Good Intentions (35 page)

which he could stand balanced with his inhuman grace. That grace, he found, was quickly put to shame. She was beautiful, clad in a tiny, flattering black party dress, a black pearl choker and a charming, confident, arousing smile. Her long black hair was swept back in a simple ponytail. In her hands were spinning contact juggler’s sticks, burning at each end. To either side of her in the damp grass were small jars of some slow-burning fuel. He overheard from someone in the crowd that this was entirely improvised. Sherri, the hostess, happened to have a few of the right toys; the rest was al thrown together from her absent family’s camping gear. The stereo system had been moved down from an upstairs bedroom. Had Alistair not heard that, he’d never have imagined that this was unrehearsed. The vampire couldn’t get over her appal ing comfort with fire. She spun those sticks terrifyingly close to her flesh, tossing and catching them even at their burning tips and twirling them between and around her limbs, her waist and even her neck. Her legs extended and bent and swayed with mesmerizing sensuality. Her performance went through a single song, thril ing the mortals but leaving Alistair a touch shaken. Someone cued up the next song as she twirled the sticks with great speed until the flames were blown out. Then she reached out her hand to someone else in the audience who provided a can of some clear liquid—more fuel, of course—and two thinner sticks with their tips wrapped with cloth or pitch or some other covering that would hold a flame. Another song by the same band began. She dipped her sticks in the fuel, then in the flame of a jar next to her, and her performance became al the more frightening to the vampire. As she danced, she would trace one end of a stick across her flesh—an arm, a leg, even across the top of that magnificent chest—and leave the trail of fuel on her skin burning for a second or two before rubbing it out with a single, smooth swipe of her hand. Alistair had seen such things before, but rarely so close. It wasn’t the sort of thing that the undead looked upon with keen interest. His kind, for al their resilience, was at least as flammable as mortal man. “My love!” she cal ed out finally, her face aglow with a joyful smile, “Do you trust me?”

The answer came from within the audience: “With my life,” said a young man in jeans and a black button-down shirt. Catcal s and whistles erupted from the crowd in appreciation. She took full advantage of the innuendo suggested by her audience. Her posture and expression took on a distinctly erotic feel as she beckoned him forward. “Come to me, my love,” she urged him, fixing him with a smoldering gaze that got their audience howling. Her fingers twirled a flaming stick even as they gestured to him. The young man obeyed with a smile, standing still before her at her direction. He was passably handsome, Alistair thought, and acceptably dressed without being particularly stylish. Ultimately he seemed strikingly ordinary next to this work of larger-than-life sensuality. The dancer slid around him, bending and twisting and even grinding. Her lover seemed to understand that he was there mostly as a prop for her performance. He had good instincts for when to slip an arm around her waist or along whichever leg she threw around his hips, but did nothing to distract the audience from her. The flames were al around him, often coming very close. Alistair would have fled in terror in the first seconds, but this youth apparently truly was comfortable with his life in the dancer’s hands. Then she escalated to fire-eating, which sent a shudder through Alistair’s undead body. She doused one flaming side of her thin stick in her mouth. She extinguished another the same way… until it was clear that she had only al owed the still -burning fuel to drip into her mouth, and with a puff she re-ignited her torch. She teased the crowd with this twice, and in the end with her back to her lover she dripped and dripped flaming liquid onto her tongue before she extinguished the last of her sticks. She turned her lover, ensuring that they were both side-on to the majority of the audience, and pul ed him close while the flame continued to burn on her tongue. It went out with their kiss, which was long, deep and very much encouraged by the audience. The tone was set for those in attendance. Late arrivals would only be swept away by the energy rippling through everyone already there. Alistair realized that for once he was not likely to be the center of attention.

* “I believe I saw a vampire enter,” observed a voice coming from over Rachel’s shoulder. The angel sat on a rooftop overlooking the party, her legs gathered up against her chest with her arms around them. “Yeah. Saw ‘im.” “You are not concerned?” Hannah asked. “Short bus kids of the supernatural,” Rachel snorted. “If Alex can’t handle one of them on his own, let alone Lorelei, then I’ve totally misjudged this whole situation so badly I’l make personal apologies to everyone and take every shit job that comes down the pike for the next hundred years.” The older angel smiled at Rachel fondly before taking a seat beside her. “You are not prone to making apologies.” “Nope.” Rachel shrugged. “Yet you’ve always been proactive. I’m surprised you don’t go deal with him anyway.” “I want them to have this weekend together. You saw them in the backyard just now, didn’t you?” Rachel’s tone was wistful. “I’ve been watching them constantly since last night. They’re beautiful together.” “Yet you sound sad. Are you bothered by this morning?” “No,” Rachel shook her head. “Michael wasn’t really that mad. You’re not mad. Everyone else can eat me.” “Then why do you sound sad?” At length, Rachel sighed. “I think I’m gonna get fired, Hannah.”

Hannah was silent for a long moment, watching the house with Rachel as other guests arrived. “You are fall ing in love with him?” “Sure seems like,” Rachel nodded. “More and more every day. I don’t want to just watch over him. I want to be with him.” She fell quiet, and then added as a confession, “Them.” “That would be a scandal,” Hannah mused dryly. “I hated her at first, but she’s not what she was. Now I look at her and I see how much she’s changed. I feel like I can honestly see why he loves her so much, and it’s not just because he’s young and dazzled. She may be a trashy demon slut,” Rachel said with a wry grin, “but she’s also becoming something wonderful.” “You believe they would both accept you?” “I know they would. And whatever the Hosts think or say about it…” Rachel shrugged. Hannah laughed rueful y. “You’ve never been one to care what others say, either. Now more than ever. But you are also not unaffected by the mortal magic that struck you at the start of al this. Everyone knows that. Your situation is unique. I don’t think that your censure would be as bad as the sort that has arisen before.” She reached out to put her arm around the other angel. Rachel al owed it, leaning in to let her head fall on her mentor’s shoulder. “I hope you know that whatever you choose, I will be here for you should you need counsel, or just an open ear.” “I need to know what you know, Hannah,” Rachel said in a soft voice. “Tel me what you meant in the church yesterday.” Hannah sighed. “That Alex has been here before? That’s not at al unusual. So many souls come back again and again. He’s no more or less special than others in that regard. It’s just what he does with his lives is…painful.” “How do you know?”

The older angel’s face darkened with a bit of sadness. “I watched him once, a long time ago.” Rachel’s head came up, and she looked at Hannah with curiosity. “You did? But you’re not a guardian.” “Oh, maybe not as a full dedication of my time, but I’ve always kept my hand in,” Hannah shrugged. She didn’t look back at Rachel, and instead looked up at the moon. It was awhile before she finally spoke again. “He wasn’t anyone terribly special. Just another young Greek farmer. There was a girl he loved, married to an older, much wealthier man who treated her terribly. These days, in this nation, her husband would be imprisoned. Alex… my Alex helped her from afar as best he could, but he had no claim on her. Not until the young woman’s husband died of…wel . He had a mysterious fall down a hill side,” she smirked. “There was just enough of a stigma to her after al she’d been put through that Alex was her only serious suitor. They were very much in love,” Hannah mused. She laughed a bit. “He foreswore the pleasures of al other women and men for her. It was a different place and time, and another life.” “What happened?” “A scant few days later, he stood with men of his city on a hill top at a place cal ed Marathon. He argued, along with others, to attack the much larger invading Persian force before them right away, while it was still assembling on the beach, without waiting for Spartan reinforcements. “He was persuasive. Not so eloquent as Miltiades and the other leaders, but he spoke well . They valued that in those days, you know. Public speaking. Men valued generosity and honor, self-control and respect for women and elders, but above al they cared about persuasiveness and skill in battle. By the grace of Heaven, he had al of that.” Rachel just watched and listened in silence as Hannah stared at the moon. “The next morning,” Hannah said, “the Athenians and their Plataean al ies charged and routed the Persian army. I protected him as much as I could, but in battles, men die. He was brave and effective, and so very good with that spear, but…before it was al over, he had put himself in front of a mortal blow from a spear that was meant for the man at his side. History remembers the man

he saved by the name of Aeschylus. “He and his new wife never had a chance to make love even once,” Hannah added quietly. Rachel looked on in silence. Eventual y, Hannah spoke again. “I have since made some…inquiries. Things one is not supposed to ask about. Your influence at work, I’m sure.” Hannah smiled a bit, but the smile soon faded. “He has gotten right back into the queue, so to speak, every time. No time spent in Heaven to rest or reflect. Just gets right back in line for his next chance. He hasn’t had as many lives as some others, but…his life times have never been long. And despite his virtues, he has somehow always been terribly unlucky in love. He has always been on the side of the angels, as they say. But he has always died young. Sometimes in war, sometimes not…but always by the sword.” “Not this time,” Rachel said with an equally quiet but determined voice. Hannah smiled sadly. “Perhaps not,” she conceded. “He has protectors, and he isn’t helpless. Lorelei’s hold over him precludes so many possible deaths…she will keep him youthful and virile to a truly unfair age for a mortal. Your influence may even be a multiplier to that. But he has always died young,” she said again, “and always by the sword.” She turned to look Rachel in the eye. “The Archangel Michael asked me today, while you were off bickering with Vincent again, why this situation should be al owed to continue. I told him that at this point, I feel we owe it to Alex. I only hope, for his sake—and yours—that he finally has the long life full of love that he has always deserved. But even I do not know how to break such a pattern as I have seen.” Hannah extended her hand out to cover Rachel’s. “I don’t want to see you left with a broken heart because you have fall en in love with a mortal doomed to a tragically short life. I had hoped to protect you from such a thing.” A tear had formed in Rachel’s eye. “I think it’s too late for that,” she admitted. *

A week ago, Jocelyn would have given Alex the time of day, but not much more than that. She had little interest in him al through high school and middle school before it. When they shared classes, it was good to sit near him so she could occasionally borrow his notes or copy his homework, and class projects were always much easier when he was part of her group…but she’d never have considered going out with him. Now, however, he had her full attention. She sat up straight on the couch right next to him, only mildly conscious of the flirtatious way she pushed her chest forward. She wasn’t consciously aware of the way she was staring, though, or the fact that she would infrequently, subtly lick her lips, or turn her smooth, shapely mocha brown legs toward his. She was also aware that there were three other girls in the living room paying very close attention to him for clearly the same reason. Four, if one included Sherri’s earlier involvement, but the pretty hostess of the party had just been cal ed away to take care of some minor emergency or another. They were al essentially the prettiest girls Jocelyn had seen at the crowded party so far, too. Others were in the room as well , al part of the same conversation, though not al so obviously interested in holding Alex’s personal attention. There were a couple other girls and a couple of guys. That odd Emo boy-band-looking guy loomed intently in one corner, with his date now essentially ignoring him in favor of Alex. Jocelyn was at least unattached, though, and she had one other advantage over her competition. She had known Alex for, like, forever. Most everyone else in the living room were strangers. “I always knew you were brave,” Jocelyn smiled. “You were the one who stood up to that crazy sub we had in Spanish when she started giving people detention for sneezing.” “Oh, whatever. I was freaking out. I just didn’t want to get hauled away someplace to get shot in the head. So I got shot in the chest right there in the parking garage instead, ‘cause I’m bril iant like that,” Alex smirked wryly. “I heard you jumped in front of the gun to protect your friend,” said Brittany.

“That’s what I heard, too,” nodded Britney. “Wow, did you really do that?” asked Brittnee. Behind her tight-lipped smile, Jocelyn gritted her teeth. Three blondes with the same goddamn name but different spellings, she thought, and not a whole brain between them. I feel like I’m on a reality show. “No, she was out of the way from it,” Alex said, shaking his head. “She had tripped the other guy, too. It’s not like she was cowering behind me.” “Shit, I’d have shoved that gun up the dude’s ass,” snorted Tucker, seated on the couch that had been moved opposite Jocelyn and Alex. He was next to Britney with his arm around her. Britney didn’t seem to really notice her date anymore. Jocelyn wished Britney would, both to shut him up and to turn her away from Alex. “Right on,” agreed Tucker’s friend, some jock named Jimmy. “What’d you do after you got shot?” There was an odd tenor to his voice in that question. Jocelyn heard it, and turned to him with a bit of a scowl. It was as if Jimmy thought Alex getting shot was some failure on the part of her longtime friend and school buddy. “I pretty much fell down at that point,” Alex said dryly. “That’s kind of what happens usual y.” “Yeah, I guess maybe if you were a bigger guy you might stay on your feet,” Tucker shrugged. He was, of course, a bigger guy. His tone was also unmistakably dickish. Jocelyn glanced over at Alex, wondering what he’d say. She had already gotten the whole story from Taylor, which was why she’d brought it up in the first place. Jocelyn knew Alex was downplaying his heroics. She found his humble tel ing of it al adorable, but she bristled at the running commentary from the two guys suffering from penis envy. “Naw,” came a Southern drawl from behind Jimmy. “Size don’ matter much. Ah fell down when ah got shot, too, an’ ah’m bigger’n Alex.” Wade stood behind Tucker, Britney and Jimmy’s couch, wearing one of those plain gray tshirts marked “Army,” his John Deere bal cap and a smug grin. He had a beer bottle in his hand.