Gathering Storm

by Danann, Victoria

  He grabbed her biceps, his big hands completely circling her arms, and swung her around so that her back was against the wall. When he shoved three fingers inside her, none too gently, she went bug-eyed and gasped. The skirt was so short and the thong so tiny that he didn’t even have to work for it.

  “Oh, yeah, been there.” The words were vicious, but his actions were even more brutal. He wiggled his fingers around while her mouth hung wide open in shock. “And once was enough. See ya.”

  When he withdrew his fingers, she gasped all over again, maybe even louder. “You dick!”

  He laughed right in her face. She jerked and squeezed her eyes shut when she felt spittle.

  “That’s right, no name. You loiter outside the men’s room and make your twat that accessible, somebody’s gonna take advantage.”

  He wiped his hand on the leg of his jeans and walked off thinking that he’d done the piece a service. He hadn't left anything open for misunderstanding. Even though he didn’t remember the details of that particular encounter, he was confident that he’d been honest about his part of the bargain. He never led women on. Never said, “Sure. I’ll call,” or any such shit. It was what you might call a policy of his.

  Actually, thinking more about it, he realized he’d just schooled her up on one of the downsides to indiscriminate fucking. Yeah. He chuckled to himself. He should actually be recognized for philanthropy in the area of saving women from guys like him. Like the song says, sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind.

  Angel had never had to work for pussy. Even when his features were completely at rest, his natural intensity mimicked the look of sexually fueled passion. The promise of something forbidden radiating from those black eyes drew women like a Nordstrom going-out-of-business sale. Of course his perfectly proportioned anatomy didn't hurt either.

  When he landed himself on the streets as a young teen, he’d survived at first by stealing. It didn’t take long before other kids on the street gravitated to him. They seemed to congregate around him and then stand nearby looking at him like he was supposed to know what to do next. So he put them to work stealing for him. He liked to think of himself as a community organizer. Angel loved tongue-in-cheek.

  It wasn’t a bad gig. He found places where they could be safe to crash, some even had working plumbing. He spent enough of the proceeds on clothes and grooming so that none of the kids would ever be taken for homeless. He taught them how to look and act like suburban kids in the city for a shopping trip, thereby appearing completely non-threatening so that no mark would ever be on their guard.

  The big moneymaker was lunchtime in the shopping districts. Nicer restaurants. Women hung their purses off the backs of chairs and then got busy talking to their friends. Lots of people coming and going past tables. If somebody walked by, smoothly eased a bag off a chair back, and kept walking, no one would be the wiser until it was time to pay the check. Then the budding criminal would meet friends around the corner and pass out the plastic. By the time the credit card companies were involved, the nice-looking kids with the fresh faces and conservative clothes could have run up thousands in purchases. The cards, along with the bag and the rest of its contents - except cash – would be in a dumpster within a couple of hours.

  He ran the Fagin racket for two or three years before learning - almost by accident - that he had skills to make real money.

  One of the other boys had pocketed a deck of playing cards on the way out of a convenience store, even though that kind of minimum return risk was strictly against Angel’s rules. The other kid taught him the rules of poker.

  There was no way to judge how good he was, playing other street kids. He could beat them, all of them, without trying, but that didn’t tell him what he needed to know. So he asked around about low stakes street games. Nothing fancy. Something affordable with a cap on bets. He took the gang’s take for the week, which was a big gamble in itself, and tripled the money. Since the other kids had provided the funding – even though they hadn’t known about the plan, he divided the total take in half, kept half for himself and split the other half equally among the others, which meant they profited as well.

  Within six months he had enough money to play with big boys. Maybe not the biggest boys, but hefty nonetheless.

  When it came to poker, Angel was special. Even more so than he ever could have imagined because that talent was the result of demon blood that enhanced his intuitive ability.

  If he’d been satisfied with playing poker, he could have led a cushy, carefree life and had anything he wanted with minimal effort. He’d already made more money than his parents would earn in their lifetime.

  There was just one little problem. Angel liked betting on the horses. He liked it even more than playing poker but unlike poker, he didn’t always win. After a while he fell into a cycle of addiction. The only reason he played poker was to get money to bet on horses, which he was sure to lose.

  While he could always pull a win with poker, because the energy of cards is static, the energy of living things - like horses - was unstable. Horses have fluctuations in their biological and psychic patterns and they come with personality factors just like all mammals. Some days they feel like running. Some days they don't. Some days they have to win. Some days they don't mind being second. Then there are the unforeseeable factors like accidents that complicate things even more.

  Even though a life ruled by compulsion wasn’t a recipe for happiness, it could have been okay. All he had to do was bet the track with poker winnings and go home. But the fever escalated beyond that and he ended up borrowing. No matter how much he won at poker, he could always manage to lose more at the track. From the outside looking in, it was an exquisite form of psychological masochism.

  He’d had some close calls with the shark, the guy he called Baph, but he’d always managed it out before it got too dicey and won enough to pay off his debts in money, not blood. At least that was what had always happened before.

  CHAPTER 8

  Just like every day, Deliverance came at half past nine so that he’d have half an hour to play with Rosie before taking Storm to Jefferson Unit. At ten, Storm picked up his beautiful three-year-old and gave her smooches on her ticklish little neck until she laughed hysterically.

  “Say bye Daddy,” he prompted.

  “Bye Daddy.”

  “See you later.”

  “See you later.”

  Litha’s emerald eyes seemed to sparkle with iridescence whenever she watched that exchange. When Storm turned toward her, she was clearly eager for her turn. She got a sweet and thorough kiss and giggled like Rosie when he turned around and came back for another.

  Storm left with a grin on his face, loving every second of his two emerald-eyed girls waving goodbye. It was a vision so perfect that it burned into his memory like a brand. It would be a memory that he would recall thousands of times.

  The trip from the Black Swan Vineyard on the Pacific Coast to Jefferson Unit at Fort Dixon, New Jersey normally took about three minutes. According to the habit they had already formed, Deliverance created a portal in his mind just outside the Sovereign’s office at J.U. before taking Storm in tow by gripping his son-in-law’s forearm.

  Perhaps the demon became relaxed in the habit. Perhaps there was interference from another entity traveling the same network of passes. The reason is less important than the result, which was that Deliverance arrived outside Sol’s office alone.

  The demon was over eight hundred years old and, in all that time, he’d never once had reason to panic. The rise of that emotion, common to humans, was as shocking and dramatic to him as a heart attack might be to a man.

  Glen was just glancing at his watch when his door was opened without a knock. Deliverance looked stricken and the expression was made more alarming by the fact that his olive complexion looked wan.

  “Have you seen Storm?”

  Glen’s brows pulled down into a scowl.

  “No.” Though he was gettin
g a very bad feeling about the exchange, he posed his next question evenly and deliberately. “Have you?”

  Deliverance was looking a little wild-eyed. “Um. Yes. He was with me?”

  Glen stood up slowly. Calm. Remain calm. “What do you mean was with you?”

  It was a good thing that Glen was calm because the incubus was headed toward full-fledged hysteria. Not because he was tight with his son-in-law, but because he knew his little girl would be every possible version of angry about Storm getting himself lost en route.

  “I mean I picked him up at home, but he’s not here!! What else might I mean, human?!?”

  Glen’s hands had involuntarily curled into fists and his molars were clenched shut so tight he felt like he had lockjaw. “Deliverance. What are our options?”

  “I don’t know! Nothing like this has ever happened before. Maybe there’s a reason why we don’t carry inferior…”

  “DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT FINISHING THAT SENTENCE! THIS IS NO TIME FOR BETTER-THAN-YOU BULLSHIT!”

  “Okay.”

  “Options. THINK!” Deliverance stared straight ahead, frozen. Nothing was forthcoming. “Can you retrace your route and find him?”

  “No. The passes aren’t stationary. They’re like… I don’t know, tides? They move around. He could be any one of a thousand places.”

  “So how do you propose we find him?”

  The demon was fidgeting from side to side like a child who’d been caught doing something very naughty. “Search party?”

  Glen was infuriated and looked it, but did his best to keep a handle on the emotion. “Search party. Okay. Good. Good. Who are you going to get to search?”

  “Friends?”

  “I’m very glad to hear you have friends, demon. You need to get started on that pronto, but first you’ve got to let Litha know what’s going on.”

  Deliverance was shaking his head from side to side violently. “No.”

  “That is NOT an option. She has to know and she has to know now. For one thing, she’s going to want to help look for him. Have her bring Rosie here. We’ll look after her.” The demon didn’t respond. “You’re wasting valuable time. Man up and go tell your daughter you lost her husband.” Still no reaction. “If you’re waiting for me to offer to go with you…?” Glen finished that thought by chuffing out a disgusted breath and reached for the phone. “I can call her, but she’s never going to respect you again if she hears this from me over the phone.”

  Glen looked down to speed dial. When he looked back up, the demon was gone.

  Rosie was playing on the kitchen floor. Litha was emptying the dishwasher, when she felt the atmosphere shift. Storm always wondered why she was never startled by the demon’s popping in and out. It was because she had enough demon blood to sense the change when another entity opened a portal into her immediate environment.

  Litha turned toward him. “Dad. Why are you back so…?” The question hung in the air when she got a look at his face. “What’s happened?”

  She’d never seen Deliverance look so unsettled and it scared her. “Is it Storm?” Oh gods. His lips parted and he looked like a person who had something to say and couldn’t decide how to say it. Losing patience, she took a step toward him. “Say it. What’s wrong? Where’s Storm?”

  He was shaking his head just a little. “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know? What do you mean you don’t know?”

  “We left here…”

  “I know that.”

  “And I was the only one who…”

  Litha felt her knees go weak and had to grab onto the countertop behind her. “You didn’t lose him in the passes.” She felt tears well up. Litha hated tears. She hated looking weak. She hated feeling weak. She hated crying. And she hated her father for making her feel everything she was feeling at that moment. She whispered, “Please tell me you didn’t lose him in the passes.”

  “I’m going to form a… a search party.” Litha’s eyes glazed over. “Glen said I should come tell you first, that you would want to help look, and to bring Rosie to him. He said they would take care of her.”

  There was no response. Litha’s eyes continued to be out of focus. She looked dazed. As a frequent traveler of the passes, she had every good reason to react that way.

  Deliverance glanced at Rosie who was looking at him with accusation all over her little face. It was an odd look on a toddler. He was starting to get a little worried about Litha’s reaction. Or lack of.

  “Litha. I know this is bad, but I’ll fix it. I’ll get him back. I promise.”

  She blinked. Once. Twice. Then slowly her eyes slid toward his.

  “You’re damned right you will. You’ll find him if it’s the last thing you ever do.”

  Litha didn’t know it was possible to be so angry or so scared. The combination of two such powerful emotions smacking up against each other was debilitating. She felt like her body was going to go on overload and explode.

  “Who’s in this search party? And how are they going to look for him?”

  “I need something personal so his life imprint can be read, something he’s worn maybe. I’ll call in some favors, go to the Sylphic Warriors first. They’ll be the fastest.”

  “I know some angels who will help.”

  “ANGELS!?!”

  “YES!!! And you will work with them and you will like it.” He crossed his arms over his chest in a huff and pouted like a petulant teen. “Save it. I’m warning you.” She stood up straight even though she was feeling a little lightheaded. “Watch Rosie while I go get something of Storm’s.”

  In a couple of minutes she returned with a black tee shirt that hadn’t been laundered yet.

  “Will this do?” He took the shirt, closed his eyes for a second, and nodded. “I’m taking Rosie to Elora. Then I’m going looking for my husband. We need a system so that we don’t have people looking in the same place and a way to cross off dimensions that have been checked.”

  She was thinking while she was gathering up Rosie’s things. She called Glen. When he answered she said, “You’re going to be our point person. You’re the best one for the job.”

  “Whatever you need.”

  “We’ll be there in a couple of minutes. Will you please contact Elora for me and let her know I’m bringing Rosie to her?”

  “Yes. See you in a few.”

  Litha handed two bags full of stuff to Deliverance. “Carry these.” Rosie reached up as her mother bent to lift her. Coolly, but to the point she ground out, “I’ll bring her.”

  In his office, Litha briefed Glen on the only plan they had. Glen then sent Barrock to set up two smart boards in the conference room and declare the floor off limits to everyone except himself, Sir Hawking and Lady Laiken.

  “Until further notice, no one gets off the elevator on this level. Is that understood?” Barrock nodded and turned to leave. “And Barrock?”

  “Yes, Si…Glen?”

  “Whatever you may have overheard, this secret is a real secret. Do you understand me?”

  “I do.”

  Elora arrived within a few minutes. She looked like her level of shock rivaled Litha’s.

  “Come to Auntie.” She reached for her namesake and Rosie leaned toward her. To Litha she said, “I can call Baka and get the vampire to join the search if that will help.”

  Litha had held it together, but when she opened her mouth to tell Elora yes, a choked sort of garbled noise came out instead. Rosie reacted to her mother’s distress by starting to cry. Elora shushed Rosie and reached out to wrap Litha in the arm that wasn’t holding the toddler.

  “We’ll find him. He’s married to the best tracker in the world. Everybody knows that.”

  Litha nodded. It was more a signal of resolve than agreement. She shushed Rosie again lovingly and gave her a round of kisses on her pretty plump cheek. “S’okay, baby.”

  Glen began interrogating Deliverance in an attempt to apply logic to the proposition of looking for a nee
dle in a meadow full of haystacks. While he was doing that, Litha went to find Kellareal and enlist his help. Elora stepped out in the hall to call Baka. She kissed the little fingers that tried to grab the phone while she waited for him to answer.

  “Lady Laiken.”

  “We’re going to need your boys.”

  "Should I ask?"

  “That demon lost Storm.”

  “What do you mean lost?” Silence. “Oh.” Like everybody else, Baka’s first thought was, Gods. Not him.

  “Where do you want us?”

  “Sol’s conference room. Soon as you can.”

  “Litha?”

  Elora looked back toward the conference room. “Um, holding up. She’s gone to get help looking. I’ve got the baby.”

  “Okay. We’ll be there.”

  “Hey. Wait. Not that I don’t always want to see you, but we need pass riders. I’m afraid the rest of us are benched for this one.”

  “If I really can’t be of help, I may not stay, but I’ll at least come and say something to Litha.” He paused. “Rammel’s going to…”

  “Be hard to handle. I know.”

  “The main thing is to bring Jean-Etienne so he can ride herd.”

  “Agreed.” He hesitated to hang up. “This is… I feel…”

  “Yeah. Same here.”

  She hung up. Ram would probably be finishing his workout and heading back to the apartment. She ducked back into the conference room. “Going home to tell Ram.” Glen stopped when the weight of that sunk in and nodded. “Don’t be surprised if he shows up down here and tries to take over.”

  “Honestly. I’d like his help.”

  Elora noticed that all of a sudden Glen looked a good bit older than twenty.

  By the time Ram reached the conference room, it was as noisy as a political convention. Elementals, angels, demons of every sort, and a few unidentifiable species, all talking and arguing at the same time and not necessarily in the same language.

  Litha sat in a chair looking shell shocked. Glen stood at one of the smart boards with a pointer in hand, hoping for an excuse to feel useful.