Solomon's Sieve (24 page)

The Sovereign looked Torn over. “Orders from the top. We all have somebody we have to answer to. On this mission you’ll be taking your orders from the expert who’s being sent to the scene to act on behalf of The Order.”

Torn’s lips pressed together. ”’Tis ox leavin’s,
Sovereign
.” He used the term ‘sovereign’ sarcastically and with a belligerence that could get him brigged and fined. ’Tis about what happened in Caracas, right? Time to let that go. ‘Twas a long time back and a joke to boot.”

Rev was hit with splashes of wild color and a memory of being so sick he almost doubled over just from recalling it. He’d been getting steadily better at handling the random remnants of experience his brain had retained. That particular incident must have been a doozy to elicit such a big visceral reaction. He wondered what those animals had done to Rev Farthing in Caracas in another lifetime unknown to him.

“No,” he said evenly as the unpleasant feelings began to fade. He rose from his chair slowly and deliberately in a display of authority before placing his palms on his desk. “It’s not about Caracas. It’s about orders.”

Glen stood and stepped in front of Torn. “Sir Finngarick forgot himself and got carried away in the disappointment of being denied an immediate return to hunter duty, sir. It won’t happen again.”

Rev looked from Glen to Torn and back again. He decided the best option was to allow Glen to defuse. “You’ll probably be gone three days, but it could take longer. Pack accordingly. You know the drill.” Rev turned toward his computer screen. When no one moved, he looked at them each individually before saying, “Dismissed.”

When they were a few feet down the hall, Torn turned on Glen. “What was that kiss ass routine, rookie? And whatever gave you the idea that you fuckin’ speak for me?”

What happened next was the last thing in the world that Torn was expecting. Glen placed his palm on Torn’s collar bone and shoved him back against the wall. Hard. That apparently effortless move, was accompanied by the low level werewolf snarl that never failed to raise the hair follicles of everyone within earshot.

The next words that came out of Glen’s mouth were half spoken, half growled.

“Don’t talk to me like that, Elf. I’m not a trainee anymore. And don’t even think about being disrespectful to a superior again. I don’t care if you have a history. You better get your shit together before you make me sorry I threw in with you.”

When Glen released Torn and stepped back, Gun laughed into his hand and said, “Yeah. What he said,” which only served to infuriate Glen further.

Glen wheeled on him. “Shut it, Gun. You were the one tasked with defusing this redheaded powder keg.” He jerked his head toward Torn. “Where were you in there? The situation had one leg hanging off a cliff. I gave you plenty of time to step in and handle it, but what? You pussied out? Had a petit mal seizure? You scared of this elf?”

Gun was starting to grasp that his new role wasn’t a figurehead, that it had teeth and he was supposed to be using them. The realization that the kid had just done the job he was assigned, after he failed to do it, was a creeping humiliation that was manifesting in the reddening of his face. “Now look…”

“Nuh-uh. You’re the one looking right now. You want me to play the role of newbie. Sure. I’m your guy. But only if you’re walking the walk.” He looked over his three team mates. “You want me to respect you? Defer to you? Maybe even admire you? Then start acting like
admirable
Black Swan knights.”

It was that scene that Litha came upon. Glen faced off against the rest of his new team just royally dressed down by him. She appeared in the hallway where she was to meet Glen and pick him up, and was now looking at the four of them with apprehension.

“Glen? You ready?”

Hearing the soft voice behind him, he watched three pairs of eyes shift their focus away from him. He didn’t turn around immediately, but relaxed his shoulders while continuing the stare down with Z Team. Without looking away from them he let his face morph into a genuine smile right before he said, in fully human tones, “Yes, ma’am. I am. You’re right on time.”

If the three weren’t already speechless, they would have been after seeing Glen turn and saunter over to the beautiful green-eyed witch. He submitted his left wrist while leaving his right thumb hooked in his back pocket. While they watched, Litha snapped the other half of the purple fleece lined handcuffs on Glen just before they disappeared.

Raif whistled softly while Gunnar turned to Torn. “I think you’d better not call him rookie again.”

Torn gave him a look that could kill. “Shut it, Gun.”

“Come on, Irish,” Raif said. “You know he’s right. Time for us to grow up maybe. Yeah? Fuck of a thing that it takes a kid going all righteous on us to point it out. “

Torn stared at Raif. “Maybe.” He gave Gun a little crooked grin. “But if I’m steppin’ over a line, you’ll be catchin’ fire from Wolfboy right along with me.”

“Yeah.” Gun nodded like he was seriously contemplating one scenario after another. “You could look at it like that. Or you could just come to the understanding that it’s embarrassing for you to have not one, but two babysitters.”

Torn’s grin fell. Raif laughed softly and pushed with his shoulder as he nudged by.

“Fuckers.” Torn looked and sounded like a teenager who’d just been grounded.

The Black Swan Vineyard, Napa Valley

Glen didn’t have time to assess Litha’s mood in the passes, but as soon as they reached the vineyard and unhooked, he could see something was wrong. She’d brought them straight to the kitchen where an aproned Storm was stirring something that smelled like marinara.

“Something wrong, Litha?”

If Storm had looked over before Glen had voiced the question, he wouldn’t have needed to ask. The look on his face said it all, but it was punctuated by a shake of his head.

“Nothing at all,” she said with a coolness that didn’t quite pass for nonchalance. “Why do you ask?”

Storm shook his head again and turned back to the stove. You wouldn’t have to be trained to read signals like a Black Swan knight to know that Litha was lying.

“Why do I ask? Well, it could be the look on your face or the tone of your voice. Or it might be the fact that every single muscle in your body is tight as can be.”

“Hey!” Storm turned and pointed the spoon at him. “You don’t need to be looking so closely that you’re making judgments about the state of my wife’s muscles.”

“Sorry, Litha. No offense intended.”

She glared at Storm and clenched her teeth. “None taken.”

Behind her back, Glen held up his hands as if to say, “What gives?”

“Got the word today that retired knights have been recalled to duty.” He looked at Litha. “Temporarily.”

Glen could have kicked himself for not anticipating that Storm being in danger could be a sensitive subject with Litha after all she’d been through. Glen nodded at Storm almost imperceptibly and walked up behind Litha.

He almost whispered to her back. “Would it be better if I come another night?”

Litha turned around and looked at the spot where Glen’s eyes were supposed to be. Then her gaze traveled upward. “When did you get so tall? And, don’t be silly. I’m not taking you back until I’ve stuffed you with pasta and grilled you about my baby.”

Glen looked at Storm for an indication of what to do next. Storm just shrugged and gestured for him to sit down at the table.

“You know,” she began, “you weren’t the only cute one in the hallway.”

Glen looked from Litha to Storm, who had tuned into the conversation with an extra dose of interest. “What is she talking about?” he asked Glen like it was an accusation.

Litha knew it was mean to try to rile Storm’s jealous tendencies, but she was feeling extra ornery. Before Glen could answer she jumped in. “Who’s the edgy one with the dreamy pale blue eyes and the tribal tattoos?”

Storm gaped. “Dreamy blue eyes?” He looked at Glen like he thought Glen had set Litha up on a blind date. Then his brain cleared enough to register the rest of it. “Did you say tattoos? Since when do you like tattoos?”

She didn’t look at Storm, but raised a shoulder prettily and left her answer at that. The cell phone she’d left on the kitchen bar rang. Storm looked over at it and announced, “It’s Elora.”

Normally she would think it was rude to leave a dinner guest to take a phone call, but made an exception for Elora. “I’ll take it in the other room.”

“Hi.” She answered while walking toward the back of the house.

“Just calling to check on you. You seemed pretty upset.”

“You’re not?”

“Well, yes. Of course it’s not ideal, but it’s temporary.”

Litha clenched her teeth involuntarily. “If I hear that word one more time today…”

“Which word? Temporary?”

“Ugh!”

“Okay. So what’s your biggest fear?”

Litha stopped dead still. “You want me to say that out loud?”

“Well, since I’m not Song, that’s the only way I’m going to know the answer.”

“I don’t think I should. It might be inviting, I don’t know, inviting… you know.”

“No I don’t. Are you trying to tell me that you’re superstitious?”

“I think superstitious is a weird word for somebody who works for Black Swan to use. Don’t you? Really?”

“Okay. Let me start over. Do you have reason to believe that saying something out loud will make it happen?”

“Yes. Sort of. I’m not sure.”

“Way to be decisive.”

“Fuck off.”

“Litha!” Elora started laughing because Litha didn’t normally use language like that and it sounded really out of place coming from her.

“Okay. Here it is.”

Elora waited for a full minute. “Where it is?”

“I’m working on it. Don’t rush me.” Elora started humming the Jeopardy clock ditty. “I’m afraid a vampire will…”

When it became clear Litha wasn’t going to finish the sentence, Elora said, “Bite him. You’re afraid he’ll be bitten by a vampire, turn into one, and have to be put down.” Litha’s silence was confirmation enough. “That’s what I thought. See? Here’s the thing. You’re thinking like a human.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re going to know when Storm is on patrol because you’re going to move in here with him until this is over. Right?”

“I hadn’t thought about it. I guess so.”

“So you know when he’s out on patrol. You could follow him. You could stay in the pass so that he’s visible to you, but you’re not visible to him. Or you could weave a protection spell or something like that, right?”

“Elora. If you were here I would have to give you a big kiss.”

“No, you would not. Rammel has my lips so swollen they look bee stung. I don’t need any more kisses today.”

“Too much information. But I love you. And I thank you. You may have saved my marriage.”

“Well, as someone once said to me, I live to serve.”

“If not my marriage, at least dinner. Glen is here. We’re going to try to get to the bottom of why Rosie is AWOL. Call you tomorrow.”

When Litha came back to the kitchen, she was a different person. She breezed in with a radiant smile, gave Storm a big “mwah” kiss on the cheek and asked what she could do to help get dinner on the table.

Storm was stunned and relieved at the same time. He didn’t know what Elora said to his wife, but she had wrought a bona fide miracle. He didn’t dare ask Litha about the change of heart for fear that she might be reminded that she’d been leagues past pissed just minutes before.

With a nonchalance that took acting skills, Storm loaded a giant bowl of fettuccini with thick meat sauce and handed it to Glen, who practically put his face in the food. Litha giggled at the way their guest was inhaling the spicy aroma and making nummy sounds, while shaving fresh parmesan slices onto the Caesar salad she’d just finished tossing.

“It’s nice to have you here, Glen,” she said turning back to the salad.

He set his bowl down at the chair where he had always parked it for Thursday night dinners and straightened up to look over at Litha. “Yeah,” he nodded. “I’ve missed this.”

Storm shut down his cooking station, took off his apron and grabbed the remaining two bowls for himself and Litha. “Sit,” he ordered, gesturing toward Glen with one of the bowls he carried. When all three were seated Storm poured Pino Noir into their glasses.

Glen took a sip. “Hmmm. Not bad. I wonder if this is a local wine,” he teased.

“Not bad, you say? I challenge you to find better anywhere at any price. We could charge ten times as much for this wine, but we like the idea of knowing a lot of people can afford to open it for a typical Thursday night in the kitchen.”

“A man of the people.” Glen held up his glass in a toast.

“Hear, hear.” Litha joined in raising her glass.