So Storm and his parents signed the contract. He gave his mother a big hug and tried not to notice how hard she was working to keep the moisture in her eyes from spilling over. He was already two inches taller and could look down on her when she wasn’t wearing heels. He was more trouble than the other two put together... more trouble to the third power. Even so, although she would never admit it even to herself, he was her favorite.
He stowed the half-filled duffel in the trunk of Nemamiah’s understated black sedan and waved to his parents who were standing in the front yard watching him drive away. He had just turned fourteen.
They drove south toward San Francisco. Nemamiah wasn’t big on small talk, but he told Storm he was welcome to listen to whatever radio station he liked. He then rolled the driver's side window part way down and lit a little, thin, black cigar.
They kept driving until they reached the naval base at Treasure Island. They were headed for the compound in the middle surrounded by a twenty-foot wall. They passed three checkpoints where guards recognized Nemamiah and waved him through. As they passed a gorgeous old graceful mansion with lawns and tennis courts, Nemamiah said it had once been an Admiral’s home, but that it was being used for the school now, that Storm would eat and enjoy leisure time there.
They parked next to a brick building, opened the door with a key card, and entered a long dormitory-style hallway. Each door had a nameplate. When they stopped mid way to the end, Storm looked at the door. The nameplate said Engel Storm.
He reached up to run his fingers over the lettering. “Wow. You must have been pretty sure I’d come.”
Nemamiah didn’t smile, but his eyes did soften just a touch. “We’ve been doing this for a long time, Mr. Storm. We know what we’re looking for.” He turned the knob and swung the door open. “And you’re it.”
Elora got up early enough to take Blackie out for a run. She put him on leash, thanked the doorman for his cheerful, "Good morn'" and started jogging down Princes Street to the east. The north entrance to Calton Hill was rarely used because the ascent by small, paved trail was a straight up heart attack waiting to happen even for young legs. But it was exactly the sort of workout Elora and Blackie needed. So they ran up.
When they reached the top, Elora unsnapped the leash and pulled a tennis ball out of her fanny pack. When Blackie saw it, he was so excited that he spun round in circles so fast he looked like a Tasmanian devil. She threw it toward the other side of the park and laughed out loud to see how joyfully he tore after it. They played in the park for the better part of an hour, then jogged back.
Elora's hair was still damp from showering when she joined the others at breakfast which, for her, was a fruit cup, cranberry scone and hot chocolate.
They were to get a complete tour of the building before lunch and a little orientation on the old part of Edinburgh just outside the front door. Elora had seen a little of that the night before.
B Team was assembled for their private lunch in the room that had been set aside for their exclusive use. Director Tvelgar, who had asked to be called Simon, was in attendance. The War Room was a lovely large space. It held an oblong table for eight, suitable for work, conference, or eating. The wall behind featured a large screen monitor flanked by electronic pen screen boards on either side. The rest was furnished with comfortably plush lounge seating. There was a small bar with complete coffee service, a small, but well stocked refrigerator, and a quarter bath for the sake of convenience.
An inviting buffet lunch had been set out on the bar. When Litha arrived, Storm had just gotten up to serve himself. As she breezed up to him, he turned to look down into deep green eyes enhanced by the matching green of her lightweight and clingy cashmere sweater. She was wearing a shin length, A-line skirt that fell into a drape swishing around her legs with a captivating femininity, and flat heeled shoes that gave her movement the grace of dance in progress.
"Hi," she said in an American accent. "I'm Litha Brandywine."
He got a flash impression of dark clouds rushing by on the wind. Before he could stop himself he said, "You smell like a rainstorm."
As Litha looked up into Storm's handsome face, her red, bow-shaped lips formed a bewitching smile. "What a nice compliment!" she said in a voice that was naturally sultry without affectation. "There’s nothing more wonderful. Something about the rumble of thunder that’s so primal, so carnal. It’s the ultimate turn on. Add the smell of a rain storm coming and you have a witch’s dream.”
Storm wanted to look away, but seemed to be hypnotized by the illusion of tiny little flames dancing in her eyes. He shook himself internally, wondering if he had heard right. Did she just say carnal at the exact same moment his dick twitched in his pants in response to that smile?
"I'm not looking for a relationship," he blurted. He was thinking it must be a day for wondering because now he was also wondering what had happened to the simple security of having a mouth that cooperated with his brain. He was the kind of guy who liked control. Everything about the idea of his tongue going rogue was disturbing on a cellular level.
Having heard his part of the exchange, since he had added volume to the force of the proclamation, everybody in the room had stopped what they were doing and turned to look at him with a giant unspoken, "What the hell?" on their faces.
Litha's expression never changed. Nor did she miss a beat. She acted like his out-of-left-field comment was the most natural thing in the world. The beauty of her poise and composure bore through the stunned haze of Storm's humiliating behavior long enough for him to register that Litha Brandywine was extraordinary. Even the tease of her smile had never wavered.
"Oh," she said lightly, "I hadn't realized I was planning our wedding out loud."
That broke the tension and drew a few muffled chuckles, but Storm's friends were still regarding him with a question mark. The fact that she was so unflappable while he was acting like a dunderhead was annoying.
Simon came to the rescue and interjected: "Litha is here in the capacity of tracker. She's on loan from Magicks for the purpose of helping you isolate targets."
"Witch?" Elora asked.
"Best we've got," answered Simon. "You know, Storm, Litha's also from wine country."
Litha tore her gaze away from Storm, who was still staring at her and wondering what had happened. She glanced around the room at everyone present and nodded as she set her things down next to Elora. "Yes indeed. Cock Bay."
Elora’s eyes widened at the remark.
"Sorry." Litha chuckled. "It's just a little bit of local color. Back in the fifties Alfred Hitchcock filmed a movie called 'The Birds' at Bodega Bay. Since it's our only claim to fame, the locals started calling it Hitchcock Bay. Eventually it got shortened."
Elora smiled. "Oh. I just assumed there must be a unit of Black Swan knights there."
Ram snickered and grinned at her like he couldn't be more proud.