The Brotherhood - Believe It Or Not Part 1

THE BROTHERHOOD.

BELIEVE IT OR NOT.

Willa Okati.

Dedication.

For "Merlin," "Nimue," "Loki," and "Numfar," and in memory of "Ringo." Purrrrrrrr.

Prologue.

This is a story about the impossible.

Things that can't be real, but are.

Things that shouldn't work the way they do.

Things that don't behave the way we expect them to.

The impossible things are part of our everyday lives, and you'll see them if you stop and look -- really look.

Do you believe?

Immediately following the meeting of the Brotherhood in book 1,Amour Magique,wherein the idea of going to the club was proposed and agreed upon...

"Lord, Lord, what fools these mortals be," Liam murmured to himself as he nimbly made his way down the crowdedCharleston sidewalks. "What manner of men squabble and take a vote, a very vote, on whether or not to accept my offer of a night of pleasure?"

To think the men of the Brotherhood had been of the verge of refusing his offer! Lucky for them, they had not. Quite lucky. Liam had it in mind to use the planned night at Amour Magique as not just a good time, but as a means to help his Brothers find the true love they each craved. All of them needed someone to love, though a good half of the men in the group would never admit it.

"They are enough to make anyone throw up their hands, then surrender the fight," Liam grumbled. A woman, short and squat, gave him an odd look as she pa.s.sed him on the sidewalk and clutched her purse tighter.

Liam ignored her and muttered on as he walked. He had gotten into the habit of talking to himself some centuries ago and saw no reason to stop. Most people who didn't know Liam took a single look at him and thought:Lunatic. Harmless, but bananas .

People whodid know him thought much the same, but bah! Such was life.

And Liam had lived a very, very lengthy life.

Frustrated, Liam nimbly kicked an empty soda can off the pavement, lofting it into a nearby trash bin, neat as you please. He could and normally did manage his own affairs quite capably, but in the matter of the Brotherhood he was beginning to wonder if he had overreached himself.

Trading aTear of Lilith ... oh, he trod in dangerous waters there.

Lilith, his mother. What would she say if she knew? Perhaps he should find out. No? Yes? Yes. He would call upon Lilith and ask for her guidance. Not the happiest of prospects, as Lilith was capable of severe discipline if she was displeased with someone, but the wisest nonetheless. She would know if he had been wrong to do what he'd done.

Surely the Brothers deserved happiness as much as, if not more, than the other lovers of men that Liam had helped through the centuries. Every Brother had been done terribly wrong at the hands of their former partners -- they would not love again unless drastic measures were taken. And Liam had grown fond of the men, from prissy Micah, the ex-model, to gentle David, the antiques refurbisher, to good-humored veterinarian Allen.

Harrison, however...Harrison bothered him. Often silent during the meetings, the tall, solidly built man had an air about him that made Liam uneasy for reasons he couldn't name. Liam could not readHarrison as he did the others. That lack of knowledge made planning forHarrison 's evening at Amour Magique difficult. A troubling situation.

What Liam did know of the man was bad enough.Harrison appeared to be a one-hundred-percent cynic when it came to matters of the heart, having been betrayed by his old paramour Oliver. They'd not only been lovers, but good friends as well, given to teasing one another.Harrison had known how to laugh when he'd had Oliver in his life, and he had trusted Oliver with his heart, his body, and so much more...

until the day Oliver disappeared.

Harrison's lover had left no note or any traceable phone number. AsHarrison had once told the Brothers, Oliver had simply vanished without a word. What the lecturer had not told the support group was that Oliver had also cashed in their mutual CDs and IRAs, adding more injury to insult.Harrison would likely have sued if he'd been able to find the man. Given the circ.u.mstances,Harrison hadn't had the funds for a lawyer or a private investigator, and the police had merely snickered their way through a farcical "investigation" of what he'd heard them call a "f.a.g fight" before closing the case.

For all that,Harrison still kept a picture of Oliver and had mentioned its existence before. Liam would have liked to believe thatHarrison kept the photo to remind himself of better times, as the man had intimated to the Brothers; instead, the incubus suspected the image of Oliver served as a symbol of proof that men could not be trusted. The game had gone to Oliver -- and Liam knewHarrison never let himself forget how easily he had been, and could again be, betrayed. Thus,Harrison had abandoned any hint of hope of finding a decent man, training himself out of the ability to love.

Even Collin, that cold-as-ice stockbroker, seemed more likely to thaw.

Yes,Harrison would be a challenge.

"Well, well, you never know until you try, yes?" Liam cheered himself on a bit. "He is only a man, after all, no matter how aloof he holds himself. Amour Magique will tap and tap, like a miner seeking a vein of gold, until it finds a way in. The club's power never fails."

Despite the continued wary looks of pa.s.sersby who glanced at him and saw him apparently merrily chatting away to no one, Liam's mood was greatly improved. He found his way home content and unimpeded.

Homewas a vast estate that had long since been bought by a soulless corporation and redone into condominiums. Liam could have afforded one on the top floor -- indeed, he could have afforded to buy the entire complex if he chose. Rather, he contented himself with a modest s.p.a.ce left over after renovations, charitably called an "efficiency apartment," and rented at an exorbitant fee. Snug and cozy,the place suited him as a hidey-hole for the time being.

He had to enter around the back; his apartment's door faced away from the street so as not to be an eyesore. Liam dug a single key out of his jeans pocket and fitted it into the lock. In truth, he didn't need keys, not as such, but he liked them and it suited his whimsy to use them. The door swung open, revealing the Spartan lines of his home in the half-gloom of the streetlights.

It took but a word to ignite candles and to start a fire in the tiny grate. He didn't need the blaze, for the weather was warm and he could always adjust his internal body temperature, but he liked the crackling sound and fragrant scent of the flames. As for the candles, they were the illumination of seduction, his favorite. Give him a beeswax taper over an appalling modern lamp any day.

Now that the place was suitably aglow, he could see his home more clearly. No doubt the men of the Brotherhood would be surprised at how plainly he lived. Cheap, serviceable gray carpeting. Walls painted a bland -- and supposedly soothing -- shade of cream. One battered couch, a scarred bed, a vintage microwave, a small dorm refrigerator, two sets of plain ceramic dishes and two sets of silverware, a single wooden goblet, and of course, the iron candle sconces.

A mirror hung on the wall by the door. His only other decoration was a picture of Lilith as rendered by a street artist inLondon . Liam didn't consider the drawing to be an accurate representation of the Lady as he knew his mother, but the sketch -- stark lines that managed to convey her as both beautiful and terrifying -- had always pleased Liam. Who knew how many guises his mother had taken over the years?

He certainly didn't. Lilith might well have looked like the sketch once.

There had been a spot of rain when he'd left the Brotherhood meeting; Liam was soggy. He dried himself by absently chanting the powerful words of an old spell, one which came in rather handy on just such occasions. Then, on impulse, he stripped naked, folding his jeans and s.h.i.+rt neatly over the arm of the couch.

Ahh, so much nicer! Incubi always did feel their best when they were free of clothing. They hadn't been created to be bound by jeans or robes or even -- ha! -- fig leaves, after all.

Comfortable in his nudity, Liam settled himself cross-legged on the floor before his fire and basked in the toasty glow. He knew his hair would be frizzling into fuzzy ringlets from the heat, but eh, what matter? He had other things to concern himself with.

A Tear in exchange for the Brotherhood's entry into Amour Magique -- and all that that entailed. A steep fee. Too steep? Would he find himself regretting the bargain?

Liam had thought he knew his mind. Now, he found himself not quite so certain.

Ah, well. There were times when even an incubus needed a bit of advice. Liam thrust his bare hand into the fireplace and picked up a glowing ember. The fire didn't scorch or singe his flesh.

"Mother, have you a moment? It is your wayward son Liam who calls you." He added no pleas or flattery or bribes. Lilith, first wife of Adam as the story went, had thousands of offspring, the Lilim, and many affairs of her own to attend to.

She would come, or she would not.

Liam waited patiently, ready for whatever might happen. It didn't matter that he was undressed. If hismother came, she would take no notice; nudity was the natural state for an incubus.

To while away the minutes in antic.i.p.ation of Lilith's response, he hummed a small tune he'd learned in seventeenth-centuryRussia . Then, he engaged in several mathematical puzzles drawn in some spilled ashes before trying to see if he could wiggle each toe independently of the others. He had never quite gotten the knack.

"This little piggy went to market," a woman's rich, fruity voice scoffed. "Honest to Pete, Liam. You're cute as can be, sure, but are you ever going to grow up?"

"Mother." Liam sighed in pleased relief at the sight of his parent. Lilith appeared in the hearth as a ghost among the flames. She grinned at him -- a frightening look for someone like Liam, who didn't trust in the ties of blood to keep himself free from harm.

"Hiya, Liam. Or if you want to be formal... 'How now, spirit!... Whither wander you? Either I mistake your shape and making quite, or else you are that shrewd and knavish sprite call'd...' my kid."

Her words were biting as usual, for Lilith was not a gentle lady. In spite of that, Liam could hear the undercurrent of affection.

To amuse her, he returned her quote with a quote. "'Thou speak'st aright; I am that merry wanderer of the night....' Liam, as I am now known."

Lilith snorted; however, he could tell she loved their banter. "Like I don't know which of mine you are.

I'm old, and I've got way too many of you little b.a.s.t.a.r.ds to keep up with properly, but I've still got my eye on each and every one. Don't you ever forget it, either."

"I will not," Liam promised. He never had, for a particular reason of his own: Lilith did have a mult.i.tude of children, but he often suspected himself to be a favorite. She liked the unusual, and a gay incubus definitely qualified.

"Will you come out and meet me?"

"Maybe. Got anything to drink?"

"Domestic beer?"

"Pansy-a.s.sed horse p.i.s.s. Nothing else?"

"A sports drink? Very good for boosting one's energies."

"Try harder."

Liam thought. "Ah! I had almost forgotten, but I do have a bottle of tequila. A gift from Bree, the rebel among those in the Brotherhood. I must warn you; he said it tasted like dung when he pa.s.sed it off to me."

"And you took it?"

"It amused me to do so." "Yeah, well, I've heard about this Bree. If he thought it tasted like dung -- you better believe I'm pretty d.a.m.n sure he didn't use the word 'dung' -- it's probably good stuff. Here, give me a hand." Lilith reached out from the hearth.

Liam stood and helped pull his mother into the room. Once out of the flames she took on solid form and stood with her hands on her hips, scanning the room with the occasional roll of her eyes.

Liam humbly sat back down and admired her. Lilith liked to, as humans said, move with the times. That night she appeared to be a young girl, no more than twenty-one years in mortal age. She'd styled her glossy black hair into a rough-and-tumble boyish s.h.a.g with the tips dyed crimson and wore heavy Goth makeup, including black lipstick. A fitted black men's unders.h.i.+rt, black jeans, black boots, and studded collar with matching bracelets completed her ensemble.

"So, you mentioned tequila? And criminy, Liam, I raised you better than this. What are you doing living like a monk in a bas.e.m.e.nt instead of living it up? Comeon ."

Lilith waved one hand, decorated in chunky silver rings, and the room filled with lush pillows in a rainbow of colors, decadently inviting furniture with soft cus.h.i.+ons and rich fabrics, and popular art in silver frames.

Liam liked things the way they had been but knew far better than to refuse Lilith's gifts. "Thank you, Mother," he offered in polite response.

"Shyeah, whatever. Looks a little better, but d.a.m.ned if I'll do the whole thing myself. Don't you use magic to finish the rest of this; get your hands good and dirty, okay? It's great for the 'soul.'" Lilith cackled. "So, you ever hear of Home Depot? I'm thinking you need track lighting in here, son. You gotta get your head out of the Dark Ages."

Liam chuckled. "Again, I thank you. And may I say that you look wonderful, Mother?"

"Yeah, well." Lilith shrugged as if she didn't care, and then she preened as if she did. "A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do. The Goth look? More of an 'emo' kinda thing, but it throws the fear of -- heh -- into the guys and dolls I pay a visit to." She grinned, revealing sharp white teeth. "So, now that this place is fit for company, I'm going to have a seat."

She did just that, flopping onto his newly plush, pouffy couch and crossing her legs at the ankle. "What's up, sonny-boy? Just wanted to say hi, or is something on your mind?"

Liam knew Lilith was already aware why he had called her, but he humored her and responded. "I needed to speak with you."

"Yeah... kinda wanted to have a word with you, myself." Lilith twined one finger around the heavy silver pentacle necklace she wore. "I heard you traded one of my Tears. I'mLilith . The original tough b.i.t.c.h, depending on what holy text you read. I cry maybe once every million years or so. The Tears are priceless, and you tossed one away for a boys' night out?"

"'A merrier hour was never wasted there.'"

"Sure, throw the Shakespeare back in my face; go ahead."

"Mother, I did trade one Tear for the sake of my friends, but I kept the other you gifted me with," Liamexplained with proper humility. "I still hold the one you shed in triumphant joy when you fought off my brothers and sent me on my way, s.h.i.+elded against harm from any of the other Lilim. I told the manager of Amour Magique that what I traded him was a Tear you wept when forbidden to copulate with one thousand demons a day. In truth, the Tear he now holds was simply one that you shed in anger at Adam in the Garden of Eden."

Lilith's annoyed expression softened a little. "Yeah, well... fine, those Tears are c.r.a.p. They're not nearly as emotionally significant, so I'll let you get away with playing Trading Post this time. I'm still p.i.s.sed at you, though. You should have at least asked, but, nooo, you just jumped right in."

"My only worry is that I have offended you."

"Bulls.h.i.+t, that's your only worry. Liam, your heart's way too big for an incubus. It's gonna get you in trouble someday." Lilith placed a finger against her lips. "No, wait, it already has. Do you have any idea what this little adventure is gonna cost you? Sonny Jim, you've been alive for sweet, fancy Moses knows how long, and even I can't tell if you're going to be able to hack what you're up against withHarrison ."

"I know it will be hard."

"d.a.m.n right."

"But I believe I can do this."

"You'd better. When any son of mine sets out to do something, I expect him to do it right. Meh. You'll probably be okay, but I'll give you a word of advice." She flicked him a sharp, knowing glance. "All those other guys in your Brotherhood will be okay.Harrison , though, he's different."

"He... troubles me. There is something about him in particular that makes me uneasy."

"It should.Harrison is a serious nonbeliever. A man that set against love, s.e.x, and romance is gonna be a tough nut to crack, given the deal you made and your vow to find true love for all the Brothers. He'll fight hard against someone daring to play matchmaker. Besides, by the time you get to him, you're gonna be p.o.o.ped. So be prepared, kid."

"I see. But why?"

Lilith shrugged. "The Wheel of Fortune turns and turns, and I don't mean the game show. How oldis Vanna, anyway? Her and d.i.c.k Clark, I swear they sold their souls to something. They should've come to me. But yeah,Harrison 's been around the carousel of fate so many times he ought to be permanently dizzy. Hint: he's had a lot of bad luck when it comes to love in his previous lives. Tends to pick exactly the wrong man until he finds 'the one.' He's got a soul mate, y'see, but every time they get close in a new life something goes kerboom, and they're parted for another cycle. That kind of a karmic b.i.t.c.h builds up into a heavy load after a while. You know how it goes."

Ah, Liam reflected ruefully, he was getting old. So that was what he had been unable to comprehend.

He should have come up with these answers on his own. "I begin to grasp the complexities involved. But, tell me, has he given himself in love before? Can that knowledge come back to him, too?"