Gift (Enchanted Ardor #2)

Chapter Two

Nick Klaus reached for his coffee, suppressing a sigh as he sipped the black brew. He’d lost track of the meeting’s thread, somewhere in the jumble of policy and red tape.

As a representative of the council, he was obligated to attend the yearly ‘State of the World’ summit to decide on directions before the calendar rolled over.

Not much ever really changed. Not really.

At least I didn’t have to travel to some place scorching hot this time.

The previous year’s summit had been in sweltering Sydney, Australia.

Ottawa, Canada was much more comfortable.

And since he’d apparently be somewhere suitable for formal wear, his crew had decided he needed to attend a party. So, they set him up with an invitation and even a new suit.

I hate parties.

But they were serious about it, since they got him a nice one. Not red with white ermine trim like they did one year. He had checked this time, before leaving.

He sipped more of his coffee, glaring at the mediator, willing him to cut the rambling and get to the damned point.

They all knew the world was in a shitty state and that it was up to all of them to balance things through their missions.

He snorted, then drained his cup.

Nick wasn’t sure it was possible. He’d been at it for over a thousand years now and not much had changed.

The speaker paused. “You disagree, Klaus?”

“People don’t change. We all know this.”

“It’s not about us changing people. It’s about us guiding them toward something better.”

Nick lifted a brow. “There’s a difference?”

Martin leveled his gaze on him. “Our work used to be meaningful. If we don’t believe in what we do, how can we expect them to?”

“I’ve been telling you all for centuries, I’m not the guy for this. I’m doing it, but it isn’t my calling. It was delegated to me as penance.”

“Which until you find true redemption in your heart, your penance will not be fulfilled.” Martin nodded.

“And I’m not a believer in the church like my predecessor was, and never will be.”

“This isn’t about institutions.” Martin clasped his hands.

“If no one believes anymore, then this position is pointless.” Nick set his cup on the boardroom table.

“It’s never pointless. Hope is all that many have.” Martin insisted.

Nick shrugged. “Find someone who believes, as you say. Let me retire back into humanity, or do whatever comes next. If I haven’t achieved true redemption by now, it’s not going to happen. This isn’t fair to my crew. I’m not a damned saint, regardless of the title.”

Martin spread his hands. “It’s not up to me. Besides, you signed the contract. You agreed to do the job when you saw how many orphans you and your men left in your wake. Raids are costly.”

“Back in the days before escape clauses.” Nick muttered. “Who knew I’d be trying to atone for my crimes for so long? And you know it was a retaliatory raid.”

Martin shrugged and quickly held up a hand. “Orphans both sides of the conflict. And yes, I know you regret that. But if you haven’t fulfilled your contract yet, then you’re still missing something, Nick. Something that Ayo set out in the terms before he passed on the mantle.”

“Well, whatever the fuck it is, it’s pretty damned obscure. Are we about done here? It’s the same shit every year. Unless you have something new to tell us?”

“I have nothing more to this summit, but we are waiting for our guest speaker to arrive from her day job.” Martin glanced at his watch. “Ms. O’Clery should be here any moment.”

Several of the other attendees shifted on their seats.

“We haven’t had a guest speaker in decades. This must be serious.”

“Not since the great wars.”

Nick sat up on his chair when a tall blonde woman with unusually bright green eyes entered the room, shaking snow from her tailored wool coat. “My apologies, I had a late customer that needed a special blend.”

“Blend?” Nick lifted a brow.

“Tea.” Ms. O’Clery smiled. Her gaze held his a fraction longer than one would expect of a stranger. “You’re coming to my party tomorrow night.”

Nick blinked. “I have an invitation to a party. I don’t know who the host is.”

Her grin widened in a way that Nick wasn’t so sure he was comfortable with.

“Perfect. You’re perfect.” She mumbled, then looked to the rest of the group. “I’m Quinn O’Clery, one of the Fates.”

A distinct tingle rolled up Nick’s nape as the others murmured between themselves.

One of the Fates? This is new. Interesting.

But he wasn’t so sure he liked how her curious gaze kept sliding back to him. And not in a ‘hey you wanna hook up after this meeting’ kind of eye lock.

“I won’t keep you long. I’m just here to give you all a heads-up from one of my sisters.” She drew a breath, choosing her words. “You may or may not be aware that we are leaning in to the Ascension, and we’re at a delicate tipping point between those driving the negative and positive forces.”

Ascension?

“Like, a battle of light and dark is coming? What do you need from us? It’s been a minute, but I haven’t forgotten how to wield a hammer or an ax.” Nick said.

Martin grunted. “We’re not going into battle, Nick. That’s not what we do.”

“The hell it isn’t. What I’m supposed to be doing clearly isn’t doing a damned thing. I’m better suited for the battlefield. To fight for justice. Not be some shiny-eyed beacon of hope.”

Ms. O’Clery turned to Nick. “My sister is working on the front lines to maintain the balance. Our job is to stay the course on the home front. It matters.”

“Right. You need someone full of sunshine and rainbows to keep this up.”

George turned to Nick. “Come on, Nick. In this day and age, you’re the lead saint. Help the rest of us out here. Not everyone has become as jaded and cynical as you have, and we’re still doing what we can to fulfill our own contracts. Some of us want to retire as much as you do, but we need to work together on this. And if what she says is true, then we need to step up.”

Nick didn’t respond to his colleague as a pang of guilt struck him. Everyone thought the poor guy was a giant fucking rabbit that shit out colorful eggs every year. So as much as Nick hated the cheery chubby old man persona, it wasn’t so bad.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay, I’ll give it some thought, buddy.”

“Thank you all for your time.” Ms. O’Clery smiled, reaching for her coat.

“See you next year, Nick. And good luck over the next few weeks.” George said, clapping him on the shoulder.

Ms. O’Clery exchanged a few words with nearly everyone as they left, waiting until Nick approached the door.

“It’s good to finally meet you, Mr. Klaus. Your friends went through a great deal of effort to ensure your party invitation. I know how busy this time of year is, but it seemed very important that you come and it’s clear why, now that I’ve met you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She shrugged her slim shoulders. “You just need a little pick-me-up before the season’s heavy push.”

“Well it would be a little easier if the guys focused on the work to be done rather than screwing around to get me into some party.”

Ms. O’Clery grinned. “Oh, this isn’t just some party, Mr. Klaus. This is my party. And my parties aren’t to be missed.” She winked, pulling her coat on. “Trust me, this is just what you need. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

Nick’s hand tingled with warmth when she’d touched him before she disappeared through the conference room door.

He let out a long breath and growled. “I don’t have time for this shit. And I don’t know why you always schedule these summits during my quarter, Martin.”

Martin eyed him curiously. “I’ve never been to a Quinn O’Clery party. You shouldn’t miss it.”

“Not you, too.” Nick grumbled on his way out.

I really fucking hate parties.

The Associate

The Associate hovered outside the conference room door, clipboard in hand, observing.

Her eyes strayed from the gathering of council members to her target—the large, blond, bearded man at the back of the room—to the snow-dusted newcomer.

It had taken a lot of effort to infiltrate her way into the organization committee just to be able to insert herself into this annual meeting, as she had done for the last decade.

Serviceable and invisible were the requirements of this role.

She rolled the disgust from her shoulders, much preferring her day job, where she held power and was the face of her company.

This required anonymity, which she would do, for the cause.

The Ascension was near and they needed to make their move.

If not this time, they’d have to wait another full year, and her employers were keen to claim this new sector before they were exposed, with everything else that had been going on.

However, this council’s guest concerned her.

The Associate turned to the kitchenette, gathering glasses and water pitchers onto a tray, quickly whispering an augmentation spell bring the council’s murmurs into clarity. Slipping into the conference room, she set to placing the tumblers and pitchers in place, listening.

They paused their discussion until she left. The door clicked shut and she held her breath, stationed outside the door as their conversation resumed.

Concentrating, she listened as the newcomer brought words of warning.

Fuck.

Fear and anger rippled through her.

They know. How? Doesn’t matter.

Her employers will be displeased.

I will deal with this.

Message delivered, footsteps sounded before the door swung open and light conversation ensued as the council members gathered their belongings and filed past her.

Still she lingered, listening as the newcomer exchanged pleasantries.

A party.

Her target wasn’t returning home right away.

Perfect.

She eased closer. The more she knew, the better.

Slipping her hand into her pocket to grasp the business cards she kept on hand, she whispered a tracking spell. She stepped forward as her target and the newcomer reached the doors, handing a card to each of them. “Thank you so much for choosing our conference facilities for your gathering. We look forward to doing business with you again.”

They both accepted the cards—bearing the hotel logo and concierge contact information—with a nod as they resumed their discussion on the way to the elevator, the cards disappearing into their pockets.

The Associate smiled.