"That was before the Council meeting tonight, René." Gavin's voice was clipped.
"What news do you have, then?" René was suddenly all business.
"The one who killed Aurelius was executed tonight. He claimed that Aurelius was lured in with the news that one of his children became injured by walking into the sun." Gavin waited patiently for René to stop cursing in French.
* * *
Gavin hadn't returned when I awoke the evening of March ninth. Greg and Franklin were dressed to go out and were only waiting for me to rise for the evening. Merrill had business to attend to, so Franklin asked if I wanted to go out with him and Greg.
"I don't want to hold you guys back," I said.
"You think you're going to hold two old geezers back?" Greg teased. Franklin was sixty-two; Greg was sixty-three. Of course, Merrill was probably two thousand or more, but who was counting?
"What should I wear?" I asked. I'd dressed in jeans and a sweater and wore one of my new berets. It and the sweater were cream in color.
"Just put shoes on," Greg said, pointing to my sock-covered feet.
I went to get shoes. I hadn't had an opportunity to go to London in well, forever, and the prospect of an evening out was certainly appealing. Franklin drove us to a restaurant first, where he and Greg ate a nice meal and I had a salad and a glass of wine. The waiter, who was family as Greg put it, tried to get me to eat more. I'm sure he thought I'd been ill—he'd noticed my baldness but was discretion itself over it. At least my fingers were longer now and not so noticeable as stubs, so it wasn’t horrible to hold a fork. I let the waiter know I was fine and left a nice tip when we finished.
We went to do a little shopping after that and I bought a dozen pairs of earrings at a department store. Greg and Franklin helped me make my selections and Frank paid with Merrill's card. Merrill still hadn't given me any money or credit cards but I did have my ID back. I also had a few pounds with me from my sock drawer, but it wasn't enough to pay for jewelry. I put a pair of earrings in my ears when we got back to the car. I know you're supposed to clean your earrings before wearing them but I was vampire and not susceptible to human diseases. The sun, though? Enough about that.
What shocked me was where Franklin drove us next; Greg and Franklin took me to a bar. Not just any bar—a g*y bar. I think I was the only woman inside the place and I had to give my ID at the door. The man checking IDs was in drag, looked pretty darn good and asked what happened to my hair. I just told him I had the Sinead O'Connor thing going and he laughed and let me in.
"When's the last time you were in a bar?" Greg asked as we settled around a small table in a corner.
"I think I was in Sacramento, California," I said. "The person I was with wanted to do Karaoke."
"Funny you should mention that," Franklin said. "That's why Greg wanted to come here. He likes to sing."
Really?" I was interested, now. "What do you like to do?"
"All kinds of things. I wish I could do Barbra but I don't have the voice for it," Greg said.
"My favorite is Memory and he can't do that, either," Franklin said.
"If they let girls sing, I'd do it for you," I offered. "It's one of my favorites, too."
"We'll see if we can fix that," Greg said. We waited until they set everything up. This bar had a piano, which the one in Sacramento didn't have. Greg signed both of us up, but there were several ahead of us. Some were good, some not. I could see that they had some regulars there.
Greg did Embraceable You and he had a low, mellow voice that fit the song perfectly. I would have played the piano without the canned music when my turn came, but my fingers weren't whole, yet. Singing Karaoke was fun and I hadn't had fun in a while. The whole place was standing and clapping when I finished and came off the stage. Franklin hugged me when I made my way back to the table. We stayed for two hours and Greg sang again. He and several others tried to get me to sing something else but I told them I wasn't up to it.
"You looked awful hard at that piano," Franklin said once we were inside Merrill's Cadillac and on our way home.
"My fingers aren't healed up," I said. "Otherwise I would have played." He nodded silently at my explanation and drove away from London.
Merrill was there when we arrived and he surprised me by handing my laptop over. "You may have this but under no circumstances may you tell anyone what happened since your return," he said. I wondered what his reaction would be if I saluted him or something.
There were probably fifty emails from Winkler, quite a few from Tony and several more from Weldon. I sat at the kitchen island, plugged in the power source for my laptop (the battery was drained) and went through all my mail. Winkler sounded desperate. A wedding was in the works for him and Kellee, since she was pregnant and daddy was rushing things. Love (or in this case, sex) truly was blind. Honestly, Kellee might have more in common with a garden slug than she did with Winkler.
Winkler, stop hyperventilating, I wrote back. I wanted to tell him he'd gotten himself into this mess but I didn't. He was also asking why I hadn't answered his zillion emails, so I told him I'd been busy. Get Whitney to help, I suggested—she'd be good with wedding crap, I just knew it. If it were me, I might consider tossing Kellee through a wall. After she had the baby, of course.
I turned to Weldon's messages then. He thanked me for what I'd done for him, carefully skirting what happened before I'd been taken away. The tour was finished finally and he was happy about that. He said Rhett and Dalroy had done a good job but didn't have a sense of humor. I figured it was because they were a bit uncomfortable working with werewolves. I'd gotten a few smiles from Rhett and Dalroy the short time I'd been with them. Of course, I didn't point that out to Weldon. Instead, I wrote back and told the Grand Master to relax and enjoy some time with his part-time lady. I had no idea if or when I'd see him again but at least we could talk to each other through email.
Tony's emails came next. He should learn to be more circumspect and I told him that. He was the one concerned for my welfare, asking if I was all right. Well, he'd witnessed part of my verbal drubbing at a warehouse in Santa Fe, so it was no wonder he asked how I was. I told him I was fine and that he should reconsider buying crackers or wash his sheets more often if he was still having problems with crumbs in his bed. That was a joke between us now. I didn't offer my new phone number and wondered if he'd track me down anyway.
There was one last email, from Charles. I opened it, feeling a little weird.