Authors: Scott V. Duff
I drove the drugs from their brains, none too gently either, leaving the residues in their bloodstreams for their organs to deal with. “Muldoon!” I shouted, causing loose items to tremble on the furniture around us. Both men bolted upright in bed, shouting incomprehensibly. The big one quickly pulled a Russian Makarov from the headboard but Jimmy crushed his hand around it before he could draw on anyone and took it away from him, maybe a fingernail or two with it, too. The women were screaming and babbling and both men were now bitchin’ and moanin’, then the threats started as they realized we weren’t their men.
“Shut up!” I said very loudly with force behind the words. “Leonard Muldoon, for your repeated crimes against my kind and me, you have two choices: I can either rend your mind to goo as I drain every iota of information from it then drop you into the nearest volcano, or you can cooperate fully for the authorities that follow.”
Muldoon stared at me for a moment, then said softly, “You’re him, aren’t you? McClure. You’re him.” I stared back, silent. “I’ll cooperate.”
“Damn,” I whispered, glancing into the corner again. “Well, then. My first question: How does a Scottish American get to be called ‘the Russian’?”
“Long story short, he stole it,” I told Peter. “Lock, stock, and fifty-year-old reputation. He fell into a deal gone bad in the Philippines and the rest is sociopathic history.”
“But that gives us his client lists, right?” he asked as we walked through the house in the Throne Room. “We know whose doing this now?”
“Not directly,” I answered, watching Peter look about the room. “Much of that will come from digging through his records. He kept a lot of them in a lot of different places. Muldoon never expected to get caught and sure as hell never expected to roll over for us.”
“I think this room should be a little more modern,” Peter said. “This is too Sixties for us.”
“The Sixties had a furniture style?” I asked.
“1860s,” he added. “Lighten the paneling, thinner borders along the walls, not that much, really. More chairs and less couches.”
“Are you sure?” Ethan called from the hall. “If a fight’s gonna break out, that’s the room for it and if the furniture’s too light it’ll shatter too easily and somebody’s gonna get hurt.”
Peter glanced over at me before answering, clearly lost. “Was there a complete thought in that sentence? Preferably one that makes sense.”
“Several actually,” Ethan replied, his eyebrows shot up as his head cocked back. He walked in shoving his hands in his pockets. “This room, ostensibly a library, sits between the lobby and the big dining room. During parties, it’ll be used as a gathering place; during business hours, probably as a private waiting area for groups. Either way, if a conflict is going to arise, it’s more likely to be here than any of the surrounding rooms. In the event that conflict goes to violence to the extent that the furniture is involved in any way, the weight is important to consider. Too light and it can be used as a weapon. If it breaks during a fight, the pieces become weapons, either clubs or jagged pikes. Hence, it could be considered that the lighter the furniture the more likely someone will get hurt. Satisfied?”
“That there was a cogent thought, yes, congratulations,” Peter said, grinning and bowing slightly. “I’ll give on the couches then, but leave some chairs that can be moved around, dangerous or not. Lighten the wood tones and bring some color in here. Make this a room
for
people to gather in during parties.”
“Hmm, with so many entrances, I would have turned it into a bar,” I muttered, mentally measuring spaces behind us.
“And people always gather where the alcohol is,” Kieran said from the ballroom entrance. “That’s the first thing you’ve said about the house. Did they do that well for you, Seth?”
“Not so much, but as I have so much say in other things, unless it’s a glaring problem, it’s nice to have somebody else’s tastes once in a while,” I said. “And overall, the guys did a good job. Honestly, it didn’t occur to me to increase the size of the house. Want to see how they’re gonna do that since it’s the middle part they’re adding.”
“So are we done here?” Ethan asked glancing around the room.
“Almost,” I replied. “Zero wanted us to check out the lobby last.”
“It looked good to me when I went through earlier,” Peter said, following Ethan out.
“Yeah, we passed through there several times, too,” Kieran said confused. “It looked fine to us.”
“Hey, I’m just passing along messages from diminutive people,” I said, meeting up with Kieran and following Peter and Ethan out to the lobby, although foyer would be a better word.
“Finished with the rest of the house, sirs?” Zero called eagerly from the center of the foyer.
“Yep,” Peter answered. “So what’s so special about the lobby? We’ve all been through here already and didn’t see anything…”
“We haven’t placed the emblems yet, Master Peter,” Zero chirped cheerfully. “Commander Byrnes wanted more direct input for this design.”
“Okay,” I said, shrugging. “Show us what ya got, then.”
“Yes, Lord Daybreak,” Zero chittered happily. “As the house will be used mostly as a meeting place for business matters, Commander Byrnes feels that it should bear some emblematic representation of the businesses in question. There are matters of Daybreak and Gilán, Clan McClure, and McClure and Associates to consider. We have devised these emblems to etch in the floor.” He waved his hands at the floor of the foyer, pushing hard on the brownie magic hidden there and displaying four wonderfully designed sigils. They were simple representations of Daybreak, Gilán, House McClure and McClure and Associates, colorful and prismatic.
“You’re missing a few,” Kieran said with a crooked smile. Eyeing the foyer for size, he pointed to the Gilán symbol. “Make that one a third larger and center it. At the bottom, directly in front of the doors, add the symbol for FirstGuard Securities. To the left around the curve, House McClure and to the left of that, McClure and Associates. On the right, put Daybreak. And last, create a symbol for Archdruid and I think you’ll have it covered.”
“That’s a lot of emphasis on me and, really, how much call for Archdruid will we need?” I asked, chuckling. “Why aren’t we putting your pedigree out here? Or Peter’s?”
“I don’t think my credentials will translate well,” Kieran said skeptically.
“Besides, you make us work too hard to feel like we’re riding your coattails,” Peter said grinning.
“Your pardon, Free Lord?” Zero asked, standing in front of Kieran. “We do not know an icon or sigil for Archdruid, sir. Can you provide one?”
Kieran laughed. “Give me a few days to look into it. I was hoping you guys would know something. For now, use nine concentric circles with an ‘S’ slashed through it. Whatever looks good to you.”
“Why are you calling me that, anyway? It’s not like I learned the entire art in a day,” I said.
“We don’t call you any of these things, little brother,” Kieran said grinning. “This is for the public and the more we do to protect the furniture in the library, the better.”
“I think he’s gone loopy from hunger,” Ethan remarked earnestly.
“That’s all you think about, food,” Peter said, chuckling.
“It’s all right. We’re done here,” I said. Zero was off making modifications to the floor, so I had to find the next in the chain of command. “Nil, have you got all the notes you need?”
“Yes, Lord,” Nil trilled, suddenly in front of us. “We will have the necessary changes in place by morning for your approval.”
“Cool. Till morning, then,” I said, smiling at him. “Now, Pete, I agree with Ethan, food. You said I
had
to come to dinner…”
Rolling his eyes disparagingly, Peter said, “Well, at least he’s got this part of his teenage years right. All he thinks about is food, too. Come on, then, I’m sure there’s something I can shovel onto a plate for you two.” I shifted us to his front door without notice, just as Peter turned for the front of the house. He stumbled slightly expecting the step that wasn’t there anymore.
“Watch that first step, Petey-boy,” Ethan said, eyes alight with smarm. “It’s a doozy being all flush to the floor and all.” Kieran and I chuckled as we pushed into Peter’s apartment, hearing a collection of voices inside talking and laughing, Mike, David, and Steven, at least, and a dozen or more brownies. I told Peter I didn’t snoop into his apartment so I didn’t look ahead. But I definitely smelled…
“Nachos!” Ethan cried and tripled his speed around Peter with Kieran fast on his heels.
“Good evening, Lord Daybreak, Master Peter,” chirped Ellorn, smiling up at us and walking sideways to pace us. “Quite a busy day you’ve had today. The Garrison was very happy to see some activity.”
“And they did an extraordinary job with phenomenal coordination between the groups,” I said.
“Glad to hear it!” Byrnes said loudly from the far end of the table. “I thought it went well, but seeing as I was watching from a distance, the confirmation from you is very good.”
“Ted, I didn’t know you were here,” I said. “I imagine it occurred just as you saw. It was amazingly quick. And since we were there illegally anyway, I sort of stole some stuff before I called Messner.”
“Stealing? I thought he was a fixer. What’s to steal?” Dad asked from the end of the table near Ted. Grinning around a mouthful of nachos, I waved at Dad and looked at who all was down the table from Ethan. Ted, Steven, David, Dad, and Mike. Peter dropped some obscure Spanish beer on the table and sat down.
“Arms dealer and smuggler in general,” Peter responded for me. I washed down the spicy food with the dark amber, appreciating Peter’s choice.
“Lots of guns and ammunition, mostly,” I told them. “Cash and, of course, information.”
“Did he give up his client against us?” Kieran asked as he sat opposite me.
“Not exactly, but his information did give us two different training grounds for the mercenary groups and one for some cell clusters. And I’m sure that once we’ve dug around in his financials, we’ll figure out who and probably a few more sites like those three. Messner will give that stuff up to the CIA or somebody when he’s exhausted his own uses, I’m sure, but I let him decide all that. I did ask him to keep my name out if he could, though.”
“You didn’t call the Pentagon?” Peter asked chuckling.
“I gave them Muldoon’s name and aliases and they couldn’t draw a correlation between them,” I said, pulling some more nachos onto my plate. “Seems to me that if I’m asking about four people and you look at four perfectly clean people that you really might want to look closer. They didn’t, so they don’t get the prize.” Shrugging it off, I shoved more food in my mouth. There wasn’t a restaurant in the world that could cook this good. Wonder what was for dinner? “Who are we waiting for?”
“Just Gordon and Thomas,” Peter replied. “They want to talk about the conference after the fact. Sort of a post mortem.”
“You mean they want to bitch at me for throwing a hissy,” I deadpanned, causing the other end of the table to erupt in laughter. Peter and Ethan joined them, much more lightly, but Kieran was following my lead and stuffing his face as fast as he could.
“You threw a hissy fit?” Mike asked, still laughing.
“I think I’ve seen you mad twice in your life,” Dad added, almost giggling. “And once was against the elf-king.”
“It was definitely a hissy,” Ethan confirmed, picking up his bottle and sitting back. “For all the right reasons, though, and it might have done some good. Forced some Greek guys into a nearly impossible task, destroyed Arthur completely, then stormed out in a flash of light.”
“You didn’t mention the druids proclaimed him the Archdruid,” Peter said to Ethan pleasantly, leaning into the table. “And that was just before lunch.”
“You destroyed Arthur?” Mike asked. “What about Excalibur? Everybody said it was real! How could you have killed the Saviour of England?”
“I didn’t kill him, Mike,” I said, taken aback at the thought. “I took his sword away from him and it wasn’t Excalibur. It also wasn’t my fault. If those idiots hadn’t been egging him on, he wouldn’t have attacked me.”
“Eh, not great loss. Arthur was a pretentious bore,” Dad said, waving his beer bottle in the air. “But Willis Hugh in his right mind is formidable.”
“I doubt he’ll be in his right mind any time soon,” I said with a grimace.
Gordon, Thomas, and Ryan appeared on Peter’s balcony, with Thomas clutching at Ryan like he’d fall. Or maybe they’d fallen in love when I wasn’t looking and this was an uncomfortable embrace.
“What
are
you doing to him, Thomas?” I asked, out of ideas but dying to know.
“I, um, ahem, wasn’t sure how much contact was necessary to bring someone else through…” he stammered in answer, releasing a red-faced Ryan.
“Generally, my permission is enough for a person,” I said grinning. “Otherwise no amount of contact would be enough. Evenin’, Gordon, Ryan.”
“Guys, grab a beer and come on in,” Peter called.
“Well, what did you do to the Greeks that was ‘nearly impossible’?” Dad asked.
“He’s making them translate Hospitality into five languages,” Gordon said boisterously as he left the balcony. “It was hilarious! Well, later it was funny. At the time it was aggravating.” Dad busted a gut laughing while our assistants looked on, confused.
“Why is that funny?” David asked, directing the question to Gordon since Dad was still laughing.
“As Seth has been proving time and again, our understanding of the Rules of Hospitality is so mangled and distorted it’s
not
funny,” Gordon explained, grimacing. “What
was
funny is that Seth keeps proving it in the most obvious way possible. ‘No, your Rules aren’t valid. They won’t hold the Oath. There is something wrong with them.’ It was pure wickedness that he pulled his copy of the Accords out. Scared the livin’ daylights outta all of ‘em.”
“Which copy of the Accords do you have?” Dad asked me, smiling.
“I use the Queen’s,” I said.
“Why did that translation scare anyone?” he asked confused.
Kieran chuckled. “He’s being modest. It isn’t a translation. Seth means he has an exact physical copy of the Queen’s original document complete with their full intent on the Oath. It’s like they’re standing next to you.”