Tate's Task

by Lilith Darville

  “Excellent. We’ll work on putting together a meeting schedule as a first step. Thank you all.” By this time, my introverted soul wants to flee to a quiet room, preferably with Bob in tow, and recharge my batteries, but no such luck. I force a wide smile on my face and make small talk with the staff as we disperse.

  5

  — Francis —

  Nameless meets us as I follow Tate and the staff out of the room. That was a most informative meeting, although it raised more questions than it answered. It also gave me a lead on something that had been bothering me about Tate since she arrived—mortals don’t have powers until they pass all eight levels and earn them. I want time in my library to pursue a couple of hunches.

  I tap Nameless on the shoulder. “Will you stay with Tate while I check some things in the library?”

  “Oh, man, really? I was hoping to see Winsha. She’s some pissed since she heard about the scene last night. I’ve got to see her.” The pout permanently affixed to Nameless’s face deepens.

  I sigh inwardly. No use trying to convince the young fool of the error of his ways. He adjusts his guitar on his back and strides off in the opposite direction. I catch up to Tate as she has a word with the woman named Michele and hone in with my exceptional hearing.

  “I’ll only have about fifteen minutes with each of you. We’ll figure out something then.” Tate turns and smiles at me. That smile chases away all my resentment at not being able to go to the library.

  Tate takes my arm, seemingly oblivious to what the lingering busybody staff might say about it.

  “Well, that was interesting,” Tate says. “What on earth do you think possessed Elyon? Does he have issues?”

  “He has issues all right, but hallucinating isn’t one of them. This might come as a shock, mo chridhe, but you caused the possession, as you call it.”

  Tate looks up at me in shock that she quickly shuts down. She shakes her head. “I don’t have time for this now. Can we talk tonight?”

  Nothing would make me happier. “Absolutely.” I resist the urge to give one of the courtly bows that was so much a part of our past. Perhaps appearing more modern in my behavior will help her connect with me better. Following her cue, I go back to business. “Why don’t we drop by your office after you talk to the apprentices. I’ll introduce you to Dorbhe, your assistant.” That was not a bad idea. There were a number of lofty tomes in the headmistress’s office that dealt with academy history. Although I’d wanted to get my hands on them over the centuries, I wasn’t willing to pay the price each headmistress wanted to exact. Maybe one of them would reveal something.

  “Sounds like a plan. Should we grab a bite to eat first? What about the other guys?” Tate asks. “I can debrief them on what I’ve learned today, and maybe together, we can think of a new approach to the infestation.” A tiny knot of pleasure makes its way up my spine. Tate’s esteem for the clan gives me hope that we’re finally going to come together this go-round.

  “Dorbhe can let them know where we are. Here’s the auditorium.” I open one of two massive carved doors and a wall of disgruntled voices slams into us. Tate pauses for a moment on the threshold and listens. The apprentices sit with their backs to us, but Bob and Caleb sit in chairs lined up in a similar fashion to the staff conference room. Of course, Bob’s penetrating gaze focuses on us, on our linked arms. I tuck Tate’s arm in closer to me. He is going to have to learn how to share.

  “I can’t fucking believe they got me out of bed for this.”

  “Does anyone know what happened to Sorban?”

  “I heard an incubus got her.”

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, not another one.”

  Tate looks up at me. “It’s not as bad as I feared. There’s more curiosity than fear.” She squares her shoulders. “Showtime.”

  I cup her cheek in that intimate gesture Bob thinks he owns and brush my lips over Tate’s plump mouth. “Break a leg, mo chridhe.”

  She shivers with delight and gives that shy, sexy smile, a blend of innocence and iniquity that hasn’t changed over the ages. If I couldn’t feel him, Bob’s possessiveness would still be obvious by the flare of his nostrils. I use a tiny bit of emotion manipulation to hide Bob’s tension from her without one ounce of guilt . . . I refuse to let his selfishness ruin another of her moments. With the determination and sense of command she’s carried through the ages, she walks down the step of the auditorium toward the stage below.

  When she reaches the platform, she steps to the podium to address the assembly, for all outward appearances calm as the Dead Sea. Inside, butterflies flit around her stomach, looking for purchase. The apprentices keep muttering.

  “Yoah.” Tate’s voice rings out like the crack of a bullwhip. The murmuring voices stop instantly. I could hear a mouse scurry if we had such pests in Bardo. Instead, we have incubi, succubi, and questionably sane gods.

  “Good afternoon. Thank you for coming on such short notice. My name is Tate Spencer, and as you’ve no doubt already gathered, I’m your new headmistress.” A sea of faces looks up at her expectantly.

  “I won’t keep you long as we’ve got an incubus to find. First, a bit about me. I’ve got a solid background in running schools just like this” Well, maybe not just like this. “Which is why the gods have asked me to give you all a hand. There are only three things you need to know about me as your leader. She holds up her index finger. Tate has always loved her lists and counting them off.

  “One, I mean what I say and say what I mean. The middle finger joins the index. Two, I have zero tolerance for dishonesty. You’re far better off taking the consequences for an infraction than having me catch you in a lie. Trust me on this. And, three, I’m ruthless when crossed. Other than that, I’m pretty easy to get along with.” She looks around the auditorium, a welcoming smile plastered on her face.

  “I want to reassure you we will throw the full resources of the academy behind solving this mystery. Your safety is our first priority. Your instructors and I need a couple of days to investigate and put some safety procedures in place. In the meantime, it’s important that you understand that these beings can shift. They can assume the identity of your closest friend or lover. For your protection, travel in groups, but only enter your quarters alone . . . because, if you invite someone in, you can’t be sure they are who they appear to be. And if someone seems to be not exactly themselves, get yourself away from them and have me summoned.”

  A murmur immediately rises amid the crowd. Tate raises her hand, and silence falls. She smiles. “Thank you. I think you’ll be happy with my next news. We’re giving you the rest of this week as a reading week. The usual school rules apply.”

  Because I’m assuming they have some? The thought ricochets through my skull. A few. I give her the answer she needs.

  Cheers break out. Tate’s hand goes up again. “We’ll post notices outside of my office, so please check the board daily. Thank you all. Keep safe.”

  The apprentices immediately get up and pour from the auditorium. Tate steps away from the podium and seems to lock in on Bob’s rather disgruntled-looking face. Worry replaces the brief feeling of triumph she had from the assembly. She hurries over to Bob and bends to whisper in his ear. “Are you okay?”

  Instead of letting her off the hook, he frowns up at her, ratcheting up her concern. “We’ll talk later.” He pushes his chair back from the table and walks out of the room. Caleb puts his arm around Tate’s shoulders and gives her a squeeze. “Don’t worry, babe. He’ll come around.”

  “He’s never liked sharing.” Nameless, having arrived just after Tate began speaking, steps in front of her. The sexual energy between the two of them since the spanking scene is almost a physical thing, like watching electricity arc between two conductors.

  Tate’s lovely forehead wrinkles as I hear her inner voice work out what’s bothering Bob.

  “We mean sharing you, of course,” Caleb announces cheerfully. The guy has no guile, and as much
as I’ve come to cherish him, there are times I could throttle him, and now is one of them.

  Even if I tried not to read Tate’s thoughts, right now I’d fail. Her inner conflict is noisy. Desires and mores war within her mind until determination and stubbornness call themselves winners. “He’s my husband. Of course he wouldn’t want to share.”

  The edge in Tate’s voice should be a warning, but our Caleb is oblivious. Seemingly, so is Nameless as he opens his mouth as well. Sard.

  I quickly step into the fray. “More about this later. We don’t want to keep Dorbhe waiting.” I tuck Tate’s free arm into mine and usher her off.

  “Wait. I’ve got to talk to Bob.” Tate tries to tug her arm free.

  “We’ll see him shortly, mo chridhe.” I decide to try another tack. “The staff will be looking for their appointment times, and you wouldn’t want them to think you’re disorganized, would you?”

  Tate sighs but stops resisting. But it’s clear she isn’t done with this, nor will she let it go. I pull open the office door and show Tate into a reception area that resembles a comfortable sitting room. An extremely beautiful pixie with wings like green gossamer silk sits behind a large oak desk. She stands and offers a shy smile. Tate rushes forward with her hand outstretched.

  “You must be Dorbhe.” Tate wraps Dorbhe’s small hand in both of hers. “I’m so pleased to meet you. I’m so looking forward to getting to know you. I’m counting on you to show me the ropes and keep me out of trouble.”

  Dorbhe preens under the attention, completely unaware that Tate is using her incredible intuition to assess her strengths and talents. Despite her fragile appearance, Dorbhe is a formidable force to reckon with, and once she commits her allegiance to someone, it’s for life. “Likewise, Miss Spencer. Just let me know what you need. Is there anything I can get for you now?”

  “First, please call me Tate. Spencer is my maiden name, and all this surname stuff just gets confusing. Since you’ll be my right hand, it’s only appropriate that you call me Tate, don’t you think?”

  Dorbhe nods and flutters her wings.

  “I’m desperate for your help but, between you and me, I need a five-minute breather after the morning I’ve had. Can you give me five minutes then bring me the staff files, please?”

  Dorbhe nods. “Of course, Tate. Anything else you need? I understand you’ll be meeting with each of the staff this afternoon. Perhaps a suggested schedule?”

  “I can tell already you’re a gods-send. Bring whatever you think I need.”

  “Will do.” Dorbhe flits over to the file cabinets in a small room behind her desk. I open the carved door to the headmistress’s inner sanctum. Tate steps through and gasps as if she’s stepped into her own personal wet dream. I’d designed this room with my beloved Gianna in mind, and it has almost every one of her favorite decor things: rich wood, books, large beveled glass panes in wrought-iron window frames, thick draperies, and tastefully artful carpeting. A beautiful desk that I had designed specifically for Gianna is the centerpiece of the room. She rushes over to the large bay window and breathes in the view before circling the desk, running her finger along the carved edge. Her pleasure is obvious, and I’m delighted. She turns to face me. I move into her personal space. She doesn’t move, barely breathes.

  “You did this, didn’t you?” She sweeps her arm around the room.

  Everything in me screams to take her in my arms, but I restrain myself. “You like?”

  “It’s beautiful. Thank you.” Tate licks her bottom lip before catching it between her teeth. Almost invisible filaments of light arc between our unity brands, weaving a beautiful pattern between us and around us, insistently pulling us closer together.

  Stop! No! Tate’s mental scream reverberates through my skull. A sharp rap on the door startles us, and it feels like a physical slap when she tears away from me and puts the desk between us. “Come in.”

  Dorbhe floats inside the door and turns to me. “Zeus requests your presence, Lord Fraser. At the Olympian Palace.” She must sense my objection because she moves aside and Nameless and his faithful guitar enter the room. “Nameless will stand guard until you return.”

  At the mention of Zeus’s name, a thought or a memory flutters at the edge of my consciousness, and I try to bring it to mind as I step into the corridor that connects the various regions of Bardo.

  Zeus sits with a rather muscular leg looped over the arm of a massive throne in his Tribunal office. He’s assumed a Jay Gatsby look, probably because sexy boyish blonds charm the pants off most mortals. I cross the slate floor and bow a knee on the step below the throne.

  “Your majesty.” I lift my head and kiss his proffered thunderbolt ring.

  “You may rise. Have a seat, me boy.” Zeus gestures to the chair beside him. His use of a thick Scottish brogue signals a good mood for which I’m grateful. “Bring me up to speed with what’s going on?” He looks at me with guileless blue eyes that hide the wisdom of the ages and one hell of a temper.

  How does one answer such a broad question? What exactly is he fishing for? I hesitate, unsure of how to proceed and unwilling to set off that hair-trigger temper of his. “The new headmistress came through ascension cold fever without harm. There was an incubus abduction last night.”

  Zeus waves away my news with a dismissive hand. “I understand Aphrodite put a cloaking spell on all of you when we brought this Tate here. Aphrodite’s spells cannot hold in the Fade, so I’m assuming you’ve got your memory back. Correct?”

  “Some,” I hedge. “I remember how we first met and became branded.” But the memories leave me with more questions than answers, such as where Tate got her powers and why the gods, especially Zeus, are so interested in her.

  Zeus gives me a look that reminds me of the look Tate calls her stink eye. “Has your memory of our deal come back to you?”

  I must look stunned because Zeus roars in laughter. “Methinks the girls are having their way with you. Let me help.” Zeus tips his ring in my direction, and a thin beam of Ether breaks free and filters over me like fairy dust. Zeus’s voice booms in my head.

  “I’ve taken a personal interest in Lady Gianna de Vincent, and I see that she’s formed a destined mate unity bond with you and her husband, Lord Robert, and the mewling werewolf pup you picked up. I have chosen you to keep Gianna safe and keep this clan you’ve formed together until you’ve all passed through the trials and the destined mate brand activates. Otherwise, you’ll answer directly to me.” And, he’d thrown a thunderbolt at my feet, damned near frying me out of existence. He’d bellowed with laughter as that, and a few other memories plant themselves in my head.

  As memory flashes back, I wonder the same thing I’d wondered four hundred years ago: why has Zeus taken such a personal interest in our Tate? And that thought at the edge of my consciousness frantically waves to get my attention. Something about Tate’s powers and the intense godly interest in her just doesn’t add up.

  “So, what’s the problem this time?” Zeus examines his ring while he waits for my answer.

  “It’s Robert. He continues to maintain his insistence that he be her first and only. It would move things along if I had Robert on board.”

  Zeus frowns. “I’m assuming you’ve set him straight?”

  “I’ve tried, but his cloaking spell is firmly in hold, so he has only flashes of memory that are easy to dismiss.”

  Zeus taps his shield while I try not to squirm under his penetrating gaze. Eventually, he holds out his hand, palm up, and a small bottle appears. He stands and puts his arm around my shoulder, presses the bottle into my palm, and walks me to the door. “I’m running out of patience and want this settled once and for all, so I’ll do what I can to help you. I can’t reverse Aphrodite’s or Hera’s spells, but I can send a memory manipulation spell that can break through cracks in their spells. It’s not one hundred percent but should help move things along with Robert. Give him a few drops of this and appeal to his baser instincts
. That should help move things along.”

  He pats me on the shoulder and deposits me back in the office with Tate and Nameless.

  6

  — Tate —

  I damned near salivate the moment I lay eyes on Nameless until guilt hits in equal force. The image of my naked ass bent over his lap floats through my mind. I want more of that. I want more of Francis. I want to be true to Bob. I stare at my unity brand with its extra buds. Things are moving entirely too fast for me.

  Memories of last night come flooding back as Nameless gracefully crosses the room and takes a seat in a comfy-looking armchair to the side of my desk. He gazes right back at me, and that pout of his almost makes me fold at the knees. He looks at me from smoky kohl-lined eyes veiled by lashes that are wasted on a guy, and the heat coming from them speaks volumes. Don’t go thinking you can get on your high horse with me because I’ve spanked your ass. It takes every last bit of determination I have not to clap my hands over my burning ears. His smirk tells me he knows just what I’m thinking.

  He’s wearing another pair of tight black jeans, only today, he’s swapped out the black T-shirt for a purple muscle shirt that shows off every amazing line of his lithe, muscular form. Although the smallest of the guys at about five feet eight, his perfectly sculptured body makes him seem larger than life. I lick my lips as my eyes just happen to track down the delicious curve of his bare bicep and forearm, stopping dead as they land on his long elegant fingers . . . attached to the hand that spanked me. Something physical similar to an electrical surge pulses through me as I remember the feeling of his calloused fingertips brushing my clit. My pinkish parts immediately explode into an imitation of the geysers in Yellowstone Park. Hands that remind me I’d said sexual touching was allowed. Hands that I could still feel in the heat burning my ass. Reminding me that I’d moaned and squirmed in his lap. That some of his slaps had sent vibrations through my clit. That when he’d stopped, I’d wanted more. That I’d begged him to make me come.