Mob Rules (28 page)

“Perhaps I did. Very well. The piskie and her house are hereby pardoned. And I agree to your terms, Ms. Riley.”

“Done,” I said, and we shook hands to seal the pact.

 

King Oberon and his entourage returned to the mortal world through a gate I built on the dance floor of the Cannibal Club. The club's legal status was in limbo in the wake of its proprietor's disappearance. The law firm charged with handling the affair had been only too happy to sell the club to a blind holding company I'd set up for the king. Oberon had
provided me with enough gold to buy half of Hollywood—it seemed gold was the only physical substance that existed on all planes of existence, and the king had a lot of it.

I'm not much for ceremony, but I'd brought in a few cases of Cristal so we could properly toast the occasion. Rashan was there, and my big hitters. And Honey. King Oberon arrived with a small entourage of the sidhe aristocracy, including Sleepy and Fruity.

He also brought his queen, Titania. She looked like a teenager, innocent and pure, and so beautiful she made me feel like an ugly cow. She had long red curls and skin like milk and honey. She was wearing a white dress with silver accents that looked like it had come from one of the designer shops in Beverly Hills. The silk clung to her body, and the promise of budding womanhood was almost overpowering, even for me. Despite her youth and beauty, she had a regal elegance and an air of command that even Mrs. Dawson couldn't match.

We made the introductions and shared several toasts. Finally, King Oberon set his glass aside and walked over to my boss.

“Master Rashan,” he said, inclining his head, “there is one more matter to which we must attend.”

“And what is that, Your Highness? I should think you've gotten everything you might have hoped for, and more.” Rashan had supported my decision, but I had the idea he didn't like it much. I had the idea he didn't like the king much.

“Master, I took something from you. Something precious.” The king paused and stared deep into Rashan's pale gray eyes. “And I would like to give it back to you.” The king nodded to where Sleepy and Fruity stood in front of the gate, and they moved aside.

Adan Rashan stepped through the gate. He was just as I remembered him, in every detail. He was wearing a dark suit
and ivory shirt, just like the one I'd seen him in that first night in the club. He was exactly the same—his hair, his lovely eyes, the line of his jaw, the way he moved, the little dimples when he smiled.

It was Adan.

My boss made a small, inarticulate sound as he rushed to his son. He wept openly as he embraced him. The rest of the crowd moved away to give them some privacy, but I just stood there and stared.

As I watched them, I realized this Adan wasn't quite the same as the one I remembered, the one that had been a lie. This Adan had juice. When I looked at him, I saw the magic in him, strong and vibrant. It was the magic both of this world and the other one, the place they called Avalon. It was the same magic of two worlds that was in me.

Finally Rashan released him and led him away. Adan must have felt my stare, because he turned and looked back, and our eyes met. And he must have seen something in the way I looked at him, because he smiled at me, uncertain but warm. Then he turned away again, and took his father's arm, and left.

 

On the way home, I stopped at Miss American Pie and went into the restroom. Jamal was gone, but the words “JJ was here” were carved into the door of the stall, as if with a very sharp knife.

“Peace out, Jamal,” I said, and then I went out of there and into the restaurant. It smelled like apples and cinnamon, but that was just the fucking pizza.