"I know."
"By the way ... my name is Chaz. I'm your handler. I'll pass on this info. Don't be surprised if I call you back."
"I won't. Hey. How will I know this assistance when it gets here? And how will it find me?"
"Oh, he'll find you. He's psychic.” Chaz hung up.
Immortal phone etiquette. Gotta love it. She closed her phone and dodged into the kitchen to see about coffee. It was there and it was hot. She poured herself a cup gratefully. So they're sending in backup. A psychic? Amazing. She wasn't sure how she felt about that. What kind of psychic would he be? A telepath? She shivered. Sometimes she didn't like being in her own head, much less letting perfect strangers walk around in it. The idea just creeped her out.
The sound of a motorcycle cut through her thoughts. She walked to the window and peered out the curtain. Rachel! She threw open the door and dashed onto the porch. “God, it's good to see you!"
Rachel grinned back at her. “Worried?"
"Just a little,” Amanda admitted. “Cory was going nuts."
"Sorry. I would've called but my cell broke up in the river."
"In the river?"
"Yeah. After I was shot."
"Shot?"
"By my partner."
"Your partner?"
"Stop that."
Amanda's grin twisted. “What'd he do, graze you?"
"Caught me center chest,” Rachel told her. “That fuckhead picked me up at the hospital. I'd been hit with a hypo, contracted a nasty disease, almost died—from what I heard—and then Binks picks me up, takes me out into the wilderness, puts a bullet in me, then throws me in the river. Asshole.
"Here's the clincher. Ran into Chase down there. Says he thinks I was hit with something called a para-virus. That's why I survived. Do you know what that is? Or who might've hit me with it?"
Amanda felt her face turn to stone. She knew there was only one way Rachel could've gotten the para-virus like that. If Loki had arranged it himself. What the hell was his interest in all this? He ostensibly supported Athena, but you had to be crazy if you thought Loki didn't have his own reasons for doing what he did. She'd met him once, a tall, gangly red-haired man with a friendly yet vulpine face. She'd liked him.
Didn't mean she could trust him. She shrugged. “Talk about lucky."
"Yeah. Lucky.” Rachel's answer gaze was mildly suspicious. She'd hesitated too long before replying, Amanda realized. She probably thought she'd remembered something. Knew something. She did, but she wasn't sure how much she wanted to reveal quite yet.
Oh, hey. They're sending someone to assist me. A psychic."
"A psychic? Christ—aren't we like a paranormal menagerie these days?"
Amanda snorted. “Getting that way."
"So where's the wolf-boy?"
"Wondering that myself. I woke up this morning and he was gone."
"Huh. Well, should we go looking for him?"
"We could do that ... or...” She went to magesight, scooped two threads from the air, and bent them into a shape even as she bent her will around them. She tossed the spell into the air and whispered to it. It flashed away, shooting up the small hill and hovering in the air just over the summit. Then it whirled around and burst into a brilliant shower of fiery blue light. “He's up the hill,” she said.
Ben trudged into view, looking downright exhausted, wearing clean clothes and with a backpack tossed over his shoulder. He spotted Rachel standing there next to her and broke into a stumbling run. Within half a dozen feet of her he skidded to a halt and advanced more slowly. “Rachel!"
He threw himself into her arms. She stood there, looking a little uncomfortable. Ben pulled back with a heavy sigh. “We were scared they'd got to you."
"I'm still here. Where have you been?"
"Went home. The prunes are still gone. It was easy enough to get cleaned up, grab some stuff, and head back out the door."
"You walked the whole way?"
"Hell, no.” He grinned at them. “I turned into a wolf and ran home. I walked back."
"I would've at least snagged a bicycle,” Amanda said. “It's not like it's stealing when there's no one around to complain."
"I like walking. I hate bikes.” He turned away and went into the house.
"Who hates bikes?” Rachel asked Amanda.
"He does."
"Smartass."
"You're just now figuring that out?"
"Yes. I'm new.” Rachel shook her head in mock disgust and followed Ben into the house.
* * * *
She peeked in on the vampires, suppressed a shudder. It was strange to see her son lying there like that—like a dead thing. It was true enough, though. That's what he was right now. Dead. She shut the door quietly and stared down the darkened hallway.
The world had changed so much. She remembered her parents telling her as a child. The monsters aren't real.
But they were. She was surrounded by them. She skirted the living room and darted into the kitchen, finding Ben hovering over the sink. He shot a guilty look over his shoulder and she crossed the room in three quick strides. He whirled, spraying water from the vessel he had grasped between his hands. A water pipe. “Shit, Ben. Don't you ever stop?"
"Just to recop,” he growled. “Dammit, Rachel, mind your own business, will you?"
"I'm a cop. That is my business."
"Not now it isn't!” he snapped. “Face it. You're not a cop. You're the same as the rest of us. Just another freak fighting to survive. If I want to smoke pot, I'm going to smoke pot. What are you going to do about it? Beat me up? Try it. Arrest me? Don't make me laugh. Gina could probably tell me not to smoke in her house, but, you know, she never has. At least not since she died. Just leave it. Please?"
She took a step back and regarded him seriously. Her eyes flicked to the small bong in his hand and she sighed. “Fine. I guess if a bullet won't kill you, that won't."
"Wouldn't kill me anyway,” he grumbled. “You know that no one has ever died from a cannabis overdose."
"Yeah. I know. Fucks up your head though."
"Still waiting for that to happen, Rachel. Want to know what E=MC means? I can tell you. It'll take a while, but ... you are just a cop."
That earned him a cold look. “Fine, Ben. We have a truce. But don't flaunt it. You light it up in front of me and I'll slap it right out of your mouth. Got me?"
"I got you."
"Good.” She left him standing there, bong in hand.
Sixteen
Mira and Julia awoke a little after one. They'd been up until dawn, so it didn't surprise Amanda that they'd slept so late. Mira took one look at Rachel and burst into tears, throwing herself into her aunt's arms and hanging there with huge, wracking sobs shaking her body.
Rachel wrapped her arms around her and seemed to deflate. “Damn, girl. You'd think you'd missed me or something."
"It's just good to see someone normal.” She wiped her eyes on a sleeve and sniffled a couple of times.
Julia, who'd simply walked out and thrown herself on the couch, eyeing Amanda expectantly, gave her friend a disgusted look. “Don't be such a bitch, Mir."
"Don't call me Mir,” Mira hissed. “You sound like Cory."
"Meow,” Amanda said, folding her arms and shifting her glance between them. “Knock it off. I assume you're ready, Julia?"
"Yeah!"
She pulled the spell down and hurled it at her. It exploded into a fog shot through with flashes of rainbow lightning that roiled around her for all of fifteen seconds before flaring out into a single radiant burst of light. “Mira. Please teach her how magesight works."
* * * *
She left the girls to it and went into the kitchen to scrounge something to eat. Not exactly easy considering the way the werewolf ate.
Rachel followed her in. “What did you just do?” she asked through a puzzled frown.
"Gave the magic to her. Want a taste?"
"Thanks, but let me get used to being superh
uman first, okay?"
Amanda chuckled. “I can understand that.” It was strange, but even after only a few days she felt closer to this woman than she had most of the girls she'd gone to school with. Weird how that happened sometimes.
She'd still not really gotten a chance to know her mom. Of course, her mom had been made a vampire before she'd come back. Gina wasn't even human anymore. It wasn't so much something was missing, but that her mother didn't know herself anymore.
* * * *
The Harley thundered up the driveway a couple hours later. The rider was all in black leather, face obscured by the helmet.
"Know any bikers?” Rachel pulled her head out of the window and drew her Glock as she headed for the door.
Amanda crossed to the window, pistol in one hand, a thread coiling restlessly in her other hand. “We got company!” she yelled.
Julia was Johnny-on-the-spot as Rachel threw open the door and marched out, Glock pulled up into shooting position as she circled right around the edge of the driveway. The rider was in the middle of removing his helmet when she walked up and shoved the gun into his side.
His sharply hewn face was the color of burnt chocolate, as was his shaven skull. Built like a fireplug, she thought approvingly. He set the helmet on the seat and turned a hawkish gaze on both of them before focusing on Amanda. “Agent Keening?” he asked, pointedly ignoring the gun barrel pressing against his ribcage.
Guy's got balls, Rachel thought. His accent was from somewhere down south. Tennessee? or Alabama?
Amanda was nodding. “I'm Amanda Keening."
"Detective Rachel Flynn,” she said, nearly mesmerized.
"Pleased to meet you, ma'am. Gunnery Sergeant Julian Scorpius, United States Marine Corps.” He pulled off his riding glove and offered his hand.
Rachel passed her pistol from her left to her right hand and took his. He gave a firm handshake. His hand felt rough with callous. Weapon callous. Not surprising.
"Nice to meet you.” That always sounded so stupid in her own ears. Nice to meet you. How in the hell do I know that yet? It could be really crappy to meet them. I could end up wishing I'd never met them.
His eyes weren't brown, or black, but an odd deep, deep blue. They caught at her and she felt something like laughter echo in her head. “Too true,” he murmured, lip curling into a shadow of a smile.
Ah, crap. He's a telepath.
::And so much more.:: Amusement.
::Isn't there supposed to be some sort of etiquette for telepaths?::
::You're the one trying to carry on a conversation. You're latently telepathic yourself.::
::Oh.:: She released his hand and stepped back, thrusting her Glock into her pants as Amanda brushed past him.
"I'm Amanda Keening."
He met her eyes with a warm smile and her hand with a firm grasp. If he spoke into her mind she showed no sign of it.
"So. Would you mind terribly if I had a look at those vampires of yours?"
Rachel frowned. “Why?"
"Just wondering about them, ma'am. Never seen a real live dead vampire before."
She smiled slightly at his playful tone. “Sure. Come on inside.” His eyes flicked past her shoulder and she turned to look.
Mira and Julia stood on the porch behind her, Ben in between them. A quick glance with magesight showed both girls with captured strands like radiant snakes wrapped around their hands and arms.
Scorpius regarded them impassively for a moment. “I must assume that you three are Ms. Flynn, Mr. Dalmas, and Ms. Polson. I'm Gunnery Sergeant Julian Scorpius
Ben's gaze was icily appraising. “So what's your story? What kind of freak are you?"
Scorpius made no reply. Rachel watched him from behind, unable to see his face, but trying to read his body language. He leaned back on one foot and folded his arms in front of his chest. He gave a throaty laugh. “I'm what you might call a psychic. The term we're being taught to use is the word Psi—don't ask me why."
"Hey, you're a poet and you don't know it,” Julia burst out.
He gave a low, polite laugh. “If you don't mind?” He motioned toward the door. “It's been a long ride and I'd really love to get out of these leathers."
That's when Rachel noticed the small backpack slung across his shoulder. Very small, apparently crafted out of the same leather as his double-breasted motorcycle jacket, it hung across his back unnoticed until he reached around and pulled it into his arms. “I take it the woman of the house is asleep?"
* * * *
Fifteen minutes later, fresh from the shower, Gunnery Sergeant Scorpius found them all in the kitchen. He wore a pair of black sweats and a faded Ice Cube concert tee stretched tightly across his wide chest, the sleeves expanded so far they looked like they could shred from the pressure at any moment. “Many thanks,” he said, his smile nearly as broad as his face. “Okay, folks. Here's the deal. I've got a fire team coming in at 1600 hours today. They're loaded for bear and things even bigger than bear—we're going to go in and kick your vampire bad guy—"
"—girl,” Ben corrected. “It's a she."
Scorpius ignored him. “—in the pants as soon as our own vampire buddies wake up."
"Fire team? I thought you were working with me on this,” Amanda said, frowning.
"I intend to, ma'am. You're in command of the civilians, I'm in command of my fire team. I call that working together."
"Can't argue with that,” Amanda replied with a sigh. “Rachel? You cool with that?"
"How about we consider you the Officer—the green Lieutenant? I'll be your Big Toe.” Rachel said this last with a sly grin at Scorpius. My God, am I flirting with him?
He caught the reference and laughed out loud. “Bill Murray in ‘Stripes.’ That's why I didn't join the Army."
Everyone but Ben laughed at that one. His dad had been Army. Drove a tank across the desert in Desert Storm. Where did that come from? She hadn't even realized she'd known that.
::It's the ‘Vibe.:: Scorpius's mental voice wasn't as deep as his real voice, but it carried enough resonance that it caught her immediately.
::Quit reading my mind. The ‘Vibe?::
::You have no damn shielding and you're griping at me not to read what you're broadcasting?:: He met her eyes and raised one brow. ::You're like a radio station, woman. Being around another psychic enhances your abilities. You're on the threshold of going Active.::
She gaped at him. He offered a wink and walked to the fridge. “Do you mind?” he asked Amanda—who'd he'd already decided was in charge of the household while her mother and brother were ... ‘indisposed.” Reaching into the fridge, he pulled out a Coke and popped the tab. After a long swallow he set the can on the counter and grinned at them. “Quite a little cadre you have here. A werewolf, a cop, a federal agent witch, and her two apprentices . Not to mention the three sleeping beauties in the bedroom. Throw in a few marines and you could take over a small South American country."
"So that's what we were missing,” Ben snorted. “I told them we couldn't take Paraguay with what we had."
The werewolf had been walking around with his figurative tail sticking straight up in the air since Scorpius showed up. He didn't like this alpha person in his territory. And, with the vampires down for the day, it was his territory. In an alpha male sense, at least.
::Funny, I never saw Ben as the alpha sort. And I'm pretty sure he never did either.::
::He does now.:: Scorpius's mental voice carried no hint of anger. Just more of the gentle amusement that seemed as much a part of him as that broad and muscular chest she had so much trouble keeping her eyes off.
Ben's face twisted into a quick frown, as if he'd just thought of something. “I'll be back,” he said suddenly, then left the room.
Scorpius's eyes followed him as he left, cocking his jaw as if chewing on something. “Excuse me,” he said to the rest of them, and followed him out the door.
Rachel went along, curiosity getting the best of her.
The burly Marine caught Ben getting in his stash under the couch. As the blond kid stood and turned toward the front door, Scorpius caught him by the jacket and spun him toward him, snatching the long-stemmed pipe out of the boy's hand. “I don't give a shit what you do the rest of the time, boy, but if we're going into action tonight—and you're going with us—you ain't smoking that crap and fogging up your brain."
"Fuck you!” With an astounding show of both strength and speed, the werewolf slammed his open hand into the Marine's chest and snatched his pipe back out of his hand. Another thrust of his arm sent Scorpius sliding back into the arm of the couch.
Ben tensed to leap over the coffee table, but Scorpius's hand lashed out and caught Ben's foot. He gave a powerful yank that snatched his feet out from under him. The coffee table cracked under the impact, but didn't break. Ben threw himself into a roll and landed straight on his back on the other side.
He hadn't a chance to squirm away before two booted feet landed next to his head. A .45 caliber hole stared straight between his eyes. “That dog won't hunt, kid. Your fur don't scare me. You even start to look fuzzy, I'm going to find how bad these bullets will hurt.
"I wanted you clean for this battle, but, frankly, your reaction worries the hell out of me. You'd fight a Marine for the right to get stoned?"
Ben's face twisted into a silent snarl. “I'm sick of everyone always being on my case. It's my business!"
"Not going into a firefight it isn't. Otherwise—yeah, you're probably right."
This frank admission seemed to shock Ben, who gaped up at him. “You want to talk about it?"
"That'll work.” Scorpius holstered his weapon and stepped aside. He reached down and helped the blond to his feet. “You're a tough little bastard, I'll give you that."
"Thanks,” Ben muttered, clearly not meaning it. He brushed himself off, and then met the Marine's appraising gaze. “If I'm going into battle, you want me to smoke out before we do our thing. Keeps me ... mellow."
"It's a fight, kid. You're not supposed to be mellow."
Ben laughed at him. “You're not, but it's a damn good idea if I am. Keeps me from eating my opponents."
"Oh, bullshit. Give me that.” He nodded at the device in Ben's hand.
Of Man and Monster Page 19
