
Of course there’s a pinata. Well, at least that means there will be a stick handy to beat people with.
Before I can call him back and demand to know what he filled the pinata with—you never know with hellhounds—a portal appears in the middle of the room.
Immediately, one of the elves standing near Rabhya opens what Caolan told me is a pinhole portal—about the size of my palm and apparently used for communication and transmitting spells over distances. That’s how the ceremony will be shown to the elves and dragons who haven’t yet migrated.
“Ready?” Rabhya shouts, and there’s a chorus of replies from her team.
Lights go on above cameras, indicating that they’re filming, and at a bank of screens and computer equipment, two people tap furiously at keyboards.
We planned this ahead of time, so Caolan knows to ask everyone on his side to wait before coming through.
Rabhya assured us fifteen seconds would be long enough.
Of course, that meant we needed to demonstrate to Caolan how long fifteen seconds actually is.
“Streaming!” one of them calls, just as two elf guards step through the portal. Perfect timing.
They scan the room, see Garin, Dustin, and some of the other soldiers who are already here, and then step aside to flank the portal.
Next comes Brandt, who smiles and waves…
but unfortunately not at the cameras. He adds a flirty little wink.
I look to see who he’s winking at, and it appears that he’s chosen the one section of wall in the room that doesn’t have a person standing in front of it.
Never mind. People watching won’t know that. Maybe we can start some gossip—he’s very attractive, and everyone loves a good celebrity romance. It can only do this alliance good for people to think the dragon wing leader is getting it on with one of our own, right?
I make a mental note to talk to Rabhya about that.
King Raeulfr steps through the portal, a small, regal smile on his face. He looks serious and intelligent, and he and Percy are going to blow this out of the water. Two distinguished, honorable leaders joining their people for the betterment of existence… it’s a PR dream come true.