Dominic (31 page)

The guard laughed. “He probably stuffs his trousers to impress the ladies.”

“I’m not impressed,” she said, sober faced.

They’d spoken in an Else World dialect, obviously and erroneously assuming he wouldn’t understand.

The Facilitator drew near, trying to smooth matters over. “For the duration of the talks, a thorough search wil remain customary,” he said,

attempting to placate Vincent.

“I have nothing to hide.” Vincent released the female guard’s arm. Her hand worked at the fastenings and then dipped inside the front of his

trousers, unceremoniously groping him. Her eyes darted to his, widening at what she’d discovered.

He smiled at her and raised his brows. She blushed, something he’d never seen an Else World guard do.

“Can we hurry this along?” Julius complained from behind him. Presumably he was being searched himself, something he would hate, for he was

less free with his person than were Vincent and his brothers.

The female removed her hand and nodded to the other guard. “It’s al him.”

The male guard gaped and nudged another of the guards, whispering. A mild stir rippled through the rest of the ranks, swiftly gaining momentum. It

seemed his reputation was about to spread to this world as wel .

The search completed, Vincent and his brother restored their clothing and then set off for their destination, accompanied by the Facilitator.

“I hope you enjoyed yourself back there,” Julius said when they were out of earshot.

Vincent smiled. “The perks of our travels to this negotiation are few. Al ow me to enjoy those that come our way.”

They crossed a boundary, whereupon a second Facilitator joined them. The two elders met their palms, murmuring to one another in a cursory

greeting. Their trio hardly broke stride as the second continued on with them, and the first one departed.

Their new escort led them across a devastated landscape. A temporary cessation in fighting had been cal ed, and the sounds of weaponry fire

had ceased. Even in this city, the closest to Earth World, which was comparatively unharmed, there was evidence of widespread destruction.

“What’s al this?” Vincent waved a hand toward the building that lay ahead gleaming in the darkness, high on a bluff. Though modest in size, it was

constructed of fine marble that had been detailed with high-relief sculptures of flora and fauna native to Else World. High turrets lit with torches bracketed

each of its four corners, and two armed guards were posted in each.

Skipping with every third step to keep pace with their longer strides, the Facilitator spoke haltingly in broken Italian as they approached it. “It was

built specifical y for this new round of meetings. In honor of the treaty negotiations.”

Vincent shook his head, amazed at the expense that had been gone to. “A tent would’ve done as wel .”

Without thinking, he’d spoken in the Facilitator’s first language rather than in his own native Italian. The man brightened at his use of the dialect

that was more familiar to him, and he lapsed into it as wel . “No, no, a more fortresslike environment was necessary.” His voice lowered, hushed with

unease. “Demons have been sighted.”

Vincent’s brows rose, and he shot Julius a confounded look.

“What is he saying?” Julius inquired, juggling papers as he sought to keep up.

Vincent translated briefly. A natural linguist, he was fluent in two dozen Earth World and Else World languages and could read several more,

though he’d devoted little time to their study. “Did you know about these rumors?”

Julius shrugged. “A recurring theme. I assume they’re simply based on fear and not to be considered seriously. We al know the demons’ reign of

terror ended over a decade ago when Dominic made his home in Earth World.”

The Facilitator obviously understood enough of that, for he rushed in. “Except for the hours of black surrounding Moonful, when the demonhand

returns to us. Then the demons stir. And now some say they begin to come to them again in their nightmares.”

“Gods! We don’t need this,” said Vincent. “If the factions have been stirred up by this talk, they’l be in no mood for agreement.”

“Let’s hope they’ve al been searched for weaponry as thoroughly as we were,” said Julius.

Catching the gist of his statement, the Facilitator rushed on. “Let me endeavor to reassure and pledge unto you that al desirable and necessary

safeguards are in place, including surveil ance, barricades, and guards with armaments. I trust you’l be pleased at our unrelenting efforts of perpetual

security and wil —”

Vincent interrupted his assurances when they showed no sign of abating, putting a hand to the Facilitator’s chest to halt him as they neared the

meeting premises. “My brother and I need time to speak privately before we enter the meeting chamber. As we are running late, we’l bid you farewel

here. We thank you for your efforts on behalf of the negotiations.” He took the Facilitator’s pale hand in his, giving him a gleaming smile and offering the

traditional phrase that served as both greeting and leave-taking. “As the moon reflects the sun.”

“As the moon reflects the sun,” the Facilitator echoed, obviously disappointed that he would not be admitted to the meeting itself, for al wished for

a glimpse of the room where the negotiations were to be held. Julius added his own cursory salutation and a half bow before moving on in Vincent’s

wake.

The swel of voices raised in conflict reached the two brothers before they had even crossed the threshold.

“Tantrums already?” muttered Vincent.

“I told you it wouldn’t do to be late,” said Julius as they ducked into the elaborate structure.

“Cease your worry. I assembled the primary points I wish to make here weeks ago, as wel as my supporting arguments,” Vincent returned. “Al

that remains is to present them and see what unfolds as a result.”

“And regarding this new question of the demons?”

“The only thing that everyone in this world fears and despises with equal fervor are demons. Therefore, if the matter arises, we wil turn it to our

benefit and use it as a unifying factor.”

And then there was no more time for discussion, for they were admitted to the conference room. Inside sat an assemblage of six men, two

women, and one androgyne, al of whom were more bestial than human. Nine adversarial factions, al coming together for the first time since King Feydon

had departed their world leaving behind mischief and mayhem, but no successor.

Though the glass table at which they were gathered was round, it had taken some doing to find an arrangement of seating that kept dire enemies

apart.

One chair remained empty. Vincent’s. Julius would be seated several feet behind him on a low dais, joining other occupants of the room who

would not participate directly in the talks. Each delegate had brought a food taster and an entourage of personal guards and servants. The sound was

overwhelming as voices clamored to be heard.

Taking his place, Vincent stood, gazing out over the room.

There had been other meetings like this one between smal er groups of dignitaries over previous years, and much had been resolved. Now there

remained only a few, last, difficult points of contention.

Over the coming days, he would make his arguments, soothe tempers, and persuade others to see reason. His reason. Bringing varied

personalities and egos to a meeting of the minds was an art in which he not only excel ed—it was one in which he reveled.

The burden was heavy, the consequences of failure dire. Yet he was exhilarated. In his element. A determination rose in him to make this work. By

the end of the month, he hoped to have a signed treaty.

He raised a hand, commanding and receiving quiet.

“Delegates, these negotiations are official y open.”

The Feroce leader immediately leaped to his feet, slamming a fat fist on the table. “I wish to put forward a proposal that the gate between our

worlds be forever sealed.”

Matters proceeded downhil from there.

6

Earth World

D
arkness had falen by the time Vincent arrived on his brother’s front step. Only the ethereal creatures who acted as night servants were left on the

estate, for al Human servants had been banished to their quarters outside the grounds at dusk.

As he entered the house, the subtle, delicious smel s of dinner assailed him, along with his brother and his closest friend.

“Thank the Gods you’ve final y returned,” said Marco, looking unusual y frazzled.

“Here,” Vincent said, presenting him with a tacky bit of precious jewelry and Landon with a bouquet of bizarre, long-stemmed blossoms. “Gifts

from our Else World relations.”

With doubtful expressions, the two men eyed what he’d given them and the bounty of other presents that overflowed his arms.

“Did al go wel ?” asked Landon.

“No,” Vincent informed him baldly, leading them into the nearest salon where he dumped the rest of his armload upon the first chaise he

encountered. “As the meeting opened, the Feroce delegate brought forth a motion to seal the gate between our worlds.”

“Gods! Why?” asked Anthony, overhearing as he joined them.

“To prevent Dominic from crossing over to stir the demons.” Vincent randomly chose a foot-high, ribald statue of Bacchus and two nymphs, which

he handed to Anthony. “For you.”

Anthony rol ed his eyes and set it aside.

“But he and Rosetta wil die without periodic visits to Else-World,” said Marco.

Landon frowned, slapping his bouquet against his thigh so pol en dusted the leather of his trousers. “Don’t the Feroce realize another demonhand

wil simply rise up on their side of the gate when that happens? That things wil return as they were before, with demons running rampant every night

instead of just one?”

“And what of the vines…? Our families? Neither wil survive a sealing off of the conduit between our worlds,” added Marco.

“Exactly. I’ve calmed the waters for now. But the seeds of suspicion toward us have been careful y and wel planted by someone. In fact, we are

accused of having a vested interest in keeping the demons alive.”

“What would we have to gain by that?” asked Anthony.

Vincent shrugged. “Ask the Feroce. Other than that, it was the usual day of tantrums, chaos, and sporadic moments of forward momentum

countered with intermittent instances of the opposite. And here?” he asked, glancing around in an effort to determine the Shimmerskin’s whereabouts.

“I would describe matters here in much the same way,” said Marco.

“Where is she?” Vincent asked, and al knew whom he meant.

Marco went to the door of the salon and bel owed. “Cara!”

“Cara?” Vincent parroted.

“Your protégée’s name. She has intimated that you bestowed it upon her yourself.”

In spite of the day’s rigors, a chuckle escaped Vincent. “I suppose I should deem myself fortunate she chose that endearment from among those

less salient I might’ve cal ed her in the throes of—”

“Why are you shouting, Marco?” Mil icent inquired, entering the room. Noting his presence, Marco’s wife smiled and came closer to accept the

brush of his lips on her cheek. “Welcome, Vincent! Where’s Julius? We so rarely see him these days.”

“Mil icent! You’ve returned sooner than expected I see.” Vincent shot Marco an apologetic glance, knowing he wouldn’t have relished explaining

the Shimmerskin to his wife.

“Yes, and we’ve both been enjoying our unexpected house-guest,” Marco said, his expression indicating that the exact opposite was true.

“She’s been no trouble,” Mil icent politely assured him, “for once she discovered the library, she hasn’t left it.”

“It seems she can read,” Landon informed him.

“Interesting,” said Vincent.

“Julius isn’t with you?” Mil icent inquired again.

“Our brother sends his apologies. The meetings are to re-convene two days from now, and he has remained behind to do some covert

investigation before I return.”

“He is away so much I begin to suspect he harbors a fondness for someone in that world,” Mil icent mused.

“Real y?” Anthony’s interest sharpened.

“Don’t tease him about it,” Mil icent scolded. “You should be pleased if a female has recognized your brother’s many fine qualities and he

reciprocates her affection. And, Vincent, I’m glad you’ve come. I’l set another place.”

“But—” Vincent began.

“Cara!” Marco cal ed again, stepping on his demur as Mil icent departed. This time, the Shimmerskin appeared almost before her name died

away, joining them from the direction of Marco’s study rather than the library.

“Vincent!” she shouted with delight when she saw him. She went straight to him, sliding her arms around his neck and drawing his face down for

her kiss. Pleasure at the sight and feel of her swept him, and his arms automatical y enfolded her in return.

The yield of her soft body against his harder one felt so right. A sweet joy fil ed him. She was stil here. Stil aware. Stil his. Yet something about her

was different. Cupping her jaw, he brushed his thumb over her cheekbone eliciting only a faint shimmer. Over the past ten hours, her skin’s iridescence

had significantly diminished. She was becoming more Human.

He glanced at Landon over her head. He’d been watching them, and the same realization was in his eyes.

“What were you doing in my study?” demanded Marco, breaking up their embrace.

“In my study,” she echoed, pul ing away.

“She only does that to annoy me,” Marco fumed. “I’ve discovered she can speak wel enough when she so chooses.”

Suddenly Cara’s expression lit with awe as she spied the pile of gifts on the chair. Sinking to her knees before the colorful abundance, she began