No. He had never been short on conscience. And that conscience was rubbing a hole in his brain telling him that it would be wrong to simply sit at a desk and plan a strategy on paper while, at the same time, doing nothing. So, keeping his own counsel, for better or worse, he determined that he would continue to work as a bureaucrat during the day, but would spend his nights - at least part of them - looking for others he might coax back to the light with the help of a very special serum.
He had worked with Monq at Jefferson Unit labs to develop a delivery solution. Taking a page from the methodology of the late Gautier Nibelung, they had decided that the safest and most effective approach would be dart gun. Each dart was outfitted with a tiny canister that would puncture on impact releasing a formula that was part stun and part cure. The proper dose of stun solution had been determined by tests on Baka himself. So he knew it worked. First hand.
Obviously vampire must be incapacitated while the viral antidote works. As medicinal remedies go, it was fast working, but not instant. There was a delay of two to four hours between introduction to the system and complete reversal of the disease, depending upon the age and constitution of the individual.
His plan wasn't perfect. It depended on encountering one - no more than two - vampire at a time and extracting them, while paralyzed, without engaging other vampire. Further, all that had to be accomplished by him. Alone.
Tricky, but the alternative was waiting for a task force to be vetted, assembled, and trained. And waiting was the one thing he couldn't manage. Maybe it wasn't the smartest thing he'd ever done, but hell, he'd had a long life.
To his advantage, he still had certain attributes that were extra human. Not like comic book heroes. More like human plus. No one knew if these benefits would fade away over time, but, for now, he was a little stronger, a little faster, and could see in the dark a little better than most people. All traits very useful for vampire hunting.
It just so happened that he found his assigned base of operations in prime territory that qualified as a vampire magnet on all counts. In Edinburgh's Old Town there was a large pedestrian population that came out at night and it was built on top of an underground system that was not utilized to any extent that would interfere with the needs of vampire. All this was literally in sight of his office - five minutes' walk away.
In a darkly poetic way, it was fitting that vampire would thrive in Edinburgh's underground city which consisted of a system of tunneled streets with walls so close you could almost stand in the middle and touch both sides. The caverns and cells that faced the streets cut into the much softer sandstone under the rock that the above-ground Old Town was built upon. It was a place with grisly history where thousands of hapless poor lived in darkness, packed together without sanitation and with the vilest of criminals. The legend was that plague victims were not removed and buried or burned, but sealed in their cells.
Some of the underground "vaults" under the bridge were reportedly used during World War II air raids, but, even if that was true, no one had been back since.
Modern day Ghost Tours offered a shallow excursion into Mary King's Close - shallow because individuals didn't want to stay in the underground very long. Words like "creepy" were frequently used even by hard-core insensitives. That left a lot of maze for a vampire haven.
Baka had been a vampire long enough to know all about how they thought which was why he had been supremely valuable to The Order as "consultant". He knew that the days of the Samhuinn festival would be a gorge fest for vampire. The Royal Mile, just over the heads of vampire living in the Underground, would be crowded with visitors to the city, visitors intent on celebration and revelry, danger being the last thing on their minds. It would be a blessing to vampire in the original sense of the word's older cousin - bloodletting.
He finished his day, went to dinner alone, and slowly savored every bite of actual food. Afterward, driven by a heartfelt desire to do some good in the world, he pulled on a pair of cargo pants and equipped the dozen pockets with as many canisters as they would hold. He opened his backpack and stuffed it with two not-for-sale-on-any-market, rapid-fire dart pistols designed by The Order's own, genius inventor, Thelonius M. Monq. To that he added five revolving canisters for reloads, a thinsulate, a lighted helmet guaranteed to give fourteen hours of use in exchange for three AAA batteries, and six pairs of handcuffs.
When he put the handcuffs in side zipper pockets he wondered if he was being ambitious, prideful, or just plain stupid. It gave him pause, but, when weighed against the burden on his heart, his second thoughts didn't carry enough weight to stop him. Like many natural intuits, he ignored the foreboding of his own instinct and proceeded with the plan, foolish though it might be.
He descended the stairs to the main foyer wondering if, even partial redemption for a long life of misdeeds, was possible. The fact that he was not accountable for his infamous history should have given him some peace of absolution. But didn't. He said good evening to the doorman, threaded his arms into the backpack straps, and headed out into the night.
***
CHAPTER_2
After brunch, Kay and Katrina did hugs all around, loaded the car, and drove away from the Black Swan Vineyard villa where they had been guests for four days. They were supposed to rendezvous with an Order jet at Voltaire Unit, Presidio, San Francisco and catch a ride to Edinburgh. Kay had been persuaded to consult on a Berserker issue and, since it wasn't an active duty assignment, Katrina came along.
The young married couple had both been changed by the experience of her demon abduction. The feeling of not knowing whether or not they would ever see each other again was still raw and near the surface of shadow consciousness, so they didn't like to spend time apart if it could be helped.
Storm and Litha stood on the pea gravel drive and waved goodbye like an old married couple. They held hands and watched the teal blue Caddy until it went over the hill before going back inside. It was the only car at The Order's San Francisco hangar that Kay could fit in. At home in Houston, he had an expensive sports car that had been custom tricked out to accommodate his size, but only a few loaner cars came big enough for him to ride comfortably.
After the car disappeared from view, they closed the door and got as far as the two cordovan, leather sofas that faced each other in the great room, before they flopped down. The excursion into the new world of hosting house guests at the newly renovated and furnished villa had been a success.
It wasn't their first time to host. Litha's monks and Storm's parents had come for dinner and a tour. That was an evening Storm would never forget. The seven monks had put his education to the test and then proceeded to ask him a series of ethics questions with gray area circumstances. It wore Storm out. His comfort zone was on the black and white tiles, but, surprisingly, the monks were fun and the conversation was stimulating.
He thought that, between Litha's unique nature and unique nurture, it was no wonder she'd turned out to be so singularly special.
Storm's dad had a great time discussing vintner techniques with the monks who specialized in growing. His mom was crazy about Litha and they spent part of the time by themselves talking about various aspects of the house renovation. Storm knew his mom was biting her tongue to keep from asking how long until grandchildren and, really, he was surprised she'd been able to keep from asking.
"I want to clean up the kitchen, but I'm too tired to move." Litha opened one eye a slit so that she could gauge his reaction. She hoped the thinly disguised suggestion would prompt Storm to volunteer, even though they both knew it was her turn.
He grinned, black eyes sparking with just a touch of taunt. "Nice try though."
Screwing up her face and groaning, she dragged herself up off the couch and made drama of trudging toward the kitchen.
The spectacle made Storm grin even wider and his abs rippled with unvoiced laughter. He put his feet up on the heavy, square coffee table, and slouched down into the couch smiling to himself, feelin
g self-satisfied, and more than a little proud of the vineyard, the villa, and his wife. So this is dreams coming true.
He had hunkered down, nested, and loved every damn thing about it. When the thought, "It's too good," wandered across his mind, he could have slapped himself. In his experience "too good" is a state of being that never lasts long. It's usually even shorter if the gods think you're questioning good fortune. Don't they just love to fuck with that?
He snapped out of the fatalistic musings when he heard a knock on the door. Assuming Kay had forgotten something, he opened the door saying, "What did you...?"
It only took a second for Storm to string together everything Litha had told him about Deliverance, add that to the conspicuous family resemblance, - She got her looks from a sex demon, - and come to the conclusion that the caller was his new father-in-law, in the flesh, and standing on their porch. He steadily held the visitor's gaze and, without taking his eyes away, yelled loud enough to be heard in the kitchen.
"Litha! There's a demon here to see you!"
There was no question that she heard him because of the volume of response. Shiny, new copper bottom pots make a lot of clanging noise when they land on something as hard as a new custom poured, concrete, kitchen counter or a slate floor.
Deliverance had been staring at Storm without blinking. He had to give the kid credit. Not so much as a muscle twitch or tiny tremor. He supposed she could have done worse. He let the corners of his mouth soften, but Storm read the humor in his eyes as smirking. And, maybe it was a male challenge ritual. For his own part of the ritual, Storm didn't show any sign of fear, but he didn't invite the demon inside either. At about the same height, they stood at eye level silently taking each other's measure.
Litha rushed past Storm right into the laughing embrace of the older, much older, male. Speaking of 'too good to be true', that pretty much summed up the demon's looks. Anybody, even a heterosexual man, had to admit that he was stunning.
Deliverance was visibly relieved that she was glad to see him. Still on the wide front porch, he swung her around like she was a little girl and she rewarded him with delighted giggles.
When he set her on her feet and drew back to take in her face, she said, "Guess what?"
Looking down at her with pride, he answered dutifully, indulgently. "What?"
She swept her hand around in the air. "This is where I live!"
Deliverance laughed. "I thought so."
"Come in. Oh. Wait." She turned to Storm. "Guess what?"
"This is your dad."
"This is my dad!"
Her excitement was contagious and starting to make him smile a little. How bad could the demon be if he made her that happy?
Storm offered his hand to Deliverance. "Engel Storm."
Deliverance gripped the waiting hand. "You taking care of my little girl?"
Storm withdrew his hand and raised his chin a little. He answered as he was putting his hands in his jeans pockets. "When she's not locked in the cellar."
Deliverance barked out a disbelieving laugh. "I'd like to see you try it. Did she ever tell you what she did to my cousins?"
When Storm turned to Litha for confirmation, she smiled and shrugged as if to say, "Aw, shucks, it was nothing."
Storm was interested. "No she didn't. Was it fire related?"
Deliverance looked at Storm like he must be mentally deficient. Very slowly, as if exercising great patience, he said. "No. Fire wouldn't hurt my cousins."
The unspoken 'duh' resounded loudly in the silent pause that followed. Storm was thinking that it was shaping up to be a long afternoon.
Litha shook her head a little and repeated, "Come in," to her father, the demon.
They gave him a tour of the house. He pretended to be interested in every tidbit about the renovation while rarely taking his eyes away from his daughter. When they circled back to the kitchen, Litha glanced toward the closed pantry door with a dismissive wave in that direction, "I'd offer you something to eat, but..."
Deliverance nodded in the direction indicated. "You have women in there?"
Litha and Deliverance both laughed at his joke. Storm didn't question the fact that he didn't think that was funny. He knew, all the way to his core, that it was definitely not funny and thought it might have even bordered on disturbing. The fact that Litha found Incubus jokes hysterical was disturbing.
"I won't stay long. Just wanted to pop in and bring you a wedding present, or housewarming gift, or whatever you want to call it."
Litha perked up. "Present?" She looked around thinking he had set the bar pretty high with a red, convertible Aston Martin that held a vintage Gucci suitcase full of cash in the trunk. "Where is it?"
"In the abstract."
"An abstract present?" She blinked. "I don't get it."
"Do you want to guess?
"Yes! Let's do that! It'll be fun. Three guesses and I'll give you a big hint. Ready?" Storm was thinking The Order was going to have to overhaul their texts on what to expect from demons. He was sure 'personality like a game show host' was not mentioned. "It's travel related and better than owning your own private jet."
"Wow. Really. Okay. I'm in." She glanced toward Storm. "Storm can play, too, right?"
Deliverance leveled a look on Storm that left no doubt he considered his new son-in-law an intruder on his visit with Litha. "Sure. Go for it."
Litha noticed the change of tone and the reduction in the level of enthusiasm when he addressed Storm, but pretended she didn't. Pick your battles, witch.
"I surrender." Storm would rather observe than horn in on their fun, and observing the dynamic between his bride and her father was both interesting and surprising. He knew Litha had tolerated learning about her heritage and was mentally flexible enough to adapt, but he had no idea she held the demon in such regard and with so much affection. "Litha's better at guessing games."
Litha jerked her head at Storm and narrowed her eyes. "Liar. There's not a game on Earth I can win when you're playing."
"There's one." Deliverance sang those two words as he crossed his arms over his chest and stoked the mystery with his smile. As a sex demon he had an acute appreciation of the value of anticipation.
Stumped by the esoteric clues - travel related and better than a private jet - she lunged at her father and grabbed two fistfuls of shirt. "Tell me!"
He laughed, clearly delighted by her display of delirium. "No, but I'll give you another clue. And, watch the threads! My sustenance depends on good grooming, you know."
She huffed as he gently wrested her hands away from his shirt. "Somehow I think you'd survive without fresh-pressed 'threads'."
Deliverance bowed his head a little in appreciation of her admiration. "Very well. You've worn me down. The lord of the manor here..." He jerked his chin toward Storm. "...is not exactly what he seems to be."
Litha dropped both hands to her sides and took a step back. She sobered instantly, all levity gone from her expression and tone of voice. "You're not here to make trouble, are you?"
Deliverance was taken aback, a scowl looking out of place on his flawless features. "I would never do anything to hurt you and it wounds me that you would think so.
"It's not anything bad. He's just not fully human."
She stared at her father for a couple of beats then ventured a peek at Storm to judge his reaction to the outlandish and completely unexpected announcement. Except for a muscle that twitched involuntarily under Storm's right eye he gave nothing away.
"This isn't fun anymore, Dad. Start explaining now." Litha watched the demon pull a heavy, wrought iron bar chair away from the kitchen island and gracefully take a seat like he knew his way around a barstool.
"You remember saying you thought his eyes looked like mine?" Litha's gaze flew to Storm. Of course she remembered. The resemblance was quite remarkable. Though her face remained passive, it was easy to see her mind was doing some lightning speed gymnastics. She nodded silently, while Storm looked at
Deliverance to see if he would agree. "Well, you were right. They do. That's because his father was Abraxas. Probably a distant relative, but definitely same tribe."
When Deliverance finished that sentence, there was no response. The silence expanded as the newlyweds processed individually, internally testing for a likelihood of truth.
Finally, Litha said, "And you thought this would make us happy?"
He beamed. "Of course! It's my gift."
Litha lifted fingers to her temple and stared at the ground for a minute. "I can't believe I'm asking this, but how does this relate to trav..."
She stopped in mid sentence before jerking a wide-eyed gaze back to his face. "You're saying he can ride the passes." Her tone sounded far calmer than she felt.
"No." Deliverance was shaking his head emphatically. "He doesn't have enough demon blood for that. But he can piggyback. Well, not literally." His eyes drifted down Storm's body and up again, unapologetically calculating how much Storm might weigh. "He could go along with you and survive it." He turned to Storm. "Just don't get separated from her because she's your ticket in, out, and everything in between. If she loses you, you may never watch a rerun of 'Golden Girls' again."
Litha took in a big breath and let out a curse ending in, "...Jezebel's Juice."
"What am I missing?" Deliverance was just starting to tune in to the mood in the room. "That didn't sound like you're happy about winning the grand prize travel package behind Door Number Thirteen."
"Well, I don't know how I feel about it yet. The idea is brand new and I'm, um, surprised to say the least." She wanted to look at Storm and get a read on how he was taking the news , but suspected it wasn't going to be good. "When we've had time to get used to the idea, I'm sure we're going to love it and be really excited."
"Well, yeah! Go anywhere you want to go instantly? Do anything you want to do? How many humans can say that?"
A Summoner's Tale - The Vampire's Confessor (Black Swan 3) Page 2
