The Agency, Volume IV

by Dianne Sylvan

  Jason frowned. “Stop being so insightful. You remind me of my sister.”

  Lex laughed inwardly, but outwardly shrugged and said, “Don’t bring it up if you don’t want my opinion.”

  “We barely speak,” Jason said quietly. “I call, and he doesn’t answer. When he does he acts like he’d rather be anywhere else. How should I feel about that?”

  “Let’s see…Rowan’s the lone survivor of his Clan, who’s been tortured and enslaved and kidnapped and near death several times, and now he’s found out he knocked up a human woman, and not only that, he might be a demigod. His dead mother is showing up in his dreams and he’s also in the first semi-monogamous relationship of his four hundred year long life. There’s also something in there about the possible end of his entire race. Perhaps—and this is just an idea—just perhaps, his behavior isn’t all about you.”

  Jason’s eyebrow lifted. “How did you know about Sara, and about his mother?”

  Lex shrugged again. “Beck told me.”

  “That’s classified information.”

  The Seraph snorted. “Who exactly am I going to tell? Besides, wasn’t it you who said this whole thing was somehow connected to me anyway?”

  He looked vaguely guilty. “You’re right again. I should try harder to keep you in the loop on all of this—everything that’s happening now seems interconnected, even this Jesus boy. Yet another way I’ve fucked things up where you’re concerned.”

  Lex rolled his eyes and stood. “Please, Jason, enough. Yes, you are a bit of a cock. Yes, you made some mistakes. Who hasn’t? What about my going to bed with a vampire I’d met an hour before? Not exactly Harvard-level brilliance. So if you’d like me to find you a hair shirt, I’ll do my best, but I’d really prefer if we could just try to be friends and you could stop beating yourself up over all of this.”

  Finally, Jason smiled. “All right, all right. Don’t get your wings in a twist. I’ll try.” He got back up and straightened his coat, and his mood was much lighter than it had been when he’d arrived. “Shake on it?” He asked, extending a hand.

  Lex rolled his eyes again, reached out, and pulled the vampire into a hug. “Don’t be a moron,” he said into Jason’s hair. “Now, go save the world like a good boy and keep me posted.”

  Jason squeezed him around the middle, hard, then stepped back, still smiling, albeit tiredly. “As you wish.”

  Lex saw him to the elevator, and Jason gave him an almost-chaste kiss before he left.

  “Men,” Lex muttered, turning back toward the comforting stone and steel of his home.

  He froze, eyes narrowing—something wasn’t right.

  One of the shadows was deeper than the rest, and the feeling of being watched redoubled, raising the hairs on the back of his neck.

  “Come out,” he demanded. “Enough of this.”

  The shadow separated from the rest and moved forward. Again, Lex had the feeling of familiarity, and though he should have been afraid of anyone who had managed to sneak up to his home without his or Jason’s noticing, he felt no fear, only irritation.

  His visitor stepped out into the light.

  Broad leathery wings extended up, peaking in bone hooks. Marble skin gleamed in the night. Brilliant green eyes lit on him with equal recognition, and Seraph faced Seraph.

  “You must be the Angel of the Lord,” Lex said. “Do you have a name?”

  The Seraph looked puzzled. “No. We do not have names.” His voice—if in fact it was a he, with such androgynous features—was gravely and low. “We are no one.”

  “Speak for yourself. My name is Lex. And I’d like to know why you’re following me.”

  The Seraph wore no shirt, and his skin was unmarked; the only garment he had on was a pair of slightly tattered black pants. He also carried a long curved knife in a sheath on his belt.

  “I was sent on an errand from Almighty God,” the Seraph replied. “I am here to protect as well as to serve.”

  “So you’re on the police force, then?”

  Another blink—all right, clearly Seraph weren’t the comedians of the occult world. Lex reminded himself that he was different; most Seraph took over their human hosts much younger, and most started out human. If the representative of his species before him was what he could expect from the rest, Lex knew he’d gotten the better deal.

  “Are you the one who appeared to Joshua Cohen?” Lex asked.

  “I am.”

  “And you told him he’s Jesus? Did it occur to you that might be a little much for him to absorb along with all the powers coming out of nowhere?”

  “I did as I was told by God. I delivered the message, and now I must protect my charge to the death. I must pave the way for him to ascend to his destiny, and smite all those who oppose him.”

  Lex couldn’t help it; he laughed. “You really just said ‘smite,’ didn’t you. That’s fantastic.”

  There was, of course, no response. Lex sighed. “So why have you come to me, then? Obviously we don’t work as a team. Did you come here just to say hello?”

  “No,” the Seraph said, drawing his knife, the blade flashing wickedly. “I came here to kill you.”

  Part Five

  Considering there was an armed Seraph standing in front of him whose mission, apparently, was to kill him, Lex felt remarkably calm.

  He crossed his arms. "Why, exactly, am I your prey?"

  "God spoke to me--"

  "Oh, right. God. Okay. The same God I'm supposed to be a messenger of too, right? You're an angel of the Lord, we're the same species, so why would God want you to kill me?"

  "It isn't my right to question--"

  Lex sighed. He should have felt afraid, or at least nervous. He should have been a tad angry, he supposed, that this creature was stalking him and now wanted to kill him just because a burning bush, or whatever, told him to. Instead, Lex couldn't help but feel something akin to pity.

  "Who were you, before?" he asked. "You were human once, right? So was I. Were you a believer? Protestant, Catholic, maybe even Muslim? Did you have a family?"

  The Seraph looked confused. "That does not matter."

  "Of course it does. What was your name? Do you even remember?"

  The Seraph held his knife a little higher, shifting his stance. He looked a little concerned that things weren't going according to plan.

  "Maybe that's why you're supposed to kill me," Lex mused. "Because I'm different. Maybe the reason there are no records of us is that we cease to exist as people and just become soldiers. We carry out our mission, we die, and that's it. The Seraph takes our bodies, but what happens to our souls? Is the human you once were dead now? In Heaven, maybe? Or is he hanging out trapped in his body somewhere until you die? That's not what happened to me. I'm not like you. Maybe...maybe I'm a threat."

  The Seraph looked even more dubious.

  "Or maybe," Lex said, "I'm just trying to distract you."

  He dropped to the ground and lashed out with one foot, knocking the Seraph off his legs. The Seraph crashed into the ground with a grunt and his knife clattered away, but he was up again in a heartbeat and went for Lex with his claws at the ready.

  Lex had no idea how to fight. In fact he had no idea how to do what he had just done. But something--instinct, primal, hot, and raw--flooded up over him, and he didn't give himself time to think. He gave into it.

  His arm flew out and caught the Seraph's wrist, twisting with his entire body until he heard a crack and a cry. Lex unhooked his wings and caught the intruder full on with one, using his upper body strength to fling him into the wall. Another crack.

  The Seraph was undaunted, though he bled from his ear and nose and his left arm hung useless at his side. He, too, unfurled his wings, and flung himself at Lex with an animal snarl. Lex hissed, his canines sliding out over his tongue, his vision going scarlet, and he struck like a snake, tearing ragged holes in the Seraph's neck that spewed scalding blood over them both.

  The Seraph stumbled back,
good hand flying up to his neck. It wasn't a fatal wound, but his eyes were huge and white with shock.

  Lex licked his lips, tasting copper and sulfur. "Did I mention I'm also a vampire?"

  Injured, bleeding, and weakening, the Seraph dove for him again, and again, but Lex already had the upper hand, and punched him in the stomach once, then spun around and clubbed him with his wings a second time. This time, the intruder hit the wall and didn't get back up.

  Lex's entire body was on fire, buzzing with adrenaline, his breath coming hard. He bent and retrieved the Seraph's knife and stood over the fallen one, who even now was trying to claw his way up the wall back to his feet.

  "Stop," Lex said softly. "Please."

  "No...must..."

  Lex looked at the blade--it was marked with symbols that reminded him strongly of the ones he had tattooed on his shoulder. The metal almost seemed to smolder with dark intent. Just touching its hilt, he knew: it was made to draw the blood of his kind.

  "I'm sorry," he said.

  As the Seraph forced himself up to his knees, hands scrabbling in his own blood, Lex snapped his arm across and slit the Seraph's throat.

  The body tumbled forward, its wings falling over it like a shroud.

  Silence. Lex knelt beside the Seraph, feeling the strange desire to curl into a ball and weep, as if he could mourn for the one who had come to take his life. In a way, he did.

  He laid a hand on the Seraph's shoulder and waited for the Agency to arrive.

  *****

  Beck was first on the scene, and she resisted the urge to throw her arms around Lex and pat him all over to make sure he was safe. Business first. She hit her Ear and called for backup including a med unit.

  "I'm not hurt," Lex insisted. He was still kneeling by the dead creature. When Beck approached, he held up his hand, offering her the knife he held. "Take this. Your people will probably want to look at it."

  "You knew I was coming," she said.

  His lips quirked in a humorless smile. "Of course. You don't think I know there are cameras out here? I guess they called you since you were on patrol."

  "Yeah. I was closest. Are you sure you're all right? You look like shit."

  He shrugged. "A few scratches. The desire to vomit. That's all."

  Beck yanked a vinyl glove out of her coat and used it to take the knife, sliding the thing into an evidence bag. Lex was right; R&D would be all over the thing. She could feel something squirming all over it, like a hex of some kind.

  "These are angelic conjuration symbols," she said. "They're like your tattoo, but with a different intention. This is dark stuff--whoever did this knew what he was doing."

  "God did it," Lex said bitterly. "The Angel of the Lord was sent to smite me."

  "No." Beck held the bag open and sniffed--there was the Seraph's blood, of course, but underneath that the smell of cedar oil, and beneath that... "There was already blood on this blade, dried, at least 24 hours old."

  Lex looked up in surprise. "There was? I didn't see it."

  "It was wiped, but there's a trace up along the hilt. It's human blood. The blade was either anointed by the conjurer, or used in a sacrifice. Frog and the boys might be able to tell which."

  "So someone else died for this too," Lex said. "That makes me feel so much better."

  "Only if it was a sacrifice. Otherwise, this guy was sent after you by a sorcerer, not by God."

  Lex went pale. "Humans can summon and control us?"

  "I don't know, honey. Let's not jump to any conclusions. Frog will know."

  Behind them the elevator door slid open, and Jason and three other Agents, followed by two medics with a stretcher, emerged.

  Jason took in the scene and Beck could see clearly he was trying not to freak out. "All right," he said with false calm, "Start at the beginning."

  *****

  Sara stood in front of the mirror, turning left and right, her hand behind her back pulling her shirt tight across her stomach. Her mouth was dry, her palms clammy, her heart laboring.

  She’d gone to bed with a flat belly. Now she had what could only be described as a bump.

  Her pants had been tight for the last week, but it was nothing anyone would notice; her face seemed puffy too. But this was the first obvious sign, and the second she saw it she felt like the world had turned inside out yet again.

  She pulled her shirt off and looked at her reflection again, hesitantly moving a hand down to her abdomen, where the slightest visible convexity was now pressing out against the waistband of her panties.

  That was how Rowan found her a few minutes later. “Sara, breakfast is…”

  “Look,” she said softly, indicating the mirror.

  He came up behind her and stared, then reached out and covered her hand with his, his other arm sliding around her shoulder.

  “It’s real,” she whispered. “There’s really a baby in there.”

  “Either that or you need to lay off the honeycakes,” Rowan chuckled in her ear, warm and comforting. She tried to smile back but felt more like crying.

  “Sara,” he said, “It’s not too late if you’ve changed your mind…”

  She shook her head and blinked back her tears. “No…no, I want to do this. I’m just hormonal—I keep crying at the drop of a hat this week. Yesterday I practically had a nervous breakdown because I spilled juice on my shirt. Mellis says that I’ll probably get this kind of thing worse than usual because my body doesn’t know what to do with all the genetic weirdness going on. And…I mean…my brain is still trying to catch up with reality. I just never thought I’d look at myself in the mirror and see a belly bump.”

  “Come eat,” he said, drawing her by the hand away from the mirror. “You’re still not eating enough in the mornings.”

  “That’s because vomiting gets kind of old after a while.”

  “Which is why we’re keeping it simple today,” he replied, sitting her down at the table. The smell of fresh-baked bread filled her nose, and instead of making her stomach lurch like most food did upon waking, it made her stomach growl with hunger. “The Bakers sent this over—it’s a special recipe they make for pregnant women. They haven’t needed it in so long that nobody could remember how to make it, but one of the Gardeners’ mothers was a Baker, and he inherited her cookbook.”

  “What’s special about it?” she asked, her mouth practically watering as he cut her a slice and drizzled it with some kind of dark syrup she didn’t recognize.

  “Herbs,” he said. “And this stuff is a particular kind of honey that’s only made by one hive, off in the woods; the apiary Priestess sent it to you. It’s supposed to be insanely healthy. I think they even hit it with some mojo.”

  Sara smiled, her eyes burning again—damn it—at the thought of the others conspiring to make her feel better. She took a bite of the bread, and it was luscious, still warm and slightly sweet even without the honey, which was marvelously complex in flavor and richer than maple syrup.

  She noticed that she had to back her chair up slightly from the table. “God, this is just going to keep getting weirder and weirder.”

  “Wait until it starts kicking,” Rowan told her helpfully.

  She decided not to think about that, and concentrated on her bread. One thing at a time; she’d get through this week, and the next, and then they’d be back in Austin…

  …Austin, where she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to return.

  “I don’t want to go back,” she said quietly, staring at her plate.

  Rowan sighed. “I know. To tell you the truth I don’t either.”

  “Once I get back to base I’ll be basically on house arrest for months. I might as well just go back to Admin. I don’t know if I can do that again, Rowan. Ness said they’d send me out for psychic specialty missions, but it felt like she was just trying to placate me. And I’ll be poked and prodded every day, and the tramera…they’ll treat it like a medical condition. I just keep thinking she’ll be safer here.”r />
  The words tumbled out before she could stop them, putting voice to how she’d been feeling the entire course of their stay in Clan Willow. She’d kept it to herself for so long it was a relief just to blurt the whole thing out to the one person that might understand how she felt.

  Then, what he’d said registered to her, and she asked, “What do you mean, you don’t want to go back? What about Jason?”

  He leaned his forehead on his hands. “I don’t know.”

  “I don’t understand,” she said. “I know it’s been hard for you to adjust to the whole couples thing, and I know that mess with Lex rattled you pretty hard, but…would you really just give up like that?”

  “What do you want from me, Sara?” A spark of anger flared in Rowan’s voice—a rare thing, indeed. "Did you expect a happily ever after here? I'm tired. I'm tired of living in a dirty city, tired of living in a cave, tired of getting paid to shoot people when humans are too stupid to keep their hands off things they don't understand. What's wrong with wanting to be among my own people, somewhere I'm not regarded as a freak?"

  "So go off active duty, Rowan. Tell Ness you don't want to go out in the field anymore. It was your idea in the first place. Get your own apartment again if living aboveground is that important to you. But don't throw away what you have--what most people would kill for."

  He put his head back in his hands. "You don't understand. You couldn't."

  "Right, of course not. I'm just a human, right? Good enough to knock up but not good enough to understand the lofty concerns of the enlightened immortal Elves. Well, for being four hundred years old you're acting like a toddler having a tantrum. I guess the old saying's true--absence makes the heart completely fucking stupid."

  She stood up, shoving the chair back under the table. "I am going for a walk now, so I can get some fresh air and not punch you in the head."

  Sara started to leave, but dizziness and nausea gripped her once again, and she grabbed the back of the chair to keep from falling over, groaning. She was hungry--god, she was so hungry, and tired, and sick at heart. And she wasn't going to throw up again, damn it. Not again.