The Brotherhood - Believe It Or Not Part 4

"You said it wasn't black magic," Silas accused. "s.h.i.t. You mean this is black magic? Sweet Mary Moses, mother of pearl." He rubbed his balding scalp. "I gotblack magic running my club? You know how much trouble I could get into?"

"Calm down," Martin said, mentally addingyou twit . "It's just an expression. My magic's pure as the driven snow. Good old Himself wouldn't put up with me otherwise, would he?" He patted one wall.

The purr that filled the room made Silas shudder. "I hate it when the Heart does that," he said, mopping his forehead. "Look, just get on with the show, huh?"

"Two steps ahead of you."If you'd just shut up and let me work .

Martin bowed at the waist, raised his hands in the symbol of the Sun King in honor of Amour Magique's origins, and let magic gather in his palms in the form of a ball of white fire.

The Heart purred again. He liked Martin. Always had. Martin knew how to treat the old fellow right.

"I come as your servant, your master, your slave, your commander," he crooned. "Let me refresh your energies so you may fill us with the joy of the dance, the pleasure of the hunt, the thrill of mating. Take what you need, freely given by your va.s.sal." Juicing up Amour Magique's batteries took serious skill -- and the willingness to put your life on the line.

The club had picked Martin a few centuries ago while he was waiting to be executed. Knowing that, even if he escaped, returning to his lover Hal would have destroyed the man's life, Martin had been determined to go -- to save both of them-- no matter the cost.

The cost... well, therein lay the rub. Amour Magique had wanted to tap his wellsprings of magical energy in exchange for Martin's freedom, which had seemed like a much better deal than meeting the executioner. The Heart had warned Martin that the transfer of power could be dangerously draining, but Martin had kept his word and stuck to his guns.

Lucky them, they'd discovered that all Martin needed to recharge himself was a little sleep, a little food, possibly some s.e.x, and boom! Ready to roll again.

A tiny glitter was the first sign of Amour Magique's response. Martin patiently fed the twinkle a steady stream of his magic as the glow grew to the size of two fists and then ballooned, ever so slowly forming roughly into the shape of a heart floating in midair. The Heart. Not a Valentine's Day cartoon, mind.

More like the organ that pumped blood through human bodies, but different enough to clearly come from another manner of beast altogether.

Silas swore up and down; the sight of the Heart always gave him the creeps.

Martin, however, found the Heart rather beautiful. He laid both palms against the Heart's sides as it solidified into a perfect, glittering diamond. "Hi, there," he said softly. "Thank you for joining us."

The Heart spoke directly into Martin's mind.

Good to see you, son. So here we go again, huh? Since it's you, okay. But you know, after thousands of years, I'm just about tired of this game. Moving from place to place, changing to fit the date and location, I swear it's a drag sometimes. As long as you're around, though, Martin, I'll keep on keeping on.

Martin grinned broadly. Probably to entertain itself while staying inCharleston , the voice of Amour Magique's Heart had developed a heavy Southern accent. Long, drawled-out vowels and dropped consonants. One would expect an ent.i.ty so ancient to speak in weighty, ponderous proclamations, but the Heart liked to chat with what he now called a "good ol' boy's" voice.

His threats were nothing but idle words. The Heartloved his life and what he did with it.

"Well?" Silas demanded. "Is the club going to play nice tonight?" He dragged a limp hankie from his pocket and swabbed his forehead. "It doesn't get recharged or doesn't cooperate, we're dead in the water. No profit; and I don't even want to think about what would happen to this club if it isn't juiced.

Er, 'kept alive.' Freaky-a.s.s sentient building, my G.o.d. I should have taken that job as head accountant..."

Can I zap him? Or better yet, will you zap him? A right nice bolt of lightning directly between the eyes could possibly make him a mite easier to tolerate.

"You were the one who chose him as manager," Martin replied, too softly for the pacing, sweating Silas to hear. "What were you thinking, by the way?" I was probably drunk. Let's you and me figure out a way to ditch that sumb.i.t.c.h when we move on, huh?

"Moving? I likeCharleston , but where we stay and go has always been your choice. How soon?"

Martin kept his voice low.

Tomorrow, more than likely. The Heart sounded thoughtful.

Martin pressed delicately. "Any particular reason?"

Liam. Now, don't get me wrong, that Tear is a nice little trinket. Kind of fills me up between meals, ya know? But every time Liam himself turns up, sweet as he is, things go all catawampus on my a.s.s. And I've got a buzz in the force. I think his Big Bad Momma is going to stick her fingers in the pie at some point. Gah. Thanks, but no thanks. I can't keep her out no more than I can keep Liam out, but when Lilith shows up it isdefinitelytime to hit the road. Maybe we'll visit Californiafor a spell next. Beach boys. Yum.

"I'll enjoy the change in scenery. But--" Martin hesitated.

Oh, no.

"No, what?"No, you didn't. d.a.m.n it all, you did! You're supposed to be a buddy, Martin, but you've gone and fallen for one of Liam's pals. I can see it clear as day now I'm looking for the signs. This spells trouble, pal, but I guess I don't have to tellyouthat .

Martin shrugged. "Harrisonhas attracted my attention and is one of Liam's group, yes. I don't plan on him being more than a night's entertainment."

Bubba, that's pure b.a.l.l.s and bulls.h.i.t.

"Pardon?"

A night's entertainment? Hoity-toity, and not too d.a.m.n likely. You've gone and tangled yourself up in a good, sticky web. Once you two meet...

Martin got the feeling that if Amour Magique had possessed a human head, he would be shaking it.

Let's just say that when you get together, it's not gonna be a song and dance to let him go. Or for him to let you go. And that gets me worried, Martin. You're not gonna want to leave him. He's not gonna want to say good-bye. Kind of a shame. After two-hundred-whatever years, I've gotten to like your style.

"What are you saying?"

Use the brain in your big head. Once you and Harrison make a connection, dumba.s.s, you'll either have to go or convince him to stay. I've read his books. Jeez, you know how to pick 'em, don't you? Ever hear aboutnotrising to the bait? Try it sometime. Anyway, you meet this guy, and you'll end up with the choice to remain with him or leave. Them's the facts, plain and simple.

If anyone else had been making such prophecies, Martin would have laughed in their face. The Heart of Amour Magique didn't lie, though. It couldn't. "I would never leave you." Son, a man will do anything for love.

"And if I should, by some bizarre chance, decide to go?"

Hmm. Ever hear about what happens to humans when they spend some time with the elves?

They're young while they stay there, but stick 'em back in the mortal world, and-- "They grow old in an instant and die," Martin whispered.

Might happen. Might not, what with your mojo to keep you going.

"I don't think I'll take the chance, thanks."

Yeah, well, we'll see. The Heart glittered like a dis...o...b..ll.Okay, son. Get this show on the road. And by the way, if you want a sneak preview, scry the outside of the club, right by the entrance ropes.

Liam and his boys are early.Harrison's with them . The Heart paused as if in thought.From what I've read, he's a p.r.i.c.k, but from what I see,he's a tasty p.r.i.c.k .

"Never met one that wasn't," Martin murmured. "Thank you, old friend." He bowed again.

Any time, kid. And, hey, if we don't meet again, good luck. I really did -- do -- like you a h.e.l.l of a lot.

"Thank you."

Martin turned to Silas, who was staring at him, as he always did when Martin talked to the Heart, as if Martin'd grown a second head, complete with green scales and antennae. "We're ready. The club's good to open. Now go have a drink before you collapse, will you?"

Silas glared at him but stumbled past all the same, making a beeline out of the chamber of the Heart and no doubt heading straight for his office where a snifter of double-plus-good brandy waited. Along with his secretary. The secretary was too pretty for Silas, in Martin's opinion, but what the h.e.l.l.

Alone at last.

Martin hesitated and then raised one shoulder. What the h.e.l.l, indeed? But why limit himself to scrying when he could get up close and personal?

A portal peeped open a tiny black eye.

"There you are." Martin petted the edges. "Smart boy. Now, take me to the hidden window near the entrance of the club. I want to get a look at all the fresh meat in line."

The portal widened obediently until it was large enough for Martin to step through. He entered without fear. Portals could be a h.e.l.l of a thrill ride, but he was used to them to the point of being bored as he traveled; he sometimes thought a little modern elevator music would be nice during the journey.

When the portal deposited him at his destination, Martin touched it again. "Hang out for a few. This won't take long." He stepped toward the window and peered out. A nifty little magical aperture, it would look just like another section of the wall to an outside observer, but from the inside you could get a nice view.

Now to find what he wanted to peek at...

Ah. Yes. There.Harrison , dressed in a soft-blue, b.u.t.ton-down shirt and casual pants, just as nicely big and broad in real life as in his photo. Edible.

"I seeee you," Martin teased, though he knewHarrison wouldn't notice anything. "You're in for the time of your life, Harry, my boy."

Harrisonglanced up. At the wall. At Martin.

Martin couldn'thearHarrison , but he was good enough at lip-reading to know when someone was shouting "s.h.i.t!"

Martin jerked back.Double s.h.i.t! That was definitely not supposed to happen. The window was an established ent.i.ty. Hidden. Always hidden. One could look out, but no one could see in. Simple rules that had never changed, not even when the club itself changed shape.

"Heart of Amour Magique, are you playing games?" he demanded.

The Heart either didn't hear him or chose to ignore him. Martin scowled and put his hands on his hips.

Well. Wasn't this just great?

Chapter Three.

Harrisonrefused, absolutely refused, to stand frozen in place and gape at an ordinary warehouse wall.

He could not have seen what he'd thought he saw. Walls were man-made creations of brick, plaster, steel, what-have-you -- all according to time and place. They were unable to part physically like theater curtains and let you look through. Impossible -- so it hadn't happened. Couldn't have.

Yeah, he had simply imagined the walls had opened to reveal a man who looked uncannily familiar.

Blond, slim, and attractive, except for the melodramatic high-collared cloak he wore.

Impossible. Right. Or...

Hallucination? No. According to the dictionary alone, a hallucination is a "sensory experience of something that does not exist outside of the mind." I'm neither sick nor crazy. I don't believe in delusions. Delusions are one step away from illusions, and theyare not real.

Get it together,Harrison, he ordered himself.Back in control .

One member of the teeming ma.s.ses that surrounded the Brotherhood on all sides grabbedHarrison 's elbow. "Hey, got a light?"

Harrisonglanced down -- fairly far down -- to see a young woman, of all people, dressed in modernGoth high fashion. She reminded him a bit of outrageous Bree but seemed considerably less surly -- at first glance. She was, in fact, smiling. A slightly alarming smile, what with the black lipstick she'd slathered on, but if Bree had ever unbent far enough to smile instead of snarl,Harrison hadn't seen him do it.

The throng of hyped-up young men who were seriously ready to party was makingHarrison nervous.

And after Shoshanna, he was fairly wary of women, but this one, with her cheerful air of friendliness, didn't know him for who he was. He would be just another man in the crowd to her, so he had no reason to be rude, after all.

"I'm sorry," he said, trying not to sound aloof. "I don't smoke."

"d.a.m.n." The girl -- woman? -- tapped her cigarette against the palm of one delicate hand. "Oh, wait, maybe I've got matches." She started digging in the pocket of her leather jacket.

Harrisonexamined the small female, surrounded as she was by a near-literal ocean of men, and found himself growing concerned for her safety.

"Miss? I don't mean to offend, but is it possible you're lost? This isn't exactly a ladies' club."

"Female, schme-male." The girl snorted. "Aha. Gotcha." She tugged out a battered book of matches, struck one neatly on the sole of her boot, and lit up. After a l.u.s.ty inhale, she exhaled a plume of white smoke with a sigh of contentment. "Yeah, this is the big gay club, I know. I wanted to come check it out.

Can't blame a dame for being curious, can you?"

"I suppose not,"Harrison allowed. "It's still not safe. Some gay men, er, don't like women intruding on 'their' stomping grounds. I'm not saying their att.i.tude is right, but in a crowd this size you could be putting yourself at some considerable risk."

"Nah, no worries. I can take care of myself."

Harrisondidn't doubt the woman could. She was small, to be sure, but clearly tougher than the proverbial nail. She rippled with lithe muscle, her black-painted nails were sharpened to razor points, and the heavy boots she wore could certainly do some damage.

Those were merely the trappings. At a second, more thoughtful glance,Harrison could see the way her eyes reflected the sort of cynical ennui it should have taken centuries to acc.u.mulate. She radiated Danger, with a capital "D."

She made him uneasy. Nervous.

"Good evening, miss," he said stiffly, attempting to turn away. He wanted a private word with Allen to see if the veterinarian had any advice on how to get rid of his unwanted feline visitor for good.

d.a.m.n. Gone again. Allen seemed amazingly peppy that night. No sooner didHarrison try to reach him than Allen disappeared into the crowd of Brothers, only to pop up even further away.

The woman hooted from behind him. "Miss, huh? Yeah, you called me 'miss' before, too. Very 'old school.' I like it. Look, I'll be straight with you, no pun intended. I wanna get inside. You mind if I tag along? Yeah, yeah, I'm taking my life in my hands going into Gay Mecca, I know. Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back. I want to see for myself what this place is all about." Harrisondarted a glance at Liam, who had busied himself straightening the lapels on a G.o.d-awful, shiny orange shirt Collin wore. The stockbroker looked like a pumpkin. An uncomfortable pumpkin. He'd probably been subjected to one of Liam's makeover hijackings.Harrison had escaped more than one of those himself.

"I really don't think they'd let you in, miss."Harrison found it strangely easy to talk to the small woman, his usual caution dissipating like a rising fog. "Besides, there are only enough tickets for the group I came with."

"So? I'll sneak in under your coattails. Or I would, if you had a coat." She bounced on her heels, excited as a child. "Bet you fifty bucks I make it past the bouncers."

"Miss, I really don't think it's a good idea. And I don't gamble. It's probably for the best if we just say good-bye now."

"Sheesh, it's not like I'll give you girly germs." She poked her finger into his chest. The sharp nail hurt.