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

by Danann, Victoria

  As soon as Storm hung up, he was speed dialing Kay. He looked at Litha. "Elora's missing. We need to throw some stuff in backpacks for overnight and go to New Forest. Ram says dress warm 'cause it's really cold. It snowed."

  Kay saw Storm's number and answered. "Partner."

  "Where are you?"

  It only took three words for Kay to know something was wrong. "We just got into Heathrow ten minutes ago and we're changing planes. What's happened?"

  "Elora's missing. Can you send Katrina on to Headquarters and get a charter to take you close to, what's the name of that village? He's at that place in the preserve."

  "Black-on-Tarry."

  "Yeah. That's it."

  Kay looked at his watch. "Three hours."

  "Okay. Dress warm."

  Kay glanced down at what he had with him. He was wearing square toe boots, jeans, and a sweater, but he did have his Ralph Lauren cashmere dress coat that came to his knees and leather gloves that Katrina had stuffed into one of the deep pockets.

  "Can't do much about that. The airlines have my stuff and I can't go shopping in the middle of the night. Grab an extra knit hat for me and tell Ram I'm coming. Hell or high water."

  "You got it. Both counts."

  Kay brought Katrina up to speed in less than a minute, kissed her goodbye, and said he'd meet her in Edinburgh. He made sure she had Simon's phone and told her to call for a ride to Headquarters. He waylaid the first Aer Lingus rep he saw, asked the fastest way to get to charters, and took off in that direction. Crowds parted like waves when they saw a man his size running through the airport.

  His sense of urgency grew with every step that struck the aggregate floor. One of his teammates was missing. Another would die if she wasn't found. He didn't know how it felt to be missing, but he knew exactly what Ram was going through. His own memory of Katrina as missing was too raw to be disturbed without an emotional struggle. As the berserker started to rise, he talked to himself under his breath, soothing, urging calm, control, restraint. .

  "Down boy. I can't help that way. We gotta believe she's okay. Nobody's stronger or more resourceful. She survived the assassination of her entire clan, a transport mishap that should have killed her, and a vamp attack. Hell. She even overcame the virus. We'll find her. And she'll be okay when we do."

  He was out of breath when he got to the row of hangars with air travel for hire and was lucky enough to find a lightweight jet with a pilot available for a last minute, bargain price of just under nine thousand dollars. He slid them a black credit card without blinking. If they had told him it would cost everything he had, he would have handed it over without a second's hesitation.

  The charter service agreed to arrange for a car to meet him at Derry and take him on to the gates of New Forest at Black-on-Tarry. He'd figure the rest out from there. As Elora was always saying, "One step at a time."

  The pilot came out to introduce himself as Kay was getting on board. Kay gave him a no-nonsense hand shake and told him he needed to fly like there was a legion of harpies on his tail feathers. The pilot wasn't sure he grasped the reference, specifically, but he got the gist. Go fast.

  Ram didn't know how the hell Storm was going to arrange to be there in less than an hour, but Storm wasn't much of a kidder under any circumstances and he knew his teammate wouldn't joke at a time like this.

  As soon as he'd hung up the phone he'd regretted it. The silence and emptiness of the cottage slammed into his solar plexus as hard as if they were tangible things. He'd never felt that way when he was there alone as a boy. He'd always loved being there by himself; far away from his father's disdain and his brother's snooty righteousness.

  That was before Elora. She arrived at Jefferson Unit with a big splat and nothing was ever the same after that. Not for a lot of people. Since the day he'd come in from the forest to find her waiting in the cottage, he'd never once thought about being without her. He couldn't live without her. He wouldn't live without her!

  For a full minute he couldn't breathe. He wasn't breathing too fast. He wasn't breathing at all. He sat down on the wooden chest by the hearth and waited for his lungs to reengage, staring out the window, listening to the silence. Too tired to move and too scared to stay still. He could almost hear Elora saying, "Do not hyperventilate."

  His mind kept replaying their last exchange. "Back before dark and I'll brin' somethin' for dinner."

  "I'll be here."

  "Countin' on it."

  He knew he was a hair's breadth away from a breakdown and knew, just as well, that he couldn't afford that. Somewhere out there in a sometimes hostile environment was an alien female who was his whole world, a dog who answered to him, and an unborn elf with outrageously red hair, turquoise eyes, and laughter that could make an auntie's eyes tear up from the beauty and joy.

  Ram never thought he would face anything in his life that was harder than vampire hunting. He was wrong.

  He decided to build a fire and get the cottage warm for Storm and Litha. When he turned his head to look at the wood supply, he noticed that his bow was missing. Quiver and arrows, too.

  "Bloody Hell, Elora! What were you up to? And why are you no' here?"

  The fire was built to roaring before Ram remembered his horse. He took the phone with him to the stable to unsaddle the mare. She tossed her head, eyed him reprovingly, and stamped a front hoof twice.

  "You can be as temperamental as you like. You're entitled. I could no' be more pleased with you."

  He'd brought a large, terry bath sheet to rub her down. He massaged her back and shoulders and hips as he dried her wet coat. Her sore muscles started to relax and she gave him a deep, soft whinny; the horse version of a moan.

  When he was satisfied that his horse was settled and would not get sick from lack of care, he returned to find everything exactly as he'd left it. He didn't know why that surprised him every time. Maybe a part of him was hoping this was a bad dream and that he would wake up to find all as it should be.

  As Storm was dressing, Litha was quickly throwing necessary items into two backpacks they could carry easily. He called Simon, woke him up and explained the situation, saying he would like to have a Whister in New Forest at first light. He said to have somebody call him on Ram's sat number, which he recited, in two hours for a list of what to bring.

  Storm was watching Litha while he was on the phone with Simon. He realized she hadn't said a single word since Ram had called. He also noticed that she was giving him a 'look' whenever she glanced up from packing.

  "Okay. Spill. What is it?"

  "What is what?"

  "Nice try, but I know that game. What is it with the look I'm getting and the fact that you're being strangely quiet?"

  "Look?" It was Storm's turn to give her a look. She straightened, put her hands on her hips, and made a gesture of surrender with her head. "Okay, there might be something, but I'm not sure this is the best time for that conversation. Correction. What I mean to say is that I am positive this is not the best time for that conversation and I shouldn't let you goad me into it."

  She glanced away at the open packs. When she looked back again, she saw that Storm was continuing to dress, but making it clear he was waiting for her to finish. He wasn't going to accept a postponement. He was a straight ahead kind of guy.

  Blowing out a breath, she gathered her thoughts, and plowed ahead. "Doesn't it strike you in the least strange that... you know... here we go again? Elora's life is in danger..." She let that trail away as if it held a world of meaning.

  Storm looked confused and shook his head with a subtle WTF expression. "What exactly are you saying? Make it plain because we don't have time for anything else."

  Litha turned away and resumed packing. "It's like you and Elora are trapped in some sort of karmic loop. Circumstances keep aligning that require you to rescue her. Again and again." He looked blank like he didn't know what to say. She spread her hands in front of her, palms up, and glanced at the open, half filled back
packs. "And again!"

  When he didn't say anything in response, she made a sound of exasperation and went back to packing.

  "It's okay, Storm. I know she's worth it." Litha looked down and tugged at a side zipper, trying to close one of the bulging packs. "I get it."

  Storm walked around the end of the bed, stopped her, and made her look up at him.

  "You don't, Litha. Not if you're thinking what I think you're thinking. You're the one I'm married to and I'm not the least confused about that. You're the only one I feel this way about. I love you."

  "I know that and I'm not questioning it. But I know you love her, too, in a one-for-all sort of way that none of the rest of us mortals will ever understand. Anybody who's ever seen the four of you together would have to know that it would be a big mistake to try and come between you.

  "I'm not trying to interfere with the arcane camaraderie. Honestly. And I'm not just being irrationally jealous."

  Storm smiled. "You're being rationally jealous?"

  "Okay. Laugh all you want. You're the one stuck in the weird cosmic paradigm. But if I don't point it out, you may always be stuck there saving her ass over and over. We'll be on walkers and you'll be getting a call that Elora has fallen and can't get up." Storm pulled her into his arms and she put her face in his chest. "And don't think it hasn't occurred to me that, if something awful happens, I'm going to have to kill myself for what I just said."

  He shushed her softly. "Nobody is killing herself and nothing awful is going to happen."

  She looked up, searching his face. "And why is that? Because you're the all-powerful, Black Swan of B Team?"

  "Yes." He said that with such sincerity and sobriety that she thought he might be serious. "Because thinking otherwise isn't an option."

  Storm gave her a long lingering kiss. "You know, the funny thing about this conversation is that Ram didn't say, 'Elora is missing and only you can save her.' He said, 'I need your wife to find mine. Please.'"

  He fingered the pendulum she wore around her neck. "Have pendulum. Will travel?"

  She smiled. "Come on and finish getting ready. I guess I have to go save your ex-girlfriend."

  After the call from Storm, Simon sat up and switched on the bedside lamp. Half past midnight. He scrolled down through contacts, stopping at Glendennon Catch.

  Glen was often still going strong at this time of night. He was nineteen, a quarter werewolf, and so multi-talented he could have his pick of jobs with The Order. Since he had come along to Edinburgh as Blackie's official dog walker, under the ruse of an internship with Investigations, he had really blossomed as a prospect and a heartbreaker.

  The various departments were all fighting over who was going to get him, which was kind of fun for him, but not as much fun as his original motivation for making the trip: fae girls. Glen had shaved his head for scalp tattoos of angelic glyphs then let the hair come back in as buzz cut. It made him look older and, apparently, it was also a hit with the little ladies because Glen was getting a reputation for being a busy, busy boy, always in demand.

  As fate would have it, on that particular night he had decided to stay in for a change. After all, he wasn't fourteen and only had so much pleasure to give. He was reading a book on paleomagick in Vedic Sanskrit when the phone rang. He answered without looking to see who it was. When he heard Simon's voice, he scrambled to sit up on the side of the bed as if the face camera was on.

  Simon recapped the situation ending with, "I know you're close to the family."

  "Yes. I am."

  "I need someone to go along with the Whister tomorrow morning and make sure everything they might need makes it onto that machine. I understand that you have tracking potential so you're a logical choice on several levels."

  "Yes, sir."

  "Do you want the job?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Okay. You're in charge."

  "Thank you, sir. Who's on the ground?"

  "Sir Storm and his wife will be joining Sir Hawking within the hour. You should call Storm at 0200 for a list of what's needed." Simon read off the call numbers for Ram's sat phone.

  "Who's flying?"

  "Hang on. Let me get my schedule." Simon took out his portaputer and pulled up a file. "Crick Smythee. I'm forwarding his number to your phone right now."

  "Who do I talk to about supplies I need on the Whister?"

  "Same fellow. Anything you need. Any other questions?"

  "Yes, sir. Is Blackie with her?"

  "The dog?"

  "Yes."

  "I believe so."

  "Thank you, sir."

  "Report to me after you've arrived and assessed the situation: logistics and personnel."

  "Yes, sir."

  "Anything else?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Out with it then. This is not the time to be shy."

  "I think we should take Lady Laiken's doctor with us."

  There was a pause. "Good thinking. I agree. The man's name is Nance. I'll call him and tell him to expect a call from you with instructions about when and where to report."

  "Thank you, sir."

  "No thanks needed. Very well. Goodnight."

  "Goodnight, sir."

  When Simon clicked off, Glen dialed Smythee's number.

  "Fuck, kid. Do you know what time it is?"

  "Twelve forty-five. How long is the flight to New Forest?"

  "New Forest? Hell if I know."

  "How about Derry? How long is the flight to Derry?"

  "Just over an hour."

  "Then I want us ready to leave at 0615. I'll be calling back at 0230 with a list of stuff I'm gonna need on that Whister. And, Smythee, no matter what the conditions are, at 0615 we're going. If you don't think you're up for that, tell me now and I'll find somebody else."

  "You worry too much. The Order doesn't employ pilots unless they can fly a feather through a cyclone when necessary."

  "I'll take that as a personal pledge then."

  Glen didn't wait for an answer. He punched off and shoved over to his computer where he could do some research on the New Forest Preserve, the village, and the weather.

  ***

  CHAPTER_17

  Ram never had visitors at the cottage, unless you counted Liam, and certainly not in the middle of the night. So he wasn't expecting a knock on the door even though intellectually he'd told himself that Storm would have an explanation. He absent-mindedly looked at his watch. It was close to one o'clock.

  In two long strides he was opening the door to see Storm and Litha standing there. "How did you...?"

  Litha stepped forward and gave Ram a hug, "She's alive, Ram, and in the vicinity."

  When his brain was able to digest that, he hugged Litha back like she was a life line. "Thank you."

  "I don't need thanks, Ram. You're family to my husband. You're also squishing me."

  He released her immediately and looked embarrassed. "Sorry." He glanced at Storm. "I guess I'm so used to Elora bein' indestructible..."

  "The main thing is this, in a few hours when it gets light, you're going to find her."

  Ram stared at her with red rimmed eyes like he was indulging her patronizing, but wasn't a hundred percent convinced. Ram nodded and gestured toward the fire.

  It wasn't logical, but inwardly, he felt a surge of relief for no other reason than because Storm was there. He was the bulwark. They'd never given him enough credit for it. He's the one whose picture ought to be hangin' in the fuckin' HOH.

  "I've got a kettle on for tea. There's some chicken and potatoes we were supposed to be havin' for supper. I put it in the kitchen warmer in case you're hungry. And there's some cheese and some apples."

  "Have you eaten?" Storm asked.

  Ram shook his head. Storm looked at Litha who nodded and moved toward the kitchen.

  "Neither have we. Let's eat chicken and talk about how we got from California to Ireland in less than a minute. It's a long story and it will help pass the time until sunrise. But fi
rst, somebody's going to call on your sat phone at two to get a list of supplies that we want onboard a Whister tomorrow morning. Let's sort that out."

  The jet charter company had made good on their promise to have a car and driver waiting for him. Kay was thinking that, for nine thousand dollars, it should be Bono waiting in a Bentley to sing to him on the way. No such luck. The driver wasn't especially talkative, but liked to listen to a radio station that specialized in Irish traditional punk fusion. After twenty minutes Kay was ready to jump from the car. If it was anybody but Elora, he would have.

  Since it was his dime, he could have told McIrish to quash the tunes, but Kay figured driving people around in the middle of the night wasn't a great job, so he tried to not let all the angry yelling get on his nerves. Or his berserker's nerves which was a dangerous possibility. Kay's berserker didn't like lots of angry yelling.

  There wasn't much to see. No street lights or street signs or other traffic that far away from the beaten path that late at night.

  In forty minutes they arrived at the New Forest gate which looked kind of ominous when illuminated by the blue tint car's headlights. Kay guessed that he was supposed to ring the large, rusty bell so he pulled the rope. It rang loud enough to get somebody up. Maybe even everybody. After a few minutes with no response, he pulled again.

  He had his hand on the rope to pull a third time when a small panel door slid open. Kay supposed it would be at eye level for a lot of people. He leaned down.

  "Shush it! You're goin' to wake the whole of the town!"

  "Let me in then."

  "No."

  "Yes."

  "No."

  "Look, I don't know you and I can't see you hiding behind that tiny little door, but I can tell you that, formidable as it is, this gate here is no match for a car. Either let me in or that very fine Anglish automobile over there is going to plow through the entry to Ass-on-Backward and scatter your chickens and ducks or whatever to kingdom come. It'll leave a big mess and make an even bigger noise."