~Chapter Thirty: Force Together~
"Oh no...you didn't," she says in entertained disbelief, moving her hand up to hide her smile. "She was the one who thought 'threatened' would be a better word to use than 'scared'. More manly, she said."
"I'm screwed. So royally screwed," I groan, bumping my head against the nearest hard surface, which happens to be Ryland's shoulder.
The lion leans in a little closer, forcing me to stop hitting him with my head. "All in due time," he promises softly, his accent growing to imitate the perfect bedroom voice.
My sister starts laughing, having heard exactly what he said and seeming not at all worried that he implied he is going to...stick it in me. I am not going to pretend for even a moment that he would not be the – what was the term? – 'pitcher'. "You are a heartless sister, Tory," I glare, as I try to sidestep out of Ryland's grip. However, he only pulls me in tighter, which means I have to resort to verbal communication to convey my thoughts, "Hungry."
Victoria rolls her eyes at my lack of manners, but nods her head, "You two should head to dinner. If you are still there after I take a little nap, my husband and I would love to join you. And, Cade, don't worry about Mom. I might have figured it out, but she does not know as much about your disinterest in friendships as I do. You'll have to tell her eventually, though."
"Yeah, eventually," I grumble, not at all looking forward to that conversation. My parents are not homophobes, but they will probably react the same way I did when Ryland first proposed it. Even if – when – Ryland leaves, I am, at the very least, bisexual now. And I am probably leaning more towards the male gender.
My sister shakes her head, but turns her back to us to ask the woman at the desk a few more questions like I did. Ryland rubs his hand up and down my arm before releasing me. I take a thankful step away, but our arms are practically touching when we enter the restaurant a minute later. We are seated in one of the booths almost immediately, seeing as the room is quite large and there are not a lot of people. This is not a popular time of year for tourists, so it makes sense that there would be so few people.
The room has a really rustic feel to it with dark wooden walls, like the kind you would find in a log cabin, and another large stone fireplace at the center of the room, visible from all sides of the room, but protected by glass. It is very real, like the one in the lobby, which is why the tables around it are empty. It looks like it would be a little hot to be around right now. Maybe when it dies down more, people would be more willing to sit by it.
Similar to the lobby, the floors are covered in the same multi-color stones, but dark brown rugs run down each aisle, almost like a pathway, forming boxes around the tables not against a wall. While they could easily fit more tables into this place, it looks like they took out some of them to make more room while business is slower. It gives a greater illusion of privacy at each table.
With sight alone, I can pick out a couple of cats in the room, both on separate sides of the room. When we are seated, we are on the right side of the room and closer to the cat I know to be a Sumatran tiger, the smallest of the tiger family. He looks up as we pass by his table and offers a tight-lipped smile, which I return along with a small nod. The tiger glances at Ryland, who does not so much as glance his way, and returns to his menu a second later.
Once the host has left us with our menus and taken our drink orders, Ryland and I sit in silence as we contemplate our options. The options are not that vast, but they never are at hotel restaurants. Not that I am complaining. It is a relief to have fewer options to choose from, and it means I will probably be able to try everything at least once during the trip.
Settling on a simple cheeseburger, I set the menu down at the end of the table. Ryland's menu is placed on top of mine a moment later, and with nothing left to distract him, it seems I have his undivided attention. After a couple of minutes of him silently watching, I return his stare. "What?" I ask, not exactly annoyed, but gradually moving closer to that emotion.
"What is it that kept you from making a decision over the week?" He asks, drawing back the topic that I had thought was finally over for the night.
"There's just a lot to think about," I confess. And all the conflicting feelings that seem to cancel out any rational argument I could make have made it incredibly hard.
Ryland leans back into the booth seat, considering my answer, "Anything I can help you clear up?"
I take a moment to actually think about his offer. While I know that he will only try to sway me more towards his side, it would be easier to argue against him – a physical being – than it would to argue against the frenzy, which is all in my head. The heart vs. mind battle is getting worse, as each side of the argument is coming from what I want. To be able to argue out loud to another person might help me come to a decision.
However, I then have to ask myself if I really want to pick a fight with him over dinner, right before a meeting. That has bad idea written all over it. If Ryland ends up angry, he might become snappy towards the other cats. And once they find out that he is a lion, everyone will be even more on edge than they normally are, which could lead to fights. Plus, after I tell them about the witches and demons, no one is going to be in a good mood.
"Maybe later," I decide, playing with the sugar packets and condiments until the waiter returns with our drinks and inquiring about our food orders. Even though the waiter is looking at Ryland when he asks what we want to order, the lion gestures at me to go. "Cheeseburger with no tomato."
He asks me about the specifics, such as what kind of bun and how well I want it done, before looking at Ryland again. "Spaghetti and marinara sauce," he says, though his eyes are on me the entire time, daring me to comment on the stereotypical meal he chose. I normally would, too, but with the limited options, I cannot really blame him for picking something he is familiar with.
The waiter disappears, saying some parting words that neither of us is listening to. He has me trapped in that stare of his, caught like a deer in headlights. Maybe if I wanted to, I would have no trouble diverting my attention to the sugar packets, but the look in his eye is far too appealing for me to look away. He looks hungry, and it is not the food-driven kind of hunger. It is the same kind of hunger I saw in the bedroom Friday morning and again on Sunday for our date.
"What is it now?" I ask, my voice a lot steadier than I feel.
He smiles at me, though it does little to break his predatory hold on me. If anything, he looks more attractive now, with his tempting lips-
Stop. Right. There.
I manage to break eye contact, looking around the room instead. A pair of guys now sitting right next to the fire catch my attention, especially since they are at one of the tables that seem like they would be the hottest. Neither of them has a menu, but are casually drinking, what appears to be, ice tea as they stare at the fire. Both of them are wearing dark suits, which cannot possibly be comfortable that close to the fire.
As if feeling my gaze, one of them – a tall Asian man with very long black hair pulled back into a ponytail – turns to look at me, not even having to scan the room. It looks like he says something, but I cannot hear it over the soft chatter of the room and the roar of the fire. He frowns, before standing up and saying something to his companion – a man of average height and African descent. Confused by his sudden approach, I watch as he draws near.
I expect him to say something, thinking that he was possibly offended by my staring, but without a word, his hand finds the back of my head gently and turns it away from the room. His gentle touch is very deceptive, since there is a great deal of steel in that push. Ryland all but snarls at him when the man touches me, but thankfully stays seated. "Your eyes reflect your emotions, cat," he warns.
When he first approached, I thought he might be another cat, one that I had yet to meet and was maybe new to the area, but I was so very wrong. It is a vastly unfamiliar scent that is not from around here or anywhere I have ever been, which leaves very few options and only one that makes sense. "What are you talking about, demon?" I growl, trying to free my head.
The demon releases his hold on my head without complaint, but continues to block the exit for my side of the booth. I also notice that Ryland is staring at my face and not the stranger, though he still looks pissed. "Your eyes shifted," Ryland explains, so that the demon doesn't have to. He looks very curious, though probably not about the shift, but rather the reason behind it.
I grimace, fighting to rein in my emotions enough for them to shift back. Since shifting of the eyes is painless and feels like nothing more than blinking, I am not exactly sure when my eyes shift back and I have to rely on Ryland's body language to tell me. I would watch the demon, but he gives away nothing with his body language. "Thanks," I grumble, once my eyes are back to normal.
"Do you often lose control of your emotions?" The demon asks, without a hint of curiosity or interest. However, it is not that he sounds uncaring, but rather that he thinks it is a serious topic and is not just asking because he can.
I immediately shake my head, then glance at Ryland, not sure I want him to know the answer. "Rarely," I reply, feeling that he wanted a verbal reply, no matter how short.
The demon watches me closely, but when he fails to detect a lie, he nods once. "Would it be safe to assume that you and your companion are here for the feline summit?" He inquires, putting his hand against the back of the booth to make it easier to lean in closer.
"Sì," Ryland answers, eying him cautiously, only to shift his attention over to the other demon as he, too, approaches the table. This one seems less formal, though, and sits down right next to Ryland. Since it is a nicely-sized booth, there is plenty of room for the lion to scoot over, which he does rather unhappily.
The first demon seems to hesitate, before coping his friend's actions on my side of the table when he realizes that it might look suspicious that he is just standing there. I scoot over to give him room, but find that I do not like being boxed in like this. Too many things could go wrong if these demons turn out not to be friendly. "I'm guessing you're here for a little army recruiting?" I ask, sipping my water like I could not care less about my current position. Ryland is the only one who seems to know that I am not, in fact, okay with it, since he is doing the same thing.
Both of the demons look at each other before direction all their attention to me, ignoring the one who is the bigger threat to them. Though, considering how powerful demons are, we would not be a threat unless we shift. Maybe give them a few bruises and broken bones, but without our claws and teeth, we would have no way defending ourselves against their magic.
"I have it on good authority that only the werewolves know about the upcoming war," the second demon says, leaning his elbows on the table. Ryland looks positively lethal, even though his face is the epitome of calm. "So, how do you know? Any little witchies come vying for your attention?"
"No, but the wolves asked me to share the information at our meeting, since outsiders aren't allowed," I return, giving them pointed looks when I use the word 'outsiders', which is exactly what they are. Even humans – Victoria's husband included – are not allowed inside the conference room while the meeting is taking place. Unlike the wolves, we are not the most civil when it comes to dealing with each other and it would only be worse if someone started a fight with a wolf Alpha – again – or unfairly challenged a human.
The second demon smiles in a completely human gesture of delight, "Then we can count on you to explain the situation? No one else knows we are here, or why, and I don't think they would take kindly to us barging in, bringing news of war."
"You're right; they wouldn't," I reply cautiously, eyeing the both. They do not appear to be a threat anymore, but they are clearly a delegation, which means they have to be figures of some importance in their world. "Who are you, anyway?"
The demon sitting next to Ryland sits up straight again so that he can extend his arm across the table. "I am Koa," he says, holding out his hand for me to shake. I do so reluctantly, feeling a small tingle of magic as our hands meet, though I do not get the sense he is actually using magic on me.
"Koa doesn't sound very demonic," I remark, remembering some of the famous demon names – like Balanohr and Zaemteuxor, two very famous war generals.
The oddly-named demon must have caught my train of thought, because he pulls out a pad of paper from his suit jacket and starts writing on it before sliding it over to me. There are two names written on it, and as I am reading, Koa starts explaining, "I prefer to go by Koa, but my full name is Vepkoadur, pronounced Vep-ko-a-der. I am Captain of the Spy Force. This is Sidr – pronounced Sih-dear – Captain of the Hellion Attack Force."
Ryland refrains from showing any reaction whatsoever to the mention of the Hellion Attack Force, but I am not as unruffled as he is, nor do I try to be. "Why the hell are two captains here for a meeting?" I hiss, keeping my voice low. Humans might not be able to make out what we are saying, but the cat five tables over could eavesdrop if we are loud enough.
"Well, as you suspected, I am here for recruiting purposes. Sidr is here to meet a contact about a missing asset," Koa admits, then tilts his head to the side, as if thinking of something, "You wouldn't happen to know anything about witch prisons, would you?"
The lion starts choking on the water he had been drinking, unable to hide his reaction this time. To my surprise, I manage to keep all of my thoughts off my face, which was probably what clued them in. "What do you know?" Sidr asks, turning in his seat to look at me directly.
"Not much, but a friend of mine had a theory about the prisons and if you guys are asking about them, it kind of confirms his theory that they are up and running again," I confess, wondering how Cameron will feel about being right. Somehow, I cannot imagine him being very happy about it. "I know very little about the prisons themselves, though."
Koa grimaces, then starts rubbing his hands together, "I can't say that is good to hear, but at least we have some new leads. The last few didn't turn out so well. Isn't that right, Sidr?"
If his teasing tone is any indication, something interesting must have happened. Though, I am not stupid enough to ask. What is funny to a demon might not be funny to me. "You weren't the one wearing a dress," the long-haired demon says wryly.
Okay, it might have been funny, but I'm still not asking.
"We'll be back tomorrow. Probably best to let you explain things tonight, make our arrival a little less of a surprise," he says, as he stands up. He offers his hand to Ryland, "Mind if we get your names before you go?"
"Ryland Voclain," I say, pointing at the lion, then pointing at myself, "Cade Wilson."
Perhaps if it were the Fae, I would avoid giving our names, as they can draw power from names. But as far as I know, no one has ever been enslaved to a demon because the demon knew their name.
Koa whistles, as if impressed by something, "Well, I didn't see that coming."
"What?" Ryland asks, beating me to the punch.
Sidr puts a hand on the other demon's shoulder, "It's nothing."
It is clearly not nothing, but since they seem content to leave us in the dark, I am not sure whether or not I should ask about it. It clearly has something to do with one of us, but maybe they knew some distant relative of one of ours. Since they are ageless, it is very possible.
However, before I can make up my mind on what I want to do, they walk back to their table to resume drinking their tea. And any ideas about walking over to them are pushed from my mind, because the food arrives a few seconds late, with an apology from the waiter for taking so long. Apparently, the kitchen door refused to open until just now, even though it was a swinging door and there was no lock.
- - - - - - -
The conference hall is bigger than it was last year. There is a glass wall at one end that gives a view different view of the city from the one I get in my room and the ceilings look shiny, nothing at all like the rest of the hotel and its rustic theme. In the middle of the carpeted room, there is a large, oval table that has at least eighteen chairs on each side and one on each end. At first, I thought there were security cameras on the ceiling, but then I realized that they were all pointed in the same direction and were actually lights.
On the far wall, there is a monitor, as well as two doors, both leading to two different fire escapes. The room is on the fifth floor, which offers a lot of privacy. It is less likely that anyone will barge into the meeting, thinking that it is a different conference. I, as well as multiple other cats, did that last year, since all the conference halls looked exactly the same and were right next to each other, mixing up scents. It was the wrong hotel to use, especially since some humans accidentally walked in on us, too. I feel bad for the poor human who walked in on a jaguar launching himself across the table at an aggressive tigress. They managed to remain human in appearance, but the man looked so confused when no one tried to break up the fight, only usher him out before he could see something bad.
Even though Ryland and I are a couple of minutes later, there are still a few empty seats and the host is one of the missing people. We sit on the left side of the table, in a pair of empty seats. The host, the same jaguar who attacked a tigress last year, walks in five minutes later, seating himself at the head of the table, on the opposite side of Ryland and myself.
Dark blond hair, hazel eyes, Caucasian, and his anger issues seem bigger than his height, which is slightly below average. Jamison is the type of guy you do not want to piss off. Not because he is scary, but because he is the most annoying guy you will ever meet and if you make him angry, he will keep pestering you. Well, at least until he finds someone else who makes him angrier.
"Who are you?" He asks, turning his full attention to Ryland as he stands up again, seemingly surprised to see him.
I growl below my breath, which everyone on our side of the room probably hears. "I emailed you Sunday about a guest from Italy. This is Ryland Voclain, brother to the pride king..." I trail off, glancing at Ryland to make sure I have the correct term. When he nods, I continue, "...of North Italy."
This catches everyone's attention, though I am not sure if it is the fact that he is a lion or because he is the pride king's brother. Either way, everyone is looking now, including my parents, who I failed to notice when I first entered. Or maybe they walked in as I was talking. If my mother has not already figured it out yet, she probably will soon.
Victoria walks in alone, just after the introduction has ended, and while she smiles our way, she seats herself next to my parents, on the other side of the table, a couple seats from Jamison. The jaguar continues to eye Ryland for another minute, before he sits back down. "Is this everyone?"
"My sister still isn't here, but I'll update her later, if I have to," Tory says, before I can. I glance at my parents, but they were looking my way with the same look.
When no one else is declared missing, Jamison looks at me, "Wilson, I believe you had something you needed to discuss something with everyone."
I stand up, gathering my thoughts to prepare, and begin to explain a less-detailed version of everything I know. The detailed version would be best told by the demons that are actually fighting the stupid war. When I am done, I am met with silence, which is not unlike what I expected. Cats never take change well, myself included. Not that I really care about the war right now. I am too worried about the answer to the one question that continued to haunt my thoughts throughout the entire speech:
Where's Heather?
[AN: *Squints* Somehow, this story managed to reach over ten-thousand reads. Not sure how that happened, but I want to thank everyone who has been voting and commenting. Hope everyone had a great day today!]