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Sex and the late hour proved effective sleep aids. I thought of Grace only once before I drifted off. We didn’t stir until the sun was well on its arc through the morning sky.
We made sleepy morning love, slow and indulgent, like licking drips from an ice cream cone on a hot afternoon. When James left our bed for the shower, I donned his shirt, revelling in the scent of him, and ambled to the kitchen to make coffee. It was already past noon.
Sun shone in through the windows above the sink. In the distance, birds fluttered amongst the vines, their faint chirps the only sounds other than the coffee gurgling through the old drip coffee maker. I cleaned up the dinner dishes and started breakfast.
As I flipped bacon in the freshly washed cast-iron skillet, James sauntered up behind and wrapped me in an embrace. “My shirt doesn’t quite cover your butt.”
I turned in his arms. “I know.” I stood up on my toes and kissed him. “Will you finish making breakfast? I’m going to shower.”
“Sure,” he said, smacking my behind as I left his embrace.
I loved lazy mornings like this with James. It felt right. Comfortable.
After showering, I dressed in a long-sleeved T-shirt and capris then packed my small bag and set it on the floor beside James’s satchel.
James was on his phone in the kitchen. He hung up when I arrived. “Last-minute checks. Mason wants to see you before the caucus.”
“All right.” I took a seat at the table. “Have you been to one of these caucuses before?”
“No,” James said, dishing up our eggs and bacon. “The Tribunal isn’t keen on having the help mingle with the upper crust.”
As much as it bothered me that he thought of himself as the help, it was probably better than the truth. His family had been coerced into participating in Tribunal interrogations. And all because long ago one of James’s ancestors had inadvertently revealed that the males in his family could read memories, a skill that made interrogations less messy. Sometimes.
“That’s in the past. You’re not the help anymore.”
James shook his head. “Not for the last eight months, but we were for more than a hundred years.”
“I still find it hard to believe the Tribunal thought using your family like that was okay. The changes Mason is proposing will make it impossible for them to ever do it again.”
James set a plate in front of me. “You think going public is a good idea?”
“I’m not sure about that. It’s moving toward some form of democratic representation that I was thinking about.”
“There’s not a chance in hell of that happening,” James said, and took his seat.
“I’m trying to be optimistic. You should give it a try.”
After eating, we cleaned up and left the place the way we’d found it. We got back in the minivan and I reached for my seat belt. “Where’s the caucus meeting?”
“At a winery, but I want to take you someplace else first.” James started the engine.
“Where?”
“To meet my family. They’re staying in St. Helena. It’s not far.”
I swung my head in his direction. “You waited until now to spring this on me?”
“Not exactly.” He turned off the engine and met my gaze. “They weren’t sure they’d come at all. It’s the first time they’ve been invited. A show of good faith, I think. Dad didn’t want any part of it, but Mom did. She wanted the chance to put faces to names and look each one in the eye. They arrived this morning.”
“Brave woman, but still. You could have warned me.”
“And have you worry for nothing? I honestly didn’t think they’d come. They phoned as I got out of the shower this morning.”
I took a deep breath and settled back in my seat.
“You would have met them tonight anyway, but I’d rather you meet them someplace private.”
“You mean somewhere you can intervene if blood’s drawn.”
“That’s a little melodramatic don’t you think?”
“Your father isn’t my biggest fan.” The first time I met James’s father, he learned I was a Ghost. He equated Ghosts with Tribunal, so yeah, that hadn’t gone well. The second time I met him, he jolted me. If he’d been stronger, it would have killed me.
“He’ll come around. So will Mom.”
I gazed down at my shabby capris. “I’m not even dressed nice.”
“That’s what you’re worried about?”
“Don’t be an ass.”
“Would you rather meet them tonight when the others are there, standing around watching?”
“No.”
“All right, then.” He reached for the ignition and restarted the engine.
He drove north until Highway 29 turned into Main Street, where the homes were turn-of-the-century and well maintained. Three-globe antique street lights rose over manicured lawns. A short fifteen minutes later, he turned into a driveway surrounded by river-rock walls.
The sign read Las Alcobas. “The Alcoves,” James said. A Georgian-style mansion was visible from the street behind a row of palm trees. We drove past the mansion and pulled into a spot close to one of two modern annex buildings at the rear. Las Alcobas was flashy. James didn’t get his taste from his father.
He pulled out his phone and sent a text before looking over at me. “Ready?” he asked, with his hand on the door latch.
“You’ve never talked much about your mother. What’s she like?”
“She’s a proper Southern woman, soft on the outside, hard as iron inside.”
“That’s not reassuring.”
“Hard’s the wrong word. Strong is better. Like you. Now stop worrying and get out of the van.”
His compliment stole my words. I floated on top of it, hiding a grin, then took a deep breath and opened my door. James met me at the back of the van and took my hand. Ahead, I spotted his father, Redmond. He’d come out a side door to greet us. Redmond Moss stood shorter than his son by a few inches. He wore a cashmere sweater under a suit jacket despite a day already into T-shirt temperatures; a lawyer, through and through.
“Son,” he said, shaking James’s hand.
“Dad. You remember Emelynn?”
“Of course. Emelynn.” He offered his hand. “Good to see you again.” He had the physique of an athlete, and it readily defied the grey in his hair that hinted at his age—mid-fifties was my guess.
I established my block. It was my only defence to prevent Redmond from using the physical contact to read my memories. I shook his hand and mumbled something polite. He held the door for me. We climbed to the top floor and a corner suite. Redmond led the way inside. James’s mother sat on the sofa with her ankles crossed and her hands in her lap. She looked up, and a perfect smile animated her fine porcelain features. She stood and smoothed her dress, waiting for us to approach. I wondered what had made James describe her as soft. She looked five pounds short of skeletal.
“Mother,” James said, bending to kiss her on the cheek. “This is Emelynn Taylor. Emelynn, my mother.”
“Mrs. Moss,” I said, and offered the petite woman my hand.
Her grip was light and brief, her eyes sharp and penetrating. A queen holding court with a demure tip of her head. “Diana, please. No need for such formality. Have a seat.”
I sat where she suggested, opposite her. Redmond sat beside me, leaving me feeling penned in.
“Darling, would you mind serving coffee?” she said to James in a sweet, sing-song voice that I imagined he rarely said no to. Diana wore her hair in a smooth bun that sat at the nape of her neck. Not a single strand strayed from its place. I got the feeling it wouldn’t dare.
“James tells me you live in Vancouver?” She spoke with the same measured cadence and Southern drawl as her husband.
There was an art to small talk I hadn’t appreciated before. Chatting with Diana felt like a waltz with predetermined steps and a predictable rhythm. The conversation moved back and forth, and the circle of her questions grew tighter with each round. I began to appreciate James’s description of her. Soft didn’t refer to her physique but to her silken manners.
As James served the coffee, Diana started pecking on the frayed outskirts of my life. Where did I grow up? Which schools did I attend? How did I end up in Vancouver? Then she moved in closer. Who were my parents? What were their backgrounds? What did I do for work? And finally, she asked the question I suspected she’d wanted to from the moment I walked in the door. How did I meet her son?
I glanced at James, who had taken the seat next to his mother. Was it a trick question? Surely James hadn’t told her the truth—that I’d been the unwitting mistress to his brother-in-law, Jackson. “James hasn’t told you?” I asked, praying James hadn’t painted that unflattering picture of me in the arms of his sister’s husband.
James intervened. “She’s from the Vancouver covey, Mother. Emelynn is the one who was injured during Sandra’s rescue.”
Injured? I’d been shot.
“Forgive me,” Diana said, pressing her hand to her heart. “We are ever so grateful.” She tipped her head and presented me with a thankful smile. My inner skeptic kicked me in the shin. Diana seemed far too polished to have missed such a big detail. “I’m sure I would have remembered if it weren’t for the occasion.”
I raised my eyebrows in question. “Occasion?”
“Why yes. This is the first time James has brought someone to meet us.”
Heat rushed to my face.
“You would have met tonight, regardless,” James said, trying to take some of the weight out of his mother’s revelation. But what he’d done was unintentionally drop a gold nugget in her palm, and she went mining for more.
“Oh? You must have some influential connections, Emelynn.” From the corner of my eye, I saw James raise his hand to his forehead.
I didn’t for a minute believe Diana was unaware of my relationship to the Reynoldses—I was the one who’d told her husband, after all. I also knew from James that Diana had a keen interest in the Tribunal, who had impacted her life so severely. She probably knew more about them than I did, and she most certainly knew the Reynoldses were one of the founding families.
Even so, I could have brushed her off. But I also had a keen interest; this woman would be my mother-in-law someday. If she had a problem with the fact I was a gifted Flier and not born, or that Jolene’s gift had made me a part of the Reynolds family, it wouldn’t be because I hadn’t been up front with her right from the start.
I told her everything. Surprise didn’t flit across her features once. She was either very good at checking her emotions, or she’d heard it all before. My money was on the latter; this was a repeat. Perhaps her asking me had been a test of my integrity.
When I’d finished, I set my coffee cup on the table in front of me. I’d been using it as a prop. It had gone cold ages ago.
Diana’s gaze followed the coffee cup, but she didn’t move. Redmond hadn’t said a word. I glanced at James. He watched his mother with guarded interest.
“You’re a Ghost,” Diana said, her voice a whisper. We’d finally got to the one small detail she hadn’t known.
“I am,” I said. I felt at a loss as to what to do with my hands. The air conditioner kicked in. I tucked a curl behind my ear.
Diana’s gaze locked onto my earrings. I’d worn the grey-green studs James had given me. I rarely took them off. She inhaled and lifted her chin. If she admired them, she didn’t say. One day soon, I’d tell her they were a gift from James.
“We can’t stay,” James said, standing. “Mason is waiting for us.”
I stood, as did Diana and Redmond. James kissed his mother’s cheek. “See you tonight,” he said. I thought it sad that they didn’t embrace. Perhaps James’s aloofness came from his mother.
Diana once again offered up her china-doll smile, fully recovered, and extended me her hand. “I’m glad you dropped by, Emelynn. It was lovely to meet you.”
“You as well,” I said. She remained in place as Redmond walked us to the door. He patted James on the shoulder then offered me his hand.
James played the gentleman and opened the passenger door of the minivan for me. I hopped inside. He rounded the van, climbed in and twisted the key in the ignition.
“You failed to mention that meeting your mother was an occasion.”
He backed out of the parking stall. “Don’t let it go to your head. As long as the Tribunal controlled us, there was never going to be a significant other.” That part wasn’t news. He’d vowed to be the last male in the Moss line, cutting off the Tribunal’s coercion of his family.
“But,” he said, pulling into traffic, “circumstances have changed.”
“Yes, they have,” I agreed, happy to hear him sounding positive.
We continued north and somewhere along the way, Highway 29 turned into Highway 128. Outside of St. Helena, the countryside returned. Once again trees lined the road and the hills were quilted with flowering grapevines. I cracked the window and inhaled the fragrant air. The terrain grew steeper the farther north we travelled.
On a particularly twisted section of road, James took a left into a driveway I didn’t see coming, and we climbed a sharp rise. We passed a Private Property, No Trespassing sign and kept going.
“Is this where the caucus is being held?” I asked.
“It’s the back entrance. Where Mason’s been staying.”
The black asphalt was barely wide enough for two vehicles. I checked the GPS on my watch. We were headed southwest. After a final curve in the road, a striking manor house came into view. It was built of red and grey stone and lay at the edge of a clearing that abutted a gentle hill studded with ancient oaks.
James pulled up to the front door and killed the engine. “I’m going to leave you here and carry on to the winery to check on security. Mason will take you to the caucus.”
“Will you come in?”
“Yeah. Mason and I need to go over a few things.” James’s gaze drifted past me. “Speak of the devil.”
I turned in my seat and saw Mason approach. He opened my door.
“Welcome to Acadia Vineyards,” he said. He pulled me into an embrace the moment I stepped from the van. He wore a T-shirt and jeans—black, of course.
“Acadia? I saw a sign for that miles back.”
“Yes. That would have been the main entrance. It was closed to the public a few days ago for a private event. We’ll give it back to them tomorrow. How was your trip?”
“I’m getting spoiled with the executive jet, but I love it. Could do without Sebastian’s company, however.”
Mason’s smile reached the corners of his eyes. He released me and turned to James, who’d joined us. They shook hands, an improvement over the last time I’d seen them greet each other in my presence. “Grab your bags and come inside.”
James turned back toward the minivan. I hesitated, stunned by Mason’s words. “Are we staying here tonight?” I asked.
“Yes. Dad, too. Tonight is a celebration. I want my family here with me.”
James returned with both our bags in his hands. I wrapped my arm around Mason’s waist and gave him a squeeze. The fact Mason had included James was a huge step. “Thank you.” They might never be best buds, but I’d take this newfound tolerance over their former animosity any day of the week.
Mason draped his arm around my shoulder, and we walked across the courtyard and into the two-storey foyer. The house was as impressive inside as it was outside though it wasn’t as big or as polished as Cairabrae. Its rough-hewn charm put me in mind of knights and round tables.
“This is quite the castle. How did you find it?” The same red and grey stone lined the interior walls, and what wasn’t stone was chestnut-coloured wood. To the right, a staircase wound up to a second-floor bridge that crossed over the foyer.
“It took a while, believe me, and we didn’t pick the location for this place, though it is an attractive add-on. It was the Acadia winery we were after. You’ll see what I mean tonight.” He checked his watch. “Make that in a few hours.”
We stepped to the left into a large drawing room, at the end of which stood a fireplace with a massive live-edge wood mantle. The high ceiling was also wood, made of recessed panels. If I had to name the style, I’d call it modern medieval.
We hadn’t yet sat down before a familiar voice called my name. I turned to find Phillip standing at the room’s threshold. “Welcome,” he said, with a dip of his head.
“Phillip?” His presence outside of Cairabrae surprised me. I put my hands on my hips and grinned. “They’re helpless without you, aren’t they?” He might have blushed. I couldn’t be sure because he ducked his head to examine his shoes. Phillip managed Cairabrae. It was a full-time job, and one he excelled at. I would have hugged him, but that would have made him uncomfortable. He’d always kept our interactions purely professional. It was his default setting with everyone, from what I’d seen.
“Is Consuela here as well?” I asked. Consuela was their cook at Cairabrae.
Mason answered. “No. She’s not one of us. It’s too dangerous.” I nodded in understanding. Their former cook, Maria, who’d been more a family member than an employee, hadn’t been one of us either. She’d been killed at Cairabrae.
“Shall I take your bags to your room?” Phillip asked.
“Perhaps I’ll go with you,” I said, and turned to Mason. “You two need to talk, anyway. Do you mind?”
“No. Go ahead,” Mason said. “Come back down when you’re settled.”
Phillip took a bag in each hand and led the way out of the room and up the stone staircase. We crossed over the bridge and I slowed to take in the view. From the high windows on the foyer side, I could see the downward slope of the land and vineyards in the distance. On the other side, visible through a wall of windows in a formal sitting area, lay the upward slope of the grassy hill dotted with gnarly oaks.
“Spectacular, isn’t it?” I said.
“Yes. It is,” Phillip said. “Mason is staying there.” He nodded to a closed door above the room we’d been in downstairs. I followed him in the opposite direction. “Stuart’s in that suite,” he continued, “and you’re down here.” It was the last door in the corridor.
“Let me get that,” I said, offering to open the door. He stepped back with a nod and I walked in ahead of him. The same walls of red and grey stone and dark wood were present in here, along with the high wood-panelled ceilings. But where it felt warm in the vast room downstairs, in the confines of a smaller bedroom, it felt closed in. I rubbed my arms.
“I’ll get a fire going,” Phillip said, noticing my chill.
I glanced at the fireplace. Maybe it wasn’t such a small room. “No need to rush. I’ll only be in here a few minutes. But later tonight would be nice.” I pictured James naked on the floor in front of the fireplace.
“Of course,” Phillip said. He set our bags on a bench at the end of the bed and directed me to the bathroom. “I’ve stocked it with plenty of towels and the usual toiletries, but let me know if I missed anything.”
“Thank you, Phillip. It really is great to see you. You’re well?”
“Quite, thank you. Is there anything else?”
“No. I’ll see you later?”
“Yes. I’ll be here when you return tonight.” He nodded then left. Always so proper.
A heavy brocade drape covered the window, and behind it, a sheer fabric muted the fading daylight. I walked over and tugged the drape open to brighten the room. It overlooked the hillside. I took my toiletry bag into the ensuite and set it beside one of the sinks. After freshening up, I headed back downstairs to rejoin James and Mason.
A bottle of wine and three glasses sat on the table between them. “Ah, you’re back. Will you have a glass of wine?”
“Love to.” I took a seat beside James. “What are we drinking?”
“A cab sav from J. Lohr in Paso Robles. One of my favourites. Sound good?”
I nodded and he poured. When we each had a glass in hand, he toasted. “To tonight.”
I tipped my glass into his. “I’ll toast to that. No more Sebastian barking orders at me.”
Mason indulged me with a laugh. I settled back against the sofa. James remained perched on the edge, his elbows on his knees, holding his glass by the rim.
“Tell me about tonight,” I said. “What’s going to happen?”
Mason swallowed a mouthful of wine and sat back, relaxed, with his legs spread wide. “It starts with the caucus. The change of power happens first, followed by the meeting. My first agenda. Afterwards, we’ll all head up to the winery to celebrate with the families and invited guests. When it’s all over, we’ll return here.”
“How long’s the meeting?”
“Traditionally, it’s short, an hour at most. Tonight it’ll run longer than that, but there’s no getting around it.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’d hoped this business with ICO would be done with, but there’ll be questions. It’ll take away from where I want their attention.”
“On going public?”
“Yes. It’s critical we set it up on our terms before we’re exposed by someone’s cellphone video on social media. Tonight’s caucus is our first opportunity to really drive the issue home. I don’t want anything to distract from that.”
James pursed his lips and hung his head. Mason and I both noticed.
“You got something on your mind, James?” Mason asked.
“We are, as you say, in a fight against time with technology,” James said. “But there’s something you haven’t considered.”
Mason frowned. James tipped back a slug of wine. “When I was semi-conscious and strapped to a cot in Vector’s lab, they’d send in two techs at a time to draw blood. You know what I heard them say?”
Mason didn’t answer. I gripped my glass and prayed they weren’t going to come to blows with whatever James came out with.
“They thought we were aliens. As in, not human.”
Still frowning, Mason said, “A simple DNA test will disprove that.”
“They had my DNA. All that did was make them wonder how we’d manipulated it to mimic human DNA.”
It felt like a sucker punch. It had been weeks since James and I escaped Vector Labs. We’d talked about what they’d done to us many times and not once had he mentioned this alien comment. Mason sat forward.
James continued. “Human rights are for humans. Without that label, we have no rights. Not to life, liberty or any protection at all.”
Mason nodded. “I’ll give that some thought.”
James took another gulp of wine. “I’ve got to go,” he said, and set his unfinished glass on the table. “Thanks for the wine.” He stood.
I leapt up as well. “I’ll walk you out.”
Mason remained seated. “We’ll see you back here later?”
James paused then nodded. In the space of that pause James had crossed another major divide: willingly staying under the same roof as Mason.
“Back in a minute,” I said to Mason. I followed James out of the room and across the foyer. He opened the front door, and the moment we were in the lee of the minivan I turned to him. “Thanks for agreeing to stay here tonight.”
“Didn’t want you to think Mason was the only one making an effort.”
“I appreciate that, and not to sound ungrateful, but why am I only now hearing about the alien comment?”
James furrowed his brow. “I hadn’t given it a lot of thought before coming down here.”
“And you chose now to bring it up? Hours before the caucus? Are you trying to throw Mason off his game?”
He reached for me. “Not at all. Tonight will go ahead just as Mason planned, but he needs to consider that his proposal has some dangerous gaps. I’m afraid the suggestion we aren’t human is only one of them.”
I let him pull me into an embrace. “I like the dream he’s selling, Emelynn. I’m just not sure I like the price we might end up paying.”
The irritation I’d felt slipped away. “Tonight’s just talk anyway,” I said. “Right?”
“I hope not,” he said, and kissed me. “At least not later, upstairs.” He brushed a stray lock from my cheek. “I can’t wait for this to be behind us.”
“Me too.” We kissed again and then I watched him K-turn the ugly minivan and drive out of sight.
