The Agency, Volume III Page 12

  He swiped his badge over the door and passed through the monitoring room, headed for the computer console at the end, where a slightly pasty Frog sat nursing a ginger ale and rubbing his head, blinking at a screen.

  "Frog," Rowan said, "I need you to look something up for me."

  Frog looked up at him blearily, pursing his lips. "Well, sure, it's not like I'm busy here."

  "I just need to know if a particular species is in the database. At least I think it's a species; I don't know for sure. It'll take two minutes. Please."

  Frog sighed. "Only because you never ask me for favors. And because I'm too tired to argue. What's the species?"

  "Seraph," he replied.

  "What, like seraphim? Angels? I don’t think we have any mythical beings in the database, Rowan."

  The Elf blinked at him. "We have unicorns."

  "Yeah, well, they're not mythical, are they? I mean, most of the legends don't mention the scales or the howling, but still...hang on, the search is running."

  The suite door opened, and Rowan's heart skipped as Jason emerged, looking weary but still breathtakingly beautiful in his usual Agency black. When he saw Rowan he broke into a smile.

  Rowan was in his arms in a breath, kissing him hard enough to knock the vampire back a step, and he felt the solidity of Jason's chest and arms enfolding him, his heartbeat almost instantly banishing Rowan's anxiety and the residual sorrow he'd been feeling since he had woken up from his dreams. "Oh, love," he murmured, running his hands down Jason's arms, half afraid he'd disappear.

  "I missed you so much," Jason sighed into his hair. "Ness and Nava said I can come home now."

  "Thank Goddess."

  Frog cleared his throat, and Rowan looked up in time to see several pairs of eyes dart away from them, a couple of faces flushing just a tad.

  Jason raised an eyebrow, and Rowan explained, "We make great porn."

  "So I hear," the vampire said with a shrug. "What's going on?"

  "I was having Frog check on something for me--what did you find?"

  Frog pushed his glasses back on his nose. "We have it; there's not much info, but there's a short description. Here, it says, Seraph are an extinct Elder Race that died out in the Medieval period. They're referred to in various sacred texts and apocrypha, and were often mistaken for angels because their primary purpose seems to be acting as guardians to prophets, bodhisattvas, and other important humans. According to legend there was one associated with Jesus of Nazareth--"

  "Fat lot of good that did," Jason muttered.

  "Depends on how you look at it, SA-7. These things keep their assigned human safe until they fulfill their purpose on Earth, and sometimes that means dying young. Considering how important a figure Jesus was, there's almost no record of his life from youth to adulthood, so if this is true, his Seraph did a damn good job keeping him off the radar. Looks like when the human dies the Seraph does too, although they don't really die so much as they...holy shit. Holy fucking shit."

  Rowan and Jason both stared at Frog, who wasn't known for his cursing. "What?" Rowan asked.

  Frog looked up at them, and he was pale, this time from something entirely different than a stomach virus. "Seraph are beings of pure spirit. They can only exist on the physical plane if they--"

  "Take a host body," Jason finished for him, gripping Rowan's arm so tightly it hurt. "Son of a bitch."

  Rowan's mind was reeling as he said to Frog, "Get on the intercom and call Ness and Nava. Call them now."

  Part Eight

  Sunday morning dawned bright and clear with a soft warmth in the air, and Sara opened all the guesthouse windows to let the breeze in while she packed.

  She was leaving with an entire bag more than she'd come with; the Elves had insisted she take the clothes they'd given her, and she had gifts of food, wine, incense, and even two pairs of handmade wooden hair combs--one for herself, and one she'd gotten for Sage's upcoming birthday. She had insisted to the Artisan that she had nothing to trade with, but the woman's son was one of the children Sara had kept watch over and taught to bake pizza, and apparently the child's glowing praise had been well worth the combs to his mother.

  Sara had enjoyed playing with the children, in spite of herself; they weren't like human kids, who annoyed her and made her nervous. Elflings held full conversations at a year old, and Elora was the youngest here except for a single infant.

  Life here was simple, and lovely, even in the shadow of all the grief the Elves had suffered. Everyone had a part to play, and everyone belonged. Even Aven, who was still afraid to leave his new dwelling more than a few hours a day, was welcomed into the fold, and given a room in a communal house with several other Gardeners, where he was put in charge of the household herb garden while he finished his recovery.

  Sara liked Aven; she'd visited him several times since Rowan had left. He was quiet and thoughtful, definitely more comfortable around plants than people, but had braved his memories to speak with her even though she was human, and hadn't been at all upset that Rowan had to leave him so abruptly. Sara had promised him over and over that the Rethla would be back to see him soon, and Aven had smiled a little shyly and thanked her for being so kind to someone she barely knew.

  She was going to miss this place. She knew she had an open invitation, not only from Ardeth and Elora but from most of the Clan, to visit whenever she liked, but work with the Agency didn't lend itself to frequent vacations. She was just going to have to make the effort, though--she wanted to see Ardeth again. Soon.

  As if summoned by the thought, the smith appeared at the guest house door. "Hello in the house," he called.

  She had already started using the Elven greetings and blessings. "Enter and be welcome," she replied, poking her head out of the bedroom to smile at him.

  He was wearing dark red today, and was positively irresistible--she checked her watch. She had to be at the rendezvous point by two, and it was a three-hour walk...good, she had time to get him out of those robes and back in them again before she had to leave.

  He seemed to sense what she was thinking. "Before you act on the extremely appealing ideas running through that beautiful head of yours, I have a gift for you."

  "You do?" She grinned. "Another triple orgasm?"

  Ardeth laughed. "All right, I have gifts for you. But this one first." He reached into the light cloak he wore and withdrew a fabric-wrapped parcel, which he held out to her.

  Sara already knew what it was by the feel of it beneath its wrapping, but she was still amazed as she pulled the cloth aside and revealed the silver rim, the bowl, the stem...an expertly worked silver ritual cup, just like those of the Clan, carved with Elvish Runes and also a Triple Moon symbol in honor of her Wiccan leanings. The cup had a slightly different shape from those she had seen--the bowl was taller, more like a wine glass than a goblet, and had a feminine curve that made her think of a woman's breast.

  "This is...oh, Ardeth, it's perfect," she breathed. "Thank you."

  He was already reaching into his cloak again, and said, "And this, too, is for you, although I admit it is one of my stock--as I said, I do not like the idea of anyone I care for going without a blade at all times, and so--"

  He held out a small but deadly-looking knife in a black sheath, perfectly sized to fit inside her SA uniform. It looked a lot like the one he'd made for Beck, but smaller, almost...ladylike.

  Sara held both gifts to her heart, unable to come up with the words to contain what she was feeling, but there was no need; Ardeth came to her and held her close, and before long she set aside her gifts to spend one last hour with her skin to his skin.

  Her heart was heavy as she shouldered her bag and walked out of the guesthouse--she tried not to think of it as the last time. She would be back. She had promised Elora, after all, that they could make chocolate chip cookies next time, and Sara would bring the chips from Austin herself.

  Ardeth walked part of the way with her, his hand in hers. "Depending on our case lo
ad I might be able to get away around Midsummer," Sara said. "If we can find a weekend before that, you could come stay at the base with me."

  He nodded. "Let me know what your Summer looks like and we will do our best. I have an email address now, did you know that?"

  Sara laughed at the thought. "Really? Do you have your own computer?"

  "No, there are several in the Council building where they interface with the Agency's security people. Two are free for use at any time. The Agency has offered computers to anyone who wants one in their home, but we're taking it slowly, weighing the invasive technology against what we might gain. I daresay less than half the Clan would want it, but I would--I am one of the few who has friends outside this forest."

  Ardeth produced a small card on which was written his name, profession, and email address. "You have business cards," Sara laughed. "That's perfect."

  "No website, as yet," he replied, laughing as well. "But Elora tells me she can learn this html language and make one for me if I like. I said, one step at a time."

  "Your three year old wants to learn to code. I love this place."

  Ardeth smiled, but didn't laugh. "I regret that you have to leave, fedela. Having you here has brought brightness and laughter into my life that I had forgotten even to miss. Elora's mother...if I may speak of her..."

  "Of course," Sara told him. "I'd like to know more about her."

  "She did not look like you, or speak like you, but she brought laughter and joy with her, as you do. She made my life shine. So do you. I would like to stand in that light whenever you will have me."

  They embraced, and kissed, and Sara tried not to cling; Ardeth bestowed a farewell kiss on her forehead, and stepped back, bowing to her. She bowed back to divert attention from how her eyes were misting up, and with one last squeeze of their hands, Ardeth turned back down the path, and she set her eyes and her boots on the road, heading away from Clan Willow, back toward her life.

  *****

  “Sorry I didn’t bring you any cookies,” Sage said, sitting down cross-legged on the floor of Sara’s bedroom while she unpacked. Pywacket, who was showing Sara how pissed he was at her absence by completely ignoring her, immediately bounded over to Sage and demanded petting, to which the baker gave in readily enough. “I’ve had my head in the toilet all week.”

  Sara made a face. “So you’re here now spreading your germs—thanks.”

  “Oh, come on. It’s been four days, I can’t possibly be contagious anymore. Besides, half the staff is down with this stuff, so if you do get it don’t blame me.” Sage smiled wanly. “Do yourself a favor and requisition some Gatorade now, though. They were out of it yesterday.”

  “Another reason I wish I hadn’t had to come back so soon,” Sara sighed, placing the silver cup on her altar, then carefully stowing the combs for Sage in a desk drawer before she could see the package and ask what they were. “I’m telling you, if you ever get a chance to go there, you should. It was wonderful.”

  “Except for the nightmares,” Sage observed. “And the angst. And the three-hour hike there and back.”

  “Fine, Miss The Glass is Half Empty.” Sara threw a dirty shirt at her, and Sage snorted, batting it away. “How’s Frog?”

  “Still puny, but he couldn’t take any more time off. They’ve got his team working on that kid that SA-7 brought in, the baby vamp. There’s something really weird going on. Weirder than usual. Personally I can’t wait for tomorrow when I can get back on the Ear again and everyone’s doing what they do. It’s been a messed-up week, and you being gone kind of sucked.”

  Sara grinned at her. “Rowan said the same thing. It’s hell to be popular.”

  “So your blacksmith boy is really good in the sack, eh? I would have bet money on that. He’s hot. I saw him at the handfasting giving you the eye.”

  “Yeah…it’s weird. Most of my life I spent attracting hairy Pagan guys and smelly hippies. And truck drivers. I guess if you become a secret agent you end up knee-deep in gorgeous Elves.”

  “I bet James Bond would beg to differ.” Sage gathered Py up into her arms and turned him on his back for a belly rub. “You know, I was looking at the scan results on the baby vamp—“

  “Isn’t that classified for SAs only?”

  Sage stuck her tongue out. “Yeah, and who was it that broke into the personnel files her first week here?”

  “Okay, fine. Anyway.”

  “Right. It made me wonder—vampires have all these biological mutations, right? Their stomachs shrink so they can’t eat food, stuff like that. So why do they still have sex? What purpose does it serve if they don’t have babies?”

  Sara laughed. “Well, for starters it would make all the novels about them really boring.” She finished throwing all her dirty clothes into a pile to take to the laundry, and hung her backpack in her closet. “But I read the Agency file on the species and it most vampires who survive a really long time have sex with their prey. They produce some kind of orgasmic euphoria that gets you off really hard, so your mind is so fogged up you don’t fight them. Apparently sex-stimulated endorphins in the blood make it a hundred times better. And it keeps you from remembering them too clearly the next day so you don’t think to inform the authorities that some hot pale guy bit you. Plus, sex is such a fundamental drive, Jason said those who keep on doing it as immortals live longer than those who don’t.”

  “Meaning Anne Rice was full of shit.”

  “In more ways than one. Besides, Nature tends to do things conservatively; the major changes are all necessary to avoid wasting energy, but other stuff they don't really need is still there--it's not like their molars fall out and all they have are canines.”

  “Personally I don’t think eternity would be worth much if I couldn’t get laid,” Sage opined, draping the cat over her lap. “I’m guessing Jason and Beck would say the same thing.”

  The apartment door beeped, and a moment later a slightly disheveled but smiling Rowan appeared in the bedroom doorway. “At last,” he said, “the prodigal daughter returns.”

  Sara made a noise that came out embarrassingly like a squeal and hugged him tightly.

  Sage was holding back a snort, Sara could tell. “Well,” the baker said, rising and displacing the cat, “I’ll leave you two to…that thing I’m sure you’ll be doing in a minute.” She let Rowan kiss her on the cheek and departed with a wave.

  “She looks better,” Rowan commented. “Frog still looks like hell warmed over. God, it’s good to see you…how are you? Are you exhausted? Hungry?”

  She laughed and lay her head on his shoulder. “Both. I was thinking I’d grab a shower and then go up for some dinner. Why don’t you come with me? You can get me caught up on all this craziness.”

  The Elf responded by biting her lightly where her neck joined her shoulder, sending a shiver through her. He knew exactly where to touch her to make her melt five seconds after she’d gotten home, even when she was grubby from travel and her stomach felt like it was going to chew its way out of her middle. “Come on,” she said, tugging his shirt off over his head. “Let’s get wet.”

  Sara knew she was a bit of an odd duck, because she didn’t usually like having sex in the shower; someone always ended up with a cold butt sticking out of the spray, and there was a risk of broken hips if someone was as uncoordinated as she was. Still, climbing under a hot stream of water and being soaped up by an eager Elf was always worth the time. They undressed each other playfully, laughing all the while and trading anecdotes about the last few days.

  “…and there’s a knock at the workshop door, and it’s Elora wanting a bedtime story. And I’m bent over the workbench and we're both stark naked. I haven’t gotten dressed that fast since that time in high school my boyfriend and I got busted under the bleachers…”

  “…and now every time Tracy from R&D Lab 2 sees me walking down the hall she makes this ‘meep!’ noise and runs away. Beet red.”

  “I can’t believe you did that in front
of all those cameras. You’re such a slut.”

  Rowan pushed her head backwards so the shower spray hit her full in the face, and she came out sputtering, giggling, and slapping at him. He caught her before she could slip, and turned her to face away, pressing up against her back, heat and water hitting her and banishing the laughter from her mind. His slick hands moved up beneath her breasts, one holding the mesh bath sponge and squeezing soapy water down over her stomach.

  “Missed you,” he said into her ear. His hips rocked forward into hers and she felt just how true the words were.

  In reply, she braced her hands on the tile wall and arched backward, their bodies finding their way together out of months of practice, a soft moan escaping her lips as he slid into her, hot water pouring down over them both. He leaned forward and held onto the back of her neck with his teeth, a move he’d no doubt learned from Jason. His hands moved down to her hips.