[Santa Olivia 02] - Saints Astray

by Jacqueline Carey

  They nodded.

  “Nine times out of ten, you can talk someone out of whatever piece of dumbwittery they’re contemplating. But that tenth time…” He raised a finger. “You’ve got to be prepared. And no half measures. What you start, you finish.”

  “What about, like, assassins and stuff?” Loup asked.

  Clive smiled a little. “You’re not likely to be guarding heads of state, sweetheart. Or at least not as part of a team specializing in counterterrorism. You’re a novelty act—for show, for bragging rights.”

  “Oh.” She looked disappointed.

  “Don’t worry. If you get through this first six weeks, I’ll still teach you the basics of threat assessment. Just don’t think you’re going to be running around shouting ‘He’s got a gun!’ and tackling bad guys. More likely you’ll be fending off some puffed-up pop star’s groupies or attending a meeting with some Japanese corporate mogul who wants to show the world he can afford to hire the one and only.”

  “Sitting the babies,” Loup murmured.

  The corners of Pilar’s mouth twitched.

  “What’s that?” Clive asked. “Oh, babysitting. Too right.”

  The routine—and Pilar’s silence toward Loup—continued mostly unbroken for another week. Clive decided Pilar had made enough progress to spend some time working the bag on her own, and spent some time with Loup on throws and locks and what he called come-along grips.

  “How’s your hand strength?” he asked, sticking out his own. “Give me a good squeeze.”

  She squeezed.

  “Ow! Mind me bones.” He shook out his hand. “See, then, you can pull this off. Simplest thing in the world.” He grabbed her right wrist and bent her thumb backward. “Most people’ll come along nice and quiet rather than suffer a dislocated thumb. Separates us from the animals, you know.” He let her go and looked thoughtfully at her. “I know I said no nancy-pants shit, but there’s a fellow not far from here teaches jujitsu and knows all about nerve points. Most folks don’t have the touch for it, but you might.”

  “Okay,” she agreed.

  At the end of the second week, Pilar made her third attempt on the obstacle course. She made it across the monkey bars with a good deal of difficulty, did the ladder drop with a good deal of trepidation, and cleared the pit.

  Not the wall.

  “I just don’t have anything left by the time I get there,” she said to Rogers.

  “You will.” He rubbed her shoulders. “Keep working that upper body.”

  On the following Sunday, they were actually given an afternoon of free time. Loup went for a long run by herself, bypassing the forest to explore the countryside. Afterward she wandered into the gym, and found Pilar doing pull-ups. She stood for a moment, watching her.

  “Hey,” Pilar gasped, unexpectedly acknowledging her. “You’re so totally checking me out.”

  “Maybe.” Loup smiled. “Look at you, all muy macha.”

  She dropped. “I can only do six or seven. But that’s six or seven more than I could do two weeks ago.” She thrust out her bare arm, tensing her muscles. “Look. You can see the difference.”

  “Pretty impressive,” Loup agreed.

  “Do you like me better this way?”

  “Better? No. I like you every way.”

  “Good.” Pilar sighed. “Because if I get through this, I swear to God, I’m never working out this hard again in my life.”

  “Does this mean I exist again?”

  “Yeah, I guess.” She smiled wryly. “I don’t know for sure if I’ll pass, but at least I don’t think it’s gonna kill me anymore. Anyway, I miss you.”

  Loup shook her head. “Pilar…”

  “I know, I know. Shut up. It worked for me.” Pilar grabbed her hand. “Hey, let me try and throw you.”

  On the mat, she executed a fairly decent hip throw. Loup ignored all of Clive’s instructions on falling and caught Pilar around the waist at the last minute, bringing her down atop her and cushioning her fall.

  “Oof!” Pilar caught her breath. “No fair, baby.” She kissed Loup’s throat. “But I’m not exactly complaining.”

  “Oh, you don’t get off that easy.” Loup rolled her over. She pinned Pilar’s lower body with her legs, bracing herself on her arms above her. “Two weeks!”

  “I told you why!” Pilar wound her arms around Loup’s neck, trying in vain to tug her head down. “Don’t be mean.”

  “I’m not.” Loup relented and kissed her.

  “Mmm.” Pilar got her legs free and scissored them around Loup’s waist, trying to roll her. Loup let her, enjoying Pilar’s pleasure in her newfound strength. Her hands slid under Loup’s tank top as she kissed her. “Now I have you.”

  “Inneresting technique,” a voice above them offered.

  Pilar scrambled to her feet, flushing. “We were just… umm…”

  “I can see what you were doing, sunshine,” Clive said mildly. “All made up, are we?”

  “Are we?” Loup asked Pilar.

  She smiled sidelong at her. “Yeah.”

  Clive cleared his throat. “Well, it’s very commendable to find you both in the gymnasium during your free time, but if all you’re planning on practicing is snogging and groping, I suggest you take it elsewhere.”

  “Okay.” Pilar pulled Loup to her feet and began leading her toward the door.

  “I didn’t mean this very second!” he called after them.

  “Too late!” Loup called over her shoulder.

  It was a blissful relief to have things back to normal between them, but it didn’t fix everything. By the end of five weeks, Pilar could complete a 5K run and do the whole obstacle course—even the wall.

  She just couldn’t do it in under an hour.

  “More cardio,” Rogers advised her. “You’ve got to push yourself, sweetheart.”

  “I am!”

  “Push harder.”

  They got a break from the hand-to-hand training in the final week when Clive taught them marksmanship.

  “We provide discreet security,” he said. “When you carry, you’re gonna carry concealed.” He slid a small pistol from a side pocket holster. “This here’s what we call a Baby Glock. It’s a nine-millimeter subcompact semiautomatic pistol, and before you get your hands anywhere near it, you’re getting a long talk on gun safety.”

  It was a long talk, indeed.

  “Is it loaded?” Pilar asked when he finished, eyeing it fearfully.

  He shook his head. “Not yet.”

  After further demonstrations, he led them to the firing range, taught them the correct stance and grip and how to align the sight and pull the trigger. He had them dry-fire the pistol until he was satisfied, then showed them how to load it and check the chamber, drilling them over and over.

  “Right.” He pushed a button, and a paper target with the outline of a man slid forward. “Here goes.”

  The pistol cracked three times in succession, spitting out casings. Pilar jumped and put her hands over her ears. Three neat holes appeared around the edges of the figure’s marked heart. Clive pushed the button again and removed the target, summoned a new one.

  “Give it a go, Taz,” he said, handing the pistol to Loup.

  She aligned the sight and squeezed the trigger. The pistol kicked in her hand. A hole appeared in the target.

  “Nicked his spleen,” Clive observed. “Try again.”

  She fired it three more times, getting closer to the heart.

  “Not bad. It takes practice.” His Dataphone rang. He fished it out and glanced at it. “I’ve got to take this. Sit tight until I finish. No unsupervised gunplay.” They nodded, and he answered his phone, walking a distance away. “Yes, Mr. Lindberg.”

  “Ooh, Magnus.” Pilar nudged Loup. “Go eavesdrop, baby. You’ve got really sharp ears.”

  “Okay,” Loup agreed.

  She drifted closer toward Clive, pretending to examine the target mechanism.

  “Yessir, absolutely,” he was
saying. “Not a problem in the world. If I had ten of Loup, I could invade a small country.” Pause. “To be honest, I’ve not made up me mind.” His voice was troubled. “She’s a nice girl and she’s trying hard. If she were just some bird taking a self-defense class, I’d pass her with flying colors, but the caliber you want for this line of work?” He shook his head. “I’m not sure.” He listened. “That’s Rogers’ lookout. She might make it, she might not. My call, that’s purely on defense skills.” He listened some more. “We’ll see. Maybe she’ll surprise me.”

  Loup sidled back.

  “Well?” Pilar asked.

  She shook her head, the lie making her heart ache a little. “Nothing.”

  “All right, then.” Clive came striding back. “You ready, sunshine? Your turn.”

  Pilar handled the loaded gun gingerly.

  “It’s not gonna bite and it’s not gonna go off by itself,” he said. “Widen your stance a touch. Flexed elbows, locked wrists. There you go.”

  She lined up the sight and pulled the trigger. The pistol fired and a hole appeared in the target, slightly off center in the heart. She blinked. “Ohmigod. Did I do that?”

  “Jaysus!” Clive breathed. “Can you do it again?”

  She fired three more times, holding the pistol with increased confidence with every shot. All but one of the shots pierced the target’s heart, and the one that missed, missed by only inches. “Holy shit!”

  “Holy shit, indeed.” He called up the target, unhooked it, and presented it to her with a bow. “Nice shooting, sunshine. Who’d of thought it, eh?”

  Pilar accepted it, dazed—but not so dazed that she didn’t remember to keep the pistol safely pointed at the ground. “No kidding.”

  Loup smiled happily. “Surprise!”

  Clive narrowed his eyes at her. “Little pitchers have big ears, methinks.”

  “Huh?”

  “Hey, Clive?” Pilar folded her target. “Is Sabine a good shot?”

  “That one?” He scratched his head. “Just missed qualifying for the Moscow Olympics. I forget which event. It might have been the fifty-meter rifle. Why?”

  Pilar sighed. “No reason.”

  THIRTEEN

  Ben Rogers clicked off his stopwatch. “Sixty-one minutes, seventeen seconds.”

  Pilar dropped to the ground, gasping for breath. “Fuck!”

  “How bad do you want it?”

  She glared up at him. “After all this? Bad!”

  He shrugged. “Tomorrow’s the day. What can I tell you, sweetheart? I’ve done all I can for you. Run faster.”

  At dinner Pilar was downcast, picking at her fish.

  “You’ve gotta eat,” Loup said. “You’re gonna need the energy. Forget the fish, eat your fries. Floyd always said carbs were best.”

  She shook her head. “Doesn’t matter,” she said in a defeated, weary tone. “I’ve tried and tried. I can’t do it, Loup. I can’t crack an hour. I’m sorry, I really am. And they don’t call them fries here, baby. They call them chips.”

  “Whatever. Pilar, let me pace you tomorrow.”

  “Huh?”

  “On the run,” Loup said patiently. “Rogers is right; you need to run faster. You’re holding back because you’re still scared of the obstacle course.”

  Pilar scowled. “No offense, baby, but what do you know about being scared?”

  “A lot in some ways, because I have to work harder to figure it out. Not just for me, for other people, too. You’re scared. But you don’t have to be.” She slid one hand up Pilar’s arm, squeezed her bicep gently. “You’re muy macha now, sí? You’re not gonna fall off the monkey bars, and you can make it over the wall, even if you’re tired.”

  A faint ray of hope dawned on Pilar’s face. “You really think it would work?”

  She nodded. “I can keep time in my head really good. All those years of running on that stupid fucking treadmill in the stupid fucking garage. I won’t go fast, only exactly as fast as you need to go to finish under an hour. All you’ve gotta do is keep up with me.”

  “Promise?”

  “I promise.” Loup smiled. “We can do this.”

  Pilar smiled back at her. “Okay.” She took a deep breath. “I’m picturing the look on that bitch Sabine’s face when she hears I passed.”

  “Hold that thought,” Loup advised her.

  The following day, Clive was there to observe the trial. Loup told him her idea.

  “Yeah, go ahead,” he said. “But when you hit the obstacle course, I want you out in front, girlie. I don’t want any reason to remotely suspect you’ve done something like give her a boost over the wall.”

  “I wouldn’t!” she protested.

  “You might if we’d thought of it,” Pilar said pragmatically.

  “Ready?” Rogers held up the stopwatch. They nodded. “Go!”

  They took off running down the wooded trail. Loup let Pilar settle into her pace, then increased it marginally, marking time in her head and holding on to hope. They ran and ran, sneakered feet thudding softly on the dirt trail. “Keep up,” Loup warned when Pilar lagged slightly. “I’m cutting it real close like I promised.”

  Pilar nodded, not sparing breath to speak.

  They ran.

  “Okay,” Loup said, seeing the end of the trail approaching. “When we reach the lawn, I’m gonna pull ahead. You’re good. Just hit the course as hard as you can, just like in training.”

  Another breathless nod.

  On open ground, Loup went ahead of Pilar. She gauged her pace carefully—enough for Clive to see distance between them, not so much that it intimidated Pilar. She swung along the monkey bars, raced lightly along the balance beam, vaulted and ducked through the over-and-unders. Wriggled agilely under the belly crawl netting and danced through the trip wires. Scrambled up and down the rope netting and completed the ladder drop with fearless aplomb. Hurdled the pit, scaled the assault wall, and crossed the finish line. Rogers glanced at his stopwatch and gave her a brief nod.

  All of them watched Pilar.

  “C’mon,” Rogers muttered over his breath, looking from her to the watch. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon!”

  She cleared the wall and ran the last few yards. He clicked the watch. She doubled over, gasping, hands braced on her knees. “Well?”

  He was beaming. “Fifty-nine minutes, forty-six seconds.”

  She straightened. “Are you serious?”

  “Too fucking right!”

  “Ohmigod!” Pilar flung her arms around him.

  “You did it, sunshine!” Clive shouted, grinning. She hugged him, too, kissing his cheek. “Way to go!”

  “You.” Pilar turned to Loup, grabbed her face, and kissed her. “Thanks, baby.”

  “Yeah.” Loup grinned. “You were awesome.”

  Clive had his phone out. “Yessir, it’s me, Mr. Lindberg. Yessir, just this minute. Uh-huh. With fourteen seconds to spare. Yessir, I’m passing her on the strength of her marksmanship. We’re both passing her.” He listened, smiling. “I will, sir. Bye now.” He ended the call. “Mr. Lindberg sends his congratulations to both of you.”

  Dinner that night was a celebration. Clive, Rogers, and Adelaide all joined them for dinner and the table was adorned with a lush bouquet of peach-hued roses and an oversized ice bucket with an extra-large bottle of champagne in it. There was a note of congratulations tied around the neck of the bottle.

  “A magnum from Magnus,” Clive declared. “Right magnanimous! Shall I do the honors?”

  “Sure,” Loup agreed.

  He popped the cork and poured out five glasses. Pale gold champagne fizzed softly in the tall flutes. “Savor it,” he advised them. “Mr. Lindberg only sends the best.”

  “Did he sound surprised?” Pilar asked.

  “Yeah.” Clive smiled. “And rather tickled in the bargain.”

  “I think he kinda likes you, Pilar.” Loup sipped her champagne. It was crisp and creamy all at once, tiny bubbles making her tongue tin
gle. “Wow. This is nothing like the stuff we had at Diego and Maria’s wedding. You remember?” Pilar made a noncommittal sound. “You do. That’s when I asked you why you weren’t talking to me.”

  “Do you make a habit of it, dear?” Adelaide inquired.

  “No!” Pilar said in exasperation. “I just… you had to be there, okay?” She blew out her breath. “You really think Magnus likes me?” she asked Loup.

  “Uh-huh.” She took another sip. “He loosens up around you.”

  “Mr. Lindberg expressed the opinion that he found you quite unintentionally charming,” Clive confirmed, holding up his glass and studying the rising bubbles. “And he very much wishes to retain Loup’s services. He’s looking forward to exploring ways of employing you creatively as a team.” He lowered his glass and tapped his temple with one finger. “Mind, you’ve got ten more weeks of training in which we’ll be cramming your wee noggins with all sorts of knowledge. You’re not out of the woods yet, girlies.”

  “Oh, give ’em a break, Clive!” Rogers said in a surprisingly good-natured tone. “They’ve earned the right to celebrate.”

  Pilar glanced at Loup. “Speaking of celebrating…”

  “Oh, we will.”

  Later that night, with the luxury of a morning of free time to follow, they celebrated for a long, long time—until Pilar, breathless and writhing, her fingers tangled in Loup’s hair, begged her to stop. “Fuck! I’m serious, baby! Stop, you’ve gotta stop. I can’t take any more; you’re gonna give me a heart attack.”

  Loup slithered up the length of her body. “Good thing you’re in such awesome shape, huh?”

  “No shit.” Pilar closed her eyes, smiling. “And no fair. Give me a minute to catch my breath.”

  “Not tonight.” She trailed her fingertips along the soft, taut skin of Pilar’s inner thigh, higher and higher. “You’re the one who worked your ass off. This is your celebration.”

  Pilar’s eyes flew open. “You’re not gonna—” Her back arched, one hand scrabbling at the bedclothes. “Oh, shit!”