Part 3 (1/2)
”Oh my goodness!” Lilac jumped up.
Bedlam ensued.
Making a dash, she just missed the sneezing cat as he careened against a side table and sent one of Auntie's vases cras.h.i.+ng to the floor.
Auntie Whumples wailed in the background, screeching at Lilac, ”Stop that beast!”
Lord Creighton stood by helplessly, uttering meaningless lilting phrases of apology while she chased w.i.l.l.y-nilly after the cat, who was snarling his head off.
By the time she had finally cornered him, the poor thing had sneezed himself silly and had collapsed, gasping for breath beneath a chair.
Lord Creighton came running over. ”Do accept my apologies. Miss Devere. To make up for my deplorable behavior, I insist that you attend the soiree. I will stop by the Stanhope's this very day to ensure an invitation is sent to both yourself and Lady Whumples.”
Ever the opportunist. Lilac grimaced. ”That's not necessary, Lord Creighton. If you'll just-”
”Oh, but I insist!”
Leave. Lilac bit her tongue. There was no way she could possibly refuse without appearing churlish. She sighed, willing to say anything at this point just to be rid of him. ”Very well, Lord Creighton.”
Now that he had gotten what he came for-Lilac's presence at the soiree-Creighton quickly made his farewells.
Exasperated, Lilac plopped into a chair. ”Zounds,” she said imitating Lord Creighton's nasal voice. ”What a c.o.xcomb he is!”
The corners of Auntie's mouth twitched. ”Be that as it may, child, his lords.h.i.+p did provide us with a much coveted invitation to the Stanhope's.”
Lilac looked at her aunt askance, ”Coveted by whom?”
”Coveted by me for you. It's an excellent opportunity for you to meet all the right gentlemen, my dear. We mustn't waste any opportunity.”
”But Auntie Wh-”
”No buts, my child. I have been entrusted with your welfare by your late father. G.o.d rest his n.o.ble heart, and I shan't fail him. We will be at the Stanhope's soiree.” So proclaimed. Lady Whumples left the room.
d.a.m.n and blast, but her aunt could be stubborn!
Rejar, still gasping from his ordeal with the mysterious powder, listened to the conversation between the two women with interest. This soiree they spoke of seemed to be some kind of social gathering.
The old one had spoken of the men she wanted Lilac to meet.
It was time he began to view more of this new world of his. He would do what Familiars had been doing for the wizards of Aviara throughout the ages; he would investigate the situation.
Rejar decided he would begin immediately. Discretely, he exited the house, heading into the streets of London.
What he eventually saw staggered him.
Chapter Two.
It was a world of hideous savagery.
A cooling night wind blew across Rejar's sensitive face while he gazed longingly up at the stars. Lifting the long strands of his hair in gentle wafting motions, the soothing breeze did little to ease him.
He was sitting in the window seat in Lilac's bedroom. A habit of late. Especially in the small hours of the night when the peace of sleep was not to come. His large frame completely filled the seat; he rather liked the feeling of being enclosed on three sides. He supposed it was a carry over from his other self, not bothering to give it too much thought.
His sights flicked over to the bed where Lilac slept.
Even if the light of the full moon had not been illuminating the room, he still would have been able to see her quite clearly, his eyes having the ability of rapidly adjusting to changing light conditions.
Familiars often could sense physical changes in the body as well; and Lilac's even, measured breathing told him she was deeply asleep. Conversely, any change in her breathing tempo precluded wakefulness, alerting him when to metamorphose back into his cat self.
To his advantage, Lilac usually fell asleep quickly and was slow to rouse. If nothing disturbed her, he knew she would sleep through the night.
If only I could do the same...
He briefly closed his eyes, trying to shut out the untenable horrors he had witnessed in the past two weeks. It did little good. Rejar believed the nightmarish visions would forever remain with him: Mothers begging in the streets for food for their starving children while just a few streets away men and women dined in opulent excess, seeming either not aware of the misery, or not even caring, for that matter.
The streets were full of offal.
People lived in the worst filth and slime he had ever witnessed on any world. Yet there were others, those more privileged, who lived in grand houses with many servants to wait upon them. This wealth in and of itself was not disturbing; it was their seeming indifference to the conditions of those who suffered around them which staggered him.
He, himself, was from a privileged Aviaran family; his father, Krue, was a member of the ruling council, as well as a high-power Charl mystic. Yet no one in his family would ever allow such deprivation to go unanswered.
A more horrifying memory surfaced, causing him to shudder.
One day he had seen a small child run over in the street by a conveyance. The owner merely signaled the driver to move on, not even stopping to see to the injured boy.
Rejar could not believe what he was witnessing.
Still in cat form, he had run to the child, but it was too late. The boy died in the gutter.
Not one person stopped to see or help.
He stayed by the child, curled up to his side for the few moments it had taken the precious life to leave his body. It seemed to him the boy had smiled to him sweetly, just before he ...
Rejar had gone into an alleyway and thrown up.
Well he would remember the face of the man who owned the coach. It was a face he would never forget, with cruel, dark eyes and sneering lips. He vowed he would find this man, and when he did, make him pay for his heinous crime.
Rejar recalled some of the other injustices he had seen: An old man hung by the neck for stealing food while onwatchers cheered at his suffering. ... On the streets, a rich man's throat slit just for a few coins. ... Homeless children wandering aimlessly through the alleys, begging and worse....
It went on and on.
How could he exist in such a world?
He had no qualms about his ability to defend himself and what was his. His father had trained him well, making especially sure his half-breed Familiar son knew how to wield a weapon and how to fight for his own protection.
Against his wife's wishes, Krue had brought his son up an Aviaran warrior. Later, his blood relative, Gian, had taught him the secret ways of the Familiar kill-hunt as well.