Anna smiled at the thank you, but her eyes remained troubled. “I’ve heard that the art gallery might still be a target for the terrorists since the Queen’s Delegation returned to Elfhome.”
“Vance Roycraft is no longer a threat.” Their father avoided saying the man was actually killed in a shoot-out.
Jillian continued with megawatt-level cute. “Our friend Zahara was late that day. She and her little brother were at the front door—the good side of the front door—when it went off. Boom!”
Louise nudged Jillian to get her to stop talking about the bomb. It felt wrong to be talking about it so casually. Zahara and her brother had nearly been killed.
“Zahara is Mbeya’s daughter.” Their mother stooped to name-dropping.
“They haven’t caught all the members of that terrorist group.” Anna looked honestly worried. “Are you sure it’s safe for them to go to Perelman with all that’s going on in the city? Maybe they would be safer at a boarding school.”
“That is what the terrorists want,” their mother said. “Us so frightened that we run and hide.”
“You’re making a statement with your daughters’ lives,” Anna said.
Their mother straightened to full warrior queen height. “I feel safer with them home with us where I can check on them any time.”
“Do you have children?” Their father tried to run interference on a brewing fight.
Both women gave him a hard look.
Anna relented first. “Yes, I do. They’re all older than you, and unfortunately, unlikely to give me any grandchildren. My sons have a genetic disorder and my two girls are both grown women who chose lives that don’t include a husband and children.”
“Oh, I’m—I’m sorry.” Their father gave their mother a slightly panicked look.
“You should rethink your decision on Perelman,” Anna said. “Children are your greatest treasure. When you lose your children, it tears a hole in your heart. Without my children to fill it up, my house is too big and empty. I would just rattle around it at night if I stayed home, so I go to events like this to fill my time.”
She laughed as if this was a joke and their parents were forced to join in. This night, Louise realized, wasn’t the end of the war, but the start of a new battle. She could take no more; she attempted a rescue. “Can we go find Nigel Reid and get his autograph?”
“We have Tesla with us!” Jillian reminded their parents. “So you could keep on talking.”
Louise wanted to kick Jillian; couldn’t she see that their parents needed saved?
Jillian caught her glare and patted her purse, reminding Louise that they wanted to hand over the gossamer call in person. They wouldn’t be able to do that with their parents in tow. They’d assumed that at some point one of them would slip free but it would be more fun if both of them got to talk to him.
“Adult conversation is so boring to them at that age,” Anna said. “Let them go. We have things to discuss.”
“We do?” Their mother nearly growled the question.
“I have a Christmas event in mind at the AMNH that I think your company would be perfect for.”
Their mother took a deep breath and flicked her hand, dismissing them. “Yes, go on.”
Jillian caught Louise’s hand and dragged her way. Louise wished she didn’t feel like she was abandoning her parents to evil.
* * *
There was face painting, balloon animals, clowns and jugglers and herds of squealing kids. Since they still had time before the meeting, they got their faces painted on the theory it was like a mask. The artist did them both as Bengal Tiger cubs that complimented their yellow dresses and black belt. As an additional precaution, they went past the buffet table and loaded a plate full of cookies for Joy, just in case the baby dragon woke up.
They had picked out one of the smaller meeting rooms that they knew would be empty and hacked into Waldorf Astoria’s event scheduling system to make sure it would be unlocked for the night. Louise led, still uneasy from her encounter with Anna Desmarais. The uncomfortable feeling of looking in a mirror and seeing something ugly reflected. All they had done to set up their meeting was have the room unlocked. They couldn’t expect a private conversation with Nigel any other way; the stars were all being mobbed by crowds of excited fans who were being lined up and timed for their few moments of interaction. They only planned to do good things, so a certain level of ruthlessness could be forgiven—right?
Distracted by her thoughts, she was off-balance when they walked into the room and found Nigel waiting. He’d taken advantage of the table and had a slickie, a tablet, and a phone laid out. His blonde hair was better contained than it was on camera, and he wore a tuxedo instead of his normal bush khakis and white linen shirt. There was no mistaking, though, his merry blue eyes and gentle smile.