Faeling

“Oh thank God,” Merritt heard Oz breathe next to him. He shot her a quizzical look, but she had already darted away from him and into the now-thick crowd. A strong hand grasped his arm before he could go after her.

“Mr. Peters,” Tobias Rune said in his gravelly voice, holding out a thick hand for Merritt to shake.

“Cid Rune,” Merritt returned respectfully as he took the man’s hand, “it’s such a pleasure to have you attend our exhibition.” He brought out his business-polite smile and flashed it like a badge.

The older man let out a gruff laugh. “Yes, the art is so intriguing.” He eyed Merritt, giving him a look that said they both knew he had no interest in such things and probably also reading the emotions in Merritt’s green eyes. “Where has your little artist gotten off to?” Cid Rune cocked one dark grey eyebrow.

Merritt shoved down any nervousness. He was going to win Oz and that would be the end of it—he would have completed his prophesy. There was nothing to be nervous about, and letting himself feel anxious simply because he was in front of the eldest Council member would only be suspicious and ruin his chances of being the youngest faeling ever elected to Council. He opened his mouth to make up some lie about where Oz was when he heard her voice behind him.

“Merritt! Merritt, there’s someone I’d like you to meet!” She bounced over excitedly, tugging an older woman behind her through the throng.

“She’s right here,” Merritt told Cid Rune with an almost exasperated expression before turning to Oz. “Hello, I’m Merritt Peters,” He put out his hand to shake the woman’s, her arm jingling with bracelets.

“Merritt, this is my mother, Astrid,” Oz introduced. Before she could say another word her mother flipped her red hair with a flirtatious grin and interrupted her daughter.

“This is Merritt Peters?” She asked, eyeing him openly. “You never told me he was so handsome, Oz!” Astrid gave her daughter a conspiratorial look before turning her blue eyes back to Merritt. “It’s very nice to meet you,” she said, this time with more decorum—though the casual seduction hadn’t gone all the way out of her voice. Oz rolled her eyes.

Merritt didn’t have time to reply before an attractive man in his fifties came up behind them, looking excited. “Is this the famous Mr. Peters?” He grinned at Oz’s mother, white teeth flashing against olive skin as he reached out to shake Merritt’s hand.

“Goodness,” Merritt drawled in jest as he took the man’s hand, “Oz seems to have been talking quite a bit about me.” He sent her his best smile and was rewarded with an extreme flush, though he knew it was the jab and not his smile. He turned back to the man. “I take it you’re Mr. Dannel?”

“Oh, no, no, no,” He ran a hand through his short-cropped salt-and-pepper hair. “I’m simply the flavor of the week!” He winked suggestively at Astrid, whose red-painted lips turned up in a smirk.

Oz looked less embarrassed by the whole scene than Merritt would have expected. In fact, this seemed to be fairly normal to her. “This is my mother’s boyfriend, Joseph Barden,” Oz supplied as the couple was making eyes at each other. Merritt had known, of course, that he wasn’t Oz’s father, but it wasn’t exactly polite to assume—and getting people to offer up information on their own was always preferable. It fostered trust and meant he didn’t have to be rude by asking.

“It’s an absolute pleasure to meet you both,” Merritt said in his most unpretentious tone. “I hope you’re enjoying yourselves.” He had almost forgotten Cid Rune was directly behind him—or would have if wasn’t his natural skill to track every person in a room—when he felt the man’s firm hand yet again on his shoulder. “Ah, yes, my apologies, Tobias Rune, I’d like you to meet the woman of the hour. This is Oz Dannel. Oz, this is Tobias Rune, a business contact of my father’s.”

Cid Rune shuffled over and offered an arthritis-withered hand to Oz, which she shook as she thanked him profusely for coming. She’d been the center of attention for just over an hour and was starting to get used to it, but it was clear to Merritt that Cid Rune made her nervous. He wondered if she could feel power radiating off him like a faeling could. Merritt watched as he coughed and asked her to repeat something she’d just said. All of it—the weakness, slow steps, deafness—it was all an act for the human. Something about the falseness of their conversation discomfited Merritt. He gazed around the room picking out insecurities of his guests to comfort himself. He saw vanity left and right, jealousy, pessimism, selfishness. He turned to Astrid and Joseph, who had joined the polite conversation between Cid Rune and Oz. Merritt picked out immaturity, disorderliness, frivolity, unpunctuality, impracticality, ego-centricity and even a bit of apathy. He felt a bit better knowing that even if he couldn’t read the daughter, he could read her mother. Oz was some sort of freak or fluke. He thanked gods he didn’t believe in that Cid Rune didn’t seem to be dampening skills at present.

“Yes, I would be very interested in owning a piece of your work, Ms. Dannel,” the old man said firmly.

Merritt spotted shock and something akin to confusion flit over Oz’s features, but only for half a second before she was fully professional again—or as close as she got to recreating the clean, crisp, calculated but polite responses of her best friend. Merritt wondered if she had picked up on Cid Rune’s general disinterest in the art scene, despite his acting otherwise. He was a good liar, and Merritt allowed himself to concede that he would never have realized Tobias Rune didn’t care a whit for painting if the man hadn’t all but told him.

Merritt scrutinized the pair as they walked across the gallery to inspect a painting—obviously discussing which would be going home with Cid Rune—as he made small talk with Oz’s mother and her boyfriend. Astrid called for champagne when Merritt told her that it hadn’t even been the first sale of the night (the first had been to an artist from South Africa he’d dated just after college, Catherine Erasmus, who seemed to genuinely like the work) and they toasted her daughter’s success. After a few minutes, Merritt glimpsed Theo making his way toward their corner of the gallery and excused himself from Ms. Dannel’s flirtations.

“Things seem to be going extremely well,” Theo remarked quietly as his eyes searched Merritt’s face.

Merritt replied with a confident smile. “Everything’s going magnificently. Thus far, five paintings are going to new homes and I’m sensing a lot of interest. Frankly, the night is young. While some of our guests have attended Oz’s exhibition simply because I happened to invite them, I could see her getting some attention out of this.”

Theo listened politely, nodding in agreement with each of Merritt’s statements. After a moment of silence stretching between the two, he examined his friend carefully as he said, “You do know I wasn’t just talking about Daedalus, don’t you?”

Merritt felt the expression he’d taken years to perfect melt involuntarily from his face—though only for a millisecond. He told himself Theo didn’t catch it—it hardly even happened at all. He affixed a sure smile to his lips and verified that things were indeed going well in other areas. “I don’t doubt that tonight my fate will be sealed. Oz will most certainly be won over after tonight and-“ He was interrupted by a soft hand on his shoulder this time, instead of Cid Rune’s slab of a hand.

“Merritt,” Oz said with a smile as he turned to her, his heart pounding out of his chest. “Thank you so much for making this happen.” She continued to gush, but Merritt had more or less tuned her out. She hadn’t heard him—thank goodness.

Why didn’t I know she was coming up behind me? He wondered furiously as Oz turned her gratitude to Theo, allowing Merritt to scan the room. Livid green met rheumy brown eyes. Tobias Rune smiled congenially before turning his gaze to his small faction and gesturing that it was time to depart. The thought that Cid Rune was trying to help in some wildly misguided way crossed Merritt’s mind before he discarded it as idiotic—Tobias Rune was brilliant. He wasn’t some bumbling old man, no matter what pretenses he kept in mixed company. Merritt gazed at Oz for a moment as she spoke to Theo, discussing the paintings sold that night—the ardor in her eyes, the way her small hands gestured feverishly in excitement. She was his fate, the answer to his personal success—something every faeling was meant to help accomplish—and Cid Rune had tried to tamper with that prophesy. It could only be a warning.

-----

It was well past midnight and things were finally winding down. Aside from Merritt, Theo, Janna and the artist herself, there were only about half a dozen patrons left in Daedalus—one who’d come a bit late still admiring the art, but the majority enjoying the company (and free champagne) instead. Theo was congratulating Janna on an artist well-received while Merritt and Oz talked quietly about their favorite artists. Merritt had sensed about an hour before that Oz was getting rather worn down by the responsibility of entertaining so many people—of being the center of attention, a thing he often took for granted as a difficulty for some—so he’d tried to keep her entertained between patrons by discussing Renaissance art and invention, Picasso’s blue period, the sculptor Rafaelle Monti and even Ansel Adams (of whom they shared a vague dislike).

Finally, the large group made their way through the front doors of Daedalus, followed by the last art-enthusiast who had finally glanced at his watch.

Merritt heaved an exaggerated sigh of relief. “They’re gone!” He whispered with mock excitement. Oz granted him a laugh, her hazel eyes sparkling. Despite fatigue due to the nervousness of the night, she didn’t seem tired. “Out for drinks? To celebrate?” Merritt asked, opening the offer to Janna and Theo as well with a gesture.

“No, no,” Theo waved him off quickly. “I’m absolutely exhausted,” he supplied his excuse with a smile to Oz. “I hope you don’t mind if I treat you to celebratory drinks another night,” he glanced meaningfully at his watch, “at an earlier hour, perhaps?”

“Of course not, Theo!” Oz crowed. “You’ve truly been far too good me already.” She leaned in and gave him a brief, but sincere hug. Merritt watched Theo try to suppress the surprise on his face as Merritt himself tried to crush something that was not surprise as it rose in his chest. “I understand how tired we all are, but I don’t think I could sleep a wink if I went home now. What about you, Janna?” She inquired hopefully.

Janna looked thoughtful for a moment but ultimately shook her head. “Sorry, Oz. I think I’m with Theo on this one.” She threw Merritt a meaningful look that was almost a glare before dropping her amber eyes.

Oz turned to Merritt and asked, “Are you still interested in a drink if it’s just the two of us?”

“Anything you like,” he agreed, a dazzling grin spread across his mouth. “Tonight’s your night.”

As the four of them gathered their things and headed to the door, Merritt questioned Oz about where she’d like to go, all the while planning somewhere in the back of his mind his strategy to get Oz back to his penthouse. They filtered out into the circles of street-lamp lights and said their goodbyes—Janna following Theo to his car to get a ride home and Oz tailing Merritt.

“You know,” Oz said thoughtfully as they entered the mostly empty parking garage half a block down from Daedalus, “it might be easier to just go to your place to grab a few drinks.” She smiled up at the barely-concealed shock on his face. “Would that be too much trouble? I don’t want to go home yet, but I’d do anything to take off these heels!” The smile on her face grew into a wide grin, still painted with red lipstick in stark contrast with her flash of white teeth and smooth pale skin. Something about Oz’s face all made up—though beautiful—made Merritt feel a little discomfited. Merritt’s gut told him that once he might have called her pale skin pasty. He did, though, feel a swelling exultation at her suggestion—he’d seal his fate. He would win her. It would happen tonight—of course he’d known it would happen tonight, but hearing her ask to come to his place had made it definite, certain, an absolute. He crushed the other growing feeling—sneaking up from his stomach to tighten his neck and tingle the back of his scalp—as he unlocked his BMW and told Oz that she was welcome in his home.