Guardian's Patience, page 9
part #5 of Guardians of the Race Series
Half-truths were always better than full lies. “Checking out the neighborhood. As you said, there are opportunities here and better places to live than this dump.” She thought of the bitchy witch’s shop and the apartment above it. There was a basement there, too; a good place to house the hired help.
“I’ve already found one. Old man. Senile. Granddaughter coming in to take care of things.” He grinned, reminding Andi of how sharp those teeth could be. “You can be the granddaughter, my dear.”
Andi touched her face. “Shouldn’t I look more like a granddaughter?” she asked. She waited for him to offer the bitch’s services and when he didn’t, Andi knew the girl was more than one of his little murderous obsessions.
It was something they used to do together. He’d find a woman who took his fancy and would stalk her. For Andi, watching Abyar put the moves on some high class bitch was a real turn-on. He liked to play with his food and watching him torment one of those designer bodies could bring Andi right to the edge of orgasm. They didn’t do it often, because the police tended to pay more attention to missing rich bitches, but the sex afterward was always worth the wait.
If this girl was one of those, he would have invited her to watch while he tore the secrets from her.
For days, she’d listened to his ranting about his perfect, pretty little puss, but he made no plans to take her. Something was different about this one, which was why she’d disobeyed his instructions and went to check Superwitch out for herself.
What Andi found wasn’t what she expected. The girl was pretty enough, but her body was nothing like the curvy doll Abyar preferred. And, the bitch was stupid. She wasted what she knew on those ridiculous little bottles she sold with the watered down versions inside. And then she had the nerve to refuse the real thing to Andi. That, above all, was proof that the twit didn’t have what it took to be of any use to anyone, especially Abyar.
Something needed to be done before Abyar forgot who would be the bigger asset and not just the bigger set of tits. With Little Miss Perfect’s knowledge, Andi could turn back the clock. She and Abyar could be as they were meant to be, as they had been in the beginning. After all she’d done for Abyar, Andi wasn’t about to be set aside.
“Call in three of the crew,” she ordered Poynter when Abyar had gone. “I’ve got a job for you.” She told him what she wanted and when he looked as if he might refuse, she pointed to the mirror in the corner. “I brought you over and I can send you back.” She then grabbed the neck of her tee shirt and ripped it down the front. “Or I can tell your master that you’ve been a naughty boy. Then I won’t have to expend the energy to send you back, only to bring over your replacement.”
In spite of what he’d forced her to do in the Otherworld, Abyar’s no-touch rule had been reinstated in this one and he’d made it clear that anyone who touched Andi would die.
“Yes, Mistress.”
The title was a nice touch, one of the few Abyar had given her in recent weeks, but that was only the beginning of good things to come.
If the bastard actually thought he could charm his ‘pretty little puss’ back into his arms, he’d better think again. It wasn’t going to happen and the sooner he saw just how uncooperative Superwitch was going to be, the sooner things would get back to going Andi’s way.
No, better she should offer the little bitch up as a gift. Once Abyar had his vengeful way with the little bitch, she and poor pussy could become friends, sharing battle scars and secrets.
When in the right mood, Abyar could be brutal. Hadn’t she had the broken bones to prove it? Add a little revenge to the mix and his mood could easily tip toward homicidal. Once she had the secrets she needed, all she’d have to do is wait and maybe egg him on a bit. The bitch would shatter like one of those stupid witch balls hanging in her window. If Abyar’s lovemaking didn’t kill her, Andi could finish the job and who’d be the wiser.
Yes, bringing Aby Baby a gift would be the best course of action for all concerned. He’d be angry, but he’d take it out on Superwitch first. Andi could handle whatever wrath was leftover.
~*~
“Well, we’re off to that ball game,” Col said. He jabbed his brother with an elbow which made Dov’s last bite of cinnamon bun miss its mark. “We don’t want to be late.”
Dov caught the falling tidbit and shoved it in his mouth. “Oh yeah. Yeah. We wouldn’t want to miss the first pitch. Can I have this?” he asked Grace and pointed to the last bun. When she nodded, he grabbed up the tin plate and kissed Grace’s cheek, leaving a sugary stain behind. “You’re the best, Gracie.”
“Hey! That was my piece,” Col complained, “I was saving it for later.”
“Snooze, ya lose.”
“There’s more on the counter,” Grace called after them and turned her smile on the three remaining trainees who, like their predecessor’s, would be leaving the House for their new assignments in a few days. “There’s more for you, too.”
“Gee, thanks, Gracie, uh, I mean, my Lady,” Petry corrected with a nervous glance at their Liege Lord. “I’m really going to miss it here. I kept telling my mother she had nothing to worry about, but,” he shrugged, “you know how it is.”
Grace didn’t. She’d never had a mother to worry, but she nodded and laughed when Canaan scowled at poor Flipper who added,
“Yeah, me too, Gracie. You’re nothing like what my father said you’d be,” and then realized, too late, what he’d confessed.
“My Lord,” Grace cautioned, “He’s not saying anything that hasn’t been said before.”
Because of the legend describing their beginnings, most Paenitentia did not like Daughters of Man, hated them in fact, and thought them little better than scheming whores whose witchery brought about their downfall. Grace was pretty sure the job of training new recruits was meant as a punishment for Canaan, but as far as she could see, it was the best “Daughters Aren’t Evil” campaign they could ask for. It was hard to hate the people you lived and ate and laughed with, and Grace’s cooking and care took away any lingering doubts.
“May we return for a visit, my Lord?” the more formal Roland inquired.
“If your new Liege Lord gives you leave, you’ll always be welcome, but not,” he warned a little threateningly, “until after the birth. Now put your dishes into the dishwasher and go find your assigned Guardian partners for your night of patrol. You’ve only got a few days before you’ll be moving on. My mate and I need a moment alone.”
“Am I in trouble?” Grace held the mound that was her stomach and arched her back.
“Should you be?”
“I don’t know, but every time you say, “My mate and I need a moment alone,” she mimicked, “It usually means I am. But I’ve got to tell you, big boy, I don’t think I‘m going to be able to handle any more of your punishments until after I deliver. I’m too damn big and uncomfortable. I tell you what, though,” she giggled, “You get a little notebook so you can keep track and when I’m back in shape, we can play catch up.” She winked. “In the meantime, would you rub my feet?”
Canaan ran his tongue over the inside of his cheek as he moved to the chair next to hers, took her feet into his lap and, after removing the flip-flops that had become her permanent footwear, started the massage. “Grace, I’m serious.”
“You always are until we get upstairs. That’s part of the fun. Oh,” she closed her eyes and groaned, “That’s so much better than sex.”
Canaan grunted at what he hoped was an unintended insult. “There’s no ball game tonight, Grace.”
“What do you care? You don’t like baseball.” She smiled blissfully as he worked her ankle.
“I don’t, but the twins do. They’re up to something and I want to know what it is.”
“Really? Why those sneaky devils.” She opened her eyes and gave him a guilty grin when he gave her his tough guy look. “Fine. I’m too tired to let you torment it out of me. They’re not taking advantage. It’s for a good cause. We’re worried about Broadbent.”
~*~
“He’s getting out of the car.”
“I can see that, Dov.”
“He’s going to the trunk.”
“I can see that, too, Dov.”
“What the hell do you think he’s got in that trunk?”
“How the hell do I know? Why don’t we shut the fuck up and watch.” Col slapped at his brother’s hand. “And put the damn glasses away. We don’t need ‘em.”
“Can’t be official spies without ‘em.” Dov put the binoculars back up to his eyes. “We should have radios in our watches like those guys on TV.”
“How old are you?”
“Stupid question since we’re twins.”
It looked like the Professor was about to pull something from the trunk before he looked heavenward for a few moments and changed his mind.
“God, Col, this must be serious. He’s praying.”
“He’s not praying, jackass. He’s thinking about something,” Col said disgustedly. He shook his head. “I’m changing my name. I don’t want anyone to think we’re related.”
“You do that. Then I won’t have to keep asking the ladies to be nice to my ugly brother.” Dov’s head lifted. “The subject is on the move. Come on.”
They followed Broadbent from the abandoned building where he’d parked his car, turned down a side street and cut through an alley. They were careful to maintain a safe distance between them and their subject. Their mission was not to intercept, but to discover his destination and contact.
“Damn. I would have put money on Canal Street,” Col whispered when they followed him down yet another alley. “Where’s he going?”
“That’s what we’re trying to find out. You still think it’s a girl, don’t you?”
“I’m telling you...”
“Yeah, and I’m telling you, if it is a girl, we’re not bringing her home.”
“Nobody said jack shit about bringing her home. I just want to see what kind of girl would get the hots for Broadbent.”
“I’m thinking she’d be blind and one legged,” Dov snickered. “Can’t see what she’s getting into and can’t run once she figures it out.”
“After two dates, she’d probably wish she was deaf, too.”
They lost sight of their subject for a moment, but picked up the trail again when he crossed the street.
“Well, looks like you were wrong. We’re nowhere near Canal.”
They turned the corner and stopped abruptly. Broadbent was waiting for them, arms crossed and scowling.
“Shit!”
“Indeed.” Broadbent intoned before he touched his thumb to his phone and held it to his ear. “Yes, our inept investigators have been caught. They’re on their way home. Thank you, my Lord. I will. Your advice and forbearance is greatly appreciated.”
~*~
Broadbent pushed the grocery cart filled with bags of cat food across the lot to where he’d parked his car. He had no idea supermarkets carried pet food and once inside, was amazed at the number of non-food items they offered. He’d never been in one before and the displays fascinated him. He’d always envisioned Grace clearing the shelves of food stuffs when she took one of the trainees with her to restock the larder. He realized now that the five or six carts she filled per week would hardly be noticeable. It was a new experience for him and he thought in thefuture, he might be wise to offer assistance with the shopping.
He’d gone to his Liege Lord because he had no choice. He knew he’d been preoccupied of late and feared it had been noticed when the schedule was suddenly changed.
“May I have a moment of your time, my Lord?”
Canaan had pushed his chair away from his desk and spun it to face his Guardian. “Take a seat and fire away.”
Broadbent often wished there was a little more formality in Lord Canaan’s House, but in this instance, the casualness helped put him more, if not completely, at ease. After closing the door and taking the offered seat, he began as he’d rehearsed.
“Unlike the twins, I cannot view the introduction of oneself to the acquaintance of the opposite sex as a game.”
Canaan snorted. “Yeah, but nobody plays the game better. I don’t know how they do it, but they’re never lonely and the women keep coming back for more.” His face suddenly turned serious. “You haven’t heard any complaints, have you? I don’t mind them having their fun, but those two can push things too far and...”
“No, my Lord, you misunderstand,” Broadbent reassured him, “I’ve come to speak about me, about my inexperience in these matters. I’ve tried to educate myself. I’ve read the literature, felt the emotion of the great poets. To my shame, I’ve even read a few of the silly romances I’ve found lying about.”
“Not so silly when you get to the good parts.” Canaan winked. “What’s this about, Broadbent? Have you found a woman?”
“I have found a female friend,” he answered circumspectly, “but I’ve no idea how one goes about showing one’s appreciation. The others seem to focus on the sexual aspects, getting them into bed as it were.”
Canaan raised an eyebrow. “You’re not interested in sex?”
“Oh, um, it hasn’t gone quite that far. This is not the type of woman who should be treated as a casual...” He rolled his hand while searching for the word.
“One night stand.”
“Indeed.”
“Sounds serious.”
“I don’t see how it could be. I’ve only known her a short time, but...” He thought of her smile and how her lips pursed when she was about to scold him. He envisioned her luscious breasts and full, round hips. He’d taken a deep breath at that point. He’d had to. “These things shouldn’t be decided solely on one’s immediate “feelings”.” He drew the quotes in the air with his fingers.
“I wasn’t aware you’d spent that much time over at Moonlight Sanctuary.”
“The enclave?” At first, the mention of the Paenitentia community a short distance from the city confused Broadbent.
“Your woman?” Canaan hinted.
“Oh, she’s not mine,” he said, referring to the way Paenitentia males laid claim to their females. “And she’s not Paenitentia. She’s entirely human, I’m afraid.”
Canaan sat back in his chair. “No shit.”
“I, too, was surprised. Quite unexpected really, but there it is. She’s a lovely little thing.”
His Liege Lord dragged his hand down his cheek and over his chin. He blew out his breath. “Look, Broadbent, I know this is none of my business and it’s probably not your first time out of the gate, but falling in love with a human isn’t a race you should run. It always ends badly.”
Broadbent nodded in understanding. Humans aged so quickly. It would be difficult to watch someone you loved die before they’d seen their hundredth year.
“Unless, of course, you find yourself a Daughter,” Canaan added with a wink.
For Daughters of Man, the aging process slowed when they mated a Paenitentia. Manon was living proof.
Broadbent suspected Patience was a Daughter of Man, but hadn’t found a way to tactfully bring it up. She knew he wasn’t human, either, but he’d been hesitant to betray his origins until he was sure she would understand. If the others knew, they’d want to meet her and he wasn’t ready to share. It was all too complicated as it was.
“The wooing, my Lord. I need your advice. I thought of flowers, or candy, or a book of poetry, but when I’ve mentioned them in the past, the others rolled their eyes and laughed. Saying it now, it does sound rather trite.”
“That’s a tough one, Broadbent. Nardo buys JJ knives. Nico buys jewelry for Hope. Jewelry might be good, unless your girl is a knife thrower,” he chuckled.
“Good heavens, no. She’s a peaceful little thing. Quite caring.”
He thought of Patience’s cats and her daily Good Deed which, she’d explained, was an essential part of her daily routine. Broadbent appreciated the importance of routine. She’d allowed him to accompany her on several of her kindly excursions. Her deeds were simple, but meaningful; an electric fan for an elderly man whose flat grew too hot in the summer; chocolates for a young single mother who would never buy such a treat for herself. Patience could little afford it, but she would not allow him to contribute.
“Wouldn’t harm a fly.” Broadbent bent forward, his face intent. “What do you buy for Grace?”
His question elicited the strangest reaction from his Liege Lord. Canaan shouted with laughter.
“That’s between me and Grace, and she keeps them locked up tight in a box under our bed.”
Broadbent had no idea what was so amusing, but their conversation had given him some insight. Candy and flowers were what the women would call generic. A woman wanted things that were more personal. JJ loved finely wrought weaponry. Hope adored jewelry. And Grace apparently enjoyed whatever it was she kept hidden under the bed. He needed to find gifts that were personal and showed he paid attention to her preferences.
Hence, he’d purchased a Blue Ray whatever-it-was and fifty movies to go with it, along with a hundred pounds of cat food. He also bought four cannoli from the bakery department since he was pretty sure that divine little bottom of hers couldn’t be maintained by eating lettuce.
Between the twins’ harassment and the time he spent in the supermarket, he was already running late.
Chapter 9
After sitting on the bathroom floor for who knew how long, Pinkie was roused from her misery by a snarling cat. With tiger-like intensity, the tiny tabby pounced across the bathroom floor, swatting and growling at its imagined foe. Pinkie sniffed and then laughed at the cat’s antics.
The cat was not amused. Ears laid flat against its head, it pinned Pinkie with its stare, daring her to laugh again.
“You want me to fight, don’t you?”
Never releasing her from its stare, the cat sat. Its ears went up as its fluffed up fur went back down. It started to purr.
