The Eldritch Conspiracy (Blood Singer #5)

The Eldritch Conspiracy (Blood Singer #5) Page 17

“Morning, sunshine.” Bruno tried to shake off his weariness for my benefit. He came over to give me a hug and a quick kiss. “Mnn. You taste like peaches.” He licked his lips.

“Baby food,” I admitted, giving him a quick squeeze. “Better than snacking on you guys. What’s up?” I asked. He shook his head. Apparently he didn’t want to talk about it, at least not in front of the others. Okay, we’ll go with a safe topic. “What have I missed?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but didn’t get the chance as Dom Rizzoli tapped me on the shoulder. He’s the only FBI agent I know well enough to be friendly with. Short, dark, and as Italian as pasta, he was wearing his “fedley” suit: nice, dark gray suit coat and pants, white shirt, blue tie, and black shoes with a high gloss.

“We’re on.”

I didn’t want to leave Bruno’s side, but there was no arguing with Rizzoli when he used that tone. Besides, he was most likely in the thick of things, and I needed to know what was going on. So I gave my sweetie another hug and walked over to the video setup. Kevin pointed to a masking-tape X on the floor and I stood on it.

“Good morning, Princess.” On the monitor in front of me, Hiwahiwa bowed at the waist. “It is good to see you well. Princess Adriana will be joining us in a moment.”

I dipped my head and shoulders slightly in return. “And good morning to you.”

“Hello, Celia.” King Dahlmar’s voice. The video screen in front of me now split into four sections. Hiwahiwa was in the upper left, Dahlmar in the lower right. I spotted Creede standing next to him. I hadn’t expected him to be there, but should have. After all, John Creede has saved the king’s tail more than once. It would make sense for the king to call on him for such a special occasion as his wedding.

John’s a handsome man, with a strong jaw and good cheekbones. His eyes are the color of honey, his hair a warm light brown with golden highlights. He keeps it cut short, or it would fall in unmanageable and unmanly curls. His nose is sharp, not quite a beak, though there is something like a bird of prey about him.

“Your Majesty. You look well.”

He made a small scoffing sound that most kings wouldn’t be seen making. “My future wife was nearly killed. Her mother is in the hospital. My country is turmoil and terrorists are plotting. Hardly well, I’m afraid.”

There wasn’t much to say to that, so I didn’t respond. Creede gave me a brief nod. His expression was odd. Part teeth-gritted anger; part sad, puppy-eye regret. He looked good, but like he’d already been through a long day. As usual, both he and the king were wearing splendid suits.

I wasn’t thrilled at my own image, in the fourth segment of the screen. I didn’t look great. Nobody had mentioned it yet, but only because they were all too polite. If it’s true that television adds twenty pounds, I was in real trouble. I’ve been dropping weight for a while because of my nearly all-liquid diet and it was really starting to show. I’d gone from fashionable to gaunt in the last six weeks. But at least I was dressed in my own clothes, which mostly fit. For a moment I imagined what I’d look like in Emma’s duds—we are so not the same size or body type—and my stomach turned over.

Before I could say anything, my image disappeared, replaced by Queen Lopaka’s. That made sense.

She was propped up in the hospital bed. Standing on either side of her, out of the way of the medical equipment, was a pair of her personal guards, looking grim and determined. I understood the grim. I hope the full complement of four were in the room, two out of sight of the video camera. In the background, I caught a glimpse of the aquarium. A pair of angel fish floated next to a seahorse in the blue-tinted salt water, while a starfish crawled up the side wall.

“Greetings, niece, Dahlmar, Mage Creede.” I noticed that she didn’t address Rusland’s ruler as “King.” Well, they were about to become family. First-name terms for her future son-in-law seemed reasonable.

At least I’d finally learned enough protocol to know that when the siren queen addressed me as family, I was supposed to do the same. “Good morning, Aunt Lopaka, I’m glad to see you up and about.” I was. She didn’t look good, but she was alive and upright. And if she was online, she was out of ICU. Chances were good she’d recover fully given a bit of time.

“Thanks to you in great part. Without your warning I’d be dead. As it is, I believe I may actually wind up with scars to rival yours.”

Hiwahiwa’s image was replaced with that of the queen’s daughter. As always, Adriana was a vision of auburn-haired beauty. Today she was wearing a raw-silk suit in forest green, a cream-colored blouse, and emerald jewelry. She made me feel like a toad. She looked directly into the camera and for some reason I was sure it was my image she was staring at. After a moment, her eyes went distant and I knew she was having a vision.

I’d been with Adriana once before in a vision. She seemed to work best when helped through the images. I wasn’t sure anyone else had noticed her going out of focus, so I held up one hand to keep the others from speaking, leaned forward slightly, and said, “What do you see?”

“You have … fangs, and scars.” Her voice was gentle and floaty.

“I do. Is that important?” Most of the worst scars were covered, but the tank top I wore under my blazer had a scoop neck that didn’t completely conceal the claw marks where a demon had gone after my heart.

I motioned to Bruno for a paper and pen and waved at Hiwahiwa to come closer to the camera. I wrote down a message on the pad Bruno handed me and held it up for Hiwahiwa to see. Put a cool, wet cloth against the back of her neck.

It had worked before to help Adriana out of a vision. Because, realistically, we didn’t have all day for her to get lost in her head. Hiwahiwa leapt to obey. She pulled the scarf from around her waist, quickly wet it with some water from a pitcher, then carefully placed the damp scarf against the neck of her princess.

Adriana laughed abruptly, coming back to herself in a rush. “Oh! I’m such a fool.” She was talking to herself, so I didn’t answer.

“Adriana?” Lopaka’s voice was both sharp and concerned. The queen warring with the mother.

“I’m sorry, Mother.” Adriana turned slightly, addressing the image of her mother, I suppose. “I just realized it hasn’t been Celia in my visions. So many visions since I met her, but not her. It’s someone who looks like her, but without the scars or fangs.” She was having a hard time containing her happiness, which was a little weird considering the circumstances of the meeting, but probably made perfect sense to her in terms of the vision.

She turned to Hiwahiwa and touched her shoulder. “The cloth helped.”

The secretary looked startled that Adriana had touched her. She bowed her head and was modest. “It was Princess Celia’s idea, Highness. I was only the instrument of her instruction.”

Adriana looked at the camera and smiled. “My thanks once again, cousin.” I just nodded. She could have thanked Hiwahiwa, too. But it wouldn’t do any good to step into that mess. I’d learned long ago that Adriana considered her staff mere tools, whereas I thought of them as closer to friends. Of course, Adriana had touched her, which is something I’d never seen her do. Maybe I was rubbing off on her or maybe she was preparing for her new role as queen. Today’s royalty have to be more hands-on than in the past. Princess Diana changed a lot of things.

“I see.” Lopaka obviously didn’t, but she wasn’t about to let a little thing like a vision derail this meeting. She spoke briskly, in a tone that made it clear she wasn’t interested in anyone’s reaction to what she was saying. “Celia, I know you are going to object, but as your queen and your aunt, I insist that you have a security detail, at least until after the wedding.”

“No.” My voice wasn’t angry or insulted. It was just firm.

She tried reason again, maybe understanding she had no real way to make demands of me. “You have been specifically targeted by terrorists because you are a member of our family. They may also have seen, as our prophets have, that you are instrumental in keeping Adriana alive and seeing her safely wed. So, object if you must, but I’m going to insist that you have at least one agent with you at all times.”

I opened my mouth but was preempted.

“I agree,” Dahlmar said firmly. “The wedding must go forward as scheduled. We cannot show any sign of weakness. But Celia’s life is too important to be risked needlessly. She should be guarded as well as the rest of our families.”

Adriana was nodding wordlessly.

Maybe reason would work in reverse, too. “What you’re asking simply isn’t possible, Aunt. I appreciate the sentiment. I do. But the roles of protector and protectee are very fixed. Adriana saw me as part of her wedding party in the role of a protector. I’m happy to take that role because it’s what I’m trained to do. But I cannot be watched and guided and followed at the same time, just as you could not be both queen and waitstaff at the same dinner. If I’m guarding Adriana, I cannot allow anyone else—including another guard—to be close to her. The risk might be from the guard—intentional or not. Can you see my concern?”

Lopaka entered my mind, and her voice was the angry sound of chimes caught in a hurricane. Celia, don’t be dense. This is another situation like the one at the shop. The eyes of the entire world are on us. It is necessary that you be publicly acknowledged as the valued member of the royal family you are. You must have the same kind of protection as any other member of the royal family. I will advise my head of security to assign someone you approve of to work with you and to help you select a team who will facilitate your work in protecting my daughter. I must insist on this.

I didn’t like that but there had to be a solution that would satisfy everyone. Give me a moment to think.

She turned so smoothly to address her daughter that I doubted anyone knew she and I had spoken privately. “Adriana, I know you did not want to leave my side in the hospital, but I appreciate you making that sacrifice. Queen Chiyoko…” She let the sentence go unfinished. Probably best. I’d met Queen Chiyoko, another of the siren royals, from the Pacific Rim siren clan. From what I’d seen, there wasn’t any nice way to finish a sentence about her. Maybe she was a terrific ruler. I didn’t know. I did know she was arrogant, ambitious, and wanted to see me dead.