Humiliation will work on somebody like Cartwright; she’s reasonably rational, but a lot of the members are none too tightly wrapped. They find out the Alfar have been pulling their strings, even just one rogue Alfar, and some whack job might go bug-fuck and decide to take care of some Alfar himself as payback. We wouldn’t be removing a fuse, we’d be lighting it.”
I sat with that for a few minutes. Remembered the faces of angry people from the news reels during integration. I found I had lost my appetite and set aside the half-eaten donut. “I see your point. So, what can we do?”
“I’ll write my article and then we go to Cartwright. Use it to get her to back off and tone down the rhetoric.”
I gave a quick, humorless laugh. “I might even be able to keep her from joining in this arbitration as an interested party. This thing is confusing enough and hard enough without a lot of grandstanding from Human First.”
We sat silent for a few minutes, then Merlin said, “So Qwendar wants a total separation from humans. I can’t say I’m all broken up about that. I worry about the Alfar deciding to go into politics.”
“So do I, but that isn’t exactly what he wants. He wants interactions between humans and Alfar to be the old-fashioned kind.”
“Meaning what?” Merlin asked.
“The Alfar take us as slaves and playthings.”
Maslin, the veteran and chronicler of countless bush wars, caught on immediately. “Ah, and for that to happen Qwendar’s got to have peasants with pitchforks going after the Alfar.”
“Making their only choice to retreat or die,” I finished.
“That’s why he needs another bloodbath—Alfar killing humans,” Maslin mused. He set aside his donut. He also seemed to have lost his appetite. “Do you have any idea what he’s got planned?”
“I think so. And I’m going to need your help with that, too.” I paused and pinned them both with a look. “Do you guys own tuxedos?”
As I was hustling through the office heading for the doors, David caught me. “A moment, please.” I followed him into his office. “What do we do about the arbitration?” David asked, once he had shut the door. “Can you face Qwendar and pretend nothing happened?”
“Do you actually think he’d show back up?”
“Yes, I do. It’s how I would play it, and it’s the kind of arrogance one expects from his kind. Also, he knows he’s been cleared by his alibi. He runs no risk, and he might be able to rattle you.”
“He probably knew I was alive even before the police came calling. Whether he ever intended to take his goon into Fey or not, Qwendar would have had to return to the Equestrian Center to either kill Charles or take him away.”
David picked up a pen and flipped it between his fingers. “I should ask some of the uniforms and the crime scene people if they spotted him. Not proof of his involvement but certainly suggestive.”
“And still not enough to pull in the authorities, if that’s what you were thinking,” I said. “Look, since he knows I’m alive, then there’s no advantage to having us meet. And I’ve got a ton to do, so if I can miss the hearings that would probably be good.”
“Do you want him to worry over what you are up to or think you’re shattered by the experience and have run back to New York?”
“Much as I hate to play the victim, let’s go with shattered. He’s more likely to believe that anyway; he has a really low opinion of humans. Also, if he’s worried, he might change his plans, and we’re already working off a whole lot of assumptions about just what those plans might be.”
“Yes, and that’s what worries me,” David said sourly. “But we can’t risk spooking him, so I’ll put it about that you have returned to New York.”
“Qwendar knows where I live, and I think he’s had people watching me, so I better be seen going to the airport. I can then double back, rent a different car, and hopefully shake him.”
“Yes, that makes sense, though I am disturbed by how good you are at all this hole-and-corner behavior. Oh, I have enlisted Hank in this mad endeavor. He’s a vampire and of my line, and I figured we could use the extra help.” With that he waved me out of the office.
Jeff was at home. With my phone’s navigation app guiding me I headed off for Newport Beach. The actor’s house sat on a promontory and looked out over the Pacific. Today it was a deep azure with only small whitecaps. I drove up to the gate and put in the access code that Jeff had provided. The large gates swung open, and I drove up the curving cobblestone driveway to the house. It was an Italianate structure with the usual red tile roof, lots of balconies filled with pots of blooming geraniums. Bougainvillea tumbled over stone walls in a riot of red and pink and purple.
Once parked, I paused and listened to the deep-throated roar of the ocean breaking on the cliffs below the house. The air was moist on my skin and the smell of brine tickled my nostrils. Jeff opened the front door before I could ring the bell.
“How?” I pointed at my car, me, the door.
“Security cameras. I saw you driving in. Come in and meet Kate.”
The entryway was polished flagstone. A curving staircase terminated directly in front of the door. The rich mahogany glowed in the sunlight pouring in a round, faceted window halfway up the stairs. For an instant I imagined myself in a gorgeous gown descending those steps while John looked up admiringly. I pushed away the fantasy and followed Jeff down a hall, through a modern white and chrome kitchen large enough to hold a long benched table and into a room that looked like an enclosed deck. The room was a horseshoe-shaped curve lined with windows and finished in heavy teak. It made me think of Tahitian beach houses. The ocean flexed and rolled outside the windows.
Kate Billingham sat on a window seat, a book held loosely between her fingers. She was lovely in person, with long auburn hair brushing her shoulders, dark brows, and pansy brown eyes. Without lighting and professional makeup I could see tiny crow’s feet around her eyes and a few lines in her forehead. Clearly no Botox had been applied to that heart-shaped face.
She stood and extended her hand. “How do you do? I’ve heard so much about you from Jeff.”
“Uh-oh,” I said.
The hair swirled as she shook her head. “No, no. All good. About how brave you are, and I believe he called you ‘sharp as a tack,’ which in Midwesterner speak is very high praise indeed.”
I glanced over at the actor, who smiled and shrugged. “Thank you,” I said.
“Well, I’ll leave you two to talk. I’ll have coffee and snacks waiting in the kitchen when you’re done.” She floated out of the room.
Jeff indicated a window seat. I sat down, and he pulled around a wicker chair to sit facing me. “Okay, you sounded very serious on the phone. What’s up?”
“First, a question. Can you get six people into the Academy Awards? And not in the nosebleed seats, but down on the main floor.”
“What? Why?”
“I’m pretty sure there’s going to be another Jondin incident, but with Jujuran in the starring role this time. Or some other Alfar that he can get blood from. Or maybe a lot of Alfar, I don’t know, but it will be bad.”
“Okay, you are officially scaring the crap out of me, and I don’t even know what you’re talking about. Blood? Him? Who him? Jujuran?”
“Qwendar. He’s on a holy crusade to save his people from evil human influence, and he’s doing it by forcing elves to kill humans. Then we turn on the Alfar, igniting a big war, the Alfar retreat back into Fey, the other Powers get worried because they’re always worried about peasants with pitchforks, and we’ve set back human- Powers relations by decades if not centuries. And you think I sound crazy,” I finished.
“Weirdly enough, I don’t.” He gave me a sick smile. “Maybe because I’ve starred in too many action movies, but it all makes a sort of twisted sense.” He stood and paced, the distressed teak floorboards creaking lightly with each step. It set an odd counterpoint to the sigh and boom of the waves below us. “Was he behind Kerrinan and Jondin?”
