Gathering Storm (21 page)

So he let her stay and she opened a crack in
the wall around his heart.

When he said, “I guess
that’s it,” she looked up at him with big searching
eyes.

“My daddy is a vampire hunter,” she
said.

“I know,” he replied almost in a
whisper.

“You could be like Daddy.”
She looked so sincere, so intelligent, and so intense for a little
girl.

“I don’t know about that, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart? Where did that come from?

After Rosie went to bed,
Angel sat at the kitchen table with Litha. Every night she covered
the table with photos and gave him various facts about Storm’s
relationship with different people he might encounter. Litha didn’t
remember the exact day or time of the shift, but at some point,
Angel had stopped sighing, rolling his eyes, studying his
fingernails, and acting like a kid who’d been sent to detention. He
had begun to show an interest, had applied himself, studied the
details, asked questions and no longer acted resentful when she
corrected him about a mannerism or posture or the way he phrased
something.

“That’s enough for tonight. I think you’re
at the point where we can turn Ram loose on you?”

“Oh boy.”

In spite of herself, Litha
chuckled at that. “Sir Hawking was a little intimidating during
your last exchange with him, but believe me, he has another
side.”

She rose from the table to
finish cleaning up from dinner. Angel sat and watched her. There
must have been some women like her in his life at some point. From
what he remembered of his mother, she was warm and loving, but
there hadn’t been anyone like that since he’d left home. For the
first time he asked himself why he hadn’t stayed in contact with
her. For the first time he wondered if his disappearance had caused
her worry.
Gods of glory. Am I an
asshole?

Litha was sexy, but not
because she wore provocative clothes and not because she tried to
strike poses or be coquettish. She was sexy because, when she spoke
she sounded genuine and sincere. Her mannerisms were not calculated
in terms of provocation, but flowed effortlessly as an extension of
her personality. When she loved, she was unconsciously and
unpretentiously graceful and feminine. In other words, she was
grounded in authenticity. A real woman. The best kind. And Angel
found her more fascinating every day.

She was beautiful, but not
because she wore a lot of makeup. She was beautiful because her
eyes were so deep a green they were exotic, other worldly really.
Her hair was wild and seemed to suit her perfectly. It was
outrageously curly, but not frizzy.

He knew she hated him
because of the sex, but she’d made an effort to be patient with him
about learning all the details of someone else’s life: the names,
who they were to Storm, how he
really
felt about them, and so on.
She’d been polite and courteous enough that sometimes he could fool
himself into thinking he was a real house guest.

He liked having dinner
with Litha and Rosie at the end of the day. For one thing, it was
kind of cool to see the kid grow into somebody else every single
day. Rosie talked about her adventures and Litha asked questions.
When her mother was searching for Storm, which was most of the
time, Rosie’s grandmother came to the villa and stayed with her, or
she went to the monastery and spent time with the monks, or she
went to Jefferson Unit and was passed around between Elora, Ram,
and Glen – depending on who was available.

Litha hated missing out on spending time
with her, but Rosie was clearly enjoying the arrangement. There was
no missing the fact that her favorite subject was Glen.

Sometimes they asked Angel
about his day. And that was…nice. He knew he was starting to like
it too much and he knew that everything about that was fucked up.
Even he couldn’t be stupid enough and masochistic enough to get too
comfortable or fall in love with a life that didn’t belong to
him.

It wasn’t just Litha and
Rosie. His body was starting to feel like it belonged to somebody
else. He was getting strong. And cleaned out. It was amazing what a
few vegetables and a lack of alcohol could do. Between the toxins
flushing away and Kay’s bouts of brutality that he passed off as
“workouts”, Angel’s gut had turned rock hard and defined itself
into distinct hills and valleys.

Kay had stopped treating
him like something that Roto Rooter pulled out of the drain. Even
though he still loved to say things like, “
My
partner would not quit at that
many pullups if he was magically transformed into an
eighty-year-old woman who had never worked out a day in her
life.”

Then there was Elora. He
had to admit that, on the rare occasion he managed to do something
right and get a smile out of her, it was oddly gratifying. She
didn’t coddle him, or even cheerlead, but she never failed to
acknowledge any small accomplishment and, in his eyes, that meant
she was fair.

If he landed a punch or a
kick, she’d laugh and say, “So you got something going on in there
after all, huh? Let’s see if you can do that again.” Every positive
citation was a victory.

He knew he was in big
trouble when he started to like getting up in the morning because,
any minute now, the real Storm might show up. Then he’d be back in
a dirty life in a dirty alley about to get sliced up by a monster
and the worst part of that was that he deserved it.

The Black Swan people?
They’d be so glad to see that guy, they probably wouldn’t even say
goodbye. He’d be nothing more than old news and he’d end up where
old news goes to biodegrade without them ever giving him another
thought.

From Litha’s point of
view, there was no upside to living with Angel. It would have been
bad enough having a stranger in the house changing the energy and
the dynamics, privy to every detail of their lives. But this
stranger, who looked just like Storm made her heart hurt even more.
It was taking its toll in the way she felt tired all the time. It
was taking its toll in the dark circles she saw under her eyes in
the mirror. And the guilt about neglecting Rosie topped off the
grief so that she was always on the edge of crumpling.

She missed him in a way
that was a physical ache and worried all the time about how he
fared. The worry was justified. She’d traveled the passes enough to
know that not every dimension would be welcoming to a stray
human/part demon. A voice brought her out of her
thoughts.

“I know you’re sad all the time.”

She stopped what she was
doing and turned to look at Angel. “Yes,” was all she
said.

“What was it like
when…?”

“What was it like before he was gone?”

Litha walked over and sat
down at the table.

“You know Storm was
recruited when he was fourteen.” Angel nodded. “So he finished
growing up in a culture that was all male and very military. That’s
just one of the reasons why it melts my heart that he’s so good
with our little girl.” She smiled. “He does dishes without
complaining.

“We both wanted this
place.” She looked around. “I mean
this
exact place. We both grew up
around here and both set our dreams on owning this vineyard one
day. We found that out about each other when we were working for
The Order in Edinburgh. It was enough to make you believe in
kismet.

“I guess I’m rambling.

“So, your question was,
what’s it like being married to Storm? It’s the very best kind of
easy. I think that’s how you know you’re with the right person, at
the right time, in the right place. At least that’s what ‘right’
means to me. Love shouldn’t be hard. Or maybe I’ve just been
lucky.

“I fell in love with him the first time I
saw him.”

“Did he feel the same?”

“No.” She shook her head,
looked at her hands in her lap, and laughed softly. “The first time
he saw me, he looked right over me like I wasn’t even there. I’d
been struck by lightning, as sure as if he was a god, but I was
just an invisible mortal.

“It wasn’t all that easy
to get a chance with him. He’d been hurt, recently, and he was like
a grouchy old bear who just wanted to be left alone to nurse his
wounds. If you looked at him wrong, he’d growl and strike out.” She
looked away and her expression was wistful. “But he came
around.

“Shocked me and a whole
bunch of other people. We were at Kay’s wedding. He was best man.”
She looked at Angel. “They’re partners, you know. I was Katrina’s
maid of honor because she was so grateful to me for taking her
place as hostage to a demon. It turned out not to be sacrificial or
altruistic because the demon was my dad.” She rolled her eyes as if
to say, “You’ve met him and you know how he is.”

“After the ceremony was
over, Storm and I were supposed to follow the bride and groom down
the aisle. We’d rehearsed it the night before. I moved to take his
arm, but he stayed right where he was and, more or less, demanded
that I marry him on the spot.

”He’s the most splendid
man ever conceived. All I could do was stand there and think how
lucky I was.” A tear spilled out of her eye and she flicked it
away. “I couldn’t even make my voice work to say yes even though
that’s what I was screaming on the inside. My mouth was moving, but
I couldn’t get any sound to come out.”

Before he could slap it
down and sit on it, Angel had wished he was that guy. He knew
nothing could be more stupid or self-destructive than falling in
love with the wife of the guy he was impersonating.
Christ.

“What about you?”

“What?”

“Who’s missing you? Wife, girlfriend,
mom?”

“Nobody.”

“Nobody?”

The surprise on her face was replaced with
pity and just as quickly that was replaced with a silent
question.

“I want it that way.” He shrugged it off and
made his features perfectly passive.

Litha’s eyes searched his face like she was
really seeing him for the first time.

So that he could be
absolutely certain of his privacy, Glen sent Barrock on an errand
and closed the door to Sol’s study before he placed the call to
Simon. As he listened to the ring, he double checked his watch. It
was before noon at Jefferson Unit, well inside the work day at
Edinburgh.

“Director Tvelgar’s
office.”

“Margaret. This is Glen. How are you?”

“Very well, Glendennon. How about your young
self?”

Glen smiled that Margaret, who was well into
her eighties, managed to slip a bit of age bias into her greeting.
Very slick.

“Passable. I’d like to speak with the man if
I can slip past the dragon at the gate.”

“Ach! Fresh as ever, Mr.
Catch. And what shall the
dragon
be tellin’ the Director about your business with
himself?”

Glen chuckled. “I’m sure
you’d like to know, Margaret, but this is Sovereign to Sovereign
business.”

“Careful of the altitude. It can be chilly
at such lofty climes.”

“Believe me, Margaret, I’m
freezing my tail off, but until the rightful Sovereign returns to
the throne, all I can do is hang on and try to emulate the man who
belongs in this chair.”

It was Margaret’s turn to
chuckle. “’Tis downright frightenin’ how quick you are, Mr. Catch.
Hold on.”

After a few seconds, Simon picked up.

“Glen. How goes it in the
Colonies?”

“I don’t know, sir. I’m calling from the
United States of America.”

“Ha! If you’re joking, it
can’t be all bad.”

“I suppose it isn’t
all
bad, but it’s bad
enough.”

“Oh.”

With as much brevity as
possible while still giving the Director the respect he deserved,
Glen offered a briefing and status report. When he paused for a
reaction, there was silence.

“Sir?”

“So, let me be certain I
understand correctly, Catch. Nemamiah went on vacation with his
girlfriend leaving you in charge with Storm overseeing. Then Storm
was lost in a rift between dimensions and is gods know where.
Meanwhile, the idiot demon was told to fetch and came back with an
alternate version of Sir Storm, whom you and his inner circle have
been attempting to pass off as our Storm. All that means that
you’ve been running Jefferson Unit alone while, at the same time,
running interference to keep anyone from discovering that Sir Storm
is not himself. Literally.”

“The only exception I
would make to that summary is that there’s just something very
wrong about referring to Farnsworth as someone’s
girlfriend.”

“Hmmm. Well, Catch, I
always knew you had potential, but I must admit you amaze me.
You’ve not just handled this admirably. You’ve done as well as any
seasoned administrator might have given these circumstances.
Probably better than most. Just one question.”

“Yes, sir?”

“Why the devil didn’t you call Nemamiah and
tell him?”

“Because, sir, it was my understanding that
this is the first vacation the Sovereign has taken. Ever. And
piecing together bits of what Sir Storm has said, I believe he
deserves a vacation.”

“I see. You’re one of a kind, Catch. No
doubt about it. So you’ve called for help?”

“In a way. I’m calling for
a favor. I’d like to borrow someone from Headquarters. I’ve been
thinking, when I was in Edinburgh – because I was privy to the
agendas of most of the various departments – I was able to surmise
the overall goals and interests of The Order. If you don’t mind me
saying so.”