Still Not Dead Enough , Book 2 of The Dead Among Us (29 page)

Paul bowed at the waist as he’d been taught, waited for Ag to speak first. “Mr. Conklin, a pleasure to meet you at last.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Your Majesty.” Paul met Ag’s eyes, and neither of them tried to hide the true displeasure they felt.

“I’m told, Young Mage, you recently suffered a grave injury at the hands of some rogue Sidhe warriors.”

So that was how they’d play this, rogues of which Ag would deny all knowledge. Paul decided to take a chance. “It was nothing, Your Majesty. They were easily dispatched.” Paul didn’t say it, but all present new he meant,
because they were mere Unseelie.

Paul had struck home. Ag’s eyes flashed with anger, and frost formed in Paul’s hair and on his shoulders. Paul pulled some power, warmed himself and the frost dissipated. Colleen, standing to one side, gave him a look that said,
Don’t push it, boy-oh.

Paul decided to withdraw politely. “But, Your Majesty, I stand in awe of the magnificence and power of the Unseelie Court.” Colleen smiled.

“Well then, Young Mage,” Ag said magnanimously. “Let us adjourn. We shall dine together tonight, all of us, and you can sample the pleasures of the Unseelie Court.”

Chapter 22: The Truth of the Beast

The banquet seemed almost medieval in character and style. Where Magreth had preferred small, informal gatherings, Ag had turned out the entire circus. The floor of the banquet room had three levels. The highest tier held only one table, at which Ag, Magreth, McGowan, Colleen, Jim’Jiminie and Boo’Diddle sat, along with one of Ag’s concubines, all seated on one side of the table and facing the two lower tiers. Jim’Jiminie and Boo’Diddle couldn’t remain seated or still for more than a few minutes at a time,

Anogh escorted Paul to a table on the second tier, and they were the first to arrive there. On the lowest tier long banquet tables ran down either side of the room, leaving a large open space in the center of the floor.

Alone with Anogh at their table, waiting for the festivities to begin, Paul said, “So, Summers, it’s been a long time. Summers Knight, wasn’t it?”

One of Anogh’s eyebrows lifted. “You remember. I’m surprised you were able to lift the veil of my glamour.”

“I had some help. What were you doing in my life back then?”

Anogh shook his head. “The two of us meeting, becoming casual acquaintances, merely coincidence. It was a lark, to live as a mortal briefly.”

Paul didn’t believe a word he said, but before he could press the issue further, Simuth arrived with a beautiful woman on his arm. She reminded Paul a bit of Suzanna, but where Suzanna had disdained opulence for simple good looks, this woman wore rich silks and velvet brocade, long hair piled elaborately on her head. Paul and Anogh stood.

Simuth looked to the woman on his arm. “Nezmodie, I’d like you to meet the young mage, of which I’m sure you’ve heard.” He looked at Paul. “My sister, Nezmodie.”

Paul bowed carefully. She extended her hand and he kissed it. “I’m honored,” he said.

Simuth turned to Anogh. “I think you were right, Sir Knight.” He turned to Nezmodie. “It was our dear Anogh, here, who suggested I bring you tonight so you might meet the young mage. And I now see what an excellent idea that was.”

Nezmodie and Simuth sat on one side of the table, facing Paul and Anogh on the other.

The banquet was a bawdy affair. They didn’t serve individual plates of food. Instead, servants placed large platters of steaming dishes in the center of the table from which they all helped themselves. The cleared space in the center of the third tier filled with entertainers, jugglers, mimes, singers, dancers, with a small string orchestra playing soft music in the background.

Paul ate sparingly, didn’t have the appetite for more. He also learned to pace himself with the wine, since after every sip or two, a servant stepped forward to top off his glass.

Simuth was actually a bit charming, though always arrogant. Nezmodie kept sneaking glances at Paul, and each time her eyes narrowed in careful thought. He finally asked her, “Lady Nezmodie, is there something I can do for you?”

She blushed. “I’m sorry, Young Mage. You must think me rude. It’s just that . . . there is . . . something familiar about you.”

“I’m sure we’ve never met before,” Paul said. “Believe me; I would not forget you so easily.”

She smiled at him warmly. “You are kind, Young Mage. But, I agree, we have never met. But there is something vaguely familiar in your aura, something I can’t place.”

They continued eating and drinking and chatting politely. It drove Paul nuts. He wanted to immediately dive into the subject of Katherine’s captivity, to negotiate her release, to do something. But Colleen and McGowan had warned him certain protocols must be followed, so he’d have to be patient.

After Paul finished eating he listened to Simuth expounding on some feat. Simuth waved his hand expansively, and as he did so Paul noticed a glint from one of the rings on his fingers. When Simuth put his hand on the table and held it still for a moment, Paul got a good look at the ring. A wave of nausea washed over him, and he swallowed several times to keep from vomiting his dinner right onto the table. He knew that ring.

“Young Mage, are you ill?” Nezmodie’s voice brought Paul back to the moment.

“No,” he lied. “Perhaps a bit too much wine. That’s all.” He carefully focused his attention on Simuth. “Sir Knight, that’s an interesting ring you wear.”

There couldn’t be two like it in the universe, a small, antique silver ring, with four little diamond studs alternating with four small ruby studs, all arrayed in a circle, and set in a baroque setting that made it truly unique. That ring, or one like it, had been the only possession Suzanna had ever had from her unknown family, and because of that she had valued it greatly. She hadn’t been wearing it at the time of her death, and afterwards Paul had searched every inch of their apartment to find it, in vein it turned out.

“Oh this little bauble,” Simuth said, holding up the ring and wiggling his finger. Paul noticed Nezmodie stiffen angrily. “It’s a family heirloom, not worth much, but it’s been in the family for centuries.” He looked at Nezmodie, and all color drained from her face. “Though it did have a brief sojourn outside the family recently, but I corrected that.”

Nezmodie literally shook with anger. “You murdered her,” she whispered.

“Murder?” Simuth asked, and any sense he could be charming disappeared, replaced by the cruel and brutal Winter Knight. “When is it murder to exterminate an abomination?”

Simuth turned to Paul. “My sister chose to bed an animal, and from her womb she bore a half-animal abomination.”

Nezmodie snarled at him. “He was no animal. He was a mortal man, kind and loving, and you murdered him too.”

Simuth shrugged at her coldly. “Mortal, animal, what’s the difference.”

Paul’s hands trembled more at each word, so he put them in his lap to hide them. Simuth turned back to him, clearly warming up to his story. “She tried to hide her spawn in the Mortal Plane. Took me years to find the little beast.”

Nezmodie growled, “She was no beast. She was my child.”

Paul felt rage climbing up from his gut, but he managed to control his voice as he asked, “And what did you do then?”

Simuth laughed. “I made the little beast pleasure me for a few days. Then I helped her commit suicide.”

“She didn’t commit suicide, you animal,” Nezmodie shouted. “You as much as murdered her with your beguilement.”

Paul wanted to climb up over the table, wrap his hands around Simuth’s throat and wipe that smug smile from his face. Anogh, sitting next to him, clamped a hand on his wrist, whispered in his ear, “Not now, Young Mage.”

Then Anogh turned to Simuth and spoke casually. “Nezmodie’s child bore a child of her own, did she not?”

Simuth laughed. “Yes, the spawn of the spawn. Didn’t know it at the time, went back later and took care of the whelp myself.”

Paul’s world narrowed to one thought. Everyone’s attention had focused on Nezmodie shouting at Simuth. Paul had brought the knife in the underarm sheath, though that broke the terms of their parole in the Unseelie Court. He could pull it, lunge across the table, possibly bury it in Simuth’s eye before they stopped him.

Paul didn’t know Colleen was standing behind him until she put her hands on his shoulders. “Paul,” she whispered in his ear. “You mustn’t do anything rash.”

“She’s right, Young Mage,” Anogh whispered in the other ear. “Now is not the time for a reckoning.”

Colleen spoke up so others could hear her. “I believe the young mage is ill.”

“Yes,” Anogh said, standing, pulling Paul to his feet. “Possibly a bit too much wine.”

Colleen lied, “I believe it’s more his recent injuries we must be concerned with. Will you help me get him back to his chambers without incident, Sir Knight?”

“Of course, Lady Armaugh.”

Anogh held Paul’s arm in a vice-like grip as they escorted him back to his chambers. Paul didn’t resist, let them lead him back to his room, recalling all the way Anogh’s words: . . .
you will know the truth of it.

At the door to his chambers he stopped and met Anogh’s eyes. “You knew all along. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Anogh shrugged. “Would you have believed me?”

“No. Probably not.”

“But now you’ve heard the truth from the lips of the beast himself.”

. . . you will know the truth of it.
“Thank you,” Paul said.

~~~

Until that day Paul had never, in fact, understood the words
blind rage
, not in his gut, not the way he understood it now as a white-hot fury burning from within. He had only one desire in life, to hunt Simuth down and kill him. He ranted and raved in his room, shouted at McGowan, Colleen, Devoe and the leprechauns, all of whom ganged up on him, wouldn’t let him leave.

“You can’t kill Simuth,” Colleen shouted at him. “He’s immortal, you idiot.”

“I can hurt him,” Paul shouted back.

“And he’ll kill you, you young fool.”

Jim’Jiminie said, “He is entitled to vendetta in this. Though I see no way he can gain true satisfaction.”

They argued for quite some time. At one point Paul started for the door, but Devoe intercepted him, twisted his right arm behind his back, pushed him against a wall and said, “Face it, kid, you ain’t gettin’ out of here.”

It was McGowan who finally got to him. “If you attack him, regardless of the circumstances, we’ll never get Katherine out of here.”

Devoe, who stood against the door blocking the exit, said, “You put it away now, kid, until after we get Katherine back. And then I’ll help you go after the bastard. My word on that.”

McGowan added, “And I too will help you, after Katherine has been safely rescued.”

“And I,” Colleen said.

“Vendetta it is,” Boo’Diddle said, looking to Jim’Jiminie. “We will bear witness the vendetta is just.” Jim’Jiminie nodded his agreement.

Paul capitulated, not just outwardly, but honestly so. Going after Simuth right now would only get in the way of any attempt to rescue Katherine. And in any case, he didn’t know how he could hurt Simuth, let alone kill him. He finally realized the best thing to do would be to become the most powerful wizard he could manage, to work at it with all his energy. Then someday come back and do it right.

Colleen stayed with him while he sat in his clothes and brooded, and thought a great deal about Suzanna and Cloe. At some point, sitting in a chair, he drifted off into a restless sleep, awoke to the sound of a knock at his door. Colleen had left and he was alone, so he stood and opened the door. Nezmodie stood there, her eyes red-rimmed, her cheeks glistening with tears.

“You were her lover, weren’t you,” she said breathlessly, “and the father of my grandchild. I see it now. I see her in your aura. You loved her deeply, didn’t you?”

“Yes.” He couldn’t add anything to that.

“Come with me.” She turned away.

“Wait. Where are we going?”

She turned back to him. “To see the Old Wizard’s daughter.”

Paul followed Nezmodie without question. It could be a trap, and if it was, he’d be prepared. But Nezmodie’s anger at Simuth was obviously genuine, and he paid particular attention to the route she followed, hoping he could find it again. She led him to a set of double doors, paused outside them, closed her eyes and he sensed a small flow of power. She opened her eyes. “She’s alone.” She passed her hand over the doors and they opened. She walked in and Paul followed her into a sitting room. Nezmodie crossed to a doorway in the opposite wall, waved at Paul to follow her.

Paul found Katherine asleep on her bed, the covers tangled around her hips, wearing a diaphanous gown that showed more than it hid. Nezmodie slipped out of the room to allow them privacy, and Paul sat down next to Katherine.

She opened her eyes, and as they widened with recognition she sat up and threw her arms around his neck. “Paul, is it really you?”

“Of course it’s me.” He held her at arm’s length. “Why wouldn’t it be me?”

She shook her head dazedly. “For me, here, half the time I don’t know what’s real. I live in a world of spells and illusion.” She suddenly realized what she wore, blushed, pulled the blankets up to cover her breasts.

He grinned. “Darn, I was rather enjoying that.”

She returned his grin. “You’re still incorrigible.”

“Come with me,” he said. “Now. We’ll get you back to your father and Colleen.”

“I can’t,” she said, shaking her head. “The threshold of this suite is spell locked. If I cross it without being summoned, they’ll know immediately, and then none of us will get out of here.”

“There’s got to be a way,” he pleaded.

“Go back to my father. Now that you know where I am, how to find me, he’ll know what to do, maybe cast some spell that’ll cover my escape.”

They argued for a bit, but Paul knew all along Katherine was right, though before he left, she planted a kiss on him that left him breathless. He let Nezmodie lead him back to his own suite, concentrating again on the path they took.

~~~

Anogh waited with Ag in the King’s private meeting chamber. Neither of them spoke as they waited for Simuth. Then there came a polite knock on the door and Simuth entered.