Good Intentions (46 page)

Stalkers

El iott Bay was pretty at night, and prettier upside down. Rachel came to that conclusion sometime after four in the morning, after her charge and his company finally al drifted off to sleep leaving nothing for her to watch. She had no place better to be, though. She thought about stretching her wings in flight, but decided against it. That would naturally be the exact moment that Alex would be attacked by demons or flying ninja monkey robots or something equally sil y. Instead, she hung upside down from the balcony rail with her feet wedged between the bars. Her shoulder-length blonde hair dangled from her head. Despite the pul of gravity, her white dress, still somewhat damp, clung to her body just closely enough to meet what little requirements of modesty Rachel felt. She saw a ship come into port. Watched a tug come out to meet it. Listened to the sound of cars rol ing by on the Alaskan Way Viaduct. Heard the sound of two feet coming down onto her balcony rail above her. “Get a good fuckin’ look,” she snarled darkly at the angel now standing over her. “It’s the only way you’l ever see up my skirt again.” “How long have you been out here, Rachel?” Vincent asked evenly. He was, as usual, dressed only in white pants. His muscular, hardened chest was there on display along with al its faded yet manly scars. There was a time when Rachel greatly enjoyed looking at it, and at him. “Long enough that you’re my fourth visitor,” she said. Despite her sour greeting, she didn’t care for giving Vincent a show. Rachel curled up without any real effort to grab the balcony rail above her, releasing her feet. The angel above her offered a hand, but she ignored it. With a small tug and a single flap of her wings, she was up and over the rail and standing on the balcony again. “Saw your great white whale go by a few hours ago,” Rachel mentioned dryly. “Harrow?” “Think so. He went thataway,” Rachel said, jerking her thumb over her shoulder.

“Gone now, surely,” Vincent said with a frown. “Yeah. ‘specially with the way you’re al over his ass now that you have a lead on him. Some dedication there.” “I came to speak with you, not leap at shadows. We used to be so close.” “I don’t think that means what you think it means, but that’s been over for a long time. I’ve got nothin’ to say to you that hasn’t been said already. Go find a new groupie to hang on your jock. I’m done.” Vincent blinked. He still found Rachel’s adopted speech patterns surprising. She had always been an odd one, but lately she had been downright strange. He sighed, deciding to press on. “Your charge.” “Is none of your business,” Rachel said promptly. “I was given charge of this city. As long as he resides here, he is my business, and so is the succubus.” “Whom you want to get rid of.” “I do. But I have been overruled. Your argument seems to have won the day. Our superiors feel that their relationship has brought good that outweighs the potential danger. They have instructed me to leave the issue alone.” Rachel waited for the other shoe to drop. She’d known Vincent far too long to fall for this. He was too proud to come tel someone they’d won an argument with him. “I will concede the issue, but there is another concern that must be addressed if I am to leave this matter alone. The boy at this point has supernatural dealings beyond those of normal mortals. His right to the protection of a guardian angel is forfeit.” Rachel’s eyes went wide. “What difference does it make to you!?” “There are too few guardian angels as it is for the number of souls in this world. To waste such strength on one who

is already so protected is unconscionable.” “Protected!?” “Not only has he shown courage as you have so loudly proclaimed, he is also protected by the succubus. She is perhaps the most formidable and accomplished of her kind ever to creep out of the Pit. I hardly see how this counts as a small advantage. We do not protect sorcerers or others of supernatural capacity. Why should Alex be any different?” “We’re not talking about someone who has turned away from Heaven!” “We’re not?” Vincent said with just enough of a hint of a sneer. “Whom—or what— does he lay with even now?” “Is this really about him? Or is this about you? It can’t be about me, not after al this time.” “How is it that you are so infatuated with him?” Vincent frowned. “To feel some sense of obligation is understandable, but what can he be to one such as you?” “After everything he’s accomplished, you can seriously ask that? Look at what he’s done. Look at who he is. And even if he hadn’t had al this craziness happen to him, he’d still be as great a guy as anyone I’ve ever known.” Vincent was unmoved. “I expect, then, that he will do fine without the protection of Heaven if he is so blessed with quality. He has, as you keep pointing out, already vanquished one flesh-wearing demon. If he is as brave as you say, he ultimately has even less to fear from greater demons. Against a demon of the Pit in its true form, courage is al a mortal really needs.” He favored her with a thin, reassuring and utterly disingenuous smile. “I’m sure he’l be fine.” “That’s a bul shit oversimplification and you know it. You of al people know it.” “It is the way of the world.” “I won’t abandon him!”

“I am not your superior,” Vincent shrugged. “I cannot order you to do anything.” “No, but you can come threaten and gloat.” He sighed again, a bit melodramatical y. “I am wounded that you look upon me with such contempt and suspicion. I remember how we once cared for one another. I do only my duty. I came to speak to you before I went before our superiors with this issue.” “You self-centered motherfucker. If you start one more sentence with ‘I,’ my foot’s gonna make sure the rest comes out at a much higher pitch,” Rachel growled. Vincent glared at her with his jaw set like a stone. Rachel waited, knowing he’d have to have the last word somehow…but then he turned and took wing, flying off of the balcony. In the back of her mind, she noted that he did not leave in the direction she had seen Harrow going. It was a small point to make, but tel ing nonetheless. There was a time when he wouldn’t have even stayed to chat with her when there was a trail to take up. There was a time when she’d have gone with him, and would have been overjoyed to do so. It wasn’t a pleasant memory. Real y, it just made her feel like a complete heel. Rachel leaned on the balcony railing. She blew a lock of hair out of her face. Alex had one other thing going for him, she figured. Dying couldn’t be pleasant—it had to be awful, real y—but at least a mortal had the chance to ditch al his baggage at least once a century or so. * “You seriously want me to cal campus security before I cal the regular cops? Ann, you should see this place. It’s a disaster.” Lisa gestured to her surroundings as if her supervisor could see what she meant, but her cel phone wasn’t

equipped for recording video, let alone video calling. still , her description of the ransacked college admissions office was accurate. “Yeah, well maybe if those fat-ass rent-a-cops actually patrolled and stuff, the office here wouldn’t be so trashed. No. Fine. I’l cal them. I’m just a little freaked out. At least it doesn’t look like anything was taken…just trashed. You’d think someone would’ve stolen the computers, right? But they’re still al plugged in. Anyway, I’ve got this. I’l see you when you get in. Okay, bye.” Lisa flipped her phone shut. She grimaced, picking her way through emptied desk drawers and scattered binders on the floor. Somewhere on the desk near her computer terminal was a list of campus phone numbers. She’d have to use that to cal the campus meter maids. She wondered how long it would be before anyone got there. There was something really dumb about having to be at work at six in the morning when everyone else got to rol in after 7:30 or even later. Her main role at this hour was just to answer the phones…as if anybody actually cal ed a college at this hour. What it really came down to was that Ann’s boss, Colin, was an al -around douchebag desperate to show improved service in his department. He couldn’t think of ways to actually make that happen, so he came up with superfluous bul shit like having someone in the admissions office as early as 6:00 am. Lisa got to her desk, found the directory that she had taped in front of her monitor, and started looking for her desktop phone. It wasn’t in plain sight. Lisa realized it had been knocked over the side of her desk and was about to pick it up when a gloved hand suddenly wrapped itself tightly around her throat. She couldn’t scream. He was holding her too tight. He wasn’t alone, either. There were two men—no, two men and a woman. One of them had a long black duster on over black jeans and a black shirt, and on his hips was a gun belt like someone would wear in a Western. He even wore a black cowboy hat. The other, the one holding her throat, also dressed in black (sans Goth cowboy motif), and had an honest-to-God sword strapped to his back. The handle of it loomed over his shoulder. The woman wore a corset, black leather pants and stilletto heels. In any other situation, Lisa would’ve made a snarky comment about sales at Hot Topic. “Natalia?” asked the one

holding Lisa. “Do you want to explain things?” “When my friend Spade here lets you go, you will not scream,” the woman said with a matter-of-fact tone. “You’l just log into your computer quietly. Understand?” Lisa nodded. “Good. Then you’l retrieve the records for a single student. After that, we’l be gone. But do it quickly.” With that, Spade let her go. The other one checked his pocket watch, which he wore on a chain. “Forty-one minutes to sunrise,” he muttered. Natalia just pointed at the computer workstation. Gasping for breath, Lisa moved with shaking hands over to her desktop. She pressed the power button on her computer tower. In the uncomfortable silence that fol owed, she reached for something to say in hopes of reducing the tension and hostility. “Spade?” she asked. “Like the tool?” “No, it’s ‘spade’ like the card, idiot,” the sword-bearing man snapped. “Like the ace of spades?” Lisa figured that made him only seem more like a tool, but she held her tongue. She didn’t want to die at this crappy job even before the sun came up. * “He wintered in the land of the Danes once,” Sibbe said, her voice dry and markedly devoid of sympathy. “Did you know that? He raided with Thialfi and his men, and was there when Thialfi fell and his longship was taken. He survived that battle. He was among the others who stole a ship to return home that summer with plunder. You might have remembered his name from the tales.” “Skorri is not an uncommon name,” Valgard grumbled. “I do not remember everything I have ever heard of every man named Skorri, nor could I tel them apart.” He leaned forward in his seat, looking on his second wife with impatient

interest. “What else?” Standing before her husband in his hall , with his adult sons and his men in attendance, Sibbe was for the first time in her life unafraid. What would be, would be. “Gunnar was there, too. He remembers. I spoke with him before I returned.” “And what does Gunnar say?” “That Skorri fights with strength beyond his size. That he snuck past the Danes on many nights. That Skorri feels no pain from blades or fire. That he once saw Skorri so eager for a fight that the lad chewed on the edge of his shield. That the only thing Skorri loved more than battle was his wife.” At Valgard’s side, his tal son Kol snorted in derision. “Skorri is a goatherd, not a berserker. And Gunnar is an old goatherd as well .” “Gunnar is a goatherd now,” Sibbe said, not bothering to look at Kol directly. Her gaze remained on her bearded, muscular husband. “But Gunnar did not always limp. He sailed with Thialfi as well . And my father. He has always spoken truth to me.” “What else did Gunnar say?” Valgard pressed. “He said that Skorri will never accept any amount of gold as recompense for his hall a’s death,” Sibbe said simply, her hands folded in front of her. “That the loss of the men you sent chasing him is not the end of your woes.” She paused, and saw that Valgard could tel there was something else. finally, she said it: “And Gunnar offered to take me as his wife when my husband and his sons are dead at Skorri’s hands.” Kol roared with laughter. After a moment, so did his father, and then the dozen men in the room laughed as well . The serving wenches smiled, too, though their smiles didn’t reach their eyes. They moved about the hall with ale and meat in silence. “You don’t seem amused by this, mother,” said Bram. He sat at the end of one long table, sharpening his sword

beside his meal. He had a tendency to do such things. He seemed convinced it made him look intimidating. Sibbe ignored him. He wasn’t really her son, anyway. She kept her eyes on her husband. “I do not find humor in this,” she said simply. “You find humor in nothing,” Valgard scowled. “Not since we were married. Maybe not even before.” “Husband, I have done as you have asked. I have spoken to those who will not speak plainly to you. I have learned much in this that I wish to tel you, as a wife should tel her husband and a mother should tel her sons.” Sibbe pointedly ignored that Valgard’s brutish sons were, thankfully, not actually hers but borne instead by his first wife. “Indulge me,” Valgard shrugged. “You asked when Skorri and his wife came to your hall , requesting to live in your lands and under your protection, why they had left Skorri’s old chief. Do you remember what he said?” “Something about green pastures and a warmer place for his wife to give birth,” Valgard sighed. “A goatherd,” Kol repeated pointedly. “Did you not notice that he referred to the coming child as hers? Not his?” “I did not,” Valgard admitted. He rolled his eyes. He hated it when Sibbe spoke to him like this. He would have to beat her for it later. One would think she would know that by now. “It was not his child,” Sibbe said. “Stil born, as we al know. But not his child.” Valgard snorted. So did his sons. “Then he was already a cuckold before he came here,” Bram said dismissively. “Makes one wonder about his supposed rage now.” “Indeed,” Sibbe said, “but his raiding came before his marriage. They were a young couple. Married barely two

years ago. He made only one voyage after he and hall a came together. So imagine—I know this is hard for you, so I will use small words,” Sibbe noted, her eyes narrowing somewhat. “Imagine a man who fights as Skorri does. Someone who has raided much more than Valgard’s sons. This man finds a woman, marries her, and when he finds she has lain with another in his absence, he does not kil her. Rather, he moves to a new land where few if any may know them. “He is taken in by a strong lord. He swears his al egiance. And then the first time he is away from home, his lord and his lord’s sons visit his small home to rape and murder his wife.” “Watch your tongue, Sibbe,” Valgard snapped. “My point is to ask: what manner of warrior forgives a wife who is once unfaithful to him? Who travels with her from their lands to avoid the scandal of her condition, giving up al he has when he could cast her aside for another woman? Who intends to keep and raise her son by another man? What must there be between them? Surely this is not a man who makes decisions based on fear or weakness,” Sibbe suggested. “And if he kept her at his side for some other reason, perhaps for the sort of emotion unknown to my husband and my sons…if he made such sacrifices to keep his wife, consider: what would such a man do if he lost her?” “If the bitch had given us what we’d wanted, we wouldn’t have been so rough,” Bram shrugged. He was still looking at his blade and whetstone. “How were we to know she was so fragile?” “Tel me, Bram,” Sibbe asked, her face emotionless, “how many of Valgard’s men have you cuckolded?” The question hung in the hall like a cloud of smoke that refused to dissipate despite the silence that fol owed. Only Valgard and his sons were will ing to meet her gaze; every other man’s eyes turned to the floor, or to the wall , or to his own boots. No one had ever dared speak of such things before. “Kol ? Valgard? How many women have you been ‘rough’ with? How powerful does it make you feel to take whomever—?” “Get out,” Valgard growled. Sibbe did not need to be told twice. She left the hall .