The Council of Shadows (31 page)

“Friends? Well, one of 'em was a real gorilla, and I didn't like him at all,” Harvey said, and smiled at the other man's uneasy laugh. “And the other was a real cool cat. Just so we understand each other.”

Harvey nodded, smiled again—there was no point in pushing the man when he'd gotten what he wanted. Frightening people had its uses, but it was all too easy to make them terrified, and terror was the original two-edged knife. Desperate human beings switched off their minds and got really unpredictable. Besides that, there was no point in taking out his frustrations on bystanders.

He walked back into the bright sunlight, and onto the scuffed cracked asphalt and concrete and bare dirt of the motel's courtyard. Despite the stiffness and the bruises, and the general message his body was sending him about slowing down in his early sixties, he grinned. There was even a
tumbleweed
, and a couple of skittering lizards.

He'd been born in the Hill Country, not far southeast of Austin, which was pretty enough in a spare, rocky way; there were even olive groves and vineyards there these days. And would-be
Tuscanista
rural gentrifiers making organic goat cheese, most of which, in his opinion, was about as much fun to eat as the other caprine by-products.

But there was a certain ugly charm to desolation like this, a sort that could appeal to any country-bred Texan. A Larry McMurtry
fitness
, as if Captain McCrae were about to ride in with a scruffy patrol of Rangers, a Winchester in a scabbard at his knee.

A little unconscious nostalgia there too,
he thought.
Back then, all humans had to worry about was other humans, like the Comanche or Mexican bandits. The Order of the Black Dawn was just getting started.

As he came out Farmer was helping Guha into the van. It was a big, nondescript vehicle, with oversize tires and certain facilities that didn't show; the back could be rigged for casualties, for instance. She'd be some time healing, but it was a big improvement over dying after a subjective month or so of agony and fear. Farmer was moving carefully too, and he was thirty years younger than Harvey; that gave the older man a good deal of satisfaction.

Peter Boase was being cautious, but holding up remarkably well for a civilian who'd just gone through a withdrawal process that made kicking heroin loose nothing by comparison.

And there were Adrian and Ellen, both looking . . .
ridden hard and put away wet,
he thought ironically.
Pale and interesting.
The girl . . . woman . . . moved stiffly and looked washed out, but she and Adrian were still exchanging smiles and glances and touches, almost unconsciously.

Well, that's the real thing,
he thought.
And Adrian's actually found a girlie who
doesn't
mind being on the receiving end of a Homo sapiens nocturnus feeding frenzy. Good for him, since he can apparently control even that. And I can't even find a woman who'll put up with all-too-human me.

There was a hint of irony in his smile. Harvey Ledbetter considered himself an excellent judge of character, including the female variety. As long as he wasn't personally interested in the woman in question. When he was . . .

Three marriages, three divorces,
he thought.
Fuckin' perfect record. Of course, not being able to tell the truth about what you do really doesn't help.

He could talk to Brotherhood women, of course. Weird term, when you thought about it; they'd never gotten around to modernizing the name for these gender-inclusive times. They were another story.

The problem with that was that nearly everyone in the Brotherhood was insane in one way or another.

“He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster. And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.” Note that the feller who said that ended up wearing a straitjacket and baying out the window of the asylum at the Bavarian Alps. Now,
I'm
completely sane, I surely am. I'm planning on blowing up a city with a nuclear weapon for
perfectly rational
and highly moral reasons.

He laughed as he walked over to the vehicles, and Adrian smiled at him. It had always been a charming expression, and it looked better now with some years on him and a bit less of that androgynous beauty Shadowspawn teenagers tended to show. Adrian
looked
like he was in his late twenties—maybe a bit older this morning, after a hard night—but his body language was somehow a little different.

“What's the joke, Harvey?”

“I was just thinking that things were going too smoothly,” he said. “And then I backed off a bit and looked at that statement, plus the way we all give a pretty good impression of having been through the cat once, and it struck me as funny.”

Adrian laughed himself. Peter Boase started to sputter, then looked around at all of them and chuckled a little himself, wincing when it made a scab on his lip crack. Harvey found himself thinking better of the man for it.

“All right, Dr. Boase,” he said. “You're going to Sweden for your new job. Consider yourself a lucky man.”

The blond physicist did think about it for a moment. Then he joined in, for the same reason, and they all chuckled; even Guha smiled weakly.

“I am,” Boase said. “It's . . . I hate to say it, but from what little I remember it was even worse at Rancho Sangre after Adrienne died.. . .”

“After I killed her,” Ellen said with satisfaction.

Quite a girl
, Harvey thought admiringly.

Then she went on: “Farmer here will take you to the next stage, Peter.”

They hugged, and Ellen kissed him gently on the brow. “You get to work, you hear me?”

“I will. Professor Duquesne is a first-class mind. Though I'll need some test subjects . . . and there will be a
lot
of equipment.. . .”

“We will see that you have all you need,” Adrian said. “And you have plenty of motivation, no?”

“
Fuck
, yes,” Boase said, his face grim for a moment. Then, a little shyly, he extended a hand. “And thank you too.”

“You are welcome, for what it's worth.”

“But shouldn't Duquesne have a spunky young daughter, o squarejawed scientist?” Ellen teased. “A redheaded tomboy who can hand you a soldering iron while you cook up the world saver in the hidden underground lab?”

Everyone laughed, except Farmer, who jerked his head brusquely at the vehicle. When the van pulled away, Harvey looked inquiringly at the pair.

“So, you needed to talk to me?”

Adrian nodded. “It was Ellen's idea.”

And for a masochist bottom, she surely does rule that boy with a rod of iron,
Harvey thought.

“You noticed how disorganized that attack was?” Adrian said.

Harvey nodded. “Shadowspawn usually are. They don't
need
to be better. Probably just came here on
impulse
.”

“Or they could have detected Peter's e-mail. He was using one of the pseudonyms he operated under while he was at Rancho Sangre and doing work for Adrienne.”

Harvey snorted. “You see either of those two as hackers? Exceptin' in the literal sense of the word.”

Adrian shrugged. “Not directly, no. . .”

Ellen cut in: “Theresa, Adrienne's household manager, was
very
good with systems. She could be working for Adrienne's parents now? She was born a renfield there before Jules was, ah . . . killed. Before his body was killed, that is.”

“That is possible,” Adrian said. “They would be unlikely to kill her, then. She might have given them a heads-up. They
would
have been better organized, if my sister were still running that little faction of theirs. Dmitri and Dale Shadowsblade were both here. I bested Dmitri in the contest of Power, but if they had attacked together. . .”

“We'd be toast,” Harvey acknowledged. “Without you, we'd have been toast anyway—or gorilla fodder.”

“So Rancho Sangre must be disorganized too,” Ellen said firmly. She crossed her arms, took a deep breath, and went on: “And Adrian's children are there.”

Harvey grunted and leaned back against the Humvee. “So, you know?”

She shot a glance at Adrian. “He—”

“My darling, I wasn't
sure
. I was Adrienne's . . . captive for a while in Calcutta. Seven years ago. My mind was not my own for much of that time. And—” He sighed. “I feared you were right. Perhaps I did not inquire more because I did not want to know.”

“They're not in any danger,” Harvey pointed out, feeling a trickle of alarm. “Adrian's parents will take care of them.”

“Adrian's parents will turn them into
killers
,” Ellen said.

“Well, Adrian. . .”

“. . . was rescued, Mr. Ledbetter. By force. Usually I'm not one for removing children by force, but in this case . . . their mother is dead, Adrian
is
their father, and leaving them there is the equivalent of having them raised by Nazis. Not just the risk to them, but the people they'll hurt.”

“And so will Leon and Leila be rescued. Think of what an asset they could be to our side, too.”

Ellen's face was beautiful, but right now you could see the bone structure under it, and that was beyond all prettiness. Her blue eyes glinted.

“Look—” he began.

Behind her, Adrian smiled. It was almost a smirk, and he mouthed silently:
Good luck.

“O
l' buddy, this is crazy.”

Ellen crossed her arms and glared at Harvey. “No, it isn't,” she snapped.

“Harvey—” Adrian began.

All three of them fell silent as the waitress brought their food. Harvey beamed at her.

“Now
that's
a taco,” he said, taking a happy bite. “My compliments to the chef, darlin'.”

Unexpectedly, the heavyset woman smiled at him as she plopped down a basket of sopapillas and covered it with a cloth to keep them warm.

“We don't have no chef,” she said. “All we got here at Teresa's is a cook.”

Ellen's nose twitched, and saliva spurted into her mouth; her stomach twisted with a need so intense it was almost nausea. She'd been too keyed up to realize just
how
hungry she was. Still was, despite the energy drinks and nut bars she'd devoured as they drove into town.

What with waiting to be attacked by monsters, shooting monsters. . . well, shooting
at
monsters . . . donating blood and coupling like mad stoats,
she thought.
God, what a movie this would make! Rated R, of course.

With an effort, she restrained herself from gobbling, the spiced
barbacoa
beef and onions tingling on her tongue. The puffed bread with honey tasted even better.

“Mighty strange how sometimes the best tacos are in these little places you'd swear probably cooked up roof rabbit. I recall this time near Abilene—” Harvey began reminiscently.

“Shut up with the funny, rustic good-ol'-boy thing, Harvey,” she said. “I'm a small-town girl myself and it doesn't fool me. And I'm not going to forget those kids because I'm stuffing my face.”

She took a bite of her taco and glared. Harvey shrugged; he was about the most imperturbable man she'd ever met. At least he couldn't sense her emotions anymore, not with his limited talent and the protections Adrian had installed.

At last she pushed the plate away and drank the last of her Diet Coke. Adrian looked at it and raised a brow, chuckling.

“What?”

“It just seems a little. . .”

He indicated the plates, now mostly clear of their tacos, burritos, refried beans and much else.

“I just prefer the taste of aspartame. And
you're
not going to distract me either, Adrian. Tell me honestly—will there ever be a better time?”

He sighed and rested his face in his hands for a moment, elbows on the table.

“I am so tired,” he said softly. “No. There will not. But answer me honestly,
chérie
. Why do you care? Why are you ready to take risks for children who are not yours? Did you fall in love with them on brief acquaintance?”

“No. I only saw them a couple of times, and . . .” She hesitated. “Frankly, I thought they were. . .”

“Creepy, you said. Then why?”

“Because they're yours, and I love
you
. Tell me you haven't been thinking about this since I first told you about them. You froze then and it's been eating at you ever since. So I think this is something you need to do.”

“Yes, I have been thinking about them.” Adrian sighed. “It . . . has been obsessing me. I thought I hid it better.”

“Honey, we're sorta linked. It isn't all one-way, you know.”

Softly he went on: “I try to suppress it because it isn't really concern for
them
in any immediate sense. I think of them, but what the, the eye of my mind sees is myself, as a little boy. Myself and Adrienne, when we were like kittens playing together in the sun. Before we ate of the tree of knowledge and had to choose between good and evil.”

Harvey touched Adrian on the shoulder. Ellen fought down a slight pang; they'd been together for a
long
time before she met Adrian at all. It was illogical, but. . .

“Son, you should let that go,” Harvey said, his voice quiet but compelling. “You can't help those two kids you remember, even if one of them was you. They're both dead. They became you, you and your sister. You both made your choices.”