I frowned. “What?”
“Your Domicile is holding four people captive,” Martina explained. “I can hear them through the walls. Two of them are trying to break through a solid wall. One of them is crying.”
“Violet!” I felt the floorboards beneath my feet cringe. “Are those detectives stuck in my old apartment?”
I felt her tentatively bump my feet, a hesitant yes. She didn’t like them.
“They’re not prisoners, Violet,” I sighed. “You can let them out.”
Her floorboards reluctantly groaned in acquiescence. “It’s okay, Martina, thank you. Violet is letting them go now.”
“I’m still in the hallway. I don't see them.”
A faint scream floated up from below us. Cecil, watching a screen, let out a hoot of laughter. “Violet opened up the slide in the floor under the detective’s feet.” He laughed. “They’re shooting out a hole in the side of the building right now.”
Martina obviously heard him. “I’ll go down and smooth things over.”
“Wow,” I said, chewing on the side of my nail. “I like her.”
“We all like Martina.” Cecil tried to hand me my martini again. “She cuts through red tape with the same enthusiasm as Cress cuts off limbs in battle.” He bumped the glass into my boob. “We told you that our lawyers would eat Vincent’s lawyers for breakfast.”
“Hmm.” I nodded, then frowned. “Wait. Not… not literally, right?”
“No, you moron. Martina is human. That was literally the whole point of her story.”
“I feel like I still need to check. And besides, there are lots of humans who eat other humans.”
There was a knock at the door. “It’s me!” Bart’s voice called out. “I found one!”
Chapter
Twenty-Two
Bart leaned back beside the window of the drawing room, breathing deeply and taking little sips of his negroni as if he was trying to hydrate after running a marathon. “It’s nice to know my parents are good for something.”
“I appreciate it so much, Bart. I know how hard it was for you to call them.”
He took a deep breath and nodded. “I had to use my entire daily allowance of fake charm on them. I’m probably going to be awfully rude and vulgar for the rest of the day, just warning you.”
I caught Cecil’s eye, wordlessly directing him to keep the cocktails coming. Bart wasn’t being dramatic; he was a deeply sensitive soul who had been devastated when his parents publicly disowned him. It would have been so hard for him to call them and engineer a conversation towards the centaurs.
They’d delivered, though. Not only did the Montgomery-Litchenstiens know several big families of centaurs, but they also knew where a portal to their realm was—as it turned out, there was an easy access point located at their private sports club—the Clarendon Club.
I knew the place well. Over the years, I’d been a guest at several big functions held there.
Bart drained his cocktail and took another one out of Cecil’s hooves. “Mummy and Daddy said that their centaur friends were all heading to the Clarendon club for an important ‘summit’ tonight,” he said, his voice a little less shaky. “According to Mummy, they were being far more haughty than usual about it. One of them even said that the centaurs would be solving all the problems of the Middle World tonight, and that the shifter population will be so grateful when this is all over. It pissed Mummy off to no end.”
“I’ll bet.” I paced, thinking furiously. There were several problems we had to tackle to get through to the centaur realm—the first one being the fact that security at the Clarendon was incredibly tight. A million ideas rushed through my head. “I need to make notes.”
Violet dutifully produced a whiteboard from between her floorboards. “Thanks, Violet.” I picked up a marker and wrote Goal 1: Get through Clarendon Club security. “Should we sneak in?”
“I’m all over that, Chosen,” Cecil whipped out a laptop. “I’ll get Martina to sort out a membership for the Prince, and you can go as his guest. The rest of us can go as the Prince’s security.”
Eryk, Nate, and Cress were already busy getting ready—they snapped on sheathes, sharpened blades, and strapped giant swords all over their bodies. “And I can come in a stroller as the Prince’s baby,” Cecil added.
Everyone shouted at the same time, “No!”
“You can’t come as a baby,” I told him. “Children aren’t allowed in the Clarendon Club at all.”
He looked hurt.
“But we do need you, Cecil,” I added. “The only way you’ll be allowed in is if you come as a service animal. Can you go back to your Labrador form?”
Cecil screwed up his nose. “The baby is much more fun. It’s amazing what those little shits can get away with.”
“It’s the service animal, or you have to stay at home,” I said sternly.
“Fine.”
“Now, our next probl—I mean, our next goal.” I turned back to the whiteboard and wrote Goal 2: find the portal to the centaur realm.
“That will be the simplest part,” Donovan said. “Centaurs are arrogant enough not to worry about keeping their portal secret from other supernatural creatures. As with the other portals, you must have centaur blood or a blood key to go through to their realm, but they only hide their portals from humans. They will not even care if they see us go through. The only problem will be the fact that they will not head for the portal until the last minute, so we must be vigilant.”
I squinted. “Why would they wait until the last minute?”
“Centaur culture,” he explained. “The most important people always arrive last.”
“And all the best seats in the amphitheater are in the back,” Cecil chipped in. “None of them will want to get there first. There will be a mad rush to get to the portal right before the summit starts.”
