Promise: Caulborn #2 (18 page)

The Loremaster’s grin widened. “One must be refreshed to tell a tale properly,” he said. “That water comes from a rejuvenating spring in the Antipodes. It’ll make sure your mouth doesn’t run dry while you’re telling me your tale.”

I smiled back and downed the rest of the water. It was so cold that I nearly got a brain-freeze. After a moment, it passed, and the Loremaster gestured to a pair of high-back leather chairs. “Be comfortable, my divine friend,” he said as we sat down. “Now then, what tale do you bring to me?”

I’d been thinking about this on the trip over. “A story of me and the Urisk,” I said. “And how working together we were able to defeat a warlord named Treggen.”

The Loremaster leaned back in his chair as he chewed on this. Finally he shook his head. “No. I grow weary of tales of war.” For a fraction of a second, his face looked ancient. It was gone so quickly that I might have imagined it. “Those tales are all the same. Good either defeats evil or not. The characters change but the story does not. I wish for something different.”

I rubbed my chin. “What’d you have in mind?”

The Loremaster looked at the ceiling for a moment. “Tell me of the moment you fell in love with Petra.”

I blinked. “You know how we met.”

The Loremaster shook his head. “How you met and how you fell in love are two very different moments, Vincent. Meeting is simple, you are in a bar, you are in a classroom, you are in line at the grocery store.” He held up a hand. “But, the moment you fall in love with a person is different. Love at first sight is rare. But there are moments in time where love first blossoms. It may be the way your partner looks at you over the top of a book, the quirk of their lips after telling a joke, or a million other subtle things. That is what I wish to know of you, Vincent Corinthos. What about Petra made you fall in love with her?”

“She’s a geek girl and a supermodel,” I said. “I’d think it was pretty self-explanatory.”

The Loremaster frowned at me. “I might accept that if I thought you were a superficial bastard, Vincent Corinthos. I know you better. If the price is too steep, then it was a pleasure speaking with you, and I look forward to another visit sometime in the future.”

He started to rise, but I held up a hand to stop him. “All right, all right.” I rubbed my face. “Give me a second. I need to think about this.” I’d never tried to go back and actively locate the precise second when I’d fallen for Petra, but I knew what the Loremaster was after. “You want to do your mind linking trick? It’ll be easier to show you than to try and tell it.”

The Loremaster’s grin returned. “That Glimpse is one remarkable talent. I thank you for the offer and graciously accept.” He scooted his chair forward, easily moving the heavy piece of furniture without any apparent effort. Then he reached over and placed his palm against the side of my face. I resisted the urge to begin muttering, “Our minds are merging,” as I didn’t think that he’d appreciate a Star Trek reference just then.

“I think I know where it is, but I’m going to have to go back a bit just to be sure,” I said. The Loremaster nodded at me. I closed my eyes and focused my Glimpse.

In the Glimpse, it was about eight years ago. The Urisk didn’t worship me yet. I had no psychic talents, no powers other than Opening or Glimpsing. I’d recently been assigned to Boston’s Caulborn, and they were trying to figure out what to do with me. There were concerns about how well I’d do as a field agent because of my absolutely pathetic marksmanship scores. To my dismay, it looked like I’d only ever be a paper pusher with the Caulborn, and I was seriously considering quitting and going into business for myself as a supernatural locksmith. I had a good ear for language though, and lately the Caulborn had me working with the Dover Demon of all creatures, trying to teach it to read and speak English.

I’d been able to learn that the “demon” was actually a kind of fae called an Urisk. His name was Lotholio, and he was from a realm called the Bright Side. He had been in this dimension since the ’70s and desperately wanted to go home, but the Caulborn agents hadn’t been able to find a way to get him there. I spent most of my days with him, struggling to help him communicate. At night, I’d go to Gearstripper’s workshop and watch
Star Trek: The Next Generation
reruns.

One night, as Captain Picard was violently denying that he was seeking Jamaharon, a female voice I’d never heard before called into the shop. “Gearstripper? Are you in here?”

Gears scrambled to his feet so fast that he knocked over the bowl of Cheetos we’d been sharing. “Petra!” Gears cried. Orange cheese puffs sprayed everywhere as the little gremlin sprang from table to table, bounding into this woman’s arms like a puppy. His tiny arms wrapped around her neck and he cuddled into her. She laughed, a melodic sound that made me smile, too. I got to my feet, wiped orange powder from my hands onto my pants, and walked over to her.

“Oh, Petra, this is Vinnie,” Gears said as he untangled himself from her. “He’s a new agent here. He likes
Firefly
, too, and
Star Trek
, and he can quote every line from
Ghostbusters
.”

I held out my hand. “Nice to meet you, Petra.”

She took it. Her skin was smoother and softer than any other skin I’d felt in my life. Her smile made her dark eyes sparkle. “Likewise, Vinnie.”

She was absolutely gorgeous. Even dressed in a plain white T-shirt and black jeans, which were obviously chosen for comfort rather than style, she looked stunning. A brown leather bag was slung over one shoulder, and her long brown hair was done in an elaborate braid. She looked familiar, but I couldn’t place her. And I couldn’t ask her if I knew her because my tongue decided this was a great time to tie itself in a knot, and the only word my brain could form was “wow.”

Gears saved me from embarrassing myself by launching into one of his rapid-fire Q&A sessions. “So how’s the job? You were in Hawaii, right? Did you see volcanoes? Did you hula dance? Oh, and did you bring back any macadamia nuts?” His voice took on a pleading tone. “Please say you brought back macadamia nuts.”

Petra laughed again and pulled a jar of nuts from her bag. Gears clapped his tiny hands in delight and tore into them. As he stuffed his face, Petra ticked answers to his questions off on her fingers. “The job is going well. Yes, I was in Hawaii. I got to go on a helicopter ride into a volcano, which was very exciting. Unfortunately, I didn’t have the free time for any dancing.”

“Were you on a mission?” I asked.

Petra looked at me quizzically, then smiled in understanding. “I’m not Caulborn,” she said. “I’m a fashion model.”

“You know that catalogue you like to look at sometimes, Vinnie?” Gears said around a mouthful of nuts. “Victoria’s Secret? Petra works for them.”

I blushed so hard that my face burned. That’s where I’d seen her before. In my defense, she did look different with her clothes on and without angel wings. My face burned hotter when I realized just how lame of a defense that was. I did my best to keep my eyes on her face and not think about her in her underwear. Petra giggled. Her lips were so perfect. I took in her high cheekbones and flawless pale skin and thought she looked like something Michelangelo might have sculpted.

“Have a seat, Petra,” Gears said, indicating the area we’d cleared. “TNG’s just about over, but TOS is on right after that. I think it’s the one where Kirk and Spock are gangsters.”

“A Piece of the Action,” Petra and I said in unison.

That night the three of us hung out until just after one in the morning. It went like that for a few months whenever Petra was home from a shoot: late night geek fests and junk food. I brought in my old Sega Saturn to the office, and we played Clockwork Knight. She even knew comic books, and we debated Frank Miller’s storytelling style for an entire night.

“So when are you going to ask Petra out?” Gears asked me one afternoon over lunch. Lotholio and I were taking a break from our latest English lesson, and the Urisk was resting in his chambers.

I just about snarfed my Pepsi. “Ask her out?”

“Um, yeah.” Gears said, taking a bottle of Karo syrup from his
Doctor Who
lunchbox. “You know, like a date? Don’t you humans still do that?”

I swallowed and rubbed my mouth with a paper napkin. “Gears, she’s a supermodel. She’s got movie stars and rock musicians and who knows what else lining up to date her.” I looked at him as he unscrewed the cap of the corn syrup. “Are you seriously going to drink that straight?” In response, Gears held the bottle in both hands and drained a third of it in just a couple of seconds. He wiped the back of his mouth with a sigh of satisfaction.

“That’s disturbing,” I said.

“Don’t change the subject,” Gears said as he pulled out a peanut butter and Nutella sandwich. “We’re talking about Petra. You’ll notice she spends all her free time in my workshop. Watching sci-fi shows. With you. Geez, Vinnie, do you need a slide rule to figure this out? She
likes
you.” My expression must’ve been completely dumbfounded, because Gears just sighed. “Vinnie, she does. Trust me. She’s due back tomorrow night, talk to her then.”

I’d actually been counting down the days until her arrival and knew exactly when she’d be home. Gears probably knew that, he knew me well enough. I agonized for the rest of that day about what I’d say to her. I tried to think about how James T. Kirk would approach this situation. I imagined a mini William Shatner sitting on my shoulder, giving me advice.

“You have to make her feel… like she’s the most special woman in the world, let her… know just how much spending time with her is worth to you. And then… pick her up and carry her off into the stars.”

Without my intending it, a mini Patrick Stewart popped up on my other shoulder. “You must not put on illusions. Be your true self, for only that self can truly impress someone of her splendor.”

I dismissed the tiny captains from my shoulders. Too many hours of Trek was playing with my brain. The first thing I needed was to find something for us to do. I went downstairs, grabbed Doc Ryan’s copy of the Boston Globe and started searching.

The next night, Petra arrived in Gearstripper’s workshop just before seven. “Hey there,” she said with a grin.

“Hey, yourself,” I said back, returning the smile. I gestured into the shop. “Unfortunately, Gears has some top-secret project that he’s working on right now and can’t be disturbed. So I was wondering if you’d like to go catch a showing of
Return of the Jedi
? There’s a place downtown that shows the original theatrical presentation every couple of months.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Petra said. And just like that we were walking out of the workshop. Gears’s head poked around a crate, and he gave me a thumbs up. He’d come up with the top-secret project idea when I’d told him about the movie.

All right, Corinthos, step one, complete. Don’t screw it up now.

We had good seats at the movie, and to my delight, Petra started whispering dialog to me. I replied with the appropriate lines, and we were grinning like kids the whole time. When the lights came up, she smiled at me so brightly that my brain imploded. This was the greatest night of my life. It was perfect.

And then we ran into trouble.

It happened as we were coming out of the theater. “Hey there, pretty lady,” came a voice from the shadows. “How ’bout you ditch the little boy there and come be with a real man?”

There were three silhouettes approaching us. We were standing directly under a street lamp, and I couldn’t get a good look at them. I checked and felt the reassuring weight of my switchblade tucked neatly up my sleeve.

“From what I can see,” Petra replied, “he’s the only real man around here. Get lost.”

“Hey, I know you,” the voice came back as the silhouettes got closer. “You’re one of those hottie lingerie models. What color underwear you have on right now, baby? Oh, this is gonna be fuuun…” He and his pals came into the light. I was reaching for my switchblade when Petra shot forward faster than I could follow, grabbed the speaker by the shirt, hoisted him up with one hand, and threw him thirty feet across the street. He screamed as he bounced off a brick wall and crashed into a group of garbage cans. His friends froze on the edge of the light.

“Uh, we don’t want no trouble,” one of them said.

“Then get lost before I toss you, too,” Petra replied as she cracked her knuckles. Her voice hadn’t changed; it was still cool, melodic. But there was an undertone there that was a little scary. The men ran to their friend as Petra grabbed me by the arm. “That was stupid,” she said to herself. “Stupid.” To me, she said. “Come on, let’s get out of here before anyone asks questions.”

We hustled down the street. My mind hadn’t quite managed to process what I’d just seen. “How did you do that?” I finally asked. Petra’s brown eyes were frantic, and she stammered for a second. She took a deep breath.

“I’ll tell you. But not here. Those snacks that you and Gearstripper always have, do you have those at your place?”

I nodded, and the next thing I knew, we were on the T back to my apartment. Petra held my hand the entire way, and the closer we got to my stop, the tighter she squeezed. At one point, I must’ve whimpered under her grip because she blushed and her grip went slack, but she didn’t let go.

Back in my apartment, she told me everything as we tore through a bag of Cheetos. How she’d been crafted by Pygmalion; how, as a living statue, she was super-strong, fast, never aged, and could never physically change: no haircuts, no tans, no weight gain. That last part explained how she’d been able to tear through bag after bag of junk food; I’d been worried at first that she might have an eating disorder.

When she finished, her dark eyes searched mine. “That’s my story,” she said. “That’s who and what I am.”

I wanted to say something witty, like one of the leads in those movies that can make women laugh. Or maybe say something really romantic, the kind of thing that would make the writers at Hallmark jealous that they hadn’t come up with it first. But nothing witty or romantic would come into my mind. So I settled on the truth.