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Tonight we’ve been summoned to Order HQ. Well, technically the event is off sight at some swanky hotel, but attendance – and a dinner jacket – is mandatory. Thankfully it’s been over a week since Devon came off his bike and totalled it. Lucky for him, he walked away with just a few bumps and bruises, and most of them are healing well, which means there’s no excuse for him to miss the meeting.
Which was our first problem. We couldn’t all go and leave Callie. It’s miles away from where we live, so we had to travel down and stay in a hotel for the night. I’m not about to let Callie stay at home on her own while we’re at a party, and because it’s an Order event, she can’t come with us. Tex nominated himself to stay behind and look after her, which would have been fine and might have gone unnoticed if it weren’t for orders coming in this morning for the three of us to meet with the new head of the organisation before the event begins.
We can’t all go, and I don’t know how we’re going to explain ourselves.
“Just say he got food poisoning or something.” Devon shrugs dismissively, helping himself to a glass of champagne while we mingle.
Truth be told, we’ve never attended any Order events before now, but we didn’t really have a choice for this one. A new leader being sworn in is kind of a huge deal. It’s certainly never happened in my lifetime within The Order, and I’ve been in for nearly a decade now.
We stick together, sipping our drinks and saying hello to the people we recognise, and accepting nods of respect from those we don’t. It’s nice to see more younger people than old. We’d heard rumours of what had happened at the last initiation party, the bomb and old Knox’s double cross and vanishing act so, it’s hardly strange to see a lot of the old guys banished from the event.
There have been whispers that a big shake up is coming – more than just the first big shock of the evening: there’s a lot of new faces here tonight, and some of them are female.
With the exception of one woman who I recognise as being the ex-wife of a founding family member, the other females are all standing together, huddled in a corner. A lot of angry looks are being thrown their way, which I don’t understand. I never understood why The Order was run like some old gentleman’s club. I think that women have many skills that they can bring to the table, probably more than guys, and it’s about time they were invited to join. I notice that there’s quite a few looks of interest and appreciation being shot their way, too.
We mill around waiting to be called to our meeting. The new boss wants a debrief on our latest missions, and I’m nervous because we have very little to report.
Torturing that traitor Sebastian for information was easy, searching for Harold Knox has not been.
And I don’t think the new boss is going to like what we have to tell her one bit.
* * *
“Is this some sort of joke?” I jump a little when the head of The Order enters the room we’ve been shown into. We’ve been waiting a little over half an hour for her and I note the frown on her face when she spies us.
“Sorry, boss?” I ask, unsure what the joke might be. We have an appointment, she was the one who set it up. Yet somehow, she’s standing before us in a sleek evening gown looking pissed.
So this is her. The new leader of our organisation. The first ever female. The first surviving double blood heir.
The rumours have been rife. She’s something of a unicorn.
Small but fierce, curvy, beautiful. She looks to have Italian heritage, but speaks with an Australian twang. And she’s young.
She looks like she might be around Callie and Tex’s age, yet the authority rolls off her in waves.
“I was expecting three of you. You are the three musketeers, no?”
Devon snorts derisively and her eyes cut to him and immediately narrow, unimpressed. He’s wearing a DJ like me, but no bow tie, and his buttons are open to reveal his T-shirt underneath. The thing that has her looking mighty pissed off though is Devon’s black biker boots, which he currently has up on the table.
“People have died for less,” she snaps, glaring at him until he removes his feet. I believe her too.
“Where’s the third?”
“We had a personal situation,” I offer, apologetically. “Sorry, we weren’t all able to make it.”
“That is not my problem. When I arrange a meeting with you, I expect all three of you to be in attendance. You’ve wasted my time.”
She moves as if she’s going to leave but she halts when Devon calls out angrily, “Are you telling me you wouldn’t skip some stuck up party if one of your family was in trouble?”
“Is the third in trouble?” she asks after a beat. It takes me a moment to realise she means Tex. This would be so much easier if she knew our names.
“Let’s make proper introductions,” I say, smiling warmly. “I’m East, this is Devon.”
“Amelie. And the absent guy?”
“Is Tex. We are sorry he couldn’t be here but it was a family emergency.”
“Tell me about this emergency,” she surprises me by saying, and taking a seat. Devon does a double take too.
