“You did threaten to dissolve your last attorney.”
Winter kept digging in her large, pale denim hobo bag without looking up. The occasional soft chink of thick glass tapping glass rose from the wide opening, the sweet tones of steel striking steel. Something was loose down there. Wonderful. If this kept up, she’d have to go back to the purple bag. But to start, how could a stack of folders that thick go missing in here? There were two full surgical kits, not to mention the complete stock of medical potions, for heaven’s sake. “That’s not how I’d put it.” Her tone was light and casual with an edge of affection to it. Like so many in Seahaven, Winter had known Raphael her entire life, and like so many, he’d taken her under his wing and into his life. The powerful, refined vampire had never had a chance at intimidating toddler Winter as he did most everyone else — she’d simply walked around scary things — so he’d never bothered to try.
So first, Raphael taught little Winter to stand toe-to-toe against them and stare them down, so her avoidance couldn’t be mistaken for escape. Sometimes it was the only way out of a conflict alive. And sometimes it was a mistake. She remembered he’d spent a lot of energy teaching her the difference.
Raphael leaned back in his comfortable, black leather executive-style chair, one knee crossed easy over the other. “All right, what would you call it?”
A small smile twitched the corner of Winter’s mouth as she remembered the last time she’d laid eyes on her former lawyer, frantic and crying for help as the sickly yellow potion ate its smoking way through his desk and file cabinets. “I’d call it a promise. I don’t make threats, I’m not strong enough to bluff, and Donovan knows all that. He’s too skilled a Shark King, too a shrewd politician, and too wicked an attorney to not have picked that up by now. He was the Mulcahy representative for years. Now he knows where the line has been drawn, and what the penalty for crossing that line is.”
Raphael caught up two crystal old fashioneds as he dropped his feet to the carpeted floor and poured a finger of whiskey neat. Winter looked at it with longing for a moment, knowing how good the heavy glass would feel in her hand — whiskey and pregnancy didn’t mix, just keep repeating that — before pulling the thick folders of bound paper feathered by touch, wrapped in time-beaten manila, from the depths of her bag and setting down the bundle held together with little more than sagging string and habit. “I’m pretty sure I’ve got everything. Grandpa Dermot went over it not long ago. Deeds to every property in Seahaven dating all the way back to the homesteading papers.”
Raphael chuckled as he eyed the squat, fragile tower, the life of a family gone and now preserved only in paper. One match and even the outline of their lives would be gone forever. “I’ve seen this before. Your family has one of the most complete sets of records of any I’ve yet seen. Beautiful, though I’m not sure Dermot mastered the alphabet.” He leaned in and breathed in a taste of the package and nodded once. “Just a touch of mold. Some of these documents are quite fragile. Would you like us to take care of them properly for you? One of my Nathaniel’s preservation interns is proving to be very talented with restoration, indeed.”
Winter nodded. “That would be wonderful. I’d like to give the collection’s original caretaker a good smack for making this mess. But, to be honest, it’s amazing we have any records at all, between one thing and another.”
Raphael tapped the top cover of the overstuffed wad of files, the information typed into the cover with an imperfect line and a casual attitude toward spelling. “I’ll have this moved to my personal vault and turn my apprentices loose on it. By the time they’re done, it will be organized, alphabetized, preserved for generations.”
Winter sat up just a little higher, hope taking over her face. “So, it’s a yes? Oh, thank you! Thank you so much! I didn’t know where else to turn, and you’re so terribly busy.”
Raphael took a sip of his whiskey and bestowed on Winter a rare, unadorned smile. “How could I say ‘No?’ Besides, it gives me more chances to check in on you.”
That made Winter’s brows rise. “How did I rate the special treatment?”
Raphael glanced down at her growing belly. “We have unknown quantities in the city, now, and those quantities have already proven to be both reckless and powerful. No few of my employers have taken notice. So far, that’s all it is. I’m going to work to keep it that way.”
Winter’s heart sped and a bitter taste flooded her mouth. “How much attention are we talking about?”
Rafael met her gaze with a level one of his own. “Keep your heads down and limit the theatrics. I will try to contain the damage that has already been done.”
“Limiting theatrics. In Seahaven. I’ll get right on that.”
Raphael held her at arms’ reach. “It’s adulting time for everyone, now. You can do this.”
Winter stood and gave Raphael a tight hug. “Don’t risk yourself just for us. Mulcahys are wily.”
“Not to mention nuttier than fruit bats.”
Winter brought out a look of affronted shock.
Raphael managed to hold back a snort and instead produce such a convincing expression of violated innocence couched in wickedness that Winter had to remember what family the Bellini’s were most closely related to.
The Medici.
“Was that aloud?”
Winter snorted in a less than delicate way, the sting of which was not lessened by Raphael’s triumphant grin.
This was a private thing between them. For some reason, over the years the other city leaders and every single adult Mulcahy thought Raphael, Senior Servant of the Eldest, wasn’t nearly busy enough, so here, have a preschooler, oh Renaissance attorney who’d never married or had children. And Winter had just hit the Age of Learning Humor. Winter had asked him about it, once. It took a lot to make his left brow twitch like that.
So, Raphael did the only thing he could do in self-defense. He’d educated Winter like a Medici.
And in exchange he had unfettered access to the Mulcahy Library, the largest privately owned magical collection in the known world, as did his assistant Dmitri and his consort and talented archivist, the brilliant Nathaniel.
The queue to have Nathaniel and his crew come and do a full preservation on a moderately-sized collection stretched out into the next century. Immortals tended to be big readers.
Winter watched Raphael carefully tuck the ragged folder away. “Good thing this year’s lot of students are a bunch of overachievers. I like overachievers. Keeps Dmitri on his toes.”
Winter flashed a polite smile. “When you say interest, how much of an interest are we talking about? Is this from the Servants?”
Raphael grimaced. “I can’t tell you that. I can urge you again to keep your heads down. All of you. Eventually, this will be forgotten, but only as long as it’s allowed to be.”
Winter nodded, slow and deliberate. It was about Alerich. It had to be. Etienne and Cian were both very good at concealment and anyone else would have attracted the attention of the Servants long before now.
Alerich Ashimar, on the other hand, with his rock star confidence and brilliance, was hard to miss. And when he messed up, he did it with flair.
Winter squeezed Raphael’s hand. “I can do this. I can keep them safe.”
The vampire was gentle to her fingers. “Do it together. It will take all of you. Life isn’t going to be fair to you.”
Winter’s smile turned arid. “No surprises there.”
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