Brutal Asset, page 6
“I didn’t. It occurred to me when Illarion spoke how you smelled. My uncle can be….difficult,” she answered simply.
Actually, it was rather brilliant in a ruthless sort of way. Not only had she established that I was capable of protecting myself to a large group of European vampires, but she had also added to her own reputation as a leader. Being cold enough to order your bodyguard to kill your lover to prove a point would only raise her esteem among Darkkin. And her bond was assuring me that she had really only feared for Arkady’s life. I also sensed a tiny amount of shock at the speed with which I had defeated the giant. She had only seen the Grim side of me in action once, and she had been rather busy at the time.
My anger dribbled away as I searched her eyes and saw the truth of her statements. Loving a vampire isn’t like loving a regular human. The quintessential vampire is a consummate predator. And like werewolves, Darkkin have a pack-like status structure. Strength and ability are rewarded and revered. Weakness is reviled. Actually, it’s like human society on steroids and without any hint of kindness. And Tanya had been born vampire, so the qualities of ruthlessness, decisiveness, and strength were embedded at the cellular level.
“So you came up with that little….scene on the spur of the moment?” I asked.
“Pretty much, and don’t be mad but it will also have the benefit of making my leadership more locked in.”
“Yeah, I figured that one out. Listen, I’m gonna get something to eat, then crash. You got company to take care of,” I said.
She just stared at me, a little smile lifting the corners of her perfect mouth.
“They can wait,” she said, searching my eyes. “Lydia was calling Remy when I left so we can grab your snack on the way to our rooms and then I can grab a bite, too!”
I laughed, despite myself. Clever girl. Well, feeding Tanya is one of my favorite things to do, especially as it’s usually accompanied by mind-blowing sex. Hey, maybe this would count as make-up sex?
Chapter 11
I woke well past noon the next day. Tanya and I had a small suite of rooms whose concrete construction was masked, at least in part, by a vast array of Turkish carpets, and hanging tapestries, as well as countless pillows, loveseats, overstuffed chairs and a couple of sofas.
The extra seating is vital, as we are usually neck deep in Tanya’s inner circle. Lydia, Nika (when she’s there) and about a dozen others. They are drawn to her and to some degree, me, and as the Coven is in low profile mode, it seems we are forever hosting movie night or game night or some other form of gathering. Odd doesn’t begin to cover movie night with vampires. They watch everything – everything but vampire movies. Actually, they don’t watch much horror either, the blood makes them antsy. Comedies, chick flicks, natural disaster, espionage, some sci fi. The odd part is that they won’t always favor the natural protagonist, but will actively root for the villain, especially if the hero is as Lydia puts it – ‘Too stupid to live”.
As I woke, I realized that we weren’t alone. Several others were snuggled around us, all female. That happens fairly often as well. They give us our alone time, but then they want to cluster in like kittens in a box. It took a while for me to get used to going to bed with my girl and waking in a pile of others. Tanya explained its part of vampire nature to seek contact with others of your coven. And being a charismatic full blood princess seems to strengthen the draw. She says they don’t mind my AB+ odor either.
I dragged myself into clothes and then made coffee in the other room. I didn’t work especially hard at being quiet, as the mere presence of the sun above the city would push the vampires, even Tanya, into a deep narcotic sleep. Being underground didn’t stop them from feeling the Sun’s effect, although vampires can stay awake if needed, like a college kid pulling an all-nighter to study.
Hungry as always, I unwrapped a Lupine Pemmican bar and munched on it while sipping my coffee. This one was venison with dried cranberries mixed in. Yummm! The little Pack that lived next to my gramp’s farm was now producing a complete line of modern pemmican bars for hikers, kayakers, extreme athletes, and lately, military. As part owner, I got my own supply, which gave me a very stable, always handy source of dense calories to appease my insatiable appetite.
Checking my laptop’s calendar function, I almost spit out my coffee when I realized what day it was. Tuesday, the beginning of the second week of classes at Columbia University. That was only important if you were a student or professor, but as I had signed up for a class and missed the first week, it was important to me. Mostly because of Chet’s urging, I was taking a Mysticism class in the university’s religion department, ideally to help me understand the many odd things in my world, like Okwari, demons and the angel named Barbiel.
Immediately, all my second thoughts surfaced. God and I didn't see eye to eye. Why did I need to delve deeper? But even as I thought this, I couldn't help but be a little intrigued by the class. I had gone ahead and purchased all four of the required textbooks, two of which were by the course instructor. Chet spoke highly of Wade Pitcairn, who at thirty-four was already a full professor. During my three weeks of Loki hunting I had spent my down time reading the course material and the reference books. I had to admit to a certain level of interest.
Emerging from the suite; showered, and dressed, I thought about bagging the class altogether as I made myself brunch in one of the kitchens. But I had found a note in my course packet from Tanya, wishing me luck on 'my first day back to school', as well as a new Columbia University sweatshirt laid out with my clothes. She was excited that I was pursuing something other than Loki Spawn and the fact that I would be attending her alma matter didn't hurt. Tanya had a business degree from Columbia, something that continued to floor me every time I thought about it. Not that she wasn't smart enough to do it, hell, she was much, much smarter about finance and business than anyone I'd ever met. The part that boggled me was the idea of her sitting in a classroom or lecture hall, and not completely disrupting the course. Especially, as all this had occurred during her silent phase, when she never spoke a word for fifteen years. Lydia explained that most of the work was done online, with correspondence and with private tutors. She had attended some night classes and lectures, but had been accompanied by Lydia and other Darkkin. Her appearance had been dimmed down by use of hooded sweatshirts, ball caps and even a few wigs. Somehow, I doubted that did much to dull her appearance.
After my meal, I packed my bookbag, including a heaping supply of pemmican bars and bottled water. Then I jacked a Segway from the fleet that the coven uses and traveled the Citadel's tunnels, eventually exiting into the subway system by way of a camouflaged entrance inside a men's room. I hopped a train for two stations and exited at the Columbia stop at 116th and Broadway. Emerging into the mid-afternoon September sun, I walked the campus, taking my sweet time getting to Hamilton Hall where the class was held. It was a bit surreal being back on a university campus, even more so because I was definitely attracting much more attention than I used to, even wearing a baggy sweatshirt and jeans.
My course schedule, which listed exactly one course, noted a room on the fifth floor. Climbing the four flights of stairs brought me to the doorway of a large lecture hall five minutes before the class was scheduled to start. Wondering why a full lecture hall was needed for a lower level religion class, I entered only to find the class almost full. Not only that, but the front rows of desks were all occupied, and almost exclusively by females. Walking between the rows to get to few seats still open at the back of the room, I tried to ignore the looks my odd appearance was generating. Being indoors, I wasn't wearing sunglasses and despite my best attempts otherwise, I was still forced to make eye contact several times before I could plunk down in an open chair. Damn violet eyes! The room was too warm for my higher than normal body temperature, so I shucked my sweatshirt and hung it over the back of my chair. The guy next to me nodded in a relaxed sorta way so I nodded back . Guy code is so simple.
Digging out my notebook and pen, I organized myself, then looked up at the clock mounted near the door. That action brought to my attention the fact that at least fifteen female faces were turned in my direction. Luckily, the next person through the door distracted my observers, so I assumed he was Professor Pitcairn. Tall, lean and blonde, he ignored the class as he organized his lecture material. The front rows of girls locked their attention on him, with the ones further back craning to get a look. Ahh, that was the reason for the high class numbers.
“Before we get started, I want to remind you that today is the last day to drop classes,” he said in a deep voice. “Anyone? No, huh?”
That was met with laughter.
“Okay next we need to address a couple of names who didn't attend last week and I assume have already dropped,” he said. He read off a couple of names with no response from the class, but when he read my name, I spoke up with a loud “Here!”
This engendered another round of heads turned in my direction, but it was the professor's response that was interesting.
“Gordon?” he clarified, his head snapping up to find me in the sea of faces.
“That's me,” I agreed.
“Mr. Gordon, you completely missed the first week of class. I assumed you would be dropping out,” he said, his tone brusque.
“Well Professor, you know what they say about assuming?” I replied before I could catch myself.
I really don't respond well to aggression in any form.
Now I really had his attention.
“Mr. Gordon, skipping class is not going to get you far in this course,” he said. “It may be that this is the wrong choice of an elective for you.”
“Actually, Professor Pitcairn, I was absent for work,” I replied. “ And the course isn't an elective.”
“Work? Just what work do you do, Mr. Gordon, that you would miss the entire first week of your courses.”
“I consult with the federal government,” I said. “And this is my only class.”
Now he was really surprised, struggling with which statement to tackle first. No teacher likes to look bad in front of his or her class, but I could tell Pitcairn was really adverse to it and his admirers in the front of the class were looking back and forth between us like a tennis match.
“You consult with the government?” he made it sound like an insult. “No wonder they're doing such a wonderful job! But what could you possibly consult with them about, you can’t be more than a few years older than these undergrads?”
That made the whole class laugh, and I felt like I was back in high school all over again. Only things were different this time around. I wasn't the same awkward kid I used to be.
“I know what you mean, despite my best advice they still make useless grants for idiot research by academics trying to milk the taxpayer,” I replied. “Oh, and I’m in conflict resolution, if it matters.”
Chet had told me about how Pitcairn had received a grant to study altered states of consciousness at a sub-particle level as it pertained to religion, something that fit his undergraduate degree in physics to a tee.
He frowned. “Mr. Gordon, before I dismiss you from my class, can I ask why this is your only course?”
I started to pack my stuff, figuring I was getting dropped, while part of me wondering why I had tried to do something normal.
“Yeah, an idiot named Chet who thinks you walk on water, strongly suggested that I take your course.”
“Chet? Would this Chet have a last name?” he asked, interested.
“Aikens, but you can read about him in his obituary,” I said, starting to stand. A couple of people laughed.
“Hold on a moment. Chet Aikens suggested you take my class?” he asked, then continued at my nod.
“How do you know Chet?”
“Work,” I answered.
“At his old job with the NYPD or his new one that he won't tell me about?” he asked, his tone completely different.
“Both,” I said, looking back with an indifferent gaze.
“I see,” he said thoughtfully, completely distracted from the rest of the class. That in itself was pretty impressive as there were an extraordinary number of very attractive girls hanging on our conversation.
I was having a hard time ignoring them, but I had my anger to help.
“Mr. Gordon, if Chet thinks this is the class for you, then we’ll see how it goes. I won't be asking you to leave after all,” he said, before turning his attention back to the class. I figured that was as close to an apology as I would be likely to get. I settled back in, trying to ignore the stares I was still getting. I was still angry, but it was all my own, with nothing of the Grim-fueled rage that could decimate an entire campus.
Pitcairn launched into a lecture about mysticism in America and its roots in Native American shamanism and the European spirituality movement from the eighteen hundreds. He was a somewhat arrogant speaker, but engaging none the less. I actually enjoyed the class, particularly the parts concerning Native American beliefs, as my best guess had Okwari as the de facto Great Spirit Bear. Pitcairn displayed an extensive knowledge of both Christianity and the religious beliefs of the Native Americans. The hour flew by, while I generated a list of questions to ask at a later date.
Suddenly, class was over and it was time to leave. I noticed most of the female students staying back or moving up to where Pitcairn stood gathering his notes. None seemed in a hurry to leave and several were paying more attention to me than the professor. The guy contingent booked for the door and I edged around a couple of smiling girls, intent on making my own escape.
“Mr. Gordon, do you have a moment?” Pitcairn asked.
I changed direction and moved into his sphere of activity, where his petitioners all stopped to observe our conversation.
“You mentioned that Chet suggested my class and that it's your only class. Can I ask what you're hoping to take away from it?” he asked.
Talk about a complicated question. How do you tell someone that you want to find out your role in God's army, your relationship to angels and what the deal is with your prehistoric elder god giant short-faced bear friend?
“Er, well, it's really complicated, but let's just say I have questions that standard religious sources haven’t been able to provide answers to,” I responded, thinking to buy some time. Oddly enough, it seemed to work. He slowly nodded, then after a quick glance at our enthralled audience, he spoke. “Chet mentioned a friend of his with some rather......extraordinary ….circumstances. I think that might be you?” he questioned.
“I doubt he has any odder friends than me!” I agreed, uncomfortable with the attention, while wondering what Chet had said..
“Maybe we can talk sometime?” he suggested.
“Possibly,” I allowed.
I slid out of the room, still thinking about the class and its instructor. While he couldn’t have all my answers, his knowledge and connections would be really helpful in deciphering some of my issues. The guy was not what I expected though. Arrogant and apparently good-looking, to judge by the girls behavior, I could see why Chet idolized him. My geeky pal was always looking to be the player.
I headed back toward the subway entrance, but my goal was a Chinese takeout place called Ollie’s whose aromas had hit me upside the head when I arrived an hour ago. As I walked my appreciation of the campus was broken by the feeling I was being followed. I kept looking straight ahead, but extended my other senses. My hearing picked up snippets of conversation all around me, but from directly behind me I heard, “hurry up, we don’t want to lose him!” a female voice said. That was met with a giggle, then, “yeah, we so need to find out more about him! I feel like a creeper!” another female voice agreed. “Did you see his eyes?” another said.
I relaxed a bit, realizing that it was a couple of the girls from class, obviously intrigued by my exotic appearance. I could lose them after I snacked a bit at Ollie’s.
Much bigger and nicer on the inside than I expected, Ollie’s was just what I needed. The staff seemed a bit standoffish, but the seafood and noodle soup was great. They also had sesame pancakes which I had never tried.
Eating gave me time to surreptitiously study my stalkers. There were three of them, a blonde, a redhead and a brunette, almost the beginning of a joke. They were all seated where they could study me. They were very young, probably all freshmen, although the redhead carried herself like she was older. I had about decided they were harmless when my dark side perked up. It wasn't the girls who tripped Grim's switch, but rather a slender young man with a Yankees sweatshirt and faded cargo pants. I couldn't decide his ethnicity, his skin tone between olive and mocha, although his features were somewhat Middle Eastern. He was studying a book, eating soup and completely ignoring everyone around him so I couldn't figure out what had raised my hackles. But after a moment it hit me. He had been in the subway station when I had arrived before class. In and of itself, that wasn't suspicious as the Columbia station was a busy place for students, which he appeared to be. Still, something about him seemed hinky.
