Deliverance stared for a couple of beats. "What kind of women are they serving?"
Litha smiled.
Storm said, "I asked about that. Maybe you could snack..." He put the word "snack" in air quotes. "...beforehand and then go out for all-you-can-eat in New York afterward."
The demon moved his head back and forth like he was either thinking about it or responding to a dance tune that only he could hear.
"I'm saying yes to dinner." He giggled like the notion was ludicrous. Which it was. "Nothing else."
***
Chapter 5
Sol was certain there was no one in the known world better prepared to stage a dinner party than his fiancé, Farnsworth. He had left all the arrangements to her and damn if she hadn't done a bang up job. She had commandeered a private room on the far side of the mess that was large enough to feel elegant, and small enough to be intimate. The room looked onto a garden courtyard with ambient lighting, but was also located conveniently near the kitchen.
Sol had requested a round table for six to eliminate questions about the hidden meanings behind seating assignments. Some of the tufted red leather club chairs had been brought in from the lounge and set around the table. The hostess in absentia used white linens to contrast with the dark red floral design in the carpet. The table was set with the unit's fine china, crystal, and silver, but the pièce de résistance was a three foot high blown glass flute topped with a fountain spray of calla lilies garnished with sprigs of delicate orchids cascading down the sides, but not far enough to obscure eye contact between the diners.
The room was bare except for the table and chairs, a long side serving board, and two Black Swan flags proudly displayed in corner stands. Jefferson Unit considered itself sovereign territory and did not acknowledge any law or governing body other than The Order.
Sol had received a message from Storm in the afternoon saying that he was bringing Litha, Deliverance, and another unnamed guest. Counting Ram, Elora and himself, that would be seven. Not six. Sol considered himself a lucky man. He knew his wife-to-be wasn't easily nonplussed. She would add a seventh person without breaking her stride.
Everyone was assembled except for Litha. Storm introduced his father-in-law and mystery guest, Glendennon Catch, to Sol.
Although Glen had been a trainee at Jefferson Unit for six years and undoubtedly knew the Sovereign on sight, Sol made it a point to avoid getting to know trainees. If an honored guest happened to bring one of them to dinner, he supposed he would have to make an exception. Sol raised an eyebrow when appraising Glen's piercings, tattoos, and chunks style hair and made no attempt to disguise his disapproval.
The six who had arrived were enjoying cocktails. More accurately, four were enjoying cocktails. Glen's drink request had been changed from Whiskey Sour to Virgin Daiquiri by Storm and Deliverance opted for drinking in Elora's curves, currently enhanced by nursing. She was telling the group about the raspberry Helm had given the Elk Mountain king.
Litha knew she was late. She'd been detained by a talkative researcher from the Department of Records of Extraordinary Occurrences. She was rushing through the haze of the passes with nothing in mind but her destination, when she brushed up against another rider. The fellow traveler grabbed her elbows and easily pulled her to a standstill, a thing she hadn't even known was possible.
She looked around to see who had brought her to a dead stop. Her captor was an attractive male with sandy blonde hair and eyes the color of sienna. His generous lips were spread into a grin that would have also been attractive were it not for the fact that it showed off fangs that were white as veneers and chillingly sharp. Vampire. His four companions watched her with varying degrees of interest ranging from mild curiosity to outright leering.
The vamp who was forcibly detaining her said something she didn't understand. Verbal communication seemed unlikely and, since she didn't relish the notion of either being late for a dinner with her husband's friends or gang raped by vampire, she muttered, "Screw this", and threw off enough heat to give the restraining hands instant second degree burns. For good or bad, the resulting yowls were rather satisfying to her ears. She didn't have time for an internal debate about whether or not that made her a bad person. She hurt him. He deserved it. She liked hurting him. So what?
As soon as he released her to snatch his burned fingers away and assess his damage, she resumed the journey post haste. She didn't see or hear them behind her, but felt, with every magical and demonic sense she possessed, that they were chasing her. Fine, she thought. Follow me. It just so happens that my destination will lead you right into a cluster of decorated vampire slayers. If that wasn't enough, there's also a demon who's not going to be happy about the fact that his little girl was accosted on the way to dinner.
There was a slight atmospheric pop just before Litha materialized running straight into Storm's arms, overturning his Whiskey Sour, and yelling, "Vampire incoming."
Reacting with pure reflex and veteran instinct, Ram pulled one of the flagpoles from its stand and rushed toward Litha. When the first vamp materialized, he was there at the ready to shove the end of the blunt, stake substitute through the intruder's heart. The four who popped in right behind him made no aggressive move. They looked curious, but not concerned.
The staked vampire couldn't have looked more shocked or more offended. Litha's pursuer didn't look like someone who had just been mortally wounded. His expression read closer to that of someone who'd had his feelings hurt.
He looked from the pole sticking out of his chest to Ram. "Hey, t'es baise' toi, ça fait mal." He grabbed the dowel with both hands and pulled it free.
It made a suction noise that caused Elora to wince. When Litha had first uttered the word vampire, Elora had grabbed Glen and put him behind her, which he resented, of course. After all, he'd spent the entirety of his adolescence training for a potential knighthood for cripes sake.
Looking down at the damage the vampire said, "Et j'aimais cette chemise."
As he rubbed his fist into his chest he glanced around the room for the first time. His eyes immediately lit on Elora and he grinned. "Ca va? Je m'appelle Javier. Quel est à vous ?"
The sound of male interest is unmistakable in any language.
Without taking her eyes away from him, Elora said, "Is that French? Who speaks French?"
"I do," Glen said from behind her. He stepped out to Elora's side. "The dialect is old-fashioned, like they're speaking medieval French or something, provincial at that." Glen looked at Ram. "Basically he said, 'Ow! What the f**k, man? That hurts.' Then he said, 'And I liked this shirt'."
Glen turned to Elora. "To you he said, 'How's it going? I'm Javier. What's your name?'"
Elora stared at Javier and let her eyes roam over his four friends. "Great Paddy." She leaned toward Ram, who had moved to stand near her. "Their eyes aren't pale and they're not acting very vamp-like."