Gathering Storm (16 page)

Storm would never call her
something so ridiculous. He knew how she felt about stupid pet
names, especially those that involved pastry or produce: cupcake,
pumpkin, peaches, pie.

Her look of horror kept
pace with her growing realization that the man whose semen was
currently seeping down her thighs, was not her husband. She emitted
a sound that was a cross between a cough, a sob, and strangulation,
then grabbed a bath sheet off a hook within reach and hurriedly
drew it around her. The imposter responded by sculpting Storm's
face into a wicked smile that her spouse simply did not have in his
range of expressions.

"Aw, baby, don't cover up
now. I like the view."

While he grabbed a corner
of the towel and began playfully pulling it away from her, she
grasped the black diamond pendant and squeezed. If Deliverance
thought he was in trouble before...

When Litha’s dad appeared
a moment later, Angel jumped and yelped a little.

Deliverance looked at the unashamedly naked
Storm and smiled. “Having fun yet?”

Litha gathered her bath sheet around her
with as much dignity as she could muster, circumstances being what
they were, and hissed at her father.

"You know, you would think
that, with a name like Deliverance, you could manage to
deliver
the right
Storm."

The demon jerked his head
at a naked, confused version of Storm. “It’s not him?"

She shook her head.
"
Definitely
not."

Deliverance openly sniffed
the air then knowingly looked at his daughter.

She hated the scarlet
blush that she knew was creeping up her neck toward her face,
darkening the already pink effect of the beard burn his stubble had
left on her cheeks. But she didn't hate the color of humiliation
nearly as much as she hated her dad at that moment. If she had ever
been more irate, she couldn't remember when. Pair that with
righteous indignation and she was summoning every scrap of
remaining patience to make her voice even enough so that she didn't
sound every bit as crazy as she felt at the moment.

"Get. Him. Out. Of. Here."

"Where do you want me to take him?"

Litha turned to face the wall and put one
hand out in front of her against the tile for support. "Just get
him into some pants and wait in the kitchen."

"Okay."

He had the gall to sound
dejected. Turning to the unwanted version of Storm, the demon
raised his eyebrows.

"You heard her. Cover it up
and follow me." When Angel didn't move, Deliverance snapped his
fingers and waved his hand in front of the guy's face. "If you're
waiting for me to dress you, that's not...," he stopped and looked
at Litha's tense posture, "that’s
probably
not going to happen. Pants
on and come with me."

Looking a little dazed,
Angel pulled on his pants and shirt and grabbed his boots on the
way past, casting a look over his shoulder at Litha as he left. He
followed Deliverance down the hallway to the kitchen where the
demon leaned against a counter with his arms crossed and glared at
the confused transplant like the whole thing was his
fault.

Good-Looking-Angry-Man
might not have anything to say, but Angel had questions.

"Where is this? Who are
you? Who is she? How did I get here?" His eyes darted around the
kitchen. "Never mind. Scratch all that and let me make it simple.
What the fuck is going on here?"

Good-Looking-Angry-Man
made no move to gesture or speak. Angel decided he would give it as
long as it took to pull his boots on. When time was up and there
was no answer forthcoming, he stood and glanced toward the back
door.

"Fine. Then I'm out of here. See ya."

"Sit down."

It wasn't an invitation.
It wasn't a command. It sounded more like a foregone conclusion, as
if Deliverance had never experienced not getting his way and
couldn't even conceive of the possibility.

"Why? It was a sweet bag, but I'm done with
her and you don't seem to have any answers soooo..."

If Angel Storm had
understood that he was talking to a powerful,
eight-hundred-year-old elemental that some called demon, and that
the “bagging” to which he referred was said demon's daughter, he
might have been more concerned about the flash of irritation he saw
in those black eyes.

"Done with her?"

Deliverance's tone was
incredulous. No creature in the cosmos would dare talk about Litha
with such an absence of respect. He didn't consciously call a fire
ball to his hand. His emotional reaction just brought it on
involuntarily. It would have felt marvelous to laugh while the
contemptuous underling incinerated, but he didn't want to see any
more hurt or shame or disappointment on his little girl's face. And
he didn't want to be scolded anymore either. So he willed the hot
flame to change to cool blue and then spit out.

"What the hell?" Angel's
eyes had gone wide when Deliverance produced fire from
nothing.

"Sit and shut it or you may
find
I'm
the hell
humans like to use to scare children."

Angel Storm wasn't fond of following orders,
but decided to make a prudent exception in that case. He sat. And
shut it.

For a long time, Litha
stood in the bath not moving, just trying to wrap her brain around
what had happened and process. That meant a few tears and a lot of
curses. She felt betrayed by her own body. It wasn’t a willing
infidelity. It couldn't have been willing if she'd thought dragon
man was her husband, but in final analysis, how much of a
difference did that make? She'd taken another man inside her and
the shame of it made her nauseous.

Storm
. He was out there somewhere probably scared he couldn't find
his way back, while some look-alike loser was getting off in their
bed.

She took a hot shower,
scrubbing her skin until it was raw and red. The whole time she was
having to work hard at beating back a feeling of queasiness. All
that scouring didn't make her feel better, but not doing it would
have made her feel so much worse.

When she couldn’t stall
any longer, she pulled on some old soft jeans and a long sleeve
tee. Litha sat on the edge of the bed and called Elora. Mercifully
she picked up on the second ring.

"I need you. In fact I need both of you. Can
you square away some babysitting for a couple of hours?"

Elora had been sprinkling
some raspberry vinaigrette onto a salad. She didn't have
aspirations or desire to be a great cook and she didn’t prepare
food often, but sometimes she liked to eat in with her little
family - just herself and her two boys. She stopped tossing and
grew serious.

"Of course. What do you
need?"

Litha sighed. "I need a
meeting. You, Ram, and Glen. Your apartment in twenty minutes.
Rosie’s been with Glen for the last four hours. She can come if he
wants to bring her.”

“Okay. Litha. Tell me what’s wrong?”

“It’s just too much to explain on the
phone.”

When Litha joined her
guests in the kitchen, she was holding a pair of handcuffs lined
with purple sheepskin.

"Which one of us are you planning to use
those on?" Storm's doppelganger sounded like he was hopeful that it
was a joke.

Her eyes grazed over him
before she leveled her father with a look.

"I’m going to Ram’s and
Elora’s. Give me a ten minute head start and then bring… him to
the
inside
of
their apartment. I don’t want anyone to see him." They heard an
audible clink when her palm slapped the counter. When she removed
her hand, there was a key sitting on the shiny black slate. Holding
the cuffs toward Deliverance, she said, "You will use these. When
you arrive with our guest, I’ll unlock the cuffs."

Deliverance knew he had
made an even bigger mess of his mess, but couldn't help being who
he was. So, picking up the cuffs, he said, "And you just happened
to have these lying around because..."

"It was an inside joke between my husband
and me. You remember my husband? THE ONE YOU LOST!"

"Jumping Jehosophat,
Litha..." The sparks that flew from her eyes could have been a
trick of the light. Those that spit from her fingertips were
audible pops and very, very real. Like Kellareal, he thought it was
best that she didn’t know that – between the mastery of magick and
her demon blood – his daughter was one of the most powerful
creatures in the universe. If she was mad to the point of
involuntary sparking, he was paying attention.

"Okay. Everyone stay
calm."

When she turned her
attention to a wide-eyed Angel, he stood up and said, "Thanks for
the memories. I'll just be going."

Deliverance put his hand
out and halted the exit. “You’ll be going when I say you’re going.
Meanwhile, just relax. Nobody’s hurting you.”

Angel cursed under his
breath.

Ram and Elora were
standing in their kitchen staring at each other, wondering what
could be going on, when there was a polite knock at the door. Elora
glanced at her pretty salad that was already starting to wilt and
look as sad as week-old flowers.

Rammel opened the door and
stepped aside to welcome Litha.

“I’ve only got ten minutes before
Deliverance gets here. And, before I forget, I told him to come
directly to your living room. I hope that’s okay.”

Elora looked concerned. “You want to sit
down? Are you hungry?”

“No. And no. Let me get this out.”

Ram and Elora looked at each other and
nodded toward Litha. “Of course. We’re listening.”

Litha explained what had transpired,
omitting the highly personal parts, naturally.

Ram’s phone buzzed on the counter. He picked
it up and talked quietly.

“Glen’s on his way with Rosie. He got held
up on the way out the door.”

“Okay. Let’s go in here and sit down.” Elora
motioned toward the living room and Litha nodded.

Deliverance popped in with
Angel in tow. Blackie took one look at the fake Storm and starting
growling. He was working himself into a crescendo when Elora called
him off. As his alpha, he deferred to her, but made it clear he
wasn’t happy about it. And he didn’t take his eyes off the man with
the shifty eyes and the untrustworthy smell.

Litha watched Ram’s and
Elora’s reactions and said, “It’s not him.”

Elora eyed Angel up and down. “You’re
sure?”

Litha laughed at that, but
there was no humor in it, just bitterness. “No room for
doubt.”

“Wow.”

As soon as Litha unlocked
the cuffs, Elora picked them up and looked at them.

“Ingenious, Litha. Your
idea?”

Litha’s mouth pressed into
a firm line that gave her a determined expression. “We’re not
losing anybody else.”

“
I’m assuming we’re
gathered to talk about what to do about this?”

Litha nodded.

Ram looked at Deliverance.
“What’s so hard? Just put the fucker back where you got him. And
next time, be more careful. Great Paddy! I can no’ believe I am
havin’ to say this to you. How many times can one demon be makin’ a
fuckwad mess of thin’s?”

While Ram was dressing down the demon, Elora
opened the door for Glen.

"Daddy!" Rosie rushed
toward Angel with her arms thrown open expecting him to pick her up
and swing her around while covering her face with
kisses.

"ROSIE! STOP!"

An average child that age
probably wouldn't have stopped at the commanding tone, but Rosie
was born with her parents' memories and experience. She stopped and
turned to look at her mother with eyes that momentarily looked too
big for her face.

Litha pulled her little
girl close, then said quietly, "It's not Daddy, sweetheart. It's
just a stranger who looks like him."

Litha looked up in time to
catch Angel’s shocked expression and see his eyes go straight to
Rosie.

Elora took Rosie by the
hand and led her into the kitchen. On the way past Angel, Rosie
looked up at him like he was responsible for disappointing her in
the worst way.

“
Come on. I’ve got your
favorite macaroons.” The kitchen and living room were only
separated by a bar so Elora could see and hear everything. She
picked Rosie up and set her on the kitchen counter next to her.
“How’s my girl?”

“I want my daddy back.”

“Yeah. I’m with you,
kidling. We all want your daddy back. And we’re working on
it.”

Ram resumed his line of
thinking. “So, again, what’s the problem with just droppin’ him off
wherever the dimwit picked him up?”

Deliverance jerked his
attention to the elf and narrowed his eyes in warning. Angel slid
toward an empty corner chair and eased down as inconspicuously as
possible, thinking he might as well get comfortable.

“Hold on.” Anyone present could have looked
at Glen and known the wheels were turning. He was wearing his
studious, real genius look. “It may not be so simple.”

“’Tis simple. Just put the fucker back.”

Rosie, still sitting on
the kitchen counter, giggled and whispered to Elora, “He said a bad
word.”