Sleight of Hand (35 page)

She settled down and started working through the emails. “Yeah, but it’s still nice of her to let us use the place. She likes you.”

“Yes. You seem to get along well with her,” I said noncommittally.

“Yes, but—”

“And Matt too, from what I understand.”
Bullseye!
Tullah actually blushed.

She hurriedly changed the subject. “I meant to say, if you want, I’ll help today, I’ll do the driving. I really want to see the dress.”

I grinned. “You’re on. You’ll have to bring your camera. My mom is going to need pictures to prove it’s real.”

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

I can sense the sun slip down, not in the failing light, but in the weakening of the million certainties that have kept me at bay. Under the cold stars, jabbering hind-brains let me be.

How does it FEEL? It is the adoration of multitudes, it is strength, it is the desire of strangers and the fear of those that know. I catwalk to the reception area, enjoying the heads that turn. The midnight green silk billows with my movement.

The doorman is too stunned to take my ticket. I press it into his hand and run a shiny green gloved finger down his slack jaw. It has a nice line.

I pass through the scanners, but my weapons are not metal.

Inside, Jen turns to me, blue eyes wide. “Amber,” she says, and that’s my name, but is it who I am?

It’s not a cheek she’s offering and I kiss the soft tension of her neck. I can hear her heart leap to my touch and her pulse beats like a butterfly against my lips.

What am I doing? Stop it!

“Hi Jen, how’s it going?” I managed to wrench it back.

She gasped and pressed her hand to her chest. “You gave me such a shock,” she replied, blinking. She took a step back and looked me up and down.

“Oh, my God, Amber,” she said.

“You like?” I smiled, held my arms out and turned slowly on a heel, trying to shed the über-vamp aura. That poor doorman. Poor Jen, for that matter.

“Amber, I like. It’s divine. No, it’s—”

“It’s not fair, because you always look so elegant, and all you’ve ever seen me wear is jeans and a T.” Jen was wearing a strapless red silk dress—a simple, classical look that she made special. “You’re looking wonderful.”

I’d left a kiss of peach lipstick against her neck, but I noticed she wasn’t rubbing it off.

“Who did your hair?” she said. My hair, normally simply tied back, was too short for anything elaborate like Jen’s Grecian pile. It had been left straight with a slight curl to frame my face.

“Klara—that’s Werner’s wife—and Tullah. They fussed over me the whole afternoon.”

“It works well,” said Jen. Someone came up and murmured to her.

“We’re sitting together at dinner,” said Jen, “so I’ll see you shortly, but I’ve got to welcome the delegation. Oh, if anyone asks, just say you’re doing some security consulting for me.”

I squeezed her hand and made my way in, leaving my stole and slinky gloves at the coat check.

From my bag, I took a small headset. It looked like a cell phone system, but it was a comms link to Victor’s guard outside. I’d been so fixated on my effect on the doorman, I hadn’t looked around to check he was in place. I flicked the switch and carefully looped it over one ear, avoiding the earrings I had borrowed from Lisa.

“Reynolds, this is Farrell. You awake out there?”

“Yes, ma’am.” I could hear the smile in his voice. “Nice entrance. Very discreet.”

I chuckled. “Guilty. I’ll check the comms from time to time. Talk to you later.” I slipped it back into my bag.

My sister was standing with her back to me, talking to a group near the bar with Taylor beside her. I had said I would see her before the ball, so I walked across.

The silence and turned heads alerted her. She swung around, her face as blank of recognition as Taylor’s.

“Hello, Kath,” I said.

“Amber? Christ! You…oh, everybody,” she cleared her throat, “this is my sister, Amber.”

“Just Amber,” I said to the man on her right, who had put his hand out in welcome. “Not Amber Christ.” He laughed. Obviously, not a bad guy if he liked my jokes.

Kath recovered the situation with introductions all around, and then made an excuse and led me away.

“What a surprise. Amber, I haven’t seen you in a dress since high school. You look good.”

And you haven’t said that to me since high school,
I thought. Something seemed to have mellowed her attitude a little.

“I promised you a quick review of your case.” She looked down and frowned. “I think Carter is an ass. His lawyers think he’s an ass. About now, even he’s starting to think he’s an ass. He’ll be looking for a way out, but the easiest solution would be if you backed down and then he can be magnanimous. If we don’t give him that, he’ll withdraw the suit anyway in a week or two. Just leave it to me, and whatever you do, don’t talk to him. He’ll be here tonight.”

“Okay. Thanks,” I said, “and thanks for taking it.”

“Yeah. Sorry about that, and lunch. I guess Carter’s not the only ass.” She gave me a quick, uncertain smile.

I felt a flicker of hope that, after this was over, we could behave like sisters again. I didn’t know what demands being Athanate might have on me, but surely, I would be okay for that.

“You’ve been under pressure. I understand,” I said.

“You don’t know the half of it.” She glanced around to make sure we were out of earshot from anyone. The rising buzz of conversations from people at the bar gave us complete privacy. “I’m being evaluated for a partnership.”

“Kath, that’s fantastic news.” The firm she worked for was about as crusty as they come out here. For Kath to be considered as a partner with only six years’ service was unprecedented.

She grabbed my arm. “Please, don’t spoil it for me. All the partners are here tonight.”

“I’ll avoid them. And if they talk to me, I’ll be demure. But honestly, what could I say that would hurt your chances?”

Kath’s eyes swiveled. “It’s your sense of humor, Amber. Remember the pastor? The frogs in Cassie’s bed? Or what about Mom’s boss at the barbeque that time?”

“Oh yeah. I had forgotten them. Oh God, that was fun!”

At Kath’s glare, I quelled the giggles and looked solemn. Well, I had only been fourteen.

The sound of a gong interrupted us. The crowd around the bar went quieter and started to drift towards the escalators to the ballroom. Jen was ushering people in and waved at me.

“Keep away from Kingslund, she’s trouble,” said Kath.

“Don’t be silly, she’s just a bit of an extrovert. Anyway, I’m temporarily renting an office from her in her house next to the Country Club. I’m advising her on security.”

She looked surprised, but before she could say anything, I went on, “I just wanted to say, you look good, too. You look like a partner in an awesome legal firm, sis. I’m proud.”

Kath smiled her thanks at me as Taylor appeared at her side to whisk her off to impress the hell out of the partners. I was happy for her. I’d rather clean sewers than work in a legal firm, but Kath loved it, she worked hard at it, and this was her due reward.

I focused on the fiery red of Jen’s dress and made my way to her side.

The attendees were arranged at round tables with about a dozen people for each. Jen and the committee had worked hard to spread the international delegation throughout the room, and to seat them with people who had an interest in whatever industry they represented. A hum of conversation built up quickly.

I had come doubting that anyone would really be interested in a private investigator and intending to spend my time scanning the international trade delegation for my Athanate contact. As it turned out, the people to my right were fascinated by what I did. Without telling them any complete lies, I did my bit for the investigation industry. Jen sat at my left and entertained her side of the table with an update on her plans to set up a Quarter Horse  race track just outside of town.

Opposite us sat the delegate from Malaysia, a businessman specializing in manufacturing plastic fasteners. I would have been hard put to tell if he was Athanate across the width of the table, but he didn’t seem to be.

Halfway around the table sat Jack Tucker. He was quiet, other than to support Jen’s ideas about the race track.

After the dessert, Lloyd McIntire and Ethel Harriman stood and made a brief shared speech, thanking everyone for their contributions, welcoming the international visitors and outlining the ways the money raised would be spent.

The mayor said a few words on how wonderful Denver was.

The guest speaker was an international businessman and CEO of a mining company. He spoke well and praised Denver for its workforce and the positive attitude of the business community. Mercifully brief.

As the applause died down, the band started to play.

Jen grabbed my hand, grinning. “I know you can dance.” I had told her about the dance lessons I’d had, mentioning that as the tallest girl there, I had generally had to dance as the male partner. “Committee members have to lead by example.”

She hauled me off to the dance floor. The band wasn’t particularly expecting anyone out this early, but they’d started with a simple cha-cha-cha, thank the stars. Unfortunately, we had the floor to ourselves.

I was here on a job, and the person who was going to be contacting me knew only that I was the woman with Jennifer Kingslund. I guessed this was a good a way as any to advertise that. I was going to have to make a bit of a spectacle of myself anyway, to give everyone in the delegation an opportunity to pass the message to me, so it might as well be by dancing.

At its simplest for the man, the cha-cha-cha is a basic, three-step dance and serves to provide a muted background for the woman to show off her skills. Of necessity, that’s the way we played it with me as the male lead. I decided my advice to all men wanting to look good on the dance floor was to get a partner who can really dance. Jen could really dance.

Thankfully, a few others took the hint and some couples joined us. I relaxed and started to enjoy it, and we laughed as I nearly missed passes here and there. By the end, it was probably looking quite natural and I was immersed in my role. Part of which was, of course, to kiss my partner’s hand.

I bent my head and our eyes met. The room seemed to recede and her eyes widened a touch. A little shock traveled down my body and settled in my stomach.
Whoops.

At the same time, I smelled Athanate. Close.

“Jennifer, would you introduce me to your partner, please?”

“Luc, hello,” said Jen, recovering herself. “This is my friend, Amber.”

I turned to find a tall man standing behind me with a pleasant smile and raised eyebrows.

Another man swooped in on Jen and her eyes met mine again for a second before she was whisked away.

“Luc, pleased to meet you.” I shook his hand. Diana had briefed me well enough. So this was Luc Matlal, the leader of the Athanate Basilikos party. He didn’t let go of my hand. I thought for a moment he might even kiss it.

“And I am enchanted to meet you, Amber. You lead well. However, may I lead this dance?” His eyes sparkled with humor. He looked fortyish, slim with a sharp face and black hair combed straight back.

I cocked an ear to the band. They would stick with whatever made people dance, so I imagined it was going to be Latin dances for a while.

“A salsa. Yes.”

We danced. The salsa is not designed for talking to your partner, more a way to show your intentions with your body. I had no intentions towards Matlal, other than to listen to what he might say to me, but the dance has a life of its own. Matlal’s eyes grew very intent.

As the music ended, we were at one side of the dance floor and this time he did actually brush my hand with his lips. A little shiver ran down my spine, but it wasn’t pleasure.

“Have you ever been to Mexico?” he asked.

“No,” I replied, retrieving my hand.

“I will enjoy showing it to you. I will show you a side of Mexico that tourists do not see.”

I bet he would. Not necessarily a part that most would want to see. “I think you’re getting ahead of yourself, Luc.”

“I will arrange it. An exchange between Houses in good standing with each other. I will insist.” He paused and frowned a little. “Forgive me, I thought I knew the marque of every House, but I cannot place yours.”

I knew exactly what he meant, but I just looked blankly at him. “I’m sorry, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Excuse me.” I turned to leave. Whatever Skylur had hoped I might learn from talking to him had been lost.

He grabbed my arm and his face was angry now. “I did not give you permission to leave. I can smell you, little Aspirant. Tell me what House you belong to.”

I turned back and broke his grip. He was very strong, but he retained just enough sense to not start a struggle on the dance floor.

Then I got in his face. “I don’t need your permission. And the thing that bit me died from it.”

He glared at me, not backing down. “You will tell me your House.” I felt the probing gray fingers of an attack. I didn’t need to reach any depth at all to find anger to fuel my defense.

“Now, Senor Matlal, you know my rules.” Rescue, in the unlikely shape of Ethel Harriman, appeared at my side. “One dance at a time.”

Matlal’s face underwent an immediate transformation, painful as it must have been for him. “Have you come to claim a dance with me, Mrs. Harriman?” He was charm itself, despite the anger that remained in his eyes.

“Thank you, no. My dancing days are long gone. I want to take Amber off the floor for a while.” She turned to me. “I simply must know where the dress has come from, my dear.”

She took my arm and steered me away. “I hope you don’t mind my familiarity. I know we haven’t been introduced but Jen told me your name. Please call me Ethel.”

“Thank you, Ethel,” I said and left it as to what I was thanking her for. I took some deep breaths and forced the anger back down. Ethel’s face was calm and composed, but I suspected there was little her sharp eyes didn’t see.