Hello all!  A big congratulation goes out first to Jennzabelle for guessing the movie reference, if you're out there Jennzabelle and still reading this towards the last two or three chapters you get to decide the harried fate of one of our favorite characters!  So my post midterm break is unfortunately coming to an end and I will once again be back to posting once a week or so.  Since the chapters I'm posting right now are sort of continuations of each other I'll try to make the postings more frequent.  At the end of this chapter look forward (or not) to the return of a main character.  Enjoy!

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I love him with every fiber of my being, but sometimes he really creeps me out.  He hands me out of the car like a proper gentleman and glares down the valet ogling my ass.  Still acting like some modern day Cary Grant, he offers me his arm and drawing on the same bank of old movie knowledge I settle my hand in the crook of his elbow.  That's when it begins. 

Earlier he'd tried to explain it to me, but I don't think that I'd really understood him.  He's said that it was something like acting, becoming another person, putting on a costume, creating a new set of mannerisms.  This was so much more though.

For a few moments, he just stopped.  He didn't move, his eyes focused straight ahead on some invisible spot, he didn't so much as breathe.  Then in shifts I watched the transformation come over him.  His spine straightened, not to military precision, but enough to make him seem an inch or so taller.  A light tilt to the chin and a sharper set to his generously proportion mouth, give him an air of superiority.  The light in his eyes dimmed just a bit.  It reminded so painfully of the twelve and his soldier mode that I felt my breath catch sharply in my throat.  It will profit me nothing to freak out like this, I force myself to calm down and take a few deep breaths.

Noticing my respiratory distress he squeezes my hand once for reassurance.  Now though, that is all the comfort he can give because we're moving towards the grand hotel and the freaking party.  I'm really not looking forward to this.  Alec may be trained for these kinds of situations, but I thankfully broke out of Manticore before I had to learn any of this crap.

I rub my hand nervously against the cold and clammy damp of my chest and my hand brushes against the warmed surface of rubies and gold.  The gift gives me some kind of hidden strength and I force myself to remember that underneath it all, he's the man who gives me gifts and fights by my side.  I don't have to like this Alexander guy as long as I remember that I love Alec.

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For what seems like the billionth time tonight I lean my head back, touch my hand to my throat, and let out a tiny peal of lady-like laughter.  I swear if Alec doesn't come rescue me in the next five minutes he isn't getting any action for a month.  Okay, maybe a week.  The senator's that I've been schmoozing with for the past three hours are as dull and dry as dirt as they come.  If that isn't bad enough, I keep getting thrown into the company of the dilettantes and society wives and they sure as hell haven't got anything interesting to say. 

I snag one of the waiters milling around and snatch another glass of champagne.  When you have the metabolism of a three year old alcohol doesn't really do anything for you.  After the mind numbing boredom I've endured tonight I might raid Alec's liquor collection when I get home and test that little theory.  I'm thinking that unless Alec has gotten some prime information out this Bradley guy then the evening has been a total bust intelligence wise.  At least the clothes aren't returnable.  There is no way after all of this hassle, that Burnhart is getting her money back.

I'm just beginning to think that there's no way that this party can get any more boring when a spray of machine gun fire shatters the engineered cool of jazz piano and polite conversation.  Is it odd to be relieved when you get shot at?  I grunt as one of the young dilettantes faints next to me falling and knocking me over in the process.  In retrospect the floor is probably a safer place to be.  Using the society darling as a human shield I peek up over his anemic shoulders and scope out the dance floor.

All black suits with ski masks, oh that's really original.  I decide that they'd probably had those outfits handed down from their great-great, corporate thieving grandparents.  I try in vain to spot Alec in the melee but half of the partygoers have dropped to the floor in fear and the other half of them are trying to trample each other on their way to the exits.  Another ratchet of bullets halts the crush towards the doors and brings absolute silence.

Everyone's eyes are drawn to the grand staircase to the only movement in the room.  A short Spaniard descends slowly, glancing right and left like a queen conferring favor on her royal subjects.  When he reaches the first landing where the two arching staircases combine into one, he pauses and we all wait expectantly for him to speak.  If he doesn't tell us what the hell he's after I can't get to kicking his ass.

"Welcome children!  Welcome to Uncle Pardido's parade."  Why I ask myself, why must all of our arch nemesis be nuttier than a snicker's bar?  "If you will all kindly remain lying on that floor, I will just pick up a few weekend guests and be on my way."  I edge carefully on my knees towards the back wall.  If I can scoot back far enough I can reach the large rows of pillars lining the edge of the room and use one of them as cover.  I'm just inches from safety when my foot strikes the padded surface of someone's stomach.

I turn around to apologize and find myself looking into an unfortunately familiar pair of eyes.

"Hello Max."