Leaning forward, I kissed her slowly and shook my head. “Later. You don’t get to talk to people, let alone friends.” I said, and she smiled with thanks at my willingness to delay gratification. We both understood the consequences of our lust, and the normalcy of our current actions made it worth the wait. I use normal in the most threadbare terms; I don’t know of many men who would consider showering with a succubus on a yacht to be anything within the realm of the commonplace, but the content of our interaction made the term fit.
She leaned her head against my shoulder. “Well then. Yes, I was poor, usually in the aftermath of one of those endless wars. The cycle of bloodshed was always based in two truths: God and gold. And each army was staunchly convinced of their righteousness, no matter what battle they fought, but the people always paid the price. You know this, you are a soldier. The glory is never for those who till the soil; they are tasked with placing their own bodies in the furrows dug by the brave. The brave!” She spat, and then laughed with a short cough of anger.
“As if splitting the heads of babes could be deemed brave. Believe me, Ring, war brings out the very worst in mankind, not the best. The rapes, the plunder—do you know, it always ends in fire? Why is that so? I would see two armies posturing, one repulsive little king telling another that all the lands were his, and then they would hurl their drunken warriors against each other, full of praise and strong drink, and then would come the crows. But not”—she sipped her wine angrily—“until after the fires. And then, someone would rule a pile of memory and ash. It was sickening to see, over and over. It truly is the worst part of living this long. Because in my heart, I hope that the next emperor will be different, but they never are.” She sighed and kissed my arm. I could smell the heat of her memories; feel the scorched earth under my feet. I’d lived it, albeit a modern version of what she had seen. I understood.
“I’m sorry you have so many memories to carry. They sound like things I’ve seen, but much more unrefined. More raw,” I confessed.
She looked up at me, and placed her glass carefully on the tile. “Wally told me that, in essence, you three do not know fear. I’ve chewed on this for some time, and I think it may be the greatest blessing I’ve ever imagined. Do you know that for years I hoped for children again?”
“I did not,” I answered, knowing how horrible the loss of her family had been.
“Yes, for decades. I hoped. I knew, but I still hoped, and then one year, when I was moving hastily up the coast of some minor kingdom, ahead of a brewing fight, I slept in an inn where the keeper took kindly to me. He lent me his own bed, and never raised a finger to touch me. It was a rarity, you see—it was expected that, for a place to lay my head, I would have some cock plunging into me roughly until I took my little pleasure of their life, even as they grunted away. But no, this man was a good, if timid soul, and he slept in another room. I awoke just before dawn, and I confess, I’d had much to drink, but I had a vision, right there in the bed, as real as you are to me now.” She covered her eyes with one hand, as if shielding the sun. The memory was close to her.
“What was it?” I asked, urging her on.
“Not what. Who. It was a boy. A child. He lay looking into my eyes, and I knew that he was mine. Not one of my children by my husband, but a possible child that I would bear, somewhere, at some point. For the briefest instant my heart surged with joy, a wonderful kind of abandon I had not known for centuries. I stared at his perfection, innocent, restful, his lips moving as he breathed and closed his eyes in the manner that all children do when their parents are near. They are safe, it is our sworn duty to give our life for them if necessary, and so they sleep with the assurance and calm like no other in the world. And just as soon as the wave of love and care for this—stranger, but only because we had not met, when that feeling peaked within me, I began to panic, because the world as it truly was shattered that feeling into dust. I felt a fear as paralyzing as anything I had known. My breath became ragged, my head reeled, and I thought I might roll from the bed and die there on that rough-hewn plank floor, and all because I knew that motherhood and war are one and the same.”
“They are?” I touched her hand again, and she twined her fingers into mine.
“You spend each night watching the shadows for intruders, protecting what is yours with every drop of blood that you can muster. When the strangers come, you fight them with your hands, and your blade, and all of your will until you win or you are dead. If you lose, you know nothing, perhaps except for that final moment of shame. If you win, you return to your post, and resume your watch, wondering with each and every sunset, ‘is this the one’?”
I had never heard of a love that shamed the very passion of warfare, until that moment.
She turned her face to mine and her eyes were bright with tears. “We will make love now, and we will probably regret it, but it won’t be due to the hangover. I’ll only regret it because I finally found someone worth protecting, and I’m third in line.” A sad smile crossed her lips, and she moved over me with great care. Her hands, small and active, found me and teased me upwards until I could feel the warmth of her around my edge, then my entire shaft, and then she rested, settling onto me and looking into my eyes with a sense of wonder. “I don’t even like mortals, and yet, I could love you.” When I began to speak, she put her mouth on mine, kissing me to a state of quiet. “Ring, I like your willingness to share. I love your guilt, I admit it, but only because I have so many years of telling myself that without anger, there can be no reward. I guess I’ll have to change that attitude.” She laughed, rising and falling gently in heavenly strokes as I held her slick body to mine.
“I care about your soul. I’m not so sure I care about mine right now,” I murmured into her neck. She made speech difficult and I couldn’t think clearly, but that was the plan all along. Delphine was the intoxicant, I was the addict, and I learned over the next hours to savor her without guilt. I had to. She was woven into our lives, and I knew she wasn’t leaving. She was exactly the third woman I had ever met who thought that my pleasure was her pleasure. In turn, I wound down like an old clock late on a Sunday evening. I explored. I pushed the tip of my tongue along her thighs in a contest to see how slowly I could reach the very core of her golden hair, and then I flicked my mouth across her parted lips in a rhythm to the heartbeat roaring in my ears. My mouth tasted every inch of her body, both in that shower and out, and when we were sweaty and exhausted we got back in and turned the water to scalding again, renewing my lust at the mere sight of her as she knelt to wash me. Every touch of her hand was free, random, and wondrous. When she took me in her mouth and gave me a bawdy wink, I finally understood—I hoped—that love could exist in multiple states among anyone who was brave enough to free themselves of jealousy and take it. She raised one brow as my breath drew short and I neared my climax, then simply pushed me against the wall as I exploded into her mouth, feeling her lips bend in a smile that drew me further into her throat, and we both laughed. I slid to the floor, spent but invigorated. I suspected she fed me somehow, perhaps even a return of the energy that she took from me in an immortal feedback that left us both giddily lethargic, but that was a discussion for later. Now, I lazed against her breasts, gulping air and listening to her heart, and then I laughed at the absurdity of having ever resisted her at all. She kissed me, long and slow, and whispered something lost to the hiss of spraying water. I knew it then, but I was too content to speak. It was love. Definitely love.
42
From Risa’s Files
Action Report: 6 May 1807
As anticipated by the Goddess, there has been an appearance now that warfare has erupted between the factions vying for control of the lands left by Napoleon. The British have tasked their army with surmounting the rising forces of Muhammad Ali, who has adopted a less than convivial policy towards the Crown.
Whereas, there have been several disappearances in the area of the bank specified by the Goddess’ warning, with
no evidence of bodies—
Whereas, there is no expectation that the victims were taken by beasts of the River, as they have wholly vanished, and there are no witnesses to such natural acts—
Whereas, as per the Goddess’ instructions, I have interviewed many persons who all claim to have seen the Bishop of Scales in his human form—
With the authority given me by the Goddess, I now call for the dispatch of the local Spear Faithful, who shall hound the Bishop until he is discovered, wounded, or if possible, overcome completely, that our Divine Mistress may commit his body to the mud of our holy waters.
The Faithful currently available number as five, and all are well-seasoned men of irrefutable character and devotion to Her waters. I release these servants to their duty with a simple instruction: harry the beast until he yields, and do not return until their spears are fouled with his unholy blood. May the Goddess see fit to allow these men of honor a renewal in Her water when they have succeeded.
43
Florida
As an experienced scholar of the human condition, Kevin studied Red’s face from afar. Body language revealed that Red was embroiled in a most difficult situation. He was masking. Like a predatory animal feigning nonchalance, there was the most subtle stiffness beneath the young man’s ordinary, unobtrusive shell. What’s on your mind? Kevin wondered, watching Red walk mechanically across the grounds to a waiting wheelbarrow loaded with soil. Kevin knew conflict, and everything about the usually obsequious Red bespoke a change within the man. What had once been a surety of the work of God, now inspired suspicion within the priest. The damnable taint of knowledge caused Kevin to examine each guilty step. Where he had once found love, he now found cause for fear. A twist in his guts made him wince. Was it anger, or resignation? Either sprang from the same fountain, a poisoned well dug by the simple act of knowing that a man could lose even more than his life in this world. He could lose his soul.
From across the street, Kevin was being watched as well. His observer took careful note of every detail in the scene that had played out. The priest is worldlier than he lets on. He knows that the boy’s time of observation is at end, but he does not suspect the motive, thought the goddess, watching once again. She stood unseen between two cars in the heat of the parking lot, deciding the fate of the man who called himself Red. During this incident, there was no hesitation. He would have to die, and she began to formulate the method of his demise. It was the details that determined what was . . . advisable.
Of one thing, she was certain. No one would ever find Red’s body. It would be committed in her name, and her children alone would welcome him.
44
Virginia
When cornered, Ella Tolson was no match for the combined intensity of Risa and Wally. She dissolved—crumbled, really—and told them a narrative of loneliness and anger, all stemming from the inevitable grief of her parents being murdered. They were not merely lost. There was no method to their demise, and it was a jarring, inexplicable murder at the hands of a people who bridged the gap between humanity and hell. Risa believed that it was the loss of certainty, not just family, that caused Ella to implode in a cloud of hate and suspicion. Only after a careful explanation of exactly and what they were, did Ella come to understand the enormity of what was unfolding. In protecting Boots, even in her sour, vicious manner, Ella built a reasonably sound web of contacts among people who were not only aware of the Undying, but sought them out. Her construction of that network was torched the second she reached out to a highly exposed, fearless team that knew little and cared less for their anonymity. By association, the Tolsons were now forced from the shadows. That meant they were known.
Ella explained the emails from a new, unverified source, and how the trail of breadcrumbs led through time and distance to the present day. She elaborated on what slim inferences could be gained within those communications—a tale of fanatical zealots who served a nameless goddess, people who quite literally ran immortals to the brink of exhaustion and then executed them. Risa was deeply troubled by the idea of a fanaticism, as she had seen the effects of such things up close during her childhood in Israel. It was nothing she cared to see again, regardless of her burgeoning immortality, because Risa was, and always would be, a careful soul whose awareness preceded her like a shadow. Without a word, Risa made the decision that there would be another stop before they flew home. She detested loose ends, and wasting an opportunity to put her fears to rest wasn’t just inefficient, it was dangerous. She kept silent about her plans, discreetly using a hand signal for Wally to follow her to the restroom when they stopped for gas. Within seconds of Risa explaining, Wally grasped her reasoning for taking a different route home, and they bounded out of the bathroom with new purpose. Immortals never forget, one of the emails had read, and they never forgive. Risa was counting on that very fact.
Ella and the girls had not parted as friends, but they hadn’t left as enemies, either, and that was sufficient to open a dialogue, which was the entire motivation for the trip. Boots drove them to the airport, and when they boarded the plane, he was already gone. At the last glance of his face, Wally had seen a painfully lonely man. Boots lived in fear that the world would savage him if he ever stepped beyond the borders of his little corner in Southwestern Virginia.
Wally sensed what Boots hated to admit-- his weakness and shame kept him landlocked, and she felt pity for the boy living along a river, far from anywhere important.
45
Florida
Victory. Absolute, total, world-ass-kicking victory. That was the first thought rolling through my mind as I gently took stock of the situation. My limbs were present, accounted for, and in good order. My head felt . . . normal, given the bottle of champagne, which was ordinarily a form of liquid headache for me, despite my constitution. It also induced some form of beautiful amnesia, because no amount of hangovers could make me desist from drinking the noble wine on special occasions. Delphine counted as just such an event, and I lolled about on her enormous mattress, pulling myself from the origami our lovemaking had formed out of the sheets and looking for her in the enormous suite. I heard her just then, feet light on the sumptuous carpet as she rounded the open door with a small tray.
“What is that smell? It’s like all the best parts of a carnival in my nose.” I sniffed, and she laughed musically as she placed the tray on a lacquered side table. True to her word, pitch black coffee and beignets awaited me, and I took a moment to marvel at the scene.
She pointed at the tray. “Told you. Now eat. How do you feel? Before you answer, I feel a bit tired, but, still . . .” Her lips quirked.
“I know,” I said, taking a mug from the tray. “I feel fantastic, really. Did you happen to take a picture for us to send to Wally?” I took an experimental sip. The coffee was hot, strong, and expensive. When she shook her head, I fumbled for my phone and handed it to her. I posed by the breakfast tray and gave a thumbs up sign, accompanied with the cheesiest smile I could muster. Delphine tapped the screen and handed me the phone, rolling her eyes.
“Are you sure you didn’t sell used cars? That smile was oily.” She smirked and served herself a beignet, biting into it with a delicate crunch.
“Annnd—sent. There.” I returned my attention to her and put the phone down. “Let her savor my joy. I know she’s hoping for some crippling malaise to hit me, and I want her to start her day off right.”
Delphine put her coffee down and curled sinuously around me on the bed, a feat given her small stature. “Twice last night you had an expression on your face, like you remembered something important. What was it?” She kissed my hand lightly and resumed eating her second beignet. I guess two centuries in any city will make you an expert in local cuisine.
“Oh, that.” I took measure of our surroundings, stalling for time. “You said you, well, that it’s lonely here. And,” I began, letting the thought coalesce again, “you’re making progress with Kevin, but I know you. There has to be a purpose
to your rehabilitation, right?”
“Of course. I’m far too old for busy work, dear.” She grinned. “I find it insulting.”
I dipped my head in agreement. “Well, what about bringing—not many Undying, but maybe one at a time, a soul who is willing to be helped? An immortal who wants a better path, something less destructive? You have the space. You have the means, and you have a strong network of friends and allies. I don’t think you owe anyone anything, but if you feel compelled to give pay penance, why not here?”
She relaxed further into me, and drew her fingertip along the line of my jaw. I could see her discarding flawed aspects of such a plan before she bothered to speak. “A year ago, my concerns would have precluded such a thing. But, and I hesitate to say this, it isn’t a bad idea.”
“What were your concerns? And what are they now?” I asked.
“Security, Ring. It always began with my personal security, and yes, I know I’m a survivor, but I didn’t live this long by being cavalier with my own safety. With Achilles, Patroclus, of course there is you, and the girls.” She dusted powdered sugar from her fingers and chewed her lip for a moment, thinking. “Security is no longer an issue. I’m afraid my only protests against doing such work are rather mundane. I’m selfish.”
“You are? You don’t seem to be. You give the most marvelous—” I began, but she tapped me on the nose and scowled.
“Hush. I won’t tolerate such sass from a man who is clearly thinking about a blowjob, even as he eats breakfast that I made him with my own delicate hands.” She turned her smile up at me and I laughed. She had me there. Not that it took a detective to realize that Delphine’s head in my lap led directly to rather wanton thoughts. “I am selfish. But to save innocents who I don’t know, I will open my home, such as it is, and begin rebuilding that which I have torn. I have a plan, it only came to me after I realized that prowling some dreadful nightclub isn’t only futile, it’s tedious. I may even have an assistant, of sorts, if you can call my grandmother an assistant.”
Box Set: The Fearless 1-3 Page 66