Brothers: Legacy of the Twice-Dead God (34 page)

“Then as your closest blood kin I will call
the apprenticeship void and you will come with me,” St. Croix said,
grinning evilly at me and hefting himself out of his chair.

“I claim a closer kinship,” said Kieran,
evenly.

St. Croix stopped, half out of his chair, and
stared at Kieran. “And you are?”

“His brother,” Kieran said.

“And I’ve hardly been hiding, Grandfather,” I
said. “You could have picked up the phone and called. I’ve had the
same number for at least five years.”

He fell back into the chair, studying Kieran,
then me. “You’re hiding right now, boy. Don’t try to teach an old
man how to suck eggs.”

Ewww! Where’d he get that image?

“Robert claimed to have no other children,”
he said to Kieran.

“I doubt that. Otherwise my siblings would be
crushed,” Kieran said with a faint, mocking smile. Grandfather’s
anxiety level jumped, almost doubling, riding a wave of anger. The
afterimage I saw flickered faster and faster across him, like the
timing was off on a movie projector and you saw the frames just
slightly—just enough to give you a headache after a few
minutes.

“Why didn’t the Challenge’s seal break?” he
asked. “I only sent it out to find you if you were here. I’ve been
looking for you for months. Thought you were dead and at the bottom
of a lake till Harris started claiming you were in league with the
Ice Queen.”

I looked down at the emblem on the tunic I
was wearing, at the symbol embroidered there: the House McClure. I
wondered why I hadn’t seen that before. “I believe I am quite
plainly showing my associations at the moment,” I said to him. “And
quite honestly, before a week ago, I didn’t have any reason to hold
anyone in contempt, or even strong dislike. A lot has changed in a
week.”

“How did you get here, boy?” he asked.
“Y’ain’t strong enough t’fight. An’ yer brother ain’t nobody.”

“We walked,” I answered. He was trying to
incite me and I didn’t know why. The belligerence didn’t seem
“grandfatherly” to me, at least the television representation of
one. Certainly not how I expected my father to act toward any
children I might have in the future. But then, I had siblings I’d
never met so there was more than I knew.

“Don’t be a smartass, boy,” St. Croix
snapped.

“Perhaps introductions are in order?” said
the man standing next to my grandfather, placing a hand firmly on
his shoulder, stopping his rise out of the chair.

“Don’t matter who they are,” St. Croix said
to the man. To Kieran, he said, “Release the boy. He’s mine!”

“He is neither yours to take nor mine to
release. He is his own,” Kieran answered. He was studying St. Croix
carefully, searching for something. Kieran must have seen the same
flicker I saw. It was bigger now, more pervasive, and full of anger
and hate directed at everything, it seemed. His soul looked like it
was being drained away by it. Consumed.

“I’ll find a way. You’ll come to me yet, boy,
you mark my words,” St. Croix said loudly and throwing the man’s
hand off his shoulder and stood, shoving past the couple and
stomping toward the exit.

The man sighed heavily and shrugged his
tuxedo jacket back into place, smoothing imaginary wrinkles. He
watched St. Croix leave then looked back toward the territory they
had struck and jerked his head toward the door once. Feinstein
headed for the door after my grandfather at a more leisurely
pace.

“I apologize for Mr. St. Croix’s behavior. He
is overworked and overwrought and his daughter’s disappearance has
made matters much worse,” he said. “This was supposed to be a
relaxing trip for him.”

“He does seem to be wound a little tightly,”
Kieran said mildly. “The Loa tend to do that to people,
though.”

“What?” the man asked in surprised. “The
Loa?”

“Yes, the Loa,” said Kieran, almost
dismissively. He stood up and offered his hand to the man. “I am
Ehran McClure. My associates: Seth, Peter, and Ethan.”

“Pleasure to meet you all. I am Diego Florian
and my wife, Della,” he said.

“Diego?” Kieran asked brightly. “I knew a
Diego Florian years ago in Baja by way of my parents. I believe
that was in the seventies.” He stopped suddenly. “Oh, I am sorry.
I’m romanticizing and I’m sure that seemed racist. Those are not
exactly uncommon names.”

“No, no, not at all,” Florian said, smiling.
“Diego Florian was my father and he did have a rather large house
in Baja. I inherited it when he passed away in the late
eighties.”

Kieran had switched to Spanish so fluently I
didn’t notice when.

“My condolences. He was a delightful man and
both my parents spoke highly of him,” Kieran said.

“From Robert McClure that is high praise,” he
said. “I was unaware that they had even met before. I’ll have to
ask my brothers and sisters if they remember Robert and
Olivia.”

“Olivia is not my mother, just Seth’s,”
Kieran corrected him. “My mother was killed three years after that
visit.”

“Ah, perhaps that is the root of St. Croix’s
confusion of Robert’s offspring. Seth is Olivia’s only child, but
not Robert’s,” said Florian.

“Perhaps. It could also be in his manner of
thinking. The ways of the voudoun are not exactly geared toward a
long life naturally,” Kieran said.

“And perhaps he doesn’t know men for the
rutting dogs they really are,” said Della, her first words in the
conversation. Her curling smile, her aura said she meant it as an
off-color joke, and in Spanish, it didn’t seem quite as crude, for
some reason. I didn’t know how to react to it, though. Until Peter
muttered, “Woof, woof,” under his breath. Then I burst out laughing
again.

Señora Florian smiled down at us as we
collected ourselves again. She seemed like a down-to-earth type of
person. Even her magic was geared in that direction in that it was
less line oriented and more towards nourishing what was already
there. It was … motherly. No, feminine was a better adjective. In
ways that the Queens were not, even with the show of raw sexuality
they’d performed earlier. Señor Florian was smirking. It was the
flip side of his wife’s, the rutting-dog side.

“The elves will be arriving shortly,” said
Florian, “so we should be returning to our party. Perhaps you can
join us to watch the competition sometime this week? We would enjoy
talking with you all.”

“I’m sure we can arrange that at some point.
I’ll inquire as to how to get around the Arena. Our apartment opens
directly into it and we’ve not yet seen any designations on
anything,” said Kieran.

“Perhaps we should join you instead,” said
Florian, awed. “We have to walk for half of an hour to get to our
box. You have powerful allies, Ehran McClure.”

“I’m certain that trade is still in my
father’s name and not mine,” said Kieran, feigning modesty.
MacNamara hadn’t said who the peace-bond was broken on, so I guess
Kieran was following the same tact.

“Tomorrow, then,” Florian said. “Good
evening.” He held out his arm, Señora Florian placed hers on top,
curling her hand into his, and they glided away, looking very much
like flamenco dancers on the way to a stage somewhere. I wondered
if this was homage or dotage to the stereotype, but considering the
venue it was hard to tell.

“What is a Loa?” Ethan asked. Finally, I
wasn’t the only one who didn’t know something.

“A spirit rider,” answered Kieran in a low
voice. “They exist slightly outside of our worlds. Generally,
they’re nasty business, sucking on the souls of their mounts until
there’s nothing left. Drives the person mad in the process.
Sometimes they can be beneficial; a symbiotic relationship can be
formed between a specific Loa and a family line. Rare, though. When
it does happen, the area they’re in will flourish. It never lasts
for more than a few generations.”

“So this thing is trying to latch onto me?” I
asked, mortified. “That’s disgusting.”

“If it exists outside, why can’t I sense it?”
asked Ethan, puzzled.

“You didn’t see it at all?” I asked him.

“Only a wrongness about him,” he said. “I
attributed it to his obnoxious behavior.”

“The Loa don’t exist as you, anchored here
but existing physically elsewhere,” Kieran said. “They are more
similar to the Fae in that they almost phase in and phase out of
our reality when they need to interact in any way. That is part of
why they are hard to detect and kill. They are also rarely an issue
with us because they’re not as powerful, for the most part.”

“Peter, did you see it?” I asked.

“He … flickered a little. I didn’t know what
it was, though,” Peter answered. “It was weird to watch, but it was
very faint. I wouldn’t have thought anything of it if you guys
weren’t looking at him so weirdly.”

“That seems to imply that they can wander
around with impunity,” I said. “And what about when they can use
façades and veils? Speaking of which, why is no one using one
now?”

Something tickled my ear. “Because dear boy,”
said a high melodic voice, “everyone would be boring holes through
them all night, so you’re going to have to look your best anyway.”
I turned to the left as the woman came around the couch, startled
by her sudden appearance. I thought I was aware of everyone within
twenty feet of us. And her voice was hotly familiar.

“Hello, Simone,” said Kieran coldly.

The Summer Princess lit a stunning presence
into our circle, taking the chair across from Peter. Thankfully,
she left her heat elsewhere. Her dress was almost as bright and
shiny as her aura, full of red, yellow, and orange. Her fiery hair
blending into blond highlights made her look like the afternoon sun
incarnate.

“Lady, you are gonna give me a complex
against hot women,” I said. I know I had to be wide-eyed and
pushing against Kieran. And he knew her! “Is there anybody you
don’t know?” I turned to ask him.

“Her,” he said, pointing at the Summer
Princess.

“You just called her ‘Simone’,” I
retorted.

“And you’ve changed since then, Ehran
McClure,” said the Princess in her singsong voice. “Pleasantly
so.”

“’Simone’ was a character the Seelie Princess
played once a very long time ago,” said Kieran, not taking his eyes
off her. I didn’t blame him for that. I was afraid to look at her
for the same reason. “She hurt someone I cared for. Toyed with him
and in the Summer fashion burned him so badly he didn’t recover. So
we are acquainted with one another. That she even knows my name is
probably more to do with earlier this week than all those years
ago. Am I right, Princess of Summer?”

She arched an eyebrow high over her two-toned
eye and trilled a laugh. “Mother was definitely not pleased with my
sudden arrival in Court,” she said mildly. “Don’t expect such a
trick to work twice, McClure.”

“I’m rather surprised it worked once,” said
Kieran.

“Well, now our little prize sits barely a
yard away,” she said, licking her lips, causing a shimmer of heat
to rise up her dress, accentuating the motion. I have no idea why
that effect followed that cause, but I swear it did. This was the
first time I felt conspicuous in the loose fitting silk pants
as I crossed my right leg over my left for a not so inconspicuous
reason.

“And he, too, has learned a new trick. How
are you doing it, Ehran, hmm? Staying so invisible in a room with
so many people who break invisibility spells as a hobby?” she
asked, coyly leaning forward so that her hair flowed around to her
bosom, barely covering her breasts as her dress fell away. I had to
find another place to look, but she was so… simmeringly,
hypnotically hot!

“Happy coincidence,” Kieran answered. “Tragic
accident. Take your pick.”

A flare of aggravation ran through her. She
quickly tamped it down, but it broke through whatever she was
weaving on me. Made me look directly at her, at her eyes. They
looked like an eclipse of the sun, the first color of the corona
blazing around the pupil’s black. Then her aura popped into
existence around her, horrifyingly bright and fiery. The field of
her emotions was deeply rutted in some areas, fallow in others,
pale and completely unused in still more. Admittedly, I had no
experience in a great deal of the emotional areas I was looking at
in her, but she had a great deal more life experience than I did.
It was saddening that she was so… stunted.

I guess it showed in my face.

“How. Dare. You.” The Summer Princess stood
up suddenly and slapped me hard, staring at me angrily. She was
heating up the area now and her dress was pulsing upwards in bands
of red and yellow. She balled up her fists and stormed away from us
as the pulsing of her dress sped on.

Kieran slapped his hand against my cheek
where the Summer Princess had hit me and pushed cool blue healing
energy into the skin and down into my bones to my spine. Bones were
broken. My spinal cord was snapped. She’d killed me, but my body
hadn’t recognized it yet. Kieran straightened my head gently as the
blue pulled on cells, knitting and repairing them, recapturing the
goo from broken cell walls to refill the structures. Almost as
quickly as it happened, my spinal cord was intact and my brain was
in contact with the rest of my body. The vertebrae in my neck
healed and discs settled back in between nicely, separating and
cushioning.

The pain hit then. I was burned and I felt
it. And I screamed. Kieran pushed more energy in, healing me as
fast and as hard as he could, but burns are hard to heal. I’ve
heard that all my life and now I was experiencing it firsthand. It
hurt in ways I didn’t have words to describe. Till Peter touched my
shoulder and sparked a bright green light into me. Then my
consciousness fled into my cavern and I curled up, fetal and
shaking in front of the Pact and the weapons.

“Thank you, Peter,” I heard Kieran say,
distantly. “This won’t take long, Seth.”