The Agency, Volume II

by Sylvan, Dianne

  The long-haired Elf looked down at Kaeli with disgust. "I have a name for you," she spat. "Traitor."

  Rowan held out a hand to her, and Sedna all but fell beside him, weeping. Her fine robes were bloody and torn, her face a mottled mess of bruises. She pulled up the hem of her outer robe and used it to wipe the blood from his face.

  "Sedna…" he touched her shoulder weakly. "Go outside and find Elora. Take her to the van. Don’t let her come back in here. She's already seen too much. Then look in the van or on the bodies and find a phone. Give it to Elora; she knows what to do."

  "Yes." She pushed herself back to her feet and ran out the door, calling the child's name.

  He drifted in the between-space, pain fading into a haze that was so intense he could hardly even claim it as his own. At long last he heard the sound of approaching sirens, and smiled as he finally let himself fall into the sweet arms of oblivion.

  Part Thirteen

  Déjà vu.

  Jason stood watching the monitors flicker, listening to the whoosh of oxygen and the beep of the blood pressure indicator.

  He wasn't alone, this time; Beck, Sara, Ness, Ardeth, and Elora were all with him, all of them trying not to crowd him but wanting to get close enough to see that Rowan was still alive.

  It was a little hard to believe, at least for them. He had known the second he felt the Elf's suffering a hundred miles away that Rowan would be saved. He hadn't allowed any other thought to even touch him.

  A hand, small and so fragile, took his and squeezed. He looked at Elora. The child was healthy and unhurt, but the horrors she had seen might still tell on her; she had cried and cried, for hours, in her father's arms, all the way back to the base and then in the safety of Rowan's suite.

  The other Elf, Sedna, had retreated to a private room for the time being, allowing the doctors to tend her but barely speaking. Ardeth had offered to take her back with him to Clan Willow, and Ness had assured the traumatized woman that the Agency would use its resources to find Clan Yew and rescue her son from its depravity.

  "He's going to be okay," Elora told Jason.

  "I know." He squeezed her hand back.

  Ardeth swung the girl up into his arms, and she giggled. "I have you and your Agency to thank for my daughter's life," he said. "And especially our sleeping friend. I hope one day I can repay you, if there is ever anything I can do."

  Jason smiled a little. "When will you return to your Clan?"

  "The physicians here wish to keep an eye on Elora and Sedna for a few more days. I have no complaints; the food is excellent and the weather outside is frightful. There is talk of snow, and a rumor that such a thing is a sign of the Apocalypse."

  "You should definitely stay, then. We have protocols in place in the event of an Apocalypse."

  Beck appeared at his elbow and hugged him around the waist with one arm. "I have her," she said. "Do you want me to get everyone out of here for you?"

  He looked around the infirmary at the tired, careworn faces. There were no other patients, just those keeping vigil over Rowan, and Dr. Nava, always nearby. "No. It's all right."

  She was surprised, but said nothing, ushering everyone back a little, pulling up a chair or two. "Everybody be quiet," she said. "Sit down."

  There were several looks of confusion, but Beck gave them The Eyebrow and nobody asked questions.

  He let his eyes come to rest on the Elf in the bed, moving over him slowly, visually drinking in every inch. Rowan looked like hell, but he was alive; he had nearly died from neural shock, but he was alive; Dr. Nava had cut another implant out of his wrist, but he was alive; he'd killed three of his own people and had his daughter die in the act of trying to kill him, but he was alive.

  Dr. Nava and Dr. Cunningham were both predicting a long road ahead of post-traumatic stress and depression. They had tried to prepare him for the worst; this time it might be even harder for Rowan to recover, emotionally, and it would take Jason's help for Rowan to heal.

  They had no idea just how right they were.

  Almost solemnly, Beck opened the case in her hands, and held out the Tempest.

  He nodded to her and lifted the violin; behind him, he heard someone make an astonished noise. Sara. He held back a laugh—of course she knew.

  His gaze still on his beloved, he smiled again, and began to play.

  *****

  On an icy night three days before year’s end, Jason opened the door in time to hear Alton Brown say something about the Pennsylvania Dutch bringing donuts to America.

  He ignored the show and paused to watch, for a moment, the Elf asleep on the couch, reclining partway into a pile of pillows and a thick fleece blanket. The remote was still in his outstretched hand, and the blue light from the TV picked out the faint edges of the scar on his wrist—the old one. The second implant, on the other arm, had left no trace of its brief existence. Jason had seen to that.

  He had seen to it, and done away with as much of the nerve damage as he could, erasing as much of the evidence of Rowan's ordeal as possible. It had been…effortless, even pleasurable, an offering. He hadn't felt that way about music since Fox had been so violently taken from him, so long ago. And when he was finished, the faces around him were all wet with tears, and Dr. Nava tried to drag him to the lab to analyze what he'd done. Jason had met Ness's eyes and flatly refused. Once, he might have given everything to the Agency. No more. There were some things he intended to keep.

  Rowan's eyes opened, and he smiled sleepily. "How was work, darling?"

  "Pretty uneventful for a change." Jason set the two wooden boxes he was carrying on the coffee table, took off his jacket and hung it by the door, then went to kneel in front of the couch, taking the remote from Rowan's hand and switching off the TV. "It's so damned cold outside even the demons are staying in."

  "How's Sara handling it?"

  "Bitching all the while. But getting used to it. How was your evening?"

  A yawn. "Good. We’re making refinements on the inhibitor.”

  Jason frowned. “You didn’t overextend yourself, did you?”

  “No, no. Very elementary stuff, just testing the signal response. I’m not cleared for anything more than that until January 5, and I’ve got the wrath of Dr. Nava, you, Ness, Sara, and at least three Elves to contend with if I push myself too hard. But still…I got tired after an hour, so I had some soup and came back here to rest.”

  Jason leaned over and kissed his forehead. “Good. Did you need any meds tonight?”

  “Not so far. I’m kind of achy, so just to be safe I took half a pill. It seems to be doing the trick.”

  This time, Jason kissed his lips, slowly and deeply. The Elf made a purring sound and wrapped a hand around Jason’s neck, and for a moment he knew the Elf’s pain was forgotten, soothed away by warmth that could easily tumble into passion if it hadn’t been so obvious how weak Rowan was. Jason drew back, smiling into his eyes.

  Rowan kissed his nose and said, “I spoke to Ardeth earlier. Elora's on Goblet of Fire already, and they're thinking of relocating Clan Willow to Texas."

  "I'm sure Elora would like that." They switched between Elvish and English freely in conversation now, and Jason had to admit he liked the language; he liked that it had so many terms for sex, for example, and even more for love. Its musical vocabulary was vast and poetic. Elora had been right—English sounded like someone had clipped off the last syllable of every word, in comparison.

  "He also asked me to ask you if your package arrived," Rowan went on. He inclined his head toward the boxes Jason had brought home with him. "Is that it?"

  "Oh…yes." Jason held up the larger of the two, a long, flat hinged box with a leaf-shaped clasp. "Ardeth is a metalsmith, as you know, but all his tools were destroyed with his Clan. I offered to pay to replace them all if he would make something for me."

  "Oh? What?"

  He opened the box and showed Rowan, whose eyes widened. "That's beautiful."

  "Beck loved Ardeth
's, and I was having a hard time coming up with an anniversary gift for her."

  Rowan chuckled, running a finger lightly along the non-bladed edge of the curved knife. "I still can't believe you two celebrate that—especially given that you were turned a week before she was.”

  “It’s symbolic, more than anything. We split the difference and settled on New Year’s Day.”

  “Didn't you run out of ideas after the first hundred?"

  He shrugged. "Usually it's not a big gift, just a little something one of us heard the other say she wanted. This year she splurged and got us all tickets to see Stella Blue at Austin Music Hall."

  "That's lovely of her. I'll have to think of something to get her, now."

  "I'd recommend a new chess set. She gave hers to Elora."

  "That girl really does have a sweet streak a mile wide," Rowan commented.

  "If you tell anyone she'll kick you in the balls."

  "Oh, I know. I won't tell a soul."

  Jason closed the box with Beck's knife and set it aside, and Rowan saw the second box beneath it, smaller and square. "What's that?"

  Jason picked it up, suddenly a little nervous. "I was going to wait, but…while you were still in the infirmary, before he and Elora left, I talked to Ardeth about the band on his wrist. He said the tradition is that the couple each has a bracelet inscribed with the other's name, to symbolize their bond to one another so that wherever they go, and whoever else they may spend time with, they remember their home is with that one person. Not exclusivity, just commitment. Marriage for the slightly slutty, I suppose."

  Rowan smacked him on the arm. "So what's in the box?"

  "Well, I…" Jason hadn't really planned this part; he'd been hoping that Rowan wouldn't notice the box just yet and he'd have more time to get his wits together. But since when had anything in their lives gone according to plan?

  He put his hand on the lid. "The Agency isn't a Clan," he said, lowering his voice. "That means we don't have a Blessing Tree…but I thought the live oak beyond the labyrinth might do, if…" He opened the box, letting the light catch what lay within it, and Rowan gasped. "If you would stand with me beneath it, under the next Full Moon."

  Tears were already falling from the Elf's darkened silver eyes as he picked up one of the two bracelets in the box with wondering, shaking hands. Both were exquisitely worked in near-indestructible Elven silver, made to fit flat against the wrist, seamless once closed, without a catch to snag on anything. Each band was carved in the lyrical Elvish alphabet, spelling out the Elf's name on one, the vampire's on the other. The band that bore Rowan's name was ornamented with leaves. The one with Jason's name had a long, sinuous design that, when looked at from the right angle, became the shape of a violin.

  They were every bit as perfect as Ardeth had promised—and he had crafted the alloy himself, guaranteeing it would last at least five centuries if not more. Things made by immortals were made to survive.

  "Jason," Rowan said, barely above a whisper, “Are you sure you want this? It's not because of what anyone said, or just because I almost died? Do you really want to commit yourself to me like this?"

  Jason looked down into the box and smiled. "Rowan…I already have. Haven't you noticed? You have had my heart for nearly ten years, my body for five months, and everything else…I'm yours, my Elf, completely, for as long as you can stand me. Ist amoraes thai, amori."

  Rowan was silent for a long time, so long that Jason was afraid he'd made a terrible mistake, but then Rowan said, very softly, "Well then…I only know one answer to give. Yes. I will stand with you beneath the Blessing Tree, under the next Full Moon, and there I will bind my heart to yours for as long as love shall last between us."

  It had been years, over a hundred of them, since Jason had last known such pure, unvarnished joy. It was such a strange feeling that it hurt, and he had to bury his face in the Elf’s neck to hide any semblance of tears. Rowan’s arms surrounded him, and they held onto each other for a long time.

  “Take me to bed?” Rowan asked sweetly, kissing the palm of each of Jason’s hands.

  “Doctor’s orders,” he started to say, but the Elf cut him off gently.

  “No, to sleep…although Monday can’t come fast enough, in my opinion. At this point I’d risk going into a coma for that thing you do with your tongue.”

  Chuckling, Jason lifted him up off the couch and carried him to bed. Were they going to end up living together, he wondered? The Agency did have larger quarters for couples and families. They’d cross that bridge eventually, he figured, drawing the covers up around the Elf, whose hands were busy unbuttoning Jason’s shirt. Rowan’s nimble fingers parted the fabric and traced lines down Jason’s chest, sending shivers through him. It had been…well, far too long…since they’d had sex, and it was only in the last couple of days that Rowan had felt well enough to even bring the subject up.

  Rowan’s nails dragged lightly down Jason’s upper arms, and Jason groaned. “That’s not fair.”

  “I know.” The Elf’s eyes glinted, one hand continuing its circuit around Jason’s torso, the other dipping down to slide partway under his belt. “I’m depraved, remember? A wicked blasphemer condemned by my carnal perversion.”

  “God, I love it when you talk like a Catholic.” Jason kissed him hard, unable to fight the need any longer, hips pinning Rowan’s to the bed. “Allow me to absolve you from your sins…”

  Rowan was laughing—they both were. “Not until we’ve committed a few more. Now take your pants off and get in this bed.”

  “We really shouldn’t do this—“

  “Why, because then I can’t wear white at the wedding?”

  “I was thinking more about you being unable to handle the energy overload and passing out, and Dr. Nava coming in here and giving me another ‘I’m pretending you’re not naked while I yell at you’ lecture. I’ll bet that woman has a huge gay porn collection. You know how straight women are about boys getting it on--”

  Rowan put a hand over Jason’s mouth and met his eyes, still smiling though his tone was serious. “I love you. Very much. And even with all of this…madness…I’m happier with you than I’ve ever been.”

  “So am I.” Jason drew him close.

  “Would…would you play for me tonight, culisen? I’m starting to hurt a little more, and I’d love to fall asleep to the sound of the Tempest.”

  “Absolutely, amori, you need only ask.” He planted one more kiss on the Elf’s temple and rose from the bed. As he fetched the violin from the table nearby, he said over his shoulder to the Elf, “Do you know how I know this is true love?”

  Rowan, snuggling deeper into the blankets, shook his head. “How?”

  “Because I haven’t once wanted to smack you in the head for calling me your little mosquito.”

  The Elf laughed merrily and settled in to listen, and twenty minutes later he was still smiling as he drifted off peacefully to sleep with a net of healing melody woven around him, cradling him safe and warm like his lover’s arms.

  Anywhere He Wants

  Transcript from Special Budgetary Review, May 27

  Conducted at the Shadow Agency base of operations, Austin, Texas

  In attendance:

  JEFFREY MECHLING, CPA, Financial Officer, Shadow Agency, Washington, D.C.

  JANICE RETZINGER, Accounting Assistant, Shadow Agency, Washington, D.C.

  VANESSA MACMILLAN, Director, Shadow Agency, Texas branch

  JASON ADAMS, Shadow Agent 7, Shadow Agency, Texas branch

  JEFFREY MECHLING, CPA (JM): All right, let's begin. This is a special budgetary review of the expenses incurred by Shadow Agent 7, Texas branch, Jason Adams. Agent...I'm sorry, am I boring you?

  JASON ADAMS (SA-7): Yes.

  JM: You do understand the necessity of this review?

  SA-7: Not at all. And I have plans to have several hours of mind-blowing sex with my partner in an hour, so if you wouldn't mind getting on with it?

  (Pause)<
br />
  JM: Agent Adams, according to our review, you go through nearly twice as much ammunition as any other employee of the Shadow Agency. Do you have any insight as to why that might be?

  SA-7: I shoot more things.

  JM: Yes...well, er...could you be more specific?

  SA-7: I patrol twice as much as anyone else in the branch. I’m faster, stronger, and have better senses, ergo I apprehend twice as many suspects.

  JM: And can you tell me why you so rarely bring any suspects back alive?

  SA-7: I guarantee you, Mr. Mechling, jailing a Shurazcho demon would cost the taxpayers a great deal more than a bullet. They eat babies, after all, and as I understand it the going rate on babies is at least twenty grand.