Part 5

Sheldon felt decidedly uncomfortable in his tuxedo. The getup reminded him of a penguin, and he tried to keep himself from pulling at that damn necktie. It was far too tight for his liking.

At least he had managed to get here. The new hotel of the Holden empire wasn't as big as the others, but a lot more luxurious. The dedication party was held in the ballroom, a huge hall with gilded mirrors and crystal chandeliers the size of a small car.

"Relax, Sheldon, and try the champagne," the investigator's companion for the evening suggested. Sarah Gardener was one of this country's finest fashion designers, head of a big clothes firm as well. During the years, Sheldon had helped her out of some very nasty situations, mainly involving fortune-hunters who had made eyes at her to get to her money, and they had stayed in touch ever since. Sarah had been happy to help Sheldon out for a change, even more since she loved to have a sire as handsome as him beside her for this evening.

Sheldon took a champagne flute from one of the little tables and sipped at it. "I try. These fancy parties are not my cup of tea."

Sarah patted his arm soothingly. She was in her fifties already, but still a very beautiful woman with a well-rounded form accentuated by a blue gown and a head of red locks that were streaked with silver now. Other women might have been vain enough to dye those streaks, but Sarah loved natural beauty. She also employed no overly-thin models for her fashion shows, preferring charm and charisma over perfect body sizes.

"So, you wanted to meet the Holdens, right?" Sarah asked. "Othric's out of the country, and Aravin will only show up for a speech later, but I've spotted Sylair already. I've known him for years and actually designed some clothes for him."

"Really? From what I've gathered, I thought he prefers his clothes a bit shrill." Sheldon took another sip of his champagne.

Sarah laughed and answered, "Now and then, he has his spiritual phase and needs appropriate fashion to meditate. Nobody can party that much and never get tired of it."

Sheldon raised an eyebrow. "Alright, let's go meet him and get it over with."

The designer lead him through the clusters of talking and drinking guests to a livebearer surrounded by a bunch of men and sires. Sheldon blinked when he realized that Sylair Holden was actually wearing a dress. It consisted of a short, black skirt with frills and laces, a white shirt with puff sleeves, matching fishnet stockings and black platform boots that made him almost as tall as Sheldon. To make the image of a female goth teenager complete, Sylair wore a big satin bow in his shockingly pink corkscrew curls.

Sarah ribbed Sheldon when he caught him staring and giggled. "Come on." Then she addressed the lifebearer in a louder voice, "Sylair, honey! Do you remember me?"

Sylair looked up and smiled. He wore a lot of black makeup around his baby-blue eyes, and his lips were as pink as his hair. His face reminded Sheldon of a doll's – very pretty, but somehow… fake. "Sarah! So good to see you! You look wonderful!" His voice was lilting and overly feminine.

"Thanks, and you look as gorgeous as ever," Sarah replied. Sylair's admirers grudgingly gave way to let her and Sheldon through, and the designer stood on her tiptoes to place a fake kiss next to the lifebearer's cheek. "And his is my dear friend Sheldon," she finally introduced the investigator. "He desperately wanted to meet you."

Sheldon suppressed the urge to make a face at her announcement and smiled as charmingly as possible.

Sylair lowered his eyelashes, assessing him from underneath. "Is that so? Well, Mr. Sheldon, it's very nice to meet you. As always, Sarah has excellent taste."

"Thank you," Sheldon replied. "I'm… well, I'm a big fan of you." He felt heat creep over his face. This was so embarrassing.

"Aww, how sweet. Come on, Mr. Sheldon, let's find a more quiet place to talk," Sylair said with a purring voice and grabbed his arm, drowning Sheldon in a cloud of sweet perfume, and let him away.

Sheldon had dealt with a lot of advances made at him over the years. Sometimes he took what was offered, but when business was involved, he always politely declined. The problem with Sylair Holden was a bit different: the lifebearer didn't give him any chance to protest at all. Sheldon was let through the crowd, out of the hall and into a dark parlor that wasn't yet opened for the guests.

"That's really a quiet pl…" Sheldon couldn't even finish his sentence when Sylair pushed him against the closed door and kissed him. The lifebearer's determination and strength was surprising. Sheldon could have pushed him away, but that would have involved a bit more force than he wanted to apply.

Finally, Sheldon was allowed some air again. "Please hold on for a minute…"

"Why? You said you're a fan of mine. And you are the sexiest sire I've seen so far on this dull party," Sylair purred, nipping at Sheldon's neck. Despite the craziness of the situation and the fact that Sylair wasn't his type at all with his silly getup, the investigator felt a flash of arousal. Not good.

Sheldon managed to push him away a bit. "I'd like to talk to you first," he insisted. "You see, I'm a writer…"

Sylair let go of him and pouted. "Don't tell me you're a reporter? Dear Sarah would never deceive me like that."

"No, of course not. I'm writing a book." Sheldon finally had a chance to tell his alibi story. "It's a novel about the high society and famous celebrities, and I want to have as many authentic facts in it as possible. You see, the main character is inspired by you, so I'd like to have a bit more personal information."

Vain creature that he was, Sylair was instantly appeased. "Oh, that's sweet! I've never been the hero of a story," he said. "What do you want to know?" He said down on one of the couches and patted the free seat beside him invitingly.

Sheldon sat down, albeit with as much distance as possible, and pulled out a notepad and pen from his jacket. "Can you tell me a bit about your family?"

"It's mostly boring business," the lifebearer answered, brushing the matter off with a disdainful movement of his hand. "Sire owns the company, and he's a workaholic. I don't think I've ever seen him having fun. Ever since he divorced from dad five years ago, it's been even worse."

Sheldon nodded. "Where is your father now?"

Sylair shrugged. "Somewhere in Zarn, I think. I get an email or a call from him from time to time. He left cause he thought that sire was bonded to the enterprise and not to him. I guess he was right."

"And what about your uncle?" asked Sheldon.

"Aravin is okay, but far too stiff as well. It comes with all the responsibility, I guess." Sylair stretched lazily, eyeing the investigator with seductive eyes again. "But let's stop talking about my boring family. I thought you wanted to know some personal information? Some intimate details? Come and get them."

Sheldon forced a smile. "Just a last question. Are there any juicy secrets in the family? Or are you the only interesting Holden?"

Sylair smiled. "You could say so. Sire always tells me to behave a bit more… proper, but why should I? I don't care for the business and see no reason for not enjoying myself. But a secret… hm, maybe I have something for you. But you have to come closer."

The investigator saw through that ruse, but he obeyed. Immediately Sylair latched on him again, practically climbing into his lap.

Sylair smiled, caressing the investigator's cheek. Then, suddenly, his expression turned cold. "It's no use, Mr. Sheldon. Do you really think I don't know who you are and what you want from me?"

"What?" The investigator was caught off-guard.

"You are a private investigator, and that whore hired you to find his brat. Don't try to talk yourself out of it. And if my uncle finds out, there won't be much left of Cerise for you to bring to the hospital."

"What on Wyndrah are you talking about?" Any spark of lust that Sheldon might have felt, now turned into cold dread.

"You're an intelligent man, Mr. Sheldon, you know what I mean. I give you some advice: drop this case. Go back to your office and forget about this, or something really bad will happen." Sylair's eyes were as cold as Aravin's, like frozen lakes in deepest winter. "This is out of your league."

Sheldon shoved Sylair away and rose from the couch. "I'm very sorry, Mr. Holden, but I'm afraid that's my business alone. And for your information, I'm working with the police."

"The police? Oh, now I'm scared." The lifebearer smiled coldly. "I know you care about that whore. So if you don't want him to get hurt any more, stay away."

"What do you have to do with all this?" Sheldon asked, face dark with anger. "You should know that Aravin won't pay anything to get the kid back."

"That, my dear, is something you'll never know. And nobody would ever believe you if you told them about our little chat here. Now run back to dear Sarah, drink some champagne and forget about the whole thing. It's a shame, really, since you are a handsome one, but oh well." Sylair inspected his fingernails with a bored look.

Sheldon stood there for a moment, staring down at the lifebearer, then he left the parlor.

Now he knew who was the one involved in this case, maybe even the main culprit. But how on Wyndrah should he prove it? And what was really going on?

Sheldon was determined to find out, despite Sylair's threats. Nobody told him what to do! He would protect Cerise, and he would find little Fyn. And to hell with everyone trying to stop him. They'd soon learn that Sheldon was a force to be reckoned with.

To be continued...