Chapter 7: The Fates Throw a Party

January, 1994

The bass beat down on my brain, numbing it and drowning out most other sounds. Every light in the two-story, ten bedroom house was on and there were 18-24 years olds spilling out onto the lawn, most holding plastic cups with what was probably beer. It was a chill night, the weather forecast for the next week was clear skies and frigid temperatures as a Canadian high brought the arctic to DC. The SUV pulled up as close to the house as it could get without blocking the street and Edgar threw it into park with a scowl. John's face was blank but there was a tightening around his eyes. There was no way, however, that they would be talking me out of this. My experience so far as parties were concerned was sad. Sad as in pathetic, nonexistent. Other than political soirees thrown by Eoin or his political associates, I have been to exactly one party since I was emancipated just short of my sixteenth birthday. And I wound up leaving early after breaking a third year's arm for trying to spike my drink at an Oxford end of summer party.

Edgar turned to face me and I was sure this was not going to be pleasant. "Dame Alice, this is not a good idea," he told me, his voice low and formal, as if that was his alternative to asking Mariko to wait outside while he dressed me down. "According to Ginny, most of the girls at this party are bloody well sloshed and the boys are circling like sharks looking for something new and tasty. We can't get in there without breaking heads as they have someone at the door checking invitations. They apparently have the American football players as security. The only reason Ginny was able to get in is because she's twenty-three and looks sixteen. She will be the only back-up you have in there if something goes wrong." Ginny being Virginia Collins, a rather cute, lithely sexy redhead Edgar borrowed for the night from Ambrose. She was usually on my uncle's security detail as an advance scout.

I tried to smile reassuringly but I am sure my eagerness to get inside showed because his frown deepened and John's eyes tightened even more. "I will be all right," I said confidently. "And you both know I never leave the house helpless. I doubt there is a drunkard in the entire place that I can't handle."

"It is not the drunk ones I worry about," John muttered angrily. "And I am aware you know how to take care of yourself. I worry more about what happens when someone who does not know this decides to try you. Especially if you imbibe some of the potables within. God knows what some of the parties I have been to were like; college campuses in the United States have an even worse reputation where the safety of the female celebrants is concerned."

I glowered at them both, as Edgar nodded his agreement. "I do not drink alcohol and I know enough from the one party I attended at Oxford to keep my drink with me and under surveillance at all times." Edgar's face darkened even more and I held up my hand. "I appreciate the concern, but I have the panic button you forced me to wear and I am going to this party and I will be trying to enjoy myself. Eventually, you will all have to get used to the idea of me being on my own out in the world. Much as I am grateful for your guarding me, you can't be there for my entire life. And as events have shown in the past, there will be times when things happen that will be beyond your skills, however well-honed they are."

The eye contact was what sold it. My eyes bore into Edgar's, silently reminding him of times he either was not there when I had things I had to do or things happened for which he was unprepared and out of his depth. Like the Weretiger in London last year. He sighed and John's eyes widened in disbelief that he was giving in.

Bowing his head, Edgar grimaced. "Point taken, my Lady. Just ... be careful. Not just for danger. I remember what I was like at that age and I would not have wanted any female in my life around me then. Especially one that would rip my arm off and feed it to me ... slowly. That would be a bit hard for your Uncle and the Ambassador to explain to the local police and the college president."

The entire time we were ... discussing things, Mariko's dark, almondine eyes were flicking from one face to another, her expression enthralled, as if she were watching a verbal tennis match. As I seemed to win, she looked at me, an eyebrow quirked in question. I grinned back and waved for her to get out of the vehicle, my pulse picking up to seemingly synch itself with the thumping music coming from the house that now seemed to stream light in welcome like pennons announcing the debauchery within.

I did not have party clothes. That was Mariko's opinion of my wardrobe before we left. She, dressing in an elegantly sexy black and white top and skirt, took one look in my closet and did not even bother looking in the dresser, stating, "You are a sad individual! There is nothing in that closet you can wear to this thing tonight. Come with me."

She grabbed my hand and took us one floor above us where a sprite opened the door. At least, that was what I thought when she opened the door at Mariko's firm knock. The blonde girl was my height minus about twenty pounds of muscle. At a still glacially growing five feet three-quarters of an inch, I weighed a hundred and ten pounds or so. I don't weigh myself, so I am not really sure what it is in kilos and even less sure what it is in pounds. Being short, I know exactly how tall I am in both meters and feet, down to the fraction of an inch. The girl whose room Mariko pushed into as she dragged me along couldn't have been more than a half inch shorter than me and if she weighed more than ninety pounds then she had a steel plate somewhere adding its mass to her frail-looking body. A large, thick steel plate.

"Svetlana, Alice Spencer-Killdare," Mariko said distractedly as she made a beeline to the girl's closet. "Alice, this is Svetlana Asimovna of the Ukraine. Svetlana, she needs to borrow some clothes to go to that party. Her wardrobe is ... sophisticated. Don't worry, if she ruins it, she can replace it."

"Nice to meet you," I muttered, my face probably redder than the shirt I was wearing.

Svetlana, her model gorgeous face framed by long, straight blonde hair on a body that looked like it needed about five years' worth of food to make up for whatever she didn't get while growing up, scowled at Mariko's uncaring back before turning to me with a smile. "Spencer, as in man who makes peace between U. S. and Russia over drunken Yeltsin and stupid Clinton mistake, yes?" she asked, her accent thick enough that I had to run her words through a second time to be sure I heard her correctly.

I nodded. "My Uncle Eoin, actually."

She grinned wickedly, rolling her eyes facetiously. "Is handsome, yes? Very dashing in older man way. I like."

Thankfully, Mariko emerged from the closet with a shouted, "Perfect! Come on, Alice. We have to hurry if we want to get there before everyone is drunk. Thanks, 'Lana. I'll make sure she has these back to you before the weekend."

"Is weekend!" she growled impressively.

Mariko frowned, pulling on my hand and dragging me out of the room, yelling over her shoulder, "Next weekend, dummy!"

So, I was dressed in a smoky gray leather skirt that came down to about mid-thigh and a silky (though not silk) long-sleeved silver shirt that was a little loose on me since Svetlana, despite being emaciated, was blessed with a nice set of 30Cs. I, of course, had the perfect pair of black leather boots that made my outfit look like it was slowly darkening as it got to my feet. All underneath the black trench coat that fell to my ankles. The effect was ... interesting.

The down side, however, was trying to find a place for weapons. I wound up putting the knife harness back on under the shirt and a strap-on sheath on my left wrist, stuffing a couple of knives in my boots, and tucking an asp in the black belt I wore with the skirt. Added to the ensemble was a silver pendant with an onyx setting. I was surprised when Edgar gave it to me, flushing when he explained that it was a panic button for times, like tonight, when they would not be able to shadow me like they usually would. It wasn't much, but if I needed more then the night had gone more pear-shaped than seemed conceivable.

Just in the time it had taken to get from the dorms to the sorority house, the temperature had probably dropped another five or ten degrees, which made the drunken idiots out on the lawn without coats even more telling of how debauched things might get. Mariko's face, rather than excited like mine was, was tense and nervous. My suspicious mind immediately saw her as plotting with my enemies to get me here, sending my eyes searching in the shadows for threats and re-evaluating everyone I saw. Mariko must have felt my hyper-vigilance and glanced at me inspecting the night.

"Relax, it is just a party," she assured me with a smile. "I may not know what you are into, but it is now obvious that those security guys are not there just for show. I am nervous because I really want to get into this sorority. My aunt is a legacy and she has already put in a good word for me but that is not all that will matter. I am not exactly teeming with friends here at GU and that is mainly because I am not a socializer. I would rather be back at my dorm studying my books for the upcoming term, especially those History of Japan texts. But tonight is important. They may not say so, but Aunt Leni assures me that tonight is not an optional appearance if I want to get in in the fall."

"And inviting me?" I inquired tensely, eyes still roving over the drunkards on the lawn and the veranda.

She shrugged with an embarrassed grin. "Killing two birds with one stone," she admitted. "I have somebody I can hang with at a party where I know virtually no one and I also get cool points for bringing someone as exotic as the niece of a Baron. Just remember to forget about telling anyone you go to Georgetown. Fraternities and sororities are a no-no at GU. Psi Beta Phi has an agreement with its George Washington U. chapter to let us in under the table. This is their house."

"Don't forget that I am also a knight," I grumbled with mock haughtiness. Sighing, I shook my head. "All right, let's get on with this. I am determined to have at least some experiences I can view as being mistakes before I go back home, but I also want to have some that are so much fun that I will never mention them to anyone ever again. I would rather tonight be one of the latter."

Her grin widened and her eyes lit up. "Well, without alcohol, it will take determined effort on your part, but I think we can manage to find something that will fit that," she giggled wickedly, a twinkle in her eyes telling me more was coming. "Or at the very least we will find something, or someone, that will fit you. The entire football team should be here, after all. There should be someone here tonight that will perk your interest."

She strode ahead like a tiger stalking its prey, leaving me shaking my head and mumbling, "Not bloody likely, but who knows? Miracles are said to happen from time to time."

Mariko was talking to a pale, white guy with so many muscles that the jacket and jeans he was wearing were stretched tight enough to show you he was built all over. He seemed to have no neck, just a short column of muscle on which his head rested just above his broad shoulders. He was leering down at Mariko from his towering height of nearly seven feet, making me wonder what position he played and why he wasn't on the basketball team, too. Although, thinking about it, he probably was too built for basketball. Even mild contact with him looked like it would hurt someone built along the lines of a basketball player.

"Ah, here she is," Mariko said, grabbing my arm with a wide smile. "This is Dame Alice Spencer-Killdare, niece of Sir Eoin Spencer-Killdare, the Baron of Spencer."

The human minotaur standing with a clipboard shook his head. "Damn, girl! You really want to win tonight, don't you? Go on in and make sure you check in with Buffy. She has had some doozies come through, but so far you prob'ly got the winner."

Mariko dragged me inside and over to the coat check before I could ask what the hell he was talking about. We gave our coats to a tipsy bottle blonde with a vapid expression on her face and a frown in her eyes when she looked at Mariko.

"That one does not like you," I stated flatly as we headed for the bar set up in the large living room next to the dj. "And what the hell was he talking about? What did you win?"

Mariko flushed, looking at me apologetically. "I might have forgotten to mention that all of us girls who are pledging this fall had to bring a guest and we would be scored on who we brought," she half shouted over the music as we ordered our drinks from the Neanderthal tending bar. I was guessing he was another football player by the wide shoulders and huge gut. He gave me a bottle of water and handed Mariko a plastic cup with Coke in it. He frowned when I asked for the entire bottle rather than a cup, disappointment plain in his expression. She guided me away from the living room, her eyes scanning the crowd. "What I said earlier was the truth, just not all of it. This is considered the first test of the pledges, even though the official pledging doesn't start until the fall semester. Aunt Leni told me to make sure I brought someone who could hold her own or else so impress the pledge committee that they would not try you."