All That Lives Must Die - Eric Nylund [162]
Dallas turned to Audrey. “Oh, and you should see how she looks! She could be on the cover of Teen Vogue.” She laughed. “And the best part, she doesn’t even know it. Beauty and modesty—the rarest of combinations.”
She paused, touching a finger to her lip, thinking over the self-directed irony of her words.
Audrey hissed an exasperated sigh.
“We care nothing for such silliness,” Kino interrupted, folding his arms over his chest. “The only things that matter are her deeds and moral center. Assuming she has one at all.”
Dallas snorted. “You wouldn’t call it silliness if you saw her cleaned up, old prune.”
Tension crackled between Kino and Dallas—which vanished as she flashed her dimples at him. Even the Keeper of the Dead could not stay mad when she fought dirty like that.
“And as far as her moral center is concerned,” Dallas continued, “it is far more intact than any in this room. She protects the weak, fights evil, and has a certain . . . je ne sais quoi, a character that reminds me of the days when Zeus fought for this family, instead of against it.”
Kino stroked his chin. “Interesting . . .”
“We look forward to reading your full report,” Lucia told her.
“Oh, was I supposed to write this down?” Dallas asked, batting her eyes.
Lucia gave her a stony glare, which was wasted because Dallas turned and flounced back to the fireplace.
“Henry?” Lucia said. “What of Eliot? How did he react to the gift of the corporation and his new responsibilities?”
Henry stood and smiled.
Something was wrong. Audrey spied his still-full martini glass. His eyes were narrowed with an uncharacteristic concentration.
“Oh, I wish I could call the lad my own.” He bowed to Audrey. “Such a good boy with a sterling conscience.”
“So he accepted the chairmanship?” Kino asked.
“Well, no, not precisely.”
“Either he is running Del Mundo Pharma Chemical on our behalf,” Lucia said, leaning forward, “or he is not.”
Kino huffed. “Perhaps even this honorary position was too much responsibility for the boy, a sure indication that chaos runs through his blood.”
Audrey made no move. In truth, she wanted to know the outcome of Henry’s experiment as much as the rest of them. Was Eliot more her son . . . or his father’s?
“It most certainly was not ‘too much’ for him,” Henry said. He approached Lucia and handed her a file folder of glossy photographs. “The exercise was to see if Eliot could do something to improve the refinery—to keep it literally from sinking into a pool leaking financial resources and toxic wastes.”
Lucia’s face went blank as she shuffled through the photos. “What am I looking at, Henry?”
Kino came closer and looked as well, then passed the photos to Audrey.
Audrey scrutinized the aerial photographs. The land was green and lush as land was when the world was new. The only features that marred this Eden were a four-lane freeway and a sprawling complex of stainless steel and green plastic buildings, which from ten thousand feet looked like an open flower.
“That is Del Mundo Pharma Chemical,” Henry told them.
None of them could do that. Or more accurately, those who might were unwilling to put so much at risk to do so.
Her Eliot had power . . . and apparently no compunctions against unleashing it. What had this cost him?
Audrey ran her fingertips over the picture. This had a hint of the diabolical, though. The Infernals and their land . . . their connections were always closer than any of the others, but that connection had ever remained in their Lower Realms . . . not on Earth.
Was it possible for an Infernal to claim land here? Bring Hell to the living?
Minutes ticked by as they examined the photographs: acre after acre of impenetrable jungle, spotless white beaches, and an improbable five-kilometer spiral of river that disappeared into a sinkhole.
“So . . . ,” Henry continued, “I would say he passed my little challenge.”
“He solved the problem,