Faustine (8 page)

“So how come Peter isn’t Dad’s heir?”

“I don’t know for sure. I know that your mother was–is–the true love of Sebastian’s life, so that might be the reason.”

“What about the mothers of all of his other kids?”

“They were mostly short-term relationships.”

“Short-term relationships?”

“One-night stands.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Luke added. “He really cared about all of his children. Your dad saw all of his kids fairly regularly and made sure that they were well taken care of. All your half siblings are graduates of the Academy.”

“Are all of them hybrids?”

“No. Maximillian, Sebastian’s second child, is a full demon.”

“Can you give me a breakdown of the rest of them?”

“I will, but we don’t have time right now. My father is in the study. He asked if you could join him when you’re ready. Alone.”

“Sure. Just one more thing before I go. Were you annoyed when I asked you to get the refreshments? I kind of got the feeling that you weren’t too happy.”

“I was annoyed, but not at you. I was annoyed that Alfred didn’t feed before the meeting. He knows better.”

I turned to the great-looking guy sitting next to me. “Ryker, thanks for coming. Can you wait for me?”

He nodded, and I kissed him briefly before I made my way to Dorian’s study.

“Faustine,” Luke warned before I left, “Dad’s transformed; he’s not in his human manifestation, but don’t be afraid.”

Walking quickly into the study, I thought,
no kidding
, as I saw the hideous creature that was apparently Dorian. Thankfully, I didn’t feel the least bit frightened, but I was glad that Luke had warned me. Dorian looked icky, to say the least. His face was contorted into a gory mass of blood, with all sorts of nasty, flesh-covered lumps. His eyes had retracted into hollow pits, and his ears had doubled in size, looking slightly pointy due to the nasty lumps on the tips. No amount of cosmetic surgery could have rectified that mess, which extended to his hands. His ordinarily long fingers were even longer, and his hands were covered in red boils. Blech.

The worst thing was that he was obviously crying. I saw the tears even in that mess of lumps. Ugh–I guessed it was my duty to go over and hug him. But the thought of actual bodily contact with that mass of ugly lumps was almost enough to turn a steak-loving demon-girl into a vegetarian. I made my way over to him and enveloped him in my arms. After a few moments, that seemed like hours, of trying to hug him gently, so that none of his lumps would burst open and seep goodness-knows-what, he finally stopped soaking my shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, Princess,” he whispered, slumping back into his chair.

“Take your time, Dorian. I know this is very hard on you. Luke told me that you were very close to Peter.”

“I am. I was,” he whispered.

“I’m really sorry for your loss. I wish you could take some time off to mourn, but you really can’t right now,” I said softly.

 “Yes, of course. I apologize for falling apart like this,” Dorian mumbled.

“No need to apologize. Let’s sit and write out a plan. I find that always helps me get organized.”

Dorian brought out a yellow legal pad and pen and looked at me. His bumps seemed to be subsiding a bit. “My grief is almost unbearable. But, I will redirect those feelings into seeking revenge for Peter’s death, while helping you run London. At the outset, we’ll need to find out if any of your other siblings have been harmed.”

“That sounds like a good place to start, Dorian, with my siblings. I guess there are six siblings we need to contact.”

“That’s right. Shall I make a list for you?”

“No need. Not right now anyway. Does Luke know how to reach them?”

Dorian nodded.

“Can we contact each one now? I’d really like to meet them as soon as possible, assuming they’re all okay.”

Dorian picked up his cell and called Luke to convey the instructions to him.

“Thanks, Dorian. Next on the agenda–Dad. Where the heck could he be?”

“If he’s alive, he could be anywhere. So, for now, we need to take him out of the equation and get on with other matters.”

“I guess. It’s not like we can call the cops and report him missing… or can we?”

“We could. He’s a registered U.K. citizen; we could report him missing there.”

“How does one track a missing demon?” I asked out loud, mostly to myself. “The witches!” I exclaimed. “They could help! I have some of my dad’s belongings in the apartment. A powerful enough witch may be able to track him somehow... don’t you think?”

Dorian looked impressed, from what I could tell under the boils, which were thankfully subsiding. “It hadn’t occurred to me to ask any other paranormals to help. We don’t normally do that. I mean, interact in that way. Our territories are clearly marked, and we don’t interfere with each other’s kind.”

“While you might not work that way, do you think I could give it a try? I’m new, so maybe they’ll be receptive to working with me. With us. I want to ask Tessa first, though. I trust her.”

“She will need permission from the head witch in New York, who will have to negotiate it with Cassandra...” Dorian explained.

“You’re kidding?”

“No. It would actually be easier to talk to Cassandra directly.”

“Okay. Can you arrange a meeting?”

“Yes, Princess. Is that all?” he asked.

By the end of our strategy meeting, Dorian had returned to his normal human form. Thank goodness.

“Yes, that’s all. Thanks for taking care of the London operations. Keep me in the loop on any issues that arise.”

“I will. Faustine, thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being your dad’s daughter–for remaining strong. You did well today.”

It wasn’t like I had a choice.

By the time I went back to the conference room, Luke had gone. Hopefully, he was tracking down my siblings. Wow. The thought! I couldn’t wait to meet them. Luke would have to brief me first. I definitely wanted to be prepared.

“Hey, Faustine,” Ryker said, from the corner.

“Hey! You waited! Thanks. That took longer than I expected.”

“Of course I waited. Come here.”

I went over and plunked myself in his lap, resting my head on his shoulder.

“So, Princess, what do you want to do now?”

“Steak and then Starbucks,” I smiled.

T
aking a look at the guests sitting around my breakfast table, I felt even more uneasy than I had yesterday when my tablemates had been foreign paranormal sovereigns! Underneath the perfect hair and makeup resided the complicated evil of Upper East Side High School
mean girls
. The exceptions, of course, were Neave, Audrey and Viola, who had thankfully accepted my invitation to join us. Mom popped in briefly to say hello. After all, she was the former debutante that the girls at the table so looked up to. I was glad that Mom had stopped in to meet the girls; it immediately secured me as a player. Not so much Neave, Audrey and Viola. That would be a struggle, but I would insist on them being in our group.

“So, what was boarding school like, Faustine?” asked Taylor, the leader… for now.

“It was fun! It was different from school here, I’m sure, but I really enjoyed it.”

“Why did you go? I mean, there are plenty of great schools here,” Taylor asked oh-so innocently.

“I love to ski, and the school gave me an opportunity to train. Where better to practice than on the Swiss Alps? My school was surrounded by mountains–the skiing was amazing! By my last year, I was captain of the Academy ski team.”

“Sounds divine,” Nicole beamed. “I’m trying to convince my mom to send me to finishing school in Switzerland.”

“Well,
I’m
planning to attend Yale after we graduate,” Taylor announced. “I bet they don’t teach you much more at finishing school than we already learn at Posh Tea classes.” She flicked her straight, red hair back over her shoulder. “We’ve got to leave for school soon, but we need to discuss a few things first. I have to be quite firm about certain issues. Please excuse me if I sound rude at times, I don’t mean to. Like, what’s up with your eyes? They’re really distracting.”

“Latest trend in Milan,” I teased. “Great contacts aren’t they?”

“Of course, I have some on order,” she said dismissively. “The first order of business,” she continued, sounding very
official
, “is membership. We welcome you, Faustine, first of all, into our group. Your place was guaranteed based on your background–Lady Annabel is a legend. It’s not so straightforward for your three friends. Nice as they are, if it wasn’t for you insisting on their inclusion, they wouldn’t even be considered. No offense,” she said, looking at Neave, Audrey and Viola, who was busy slurping fresh blood disguised as tomato juice.

“Offense taken, though,” Neave said, practically shaking with anger and embarrassment. “Let me make something clear to you,
sweet
Taylor. The three of us wouldn’t even consider joining your little group if it wasn’t for Faustine. So shove that up your enormous....”

“Girls!” I pleaded. “Let’s just try to get along. Taylor, you were saying?”

“Well, since you
insist
, the committee has decided to accept your friends as pledges.”

“Oh, for crying out loud!” Neave exclaimed. “Pledges?”

“You will have to go through the standard twelve weeks of pledging followed by hell week, then–if you don’t get blackballed–you’re in as full members. It’s the best we can do without the whole school demanding to join. We’d have a minor riot if we bent the rules for you. As it is, we’ll have to say that we’re only accepting pledges from established member recommendations. Look, we are trying to be as accommodating as we can.”

“Neave,” I said, trying my best to sound positive, “it’s just terminology. I need you to give it a go. For me,” I said, ignoring Taylor’s cough.

Neave, Audrey and Viola nodded. “For you,” Neave confirmed.

“Super,” Taylor replied. “We don’t have time to go through the charter right now, but let’s meet up at lunch to talk some more. Ready to go?”

They each nodded and followed Taylor, single file, out the front door.

We walked through the streets of the Upper East Side without uttering a word until we arrived at the imposing brick building that was our school. “One more thing, before we go inside,” Taylor whispered to me right outside the school gates. “I have a message for you from my brother.”

“Your brother?”

“Yes. Fitch. He’s a junior. He’ll be escorting you to our social this weekend.”

Before I could protest, the bell rang, and we hurried inside.

I found my classes to be pretty easy, even though I was in all advanced classes, which had a nice mix of sophomores and juniors, with just a few freshman–like me–and seniors thrown in. Bonfire Academy emphasized academics even more than paranormal studies, with the International Baccalaureate as an end degree. Most did not attend the Academy long enough to achieve that, but we all got a good foundation during our time there. I spent most of my class time scanning the other students, trying to figure out if there were any paranormals among them. I had a
feeling
about one or two of them, but I couldn’t be sure.

At lunch, I found the girls waiting at the best table in the cafeteria. It was the whole group–Taylor, Nicole, Kelsey, Neave, the twins and three girls I hadn’t met before.

 “Faustine, you missed the introductions,” Taylor said. “This is Elenora,” she said pointing to a pretty brunette. “Elenora is a senior like me and Kelsey. And this is Mel and Tara, juniors. And that’s our group.”

“Nice to meet you,” I said, and sat down.

“We were talking about the upcoming party,” Taylor continued. “The three of you haven’t been to one of these events yet, so I was explaining the protocol.”

Protocol
? Did everything come with a protocol?

“The party is over in Long Island, at the Flower House Hotel, this Friday night. We’re leaving straight after school on Friday and staying over. I’ve booked us rooms. Faustine, you’ll be sharing with Neave.”

“Hey,” a voice said from behind me.

“Hey, bro,” Taylor said, as I turned around to look. “Faustine, Neave, Audrey and Viola, this is my brother, Fitch, a junior,” she introduced.

Physically, it was totally obvious that they were brother and sister. Fitch and Taylor shared the same fair coloring and red hair. They also had the same facial features and large freckles, but that’s where the similarities ended. Fitch contrasted drastically with Taylor’s polished persona. While Taylor wore her hair neat in long, straight strands, Fitch’s hair was cut short and gelled into tiny spikes. He was all punk rock. A studded dog collar peeked out from under the crisp, white collar of his shirt, and a bemused smirk played on his lips.

“So, this is my date?” he asked, and smelled me. Yes, he actually lowered his face and took a deep whiff of my neck! Weird.

“Yes. Lady Annabel’s daughter,” Taylor confirmed.

“Hold on,” I protested. “Date for what?”

“For the party this weekend,” he said, as his eyebrows drew together in a frown.