Mona Lisa Eclipsing m-5 Read online

  “Adams, McManus, and Kent. How may I help you?” answered a receptionist’s pleasant voice.

  “Oh, good, you’re open,” I said, breathing a sigh of relief. “I need a good criminal attorney.”

  “We have four attorneys in our office who practice criminal defense,” said the woman in a smooth professional tone. “Which one would you like?”

  I wanted to say the best one, but more pertinent was, “Who do you have in the office right now that I can speak to?”

  “Mr. McManus is here. The others will be in later at nine.”

  McManus. One of the partners. Highly driven or at least highly disciplined, if he came in earlier than everyone else. “Is he good? I need someone very aggressive and experienced.”

  “Mr. McManus is our most experienced criminal defense attorney in the firm. I should also tell you that he charges the highest rate.”

  That reassured me more than anything else. “Can I speak to him, please?”

  “May I ask what this is regarding?”

  “It’s about the man they’re calling ‘an angel’ on the news, the one who flew out of a burning building. I’m hoping Mr. McManus will agree to represent him.”

  A momentary pause that went on just a tad too long before she recovered and said, “Hold on, please.”

  A few seconds later, a rich, deep voice came on the line. “George McManus here. What can I do for you?”

  “My name is Mona Lisa,” I began automatically.

  “Like the painting?” Derision seeped into the deep baritone voice. “Look, lady, isn’t it a bit early to be starting prank calls?”

  Well, crap, this wasn’t beginning well. “Forgive me,” I said stiffly. “My full legal name is Lisa Hamilton, and I’m looking to obtain legal representation for the man calling himself Jarvis Condorizi.”

  “The winged wonder? And why would you do that, Ms. Hamilton? Are you a relative of his?”

  In a very distant way, I could say, but I had a feeling any more of what McManus perceived as nonsense, and he would just hang up the phone. I chose my next words carefully. “No, I’m an interested party that wishes to see his rights protected, and I am willing to pay you for any service you might render in that regard.”

  As I’d imagined, talk of money grounded the conversation more firmly. “Has he broken any law?” McManus asked, getting down to business. “Done any criminal acts?”

  “All he’s broken, as far as I know, is the window of his apartment building.”

  “Then why do you need my services?”

  “Because I’m on my way right now to get him out of the hospital, and I need someone with legal clout to help me ease him gently out of the hands of the police officers, FBI, and whoever else might happen to be there with him. Is that something you see as within your abilities?”

  “Police, yes. FBI, maybe not if they’re paranoid and view him as a threat to national security, or as an alien from outer space.” Which he actually happened to be, I thought, wincing, though many generations down the line.

  His words ran a chill through me, but I was glad to see McManus taking my proposal more seriously. “Then all I ask is that you do your best to get me in to see him, and I will take it from there.”

  “Are you a friend of his?”

  “Yes.” That I could answer truthfully—though my interpretation of friend was not what Mr. McManus had really intended.

  “I charge a lot of money, Ms. Hamilton. Four hundred dollars an hour, and I require an upfront retainer of one thousand dollars.”

  “No problem. I can pay you the retainer in cash.”

  “There’s no guarantee, you understand?”

  “I know,” I said, feeling better about him. Tough and no nonsense—a fighter, by the way he was willing to lash into me, but he seemed to be honest. “Just do your best to keep him from being taken into custody.”

  “That I can promise you to do.”

  “Good. I’ll meet you in front of Washington Hospital in half an hour.”

  “Wait a second. I’m not stepping out of my office without a paid retainer first. This could all be a waste of my time, a big hoax.”

  “Come on,” I snorted. “Don’t tell me the idea of being Jarvis Condorizi’s lawyer isn’t enough to get your ass out of that office, however remote the chance might be. What, you’re too shy to speak to all the reporters waiting outside and get your face plastered on all the news channels? Give me a break. That type of exposure will be worth more to you and your law firm than what I’m going to pay you, which I’m quite sure in and of itself will be quite substantial. But hey, if you aren’t willing to take a small risk, so be it. I’ll just move on to the next lawyer on my list.”

  McManus gave a short barking laugh, the least polished I’d heard that carefully cultivated voice become. “It seems you’ve got some balls on you, Ms. Hamilton. All right, I’ll meet you in the hospital lobby, but this had better be for real.”

  “Oh, no worries on that,” I assured him. Sorting through the papers, I pulled out the other list Thaddeus had given me. “By the way, I’m also looking for a good law firm specializing in public law and policy.” And read aloud to him the names of the three law firms on the list. “Which one do you recommend?”

  “You’re talking about a lot of money here, to hire any one of those firms you just mentioned.”

  “Fortunately, I happen to have a lot of money at the moment.”

  His silence expressed skepticism, but he did give me a name. Thanking him I hung up and a short while later we were pulling off the road into the hotel parking lot. We parked around the side of the building in the shade. Hannah went inside to register us, loaded with a bunch of fifty- and one-hundred-dollar bills, while the rest of us waited in the van.

  I took the opportunity to call the firm McManus had said was the best. The phone call, this time, started out better as I introduced myself as Lisa Hamilton. But it came to a notable hiccup when the receptionist, an older woman by the sound of her voice, asked what I needed, refusing to let me speak to someone until she knew what the matter was about.

  “Do you know the winged man they’re talking about on the news?”

  “Yes,” she replied.

  “It’s about him. Getting rights for him and other people like him,” I said, hoping that would be enough to pass me along to someone else.

  “What . . . angels?” she said in a distinctly dry tone of voice.

  “No, he’s actually a bird-shifter,” I corrected, then could have kicked myself because now the woman’s voice became clearly sarcastic.

  “And are you a bird-shifter also?” she asked, saccharine sweet.

  “No,” I gritted, “but I do have his best interest in mind, and I would like to speak to someone experienced in public law and policy who might be able to help him and others like him.”

  “Oh,” she said, drawing out the word mockingly, obviously humoring me by playing along in this silly game of pretend. “So you’re saying there are others like him.”

  Her words and tone of voice had me gnashing my teeth. I took in a careful breath and said, “All I ask is that you keep watching the news and take down my phone number so you have somewhere to call if you do eventually decide someone in your office might want to speak to me.” I repeated my name and telephone number twice, then hung up.

  “This is not going to be easy,” I said, exhaling a long, frustrated breath. “I’m getting a feeling people aren’t going to believe us when we tell them who we are, even after what they saw Jarvis do.”

  “Not until you show them that we’re not human,” Quentin said, his face as grim as everyone else in the van who had heard the conversation.

  “Speak for yourself!” I said. “Just kidding. No, I know what you mean.”

  Hannah returned with some key cards in hand. “I booked two suites right next to each other. Each with two bedrooms and a living room area with a queen sofa pullout bed. I thought that would be better than single rooms.”

/>   “It is, good thinking.” She gave the change and receipt to me and I shoved the bundle at Dontaine. “Dontaine, can you take care of this? Keep track of all our expenses?”

  “Of course,” he answered.

  “Good,” Quentin said, peering sideways at me. “I thought you were going to shove that responsibility on me, as well as driving the van, handling the GPS, and handling every other aspect involved with modern living.”

  “Complaining already, Quentin?” I opened the door and got out. “I thought you wanted to be seen as more than a pretty face or body. Or are you missing Mona Maretta already?”

  “Ouch! Low blow,” Quentin said. But his light teasing did what the smart boy had intended, easing me out of the somber mood I had fallen into.

  Quentin, Nolan, and Hannah took the first suite. My three lovers and I took the next suite. Our rooms were nicely situated in the back, not visible from the road.

  I dumped my three cases on the floor. “Okay, let’s go.”

  “Not so fast,” said Dontaine, taking my suitcases into a bedroom. Opening the bag that contained my dressier clothes, he hung them neatly in the closet. “Which one do you wish to wear?” he asked.

  “You want me to change?” I glanced down at the jeans, T-shirt, and sneakers that I had on, and didn’t see anything wrong with what I was wearing. No holes or stains or anything; they weren’t even frayed.

  Amber and Dante remained in the living room, their faces carefully blank. I got the feeling, however, they were both secretly amused.

  “When you declare our existence to the world today, you will be representing us all,” Dontaine said, smoothing the wrinkles out of one of the full-length black dresses I had brought—what Monère Queens usually wore. “It would be nice if you were dressed more presentably.”

  “Nuh-uh,” I said, shaking my head. “No way am I going to wear a long, black formal gown.”

  I wanted to say, You can’t make me, but better inspiration came to me. “If the other Queens are going to remain in hiding, we don’t want to make it easy for humans to find them, right? So a black gown is definitely out. Plus, wearing all black is pretty severe. I don’t want to go out looking like Morticia or anything.”

  “Morticia?” asked Amber.

  “From The Addams Family. An old TV show,” Dante explained.

  My poor Warrior Lord didn’t look any further enlightened.

  “Hmm, you have a point. Perhaps something more colorful would be better,” Dontaine said, his eye moving to a bright scarlet dress.

  In defense, I grabbed an outfit Dontaine’s friend in New Orleans, a professional dresser, had put together for me—gold slacks paired with a light green oriental shirt, and ivory ballet slippers. It was elegant and sophisticated, and much less gaudy than the scarlet dress he had been considering.

  “No dress or high heels,” I asserted firmly, stepping into the bathroom to change. “I might need to run if we have to make a quick getaway.”

  When I stepped out of the bathroom, I was met with the appreciative stares of three pairs of masculine eyes. The gleam in Dontaine’s eyes was just a touch too satisfied, telling me I’d just been had. I walked over and hit him in the arm.

  “What was that for?” Dontaine asked. Had he been human, he might have said Ow! and rubbed his arm. But tough Monère warriors apparently didn’t do that.

  “You played me,” I accused.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dontaine replied innocently, but a pleased smirk leaked out despite his best efforts to suppress it. Amber and Dante didn’t even try to hide their grins from me.

  Unable to help myself, I smiled. “Okay, Slick. You got me to change into a nice outfit. Let’s go now.”

  “Three more minutes,” Dontaine said, dangling my makeup bag in front of me with a pleading, coaxing look that clearly said, Please, milady, you’re going to be representing us all.

  Giving in, I sat down at the end of the bed. “No more than three minutes,” I grumped, looking at my watch. “I’ll be counting.”

  Using a deft, steady hand and full Monère speed, he had my hair and makeup done with ten seconds to spare: a quick application of smoky eye shadow, contouring blush, and red lipstick; my hair was a simple brush out, a squirt of gel onto his hands, and artful scrunching. Simple things that somehow gave me a salon-styled look.

  A complete transformation, I noted, looking in the mirror. “I don’t know how you do that, Dontaine.”

  “It’s all in the hands,” Dontaine said with a wink, “and a good haircut. Now we are ready to go.”

  And we were, I saw, running my appreciative gaze over the three gorgeous men behind me who had also taken the time to change into neater attire, making them even more mouthwateringly scrumptious.

  I smiled in sudden anticipation. “Watch out, world. Ready or not, here we come.”

  TWENTY-FIVE

  “ THERE’S QUITE A crowd of reporters,” Hannah said worriedly as we came in sight of the hospital. We had parked the van three blocks down and walked the remaining distance, in case we needed to make a quick, anonymous getaway.

  “I’m picking up three Monère guards posted around the hospital,” I said. The local territory Queen’s men.

  “Me, too,” Amber confirmed. His golden eyes scanned the area, lingering with unease on the crowd of reporters and cameramen restlessly gathered thirty feet away from the front entrance in an area that had been sectioned off with yellow tape by the police, who were also quite visibly present. I saw two squad cars, counted three police officers outside, and glimpsed a dark uniform inside the glass entrance doors.

  “Amber, can you stay out here and stand guard, in case our arrival spooks Jarvis into flying out another window?” I asked, looking up at our most conspicuous member. “I know the Queen Mother informed the local Queen not to touch Jarvis, but your presence out here might keep her men from overreacting if he tries to bust out unexpectedly.”

  Amber agreed with obvious relief. He glanced up at the hospital, looking puzzled. “That’s odd. I’m not sensing Jarvis at all.”

  “Neither am I,” I said, “but it’s a stone building. If the walls inside the hospital are built with cinder blocks like the hospital I used to work in, it’ll mask most, if not all, of his presence.”

  Mr. McManus was seated in the waiting area and was easy to pick out. He looked exactly like what he was: a high-priced attorney, wearing a three-piece suit and spit-polish black shoes. Beneath the bushiest eyebrows I’d ever seen, sharp intelligence gleamed out from a pair of deep-set eyes. Wavy russet hair, sprinkled with distinguished gray, framed a craggy, strong-boned face. An expensive-looking briefcase sat by his feet, and the fingers of his right hand drummed impatiently as he scanned the faces of everyone entering. His gaze touched on us briefly, then moved on.

  His sharp eyes swung back, refocusing on me as I made my way over to him.

  “Mr. McManus, I presume?” I said, extending my hand. “I’m Lisa Hamilton. Thank you for meeting me here.”

  “You’re much younger than I expected,” he said, frowning as he shook my hand.

  “And you sound even better in person than you do over the phone,” I returned. I had been expecting his voice to be less vibrant somehow, but it was even richer and more resonant in person, almost professional quality like what you heard announcing commercials.

  “How old are you?” McManus demanded, his bushy brows scrunching together like caterpillars wriggling toward each other.

  “Twenty-one. Don’t worry, I’m legal.” In that one sense of the word, at least. “Let me introduce my friends to you.”

  Everyone exchanged courteous nods.

  “Here—before I forget,” I said, handing him the thousand-dollar retainer fee. The cash was wrapped in a sheet of hotel stationery with the top letterhead ripped off, leaving just a blank sheet. An envelope would have been nicer, but all of them had been imprinted with the hotel’s name and address.

  McManus counted the money a
nd slipped it inside his suit pocket. He glanced at me, waiting expectantly. When nothing more was forthcoming, he said, “One pointer, Ms. Hamilton. Always ask for a receipt in any cash transactions.”

  A good point, though it made me feel as young as he said I looked. Business transactions were not my forte. “Can I have a receipt?” I asked.

  McManus took out a business card and printed out the amount he had received on the back. Dating and signing it, he handed it to me, completing our transaction.

  I pocketed the business card/receipt. “So are we your clients now?”

  His thick brows twitched. “I thought you were engaging my services to represent Jarvis Condorizi solely.”

  “For the most part. But if I and my friends get into trouble upstairs, I trust you’ll come to our aid as well.”

  “Of course. But that will increase my time, and your expense.”

  “Understood.” We walked to the bank of elevators, bypassing the visitor’s desk.

  “You know where he is?” McManus asked when I pushed the “up” elevator button.

  “The burn center, most likely.” The elevator doors opened, and I entered, holding the door while the rest trooped inside.

  “Don’t you need a visitor’s pass?” McManus asked.

  “I thought it would be better just to go straight up. Your presence should be enough to get us in.”

  Clearly, McManus didn’t like this, but he didn’t comment. Scanning the directory posted on the wall, I pushed the button for the fourth floor.

  “Not all of you will be able to see him,” McManus said as the doors closed and we started going up.

  “Most of them will wait outside the burn unit. It’ll just be Hannah and me, and you, of course, going in to see Jarvis.”

  Dontaine, Nolan, and Dante turned to gaze at me. Only Quentin seemed unconcerned.

  “He is a wounded male,” said Dontaine too quietly for McManus to hear.

  “Which is why it would be best if only Hannah and I went in,” I answered. “The presence of other males will only agitate him.”