My Familiar Stranger (14 page)

Storm said he was expected to spend the afternoon in a meeting, but that he would like to see her that night. She seemed a little fidgety, embarrassed almost.

Finally, she said, “I wonder if I could ask you about something of a delicate subject matter.”

Storm ducked his head a little to catch and hold her gaze. “There is nothing you can’t tell me or ask me. And whatever it is will remain between us. I’m good at keeping things to myself.”

“Well, do you know if anyone has given thought as to how I may earn money?”

He frowned. “I don’t think that’s been addressed, but the credit card I gave you will buy a lot of stuff. And you’re welcome to use it. No strings attached.”

“Thank you. That is most generous and I’m very grateful. The thing is that it is one thing to accept such a gift when helpless, but to continue would be – I think the term is – freeloading.”

His features smoothed out and he nodded slightly. “I get it. How about this? We’ll make it a loan. I’ll keep a record like a running tab. When you start making your own money, you can pay it back.”

Her relief was evident. “That would be wonderful. So long as I don’t get too far in debt before that happens.”

“So what is it you need?”

“Well, for one thing, in my world I played a musical instrument a lot like your guitar. And I miss it.”

He stood there wondering how much more there was to know. He’d probably just scratched the surface.

“Please, Elora. Get what you need. Criminently! Forget need. Get what you want. I think I could make a case that it should go on The Order’s bill. They owe you big. How much is it worth to find out that some of the creatures we chase may be slipping dimensions? We’d never know that was a viable possibility if it weren’t for you. You may be the key to a thousand unsolved files gone cold. If you want a Rolls Royce to use as a living room sofa, you should have it. You’re important to this organization.” He started to turn and then came back, again ducking his head in that charming way of his that brought them eye to eye. “And to me, too,” he smiled.

“I don’t want a whatever-that-Rolls-thing-is, but I would like a few more clothes, a guitar, and a good amp.”

Storm’s chin pulled back as he raised an eyebrow. “Electric?”

“Yes. What did you think?”

He laughed shaking his head. “I don’t know. Delicate princess. Old fashioned lyre.”

“Delicate?”

He looked her up and down unapologetically. “Well, feminine anyway.” He opened the door and then stuck his head back in. “No weapons.”

“No promises.” Assuming she was joking he chuckled, closed the door, and strode away.

***

BLACK SWAN FIELD TRAINING MANUAL Section 1: Chapter 1,#2

Soon after infection, the vampire virus begins to inhibit normal function of certain parts of brain. Cognitive reasoning is impaired and conscience is suppressed in vampire for long periods, sometimes centuries.

Elora thought a hot chocolate would make a perfect pairing with internet shopping. Feeling confident about navigating her way to the coffee bar and back, she decided to venture downstairs for a to-go cup.

As she stepped into the hall, she found Ram coming out of the apartment next door. He seemed surprised, but pleased.

“Good day,” he offered with a radiant smile. He was wearing faded, button down jeans again with a grayish blue, Metallica tee shirt that made his blue eyes pop and sparkle. “Ms. Laiken.”

She returned his smile while her entire essence quivered with a silent exclamation.
There’s an elf living next door!

“Call me Elora.” As she pulled the door closed she remembered this had been his partner’s apartment. Suddenly she felt awkward about the chance meeting and her expression changed to embarrassment. “I know this was your, uh, friend’s quarters. I hope you don’t mind. It’s just temporary.”

Ram had walked the few steps down the hall so that he stood next to her in front of the door. “Tis fine, Elora,” he said her name like he was tasting ambrosia on his tongue for the first time. He glanced at the faded rectangle where Lan’s name plate had been. “Tis no’ like he’s usin’ it.”

She seemed surprised. Realizing how callous that must have sounded, he hurried to say, “Lan was no’ the sort who would want a memorial made of his quarters. He loved women and would relish knowin’ you’re the one who is sleepin’ in his bed. Temporary or not.”

Elora cocked her head at him and narrowed her eyes. “So. You’re a silver tongued elf.”

He shook his head slightly and lowered his sparkling eyes to fix on her mouth. “No. My tongue is sweet. Regular and pink. Will you come have a taste then and see if I’m true?” As he leaned in like he would kiss her she took a step back looking at him like he was daft. Noting that her expression and body language signaled wariness rather than playfulness, he laughed softly and straightened changing tactic and topic.

“
So, where are you off to?”

They started ambling toward the elevator. “The hub. Coffee bar. Only I’m not getting coffee.”

“Let me guess.”

She gestured as if to say, “Be my guest.”

“Judgin’ by the way you devoured Black Forest cake last night which, by the way, was quite somethin’ to see and hear, I’m thinkin’ you’ll be after more chocolate.”

She grinned, delighted despite herself. He was a clever elf. She added that to a growing list of attributes that included smooth talking, possibly fun to be with, and, of course, gorgeous in an ultimate sex fantasy sort of way. His manner seemed boyish at times, but there was no mistaking the fact that he was a fully grown man in every respect that counts.

“Hot chocolate. It comes in liquid form. I discovered it at breakfast this morning and am thinking about forming a Cult of Chocolate.”

“It also comes in cold liquid form as chocolate milk. Humans are addicted before they have teeth.”

As they reached the elevator he pushed the down button and was suddenly serious as he was thinking she had probably had breakfast with Storm and discovered hot chocolate without him. He wanted to be the one to see her learn everything new about his world.

Bringing him back to the moment she turned toward him and asked, “Where are you, um, headed?”

“Somethin’ no’ nearly so fun as chocolate.” The elevator doors opened and they entered. His expression turned sober and he sighed. “A discussion about replacin’ Lan with a new fourth team member.”

“Oh. Storm said something about a meeting this afternoon. Sounds dreadful. For all of you.”

“That about sums it up.” The elevator doors opened into the busy hub. Casually leaning his body into a brace against the opening to make sure the door held, he nailed her with that devastating smile and said, “Life goes on, right?”

She nodded, psychically agreeing to keep it light, and stepped out into the busy junction.

“I’m goin’ down another floor. You know your way? How to get there and back?”

“Oh yes, I’ve known how to get to the hub ever since the day of my hearing.” She gave him a little, chest-high wave with her right hand as she started off in the direction of the coffee bar. He paused for a couple of seconds to enjoy the saunter of her retreat, the confident stride, the flare of her hips, the sway of her body. He smiled to himself thinking he would never get tired of watching her go and never get tired of seeing her come.

Then it registered that she had said ‘my hearing’. He didn’t know she had been through a hearing, but made a mental note to get a copy. The Order is meticulous about video records.

On the way to the coffee bar she spotted a courtpark entrance and decided hot chocolate could wait a little longer. For three months she’d pined for the feel of unconditioned air on her skin, no ceiling, just sky above. When she opened the door and stepped onto the paved apron, a feeling of freedom and exhilaration swept through her that could only be understood by those who have experienced a lengthy convalescence or penal confinement. The tree leaves rustled and preened in the breeze with the brilliant colors that follow a cold winter and dry summer. Some had begun to fall. She spent an hour walking on leaves that made a pleasant crunching sound beneath her feet. She explored some of the garden walks and the open space of the track and rugby field. By the time she turned to go inside she was spiritually renewed and committed to making a go of a new life.

The table in Elora’s temporary dining area did an adequate job of subbing for a desk. Enough light. Enough room. In fact, she thought this might be her favorite place she had ever lived. Of course that was a very short list, the first residence had been a palace in another dimension, the second was a twelve by fourteen infirmary room.

There were Ethernet outlets throughout the apartment. She plugged in the laptop, got a lightning fast connection, and settled down to the consuming task of online shopping. She ordered a few items of clothing to fill in some gaps, then spent a couple of hours choosing a guitar. She was careful about return policies since she knew it might take a few tries to get the perfect fit, feel, and sound. It was lovely to learn that Marshall amps existed in this world. She knew a half stack was an extravagance and that she would blast the floor away if she ever turned it up, but Storm said to get what she wanted. So she did.

Last she ordered an extra large face collar, a six foot, braided leather leash, and a tranq pistol with preloaded darts to be shipped separately and specified overnight shipping for everything.

B Team had assembled in Sovereign Sol Nemamiah’s office for the purpose of discussing their reentry into regular duty rotation. All three had dreaded the meeting. No one wanted to replace Lan. Just talking about it felt like a betrayal of friendship, camaraderie, and shared history. But a patrol team is four members, not three.

Breaking in a new team member is a lot like marriage. There are personality quirks that have to be negotiated to everybody’s satisfaction. Which takes time. And then there’s the trust issue. It’s one thing to talk about having somebody’s back, but security in that belief has to be earned. Which takes time and experience. Confirmation of honor and courage is a field experiment with a lifetime price tag. Literally. There’s just no way around the added stress the entire team suffers from the uncertainty of not knowing for sure how the new member will perform in a moment of truth.

Ram slouched on one end of a leather couch twirling a paperclip he’d lifted from Sol’s desk, looking surly and rebellious. Kay sat at the other end with an ankle crossed over his knee. Storm was feeling too restless to sit in either of the two remaining chairs so he leaned his back against the wall facing Sol’s desk.

“You know I don’t like this either,” Sol began, “but it’s on the top of the has-to-be-done file.” Who could argue with that? Storm and Kay studied the high grade, commercial carpet. Ram turned his head to look out the window. “I’ve got a short list, but of course the three of you have final say about your fourth.”

After a few beats Storm crossed his arms and jerked his chin toward the paper sitting on Sol’s desk. “Who are you thinking?”

“First is Ghost, naturally.” Ram huffed and rolled his eyes. Sol pinned him with a look and continued. “Finnemore. Sanction. Blytheson.”

The only sound in the room was a big sigh from Kay. Storm continued to study the carpet. Ram looked at Sol like he wanted to kill him. Like Lan’s death was Sol’s fault. He knew it was immature, but, once Lan was replaced, he would really have to face the truth that Lan was gone and not coming back.

Finally Storm looked up. “Let us have a day to mull it over. Sleep on it maybe.”

“Sure,” Sol said, maybe even more relieved than the rest of them to end the meeting. “Same time tomorrow.”

The rejuvenating effects of three months off duty had been swept away in a fifteen minute meeting and the loss had slammed home again in full force. The remnants of B Team emerged from the Sovereign’s office looking despondent and battle weary.

Ram started toward the elevator. Storm said, “Where you going Ram? We’ve got to talk about this.”

Ram pushed the button for up and turned back. “I’m thinkin’ we can talk just as easily with two tablespoonfuls of fine Irish Whiskey poured over ice.”

They made their way to the lounge in silence. It was early in the day to be drinking, but it was a drinking sort of occasion. They had no trouble finding empty chairs in a corner where they could talk without being overheard. It was cool enough for the gas fire to be lit. They commandeered big, plump chairs then, one by one, looked out at the gloomy day thinking, perhaps subconsciously, that overcast was the correct backlighting for the mood.

After several minutes Storm said, “Okay. Let’s come up with ground rules. I say that, if all three of us say no to somebody on the list, we draw a line through his name.” Kay and Ram both nodded and murmured sounds of agreement. “Finnemore. Yes or no.”

“Finnemore is a wanker.” Ram is nothing if not colorful and succinct. If asked, he would affirm it’s a gift.

Storm leveled a warning look at Ram and said evenly, like he was marshalling patience with an adolescent. “Yes or no.”