“But when I did that, I could see the way out. It was strange. I was askin’ myself why I had no’ seen the way out before. He had my necklace, but when I stepped into the passes, I found I did no’ need it. I just knew the way back to the house in Dublin.”
She stopped and smiled at Torn, only then realizing that she’d drawn a small crowd that was enraptured by her tale of escape. Not being used to public speaking, she immediately became shy.
Rosie, who’d caught most of the story standing back at a distance, said, “You see? The O’Malleys can take care of themselves.”
One by one the hunters welcomed Sher back.
“You sure he’s not coming after her?” Blue asked Rosie.
“I’m not sure about that,” Rosie replied. “But by the end of the day, I’m going to feel pretty good about Sher and Shy being equipped to handle whatever jumps up.”
The twins looked at each other and had a silent dialogue that only the two of them were privy to. After another brief hug, Sheridan turned to take Torn’s hand and interlaced her fingers with his.
“Let’s get started,” Rosie said.
They began by discussing the difference between slips and portals.
“Come on. We’re gonna take a field trip. Buddy system. Your partners are your buddies.
“We’re going to Edinburgh via a slip. Then we’re going to access one of the portals under the Walter Scott Monument. Stay close. If we get separated, come back here. If you didn’t want dinner or breakfast or juice or coffee, you won’t need your necklaces today. But I want you to be in the habit of having them with you. Everybody got your homing device?”
They all nodded assent.
“Save your questions. When we get to the portal at Edinburgh, we’ll stop and talk.”
The hunters didn’t bother to feign sophistication. They gaped openly when the portal opened into a busy elemental thoroughfare.
“Where did all these…?” Rosie heard one of the hunters begin to ask.
She smiled. “Elementals. There are angels, demons, sylphs, gnomes, and, well, you know the list.” They didn’t necessarily know that list, but she continued anyway. “When we were figuring out how you were going to chase down intruders, I guess I overlooked the limitations in your internal gauge calibrations. Elementals’ vibrations adjust to circumstances and environment automatically. You couldn’t see the activity because they were moving faster, too fast for you to follow physically or visually. Like I said, this is a shakedown cruise. We’re figuring it out one mistake at a time.”
“Real encouraging,” Blue muttered to his partner.
Rosie looked at Blue. “I hope the biggest hurdles are behind us. But if not, we’re in it together. Wish I could tell you something more conclusive.”
“Hey,” Mo said. “We’re pioneers. And eternal youth isn’t all bad. Preserving this fabulous form forever is worth a couple of hiccups.” When he struck a couple of bodybuilder poses, his partner shoved him so that he lost his balance.
“Seriously,” Deck leaned toward Finngarick, “the curiosity seems to be focused on our partners.”
Torn’s keen awareness had come to the same conclusion. “I know. We’ll talk to Rosie about it later.”
Deck nodded.
“Okay.” Rosie clapped her hands. “Here’s your first assignment. Go to your elementary school library.” While she talked she handed out hundred dollar bills. One to each hunter. “Take a book, but leave a hundred dollars with the librarian. Since you’re staying with your partners, that will be two library stops each. And this is important, so listen up. Do it without causing a stir.
“Just before you step into Loti Dimension, you’ll have an opaque view into the world you’re about to enter. Like a thin veil between you and the destination. Check and make sure you’re not going to surprise anybody. If you are, move around until you find a secluded spot. Or moment.”
She looked at her watch. “Meet back at the Abbey in two hours. Anybody want lunch today?” Everybody shook their heads. “Alright. Consider this a bonding exercise with your partners. You’ll get to figure out traveling like demons and see where your partner went to school as a child. Win. Win.”
“Questions?”
“Yeah,” Blue said. “Are we likely to encounter any other, ah, elementals who’d want to interact with us?”
“In a confrontational way?”
“Well, that, or even, ‘Hey. Haven’t seen you around. What kind of demon are you?’ sort of way.”
She pursed her lips. “That’s a probability. I don’t have a count. I’m not sure anybody does. But if I had to guess, I’d say that there are no more than a thousand elementals altogether. Not so many that everybody doesn’t know everybody else, at least on sight if not personally. New demons don’t happen very often. Sixteen new demons is a veritable population explosion that’s bound to cause a ripple.
“Like people, some are more outgoing, more social, than others. If you’re approached by other elementals who want to know who you are and what kind of demon you are, just say, ‘I’m a newbie. I work for Rosie Storm and I’m on a time-sensitive errand. Catch up later?’ and keep moving.
“If your change turns out to be permanent, eventually you’re going to know everybody. Annnnnnd what they’re up to. That’s going to make your D.I.T. job a piece of cake. Word will get around that Loti Dimension is patrolled by sixteen demons who are serious about keeping the mischief confined to the natives.”
“So everybody knows you?” Asked by Bailey Cruz, one of the young recruits that Rosie stole from the vampire hunters.
“They do.” She nodded. “Because my genetic makeup is more or less, um, unique.”
“What if they speak a different language?” Bailey asked, growing either bolder or more curious.
Rosie snapped her fingers and hit her head with the heel of her hand. “Forgot about that. You can speak every language.”
The hunters looked shocked.
Finally Shivaun cleared her throat and said, “Every language?”
“Yeah,” Rosie nodded. “Every language in Loti Dimension and every language in every dimension.”
Mo looked at his partner and grinned. “That’s a good trick.”
“Indeed it is,” Rosie said. “Use it wisely. Those of you who were vampire hunters, remember you’re not just warriors anymore. Now you’re diplomats first.”
The Northern Irish village of Dunkilly had a single campus for primary and secondary education and it didn’t look particularly well-funded. Sher had sensed Finngarick tense when Rosie had said to collect a souvenir from childhood. She said nothing about it, but resolved to make sure he knew he was supported.
School was closed when they arrived. So being seen wasn’t an issue. Neither was the fact that the lights were out, because they discovered that, among other amazing enhancements, they could see in near-dark conditions.
“What book would you like to get?” Sher asked.
“Does it matter?” She shook her head. “Well, then.” Without taking his eyes away from her, he reached out to the stack standing on his right and withdrew a book. He handed it to Sher and smiled. “What did I choose?”
She looked down at the book cover. “Cú Chulainn. Suits you.”
Torn cocked his head. “Suits me?”
She beamed. “A great Irish legend. Like you.”
His first reaction was to accuse her of joking, but he could tell by reading her energy that she was not. She actually believed him to be special. And the knowledge of that almost knocked the wind out of him. Torn had known he’d been mightily blessed the day he realized Sheridan O’Malley was his mate, but he’d never expected to be compared to a great hero, admired on such a grand scale by anyone.
He couldn’t prove that he was a few inches taller, but he felt a few inches taller.
“Sher. I’m no’…”
She pressed two fingers to his lips to shush him. “You’re far more than you give yourself credit for. And I can pro
ve it.”
Torn chuckled. “How can you prove it?”
“Where’s the pub?”
He smirked. “What makes ye think there’s a pub?”
“My tutor told me. There’s a pub in every village.”
“Well, she’d be right. Why do ye want to go there? I fear you’ll find that people do no’ think as much of me as you do. And I’m no’ sure I want you to see that.”
“Trust me. I know what I’m doin’.”
“Very well. I find that I have a very hard time sayin’ no to you.”
She laughed and took his hand. “Old school. Let’s walk.”
“Whatever you say.”
It was an easy ten minute walk to the pub in the late afternoon. The work day had ended for most people, but it was still light out. They passed a few people on their way who stared unabashedly. Some looked confused, like they were trying to remember how they knew Torn, but couldn’t place it.
The pub was noisy, smoky, and crowded.
“Show me a peer.”
“A peer?”
“Somebody close to your age.”
Torn looked around for a minute and then pointed to a man standing at the bar.
“What’s his name?”
“Arlan.”
“Who was he to you?”
Torn shrugged, but Sheridan’s mate sense read the pain he was covering up.
“Just another kid who made me want to be someplace else,” he said.
“Was he liked by the others?”
“Liked?” He smiled ruefully. “Oh, aye. He was thought to be the sauce by young and old alike.”
“And that means…”
Torn glanced away. “Golden lad. Ringleader. Respected family.”
“Very well. Come on.”
She started toward the bar where Arlan was hunched over a pint.
“Wait!” Finngarick grabbed her and pulled her close enough so that he could talk into her ear and only she could hear. “I’m no’ lookin’ for a reunion with,” he glanced toward the bar, “that fucker.”
Sher’s eyes danced. “Well, you can no’ always get what you want. I sense you’re havin’ a hard time trustin’ me and that can no’ be helped. But you will come with me like it or no’.”
Torn pulled away and set his jaw, trying to decide whether he was going to let her have her way or not. “Since it seems all fired important to ye, I’m goin’ along with ye this time. But do no’ make a habit of tellin’ me what I will or will no’ be doin’.”
Sher smiled, batted her lashes, and got on her toes to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Understood.”
Arlan was leaning against the old worn bar with both elbows when Sher approached on his left side.
“Arlan?” she asked brightly.
He turned his head toward her. “Do I know you?” His gaze flicked to Torn standing behind her, slightly off to the side. As Arlan’s gray eyes traveled over Torn, Sher thought she saw a flicker of recognition.
“I’m Sheridan O’Malley. My mate and I are in town for a few minutes and I asked to stop into the pub. He grew up here. Torrent Finngarick? You remember him?”
Arlan looked past Sher again. “Finngarick?” He ran a hand over a day’s growth of bristle on his weathered face. Sher couldn’t help thinking he looked so much older than Torn. “Aye. You look, em, different,” he said to Torn.
“I am different,” Torn supplied.
Sher cast a warning look his way and he shrugged.
“Let us buy you, em,” she looked at the special of the day, “a cod and cabbage supper. Maybe another pint.” He looked down at the pint he was working. She pointed to a snug in the corner. “We could sit over there. Catch up a bit durin’ the short time we’re here?”
Arlan looked at Torn again and took a sip from his mug before saying, “I might do with supper and another pint.”
“Very nice of you,” Sher said. “Let’s grab the table before somebody else gets it.”
Arlan snorted at that. Sher supposed that meant the pub wasn’t expecting a big crowd for dinner. She told the bartender to bring over one supper and three pints then waved for Arlan to lead the way.
Torn held her back when she started to walk after Arlan. “We do no’ have any money.” He raised a well-shaped eyebrow.
After pursing her lips in thought, she said, “I’ll go to the ‘ladies’ and get some,” she offered. Torn shook his head for several beats before nodding. For an odd combination of gestures, he made himself clear.
When they were seated, Sher turned to Arlan. “So what have you been doin’ since school?”
“Fishin’ with my da. And my grandda on days when he’s up to it.”
“That’s nice. A family business. Bet it’s excitin’.” Arlan looked at Sher like she must have escaped the looney bin. “Is that what you always wanted to do?”
Arlan shrugged and looked around the room. “Suppose.” It was evident that Arlan had never thought about what he might want to do. And there was a good chance no one had ever asked him that question before.
“Well, what else have you been up to? Done much travelin’?”
He glanced at Torn then looked at Sher. “Went to Derry once.”
“That’s an adventure.”
“Oh, aye, ’twas.”
Sher waited for him to continue. When he didn’t, she said, “Soooooo. What do you do for fun around here?”
“I do no’ spend a lot of time contemplatin’ fun. I work. I have my pint and my supper. I go home. One day becomes another.”
“Well, no matter. You’ll always be better than Finngarick here. Right? At least there’s that.”
A little light came into Arlan’s eyes. He looked at Torn. “Aye. There’s that.”
Sher sighed then elbowed Torn. “I need to run to the ladies’,” she said pointedly.
He let her out, sat back down, and passed time silently with a man who’d helped make his childhood a bitter memory.
Just before Sher returned, Arlan said, “Somethin’ wrong with your pint?”
Torn looked from Arlan to the mug in front of him then back to Arlan. “Aye. Like everythin’ else in this town, it blows.”
Sher appeared before Arlan could think of an answer. She placed Irish pound notes on the table and said, “Arlan. ’Twas so nice to meet you. Sorry we have to go, but time’s up. Enjoy your supper.” She smiled. “And your life. Such as it is.”
Outside in the street in front of the pub, Torn said, “What in Paddy’s name was that about, Sher? He’ll always be better than I?”
It was dark and the evening air was chilly in the North Sea town of Dunkilly, but Torn and Sher were no longer susceptible to discomfort because of weather. Nor did they have any trouble seeing each other’s faces as if it was light of day.
Sher cocked her head. “Do you no’ get it, love?”
Torn’s brows came together and tiny lines formed, but they were temporary because he was beyond the vagaries of wrinkles. “Get what?”
“Arlan is just a small samplin’ of the town that did you wrong, the first one we happened on. We would find a similar story amongst the others if we had time and inclination to pursue it. The fact is that Arlan works on the family fishin’ boat every day then hunches over a pint alone at night. He’s ne’er been more than two hours away from home. He’s ne’er done a single thing that would make a lastin’ impression on the world.
“You, on the other hand, have been all over the world as a human and across dimensions as a demon. You’ve battled the monsters that people like Arlan do no’ even know exist and done your part to keep the world’s residents safe at night. Done so many things. Seen so many things.” She grinned. “And ye have me.”
As Sher had talked Torn felt his chest swelling with self-esteem and gratitude. She was a hundred percent right. He’d gladly live through every minute of his life again if it would bring him to that exact moment when he stood on the street outside the pub in Dunkilly looking into the face of t
he most precious treasure imaginable.
He didn’t trust himself to speak, but showed her how he felt by pulling her into a kiss so fervently felt, long, sweet, deep.
“’Tis your turn. Did you go to a school with a library?”
She laughed and shook her head. “We had a school and the school had books. No library as such, but it’ll do.”
“I can no’ wait for you to show me your home.”
“You’ll love it.”
He nodded, cupped her face with his hands and ran a thumb over her cheek, just for the pleasure of touching and marveling at what a wonder she was. “I know I will.”
All the hunters made it back to the Abbey with a show-and-tell souvenir except for one hunter who found a convenience store in the location where his elementary school had been.
“That’s a valuable lesson,” Rosie told the group. “Razz, what did you picture when you traveled through the passes to get to your elementary school?”
“The school,” he replied.
“But when you arrived it wasn’t there.” He nodded. “So your internal navigation system led you to the location where it had been. I don’t know that you’ll ever need that tidbit, but if it turns out that you’re perma-demons, at some point you might need to know that’s how it works.
“Anybody hungry yet?” They shook their heads. “Sleepy? Thirsty?”
“Horny,” said Mo.
Rosie laughed. “That doesn’t go away. As long as you’re not feeling any of the other physical drives, it’s safe to say you can travel like a born elemental. But if you ever feel the slightest craving, put yourself on the D.L. until we sort you out.
“Although, an occasional desire to eat may not mean you’re reverting. Some demons may go for hundreds of years without eating and then suddenly have an inexplicable desire for, say, meatloaf.”
Torn shook his head. “If you say so.”
Irish War Cry (Order of the Black Swan D.I.T. Book 3) Page 7
