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Three...
He traced the club's roofline with his eyes and imagined what the rubble was going to look like, not just around the club, but with what he was leaving behind in people's lives as he went up north.
Two...
Rehv's heart hurt like a bitch, and he knew it was because he was mourning Ehlena. Even though technically he was the one who was dying.
One...
The explosion that ignited under the main dance floor triggered two others, one under the VIP bar and one on the mezzanine's balcony. With a tremendous thunder and a bracing quake, the building was rocked to its core, a blast of brick and vaporized cement rushing outward.
Rehvenge staggered back and banged into the glass front of a tattoo parlor. After he caught his breath, he watched the fine mist of dust drift downward like snow.
Rome had fallen. And yet it was hard to leave.
The first of the sirens rang out no more than five minutes later, and he waited for the splashes of red flashers to come down Trade Street at a dead run.
When they did, he closed his eyes, calmed himself...and dematerialized up north.
To the colony.
Chapter FIFTY-SEVEN
Ehlena?" Lusie's voice came down the stairs. "I'm going to head out now."
Ehlena shook herself and glanced at the time in the lower corner of the laptop screen. It was four thirty? Already? God, it felt like...well, she didn't know whether she'd been sitting at her makeshift desk for hours or days. The Caldwell Courier Journal's help-wanted site had been up the whole time, but all she'd been doing was making circles with her forefinger on the mouse pad.
"Here I come." She stretched as she rose to her feet and headed for the stairs. "Thanks for cleaning up after Father's meal."
Lusie's head appeared at the top of the stairs. "You're welcome, and listen, there's someone here to see you."
Ehlena's heart flip-flopped in her chest. "Who?"
"A male. I let him in."
"Oh, God," Ehlena said under her breath. As she jogged up from the cellar, she thought, at least her father was sleeping soundly after he'd eaten. Last thing she needed to deal with right now was him getting upset over a stranger in the house.
As she came into the kitchen, she was prepared to tell Rehv or Trez or whoever it was to go to-
A blond male with a very rich vibe stood by the cheap table, a black briefcase in his hand. Lusie was next to him, pulling on her woolen coat and getting her patchwork satchel ready for her trip home.
"May I help you?" Ehlena said with a frown.
The male did a little bow thing, with his palm going gallantly to his chest, and when he spoke, his voice was unusually low and very cultured. "I'm looking for Alyne, blooded son of Uys. Are you his daughter?"
"Yes, I am."
"May I see him?"
"He's resting. What's this about, and who are you?"
The male glanced over at Lusie, then put his hand into his breast pocket and took out an ID in the Old Language. "I'm Saxton, son of Tyhm, an attorney hired by the estate of Montrag, son of Rehm. He's recently passed unto the Fade with no direct heirs, and according to my research of the bloodlines, your father is his next of kin and therefore his sole beneficiary."
Ehlena's brows shot up. "Excuse me?" When he repeated what he'd said, it still didn't sink in. "I...ah...what?"
As the lawyer took another shot at his message, her mind scrambled around, trying to connect the dots. Rehm was definitely a name she was familiar with. She'd seen it in her father's business records...and in his manuscript. Not a nice guy. Not by a long shot. She had some vague memory of the son, but it was nothing specific, just a leftover from her days as a female of worth on the glymera debutante circuit.
"I'm sorry," she murmured, "but this is a surprise."
"I understand. May I speak with your father?"
"He's not...receiving, actually. He's not well. I'm his legal guardian." She cleared her throat. "Under the Old Law, I had to have him declared incompetent due to...mental issues."
Saxton, son of Thym, bowed a little. "I am sorry to hear that. May I ask, would you be able to present me with bloodline identification for you both? And the declaration of incompetence?"
"I have it all downstairs." She looked at Lusie. "I guess you need to go?"
Lusie glanced at Saxton and seemed to reach the same conclusion Ehlena did. The male seemed perfectly normal, and in his suit and coat and with that case in his hand, he positively screamed lawyer. His ID was legit, too.
"I can stay if you'd rather," Lusie said.
"No, I'll be fine, and besides, it's getting close to dawn."
"All right, then."
Ehlena walked Lusie out and then came back to the lawyer. "Will you excuse me a minute?"
"Take your time."
"Would you...ah, like something to drink? Coffee?" She hoped he said no, as the best she could offer him was a mug, and he looked like the kind of guy who was more familiar with Limoges teacups.
"I'm fine, but thank you." His smile was genuine and not sexual in the slightest. Then again, no doubt he only went for the kind of aristocratic female she might have been if finances were different.
Finances...and other things.
"I'll be right back. Please have a seat." Although those precision-pressed slacks of his might well rebel if he tried to take a load off on one of their grotty little chairs.
Down in her room, she went under her bed and got her lockbox out. Carrying it upstairs, she was numb, just totally fried from the drama that had been dropping around her life like flaming airplanes falling from the sky. Christ, the fact that a lawyer had turned up on her doorstop looking for lost heirs seemed...ho-hum. Whatever. And she wasn't getting her hopes up at all. With the way things had been going, this "golden opportunity" was going to go in the direction everything else had lately.
Right into the shitter.
Back upstairs, she put the lockbox on the table. "I've got everything in here."
When she sat down, Saxton did as well, putting his briefcase on the pitted floor and focusing his gray eyes on the box. After putting in the combination, she flipped open the heavy top and took out a creamy business-size envelope and three rolled parchments, each of which had streaming satin ribbons flowing from their coiled insides.
"This is the incompetency paper," she said, opening the envelope and taking out a document.
After he looked the missive over and nodded, she unveiled her father's bloodline certificate, that illustrated a family tree in lovely, flowing black ink. At the bottom, the ribbons in yellow and powder blue and deep red were affixed with a black wax seal bearing the crest of her father's father's father.
Saxton got his briefcase, flipped it open, and took out a set of jeweler's glasses, sliding their weight onto his face and peering over every inch of the parchment.
"This is authentic," he pronounced. "The others?"
"My mother and myself." She unrolled each one and he did the same inspection.
When he was finished, he sat back in the chair and removed the specs. "May I look over the incompetency papers again?"
She passed them to him and he read, a frown tightening the space between his perfectly arched brows. "What is the precise medical situation with your father, if you don't mind my asking?"
"He suffers from schizophrenia. He's very ill and needs round-the-clock care, to be honest."
Saxton's eyes traveled slowly around the kitchen, noting the stain on the floor and the aluminum foil over the windows and the old, on-their-last-legs appliances. "Are you employed?"
Ehlena stiffened. "I don't see why that's relevant."
"Sorry. You're absolutely correct. It's just..." He opened his briefcase again and took out a fifty-page bound document and a spreadsheet. "Once I certify you and your father as Montrag's next of kin-and based on those parchments I'm prepared to do that-you're never going to have to worry about money again."
He turned the document and the legal-size spreadsheet toward her and took a gold pen out of his breast pocket. "Your net worth is now substantial."
With the nib of his pen, Saxton pointed to the final number in the lower right-hand corner of the sheet.
Ehlena glanced down. Blinked.
Then bent all the way over the table, until her eyes were no more than three inches away from the pen tip and the paper and...that number.
"Is that...How many digits am I looking at?" she whispered.
