Chapter Twenty
It was with a new feeling of vulnerability that I stood before the double glass doors of the Carew Tower and adjusted my hat in the murky reflection, and I jumped when the doorman leaned forward and opened it for me. A warm gust of air blew my hair back, and he smiled, tipping his hat in salute when I came in with small steps and whispered, "Thank you."
He answered me cheerfully, and I forced myself to straighten up. So I had been shunned. Edden wouldn't know. Neither would Ms. Walker unless I told her. If I walked up there looking like prey, she would chew me up and spit me out.
My jaw clenched. "Stupid department of moral and ethical standards has their head up their ass," I muttered, determined to fight this all the way to the Supreme Court-but the reality was, no one would care.
The restaurant at the top of the tower had its own dedicated elevator, and I could feel the doorman's eyes on me as I clicked and clacked my way to it, forcing myself to find a confident posture. The elevator, too, had a doorman of sorts, and I told him who I was and gave Edden's name as he checked his computer for reservations.
I hiked my bag up higher on my shoulder and read the restaurant's events sign as I waited. Apparently someone had reserved the entire restaurant for a party tomorrow.
My flagging confidence took another hit as I remembered Pierce. I was shunned, my ex-boyfriend's killer was roaming free, I was doubting my ability to stir something as complex as a locator amulet, Al was abusing our relationship...I had to start fixing things.
Jenks moved, startling me as he wiggled out and sat on my shoulder. "Your pulse just dropped," he said warily. "Is your blood sugar low?"
I shook my head, smiling thinly at the doorman when he got off the phone and pushed the button to open the elevator. "I've got a lot to do today," I said as I got in the small, opulent lift.
"And we're late," Jenks grumbled as he took off his cap and tried to arrange his hair in the reflection of the shiny walls. He had flitted to the wide banister circling the inside of the elevator, and twin pixies made an impressive display of winged physique.
I forced myself to straighten as I checked that my complexion charm was in place. Shun me, would you? "It's called arriving fashionably late, Jenks," I murmured as I took my own hat off and tucked a curl behind an ear.
"I hate being late," he complained, making faces to pop his ears as the pressure shifted.
"It's a five-star restaurant," I came back with. "They won't have a problem waiting."
The lift chimed and the doors slid open. Jenks moved to my shoulder with a huff, and together we looked out onto the revolving restaurant.
My posture relaxed in pleasure, and I stepped out, smiling, as my worries seemed to pale. Below me the river wound a slush gray ribbon through the white hills of Cincinnati. The Hollows lay beyond, peaceful in the coming dusk. The sun was nearing the horizon, painting everything with a red-and-gold sheen, and clouds reflected it all. Beautiful.
"Ma'am?" a masculine voice prompted, and I brought my gaze inside. He looked like the twin of the guy downstairs, right down to the black suit and blue eyes. "If you'll follow me?"
I'd been up here only once before, with Kisten for breakfast, and I silently walked behind the host, taking in again the rich fabrics; the Tiffany lights; and the mahogany, pre-Turn tables with carved feet. Rosemary and pink rosebuds were on every table. The sight of the booth where Kisten and I had shared morning conversation over French toast made a surprisingly soft ache in me, more fond remembrance than hurt, and I found I could smile, glad that I could think of him without heartache.
The place was empty but for the staff setting up for tonight, and after passing a small stage and dance floor, I spotted Edden at a window table with an attractive older woman. She was Ceri's size, dark where the elf was light, with very thick black hair, falling straight on her back. Her nose was small, and she had thick lips and luscious eyelashes. It wasn't a young face, but her few wrinkles made her look wise and venerable. Graceful, aged hands moved when she talked, and she wore no rings. She sat across from Edden, slim and upright in her stark white, full-length dress, not resting against the back of her chair. Ms. Walker had the view-as well as the poised presence that said she was in charge.
Jenks's wings brushed my neck, and he said, "She looks like Piscary."
"You think she's Egyptian?" I whispered, confused.
Jenks snorted. "How the Turn should I know? I meant she is in control. Look at her."
I nodded, disliking the banshee already. Edden hadn't noticed us, fixated on what she was saying. He looked good in his suit, having worked hard to keep his shape through the late-thirties meltdown and into his midfifties. Actually...he seemed captivated by the woman, and a warning flag went up. Anyone as self-possessed and beautiful as she was was dangerous.
As if hearing my unspoken thoughts, the woman turned. Her heavy lips closed and she stared. Evaluating me, are you? I thought, sending my eyebrows high in challenge.
Edden followed her gaze, and his demeanor brightened. Getting to his feet, I heard him say, "Here she is," and he came to greet me.
"Sorry I'm late," I said as he took my elbow to hustle me to the table. "Marshal made me get a massage to help with my aura." Yes. Blame it on Marshal, not me needing to recoup after finding out I'm shunned.
"Really?" the squat man said. "Does it help? How do you feel?"
I knew he was thinking about his son, and I set my hand atop his. "Wonderful. Jenks said my aura looks tons better, and I feel great. Don't let me leave without giving you the woman's phone number. She makes hospital calls. I asked. No extra charge for the FIB."
Jenks made a scoffing sound. "She says she feels great?" he said. "More like stinking drunk. The damned woman nearly smashed her car drifting it into a parking spot."
"How's Glenn?" I asked, ignoring Jenks as Edden helped me out of my coat.
"Ready to go home." Edden gave me a look up and down. "You look good, Rachel. I never would have guessed that you had to get an AMA."
I beamed as Jenks rolled his eyes. "Thanks."
The waiter holding out his hand for my coat was eyeing Jenks. Edden saw his gaze and moved his chin to make his mustache bunch up. "Can we get a honey pot?" he asked, trying to put Jenks at ease.
"I appreciate the offer, Edden," Jenks said. "But I'm working. Peanut butter would be good, though." His gaze went to the table in its white-and-gold perfection, and his expression became panicked, as if he'd asked for grits and pig's feet instead of the source high in protein he needed because of the cold.
The waiter, of course, picked right up on his unease. "Pe-e-e-eanut butter-r-r-r-r?" he said in a patronizing tone, and Jenks let a wisp of red dust slip.
My eyes narrowed as the man implied with those two words that Jenks was a bumpkin, or worse, not even a person. "You ha-a-ave peanut butter, don't you?" I drawled in my best Al impression. "Freshly ground, absolutely nothing out of a jar will do! Low salt. I'll have a raspberry water." I had sampled Kisten's raspberry water after finding my French toast not to my taste. It had some fancy glaze on it. Okay, maybe I was a bumpkin, but making Jenks feel like one was rude.
The man's face went blank. "Yes, ma'am." Gesturing for a second waiter to get my water and Jenks's peanut butter, he helped me with my chair, and then a menu-which I ignored since he'd given it to me. I had a view, too. Jenks hovered by my place setting as if reluctant to set down on something so fine. His flowing black outfit looked great among the china and crystal, and after I turned an empty water glass over for him, he gratefully sat on the elevated foot. Edden was to my right, the banshee to my left, and my back was presently to the door. But that would change as the hour advanced and the restaurant turned.
"Ms. Walker, this is Rachel Morgan," Edden said as he settled back in his chair. "Rachel, Ms. Walker has been adamant about meeting you. She's the administrative coordinator of banshee internal affairs west of the Mississippi."
Edden seemed unusually flustered, and another flag went up. Jenks, too, didn't seem to like that the usually levelheaded man looked almost twitterpated. But she was a banshee, beautiful and alluring in her sophistication and exotic beauty.
Shoving my increasing dislike away, I extended my hand across the corner of the table. "It's a pleasure, Ms. Walker. I'm sure you know we can use all the help we can get. Mia Harbor turning rogue has us in a tight spot." Jenks smirked, and I flushed. I was trying to be nice. So sue me. I hadn't said anything that wasn't true. It was obvious I couldn't bring Mia in if she resisted.
The older woman took my hand, and I tensed, searching for any sensation of her siphoning off my aura or emotions. Her eyes were a rich brown, and with the bone structure of a supermodel and her wrinkled but clear complexion, she was classically alluring.
"You can call me Cleo," she said, and I drew my hand away before I shuddered. Her voice was as exotic as the rest of her, a low slurry of warmth insinuating a promise of naughty but nice. God, the woman was like a vampire. Maybe that was what was putting me on edge.
That I had pulled away was not missed by Edden or Ms. Walker, and a faint, knowing smile curved the edges of her mouth up. "It's good to meet you," she said, shifting to lean forward. "I'll help find little Mia, but I'm here for you. Your reputation is worth investigating."
My fake smile faded, and Edden, hunched over and guilty, started to play with his drinking glass. Slowly I turned to him, calming my anger before the banshee noticed it. But she did anyway.
The cool woman put her elbows charmingly on the table and eyed him almost coyly. "You lied to get her here?"
Edden glanced at me, then back down to the river. "Not at all," he grumped, his neck going red. "I stressed certain things is all."
Stressed certain things, my ass. But I smiled at the woman, keeping my hands below the table, as if she'd soiled them with her touch. "Is this because I survived Holly's attack?" I asked.
"In large part, yes," she said, lacing her fingers together and propping her chin on them. "Would you mind if I felt your aura?"
I stiffened. "No. I mean yes, I would mind," I amended. "I don't trust you."
Edden winced, but Ms. Walker laughed. The comfortable sound of it made the waiters just out of earshot look up, and my stomach clenched. She was too perfect, too assured. And her eyes were dilating like a vampire's.