Adornments of Glory

by J. Crispin-Ripley

  "Last night you paused to wait for an answer. This time you didn't."

  "Sorry, I won't do it again."

  Roger wasn't sure if she meant she wouldn't forget to pause, or wouldn't try and con him. Despite what she thought, he wasn't young enough to ask that question. "Apology accepted. And now we should get going."

  "We never should have stopped." Sian glanced around. "Fortunately, our mistake hasn't proven to be fatal."

  He'd forgotten there might be werewolves hunting them. From the sudden alarm on her face, so had Sian. It was probably that the girl they'd seen in the train station had seemed so innocuous. But Sian did too, and wasn't.

  Sian didn't say anything more until they were outside the police station. "You think you won that one, don't you?"

  He didn't, not really, but it was clear what answer she wanted. "Yes."

  "Like I said, you may be too young for me. Love isn't a competitive sport, Roger. Or, if it is, we're teammates. Grow up."

  What she hadn't told Roger was that any team needed a leader. That was her, no doubt about it. Roger's assorted stellar qualities didn't include the ability to be decisive--too much self-doubt. Rule one in life was that when you act like you know what you're doing, people believe in you. She threw her shoulders back and marched into the station, straight to the front desk.

  "Hi, Bill. You've got the paperwork?" she asked the sergeant.

  "Good morning, Lieutenant Jones. No, ma'am... the Chief has it. He said you should go up in as soon as you showed."

  "Right. Come along, Roger." As Ishtar would say... damn.

  The too-familiar head lifted as she opened the door. "Jones, hate to do this... you're suspended. Your badge and gun." The Chief held out a heavy hand.

  The old man had watched too many bad cop movies. Sian knew better than to make that comment aloud. "Sir." She dug her badge out of her purse. "I never was issued a gun. May I ask what this is about?"

  "Budget cuts. Things are tight. But you know that." He opened a drawer, dropped her badge into it and slammed it shut. "I'm not happy about this either. Union insists all non-union personnel go first."

  "I'm actually being fired, not suspended?"

  "The stuff from your desk's at the front. Sorry." He stood and thrust his hand out to be shaken. "All the best."

  "What... oof...." An elbow in his ribs cut Roger's question short. Sian took the Chief's hand. "It's been an honour to serve under you, sir." Budget cuts? Not likely.

  "We'll mail your discharge, Jones." He dropped her hand. "Good-bye."

  "Good-bye, sir." She turned and walked out. Roger followed without a word, bless him. Her coffee cup, the only personal item she'd kept in her office, and a copy of Roger's file--marked 'closed'--were waiting for her at the front. "See you around, Bill."

  "Jones." He didn't meet her eyes. As she walked out she could feel him taking one last, longing look at her ass. That was all of her he'd miss--all most of the guys on the force would. She'd refused to date anyone from work but always wore tight pants. They'd never mistaken her for one of the boys.

  "Can I talk now?" Roger asked when they reached the sidewalk.

  "All you want. Could you hug me first?" Strong and comforting arms went around her. "I hadn't expected that," she continued into his shoulder. It was such a delight being with a man taller than her. Roger was such a big teddy bear--and she'd have to work on that, at his age he shouldn't be running to flab. "No, that's not true... I hadn't expected that today. Support on the police board for my position has always been iffy."

  Roger's hand wandered down her back to cup a buttock. A big hand--she liked that--and his lovely penis, hard against her stomach... yum! Grams was right, young men were the best... always ready. She tilted her head up for a kiss. His tongue twisted with hers, then explored the side of her mouth. She pressed tighter against him. He started to shudder.

  She decreased the pressure and pulled away. They would have to work on his control... later. This wasn't the time or the place.

  "You're right," Roger said, shaking his head. "We just did it again." He stepped back from her. His eyes flickered up and down the street.

  Should she admit she'd forgotten the danger they were in? No. It would only scare him more. "We'd better get back to my place."

  "Maybe we should take a cab."

  "It'll take longer to get one than to walk."

  "There's one at the end of the street." He stepped to the curb and waved his arm. "You might to have to take charge when we get there... good, he's seen me." He quit waving and reached for her hand. "Susan and Rabid aren't leader types any more than I am," he continued, "and Feldspar and Ishtar are both in shock."

  "True." She'd seen that, but hadn't drawn the obvious conclusion. "That's probably why I got fired. It was fate. Or maybe Grams set it up."

  "Fate? Grams, wherever she is? More likely Linda Bedarova, or Delbert Throne, when I think of it... he's the one with local clout."

  Sian shook her head. "Not that much. The Noronto police force isn't in anyone's pay."

  "Not even the taxpayers'." Roger answered, with a laugh. So young, and so cynical... he wasn't right about that, but it wasn't worth arguing. But Delbert Throne? Could it be?

  The taxi pulled up beside them and Roger opened the door. They got in and she gave the driver her address. "I know it's not far. I'll give you a good tip."

  "And I'll be thanking you for it. Pardon me, but I have seen you often coming and going from this station. You are being police?" He glanced in the mirror and made a wild u-turn.

  "Yes," she answered, before remembering she wasn't, not any more.

  "Well then. If I may be asking, are you knowing anything about the shooting?" Said accelerating through a yellow light.

  "No. Who's been shot?"

  "Some reporter lady is the rumour." The taxi screeched to a halt in front of her building.

  Barb. "No, I don't know anything about that."

  "If you'll pardon me, I'm not so sure about this. From the way your voice is sounding, I think maybe you do. Four twenty, please."

  "I think maybe I do as well. Thank you." She gave him a twenty as she got out. "Keep the change."

  "Thank you so much. And have a nice day."

  * * * * *

  Ishtar hadn't taken the news well. She didn't want to be Belinda's daughter. Feldspar knew the feeling well and while she still wasn't sure she believed it true--changelings might be a staple of legend, but could she and Ishtar have been switched before birth? Okay, as Sian'd said, it wasn't impossible. But if so, why? A cosmic joke, or some better reason? Had to admit that on the face of it, so to speak, it seemed likely... Ishtar's face was pale verging on translucent, like Belinda's and while not jet-black, hers was like the rest of her body, was noticeably dusky.

  "Fairies danced at my birth," Feldspar said, thinking aloud.

  "Damn little balls of flying puke... so what?"

  "They switched us in the womb? Or after?"

  "Who gives a damn when it was done? I'm the bitch's damn daughter. I accept that--it's as obvious as the big honker of a nose on your face. Hers is button sized, like mine... looks better on me though... I'm pissed because I can't see how we missed it all these years."

  "We're not the only ones," Feldspar said. "Belinda didn't see it either and she's at least as upset."

  "Yes, the way she ripped that chandelier from the ceiling seems rather a broad hint to her feelings," Rabid said, leaving off pestering Susan... to her evident relief. "We should take advantage. Kick her while she's down. Push her over the brink. Kill her before she kills us."

  "Bloodthirsty all of a sudden, aren't you, elf? But you're talking my language. What are we doing hanging around here? Let's go." Ishtar started for the door.

  Feldspar grabbed her. "No."

  Ishtar jerked to a stop. "Why not? By the damn gods, why not?"

  "I've said it before. We're not here to destroy Belinda. We're here to recover the Adornments."

  "And she does
n't have the damn things."

  "Exactly."

  "And if she's dead, she never will. Damn you, Feldspar, can't you see she's the brains behind the damn theft? Take her out and the rest will crumble."

  "Maybe."

  "And maybe not."

  Rabid nodded. "If Hilldweller is involved, she could be the brains. We should get rid of Belinda anyway... she's just a complication."

  "You think this is Hilldweller's doing?" Ishtar obviously hadn't considered that possibility.

  Feldspar doubted Hilldweller responsible for anything smacking of evil--it didn't fit what she knew of the woman--but if debating that theory could keep Ishtar from rushing off, she was all for it being considered. She kept a firm hold on Ishtar's arm. "Let's sit down and think this over."

  Rabid grabbed Ishtar's other hand and tugged. "After Belinda, we're going to have to kill Hilldweller, but first things first... let's go get Belinda."

  "You seem obsessed with her." From the couch, Susan's quiet voice entered the fray. "It didn't bother me last night, but don't think I didn't hear you moan Belinda's name." What was Susan talking about? Rabid and Belinda? It couldn't be, could it? Planetsinger would have warned them if Rabid was Belinda's agent... wouldn't she? Maybe she'd been about to when they ticked her off regarding Shimmerscribe? And wasn't it Rabid who'd incited that? As she remembered, it was... and he was calling out Belinda's name when he came? She let Ishtar's arm go and took a step towards Rabid.

  He glanced at her before directing his entire attention to Susan. "Sorry, love, I didn't think you'd heard. That name would have been 'Melinda.' Friend of mine. We grew up together. Taught each other everything." Rabid released Ishtar's arm and hurriedly went back to beside Susan. "Sorry," he repeated, running a hand up her thigh. "I'll make proper apologies later."

  "No need... I told you it didn't bother me." Susan stopped Rabid's hand short of its target and removed it from her leg. "And quit trying to distract me. Why don't you tell us all about this 'Melinda?'"

  Ishtar snorted. "Please... don't. I'm horny enough as it is, without him detailing past conquests. You're right though, Feldspar... recycling anyone has to be a secondary pleasure... getting those damn Adornments back home is what matters. Soon as we do, I'm going to find paradise by screwing my brains out."

  "What would happen if you broke your vow?" Susan slapped Rabid's hand as it started up her leg a second time. "Look you... I said 'no.'" She stood, her eyes on Ishtar. "What was it you swore to... exactly?"

  "I didn't swear to a damn thing. It was her." Ishtar jabbed a finger at Feldspar.

  Feldspar searched backwards in her memory. Susan had asked an excellent question. "That I wouldn't share a pallet with anyone."

  "So if you did it standing up...." Susan's eyes held a clear proposition. Feldspar shivered--standing up could be good. Until now, she'd managed to keep the pull between herself and Susan at a distance. But after they completed the quest... or maybe standing up... in Sian's washroom?

  "Don't risk it." Rabid put an arm around Susan's slender waist. "Gods judge intent, not wording."

  She pried herself away from him yet again. "I wasn't talking to you."

  Ishtar sighed. "Now children... could we get back to figuring out how to find the damn Adornments?" Her eyes flickered past Susan and Rabid and on to Feldspar. "So, leader, what next? Let's get this done so we can get all hot and sticky."

  "If Delbert Throne has what you're looking for, you should go after him," Susan said. "Forget Linda Bedarova."

  Rabid shook his head in an emphatic 'no'. "I still say Belinda's the key. We have to kill her."

  "What do you mean 'we', elf boy? You're no damn use in a fight. Shit, judging from Susan's lack of enthusiasm today, you're close to useless in the sack as well. But don't you worry, someone's going to die today."

  Sizzling overhead--Feldspar hit the floor--two soft explosions. "What was that?"

  "Damn light bulbs."

  Feldspar rolled to a sit. The room was dimmer. The others were still on their feet.

  Rabid gave a uneasy laugh. "Almost fouled myself that time."

  "Like I said, you're useless." Ishtar offered Feldspar a hand. "Soul-sister, you're on the edge of your nerves. Still, I guess I better watch what I say."

  "That would be a first." Feldspar kept hold of Ishtar's hand after getting to her feet. "Anyway, I think it's too late. But I guess I'll accept you're the Prophesied now, not me."

  Ishtar's grin disappeared. "Bitch." She squeezed Feldspar's hand and let go.

  "What I mean is... you're the leader. If it's what you think we should do, when Sian and Roger get back, we go after Belinda." Or not. She evidently couldn't change Ishtar's mind, but maybe Sian would be able to get her to calm down and regain her focus.

  * * * * *

  On her return, Sian found a war council in her living room. Rabid and Ishtar wanted blood. Rabid--Belinda's... and Ishtar that of anyone at all it seemed. From her slumped posture, Feldspar had effectively stepped down as quest leader, and the party was becoming a rabble.

  Fine. First, get them back on track. "Are you on a quest for the Adornments of Glory, or Linda Bedarova's head?" She used the Terran name deliberately.

  "Both." Ishtar glared. "And that damn Spinecracker--I'm going to castrate him."

  Feldspar sat up. "Not if I get to him first. How dare he bed both of us and my... and your... and Belinda?"

  Sian gave them her best theatrical sigh. "So you are after blood, not the Adornments. Guess the other side wins."

  That got through to both Ishtar and Feldspar. But Rabid shook his head.

  "Both are important. We have to do both. We can... we've got six people," he added.

  As Ishtar would say--damn elf. Was he egging on the others? "And they've got how many? Eight? If we split up it'll be all the more likely we'll lose. Know what? It sounds like you've got your own agenda."

  "I think all three of our Diluvian friends have their own agenda," Susan said quietly. "They're all blinded by hatred or fear. Let me try out a theory on you. Belinda's been playing it straight all along. She didn't have anything to do with the theft of the Adornments and honestly thought you two girls insufficiently mature to be entrusted with the task of returning them. From all I've heard the past hour, I'd say if she felt that way about you, she had cause."

  Sian suppressed a laugh. Susan might be wrong about Belinda but, from their faces, she was right about Feldspar and Ishtar not having given that idea any thought.

  Susan turned her gaze on Rabid. "And as for you, I'm pretty sure I know exactly what's going on with you and if you approach me again, I'll pass my speculation on."

  Rabid bowed and backed away. That by-play went unremarked by the Diluvian females. They were staring at each other in horrified shock.

  "You know," Feldspar finally said. "It could have started that way."

  "Unlikely," Ishtar said. She turned to Susan. "But possible, I'll grant you that. It's not that way now. We couldn't ally with her against Delarone." She shrugged. "For one thing, rightly or wrongly, we're the sanctioned party and she's the interloper. For another, she wouldn't let us."

  "I wasn't suggesting anything of the sort," Susan answered. "Only that if you continue to pursue your quest fuelled by hatred and lust, you're going to fail. Fail absolutely and completely."

  "Fine, but I still want to kill Belinda," Ishtar said after a moment. The difference was, this time she said it with a grin.

  Sian relaxed. One crisis over, thanks to the unlikely intervention of Susan. "Could you fill us in on the rest of her party before you rush off and do that?" she asked. "Vlad and Brad, the werewolves, Spinecracker, the two dwarves?"

  "Especially the werewolves," Roger said. "I have a hard time believing the girl could be dangerous."

  "Sexist," Susan said with a laugh.

  "Don't know a thing about her," Ishtar said.

  "Except she's Caleb's daughter," Feldspar said. "And he and his wife Anna, the girl's mother, were two o
f the most dangerous criminals in recent Diluvian history. Between them, and with their pack, they probably ate several hundred sentients."

  "When they were in wolf form," Ishtar interjected.

  A nod from Feldspar. "Which neither of those are right now. It takes several nights for them to shift between modes. So all they are now are extraordinarily strong humans with lightning reflexes."

  "And intelligence," Ishtar said, taking up the explanation. "Werewolves were genetically engineered in a war seven hundred years back. Been around ever since. Most of them are decent sentients," she added, speaking to Roger. "So you could be right about the girl."