The Agency, Volume II

by Sylvan, Dianne

  “It means that the person I was died with the Clan.”

  “But you could take it back. It’s not irreversible. You could leave here and you and Elora both could come with us.” There was pleading in her voice now, and he could see the conflict in her eyes. "I’m sure if you sever all your ties with this place, and undergo the appropriate purifications, the Clan will take you back—"

  “Purifications? What are you talking about?”

  “It’s the Way,” she said, as if it were obvious. “The Way of the Goddess. The Clan Council codified it when Yew was first created. There was chaos in the old days and we needed new laws to keep order.”

  “I don’t understand. There have never been codes and laws, only traditions.”

  “It was necessary. We all have to work together to save our race. So when someone strays from the path and violates the Way, they have to be purified before they can be considered part of the Clan again. Everyone who joins is initiated, and then expected to keep to the Way. It unifies and protects us. The Council makes sure of it.”

  “Or else what?”

  “It varies. Most of the time you can be let back in if you show remorse and perform the proper penance. For something like this, though…the Council might vote for leniency because of what the humans did to you, but you’d still have to be purified. It would be painful, but think about it, you’d be among your own kind again, back where you belong, not here with these…”

  She made a gesture that took in the entire Agency, and though he wanted desperately to believe she wasn't serious, the earnestness in her face dashed his hopes. He wasn’t quite sure how to react to her words, except to say, “You have got to be kidding.”

  “Father—I can’t even lawfully call you that if you aren’t part of the Clan. Not if the old you, the real you, is considered dead. This life you’re living now, it’s not acceptable. Elves don’t live with humans. They're murderers, rapists, and thieves. And the thought of you lying down with a…” She swallowed hard, then went on, “…vampire…someone who feeds on the life of others…it’s blasphemy. But you’re not to blame, and I'm sure they'll see that. I can talk to Sedna for you.”

  She wasn’t kidding. He could see it plainly, and moreover he could feel it..

  “You’re not really a warrior,” he said, feeling sick. “You’re a soldier. Police. I’m guessing you enforce this Way, according to the Council’s mandate?”

  “Someone has to. There are always those who resist, who want to go back to how things were. But we can’t. The humans have destroyed the order and harmony that we used to know. We have to do what we can to keep alive what’s left.”

  “I see.”

  Rowan looked at the girl, all that remained of his bloodline and one of the last precious remnants of his home. Her spiky white hair, her silver-blue eyes with a hint of lavender, her slender limbs; he thought of the submachine gun she’d been carrying and god knew how many other weapons she still had concealed. She was wearing a uniform just like that of the other three guards—and not all that different from the one he had on himself. She also wore a black choker with a silver insignia in its center, one he assumed either stood for the Clan as a whole or the “warriors” who enforced its laws. It was not a symbol he recognized.

  His own people. His own family. He had missed them so much, their deaths a hole in the back of his heart, kept away from everyday view but still present, still hurting.

  “All right,” he said. “Tell me more about the Way.”

  Part Eight

  Rowan was waiting in the conference room when Ness, Jason, and Beck answered his summons. He looked like he was about to jump out of his skin, and also like he’d been either crying or drinking, which immediately put Jason on edge. The Agent had to stop himself from flying to the Elf’s side to comfort him; but they were on the clock, and he had promised Ness professionalism.

  “What’s going on, SA-5?” Ness asked as they sat across from him.

  His eyes had the haunted look that they often got when he had just emerged from an episode. His energy wasn’t as discordant as it could have been, but he still felt psychically shaky, and his emotions were roiling dangerously close to the surface. An empath as strong as Rowan could send the entire base into a black depression if he lost control of his projective ability. Usually it was the receptive talent that went rogue and drove people mad, but the reverse had been known to happen.

  Rowan took a deep breath and said, “There is no way in hell we can let those people take Elora.”

  Jason and Ness exchanged looks. “Why not?” he asked. “What did Kaeli tell you?”

  He made a helpless gesture. “Those people, that Clan—they don’t even deserve to use the word Clan—they’re all under the rule of some kind of theocratic oligarchy. They have a militia, they have laws that allow what amounts to magical torture, and they hate humans. Hate them. Them and any other race that isn’t Elven.”

  “What do you mean, torture?” Ness asked.

  “Their system of punishment involves what they call purification—it’s some kind of ritual that is supposed to cleanse the transgressor of her sins. I can’t even conceive of what it really is; we’ve never used that kind of magic in all our history. All Kaeli could tell me is that it’s hideously painful and those who survive it are never the same. She seemed to think that was a good thing. This Council that’s behind it is misusing sacred power given to us at the dawn of the universe, turning it into a mockery of its purpose. If we let them take Elora they’ll force her to undergo an initiatory rite and swear to uphold this Way under pain of torture.”

  “Whoa,” Ness said, looking absolutely astonished for once. “If they hate humans so much, how can they act so much like us?”

  “It’s obscene,” Rowan said, looking torn between rage and grief but unable to process either yet. “Kaeli tried to convince me to leave and join up with them. Of course since I’ve been involved with humans so intimately and have—in the words of my own offspring—engaged in sexual deviance with an abomination against the Way, I would have to be purified and renounce my entire identity to be accepted into the loving bosom of my people.”

  “All this before they make you drink the Kool-Aid, I’m sure,” Ness muttered. “So we have a group of militant fundamentalist Elven zealots in the base. I’m doubling the security on their suite.”

  “I don’t want them anywhere near Elora. I want them gone.”

  Jason shook his head, his own bewilderment giving way to an almost cynical practicality. “We can’t just throw them out if they haven’t actually done anything, Rowan. If we do, and they’re as bad as you say, it’s likely they’ll consider it an act of war. If they’re willing to torture their own people for the sake of this cult, what kind of magic would they turn on us?”

  “What are you saying? We should let them intimidate us into giving them an innocent child?”

  “No, of course not. But we have to tread carefully here. They’re armed and they’re crazy. Historically that combination has never yielded positive results.”

  Ness seemed to agree, and fortunately despite his emotions Rowan didn’t argue. “Point taken,” the Elf said. Jason hated that he sounded so old and tired. “What do we do?”

  “Stall them,” Ness replied. “We’ll go through with the initial meeting and then draw the process out. We can tell them we’ve had contact with someone who knows where Elora’s father is - they can’t object to us wanting to reunite her with her blood kin, and I’m sure once we do find this Ardeth they’ll want a chance to indoctrinate him too.”

  “We lie our asses off to visiting dignitaries?” Jason asked.

  “Yes, we do.”

  “That’s not exactly a long-term solution.”

  “No, but it’s a perfectly legitimate reason not to turn the girl over just yet. If they try to force the issue, and show their true colors, we’ll have grounds to eject them from the premises. If not, we’ll still have a few more days to learn more about them
and see if we can find another route.”

  Rowan didn’t look satisfied, but he nodded his agreement. “I’d like to make one more recommendation—if we can spare it, have one of the Eyes divert to an internal scan. They may not have their guns, but I know they’re still dangerous. They’re using magic that has never been permitted among our people; I wouldn’t put it past them to have a whole arsenal of curses at the ready.”

  “Good idea,” Ness said. “I’ll authorize it. For now, you two code off and get some rest. We’ll proceed tomorrow as planned but with more guards and more caution. If these people think they’re going to cause trouble in my branch they’re in for quite a surprise.”

  *****

  By the time Rowan picked Elora up from day care, the girl was half-asleep from an evening’s play. He made sure she had her elephant and her Harry Potter book, which she had been reading aloud to the other children, and carried her back to his quarters with her head on his shoulder.

  Jason was there waiting for him, but said little until Elora was tucked into her makeshift bed on the couch, sleeping peacefully with an innocent, almost beatific smile on her face. Rowan stood over her a moment, his heart sickness steeling into resolve.

  Jason came to stand beside him, offering an arm, and Rowan leaned into him, saying almost to himself, "Clan Yew isn't going to lay so much as a finger on her. We'll find her another home or I'll keep her myself if I have to, but she's not going with them."

  He looked up at his lover, expecting some sort of disagreement, but the vampire's expression was also one of determination. "No, she's not," he replied, "unless it's over my cold twice-dead body and my big fucking gun."

  "Thank you," Rowan said softly, turning in the embrace to lay his head on Jason's chest. "I knew you would understand."

  Jason took his hand and led him to the bedroom, pulling the door to behind them so they could speak more freely. "I won't lie to you. I'm not too wild about the idea of having a child around, and I’m hoping we can work something else out. But if that's what you want to do, then that's what we'll do, and I'm behind you one hundred percent."

  Rowan felt tears burn in his eyes—tears of relief that Jason would so easily back him up on this. He'd known that the vampire wouldn't simply hand her over to them, but hearing his resolve to protect her made the whole situation that much more bearable. As long as Jason was on his side, his side was the one that would win through. He knew that as strongly as he knew he could never, ever set foot on the lands of Clan Yew and come back alive.

  Jason seemed to sense his confusion, and steered him gently toward the bed, helping him out of his clothes a little at a time without making it obvious he was being undressed. Before Rowan really knew what had happened, he was naked beneath the comforter, and Jason was removing the last of his uniform and joining him in the familiar, Elf-and-vampire scented nest of linens and pillows where much of their lovemaking took place.

  Rowan's bed was hung with layers of sheer fabric and tapestries that cast various tones of shadow around the room, like sleeping beneath the canopy of a tree. The bed was on a platform, and its browns and purples balanced against the pale blue walls that faded from a dark water color at the floor to the airy blue of midheaven near the ceiling. Rowan had added blackout shutters to the two bedroom windows to protect Jason, but other than that, the whole place was full of light, and air, and rest, and peace.

  They curled up under the blankets, Jason's head resting sideways on Rowans' shoulder, his hand ghosting lightly over the Elf’s bare thigh. Rowan's fingers traced circles and spirals along Jason's side and over his bicep. For a while they simply forgot where they were, and thought only of each other.

  "I love how soft your skin is right here," Jason murmured, stroking along the inside of Rowan's leg with his fingernails. "And how warm the rest of you is, all over."

  Rowan didn't reply, although he was enjoying the contact, and after a moment Jason said, as gently as before, "We're going to figure this out, Rowan. One way or another we'll find a good home for that child, and we'll come to some sort of truce with Yew, and maybe you can even convince Kaeli to come and visit someday. But it will take time. We've got matters of politics and race pride and genocide and bloodlines and families and personal vendettas and all manner of other crap tied up in this, and untying the knot will take care, but we can do it."

  The Elf sighed and burrowed into Jason’s neck, his voice muffled as he said, “The Clan I knew celebrated love in all its forms. Now only twenty years later my own daughter thinks I’m a deviant. Back when I was only a hundred or so we had other races travel through our lands all the time, and they were given respect and safe passage. Sometimes one of our own would go with them and return months or years later full of stories, passing wonders, great adventures to fire the imagination. We called them the Wanderers. Now, if someone were to wander into Clan Yew, they'd be imprisoned as a race traitor and either brainwashed back into the Clan or killed to keep it pure. How did it come to this? How can they…we…god, I don't even know who I am anymore."

  Jason said nothing for a moment, and then surprised Rowan by asking, "Can you teach me Elvish?"

  "Of course I can. I could give it to you right now. Why the sudden interest?"

  "A lot of reasons. Obviously the delegation thinks I'm a subspecies of deaf cockroach—they talk about me constantly while I'm in the room, and I know they are but I can't understand exactly what they're saying. Plus, if I don't let on that I do, they might let something slip. And it would be nice to be able to interpret the things that Elora says, like when she tells us we’re married. Also I want to know what you're screaming while you come in my mouth."

  Rowan chuckled, felt his face heating up. "Oh…well, if you put it that way, it sounds rational."

  Jason smiled and kissed him, both getting lost in the heat of each other’s lips and hands, until Rowan pulled back a little and said, “Open up and let me in.”

  “Now? All right…is there anything else I should do?”

  Rowan wrapped one leg around his middle and pulled them firmly against each other. “Don’t stop.”

  Kisses melted into kisses, and while Jason’s mouth traveled along the line of his clavicle, Rowan reached into his mind with a light touch and opened a channel between them, drawing their minds together so that he could impart the knowledge of his ancestral language to the vampire, a process remarkably like downloading music. It was easy, so easy—they had a connection already, and it seemed to become stronger with each month they were together. Two beings with the kind of power they had between them could be a force to be reckoned with, or at least an incredibly efficient partnership in the field.

  Jason gasped and froze as the entirety of the Elven language arranged itself into his head; his hands tightened around Rowan’s arms, and a tremor ran through him. “Holy…god. That was different.”

  “Languages are more intense than most other kinds of information. There are many layers involved—vocabulary, grammar, structure, even slang.”

  “It’s inverted,” Jason said, blinking, his eyes unfocused. “Your sentences are backwards and upside down, and there are so many genders.”

  “I wonder how long it will be before Clan Yew changes that too,” Rowan said with an inward shudder. “If continuing the bloodline is so damned important, how long before the only sanctioned matches are those that can reproduce? I hate this. I hate what they’re doing.”

  The vampire took in his growing anger, frowned, and returned to his earlier work, kissing and nibbling patterns over Rowan’s chest. Rowan took a deep breath and let himself feel, tried to stop worrying and stop the rising flood of bile and rage in the back of his throat, but after a moment, his head began to ache and he could feel lava building at the base of his spine, a warning sign of trouble ahead if he didn’t stop and medicate himself. Giving up, he put a hand on Jason’s head to catch his attention.

  “I…”

  Jason looked up at him for a long moment, then nodded. �
��It’s okay.” Experimentally, he switched to Elvish, and Rowan had to admit that even in the mood he was in, hearing Jason’s voice wrapped around the rise and fall of Elvish was painfully sexy. “Why don’t you lay back and relax, then, and let me give you something?”

  Rowan raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that what you were just trying to do?”

  “No, not that.” Jason extricated himself from Rowan’s arms and climbed out of the bed. He went over to the chair where the small pile of clothes and other belongings he usually brought over for the night rested; they’d reached the leaving-a-toothbrush stage but not the sharing-closets stage, it seemed, although Rowan was forever finding phantom socks in his laundry and a Ramones t-shirt had mysteriously found its way between the couch cushions last week.

  Jason reached into the pile and pulled out a pair of his favorite black cotton pants, which he usually slept in when he bothered sleeping clothed. Then, he dug to the back of the pile and withdrew a familiar curved case.