Campbell Manor, later that evening
Hopkins was standing
in the middle of the floor when Fiona and Christophe stepped
through the portal into her drawing room.
“Welcome home, Lady
Fiona,” he said. “Would you care for tea?”
She started laughing.
“Only you, Hopkins. Only you would offer me tea when I’m stepping
through a magic doorway.”
“If it were my place,
I would be asking where you’ve been for the past several hours. I
might ask where Denal is. I might ask how you stepped through a
ball of light to appear in the middle of the drawing room. But I
won’t ask any of it. So I repeat, would you care for
tea?”
Only a slight
reddening of his face and his exceedingly clipped tone gave away
how worried he must have been, and she felt like an utter heel. She
hugged him. He stepped away, but not before she saw the relief on
his face.
“I do adore you,
Hopkins. And I owe you an explanation. Why don’t we have tea, and
I’ll tell you all about Atlantis. How is Sean, and where is
Declan?”
“Sean is fine,
healing rapidly. Sunday is his day off, of course, so he’s off with
his friends somewhere. Declan is doing the same. I made up a story
about you showing Christophe the sights of London when he asked
where you were.”
“Thanks. I wouldn’t
want him to worry, and I’m sorry I made you do so.”
They followed Hopkins
into the kitchen, and he set about making sandwiches while Fiona
filled the kettle and put it on to boil. While they ate, she told
him about Atlantis, and after the first thirty minutes or so, he
finally quit treating her as if she were mad. Christophe sat
silently, eating several sandwiches, and let her tell the story. A
couple of times she caught him examining her as if she were a new
species of butterfly and he a scientist. It was oddly
disconcerting.
“I can hardly believe
you were really in Atlantis,” Hopkins said. “Maeve a Fae princess.
Now, that I can believe. I always
thought there was something off about her.”
Christophe’s
expression darkened. “If she harms him, she will answer to me. I
have little love for the Unseelie Court.”
“I truly believe she
won’t,” Fiona said.
“I hope you’re
right.”
He didn’t sound
convinced, but to be honest with herself, neither was she. The
Maeve who could hold such secrets so closely for so long wasn’t the
woman Fiona knew.
“I’d love to see it
someday,” Hopkins said. “I’ve long been a student of
mythology—although, we’ll have to reclassify, won’t we? You’ve just
changed everything. Fiction has become fact.”
“The world should be
used to that, after vampires and shape-shifters revealed
themselves,” Christophe said. “But we’re not openly announcing
anything until we can raise Atlantis to the surface to take its
place in the world once more.”
“It seems like a lot
of people know,” Fiona said doubtfully.
“Yes, but what can
they say? Atlantis exists? It would show up as a tabloid story.”
Christophe shrugged and, standing, took the plates to the sink and
turned on the faucet. “We still have to retrieve the Siren and two
other gems before Atlantis can rise.”
“I can understand
your urgency,” Hopkins said, jumping up to help clear their few
dishes. “Even after you gave us your proof, we didn’t believe you.
I’d so very much like to see it.”
“That can be
arranged,” Christophe said, grinning. “Be nice to me and you’ll get
your chance.”
“Then again, I’ve
heard Morocco is an interesting place to visit,” Hopkins replied,
not missing a beat.
Fiona laughed at the
two of them and crossed over to the sink where Christophe was
washing their dishes. She picked up a hand towel and began to dry
them.
“Lady Fiona,” Hopkins
said, sounding shocked. “A lady does not do dishes.”
“You know, that’s
silly,” she said. “I have to eat. Why should I be exempt from
cleaning up after myself? If you really want to help, will you
please figure out another disguise as good as the Uma Thurman look?
We’re heading out to a werewolf pub, and this time we’re taking the
Ducatis.”