Rejar (3 page)

She was still laughing when they reached the downstairs hallway, both of them skidding around a corner together.

“Lilac.” Auntie Whumples stood just outside the sitting room door.

Discretely wagging an admonishing finger at her niece for her very unladylike behavior, she continued on in a louder voice, “Look who has come to visit with you—it’s our Lord Creighton.”

Lord Creighton stepped into the foyer from the sitting room.

The smile instantly died on Lilac’s face.

“Good morning. Miss Devere.” Executing a perfect bow, the obnoxious lordling proceeded to examine her with his ever present quizzing glass.

Lilac frowned. Lord Creighton examined everything with his quizzing glass. The insufferable boor!

What was he doing here? She thought she had been quite obvious in denouncing his attentions. Good lord, she had turned down every single invitation the coxcomb had issued to her! What more did it take?

Always in fashion, Lord Creighton was dressed in the blue coat and buff-colored waistcoat that Brummell had decreed was de rigueur for gentlemen’s morning wear. His mousy brown hair was cut fashionably short with the curls in the front tousled just so over his forehead. His cravat was perfectly tied and so stiff, it seemed he was having trouble seeing over the foolish thing. Lilac sighed forlornly.

Who is this interloper? Bristling, Rejar observed the dandy before him. He snorted derisively at the man’s short hair. What kind of eunuch cut off his hair? Where was his masculine pride?

He did not seem like much of a man to him.

Did he not know that the hunt had begun and a Familiar had already marked his “prey”? Lilac had taken him in. Now she was his to capture.

If the foolish man thought to interfere between a Familiar and his ...

Well, he did so at his own peril.

Besides, he did not like the way the flug was peering at her through that tiny piece of glass!

“And what have we here?” Lord Creighton made the unfortunate mistake of kneeling down to get a closer look at the cat through his quizzing glass.

Rejar arched his back, emitting a low, threatening growl at the man, his blue and gold eyes flashing. Lord Creighton jumped back, his face going deathly pale.

“Zounds! Miss Devere, is—is it dangerous?”

Lilac looked speculatively at her cat. Hmm... Maybe it can accomplish what I apparently cannot.

She bent toward Lord Creighton in a confidential mien. “Only if provoked, my lord. You won’t provoke him, will you?” She spoke as if frightfully concerned for his welfare.

Lord Creighton’s tiny eyes almost popped to normal size. “What—” he ran a finger around his tight collar, swallowing—”what exactly provokes him, Miss Devere?”

Lilac bit her lip as if she were pondering the dilemma. “We haven’t quite figured that out yet.”

His lordship gulped at Lilac’s words but bravely stood his ground. Lord Creighton considered himself a Man of the World. T’wouldn’t do to appear squeamish in front of the miss.

Rejar chuckled to himself. So, his little minx was trying to be rid of the flug. Too obvious, my Lilac. I will have to teach you about subtlety. He almost purred aloud at the enticing idea.

At that moment, Lilac turned a beseeching gaze to the cat, hoping against all hope that her pet would help her out by being obnoxious to the dandified twit.

You want me to help you with this one? Rejar made a great show of yawning.

Why, oh why, did a cat never do what you wanted him to? Lilac rolled her eyes in disgust. She’d just have to handle the coxcomb on her own. “Lord Creighton, I was just going into the garden—”

“Without your parasol?” Auntie Whumples tittered at her disapprovingly.

“I quite agree.” Lord Creighton shook his head firmly. “We wouldn’t want to spoil this lovely complexion, would we?” Surprising Lilac, Lord Creighton ran a clammy finger down the curve of her cheek.

Rejar cocked his head to one side. Ah, so the flug believes he has the right. I think, not. You give up on me too easily, Lilac. ...

The cat suddenly hissed, surprising everyone.

Whereupon he stood calmly watching as his lordship leapt three feet in the air.

Upon landing, Lord Creighton glared at the wretched beast from a safe distance of several feet. Trying to recover his composure, Creighton then affected what he considered a strong, masculine pose, making him look as if he had swallowed a bad piece of mutton.

“We should retire to the sitting room, my dear. I fear the strong sun might be too harsh for your frail constitution.”

Frail constitution? Rejar let his expert gaze skim the voluptuous lines of Lilac’s curvaceous form. The man was a half-wit. He would wager this constitution would go all night long with him.

This time he did purr at the very thought.

Lilac was fuming. She was not going to get rid of him! Her shoulders slumped as she followed “his boorishness” into the sitting room.

Giving the appearance of extreme feline boredom, Rejar made a great production out of stretching before he finally got up to follow.

His blue eye twinkled. This should prove most amusing.

* * *

Lord Creighton sat sprawled in the middle of the old-fashioned Queen Anne settee.

To Lilac’s irritation, the dandy never failed to sniff disdainfully at the outmoded decor of the sitting room. So what if their furnishings were not “all the crack”? She liked the way the room looked and felt! Bother Lord Creighton and the rest of the ton with their silly expectations!

“More tea, my lord?” Auntie Whumple’s voice came from somewhere in the shadows of the room. While proper behavior decreed she must chaperone, she didn’t want to appear to be too intrusive.

“No, thank you, Lady Whumples. I’m quite finished.” He fastened his small eyes on Lilac. “Miss Devere, I was wondering; will you be attending the Stanhope’s soiree?”

“When is it?” As she spoke. Lilac noticed the cat jump onto the back of the settee behind Lord Creighton’s head. He settled himself comfortably across the rim, half-leaning against the man’s shoulders.

Lord Creighton froze the instant he realized the wretched beast was actually leaning against him. The position brought the animal frightfully close to his throat. He gulped nervously.

“Lord Creighton?” Lilac prompted.

“Ah ... yes. It’s the Friday after next.”

The cat began swishing his tail. Up. Down. Up. Down. Lord Creighton gave her a sickly smile.

“I haven’t been invited,” she replied. Thank God.

“Yes, well, that can be remedied, you see, I—” A bushy tail draped across the top of his head, hanging down over his forehead.

Being a gentleman, Lord Creighton was obliged to ignore it.

“I—I thought I might—”

The tail began to seesaw atop his head in an undulating motion. Up. Down. Up. Down.

“That is, if your—”

Lilac tried her best not to laugh. She truly did.

But when the tip of the cat’s tail reared up to wave at her from the vicinity of Lord Creighton’s eyebrows, she was undone. She clutched her stomach, peels of laughter issuing forth.

“Miss Devere,”—Lord Creighton looked concerned—”are you quite all right?”

“Yes, yes, I’m fine.” She wiped the corner of her eye, trying to regain her composure. From the corner of the room, she thought she heard Auntie Whumples stifle a few titters of her own.

“You were saying, my lord?”

“Perhaps you would care for some snuff to calm you?” He reached into his coat pocket with his left hand and held a little enameled box out to her.

Lilac detested snuff. She thought it the most disgusting of habits. “No, thank you. I do not partake of snuff.”

“May I?”

She waved her hand, indicating he should please himself.

Lord Creighton began to prepare himself for the fine show he was about to perform to impress her.

Carefully, his left hand held and opened the tiny box. With a movement Lilac knew he must have practiced before a mirror for hours to accomplish, he let the dainty lace of his sleeve flutter against his pampered right hand as he ever-so-carefully raised a pinch to his quavering nostrils for a delicate snort.

Rejar was stupefied.

His mouth parted in disbelief as he watched the bizarre ritual. What was the zorph-brained fool doing? Did he actually think to impress a woman with this ridiculous display?

Wait. What if the powder had magical qualities of some kind? It could even be ... an aphrodisiac. This required research.

Rejar leaned over Lord Creighton’s shoulder to get a better look at the mysterious powder. He stuck his head close to the still-opened box to see what curious secret he would uncover.

Lord Creighton, suddenly noticing a huge cat head looming over his shoulder, gave an involuntary jump, sending a cloud of snuff into the air and all over the inquisitive kitty’s face.

Lilac winced as the poor cat instantly reared off the couch howling and sneezing.

“Oh my goodness!” Lilac jumped up.

Bedlam ensued.

Making a dash, she just missed the sneezing cat as he careened against a side table and sent one of Auntie’s vases crashing to the floor.

Auntie Whumples wailed in the background, screeching at Lilac, “Stop that beast!”

Lord Creighton stood by helplessly, uttering meaningless lilting phrases of apology while she chased willy-nilly after the cat, who was snarling his head off.

By the time she had finally cornered him, the poor thing had sneezed himself silly and had collapsed, gasping for breath beneath a chair.

Lord Creighton came running over. “Do accept my apologies. Miss Devere. To make up for my deplorable behavior, I insist that you attend the soiree. I will stop by the Stanhope’s this very day to ensure an invitation is sent to both yourself and Lady Whumples.”

Ever the opportunist. Lilac grimaced. “That’s not necessary, Lord Creighton. If you’ll just—”

“Oh, but I insist!”

Leave. Lilac bit her tongue. There was no way she could possibly refuse without appearing churlish. She sighed, willing to say anything at this point just to be rid of him. “Very well, Lord Creighton.”

Now that he had gotten what he came for—Lilac’s presence at the soiree—Creighton quickly made his farewells.

Exasperated, Lilac plopped into a chair. “Zounds,” she said imitating Lord Creighton’s nasal voice. “What a coxcomb he is!”

The corners of Auntie’s mouth twitched. “Be that as it may, child, his lordship did provide us with a much coveted invitation to the Stanhope’s.”

Lilac looked at her aunt askance, “Coveted by whom?”

“Coveted by me for you. It’s an excellent opportunity for you to meet all the right gentlemen, my dear. We mustn’t waste any opportunity.”

“But Auntie Wh—”

“No buts, my child. I have been entrusted with your welfare by your late father. God rest his noble heart, and I shan’t fail him. We will be at the Stanhope’s soiree.” So proclaimed. Lady Whumples left the room.

Damn and blast, but her aunt could be stubborn!

Rejar, still gasping from his ordeal with the mysterious powder, listened to the conversation between the two women with interest. This soiree they spoke of seemed to be some kind of social gathering.

The old one had spoken of the men she wanted Lilac to meet.

It was time he began to view more of this new world of his. He would do what Familiars had been doing for the wizards of Aviara throughout the ages; he would investigate the situation.

Rejar decided he would begin immediately. Discretely, he exited the house, heading into the streets of London.

What he eventually saw staggered him.

Chapter Two

It was a world of hideous savagery.

A cooling night wind blew across Rejar’s sensitive face while he gazed longingly up at the stars. Lifting the long strands of his hair in gentle wafting motions, the soothing breeze did little to ease him.

He was sitting in the window seat in Lilac’s bedroom. A habit of late. Especially in the small hours of the night when the peace of sleep was not to come. His large frame completely filled the seat; he rather liked the feeling of being enclosed on three sides. He supposed it was a carry over from his other self, not bothering to give it too much thought.

His sights flicked over to the bed where Lilac slept.

Even if the light of the full moon had not been illuminating the room, he still would have been able to see her quite clearly, his eyes having the ability of rapidly adjusting to changing light conditions.

Familiars often could sense physical changes in the body as well; and Lilac’s even, measured breathing told him she was deeply asleep. Conversely, any change in her breathing tempo precluded wakefulness, alerting him when to metamorphose back into his cat self.

To his advantage, Lilac usually fell asleep quickly and was slow to rouse. If nothing disturbed her, he knew she would sleep through the night.

If only I could do the same...

He briefly closed his eyes, trying to shut out the untenable horrors he had witnessed in the past two weeks. It did little good. Rejar believed the nightmarish visions would forever remain with him:

Mothers begging in the streets for food for their starving children while just a few streets away men and women dined in opulent excess, seeming either not aware of the misery, or not even caring, for that matter.

The streets were full of offal.

People lived in the worst filth and slime he had ever witnessed on any world. Yet there were others, those more privileged, who lived in grand houses with many servants to wait upon them. This wealth in and of itself was not disturbing; it was their seeming indifference to the conditions of those who suffered around them which staggered him.

He, himself, was from a privileged Aviaran family; his father, Krue, was a member of the ruling council, as well as a high-power Charl mystic. Yet no one in his family would ever allow such deprivation to go unanswered.

A more horrifying memory surfaced, causing him to shudder.

One day he had seen a small child run over in the street by a conveyance. The owner merely signaled the driver to move on, not even stopping to see to the injured boy.