Battle Lines
Jarvis Wormfang Sutherland, aka Gluttony, stormed into the office, his face ruddy and perspiring. His jowls shook with indignation. I glanced at him mildly. I just hoped he could fly in his drake form. I know, I am mean.
"You allowed the bastard to stay with you," Gluttony began his tirade. "You should know better. He's not a Sutherland. He shouldn't be let into our office nor our house."
I sipped my coffee. "My house, Jarvis. Not yours."
Like Famine a while back, Gluttony bristled at my tone. "My lord."
"And he has Sutherland blood and he's my half-brother. That makes him a Sutherland too. Unless you want to be anal-retentive about the whole thing and research his entire bloodline. He's royalty too, by the way. Offend that side of his family and you will find your life a living hell."
"My lord!"
"I am sure they would put a curse on your physical house and all sorts of misfortune would follow. Perhaps that would encourage you to lose some weight. Do not offend the duende at any level. Unless you offend me and I would have to ask Filipe to call in help from that side of his family."
"My lord!"
I put my mug down forcefully. "Stop repeating yourself. It's disgusting and rude."
"Your father..."
I rose from my chair. "What would my father say then?" I felt my drake form take shape, like an aura. My tail rattled, my hiss rising from my throat.
Gluttony deflated visibly.
"Do something useful, like settle the negotiations with the very important shipping company you have been harping about for the past week. Get that deal done. I hate to threaten people, Jarvis."
"Yes, my lord!" Gluttony blurted, sweating even more. He rushed out of the office.
I sank back into the chair. How did Father manage these people? I was never a people person. The last thing I did that, I got burnt and a large dose of hate from the Myriad groups in Singapore. Now I had to flush the Dark Claws out, erase them from memory and make sure the drake clans listen to me and not do anything breathtakingly stupid.
~*~
For lunch, I slurped down Katong laksa. It was immensely comforting. Thick rice noodles in a creamy spicy soup, liberally coated with chilli paste, sliced fishcake and a generous amount of raw cockles. I made sure Robert didn't drive me to the stall. I had to have time for myself. Done with the laksa, I then sipped a cold glass of iced coffee, watching the lunch crowd throng past the tables and chairs. A stray black cat purred and rubbed herself against my legs. The sun was finally shining after a week of monsoon rains. The trees glistened peridot gold. I felt myself finally relax.
There was a loud crash, metal against metal - and glass shattering. People gasped and yelled, some jumping up from their tables at the stalls. I looked up to find a car jammed up against the railing. I raced across the road and stopped before the car. Its front was pretty much gone. The smell of petroleum was strong. The doors were scrunched up like tin foil. It was an expensive car - Continental car, Swedish brand, silver-colored. A woman was inside the driver's seat, bent over the steering wheel. Without thinking, I wrenched the door open, thanks to my half-Lung, half-drake strength.
The woman flopped into my arms. She was light and smelled of a floral scent I couldn't recognize. Pastel shades - a light sky-blue - expensive pant suit. A diplomat's wife then? She was breathing. I heaved a sigh of relief. I rolled her over onto her back. She had gnarled skin.
She opened her eyes. They were the shade of cold ice. Her thin lips curved into a smile. "I found you."
Instinctively, I backed away. Two men pushed their way through the crowd. They looked like hired muscle. One scooped her up into his tree-trunk arms. Without any word, they both walked away and drove off in a similar looking car.
The whole afternoon had gone into weird mode.
~*~
I returned to the office, feeling off-kilter. Refusing a cup of hot tea from Gluttony, I shut myself in the office and sought comfort from numbers. However thoughts spun. Who was she? Was she the woman from my dream? Why?
Dökkálfar.
The realization scared me. The situation had escalated too quickly. I felt as if I was heading towards a precipice on a bike without steering and accelerators gone. It would seem that the Dökkálfar wanted to force the issue. They were literally knocking at my door.
My body broke into uncontrollably shaking. I was indeed out of my depth. I wanted to call Mother to seek her advice. I wasn't going to play politics again. But here I was - with dark elves and Dark Claws up to my nostrils. Fuck fuck fuck.
The phone ringing almost scared me out of my skin. It was Filipe.
"You have better see this!" he said excitedly.
~*~
"This," Filipe stabbed his finger at the spreadsheet.
I was back in Father's study - my study now - and stared at Filipe's wonderfully arranged list of receipts and assorted physical links to our father's past. Dates accompanied entries: there were bills, ledgers, forms and ... diary entries. Diary entries. I never knew Father kept a diary. But Father was always too private, too secretive.
"I don't see anything interesting of note," I said.
Filipe frowned as if he was talking to an idiot. "No, no, no. Just look at this and this," he pointed at two particular entries. One was dated late November 1969: "Uneasy truce with dark elves". The second one was December 1970: "Signed. We are done. Now we face them."
"Who the hell is 'them'?" I snapped, feeling none the wiser. My blood had run cold. There it was, in black and white: "dark elves". "Did you find anything else? Any reference to 'them'?"
Filipe's face actually turned pale. "Actually yes. One word."
"What then?" I said and regretted my tone. "What?"
"Maleficent."
"Just that?"
"Just that," Filipe grabbed a can of beer from the fridge. He took two large gulps before continuing. "Apparently, what I gather is that the Maleficent was some evil they faced together or something. It's straight out from a fantasy novel."
"Shit," I rubbed my face and sat down on my chair, found that there were bits of papers on it, and opted to sit on the floor instead.
"Why didn't Father tell you?" Filipe passed me a can of beer. I nodded at him gratefully.
The beer lifted my spirits somewhat. "He didn't tell anyone of us. I suspect my mother might know... but that's just conjecture from me. He kept to himself, secrets and all. I don't think even Gluttony and Famine knew anything..."
"Unless they do," Filipe said, lifting an eyebrow.
I crushed the can in my hand. "Then they have a lot of explaining to do."
"Dude, chill," Filipe glanced at me.
"The two are always hiding things... from me," I growled. "It's time they start talking."
Dökkálfar. Dark Claw. Matters that affected my drake clan. My clan, for fuck's sake. Snarling, I grabbed the nearest phone and called Gluttony. The line was engaged. I tried calling Famine next. The same thing: engaged. My blood pressure shot up. I typed a text message to the two of them: See me in my office at 8am sharp.
I went to bed, furious. My father's closest advisors were also my obstacles. How much had they hidden from me? How much had they hidden from Father?
When I reached the office the next morning, filled with fire and brimstone, the lights of Gluttony and Famine's offices were off. Strange. They were always very punctual.
"Honor, where's Mr Jarvis Sutherland?" I asked Gluttony's PA who appeared a little distracted with her tablet. Honor was a petite Chinese woman, with a pixie cut. She had sunflowers on her skirt.
"Sir!" Honor's eyes widened. "Good morning!"
"Where's Mr Jarvis Sutherland?" I repeated. Honor bit her lower lip. "Honor? I have a lot of things on my plate this morning. I do not like delays."
Honor's breathing grew panicked. I could hear her heart going thump thump thump, and the rush of blood in her veins. "Sir, he... flew off this morning."
"Ah," I said, controlling my anger. "And?"
"He flew off with Mr Cedric Sutherland. They didn't say where they were going. I thought they would inform you." Now Honor looked as if she was about to cry. I felt sorry for her.
"Thank you, Honor," I said, smiling to lighten the mood. "Go and get yourself some coffee. We have many issues on the agenda. Let's get them started."
Honor ducked away quickly and gratefully. I stormed into my office and sank into my chair, suddenly weary. I tried to reassure myself that they might have flown off to complete the shipping deal. I was reading into things too much. I was becoming paranoid.
Yet I knew, somewhat, that battle lines had been drawn. I had potential dissenters in my own clan.