Unhappily Ever After

Chapter 16 - The Council of 1991

Early update?! What witchcraft is this? Well, see, I worked out that there are a lot more hours in the day when you spend less time watching Office. Crazy, right?

It wasn't long before my own peace and quiet was interrupted by the smell of shifters approaching. I waited a few minutes for them to get close before climbing to the parapet. Someone was standing just beyond the gates, hands in their pockets, absolutely resolute not to cross the threshold. Tawny hair, slim-built, tanned and scar-pocked. My sister's choice of bedmate. Mort trailed behind him.

"Oi, Llewellyn," Lee hollered, his voice bleeding anxiety. "You in there?"

I stuck my head over the parapets properly and whistled.

His head whipped upwards. A moment later, he massaged the back of his neck and cursed. Ouch. I braced my forearms on the rough stones, smiled lazily and waited for an explanation. Mort tried and failed to hide a smirk.

Through a grimace, Lee began to recite his message. "Vik's here - thought you should know. He wants a word. Y'know, seeing as you've napped his future sister-in-law. Tom told the grumpy-old-man-boss-guy what happened: he's on his way over. And I don't reckon Ian is leaking anymore, because if you listen real hard you can hear him complaining from here."

I felt my eyes widening to the point of discomfort. Lee, who worked for Dafydd and with Vik, had chosen to warn me about their arrivals, and that meant something. He should have kept his mouth shut - and he struck me as a loyal person, which made this even more odd - so what were the motives? Was this for Eira, or had I inadvertently bought his allegiance today?

"It's been half an hour, Lee," I sighed. "I thought kidnapping the Luna would be the hard part."

His grimace softened into a smile. "We'll manage."

We? Pleased, I shifted my weight and felt stone scrape against bare skin.

"Yes, we will," I agreed quietly. "Bring them all over here, would you? I'll throw a convention or something. And Mort - how are you? Any crises?"

"No. Tom made me light the popcorn cans. I didn't even get to bloody kill anyone." He wrinkled up his nose, suddenly pausing. "Are you the dude from the bridge?"

Are you the dude I wanted to kill for being a Llewellyn? That was the real question. He clearly felt it was too awkward to voice, but I heard it all the same.

"Yep," I said, popping the 'p.'

"Oh," Mort muttered.

With every passing second, a scowl was deepening on his face, so I pointed out, "I owe you a lesson, don't I? How about now? It would have to be quick... Or tomorrow?"

The boy hesitated as he tried to decide if agreeing would injure his pride, and Lee coughed an interruption. "So you want me to bring everyone who's mad at you into curseland for a chat?"

"Yeah, Lee. I do. There ain't nothing to worry about, y'know. The curse only sticks if you sleep in the place."

Lying? No - I preferred to think of it as expressing an incorrect opinion.

"Really?" Lee asked with no small amount of suspicion. Even Mortimer was looking sceptical now.

"Really," I insisted. "My great-grandfather died here, man. I think I know what I'm talking about."

He folded his arms. "An hour ago, you didn't know what the curse was supposed to do. Yesterday you didn't even know it existed. Now I'm supposed to believe you're an expert on the subject?"

I thought for a moment.

"Yes," I said flatly.

***