Midnight's Daughter(107)

I poured a tiny amount of the contraband stuff into my coffee mug. Luckily, I had about a five-year supply in the basement, courtesy of Claire’s uncle—God bless him. I drank a salute to Pip and resumed reading.

The Senate had been convinced to employ such a disreputable type as myself because of two recommendations. Mircea had somehow persuaded them that our recent adventures, and the fact that I am currently babysitting a Duergar, qualify me as a Dark Fey expert. The second came from Caedmon, although perhaps recommendation isn’t quite the right word. It seems that he’d flatly refused to deal with anyone else. That had me narrowing my eyes and wondering what the crafty old bastard was up to. I had a feeling I was going to find out.

The other piece of mail was a brown-paper-wrapped package sealed with the family crest—in bloodred wax, of course. I smiled as I slit it open, and smiled more when I saw the contents. Radu had thoughtfully sent me a little gift along with his letter, which consisted of two paragraphs explaining about the task force, and eight more bitching about the facilities/people/pressure with which he was forced to work. He was back at MAGIC while his place was undergoing massive renovations. I winced at the thought of what he’d build on what was now virtually a blank slate. It boggled the mind. I couldn’t wait to see it.

He also wrote that Mircea was twisting arms trying to get Louis-Cesare back, at least for the duration of the war. He’d gone off chasing some rumor about Christine, much to Mircea’s annoyance. He wants him for the task force, which, as it was his idea, Mircea is expected to staff. He told Radu that it’s been tough going—most people don’t want to deal with the Fey. The Senate was desperate enough to employ a dhampir; what was next, trolls? I grinned and made a mental note to introduce him to my new secretary as soon as possible.

No explanation was given for the enclosed item, but then, I didn’t really need one. Radu had sent me a box of butterscotch candy. My favorite flavor. I stood there for a moment, thinking of schemes and plans, oaths and family. But mostly about a pair of blue, blue eyes.

I hadn’t been surprised to find out when I woke up at Radu’s that Louis-Cesare had done a disappearing act. I might have been hurt, if I hadn’t had his memories. If I hadn’t known to expect it. Somewhere along the line, he got tired of people lying to him, betraying him and leaving him. So he pulled the classic response. He became the one who left.

I should have been furious that someone who could be accepted chose not to be, that he shied away from the closeness I was denied merely to avoid the possibility of hurt. But I had those damn memories, and they weren’t fading with time. If anything, they seemed to be settling in for good, revealing stray glimpses into another life, another world, when I least expected it. And understanding another person, I was discovering, makes judging him a lot harder to do.

I finished my wine-laced coffee, then put through a call to Daddy. The vamp answering the magical mirror hissed at me, showing a lot more fang than he probably would have if I’d been there in person. I smiled back, which made him twitch. Finally, I got my request across and Mircea came into view. I told him that, with certain guarantees, I really thought I could make the time.