by Sara DeHaven
CHAPTER NINE
Bree collapsed on her couch and took a nap when she got home. She woke up feeling less emotionally overwhelmed, but restless and depressed. She dragged a feather on a string around for Hanroi for awhile, tried and failed to read a book, considered going outside to do some weeding in the garden in spite of the light rain outside, then gave up on that idea as the rain worsened. She finally turned on the TV, looking for the news, figuring she was already in such a bad mood, she might as well find out how many people had gotten hurt in the riot last night. After some fruitless channel surfing, she finally hit on a talking heads political show. She caught the tail end of a clip of what looked like it might have been the flash mob last night. The host of the show was addressing a question to a smallish, slender man in a conservative suit. He looked to be in his fifties, had dark hair parted on the side, prominent ears, and a somber look on his face. “The response to these outbreaks has been completely inadequate. We are seeing them up and down the West Coast, and there were two in New York and one in Charleston last week. What we’re looking at here is the break down of law and order in our country. Our young people are out of control. They have no sense of morality, no sense of values.”
“And what do you see as the solution, Senator Morton?”
“We need a return to law and order, to civility and good old fashioned family values,” the Senator responded, leaning forward earnestly. “There’s been an evolving sense of permissiveness, of moral ambiguity in the liberal concept of political correctness that’s left our people, especially our young people, without a sense of right and wrong.”
The program host displayed an edged, challenging smile as he replied, “Senator, how do you propose to address such a problem, if that is indeed the correct characterization of the problem, in the political arena?”
“Good legislation has a place in the solution,” the Senator insisted, brown eyes intent. “But the first order of business is restoring public order. This kind of civil unrest has a way of spreading. Local law enforcement must be allowed to use whatever means necessary to disperse these so-called ‘flash mobs.’ And there have to be tougher penalties in the court system for this kind of thing. I see this as pointing to a need for an overhaul of the legal system. We’ve gone too far down the path of coddling criminals in the name of their civil rights. Why do you think young people engage in this kind of behavior? They don’t expect to pay any real consequences. Keep in mind that people are getting killed in these riots as well as seriously injured.”
As she listened to the Senator talking, Bree found herself turning on her Reader sense. She winced at the pain it caused her, but she had an instinct that what she was hearing was important. She usually avoided reading political figures, it was too depressing. They so seldom were actually sincere in what they were saying, they had to be far too cautious for that. Also, reading someone on TV was less reliable than doing so in person. She couldn’t get any feel for their energy, and the subtleties of change in coloring on the face caused by changes in blood flow wasn’t typically visible on television. But she found a quick read of Senator Morton was enough to give her a deep sense of disquiet. This man had a coldness to him, something very calculating and without emotion. He gave her the creeps to such a degree that she wondered if he were possessed.
Then it hit her. This was it, this was what the Keltoi wanted from aiding and abetting a demon war. If social unrest became bad enough, it furthered certain political agendas. When people didn’t feel safe, they voted to make a change to whoever promised them safety. This Senator Morton was probably only one of a group of politicians looking to capitalize on the situation. Not to mention the ‘law and order’ angle. She had a vision of all the abuses to civil rights that could engender. How much easier to control people when they were afraid and didn’t have their usual legal protections? She tried to tell herself she was being paranoid, but she had a gut feeling she was right.
She got up and reached for the phone, got most of the way to dialing Dion’s number when she stopped herself. If she talked to Dion, he might have questions about what had happened on the beach with Daniel last night. She needed to be prepared for that. And besides, Dion was so much more politically savvy than her, she doubted it would take him long to come to the same conclusions she had.
She put down the phone with a feeling of frustration. She hated that she was keeping something from Dion. The thought she’d been pushing away all afternoon intruded on her as she huddled in the chair by the phone. Maybe she shouldn’t keep the secret any more. Maybe what Gelsenim had told her about Daniel meant she shouldn’t be protecting Daniel, let alone working with him so closely. She had thought him uniquely capable of solving the puzzle of demons, of making real progress towards eliminating, once and for all, demon possessions. That was why she’d been helping him. Now she thought he might also be uniquely vulnerable to being hurt by them. It made her physically ill to think of him being neutered or, more likely, killed by the Ecclesias.
But what if that truly was the right course? That would mean it’s over, a part of her mind whispered. Any hope you had of things working out with him would be over. She sprang restlessly out of the chair and turned off the TV, then stood looking out the window, emotions in a horrible tangle. Then the phone rang.
She startled at the sound, which only went to show how wound up she was. She considered not answering. She was in such a black mood right now, she didn’t trust herself to be civil to whoever was calling. On the other hand, anything that interrupted her current chain of thought would be welcome. Before she could think it through any further, she checked and saw it was an unknown number. So not Dion or Javier. “Hello?” she answered.
“Is this Bree?” A man’s voice was on the line, someone she didn’t know, though the voice sounded vaguely familiar.
“This is she,” she answered cautiously.
“Bree, hi, it’s Leander. Leander Rayne. We met at Bruce and Sophie’s party.”
“Oh yeah, hi. How are you?” Bree answered nervously. She was caught off guard by the call. She’d gotten the feeling at the party that Leander might be interested in her, but had changed his mind after talking to Daniel.
“I’m good. Listen, I was calling to see if you might want to go out for coffee sometime this week. To be honest, being new in town, I haven’t met many people yet, and I really enjoyed talking to you at the party, so I thought what the heck?”
Bree’s mind raced. It had been so long since she’d dated, she wondered if she was reading the situation correctly. Going out for coffee sounded like it might be friend oriented rather than dating oriented. Wouldn’t he have invited her to dinner if he wanted to ask her out on a date? On the other hand, maybe coffee was a sort of pre-date date. Meeting to see if they might be interested in each other. “Um, sure, when did you have in mind?” she found herself answering.
“I work freelance, so I’m pretty flexible. Maybe Wednesday?”
“Wednesday is a long day for me at work,” Bree answered. Seized by a sudden impulse, she said, “Hey, maybe this is crazy, but how this afternoon? Or tonight? My week is pretty packed, but I have time today. And to be honest, I could use the distraction.”
“Oh dear, that sounds dire,” Leander’s humor tinged voice came over the line.
Bree wanted to kick herself for that little revelation as well as for her invitation to meet today. She had no intention of sharing her dilemma about Daniel with this virtual stranger. And how desperate did it sound to suggest they meet today?
“I just had a weird night last night,” she temporized. Maybe she could tell him a little about what went down with the riot. Being powered, he’d understand her being called in. And besides, she really was still upset about what had happened.
“Sounds like there’s a story there. And I’m up for meeting today. Where would you like to meet?”
“Where are you?” she countered. She didn’t want to invite him to one of her favorite neighborhood spots. H
e was too much of an unknown. What if he turned out to be a jerk? She wouldn’t want him showing up at her favorite café forever after.
“I’m downtown. I live in Pioneer Square.”
“That’s cool. I don’t get downtown enough. How about we meet near your place?”
“There’s a coffee shop a couple of blocks away, called Rolly’s, on Second, near Cherry. Do you know that intersection?”
“Yeah, I know where you mean.”
“I’m afraid parking can be a pain,” Leander put in hesitantly.
“Well, at least it’s Sunday, so it’s free,” Bree replied. “So, what time?”
“I don’t know. Before dinner or after?”
“If I’m going to indulge in real caffeine, I’d vote before. Is an hour too soon? Four o’clock?”
“No, that’s great. It’s fun to be spontaneous like this.”
“Okay then, I’ll see you in an hour.”
Bree hung up after getting down his number. She felt a tinge of nervous excitement overshadowing her earlier agitation. She knew she was just running away from her own feelings, but she didn’t care. She really did want the distraction. And what would it harm? All her problems would be there for her when she got home. She couldn't run away from the dilemma of Daniel if she tried. She did a quick freshen up in the bathroom, then grabbed her keys and purse and headed out the door.
She arrived at the coffee shop fifteen minutes early. Traffic had been lighter than she expected, and she’d scored an on street parking spot only five blocks away. The coffee shop was on the ground floor of one of the older brick buildings in this historic part of downtown. Most of the brick and stone buildings in the Pioneer Square neighborhood originated in the 1890’s, making them old by Seattle standards. The neighborhood was an odd amalgam of high end restaurants, shops catering to tourists, art galleries and bars and music clubs that attracted college age partiers. There was also a very visible homeless population, and it had a reputation as a good place to score drugs, especially at night. She loved the old buildings, with their nineteenth century stone ornamentation, and she liked that not all of the neighborhood was polished and tidy for the tourists. On the other hand, she didn’t consider it the safest neighborhood. The streets were pretty quiet on this Sunday afternoon, but she was alert and aware of her surroundings during her short walk to the coffee shop.
Rolly’s was long, narrow and dark toward the back. The plaster walls were painted orange, and the work of some local artist was exhibited, along with little tags listing the price of each painting. The work tended toward disembodied doll heads and naked women in odd poses, not a style Bree found appealing.
There was a long wooden counter with a denuded selection of baked goods displayed. Apparently, this late on a Sunday, all the good stuff was picked over. The smell of coffee was pleasant, though, and the black board behind the counter proudly proclaimed that Rolly’s roasted it’s own.
The barista behind the counter was a blond man in his twenties with a square head, short hair and a pierced eyebrow. He gave her a friendly smile as she ordered a caramel macchiato. She knew it was crazy for her to order espresso this late in the day, especially when she already felt a little like she was on speed. She was edgy, anxious, excited, and she had the sense that she was moving headlong toward indulging whatever impulse might make her feel better.
She was eyeing the left over muffins and scones doubtfully when Leander came up beside her. No green suede pants this time, she noted. He was dressed in grey washed jeans, a white t-shirt and a faded coral, green and white striped button down shirt left unbuttoned. Though it was a casual outfit, the colors were so clearly flattering to his particular shade of red hair and pale skin tone that Bree got the distinct sense it was very carefully chosen. He had a brown coat draped over one arm.
“Hey, you must have found parking pretty quick,” he said with a smile.
“Yeah, I got majorly lucky,” she answered as she dug in her purse to pay the barista for her coffee. Leander didn't interfere, which Bree took to be one of those little hints that this was maybe a friend date, not a date date.
He ordered an orange mocha, an unexpectedly frou frou drink for a man. They made small talk about the coffee and the neighborhood as the barista made Leander’s drink, then repaired to a table by the front window. There were only three other people in the shop, two women, both in black, chatting a couple of tables away, and a young man in back, typing away on a laptop. The shop was a few blocks down from the center of the action, and apparently too far from the main drag to attract a crowd on a Sunday afternoon.
“So you asked me all about my job at the party, but I never really got to hear about what you do,” Bree said, opening a more personal conversation once they were seated.
“I work as a freelance editor,” Leander replied. “It’s not as interesting as it sounds, I’m afraid. I’m not editing the next great American novel or anything. I do a fair amount of non-fiction, mostly online copy. It’s not as easy to break into the fiction side, which I’d really rather be doing, but it pays the bills.”
“Would you consider yourself a language person then?”
“I’m not sure exactly what you mean,” he said, head tilted in thought. “But I’ve always been a reader, and majored in English in college, in spite of it being insanely impractical.”
“No wonder you and Bruce get along,” Bree said, smiling. “Poor English majors, struggling to make a living as language people. That’s basically what I meant, I guess. Some people are more language people, others are more math and sciences people.”
“And what are you?” Leander asked. His blue-green eyes were vivid in the light coming in the window, and he regarded her with such focused attention that Bree started to feel self conscious.
“I’ve always been more of a sciences person. You know, geeking out on facts and putting my foot in my mouth more often than not.”
Leander laughed, and Bree couldn't help but notice again how ridiculously attractive he was. She was starting to get that vibe again that he might be interested in her, but she just couldn’t feature it. He was too good looking, and there was always a kind of unconscious calculation that went into dating. Really gorgeous people usually dated other really gorgeous people. Bree knew she was attractive in her own way, but she considered Leander out of her league.
“Well, you haven’t put your foot in your mouth around me yet. Now I can hardly wait,” he replied. He leaned back, took a sip of his coffee, then said, more seriously, “You said something on the phone about needing a distraction. Is it something you want to talk about?”
Bree considered him for a moment, calculating what she should and shouldn’t say. She considered reading him to help her decide, but she wanted to give herself a rest as she knew she was still healing. She decided to opt for a general report and see how he responded.
“I don’t know if you heard about that riot on Alki Beach last night, but I was there. It was pretty scary.”
“Lord, what were you doing there? Just rotten luck?”
She shook her head. “No, I got called in to help.” She glanced toward the two women, and lowered her voice. “I’m an Exorcist, and there was some serious demon possession going on.”
Leander leaned over the table toward her, and lowered his voice as well. “Are you a Keeper then?”
“No, not a Keeper. My husband’s best friend Javier is a Keeper, though, and he had someone call me in.”
Leander blinked in confusion. “So, you’re, ah, married?”
Bree colored in embarrassment. She still didn’t have the hang of talking about Seth in the past tense. “My husband passed away two years ago.”
“Wow, that’s terrible. I’m sorry,” Leander replied softly.
“So anyway,” Bree rushed on, “it was pretty hairy last night. Doing exorcisms on the fly in a crowd of rioting teenagers was not a picnic.”
“Wait, I think I heard about that on the news this morning. I heard two kids
got killed, and quite a few were seriously hurt. And you say there were possessed in the crowd?”
“A lot of possessed,” Bree replied. She felt her Reader sense stirring in response to her uncertainty about discussing this with Leander. It tended to show up unasked when she felt uneasy, but she squashed it back down. She’d just have to make like a normal and trust her judgment. He was looking at her with what seemed like interested concern, lacking in prurience. The look reassured her, and she filled in more details. “Apparently, there have been some outbreaks of these mass possessions, usually of young people. It’s really very worrying.”
Leander lowered his voice further. “Are we talking out of control Demon Master here?”
“That, or maybe some Keltoi agenda,” she answered equally quietly.
“Is there anything I can do? I’m not an Exorcist or any great shakes as a Caster, but I have kept up on some basic defensive spells. And I’m a decent Warder and have a bit of Demonsense.”
Bree was touched, both by his offer and by his humility. It was the first time she’d seen his air of confidence slip. She wondered if she was seeing a glimpse of the real Leander. If she was, she liked what she saw.
“So if you need someone to stand around and say, ‘There’s one,’ while hiding out behind a ward, I’m your man.”
“Are those your main talents then? I thought I heard Bruce mention you were a Bird Master as well.”
Leander gestured out the window, and she saw a group of about twenty pigeons meandering and scratching about on the sidewalk outside the window. Her eyes widened. “So, a strong Bird Master. They follow you around?”
“Unless I make them stop,” he agreed. “It’s a good thing I like the silly little things.”
“Yeah, that is a good thing. I’m a Cat Master, and I don’t like cats much at all.”
