The Eldritch Conspiracy

12

“I really appreciate this, Emma.”

“So you’ve said … repeatedly.” She smiled to take the sting out of the words. “Seriously, it’s all right.” She handed me a nutrition shake. “Drink this. You’re glowing.”

She was right. I didn’t feel vampy, exactly, but I wasn’t myself, either. I’d been hungry back at the police station and while I was waiting for Emma to come pick me up. Now, back at her new home, not so much. Still, I twisted open the bottle and drank as Kevin shoved past me into the main living area.

I flinched. He was really pissed and not even trying to hide it. I hadn’t expected him to show up, but he and Emma had arrived in his big truck and Emma had given me a this-wasn’t-my-idea look as they pulled up to where I was sitting and watching cops and civilians flow in and out of the precinct house. The ride back to the old church had passed by in a silence cold enough to frost the windows of his truck. Emma might not mind my being here. Her brother obviously did.

The second I stepped into the living room Kevin turned to me, his expression granite. In a flat yet furious voice he said, “Computer, big screen, channel six.”

At the far end of the room, the television came on. The perky brunette and her silver-haired coanchor wore grim expressions as film of the front of the destroyed bridal shop ran in the background, immediately followed by photos of King Dahlmar and Princess Adriana.

“A terrorist group calling itself the Guardians of the Faith has used various social networks to claim responsibility for the attack.” A close-up of a screenshot appeared; the group’s avatar was a blue-green S bisected diagonally by a bloody harpoon. I’d seen that symbol before, but couldn’t remember where or when.

I pummeled my brain, searching for the answer as the anchorwoman droned on. “The group has vowed to continue the violence against all sirens unless King Dahlmar breaks off his engagement. Our sources say that the governments of all three nations are treating this as a credible threat.” An image flashed onto the screen of a note written in a foreign language, accompanied by photocopied pictures of Lopaka’s face, Adriana’s, and mine, all marred by black “X” marks.

My stomach heaved and I locked my knees to keep from swaying on my feet. It’s one thing to hear you’ve been targeted. It’s quite another to see it in color on the big screen.

“Damn it, Kevin!” Emma was seriously pissed. Her eyes were blazing and there were two spots of color on her cheeks. “Was that necessary?”

Her brother was perfectly calm. Smug, even. The bastard. “She wasn’t taking it seriously enough. She never does. She brought you into it without a second thought.”

Emma rounded on him in fury, hands balled into fists at her sides. “You didn’t have to do it that way. You were deliberately brutal and callous and you know it.”

“Celia’s tougher than you give her credit for. Quit treating her like a fragile snowflake.” Kevin made a disgusted noise and stomped over to fling himself into a recliner. Emma led me to a nearby chair, where I sat down hard and lowered my head into my hands. Above and around me, I heard Emma and her brother arguing and the television playing sound bites of statements released by the Ruslandic and Siren ambassadors, but nothing really sank in. Terrorists. I was being hunted by armed, organized, freaking terrorists.

“She needs to know what you’re risking, having her here,” Kevin said.

Emma glared at him. “It’s my choice to make,”

He slammed a fist down on the armrest, causing his assistance dog, Paulie, to raise her head just a bit. “It’s unnecessary. There are other places she can go. Places that won’t endanger you.”

Keeping Emma safe had always been Kevin’s main priority. It was why he and his father had served me up as bait for the insane siren, Eirene, a serious misstep that had cost me my friendship with Warren and nearly cost me my life. But Emma had grown tired of being babied. She was a grown woman now, capable of striking back and of making her own decisions.

“Not tonight, she can’t. The cops took her guns as evidence, remember?” Emma argued. “Bruno can’t get into her office until morning.”

He can’t? Why not? I opened my mouth to ask, but she’d moved a step forward and was pointing a finger at her brother’s nose. “Celia’s staying here until the sun comes up, and that’s final. This is my home and it’s my choice, Kevin. Mine. Not Daddy’s, not yours. Mine.”

“I don’t like it.” He probably meant having me here. Then again, maybe not. Having Emma stand up to him probably wasn’t a happy development in his life.

“You don’t have to.” Emma met his gaze without flinching. Points to Emma. Kevin was maybe a step and a half from going wolfy. His eyes were glowing amber and I swear his teeth looked sharper than normal. He was clenching and unclenching his fingers around the arms of the chair. It might have gone further if Paulie hadn’t placed herself between the two of them and started barking.

Kevin glared at the dog and she sank into a sit. But she didn’t move out of the way, just stared at him with those huge brown eyes: calm, trusting.

He sighed and closed his eyes.

“I’m going to go outside and calm down.”

“Good idea.” Emma’s words were crisp. “Meanwhile, I’ll fix us all something to eat.”

“Come on, Paulie.” Kevin strode through the living area to a side door, the dog at his heels. I couldn’t help but heave a sigh of relief as the door closed behind them. Kevin was not himself. Not at all. Maybe being out in quiet and moonlight would help. I was betting he’d go to the little walled cemetery on the west side of the building. I’d wandered through it when I’d visited before and seen that it really was old, two hundred years at least. Where the stones could be read, they told of the missionaries who founded the church and of their very first converts. They’d probably been such true believers that there wasn’t even a single ghost left to haunt the place. Hopefully the graveyard would be peaceful enough to soothe Kevin’s troubled soul.

I stared at the door for a long moment. “Do you think you should call his Vaso?”

It was Emma’s turn to sigh. “Wish I could. She had to go out of town for a few weeks. Her mom’s dying of cancer.”

Well, hell. “Can we send him to her?” I asked hopefully.

Emma shook her head. “He can’t travel when he’s like this. Certainly not this close to the full moon. Once that’s passed, in a couple of days, he’ll be better. He always is. Now, you settle in and watch the news. You really do need to know what’s going on. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.”

I checked my watch, then said, “Computer, big screen, channel ten, please.” Since Channel 10’s nightly newscast starts at ten o’clock, I’d be able to catch the beginning of the report.

It didn’t hit me as hard the second time. I sat in the recliner, watching the images on the screen and mentally going over everything I knew and suspected. Which wasn’t much. I needed more information.

I called out to my hostess, who was cooking scrambled eggs in the kitchen. “Emma, do you think Kevin could set up a secure conference call for me?”

“Probably. The question is whether he will.” She came in, carrying a plate that smelled like heaven. The eggs were runny, but there was cheese, and she’d brought along a couple of jars of baby food. “But it’ll have to wait until morning in any event. We don’t have all the equipment he’d need. How many people would be involved?” She handed me the plate. “Eat.”

I ate. When I’d finished, I called Special Agent Albright and got not only the numbers I requested, but an update.

They’d put an aquarium in the queen’s room at Adriana’s suggestion. Her royal majesty was conscious and improving. She was still in intensive care, but the doctors were hopeful. The princess was already on her way back to Serenity. Apparently Chiyoko, the siren queen of the Japanese islands, had managed to scrape up a quorum and had called an emergency meeting of all of the siren queens. Adriana was going to attend on behalf of her mother.

I asked Albright about traveling to Serenity with the princess, but she rejected the idea.

“You have other things to do.” Her voice was calm, but was rough around the edges. People who didn’t know her might think none of this was bothering her. I guessed it was.

“Like what?”

“I need you to convince the other bridesmaids to remain in the wedding. Her majesty’s assistant has scheduled a dinner for the three of you tomorrow evening after their afternoon television interviews have finished.”

Oh goodie. I was going to get to spend time alone with Olga and Natasha. “My job is to protect the princess.” I said it, but I knew I was fighting an uphill battle.

“It was an order, not a request.”

Of course it was. The question was whether or not I was going to obey it. I might technically be a siren—and technically, under Lopaka’s rule—but I was born and raised an American. I am not good at taking royal orders.

Please, Celia. I heard Queen Lopaka’s voice very faintly in my mind. She sounded weak and very tired. I thought about her lying in the hospital bed, maybe still in the ICU, worrying about her daughter, her throne, and the public humiliation she’d face if the wedding didn’t happen, or even if the bridesmaids bailed from fear of the terrorists.

She was my aunt, and she’d said please. “All right, I’ll do it.” And I would. But I wouldn’t be happy about it.