"Understood."
"So you're thinking about basically leaving a skeleton crew here."
"Well, that brings me to another point."
Storm looked at Sol for three seconds before saying, "Shit."
"Sir Storm. There is a child present."
Glen laughed, clearly entertained by being called a child and having someone object to the word 'shit' being spoken in front of him. He turned to Storm. "Yeah. Watch it!"
Storm wasn't deterred. "You're not leaving Jefferson to Z Team. I vote the biggest fucking no that has ever been cast anywhere, any time."
"Well, first, this is not a committee. And, second, Sir Hawking and Lady Laiken will still be here."
Storm gaped. "They. Are. Retired." Sol just smiled like a person keeping unsavory secrets. "Okay. You want to leave Team FuckUp in charge? I've got a better idea. Let's just evacuate and blow the place now. Baka's here and I don't know anybody better at demolition. Turn it over to him and put a 'gone fishing' sign on the door. It'll be cheaper and probably save everybody a lot of trouble."
"Exaggerating much?"
Storm turned to Glen. "What the man is saying is that, when his plan is in place and operational, the only thing that will be left standing between The Order's star installation and disaster, is you."
Glen looked from Storm to Sol, who smiled and shook his head. "You are overreacting. When did you get to be such a pu...wuss?"
"Right. And Marrakesh is the last stop before being immortalized in the Hall of Heroes." Storm turned to Glen. "It's the modern day equivalent of the French Foreign Legion."
Sol directed his attention to Glen. "He had a disagreement with Z Team years ago in... Was it Berlin?" Storm glared, but didn't confirm or deny. "I don't know what it was about, but Sir Storm doesn't think much of Zed Company."
"You wanted my input. Here it is. And mark my words. If you go through with implementing the plan you just outlined, you're going to regret it. Big time." Sol scowled and looked down at his coffee cup. "Plus. According to what you've just described as a plan for the new improved Jefferson Unit, you're not going to need someone with Glen's talent to act as your replacement. Any mid level bureaucrat would do."
Sol pinned Storm with an old familiar look of authority. "Flexibility is a qualification for the position. We may be downsizing here for the moment. But..." He flicked his gaze to Glen. "Could I have a moment alone with Sir Storm?"
Glen was nodding on his way up out of the chair. "Yes, sir."
When he closed the door, Sol continued. "You know I'm not a philosopher or a metaphysicist or a mystic or anything of the sort. It might even be argued that I'm not a particularly deep thinker. But one thing I pride myself on is my ability to keep my ear to the ground and know when to pay attention.
"There's a historical pattern of shifts in mass consciousness occurring in clusters, like an idea floating around in space that touches the minds of several people at the same time. People who are not connected by association or geography. It's particularly true in the area of advancing technologies."
Sol paused.
Storm shifted forward in his seat. "I've never known you to go off on irrelevant tangents before."
Sol looked up, but didn't smile. "I sincerely hope it does turn out to be irrelevant. Here's an example. Take almost any innovation or invention and you'll find an argument over who should get credit. That's because there were several people who did not know each other, in different locations, who seem to have come up with the same idea at the same time.
"Lots of stories about runs on the patent offices to record invention of a particular thing. The one who got it officially recorded first got historical bragging rights. That expression 'an idea whose time has come' has some basis in fact."
"I'm sure there must be a point and I'm just as sure you plan to get there someday."
"Elora Laiken plops out of the air right in front of us and lands on the floor as a pile of mush." The words and the resulting image made Storm wince visibly. "Fifteen months later she's attacked by people from her dimension who have perfected the same transport that tried to eat her alive. Two months after that we get proof that there are entities who can travel between dimensions at will.
"Fresh on the heels of that we're visited by a scout troop of real vampire on an interdimensional field trip. Add that to the fact that The Order's Psychic Department is warning about preparing for paranormal life as we know it to undergo an overhaul. We're on the interdimensional map now and we need to be preparing for everything from social mixers to invasions.
"We probably won't ever find a way to defend against visits from the species who slip dimensions naturally like demons and vampire, but we need to come up with some way fast to protect ourselves from the ones who use technology to slip dimensions."
Storm quietly absorbed that and then processed quickly, according to his typical modus operandi. "So the knight shuffle really is temporary while we gear up and re-outfit."
"Same page, Sir Storm. Took you long enough."
"Yeah. Well, you better make sure there's something left to come back to after you walk away and leave Z Team in the role of principal protectors."
Stalkson Grey attended the demon's workshop on seduction and intro to female anatomy. He waited until the classes were underway, then quietly slipped into the back. The young males seemed to be reacting with an interesting mix of anxiety, arousal, and impatience to get started looking for mates.
Deliverance was having such a good time teaching that he decided to also offer units on flirtation, male exhibitionism, multiple orgasms, and creative positions. His students were exemplary, perfectly attentive, and enthusiastically appreciative.
Stalkson was grateful to the demon for giving the young bloods a chance at finding happiness, but he wasn't crazy about the use of porn as visual aids. Having come to an agreement with Grey about what would be presented, the incubus had approval to demonstrate with videos that were explicit, but wholesome. The demon turned the sound off so that he could lecture alongside the imagery, and used a pen light to focus attention on details such as the proper laving of a nipple or stroking of a clitoris.
Every day was filled with the buzz of activity at Elk Mountain. The half of the tribe who were preparing to pioneer a new life were caught up in the excitement of adventure and transition. The other half tried to look happy for them while they were preparing to say painful goodbyes and see their way of life change forever.
The young males had their papers in order, along with instructions about how to behave in Shrifthet culture. The fact that the clock would start ticking down thirty days upon their arrival was surely a lot of pressure, but the demon had given them techniques to help manage and hide stress so that they always looked cool, confident, composed, and, most importantly, sexy.
Since Deliverance could take only one person at a time, the alpha was first transported so that he could be there and waiting for them at the other side of their first experience slipping dimensions. He personally greeted each one on Shrifthet and checked to make sure they had their visas and some walking-around money.
When all were assembled he went along to make sure they found their temporary living quarters. He wished each one good luck and assured them that he and the demon would be back every day to check on them. The king wasn't worried. He knew they had each other.
The plan to move all the tribe transplants was progressing as expected. The demon moved several families at a time, delivering them into the hands of the wolves who had volunteered to help them build and get settled on their own territory. Grey had chosen the land to the north and had run the boundaries of New Elk Mountain's fifty sectares as a wolf. To a werewolf it was glorious. Like something out of a dream.
The king and the demon returned to Shrifthet every day, as promised, to show support and hear reports. The suitors often had questions for Deliverance. The demon seemed to thrive on the attention and on the subject matter.
Afterward, on Tuesda
ys and Saturdays, the incubus stopped at Throenark to service the Vergins who desired a good body buffing. The first couple of times, Grey simply squatted in the shadows of the forest apron and watched, imitating stillness to perfection. Various women would emerge from the complex to walk or meditate alone or in pairs, or to tend the patches of red vervain.
On the third such occasion, the girl that haunted Grey's thoughts wandered through the garden pathways leisurely and alone. She was carrying a basket and a pair of garden shears. She stopped by one of the large patches of red vervain, snipped some stems, and placed them in her basket. He shadowed her, staying under cover of the forest, without ever making a sound. When she drifted close to the trees, he let her see him.
It was evident that she was startled, by the little jerk of tension in her body. She didn't squeak or squeal or even hiccup, but her copper-colored eyes did get wider. She took his measure quickly, but not so fast that he didn't notice the path of her gaze.
"What are you doing there?" She made it sound like an accusation.
"Looking at you." Stalkson had never practiced the art of seduction. He'd never been interested in a human so why would he have? But he wasn't worried. He knew there was always a basis of truth in myth and there had to be a good reason why wolves had an ancient and persistent reputation for seduction. He decided to relax and rely on what might be a dormant instinct.
"What's your name?" she demanded.
He smiled. She was haughty. He liked that. "Stalkson Grey. What's yours?"
She caught her breath when she saw the flames behind his eyes. They reached out and licked at her, singeing something inside in a deliciously pleasurable way. That look he was giving stirred feelings she'd never experienced. There was a nagging suspicion that the smart choice would be to run, but she ignored it and gave him her name instead.
"Rejuvenata."
"Mouthful." He was talking about her name, but as the word fell from his lips, his mind was replaying imagery from the demon's class on female anatomy.
"I was, ah, renamed when I was initiated." She had no idea why she was standing there talking to a strange man, no matter how fascinating he might be. The way his steely blue eyes caught light and shadow when he moved was mesmerizing and made it impossible to look away, much less run away.
"What was it before?"
"Luna."
The sound of that resonated to his very core. He said Luna with a little growl that sent a tremor up her body starting at her core and ending where her nipples beaded visibly against the red silk. His eyes flicked downward and back to her face.
"Luna what?"
"Just Luna. We give up family names when we enter into the service of vervain."
"Luna. Just Luna. Just perfect." He smiled. "I'm very partial to moonlight."
She had thought he was handsome before, but he had one of those sardonic smiles that transformed his face into a mask of wicked perfection promising delights beyond wildest dreams. Her certainty that she shouldn't be talking to this magnetic creature was growing stronger every minute.
When her eyes started to feel dry, she realized she hadn't blinked. Shaking her head a little she said, "Did you tell me your name?"
He laughed and she felt it ripple down the front of her body, caressing everywhere it touched. "Stalkson Grey."
"Oh, yes. You did tell me. Well, it was nice to meet you, Stalkson Grey."
He took a step toward her and it alarmed her enough that she took two steps back. He could see that she was skittish so he held very still. "Wait. Luna. Will you meet me here and talk to me again?"
She stared without answering for a few heartbeats. It could go either way. "Why?"
The innocence and wariness in her question made the predator inside Grey grin. "I liked talking to you. I'm here on Tuesdays and Saturdays at about this time. Will you come?"
"Maybe."
He looked as pleased as if she had given him three wishes and for some reason that, in turn, pleased her. She turned and walked away. Knowing that he was watching made her super aware of the movement of her hips and she was disgusted with herself for being self-conscious. Temple Vergins were not temptresses! They were healers! Still, she walked slowly enough to feel a graceful roll from side to side. What would her sisters think of that?
It was one thing to indulge in regular, healthy sexual exercise with Grannie's nephew. After all, how could a sexually frustrated healer heal? But it was something else to engage in a clandestine conversation with a strange man. The tingling sensation she was feeling about seeing him again was the exact reason why such things were discouraged. Strongly discouraged. She was supposed to focus on her vocation and not be distracted by a rendezvous with an irresistibly attractive man. Had she just said irresistibly?
When she had said 'maybe' to his question about whether or not she would meet him, she had known it was a lie. There was never a moment's doubt in her heart that she would meet him the next time he came. They would have to bind her with chains to keep her away.
Three days later she emerged from the dormitory to the rear of the temple, eyes searching the forest shadows. The wolf part of Stalkson's personality was triumphant. The human part was ecstatic. Watching the way her body moved as she approached was erotic in a way he'd never experienced and he wanted to pleasure that body in the ways the demon's classes had outlined.
The air was still in the dense part of the forest. As she watched his eyes roam over her slowly, she felt a trickle of perspiration run between her breasts and down her torso. Her breath made the tiniest hiss that would have been inaudible to human ears and her thighs clenched.
Since Stalkson Grey's ears were not entirely human, he had no trouble hearing that tiny hiss. In response his nostrils spread as she neared. He inhaled deeply and smiled.
During the following two weeks, Rejuvenata the Vergin, also known as Luna, and Stalkson Grey, both together and separately thought about little else than the next appointed time of meeting. Luna's sisters wondered why she seemed distracted. She was preoccupied during her healing rotation and absent from sign up for a turn with Deliverance on Tuesday and Saturday afternoons. To say that the Vergins were rarely absent on Tuesday and Saturday afternoons would be an understatement. Some of them lived from one of the demon's visits to the next.
Her closest friend, Sirenata, thought Luna was wearing a curious luminescent glow, but why should being visibly happy raise suspicion? They were supposed to be joyful in service to the Cult.
When Luna and Stalkson were together, they walked in the cover of the forest and, even though they were technically in the heart of a city, it sometimes felt as if they were alone. Grey hadn't realized he was lonely. He was never alone, in fact. He couldn't step outside his front door without being approached by someone who wanted or needed something. Luna didn't want or need a thing, but seemed happy to spend time with him for its own sake.
He wanted to know as much about Luna as she would share. She told him about how her parents had given her to the temple when she was five years old. She told him about her work with the Herb of Grace, about how she used it to cure ulcers, fevers, headaches, and rheumatism.
"So you like your work?"
She shrugged. "I never thought about it. I like making people feel better of course. I mean, you would have to be an awful person to not like that." She looked up at him to see if he agreed, but he said nothing.
He looked around. "Why is there never anyone here?"
"Here in the park?"
"Yes."
"We have two days to rejuvenate. On Tuesday and Saturday the park is ours and visitors, such as yourself..." She looked at him pointedly, "...are considered trespassers. The other five days of the week the park is crowded with people who come in need of many different kinds of healing. Some can be helped just by walking in the gardens and need nothing else to be better."
"Tell me about your family."
"We don't have relationships with our former families because it would interfere with
the work."
"You haven't seen them since you were five?"
She nodded, but didn't seem bothered by that fact. The reality of her strange existence had long ago become normal to her.
Grey said he had lived in a wilderness area all his life, that when he looked at the tall buildings of the skyline above the trees, that life struck him as the closest thing to the myth of an eternal pit of fire.
"Oh. I don't know," she said. "Maybe it wouldn't be so awful."
"Crammed together like socks in a drawer?"
She laughed. "Socks in a drawer?"
He looked down at her bare feet in sandals. She wore toe rings in gold and silver designs that curled like the Celtic art of his world. He thought that even her feet and toes were beautiful, smooth and well-proportioned.
"You don't have socks. Do you?"
She grinned and shook her head and they laughed together in a way that signaled an easy and effortless companionship. Once, she stumbled over a tree root. Grey reached out to steady her, but she jerked back her arm out of his reach and righted herself on her own.
"We're not to be touched by the hand of man."
He opened his mouth to tell her that he was not a man, but thought better of divulging that particular bit of information at that time. Luna always stayed until Grey looked at his watch and said he had to leave. She would say goodbye and confirm that she would come again with a smile so fetching it made his chest feel tight. Then he would pretend to leave, but watch her as she walked back alone.
Stalkson knew that Luna thought of the temple complex where she lived and worked as home. He, however, saw it as her prison where she'd been taken and enslaved as a baby. Every aspect of her life had been decided for her. Where she lived, what she did, when she did it, what she ate, what she wore, where she went, and whom she saw. She was able to read a limited selection of books from the library and watch preapproved television and movies about the lives of laypeople, but she wasn't given access to any other sort of communication technology.
Moonlight: The Big Bad Wolf (Black Swan 4) Page 18