Chapter 26: Happy Christmas, Part 2

"Jeffrey?" Jeffrey looked up from his book to see McKale shimmying up to his side, hands curled in the pinstripes of his new jacket. He set his book down, dog-earing it for a second time, and turned to his employer,” Yes, sir?" McKale stopped close enough to Jeffrey to feel the heat wavering off of him. He leaned down to Jeffrey's ear, casting a suspicious gaze around the room,"He's the chap Wilbur wants." "Indeed, sir?" Jeffrey swallowed hard and let his gaze sweep the room. Dagstae (or, at least, the one of them in white) was staring at them from across the room,” Perhaps, sir, it would be wiser to speak of him in a more private setting?" "Oh, right-ho,"McKale latched onto Jeffrey's arm and dragged him off the chair. "Sir! The food!" "Oh,"McKale flushed and craned his neck,"Burnig?" The scaly man-thing looked up from Cyilume, who was perched happily on his knee and running off a stream of questions, just for him. "Yes, Tierney?" "You can cook, can't you? Watch the oven until Jeffrey gets back, what?" he turned back to Jeffrey, beaming,” See? Not to worry Jeffrey, this old bean can fix one or two problems himself." He shot Burnig another smile before dragging Jeffrey down the hall and shoving him into the nearest room. "It's dashed rummy I haven't said anything before hand, but he's always been there. And you can't bally well talk about a chap when he's whispering sweet thingummies in your ear, what?" "Indeed, sir." "So,"McKale flopped on the bed (Jeffrey's), frowning,” So that's it. He's popped up on our doorstep like some great present from Father Christmas and we haven't done anything at all about it!" "Perhaps, sir, we should continue to wait before 'making our move', as the saying goes? I believe Mr. Tah is formulating a plan." "Is he?" McKale grinned,” Well that's bally good, isn't it? At least one of us is." "Indeed, sir. May I return to the kitchen?" "No, no, Jeffrey. There's something else that's been bothering me, actually." "Oh?" Jeffrey let his brow quirk upward. "Yes, Jeffrey. It's just that,"McKale pushed himself upward, propping an elbow up on his thigh and tapping his chin,” You know this Bishop fellow." Jeffrey stirred and nodded,” Yes, sir. We are...old friends." Of sorts. "If I may speak plainly, sir, it did not escape my attention that you appear to be on abnormally friendly terms with Mr. Burnig." "Oh yes, rather!" McKale grinned,” We’re old school chums, me and Burnig, but..."his smile faded,” But you don't seem to like, Bishop, Jeffrey. Although he seems to like you an awful lot. You aren't going to be upset any when we biff him off to Winquist, are you? I've upset you an awful lot lately, Jeffrey old thing, and-" McKale's chin had begun to sink lower and lower against his chest, his bottom lip withdrew between his teeth and he worried his hands in his lap. Oh, sir. Jeffrey's shoulders slumped out of there customary rigid position and he strode across the room to McKale, stretching out a hand to cup his chin. Slowly, he lifted his face until their eyes met and removed his hand,” Sir, I believe both of our lives have been more than a little complicated of late, you have nothing to apologize for. Indeed, if anyone must apologize, it should be me,” his hand rose again, fingers tentatively stretching out toward McKale's neck, his faded bruises. He curled his fingers into a fist and dropped his hand to his side,” My behavior has been most entirely inappropriate for a valet." "But not for someone who cares,"McKale's lips twitched into a smile. Jeffrey's mouth pulled into a tight-lipped smile and he nodded,” Indeed, sir." The bedroom door swung open, causing both Jeffrey and McKale to jump, coincidentally forcing McKale to his feet and his hands to his lapels, smoothing down his jacket although absolutely nothing had happened to the bally thing. Shar stood in the door way, sporting a grin of his own and curling his fingers in the longer strands of his mane-hair. .:I have a plan:. Jeffrey turned to McKale,"With your permission, sir, I would like to return to the kitchen. It is, after all, not proper for a hoist to force one's guests to cook." "Oh, rather! I should think not, Jeffrey!" McKale's grin widened and he waved a hand dismissively,"Permission granted." "Very good, sir," Jeffrey bowed and left the room, Shar trailing at his heels. McKale watched him life, smile softening,” Happy Christmas, Jeffrey." .:.:.::.:.:. Christmas dinner was finished without incident and Jeffrey wasted no time in lavishing the dishes across the kitchen table (not a terribly large piece of equipment in itself, but with the help of Tor and Dagstae the coffee table had been dragged over to join it, making room for the rest of the Christmas guests). Pitchers of eggnog were strewn about each end of both tables, ham and turkey, roasted to a golden hew, were present at each sitting place, and fresh rolls, soft and warm, were piled upon center pieces at each table. Steamed vegetables lined the ends of the tables, with no shortage in spinach and potato casseroles, and dishes of thick, moist stuffing. Beside each placemat was a small cracker, brightly colored and no larger than a rolled up pair of socks. The guests took their seats, McKale at the head of one table, with Jeffrey at his left and Burnig to his right. Bishop took his place at the opposite end of the table, with Cy, Shar, Tor, and Dagstae taking up opposite ends of the coffee table. McKale refused to let Jeffrey serve everyone (It's not right, Jeffrey, old chap, its Christmas and you're bally well taking a break!), so the guests piled favored dishes onto their own plates and tucked in with gusto. Although, not too much. Jeffrey's deserts were lining the kitchen counters, in plain view of everyone at the table, and as good as mustard glazed Christmas ham was, rich chocolate cake and candy cane cookies were better. Six o'clock rolled around and McKale tapped his fork against his glass, rising to his feet,” What-ho, chaps!" He tipped his head to Cy,"Chapettes! I rather think a Christmas toast of sorts is in order, what-what?" The rowdier of the guests cheered, leaving Bishop, Jeffrey, and Shar to merely bob their heads and raise their glasses. "It's always been customary for me and Jeffrey to give a 'god bless mankind' thingummy, but as we're not all quite men, I think something else is in order, right-ho, Jeffrey?" "Indeed, sir." "In that case, I thought we could all partake in a chorus of Jingle Bells and call it a toast,"McKale waggled his eyebrows,” I’m sure we all just want to get on with popping out crackers, what?" A few chuckles rumbled through the room, accompanied by a hearty helping of nods. "Right-ho, then, I suppose I'll start, then,” he squared his feet and hurried into a slightly off-key rendition of Jingle Bells. Not quite the right tune, but certainly not earsplitting. Burnig was the first to join them, then Cyilume, hopping up onto the table to make her present slightly more noticeable. Jeffrey shot her a sharp look before joining in, albeit much more quietly than anyone else. Finally Tor and Dagstae joined them, their voiced booming over everyone else’s. Bishop, throughout it all, did not so much as part his lips. He waited silently, his hands tucked under his chin, eyes resting on McKale as he boisterously bobbed his head to the tune. Jeffrey eyed him carefully out of the corner of his eye. "Dashing through the snow, in a one horse open sleigh, over the hills we go, laughing all the way." .:Jeffrey? When do you want to do it?:. Bishop's gaze slowly moved from McKale to Jeffrey, and his lips curved into a suave smile, parted momentarily as he wet his lips. .:As soon as possible, Shar:. .:Distract them:. Jeffrey forced his gaze from Bishop's, flicking his eyes toward Shar. He gave a little nod. "Oh, what fun it is to ride in a one horse open sleigh!" McKale flopped back into his chair and snatched up his cracker, offering one end to Burnig. The others quickly followed suit McKale with Burnig, Cy with Tor, Dagstae with Shar, and Jeffrey with Bishop. "The meal was excellent, Jeffrey." Jeffrey nodded, grasping the end of his cracker,” I’m glad you enjoyed it, Mr. Bishop." "Erich, Jeffrey,” he leaned a little closer, tugging gently on the cracker which served no other purpose than to drag Jeffrey toward him,” I trust desert is as succulent." "You're English has improved since last we met....Erich." BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. The guests turned their heads toward the vid-phone, shuddering against the wall. "Jeffrey, can you get that before-." The beeping stopped and with a crackle the blank screen split to reveal a shaky image of Wilbur Winquist, clad in bright red silk pajamas and sporting an equally bright red hue across his round, bloated face. *Miss...sir...McKale! I understand your intentions to wish me a 'Happy Christmas' were done in good nature, and normally I would take this in stride, but it has occurred to me that you Don't. Have. A. Vidphone. What's more, upon further investigations I find you have not left Star City. I gave you specific instructions to return to earth. Mr. Bishop will not deliver himself to me. If you wish to keep your watch, you'll leave immediately. Good-day.* A finger moved toward the screen, but quickly pulled itself back. Winquist sneered at the vid *And Merry Christmas*. The image blanked out. Silence fell over the table. Suddenly Bishop shoved back his chair and stood, grasping at his cane. Tor and Dagstae were immediately at his side, looming over McKale. "You!" Bishop sneered, advancing toward him,” How long have you known? How long have you been planning to send me to Vinquist, Mister McKale?" McKale scrambled out of his chair, backing away only to find himself pressed against Tor (or was it Dagstae). A heavy pair of hands found their way onto his shoulders and pushed him back into his chair. Burnig shot to his feet,” Now wait jus' a minute, 'ere, it's Christmas, ye have no-" "Sit down,"Bishop shot him a glare, brandishing his cane. Burnig did, frowning. "Well, rather, I,” McKale squirmed,"Oh rum." "Indeed,” Bishop growled, stepping forward until his knees pressed against McKale's,"Do you know what I do to people who deceive me?" "Haven't a clue, love,” he swallowed, hard,” Going to fill me in, what?" "Indeed." "Oh, goodness,"McKale peered around Bishop's shoulder,” Jeffrey?" But Jeffrey wasn't there. McKale let out a little squeak and pressed himself against the back of his chair. Bishop grabbed McKale's chin, forcing him forward until their noses touched,” People who deceive me, Mr. McKale, are-" But McKale never got to hear what happened to people for deceived Erich Emmanuel Bishop, for Jeffrey had appeared behind him with frying pan in hand. He swung it forward with no little force. It connected with the back of Bishop's head, sending him reeling forward onto McKale. McKale felt something cold and hard curl around his ankle and before he had the chance to yelp he was engulfed in a bright flash of white. Once the light dimmed, McKale found himself standing outside the apartment building, Jeffrey at his side and Shar and Cy conversing quietly in front of him. "Oh,"McKale's legs wobbled and he shuffled toward the wall,” Well that was rather rummy, wasn't it?" he wrinkled his nose,” What happened?" Shar stepped forward,” I’ve teleported us outside. Of course, we're going to have to move rather quickly, I don't trust Tor and Dagstae to be as unintelligent as they appear." "Tele-whats-it? Jeffrey, what's-" McKale's eyes widened. Scooped up in Jeffrey's arms was a very unconscious Bishop,” Jeffrey! That's Bishop!" "Yes, sir. This is Shar's plan." Cyilume rolled her eyes,” Yes, knock everyone out and have the bodyguards after us. Excellent plan, Mr.Tah." "Sir, I believe it would be best if we left now." "But...the...the watch, Jeffrey!" McKale gasped and rushed toward the hotel doors. Shar leapt after him, grabbing his elbow before he could get inside the building,” Jeffrey has it." "But...my things!" "Sir, I believe the choice at hand is our things, or our lives." "Oh...oh....oh, dash it all! My bond's gift!" Jeffrey shifted Bishop's weight and reached inside his jacket pocket, producing the wrapped parcel. "All...alright then. Where are we going?" "Yes!" Cy wrinkled her nose, frowning,” I’d like to know to." Jeffrey locked eyes with Shar and quirked his lips upward in a grin,” Not where, sir, when." Shar slipped the watch out of Jeffrey’s pocket and twisted the knobs. Various limbs found themselves wrapped around hands and legs, and, with a quick glance to make sure everyone was in order, Shar pressed down on the button.