Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Abi
Beckett led the way down the stairs and to the front door, opening it to reveal Gandalf/whoever, letting me get a full view of the unlikely visitor.
His magical vibe was further solidified by his silk robes—black with silver and gray accents and patterns.
The only thing that besmirched his appearance were the blue backpack straps that he absently fiddled with.
The backpack straps looked out of place given their modern and youthful look on such an aged and magical being.
“Beckett Kinge!” The elderly man/wizard declared. “I was told after I saw your sour face in a photo I’d recognize your expression anywhere. He was right!”
“Paragon,” Beckett said, his voice and expression guarded. “What brings you here?”
“A mutual friend, and the opportunity of a lifetime,” said the… Paragon?! He pushed his glasses up his nose and peered at me. “And who is this?”
Beckett shifted his weight so he partially blocked the Paragon’s view of me. “This is Abi, she is my employee and under my protection.”
I peered around Beckett’s shoulder and waved. “Hello.”
The Paragon beamed at me. “Hello, dear! Delighted to meet you. Now. Beckett. Aren’t you going to invite me in?”
Beckett tilted his head as he thoughtfully studied the Paragon. “Abi,” he said, his voice casual. “You should know that the Paragon is the top fae in the nation.”
The Paragon shook his finger. “The top fae representative. I just represent the fae on a national level.”
Beckett waved his hand in acknowledgement at the Pargon, but still directed his next comment to me. “Do you still think we should invite him inside?”
“He’s a supernatural,” I said. “That means you have to decide. That’s why I got this video doorbell installed.”
The Paragon squinted at us. “Wow. Talk about an unsociable couple.”
“We’re an employee and employer,” I pointed out.
The Paragon looked like he had plenty to say in response to that, but Beckett cut him short.
“Come in, Paragon. We’ll take him to the library, Abi,” Beckett said.
I wasn’t sure when it was decided that I got to be part of the welcoming committee, but I was nosy enough to be interested in finding out why someone so important was visiting Beckett—who was attempting to be the world’s first secret shut-in vampire.
So I backed up and held out an arm to gesture which direction we were heading. “This way, Mr. Paragon.”
The Paragon switched back to a gleeful smile as he slipped past Beckett. “Just call me Paragon. And thank you, Abi. I didn’t catch your last name—”
“You don’t need to know it.” Beckett closed the door behind the Paragon, then met my gaze. “As a reminder, Abi, the Paragon is a fae, so you should be careful what you say around him.”
“Understood,” I said.
“I’ll have you know I have the reputation as being downright decent for a fae.
” The Paragon pouted and turned back to Beckett, giving me a look at his blue backpack—or rather the contents of his backpack, as the backpack was made of a clear plastic bubble shell it wasn’t a backpack at all, but a pet carrier with air holes punched in the side.
Inside the pet carrier was a pink skinned, hairless cat that had an incredibly wrinkled forehead and appeared to be portly enough to make me reevaluate the Paragon’s strength as he easily carried the chunky cat on his back without the weight affecting his posture.
The cat blinked at me, then gave me a trilling, “Mmmert?” as its tail formed a question mark-like shape.
“Whatever. Just follow us to the library so we can expedite this visit and finish as quickly as possible,” Beckett said.
“Hmph,” the Paragon said, turning back to me. “At least you know how to make your rude statements sound polite.”
We took the Paragon to the library. He looked around the room and nodded in appreciation, which was probably high praise for someone of his position but I’ll admit privately that to me, the peasant, it didn’t seem like nearly enough respect for the gorgeous room and the countless books it held.
So I paused by a bookshelf and patted it to reassure both myself and the library while Beckett fiddled with the lighting and the Paragon carefully took off his backpack/cat carrier and set it on the floor with the cat facing away from us.
Beckett motioned for me to stand at his side, then turned his attention back to his esteemed guest. “You made it inside, Paragon, so if you would please cut to the chase and state the reason for your visit?”
I joined Beckett, more than a little curious as I looked back and forth between the two powerful supernaturals as Beckett once again edged ever so slightly in front of me in a protective gesture.
I’d be tempted to say the gesture means more than the surface level protection he’s offering, but that’s probably overly optimistic of me.
I smiled briefly at Beckett before I noticed the Paragon rifling around in the folds of his fancy robes.
“What brings me here… is… this!” The Paragon whipped something out of a pocket, and by the time I realized it was a phone, the Paragon said “Smile, please!” before his phone flashed and produced the camera clicking noise that meant it had taken a photo.
I blinked in surprise. “A photo?”
Beckett pinched the bridge of his nose and temporarily displaced his glasses. “Our mutual friend wouldn’t happen to be Killian Drake, would it?”
I leaned into Beckett to ask, “Who is that?”
“The Eminence of the Midwest,” Beckett said.
“That means nothing to me,” I said. “Is he a member of your Crusty Old Man Club?”
“The what?” The Paragon guffawed.
Beckett sighed long and hard. “Yes.”
I nodded my head. “So he’s a friend.”
“No,” Beckett said.
“Loosely interpreted,” I added.
“Not in any interpretation,” Beckett corrected me.
The Paragon waggled his phone at us. “Say what you will, Killian Drake badly wanted a photo of your house manager, Abi. Bad enough to offer me a favor if I managed to grab a photo of you two.”
Again, I peered up at Beckett. “You’ve talked about me in your Crusty Old Man Club?”
Beckett growled. “I might have mentioned you.”
“Whatever for?”
“Because you’re the first human to find out the truth about me in decades,” Beckett said.
“Oh.” I paused, inexplicably disappointed with this very reasonable explanation. I cleared my throat, then refocused on the Paragon. “I thought you said it was a mutual acquaintance and the opportunity of a lifetime,” I said.
“Yes,” the Paragon preened as he looked at his phone, most likely studying the photo. “The opportunity of a lifetime for me. It’s not every day I get the chance to put Killian Drake in my debt.” He finally put his phone away. “You really sparked his curiosity, you know. Isn’t that interesting?”
“I’m more interested to discover that Killian can ask the Paragon of America to do his bidding for a mere favor,” Beckett wryly said in a very obvious insult.
The Paragon sniffed. “I’ll have you know he only asked because he already knew I’d be in the area. Roughly.”
“Where are you headed?” I asked.
“Farther north, to Timber Ridge,” The Paragon brushed his silvery mustache. “The Night Court is taking a bus load, and the Day Court is tagging along since they’ve got a serious case of FOMO—that’s fear of missing out in case you didn’t know, Beckett, since you’re so old and all.”
Beckett slow blinked at the fae who could have easily passed for a hundred years old. “I’m starting to understand why Killian complains so much about having you camped out in his city.”
The Paragon happily continued. “I’ve been to Timber Ridge myself before, but I thought it might be a kick to go with a bunch of fae.”
“Timber Ridge,” I sifted through my knowledge of Wisconsin. “Is there something special about that city?”
“It’s werewolf run,” Beckett explained. “The Northern Lakes Pack owns a great deal of the businesses within the city, and they use their supernatural race as a tourist attraction.”
The bulk of this conversation was going way over my head, but I was guessing it was better to let things go than to invite further conversation with the dangerously witty fae, so I just politely nodded. “I see.”
“Anyway, I got my photo so I best be going,” the Paragon said as he started rifling through his robes again. “But I do have a parting gift.”
Remembering Beckett’s warning to never bargain with a fae, I worriedly glanced at Beckett.
“No, thank you,” he said.
The Paragon jutted out his lower lip, looking comically pouty for a man of his years. “Oh come on. This is not sneaky fae trickery, it’s a gift to reset the scales, so to speak.”
“So we’ll be on equal terms since you took our picture to get that favor?” I guessed.
The Paragon beamed. “Exactly! Are you part fae? You are admirably crafty.”
“We’re not taking this gift unless you say we owe you nothing for it,” Beckett flatly said, likely wanting to use the fae inability to lie as insurance.
The Paragon rolled his eyes. “Fine, fine. I promise this gift is my thanks for letting me take the photo and will not in any way put you or Abi in my debt. No strings attached. Satisfied?”
Beckett nodded.
The Paragon hoisted a slightly crumpled red paper bag out of a new pocket. “Here, your gift: tea leaves.”
I’d heard enough about fae celebrities thanks to my younger sister to have heard they were crazy about tea, but the tea still seemed like an odd gift to give a blood-drinking vampire.
Beckett reached out to take the bag when a slightly muffled “Mmmert,” drifted out of the pet carrier.
The Paragon immediately crouched down next to the bag. “Yes, Aphrodite? What did you say?”
He named his hairless cat Aphrodite?
It seemed like an… interesting choice. I snuck a peek at Beckett, who also appeared to be having similar dubious thoughts.
The Paragon unzipped the bubble backpack, and the cat popped her pink head out of the bag. She twisted around to look at Beckett and me. Blinked. Gave us another “Mmmert,” then hopped out of the bag with an admirable amount of agility.
She was even more comical to behold when moving as her legs were stick small in compared to her girth, but she purred loudly. When she wandered in our direction I crouched down and held out my hand and she sweetly butted her hand against it.
I scratched her under the chin and behind the ears, and while she seemed to enjoy my attention, she also eyed Beckett like an eagle-eyed teacher studying a new pupil.
After a couple more moments of purring she turned and walked back to the Paragon, who gave her a syrup-y sweet look.
“Yes my beauty? What are you thinking? Might I also pet you?” He held out his hand and made a sad noise when Aphrodite walked past his hand.
The sad noise turned into a strangled noise when the cat hooked her claws on the lapel of his robe and yanked hard, then popped her head into the folds of his robe.
When she emerged, she dragged another paper bag—this one was a slightly darker shade of red, closer to maroon—out of his robe.
“Oh,” The Paragon said, his voice ringing with surprise. “Oh,” he repeated. “You think this tea would suit them better?”
Aphrodite dropped the bag at his feet, gave him a “Mmert,” then jumped back into her carrier, disappearing from sight.
The Paragon zipped up the pet carrier, stuffed the previous paper bag back into a pocket of his robe, picked up the cat-selected bag, then straightened to his full height. “Well! You two should feel absolutely honored! Aphrodite herself has deigned to choose a tea for you!”
I nodded—it made sense that a fae obsessed enough with tea that he carried it around in his pockets would have a cat who would be able to read a person’s… personality? Being? Whatever it was, she studied us and was able to decide what we needed. “That’s very kind of her.”
Beckett, however, looked pained as he reached out to take the bag. “Your cat picks tea?” he said, sounding doubtful.
(I didn’t get what there was to be doubtful about. He’d witnessed the whole process!)
“Why are you okay with this?” Beckett asked.
“Because obviously she’s a magic cat,” I pointed out.
“I am absolutely touched,” the Paragon declared. “You know, it’s not often I encounter someone who so quickly understands her.”
“I see what’s happened here—you accept this because you don’t know all the ins and outs of supernatural culture. Allow me to explain. That cat is not magical,” Beckett said. “There’s no such thing as magic cats any more. She’s just owned by a nutcase.”
“Beckett, I understand your desire to be blunt but there is such thing as going too far,” I said.
Beckett furrowed his forehead. “Why am I being punished for being the sound minded one?”
I ignored him and turned back to the Paragon. “Can you tell us what this particular kind of tea is?”
“I could,” the Paragon said as he picked the pet carrier up and carefully shouldered it. “But it will be more fun if I don’t and you two discover it for yourselves.” He winked, then sashayed toward the door.
Beckett and I followed behind the Paragon, until Beckett handed off the paper bag of tea to me.
“Would you mind storing this in the kitchen—in a place where one of the contractors won’t accidentally find and use it?”
I nodded. “Of course. It was lovely to meet you, Paragon, Aphrodite.”
The Paragon stopped at the front door and turned around to smile at me. “It was a joy to meet you, Abi. I hope we meet again!”
“You won’t,” Beckett firmly said.
I smiled and made a U-turn, heading for the kitchen with the tea.
The Paragon and his cat were certainly an interesting pair, and gave me a unique look at supernatural society. But what most interested me was this Killian guy—one of the members in Beckett’s text group.
I guess it wasn’t surprising that Beckett had mentioned me—at least not in the framing he’d cited, that I’d discovered his vampiric nature.
But it was interesting to find that someone in the text group cared enough about him to want to know what I looked like.
(And obviously knew Beckett wouldn’t send a picture himself, or had already asked and been denied.)
Even if Beckett didn’t have friends locally, he did have other supernatural friends who lived elsewhere. This Killian obviously lived in the middle of supernatural politics and happenings, based on what the Paragon and Beckett said.
Which meant Beckett’s desire to stay out of supernatural politics was so important to him that he would settle away from his friends and live a solo life stuck in this vast mansion just to avoid it.