CHAPTER Fifteen Absent Without Leave
From the Memoir of Glendennon Catch
Sovereign Jefferson Unit, Order of the Black Swan
It seems poor Finngarick simply can’t catch a break. After all this time, finding his mate in the partner assigned to him sounds like kismet. But no sooner does it seem like the clouds might be breaking for him than the promise of a future is snatched out from under him. Pardon my use of the word ‘snatched’, but that’s what my wife called it. She said that the elf, Sheridan O’Malley, one of a pair of identical twins, was randomly paired with Torn.
I’m beginning to think there’s no such thing as ‘randomly’. The universe is an orderly place if you can get back far enough to be objective and see things in the context of a lot of time passing. How could it possibly be a coincidence that I sent him to interview for D.I.T. and my wife ‘randomly’ picked him to partner with his mate? Right. Such things cannot be random.
Rosie said that anybody who saw the two of them together would know they were fated mates. She said they were cute together, whatever that means. And that they look like they belong together, whatever that means.
So for the sake of my wife, because she will take it badly if her hunter is lost, and for the sake of Torn Finngarick, I hope Kellareal is able to make good on his promise to get the abductee back.
At some point, during tonight’s episode of supper, I realized that weird is the closest I’m ever going to come to normal. And that I should be thankful for days that aren’t outright insane. I’m not sure how I’m supposed to feel about that, but I’m leaning toward feeling like that’s okay with me. In one sense or another I’ve been off the ‘normal’ grid most of my life.
So what if a quiet dinner at home with my wife is interrupted by an angel and a demon, who apparently have a relationship governed by spite and a grudging admiration? It’s just our version of ‘guess who’s coming to dinner’. Rosie is worth it. Black Swan is worth it.
Yeah. I guess I’ve drunk the cult green. No regrets. ~~
Finngarick hopped a jet to New Jersey. No one questioned whether or not he had the required permissions. Why would they? He was a Black Swan knight.
After several hours in the air, Torn caught a Jeep to Jefferson Unit’s front door, buzzed in, and walked into Glen’s office without waiting to be announced by Glen’s man on duty. It was unexpected to say the least.
Glen looked up and was a little alarmed by what he saw. Torn’s appearance had always been stylistically unorthodox, but he’d always been clean, groomed, and healthy-looking despite reports of enjoying Irish whiskey more than a body should. At the moment, Finngarick was pale, disheveled, and wearing an expression that could only be described as distraught.
“Sir Finngarick. I wasn’t expecting you.”
“I’m here anyway,” said Torn.
Glen nodded at his man standing in the doorway looking unsettled. “Sorry, sir. He, um, got by me.”
“That’s alright,” Glen said. “Close the door.”
When the door was closed, Torn said, “I’ve ne’er asked for anythin’ in return for what I’ve given this outfit.”
“By ‘outfit’, you mean Black Swan?”
“O’ course I mean Black Swan.”
“In that case, let me remind you that a lot of what you’ve given this ‘outfit’ is trouble.”
A rush of embarrassment was tinted with a flush that rose to Finngarick’s face. “That’s true and I can no’ deny it. But ‘twas before. I’ll give whate’er I have to give. Anythin’. Just get her back.”
Glen’s face went soft. “Are we talking about Rosie’s missing hunter?”
“Sher. Yes.”
“She’s on your team?” Of course Glen knew the answer to that question, but played dumb because he didn’t want Rosie’s unit to know she carried tales out of school.
“My partner. Sheridan O’Malley. For all I know she’s the best asset The Order has.” He paused. “Next to your, er, wife, that is.”
“Speaking of that. Does your boss know you’re here?”
Torn flushed, but looked defiant in refusing to apologize for that. How could he? It was all he could do to sit still. The mate connection that he’d come to rely on had been ripped away violently. It was there. Then it wasn’t. And since the invisible cord that connected him to Sheridan had been cut, it was all he could do to get motor skills to function.
“No.”
Glen sat back and stared at Torn for a second. “What were you just saying about how the troublemaking was ‘before’?”
Torn’s shoulders slumped with a look of defeat. Glen motioned for him to sit down in the chair in front of his desk. First he used the intercom to order a coffee service. Then he called Rosie. “Yes, I…” (pause) “Yes.” (pause) “Yes.” (pause) “No, wait wait wait wait, I called you. Remember?” (pause) “Yes. It’s because I have something to say. I asked to see Finngarick. He thinks he may have forgotten to get clearance from you. So I’m calling to let you know he’s away with my blessing. No blowback.” (pause) (sigh) “Yes. I’ll sing you love songs like Ram does for Elora.” Over the phone Glen glared at Finngarick like he wanted to kill him. “Yes. He’ll be back in a few hours.”
Glen ended the call and continued to glare at Torn for a few beats before saying. “I’m not a very good singer. My singing voice sounds more like a growl than anything.”
“But she must like it or she would no’ ask you to sing to her?”
Glen sighed. Again. Then nodded. “Love is strange.” He lifted his gaze to Finngarick. “Why did you come to me?”
“Well, because… and I’m no’ especially proud to say this, but you’re my only friend in high places.”
After a second Glen barked out a laugh. He looked around. “You think of this as a ‘high place’?” Torn gave him a confused look. “And, I didn’t know you considered me a friend.”
“Well, aye. E’er since that time in Romania. I mean I’m sorry for, erm, hazin’ you the way I did. But ‘twas done with love.”
“With love,” Glen said drily.
“Aye.”
There was a knock at the door. “Come in,” Glen said loud enough to be heard.
Glen’s man, which was what he called the student admin on duty, wheeled in a coffee service featuring Ralph Lauren cups and saucers, a silver-plated coffee carafe with insulated lining, and cream in a container that looked like a crystal vial.
Torn stared at the luxurious display. “And you question that this is high places?”
Glen looked at the service and realized that he probably had begun to take some of the perks of being J.U. Sovereign for granted. “When it comes to jobs, this one’s not all bad.” Finngarick snorted at that. “Help yourself.”
Torn poured himself a black coffee and snagged a peanut butter oatmeal cookie, which he dipped into the clotted cream that was intended for the pretty display of large perfectly formed strawberries that had been picked at the optimum moment of ripeness and flown straight to J.U. food service.
“I’m going to go out on a limb and guess that you have feelings for Ms. O’Malley, beyond being her partner.”
Finngarick’s jaw clenched. He started to speak, but changed his mind when he realized his throat had closed. He gave a short tight nod, but his expressive eyes told Glen everything he needed to know.
“She’s no’ just my partner. She’s my mate. Do you know enough about elves to know what that means?”
“As much as I can,” Glen said, clearing his throat of the discomfort that one man feels when another is overcome with emotion.
“It means that the distress I’m feelin’, she’s feelin’ it, too. And I can no’ stand the thought of that.” He said it in a way that was almost pleading.
“Well, I want to assure you that Rosie is not taking this lightly. She’s pulled out all the stops to get Ms. O’Malley back where she belongs. And I have it on good authority that it’s in the works.”
“You know for a fact that she’s alright then?” The hope in Finngarick’s voice and in the expression on his face tore at Glen’s heart.
“We believe she is unharmed and also believe that it’s only a matter of time until she’s returned.”
“Where is she?”
“Well, uh… I, ah…”
When Glen hesitated, Torn shot to his feet. “I do no’ like the sound of ‘well, uh, I, ah’. Spit it out, man. I’m no’ a child.”
Glen inhaled deeply. Torn was right. He wasn’t a child. He was a Black Swan knight. But he also had a reputation as a hotheaded Irish elf who, given the right circumstances, could resemble a tornado personified. Glen suspected that the missing Ms. O’Malley qualified as ‘right circumstances’.
“I will tell you if you swear to remain calm.”
Finngarick looked like his head might explode. “Tell me now!”
“A demon has her.”
“Demon?” Torn’s eyes flicked back and forth as he blinked quickly. He took in a deep breath like he was having trouble breathing. “What kind?” Before Glen could answer that, Torn said, “And what does he want with…?”
Glen gave him a look of sympathy. As he watched the little bit of color left in Finngarick’s face pale to deathly white, he poured another inch of whiskey and set the bottle where Torn could reach it.