Dramatic Exits
The last event of the weekend goes mostly as Starla predicted. One large exception occurs when Councilman Taylor ushers everyone outside as the sky is manually darkened above the east gardens.
The stars are vibrant, even if the night is fake, and twinkle lights spark to life to the chorus of oohs and aahs that Starla told me to anticipate. The garden now houses several towering evergreens bedecked with baubles and color-coded themed ornaments on each.
But, instead of snow beginning to fall, Councilman Taylor steps in front of the crowd.
“I have an important announcement. It is my pleasure to share that my daughter, Starla, is engaged. While the happy couple are having a small, private ceremony in the near future, there will be a public wedding to which you may all expect to receive invitations.”
Near future is one way of putting it. Try this evening, so his daughter can’t find a way out of the arrangement. Or so he thinks.
There is a polite smattering of applause and some calls of congratulations for the happy couple as Piers leads Starla to the front of the crowd until they’re standing next to her father.
I look around to see how Exos is taking the fake news.
It’s one thing to know what we’ve got planned but another to have to witness it.
My texts yesterday were less than detailed, since we weren’t sure how talks would go with the groom this morning.
The gargoyle is nowhere to be found, and I smile to myself.
If he’s stealing information from the councilman’s office for us while the warlock in question is out here celebrating a victory, that would be poetic justice.
Unfortunately, Jackal is out here. And I’ve had no chance to tell him what is coming next.
“Before we continue the festivities, I am pleased to announce another piece of excellent news. As some of you are aware, I am fortunate to have not just a daughter, but a talented nephew as well. Claude?”
The warlock raises his glass to Councilman Taylor.
“Not as great as you yet, Uncle, but doing my best.” The two chuckle, as if they’ve been bosom pals their entire lives.
Whispers break out, and from the snatches of conversation I hear, the news of the familial relationship is shocking to man of them as well. I suppose Councilman Taylor has chosen to charge forward with the information, and treat it as though it’s not novel in any way.
The sheer level of deceit here is enough to bury a person. I’ll be happy to be rid of it.
“Claude has also chosen to take a bride, and some of you may have had the honor of meeting her this weekend. A gifted siren and my daughter’s dear friend, Carolina.”
Claude presses through the crowd, grabbing my hand and leading us to the front without even a word to me.
The crowd applauds again, some craning to get a good look at me.
It’s not as if they’ve all had the opportunity to get to know me, but Councilman Taylor’s mention of my abilities has likely lifted a few curious ears.
I stare out at the crowd as Councilman Taylor finishes his speech.
“For now, please enjoy the rest of the festivities. Happy Christmas.” He lifts a glass, and now the snow does begin to fall. The flakes are soft and white, but not cold.
Fake.
Just as fake as everyone here.
As I scan the people gathered, I see Ji-hwan lifting his glass to me, a merry smile on his face. Feral is even off to the side of the crowd, conversing with a random warlock and looking unbothered by the news.
But Jackal is genuine.
He keeps up the act, but his eyes glow, a beacon that I can’t help following.
He’s looking in my direction, but his gaze lingers on Claude as the warlock puts an arm around my waist and squeezes me close to him.
It’s highly possible that Claude has signed his own death sentence, at least if we don’t get out of here before the vows.
As the last guests leave, we are ushered upstairs by a few maids. The councilman personally invited a few people to remain for the event, and I note that Ji-hwan, Jackal, and Exos did not warrant an invitation.
“I’m sure we’ll see them again soon,” Starla says when I point it out.
The maids are monitoring us, but I catch her intention. They’ll be waiting when we leave.
Feral did snag an invite on the coveted guest list, although I think that’s just so Councilman Taylor can get back in the Founder’s good graces after the garden-fire debacle.
I have no idea what details Feral gave the councilman regarding his entirely fictional business deal, but he must have dangled something very tempting indeed.
There are four warlocks outside the room when Starla and I reach it.
“Dennis, we’ve got to stop meeting like this,” Starla flutters her eyelashes at Councilman Taylor’s favored muscle.
He sneers.
“You’ll be off to your husband’s house soon—and out of the councilman’s hair. Have you any idea the resources that man has wasted on you over the years?”
“Enlighten me,” Starla challenges.
Dennis presses his lips together and Starla shrugs.
“No matter. I’m worth every single one, I’m sure. And now I’m going to be married into one of the most powerful families in England, and you’ll still be here running errands for the councilman. Who’s superior in that situation, do you think?”
He steps close to her, blocking the door. One of the maids gasps, but the other men don’t stop him. They wait to see what he’ll do.
“You know nothing about it,” Dennis says, reaching behind him for the door handle instead of getting any closer to Starla.
“I know more than you think,” she counters. “Certainly more than you.”
She struts by him, nose in the air, and he just can’t seem to help himself.
“This was always the eventual outcome. The councilman has had eyes on you for your entire life, long before things escalated in Carolina Beach this past year. He’s never approved of your behavior, but you outdid yourself.
Cavorting with shifters and gargoyles and that ridiculous hyena hanging all over the naiad.
Your little friend is lucky the councilman still felt she was worth his time after all that.
Then, to top it off, you nearly get yourself killed.
That messed things up good and proper, but he’s got you under control again.
You should be grateful he’s found you somewhere you can be kept in check. ”
Starla doesn’t even spare him a glance.
“Thank goodness for my loving father. That will be all, Dennis. I’ll see you at the ceremony. Or will I? Did you warrant an invitation? Going to be tossing flower petals in front of me as I walk down the aisle?”
I follow her into the room, hardly daring to breathe.
As soon as the door slams behind us, Starla turns to me, expression steady but eyes a flickering riot of blue that glows and dims.
She sucks in a breath but doesn't dare speak anything out loud.
The look is enough, because we must surely both be thinking the same thing.
He knows. Councilman Taylor knows much more than he let on. About the relationship with Jackal, and perhaps Starla’s with Exos. About the witch almost getting killed by Leon.
It’s also confirmation that he was well aware of Leon’s activities. No wonder he was so pushy getting Starla here now. He wanted her out of that situation and married off.
Maybe to save her, but more likely to prevent losing an asset. And he got me in for the bargain. By monitoring us he probably learned the extent of my powers and decided they were worth the trouble of bringing me in, along with his daughter.
I’ll bet Grammy Pearl never told him a darned thing, and like a fool, I went along with things thinking she had.
I’m tempted to be annoyed at the seer for her vagueness before our departure, but we’re no fools.
We should have listened to what she did say, and trusted our instincts when they told us Councilman Taylor was suspicious.
No doubt, he intends to use me. Or Claude does. Now that they’re aligned, I suppose it amounts to the same thing.
I will never be a weapon for you or anyone else, I vow.
My actions call me a liar as I allow the maids to help me into an ivory wedding dress.
Starla dons one as well. Hers is a ballgown style.
A witch is brought in to touch-up the tattoo covering and ensure the blue in her hair is gone as well.
Her cheeks are brushed with pink blush and her eyes with natural eyeshadow.
She looks like a fairy princess. I imagine she hates it. They even add more extensions to her hair so that blonde waves trail several inches below her shoulders in a half-up hairdo.
I’m zipped into a column dress that is undeniably beautiful, my hair put in an updo. They bronze some areas around my face to accentuate my cheeks.
“Done,” a maid announces as they finish clearing out boxes from the new clothes and shimmering heels we’re wearing.
“Get us something to eat,” Starla commands the women. They look at one another uncertainly.
“We’re supposed to stay here,” one says.
“In case you need anything,” says another.
To monitor us.
Starla rolls her eyes.
“What I need is food. And also to power up my magic. Please fetch me at least a few dozen clams or oysters still in the shell.”
“I’m not sure if we hav—”
“It wasn’t a request. Find them.”
A few of the ladies get up to leave, but two maids try to stay.
“We’ll wait here in case–”
“I will need water from the nearest lake, creek, or river,” I say.
“I—. Why?” one of the maids asks.
Starla pulls herself up to her full height. Admittedly not much, but her eyes glow.
“Because she is a naiad, and we will be honoring her customs. Or should I tell my father and cousin that you refused his bride?”
The last two ladies scamper out of the room.
“Now it’s just our four pals out there,” she says as the door begins to slide closed.
“Five,” I correct, seeing another man at the doorway, talking to Dennis and the others.
Starla sighs, pretending to roll up her sleeves.
“Well, what’s one more?”
“What are you planning exactly?”
“You won’t like it,” she warns. “But don’t even think of singing. A tired witch is better than a dying naiad.”
“Starla, you can’t possibly be thinking of—”
“Carry me. Library, remember?”
I have just a few moments to recall the passageway out, and start thinking of how far we are from that room, when Starla lifts her hands.
“Yet again, I’m thinking it’s a good thing I spent time studying spells, even though I’m rubbish at them,” she mutters before unleashing light from her hands.
There are several hard thumps outside the door, and one in our room.
“Starla!”
The witch has managed to place herself in front of a dressing table, so at least she’s fallen into a chair. Her eyes are fluttering, and she’s losing consciousness.
“I hope Dennis has a black eye when he wakes up,” she says before passing out.
I leave the witch for only a moment, checking the door. All five men are passed out. But who knows for how long, or how fast the maids will return. They might even send more people to monitor us while they’re getting the food Starla asked for.
I have no idea how I’ll make it, but I have to try.
First, I kick off my heels. They won’t do me any good. I put the shell necklace back on, so I don’t have to worry about keeping track of it while holding the witch. I can’t carry our bags, but I do stuff both our phones down the front of my dress. Uncomfortable but effective.
I scoop Starla into my arms, step over an unconscious Dennis, and run down toward the stairs.