The Gathering Storm

by Varna, Lucy

  “And we still have results to sort through.” Sigrid huffed out a sigh and eyed the folders scattered across the workbench. “Ok, let’s start with what’s in front of us.”

  They divided the remaining fifteen files between them and flipped through each one for the ethnicity report, the best way they had of determining which results belonged to Jaran. None matched, so they went to the workroom housing all of the remains from the museum and checked labels, sorted onto metal shelves running the length of the room.

  George located the box labeled “Jaran: Ganenda: ca. 732 BCE - 766 CE” and placed it on the small table near the room’s entrance, the only empty workspace in the room.

  Sigrid opened the box and examined the few bones comprising the remains mislabeled as Jaran’s. Age had painted a patina on the bones’ surfaces, staining them brown like an old sepia toned photograph. A chill ran down Sigrid’s spine. Could these be the remains of a Sister, or of a first generation Daughter? Was that even possible?

  She retrieved archival gloves from the pocket of her lab coat, tugged them on, and lifted the femur from the Styrofoam cushioning it from further damage.

  “What is it?” George asked.

  She glanced at him, startled. She’d almost forgotten he was there. “What is what?”

  “You got this funny look on your face.”

  “I don’t know why.”

  She shook the lie away. Yes, she did, and he deserved to hear what she was beginning to suspect. How to tell him, though?

  She carefully placed the femur back into its space and closed the lid. “I want these remains retested.”

  “But—”

  Sigrid held a hand up, cutting George off in mid protest. “I know you said you’ve already extracted what you could. Try again. Find a way.”

  His mouth slammed shut and his lips pressed together into a thin line. “Ok. I’ll see what I can dig up.”

  “In the meantime, let’s concentrate on getting the rest of the museum’s remains tested. We need to figure out which box contains the correct label for these bones, in case it contains additional information.” She placed a protective hand over the box, patted it gently. “I think we may have found another Sister.”

  George’s eyes went round in his face and he huffed out a laugh. “Holy shit.”

  “My thoughts exactly,” she said, and spent the remainder of the workday helping him and the rest of their team collect and test samples.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Over the next few days, Will scrambled to fulfill every obligation he’d undertaken. He began by wrangling his sister into helping find housing for the newest residents of Tellowee, something she was in a better position to do given her front-end work at The Omega. As the head waitress and the assistant manager, she knew who was coming and going as well as Will did, and kept her ear to the ground for the undercurrents of town gossip, a habit she could put to good use now.

  Together, Will and Casey hashed out wording for a help wanted flyer to be posted on the bulletin board nailed to the building’s exterior, next to the entrance. While they were at it, they crafted a want ad for the local paper, a Plan B in case nobody in Tellowee needed a job. Hiring outside of the People was risky at best, especially when so many unfamiliar Daughters were streaming into town from parts of the world where Western culture was an unknown. The last thing he needed was for a local man to hit on a Daughter and end up dead, or worse, married to her in the way of the People.

  Rebecca would have a field day explaining that one to the man’s family.

  Within a day of posting the flier, a couple of out of town Daughters applied for positions. Will left interviewing to Casey, with the permanent staff’s input on a part-time bartender and another part-time cook, while Will took a day rummaging through Robert’s research files and catching himself up on the status of the most important tasks.

  By the end of the week, he was beat. Sigrid came in to The Omega every night like clockwork and stayed for an hour between the end of her workday and the beginning of her training. He snuck in kisses where he could and even managed half a dance with her before a squabble at the other end of the bar called him away.

  Friggin’ Daughters.

  After that, he made sure Casey passed out a list of The Omega’s rules to every newcomer, the last one of which emphatically stated, “Disobedience of any rule will result in expulsion and possible banishment.”

  On Friday night, he geared himself up for a hectic night on the floor. Casey had already hired four new staff members, two for the floor, one for the bar, and one for the kitchen, and started training them. For the first time in a good, long while, Will would spend most of his night either covering for breaks or working the crowd, keeping peace and a weather eye on newcomers and old timers alike.

  When Sigrid pushed her way to the bar around seven, The Omega was packed with a crowd more than double its usual size. She jerked her chin at Will, and they edged toward each other through the mass of folks in need of entertainment.

  He wrapped her in a hug, more out of a need to hold her than anything, and pitched his voice over the noise of laughter and music and the basketball game playing on the TV. “You look tired.”

  “Mmm. You, too.” She sighed and leaned her head against his chest. “Are you coming over tonight?”

  Desire sifted through him so quickly, it stole his breath. “If you want me to.”

  “Yes.” Her finger traced the logo embroidered on his polo, etching heat in random patterns along the skin underneath. “Would you train with me in the morning?”

  The question startled him. He pulled away enough to meet her gaze. “You want to train with me?”

  “I need a sparring partner.” Her fingers trailed up his neck, and she cupped his face. “And a kiss.”

  “Happy to oblige,” he murmured, and touched his mouth to hers. She hummed low in her throat and melted into him, and the desire she’d sparked off with her innocent touch morphed into a raging flame of need.

  “I see the rumors are true,” a cold voice said, cutting right through the sensual heat.

  Will froze, still wrapped around Sigrid. His mother. Shit.

  Sigrid eased out of his embrace and turned, facing his mother with her chin held high. “Wilhelmina. How are you?”

  “Pissed off.” Wilhelmina’s gaze flicked to Will and her eyes narrowed in the honeyed oval of her face. “Your grandmother said you were enamored of this Daughter. I had no idea you felt free to kiss her in public.”

  Will pinched the bridge of his nose. “For fuck’s sake, Mom. I’m a grown man.”

  “My beloved son is never old enough to publicly kiss a woman who isn’t his wife.”

  Will’s father sidled up beside her and placed a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “Next time, Willie, you park the car and I greet our son.”

  “Hey, Dad.”

  Will leaned around Sigrid and clasped his father’s hand in a firm handshake. It was like shaking the hand of an older version of himself. Troy Corbin stood exactly two inches taller than his wife’s five foot eight inches, and sported close-cropped, graying blond hair the same shade as his only son’s. The same dimples creased their cheeks when they smiled and their shoulders carried the same athletic breadth. At fifty-six, Will’s father was still an attractive man, and had an uncanny ability to rein in his hard-headed wife.

  Will dropped his father’s hand and stepped back. Not for the first time, he wished he shared that particular trait with his dad.

  Wilhelmina cast her cold gaze on her husband. “You can’t possibly approve of his alliance with a Daughter of Sigrid’s reputation.”

  “Hey, now,” Will said, only to be overridden by his father.

  “Will’s a grown man,” Troy said mildly.

  “That he may be, but he also belongs to one of the most well-positioned families among the People.” Wilhelmina shrugged out of her down jacket and draped it over one arm. “Custom must be followed.”

  “Custom be hange
d,” Will gritted out, then lowered his voice. “I’m not going to argue about it in the middle of a crowded bar.”

  Sigrid half turned toward him. “Lunch tomorrow at my house. Will that suit as neutral ground?”

  “Yes,” Will said, at the same time his mother said, “No.”

  Troy smiled faintly at Sigrid. “Of course. What can we bring?”

  “Just yourselves.” She turned an equally cold gaze on Wilhelmina. “Another Daughter and I are meeting in restricted combat soon.”

  Will just barely hid a wince. He hadn’t told his mom about that yet. She was going to skewer him as soon as she got him alone.

  “I’ve already contacted my attorney to set aside a settlement for Will,” Sigrid continued.

  Wilhelmina’s eyebrows shot up. “You expect to win against Chana Wolfbane?”

  “I expect to win against all comers,” Sigrid said evenly. “Except Will. The decision is ultimately his. I won’t force him to commit to me outside of the relationship we now have.”

  Surprise shot through him, and it was all he could do to keep his expression blank, as if he’d already known the terms Sigrid would demand of him should she win.

  Troy’s gaze met Will’s. Something flashed in his father’s eyes, and was gone before Will could pinpoint exactly what it had been.

  Wilhelmina nodded. “Fair enough. We’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

  “One o’clock. Will works late tonight.” Sigrid bowed toward his parents, each in turn, then faced Will. “I’ll see you after work.”

  “Sure.” He brushed a kiss across her mouth, uncaring of his mother’s disapproving tut. Damn it, a man had a right to kiss his woman at the end of a long week. “Let me know if you need anything.”

  She smiled and slipped away, and disappeared into the crowd.

  Troy waggled his eyebrows at Will. “I’ve always liked her. She’s got spirit.”

  “Troy!” Wilhelmina said, and he laughed and tugged her into a hug and kissed her disapproval away.

  Will rolled his eyes, amused in spite of himself. “C’mon, Dad, knock it off.”

  Troy smacked a final kiss to his dazed wife’s mouth and winked at his son. “We’re going to try to track down your sister in this crowd, then we’re off for home. Your mother wouldn’t even let me stop by the house so we could unload our luggage. Came straight here from the airport in Atlanta.”

  “For crying out loud, Mom,” Will muttered, and she stared down her nose at him until he relented and hugged her. “Be good,” he murmured against her ear. “I like her.”

  He bit back what he really wanted to say, that since Sigrid had walked into The Omega, he’d suspected she was the one. The more time he spent with her, the more he believed it. His heart teetered on the edge of love, held back only by her reputation. He crossed his arms over his chest and watched his parents drift away. No, not by her reputation, but by her high-handedness, and by the newness of it all. Time would take care of one concern. They were spending every minute together that each of them could spare.

  And her high-handedness seemed to be melting away piece by piece. Maybe she’d eventually soften to him. Maybe she’d even grow to love him, the way he longed to love her, whole heartedly, in at the deep end, always and forever.

  Eric called Will’s name, dragging his attention back to the job at hand, and Will went back to work, his hopes and dreams and worries carefully tucked away.

  Sigrid was in a tizzy by the time Will’s parents arrived just before one the next afternoon. Oh, she didn’t show it, not overtly, but Will was beginning to know her. She’d resettled the floral arrangement she’d had delivered half a dozen times, even though she’d placed it dead center on the dining room table on the very first try. The enchiladas she’d thrown together had suffered the same fate once she’d slid them into a hot oven, and she’d made at least two circuits of her entire house, searching for possible flaws in a spotless home.

  The umpteenth time she opened the oven door and rechecked the enchiladas, he sidled up behind her and nuzzled a kiss to her throat. “Relax. Everything’s fine.”

  Sigrid sucked in a breath, one palm pressed to her flat stomach over the ivory colored blouse she wore. “I know.”

  “Then why are you so fussy today?” He turned her gently around and pulled her into his chest, soothing her with a hug and tiny kisses pressed to her eyes, the tip of her nose, the stubborn set of her chin. “I’ve never seen you this rattled before, not even the day you challenged Chana.”

  Sigrid’s breath huffed out into his chest and her fingernails scratched his skin lightly through his shirt. “Challenging that upstart didn’t rattle me.”

  “Yeah? Is that why you pounced on me that night when I got here?”

  “I did not pounce. I insisted. There’s a difference.”

  Interest stirred in spite of the stern lecture he’d given his body that morning. Behave, or else. Last thing he needed was his dick running amok while his mom was sitting across the table from him. “You gonna insist again later?”

  Her fingers fluttered against him. “This is no joking matter, Will. Your mother has the authority to…”

  Her words petered out, underlined by a tinge of emotion he’d never heard in her voice. He tilted her chin up and studied the calm mask her face had fallen into, save for the slight tremor of her lower lip. “What’re you afraid of?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You said that too quickly. Look.” He tucked her against his chest again and smoothed his hands slowly up and down her back. “Mom can say anything she wants, but she can’t touch me. I control my own assets. Dad insisted.”

  “I’m not worried about the money, Will.”

  “No, I know you’re not, but it’s an issue.”

  “Not the biggest one.”

  Her voice was tight, sharp, and it startled him. “You’re really afraid of her.”

  Sigrid was silent for a long time. The fire popped in the fireplace, a light rain started falling outside, pattering against the cedar shingles, and the oven timer buzzed a warning.

  At last, she said, “I’m afraid for you.”

  He shook his head, baffled. “Why?”

  “Because you could lose your family over this.”

  She stepped away from him, easily avoided his grappling attempt to hold onto her, and pivoted toward the kitchen. He took one step toward her. No way was he letting her get by without discussing her fears, justified or not.

  The doorbell rang, interrupting his pursuit, and he bit back a curse. That was some great timing his parents had. He’d needed five minutes, just five more minutes to coax Sigrid out of her funk, but no. His dad always had to arrive right on the nose. Just when he was getting Sigrid to open up, too.

  Will shoved his fingers through his hair as he stared at the door Sigrid had disappeared through, then stalked into the foyer and yanked the front door open. His parents were standing on the porch wearing their Sunday best under wool coats dusted with a light coating of rain.

  Resigned, he stepped back and let them in. “Hey. Lunch is almost ready.”

  Troy sniffed once as he helped his wife shed her coat. “Smells good.”

  “Enchiladas.” Will took his mother’s coat and hung it on the coatrack by the door, then helped his dad juggle taking off his coat with holding the wine they’d brought. “We’ve got a fire going.”

  Wilhelmina jerked down the cuffs of the deep red blouse she wore, then smoothed a hand over the front of her knee-length, black wool skirt. “We?”

  “Get over it,” Will said mildly. “Come on in. We can sit in the living room.”

  A door swung open, Sigrid’s heels tapped ever louder, then she appeared in the living room ahead of them, her expression as calm and unruffled as usual, though her skin was pale even for her. “Hello.”

  Troy held out the wine and his dimples flashed. “Thanks for having us.”

  Sigrid’s smile was faint. “You’re welcome here any time.”

  Wi
ll jumped in, half afraid the conversation would devolve into a litany of polite chitchat. “How was Wellington?”

  Wilhelmina perched on one end of the couch placed facing the fire, her hands folded primly in her lap. “Lovely, as usual.”

  Troy sat down beside her and placed one hand over hers. “It’s a lot warmer there than it is here.”

  “We’ve had a mild winter while y’all were off playing tourists.” Will waited until Sigrid settled herself into the recliner, then sat on the ottoman in front of it, deliberately placing himself between her and his mother. “Only one snowfall, and it was just a couple of inches.”

  Troy dove into retelling a memory from his own childhood days spent romping up and down the local mountains through inches of ice and snow, but Wilhelmina turned a calculating gaze on Will.

  Good. She needed to know he wasn’t going to give in to her just because she didn’t like the direction his heart leaned. Let her fuss. As long as he had Sigrid, he’d do what he damn well pleased.

  Lunch went much more smoothly than Will could’ve hoped. His mother relented enough to indulge in a light spate of gossip with Sigrid about her and Troy’s recent travels, some near other centers of the People. Will spoke only when he had to. Sometimes it paid to observe and listen, a trait he’d learned when he first started tending bar. No one among the People ever said exactly what they meant unless pushed, and this conversation was no different. Beneath the surface, his mom and Sigrid were testing each other, politely probing boundaries and stratagem.

  Troy caught Will’s gaze near the end of the meal and nodded subtly toward the living room, and Will nearly shouted his relief. Thank the Great Mother for college football.

  Not long after, his mother set aside her napkin. “I believe we have some business to attend.”

  Will pushed back his chair and stood. “Dad and I can clear the table while y’all talk.”

  Sigrid arched an eyebrow at him. “You would willingly miss negotiating your own future?”

  “It’s not like you’re drawing up a contract today.” He leaned down and brushed a kiss across her cheek. “Besides, there’s a game on.”