Spy High

by Diane Henders

  Well, freedom of religion. If it was important to him and everybody else at the commune, I should respect their beliefs even if I didn’t share them. And besides, his defense of them was reassuring. Maybe he didn’t mean them any harm.

  I swallowed my mouthful. “You’re right, Orion, I’m sorry. That was rude and disrespectful of me.”

  His stiffness melted into a smile that made me want to apologize again just to see that deliciously edible dimple one more time. “You’re forgiven, Storm. Thank you.” He reached across the table and squeezed my hand just as Skidmark wandered into the kitchen.

  In deference to the no-smoking-in-buildings rule, he wasn’t actually carrying a joint, but the heavy cloak of marijuana scent preceded him by several feet. His thicket of beard and moustache twitched in a smile at the sight of Orion’s and my clasped hands, and he wove unsteadily to our table.

  “Sweet love…” he warbled in a key entirely of his own making. “Sweet, sweet love…” He swayed and caught himself by gripping the edge of our table. One of his eyelids drooped in a lascivious wink. “If you kids’re gonna get it on, can I join in? Ol’ Skidmark knows a thing or two ‘bout lovin’…”

  Just in time to hear Skidmark’s overture, Ratboy strode into the kitchen and froze, glaring.

  Apparently Skidmark wasn’t as far gone as I’d thought. When my gaze snapped over to focus behind him he spun with surprising agility to face the threat, then staggered with the sudden movement. I jumped up and seized his shoulders, steadying him.

  Skidmark raised his voice in a tone that might have been dulcet if not for the rasp of too many decades of accumulated tar on his vocal cords. “Be cool, man,” he cooed at Ratboy. “You’re invited, too. You got such a nice tight little tushie. Tushie-wushie…” He squeezed the air with both hands as though fondling buttocks.

  Ratboy went rigid. Then his face twisted in rage and he closed the distance to Skidmark in a couple of fast strides. Orion sprang to intercept him, but Ratboy had already spat in Skidmark’s face.

  “Filth!” Ratboy hissed, and stormed out.

  “Aw, man…” Skidmark said plaintively. “You mean our date’s off?” He appropriated my napkin to wipe the spittle off his face before drifting away humming, apparently unfazed.

  I sank back into my chair and drew a deep breath, willing the tremors out of my hands.

  Filth. Was it coincidence Ratboy had used that particular word? If not, it imparted a whole new aura of menace to the words ‘get rid of the filth’.

  “Are you all right?” Orion bent to clasp my hands between his own.

  “Fine. I just… that scared me. That guy is seriously unbalanced.” I seized the opportunity. “Who is he?”

  “One of the renters.”

  I raised an eyebrow at him. “What’s a renter? Is that some Spirit-thing, too?”

  Orion laughed. “No, an actual renter. The commune has several acres of extra land they rent to various groups. That group has occupied the land for nearly a year.”

  “Why haven’t I noticed them before?”

  There was another layer to my innocent question. What the hell kind of secret agent was I, if an entire group of commune members had escaped my notice? How could I possibly have missed them in the nearly four months I’d been here? And if they were all as wacko as Ratboy, were they a threat to Moonbeam and Karma? And if Orion was friends with Ratboy…

  I realized Orion had spoken while I was berating myself, and I shook off my self-recriminations. “Sorry, what did you say?” I asked.

  “I said, they don’t usually interact at all. Their land is separated from the rest of the commune by the river, and they generally only come over here to pick up food supplies once a week and occasionally to use the vehicles to go into Port Renfrew.”

  “Oh. That makes sense, then. I saw Ratboy up at the garage-”

  Orion’s burst of laughter interrupted me. “Ratboy?” he choked when he had regained some composure. “I’m glad Moonbeam named me instead of letting you do it.”

  I shrugged, grinning. “Well, he’s a weaselly little prick and I didn’t know what else to call him.” I returned to my line of questioning. “Why don’t they just bring their own vehicles?”

  “Moonbeam and Karma don’t allow any vehicles except the commune’s. Visitors have to be dropped off here, or if someone’s making a supply run to town they can pick up visitors at the same time. Those are the only options.” His lips twisted in a wry grin. “You don’t want to count on the car or truck, though. They’re so old they break down constantly.”

  I frowned. “I don’t know; the truck sounded pretty good when it was running. Those old engines are nearly bullet-proof. And that big old boat of a station wagon probably has a decent engine in it, too. It’ll be a gas-guzzler, but it won’t be complicated. If Skidmark’s any kind of a mechanic he should be able to keep them running.”

  “Uh, one problem with that,” Orion said straight-faced. “Skidmark.”

  We both eyed the man in question as he shuffled toward the door. While Orion and I talked I had been watching Skidmark’s antics out of the corner of my eye, and he seemed to have offended almost everyone in the kitchen. Some of the commune members laughed him off but others reacted angrily, and dark looks followed him despite the commune’s stated policy of tolerance and harmony.

  “Maybe I should go up and have a look,” I said. “If Skidmark can’t manage the vehicle repairs, I could probably do them. It’d give me something to do.”

  Orion chuckled. “Don’t bother. Many have tried; none have succeeded. Skidmark will chase anyone away in short order. If his reek alone doesn’t do it, he’ll find some other way to offend you.”

  I rubbed a thoughtful circle over the frown lines in my forehead. “Yeah, I noticed he seems to like to stir the pot. But he just about boiled it over a few minutes ago with Ratboy.” I turned my frown to Orion. “What’s Ratboy’s real name, anyway?”

  Orion shrugged. “Nobody knows the renters’ real names, just like nobody knows ours here at the commune.” He shot me a mischievous grin. “Ratboy is good enough to go on with.”

  I held onto my best poker face. There was another expression that just wasn’t quite… Canadian. And if they were friendly enough to wander through the woods chatting, why would he pretend he didn’t know Ratboy?

  Well, screw Stemp’s orders; Orion had engaged me, not the other way around. I might as well take advantage of it.

  “Hey, Orion, speaking of anonymity and all those good things, if you really want to…” I cleared my throat significantly. “…get to know me better… maybe we could do some basic hi-how-are-you stuff before we jump in the sack. I’ve noticed you sound British. Where are you from?”

  If I hadn’t been watching him intently, I might have missed the flicker of his eyelids.

  “Oh, you have a good ear,” he said easily. “I grew up in Bristol, but I’ve been here in Canada for ages. What about you?”

  “Um, Saskatchewan,” I said vaguely. “So how is it that you arrived at the commune after me, but you know all its inner workings already?”

  A slight flush rose on his cheeks. “I asked,” he said with one of his devastating smiles, and rose. “It’s time for my shower. Do we know each other well enough yet?”

  I laughed. “Nope. See you later. I’ll try not to turn on the hot water for the washing machine at the exact moment you’re under the shower.”

  He offered me a shallow bow, his dark brows arching sardonically. “You are too kind.”

  I indulged myself by appreciating his rear view as he left. Then I propped my chin in my hand, pondering.

  He seemed so nice and normal compared to Ratboy. Why would they be friends? And if the renters kept to themselves, why would Ratboy associate with Orion at all?

  I sighed. I’d just have to keep watching them.

  Anyway, working on the commune vehicles sounded like an excellent idea. It would be good to have something to do; but more to the point, Skidmark�
��s garage was at the top of a hill with a commanding view. I should be able to observe the renters from there.

  And I wondered about Skidmark. When I’d grabbed his shoulders, his muscles had been tense and ready for action. He should have been a limp noodle if he had actually been as stoned as he appeared. And despite his bumbling and staggering, his tour of the kitchen had looked suspiciously purposeful.

  Not to mention the fact that I was pretty sure I’d overheard him utter a blatant anti-gay slur at the table next to us, almost immediately after he’d made his apparently homosexual advance on Ratboy.

  He was definitely stirring the pot, and not the cannabinoid variety.

  And if he was trying to cause trouble for Moonbeam and Karma, he just became my problem.

  Chapter 5

  It was still raining when I left the kitchen building. I growled and twitched up my sodden collar. Fine. Might as well check in with Stemp before I got dried off.

  Back in my tent I stood motionless, straining my ears. Stupid rain; I couldn’t hear a thing except raindrops pattering on canvas. I hadn’t seen anybody in the vicinity when I’d ducked inside, but I’d feel better if I knew nobody was coming up the path to catch me in the act.

  I blew out a short breath and squatted to delve into the canvas bag I’d concealed under a blanket behind my cot. My fingers groped past the concealing towels in the duffel and did a quick count by feel beneath. Only two secured phones left. Damn. Stemp had promised to send more and they were undoubtedly waiting for me at the post office in Port Renfrew, but I didn’t want to attract attention by requesting a trip.

  It was beginning to look as though I’d have to, though…

  The rustle of the tent flap made me jerk around to face the intruder, my hand flashing down to my holster. Then I let out a whoosh of adrenaline-laden amusement and extended my hand, palm down, fingers loosely curled. “Peaches, you little shit, you scared the hell out of me.”

  The heavily pregnant tortie-and-cream cat waddled over to rub her jaw against my knuckles, her whiskers turning up in a cat-grin.

  “You’re soaking wet, silly girl,” I chided, and dug a hand towel out of the bag to blot her fur. “Why don’t you stay in your nice dry cat house?”

  Her purr rumbled under the towel and I grinned. Like all the commune cats, she seemed unconcerned by rain and more than willing to brave the moisture in exchange for human attention. After some cuddles and extravagant purring, I stopped her when she began to nose with interest at the towels padding the cat-sized cave of my open duffel bag.

  “Sorry, Mom-To-Be.” I picked her up carefully, supporting her hind legs and drooping belly. “You can’t have your kittens in here. Go back to your nice warm cat house.” I bundled her gently outside the tent again, using her as an excuse to make sure the coast was clear before securing my tent flap despite my guilt at putting a pregnant cat out in the rain.

  But dammit, I couldn’t shut her inside my tent while I was gone. The commune cats felt the same way about captivity as I did. And anyway, she’d walked all the way over here, so she obviously wasn’t worried about getting wet. She’d just go back to the cat house in the main building, where she’d be warmer and dryer than I was.

  I exchanged my soaked jacket for a more waterproof version and slipped one of the phones into my pocket before zipping up the duffel and stowing it under the cot again. Rising with a deep breath when my knees protested the damp cold, I pulled up my hood to saunter out into goddamn rain again, trying to look nonchalant.

  My heart gave a guilty clutch when Orion emerged from his tent just a few yards down the path, and I willed my face into an innocent expression.

  He offered me a jaunty salute with his towel. “Last chance.”

  “No thanks, I’m going for a walk. I need some, um… meditation time.”

  His brows drew together in concern. “You still look half-frozen. Why don’t you get warmed up first? Maybe the rain will stop later, and if you wait a bit I can come with you. There’s a cougar in the area, so Karma and Moonbeam want everybody to pair up.”

  Great, just great.

  I forced a smile. “I’m not going far. And I’d rather go now while I’m wet anyway. I’ll get dried off and warmed up when I can stay that way for a while.” I made shooing motions. “Hurry up, or you’ll miss your shower. See you later.”

  I was turning to leave when he snapped, “Wait!”

  Startled by his tone, I spun. “What?”

  “Where’s your bracelet?”

  “My br…?” I frowned at the empty spot on my wrist where it had been only moments before. Comprehension dawned. “Oh, it must have slid off when I was digging in one of my bags. I’ll find it later. See you.”

  I made another attempt to leave but he blocked my way, his green eyes darkening with worry. “No, go back and find it right now.”

  “I’ll get it later,” I repeated through teeth that had clenched despite my best efforts.

  “No, you need it.” Orion peered earnestly into my eyes. “It gives us the protection of the Earth Spirit. Nobody can go without it.” He pushed up his sleeve to display his own. “Surely Moonbeam and Karma told you that.”

  “Oh, for…” I bit off my impending epithet and plastered a smile on my face instead. “Yes, of course. Thanks for reminding me. I’ll go and get it right now.”

  I turned, nearly tripping over Peaches as she wound around my ankles, and ducked back into my tent. Successfully resisting the urge to kick the stacked wooden boxes that served as my shelving unit, I dropped to my knees and shoved my hand back into the duffel to retrieve the stupid bracelet. Its hemp cord had broken, and I rose scowling at it just as Peaches padded in again and made a beeline for the bag. Outside, Orion scratched lightly at my tent flap, the commune’s version of a knock.

  I scooped Peaches up and shot a hurried glance at my cot to be sure the phone bag was completely concealed before saying, “Come in.”

  Orion pushed through the tent flap, his eyes anxious. “Did you find it?” His shoulders relaxed at the sight of the chunky wooden beads in my hand. “Oh, good. Put it on, then.”

  “It’s broken. I’ll fix it later.” I showed him the frayed cord.

  “No, I’ll help you now. Here, hold out your wrist.”

  Resigned, I shifted Peaches to my other arm and obeyed.

  Orion knotted the cord carefully, his brow furrowed with concentration. “There.” He gave me that irresistible dimpled smile again, his fingertips caressing my wrist. The feather-light touch ignited nerves all the way up my arm and his voice deepened as he stepped closer. “How does that feel?”

  Somehow I suspected he didn’t mean the bracelet.

  I gulped at the dryness in my throat. “Um… it’s a little…” I swallowed again. “…constricting,” I finished, and stepped back. “You’d better hurry. Your shower time is almost used up. And if there’s a cougar around, you should take Peaches back to the main building with you.” I transferred her carefully into the crook of his arm and tucked the hand towel around her.

  He looked nonplussed for only a moment before his smile returned. “You’re right. Enjoy your walk, and be careful. See you later.”

  He ducked out the tent flap and an involuntary sigh escaped me at the sight of that fine ass disappearing, unappreciated by my hands. Then I shook myself into duty mode and followed him out to hurry down the path before anybody else could accost me.

  Striding toward the main road, I unzipped my jacket and flapped it a few times. God, either I was starting to get hot flashes, or else Orion’s touch was enough to cause spontaneous human combustion. Tingly sensations in interesting areas of my body strongly suggested it was the latter.

  Just my luck. Only I would get assigned to watch the hottest guy in the whole commune, but be forbidden to do anything more than that.

  Hell, after four months of abstinence I was almost ready to reconsider the other men at the commune, and they were nothing to write home about. Nichele’s crack about s
kinny granola-fed guys was a little too close to the truth. Some women might go for those fragile artsy-looking types, but my tastes ran more toward hard muscle and bulk. Like Kane and Hellhound…

  Or Orion.

  Yanking my wayward mind back to the job at hand with a sigh, I cast a casual glance around me as though enjoying the rainy landscape. In all the times I’d reported to Stemp I’d never met anybody else walking along the road to town, and nearly twenty minutes of brisk hiking had carried me far beyond where I might be accidentally overheard. But by now my paranoia had become ingrained. Funny how a year of dicing with death could do that.

  My visual survey returned nothing more threatening than the usual dripping trees and ferns, and I pulled out my secured phone and pressed the speed dial.

  “Stemp.” He answered on the first ring as always, his crisp diction a welcome change from the drowsy tones of the commune’s residents.

  “It’s Aydan.” Neither expecting nor receiving a greeting, I launched into my report. “I’ve noticed a couple of things this week, and I’m not sure how relevant they might be. Orion Moonjava has started paying unusual attention to me, so I played along and asked a couple of questions.”

  I paused, expecting censure, but Stemp’s silence encouraged me to continue, “I mentioned his accent and asked where he was from, and he seemed…” I fell silent again, recalling his response and trying to quantify it. “He seemed… uncomfortable. As if he’d been trying to hide it. I don’t know why he’d do that; lots of people have British accents here on the coast. You know, ‘British Columbia’ and all…”

  Stemp didn’t respond to my attempt at humour, so I went on, “Anyway, it just seemed odd. And then he seemed evasive when I asked him how he knew so much about the commune. But that might have been my imagination; it would be normal for him to want to know everything about it since he’s so deep into this bizarro Earth Spirit thing…”

  I bit off my words too late. Damn, Karma and Moonbeam were the high priest and priestess of the bizarro Earth Spirit thing. Nothing like insulting your boss’s parents.