Solomon's Sieve (26 page)

“Well, yeah, I was going to say that. Normal fourteen-year-olds get grounded or have privileges taken away. Their families try to provide a safe place for them to finish percolating – maturity wise – so that, when they go out in the world they can handle themselves. At least that’s how it’s supposed to work. I think. No personal experience with any of that so I can’t be sure.

“But Rosie isn’t just physically deceiving. She’s powerful and tricky and, you know as well as I do, she can’t be controlled.”

Storm reached over and took Litha’s hand in his. They were silent for a while, considering all that had been said. Finally Storm said, “Litha. Do you know where she is?”

Litha shook her head. “I don’t know where she is, but I trust Kellareal to make sure she’s safe. He promised her that he wouldn’t reveal her location, but she was at least mature enough to ask to be notified if there was an emergency. And it’s not true that she can’t be controlled. It’s just true that
we
can’t do it. Kellareal can manage her though.”

When Glen looked across the table at Storm, he could swear that Storm looked years older than he had before cheesecake.

“Well,” Glen said. “If you do hear from her, will you tell her that I’ve been trying to reach her and that I’m sorry things were left that way? I think she already knows the rest.”

“Of course, Glen,” Litha said. “I guess you need to get back. Get ready for your trip?”

“Thanks for being honest with us, Glen. I was really in the dark about what was going on. I’m not pleased, but knowing is better than not knowing.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Knights don’t call each other sir, Catch.”

“You’re not just a knight to me, sir. You’re Rosie’s dad.”

Storm beamed at Glen.

Litha stood and walked to the bar to grab the handcuffs. “By the time you get back from your assignment, I guess we’ll be moved into Jefferson Unit.”

Storm’s mouth dropped open. “You’re moving to J.U. with me?”

With a look of warning, she said, “
Temporarily
.”

When Litha returned to the kitchen where she shared a life with her husband, she found him sitting at the table, looking morose.

“What’s wrong?”

He lifted eyes that were unmistakably sad. “I miss her. I was just getting to know her and then she was gone. She didn’t even say goodbye. Or tell us how long she’d be gone. Or where she is. Or what she’s doing.”

Litha sighed as she sat down. “Her body and her intellect grew so fast, but she didn’t have the chance to learn the little things that the rest of us take for granted, like how to handle disappointment. Or how to compromise.”

“Don’t you want to check on her? Just to make sure she’s okay?”

“I do. Of course I do. And I will if it’s something you have to have. But I’d rather give her this. She’s asked us to let her have some time alone. Maybe on some level she recognizes that she’s missing some key components to being really grown up.”

“How long are you willing to give it?”

“I don’t have a deadline in mind. Do you?” Storm pursed his lips and looked thoughtful. “Three months? If we haven’t gotten a visit or a message or anything by then?”

“Sure. That’s fair.” She smiled. “What can I do to take your mind off of it?”

CHAPTER 14

1500 Black Swan Hangar, Jefferson Unit, Fort Dixon, New Jersey

Z Team was already boarded and waiting for their walking assignment to arrive. They heard voices coming up the steps. Monq and a woman.

Monq’s face appeared first when he entered the cabin. He gave perfunctory nods to Z Team, but bestowed a genuine smile for Glen, who grinned and waved back like a little kid on a field trip. Seeing that exchange, Raif shook his head at the newbie’s eagerness and looked out the window with all the bored callousness that comes with eight years of active hunter duty spent in every one of the world’s biggest shit holes.

Listening with one ear, it sounded like Monq was apparently introducing the squint to her protectors. Or was it escorts? Sighing, he decided he should probably turn his head and try to look mildly interested. That was the last thought that fired his synapses before he felt his heart slam into his rib cage.
Her.

“Gods on fire.”

Raif said it quietly, but not so quiet that his partner, who was sitting in the chair next to him, didn’t hear. That reaction definitely got Torn’s curiosity going. “You know her?”

Raif’s nostrils flared in reflex to seeing her again. “Yeah. Passing acquaintances. Unfortunately.” Raif felt his organs squirm around when he said the word ‘unfortunately’. His body had always had adverse responses to lying. It was like his insides protested the fact that his feelings didn’t match the words coming out of his mouth. Gods teeth, he didn’t need his own intestines calling him on his fabrications. “And you’re responsible.”

Torn looked at him with incredulity all over his face. “Me? Now why would you be thinkin’ I’m responsible for you knowin’ the lass?”

Raif sneered at him with a disdain so potent and palpable a lesser man would have recoiled. “Remember speed dating?”

Torn looked from the scowl on Raif’s face to Dr. Renaux. When she spotted Raif, her eyes sparked with recognition. She looked away quickly as the reddest full blooming blush he’d ever seen formed on her face and neck.

He barked a laugh in Raif’s direction. “Fucked that one up royally, did ye?” He leaned toward Raif and muttered, “All the better for me. I’m startin’ to see this assignment could have an upside,” he leaned in close enough so that only Raif could hear him whisper, “with rust-colored hair. Skin pigmented like an Impressionist paintin’ and dyin’ for a master’s touch.”

Looking irritated, Raif got up and moved across to the other side of the plane where he slammed himself into a recliner, leaned it back, faced toward the window, and closed his eyes.

Torn had been team mates with Raif a long, long time. Long enough to see when every muscle was tense, eyes closed or not. He laughed again with all the impish glee that Irish elves were known for, enjoying the situation. This trip was shaping up to be potentially fun on so many levels.

The plane hadn’t been in the air for ten minutes before Torn had moved to sit beside Mercy on one of the long, plush sofas. She looked up from what she was reading when she realized that someone was making himself at home. In close proximity.

“Torn Finngarick.” He extended his right hand and gave her the full treatment charming smile.

For just a second Dr. Renaux forgot that she was a grown woman, a professional who was well-respected in her field. She forgot that because, at that limited distance, the elf was so captivating all she could do was stare. She’d heard about the sexual magnetism of Irish elves, but hadn’t ever experienced it up close and personal. That combined with the creature’s beauty was a powerful and, no doubt, potent package.

She was trying to remember if she’d ever seen a person who appeared to have skin so perfect that it was without pores. That was her wayward wondering when he brought her back to the moment by clearing his throat.

“And you would be Dr. Renaux?” he prompted with patience and a twinkle in his sky-blue eyes.

Apparently the redheaded heartthrob was accustomed to having women go frozen fan girl. Crap. She was so flummoxed he’d had to remind her of her own name. Being struck speechless like an illiterate shepherdess coming face to face with a god was a brand new experience for Mercy. A cautionary tale of male beauty from the ancient myths.

Confronting how preposterous it was for her to be struck dumb by a gorgeous guy dripping sex, she laughed out loud. “Great guess. Yes. Dr. Renaux. Call me Mercy.”

He grabbed his chest right over his heart and declared, “Mercy.”

Well, beauty wasn’t everything. Like she’d never heard that one before.

On hearing the sound of her laughter, Raif opened one eye a slit. Just as he’d expected, it had only taken Torn fifteen minutes to get acquainted and extract playfulness from her. He’d known it was inevitable, but that was fast even for Torn. The bastard was probably giving her the deluxe treatment because he’d seen Raif’s reaction and thought there might be a sore to rub salt in.

Torn’s reputation with the ladies, especially human women, was notorious, which meant he was admired by men who aspired to a fuck ‘em and chuck ‘em lifestyle and reviled by the women who’d been fucked. And chucked. It was weird the way women flocked to bad boy elves like gluttons for punishment.

If Torn hadn’t been on the plane, Raif would have eventually worked up the courage to approach her and apologize for the way he’d acted the day they’d met. He’d remembered her first name, but not her last. So he couldn’t track her down. During their relatively brief exchange he’d been so busy telling her who she was and what was wrong with her that he hadn’t found out anything about who she was and why he’d had such a strong visceral reaction to her.

Every chance he got he had used his time off to more or less sneak away to the city. He didn’t tell his nosey team mates where he was going or what he was doing. He just let them assume it was something brothel related. Far from it.

Like a sap, he’d walked around the area where the speed date had taken place. He had no logical reason to believe she lived or worked in that area. She could just as easily be an hour away. Probably was. He knew the chances of running into her were a pair of slim and none and accepted that it was an idiotic way to spend rec time.

If the rest of Z Team knew how he was spending his time, he would
never
hear the end of it. They’d be following his sorry soul through lifetimes for the pleasure of tormenting and harassing him about it. That’s because they were reprobate bastards. And he had the very fine distinction of fitting right in with them.

He knew it was juvenile to care about being teased over a woman, but he had to live with those shitheads and ridicule gets real old real fast.

Yeah. Every member of Z Team knew that, when it came to the female sex, Torn got first round pick. They knew they might as well sit back and wait for him to make his selection before scoping out who they might want to get to know better.

If Torn had taken a bead on Mercedes Renaux, Raif knew he might as well close his eyes, take a nap, and try to forget that he’d been some perverse combination of asshole and idiot to the only woman of quality he’d talked to in a decade. If you could call that talking. It was more like a verbal assault, which was illegal. She could have actually filed charges.

After the initial shock of realizing they were on the same plane, bound for the same destination, and destined to spend at least a couple of days in the general vicinity of each other, Mercy had
studiously
avoided looking his way.

Which was fine with him.

Really.

“What’s that you’re readin’?” Torn asked Mercy.

She turned the yellow manual over so he could see the cover.

He grinned. “The Manual! I have no’ seen one of those for, well, for a long time. How long have you been workin’ for The Order?”

“New hire.” She held up the book. “Trying to get up to speed. I just learned about the existence of vampire a week ago. I’ve been reviewing the data on the events of the past year, the viral ‘cure’ and all.” She put air quotes around ‘cure’ and smiled. Then she smoothly segued into a different subject like a social pro. “And you’re the grand poobah for this outing?”

He laughed. “Grand to be certain, but knights do no’ poobah. We’re equal in the eyes of The Order.” He looked around the plane at his team mates with pride. When his gaze fell on Glen, he halfheartedly threw a gesture in his direction. “Except for the kid. Equal is a ways down the road for him.”

Reaching over to look at the Field Training Manual cover again, Torn asked, “Are ye findin’ it interestin’ then?”

“Oh sure. If I’d found this on the street a week ago I would have thought it’d been dropped by somebody coming from a comic con.”

“And now?”

“Now I’m working on getting my mind to accept that I’m reading non-fiction.”

“How’s it goin’?”

“It’s a struggle.”

“Hmmm. Maybe I can help you with that.”

Torn stood up and raised his heather gray tee shirt, exposing peaches and cream skin stretched over washboard abs that would have been as flawless as his face except for a white scar that ran crisscross.

Unused to having beautiful elves stand in front of her and expose mouth watering abdomens suddenly and without invitation, she stared up at him with wide eyes and a certainty that she was even further out of her element than a mere education on vampire would suggest.

“See this?” He traced the length of the scar with a fingertip.

She nodded. Oh yes. Indeed she did see that.