"We need her back. Now!" Wlodek started speaking English again. "This changes many things. We still need to protect her; she is still young as a vampire and her training is not complete. But a Queen," Wlodek's voice was almost reverent.
"How do you propose we get her back?" Merrill was as calm as he could be under the circumstances. He glanced over at Gavin, who was still in the floor, about to experience a meltdown.
"If you ask the proper person, it might be arranged," Griffin appeared in Wlodek's study, lifting a paperweight off the corner of Wlodek's desk. It was a huge gold coin, minted by the Royal Canadian Mint and valued at approximately a million dollars, U.S.
Gavin lifted his head and growled, although he hadn't moved; Wlodek and Merrill were accepting the sudden appearance with calm.
"Don't growl at me, you deserve what you're getting right now," Griffin chided.
"Don't threaten Griffin, you'll be sorry, I promise," Merrill added. "Will you bring back my little girl?" He asked the retired Saa Thalarr.
"I'll bring her back, but she's not your little girl," Griffin replied.
"He's her surrogate sire," Wlodek interrupted haughtily. Merrill, however, was looking strangely at Griffin.
"What is going on?" he demanded.
"My punishment is lifted," Griffin offered his friend a sunny smile. "Lissa isn't your little girl. Has never been your little girl and won't ever truly be your little girl. Go ahead; ask me how I know this."
"All right, I concede. How do you know this?" Merrill stared at Griffin. The light went on suddenly, however. "I should have known," Merrill almost laughed with relief. "You know who her real father is, don't you?"
"Oh, yes," Griffin nodded. "I went looking for her mother, you know. She was a quarter Bright Elemaiya. As was I, before I was turned. Lissa's mine. And if any of you mistreat her again, you'll answer to me."
* * *
I was back in my bedroom in a matter of minutes, gathering up my cell phone and what little cash I had in my underwear drawer. I couldn't take Merrill's credit card; they'd track me that way. I was shaking harder, now; reaction was setting in from what I'd done. Wlodek would send his Enforcers and his Assassins after me and since Sebastian was dead, that left only Gavin and Trevor. They'd do their best to kill me if they found me; no way could they force me with compulsion to come back for a sentencing by the Council.
Franklin and Greg didn't know I'd come back and that was for the best, I think. I wouldn't be putting either one in jeopardy by letting them know what happened. I left Merrill's credit card on my bedside table, jerking Gavin's ring off my finger and leaving it there as well. He'd stepped over the line and I was so angry and hurt over that, I didn't know what to do. He'd been prepared to treat me that way, placing compulsion over everything. I'd never be able to choose my friends or who I spoke to or laughed with. I'd be jailed and brought out once in a while like the good silver, only to be put away immediately after, once my service was complete. I couldn't live like that. It was a lie, after all. Oh, I could pretend, but there would come a day when I wouldn't be able to stand it any longer and they'd find out anyway.
Less than ten minutes it took to mist into London, but I had no idea where to go or what to do. Everything except pubs and bars was closed. I materialized outside a pub near Whitehall, pulled out my cell phone and scrolled through the numbers. There was only one person I knew who might be able to help me and I was still angry with him, too. That left either Weldon or Winkler. I hit Winkler's number on speed dial. He picked up on the second ring.
"Lissa?" He sounded surprised to hear from me. I suppose he should be.
"Winkler, I'm having a bit of a problem," I said. "I just pissed off Wlodek, Gavin and Merrill and now I'm running away from home. If you don't want to get involved in this because it could become dangerous for you, then I'll understand."
"Lissa, whatever you need, it's yours," Winkler's voice was warm and caring and right then I might have given anything to have his arms to lean on. I was frightened out of my wits, to be honest.
"That's just it, I don't know what I need," I sniffed. I was about to cry and doing my best not to. "I have a little cash, but I had to leave my credit card behind; they'll track me. They may be able to do it anyway, if I have to show my ID or Passport."
"Hold on, let me get Weldon on the phone," Winkler said. I heard buttons being pushed. Weldon came on the line in seconds. Winkler explained what he knew so far.
"Lissa, Paul is in Paris with Tony Hancock's brother at the moment, otherwise I'd have him pick you up," Weldon sighed. "They still hold out hope that they can find who bombed Tony's hotel."
"Tony's hotel got bombed?" This was the first I'd heard of it.
"Lissa, Tony got killed—they say his body was destroyed, along with several others. That terrorist, Rahim Alif? He's taken responsibility."
My fingers had gone numb; I nearly dropped the phone and I felt so cold and so incredibly alone, right then, I wasn't sure I was still on the planet. "You didn't know?" Winkler figured it out after I'd gone silent. "Lissa, it happened six days ago, baby."
"Wh-where is Paul in Paris?" I definitely wanted to cry now and wiped tears off my face. Tony was dead? That couldn't be. It just couldn't.
"Lissa, I'll call him and have him call you, all right?" Weldon heard my sniffling, I'm sure.
"All right," I stifled a sob and hung up. I didn't have a thing with me to wipe away the tears, but a very nice woman who walked out of the pub gave me a handful of tissues and asked if I needed anything. I told her that I only needed the tissues, so she smiled and patted my shoulder before leaving with her date. There were still nice people in the world, after all; they didn't all want to blow up hotels that had people inside that I cared about.
Paul called me a few minutes later. He had a beautiful accent. "Lissa? The Grand Master tells me you might need my help."
"Honey, I hope we can help each other," I wiped my cheeks again. "I just need to get to you; I hope I can track down the ass**le that did this to Tony."
"Where are you, darlin'?" He knew I was crying.
"In front of a pub near Whitehall," I said, giving him the name.
"How about I have someone pick you up? I think I can get you to Paris tonight; I have friends at NSY. They can arrange something, I think."
Paul should have friends at New Scotland Yard; he'd helped crack the child murder case that was plaguing the U.K. recently. "Just hang tight," he added. "Someone will be there shortly. If not, I'll call you back."