September 2 | Night

Fitz eased on the brakes in front of a two-story building. The president had chosen an upscale restaurant in Jackson Square. White cornices set off the orange-red bricks, along with wrought iron balustrades and hanging baskets lush with greenery. Arched windows wrapped around the place, and the front doors were uniquely diagonal on the corner lot.

With a chauffeur's cap low on his forehead to hide his face, my best friend moved around to my side of the vehicle and let me out. "I'll be right behind you," Fitz whispered. Nodding, I scoped the scene. The sidewalks were thick with pedestrians, many of whom stopped to see if they knew who I was. I felt like a celebrity, but I was royalty, and it was dangerous for me to be out alone, not knowing who in the crowd might be part of the smugglers ring.

A tiny smile graced my lips as someone rushed to open the restaurant doors for me. "Thank you," I murmured. I quickly entered the establishment with my head held high, capturing more attention than I cared for. The jitteriness that I felt didn't show until the Maitre D' indicated there was a private room where the president of the Council of Overlay Affairs was waiting for me. A private room? Panic set in.

"Fitz," I whispered as the Maitre D' led me away.

"Entering now," he spoke through my earpiece.

"You won't be able to see me. Private room," I said in a rush. The Maitre D' looked back at me in askance, and I shook my head and smiled, faking a ladylike cough. He turned away. When I glanced over my shoulder, I saw Fitz hurrying into the restaurant, his escort on his arm. He looked dismayed as he watched me get taken farther and farther from him.

Bistro tables bracketed the narrow walkway, and tall windows topped by suspended foliage added to the claustrophobic flair. I was ushered past a brick room with red velvet drapes and antique settees and chairs. Fitz was rapidly left behind, and I lost sight of him. Neither of us had anticipated being separated, but I squared my shoulders and lifted my head higher. It was time to put my money where my mouth was. I would have to take care of myself.

Closer to the private room, I noticed the president's security, burly men with flat, expressionless faces and ill-fitting suits. I considered taking a nausea tablet and pretending to be sick. However, I told myself that I could handle a simple dinner. The Maitre D' inclined his head as we arrived at our destination. I nervously stared at the dark wood door in front of me, beyond which was a courtyard with a single table set for two.

President Distefano rose to his feet. "Princess Fontenot," he grinned. He was a robust man of middling height with a thatch of silver streaked, balding black hair falling over his ruddy face. He wore a Southern politician's garb—a powder blue three-piece with shiny cream wingtips and a fedora on the table beside his water glass. He affected a bow at my entrance.

With a final glance backward before the door shut behind me, I prayed that Fitz had somehow managed to follow us for long enough to know where I was. Then I plastered on a smile and put Edwina's etiquette training to proper use.

"Good evening, Mr. President. It's such an honor to join you."

Beaming, Distefano offered a menu. "Shall we get started?"

"At your convenience," I murmured.

We made polite small talk while we waited for our meal to be served, and I tried to glean what I could about the man who sat across from me. I ordered filet mignon, like Legend had jokingly suggested I would, and as I picked at the prime cut beef and celery root puree once it came, I pondered the president's choice of andouille crusted redfish. Was he trying to send a message? Eating seafood with a known mermaid seemed in poor taste. I sipped my wine.

"What brings us together, Mr. President?" I drew up the courage to ask.

"Dare I say nostalgia? I came across these photos of your family home, and I wanted to show them to you. The riverside mansion was the Fontenot family's most prized possession. I was a frequent guest." Richter Distefano spread glossy Polaroids of a house on the table between us. "Unfortunately, after the death of your parents and your disappearance, the property on which the house once stood was legally transferred to the Council of Overlay Affairs."

I nodded regrettably.

"I was informed that you have been paying rent on a property in Arizona?" He raised a bushy eyebrow. "That's untenable. Your family land needs to be returned to you, and I've already negotiated with contractors to begin work on restoring the home."

"Wow, thank you!" It took effort not to stammer. I was stunned by the news, and I dabbed my fingers with a cloth napkin before picking up a picture from the pile. There it was, the house from my fading memories. I couldn't believe it would soon be mine again. Yet, I glanced over my shoulder as a shiver ran down my spine.

Two of the president's bodyguards stood at attention in the middle of the courtyard, one behind me and one behind the president. They were intimidating enough to dampen the generosity of his words.

"I hope you know that I am using my considerable influence to make this happen," Distefano said mildly. "Normally, you would only be entitled to the land, and the process would take years to complete. I have fast-tracked everything and am personally overseeing the restoration."

"I understand." I smiled with disappointment as I put the Polaroid back. He wanted something in return. "Mr. President, I'm not into politics, and I'd prefer not to give an endorsement to your campaign."

"An endorsement!" He laughed. "Princess Fontenot, let's not pussyfoot around. I have all the endorsements I need. But you have in your possession a certain book that I believe is consequential to politics for Supernaturals the world over. Now, I'm not asking you to give it to me, but I am asking for access to it. I'll set you up in your lavish manor house and consult with it privately whenever the need arises."

I lost my sense of taste and forced myself to swallow saw-dust flavored meat. A bead of sweat rolled past my shoulder blades beneath my dress. Director Van der Woodsen had been convinced that the book wouldn't be our primary topic of conversation tonight. Why was the president leading with it?

"What makes you think The Book of Tides can help you?" I asked.

Distefano's bushy eyebrows clashed together as he lit a cigar. "So, you don't deny you have it. You bear the mark, and you're a Fontenot. No doubt, you have it. As I understand it, as the guardian, you're supposed to carry it on your person at all times. Where is it?" His eyes searched my body, and I bristled at the intrusiveness.

"Excuse me, Mr. President! Kindly leave my 'person' out of this." Putting down my fork, I gave up trying to eat and crossed my arms over my chest. "And you didn't answer my question. Why do you want it?" I asked.

"Hidden from me," he spoke low to himself. "That's the problem. Fate is the ultimate concealer. How helpful it would be to know all of the variables upfront, who's lying and when and why. To pull back the curtain and learn what's happening in the background, what cycles are repeating, which players are on the board. Decisions would be made easier. Imagine the freedom."

"How quickly the horizon would narrow as future problems become all you see," I fired back.

The server entered the room silently, carrying dessert. I gazed longingly at the chocolate cake with crème anglaise and blackberries. So much for enjoying it. As the waiter left, I caught a glimpse of Fitz in the hallway beyond the door, and my heart leaped. He was flirting with his escort, playing the role of lovers in search of a private corner. Security swiftly removed them, but the ruse had been effective enough for him to locate me. The server exited, and the conversation continued.

"Hmph! You're young enough to never have been blindsided by the future." A bemused Distefano gestured with his cigar. "Maybe a bad thing or two or three has happened to you, but you haven't yet met the Great Devastator. You know, the one big life event that leaves you begging for second chances? Heh-heh. There are no do-overs in life, Princess Fontenot. As a result, a man like me can see the value in having my steps ordered by a higher power."

I sucked my teeth dismissively. "You're not seeking the assistance of a higher power. You're seeking to overthrow the powers that be."

President Distefano laughed as he rose from the table. "Hah! Some might say my ambitions are outsized, yes, but it comes with the territory." His security detail joined in the laughter, and at his imperceptible nod, one of the guards locked the courtyard door. My fear skyrocketed. I feigned scratching my hair as I prepared to unsheath a hairpin if necessary.

The medium-height politician suddenly began to grow in size. With a creaking and popping of bones, his arms and legs stretched as his torso expanded. Fabric rustled as his clothes transmuted to match his new stature. His shin hit the table, which scraped against the courtyard floor with a loud, jarring noise. Dinner plates and glasses tinkled and rattled as they were knocked over. Utensils clattered to the floor. The politician's head was now high above me, and his feet stretched large enough to crush me.

I was terrified. The hairpin dropped from my fingers, useless. My neck craned as I leaned back and gaped at the man towering twelve feet tall. A giant. Richter Distefano was a giant.

"But unlike others after the book," he went on in a deeper bass, "my motives are noble. I'm trying to save our people. It is unclear to me where your loyalties lie, princess. After all, you were raised to believe you were human for a time. If you were wise, you would understand the peril of being who and what you are in an era such as this, and you'd collaborate with me to protect Supernaturals."

I rose to my feet, not that it did any good. "I don't believe you're noble. You want the book for the same selfish reasons as everyone else, to feel more powerful. How did you even know that OASIS had me?"

"You trust OASIS. Do you think OASIS has told you everything? Have they told you about the Brotherhood of the Scarab? No, of course, they haven't, or we wouldn't be quibbling over the one thing that can prevent power-hungry humans from destroying the fragile peace between our worlds."

"What is the Brotherhood of the Scarab?" I asked as I retreated a step. I wanted to make a run for it. The president tugged his pants and crouched to my level. I took another step back, but he smiled as he easily dragged the table behind me to prevent further backtracking.

"The Brotherhood of the Scarab," he replied, "is a band of men who have been kidnapping and sacrificing Supernaturals in a bid for immortality."

Circling around the table, I said, "Not all humans—"

"Oh, don't be naive, Princess Fontenot! With the rising human consciousness, yes, some humans will seek harmless ways of bending the universe to their will, but many more of them will dabble in the Dark Arts for nefarious purposes like these miscreants who call themselves sons of Isis. I plan to use The Book of Tides to pinpoint the zenith of the Age of Magic so that I can ensure that humans never reach it."

"Well, I don't have the book, Mr. President. I'm sorry I can't help. I wish I could say it's been a pleasure, but..." Enough pussyfooting around, as he had called it. I collected my purse to make it apparent I was ready to leave, but he slammed a hand down in front of me.

"They are killing our kind!" he warned.

I adjusted a sleeve of my dress as I sniffed. "Sir, I've been fighting and hiding for my life ever since I found out I was a Supernatural, and it hasn't been humans after me. Try the vampire Darcy Cyprian," I snapped. "You call me naive, but there's one thing I know, and that's that there are good and evil on both sides of this war you're trying to drum up.

"Even if I had The Book of Tides," I boldly headed toward the door as I spoke, "I would never let it fall into anyone's hands who intended to use it. Its power is too volatile. The Fontenot family knew this, and they gave their lives to shield the book from men like you."

He quickly morphed down to size before I turned the latch. "I know how to find you, and I will have that book," he ground out.

"Then you know who stands with me, and I'd like to see you try," I said.

He held the door pressed shut, but I didn't let his bullying deter me. I tried to push him aside. He didn't budge. I waited for him to move, and he chuckled. "The waitstaff at this restaurant has been instructed to give us utmost privacy. Scream, if you like. They'll turn a blind eye. They expect you to leave with me."

"Open the door, Mr. President." I tried out my powers on him.

Smiling, he pulled something from his ear. "Hearing aids. For whatever reason, the voice of a siren has no effect on them. Now, don't embarass me, Princess Fontenot. Let's walk out of here with the decorum of a woman of your breeding. Or you'll make me have to get my men to carry you out," he threatened as he put the hearing aid back in place.

I had two hairpins and three assailants. I cursed my luck. But if I walked out with him, then that would give Fitz the opportunity to see and follow us. The president didn't wait for my response. He grabbed my wrist, unwittingly depressing the panic button. He must have felt it because he instantly froze and glared at me in consternation. A tremulous smile flitted across my lips.

"You just called in the calvary. If you don't let me walk out that door in peace, this place will be crawling with OASIS agents within minutes," I lied, "and I know they say all press is good press, but I don't think trying to hold hostage the last remaining Fontenot will help your reelection much."

"There will be other opportunities. OASIS won't protect you forever," he growled.

He didn't know we were getting rid of the book. Fascinating. I made a show of checking the time, and he snatched open the door and let me pass. The security personnel on the other side looked surprised.

"Until we meet again," I said as I exited.

Every ounce of strength was required to put one high-heeled foot in front of the other. Fitz skated into view at the end of the hallway, raising his vape pen to his lips, but when he saw me, he put it down.

"Go get the car. Hurry," I whispered into his earpiece.

My best friend darted out of sight before the guards noticed him. I walked the length of the restaurant with my heart in my throat. The obsidian amulet burned against my collarbone. I hoped it was doing its job. I nodded goodbye to the Maitre D' and he clicked his heels together and bobbed his head in return. Then I slid out the doors of the restaurant and hopped into the car Fitz had waiting for me.

"That was close," I breathed a sigh of relief. But I had done it. No one had rescued me. I had saved myself. Looking out the rearview window, I wondered how long it would take Richter Distefano to realize that the calvary wasn't coming and how soon he would send his goons after us.

"Let's get you out of here," said Fitz as he floored it. 

  *** 

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