"Honey, maybe we should do something as a memorial. What do people normally do when someone dies here?"
"Not much—just a simple service. They no longer bury the dead; they are cremated."
"Where I come from they sing, and someone, perhaps several people, talk about the person's life," I said. "And they place flowers as a memorial."
"They place flowers?"
"They do."
"There is a flower market, not far away." Gabron rose from his seat. "Will you take me there, little Queen?" He went to a table nearby, opening a drawer. "We seldom use coinage now, but it is still good, and accepted," he said, pulling a heavy bag from a drawer. "Get me inside the flower shop, Lissa."
We went to the flower shop, Gabron guiding me with mindspeech, and we misted right through the door. Gabron indicated the flowers he wanted, and we ended up with half the shop, I think. I allowed the bag of money to drop onto the counter; it didn't even set off the alarm as we misted away. The streets were deserted in front of Blue Desirewhen we landed and materialized; Gabron and I placed the flowers, scattering them around the doorway.
"Should we write something?" I asked. There was a wide expanse of sidewalk in front of the business.
"What do you suggest?" Gabron asked.
"Here," I said, pulling out a claw and scraping a message on the sidewalk.
"I like this," Gabron said when I finished. The quote was off the cuff but heartfelt all the same—I will hold your name in my heart as I strike down your enemies, I'd written. I reached down, pulled one of the blossoms off a bouquet, and handed it to Gabron, giving him a kiss. "Come on, honey," I said, and misted both of us away.
Chapter 10
"I don't suppose you know anything about that?" Karzac pointed at the video screen, where a news crew had recorded images of the flowers and the message I'd scratched into the pavement.
"It was a moment of weakness. It won't happen again," I promised.
"Probably for the best," Karzac nodded and went to find something for dinner. "Need to make a trip to the market," he grumbled, looking inside the fridge.
"If you'll write out a list, I'll get it on my way home tonight," I offered. Karzac seemed quite happy with that suggestion and went to find a pen and paper.
* * *
"Please don't let any more Ra'Ak in the door tonight," Dragon said, reminding me to lock the door behind him when he left.
"Will do, boss," I agreed, locking and bolting the door after he left. The dojo was a mess; dirty towels were all over the locker room so I ran those through the washer and dryer while I cleaned everything else. Kifirin appeared as I was finishing up. It seems he was planning on coming to the market with me afterward, so I took a quick shower before we left.
"I like these," he pulled a package of cookies off a shelf.
"Are we buying for you?" I asked, grabbing the box of cereal that Karzac asked for.
"I could hope so," he smiled beautifully.
"All right," I took the cookies from him and tossed them into the cart. Several women were inside the store even though it was late, and they were all staring at Kifirin. He didn't dress like the locals at all—he had on dark pants in a raw silk, with a white knit shirt that had an open collar. For shoes, he wore black leather boots. He wasn't far off from Earth fashion, to be honest. And he looked really good, of course, on top of that. His smile alone could cause most females and a few males to experience orgasms and lose consciousness, I think.
Several other Kifirin-related items went into the basket and he helped me carry it all back to the apartment after we paid, shocking the hell out of Dragon and Karzac as he waltzed right in and helped me put everything away.
"Uh, Dragon, Karzac, this is Kifirin," I introduced him.
"Saa Thalarr," he nodded at Dragon. "Healer." He took Karzac's hand and shook. "Have no fear; your secrets will remain safe. My silence will protect Lissa as much as it will protect you."
Dragon wore an inscrutable look on his face as he nodded slightly to Kifirin. "Now, if you will excuse us," Kifirin took my hand and folded us away.
"Hey, I didn't see you take those," he held the cookie package in his hands and was munching away. He laughed at me and offered me a bite.
"You know I can't eat it," I grumbled. He hugged me instead, one hand draped around my shoulders, the other shoving the rest of a cookie in his mouth.
* * *
"I have learned my lesson," René lied casually. He and Bartholomew sat at a table in an upscale London restaurant. Few knew that Bartholomew still lived and René was one of those few. He just hadn't bothered to inform anyone before of this fact. He'd sent a text message to Gavin, however, when Bartholomew agreed to meet him for a drink at the usual place.
"So, Xenides has nothing to fear?" Bartholomew secretly thought it laughable that René imagined he might take Xenides down to begin with.
"Yes. I have no desire to end up like my dear, sweet child."
"Aubrey was never a good turn to begin with," Bartholomew snorted softly. René schooled his expression so that Bartholomew wouldn't know the contempt in his soul for the black-hearted bastard. Bartholomew's heart was as evil as Xenides', but he lacked Xenides' creativity and focus. René had done some thieving for Bartholomew in the past; the reward at the time had been too great to refuse. Now René knew that those excursions on the wrong side of the law had been funded by Xenides and possibly by Saxom himself. Gavin had given important information after René had taken Devlin home a few nights earlier. René had called him and they'd had a lengthy chat.
"Aubrey's death has certainly curtailed further thoughts of revenge," René offered smoothly. "I hope this hasn't damaged our business relationship. I would still like to work with you in the future. It has definitely proven lucrative in the past."
"Of course not, René. Your talents in that area are most formidable," Bartholomew smiled and sipped his wine.
They talked for perhaps another half hour before Bartholomew rose to leave. "Don't worry about it, I'll get this," René sipped his wine and waved off Bartholomew's offer to pay. "Don't forget to contact me, my friend, for future business."
"I knew you'd see things my way," Bartholomew said before leaving the table. He pulled out his cell as he was about to exit the restaurant, hitting a number on speed dial. It was answered quickly.