Page 34 of Magical Midlife Conclave

Tristan’s footsteps touched down on the walkway. He stalled halfway, and I worried the gnomes were lying in wait. Edgar had done a good job keeping everything trimmed and removing all the flowers along the walkway, so the little buggers had nowhere to hide, but they’d started digging trenches for cover. Something needed to be done with them.

Thankfully, Tristan didn’t start running toward the door. Must’ve been something else. Maybe the sound of the golem down the street. That thing needed to be taken for a walk.

The door opened as Tristan reached it.

“Tristan, welcome.” Mr. Tom met him just outside the sitting room. “Coffee? Whiskey? A monetary incentive to kick out the horrible Irishwoman in the parlor?”

“Whiskey would be great, thanks.”

Tristan had on a gray striped shirt, buttoned down to nearly the center of his chest, with three metallic necklaces falling between his pecs. Metallic bracelets adorned both his wrists, one nestled into a watch with a glittering face and black straps. He also wore jeans, but his weren’t a run-of-the mill style like mine. His were light blue in places with stressed colors in others and artful kinda stitching. They probably cost a fortune. Where my struggle was in dressing up, his was in dressing down. He didn’t really fit the brief, but I doubted anyone would hold it against him, especially Nessa.

“Hello.” He nodded at me and then glanced at Niamh. “Crashing the party?”

“Not at all.” She flicked a magazine page. “Just waiting on a meeting.”

“Is that right?” He sat with his back to the window, kitty-corner to me and facing Niamh. “And what meeting is that?”

“The kind that isn’t any of yer business, that’s what kind.”

“Oh yeah? The top-secret kind, huh? The meddling kind, maybe.”

Mr. Tom entered with ruffling wings, probably having heard that and letting Tristan handle it. He handed over the whiskey, checked the Spider-Man watch that he’d gotten from Jimmy, and gave Niamh a poignant look before leaving.

“Well, if he won’t serve me…” She pushed to standing and then ducked behind the couch. A cooler lid popped.

“Fabulous,” I murmured before taking a big sip of wine.

“Since you’re here, Niamh.” Tristan took a sip of his whiskey. I felt Sebastian leave his room. “Do you guys have any info on the shifters who would’ve already RSVPed?”

“Loads, but none of them are the big fish. Fred is compiling various spreadsheets with their information, but we won’t need to bother with them. One thing of note: a dozen of them have reported mage interference at various times, whether it’s mages skulking around or perhaps interfering with shipments—things like that.”

I lifted my eyebrows at her as Sebastian entered the room. He had his hair styled in a spiky, messy look and wore a deep navy button-down with black slacks, weird, crocodile-looking shoes in tan, and a watch with gold accents.

“Since when is a gold watch casual?” I asked.

Sebastian crinkled his nose at me. “Gold is often casual. It’s just a lot, you know? So, you reserve it for when you’re dressed down to compensate.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

Tristan chuckled as Niamh went on. “Almost all of those packs had the activity cease after Kingsley’s thing.”

“Almost?” I asked.

She put up a finger before falling into the couch again. She popped the top on the can. “Yes. Almost. Two of them are being harassed by mages. I’m guessing these mages aren’t part of Momar’s faction. Independents. They are squabbling over business and land. The mages have brought in mercenaries, but the pack was able to fight them off. They took losses, but they came out ahead.”

“What scale of attack was it?”

Niamh shook her head slowly. “Minimal. Nothing like Breakable Sue encountered. A bit smaller than what we saw at Drex’s.”

“That’ll be good to showcase at the conclave,” Tristan said.

“It’ll be good to showcase for the mages at large,” Niamh replied. “Hassle the shifters, without protection from Momar, and ye die.”

“Unless the shifters are in the wrong,” I amended.

“Yes, fine,” Niamh replied. “Assuming a group of magical beings that very clearly mark their territory and live by a very strict ethical code, not to mention try to keep magic under wraps from non-shifters, are ever in the wrong when in conflict with mages…we won’t kill the mages. How’s that?”

I pursed my lips before taking another sip of my wine. “It could happen.”