Chapter Four #2
Rob and Cherie have a brief discussion about the timing of dinner and how many places to set at the table, then he leads me out the back door.
There’s a small lawn, the thick-bladed grass trimmed short, with a wrought-iron table and chairs on flat pavers in one corner and large garden beds filled with drought-tolerant plants: herbs, agaves, aloes, and eucalyptus in colors of silver, sand, and sage.
A good-sized barn squats at the rear of the yard, the oversized double doors large enough for a carriage and a couple of horses. Now it’s probably used as a garage. Rob presses his palm to a black box by the side door and we enter. Instead of a fancy motor car or two, we find a working office.
A long table dominates the center of the room, with four grey, utilitarian desks pushed up against the walls.
Each desk has a computer with a pair of monitor screens, though only one looks like it’s been used at all.
Thick black cables connect the computers and run along the cement floor at the base of the walls, and the single bookshelf is empty except for a few titles stacked haphazardly.
Despite the overall clinical appearance, there are still a few cobwebs hanging from the rafters.
“What’s all this?” I ask.
“This, my friend, is where we’re going to take down Leander de Lisle.
” Rob says it with so much conviction I almost believe him.
Or rather, I want to believe him, and I would, if the idea didn’t make me sick at heart.
I’m leaden with the grinding anticipation of what we’re likely facing.
The weighty memories of what we’ve done before.
I’m very tired. I could use a bath, a shave, and perhaps a good night’s sleep before I hear what he’s got cooked up this time.
The light in his eyes says I’m not going to get those things.
“As Sonny hinted to young Marcus, his goal is to create a program that can access de Lisle’s network without leaving a trace.”
Sonny comes in behind us. “I’m making progress, too.”
Startled, I look quickly to make sure Marcus isn’t with him. There’s no way he needs to see this, at least not yet. Sonny is a magpie when it comes to learning new technology, and while I might not know anything about computers, I can’t see why we need someone as young and inexperienced as Marcus.
“It’s his cultural knowledge,” Rob says with a smirk. He’s watching me, and after a quick glance, I avoid his gaze.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Yes, you do. You’re so afraid of letting anyone get close that your mental calculations are obvious. At this moment you’re thinking we don’t need another computer specialist, and at this moment, you’re wrong.”
Sonny frowns. “The scope of de Lisle’s empire is enormous, bigger than that, even, and alone, I’ll never crack it. There’s no one else in the group who has made a study of tech.”
He gathers his shoulder-length hair into a knot at the base of his neck.
“We could also use someone who hasn’t been alive for hundreds of years.
We don’t want anyone to notice us, which means talking like a child of the twenty-first century and not like someone who went on Crusade with the Knights Templar. ”
“We certainly don’t talk like that.” I must sound rather prim, as both Sonny and Rob laugh.
“You might have progressed to the Victorian age.” Rob’s still chuckling, which makes me scowl harder.
Sonny waves me off, heading to one of the computers.
“This job is going to take all hands, and when the shit hits the fan, we’re not going to be able to leave an experienced fighter behind.
We need someone who knows his way around a computer to stay here and help us coordinate things.
Having someone who knows how to talk to people in this century can only be seen as a bonus. ”
He moves a small box with one hand and both screens spring to life. One is covered with postage-stamp-sized images and the other is white, covered with script in a language I don’t understand. “Making progress,” he mutters, “but I still have a ways to go.”
Rob claps his hands once. “Let’s go back to the house and see what we can find for lunch.”
Sonny continues scanning the computer screen. “Y’all go ahead. I fed earlier.”
It’s not worth wondering what our hostess thinks of the stash of blood bags that must be in a refrigerator somewhere.
Rob and I retrace our steps, though Cherie is no longer in the kitchen.
We reach the central hallway at the same time Will and Marcus clatter down the stairs.
Will is dressed in his usual very tight trousers and ruffled blouse, while Marcus?
Marcus looks like a pirate. Beautiful. And dangerous.
The pants Marcus borrowed don’t fit his slender frame as tightly as they would on Will, who is wearing his usual Renaissance drag.
Marcus’s blouse doesn’t have as many ruffles and the borrowed black leather boots come almost to his knees.
Will somehow scrounged a black eye patch that adds to Marcus’s piratical air even as it emphasizes his vulnerability.
He must have showered, and his dark hair falls in loose curls around his face, which make his lips look full and soft, the curve of his lower lip a delicate thing.
I freeze, every muscle drawn tight. It’s the only way I can keep myself from grabbing him and dragging him to the nearest bedroom.
In the woods he’d smelled of wolf and sweat. Now, his scent teases me with notes of something floral and clean. Oh, I want him. Every fiber of my being wants to give in to the temptation he represents.
And I cannot have him, for many reasons. We are too different—in age, in power, in basic life experience. We would have nothing in common.
Besides, I bear too many wounds left by other lovers whose lives were so much shorter than mine.
“What are you wearing?” Surprise makes my words sharp. “You look like Will’s twin.”
“And that, lovely boy, is the highest compliment he could have paid you.” Will inclines his head, his green-eyed gaze sharp and his arm around Marcus’s shoulders.
Rob is standing close enough for me to feel him shake. Laughing, the bastard.
“It’s good to see you, too, John Naylor,” Will continues. “You’re looking well.” He gives the last word the slightest emphasis, hinting that he knows whose power is sustaining me.
I give him a more formal bow. “As are you, elf.”
Marcus starts to laugh. “Wait. You’re an elf?”
Will gives him a mocking smile. “Is that a problem?”
Marcus shrugs, making no effort to step away from Will’s side. “I mean, I have a friend who says all elves are assholes.”
The corners of Will’s eyes crease with humor. “And after I found you such a lovely ensemble.”
“Yeah, that’s why I’m surprised. You’re not an asshole.”
Will wraps his other arm around Marcus in a loose hug. He’s watching me, though, his gaze shrewd.
He’d have to be blind not to see the jealousy ripping into my gut.
“All right. I apologize.” Marcus steps to one side. He’s grinning at me, and I lock my jaw to keep from smiling back.
I cannot have him, and more than anything, I need Rob to send him away.
“Now that that’s settled,” Rob says, putting a hand on my shoulder. “Marcus, you should go out to the barn so Sonny can show you the setup.”
“No,” I bark.
Marcus’s expression hardens. “Sure. Can’t hurt to take a look.”
“Good. This way.”
Rob leads Marcus out, leaving me alone with Will’s mocking laughter.