Solomon's Sieve (29 page)

“You’re right about the view. It’s an orangeade sky.”

“What’s an orangeade?”

Raif was glad Gunnar asked the question. He wanted to hear the answer, but didn’t want to openly express that much interest in what the babe thought.

“Hmmm.” She finished her swallow of wine cooler. “I did my undergrad at Duke. My roommate, Squoozie, was from Texas. Down there they have a soda called Orangeade. When she drove her car to school every Fall, she’d fill it up with cases of Orangeade and have her clothes shipped.” Mercy chuckled as she seemed to be recalling good times.

Glen had perked up when she said her roommate’s name. “Her last name wouldn’t be Caelian, would it?”

Mercy’s eyes widened. “Yes! How did you know that?”

“Well, to be fair, how many Squoozies from Texas could there really be? I know her brother. He works for Black Swan.”

“Kay?” Torn asked.

“The same,” said Glen.

“Small world.” Torn grasped the hurricane glass they had brought his margarita in and took a drink. In a simultaneous flash of impressive coordination, Torn retracted his legs, sat up, and spewed alcoholic beverage on the inner terrace floor. Then half-yelled a disgusted, “Aaah.”

“Serves you right for ordering a margarita in a French owned Bulgarian hotel, dumb ass.” Gunnar laughed and Raif joined him, enjoying the boorish spectacle more than he should. “At least you managed to aim
away
from us for a change. The last time… Chinese restaurant in Toronto, wasn’t it? …I walked away with a mixture of tequila and elf spit all over my front.” Gunnar turned to Glen chuckling and slapped him on the back. “Come to think of it, you should have seen what happened the first time the young werewolf had black beer! That time it was Torn who was getting the old bar towel wipe down.”

Mercy’s gaze snapped to Glen. “Werewolf?”

“Blah.” Torn stuck out his tongue like he thought airing it out would take the offending taste away. “What would you be doin’ if you had somethin’ unbelievably disgustin’ in your mouth?”

Torn knew exactly what Raif and Gunnar were thinking by the way they looked down at their shoes and smiled without saying a word. He was glad they both decided on the polite choice - keeping that thought to themselves.

“You’re not ready for civilized company, brother.” Gunnar glanced at Mercy and gave him a reproving look.

Torn looked at Mercy. “Aye. ‘Tis true enough. Beg your forgiveness, my lady.”

Mercy laughed partly because of the ‘lady’ reference and partly because the beautiful elf was bursting with sexual ardor and magnetism powerful enough to charm the clothes off a girl in public before she even knew she was undressing. The werewolf thing was probably an inside joke.

Glen had been looking at his guide book. “Listen to this. The Beglik Tash. The unique Thracian sanctuary Beglik Tash was discovered in 2003, only thirty km south of Sozopol. It’s the earliest Thracian megalith sanctuary along the Black Sea coast. Research has proven that there’s been constant human occupation since the end of the Bronze age. It’s basically a cult temple to fertility.”

He put the guide book down. “Oh come on. We have to go! Haven’t you always wanted to stand in the middle of an ancient fertility temple?”

Gun and Torn looked at each other and burst into laughter. Mercy noticed that Raif just looked away.

When Torn quieted, he said, “No, Glen, I can no’ say that I have
always
wanted that. Nor can I begin to understand why you would want that. Most of the handsome virile lads I know are wantin’ to avoid fertility at any cost.” He punctuated that with a wink thrown Mercy’s way. She turned her head and worked at hiding a smile because she didn’t want Glen to think she was laughing at him.

“Yeah?” Glen said. “Well, most of the handsome virile lads you know don’t have two brain cells to rub together.”

Torn chuckled. “True enough, younger brother. You’ve go’ me there.”

CHAPTER 16

BLACK SWAN FIELD TRAINING MANUAL Chapter 28, #17

Hunter Division personnel are expected to be flexible of body and mind. At times resourcefulness may be a knight’s greatest asset. The ability to improvise when necessary is a trait highly prized by The Order.

When it came down to the first night that Storm was joining patrol rotation, Litha had come to the conclusion that she just couldn’t do it. She couldn’t construct a rationalization big enough or intricate enough or delusional enough to justify spying on her husband. But by the time the dreaded day of first patrol after retirement rolled around, she’d calmed down enough to be at peace with the fact that she’d fallen in love with a famous vampire hunter, who might just have a couple more hunts left in him. After all, he wasn’t yet thirty years old. On the one hand, she thought, if he was a surgeon, he’d still be years away from beginning his career. On the other hand, if he was a pro athlete, he’d be long washed up and put out to dry.

Kay gave Storm an amused look. “In some ways this feels more familiar
than watching TV with my wife.”

They were separating from Ram and Rev, going opposite ways in an alley. Storm looked back over his shoulder at Ram and Rev walking away. On a whim he called out, “Sol!”

Without hesitation, Rev turned and said, “Yeah?” The four of them stood frozen, Storm and Rev staring at each other, Kay and Ram looking back and forth between the two.

Let it never be said that Ram didn’t know how to handle a situation delicately. “What the fuck, Stormy?”

“You know, that’s a good question, Ram. And well put.” Storm didn’t take his eyes off Rev. “Something you want to tell us?”

Rev pursed his lips before growling. “No.”

“You sure?”

“You gone hard of hearing?”

Storm’s gaze was a concentrated challenge, pinning Rev in place, but he moved in close enough for quiet conversation.

“How about clueing us in, brother?” Kay was as calm as the eye of a hurricane as he nudged Storm. “What’s going on here?”

“Has it seemed to you that there are things about the new Sovereign that seem familiar? Eerily so?”

“Like what?” Ram asked as he eyed Rev from top to bottom.

“Oh, like the fact that he smokes the same brand of Turkish cigars that Sol used to smoke. And lights them with an old school fluid lighter. Then he puts the lighter down in front of him and turns it around and around the same way Sol used to.” Kay turned his attention toward Rev and began regarding him with increased interest. “How about the way he screws up his mouth when he’s aggravated or the way he steeples his fingers when he’s making a decision?”

Rev lifted his chin in defiance and narrowed his eyes at Storm. “And let’s not forget the fact that he took a bead on Farnsworth about thirty seconds after arriving at Jefferson Unit. Doesn’t it strike you as a little strange that he handles Sol’s job like he knows what he’s doing? No. Not like he knows what he’s doing. Like he’s done it before!”

Ram eased around in front of Rev so that the three veteran members of B Team appeared united as the inquisitors they had just become. They stood in a dimly lit alley with accusation hanging in the air, waiting for Rev to answer.

“Your imagination’s just got the better of you, Sir Storm.”

“There! Right there. I never met another knight who called me
Sir
Storm. But Sol did.” Storm glanced at Kay. “All the time. Called me Mr. Storm when I was a kid. Switched to Sir Storm when I was inducted.” He stepped closer to Rev. “When I called Sol’s name, you turned around like you’d been answering to that name your whole life.”

Ram and Kay were giving Rev looks that said the questions weren’t going to go away just by staring Storm down. Finally Rev replied with the cool of an iceberg. “So what are you saying? Exactly? That I’m a body snatcher?”

“What I’m doing right now is asking questions.”

“I don’t have answers for you.”

“Is that because you don’t have an answer or because you can’t answer?” Rev gave nothing away. Storm blinked twice rapidly. “Well, then there’s no harm in sharing this with Simon and the Council.”

“NO!” Rev’s answer was a little too forceful and a little too quick.

“Start talking.”

Rev blew out a breath and looked around at the alley. ”Let’s go sit down somewhere private.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll buy a round of drinks and tell you a story. Not about me, mind you. A story about a guy I heard of.”

Rev hated the suspicious glances he caught in his peripheral vision as they walked in silence to the basement bar around the corner. Harry’s was dark and quiet. Cozy in a masculine sort of way with oak beams and big comfortable red leather booths. And they knew it well because it was also the sort of place where vampire liked to hang out when they’d hunted successfully and were high on some girl’s warm, rich Type O.

All four quickly scanned the room, as only veteran hunters would do. Within fifteen seconds any one of the four could have taken a pop quiz on how many people occupied the room, where they were, what they were doing, and something about what they looked like. Complimentary or not.

Ram veered off from the team and headed straight to the bar. He told them to pour four Irish whiskeys. The other three left room for him at one end of a big curved corner booth. He noticed they weren’t talking. Just waiting.

“Spirits on the way,” he said, sliding in.

Storm looked at Rev. “So? You were going to tell us a story? About a guy?”

Rev looked around the room knowing that stalling was futile. He’d used every step of the walk between the alley and the bar trying to decide the best way to get the knights to move on to another subject without losing claim to the fine young body he currently occupied. Of course, he knew they’d be pit bulls going for a bone until they were satisfied.

The bartender’s young helper arrived with a tray and began setting glasses in front of them. When he was gone, Storm turned to Rev. “Well?”

Rev looked up, “What was the question?”

Storm narrowed his eyes. “Kay. Weren’t you in my interrogation class?”

“I think so,” Kay said. “We were fifteen maybe? What about it?”

“Do you remember them teaching us that if a subject asked to have the question repeated it meant that they were stalling so they had time to work on the lie that they were about to tell?”

Kay looked at Rev with speculation. “You know, since you mention it, I do remember that.”

Rev took in a big breath and let it out forcefully. “All right, but don’t get bent out of shape about the back story. I have to set the stage.”

“Set the stage,” Storm said drily. Rev nodded. “Rammel. Are you keeping an eye on the patrons sharing this fine establishment?”

“On guard.” Ram’s seat on the end of the booth had the best view of the door and the room in general.

Looking back at Rev, Storm said, “By all means then, set the stage.”

“Do you believe in the afterlife?”

Storm and Kay exchanged glances. Ram said, “Great Paddy.”

Rev looked at Ram with lines formed between his brows. “Is that an answer?”

“Aye. O’course.”

“Okay. I’ll play along,” Storm said. “I wouldn’t say I ‘believe’, but I would say I’m keeping an open mind.”

Rev looked at Kay who said, “No. I think Elora’s fairy stories are likelier.”

“Elftales,” Ram corrected Kay with a small scowl forming between his brows. There might be a new politically correct way to think of his brother-in-law’s people, but old bias dies hard.

“Whatever,” Kay said. “We’re just a walking mass of electrical impulses. When the plug is pulled, we’re done.”

“Kind of a bleak outlook.” Rev was looking at Kay like he was surprised to hear that view coming from the big berserker.

“Works for me. So we’re really going to debate mythology?”

“One person’s mythology is somebody else’s religion.”

Kay opened his mouth to respond, but Storm cut him off. “Enough. Let’s get to the story. About a guy? Remember?”

“Yes. It’s related. So here goes.

“There was a guy who died and went to the, uh, afterlife. And it was nice enough, but he couldn’t enjoy it because he’d left unfinished business. Serious unfinished business.” Rev paused for a minute for that to soak in. “So he started kicking up a fuss. At first the people in charge ignored him, told him to take another hit of feel good and try to relax into the new digs. They said he’d adjust soon enough and everything would be hunky dory.”

Rev looked around the table. The knights were focused on what he was saying and waiting for him to get to the part where he started to either make sense or relate to any situation they could imagine.