Anything but Ordinary (14 page)

Unbeknownst to The Director, Tamar was fully aware of the impending crisis that was on his mind.  She had been pushing it to the back of her mind almost since she arrived here, but now it was nearly upon her. What she did not know for sure, was whether The Director knew. Not that it mattered; nothing he did would change her plans.

The Director considered giving her a hint of the tremendous task the agency had ahead of it. The reason they so desperately needed her help. He decided against it for the time being. It was to be a decision he would regret.

Had he told her now, or had he simply told her from the beginning, she would very probably have decided, of her own free will, to help.  

His own instincts from the start had been to be open with her and hope that she
would
help. But the one from whom he took all his orders, understood only manipulation and control, and was in any case, too proud, too arrogant to beg for help. His motives may have been good. They
were
good, but his methods sometimes seemed … Well, it had to be faced, they were deceitful, devious and overbearing. Under the circumstances, the fact that he meant well, could well be disregarded if she ever found out how she had been used.  She had a strong streak of independent pride of her own.  But surely, if she knew the stakes …?

Tamar waited for him to speak. He seemed, for the first time since she had met him, uncertain of what to say.  Well, she was not going to help him out.  She stared insolently at him. 

‘Well done,’ he said eventually, after pretending to read the report on the Troglodyte capture  (he
had
to be pretending. It had been written by Ray whose handwriting Tamar knew to be as indecipherable as his computer codes). ‘I see that because you insisted on following the suspects from their hideout, you managed to track down many of the clan leaders and their most trusted henchmen.’ He did not say that this was all small potatoes compared to what was coming.  But Tamar knew it was. Not that she knew what was coming, but she herself would never be terribly impressed by the mere capture of a few measly Troglodytes. Then she remembered Denny. ‘Everything we do matters to someone,’ he had once said.  ‘Sometimes, you just have to save the world one person at a time.’

‘Add your light to the sum of light,’ she murmured to herself.

‘Beg pardon?’ said The Director nonplussed. 

Before she could stop herself, she said. ‘I was just thinking about all the people who might have been, but won’t be hurt by the Trogs now.’

‘Quite,’ agreed The Director. ‘A nasty bunch, very dangerous. You did a good thing.’ He smiled. 

And Tamar remembered a flaming sword and the words “Protector of The People”. ‘I didn’t do it for praise,’ she said shortly. ‘Once you start down that path, everything goes wrong.

‘If that’s all sir …?’ she half rose in the seat – her mind elsewhere.

The Director nodded amiably, but he was vaguely perturbed by her sudden divergences and her apparent distance.

‘Well,’ he said to himself after she had drifted from the room. ‘That could have gone better.’

* * *

‘So, what has everybody found out?’ asked Denny.

‘That’s easy to answer,’ said Stiles sardonically. ‘Bugger all – in a nutshell.’

‘Nothing?’ nothing at all?’ Denny sighed.

‘Sorry,’ piped up Cindy. She brightened up slightly. ‘But maybe now you’re back, you might have more luck. I mean the computer hacking is more your thing really.’

They had been told about the washout at the Agency headquarters, but Denny seemed quite cheerful about it really, so no one liked to push it, or point out that actually, in a material sense, nothing much had changed.

But now his mood was changing again. ‘So, we still have no idea what’s coming to get the Tuatha?’ he said. ‘And if it wasn’t going to cause a bloody disaster for the rest of the world. I’d say we just let them get on with it,’ he added viciously.

‘I’d agree,’ said Stiles. ‘But for the fact, that we’re
already
involved. Those
spirits,
or whatever they are, have been inhabiting
people
.
Our
people.  And we still have no idea who else.’

Denny rubbed his head wearily. ‘I know, I know. Keep on it. I’ll give the Aethernet a try again’

‘Oh, no you do not,’ said Hecaté firmly. ‘You are exhausted. First you need to rest.’

‘But we don’t know what kind of time frame we’re working in,’ objected Denny. ‘Whatever it is could be on its way right now.’

* * *

Two mud coloured figures writhed in the dirt, like creatures climbing out of the primeval ooze. 

‘Really Fulk,’ said the smaller figure, ‘why don’t you look where you’re going?’

‘Biit diifficuult wiith juust the one eye,’ muttered Fulk peevishly. 

‘
What
was that?’

‘Nuuuthing,’

The car was ruined. Fulk had driven it headlong into a ditch, upon which it had toppled over impressively and bounced away sideways ending up in heap on the other side of the road.  Fulk and his master (who had been on top of the car anyway) had been thrown clear and landed in a muddy puddle at the bottom of the ditch. His mistress was not in a good mood. 

‘I’ll be glad when this is over,’ she said. (She was currently a female).

They heaved themselves to the side of the ditch and sat almost companiably in silence, collecting their various thoughts. 

‘How much further Fulk,’ she said suddenly revealing her train of thought.

‘Twao aand a haalf morre daays shoulld doo iit,’ he said.

‘Hmm, without transport?’

‘Steaal caar,’ suggested Fulk.

 She grinned widely cracking the dried mud on her face. ‘I
like
your thinking,’ she beamed. ‘Let’s do it!’

~ Chapter Eight ~

C
ounting down to wedding hour… two hours and counting.  Denny was nervously getting into his morning suit – nervous, not because he thought she would not show up – but just nervous in the way bridegrooms are always nervous.

Stiles, on the other hand, was terrified. If she
didn’t
show up then Denny would be devastated, probably permanently. And it would be mostly his fault.  Carrying on with the wedding had been his idea in the first place. 

Cindy was applying her makeup for the fourth time. She kept crying and ruining it.

‘Weddings make me emotional,’ she explained to Finvarra (dressed to the nines in a beautiful and flamboyant velvet suit, in an elegant dove grey. He looked like a visiting prince) who seemed to accept this explanation without query. 

Hecaté, already resplendent in clinging purple silk and a large floppy hat, was adding the finishing touches to the cake

Dawber had been invited at the last minute as a guest (the only one really) and was hanging around the house like a spare part. He only had one suit – the one he had arrived in. But since it was impeccable, no one had thought of offering him another. 

‘Everyone looks so pretty,’ observed young Jacky One. Cindy’s son and her stepson, for reasons not worth going into at this point, were both called Jacky. Jacky One and Jacky Two looked cute in miniature morning suits that they had uniformly protested against wearing until Cindy said that if they did not, they would not be allowed to come.

‘Doesn’t Mummy look beautiful?’ confided Jacky two to Stiles, as she finally floated down the stairs in pink chiffon and a bright smile, and was quite surprised to find he agreed. 

The small anonymous chapel that they had agreed on was in a beautiful and obscure part of Italy. They had decided to take their honeymoon there afterwards, but now it seemed that even if Tamar turned up, that part would have to be cancelled. 

It would take them about five minutes to get there, they estimated. Less, if they had not been forced to teleport to an unobservable location first and walk the remainder of the way. 

They arrived ten minutes before the ceremony was due to begin.  Even in the cool shade behind the thick stone walls, Denny began to sweat. 

* * *

There was no way in hell that they were going to let her out of here today, Tamar knew. Even though all the calendars in this place told her it was August 5
^th
, she knew it was not, she knew exactly what day it was. And the fact that they were trying to fool her that it was not, meant that today of all days, they would be taking no chances. 

She had a backup plan for this eventuality of course, but it was a long shot – a very long shot. She just hoped that she had not mistaken her man. 

 ‘Slick,’ she said softly tapping him on the shoulder from behind. ‘I need your help.’

‘Sure,’ he said amiably. ‘What’s up?’

She took a deep breath and crossed her fingers. ‘I need you to get me out of here,’ she said. ‘Right now.’

* * *

She was now ten minutes late for the ceremony. Stiles, waiting at the door, to give her away (he also had best man duties, which I’m sure is not proper) was fingering his collar nervously.

Denny was in worse shape, but Dawber leaned forward encouragingly from his seat and whispered. ‘Brides are always a bit late, it adds to the drama.’

Denny gave him a weak smile. ‘She
does
like a bit of drama,’ he acknowledged. 

‘There you are then,’ said Dawber. ‘Give it a bit long…’ He was cut off abruptly by the sudden swelling of music filling the tiny church. The unmistakable strains of “Here Comes The Bride”.

Stiles, walking beside an extremely pale and agitated Tamar, was grinning rather foolishly. Denny nearly fainted with relief. 

She stopped at the altar and looked questioningly at Denny who swept her suddenly into a crushing embrace and held her as a drowning man might cling to a life preserver. 

Only Cindy, turning away to dab her eyes, noticed, at the back of the church, leaning casually against the door frame with his arms folded, a very good-looking man with white blond hair, taking in the scene with a mocking gaze and a strange look of resignation on his face. She wondered who he was.  He caught her eye and winked. 

‘What a fool,’ he thought. He had known there was someone. There was
always
someone. And that someone was never him.

He had known, the minute that she had asked him to help her, that he might regret it. He had also known that he would. And no questions asked.

One day, he thought, he might learn, but he doubted it. He had always been a soft touch where women were concerned.  It was this (perfectly genuine) softness and inability to hurt a woman or turn down even the slightest request that had made him such a success with women, of course. But you had to expect to get burned sometimes. He had been burned this time all right. She had read him perfectly. He did not regret it though. One look at her radiant face and how could he? ‘I’m too soft, that’s my trouble,’ he thought.

The blonde looked interesting though. He wondered vaguely if she was attached.  Probably to that stick in the poofy suit sat next to her.

Then there was the other dark haired woman, a real beauty that one, but she had “married” written all over her.  He almost laughed aloud at himself. ‘At least you don’t have a broken heart, he told himself.’ 

*

‘Man and Wife.’ intoned the padre in heavily accented English. It was done, finally. They were married at last. 

‘You may kiss the bride,’ the padre informed Denny, who was way ahead of him. 

End of Part One

Part Two  - HUNTING FOR LOKI

~ Chapter Nine ~

M
any people have their wedding night ruined in a variety of interesting and upsetting ways.  From an ex lover – or even spouse turning up and laying claim to one half of the happy couple right down to the hotel catching fire, being flooded or taken over by terrorists. Sometimes it is because the hotel has not actually been built yet (but there are worse things than camping out on the beach with someone you love). However, it could only happen to Tamar and Denny that they had
their
wedding night ruined by the inopportune arrival of a large wolf in an Armani suit.

Denny took it calmly, as was his wont. Nothing, but
nothing
, was about to disturb his happiness at the moment.  But Tamar – as was
her
wont – was ready to take his head off. 

Even The Director seemed to have realised that his timing could have been better. He shifted awkwardly and backed away as Tamar, wrapped in a hastily grabbed sheet, advanced on him with such a look of ferocity on her face as would have intimidated the gods.*

*[
She practiced this look regularly – shattering quite a few mirrors and leaving a trail of transmogrified household object in her wake
]

Denny lay back on the bed with a look of amused chagrin on his face.  ‘I wouldn’t want to be that guy for any money,’ he thought.

Of course, he did not know who the man was. He and Tamar had already agreed to save all explanations until the next day – there were other things they wanted to do tonight.  But his senses told him that: