The others hesitated for a second. Veducci took off his own jacket and turned it inside out, then put it back on. It seemed to galvanize the rest. Most of them began taking off their jackets.
Nelson said, as she folded her jacket so the seams showed, "I'm wearing a cross. I thought that protected me from glamour."
I answered her, "Crosses and bible verses would only work if we were of the devil. We have no connection to the Christian religion, either for good or ill."
She looked down, as if embarrassed to meet my eyes. "I didn't mean to imply anything."
"Of course not," I said. My voice was empty as I said it. I'd heard the insult too often to take it to heart. "One of the things the early church did was to paint anything they could not control as evil. Faerie was something they could not control. As the Seelie Court became more and more human-friendly, the parts of faerie that could not, or would not, play human, became part of the Unseelie Court. Since the things that humans perceive as frightening are mostly at the Unseelie Court, we got painted as evil over the centuries."
"You are evil!" Stevens screamed. His eyes bulged, his pulse was racing, and his face was pale and beaded with sweat.
"Is he sick?" Nelson asked.
"In a way," I said, softly enough that I wasn't sure any of the other humans in the room heard me. Whoever had done the spell on the watch had done too good a job, or a bad one. The spell was forcing Stevens to see nightmares when he looked at us. His mind wasn't coping well with what he was seeing and feeling.
I turned to Veducci. "The ambassador seems ill. Perhaps he should be taken to see a doctor?"
"No," Stevens yelled. "No. Without me here they will take over your minds!" He grabbed Biggs, who was closer. "Without the king's gift you will all believe their lies."
"I think the princess is right, Ambassador Stevens," Biggs said. "I think you are ill."
Stevens's hands dug into the inside-out designer jacket that Biggs was now wearing. "Surely you see them for what they are now?"
"They look like all the sidhe to me. Except for the color of Captain Doyle's skin, and the princess being petite, they look like nobles of the sidhe court."
Stevens shook the bigger man. "The Darkness has fangs. The Killing Frost has skulls hanging from his neck. And she, she is withered, dying. Her mortal blood contaminates her."
"Ambassador..." Biggs began.
"No, you must see it, as I do!"
"They didn't change at all when we turned our jackets inside out," Nelson said. She sounded a little disappointed.
"I told you, we are not doing active glamour on any of you," I said.
"Lies! I see the horror of you." Stevens hid his face against Biggs's broad shoulders, as if he could not bear the sight of us, and perhaps he could not.
"It is easier not to look at them, though," Shelby said.
Cortez nodded. "I can focus better now, but they look the same."
"Beautiful," Cortez's assistant said.
Cortez gave him a sharp look, and the assistant apologized, as if that one word was totally out of line.
Stevens had begun to sob into Biggs's designer suit. "You must get him away from us," Doyle said.
"Why?" one of the others asked.
"The spell on the watch makes him see monsters when he looks at us. I fear his mind will break under the strain of it without King Taranis nearby to ease the effects."
"Can't you just undo the spell?" Veducci asked.
"It is not our spell," Doyle said simply.
"Can't you help him?" Nelson asked.
"I think the less contact with us, the better for the ambassador."
Stevens had seemed to be trying to bury his face into Biggs's shoulder. The ambassador's hands twisted in the seams and lining of the coat.
"Being near us is hurting him," Frost said, speaking for the first time since the introductions. His voice did not have the depth of Doyle's, but the width of his chest gave it weight.
"Get some security up here," Biggs said to Farmer. And though Farmer was a very powerful man in his own right, and a full partner, he moved for the door. I guess when your daddy is one of the founders of a firm and you are the leading active partner, you still have clout, even over other partners.
We stood in silence, the humans' awkward body language and facial expressions saying that they were terribly uncomfortable with the display of mad emotion. It was a type of madness, but the three of us sidhe had seen worse. We'd seen madness that had magic to it. The kind of magic that could steal the breath from your body, on a laughing whim.
Uniformed security came. I recognized one of the guards from the entrance desk. They had a doctor with them. I remembered reading several doctors' names on the board beside the elevator. Apparently, Farmer had exceeded his orders, but Biggs seemed very pleased to hand the sobbing man over to the doctor. No wonder Farmer had made partner. He followed orders to the letter, but built on them, made them better.
No one said anything else until they led the ambassador from the room, and the door closed quietly behind him. Biggs straightened his tie, and tugged at the wrinkled suit jacket. Inside out, or right side out, the suit was ruined until a dry cleaner got hold of it. He started to take the jacket off, then glanced at us and stopped.
I caught his eye, and he looked away embarrassed. "It's all right, Mr. Biggs, if you're afraid to take your jacket off."
"Ambassador Stevens's mind seems quite broken."
"I would advise the doctor to have a licensed practitioner of the arts look at the watch before you simply remove it."