Good Intentions (54 page)

him,” she grumbled as she got out of the car. Molly fol owed. “I’l hold him down for you.” The pair walked together toward Alex’s townhouse building with their eyes warily scanning their surroundings. They didn’t get far before spotting trouble. Onyx was very good at that sort of thing, having a particular talent for magical perception. There was malevolence and wariness here, lurking in the shadows of the building across from Alex’s. The debris of the fighting earlier had al been cleared away, with Alex’s window looking intact and normal, but the concealed presence of two figures nearby was a dead giveaway. Fortunately, they had their act ready to go. “Aw, motherfucker,” Onyx grunted with feigned frustration. She looked directly at the lurking pair. She kept her voice deliberately controlled, speaking only just loud enough to project to the watchers. “Did you guys already grab him?” “Do I know you?” asked a female voice. “Probably not. We just got invited to the party yesterday. So to speak,” Onyx shrugged. “By whom?” “That’s a little sticky,” Molly said. “His name’s Kenneth, and, uh…while his invitation was interesting, Kenneth was, uh…” “An arrogant little pig with no social skill s, who deserves to have his ass handed to him on a regular basis?” the woman offered. Onyx and Molly both made a show of fighting down grins. “We were hoping the invitation was still open even if things didn’t go so well with the messenger,” Onyx explained. “Particularly if we could deliver the guy you’re looking for.” There was a long moment of silence. “What are your names?”

“I’m Mol y. She’s Onyx.” It wasn’t worth lying about that. There was too much of a chance that the Brotherhood had done at least that much homework on the pair. The woman stepped out of the shadows. She was older, perhaps in her mid-thirties, dressed in a darkly toned pantsuit. Her ethnicity was entirely undeterminable. The necklace around her neck hung beneath her top, so it was impossible to see what sort of charm she had on it. “You can cal me Ms. Black for now.” She turned her head to look over her shoulder at her companion. “This is…Talon,” she added with a note of dry humor. “I thought you people were supposed to be subtle,” the man in the darkness snapped quietly. “I thought yours were supposed to be frightening yet seductive,” Ms. Black shrugged. “Failure on both counts, I suppose.” She looked back to Molly and Onyx. “As it happens, there is a party of a more literal sort tonight. I would be happy to introduce you to the Brotherhood, if you would like to attend. It may be a bit of an overwhelming night, but if you delay you may feel that you missed out on something remarkable. I can guarantee your safety for the night as long as you take no actions against the Brotherhood or their hosts.” “Wil this count as our formal induction?” Molly asked with just the right amount of reluctance. “Heavens no. This isn’t a night for commitments on your part. However I think it will be a good time to see how and why it is in your best interests to join us. As I said, I guarantee safe passage.” She held up her hands, reciting something ancient in Greek. Onyx and Molly could see the tel tale signs of magic at work, could recognize the invocation of spirits and fate. Al the right words were there. “There’s also the thing with Kenneth,” Molly pointed out. “How do we know we’re not in trouble?” “That can be hashed out. If the two of you were acting in self-defense, Kenneth will have no real recourse. You could smooth it over with an exchange of favors or gifts, as is custom,” Ms. Black suggested. “He was significantly injured, I’m told, but I have no trouble believing that it was a response to his utter lack of tact rather than an intentional strike against the Brotherhood. still interested?” “We’re game,” Onyx said. She didn’t need to look at Mol y.

“Are you sure of this?” Talon murmured audibly from behind Ms. Black. The sorceress shrugged. “Nothing risked, nothing gained. I’m not worried about the trouble any two witches might make tonight given the power we have assembled. There couldn’t be a safer time to give them this opportunity.” She didn’t do anything to conceal the statement from the pair of women before her. She had a fair point; al she had to do was to get these two to the party and then there would be no real threat. The opportunity to bring these long sought-after recruits in through personal initiative was too great to resist. “We have room in our vehicle for you both, if you would like,” Ms. Black said. “In fact, for security reasons, I must insist. Don’t worry, you won’t be searched or anything. The right to self-defense and to tend to one’s own matters are at the core of the Brotherhood’s creed.” She beckoned for the pair to fol ow. They did so, sharing a momentary glance that said volumes: of course, they didn’t really trust this woman; of course, Ms. Black didn’t really trust them; and of course, this was really their only option other than naked violence. The latter might be the less risky choice, but there was a good chance that it would create a dead end in their search. Molly got a good look at Talon as he appeared from the shadows to fol ow behind them. He was pale, of course, with slicked-back black hair and a black trench coat. From under the col ar of his black silk shirt, Molly caught the gleam of chain mail. He also wasn’t doing a very good job of concealing the underarm holsters beneath the trench coat, or of the short sword on his belt reminiscent of ancient Rome. The vampire’s hands were both decorated with claw rings. “Nice jewelry,” Molly noted. “Cool to see one of you guys who doesn’t get everything from Goth ‘n’ Go.” Talon opened his mouth to say something sharp and biting, but promptly closed it with a hint of embarrassment. He checked to make sure his fifteen-dol ar iron cross necklace wasn’t showing.

* “Y’al can’t carry us both, fool. I’m gutshot an’ bleedin’ out. Take Cracker Carlisle an’ go.” “I’m not gonna just leave you!” Darren protested. He tugged at the corporal’s sleeve, only to have it slip away because of the blood. will fell back against the thin tree trunk and jungle grass with a grunt. “Darren,” will choked, “Charlie ain’t waitin’ on a long goodbye. We didn’t come back for Carlisle for nothin’. I ain’t lettin’ ‘em get me. Now drop the sixty an’ your ammo and fuckin’ go, man. I’ve got this.” “Fuckin’ bigoted asshole doesn’t deserve this,” Darren grumbled, but he quickly obeyed. He threw his last belt of ammunition for the M-60 off of his shoulders. Then the machine gunner hauled the half-conscious soldier lying in the bush next to him to his feet. “Yeah, don’t I know it,” will winced. He shoved the towel that he’d used to catch sweat off his neck into his belt, where it would hopefully staunch the flow of blood from his bel y. He’d probably need to put something else in there for added pressure. Something thick. will peeked out from behind his cover to look down the slight slope of the val ey. Al he saw was bush. Real y, al he ever saw anymore was bush. But the Viet Cong were still out there, surely, regrouping for a counterattack. It was only luck and a little misdirection that had sent them running in the first place. Darren paused to grasp will ’s shoulder. “If there was any way, brother.” “I know. I know. Don’t mean nothin’.” will gasped at the pain in his bel y. “Anyway. ‘Tel my momma I done my best,’ right?” “I will ,” Darren nodded. He heaved Carlisle up in his big arms and hustled off away from will .

“Or better yet, tel his cracker wife an’ daughter!” will shouted, then muttered, “Yeah. Tel ‘em you owe your ass to a darkie.” will pul ed up the M-60, then laid the M-16 next to it. If he could keep both of them going for just a little while when the Cong made their next move, he could hopefully make it seem like there was more than one of him up here. That had already worked once when he and Darren rushed back, guns blazing and grenades going everywhere in their ploy to rescue Carlisle. Maybe he could keep the gag going. None of this would’ve happened had the rest of their patrol been better about staying together. But Sergeant Haffner had lost his cool, calling a full retreat without stopping for shit, and in the effort to keep up with him the rest of the six-man team became too spread out. With Haffner long gone up ahead and Jimenez wasted from behind, everything turned into a real mess. Long Range Recon Patrols used to be more together than this. will gave that a bitter moment’s thought, but shoved it aside. He had to get ready for the inevitable. will dug through his pack, through rations and his poncho and other gear to find the spare Claymore mine. Along the way, the letter from Stephanie fell out. It was a waste of precious seconds, but he thumbed it open. It wasn’t the one she sent while he was on his first tour. Instead, it was the one she’d sent just after his second tour began, angrily justifying her infidelity. He didn’t understand why she thought he wanted to hear anything she had to say after the last time he’d seen her. It was really simple: he went off to war, she said she loved him and she’d wait for him, said she needed him to send money because she couldn’t find work…and then he came home after a year in the ‘Nam to find her four months pregnant and engaged to whatshisname. Why in the fuck he was humping that letter through the bush after a whole ‘nother tour was beyond him. He’d meant to bring the one from his younger brother, who wouldn’t have to go to ‘Nam while will was in country…or at al now, since will wouldn’t exactly be leaving. will wouldn’t have re-upped for ‘Nam if Stephanie hadn’t been cheating on him, but at least there was that much good coming from the whole mess. “Third tour, my ass,” will hissed. Then he heard the snap off to his left. will raised his M-16 one-handed and started

firing off rounds. It wasn’t to hit anyone in particular so much as to make a ruckus and keep the enemy’s heads down for a while. Big Darren could haul ass through the bush. He’d make good time even while weighed down by that jackass redneck. Darren was cool. West coast kid. will liked him, particularly for a white boy. Maybe in his next life will would have to live on the west coast. It’d be nice if a body could have another chance. He saw a head pop up, and a rifle, and he blew it away with the sixty. He blew away everything around it, too. Every tree branch, every blade of grass. Every nasty little bug. will heard shrieks of pain from that direction. He poured it on. They flanked him, of course. Shot him twice, in the leg and the small of his back, causing him to jerk and crunch up and choke with pain. Almost over. They’d want a prisoner. They dug taking prisoners. will had hidden the detonator to the Claymore mine right under his backpack. They didn’t see it as he reached for it. The three Viet Cong that came up on him and turned him over onto his back didn’t see the Claymore where it was stuffed under his shirt, either. Not until he set it off. Teasing fingers and an indulgent hand slid across his groin. This was the sort of wake-up cal he’d been indulged with for days. His body would never be used to it, real y, but such treatment was at least now less of a surprise. It felt so good that it drew the focus of sensation away from the burning feeling in his closed eyes. He even smiled a bit. Awareness came with sensations of discomfort: cold, hard metal around his ankles and wrists, with his arms and legs stretched out. He was laying on a hard surface. No pil ow. His eyes burned painful y, so much that his enjoyment

at being groped was quickly disregarded. This was very wrong. His smile faded. Someone grabbed his head and held it firm with both hands. Someone else pried his eyes open and forced a cold, clear liquid into them. It took away most of the burning sensation. The hands pul ed away then, al owing him to turn his head and blink away the solution, the blurriness, and the fading pain. The hand didn’t leave his groin. Alex thrashed his head a bit to clear it. The last thing on his mind right now was sex. Lorelei was in danger. Rachel vanished. He had been attacked at his home. For al he knew, his mother had been there, too, and now…now he was in a cold, dimly-lit room, chained to a table. He was understandably more than a little frightened. There were people standing around the table. A couple of them were very pale, specifically a man in an al -black suit and a woman in an elaborate black dress fit for a medieval queen. There was a man in black robes with his face partially obscured by a black hood. He had random symbols hanging from his neck on chains, and a five o’clock shadow of salt and pepper stubble on his chin. There was a guy in al black clothes topped off by a black duster and a black cowboy hat, also very pale, with an Old West gun belt on his hips. There was a distinguished, well -groomed, older man, also in a sharp suit, only this one had a little color to it along with a pentagram on a chain resting over his red power tie. “Not complaining about me being on your dick now, are you?” Lydia asked Alex with a venomous smile. She loomed over him dressed in an elegant green gown. Her eyes were full of feigned affection. Her hand was still firmly against him. Alex pul ed against the restraints, but he found himself held down tightly. He could move only a couple of inches, nothing more. He felt complete revulsion at the way his body reacted to Lydia. “It would appear you were absolutely right, Lord Stefan,” said someone with a deep, relaxed voice. “Lorelei here reacts to Lydia touching him just as you suspected.” Alex twisted to look to his right. He saw Lorelei there, chained to the floor and muzzled. Standing over her was the man Lydia had been with at the restaurant…only different. Something was different about him. He looked more imposing now. He wore a purple dress shirt and black slacks, with neither tie nor jewelry. Alex saw the smoky

blackness of his eyes as the man licked his fingers. Lorelei’s eyes were full of a dozen different things. The muzzle prevented her from giving voice to any of them. “Your name is Alexander Carlisle,” said the distinguished-looking man in the suit. “You are roughly two months short of your twentieth birthday. You are a student at North Seattle Community College and a part-time file clerk for Keating and Rose. You live with your mother, Michel e Carlisle. You were rejected for military service immediately after you graduated from high school. Need I go on?” Alex remained silent. He glared at the speaker in part to avoid looking at Lydia. “No, I need not. You are rightly quite fearful for your mother’s safety at the moment. However, she is not a part of this, and I need you to focus instead on Lorelei here and how the two of you came together.” He pul ed a picture out of his pocket and showed it to him. “Do you know this man?” Alex closed his eyes, frowning, wondering what if anything he should say. Instead, the choice was taken away from him. “Ah. I see. You do not, at least not personal y, but you fought with him the night you met Lorelei and—” Stefan cut himself off. He was silent for a moment as if watching something unfold on a television in front of him, rather than looking at Alex. “And you watched him die,” Stefan went on then. “Lorelei kil ed him. His assistants died, too. Everything burned.” At that, Alex’s eyes opened wide. Stefan was looking almost through him. Alex realized that Stefan was reading things straight from his mind. He also realized that Stefan was only giving an edited account of what Alex remembered. “I was correct,” Stefan said, looking from Lydia to Baal. “Our exiled former Brother did indeed pursue his research. He summoned up Lorelei here in an attempt to enslave her. Carlisle was in the area pursuing some unrelated foolishness. He saw what he thought was a bizarre gang rape about to occur and so he intervened. In the process, he was connected to the succubus. He is currently both her victim and her master.”