Remnants of Night

The following morning—after the most unpleasant of sleepovers—I sent Eleanor off with my credit card to purchase some clothing. Wasn’t plastic a beautiful thing? I decided that while suit-and-tie was appropriate, the men-folk needed a base set just in case the unforeseen happened. Devi, after all, was wearing close to nothing under that glamour. I wasn’t quite sure about the ethical standing of allowing Eleanor to participate in this but she seemed all too happy to pitch in. Letting her pick out a nice dress on my dime assuaged any guilt I might have harbored.

My dreams had been strange, which lead me to pace out of my bedroom and into the living room after Eleanor left. Cenav was too much the warrior to lay down or cover himself in the blanket I left out so he remained at his ‘post’ leaning up against the wall where he could see all the doors. Devi looked comfortable enough on the couch, one arm crooked over his eyes with limbs askew. I doubted he was still asleep but he wasn’t about to let a Pelthocian see his real face. Ian had claimed the second bedroom however looked to have not even used it. The man was pacing in my kitchen with a book in hand.

I yawned and shuffled back in to my room to use the master bathroom, pleased to see a war hadn’t broken out overnight. Teeth brushed and hair fixed but still in my silk PJs, I wandered back in to the living room to find nothing changed. “Did you even sleep?” I groused to the pacing mage.

“The raw energy here is keeping me awake. It’s much the more compelling than in Lehiras,” The mage replied without stopping reading. “This Arthur… truly fascinating. He must have lived a full rich life.”

“Hey, Bookworm, are you paying attention?” I asked, resisting the urge to snap my fingers in his face. His strange eyes were pouring through the book at an inhuman rate. But then, he wasn’t human was he. “Arthur? As in King Arthur? Wait, you can read English?”

“Indeed. And I was paying attention. I can do both.”

“No, you can’t. How many of my books did you read last night?”

“All of them. This was the last.”

“That’s impossible.”

“I can recite them to you, if you wish.” He turned the last page and shut the book. “One of the benefits of being a mage is being able to retain everything I read.”

Another one was baseless arrogance. Okay maybe not exactly baseless, I had to admit to myself. Being able to recall everything you read could be a very handy skill to have. “You learned English by reading it? How is that even possible?”

“I found your talking… portal… and after a few hours felt confident enough to move on to your book collection.” Ian gave me a sly look. “Some of the subject matter of those books would make a goblin flamebreather blush.”

I blinked, then felt my cheeks flush with color when I remembered what books he was speaking of. So I liked a few naughty romance books—sue me. Wisely, I didn’t comment on that; instead I asked, “Talking portal? Oh, the TV. Should I be about over your choice of channels? You start cursing and throwing chairs, I’m gonna wash your mouth out with soap.”

Ian looked to the side momentarily, as if processing phrases he didn’t know, then looked back at me with one of the most rakish smiles I’d ever seen. And it looked good on him. Real good. I fought the overwhelming desire to twirl my hair around a finger by clasping my hands in front of me. His smile broadened and I felt a mental tap on my forehead. My emotions were leaking.

I turned away in a huff, quietly rectifying the situation though I had no doubt the infuriating mage could feel everything. Checking in on the other two, I found Devi perched at his new station in the kitchen. He tried to hide the unfriendly look he was casting Ian’s way that had sharpened his features but I’d seen it. Glancing over at Cen, I saw my boy drawing conclusions I didn’t care for off of the Harbinger. Cenav didn’t bother to mask it. Human or Sarkkrai, the expression wasn’t pleased.

Well they could continue with their unfounded thoughts—I couldn’t strike the appropriate pose while wearing silk PJs now, could I? Back in my bedroom, I took my time picking out the days outfit opting for black leggings and a long fluffy gray sweater. I knew I was being petty by leaving enemies alone without a referee just because one of them was an insufferable jackass. Maybe Armageddon would start in my living room while I was choosing socks?

“No… such… luck,” I growled to myself and slammed the drawer shut.

I heard the front door and the atypical stumble on the threshold that signaled my housesitter had returned. I mean, Eleanor. Flouncing onto the bed, I shoved my feet into the socks then sat there wiggling my toes. Huh, shouldn’t I be out there? Hm. Oh shit, Eleanor! Darting out the door, I found her ladened with umpteen million bags and inching toward the couch. None of the three chivalrous upstanding men in the room moved to assist her, opting instead to make her even more nervous with their staring. Wobbling, Eleanor managed to dump the bags on the couch with a hwuph.

“Jeez, Eleanor, you buy out the whole store?”

“I-I’m sorry, Z! I wasn’t sure what to buy a-and you wanted—”

“I was kidding.” I smiled—genuinely, I might add.

The girl smiled brightly in return. “Oh! And I brought food too. I wasn’t sure what everyone would like so…” She scurried to the door and was back a moment later with two heavy plastic sacks with La Bonne Etoile Patisserie on the outside hanging from her wrists, double-stacked coffee carriers. “M-my treat.”

“You are an absolute doll.” Rushing around the obstacles of furniture and assassins, I helped relieve her of the carriers and delivered the precious cargo to the island’s top. Snatching up a cup and taking a bit sip, I felt much more stable. Ianarius came around the opposite side of the island; wordlessly, I sat a cup in front of him, in front of Devi, who appeared at my shoulder and then handed the second-to-last to Cen.

That sweet girl had purchased many of the small breakfast sandwiches La Bonne Etoile was known for and some of their filled croissants. Devi’s new-found chocolate-seeking sense had him reaching dangerously for one of the croissants before Cen had finished piling up sandwiches in his giant hands. He growled and the Harbinger sat back on his chair with a look of chagrin, still eyeing the croissant with longing. Ian was too engrossed in his coffee to have gotten involved with the food partaking hierarchy. I almost wished he hadn’t been.

Looking pale as the Sarkkrai-turned-human stalked back to his designated watch spot, Eleanor tucked a ringlet behind an ear then chugged her coffee like it there was something in it other than what was written on the outside of the cup. Devi waited no longer to snag the croissant and purred in pleasure after the first bite.

“I, uh…” Eleanor said, huddled around her coffee cup. “I hope the clothing fits but I’m not sure I have the sizes right. There wasn’t much, um, in… uh, larger sizes that would fit… that would fit…” She spoke haltingly as if speaking about a Sarkkrai when the Sarkkrai is not nearby was a bad thing. Heh, she catches on real quick.

“Don’t worry about it. They’re just bases for the spellwork anyways,” I replied.

“Bases?” Her eyes flitting past me momentarily to Devi. The assassin was licking his fingers.

“Frames to adhere the spell to,” I told her with a wave of my spare hand. Damn, that patisserie made good croissants. “The sizes won’t matter too much or at least not to me. Not like I’m going to be dealing with it.”

That finally pulled the attention of Ianarius from his dissection of the flavors infused in his coffee. Little doubt the man now could place every single nuance of each sip. So there is a benefit to knowing a mage—disguises and regalia could be produced in a matter of moments (added bonus of costing another person’s energy, not your own). Unfortunately there is a dearth of such beings in this world so good luck finding one.

The mage reached for a cinnamon croissant, brows crinkling as his mind churned over the words he didn’t understand in our conversation. “You are… discussing the procurements brought by Eleanor?”

“Procurements? You learned that off the TV?” I said with a laugh.

“I’m sorry. Was I meant to say skin-tight leather and thigh-high boots?”

“Perhaps for you,” I returned. I still could not believe he read all of my books—even those books. For a moment, we two regarded each other over the island in challenge.

“Your English is amazing! You really didn’t know any before? You learned overnight?” Eleanor’s eyes sparkled as if she was looking at a certified genius. Certified something, alright.

“Well, yes. English, as you call it, is not a common language in Lehiras. I may teach it to my students to challenge their abilities to absorb new information. It’s a good simple exercise.”

“Students? You are a teacher? A professor?”

He cocked his head at the rapid fire questions. “A teacher, yes.”

“Don’t be so modest. Eleanor, you are in the presence of Osiril’s Master Mage. Ianarius Nalach of Pelthocia, the King’s right-hand man.” I sipped my coffee. To my surprise, a tinge of color pinked Ian’s cheeks under Eleanor’s fawning coo of delight. Any minute now, she was going to ask him to pull a rabbit out of a hat. “Scourge of the Sarkkrai, prodigy and… a man with an eye for fashion.”

With much prima donna pouting, Ian eventually relented in order to make my job easier. I mean really, I was trying to do good here. I left the magical hemming of their new duds to the mage because, well… ew… and he didn’t seem to be put off too much at being our seamstress. I took the opportunity to scrutinize the card Invyrchal had given me, having not done so earlier out of spite. Printed on expensive thick stock, the card was plain woven white till you shifted it just so and the reflective fabrics shined like garrote wires. Hm, is it bad that that’s the first place I went with that? Printed in sharp black ink was the name Sho Hashida, the H capitalized and in a larger more fancy print. Sho Hashida, huh? Whomever that was or whatever company that was, I assumed there was a lot of money involved. At the bottom right was a simple address and phone number.

“What is this?” Cen asked from over my shoulder. I spun on the chair, leaning back against the island.

“This,” I replied. “is where we are going tomorrow.” I handed the card to our official driver.

“Oh Z, I don’t know where that is. I have never heard of it!” Eleanor exclaimed.

“That’s okay. We’ll just Google it.”

“Google?” Ian chimed in, hands on his hips while eyeing the array of clothing spread out upon the couch.

Oh time for some fun! “Yes. Google is a mystic, an oracle of sorts. Knows everything you could want to know on every subject imaginable.”

“Such a being exists in this world?” He asked, incredulous.

“Indeed. And Google is at my beck and call.”

“That is amazing,” Ian said, realigning a shirt. He spread his hands and I could feel his magic follow the motion into the fabric. “Nearly as amazing as your capacity to gloat.”

If sticking out your tongue became an emotion, I believe I found it. He gave me a simpering look and went back to his work. Foul creature would still be impressed. Before I could further instill upon him the differences between Lehiras’ scrolls and manuscripts and Earth’s lovely Internet, he spoke up again.

“So what is our… ah, route of… occurrence.”

“Plan of attack?” I switched back to the Sarkkrai tongue.

“Our strategy to lessen the potential for incident,” the mage replied in Pelthocian. He flicked a glance to me, somehow managing to encompass all in the room when those strange eyes rolled back to task at hand.

“Find the one who dares to threaten my mistress and forcibly remove his spine through his throat,” Devi chimed in pleasantly. “The same for any who gets in our way.”

All eyes moved in slow motion to the Harbinger, accompanied by the rough chuckle of my son. Eleanor, who was—thankfully—left out of the most of the conversation due to the language barrier, moved her big blue eyes from one to the other and back. Devi smiled and took a swig of coffee. I couldn’t be mad; that was actually a pretty good plan. Wait, no. Bad plan! Death and carnage would simply not be the way we did this.

“Our goal is to find out what Invyrchal wants and how to nullify him—not kill everyone. He has Sarkkrai in his employ and I want to minimize any casualties amongst Ve’sa—I mean amongst anyone—Sarkkrai or human.” Suddenly, my nails were just amazing. I examined them and thought of the possibility of getting them painted in the colors of my scales. I did not want to look at that smug mage’s smug little face after nearly saying… saying… that maybe I still valued Ve’Sath’s opinion. The Warlord wouldn’t be pleased if we went on a Sarkkrai-killing rampage; they were still my allies, of sorts, weren’t they?

Then there was the well-known fact that death and carnage would attract attention that I spent the last ten years avoiding. The people of Earth may be able to come to grips with other worlds, races that were not human, but I was not going to be the one to do the introductions. That was definitely not on my To-Do list. No, we would stay out of the limelight. Now if only I could be assured that Invyrchal would do the same…

Ian was conspicuously silent but when he spoke up next, it was surprisingly not about my little slip-up. “Perhaps your ‘oracle’ can provide what we need to know?”

“I’ll get the laptop!” Eleanor volunteered in a chipper tone, happy it seemed that the conversation went back to English. I sipped my coffee while the little woman scurried to the bedroom, somehow knowing precisely where the thing was. I wasn’t even sure I knew where it was at that given moment. Blond ringlets bouncing, she whirl winded back into the room like a woman on a mission. Upon realizing the couch was full of clothes, the island full of empty food containers, her take-charge attitude stalled out and my house-sitter paced in a half-circle with a laptop held in her outstretched hands.

I took the last swig of coffee, amused to see the mage’s eyes brighten upon seeing the gadget in Eleanor’s hands. His weaving snapped and with a curse, he bent to undue the mess he made out of a sharp black pinstripe suit jacket. Trash removed, the laptop took its place on the island and was opened. Eleanor scooted forward on a barstool and hit the power button. The sound of the start-up drew in Devi and even Cen came forward in curiosity.

The laptop was great for the mundane aspects of life here in this world—paying bills, finding information—but I had never taken much time to learn more. Eleanor, I was happy to see, was well versed in its uses. I placed Invyrchal’s card on the countertop and in nary a second, the college-hopeful was off and running.

“And so the oracle speaks…” I commented as Eleanor pulled up the first search results. Osiril’s Master Mage could resist no longer. In a blink, he was standing at her side, peering over her shoulder in amazement. He was probably even salivating.

“Sho Hashida, entrepreneur and philanthropist, son of Japanese billionaire Hideo Hashida…” Eleanor read, “Founder and CEO of Hashida Securities, Inc, one of the world’s largest and most sought-after security companies, providing all facets of service to the upper echelon of today’s society. Hm, oh! Here is a link to the company.” She clicked and we were immediately provided with a picture of a large multi-floor office building, its windows shined with life against a pleasant nighttime backdrop lit with stars any Rutherfordian would know you couldn’t see no matter how clear the sky was. “I... I don’t know much of what is going on here but this doesn’t exactly seem like the type of hideout a supervillain would take up, Z.”

“No, it doesn’t at all,” I said with a frown. “A security company? What is Invyrchal playing at here?”

“Look! It says here there is going to be a gala event to mark the company’s 15th year in business—that’s tomorrow!” She drew circles around the announcement on the screen with the finger pointer.

“And that’s where I am going to get my answers and end this,” I said with straight-backed conviction.

My moment was dulled by the sound of fluttering plastic bags and cloth. We turned to see a buck-naked Harbinger rifling through the items Eleanor picked up but that didn’t need “adjustments”. Eleanor gasped in the girliest way possible, turning back around just as quick. I, however, admired the view; Devi did have quite the cute butt. He had a bag of what looked to be generic boxers—ah, the modern day world—in his hand and made to follow suit the image on the outside. And there went my pleasant view.

Like any normal red-blooded girl, Eleanor tried to sneak a peek and there was no missing the disappointment in her expression. Devi tossed aside a pair of large Cenav-size dark jeans, a few shirts, until he found a pair of distressed jeans with holes in the knees. He slipped these on and, knowing full well he had a captive audience, took his time zipping up the fly then ran his hands over the lovely plains and valleys of his abs.

But this was my Harbinger—once a captive, deprived, learning where he stood now—so when he looked up, his boy-next-door eyes sparkling with mischief, he couldn’t resist a sweet smile. When he was sure to have her attention, he went in for the kill; Devi’s perfect whites ended in a whole lot of points. Of course Eleanor had the reaction we’ve all gotten used to but her explosion of words wasn’t what I expected. “V-v-vampire!! You’re a vampire!”

I extricated my face from my palm to see her pointing at Devi. The Harbinger had lost his frightening grin. She was on her feet and on the other side of the island (and Ian, who had taken over the laptop at some moment), crossing her fingers. He’d taken an involuntary step toward her when she panicked—the chemical change and flight combined with an unknown term had the predator in him stepping forward. The assassin in him told him to silence the unknown. He stilled immediately when I held out a hand toward him. “Eleanor, Devi is not a vampire.”

“His teeth are pointed! Vampires have pointed teeth! And they drink blood!”

“Yes… well… that’s true, I guess,” I replied, not really wanting to go into the fact that Devi did in fact drink blood, but it was not for sustenance.

“But you were outside! In the sun! Vampires can’t be outside in the sun.”

“I just told you he’s not…” I sighed. “None of us are human, Eleanor. If you can accept Ian as a Pelthocian, Cenav as a Sarkkrai and me as… me.” I gave a small shrug. “Then it’s not really so unbelievable that Devi isn’t human either, despite appearances.”

“Oh. Okay.” She squirmed in place, hands gripping the island top. “He… he’s not going to bite me though right?”

“No, he’s not going to bite you.” I looked at Devi. Repressing his Harbinger side in order to infiltrate the Pelthocian populace had put a strain on my little assassin; he seemed to be enjoying what he really was. Causing reactions, tasting the changes in the air, delighting in the upset—I hoped this wouldn’t be how he’d act outside our little group.

Silence reigned for a bit as Devi paced around my house like a trapped dog, Eleanor eyeing him the entire time. Ian was still fully invested in my laptop. He’d probably know more about it than I before nightfall. I fidgeted in my seat, wondering if I was being a bad hostess and if I truly cared about being a good one. Our game plan was set for tomorrow and that left… one heckuva long day to contend with. Conversation! I should probably try that.

When I opened my mouth it wasn’t the cheesy ‘what a day this has been, right’ that filled the room, it was a nasty grating sound of stone on metal. We all looked at its source, even Ian craned his head around. Cenav had removed his amulet and sat where earlier my swirling vortex of a portal had been. He was running a whet stone along the edge of his blade with a look of consternation. He rolled his shoulders a couple times, either out of pleasure at no longer being shackled with a weak human set or from residual pain after his confrontation with Ian and Devi.

Now I know what you’re thinking—Cen is Sarkkrai right? Why’s he being all nice and cooperative? Not biting off the heads of lesser creatures and threatening everyone else right? Isn’t that something Sarkkrai are predisposed for? He is not even at all upset over the devastating loss! Oh, but trust me he is. He is just trained to not show it. And as far as the docile act, it is only fooling one of us—Eleanor. The part of him that is me is smart, time-biding, patient; it’s the Sarkkrai in him that is fuming. And it’s the Sarkkrai part that merits the name destroyer.

“Your son has been rising alarmingly fast amongst the ranks of Rakmorath as well as drawing the eye of and becoming quite the disconcerting thorn for the Alliance.”

“How do you know it is him?”

Ian favored me with a look. “He is hard to miss. And his troops are fiercely loyal. They follow him like a pack of hounds at his heels. He doesn’t even need to speak; they are like an extension of his own body.

“There is something vastly unsettling about his leadership. Typically Sarkkrai warbands are loud; they are all about frightening and demoralizing before an attack. Your son moves in silence and I don’t think he even told them to do so. They are just doing what he does and it’s devastating…”

“Ve’Sath allows such? An individualist approach to leadership isn’t exactly something he likes to foster.”

“You probably know better than I,” the mage said, pausing his click-click-clicking. “If Pelthocia continues to lose ground, King Burend will be forced to act. The Trine will focus on him. Cenav is smart but elusiveness evades soldiers, not Zarhsha magic.”

“What about Pelthocian magic?” I asked, watching the rhythmic motion of Cen’s hands as he continued honing his blade’s edge.

Ianarius paused once again and it was a moment before he replied. “I am my King’s weapon. In all matters.”

I met his gaze. “And Cenav is the Warlord’s.”

“So Cenav is some kind of warrior or something? Like, a General in an army?” Eleanor asked, then nearly choked on her coffee. “Wait, he’s your son?!”