Good Intentions (45 page)

* “The truth is that this city and its environs are lousy with supernaturals,” said the suited man with the perfectly trimmed white goatee. “Werewolves in the rural areas. Plenty of legitimately haunted sites. At least half a dozen different Practices within the city alone…my group is trying to bring some organization to that, but I’m sure you know how occultists can be. And of course there are al the vampires,” he added with a bit of a rol of the eyes. The distinguished gentleman sat back in his plush chair, putting on airs of comfort and security. Behind that great oaken desk, with a bodyguard at either side—one of them small and serene, the other stocky and solemn—he probably felt quite secure indeed. Being a sorcerer, Stefan likely knew warding magicks. If he did not, surely an associate did. Otherwise he’d have been on his knees by now, sniffing at Lydia’s hand and begging for her affections. She sat in a chair directly across from his in the sorcerer’s office overlooking El iott Bay. To an untrained, unfamiliar eye, the room would seem to be a fairly predictable yet tasteful corporate executive’s office. Lydia, however, could sense the wards and could spot the tel tale signs of superstitious protections from spirits and faeries, al of them applied with knowledge and understanding. He was protected from her most potent abilities. That was what made dealing with his kind so frustrating. But he was still a man, and Lydia didn’t miss his occasional glance toward the cleavage revealed by her emerald jacket and the long, shapely legs that came out from under her short matching silk skirt. Nor did he seem to mind her smile at al . “I imagine it gets a bit tiresome,” she conceded. “In most cities it isn’t so hard for everyone to avoid one another.” “No, indeed it normally isn’t,” Stefan nodded. “This city is deceptively small , though. Oddly crowded. We tend to bump into one another before long. Though I confess, one such as yourself is quite the exceptional and unique

encounter.” “One such as I,” Lydia smiled with some amusement. “I thought the Brotherhood of Apol o considered an ‘encounter’ with ‘one such as I’ to be both a rite of passage and a test of will power. A summoning and a night’s pleasure to test one’s emotional fortitude, isn’t it? The strong master their desires, the weak fall to the temptations of demonic flesh?” Stefan inclined his head in a conciliatory nod. “I won’t deny what is plainly known to the both of us.” “And how many such exceptional and unique encounters have you had, Stefan?” Lydia teased. He paused, looking at her evenly. “A few.” “I’l let you in on a little secret, since you’ve been so cordial and kind,” the blonde told him. “There are playthings from the Pit, and then there are succubae. The differences are quite unforgettable.” Stefan was quiet again for a moment, but eventually he nodded. “I’l take that under consideration,” he said. “It’s a shame that you couldn’t have come to me first with your concerns. But it’s understandable how things turned out. Lady Anastacia’s faction is, admittedly, the most prominent in the city.” “Bringing the rest of the natives to heel, is she?” “We’ve worked out some arrangements,” Stefan shrugged. “Of late she has tried to establish a more formalized governance reaching beyond the vampires. Naturally I hesitate to concede anything too soon. Your appearance throws quite the willd card in al of this.” Lydia’s smile became a bit tighter. “I have made my offer to the corpses. I will honor it should they fullfil the requirements I set. But I offered no exclusivity. I care not how your local power struggles play out. Provide what I seek and you, too, will hold my favor.” Her offer had plenty of layers of meaning. Stefan was erudite enough to catch them al . “This young man you seek is not one of the Practitioners we have identified,” he began, “and not anyone directly affiliated with us. Nor can I speak

directly to the activities of the woman you seek, but after some consultations we have reason to believe that she is likely a succubus like yourself.” Stefan smiled at Lydia’s arched eyebrow. “We haven’t shared that suspicion with Lady Anastacia’s people yet. still , I don’t think I’m giving away any great secret when I say that our actual knowledge regarding your kind is rather limited… “…except for one specialist, but he has recently perished.” Lydia inclined her head attentively. “Go on.” “As you say, there is a great difference between random demonic playthings and succubae. We of the Brotherhood of Apol o know better than to plumb too deeply in our dealings with the Pit. There was one local Brother, though, who took a rather obsessive interest in such things. He had mastered the task of summonings and conjurations for pleasure, but his appetites were never fullly sated. He always wanted more. He believed he was on his way to creating a ritual that would establish a permanent hold after a summoning. He made requests for support and funding. Our council decided to indulge him up to a point, largely out of intel ectual curiosity. It became clear that this Brother had let his lusts get the better of him. We had to let him go. “What fol owed was a typical megalomaniac’s rant. He would continue on, he would show us al . This was nearly three years ago. We kept a subtle eye on him, of course. From time to time we saw evidence that he was continuing is research. “Then last week, he died along with two associates in a sudden conflagration. We had no direct observation on hand, but there were spirits of the restless dead in the vicinity. The area was thoroughly warded, and thus they could only observe from afar. A couple of them described a young man matching the description you have provided in the immediate area moments before this former Brother’s death.” Lydia said nothing, merely encouraging Stefan to continue with a nod. “We have investigated somewhat, though admittedly not much. It seemed obvious to us initially that this former Brother had summoned something beyond his control and paid the natural price for overreaching. But then we received word of your search from Lady Anastacia. A curiously ordinary young man, a woman whom we now know is likely a succubus like yourself…”

“It is a rather curious connection,” Lydia nodded. “Would you be will ing to tel me al the details?” “I would,” Stefan said, “and I would be will ing to work with you further on resolving whatever concerns you have.” “What would you want in exchange?” “A few things. A pact of non-aggression between the Brotherhood and yourself and whatever demonic faction you may represent. Secondly, we wish to know what happened to our fall en former Brother, and we wish to know how far he had gotten in his work. Moreover, we wish to know where he went wrong. I realize this might seem presumptuous, given what he was attempting. I won’t deny that if he was truly onto something we will likely pursue it. However, I would be more than will ing to take steps to reassure you that any such knowledge would not be used against you or anyone you might name.” Lydia’s smile became genuinely appreciative. “I was about to laugh, but your caveats and concessions are interesting. And amusing. You are correct in that I would not be interested in helping you learn how to summon me.” “Of course,” Stefan nodded. “But I believe we could come to an understanding.” He flashed a friendly, cordial smile. “These are clearly very dangerous waters. We have no wish to make enemies.” “Indeed not. Your offer interests me. Stefan, I realize that this room bears numerous wards, but in order to pursue your proposal further I will require a brief consultation with an associate. The telephone simply won’t do. Would it be possible to open one of these windows momentarily?” Stefan considered it for a long moment. “I suppose a momentary breach would not be so great a concession,” he mused. Stefan then nodded to the bodyguard on his left. Obediently, he moved to the tal window. He tugged the latches open and pushed on the glass. Cold, damp air blew in, not so much as to create a great wind but enough to get everyone’s attention. For a moment, nothing happened. Stefan waited patiently for whatever little homunculus or other servitor might come flying through the window. Lydia, too, waited patiently.

The huge, taloned, bone-white hand—if one could cal it that—which slapped down on the next pane of glass up from the open window startled al three men in the room. The hand was attached to a similarly bone-white arm that descended from above. Another reached down past it, gripping the window. What fol owed was a monstrosity the likes of which Stefan and his bodyguards had never seen. It swiftly crawled along the glass, impossibly clinging to the windows like a spider as it descended. Twice the mass of a man yet spread out into long, bony limbs, the thing twisted and wrenched itself under the open window, shoving it further open to make room for its oblong, stretched-out white head. Four glaring red eyes gazed out at Stefan and Lydia from the front of its strange, horned skul . Its arms and then shoulders fol owed, one and then the other, before it finally pul ed itself through the window. Each of its digits ended in a vicious talon. It had a long white tail that whipped around like a cat’s, also ending in a set of nasty spikes. There were wings there, too, Stefan realized, but it was al just thin, chalky flesh hanging from folded, seemingly crumbling bones. The thing crouched at Lydia’s side, still five feet tal at the shoulders despite the way it more or less folded its torso down to meet its squatting legs. It looked to Stefan and his bodyguards, who nervously reached for concealed weapons, as if it were about to pounce. Instead, the thing reached out with one very long arm to close the window. “There have been angels in the skies,” it said in something akin to the echo of a roar. The demon’s speech gave Stefan a moment to see its mouth, which was naturally fil ed with row upon row of gleaming black teeth shaped much like a shark’s. Its eyes narrowed in something that seemed rather like a frown. “One of them very strange. Best not to be careless. We wouldn’t want them eavesdropping.” “Stefan,” Lydia smiled, “meet Harrow.” *

“You are wellcome, my love,” Lorelei murmured into Alex’s ear. His face split into a self-conscious smile. Her words broke his aimless stare at the ceiling of the darkened suite. Once again, Alex lay on his back in the bed, with Taylor curled up against him over his left arm and Lorelei laying against him on the right. It was enough body heat that they had kicked off al but one thin bed sheet. “I might have to thank you a lot more for this tomorrow,” he said. He kept his voice low. Taylor was sound asleep, having been driven to grateful exhaustion by the other two. She kissed his neck. “Sleep, love. We will see what tomorrow holds.” * Scipio had been on the wrong side of everything in his whole life. He was on the wrong side of his family, and so he joined the Legions rather than fol owing in the family business. He was on the wrong side of his centurion in Gaul, having shown too much leniency on the natives after they’d been crushed in battle. He came home to find himself on the wrong side of his wife for having plundered so poorly—again, a result of his being too merciful toward a conquered people. He was also on the wrong side of his wife’s lover. That she had taken one had been a shock, but in hindsight, it shouldn’t have been a surprise. She was always too good to be true. In the chaos of Caesar’s return and the mess that fol owed, Scipio’s wife brought him down a dark al ey where her lover and several other men were waiting for him. He woke up on the wrong side of the cages in the slave market, where a minor aristocrat named Opilio bought him.

A year later, he was on the wrong side of the owner’s vil a when fellix and his men arrived to speak with Opilio about certain debts. fellix—Scipio didn’t know the rest of his name and didn’t care—tended to handle such discussions in a very frightening and physical manner. So did his men. Roman slaves were expected to defend their masters, even to the death. A couple of Opilio’s slaves were silly enough to have done just that, and they paid the natural price. Scipio did not. He remained in the pantry where he had been upon fellix’s arrival and pretended not to hear Opilio’s pleas or his cries. Scipio felt no loyalty to the arrogant, degrading fop. Opilio should have known better than to get mixed up with such rough individuals. Al Scipio wanted was his freedom and a fresh start. Revenge on his wife and her lover might have been nice, but a new life with a genuinely decent woman would be nicer. He might have gained that from Opilio if he worked hard enough and showed enough loyalty…but not loyalty like this. This was just a fine mess. Opilio was a fool to have gotten himself into it, and there was no hope for Scipio if he should get mixed up in it, too. He pretended not to hear Opilio’s troubles, but then he heard Opilio’s daughter scream. He heard Opilio beg for mercy for Marciana, which was entirely the wrong thing to say to a man like fellix when he was angry. Marciana had played no role in Opilio’s troubles. Scipio got to his feet. He grimly headed straight into the wrong side of the mess. In the doorway, he saw Julian. They had fought together in Gaul. Julian looked up in surprise to see his old comrade in a slave’s tunic. He opened his mouth to say something. Julian had always been quick with his blade, but he was much quicker with his mouth. Whatever he said, Scipio didn’t listen. There was a crying girl to drown it out, anyway. Scipio snatched the gladius out of its scabbard on Julian’s belt. Julian naturally raised his right hand to throw a punch, but Scipio caught it at the wrist. With a single, precise swing, he hacked through Julian’s arm at the elbow. Julian screamed. Scipio slammed the pommel of the sword into his nose, shoving him out of the way. There were two men inside, plus Opilio (who hardly counted as a man in Scipio’s opinion) and fellix. Marciana was there, held down on a table by one of fellix’s men while another held a club around Opilio’s throat. fellix stood naked, his tunic

only just now removed. He was momentarily dumbfounded. They al were. fellix, therefore, was something of a gift from Mars. Scipio put the gladius through his throat before he even had a moment to cry out. The others were on their feet then. The one restraining Opilio gave up his grip on the foppish man and lunged for Scipio. Opilio was a bit of an obstacle; the thug’s lunge was made awkward by the flailing, whimpering aristocrat stumbling in front of him, and thus his first blow was easily parried. Before he had his balance again, Scipio grabbed him by the shirt and ran him through. The last was around the table by the time this happened, but then lurched back. Scipio turned to him and just stared. The thug turned to flee, but Scipio caught up to him before he got to the door. He finished him off in the doorway, and Julian as well . In the stunned moments of silence that fol owed, Scipio saw to Marciana’s shaking condition. He spoke to her in calm, measured tones, reassuring her that this would not happen again. fellix was gone. His men were gone. Her father would resolve the debts. He was on the wrong side of Opilio in that moment. The aristocrat rose behind him with the club that had been used to hold him. Opilio would have loved to reward Scipio, but Scipio was a slave who had kil ed free Romans. Additional y, Opilio needed a scapegoat for what had just happened. Someone had to take the blame for kil ing five men in the midst of a friendly visit between business partners. Opilio didn’t want Scipio to be on the wrong side of the necessary explanations. Chapter 15