My Familiar Stranger (33 page)

Wednesday night Baka made eye contact on one of his breaks. Looking around to make sure no one was watching, he gave her a beguiling, teasing smile with just the slightest peek of fang. In response she turned her right side to him, brought her foot up to rest on the seat of a chair, looked around to make sure no one was watching, then raised her skirt enough to flash the garter that held the splat pistol all while returning his smile with a wicked twist. He retracted his fangs and laughed. And, damn, if laughter didn’t look good on him.

The phrase ‘flirting with disaster’ came to mind. Prudent or not, she enjoyed the heady rush she got from Baka’s attention.

B Team worked for three nights without incident, falling into a routine. The fourth day was Thursday, one of their days off. On Wednesday Ram asked if she would like to spend Thursday with him. She said she had already promised the day to Storm. He had agreed to do two things on her Break Out List: go shopping at the mall and teach her how to drive.

“He’s takin' you shoppin' at a suburb mall and teachin' you to drive? Okay.” Ram shook his head. “Better him than me.” Elora gave him a pretend punch in the bicep. “Sunday. Give me Sunday.”

“Sure.”

“What touches your fancy?”

“Surprise me.”

“My pleasure. Ten thirty. Street clothes.”

Elora’s driving lesson was filled with the usual frustrations for both driver and teacher, but the trip to the mall went better. Storm owned a sports car that had been modified for his long legs, but suspected that Elora would need cargo space for packages so he borrowed a large SUV. The mall shops were on three levels. They explored the map so they could narrow the choices down to a few stores. They hit Ann Taylor, lululemon, J. Crew, Shoecolate and stopped at Starbucks for a hot chocolate.

When Elora wanted to spend time at Victoria’s Secret, Storm decided he would be drop the purchases at the car and wait for her at the food court.

She shopped for lingerie that felt good, function plus comfort. If it also looked good, well, icing on the cake. Last, she splurged on a costly, but sublimely soft, all-purpose, angel white robe.

When she turned the corner of the food court her eyes immediately locked on Storm looking so out of place, sitting in a chair that was too-small for his big body in front of a Formica top table amid strollers, spilled popcorn, and screaming toddlers. How surprised passersby would be to know that a real live knight, who keeps their children safe at night, was sitting there looking lost in front of the Panda Express. And she liked him all the more for spending his day off doing things to please her.

She dumped the packages next to him and asked if she could get him something to eat. He looked around, sniffed in a semi-superior way, and said, “Thank you, but I’ll hold out for something edible.”

It seemed that Storm had gotten used to the VIP treatment The Order showers on active operatives. Edible meant dinner reservations at a small inn with a five star restaurant. Fortunately they didn’t have a coat and tie policy, but probably would have let him get by in street clothes regardless.

The food, appointments, and service were no better than the Mess where they ate every day, but this place had the advantage of dinner alone with Elora. Even if it wasn’t going to end with a kiss, at least it was a night when he could have her all to himself.

They easily slipped back into the comfortable, relaxed way they had conversed with each other daily when Elora was in recovery. They talked about books they liked and why they liked them. She caught him up on gossip she heard from Elsbeth while he marveled that there was a whole underbelly of speculative discussion going on without him having knowledge of any of it. He said he missed their chess games and worried constantly about the danger she was in as a member of B Team to which she said, “You just take care of yourself. I’ve got my back and yours, too.”

Over chocolate mousse and coffee, he grew quiet and pensive. “Something wrong?”

“No. Just trying to figure out how to say this. I guess the best way is just to come out with it.” He took a deep breath like he was building confidence. “I want you to know I have feelings for you, the kind that Order policy prevents me from expressing adequately. I don’t want to put you in a position of violating a pledge, so I’m not expecting a response. I just need you to know that things would be different if…things were different.”

The only thing about this confession that was surprising to Elora was the vocalization. She looked at Storm solemnly so he would know she took it seriously. Her only reaction was a slight nod followed by downcast eyes. He took that to mean that she agreed it was best not to talk about it so he changed the subject.

“Got one more surprise.”

“What?” She perked up.

“Sanction is on duty tonight. We have an empty seat at the Thursday night poker game if you want to play.”

“You sure that’s okay with the others?”

“Yep. They say they’re just as happy to take your money as his.”

She laughed. “Yes. Well, I wish I could say that wasn’t the probable outcome. What time is the game?”

He looked at his watch. “Matter of fact, we better get going, Princess.”

The Thursday night game was held in a private room off the back of the lounge. On the way in they passed a little gathering watching a contest of darts.

“Ghost is the undisputed champion of darts. Kind of unusual for an American, but he spent a few years in Scotia. Every now and then somebody challenges him and odds get made, but you’d be crazy to bet against him.”

As they were passing by, Ghost looked up and pinned her with a stare which was unnerving as his eyes had the same identical lack of color as vampire. There may have been a flicker of malice before his expression melted into an affable smile, but she wasn’t sure she didn’t imagine it. She knew less about him than any other knight or trainee because he had declined training with her.

“I never asked how Ghost reacted. I mean, my taking Lan’s place on the team.”

Storm shrugged. “He wasn’t happy, but he took it like a man.” He cut a puckish smile her way when he said it.

She chuckled more to be accommodating than because she thought it was funny. “Hysterical.”

Truthfully, she wouldn’t blame Ghost if he did take it badly. It had to be hard looking so ghastly and being surrounded by men who could be Polo models. She doubted he had ever had a date. Certainly the dreadful looks were unfortunate, but then there was also an undeniable creep factor.

The table in the private poker room sat eight and six were already there. The table, itself, was a work of art, a rosewood octagon with ornately carved legs. The space was lit by an octagonal, low hanging stained glass Tiffany lamp; the ambience conveying an opulence that said, “If you need to ask how much to play, you don’t belong in this game.”

The room was equipped with a specially designed exhaust so that players could smoke without leaving stale smells or allowing tainted air to escape to other parts of the building.

Storm hadn’t mentioned that Ram was one of the regulars. As she took the seat opposite him, he gave her a look that said, “You know that no one knows you the way I do and it’s our secret.”

A couple of people who regular worked the lounge stayed late on Thursday nights for the extra tips they got serving players. There was a steady circuit of delivery of food or drink. Or aspirin in Finnemore’s case.

Elora’s rum and coke was served in a squat, crystal glass heavy enough to feel substantial in big, strong hands. They started a bar tab for her. Another first.

The dealer went over the customary rules and limits for her benefit. Then they all hunkered down for a night of cards. Elora had never seen Storm smoke before, but, when he lit a small, thin, black cigar, like the ones Sol smoked, she remembered the faint smell of cigar that night that she was carried to the infirmary with what was left of her face pressed against his chest.

When Storm had taught her how to play poker, he had figured out quickly that her face was too expressive to expect that she wouldn’t divulge her reaction to cards. So he had instructed her to go the other direction, pretending to be delighted, or smug, or confused by every hand so that no one watching would be able to discern a pattern of “tells”.

Storm would never have suggested including her if he thought she might be humiliated by her lack of experience, but he had learned while teaching her the game that she had “card sense”; an innate communion with the sacred geometry of playing cards that can’t be either taught or developed with practice. As he predicted, she did okay using the tips, tricks, and strategies he suggested along with some slight modifications of her own. She didn’t win, but she didn’t lose much either.

At one point she looked around and had the amusing thought that, like tales of Arthurian legend, she found herself sitting at a round table with knights bent on chivalry.

After three hours, there were five people still playing. At one point she and Ram were the only two in for a big pot. She looked across the dimly lit table and her breath caught. Ram had his chin tucked in and was watching her with eyes that smoldered like embers in the dim lamp light, fire reflected on water, and she knew that look had nothing to do with poker. That look said, “You know that no one will ever want you more than I do. And it’s our secret. For now.”

***

On Friday night Elora passed a note to the lead guitar and asked him to hand it off to the bassist. She turned around in time to see Baka take the note which read, “I understand you take requests. I’d like to hear ‘Love Bites’.” He laughed and looked up, searching the room until his gaze locked with hers. She thought smiling was a good look for him even though it never completely chased away the underlying sadness.

On Sunday morning Elora was standing at her door waiting for a knock which came at exactly ten thirty. It was an early December day on the cold side as a fresh norther had blown in from Canada overnight and wind was predicted. Ram insisted that Elora go back in for a warmer coat. He had arranged for a whister to take them into Manhattan, one of the job’s better perqs.

“Tell me where we’re going.”

“You said surprise you.”

“Come on,” she pleaded.

“Sightseein’,” he smiled. “Today we’re tourists. There’s more to New York than Notte Fuoco and Times Square.”

They were dropped at the 39th and 7th avenue pad and walked over to 5th Avenue. On the way by Grand Central Station they ducked in just so she had a visual for the reference, then headed up 5th toward the park. Manhattan is at her best at Yuletide the way a pretty woman is even prettier with make up on.

Elora window shopped every single store on the way. Any casual observer could have pointed her out as a tourist because the delight of discovery was plain on her face.

They stopped at Saks to look at the decorations in the display windows and then at Rockefeller Center to see the Yule tree and the ice skaters.

“Tis a tradition to get hot chocolate when you come to see the big tree.”

“I could learn to love tradition,” she smiled.

He snorted at that. “Very well. Let’s put that to the test and begin with women in the kitchen and knowin’ their place.”

She laughed and went to find a table by the rink where they could watch the skaters. Ram returned with the nectar of gods heated to perfection, set the cups down and sat next to her.

“This reminds me of Yule at home.” She looked a little wistful. “We always had a big tree – well, not as big as this.”

Ram went still. It was the first time she had ever made reference to her life before. “With lights and ornaments?”

She nodded. “The works. Does your family celebrate Yule?”

“Oh, aye. In a big way. They are very much into good times.”

“Well,” she looked at him affectionately, “that explains a lot.”

Ram smiled into his cup. Before they left, he handed his phone to a passerby and asked her to take a picture of the two of them in front of the tree and ice rink. They snuggled close, smiled big, and anyone who witnessed the taking of the photo would swear they were a couple in love.

When they reached The Plaza, Ram stood at the intersection pointing out the southeast end of the park with the carriages, the drivers heating themselves by fires burning in barrels, and the Sherry Netherland across the street.

“Oh that’s where…”

“Where what?”

“Um, I just heard nice things about it.”

He laughed. “Aye. ‘Tis probably the most costly hotel in this hemisphere.”

Ram hailed a cab to take them the rest of the way to the Metropolitan Museum. Elora said she wanted to try it the next time.

“Try what? The Sherry Netherland?”

“Ha! You wish. No, silly. Getting a taxi.”

“Oh. Aye.” He loved that she could find pleasure and adventure in such simple things.

On the way up Madison Avenue he told what he knew about the museum and said that this tour might be called a “taste of New York” as one day is not enough time to see very much of “the big apple”.