by Linda Howard
She had been staying right with him, shadowing his every movement, and never getting more than a step away from him. She took the menu and looked through it, then gave it back to him. “I’m unfamiliar with these foods,” she said. “Choose for me.”
“Pancakes!” Elijah shouted. “And French toast! And bacon. I want lots of bacon. And chocolate milk. Where are we going? Can we go to IHOP? I love IHOP.”
Lenna put her hand on his arm, calming him down from what looked like a fit of ecstasy. “Perhaps you shouldn’t hop in here,” she suggested. “We don’t want to disturb anyone.”
Elijah gave her a bewildered look. “I wasn’t hopping.”
Rather than go into any explanation, Caine said, “We aren’t going anywhere. I’m going to order room service.” Delirious. He’d been injured during his last mission and was now delirious, and none of this existed except in his fevered imagination. That was the only explanation.
Except his growing hunger was very real, robbing him of the mild comfort of his musings.
Two pairs of eyes turned toward him. “What is this room service?” Lenna asked in interest.
“We aren’t going to IHOP?” Elijah asked, beginning to pout.
Caine narrowed his eyes at the kid. “Hunters don’t pout. Hunters make the best of every situation, turning it to their advantage.” To Lenna he said, “Room service means our food will be brought to us here.”
“Ah. Food is always brought to me, though I’ve never heard it called this.”
Of course food was always brought to her. She was a Major Arcana, waited on hand and foot for the entirety of her existence. The differences in their lives were starkly drawn. He couldn’t say he’d never been waited on; he had a couple of delicious memories of lying naked with a woman and feeding each other, but that wasn’t in the same category as being treated like royalty every day of his life. He wasn’t afforded service; he was afforded fear.
All in all, he thought he preferred fear; having everything done for him, everything provided to him, wasn’t at all appealing. He liked the rough, adventurous life of a Hunter.
Sighing, he called room service and ordered pretty much everything: pancakes, French toast, bacon, eggs, regular toast, fruit, juice, chocolate milk, and coffee—service for three. The à la carte orders would cost a small fortune, but maybe the kid would be happy, eat, and be quiet for a while.
Delivery of the food took half an hour; when the room service waiter wheeled in the cart loaded with dishes, Elijah stared wide-eyed for all of about two seconds, then he began bombarding the waiter with questions: how many people ordered their food that way, did he always have to wear a suit, what were those round things—“Domes to cover the food and keep it warm,” Caine interjected, because the waiter was looking around for round things—what time did he come to work, did he have any kids, and had he watched Captain America?
The waiter was a champ. “Lots, yes, six a.m., no, and yes,” he rattled off with a grin. “Is Captain America your favorite?”
“Almost,” Elijah said. “But I like Iron Man, too. He’s got a magic suit and can zoom around. Hunters don’t need magic suits, though—”
Lenna put her hand on Elijah’s arm, interrupting him before he could start talking about poofing, and earning Caine’s gratitude because he’d been thinking about clamping his hand over the kid’s mouth. “Would you like to begin with pancakes?” she asked, diverting him to the food.
Caine signed the ticket and added a hefty tip. As soon as the door had closed behind the waiter he said to Elijah, “You must be careful not to tell other people about what Hunters can do.”
The big brown eyes blinked solemnly. “Is it a secret?”
“Yes. An important one.” It wasn’t, but not being noticed made navigating this plane less complicated.
Lenna having to stay close to Caine complicated matters; they had to move together to the table, and she couldn’t separate from him to get Elijah settled. Luckily, when it came to food, the kid didn’t need shepherding. He climbed into a chair, curling one leg beneath him so he was sitting higher, and surveyed the array of dome-covered plates. “Which one is mine?”
“Almost all of them,” Caine replied.
Lenna briefly hesitated, then distributed the three plates and silverware. Probably that was the first time in her life she’d ever served anyone else; reluctantly Caine admitted that she was handling herself with more grace than he’d have anticipated, considering how long it had been since the Major Arcana had been able to visit other worlds.
She picked up the carton of chocolate milk, studied it with interest, then murmured, “Open here,” and with only one false start popped open the spout. As she was pouring the milk into a glass for Elijah, Caine took care of the coffee, filling cups for both him and Lenna.
They all sat down, and Lenna somewhat cautiously tried the coffee. She didn’t exactly grimace, but Caine could tell she didn’t care for the beverage. “Try putting milk and sugar in it,” he suggested, pushing the two items toward her. “It won’t be so bitter then. Or try the orange juice instead.” He indicated the small carafe of juice; he knew from the Emperor that she enjoyed studying other worlds, but he didn’t know how extensive her knowledge of minutiae was.
She shook her head, and waited as Caine filled Elijah’s plate with his requested items and drenched them with syrup, then added a couple slices of bacon. The kid began eating as if he were starving, and Caine turned his attention to Lenna. He didn’t want to serve her, but found himself offering her each plate and explaining what every item was, as well as the seasonings or toppings she should try. She willingly tried them all, though she took only a small amount of each.
No one went hungry, though. The kid ate more than he and Lenna combined, a fact which seemed to amuse her.
When they were all fed, Elijah turned on the television and stretched out on the couch to watch. Caine lingered over a second cup of coffee, turning the current situation over in his mind and examining all angles. No matter how he turned it, though, he kept coming back to one unwelcome fact: Lenna wasn’t willing to leave the boy, and he couldn’t teleport her without the Alexandria Deck, the location of which she refused to tell him until she’d done what she could for Elijah. Therefore, Caine had to join in that effort, and turn his not inconsiderable talents toward resolving the problem.
He set down the empty cup and got to his feet. Lenna immediately rose, too, mindful of his order to stay close to him. He’d much prefer sending her to the other room so he could handle the kid without her interference, but that wasn’t an option.
Great. Another group effort.
Caine leaned down, took the remote from Elijah, and turned off the television. The cartoon the kid had been watching was annoying, anyway. The high-pitched voices, the bright colors and unnatural movements of the characters … It was maddening to a Hunter for whom no sight or noise was ever entirely in the background.
“Hey!” Elijah said, jumping up off the couch. “You turned off the TV!”
A Hunter used whatever weapon was available, so … “Hunters don’t watch that crap,” Caine said. If the kid thought he was a Hunter-in-training, maybe he’d give up the cartoon without much protest.
“Crap is a bad word,” Elijah said, but he perched on the edge of the couch and worked up a serious expression.
Lenna murmured a slightly amused, “Yes, it is.” She stood right behind Caine, so close he could feel the heat from her body. Her constant nearness, the scent and warmth—and damn, even the air felt softer around her—were chaffing at him, making him feel as if his clothing had tiny spikes embedded in the cloth. He could not get this done soon enough.
“We have work to do.” Caine planted himself in front of the kid, crossed his arms over his chest, and looked down. Elijah craned his head to look up, narrowing one eye. If he was intimidated, it didn’t show.
“Where can I find Uncle Bobby?”
Elijah shrugged his shoulders.
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��What is his full name?”
“Uncle Bobby.”
“Caine, this is …”
He held up a hand to silence Lenna, and—will wonders never cease—she was silenced.
Frustration flared hotter within him, snaking its way through his body like a physical invasion. “Bob something?” he prodded. “Or perhaps Robert? This man must have a last name. Surely you heard it at some point. Think back.”
“Nope.” The child seemed supremely unconcerned by his lack of knowledge.
So, Elijah didn’t know the man’s last name. That was a problem, but it wasn’t the worst problem Caine had ever encountered. “Where does he work? Where does he live?”
Again, the answer was a maddening shrug of little shoulders.
Caine turned to glare at Lenna. “In a metropolitan area that’s home to five million or more humans, how can you expect me to find a man with the name ‘Bobby’ and nothing else?” he snapped.
“Uncle Bobby,” Elijah corrected from behind him. “His car is gray, does that help?”
“No.” Caine shoved his hand through his hair. How many tens of thousands of gray or silver cars were in the Atlanta metro area?
“There’s no need to interrogate the child as if he were the criminal,” Lenna said in a soft voice, but her gaze was accusing.
“Uncle Bobby isn’t a Maj—he isn’t like you. I can’t find him just by focusing on energy. Do you have any other ideas?”
“No,” she admitted.
He wanted to believe that the kid was spinning a tale, that there was no Uncle Bobby, or if there was, his mother had run away with him and left the kid behind. It was an ugly truth that kids were left behind all the time, in this world and in others.
But Elijah and Lenna had been threatened, and that wasn’t a coincidence. Lenna herself seemed sure of the child’s tale, and while he might not necessarily believe a kid as young as Elijah, he did believe her.
“The man downstairs said I look like you,” Elijah said, drawing Caine’s attention away from Lenna. “Do I?”
The kid’s attention jumped around like a rabbit. Caine looked over his shoulder at him. “No.”
The kid didn’t give up. “My hair and eyes look like yours, don’t they? A lot of my friends look like their dads—some of them, anyway. I don’t have a dad. Is there any more chocolate milk?”
Caine was speechless. Where to begin? What did he address first, the chocolate milk issue or genetics or—
Lenna saved him, moving around him to sit beside Elijah on the couch. She took the little boy’s hand and held on. “It’s important that you tell Caine everything you remember about Uncle Bobby. How else are we to find and punish him?”
“All I know is he’s old and ugly and mean and he killed my mom. I always called him Uncle Bobby, but sometimes Mom called him Robert. He gave me a Christmas present, but I don’t want it anymore. It’s … it’s crap!” He shot Caine a defiant look as he forcefully uttered the so-called bad word. Then he wrinkled his nose, said, “I have to pee!” and jumped up from the couch to run to the bathroom.
Caine sighed and sat beside Lenna. He rubbed his head; he never had headaches, but damn if the kid wasn’t giving him a major one. No, to be fair, it wasn’t just the kid; it was the entire situation. He studied her with narrowed eyes, both angry and aroused. He needed some space from her, but he couldn’t have it, not if he wanted to continue to shield her. And he did; not only was he committed to a successful end to his mission, he didn’t want to see her dead by a Hunter’s knife.
“Now what?” he asked, scowling.
She placed a hand on his knee. “Be gentle with Elijah. He’s been traumatized, and he’s so young he doesn’t know much of the world.”
“We can leave him—”
“No,” she said sharply, lifting her hand. “We can’t leave him, anywhere. He can’t identify Uncle Bobby, not without seeing him face-to-face, but Uncle Bobby can identify him. We make Elijah an easy target if we abandon him.”
Caine growled. You’d think Elijah was her own kid, the way she looked out for him. Why? His life, the life of any human, was no more than a blink of an eye to any one of the Major Arcana. They touched this world, they influenced the people here, but it was unheard of for them to develop emotional attachments. That’s exactly what this was: emotion.
Emotion wasn’t rational, but still he tried to appeal to her common sense—assuming she had any. No, that was unfair. The truth was that he was annoyed by her opposition, and by the knowledge that, being who she was, she wasn’t likely to change her mind. “There are ways to keep him hidden. I’m not proposing that we leave him alone, to fend for himself. Take me to the deck. Let me return you to Aeonia where you’ll be safe, and I swear, I’ll return and see to the boy. You have my word.”
She completely ignored that proposition. “A few days, that is all I ask,” she said, her voice calm and deceptively reasonable. “I know I have to go home. I understand the importance of my presence in Aeonia. But Elijah pulled me into this world with his plea for help, and I can’t simply hand him over to someone else. Not even to you. I don’t doubt your capabilities.” Her chin jutted out a bit and her gaze went cool. “I do, however, doubt your commitment to Elijah.”
The expression on Caine’s face mirrored what Lenna herself felt. Frustration, anger, worry. Neither of them were desperate—not yet, anyway.
She had to return to Aeonia; there was no other option. Moreover, she wanted to go home. If the Hunter couldn’t transport her there within the allotted time frame, her world would cease to exist. She wouldn’t allow that to happen. As much as she cared for Elijah, she couldn’t sacrifice an entire world to personally see to his well-being. In a few days, if they didn’t make progress, she would have no choice but to reassemble the Alexandria Deck and allow Caine to take her home. She wasn’t about to tell Caine that, though; he’d immediately conclude all he had to do was keep her shielded until she was forced to go home. She wanted him actively trying to solve Elijah’s problem, because no one in the universe was more ferocious in achieving their ends than a Hunter.
She wondered if the Emperor would be satisfied with that plan. And what about the Tower? Her time here was unprecedented, and she had no way of communicating with the others. Perhaps they could look in on her, perhaps they could see, but she was blind. She didn’t know if or when they might be watching, and she didn’t know if they could hear. Even if they were—Caine was shielding her. Could they see through that power? Did the Emperor know what Veton had done?
The Hunter who had tried to kill her had said she could be replaced. Was that possible? The Major Arcana was as it had always been, complete and powerful. There had been a time when they’d traveled to other worlds, before the deck had been lost, and while a few had been slightly injured during their adventures, none had ever died.
If she died, how would another Strength be chosen? What effect would there be on the worlds touched by the power of the Major Arcana? Would her death be as disastrous as if her time here went beyond the allowed five days?
She had so many questions, and no clear answers.
The door to the bathroom opened, and Elijah shot out, headed for the couch. He stopped halfway, braced himself, squatted slightly, made two fists, closed his eyes, and grunted.
“No!” Caine said explosively, surging to his feet. “Go back to the bathroom! Don’t—you’re too old. You’re not wearing diapers!”
Lenna stared up at him, her mouth falling open. What? What was wrong? She didn’t understand.
Elijah opened his eyes and made a sound of disgust. “I’m not pooping in my pants! I’m not a little baby. I was trying to disappear and then appear somewhere else, like you did. No one ever taught me how. I didn’t even know it was something grown-ups could do! I thought I’d just, you know, try it and see what happened.”
Caine sat back down, rubbed his face, pinched between his eyes. “You can’t teleport. You are hu—”
Lenna interrupted
. “You’re much too young.” When she and Caine left this world, Elijah would necessarily be left behind. The less he knew of who they were and what they could do, the easier his new life would be. Eventually he would forget some of what he’d seen, and the rest, the rest he would relegate to the back of his mind as a faulty remembrance or perhaps even a dream. The less specific they were, the better.
Elijah accepted her explanation, and with a burst of speed rushed at the couch—and launched himself into Caine’s lap.
He landed with force and flying arms and legs. A startled Caine grunted, then looked at her with an easy to read “help me” expression on his hard face.
Hunters didn’t deal with children. Lenna knew little of the Hunter species; she wasn’t even sure Caine had once been a child, though she suspected he had been, a very long time ago. She was somewhat bemused that he expected her to have more experience than he; he did remember that she was Major Arcana, didn’t he?
Elijah leaned backward and looked upside down at Lenna. “If I can’t poof, will you at least teach me how to make the magic light?”
“I’m afraid you are too young for that, as well.”
The boy frowned, frustrated in all his efforts to learn a power but determined not to give up. “Will you teach me, when I’m not too young?”
“If I can.”
With a sigh, Elijah rested his head on Caine’s chest. The Hunter lifted both his big, hard hands in a helpless movement, then he sighed and placed one hand on the boy’s back.
Elijah yawned. “I’m kind of tired,” he said. “I’m too old for naps, but sometimes I get sleepy, anyway.” His eyes drifted shut, then he jerked awake and turned his head to look pleadingly at Lenna. “Don’t leave me while I’m asleep.”
“I won’t,” she said gently.
He tipped his head back to look at Caine. “You don’t go anywhere, either.”
All manner of expressions flashed over the Hunter’s face, none of which Lenna hoped Elijah could read. After a short pause, Caine said, “I’ll be right here when you wake.” He glanced at Lenna as Elijah burrowed in and closed his eyes again. “Where else would I be?”