“Don’t bother. Give me the name of the restaurant. We’ll come to you.”
“Emma Landingham is with me.”
I heard muttering in the background but couldn’t make out the words.
“Get rid of her. We’ll be there in five minutes.” The phone clicked off.
Get rid of her. Gee, how charming. Even worse, having experienced the way Creede drove, I knew they’d be here in four. The waiter I’d flagged approached the table as Emma emerged from the restroom. “Ms. Landingham is leaving, but I have other friends coming. Could you please bring me the bill and a large soda?” Time to get off the sauce. Yeah, it might not affect me like it did my mother, but that could change in an instant. I didn’t want to be hooked if it did.
“Certainly, ma’am.” He turned and hurried off.
“I’m leaving?” Emma gave me a look of alarm. It took me a second to realize she probably thought I was upset about her job.
“It’s not about you working for Seacrest.” I tried to force myself to smile. It felt like my face was breaking and probably looked like a grimace, but it was the best I could do. This wasn’t about Emma. It wasn’t. “I’m glad you found a great job. I know you’ll be good at it.” I blinked back tears and swallowed hard against the lump in my throat. Damn it! I’d been doing so good just a second ago. “Keep in touch. You can always e-mail or text me. I want to know everything. Honest. This won’t change a thing between us.”
“Celia—”
I shook my head mutely, fighting for control. “Really, this isn’t about you. I’ve got to get my shit together, Em. I’ve got a situation at work.”
She paled a little. Hanging around with her older brother had taught her enough “tough-guy speak” to know just how bad a “situation” could be.
“Are you up for that? I mean—,” she stammered, afraid of having misspoken yet again.
I gave her a wry smile. “Doesn’t matter if I am; I don’t have a lot of choice. Creede will be here with the client in just a couple of minutes.” I tried to make light of it. “Nothing like a little panic to take your mind off a breakup. Nine out of ten dentists surveyed said so.”
“Celia—” She stared at me, her mouth moving with no sound coming out, not knowing what to do or say. She knew I was messed up. She’d been around since Bruno and I were together the first time and had watched when I dissolved into Jell-O when he left. That was the thing. It wasn’t that he left me. It was that he left me twice. Both times without even giving me a chance. I could tell that she felt helpless. Emma was my friend. Maybe not my best friend, but dammit, she was trying; I loved her for it.
“I’ll be fine, Emma.” I stood up and gave her a hug. Honesty compelled me to add, “It just may take a while.”
She sighed and gathered up her things. “Fine. I’ll go. But be careful. And I’ll be watching the mirror for you.”
Ah, the mirror. After Vicki’s death, Dr. Scott had given me back a magically crafted mirror that had been my final birthday gift to her. It was a very powerful focus. Since I’m no clairvoyant, it was useless to me, so I passed it on to the person I thought Vicki would want to have it. Emma might only be a level four, but with a focus that powerful she’d probably be able to keep an eye on me.
I made a little face. I didn’t want to offend her, but that wasn’t a good idea. “I’d rather you didn’t. I don’t want any client confidentiality issues.”
Her eyes rolled expressively. “I know how to keep a secret.”
“Please?”
She gave me a long look but didn’t answer, just sighed and left. Whether that meant she would or wouldn’t keep tabs on me I had no clue. I trusted her, but there are legal and ethical considerations.
More important, I’d never forgive myself if I dragged her into the middle of another one of my problems. She’s an adult, but to me she’s always been Warren’s baby girl and Kevin’s little sister. They’d never forgive me if anything happened to her. Whether the constant crises in my life were generated by the death curse, my career, or just bad luck didn’t really matter as far as this went. My life was dangerous. I didn’t want her getting hurt.
I hadn’t been able to protect my sister, and I might never know for certain whether or not Vicki’s death was a direct result of the mess that had ended with the demon being vanquished in Anaheim. But they were both dead, and I didn’t want to lose Emma. So I’d be careful. Of course Emma would probably like that about as much as I would.
Ah well. She’s been mad at me before. Would be again. It’s that kind of relationship.
I didn’t have long to think about it because just then three very familiar men walked into the restaurant. The minute I saw them, I knew I was in trouble.
King Dahlmar of Rusland is an attractive man. Not young, but holding up well, with dark good looks and more than his share of charisma. All of the other times I’d seen him he’d been expensively dressed, impeccably well groomed, and surrounded by the extremely big, threatening men who are the royal equivalent of the Secret Service. Tonight he was incognito, wearing a pair of cheap jeans of such a rich indigo blue that they almost glowed. Vertical and horizontal creases screamed “fresh off the shelf.” A bright red Mickey Mouse Disneyland T-shirt, sneakers, and the sort of cheap sunglasses made famous by ZZ Top made him look like a tourist who’d lost his luggage. He also looked as if he hadn’t slept in far too long—his face was pale and haggard. But the oddly cheerful clothes and his poor physical condition couldn’t hide the rage in his every move. At his side was the retainer who’d saved my butt a few weeks ago and who’d been trying to reach me ever since: Ivan. He was injured. I could tell because he was moving oddly from pain and trying not to show it. Been there, done that.
Pain or no, he was all business. He scanned the room, looking for threats, keeping his body between Dahlmar and the restaurant patrons until he was reasonably sure they were safe. Creede did the same on the king’s other side.
Looking at them, I knew that this was real, serious trouble: trouble I was probably not equipped to handle. For all of ten seconds I thought about leaving, saying no and walking away.
But King Dahlmar’s intervention was probably the only thing that had kept me from being locked away for the rest of my life. I owed him. And everything I’d seen, everything I’d read about him, had told me he was a good man and a great king for his people.
“Ms. Graves.” Dahlmar slid into the booth across from me and finally took off his sunglasses, revealing dark circles under his eyes that made him look like he’d been beaten.
Creede took the next table over, far enough away that I couldn’t feel his magic but close enough that I couldn’t help but smell his cologne. The last thing I wanted to do was enjoy the scent, but my nose wouldn’t cooperate with my injured heart. He just flat smelled good. It actually started to piss me off.
I shook my head to clear it and saw Ivan move to stand at the pay phone near the bathrooms, where he could discreetly cover most of the room. It’s exactly what I would have done and it eased my anger, leaving my head sort of empty. Numb was a good place. I decide to ride it for as long as I could.
“Your Majesty.” I forced myself to smile. “May I recommend the egg drop soup or the kung pao chicken? They’re quite tasty. You look like you haven’t eaten for a while.”
He grimaced. “No. I haven’t.”
“Well, the food here is quite good. And you need to keep your strength up to deal with whatever is going on. I’m guessing it’s your sons?”
He sighed heavily, absently tapping his knuckles against the table. “My son Kristoff has staged a coup d’état. I escaped with my life, thanks to a core group of my men. Rezza did not.” There was a pained pause. Rezza was . . . had been the crown prince. Kristoff was the younger son. While Rezza had been more hard-core religious than his father, they both shared a deep love of their people and truly believed they knew the best way to lead the country into the future. Kristoff didn’t have a deep love for anything except himself. More to the point, he was stupid. Even his father admitted it. Stupid people make bad rulers.
I opened my mouth to voice my condolences, but he waved me to silence. When he spoke again, his voice was flat, inflectionless. Just the facts. “Thus far, no word has leaked out and Kristoff has been using demon spawn as impostors to maintain an appearance of normalcy. As he is neither cunning nor strong enough to manage something like this on his own, there must be someone else behind this.”
I knew all about demon spawn. The products of humans breeding with demons, they were born without souls and with the magical abilities of their demon parents. A spawn could change into an exact replica of anyone, right down to the cellular level. My last job—the one that left me with fangs—had been to guard Prince Rezza. Only it wasn’t Rezza but a demon spawn. I’d been really angry when I’d talked about this in group. I’d guarded a demon spawn . . . how laughable! Guarded it against what? An angel? That was about the only thing that could hurt them.
I shook my head with both weariness and frustration. Kristoff didn’t realize what kind of dynamite he was playing with. He might think he was in control, but it was an illusion. A demon spawn will turn on you in a red-hot minute. “So they’ve taken your country from you and you don’t even know who the villain is.”
“Yes. But our advantage is that they must kill me and make it look like an accident. I don’t plan to give them that opportunity.”
“Why do they have to kill you? They’ve got the country. You’re on the run and powerless. Rezza’s dead. Why not just announce that Kristoff’s in charge? There wouldn’t be much you could do about it.”
The waiter started toward our table, carrying a water glass and a menu for my companion. As he came near, Dahlmar’s expression changed, as if a switch had been hit. One minute angry, deposed monarch; the next, pleasant dinner companion. While a part of me had always known a ruler needed to be a good actor, it was disconcerting as hell to watch.