At least she wasn't the heir. As difficult as it would be for her, she couldn't begin to imagine what Duff would be up against with his family. She let out a whispered laugh. She never asked to be mated to a fae, but there was no point trying to deny it. Life was strange.
***
Chapter 2
Litha sat at the end of a long conference table and watched the head of the Metaphysics and Mysticism Department tong a couple of ice cubes into her glass before he refilled it with water. For the hundredth time that day she wished that she and Storm had never confided to The Order that she was able to slip dimensions because of her something more than half demon heritage.
Sure. She could be the key to answering thousands of questions. From the perspective of paranormal investigators, she was a walking treasure trove. She was also witnessing the signs of her worst nightmare unfolding. They were starting to treat her like property of The Order.
There wasn't much that was less fun than being stuck in a room full of academics in Edinburgh while Storm was half a world away. He'd been summoned to Jefferson Unit. Well, he hadn't actually been summoned, but when his old boss asked to see him, it amounted to the same thing.
She had dropped him off at the New Jersey facility that morning. He had joked that her unusual abilities lent a whole new meaning to the question, "Can I get a ride?"
Storm had suggested that they use the opportunity to take a well-needed break, that she should join him as soon as she finished the current inquiry. Or "inquisition" as she called it. He said they could have a weekend in New York, then go home to the vineyard and regroup. She smiled, remembering that he had leaned into her ear and added, "... in bed," in a breathy whisper that never failed to give her visible shivers and make her ni**les bead.
"Mrs. Storm?"
Her thoughts came back to the room, where seven faces were staring and waiting for a reply. "I'm sorry. Could you please repeat the question?"
"Of course. When you said you visited one dimension where they've been doing organic hybrid experiments for so long that there are no full humans..."
"Yes?"
"We're wondering what kind of hybrids have been developed?"
"Animal-human hybrids." It took every bit of patience she could muster to keep from shouting, "Duh!" at the end of that answer.
She glanced at her watch, as she was starting to wonder what she was getting out of her work with The Order. Their pay-off was obvious, but she was beginning to question her role. A quick assessment told her that she was beginning to feel less like an employee or associate and more like a victim. Something needed to change.
Another hour and she'd be gone. What a shame. She used to love her work. As far as she was concerned she was not only done with the questions and answers. She was well done and well on the way to being burned to a crisp.
When Litha had dropped Storm at Jefferson Unit that morning, she took him to Sol's office, partly to keep from causing a stir by materializing in the middle of some high-traffic area like the hub, and partly because one of the best things about emerging from a pass near a Black Swan facility was startling the codgers: Sol and Simon.
It was a joke that just couldn't be repeated so often that it wasn't funny anymore. Litha stayed long enough to make sure Sol hadn't had a heart attack, left her gorgeous husband with a big smile on his face, and vanished.
Storm turned to Sol, who was a little miffed about spilling room temperature coffee all over the front of his gray slacks in a pattern that would raise eyebrows. Sol scowled at the still-chuckling Storm, while dabbing his thighs with paper towels.
The very hour that Storm had announced his retirement - in person - the character of his relationship with the Sovereign had changed and transformed to friendship. On one level it felt like the most natural thing in the world to interact with Sol like he was a peer. Just two veteran knights sharing a coffee. On the other hand, it felt like the strangest thing in the world to have his recruiter, mentor, and former boss relax his demeanor and treat Storm like a peer.
When Sol decided that he had done as much as could be done with the pants, short of sending them to dry cleaning, he motioned for Storm to sit.
"Coffee?"
For a moment Storm wondered if that was a trick question. If he said yes, would he end up with room temperature coffee all over his lap? He decided that Sol was far too staid and mature for that sort of petty payback. And he was right.
"Sure."
Sol picked up the phone and asked for a coffee service for two to be served in the conference room, then moved the meeting next door. He recognized that sitting behind his desk skewed the dynamic in a direction that wouldn't be conducive to his purpose, part of which was to relax his guest. Talking to Storm from the authority side of a desk would suggest an unnecessary formality that would remind them both that, until relatively recently, Storm had had no choice but to do whatever Sol commanded. At least in theory.
Next door in the conference room, Sol motioned to two tufted leather club chairs that sat opposite the wall of windows with a small table between.
When they were seated, he asked, "So. How have you been?"
The inquiry was innocuous, but it gave Storm pause. In fifteen years, Sol had never asked how he was or how he'd been. It took a moment to absorb the oddity of the experience and, in the process, raised a hint of suspicion regarding the Sovereign's motives.
"No complaints. How about you?" Sol nodded without looking up from his coffee, acknowledging Storm's answer, but saying nothing more. After a lag that was starting to feel awkward, Storm ventured further. "Sooooo. You asked to see me?"
Sol brought his eyes up to look Storm in the face. Actually look was probably not the right word. Sol more scrutinized people than looked at them.