A Summoner's Tale - The Vampire's Confessor (Black Swan 3)

by Danann, Victoria

She stared at him. "None."

  "Exactamundo!" He jumped down from his stool in a fluid move and bent to give Litha a big smooch on the cheek. "Getting hungry. Gotta go." He grinned and straightened the sleeves of his sports coat by pulling on them.

  "Thanks for coming, Dad."

  "Welcome, beautiful."

  "Say goodbye to Storm," she directed.

  Deliverance tossed a look over his shoulder that implied he had forgotten Storm was there. "Engel Beowulf Storm. Take good care of my little girl."

  "Stay right where you are." Storm said it quietly, but in the commanding tone of someone unaccustomed to being ignored. When Deliverance turned and faced him, he added, "With all due respect, Sir." Storm might have coated the honorific title with an extra big helping of sarcasm, but he wasn't in a mood to guard against belligerence or worry about the demon's feelings getting hurt. "Before you drop this bomb and hurry away, I want to be sure I'm not misunderstanding. You're claiming that my biological father was an Abraxas demon?"

  "Occam's Razor. The simplest explanation is usually the correct one," the demon said cheerfully right before his expression abruptly changed to serious; as if he had just stumbled upon an unexpected obstacle. "Hold on. I'm not impugning your mother's name or anything as Dark Ages as that. Right?

  "Just look at it this way. If he was an Incubus, she wouldn't have been able to resist. I mean..." He held his arms out in a pose that was reminiscent of Fonzy from the old TV show, 'Happy Days', in evergreen, Nick reruns on the grid of screens in the demon's living room.

  Storm was every bit as unimpressed as you would expect a Black Swan knight to be. His manner and tone were even. "Where's your proof?"

  Deliverance didn't look offended. If anything, Storm's reaction seemed to soften him around the edges. He shook his head slightly in a way Storm had previously thought was unique to Litha. "The only proof I can give you is the fact that you can survive the passes. Of course..." He smiled just a little too wickedly to suit Litha "... if I'm wrong, you'll be dead."

  Storm straightened, pulled his jaw in, and glared. He looked like he would love nothing more than to throttle one exceptionally pretty, super-arrogant demon currently standing in his kitchen with blatant effrontery written all over his smug mug.

  "Comforting," Storm said drily. As he stared at Deliverance he did a mental checklist. His brother and sister both had his dad's blue eyes and Irish skin with freckles splashed across their noses. His olive skin and black eyes did look out of place in the family portrait. He'd never really thought anything of it before now.

  "Ask your mother then." The demon cocked his head in a way that served to remind Storm that Deliverance was not exactly human. "Doesn't she live nearby?" Storm almost took a threatening step toward daddy dearest. Litha sucked in a breath as she practically read her husband's mind.

  "Dad," Litha said quietly while pulling on his sleeve, "time to go."

  "Alright, love. See you soon."

  Urging her father toward the door, she glanced at Storm and didn't like what she saw. "I'll let him out and be right back."

  In three minutes Litha returned with a worried mind, not knowing what to expect. Storm was sitting on a bar stool staring straight ahead. She eased in next to him.

  "What do you think?"

  He turned and looked at her. "I'm not sure you could call the jumble in my head actual thinking." He pinned her with a look, the famous Storm intensity was back full force. "Did you suspect?"

  "I wouldn't say I suspected exactly, but at one point when I was... away, it crossed my mind that it would be ironic if part of the reason you're Black Swan's brightest and best is because you're part demon."

  The edges of Storm's mouth lifted. "You thought I was the brightest and best?"

  "Of course. Everybody knows that."

  "Everybody doesn't know that, Litha. Ram is the one with a giant portrait hanging in the Hall of Heroes. I'm not saying he doesn't deserve it." He hurried to add that. "He does. Nobody understands that better than I do."

  Litha pushed a stray lock of black hair off his forehead and slid to her feet so that she could lean into him where he sat on their kitchen barstool. "Some people are flashier than others. They attract attention. And maybe it's partly karma. But everybody knows that when it comes to Black Swan knights, you're the baddest of them all."

  He smiled, put his hands on her waist and drew her closer. "Also not above having my ego stroked."

  She melted into his body and luxuriated in how right it always felt to cuddle with him. "Among other things."

  "Yeah. Among other things." Storm repeated that absently then heaved a big sigh. "I'm not going to corner my mother."

  "I think that's the right call."

  "Okay." He got up quickly.

  She'd known him just long enough to know what that meant. He'd weighed every factor with speed that would dizzy the most sophisticated computer and made up his mind.

  "Let's find out."

  "Find out what?"

  "You know what."

  "No." Litha looked a little horrified.

  "Yes."

  "I say no."

  "I say yes. That means I win."

  "What? How do you figure that?"

  "Because we're making up the rules of this marriage as we go along and I called it first."

  She didn't want to laugh. The situation was too serious and the proposal was too dangerous. There really wasn't one thing about the situation that was funny, except Storm and his quick wit.

  "Made you laugh. Let's go."

  "No! I'm serious. You're my new husband, not a lab rat. If he's right, then no harm done. If he's wrong, I'm not only without you and, let me repeat that, without you as in alone, widowed, by myself in a villa designed for two. Because you died for a dumb experiment. And, worse, I would be the one responsible for my own catastrophe."

  "I take responsibility."

  "You can't take responsibility. It's not yours to take. I'm not taking you into a pass."

  Two hours later Storm and Litha emerged from a pass near the terrace of her favorite fish taco spot in Cabo. Storm never really understood what he was asking until he witnessed her knees buckle. She started sobbing.

  "Baby, baby," he said holding her up, smoothing her hair and glaring at passers-by who stared at her. "You were really scared, huh?"

  She pulled back and started punching him in the chest and stomach. "I told you that! You are the biggest dick who ever lived. I cannot believe I let you talk me into marrying you."

  At that Storm started to laugh. "Um. I think that was you pursuing me. Shamelessly. Relentlessly."

  "I hate you right now." He reached for her, but she stepped back. "I thought a big part of your appeal was your fearlessness. Right now I'm thinking fearlessness sucks it major. I should have picked somebody else."

  "Who?" he demanded. "Name him. He's dead."

  "This is not funny!"

  "Well. It is kind of. But I wasn't being funny." He tried to grab her again with more success. "I'm deadly serious. Anybody else who touches you will wake to find himself on the other side of the shade line wishing he'd stayed home and kept his hands to himself."

  "You know, I should leave you here and let you try to find a way home with no I.D., much less a passport."

  "Aw, Litha..." He chuckled playfully, not believing for an instant that she would follow through on her threat. "...don't be mad. Who knew you had such a temper? And such a vindictive side."

  She pulled out of his arms. "I could have lost you! Do you really not get that?"

  She hissed, turned, and strode away purposefully toward a world-famous frozen margarita leaving him to catch up or rot in a Mexican jail.

  He jogged up next to her and matched her stride, grinning, and looking mouth-wateringly good. Unfortunately.

  "You know that was fun."

  "It would be so much easier to stay mad at you if you weren't so..."

  He caught her and pulled her to a stop in front of him as he
wound his arms around her waist.

  "So what?"

  "So gorgeous," she admitted reluctantly.

  The corners of his mouth lifted, but he gave her a teasing tilt of his jaw.

  "Should I believe compliments coming from a woman who's half sex demon?" She huffed. He stared at her mouth for a second and lowered his voice. "If you stop beating up on me, I might give you a chance to show me what you got, Daughter-of-an-Incubus."

  "That's very knightly of you, Sir Storm." The sarcasm was unmistakable.

  He grinned. "I try."

  At sunset, Storm and Litha walked between vine rows talking about what needed to be done to the vineyard. They had concentrated on outfitting the house the way they wanted it first. Now it was time to turn their attention toward the real reason for being there - growing grapes for wine.

  After a few minutes of shared silence, Storm watched her push her hair away from her face with the back of her gardening glove. It was such a feminine and endearing gesture, one that reminded him that they were a team with a shared dream as well as a couple deeply in love with each other. He admired the graceful gesture along with the graceful edge of her profile.

  "What is it you've been wanting to say?"

  She looked at him briefly, at the sun low in the sky then at the ground around their feet. "I think I should tell The Order that I can slip dimensions, but I'm also afraid to do it. Having a unique ability, more than one actually... I don't want to be reclassified as dangerous because of the fire thing. Or anything else. They can be just like everybody else; afraid of the unknown, what they don't understand."

  Storm stopped and looked at her like he was weighing all options. "They're probably going to think you're the most valuable associate in all of Black Swan, not just because you do what nobody else can do, but because you have information about other dimensions and species that nobody else has."

  "Yeah. Well, that's the second thing I'm afraid of." She gestured toward their little corner of heaven. "I just want a simple life. Here. With you."

  Storm nodded, looking pensive. "I hear a resounding 'but' hanging in the air and I know what comes after that."

  "But you can't always get what you want."

  He put his arms around her. "It's a fact that everything about you sets a precedent because you're one of a kind. It's also a fact that we have a duty to Black Swan." She nodded and turned her face so she could lay her temple against his collar-bone. "But we have a duty to ourselves, too. If we're going to trail blaze, let's find a balance." She pulled back and looked up at him.

  He smiled reassuringly. "Are we problem solvers?" She nodded. "Well, there you go. We'll make it work."

  They brainstormed through dinner and came up with a viable proposal to offer the mysterious someone that Simon, Sol, and others in similar positions reported to. Litha would agree to slip dimensions on errand for The Order occasionally, as long as they didn't start taking advantage and trying to turn it into a full time job. She would tell them everything she learned - on a part-time basis.

  The Order would provide a suitable, permanent residence in Edinburgh so that they could be together comfortably and give them a generous allowance to hire a vintner/caretaker when they were away. Storm had someone in mind who would be perfect for the job.

  They agreed that it was a take it or leave it deal. No negotiation.

  "One last thing."

  Storm looked up from the legal pad where they had written their list of demands. "What did we forget?"

  "That you can also ride the passes unharmed so long as you're with me. To tell or not to tell. That is the question."

  Storm tapped his pen on the table. "What's your position on lies of omission?"

  "I think it's nonsense. If it isn't written or spoken, it's not a lie."

  Storm's serious expression took on that guise of affectionate amusement. "So you're cute and smart, too." She tried to pinch his thigh, but she would have had more success trying to pinch the concrete kitchen counter. He laughed at her, but then immediately returned to decision-making mode. "So it's not a moral issue. It could be considered an ethics issue if I wasn't retired. But I am. Therefore..."

  Litha snorted. "You didn't really just say 'therefore' did you?"

  "Come on. I'm in a zone here."

  She leaned back in her chair. "Aye aye, sir."

  "Therefore..." He began again with emphasis and a pointed look. "...the way I see it, it's entirely up to us. What do you think?"

  "All that logic just to bounce it back at me?"

  He grinned. "Not bad, huh?"

  She laughed. "Slick."

  He jumped to his feet, grabbed her out of her chair and put her over his shoulder just as he had done one warm night in South Texas. Her brain temporarily froze, either from the speed with which that had happened or the fact that he was using his free hand to explore her derriere. They might be married, but what he was doing was still gasp-worthy.

  "What are you doing?" She finally managed to gush a sentence out.

  He started toward their bedroom. "I can think of two things that rhyme with slick."

  ***

  CHAPTER_3

  BLACK SWAN TRAINING MANUAL, STANDARD PROCEDURES.

  Section I: Chapter 3, #1

  Personnel may not, for any reason, use materials or property owned or developed by The Order, or its various branches, 1.) for personal use, or 2.) without specific knowledge and consent of the local unit chief.

  Baka stood at the head of a cobblestone alley and looked up and down High Street. The tourists and pub crawlers were thinning at that time of year, but still merry. Danger was the very last thing on their minds. There was an entrance to the underground just a few yards away in the alley where Baka stood.

  He pulled back into the shadows, slipped along the wall, and descended via the semi-hidden entrance. Just a few steps into the tunnel, both sound and air went completely dead. Dead, silent, and cold as a grave.

  He shrugged his backpack off and it hit the old brick pavement with a soft thud. The zipper seemed loud when he opened the pack. It might have even echoed a little. He pulled out his jacket and got into it just as his teeth started to chatter. Next he withdrew the helmet and tested the lamp. It worked.

  His night sight was better than it would have been if he had never had the virus in his system, but, the dubious benefit of seeing well in the dark had definitely started to slip. As he put the helmet in place he thought he heard something. He froze and looked around, the light following the direction he looked. He remained still for some time just listening. Not that he would be able to tell what direction the sound came from. Between the maze of tunnels and the echoes he couldn't learn much from sound except that he was not alone.

  Of course he already knew that. He couldn't say how he knew that, just some sort of sense thing. If he still had one, he would bet his soul that there were vampire down there. He didn't know of any way to tell for certain other than to die and that seemed like an extreme choice just to settle an internal argument. The question of whether or not he was souled would remain unanswered for a while if he was choosing, even if his actions might look like a death wish unfolding.

  He pulled the canisters containing the cure out of the deepest pockets on his thighs and put them into the backpack exchanging them for the two dart guns which he had loaded before leaving Headquarters. He had enough canisters in each loin pocket for two reloads. When he stood he could brush the handles of the dart guns with his hands if his elbows were bent slightly.

  Baka smiled at how closely that imitated the glamour of the gun-toting Old West. It didn't make him feel devastatingly deadly. If anything, it made him feel comical, like the Charlie Brown beagle, Snoopy, on top of his doghouse pretending to be the Red Baron.

  Vampire beware. The fastest dartslinger in the history of the Edinburgh underground approaches.

  He was suppressing a self-deprecating chuckle when he heard the noise again. Just as before he froze in place and listened ha
rd to try and discern the direction. Or the source. Everything had gone quiet as a tomb again. He hated thinking about that reference because there were far too many parallels.

  A formerly infamous, fearsome vampire afraid of ghosts? Impossible.

  Starting forward down the main tunnel, he knew his light could be seen from a quarter mile away. He might as well have brought an ice cream truck with an annoying tune to announce that he was on the way. Because every thing down there was going to know it beyond a doubt. It couldn't be helped. He'd be completely blind without the headlight, but it was as far from ideal as you could get.

  Twenty minutes later he didn't know how far he'd gone because the silence and darkness were disorienting. He'd been trying to move slowly enough so as not to call any more attention to himself than the light would be drawing.

  Several times he had almost had to stop himself from yelling, "Hello? Anybody there?" After all, he knew what was in his heart. He was there to help. Not hurt.

  Baka never had a chance to fire off a single canister. Three vamp slid out of blackness and pinned him, slamming him against the wall. His back took the brunt of a protrusion that was going to turn into a trophy bruise, but he couldn't take time to object to that.

  He tried to explain that he was bringing a cure. They seemed entertained by that. At least they laughed for a couple of seconds while they were dragging him away.

  They took off his helmet and switched off the light. The next sound he heard was probably the helmet being tossed against a wall. He could feel their hands on him, but couldn't see a thing. He wondered that they were able to see. So deep and so far from an entrance there was simply no light for eyes to refract.

  He stumbled a couple of times while being pushed and jostled. The vampire made no effort to stop his fall. They let him go down then pulled him up roughly and shoved him forward again.

  He was jerked to a halt roughly and without warning, spun around so that his back could be shoved against a wall. He heard iron clank and then felt manacles tighten, one on each wrist. He heard the clamps click into place and knew they'd been locked. As soon as the vampire let go of his arms he tried the chains. He pulled on one arm, then the other. While he was busy doing that, the vampire withdrew without a sound. He didn't have to ask out loud to know that he'd been left alone. He could feel it.