Gathering Storm (3 page)

"I concur," added Storm.

"You can
concur
until the cows
come home,
Sir
Storm, but you are still NOT playing in the Jefferson Unit
Annual Rugby Match." Litha's voice was loud enough to make the
babies get quiet and listen.

"Yeah. What she said." Elora couldn't really
see what more could be added.

"We're playin'."

"We are," Storm
confirmed.

"You. Are. Retired!" Elora countered.

"Retired is no' dead."

"
And,”
said Storm, “I'd like to add
that we retired
early
. Lots of active duty hunters are older than we are and
they'll be playing. There's
never
been a match that didn't have B Team represented
and there's not going to be one this year either."

Elora huffed. "Since they
retired B Team as an honor to you..."

"
And
you," Storm added.

"Thank you for the
thought, but not really. And I don't think any of you would enjoy
having me play. Stop trying to distract me. I'm in the middle of
asking if you plan to still be repping for B Team when you're
ninety."

The husbands looked at
each other. They both sat on the sofa in Ram's and Elora's
Jefferson Unit apartment with their arms crossed, looking like they
had dug in to be stubborn.

"She might have a point," Storm said to
Ram.

"We're no' givin' any
points nor any ground. With them 'tis always a slippery slope
slidin' toward capitulation."

Storm looked at Elora.
"We're not ninety
now
. We'll torch that bridge when we come to it. We're not even
nearing thirty. And we're playing."

"Aye. We are."

Ram and Storm uncrossed their arms long
enough to give each other a fist bump.

"Look," Elora began, "you're both young,
strong, still in your prime and tough as they come."

"We'll no' be fallin' for
the flattery approach."

"I'm just saying that
you're all that, but you’re also husbands and fathers with bones
that can be broken and organs that can be ruptured." Elora
deliberately omitted the part about how she hated overhearing
female spectators objectifying her husband. She already knew that
he was the stuff of nocturnal fantasy and didn't need to have that
driven home by listening to women talk about imagining him when
they were with somebody else. Ugh!

The men were silent and
resolute. Resolutely silent.

When it was clear they
were not being moved from their position, at all, Litha whispered
something in Elora's ear and they withdrew to the bedroom, closing
the door behind them.

"What do you think they're doin' in
there?"

"I think they are saying that they will have
better luck with a divide-and-conquer strategy."

"Aye. 'Tis my thought as well."

"Pact?"

"My man."

"Lust to dust."

"Sperm to worm."

"Womb to tomb."

Elora whispered to Litha. "Quiet. Ram's ears
are amazing."

"Then let's duck out for a coffee. Or
cocoa," she corrected.

When Elora nodded, Litha closed her fingers
around her fellow conspirator's wrist and they popped into the
lounge downstairs. The trip wasn't far enough to disturb
equilibrium. It was no worse than a fast elevator drop.

"It won't hurt them to watch the babies for
a little while."

Elora chuckled. "Neat trick."

They picked out two of the
comfiest chairs, the ones that made sitting feel like getting a
hug, and sat down facing each other.

"Hmmm. Well, I'm thinking that we're not
going to get anywhere as long as they're together. They're feeding
off of each other and ratcheting up the resolve. We need to
interrupt that feed."

"Brilliant. Let us have yummy drinks and
then go to our separate bedrooms to see if we can't get their arms
uncrossed."

Litha smiled knowingly and
initiated a soft five.

"Is it occurrin’ to you
that they're bein'
too
quiet?"

"It's your bedroom. You go check."

Ram opened the door and said. "Great Paddy
loves a fuck. They're gone."

"What?" Storm got up.

"Gone. G.O.N.E. As in your
wife always brin's an unknown factor to the mix. Great Paddy, I'm
glad we were never assigned to hunt somethin’ like her." Ram ran a
hand through his hair and looked at Storm. "So. Guess who's
babysittin'?"

Since moving back to
Jefferson Unit, Elora had settled into a comfortable routine that
included the luxury of a balanced life - equal parts family, social
and work. In her case, work meant passing on the rigors of her
clan's semi-secret martial arts, acquired from her training as one
of the king's potential bodyguards when she was growing up in
Stagsnare dimension. She had always found it gratifying to work
with the active duty knights, knowing that some little change in
posture or delivery might save a life.

In fact, teaching had
originally been her suggestion. But since returning to Jefferson
Unit, she found that she liked working with the trainees even
more.

When she looked at those
kids, she couldn't help thinking about the fact that each of them
was some woman's baby. Understanding what that meant ratcheted her
desire to teach them everything she could to keep them safe. She
came to think of it as a sacred duty. And every day she was glad
that Helm was a first born and not a second son. Of course she knew
that exceptions had been made to that rule, but they were
relatively rare. Her son would not be one of those
exceptions.

She worked the boys hard
in hand-to-hand and also taught an elective on weaponry, modern and
ancient, for those who were interested. Some of them used it as an
excuse to spend more time in the company of the famous knight who
was centerfold gorgeous. And fun. But regardless of motivation, the
result was a better trained class of future knights.

Elora made no secret of
the fact that she thought "her" boys were going to be so much
better than the active duty knights because she had gotten them
young. When Storm was available, she used her influence to persuade
him to stop by her extra-curriculum class and give firearms
instruction.

The Lady Laiken made
people feel golden in a way that was natural to her personality.
She bragged to Storm about what fine hunters the kids were going to
be and boasted to the trainees that nobody anywhere was better with
firearms than Sir Storm.

At the end of class one
cold winter day, the boys followed Sir Storm and Lady Laiken to the
Hub level. Storm was in the middle of saying goodbye by postulating
his thoughts on the importance of discipline when the normally
noisy Hub suddenly became all but silent. Storm, Elora, and their
students looked up to see Glen coming toward them, trailed by four
ruffians who could not possibly pass for Black Swan
knights.

Without taking his eyes away from Z Team,
Storm finished his thought. "If you don't believe what I'm saying
about self-discipline, just take a look at the alternative."

Elora's eyes roamed over Z
Team and they responded with conspicuous ogling. Glen headed
straight to Storm with a big grin on his face.

"Signed, sealed, and
delivered, sir."

Glen glanced behind him
like he was making sure his charges were still following. Storm
greeted his protégé with a warm smile and a handshake just before
turning an icy stare on the misfits. "I thought I'd take them
straight to the Sovereign and report."

Storm nodded. "That would
be standard procedure. By all means, proceed." He hit the down
button to call an elevator car and stepped out of the way. Noticing
that the boys were still standing in the same place practically
gaping at Zed Company, Storm turned to Elora. "Class is dismissed,
isn't it?"

Pulling her attention away
from the human spectacle Glen had dragged in, she addressed the
little cluster of boys. “The big guy's right. See you next time. If
you put in extra practice, don’t forget to log it. I want to
know."

The kids started away
slowly, making it pretty clear that the arrival of the exiled
knights was definitely more interesting than anything else they
might have planned for free time.

Storm leaned into Elora so
that only she could hear and said quietly, "Think I'm going to
accompany the circus to Sol's office and make sure he gives my boy
the props he has coming." When he drew back, Elora nodded and
Storm’s face broke into a boyish smile that was definitely
mischievous. "Plus, I need to pick up the proceeds from a little
wager."

Glen left Z Team waiting
in the hallway outside Sol's office with their duffels. Storm
glared at them on his way past. Glyphs shot a what-the-fuck look at
Torn who just shrugged and shook his head with a minimum of
movement.

Storm knocked once on the
closed door and entered without waiting for an invitation, a move
that would have earned him a severed head when he’d been active
duty under Sol. He shut the door behind him with a quiet snick as
Sol looked up and waved him in.

"Just telling Catch here that he performed
adequately and can take the rest of the day off."

"Adequately?" Storm turned
to Glen. "I think that's the Sovereign's way of saying that there
aren't half a dozen men in the world who could have gotten those
losers here on time and without incident. You should get a
medal."

Sol gave Storm a dirty look. "Just because
you're no longer on my payroll doesn't mean you can speak for me. I
said what I had to say."

"Okay." Storm raised his brows in
judgment.

"Catch. You're dismissed."

"Yes sir. What should I tell the, uh, Z Team
waiting in the hallway, sir?"

Sol picked up his phone and pushed a button.
"Farnsworth! Send me runners to escort the new arrivals to their
quarters." He slammed the phone into its cradle.

Storm whistled softly.
"The woman you're engaged to lets you talk to her like that?" As he
watched the blood drain from Sol's face on realizing what he'd
done, Storm almost laughed out loud. Yeah. The man was in for it
alright.

Sol recovered his grumpy
pants quick enough and stepped out into the hallway. His greeting
was brusque and efficient. If you took away the scowl, it could
have been delivered by a robot.

"Welcome to Jefferson Unit. People are on
the way to show you to your digs. Get settled in. Briefing tomorrow
afternoon." He started back into his office then turned back. "And
stay out of trouble till then." He slammed the door.

Glen smiled at the Zs and
hunched his shoulders in apology for Sol. "Like he said, welcome to
Jefferson Unit. See you around?"

Torn stuck out his hand. "Sure, kid. We'll
be seein' you 'round."

The next couple of days
were relatively quiet except for a catfight between two nurses of
all things. Rumor was that it had something to do with Torn
Finngarick, but he wasn't overly talkative on the subject and
neither were the two women with nail scratches on their faces that
were so deep they were practically gouges.

CHAPTER 2

Halcyon Dimension, Fifteen
years earlier.

Angel Wolfram Storm seemed
to have been born knowing things, like math for instance. His mind
would grab on to a concept on first presentation and then, while
his classmates struggled, he would look around for something to
occupy his busy mind. That
something
usually ended up being
disruption.

His parents loved him, but
the school faculty misunderstood his gift for disruption. He was
smart, bored, and went about doing whatever he pleased while
ignoring objections to the contrary. In short, no one in his life
up to that point had given him an adequate reason to think that
anarchy was not the best policy.

The majority of his time in school was
either spent in the hallway outside class or in the waiting room
outside the vice principal’s office. His parents agonized over what
to do, but never found the answer.

One day he was sent to the
V.P.’s office under protest claiming that, for once, he hadn't done
anything wrong. Maybe he didn't have a right to feel self-righteous
about being wrongly accused, but if they'd been paying attention,
they would have realized that he'd never shrunk from taking
responsibility for his antics. Yeah. He got in trouble a lot, but
he hadn't tried to weasel out and claim innocence.

He sat down in his usual
chair to wait for the usual carpet ride thinking about the obvious
chasm that exists between stoically silent and, "I didn't do it."
When his dad showed up looking even more grim than usual, he knew
it was that final hammer. He wasn’t being suspended. He was being
expelled.

The V.P. opened his door
and leaned out. "Storm. Your father is here to take you home. Clean
out your locker. Don't dawdle. Don't talk to the other children.
And, do a thorough job because you won't be coming
back."

Angel didn’t miss the fact that Mr. Rodgers
sounded happy. Well, the feeling was mutual.