Chapter 7
Jessie
“Why is Niamh here?” I asked as I adjusted my earring. I could feel her in the main sitting room, one of the few we collectively used. We needed to do something with the other ones but had opted to wait until after the conclave.
“Don’t know.” Austin finished fixing his hair before kissing me on the cheek and heading into the bedroom. He wore a white button-up, with three buttons open to show the beginning of his pecs, and jeans that were somewhat more fashionable than mine.
“Do you think I should put on other jeans? These are more dressed down than yours.”
“I think they’re fine. You look great,” he called.
My red top had a bit of inlaid sparkle to it—a dressy sort of casual to fit Nessa’s criteria—and plunged down toward my cleavage.
A trio of dainty gold necklaces draped across the exposed skin, and diamond studs adorned my ears.
To complete the ensemble, leather boots with pointed toes peeked out from under the cuffs of my jeans.
Mr. Tom was in the kitchen, working on dinner. It was probably why Niamh was allowed to hang out without being pestered to move along before our guests arrived. Surprisingly, he also hadn’t come up to pester me to ensure my outfit matched the brief.
Then again, it was stylish/dressy casual attire. It wasn’t that big of a stretch from normal.
Austin was at the dresser, choosing which watch to wear. I opened my mouth to tell him I was going down, but twinges of unease filtered in through my various connections. For the feeling to pull me out of my daily life meant they were stronger than normal.
I paused, my hand on the door, seeing if the emotional load would increase. That would usually mean danger or an issue.
“You good?” Austin half turned to me.
Instead, the feeling dimmed, if not totally slipping away.
“Yeah.” I patted the doorframe. “I’ll meet you down there.”
“Yup. I won’t be long.”
The hall was quiet, all the doors closed. Ulric and Jasper were in their rooms. Hollace and Cyra currently flew over the town and beyond, checking over the patrols as they made their rounds. Edgar was sitting in the middle of the wood, doing God knew what.
None of them would be attending the dinner tonight, this not being an official meeting.
We’d decided that something informal would be fitting in case the sisters had jet lag, and also to introduce the team that would be helping to style them for the conclave.
Tonight we’d all dress down, and tomorrow we’d have a formal dinner in one of Austin’s restaurants, where we’d show them the glitz and glamour befitting a high-profile situation.
I wondered how the sisters would react to our eclectic crew.
Aljoe said they were open-minded and mostly easygoing…
but that was for shifters. Aljoe was starting over with us on the heels of living in a dirty camp, skating along rock bottom.
He basically took what he could get. I didn’t have high hopes that he was correct in his assessment.
Which made this smaller, mostly “normal” crew tonight a good way for the sisters to get their feet wet.
Nessa and Sebastian were in separate rooms, using the facilities so they didn’t have to go all the way home to freshen up. They could do dressy casual in their sleep.
“Hey.” I walked into the sitting room. Niamh sat in the recliner, flicking through a magazine. She had a beer next to her on the end table, sitting on a doily. “You know Aljoe and them are coming over now-ish, right?”
“Yep. Just waiting for Fred.”
“Right.” I hesitated in sitting down. “Given that you are dressed very casually, you probably need to choose one of the many other rooms to wait. We’re doing that small meeting thing.”
“She’s just being nosy.” Mr. Tom bustled in with a glass of wine. “Here you are, miss. Something to calm your nerves.”
I frowned at him. “I’m not nervous.” I hesitated. “Should I be nervous?”
“He’s talking about whatever ye were reacting to there just now,” Niamh said. “What was it?”
“Oh.” I took the glass and sat on the loveseat. “I don’t know. Felt like unease. It didn’t increase, though. Now it’s dimmed. Someone probably got suspicious of something, but not enough to raise an alarm. Could’ve been anything.”
Mr. Tom stared at Niamh. “Is there a reason you are still darkening this parlor with your presence?”
“Parlor? Look at this now, Mr. High and Mighty.” Niamh took a sip and made like she might get up. “Ah sure, we have time for one more, don’t we? Go get us a beer, would ya, Sir Tom?”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “Why? So, you can hide that God-awful doily somewhere in this room? You weren’t invited here, you lush. Go someplace else.”
“Okay, all right.” I held up my hands. “When Aljoe arrives, Niamh can go then, okay? Let’s compromise.”
“You shouldn’t compromise with her,” Mr. Tom warned. “Give an inch, as they say.” He left the room in a huff.
“What’s got him in a tizzy?” Niamh asked.
“You, I think. As usual.”
Tristan’s footsteps touched down on the walkway.
He stalled halfway, and I worried the gnomes were lying in wait.
Edgar had done a good job keeping everything trimmed and removing all the flowers along the walkway, so the little buggers had nowhere to hide, but they’d started digging trenches for cover. Something needed to be done with them.
Thankfully, Tristan didn’t start running toward the door. Must’ve been something else. Maybe the sound of the golem down the street. That thing needed to be taken for a walk.
The door opened as Tristan reached it.
“Tristan, welcome.” Mr. Tom met him just outside the sitting room. “Coffee? Whiskey? A monetary incentive to kick out the horrible Irishwoman in the parlor?”
“Whiskey would be great, thanks.”
Tristan had on a gray striped shirt, buttoned down to nearly the center of his chest, with three metallic necklaces falling between his pecs.
Metallic bracelets adorned both his wrists, one nestled into a watch with a glittering face and black straps.
He also wore jeans, but his weren’t a run-of-the mill style like mine.
His were light blue in places with stressed colors in others and artful kinda stitching.
They probably cost a fortune. Where my struggle was in dressing up, his was in dressing down.
He didn’t really fit the brief, but I doubted anyone would hold it against him, especially Nessa.
“Hello.” He nodded at me and then glanced at Niamh. “Crashing the party?”
“Not at all.” She flicked a magazine page. “Just waiting on a meeting.”
“Is that right?” He sat with his back to the window, kitty-corner to me and facing Niamh. “And what meeting is that?”
“The kind that isn’t any of yer business, that’s what kind.”
“Oh yeah? The top-secret kind, huh? The meddling kind, maybe.”
Mr. Tom entered with ruffling wings, probably having heard that and letting Tristan handle it. He handed over the whiskey, checked the Spider-Man watch that he’d gotten from Jimmy, and gave Niamh a poignant look before leaving.
“Well, if he won’t serve me…” She pushed to standing and then ducked behind the couch. A cooler lid popped.
“Fabulous,” I murmured before taking a big sip of wine.
“Since you’re here, Niamh.” Tristan took a sip of his whiskey. I felt Sebastian leave his room. “Do you guys have any info on the shifters who would’ve already RSVPed?”
“Loads, but none of them are the big fish. Fred is compiling various spreadsheets with their information, but we won’t need to bother with them.
One thing of note: a dozen of them have reported mage interference at various times, whether it’s mages skulking around or perhaps interfering with shipments—things like that. ”
I lifted my eyebrows at her as Sebastian entered the room. He had his hair styled in a spiky, messy look and wore a deep navy button-down with black slacks, weird, crocodile-looking shoes in tan, and a watch with gold accents.
“Since when is a gold watch casual?” I asked.
Sebastian crinkled his nose at me. “Gold is often casual. It’s just a lot, you know? So, you reserve it for when you’re dressed down to compensate.”
“That doesn’t even make sense.”
Tristan chuckled as Niamh went on. “Almost all of those packs had the activity cease after Kingsley’s thing.”
“Almost?” I asked.
She put up a finger before falling into the couch again.
She popped the top on the can. “Yes. Almost. Two of them are being harassed by mages. I’m guessing these mages aren’t part of Momar’s faction.
Independents. They are squabbling over business and land.
The mages have brought in mercenaries, but the pack was able to fight them off.
They took losses, but they came out ahead. ”
“What scale of attack was it?”
Niamh shook her head slowly. “Minimal. Nothing like Breakable Sue encountered. A bit smaller than what we saw at Drex’s.”
“That’ll be good to showcase at the conclave,” Tristan said.
“It’ll be good to showcase for the mages at large,” Niamh replied. “Hassle the shifters, without protection from Momar, and ye die.”
“Unless the shifters are in the wrong,” I amended.
“Yes, fine,” Niamh replied. “Assuming a group of magical beings that very clearly mark their territory and live by a very strict ethical code, not to mention try to keep magic under wraps from non-shifters, are ever in the wrong when in conflict with mages…we won’t kill the mages. How’s that?”
I pursed my lips before taking another sip of my wine. “It could happen.”
“Sure, yeah. Why not?” Niamh said.
Sebastian chuckled silently and then lost his smile when Niamh looked his way. He turned to study a painting on the wall.
Nessa descended the stairs as Sue and Aurora walked up the path.
“The mercenaries are a problem,” I said, setting my glass down on the coffee table. “We need to find a way to incentivize them to reject working with mages. At least in that capacity.”