Stone Angel (7 page)

The two studied each other until Martha said,
drily, “Don’t worry. If we wanted to poison you, we would not have
served everything on a Lazy Susan.”

“Right.” As McKenna came forward to
grudgingly pour Liam a glass of Pinot Grigio, Liam heaped olives
and almonds onto his plate.

Irving leaned back in his chair, lacing his
fingers together. “Mr. Gallagher, I hear you are concerned that
Miss Reed’s offer of money will not be fulfilled.”

Liam had obviously been taught manners at
some point in his life because he had the courtesy to look
chagrined. “No, sir. Not that it won’t be fulfilled. Simply that it
does not exist.” He cleared his throat. “I have never heard that
you were as wealthy as the amount would lead me to believe.”

Irving looked at Liam almost slyly. “My dear
boy, not all of us have to use our funds to build enormous
skyscrapers to show off for the devil. Some of us prefer to spend
our money on good food and great wine.”

Acknowledging Irving’s dig at Osgood and his
monstrous building that stretched toward the sky, Liam agreed, “I’m
sure that approach brings better company.”

“Like us,” Samuel said.

“No, not you,” Jacqueline said. “But the rest
of us.”

The two grinned affably at each other.

Obviously, the Chosen Ones were listening
every word that passed back and forth at the head of the table.

Amanda the tried to focus on the plate of hot
potato croquettes Martha had added to the Lazy Susan, but these two
men who were discussing, in many ways, her and her sister’s
future.

Irving nodded almost imperceptibly to
McKenna, who came forward holding a slim leather briefcase. He
elegantly placed it on the table in front of Irving.

Reaching towards the latches with
tremor-ridden hands, Irving tried to open the case.

Liam glanced at Amanda, and she could see
that he had not expected the famous Irving Shea to be so weak.

Amanda brushed her hands on her cream linen
napkin, preparing to push back her chair and help Irving with this
fine motor skill, one of the types they had been working hard on
during his daily rehab.

But Liam beat her to it, leaning forward and
flipping the latches open with one hand, covering Irving’s cold,
shaky hand with the other.

“Thank you, my boy,” Irving said
approvingly.

Amanda knew Irving well enough to know he had
just given Liam a test, one the younger man had passed.

Liam nodded and looked at Amanda.

She
realized she wore a slight, fond smile, and hastily wiped it away.
No point in letting Liam think she was fond of
him
.

Liam
turned back to the briefcase. He opened it. He stared at the stacks
of twenties and fifties and hundreds.
Wow
. Although his lips moved, no sound came out. He stared
some more.

Irving broke through his reverie. “So, are
you convinced I can provide you with a payday that will make your
efforts worthwhile?”

Liam picked up his fork. Carefully he cut a
marinated mushroom filled with whipped feta and took a bite.

Amanda clasped her hands in her lap so hard
that her knuckles turned white. The tension made her feel ill, but
she whispered enticingly, “Can you smell the lavender in the
fields? Can you hear the wind in the grapes? See the rolling hills
of Tuscany from the desk of your villa?”

Liam glanced at her, then concentrated on his
plate.

Irving weighed in, but not with enticement.
With a truth that made Amanda shrivel in despair. He said, “Mr.
Gallagher, we, of all people, realize that the decision you’re
making is difficult. We have dealt with your boss for years, and
Osgood has won many battles against us. He has found abandoned
children before we could get to them. He has turned the site of the
Gypsy Travel Agency’s headquarters into a monstrosity, a building
filled with awful weapons and innocent people who have no idea
they’re in danger. In this small but vitally important battle, we
ask for your help. For your expertise.”

Liam stopped eating. He watched Irving
intently, clearly assessing his current situation and the outcome
of his decision. It was like the choose-your-own-adventure books,
except now her life and Sophia’s life — and his life — in
balance.

“I know what you have been through, Mr.
Gallagher.” Irving folded his hands in front of his Meissen plate.
“I know how you were treated at that orphanage and how the Others
offered you a way out – a home and a job.”

Amanda stared at Irving in confusion. Liam
had never shared this part of his personal history with her. When
they were dating, he had merely said his parents had passed away.
How did Irving know?

Irving closed the briefcase, pulling Liam’s
gaze from its contents. “Only with your help can Miss Reed hope to
infiltrate the Sculptor’s studio. Only with your protection will I
send her there to retrieve her sister. So it’s time to choose.
Loyalty or money.”

“Not loyalty or money. Almost certain death …
or money,” Liam said.

“If it wasn’t dangerous, I wouldn’t pay you.”
Irving pulled himself up in his chair and looked at Liam intently,
his dark eyes snapping. “So, I ask again. Will you change into my
form and get her inside the studio? Will you help her?”

The Chosen gave up all pretense of casual
interest. The room was silent, waiting for Liam’s reply.

Amanda watched, as though in slow motion,
Liam nodded and said, “All right, what’s the plan?”

AMANDA
ALMOST —
almost
— jumped
up and hugged Liam, and kissed him, and hugged him
again.

Instead she sat on her hands and tried to
calm the wild beating of her heart.

This was what she had dreamed of, hoped for.
She was going to try to rescue Sophia.

No. No! She knew her “Star Wars.” She could
quote Yoda.

There is no try. Do … or do not
.

So …
she
would
going
to
rescue
Sophia. She
would
.

Martha brought out the second course, lemony
lentil soup and mixed greens covered in goat cheese and citrus
vinaigrette.

“At all times there are no less than three
Others outside the house, and Amanda is constantly trailed by two
when she leaves on Sundays.” Liam ate as he filled in the Chosen
Ones on the location and number of Others currently assigned to
Amanda and to the mansion itself.

“We’ve seen them,” John said laconically.
“Should we be worried about the constant surveillance? What are
their intentions?”

Amanda watched as Liam ladled more soup into
his bowl, sprinkling toasted pepitas generously on top. “I don’t
believe they care about you individually, per se. The idea, from
what I understand, is simply to keep track of your movements
outside the house.” He glanced up with a smirk. “They’ve had a hell
of a time figuring out what you all do when you’re inside the
mansion.”

“We drink,” Aaron said.

“We laugh,” Samuel said.

“We debauch,” Caleb said.

“We do research, too!” Rosamund looked
indignant.

Everyone stared at her.

“Oh. I see. It’s a joke.” She smiled feebly …
Rosamund had trouble comprehending humor.

“Velvet curtains have their advantages.”
Irving remarked drily.

“Grabbing you one at a time lacks the glory
most of the Others are searching for,” Liam said.

Amanda stiffened in her seat, fork poised
over her salad. Grabbing her and Sophia had seemed pretty glorious
for Eric and his Other cohorts.

Liam continued, “If you were to come out of
the house in a big group, I think you’d have a bigger issue.”

“Which is why I won’t have any of you helping
me with this rescue mission,” Amanda said.

John looked ready to jump in and contradict
her, but Irving held up his hand. “Amanda is right. We cannot let
our affection for her and our sympathy for her sister’s plight get
in the way of our higher calling. We must choose our battles.”

When the muttering had died down around the
table before he offered, Liam said, “Actually, I’ve heard a few of
the Others comment that they’re not sure how you all manage to show
up at locations across town without alerting the spies.”

“I guess we’re doing something right then,”
Samuel mused, thinking about the tunnels Martha had shown them that
they often used to get around the city to escape detection.

Martha emerged from the kitchen and loaded up
the Lazy Susan for the third course: paella. As the smell of
saffron and shellfish filled the room, Charisma made nummy
noises.

McKenna switched everyone’s wine glass to a
fresh, open-bowled Riedel filled with Sangiovese.

Amanda took a sip of the wine and let it
linger on her tongue, savoring a relatively stress-free moment. The
room seemed filled with camaraderie. She felt as if she were part
of the Chosen Ones, and as if Liam was a part, also. But one
thought brought her back to reality. “If there are so many Others
watching us, how will we get around them and into the Sculptor’s
house?”

Liam paused with a scallop halfway to his
mouth. “The short answer is — we don’t.”

Isabelle delicately wiped her mouth on her
napkin and cleared her throat. “I hate to cast aspersions on your
plan here, but doesn’t this portion of it contain a high
possibility of death?”

“Well put.” Genny turned to Amanda. “Won’t
the Others outside just kill you and” — she made the sign for air
quotes — “Irving … when you go outside?”

Amanda could feel her plan falling to pieces
and her composure with it. If they couldn’t work out the kinks in
her admittedly bare bones strategy, Sophia could be left at the
Sculptor’s house until she was killed — or was forced to become
like Liam, a heartless, money-grubbing Other.

Calm down, Amanda. Think. How can you escape being
instantly killed when you walk out of the door with
Irving
?

The proverbial light bulb came on. “You’re
right, Liam, we don’t avoid the Others outside. They won’t kill
Irving” — more air quotes — “because they need him for whatever
their nefarious purposes are…”

“…probably torture,” Liam said dubiously.

Amanda ignored him. “And they won’t kill me
because I have information on the Chosen Ones that is vital and I
will only give to the Sculptor himself!”

Liam raised a black eyebrow. “Really? What
might this vital knowledge be?”

The table fell silent as each tried to think
what Amanda could dangle in front of the Sculptor to keep her alive
long enough to get into his studio and rescue Sophia.

Rosamund piped up. “She could tell them that
we’ve fulfilled the prophecy by finding our mates, except for
Charisma.”

Every
head at the table turned to look at her. Her violet eyes grew wide
behind her tortoiseshell glasses. “I shouldn’t have said that,
should I? Not in front of
him
.”
She nodded at Liam. Turning to her husband, Aaron, she glared.
“
This
is why you should let me read
during meals!”

Isabelle turned to give Rosamund a big
hug.

Liam tried his best to hold in his chuckle.
He had not expected the Chosen Ones to be so kind and so…chummy.
The Others certainly weren’t like that. He’d never been friends
with any of them, and the closest he’d ever been to any physical
affection from the Others was when Johannes held him in place while
Eric beat the living crap out of him after Sophia and Amanda’s
capture.

Amanda
looked so alarmed about Rosamund’s comment that Liam jumped in to
smooth things over. “I have no idea what the prophecy is. Osgood
isn’t big on letting us lower minions in on the big plan.” Which
was true enough. “But I promise I won’t tell the Others that you’re
all coupled up. Though it would answer some of their queries about
what all of you
do
in here all
day.”

The Chosen Ones seemed to relax, laughing
softly.

“Amanda’s plan is not without merit. Not that
we should give anyone that particular tidbit but it is definitely
information the Others would want.” Turning toward Amanda, Irving
placed one cold hand atop the hand she had tightly clasped around
her fork, a piece of sausage still speared on the end. “Amanda, I
agree with your idea of pretending to have information. I feel I
should warn you that it is a dangerous game you’ll have to play. If
they capture you, they’ll torture you for any information about the
prophecy.”

Liam drew himself up in his chair. “I won’t
let that happen.”

Irving turned his dark eyes on Liam, piercing
him with a direct stare. “Mr. Gallagher, you are a brave man. But
you are only one man. Don’t pretend to be an army. Understand your
own limitations or this plan could go terribly wrong.”

“Yes, sir.” Liam slumped like a chastised
child. “But I will try my best to keep her safe.”

“I believe you, Mr. Gallagher. That’s the
most I can ask — and I wish you both the best of luck.”

With that Irving pushed himself slowly back
from the table.

McKenna grabbed the handles of his
wheelchair.

Irving turned to Martha. “Martha, dear, would
you be so kind as to send whatever scrumptious dessert you have
planned this evening up to my room?” He looked tired.

“Of course.” Martha’s voice was clipped, but
Amanda could sense her worry. Irving never left the table before
dessert.

Amanda started to rise from her seat, ready
to prepare Irving for bed. He waved her off. “Stay down here. Eat
dessert. Work out any kinks in the plan.” His smile was kind.
“Martha will show you to your room, Mr. Gallagher. And I will see
you both off in the morning.”