Bloodfever
Page 29
Barrons looked at me. I was careful not to nod. Yes, I told him, as we took our seats in the third row on the right side of the room. Id been feeling it ever since wed entered the shelter but Id had no way of knowing if it was a Fae relic, or an actual Fae, until I had the opportunity to examine all persons in the vicinity. There were no glamours being cast; the occupants of this room were human, which meant there was a very powerful OOP under all that velvet somewhere. On a nausea scale of one to tenten being the Sinsar Dubh, and most other things topping out at a three or four, with nothing so far between six and ten but the single ten that had made me lose consciousnessit was a five, and I thumbed from my pocket one of the Tums Id begun taking to help with the discomfort of carrying the spear all the time, which, by the way, Id left on Barrons desk earlier at his direction, so he could strap it to his leg, not mine. Id hated giving it up, but my sleek suit afforded no hiding places. Though there was little trust between us, I knew he would return it to me quickly if I needed it.
The door closes at midnight. His lips brushed my ear and I shivered, which seemed to amuse him. Anyone not inside by then doesnt get in. There are always a couple of last-minute stragglers.
I glanced at his watch. There were three and a half minutes to go and still half a dozen seats to fill. During the next minute, five were taken, leaving one empty up front. Though I craned my neck, studying every face, Barrons stared straight ahead. You must be more than my OOP detector tonight, Ms. Lane, hed told me on the plane, you must be my eyes and ears. I want you to analyze everyone, listen to everything. I want to know who betrays excitement over what item, who wins worriedly, who loses badly.
Why? You always notice way more than me.
Where were going tonight, noticing anyone other than yourself is considered a sign of uncertainty, weakness. You must notice for me.
Who noticed for you in the past? Fiona?
Barrons just ignores me when he doesnt feel like answering.
And so I was the green one, looking around. It wasnt as bad as I expected because no one would look back at me. Some of their gazes flickered a little, as if they resented being studied when the nature of the game being played prevented them from returning the stare.
I found it silly that they all dressed up so much just to come sit in metal chairs in a dusty bomb shelter, but with people this wealthy, money wasnt something they had, it was who they were, and they would wear it to their graves.
There were twenty-six men and eleven women. They ranged in age from early thirties all the way up to a white-haired man who was ninety-five if a day, in a wheelchair, accompanied by an oxygen tank and bodyguards. His sallow skin was so thin and translucent I could see the network of veins behind his face. He was sick with something that was eatinghim alive. He was the only one that looked directly back at me. He had scary eyes. I wondered what a man so close to death wanted so badly. I hope when Im ninety-five the only things I want are free: love, family, a good home-cooked meal.
Most of the conversation was about the inconvenience of their current location, the mud damage the short jaunt through the woods had done to their shoes, the dismal state of current political affairs, and the even more dismal weather. No one mentioned the items about to be auctioned, as if they couldnt have cared less about what was up for grabs. The entire time they pretended not to be interested in anyone or anything around them, they snatched greedy little glimpses by fabricating actions to justify movement. Two women withdrew jeweled compacts and checked their lipstick, but it wasnt their mouths they examined in those clever mirrors. Four people dropped various items from their laps for an excuse to move about and retrieve them. It was kind of funny in a sad way how many people dove for the goods, trying to use it as their own excuse.
Seven people got up and tried to go to the bathroom. The armed henchmen declined their requests, but at least they got a good look around.
I have never seen a more avaricious, paranoid assortment of people. Barrons didnt fit in any more than I did. If I was a minnow and they were sharks, he was one of those yet undiscovered fish that lurk in the deepest, darkest reaches of the ocean where sunlight and man never go.
A distinguished-looking gentleman with silver hair and a neatly trimmed beard entered the room and I thought for a moment he was the final attendee, but he headed straight for the podium. On the way there, he greeted many warmly and by name, with a clipped British accent and sparkling eyes.
When he arrived at the podium, he welcomed us, recounted a short list of conditions to which wed all agreed to abide by by the mere virtue of our presence, and said that any could leave now that so chose (I wondered darkly if they would be permitted to live if they did). He then detailed accepted methods of payment, and just as the auction was about to begin, a very famous man you would recognizeyou see him on TV all the timeslipped into the final seat.
The bidding opened with a Monet and grew more surreal to me from there. I learned that night that some of the finest art and artifacts in the world will never be seen by common man, but will continue to pass down through the ages via a hidden network of the uber-wealthy.
I saw paintings the world didnt know had been painted, artifacts I couldnt believe had survived the ages, the hand-penned copy of a play that has never been and will never be performed, much to our disastrous loss. I learned there are people that will pay a fortune to possess something that is one of a kind, for the sheer pleasure of possessing it and having a handful of their peers envy them the possession.
The door closes at midnight. His lips brushed my ear and I shivered, which seemed to amuse him. Anyone not inside by then doesnt get in. There are always a couple of last-minute stragglers.
I glanced at his watch. There were three and a half minutes to go and still half a dozen seats to fill. During the next minute, five were taken, leaving one empty up front. Though I craned my neck, studying every face, Barrons stared straight ahead. You must be more than my OOP detector tonight, Ms. Lane, hed told me on the plane, you must be my eyes and ears. I want you to analyze everyone, listen to everything. I want to know who betrays excitement over what item, who wins worriedly, who loses badly.
Why? You always notice way more than me.
Where were going tonight, noticing anyone other than yourself is considered a sign of uncertainty, weakness. You must notice for me.
Who noticed for you in the past? Fiona?
Barrons just ignores me when he doesnt feel like answering.
And so I was the green one, looking around. It wasnt as bad as I expected because no one would look back at me. Some of their gazes flickered a little, as if they resented being studied when the nature of the game being played prevented them from returning the stare.
I found it silly that they all dressed up so much just to come sit in metal chairs in a dusty bomb shelter, but with people this wealthy, money wasnt something they had, it was who they were, and they would wear it to their graves.
There were twenty-six men and eleven women. They ranged in age from early thirties all the way up to a white-haired man who was ninety-five if a day, in a wheelchair, accompanied by an oxygen tank and bodyguards. His sallow skin was so thin and translucent I could see the network of veins behind his face. He was sick with something that was eatinghim alive. He was the only one that looked directly back at me. He had scary eyes. I wondered what a man so close to death wanted so badly. I hope when Im ninety-five the only things I want are free: love, family, a good home-cooked meal.
Most of the conversation was about the inconvenience of their current location, the mud damage the short jaunt through the woods had done to their shoes, the dismal state of current political affairs, and the even more dismal weather. No one mentioned the items about to be auctioned, as if they couldnt have cared less about what was up for grabs. The entire time they pretended not to be interested in anyone or anything around them, they snatched greedy little glimpses by fabricating actions to justify movement. Two women withdrew jeweled compacts and checked their lipstick, but it wasnt their mouths they examined in those clever mirrors. Four people dropped various items from their laps for an excuse to move about and retrieve them. It was kind of funny in a sad way how many people dove for the goods, trying to use it as their own excuse.
Seven people got up and tried to go to the bathroom. The armed henchmen declined their requests, but at least they got a good look around.
I have never seen a more avaricious, paranoid assortment of people. Barrons didnt fit in any more than I did. If I was a minnow and they were sharks, he was one of those yet undiscovered fish that lurk in the deepest, darkest reaches of the ocean where sunlight and man never go.
A distinguished-looking gentleman with silver hair and a neatly trimmed beard entered the room and I thought for a moment he was the final attendee, but he headed straight for the podium. On the way there, he greeted many warmly and by name, with a clipped British accent and sparkling eyes.
When he arrived at the podium, he welcomed us, recounted a short list of conditions to which wed all agreed to abide by by the mere virtue of our presence, and said that any could leave now that so chose (I wondered darkly if they would be permitted to live if they did). He then detailed accepted methods of payment, and just as the auction was about to begin, a very famous man you would recognizeyou see him on TV all the timeslipped into the final seat.
The bidding opened with a Monet and grew more surreal to me from there. I learned that night that some of the finest art and artifacts in the world will never be seen by common man, but will continue to pass down through the ages via a hidden network of the uber-wealthy.
I saw paintings the world didnt know had been painted, artifacts I couldnt believe had survived the ages, the hand-penned copy of a play that has never been and will never be performed, much to our disastrous loss. I learned there are people that will pay a fortune to possess something that is one of a kind, for the sheer pleasure of possessing it and having a handful of their peers envy them the possession.
