by Tanya Huff
“Be my guest.” Roland waved a gracious hand but got to his feet anyway. He wanted to be in a position to see the reaction when Evan opened the door. He’d feel a lot better if he knew that the Light Adept carbonated hormones as a matter of course.
“Becca! Don’t make me call your social wo … Oh.” The large-blonde-lady-from-down-the-hall froze, one dimpled set of knuckles raised. “Oh,” she said again, and the hand came down to stroke her peach muu-muu smooth over her hips.
“Is there a problem?” Evan asked.
“Becca,” she wet her lips and appeared to be struggling for breath, “has a man in her apartment.”
“Yes.” From her new expression, eyes half closed and cheeks bright pink, Roland assumed Evan had smiled. “Is there a problem with that?”
“Oh, no.”
She swayed and Roland hoped she wasn’t going to faint, overcome with desire. He didn’t think the three of them could lift her.
“There’s no problem with …” Her sway moved her line of sight past Evan and onto Roland. “Two men. Two men! Oh. Oh. Oh …” Her mouth worked soundlessly for a moment before she could get the words out. “How dare you take advantage of that poor helpless child.” She tried to push by Evan but he was a rock. “Becca! Becca, you come here.”
“Why?” Rebecca asked calmly.
“They can’t hurt you when I’m here. You come to me and we’ll call the police!”
She glared up at Evan and Roland suddenly realized the emotion behind the new outburst. One man; Rebecca had obviously been misbehaving. Two men; they had to be forcing themselves on a helpless simpleton. After all, how could Rebecca have two men while she had none.
Evan sighed, “We haven’t got time to unravel this.”
Where Evan had stood rose a column of light wrapped about a figure of blinding beauty.
“Go back to your bed,” said the figure.
The large-blonde-lady-from-down-the-hall pressed one hand to her mouth, the other to her chest.
“Things will be better in the morning.” The figure raised a hand in benediction and petulant lines relaxed into an expression of peace.
She nodded, half smiled, and left.
Just for an instant, through eyes squinted almost shut, Roland thought he saw great white wings arching up to brush the ceiling. All his senses gave a sudden jump as he tried to understand; then Evan stepped back and closed the door. He glanced over at Rebecca, but she merely appeared satisfied the disturbance had ended. Great white wings. The heat Evan generated by his looks, by his presence, began to warm him in a different way—for which he gave thanks as desiring an attractive young man made him acutely uncomfortable. Desiring an angel could be considered a mystical experience, he supposed.
An angel … An Adept of the Light … It made a certain amount of sense and he marveled at how calmly he was taking it. His sense of wonder must have shut down for a time, fearing overload.
“There now,” Evan sat back down on the couch and picked up his mug, “where were we?”
“I said I liked the way you looked then you said you liked the way I looked,” Rebecca told him. “Do you want more tea?”
“Yes, please.”
She took the empty mug and padded over to the table where a teapot sat under a hand-crocheted cozy. “Do you want more tea, Roland?”
“Got coffee?”
“No, just tea.”
Roland glanced at the inch of greenish-yellow liquid remaining in his mug. “No thanks.” Carefully avoiding claws and teeth, he slid Tom back toward Evan and sat down. The cat shot him a scathing look, uncurled, and leaped off the couch. “I think the time has come for explanations.”
“Yes,” Evan accepted his tea with a nod of thanks, “you’re right, it has.”
“You can start with what you did to Mrs. Grundy.”
“That’s not her name,” Rebecca pointed out, refilling her own mug and returning to her place on the floor.
“It’s just a nickname,” Roland explained. “It’s what you call a nosy neighbor.” Rebecca repeated the name silently to herself, filing it away for future reference. Roland turned to Evan who gave another of his whole body shrugs.
“I merely let more of the Light show through. Fortunately, she had enough goodness in her to respond.”
“She’ll probably be back in the morning, making trouble. You should’ve made her forget she ever saw us.”
“I couldn’t. Neither the Light nor Dark can do other than work with what is already present.” Evan took a long swallow and continued. “When I told her things would be better in the morning, I gave her a chance to build her own explanations. She’ll probably decide that the entire incident was a dream.”
And she’ll probably spend the rest of the night dreaming about you, Roland added to himself, With the image of great white wings at the front of his mind, he said, “Are we in the middle of a battle between heaven and hell?”
“Heaven, hell; good, evil; Light, Dark. Names mean very little.”
“Is that a yes?”
Evan nodded. “Essentially.”
“Oh, great, oh, that’s just great.” Roland buried his face in his hands, ignoring the little voice in the back of his head that kept crowing, What a song! What a song! Mrs. Ruth had told him pretty much the same thing, but it sounded more definite coming from Evan. This is what comes from being a nice guy. Do a friend a favor and what do you get; front row seats at the Apocalypse. He didn’t hear Rebecca ask him if he was all right. He didn’t hear anything but the roaring in his head as all the strange events of the night caught up with him and hit at once. Fear and confusion, but mostly fear, raced around and around and around, chasing a tail of panic. Under it all, he felt vaguely reassured that he was finally having the kind of reaction this stuff called for.
The soft tick tick of claws on vinyl yanked him out of the maelstrom and he whirled to snarl over the couch back; “Touch that case again, cat, and you’re potholders.”
Tom removed his paws from the guitar case with one last tick and stretched out on the floor looking bored.
“Roland,” Evan’s touch was warm and comforting on his bare arm, “you needn’t be involved any further. I will understand if you choose to walk away.”
And he would understand, Roland knew that, but Rebecca wouldn’t and without him being aware of how it had happened, the girl’s opinion had become important to him. She stared up at him now, sure of his answer. He couldn’t betray her trust. He just couldn’t.
“Hey, it’s my world. I’ll do what I can to protect it.” Acceptance, commitment, and peace. He felt good. Still scared shitless, but good.
“What do we have to do, Evan?” Rebecca stirred her cooling tea with a forefinger, then popped the finger in her mouth.
“You know that an Adept of the Dark walks in your world, more powerful than any who have come through in many centuries but he is only a gatekeeper. On Midsummer Night …”
“Next Friday,” Rebecca added.
Now how does she know that? Roland wondered. I wouldn’t know when Midsummer Night was if it bit me on the ass.
“Next Friday,” Evan agreed, acknowledging Rebecca with a small bow, “the barriers that keep this world from interference thin. The Dark One will open a gate on that night, allowing his kind to enter as they will. He must be stopped.”
“Well, if we’ve got a week …” Roland began.
A raised hand and a jangle of silver cut him off.
“A week is no time to find a mortal man in a city this size, let alone one with the powers of Darkness at his command and already he begins to tip the balance, killing or driving out the Light and the Gray.”
“He killed Alexander!” Rebecca snagged her bag and dumped it on Evan’s lap.
His lip curling in disgust, Evan pulled out the rolled towel and carefully unwrapped the dagger. “Yes.” He hissed the word out between clenched teeth. “He killed your friend, Lady, and others; there are many lives bound up in this evil tool.”
Evan smiled, a strange, fierce expression. “I can’t.” He brought his hand to within an inch of the black metal, but not even Rebecca’s two hands pressing on top of his could cause it to go closer. “Blood and lives guard this obscenity against my kind and it would take blood and lives to lift that guard.” Flipping his hand over, he clasped Rebecca’s for a moment. “Too great a price to gain control of a dagger.”
Rebecca nodded, face serious, as she asked, “What should we do with it?”
“Keep it. Guard it. Do not touch it.”
“I can do that.”
His smile was a caress. “I know.”
The look they exchanged made Roland very uncomfortable—he had no wish to discover why—so he cleared his throat and they both swiveled to face him. “Well, how do we go about finding this guy?”
“I don’t know.” Evan sighed. “I am not even certain where he will attempt to open his gate. If I knew …”
“You could meet him there and send him back where he came from!” Rebecca caroled bouncing a little.
“No, Lady, it will not be that easy. The Dark Adept and I are evenly matched for the balance must be kept.”
“Why don’t you open your own gate?” Roland asked. “Then the Dark and the Light’ll still be evenly matched.”
“And they will fight a terrible war across your world and your world will be laid waste regardless of the winner.” He shook his head, his multishaded hair drifting about his shoulders. “No, our only chance is to find him and stop him ourselves. My only fear is that he will find us first …”
“Rebecca!”
Only Tom managed to regard the door with his usual élan.
Tap. Tap. Tap. “Rebecca, are you okay? Open up!” Tap. Tap. Bang. “I know you’re awake, I heard talking.”
“It’s Daru!” Rebecca scrambled to her feet, and headed for the door.
Roland checked his watch. “It’s four-thirty in the morning,” he muttered.
Rebecca flung open the door and Daru strode into the room, her sari an exotic contrast to her expression; worry and exasperation about equally mixed. Roland felt his jaw drop for what seemed the hundredth time that evening and wondered how a woman could look so concerned and so intimidating at the same time.
“What is going on, Rebecca?” Daru took the younger woman by the shoulders and examined her quickly. “I just got back from a family party and found the damnedest message on my answering machine. Have you killed … Who is he?”
Daru’s expression, Roland realized, was not one of adoring fascination, an expression he’d almost come to believe was Evan’s due. She was curious only, and, he noticed, completely ignoring him.
Evan rose and bowed, a gesture that, considering his appearance, should’ve looked theatrical and false but didn’t.
“I am Evantarin, Adept of the Light.”
Daru inclined her head graciously. “And I am Dam Sastri, Metro Social Services.” Something that was almost recognition surfaced for a moment in her eyes, then it faded; she sighed and turned back to Rebecca. “Rebecca, stop bouncing, close the door, and tell me what’s happening.”
With a visible effort, Rebecca brought her feet back to the ground, pushed the door closed and chained it.
“We’re going to save the world from Darkness,” she declared, beaming.
Daru sighed. “Honey, I’ve had a long day, so why don’t you make me some tea and start at the beginning, okay?”
“Okay. The beginning is when Alexander got stabbed.”
Rebecca headed for the kitchen and Dam glided over to the couch.
Which came first, Roland wondered, the woman or the sari? He’d never seen a sari worn where the woman didn’t move with regal grace.
Evan waved Daru into the seat he’d just vacated and she sank down looking grateful.
“You’re taking this very calmly,” Roland said to her.
An ebony eyebrow rose.
“Oh.” He flushed. “My name’s Roland. Roland Chapman. I’m a friend of Rebecca’s.”
“Well, Roland,” she slid her sandals off and tucked one small foot up underneath her, “I just spent over twenty-four hours with my very extended family. For the moment, I have lost my ability to be surprised by anything.”
“That,” Evan said thoughtfully, settling himself on the floor, “may make explanations easier.”
Chapter Five
In the master bedroom of the Imperial Suite at the King George Hotel, the sleeper stirred. He savored for a moment the feel of the sheets brushing against his skin, the pressure of the mattress firm beneath his shoulder blades, the softness of the pillows, and the texture of the shadows upon his closed eyes. The full lips curved up into a smile of complete contentment and the eyes opened.
As clear and brilliant a blue as a summer’s sky, they focused on the patterned ceiling, followed the pattern’s loops and swirls to a wall, and slid down it. Light, made rosy by the curtains, spilled into the room.
The young man on the bed stretched, bringing to the action the single-minded determination of a particularly self-satisfied cat, then swung bare feet to the plushly carpeted floor and padded naked to the window. Throwing aside the masking fabric, he gazed out at the heart of the city.
“Another beautiful day,” he murmured, brushing thick black hair off his face. “Sunny and hot.” He pronounced the word “hot” almost like a command.
Resting on the skyline of the city, the sun blazed and, although the day had barely begun, the air wavered with heat distortion.
He placed his hand against the glass, long fingers spread, and a wheeling pigeon plummeted down seven stories to the pavement. It narrowly missed an elderly couple out for a stroll, crashing practically at their feet and spraying them both with feathers and blood.
The shrill shriek of the old woman brought back his contented smile.
In the shower, he gloried in the sensation of the water, changing the shower-head from needle to massage and back again. He towel-dried briskly, rubbing the creamy ivory of his skin to a warm pink glow, then stood for a time posing before the full-length mirror, admiring the smooth ripple of muscles. His body, he knew, was a work of art, each piece in perfect proportion to the rest, just as he had designed it.
But such a body needed something to sustain it.
With the receiver tucked beneath his chin, he dressed as he ordered breakfast.
“… and the coffee is not to be made until seconds before the pot leaves the kitchen.” He pulled a light blue Oxford cloth shirt out of the closet and shrugged into it, tucking it down into his jeans and buttoning the fly. “Yes that’s correct, Mr. Aphotic.” Hanging up, he grinned in appreciation of his own cleverness. Aphotic meant dark, and Dark was all the designation he had, for the Darkness kept its bits and pieces too close to allow them the individuality of names. Reaching for a pair of deck shoes, he checked the loafers he’d worn the night before.
The blood had not, as it turned out, stained the leather. A bit of a surprise really, as there’d been rather a lot of it. In a city of this size it hadn’t taken him long to find a young woman who would allow him to “cut” her for a ridiculous sum and once her permission had been given and the money had changed hands not all the screamed, moaned, or whispered “no’s” could invalidate the contract. And as he’d worked with her agreement, the balance of Light and Dark had not been unduly disturbed. And as the balance had not been disturbed, he had attracted no attention that might make his purpose here more difficult to carry out. Freed from the constraints of ritual, for last night had been solely for his own enjoyment, he’d allowed his imagination full reign and had taken his time.
Breakfast, when it arrived a few moments later, was superb. He rolled the flavors of eggs, and sausages, and mushrooms fried with garlic and ginger around on his tongue and washed them down with juice so fresh it had still been in the orange when it left the kitchen.
“Master!”
A shadow, six inches high and occasionally humanoid, swarmed up the walnut legs of the table and paused by the coffeepot.
“Master! An Adept of the Light has passed the barriers!
“Yes, I know.” He sucked at his fingertips, getting the last of the butter and croissant crumbs. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice such a shift in the balance?”
“No, Master, but …” It rose up and created arms in order to wave them about.
“But?” His tone made the word a threat.
“But I function to give you information, Master. I am your eyes and ears.”
“Then see, hear, do something useful, and find out how this Adept came through.” He poured himself coffee, added liberal helpings of cream and sugar, and drank half of it before he spoke again. The shadow wavered and fidgeted. He put down his cup with a satisfied sigh, then his expression hardened. “Tonight, find out who provided passage for this Adept, how much they know, and whether they can be used in the ritual.”
“Yes, Master, but …”
“Again but?”
The shadow writhed and keened, a high-pitched, drawn out sound like nails on a blackboard. “No, Master. No but.”
He sighed and stretched as it fled. These smaller pieces of Darkness were almost useless and he wondered if breaking it off had been worth it. His glance fell on the morning paper and the headline caught his eye. Jays and Tigers Neck and Neck as All-Star Break Approaches.
“A ballgame,” he mused, scanning the article. “Just what I need, a sunny Sunday afternoon at the ballpark. Crowds of people, the competitive spirit …” Just for a moment, he wished he could postpone the opening of the gate for a few days; next weekend the Yankees would be in town. “Ah, well,” he tossed the paper onto the floor, “you can’t have everything.”
He shoved his room key into the pocket that held his wallet and headed for the door. Throwing it open, he almost collided with a chambermaid carrying a load of towels.
“Houseke …” She lowered the hand raised to knock and stared at him, her eyes wide with need. She was very young and very pretty and he’d taken her brutally the first two mornings he’d stayed in the suite, twisting her responses until pain and pleasure became indistinguishable.
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