Contractor (19 page)

possible. "But my preference has not altered

your decision."

"Eleanor." She forced herself to look at

him. "We’re holding against the sieges in

New York without much struggle, but the

Vorid are closing in from less populated

areas, town by town. Boston is the northern

shield of the east coast. We cannot lose it."

"…I understand."

"Rachel will attend you, of course."

Eleanor nodded. "What are the

arrangements?"

"You’ll enroll at Northeastern

University."

She frowned. "Not Harvard?"

Henry smiled in a way that told Eleanor

he knew something she didn’t. It was an

expression she knew well, and one she found

exceptionally distressing. "There are many

kinds of education. Northeastern is a fine

school."

"I acquiesce to your judgment."

"Good," he said. "I expect excellent

grades."

"I doubt the curriculum will be very

challenging."

"Don’t look down on mundanes. Without

them, we’d still be living in the dark ages."

Eleanor stood. "If you’ll excuse me, I

want to make Rachel aware of our plans."

"Then I’ll meet you in the atrium."

Eleanor gathered her white dress in her

hands, curtsied, and left the room. She didn’t

notice the flowering wallpaper and the

chandeliers that dotted the halls. Opulence

was her standard state of existence. Even the

rainbow-refractions of crystal lighting grew

boring the thousandth time.

The door to Rachel’s room was ajar.

Eleanor slipped inside.

Rachel was seated on the edge of her

bed, idly kicking her legs. The short redhead

was one of the strongest from their branch

family, and Eleanor’s second cousin. For

that, and for being about the same age, she’d

been raised as Eleanor’s attendant and

bodyguard. She also held the higher honor of

being Eleanor’s best friend.

Rachel worked a needle into and out of

a small doll. Various breeds of stuffed

animals lined shelves around the room, or

were piled with pillows; the droppings of

her hobby. She was so intent on her work

that she didn’t notice Eleanor come in.

"Rachel."

Rachel stiffened, then sighed. "One of

these days you’ll freak me into stabbing my

finger." She set the doll to the side. "Don’t do that."

"What, and lose all that fun?" Eleanor

eyed her dress. "That outfit looks terrible on

you. I hate green."

"…I thought it was nice."

"Well, I don’t."

Rachel looked away, then back. "I

thought you were waiting with the

President."

"I came to tell you about our new

posting. We’re moving to Boston."

Rachel nodded slowly. "It’s a bit safer

there."

"Safer?" Eleanor began to pace the

room, her nose stuck in the air. "I don’t want

safe. New York is my home. I love the city.

There’s a dozen colleges I could attend just

in Manhattan."

"Boston will give us plenty of action."

Rachel sighed. "I guess the queen bee is

driven to brandish her stinger."

"What’s that supposed to mean?"

Rachel hopped off the bed and

flourished her sewing needle like a rapier. "I

am Eleanor Astor, defender of earth! Behold

my mighty powers!"

"Very amusing."

"En garde!" Rachel danced forward and

struck at an invisible enemy. "I’ll fence all

the Vorid to death! I’ll take their king one on

one! The amazing Eleanor is here to save the

day!"

"Stop already!"

Rachel burst into laughter and stuck the

needle in the doll. "
Stooop alreeeady
."

"I do not sound like that."

"You’re right. You sound a lot bitchier."

They locked glares for an instant, then

started giggling. They fell side-by-side on

Rachel’s bed. For that brief moment, her

anxiety had flown away, but now it was

rushing back. "I’m just worried about him,"

Eleanor said. "He’s not as young as he used

to be."

Rachel propped herself up on an arm.

Her long red hair fell past her neck. "Your

father," she began, "is the President of the Ivory Dawn. He’s probably the strongest

magician on earth. The last thing he needs is

his little princess worrying about him."

"America doesn’t have princesses."

"Not officially." Rachel sat back. "So.

What are we doing in Boston?"

"Attending Northeastern University."

"That’s surprisingly normal."

"Yes," Eleanor said. "He seemed

particularly pleased with himself about that."

"Getting out of the manor will do us

some good, right?"

"I suppose."

"You’re so high-maintenance. Besides."

Rachel raised her eyebrows. "College means

parties. And boys."

"We don’t have the time or the luxury

for that nonsense."

"Elly. This isn’t the 15th century. Let

your hair down a little. Literally and

figuratively."

Eleanor self-consciously patted her bun.

"I like it where it is."

"Whatever. More for me."

"Slut."

"Stuck-up bitch."

Eleanor snorted. "But seriously," she

said. "We have our duties. It wouldn’t be fair

for the other person in the relationship."

"…a little normality," Rachel said. "It might be good."

"I’ll need you by my side," Eleanor said.

Rachel didn’t respond. Eleanor sighed and

leaned up off the bed. "I should get back."

"Good luck."

Eleanor paused at the door. "How long

are you going to cling to these things?"

Rachel tucked her doll into her lap, as if

protecting it from Eleanor’s stare. "…is it a

problem?"

"Are you making it one?" Eleanor asked.

Rachel lowered her face. Eleanor

couldn’t quite make out her expression. "It’s

my hobby, ok?"

"Yes. A childish hobby."

"What does it matter?"

"You’re my attendant. Your actions

reflect on me. I shouldn’t have to lecture you

about this." Eleanor scratched under her ear.

"Is everything alright?"

Rachel sighed. She put a hand on her

forehead. "Just…forget it."

Eleanor left the room feeling somehow

less comforted than when she’d gone in. But

then, Rachel would see things her way

eventually. She always did.

****

Over the course of ten minutes, the

delegations filed backed into their seats.

After the footsteps and shifting dulled,

Eleanor’s father again took a spot on the dais

at the front of the meeting chamber. "Those in

favor of renegotiating the treaty and

establishing the familiar system, vote green.

Those against, red. Please vote now."

Eleanor braced herself as bubbles of

light appeared over each group.

She sighed. The True Flame, the

witches, and the Wu all voted in favor. They

wouldn’t even have to count—only a few red

orbs dotted a field of green.

"The vote is cast in favor. My daughter

will perform the spell. I will negotiate on

our behalf, unless there is a dissenting

opinion?" No one spoke. "So it is." Henry glanced back at Eleanor.

Eleanor drifted into the center of the

room. She felt the eyes taking her in,

measuring up the likely future president of

the Ivory Dawn. Technically the president

was elected, but the Astors had ruled for

over five generations. What Rachel said

about her being a princess wasn’t far from

the truth—she was more or less next in line.

She concentrated on her soul core. Her

inner power rose up to meet her, filled her

hands with warmth. She spread it out over

the floor, molding a complex summoning

sigil of blue light that she had memorized

over the past few weeks. Accurate mental

construction was critical. Demons were as

unpredictable as they were conniving. She

had to be sure to have firm control over its

presence.

The completed sigil was a pentagram

covered in hieroglyphics. She felt the strain

as she clenched it tight. It was like holding a

plastic bag with too much in it, weight

digging into your fingers. The spell dug

across her soul, the lines constricted about

her power, dragging her down. She resisted

the urge to drop it.

A cylinder of blue light grew from the

floor. It was so bright she had to struggle not

to wince. She hadn’t moved, but her lungs

were burning. She breathed deeply.

The light died. Standing on the sigil was

Beelzebub.

It was roughly humanoid, but its skin

was blood red. Its fingers ended in black

claws. Two white horns curled up above its

skull. It wore a black shirt and black slacks,

no buttons, zippers, or pockets.

There was no question it could beat any

of them in a physical contest, but the real

threat was its sheer magic power. The

ancient demon commanded vast legions

within the depths of Hell. There, its word

was as good as law, and that was saying

something.

Shiny black eyes turned on her. "Eleanor

Caroline Astor. A worthy summoning."

Smoke drifted from its mouth as it spoke.

"Amazing, Henry. All these fools under one

roof and they haven’t torn each other to

pieces? You weren’t exaggerating."

Henry cleared his throat. "My proposal

has been accepted. We would like to

renegotiate the treaty."

"Yes." Beelzebub folded his arms. Or

its arms. The dusty tomes Eleanor had

studied hadn’t been clear if the warlord had

a gender. They hadn’t used a summoning

spell in hundreds of years; their sole contact

was through her father’s communication

spell. "What would you like, Astor?"

"We want to reestablish the familiar

system."

The demon rumbled a thick, fiery laugh.

"Interesting. Normally I’d want something in

exchange…but." It paused. Its eyes studied

the gathered faces. "They haven’t yet entered

our universe. I suspect it’s only a matter of

time. We might as well fight the war on land

that doesn’t belong to us."

Henry nodded. "Have you felt the effects

of the energy loss? Is the prison sound?"

"A few light knocks on a foundation

larger than your puny earth," Beelzebub said.

"But the lack of death is having its impact.

The wheels grind hard when the Vorid steal

the energy away for themselves." It grinned.

"It might please you to know that the other

undesirables are still having plenty of fun."

"Not particularly."

The demon laughed again. "I forget you

humans don’t take as much pleasure in

misfortune. Least of all when you don’t know

them personally. You’re all too apathetic.

You need more passion."

It waved a hand. Another sigil appeared

in the air and expanded rapidly, a massive,

floating construction of burning purple lights.

Parts of the magical treaty were actually

moving, shifting as they watched. It made

Eleanor’s spell look like a child’s toy.

"The familiar system?"

"That is all I dare ask."

"Good that you know your place."

Beelzebub jabbed his finger forward. Some

cosmic key turned, and lines and lights

flashed. Purple spheres danced to and fro.

Part of the treaty sigil rewrote itself. It went

still again, then, and vanished. "It is done."

"Thank you, Beelzebub."

"Anything for you, Astor." It made a

lopsided grin. "Remember not to summon

more than you can handle. Bad things might

happen. I can’t police them all the time, you

know."

"Of course."

Black eyes locked onto Eleanor.

"Release your summons before I break it. I

was with my harem."

Ah. Probably male, then
. Eleanor let the

bag drop from her fingers. The spell slid off

her power, relinquishing its grip. Blue light

glowed around the edges of Beelzebub’s

form, and it faded back into Hell. The

tension in her shoulders faded, but the

meeting was far from over.

"I will now call the Klide diplomat, and

we will address him with our grievances."

Her father withdrew a stone from his robe, a

small, turquoise oval. Unlike with the

demon, there was no special preparation

needed. He simply squeezed its surface.

The ambassador simply wasn’t there

one moment, and there the next. She had no

idea how it could hide its magic like that.

Not even Beelzebub was capable of such a

feat.

Its clothing had changed from the putrid

multicolored pinstripes to something much

more conservative—a simple black suit—

but it didn’t belie the sense of unease the

large red eyes gave her. A frog’s head

perched on that thin body was undeniably

creepy.

It bowed. "Mr. President. Delegates.

How may I be of assistance?"

"Our meeting this day, Xikanthus,"

Henry began, "is due in no small part to your