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on
to it.
"What has he been telling you about me, then?" Andrew said, leering at her.
"Not
the truth, I hope?"
"I've been telling her what an absolutely depraved rascal you are," Joey
said.
"A shameless pervert. A sexual deviant of the first rank."
"He's an awful liar, you know," Andrew said uneasily.
"Is he?" Terri said, her eyes staring deeply into his. "What a shame! I was
so
hoping it was all true. Most men one meets are so depressingly boring. So...
unimaginative. And Joey made you sound so very interesting. ..."
"Did he now?" Andrew gushed, practically drooling. "Well, perhaps we can
discuss
it further over a small drink, eh?" He winked at her.
"Oh, let's," she said, returning the wink and taking his arm, pressing
herself
up against him. Andrew was starting to hyperventilate.
"Sh-shouldn't we greet our host first?" he said, stammering.
"Nigel? Oh, why bother? He's bound to be about somewhere," she said. "I've
worked ever so hard to bring this party off, I should be entitled to enjoy
myself a little, don't you think? I'm sure Nigel will understand. You won't
mind
if I steal your friend for just a little while, will you, Joey, darling?
"Steal away, love," said Joey with a wink at Andrew. "Good luck, old boy.
It's
every man for himself, eh, what?"
Andrew grinned salaciously and gave him a thumbs-up as Terri led him away
toward
the bar. Behind him, the smile suddenly slipped from Joey Lymon's face, and
his
expression became cold and feral. He turned and went back out the door, down
the
steps, through the gate, and to his waiting car. He opened up the trunk and
took
out a black leather roll-up bag, then he slammed the trunk lid shut and got
into
the backseat. "The dark-tinted partition between him and the chauffer slid
down
soundlessly. The driver removed his chauffeur's cap and ran a graceful, pale
hand through his flaming red hair.
"Where to, Your Lordship?" he said, glancing up into the rearview mirror.
"Whitechapel," said Joey softly.
At first he thought it was anxiety. Perhaps it was simply stress from the
transatlantic flight, or jet lag, but the headache refused to go away. It
kept
on growing worse, and now it was a constant, dull, throbbing pain, almost a
burning sensation. They went up to their rooms he and Kira would share
Modred's
old suite, while Makepeace and Jacqueline each had their own rooms and the
first
tiling he did was toss his hat onto the bed and head for the bathroom to
throw
some cold water on his face. As he went through the bathroom door he brought
his
right hand up to rub his aching forehead and felt the runestone. It was hot.
He
glanced into the bathroom mirror and his eyes widened. The runestone was
giving
off a soft green glow.
"Kira?" he said, but at the same time she came in behind him, looking down at
her hand.
"Hey, warlock, did you notice if "
She stopped when she saw him. The sapphire runestone set into her palm was
giving off a soft blue glow.
"You, too, huh?" she said, staring at his forehead. "Does it hurt?"
"Sort of a burning ache," said Wyrdrune. "I thought it was just a headache
from
the flight over."
"Yeah, mine aches like hell too," she said, holding her wrist and flexing her
fingers. She bit her lower lip nervously. "What do you think it means?"
He shook his head. "I haven't the faintest idea. Where are the others?"
'The fairy was making noises about having dinner," she said. "Jacqueline only
seemed interested in drinking it."
"You don't like her."
Kira shrugged.
"Why?"
"I don't know. Rubs me the wrong way, I guess."
"Couldn't have anything to do with Modred, could it?"
She glanced at him sharply. "What makes you say a thing like that?"
Wyrdrune paused before replying. "She gets a special son of look when she
talks
about him," he said.
"Does she? I hadn't noticed."
"Bull. She's in love with him. You can hear it in her voice. It bothers you,
doesn't it?"
Kira shrugged again. "Why should it bother me?"
"You tell me."
"Don't be ridiculous," she said. 'There was never anything between me and
Modred." She snorted. "Besides, he's a little old for me, don't you think?"
"I might think so, if I believed that something like that would make the
slightest bit of difference to you, but I know you too well, kiddo. I can
hear
it in your voice too."
"Maybe it's just the runestones," she said, turning away and going back into
the
bedroom. "We're all sort of spiritually bonded. Maybe that's all it is."
"Maybe. What do you think?"
She spun around. "What do you mean, what do I think? I just told you what I
think. Why don't you just come out and say what's on your mind?"
"I love you."
"Oh, shit." She turned around, sighing with exasperation.
"You said to say what's on my mind."
"Yeah, well, you would say that! What, have you been taking guilt-trip
lessons
from your broom?"
"Is that what you think I'm trying to do?"
"Well, what are you trying to do?"
"I'm only trying to find out how you feel," said Wyrdrune. "I'll tell you how
I
feel. I have a feeling that we're getting into something very heavy here, and
I
don't mean potential problems with our relationship. The last time our
milestones started glowing, we became involved in a direct confrontation with
the Dark Ones. And if you'll recall what happened, we almost lost our lives
because Modred broke the link when Morgana was attacked."
"What are you saying, that he shouldn't have tried to help his own mother,
for
God's sake?" said Kira.
"This is going to sound terribly cold, and I'm sorry for that," Wyrdrune said
gravely, "but it was too late for Morgana, anyway." He gently took her by the
shoulders and looked into her eyes. "Because Modred broke the link between us
at
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