Page 85 of Magical Midlife Conclave

“Sebastian.”

I half stopped and grabbed his arm.

He nodded at me. “One of Armendale’s people.”

“It was bound to happen. And someone wants to challenge me, I presume.”

“Yes, but not a shifter.”

“What, a gargoyle wants to tango with me?”

“No.”

“Then who…” Cold ran through my body.

His expression was grim. “The Elder. You intrigued her. I guess, after you got the basajaunak active, she took a post by the bar door. They travel fast, as you know. No one tried to shoo her away. She heard a lot of what you were saying to Armendale.”

“And so she’s challenging me?”

“Yes. Dave said that’s a good thing.”

“I fail to see how.”

“Me either, but here we are. She has asked for the challenge to happen tomorrow when you’re free. And for it to take place in a specific clearing in the woods.”

“Anything else? How about I go blindfolded, too? Maybe with my hands tied, would that be to her liking?”

“You don’t have to accept.”

“Austin won’t want me to.”

“And you’ll do it anyway.”

I rubbed my face. “Obviously. Hopefully, I don’t get drop-kicked.”

He grimaced as we got to the far corner of the field. This had the most spectators. Clearly, it was the people high in power who needed more help being separated.

“Please tell me that’s all,” I said.

“And…a few for Austin, but only one today. It’s an important one. It’ll set the tone. He doesn’t need your help, though. Aljoe and Sue can handle it.”

“Here, Jessie. Over here.” Niamh waved at me from the edge of the sectioned off area. “Would ye move, ya lummox ya!” she yelled at someone.

A disgruntled shifter pushed back from the line.

“Now. Here.” Niamh put her hand on the back of a fold-out chair, one of only two I’d seen as I made my way to this corner of the field. She sat in the other one. A cooler rested between them.

“A mimosa wouldn’t go amiss,” I said.

Not professional, no, but who was I to judge what had worked for Niamh for four hundred and some-odd years?

“Ah sure, ye might as well.” She dug into her cooler.

Two wolves charged each other.

“Now.” Niamh produced a red plastic cup. “The lower-calorie option.”

“I don’t need…” It was straight champagne. “Ah.”