Taranis was finally revealed in the mirror. He was edged with glow, as if the colors of everything about him wavered. His hair and beard were at least his true color, the reds and orange of a spectacular sunset. The locks of his curling hair were painted with the glory of the sky when the sun sinks to the west. His eyes were truly multi-petals of green: jade, grass, shades of leaves. It was as if a green flower had been substituted for the iris of his eyes. As a small child, before I knew that he disdained me, I'd truly thought him handsome.
"Oh, my God," Nelson said in a breathy voice.
I looked behind myself at her, the wide eyes, the almost slack face. "You've only seen the pictures of him pretending to be human, haven't you?"
"He had red hair and green eyes, not this, not this," she said. Cortez, her boss, took her elbow and got her to a chair. Cortez was angry and was having trouble hiding it. Interesting reaction on his part.
Taranis turned those green-petaled eyes toward the woman. "Few human women have seen me in all my glory in many years. What do you think of me in my true form, pretty girl?"
I was pretty sure that you didn't get to be assistant district attorney in Los Angeles by letting men call you pretty girl. But if Nelson had a problem with it, she didn't say so. She looked besotted with him, drunk with his attention.
Abe came to join us in our huddled group. Galen trailed behind him, looking puzzled. It was Abe who leaned in and whispered, "There is some magic here that is not merely light and illusion. If it were almost anyone else, I would say that he has added love magic to his bag of tricks."
Doyle drew Abe closer to us all, and whispered, "A spell powerful enough that it is affecting Ms. Nelson."
They all agreed.
We hadn't meant to ignore Taranis, but he was so terribly busy flirting with Nelson that it was easy to forget that just because a king is ignoring you doesn't mean that you are allowed to ignore the king.
"I did not come here to be insulted," he said in that thundery voice. Once it would have impressed me, but I'd been intimate with Mistral. He was a storm god, too, but one who could make lightning pour down a hallway inside the faerie mound. Taranis's rumbly voice just couldn't compare to Mistral. In fact, as the men parted so that I could see my uncle more clearly, he looked a little overdone, like a man who's overdressed for a date.
I looked at the men clustered around me, and realized that all of them had touched me, Rhys wrapped around my waist and side; Frost on the other side, arm a little higher; Doyle with his strong dark hands on my face; Abe with his hand on my shoulder so he could lean in and not fall (even sober his balance seemed shaky sometimes). Galen had touched me because he always touched me when he could. It was as if I'd reached a critical mass of touch. I could think. I was no longer besotted like the good Miss Nelson. Once I'd thought that Andais appearing on the mirror calls draped in men had a been a way to taunt and shock Taranis and his court. In only two mirror calls of my very own, I'd learned that there was a method to her madness. For me, either five was the magic number or the mix of these five men's powers was what works. Either way, it was going to be a different phone call than it would have been if Taranis's spell had worked on me. Interesting.
"Meredith," Taranis called. "Meredith, look upon me."
I knew that there was power to that voice. I felt it as one would sense the ocean. Whispering and close. But I was no longer standing in the water. I was no longer in danger of drowning in that voice.
"I see you, Uncle Taranis. I see you very well," I said, and my voice was strong and firm, and caused the arch of a perfect sunset-colored eyebrow to raise.