No Deadly Thing

by Tiger Gray

  For a moment, Ashrinn felt a spike of self-loathing that lodged within him as surely as the bullets he'd taken. He couldn't get around the fact that the thought had a selfish sting. He knew, too, that he would do it anyway.

  "Do you remember, Mal?" By his friend's face, Mal thought he had another war yarn to spin. "In Tikrit?"

  Things Ashrinn couldn't quite name darkened his friend's expression. Mal looked wary now. That wariness made Ashrinn just as sober. Mal had looked at him as though he didn't know him only once, in the very situation that he'd had just referenced. The suspicion altering his features into a tight mask served as the shadow of that awed, terrified thing his expression had been then.

  "I remember. I also know that you aren't here just to shoot the shit with me, as nice as it is. I missed you, you know."

  Ashrinn took the halting reassurance as gratefully as a man in the desert takes a full canteen, though he didn't comment on it with more than an answering smile. Mal got up and set his glass on the sideboard, fussing with the bottles there.

  "So what do you want?"

  "I did something that day that shouldn't have been possible. I called on something I had no name for. Malkai." he said with a note of subtle command in his voice. His friend responded to it on an instinctual level and turned towards him. "Malkai, it has a name now."

  "What the hell are you babbling about?" Ashrinn knew, looking into Mal's bright, troubled eyes, that he had the right of it. His friend had been suppressing whatever gifts he'd been given. But why? Had his moment of transformation been that traumatic? What could scare a Unit operative that badly?

  "You must know about your wife," He tried, attacking the problem from the flank, "She's not human."

  Mal sighed, a heavy, full body sigh. He crumpled back on to the couch and rubbed at his face. "Yeah. I know." He struggled with himself for a moment, and Ashrinn shut up and let him. "She opened my eyes when we were first married."

  Ashrinn didn't bother hiding the fact that the comment made his brows raise; Mal knew him too well for anything but the most complete deception to function. He could well imagine the whirlwind of magic and sensation that must have swept Mal away in that moment; Ashrinn had only been in the woman's presence for five minutes and if he were less accustomed to beautiful, frightening women he would have been dry mouthed and unable to speak with both lust and fear.

  "What about you?" He schooled his tone to friendly non-judgment, trying to ease the tension. Speaking of magic openly felt like admitting to a pornography obsession, or that one really believed in alien abductions. Forbidden, scandalous, and in no small part barmy.

  "I don't know," Mal mumbled, looking at the carpet, "I'm just a human."

  Lies. Mal had never lied to him before now. He itched to know what had happened to his friend, but to ask about another paladin's baptism of fire had a heavy stigma attached to it. Certainly he and Mal were close enough, though?

  "Come on," Ashrinn said, gentle but firm, "be honest with me."

  Mal hid his face in his hands. Ashrinn once more felt like an utter bastard. Mal looked up at the ceiling, then at him.

  "You always did have a way of stirring shit, didn't you?"

  Ashrinn said nothing.

  Mal continued. "You know why you were a good leader, at least to me? Because whenever we were sent out into combat, I trusted you to have things in hand. You were always in complete control. You cared about us. I hope to hell you're coming here in that same spirit, because otherwise I'll knock you out, you bastard."

  "Mal. Look. I've been watching you, and I think you're like me; divinely chosen." He put his hand up to fend off the scathing retort he knew Mal had ready. "Hear me out. It sounded crazy to me when I first heard it too. Bollocks, it still does. At the same time, I can't deny my own senses." He gulped the whiskey sloshing in the glass he still held. "You already know some about Fae. Well, there's a whole world out there. I've been learning so much since I was found."

  "What do you mean, found?"

  "There's a man by the name of Randolph del Sar, and he's taken it upon himself to form and lead the arm of the magical police in the Pacific Northwest. Hell, I guess we're the government, too, in so far as any such thing exists. That stunt I pulled in Tikrit caught his eye, because he appeared to me and told my I'm a bloody paladin, of all things. But it's true. I can see things I've never seen, do things that everything in the mundane world says are impossible. "

  "What, you think I'm... like that?"

  "Your magical signature is so faint. You've been repressing it."

  "Maybe I don't want to be some kind of super-powered preacher," Mal said, as sulky as a small boy, "I had enough fire and brimstone when I was a kid."

  "It's not like that, Mal, I swear. We're all supposed to be scholars of a religion of our choice, but only so we can understand where the human need to believe comes from. We all, regardless of the kind of powers our version of divinity has given us, follow basic principles above all else. Integrity. Compassion. Forthrightness. Fairness. A good paladin has to be culturally sensitive, fair minded, combat competent."

  "You sound like a fucking recruiter. You've got the fever bad."

  "Hell with you. I'm no zealot. But I'm bloody well bored. Don't tell me you're not. Don't tell me you've given up on wanting to make a difference."

  "I was more idealistic than you when I joined the military," Mal reminded him hotly, "and what did it get me? I'm good at it but sometimes I fucking hated it, having to jump to some idiot regular Army goon's tune. Even in the Unit there was too much of that shit at the end. I'm sick of it. I've got a family to look after."

  He knew Mal's anger all too well. Watching civilians starve, or being gunned down. Friends and fellows dying. Giving and giving until you bled, then the military blithely asking for more. Or worse, tying your hands after spending untold resources on training you, and for what?

  "It's not the same. I hated the military too. More than you did. You were a middle-class white kid from Texas, who played star football. You were everyone's darling, and you joined up because it was your dream. I just signed up because my father was holding a gun to me."

  "Do I detect bitterness, you fucking Arab?"

  Any other man, and Ashrinn would have broken his nose. Since it was Mal that had said it, the comment served to break the tension and he doubled over laughing. Mal couldn't help but join in. For a moment it seemed as though everything would be all right between them.

  "So," Mal said when the mirth had passed, "that's why you're here, to get me in on this craziness."

  "I'll be straight with you. If I'm going to do this, I want you with me. We've been together through every damn thing the enemy threw at us, and then some. This is a chance to really do good. You can walk away. Just because the divine has chosen you doesn't mean you have to do anything about it. Men have free will in these matters. But if I know you, that call is driving you mad." He leaned forward, meeting Mal's eyes with his most intense gaze. "I need you, Mal. Think about it."

  Ashrinn stood up and thunked his now empty glass down on the sideboard. It was late and he knew that Kiriana was going to be furious when he got home, but the tumbler of liquor he'd just downed eased his worry. Reckless defiance made him swallow the excuse he would have made to get out and get home. Just a little while longer.

  Ashrinn faced Mal, resisting the urge to pour a second glass. "I've got a special ops squad forming up, but the regular paladin troops need you. You've always been better at large scale troop maneuvers, and frankly, the whole operation is just so much grab-assery at the moment."

  "I'll have to talk to Rai about it." Mal paused and Ashrinn sensed something ugly in the air. "I guess you should know that Rosi is sick again."

  Ashrinn's stomach flung itself off the highest ledge it could find. What remained tried to ooze out of his boots. Mal had never been given to emotional displays, but the few times he'd wept in Ashrinn's presence it had been because his little girl might not make it, and he had
to be trapped in the sandbox instead of at her bedside.

  "Fuck, Malkai. I'm so sorry."

  He didn't say the things swirling in his brain --- I shouldn't have come here, I'm a selfish ass, just forget everything I said --- but he dearly wanted to. Mal drew a deep breath, held it. Ashrinn knew the battle against tears had started.

  "Talasi --- friend of the family --- thinks it's something to do with her Changeling blood. Taking a mundane condition and making it worse. If the disease doesn't kill her, the drugs will."

  He sat down across from Mal again. His bones felt made of lead. "There's no magic that can help?"

  "What magic? Rai can't do anything. Her blood might be what caused the problem in the first place, and Rosi could have an allergic reaction to her powers. That will kill her. She's been getting transfusions but the human blood doesn't help as much as it would if she were normal."

  "I could do it."

  The words escaped before he could slap leashes on them. Mal looked up at him with such naked hope that he felt ill.

  "What? You mean you can heal?"

  "Not exactly. Paladin healing is dangerous. You crawl inside the person you're healing, feel what they do. You can lose yourself, get bound up and go mad from pain and the loss of self. Needless to say, I am not very good at keeping those boundaries solid. But my blood. Well. My awakening changed it. It could help."

  He'd felt a renewed sense of health himself, since he'd changed. Maybe he could pass some of that on to Rosi. Mal stared at him. It hurt to see brave, unshakeable Mal so pale and in pain. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were blackmailing me."

  The accusation hurt worse. "Mal..."

  "You're not. I know you're not." Mal stood, offered a hand. Ashrinn took it. "Thank you. We'll have you talk to the nurses, if you're serious. This blood shit is all too complicated for me, but they'll know if it will work."

  He got the feeling, in that second, that Mal had already made up his mind about joining up. He dropped a hand onto Mal's shoulder. An affectionate squeeze and he withdrew, back down the dark hallway and through the door, to the garage this time.

  He passed a vehicle shrouded in a tarp, took note of tools hung on the wall, then out into the night. For a moment he stood in front of Mal's house and watched the empty street. He slipped through his own front door a few moments later.

  "Where have you been?"

  The words backed him up against the door he'd just closed, pinning him in place as surely as a physical attack.

  Kiriana had that look, the one she got when she was trapped between fury and trying to maintain an acceptable public face. Her features were schooled into a neat mask, but her eyes were hollow, shadowed.

  "Just visiting, Kir," he told her, trying to meet and overtake her efforts at being bland. "It's been a long time."

  "You've been out longer than I expected, dear husband," she hissed. When had that happened? When had he started shuddering at terms of endearment?

  "Kir, Rosi is sick again. Mal needed me."

  "What are you supposed to do about it?"

  He tried to hide his incredulity. Talk to him? Offer support? Wasn't that obvious? "I might be a viable blood donor, now that I'm a paladin. I'm universal as it is." He'd have to tell her about the transfusion sometime. It might as well be now.

  She advanced on him, flexing her hands as though she wanted to ball them into fists. "You shouldn't have agreed to such a thing without permission! Without asking," she amended. In seconds her voice went from cruel lash to placating purr. "It's a big decision, don't you think?"

  He wondered if she would close the remaining distance between them. He twitched with the urge to shield himself, but he kept his hands at his sides. He knew why she was upset. If he'd signed up for regular transfusions, he would have to be reasonably healthy or people would ask questions when he failed the pre-screening. Kiriana resented living by anyone else's schedule.

  "I suppose you're right," he said, in the same tone he would have used to soothe an aggressive animal, "I apologize."

  He recognized the indulgent look a parent might give a particularly dim child. She crossed the space and embraced him. He hugged her in return automatically, hoping she would miss his relieved exhale. "Well, that's all right. It's good of you to be so charitable. To a Changeling, I mean."

  A brief flare of annoyance. He might not know much about magical politics, but he didn't miss the note of prejudice in Kiriana's voice. So she didn't approve of mixed breeding. He loved Rosi and she was Mal's daughter, but self-preservation won out and he said nothing.

  "Nothing could make you leave me, could it?" He detected a note of real insecurity.

  "Of course not. You've nothing to worry about." He closed his eyes, muttering a fervent internal prayer. "Just good old me, being charitable."

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  "Don't like you much right now," Mal said, watching the road so he wouldn't have to look at Ashrinn folded awkwardly into the passenger seat. If he looked, his friend's mournful expression might cool his anger, and Mal wanted to vent his spleen a little longer. He knew damn well he'd been neatly manipulated.

  "Yes," Ashrinn turned to stare out the window. "I know."

  Mal tried to pick a good insult and failed. That annoyed him even more. Being pissed off at his friend ought to feel better than this. "You're not making this any fun for me, you fucker."

  Ashrinn didn't say anything. After a few moments Mal sighed and made a stab at peace.

  "You remember that letter I was reading, when you first turned up?"

  "Darkened your doorstep, you mean." Ashrinn's voice had tentative humor in it.

  "Wasn't going to say it. Anyway. It was from Masters." Mal remembered their teammate, and his uncanny ability to find his way through any kind of terrain, moving silently even though he was big as a bear and black as the ace of spades.

  "Really? My last letter was from Serwin."

  Ashrinn's best friend from London. Mal stifled a groan. Serwin hadn't been the best influence in the world.

  It must have shown on his face, though, because Ashrinn said, "Oh come off it, Malkai. We're past the days of Minor Threat and window breaking."

  "You might be."

  "Relax. He's not due to visit for a while yet."

  "Thank the Lord Jesus for small mercies."

  "How is Harry, anyway?"

  Mal let Ashrinn change the subject. "Set up to be a lifer. He loves it too much."

  "Some love affair."

  "That mistress runs hot and cold," Mal allowed, "that's for certain sure. Hey, you only hurt the ones you love, I guess."

  "If that's true I'm fair drowning in it," Ashrinn said in that sardonic tone Mal knew so well. Awkward silence, though Mal couldn't quite figure why it had descended this time. Just as he was trying to come up with something to break it, Ashrinn beat him to it.

  "This can be different though, Mal." His voice had softened, shaded with pitiful hope. Mal understood then how badly Ashrinn needed this. "It can be better, maybe."

  Mal felt himself get tugged along by Ashrinn's faith. Again. How the bastard could always charm him into doing the craziest shit was beyond his reckoning.

  "We can build this thing from the ground up," Ashrinn finished.

  Mal cracked his first smile of the morning. He concentrated on the feel of the steering wheel under his hands as they hit the long stretch of Highway 99 that would take them through Everett.

  "So," Mal said. "What do you put in your ruck when you're going to be fighting dragons?"

  "One hell of an RPG, that's what."

  Mal felt cold; Ashrinn was only half joking.

  "Don't worry. They're not very common."

  Dragons. In the name of the Risen Jesus, talk about a sobering thought. "You a dragon expert now?"

  "I've had a class or two. We are expected to be scholars, after all."

  "You promise me some good old fashioned operating, and what I get is book learning?"

 
; "I know for a fact you liked school, Malkai Tielhart. You only talk like that so people will think you're stupid."

  "I'm not above thickening up the accent to put people off balance, but plenty of it is just how I came up. It's like how you talk like a queer all the time."

  "Oh, excuse me for having thoughts generally more poetic than, golly gee I sure love Wild Turkey and mayonnaise sandwiches."

  Mal laughed, and the last of his surly mood disappeared. He had to allow that with the sick kid and the unhappy wife, maybe he needed something to distract him. And this was pretty good, ribbing Ashrinn like old times. He wanted to be out in the field with him again. "So what's the enemy all about?"

  "A cult. Randolph will give us the full briefing. I've passed my courses; now is as good a time as any."

  "Courses? Like stress tests and psych evals? I haven't done any of that for this guy."

  "Which is why you need someone to put you through your paces."

  Uh oh.

  "Huh. And just who is going to do that?"

  Ashrinn turned to him, showing his teeth like the Cheshire Cat. He didn't even have the decency to look ashamed of himself.

  "Me."

  * * *

  "Tielhart. Pleasure to meet the man himself. Ashrinn speaks very highly of you."

  Mal looked over at Ashrinn as Randolph spoke. His friend had all the energy of a puppy wagging its tail. Ashrinn wanted him on board with this, and bad.

  Sometimes I think he's the Devil himself, coming around to tempt me. And I keep taking his damn deals.

  Mal assessed Randolph as the man moved from behind his desk. They shook hands. Randolph's had calluses like his own. That surprised the hell out of him. He'd already started to form a sneaky bad opinion, just based on the clothes and jewelry.

  Either work or a weapon. He's not just a suit. Mal hid his amusement. Even if those rings make him look like an extra in Goodfellas.