Shadow's End
Page 2
Graydon removed his headset and handed it to Liam. “If you just hold it up to your ear, I’ll be able to hear it too.”
His eyes wide with fascination, Liam nodded. He held the headset up to listen to the security detail.
Propping one booted foot on a railing, Graydon crossed his arms over his knee and surveyed the surrounding area as events unfolded like clockwork. He nodded to himself in satisfaction. He liked an evening that held no surprises.
All the rooftops of the neighboring buildings had been checked and cleared, and the last team member had settled into place. Eighty stories below, on the ground, a crowd of paparazzi had formed along the sidewalk that bordered the front steps of the Tower. Legally, the sidewalk was as close to Cuelebre Towers as the paparazzi were allowed to get without an express invitation to a press conference.
Graydon’s smartphone buzzed in the front pocket of his jeans, a short vibration that indicated he had received a text message or an email. He ignored it for the moment, as he gave the rooftops of the surrounding buildings one last, narrow-eyed check.
Three blocks away a sleek, black limousine turned a corner. Dragos and Pia were arriving right on time. The limo pulled to a smooth stop at the front steps of the Tower.
Hugh, a gargoyle Wyr who alternated between acting as Liam’s bodyguard and a member of Pia’s personal security team, stepped forward to open the rear door. Bending slightly, he held out a hand in invitation.
Slender female fingers grasped Hugh’s. Graydon might be eighty stories away, but his sharp gryphon’s eyes picked up the brilliant flash of diamond on the woman’s ring finger.
First Pia’s long slender legs emerged, then the woman herself appeared as she climbed out of the car, her gleaming pale blond hair piled high on her head. She wore a silver sequined dress and a luxurious-looking white faux fur stole, and she shone like a slender pillar of white fire in the night.
Immediately following Pia’s exit, her husband Dragos poured out of the limo, nearly seven feet tall and three hundred pounds of hard, muscled male, the most lethal Wyr predator in the world.
The white shirt of his tux emphasized his dark bronze skin, straight black hair and piercing gold eyes. Several of the paparazzi took a step back, their instincts telling them that danger walked in their midst. They were the smart ones of the bunch.
Their instinctive caution didn’t stop them from doing their jobs. Lights exploded from cameras all around the couple, and Dragos turned his face away. His expression looked hard and bored. He hated having his picture taken.
Pia and Dragos climbed the steps and disappeared from Graydon’s sight as they stepped into the building. The paparazzi’s attention splintered. Individuals wandered in different directions, several talking on cell phones. With a near silent, collective sigh, the security detail outside relaxed.
Alexander said, “Stand down. That’s a wrap for the night.”
Graydon held out his hand for the headset, and Liam handed it over.
“Nice work, everybody,” Graydon said into the mic. “The kitchen will be serving a late supper for the next hour. Chef said there would be prime rib in the cafeteria for people who pulled security duty tonight.”
A flurry of good nights came down the link.
Liam grinned at him. “One of these days I’m gonna be on one of those details.”
“Yeah?” Graydon returned his grin. “One of these days, you might be leading one.”
“Cool.” Liam fell into step beside him as he strode across the rooftop, heading for the staircase. “Can I have some prime rib too?”
Earlier that evening, the two of them had polished off an extra-large pepperoni pizza while watching old Hammer House of Horror episodes, but the boy was a bottomless pit.
“Of course you can,” Graydon said. The cafeteria was located just one story below the penthouse. The upper stories of Cuelebre Tower were secure, so he told Liam, “You go on to the cafeteria.”
Liam paused on the steps to look back at him. “Aren’t you coming?”
“I’m gonna check in with your mom and dad,” he told the boy. “Come back up to the penthouse when you’re done eating.”
“Okay,” said Liam. He gave Graydon a hug and a quick smile. “Thanks for letting me hang out with you this evening.”
His expression softened, and he returned the hug. “My pleasure, sport.”
He watched as Liam ran ahead, then he continued on his way to the penthouse.
That evening, Dragos and Pia had attended one of the major political functions of the year, a kick-off event that started two weeks of meetings, suppers and balls that surrounded the winter holiday celebrations.
For the Elder Races, the time around the summer solstice was the main political season. Winter solstice marked a smaller, secondary season. Some politics were involved, but those meetings tended to be quieter and smaller.
Much of the focus of the winter season was social, as it was the time to celebrate the Masque of the Gods. Every year in New York, the numbers of the Elder Races swelled as Dragos hosted one of the biggest, most elaborate masques in the world, and dignitaries and celebrities came from all the other demesnes to attend.
Once Graydon stepped inside the penthouse, he set his rifle aside gently. His cell phone vibrated again, and he pulled it out of his pocket to check his messages.
The messages app was still open to his unsent text.
He gazed down at it. He hadn’t typed, “I need to see you,” as he had intended.
Instead, his screen read: I need you.
The cool silence in the spacious, luxurious apartment pressed against his ears. Gently, he tapped the erase button until the text disappeared.
Pia appeared in the doorway. She had slipped off her faux fur stole and carried it slung over one shoulder. Up close, she was even more eye catching, as the sequins in her dress picked up every fraction of light and magnified it.
His eyes wide with fascination, Liam nodded. He held the headset up to listen to the security detail.
Propping one booted foot on a railing, Graydon crossed his arms over his knee and surveyed the surrounding area as events unfolded like clockwork. He nodded to himself in satisfaction. He liked an evening that held no surprises.
All the rooftops of the neighboring buildings had been checked and cleared, and the last team member had settled into place. Eighty stories below, on the ground, a crowd of paparazzi had formed along the sidewalk that bordered the front steps of the Tower. Legally, the sidewalk was as close to Cuelebre Towers as the paparazzi were allowed to get without an express invitation to a press conference.
Graydon’s smartphone buzzed in the front pocket of his jeans, a short vibration that indicated he had received a text message or an email. He ignored it for the moment, as he gave the rooftops of the surrounding buildings one last, narrow-eyed check.
Three blocks away a sleek, black limousine turned a corner. Dragos and Pia were arriving right on time. The limo pulled to a smooth stop at the front steps of the Tower.
Hugh, a gargoyle Wyr who alternated between acting as Liam’s bodyguard and a member of Pia’s personal security team, stepped forward to open the rear door. Bending slightly, he held out a hand in invitation.
Slender female fingers grasped Hugh’s. Graydon might be eighty stories away, but his sharp gryphon’s eyes picked up the brilliant flash of diamond on the woman’s ring finger.
First Pia’s long slender legs emerged, then the woman herself appeared as she climbed out of the car, her gleaming pale blond hair piled high on her head. She wore a silver sequined dress and a luxurious-looking white faux fur stole, and she shone like a slender pillar of white fire in the night.
Immediately following Pia’s exit, her husband Dragos poured out of the limo, nearly seven feet tall and three hundred pounds of hard, muscled male, the most lethal Wyr predator in the world.
The white shirt of his tux emphasized his dark bronze skin, straight black hair and piercing gold eyes. Several of the paparazzi took a step back, their instincts telling them that danger walked in their midst. They were the smart ones of the bunch.
Their instinctive caution didn’t stop them from doing their jobs. Lights exploded from cameras all around the couple, and Dragos turned his face away. His expression looked hard and bored. He hated having his picture taken.
Pia and Dragos climbed the steps and disappeared from Graydon’s sight as they stepped into the building. The paparazzi’s attention splintered. Individuals wandered in different directions, several talking on cell phones. With a near silent, collective sigh, the security detail outside relaxed.
Alexander said, “Stand down. That’s a wrap for the night.”
Graydon held out his hand for the headset, and Liam handed it over.
“Nice work, everybody,” Graydon said into the mic. “The kitchen will be serving a late supper for the next hour. Chef said there would be prime rib in the cafeteria for people who pulled security duty tonight.”
A flurry of good nights came down the link.
Liam grinned at him. “One of these days I’m gonna be on one of those details.”
“Yeah?” Graydon returned his grin. “One of these days, you might be leading one.”
“Cool.” Liam fell into step beside him as he strode across the rooftop, heading for the staircase. “Can I have some prime rib too?”
Earlier that evening, the two of them had polished off an extra-large pepperoni pizza while watching old Hammer House of Horror episodes, but the boy was a bottomless pit.
“Of course you can,” Graydon said. The cafeteria was located just one story below the penthouse. The upper stories of Cuelebre Tower were secure, so he told Liam, “You go on to the cafeteria.”
Liam paused on the steps to look back at him. “Aren’t you coming?”
“I’m gonna check in with your mom and dad,” he told the boy. “Come back up to the penthouse when you’re done eating.”
“Okay,” said Liam. He gave Graydon a hug and a quick smile. “Thanks for letting me hang out with you this evening.”
His expression softened, and he returned the hug. “My pleasure, sport.”
He watched as Liam ran ahead, then he continued on his way to the penthouse.
That evening, Dragos and Pia had attended one of the major political functions of the year, a kick-off event that started two weeks of meetings, suppers and balls that surrounded the winter holiday celebrations.
For the Elder Races, the time around the summer solstice was the main political season. Winter solstice marked a smaller, secondary season. Some politics were involved, but those meetings tended to be quieter and smaller.
Much of the focus of the winter season was social, as it was the time to celebrate the Masque of the Gods. Every year in New York, the numbers of the Elder Races swelled as Dragos hosted one of the biggest, most elaborate masques in the world, and dignitaries and celebrities came from all the other demesnes to attend.
Once Graydon stepped inside the penthouse, he set his rifle aside gently. His cell phone vibrated again, and he pulled it out of his pocket to check his messages.
The messages app was still open to his unsent text.
He gazed down at it. He hadn’t typed, “I need to see you,” as he had intended.
Instead, his screen read: I need you.
The cool silence in the spacious, luxurious apartment pressed against his ears. Gently, he tapped the erase button until the text disappeared.
Pia appeared in the doorway. She had slipped off her faux fur stole and carried it slung over one shoulder. Up close, she was even more eye catching, as the sequins in her dress picked up every fraction of light and magnified it.
