Black Swan Collected Tales, Books 7-9

- Title Page

- SECTION 1 : Characters

- SECTION 2 : Terms, Places, Things

- PROLOGUE

- CHAPTER 1

- CHAPTER 2

- CHAPTER 3

- CHAPTER 4

- CHAPTER 5

- CHAPTER 6

- CHAPTER 7

- CHAPTER 8

- CHAPTER 9

- CHAPTER 10

- CHAPTER 11

- CHAPTER 12

- CHAPTER 13

- CHAPTER 14

- CHAPTER 15

- CHAPTER 16

- CHAPTER 17

- CHAPTER 18

- CHAPTER 19

- CHAPTER 20

- CHAPTER 21

- CHAPTER 22

- CHAPTER 23

- CHAPTER 24

- CHAPTER 1

- CHAPTER 2

- CHAPTER 4

- CHAPTER 5

- CHAPTER 6

- CHAPTER 7

- CHAPTER 8

- CHAPTER 9

- CHAPTER 10

- CHAPTER 12

- CHAPTER 13

- CHAPTER 14

- CHAPTER 15

- CHAPTER 16

- CHAPTER 17

- CHAPTER 18

- CHAPTER 19

- CHAPTER 20

- CHAPTER 21

- CHAPTER 22

- CHAPTER 23

- CHAPTER 24

- CHAPTER 25

- CHAPTER 26

- CHAPTER 27

- CHAPTER 28

- CHAPTER 29

- CHAPTER 30

- CHAPTER ONE

- CHAPTER TWO

- CHAPTER THREE

- CHAPTER FOUR

- CHAPTER FIVE

- CHAPTER SIX

- CHAPTER SEVEN

- CHAPTER EIGHT

- CHAPTER NINE

- CHAPTER TEN

- CHAPTER ELEVEN

- CHAPTER TWELVE

- CHAPTER THIRTEEN

- CHAPTER FOURTEEN

- CHAPTER FIFTEEN

- CHAPTER SIXTEEN

- CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

- CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

- CHAPTER NINETEEN

- CHAPTER TWENTY

- CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

- CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

- CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

- CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

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The Knights of Black Swan VAMPIRE HUNTERS reading in order strongly recommended

1. My Familiar Stranger (Black Swan 1)
2.The Witch's Dream (Black Swan 2)
3.A Summoner's Tale (Black Swan 3)
4.Moonlight(Black Swan 4)
5.Gathering Storm (Black Swan 5)
6.A Tale of Two Kingdoms (Black Swan 6)
7.Solomon's Sieve (Black Swan 7)
Prince of Demons (A Black Swan Novel)
8.Vampire Hunter (Black Swan 8)
9.Journey Man (Black Swan 9)
10.Inis Gael, A Hawking Yule (Black Swan 10) November 2016

The New Scotia Pack WEREWOLVES

1.Shield Wolf: Liulf (New Scotia Pack 1)
2. Wolf Lover: Konochur (New Scotia Pack 2)
2.Born of Fire: Cinaed (New Scotia Pack 3) December 2016

Exiled, THE HYBRIDS reading in order strongly recommended

1.Carnal (Exiled 1)
2.Crave (Exiled 2)
3.Charming (Exiled 3) June 2016

The Witches of Wimberley (new series Summer 2016)

CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE

Two Princes Sons of Sanctuary MC, Book 1.

Real Magic (October 2016)

Knights of Black Swan

Box Set 7-9

Solomon’s Sieve

Vampire Hunter

Journey Man

Swanpedia

SECTION 1: Characters

Ainsley - Black-on-Tarry horse groomer / handler. (8)

Archer "Magman" - Ralengclan scientist, Stagsnare Dimension. In charge of deciphering Monq's research, particularly regarding interdimensional travel. (3,5)

Ariel - Deliverance's mother. (2)

Baph - Angel Wolfram Storm's private nickname for the loan shark, Richard Shade (5)

Baka, Heaven - Wife of Istvan Baka. (9)

Baka, Istvan - An ancient vampire, prisoner and advisor to The Order of The Black Swan. (Series)

Balkin, Stefan - The male vampire character in a romance novel written by Istvan Baka under his pseudonym, Valerie de Stygian. (3)

Barrock, Bolstoi "Bo" - Jefferson Unit Trainee, Glen's Assistant. (5,7)

Blackie - The big Alsatian dog that Elora befriended, tamed, trained, eventually becoming her pet and protector. (Series)

Blackmon, "Prune Face" - Young Storm's teacher. (2) Alternate dimension version. (5)

BlueClaw - Stalkson Grey's native ShuShu friend. (4)

Blytheness, February "Rue" - Past life specialist assigned to Edinburgh. American originally from Boston. (3)

Bonheur, Genevieve - Farnsworth's assistant in the Operations Office. (7) Operations Manager turned vampire (9)

Borrini, Matteo - Anthropologist, University of Florence whose discoveries are cited in a memo read by Mercy. (7)

Brachen, Agent - Canadian security agent put in charge of Song and Duff. (6)

Brandywine, Litha - "Witch tracker. Employed by The Order. Renamed Litha Liberty Brandywine. Daughter of Deliverance. Wife of Storm. Mother of Rosie. (2,7,9)

Brave - Human prince of demons. Real name "Bruce". (Prince of Demons)

Caelian, Sir Chaos "Kay" - Berseker from South Texas. Member of B-Team. Storm's partner. (Series)

Caelian, Skulda "Squoosie" - Kay's older sister closest to his own age. (2)

Caelian, Urda "Urz" - Kay's oldest sister. (2)

Caelian, Verdandia "Dandie" - Kay's middle sister. (2)

Catch, Glendennon "Glen" - Rookie trainee. Dog walker. (1,2,8) In charge of Elora's rescue. (3) Candidate for Jefferson Unit sovereign. (4) Acting sovereign Jefferson unit. (5) Sovereign (7)(Series)

Cheng - Member of D team (8)

Chorzak, Kellan “Spaz” - aka Spazmodoc and The Voice of the Fray. Announced the skirmish with Stagsnare aliens at Jefferson Unit. (5,7)

Copeland, Miles - Music teacher to Kevin Durry as a gift along with a violin from Ram. Character named after one of Victoria's favorite music industry professionals, elder brother of Stuart Copeland, POLICE. (8)

Crisp - Jefferson Unit's mess maitre'd (Series)

Cufaylin, Brother "Cufay" - Cairdeas Deo monk who "adopted" Litha. Also, a monk by the same name was a resident at the Cozio Monastery in Romania in the 15th century and was Baka's benefactor and employer. (2,3,4)

Culain - One of the Council. (6)

Cyon, Hal - Owner of the Halcyon Bar. (5)

Darnell, Gordy - The hunter who alerts Liam O'Torvall to the fact that he'd seen a child alone in the heart of the New Forest, but wasn't able to track him down. (8)

Dart - Callii Demon. Brave's boyhood friend. (POD 2)

Deliverance - Incubus from Ovelgoth Alla. Subspecies of Abraxas demons. Son of Obizoth (father) and Ariel (mother). Nephew of Pandora. (2,4,7,9) Also appears in Carnal, Exiled 1.

de Stygian, Valerie - The pseudonym under which Istvan Baka writes vampire romances. (1,3)

der Recke, Dankvart - One of the two founders of The Order of the Black Swan (1)

Doc Lange - Physician at the clinic at Edinburgh headquarters. (3)

Dorthan, Cleary - Royal tutor for Ram in New Forest. (8)

Driftmaker "Drift" - Elder of the Elk Mountain tribe of werewolves (4)

Durry, Kevin - Driver in whose truck the young Ram and Liam O'Torvall hitched a ride to the palace at Dublin. (8)

Elsbeth - Jefferson Unit nurse. Elora's first female friend in Loti Dimension. (1,8)

Etana - One of the Council. (6)

Falcon, Kristoph "Kris" - Jefferson Unit Trainee. Along with Rolfe Wakenmann, he was the first person to be decorated for bravery while still a trainee for courage in the Battle of Jefferson Unit against Stagsnare Dimension assassins. (5,7,9)

Farnsworth, Susan - Operations manager at Jefferson Unit. (1,8) Engaged to Sol Nemamiah (4) Married to the Jefferson Unit Sovereign. (7) Operations Manager (9)

Farouche - Ralengclan assassin. Second in command to Archer "Magman" (5)

Farthing, Reverence Foster "Rev" - Sol's reincarnated identity (7,9)

Fennimore, Sir Dirk "Fenn" - Black Swan knight from Jefferson Unit. Had been considered as 4th member before Elora. (1,5,7,8)

Finngarick, Mick - Torn's deceased father. (4)

Finngarick, Torrent "Torn" - Elf on Z Team. From Dunkilly, Donegal, Northern Ireland. (4,5,7)

Finrar - The angel Kellareal's disguise as an elf hermit. Tells Glen and Rosie the story of the origins of the elf fae war. (6)

Flame - Dolmen wolf pack female. (3)

Fortnight - Member of D team (8)

Forzepellin, Robert "Glyphs" - aka Bob. Z Team member. (5)

Gaia - Aelsong's assigned roommate when she first arrived Edinburgh. (2,3)

Galfae and Galfin - Twins who fathered the races of elves and fae. (6)

Gheorghita - Baka's first wife from his life as a mortal. (1)

Grey, NightCloud "Cloud" - Stalkson Grey's daughter-in-law. (4)

Grey, Stalkson (King) - "The alpha of the Elk Mountain werewolves. (2,3,4) Also a central character in the New Scotia Pack series.

Grey, Windwalker "Win" - Son of Stalkson Grey. Heir apparent to the Elk Mountain Reservation werewolf pack. (4)

Grieve, Haversfil - Prince Duff Torquil's male secretary. (4,6)

Gustafsven, Gunnar "Gun" - Z Team member. (5,7)

Hallows, Sir Ruddy - Eighteenth century Black Swan knight who discovered/captured Istvan Baka and transported him to Fort Dixon. (3)

Hannyran, Able - Elfen teenager who guided Kay to Ram's New Forest cottage. (3)

Harvest, Sinclair "Sin" - Trainee transferred to Jefferson Unit. Peer of Falcon and Wakenmann. (7) Knight. Member of K Team (9)

Hawking, Aelsblood "Blood" - Ram's older brother. King of Irish Elves. (2,8)

Hawking, Aelshelm "Helm" Laiken-Storm - Son of Ram and Elora. (3)

Hawking, Aelsong "Song" - Princess of Irish Elves. Ram's sister. Psychic employed by The Order. Principal character in A Tale of Two Kingdoms. Wife to Prince Duff Torquil of Scotia. (2,3,6,8)

Hawking, Ethelred Mag Lehane - Ram's father. King of Irish Elves. (2,6,8)

Hawking, Sir Rammell "Ram" Aelshelm - Oldest member of B Team. Elora Laiken's partner. Prince of Irish Elves. (Series)

Hawking, Tepring - Ram's mother. Queen of Irish Elves. (2,6,8)

Helena - Baka's third wife. (3)

Heralda the Dark - One of the Council. (6,7)

Hillknocker, Tommy - Guard on duty at the New Forest gate when Rammel's father, the king, arrived. (8)

Huber Quizno - One of the Council. (6,7)

Igvanotof, Minister - Bulgarian Minister of Antiquities. (7)

Innes, Peyton - Duff Torquil's friend and solicitor. (6)

Javier - One of a group of young, French immortal vampire who are "real" immortals. (4,5,7)

Jean-Etienne - One of the "real" vampire immortals. Baby sitter for the group of French adolescent vampire. (4,9)

Jorge - Partner of Reverence Farthing (Rev), killed in the line of duty in Brazil. (7)

Jungbluth, Count - One of the two founders of The Order of the Black Swan (1)

Katrina - Sir Chaos "Kay" Caelian's love interest. (1) fiance. (2,7) wife.

Kellareal "Lally" - Litha's mysterious angel friend who helps Stalkson Grey with relocation. (4,5,7) Also appears in Carnal, Exiled 1.

Kilter, Hogmaney - The constitutional scholar consulted regarding the succession to the throne of Irish Elves. (6)

Laiken, Lady Elora - The heroine of the Black Swan saga. This is her story. (Series)

Landsdowne, Sir Basil Wrathbone "Lan" - K.I.A. member of B Team. Ram's former partner. Had occupied the apartment given to Elora when she was released from the infirmary. (Series,1,8)

Lapis - Litha's grandmother. Witch in Spirit World who speaks to Stalkson Grey. (4,9)

Lapsrain "Rain" - Stalkson Grey's late wife. Mother of Windwalker. (4)

Lefrick - Istvan Baka's vampire partner who reinfected him in A Summoner's Tale. (3)

Logature, Arles - Mediator of the elf fae peace talks. Human disguise worn by the demigoddess, Etana. (6)

LongPaw - Elder of the Elk Mountain tribe of werewolves. (4)

Luna - Virgin kidnapped from Cult of Vervain by Stalkson Grey. (4) Also appears in the New Scotia Pack series as the homeopathic wise woman.

Madelayne - Elora's cousin. Her best friend in Stagsnare Dimension. (1)

Magnus, Caliber "Cal" - Mercenary Temp Sorcerer (1) Adventurer (POD 1)

Margaret - Director Tvelgar's executive administrator. Long time institutional fixture at headquarters in Edinburgh. (5)

McBride (Baka), Heaven - Istvan Baka's wife. The summoner from A Summoner's Tale. (3,9)

Ming Xia - One of the Council. (6,7)

Mironescu, Marilena - Baka's second wife. (1)

Monq, Thelonius C. - Elora's tutor in Stagsnare Dimension who sent her off world in a pre-experimental transport device. (1)

Monq, Thelonius M. - Black Swan's head scientist, stationed at Jefferson Unit. (Series)

Mossbind, Brother - One of the seven monks of the Cairdeas Deo Order that raised Litha. Mossbind was the resident homeopath. (4)

Nance, Dr. - Headquarters doctor on staff in Edinburgh treating Elora during her pregnancy. (3)

Nememiah, Sol - Title is Sovereign. Administrative head of the Black Swan Knights at Jefferson Unit. (Series)

Nibelung, Gautier "Ghost" - Black Swan knight considered to replace B Team member, Lan. KIA. (1,8)

Nightsong, Rafael "Raif" - One of Z Team knights. Will not use his last name. Glen calls him the "Black Knight". (5,7)

Obizoth - Deliverance's father. (2)

O'Malley, Ren - Black-on-Tarry craftsman. Patriarch of the family known for making fine bows and arrows in the New Forest village. (8)

O'Moors, Harefoot "Harry" - Stray Irish werewolf captured in London and adopted by Stalkson Grey's tribe. (2,4,5) Also appears in the New Scotia Pack series.

O'Torvall, Liam - Serves informally as mayor of Black on Tarry. Was Rammel's guardian when he stayed in the New Forest cottage as a boy. (1,3,8)

O'Torvall, Moira - Liam's wife. (3,8)

Pandora - Ariel's sister. Grand Mother, Cult of the Moon Vergins, Throenark Dimension (4)

Peregrination "Perry" - Callii Demon. Brave's friend and chief of security. (POD 2)

Pietra - Flight attendant. (7)

Point Wolf - Dolmen wolf pack look out. (3)

Pottinger, Rosie - Litha's mother, the apothecary's daughter and Deliverance's lover. Elora Rose Storm's, aka Rosie, namesake. (2)

Puddephatt, Richard J. - Oxford professor who knowing the history of the Danu resolved the question as to the difference between elf and fae. (6)

Puddephatt, Xavier - Headquarters researcher with Aspergers. Helped Rosie locate Glen’s family. (9)

Ragnal - One of the Council. (6,7)

Randeskin, Sir - One of the Black Swan knights Storm encountered during the time when he was stranded in Halcyon Dimension. (5)

Rathbone, Alder - Lan’s uncle. Recruits Rammel into Black Swan. (8)

Ravin, "Lana" Atalanta - Heroine of Prince of Demons Trilogy. (POD Trilogy)

Rejuvenata (Luna) - Luna's name given to her by the Cult of Vervain (4)

Renaux, Mercedes "Mercy" - aka Dr. Renaux. Historian / archeologist teaching at Columbia. Principal character in Solomon's Sieve.(7)

Rodgers, Mr. "Tums" - The vice principal at young Storm's public school. (2) Alternate universe version. (5)

Romescu, Helene - The female character in a romance novel written by Istvan Baka. (3)

Rothesay, Lft. - Stagsnare Dimension commander in charge of the first wave of assassins who attacked Elora in A Summoner's Tale. (3,5)

Rystrome, Pvt. - Ralengclan soldier, Stagsnare Dimension, assigned to first wave team of assassins. (3,5)

Shade, Richard "Dick" - Loan shark. Privately called "Baph" for Baphomet by Angel Wolfram Storm. (5)

Shakespeare - Author of the dark play, "A Season in Hell". (3)

SilverRuff - Alpha of the werewolf colony established by migration a thousand years earlier. (4)

Stalking Shadow - Stalkson Grey's late father. (4)

Stalkson Grey (wolf) - Named after the king of the Elk Mountain werewolf tribe. The alpha of the Dolmen pack of wolves that live in the New Forest, Northern Ireland. (3)

Stavna - Baka's eldest daughter. (3)

Storm, Angel Wolfram - Storm's counterpart who must learn to impersonate him perfectly. (5)

Storm, Elora Rose "Rosie" - Daughter of Storm and Litha. (4,5,9)

Storm, Engel Beowulf "Storm" - B Team de facto leader. (Series)

Storm, Evangeline "Eva/Birdie" - Storm's mother and Rosie's grandmother "Birdie." (5)

Tarriman - Part of the Stagsnare Dimension assassination project. The seventeenth test subject used in Archer's interdimensional transport experiment. (5)

Theasophie - One of the Council. (6)

Torquil, Duff "Duffy" - Prince of the Scotia Fae. (2,3,4,6)

Torquil, Lorna - Duff's mother. Queen of Scotia Fae. (6)

Torquil, Ritavish - Duff''s father, King of Scotia Fae. (6)

Tvelgar, Simon - Director of The Order's headquarters office at Edinburgh. (2,3,7,9)

Wakenmann, Rolfe "Wakey" - Jefferson Unit Trainee. (5,7) Knight (9)

Widow Brennan - Tutors Ram on plants, cooking, and playing stringed instruments when he was a child in the New Forest. (8)

Yanev, Professor - Bulgarian professor from Sofia University. Supervisor of the vampire dig. (7)

Zajac, Zutsanna - A dinner companion seated next to Elora who is working on a "top secret" project seemingly related to Elora's interdimensional transport. (1)

SECTION 2: Terms, Places, Things

abraxas - Type of elemental fire demon. (2)

Angland - England in Loti Dimension. (3)

Ashanabe - Werewolf Tribe in British Columbia. (9)

B Team - A.K.A. Bad Company. Black Swan's elite unit of knights stationed at Jefferson Unit, Fort Dixon, New Jersey. (Series)

Black on Tarry - The New Forest, Ireland village preserved in pre-technology living. (1,8)

blithemoss - An herb grown on Throenark by the Cult of Vervain for healing purposes. (4)

British Columbia - Western Canadian province where Duff and Song planned to live. (6) Site of Ashanabe werewolf tribe. (9)

Briton East India Company - Baka's shipping concern. (3)

Cairdeas Deo, Order of - Order of monks who raised Litha in Sonoma. (2)

Cape May, New Jersey - Location of Farnsworth's beach house. (7)

Coeur d'Alene - Idaho city near Elk Mountain werewolf tribe. (3,4) Also mentioned in New Scotia Pack Series.

Council - A group of misfit adolescent deities who were, given the planet and it's dimension as a group project; (Culain, Etana, Rager, Heralda the Dark, Ming Xia, Theasophie, and Huber Quizno.) (6)

Derry, Ireland - Seat of the Elfdom. Palace home to Rammel Hawking's family. (1,2,6,8)

Drac Unit - Nickname for Romanian Unit that housed Baka's prison. (1,3)

drayweed - herb that alters fetus gender, Throenark Dimension (4)

Dublin - Irish city. University, banking, and tourist trade. (8)

Dunkilly - Fishing village on Atlantic Coast of Ireland. The site of Mick Finngarick's wake. (5)

Edinburgh, Scotia - Site of Black Swan headquarters. (Series)

elf tales - Fairy tales told by Elora to Touchstone during his hospital recovery. (1) Renamed elf tales at Ram's insistence, retold and adapted by Ram when Elora was comatose. (8)

Elk Mountain, Idaho - Reservation. Location of Stalkson Grey's tribe of werewolves. (2)

Faroe Islands - First stop on Aelsong's and Duff's elopement flight. (6)

Field Training Manual - "#1 The plural of vampire is vampire." The FTM is the vampire hunter's resource guide. It contains information about vampire, their habits and proclivities, and also outlines rules of procedure and conduct expected from Knight of The Order of the Black Swan. (1)

Fort Dixon - Fictitious New Jersey military base that provided cover and the protection of a no-fly zone for Jefferson Unit. (Series)

frenalwort - herb that alters fetus gender, Loti Dimension (4)

gold - The universal currency. The only commodity accepted for trade across all worlds. (3)

Great Paddy - Reference of undetermined origin and uncertain meaning as used by Rammel Hawking (Series)

Great Vampire Inversion - Name given the era when it was believed that the vampire virus would be cured. (2)

Grunwald Unit - Black Swan unit near Berlin, Germany. (8)

Guadalupe River - Hunt, Texas site of two B Team weddings. (2)

Halcyon Bar - Where Storm worked when he was lost in another dimension. (5)

Halcyon Dimension - Home of Angel, Storm's counterpart. (5)

incubus - Male sex demon. (2)

Jeanne d'Arc Unit - Paris installation of The Order of the Black Swan. (9)

Jefferson Unit - Prominent facility of The Order housing active Black Swan knights, a training facility, and the largest scientific labs. (Series)

Sublevel 1- Classrooms, media center, server rooms, administration, all offices except for operations which was off the Hub.

Sublevel 2 - Research labs, Monq's suite, training simulators, firing ranges.

Sublevel 3 - Fitness center, sparring, pool.

K Team - aka Kid Team, as named by Ram. Kris Falcon, Rolfe Wakenmann, Harvest Sinclair, Kellan Chorzak (9)

Laiwynn - Elora's clan. (1)

London, Angland - Shopping. (2,9)

Loti Dimension - The reality called "Earth" by humans. (2)

Lunark Dimension - Where the Elk Mountain tribe's ancestors had migrated. (4)

Manhattan - New York City peninsula. (Series)

Marquise de Rambouilet - The Paris salon established by Catherine de Vivonne for French nobles who were patrons of the arts. (3)

New Elk Mountain - New settlement of werewolves who migrated from Loti Dimension. (4) Also in New Scotia Pack series.

New Forest, The - Northern Irish nature and culture preserve. Home of the Black-on-Tarry village, the royal hunting cottage retreat, and the wolf dolmen. (1,2,3,8)

Notte Fuoco - Manhattan night club where B team sets up an undercover mission to track down vampires. (1,8)

Ovelgoth Alla - Home dimension to Deliverance. (2)

Palio di Sienna - Horse race held in the center of town (Sienna, Italy) twice a year. (2)

Ralengclan - Rival Briton Clan from Elora's home world, Stagsnare Dimension. (1,5)

Rio de Janiero - Brazil city where Sol's corporeal host died. (7)

Shamayim Super Dimension - The afterlife. (7)

Shrifthet Dimension - Where authorities gave Elk Mountain boys a VISA for thirty days to find brides. (4)

Sienna, Italy - Site of Litha's disappearance. Gateway to Deliverance's lair. (2)

Solomon Nemamiah Medal of Honor - Given to Falcon and Wakenmann for courage under fire. (5)

Sozopol, Bulgaria - Site of the vampire dig. (7)

Stagsnare Dimension - Elora Laiken's dimension. Home of the Laiwynn and Ralengclan. (1,3)

The Norns - Kay's three sisters named after The Norns of Norse myth. (2)

Transylvania - Site of the Romanian Unit where Baka was held prisoner. (1,3)

Throenark Dimension - Home of the Cult of the Moon Vergins. Where Stalkson Grey snatched Luna. (4)

Washington Square - Common Manhattan visual. (9)

White Fang - Baka's contact name in Elora's cell phone. (1)

Z Team - aka Zed Company. Misfits transferred from Marrakesh to test Glen. (4,9)

Solomon’s Sieve

(Black Swan 7)

Victoria Danann

Copyright 2014 Victoria Danann

Published by 7th House, an Imprint of Andromeda LLC

PROLOGUE

The beach Cape May, New Jersey

Sol

Regrets? Well, sure. Nobody dies without regrets.

The only way to avoid that would be to sleep even less than I did and be rearranging your priorities every minute. Of course, if you rearranged your priorities every minute, then there’d be no time for anything else and, at the end of your life, you’d regret that you’d wasted your time working so hard at trying to reach the finish line without regrets that you never got anything done.

What’s my biggest regret? The first thing that comes to mind isn’t exactly a regret, but more a disappointment. I wish I’d had more time to spend with Farnsworth.

I never expected to find love so late in life. Neither did she. I asked her once why she’d never married. She said she was waiting for the right crusty old bastard to come along. I liked that answer. I liked just about everything about Farnsworth.

All those years I would stop off at the Hub and grab one of those rank strong coffees with a cheese and ham and egg thing they nuked while I waited, which was never long because the way I stared at them made them so fidgety they could hardly wait to give me my order and get me the hell out of their space. Makes me smile just thinking about it.

So every morning I was just steps away from where Farnsworth was in Operations, really running the whole show at Jefferson Unit while I was taking credit for it. Fuck me. She’s one of a kind.

It’s funny to think that all those years she was right there and we just never made that connection. I guess it’s not exactly funny.

Now that I have one foot on the other side, the pieces all fit together better and it’s easier to see things clearly. Got to stop and laugh at my own jokes, because who else is going to? That was funny because I only have one foot. Looks like the damn dune buggy cut off my leg. And my life. I’m bleeding out, listening to the weeping of the only woman I ever loved and that’s the hardest part.

The only reason I can joke about this is because it’s temporary. I can’t stay gone. There’s too much going on.

I was planning to wait until I got back from the first vacation I ever took in my life to inform the interested parties, that would be almost everyone I know, that the great bright promise of curing vampirism with a vaccine… well, it’s not working. And, unfortunately, the conclusion is that it’s not going to work. Ever.

It’s starting to look like it would be easier to rid the world of cockroaches and we all know how that’s going. No one doubts that, in the end, cockroaches will be the last life form left on Earth.

So I don’t have any plans for crossing to the other side and dancing in the sunshine or singing “Kum Ba Yah” with people who don’t have anything better to do. I’m going to lie here and wait until this body gives up the ghost, while this magnificent woman beside me cries her heart out. Then I’m going to raise hel until they find a way to bring me back.

CHAPTER 1

New York

The facilitator looked at him like she’d rather have him thrown out than help him get caught up to speed. Yes. He was late. Yes. He was a mess. “Is that blood on your face?” she’d asked, looking down her nose.

That’s only one of the shitty things that’s likely to happen when you pick the wrong fight in a battle with extra-dimensional assassins. Among others, you could end up locked in a freezing basement cage for hours.

His answer was to stare in bald challenge. “Just tell me where I’m supposed to be.”

She hesitated, but decided it would be less disruptive to the event to go along with the maniac than to cause a scene. “Very well, Mr…,” she looked down at the card, “Nightsong. Everyone will be changing stations in…” she looked at her stop watch, “five, four, three – go to station seven now – two, one.” She raised her voice. “Time everyone! Move on to the next table.”

Raif spotted the number seven and headed in that direction, clearing a path as people took one look and gave him a wide berth. When he got a look at the woman who had just sat down to wait for him at table number seven, he felt his dick jerk and that infuriated him. He flopped into the empty chair seething about the past twenty-four hours, about having to comply with a speed date because he’d lost a bet, about how unsatisfying his work for Black Swan had become, and about the fact that the cutie was getting a response from his pants that was not in line with how tired and dejected he was at the moment.

He refused to look at her. Instead, he looked around the room with a smirk. Speed dating. What could be more ludicrous for a guy like him? He had a progression of pleasure-giving penis piercings, commonly known as a ladder, and a reputation with women that was nothing to be ashamed of. Well, depending on who you talked to. But he’d never been on a “date” in his life.

His present discomfort was his teammate’s idea of a joke, the price of a wager that misfired.

“I’m Mercedes.”

The sound of her voice brought him back. He let his eyes roam over what he could see above the table top slowly, way too slowly for speed dating. It was an intimidation tactic intended to make her uncomfortable, deliberate or not. She was buttoned up all the way to the neck and he thought the closed tight look was out of place on a natural redhead with freckles that seemed to say, “Underneath this disguise, I’m as unruly as the pigment in my skin.”

“Rafael Nightsong.”

Her lips parted and stayed open for a minute, like she was thinking about repeating his name, but she recovered quickly and that look vanished. “So. What do you do?”

“Vampire hunter,” he said as nonchalantly as if the answer had been insurance salesman.

She supposed he must have been attempting some sort of theatrical goth look. The style was outrageous, but those eyes were such a pale shade of blue, framed by midnight black hair and lashes, they drew her in, compelling her to look and preventing her from looking away. One could almost believe that he actually was a vampire hunter.

Gathering her composure, she smirked. “I see. You must be too shy to talk about yourself. So, let me just refer to your card then.” She picked up a white four by six index card with the number seven in bold at the top. “I see you like long walks on the beach and pina coladas.” He barked out a laugh in spite of himself. He had to give it up. Torn Finngarick was a funny guy. “Let me guess. I’ll bet you also like getting caught in the rain.”

“Yes. I’m a simple guy, easy to read. Long walks on the beach and pina coladas are my idea of fun.” Her rust-colored eyelashes swept down and to the side as she looked away. “Sooooooo. Let’s see what your card says about you.” He shuffled through cards and held one up pretending to read. “Here we are. Little Miss Sheltered McManners. For fun you like spraying with Lysol and wearing stilts. All the better to look down on other people.”

“Mr… you know, really, the most interesting thing about you is that you chose Nightsong for a fake name. I don’t need stilts to look down on you. I could be lying face down on the floor and wouldn’t have any trouble.”

One of his brows arched. “Well, well, well. Honesty. Wasn’t expecting that.”

The facilitator’s voice rang out, “One minute.”

“Sixty seconds.” His malicious grin was sexy in spite of its intent. “Just long enough for me to say that I’ll bet your cunt is buttoned up tighter than your sweater. I’ll bet it’s so sanitary that it doesn’t even smell like pussy. A shame because I like the smell of pussy. For one thing it’s honest.”

Mercy didn’t think of herself as prudish, but hearing that tirade come from the mouth of a complete stranger sitting on the other side of white linen was shocking. While she was trying to make up her mind between blushing and blanching, he decided to add one parting comment.

“You know, hives is not a good look for you.”

“Time!”

She wasn’t about to allow that to be the last thing said between them. “You’re an authority of good looks? Have you seen a mirror? When did post-apocalyptic remnant become the new GQ? You look like an extra from a zombie movie set.”

“Time!”

He glanced toward the facilitator at the front of the room, who had repeated herself, more forcefully, for their benefit.

“Good. ‘Cause we’re done here.” He shoved the chair back as he stood, throwing his splayed hands out in front of him to punctuate his exit like a petulant teenager who’d been wronged.

“Excellent. Because I couldn’t have stood the smell a second longer.”

Three minutes later they were still standing at table seven, locked in an argument that seemed to be spiraling into a frenzy instead of winding down. While the other would-be speed daters turned spectators looked on, the facilitator kept helplessly calling “time” and was ignored.

Finally, Raif ended it by storming out of the restaurant and walked for two blocks in dense New York City pedestrian traffic before ducking into an alley. He stopped and put his forehead on the cold composition wall of the closest building.

“Gods’ teeth, why am I such an asshole? A big mouth, broken asshole?”

Fingers shaking, she gathered her purse and jacket without meeting the eyes of any of the onlookers. If she’d ever been more humiliated, she couldn’t remember when. She got almost to the end of the block before bursting into tears. So much for speed dating.

She was glad it was windy and cold for the six block walk back to Columbia. People would assume the color in her face was from weather and not from crying.

CHAPTER 2

Sol in Shamayim

He could pinpoint the moment when the well-oiled machine jumped its tracks. In fact, on reflection, he sensed she was going to be trouble the minute she materialized in midair and plopped on the floor as a bloody, oozing, pile of goo. He didn’t know what it was, but he knew it was a harbinger of change. Elora Fucking Laiken. Turned things upside down and inside out and, if it ever got back to ‘normal’ after she arrived, it never stayed that way for long. Babies at Jefferson Unit! Unbelievable!

In the beginning, after she recovered from the interdimensional journey and was given conditional freedom of the facility, he was resistant as stone to the idea of using her in Hunter Division. The idea of a female knight in Hunter Division would remain eternally ludicrous even though the gifts she acquired through transition to a new dimension outfitted her perfectly for the job of slayer.

There was only one thing that might change his position on the matter. It just so happened that the one thing was what they had to have – the help of a very old vampire. Luckily the vampire in question, Istvan Baka, took a fancy to the young lady. First he wanted a private audience, private being a highly relative term given that his every move was monitored by Knights of the Black Swan through a glass enclosure.

After he signed a contract to act as consultant, the vampire more or less embarrassed Sol into using Laiken’s unique talents by pointing out that she was very likely Black Swan’s most powerful asset. Yes. That’s exactly what he’d said during the same phone call when he’d asked for cleanup because the girl had just taken out a vampire. Alone. Without any training. With a toothpick!

After that he couldn’t really say no without looking like a chauvinistic ass wipe. So he let her replace Sir Landsdowne as fourth member of B Team. He’d hoped the three remaining members would draw a line, but two of them gave her an “up” vote.

For a little while it seemed like it might work out okay. Then Sir Hawking was disabled in a confrontation and she responded rash and ready, which got her eaten and infected by vampire. Well, that may have been overly harsh. No one asks to be eaten. Exactly.

Her partial conversion to vampire made for a fairly tense twenty-four hours, but it led to a miracle of science, courtesy of Laiken’s blood and Monq’s brilliance, Or so they believed.

Certainly the advent of a vaccine that would cure the vampire virus was heralded as the most important development in Black Swan history and none of them doubted it. Why would they? It seemed that centuries of dedication would resolve the vampire part of the organization’s activities with a feel-good win. Something no one would have ever thought possible.

It was The Order’s first ever cause for real celebration. Sol would never forget the slogan that popped up right away. “Shoot to cure.”

Of course it benefitted Baka. The vaccine gave the old vampire a new humanity card. Twice. No cause for complaint there. He was even tapped to head up the task force to convert hunters to healers, another great Vaccine Era slogan. He formed a network of rehabilitation and treatment centers for vampire who had been successfully reconverted to human.

The original target date of how long it should take to effectively stamp out vampirism was calculated based on the best guess estimate of the number of vampire, number of active hunters, and the amount of vaccine being produced and dispersed.

At first there was a marked decline in vampire activity. So much so that Jefferson Unit was quickly and efficiently reconceived as a research and training facility. Too quickly and efficiently in Sol’s opinion.

Of course J.U. had always been a research and training facility, but it had also been one of the crown jewels of the Black Swan Hunters Division, home to the most elite slayers on the planet. There was such a certainty that the vaccine was going to be the end of the vampire plague. The rush to reorganize and redistribute resources left Jefferson Unit feeling like a ghost town. The hunters and all the staff who supported them, including medical, were transferred. The facility felt sad, abandoned, and retired.

If that was the whole story, you might be inclined to say that it was a good time to die. And, if that was the whole story, he might have been inclined to agree. But he was privy to information about the progress of the “Great Vampire Inversion”. That was the name given to the era of revolution, when humanity would free itself from the most dangerous and most rampant of the monsters that make prey of people. It was a phrase that later mocked the hope it implied and made them seem childlike in their naïve and gullible rush toward belief in the vaccine as a fait accompli.

The reports had come in during his time away from work with Farnsworth. Sol had been called to Edinburgh for an urgent meeting and had to leave Farnsworth where she was and not knowing whether he’d make it back before the clock ran out on their vacation time. As a fellow employee of Black Swan, there was no question that she understood, but that didn’t make it feel less like leaving her on her own in the middle of their long-planned romantic interlude was a shitty thing to do.

Farnsworth though? In Sol’s opinion she was a great dame. She didn’t make him feel worse by looking disappointed, didn’t even mist up when he kissed her goodbye. The first ten years she worked at J.U. she saved most of what she earned by living in the small onsite apartment that came with the job. With food, utilities and housing included, she was able to sock away enough to make her modest dream come true.

She bought a precious yellow cottage on the beach at Cape May and spent whatever needed to be spent to keep it maintained to perfection. It was less than a two hour drive away from Fort Dixon, but it was a world away. Every chance she got she retreated to her little bit of private heaven.

When the question arose about where they would go for a romantic escape, she suggested her getaway.

“Don’t get me wrong. I appreciate a cheap date as much as the next guy, but I’ve got a lot of unused vacation funds. I could take you anywhere you want to go. Do anything you want to do.”

She gave him that special smile that never failed to make him feel like he was made of pure gold. Made his cock feel just about that hard, too.

She turned her chin up at an angle and kept a hint of that smile on her lips as she said, “Can I have a rain check on that? Next time I might just rise to the challenge of spending all your vacation stash, but this time I’d like to just hide you away and have you all to myself.”

Damn if that didn’t make Sol fall even more in love with her. Before that he would have said he couldn’t love her more, but she just kept stretching the limits. Like she was bringing a withered heart back to life and gradually filling it with healthy fluids, making it swell bigger and bigger.

“Whatever you say, beautiful.” She saw both love and amusement on his face when he reached up and tucked a stray tendril behind her ear. “Have me all to yourself, huh? I like the way you think.”

When the big day came, Sol borrowed Storm’s silver convertible Porche roadster. Storm had never driven it to California because he didn’t need it there. It had been parked in the underground at J.U. for months without use, but it turned over when Sol pressed the ignition. There were two seats in the car and not much room in the trunk, but most of what Farnsworth would want and need was already at her cottage.

It was too cold to put the top down, but convertibles are romantic even when the tops are up, wind noise and all. They have a way of making a vehicle's occupants feel young. And sexy.

On the trip down they chatted easily about places where they’d been, people they knew in common, and bucket list items even though it was still early in life for them to be composing bucket lists. When they were twenty minutes away, they made a grocery stop at the last supermarket en route. They bought more than the space left in the trunk, but Farnsworth was a good sport and laughed about sharing the passenger seat with one of Sol’s duffels between her legs.

It was cool but sunny when they arrived and the March wind was doing its reputation proud. Sol pulled the car underneath the house between thick weathered support pillars. There was a store room and guest room next to the carport, but the two floors she used as real living space began twelve feet above ground level.

He carried groceries and bags up the stairs while she opened up the house. That involved engaging the motorized storm shutters, lighting the pilot and turning on the heat plus her favorite part of the ritual - affixing a unicorn flag to its holder on the deck.

“There,” she said, turning toward Sol with a grin. “Now we’re officially in residence.”

He stared at the flag for a minute. “A unicorn?”

She laughed. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” It was a blue and white unicorn on a light gray background. And it was beautiful. As unicorns go it was dignified with a fine proud head, flying mane and long elecorn.

“I guess,” he conceded. His scowl was more obligatory than sincere, lip service to the code of macho.

Using an armload of logs from the half cord of firewood on the deck, Sol built a fire to warm up the cottage while they were waiting for the small gas furnace to do its job. When everything was put away, they drank a glass of wine and made love in front of the fire on a white rag rug that was so thick it felt like a pallet.

When Sol had assured her that he had the resources to take her anywhere she wanted to go, she had immediately formed images of having him in her house. And, once that vision had taken root, it appealed to her more than anything else she could think of.

Farnsworth was so accustomed to relaxing at the cottage and letting work stress dissolve away that her nervous system responded to the environment automatically and put her in getaway mode. Sol, on the other hand, had muscles that were knots on top of knots on top of knots. If he had ever known how to relax, it had been decades in the past and, certainly, the idea of "vacation" was foreign to his nervous system.

So he fidgeted and paced and suggested things to go and do. She sat watching him, casually sipping chardonnay, in a yellow cable sweater the same cheerful color as the cottage.

“Let’s go for a walk on the beach,” she said.

He stopped abruptly, his gaze going toward the ocean. “A walk on the beach?” He looked and sounded as if he'd never heard of such a thing.

“Um-hmmm.”

“What for?”

She chuckled and shook her head. “Just because. Go put on enough layers to keep you toasty and we’ll go see what there is to see.” He looked dubious. “Come on. It’ll be fun. I promise.”

“You promise?” His face split into a grin.

“I do.”

He swore he liked the sound of that, but he would have also sworn that he would hate walking on the beach. Maybe that would have been true under other circumstances, but doing things with Farnsworth just made them different. She had a way of transforming ordinary experiences into extraordinary events, simply by virtue of being there.

She taught him to like walking on the beach by changing his perspective. She pointed out sights like little birds that ran on the sand so fast you almost couldn’t see their skinny little legs and little crabs that ran out of holes on some unseen errand and then retreated to safety just as fast. Now and then she'd point to the remains of a seashell and tell him what kind it was. Through her eyes his consciousness was raised to appreciate the way sunlight dances on water, the way the color of the ocean changes to try and match the color of the sky, the way brightly colored windsocks whip in the wind against a blue sky background and make the whole world feel festive.

He began to see through her eyes, hear through her ears, feel her sensations, and little by little, day by day, the layers of tension fell away and she saw, for the first time, what his face looked like when the muscles were lax and not held rigid as steel.

One day he picked up a stick and threw it for a retriever someone was walking on the beach. When he turned back to her with a laugh and a glorious heart-stopping grin she said, “Solomon. You’re so lovely when you let go.”

His grin resolved into a smile. “Lovely? If you say so.”

“I do.”

He liked the sound of that every time he heard it. “I was just aiming for nice-looking. Did I overshoot?”

She laughed. “Indeed you did. By fathoms.”

“I think I’m keeping you”

He pulled her into a kiss that was far too passionate for a beach they shared with passersby. She thought about pulling away, was sure that pulling away was the appropriate thing to do, but her body was making the case that life was too short for propriety. So she returned his kiss with enough fervor to make sure he knew she meant it.

The days melted away into the closest thing to pure happiness that Sol had ever known. He didn’t remember feeling that happy or carefree even in childhood. And that was the state of his euphoria when the call came that he was needed at Headquarters immediately. The furrows in his brow reappeared instantly, the lines around his eyes were deeper, and the smile that had become perpetual disappeared.

She nodded as he promised to come right back if he could. He gave her the keys to Storm’s roadster and a soft, lingering kiss goodbye. When he reached the end of the deck he turned back once to see her watching from inside the glass door. She waved and his heart responded with a reluctance to go. He’d never before had a hard time with the call of duty and he cursed under a heavy sigh when he confronted just how much he didn’t want to leave her or that place. He would have given just about anything to stay right where he was.

But he didn’t.

He took a cab to Ocean City and paid dearly for a jet charter to New York where he could jump on a company transport to Scotia.

When he got to Simon’s office, Baka and heads of some of the other units that would be most affected by the news were already there. Sol thought he’d been in grim meetings before, but nothing compared to the somber vibe in Director Tvelgar’s conference room as he delivered the message that the tide had turned on the Inversion. Not only had the vaccine ceased to work, but the resurgent strain of virus mutation was stronger and faster than before, converting human to vampire within minutes of contact with the bloodstream.

As they went over the projections, each man present had felt his heart sag as he realized that the short, hopeful reprieve was turning into a bigger problem than they had before. Instead of reducing the number of knights in rotation, they were going to be hard pressed to meet the increased demand. They would have to recall every able-bodied retired hunter to active duty and begin inducting the trainees sooner than optimum.

The Hunter Division had developed a tradition of waiting until their knights-to-be were twenty-two before sending them into the field, although exceptions were made on a case by case basis. Though they might be physically capable by the time they were eighteen, they were generally thought to lack the judgment crucial to keeping them and their comrades alive. There were only three training facilities in the world. They were the units in London, Brasilia and New Jersey.

Dr. Tvelgar turned to the three men who were Sovereigns of those facilities and told them that they were to go home and begin gearing up by submitting requisitions for support staff and sending formal notices to a lot of retired knights who’d gone to bed that very night believing they’d seen their last hunt. They were informed that the active duty knights who had been transferred would be returned to their former units with no additional paperwork being necessary. They were also instructed that they were to begin the process of selecting trainees to “go” early. They would each need to contribute three to make the numbers work.

Somehow that was harder for the Sovereigns to digest than the idea of compelling retirees to return to a dangerous occupation from which they thought they’d successfully escaped and lived to tell the tale. They agreed they wouldn’t bring up any retirees over the age of forty, which was palatable enough. But the idea of sending the young against vampire before the age of psychological readiness was difficult. It smacked of sacrifice. And the training unit heads didn’t like it one bit.

At the same time they were told that people were being pulled from other Order duties to expand Recruiting and that they should prepare for larger incoming classes of fourteen-year-olds. The Sovereigns – looking older and grayer by the moment - glanced at each other with a taciturn solemnness and even the least sensitive of them was aware of the air grown heavier in the room. Still, they looked downright giddy compared to Baka.

Leadership had always required dedication and concentration, but the burden had never felt cumbersome, like lead weight. There wasn’t one person in the room who wasn’t silently wishing that they’d never heard of the vaccine. It was turning out to be three steps forward, ten steps back. And each step back represented deaths that they, as Sovereigns, would be responsible for cataloguing.

As they filed out of Simon’s office, Sol looked at Baka. “Looks like you better make a bigger effort to stay human this time.”

Baka turned toward Sol and cocked his head. “I suppose it could be said that the only good thing that came out of this was that I got my humanity back. No doubt there’ll be many in the future to say it wasn’t worth it.”

“What’s the final verdict on the others?”

Baka grimaced. “We didn’t have as much success with rehabilitation as we had hoped.” He looked away and lowered his voice like it hurt him physically to say the next sentence. “Nearly half became suicides.”

“Well, you know that thing about historical distancing and the big picture. Who’s to say how it will look in the annals when the dust settles?”

Baka tried a smile that didn’t quite work. “Good to see you, Old Man.”

Sol barked out a laugh. “You’re calling me old? Now that is funny.” When his smile died he said, “What are you going to do? You’re welcome to join my hunters at J.U. Storm always said you missed your calling, that you would have been a great vampire slayer.”

“No irony there.” Baka drew in a big breath. “Thank you for the offer. I guess I need to have a sit down with my wife. And, of course, we need to decide how this affects the, um, do you call them Animal House, too?”

Sol smirked. “Everybody calls them that but you.”

Baka nodded. “Well, we need to decide what part, if any, they’re going to play now that we’ve changed direction. Can I get back to you?”

“Anytime.”

Baka gave a lift of his chin as he started walking away, but stopped and turned. “The hardest thing is that there are some out there who could still be cured, but knights in the field have no way of recognizing which strain the infected are carrying, new or old.”

“No. They don’t,” Sol said slowly.

“So they all have to be treated as incurable hostiles.”

“I’m afraid so. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. It’s a shame. Huh?”

Sol had hung back and lingered in Simon’s outer office hoping to talk to him privately before he left.

“So, where were you when we called?”

Sol smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “On holiday with my girl. First one I’d ever taken. Wouldn’t you know?”

Simon sat behind his desk and cocked his head while he considered that. “First girl or first vacation?”

“Funny. First vacation.”

“Did you take her home or leave her stranded?”

“Neither. I left her at her vacation house at Cape May. Told her I’d come back if I could.”

“Hmmm. Well, I don’t see how taking another couple of days would make such a difference. We’ll be stipulating that your transferred knights and former staff have twenty days to report for duty. Why don’t you go finish your holiday on a good note? It may be a while before you get another.”

Sol nodded again. “Suspect truer words were never spoken. Thanks. I believe I will. She works for The Order, at my unit. So same goes for her.”

“Oh? Do I know her?”

“No idea. Her name is Farnsworth.”

Simon leaned back and laughed. “You and Farnsworth? Well, yes, I know her by phone. I’ve talked to her many times over the years, a marvel of efficiency.” He looked at Sol like he was studying him through a new filter. “Yes. I can see the two of you together. Is she a handsome woman?”

Sol smiled at Simon’s very British expression. “None can compare.”

“Well, then.”

“Well, then.” Simon stood, shook hands with Sol and walked him as far as the door of the outer office.

When Sol learned that he had to wait six hours to get a company jet back to New York, he decided to use the time productively. Baka told him about a jeweler a couple of blocks away. So he set out on foot to, as Farnsworth would say, “see what there was to see”.

Between waiting on the jet at The Order’s private hangar to refuel and get a maintenance check, the flight to New York, the charter to Ocean City, and the cab ride, he was traveling for eighteen hours. He tried to give some thought to the monumental tasks awaiting when he returned to J.U., but all he could think about was getting back to Farnsworth. He cursed himself for acting like a fifteen-year-old who had just found out that sex is even better than it sounds.

He texted her from the hangar at Edinburgh. It will be tomorrow, but I’m on the way back.

She responded almost immediately. I’ll be here.

“I’ll be here.” He repeated it in his head. He loved the sound of that. Sure and steady. His girl was somebody who could be counted on. Grounded. Mature. Ready for whatever came. She was so perfect he was sure she must have been made for him in some grand metaphysical scheme of things.

It was early morning when he made it back to the yellow beach cottage. Farnsworth wasn’t dressed yet. She was standing in the kitchen with a mug of coffee, her hair down and falling around her shoulders, wearing her navy blue Japanese silk robe. And Sol thought the smile she gave when she looked up to find him standing on the deck on the other side of the sliding glass door was by far the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.

He grabbed her before she’d opened the door all the way and backed her up to the kitchen counter with her giggling like a teenager. When he lifted her up and stepped inside her thighs, she gasped.

“Solomon, The door. Anybody could climb the stairs and walk up to the back door the same way you just did.”

“Then let’s give ‘em a show,” he growled into her neck.

They spent the rest of the day driving each other to exhaustion, like they were trying to make up for not having been together since they were young. When it started getting dark, Sol made pasta while Farnsworth – still in her robe, took a shower and changed. He lit a fire and was going to open a bottle of wine, but couldn’t find the opener.

When she came in, hair still damp at the ends even after blow drying, he stopped and stared like he hadn’t seen her before.

“What?”

A corner of his mouth went up. “Sorry. I guess I just, uh, like all your looks.”

She seemed embarrassed, like she wasn’t used to getting compliments on her appearance. Her eyes drifted toward the stove. “Smells good.” She looked at the bottle of wine sitting on the counter. “The Red Guitar. It’s my favorite. How did you know that?”

“Lucky guess? Oh. Where’s the wine opener?”

She moved toward a drawer that hadn’t opened when he tried it. “I keep the opener and the family heirlooms in the trick drawer.” He watched as she demonstrated the key. “You have to kick the baseboard underneath the bottom cabinet and pull at the same time.”

The drawer slid right out for her like magic.

He reached in for the wine opener not being able to help noticing the contents. “Family heirlooms huh?”

Shaking her head she looked at the drawer. “Well, the ice cream scooper did come from my grandmother’s.”

“Then I guess she made an honest woman out of you.” She laughed. “So how did you figure that out?”

“I didn’t. The realtor showed it to me when I took possession of the house.” Sol looked back at the drawer. “I know what you’re thinking. You’re wondering how many different things the former owners tried before they came up with that.”

“That is what I was thinking.” He let his eyes drift lazily down the front of her creamy knit sweater. “Know what I’m thinking now?”

“Hold on, Mister.”

He gave her that sardonic grin that never failed to make her heart stutter. “That’s Sovereign,” he said as he leaned closer.

“I’m hungry. Love slaves have to be fed.”

He leaned back on his heels and cocked his head to the side. “Is that negotiable?”

“Feed me.”

“Beg.”

“Please.”

“Oh. All right.” He turned back to the stove. “Now look what you made me do. The pasta is mushy.”

She started laughing. “I made you do that?”

“Yes. You came in here teasing me with shiny wavy hair and skin flushed from a hot shower and showed me tricks with a drawer. And all the while you were talking dirty.”

“I was talking dirty?”

“You kept saying family jewels.”

“I said no such thing. One time I said family heirlooms.”

“Jewels. Heirlooms. Same thing.”

“They are not!”

“I’ll show you mine…”

“Do I have to go down the road for takeout?”

“…you show me yours.”

“Or maybe I need to call 911.” He smiled. “I thought men your age were supposed to slow down in that department.”

He smiled bigger. “Who would have thought a woman your age could get me so hard? And keep me that way?”

She blinked. “Mushy pasta is okay with me.”

“You want me to go get you takeout?”

“Just put something in my mouth.” He leered. “YOU KNOW PERFECTLY WELL WHAT I MEAN!”

He flipped the dishtowel over his shoulder, poured a touch of olive oil over the ziti and swirled it around the colander like he did it every day. He dumped generous portions onto two plates, used tongs to deposit grilled chicken strips on top of that, covered it with marinara and green peppers, then topped it off with shredded parmesan.

When the plate was set before her and a glass of her favorite red was poured, she inhaled the steam and gave him a smile that was all the gratitude he needed. Sol sat down across from her and waited with anticipation while she paired a bit of chicken with two pieces of ziti to make one forkful. She put it in her mouth then immediately closed her eyes and began making yummy sounds.

“Stop.”

Her eyes flew open. She chewed quickly and swallowed. “Stop what?”

“Stop making those sexy humming noises if you want to get through dinner.”

She chuckled. “Have I ever told you that you’re the best thing that has ever happened to my ego?”

As soon as she had finished the last morsel on the plate, Sol moved her to the couch in front of the fire where he made love to her as slowly as if he thought it would be the last time ever. Something about it made her want to cry, but she didn’t. Farnsworth was not a crier. But she recorded the feeling and promised herself that she would take it out and look at it another time. An emotion potent enough to threaten tears was worthy of pondering further.

Later Sol covered them both with a blanket, but they stayed pressed against each other, skin to skin, as they talked about their future in hushed tones with the rest of the world far, far away.

After a while he slid off the couch and strode off toward the kitchen looking for the jacket left by the door.

He’d left Farnsworth watching him walk away in the full bounty of nakedness. She was constantly amazed at how the only signs of age on his body were the gray around the temples, the deep set crinkles around his eyes and the permanent vertical “perfectionist” lines between his brows. If viewing him from the neck down, a person would guess twenty years younger.

She was lost in appreciating and applauding his strong youthful body when he returned and knelt beside the couch. She hadn’t moved. She was waiting to welcome him back into their blanketed cocoon of a love nest.

Pinched between his fingers was a ring that he held up at her eye level. “Fa…, uh, Susan. Marry me.”

She looked at the ring. Farnsworth wasn’t materialistic and wouldn’t have cared if it was a cigar wrapper, but she was a woman and it was sparkling in the firelight like it was a living thing, just inches in front of her eyes. She couldn’t avoid looking at it.

It was perfect. A five carat marquis cut solitaire on a simple white gold band. She didn’t know much about diamonds, but she’d read enough to know that diamonds that pick up all the colors and lights in the room and reflect them back like a prism… well, that’s as good as a diamond gets. It had robbed her of her identity as an intelligent independent woman and reduced her to a creature who was mesmerized by a shiny object.

Wielding a rock that size might take some getting used to, but she decided she was up to the challenge and wanted Sol to believe that, of all the rings in the world, it was the very one she would have chosen for herself.

Her hesitation was starting to make Sol anxious and self-conscious. “I hope it’s right. I thought it looked like you. The guy in the store said it’s simply elegant, simply unique and I said, ‘Yeah. That’s her. That’s definitely her.’”

As fantastic as the ring was, the compliment was even better.

Farnsworth’s eyes slid to his as she swallowed the golf ball size lump that had formed in her throat. She didn’t speak, but didn’t hesitate either. She just nodded and smiled as she sat up, took his hand and guided it toward her ring finger. Little did he know that he would have made her happy with a proposal and a cereal box prize.

“Move over,” he chuckled as she made room for him to nestle back into his place. “Let’s do it before we go back.”

He was too close to see the surprise on her face.

“Do what?”

“Get married.”

“What?”

“We could pack up tonight. Go to Las Vegas tomorrow and we’d be back before my deadline.”

“Solomon. I may be middle aged, but I still have a mother who would never forgive me if she didn’t get to attend her only daughter’s wedding.”

“We could bring her along?”

She laughed and pushed his shoulder. “Stop.”

He kissed her softly and lowered his voice. “So you need a big to do.”

“No. Just a few people.” She planted a row of kisses on his collar bone. “I know for a fact that you have a few people who would be livid if you left them out.”

He blinked a few times. “Who?”

“You really don’t know there are people who care about you? B Team, for instance. Glen.”

“Pffffft.” She nuzzled her face into his neck. “Those fakers have got you believing that?” She smiled against his skin and subtly inhaled his scent at the same time. “Okay, but soon? I’m too old for long engagements.”

Raising up so she could see his face, she planted a kiss on his chin. “Soon.”

“Next month.”

“What’s the rush, Sol? Are you worried about something?”

“Baby. Things are going to get busier than ever before, maybe out of hand.”

Farnsworth had worked at Jefferson Unit long enough to know that “busy” was code for “dangerous”.

“Okay, next month. Maybe they’d let us use the chapel on base? It would be just the right size.”

“Sure. I can arrange that.” He squeezed her in his arms. “I can’t wait. You want to marry me as much as I want to marry you?”

She shook her head back and forth against his chest, but said, “I do.” She felt as much as heard the rumble of his soft laughter. They lay together in the companionable silence of true lovers for a while. “What are you thinking?”

“Um?”

“You’re stalling. What exactly was on your mind when I asked the question?”

“I was wondering how different our lives would have been if we’d found each other when we were young. If, maybe, we would have had children.”

Her flinch at the word “children” was slight, but she was pressed so close to him that there was no mistaking it. “What was that?”

“Nothing.”

“It was something. Tell me.”

“I…”

He rearranged their bodies so that she was tucked under him, so that he could see every emotion and reaction on her face. “There’s nothing you will ever tell me that will make me feel differently about you or love you less. One of the things I love about the fact that we both work for The Order is that there’s no reason for secrets between us.

“So much about our lives revolves around keeping secrets, it would be good to know that when we’re together, we’re in a truth zone.”

The fact that she knew what sort of man he was and knew that she could trust and believe him didn’t really make it any easier. “I had a baby. A girl. I was sixteen.”

Sol’s eyes softened in sympathy. He gently moved a strand of hair behind her ear and kissed her softly on the cheek, encouraging her to continue.

“My parents were trying to do the best thing for me. They were loving and supportive and took me to an agency that counsels girls in, uh, that situation.” She stopped for a minute. Sol waited patiently, but lifted his head so she would know he wanted to hear the rest. “The counselors laid out my options, but they made such a good case for adoption that I ended up feeling like the worse thing I could do for my baby was to keep it. They swore that my baby would have the best life possible, parents with good values and good resources who wanted a baby more than anything and would give mine the world.”

She paused again, while a lone silent tear slid out of the corner of her eye and downward toward her ear. “I thought I was doing the best thing. The right thing. When she was born I didn’t get to see her or hold her. I asked and they said she was a girl.”

Sol cleared his throat and swallowed. “And you regret the decision.”

“Every hour of every day. She’ll be twenty-eight soon.”

Looking at the wishful and wistful expression on her face, he had to ask, “Have you thought about looking for her?”

“Of course, but what would I say? I was so young that my brain wasn’t fully developed yet? I thought I was doing the right thing, but I wasn’t and by the time I understood that it was too late?”

“Yes,” Sol said with exquisite simplicity.

Farnsworth breathed in a big sigh that made her chest heave. “I guess it looks simple from your vantage point.”

“Yeah. I’m not you. I get that. I know mistakes can’t always be corrected, but sometimes some of the sting can be soothed.”

“You think I should look for her?”

“You curious?” She smiled and nodded as a couple of tears slid away from her eyes. “Well,” he said as he placed little kisses on both sides of her face, “it just so happens that I work for an outfit that can pretty much find out anything.”

She laughed. “Yeah. I might have heard of them, but you didn’t answer my question. Do you think I should look for her?”

“Yeah. I do.”

The next day they got up determined to make their last days of vacation so special that the memory would last a lifetime. If necessary.

Sol looked out at the Atlantic while he sipped his coffee. The surf was high. The wind wasn’t just noisy, but pushing against the piers and posts that the elevated house was built on. He was looking at the high surf and thinking that it had been hard to get any sleep with the house moving around. Still, he wasn’t complaining.

He knew he couldn’t fully enjoy the sensations of being cuddled next to Farnsworth’s warm body when he was asleep. So he took pleasure in holding her in his arms, feeling her breath on his chest, and listening to the phenomenon of a howling Atlantic wind.

A slight rustling alerted him that she was coming up behind him. He turned and gave her a big grin.

“Let’s go rent a dune buggy and then fly a kite.” He set down the coffee, grabbed her and twirled her around.

“Have you lost your mind?” He shook his head like a little boy, still grinning. “You can’t charm me into doing something insane. I’m too old for that.”

He grabbed his crotch and said, “I’ve got somethin’ right here that says that’s not true.”

She looked from his face to his crotch and back to his face. He wiggled his eyebrows, which was so cheesy it made her burst out laughing in spite of her determination to draw a boundary in defense of his outrageous behavior. Outrageous behavior that was both fun and unexpected.

“Come on. Get dressed. Let’s go get bacon and eggs and pancakes at that diner up the beach and then wake up the dune buggy guy.”

“Sol, it’s too cold out there. The dune buggy guy isn’t going to open up until June.”

He stepped back and looked serious. “Where is the Farnsworth who can perform miracles?” She blinked slowly and opened her mouth. “Okay. Just pretend with me. I’m one of the knights. I’m standing in front of your counter telling you that I have one day off and it’s my fondest desire to get a dune buggy rental on Cape May. Today. What are you going to do?”

She continued to stare for a couple of beats, but then smiled sheepishly. Her pride in her work trumped her bluff and bluster. “I guess I’d find a way to make it happen.”

He laughed. “And that’s my girl.”

Two and a half hours later they were bundled against the cold, full of diner pancakes, and flying down the sand in a glittered magenta fiberglass dune buggy. Sol whooped and hollered every time they hit a bump that temporarily lifted them out of their seats. It wasn’t her favorite recreational activity, but he was having such a good time that she wouldn’t put a stop to it even if she turned into a popsicle.

She turned to look at him just as he let out a huge whoop. Then the horizon was turning the wrong direction and the ground was coming toward her like it was falling down on top of her. When she landed on the wet hard pack sand, her breath was knocked out of her and every last nerve ending was frozen in shock from the impact. Lying there, she had no way of predicting whether that paralysis was temporary, permanent, or some sort of prelude to dying.

After an agonizing minute that felt like hours, she was able to rake in a breath. It took longer to mentally check over her body for injuries. She felt stunned, but not seriously injured. At least not in terms of bleeding or breakage.

She’d landed on her front side with her head turned toward the water. From that position all she could see was the ocean and sky. The wind was cold, punishing, and relentless. When she was able to lift her head and turn it the other direction, she saw that the dune buggy was turned over. She tried to call for Sol, but with the wind so high she wasn’t sure she’d actually made a sound. All she’d managed to do was get a mouthful of sand.

With nothing to help her but will and determination, she managed to get to her hands and knees. She started crawling toward the wreck while spitting sand out of her mouth. If it was June the beach would be populated with people walking dogs, jogging, building sand castles with their children. But the beach at Cape May in March seemed as deserted as the Siberian tundra. There was no one to help.

She couldn’t see Sol so she assumed he was on the other side of the dune buggy. When she got close enough to touch it, she got a grip on the undercarriage frame and used it to pull herself to an upright position. Her body protested loudly, letting her know that she needed to prepare to be one solid bruise for a while.

She tested her ability to walk with a small step, still holding onto the buggy’s frame. It wasn’t pleasant, but it was possible. She continued gingerly inching her way around to the other side.

“Sol,” she tried calling again. “You’re scaring me.”

She thought she heard him answer, but couldn’t be sure. So she kept going that direction.

There was nothing that could have prepared her for the trauma of what she saw when she came around the front and could see the other side. Sol lay on his back, his leg pinned underneath the buggy where a monstrous pool of blood had formed. His face was white as snow.

The sight swept her off her feet as surely as if she’d been physically knocked down. She fell to her knees and crawled the rest of the way. She heard a strange hiccupping sound through the wind. When her muddled mind put together that the sound matched the jerking of her chest, she realized it was coming from her, that and sheets of tears blown dry by the wind almost as soon as they fell.

When she reached him, she saw his eyes cut to her face. He opened his mouth and tried to say something, but nothing was coming out.

“I’ve got to get help. Got to get help.” She started jerking her outerwear off and covering him up with it. The whole time she was chanting, “Got to get help,” in between sobs. She couldn’t leave him and couldn’t help him without leaving him. Finally, the cloud in her mind cleared away enough for an image of a phone to form. “Phone,” she said out loud.

She started looking around and spied the red crocheted bag she’d brought along on their outing. It must have fallen out of the vehicle when it started to roll because it was lying on the sand about thirty feet away. She pulled herself up and tried to make her body run for it. She fell twice on the way, the second time she was close enough to scramble on hands and knees.

The phone was in the bag and perfectly fine. She called 911.

“911. What is your emergency?”

“My… my fiancé is caught underneath a dune buggy. I think his leg is… is…”

“Where are you?”

“On the beach. We’re… I don’t know.”

Someone in one of the nearby houses had finally looked out and seen what was happening. He’d come running as fast as seventy-year-old bones could bring him and arrived just as she was telling the 911 operator that she didn’t know where they were. She couldn’t hear the man come up behind her in the wind, but she was in too much shock to be startled when he took the phone out of her hand and began speaking.

“Near Spirit of Cape May. Beach patrol knows where that is.”

She didn’t know how long it was before the ambulance arrived, but he was dead before they got there. She overheard one of the paramedics say to the other that, if she had applied a tourniquet that, it wouldn’t have saved his leg, but it might have saved his life.

The resident who had come to her aid asked if he could take her somewhere. It was easy for him, with no medical training whatever, to recognize shock by the glazed and distant expression on her face.

“Look here,” he said to the paramedics. “The young woman is in shock and needs to go to the hospital herself.”

“Yes sir. Another unit is on the way.”

“All right,” he said. “How long will that be?”

“Hard to say.” They handed him a blanket from the ambulance. “Keep her warm until they get here.”

The ambulance drove away. When no one had come an hour later, the good Samaritan said, “I’m going to get my car and drive it as close as I can. Stay here until I get back. I’m going to take you to the hospital myself.”

On the way to the emergency room, he tried to get her to name someone he could call to come and help her. When she didn’t speak, he resorted to calling contacts on her phone.

Sol had fought to keep his eyes open as long as he could. When they finally closed of their own accord and refused to reopen, he’d been freezing cold, lying on wet sand, with the worst imaginable sounds ringing in his ears, the combination of howling wind and Farnsworth weeping. He’d been angry about the entire turn of events and ready to take names.

When he opened his eyes again he saw sunlight filtered through gently rustling leaves in a tree overhead. Looking around he saw that he was lying on grass so green it looked fake. He heard tinkling wind chimes and people nearby laughing like they were playing. Playing like children. The sound of a flute might have been coming from a distance, but he hoped he was imagining that part. The flute was just enough maudlin overkill to make him want to beg to be put out of his misery.

He checked himself for pain, but no. There wasn’t any. Matter of fact all physical sensations were pleasant. Maybe even nice. Or they would be if the flute would find something else to do.

He thought about sitting up and found himself jacking to a sitting position quickly and smoothly without feeling any muscle strain at all, which was a little weird because, on his best day, a sit up could still be felt.

From a sitting position he could see idyllic pastoral scenes in every direction. Flora and fauna abiding in a state of otherworldly perfection, Spring-time harmony on steroids. Grassy hills, flowered paths, trees with silver-dollar-shaped leaves danced in the little breeze and birds sang in a way that would probably be pleasing to most people.

Sol had already been losing his battle with flute irritation. The birds just ratcheted his annoyance up several notches. He was trying to remember how one gets birds to shut it or move on, when his attention was pulled toward the sheep. They were fat and fluffy, snowy white, with pretty black faces and shiny dainty hooves. And one of them was staring straight at him instead of being down with the phony-looking grass like his brethren. Sol tried staring the sheep down and eventually concluded that the animal was too stupid to realize that Sol had just alpha’d the crap out of him.

“Hey. Eyes to the grass!” Rather than having the desired effect, Sol’s instruction to the curious sheep seemed to make him more interesting to the creature. That, added to the irritation of the birds and flute was just too much.

“WHAT IS YOUR FUCKING PROBLEM? YOU ARE A HAIR’S BREADTH AWAY FROM BECOMING A LAMB PIE!”

In response the sheep bleated, but Sol knew all the way to the bottom of his core that it was intended as a raspberry.

He was in the process of standing with plans to throttle the errant ovine, when he noticed that he was wearing a toga. A white toga. Complete with one shoulder and a skirt that ended above the knee. No shoes, and a quick check confirmed that there was nothing underneath the toga either. Nothing supporting or protecting or covering the package, that is.

The bad news was that he was shoeless and naked except for a short ass toga. The good news was that some of his anger dissipated when he realized that the sheep actually had a legitimate reason to be looking at him funny.

When Sol got to his feet, the sheep bleated again.

“Yeah. That’s what I think, too,” he grumbled.

Looking in the direction of voices, it seemed the most logical possibility for determining where he was, how he got there, and, more importantly, how to recover his clothes and get the hel out.

CHAPTER 3

Jefferson Unit, Fort Dixon, New Jersey, Loti Dimension

“Hello?”

“Hey.”

The caller didn’t need to identify himself by name. Litha knew his voice very, very well. Well enough to hear every layer of weariness and to note the absence of his usual exuberance.

“Hi, Glen. How are you? Haven’t heard from you for a while.”

“Yeah.”

Litha was nothing if not patient. She could wait him out no matter how long it took, but as the silence stretched, she felt a maternal need to rescue him from awkward conversation. “We’ve missed you.”

He cleared his throat. “Am I still invited to Thursday night dinners?”

She smiled at the phone. “I think you know the answer to that. Standing invitation for Thursday or anytime at all. Shall we expect you tomorrow?”

“I’d, um, like that.”

“Sure. I’ll come get you. You know Rosie’s not here though. Right?”

There was another pause. “Not there as in…what do you mean?”

“Not here as in gone, Glen.”

“Gone where?”

“We don’t know. Precisely.”

There was a pause. “For how long?”

“We don’t know that either. Actually I was hoping you might shed some light on the situation. I know it’s prying and might only be considered my business indirectly, but do you think her sudden need for time away has something to do with you?”

After another pause, he sighed. “Maybe.” He said it quietly with a hint of something that might have been embarrassment.

“Well? Talking or leg breaking? Which will it be?”

“You don’t scare me, Mrs. I know you’re more powder puff than demon.”

“Yes, well, I admit to being fond of you, but understand this. I’m obligated to like Rosie more. Capiche?”

He chuckled softly. “As you should. Given the threats, I’m going to need some guarantees of my safety before I risk dinner. Not to mention the passes.”

“No worries. I’ll be bringing the handcuffs.”

“Funny.”

“You know I’m not joking. No handcuffs, no passes. That’s the rule. You have a reprieve until tomorrow night. Then you have to face the parents and blab.”

Again, he didn’t answer right away. “What are we having?”

She laughed. Any doubt that the caller might have been masquerading as Glen dissolved with that question.

“Nine o’clock. Your time.”

“Okay. I’ll be the cute one in the hallway outside Sol’s conference room. I mean outside the Sovereign’s conference room.”

“The cute one?”

“Okay. I’ll be the only one there.”

She chuckled at him and disconnected.

Glen sat on the edge of his bed and continued to stare at the phone wondering why he’d thought there was something, anything, in the world that could override the ache in his heart from being separated from Rosie. When she’d issued an ultimatum, “Call by Thursday night or else,” he’d reasoned that starting a long-term relationship with caving to demands would set a dangerous precedent and an expectation of servitude. Nothing about that sounded appealing to a werewolf. Even a quarter werewolf.

So he had deliberately let the deadline slide thinking her burn would cool and they would work it out. He was practically watching for the clock to roll over midnight, just past ultimatum, so he could call. She had said supper Thursday. He did the math. The Storms usually had dinner at seven Pacific time. There was a three hour time difference between New Jersey and Napa Valley. That meant ten his time. So he decided to wait a couple of hours past to prove his point, save his pride and their future.

At exactly midnight he tapped her contact number. She didn’t answer so he left a message and followed that with a CALL ME text. No reply.

It was the first time he’d gone for ten days straight without seeing Rosie since she’d been born and he was feeling the loss in painful ways. He couldn’t begin to estimate the number of messages he’d left. A hundred maybe.

He didn’t think there was anything funny about being forced to call her parents for information, but he was getting borderline desperate. He needed to get in touch with her and sort it out.

Storm was in and out of Jefferson Unit frequently, helping out with keeping things in order until the new Sovereign took over. Although no one knew when that would be because there was no one on the horizon.

If people with the profile and qualities of potential Black Swan knights were rare, the profile and qualities of a Sovereign were practically non-existent. It had to be someone who had once served as an active duty knight, who could tolerate administrative work, with the common sense of a problem solver, the judgment of a sage, and the charisma of a leader.

Good luck finding all that in one package.

Storm made a point of taking Farnsworth into the club lounge for coffee in front of the fire or having lunch with her twice a week. Nobody had ever specifically taught him that friends look out for the widows of friends, but he felt like that was the right thing to do. Although Sol and Farnsworth hadn’t been married when he died, Sol had told Storm that he was surrendering his bachelorhood in the very near future.

Farnsworth was touched by Storm’s attentions and came to lean on him for emotional support, which he offered freely. When the initial haze of grief began to lift from her heart, she occasionally had thoughts about something other than the hole left in her life.

“Sir Storm.” She set her cup into its saucer and looked over at Storm who sat cattycornered in a plush chair. “The night before Sol died, we talked about something from my past. I had a teenage pregnancy and gave the baby up for adoption on the advice of counselors.”

Storm looked solemn, his dark eyes reflecting a little of her sadness. On several occasions Farnsworth had thought that she’d never known a better listener. He nodded for her to continue.

“Sol thought I should try to find her and I feel…” She paused to take a couple of deep breaths and look away. When she felt like her composure was restored, she said, “I feel like I need to do that for me and also for him.”

“You want Black Swan to locate her? Gather some information?”

Farnsworth nodded. “Her birthday is April 22nd. She’ll be twenty-eight. The adoption took place in Fall River.”

“Is that in…?”

“Massachusetts.”

“I’ll get the ball rolling. The report will come into the Sovereign’s office. Do you mind if Glen sees it? I might not be there whenever…”

“No. I don’t mind. The course is locked in. Really has been since I made the decision to tell the story to someone. To Sol,” she added.

“Is there something else?” Storm’s question was prompted by instinct. He couldn’t have explained it, just the feeling that something had been bothering her since Sol’s death. Something beyond mourning.

She blinked like she was surprised and looked around like she was afraid someone had heard her thoughts. She looked at Storm and swallowed.

“Whatever it is, you can tell me. You know I’ll never break your confidence.”

She stared at Storm for a minute and then smiled. “A confessional.”

“You need to confess something?”

“You’ll hate me after you hear it.”

“I seriously doubt that.”

The expression on her face changed from uncertain to determined. And hardened.

“I killed him.”

Of all the things she might have said Storm wouldn’t have guessed that in a thousand years. His jaw dropped and he gaped openly while his brain tried to piece together how she might have come to such a conclusion.

“Were you driving?”

“No.”

“Then what makes…?”

“I heard the paramedics who put him in the ambulance that took him away. They said that if I had done a tourniquet, that it wouldn’t have saved his leg, but it would have saved his life.”

Storm’s face transformed into an expression of the most abject sympathy. He couldn’t imagine how hard it must have been for her to believe that she’d not only lost the love of her life, but that she was also responsible for his death.

“Susan. Have you ever been instructed on how to apply a tourniquet field dressing?”

Her brow furrowed and she searched his eyes. “No?”

“It was a thoughtless thing for those idiot medics to say and an easy thing for them to say. Tourniquets are second nature to them. They know how to do it. They know it so well they don’t remember when they didn’t know how to do it. Plus, they weren’t in shock. You almost certainly were. Weren’t you thrown from the vehicle when it turned over?”

She looked down at the floor. “Yes.”

“Did you lose consciousness?”

“I think so. I don’t know for how long.”

Storm cursed under his breath. “Please excuse me. I’ve got to go get some morons fired and the Cape May Emergency Services Department is going to give you an apology or there’ll be the devil to pay.” Realizing what he’d just said, he hoped she didn’t know about his mixed heritage.

“No, Storm, I don’t want this made public.”

“What they said…it’s not right. Passing judgment like that, on an injured, traumatized person?” Storm’s gaze jerked up to hers. “Did they send just one ambulance?”

“Yes.”

“Where did they have you ride on the way to the hospital?”

“They didn’t.”

“What do you mean they didn’t?”

“They left me on the beach.”

Storm stood up so fast she flinched. He looked furious, but what he was feeling was even darker and more intense than that. “You can’t ask me to do nothing. That goes so far beyond incompetence.”

Looking around to see who was watching, she took his hand. “Sit down. Please.”

He sat, but wasn’t having much luck controlling the battle urges. “How did you get to the hospital?”

She studied him for a few seconds trying to decide whether or not to answer, because she knew that anything more would just be throwing kerosene on the fire. Finally, she decided that Storm might have a point. She didn’t know how to apply a tourniquet and she bet that those paramedics didn’t know how to do many things that were so routine to her that they were second nature.

“The paramedics said that there would be another ambulance coming. The man who helped me, he lived in one of the houses on the beach, waited with me, but the ambulance never came. Finally, he got his car and drove it as close to where I was as he could. He took me to the hospital, took my phone and started calling contacts. When he called the Operations office, one of the trainees answered and got Glen. At least that’s what I heard.”

“Gods Almighty. It’s a marvel you aren’t a suicide. It’s the cluster fuck that just keeps on giving.”

“What?” Farnsworth’s eyes darted to Storm. He’d never used language like that in front of her before.

Storm leaned to the side so he could pull his phone from his pocket and touched Monq’s name. “Code P. Someone has a story for you. We’ll be down in five minutes.” Storm ended the call and looked at Farnsworth. “Now listen to me.

“It hurts my heart that you’ve been carrying the burden of somebody else’s mistake. I’m glad you told me, but I’m sorry you waited this long. You’re not responsible for what happened to Sol in any way. It was an accident.

“You may not believe me, but I’m just a retired knight. We’re going to go downstairs and tell your story to somebody who can actually help you sort this out.”

“Who?”

“Monq.”

“I don’t know, Storm.”

“He can be a character. I admit it. But he’s good at what he does. Let him help you through this.

“You survived. I’m very glad you did and Monq is going to set you on the path of healing so you can live the rest of your life the way Sol would have wanted you to.”

Storm saw the shift that took place in her demeanor when he mentioned what Sol would have wanted. She took in a breath. “Okay.”

“One last thing. Please. I’m begging you, for Sol’s sake and mine, too. Give me permission to get justice from the assholes who wrongly blamed and then abandoned you.”

“Okay.”

CHAPTER 4

Overseer Dimension.

“He’s one of those.”

Huber had rushed into the Council room to let them know they had a troublemaker whose status had been escalated to need-to-deal-with.

Heralda looked up. “Whose child is he?”

“Oh, you know, could be anybody’s.”

“If he’s causing that much trouble, he couldn’t be anybody’s. He couldn’t be Theasophie’s, for example. Or Etana’s.”

Huber pursed his lips intending to look thoughtful, but it ended up looking more like Baby Huey pouting.

“Stop that,” Heralda said.

“Stop what?”

“That ugly thing with your lips.”

Huber looked offended. “Humph.” He crossed his arms over his soft tummy and glared.

“Huber, try and stay focused. What are his traits?”

“He’s sure he knows everything and should be in charge. His spirit was sent to Summerland on Saturnia because the stories his grandmother had told him were the closest thing he had to religion and an idea of hereafter.

“His behavior has been disruptive to the point of being disturbing. We even tried an immersion treatment in the River of Rebirth.”

“Yeah?”

“What happened?”

“Nothing. He’s one-of-a-kind stubborn.”

Heralda looked at Culain. “Thinks he knows everything and should be in charge?”

“Got to be Ragnal’s,” said Culain without even looking up from what he was doing.

“No doubt,” added Ming.

Heralda turned to Huber. “So go get Ragnal and tell him to fix the problem.”

Huber stomped his biker boot clad foot and his belly jiggled noticeably. “Don’t order me around like I’m an Elemental. I’m a peer!”

“Of course you are. I would go myself, but I’m really in the middle of something. Would you mind? Please?” Heralda used her most persuasive tone. “I’ll look at your dragon babies later.”

“You will? All right. I’ll go this time.”

“Thank you.”

Huber waited outside Ragnal’s harem, if not patiently. He paced, fumed, and muttered something about Viagra. He stopped in front of one of the massive androgynous Elementals guarding the door.

“How much longer?”

The guard’s face never changed expression. He slid a dispassionate almond-shaped gaze Huber’s way but said nothing.

“Fine!” Huber said. “Just give him this message.”

Huber turned his back to the door and wrote a cursive message in the air with his index finger. “Urgent Council biz. GG wants to see U. Tired of waiting. Call me. – HQ”

The black letters hung in the air at eye level. Huber looked them over and decided that cobalt blue would be better. He waved his hand and stepped back to better see the result. Satisfied with the new look of his airborne graphic, he made a face at the guards and vanished.

Huber had made sure that Ragnal couldn’t help but see the message when he emerged from his fuck fest. But Ragnal chose to interpret the word “urgent” as “when you get around to it”. After all, according to his personal version of hierarchy, he saw the other Council members as working for him.

The others had let him get away with the self-delusion for centuries, but he was on the verge of pushing it one too many times.

“He what?” Heralda asked.

“His guards wouldn’t let me in. I left a message, but he hasn’t returned my call,” Huber said.

“Did he know it was Council business?”

Huber nodded. “Used the word urgent and told him you said.”

The room rumbled underneath their feet. Uh oh.

Heralda was more than a little upset that Ragnal had ignored Huber’s message, which was virtually the same thing as a summons. She stormed out of the Council room and materialized in Ragnal’s private foyer, but unlike Huber, she didn’t bother with polite protocol which entailed asking the guards for entrance. As far as she was concerned, Ragnal had used up his chances to play by guidelines and be social. Good manners don’t hold integrity for long without being a two way exchange.

She bypassed the guards and went straight to where Ragnal was enjoying felatio as performed by a creature of indeterminate genetics. When Heralda grabbed the giver of head and pulled her away, the sudden loss of suction – which had apparently been sincere – resulted in a wet pop and the lolling of a Council member’s rapidly deflating penis.

Ragnal stood, making a noise that resembled a howl, raised his hand to Heralda, but thought better of it just before he struck. His brain reengaged in time to remember that she had a reputation for holding a grudge and fighting dirty. He lowered his hand.

“What do you want, Heralda?”

She deliberately looked down at his flaccid godhood. “Let’s start small. Cover that up and we’ll talk about bigger issues.”

He sneered as he pulled a robe over his head. “Better?”

“Will you join me at Council willingly, Ragnal?” He hesitated one beat too long for her patience. “Or…”

“Oh all right.”

Within the blink of an eye they were in the Council room and he was being apprised of the situation.

“What makes you think he’s one of mine?”

Huber snorted.

Ragnal looked at him like he’d farted instead of snorted.

Heralda more or less strutted to her rococo chair and made a show of sitting down. “Comparing his qualities to yours, there can be little doubt.”

Ragnal’s eyes roved over the Council members present before fastening on Heralda. “And what is it you want me to do about it?”

“Your child. Your problem. Figure it out.”

He glared at her for a bit before saying, “Where is he from?”

She looked at Huber, who answered, “An inconsequential little cell of a layer on the fringe of the ellipse.”

Ragnal let out a long sigh managing to communicate without words that he was perturbed, put out, and prickly.

“And where is he now?”

“Saturnia,” Huber answered again.

“Show me.”

CHAPTER 5

Shamayim

It seemed to Sol that he’d spent an eternity in Hel. The caretakers on Saturnia had tried everything imaginable to calm the soul who insisted his identity remained that of Solomon Nememiah, even though he’d left his physical body behind. Since he hadn’t forgotten the details of his former life, he was not adapting well to his spirit’s vacation between incarnations.

He was supposed to be basking in the sensory perfection of Saturnia’s Summerland and rejoicing in the initial stages of Phase One, but what he was doing instead was trying to incite other sojourners to riot. He’d demanded to be told what the caretakers were talking about when they repeatedly referred to Phase One. When they refused to answer, his response could only be described as a fit – a display the caretakers were not accustomed to seeing in a passively pleasant dimension like Saturnia.

The caretakers’ reply was always the same. Sol’s response to that was always the same. They would stare at him as he demanded to see the person in charge and blink slowly when he threatened them with a sound throttling.

During brief periods when he would take a regrouping break from his full on assault of the status quo, he would return to the grassy knoll where he first awoke to find himself trapped in a nightmare that, to him, made Dante look like Disney. He was perpetually pissed off by the oversupply of pristine and pastoral. How he longed to hear someone, other than himself, object to something! Anything!

He swore that, if he ever escaped the madhouse, he would never complain about complainers again.

The grassy knoll, which he had come to think of as his personal space, was replete with aggravating birdsong, but at least he didn’t have to look at the serene beatific and creepily robotic expressions of humanoids whom, he concluded, must have been lobotomized.

The biggest drawback to his retreat was not birds that never slept, but a sheep that hadn’t anything better to do than stare. Sol began to wonder if it was a robot spy, equipped with camera and sound, observing and recording everything he did. The thought sounded paranoid even to him, but that thought was always followed by the admonition that all conspiracies are not imaginary.

Sol was sitting on his knoll studying the sheep, envisioning ways to dismember it, wondering how the legs would look Frenched and how it would taste with mint sauce. That led him to the realization that he hadn’t either eaten or been hungry since arriving. Nor had he consumed liquids of any sort. Because he was lost in that thought and because he didn’t anticipate company, he was startled by a nearby voice.

“Solomon Nememiah?”

He jerked his head in the direction of the inquirer, a man with tan skin, tan pants and a black Ravi Shankar tee shirt with long sleeves and three long slits across the torso that were evenly spaced like claw marks. He was medium height with strong facial bone structure, brown eyes and hair cut so close to the scalp it was impossible to tell its actual color. But by far the most striking thing about him was the no-nonsense expression he wore. The guy wore a presence that screamed, “I am not a pussy.”

“Yeah?”

“I hear you’ve been requesting to speak with someone in a position of authority.”

“And would you be that guy?”

Ragnal’s face wore a ghost of a smile, but it didn’t change the hard look one bit. “What do you think?”

Sol met the confrontational gaze eye to eye, but knew without asking that the fellow was altogether a different sort than he’d encountered since arriving in that godsforsaken place. He got to his feet so that the newcomer wouldn’t be looking down on him. Literally.

“It seems you have me at a disadvantage.”

The ghost of a smile grew slightly bigger. “How’s that?”

“You’re dressed. I’m not.”

Ragnal’s eyes drifted down to Sol’s bare legs and feet. Then he put back his head and laughed. “Yes. You’re one of mine all right.” Sol had no idea how to respond to that, but his eyes narrowed. Ragnal’s laughter ended in a sigh, a smile, and a shake of the head. “What would you like to wear? Never mind. Just think about your preference.”

Before Sol could ponder the bizarre instruction, he had, in fact, formed an image in his mind of what he would like to be wearing – his favorite old jeans that had been washed so many times they were buttery soft, the ones with a hole in the knee for character, a plain white tee shirt, and coffee-brown Ropers. He knew the instant his clothes had changed because he no longer felt grass between his toes, no longer felt a breeze ruffling his, um, skirt, and he did feel the familiar comfort and security of having his package supported. Even though he knew what he’d find, he looked down for confirmation.

Yes. Those were his favorite weekend jeans and his broken-in boots. He passed a large hand over his chest and abdomen reveling in the feel of the tee that covered his upper body. To his mind there was nothing better than the freshness and classlessness of a plain white, soft fresh cotton tee.

He didn’t understand how physics worked in hel, if that’s where he was, but he did understand saying thank you to someone when they did you a good turn. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” The guy nodded once. “I assume you have something to say? Would you like to stand, sit, walk?” Ragnal cocked his head, tilted his chin up as he looked at Sol and said, “Never mind. I know the answer.”

In less than a blink of an eye, Sol found himself sitting on a leather barstool in front of a well-aged oak bar, being handed his favorite long neck by a kindly-looking bartender who winked when he set it down. Sol swiveled around to take a read on his environment. Old vampire hunter habits never seem to fade away. There were only three people in the bar. Himself, the bartender, and a yet-to-be-named companion.

“I’m Ragnal.”

“Just Ragnal?”

“Yes.”

“It seems you already know my name.”

Ragnal gave a slight nod. “What I don’t know is why you’ve been causing such a ruckus.”

“I need to get out of here.”

“I see. And where do you want to go?”

“Back.”

“Back?”

“Yes. You know. Back to where I was before I was here.”

“Oh.” Ragnal paused before adding, “I see.”

The bartender walked to the end of the bar and disappeared around the corner as he slung a damp towel over his shoulder. Sol thought that was a nice realistic touch. The guy must have gone to the Elia Kazan school of acting.

Ragnal grasped the long neck that sat in front of him. It was covered with the telltale condensation caused when glass-bottled beer is chilled in ice. “So this is your favorite, huh?” He took a sip and pursed his lips. “Hmmm. Not bad.”

Sol looked at his own beer. He liked the way it looked sitting in front of him, but he just didn’t have a desire to reach for it. “So. About going back?”

“Ah, yes. About that.” Ragnal looked into Sol’s face. “Just out of curiosity, can you tell me what you were doing at the moment of your death?”

That question shouldn’t have come as a shock to Sol. He’d put it together shortly after arrival… that he must have died. But still, having someone just say it out loud like that made him feel funny. Inconsequential somehow. He heaved a big sigh even though he’d also discovered shortly after arriving that inhaling and exhaling were purely optional.

“So I really am, uh, dead.”

“Let’s not play games, Solomon. You know you’ve moved on to another phase in the process.”

“Sol.”

“What?”

“If you’re going to call me by my first name, call me Sol.”

“All right. Sol. What were you thinking at the very last?”

Sol looked down at the bar, looked at the beer, then looked at his hands. “I was thinking that I couldn’t check out because too much depended on me. I was thinking that, if it turned out there was an after-existence that was supposed to make me happy, I would have to convince somebody that the only thing that would make me happy is being returned to duty where I belong.”

When he turned back, Ragnal searched his eyes like he was looking for something in particular. “And what sort of ‘duty’ is it that’s so important?”

Sol drew up short, realizing for the first time that he would have to discuss Black Swan business with an outsider. That presented a dilemma. He couldn’t get out of there without breaking his vow of secrecy.

“This is a pickle. I took a vow of secrecy.”

“So you need me to pledge confidence?” Sol nodded. “Very well. You have my word that I will not divulge what you tell me without first gaining your permission to do so.”

It wasn’t perfect, but Sol decided he had no choice but to accept it and be satisfied.

“We were in the middle of a vampire crisis. We thought we’d found a cure, but it didn’t work out and, if anything, we made it worse. I was instrumental in the correction. A world of people, some who know about the impending danger and some who don’t, were depending on me. So I have to get back.”

Ragnal’s expression gave away nothing except that Sol thought there might have been a flicker of recognition when he’d said the word vampire. But by the time he’d finished speaking, Sol could see that Ragnal looked confused.

“I’m not understanding. There’s a problem relating to vampire?”

Sol’s shoulder sagged. “Yes. There’s a problem relating to vampire and you just made me the king of understatement.” Ragnal scowled. “So you know about vampire?”

“I know a little about them. I didn’t know they were posing a problem.”

Thinking about Animal House, Sol realized that Ragnal might be aware of the variety of vampire that are relatively harmless, the kind that, like mosquitoes, just take their blood and go without causing more than a minor irritation.

“Vampire have been a plague on our world for at least thirty generations and perhaps forever. A bacterial virus turns humans into monsters who are serial killers of women and contagion to men, infecting them with the disease.

“We learned recently that there is something particular to the environment in our world that caused an adverse, viral, reaction.”

Sol stopped to make sure that Ragnal was following.

“Go on.”

“I work for a very, very old organization that was founded for the purpose of keeping humans safe. If it wasn’t for the effort we’ve made to contain the epidemic, it would have grown exponentially and rendered humans extinct a long time ago.”

Ragnal stared at Sol as he took another drink of beer. “And why do you believe you are indispensable to this… cause?”

“You think it’s ego. It’s not ego. It’s like there’s a tsunami on the way. We need all hands on deck. It’s not so much that I’m indispensable as it is that I’m useful. I’ve been doing this work most of my life and I’m responsible… was responsible… for a contingent of people who are most qualified to combat what’s coming.

“Sure. Somebody could eventually take my place, but I’m ready to hit the ground running now. And that’s what they’re going to need to survive.”

After a second Ragnal gave Sol a smile that looked a little like a smirk. “You think you should be in charge. I get it.” Ragnal stood up. “Let me see what I can work out.” He looked around the bar. “Where would you like to wait for your answer?”

“You got a library?”

“That can be arranged.”

Sol found himself standing in front of a Greco-Roman building at the bottom of steps, flanked by two huge lion statues, leading upward to a bank of doors that appeared to be glass framed in gold. The building was the only structure in a countryside that was unaltered by road or building.

As he began to climb the steps, he told himself that he would be grateful for small favors if he opened the doors to find no birds, wind chimes, flute music, or sheep inside.

Ragnal found Heralda cooing at some sort of cat-sized reptiles in a large terrarium. She looked up as he was approaching.

“All taken care of?”

“No. Turns out it’s not my problem,” Ragnal said. “It’s your mess and you’re the one who needs to clean it up.”

“What are you talking about?”

“One word. Vampire.”

“Cut the cryptic games and say what you mean to say before I lose patience with you twice in one day.”

“Your vampire’s saliva interacted badly with the unique organic composition of the subject’s little world. Turned homo sapiens into cannibals intent on wiping out their own species.”

Heralda paled visibly as she thought about the possibility of giving Pierce cause to extend their Earth sentence. Extensions can be a real bitch when time is infinite. The vampire project was supposed to be for extra credit. How ironic was that!

“You’re sure?”

“That’s what he says. Why would he lie?”

Heralda turned to the elementals standing by the inner doors. “Get me Kellareal!”

CHAPTER 6

Overseer Dimension

Heralda was a vision sitting in her white and gold room with her hip-length black hair moving in slow motion around her body. It was lifted by an invisible force so that it appeared to be floating. She was wearing a blood-red dress that matched her blood-red mouth and was tapping her blood-red fingernails on the massive arm of her rococo chair. That’s how Kellareal found her, lost in thought, when he entered the room.

She looked up. “Why am I just now hearing about this?” Her tone was accusatory, but Kellareal wasn’t easily made to feel defensive.

“The vampire in Loti Dimension?”

“YES! THE VAMPIRE IN LOTI DIMENSION!”

His throat moved as he tried to swallow his frustration and not yell his response at equal volume. “I’ve attempted to bring the situation to your attention many times. Perhaps you were distracted?”

She glared at Kellareal for an uncomfortable minute as if it was his fault that she hadn’t been paying attention. “All right. Whatever. I’m listening now.”

Kellareal explained the history, confirming that the vampire virus had first appeared around two thousand years ago and, as Solomon Nememiah had said, would have rendered the human population of Loti extinct if the secret society of vampire hunters had not intervened.

Heralda rose from her chair and began pacing. “Who sponsors this Black Swan thing?”

“They’ve been operating independently.”

She raised her eyebrows. “No sponsor?”

He shook his head and angel dust fell freely around him like platinum glitter. “None.”

Heralda pursed her beautiful lips while she continued to pace.

Huber entered uninvited, didn’t bother to cast Kellareal a glance, and plopped down on Heralda’s very grand, temporarily vacated chair. “If you don’t stop doing that thing with your mouth, you’ll end up with smoking wrinkles.”

“Hmmm?” She hadn’t been paying attention. “Huber, I don’t have time for your silliness right now.”

He slunk off to his play corner, sat down at his table, and began making motor lips noises.

“Not having a sponsor might make it easier to correct this situation. No objection. No interference. No blowback.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Kellareal agreed.

She looked at Kellareal. Really looked at him for, perhaps, the first time in centuries. “I’ll probably need your help.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Huber. Stop that and come here!”

Huber looked up from what he was doing, which appeared to be stirring the beginnings of a tropical storm in the Gulf of Mexico. He dropped his hand like he’d been caught doing something naughty and shuffled over to stand at the foot of Heralda’s dais.

“Go talk to this mortal mischief-maker. Find out if he’s the sort who could keep his mouth shut if we give him what he wants.”

Huber stood up ramrod straight, gave an exaggerated mock salute, and attempted to click his heels together. It looked a little ridiculous in his everyday costume of white toga and biker boots. The boots more thumped together than clicked.

Heralda rolled her eyes. “Hurry up.”

“Why is it again that you don’t ever run your own errands?” She turned a glare on him that included bared, clenched teeth. “Okay! I’m going!” he whined as the doors flew open to let him pass.

Sol had spent a long time in the library. At first he’d found it amusing to walk around shouting, “Hello,” and then listen to the echo. But as much as he thought of himself as the antithesis of a people person, the solitude grew tedious after a stretch of time and he was ready to break up the boredom, even if the only way to do that was to listen to birds pretend to be birds.

He was lying on his back on his grassy knoll watching the shimmer of aspen-like leaves in the trees above him, remembering the silky feel of Farnsworth’s hair and the way her eyes would get so bright when he kissed her the way a woman like her should be kissed – thoroughly. He wondered about how she’d felt when he’d left his body behind, if she’d taken it really hard. If she was doing all right. If she was still wearing his ring.

He didn’t hear anyone approach and jumped a little when someone nearby cleared his throat. Sol raised his head and looked in the direction of the sound.

There was a curious character standing about eight feet away wearing a goofy expression, a toga, biker boots, and a ridiculous laurel wreath on his head. Sol wouldn’t be mean enough to say the little guy was misshapen, but it did cross his mind that a few pushups and laps around the pasture could only do the figure good.

Sol remained in a semi-reclining position, but propped himself up on his elbows. “I was here first,” he deadpanned.

Huber giggled. “I know.”

“Well? What do you want?”

“I’ve been sent to ask a couple of questions.”

“Did you bring snacks?”

Huber giggled again. “You want snacks?”

“No. Just thought I’d ask.”

“Oh.”

“You want to sit down?”

“Okay.”

Sol watched, fascinated, while Huber crossed his legs meditation-style in midair before floating down and hovering just inches above the grass.

“Neat trick.”

Huber looked momentarily confused, as if he hadn’t thought about the fact that everyone couldn’t defy gravity at will. His brow cleared when he realized what Sol meant. “Oh, yes. I have others.”

“I’ll bet. How about raising the dead?”

Huber waved his hand and said, “Sometimes,” offhandedly. “And speaking of that…”

Huber stopped midsentence, seemingly preoccupied by other things.

“Speaking of that…” Sol prompted.

Huber’s unfocused eyes cleared and he brought his attention back to Sol as he reached up to straighten his laurel wreath, which hadn’t moved at all. “Let’s play a game of ‘What if?’”

“Okay. What if I don’t want to play?”

Huber pouted a little. “No fair. I get to ask the questions.”

Sol made a little twirling gesture with his hand to indicate, “Go ahead.”

“What if we sent you back?” That got Sol’s attention. He sat up. “You know we couldn’t send you back to your old body because it’s, you know, gone.”

“Gone?” Intellectually Sol knew that made sense, but emotionally it felt like the bottom dropped out of the elevator. “Oh. I… guess that’s right.”

“If we sent you back, we’d have to put you in a new body.” Sol’s mind was racing trying to figure out how to make that work. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. For now, all I want to know is if you think you could keep a highly unusual secret.”

“Look. I work for a highly unusual secret organization in top level management. I’m not bragging. That’s just how it is. Now. My turn. How am I supposed to get back inside in a different body without telling them who I am?”

Huber looked down and frowned. “That is a puzzle. Set that aside for the time being. Assume we could get around that part and get you inside this ‘highly secret organization’…”

“Are you mocking me?”

Huber looked sheepish. “Just a little. Are you sensitive? You don’t look sensitive.” Sol glared at him. “So? Can you keep a secret?”

“Yes.”

“Very well. Good boy.” Huber started to leave. “Um. As you were.” He vanished.

While Huber was gone, Heralda called the other available Council members together. She would have rather had lashes than admit to her six peers that there’d been an unfortunate and undesirable side effect to her prize creation, the vampire. But she knew it was useless to try and hide the mistake now that Ragnal knew about it. The only thing stopping him from broadcasting the news throughout the multiverse was that they were in the project together. If one made a mess, so far as Overseer Pierce was concerned, the mess belonged to the whole group.

The only logical play for her was to get out in front of the story and confess the error in a contrite show of character and humility.

So she called a meeting and did exactly that. The others seemed to take it well. Heralda interpreted that to mean that they had their own little missteps they’d just as soon keep under wraps.

“Send him back in a new body?” It was technically a question, but not one that Theasophie expected to be answered. “That’s risky business. If it gets out, it will create an explosion of religious fads. Every human will want a new young body when the old one ages out.”

“Like hitting a reset button,” Ming added.

The doors opened and Huber floated in.

“Well, Huber. What do you think? Does the human strike you as someone who could keep that sort of secret?”

“He’s a grouchy sort, but he’s all about the duty and the honor, blah blah blah blah blah blah.”

“If we agree to helping you out of this bind,” Ming said, “you’ll owe us.”

“Oh here we go.” Heralda suspected the negotiation was coming.

CHAPTER 7

Rio de Janeiro

Rev Farthing walked with as much stealth as possible on the old and unevenly worn brick alleyway in the old Colonial part of the city. His team had just split into pairs to try and head off a couple of vampire pulling at a young girl who, judging by her dress, was part of the Samba School Parade.

If being a vampire hunter wasn’t already a nightmare, try adding Carnival week to the mix. Anything within blocks of the Sambadrome was an all-you-can-eat vamp buffet and the crowds of dancers, tourists, and revelers were too thick to do anything about it. They unwittingly provided both bountiful feast and perfect cover for vampire for one week every year.

Every night when he went out on patrol he told himself the same story. That if he died that night, it wouldn’t be a tragedy because he’d lived a lot in his thirty-one years. He’d seen a lot more of what the world had to offer, good and bad, than most. He’d also given the past sixteen years to the service of humanity through an outfit called The Order of the Black Swan.

He’d spent his childhood in England, but his father had been appointed British ambassador to Portugal when he was ten. By the time he was recruited by Black Swan, he spoke perfect Portuguese, which was why he was sent back to Brazil after he was inducted into knighthood.

There was no one to grieve for him. His parents and older brother had been killed in a sailing accident off the Spanish coast near Barcelona and there was no other family that would recognize him as an adult without being told who he was. No wife. No steady girlfriend. Not many regrets. Like the Native Americans supposedly said, it was a good day to die. That was what he told himself every night when he went out to hunt.

He was moving as quickly as he could, keeping to one side of the alley. He wore dark clothes and was glued to the shadows on the wall while his partner mirrored his actions on the other side. He was so intent on reaching the girl in time, that he never saw the shadow in front of him take form until it had sunk its teeth into his trapezius. He yelled out from the shock or the pain or the anger at being overtaken.

In less than five seconds his partner had staked the vampire from behind. It slumped to the ground between them. The two knights stood and stared at each other in the dim light, a world of communication passing between them. It was a rookie mistake. He’d let his emotions, his desire to save that girl, override his training.

Rev had been partners with Jorge for seven years. The bond they shared couldn’t be described to anyone who’d never had the experience of being certain they were going to die. He’d shared that experience with Jorge many times.

They couldn’t say how long it would be before Rev was overtaken. The resurgent strain was converting humans much faster than the old virus. Minutes.

In the darkness he could see the shine of tears streaking down Jorge’s face. There wasn’t anything to say. They both knew the score. They both knew that, if Jorge had been given the choice, he’d trade places with his partner. For seven years they’d patrolled together. And for seven years each had silently reaffirmed that he would give his life for his partner. If it came to that.

Rev didn’t look panic-stricken. He didn’t even look upset. He simply smiled at his partner and Jorge would never forget what he said. “I love you, brother. Quit this madness. Find a girl. Live a long life. Give your babies a kiss from me. And remember there’s never a good day to die.” Then he held his arms out to his sides.

According to the explicit instructions they’d been given on how to proceed in such a circumstance, they both knew what had to be done. Jorge raised his stake, but the uncontrollable sobs were racking his body so hard he was afraid he would miss Rev’s heart. He knew he had to get control of his feelings long enough to dispatch his friend or cause unnecessary suffering. And there was already enough suffering. He loved Rev Farthing far too much to let his execution be anything besides quick.

So he sucked in two deep breaths, gritted his teeth, gave his head a vigorous shake, and screamed at the same time he summoned all his might toward driving the stake into his fellow knight’s heart. He did a good job. Rev didn’t linger. Jorge sank to his knees next to the body and called the cleanup location in to his Sovereign.

For a while he sat motionless next to his partner’s corpse, feeling a hundred years old and wishing he had died, too. Then he leaned down, planted a kiss on his Rev’s cooling forehead, left the cell phone lying on top of the body and walked away. Away from the alley. Away from his partner’s corpse. And away from Black Swan.

When cleanup arrived a few minutes later, all they found was one dead vampire and Jorge’s cell phone lying on the ground not far away.

The following morning, the Rio Unit Sovereign set down his coffee, opened his portaputer and TOP SECRET file on the transfer of Sir Farthing to Jefferson Unit in New Jersey. Everything seemed to be in order. He’d just never heard of an urgent middle-of-the-night transfer before. “Nice of them to tell me,” he grumbled before getting to work on revising the schedule rotations.

Shamayim

Kellareal found Sol in the library that had been created for his benefit, sitting at a table in the middle of an immense room with a four story ceiling and gallery views of the stacks on every floor. Sol was looking down at the book he was reading, but looked up when he caught movement in his peripheral vision. He watched the angel approach and stop in front of him on the other side of the table.

“Mind if I sit?”

Kellareal was wearing the white robe that was his customary uniform when he visited the planes of Phase One. Sol’s eyes drifted over him before making a conciliatory gesture toward a chair on the other side of the table. He closed the book he’d been reading. “Do I know you?”

“The answer is no, but only because of chance. We narrowly missed meeting. There was an incident involving one of your knights and I ended up being in and out of Jefferson Unit for a while. You were away on holiday.”

“What incident?” Sol’s brow furrowed as he instantly slipped into caretaker mode and became more concerned about the fact that one of his knights was involved in an “incident” than about the fact that he was stuck in some kind of pastoral purgatory. “Which knight?”

Kellareal responded with the barest of smiles. “All was resolved and is well. At present, the topic of conversation is what to do about you.” The angel glanced around. “Let’s get out of here.”

Instantly they were seated at the bar where Sol had conversed with Ragnal over a beer. The same pleasant-looking bartender put two chilled Lone Star beers on the bar.

“Anything else?” He looked from Sol to Kellareal and back to Sol.

Sol shook his head.

Kellareal said, “No. Thank you,” and watched the man until he was out of sight. His black eyes slid back to Sol.

“You were saying…” Sol did revolutions in the air with his right hand to hurry the Enforcer along. “…what to do about me.”

“You know, your sense of self-preservation doesn’t seem to be fully developed.”

Sol searched Kellareal’s face. He’d made note of the angel’s height and unusual looks. White blond hair and black eyes wasn’t exactly a common color combination.

“You want me to be afraid of you?”

The angel grinned. “No.” He scraped a hand back and forth over his chin. “But most people are.” Sol started to open his mouth, but Kellareal held a hand up. “I know. You’re experiencing some anxiety and you want me to move toward the point.”

Sol waited.

“Well, it’s good news.”

“Really?”

“Yes. We found you a body. One that’s perfect as a matter of fact. Actually better than your old one.”

“Hey. There was nothing wrong with my body.”

“Okay. Simmer down. I’m just saying you might accept the transition easier if you consider this an upgrade.

“A thirty-one-year-old Black Swan knight was the victim of a vampire bite in Rio last night while on patrol. He was staked by his partner, according to procedure. But I guess you know all about procedure. We recovered the body in time to heal the wounds and purge the bacteria that interacts so badly with human biology in your world.

“We also forged transfer papers to New Jersey. As far as his former unit commander knows…”

“Sovereign.”

“Yes. His former Sovereign. As far as he’s concerned Sir Farthing is on his way to Fort Dixon right now.”

If Solomon Nememiah had ever been more excited, he’d lost track of that memory. He was going back. He tried out the name to see how it felt on his tongue. “Farthing.” He realized that he probably shouldn’t be giddy about some poor devil’s fate, but he told himself that it was circle of life stuff. One creature benefits from another’s misfortune.

“Wait a minute. The vampire bite… it wasn’t, uh…”

“No. No. Relax. It was pure fate. The man was in the wrong place at the wrong time and that’s all there was to it.

“Sir Reverence Foster Farthing. Rev for short. There’ll be a scar over your heart where he was staked so you’ll need to come up with a cover story in case you’re asked. Bicycle accident as a child or something like that.”

Kellareal grinned. “And I know you don’t care one way or the other, but most people who see you in your new body? The first thing they’re going to think is that you’re good-looking.”

“Yeah. You’re right. I don’t care about that. What I do care about is the catch.”

“Catch? Ah. The fine print. Very astute because indeed there is some.”

“Thought so. Let’s have it.” Sol gave his beer bottle several rotations on the bar without lifting it up.

“First, you have to agree formally that you will never tell anyone who you were.”

Sol nodded.

“Second, some of Farthing’s memories may be embedded in the brain circuitry and that could cause some confusion. Could take some getting used to.”

“I’ll handle it.”

“Last, you’ll be deposited into a healthy new body on its way to Jefferson Unit to take up the position of active duty knight. We’re putting you on the chess board with all the tools you require. What happens after that is up to you.”

“I guess it’s the best I could hope for.”

Kellareal smiled and put his hand on Sol’s shoulder. “It’s better than I thought was possible. You fought the law and damned if you didn’t win. Everybody knows it doesn’t get better than that.”

“I guess I owe you a thank you. So. Thank you. When do I leave?”

The angel laughed.

Sol blinked and when he opened his eyes he was on a company jet that was taxiing. He looked out the window to a view he knew very well. The plane was pulling up to The Order’s private hangar at Fort Dixon. He moved his hands to unbuckle his seatbelt, but the action felt unfamiliar. No hint of carpal tunnel or reminder of the finger he’d broken in Seville.

He looked down at the young strong hands in his lap, the long fingers and large knuckles, the smoothness and even skin tone, the healthy veins. All of a sudden he couldn’t wait to stand up and get to a mirror.

When Kellareal had talked about his looks, he told the truth when he said that was the last of his concerns, but facing the very real prospect of a new identity put that in a different light. The desire to know what he looked like was as intense as a compulsion.

When he felt the plane’s brakes make that final stop, he swung up and out of his seat with the easy athleticism of a much younger man. The flight attendant came toward him. She wasn’t just smiling. She was flirting.

“Let me get that for you, sir.” She pulled a bleached duffel down from the overhead and put her hand on his bicep in a way that was clearly invitational. “Did you enjoy your flight?”

He smiled back at her, appreciating the attention as someone who had once taken sexual magnetism for granted, then woke up one day to realize that he was no longer turning heads. “I must have. It seemed to go by really fast.”

She giggled.

A jeep was pulling up just as he descended the last step and set foot on the tarmac.

“Airman Konolkin, at your service, sir.” The young driver took Sol’s duffel and put it in the back of the jeep.

“Airman.” Sol nodded once and swung up into the vehicle. “Nice day.”

“Indeed it is, sir. Have you been to Fort Dixon before?”

As Sol stared straight ahead he was overwhelmed by the deluge of memories that question evoked. He felt his face soften into a small smile. “Yes. I have. Looking forward to being back.”

“Yes, sir.”

When he was dropped in front of Jefferson Unit, Sol shouldered his duffel and stood staring at the front of the building. If he was honest with himself, he hadn’t really believed he’d ever be back in a body entering J.U. again. He heard his stomach rumble and laughed out loud. He was hungry! Hungry and eager to see what he looked like.

He stepped inside the door and was standing on the outer circle of The Hub a few seconds later. There was definitely more hustle and bustle than the last time he’d stood in that spot. The extra activity looked good on J.U. His entrance hadn’t garnered any attention so he took the moment of temporary anonymity to turn right toward the men’s room.

A man was coming out, someone Sol didn’t recognize, but who had to be a hunter based on his age and the way he carried himself. He breathed a little sigh of relief thinking there was no one else in the restroom, but had to rethink that when he turned toward the mirrored wall.

His first thought was that there was someone else and that he’d have to wait. Then he realized that the stranger looking back at him, mirroring his every movement, was Rev Farthing. He let the duffel slide to the floor and approached the mirror, slowly examining every detail of the reflection.

Cripes! No wonder the flight attendant was a little gaga. That angel fellow didn’t lie. The kid in the mirror was damn good-looking. Light brown hair, dark brown eyes, and tanned skin pretty enough to be a woman’s. At least he thought that would be the case once he shaved off the travel scruff. He hesitated at the top button of his shirt feeling a little gay about peeping, but by the gods, it was his body and he deserved to have a look at it.

He pulled the sides of his shirt apart to reveal well-defined abs kept in top working condition. His eyes followed a natural path to the happy trail. He asked himself if he had a good excuse for a look at the package and decided that a piss stop was as good an excuse as any. So he unzipped, pulled out, looked up into the mirror and grinned at himself. Yeah. The angel was right. He could have done a lot worse.

Once he got all that pretty hair buzzed away from his head he’d start to settle into the new house of flesh.

Overseer Dimension

“Enforcer. You need to keep an eye on the vampire aberration on that outpost.” Heralda didn’t bother to look at Kellareal when she addressed him.

“Very well. What does ‘keeping an eye’ entail?”

She stopped what she was doing and looked at him. “We’ll assist that band of boys. What was the name?”

“Animal House?”

“No. The human boys.”

“The Order of the Black Swan.”

“Yes. We’ll give them just enough support to begin turning the tide their way, but not enough to raise suspicion of divine intervention or something of the sort. The last thing we need is another era of people claiming to have gods on their side.”

“You’re going to sponsor them? Black Swan, that is?”

Huber barked out a laugh, stopped abruptly and began sniffing the air in every direction. “Does anyone else smell irony on the grill?” he giggled. “The mother of vampire is sponsoring vampire hunters. If this ever gets out…”

“Shut it, Huber.” Heralda heaved a sigh while she considered goosing Huber with a small lightning bolt. She turned back to the angel, appearing more bored than anything. “Yes. I will sponsor them. Keep me posted.”

“All right. Do you have a goal in mind?”

“Um. How do they count time?” Kellareal showed her a vision of time in year increments. “Two hundred years.” Kellareal didn’t move or change expression. “Too long or too short?”

“In terms of their life spans, that’s eight generations.”

“Oh. Make it one hundred years then.”

The angel bowed and vanished before she changed her mind. He knew her habits all too well.

CHAPTER 8

Jefferson Unit, New Jersey

Rev Farthing went straight to the Sovereign’s office. He recognized the kid sitting at the assistant’s desk in the outer office. Bo Barrock.

Bo looked up. “Yes, sir? Can I help you?”

“Rev Farthing reporting for duty.” He looked toward the closed door. “Who’s the acting Sovereign?”

“Sir Catch. Glendennon Catch.”

“Sir Catch? Not Sovereign Catch?” Sol felt the same little rush of pride he always felt when one of his boys was inducted into the knighthood. That feeling of accomplishment never seemed to get old.

“No sir. It’s kind of a long story. Basically though, the unit Sovereign passed away and Glen, um, Sovereign Catch is one of the people filling in until he can be permanently replaced.”

“Thank you, Mr.,” Sol made a point of leaning back to read the on-duty-now name plate on the desk, “Barrock. Would it be possible for me to speak with Sir Catch?”

“Just a second, let me ask.” Bo rose and turned his back to Sol to knock lightly on the Sovereign’s door. He opened it, stuck his head in, and said something to Catch.

In another couple of seconds, the door was jerked wide open. Bo had to step out of the way as Glen advanced on Sol smiling with his hand out.

“Glendennon Catch. So glad to have you here.” Sol shook his hand. “You stiff from the flight? What is it? Ten hours?”

“Yeah. About that. And, no, I’m doing all right.”

Glen waved toward his office. “Good. Good. Come on in. You want something?”

“Well, to be honest, I haven’t had breakfast. I was going to check in with you and then try to scare something up.”

“No hunting necessary. We like to take first things first. Bo,” Glen turned to his assistant, “Get the kitchen to bring us the works.” Turning back to Sol, he said, “What do you like?”

“American all the way. Eggs. Bacon. Hash browns. Biscuits. Orange juice. Coffee.”

“No pancakes?”

Sol grinned at Glen. “A side of pancakes with warm maple syrup would be heaven.”

“Heaven, huh? Well, let’s see what we can do.” He motioned Sol into the office while he told Bo to bring the food to the conference room and call when it arrived.

When they were both seated in the office, Glen turned to Sol. “So. Again. Welcome. Bo said you asked to speak to me?”

“I did. I want to apply for the job of Sovereign.”

Glen had just raised a coffee cup to his lips and sputtered a little which caused some of the liquid to go down the wrong way and some to land on his keyboard. When Glen started wheezing, Sol stood up, but Glen stopped him with a wave. “Just give me a second,” he said in a strained and breathy voice as he tried to return his breathing to normal.

When he was once again in control of respiratory function, he looked across the desk at Sol with eyes slightly narrowed and a studious look on his face.

“What makes you think the position is open?”

“The HELP WANTED sign on the door.”

“Very funny.”

“I heard that you’re in line for impending field duty. Do you have somebody in line to take over here?”

Glen shook his head slowly, trying not to do a Snoopy dance in his chair or look otherwise too eager. Personally, he couldn’t imagine why anyone with faculties functioning properly would want the job, but if the guy in front of him turned out to be the real deal, he just might be the recipient of the first kiss Glen ever bestowed on another guy.

He didn’t really care how Farthing knew about the opening. He just hoped he was looking at a real replacement candidate for somebody who couldn’t really be replaced.

“Why do you want it? And what makes you think you have what it takes?”

The two questions that went straight to the heart of the matter. Sol was proud enough of Glen to bust the buttons on his shirt.

“I could give you a bunch of baloney answers, but I’m going to tell the truth even though it’s going to make me sound like an ass.”

“Okay.” Glen looked intrigued.

“I like to run things and I’m good at it.”

Glen stared for a minute and then started laughing. “You want to know what’s funny about that answer?”

“What?”

“That’s exactly the kind of thing the former Sovereign would have said. And there was never one better at the job. Ever.” Sol would have been lying if he didn’t admit that he enjoyed the flattery. It was nice to know that he’d left life with people thinking good things about him. “And what makes you think you can do the job?”

“Give me a try. No harm. No foul. Let’s negotiate a probation period.”

“Well, it’s not quite that easy to get hold of command around here, but I accept your application. Gladly. And will get the two other people who will be most instrumental in making a decision to conduct your vetting.”

“Could I ask who the other two are?”

“I doubt you know them. The head of science, research, and development, Dr. Thelonius Monq and knight emeritus, Sir Engel Storm.”

“You’re right. I don’t know them, but I have heard of both of them. I’ll look forward to the meeting or meetings, whatever the process may be.”

They chatted about various issues of running Jefferson Unit for a while longer until Bo stuck his head in to say breakfast was served. They moved the conversation into the conference room where Glen almost got the feeling that he was the one being interviewed.

The questions that Farthing asked about J.U. were so germane, so pertinent, that with each passing minute Glen was more and more certain that the perfect guy had just come walking through the door asking for the fu...

“If this is an example of the food around here, then I’m in.”

“You know, Farthing…”

“Call me Rev.”

“Sure. I’ll tell you what. There’s an outside chance I might even get the two decision makers in here to talk to you right away. If it’s up to me, we’ll get your tryout.” Sol smiled. “You got a resume?” Sol’s face dropped and Glen started laughing. “Gotcha. Just kidding. Not a resume kind of job. Nothing could prepare somebody. Believe me. Wait here.”

Glen left and, while he was gone, breakfast dishes were taken away and replaced with a fresh coffee service. Since there was nothing else to do, he poured himself a cup of black and settled into a chair. Waiting wasn’t his favorite thing whether it was lying on a grassy knoll or sitting at a conference table. He’d already heard enough to know that time was being wasted, but he understood the need to convince his own people that he should be in charge. It was just weird.

Twenty minutes later Glen opened the door and held it as Monq and Storm entered. It was harder than Sol could have imagined pretending that he didn’t know them. He’d shared considerable history with both those men, but had to act like they were strangers.

They sat down at the table and conducted the interview informally, more like a casual conversation than a tribunal. Sol didn’t have a resume on paper, but he was able to recite his qualifications on demand and make a case for why he should be given a try.

It was a tricky mental exercise, using key points that could only spring from his personal working knowledge of the position without revealing that he actually had personal working knowledge of the position.

He noted the glances that passed between the three as punctuation to some of his answers. After a couple of hours, Storm said, “Will you excuse us for a few minutes, please?”

“Of course,” he said.

In less than two minutes, the door reopened and they filed back in. He guessed from the grin on Glen’s face that he was going to be sitting in his old chair real soon.

“You’re in,” Glen said, looking a little elated and a lot relieved. “Ninety day probationary position. If all goes well, there will be a review by higher ups at the end of that time and then it will be made permanent. Don’t screw up because we,” he motioned between himself and Storm, “don’t want the job back.”

Storm stuck out his hand. “Welcome to Jefferson Unit, Temporary Sovereign Farthing.” Sol took his hand and Storm used his other hand to slap Sol on the shoulder.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Glen said, “I need to make a call to get everything ready. We’d made arrangements to house a new knight and hadn’t planned on opening up the Sovereign’s apartment.”

“Anything is fine. I just need a bed. I’m ready to get started.”

“Come on,” Storm said. “Let me walk with you and help you get situated with credentials and a tour while they’re getting your quarters ready.”

They were chatting as they walked. Unbeknownst to Storm, Sol was asking sly questions for the purpose of getting up to date and up to speed on what was going on in his absence.

He was totally focused on that conversation when Storm stopped and said, “Okay. I’m dropping you off here, but I’ll catch up with you in a little while.”

Sol nodded and turned his attention to where he was.

There were two things that almost caused him to give himself away. The first, and by far more traumatic, was standing behind a counter a few steps away. The sight of her almost made his knees buckle and, at the end of his life, he would say the hardest thing he ever did was to keep from vaulting over the counter and pulling her into his arms.

“Can I help you?”

He thought she looked much the same, but with a touch of sadness maybe. She was wearing her business persona: crisp, efficient, determined not to miss a single detail. Few Black Swan employees had ever seen Farnsworth off duty and relaxed.

A lifetime of discipline helped with the control. Instead of grabbing her up and showing her how much he missed her, he stared and swallowed until she repeated herself.

“Is there something I can do for you?”

His presence of mind snapped into place and he knew he had to play the role of newcomer. He stepped back outside the door, pretending to read the placard. “Operations, right?”

“Yes. This is Operations.”

He walked up to the counter and smiled with the sort of warmth she didn’t usually get from the knights.

“Rev Farthing. Reporting for credentials.” She lowered her eyes and reached for the clipboard that held her docket. “And what’s your name?”

“Everybody calls me Farnsworth,” she said without looking up as she reached for the packet sitting near her right hand.

“Farnsworth. I’ll bet our names will be next to each other on the revised list of J.U. personnel.”

She was distracted and only halfway listening to what he was saying. When she realized he’d been speaking to her, a little line formed between her brows. “What?”

When she looked up, she met his eyes and registered that his gaze was intense.

He pointed to the personnel manifest. “Farthing. Farnsworth.”

“Oh. Yes.” She placed the packet on the counter in front of him, “Here it is,” then turned her head to the left to speak to a trainee who was doing office time. “Mr. Chorzak, take Sir Farthing on a thorough tour of the facility.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Spaz hurried around the counter and waited by the door.

Sol leaned so far toward Farnsworth that she took a small step back. The fact that he’d put her in a position of retreat pushed at least one of her buttons and made hackles rise. With satisfaction he saw that fire could still be brought to her eyes.

He held onto her gaze like he was trying to cast a spell. “That’s Sovereign Farthing.” He said it softly with a slight smile, making it sound more like a promise than a correction.

“Sovereign?” She looked confused and a little flustered, which she tried to hide by looking through paperwork. He noticed that she wasn’t wearing the ring, but wasn’t surprised. She was no longer engaged. “I don’t have any documentation to that effect.”

“Just got the job. Technically I’m on probation for ninety days.”

“Oh,” she said softly. “Well, um, congratulations, Sovereign Farthing.”

It was hard for her to imagine someone else filling Sol’s role, but intellectually she recognized that the page had to be turned.

If Farnsworth wasn’t acutely aware of the difference in their ages, she would have thought the probationary head of Jefferson Unit was flirting with her. But she’d just reviewed his file that morning as she prepared to complete the transfer of a knight. She knew that he was thirty-one. That put her at a whopping thirteen years older.

Internally, she scoffed at her imagination for sending the thought of flirtation across her radar. She told herself that she was old enough to be his mother, at least in a few drastically primitive and barbaric cultures.

The time she’d been without Sol crystalized in her heart the fact that no replacement for Sol was ever going to walk through that door. He was one of a kind.

“Sovereign Farthing, my function as head of Operations is to make things work here. If you find that you’re in need of feminine companionship, I can make arrangements for you to connect with a variety of, ah, establishments frequented by young women.”

He held her gaze for a moment longer than necessary, then cocked his head slightly, gave her a suddenly wicked smile, knocked on the counter with his middle knuckle and turned toward the door where the trainee was waiting patiently.

“Let’s take that tour, shall we? Mr. Chorzak, is it?”

‘Yes, sir. Everyone calls me Spaz.”

Sol looked down at him. “Not really.”

Spaz grinned. “Yes, sir. Really.”

“Well we may have to do something about that. Even my knights-to-be deserve more respect.”

“It’s alright, sir. I don’t mind.”

“Well. I do. So far as I’m concerned, you’re Mr. Chorzak.”

“Yes, sir.” Kellan Chorzak offered a small, shy smile. He really didn’t mind being called Spaz. He knew it was done good-naturedly and almost affectionately. Still, the idea of being ‘respected’ had its own appeal, particularly when that respect was coming from the new head of J.U.

Farnsworth had been working in that office for twenty years, since she was twenty-four years old. The first decade and a half, she received her fair share of attention, and flirting, from the knights who drifted in and out. They were used to being admired by the female sex and they typically came with a certain swaggered poise that said they knew they were looking good.

She couldn’t pinpoint when the flirting had stopped, but one day she realized that nobody had tried to impress her with a smile or a bedroom voice in, well, years. So naturally having one of the young knights, or, er, administrators, regard her with something other than professional courtesy was a little bit noteworthy and a lot flattering.

All morning her thoughts returned to the encounter with the new Sovereign. Her instincts had told her he’d been deliberately charming, but her intellect contended that he couldn’t possibly be genuinely interested in her. And, even if the Earth tilted on its axis and he was interested in her in that way, she wasn’t ready to try to move past a love affair with a man like Solomon Nemamiah and didn’t know if she ever would. A woman just never gets over a man like that. Ever.

The second time Sol almost gave himself away because of an inappropriate emotional response was the stop on Chorzak’s tour at The Chamber. Sol stepped inside trying to pretend to see it for the first time, but his breath caught in his throat when he saw the portrait hanging on the west wall.

Chorzak had been prattling away when he noticed that Sol had stopped. He turned to see what had grabbed the attention of Big Boss.

“That’s a picture of the last Sovereign.”

“Oh?” Sol said simply as he started moving toward it.

“Yeah. Everybody around here thought he was the sh…, um, thought he was the best.”

Sol smirked down at Chorzak. “Did they now?”

“Yep. I’m afraid you got big shoes to fill, sir.”

“Watch the impertinence, Mr. Chorzak.”

Spaz stood up a little straighter. “Yes, sir.”

Sol kept going until he was close enough to read the plaque.

In honor of

Solomon Neuhm Nememiah

Jefferson Unit Sovereign

and Distinguished Knight

The Order of the Black Swan

“The Lady Laiken… She’s our martial arts teacher? She had the portrait done by the same guy who paints the heroes. I guess she’s the one that decided what the words should say.”

“The one who decided.”

“Sir?”

“She isn’t the one that decided. She’s the one who decided.”

“Yes, sir.”

Thinking through how he would handle things if he was new to J.U. and had never held the job of Sovereign before, Sol decided he would want to brain pick the people who had done the job previously. So he called a meeting with Storm and Glen for the dinner hours that very night. Exercising one of his brand new privileges, he had the club lounge closed and had Crisp deliver dinner for three where they could dine and talk privately away from curious, prying eyes and ears.

At several points in the conversation he pressed his lips together in an expression that was familiar to Storm and unique, or heretofore unique, to Sol. It would have been impossible for Storm and Glen to recount their history with the job without memorializing Sol in the process. He sat back and looked amused while they chuckled over Sol stories.

After dinner he withdrew a small box of pencil thin black cigars from his pocket and offered them to Storm and Glen. Glen shook his head, but Storm quietly took one and waited to see what would happen next. Storm thought that it would be a curiosity of synchronicity if two people attracted to the J.U. Sovereign position happened to smoke the same brand - the same obscure brand - of imported Turkish cigars.

While Storm was mulling that over, the new Sovereign reached into the same shirt pocket and produced an old-fashioned lighter, the kind that requires lighter fluid. He noticed Storm eyeing the lighter. He looked down at it and said, “Found this in the Sovereign’s apartment. I guess it belonged to the former resident. Would you like to have it? As a memento?”

“No. He’d probably enjoy knowing it was being used. Not many people want to fool with them these days.”

Sol was pleased with the cover. He lit Storm’s cigar before lighting his own, then placed the lighter on the table and proceeded to give it lazy quarter turns, exactly as Sol had done when he was alive. It caused goose bumps to rise on Storm’s skin.

As they talked, understanding began to settle around Sol like an unwelcome shroud. It didn’t take long for him to deduce that neither Storm nor Glen had been apprised of the information which he’d come by when called to Edinburgh in the middle of his holiday. Before he died. Which meant unit personnel were way, way, way behind in making preparations for the massive overhaul needed to get J.U. ready for a swarm of new or returning residents.

What was worse, if Storm and Glen didn’t know, that meant that Farnsworth didn’t know either and she would be ninety-nine percent of the reason for the success or failure of relocating a steady stream of Black Swan immigrants. Sol couldn’t believe that something so big could have fallen through the normally sealed shut Black Swan cracks. He supposed that between the sudden and unexpected need to replace him as Sovereign and the immediate crisis of a viral mutation, the briefing had just gotten lost in the stampede.

Maybe Simon Tvelgar had thought he’d had a chance to pass on the intel before he passed. He took a drag on his little cigar while thoughts whizzed through his brain at Mach one. Instead of weeks to get ready, they had days. Truthfully, in his opinion, Storm and Glen were not prepared to implement far-reaching changes of that scope. And after all, wasn’t that exactly why he’d fought so hard to get back there? Because he honestly believed that nobody else was as passionate about walking the tight-rope dichotomy of ridding the world of vampire while trying to take care of Black Swan knights at the same time.

Unfortunately acting on that information meant making some of the people that he most cared for very unhappy.

Sol thanked his temporary replacements for the informal briefing and, before they parted for the night, told Glen he would like to see him in the office the next day at ten o’clock. Storm received a similar instruction, but he was given a time of three o’clock instead.

Storm agreed, but added that he would be making himself scarce now that a suitable replacement had been found.

Sol gave no reply, but turned and walked away.

CHAPTER 9

The first decision Sol made as the new head of Jefferson Unit was to put his old identity to rest in his own head. He needed to stop thinking of himself as Sol and begin thinking of himself as Rev Farthing, Sovereign on probation who took over for the late Sol Nememiah. On the first night of residence in a comfortably familiar apartment, he held a memorial for his first incarnation with a bottle of Scotch, vowing to rise the next morning, reborn, and ready to conquer Life: Part Deux.

At exactly ten o’clock Glen came to stand in the open doorway on the threshold of the Sovereign’s office and waited for an invitation to enter.

Rev looked up and motioned him in. “Sir Catch?”

“Good morning, Sovereign,” Catch said with a grin as he stepped into Rev’s new office.

“I would return your greeting in kind, but can’t because I can see into the future.”

Glen looked intrigued. “You’re clairvoyant, sir?”

“Not at all, but I can still predict that you won’t be looking quite so cheerful fifteen minutes from now.”

“Uh oh. First day on the job and you’re already busting as…, um, enforcing the discipline that’s been lacking since the former Sovereign passed away.”

Rev gave him the toothy grin his shit-eating comment deserved. “Sit. We put out the smokes last night.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I see that one of Z Team retired.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And that you’re throwing in with them?”

“That’s right.”

Rev nodded and looked decidedly unhappy about that. “I see. Well, let me say this then. I haven’t known you long and I don’t know you well, but you seem like a nice sort. A nice sort with an outstanding and impeccable record. You would have to be remarkable to keep this place running. So I’m compelled to ask.

“Are. You. Sure?”

Glen smiled. “I see their reputation has made it south of the Equator.”

“Oh, yes. They’re infamous enough. I doubt there’s anyone connected with Black Swan in any capacity who hasn’t heard some Z story at some time or other.”

Glen laughed. “Yes. And maybe some of it is even true!” Rev’s scowl brought Glen’s levity to a full stop. “I appreciate your concern, sir, but I expect I’ll be able to…”

When Rev’s mind unexpectedly flashed on a memory of an encounter with Z Team, he gasped from the assault of bright, vivid images and feelings of both excitement and anxiety. The memory came through crystal clear, complete with sounds, voices, and music. That would have been fine if he had always been Rev Farthing, but the memory he was witnessing – in his own head – was a recreation of somebody else’s experience.

After a couple of seconds he realized that it was probably an episode of the memory cross-over phenomenon that Kellareal had warned him about.

Glen had come around the desk and was standing over him looking concerned. “What’s wrong? You need medical?”

Rev swallowed and pushed the visions aside. “No. Of course not. An old injury. I just turned the wrong way and pinched a nerve. First time that’s happened in years.”

“You sure?”

Rev pointed to the chair. “Sit down over there and let’s finish this talk.” Glen hesitated, but did as he was told. “So you have the crazy idea that you’re going to rehabilitate that gang of miscreants?”

Glen smirked. “Why don’t you just tell me how you really feel about them?”

“Just did.”

“Maybe I’ll learn something from them. Maybe they’ll learn something from me. Maybe everybody benefits, The Order most of all. At least that’s the plan.”

“Well said, Sir Catch. You’re a big boy, but you’re a green knight. Being able to count on your team in the field is everything. Do you think these men are worthy of that trust?”

Glen had learned a lot about maturity while playing the role of Sovereign. Not wanting to rush into an answer without giving it due consideration, he took a moment and mulled the prospect over in his mind. “I appreciate your concern, Sovereign. I really do. As to the issue of trust, I honestly don’t know, but if that’s truly at question, they should be relieved of hunter duties.”

Rev sighed and reached for his coffee cup. The kid was right. Their antics always seemed to stop just short of the discharge line.

“Next order of business. The vampire virus has mutated. Not only is it no longer affected by the vaccine, but evidence points to the new strain being stronger and more aggressive. At least the conversion process has accelerated. Vamps can be made in minutes.”

Glen paled visibly and almost whispered, “Minutes.”

Rev continued as if he’d just delivered the stock market report. “I need a report on housing for knights immediately, as in two weeks ago. We’re recalling some of the retired to active duty and some of the trainees will be processed early.

“Including, Z Team, who will be staying here.” He looked at Glen pointedly when he said it. “And the married couples… We now have eight in residence. We’ll need housing for twenty more.”

“Twenty?” Glen’s eyes bugged out. “There hadn’t been twenty-eight hunters in residence even in the days before the vaccine.”

Rev nodded. “Your point?”

Glen moved his head back and forth in an odd motion that indicated discombobulated disbelief. “We don’t have the staff to support that.”

“That’s right. But we will. They’re on the way.” He glanced at the calendar. “Should be starting to arrive in three days.”

“Three days?” Glen repeated like he didn’t believe it.

“You and your co-temporary-administrator were not made aware of the crisis or told to prepare for these changes in status, which was an oversight.”

“Uh, no. We weren’t. How is it that you know so much about it when you just got here?”

“That is no longer your concern, Sir Catch. You weren’t told. It’s not your fault, but it is a problem that’s going to require diligent management and long hours.”

“Yes, sir. Sorry for overstepping.”

“In addition to the report on housing, I also need to see your recommendations on which three of the trainees could be made ready for field work right away.”

“We don’t have any trainees ready to go now, sir.”

“Hard times, Sir Knight.” Glen perceived from Rev’s piercing look that he wasn’t happy about the request, but it was what it was. “Every training unit has been tasked with repurposing. We have to come up with three to hit the numbers. You’re in the best position to judge which three are most ready.”

Glen looked as if he’d aged years within the last few minutes. ‘Most ready’ is not the same thing as ready. Nobody in his right mind wanted to pit kids against vampire. And, if it had to be done, nobody – least of all he, wanted the job of choosing which kids it would be.

Rev turned to his computer screen in dismissal. “Seems we’ve got a lot to do and not much time in which to do it.”

“Yes. That is how it would seem,” Glen replied.

Rev tried to look around Glen. “Who’s on duty right now?”

“Bo Barrock.”

“Please tell him to call Operations and ask Ms. Farnsworth to come for a briefing as soon as possible.”

“I will. Is there anything else, sir?”

Rev looked at his watch. “Could you request the presence of Sir Hawking and the Lady Laiken in my office at 3:00?” Glen seemed to hesitate. “Is there a problem?”

“Um, well, sir, the problem is that I don’t yet know you well enough to know if that’s a true request or an order.” In response to that, Glen received a stare so piercing that a lesser man would have squirmed. “Let’s say that it’s a request unless declined. Then it’s an order.”

“Yes, sir.” Glen turned to leave. “Don’t forget to tell Mr. Barrock to get Farnsworth in here. If we’re going to pull this off, it will only be because she has miracle-worker in her skill set.”

Glen looked curious. “You know her, sir?”

Rev glanced up from the computer screen. “Only by reputation and a brief introduction yesterday.”

“Farnsworth has a reputation,” he repeated. “Huh.” Glen was clearly bemused about the idea.

“That’s all.”

At 11:00 Farnsworth knocked on the door.

Rev had been just about ready to grab his ears and scream, but when he looked up and saw her, a calmness descended and he was sure no task was impossible.

“Come in,” he said softly.

“Sovereign.” Her tone was crisp. She had her beautiful hair pulled back into a bun at her nape and held with crocheted netting. She wore tailored black pants, black heels and a sleeveless green silk blouse that fell to her hip line. It fit close enough to reveal the lines of her body without being overtly clingy. Elegant. Professional.

She sat in front of his desk and opened her portaputer with efficiency, apparently readying to take notes.

Rev stared openly for a couple of seconds, then rose, walked around the desk, closed the door which she’d left standing open, and returned to his chair.

“How are you?”

Farnsworth looked confused. “How am I?”

“Was that too intimate a question?”

Her face flushed instantly. “Intimate?”

“I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, especially in light of the fact that I have bad news.”

He spent the next few minutes explaining the crisis and the fact that they were weeks behind. She was cool, calm and collected through receipt of the news and all the implications for her and her department. It was also noteworthy that the only thing that got a reaction from her was his use of the word ‘intimate’.

“So. Now that I’ve lowered the boom, as they say, I’m eager to hear your reaction.”

“My reaction? That’s why they pay me the big bucks?”

He tilted his head. “I know how much you make. It’s not big bucks.”

She smiled. “It was a joke.”

“Of course, the big bucks.” He returned her smile and held her gaze for a second. “What do you need from the rest of us to make this happen?”

“I need to see the report. Who? When? What do they do for The Order? We can hand off requisitioning medical supplies to medical, food to Crisp, and make housekeeping responsible for readying the apartments and dorm rooms that have been closed. I’ve got to have a total count on beds really soon though.

“Oh, I’ll also need the flight schedules. My trainee assistants can coordinate pickups at the hangar. So long as someone else has made sure that there is enough support staff, we’ll be okay.”

She stared for a moment as if she was expecting Rev to say something.

“Yes?”

“Would you like me to double check the duty apportionment data to make sure we have the right ratio of support staff to knights and trainees?”

“That would be very much appreciated. I don’t like unpleasant surprises.” She laughed out loud. “What?”

“Well, who does? By the way, I’m not getting involved with anything to do with the armory.”

Rev nodded. “Do you think you’ll have an idea on where we are by tonight?”

She pursed her lips. “We better. They’re coming ready or not. Right?”

“Right. So, in that case, would you like to have dinner with me and go over your thoughts, insights, discoveries…?”

She blinked several times. “I can make a report to you here.” She looked around his office like it was safe.

“Yes, but you have to eat. I have to eat. Think of it as multitasking.”

“Business dinner.”

“Strictly business.”

“All right then.”

“I’ll come by the office at eight. That is, if you think you’ll be working late.”

She snorted and immediately regretted the sound she’d made, even though she told herself that she didn’t care what the new Sovereign thought of her. At all.

“Yes. I will be working late. I’ll stop for dinner and then get back to it.”

Rev’s eyes roamed over her appreciatively. “I wish I could tell you that wouldn’t be necessary. But the fact is that this entire convergence depends on you.”

She met his gaze and saw that he was being sincere and not just polite. “Thank you for noticing. I’ll do my part.”

She caught the twinkle of amusement in his eyes when he smiled. “I know you will. Eight o’clock.”

At three o’clock Storm, Ram, and Elora were waiting in the hall outside the new Sovereign’s office wondering what in the world he might want with them. There was no one in the outer office because there was a shift of trainee duty at that time of day.

Storm was in midsentence telling the other two what he knew about the new guy, when the inner office door swung open.

Rev motioned to them. “Come in.” Short. Terse. Authoritative. He acted like a man who’d been running that office forever, not like someone who’d just arrived and was feeling his way around. “Come on in and take a seat.”

Storm took his customary place leaning against the back wall. Ram took his customary place at the end of the sofa closest to the Sovereign’s chair and next to the Courtpark window. Elora sat in a leather chair facing the desk and was thinking that she’d been in that office countless times and had never sat anywhere else.

“I recognize you from your files, of course. My name is Rev Farthing, but you’ve…” He motioned at Ram and Elora. “…probably heard that already.

“I wish I had better news.”

Rev spent a few minutes catching them up on the crisis. Of the three, the only one who had anything to say was Ram. He scrubbed a hand down the front of his face and punctuated the gesture with, “Great Paddy.”

“Yes. Well, insofar as this predicament affects the three of you, and this does come from on high, every able bodied knight under the age of thirty-five is being recalled to active duty.”

Ram jumped to his feet. “Active duty! For Paddy’s sake, man! We have an apartment full of boxes packed for movin’. Look at my mate. You see that fuckin’ nice bloom on her cheeks? ‘Tis ‘cause she’s daydreamin’ about a stack of an old house in Ireland, raisin’ elflin’s and black and silver pups!”

Elora had remained seated. “We have a baby, Sovereign.”

The softening of Rev’s face was barely noticeable. He’d been playing hard ass for a very long time. “Many of the retired knights have children, Lady Laiken. Perhaps even most.” He glanced at Storm. “Sir Caelian is being recalled as well.

“You have seven days before B Team rotation begins. Six hour shifts every other day.” He turned to Elora. “Sir Catch is preparing a report on which three of the trainees he thinks are most ready to go early. As martial instructor, I’d like to have your input on that as well.”

At that, Elora jumped to her feet. She was incensed. “Stop right there! Putting seasoned knights back on the street is one thing, but you’re not getting my boys before they’re good and ready to go.”

“It’s not up to me.”

“Of course it is. You’re not getting them. And as far as B Team goes, two of us have a child together. Do you understand that that’s a special circumstance?”

Rev seemed to be considering that. “You’re right. You can’t both be out on the same patrol. Take turns and I’ll be B Team’s fourth.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

Storm spoke up for the first time. “You can’t handle the duties of Sovereign and be on rotation.”

“I absolutely can. And I will.” Storm opened his mouth to speak, but Rev cut him off. “So long as I’m in charge here, it’s not up to you.”

To Storm, he said, “Go spend time with your wife and report in seven days.”

To Ram and Elora, he said, “Go unpack. You’re not going anywhere until we can replace you.”

Watching as Ram and Elora looked to each other, an onlooker would have sworn an entire silent conversation took place through the connection they made with their eyes.

Ram turned back to Rev. “If our boy is going to be in danger…”

Rev interrupted. “If we’re talking about vampire, this facility, which will soon house twenty-eight active duty knights and twenty trainees, is the safest place the child could be.”

“Aye.” Ram looked dubious. “I once thought the same.”

The three members of B Team filed out into the hall, but didn’t speak until they got into the elevator. Storm punched Hub level and turned to Ram. “How about a drink?”

“You read my mind, brother.”

After they had settled into a booth near the bar Storm sat back and shook his head. “I’d rather take a horse-whipping than deliver the damn edict to Litha.”

“’Tis no’ your doin’. You’re the victim here, the victim of vampire virus once removed. If anythin’ she should be coverin’ you with sympathetic kisses and cooin’ about how The Order is king of mean.”

Storm smirked at Ram. “Once removed? You have always had the oddest way of looking at things.”

“Just another reason why you’re incomparably fond of me. Wonder what Kay’s goin’ to say about this unwelcome development.”

“Wonder what Katrina is going to say.”

Storm looked at Elora across the booth table between them. “You’re being uncharacteristically quiet.”

Realizing that was true, Ram turned his head to watch her reaction. When she didn’t speak right away, he put his arm around her shoulder. “What’s goin’ ‘round in that beautiful noggin, my girl?”

Elora raised her gaze to meet Ram’s, looked across at Storm, and then lowered her eyes to the table. “You heard him,” she said quietly. “The vaccine, which came from my blood, has compounded the problem so that it’s worse than it was before.”

The two men knew her well enough to extrapolate her reasoning at the same time. Guilt.

“Elora,” Storm began, “you can’t possibly be thinking of taking on responsibility for this. For gods’ sake, woman, you’re just a plaything of the Fates. Like the rest of us.“

“Stormy’s right, love. You thinkin’ ‘tis you… well ‘tis daft and there’s nothin’ for it.”

Storm rolled his eyes at Ram’s lack of delicacy. “What Rammel means to say is that, if we were going to place blame, which we’re not, but if we were, it would be on Monq. Not you.”

“AYE! ‘TWAS MONQ!” Noticing that his outburst had drawn the attention of the few other people in the bar, Ram self-moderated his behavior, a rarity to be certain, and lowered his voice. “The whole thin’ is a result of the quack’s experiment and lays no’ at your feet.”

Elora looked up and searched Ram’s eyes like she was looking for evidence that he believed what he was saying. When she seemed satisfied with what she saw, she looked over at Storm and found no accusation there either.

“Should I volunteer as an incubator to try and convert the new strain?”

“NO!!” Storm and Ram answered in unison, without hesitation, and with conviction. If Elora was a normal person, she would have been startled enough by the suddenness of their response to jump from her seat.

After a few seconds of silence, she said, “Okay.” Looking between the two, she said, “I remember how I used to feel, thinking about you patrolling without me.” She let her gaze settle on Ram. “I honestly don’t know how I’m going to be able to sit at home wondering…”

Under the table she felt Ram’s big warm hand cover hers. She interlaced her fingers with his. “Maybe I should…”

Both men knew what she was about to say. Again the response was quick, sure, and in unison. “NO!!”

When a couple of beats had elapsed, Ram said, “No doubt ‘tis harder on the one stayin’ behind.” He gave her the signature killer smile. “You’ll have to endure the discomfort just like...” His smile faltered when he allowed images of himself being the one waiting for her to return from patrol. “Fuck.”

Storm looked at him with sympathy.

Elora took in a deep breath and blew it out. “As to the matter of my boys, I’d rather kill that pretty bastard than let him send my babies out before they’re ready.”

Ram scowled. “Pretty bastard?” He pulled back and looked at Elora like she’d grown a horn in the center of her forehead. “You mean the new Sovereign? You think he’s pretty?” Ram sounded distinctly unhappy about the idea.

“Way to miss the point, Ram.” She leaned into her husband so that her upper body was pressing against his arm. “Of course he’s nowhere close to walking perfection. Like you,” she purred.

His forehead cleared of lines as he smiled down at her, their faces inches apart.

“Gods of Halla. When are the two of you going to settle into old married life like the rest of us? To your point, Elora.” She looked over at Storm. “You can’t kill the new Sovereign. Without even broaching the morality of it, they would either send a replacement with the same orders, or order Glen and me to stand in. In which case they would also send the same orders. This is not going to be one of those times when you have a shot at fighting City Hall and winning.”

“City Hall?”

Elora had been in Loti Dimension for nearly two years, which was long enough to glean most cultural differences, but not all.

“Metaphor for authority.”

“Oh.”

“So. What do you do when you disagree strongly, but can’t fight?”

“Find a way to accommodate while preserving as much integrity as possible.”

“Yeah. Exactly.”

“You’re saying that, if I have to give up three boys, I can at least control the situation to the extent of picking the ones that stand the best chance of surviving.”

“Yep.”

Elora stared at Storm for a few minutes while various candidates filed through her head. When every one of them ended with a vicious vampire bite, she finally shook her head and said, “No. The new Sovereign has to die. He and every replacement they send. Storm, if that’s you, I’m sorry. You’ve been a really good friend. And rescuer. I’m auntie to your little girl and BFF to your wife, but I’m not sending lambs to slaughter even for you.”

Ram chuckled, slouched into the booth leather, and threw back a shot of Irish whiskey.

“Elora…” Storm started.

She hissed at him. “We’re supposed to be keeping the innocent safe from monsters, Storm. That includes those boys. I don’t have any kids who are ready to be knights.”

“I’ve got two Solomon Nememiah Medals of Honor that say otherwise.”

Elora looked at him like she’d been slapped. She opened her mouth, but having lost her breath, it took her a while to whisper, “No.”

The challenging expression on Storm’s face melted into regret when he saw how deeply she was affected by the possibility that she’d have to give up the two boys who’d saved her own life. She looked at him like he’d just suggested throwing her own children to wolves.

“I’m sorry. I know you’ve gotten close to the trainees since you moved back here.” He nodded toward the surroundings in general. “I don’t mean to be so hard ass about it. What can we do to help?”

She took in a shallow breath like she was fighting for emotional stability and shook her red and pink head. “There’s no good angle. If you put the trainees with veteran knights it’s not only dangerous for the trainees, it’s dangerous for the knights…” She stopped like she’d just received a message from the gods. “That’s it! I need to be scheduled to go with them when they draw on rotation. I’ll be their fourth!”

“NO!!” They answered in unison.

“The two of you are beginning to sound like the narrator’s chorus in a Greek tragedy,” she scowled. “And, in the words of the new Sovereign, it’s not up to you.”

“The fuck ‘tis no’.”

“Elora, you’re a member of B Team and we’re one of those outfits that’s hard to get into and hard to get out of once you’re in. I know what you’re thinking. It’s on your face plain as the day is long. You can’t babysit knights. Not even very shiny new ones.”

“I can.”

“No,” he said firmly. “You cannot. If The Order is going to give them the title, then you have to give them the respect that goes along with it. Compromising their confidence, which is what you’d be doing - and they’re not dumb - threatens their safety more than a nest of vampire ever could.”

Lines formed between Elora’s brows as she let that sink in. She looked over at Ram, who responded with a slow nod. “Give the fucker his due, love. He’s no’ always right, but this time he is.”

“After he put that out there, even if I didn’t think he was right, I couldn’t go with them now. Just on the off chance that he is right. Thanks a lot, Storm.”

He shrugged. She was being sarcastic, but she should have been giving him genuine thanks because he was right.

“I’ve been so preoccupied thinking about what this means for me.” She looked at Ram. “And you.” She looked at Storm. “And you. And my boys. I hadn’t even thought about how awful this must be for poor Baka. He was so, I don’t know, euphoric about the vaccine putting an end to the plague. I’ll bet he’s taking this really hard.”

“Well, I’ll tell you one thing,” Storm said. “He’d better make sure he keeps his ass away from fangs because there won’t be any ‘third time is the charm’.”

Ram snickered.

“That’s not funny,” Elora scowled at Ram whose smile didn’t waver in the least.

Storm’s cell vibrated against his hip. He pulled it out and glanced across the table at Ram and Elora. “Kay.”

He opened the connection with a tap. “Yeah?”

Storm jerked the phone away from his ear. Ram and Elora could hear Kay yelling from across the booth. “Hold… (pause). Hold… (pause) Hold… (pause) HOLD ON JUST A MINUTE!” I’m putting you on speaker. Ram and Elora are here.”

“Well, hail, hail the gang.”

The three looked at each other. Sarcasm wasn’t Kay’s typical style.

“Look. We’re all in the same boat,” Storm said. “Nobody’s happy about this.”

There was a long pause before Kay said, “What’s the real story? There’s got to be more to this than just report in seven days.” Kay made some sort of indescribable noise. “SEVEN DAYS!!”

“We’re not ALL in the same boat. Ram and Elora have got each other. I can’t bring Katrina to J.U. and you can’t bring Litha either.”

Storm looked around the table. His gaze fell on Elora and stayed there. “That’s partly true. Since Litha’s an employee, she could move in here temporarily if she wanted to, but one thing is for sure. Wherever they are, Trina and Litha are not going onto the patrol schedule.”

Kay’s sigh was long and heavy enough that they heard it over speaker. “Yeah.” He was sounding a little calmer. “That is something on the positive side.” (Pause.) “I’d like to say that Elora is equipped to take care of herself, but we all know that’s not true.”

“Hey!” She jumped in while they chuckled. “Getting hung like meat while biters feast on your naked body and try to drain you isn’t exactly a picnic.” They stared at her without saying anything, each caught in the throes of his own memory. “Well. I guess it is a picnic if you’re vampire.” She smiled, not wanting to remain in that memory a second longer.

“So,” Kay said. “Seven days. You told Litha?”

“I’m not calling from the hospital.”

Kay laughed darkly. “Yeah. She could do it, too. What I’m likely to get out of it is a very sullen, unfun wife and a very dry wick.”

“Hey!” Elora repeated. “Ladies present.”

“Oh?” Kay said. “Who else is there?”

She snorted. Ram grinned. “No’ a problem, lover boy. Just flip the switch in that great room of yours and start the mirrored ball goin’ round. She’s a sucker for your Disco Dino. I give her less than three songs to be callin’ your wick wicked.”

He wiggled eyebrows at Elora when he said the word “wicked”.

“You’re never growing up, are you?” she asked.

“From here it looks like growin’ up is highly overrated,” he said as his hand was slowly creeping up her thigh under cover of the tabletop.

She gave him a receptive smile, but moved his hand away and whispered, “Later,” into the beautiful pointed ear that was closest to her.

Storm abbreviated the events that culminated in the necessity for recall and, after Kay fully understood the gravity of the new developments, he resumed the Kay persona that they knew, loved, and counted on.

“Better get to it. I’ve got a lot of wrapping up to do if I’m going to be there in a week. So what are they saying about how long they’re going to need us?”

The three in the booth looked from one to another and shrugged. “They didn’t say. The new Sovereign…”

“New Sovereign? That’s news you left out. Who and when?”

“Guy who’s been hunting in Brazil for a few years. Seems okay so far. The biggest surprise is that he’s kind of taking to it like a duck to water. I swear you’d think he’d done it before.”

“That’s got to be a load off you and that kid.”

“Seems to me Glen and I just jumped out of the room temperature pan and into the fire. The Sovereign gig comes with headaches and long hours, but at least it’s a desk job.”

“You have a point.”

“Speaking of points, you in shape for hunting? I bet you have a paunch.”

“Yeah? I’ll see you on the mats. ‘Bout a week from now.”

“Count on it.”

Storm looked over at the famous couple across the table. “No point in delaying the inevitable. Better let the better half know what’s up.”

“She’s got to come pick you up anyway. Have her come join us for drinks right now. We’ll all four talk it over together,” Elora said.

“You don’t think that will make her feel like it’s an ambush?”

“I think there’s no good way to say this. I think that if she sees that none of us want this, but that we don’t have any choice, it will go down easier.”

He pulled out the phone and pushed a contact. She answered. “What are you doing?”

“I’m at the Farmers Market. Glen’s coming to dinner. He’s still a growing boy and I want to feed him good stuff.”

Storm grunted at that. “Growing boy, huh? What about me?”

“You’re a boy, but your body has finished growing.”

“Well, can it keep? What you bought? I’m having drinks with Ram and Elora. Something important’s come up and we were thinking you could join us for a little while.”

“What is it?”

“Tell you when you get here?”

There was a pause that made Storm visibly nervous. “Are you in the lounge?”

“Yes. We’re in one of the booths.”

She hung up.

A few minutes later Storm reached for his tumbler and raised it to his lips, but jumped when she appeared next to him.

“Gods Almighty, woman!” He set the glass down and started swiping at the spilled whiskey. He motioned to the bartender and pointed to his shirt. Within seconds he was holding a damp white linen towel.

“’Tis goin’ to take more than that to cover the aroma of that fine whiskey you’re now wearin’.”

Litha wiped Storm down with the damp towel doing a terrible job of hiding the fact that she was amused.

“I ordered you a double foam latte with cinnamon, but it may have cooled off.”

“Not a problem.” She curled her fingers around the mug and four seconds later steam was rising along with an enticing aroma newly refreshed.

As she brought the cup to her lips Storm smiled and shook his head. “Some things you just never get used to.”

She took a sip and moaned approval as her eyes slid closed. When she opened them, she looked around the table. “So what’s up?”

Elora spoke before Storm had finished his internal deliberations on the best way to proceed with breaking the news. “We’ve been recalled to active duty.”

Litha was at full attention instantly. She jerked a big-eyed gaze to Storm. “What does that mean?” she asked him point blank.

“Well…” he started, but Elora beat him to it again.

“It means B Team is back in duty rotation in ten days. All of us. Including Kay.”

Litha cut right through the turbulent emotions circulating around the table. “No,” she pronounced with an emphatic shaking of her wild curls.

“Baby…”

Storm didn’t get far with whatever he was going to say.

“No. And that’s the end of it, buster.”

There was nothing funny about the situation and Storm knew that making light of it wasn’t the best way to handle a worried wife. But she was cute when expressing authority and he couldn’t help but chuckle a little. “Buster?”

Unconsciously he reached over to push a wayward tendril back from her face. She slapped his hand away. “I’m not kidding!” A noticeable flush was creeping into her cheeks. “I have to get dinner started. We’re having company tonight.” She was looking around for her purse.

Storm looked across the table.

“Sorry,” Elora mouthed.

He shrugged. “I’m gonna catch a ride with her.” He looked like a kid on the way to the principal’s office. Ram and Elora nodded silently and sympathetically.

As soon as Storm cleared the booth and stood Litha snapped a purple sheepskin lined handcuff on him and they were gone.

Ram looked at Elora. “So. That turn out like you were thinkin’?”

She gave a little shrug that Ram found charming and feminine, maybe even adorable. Of course he found most things about her charming and feminine. And the rest he found adorable.

“I hoped we could soften the news, but we didn’t really get a chance. I haven’t seen her that upset since…”

As Ram leaned into Elora he caught and held her eyes. “Since her da’ lost him in the passes. That what you were goin’ to say?”

Elora took in a deep breath. “Maybe she hasn’t had enough ‘normal’. It’s always something. A long lost demon dad. Having a baby in record time. Storm being lost. Rosie growing up in a few months. Then leaving. I guess we just witnessed the last straw up close and personal.”

“I would no’ be surprised if she took him straight to some other worldly hideout and left him there where she thinks she can keep him safe, sound and all to herself.”

She looked at Ram with an open mouth. “You’re wearing that you-can’t-tell-what-I’m really-thinking face, but I know you’re joking. Litha isn’t the sort of person to take prisoners. And especially not her husband.”

Ram leaned back and put both arms across the back of the wide booth in a display of masculine territorialism. “If you say so.”

“Besides. Can you see Storm accepting that? Meekly submitting to being a love slave?”

Through the thin fine cotton of Ram’s tee, Elora saw his abs contract with silent laughter. “Love slave is it? ‘Tis a fantasy of yours?” He arched an eyebrow and canted his head to indicate interest in the subject as he brought his face closer. “You been holdin’ out on me? ‘Cause I’m thinkin’ I would go willin’ly and comply eagerly.”

Her lack of rejoinder coupled with the serious expression on her face made him stop teasing and sit up suddenly. He glanced around, leaned into her and dropped his teasing tone about an octave. “Are you entertainin’ an image right this second?”

She looked away, but couldn’t hide a telltale blush.

Ram’s eyes twinkled with wickedness as his smile returned. “You are!” He slid closer and put his mouth next to her ear, grinning. “Tell me.”

“No.” She pushed him away playfully.

“Aye.” He doubled down by drawing a finger up her outer thigh. “Tell me, love. I’ll die if I do no’ know.”

She started laughing. “You will not die, Ram.”

“Oh. I will. I swear.” He said the words into her hair, her ear, and her neck.

“Stop it,” she said giggling. “Drink your whiskey.”

He looked down at the tumbler sitting half full on the table, but it didn’t distract him for long. Within a second he was right back on target, enjoying the game of extracting information from her as much as a hunt.

“The whiskey can wait. What I’m after now is a look inside that beautiful head.”

“Gah. Rammel. Some things are personal. Just mark that door private and move on to something else.”

He sat back. “Private? Personal? These are no’ words I’ll be acceptin’ if there’s somethin’ I could be doin’ to please. Somethin’ that‘s been left undone.”

“You mean you’ve never thought about anything, um, sexual and kept it to yourself? Really?”

The tiniest scowl formed between his eyes. “Considerin’ the inventive nature of our private and personal sex life, I’m a little taken back by the question.”

“Yes, but it’s entirely different when you suggest, uh, things.”

He wasn’t laughing at her exactly, but his amusement was evident. “’Tis only different if you make it so. I see now that I’ve been remiss in no’ pressin’ for your own imaginin’s. There’s no’ a thin’ in this life I want more than to see you pleasured.”

“You do pleasure me, Ram.”

“In every way possible,” he corrected.

Seeing that he was taking the idea seriously and was so sincere, she couldn’t help but smile. He glanced at his watch. “We have eighty-three minutes before we need to gather Helm. Let’s go to our place where I can get you naked and tickle you into revealin’ everythin’ I want to know.”

Unlike men who let the zest for life drain out of them when they become responsible for families, Ram still carried a party with him wherever he went. And that was just one of the things she loved about him.

She cut her eyes toward him and smiled slyly. “Do any of your fantasies involve unpacking moving boxes? Because there’s a lot of that to do.”

He snarled and bit her on the neck so suddenly that she shrieked. Looking around she saw that they’d drawn the attention of the few people in the lounge. “You’re embarrassing me, Ram.” She slapped at him playfully.

“Embarrassed?” Ram looked around the room and chuckled. “Elora, those fuckers are so jealous of me their balls are a semi-permanent shade of ugly cobalt blue.”

She shot him a pretend glare and slid out of the booth.

“What? If you do no’ believe me, pick one out. I’ll take his pants down so you can see.”

“Rammel. Ugh!” And that was the last thing she said before giving him the pleasure of watching her walk away. An activity of which he never tired.

When Rev showed up at the Operations Office at eight, Farnsworth glanced up and then did a double take. He looked freshly showered and enticingly damp. She, on the other hand, felt old, ill-used and in need of a long soak in a hot receptacle with scented bath oils.

She had dismissed the trainee assistants hours earlier so that they could complete their study and elective requirements for the day, which meant she was in the office alone.

Rev nodded at her. “First to arrive, last to leave?”

She smiled in a polite way that didn’t reach her eyes. “Always.” There was a folder sitting on the right side of her desk. She stood, grabbing that and her tablet. “I keep most things in digital form these days, but I printed some reports. I didn’t know if you prefer hard copy.”

Rev shrugged. “It’s easier when you’re reviewing details with a second person. Would you like me to carry it?”

She was so surprised by the question she laughed out loud. “No. I’ve got it. Lead the way.”

Farnsworth’s normal pace was more along the lines of a brisk determined stride, but she consciously decided that, if the new Sovereign thought there was time to stroll, she would follow his lead.

His eyes slid sideways as they ambled toward Mess. “I hope there are lots of pages in there that we both need to see at the same time.” Her brow crinkled momentarily with an unanswered question. “It’ll give me a chance to get close. Smell your perfume.”

He grinned and winked while she practically gaped.

She started to turn into Mess when they reached the doors, but he gently took her elbow and pulled. “We’re over here tonight.”

She kept walking, but took a second look back at the Mess entrance. “Where are we going?”

“I asked Crisp to find us a place where we could have a business dinner with a little more privacy because some of the details we discuss may be sensitive, clearance-wise.”

“Oh.”

“Nice man.” He decided to fill the silence with small talk because he sensed that she was feeling as awkward as if it was a first date, which it was in a sense. She just didn’t know it. “Here we are.”

He opened the door to one of the small rooms off the fountain court and gestured for her to enter. The table was set with forest green linen and fine German china with a Black Swan emblem in the center and the presentation was all the more appealing because of an arrangement of calla lilies and white tapers that had already been lit. A bottle of chardonnay was chilling in a bucket of ice next to the table.

Farnsworth’s eyebrows rose almost to her hairline. “Fresh flowers and candlelight?”

Rev cleared his throat. “Well. Seems Crisp went all out. Very nice, isn’t it? You know how to do things in style at Jefferson Unit.”

He pulled out her chair and waited. When she looked at his face she thought she saw a little uncertainty and a lot of hopeful expectation. She told herself it couldn’t hurt to have their dinner meeting alone.

As she sat she said, “It is very nice, but Crisp must have misunderstood. We’re going to need more light if we’re going to look at reports.” She watched as Rev seated himself, then said pointedly in her most professional tone, “After all, I don’t have twenty-year-old eyes.”

He leaned back in his chair, studying her. “No. What you have is better.”

She sucked in a breath. “Sovereign, if I’ve given you the impression that…”

“I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable and I’m sorry if that’s what’s happening here. Look. I’m new in town,” he smiled, “as you well know. Could we just enjoy a nice dinner, get to know each other a little, and then we’ll dive into the stacks.”

He noticed that her shoulders relaxed. She sat back just enough to cross her legs, which he tried very hard not to notice, then looked over the table. “I do love calla lilies,” she said.

He smiled, but stopped himself from saying, “I know.”

For the next three quarters of an hour the new Sovereign asked the Operations Manager all manner of questions about herself. Whenever she tried to return the favor he neatly steered the conversation back to her. After getting her to reveal that she had been engaged to the former Sovereign and that it had ended tragically, he asked for her insights as to how successfully Jefferson Unit had been operating since then, adding that she – above all others – was in a position to know.

She seemed to open up and lose her reserve when talking about the day to day details of running the New Jersey complex. It was the closest he came to seeing the spark that used to fire in her dark eyes when she was emotional about something and she wasn’t shy about holding his gaze when the subject matter was work.

Rev watched the lady pick at her dessert and cast her gaze around the room. Finally she said what was on her mind. “We need to bring the lights up so we can see the files or else move the meeting someplace more conducive.”

When Farnsworth met his eyes as she waited for his reaction, she thought she saw a touch of sadness, but he covered it quickly with a smile just as Crisp entered and said, “I hope everything was to the lady’s liking, sir.”

Farnsworth thought it was strange that he’d directed that comment to her companion. “I’m right here, Crisp. If you want to know something, just ask me.”

Crisp moved his head in her direction in a gesture that was more a bow than a nod. “Of course, madam. Did you enjoy your dinner?”

“I did, Crisp. Thank you for asking.”

“And will there be anything else?”

“Not for me.”

He turned in Rev’s direction. “And you, sir?”

“More than satisfactory. Will you have this cleared and turn up the lights? Oh and have someone take the flowers to Ms. Farnsworth’s office.” Rev looked in her direction with a twinkle in his eye. “She likes calla lilies.”

“Very good, sir.”

“I’ll have a coffee. You?” he asked Farnsworth. She nodded and Crisp withdrew taking the wine and flowers with him.

A couple of hours later Rev was satisfied that he was fully informed on every conceivable detail of running Jefferson Unit, other than duty assignments for hunters, which was entirely the purview of the Sovereign. Likewise, Farnsworth was fully informed of everything that must be accomplished to bring the facility back from training and research facility to fully staffed hunter unit.

Farnsworth leaned into a stretch of her back and shoulders and couldn’t quite suppress a yawn. When he chuckled at that, she smiled as shyly as a teenager and he thoroughly enjoyed that expression of vulnerability it had taken him hours to win from her.

CHAPTER 10

New York

After the speed dating incident, Mercy had decided it was time for a change. So when she received an invitation to apply for a highly specialized position with a Scotia-based charity organization, she retrieved it from the shredding bin and rethought her initial reaction. She pulled the letter out and reread it thinking that it was not superstitious to believe that opportunity knocks in mysterious ways.

Teaching positions at universities like Columbia didn’t grow on trees. They had to know that she wouldn’t give it up lightly.

She couldn’t imagine why a charity would need an historian/archeologist who specialized in Slavic studies and artifacts, but if the price was right and the work was worthy, it might be fun to earn more than subsistence pay. For a change. And, after all, change was exactly what she’d called to her.

“Be careful what you wish for,” she whispered to herself just before she picked up the phone and made an appointment with a Dr. Monq in New Jersey.

“What!?!”

Mercy jumped at the response coming from inside the door upon which the young escort had just knocked. She turned to the young man with wide eyes, but he just grinned in response. He seemed brave for someone who appeared to be about fifteen years old.

“Don’t let him scare you. He just acts like that. Bark, bark, bark, bark, no bite at all.”

Mercy smiled uncertainly as she watched him knock again.

The door jerked open. “I SAID...!” Seeing the young woman standing there looking unsure of herself, Monq looked at his watch and said, “Oh.” He mumbled something about where time goes. “You must be Dr. Renaux.”

“Yes. If this has turned out to be a bad time…” She was turning away, but he stopped her.

“No. No. I’m always getting lost in my projects. The “zone” as they say. I didn’t mean to be off-putting. Please come in.” He motioned to one of two wingback chairs sitting in front of the fireplace. “Send us some hot water and tea complements, Monty. Would you, please?”

“Yes, sir.”

The young man smiled and winked at her as he turned to go, which she thought required a measure of audacity beyond his years. Mercy sat in the chair that had been pointed out and watched the boy, whose name was apparently Monty, close the door.

“How was the bridge crossing?”

She thought that was odd wording. People didn’t usually make it sound so adventurous or romantic. “Oh. I took the tunnel.”

“Did you? Well, you’re braver than I. Something about an entire ocean of water pressing on the ceiling right above one’s head…“ He shuddered dramatically.

“I understand that reaction isn’t uncommon.” Monq had been scurrying around his office while seeming to chat mindlessly and half-heartedly. “Please forgive me for rushing you, Dr. Monq, but my curiosity really has the best of me. I can’t wait to hear why a charitable organization would be interested in someone with my particular skill set.

“I’m also dying to know why a charity would be located in the middle of a highly restricted military base.”

“Both excellent questions!”

Monq snatched up a file from one of the piles on his massive carved desk, opened it and handed her a document that appeared to be several pages in length.

The title page read, “Vampire skeletons unearthed in Bulgarian monastery.”

She looked up at his face for a clue that it was a joke. When she saw that his expression remained passive and serious, she read it one more time. Despite the fact that Dr. Monq’s face was seriously passive, she laughed. “Bulgarian vampires.”

“Actually that’s vampire.”

“What?”

“Vampire. The plural of vampire is vampire. No cause for self-recrimination. Most people get it wrong.” He glanced down at the memo in front of her. “Read on. Take your time. I’m in no hurry.”

She paused for a couple of beats to search his face then lowered her eyes and began to read the body of the text.

Archaeologists in Bulgaria have unearthed two skeletons from the Middle Ages pierced through the chest with ploughshares, apparently to either keep them from turning into the undead or to keep them firmly in place.

They are the latest in a succession of finds across western and central Europe which shed new light on just how seriously people took the threat of vampires and how those beliefs transformed into the modern myth.

Bulgaria's national history museum chief, Bozhidar Dimitrov, said: 'These two skeletons stabbed with rods illustrate a practice which was common in some Bulgarian villages up until the first decade of the 20th century.'

According to pagan beliefs, people who were considered bad during their lifetimes might turn into vampires after death unless stabbed in the chest with an iron or wooden rod or stake before being buried.

People believed the rod would also pin them down in their graves to prevent them from leaving at midnight and terrorizing the vicinity.

According to Mr Dimitrov, in Bulgaria alone, the corpses of over one hundred buried people were stabbed according to rituals to prevent them from becoming vampires.

Dimitrov: 'Because of the persistence of the folklore surrounding vampires, commoners believed that people who were evil when alive would rise from the dead as vampires and continue to torment the innocent. That is why vampires were so often aristocrats or clerics,’ he laughed.

He added, 'The curious thing is that there are no women among them. They were not afraid of witches.'

However last month Italian researchers discovered what they believed to be the remains of a female 'vampire' in Venice - buried with a brick jammed between her jaws to prevent her feeding on victims of a plague which swept the city in the 16th century.

Matteo Borrini, an anthropologist from the University of Florence, said the discovery on the small island of Lazzaretto Nuovo in the Venice lagoon supported the medieval belief that vampires were behind the spread of plagues like the Black Death.

The skeleton was unearthed in a mass grave from the Venetian plague of 1576 - in which the artist Titian died - on Lazzaretto Nuovo, which lies around two miles northeast of Venice and was used as a sanitarium for plague sufferers.

Borrini said: 'This is the first time that archaeology has succeeded in reconstructing the ritual of exorcism of a vampire.

'This helps ... authenticate how the myth of vampires was born.'

The succession of plagues which ravaged Europe between 1300 and 1700 fostered the belief in vampires, mainly because the decomposition of corpses was not well understood, Borrini said.

The shrouds used to cover the faces of the dead were often decayed by bacteria in the mouth, revealing the corpse's teeth, and vampires became known as 'shroud-eaters.'

According to medieval medical and religious texts, the 'undead' were believed to spread pestilence in order to suck the remaining life from corpses until they acquired the strength to return to the streets again.

'To kill the vampire you had to remove the shroud from its mouth, which was its food like the milk of a child, and put something uneatable in there,' said Borrini.

'It's possible that other corpses have been found with bricks in their mouths, but this is the first time the ritual has been recognized.'

The article was supported with photos of the archeological site. The most interesting, by far, was a detailed close up of one of the skeletons. Dirt and debris had been brushed away, but it was otherwise untouched.

When she had digested the memo, Mercy put it down on the table in front of her. Monq noticed that her hand continued to rest on the paper after she looked up at him.

“Very interesting. Certainly I understand how my specialty might dovetail this discovery. What I don’t understand is why a philanthropic institution might be investigating Dark Age beliefs in vampires,” she caught herself, “um, vampire, and practices of rites of disposition.”

Monq sat back in his chair. “What if I told you that vampire are as real as you and I?”

She didn’t laugh, but did look around the room, almost as if she was scanning for hidden cameras. Perhaps either consciously or subconsciously that’s exactly what she was doing.

“I would say that I have absolutely no reason to believe that might be true.”

“Fair enough. A prudent answer and wise as well. Should I take that to mean that you discount my claim as patently false or that you are reserving judgment?”

She pursed her lips. “If you’re asking if I’m able to keep an open mind, that is the very nature of science, even social sciences such as anthropology. I will proceed with an assumption that vampire stories are myths until I’m persuaded by evidence to the contrary.”

Monq smiled. “What sort of evidence would convince you?”

She cocked her head. “Well, an actual vampire…”

“Are you the sort of person who is self-aware enough to know that you would, in fact, believe your own eyes if you were face to face with a vampire?”

“Look here, Dr. Monq. I’d like to know where this is going.”

“Well, Dr. Renaux, I’m attempting to establish that you will accept the presence of an actual vampire as evidence. Before I go to the trouble of showing you one.”

“Honestly, I don’t know what to say to that.”

“Well, either say, yes, a vampire will convince you or, no, it would take more than that.”

“I will give you a non-prejudicial commitment to believe what I see pending such an event as you producing a vampire. By all means, please proceed.”

Monq glanced at his watch, stood and pulled out his phone. He quickly factored for the time difference and determined that Baka’s team would be going out on patrol.

“Baka. I’m in need of a quick demonstration. Could you please send Javier to my office?” He began to pace. “Yes. I know the last time you sent them here there was the devil to pay for it, but this time he is not only expected, but invited. I only need him for a minute to convince a young lady that vampire do exist. Please make sure he understands it is not an invitation to the, uh, dance.” He looked over at Mercy. “Yes. I got it. As a matter of fact, this has to do with that.” Pause. “Good.”

He put the phone back in his pocket, sat down, and began drumming his fingers on the table lightly.

Mercy stared at Monq, hoping he would take the hint that she was expecting him to speak. When it became clear that he had nothing to say, she decided to take control of the conversation. “I don’t mean to seem impatient, but what are we doing now? Waiting for a vampire to appear out of thin air?”

Just as Monq opened his mouth to answer, Javier appeared next to them, out of thin air, with a charming smile and an enthusiastic, “Salut!”

Mercy shrieked and scrambled backward with the intention of standing, but lost control of the wheels on her chair. She came to rest on the floor looking up at a handsome teenager.

Javier leaned down and offered his hand to help her up. “Sorry, mademoiselle,” he said with a heavy, and unmistakably sexy, French accent. “I am clumsy. Please do not allow me to also be rude.”

He offered his hand, which looked perfectly innocent, and smiled. When Mercy’s heart rate and breathing began to resume normalcy, she reached to take his hand. As he helped her up he never broke eye contact. She was halfway up when he grinned, showing sparkling white fangs with points that looked as sharp as ice picks. She shrieked, for the second time in her life. Prior to that interview she wouldn’t have been able to describe exactly what a shriek was or how one sounded. Out of reflex she brought her hands up and pushed away from Javier, which meant that she’d landed on her ass, on the floor, twice in under a minute.

She heard Monq chuckle, which was a gift because it made her mad. And anger replacing fear was a good thing. Her head whipped toward the sound of mirth. “What exactly is so funny?”

“I hope you’ll forgive me. Someday. It’s just that you were so well put together, in every way, and then you were on the floor making that noise that, well, I’m not sure what that was.” He dropped his head in an effort to suppress more chuckles.

She got to her feet and glared at Javier. “So you’re supposed to be the vampire, are you?” Javier simply smiled and shrugged a shoulder as elegantly as a Bolshoi dancer. “Open your mouth.”

Javier looked at Monq, seemingly for confirmation that he should obey the highly strung female. Monq nodded.

Mercy tilted Javier’s head back and felt all around the gum from which his left fang protruded. Javier looked at Monq questioningly as if to ask him to put a stop to the examination. When she was satisfied that the fangs were not surgical implants, she withdrew her hand, but scraped it on the way by. The fangs were every bit as sharp as they appeared to be.

She saw a thin line of blood begin to well from the scratch. “Ouch. How do you manage to not constantly be cutting yourself open?”

Mercy looked up for Javier’s response, but what she saw stopped her breath. The vampire’s interest was rapt and focused on her wound. His eyes had also gone dark and hooded, while his breathing became deeper and faster. She wasn’t big on expletives, but that didn’t keep one word from echoing around the space her brain occupied. Shit.

“Let’s assume I believe you.”

“Are you sure you don’t want a more personal demonstration? Javier would be happy to show you that he can bite without pain and without much damage.”

“The demo was bloody convincing, I assure you.”

Monq laughed. “Bloody convincing. I like your sense of humor, Dr. Renaux.” To Javier, he said, “Thank you for your help. That will be all.”

Javier seemed mesmerized by the blood. He didn’t move or look away from Mercy and had Monq thinking that he should have asked for the older vampire, Jean-Etienne. “Javier!”

Javier grabbed her finger, stuck it in his mouth and closed his eyes in ecstasy.

“She said no, Javier. Cease that sucking at once!”

Javier slid his tongue along the finger that Mercy was too spellbound to retract while holding her gaze and said, “Your coloring is magnifique, mademoiselle. It reminds me of autumn in Paris. Your ancestors were from Normandie, no?”

“Thank you, Javier. That will be all,” Monq repeated more firmly.

Javier dragged his eyes away from his prey reluctantly and shot Monq a look that gave him pause. It was a look that implied, “Just because I look like an adolescent human doesn’t mean that I am one. Just because I’m typically affable doesn’t mean that’s my only side. So watch yourself, mortal.”

The vampire kissed Mercy’s hand, his eyes not leaving hers. “Should you ever require my company, I will be at your service, beautiful lady.”

Throwing a last look of longing toward Mercy, the young immortal vanished.

She stared at the space he’d occupied for a full minute after he’d disappeared before shaking herself and saying, “Geez. What would have happened if I’d said yes to the expanded demo? Never mind. I don’t really want an image of that. I actually couldn’t look away. ” She shook her head. “Worse. I didn’t want to look away. All I can say is, wow.”

“They are, apparently, made for seduction and, I’ve been told, they can be quite difficult to resist.” Monq waved toward the chairs in front of the fire. “Please sit.”

Monq asked for a fresh pot of Earl Grey, took his seat and waited for Mercy to calm. Within the hour he was telling the story of Count Jungbluth, Dankvart der Recke, and the founding of Black Swan.

Sitting in Monq’s study on a rainy afternoon, sipping tea with a heavy and heavenly aroma of bergamot, in front of a realistic-looking gas fire, she fell under the spell of Monq’s baritone and was enthralled by the recitation of Black Swan’s beginning. When he finished, she sat still and quiet for some time longer, wishing there was more and not wanting the experience to end. Monq sat watching, patiently waiting for her reaction.

Finally she said, “I have a question that’s really neither here nor there, but if you wouldn’t mind indulging me.”

“Of course.”

“Do you know of someone named Rafael Nightsong?”

Acting was not on Monq’s incredibly long list of impressive accomplishments so Mercy noticed the slight widening of his eyes at the mention of the knight’s name.

“I must amend my response. What I meant to say was of course I will answer any and all of your questions after you have accepted our offer and given your vows of loyalty and secrecy.”

Mercy leaned over and placed her Rosenthal tea cup on the table nearest her right hand before looking back at Monq.

“I agree to the assignment and to your terms. I also give you my pledge of loyalty and secrecy. When do you want me to begin?”

“Welcome to The Order of the Black Swan, my dear. We’re honored to have you with us. Normally vows of loyalty and secrecy are made formally with witnesses and signatures, but I have a good feeling about your sincerity.

“As to when we would like you to begin,” he looked at his watch, “eighteen hours ago.”

Mercy felt the laugh bubbling up. It was out before she knew it. “I don’t mean to be disrespectful, Dr. Monq, but people are counting on me to fulfill previously made commitments to the university.”

“Yes, well, please forgive me for saying so. Likewise, I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but the interests of The Order of the Black Swan are more important and you’re the right person for this job.” She opened her mouth to protest, but he held up a hand to stop her. “Do you know Dr. Fornizia? Universidad de Sao Paulo?”

Mercy sat back looking a little confused, but willing, for the moment, to indulge Monq by letting him lead the conversation in what would seem to be a strange and unrelated direction. “In my field, I would have had to be spending the last ten years in a hermit cave to not have heard of him. Why?”

“He’s prepared to move his projects to Columbia and take over your classes and other duties until such time as you may wish to return.”

She couldn’t have been more astonished if she’d been instantly transported to the Congo and met by Dr. Livingstone. “When?”

“Immediately.”

“What makes you think that will be cleared with the school?”

Monq laughed and waved dismissively. “Not a problem. We have ways.”

She mulled it over while studying Monq’s face. Would she ever forgive herself if she passed up what seemed to be the offer of an adventure of a lifetime? The answer was no. She wouldn’t.

“Okay then.”

Monq smiled and rubbed his hands together. “Okay then. Go home and pack as if you were vacationing and spelunking in Eastern Europe. Gather the research tools of your preference. Anything you need and don’t own personally can be expensed.”

“Anything?”

He nodded. “Anything.” He started to stand and show her the door.

“Wait a minute.” He sat back down. “Rafael Nightsong?”

“Oh, yes. Indeed I do know him.”

She searched Monq’s face. “He’s a vampire hunter, isn’t he?”

Monq cocked his head. “He told you that?”

“I met him under, um, unusual circumstances. He didn’t think he’d be believed. And he wasn’t.”

“I see.” Monq sounded concerned.

“By the way, did anything unusual happen on March 2nd? Anything that would cause Mr. Nightsong to look like he had barely survived Armageddon?”

“Sir Nightsong.” She raised an eyebrow at that. “March 2nd? Not precisely, but the night before this entire building was under attack and was practically reduced to rubble.” She nodded, looking thoughtful. “I take it that, when you met him, he looked the worse for wear?”

“That’s putting it mildly, but yes.”

“We will send someone to pick you up day after tomorrow at 7 am.” He scrabbled through the pile system on his desk until he withdrew a card. “If you need anything between now and then, contact Ms. Farnsworth in Operations. Her title should be Miracle Worker.” He turned abruptly and picked up a little parchment-colored book. “And read this.”

“All right.”

She looked down. Field Training Guide. Opening to the first page, she read the first indexed item out loud. “The plural of vampire is vampire.” She looked up at Monq. “Really?”

He smiled and opened the door for her. “Welcome home, Alice.”

Monty was waiting for her in the hallway.

“Dr. Renaux,” he said as he gestured for her to walk with him. He escorted her all the way to her car and never said a single word, but when she unlocked the car door, he opened it for her and grinned. As she drove away she looked in the rear view mirror and saw the kid wave goodbye. Weird.

On the drive back to the city her thoughts turned to the beautiful and angry speed dater. Crossing the bridge she was thinking that the asshole had turned out to be a truthful asshole. It just proved that there was one universal constant that could be counted on and that was that life was strange. Good luck with ever getting her to call him “Sir” though.

CHAPTER 11

Jefferson Unit

As the migration back to Jefferson Unit began, even Rev was constantly amazed at Farnsworth’s seemingly superhuman ability to anticipate every need. When she was presented with surprises she couldn’t possibly have planned for, she managed to pull a Plan B out of her invisible magic hat. And so far as Rev could determine, if Plan A didn’t work out, you could bet your last dime that Plan B would.

Part of that genius was knowing her own limitations. When she knew she couldn’t do it all, she requisitioned an assistant. Director Tvelgar flew three candidates to J.U. for Farnsworth to interview. She awarded the position to a young Frenchwoman from the Le Triomphe Unite in Paris. Mademoiselle Bonheur was both smart enough to recognize the opportunity and ambitious enough to take advantage of it, which meant she was eager to learn from Farnsworth and had no trouble whatsoever with deference.

The size of the Operations Department had always been just barely big enough to function and that was only because Farnsworth was masterful at keeping an organized, uncluttered space. So Farnsworth confiscated a storage room next door and had the stored items taken to the unused space from where Kellan Chorzak had announced the Battle for Jefferson Unit during a raid by assassins. She felt safe in assuming that lightning wouldn’t strike the same spot twice.

She pulled workmen away from other projects in progress and gave them a maximum of three days to complete her changes. Knowing that she was in charge of scheduling, they had powerful motivation to please her.

They hung a plastic curtain before they began tearing out the wall, but there was nothing to block the noise. And work had to go on. The good news was that they finished ahead of schedule. The trainees who worked part time helped moved everything according to Farnsworth’s direction and a reconceived Operations Department was ready for business. She and Mlle. Bonheur both had desks that were counter height, built adjacent to the counter that separated Operations from walk-ins. They sat in ergonomic chairs as high as stools unless someone stood on the other side of the counter in which case they would stand and face the visitor.

One thing Farnsworth had not counted on was how different the environment would feel with additional estrogen present or how taken the boys would be with Genevieve Bonheur, the new Assistant to the Chief of Operations. After the third kid stood star struck upon seeing her for the first time, Farnsworth took a good look. The younger woman had a tight petite little body, big caramel-colored eyes, shiny mahogany hair cut into a chic Parisian bob and a ready smile.

Everyone soon learned that the smile was quickly replaced with spitfire when her name was mispronounced. If one of the knights or other personnel called her Genevieve with typical English pronunciation, she would grab her triangular name plaque from the counter and point to her name, saying, “Zhawn. Vee. Ehv,” slowly followed with, “Zhawnveyev,” spoken quickly. When the employee requiring assistance repeated it back correctly, her smile returned and all was well.

Thus it went until the day that Kristoph Falcon walked in to relay a request from the Lady Laiken. Mlle. Bonheur quickly slid off her chair to help the cutie that seemed to have ‘trouble’ written across his forehead with invisible ink.

“May I help you?” she asked with a French accent that the men seemed to find hypnotizing.

Kris stared for a second before glancing down at her name plate. “You’re new, um, Genevieve?”

He was captivated by the transformation. Her face scrunched into the cutest scowl he’d ever seen. “No!” She went through her routine, holding up the name plate as if to say, “You idiot. Anyone can plainly see it is Zhawnveyev and not Jinaveev.”

With a sober expression that would challenge a judge, he repeated, “Jinaveev.”

After three such exchanges, she stomped her foot, which made the cute haircut bounce in a delightfully young and athletic way. She took a deep breath and determined to try one more time.

On the outside Kris appeared to be seriously trying to get it right. On the inside he was sure he had never been so entertained before in his life. On his fourth attempt, he caught and held her gaze and said, “Jin. Ah. Veev.”

She took the triangular name plate that she still held in her hand and cracked him on the head with it as she let out a stream of French that had the unmistakable tone and cadence of cursing, recognizable in any language. As soon as she realized what she’d done, she gasped and swung to look at Farnsworth with her face growing paler by the second.

“Ow,” said Kris, rubbing his head and laughing at the same time.

Farnsworth, who had observed the entire incident while pretending to be otherwise occupied, was exercising all the maturity she could muster to keep from rolling her eyes. Finally she interceded with an unmistakable tone of warning, “Falcon.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He looked at Farnsworth momentarily attempting to cover the sheepishness vying to claim his expression.

Kris returned his attention to Mlle. Bonheur and treated her to a rare smile that was nothing less than dazzling. In perfect French, he said, “Mademoiselle Genevieve Bonheur, welcome to Jefferson Unit. I hope you will be happy here.”

Her eyes narrowed when she realized he’d been toying with her. “Chieur.”

He laughed, “I know what that means.” He turned to Farnsworth in mock outrage. “Do you know what she just called me?”

Farnsworth sighed. “State your business, Falcon. The playroom is Sublevel Three.”

“Yes, ma’am. Lady Laiken says we need enough exoarmor and helmets so that, in the event of attack on the facility, every person who might be called upon to defend would be outfitted. She said to tell you that includes all the trainees and some of the satellite staff who’ve had combat training.”

Farnsworth nodded. “Tell her it shall be done.”

Falcon’s eyes twinkled. “Shall it be written as well?”

“What?”

“You know. Let it be written, let it be… Never mind. I’ll tell her. Thank you.”

“Falcon.”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“When the unit was attacked, weren’t you one of the ones who was left without protective gear?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He glanced at Genevieve compulsively hoping that she might be impressed, but her smug haughty expression hadn’t changed even a little. He thought she was good for another reaction so he put his hand over his heart and blew her a kiss on his way out. As expected, her face went slack with surprise.

Kristoph Falcon walked away from Operations chuckling, his mood especially light considering how seldom he found things amusing.

As more and more newly transferred J.U. personnel reported for duty, Rev had enough knights on hand to get a rotation schedule underway. That was, after all, the business of the Hunter Division. With so much going on he found lots of excuses to stop by Operations and flirt with Farnsworth.

He began keeping a personal-best score of how many times he could make her blush per visit. The young assistant, Zhawnveyev, loved to see him coming. She’d become his biggest supporter, playing the role of silent cheerleader on the sidelines of the game he played with Farnsworth. When his efforts at being charming or seductively suggestive met with her approval, she would smile and nod. She was like a human date-o-meter.

Rev never failed to ask Farnsworth to go out with him, even if he was there six times in a work day. And she never failed to turn him down. Until she didn’t. Unbeknownst to the Sovereign, Genevieve had been acting as more than a silent ally. Every time Rev left she found another way to respectfully phrase the idea that she thought Farnsworth would be crazy to continue being hard to get or that she thought they made a perfect couple.

“You work so hard. What is the trouble with having some pleasure in life as well? Few men would ever work so hard for the attentions of a woman in this century, especially when they are so charming and lovely as the Sovereign.”

“He’s too young.” Farnsworth almost always responded with some variation on that theme.

“Pish. Pish. Pish. Ridiculous. In France such a thing would never stand in the way of love.”

“Love!?! I think you’re carried away.”

“It is not I who is carried away. He has his heart set on you. Can you not see this?”

“Genevieve, we have work to do. Don’t make me use the boss card.”

With that, or something like it, the issue would be set aside until the Sovereign’s next visit, which would usually be within two hours.

Then one day he didn’t come in at all. Genevieve noticed Farnsworth looking at the doorway and knew she was wondering if she’d rejected his pursuit one too many times.

He was absent the following morning and early afternoon. It was then that Genevieve delivered, or perhaps detonated, a perfectly timed question.

“I see now that Sovereign Farthing is wasting his time. Since you are so clearly not interested, then perhaps you wouldn’t mind if I try to ease his heartache.”

Genevieve controlled her features so that she looked as innocent as a lamb, but on the inside, when she saw the look on Farnsworth’s face, she was wearing a triumphantly wicked grin.

At two o’clock Rev came through the door with an armful of calla lilies and a big smile.

Farnsworth accepted the flowers. When he looked at Genevieve, she smiled and nodded. “You said you like these?”

“I do. They’re my favorite.”

“I believe you, but it seems odd.”

“Why?”

“Because they’re beautiful, but colorless and you’re so… you know, colorful?”

“You think I’m colorful?” Farnsworth was a little taken aback because that would probably have been the last adjective she would have used to describe herself. Genevieve was beaming, thinking the man should have been French.

“Well, yeah. You don’t think so?” Her answer was to blush and bury her nose in the blooms. “I have to get back. Sifting through the reports of what’s happening in the field.”

“Oh.”

Did she sound disappointed? He thought she might have at first, but decided it was wishful thinking.

“So. See you soon?” He started to turn and leave.

“Wait!” She blushed again thinking that might have sounded just a little too forceful. Rev turned around and stepped back up to the counter. She dropped her eyes. “Don’t you have something else to, ah, ask me?”

He looked momentarily confused, but any spectator could have easily read the emotions on his face, which softened when he realized what she was implying. He leaned closer and lowered his voice to a level of greater intimacy. “Will you go out with me?”

“Yes.” Not the least hesitation or timidity. It was emphatic and it was assent.

Genevieve clapped her hands and shrieked quietly. Rev wouldn’t have thought that possible, but she was French.

“Tonight?” Farnsworth looked discombobulated. It was evident her mind was racing around and jumping through work hoops, clothing hoops, hair and makeup hoops. “Tomorrow night.” She smiled, looking pleased and shy.

“Meet me at the Whisterpad at eight and wear something red.”

She looked terrified, but Genevieve interceded. “Tee shirt red? Or sexy with high heels red?”

Rev grinned and looked back at Farnsworth. “Sexy yes. High heels? Probably not. We may walk a little.”

If he’d known that his comments would send his Operations Manager into an afternoon-long tailspin of how one might go about looking sexy in low heeled shoes, he would have taken it all back and said jeans and sneakers.

After he left, Genevieve said, “Do you have something red?”

“Oh. Yes. Sol liked to see me in red.”

“Then they are alike in this way. Yes?”

Come to think of it, Farnsworth realized that Rev and Sol were alike in a lot of ways. She had the brief thought that perhaps she was a magnet to men who were predisposed to be Jefferson Unit Sovereigns, but she dismissed it as quickly as it flew by.

In the end Genevieve came up with a perfect solution. She loaned Farnsworth a designer bag big enough to hold a pair of shoes so that she could switch from heels to flats when necessary.

That was the moment when Farnsworth predicted a long and illustrious career in problem-solving for her talented assistant.

The construction underway to reconfigure parts of the facility was being supervised by Operations, of course, and that was one of the main reasons why Farnsworth had needed to take on an assistant.

It was a new chapter in the history of Jefferson Unit. There would be more active hunters in residence than ever before and there were additional housing issues such as the marital status of recalled knights. Those who were married to other employees of The Order were to be allowed family quarters, which were slightly bigger. There weren’t many of those, but enough so that it presented a planning consideration.

Ram and Elora already occupied an apartment big enough for themselves, a child and a very large dog. Elsbeth and Sir Fennimore were getting married and three other knights qualified if they so desired.

Fennimore had taken his physical therapy seriously. Between that and the constant hands on care and encouragement of his wife-to-be, he was out of the wheelchair, walking with a cane and telling everyone he’d be ready for rotation in a few days. When people smiled, it wasn’t an indulgence. They gave him an odds-on chance of doing whatever he claimed.

Of the other two, one hunter was married to a surgeon – always a welcome addition to an active hunter unit. The other was married to a scientist whom Director Tvelgar arranged to have transferred to Monq’s research unit.

All was handled with relative ease. A little paperwork. A little shuffling. The last couple to be granted married quarters, however, was a surprise.

Reports from the field after the first night of resumed patrol were alarming. The hunters described a situation that was everyone’s worst fear. The vampire population had rebounded fast. Whereas they used to spot one or two a month, the teams who went out that first night reported visuals on more than they could chase down.

They were going to have to put on hip boots, wade in, and get the numbers trimmed down quickly or it was going to get exponentially worse.

The next day after the Sovereigns all over the globe began sharing initial data, Baka walked into Jefferson Unit, took the elevator down to Sublevel 2 and knocked on Rev’s door. When Rev looked up and saw who was standing in the outer office, he was sure that his knee jerk reaction gave him away. Whereas Farthing had never met Baka, Sol had known him better than most.

Rev forced his features to appear neutral as he rose to greet the visitor.

Baka extended his hand. “Istvan Baka.”

“Baka? I’ve heard of you.”

Baka replied with a small smile. “No doubt.”

Rev gestured to a chair facing his desk. “Tell me something truthfully.”

“Ask,” Baka said as he moved toward the chair.

“Before I sit down and get comfortable, do I need to keep a stake in my hand? I’ll hide it under the table for political correctness of course.”

Baka raised an eyebrow. “Funny. I wasn’t expecting you to be entertaining. The guy who sat in that chair before you was the antithesis of that.”

Rev instantly stiffened, feeling defensive about the reputation of his former self. “What do you mean? I’d been led to believe he was a stand-up guy.”

“Oh he was,” Baka rushed to say, “in every sense of the phrase. He was also serious as a DOA pronouncement.”

Rev frowned at that, but supposed the vampire was telling the truth.

“Yes, well, a little levity never hurts.”

“I’m a believer.”

“So what can I do for you?”

“I’ve seen the early reports, most of them. New York seems to be hardest hit by the resurgence of the virus.”

Rev pursed his lips and steepled his fingers. “Initial assessments point toward that conclusion.”

“I’d like to be stationed where I can do the most good. That seems to be here.” Baka waited for a reaction before continuing, but Rev said nothing. “If you agree, my wife would be coming with me. She’s been working in the field as part of my team. I don’t know if you’re aware of her, ah, our history, but she has some unique gifts.”

“I am aware that your wife would be an asset to any operation lucky enough to get her. We’ll take her. You stay in Paris where you can do the most good.”

Rev said it with a perfectly deadpan inflection and had to admit he thoroughly enjoyed the look on Baka’s face when the vampire apparently thought he was serious.

“I… I…”

The Sovereign decided to let him off the hot seat and released him with a chuckle. “The look on your face was priceless, vampire.”

Baka caught on at the first hint of humor and started nodding as if to say, “You got me.”

“Joking aside, is that the only reason why you’re asking for a transfer to J.U.?”

Baka stared at him for a few beats. “Probably not. My friends are here. And if it’s all the same to you, please don’t call me vampire.”

“When did you get to be a sensitive fella?”

“What makes you think I wasn’t always a sensitive fella?”

Rev locked eyes with Baka for a second. “Exactly right. Why would I think otherwise? Just out of curiosity, are you dispersing the rest of your team?”

“You mean…?”

“Animal House.”

Baka winced a little at the tag. He knew the kids could be unruly, but for months he’d worked with them on a nightly basis and was acutely aware that they were volunteering their services for free with no motivation other than a little guidance on honor and responsibility from Jean Etienne. He thought they’d outlived the Animal House thing. Or should have.

On the other hand he questioned why he was being resentful and defensive on their behalf. They didn’t care what they were called. All they truly cared about was blood and “femmes”, particularly when those two things came as a package.

If they had truly understood the multilayered implication of the nickname, they would probably laugh and demand to be called Animal House.

“Well, they agreed to help when the circumstances were considerably different. Factors have changed, as you’re aware. To say that the mutation is a game changer is an understatement.”

“Go on.”

“They’ve agreed to continue to help, but want more flexibility.”

“What does that mean?”

“They, um, want to set their own hours.”

“I see. That may present some problems for whichever Sovereign ends up trying to keep them reined in.”

“Well…” Baka looked unsure how to proceed.

“Well what?”

“I was hoping you might want to be the Sovereign with the problem of keeping them reined in.”

Again, Rev found himself staring at Baka while he thought through all the potential ramifications. “Traveling with a circus, are you?”

“That’s one way to put it. It may seem like a motley crew of mixed species and abilities, but the bottom line is that we’re vampire hunters.”

He took a good long look at Baka as he sifted through Sol’s memories. It was definitely not the same Baka that Sol had dealt with. For one thing, he didn’t have that creepy amused look about him, like he knew a secret that he wasn’t sharing. Trying to talk to a vampire who looks like he knows something you don’t makes for high blood pressure and uncomfortable squirmage in one’s chair.

Rev sucked in a big breath and let out a long sigh. “That’s the hook all right. Hard to turn down. Even if I wanted to.” He shook his head. “So we would need married housing for you and…”

“Heaven.”

“Yes, Heaven. Nice name. And the crazy kids?”

“They don’t really require living arrangements.”

“Well, that’s a definite plus in their column.”

Baka smiled and looked hopeful. “Is that a yes?”

Rev seemed distracted, like he was juggling too many things at once. “How did you get here, by the way?”

“Hitched a ride on a company plane. I’m afraid there may not be enough residual trace of immortality to keep me alive in the passes, according to Jean Etienne’s speculation. And my wife isn’t willing to chance it. So I fly the old-fashioned way. In a jet.”

“Yeah. Monq is still working on the idea for separating a person’s particles, transporting them elsewhere, and reassembling them on arrival. If you think traveling the passes comes with risk, just imagine that!” Rev shook his head. “Are you spending the night then?”

“Yes.” Rev turned away and seemed to become immediately engrossed in something on his monitor. “Sovereign Farthing?”

“Hmmm?”

“When do you think I might expect an answer regarding my request for transfer?’

Baka could read every emotion that passed over the Sovereign’s face – something that never could have been said about Solomon Nememiah. In rapid succession he watched surprise become confusion. That quickly changed to understanding and resolved in a slight embarrassment.

Rev stood up and extended his hand. “Welcome to Jefferson Unit, vam… uh, Baka. We’re glad to have you and your crew.”

CHAPTER 12

Farnsworth was so unaccustomed to getting calls on her personal phone that it took her a minute to identify the odd buzzing as her phone vibrating on her desk. Looking at the face, she saw that it was a text from Farthing.

I understand it could have gone either way at this time of year, but it seems the weatherman says cold. So bring your coat. And hat. And mittens.

She laughed at the last thing and repeated, “Mittens,” under her breath.

“Hmmm? You said something?” Actually it sounded more like sumzing when Genevieve said it.

Farnsworth looked up and blushed like she’d been caught doing something untoward. “Um, well, Sovereign Farthing texted to say I should bring a hat and mittens because it will be cold tonight. For our date.”

Genevieve blinked. “And this makes you blush? What is it about hats and coats and the mittens that makes you blush?” She smiled. “Oh. You are planning to make love wearing just hats and mittens?” She said it as offhandedly as if she was asking if they were having Italian or seafood for dinner.

“You say these things to embarrass me, don’t you?” Farnsworth’s face had gone bright red.

Genevieve blinked. “Embarrass? No.” She shook her head like the idea of deliberately setting out to cause her boss embarrassment was unthinkable.

Farnsworth took a deep breath. “I just have to remember you’re French and look at things differently. I just thought it was sort of, I don’t know, endearing. Nurturing. That he thought about me being cold.”

“But of course. He likes you very much.”

When Farnsworth arrived at the Whister pad, she was wearing a red dress, a long but stylish wool coat, and she was carrying a large outrageously expensive bag that contained slip on sneakers, a hat that wouldn’t ruin her hair for days, and a pair of extravagant red leather gloves with faux Canadian fox fur trim. When she stepped off the elevator she found a date waiting with a smile that lit her up like a shot of bourbon.

The Whister dropped them at The Order’s 63rd Street location, which was just four blocks from the newly reopened Café Des Artistes, close enough to walk. When they arrived, Rev leaned over and said something inaudible to the maître d, who responded with a smile and a nod. They were seated in a back corner booth. It was the sort of place where wait staff knew not to interrupt a sentence in progress, to be present when needed without hovering when unwanted. Quiet and elegant for fine dining with anyone. Romantic and seductive when with the right person.

Dinner was one of those two and a half hour experiences that would be remembered when all the ordinary nights of ordinary meals were long forgotten.

Farnsworth had spent the past twenty-four hours vacillating between cancelling and not. On the one hand she thought there couldn’t be much harm in going, unless you considered that a date gone wrong with your Unit Sovereign could be big trouble. On the other hand, she felt guilty about being attracted to the young knight recently turned administrator. She thought it was much too soon after Sol’s death to be even mildly interested in someone, particularly not someone so junior.

Mixed into that muddle was a constant second guessing of her attractiveness. A little voice of ugly judgment kept prodding, asking, “Why would such a catch be interested in an old, well, at least older woman?”

The fact was that Rev was easy to be with. His company required no effort. It simply felt right. After dessert and coffee, he said, “I’m stuffed. How about you?”

“Overstuffed.”

“What do you think about walking around for a little while? Did you bring some other shoes? Not that those aren’t nice. Because they are. “

She chuckled. “All is well. My shoes take no offense. And, yes, I did bring other footwear. Per instructions. Meet you at coat check.”

“Deal.”

Stepping out onto the sidewalk, the crisp air felt good. As they started away she was still buttoning up and pulling on her gloves. While so engaged, Rev waved a cab over and opened the door for her.

When they were inside, he said, “Bergdorf Goodman,” to the taxi driver.

Farnsworth smiled and looked intrigued. “We’re going shopping?”

He was instantly aware that they’d never been so close together. Not since he’d been reborn. The close quarters of the taxi’s back seat seemed awash with a potent intimacy that was theirs and theirs alone. Even if there was a Somalian cab driver singing along to Frank Sinatra music. Off key.

Rev’s face was so close to hers when he turned to answer the question that he forgot the question. In fact he forgot everything except how beautiful she was in red and that included the red lipstick that he couldn’t seem to look away from.

“Hello?”

He jerked his gaze up to her eyes. “What?”

She laughed. “I said, ‘Are we going shopping?’”

“No. It’s the starting point on our route.”

“We have a route?”

“Yes, ma’am, we do. And we are there.” The cab stopped at the curb.

While Rev paid the driver, Farnsworth strolled a few feet toward the display windows to see what high end buyers thought about clothes for summer. Not that she valued their opinion. For the most part she thought they were certifiably insane. But there weren’t many places that decked out windows anymore. So why not experience the show?

Rev came up behind her. “You like that?”

“Good gods no. Wouldn’t be caught dead in it.”

One of the pedestrians on the sidewalk overheard her and sniggered. Seemed she wasn’t the only one who questioned the good sense of people who would spend actual money on those clothes.

She leaned over to Rev and said in a low conspiratorial tone, “And especially not at fifteen hundred dollars for a little short sleeved knit sweater. For that it had better have actual gold thread in the weave.”

They started strolling. “So what do you spend your money on?”

“My millions?”

He laughed. “Given what I already know about you I wouldn’t be that surprised if you hadn’t been mastering stock market manipulation in your spare time between one and two in the morning.”

She gave him an odd look.

“What?”

She shook her head a little. “Nothing. It’s just… That was a really nice compliment.”

He stopped and turned toward her with a smile. “Finally. A compliment you’re happy to accept. So do I get a thank you or a kiss? Or a kiss and a thank you?”

“Thank you, Sovereign Farthing.”

Before she knew what was coming next, he’d taken her face between his hands and placed a slow, sincere and deliciously promising kiss on her mouth.

“Thank you, Operations Manager Farnsworth. Can I call you Susan yet?”

She was so stunned by the suddenness of the move and the burn of the kiss that all she could do was concentrate on not reaching up to touch her lips. When she didn’t respond, he took her arm and wrapped it under and over the crook of his so that she’d have to walk close.

“Come on. Let’s go see what there is to see.”

It was out of his mouth before he knew it. He looked at her to see if that would raise an alarm. After all she was the one who had taught him that expression. He reminded himself to be more careful. He couldn’t behave as if he was promenading with the love of his life, who had promised to be his wife. He had to behave as if it was a first date.

After a few feet she seemed to come back to life and began pointing out this thing or that about sights or people. Abruptly she glanced his way with a grin and said, “This is fun. Do you bring all your dates on a walk down Fifth Avenue?”

“As you well know, I’m new in town, but even if I wasn’t, the answer would be no because I don’t go on dates.” At first she laughed, but his expression said he wasn’t kidding. “I asked somebody who has a reputation for being good with girls what sort of thing would be fun and maybe impress you? He gave me this idea.” Something about the fact that he’d wanted to impress her made her stomach do a little jig. “Is it working?”

“Yes. Like I told you. It’s fun!”

“And are you impressed?”

She stopped walking which caused a crowd of pedestrians to part and walk around. “Why do you want to impress me? No. Strike that. Just make it simple. Why me?”

He put his arm around her waist and pulled her to the side next to a building. “Why would you question how special you are? You think there are a lot of women like you?”

“Well. Yes.”

“Well, you’d be very, very wrong then.” He pulled her close and kissed her again, then straightened and looked around. “Come on.”

He pulled her around the corner and started heading for a building that was displaying the telltale awning and flags of an uptown hotel. She kept waiting for the voice of the proper mature woman to make it out of her throat, but she was silent. Silent. Excited and thinking, Oh my gods. What in the abyss am I doing?

A question sat on the tip of her tongue, “Did you plan this?”, but she didn’t ask it. She knew he hadn’t. She could tell by the way he’d scanned the surroundings. It was a purely spontaneous response to a breathless kiss, the sampling of which, apparently, made him want more.

He wasn’t alone in that. Her body was crazy for the guy and responding to him like a rare Stradivarius violin responds to the touch of a virtuoso.

He had an iron grip on her as they maneuvered the revolving door, like he thought she might bolt if he loosened his grip, but it wasn’t fear that made him hold on tight. It was anticipation. And arousal. He rushed them toward the desk.

“We’d like a room. “

The desk clerk smiled and glanced at Farnsworth. He couldn’t read anything from the bloom in her cheeks because of the chilly breeze that was whipping around Manhattan that night, but the shine in her eyes was a giveaway that he needed to check them in quickly and efficiently. He didn’t ask about luggage, which desk clerks do sometimes just for the fun of it. He didn’t ask if they wanted two beds. He made a point of saying that service of a limited menu and beverages, including wine, was still available, to which Rev replied, “Please send up a nice merlot.”

“Very good, sir.”

Rev took the key and began guiding Farnsworth away from the desk. They rounded the end of the long marble counter and turned left, as directed by the desk clerk. He was trying to appear completely controlled and not scare her by walking too fast, but his body was saying he’d better run. On the ride up to the room Rev was hyperaware that she was gripping the lapels of her coat tightly and holding the edges together as if she was afraid she might be asked to remove outer wear at some point.

His mind understood that she thought they were strangers, but his heart and his body believed they were lovers who’d been separated far too long. The charade was cruel to both of them, but necessary if, according to the Powers That Be - with whom he had a passing acquaintance, he wanted to stay incarnate. And he did want to stay incarnate for so many reasons including the high probability of impending carnality with Susan Farnsworth.

As they walked down the hall toward the room she was looking more and more like she was approaching a firing squad. Rev wasn’t sure about the best course of action, but he knew he was on shaky ground and that he’d better proceed cautiously. He was halfway surprised that she walked in when he opened the door. Based on her body language, he’d anticipated that she might try a sprint for the fire escape.

Once inside, he turned on the lamps and took off his coat while Farnsworth stared at the bed. He walked over to her, gently gripped her forearms that were holding her coat lapels like her life depended on it, and began slowly walking backwards so that she moved with him, almost like a dance. He maneuvered her across the room until the two of them were standing over the sofa, where he urged her to sit.

She looked down at the sofa and complied, but made no move to loosen her hold on the coat. He sat down close to her and waited for her to look at him. She didn’t. She looked everywhere in the room but at him.

“If this was a mistake, I apologize. The last thing, the very last thing, I want is to make you uncomfortable. If you’d like to think of this as simply a quiet place, away from work and all the people who know us, where we can have some wine and get to know each other better? Then that’s exactly what this will be.”

She looked over at him. “Just wine?”

He smiled. “I don’t want to leave you with the impression that it’s my first choice, but showing you a good time is what I want most tonight.” It would have been impossible to not smile at words so thoughtful. So she smiled. “Can I take your coat or would you rather keep it?”

She looked down at where she was holding the coat together like she’d forgotten she was wearing one. When her eyes lifted to him, she laughed in a self-deprecatory way. “I’m being silly. Right?”

“I don’t know. What got you spooked?”

“Spooked? That’s an unfortunate choice of words.”

A small frown formed and he shook his head in confusion. “I don’t…

“You opened the wrong door with an unfortunate word and I made it worse with a bad joke. Terrible joke as a matter of fact.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but there was a knock at the door. “Must be wine.”

While he went to open the door, she removed her coat.

“Good evening, sir. Where would you like the wine?”

Rev gestured toward the table in the corner.

The tray was carried by a young man wearing a handsome mulberry short coat. He nodded at Farnsworth. “Madame.” While opening the wine, he said, “The management instructed room service to include some cheese and a few chocolates.”

“That was very nice of them,” said Rev as he took the vinyl wallet holding the bill and signed for it.

“Thank you, sir. Will there be anything more?”

“We’ll call if we need something else.”

The traveling sommelier nodded at Farnsworth again. “Have a good evening.”

Rev closed the door behind him and locked it. When he turned back to the sofa, Farnsworth wasn’t there. She had gathered up two wine glasses in one hand and the bottle in the other and was headed back toward the sofa.

She poured both glasses and handed one to him as he sat back down. She took a sip and closed her eyes as the taste lingered on her tongue and the slight tinge of burn descended into her system.

“You were saying?” he asked.

“Hmmm?”

“Before. You were saying something about a bad joke.”

“Oh.” She’d been hoping he’d forgotten so they could start fresh on a new topic. She looked away and started studying various objects in the room again.

“Susan. You can tell me. Whatever it is. I want to know.”

She smiled. “I don’t think you do.”

“I do.”

“Not really.” She shook her head.

“If you weren’t so beautiful, I might be tempted to call you exasperating.”

Her smiled died. “I’m not beautiful.”

He cocked his head. “Who said?”

She dropped her eyes and took a sip of wine. “I know that people talk about other people at Jefferson Unit. It’s like a small town. Everything is everybody’s business.” He nodded to encourage her to continue. “So maybe you already know that I was engaged?”

“To the former Sovereign. Yes. I did know that. Is that what this…? Are you feeling like…?” Try as he might he couldn’t find a way to phrase the question without making things awkward between them. “You talk. I’ll listen.”

“Well, it wasn’t that long ago and I really wasn’t ready to think about, um, dating. I may have ventured into this too soon.”

“You’re having second thoughts about having dinner with me?”

She flashed a big smile that showed white even teeth, a big contrast to her lipstick. “Too late for that. No. Dinner was wonderful. I just wasn’t prepared for… ah, this.” She used the wine glass she was holding to gesture toward the bed. “It’s too soon. He hasn’t been gone that long.”

There it was. The grandfather of all double binds. There was a part of him, a big part, that was glad she mourned Sol. There was another part that wanted her to just suck it up, get over it, and take off her clothes. At some point he realized she was waiting for him to respond.

“Tell me about him.”

That was the last thing she’d expected to hear. It was evident he’d surprised her because her dark eyes flared a little. “Why would you want me to talk about that?”

“Just do.” She looked dubious. “We agreed we’re here to get to know each other. I’ve got you all to myself. No phones. No computers. No workmen. No Genevieve. No trainees needing fresh diapers.” That made her laugh and damnation if laughter wasn’t a great look for her. “It’s our chance to say whatever we want without fear of being overheard.”

For a minute she just studied him, like she was trying to discern whether or not he was being truthful. “He was extraordinary. Well,” she shrugged, “I guess all Sovereigns are extraordinary, by the very definition, but there was so much more. I could talk about all his wonderful qualities, but in the end, what it came down to? Is that we fit. Just as simple as that. He made me feel like I was precious because he’d picked me. He made me glad to be me.”

She felt a hot tear slide down her cheek and reached to swipe it away, but Rev caught her hand. He leaned over and kissed her cheek where the tear had left a trail. When he pulled back it wasn’t far enough that she couldn’t feel his breath on her face. “I can’t tell you when is the right time to move on, but I can tell you that’s how you make me feel.”

“What?” she sniffed.

“You make me feel like there’s nothing more important in the world than being with you.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. You practically just met me. This is our first date.”

“I know and I don’t care. You’re the one.”

“The one?”

“The one.”

“I want to go.”

“All right.” He cursed himself silently for pushing. Too much. Too soon. He’d scared her away and it might take forever to get her alone again. He reached for her coat and helped her into it. She gathered up her purse and started for the door without looking back. He followed helplessly wishing he could just go back five minutes and retract everything he’d said that made her ill at ease. “Just tell me one thing,” he said to her back. “Do you feel comfortable with me? Like we… fit?”

He’d followed so close that, when she turned around, she practically ran into him. They weren’t face to face because he was a good eight inches taller. She dropped her purse on the floor, reached up with both hands, and pulled his face down so that she could press her mouth to his. When his tongue began a thorough exploration, hers tangled with his and she delighted in the groan she elicited.

They cleaved to each other in a way that was far too desperate for a first date. They pulled, pressed and almost clawed with a passion that was staggering. And so unexpected. At least on her part.

Within minutes Farnsworth’s wool coat and red dress had joined the purse on the floor. That was when the wave of panic washed over her. “Stop. Stop.” She tried to push him away.

He was dumbfounded. “Why?”

“Turn off the lights.”

“Turn off the lights? Why?”

“Because I’m forty-four. Not twenty-four.”

He stared into her eyes for a few beats before saying, “No.”

She gaped. “What do you mean, ‘No.’?”

“I want to look at you.”

“No you do not.”

“Yes. I do.” At that point he was grabbing for clothing while she was retreating. It quickly turned into a game of mock chasing around a hotel room with Farnsworth in pretty black and red lingerie. It was so ridiculous she couldn’t help laughing.

When he caught her, he pulled her to him, trapping her arms. “I’m not shy about my body. Would it make you feel better if I go first?”

She laughed, but it was hollow and smirking. “Of course you’re not shy about your body! First you’re a man. And, second, you’re only thirty-one!”

“Put on some music. I’ll do a strip-tease for you.”

She looked at him like he was crazy. “You’re past ridiculous,” she laughed although there was a part of her that was intrigued.

“If I dance for you naked, you have to agree to let me remove these last pretty things from your beautiful body.” He knew he had her when she hesitated. He backed her up until the sofa seat hit the back of her legs, then gave her a little push. She sat and ended up at eye level with his swollen crotch. When he saw that her eyes hadn’t left his groin, he reached down and ran a palm over the erection that was clearly outlined by silk and wool blend slacks. Honestly, he wasn’t an exhibitionist and didn’t know where that came from, but the motion made her tongue peek out and absent-mindedly lick her bottom lip.

He strode to the radio beside the bed, which was a Bose and had beautiful clear sound. After a little tuning he settled on a smooth jazz station and turned around with a devilish smile. Farnsworth responded with a flush, pulled a throw pillow over her midsection and held onto it like a life raft. Everything about what was going on screamed naughty, but she was helpless to end it.

Rev was already coatless. She’d pushed it off his shoulders when they were still by the door. As he watched her closely, observing every reaction, he toed off his shoes, took off socks and threw them behind him. He paid careful attention to where her eyes were tracking and to changes in the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest.

Dancing was certainly not a skill he would claim, but he was flexible and he figured the aspect of clothing removal was more important than actual dancing. So he began moving rhythmically, unbuttoning his shirt as slowly as he advanced on his audience. It seemed that Rev Farthing’s body had recorded muscle memory of dance moves. Maybe Sol wasn’t a dancer, but Farthing was.

Farnsworth was feeling all sorts of tingling sensations awaking parts that had been dormant for a while. She found herself feeling impatient about the time he was taking to remove his shirt. She was ready to see his exposed upper body.

When he did pull the shirt back, he was standing right in front of her. Her eyes went straight down the hills and valleys of his abs to the dark happy trail that disappeared into his pants. She wanted to lean forward and lick straight up that trail until she reached his nipples while running her hands over that flawless expanse of skin.

He motioned for her to take hold of his right cuff. When she did he pulled away and turned until the shirt landed in her lap, leaving her feeling like she’d just stripped him. Without thinking or taking her eyes away from the floor show, she brought it up to her nose. The scent was shockingly familiar. Starch, Old Spice soap and a hint of cigar, like the little black cigars Sol used to smoke. Underlying all that was something indescribably masculine that got her nether parts even more engaged in the experience at hand.

Still moving to the music, Rev’s hips and body were making slow circles, not so exaggerated as to be comical, not so insignificant as to go unnoticed. Her eyes followed his fingers as they undid his belt buckle. He began to draw it out of the waistband loops, painstakingly, agonizingly slowly.

Glancing up at his face she could see that he was clearly enjoying her obvious appreciation of his body and its performance, but he was also smoldering as much as she was. It was by far the most erotic thing she’d ever experienced.

When the belt was halfway out, he extended the buckle to her and nodded. Tentatively she reached out and took it, then pulled until it came free in her hands. He smiled like she’d done something quite exceptional.

He unbuttoned, unzipped, turned around and took a step toward the bed before letting the pants drop to his bare ankles. She already knew he had an eye-catching rear view because she’d been watching him turn around and leave her office several times a day. But the panorama of his bare muscular shoulders and back tapering to his slim waist was a whole new level of lust-driven need to salivate.

When he turned back around to face her, he was wearing nothing but black knit boxers and a smile. He walked forward until his legs were touching hers. One small piece of fabric was the only thing that stood between Rev and nakedness.

“Go on,” he said. She shook her head in an exaggerated way just like a little girl. He laughed. “I insist.”

His hips began moving again as if to entice her to submit. She was mesmerized. And he knew it. Finally, her desire to see what was under the boxers overrode every bit of warring emotion whether it was caution, anxiety, guilt, or fear. She reached out with both hands and let her fingertips slide under the waistband. The second her hands came in contact with his skin he closed his eyes and subtly thrust his hips forward as if his body was reflexively begging her for more touch.

With her heart beating as fast as if she was riding a roller coaster, she pulled the stretchy material toward her and down so that his cock could spring free. She didn’t have so much as three seconds to appreciate the glorious sight of perfect, ample young male in the fullness of arousal before he bent down, tossed the pillow aside and scooped her up.

During the brief time her mind was frozen on a loop of oh, my, my, my, my, my, he managed to carry her to bed and place her securely underneath him so that she was trapped by part of his upper body and one of his heavy legs. All thought of protest died as he began an assault of hot and sincere kisses over her neck and face. She had absolutely no desire to be anywhere else doing anything else.

Her body had already been primed by the sensual demonstration of striptease so that she overheated like a pressure cooker with actual contact. When her lips parted to release a moan, he muffled the sound by covering her mouth with his. Thus distracted, he reached under her, released the bra snaps and pulled the fabric away. As he continued to overwhelm her with touches light and firm, kisses passionate and feathery, she had no defense to offer when he lifted far enough away to pull her panties down her legs.

There was a question in her eyes once she was bared to him.

“Beautiful. Perfect for me.”

She could tell that he was telling the truth. He really wanted her. In that way. All forty-four years of her.

As he continued making love to her she marveled at how he seemed to know exactly what she wanted and needed. He knew every one of her erogenous zones and explored them like he’d had a Farnsworth instruction manual. It was heady and heavenly. And comfortingly familiar. When she climaxed, she shocked herself by calling out Sol’s name.

The instant it left her lips, she realized what she’d said and gasped. Rev had stilled. He lifted his head to see her face and found her eyes wide open and starting to tear up.

“I’m sorry,” she began. “So very, very sorry. I know it’s you and, oh gods, I don’t know how I could have said that.”

“Shhhh. It’s okay,” he murmured in a soothing tone. “Don’t be sorry. You just gave me a goal to work toward. Someday you’re going to feel that way about me.”

What he wanted more than anything was to tell her that she wasn’t wrong, that she responded to him like he was her man because he was her man. He hadn’t really realized just how hard it was going to be to keep that particular secret.

During the night, as Farnsworth lay in his arms in the dark, she told him everything about what had happened at the beach house up to and including the paramedic callously saying to his companion that she could have prevented Sol’s death with the correct application of a tourniquet.

He listened silently, her tears falling on the bare skin of his chest, as she poured out the grief and sorrow and guilt. All the while he was thinking that he’d been a selfish bastard, first caught up in getting back to life and then caught up in getting Jefferson Unit up to speed. He hadn’t really considered the extent of what she’d been through while he’d been otherwise occupied.

There as they lay together, for the first time, he put himself in her place and tried to imagine what it would have been like if she’d been the one who bled out on the beach on a cold March day while he watched helplessly. He pulled her tighter as his chest constricted and he loved her even more.

Lost in those thoughts he had to go back and piece together what she’d just said.

“What?”

“I said it’s time for me to sell the beach house. I don’t want to ever be there again. I guess I’ll go down this weekend, get the stuff out I want to keep, and talk to a realtor.”

“I want to go with you.”

After a long pause, she said, “Why?”

“It was a place you loved and it was a place where something life-changing happened to you. I’ll take Saturday off and go with you.” After all, he thought, what’s the point of getting a second chance at life if not to do some things differently? Like take a day off to go on an important errand with your girl.

“You’ll take Saturday off?” She seemed to be considering. “I don’t know.”

“Why not? Is this a one night stand?”

She sighed and made a sound like a stifled laugh. “No. Nothing like that. It just… I don’t know. Seems like it would feel wrong to take somebody else there.”

“Tell you what. Let me go with you. If my being there makes you uncomfortable, I’ll take a hike. Okay?”

“I can’t imagine why you’d want to go. Really. But truthfully, I’d just as soon not face it alone.”

“You haven’t been back since?”

“No.”

“Then I absolutely insist on going.”

Things between Rev and Farnsworth were moving at dizzying speeds. She hadn’t had a lot of relationships with men, but she knew enough to know that her relationship with Rev was highly unusual.

On Saturday morning at dark early they left Jefferson Unit in her Land Rover. The vehicle was old, but it ran and she loved that it had so much glass. It was the next best thing to being in a convertible.

Rev noticed that she was becoming more and more apprehensive as they drew closer to Cape May.

“I’m with you, Susan. You’re not doing this alone.”

He saw her face soften as she glanced over at him. “I know. And I’m glad. It would have been harder to come all by myself.”

The house smelled a little musty when they opened the door and stepped in. As Farnsworth went through the rites of opening the house, Rev followed her around trying to keep her mind occupied with questions. Like, “How long have you had this place?” “Did you always want a beach house?” “What is it about the beach that you like so much?”

When she took her jewelry box out of the dresser drawer in her bedroom and dropped her pearl necklace inside, he saw the ring he’d given her sitting alone inside one of the pink velvet compartments. That ring wasn’t designed to sit inside a beach house jewelry box like a high school memento that had outlived its day and its usefulness. That ring was made for wearing on her finger. He’d known it the moment he first saw it.

Farnsworth glanced at her watch. They still had half an hour before the realtor was to meet them there so she made a pot of coffee and they sat down at the kitchen table to wait. Ten minutes after appointment time, the realtor called to say something urgent had come up and could they possibly reschedule for the next day?

“Just a minute.” She put the phone face against her chest to mute the sound and turned to Rev. “She can’t come today and wants to know if I can meet her tomorrow instead?”

“If you’re asking if I can stay with you until then, the answer is yes.”

She nodded, told the realtor they could meet Sunday afternoon instead, and ended the call. When she faced Rev, it was evident that she wasn’t sure what to do next.

“So! We’re spending the night?” he asked, trying to sound enthusiastic. She looked around nervously and bit her bottom lip. It was heartbreaking to see his supremely confident lady so devastatingly insecure. “Or we could go get a room at that bed and breakfast we passed. Come back tomorrow.” When she didn’t answer, he added another option. “Or I could go get a room at the B&B if you’d rather.”

He watched her chest heave as she took in a deep breath and steadied her resolve. It gave literal meaning to the term “suck it up”.

“No. We can stay here. It would be silly to go somewhere else.”

Rev wanted to do something to ease the pain he was reading on her face and body language, but didn’t know that anything but time, and maybe love, could fix that.

“Let’s go back up the highway to that grocery store and get some supplies. I’ll make dinner. What would you like?”

That seemed to distract her, at least temporarily. She smiled. “You know how to cook?”

“Not everything, but I have a couple of specialties. Bam!” He made a stage magic gesture with both hands.

She giggled. “Would never have taken you for an Emeril fan.”

“Well, while we’re driving to the store, I’ll tell you about the time I was stuck in a Nicaraguan dump waiting for a guy who was supposed to deliver a Chupacabra report. There was a TV, but the only channel that came in was the cooking channel. For days I had nothing to do but watch that guy and listen to it rain.”

“Okay. Going to grab a sweater and then we’ll go.”

When she came back down, she was wearing a brightly colored hand knit sweater that truly was wearable art and Rev would have thought it was gorgeous on her except for one thing.

“What’s that?” He pointed at her chest and looked unhappy.

She looked down. “It’s a sweater.”

“No. That!”

She looked closer, following the trajectory line to the exact place where he was pointing. The sweater was a highly prized designer item that had been an expensive gift. It was covered with rows of pretty white fleeced, white-faced sheep following each other in rows, except for a single black-faced sheep that was facing outward. “Are you talking about the little black-faced sheep? It’s the designer signature.”

His eyes rose to meet hers and he realized he probably looked and sounded a little crazy. He shoved a hand over his head. “I guess this sounds crazy and I apologize for that, but could you possibly wear another sweater?”

Farnsworth let her mouth fall open. “Are you afraid of the black-faced sheep on my sweater?”

He looked like he was trying to decide what to say, but never got a chance. She burst into laughter that racked her body. It was a feeling she’d grown unaccustomed to. She held her sides and laughed so hard she actually thought it might make her sore. The fact that Rev looked so humiliated only made it funnier.

Farnsworth wasn’t usually the sort of person to find humor in ridicule, but there was something so ludicrous about the battle-hardened vampire hunter being afraid of a little inanimate sheep, part of a woven pattern on a piece of cloth.

“I’m not afraid,” he said, failing to sound convincing. “I just don’t like it.”

She shook her head and started back upstairs to change, chuckling all the way.

She had given him the keys to drive, but said nothing else after coming back down wearing a sweater that was mono color. White. He thought she was making a statement with her choice of substitute.

En route to the store, he said, “I guess it was ridiculous.”

“What?” she asked innocently while batting her eyelashes and screwing up her mouth to stifle a giggle.

“Okay. Have it your way. Just keep it up, but you’re looking at karma’s errand boy.”

That phrase completely messed up her determination not to tease him anymore. The laughter started all over again.

“You want to tell me what it’s about?”

“What?”

“Being phobic of black-faced sheep?”

He looked away, out the driver’s side window, then back at the road, but did not look at her. “No,” was all he said, but it was obvious he was pouting. She’d hurt his ego.

Staring at his handsome profile for a few beats, she was thinking that everyone is entitled to a few quirks, a few eccentricities, and a few secrets. “Okay. I know it wasn’t that you were bitten by one because they’re herbivores. But that’s all I’m going to say. Subject closed.” True to her word she didn’t say anything else about it. Right after one last muffled chuckle.

They argued over whether to use red peppers or green peppers and finally compromised on both. Oddly, even the arguing felt like a glove worn into the exact shape of the hand.

It started to rain just as they made it back to the house, ran up the stairs, and closed the sliding glass door.

Rev grinned. “Good timing.”

The temperature dropped a little, but mostly it just felt colder because of the additional damp in the air. He built a fire using wood that Sol had brought in and, again for the thousandth time, wished that he could turn to Farnsworth and remark about the oddity and bitter sweetness of that.

They sat down on the couch in front of the fire together. With dinner a couple of hours away, there wasn’t really anything to do but be in the moment. Together.

She decided the best way to handle a silence before it became awkward was to fill it with sound. “So I guess Rev is short for Revenge?”

He angled his body toward her and reached over to finger a stray tendril of dark locks next to her face. “No,” he said with a light of amusement dancing in his eyes. “Short for Reverence.” And that’s what she would call the emotion being projected back at her, but she didn’t trust it. Couldn’t trust it. People just didn’t fall in love so fast.

He leaned over, lowered his voice, and said, “Let’s go upstairs.”

Her body betrayed her in a series of quivers. She asked herself if she wanted that and the surprising answer was yes. She thought making love to a man who wasn’t Sol, in that place of all places, should feel like a betrayal, but it didn’t.

Before they arrived she would have said the same thing about teasing and laughter, that it would feel horrible, that it would be an affront to her relationship with the man she loved – the man she would always love. But she didn’t feel guilty about laughing with Rev. It didn’t make her feel bad at all. It was more like the easing of a giant burden.

Without another word she rose and walked to the stairs.

They made sweet love that afternoon with rain falling on a roof that had been built before modern codes required sound-muting insulation. It was lovely.

It was also eerie that he seemed to know exactly what she liked in bed. All the little familiarities that lovers usually learn through time and experiment. Like the fact that she liked her nipples tweaked but not pinched, that she liked oral sex right after a recent shower, that she liked breath on her ear, but not tongue in her ear, that she liked nipping but not biting.

When they returned to the kitchen to make dinner, it felt as though an exorcism had been done on the house, clearing away ghostly vibrations of unhappy memories. Farnsworth insisted that they do the cooking together. They were making pasta primavera. He was responsible for the primavera and Alfredo sauce, which he finished before her part of the meal, the pasta, was ready.

She turned from the boiling pot on the stove, waving a long wooden spoon, and asked Rev to open a bottle of wine.

“Sure,” he smiled. He picked out a bottle of Red Guitar, then walked straight to the trick drawer, kicked the baseboard underneath the bottom cabinet and pulled at the same time.

Her mind raced through every conceivable explanation while her knees threatened to give out from under her. Somehow she managed to stay upright. It couldn’t be. But it had to be. She couldn’t dismiss the possibility out of hand. After all, she worked for an organization where impossible things were as routine as requisitioning printer paper.

While he was facing the counter opening the wine, she came up behind him.

“So,” she said in the lightest tone she could manage, “the realtor doesn’t come until tomorrow afternoon.” He glanced back over his shoulder, but didn’t turn around. “So I was thinking we might rent a dune buggy tomorrow morning.”

He wheeled on her with wild eyes, his face instantly drained of color and wearing panic like a mask. He grabbed her shoulders and tried to say the word “no” forcefully, but his throat had closed up and he could barely get out a sound that was somewhere between a whisper and a growl.

When he realized how much he’d appeared to overreact, he relaxed his grip on her shoulders. Seeing the expression on her face he knew instantly that it had been a trick. A good one. He released her, dropping his hands and stood up straight.

He clutched his arms around his body as if that would prevent the Powers That Be taking it from him. When a minute had gone by and he was still standing in the beach house kitchen, he started to breathe easier. He had promised that he wouldn’t tell anyone, but he hadn’t guaranteed that no one would guess.

Beginning to relax, he asked, “How?”

“How did I know?” He nodded slowly. “There’s a trick to opening the drawer with the bottle opener.” His eyes slid to that drawer and he glared at it like it was a traitor. “But if somebody in this room is going to ask a question that begins with ‘how’, by all rights it ought to be me.”

“I can’t tell you anything besides the fact that I’m glad you figured it out. If I could have told you more, I would have. Don’t you know I wanted to?” He ran his hand over the top of his head and looked around nervously like he was still expecting lightning to strike. “You have to be the smartest woman alive.”

At the same time Rev was beginning to hope that he might have a real second chance at life, it hit Farnsworth that her suspicions were confirmed.

It was real.

He was real.

Sol in a younger, different body.

When the reality hit her, it was all at once. She convulsed, sucking in a gasp as she grabbed for him, exhaling a deluge of tears intermingled with sobs.

“I… missed you. So much.” He cradled her head to his chest with one big hand and let her cry while he scattered kisses over the top of her hair. “Do you know how hard it is to lose the person you…?”

“Love?” He pulled back. “The person you love? You do still love me, right?”

She nodded, wondering why she didn’t feel traumatized by shock. Her best explanation was that some part of her had recognized him and had been processing it on a subconscious level all along.

“The answer is yeah. I know how I felt when I thought I might not see you again. So, yes. I know. I can’t tell you much, but I will tell you that I had to fight my way back here. Part of it was because my job wasn’t finished, but a big part of it was because of you.” He ran his thumbs across her tearstained cheeks.

The pasta chose that moment to bubble over making a mess of starchy water all over the stove and floor. The cleanup took an hour and the food was inedible, but neither one cared. They were just happy to be with each other.

She was finishing up when Rev returned to the kitchen. He held out two fists. “Which one?”

She smiled indulgently and tapped his left hand.

He shook his head and opened an empty fist. “Nope. Try again.”

She tapped his right hand. He held out the engagement ring he’d bought her. “You want to go out for food? Or get married? Or get supper and get married?”

She laughed and nodded. “Yes. Both.”

“You know you’re never going to be able to tell anybody. That it’s me.”

“Okay. I can keep a secret, but you know I’m not the only one who knows you pretty well. I’d be surprised if at least one other person isn’t suspicious.”

After a short pause, his jaw clenched and he simply said, “Storm.” Then he looked away and sighed. “I guess I haven’t taken steps to disguise Sol very well.” He ran a hand over his head. “Maybe deep down I really wanted to be found out.”

He gave her a devilishly intimate smile and stepped into her, pressing her body into his and brazenly cupping her breast with his palm. “I know I like having you know. A lot.”

They drove to the beachside roadhouse that was twenty minutes up the highway. Farnsworth said she’d never been, but thought they stayed open late.

The parking lot was crowded for ten o’clock at night. It was the kind of joint that promised a good time, but not necessarily good food. The crowd was mostly twenties and thirties. Lots of people with tans on their faces from windsurfing even in winter. The bar area occupied the middle of the space with pool tables on one side and eating tables on the other.

The minute they walked in Farnsworth noticed that every female of every age stopped what they were doing and turned to look at Rev Farthing. She knew the new body was good-looking, but hadn’t thoroughly digested the idea of drop dead beautiful until that moment. She was also self-consciously aware of the age difference. Acutely so.

A blond wearing a half apron, a black fanny pack, and a Harley tank top that revealed way too much bounteous bosom sauntered up to them, smiling at Rev. Without ever once making eye contact with Farnsworth, she said, “Seat yourself, gorgeous.” She noticed that even the wording ignored her. ‘Seat yourself’ instead of seat yourselves.

Rev smiled at her and nodded as he put his hand on the small of Farnsworth’s back to guide her toward the “dining room”.

It had taken him less time than he would have imagined, prior to finding himself occupying a new body, to get used to having women throw themselves at him. He saw it as harmless, ego-boosting fun. No more. No less.

After a few minutes Ms. Overboobed arrived with two menus and two glasses of water. Again, she managed to leave the menus and the water without making eye contact with Farnsworth. When she left, Rev said, “What looks good to you?”

“I’m so hungry I almost don’t care how much grease is in it or how many times the same grease has been used to fry other people’s food.”

He laughed. “Well I could go the health route and try to take care of this body, but I’m thinking I’ll go with the other option which is to do whatever the hel I want. You should take care of yourself though.”

She was just about to ask what he meant by that when the slut slinked back over to their table. Her approach to order taking was the height of informality. She bent over and rested her elbows on the table, which revealed what very little had been left to imagination.

From that pose she tried her very best I’m-interested smile on Rev. “So what are you having, sugar?”

“Half pound burger medium with bacon, shitake mushrooms, hickory sauce, yellow mustard. Three onion rings on the burger and heat the bun. Put some fries on the side of that with a ketchup bottle that hasn’t been opened. And I’ll take a long neck Lone Star.”

She grinned. “I like a man who knows what he wants. And what about your…?”

She pointed at Farnsworth with her pencil and glanced her way for the first time.

“My fiancée,” he beamed at Farnsworth, finishing Boobs’ sentence for her.

Farnsworth smiled and wiggled her ring finger in the air.

Boobs’ face fell and she flushed, flummoxed. “Oh, I wouldn’t have… What’s your order, ma’am?”

“Anything without arsenic.” Boobs looked confused. “Bring me the small version of his burger, medium well, without the bacon and onion rings, with lettuce and tomato. I’ll have a coconut rum with 7 Up now.”

When they were alone again Rev said, “That’s new. I didn’t know you like coconut rum.”

“It helped me sleep through a few hard nights after…”

He decided to change the subject. “What was that about arsenic?”

“At least half the female population of this establishment wouldn’t shed a tear if I ended dinner with my feet straight up in the air like an exterminated cockroach.”

Rev looked sincerely lost. “No clue.”

“You can’t be oblivious to the way Boobie is coming on to you.”

His gaze jerked toward the bar and then slid back to Farnsworth slowly as a snide smile formed on his perfect mouth. “You’re jealous of the waitress? Seriously?”

“You need to get with the twenty-first century, old man. They’re called wait staff now. Not waitresses.”

“Wait staff. Bimbo. Whatever. I can’t control other people’s minds or their clothing choices or the fact that they choose to run up credit card bills getting grotesque implants, but you’ve got to know you’re the only one for me. Now and forever.”

She gave him her best heartwarming smile. “Now that I know who I’m with, I do know that. That’s why I didn’t trip her when she walked away.”

They laughed and talked, made fun of the juke box music, stuffed themselves with America’s favorite toxins, and loved every second of it. When it was time to leave, Farnsworth insisted on paying the check. Rev protested, but she was adamant. So he gave in.

With the pen provided she wrote a note on the back. It read, I’m famous for giving great tips, but not tonight. – The Gorgeous Sugar’s Woman

She didn’t trip the waitperson, but by all that was holy, she didn’t tip her either.

CHAPTER 13

Glen was standing in front of his dresser not wearing a stitch, vigorously rubbing excess moisture out of his hair with a towel, when his phone buzzed. He looked over at the face, read the first part of the text, and cursed under his breath.

Z Team was called to the Sovereign’s office. Since he was officially a part of Z Team, he assumed that included him. It also presented the potential of a timing catastrophe. He was supposed to be in Sov. Farthing’s office in forty-five minutes. The problem was that he was also supposed to be picked up in an hour by the half witch, half demon who he hoped would someday be his mother-in-law.

Which of them would he least like to disappoint? Now there was a riddle for the sphinx. Glen was thinking that, when Monq said everything in life could be distilled to an equation, he hadn’t been faced with that particular dilemma. Any way you added the factors, the sum equaled undesirable result.

He stood holding his phone for a few seconds, then replied to the text.

Would it be possible for me to arrive five minutes early for a private word, sir?

Glen watched while the send bar filled and waited until he received confirmation that transmission was complete. When no response dinged in right away, he decided to use the wait time productively and get dressed.

He glanced away from the phone long enough to retrieve faded jeans and a black tee shirt. The clothes were pulled on without Glen diverting attention away from his phone except for the literal blink of an eye when the shirt slid past his face.

Sitting on the side of the bed, he jerked on crew socks, then pushed his feet into short black combat style boots and left the lacings undone. Looking up at his reflection in the mirror that hung over the dresser, he grabbed the comb, pulled it haphazardly through his hair a couple of times and then shook his head so that it didn’t look like he’d gone to a lot of trouble. He cared about grooming, but drew a line short of metropussy.

The phone vibrated against the wood of the dresser top and Glen snatched it up faster than a snake strike.

Five minutes face time approved.

His feet knew the way to the Sovereign’s office so well that his body would take him there with his mind on auto. Thinking it wouldn’t be a good idea to ask to meet five minutes early and be late, he went with the philosophy of better safe than sorry. He exited the elevator at second sublevel, glanced at his watch, and took up a post outside the Sovereign’s office ten minutes early. He wasn’t taking any chances on being late.

The trainee on duty as outer office assistant had a vantage point that gave a partial view of the hall. He looked at Glen quizzically.

“Got a meeting with the big giant head in,” he looked at his watch, “seven minutes.”

The kid nodded and smiled.

In five minutes Rev opened his door part way and said, “When Sir Catch arrives, show him in.”

The kid looked toward Glen. “He’s already here, sir.”

“Oh.” Rev opened the door the rest of the way and saw Glen waiting. He motioned for him to enter and retook his seat behind his desk while he waited for Glen to close the door behind him. “Well?”

“It’s about the Z Team meeting, sir.”

“Yes? What about it?”

“I’m scheduled to have dinner with the Storms tonight. She, uh, Mrs. Storm, is supposed to pick me up in half an hour or so. I was wondering if I should cancel that engagement?”

“I see.” Rev stared at Glen a moment longer. “That won’t be necessary. What I have to say to Z Team won’t take longer than five minutes.” He sighed. “Probably.”

“Thank you, sir. Should I wait outside in the hall?”

“No. Just open the door and relax until they get here.”

“Yes, sir.”

When the other three members of Z Team came strolling in looking like they owned the place and like they wondered what he was doing arriving early, Glen was thinking he wished he’d been told to wait outside. First in was Torrent Finngarick, also known as Torn, followed by Rafael Nightsong, aka Raif, and Gunnar Gustafsven, a.k.a. Gun.

“Come in and close the door behind you.” Rev didn’t try to disguise his distaste for Z Team. “Got a special assignment for you. You’ll be leaving Tuesday at 1500. Sensitive situation in Bulgaria. You’ll be escorting a special investigator and insuring her safety.”

“Her safety?”

Rev gave Torn a look that would have instantaneously shriveled an ordinary guy’s testicles to the size of peas. The three seasoned members of Z Team looked at each other. Torn said, “You’re no’ sendin’ us on a squint mission. No’ now.”

The Sovereign looked Torn over. “Orders from the top. We all have somebody we have to answer to. On this mission you’ll be taking your orders from the expert who’s being sent to the scene to act on behalf of The Order.”

Torn’s lips pressed together. ”’Tis ox leavin’s, Sovereign.” He used the term ‘sovereign’ sarcastically and with a belligerence that could get him brigged and fined. ’Tis about what happened in Caracas, right? Time to let that go. ‘Twas a long time back and a joke to boot.”

Rev was hit with splashes of wild color and a memory of being so sick he almost doubled over just from recalling it. He’d been getting steadily better at handling the random remnants of experience his brain had retained. That particular incident must have been a doozy to elicit such a big visceral reaction. He wondered what those animals had done to Rev Farthing in Caracas in another lifetime unknown to him.

“No,” he said evenly as the unpleasant feelings began to fade. He rose from his chair slowly and deliberately in a display of authority before placing his palms on his desk. “It’s not about Caracas. It’s about orders.”

Glen stood and stepped in front of Torn. “Sir Finngarick forgot himself and got carried away in the disappointment of being denied an immediate return to hunter duty, sir. It won’t happen again.”

Rev looked from Glen to Torn and back again. He decided the best option was to allow Glen to defuse. “You’ll probably be gone three days, but it could take longer. Pack accordingly. You know the drill.” Rev turned toward his computer screen. When no one moved, he looked at them each individually before saying, “Dismissed.”

When they were a few feet down the hall, Torn turned on Glen. “What was that kiss ass routine, rookie? And whatever gave you the idea that you fuckin’ speak for me?”

What happened next was the last thing in the world that Torn was expecting. Glen placed his palm on Torn’s collar bone and shoved him back against the wall. Hard. That apparently effortless move, was accompanied by the low level werewolf snarl that never failed to raise the hair follicles of everyone within earshot.

The next words that came out of Glen’s mouth were half spoken, half growled.

“Don’t talk to me like that, Elf. I’m not a trainee anymore. And don’t even think about being disrespectful to a superior again. I don’t care if you have a history. You better get your shit together before you make me sorry I threw in with you.”

When Glen released Torn and stepped back, Gun laughed into his hand and said, “Yeah. What he said,” which only served to infuriate Glen further.

Glen wheeled on him. “Shut it, Gun. You were the one tasked with defusing this redheaded powder keg.” He jerked his head toward Torn. “Where were you in there? The situation had one leg hanging off a cliff. I gave you plenty of time to step in and handle it, but what? You pussied out? Had a petit mal seizure? You scared of this elf?”

Gun was starting to grasp that his new role wasn’t a figurehead, that it had teeth and he was supposed to be using them. The realization that the kid had just done the job he was assigned, after he failed to do it, was a creeping humiliation that was manifesting in the reddening of his face. “Now look…”

“Nuh-uh. You’re the one looking right now. You want me to play the role of newbie. Sure. I’m your guy. But only if you’re walking the walk.” He looked over his three team mates. “You want me to respect you? Defer to you? Maybe even admire you? Then start acting like admirable Black Swan knights.”

It was that scene that Litha came upon. Glen faced off against the rest of his new team just royally dressed down by him. She appeared in the hallway where she was to meet Glen and pick him up, and was now looking at the four of them with apprehension.

“Glen? You ready?”

Hearing the soft voice behind him, he watched three pairs of eyes shift their focus away from him. He didn’t turn around immediately, but relaxed his shoulders while continuing the stare down with Z Team. Without looking away from them he let his face morph into a genuine smile right before he said, in fully human tones, “Yes, ma’am. I am. You’re right on time.”

If the three weren’t already speechless, they would have been after seeing Glen turn and saunter over to the beautiful green-eyed witch. He submitted his left wrist while leaving his right thumb hooked in his back pocket. While they watched, Litha snapped the other half of the purple fleece lined handcuffs on Glen just before they disappeared.

Raif whistled softly while Gunnar turned to Torn. “I think you’d better not call him rookie again.”

Torn gave him a look that could kill. “Shut it, Gun.”

“Come on, Irish,” Raif said. “You know he’s right. Time for us to grow up maybe. Yeah? Fuck of a thing that it takes a kid going all righteous on us to point it out. “

Torn stared at Raif. “Maybe.” He gave Gun a little crooked grin. “But if I’m steppin’ over a line, you’ll be catchin’ fire from Wolfboy right along with me.”

“Yeah.” Gun nodded like he was seriously contemplating one scenario after another. “You could look at it like that. Or you could just come to the understanding that it’s embarrassing for you to have not one, but two babysitters.”

Torn’s grin fell. Raif laughed softly and pushed with his shoulder as he nudged by.

“Fuckers.” Torn looked and sounded like a teenager who’d just been grounded.

The Black Swan Vineyard, Napa Valley

Glen didn’t have time to assess Litha’s mood in the passes, but as soon as they reached the vineyard and unhooked, he could see something was wrong. She’d brought them straight to the kitchen where an aproned Storm was stirring something that smelled like marinara.

“Something wrong, Litha?”

If Storm had looked over before Glen had voiced the question, he wouldn’t have needed to ask. The look on his face said it all, but it was punctuated by a shake of his head.

“Nothing at all,” she said with a coolness that didn’t quite pass for nonchalance. “Why do you ask?”

Storm shook his head again and turned back to the stove. You wouldn’t have to be trained to read signals like a Black Swan knight to know that Litha was lying.

“Why do I ask? Well, it could be the look on your face or the tone of your voice. Or it might be the fact that every single muscle in your body is tight as can be.”

“Hey!” Storm turned and pointed the spoon at him. “You don’t need to be looking so closely that you’re making judgments about the state of my wife’s muscles.”

“Sorry, Litha. No offense intended.”

She glared at Storm and clenched her teeth. “None taken.”

Behind her back, Glen held up his hands as if to say, “What gives?”

“Got the word today that retired knights have been recalled to duty.” He looked at Litha. “Temporarily.”

Glen could have kicked himself for not anticipating that Storm being in danger could be a sensitive subject with Litha after all she’d been through. Glen nodded at Storm almost imperceptibly and walked up behind Litha.

He almost whispered to her back. “Would it be better if I come another night?”

Litha turned around and looked at the spot where Glen’s eyes were supposed to be. Then her gaze traveled upward. “When did you get so tall? And, don’t be silly. I’m not taking you back until I’ve stuffed you with pasta and grilled you about my baby.”

Glen looked at Storm for an indication of what to do next. Storm just shrugged and gestured for him to sit down at the table.

“You know,” she began, “you weren’t the only cute one in the hallway.”

Glen looked from Litha to Storm, who had tuned into the conversation with an extra dose of interest. “What is she talking about?” he asked Glen like it was an accusation.

Litha knew it was mean to try to rile Storm’s jealous tendencies, but she was feeling extra ornery. Before Glen could answer she jumped in. “Who’s the edgy one with the dreamy pale blue eyes and the tribal tattoos?”

Storm gaped. “Dreamy blue eyes?” He looked at Glen like he thought Glen had set Litha up on a blind date. Then his brain cleared enough to register the rest of it. “Did you say tattoos? Since when do you like tattoos?”

She didn’t look at Storm, but raised a shoulder prettily and left her answer at that. The cell phone she’d left on the kitchen bar rang. Storm looked over at it and announced, “It’s Elora.”

Normally she would think it was rude to leave a dinner guest to take a phone call, but made an exception for Elora. “I’ll take it in the other room.”

“Hi.” She answered while walking toward the back of the house.

“Just calling to check on you. You seemed pretty upset.”

“You’re not?”

“Well, yes. Of course it’s not ideal, but it’s temporary.”

Litha clenched her teeth involuntarily. “If I hear that word one more time today…”

“Which word? Temporary?”

“Ugh!”

“Okay. So what’s your biggest fear?”

Litha stopped dead still. “You want me to say that out loud?”

“Well, since I’m not Song, that’s the only way I’m going to know the answer.”

“I don’t think I should. It might be inviting, I don’t know, inviting… you know.”

“No I don’t. Are you trying to tell me that you’re superstitious?”

“I think superstitious is a weird word for somebody who works for Black Swan to use. Don’t you? Really?”

“Okay. Let me start over. Do you have reason to believe that saying something out loud will make it happen?”

“Yes. Sort of. I’m not sure.”

“Way to be decisive.”

“Fuck off.”

“Litha!” Elora started laughing because Litha didn’t normally use language like that and it sounded really out of place coming from her.

“Okay. Here it is.”

Elora waited for a full minute. “Where it is?”

“I’m working on it. Don’t rush me.” Elora started humming the Jeopardy clock ditty. “I’m afraid a vampire will…”

When it became clear Litha wasn’t going to finish the sentence, Elora said, “Bite him. You’re afraid he’ll be bitten by a vampire, turn into one, and have to be put down.” Litha’s silence was confirmation enough. “That’s what I thought. See? Here’s the thing. You’re thinking like a human.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re going to know when Storm is on patrol because you’re going to move in here with him until this is over. Right?”

“I hadn’t thought about it. I guess so.”

“So you know when he’s out on patrol. You could follow him. You could stay in the pass so that he’s visible to you, but you’re not visible to him. Or you could weave a protection spell or something like that, right?”

“Elora. If you were here I would have to give you a big kiss.”

“No, you would not. Rammel has my lips so swollen they look bee stung. I don’t need any more kisses today.”

“Too much information. But I love you. And I thank you. You may have saved my marriage.”

“Well, as someone once said to me, I live to serve.”

“If not my marriage, at least dinner. Glen is here. We’re going to try to get to the bottom of why Rosie is AWOL. Call you tomorrow.”

When Litha came back to the kitchen, she was a different person. She breezed in with a radiant smile, gave Storm a big “mwah” kiss on the cheek and asked what she could do to help get dinner on the table.

Storm was stunned and relieved at the same time. He didn’t know what Elora said to his wife, but she had wrought a bona fide miracle. He didn’t dare ask Litha about the change of heart for fear that she might be reminded that she’d been leagues past pissed just minutes before.

With a nonchalance that took acting skills, Storm loaded a giant bowl of fettuccini with thick meat sauce and handed it to Glen, who practically put his face in the food. Litha giggled at the way their guest was inhaling the spicy aroma and making nummy sounds, while shaving fresh parmesan slices onto the Caesar salad she’d just finished tossing.

“It’s nice to have you here, Glen,” she said turning back to the salad.

He set his bowl down at the chair where he had always parked it for Thursday night dinners and straightened up to look over at Litha. “Yeah,” he nodded. “I’ve missed this.”

Storm shut down his cooking station, took off his apron and grabbed the remaining two bowls for himself and Litha. “Sit,” he ordered, gesturing toward Glen with one of the bowls he carried. When all three were seated Storm poured Pino Noir into their glasses.

Glen took a sip. “Hmmm. Not bad. I wonder if this is a local wine,” he teased.

“Not bad, you say? I challenge you to find better anywhere at any price. We could charge ten times as much for this wine, but we like the idea of knowing a lot of people can afford to open it for a typical Thursday night in the kitchen.”

“A man of the people.” Glen held up his glass in a toast.

“Hear, hear.” Litha joined in raising her glass.

Storm held up his own stem of ruby red liquid and corrected, “A wine for the people.”

They clinked, drank and dug into Storm’s Neapolitan masterpiece.

Litha turned to Glen. “Tell me something fun. What’s your latest news?”

“Got my first assignment right before you picked me up. We, Z Team I mean, are going to Bucharest on Tuesday. Escorting a squint specialist on some unnamed mission. Something The Order wants checked out, I guess.

“Anyhow. This is it. Tuesday night at this time I’ll be Sir Catch for real. Knight Errant. Off to see the world on a bona fide version of who let the dogs out.”

Storm’s eyes twinkled with amusement and something that looked a little like pride. At least that was what Litha thought. She couldn’t imagine why Storm would be so much more emotionally engaged with the idea of Glen as hunter than he had been with the idea of Glen as administrator. But there it was.

“Dogs, huh? That’s about right. I wish you weren’t making your bones with those…”

“Don’t say it,” Glen interrupted. “They may be exactly what you’re thinking, but they’re also my team mates now.”

Storm was silent as he looked at Glen thoughtfully. He tipped his wine glass, shoved a ridiculous amount of romaine lettuce in his mouth then smiled at Glen while he chewed. Glen read his own interpretation into that response and smiled back while Litha looked from one to the other wondering what was passing between them.

“Is that who you were arguing with when I picked you up?” Litha asked semi-innocently.

Remembering her comments from earlier, Storm’s gaze shot to Litha. “That’s who you were talking about?!? Gods cursed Z team?!? Dreamy eyes and tattoos?”

Litha stared at Storm wishing to the Seven Legions that she hadn’t gone out of her way to get his jealousy juices flowing.

“Yes. It was Z Team,” Glen said quietly. Storm and Litha were staring at each other. Neither acknowledged Glen’s comment in any way. “I’d offer to leave, but I wouldn’t get back until after I have to report tomorrow morning. I’d probably have to walk to the interstate then hitchhike to the airport and gods only know when I’d get a flight to Newark. And with the time difference…”

Glen was desperately hoping to distract them with chatter. The air in the room was heavy. Glen hadn’t ever experienced the TV sitcom ideal of nuclear family life, but he imagined that was what it felt like to have parents argue.

Finally, Litha reached over and rested her hand lightly on Storm’s knee. “You know I didn’t mean any of that. I was mad and worried about you. I guess I wanted to knock you off balance. It was childish. I’m sorry.”

Storm looked at Glen. “Would you excuse us for a moment? Don’t wait for us. Go ahead and eat.”

Glen looked at his food. “Okay, but yours is getting cold.”

Storm pulled Litha up as he stood and guided her out the back door onto the porch. He closed the kitchen door, urged her a few feet away, and shoved her against the Italianate stucco wall. His delight at hearing her little gasp when he pressed his body into hers massaged away his jealousy. And he smiled at the sound of her little moans when he rocked against her.

“Tell me I’m the only one for you.” She opened her mouth to do exactly that, but didn’t get past the first syllable before he covered her mouth with a kiss so heated one would have thought she’d tried to leave him. He broke from the kiss, “Tell me,” he demanded.

Litha’s heart rate had accelerated so quickly that she was panting. “You’re the only one. There could never be anyone, but you.”

The part of Litha’s brain that was still functioning normally was amazed that someone as strong and confident and beautiful as Storm could need that reassurance. And she was sorry she’d been dumb enough to make him feel emotionally threatened and question her single-minded devotion. That was where her thoughts had gone, when she felt her dress being raised.

“Climb on, baby.”

“Storm! What? No! What if Glen…?”

“Glen’ll stay put.”

He said it like Glen had no mind of his own, but was held in place by Storm’s will alone. That last word was punctuated with the pop of practically new raspberry lace panties being rent asunder and cast aside. She felt him open his pants and started to protest further, but didn’t get far before he lifted her up. Her legs wrapped around his waist of their own accord just before Litha felt her husband drive into her in one powerful thrust. She wanted to cry out, partly from surprise and partly from pleasure, but she didn’t want Glen to hear. Dinner and a sex show. No.

Everything about the incident was out of the ordinary. Storm wasn’t the sort of lover who tore panties and impaled her standing up in the great outdoors. He was acting out a claiming, a primitive rite of territorialism. And she was enjoying it. No. Reveling in it.

It didn’t last long and didn’t need to. It was short, fast, violent and loving. Ten minutes before she would have said that a phrase like violently loving was an oxymoron, but her sexy beast of a husband had just made nonsense of that notion.

He sat her back on her feet with a sweetly lingering kiss that ended with a smug smile of pure satisfaction. Just to be sure she got the message, he ducked down to catch her gaze in his. “And don’t forget it.”

If she wasn’t already married to the man, she would have swooned.

He bent down and retrieved the ruined scrap of lace. After turning it over in his fingers a couple of times, he shoved it down into his pants pocket, but made sure there was just the tiniest hint of raspberry still showing. When Litha realized that he intended to walk back into the house like that, the swoon was replaced with outrage.

“Storm. You are not walking around like that’s a trophy!”

She reached for it, but he started walking backwards, smiling. “I’m not?”

Litha lunged, but he, of course, was quicker.

Glen looked up to see a smiling Storm rush through the door with Litha right on his tail. Her face was flushed and her lips were swollen. Glen hated himself for noticing that Rosie’s mother may have been a fantasy walking. She was Rosie’s mother for gods’ sake and noticing her attractiveness made him feel tawdry.

“Have fun?” Glen wasn’t worried about a smack down. If they could politely excuse themselves to leave him sitting in their kitchen while they were fucking on the patio, he could afford a moment of teasing impertinence.

Storm’s answer was a smile broadening into a grin. Litha blushed madly, smacked Storm on the abs with the palm of her hand, and retook her seat at the table.

“Sorry, Glen,” she started. “We needed to clear up a misunderstanding. These things happen with married people sometimes.”

Glen could think of about a hundred things to say, but wisely, said nothing.

Storm turned to Litha and said, “What’s for dessert?” in such a way that made her wonder if the caveman behavior didn’t need to be curtailed.

“As a matter of fact, I got a turtle cheesecake from Weingartens.”

“Sounds great, doesn’t it, Glen?” Storm slapped Glen on the shoulder.

Glen smiled at Litha. “Definitely! Butter pie with chocolate and nuts. What could be better?” Litha stared at Glen for a couple of beats. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. You’ve just made me seriously rethink eating that.”

“Aw, come on,” Glen said good-naturedly, “with your figure you can afford…” At that point in the sentence, Glen’s brain reengaged as he realized that Storm was touchy about people noticing Litha’s looks. He didn’t have to look at Storm to know that he was glaring.

“Yes?” Litha asked. “With my figure I can afford to…?”

“I, ah, lost my train of thought.”

Litha looked at the way Storm was glowering at Glen. “I’ll bet. Okay. Coffee with your butter pies?”

Both guys said yes.

Glen helped Litha clear, but she shooed him back to the table when she started making coffee.

Storm was lying in wait. “Piecing bits together. Sounds like Litha dropped in on an argument. Standoff, did she say?”

“I don’t think she said standoff.”

“Hmmm. But there was some disagreement.”

“Yes.”

“You want to tell me what that was about?”

Glen’s eyes slid to Storm’s and Storm saw challenge there for the first time in their relationship. “Even if I wanted to tell you, I wouldn’t.”

“I see.” Storm’s tone was noncommittal, but inside he was doing a victory dance thinking that Z Team couldn’t be luckier if they’d won the lottery. They’d managed to walk off with a new team member who was loyal, tough, and smart all in one package. He hoped they understood that they’d been given a priceless gift.

“So,” she said. They both looked at Litha as she set down her coffee cup. “You know it’s not an ambush because I told you I was going to ask. What do you know about why Rosie felt like she needed to disappear?”

Glen put his fork down and sat back. “She said that? That she needed to disappear?”

“Yes. Pretty much.”

Glen squirmed a little. There was little doubt that the conversation was awkward. The fact that Glen had put his fork down was testament to that!

He wasn’t sure how much he should divulge. He couldn’t say it was none of their business. Of course Rosie was their business. To some extent Glen was their business. He just wasn’t sure how much about Rosie and Glen, the couple, was their business.

As he sat deliberating his options he happened to glance at Storm who took a man-sized bite of cheesecake and raised an eyebrow. Since he couldn’t decide on a “best” course of action, he decided to lay it out.

“Rosie went with me on an errand I was running for Elora. While we were gone I told her that I’d signed on with Z Team. She didn’t like the idea of me being inducted into Hunter Division. At all. So she gave me an ultimatum.”

Glen noticed that Storm frowned at that.

“She basically said I needed to choose between her and knighthood. I said I’d spent half my life training for it. I told her I love her, but I’m too young to take a desk job.”

Glen saw that Storm and Litha exchanged glances at various points in the story.

“That’s pretty much it. I laid it out for her. Then she laid it out for me by saying that I needed to change my mind and call by dinner on the following Thursday night. I didn’t.”

“You didn’t call?” Litha asked.

“I didn’t think it would be the best thing for our future to let her dictate what, when, who, and where. So I didn’t change my mind and I waited until midnight to call. But she didn’t answer. I’ve called a lot since then. Texted, too. Nothing.”

Storm turned to Litha. “Did you know about any of this?”

Litha shook her head. “She wouldn’t say anything more than that she had to get away for a while.”

“She probably didn’t tell us anything because she was ashamed of behaving like such a brat! As she should be!”

Litha gaped. Storm had never criticized Rosie. Not ever. “Storm.”

“You can’t think that was behavior worthy of a child of two parents who work for Black Swan.”

“Well, no, I…”

He interrupted that thought. “Of course she didn’t tell us why she was going. She knew that I, for one, would think less of her. I mean, how do you turn to your dad, who happens to be a Black Swan knight, and say, ‘My boyfriend threatened to accept an offer of knighthood so I’m running away?’ Criminently!”

Glen wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but Storm’s reaction wasn’t one of the possibilities on his list of scenarios. “So you’re not mad at me?”

Storm looked at Glen like he’d temporarily forgotten he was there. “Why would I be mad at you? It’s our daughter who’s behaving badly.”

“Storm,” Litha tried again, “she’s really young and inexperienced.”

“I agree,” Glen said. “And I have a theory.”

He had their attention, but waited for them to say they wanted to hear it.

“Well?” Storm was already irritated. No sense poking the bear.

“I know she has your memories.” He looked between them. “But I don’t think she views them viscerally. To her, your memories are like historical facts.”

“You’re going to have to give me more. I’m not getting the point, Glen,” Litha urged him to continue.

“Okay. Let’s say you saw a movie about the Battle of Doe Ford. You may know the facts surrounding the experience, but since you didn’t experience it personally, you didn’t integrate feelings associated with it and you didn’t learn any lessons either. When Rosie views your memories, she does it without real understanding. Like watching a movie about somebody else’s life. The events won’t resonate unless they’re seen in the context of shared experience.”

“You’re talking about maturity,” Litha said.

“In a nutshell, yes. I love her, but she’s not as mature as she looks. She’s not fourteen months old, but she’s not twenty-one either. If she had been a…”

“What were you going to say?” Storm demanded. “Were you going to say if she had been a normal kid?’”

“Well, yeah, I was going to say that. Normal fourteen-year-olds get grounded or have privileges taken away. Their families try to provide a safe place for them to finish percolating – maturity wise – so that, when they go out in the world they can handle themselves. At least that’s how it’s supposed to work. I think. No personal experience with any of that so I can’t be sure.

“But Rosie isn’t just physically deceiving. She’s powerful and tricky and, you know as well as I do, she can’t be controlled.”

Storm reached over and took Litha’s hand in his. They were silent for a while, considering all that had been said. Finally Storm said, “Litha. Do you know where she is?”

Litha shook her head. “I don’t know where she is, but I trust Kellareal to make sure she’s safe. He promised her that he wouldn’t reveal her location, but she was at least mature enough to ask to be notified if there was an emergency. And it’s not true that she can’t be controlled. It’s just true that we can’t do it. Kellareal can manage her though.”

When Glen looked across the table at Storm, he could swear that Storm looked years older than he had before cheesecake.

“Well,” Glen said. “If you do hear from her, will you tell her that I’ve been trying to reach her and that I’m sorry things were left that way? I think she already knows the rest.”

“Of course, Glen,” Litha said. “I guess you need to get back. Get ready for your trip?”

“Thanks for being honest with us, Glen. I was really in the dark about what was going on. I’m not pleased, but knowing is better than not knowing.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Knights don’t call each other sir, Catch.”

“You’re not just a knight to me, sir. You’re Rosie’s dad.”

Storm beamed at Glen.

Litha stood and walked to the bar to grab the handcuffs. “By the time you get back from your assignment, I guess we’ll be moved into Jefferson Unit.”

Storm’s mouth dropped open. “You’re moving to J.U. with me?”

With a look of warning, she said, “Temporarily.”

When Litha returned to the kitchen where she shared a life with her husband, she found him sitting at the table, looking morose.

“What’s wrong?”

He lifted eyes that were unmistakably sad. “I miss her. I was just getting to know her and then she was gone. She didn’t even say goodbye. Or tell us how long she’d be gone. Or where she is. Or what she’s doing.”

Litha sighed as she sat down. “Her body and her intellect grew so fast, but she didn’t have the chance to learn the little things that the rest of us take for granted, like how to handle disappointment. Or how to compromise.”

“Don’t you want to check on her? Just to make sure she’s okay?”

“I do. Of course I do. And I will if it’s something you have to have. But I’d rather give her this. She’s asked us to let her have some time alone. Maybe on some level she recognizes that she’s missing some key components to being really grown up.”

“How long are you willing to give it?”

“I don’t have a deadline in mind. Do you?” Storm pursed his lips and looked thoughtful. “Three months? If we haven’t gotten a visit or a message or anything by then?”

“Sure. That’s fair.” She smiled. “What can I do to take your mind off of it?”

CHAPTER 14

1500 Black Swan Hangar, Jefferson Unit, Fort Dixon, New Jersey

Z Team was already boarded and waiting for their walking assignment to arrive. They heard voices coming up the steps. Monq and a woman.

Monq’s face appeared first when he entered the cabin. He gave perfunctory nods to Z Team, but bestowed a genuine smile for Glen, who grinned and waved back like a little kid on a field trip. Seeing that exchange, Raif shook his head at the newbie’s eagerness and looked out the window with all the bored callousness that comes with eight years of active hunter duty spent in every one of the world’s biggest shit holes.

Listening with one ear, it sounded like Monq was apparently introducing the squint to her protectors. Or was it escorts? Sighing, he decided he should probably turn his head and try to look mildly interested. That was the last thought that fired his synapses before he felt his heart slam into his rib cage. Her.

“Gods on fire.”

Raif said it quietly, but not so quiet that his partner, who was sitting in the chair next to him, didn’t hear. That reaction definitely got Torn’s curiosity going. “You know her?”

Raif’s nostrils flared in reflex to seeing her again. “Yeah. Passing acquaintances. Unfortunately.” Raif felt his organs squirm around when he said the word ‘unfortunately’. His body had always had adverse responses to lying. It was like his insides protested the fact that his feelings didn’t match the words coming out of his mouth. Gods teeth, he didn’t need his own intestines calling him on his fabrications. “And you’re responsible.”

Torn looked at him with incredulity all over his face. “Me? Now why would you be thinkin’ I’m responsible for you knowin’ the lass?”

Raif sneered at him with a disdain so potent and palpable a lesser man would have recoiled. “Remember speed dating?”

Torn looked from the scowl on Raif’s face to Dr. Renaux. When she spotted Raif, her eyes sparked with recognition. She looked away quickly as the reddest full blooming blush he’d ever seen formed on her face and neck.

He barked a laugh in Raif’s direction. “Fucked that one up royally, did ye?” He leaned toward Raif and muttered, “All the better for me. I’m startin’ to see this assignment could have an upside,” he leaned in close enough so that only Raif could hear him whisper, “with rust-colored hair. Skin pigmented like an Impressionist paintin’ and dyin’ for a master’s touch.”

Looking irritated, Raif got up and moved across to the other side of the plane where he slammed himself into a recliner, leaned it back, faced toward the window, and closed his eyes.

Torn had been team mates with Raif a long, long time. Long enough to see when every muscle was tense, eyes closed or not. He laughed again with all the impish glee that Irish elves were known for, enjoying the situation. This trip was shaping up to be potentially fun on so many levels.

The plane hadn’t been in the air for ten minutes before Torn had moved to sit beside Mercy on one of the long, plush sofas. She looked up from what she was reading when she realized that someone was making himself at home. In close proximity.

“Torn Finngarick.” He extended his right hand and gave her the full treatment charming smile.

For just a second Dr. Renaux forgot that she was a grown woman, a professional who was well-respected in her field. She forgot that because, at that limited distance, the elf was so captivating all she could do was stare. She’d heard about the sexual magnetism of Irish elves, but hadn’t ever experienced it up close and personal. That combined with the creature’s beauty was a powerful and, no doubt, potent package.

She was trying to remember if she’d ever seen a person who appeared to have skin so perfect that it was without pores. That was her wayward wondering when he brought her back to the moment by clearing his throat.

“And you would be Dr. Renaux?” he prompted with patience and a twinkle in his sky-blue eyes.

Apparently the redheaded heartthrob was accustomed to having women go frozen fan girl. Crap. She was so flummoxed he’d had to remind her of her own name. Being struck speechless like an illiterate shepherdess coming face to face with a god was a brand new experience for Mercy. A cautionary tale of male beauty from the ancient myths.

Confronting how preposterous it was for her to be struck dumb by a gorgeous guy dripping sex, she laughed out loud. “Great guess. Yes. Dr. Renaux. Call me Mercy.”

He grabbed his chest right over his heart and declared, “Mercy.”

Well, beauty wasn’t everything. Like she’d never heard that one before.

On hearing the sound of her laughter, Raif opened one eye a slit. Just as he’d expected, it had only taken Torn fifteen minutes to get acquainted and extract playfulness from her. He’d known it was inevitable, but that was fast even for Torn. The bastard was probably giving her the deluxe treatment because he’d seen Raif’s reaction and thought there might be a sore to rub salt in.

Torn’s reputation with the ladies, especially human women, was notorious, which meant he was admired by men who aspired to a fuck ‘em and chuck ‘em lifestyle and reviled by the women who’d been fucked. And chucked. It was weird the way women flocked to bad boy elves like gluttons for punishment.

If Torn hadn’t been on the plane, Raif would have eventually worked up the courage to approach her and apologize for the way he’d acted the day they’d met. He’d remembered her first name, but not her last. So he couldn’t track her down. During their relatively brief exchange he’d been so busy telling her who she was and what was wrong with her that he hadn’t found out anything about who she was and why he’d had such a strong visceral reaction to her.

Every chance he got he had used his time off to more or less sneak away to the city. He didn’t tell his nosey team mates where he was going or what he was doing. He just let them assume it was something brothel related. Far from it.

Like a sap, he’d walked around the area where the speed date had taken place. He had no logical reason to believe she lived or worked in that area. She could just as easily be an hour away. Probably was. He knew the chances of running into her were a pair of slim and none and accepted that it was an idiotic way to spend rec time.

If the rest of Z Team knew how he was spending his time, he would never hear the end of it. They’d be following his sorry soul through lifetimes for the pleasure of tormenting and harassing him about it. That’s because they were reprobate bastards. And he had the very fine distinction of fitting right in with them.

He knew it was juvenile to care about being teased over a woman, but he had to live with those shitheads and ridicule gets real old real fast.

Yeah. Every member of Z Team knew that, when it came to the female sex, Torn got first round pick. They knew they might as well sit back and wait for him to make his selection before scoping out who they might want to get to know better.

If Torn had taken a bead on Mercedes Renaux, Raif knew he might as well close his eyes, take a nap, and try to forget that he’d been some perverse combination of asshole and idiot to the only woman of quality he’d talked to in a decade. If you could call that talking. It was more like a verbal assault, which was illegal. She could have actually filed charges.

After the initial shock of realizing they were on the same plane, bound for the same destination, and destined to spend at least a couple of days in the general vicinity of each other, Mercy had studiously avoided looking his way.

Which was fine with him.

Really.

“What’s that you’re readin’?” Torn asked Mercy.

She turned the yellow manual over so he could see the cover.

He grinned. “The Manual! I have no’ seen one of those for, well, for a long time. How long have you been workin’ for The Order?”

“New hire.” She held up the book. “Trying to get up to speed. I just learned about the existence of vampire a week ago. I’ve been reviewing the data on the events of the past year, the viral ‘cure’ and all.” She put air quotes around ‘cure’ and smiled. Then she smoothly segued into a different subject like a social pro. “And you’re the grand poobah for this outing?”

He laughed. “Grand to be certain, but knights do no’ poobah. We’re equal in the eyes of The Order.” He looked around the plane at his team mates with pride. When his gaze fell on Glen, he halfheartedly threw a gesture in his direction. “Except for the kid. Equal is a ways down the road for him.”

Reaching over to look at the Field Training Manual cover again, Torn asked, “Are ye findin’ it interestin’ then?”

“Oh sure. If I’d found this on the street a week ago I would have thought it’d been dropped by somebody coming from a comic con.”

“And now?”

“Now I’m working on getting my mind to accept that I’m reading non-fiction.”

“How’s it goin’?”

“It’s a struggle.”

“Hmmm. Maybe I can help you with that.”

Torn stood up and raised his heather gray tee shirt, exposing peaches and cream skin stretched over washboard abs that would have been as flawless as his face except for a white scar that ran crisscross.

Unused to having beautiful elves stand in front of her and expose mouth watering abdomens suddenly and without invitation, she stared up at him with wide eyes and a certainty that she was even further out of her element than a mere education on vampire would suggest.

“See this?” He traced the length of the scar with a fingertip.

She nodded. Oh yes. Indeed she did see that.

“Guess how it came to be there,” he demanded.

She thought about refusing to guess, but decided that would be boring and she had vowed when she took the job offer from Black Swan that she had left boring Mercy behind. Forever.

“You were riding a skate-board through a copying office without a shirt on and fell onto the paper cutter when the blade was left open.”

His face split into a gorgeous grin that lit the entire jet cabin. “Good guess! But no. I was actually wearin’ a shirt when this happened. ‘Twas the result of a vamp who’d let his nails grow long and groady like Howard Hughes. Took a swipe at me with his ugly-ass jagged claws and preserved the incident, now frozen forever on my body. As you see.”

“Well, three things. First, what a shame your perfection is thus marred. Second, if I’m reading this manual correctly, it’s a good thing it wasn’t his teeth. Third, you know they make over-the-counter scar reduction cream that could have helped with that.”

He grinned, let his shirt fall and dropped back onto the couch next to her. “True, but usin’ the scar cream? ‘Tis no’ very manly now, is it? And I would no’ have a conversation starter.”

She stared at him. “In other words, you wouldn’t have a legitimate excuse to bare your assets to strangers who happen to be female.”

His grin morphed into a smile that was both seductive and conspiratorial. He leaned over and lowered his voice so that only she could hear. “You got me.”

She looked away, laughed and went back to her reading.

Torn slid down in a sexy devil-may-care slouch, stretched his arms over the back of the sofa behind Mercy’s head in a possessive pose and looked over at Raif to see if he was watching. Raif’s eyes were closed, but Torn could tell by the tension in his jaw that he’d seen every delicious moment, which made Torn chuckle to himself.

Mercy looked over. “Something funny?”

Torn turned back to her, his eyes going deliberately to her mouth and lingering there in an aggressively intimate display. “I was just thinkin’ about my partner over there nappin’ in the nappy chair. He told me he had the pleasure of meetin’ you. Briefly.”

She stiffened visibly and put the book down in her lap, but not before casting a glance toward Raif’s form that was reclined if not relaxed. What Torn saw there in the instant of that flicker was a mixture of embarrassment and outrage. But there was also something more than just wounded pride. Just as he’d suspected.

You could say a lot of things about Torrent Finngarick, but he did know women.

Glen broke up the quiet by raising his voice so that everybody could hear him. He was waving a tour guide in the air. “Hey! Let’s try to finish this up fast so we can do a little sightseeing before we have to head back.”

Torn gave him a blank stare as did Gun, who’d been standing in the galley chatting up the flight attendant. Raif opened one eye before crossing his arms over his midsection and renewing his determination to sleep.

Glen didn’t seem fazed that no one responded. He simply resumed his research on tour destinations.

Torn looked at Mercy, who looked at Glen and said, “Sounds good to me.”

The elf smiled at her in such an indulgent and amused way that, for just a second, she was tempted to give him a chance at a one nighter. That thought took her gaze in Raif’s direction like he was a magnet. Believing that she could look him over without being observed, she let her eyes move slowly over the length of him, from the messy jet black hair to the stubble on his jaw past the partially visible tattoo on his bicep down to the frayed hems of his jeans, all the way to the square toed boots underneath.

She almost jumped when Glen announced that, “They say that there’s history underneath every rock in Sozopol. Turn one over and you’ll find something left by Greeks, Romans, Thracians, Slavs, Ottomans or Proto-Bulgarians. That’s a quote!”

Raif’s eyes opened a slit and caught her staring, but not for long. She quickly looked away with a telltale flush of embarrassment creeping up her neck toward her cheeks.

Mercy had done her fair share of traveling. It went with her occupation of choice, but she’d never come close to the way The Order transported their personnel from place to place. That rich-and-famous level of luxury was a new experience.

When Pietra, the flight attendant, wheeled out an entire standing prime rib on a rolling butcher block, Mercy gaped.

“What’s the matter?” Torn asked.

“I didn’t even know it was possible to cook prime rib on a plane.”

Torn laughed. “Well, you ought to get out more.” He winked.

Pietra cut the prime rib and served it at the booth-style seating in the front of the plane that could be used for dining or cards. She served a Caesar salad that was the best Mercy had ever tasted along with baskets of popover rolls just out of the oven and smelling divine.

Mercy sat next to Torn with Gun and Glen across from them. Raif sat in the other booth, across the aisle, by himself. Having had the experience of once being the new kid at school, the seating arrangement made her uncomfortable. She wouldn’t want her worst enemy to feel ostracized, which probably meant she didn’t have any real enemies. When she couldn’t stand it any longer, she decided to say something.

“Perhaps someone should go sit with Mr. Nightsong.”

The three men looked across the aisle. Gun and Torn just laughed like it was a ridiculous notion, but Glen said, “Would it make you feel better if I go sit with him?”

“Well,” she hedged, “I think it would be nice.”

Without another word Glen picked up food and paraphernalia and moved across the aisle. When he started to set his plate down across the table, Raif didn’t look up, but said, “Fuck off.”

Glen promptly picked up his dinner setting and moved back to his original spot. He smiled at Mercy. “Miss me? The gentleman declines and says he prefers to keep his own company this evening.”

She returned his good-natured smile, nodded her head and, as thanks, passed him her portion of chocolate mousse that had just been delivered. While she was scowling at Raif, Torn leaned close and said, “Sir Nightsong.”

She looked back at him. “What?”

“You called him Mr. Nightsong. When you’re in the company of The Order, ‘tis Sir Nightsong.”

“Oh. Of course.” She glanced back across the aisle.

“May seem silly to someone who is new to our conventions. The formal observance of service is a small thin’, but believe me, he’s earned it.”

She looked at Torn. “Respect you mean? He’s earned respect?”

“Oh, aye.” Torn caught Pietra’s eye. “Pee, my darlin’, will ye be kind enough to pour an Irish whiskey as a chaser for this lovely puddin’?”

She smiled. “You know perfectly well that it’s a mousse, Sir Luscious. And, yes, I will bring your nectar of gods.”

Mercy looked across the table and crossed her eyes while mouthing, “Sir Luscious.”

Gun and Glen rewarded her with a big laugh. Smiling at the shared joke she looked across the aisle and came face to face in a stare with Sir Nightsong. The pale color of his blue irises was so arresting and the intensity of his gaze was so electrifying, she couldn’t make herself look away. She had a brief impression of a mouse being held spellbound by a snake.

When she opened her mouth to say something, his eyes dropped to her lips before coming back to her eyes. “I guess we’re going to be stuck together for a couple of days. So let’s be grown up and have a truce. I’ll go first. I apologize for calling you a liar, Sir Nightsong. I guess it turns out that you really are a vampire hunter.”

He desperately wanted to say something. He knew he should say something. All those days that he’d aimlessly loitered around a four square block area of New York he had rehearsed what he was going to say a thousand times. Then he had his chance. There it was. She was staring at him with those big liquid eyes waiting. Waiting. Waiting. While he was dumbstruck.

Pietra stepped in between them to clear Raif’s dishes and, in doing so, broke the visual connection.

Mercy realized that her olive branch had been rejected with Raif’s abject silence. In some ways it was worse than telling Glen to, “Fuck off.”

She was grateful that Pietra’s body hid from view the fact that her face and neck had gone chameleon, perfectly reflecting the red color of her humiliation. It only took an instant to make a vow that the great fiery pit would freeze over before she gave him another chance to be decent.

When Pietra left with Raif’s dishes, Mercy had turned away and was again involved in conversation with her dinner companions. He’d lost the chance to fake a semblance of civilized behavior. He hadn’t left the impression of looking dumbstruck. He’d left the impression of being an asshole. He thought about slapping himself, but it was too late for that, too. It would just raise further questions about his sanity.

Glen was reading from the guide book. “There’s a reserve habitat for rare animal species. The reserve is inhabited by fifty types of mammals: noble deer and lopatar – deer, roes, muflons, foxes, jackals, otters and colonies of bats live in the rock caves. The extinct species of mammals are the bear, the lynx and the monk seal.”

“I’d go with you if it can be worked out, Glen. I’ve never taken much time for sightseeing when traveling. It’s always about the destination and not the journey. I think it would be fun and I haven’t been to a zoo in twenty years.”

“It’s not a zoo! It’s a reserve habitat. Apples and oranges. Think there’s a rare Bulgarian animal tee shirt?”

She laughed. “Let’s find out.”

Eavesdropping on the conversation across the aisle, Raif rolled his eyes and took a sip of the black coffee Pietra had just poured. He was starting to believe that every dick on the plane was a rival. Even the kid. He was thinking that it got dark fast when you were flying away from the sun. And she seemed easy to talk to. He’d never liked flying over oceans at night. How he wished he had found out how easy she was to talk to by talking to her instead of sitting on the other side of the jet sneaking an eavesdrop. He was wishing he’d asked for Benadryl instead of coffee when he heard the rustle next to him. Mercy had stood to return to the lounge seating and left a hint of perfume behind when she passed.

After dinner Mercy had decided to take advantage of one of the luxurious sleeping compartments in the rear. The few hours she could grab in what was left of the nine hour flight would come in handy because the next day would be a full day. Maybe the most important day of her archeological career, even if the work was never published or professionally recognized in any way.

She woke when Pietra announced they were landing. Between the steady vibration of movement and the engine noise, she’d conked out and slept hard. She sat up thanking the gods for the partition that shielded her from being seen sleeping with her mouth open or drooling.

Sitting up and angling her body toward the exterior wall, she looked out the window. Because of the seven hour time difference, the sunrise was just beginning, enough that she could make out the landing strips with farmland on one side and a Black Sea village on the other.

Mercy insisted on supervising the transfer of her equipment from the plane. The Order had provided two identical Audi sedans. The older members of Z Team quickly decided that Glen would drive the car with all the luggage and equipment while the other three and their assignment rode together. Glen seemed to understand that the new guy gets the shit jobs and was okay with it. He took the keys to the equipment car good-naturedly.

Torn grabbed the keys to the people car. “I’ll drive.”

“Shotgun,” Gun said. “I’ll navigate.”

“Welcome to this century, Gunnar. We do no’ need a navigator. The car has navigation.”

“Don’t like the navigator angle? Okay. How about this? I get shotgun because I have long legs.”

“I don’t mind sitting in the back,” Mercy said.

Torn turned to Raif with an especially bright twinkle in his eye. “I guess you’re stuck sittin’ next to her, brother.”

Raif shrugged as if to say he didn’t care, that he’d done worse.

CHAPTER 15

It’s an orangeade sky. Always it’s some other guy.

Sozopol, Bulgaria

Not once during the entire drive did Raif look over at Mercy. He stared out his window as if he’d never witnessed anything as fascinating as farming.

Sozopol turned out to be a picturesque fishing town on the coast of the Black Sea, located on a peninsula that boasted one of the most beautiful coves and beaches anywhere in the world. And, just as they say, build a gorgeous beach and resorts are sure to follow. The marina claimed three hundred thirty berths to house yachts and sail craft for the well-heeled.

The ancient Bronze Age town had been rededicated to Apollo by 7th century BCE Greeks. They erected a temple and a statue forty-five feet tall when they renamed it Apollonia. For centuries after that it thrived as a stop on the trade route of sailing vessels, part of the flow of commerce between Rhodes, Corinth, Athens, and Thracian territories. It was vibrant with culture and art, which meant it was also rich and populous.

The Order didn’t own a property in Sozopol, but there was a five star hotel, a very pretty five story pink building with white columns overlooking the sea. The exterior was 1940s. The interior was Euromodern.

The little band of paranormal investigator and her escorts was delighted to learn that there was an old-world elegant restaurant and a Russian chef who specialized in Mediterranean fare and sushi – of all things. Some of the contingent were more impressed to find out that there were five bars. So far as Torn was concerned that meant the hotel had its priorities straight.

At the height of the season the place was probably hopping, but at that time of year it was practically deserted. When Mercy asked if they would need dinner reservations, the desk clerk laughed.

After checking in, Mercy just had enough time to shake her clothes out and hang the ones that mattered before the hotel phone rang beside the bed.

“Dr. Renaux?”

“Yes.”

“You have guests asking for permission to speak with you on the desk phone. Will you accept the call?”

“Certainly. Put them on.”

“Dr. Renaux?” asked a new male voice.

“Yes,” she said again.

“This is Professor Yanev from Sofia University and the Minister Igvanotof. We’d like to welcome you personally and perhaps discuss your visit. In private if possible. Would it be inappropriate to ask to come to your room?”

“Are your intentions honorable?” She took the pause in dialogue to mean that either the caller didn’t get the joke or his intentions were not honorable. Either way, she was going to find out. “Never mind. It was a poor attempt at humor.”

“Oh,” he chuckled. “You Americans. Always joking.”

“Yes. We’re all comedians. I’m in Room 316.”

“We shall be at Room 316 momentarily.”

Mercy hung up the phone and turned to almost run into Glen who was sharing a connecting room with Gunnar.

“Who was that?” he asked.

“A government representative and an academic. They want to greet me and talk about going to the site. They’re on the way up.”

Gun came closer and leaned on the door jamb separating the two rooms.

“On the way up?” Glen gaped at her.

“Yes. They want to talk in private. Given what I’ve learned about The Order that doesn’t seem either unusual or unreasonable.”

“No, but you gave them your room number?”

“Well, yes. How else would you expect them to find me?”

“How would we expect them to find you?”

“Do you have a repeating problem, Glen?”

“Do you have an absentminded professor problem, Dr. Renaux?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s supposed to mean this. How are you thinking we’re going to protect you if you give out your room number to any stranger who calls up and asks for it?”

She looked thoughtful. “I see what you mean.”

“Normally I wouldn’t mention this, but I get the feeling you care about other people, so I’m going to share. You didn’t just endanger yourself, but us. We could have been caught unaware.” She just blinked in response, but he definitely had her attention. He turned to Gun. “Get Raif and Torn. Let’s make sure this is up and up.” Gun nodded and moved off. Glen looked at Mercy and softened his tone a notch. “It’s our job to keep you safe, but you have to be willing to help us out with that. Just a little. Right?”

She nodded. “You are right. Of course. I’ve never been in a situation where I needed protection. I just didn’t think about…”

“You’re a smart lady and I’m sure you catch on quick. Don’t take any phone calls unless one of us is with you. Don’t give out your location to anybody unless we give the okay. Always leave the door between us cracked open so we can be aware of what’s going on in here.”

“Okay.”

When the welcome committee arrived on the third floor, Raif and Torn were waiting in the hallway outside Mercy’s room while Glen and Gun waited inside. As the two Bulgarians approached they could see that two rather intimidating individuals were sizing them up. They stopped at 316 and looked over to verify the number on the door.

Just as one of them reached up to knock, Raif and Torn took one each and shoved them against the wall. They were frisked thoroughly, efficiently, and perhaps with more roughness than was necessary.

When they were released, the one with the stupid hat said something in Bulgarian that was most likely about his assailant and most probably uncomplimentary. Both men made readjustments to the business suits they were wearing and looked at Raif and Torn with as much huffiness as they dared.

Without taking his eyes away from them, Torn reached over and tapped on the door with his knuckles. Glen stood in front of Mercy while Gunnar opened the door. Torn’s nod was a signal to let the visitors enter.

As Mercy was trying to look around Glen to see what was going on, Glen stepped aside. The two visitors were visibly flustered.

“Hello,” she said. “I’m Dr. Renaux. Not much to offer in the way of seating, but please.” She gestured toward the chairs.

They sat in the only two chairs, while Mercy sat on the end of the bed.

“Dr. Renaux. Delighted to meet you.” His glance at the four knights made the pleasantry sound sarcastic. “I’m Yanev, professor of archeology at Sofia University. And this is the Minister Igvanotof.”

The Minister gave a curt nod dripping with displeasure.

Glen and Gunnar made no move to leave, but Raif and Torn were satisfied that the other two could handle the suits so they backed out and closed the door.

She’d received a briefing about her mission. Everyone on the trip was there for a reason and had a part to play. She’d been given instructions to look over the site carefully, listen to the claims, and make a determination as to their validity. The knights had been given much simpler and more concise orders. Escort Dr. Renaux and protect her if necessary.

After assessing the situation and deciding they wouldn’t be needed further for Dr. Renaux’s meeting, Raif and Torn left to explore the hotel. To a Black Swan knight that meant searching out every conceivable security vulnerability, every possible escape route, and every bar. When the first two tasks were complete, it didn’t take them long to find out that one of the five bars was open for business.

In Mercy’s suite, Professor Yanev was attempting to persuade her that they were prepared to be attentive to her every need or request. Yanev was fortyish, with weathered skin, bright intelligent dark eyes and extraordinarily white teeth, which were revealed often once he began to relax.

“Tomorrow morning, if that is suitable to you, we will travel to the site and I will give you guidance,” he said smiling.

“Professor Yanev…”

“Please, just Yanev.”

“All right. Yanev. If there’s not time to go today, then tomorrow morning works for me. What time do you have in mind?”

Yanev looked at the Minister Igvanotof and said something. The other man shook his head as he answered. When Yanev looked at her again, he said, “I will be at your disposal.”

It seemed they hadn’t done any research on Dr. Renaux and just assumed that she didn’t speak Bulgarian. What the Minister had actually said was that the earlier they got started the sooner they’d be rid of her and her bulky boys.

“That’s very accommodating. How about eight thirty?”

Yanev smiled his very whitest smile. “Yes. Eight thirty outside the front entrance. While we are here, let me ask. Do you have any questions?”

“As a matter of fact I do.” Yanev gestured with his head so she continued. “Is the site closed to the public?”

“It is and has been since the discovery.”

“Very well. Will there be others there in an official government capacity? Or perhaps others with academic license?”

He looked at Minister Igvanotof, said something, and waited for the answer. The Minister’s eyes found Mercy’s and he stared at her like he was wondering why she asked the question.

“The Minister says that all access was mysteriously and suddenly closed to all but those who work for your organization. The area is closely guarded, but once inside, there will be no one else present. Other than myself, if you should wish me to remain.”

Mercy rewarded her visitors with a gracious smile. “Excellent. I’m so pleased to hear it.”

She was also pleased with her acting ability, thinking she hadn’t given away, on any level, the fact that the Minister had said that no one of import would be there either before she arrived or during her visit. Mercy was thinking his title should be Minister of Snark. She was tempted to say goodbye in Bulgarian, but the fun of that wouldn’t eclipse the intel to be gained by pretending ignorance of the language.

When they left, Glen asked, “Did that go the way you wanted?”

“Yes. More or less. They don’t know I understand the language, so the Minister was surely much freer with his low opinion of me than he might have been otherwise.”

“Ouch,” Glen grinned. “They didn’t look you up.”

She shook her head slowly. “Hmmm hmm. Not even the easy stuff. The info about how many languages I speak usually comes up pretty close to the top on any search of Dr. Renaux.”

Glen grinned bigger. “You Giggled yourself.”

Mercy laughed. “I did.”

“Was that fun?”

“Of course. Ever done it?”

“No. Black Swan knights don’t exist. Didn’t you know that?”

“Do now.”

“So we’ve got some time to burn before dinner. You busy? We could play Mad Fowl.”

“Thanks,” she chuckled. “I’ll take a rain check. I want to be ready for tomorrow. I’m as excited and anxious as a kid before a dance recital. So I’m going to take a toes-up until time for dinner.”

“Okay. Like I told you, I’m going to leave the adjoining door open a crack. We’ll be quiet so you can nap, but… Do not leave your suite. Do not open your door - the one to the hallway. If you need something, come get one of us. If you hear something, yell. Got it?”

“Got it. Yell if I hear something. Knock if I need something.”

“Drinks downstairs at six o’clock. I hear the sunset hour is still pretty even looking east, out to sea.”

“Spoken like a dedicated tourist. Okay. Meet you downstairs at six.”

Glen turned, searching her face for a clue as to whether she was joking or not. She held her straight face in place long enough to convince him that she was serious. When he summoned some patience and opened his mouth to explain why she couldn’t do that without violating one of the rules, she gave him a gotcha smile.

“You gonna be trouble?” he asked.

Mercy shook her head as she laughed softly. “No, sir. Trouble is the very last thing I’ve ever been. In my life.”

“Finding that hard to believe, Doc.”

“Doc?” She found the idea of being called ‘doc’ by someone the age of one of her students incredulous. At the same time she fell in love with both the idea behind it and the informality of it.

“You don’t really expect me to call you Dr. Renaux?”

She shook her head again and smiled. “No. Doc is fine.”

Mercy laid down on top of the covers of the double bed and quickly fell into the deepest sleep she could remember. She woke after a couple of hours and was a little disoriented at first. When she realized how long and how soundly she’d slept, she wondered if it was because, subconsciously, she knew she was protected and completely safe.

She heard the hum of low voices coming from the next room and peeked through the crack in the door. Glen appeared to be trying to teach Gun some card tricks. Mercy smiled to herself thinking the kid was quite a character. She slipped into the bathroom and took a bath that was quick, but hot and relaxing then pulled on jeans and an apricot sweater of the shade that did marvelous things for auburn coloring.

When she was ready, she tapped on the adjoining door.

“Open!” She swung the door wide enough to see the two of them. “You ready?” Glen’s upbeat personality was hard to resist.

“It is I. Professor Ready.”

“Let’s do it then. One spectacular sundown coming up.”

The five of them were sitting inside the terrace room looking at the sunset toward the east over the water.

“Nice sundown.” As Torn stretched his long legs out in front of him, he winked at Mercy knowing her eyes couldn’t help but be drawn to the movement of his body.

She flushed with a slight embarrassment at having been caught looking at his crotch. Raif saw the exchange and cursed under his breath, wishing he could tase his partner’s naked balls while he stood with his feet in a tub of water. Thinking about that made his face break into a grin.

Torn looked curious. “What’s so funny?”

Raif shook his head. “Private thoughts.”

As Torn’s comment seeped into her consciousness, Mercy looked over the horizon and had to agree. Though the actual sunset was behind them, the last of the light painted the eastern sky with fiery streaks of orange and yellow fading into charcoal gray where the water met the sky.

“You’re right about the view. It’s an orangeade sky.”

“What’s an orangeade?”

Raif was glad Gunnar asked the question. He wanted to hear the answer, but didn’t want to openly express that much interest in what the babe thought.

“Hmmm.” She finished her swallow of wine cooler. “I did my undergrad at Duke. My roommate, Squoozie, was from Texas. Down there they have a soda called Orangeade. When she drove her car to school every Fall, she’d fill it up with cases of Orangeade and have her clothes shipped.” Mercy chuckled as she seemed to be recalling good times.

Glen had perked up when she said her roommate’s name. “Her last name wouldn’t be Caelian, would it?”

Mercy’s eyes widened. “Yes! How did you know that?”

“Well, to be fair, how many Squoozies from Texas could there really be? I know her brother. He works for Black Swan.”

“Kay?” Torn asked.

“The same,” said Glen.

“Small world.” Torn grasped the hurricane glass they had brought his margarita in and took a drink. In a simultaneous flash of impressive coordination, Torn retracted his legs, sat up, and spewed alcoholic beverage on the inner terrace floor. Then half-yelled a disgusted, “Aaah.”

“Serves you right for ordering a margarita in a French owned Bulgarian hotel, dumb ass.” Gunnar laughed and Raif joined him, enjoying the boorish spectacle more than he should. “At least you managed to aim away from us for a change. The last time… Chinese restaurant in Toronto, wasn’t it? …I walked away with a mixture of tequila and elf spit all over my front.” Gunnar turned to Glen chuckling and slapped him on the back. “Come to think of it, you should have seen what happened the first time the young werewolf had black beer! That time it was Torn who was getting the old bar towel wipe down.”

Mercy’s gaze snapped to Glen. “Werewolf?”

“Blah.” Torn stuck out his tongue like he thought airing it out would take the offending taste away. “What would you be doin’ if you had somethin’ unbelievably disgustin’ in your mouth?”

Torn knew exactly what Raif and Gunnar were thinking by the way they looked down at their shoes and smiled without saying a word. He was glad they both decided on the polite choice - keeping that thought to themselves.

“You’re not ready for civilized company, brother.” Gunnar glanced at Mercy and gave him a reproving look.

Torn looked at Mercy. “Aye. ‘Tis true enough. Beg your forgiveness, my lady.”

Mercy laughed partly because of the ‘lady’ reference and partly because the beautiful elf was bursting with sexual ardor and magnetism powerful enough to charm the clothes off a girl in public before she even knew she was undressing. The werewolf thing was probably an inside joke.

Glen had been looking at his guide book. “Listen to this. The Beglik Tash. The unique Thracian sanctuary Beglik Tash was discovered in 2003, only thirty km south of Sozopol. It’s the earliest Thracian megalith sanctuary along the Black Sea coast. Research has proven that there’s been constant human occupation since the end of the Bronze age. It’s basically a cult temple to fertility.”

He put the guide book down. “Oh come on. We have to go! Haven’t you always wanted to stand in the middle of an ancient fertility temple?”

Gun and Torn looked at each other and burst into laughter. Mercy noticed that Raif just looked away.

When Torn quieted, he said, “No, Glen, I can no’ say that I have always wanted that. Nor can I begin to understand why you would want that. Most of the handsome virile lads I know are wantin’ to avoid fertility at any cost.” He punctuated that with a wink thrown Mercy’s way. She turned her head and worked at hiding a smile because she didn’t want Glen to think she was laughing at him.

“Yeah?” Glen said. “Well, most of the handsome virile lads you know don’t have two brain cells to rub together.”

Torn chuckled. “True enough, younger brother. You’ve go’ me there.”

CHAPTER 16

BLACK SWAN FIELD TRAINING MANUAL Chapter 28, #17

Hunter Division personnel are expected to be flexible of body and mind. At times resourcefulness may be a knight’s greatest asset. The ability to improvise when necessary is a trait highly prized by The Order.

When it came down to the first night that Storm was joining patrol rotation, Litha had come to the conclusion that she just couldn’t do it. She couldn’t construct a rationalization big enough or intricate enough or delusional enough to justify spying on her husband. But by the time the dreaded day of first patrol after retirement rolled around, she’d calmed down enough to be at peace with the fact that she’d fallen in love with a famous vampire hunter, who might just have a couple more hunts left in him. After all, he wasn’t yet thirty years old. On the one hand, she thought, if he was a surgeon, he’d still be years away from beginning his career. On the other hand, if he was a pro athlete, he’d be long washed up and put out to dry.

Kay gave Storm an amused look. “In some ways this feels more familiar than watching TV with my wife.”

They were separating from Ram and Rev, going opposite ways in an alley. Storm looked back over his shoulder at Ram and Rev walking away. On a whim he called out, “Sol!”

Without hesitation, Rev turned and said, “Yeah?” The four of them stood frozen, Storm and Rev staring at each other, Kay and Ram looking back and forth between the two.

Let it never be said that Ram didn’t know how to handle a situation delicately. “What the fuck, Stormy?”

“You know, that’s a good question, Ram. And well put.” Storm didn’t take his eyes off Rev. “Something you want to tell us?”

Rev pursed his lips before growling. “No.”

“You sure?”

“You gone hard of hearing?”

Storm’s gaze was a concentrated challenge, pinning Rev in place, but he moved in close enough for quiet conversation.

“How about clueing us in, brother?” Kay was as calm as the eye of a hurricane as he nudged Storm. “What’s going on here?”

“Has it seemed to you that there are things about the new Sovereign that seem familiar? Eerily so?”

“Like what?” Ram asked as he eyed Rev from top to bottom.

“Oh, like the fact that he smokes the same brand of Turkish cigars that Sol used to smoke. And lights them with an old school fluid lighter. Then he puts the lighter down in front of him and turns it around and around the same way Sol used to.” Kay turned his attention toward Rev and began regarding him with increased interest. “How about the way he screws up his mouth when he’s aggravated or the way he steeples his fingers when he’s making a decision?”

Rev lifted his chin in defiance and narrowed his eyes at Storm. “And let’s not forget the fact that he took a bead on Farnsworth about thirty seconds after arriving at Jefferson Unit. Doesn’t it strike you as a little strange that he handles Sol’s job like he knows what he’s doing? No. Not like he knows what he’s doing. Like he’s done it before!”

Ram eased around in front of Rev so that the three veteran members of B Team appeared united as the inquisitors they had just become. They stood in a dimly lit alley with accusation hanging in the air, waiting for Rev to answer.

“Your imagination’s just got the better of you, Sir Storm.”

“There! Right there. I never met another knight who called me Sir Storm. But Sol did.” Storm glanced at Kay. “All the time. Called me Mr. Storm when I was a kid. Switched to Sir Storm when I was inducted.” He stepped closer to Rev. “When I called Sol’s name, you turned around like you’d been answering to that name your whole life.”

Ram and Kay were giving Rev looks that said the questions weren’t going to go away just by staring Storm down. Finally Rev replied with the cool of an iceberg. “So what are you saying? Exactly? That I’m a body snatcher?”

“What I’m doing right now is asking questions.”

“I don’t have answers for you.”

“Is that because you don’t have an answer or because you can’t answer?” Rev gave nothing away. Storm blinked twice rapidly. “Well, then there’s no harm in sharing this with Simon and the Council.”

“NO!” Rev’s answer was a little too forceful and a little too quick.

“Start talking.”

Rev blew out a breath and looked around at the alley. ”Let’s go sit down somewhere private.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll buy a round of drinks and tell you a story. Not about me, mind you. A story about a guy I heard of.”

Rev hated the suspicious glances he caught in his peripheral vision as they walked in silence to the basement bar around the corner. Harry’s was dark and quiet. Cozy in a masculine sort of way with oak beams and big comfortable red leather booths. And they knew it well because it was also the sort of place where vampire liked to hang out when they’d hunted successfully and were high on some girl’s warm, rich Type O.

All four quickly scanned the room, as only veteran hunters would do. Within fifteen seconds any one of the four could have taken a pop quiz on how many people occupied the room, where they were, what they were doing, and something about what they looked like. Complimentary or not.

Ram veered off from the team and headed straight to the bar. He told them to pour four Irish whiskeys. The other three left room for him at one end of a big curved corner booth. He noticed they weren’t talking. Just waiting.

“Spirits on the way,” he said, sliding in.

Storm looked at Rev. “So? You were going to tell us a story? About a guy?”

Rev looked around the room knowing that stalling was futile. He’d used every step of the walk between the alley and the bar trying to decide the best way to get the knights to move on to another subject without losing claim to the fine young body he currently occupied. Of course, he knew they’d be pit bulls going for a bone until they were satisfied.

The bartender’s young helper arrived with a tray and began setting glasses in front of them. When he was gone, Storm turned to Rev. “Well?”

Rev looked up, “What was the question?”

Storm narrowed his eyes. “Kay. Weren’t you in my interrogation class?”

“I think so,” Kay said. “We were fifteen maybe? What about it?”

“Do you remember them teaching us that if a subject asked to have the question repeated it meant that they were stalling so they had time to work on the lie that they were about to tell?”

Kay looked at Rev with speculation. “You know, since you mention it, I do remember that.”

Rev took in a big breath and let it out forcefully. “All right, but don’t get bent out of shape about the back story. I have to set the stage.”

“Set the stage,” Storm said drily. Rev nodded. “Rammel. Are you keeping an eye on the patrons sharing this fine establishment?”

“On guard.” Ram’s seat on the end of the booth had the best view of the door and the room in general.

Looking back at Rev, Storm said, “By all means then, set the stage.”

“Do you believe in the afterlife?”

Storm and Kay exchanged glances. Ram said, “Great Paddy.”

Rev looked at Ram with lines formed between his brows. “Is that an answer?”

“Aye. O’course.”

“Okay. I’ll play along,” Storm said. “I wouldn’t say I ‘believe’, but I would say I’m keeping an open mind.”

Rev looked at Kay who said, “No. I think Elora’s fairy stories are likelier.”

“Elftales,” Ram corrected Kay with a small scowl forming between his brows. There might be a new politically correct way to think of his brother-in-law’s people, but old bias dies hard.

“Whatever,” Kay said. “We’re just a walking mass of electrical impulses. When the plug is pulled, we’re done.”

“Kind of a bleak outlook.” Rev was looking at Kay like he was surprised to hear that view coming from the big berserker.

“Works for me. So we’re really going to debate mythology?”

“One person’s mythology is somebody else’s religion.”

Kay opened his mouth to respond, but Storm cut him off. “Enough. Let’s get to the story. About a guy? Remember?”

“Yes. It’s related. So here goes.

“There was a guy who died and went to the, uh, afterlife. And it was nice enough, but he couldn’t enjoy it because he’d left unfinished business. Serious unfinished business.” Rev paused for a minute for that to soak in. “So he started kicking up a fuss. At first the people in charge ignored him, told him to take another hit of feel good and try to relax into the new digs. They said he’d adjust soon enough and everything would be hunky dory.”

Rev looked around the table. The knights were focused on what he was saying and waiting for him to get to the part where he started to either make sense or relate to any situation they could imagine.

“Here’s the thing though. Time went by and he didn’t adjust or relax. Just the opposite, in fact. The people who were trying to enjoy their ‘reward’, ” he put the word ‘reward’ in air quotes, “started complaining that he was disturbing them.”

Rev rolled his eyes like he was experiencing a memory. “Well, how many times can you do the hokey pokey? Really!”

He looked around the other three knights and noticed they were looking wary.

“Okay. Let’s just say that this guy didn’t fit in. At all. And he was getting a reputation as a troublemaker, which was fine with him because that was his plan. He hoped that, if he raised enough stink, they’d send him back where he belonged.” Rev looked around the table. “And that’s what happened. End of story.”

Storm, Ram, and Kay looked back and forth between themselves for a minute.

“End of story?” Storm asked.

“Yes.”

“But you said he died.”

“Yes.” Rev looked straight into Storm’s eyes like he was trying to will him to understand.

Ram shook his head, said, “Fuck,” then followed a big swallow of whiskey with an exaggerated hiss.

“Look. I’m trying to work with you here, but you’re not giving us much. How is this guy going to be sent back if his body is…” Storm stopped midsentence. His eyes widened momentarily and then he started shaking his head.

“What?” Ram asked. Storm continued to stare at Rev like he’d seen a ghost. Ram turned to Kay. “What?”

Kay downed his whiskey in one drink and said, “If I’m following, I think the implication is that an old Sovereign might occupy a new Sovereign’s body if he went to heaven and raised hel.”

Ram’s head jerked to Rev and his eyes flicked over the part of his body that could be seen above the table.

Storm put his elbows on the table and leaned in. “That’s some story.” Rev nodded. “I guess the guy was told the deal came with conditions?”

“Yes.” A single blink was the only movement in Rev’s face.

“And I’m going to hazard a guess that one of those conditions was that the guy wasn’t to tell anybody.”

Rev shrugged. “That’s what I heard.”

Kay looked at Storm with open-mouthed astonishment. “You’re not buying this. It’s preposterous!”

Storm studied Kay for a minute, then lowered his voice. “That word isn’t in Black Swan vocabulary.” Kay pulled back and frowned. “And you know it.”

“So,” Ram started, “would that guy be wearin’ flesh belongin’ to some other poor bastard?”

Rev looked up and met Ram’s gaze. “The other poor bastard was done with the mortal coil, but it was fresh enough to be reparable by the powers that be.”

“Great Fuckin’ Paddy,” Ram said under his breath while looking a little horrified. “You mean they can just hand your body off like a used car?”

Storm’s shoulders were raised by the big breath he inhaled and let out. “There’s no rule against answering questions is there?”

“Not if they’re not specific,” Rev answered.

“I was picked up at my parents’ house and driven to the San Francisco unit. You know what kind of car I arrived in?”

As Rev listened to the question, his face softened. He smiled at Storm with a fondness that made him seem so familiar. “I’ll make a guess and say it was a sedan.”

The tension that Ram and Kay had been holding dissolved into laughter and comfortable slumping into the leather seat.

Ram looked at Kay and repeated, “A sedan!” through chuckles.

As Storm watched Rev slowly rotate the whiskey tumbler on the table in front of him, he felt a twinge of disappointment grip his heart. He realized that, on some unconscious level, he’d been hoping that the answer would be the opposite of Occam’s Razor. That, instead of the simplest explanation being the right one, the most farfetched and wholly unbelievable explanation would be the truth of it.

Rev didn’t react to Ram’s and Kay’s ridicule. He just continued to stare at the glass he was turning. Almost too quietly to be heard, he said, “Yeah. I’m guessing sedan. A navy blue DeSoto.” He raised his eyes to Storm, who didn’t have enough warning to stop the emotions that rushed forward. Before he could shut it down, his eyes had started to water.

Kay and Ram, whose ridicule had stopped abruptly with the very specific naming of the vehicle, both looked away from Storm to save him the embarrassment of being caught misting. Storm swiped at his eyes and sucked it up. “Wow.”

Some of the rigidity left Rev’s expression when he smiled and nodded. “The best education money can buy and that’s the best you have to offer?”

Kay looked at Storm. “You believe him?” It sounded more like an accusation than a question.

Storm ignored Kay. “Does Farnsworth know?”

Rev grinned so big it made Storm have second thoughts about his conclusion. “Let me put it this way. We’re engaged.”

“Great Fuckin’ Paddy.” Remembering that he was the designated watcher, Ram looked toward the door and made direct eye contact with one of two vampire, who had been scanning the room while deciding whether or not to stay. He forced himself to look away and pretend to be casual, but the vampire had detected the subtle way Ram’s body came to attention. That and the fact that the men occupying the corner booth fit the profile to a tee.

If he’d been a new vampire, the eye lock wouldn’t have been accidental. All the reports that had come in made it clear that the mutated virus had created much more aggressive behavior. In the past, when given a choice of fight or flight, vampire almost always chose flight. Not anymore.

The vamp who had caught Ram’s eye was seventy-five years old and had a strong preference for flight. Knowing how to recognize knights of the Black Swan was undoubtedly one of the reasons why he’d lived so long. Every vamp who made it to a one year anniversary had heard the stories, the legends, and been admonished with a list of things to look for, but some were able to control blood lust well enough to pay attention to surroundings. And some weren’t.

Black Swan Knights travel in packs of four. Sometimes they separate into pairs, but one pair will never be very far away from the other – usually within earshot. They tend to stand out from the larger population, partly because they are at the peak of physical perfection and fitness, but also because they cannot help but exude an air of danger or warning.

As Ram turned back to the group, he picked up his whiskey glass and tapped it lightly on the table three times to get the attention of the others. He lowered his voice.

“Do no’ look at the door. Two biters on the premises and I’m thinkin’ one has made us. Get ready for a run down. If they go they’re goin’ to have a jump on us.”

Storm casually leaned over to remove his wallet from his pocket. He withdrew a large bill, but barely had time to throw it on the table when the vamps bolted. Ram and Kay were on the outer edges of the booth. They both moved fast, but Ram, being smaller and lighter, was faster.

As it happened, four blocks away at 42nd and 7th, three trainees were enjoying a rec night away from Jefferson Unit. Kristoph Falcon, Rolfe Wakenmann, and new transferee, Sinclair Harvest, were sitting at a deli window table, eating sandwiches piled outrageously high with meat, enough for a small, normal family to make a meal of.

Falcon was getting more satisfaction than he should out of telling Sin all about Wakey having to read romantic poems to half the trainees as part of a punishment for disrespecting someone’s sexual preference. Out loud.

During a break in the conversation, Falcon happened to be looking out the window and thinking that punishment isn’t always bad. He and Wakey had impressed the shit out of Sin when the Whister pilots had taken a back seat and let the two of them fly the trip to Manhattan.

Anybody who doesn’t believe in fate either isn’t very old or hasn’t been paying attention. Because it was at that moment, when Falcon had looked away from the other boys, that he saw two figures run past on the sidewalk just on the other side of the glass. That alone may not have been extraordinary or remarkable for midtown Manhattan. What credited the incident with the hand of fate was the fact that one of the vampire looked straight into Kris Falcon’s eyes during the split second they ran past. It took less time than that for Falcon to register what he’d seen. Some classes were more worthy of his attention than others.

He stood up so fast he knocked his chair over. Sin and Wakey looked at him like he was possessed until he said the word vampire without moving his lips, like a ventriloquist.

Who knows what would have happened had it not been for the history of knights that came before? Perhaps things would have gone differently, but the fact was that every trainee had heard the story of how Elora Laiken had slain a vampire with a toothpick. Perhaps that story sat on the edge of every trainee’s consciousness. No one can ever know for sure.

All we do know is that, on the way to the exit that night, Falcon reached out and grabbed the table’s wooden plaque holder that told the wait staff what number had been assigned to a diner’s order. It had a round base and a dowel extending straight up from the center like a flag pole.

Being a potential knight meant that Wakey was pretty fast on the uptake. He must have thought it was a pretty good idea because he grabbed another from the table by the door. The deli manager came out onto the sidewalk to yell after them about not paying the bill, but the boys’ focus had turned very single-minded.

Being young, conditioned like Olympic athletes, and without the muscular bulk of knights a decade older, they were lightning fast. Faster than the vampire who had hoped they were out of danger after they’d managed to lose two braces of Black Swan knights.

The vampire knew there were three kids running behind them, but never suspected they might be the goal because they knew the score. Hunters come in groups of two or four grown men, not three kids. So they ducked into an alley, as vampire so often do.

“How could we just lose them into thin air? Are we losin’ our touch then?” Ram was a little exasperated because he wasn’t used to letting prey get away. “Great Paddy. We’ve turned into heavy-hooved has-beens.”

“Don’t be melodramatic, Rammel. Everybody loses vamps now and then.”

“Noooooo. They do no’. ‘Tis ne’er happened to us before.”

Storm and Kay both gaped at Ram like he was nuts. “It happened the very night your wife did that stupid ass move with the toothpick. Remember? We left her alone to do a rundown and then... We. Lost. Them.”

Ram chewed on his lip. “Paddy! Unbunch the knickers, man. So maybe it happened one time.”

Kay just shook his head. “Nothing changes.”

“Let’s split up and take a look around. Three blocks on either side. What do you think?” Storm was so accustomed to making suggestions as to how B Team should proceed in the field that he didn’t even think about the fact that he was in the presence of an acting Sovereign and seriously outranked.

Before anyone responded, Rev’s phone vibrated against his hip. He looked at it and said, “It’s Mr. Barrock.”

Ram looked at Kay and mouthed, “Who?”

Opening the phone he said, “Farthing here.”

There were several pauses between which Rev alternated between staccato grunts and cursing under his breath. Finally he said, “We’re close by and on our way. Send clean up and we’ll take care of the rest.”

He ended the call, shoved the phone in his pocket and said, “Seems we’ve got a situation.”

Seven minutes later, Rev and three members of B Team arrived at the location where they’d been directed. Storm nodded at Kris and Wakey. He remembered them from the Battle for Jefferson Unit. Given the fact that they’d won medals protecting Elora and flying injured personnel away in a Whister, it would have been impossible to forget them. They nodded back.

“Well, gentlemen,” he said, feeling like he was channeling Sol. “What do we have here?”

They stepped away so that he could see the two corpses their bodies had been concealing. Both former vampire had strange sticks coming out of their chests with round wooden blocks on the end. Storm studied the phenomenon as best he could in the dim light.

Ram leaned over and asked with an incredulity thick as syrup. “Are those…?”

Wakey spoke up. “The little flag flyers for your deli order. Sir.”

“Great Paddy.”

Ram looked at Kay who deadpanned, “It seems we’ve stood and talked like this before.”

“That song is no’ from your era, Danny Disco.”

“It’s Disco Danny. Can you ever get it right, Rammel?”

“Who in Paddy’s name cares whether ‘tis fuckin’ Danny Disco or fuckin’ Disco Danny, berserker?”

“Knock it off,” Storm said before turning back to the boys. “You want to tell us what happened?”

“Aye,” Ram chimed in. “You kiddos got some ‘splainin’ to do.”

“Rammel! I said knock it off!” Storm was getting more insistent.

“Fine. Do no’ be goin’ berserk on us.” Ram smiled at Kay who eased into a wide stance and rolled his eyes.

“Well…” Wakey began.

“Before you start…” Storm glanced at Rev and then waved toward the trainees. “This is Mr. Falcon and Mr. Wakenmann. They won medals for heroism during the assassination attempt that destroyed Jefferson Unit. Or a large part of it.

“Why don’t you introduce your friend?”

Kris and Wakey both looked at Sin like they hadn’t seen him before. Kris finally spoke up. “Sinclair Harvest, sir.”

Kris looked back at Storm. “I think he already knows who all of you are.” Sin’s head nodded up and down. He looked like he was star struck.

Storm looked at Wakey. “Okay. Go on.”

“Well, we were getting a bite at the Koch Deli over on 7th. I got a pastrami on toasted rye with spicy brown mustard that was this tall.” He left a space between his hands. “Falcon had just been sharing with the new guy how Sovereign Nememiah made me read love poems to all the guys and then apologize to Crisp.” When his gaze scanned the older men and stopped on Rev’s glower, Wakey decided to edit the less pertinent details.

“All of a sudden Falcon jumps up and says, ‘Vampire’, like this.” He said it with his lips pulled tight and his tongue held motionless so that the formation of vowels was almost impossible. “We got up to follow him. I noticed he grabbed one of the wooden number holders. I figured out why he did it so I grabbed one, too. You know they’re always talking about resourcefulness in tactics class.

“So Falcon went tearing out the door after the vamps who were running and we went tearing out the door after him, but we had to work hard at it because, man, the fucker is fast!” When Wakey realized he’d said the word ‘fucker’, he stiffened and went wide-eyed. “Um, sorry about the language, sir.” He directed the apology to Storm, but glanced over at the others.

Storm said, “That’s okay this time, but remember you’re training to be a knight and The Order expects you to exercise befitting decorum.”

Storm gave Ram a pointed look as he said it. Ram replied by locking his gaze and mouthing, “Fucker.” As much as he hated to do it, Storm couldn’t help a little smile. There was something charming about the way Ram remained the same. Neither marriage nor aging nor being proclaimed father of a king could make Rammel stodgy, and that indomitable spark of life and fun was oddly comforting to Storm.

“So you were saying that Falcon here is fast on his feet.” Storm made a little circular gesture with his hand, signaling that Wakenmann should pick up the story where he stopped.

“Like wind, sir. Even in those boots he wears because chicks like the look.”

Rev made a huffing sound that caused Wakey to look his way. Seeing that the guy was glaring even more, and, who would have thought that possible? Wakey redoubled his intention to continue with the relevant stuff.

“So Sin and I had to pump like devils to keep him in sight. I guess the vamps turned into this alley because when we got here Falcon was engaged with both, trying to find an in without getting bitten. And I’ve just got to say that’s a lot harder than it sounds.”

He turned toward Falcon and Harvest who acknowledged by nodding solemnly. At the same time Ram and Kay exchanged similar nods double punctuating their younger counterpart’s declaration.

Storm looked at Falcon. “Is this true, Mr. Falcon? You deliberately ran down and engaged two vampire in the field without authorization and without backup?”

When it was put that way, it sounded downright shameful. There was a time when Falcon would have stared Storm down and dared him to a challenge, but that was before a deep and abiding respect for these hunters had begun to grow in his heart. He didn’t want to disappoint Sir Storm so he found himself looking down at his feet when he said, “Yes, sir.”

Storm continued quietly, with measured words. “And did you think that was a good idea?”

Falcon didn’t answer right away. When he did, he spoke as quietly as Storm. “I guess I wasn’t really thinking about anything except vampire running. I guess I didn’t think just sitting there eating our sandwiches was an option. In the back of my mind I was thinking that those vampire could be the end of somebody’s sister or daughter or girlfriend. And that I could stop them.” His eyes flickered and he added, “Maybe.”

“That’s all very true. The thing is this. What about you? You’re somebody’s brother. You’re somebody’s son. You’re somebody’s friend.” That last word was punctuated with a nod toward the other two trainees. “You can’t start thinking of yourself as dispensable. Not only are you important to some other people, but The Order has invested a lot of time and money in you. And you could have easily squandered that investment tonight by being a loose cannon.”

Falcon didn’t say anything. The other boys looked away.

“What’s worse is that you led your friends into a situation. Once you rushed in, they had no choice but to follow you. They had to get your back. So it wasn’t just yourself that you risked. It was them, too.” Storm watched Falcon’s face carefully and was satisfied with the impact his words were evidently having on the kid. “Here’s something they don’t usually tell hunters until it’s time for field duty. Before you embark on a patrol you have to be one hundred percent certain that you’ve sorted out your feelings about your duty to your team members and Black Swan.

“You know how hard it was to try and fight while avoiding coming in contact with a fang? Especially when the opponent is all about trying to bite you? What you haven’t been told in class is that, if one of you does get bitten, you have to be prepared to dispatch your friend, who sometimes feels like a brother to you. With the new virus it has to be done within minutes. No time for regrets, recriminations, or even goodbyes.

“Thank the gods I’ve never had to do it, but I’ve heard stories about what happens to guys who’ve had to execute their own partner. It breaks them. For life.”

While Storm gave the boys a literal street education, Rev felt tremors going through his body like the old wives’ tales about somebody walking on your grave. And he wondered for the thousandth time since returning to life as Farthing just how much residual memory his body had retained.

“You see these two guys?” Storm pointed to Ram and Kay. “I’ve been with them since I was younger than you are and I love them more than you can begin to imagine. I’d have no trouble trading my life for either one of them. Hel. It would almost be easy. But having to kill one of them? Hold him in my arms and watch the light go out of his eyes? I don’t see myself coming back from that.”

It was silent when Storm stopped speaking, like an eerie impossible quiet had settled around them like a shroud. Not just in the alleyway, but in the city. There was no traffic noise, no music, nothing but the sounds of their own breathing and heartbeats.

“In short, there’s a lot more to being a Black Swan knight than you know and you’re not ready for it. Are you hearing me?”

Falcon looked more than reprimanded. He looked devastated, like he’d just walked himself through the image of having to dispatch one of his friends. He nodded his head at Storm solemnly. “Yes, sir.”

Storm sighed. “Okay, enough lecture for now. I want to know how you identified them as vamps to begin with.”

Falcon made a visible effort to recover himself and get his thoughts back together. “We were sitting at a table by the window. I just happened to look up when they ran by and one of them looked right at me. There’s really no mistaking those eyes.”

Ram unconsciously nodded an affirmation.

“Like I said, I wasn’t thinking about anything except making sure they didn’t get away. After three blocks or so they slowed down and looked behind them. I guess they saw that I was running toward them, but didn’t think I was coming for them. Or didn’t think I was much of a threat. So they stopped and turned in here.

“I didn’t stop running. I did an airborne roundhouse thinking I’d knock one off his feet and maybe have a chance to stake the other while the one down was figuring things out.”

At that Ram raised his hands and let them flop against his thighs to convey his own two cents’ worth of disgust.

Storm said, “Continue.”

“I grabbed the one still standing by the back of his collar and smashed his face into the wall. Hard. I’d hoped to stun him so I could take a good aim with my little stick. I was afraid I only had one shot because it would likely splinter and break with repeated stabs.

“It’s just that the one on the ground didn’t stay down long enough. He grabbed me from behind and I guess he was about to chow down. Then I heard Sin. I guess he was running and making this sound like a growl. He got a fistful of the vamp’s hair and pulled him back off me.

“That left me free to concentrate on the fu…, uh, biter in front of me. I didn’t look back, just had to trust that Sin and Wakey had the other one handled.

“I danced around with him for a bit, him trying to bite me, me trying to get ahold of him and avoid the fangs. Which are damn ugly, by the way. I wasn’t getting anywhere fast until these two…” He stopped, motioning to his friends, a tone of unmistakable pride creeping into his retelling at that point. “They got him from behind and held him still for me. So all I had to do was jam the twig into the right spot.

“That’s the story.”

For a time the three members of B Team who were present stood motionless, just looking at the rookies. Undoubtedly they were seeing themselves and replaying a hundred such encounters in their minds. They’d survived long careers as vampire hunters. Each one of them was secretly wondering how much of that had been luck.

The veterans could see that the boys were trying to be cool and casual about the informal debriefing, but they could also see that the kids were jazzed, almost vibrating visibly. They knew firsthand what sort of adrenaline rush accompanies a victorious skirmish with vampire. And they hoped these kids would never find out what the other kinds of skirmish, the non-victorious sort, felt like.

Finally Storm turned to Rev. “Got anything you want to add, Sovereign?”

Rev didn’t take his eyes away from the boys.

“Yes. First, who paid the bill at the deli?” The kids looked at each other, shook their heads and gave Rev a guilty look. “Next lesson. Somebody is always designated bill payer. That means he’s got his hand on enough to throw down and cover the debt. Now, go pay your bill. Tell the manager there was an emergency, that you never intended to run out on the check, and that you’re sorry if it caused an inconvenience. If there’s any trouble, call me.” He held his hand out until Falcon handed over his phone. Rev programmed his contact number in and returned it. “Do not tell a soul about this incident and be in my office tomorrow morning at 11:30.” Wakey started to say something then stopped. “Question, Mr. Wakenmann?”

“I was just wondering if that means we’re excused from class?”

Rev sighed. “Yes. It does. Go straight to the midtown Whister pad. Your night out is over.”

All three boys mumbled, “Yes, sir,” and began walking away.

“Hey,” Ram’s voice stopped them. “E’en with all the fuckups and the maybes and the chances, you still did good tonight. Maybe saved somebody from bein’ eaten. Maybe saved somebody else from turnin’ vamp. Does no’ mean ‘twas wise, mind you.”

The kids smiled as they turned around and kept walking.

“Rammel,” Storm said. “nobody was ever soft on us.”

“Tellin’ kids their instincts are good. ‘Tis no’ the same thin’ as bein’ soft.”

“I had just been thinking that fatherhood hadn’t changed you. I was wrong.” Storm looked at Rev. “So what now, Sovereign?”

“Let’s call it in to clean up.” He looked over to see the boys turning out of the end of the alley. “Seems like Elora’s been relieved of the responsibility of picking three trainees. Looks like they picked themselves.”

When Kay had finished the call for clean up, Rev said, “Let’s wait for the truck. Then maybe I’ll buy you three another drink. To celebrate my engagement.”

Storm narrowed his eyes. “Did you tell her?”

“Couldn’t do that. Against the rules. She put it together herself and warned me that, if she could do it, other people – like you – might do the same.”

Storm whistled low. “You’re a lucky son-of-a-bitch, boss.”

“Watch that language.”

“I could use a whiskey,” said Ram.

“See? Nothing changes,” said Kay.

Elora turned over and looked at the clock. The red digital display was either wrong or time was moving very, very slowly. It wasn’t long after she’d fallen into Jefferson Unit before she realized that she’d gotten herself mixed up with a rough crowd. She’d known since before she’d admitted to being Rammel Hawking’s mate that the one thing she could not do was wait at home and hope B Team survived the night.

For cripes’ sake, that was how she ended up maneuvering her way onto B Team to begin with – so she could watch out for guys who looked a lot bigger, stronger, faster, but were in fact, far more vulnerable physically.

Ram was supposed to be on patrol from eight to two. She’d had time to get right with the thing and get a grip on being a big girl about it and thought she had. So she kissed her husband goodbye, gave Helm a bath, put him to bed, and spent a couple of hours catching up on the baby book. Future generations were going to want to know that the king could blow bubbles with mashed carrots.

A good night’s sleep wasn’t an option. She had a baby who’d be demanding attention, a change of clothes, and breakfast – in that order – in just a few hours. If that wasn’t enough of a motivation, there was a sharp group of trainees housed in the dormitory downstairs who’d be showing up for fight school, as they liked to call it, bright eyed, rested and ready. Fitful, sleepless nights were just out of the question, but the more she stared at the ceiling talking to herself about why she needed to go to sleep, the more wide awake she became.

By midnight she was up and pacing back and forth trying not to see images of roaring vampire with long sharp fangs or the long jagged, freshly stitched path of the knife wound that cut Ram from stem to stern. If he was a normal husband with a normal job, she could just call to make sure he was okay, but Black Swan had phone silence rules for good reason. A knight couldn’t be distracted by a phone call in the middle of a vampire encounter. The results could be disastrous. For that reason, only the Sovereign could be reached by phone in the field and then, only for emergency reasons.

By the time she heard movement at the front door she had worked herself into a frenzy bordering on hysterics. Ram hadn’t even closed the door before she had grabbed him into an embrace that was punishing to a native of Loti Dimension.

“Hey, now. Ease up just a bit. I’ll no’ be able to fuck you senseless if most of my bones are pulverized.”

“Oh, sorry, sorry, sorry.” She relaxed her hold and covered his face and neck in kisses.

Ram chuckled. “Do no’ take this the wrong way, but what is this about?”

She pulled back so that she could search his face for evidence of injury. When she was satisfied there was none, she ripped his Ramones shirt right down the middle.

“Hold on! Great Paddy, woman! That shirt was a classic! Have you gone barkin’ mad?”

She stared into his eyes until he stopped speaking, then her gaze jerked down to the buttons of his jeans. Her inspection of his chest and torso had revealed nothing but beautifully whole skin. No new wounds. But she had to be sure his entire body was unmolested.

When Ram saw where her train of thought was going, he said, “Stop! I ne’er thought the day would come when I’d be sayin’ do no’ e’en think about takin’ my pants off, but do no’ e’en think about takin’ my pants off.” She reached for his waistband. He backed up a step. “Do no’ make me do somethin’ you will regret.”

She stopped. “Like what?”

“Like rubbin’ your eyebrows the wrong way.”

“You wouldn’t. I hate that.”

“Aye, I know and I would despise takin’ advantage of intimate knowledge, but I will use the tools at my disposal if you persist in this most unbecomin’ behavior.”

Her shoulders sagged. “Are you okay?”

“Indeed. Good as Irish gold.”

“If you’re lying, I will find out.”

“Aye, but findin’ out is best when ‘tis consensual.”

“Okay. You have a point.” She bit into her lower lip and tears sprang to her eyes. “I was going crazy.”

“Aye. I can see that.”

“I can’t do it, Ram. I couldn’t do it before we were us and I really can’t do it now.”

“Why do we no’ step away from the door? Perhaps we might share an inch of wine and discuss the matter.”

He sat her down on the living room sofa, poured two glasses of wine a little deeper than the inch that was mentioned and returned to sit next to her.

“Are you beginnin’ to feel more like yourself?”

“Yes. Do you want to tell me about your night?”

“Aye. But first I’d like to know what has your feathers flyin’ all over the house.”

Elora had been set to tell Ram exactly how worried she’d been, but seeing that he was cavalier, she quickly got her wits about her and hatched a plan. Two nights hence she would be the one going out without him. She strongly suspected that when she returned after her patrol, he would be in a much better frame of mind to understand what her problem was and why she was distraught.

“Nothing. It was silly. Probably PMS. Now that you’re here, it’s all good. So tell me everything.”

And that is what he did.

Up to a point.

He told her all about losing the pair of vamps only to learn that they’d been found by three of her trainees. At one point in the story he had to give her a minute to slow her heart rate and catch her breath. There clearly was a good reason why the kids called her “mother”.

When he reached the part of the story where Rev had proclaimed that the three trainees were bound to skip two years and go into rotation, Elora started shaking her head violently.

“No,” she said. “He can’t have them.”

Ram said nothing. He took a long drink of wine, licked his lips, set the glass down and slid closer to Elora. Softly trailing his knuckles along her jaw line he said, “You know I’m sensin’ a pattern here. Seem you do no’ like the idea of your peeps or your chickadees in situations that could prove hazardous to health.”

“I don’t,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone as she looked at her wine glass and took another drink.

“Well, ‘tis no’ a thin’ either strange or unusual about that. ‘Tis only natural.”

“Exactly.”

“Except that your peeps and chickadees are no’ automobile salesmen. There’s a good reason why the job comes with a big life insurance policy. ‘Tis dangerous. You know that. Our business is savin’ the world. Lots of perks, but there’s a downside, too.”

“Are you patronizing me, Rammel?”

“No’ at all.”

“I need to go to bed.”

“Music to my elfin ears.”

CHAPTER 17

Sozopol, Bulgaria

Mercy descended the grand staircase, reminiscent of another day in hotel pageantry. When she and her two shadows reached the elevators, she had kept walking. Glen and Gun looked at each other and followed without asking questions. After all, they were there to escort and protect. Not direct. She kept walking until she reached the staircase, which was open and not at the end of the hall behind a closed door.

“Hey. I like your kippers,” Glen called from behind.

Mercy stopped and turned around. “My what?”

“Your,” he was motioning in the direction of her lower body, “kippers”.

“Glen, I don’t have any kippers on me and you couldn’t possibly be hungry enough to hallucinate me dripping in herring.”

“Herring?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Are we talking about the same thing?”

“I’m talking about the pants you’re wearing with all the pockets. Aren’t they called kippers?”

She shook her head, turned around and started back down the stairs. “They’re called pants, Glen. But thank you. I’m pleased you like them.”

Glen looked at Gunnar who couldn’t hold his laughter in another second. “Kippers?”

“Like you’re an expert on women’s clothing?”

“Well…” Gun started.

“Shut it, old man,” Glen trotted down the stairs behind Dr. Renaux.

The three joined Torn and Raif who had already commandeered a round table with two features to its credit. It was in a corner near an exit, always a favorite of Black Swan knights. And, if you were on the side of the table with your back to the room, it had a marvelous view of the morning sun rising over the Black Sea.

Mercy sat looking and sounding cheerful. “Hmmm. Nice view. So what looks good?”

“Good Bulgarian food?” mumbled Raif.

Torn smirked at him and turned his attention to Mercy. “They’ve got that thin’ where they smash bread, milk, and cheese up with sugar and butter. Looks disgustin’, but we were told before you came down that kids love it.”

“Popara,” she said.

“Forgot you’ve been ‘round this part of the world. We should be askin’ you what to get.”

“Well they’ve got these things that are sort of like grilled breakfast sandwiches. Brioche meets minced meat and eggs and cheese. In any combination you like.”

“Sold,” Glen said. “I’ll take three.”

“I’ll just have some more of that negarche cake,” Gun added. “With coffee.”

“Breakfast of champions.” Mercy smiled at him in mock approval.

“Exactly,” replied Gun. He offered Mercy a high five either not realizing that she was being sarcastic or not caring. Without missing a beat she gave him a high five and rattled her coffee cup, hoping to get the attention of a waiter.

“Hey,” she said, then followed that with something in Bulgarian.

“You have to tell us what you said. We can’t be responsible for you if we don’t know what you’re saying to people.”

“Why not?” She tipped her chin and asked the question playfully.

“Because,” Torn began, “if, for instance, you were to say, ‘in exactly ten minutes my friends will be openin’ fire on passersby on the coastline walkway below’, then we would need to prepare for bein overrun with hotel security, local police, and perhaps the Bulgarian military as well. If you said, ‘Show me the way to the Ladies’, then we could relax. Except for Glen, who will be accompanyin’ you as far as is seemly.”

“I see your point. But how would you know if I was telling the truth about what I said? What if I made up something outrageous, but told you that I requested cheese bread?”

“Because Black Swan knights are highly trained in matters of communication. We’re practically livin’ lie detectors.”

“I see. Very well then. I said, ‘We’re not tourists, you know. And you’re burning daylight!’”

Torn thumped the table and grinned. “And that, gentlemen, is the truth.”

Raif looked down his nose at her. “You said ‘burning daylight’?”

Mercy looked around. “Did anybody hear that? It sounded like a voice coming from nearby.”

Torn chuckled softly and clapped Raif on the shoulder.

When everyone had been served some sort of morning caffeinated beverage, Mercy took a few sips of coffee, listened to the easy banter between team mates, and when it grew quiet for a minute, put voice to the question that had been on her mind.

“If you, as knights I mean, are so great at reading people, I’d like you to give me your impression of Professor Yanov and Minister Igvanotof.”

Gunnar spoke up. “Yanov is cheesy and Igahblahblah needs to get laid. Badly.”

Mercy chuckled. “Anybody else? Anything useful?”

“What’s your concern? Your reason for askin’?”

Mercy looked at Torn. “Just wanted to hear another perspective. Igvanotof…”, she looked at Gun pointedly when she said it, “might have just been having a bad day. Or a bad life. Or there might be some other reason why he was behaving cold at best and hostile at worst.”

“Look around,” Glen said. “The dining room is deserted. We might not be tourists, but that doesn’t mean they wouldn’t love it if we were.”

Mercy looked at Glen for a minute and slowly started to smile. “So. You’re a boy wonder, Glendennon Catch.”

“I wouldn’t say that exactly. No.” He looked over at Gun. “But I do have more than two brain cells to rub together.”

Gun gaped. “I’ll slap you down, boy.”

“Punchline perfect. Gun. Can I have a ba-DA-bump?”

Mercy cut in to steer the kiddos back on topic. “You’re saying that if The Order exercises its power to shut this down, closes the site, gag order on everybody who knows, millions of tourist dollars remain forever floating just out of reach in the Minister’s imagination. So he has good reason to be displeased with us.”

“Yes. That’s what I’m saying.”

She sat looking solemn while she considered that. “No wonder they thought I needed an ‘escort’.” She put the word ‘escort’ in air quotes. “Are you armed? Just curious.”

Torn smiled his killer Irish smile. “Beautiful lady. Black Swan knights are always armed. Even when we’re no’ carryin’ weapons.”

She wasn’t exactly sure what he meant by that, but any related question fled her mind because their food arrived just then. When the waiter had delivered everything satisfactorily and retreated to the place where waiters go and cannot be accessed by patrons, Torn said, “There’s no’ a need to worry for your safety. Nothin’ will be happenin’ to you. Or even us for that matter. Think about it. If they wiped us all out mysteriously, there’d be fifty investigators here within hours. If they wiped us out straightforward-like, there’d be an army here within days.

“Either way it would no’ be a smart choice and, although BlahBlah seems an unhappy man, he does no’ strike me as a stupid man.”

“Okay, well, thank you for the analysis. That helps me know how to deal with him.”

Half an hour later they met Professor Yanov and Minister Igvanotof at the entrance to the hotel. Yanov left his car and walked over to greet them with a smile while Igvanotof sat in the vehicle and stared straight ahead. Yanov suggested the two Order vehicles follow them to the site.

Mercy waited with a sullen Raif and a silent Gun while Torn and Glen brought the cars around from the garage.

Raif eyed her surreptitiously the entire time, thinking that archeologists are supposed to be old men who resemble the bones that fascinate them. Not fresh and freckle-faced beauties with hair that blazes under direct sunlight. They’re not supposed to wear bright yellow sweaters over their khaki pants and hiking boots. And they’re really not supposed to carry backpacks made of shiny evening gown material.

Every time he thought he’d looked enough and tried to drag his eyes away, something new drew his interest. Lost in thought staring at the swelling curves under the sunny sweater, he was caught off guard when she suddenly turned toward him in what seemed to him like a blaze of glory. The way her hair had swept off her shoulder caused his eyes to go there and get stuck.

“What?!?” She challenged him with a piercing look.

He brought his eyes level with her and blinked, then shook his head and looked away.

“Here they are,” said Gunnar.

Mercy threw Raif one last reprimanding look before letting Gunnar guide her to the car.

Sitting in the back seat, it was impossible for Raif to fold his long legs so that he didn’t encroach on Mercy’s half of the space. Whenever a bump would bring his knee in contact with hers, she made a show of jerking away, sometimes harrumphing as well just to punctuate her revulsion at the idea of touching. The fact was that a car full of four people didn’t reduce the awkward feeling of intimacy that was created by being trapped in a small space with a man who smelled a little like heavenly cologne, a little like a summer night breeze, and a lot like his own uniquely masculine scent. Her body was hyperaware of the proximity and seemed to have its own agenda regarding Rafael Nightsong.

They traveled on a cliff side mountainous road that curved in and out offering occasional picturesque views of the sea below. All in all it took only fifteen minutes to get there, even with the extremely slow speeds. They came to a stop in a small graveled car park carved, or blasted rather, from the mountainside in front of a monastery built many centuries before there were cars or a need to park them. The parking lot wasn’t deserted, as she’d expected. There was a port-a-potty and six or seven vehicles already parked and deserted before their little caravan pulled in.

When the car came to a stop, Mercy was the first one out. Whether that was because of eagerness to get to her work or her eagerness to get away from the discomfort of Raif’s nearness was irrelevant. She wanted out. Right away.

Mercy strode quickly toward the lead vehicle from which Professor Yanov and Minister Igvanotof were emerging. The side nearest her was the driver’s, which was preferential since that meant she would encounter Yanov first.

He flashed his ready grin as he stood up straight and closed the car door. “It’s a fine morning for mysteries. Is it not?”

She smiled in return. “Indeed it is and I couldn’t be more ready.”

“This way then.” He gestured for her to accompany him.

As if she hadn’t done her homework, Yanov proceeded to explain that the site, perched high above the town of Sozopol, was what remained of the fifth century monastery. Relics found under the altar had been moved to the National Museum. So there wasn’t much left to see.

“Where are the remains of interest?”

Yanov grinned. “Come this way.”

He was walking toward the edge of the cliff where there appeared to be nothing but a guard rail so flimsy it wouldn’t stop a determined bicycle, and a few men standing around, ostensibly for the purpose of guarding the site.

When they reached the edge of the cliff, she could see that scaffolding had been built on the mountainside with supports driven deep into the rock. It was a good thing she wasn’t afraid of heights.

They’d created a catwalk path to the cave entrance.

Yanov spoke to everyone in their little group. “Safety first.” He grabbed a helmet off a bench and strapped it on. “No admittance without helmets. There is nothing to worry you, but the caves are classified as unstable because there is occasional seismic activity.”

“How in the world was this found to begin with?” Mercy asked while the knights were choosing helmets that fit and putting them on.

“Oh. It’s an interesting story. For some years, probably centuries, scrub trees have grown here and there on the cliff side. A few months ago a small earthquake loosened some of the rock and the trees fell away into the sea, which made the caves visible from the sea.

“Two boys, teenagers, were fishing together in a row boat and noticed. I don’t know how or why word of that spread to the Ministry of Antiquities or what exactly led them to fund further investigation.” He turned to Minister Igvanotof. “Do you know?”

The Minister shrugged and looked away as if that was an actual answer to the question.

In turn, Yanov shrugged and smiled at Dr. Renaux, then continued. “When the skeletons were discovered, the site was shut down immediately. I suppose someone working in the Department of Antiquities contacted your organization? I don’t know. All I know is that authority changed hands within hours and I was sworn to secrecy.

“Very strange. Huh?” Mercy agreed that if she had been in his position she would think the whole thing more than strange. “I know you brought some of your own equipment. These men,” he waved toward the men standing by the guard rail, “are here to carry what you need.”

“Thank you. Let me see what we have first and then decide.”

“Very good. With your permission I will lead the way.”

“Right behind you.” Mercy turned and looked over her four escorts, ostensibly to indicate that she was forging ahead.

She heard laughter behind her and turned to see Torn looking at Gunnar. It wouldn’t take a human lie detector to guess that Gun was afraid of heights. She reached past Torn with a glare, grabbed Gun’s wrist and pulled him forward so that he was next to her on the mountain side. Hopefully his psyche would accept the fake security of having a cliff on one side and Mercy on the other.

She leaned into him and whispered, “Okay?”

It was far too cool for the telltale sweat she saw trailing from Gun’s temple. He nodded. In a stronger voice she said, “Gunnar. Please take my hand so that the heights don’t make me feel unsteady.”

She didn’t wait for his agreement, but grabbed onto his bear paw of a hand and squeezed. The look he gave her fell somewhere between gratitude and adoration.

Raif quietly watched her extraordinary display of empathy and kindness and castigated himself for being the world’s worst judge of character. She couldn’t possibly be more different than he’d originally thought when he’d first seen her at the great speed dating fuckup.

Glen leaned over to Raif and said, “I’m not fond of adventures that begin with warnings about unstable mountains.”

Raif looked over, smirked, said, “Well, kid. You wanted to be a knight. This is the gig. You get what you get,” then walked off.

“Hey,” Glen yelled after him. “Thanks for the pep talk.” Raif waved his hand without looking back. Glen started forward. When he passed Igvanotof leaning against a rock wall, he said, “Are you coming?”

Igvanotof shrugged and never looked directly at Glen.

Entering the mouth of the cavern, one by one they switched on their head lamps. The chamber with the two skeletons was located about twenty-five feet inside. The stone ceiling was high enough to allow even Gunnar to stand upright, but the chamber where Mercy needed to work was really too small for four knights, one local and an archeologist.

“For starters, I’m going to need more light and less people,” she said.

“We had lights powered by generator, but when the inquiry stopped they were removed. “

Mercy nodded. “How long would it take to get them back again?”

Yanov pursed his lips. “A day.”

Mercy heaved a big sigh. “See if you can make it happen in four hours. No gas powered generators. We don’t want to be breathing those fumes in this enclosed space.”

Yanov stepped out on the catwalk where he could get a signal and make a call.

“I’m not going to be able to get very far without more light. There’s only so much I can do with these.” Mercy pointed to the headlamps on their helmets. “And it’s pretty much already been done.”

“What do you want to do?” Glen asked.

“Go wait outside in the sunshine, I guess, “

“Good news!” Yanov returned sounding pleased. “We can have more lights here in two hours.”

They spent the next three hours sitting on the rocks of ruins part way up a mountain overlooking the Black Sea. Some might feel that there are worst ways to spend a morning, but Dr. Renaux was antsy about having a closer look around her assignment and at least three of the four knights felt their time was being wasted babysitting a redhead and two skeletons when they should be on rotation for vampire hunting. So, all in all, the time passed slowly.

After a couple of hours, Glen opened the trunk of the equipment car and produced bottled waters for everybody. He made a delivery stop, handing over three bottles to Mercy, Torn, and Gun then turned and headed toward where Raif sat on an outcropping alone.

Raif had situated himself on a flat rock where he could watch Dr. Renaux surreptitiously without having to listen to the flirting going on with Torn. He hadn’t missed the fact that the two of them had been putting on a mating dance show ever since she’d boarded the plane in New Jersey. It was a wonder that he’d been able to eat while watching the cutesy display the two of them put on at breakfast.

When he’d tried to join in the conversation, she’d mocked him, turning to Torn with wide eyes and blinking exaggeratedly. Did you hear something? Torn had laughed and winked and encouraged her. Traitor.

Raif was sure that, later that night, he’d hear Torn sneaking off down the hallway for a clandestine screwing of Dr. Renaux. That is, if it didn’t turn out that her prim rigidity made entry impossible. As much as he wanted to tell himself he didn’t care, he knew he was wishing that he was the one who’d get to find out whether that feminine body felt cold as steel or soft, warm and pliable.

He was lost in those thoughts when Glen walked up and held up a plastic bottle. “Water?”

Raif looked up, then reached out to take it. “Thanks.”

“You always so antisocial?”

“I’m not antisocial. I’m just not into small talk.”

“Oh. Small talk. I can see that,” Glen said thoughtfully.

“Something else?” Raif asked like Glen’s presence was an irritant.

“No. Just thought I’d try to get to know you better. Since we’re going to be team mates and all.”

“Not much to know.”

“I’m betting there is. You strike me as a complicated sort.”

Raif barked out a belligerent laugh, looked at Glen and shook his head. “You know, kid. I’ve been called a lot of things since I’ve been wearing a Z Team brand on my hindquarters, but ‘complicated’ is a new one.”

“Yeah? Fits though, doesn’t it?”

Raif raised his chin and looked down his nose with a ghost of a smile. “I’m not much of a talker. Why don’t you tell me your story?”

Glen wasn’t the least put off by the hint of a challenge and didn’t hesitate.

“Okay. One of my grandfathers is a werewolf. I don’t shift, but I have some of the characteristics, like the vocal cords. I’m not a second son, but they made an exception for me because they thought I fit the profile. I do except that I’m not as angry as most.” That got a laugh out of Raif.

“I got a big break because of Elora Laiken’s dog. It was a right place, right time kind of deal. She used to take him out in the courtpark for a run and play. The dog and I hit it off. So she started tapping me to dogsit when she had to be away.

“When B Team got transferred to Edinburgh on temporary assignment, they took me along as dogwalker. There was a lot more to that job than just walking the dog. But anyway, while I was there, I learned a lot about Order business, made some pretty wonderful fucking contacts, and got to date my share of fae girls.

“About a year ago, when we had to mount a rescue mission for Lady Laiken, I got put in charge. After that people started treating me differently. Did the temporary Sovereign thing when Nememiah died. Hated it.

“I’m head over heels in love with an Order brat. Sir Storm’s daughter. But she’s disappeared, deliberately, because we had a fight - about me throwing in with Z Team actually. Now I don’t have any way of reaching her. It sucks.” He pushed his thumb into the valley near his heart where his rib cage came together. “Makes my heart hurt when I think about it. So I’m trying not to.

“That’s my story. Your turn.”

Raif gave Glen a sideways look and smiled. “You’d be great at speed dating.” They heard a truck downshifting like it was struggling up the last part of the steep road. “I’m thinking that must be the professor’s enlightenment.”

Glen laughed. “Enlightenment. That’s a good one. Don’t think you’re off the hook. I gave you my story. Now you owe me yours.”

Raif stood up and raised his hand to rest for a second on the slope of Glen’s trapezius. “Some night when I’ve had enough tequila to loosen the shyness.”

“It’s a date,” Glen said.

They walked together toward the truck. The driver and his helper were heading toward the rear to open up the back doors. When they started unloading the lights and generators, they were joined by a couple of other men who had, apparently, been hanging around for the purpose of assisting with such a task, should the need arise.

When Glen and Raif began to help lift one of the generators, there was a rapid conversation in Bulgarian that resulted in an unmistakable impression that the help of the foreign visitors was not needed or welcome.

Raif lifted his palms and backed away. “Fine. Have it your way.”

When they rejoined the others, Glen said, “What about lunch? You think they have taco trucks here?”

Torn’s eyes danced with lively elfin amusement. “I do no’ believe they will be comin’ ‘round with tacos, but if such a vehicle did turn up, I must know, would you actually eat from it?”

Glen’s hand rubbed over his torso and looked around. “Depends on how much longer until food.”

Torn laughed and said to the others, “We forgot we have a team member with the special needs of a boyo still growin’.”

After another forty-five minutes, Yanov made his way across the gravel lot toward Dr. Renaux and company. “The lights are working. Are you ready to begin?”

“Yes, thank you.” Mercy stood up. With a glance in Glen’s direction, she turned to Yanov. “Do you think we might ask someone to go for takeout lunch? The Order will pay of course.” She looked to Torn for confirmation of that and he nodded.

Raif despised the fact that she’d come to the conclusion that Torn was the guy to ask. Officially, it was Gun who had been appointed leader by Storm, even though Black Swan teams had a tradition of not naming leaders.

“Yes. The truck drivers will stop and place an order at an establishment that will deliver. We will let your, uh, party know when sustenance has arrived.”

“Sustenance!” Glen’s exclamation was so full of joy and enthusiasm it made the others chuckle. “Great word, Professor. And just what I had in mind. I’m needing some serious protein and I wouldn’t mind a few carbs to go with that.”

Yanov didn’t really understand Americans, but smiled and pretended comprehension. He spoke to the truck drivers who nodded ascent and started back down the mountain with a rumble and a grind of gears.

The four knights agreed that, since there was only one way into the cave, there was no need to have everyone hovering over Dr. Renaux at once. In fact, they reasoned that they might be more effective if they were in a position to see what was coming. So they agreed that they would rotate duties. Two would take up a position at the edge of the scaffolding, where the site was cordoned off from view. From that vantage point, they could see the parking lot, part of the road that ascended to the monastery ruins, with the catwalk and cave entrance behind them. One would remain at the cave entrance and another would stay with their charge while she carried out her mission.

In determining who would do what first, they used typical Z Team protocol – rock, paper, scissors. The winners of the first round would compete for who chose first until each knight had an initial assignment, as decided by Fate. Every two hours they would change places. The person in the cave would go to the catwalk entrance. The person at the mouth of the cave would guard Dr. Renaux.

The first round was decided. Torn and Gun would take up position at the catwalk with Raif at cave entrance, and Glen with the beautiful archeologist. They had barely gotten her equipment set up where and how she wanted it when, just an hour into the plan, lunch arrived in a car that gave the term “beater” a whole new meaning. In addition to sounding like it was dragging its muffler, the paint job it needed ten years before – and every one since then, had been skipped. At present it was simply past saving.

Torn announced the dinner bell to Raif who relayed the news to Glen and Mercy. She laughed when she saw that Glen was exercising a good deal of restraint to stop himself from running her down.

“Hungry?” she teased. His answer was a groan. “All right. All Right. Go on and eat.”

“I can’t leave you,” he pleaded.

“Oh? So you need me to go with you? What’s in it for me?”

Glen narrowed his eyes. “I can’t offer my body if that’s what you’re getting at. Rosie would kill me.”

Suppressing the smile that wanted to erupt in response to Glen’s refusal of sex that hadn’t been requested, a few images of the sort of guy who was her type flickered across the screen of her imagination.

“Rosie? Who’s Rosie?”

Another groan, louder this time. “Okay. Here’s what’s in it for you. If you’ll accompany me to lunch, like a good professor of archeology, I’ll tell you the whole story. And it’s a good one.”

Without further delay, she put her tools down and wiped her hands on the brown canvas apron she was wearing. “I can’t resist a good story. Especially if love is involved. There is love involved, right?”

He showed her a grin that made her think Rosie was a lucky girl. “Oh yeah.”

Lunch was served in a pan. Not a disposable takeout container, but an actual pan. It was a dish called moussaka, a casserole of potatoes, ground meat, and tomatoes flavored with sea salt and bay leaves, topped with white sauce. Each one of them was given a pan big enough to feed a family of three.

The Minister, conspicuously absent from lunch, seemed to come and go according to an agenda known only to him.

By the time Mercy had eaten a third and was stuffed, Glen had finished his.

When she passed the rest of hers over, he grinned like it was Yule and said, “No sense in letting perfectly good Bulgarian pan lunch go to waste.”

Yanov said that, knowing how Americans love sweets, they had included pieces of Turkish baklava.

When Glen grabbed as many pieces as he could hold in his hand, Torn said, “Do no’ eat that. Sugar will make you soft.”

Glen sneered at Torn. “When I start getting soft, we’ll talk about modifying my eating habits. Until then, you mind your dessert and I’ll mind mine.”

“Very well. When the time comes that you can no’ keep up, do no’ say no one warned you about the pitfalls of indiscriminate eatin’.”

“Duly noted,” Glen said with his mouth full of baklava.

“Okay,” Mercy stood. “You guys can stay here, bask in the sun and have an after-lunch nap if you want, but I have work to do.”

“Does this mean lunch is officially over?”

“It is for me,” she said and started away.

Naturally they all got up and followed. Where she went, they went until she was safely back at Jefferson Unit. When Glen reached the edge of the catwalk he stopped.

“What are you doin’, rookie? You’re in the cave,” Torn said.

Glen held up his watch and turned the face toward Torn. “Nope. It’s been two hours. Raif’s in the cave. You’re at the entrance. Gunnar and I are here.”

“May be technically true, but ’tis no’ in the spirit of the arrangement. Lunch is no’ supposed to figure in.”

“I’m okay with truth that’s technical. No such stipulations were made.”

“And you’re a stickler for rules, are you?”

“When it works to my advantage, yeah.”

Raif watched Mercy walk away as if she had zero interest in juvenile squabbles between knights. She bent down when she reached the cave entrance to retrieve the helmet she’d left there, put it on, and disappeared inside.

“Let him have his fun,” Raif said. “I’ll go in the cave and you take the entrance. Or exit as the case may be.”

Torn gave Glen a pointed look, but followed Raif.

When they were out of earshot, Gun said, “You may want to rethink baiting your team mates, kid. Those guys have long memories and a well-developed sense of justice. It may seem like fun and games right now, but teams have a way of evening things up and out.”

Glen scowled a little. “So now you’re telling me I’ve thrown in with three bitter, vindictive, vengeful old trolls with no sense of humor?”

Gun laughed out loud. “Yep. That about covers it.”

Hearing someone’s approach, Mercy looked up right into Raif’s gaze which was so pale blue, so piercing, and so compelling she forgot to look away. Not wanting to be first to blink, Raif continued to stare until Mercy shook herself internally and averted her eyes wishing she’d remembered to glare at him.

Looking around, he moved to a spot that he apparently found suitable. He leaned his big body against the cave’s rock wall and crossed his arms over his chest. The spot he’d settled on just happened to be right in front of where Mercy was working so that she couldn’t help but be aware of his presence.

Between Yanov hovering and Raif loitering within peripheral vision, it was hard to concentrate. The knight was a major distraction, but she couldn’t give him the satisfaction of telling him that.

After a half hour or so, she looked up, “Dr. Yanov?”

“Madame?”

“I need to take another look at the reports you’d submitted prior to our arrival. Do you have them with you?”

“Of course. They are in the auto.” As he left to retrieve the satchel with the documents, they could hear the slight echo of his steps all the way to the entrance followed by a vocal exchange that must have been Yanov telling Torn where he was going and what he was going to do.

All the while Raif stared at Mercy as if he was studying a specimen on a lab slide. She could feel it. Her entire nervous system was reacting with an uncomfortable prickle. When she thought she couldn’t stand one more exasperating second, she looked up with wild eyes and said, “What ?!?”

On cue, as if the mountain objected to her tone or the timbre of her question, the ground began shaking. Raif’s gaze jerked to Mercy. He was feeling exactly the same thing he was reading on her face - shock. Even a veteran Black Swan knight, trained to react instantly to any foe or peril, is only human. And freezing in place is the way most humans react when the ground starts moving underneath them.

The last thing anyone expects is a betrayal by the earth beneath our feet. We take it for granted believing that, when faith in everything else has failed us, we can still rely on the floor of our shared habitat to remain stable and be our guaranteed constant. It’s a covenant with our environment that is unshakeable right up until the moment that it shakes right out from under us.

It probably only took three seconds for Raif’s mind to sort through the possibilities and fire back the word “earthquake”, but that three seconds represented a lot of waste from the perspective of how much reaction time was available. The rumble was growing so loud that he couldn’t hear Mercy’s panicked shriek, but he saw the heaving almost knock her off her feet.

A quick glance behind him told him all he needed to know about which way to go. There wasn’t much deciding. The tunnel was caving in between them and the entrance. With only one way to go, he grabbed Mercy and pulled her deeper into the cavern as they heard the grind and thud of thousands of pounds of rock and debris falling in behind them.

As they hurried further into the darkness, stumbling over uneven ground and tripping over loose rocks, the dust began to catch up with them so that they were coughing and trying to run at the same time. Then, just as it had begun – with no warning, the cavern grew silent as a tomb.

The instant that Mercy had that thought she regretted the use of the particular phrase ‘silent as a tomb’.

When they stopped, their lungs went through three stages of recovery – coughing, then panting, and finally normal breathing.

If not for the headlamps on their helmets, they would have been experiencing a darkness more complete than most people ever see. When Mercy turned her head toward Raif, the lamp on the front of her helmet lit his face. She then did the single thing most unexpected and most inappropriate, given their situation. She laughed.

“What is so fucking funny?” her companion wanted to know.

She was still chuckling. “Your face is completely covered with dust and the way your eyes are peeking out, it just, I don’t know, struck me as comical.”

“Comical. You should see you.”

“Then why aren’t you laughing?”

“Because I’m sane.”

“Oh don’t even think about going there because that is so up for debate.”

“Okay, look, before you go off on one of your little tangents…”

On the other side of the rubble, Gunnar and Glen had their hands full trying to rescue Torn. When the tunnel began to close he was forced onto the catwalk that was being supported by scaffolding. The scaffolding was the first thing to go, It came apart and fell down the mountain like it had been made of Tinker Toys. Fortunately Torn was able to grab onto a couple of feet of protruding rebar that had been sunk into the cliff wall to support the scaffolding.

The only thing keeping him from a long fall to a painful death was his grip and the strength of his biceps, which were burning from holding up his weight while he screamed for his team mates to do something.

“Hold on, we’ve got it under control,” Gun yelled back.

“Are you bat droppin’s mad, Gunnar? You do no’ have it under control. My hands are slippin’ and in another minute I’m likely to be meetin’ Paddy, whose name I have taken in vain on an hourly basis most of my life.”

Gun turned around to look at Glen and say, “What in hel’s name should we do?, but Glen wasn’t there. He looked at Yanov, who was frozen in indecision with all the color gone from his face.

Glen came jogging up with a spool of cable that had been left to connect the lights to the generators.

“What’s that for?” Gun asked.

“I’m making a lasso out of this cable. Feed it to me.”

“You know how to do that?”

“Yep.”

“Would you two wankers stop fuckin’ around and get me down?!? This is no’ funny!”

Glen yelled back. “Okay. Get ready. I’m gonna rope your head.”

“You’re what?!?” Torn was one notch past hysterical.

“Rope your head. Here it comes.”

“NO! WAIT!”

The cable had gone sailing through the air and smacked Torn on the side of the face before it slid by and kept going.

“You’re gonna have to suck it up and help, Torn. When it comes by next time, let go with one hand so you can grab the cable and put it around your waist.”

“LET GO?!? THAT’S YOUR PLAN?!?”

“Stop being such a baby. You’re not the only one who needs rescuing, you know. Here it comes. Man up and grab the rope. Maybe you’d have more energy if you’d had some sugar with lunch.”

There was no time to reply to that when Torn saw the makeshift cable lasso flying toward his face again. He pressed his lips together, let go with his left hand, reached for it and caught it. He shoved the circle over his shoulder and brought his left arm through before taking hold of the rebar again. He took three deep breaths, then tightened his grip with his left hand, let go with his right hand and pulled the cable so that it slipped past his right shoulder.

Glen had been poised, waiting for that exact moment. When he saw the loop clear Torn’s other shoulder he jerked the cable so that it tightened around him.

“Gun. Grab this cable on the ground behind me. If he lets go, the only thing that’s going to keep him from hitting bottom is the hold we’ve got. And prepare yourself. Since we don’t have gloves, it’s going to cut into our hands and hurt like the devil.”

“Don’t worry, brother. I’m right behind you,” Gun said.

“Torn!” Glen shouted. “We’ve got you. You’re gonna have to let go. It’s gonna be scary because you’ll drop a little ways at first and then swing, but it’s okay. Just like rappelling. We’re not gonna let you go. You may smack into the side of this mountain, but you’re to survive it. You understand me?”

Torn knew he didn’t have a choice. His hands were sweaty from the fear and they’d be slipping even if he still had the strength to hold himself up. Which he didn’t.

“Do no’ let me go!” And with that his hands slipped off the rebar.

As Glen predicted, he dropped and swung like a pendulum across the face wall. Fortunately he stayed close enough to the wall so that the impact didn’t break bones. He was able to use his legs to create a braking effect and stop the swing back, just like rappelling – as Glen had said.. When his body came to a rest, his team mates started to pull him up.

Yanov and the other government employees who had been working as guards had grabbed the cable to help pull Torn up. The cord bit into their hands and stung, but after seven long minutes of pain and strain, they brought Torn up and over the top of the flimsy little guardrail.

He collapsed on the sand and gravel parking lot, as did Glen and Gun.

Yanov said something to Glen in Bulgarian, which he didn’t understand, then remembered he needed to speak English. “Give me your keys. He needs water.”

Without sitting up, Glen dug into his pants pocket and retrieved the keys to the equipment vehicle. Yanov had seen him take bottled waters out of the trunk so he went straight there hoping to find more. And, yes, there was a carton of twenty-four minus those that Glen had passed out at lunch. He grabbed an armful and hurried back to the knights as fast as he could.

Glen crawled over and raised Torn’s upper body enough so he could drink water without choking. He slowly gave Torn water until he’d consumed two entire bottles.

Torn looked around, “Where’s…?” Then he remembered. “Oh gods no.”

Glen and Gun looked at each other, then at Yanov. “We’re going to need your best engineers to figure out how to dig them out before they run out of air.”

Yanov’s sad eyes didn’t change expression and he stood unmoving. “Forgive me for saying so, but it seems very unlikely that…”

“I don’t know how you do things here,” Gun said, “but we don’t leave people behind until we’re absolutely sure they can’t be saved. Right now we’re not sure of anything except that our people are trapped and we can’t see or hear them.”

“I understand and am very sorry to be the one to inform you, but I do not believe the Bulgarian government will incur the expense. Even if they would…”

“Even if they would? What?”

“The scaffolding would have to be rebuilt to support heavy digging equipment. Even with funding and permission to proceed, I don’t think it could be accomplished in time, while sufficient air remains.”

Glen scowled at Yanov. “I’ve seen reports of mine collapses on the news. Don’t they have a way of boring through rubble to communicate with people who might be trapped? And to run an oxygen hose?”

Yanov cocked his head to the side like he was interested. “Truthfully I cannot answer those questions. That is far outside my area of expertise and I’m not familiar with new developments in the field.”

Glen turned to Gun. “You gonna call it in?” Gun stared at Glen. “You’re the honcho.”

Gun shook his head while continuing to stare at Glen. “That’s ludicrous. I’m ‘honcho’ in name only. When Torn’s not in charge,” he glanced at Torn, who was still lying on his back staring at the sky like he’d seen a miracle, “that would be you.”

“Me?”

“Not to mention the fact that, of the three of us, which one actually knows the Director personally?”

Glen returned Gun’s stare that was half determination and half plea then turned aside pulling out his phone as he walked away.

Gun walked over and squatted next to Torn. Without looking over at Gun Torn asked, “The kid makin’ the call?”

“Yeah.”

“I feel funny no’ knowin’ if Raif is alive or hurt or… Well, just no’ knowin’. I was just thinkin’ about the first time I met him. We were about the same age Glen is now. We’d both been in trouble and were bein’ sent to the Yucatan on chupacabra duty as a punishment.

“I remember my Sovereign sayin’ with a smile that there’s only one thin’ worse than goin’ after vampire and that’s chupa huntin’. Nasty creatures to be sure. Wily and way too many teeth for a species that lives on land.

“Raif and I, we got on the same plane in Phoenix and,” he stopped and chuckled like he was reliving a good time, “you remember when they used to have the big reclinin’ chairs on tracks so that the seatin’ could be reconfigured?”

Gun nodded. “Yeah, I do.”

“Well, we hit turbulence in flight. The truly frightenin’ sort that reminds you that human bein’s are no’ meant to be sling shottin’ around the globe in a hunk of metal. A hunk of metal whose integrity depends on whether or no’ some welder had a fight with his wife.

“So I was grippin’ the arm rests with white knuckles and tellin’ Paddy I’d be a good boy if I lived to tell the tale. All the while, bins and compartments ‘round the plane were flyin’ open and slammin’ shut.

“Then I hear this war cry whoop. I look over and see that Raif has released the brake that kept his chair in place. So every time the plane shifted, his chair would run up and back on the tracks. He’d slide one way and come to a slammin’ stop like bumper cars. Then slide back the other. He was laughin’ so hard.

“Naturally I did no’ want to be left out. So I looked around for the release on my own chair. In seconds the two of us were ridin’ the storm out. Literally.” Torn chuckled again. “I forgot all about bein’ afraid. He made big fun out of scary flyin’.

“You know it was right after that that somebody decided the chairs should no’ be on tracks.

“He was so full o’ life back then. Three years later, we’d both hit the wall of foolishness past which there is no tolerance. We were both assigned to Z Team in Marrakesh, but I did no’ know he’d also be there until I looked up and saw him comin’. I was so pissin’ glad to see him. I could no’ keep the grin off my face.

“At the time, the other two on Z Team were old fuckups in their mid-thirties who’d been assigned to that cesspool so long they did no’ even bother to bathe. After Raif had a day or so to get his bearin’s, he realized what kind of consequence we’d got ourselves into. So you know what he said?

“Well, here we are, brother and, no doubt, we deserve it. So let us go find out who imports tequila and get tattoos.”

They heard steps crunching on gravel and looked up to see Glen approaching. “The Director says they’ll take it from here. He says everything that can be done will be done, for us to sit tight at the hotel after we get Torn cleared by medics. They’ll keep us informed. Play by play.”

“The Director said ‘play by play’?”

“No. That was a paraphrase. Sue me.”

“I do no’ need to be poked and prodded by medics. I need Margaritas.”

“Yeah? Then how come you’re still lying down in a parking lot looking like your body just smacked into the side of a mountain?”

“You’re a funny kid. He’s a funny kid, is he no’, Gun?”

“Hysterical, Torn. Let’s get you to the car and then decide about the clinic.”

“I’m no’ goin’ anywhere.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m no’ leavin’ here until Raif comes out of that hole.”

Gun and Glen looked at each other. Gun cleared his throat. “I get the sentiment, brother. I love him, too. But setting up camp here in this parking lot? It’s not going to bring him back sooner.”

“No’ the point and you know it.”

“What is the point, then?”

Torn didn’t answer. After a long pause, Glen said, “Do you feel like it would be kind of a betrayal to leave?”

Torn didn’t answer, but Glen could see his jaw clenched.

Glen nodded, mostly to himself. “Here’s the deal. Our orders,” he motioned between Gun and himself, “are to take you to a hospital and make sure there’s no concussion or breakage. After that, we’ve been told to go to the hotel and wait. That’s exactly what we’re going to do even if we have to drug you to get you to the car.”

Torn shot a death glare at Glen, who had started to look and sound a lot like authority.

Glen continued. “However, after we’ve gotten a med green light, and, after you’ve gone back to the hotel for a nap and a meal, I’ll bring you back here until it gets dark.”

Torn seemed to be thinking about that. “Paddy. He’s goin’ to be cold in there. That hole feels like a meat locker.”

“Well,” Gun said. “He’s not alone. Maybe they’ll call a survival truce and keep each other warm.”

CHAPTER 18

“My little tangents!” She shouted as if the incredulity of it couldn’t be grasped by the human brain.

“You know, this is exactly why they don’t allow women in mines.”

Mercy gaped. “You’re saying you think the collapse is my fault? Because I’m a woman?!? You’re supposed to be an educated person, regardless of appearance to the contrary. I know that you of all people do not believe that superstitious nonsense.”

He turned to her with an expression that was so smug it was smarmy. “I wasn’t talking about that. I’m talking about the fact that no one wants to die with fucking yammering and shrieking hurting their ears.” His face was inches away from hers by the time he finished his tirade. “Bitches and their runny mouths!”

“You really are an imbecile, you know that?”

“Maybe, but this imbecile is your only hope of getting out of here alive, Your Royal Cuntness.”

“You did not just say that.”

“I did.” He got right in her face and grinned as he said it, but she didn’t miss the way his eyes lowered to her mouth and lingered there a little too long.

She backed away a couple of feet and regarded him warily. After a lengthy pause, she responded with a quiet calm he hadn’t expected. “That really was an ugly thing to say.”

He turned his back to her and took a deep breath. When he felt like he had his emotions under control, he turned back.

“I was trying to tell you that we need to take care of a couple of things. First, are you hurt?”

She stopped and took inventory. There was a stinging on her leg. She angled the headlamp toward it. When she put the light on it, she could see that it was a scrape that needed some cleaning and some antibiotic salve, but not stitches.

Raif bent to take a close look. “Is that the worst of it?”

“Yes. You?”

“I’m fine.”

“Really fine or macho fine?”

He looked up at her. “I have no idea what ‘macho fine’ is?”

“It’s that thing men do when they don’t want to make an effort to communicate or when they feel all depends on preserving a delusion of being super-human.”

“Delusion, huh. Got it all figured out, don’t you?”

“Is that what you’re doing? Are you hurt somewhere?”

He turned a smile her way that she could read as wicked even through the dust. “Are you wanting an excuse to check me over? Inch by inch?”

“Okay. Not hurt. I believe you. What’s second on your agenda?”

“Second is preserving what little resources we have. One of us needs to switch off the helmet light. That will make the light we’ve got last twice as long.”

“Good idea. I’ll do it.”

“Okay.”

“What do you mean ‘okay’?”

“I mean okay. How many ways are there to take that?”

“You’re supposed to say, ‘I wouldn’t hear of it. I’ll switch mine off first.’ That would be the gentlemanly thing to do.”

“Yeah, well, I have no aspirations to be a gentleman. Unless you mean it in the sense of being a frequent patron of strip clubs.”

“What a surprise!” She said with as much sarcasm as she could infuse into three words. “Exactly what I would expect from somebody who couldn’t get a real date if his life depended on it. Naturally you would have to resort to looking at women who are being paid to let you look.”

He gaped. “It shouldn’t surprise me that your first reaction to this predicament is to act like a raving bitch.”

“You, on the other hand, haven’t missed a beat. You’re still the same dick I know and loathe.”

“You’re calling me a dick?” He barked out a laugh riddled with ridicule. “What’s it like to be the only woman in history so caustic that she could bring down a mountain WITH A SINGLE WORD!!”

By the time he finished that sentence he was yelling. He braced for her next volley of insult and barb, but instead saw that her face had gone slack and her bottom lip trembled.

“Holy shit. I didn’t mean…” Raif had no idea how to go about damming up an impending burst of female emotional turmoil. The idea of making a woman feel better was far outside his skill set and even farther outside his comfort zone. “You know that was just trash talk, right? You can’t really start an earthquake like that.”

She sniffed and looked away. “I know that. You don’t get a doctorate in archeology without learning a little geology along the way.” She tried for haughty, but was quivering on the inside because she wasn’t entirely sure that she didn’t cause the quake. Sometimes an unfortunate pairing of timbre with the right note on the scale can create a vibration that destabilizes…

“You know they’re going to do everything humanly possible to get us out of here.”

“Would you mind looking to your right?”

“Why?”

“So I can see what’s there. The only light we have between us moves with your head. I think I might as well sit down because there’s no place to go.”

He looked to the right. The ground next to the wall was uneven and the floor of the cavern featured a variety of embedded sharp rocks. He looked to the left and found a small spot where the floor looked like smooth sand.

“Right there,” he said, pointing to the spot with his headlamp. “We can rest for a little bit.”

“Rest for a little bit before what?”

He shrugged. “Nothing concrete, but it’s not give up the ghost time until we’ve surveyed our options. When I was a kid I was fascinated by the Knights Templar. I remember something about some of these old mountain monasteries having escape tunnels underneath. They were always getting raided by thieves…”

“And the Pope, himself.”

“Yeah. Maybe not the Pope himself, but at least his minions. Anyway if this happened to be one of those…”

“Then we might come to a way out if we go farther in.”

Raif shrugged and nodded, bracing in expectation of verbal abuse. He knew she was going to tell him it was a truly stupid idea.

“You’re a lot smarter than you look, you know that?”

That was just about the last thing he expected to hear from Dr. Renaux.

“I thought I was an imbecile.”

She giggled and he had to admit he liked the sound of it a lot better when it was directed toward him and not Torn.

“Maybe you’re an imbecile who has his moments.”

They sat down a foot apart on the small patch of smooth ground and put their backs against the cold cavern wall. Unlike an overstuffed sofa, it wasn’t going to warm up from body heat after a while.

“I don’t want you to get your hopes up or anything. Odds are greatly in favor of us dying in here, hating each other. I don’t know which will get us first: lack of air, lack of water, or lack of food.”

“Don’t sugarcoat it.” He shrugged as if to say it was what it was and no apology should be necessary. “Well, just look at it this way. I’m a cheap date.”

Raif laughed in an open and unguarded way that seemed antithetical to everything she’d learned about him up to that point. “Hey,” he said. “It’s our second date and we’re escalating. Maybe next time we can cause the entire universe to implode.”

She giggled again. “What you said about us hating each other…” She let that sentence trail off and die.

“Yeah?”

“We can’t do anything about the air or water or food, but we don’t have to die hating each other.” Raif didn’t respond. “So tell me something. What was it about me that made you hate me instantly? On sight? I mean at the, um, speed date lunch.”

He let out a big sigh and didn’t answer right away. “I didn’t hate you. Far from it. That… behavior. It was more like a preemptive strike.”

“Preemptive strike? I don’t get it.”

“You asking to hear my sob story?”

“Uh. Sure. I’m not otherwise occupied.”

“Well, like I said I don’t think there’s a rat’s ass chance of us getting out of here still breathing, but just in case, can we agree that what happens in the cave collapse stays in the cave collapse?”

She turned her head toward him and smiled. She couldn’t read his expression because the helmet light was shining in her eyes, but he appreciated that smile, even if it was covered with teeny bits of ground up rock.

“Sure,” she said.

“Okay. Here goes. I was in an awkward place when I first started noticing girls. They made fun of me and I learned not to trust them.”

When it sounded like he might not say more, she prompted. “What do you mean by awkward place?”

He’d never talked to anybody about his damage. Not even Torn. But sitting there in the abject blackness next to Dr. Renaux, whose faint scent could still be detected under the dust coating, it all just came bubbling up like a geyser.

“My mother left my dad with a promising career as an aerospace engineer and two little boys who looked just like her. I don’t know why she left. If Dad knew, he never said.

“You hear about people who go into depression and then bounce back. Well, he just did the first part. No bounce back. He knocked around odd jobs for a few years making just enough to get by. When I was thirteen, he got a job working daytime security at a private school for rich kids, the kind who are already wearing Ivy League sweatshirts because they know where they’re going to college and that they’re going to get in.

“One of the perks of the job was free tuition and books for my brother and me. We got free tuition and books, but not the stuff that would help us fit in. Like wardrobe and good haircuts. We were trashy kids who lived in a rundown trailer park, or community as they preferred to call it. And we looked like what we were.

“My older brother managed it better. He was a lot more easygoing, good natured about the teasing. Eventually his peers decided he was more or less cool, like their mascot James Dean or something. I don’t know. Let’s just say that my adjustment had sharper edges.

“Long story short, I figured out early that I liked girls and wanted some of what they had to offer. Unfortunately the admiration wasn’t mutual.”

“That’s… hard to believe.” Mercy ventured in a soft voice after he was silent for a bit.

Raif really didn’t know what to say to that. So he went on.

“The girls… They looked so clean and shiny and smelled so good, not like perfume, more like the smell of wholesome. I don’t know. It’s hard to explain. They looked like they’d been taken care of. Of course they were. Taken care of that is. And I wanted to be close to that.

“When I tried to get close enough to talk to them, they looked at me like I’d gotten lost on my way to the back door. Sometimes they laughed. One girl, I remember, just sniffed. Sniffed. And turned away like I wasn’t there.”

Mercy could hear the emotion in his voice and could almost imagine the way he must have felt as a little lost boy.

“The other news is that, about the same time, everybody was starting to figure out that I was good in school. Despite rumors of me being a imbecile,” his helmet light turned toward Mercy pointedly, “I was good enough to compete with the brainiacs. Right before I turned fourteen, Black Swan found me and I was out of there. Had no reason to want to stay.

“Fast forward to speed dating because of a bet I lost to Torn. First, I’d had a bad night. A really bad night. When I first saw you sitting there at that speed dating table, what I saw was what I imagined one of those girls might look like all grown up. Prim and proper and entitled and sure that nobody who wasn’t fourth generation Yale was good enough to talk to her. So I lashed out.”

“Preemptive strike.”

He turned toward her thinking there was no reason to hold back. He didn’t have any reason not to tell the whole story.

“Yeah. Seeing you sitting there almost knocked me over. I wanted you to like me so much and I was so sure that you were going to make me feel like a walking piece of shit…

“The thing is that, right after I blew the place up, I realized that maybe I hadn’t been fair. I hadn’t even given you a chance to say hello before I shut down all the possibilities. I deliberately put you on the defensive, but it wasn’t you I was mad at. I figured that out.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. For all the good it did. You were already long gone when I got my shit together and I didn’t know anything about you. I remembered your first name, but not your last name. I was being so intent on not looking and feeling like a fool, again, that I left myself without any way to find you. Like an idiot.”

“You wanted to find me?” She sounded like it was the strangest thing she’d ever heard, but she also sounded enthralled, which encouraged him to continue.

“Yeah. For all the good it did. So - and believe me I know how lame this is going to sound - I started going back there on days off. I’d just walk around the area hoping that maybe you lived or worked close to where that restaurant was.” He laughed. “I got to know the neighborhood really well. I could mark on a map every single place to sit down or urinate. I could write a guidebook and call it Looking for Mercy in Midtown.”

She’d been studying him quietly, soaking it all in, almost afraid to move. “Catchy title. And not a bad strategy either. Just so happens I work and live within a few blocks of there. It’s probably surprising that you never saw me.”

“Wow.”

“Yes. So I’ve got to ask something. What were you planning to do if you saw me?”

He stared for a few seconds with the light shining in her eyes then put his head back against the wall and laughed. “You give me more credit than I deserve if you think there was a plan. Sometimes I rehearsed apologies, but when you tried to talk to me on the plane I had a brain freeze. Maybe I would have chickened out and just become a stalker.”

“Wait. You had a brain freeze on the plane when I tried to talk to you? I thought you were just being an asshole.”

“I can’t blame you for thinking that. It wasn’t my best impression.”

“Yeah. But you looked for me? Tried to find me? To apologize?”

“Well… partly.”

“What’s the other part?”

After several moments of silence passed, he said, “It’s your turn. Tell me about you.”

“What about me?”

“You can start with, ‘I was born…’, and take it from there.”

“I’m a long-winded teacher-type. You might be sorry you opened that door.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

“Alright. My adoptive parents were killed when I was a baby. I was raised by a grandmother who hadn’t been particularly impressed with the idea of adopting and had been very vocal with my parents about that. I know because at least once a day she reiterated that she’d warned them against adopting and pointed out that she’d been right because look how badly things had all turned out for her. She was saddled with some faceless stranger’s kid.

“She went through the motions of care, but not the motions of love. So I knew I was missing something and I wanted that something I was missing.

“By second grade I had figured out that I was smart and that I could get positive recognition by doing smart things. I might not have had parents who doted, but I could stand on the fringes of approval if I pleased my teachers. So I studied. Hard. And eventually put myself through graduate school on scholarship and stipend.”

“We have something in common then. We both pretty much raised ourselves. Mine were absent. Yours were dead. From a kid’s point of view, it’s about the same.”

Mercy was thinking that the following day was her birthday and that she was the only person alive who knew that and cared. When she didn’t respond right away, he pressed on.

“How did you end up at Columbia?”

“Luck. Mostly. In the early sixties, spy satellites found about ten thousand archeological sites in the Middle East. Lost cities with roads and canals. All ‘undiscovered’.” She put the word ‘undiscovered’ in air quotes although he didn’t see that since his helmet light wasn’t on her at the time. “Some of them were as big as a hundred and fifty acres. So archeologists all over the world began petitioning the governments of Turkey, Iraq and Syria for permits to excavate and investigate. It took nearly forty years to get in, but I was lucky enough to get taken on as assistant slash intern at one of the sites that was permitted to dig.

“I was there for a little over three years. One day my boss handed me a letter. It said there was an opening at Columbia. I remember looking up at him with a question on my face. That’s when he offered to recommend me if I wanted it.” The smile on her face revealed that she was reliving that day as she told the story. “Well, I’d never lived anywhere like New York, but the opportunity seemed like a gift from the gods. I think I might have squealed,” she laughed, “which both embarrassed and pleased the man I worked for. He was a famous guy, at least in circles frequented by archeology academics, attached to de Gaulle in Paris. Very prestigious. I knew a recommendation from him would go a long way.

“He told me to keep the champagne corked until there was an actual offer, which was good advice, of course.”

“But you got it.”

She smiled. “But I got it.”

He reached over and pulled away a tiny piece of rubble hanging from her eyebrow. “And now you’re here.”

“Now I’m here.”

“Yeah. Tell me how that happened.”

“Stays in the collapsed cavern, right?”

“Right.”

“Okay. If we get out of here alive, you have to forget everything I’ve said. I was pretty disillusioned after the speed dating incident. I didn’t come away from that feeling excited about the prospect of connecting with the opposite sex. So I gave up on the idea of maybe meeting somebody. Ever. And decided I needed to make some big changes in my life. Do something different…”

“Wait. Hold it right there. You’re saying you were so upset about that scene with me that you gave up on the idea of dating?”

“I think you underestimate your heartthrob worthiness, Sir Nightsong.”

“Dr. Renaux. You thought about me.” He said it like he couldn’t really believe what he was hearing.

“Call me Mercy. Yes. I thought about you.”

“In a good way. Right?”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” He chuckled. “The experience was so horrible that I rededicated myself to work, but that didn’t seem to be filling the…”

“Hole?”

She could tell that he was smiling an infuriating smile. “Was your development arrested at age thirteen?”

He laughed. “Probably.”

“Anyway, I got a message from a man named Monq. It was so intriguing I had to check it out. I guess that’s what archeologists do. We get intrigued by mysteries and have to go where they lead.

“He told me about vampire and, naturally, I thought he was a loon. Right up to the moment when a kid materialized out right next to my chair and showed me fangs.

“I’m still not sure why I didn’t die of a heart attack on the spot. Seems like I should have, but I didn’t even faint. Or scream. Isn’t that what women are supposed to do? That’s what women always do in movies.”

The sound of his soft laugh came closer to making her heart skip than the vampire had. “Sooooo. Either you’re special or they got it wrong.”

“Which one? Right now I’m feeling like a disappointment to my gender. No fainting. No screaming.”

“You want me to pick?”

“Yeah. You set up the parameters. Now choose.”

“You’re special.” Although she couldn’t see it, his smile became a grin. “And they got it wrong.” She laughed. “So Monq figured a trick vampire show is worth a thousand words.” She nodded. “And it worked.”

“And it worked.”

“And now you’re here on this grand adventure that will probably end in our deaths.”

“Hmmm. Nothing funny about that.”

He took her by the hand and pulled her to her feet. “It has its drawbacks. But it’s not all bad either. Finally found a way to get you alone. ”

Sir Nightsong couldn’t have surprised her more if he’d started singing “Dixie”. He started moving forward being careful to keep the light where she could see in front of her.

“Anybody ever mentioned that it’s hard to get a read on you, Nightsong? You’re kind of a moving target.”

“Nobody’s ever said that in so many words. I have had a couple of people tell me I’m not worth trying to decipher. I think the exact words were along the lines of ‘fuck off’.”

“Can’t imagine why anyone would ever have that reaction.”

He chuckled. “You don’t have to forget the… uh, incident. But I do think you should let me out of the penalty box. Since mine will probably be the last face you ever see and all.”

“I can’t see your face. When it’s not dark, there’s a light shining in my eyes.”

After twenty minutes of moving further into the cavern they noticed three things. The cavernous space was getting larger instead of smaller. The air was getting thicker instead of thinner. And they could hear some noise ahead that sounded like an engine.

“Listen.”

“What is it?”

He shook his head back and forth. “Let’s go find out.”

“Famous last words.”

After several minutes of forging ahead they noticed that, with every few steps, they were able to discern a fourth factor in their ever changing equation. The cavern was getting lighter instead of darker. The engine noise was also getting louder. A faint glimmer of hope was starting to take root in their minds.

What they found at the end of their short journey seemed both miraculous and magical. The cavern opened up into a circular space about forty feet in diameter. The far side featured light coming from above and a small waterfall that fell into a pool.

They looked at each other.

“Good news or bad news?” Raif asked.

“Bad news first,” she replied.

“It’s a dead end with no way out.”

“I don’t like the bad news.”

“Exactly why it’s called bad news.”

“What’s the good news?”

“We’re not going to die of thirst. Assuming that water is good to drink. We can shut the helmet light off thereby doubling our ability to light the darkness. Again. And, last but not least…”

“Yes?”

“We can wash the mountain off so I can see your beautiful face before I die.”’

She cocked her head. “You think I’m beautiful?”

“Well… Not now.” She hit him on the arm while he laughed. “I meant that in theory your beauty will be restored when you’re cleaned off.”

“Oh. In theory.” She sat down on the ground.

He sat down in front of her. “Hey. You know what though? Seriously?”

“What?”

“I think we should try to use what time we have left well.”

She looked around. “Doing what?”

“Fucking.” She picked up a pebble near her hand and tossed it so that it landed against his abs. “Hey. What was that for?”

“Fucking? Really?”

“Yeah. Look, I know I’m not a ladies’ elf like Finngarick. Maybe I’m not your death by sex fantasy, but you’re mine.”

Mercy gaped, not knowing whether he was serious about the sex or the fantasy or any of it. And she seriously wasn’t about to let him know that the face she saw in her most erotic nocturnal moments was his.

“I don’t know you well enough to be able to tell when you’re joking and when you’re not.”

He nodded like he was mulling that over. “I get that. So we’ll make it easy. I’m half joking about the fleshy friction. I’m perfectly serious about the fantasy part.”

She stared at him for a while trying to figure out if he was telling the truth about telling the truth. “If you’re being honest, about the fantasy part, then thank you. It’s nice to go out on a high note.”

Reaching for her bronze taffeta back pack that would never be stylish, or clean, again, she began digging around inside. After a few seconds she said, “Yes! I thought so!”

“What?”

She withdrew a packaged rectangular item and held it aloft. “A protein bar! Don’t worry. I’m giving you half.”

“Protein bar.” He made a face. “Those things leave an aftertaste like road kill.”

“First, it’s food. Second, you’re actually going to complain about the taste now? When it could be your last meal? Third, how do you know what road kill tastes like? Fourth, strike that last question. I don’t want to know. But if that’s really how you feel, I’ll just eat the whole thing myself.”

He launched himself at her feet and sat on his knees, holding his curled hands up like begging paws.

She had to hand it to him. The guy wasn’t just drop dead gorgeous in an exotic and bad boy way. He could also be cute with cross currents of little boy that called to her nurturing instincts. He was a mystery, an unlikely combination of traits that was near irresistible to a professional mystery chaser.

Rolling her eyes, she unwrapped the bar. What she revealed looked a little like jerky pressed with straw. She broke off half and started to hand it to him, but he leaned forward and opened his mouth. She extended the half bar toward his mouth, expecting him to take a bite, but he took the entire piece and began chewing while grinning. Mercy wasn’t sure whether to be appalled, amused or amazed that his mouth was that big. But she wasn’t going to insist on manners when they were spending their last hours in a cave together.

Raif walked over to the pool to try the water. He leaned down to smell first. When it passed that test, he dipped his hand in for a taste. “Well, I’ll be a…”

“What? What is it?” She came up behind.

“It’s warm.” He looked up at her. “Mercy, you’re a good luck charm. There must be a fissure underneath leading to some volcanic activity down deep.”

She stared at his upturned face for a beat before she started laughing. “Got to give it up for your attitude, Raif. Not everyone would call this situation lucky.”

His face split into a grin that she knew would be heart stopping if his face was clean. “Let’s go in.”

“In?” She looked at the water dubiously while Raif stood up and started stripping off clothes.

“Come on. We’re both freezing. The water will warm us up. It’s like a natural hot tub.”

“I don’t know.”

“What don’t you know, Mercy? If there was ever a time to throw caution aside, this has got to be it.”

He was making good points both about the chill and the caution. She grabbed the hem of her sweater and pulled upward.

CHAPTER 19

Farnsworth looked at her phone. It was a text from Rev. Dinner at my place tonight. 8. Don’t get caught up and be late.

She smiled at the phone thinking she was the most blessed woman who ever lived. How many could say they lost their love, but got him back again? One. So far as she knew. Okay. What shall I wear?

Rev: Little as possible.

It was a private joke that didn’t seem to get old.

She set the alarm on her phone so that, if she did get caught up in work, she’d have a warning and know when to quit. It was a good thing she’d had the foresight because she was in the middle of looking at the reconciliation of the clinic budget when she heard the chime.

At precisely eight she knocked on Rev’s door. The Sovereign’s quarters were a little bigger and more luxurious than any other residence at the Unit, but they still wouldn’t be called palatial. She noticed the stainless steel room-service style cart sitting next to the dining table, which could seat four, but was set for two.

“You didn’t cook?” she teased.

“I’m afraid that if I impress you any more you’re going to spontaneously combust.”

“I’d laugh at that, but can’t argue. You are extremely impressive.”

“Nice to have a woman who appreciates the extent of my wonderfulness. Have I ever told you that you look good in red?”

She smiled. “Uh-huh. What are we having? Smells good.”

“It’s a surprise. One of several.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Mashed potatoes smothered in flank steak smothered in onions. I guess it’s a theme dish.”

“Uh-huh. What’s the safe word?”

“Hmmm?”

“Nothing. So we’re eating light. Going dainty?” she quipped.

“There’s asparagus spears,” he said defensively. “But I’m a working knight right now, which means I have to have real food that will help me stay in shape.”

“And not get flabby like you used to be?”

She snickered. But he didn’t look like he appreciated her attempt at humor. In fact, he’d gone still and was looking far too serious. “We can’t joke like that or talk like that. Not even when we’re alone together. If we do, we’ll get comfortable with it and, sooner or later, there’ll be a slip. That slip could lead to questions and that, for all I know, could lead to the end of… this.”

A chill settled around her as she confronted the possibility of losing him all over again. She folded her arms protectively around her middle to still the trembling and hoped he didn’t see it. After all, if she couldn’t talk about what had happened, that meant she also couldn’t tell him about how much she feared losing him again.

“I understand.” She nodded slowly. “You’re right. I’ve got some work to do editing my words. I don’t know how to guard my thoughts though. Sounds hard.”

“Believe me. It is.”

“Don’t worry. Hard is what we do for a living, right?”

“Right.” His face had softened as she expertly diffused the issue. “Let’s eat.”

Over dinner Rev told her some of what happened with the trainees on his night patrolling. Farnsworth shared that Kristoph Falcon was hopelessly enraptured by her assistant and that he found a reason to come to the office every day.

“That’s going nowhere. There’s got to be a six year age difference,” he shook his head chuckling. When he looked up and saw that all the color had drained from his fiancée’s face, he realized too late what he had said. “Wait. I didn’t mean… You know I didn’t. Cripes. Just shoot me now.”

“Well, it’s out there. How you really feel,” she said quietly. “I’d rather know than not know.”

He stood up so fast she didn’t have time to track the movement as she was pulled up and into his hard body. She would have liked to be the sort of woman who could simply give herself over to melting against him and shedding a few tears, but she wouldn’t. She might have felt comforted, but right or wrong, her self-esteem would have suffered.

“Look at me.” She stared at his chest. “Look at me.” After a few beats she managed to raise her eyes. “The reason why I didn’t think about the difference in our ages when I said that is because I don’t think about the difference in our ages. As far as I’m concerned it doesn’t exist. When I look at you what I see is my beautiful, sexy woman who’s soon to be my beautiful, sexy bride. I see everything I ever wanted in my future all rolled into a soft package with just the right curves in just the right places.

“The way I feel about you can’t be reduced to numbers. Please tell me you understand that.”

She nodded and pressed her cheek into his chest so he couldn’t see how much work it took to keep her tear ducts dry. He stood and held her, swaying back and forth, sensing that she needed reassurance.

After some time, when she was satisfied that order had been restored in her world, she said, “What’s for dessert?”

He smiled and kissed the top of her head. “Peach cobbler. It’s being kept warm with that candle thing.” He nodded toward the cart. “Got coffee, too.”

“And another surprise?”

He looked down at her. “Yep. Have a seat.”

He refused to tell her what the surprise was until she’d eaten her cobbler and made the requisite yummy sounds. He took the dessert plates away and set them on the cart.

“More coffee?”

“Enough! I can’t stand it one minute longer!”

“I never realized how impatient you are.”

“Impatient? I have the patience of Jonswil.”

“Uh-huh.” Reaching toward a nearby chest with a long arm, he opened the top drawer and withdrew a file.

She looked both intrigued and ill at ease. “What is it?”

“Something that Storm had apparently put in motion when he was still acting as temporary administrator. This came in last night when I was out with B Team, but I wanted to make sure you had some privacy when you received it.”

“What on earth?”

He nodded toward the file. “Open it.”

She looked down at the manila folder where her finger was resting heavily. It was hard to read what Rev’s brown eyes were trying to convey. Intensity? Hope? Worry? She took a surreptitious deep breath and opened the folder.

On the left hand side, a candid photo was attached. It was a determined-looking young woman in an urban landscape, walking purposefully across what appeared to be a square. She wore a form fitted white shirt with exaggerated cuffs, a black knee length skirt, and had a heavy-looking brief style bag strapped cross body. It was a sunny day that picked up streaks of red in her auburn hair and, even though the photographer wasn’t close when the picture was taken, there was an impression of freckles across her nose and cheekbones.

Farnsworth’s first reaction was to wonder why her fiancé was showing her a photo of another woman. Another woman who was beautiful and much younger. She glanced up at him for a reaction, but he just lowered his eyes to the folder to indicate that she should continue.

When she’d finished studying the photo, her eyes moved to the right hand side of the folder and the first page of documents therein. There was a name at the top and next to that a birth date that made her breath catch. She looked back at the photo again and then reflexively clutched the folder to her bosom as if some part of her spirit hoped she could make up for twenty-eight years of separation and empty arms by doing so.

At first she’d thought she felt tears spring to her eyes, but none fell. When the first wave of shock subsided, she continued reading.

Mercedes Renaux.

Her adoptive parents were killed when she was a baby before she ever met them. She’d then been raised by a widowed grandmother who had admonished her son and daughter-in-law, in writing, not to adopt, but rather to graciously accept their childless state as fate and look toward hobbies to fill their time. A copy of that letter appeared in the file. Gods knew how The Order had obtained it.

It seemed the girl had an indomitable spirit. She wasn’t particularly social, but she did well in school and eventually put herself through a Ph.D. program with scholarship and living frugally on a tiny stipend. That led to a field assistant/internship, which led to the teaching appointment at Columbia.

When Farnsworth had a chance to digest the information, she looked up.

Rev said, “I’m guessing the father had red hair and freckles?” She nodded. “Looks good on her. And so do your features and your legs.” He pointed to the photo. “That’s the same way you carry your shoulders when you’re going somewhere with a mission to accomplish. I see you stamped all over her.”

Farnsworth smiled through a haze and a cyclone of confusing emotions. “I want to see her.” Rev’s smile faded and he sat back in his chair, his mouth gone into a thin line. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“Well,” he began slowly, “the news is mixed. The good news is that she works for us.”

“Black Swan?” Farnsworth was nothing less than astonished.

“Just came on recently. As in last week. She’s on assignment in Bulgaria.”

Little lines appeared between her brows. “What kind of assignment?”

“It’s right up her alley. An archeology thing requiring her particular specialty. Something that needed to be looked into before the information gets out to the general public. I sent Z Team with her.”

“Z Team!?!” Rev almost laughed. It seemed Farnsworth held roughly the same opinion of The Order’s notorious bad boys as he did. “To escort and protect. You know, they have their flaws, but they can be trusted to do a job like that.” She snorted her disagreement. “Well, there’s more.”

She didn’t know if he was pausing for dramatic effect or if it was really so bad he couldn’t bring himself to just come out with it. “Well?”

“Well… There was an accident at the site. A partial collapse of a tunnel and…” Rev didn’t like the way Farnsworth’s chest was suddenly rising and falling rapidly.

“And?”

“And she and one of the knights are missing.”

“I need to go there.” She stood and began looking around for her things. When Rev didn’t move from his chair, her eyes flashed. “Now!”

“Susan, I can’t get you there at this time of night. If you’re serious about wanting to go…”

“No! Not wanting to go! Needing to go!”

“Okay, then. If you’re serious about needing to go, then we can figure out a transport tomorrow morning.”

“No. Tonight.”

“Tonight?”

“You heard me.”

“That’s impossible.”

“Impossible? Don’t you dare say that to me! Nothing is impossible when The Order wants to make it happen. Nothing!” She picked up her sweater jacket and purse. “I’ve given my life to this organization and never asked for one damn thing in return. Until now. Get me transport tonight.”

Rev stood up slowly and pulled his phone from his pocket. He touched the face a couple of times before looking at her face. He looked away quickly.

“Sorry to get you up in the middle of the night but I need a plane here, fueled up with fresh pilots, ready to fly to Bulgaria. And it couldn’t wait until morning.” Pause. “I’ll wait. Thanks.” Pause. “I’ll owe you. Okay. Goodnight.”

He ended the call and looked up. “Tvelgar says there’s a plane that was going to overnight in Chicago. They can scramble around, get a fresh alternate crew, and be here in three hours.”

“Thank you.” She hugged him tight. “For everything. For the, uh, file and for getting me there. I’ve got to go pack.”

“Okay. I’ll meet you down at the front entrance,” he looked at his watch, “at ten thirty.”

“You don’t have to see me off, Rev. I’m a big girl.”

“I don’t plan to see you off, Susan. I’m going with you.”

“You can’t go with me. There’s too much to do here.”

“Maybe this Sovereign learned some valuable lessons about how to live life from mistakes the last one made. I’m going with you.”

She couldn’t protest too much when she needed and wanted him to go so badly. Grabbing him around the waist, she planted kisses at eye level, on his shirt above his heart. “Thank you. That… means the world to me.” That was the tearful tipping point. A person could only contain so much emotion without spill over. She looked embarrassed about the stray tear that she swiped away.

“Check the weather before you pack.”

“I know.”

Rev watched her close the door. His next call was to the Laiken-Hawking residence. Ram answered.

“It’s Farthing.”

“Oh?”

“I need to speak to both of you.”

“You mean now? Where?”

“I could come to you if that’s easiest.”

“Suppose so. We’ll freshen the coffee.”

“Be there in five.”

“One thin’. No matter what, no yellin’ is allowed. There’s a baby that will no’ hesitate to interrupt a meetin’ no matter how important we say ‘tis.”

“If there’s to be any yelling, it will not be originated or instigated by me.”

“Who is it?” Elora had muted the TV.

“’Tis the new Sovereign. He wants to see us both now and he’s comin’ here.”

Five minutes later, Rev was lowering himself into a chair at the kitchen nook table with a mug of coffee.

“Something’s come up and I need to respectfully request a slight amendment to our agreement. Just for the next few days. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. Well, hel, I may as well tell you. It’s not going to be a secret.

“Farnsworth had a baby when she was a teenager. Her parents made her give it up. We located the girl, er, woman and it turns out she’s a recent recruit. Works for us.”

“Paddy,” Ram supplied.

“Indeed. Based right here out of Jefferson Unit.”

“’Tis a small world.”

“Yeah. Thing is, Headquarters sent her on assignment to Bulgaria. I sent Z Team to escort her. There was a tunnel collapse and now Farnsworth’s daughter, who she just learned about half an hour ago, is missing, along with Sir Nightsong.”

“Great Paddy. The Fates seem to have taken a bead on the poor woman.”

“Would seem so. Long story short, she’s going tonight and I’m going with her.”

Elora looked confused. “No disrespect, sir, and maybe it’s not my business, but why would you be going with Farnsworth? There are other people who know her better.”

“I doubt it. We’re engaged.” Rev looked at Ram and gave a tiny shake of the head.

“Wow,” she said. “That was fast.”

“Succinctly put, Lady Laiken, but you know how it is. The heart wants what the heart wants.”

“Wow,” she repeated. Elora seemed lost in thought for a few seconds, but then reengaged with the moment at hand. “So how can we help?”

“Well, I’m scheduled to patrol with B Team tonight. I was hoping you could get a babysitter and…”

“Yes. We’ll do it.”

Ram looked at her like he didn’t know her. “Do you no’ think we should talk it over, just the two of us?”

“Normally yes, but I’ve given this a lot of thought. I was going to bring it up after my patrol tonight when you’d had a chance to find out firsthand just how hard it is to sit home and not know what’s going on. This latest crisis has just moved my schedule ahead by a day.”

“Your schedule,” Ram repeated drily. “I was actually goin’ to have a talk with you today and let you know that I’m goin’ out tonight instead of you. I am no’ likin’ the idea of my child’s mother in the field. Particularly no’ in light of the way these new biters are behavin’. Allegedly.”

Elora gaped at him and Ram knew the flush in her cheeks was never a sign that an argument was going his way.

“You mean you were planning to make me fight my way onto B Team a second time?” She outrage-whispered so as not to wake Helm. “As for ‘badly behaving biters’, that’s exactly the point I was going to make and my practical demonstration couldn’t be more apropos to your phrasing.”

“What demonstration?”

“You know how Helm is going through a biting phase?” Elora turned to Rev to catch him up with a summary. “When the baby doesn’t get what he wants when he wants it, sometimes he turns red in the face, screams, and bites like a little pit bull. Three days ago he bit Ram on the shoulder.” She turned to Ram, who was wearing a gray metal band tee. “Come on. Show our guest how it looks after three days.”

Ram hesitated for a couple of seconds, eyeing her in challenge, but finally acquiesced and pulled the short sleeve up above his shoulder to reveal the bite mark . It was ugly. Helm had made a mold of his teeth out of his daddy’s flesh. It was bruised all around and had the red telltale signs of beginning infection.

“Your baby did that?” Rev asked incredulously.

Ram nodded.

“It looks worse, Ram. When we’re done here, you’re going to go down to the clinic and have them take a look.” Elora continued. “But back to my demonstration. Tonight, right here in this very high chair,” she pointed to the chair for dramatic effect, “the child threw a similar tantrum - which had Hawking stamped all over it, by the way - and he bit the bejuices out of my forearm.”

She then pulled up her sleeve and turned her arm over so they could both see that, from any and every angle, there was no sign she’d been touched.

Ram grabbed her arm and gave it a close inspection and then insisted on doing the same with the other arm. When he was satisfied with the inspection, he shrugged. “So you’re a fast healer.”

“No. The point goes much deeper than that. It’s not that Helm bit me and I recovered quickly. It’s that he didn’t do any damage to begin with. Unless you count the fact that I think less of him and question his love.”

Ignoring that last part, Ram said, “So you’re tryin’ to say you can no’ be hurt?” He made a rude noise. “Talkin’ to the wrong person, love. You’re forgettin’ that I happened to be there when we almost lost you to vampire bites. Made a righteous mess of that beautiful body if I’m recallin’ correctly.”

“I’m not forgetting that. But you’re forgetting that, number one, I wasn’t out with a team. I was alone. And number two, I wasn’t taken down by vampire. It was a fellow knight, which is why I didn’t see it coming.” Ram responded by slumping down in his chair and starting to thump a nervous rhythm on the table with his hand. “Don’t you see, Ram, if I’m on patrol, I can protect you. When the four of us are together, I may be able to protect Kay and Storm as well. That’s why I wanted to be a knight to begin with.”

Ram sighed deeply. He was going to give in for all the same reasons he had given in the first time. “That’s why you wanted to be a knight?”

“Rammel, if something happened to you, I would never forgive you for going out without me because I would always know that I might have prevented it if I’d been there. I owe that to you, to me, to Helm, and to B Team.”

“Are you plannin’ to play every card in your deck?”

Elora raised her chin and smiled. “I’m not playing, Ram. I’m standing by my man.”

“You know there’s a reason why Great Paddy ne’er married.”

Elora cocked her head and looked at Ram thoughtfully. “You do know there’s no Great Paddy, don’t you, Ram?”

“What do you mean?”

Rev interjected. “If this is settled, I need to go throw a couple of things in a bag.” He started toward the door and turned back. “Oh and take one of the kids we’re moving up with you. Have them take turns. They might as well learn from the best. They’ve already been informed and will be waiting for your instructions.” He closed the door and was gone.

Ram and Elora looked at each other.

“I think he paid us a compliment. He implied we’re the best. I did no’ know that Sovereign types know how to be nice.”

“He’s not being nice, Ram. He’s planning to put my kids on the streets years before they’re ready.”

Ram’s face softened. He took her hands, pulled her up out of her chair and repositioned her on his lap. “Well, see, here’s the thin’. In your eyes they’ll ne’er be ready whether they’re eighteen or forty. Same thin’s goin’ to happen with Helm someday. When it comes to life, lettin’ ‘em go ‘tis definitely in the hard column. But sometime you have to do it.

“Now I happen to know that they could no’ possibly have had a better teacher. You’ve given them every possible advantage to help them do the work and stay alive. This crop of trainees comin’ out of Jefferson Unit? In the whole history of Black Swan there’s ne’er been a bunch so well-prepared.”

She turned her face into his and smiled just a little. “Yeah?”

“’Tis Paddy’s own truth. Now which one will we take with us tonight? And we need to get a babysitter. ‘Tis on The Order’s tab.”

CHAPTER 20

“Wait. Condom.”

He gaped at her. “I don’t have a condom, Mercedes. Who do you think I was planning on fucking? One of my team members? Or maybe the buttoned-up bitch who was looking at me like I was something pulled out of a stopped-up drain?”

“You did not just say that.”

“I… didn’t. Well, I guess I did. But I was talking about how I saw things before. Not how I see things now.”

“How do you see things now, Raif?” Her voice was soft and he loved the way her mouth formed his name. He’d never thought it was a particularly good name before, but he was starting to really appreciate the sound of it.

He looked at her with a question in his eyes. “I see the most beautiful girl who’s soft and naked, ready for me, and looking at me like I’m candy.” He moved his hands up and down the sides of her bare body under the water like he was double checking to make sure she wasn’t an illusion. “Do you like my name?”

There was confusion on her face. “Do you have ADD?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. But do you like my name? And would it be a problem if I do have ADD? Never mind. Forget that. It’s the other thing I want to know. About my name.”

“All right. Your name.”

She looked away and seemed to be gathering her thoughts. She thought it was an odd conversation to have in a naked embrace with a man who was essentially a stranger.

“No,” he said. She brought her gaze back to his face not understanding what he was saying ‘no’ to. “No diplomacy or tact or Miss Manners. Just tell me how you feel about my name. The real deal right now.”

When she looked back at him, her eyes looked as liquid as the reflection of the navy blue water in the pool that surrounded them. “I don’t know why you want to know what I think about your name, but I’ll tell you what I think. No one has ever had a name more beautiful than yours. If you say it altogether, it sounds like what it is – a song. If you break it down to just your nickname, it sounds like a lover’s contented sigh. Now why do you want to know?”

He wasn’t sure he could articulate why his heart had forced the question out of his mouth, but he was sure that he was dumbstruck by her answer. She was perched partly on a flat rock that formed a natural step, with her legs around his hips. The water was warm and clean and heavenly, but nothing was as heavenly as the beauty he held in his hands. He looked down with hooded eyes. “Kiss me.”

“If there’s no condom, I don’t think kissing is a great idea. It could lead to things condoms are designed for.”

All of a sudden he started laughing under her. “You think we’ll die from an STD before we starve to death?”

“Well… no, but that’s not the only reason people use them. What about pregnancy?”

“You’re not on birth control? You weren’t kidding about giving up on love, were you? Okay.” He ran his hand down his face, his pale eyes sparkling in the ray of late afternoon sun that came through the cavern ceiling above. “Let’s have the mature, planned parenthood conversation. Take the one in ten thousand chance that we live through this and combine that with the one in a hundred chance that you’d get pregnant… What we have is essentially zero probability.”

“Keyword is ‘essentially’.”

“Then I hope he has your brains.”

After the pause of a few heartbeats the worry lines cleared from her brow and she smiled. “I hope she has your smile. And your eyes. And your…”

Stopping that thought in progress, he covered the fountain of words with a kiss that was undoubtedly to die for.

With the help of buoyancy, he held her with one hand and brought the other up to caress and tease a nipple that jutted proudly stiff from being out of the warm water. He pulled her up and into position where he poised at her opening. Listening to her greedy whimper made his head fall backward. When he opened his eyes a sliver to get a look at the expression on her face, he was spellbound by the hunger there, but that wasn’t all he saw. His eye was also drawn to a ledge that hadn’t been apparent from other vantage points because of the way it blended into the shadows.

Tired of waiting, Mercy pushed her pelvis forward with an eagerness that took what was left of his breath away and caused her to hiss in a mixture of pain and pleasure.

“Mercy,” he groaned. “You’re tight as a virgin.”

“That’s because my girl parts are out of practice,” she panted.

When her body began to adjust to his size, he gradually increased the pace of his thrusts until they were churning the water into waves and sloshing over the sides. All the while he reveled in her response to him. Her uninhibited vocalizations echoed and reverberated again and again, creating a virtual sound chamber of eroticism. It sounded like he was making love to a dozen Mercys at once, which made his senses feel bombarded with sexual pleasure. The result was that he was harder and fuller than he had ever guessed was possible. Sooner than he would have liked, he jerked in release and buried his face in the crook of wet skin at her neck.

After the sound died and the water calmed, they were both starting to feel the drain. The adrenaline spike may have helped get them out of the way of the collapse, but there was a price to pay for it.

“Hmmm,” Mercy said in a way that was too drowsy.

Raif knew how easy it would be for both of them to just go to sleep in the warm water, but there was stuff to do. “Come on.” He pulled back and lifted her away at the same time. “Got to get out and get dressed.”

“Nooooo. It’s cold out there. It’s warm in here. I’m staying. You should stay, too. Don’t go.”

At that moment in time he would have given her just about anything she could ask for. Anything, but that.

“No can do. Get your lovely bounteous ass moving.”

“Raif! First, my ass is not bounteous if you mean that the way it sounds. Second, we don’t have towels. That means we’ll have to put our clothes on while we’re still wet and then the clothes will be wet. And stay that way! In the cold air! Just let me stay here. I might as well die comfortable.”

He grabbed her face between his hands. “You’re not going to die, Mercy. Got a new plan, but it requires cooperation from you.”

Tiny lines formed when her brows drew together. “What kind of plan?”

He groaned. “I’m supposed to be protecting you. Remember? I can’t do my job if you’re always questioning me. I don’t interfere with your work, do I? So can’t you just trust me and do what I say?”

“No. What kind of plan?”

“There might be a way out. We need to explore the possibility.”

She looked around confused. “What way out? We’re in a rock walled tube.”

“Well,” he pulled her toward him, turned her around, and angled her head just so. “If you look right there, I think there’s a ledge that might lead to another cavern, and that one might go to the surface. It could be the monastery tunnel we were hoping for and can only be seen from this position. If you’re just looking around, it’s hidden in the shadows.”

She turned to face him and narrowed her eyes. “When did you know there was a way out?”

“Right before you sat down on my cock.”

Her lips parted and her eyes flashed. “And you didn’t tell me?”

He barked out a laugh. “Sweetheart. I’m a man. You really expected me to say, ‘Stop the fucking! I’ve just found a way out?’ And give up my fantasy?” He was shaking his head. “Noooooo. Not likely. Clearly you have no idea how good you feel when you’re wrapped around me.”

“You! Gambler!” She was spitting mad and it sounded like an accusation, but not a very bad one. At least not to his way of thinking.

“Gambler?”

“You gambled with our bodies and our future.”

He looked confused. “How?”

“STDs? Remember?”

“Mercy, I have never barebacked before. In. My. Life.” His face spread into a sardonic smile that was hypnotizing. “And It. Was. Good.”

When her brain was able to function again, she said, “Well, that’s not the only problem, is it? What if we get out of here only to find out that I’M PREGNANT! How would you feel about your ‘fantasy’ then?”

“Is this a trick question?”

She scowled. “How could it be a trick question?”

“Doesn’t matter. Told you the truth the first time. If we made a baby, I would hope he had your brains and I would hope you don’t really love New York because I wouldn’t want us to raise our kid there.”

That took the wind out of her sails. She stood there blinking.

As he gathered up his clothes, he said, “Hey. What are you gonna have to eat when we get back to the hotel? I’m thinking steaks. Maybe three.”

She had to give him points for optimism. “You do have ADD, don’t you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. Is it important? Do you want to talk about it right now?”

“No. I do not want to talk about it right now. I want to get out of here right now and then get far away from you. I don’t know what made me forget that you’re certifiable.”

“Probably my smile. Or maybe my eyes.”

“GAH!”

She scrambled out of the pool, shrieked at the cold, grabbed her dingy-looking backpack off the ground and gave it a brush like that would actually have some effect.

She pulled on her clothes as fast as she could, letting the burst of anger warm her and fuel her resolve. What aggravated her as much as anything was the delicious soreness between her legs and the fact that her nipples were still sensitive and reacting to the touch of cloth. If it had been a fond farewell to life on Earth, it wouldn’t have been a terrible way to go. But she would die in earnest before she ever let him know she felt that way.

When Farnsworth and Farthing arrived at the hotel in Sozopol, it was such a circus they couldn’t get close to the front entrance. They told their driver to let them out and walked the rest of the way with their luggage.

What spoke to Farnsworth’s state of mind more than anything was the fact that she had not contacted the hotel ahead of their arrival. For her, it was an inconceivable error of omission, the sort of mistake she would never make if she’d been handling travel arrangements for someone else.

They stepped up to the desk and asked for a room. The desk clerk had the nerve to look amused. “Reservation?”

Rev looked at Farnsworth who looked stricken and shook her head.

“We don’t have a reservation. Any room will do,” he said.

“I’m sorry, sir. The hotel is full to capacity. There’s a hostel a few miles away that may still have beds.”

“No. We’re going to stay here. We’ll work something out with some of your present guests.”

The clerk raised an eyebrow. “You know some of our guests?”

“Probably most of them.” He looked at his watch. “And I also know where I’ll find them at this time of night. Do you have a place where we can leave our luggage for an hour?”

“Of course.” He rang the bell on the counter and a bellman appeared within seconds to stow their bags behind his counter.

They wound their way through the crowded bar filled with people who either worked for The Order or had been contracted on short notice, at great expense. They found Torn, Gunnar, and Glen in a corner looking glum and nursing liquids in small glasses. The expressions on their faces quickly ran the span from recognition to surprise to confusion. As they looked back and forth between Rev and Farnsworth, noting the Sovereign’s protective hand on the small of the Operations Manager’s back, it was clear they had a question about the relationship.

“I can see you’re relieved to see us,” Rev deadpanned. “Finngarick. Glad to see you survived your run in with Mount Balzak.”

Torn, who had imbibed on top of the pain meds he’d been given at the hospital, was days away from sober. He collapsed onto the table and started beating it with his palm while he laughed. “Ball sack. There’s a mountain named ball sack. And I ran into it?”

“Gods Almighty,” Rev said.

Glen snatched Torn’s drink away.

Torn became serious very quickly, “Hey!”

“They didn’t tell us he shouldn’t drink, sir,” Glen began by way of explanation. “But clearly that is the case. We, uh, weren’t expecting you. What a surprise.”

“Well, it so happens that it’s more personal than business. We need to stay here and they don’t have any more rooms.”

Glen just realized they hadn’t invited the new arrivals to sit. He rose. “Sorry, sir. Please sit down. You, too, Ms. Farnsworth. These two were just going to head upstairs, right, Gun? Can you handle him by yourself?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Just a minute,” Rev put in. “Before you go, we need to shuffle accommodations.”

“Oh sure,” Glen looked at Gun. “The adjoining room next to ours isn’t being used at the moment. It’s where, um, where Dr. Renaux was staying.”

Glen saw Rev’s hand tighten on Farnsworth’s arm as she sniffed and looked away.

Glen had to help Gun get Torn to his feet and drape his arm over Gunnar’s shoulders.

As soon as they were gone, Rev said, “We’re anxious for word about the survivors of the collapse.”

Glen thought that making an assumption of survival was overly optimistic, but wasn’t going to correct the Sovereign.

“Nothing. Some guy from Salzburg got here tonight. He’s going to be in charge. I guess they’ve lined people up to start rebuilding the scaffolding at first light. Then they’re going to try to run a drill past the rubble and check for signs of life. That’s all we know.” Glen raked a hand down the front of his face and Rev noted that he’d never seen Glen look really tired.

“Long day.”

Glen looked over at Rev. “Yes, sir. Long day.”

CHAPTER 21

It was getting dark fast as they began their ascent. Raif climbed ahead of her and stopped to give her a hand up to the first ledge. She was thankful for the hiking boots with tire tread soles because the rock was slick from damp-loving mold.

Mercy made a promise to herself and the gods. If she did survive the ordeal, she would never complain about being tired ever again. Not after finding out what tired actually means as in depleted, can’t go on, nothing left, and thinking that death would be preferable to making another step.

Seeing that she was tapped out, Raif was continually encouraging. “You’re doing great. Slow and steady.” Pause. “Know you’re tired, but you can do this.” Pause. “Yeah. That’s the trick.”

He even managed to get a momentary rise out of her when he said, “That’s my girl.”

She was still mad. Beauty and great sex didn’t make up for the fact that he was an oaf who was bossy. A bossy oaf. But she did think it was endearing that he was so concerned for her safety and that he kept uttering little words and phrases of praise to urge her on.

By the time they had partially scaled the wall and pulled themselves onto the ledge, it was dark.

Raif switched on his helmet lamp then said, “You switch yours on, too. I want you to see every step before you put your foot down.”

There wasn’t as much room overhead as in the lower tunnel. They didn’t need to crouch, but it definitely felt more claustrophobic. They were also on an incline and it was steep enough that they were both getting winded.

“Does it strike you as being rather perfect for a natural formation?” Mercy asked.

“Was thinking the same thing. We may have just lucked into finding one of the tunnels the Templar chroniclers wrote about. Wish it was light. If the sun was up, we’d be able to tell if light was coming in from somewhere.

With every step the sound of the waterfall became more faint until the utter silence overtook them. The fact that they could hear nothing but their steps and their own breathing was depressing and debilitating, causing them to doubt the effort altogether. Not being able to see anything unless their headlamps were pointed directly at it made things seem even worse.

Raif stopped so suddenly Mercy ran into his back.

“What is it?”

“Thought I heard something. You hear anything?”

“I’m not sure,” she said. “What am I listening for?”

He didn’t answer the question. He just said, “Come on,” but the excitement in his voice was contagious and gave her just enough of a surge of energy to make another few steps. “There. You hear that.”

She listened hard. “Is that a dog barking?”

He grinned. “That’s exactly what that is.”

“You did it.” She sounded amazed.

“Not yet,” he said. “But it looks really promising.”

They took another couple of steps, but it was like turning the volume down on the barking. So they went back to where it was loudest.

Raif looked straight overhead and thought there was a break in the ceiling which was a few feet overhead. “How strong are you?”

“Um, I don’t know. Average?”

“Okay. I’ve got to get up there and the only way that’s going to happen is if you can give me a boost.”

“A boost! You’ve got to weigh two hundred and fifty pounds.”

“Well, I’m not Lou Alcinder.”

“You mean Kareem Abdul Jabbar?”

“Whatever. So you’re a basketball fan?”

“What does that…? Can we get back on topic? You need another plan. I’m not going to be able to hoist your big body.”

“You don’t have to hoist me. Just boost me.” He pushed a damp strand of hair back from her face. She was too tired to retreat from his touch, or so she told herself, so she let his fingers linger on her cheek.

“Why don’t you give me a boost instead?

“First because you have too much weight in your lower body and not enough strength in your upper body to pull yourself up.”

“Thanks.”

“And even if you could do that, which you can’t, you wouldn’t be able to pull me up. So unless you were planning to leave me behind?”

“Let me think on it.”

“Look,” he held his arm straight up. “It’s not that far from my hands. Four feet maybe. I can get aloft by a couple of feet and you can get me another two feet with a well-timed boost. With just a little effort I should be able to get a hold. If it turns out that it’s an opening and, if I can get through it, I’ll pull you up.”

“How are you going to do that, genius? By my math I figure that leaves me at least two feet short of being able to reach your hand.” He grabbed her shoulders and turned her around. “Raif! What are you doing?”

“Taking your backpack. End to end it’s two feet long. If I get up, I’ll lower it. You grab on and this whole thing will be history.”

“I don’t like it.”

“It’s all we got, babe.”

She tried to ignore the shudder that went through her body when he called her ‘babe’, telling herself it was just the cold seeping all the way to the marrow.

Strapping the backpack cross body over his neck, he put one arm through the strap then showed her how to cup her hands for his foot. “So here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to crouch down like this with one foot in your hands. I’m going to concentrate all my effort into one big spring. With an assist from you it’ll be enough.”

“Okay. So when do I?”

“Get ready. I’ll count to three. On three you’ll feel the pressure from my foot. Don’t let me push your hands down. You push my leg up instead. Like you’re throwing me skyward.”

“Raif, I…”

“Mercy. Don’t be scared. It sounds more Cirque du Soleil than it is. And the worst thing that can happen is that it doesn’t work.”

“I know, but that is the worst thing that can happen.”

He laughed softly. “Tell you what. Why don’t you count to three?” She nodded. “You ready?” She nodded. “One.” She started breathing heavy like she was trying to move a boulder. “Two.” He could feel her muscles quivering even though she wasn’t holding up any weight to speak of. At the last second, he said something about the gods that didn’t involve cursing. “Three.”

He exploded toward the ceiling and Mercy did her part. Live weight in motion is a lot easier to keep in motion than she thought. Her head lamp jerked up and found him hanging onto something by one hand while punching at something with the other. She heard him grunt and saw him lift himself up so that his shoulders disappeared from view. Within a couple of seconds his torso and legs followed and for one panic-stricken moment she realized she was alone in the cave.

Then she heard his laughter coming from above and a sob erupted from her core. She hadn’t really believed they’d get out and thought Raif was just trying to keep their minds off of the inevitable.

His light appeared at the opening above her. “Hey. There’s no crying in collapsed cave rescues. Grab onto this horrible girly imitation of a backpack and come on up.” She laughed and grabbed on. “Don’t let go.”

She wasn’t used to holding up her own weight, but Raif caught hold of her arm when she was a couple of feet off the ground. Having boobs pulled over rock wasn’t especially pleasant, but it was so much better than the alternative that she didn’t care. He pulled her up and on top of him, her back to his front, cushioning her body from the hard, cold ground. His arms came around her as they both lay catching their breath, looking up at the October stars, and thanking the gods for giving them another chance at life.

He turned his head and nuzzled her ear. “You didn’t really think we were getting out, did you?”

“No,” she said quietly. After a minute she asked, “Did you ever really think we wouldn’t?”

“No.”

“Why?”

He didn’t answer right away. She wasn’t sure if he didn’t know or if he was choosing his words carefully. For a change. “You made me feel too alive to die.”

She let that soak in, slowly, deeply.

He rolled her away gently and heaved himself to his feet. “I think it’s colder out here than it was in there.” After scanning their surroundings as best he could in the dark, he said, “Looks like we got two choices. We can try to find the road, but it will be slow going on this terrain and in the dark. Or we can huddle up together and try to stay warm until the sun comes up tomorrow morning.”

“I’m not sure I can move.”

“Not an answer, babe.”

“Add meanness to your bad qualities.”

“Okay. What’ll it be? Ladies’ choice.”

“It’s too cold to just sit here.”

“Then we have a winner. Choice number two it is.” He reached down to help her up. Instead of taking his hand, she gave up a groan that lasted a full minute. “The hard part’s over. You survived. When we get back to the hotel, you can take a bath and get in bed. Or eat and bathe and get in bed.”

She groaned again for good measure as she was pulled to her feet.

“But somebody’s going to need to watch you if you get in a bath to make sure you don’t slide under the water and drown. I volunteer.”

“Ha.”

It was just before midnight when they made it to the road that led to Sozopol. There weren’t a lot of vehicles on the road, but they did manage to get a flatbed truck to stop. Mercy told the driver they were going to the hotel. He said he could drop them close to there. So they climbed on the back.

Raif sat with his back to the cab, legs out in front of him. Mercy sat next to him, but slumped over on his lap and was asleep within a couple of minutes in spite of the cold.

CHAPTER 22

When Elora and Ram strode onto the Whister pad with Kris Falcon in tow, Storm and Kay looked surprised, but pleased.

“Guess who’s comin’ to patrol?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Storm said as he leaned over to give Elora a kiss on the cheek, “but where’s the Sovereign?”

Elora opened her mouth to answer, but Ram beat her to it. “Gone doin’ important Sovereign shit.”

Elora shrugged and gestured toward Falcon, smiling like a proud mom. “We have orders to show this knight-to-be how it’s done.”

“In fact,” Ram added, “the man said he was to learn from the best. Meanin’ us.” Kay chuckled. “Sincerely.‘Tis Paddy’s own truth is it no’, Elora?”

“Aye, Ram. ‘Tis Paddy’s own truth,” she answered. Ram beamed like he’d won a cake walk. “Sir Storm. Sir Caelian. I believe you’ve both met Kristoph Falcon?” Storm nodded and acknowledged Falcon with a chin lift.

“Sir,” Falcon said as he offered his hand to Storm and then Kay.

Storm leveled Falcon with a look that said he had x-ray vision. “You carrying weapons tonight?”

“Yes, sir. Just what the Lady Laiken told me to bring.”

“And that would be.”

He pulled up his jeans legs to reveal a stake in each boot and lifted the back of his jacket to reveal a laser snub nose. One of the new wood bullet models that Monq had just cleared for testing.

Storm turned to Elora. “Who’s he sticking to?”

She looked at Falcon, then at Storm. “Well, I’d like for him to go with you because he’s already learned most of what I have to teach him. On the other hand, I want to deliver him back here safe at the end of the night.”

The pilot stepped out onto the Whister pad and grinned at Falcon. “You flying tonight, kid?”

Falcon grinned. “Sure, Mac. You’re my wingman?”

“Nah. Just your co-pilot.” Mac smiled and nodded to B Team before boarding the Whister and starting the check.

“Wait,” Kay said. “That kid is going to pilot a Whister? The same one we’re riding on?”

The other three exchanged a laugh.

“Come on,” Storm said. “I’ll tell you the story on the way.”

By and large the night was uneventful except for encountering the four teenage immortals on patrol in the same district. They stopped to say hello. After a couple of minutes B Team realized that Falcon and Animal House had drifted a few yards away and were involved in a conversation that could have passed for a bunch of human kids.

Members of B Team smiled at each other. There was something uniquely Black Swan about one of their future vampire hunters engaged in sidewalk banter with vampire who passed for teens even if they were hundreds of years old.

They knew that any night out could be their last. Maybe that was what made them feel so alive.

CHAPTER 23

As promised, the truck driver dropped Rev and Mercy two blocks from the hotel. Raif had to carry her because she couldn’t stay awake long enough to stand up. He was thanking Black Swan for a grueling physical training regime every step of the way. It was just before one o’clock when they walked into the lobby of the hotel. It was surprisingly busy considering the hour and that it had been more or less empty when they’d left that morning. No one seemed to notice them. So Raif headed for the elevator with a dogged determination, all thought of steaks gone from his mind.

He set her on her feet in front of her door like she was precious cargo and fished the card key out of the battered back pack. He opened the door for her. “You need help getting to bed?”

She hesitated. “No. Thank you. For everything.”

“See you tomorrow.” He kissed the top of her head knowing it would be the last time she ever let him get that close and backed away.

Mercy turned on the light switch and found two surprised and sleepy-looking people sitting up in bed. “Sorry.” She assumed she had the wrong room and turned to leave, but caught sight of her own toiletries bag hanging in the bath. She turned around, so tired she could barely form thoughts, much less words. “Who are you? And what are you doing in my room?”

Farnsworth stood, wearing a loose silk cami with pajama bottoms to match. She approached, looking at Mercy like she was a ghost. Farnsworth knew that it wasn’t the ideal time to come clean with her daughter, whom she could see was dead on her feet, but there was also a nagging sense that beginning their relationship with deflection or lies would be a bigger mistake. “There were no more rooms in the hotel. And we’re here because I’m your mother. This is your boss, Sovereign Rev Farthing.”

Mercy’s eyes flicked to Rev and back to the woman talking gibberish.

Farnsworth’s impulse was to want to selfishly gush out everything that had led to that moment, but it was plain that her daughter was barely hanging onto consciousness. So she decided to let Mercy be the one to decide how much she wanted to know and when. Her expression never wavered from a look of shell shock. She simply turned around and left the hotel room without saying a word.

Raif had just stripped out of his clothes. He was too tired to get in the shower. So he did what was, in his mind, the next best thing. He was pulling on a clean pair of boxers when he heard a soft knock on the door.

He opened it to find Mercy standing there.

“What’s wrong?”

She walked straight into his body and he put his arms around her reflexively. “There’s a strange woman in my room who says she’s my mother. Can I sleep in here?”

“Yeah. Of course, baby.”

He shut the door behind her and helped her strip down to underwear. Then he pulled back the covers, got in and turned off the light, noting that Torn was snoring through the whole thing.

As she climbed in and nestled into his side like she was made to be there, he said, “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather sleep in Torn’s bed?”

She snorted. “Why would you ask me that?”

“Because girls like you always end up with some other guy.”

“Shut up and go to sleep.”

He grinned in the darkness and pulled her closer.

The next day the hotel cleared out pretty quickly once it became known that the missing couple was safe. Rev and Farnsworth moved to another room. Raif woke to the sounds of low voices.

Torn was saying, “Woke up with a mother of all hangovers and, Great Glorious Paddy, there they were. Sleepin’ like angels. Much as I want to know what transpired durin’ the night, I do no’ have the heart to disturb a slumber so sound.”

“When they wake up, tell Dr. Renaux that her room has been vacated and is ready for her with clean sheets and towels. Here’s her card key. I think she left it.”

Glen closed the door and Torn sat down on the side of his bed facing his partner and the surprise bedmate.

Raif was on his back with Mercy asleep on his chest. His arms were wrapped around her in what looked like a protective embrace. He opened one eye a sliver and looked at Torn.

Torn smiled like a Cheshire cat. “Got lucky, did ye?”

Raif’s gaze swept over the state of Torn’s swollen and bruised face and took in the bandages. “When are you going to learn that no means no?”

Between the hangover and whole body soreness, the last thing in the world Torn needed was to laugh, which of course meant that everything was funnier than usual. So he laughed, but the sounds he made were more, Ow Ow Ow than Ha Ha Ha.

That in turn made Raif laugh. Without opening her eyes, Mercy reached behind her and shoved a pillow in his face. “Quiet. Both of you. Go somewhere else.”

“This is our room,” Torn said.

That made Mercy raise her head and look around. “Oh. Yeah.”

Raif patted the blanket covering her ass. “Glen came by. He said your room is all yours. No more strange people. Nice clean linens. And he left your key card.”

She let out a noncommittal huff that gave no indication of her plans.

“Sooooo,” Raif began. “What would you like to do?”

“Be left alone to sleep.”

“Well, we could do that. Or I could help you get to your own room where you could have a nice bath and put on some clean clothes. And while you were doing that I could order some room service. Coffee. Juice. Sugary pastries.”

She pulled back just far enough so that she could see his face. “What happened to steaks? I thought you wanted steaks.”

He grinned. “We’ll see what they have in the way of aged filet.”

“Okay,” she said. “If I agree to get out of this bed, you agree to get me room service.”

“That’s the deal.”

She started to pull back the covers, but stopped. “Make him turn around. And I have to go to the bathroom. I’ll never make it all the way to my room.”

“Our facilities are your facilities.” Raif made a motion to Torn to turn around and his partner complied without hesitation or complaint.

When he heard the bath door close, Torn turned to Raif with a scathing smile.

“What?”

“Two words,” answered Torn. “Pussy. Whipped.”

“Call it what you want, brother. I’m taking whatever she’s giving and calling myself the luckiest son-of-a-bitch alive.”

Torn shook his head. “Out of all of us. Ne’er figured you to be the first man down.”

CHAPTER 24

When Mercy emerged from the bath in clean clothes, wet hair, and no makeup, she didn’t feel the least glamorous, but she did feel a little less like dead person walking. The room smelled like a banquet. Raif had pretty much ordered one of everything the kitchen had to offer and looked ready to eat anything she didn’t. They’d run out of surfaces and put a lot of the plates on top of the bed.

She smiled shyly. “Thank you. This looks wonderful.”

He pushed out a chair. “Have a seat. What will you have first?”

“Um. Is that cranberry juice?”

He looked where she pointed. “Could be. It’s red.” She tried it and smiled. “Guess what?”

“What?”

“It’s our first real meal together.”

“You don’t count half a protein bar.”

“Okay. It’s our first meal together with furniture involved.” She smiled as she chewed a piece of cheesy bread. “You take good care of me.”

“Glad you noticed.”

“Who’s taking care of you?”

He stopped dead still. “What do you mean?”

“Who’s making sure you got enough sleep, got a shower, got breakfast? I’m not used to being a taker. Doesn’t feel right.”

Raif’s eyes traveled down her body suggestively. “Well, if you’re saying you’d like to return some favors…” She giggled and he looked mesmerized. “Is that a yes?”

She took a forkful of something that looked like hash. “It’s a maybe,” she smiled with a teasing flirtatiousness she didn’t even know she had in her.

Seeing that look directed at him, Raif felt like all the blood in his body rushed to his groin. If he didn’t know how badly she needed to replenish her body’s reserves, he would have lunged at her. That, plus there was business to take care of first.

“If that look means what I think it means, then I’m your guy.”

She stopped with her fork in the air. “You’re my guy?” He nodded. “But you’re putting conditions on that? You’re my guy, but only if I’m looking at you with a promise of carnal delight?”

Raif lips parted in reaction to paralysis of tongue while he tried to sort out what he was supposed to say.

“You should see your face,” she laughed. “I’m just kidding. Don’t look so scared. I’m not making a claim on you or anything like that.”

Raif stood and started stacking all the food, some on the little desk-table, some on the dresser. She watched dumbfounded as he carefully built towers of food. First a plate, then a stainless steel cover, then a plate, and so on until he’d cleared the entire bed. Then he took the plate Mercy was working on and set it on the nightstand before sitting beside her. Close beside her.

“Mercy, do you want to make a claim on me?” Her lips parted and her eyes moved to his lips before coming back to his beautifully pale eyes. “Say yes. Because that’s what I want. Hel yes I’m your guy. Whether you’re looking at me like you want to eat me or looking at me like you want to kill me.” He smiled. “Which, in its own way, is almost as cute.”

He reached over, took her hands in his, and intertwined their fingers. “Sir Nightsong.” Gods he liked the way that sounded. “Let’s talk about the speed dating thing.”

He groaned and closed his eyes. “Not again. I told you I…”

“Just listen. I heard your story. It’s only fair you hear mine.” With clear reluctance, he nodded. “I’m not an overly emotional person. The way you made me feel that day, well I hated you for it. I practically ran out of there. I was out on the streets, crying and not able to stop. It was so humiliating to put on a spectacle like that. In front of all those strangers. The way people looked at me. Curiosity. Sympathy. Disdain. I hated you for that, too.

“So, like I told you, I went back to work and decided that dating isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. I told myself that I had what most people want, fulfilling self-actualizing work. I threw myself into mentoring grad students and volunteered to serve on a couple of boards. I’d been busy before, but I was determined to fill every minute of every day.”

She stopped and looked away. He didn’t say anything, but squeezed her hand in a gesture of encouragement.

“The thing is,” she looked up at him, “it still didn’t get you out of my mind.” Raif’s face went slack at that revelation. That was, apparently, the last thing he’d expected to hear. “I despised you for rejecting me the way you did, but I was also, I don’t know how I should describe it, obsessed I guess.”

Raif’s face was as full of wonder as if he was witnessing a miracle. “You were obsessed with me?”

“Yes.” She nodded.

“That’s… awesome. Also sick and perverted. But go on.”

She laughed. “Anyway, as the time went by I couldn’t recall your face in detail. All that remained was an impression of black hair, pale eyes, naughty boy beauty.”

He stifled a laugh. “Naughty boy beauty? Please, I’m begging, never say that in front of other people or I’ll have to commit honor suicide.”

Mercy rolled her eyes. “Do you want me to finish or not?”

“I do,” he said and closed the inch between them so that they were sitting as close as two people can sit.

“That’s pretty much it. The supreme irony is I took this job thinking it would be the very thing I needed to finally get you out of my head and stop obsessing about you. You know the rest. I got on that plane and there you were.”

“Can I ask a couple of questions?”

She suddenly looked guarded. “Like what?”

“All the flirting with my partner?”

“Oh.” He could see the blush start to rise in her cheeks. Fascinating. He reached up and trailed a fingertip down her face to see if it made her skin hot to the touch. “That was my insurance policy to be certain I didn’t give away that I was attracted to you and making an even bigger fool of myself.”

That answer seemed to please him immensely. “Women are evil.”

“Nah. Just me.”

“Next question. Are you claiming me?”

In a move that took the breath from her body, Raif pulled her up and rearranged her on the bed, on her back, and tucked underneath him. He buried his face in her neck and inhaled her scent, then started nibbling, which made her gasp, her body arching toward him in a ritual of reflex as old as the race.

“Not letting you up until you say it.”

She started laughing at the way her body responded to him so completely and immediately, as if her genetic particles were reaching out in hopes of combining with his.

“Yes.”

He lifted his head up so he could look into her face. “Yes?” She nodded, looking at his lips with a hunger that was both invitation and demand. “You and me? Exclusive. Right?”

“Right.”

He gave her the kiss she was asking for. She didn’t know that kisses could be so thorough or last so long. Or that they could communicate so much feeling. She felt the swell in his jeans grind against her. Her body rocked upward in response.

With a frustrated growl and without warning, he tore away from the kiss and practically leapt from the bed. That left Mercy staring in confusion and wondering what the devil just happened. She was learning that Raif liked to do things fast and abrupt. No grass growing under his feet.

“Duty calling, babe. We got business to take care of first.”

“What business?” He looked at his watch. “We’re expected downstairs in twenty minutes for debriefing.”

“What does that mean?”

“Means we have to go tell our story to our boss and my team mates. You have just enough time to finish eating and get some clothes on. I’m going to take a shower while you do that, then I’ll go down with you.”

She sat up and scowled. “That woman. Who was in here last night. She said the man with her is my boss.”

Raif looked interested in that. “What was his name?”

“Um, I don’t know. I was tired and it’s kind of hazy.”

“About my size? Buzzed hair? Brown eyes?”

Mercy nodded. “That seems right.”

Raif whistled long and low. “Guess we’ll find out soon enough.” He took hold of the door knob. “Back in fifteen minutes.”

When Mercy walked down the hallway with Raif, she was more than happy to stop at the elevator and make good use of it. There was a lot to be said for a few hours’ sleep, a good breakfast, and being clean, but she still felt like she’d been run over by a semi.

When they got off the elevator Glen was waiting to walk them to the room that had been reserved for their use. There were four others waiting: Torn, Gun, Rev, and Farnsworth. Rev was at the far end of the oblong table. At the end nearest the door, two chairs were situated side by side. Assuming that they were meant to sit in those two, Raif pulled out one of the chairs for Mercy.

She looked up at him for reassurance, silently communicating that this was her first debriefing. He nodded almost imperceptibly and, when they were seated, he reached for her hand under the table. Her eyes kept going to the handsome woman sitting at the end. She knew that woman was lying about being her mother because, for one thing, she wasn’t nearly old enough. That woman looked no more than ten years older than she, if that.

Glen pointed at the coffee service. Looking between Raif and Mercy, he asked if he could get them anything.

“Black. No sugar,” said Raif.

Glen looked at Mercy. “Water. Please.”

While Glen was busy with his volunteer mission of filling beverage requests, Rev decided to get the party started.

“This is not a formal procedure, just co-workers eager to hear what happened. It goes without saying that we’re very happy and relieved to have you back, but frankly, your sudden appearance in the middle of the night is, if not a miracle, at least a mystery.” Glen took his seat again after delivering drinks. “I’m going to ask you to simply tell us how you came to be here. If we have questions, we’ll try to save them until the end, but make no promises. Sir Nightsong. Dr Renaux. You have the floor.”

Raif cleared his throat. “I was the one taking a turn inside the burial chamber with Dr. Renaux when the quake occurred. Professor Yanov had left to retrieve documents at Dr. Renaux’s request. So we were the only two.” He glanced at Mercy, almost like he was asking for confirmation. “When I realized what was happening, I saw that the cavern was collapsing between the exit and our location. The only possibility of survival was to go deeper into the mountain. So I grabbed Dr. Renaux and we ran for it.

“We lost our footing a few times when the ground heaved under us. One of those resulted in a scrape on Dr. Renaux’s leg, but it wasn’t deep. That was the only injury we sustained, other than the minor bruises and soreness that you might expect from repeated falls.

“When it was over, we stopped to let our minds catch up to what had happened and outline our options.”

Raif told the rest of the story with surprisingly vivid detail, leaving out any mention of interaction between the two of them. Mercy could tell that he must have performed the activity of debriefing many times because he did it with such obvious ease.

At one point she was horrified to realize she was nodding off. The combination of still being tired, knowing that she was safe and secure, and the comfort of listening to Raif’s voice was lulling her to sleep like a lullaby. She jerked up when her head started to droop toward her chest.

“Are we putting you to sleep, Dr. Renaux?” Rev sounded amused.

“I’m sorry. I…”

Raif cut her off. “When we’re sitting here in this nice clean climate controlled room with a nice breakfast under our belts, perhaps my telling doesn’t adequately convey what she’s been through. Of course she’s tired. She should be upstairs sleeping right now.”

Rev was studying Raif with interest. “No offense was intended.” He turned his gaze on Mercy. “Would you like to be excused, Dr. Renaux? Sir Catch will escort you to your room if this is too much too soon.”

“No,” she said simply and quietly. Raif leaned over and whispered something in her ear. “No… sir.” She looked at Glen. “Is the coffee option still open? All the way? Cream and three sugars.”

Raif smiled at that and committed it to memory. Glen quickly and expertly prepared a cup of coffee to her specifications and set it down in front of her.

“Dr. Renaux,” Rev addressed her again. “Do you have anything you’d like to add?”

She looked at Raif and suddenly found tears filling her eyes. It surprised her more than anyone. Worse, it seemed her throat had closed up and she was finding it hard to talk. He looked at her with worry and was squeezing her hand harder. She remembered Raif telling her that something similar happened to him on the plane when she’d made an overture.

She held up her index finger to indicate that she needed a minute to pull herself together. All the men except for Raif looked away, thinking they would spare her embarrassment. After a few minutes the stream of tears slowed and she was able to speak in broken sentences. Glen, who was considerate to a fault, gathered up the paper napkins on the coffee service tray and laid them in front of Mercy. She immediately grabbed one and used it like a tissue.

“I just want to say that…” She pressed her lips together tightly to try to contain the turbulent emotion, but to her dismay her body was out of her control. She was overcome with waves of feeling that had to be released and could only find release in tears. “I was sure we were going to die.”

She looked over and smiled at Raif through her tears. Everybody in the room knew that they were witnessing two miracles. The first was being in the presence of a couple who had escaped certain entombment, against all odds. The second was being in the presence of a couple who had fallen in love, against all odds.

“But Raif… Raif joked about dying, a lot. But the whole time he acted like we were lucky to be alive.”

A look passed between Torn and Gun that said, “Who is she talking about?”

“And we are. Lucky to be alive. All because of him. There’s no one else like him.”

Farnsworth was silently crying at that point. Glen might have been resisting the urge.

“No doubt that’s true,” Rev said, recalling every word he, in both incarnations, had ever thought or said about the members of Z Team. The fact that it turned out that one of the miscreants saved his soon-to-be-stepdaughter’s life only underscored the fact that life is strange. “Anybody else have questions?”

“Aye. Ask ‘em where they spent the night last night.”

Raif practically lunged at Torn thinking he would rip the shit eating skin from the fucker’s face. Torn would normally open his arms in a smarmy challenge, but he really wasn’t in good enough physical shape, after his own ordeal, to be goading his partner into an MMA match. So when he saw Raif coming for him, he didn’t cower, but his eyes did flare as he braced for a world of pain.

Fortunately for Torn, Gunnar was sitting between them and tackled Raif to the ground. “Rafael! Stop! He’s hurt. On the D.L.” That made Raif still. “He’s hurt,” Gun repeated. “You’ll have to take it out of his hide after he’s had a chance to mend.”

Farnsworth looked at Rev. “Does this sort of thing happen often?”

Rev shook his head. “Only with this bunch. Thorn. In. My. Side.”

“Okay. Get off me,” Raif said. He stood up and got in Torn’s face. “Apologize to her.”

“Why?” Torn said.

“You tried to embarrass her.”

Torn looked at Mercy sheepishly. “Sorry. You know I like you.” He winked at Mercy and Raif lunged for him.

“Fucker!”

It took both Gun and Glen to get him to the ground that time. The only thing that restored order was Mercy leaning over Raif, as he was on his back, pinned down by two of his team mates. She said, “You know I don’t care who knows that I was sleeping in your bed last night. You’re my guy and I want everybody to know it.”

At that all the straining and tension left Raif. He went still on the floor, completely relaxed. Glen and Gun eased up.

“You good?” Gun asked.

Raif nodded and smiled. “I’m good. I’m her guy.” He looked toward Torn. “But you better control that loud-mouthed moron because the next thing he says is going to put him in traction.”

Gun turned to Torn. “You got that, loud-mouthed moron?”

“Aye. ‘Tis no much fun here anyway. I’m ready for a pre-lunch whiskey.”

As they were filing out of the room, Glen was saying, “You’re not having any whiskey until you turn over those pain pills.”

The four who were left in the room stared at each other for a minute. Finally, Raif leaned toward Mercy. “Would you like to hear what she has to say?”

Mercy took a long time to answer, staring at Farnsworth the whole time. At length, she nodded.

“Would you like us to leave the two of you alone?”

She shook her head immediately. Raif looked at Farnsworth as if to say, “Well. Here’s your chance. It’s now or never.”

Slowly Farnsworth got up, walked the length of the room, and sat down on Mercy’s other side. With a quiet calm she said, “I’d like to tell you the story if that’s alright.”

Mercy studied the woman’s face for a few seconds and nodded.

Farnsworth began by saying, “My name is Susan Farnsworth. I also work for The Order, which is how I was able to find you.”

She went on to relay the entire story. How young she’d been when her parents made the decision for her. How they and the adoption staff had persuaded her with the argument that she had no way to raise a child and that a couple of means who wanted a baby would be the best thing, they would dote and spoil and overeducate.

“In a perfect world.” Mercy found her voice. “That’s what’s supposed to happen in a perfect world. My adoptive parents were killed in a car accident when I was still a baby. I was raised by a widowed grandmother who didn’t want me and could barely stand the sight of me. The relationship was neglectful at best and abusive at worst.”

Farnsworth let out an almost inaudible whimper.

Mercy pressed on. “Why now? Why did you decide to look for me now?”

“They said the records would be closed to protect the adoptive parents and you. They insisted that it would be the best thing for you to be left alone and said that, if you wanted to find me when you were an adult, you would. The former Sovereign convinced me that I would never be at peace until I looked for you.”

Mercy’s eyes went to Rev. “And you’re in a relationship?”

Rev blinked once slowly. He wasn’t accustomed to being addressed in that tone by people who worked for him. He took a deep breath and remembered that it was a peculiarly unique circumstance. “She’s my fiancée.”

Raif’s gaze jerked between Rev and Farnsworth, but he kept quiet, wisely enough.

Farnsworth spoke to Mercy again. “I wish things had been different for you. Gods know I wanted things to be different for you. I’d change the past if I could. Believe me.

“I know it’s a lot to take in. I’m not asking for more or less than you have to give, than you want to give. Whether or not you want to be my daughter, I am your mother. You can do whatever you want with that information. But I have love I want to give you. I hope that, after you’ve had a chance to think about it, you might want to explore that. Lunch maybe?”

Mercy responded with a derisive laugh. “Lunch?” She almost sneered before getting up and walking out of the room.

Raif looked at Farnsworth with sympathy. “Sorry,” he said, before following after Mercy.

When the two of them were alone, Rev said, “Well. That went better than I expected.”

Farnsworth looked at him like he was crazy.

Mercy went back to bed. She was too agitated to go to sleep immediately. When Raif crawled in and spooned behind her, she relaxed into his warmth and the security of his embrace. She slept, but had fitful dreams and woke just before the sun was setting. The bed was empty.

She caught her reflection in the mirror as she walked into the bathroom. Crying and then going to sleep right after didn’t result in her best look. She murmured something about Quasimodo and turned on the shower. As the hot water ran over her body, slowly relaxing more of the tension of the past day, she replayed what Farnsworth had said over and over. She tried to picture herself in the same situation, which was hard to do since she’d never had a teenage love affair or parents who wielded almost absolute power over her.

The suggestion of lunch seemed ridiculous at the time, but after giving it some thought, she was beginning to wonder what it would hurt.

She’d blamed Farnsworth for not trying to find her, but Mercy hadn’t taken any steps to try to look for her parents either. She didn’t have a way of doing that as a child under her grandmother’s care, but she certainly could have initiated a search as an adult. Why hadn’t she? Because she was too busy? Because she was afraid of what she’d find?

She had to admit it took a certain amount of courage for the woman to look for her. There was something to be said for that. As she was drying off, she heard the suite door close and smiled.

Raif knocked softly on the door. She opened it a crack.

“Can I come in?” he grinned.

“What’s in it for me?”

“Open up and I’ll show you.”

She laughed and flung the door open. He had her gathered into his arms and was deepening a hello kiss when she felt him tug at the towel wrapped around her. Every intimate encounter with Raif, no matter how brief, brought a new range of sensual response. She learned that being completely naked with a man who was completely dressed was titillating.

He tightened his hands around her waist and lifted. Her legs automatically wound around him as he began walking them toward the bed. He laid her on the bed as carefully as if she was made of glass and sat up on his knees, still between her legs, while he pulled his shirt over his head and undid his jeans. He was commando, which was the dichotomy she was coming to expect with Raif. On the one hand, she wasn’t sure she wanted to commit to a guy who didn’t wear underwear. On the other hand, she thought there was something wild and feral about it that was exciting.

“What?” he asked. She shook her head. “Nothing doing. Tell me.” She shook her head. “Tell me now!” He started tickling.

“Okay. I was just thinking about your lack of, um, underwear.”

He looked down at the impressive hard on protruding from the opening in his jeans. “Yeah. What about it? I’m not wearing any.”

She laughed. “I can see that.”

“You don’t like the bare look?”

“No I don’t,” she said seriously, then smiled brightly as she jack knifed up and pulled him back down with her. “I love it!”

Raif responded with a promising smile. He started at her forehead and began working his way down her body slowly with kisses and licks and nibbles and nuzzles. Some made her gasp. Some made her laugh softly. Some made her whole body jerk in response. She lost patience and tried to hurry him along, but he refused.

“This is the first time I’m making love to you in a bed and I’m going to savor every agonizingly slow second of it.”

“Is there anything I can say to get you where I want you right now?”

“No,” he said as he blew a breath across her pubic area.

“How about please?” He stopped for a second and she took that as an indication that she could be on to something. “Please.” He looked up at her. So she started a mantra of begging until he gave up, grinning, and looking at her with something in his eyes that wasn’t just lust.

She wouldn’t have thought it was possible to penetrate so slowly. When she wiggled and thrust, he held her hips still with his hands, which from her point of view was frustrating and wicked sexy at the same time. He slid out and in with a measured precision, with the tiniest increases, until she was ready to scream. But she didn’t scream. She bit him on his pec.

“Ow,” he laughed. “You little minx! What is it you’re trying to say? Use your words.”

“Harder.”

“Oh. Harder!” He complied and thrust so hard it lifted her completely off the mattress.

“Faster.”

“Faster, too? Demanding.” He let go of her hips and brought it. It was hard. It was fast. And she was in ecstasy.

When he was close to coming, he reached down and stimulated her nub just enough to send her over the edge. He thrust twice more after she felt the hot release pumping into her. He collapsed to the side and smiled over at her, looking proud and pleased with eyes shining brightly. “That what you had in mind, Professor?”

“You get an A+.”

He chuckled. “What was the best thing that’s ever happened to you? In your life?”

She paused. “I don’t know.”

“Okay then. Ask me.”

“Raif. What was the best thing that has ever happened to you in your life?”

“It was this morning, when you told everybody that I’m yours. It… I don’t know, it made something crack inside.” He turned his face toward her. “Almost like I heard it. Here’s this perfectly shiny, beautiful smart accomplished woman,” he leaned in and sniffed, “who smells so good, and she just told everybody flat out that I’m her guy. It was the most amazing moment in my life.” He looked away, smiled, and turned back to her. “Let’s do it again!”

She laughed. “Anytime you want. Call the TV stations.” Mercy couldn’t remember ever having enjoyed anything as much as that look of happiness on Raif’s face. “So do you recommend speed dating?”

His smile melted away as his features grew perfectly serious. His eyes tracked his fingers slowly trailing up her rib cage. “I think maybe when people are supposed to be together, Fate finds a way. If they had a chance speed dating and blew it, but they’re really supposed to be together, then Fate will arrange for them to work for the same secret society and be trapped inside a mountain together.” He looked up and met her eyes.

Mercy was thinking that was perhaps the most romantic thing that any man had ever said to any woman. At least it worked for her.

All of a sudden he twisted around to look at the bedside clock.

“Oh shit! We’re supposed to be somewhere.”

She was confused. Again. Why was he always bounding out of bed and insisting they had someplace to be?

“Come on. Come on. Come on,” he said hurriedly. “Did you bring a dress?”

“A dress? To a dig? No. I didn’t bring a dress.”

“Okay. Just put on something.”

“I don’t want to go out. I’m going to have dinner in here tonight.”

Raif was shaking his head back and forth. “No. No. No. You’re not. I have plans.”

“You do?”

“Plans that involve your cooperation.”

“You might as well find out now. I’m not big on surprises.”

“Fair enough. Just this once then. After this, no more surprises.”

“Somehow I don’t think I can trust you to keep your word on this issue.”

“All’s fair in love and surprises.”

“You’re not going to let me stay in tonight, are you?”

“Not a chance.”

She heaved a big sigh. “I guess I’ll get dressed.”

“Have I told you that you look good in yellow?”

“Have I told you I’m serious about the ADD thing?”

“Does it matter?”

“Not in the least. The only thing I own that’s yellow is the sweater I had on in the cave and it’s going to be the gasoline rag for the next bonfire.”

“Whatever you wear will be almost as perfect as when you’re not wearing anything.”

She disappeared into the bathroom, put on enough makeup to resemble the living, and finally settled on clean skinny jeans and a pink gauze top. She threw her hair up into a messy top knot and left some tendrils hanging down.

“Best I can do on short notice,” she said when she opened the door and stepped out of the bath.

He pulled her into a slow dance pose and spun her around. “Just like I said. Beautiful.” He let go and pulled his phone from his pocket. “Hang on a sec.” He texted something, then said. “Good. Let’s go.”

Mercy paused at the elevator debating about taking the stairs then pushed the button. For the second time that day, Glen was waiting when they got off the elevator. He backed up a few feet and held up his hand. Raif, who had hold of her arm, pulled her to a stop.

“When one of our escorts says to wait you have to do what he says.”

“Only if his name is Simon,” she quipped.

“What’s going on?” Raif just smiled enigmatically. “Whatever’s going on, is there food involved? Please just tell me there’s food involved.”

Glen was emphatic. “Food. Is. Involved.”

He held up a finger, pulled his phone from his pocket and said. “Right this way my lady. Dinner awaits in the terrace room.”

“Sounds good,” Raif said, refusing to look at her.

They walked through the lobby, past reception, through the main restaurant to the entrance of the terrace room at the back. When she reached the doors, they swung open and six people yelled, “Surprise!”

There was a large round table in the center of the room set with seven places. All around the periphery were long tables covered in white linens and birthday cakes with candles blazing. Twenty-eight of them in all. The first had one candle. The second had two candles.

When her mind caught up, her gaze sought out Farnsworth. Raif leaned over and whispered in her ear. “It was her idea. One for every year she missed being with you. She wants you to know she thought about you every birthday and wanted to be with you.”

Mercy leaned down and blew out the candle on the first cake. Looking around she realized she was going to have to hurry if she was going to blow out all the candles before the last ones went out on their own. So she started hurrying. First Raif joined her in blowing them out quickly. Then Glen.

The three of them moved as fast as they could from cake to cake, blowing and bumping into each other, with Mercy doing as much giggling as blowing. They barely made it to the last cake and no one knew for sure if it was breath or time that put them out.

She looked over at Farnsworth who was smiling so brightly she looked like she had an aura around her. Mercy turned and put her face in Raif’s chest and mumbled something. His arms came around her automatically. “What? I couldn’t hear you. Say it again.”

All her life Mercy had wanted somebody to know it was her birthday and care. That night was the first time it had ever been acknowledged by someone other than herself. It was a makeup celebration. As close to a do-over as was possible.

She raised her face from Raif’s chest and said, “I have a mom.”

He laughed. “Yeah. You’re a lucky girl.” He hugged her and said. “I’d like to hear you say that again. Make an announcement, like you did for me. Tell everybody, including her.” He ducked down to look at her eye to eye. “What have you got to lose?”

She smiled, turned and said brightly in full voice. “Hey everybody! I have a mom!”

Farnsworth’s sob of relief and happiness, was drowned out by clapping and cheering and a horrible rendition of “Happy Birthday to You”. At the end of that Mercy decided she might tolerate a quick hug from her mother.

She reached out to give Farnsworth a friendly, but reserved pat. Farnsworth wanted to respect the boundary Mercy was establishing, but her body must have felt overdue to have that baby in an embrace. Without warning Mercy was pulled into a hug that took her breath away, not because it was physically crushing, but because her own body recognized the kinship and the authenticity of the emotion. After a few heartbeats, she relaxed into it and even returned it.

EPILOGUE

Two weeks later.

Mercy had the key to her mother’s beach house in her hand. She and Raif were loaded up, ready to leave for two fabulous days and nights away. They were in the parking garage saying goodbye to her mom and stepdad-to-be.

Rev stopped Raif. “There’s a trick to the kitchen drawer where she keeps the wine opener. You have to kick the baseboard and pull at the same time.”

Raif grinned. “Is this a joke?”

“Gods’ truth. You’ll see.”

“Okay, then. Thanks for the tip.”

Farnsworth was still standing there ten minutes later giving them instructions on how to open up, how to close up, where to go for food, etc.

When they were finally in the SUV and ready to pull away, Rev said, “No dune buggies. Promise me.”

Raif shrugged. “Promise.”

Their first night at the beach house. After they’d made the drive and meticulously followed instructions for opening up, they’d had dinner and, in the process, discovered that there was a nice selection of wine. They also verified that there was indeed a trick to the wine opener drawer.

Later, they sat on the floor in front of a small fire with their backs supported by the sofa feeling full of good food, warmed by great wine, and perfectly contented as if life didn’t get better.

“Want to hear some irony?”

“I have a feeling I’m not supposed to say no.”

She ignored that. “I’ve been thinking about the speed date.”

“Oh, here we go again.”

“No, really. I’ve been thinking how ironic it is that we caused a big enough scene to shut the place down and make everybody there question whether or not they wanted to pursue a possible relationship with the opposite sex. Yet…”

“Yet. Here we are. Together.”

She laughed. “And the bigger irony is that, out of all the people who were speed dating that day? We’re probably the only ones who are together.”

“Life is strange.”

“Indeed.”

“I’ve been wondering about one thing.”

“What?” Mercy asked.

“The whole Sozopol vampire discovery is a moot point now, but did you get far enough into it to have an idea what you were going to report?”

“Yes. Since the vampire virus is carried in the bloodstream and depends on the bloodstream, we’re centuries too late to know if they were vampire or not. But the truth is that, even if I said there was indisputable proof, I don’t think it would change a thing.”

Raif wrinkled his brow and looked confused. “Why not?”

“I’ve actually given this some thought. As someone who recently needed to be convinced that vampire exists, I had a personal demonstration. Even after a vampire materialized out of thin air, right next to me, and basically showed me his fangs while going, “Awrrrrr,” I still resisted believing it.

“I’ve got a name for it. The Phenomenon of Familiarity. People don’t want to give up their beliefs. Once a belief has taken hold in our minds, most of us will cling to it like a life raft even in the face of incontrovertible evidence. As if we think that, if we change our minds we might somehow cease to be.”

Raif was quiet for a while so she assumed he was absorbing her thoughts because they were so deep. When he spoke, he said, “He didn’t really say ‘awrrrrr’, did he?”

Vampire Hunter

Rammel Hawking 1

Knights of Black Swan

by Victoria Danann

Copyright 2015 Victoria Danann

Published by 7th House Publishing, Imprint of Andromeda LLC

***

Most people would say their lives began the day they were born.

My life was just beginnin’ at the end of this book. - Rammel Hawking

Present Day

Ram

“LAN!”

I jerked up to a sittin’ position, looked around the darkness and jerked again when I felt a hand on my back. That was followed by the warmth of a heavenly body embracin’ me, encirclin’ me from behind. That touch never failed to bring me away from the nightmare and fully back to the present.

I covered the hand on my chest with my own and sat relivin’ the images of the dream, but my breathing calmed and became even as I soaked up the feel of light kisses brushed across my back in strategic places accompanied by the sound of reassurin’ feminine murmurs. I scrubbed a hand down my face, and realized my hair was damp with sweat.

Pattin’ the arm that hugged me, I pulled away. “Go back to sleep, love. Sorry to wake you.” Again. “Goin’ for a shower.” And a drink. But I did no’ add that last part. Drinkin’ in the middle of the night is no’ normal, even for Irish.

Do no’ get me wrong. ‘Tis no’ a nightly occurrence. But now and again, something will trigger the nightmare, and relivin’ Lans’ death, even in a bad dream, leaves me shaken to the core.

The nightmares went away durin’ the Great Vampire Inversion, when we foolishly thought the whole thing was over. But as soon as I was back in rotation, on the streets huntin’ leeches, the night terrors came back as if they were rested and refreshed from vacation.

There’s only one thing in life that could be worse than losin’ a partner to vampire. And that’s losin’ a mate. The first did happen to me. The second almost did. That fear will be a close and unwelcome companion so long as we’re still huntin’. Or maybe so long as there are still vampire walkin’ the earth.

‘Tis lookin’ like I will no’ be escapin’ bad dreams any time soon. So I poured a shot of Irish whiskey and tried to picture summer days in Northern Ireland when the sun shines more than half the day. One thing about bein’ a vampire hunter. You learn to love sunlight.

CHAPTER 1

Liam O’Torvall

I remember ‘twas a few days after I was elected mayor of Black-On-Tarry, for the first time that is. A hunter, Gordy Darnell if memory serves, stopped by my stoop with news that he had seen a child near the huntin’ cottage deep in the old growth part of the Forest where the wild things live.

He claimed he’d called out to the lad and tried to chase him down, but ‘twas to no avail. If his eyes had no’ played tricks on him, then the boy simply vanished like in stories of the ancients livin’ in mounds under the earth.

That the child could evade Gordy was remarkable in itself because Gordy’s huntin’ skills were nothin’ to scoff at. He could singlehandedly feed the village in dead of winter, if circumstances called for it, and we all knew we were lucky to count him one of us. Unlike most of us who were born in the Preserve, Gordy had once lived on the outside. A stockbroker, I believe he said. He swore off the modern world and camped outside the wall for near two years before we gained permission to let him in. Married O’Malley’s second daughter after a time and settled right in as if he’d always been here.

I know that’s no’ what you’re wantin’ to know. Forgive the meanderin’, but I am Irish and what you’d call old school at that.

So I had a mind to take a ride out to the cottage to see what was to be seen. At that time I was still young enough to cut a fine figure on horseback. So I knew it would no’ take too long.

Sure enough, there was a small funnel of smoke risin’ from the chimney of the cottage. I hobbled the horse by the stream where he could drink and graze like he’d died and gone to heaven, and walked up, no’ exactly stalkin’, but no’ makin’ a herald of it either.

There was nary a soul inside, but every indication that someone had been there recently.

I stepped out into the overcast day and yelled, “Hello!”

I waited for a response, but the only sound was the trickle of the stream and the soft pull and grind of grass between the horse’s teeth as he watched to see what I would do next. Horses are wary of us, with good reason.

I took in a deep breath and yelled loud, “I have chicken and cheese!” All remained quiet. “Right there in my saddlebag.”

A small and curly towhead popped up from the brush just inside the trees on the other side of the brook, lookin’ more than anything like one of the wild things that belonged in that corner of the world. My first thought was that, strange as ‘twas, he seemed to belong there.

“I’ll no’ harm ye, elflin’. Would just like to introduce myself to my new neighbor.”

The lad stood and came forward a little way, stoppin’ on the other side of the water.

“If ye have something with which to wash down my lunch, I’ll gladly share with ye.”

Then forthright as if he was a grown man, the boy said, “I have ale. I’ll share it for some chicken and cheese.”

I laughed on the inside, but kept my face serious as I said, “Very well. You have my agreement.”

He looked me over as he passed by to enter the little house first. If he was afraid, he did no’ show it, but rather seemed fearless as could be.

“Come on in,” he said.

“Thank ye kindly,” I replied.

The horse watched me with suspicion as I approached to retrieve lunch from the sack that hung from the saddle and was clearly relieved to see me take something and go.

I strode back through the doorway and straight to the table where I pulled out a chair. The young resident had already brought a lidded pitcher of ale to the table. Goodness knows where he’d got it.

“I’m Liam O’Torvall,” I said as I sat. “And what might your name be?”

The boy studied me as if he was tryin’ to decide whether or no’ I could be trusted with his name. He must have been satisfied with what he saw, because eventually he offered something of a response.

“Ram,” was all he said.

“How do ye do, Ram?” I offered a traditional pleasantry as I took a piece of roast chicken between my fingers. He nodded and shrugged as he took a larger piece and crammed it into his mouth as if he’d never eaten. “Are ye the owner of this fine property?”

His small blond brows attempted to knit together, but the skin was too smooth and tight to allow a full-blown scowl. “Indirectly.”

Now that was an answer for which I was no’ prepared. What in the world could the child mean by indirectly?

We sat and ate in silence for a few minutes as I contemplated that riddle. Finally I said, “Mind ye, I’m no’ intendin’ to invade your privacy, but did ye purchase this cottage? Indirectly that is?”

I watched him closely, judgin’ him to be around the age of ten at the time. He looked over at me with piercin’ dark blue eyes like he was tryin’ to see all the way to the bottom of my soul. He must have judged me relatively harmless because he answered honestly.

“No,” was all he said.

‘Twas then I remembered hearin’ that the king had brought his two sons for a huntin’ trip a few months ago. I had no’ personally seen them as I was in the eastern territory lookin’ at sheep, but as you can imagine, ‘twas an event to have royalty visit the Preserve.

The present king’s grandfather, gods bless him, set aside these lands as a preserve for wildlife and for the old ways. ‘Tis a vast area, surrounded by wall on three sides, several hours ride from the gate at Black-On-Tarry to the circle of the ancient ones or the sea cliffs to the north. I could no’ help but wonder how the lad had surmounted the formidable obstacle of the wall, which is a combination of stone and thick hedges, to come here alone, but I was beginnin’ to suspect he could be one of the princes. In the flesh.

“So tell me, young Ram. Would ye be claimin’ indirect ownership of this fine cottage by right of royal birth?”

The lad’s entire body stiffened and his expression issued a challenge. “Are ye goin’ to tell?”

“Do ye no’ think your mum is, at this very moment, distressed to no’ know where ye are?”

I knew he was a good boy at heart when I saw him frown at that. Apparently he did no’ want to be home, but at the same time did no’ relish the idea of hurtin’ his mother’s feelin’s.

“’Tis no’ about her.” He glared at me with a defiant intensity that was at odds with his small body and few years.

“What’s it about?”

He shrugged and looked away as if he had ceased to be interested in whate’er wisdom I might have to offer or whate’er questions I might have to ask.

“Did ye bring more chicken?” he asked hopefully.

I smiled. “I did no’, but my wife has a large pot of stew on the fire at this very moment. There’s plenty to go ‘round.”

“Stew sounds nice.”

“My wife is a very reliable cook. But do ye know what’s even better than her stew?”

“What?” He could no’ suppress the eagerness from his question.

“Berry pie.” I watched his little pink tongue peek out to lick his lips. “Come home with me. Have a nice dinner and a good sleep. Tomorrow we will see to it that ye find your way back to Derry. And the next time ye come, ye’ll know how to find my house and know that you’re welcome there.”

He looked around the cottage like he could no’ stand the thought of leavin’, but must have known that his capture was inevitable and could no’ be forestalled forever. He nodded and rose from his chair.

I watched in fascination as he methodically went about makin’ the bed, rinsin’ the dishes, and takin’ care to put out the fire. When done he stood lookin’ at me with a mixture of patience and resignation.

“Are ye ready then?” His head turned each way as he looked around the cabin then nodded. “Nothin’ to take with ye?” He shook his head. “Well, then. We’ll be off.”

I let him close the cottage door while I looked for the horse. “Do ye know how to take the hobbles off a horse, lad?”

The boy looked at me like I was mad and appeared to be insulted by the question. “O’ course. What do you take me for?”

“I do no’ know ye well and certainly meant no offense. Will ye fetch the beast then?”

Without a word the prince walked a short way upstream. The horse brought his ears forward and watched the child as closely as if a wolf was approachin’ his flank, but Ram took the chore in stride, quickly removin’ the hobbles. I expected that he would lead the horse back to where I waited, but instead he took hold of the pommel of my saddle and swung himself up in an arc of grace that was a thing of beauty. Seein’ his easy mastery with the horse, I could see why he would have taken umbrage to my inquiry regardin’ his knowledge of hobbles.

He was no’ only elf, but royal. O’ course he knew his way ‘round a horse.

He trotted the horse to where I stood, jumped down, and handed me the reins. Once mounted, I offered a hand and easily pulled him up behind me.

The wife took one look at the lad and fell in love. And why no’? He had the look of an angel, with that white hair curling at will ‘round his beautiful face. I had my suspicions, call it intuition if ye will, that his looks were deceivin’, that he was no’ a bundle of bliss, but I would no’ begrudge my love her pleasure. Our own daughters had recently married and become mistresses of their own hearths, which left space at the table ready to be filled by a runaway royal with sharp, inquisitive blue eyes and an air of authority.

She beamed as she watched the child devour two man-sized portions of her lamb stew.

“What were ye doin’ out there in the wilds, lad?”

He did no’ bristle at her question because he heard nothin’ in it save curiosity and a good heart. I might argue with the dadblasted woman from dawn to dusk, but would secretly admit that she did, in fact, have a generous spirit.

He looked at her as he tore off a third piece of soda bread. “Please do no’ take this to mean that I object to conversation, ma’am, but I was mindin’ my own business.”

She harrumphed. “Well, from the looks of it, you were mindin’ the business of starvin’ to death.”

He stared at her for a few seconds while he chewed the bread and then lit the room with his smile. “Your husband was true when he said you’re a fine cook. ‘Tis perhaps the best meal I ever ate.”

My wife took his praise with a pleasure I had no’ seen on her face for many years. “’Tis a nice thing to say, but I suspect ye be guilty of flattery. I’m forgivin’ your impertinence only because your beauty makes me helpless to do otherwise.”

He gave my wife a smile that I suspected would someday cause the knees of many a lass to buckle of their own accord.

“No flattery,” he said. “’Tis special. Thank you.”

At that she smiled at me like bringin’ the boy to our house was the best thing I’d ever done. I found that, e’en in my advanced years, I very much liked havin’ her look at me like that.

“Liam tells me your name is Ram?”

He nodded as he chewed and swallowed, then said, “Rammel Hawking.”

We procured a clean change of clothes from a village boy near Ram’s size and insisted that he take a dip in the tub before nestlin’ into bed for the night. When we were sure he was asleep, my wife said, “What are ye goin’ to do?”

I had been sittin’ in front of the fire thinkin’ on exactly that. O’ course I had no way to contact the prince’s family. There were no means of modern communication in the Preserve and our only means of transportation was horses, either ridin’ them or bein’ pulled by them. I did no’ relish the idea of leavin’, but did no’ see that there was another option.

“Tomorrow I will take two gold pieces and try to find transportation to deliver him personally to Derry. I will no’ trust the lad’s care to anyone else. Much as we do no’ like to dwell on it, there is evil in the world. If I was his father, my brains would be scrambled with worry right now.”

“Perhaps.”

“What do ye mean perhaps?”

“If the king knows his child, he knows he’s resourceful.”

I sat back considerin’ that point of view. “I can no’ argue with that, but he is still of a vulnerable age.”

She nodded. “Aye. And I can no’ argue with that. I’ll pack food for the journey in the mornin’. Will ye go alone?”

“Aye. But if I had my way, I’d be back before I leave.”

She smiled at that and gave me an affectionate pat on the head on her way to bed.

By the next mornin’ everyone in the village was aware that the prince of Ireland was a guest in our humble village. They all came out to witness our departure. And I could no’ blame them. Black-On-Tarry was visited by royalty perhaps three times in a generation.

The boy took it in stride and I supposed he was accustomed to havin’ even larger crowds gather to stare at him. The gate opened for us and we walked out. Ram, wearin’ clean trousers, a hemp tunic and his own fine boots. Me with my walkin’ staff, a skin of water, a sack of food, and two gold pieces, one to procure transportation to Derry, one to return, gods willin’.

After three hours we reached a road built for automobiles. I glanced down at the boy beside me. He offered no complaint, but I could tell by his movements that he was exhausted. ‘Twas a long walk for such a small body.

When I told him to sit for a minute, he dropped to the ground where he stood. I handed him the skin of water and he drank with an eagerness I had forgotten in advanced years.

I heard the sound of a car approachin’. When it neared I waved to the driver. The man slowed, looked us over, and continued on his way. I supposed he did no’ trust the look of us, thinkin’ we were rascals dressed in strange clothing. Strange, that is, for his understandin’ of the world.

Twice more we were passed by, but the third vehicle slowed and stopped. It was a short truck with an open bed.

“Lost?” said the driver.

“Nay,” I replied. “We’re seekin’ a ride to the palace at Derry. And the lucky driver who takes us there will receive a gold coin for his trouble.”

The man looked dubious, glanced over at Ram, then said, “Let me see it.”

I held the coin on the palm of my hand so that he could get a good look, but when he reached for it, I closed my fist ‘round it and pulled it back. He had regular enough features, but I felt entitled to my reservations, particularly since I’d taken responsibility for a potential heir to the Irish throne.

“You’ll get it when we get to the palace at Derry,” said I.

Eyein’ me like he was makin’ up his mind, the man said, “That’s twenty miles and out of my way. And I had other plans this mornin’. But I suppose I can be bothered to do a neighborly deed now and again.” His eyes flicked to my staff then back to my face. “Get in the back.” He pointed to the rear.

I hoisted my middle-aged girth into the back of the truck, while Rammel Hawking made quick work of climbin’ up. I motioned for him to advance to the front where we could sit with our backs to the cab.

The entire trip took only an hour even with town traffic so dense I could no’ have imagined it. Who would have guessed there were so many vehicles in the whole of the world? Fifteen minutes before we reached our destination, a rain shower got us both soaked. Whene’er the truck was in motion, the breeze against wet clothes made us cold, e’en for Irishmen. I looked down at the boy next to me. His teeth were chatterin’ but he was no’ complainin’, and I was developin’ an admiration for his character.

Without askin’ I put my arm around his little shoulders and pulled him close, knowin’ that burrowin’ into the side of my substantial torso would give him a measure of warmth and comfort. He did no’ resist, but curled into me, drawin’ up both elbows and knees.

When the truck stopped, we were facin’ away from the palace so I could no’ tell where we were.

“Here you are,” said the driver as he got out and slammed his door.

My body was stiff after sittin’ in such an unnatural position for so long. So it took me a bit to convince my body to respond. Ram was already on the ground waitin’ while I coaxed my body to a standin’ position. It took a little longer than that to make my knees walk me to the end of the truck bed and devise a way to get off the bloody vehicle while the driver watched as if it was a show.

When finally I reclaimed the ground, I got my first view of the palace. It almost took my breath away. ‘Twas a mass of gleaming windows and golden stone such that I thought surely people on Earth put the gods to shame by buildin’ such a spectacular place.

I looked down at the boy, tryin’ to imagine him residin’ in such a place. “Tis your home, lad?”

Ram looked up at me. “Aye,” was all he said, but I distinctly caught the tone that revealed he was no’ the least happy about that fact.

The driver held out his hand. I put the gold piece in his palm and said, “Spend it wisely.”

To that he replied, “Fuck off,” and climbed back inside the dreadful contraption.

The guard gate was perhaps thirty feet away, but the guard was already starin’ at Ram, his expression frozen in open-mouthed astonishment. By the time we approached the gate, he had closed his mouth. Apparently the royal family had no’ reported their child missin’.

“Let us in,” Ram told him. The child had taken on an air that said he knew he would be obeyed.

“Aye, Your Highness,” said the guard, lookin’ at me warily.

When I attempted to follow the child, the guard stepped in front of me.

“Him, too,” the lad ordered.

The guard stepped aside, but made it clear that he did so grudgin’ly.

The walk to the seat of Irish kings was uphill from there on a wide stone boulevard that looked clean enough to eat from.

Guards posted at the front entrance eyed me like they believed me to be a person of nefarious purpose. I nodded and smiled in response.

The front door, almost as big as the gate to Black-On-Tarry, opened and a man in service costume appeared at the door. But within seconds of steppin’ into the grand foyer, a woman passin’ by shrieked and ran off.

I thought I heard the child mumble, “And here we go.”

Standin’ at the front door, I turned to the man who’d opened it. “Now that I’ve seen the young prince home, I’ll be on my way. Good day.”

“Sir,” said the man, “please do no’ leave just yet. I’m certain that…”

His sentence was cut short by a shriek exponentially louder than the first. Following the sound I looked up to see a woman hurryin’ down the stairs. She was easily the most beautiful creature imaginable. Even with red rimmed puffy eyes, she was like a myth come to life. When she reached us, she fell to her knees, grabbed the lad and sobbed.

Though his face was smushed into her shoulder, he looked sideways at me and I was fair sure ‘twas embarrassment I saw.

“Sir.” I turned on the chance ‘twas I who was bein’ addressed. “The king would like a word if you’d be so kind.”

I glanced at Ram, gave him a little nod, and followed the man forthwith. After some minutes’ walk, I was ushered through a reception area almost as large as my village. There were six pairs of desks facin’ each other at the edges of the room. As I passed, all of the occupants stared as if I was a leopard on a leash.

At length a door opened. The fancy man stood back and gestured for me to enter with a little flourish. I looked back when I heard the door close behind me. There was no mistakin’ the air of authority that floated ‘round the king like a cloud.

Handsome as I’d been told he was by folks in my village, he came forward to meet me with his hand extended. “Ethelred Hawking,” said he in a matter-of-fact tone.

I took his hand. “Your Highness. I’m Liam O’Torvall.” Permittin’ myself a hint of pride, I felt my chest swell a bit when I added, “New mayor of Black-On-Tarry.”

“Black-On-Tarry,” he said gesturin’ to one of two large leather chairs that sat next to the small fire. The door opened and a man servant appeared inside. “Would you care for some whiskey, Mr. O’Torvall? By the look of it, you were caught in the rain bringin’ my son back to us.”

“Aye. I’d be grateful if you have a finger or two to spare. In fact we did encounter a shower.”

While the man poured from a crystal decanter with facets that picked up every nuance of light and color in the room, the king studied me.

“If you do no’ mind the inquiry, how did you travel from Black-On-Tarry?”

“We walked to a road built for motor vehicles and waved down a ride.” I waited to take a sip of whiskey until the king raised his glass, thinkin’ that would be the mannered thing to do. “I gave a truck driver a gold coin to let us ride in the back of his contraption.”

Hearin’ that, the king spluttered and choked on his whiskey. The manservant rushed over with a length of fine white linen and attempted to assist, but the king, seemin’ annoyed for some reason, dismissed him and told him to leave us alone. The man bowed slightly and left quiet as a mouse.

When the king finished dabbin’ at his clothes and recovered his demeanor, he looked me full in the face. “So my son rode in the back of a truck, in the rain, for twenty miles?”

I shook my head. “Did no’ rain the whole way.”

“Where did you find him?”

“He was at the huntin’ cottage your grandfather built. One of our hunters reported thinkin’ he saw a child. The next day, which was yesterday, I took a ride out to investigate the sightin’.” I couldn’t help but smile rememberin’ that the lad had been lured into the open by the promise of chicken and cheese. “The prince agreed to come home with me on the promise of lamb stew and berry pie.”

The king nodded. “Mr. Mayor, Rammel’s mother and I are greatly indebted to you for bringin’ him home safe. As you can imagine, the household has been in a state since discoverin’ that he’d gone missin’. His mother was… well, she was beside herself.”

“Perfectly understandable.”

“Indeed. Most importantly, I want to be sure that you are adequately rewarded.”

“No reward is necessary. ‘Twas an honor to be of service to the Crown. And the lad… he’s special.”

The king pursed his lips. “At the very least, allow us to give you dry clothes, a gold coin to replace the one spent, and a ride home.”

I thought about it for a moment, put myself in his shoes, and realized that, as a father, I would want to at least restore to wholeness the person who brought my child to me safe and sound. With that reasonin’, I said, “Aye. I accept. I would like one other thing.”

The king sighed and I noticed a small slump of his shoulders. There was no tellin’ what he thought I’d be askin’ next.

“I’d like to say goodbye to Ram.”

I can no’ say the king e’er smiled durin’ my audience, but he did no’ look displeased by the request.

Half an hour later I was dressed in clothes that were fine and strange and waitin’ in the palace vestibule to tell the young prince that I valued makin’ his acquaintance.

Ram drug his feet and scuffed his boots along the floor as he came forward, as if he was put out by something.

“Goodbye,” I said. “’Twas a pleasure to meet you.”

“Aye,” he said, “and you as well.” Then he whispered, “Next time I’d like blackberry pie.”

I pulled back to see if he was jokin’ and caught the sparkle in his eyes. ‘Twas impossible to tell if that sparkle was ignited by humor or by an actual plan to return to the New Forest the next time heads were turned.

As it turned out, the quip was an actual plan to be shed of Derry in favor of New Forest whenever the slightest of opportunities presented itself.

Twice more in a half year’s time the kings’ men arrived at our gate to retrieve the errant prince.

Then one stormy mornin’, when I had just broken fast and settled near the fire to begin prioritizin’ my day with a nap, there was a rap on my door. I pulled the latch open to find Tommy Hillknocker standin’ there with the king of Ireland big as life, bein’ pelted by rain like he shared mortality with the rest of us.

I opened the door wide.

“’Tis the king,” Tommy said.

“I see that, Tommy.”

“I thought I should open the gate for him,” Tommy added as if his brain was as addled as some suspected.

“Aye. You did the right thing. Whene’er the king comes to call, you have authority to open at once.” Lookin’ pleased with himself, Tommy nodded. I stepped back and motioned for the king to come in. When Tommy tried to follow, I firmly but politely shut the door in his face. “Your Highness. You’re welcome in my home. However humble.”

The king nodded, stepped forward, and removed the black wax coat he wore to keep the rain off.

“Thank you, Mr. Mayor.”

“Please have a seat.” Frankly, I felt rather grand bein’ able to return the favor of offerin’ a seat by the fire and a splash of Irish whiskey. “I know ‘tis early in the day, but let me fetch ye a whiskey to ward off the chill.”

“In truth, that sounds like just what I need. If I could trouble you for that and a few minutes’ conversation.”

“Certainly, sir.” I handed him a pewter mug with a couple of fingers of my best whiskey at the bottom. He looked down into the cup like a man with a heavy burden, then drank deep.

“’Tis about my son.”

“Missin’ again, is he?”

“I’m afraid so. He seems to have taken a likin’ to the Forest and ‘tis becomin’ a problem. I’ve been thinkin’. I do no’ want to cage my child.”

When the king did no’ speak again for a few moments, I said, “No. O’course no’.”

“But I want him to be safe.” I nodded. The king’s eyes searched mine. “Do you have children?”

“Two daughters. Grown and married, but no’ yet parents themselves.”

“I have a daughter. Sweet and obedient for the most part. Rammel…” The king sighed. “He’s a lot of trouble.”

“Aye. To be sure.”

“I’ve talked it over with his mother. He hates livin’ at Derry. But he seems to love livin’ here.” The king paused and studied the contents of his mug like a witch scrying the future. “We’re goin’ to agree to let him stay. Two months at a time here. One month at home durin’ which his mother can be reassured he is alright and I can arrange enough tutorials to condense his education.

“But we’ll need your help because I’ve promised his mother that he’ll be safe. And fed. And clean.”

I cleared my throat wonderin’ to myself how he could promise that a child livin’ alone among the wild things could be safe.

He continued. “I was wonderin’ if I could offer some recompense for sendin’ someone out to check on him. I know every day sounds like a lot, but if he was hurt…”

The sentence trailed off as the king’s eyes drifted toward the fire. In that moment I believed I could see the sadness the man felt for no’ knowin’ what to do with such an unruly child. He did no’ want to break the spirit of the boy. Gods know that would be the worst thing to do to the person who might someday be leader of Irish elves. But the king was clearly fearful that anything might the wrong thing.

“Sir. I would no’ dream of takin’ payment. If you’re askin’ me to be his guardian when he’s in the Forest, ‘twould be my honor. The people who live here owe your family dearly for makin’ our way of life possible. I’m too old to make the trip myself every day, but I will see to it that someone reliable checks on him and reports that he is well. A couple of times a week I will take supplies.

“My wife will delight in sendin’ him food and, I expect, she will no’ mind washin’ his little clothes.”

If ‘tis possible for a man to smile sadly, that’s what the king did.

“Thank you. Ram mentioned that we should bring your wife to the palace to teach them how to cook.” I gave a hardy laugh at that and wished the old girl had been home to hear it herself. “I’d like to borrow a horse and ride out to tell Rammel about my decision.”

I cocked an ear toward the window and heard that the rain had stopped. “The trail may be messy, but at least the rain has stopped for now. If you’d like some company, I’ll ride along. Let me gather up some provisions to keep the lad’s body and soul together till the morrow.”

The king’s face lit up when Ainsley trotted out one of his grandfather’s battle chargers. He laughed out loud. “You’re still breedin’ them. This fellow is a sight for sore eyes, I tell you.”

He grabbed the reins and gave the horse’s neck an appreciative rub in a gesture common among horse lovers everywhere.

For a long time we rode with no sound other than the splashin’ of horse hooves through puddles. When we were nearin’ the cottage, he began to talk, as if to no one in particular.

“Rammel is rash and reckless like his mother. He has a great heart.” He looked over at me and smiled. “Also like his mother.”

“I saw her, but we were no’ introduced. ‘Twas evident that she’s mad about the lad.”

Ethelred sighed. “Aye. He has no trouble attractin’ love. His problem is that he lacks discipline, and with a country to look after, I can no’ give him all my time.”

“If you’d permit me an opinion.” The king did no’ answer, but nodded. “It strikes me that he may no’ just be runnin’ away from something. Perhaps ‘tis just as likely he’s searchin’ for something he thinks he’ll find here. In the New Forest.”

The king said no more, which made me wonder if I’d said too much. But either way, within a few minutes the cottage was in sight and I could see young Ram waitin’ for us by the front door. He’d apparently concluded that hidin’ served no purpose. So he watched us quietly, without movin’ or speakin’ until we were steppin’ down from the horses.

He lifted his chin at his father. “Da.”

“Rammel,” Ethelred replied in a stern tone that I knew might be interpreted by the lad as lack of regard. Readin’ between the lines, I knew that was no’ the case. The king loved his son. ‘Twas a shame the child did no’ know it. Ethelred handed the reins off to me and said, “I need a minute or two with my son.”

“Take your time,” I said, turnin’ to walk the horses to the stream for a drink.

The two of them remained inside the cottage for, perhaps, half an hour’s time. When they emerged, the king looked ten years older than he had when we’d first met at Derry. Ram looked pleased beyond description that he was no’ bein’ dragged home against his will. Again.

As the king mounted his horse, I said to Ram, “Ride home with me tonight. Have a good meal. We’ll work out a system to stay in contact. Then tomorrow you can choose a horse to bring back here.”

If possible, Rammel was even more delighted at that prospect. He put away the provisions I’d brought, closed up the cottage, and swung up behind me.

All the way back, he chattered about various things he’d discovered in the Forest. He asked about the genus of every tree and bush, asked about the species of every bird whose song was heard, and asked if I knew there was a pack of wolves that roamed further north.

I noticed the last question gave his father pause. “Rammel, when you come home on December 1st, talk all you want about trees and bushes and birds and the like, but do no’ be mentionin’ wolves to your mother or you’ll no’ be back come January.”

“Aye, sir.”

“And give them a wide berth. Consider it a rule. Wolves are no’ dogs.”

“Well…”

“Non-negotiable.”

“Aye, sir.”

Perhaps the threat of losin’ his Forest-visitin’ privileges would be just the thing to keep the young scoundrel in line.

The king did no’ kiss or hug his son goodbye. He gave a nod, then disappeared beyond the gate without turnin’ back.

That night, after Ram had eaten his weight at supper and gone to sleep, no doubt weary from the events and emotion of the day, I fondled my wife’s ample and shapely arse, then left to go to the meetin’ I’d called at Ren O’Malley’s house.

I had hastily requested that the heads of certain households gather to discuss the precious responsibility that I had accepted on our behalf. It seemed that, in the case of Rammel Hawking, it would take a village to raise a child.

The idea had come to me that we could combine checkin’ in on him with providin’ an education that could prove useful. For instance, Ren O’Malley’s family had been craftin’ fine bows and arrows for two hundred years. On days when Ren was assigned to make the trip and look in on young Rammel, he would stay long enough to teach the boy a thing or two about archery. Truth be told, the mention of the wolf pack concerned me more than I’d admitted to the king. It would no’ hurt the lad to have some weapons and know how to use them.

Of course gun powder and the like were no’ allowed in the Preserve, but that did no’ mean he should be altogether defenseless.

Since Gordy Darnell was the one who first spotted the boy, ‘twas only fittin’ that he be the one to teach huntin’ skills. The Widow Brennan was an authority on plants. She could teach him which ones were to be left alone and which ones would be good for everything from cookin’ to the soothing of rashes. If the boy should prove to be interested in playin’ stringed instruments, Cleary Dothan would make a right royal tutor. And so on and so on.

I, myself, made plans to go twice a week, take a book, and perhaps discuss the book I’d brought before. Mrs. O’Torvall was insistin’ that she go along on one of my semi-weekly sojourns so she could see for herself that Ram was hale and hardy. How could I say no? E’en after so much time together, I still enjoyed her company.

CHAPTER 2

Ram

I was thirteen years old when Black Swan came callin’. ‘Twas none too soon. I’d spent a chunk of childhood alone in a tiny cottage in the New Forest. I was the next thing to a feral child and liked it that way.

My father, the king, was an asshole. At least I thought so at the time. Still, he was a sweetheart of a man compared to my prick of an older brother, who was nothin’ less than insufferable. My parents tolerated the unusual arrangement of bein’ a ten-year-old hermit because I made things difficult, shall we say, when I was home.

I figured out early that, if I did my utmost to try and raise Hades up through the palace foundation, they’d be glad to see my hind view headed out the door. I felt bad for my poor mother because I knew she loved me and wanted me home. To some extent I also felt guilty about leavin’ my little sister without backup for long stretches of time, but everyone loved her so I knew she’d do alright.

Once I’d learned to fish and hunt for myself, Liam and Moira O’Torvall made sure my diet was complemented with vegetables and bread. And pie. All in all I was well fed and no’ so dirty that disease was imminent.

So far as education went, I got crash tutorin’ crammed into short visits to Derry. And, although I would no’ have wanted it known at the time, I did no’ completely waste my time in the Forest. I acquired skills that included extreme woodscraft, bow huntin’, and guitar. I even read books. A lot of them. For a little village lost in time, collectively they have a lot of books and Liam had something to say about every one of them. I did no’ object too much. ‘Tis a law of nature that hours have to be filled with something.

One cool and rainy day I was doin’ just that, readin’ a book brought by Liam with an implied promise that he would be askin’ me for my thoughts two days hence. I was just gettin’ to a part where a fairy was found hidin’ in a cellar when there was a knock at my door. The rain had covered the sound of someone approachin’ the cottage, so I was startled to say the least. I had already been visited earlier in the day and was no’ expectin’ anyone.

A stranger was standin’ on the other side of the door with rain pourin’ off the brim of his hat. I practically had to crane my neck to look up at him because I had no’ yet experienced a growth spurt. My first thought was to wonder how he’d managed to get inside the Preserve wall. My second thought was to assume he was lost.

“Are ye lost?” I asked.

I saw the ghost of a smile crinkle the small lines near his eyes. “Indeed not, Rammel Hawking. I’m here for you.”

I do no’ know if you have ever had the experience of hearin’ someone speak your name followed by those exact words. But when a large stranger dressed in black comes out of nowhere and presents himself in a pourin’ rain sayin’, ‘Rammel Hawking. I’m here for you’, it’s near paralyzin’. Especially when the message is delivered with an English accent.

My response was to stare and make no move whatever.

“I’m Alder Rathbone. May I come in?”

Well, I knew it was no’ well-mannered to leave a man waitin’ on my porch with the wet threatenin’ to soak through his skin, but his presence and his words raised questions in my mind about the prudence of lettin’ him in. Still, I was no’ inclined to admit, even to myself, that I might be afraid of anyone. I looked behind him and was about to say he could tend to his horse in the barn first, but there was no horse.

Lookin’ down I saw his boots were soaked right through, which could only mean he’d walked. My eyes jerked up to his face. He must have been miserable with the chill and damp, but there was no mistakin’ that he was the sort of man who did no’ complain or feel sorry for himself.

I stepped back and opened the door wider to let him in.

As he began to take off his hat and coat, I said, “I’ll make tea and bring it by the fire.”

He gave me a look that said he was impressed with my manners. “That would be nice.”

I set the kettle close enough to the fire to boil the water then brought a tray with cups and sugar. Since the bugger had taken the liberty of sittin’ in my big chair, I moved the big chest closer to the fire. The tea service and I sat on the chest together, waitin’ for him to explain himself.

He stared at me as if I was bein’ evaluated, for what reason I did no’ know, his brown eyes reflectin’ the firelight, since ‘twas a damnable dark day. After a time that seemed to drag by, he said, “I’m a recruiter. I work for a secret organization, which name I will not divulge until you agree that you would like to come to work for us.”

“Work for you?” I scoffed. “I’m thirteen years old.” I laughed.

“So you are,” he said. “It’s by design that I am here now. Not when you’re twelve or fourteen. But now.”

I was beginnin’ to wonder if the fellow had any success at recruitin’ because, to my mind, he was doin’ a piss poor job of it. I decided to let it play out and hear what he had to say. Havin’ unexpected company was surprisin’ly entertainin’.

He’d left his coat at the door, but no’ before retrievin’ a tube that he kept by his side. It was apparently designed to keep papers safe from weather. He opened the end of the tube and pulled out documents that had been rolled together.

“I have a contract with me. It’s already been signed by your parents, but won’t be valid unless you sign as well. We propose to give you the best education available anywhere, not just academic. You’ll also learn a wide variety of fighting skills.”

“You’re from the army?”

He chuckled and shook his head. “No. The organization I work for is not associated with government in any way. We’re more like a philanthropy. We protect those who cannot protect themselves.

“I’d like you to consider giving us your next five years. At the end of that time you can choose to go to work for us or not. In the meantime you’ll be among others your age who have been judged by us to be potential elite.”

“Elite?” I sneered. “I’m already elite. I’m a prince.”

“If you come with me, you’ll leave your royalty at the door. All the boys we recruit are special, but no one is in any way more important than anyone else.”

Something about that struck a chord in my heart. I was intrigued by the idea of bein’ like everyone else. Since my life to that date had been the exact opposite, that may have been just the carrot to make me reach for the stick. I suspect ‘twas part of the reason I found the solitude of the New Forest so appealin’.

“How did you get into the Preserve?”

He chuckled softly and a twinkle sprang to his eye that said he was unexpectedly amused, as if he had no’ guessed askin’ how he came to be there would be the next question out of my mouth.

“Walked through the gate. But what you really want to know is, why did they let me in?” He still looked amused. “I have my ways.”

“Let me see the papers you’re guardin’ so carefully.”

The tea kettle chose that moment to set off a howl. I quickly tended to my guest, fixed my own tea to my likin’ and settled down to read the stranger’s strange proposal.

There were provisions for visitin’ my family from time to time, holidays and such. At that time I felt that I had two families, my blood who lived in the palace at Derry and the one comprised of simple villagers in Black-On-Tarry who seemed to accept and understand me for who I was. The fact that I was already thinkin’ ahead to where I would spend my time off meant that I was hooked. The man had known exactly what to say, that I would be with others like me and be treated just the same.

“Any questions?” Mr. Rathbone had settled into my chair like he’d been sittin’ in it forever. Bastard.

“Just one. Are you also recruitin’ girls?”

I mean I’m no’ stupid. I’d recognized that I had a set of highly specialized equipment, and it was wakin’ up to the fact that it had its own destiny. And that destiny involved females. I was no’ precisely sure about the logistics, but I had seen enough of nature to get the idea. ‘Twas an experience about which I was keepin’ an open mind. To be sure.

Rathbone smiled. “No, but we’ve been doing this long enough to know that it would be ill-advised to isolate our recruits from the gentler sex.”

“Gentler sex?” I cocked my head, thinkin’ about that. “Is that what they are?”

It had no’ been my experience that Moira or the Widow Brennan or my mother or sister were particularly gentle. So I wondered where the expression originated. I finished my second cup of tea and signed my name to the bottom of the document without askin’ further questions. That may seem foolhardy to some, but my intuition was insistin’ ‘twas the thing to do.

‘Twas plain to me that my parents had signed the papers. I knew the look of their handwritin’. So I signed under their signatures, handed him the document, and watched as he carefully rolled it up, put it back in the tube, and replaced the end cap, thereby sealin’ my fate or so it seemed. I remember thinkin’ it was such a performance that it might have been the devil after my soul.

“When will I go?”

“Seize the day, Mr. Hawking. There shall never be a better time than the present. Gather your things.”

I looked ‘round the cottage. What would I want to take? The bow? No. I’d leave the bow. The books? No. From the sound of it, there were goin’ to be more books than I would want. The guitar? Oh aye.

“Clothes?” I asked.

“Up to you. You will be given a stipend with which to buy apparel and niceties not otherwise provided.”

By the time I’d put my stuff in the duffel I’d brought from home three years before, I realized I was fairly mobile. Except for the guitar.

I saddled the horse, laid the duffel over his rump behind the saddle and tied it down, then asked Mr. Rathbone if he’d like to ride. He looked up at the sky, which was gray, but no’ rainin’.

“No. I’m happy to run.”

I thought that was a curious thing at the time. Little did I know that in a few years, that would no’ begin to qualify as a curious thing.

“In that case,” I said, holdin’ the guitar case in his direction, “would you mind handin’ this to me after I’m alight?”

“Not at all.”

When I was settled, he lifted the case to my waitin’ hand and we were off. I trotted the horse all the way to Black-On-Tarry and he kept up without lookin’ like he was breathing particularly hard. This was a fact that I found interestin’, considerin’ that he was ancient. Probably over thirty!

I said goodbye to Liam and Moira and promised to visit. By the time we reached the gate I was beginnin’ to wonder if I was doin’ the right thing. I looked back to see the two of them standin’ in the middle of the street, holdin’ hands. I waved. When they waved back, it made me feel sad, like maybe I was leavin’ no’ just Black-On-Tarry, but my childhood behind.

There was a sleek black car on the other side of the gate that reminded me of a royal motorcade, but the similarity ended when it stopped fifteen minutes away at a whisterport. I kept tellin’ myself that my parents would no’ have signed off on a deal to sell me into slavery and hoped to Paddy that ‘twas true.

“Where are we goin’?” I asked Rathbone.

“Germany.”

“Germany?”

He did no’ bother to answer. He just handed my guitar to the pilot to stow and settled into the co-pilot’s seat like he planned to travel sleepin’. My guitar was stowed in the rear, but the pilot gave my duffel a seat. Fastened the belt and everything.

He grinned at me. “Balancing the weight. I figure it weighs about the same as you.” Then he laughed. I was a little insulted. I weighed a lot more than the stupid bag. “Flight will be about four hours. Snacks in the cooler behind you if you get hungry.”

That was almost enough to make me forgive him for the impertinence because, as a matter of fact, I was hungry.

I wondered where in Germany we were headed, but decided I was no’ goin’ to give Rathbone the satisfaction of appearin’ anxious by askin’ too many questions. Whisters fly low enough to make a super visual ride, but it was gettin’ dark by then and I knew I would no’ see much.

Since the light was fadin’ I unbuckled and dug into the cooler to have a look at what they packed while I could still see.

“Is this just for me or am I sharin’ with you?” I asked the two men in the front.

They looked at each other and shared a chuckle. “It’s just for you, kid,” said the pilot, who had yet to properly introduce himself.

That was music to my ears because dividin’ the food into thirds just simply would no’ do.

I pulled out a weinerschnitzel sandwich, crisps, and something called a root beer. My thirteen-year-old self was very pleased to see they were providin’ beer. I was prematurely congratulatin’ myself on makin’ a good decision.

I woke up when I felt the whister touch down and looked around. We were on top of a buildin’ that appeared to be about the same age as the palace at Derry, but no’ nearly as large and no’ nearly as grand. ‘Twas surrounded by a high wall, lights spotlightin’ the surroundin’ area which seemed to be a dense forest.

“Welcome to Grunewald Unit, Mr. Hawking.”

The pilot gave me a salute and winked, which to tell the truth, was a little unsettlin’.

I followed Rathbone down a flight of stairs that looked far too modern for the exterior of the buildin’. The same was true of the hallway down which we turned, appearin’ for all ‘twas worth like a dormitory or some such. We stopped at the fourth door on the left. It bore an engraved plate that read ‘Rammel Hawking’.

“Great Paddy,” I said. “’Tis my name.”

“It is indeed, Mr. Hawking. You’ll need to watch the language. You’ll find your teachers object to extraneous dialogue and swearing is at the top of the hit list.” He opened the door for me, but did no’ enter. “Move yourself in and get a good night’s sleep. Someone will be here at five in the morning to take you to breakfast, show you around, and go over the rules.”

“Five?!?” I thought I saw a ghost of a smile flit across his angular face, but could no’ be sure.

“And not a minute later. There’s an alarm next to your bed. You’ll find things will be much more pleasant if you learn how to use it. Good night.”

“Wait.” He stopped and turned back. “What’s the name of this outfit I signed on with?”

“The Order of the Black Swan.”

At that he turned and left, leavin’ me thinkin’, What kind of fuckin’ name is that?

CHAPTER 3 Five years later

Lan

I had finished my education and chosen to sign on with Black Swan. The ink wasn’t dry on the paper before I was out the door. First assignment was Grunewald, the unit that serviced Berlin. It was close enough by whister to patrol, but far enough away to be secluded. The building was a renovation, or adaptation really, of an eighteenth century grand house, set in the middle of a forest preserve that was off limits to anyone not Black Swan.

I had seen a lot of the world by then, but had never been to Berlin. I knew why we had a unit there. Because wherever you find prevalent nightlife, you find active nests of vampire. I didn’t have any personal experience with leeches at that time. But you don’t have to experience a thing personally to believe people when they tell you it’s nasty.

I had never heard anything about vampire until six months ago. They trained our minds and bodies to be precision instruments and occasionally said something vague about protecting the innocent. But crap on a croissant. We had no idea we were preparing to be the only barrier between humanity and monsters that turned out to be real. When we met civilian juvies, we told them that we were in military school. Hel. Close enough. Right?

Anyway, six months ago they clued me in. There are vampire out there. I had two choices when I turned eighteen. I could sign on as a vampire hunter or go home and keep my mouth shut about everything I’d learned. I was told that, if I chose the first option, I’d find that my training hadn’t even begun. I didn’t believe that. I mean how much harder could it be? Really.

They said they took the mouth shut part of option two very seriously. No threat was spelled out, but it was certainly implied. I had six months to decide. So. Sure. I thought about it. A lot.

The day before I turned eighteen I still hadn’t decided. I returned to quarters around ten o’clock, closed the door, switched on the light and nearly jumped out of my skin.

My uncle was sitting there in the dark waiting like some creeper from a film noir movie. He laughed when I jumped.

“Right. Real funny. What are you doing in this part of the world?”

His smile slowly faded away. “Sit. I want to say something.”

Uncle Al wasn’t the sort of guy you said no to. I sat in the chair closest to the sofa where he’d parked his overbearing ass. He didn’t speak at first, just stared at me, and I have to tell you it took every bit of the self-discipline I’d learned to keep from squirming under that kind of scrutiny. But I knew it was some kind of test. I was supposed to be patient and wait it out. So I did.

“You’re going to be eighteen tomorrow.”

I smirked. “So I hear.”

He nodded. “Are you decided?”

I looked away. “Honestly? No. I’ve been hoping for a sign.”

“A sign, huh?”

My uncle didn’t seem to think that was a reliable approach to decision making.

“Well, I don’t know what kind of sign you’re expecting. I thought I’d stop by. Won’t be here tomorrow. So happy birthday.”

“Thanks.”

I stood when he got up to leave. He turned toward the door, but turned back like he’d forgotten something. I could almost see him mentally patting his pockets.

“Anything you want to ask me?”

I wouldn’t have thought so, but since he put it that way. There was something.

“I guess it’s clear what choice you made. Any regrets?”

He grinned. It was a thing so rare I couldn’t think if I’d ever seen him look pleased before.

“A good question for a seventeen-year-old.”

“Almost eighteen.”

“Indeed.” He nodded. “The answer is no. Not one. Hope that helps.”

I thought about it for a second. “Would you feel the same way if you died tomorrow?”

His grin got even bigger. “Definitely.”

With that he left without looking back and, in fact, it did help. Immensely.

Teachers are known to go on every year about how you’d better get ready because the next year is going to be so much harder. But it never is. It’s always the same thing. So when I signed on to Black Swan for life and they told me it was about to get real, I just smirked on the inside and thought, “Yeah. Yeah. I’ve heard it before.”

Looking back now I could slap my little bratty self for acting like a punk. Even if I kept it on the inside. For once the future of dread hadn’t been overstated. It had been understated.

The next four years were rigorous enough to make the first five look like a glide on a paddle board over a smooth-as-glass lake. Naturally, once we understood that we were going to be vampire hunters, and what that meant, we began to pay attention in earnest. But here’s the bare truth of that. Nothin’ they can do or say can truly prepare you for what it feels like the first time you are face to face with a pale-eyed leech who wants to rip you apart with virus-dripping fangs.

My internship was mostly served as backup to the Grunewald Unit knights. I went to Brazil for a few months and did an awful rotation in Central America looking for Chupacabra. Ew. Things give me willies when I think about them. Yeah. They’re even worse than vampire.

I was always sent back to Berlin though. Like it was home base. That was okay with me. There was a lot of action and the Grunewald knights were good solid teachers. They taught me about slaying vampire and they taught me about camaraderie.

Then, of course, there were German girls. I mean, you’ve gotta love girls who have beer with breakfast. Right?

It was a good place to pay my dues and hone my skills.

Three years later, I was told that I was being sent to Jefferson Unit. Rumor had it that I was going to be a vampire slayer in New York, New York.

I wasn’t very impressed when the jeep stopped in front of J.U. It was the farthest thing from Grunewald Castle. A plain brick building with not a single window showing. Looked more like a prison than a Black Swan facility.

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t require frills to complete me. It was just an observation. I stopped at the intercom.

“Knock. Knock.”

“Who’s there?”

“Landsdowne.”

“Just a minute.”

I heard the buzzer and pushed on the door. My first thought was that there was an awful lot of activity for a place that looked so quiet on the outside. I hoisted my duffel up higher on my shoulder and stopped a kid going by.

“Sovereign’s office?”

“Down one level and turn right.”

I nodded my thanks and headed toward the elevators. The central area was impressive with its three-story ceiling, modern gleam and polish. The place looked like a prison from the front, but once inside it was open and light with a view to what appeared to be a park on the other side of tall windows.

When the elevator opened, I checked to make sure the down arrow was lit, stepped inside and pushed S1. A couple of girls, well, young women I guess you’d say, got in after me in workout clothes. One of them looked me over, taking in the duffel, “Transferring in?”

“Yeah.”

She smiled. “I’m Elsbeth. I work in medical.” The elevator opened. When I realized they weren’t getting off, I finally got the hint and exited. “See you around.”

The sovereign’s office wasn’t hard to find. The reception area was glass to the hallway, but I checked the plaque just to be sure. Sol Nemamiah, Sovereign.

There was a kid at the desk, young enough to be a student. He looked up when I walked in and dropped my duffel.

“Transfer from Berlin,” I said.

“Go on in.” He pointed to a closed door.

I opened the door, hoping the instruction wasn’t a new-guy-hazing prank.

The first thing I saw was a mess of blond hair. I knew he was an elf because he had some of that hair tucked behind the ears. I guess he could have been fae, but I didn’t know of any fae knights.

When he turned around, I had three thoughts. That he was just about my age. That his eyes sparkled with elf mischief. And that the only word to describe him was beautiful.

Now don’t get me wrong. I have a strong preference for the opposite sex and don’t usually think about whether other guys are attractive or not. But this elf had it going and I would have had to be blind to not notice.

I looked past him to the man behind the desk. You could tell it was the Sovereign by the way his jaw seemed permanently clenched. He pointed at the elf. “Rammel Aelshelm Hawking, meet Basil Rathbone Landsdowne.”

The elf stuck out his hand. I took it and shook. That’s when it registered. I laughed and blurted out, “You’re P.P.”

“Excuse me?” he said, with his brow knitting.

I looked at the Sovereign and thought better of saying more. “I’ll explain. Later.”

“You two are getting a try out as partners, attached to B Team, starting,” he looked at his monitor, “Thursday. Mr. Hawking, Mr. Landsdowne’s quarters are next to yours. Show him the way.”

“Aye,” said the elf as he moved toward the outer office. He held the door open to the hall and gestured toward the elevator. “Welcome to worm patrol.”

“Worm patrol? Sounds like I should turn around and ask for reassignment.”

He laughed. “I’ve been told that’s what they call rotation in the Big Apple.”

“Oh.”

Once inside he pushed the third floor button and leaned back against the wall facing me. “So what was the peepee thing?”

I grinned. “Not peepee! P. P. Your reputation is widely known. Parties and pussy.”

He cocked his head and gave a tiny smile. “’Tis what they say about me?”

“Yeah, man. It could be worse. They could be sayin’ you’re a limp dick wanker who’s scared of girls.”

He combined a grin with a sly look that I’d come to think of as Ram’s trademark smile. “Spent a lot of time alone as a kid. I suppose there was some pent-up party in me. Maybe I’ve over-compensated. I would no’ want P.P. on my tombstone.” The elevator car stopped and the doors opened. He held his hand on the door seam while I hoisted my duffel and stepped out. I walked next to him down the wide hallway. It was carpeted with a rich red pattern, like a five-star hotel. The plus column features of J.U. were definitely all on the inside.

“So,” he continued as we walked, “your name is Basil Rathbone…”

“Landsdowne. My mother named me after some famous swordsman.” I chuckled, looking down at the carpet. “Maybe she set me up for this gig. You think?”

“Could be. I met a guy named Rathbone when I was thirteen. He recruited me. Big fella. No’ quite a giant, but really big.”

“Yeah. That was my uncle. He’s not that big. Matter of fact he’s just about the same size as you and me.”

“No shit?” he asked. I nodded. “I guess things looked bigger when I’d just turned thirteen.” He stopped in front of a door with my name on the plaque. “This is you. That’s me one door down,” he said as he pointed down the hallway.

“Okay.” I waved my new ID in front of the sensor and heard the internal click.

“Dump your stuff and I’ll show you ‘round.”

“Sure. Give me five.” The place was a lot bigger and nicer than I expected. In fact, it was a step up. I could stand being called “worm patrol” if all the perks were like that.

I followed the elf’s suggestion, dumped my duffel, looked around and walked back out. He was leaning against the wall facing my door looking at his fingernails. He seemed to read my thoughts when he said, “’Twas exactly my reaction when I was moved up here a day ago. ‘Tis the big leagues. Compensation for risk I guess. If we pass probation, we’re goin’ to be knights.”

I let that sink in. “Knights,” I repeated.

I’ve been lookin’ at that plaque on your door. “What do you go by?”

“Basil.”

“Noooooo.” He drew the word out, shaking his head. “That will never do. Try it on for size. ‘Hold the fucker at bay, Basil.’ ‘Basil, jump back. He’s goin’ for your dick!’” I had to laugh. It looked like I’d scored a partner who was entertaining. “See? It just will no’ do.”

“So you want to rename me? What do you suggest?”

“Shorten your limey last name. Lan. I like the sound of it. Girls will, too.”

“Oh, yeah? What do you go by?”

He smiled. “Ram.”

I nodded, somehow knowing that it suited him perfectly. “No promises but I’ll try it out for a couple of days.” Walking out of the elevator into the Hub, I said, “Have you met the guys we’re paired with?”

“Yeah.”

He didn’t elaborate. So I decided to save the interrogation for later.

Ram gave me a tour of the facility. He was thorough when he was on a mission, left no corner unexplored. He introduced me to more people than I could remember then took me back to the Hub.

Opening his arms as if he was embracing the space, he said, “The perfect end to the comprehensive tour. The lounge. Off limits to students. What’ll you have?” he asked, sitting down at a table near the double-sided fireplace and gesturing at the bar attendant at the same time.

“What do you suggest?”

Ram grinned. “Keep it simple. Irish whiskey.”

“Oh, no,” I said, shaking my head. “I haven’t eaten in a day. No alcohol on my empty stomach.”

“Great Paddy, man! What kind of a shit host am I?!?”

“Well…”

“Let’s get you some food. What do you…? Hold on. Let me guess.” He tapped his fingers and jiggled his right knee, his brows knitted like he was trying to divine my food preferences. “I’m guessin’ you’re a French dip man.”

It wasn’t something I would have thought of, but once he said it out loud, I couldn’t imagine wanting anything else.

“Yeah.” I grinned. “That actually sounds great.”

“With tomato soup.”

“Okay.”

The bar attendant arrived. “I’ll have my usual. My friend, Lan here, will have a cup of tomato soup, Caesar salad, and a French dip. Do no’ dawdle and do no’ be stingy with the beef. The lad is hungry and very likely still growin’.”

I had my doubts that I was still growing, but I had no doubt that I’d been partnered with a force of nature. But that was okay because he gave every indication of being a force of good nature. It was too soon to judge, but I was already feeling like, when it came to partners, I could have done a lot worse. Only time would tell, but I might have won the lottery. And I might just survive Black Swan, with a guy like him at my side.

“So take your mind off your empty belly by tellin’ me about yourself. For starters you sound American. You from here?”

“Born in Santa Clara. You know where that is?”

“Everybody in Black Swan knows where that is. Crawlin’ with vampire. Where did you do secondary school?”

“San Francisco. You?”

“Berlin.”

“I did my internship there! Must have just missed each other. Es ist eine seltsame Welt.”

“Aye. ‘Tis a strange world.”

“How do you like it here so far?”

“Think we might have landed on our feet.”

“Yeah. Seems alright. So far.” The attendant set a whiskey down in front of Ram and put a water down for me. “So. About the other two assigned to B Team?”

Ram shook his head. “Met ‘em briefly. My first impression is that they come with sticks up their asses. Sittin’ up just a little too straight if you ask me. One of them is a berserker.”

“No way! I thought they were all gone. Stuff of legends and all that.”

Ram was shaking his head. “He’s real and big as life. And I mean big! I guess you’ll meet them soon enough if they’re sendin’ us out startin’ day after tomorrow.”

“Kinda hard to believe. Goin’ out unsupervised, I mean.”

“I hear you. But we have a day to fatten you up for the leeches and maybe get laid a few times.”

I spluttered into my water. “A few times?”

At that point, I thought he was mostly bluff and bluster, but it turned out that he could have had a new sexual experience every hour if he’d wanted. Girls did things trying to get his attention that made me feel embarrassed for them. The notice he got for being beautiful made it hard to be inconspicuous, which is what works best for vampire hunters. He took to wearing a black knit hat that covered the ears and most of that blondeness. Seemed like those two things combined were like catnip to women. But you know what? After a couple of days I couldn’t even imagine another partner. When Black Swan put us together, they must have used some kind of magic. They knew what they were doing. We complemented each other’s strengths and weaknesses. And it’s no small thing that he made things that should have been drudgery or tedium seem like fun.

We needed that counterbalance because there was plenty about our lives that was not fun.

It turned out that Ram was kind of right about the other partnership that made up B Team. Storm and Kay were straight arrow types, but I didn’t object to that. Straight arrows are predictable. Well, I mean, so long as they don’t let their berserker out.

Certainly everybody can’t be Mr. Party like Ram. Sometimes a situation calls for a serious attitude. Vampire hunting is one of those situations. The most serious one of us, Storm, was the one we started listening to, like our lives depended on it. And I guess they did.

Ram was technically the most senior member of B Team because he’d arrived a couple of hours ahead of them, but it wasn’t a distinction he cared about. He seemed more interested in getting the job done and staying alive than being in charge. So I had no problem with his priorities.

Kay got stuck with the nickname Ram gave him, just like I did. Not that I’m complaining. I wore the name “Lan” like I’d never been called anything else and the fucker might have even been right about guessing that girls would like it better than Basil.

Yeah. Storm and Kay were good guys that I learned to love and they did their share of snatching my hiney from the jaws of death.

Until they didn’t.

When probation was over, the four of us went through the knighthood ritual together. The hardest thing I ever did was to get through the ceremony without laughing. Every time Ram caught my eye he’d give me a look that made me want to double over in giggles. So much for decorum and solemn occasions that call for reverent behavior.

I remember how much pride I felt the first night on rotation as a fully fledged knight of Black Swan. I think my chest swelled to twice its normal size when someone called me Sir Landsdowne. It’s a fine thing to be a titled part of such an old and honorable organization, but guys who do what we did need sweet perquisites. ‘Cause nothin’ about it was easy.

Three nights a week we’d report to the roof Whisterport and catch a ride to Manhattan, which was infested with vampire like maggots on a carcass. They were so thick it was hard for me to understand how people could be oblivious. It’s amazing that human minds allow people to see only what they believe in and ignore everything else.

Even though the four of us learned to work together almost telepathically, like part of a single machine, morale was slipping. None of us wanted to be the one to say it. So we kept quiet. But Black Swan was losing the war against vampire and we all knew it.

Sometimes I wondered why they didn’t send more knights to Jefferson Unit. I guessed it was that everybody was having a problem with escalation. I could guess all I wanted. Decisions about such things were way above my pay grade.

I just knew that any night that ended with us waiting for the cleanup crew to come dispose of a corpse or two felt like a victory. You might think that’s kind of a sick way to live. After all, you could spin it that the leech had once been human and was turned through no fault of his own. But it was just fucking impossible to feel sorry for vampire.

Sometimes we waited for cleanup over what was left of the body of a woman. Those were the nights that were really depressing. The remains had to be disposed of without notifying anyone, which meant there would be no graves or memorial services and their families and friends would simply never know what became of them, would maybe even hold out hope that they’d come back. I used to think that, in a sense, that was more merciful for them than knowing the truth, but still, it’d be hard.

It started to seem like for every one we took out, two more took his place. The population of young men was being thinned by being infected by the virus. The population of young women was being thinned by being killed by vampire.

People were afraid. The smart ones were trying to leave New York like refugees. People with families tried to keep their kids on lockdown at night. But those at greatest risk were also the most reckless and least likely to believe something bad might happen to them.

As for the job of trying to give young humans a chance to live long enough to gain some wisdom, well, at the time I would have said it bites. We’d chase down vampire only to have them vanish. Poof. Like magic. We couldn’t find where they were hiding and it was becoming increasingly frustrating.

Let me tell you, it’s not easy to maintain a state of alert vigilance for hours at a time, every muscle tense, every synapse firing, unless there’s an apparent reason for it. Victories weren’t nearly plentiful enough to keep us at a safe state of readiness. I know that sounds like excuse-making, but the only way we could get a break was to divide the team, trying to stay close enough to provide backup for each other without making it apparent that we were together. Ram and I had perfected the art of splitting up. Or so we thought. We got to be good at looking like we were alone, while never losing sight of each other. For one thing, we’d usually be on different sides of the street.

At six feet tall, Rammel was the smallest of us, but he was also very quick. And very lethal.

Three times he risked himself by pulling a leech off one of us a second before we were on the way to Palesville. Twice more he interrupted an abduction in progress and sent young ladies home to rethink being out at night. Every time Storm wrote him up in a report that resulted in some honor or another, but Ram always declined formal decoration.

It was strange that somebody so charismatic shied away from notoriety, but I knew he had his reasons.

It makes me laugh to myself to say it, but his heroics were the one and only thing he was humble about. The thing is, he had plenty of reason to think he was all that. I never told him, because his ego certainly didn’t need inflating, but I couldn’t imagine a better friend and I was so proud to be his partner.

I wish I’d said that when I could have.

CHAPTER 4

Ram

O’course we knew that our vocation was dangerous, but we still had a little bit of that delusion of invincibility because we were young and strong. Till the day I die I will wonder if I could have saved Lan. If I’d been a second quicker to notice the danger or a second quicker to react? I’ll never know, which is why it will never stop hauntin’ me.

It happened one night when we’d just been dropped off in Midtown. We had no’ even split up yet, but were walkin’ along makin’ plans to meet at a favorite bar two hours into our shift. We were passin’ by a tight alleyway, when I heard a muffled yell. The others kept walkin’ ‘cause they had no’ heard a thing. I guess elf ears have value beyond good looks.

I stopped the others with a look as I withdrew a stake from the inside of my leather jacket and pointed into the alley. I saw Storm’s head jerk toward the corner and I knew he was calculatin’ how much time it would take them to get ‘round to the other end of the alley. Since we were off Broadway, the block would be short between where we were and the other side. So, without a word, he and Kay took off runnin’ while Lan and I began to ease toward the sound.

There was no’ much light, just what was comin’ from where the pass through deadended at the streets on either end. Lan was on one side movin’ forward slowly, but huggin’ the wall, keepin’ to the shadows. I was on the other. Our eyes were adjustin’ to the dark, but no’ fast enough, especially since the vampire were wearin’ dark clothes.

When we came on the scene, there were five of them feastin’ on two girls, who had probably thought they were out for a fun girls’ night on the town. The sight was shockin’. No’ because we’d never seen vampire eat before, but because we’d never seen so many vampire together in one place before. They tended to be solitary hunters. If they banded together, ‘twas typically in pairs. At least in our experience.

I nodded to Lan, but was no’ at all sure that he could see me in the dim light.

Let me preface this next statement by sayin’ that there are no’ rules of gentlemanly conduct when it comes to vampire. Our job was to neutralize them as quickly and efficiently as possible. The idea of tradin’ blow for blow with vampire and waitin’ to see who would be the last standin’? Well, ‘twould be ludicrous. The only thing separatin’ us from them was the tiniest graze of a fang with virus-infested saliva on it.

At first I thought we’d been lucky because the leeches were concentrated on feedin’ and no’ payin’ the least attention to the fact that other predators could be found in the city. Namely us.

I crept up behind the two closest to me and dispatched them before what was left of their minds registered that I was there. I had a stake in each hand. I plunged one through the back of the leech closest to me. We’d been unknowin’ly practicin’ how to do that for a decade and unerrin’ly hit the heart, even as teenagers without havin’ any understandin’ of what we were trainin’ for. I shifted the stake in my left hand to my right just as the others realized the party had been interrupted, but it was too late.

Lan had engaged two while Storm and Kay were interceptin’ the fifth, who’d run the way they were comin’. Normally Lan would have made short work of the bloodsuckers as I had. He killed one, but before he got the other, the girl on the ground, the one who was still alive, reached out and put her hand on his calf. Lan looked down to see what had touched his leg. The distraction was just enough to give the vamp the openin’ he needed to grab Lan and bite into his throat.

Believe me, it may sound detached, the way I tell this story. But ‘twas no’ easy to relive on any terms. When I think back on that night, the memory feels like the whole thing was impressed on my mind in slow motion. I rushed the leech that had his arms around my partner from behind. Lan’s arms were pinned down and he had this look on his face like he did no’ know what was happenin’. I’ll never forget it. Sometimes I wake up at night and, even though the images flee like smoke on wakin’, I know I’ve been dreamin’ it because of the residual feelin’s. As nightmares go, that one is quite persistent.

I caught Lan as his legs gave way and eased him down to the street.

By that time Storm and Kay were standin’ over us. They had taken care of the vamp who tried to flee and then mercifully dispatched the girl who was still alive. ‘Twas the best we could do for her because there was no possibility of a good endin’ to that. She’d either die a painful death while the virus made its way through her system burnin’ like poison or she’d be one of the rare females who turned. Either way, her life was over. We knew that intellectually, but ‘twas still a duty we all dreaded carryin’ out.

Lan could no’ really give any last words because his throat was filled with blood. When he tried, the only thing that came out was a horrible gurglin’ sound. I’m no’ capable of expressin’ how much I hate rememberin’ him like that.

I knew from the first day we met that he and I were goin’ to be friends. I could no’ have guessed how close we would end up bein’. I loved him like a brother. Correction. Considerin’ how I felt about my older brother, I should say instead that I loved him and leave it at that. What I regret more than anything is havin’ never told him that I was proud to be his partner.

As you already know, Black Swan has a tradition of givin’ leave to remainin’ team members when one has been lost in the line of duty. I guess at some point they figured out that a healin’ time is required. But first, a formal inquiry is conducted. The unit sovereign and shrink hear testimony and do an evaluation. All three of us would have gladly taken beatin’s instead of havin’ to rehash what happened that night.

We had flown to California with Lan’s ashes and attended the memorial service. Hearin’ his mother cry was brutal. Lyin’ to her about how we knew him was even worse.

After we arrived back at J.U., we had to face the inquiry.

I’ve never felt so low before or since. My heart felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. It was hard to walk. Hard to breathe. Hard to imagine a future without Lan in it. I knew Storm and Kay were grievin’, too, but Lan was no’ their partner. We’d spent three years together. No’ every minute, but in addition to trainin’ together and patrollin’ together, we shared a lot of time off.

Maybe I was a bad influence on him. I know my behavior shocked him at times, but I never went so far that he did no’ forgive me for embarrassin’ him or gettin’ him into a situation no’ of his own choosin’.

Sometimes things come in pairs of opposites. The worst thing that ever happened to me was quickly followed by the best thing that ever happened to me.

CHAPTER 5

Ram

I glanced over at Monk. He was sittin’ off to the side, listenin’ to us tell the story, no’ sayin’ a word or givin’ anything away. I guess he was hopin’ we’d forget he was there, but if he really thought that was goin’ to happen, he did no’ know Black Swan knights as well as he thought.

We’d each told what we remembered about that night. I guess they’d done a good job of trainin’ us to be good witnesses because our stories matched exactly. To my very great relief it seemed like the ordeal was nearin’ an end. I was packed and could no’ wait to get to my cottage in the New Forest and close the door. I thought the best way for me to process what had happened was alone.

‘Twas what I was thinkin’ about when I was hit with a blast of hot air. I stood and looked around for the cause. My remainin’ teammates were doin’ the same thing and we all had alarm written on our faces.

At first we did no’ see anything out of the ordinary, but then there was a burst of light and a loud pop. Something materialized out of thin air and fell to the floor. If I was a squeamish sort, I’d say it made a sickenin’ sound when it plopped on the flagstone.

Nobody moved. We just stood there starin’ at it. I mean, we’d seen a lot of strange stuff. No’ just vampire. Occasionally Black Swan sends knights to investigate other things no’ supposed to exist. But this was a new one.

I stepped toward it cautiously and leaned closer to get a better look.

“What is that?” I asked.

Whatever it was, it was unrecognizable. I mean we could see it was a creature, but it was so torn and bloody ‘twas hard to make out much beyond that.

Kay looked at Storm and said, “Shaped like a human.”

Well, duh.

Sol looked at Kay and said, “Not much of a recommendation. So are lots of things that aren’t.”

At first I thought that the feelin’ I was gettin’ was the after effect of adrenaline. Seemed just that unpleasant, but different. I mean, when that gruesome thing lyin’ on the floor started moanin’ and tryin’ to move, it made me feel sick. No’ that I really had experience with human-type illnesses, but I’d seen enough to guess that it was no’ fun.

I did no’ know what the thing was. I just knew it was no’ good and it was too much of a coincidence that it came out of nowhere and landed in J.U.’s Chamber.

‘Tis hard to explain my reaction. It felt like the creature was clawin’ at me from the inside. Plus the fact that I’d got hard lookin’ at a pile of goo was both disgustin’ and disturbin’. Gave me plenty of reason to hate that thing and believe ‘twas an evil in our midst.

So, as usual, I said what was on my mind. “I have a bad feelin’ about this. I think we should kill it. Kill it now.”

It seemed like a good idea at the time.

Storm had moved closest to it and it looked like the thing tried to reach out to him. He got down on one knee and looked like he was goin’ to try to pick it up. I thought he’d gone mad, and I was no’ the only one.

Sol said, “Don’t touch it! We don’t know what it is. It could be anything… a disguised machine or a suicide mission carrying explosives or toxic chemicals. Or a spell!”

I thought that last one was a bit of a reach, but I suppose ‘tis his job to consider all possibilities.

Storm acted like the sovereign had no’ said a word. He just quietly went about doin’ what he was doin’ and said, “Call the infirmary. Get them ready for an incoming emergency.”

As I’ve already said, that was no’ my first choice, but I’d been teammates with Engel Storm long enough to respect him more than anyone I knew, since Lan was no longer alive. So if that was his play, I was goin’ to back him up.

I started toward the wall phone.

“Ignore that!” Sol demanded. “Are you not hearing me?” He wheeled on me. “Hawking, don’t you move another step!”

I hesitated for a couple of seconds. Disobeyin’ a direct order from a sovereign was a serious offense, but somehow, on the heels of Lan’s death, such things did no’ seem important. Storm was the one I counted on in the field. It felt like my first allegiance was to him. Always.

Still, I tried to make light of it by sayin’, “Sorry. You know we do no’ do orders.”

“I’m not joking!” Sol looked at me like I’d lost my fuckin’ mind. And maybe I had. “Two minutes ago you were voting to kill it now.”

That was true. I did no’ have an explanation that anyone outside B Team would understand, so I did no’ bother to offer one. With a defiance that some might say was no’ that surprisin’, I punched in the code and said, “Stormy’s call.”

By that time Storm was strugglin’ to get the thing in his arms and get to his feet which, again, made me dubious about the nature of the creature. I mean Storm was a very big guy who could bench press me on a bet. One thing was for sure, the creature was heavier than it looked.

Seein’ that, Kay squatted down on the opposite side of it, facin’ Storm, and said, “Might be better to have them send a gurney. You could be causing more damage.” He glanced down for just a second, then added, “If that’s possible.”

Storm shook his head. “No time.”

Kay nodded, comin’ to the same conclusion as myself. Whatever Storm was thinkin’, we were on his side. Kay helped lift the creature so that Storm could get a good enough grip to carry it. “Hope you know what you’re doing.”

Kay and I walked behind Storm. He was clearly strugglin’ with both the weight and the mess. No doubt it was slippery with all those fluids oozin’. He was breathing heavy, but I could hear him tryin’ to say soothing things to the bundle of goo in his arms.

When we were close to the infirmary Kay and I jogged ahead. They should have been ready for us because they’d been warned we were on the way.

I crashed through the swingin’ doors and yelled, “Where do you want us?”

Within seconds the med team had moved the creature from Storm’s arms to a gurney. The medics hustled away askin’ questions about the nature of the injury. Great Paddy! How were we supposed to say how it had been hurt? We did no’ even know what it was!

They disappeared behind double doors and made it clear we were no’ welcome beyond.

Storm just stood there starin’ at those closed doors. Made me wonder if he was touched with the PTSD. I nudged his shoulder and said, “Good call. They’re takin’ care of it. Now let’s go get a drink and say goodbye. We will no’ be seein’ each other again for a while.”

Kay said something about drinkin’ and bein’ Irish, but slapped me on the back and started away with me. He happened to look down at his clothes and seemed to realize, for the first time, that he was wearin’ a lot of gore.

“We might want to grab a shower and a change first,” he said.

He must have been talkin’ about Storm and himself when he said “we” because my clothes were fine. I turned ‘round to say something to Storm, but he had no’ moved. He was just standin’ there still starin’ at the door. At that point I was beginnin’ to be concerned.

“You comin’?” I asked.

Kay gave me a look that said he was also worried about the uncharacteristic behavior.

Storm did no’ move nor did he answer.

So Kay walked back to his side and said, “Hey. What’s up? We’ve seen stranger stuff than this.”

I concurred by addin’, “Lots stranger.”

Storm blinked, looked down at the bloody mess on his clothes, and said, “These are gonna have to be burned.”

Kay nodded without takin’ his eyes off his partner. “Yeah. Probably. Let’s get cleaned up and grab a whiskey.”

Storm looked between the two of us and said, “Thanks for the backup.” But he still did no’ look like he was fully present and accounted for.

I could see that Kay wasn’t buyin’ it either, but he let it pass and, seein’ the wisdom in that, I decided to do the same.

“I’m gonna hang out here a while and see what happens,” Storm said. He looked back at the door. “You know. Curious.”

I leaned against the wall thinkin’ I might as well get comfy, but Kay shocked the fool out of me by sayin’, “Okay. Call if you need us. We’ll be close.”

I could only guess that Kay was cravin’ whiskey like I was. I turned to start toward the door when Sol came stormin’ through lookin’ like he was takin’ scalps. If we’d left two minutes before, we would have got away clean.

“Stop right there!” He stalked toward us while the door closed behind him and motioned us toward the empty waitin’ room. We did no’ sit down and neither did he.

“Look”, he started, “I know you three are going through a rough patch. I’ve been there. Lan meant something to you. I understand that better than you think. Teammates always feel that way, but you just took it upon yourselves to make a decision that could endanger everybody in this unit.”

I did no’ roll my eyes, but that sounded like exaggeration to me. Nonetheless, even I know no’ to poke the sovereign when he’s on a tirade. Especially no’ that particular sovereign.

“I know you’ve got problems with authority. Hell. That’s half the reason why you’re here. But you either compromise with the management - that would be me - or you’re no good to this organization.” He looked at each of us, one at a time, like he was tryin’ to drive his point home. “Is there any chance I’m making myself clear?”

Kay and I nodded, but Stormy just stared at Sol. Actin’ the stubborn fool if you ask me. I mean it does no’ cost much to let Sol think he’s in charge and it keeps him out of our way.

Sol ran his hand over his buzz cut and said, “We have to finish the inquiry.”

I blew out a big breath that barely disguised the ‘Great Paddy’ on my tongue. I needed a drink.

He must have seen something in our faces because he said, “But we can do it another day.”

Let me tell you, Sol bein’ a softee is almost scarier than Sol on the warpath. Makes you wonder what’s comin’ next. I figured, whatever it was, would go down easier if it was chasin’ after a glass of fine Irish whiskey.

Storm insisted that he wanted to stay a while. And I noticed that I was feelin’ better ever since the bloody visitor had been taken behind closed doors.

Out of sight. Out of mind. Or so I thought.

CHAPTER 6

Ram

The next mornin’ Storm came out to say goodbye when Kay and I were takin’ off for leave.

“Come home with me. We’ve got plenty of room and my family is crazy about you.” Kay tried one last time to get Storm to change his mind about stayin’.

“Yeah. I appreciate it, but I’m gonna take my leave here,” Storm answered.

“You sure?” Kay said. Storm nodded. Putting an affectionate hand on his partner’s shoulder, Kay said, “You know that ‘Confucius say’ about being responsible for someone if you save their life?”

“Yeah?”

“Well. It’s not true.”

Storm laughed good-naturedly. “I’m good. It’s what I want. Go home. Make home movies of you having marathon sex with your girl. Eat nachos and tacos and burritos and whatever else. Annoy the hell out of your sisters. And I’ll be here when you get back.”

Turnin’ to me, he said. “Rammel. Take care. Don’t forget how to get back here.”

I went through the motion of smilin’ without feelin’ it and wondered if I’d ever feel like smilin’ again. “Aye. See you in October.”

“October,” he repeated and I thought it sounded as wistful as I felt.

I caught a company plane to Edinburgh. Farnsworth had arranged for a private charter that would get me within strikin’ distance of the New Forest. I was the only one on the plane, which was good by me. I was cravin’ my own company something fierce and just wanted to be left alone while I sorted out my feelin’s about Lan bein’ gone and how he’d died.

When Storm saw us off, we all knew that there was a question mark about the future. Some guys did no’ come back after losin’ a teammate. I did no’ know how I’d feel about it after three months away. At that point, I was just takin’ it one day at a time.

Liam kept my white mare for me, made sure she was cared for and exercised. She was a magnificent animal and I enjoyed the ride to the cottage. She was eager for a run and I thought the poundin’ reverberatin’ through my body would do me good. It did. But no’ nearly as much good as steppin’ off the horse in front of my cottage. It felt like the first time I’d taken in a full breath, all the way down to the bottom of my lungs, since I’d looked across that alley and seen Lan bein’ murdered.

I listened to the quiet. No sounds but birdsong and the rustle of leaves. I would no’ want it told widely, but knowin’ I was completely alone, I buried my face in the horse’s neck and cried like a baby. It felt like the hole that had opened up inside me would never be filled. It would always be a giant gapin’ wound.

And I wished it had been me, instead of Lan. If life was bein’ passed out to the deservin’, he was a hel of a lot more deservin’.

I passed the time much as I did when I’d been there as a child. I hunted. I fished. I read. I played the guitar. I observed the creatures in the woods.

When I had bad dreams about Lan’s death, I got up in the night and poured myself a shot of amber gold elixir. I did no’ drink straight out of the bottle because I know ‘tis a slippery slope. Especially when you’re alone with nothin’ for company but your own demons.

I was certain the New Forest would take me in its embrace and give me healin’. It had always been my refuge. No’ to get overly poetic, but to me it had been the essence of home, a light in the dark. And it had never failed to give me comfort.

Until then.

After six weeks of wrestlin’ with the horror of losin’ my partner and best friend, watchin’ his throat ripped away from his body five feet away from where I was standin’, horrified and useless, I came to the unavoidable conclusion that solitude was no’ workin’. I thought perhaps a distraction might.

Instead of drinkin’ alone, perhaps drinkin’ with others…

So I tidied up the cottage, stuffed the duffel, and headed back to the modernity of nightlife in Belfast. I got a room over one of the rowdiest bars in the whole of the town, thinkin’ that I would no’ sleep deeply enough to have nightmares. It was sound logic and might have worked except for the fact that I was drinkin’ and fuckin’ at night then sleepin’ all the day long when it was relatively quiet.

After a couple of weeks of that I was restless and ready to move on. I paid the bill, gathered my belongin’s, pulled my cap down low and walked to the motorway. After a time I caught a ride with a truck driver.

Openin’ the passenger door, I said, “How far south are ye goin’?”

“Goin’ home,” he said. “I can take you as far as Ballynahich.”

“Much obliged,” I said, climbin’ up.

Within minutes of findin’ shelter inside the vehicle, the drizzle turned into a peltin’ rain and I was grateful to be out of it. The windshield blades were workin’ hard to give us visibility, but ‘twas a losin’ proposition.

“You know,” he said, glancin’ over at me, “you look a little like the younger prince.”

I smiled. “Yeah. I’m told so often. I think I’m better lookin’ than the royal fucker though.”

He laughed and said, “I’m Kevin Durry.”

I hesitated, no’ wantin’ to give my name. Before I knew it I heard myself sayin’, “Basil Landsdowne.” It gave me the eeriest feelin’ to have claimed to be my departed partner, but at the same time I had the strange sense that he was somehow kept alive by my speakin’ his name out loud.

“So what’s waitin’ for ye down south?”

“Hopin’ to make my way to Dublin.”

“Got a job waitin’ there?”

I shook my head. “Whiskey and women.”

He laughed. I took him for forty, give or take. “I remember a time when those two pursuits were the most important things in my life.”

“Yeah? What about now?”

“Got a wife and two boys. Got a cat, but I do no’ claim it. Belongs to my wife.” He chuckled. “’Tis a solid life. A good life. And I have a new perspective on what’s important.”

“Sounds like you’re a lucky man.”

“Indeed. I could no’ ask for more.” He turned to me with a mischievous gleam in his eye. “Unless ‘twas a palace in Derry, o’course.”

Busted. I looked at the road ahead. “I’m sure ‘tis no’ all ‘tis thought to be.”

Out of the corner of my eye I could see that Kevin Durry was nodding. “Nothin’ ever is.”

“But still, is there no’ something more you dream about? Havin’ or doin’ or bein’?”

“Well, everyone has something like that I suppose. I always wanted to play the fiddle, but I’m thinkin’ ‘tis too late for that.”

“Maybe. Maybe no’,” I answered.

He let me off. “Here we are. Best of luck to ye, young… Basil, was it?”

“Aye. Thanks again, Kevin.”

He drove away, revealin’ that he had let me off across the street from an establishment named the Ramery Inn. For the first time since Lan’s death, I laughed out loud.

I trotted across the street and got a room. I was still damp from the drizzle earlier. Dry clothes, hot tea, and a nap in clean sheets seemed like a brilliant idea. ‘Twas the first time since Lan’s death that my first impulse was no’ whiskey. I’m no’ much of a philosopher, but I took it as a sign of spiritual progress.

It took three more rides to get to Dublin’s Temple Bar on the Liffey. As it turned out, my relief from the urge to drink was temporary.

‘Twas no’ my first time in the capital of drink, song, and girls. I knew my way ‘round and knew exactly where I would stay. There was a pub a few blocks away from the tourist haunts that had rooms above. There are no’ that many tourists in mid-September, but there were always some.

I spent the next two weeks lookin’ for ways to keep my mind off what had happened. I drank. I whored. I fished. I even went to the zoo. Nothin’ alleviated the lost feelin’ that had settled into my gut and taken up residence.

Finally I came to the conclusion that runnin’ was no’ helpin’. Black Swan spelled out how grief leave was supposed to be spent. It was even in a manual. Associates of the slain were supposed to go home, spend time in familiar surroundin’s amid familiar people, like friends and family. ‘Twas supposed to be a reminder of what we’re fightin’ for I think.

I wondered if there was something wrong with me because that’s the last thing I wanted. Still, bein’ impulsive was no’ gettin’ me any closer to peace or makin’ a decision about whether or no’ I wanted to go back to Black Swan.

I wandered the streets around Temple Bar with my black knit cap pulled low and hands in my pockets. I walked along the river, strolled the university grounds, and felt nothin’ so much as the feelin’ of loss that was beginnin’ to be as much a part of me as my hands or feet. Nothin’ interested me. Nothin’ cheered me. Nothin’, no’ even whiskey, took the edge off the pain. Orgasms gave me a few seconds of pleasure and blessed nothin’ness, but before I could even get my pants zipped, the plague of sorrow was back like a devil sittin’ on my shoulders.

Every now and then the sound of laughter would make me raise my head to see who ‘twas that was enjoyin’ life. I hated people who laughed. Everything about that seemed wrong. Lan was dead.

I asked myself what I would do if I decided no’ to report to Jefferson Unit on October 2nd. My life, since the age of thirteen, had been spent in preparation to be a Black Swan knight. And regardless of the fact that I had failed to save my partner from the end all knights fear, and expect, I knew I was good at it.

Concludin’ that driftin’ in a whiskey haze was never goin’ to make things better, I took a taxi to the airport and, for the first time in my life, got a ticket on a commercial airline. For New York.

While I was waitin’ for boardin’, I called Farnsworth and asked for a favor.

~~~

Kevin Durry answered the knock at his door, wondering who might be calling on a Sunday morning. A studious-looking man stood on the stoop holding a beautifully polished violin in one hand and its case in the other.

“Mr. Durry?”

“Aye?”

“I’m Miles Copeland, your teacher. You’ve been given a fine instrument and music lessons for life or as long as you wish, whichever comes first.”

Kevin Durry stared at Mr. Copeland for a full minute before he started to laugh. “Come bearin’ dreams, have ye? Well, then, do no’ just stand there. Come inside. I have some fiddlin’ to learn.”

~~~

Aer Lingus landed at JFK a little before two in the afternoon. I looked out the window, thinkin’ that the gray sky looked just the same on the other side of the Atlantic. I let a taxi driver stow the duffel in the trunk of his cab.

“Club Quarters hotel. You know where it is?”

“Yeah.”

Frankly I was impressed by that because the Club Quarters was a tiny hotel and off the beaten track. I had noticed it when we’d been on patrol in the area and ‘twas the only reason I picked it.

The closer we got to Manhattan, the greater was my sense of dread, and I was startin’ to think I’d made a bad choice. Still, I figured the only way I was goin’ to decide whether or no’ I’d quit Black Swan was to confront the nightmare.

I guess I was lucky they had a room. It had no’ occurred to me that they would no’ until the desk clerk said, “You’re in luck. We’ve had a cancellation.”

“I’m in luck,” I said drily, no’ feelin’ so in the least.

A bell hop, younger than I, showed me to the room.

I said, “Just a minute,” then fished through the stuff in my duffel. I retrieved my Dopp kit, then handed the entire duffel to the kid. In truth he was probably only a couple of years younger than I, but I think Black Swan knights tend to age faster on the inside. At least that’s how I was feelin’. Old. “Take this and get everything laundered, even the duffel.” I handed him an Irish fifty pound note and said, “There’ll be another one of those if you can get it done by ten o’clock tonight.”

He turned the note over in his hand as if he thought it might be play money.

“Oh, sorry. I did no’ change money. I’m sure there’s a currency converter near here, but ‘tis worth about,” I stopped to do a mental calculation, “seventy-five dollars.”

His face lit up. “Thank you, sir. You will have these back by ten tonight.”

“Good man,” I said.

Then he was gone and I was left with nothin’ but my own thoughts and traffic noise driftin’ up from several stories below. Old single pane windows do no’ shut out a lot of noise nor keep in a lot of heat. I headed downstairs to the street in pursuit of the thing that had brought me there.

The alley where Lan had died was only three blocks away. I’m sure I was stiff from long hours on the plane and the walk would probably have felt good if I’d been aware of my body.

I spent a lot of time in midtown, but rarely saw it in daylight. The city felt like an entirely different place. Or maybe ‘twas just knowin’ that vampire were no’ out and about.

Within a few minutes I was standin’ on the very spot where it happened. I was first struck by the fact that it was clean. Five vampire, two girls, and one knight lost their lives, but there was no’ a hint of it. I supposed that was the whole point of havin’ a well-trained, well-paid cleanup crew.

I do no’ know if it would have made me feel better to find traces of blood. Probably no’. Still, it seemed wrong that every sign had been erased.

A sudden gust of cold wind blew through the alley. I pulled the collar of my boiled wool jacket close to my throat and slid down the brick wall until I squatted with my back to it. I do no’ know how long I stayed like that, relivin’ the scene in my mind. But the light was fadin’ when I stood up.

There was a deli across the street that had counter seats facin’ the windows. I walked over, ordered a corned beef on rye big enough to feed two grown men or one Black Swan knight, and sat down where I could see the alley. I stayed there and watched it get dark. The lights of the city came on when dusk turned the sky charcoal gray.

I can no’ say where my thoughts took me durin’ that time. I think I mostly thought about my partner, what sort of man he’d become right in front of my eyes, as we grew up together. I stared straight ahead at that alley replayin’ all the things we’d shared in my head, work and play.

I heard someone say, “Closing down, sir.”

I looked up at the fella speakin’ and nodded. “Okay.”

It was late enough that the street was quieter. I walked across and stood in the alley again, thinkin’ that, at the very least, there ought to be a plaque with his name on it.

I do no’ know if I said it out loud or no’, but I was askin’, “What would you want me to do, Lan?”

And I heard his answer clearly as if he’d spoken to me in physical form. I will never know if ‘twas my imagination or my friend speakin’ to me from beyond. But I heard him say, “Go back, Ram. If not for you, then do it for me. There’s a job to finish. And a whole lot of living still to do. Don’t let my death define either my life or yours.”

The pall that had hung so heavy seemed to give way in that moment and I felt myself take a breath in. All the way to the bottom of my lungs. It was as if I’d decided to live after all, and a peace settled over me that I had thought I’d never experience again.

Lan’s death would no’ define his life.

‘Twas then I felt it, that sixth sense that hunters develop after a while. I knew without physical sight that there was a vamp close by. My head had been in such a fog I’d let myself get caught in Midtown after midnight without a sign of a weapon.

I looked around. The light was dim, but next to the dumpsters somebody had left some wooden pallets that had seen better days. They were broken up in places so that some of the wood slats naturally broke into pieces shaped like sharp-pointed stakes, just big enough to fit well in an elf’s hand. I slid over and broke one off as quietly as possible.

The vamp had his back to me. He was haulin’ a pedestrian into the alley, his hand over her mouth. I had to calculate the exact distance with which to drive a stake through his back. Just enough to pierce his heart without goin’ all the way through and injurin’ the girl.

Fortune was with me. Or maybe ‘twas Lan’s spirit. I swore I heard him laughin’. When the leech dropped, the young lady turned to look at me with a face that was probably cute when no’ lookin’ speechless terrified.

“Go on,” I said. “Run fast. Get far, far away from here. Stay in crowds of people. Do no’ be out alone late at night and do no’ tell anyone what you saw.”

I knew it was ridiculous to say that. They always told what they saw. Luckily nobody believed ‘em. But just in case, I needed to get the cleanup crew there fast.

Pullin’ my phone out of my pocket, I dialed the number marked AAAAA in my contacts.

“Hawking,” said the voice on the other end. “Aren’t you on leave?”

“No’ right this minute,” I said. “You got the location?”

“On our way.”

“Hurry up about it. We’ve got a victim on the loose.”

I did no’ go back to Jefferson Unit until the day they were expectin’ me back. I did touristy things in clean clothes that had been promptly delivered to my hotel room in exchange for a second fifty-pound note.

Over the next few days, I climbed to the top of the Empire State Building. Went to the Metropolitan Museum. Went to see AC/DC at Madison Square Garden and bought one of every tee shirt. Went to Bloomin’dales and bought myself a handsome pea coat.

I also took care of family business. Talked to my mother because I had no’ answered her calls for weeks. I knew ‘twas bad to keep her waitin’, but I had no’ been in a place to talk. She’s flighty, gets her feathers in a ruffle easily, but ‘tis also easy to calm her down once she knows all is well.

I’d also ignored several calls from Kay, which really was uncalled for, but I just was no’ ready to rejoin the livin’, as they say.

Three days after the incident that I think of as Pallet Stake, I passed a stack of New York Tells on a street corner. The headline read “Vampire Stalker in Midtown”. There was a grainy color photo of a slatherin’ bald nosferatu with yellow eyes and fangs in the wrong place, on smaller incisors instead of cuspids. Cripes.

Underneath that was another sightin’ of Big Foot in Central Park. Well, who knows? Maybe there is something akin to a large hairy primate livin’ in the park.

When the day came to report to Jefferson Unit, I took the elevator up to one of Black Swan’s rooftop whisterports. Emotionally I felt battered around the edges, dented in places, sore, sad, and still a little lost. But I was alive and more determined than ever to stay that way.

I dialed Kay’s number and he picked up on the first ring.

“Son of a bitch.”

“I guess that means you know ‘tis me callin’.”

“Did you lose your phone? For three months?”

I sighed, knowin’ that I deserved a punch in the nose. I was also touched, hearin’ the concern in his voice.

“I was in a bad spot. Sorry for the radio silence.”

There was a pause while Kay seemed to be comin’ to terms with my apology.

“Where are you?”

“On a whister.” I looked out the window. “About ten minutes from…” I realized I’d almost said home, “…J.U.”

“You owe me a drink and an explanation. I’ll be waiting in the lounge.”

“Aye. Missed you, too.”

“Shut it.”

I chuckled and ended the call.

No’ wantin’ to put any more strain on my relationship with my teammate, I did no’ bother to drop my duffel off at my apartment. I went straight to the lounge, let it fall to the floor next to Kay’s chair and flopped into the cushy chair opposite him. It curled ‘round me like a lover.

“When did you get back? You seen Storm?” I asked before he could start chewin’ on my ass.

“Came in last night. Yeah. I’ve seen him. And we’re on call for dinner tonight. Turns out that thing was a girl.”

“No way.”

“Exactly what I thought. He says she’s healed and cleans up real nice.”

“So… what? How did she materialize out of thin air? What’s the story?”

“He says she was forced into some kind of experimental device to escape assassination. Believe it or not, she’s from another dimension.”

“I do no’ believe it.”

“It’s true anyway. The machine that brought her here tore her up pretty bad. Well, we knew that part. Right?”

Now here’s the thing you may no’ know. You may think that vampire hunters who work for an outfit that specializes in paranormal investigation are open minded about stuff they’ve no’ previously heard of. But nothin’ could be further from the truth. Sometimes I think we’re the biggest skeptics of all.

So, naturally, I scoffed. “Another dimension.”

Kay just nodded with his eyebrows raised. “I know.”

It suddenly dawned on me. “Do no’ tell me he’s been here the whole time, still starin’ at that door.”

“He has been here the whole time, but he’s been doing a lot more than staring at a door. He’s been acting as Black Swan’s emissary, visiting her every day, gaining her confidence like he was some kind of spy. I gather she was held as a prisoner right up until today. They had a hearing and gave her probationary freedom of the building and grounds.”

Kay leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Word is that Monq is going to give her the potential employee evaluation.”

I stared at Kay. “I challenge anybody, right here and now, to find a world stranger than this one.”

“I cannot accept that challenge, Sir Hawking. This one is about as strange as I can handle.”

“Very well. Dinner it is.”

“Good. And, if you ever ignore my outreach again, I will beat down your worthless Irish ass.”

“Fair enough, brother.”

Kay’s face softened. “Guess you decided to come back.”

“Honestly, ‘twas touch and go right up until this week. But here I am.”

“I’m around if you ever need to talk.”

I managed a small smile, nodded, hoisted my bag, and gave a salute on my way out.

CHAPTER 7

Ram

Kay called at 7:00.

“We need to be early for dinner. Storm wants us to make a good impression.”

My response was a snort and a huff. “Then he should no’ be invitin’ me.”

“You can manage good behavior for an hour. Meet me at 7:30. We’ll have time for a drink before dinner.”

“I’m no’ havin’ drinks before dinner.”

There was a long pause. “I’m sure there’s a story there. And I’d like to hear it. So meet me for before dinner coffee.”

“Whoever heard of before dinner coffee?”

“Just do it.”

“I’m lettin’ you get by with the attitude only because I feel guilty about lettin’ your calls go to voicemail. But that only goes so far.”

“Understood. See you at 7:30.”

I was no’ especially interested in Project Good Impression, but I took a shower and pulled out clean clothes. Some faded jeans. One of the AC/DC tees I bought at the concert. And my scuffed up square-toed boots.

I sat down in my usual chair, next to Kay. Truthfully I was grateful that there would be four people at the first meal back at J.U. Three would have been really hard. It made my eyes sting just thinkin’ about it.

He ordered a sissy white wine. I ordered water.

“What’s up with that?”

I knew what he was talkin’ about. Let’s say ‘twas somewhat unusual for me to ask for water. I shrugged. “Had my fill of the nectar of gods. At least for the time bein’.”

Kay nodded thoughtfully and was just about to reply, when we heard Sol’s voice on the P.A. system. We turned to see him standin’ with a mic in his hand.

He cleared his throat and everyone got quiet.

“As you know, our job involves unusual events. Sometimes they challenge our understanding of reality. One such event has taken place here at Jefferson Unit.

“For the past three months we’ve been hosting a visitor from another dimension. She’s spent her time here recovering from wounds received as a result of pioneering a scientific exploration that was heretofore thought impossible. I trust you will make her feel welcome, as she’ll be staying with us for a while. You’ll get that opportunity because she’ll be joining the Mess in about ten minutes. That is all.”

I turned to Kay and deadpanned, “Unicorns have been spotted in the Courtpark. Give them carrots, but do no’ ride. That is all.”

Kay laughed. “Well, everybody can’t be as entertaining as you, Ram.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“Not exactly.”

I looked around the room, drummin’ my fingers on the white tablecloth. I’d been asked to come to dinner early, which I had. Now I was ready for the next thing, which I hoped was dinner.

“I’m hungry. You hungry?”

“I could eat.”

“Well…”

“No. We’re waiting for Storm and his big surprise.”

I went back to lookin’ about. ‘Twas then I felt the air leave my lungs and my heart started beatin’ like I was in full-on chase.

Everybody stopped and stared when Storm entered the room with his hand on the small of her back. I watched her look around quickly and then smile at Krisp. She followed him, movin’ with a graceful roll of her hips that made my mouth water. My eyes locked on the way the silk skirt moved when she walked, her head up like royalty.

She was tall with rockin’ hair, worn down and fallin’ in curls over her breasts. I usually went for brunettes, but it only took a second for me to realize that I prefer a mix of red, brown, blonde, and was that pink? If I had no’ already been sittin’, she would have knocked me on my ass. I knew I had to get ahold of myself and get my breathing under control before she reached the table or she was goin’ to think I was a creeper.

Kay stood up when they reached the table. It was a good thing I had the prompt because I seemed to have forgotten who I was and what I was doin’.

I saw her eyes wander over Kay and then me, quick enough to make an assessment without appearin’ rude.

Storm said, “This is Elora Laiken.” He said it like she belonged to him, which made my blood heat up. Inexplicably. Even I knew that was an odd reaction. He nodded at us. “These are my teammates, Chaos Caelian and Rammel Hawking, a.k.a. Kay and Ram.”

Kay said, “Wow. You’ve changed a lot since the last time I saw you.”

She raised her chin, givin’ every impression that she thought herself the same height, and smiled at him. “Have we met then?” She extended her hand in a gracious and ladylike way. She had the sort of manners my mum would approve of.

Next she turned her attention to me, again holdin’ out her hand. I took it, feelin’ electric tingles run up my arm and continue to invade my entire body.

When I nodded slightly and said, “Hello,” she jerked her hand away like she’d been burned. The friendly look in her eyes was replaced with a glare.

Now I’m no’ one to get embarrassed easily, but I could feel a rush of blood to my face. Since when does sayin’ hello get that sort of reaction?

I settled on a simple and direct inquiry. “What’s wrong?”

If I had to choose a word to describe her posture and demeanor, I’d say she looked haughty. And pissed!

“Your voice is what’s wrong, Mr. Hawking. It sounds very much like one I’ve heard before saying, ‘Kill it. Kill it now.’”

Ah. The old chickens comin’ home to roost. She no’ only remembered what was said, but had put my voice to it as well. Great Paddy, I thought. I’m screwed.

I looked down at my feet tryin’ to decide on a way forward. When I glanced up, I could see that everybody in the Mess was starin’ like it was a show. I let the room know exactly how I felt about that.

“Hey!” I shouted. “Find something else to do, for Paddy’s sake!” Turnin’ back to my teammates, I lowered my voice and added, “Wankers,” so only they would hear.

It was gratifyin’ to see the spectators choose the prudent course of action and return to mindin’ their own fuckin’ business. Sometimes it pays to have a reputation for bein’ unpredictable.

I’m no’ much of a game player. I take life straight on. Saves everybody a whole lot of time and energy if you keep your cards above the table and act like you’re no’ afraid to play ‘em.

I leaned into her, smilin’ on the inside because I could see that it disarmed her and put her a little off balance. I looked straight into turquoise eyes that I could get lost in and lowered my voice to a level of intimacy.

“Naturally I regret that, my girl. Please accept my apology.”

I said it with sincerity and hoped she heard that because, in fact, I was sorry about what I’d said. No’ nearly as sorry as I would have been if I’d been taken up on my advice to kill her. I guess I have Storm to thank for the fact that termination was never really considered.

She did no’ answer at first, just stared at me like she’d never seen an act of contrition. The fact is, I felt I’d never wanted anything in my life as much as I wanted her forgiveness. I would have begged for it if it came to that, in front of everyone.

I leaned in even closer and whispered, “Do no’ be mad.”

I could tell the moment she decided to let the grudge go. She relaxed in a way that made me want to drag her close and make her body mold to mine. I could no’ help but smile. In fact I had to resist the urge to grin. But something told me it would be a mistake to let her see how much power she had over me. Already. Within a few minutes. That could only mean one thing. My mate had found me. And she’d crossed worlds to do it, at great expense to her beautiful self.

The other revelation, fast on the heels of the first, was that she was no’ elf, but human. ‘Tis rare, but it does happen. I never imagined that it would happen to me, but I’m no’ questionin’ the Fates.

I leaned in again. Wantin’ to impress her with the fact that I’m a bona fide knight of The Order of the Black Swan, I said, “If we’re goin’ formal, ‘tis Sir Hawking when we’re on these premises, but I’d like it if you’d call me Ram.”

She took a little step back from me which only served to excite my inner predator. I could feel Storm and Kay watchin’ the exchange and wished to Paddy they were doin’ something else, preferably somewhere far, far away.

She said, “Okay.”

‘Twas the sweetest acquiescence I could hope for. I had the urge to repeat it and savor the sound in my mouth. But I did no’. I forced myself to look away and sit down. As nonchalant as if she were any other female.

“Let’s eat,” I said.

Storm pulled out her chair, which made me grind my teeth. I should be the one doin’ that.

I sat in my usual spot, Kay on my left, the wall on my right. Elora Laiken was in the chair across from me that used to be occupied by Lan. Somehow havin’ her there kept me from crumblin’ into a mess.

I’d spent three months lookin’ for a distraction and, by Paddy, here she was. The grand lottery of all distractions in one heavenly body.

I brought my attention back to the conversation when I heard Kay say,

“So, welcome to Jefferson Unit.”

She gave him a friendly enough smile and said, “Thank you. Until today I haven’t really seen anything except the infirmary.” She looked down at the table, then quietly added, “And the Chamber room.”

An image of what she’d looked like when she was an indiscernible thing flashed into my mind and I wanted nothin’ more than to kick my own ass for no’ recognizin’ that the awful feelin’s were nature’s hard-wired empathy for the pain of a mate. ‘Twas when I first realized nothin’ would ever be the same again.

It also made me wonder how much of the pain and feelin’s of loss I’d suffered the past three months were from grief over Lan’s death and how much of ‘twas about walkin’ out on my mate when she was in unimaginable distress. Great Paddy. ‘Twas in that moment I knew I’d no’ ever deserve her if I did my utmost for a thousand years hence.

After the four of us gave Krisp our orders, Kay asked her, “So far what’s the biggest difference between your world and ours?”

Without a moment’s hesitation, she said, “Vampire. That’s plural.” She looked around the table. “The plural of vampire is vampire, right?”

So she’d been readin’ the manual.

Kay asked, “How do you know?”

“Black Swan Field Training Manual, Section One, Chapter One, Number One,” she said as matter of fact as if she had a photographic memory.

Kay shook his head. “I mean, how do you know there aren’t vampire in your dimension? Only a tiny fraction of our population knows that our world is crawling with them.”

“Crawling?” she asked.

“Okay. Maybe crawling is a bit much. I guess it just seems that way to us sometimes.”

Aye. ‘Crawling’ was an exaggeration, but it did seem that way to us sometimes. Honestly, I could no’ help but marvel at how the general population could be so clueless about what was goin’ on right ‘round them. It was almost like they purposefully fitted themselves with blinders.

As you can imagine, I had no’ been able to take my eyes away from Elora Laiken since she arrived in the Mess. I mean, there’s only one first time for meetin’ your mate. Right?

All of a sudden she was lookin’ straight at me, askin’ why I was starin’? My first thought was to say, “How could I no’?” But before I answered, Kay spoke up.

“Don’t let him bother you. Elves are not known for manners.”

Just what I needed. My own teammate, who was happily engaged to be married, was tryin’ to sabotage my only chance to make a memorable first impression. I was hopin’ to get the message across that he was out of line. So I said, “Oh. And berserkers are the essence of Miss Emily Post, I suppose?”

I was glarin’ at Kay when I heard her say, “What do you mean, elves?”

Kay smirked at me before lookin’ at her and sayin’, “You know. Elves. Pointy ears? Big feet?”

At that point I could see my back-off message was no’ getting’ through to the big lummox and I was feelin’ the temperature in my blood risin’ fast. Great Paddy! What was the bloody man thinkin’? I mean, my feet are no’ especially big for an elf and I might add that, unlike humans, I do no’ get knocked down easily. O’ course, since I also have a dick to match, ‘tis something else I have on humans.

While I was contemplatin’ punchin’ Kay’s block so he’d have to walk sideways for a while, I heard her say something that I never could have anticipated or prepared for in a hundred years. I know I was already heated up by Kay’s shenanigans, but when she said, “You mean like in fairy tales?”, it pushed my temper right over the edge.

I did no’ know exactly what she was tryin’ to say, but it sounded like she was thinkin’ I was a fairy. Great Paddy’s balls in a bag! My mate, who gave no indication of recognizin’ me as her mate, was thinkin’ I was a fairy? ‘Twas hard enough that she did no’ fall into my arms, as any elf would have done. No. The Fates seemed to have chosen me to play with. My mate was no’ only human, but from another world. And I could tell that she did no’ see me as anything special. The best I could hope for was to set that straight.

Sometimes my body gets ahead of my brain, as happened in that case. I was so anxious to correct the misimpression that I stood up too quickly.

“I am no’ a fairy!” I heard the indignation in my voice and immediately regretted soundin’ like I was scoldin’ her. If she did no’ think me an asshole for that, the fact that I’d stood too quickly and knocked over my chair in the process... well, I did no’ want her to think of me as a hothead even if she had just called me a fuckin’ fairy. At least no’ at our first meetin’.

I looked around and noticed every bugger in the Mess had gone quiet again, starin’ at me like ‘twas a show. I pushed down the impulse to yell at them again, picked up my chair and took a seat. While I was contemplatin’ that my mate had taken me for the worst creature in the world, I heard Storm tryin’ to make a half-arsed explanation.

“Elves and fae have been at war for over a thousand years. They hate each other.” He glanced at me, then added, “A lot.”

She looked confused, either like she did no’ understand or did no’ believe. Without knowin’ her better, it was impossible to tell. She studied me as if she was tryin’ to come to a conclusion. When she finally spoke, she asked Kay to change places with her.

She came ‘round the table and seated herself next to me, which felt like all the wrongs of the world had just been righted, then stared at me close up. Her hand came toward the side of my face, but she stopped, slid her eyes to look into mine and asked, “May I?”

I swallowed hard, havin’ no idea what she was askin’, but also knowin’ that the answer was aye to whatever ‘twas.

I did my best to control the shiver that gripped my body when I felt her touch my hair. She lifted it away and when her finger touched the tip of my left ear, there was no amount of will that could suppress my body’s reaction. Settin’ my conspicuous shudder aside, what happened next was a moment frozen in time in my mind.

Great Paddy. She lit up the room with a grin that made me think she’d finally recognized me as the one. I was ready to haul her into my lap when she said, “In your world, do you not have a collection of stories called fairy tales?”

I was no’ sure how to react or why she’d given me such a heart-stoppin’ smile, but I knew she still did no’ know. I shook my head, feelin’ both disappointed and more than annoyed that the word ‘fairy’ had been introduced to dinner conversation for a second time in one evenin’.

For once I chose my words carefully. “Sounds most disturbin’.”

She smiled and said, “Well, there are some that are rather unpleasant, but most are magical and charming. These stories feature mythical creatures that do not exist in my world. Creatures like fairies, elves, dragons and ogres.” She continued to stare at me for another minute, then, lookin’ around the table, she said, “Are there also dragons and ogres here?”

I looked at Storm and Kay. They looked at me. All three of us were shakin’ our heads. Kay appeared to be tryin’ no’ to laugh. Storm appeared to be exercisin’ patience. I was just shakin’ my head and wonderin’ what the Paddy I’d got into with this woman. I mean, I know what a dragon is. ‘Tis a mythological fire-breathing, flyin’ reptile. So I made the only logical reply open to me.

“What’s an ogre?”

She thought about it for a few seconds and, when she turned those turquoise eyes on me, I was givin’ myself the high fives that I had been the one to ask the question and make her look my way. My eyes drifted down to the light freckles sprinkled across the bridge of her nose. They were the kind that’d be hard to see if you were no’ close up, where I wanted to be for the next several eternities in a row. Simply enchantin’.

My eyes were drawn downward when she opened her mouth to speak. “It’s a big ugly brute.”

“Well,” I said, “then we may have been wrong. Sounds very much like a description of Sol.”

Storm nodded, Kay laughed, and Elora just seemed to be waitin’ to see what would happen next.

Kay waxed on. For the one of us who was usually the quietest, his tongue seemed to be doin’ jigs and cartwheels for my mate. “It does raise an interesting question though. If there are no elves in your world, then how do you know about elves?”

Our server interrupted the query by arrivin’ at that moment. I noticed that she had no’ asked to return to her chair across the table and took it as a sign of growin’ acceptance, if no’ affection. I might no’ be able to touch her, but I was close enough to smell the scent of, well, shampoo or soap or perfume or maybe just her. I did no’ care whether or no’ ‘twas identified. I just wanted to keep breathing her in.

She was like a drug to me. I wanted more and more and could no’ imagine doin’ without.

“Are these nuts on top of my chicken?” she asked.

“Uh, yeah,” Storm answered, lookin’ amused. “Pieces. I think it’s pecan. Looks good. Give me a bite and I’ll tell you for sure.”

Without a word she went about complyin’ with his request, extendin’ a fork laden with pecan-crusted chicken across the table. He took it in his mouth and hummed approval.

“Oh, yeah. Pecan pieces. Do you like it?”

She tasted it and smiled. “I do. So what do you have there?”

“Seared salmon with an Alfredo pasta. Want a bite?”

She nodded, lookin’ eager as a child at her first fair. “That is good. Can I have that tomorrow night?”

Storm chuckled. “Of course. What have they been feeding you in the infirmary?”

She shrugged. “Mostly stuff without color that doesn’t require much chewing.”

Storm looked serious. “Sounds like they didn’t make a distinction for you, but just gave you the regular hospital diet. Sorry. I should have been paying more attention.”

“I didn’t complain.”

“I know,” he said, looking at her like she was a miracle.

And I was feelin’ a heady resentment comin’ on all the while a little voice kept chidin’ that ‘twas my own fault for walkin’ away from her to go drinkin’ and... Great Paddy. I’m a worthless bastard.

She went ‘round the table, took bites of my lollipopped lamb and Kay’s twenty-one-days marinated steak. Rare, of course.

When that game was done to her satisfaction, she brought the conversation back to Kay’s question about elves. They talked at length about elves as if they were debatin’ angels dancin’ on pinheads.

Ridiculous.

When she finally changed the subject, ‘twas without segue. “What’s a berserker?” After a concise and clinical explanation a la Storm, she said, “So you’re saying berserkers go out of control?”

I laughed, intendin’ it to sound derisive because I realized it was my chance to repay Kay for the ‘big feet’ comment. “Out of control? Wacked up insane motherfuckers is what they are.”

She turned and stared at me. I shoved a bite of lamb into my mouth, hopin’ it made me look unconcerned about the fact that my teammates were also starin’.

“What?” I challenged them both, sittin’ together across the table, but she distracted us all before they answered.

“Where I am from, your accent would be typical in a place called Ireland. Is there such a place here?”

‘Twas oddly comfortin’ to know that Ireland existed even in Elora’s dimension of origin. “Aye. ‘Tis my home. We’ve had a truce with the fairies for two hundred years. We do no’ go to Scotia uninvited and they do no’ cross the borders of Ireland or Wales. Except on preapproved business.” I could no’ stop myself from askin’, “Do you like my accent?”

She smiled shyly as her eyes slid sideways toward me and said, “Sure.” Then she gave a most beguilin’ little shake of her head. “Musical.”

“I’d like to hear these fairy tales,” I said, “but would like them all the more should they be called elf tales.”

She laughed out loud and I reveled in hearin’ the sound for the first time.

Two more times during dinner she turned to me with a funny look on her face, and pushed my hair back to look at my ear, like she thought it might have magically changed since the last time she saw it. No’ that I minded. I would have leapt at any excuse to have her focus her attention on me. The fact that she touched me in the process was a boon. Both times gave me shivers that probably reached my toes, but the sensation concentrated at my groin, so I can no’ say for sure.

Several knights stopped by the table. While Storm made introductions, I glared at each and every one, but they were too interested in the new arrival to notice my very sincere, if silent, warnin’.

The woman was a charmer for sure. She could no’ be faulted for manners and I could no’ help thinkin’ that even my mother would approve of Elora Laiken. Except that she was human, o’ course. She shook hands, smiled, and repeated every one of their names like she intended to remember.

When dessert came, the reception line scattered. At least they had sense enough to know it would be rude to interrupt sweets. And ‘twas one of my favorites.

I dug in, but then saw that she was simply starin’ at the plate.

“Do you no’ like it?”

She dropped her chin and looked at me, quietly sayin’, “What is it?”

“Black Forest Cake with raspberry sauce.”

Her brows came together in a charmin’ display of confusion. “I know what raspberries are,” she said.

“Aye. One of nature’s best expressions of juicy goodness. The stuff under the sauce is chocolate cake.” She looked dubious. “Chocolate is strange to you?” She nodded.

I leaned toward her and matched her quiet tone. “Just take a bite. Chances are good that you’ll like it.”

The slight adjustment of the set of her mouth told me she was no’ goin’ to back down from a challenge, even one that was as slight and silly as darin’ her to eat cake. The other two chimed in, sayin’, “Yeah. You’ve gotta give it a shot.”

She picked up her fork and glanced around the table at the three of us all watchin’ and took a weensy little bite. I shall never forget what happened next if I live to be a thousand. She closed her lips around that cake and moaned. MOANED, I tell you. ‘Twas like nothin’ I’d ever heard. My cock jumped to attention like she’d taken it out of my pants and begun strokin’. That was alarmin’ on so many levels. I mean I’m healthy to be sure, but I’m a decade past bein’ randy as a lad.

I had forgotten all about eatin’ my own cake as, apparently, had Storm. I say ‘apparently’ because he had an untouched piece to offer when she’d finished scarfin’ down her own like a rugby player.

She looked down at the offerin’ and flushed just a bit before askin’, “Are you sure?” But she attacked the cake like she had no’ eaten in weeks before he reconfirmed his intention to give up the treat.

I was captivated by the sight of her inhalin’ Storm’s cake, moanin’ and makin’ excruciatin’ly sexy yummy sounds the whole time. She looked at the plate like she’d love to pick it up and lick it, just before her head turned toward me. I could only hope that someday she would look at me with the sort of desire she was showin’ my dessert.

“I’d be honored to have you try mine as well,” I said as I picked up the little plate.

She opened her beautiful mouth and was clearly about to say aye, at least that was my impression, when she realized my teammates were havin’ a laugh at her expense. She blushed in embarrassment which brought out my protective instincts and made me want to hang both the buggers by their balls.

“Do no’ mind them,” I said. “After what you’ve been through, you should have as much chocolate as you want, whenever you want it.” I wanted to go on adding, “And anything else your heart desires. Please let that include me.” But I knew that would sound wacked to a human. So I let the gift of cake be a pale proxy for a declaration of intent.

“No, thank you.” She gave me a smile that was somewhat more reserved and tense. “I’ve had enough.”

“No such thing as enough,” I said. “Less is no’ more. More is more.” That got me a bigger smile.

We parted ways at the Hub. The three of us were goin’ for our usual after dinner drink, which was a ritualized indulgence on nights off. I offered to see her to her apartment, but she said, “No. This will be my first time on my own and I’m looking forward to being unescorted. Thank you, though.”

I nodded and watched her walk away, all the while thinkin’ that I had suggested killin’ my own mate the night she’d arrived broken, torn, and covered with so much blood it was a miracle she’d survived it.

I realized I was grindin’ my teeth recallin’ what Storm had said about spendin’ time with her every day, watchin’ her recovery, gettin’ to know her. Paddy. I’m a livin’, breathing idiot. I’d been tryin’ to play my blues away while Storm was situatin’ himself as her… well, I was no’ sure what, but I could say for sure that I did no’ like the easy familiarity with which he regarded her. And her him. Did no’ like it in the least.

I walked after my teammates. Kay turned around when he saw that I was laggin’.

“You coming?” he asked with a hint of classic Kay everything-amuses-me.

I was no’ really grousin’ about his laid-back style. No’ since I’d seen the other side of that coin.

I’d been lost in my effort to place that beguilin’ scent of hers. What was it? Oh aye. Wild jasmine in full bloom. So intoxicatin’ it could bring a grown man to a standstill at fifteen feet. My thoughts immediately jumped to a listin’ of her physical virtues, the long legs, curves, and, oh, that hair. I’d be dreamin’ about buryin’ myself in that hair.

Could no’ help but smile at that image.

Kay interrupted my private thoughts for the second time in two minutes. “What’s so funny?”

I suppressed the urge to tell the fellow ‘twas none of his business and attempted to appease him by sayin’, “Just thinkin’ about how much cake she ate. Never seen a body enjoy food so much.”

“Um hum.”

There was a distinct element of distrust in his tone, but I did no’ care. ‘Twas a right special occasion even if I could no’ make a public celebration of it. No’ yet anyway.

CHAPTER 8

Ram

I was on my way down to the meetin’ in the Sovereign’s office. After a sleepless night, thinkin’ about the beautiful human, I was hopin’ to grab a coffee and wake up a bit first. To my surprise and great pleasure, I found the object of my every desire emergin’ from the apartment next door. I had no idea they’d put her next to me.

“Good day.” I gave her a smile that’d never failed me with the lasses then added, “Ms. Laiken.”

“Call me Elora.” She smiled in return and it seemed genuine enough. I was thinkin’ ‘twas a good enough start, but when she pulled the door closed, I saw her glance at the faded rectangle where Lan’s name plate had been and she winced. Her colorin’ came up, turnin’ her face pink, and I could see she was uncomfortable. “I know this was your, uh, friend’s quarters. I hope you don’t mind. It’s just temporary.”

By that time I was beside her. “’Tis fine, Elora. Tis no’ like he’s usin’ it.” I knew that was the wrong thing to say as soon as her eyes went wide and I realized how callous it must have sounded. So I tried to clarify with a wordier explanation. “Lan was no’ the sort who would want a memorial made of his quarters. He loved women and would relish knowin’ you’re the one sleepin’ in his bed. Temporary or no’.”

She cocked her head to one side as her eyes narrowed with mock suspicion. “So. You’re a silver-tongued elf.”

No’ lookin’ at her sweet mouth after hearin’ a mention of tongue would have been utterly impossible. Perhaps Kay might have had the willpower for such a feat, but no’ I. With effort I drew my eyes back up to hers.

“No.” I smiled seductively. At least I hoped so. “My tongue is sweet. Regular and pink. Will you come have a taste then and see if I’m true?”

I leaned in to kiss her, but she took a step back lookin’ like she was certain I was daft.

“Anyway,” she said, “it was a generous and gracious thing for you to say. About me occupying Lan’s apartment, I mean.”

“Well,” I rocked back on my heels and laughed softly, “that’s another first. I assure you I’ve never been accused of bein’ generous and gracious before.”

She studied me for a second before sayin’, “Perhaps people don’t know the real you.” Yeah. Or perhaps they did. But if she wanted to think better of me, I was no’ goin’ to be the instrument of obstruction. “What’s the other first?”

“Beautiful stranger from another world.”

“Oh.”

I had no’ intended my compliment to dampen the mood. I was in the process of tryin’ to learn to read her and, if I was guessin’ right, references to the home she’d involuntarily left behind were on the taboo list. ‘Twas time for a shift of topic.

“So, where are you off to?” I asked. We started toward the elevator, but I was gratified to see that she was in no bigger hurry than I was.

“The Hub. Coffee bar. Only I’m not getting coffee.”

“Let me guess.”

She did a little thing with her hand that I took to mean something like, “Go ahead and try.”

“Judgin’ by the way you devoured the Black Forest cake last night which, by the way, was quite something to see and hear, I’m thinkin’ you’ll be after more chocolate.”

She grinned in a way that let me know I was right. “Hot chocolate. It comes in liquid form. I discovered it at breakfast this morning and am thinking about forming a Cult of Chocolate.”

“It also comes in cold liquid form as chocolate milk. Humans are addicted before they have teeth.”

“Good to know.” She said it seriously as if she meant that she was actually glad for the information.

“So you were already out for breakfast earlier?”

“Yes. Storm took me on a tour.”

I felt every muscle in my body tense so that the best I could manage was a stupid, “Oh?”

She’d had breakfast with stick-up-the-butt and learned all about hot chocolate from him.

I was schemin’ up ways to get him out of the picture, when she asked, “Where are you, um, headed?”

“Something no’ nearly so fun as chocolate.” The elevator doors opened and my mood turned sour in spite of Elora’s presence. “A discussion about replacin’ Lan with a new fourth team member.”

“Oh. Storm said something about a meeting. Sounds dreadful. For all of you.”

“That about sums it up.” I did no’ want to leave our chance encounter like that, so I coughed up a bit of man-on-the-street philosophy. “Life goes on, right?”

I managed to say that out loud, but it felt like it landed at my feet with a leaden thud.

She nodded, but looked sympathetic. Lovin’ the fact that she seemed to have a compassionate nature, I said, “I’m goin’ down another floor. You know your way? How to get there and back?”

“Oh yes, I’ve known how to get to the Hub ever since the day of my hearing.” She stepped out and turned to give me a little smile and a chest-high wave with her right hand that was adorable as kittens.

I nodded goodbye but held the elevator for a few more seconds for the pure pleasure of watchin’ her walk away. I knew I’d never get enough of that so long as I lived. My thoughts were consumed with images of Elora Laiken comin’ and goin’, when I remembered that she’d said something about a ‘hearing’. As soon as the dadblasted meetin’ was over, I was goin’ to the library for a copy.

CHAPTER 9

Ram

When I got off the elevator on sublevel two and started toward Sol’s office, my thoughts turned to the reason why I was there and my feet immediately started feelin’ heavy. I pushed on, slowly, wishin’ I’d got up early enough to have coffee first. Wishin’ I was any place in the world except a few steps away from a discussion about replacin’ my partner. Everything about that felt wrong. As if it was no’ hard enough buryin’ Lan, now we were tryin’ to erase his memory altogether by puttin’ some fucker in his place.

My teammates were already there, lookin’ grim, which was appropriate. Lan was more than a friend to the two of them as well.

I grabbed a coffee in the outer office, then took a seat on the couch next to the wall. I was glad that seat was still available because I wanted to be in the furthest possible place away from the proceedin’. That was an empty desire because Sol’s office was no’ that big. Still, I could detach a little.

Sol watched with an unspoken reprimand on his face as I sat down. Paddy. I was only three minutes late. Kay sat at the other end of the couch nearest the exit. Storm closed the office door and stood with his back against the wall facin’ the desk that represented the seat of power at Jefferson Unit.

After clearin’ his throat, Sol said, “You know the purpose of this meeting.” I slouched down into the couch to register my disdain for the purpose of the meetin’. The sovereign’s eyes tracked the movement and he looked at me pointedly. “I’m not unsympathetic to your feelings. Like I told you before, I’ve been in your shoes. But the fact remains that a patrol team is four members, not three. There are centuries-old reasons for that. Good ones. So let’s strap on our character and get on with it.”

I snorted and looked out the window. People often overlook the merits of a good snort. Nothin’ else matches its derisive qualities. I first began to pursue the snort as an art form in response to outrageous modes of conformity expressed by my father and brother.

I wondered if Sol’s function as sovereign made me prickly because it was far too close to the authority expressed by kings and king wannabes.

O’ course he was right. About all of it. Plus, he had a job to do and it was unfair of me to make him the scapegoat for my feelin’s, but puttin’ things in a more mature perspective did no’ make my heart any more interested in discussin’ another partner.

Like the professional he was, Sol continued, refusin’ to take the bait of my rebellious antics, which was a shame because I’d have much rather talked about my lack of character than replacin’ Lan.

“I’ve got a short list, but of course the three of you have final say about your fourth.”

After a few beats Storm crossed his arms and jerked his chin toward the paper sitting on Sol’s desk. “Who are you thinking?”

“First is Ghost, naturally.”

An involuntary chuff was forced from my lungs. I mean, I’m fairly easy goin’, but I did no’ like that guy. ‘Twas no’ just his looks either, although ‘twas hard to look at his albino pink rimmed eyes. There was something about him that went beyond creep and my instincts told me I’d never trust him to have my back. My initial reaction was to say I’d quit The Order before I partnered with him.

Sol gave me a look and then read the other three. “Finnemore. Sanction. Blytheson.”

I looked out the window, which was no’ a real window since we were in sublevel two. It was actually a monitor showing a camera view of the courtpark two floors above us. Still, it was more interestin’ than anything goin’ on in the room where I sat.

The only sound in the room was a big sigh from Kay. Storm was either lookin’ at his feet or the carpet. I glanced at Sol with a look of malice I did no’ feel towards him, just the situation. I knew it was immature as hel, but if Lan was replaced, I’d have to face the fact once and for all that he was gone and no’ comin’ back.

I had turned back to studyin’ the camera view of the courtpark, when I heard Storm say, “Let us have a day to mull it over. Sleep on it maybe.”

Sol answered without hesitation. “Sure. Same time tomorrow.”

I was out the door and headed toward the elevator when I heard Storm call from behind. “Where you going, Ram? We’ve got to talk about this.”

I kept goin’, pushed the button, but waited for Storm and Kay. When they caught up, I said, “I’m thinkin’ we can talk just as easily with six tablespoonfuls of fine Irish Whiskey poured over ice.”

Nothin’ more was said until after we were sittin’ in the plump corner chairs next to the gas fire. The day was overcast, which seemed fittin’ somehow. The lounge was deserted except for us. And the bartender.

“What’ll it be, gentlemen?” The barkeep’s eyebrows were raised, probably because it was early in the day for drinkin’ and he had no’ expected to be workin’. But spirits were invented to give balance to a sober occasion like that one.

We sat in silence, each with his own thoughts, until after drinks were served. Kay thanked the bartender and said, “Keep ‘em coming.”

After a couple of minutes, Storm said, “Okay. Let’s come up with ground rules. I say that, if all three of us say no to somebody on the list, we draw a line through his name.” Kay nodded. I let Storm pretend to be ‘leader’ more often than no’ because I was too lazy to care about callin’ the shots. I figured if he wanted responsibility, let him have it. “Finnemore. Yes or no.”

“Finnemore is a wanker,” I said. Actually Finnemore was a likable guy and a worthy knight. I had nothin’ against him except that he was no’ Lan.

Storm gave me a look callin’ me out on the petulance, but I did no’ own it as I should have. I gave him a defiant stare-down like an adolescent. He responded by treatin’ me like I was one.

“Yes. Or. No.”

I raised my eyebrows in challenge and mocked the fake patience. I might have been actin’ like a fool, but I was still a knight. “That. Would. Be. A. No.”

Kay glanced at me and nodded, “I agree. It’s a no. But, look, Sol’s right. This is no fun for any of us. Also, it’s time somebody said it out loud. Lan’s death was nobody’s fault. Not his. Not ours. We all wish there was somebody to blame so that we could....” He paused and sighed. “Well, so we could blame them. But there isn’t. Let’s put a lid on the tempers and move on.”

Storm looked at Kay for a moment and then said, “Unanimous. Finnemore is out. That leaves three.”

After also eliminating Sanction and Blytheson, that left Ghost, who also was considered, theoretically, to be next in line for the job.

Storm read right off the sheet. “Gauthier Nibelung, a.k.a. Ghost. Age thirty. Field active eight years.” Storm set the paper down, rather than read the rest of the resume. “He’s in line. He’ll be expecting to be called up. And he probably deserves it.” Storm ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “What do you think?”

“I think this fuckin’ stinks,” I said.

“Sol agreed to give us the night to think about it. Why don’t you meet me at my place in the morning? I’ll have coffee. Get egg sandwiches or something sent up. We’ll have another chance to talk it over before we give Sol our decision.”

Kay nodded. “Okay.”

I looked ‘round the room and said, “I’m goin’ for a workout.”

“That’s a good idea,” Storm said. “Clear your head. And, Ram…” I looked up at him. “We don’t like this either. If they’d let us patrol as three, Kay and I would agree to it, even knowing it’s risky.”

Why’d he have to go and say that?

I felt my eyes fill up. I jerked my head away. I mean, those two guys were my teammates, but that did no’ mean I wanted them to see me cry. I was strugglin’ to keep tears from fallin’ when I felt them spill down my cheeks. I swiped the sleeve of my shirt over my eyes, hatin’ my body for betrayin’ me so. “Gotta get out of here.” I practically ran for the elevator, keepin’ my head down and hopin’ my face had no’ gone girlie pink. Great Paddy. I was losin’ it.

Jefferson Unit prided itself on its fitness center and rightfully so. It was huge, took up the lion’s share of sublevel three.

I grabbed three guys out of the weight room to have a spar with me. The distraction of hittin’ a willin’ body was just what I needed to take the edge off.

On the way down to the spar room with the fancy suspended floor, Paltrorn said, “So you had dinner with the new arrival last night.”

“New arrival?”

“Don’t play dumber than you are, Hawking. I’m talking about the gorgeous babe.”

“Oh, aye. I did have dinner with her.” I stopped in front of the closed door and faced him. “If the next words out of your mouth are disrespectful in any way, this spar is goin’ to leave you needin’ sheet time.”

I punctuated that with a warnin’ look as I grabbed the door handle and pulled it open with a swoosh. Message delivered and received. And who should be sittin’ in the middle of a mat doin’ stretches, wearin’ clothing fit so snug that no curve or attribute was left to imagination? ‘Twas the devil herself. My mate.

Baglio whistled under his breath and got the same look I’d just given Paltrorn.

I walked straight to the mat, took the eighteen-inch hop without effort and crawled through the braided wire.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hey,” she replied in kind. Glancin’ at the men behind me, she said, “I was just going.”

“No need. We were just goin’ to spar a little. Stay and watch.”

“Um. Alright. Maybe for a minute.”

The four of us laced on gloves, paired up, and engaged each other Swan-style martial arts. Elora was a distraction, no doubt about it. I could no’ help but glance her way to see if she was appropriately impressed. After a few minutes, she came to the ropes and seemed to be tryin’ to get my attention. My sparrin’ partner looked at me like, “What the hel?” So I put him down with a punch, and turned to her with a smile.

“What can I do for you, darlin’?”

“Might I try this?”

I could no’ have been more confused if she’d asked to take her tights down and pee in the middle of the mat. Honestly, my thoughts were such a scramble, I could no’ immediately think of a response.

O’ course I did no’ want to say no to her. Ever. So I decided the only thing to do was to let her take a turn and control the situation so she did no’ get hurt. I could no’ help but grin. It was sort of cute that she wanted to try fightin’. Go figure.

“Sure,” I said, “if you promise to go easy on me. I’m a workin’ lad.” I nodded toward Baglio. “Give her your gloves, will you, mate?”

Baglio looked at me like I was standin’ at the gate of the looney bin askin’ for a half day leave, but he shook his head and began pullin’ on the laces with his teeth.

While he helped her get into the gloves, she said, “What are the rules?”

“The rules?” I inquired stupidly.

With a little smile, she said, “No rules. Okay. What’s the goal of the exercise?”

“The goal?” Great Paddy. I was gettin’ stupider by the second. “Um, to keep us in fightin’ shape?”

Since women were never on the exercise level at the same time as knights, that alone was an oddity. But if you add to that a woman sparrin’ with a knight, you can imagine the significance of the event.

“Okay. The rules. Easy. Simple. No bitin’. Vampire hunters have a thing about teeth. And keep it above the belt.” I grinned in spite of the seriousness of my declaration. “I need the boys in workin’ order.”

“The boys?”

I walked close and leaned into her so that only she would hear. To her credit, she did no’ back away. “Cock and balls.”

She jerked her face up to me and reddened slightly. Paddy, that spark in her eyes made her so beautiful, it was everything I could do to keep from draggin’ her into me and kissin’ her into belief. I was gettin’ the feelin’ that there was a lot more about this girl to be discovered.

When the gloves were secure, she first dropped her hands to her sides. My first hint that I was out of my depth was when I saw the fire light behind her eyes. That smile told me that maybe I’d been played.

She raised her hands and took on the demeanor of a seasoned fighter just before she began to circle me. Instinctively, I moved when she did, mirrorin’ every step. If I stopped, she angled her body away defensively. ‘Twas clear she’d had some trainin’. Keepin’ her from gettin’ hurt could prove harder than I thought.

The look of concentration on her face would have been alarmin’ if she’d no’ been female.

I heard a blast of cursin’ behind me comin’ from someone doin’ a damn good imitation of Storm. It could no’ be Storm because he held swearin’ in about the same esteem as the sovereign, meanin’ he did no’ approve. There were also a few real words thrown into the tirade like reckless, stupid, immature, and punk.

Glancin’ over I saw that it was indeed Storm standin’ off to the side with Kay and, apparently, they’d brought a crowd with them. Seemed like a good time to wind things down.

I thought I’d reach out and give her a little tap on the outer left bicep. No’ enough to bruise, just enough to be a good excuse to quit. I faked goin’ left then stepped in for a baby jab.

It never landed.

Actually I was no’ sure what did happen until I watched the video days later, when I could breathe again. All I knew was that one second I was in the process of deliverin’ a playful jab. The next I was in the air fallin’ backward on the way to bein’ slammed into the mat.

The air was forcibly evacuated from my body and was refusin’ to return. I thought I was goin’ to die, but entertained the surreal thought that at least I’d die lookin’ at her. She was bendin’ over me, lookin’ scared, like she had no idea she was capable of doin’ damage.

When my lungs recovered from the shock enough to start workin’ again, I sucked in a tanker full of air, but it hurt like the dickens. Knowin’ I was no’ goin’ to die was something of a relief, but the pain that accompanied that breath was anything but comfortin’. I’ve had the air knocked out of me before and know what to expect. This was no’ it.

I tried to sit up, but the zinger punched a yell out of my mouth that startled even me. I lay back, Elora was still bendin’ over me with a worried look.

“Bloody Paddy’s Day, woman! I told you to go easy on me. I think you broke a fuckin’ rib!”

Her mouth worked silently for a minute before she got out, “Ram, I’m...oh, gods... I’m so sorry. This is not.... I’ve executed that move a thousand times and I’ve never injured anybody. What can I do?” She started tuggin’ at the glove laces with her teeth, but then Storm came into view, standin’ behind her.

“Stay still, Ram,” he said in that calm, okay-everybody-I’m-in-charge way of his. “Med’s coming. Let them take a look before you move.”

If you’ve never had a broken rib, there’s no point tryin’ to explain, past sayin’ it hurts. The new wrinkle was that ‘twas just as bad seein’ those turquoise eyes droppin’ tears on my chest.

Bein’ someone’s mate was new to me. I mean, o’ course you hear all the stories, but nothin’ prepares you for the compulsion you feel to make things right for your female. I could no’ stand seein’ her in distress.

“Shhhh. ‘Tis probably no’ more than bruised ego. Stop now before you make me cry, too.”

When the doc arrived, Storm pulled Elora up and away to make room. He knelt down next to me and pushed ‘round tryin’ to see if he could make me scream. I swear all medics are sadists.

“Get me a wheelchair,” the doc said. “It’s probably a broken rib, but we’re going to need an x-ray to tell how bad and how many.”

I heard a murmur wave through the spectators just before a loud gruff voice said, “What the hel happened here?”

Sol swearin’? That was two for two in less than an hour.

I may no’ be rememberin’ perfectly because it was difficult to think about anything except the pain in my ribcage when I breathed in, even worse when I breathed out, but Storm seemed to be managin’ the situation and was maneuverin’ the sovereign out of the room.

The only thing I had to say to that was, “Good.”

The medics trotted me through the routine in the infirmary. Like I said, it was a busted rib.

I was sittin’ on the side of a bed. The tape helped and so did the pain meds, undoubtedly. Still, I was experimentin’ with findin’ a way to avoid breathing.

Kay and Storm came through the door with an athletic force that reminded me of what I must have looked like an hour before. Elora was with them, but lingerin’ on the threshold.

Kay shook his head. “What were you thinking?” Without stoppin’ for a reply, as if he assumed I was no’ thinkin’, he went on. “It’s a fracture. Six weeks off rotation, with NO strain on the rib. We’re going to get you up to your own bed so you can sleep for a couple of days.”

Storm brought the wheelchair over, locked it in place, and presented his forearm for me to grab onto. That was a lot of information to process through the haze of pain and pain meds. Off rotation another six weeks? That meant the decision about replacin’ Lan could also be delayed six weeks. Worth the price of a broken rib every day of the year. I should find a way to thank the lass proper.

I had to lean ‘round Storm to keep her in sight, which was no’ comfortable, but definitely worth it. She was still standin’ there in the doorway chewin’ on her bottom lip like she was afraid I’d be prosecutin’ for assault. Cute.

“You hungry?” Storm asked.

I shook my head no. “Loopy. Sleepy."

Kay helped me get a shirt on, then pushed me through the halls, through the Hub, and into the elevator. Yeah. O’ course it was humiliatin’ to know everybody was sayin’ that a decorated knight was laid flat by a human female. Paddy. I would never live it down. But I had bigger problems. Like tryin’ to figure out how she did it.

Kay backed the wheelchair into the elevator, then Storm and Elora got on. She skittered to the side of the car and put her back against the wall. When I looked up at her, I saw only sympathy on her face. She mouthed, “I’m sorry.”

I started to shrug, but the movement made me wince, which in turn made her drop her head.

At my door I punched in the code and the three of them entered. Kay helped me out of my pants and into the bed.

“Your pain med is in the kitchen,” he said. “Take one every six hours as needed. Do not take more than that. I’m leaving your phone right here by the bed. If you need anything, call one of us and we’ll be here in five minutes.”

I nodded. He turned to leave. “Kay.” He stopped. “How’d she do it?”

“Don’t know, but we’re going to find out. Monq thinks her body was designed for the particular physics of her native world. The translation to our dimension is what tore her up so bad when she arrived. She might be a bit stronger than she looks.”

“You think?”

Kay laughed. “Get some sleep. Take care of yourself.”

“Okay.” Already half asleep I said, “This bought us another six weeks.”

Kay nodded thoughtfully. “That it did, Rammel.”

I was dreamin’ about Elora Laiken bendin’ over my bed, her hand on my shoulder, callin’ my name while the perfume of jasmine teased my sex. I grabbed her arms to pull her to me so that I could feel the sweetness of her body coverin’ mine. I came partially awake when I heard her give a little cry. That was a split second before she landed across my ribcage. At that I came fully awake instantly, I assure you.

She scrambled off the bed while I held my bum rib.

“Rammel Hawking! Look what you’ve done. Probably made yourself worse.”

“Look what I’ve done? I thought I was dreamin’ because, silly me, I did no’ expect to wake and find you bendin’ over my bed in the middle of the night.” After playin’ that back in my head, I decided ‘twould be better clarified. “No’ that I mind wakin’ to find you bendin’ over my bed in the middle of the night, mind you.”

“I’m here to make sure you take the right amount of medicine at the right time. I convinced your friends to leave the door open so I could check on you. The last thing I wanted was to make this worse. It’s all… very embarrassing.”

“Aye,” I said as I threw the covers back and began the process of risin’ as gingerly as possible.

“What do you need?” she asked.

“Bathroom.”

“Let me help you. Take my arm.” She crooked her arm at the elbow to form a brace the same way Storm had done in the infirmary. I tested my weight on her arm and she did no’ seem bothered.

“You’re goin’ to help me pee?”

“You wish,” she said, but continued walkin’ with me until I reached the door.

When I came out of the bathroom, she was nowhere in sight, but she appeared in the doorway within seconds.

“Hungry?” she asked. I shook my head. “You can take two more pills if you want.”

I nodded. She set a glass of water on the night stand and handed me two pills. I downed them and said, “Thanks be to glory.”

“I’m Elora.”

I looked up at her. “What?”

“Never mind. It was a joke. A bad one, I guess.”

“Do no’ be mad about me askin’, but why are you here?”

“Bein’ your nurse is… well, it’s the least I could do, considering.” She sighed, then said, “Do you want anything else before you go back to sleep? I brought an extra club sandwich. It might not be good anymore. I don’t know.”

I shook my head and settled back. When she pulled the covers over me, I thought I might have died and gone to Summerland.

“You should sleep until morning. I’m going back to my place now. Here’s my phone.” She punched her name and number into contacts. “If you need something, I’m right next door.”

“Elora. You do no’ owe me a debt. You did nothin’ to be embarrassed about either.”

“Good night,” she said. I may have heard the door close or I may have already been asleep by that time. I can no’ say.

CHAPTER 10

Ram

I woke up thinkin’ I felt better until I tried to move. I knew I needed to set part of my mind to work managin’ pain. And I was hungry.

I spied a glass left next to the bed and wondered if I had no’ just dreamed that Elora had been in my apartment, takin’ care of me. I remembered she’d said something about a club sandwich and, sure enough, there was a club sandwich standin’ sentry on the kitchen counter, although it surely had seen a better day.

So ‘twas no’ a dream.

When I pulled the lettuce and tomato off, what was left was passably edible. Meat. Cheese. Bread. What’s no’ to like? I pulled a large juice box out of the refrigerator and sat down to see if I had messages. All clear.

I was plannin’ to call Storm to find out how much trouble I was in for sparrin’ with the outworlder, but there, plain as day, was a listin’ for Elora Laiken right before Engel Storm. Aye. I alphabetize by first name. Sue me.

Maybe I’m a fool for love, but I can no’ remember ever havin’ a bigger thrill than seein’ that she’d put her number in my phone. While I was sleepin’! I’d never in my life wanted to brag to other boys about what passed between myself and a female, but on that occasion I wanted to run down the hall shoutin’, “SHE PUT HER NUMBER IN MY PHONE!”

If my fuckin’ rib had no’ been broken, I’d have laughed out loud.

Naturally, I dialed her number. I mean, ‘twas the reason she gave it to me. Right?

“Hello.” She answered on the first ring.

“You left your number.”

“I know. How are you? Do you need anything?”

“I need help takin’ a shower.”

I heard a surprisin’ly girlish-sounding giggle. “You have other friends for that, Sir Hawking. I meant do you need anything like breakfast?”

Well, it never hurts to ask. “Havin’ breakfast now. Club sandwich sans lettuce and tomato, at least I think ‘twas what they had once been. And thank you. For takin’ good care of me.”

“Please do not thank me. I feel wretched about the whole mess, but we’re taking steps to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

“What kind of steps?”

“They’ve arranged to close the fitness level for the next couple of hours. Storm, Kay, and Monq are setting up a series of tests to quantify my, um, strengths…and weaknesses, I suppose.”

“And this is when?”

“Half an hour.”

“I’ll be there.”

“No. Isn’t that too much activity too soon?”

“Rib’s taped up nice and tight and tidy. Good as a cast. I’m no’ proposin’ bench press, just walkin’ to the elevator. Believe me, I’ve lived through worse than this.”

“But that’s a story for another time?”

“Could be, if you’re a really good girl.”

“I am that, but I won’t be asking for your definition of a really good girl.” I started to laugh and hated myself for bein’ forgetful. “How about a bargain? I’ll walk you down if you promise to come back and be truly inactive for a reasonable time after lunch.”

“Like a nap?”

“Exactly.”

“Will you join me?”

“No.”

It never hurts to ask. “You drive a hard bargain. Naps alone it is then.”

“Hallway. Twenty minutes?”

“You want to help dress me?”

“No.”

“Okay. Hallway. Twenty minutes.”

I was movin’ slow, but I did manage to clean up and get dressed in the time allotted. In fact, I stepped into the hall at the same time she opened her door. I smiled.

She laughed. “So, how are you feeling? Really.”

“No’ bad. I will no’ be takin’ any more sleepy medicines. I can sleep when I’m dead.”

She nodded. “Storm said you were tough like that.”

I could no’ have been more surprised if a human girl had broken my bones sparrin’ with me. “He did? Are you sure it was Storm? He’s no’ handy with the compliments.”

“All the more reason for you to be flattered.”

I nodded. “True enough.”

“I noticed your fine collection of stringed instruments. Do you play them all or are they for collection?”

“Collection?” I smiled at that. “No. I play. I come from musical people.”

We got on the elevator and punched sublevel three. I could tell by her body language that she was uncomfortable standin’ in the elevator car alone with me. I wondered if that meant she was interested. Paddy. I was lost as to how to woo a human woman. In my defense, I’d never had to. How ironic that the first time a woman was no’ throwin’ herself in my path was the first time I was wantin’ that very thing more than life?

When the elevators opened on sublevel three, two upper classmen held up their hands to block our exit.

“Sorry. This level is closed for the next two hours, sir,” said the one on the left, lookin’ directly at me.

I waved toward Elora and made no effort to suppress my sneer.

“She’s the reason this level is closed! Kindly remove your dunderheads from your little, juvie asses and stand clear.”

When the doors started to auto close, I reached out to stop them and really, really wished I had no’ when the pain shot straight to my rib. Fortunately the kids took my expression as an indication that I was out of patience, which I was, in addition to wantin’ to scream from the pain. I was spendin’ the mornin’ drug free after all. Among other things, I wanted my head clear durin’ Elora’s “tests”.

A look passed between the boys. I guessed it was a silent agreement to acquiesce because they stepped back.

I put my hand on the small of Elora’s back in a universal gesture of male claimin’ as we moved past and said, “Now you can make sure nobody else comes through unless ‘tis the sovereign himself.”

“The sovereign is already on this level, sir.”

“Very well. Then change that order to no one comes through.” They nodded. For good measure, I had to add, “If you two are the future of Black Swan knighthood, we’re in a lot of trouble.”

When Elora looked at me like I was bein’ overly harsh, I winked so there would be no question in her mind that my comment was more hazin’ than serious.

Sol, Monq, Storm, and Kay were in a little huddle discussion.

“Oh look,” I said to Elora. “They’re waitin’ in the weight room.”

She laughed. You’ve got to love a girl who appreciates the fine art of punditry.

“Rammel.” Storm raised his chin. “Thought you’d be sleeping.”

And from the look of it, he wished I was.

Elora said, “He can sleep when he’s dead,” at the same time I said, “I can sleep when I’m dead.”

We shared a look with each other and a chuckle, which seemed to annoy Storm.

“Sir Hawking,” Monq interjected. “We’re going to ask the lady to perform a series of physical tasks to determine how her constitution reacts to the physics governing our dimension.”

To Elora, he said, “The first item is weight. As a purely informal exercise, let’s each venture a guess as to how much you think she weighs. Take her height, muscle tone, and bone structure into account. Who wants to go first?”

Monq raised his clipboard, ready to write.

“Hundred fifty,” said Kay.

“One thirty-five,” said Storm.

Monq looked at me. I used the opportunity to look Elora over, nice and slow. “Somewhere between.”

“Name a number,” Monq said.

I pursed my lips and settled on, “A hundred and forty.”

“My dear.” Monq gestured to Elora.

She took off her shoes and stepped onto the scale.

After changing the bench mark twice and adjusting the slider Monq announced, “Two hundred thirty-six.”

Kay whistled. I took another look. My mate weighed more than I did. Great Paddy fuck a duck.

“That explains a lot,” Storm put in.

“What do you mean?” asked Monq.

“The night she arrived I had a hard time picking her up. Kay had to help me. I knew she felt really heavy, but I thought maybe it was partly because she was unconscious and partly because she was… slippery and hard to hold on to.”

“And none who work in the infirmary ever mentioned this?” I was lookin’ from Monq to Sol. They had to be aware of her weight because they’d moved her from gurney to bed, and probably back again.

“Maybe they thought we already knew.” Monq looked at Elora, waving his clipboard to emphasize his point. “Anyway, it’s an indicator of cell density, but it’s just a number.”

“If you’re worried that I may be self-conscious about my weight,” Elora gave him a crooked smile, “there’s no need. I have more pressing issues.”

“Yes. So let’s get to that,” said Sol. “We have less than two hours to learn what we can.”

Storm stepped toward Monq and Sol, sayin’, “In two hours she can get through a complete circuit of weights and machines.”

Monq nodded. “Then I’ll compare those results with what would normally be expected of a twenty-three-year-old female in good physical condition.”

An hour and a half later, they listened as Monq rattled off how much her numbers exceeded currently held records of males of any age.

I laughed out loud.

When Elora looked at me with a question on her face, I touched my rib and said, “I just realized you actually did take it easy on me. I could’ve ended up squashed like a bug. I should be thankin’ you for exercisin’ restraint.”

“That covers strength,” Monq said. “Ms. Laiken, will you indulge us with a treadmill test for speed?”

She nodded and climbed onto the newest state-of-the-art equipment, which topped out at twenty miles per hour. We could all see that, at that speed, she was practically fallin’ asleep.

“We’re going to need to test her out on the track,” Monq affirmed.

All five men proceeded to argue about the best way to do that when they were brought to a halt by Elora’s rather loud and obnoxious whistle.

“I gave you two hours.” She was lookin’ at Storm. “Now it’s your turn to have your fight style critiqued.”

Storm looked flummoxed. “Well, I…”

“That was the deal,” she said in a no nonsense tone.

I could no’ help but grin. Storm made a deal to have his fightin’ style critiqued by my girl? “Oh, this should be good.” Yeah. I said that out loud.

Fifteen minutes later, Storm and Kay were dancin’ around with half-assed written all over them. I wondered if she would detect the total lack of sincerity. They were no’ even botherin’ to wear gloves. Playin’ her is what they were doin’. I was curious to see if she could tell when somebody was havin’ her on.

I did no’ have long to wait to find out. No’ a full minute into the charade, she stopped them.

“Okay. Knock it off,” she said. “You’re putting on a show and nothing’s going to be accomplished that way. Take this seriously or, the next time you want to make a deal with me, I’ll call you a liar.”

Storm blinked a couple of times, nodded at Kay, and smashed his gloves together in a, “Let’s go,” gesture.

Thirty seconds later she stopped them to give Kay some detailed instruction about redistributin’ his weight.

“No,” she said. “When I call out a direction you take a step, then come right back to base.”

“Base?” he asked.

“That’s what we’re going to call the balanced posture to which you will always return. Forward.” Kay took a step forward then back. “I know you’re a big guy, but I also know you can move faster than that. Stop the kidding around and show me. Forward.”

She put him through his paces. After three tries of every direction she called, he started to catch on. And by Paddy, I could see from ringside that he would be benefittin’ from the tips once we took to the streets again.

‘Twas makin’ me wonder who she’d been before her crazy ass arrival in the Chamber of Jefferson Unit. And I was goin’ to find out everything there was to know.

When Kay faced off against Storm again, he was takin’ the process more seriously.

Next time she stopped them, her comments were for Storm. “Take a fighting stance.” He did. She pushed down on his left hand, up on his right. “Hold that posture.” She went behind him and took hold of his trapezius muscles with her hands. “Keep your hands there and release this tension here. Send it down into your shoulders and upper arms. That’s where you need the tension for extra power. Keeping the strain up here,” she pressed into his muscles with her fingers, “is just slowing you down and decreasing your stamina.” She backed up a few steps and nodded to my teammates. “Now. Go again.”

They practiced what they’d learned for a couple of minutes.

“Okay. That’s enough for a first lesson,” she said. “Practice that twice a day for the next eight days. Then I’ll give you something else.”

I found it tantalizin’ that she could be so bossy and so sexy all at the same time. I was lost in reviewin’ the curves and planes of her body when I heard Storm tell Sol, “By the gods. She knows what she’s talking about.”

While they were busy discussin’ how amazin’ it was to learn something new, I watched Elora walk away. Sol jumped in with his plan to exploit her for whatever could be learned and used to Black Swan advantage. Understandable that the interest of The Order would be his priority. But my priority was Elora Laiken and I’d make sure she did no’ do anything she did no’ want to do.

When they turned around to talk to the newly proclaimed mistress of martial arts and saw that she was gone, they looked at me like I’d been responsible for makin’ her disappear.

“Where is she?” Sol demanded.

“Do no’ know,” I said. “But she went that way.” I pointed toward the hall that led to the elevators and then headed that way. I did no’ have to turn around to know that Storm and Kay were close behind.

I spotted her at the Hub Bistro, readin’ the daily specials on the blackboard. I walked up to her back, leaned over her shoulder and said, “Can we join you?” close to her ear.

She lifted a shoulder, but did no’ look back at me. “It’s a free country.” I noticed her body stiffen slightly before she turned and looked between the three of us, “Isn’t it?”

If my heart had no’ already melted for her, it became mush in that moment as I tried to imagine how hard it would be to get deposited in a strange world no’ knowin’ anybody or even how things work. I felt a lump in my throat, but said, “Aye. ‘Tis a free country.”

Monq had come by to check on Elora just as she asked that question. “Well, that kind of has to be qualified,” he interjected. “You can’t come or go without a passport. You can’t drive without a driver’s license, registration, auto insurance, and proof your vehicle is up to code. You can’t work or even get health care without a social security number. You have to pay taxes on everything including air and water. The closest distance between points A and B may involve paying a road toll. There are over three hundred thousand federal laws. You have to educate your children according to legal standards set by someone who’s not you. There are laws about who can marry whom. But other than a few more such trivialities, it’s a free country.”

Apparently he’d satisfied himself that Elora was okay. So, with that, he nodded and walked off.

I looked up at the board above her head and back down into her vulnerable expression. “So what will you be havin’?”

She turned around. “Deciding between cream of mushroom soup and a hamburger.”

“Get both,” I said.

“That would be wasteful.”

“No’ at all. We’ll eat whatever is left.”

With no’ another word, she stepped up to the counter and placed an order for the soup and the hamburger. But when the girl started through the list of options, Elora lost her confidence. I stepped up beside her and said, “She’ll have it rare, American cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, pickles, yellow mustard, no sesame seeds with half and half fries.” Elora looked nothin’ but grateful for my intervention. “Let’s start there. Before long you’ll know exactly how you like it.”

“Thank you,” she said quietly, lookin’ ‘round like she would no’ want others to know she was no’ yet adept at orderin’ lunch.

“You’re welcome.” I smiled. “You want juice?”

She shook her head. “Chocolate milk.”

“Excellent choice.”

That earned me a little smile.

The four of us took a solarium table right next to the window. Some undergraduates had been about to sit down there, but they saw us headin’ in that direction and decided another table would suit their needs as well. When the gadget lit up like a carnival win, Storm and Kay went to get the food. I was beginnin’ to see there were benefits to bein’ out of commission.

“What foods have you tried that you like so far?” I asked.

“Well, everything chocolate.”

“Goes without sayin’.”

“Green beans with almond slices. Blackened salmon. Pumpkin bread.”

“Where did you get pumpkin bread?”

“In the infirmary. They said it’s a seasonal ritual. Everybody must eat something pumpkin in October.”

I nodded. “Unless you’re ready to fight like hel.”

Storm and Kay returned with trays of food on the tail end of a conversation about the moves Elora had shown them. They sorted out our orders and sat down across from the two of us.

Storm took a big bite of grilled cheese sandwich and, before he was finished chewin’, said, “Sol was going to ask if you’d consider training.”

Elora stopped chewin’ her sweet potato fry. “Self-defense training?”

Storm traded a cautious look with Kay before continuing. “Well, in a sense. Maybe you could help all the knights,” he seemed to be lost in thought for a second, “and students. It might improve our fatality count.”

A look of recognition ghosted over Elora’s face. “That night in the infirmary…”

When she did no’ finish the sentence, Storm answered as if she had. “That was actually a good outcome. The guy you saw lived to tell about an up close and personal vampire encounter.” Storm’s gaze flicked around the table and lingered on me for an instant. “He was lucky.”

“Yes,” she said simply.

“You are no’ under any pressure to agree,” I said.

“No. I think I want to do it and not just because I’d like to feel useful around here. If something I know could help your, um, effort, then it would give me some direction. A sense of purpose, I guess.”

“Well said.” Kay smiled with approval.

“But do you think the others would be receptive?” she asked.

“If they know what’s good for ‘em.” I punctuated that by touchin’ my taped rib.

My teammates smirked at me, but Elora said, “That’s not funny.”

I dropped my chin and challenged her with a smile. “I say ‘tis. And if I can find the humor, so can you.”

With her lips still pressed together and eyebrows drawn, she said, “I wouldn’t want anybody to be forced. That’s my only condition. If they want what I have to offer, it’s freely given, but it has to be their choice. That’s the only way it works anyhow. And speaking of choice,” she pinned me with a look, “you owe me a nap.”

“What?”

I laughed on the inside at Storm’s look of alarm. Sooner or later I was goin’ to have to tell him he did no’ stand a chance with the lass. But first I’d have to make her understand that she belonged to me. And I had to find a way to do it without scarin’ her off.

“We have another meetin’ with the sovereign. He definitely ranks above promises to nap. But it’ll probably be short, just officially lettin’ us off the hook for another six weeks.”

“How are you spending the rest of your day?” Storm asked Elora.

“I have a session with Monq and some personal stuff.”

I could tell by the look on Storm’s face he wanted to ask what ‘personal stuff’, but he managed to quash the impulse. “Have dinner with us?”

She turned a completely beguilin’ shade of pink. “If it’s okay with your teammates.” She looked at Kay, then me.

I laughed. “O’ course. Goes without sayin’.”

“Don’t make us beg,” said Kay and I could have hugged him for makin’ her feel welcome, like she had friends in this place that was no’ only new to her, but strange as well.

As I’d thought, the meetin’ was short, if no’ sweet. Sol was bringin’ up a team from Brazil to fill in until we were back on patrol.

“Get your heads around the decision on your fourth before the six weeks is up,” he said. “I want you back in rotation six weeks and one hour from the moment of Hawking’s latest mishap.”

“Hey,” I protested. He was makin’ me sound like a ne’er-do-well bumbler. I was ignored, but chose no’ to make a thing of it.

As soon as I got back to my apartment, I called media and asked about Elora’s hearin’.

The kid replied, “Which one?”

“There was more than one?”

“Yeah. A short one on October 1st, long one on October 2nd.”

“Send somebody up with copies of both.”

“Now?” the kid asked.

“No time like the present.”

“Yes, sir.”

Twenty minutes later I was poppin’ the first into the player and sittin’ down to watch. There was a big no-neck bruiser of an orderly off to the side, supposedly providin’ security. I almost laughed out loud and said to myself, "Yeah. Like that would have slowed her down if she’d taken a mind to run."

I have to tell you that watchin’ her anguish was just about the hardest thing I’ve ever been through. Yeah. There was a lot of information about her life before and the circumstances that had brought her here, but the pain was palpable and sent adrenaline shooting through my body. I watched both recordin’s all the way through, replayin’ some parts even though ‘twas excruciatin’ to watch. If she’d lived through it, I could make myself watch it.

The woman was tragedy walkin’. I pledged on the spot that I would treat her like glass and never deny her anything within my power.

That night, after most of J.U. had gone to bed, we clocked her on the track of the Courtpark at a speed of almost thirty miles an hour. ‘Twas a record in our dimension. She was really something special. And, human or no’, destiny had seen fit to give her to me.

CHAPTER 11

Ram

I was no’ above playin’ on Elora’s guilt. I’d use any tool at my disposal to get her to spend time with me. I did no’ lie, but let her believe that restricted duty was hard on me and, since she happened to feel responsible for that, she acted on her pity by spendin’ late afternoons watchin’ films with me.

Within moments of the first discussion on what to watch it became obvious that we did no’ share taste in flicks. So we agreed to take turns.

I thought that films portrayin’ various shades of sexuality might cause her to warm towards me. I did no’ select hard core pornography because that would be too obvious. So I went for sex embedded in lots of humor. She frequently pretended to be shocked, which never failed to make me laugh.

She’d say things like, “Ram, this is the worst thing I’ve ever seen,” or “Ram, I wish I could erase that from my memory,” but I believed, perhaps projected as Monq would say, that she was enjoyin’ the bawdy bits as much as I.

Her turn usually meant movies from bygone eras with costumes and endless talkin’. If it was no’ for the fact that I was randy as a goat because of sittin’ next to her for two hours straight, I’d have fallen asleep every time.

I learned that she loved music and I loved when she asked me to play for her. One such day, I put the guitar down after playin’ and said, “I watched the record of your hearin’s, both of them.” It broke my heart that she just looked at her feet and said nothin’. I did no’ know if she was mad or embarrassed, so I said, “Do no’ be mad or embarrassed. I will be your someone to talk to if you need it.”

She whispered, “Thank you,” but did no’ look up.

I knew she was fascinated with the idea of elves. Hel. I knew that from that first night at dinner when she could no’ stop lookin’ at my ear and grinnin’ like she’d just found sunken treasure. So I got a copy of Everything You Always Wanted To Know About Elves, But Were Afraid To Ask and presented it to her as a gift.

“What makes you think I’m afraid to ask?” she said.

I shrugged. “Just in case.”

“In case of what?”

“In case you find yourself unable to sleep, dreamin’ about me, and want to know something more about my species. Like how to seduce an elf.”

She scoffed at the last comment, but then said, “Your species?”

I did no’ know whether to be offended or no’. “Aye.”

She quieted, but still smiled. “Okay.”

And we left it at that, but I was hopin’ that she would read the part about matin’ and put it together that my interest in her went far beyond the obvious benefits that carnal knowledge has to offer.

She did no’ want to talk about her previous life, but was curious about mine. So I told her I had two siblings, one who was a joy, one who should have been executed at birth, that I liked horses almost as much as music and that I spent a lot of time in a wildlife preserve growin’ up.

One afternoon she asked out of nowhere, “Why did you join The Order?”

I said, “Wild child, I suppose. They promised I would have adventures my brother could no’ imagine and that was exactly what I wanted to hear.” I left the movie on mute and turned toward her on the sofa. “Tell me something about your life before.”

She shrugged and looked away. “Palace life was restricting and suffocating. In some ways I had more freedom when I was a prisoner of Black Swan.”

I felt my gut tighten when she referred to her confinement in the infirmary durin’ the time I was away on leave. I wanted to protest, to say that Black Swan does no’ hold innocent parties prisoner, but it seems that sometimes we do. I was ashamed of Black Swan for reactin’ to her arrival with fear and I was ashamed of havin’ left my mate to fend for herself, broken and alone in a strange world.

The same day we had that conversation, I said my goodbye after procurin’ Elora’s agreement to let me walk her to dinner, and opened the door to leave.

Storm was standin’ there with his hand up in the air like he was about to knock.

His face fell into a disgruntled scowl and he said to me, “Do you no’ have a place of your own?”

I gave him a smile that unquestionably laid down the gauntlet. “I like it here,” I said.

After years together, I knew the boy well and could tell that he was about to punch me, but his eyes went over my shoulder and, apparently, Elora’s watchful presence tempered his possessive reflex.

She welcomed him in, but I have to say that watchin’ her close the door behind him, leavin’ me, her mate, standin’ out in the hall? Well, it was hard to swallow. I wanted to plow down the door and make it plain that there would be no more closed doors between my mate and me. No’ to mention that there would be no more entertainin’ Sir Storm.

The battle lines were drawn between Storm and me, but he met my challenge blow for blow.

One night he had a cupcake with a candle in it delivered to our table for dessert. He pulled a lighter out of his pocket, lit the candle and set the plate in front of Elora.

“Happy birthday,” he said.

She looked surprised, delighted, and amazed. “How did you know?”

“I looked up your counterpart’s birthday. Figured it would be the same.”

“Brilliant!” she gushed. “Storm, I’m so moved that you went to the trouble to learn my birthday and do this for me.”

When she bent to blow out the candle, he smirked at me. Brilliant, my ass.

She did no’ always have dinner with us. She’d made friends with people who worked in the infirmary while she was there and it pleased me that she knew people outside B Team.

One night I was restless and decided to go down for a drink, maybe pick up a game of pool. When I closed my door, I saw Elora headin’ away from me, toward the elevator. I jogged toward her silently, no’ wantin’ to call out as things at J.U. get quiet after ten o’clock. When she got in the elevator and turned around, she saw me comin’ and put her hand in the door.

“Much obliged,” I said as I walked in beside her. “Where you headed so late?”

She released the door and turned to me. “There’s a guy, a knight, who was hurt while I was in the infirmary. He’s still recovering. I go read to him at night.”

“Read to him?” She nodded. “Does he no’ have a TV?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes. He has a TV, Ram, but that’s not the same thing as personal attention.”

I supposed I could see that.

“He doesn’t have the energy to carry on a conversation, but needs company. This seemed like a good solution.”

It made sense in a feminine, and therefore odd, way. “What’s that you have there?” I was referrin’ to a folder of papers in her hand.

“I type up as much of the stories, fairy tales, as I can remember.” I narrowed my eyes at her. “Sorry. I mean, um, elf tales.” Her smile was sheepish as if she had forgotten ‘twas a trigger for my temper.

“Better. I’ll go with you. I’d like to hear these elf tales myself.”

“Okay.” She looked dubious. “But remember, Ram, this is for his benefit.”

“What? Are you suggestin’ I can no’ be selfless?”

She just laughed.

I sat on the windowsill in Touchstone’s room and listened to Elora read. I did no’ think the story was great, but listenin’ to my mate’s voice was so soothing I felt a calm settle over me for, perhaps, the first time in my life when in an environment outside the New Forest. The feelin’ was so strange I could almost say ‘twas alien to my more naturally frenetic state of bein’.

The story was about a young girl, a ragin’ bitch of a stepmother, and a bunch of dwarves. The dwarf thing was creepy if you ask me. I would have kept my opinion to myself, but in the elevator goin’ back upstairs, she asked, “What did you think?”

I can no’ lie to my mate. So I told her the truth. “’Twas a stupid story.” Her eyes flared wide for a second, but then she just laughed and did no’ seem to mind that I did no’ care for the tale. “But I thoroughly enjoyed hearin’ the tellin’ of it,” I added quietly.

The compliment made her turn shy. She was a paradox. This smart polished woman with, well, super powers also had a vulnerability and even innocence about her. Most people, those who think I’m shallow, would question the Fates makin’ such a complex matin’ for me. I mean most people would no’ use ‘sensitive’ as a descriptor when they think of me. But I would do whatever needed doin’ to meet her needs, however complicated they were.

After that I joined her every night to hear another story.

And almost every day with Elora brought a new revelation or surprise.

“You what?” I was almost shakin’ from hearin’ her tell me that she had personal encounters with that insane beast downstairs, the one who did a fine impression of rabid.

“You heard me perfectly well. I’ve been working with him for weeks and we’ve progressed to the stage where I need to see how he’ll react to other people.”

I narrowed my eyes at her. “Elora, do no’ try to deflect with that haughty superior thing you do ‘cause we’re stayin’ on point and ‘tis this, people call me reckless, but even I think this is looney. You’d have to have a death wish to go inside the cage with that animal!”

“Come see. You’ll change your mind. Promise.”

When she looked at me that way, I knew I would never stand a chance of standin’ in her way when she wanted something. If she wanted to see me torn apart by that feral hound, I had no choice but to submit.

Then I saw her checkin’ a tranq pistol and packin’ it in a backpack.

“You know people do no’ usually need tranq’s big enough to bring down a rhino when they’re out for a stroll with their pet.”

“Just a precaution.” She looked at me sideways and smiled. I knew what was next. “Don’t be such an old woman. Come on.” She finished fillin’ the pockets of her hoodie with some kind of dog treats.

I had to laugh at the situation. “Who would have ever thought that you would end up being a bad influence on me?”

She stopped me at a corner of the network of hallways in the subterranean storage facilities, pulled the tranq gun from her bag, and handed it to me.

“Elora,” I began.

“It’s just a precaution, Ram. Promise. The pistol is loaded if you need it. But don’t worry. You won’t. Just give me a couple of minutes to say hello and prepare him. When I’m ready for you, I’ll call out.”

I caught her by the arm as she started away feelin’ really conflicted between allowin’ her to try and prove something with that monster and my desire to keep her safe. “Elora, are you very, very sure about this?” At first I did no’ grasp the implication of the sounds I was hearin’. She was makin’ chicken noises at me like we were ten years old.

“Bawk bawks? You’re no’ serious.”

Instead of replyin’, her bawk bawks just kept gettin’ louder and more obnoxious.

“I give you a first rate education in pop culture and then you use it against me?” She was good at it, too. There’s an art to bawk bawk delivery. “Oh for... fine. Waitin’ here.” But no’ likin’ it. At. All.

I held my breath, waitin’ for the inevitable snarlin’ and crashin’ against the chain link cage. But there was no’ a sound except for the clank of the metal gate latch openin’ and closin’, followed by Elora’s voice loud enough to know she was speakin’ but soft enough for me to no’ hear what was bein’ said, even with my ears.

When she called my name, I stepped around the corner bringin’ the strange sight into my field of vision. She was inside the cage, smilin’ like she’d won the lottery, standin’ next to the creature that was at present lookin’ more like a dog than a Tasmanian devil. She was holdin’ a leash and the mutt was sittin’ next to her actin’ like it was the most normal thing in the world.

When I took a step forward the dog rose to a crouch and pointed his ears toward me with a concentration that was alarmin’ in spite of the fact that he was behind chain link and remained quiet. The silence was short lived. As soon as I took another step he barked a warnin’.

Elora snapped the leash and told him to sit. When he did, she gave him one of those treats she’d stored in her pocket. The dog did no’ take his eyes off me, but did no’ show any further aggression, with her all the while tellin’ him he was a good boy. I would no’ have believed it if I had no’ seen it with my own eyes. I needed to add Enchantress of Wild and Crazed Creatures to her list of super powers.

Then she crossed a line. She got the dog to lie on his back and beg for a tummy rub.

“Now you’ve gone too far, Elora,” I said. “Allow the poor devil to keep a little bit of dignity. After all, he was originally intended to be J.U.’s mascot.”

She just laughed. “Come close to the cage so I can reach out and touch you.” She reached through a space about five feet high that was just big enough to get her arm through.

When I came closer the dog’s gaze flicked to the tranq gun and he gave up a growl that I would have thought was too soft for human ears to hear, but she corrected him immediately. She has extraordinary hearin’. Good to know.

She began to pet me, rubbin’ her hand across my hair and down my face to my shoulder. “See, Blackie, Ram’s a good boy, too.” I knew my plight had taken a pathetic turn when I realized I was revelin’ in bein’ petted and told I was a good boy, too. “Would you back up about twenty feet? We’re going to find out if he can maintain his manners on the outside.”

“Elora…”

“Keep your gun in hand. It’s just a precaution. He’ll be fine.”

She unlatched the gate and led the dog out, tellin’ him to heel, which he did. They walked away from me even though I could tell that no’ lookin’ back at me over his shoulder was goin’ against the dog’s sense of self-preservation.

“By Paddy, the beast trusts you,” I said under my breath.

When they started comin’ toward me, I laid the pistol over my forearm, kind of slow and casual like there was no’ a thing unusual about that. Elora walked the dog past me like ‘twas an everyday occurrence and then gave him praise and treats. He wagged his tail and grinned like a puppy.

“Well, what do you think?” she asked, giggling when he tried to steal licks from her face.

“I think nobody is goin’ to believe it. You’re amazin’.”

I did no’ know exactly how to interpret the look she gave me, maybe pride, or victory, but I knew I would never get tired of seein’ that expression on her face.

Blackie did no’ want to go back into the kennel, and who could blame him? But he proved that he could be bought for a price and ‘twas seven chicken treats.

That night at dinner Elora grinned as she told the rest of B Team about the transformation.

“You should have seen it. That slatherin’ mad beast was gentle as a little lamb,” I said.

“I’m not sure which one of you is crazier, my teammate,” Storm looked at me with daggers comin’ from his dark eyes, “or the new arrival to this world who may not know exactly how dangerous two-inch fangs can be.”

I opened my mouth to reply, but before I could speak I heard her sayin’, “Oh look who’s talking. How long are vampire fangs? Blackie’s fangs are not covered with bacteria that transforms DNA. So of the two of us, who’s crazier, Storm? You or me?” I sat back and smirked. My mate had put the great stolid Storm in his place. “Come with us tomorrow.” She looked between Kay and Storm. “Let me show you. Blackie needs to get used to more people.”

The next day Elora repeated the same maneuver, walkin’ Blackie past three of us, without incident.

“Which one of you three brave knights is willing to be the first to pet the dog?”

I’m willin’ to admit to a slight hesitation, but I could no’ let one of my teammates outshine me in Elora’s eyes. So I handed the pistol to Storm and stepped forward.

“Blackie, sit,” she said. “Come toward us slowly, no sudden movements. Hold the back of your hand out for him to sniff.”

The dog gave my hand a thorough sniffin’ followed by a little lick. I took that to mean I was cleared to touch in dog language. I touched his head between the ears and saw that he was relaxed. So I ran my hand over his lush coat that varied from coarse outer hair to silky undercoat.

“Good fella,” I told him.

With chicken treats and encouragement from Elora, he allowed Kay and Storm to pet him. Storm, bein’ the least animal-oriented of us, was probably least impressed, but he made an effort.

Blackie had just been put back in the kennel when he made all of us jump with a sudden burst of hellhound behavior. He was showin’ his very beautiful and lethal-lookin’ white fangs, snarlin’ and throwin’ himself against the chain link.

“Hey. What’s going on here?” A maintenance worker had come ‘round the corner.

Storm looked from the man to the dog, and back again. “I think maybe you’re the one who needs to answer that question. Is that a taser on your belt?” The man narrowed his eyes and looked uncertain as to how to answer. As Storm started walkin’ toward him he backed up. “What would maintenance personnel be doing with a taser inside Jefferson Unit?”

“It’s for self defense. How would you like to have the job of feeding that monster and cleaning up after it?” He looked both defensive and guilty.

Elora gasped. “You’ve been using a taser on my dog?”

Before I could process the fact that she’d referred to Blackie as ‘my’ dog, she was zappin’ the devil with his own taser and he was jerkin’ around on the ground. Storm took the taser from her hand before she killed the guy. That would have been a mess to clean up.

Kay had already called security. He put his foot on the maintenance worker’s chest when he tried to sit up. “I suggest you stay down until security gets here,” he said.

‘Twas no’ long before Kay was tellin’ them to take the guy and hold him pendin’ further inquiry. The investigation did no’ go in his favor, but did make all the difference to ‘Elora’s’ dog.

Elora took over Blackie’s care and feedin’. Soon afterward she had the dog off leash chasin’ tennis balls down the hallways and he was re-introduced as the Black Swan mascot at Lan’s posthumous ceremonial decoration. I can no’ tell you how proud I was when she entered the Chamber lookin’ like Diana herself.

She grinned before takin’ a seat next to me, the dog on her other side.

Before long she moved the dog into her apartment and it was okay with me. I imagined there was little in this world that Elora could no’ handle, but whatever was left, the dog would take care of. I suspected he would be fiercely protective of her and, like I said, that was okay with me.

“Blackie went berserk.” Her gaze flew to Kay when she realized that might be an offensive thing to say to a Berserker. “Uh, sorry, Kay.” He shrugged as if to say that he was no’ bothered. “They had this guy in chains, taking him across the Hub. Let me tell you, Blackie did not like him at all.”

O’ course we knew who ‘twas and knew exactly why the dog would object to a vampire bein’ near his mistress. We looked at each other unsure how much truth tellin’ would be prudent.

I turned my palms up to say I had no objection to havin’ her know what she’d observed. Storm looked at Kay who raised a shoulder, then he said, “You saw a very old and notorious vampire named Istvan Baka. He was captured nearly a hundred years ago and has been held in a facility in the Carpathian Mountains.”

“What’s he doing here?” she asked.

I answered. “’Tis above our pay grade. ‘Tis impossible to keep news of his bein’ here quiet. The purpose of the visit? Maybe only Sol knows.”

CHAPTER 12

Ram

Sol had called us, meaning B Team, to come into his office. It had already been decided that Ghost would be takin’ Lan’s place when I was cleared from the D.L. in ten days. So we had no idea what ‘twas about.

More curious was the fact that Elora had been included.

The four of us were gathered in the conference room adjacent to Sol’s office.

“Where is she?” Sol asked.

Storm got out his phone and called, but got no answer.

“Probably on the rugby field with her hellhound,” Kay said.

Sol opened the door and told the kid at the desk to go look for her at the rugby field.

“So what’s this about?” Storm asked Sol.

“We’ll wait until Ms. Laiken is present.”

That was my cue to take advantage of the coffee and cookie service.

I was halfway through a cup when she came breezin’ in, lookin’ for all the world like autumn itself with her bright hair and color in her cheeks. How I would have loved to grab her and kiss her senseless. She closed the door behind her and unsnapped Blackie’s leash. “Am I late?”

Sol’s ears turned pink from wantin’ to dress her down right there, but since she did no’ work for him, technically, he had to rein it in. ‘Twas amusin’ beyond description.

The dog, bein’ exceptionally smart as well as an excellent judge of character, came right to me, put his head on my thigh, and waited - eyes bright, ears forward, for a pet. As I gave the pooch a rub behind the ear with one hand, Elora sat down next to me and grabbed the half-eaten cookie I was holdin’ with the other. Some people might have bristled at such a proprietary display, but ‘twas pure pleasure to have her behave in such a familiar way with me. She tried to wash the ginger snap down with my coffee, but pulled back and screwed up her face when she tasted it.

I laughed. “Serves you right. Get your own.”

Sol cleared his throat. “Shall we get down to business, children?” ‘Twasn’t particularly surprisin’ that we did no’ answer a rhetorical question. I waited quietly for him to get past his little pout and continue. Elora nodded and got up to make herself a cream and sugar with a touch of coffee. “You’re aware that we’re losing ground with the vampire infestation in New York…”

He had to be talkin’ specifically to B Team, what was left of us, obviously. Elora would no’ know anything about whether or no’ we were holdin’ ground with vampire. At least no’ to my knowledge.

“So the Powers That Be have decided it’s time for extraordinary measures. I was instructed to offer the vampire, Istvan Baka, temporary freedom in exchange for helpin’ us restore the balance.”

I must tell you, that was a stunnin’ remark if I ever heard one. Vampire hunters workin’ with vampire? Everything in my gut said no. No. No. But as it turned out, there was more.

“He has agreed to help us in exchange for a private audience, unbound, with Elora Laiken.”

My eyes flew to her so fast I saw her stop stirrin’ her coffee.

‘Twas as if an invisible giant had reached down, grabbed me by the collar, and jerked me to my feet. That’s how fast I was up and sayin’, “NO!” in unison with Storm.

Sol sat back lookin’ like he’d expected that reaction and was plannin’ to dig in for a lengthy discussion if needs be.

Kay looked at Sol and said, “How does he even know about her?”

“He saw her when he was here last week. Described her in such detail there was no mistaking who he meant. He actually thought she was a knight. Called her Lady Swan.”

As she was reseatin’ herself, Elora gave Sol a level look while stirrin’ her cup. “I’m in.”

I looked at her like I could no’ have heard right, but saw out of the corner of my eye that Storm was about to throw a tantrum. Even in the middle of bein’ scared out of my mind for Elora, I recognized that there was something funny about puttin’ the words Storm and tantrum together in the same sentence.

She was ignorin’ us both. “Any ideas why he would make his agreement conditional on talking to me?”

“I didn’t ask. Anything more would be pure speculation,” Sol replied.

“Elora,” I felt my face heat from the sincere feelin’ that everything depended on findin’ the right words to bring her to her senses, “please believe me. ‘Tis one thing to read about vampire in trainin’ manuals and something quite different to come face to face with one. And, while we’re on the subject,” I turned on Sol, “you can no’ truly be thinkin’ to turn that monster loose in New York City?”

Sol stood up, looking at ease with arms crossed over his chest, and answered slowly. “Seen the news lately? The numbers of missing women have become alarming and we’re not getting anywhere. Not to mention the fact that our best team has been off duty for a while.” He let that hang in the air for a moment, probably to make us feel guilty. It worked. “We’ve reached a point where the potential benefit outweighs the risk.”

I threw my hands up in frustration and then grabbed for the rib that protested mightily. I decided ‘twas time to sit and try to calm myself.

“You’ve asked Elora to perform a service for The Order. She said yes. I don’t mean this to sound disrespectful, but why are we here?”

When Kay said “we”, he nodded toward Storm and me.

“Because you’re going to escort her there and back.”

Storm made a rude noise that sounded a lot like disbelief, but Kay went on. “What does he mean by private, unbound audience?”

“It would be more accurate to say semi-private. There’s a very large mirror in his, ah, room that is observation glass on the other side. You’ll be able to hear and see everything that transpires.”

Elora laughed softly. “Well, we must be certain you all feel more secure.” She looked at Sol in open challenge. “I have a condition.” We all looked at her. “When we return, I want to be accorded the same freedoms as anyone else. I want to be able to go shopping or to performances of the arts or take classes or whatever. In the future, whether or not I’m ‘accompanied’ should be my decision.”

Sol sat down at the end of the table. “I can’t give an answer without consulting with Monq.”

“Alright. Get him in here.” Elora sounded imperious.

“I’d watch my tone if I were you, young lady.”

Elora rose in an explosion of intensity that startled all of us. “I don’t work for you, Mister Sovereign. And unless you want to change that and make my employment official, what exactly is my motivation for ‘watching my tone?’ What am I to fear? Incarceration?” The last word was scalding with sarcasm. “It’s simple. You need something from me. I need something from you. If such negotiating tactics work for a vampire, why not for me?”

Sol appraised her with a hard glint in his eye and a tick in his jaw. Then he reached for his phone and dialed Monq. “Can you come to my office straightaway?” He said to the group in general, “Wait here,” and left the room.

It was a stunner to see my sweet, and normally gentle, woman act like a meth-crazed commando. She just kept gettin’ more and more interestin’.

Kay looked at Elora. “No need to hold back. Just come straight out and say how you feel.”

“Look,” said Storm, “I know this place must feel confining.” Elora snorted. “And I agree it’s time to adjust your security clearance so you can move around more freely, but this audience with Baka thing… Ram is right.” He glanced toward me in acknowledgement and I thought surely we must have been transported to another dimension ourselves. ‘Twas simply no’ part of Storm’s M.O. to say things like, ‘Ram is right’. “For once.” He had to add that. O’ course. “You don’t just have tea with a vampire. They’re danger in the first degree. Tricky. Lethal. And evil -regardless of what the training manual says. And this is the oldest one we know of.”

Elora was unmoved. “I’m not being dismissive. I’ve spent enough time with the manual and the annals to know that what you’re saying is true. But I’m not the girl next door.” Reconsidering that, she turned and gave me a conspiratorial smile. “Well, I am the girl next door to you.” To Storm, she stated the obvious. “I’m strong and fast.”

“And way too cocky!” Storm interrupted.

“Even if that was true, it’s not your call, Sir Storm,” she said.

“And you’re not worried about the fact that he specified ‘unbound’? If all he wants to do is talk, why would he care whether he’s bound or not?” Storm asked.

“Good point,” I said with a finger pointed at Storm to indicate that I was in complete agreement. Therefore, she should listen to me.

Kay said, “Putting that aside for now, there’s the issue of trance.” He looked ‘round. “We had nearly a decade of training to resist it. It’s not something you can pick up in a weekend workshop. If you’re hypnotized, all the strength and speed in the world won’t help you.”

“Not a problem. I’m not hypnotizable.” She looked at me. “Is that a word?” I stared, no’ knowin’ whether or no’ it was a word and no’ carin’ . Vocabulary was the last thing on my mind. When I did no’ respond, she said, “Ask Monq,” then looked at her fingernails.

The three of us were exchangin’ looks indicatin’ various degrees of shock, when Sol and Monq walked in.

Kay got right to it, which was more than fine by me. “Is it true she can’t be hypnotized?”

“Yes. It’s true,” Monq said. “A very useful trait should she decide to proceed with the meeting.”

I could no’ believe my ears. Monq was supposed to be the smartest of all of us.

Elora looked at Sol. “Did I mention that somebody needs to take care of my dog while I’m gone? Someone of my choosing.”

Storm looked at Monq like he was a traitor. “You’re going along with this madness?”

He was nonplussed. “Sir Storm, this is an ideal assignment for Ms. Laiken and, so far as security clearance goes, her profile scores indicate candidacy for top level duty.” He leaned toward Storm and stage whispered loud enough for all of us to hear. “She outscored you!”

Storm huffed in response. “Why not just bring him here?”

“Baka has proven to be reliable to the letter of written agreement. Once a deal is made, he can be trusted to abide by it, but he will not hesitate to take advantage of any contractual loophole, no matter how minute.

"We brought him here to assess the developing situation before it gets away from us completely, but transporting him, and striking bargains with him, well, there’s always a slight chance that we didn’t write a flawless contract. The facility in Romania is without equal. Until we need him out, he stays in.”

Quietly, Elora turned toward Sol. “So. Do we have a deal?”

He looked her over and said, “Yes. If you take the vow of secrecy. And, by the way, since you work for me now, you will give me the deference I require.”

“Yes sir,” she said, nodding seriously.

“You need to go get your inoculation.”

“What’s involved in that?”

“You never had shots as a child?”

“You mean with needles like they use in the infirmary?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Well, they administer tiny little doses of the vampire virus combined with an antidote and it instigates an immunity in your system.”

“Okay.” Then she brightened and turned to the three of us. “Road trip!” She sounded like we were off to Disneycamp. I was gettin’ angrier by the minute because I believed both Sol and Monq had downplayed the danger of bein’ alone in a room with the most infamous vampire ever. No’ havin’ ever faced a vampire, she could no’ begin to imagine what it meant. To her the prospect was as much at arm’s length as one of her stupid stories. “When do we leave? How long will we be gone and, most importantly, what do I wear?”

Storm lifted his chin at Monq, crossed his arms over his chest. “What if the three of us refuse to go?”

Bam! I thought. A trump card. Way to go, Storm.

“Then we’ll send one of the other teams,” Sol replied and I deflated just as quickly as I’d been excited.

Storm pressed his lips together, probably to keep from turnin’ the air blue. I flopped into my chair in utter disgust, but my rib immediately reminded me there was a price to pay for forgettin’ the injury. I winced, but did no’ make a sound.

It seemed we had no other options. If we did no’ go, some other team that cared less about Elora’s well bein’ would take our place and that was unacceptable. All we could do was go along and hope for the best.

The Operations Office arranged for papers so that she could travel internationally. I went with her for the first shot in the series.

When she looked alarmed at the sight of the needle, I said, “’Tis no’ nearly as long or scary as vamp fangs.”

She narrowed her eyes at me and took the shot like a champ. I waited with her for the two hours of observation required. While we were waitin’, we started the process of gettin’ her outfitted for the trip.

I sat my laptop on the table and answered her questions about what to take. At the end of the two hours, we moved the operation to her apartment.

‘Twas heaven bein’ close enough to smell her jasmine scent and feel the radiance of her body heat. ‘Twas hell to be so close to her and no’ reach out to wind that shiny hair around my fist, or bury my face in her neck. Or pull her close to find out if her body would mold to mine the way I fantasized that ‘twould. A thousand times an hour.

As she concentrated on laptop shoppin’, I took my time studyin’ every luscious curve. Sometimes I thought she might be turned on by my attention, because I’d have the pleasure of watchin’ her nipples tighten and bud through the lightweight silk knit top, but it could have been drafts.

My hands were so close to reachin’ out and touchin’ that I had to put them between my thighs and the chair, literally sittin’ on them.

I chose to believe that she worked hard to ignore the signals passin’ between our bodies because the alternative was that she really was no’ that interested. Paddy. I had no idea what I’d do in that event.

I saw that she’d ‘gone away’ again, lost in thought. I tapped her knee lightly. “Elora?” When her eyes unclouded and she focused on me, I said, “Welcome back.”

“Sorry.” She smiled. “Where were we?”

“Talkin’ about dress-for-warmth technology. I think you’d look good in that color.” I pointed at a jacket that was a dark red and slapped away the thought that ‘twas the color of new blood. “O’ course you look good in every color.”

“Silver tongue.”

I smiled. “Come taste.”

It had become a familiar exchange. I could no’ wait for the day when she would no’ reply with a scoff and a huff.

“That takes care of clothes. Now on to the next homework phase.”

“What do you mean?”

“I need to learn all I can about this Istvan Baka. Right now, all I know is that he’s an old vampire held captive by Black Swan, he’s good at negotiating, and he’s arrogance personified.”

“How do you know that? The arrogance, I mean.”

“That day I saw him in the Hub. It was written all over him.”

“Oh. Well, I’m no’ exactly the end-all authority, but I’ve heard he sits in a plush accommodation writin’ vampire romance novels under a nom de plume. And that they’re best sellers.”

She blinked slowly. “You are joking, right?”

“I can see why you’d think so. It does sound fanciful and farfetched. The irony is juicy, huh?” I stood up, stretched and yawned. Either the healin’ or the worry about Elora was drainin’ my energy. “Probably just a rumor.”

That was when I caught her starin’ at my abs. “Hey! Caught you checkin’ out the machine. Look at this.”

I raised my tee and treated her to my version of a belly dance. The fact that I was able to it without pain meant I was almost well.

It took longer than expected for her to pull her eyes away and say, “Ughhhh!” She closed the laptop with a resolute click. “Does it even cross your mind that this is not appropriate behavior? You could use a few months of finishing school, you know that? On second thought, make that years.”

“Finishin’ school?” I repeated and said, “Now that is a joke!” Would she no’ just be astounded to learn that royal progeny get ‘finished’ to death?

“No, it’s not a joke! Blackie has better manners than you do, elf.”

I toyed with bein’ offended, but decided ‘twas a fair comment. After all, part of my rebellion against bein’ a royal was to reject cultivated aires.

“Really? That bein’ the case, in your book it would be better manners for me to fall on my back with big, naked balls rollin’ from side to side, tongue hangin' out, askin’ for a nice tummy rub? 'Cause I can manage that. Right here and now.” I pointed at a spot on the floor next to her feet and imagined gettin’ naked, rollin’ around, and beggin’ like Blackie did. Maybe he was onto something.

“And besides…“ She had a way of sidesteppin’ when she did no’ want to answer a question, “…doesn’t that,” she pointed to my stomach, “hurt your injury?” Her eyes then narrowed to slits. “Or have you been faking this whole time to get attention?”

Faking it? I could no’ seem to form a thought beyond that grossly unfair accusation. The very person who'd done the damage claimin’ I was fakin’! I think my mouth was hangin’ open when I saw the mischievous light in her eye and knew she was baitin’ me.

“Got cha.”

I felt an appreciative smile formin’ all of its own accord. “Seems I’ve taught you well.”

She huffed and gave a throaty kind of laugh I had no’ heard before, but definitely wanted to hear again. In addition to makin’ me rock hard, it made me want to press my face between her breasts and ask her to do it again so I could feel the vibration.

In truth, I did no’ know how much longer I could hold out. Flirtin’ with Elora was fun. Sure. But no’ as much fun as touchin’. Wouldn’t you know that the first woman to no’ be throwin’ herself at me would be my mate?

How’s that for karma?

I mean, it had been almost six weeks since I’d had a good body-buffin’. First time that could be said since I was, well, let’s just say I was young. As it turned out, everything they said about wantin’ your mate and just your mate was true. Seemed my only chance of ever gettin’ laid again was to wait until Elora realized that we were supposed to be together.

Human-elf pairin’s were uncommon, but did happen occasionally. I’m no’ sure about what Mother Nature was thinkin’ on that one because humans are no’ monogamous like elves. For one thing.

CHAPTER 13

Ram

Storm and Kay were already waitin’ at the jeeps in front of J.U., talkin’ to the drivers, when I held the door open for Elora. She hesitated.

“What’s wrong?” I said.

She smiled at me. “It’s an occasion. The first time I’ve been outside in this world.”

My heart clenched in my chest at the simple happiness she expressed from something taken so much for granted.

She stepped through the door pullin’ her rollin’ bag, and looked up into the night sky. “Look, Ram, the moon is almost full. What a beautiful night.”

Storm gestured for Elora to climb into the backseat of the jeep nearest him and she did. He swung himself in next to her before I had a chance to protest, leavin’ me standin’ there with my thumb in my butt.

I got in the other jeep with Kay, but had a sour feelin’ about her ridin’ next to Storm.

“What’s the matter with you?” Kay said.

“Nothin’.” I pouted.

“Uh-huh.”

When we pulled up to the jet on the tarmac, I saw Storm lean over and whisper something in Elora’s ear. That was when I realized it would be a miracle if I got through this without killin’ my teammate.

I hurried to get on board so I could snag the seat next to Elora no matter where she decided to sit. She went straight for the bench seat and strapped herself in. I practically dove for the seat next to her and looked up in time to see the consternation on Storm’s face. Now I must tell you, I had no desire to flaunt my success, but I could no’ have suppressed a smirk if my knighthood depended on it.

Storm sat down across from us and looked at me like he wanted to scrape me off his boot.

I heard Elora’s voice and looked up, but she was talkin’ to Storm. “So, what’s up with the V.I.P. treatment?”

“The Order owns six of these. We share this one with other installations in North America, but they’re shuffled as needed.”

“And you’re not worried about the carbon footprint?”

Storm looked confused and glanced at me, as if I knew what the fuck that might be, before sayin’, “What’s a carbon footprint?”

“It’s the ecological cost of the amount of fossil fuel being burned.”

He shook his head. “We’ve been on nuclear for a long time.”

“Okay.” That seemed to resolve that Q and A. “So how long is the flight? And where are we landing?”

“Bucharest,” he said. “About eight and a half hours from now. We’ll have some dinner and sleep through the trip. When you wake up, we’ll be in Romania.”

Once we were at cruise altitude, Minerva came by to rattle off what was stocked in the kitchen. I noticed that Minerva spoke to me and made a point of pretendin’ that Elora was no’ on the plane.

“Give us a minute,” I told her. She smiled her Hollywood smile and moved to the back to discuss the menu with Kay.

Elora leaned into me and whispered. How pitiful was it that her breath on my face was the most erotic thing I’ve ever felt. My entire body tensed like ‘twas turned to stone.

“Would you get me a corned beef on rye with Dijon? And a Diet Coke with lime?”

“O’ course. Would you like to tell me why you do no’ want to order for yourself?”

“I want to get to Romania alive. So I think it’s best that Cat Face not know which food is mine.”

I pulled back to see her face and chuckled. “Cat Face, eh? I can get her fired if you want.”

Elora cocked her head. “Really?” I nodded. “No. I don’t want to get her fired, but she won’t be getting a tip from me.”

My laughter got a smile out of her and a scowl from Storm sittin’ across the aisle from us.

When the food arrived, she took the deli sandwich and left to go sit next to Kay. That was no’ part of my plan, but at least Kay was no’ a rival. I knew this because he made no secret that he was committed to his girl. Body, heart, and soul. Maybe Berserkers were monogamous like elves. I’d never asked. We usually practiced the don’t-ask rule in B Team, accordin’ to the philosophy that if a bloke has something to share, he will do so unprompted.

CHAPTER 14

Kay

Elora made her way to the back of the plane and sat down in the recliner next to me. The smell of her food made me queasy. So I gripped the whiskey glass a little tighter and tried to let the conversation be a distraction. I wasn’t sure why she wanted to talk to me, but I reasoned that I would know in her own good time.

She asked all sorts of questions about my background and I found that talking about Katrina did distract me from thinking about flying.

Finally, after an hour of meandering, we got to the point.

“Do you know why he wants to talk to me?” she asked.

I shook my head. Honestly, I didn’t know and suspected that no one knew for sure. “Want my best guess?”

“Sure.”

“He saw you and was gripped by the bewitchment thing you’ve got going on.”

She gave me a look that could best be described as innocent confusion. Unless my instincts were deceiving me, I had to give her credit. At least she wasn’t deliberately turning my team inside out.

“You know. That thing.” I moved my head in the direction of Storm, then Ram, one at a time.

I watched her carefully. It took a couple of seconds before she caught up with the implication. When realization hit her features, which seemed to hide nothin’, a full-on blush changed her face to the same shade of pink as her weird, but gorgeous hair. I shouldn’t have laughed, but just couldn’t help myself.

She stood up, making it pretty clear that she took offense to my bringing up the pickle brewing. Or maybe it was my laughing at her. Either way, she had nothin’ more to say. Just took a pillow and a blanket out of an overhead compartment and left.

I felt a little bit bad about it. I mean Elora was nice enough and she’d taken the time to try to get to know me better. A nicety that, I admit, had not been returned.

But I didn’t like what was going on between Rammel and my partner. I’d have had to be blind to not see that no good was going to come from teammates setting their cap for the same woman. Hand of Odin! It was a mess in the making.

CHAPTER 15

Ram

‘Twas light when we arrived in Bucharest. As light as ‘twas goin’ to be, that is. The day was overcast, rainy, with poor visibility. Felt just like home in Ireland. Within minutes we knew the day had got more complicated when we learned that whisters were grounded.

Storm paced the tarmac talkin’ to Operations on the phone, lookin’ pissed. He looked pissed a lot these days. Unless he was talkin’ to Elora.

He snapped the phone shut and stomped towards us.

“We’re going to Brasov on the train and picking up cars there.” Right on cue a van pulled up and stopped next to where we were standin’ with our overnight bags.

Elora grabbed her bag out of the driver’s hands. “Just a minute,” she said, just before she started tearin’ through her rollin’ carry on to pull out a cowl neck sweater and a hoodie.

“Cold?” I asked.

She looked at me strangely as she was pullin’ the sweater over her head. “You’re not?”

I shrugged, rememberin’ what a proper New Forest winter felt like.

At least we got inside the van before it started rainin’.

As we drove through the narrow streets of the old part of the city, Elora was lookin’ out the window like she’d never traveled before. Oddly enough, her intense interest made me look at the scenery through new eyes, wonderin’ what it would seem like if ‘twas my first time in Bucharest.

The driver got us as close to the station as he could, but we were still goin’ to get wet. Elora took the hoodie and draped it over her head for cover and I could have kicked myself for no’ makin’ sure she had an umbrella. Some great caretaker protector I was provin’ to be.

Silently thankin’ Farnsworth for small favors, I was glad we had a first class compartment. Elora entered first and took a window seat. Just as I was about to throw down with Storm over who would be sittin’ next to the lady on the train, Kay practically threw both of us out of the way and took the prize seat for himself. ‘Twas out of character behavior for Kay, but I just took it as a side effect of hatin’ to fly as much as he did.

I stepped in after Kay and did, at least, manage to get the seat across from my girl. She snuggled under the hoodie like it was a blanket, even though I knew it had to be damp from the rain.

While she stared at the passin’ scenery, I stared at her, memorizin’ every tiny nuance of her expressions. At length she realized I was lookin’ at her while she was lookin’ at Romania. She raked her eyes over me, turnin’ the tables, but I did no’ mind a bit. On the contrary, I wanted her to look her fill and feel comfortable doin’ it. I knew I was attractive. Sooner or later she’d figure that out.

I was so relaxed, enjoyin’ lookin’ at my mate that I was half asleep. My third finger had found its way into a hole in the upholstered armrest. I was pushin’ in and pullin’ out with a rhythm some might say matched slow and deliberate copulation. I could no’ suppress a little smile, knowin’ that I was bein’ suggestive. I am an elf, you know.

I waited for her temper to spark, as it often did when I was bein’ vulgar. But she surprised me by quietly matchin’ the cadence of the pumpin’ of my finger with a mime of scissors cutting.

I laughed silently, feelin’ my abs contract, the pale shadow of pain lettin’ me know my rib still did no’ care so much for laughin’.

There was something in her reaction that I will never forget. She was smilin’ with a new gleam of interest I had no’ seen before. ‘Twas no’ a look of lust or affection or even the satisfaction of havin’ scored points on me. I would have to say ‘twas most like appreciation. At that point, I was hungry for scraps of indication that she was movin’ toward seein’ me as someone she wanted around.

As for myself, she was so much more than I’d ever expected. Made me think I must have done something right in this life.

When we got to Brasov, Storm grabbed Elora’s elbow and steered her to the first car before I’d even got off the train. He put her in the back seat, which left me ridin’ with Kay and the driver of the other car. I’d never realized what a sneaky bastard Storm could be.

CHAPTER 16

Storm

I didn’t know what game Rammel was playing. He could get any female he wanted. And had. The fact that he was going after the one girl I’d ever been serious about, well, it was seriously pissing me off. If it wasn’t for the fact that she seemed to like having him around, I would have throttled his little elf ass and thrown him off the back of the train.

They thought they were sly with their little pantomime games, but come on. I was sitting right there. I needed to get his highness alone and have a mano y mano talk.

“Are we eating?” she asked from the back seat.

I looked at my watch, realized I hadn’t changed the time since we landed, and tried to look back at her, but it was too cramped. Gods damn little European cars.

I looked at the driver instead. “We need to find a place for lunch before we leave town. Someplace with decent food, but we don’t have all day.”

“Hotel Bella Muzica,” he said.

I nodded, suppressing the compulsion to say, “Whatever,” which told me I was just cranky in general.

The place wasn’t busy because it was in between meals. “Whatever’s quick,” I told the waiter.

They brought us some kind of stew that I barely tasted because I was in a hurry. I hated rushing Elora, but we needed to get to the blasted Drac Unit before dark.

While the others were finishing, I went down the block to a market and bought the closest thing they had to snacks. Water. Bread. And chocolate for Elora.

When I came back, Ram and Kay were on the sidewalk.

“Where is she?” I said.

“Ladies,” answered Kay.

I finally got everybody back in the cars for the hard leg of the trip. It was painfully slow because of steep mountain roads with sheer drop-offs, but we made it just as the light failed altogether.

I was pulling luggage from the car when I heard Elora speaking French to the overseers and I had to wonder what all else I didn’t know about her.

We knew we were going to be expected to dress for dinner and, let me tell you, it’s not that easy to work a tux into overnight luggage. But Black Swan knights don’t say no when Sol Nemamiah tells us what to pack.

CHAPTER 17

Ram

I stepped into the room I’d been assigned for the night and started to close the door behind me, but ‘twas forced out of my hand.

“What the..?” I turned ‘round to see that Kay had followed me in and was closin’ the door behind us both.

“Don’t think I don’t see what’s going on, Rammel.” My eyes traveled to the closed door and back to Kay, waitin’ for him to say what was on his mind. “I’m not choosing sides - because I love you both like the brothers I never had - but Stormy’s gonna have other chances to find love. Am I right in understanding that you get just one? Am I right that you’re sure she’s the one?”

I did no’ know whether to be more shocked that Kay had guessed my predicament or that he was spoutin’ so many words at once, particularly in the form of an unsolicited opinion. He had my attention and I definitely wanted to see where he was goin’ with this line of questionin’.

“Guess there’s more goin’ on in that big head of yours than I give you credit for.”

“Whatever. Back to the point. Just how does it work, her being human and all?”

Well, there was the rub. I could be no less than honest. “Bugger if I know.”

“But it has happened before?”

“Aye. But ‘tis rare.”

“Well, that aside. You don’t have a fighting chance.” Kay leaned his back against the door and crossed his arms over his abs like he had no plans to be leavin’ anytime soon.

“Thanks for the very fine vote of confidence.”

“You want to hear me out or not?”

“Go on.”

“First, there’s a matter I’m afraid you’re not factoring in. She thinks she owes Storm her life. And she should think that because…well, she does. If it had been up to you and me, she’d probably be dead.”

Crap for breakfast. That was an ugly memory I did no’ want to have to confront. Again. But that did no’ diminish the truth of it. ‘Twas perhaps my worst moment and I deserved to have to live with it.

I sat down on the side of the bed and ran my hand through my hair. “Aye. ‘Tis true.”

“Did you see the record of her hearing?”

“Aye.”

“Then you know she has an over-developed sense of honor. For a woman. Women are usually about practicality - which is probably why the species has survived, but Elora’s different. This isn’t going to be about who’s cutest. And I’m not saying I would know, by the way, so don’t ask. If she thinks she owes it to Storm to be with him, she may feel like there’s no other choice.”

As that began to sink in, my stomach started to feel like lead. I had no’ realized there was more at play than attraction. Or that losin’ her was any kind of actual possibility. I mean, would Fate really pair me with someone who was no’ destined to be mine?

So much for havin’ done something right.

“Is there some advice buried somewhere in this breakin’ news?”

Kay stood up straight and took a couple of steps toward me. “I’m glad you asked. I saw the little episode on the train.” I made my face go deliberately blank. “The finger in the upholstery?” Okay. If he was goin’ to name it out loud, I had to grin just thinkin’ back on it. “Okay. See? There’s the problem right there. Elora’s not going to choose a guy with porn mud flaps.”

I could no’ have been more confused if he’d said Elora wouldn’t smoke fairy farts. “Porn mud flaps?”

“Truck flaps with nudie silhouettes in a come-and-get-it pose? You’ve never seen that? Never mind. The point is she isn’t going to be won over by displays of vulgarity.”

“Vulgarity.” I repeated the word. My mouth was open gettin’ ready to protest. That was no’ how she saw me. We had fun together. Did we no’? But before I could defend myself, he went on.

“Yes. Vulgarity. And we both know you were raised better.” Mention of my upbringin’ was out of bounds and my teammates knew that. I considered punchin’ him and would have if I had no’ had the feelin’ I needed to hear what else he had to say. ”Knock knock in there. Anybody home? She. Is. Human. She’s not just going to wake up one morning and recognize you as her mate. You need to get yourself off autopilot and get your head in the game, or by Yuletide there may be some beautiful framed photos of you and me as best men at their wedding. Have you seen the way he looks at her? They may very well get to the altar before Trina and me.”

A vision of my Elora wearin’ one of those frothy white dresses, lookin’ up at Storm with adoration in her eyes had me on my feet and ready to take on all comers.

“That’s no’ funny, Kay!” But as I said it, I was replayin’ things she’d said to me. ‘That’s disgusting, Ram.’ “You’re in desperate need of finishing school.’ ‘ Blackie has better manners.’

Great Paddy’s prick on a stick. Kay was simply confirmin’ what she’d been sayin’ all along. Only I had no’ been listenin’.

“No shit? Even if you get her to want you, how are you going to motivate her to choose you over her sense of duty and obligation?”

I had no idea how to begin to answer that. I turned it over in my head a few times before sayin’, “Do you know?”

Kay’s expression softened a little, as did his tone. “You’ve got to start thinking like a human.” What? “Love.” Kay said, as if ‘twas a whole sentence.

“What about it?”

“You need to find out what romance looks like and sounds like to Elora. What are her fantasies? Does she believe in true love? You’d best stop sitting on your hands and be finding out if she believes in forever.”

How ironic that Kay would use that expression when “sitting on my hands” was exactly what I did sometimes to keep them to myself. I had the thought that it might be a sign, but dismissed it as coincidence. Just because I’m Irish does no’ mean I buy into every woo-woo bullshit superstition.

No’ exactly.

I was resistin’ the urge to direct my anger at Kay, but I was feelin’ anxious of a sudden and felt like I needed to be alone to think it through. I mean, what the fuck do I know about human romance?

“Great Paddy, Kay, what the fuck do I know about human romance?” I ran my hand through my hair in frustration. Again. “When elves recognize mates, we basically walk up and say, ‘Tis you and me. Let’s go.’ The whole thing is playful. No’...” I waved my hands around lookin’ for the right word. “..so bloody serious.”

“But you do love her.”

“Of course I love her. I love everything about her and do no’ even have a choice in the matter. I mean, no' that I would change it. Fuck! I can’t think straight.” Suddenly it occurred to me that I was takin’ advice from somebody who knew nothin’ about the subject matter. “But what would you be knowin’ about it anyway? You’ve been with the same girl since you were suckin’ pacifier.”

“That’s true. Just saying that, if I were you, with so much at stake, I believe I’d find a way to figure it out. Look. It all comes down to this. How bad do you want her?”

I was no’ enough of a poet to describe how badly I wanted her. There’s simply nothin’ I would no’ do to make her mine. I’d go on quest. Fight dragons… That’s when it hit me.

“She does believe in forever. All those stories she likes so much end with her sayin’ ‘and they lived happily ever after’.”

Kay smiled. “Well, there you go.” The big guy dropped his arms and left the room without another word, leavin’ me sittin’ on the bed in a room as old and drafty as the ruin where I grew up. I looked ‘round.

Okay. So the place where I grew up was no’ exactly a ruin, but the converted fortress felt crumbly even to me. I wondered what she was doin’, if she’d like to have company. So I walked across the hall and knocked softly on her door. I did no’ get an answer so I supposed she was either sleepin’ or bathing. I smiled imaginin’ the first and got hard imaginin’ the second.

I was downstairs sharin’ a before-dinner drink with Storm and Kay when Elora entered the room lookin’ like a million bucks. It did no’ escape my notice that every eye turned to watch her cross the room to where we stood near the fireplace.

By the look of her rosy complexion, I saw my second guess was right. She’d had a hot bath that lifted her color. ‘Twas a nice compliment to her hair.

Madame Relacque said something to her about buildin’ a too-early fire specifically to keep her warm.

“Thank you.” Elora smiled graciously. “Between that and some red wine, I believe I’ll be toasty.”

Madame Relacque looked confused. “Of course, you can offer a toast if you wish, my dear.”

I coughed into my hand to suppress my chuckle. Elora exchanged a look with me and managed better than I to keep a straight face.

“No. I don’t want to toast. I meant that I will be warmed by the fire and the wine.”

“Of course,” said our hostess as she handed Elora a glass of Dragasani poured by our host, who’d overheard the entire conversation. “This was vented by a Transylvanian winery, Nachbil. See if it’s to your liking.”

Elora breathed in the aroma, judgin’ from the rise of her chest and the smile on her lips, and took a sip. “Wonderful,” she said, and our hosts beamed.

You know I care no’ at all for manners and think that, for the most part, ‘tis a batch of silly customs invented to preoccupy prissy poseurs. But in spite of myself, her lovely manner and her lovely manners made me proud that she was mine. Mine whether she knew it yet or no’.

I knew I had a split second to act before Storm managed to rush in between us and spoil the moment. So I stepped toward her. “Would you care to sit here by the fire?” I asked, as I pulled out a chair near the end. She acted like she had no idea about traditions like pullin’ out chairs for ladies.

I froze, thinkin’, for Paddy’s sake, the woman believes I’m a lunker. ‘Tis fine to hold manners in disdain when your future does no’ depend on such things, but clearly Elora held some esteem for convention, which meant I needed to reevaluate its importance. Such a woman does no’ want a boor for a mate.

I was thinkin’ maybe ‘twas time to grow up and try to be worthy of such a prize.

Elora chatted up one of the locals durin’ dinner, but by the time dessert came, I could see that she was tired and tryin’ to hide yawns.

Storm turned to the facility sovereign, which in that case was either of two people. The sovereignship of Drac Unit was shared by the Relacques, the married couple who were our hosts. It was a unique arrangement, but seemed to work. Since he was sittin’ closest to Monsieur Relacque, Storm directed the question to him.

“What are the plans for tomorrow?”

Monsieur Relacque let his eyes drift over those of us who were interested parties, meanin’ those of us who were directly involved, as he said, “We’re prepared for the interview to take place whenever it’s most convenient for you. We’ll serve breakfast in the morning at nine. So, anytime after that?”

I pushed back my chair and stood. “I’ll walk Ms. Laiken to her room.”

Elora did no’ leave me lookin’ like a fool. Takin’ my lead she said, “Yes. It’s been a long day and I want to be at my best tomorrow.” To the Relacques, she said, “Thank you for the lovely dinner. It seemed like an occasion. You made a memory I won’t forget.”

Aye, indeed. I knew that my mum was goin’ to cherish this girl.

Storm looked confused and perplexed. Elora gave me a grateful glance as I pulled out her chair, but the gratitude was no’ for the gesture. ‘Twas because she was fallin’ over sleepy and needed a gracious escape.

She was silent as we climbed the staircase and walked down the hall toward our rooms. When we reached her door, she turned toward me. When her lips parted to say something charmin’ like, “Thank you for walking me back, Ram.”

I pulled the side of her body flush with the front of mine and nuzzled her ear, askin’, “Would you like me to tuck you in?”

She released a tiny giggle and said, “Um. No?”

“You do no’ sound sure.”

I was suspectin’ she had enjoyed the warmth of the red wine more than usual. That was confirmed when she made a mock serious face before sayin’, “No,” in a low voice and burstin’ into a series of giggles.

“I like it when you imbibe. Unfortunately, you’re countin’ on me to be a gentleman.” Under my breath I said, “And I never thought anyone would be accusin’ me of that!” I pushed her door open and stepped back. “I’ll leave my room unlocked just in case you get cold in the night. ‘Tis that one.” I pointed to the door across the hall.

O’ course she thought ‘twas banter. I assure you it was entirely serious.

CHAPTER 18

Ram

I was sittin’ in the day room with my eye on the door, listenin’ to Storm and Kay chat up two of the knights currently stationed there. Storm had known one of them from school in San Francisco. I spread marmalade on toast, then spooned scrambled eggs on top of that. It was no’ dainty, but ‘twas a heavenly way to start the day. Especially when paired with good coffee.

Elora swept in lookin’ fresh as a daisy in full bloom. The mix of turquoise threads in her sweater made it near impossible to look away from her eyes. Perhaps ‘twas the point. Women are always dabblin’ in bewitchin’ with their fashion schemes. At least she had listened to me about no’ wearin’ red. A woman like Elora in red would be servin’ herself up as a vampire’s catnip.

I watched her take a cranberry juice, hot chocolate, and an orange scone from the sideboard. Storm was dividin’ his attention between watchin’ Elora and listenin’ to what his friend was sayin’.

She sat down in the chair next to me. “Good morning,” she said.

“Mornin’. You want us to ask for some red wine to go with that or did you have enough last night?”

She snorted softly. “Like you’ve never had too much of anything?”

I grinned. “More is more.”

She broke off a corner of her scone, stared at it for a bit, then put it down on the plate. She took a sip of juice, but just looked at the cocoa like she was no’ sure why she’d got it.

I leaned toward her so no one else would hear me. “Off your chocolate this morn?”

When her eyes slid sideways toward me I knew she was nervous. I sat waitin’, wonderin’ if she’d lie and give me bluff and bluster. But she was no’ that sort. Instead, she nodded and smiled a shy little smile like she was embarrassed to be found out.

I reached for her hand underneath the table where no one could see. She wrapped her fingers around mine and did no’ pull away. “You do no’ have to do this, Elora. I’ll pull the plug before you can say, ‘Baka, go fuck yourself ’.”

Her eyes widened for an instant before she laughed and, just like that, the nerves were managed. “Thanks. I’m good.”

I was proud of her for agreein’ to go through with this, but must tell you that what I really wanted was for her to come to her senses. ‘Twas worth another try. “No one would think less of you if you change your mind. I promise.”

She shook her head. “Let’s do it.”

Exactly what I was afraid she would say. “Have you a stake in each boot?”

“I do.”

“When you’re ready. No' before. ‘Tis all on your terms.”

She turned to the knights who’d been talkin’ to my teammates.

“Are there any rules I should know about?”

“Rules?” They both repeated at almost the same instant and looked at each other.

“Yes,” she said. “Like, time limit for instance?” They looked at each other, their faces blank. ‘Twas obvious no one had given thought to the parameters.

“Well, in that case,” she went on, “I propose twenty minutes. That seems fair to me. If I don’t like the way things are going, I’ll end it then. If I think something productive could be gained by staying longer, I will.”

“If you want to talk about fair,” I said, “one minute is more than fair.”

“Let’s just settle on something solid,” Storm said. “Like no more than twenty minutes no matter what.”

Elora crossed her arms and widened her stance. I recognized that body language as meanin’ that she was no’ goin’ to budge on how she would handle this. “Twenty minutes is a loose guideline. If I think something useful will come from staying longer, I will.”

Storm narrowed his eyes. “Why did you ask about rules if you didn’t have any intention of abiding by them?”

“As it turned out, there weren’t any rules, were there? We’re making this up as we’re going, which means I might as well advocate for my point of view.”

“Twenty minutes. No more. And if I say you’re done, you’re done. We’re pulling you out of that room without further argument.”

She pursed her lips and said nothin’ more, but I knew her well enough at that point to know that did no’ mean acquiescence. No indeed. What it meant was that she was done arguin’. No more. No less. If Storm was stupid enough to think that meant he had her agreement, that was on him.

The four of us rode the small elevator to the top of the tower. Elora’s jasmine scent filled the space and made me a little dizzy. It also made me mad with jealousy knowin’ that Storm and Kay could smell it, too.

The doors opened to a small observation area, clinically minimalist. The far wall was mostly a large glass window that looked directly into Baka’s room. I could hardly call it a cell because ‘twas far too opulent for that.

I did no’ know how secure the glass was, but the doorway was protected by a security vault that would be at home in Fort Knox.

Within a second of steppin’ off the elevator, my eyes had swept the room for equipment, counted two knights and one control panel attendant, and landed squarely on the vampire standin’ at the back of his plush cage. Supposedly he could no’ see through the glass, but for all the world he appeared to be starin’ at Elora. It made my skin crawl and I wanted nothin’ more than to simply grab her and leave the madness behind.

Storm got between Elora and the glass wall so that she had to look at him. “Do not take your eyes off him,” he said. “Do not turn your back or sit down. Do not allow him to get closer than five feet.” His eyes flicked to me. “They’re fast, Elora. Faster than you can imagine. I’m not saying he’s stronger than you. I’m just saying that you have to keep your guard up at all times. He’s very old and very wily.” Her eyes wandered. “Are you paying attention to me?”

She looked at Storm. “Do not take my eyes off him. Do not turn my back or sit down. Do not allow him to be closer than five feet. Got it.”

Storm slumped a little. “I hope to Woden you’re taking this more seriously than appearances would suggest.”

“Serious as a judge.”

Storm dropped his chin. “That’s sober as a judge.”

“Whatever,” she said.

That’s my girl, I thought.

She looked at me as if I’d said that out loud. I nodded just enough for her to see, wantin’ her to know she had my confidence, if no' my approval.

“He’s the most notorious vampire in Black Swan history,” Storm said. “Do not take this lightly.”

“I’m not!” she said. “Let’s get it over with. I’m ready.”

One of the attendants spoke up. “We’ll be able to hear as well as see everything that happens in that room. When you’re ready to leave, all you have to do is raise your voice and say, “Open!” He turned the arm on the control panel microphone toward his mouth and said to Baka, “Step all the way to the back of the room and remain still while your guest is admitted. If you make a move that might be interpreted as aggressive at any time, we will sedate you and extract Ms. Laiken. Do you understand?”

The vampire nodded solemnly, movin’ nothin’ but his head, no’ changin’ expression.

Elora took a step toward the vault door, but turned back suddenly and asked the control panel attendant. “Has he ever attempted escape?”

He looked blank. The others looked from one to another. Storm, Kay and I shook our heads and shrugged at the same time. I did no’ recall havin’ ever heard a story about huntin’ Baka down since his imprisonment a hundred or so years before.

Her voice pulled me from the effort of tryin’ to recall.

“You don’t know?” The panel attendant shook his head. “Please call Madame du Relacques and ask her.”

“Now?” asked the knight who stood over the security panel.

“Yes! Now! I want the answer to that question before I go in there.”

He looked at Storm, Kay and me, revealin’ himself as every inch the sexist asshole he appeared to be.

Elora was fumin’. And I did no’ blame her. After all, she was the one riskin’ her neck to do a favor for Black Swan. I could almost see her thinkin’ about tossin’ the guy out the window into the river gorge below. The image of that gave me a phantom pain in the ribcage. If the fellow knew what was good for him, he’d comply and be quick about it.

Storm nodded and said, “Call her.”

Apparently she answered her own phone. We listened to him converse briefly in French before settlin’ the in-house phone in its cradle and sayin’, “No escape attempts.”

Elora nodded and seemed satisfied with that. “Okay. Let’s do this then.”

Storm, Kay, and I watched as bystanders while the local knights handled operation of the vault and trained weaponry on the vampire. Just before she stepped through, she glanced back at me. I gave her a nod and a wink, even though my stomach was turnin’ somersaults. Lettin’ her walk through that door was by far the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life, goin’ against eons of hard wired instinct to protect my mate. The openin’ was circular, like a science fiction portal to another world and I was scared shitless that I would no’ see her alive again.

The locks sounded loud when they slid back to allow her entry. They sounded even louder, when they slid back into place, lockin’ her in with the leech.

“Lady Laiken,” Baka said, with just a hint of a smile and a smaller inclination of his head. “I won’t bother to introduce myself because, well, because that would be silly. So I will just say welcome to my humble home.” He gestured at the relatively small room that had been his world for the past century.

“Thank you,” she said politely. “Had breakfast?”

Baka grinned, which was surprisin’, at least to me. I had no’ expected a vampire, even an old one, to be in sufficient command of his faculties to grasp sarcasm. “Would it make you more comfortable if I sit?”

“Somehow I don’t think the word ‘comfortable’ works for this situation. But, yes, I would like it if you sit.”

He moved toward the fire with an exaggerated slowness.

“Join me.” He pointed to the stuffed chair facin’ the one he’d just taken. “Would you like something to drink? Wine?”

She glanced around the room, which meant she’d broken rule number one and taken her eyes off the bugger. “Sparkling cider,” she said.

I leaned back to catch Storm’s eye and mouthed, "Sparklin’ cider?" I’d never heard her make mention of sparklin’ cider before. I was no’ complainin’ as I would have been if she’d accepted his offer of wine. We should have made that rule number one. No alcoholic beverages. Or doobies. No’ that the staff might pass doobies through the little doggie door.

Storm just shrugged to let me know she’d never mentioned sparklin’ cider to him either.

“Sir Ansel,” Baka said to the glass, “a sparkling cider for my guest, if you please.”

Great Paddy, the monster maintained an air of old-world formality that made him seem like a cartoon vampire.

“Who’s your decorator?” Baka indicated himself with a self-effacin’ cluster of posturin’. “Hmmm,” she said.

“Is that ‘hmmm’ you like it or ‘hmmm’ you don’t?”

“Very. Nice.” Her tone was non-committal even if the words were complimentary.

After repeatedly breakin’ rule number one, gettin’ a good look around at his collections, she said, “You’re a musician?”

“Yes.”

“And you play all these instruments.”

“Yes.”

She nodded. “And paint?”

“Yes.”

“And you write vampire romances. Fiction I presume?”

He grinned. “Have you read one of my books?”

“I’ve read all of them, Valerie.”

He raised an eyebrow and smiled in a way that I thought might look seductive to a woman. “And was that research or did you enjoy my work?”

She raised her chin. “Loved it. Can’t wait for the next installment in the series. What will it be? Love Bleeds?”

“Mocking me?” He was clearly amused, which made me even more nervous. “I’m crushed.”

“A sensitive vampire? That has to be an oxymoron.

“Actually, regarding your books, I did notice that there was a lot written about the joys of giving blood to irresistibly sexy, good-looking vampire, but nothing about mercilessly ripping out throats and leaving unrecognizable corpses behind.”

He shrugged. “I write romances. I don’t like horror.”

“That’s very funny, Baka. You’re a lover, not a fiend. Are you gay?”

Wait! What!?!

Baka was apparently as startled by the question as I was, but he recovered fast and laughed. Long and loud, makin’ me wonder what a bloodsucker locked up for a century has to laugh about. Or maybe he was just that delighted to spend time with the most desirable creature imaginable.

When his laughter subsided, he asked, “Why would you think that?”

“Well, let me see. You’re into the arts. All the arts. You wear silk. You write romance novels. You have long hair. You’re over thirty with a flat stomach. And you have lots of pillows on your bed.”

“I guess six hundred years is enough time to get in touch with one’s feminine side. I am not motivated to impress others with an unrealistic, arbitrary, or fashionable ideal of masculinity; a superimposed caricature of a man.”

When the sparklin’ cider was placed in the panel cabinet, the vampire rose and slowly crossed the room. I was relieved to see that Elora regained her wariness and stepped back.

Baka set the crystal stem on the table next to the other chair and poked at the fire. I wondered if she was thinkin’ the same thing I was regardin’ the absurdity of allowin’ a dangerous prisoner to have possession of an iron fire poker.

When he took his seat again, he said, “Regarding my flat stomach, six hundred years ago people such as myself didn’t have access to sugar, beer, fried food, or fructose corn syrup. Thank you for noticing, by the way.”

“Are these two chairs a permanent part of your furnishings?”

“Yes.”

“Do you often have company?”

“Never.” She raised her eyebrows as if waitin’ for further explanation and he did no’ disappoint her. “Even vampire have hopes and dreams. Mine are simple. I dream of having someone to talk to.”

Great Paddy, I hope she did no’ fall for that.

No. It was worse. She crossed the room and sat down in the chair across from him, breakin’ every single rule we’d come up with and more. The sight of my mate in such a vulnerable position as sittin’ down four feet away from him? I guess I went a little crazy, but you have to agree that ‘twas entirely justifiable. I mean, like every vampire hunter, I’m no stranger to feelin’s of fear, but the fright I felt seein’ Elora so close to the old leech was on a whole new level.

Apparently I tried to open the vault without knowledge of how it worked and screamed at everybody in the room to get her out. I can no’ say what happened after that. They tell me I was hyperventilatin’, which was why I found myself sittin’ on a counter with a paper bag over my mouth and nose.

When she was safely back on the right side of the vault, I was relieved enough that I could cry, but I was also so mad at her I could spit fire. So mad I could no’ even look at her.

“What’s the matter with him?” Elora asked my teammates.

“He’s scared to death! That’s what’s the matter! Every one of us could just…” Storm clenched and unclenched his hands in the air pantomimin’ a right proper stranglin’.

With a suddenness I was no’ expectin’, he turned on me, pointin’ toward my chest. “For every time I have ever called you reckless or psycho or accused you of having a death wish, I take it all back. She makes you look downright timid.”

I could no’ believe I was takin’ up for her in any way, but I heard myself say, “Lay off. ‘Tis done.”

“Are you okay?” She looked at me. I just went back to breathing through the paper bag and let my eyes do the talkin’. “Wow. It looks like there was some serious drama on this side of the mirror.”

“Oh! Sweet. Do you care about us at all?”

Elora’s mouth fell open. “What do you mean? Of course.”

“Ms. Laiken,” Kay began, “emotions were running a little high because of fear. For you. And from this side of the glass, it seemed like you were sort of asking for it.”

“It? Asking for it as in getting bit?”

Kay nodded.

Elora looked around the room. "So it's Ms. Laiken now is it?" When she saw that every single one of us were mad as hornets, she said,” “Okay. I’m sorry if I gave you cause for concern. But I was the one in the situation and I had to follow my own instincts.”

“Cause for concern?” Storm was no’ the sort to indulge in fits of temper and, I must say, it looked a little off kilter on him. He turned toward the wall and yelled out loud before resumin’ the upbraidin’. “Inoculations can’t save you if your jugular is sliced in two.” He had a good point there. He held his hand in front of her face, thumb and first finger twitchin’ together. “And you were this close. Even you wouldn’t recover from that.”

The woman had the nerve to look like she was gettin’ angry in response. “That’s just it, Storm. I wasn’t in any danger. I’m sorry you were needlessly worried, but you’re going to have to learn to trust me.” He hissed out his aggravation then dropped his hands to his sides as if to say he was givin’ up. “What if I had told you I was going to rehabilitate Blackie? We both know you would have forbidden me to go near him. Blackie would have been sentenced to live out his life being tormented by that sadist.”

“Please tell me you are no’ comparing that thing,” he pointed to the creature behind the glass, "to an abused dog! If you’re saying you have plans to domesticate Istvan Baka, then you need to double down on your therapy sessions.”

Elora pulled back like she’d been slapped and, as irate as I was, my protective instincts proved stronger. I jumped down from the counter, got in front of Storm and said, “That’s enough!” I held his gaze long enough for him to know I was no’ jokin’ around. I looked down at the paper bag in my hand then threw it down. Great Paddy. Hyperventilatin’? What would be next?

A nice long descent down an ancient spiral staircase might be just what I was needin’ to help clear my head. I let the door slam shut behind me and tried to keep my mind on countin’ steps, tellin’ myself over and over that the thing that was important was that she was no’ just alive, but unscathed.

As much as I tried to convince myself that ‘twas over, I was chilled to the marrow seein’ that my mate had such little regard for her own safety. I believe ‘twas at that point that a deep abidin’ fear settled into my solar plexus, that she could no’ be trusted to keep herself safe. And I knew, without needin’ to be told, that death or separation from her would result in my own demise.

Half an hour later I answered a knock at my door. ‘Twas Kay.

“Get your stuff. Got a break in weather. Whister’s waiting for us.”

I was the last one on board. I guessed Storm must still be royally pissed because Elora was in back by herself and he was sittin’ next to the pilot. I hoped he was stupid enough to hold onto his pout forever.

My heart melted when I saw her look up to see what I’d do, her face a mask of honest vulnerability. I moved to the back, reached out and shoved a wisp of her whister-blown hair back into place, and slid into the seat next to her. She might as well find out now that nothin’ she might do would ever make me want to sit anywhere but by her side. I did no’ miss the look of gratitude though. And right after we took off, she leaned over and said, “I’m sorry.” I managed a little smile in acknowledgement. Then she said, “Do you have a history of hyperventilation?”

Great. Paddy. “Certainly no’.”

“No offense intended. I just wondered if it was an unusual reaction for you.”

I twisted my body so I could face her and was about to tell her that I’m no’ usually so, um, excitable, but when her tongue peeked out to wet her lips I got lost in lookin’ at her mouth and longin’ to be bathed in kisses. I thought about kissin’ her. O’ course that was my inclination, but I did no’ want her to accept me from gratitude. As if she was followin’ my line of thinkin’, she said, “Do you think there will be a debriefing?”

I managed to shift my attention upward to her eyes. Seemed she wanted to lighten the moment. That was okay with me. I would play along. So I said, “Would like that, but I’m no’ wearin' briefs. I wear boxers,” I leaned in close, “as you know.”

She treated me to a laugh, which made Storm turn around and glare at both of us for a couple of seconds.

We were in Bucharest in minutes. It seemed so strange that a trip that had taken hours in a car on narrow windin’ roads was reduced to so little time.

I saw Kay havin’ a little talk with the hangar manager. When he walked over to us he said, “We’re makin’ a stop in Edinburgh to pick up folks headed for the Americas.”

A couple of people I did no’ recognize were already on board waitin’ for us. Elora sat down on one of the bench seats next to one of them and was sayin’ hello while I was left settlin’ myself across the aisle. At least I could keep an eye on her.

Storm went all the way to the recliners in the back. Good.

I got Benson, the flight attendant, to bring me a laptop. I needed to do some research on romance. It was also a sneaky way to watch what was goin’ on between Elora and the bloke chattin’ her up without starin’. Blatantly. I could glance over the top of the screen now and again with no one bein’ the wiser.

After snacks, I watched Elora rise and walk to the rear. She’d had what was apparently a heart to heart resolution with Storm and had decided to stay in the back for a nap. I watched her drag a pillow and blanket out of the overhead compartment, recline the seat to sleeper position, turn her body toward the window and pull down the screen.

I did no’ want to resent Storm. Paddy. He was as close to me as a family member. No. That’s no’ true. In many ways he was closer because of our shared near-death experiences and the times we’d saved each other from bein’ vampirekabobs. I could never bring myself to hate Storm no matter what, but he was gettin’ on my nerves like a twinge that would no’ stop. I could no’ cause a shift of his attention toward Elora. The only way that was goin’ to happen was for Elora to tell him that she’d chosen me.

So I turned my attention back to the search for romance. One thing was clear. I needed to drastically step up my game.

The first search result was Masspedia. It said, “make plans for romance with romantic ideas for date nights, anniversaries, romantic travel, and romantic getaways”. Seemed like a good place to start. At least they made liberal use of the word ‘romantic’.

I catalogued each one of those suggestions in my head and started through the other results, noticin’ a lot of musical references. I realized that a lot of the ‘romantic’ music sounded like music Elora would like, music with sweet lyrics and relaxed melodies. It hit me that I had made fun of this music and said only borin’ people would find it worthwhile.

I really was makin’ a mess of my own courtship. I’d as much as told her that romance is for losers. Great Paddy, dunk me and hang me out to dry.

CHAPTER 19

Ram

We watched the playback of Elora’s “audience” with Baka in the conference room adjacent to Sol’s offices. ‘Twas difficult to watch, but curiously I was able to see things I had no’ seen when I was terrified for Elora’s life. Baka’s fascination with Elora clearly went beyond hittin’ on her, although I could no’ say if he was interested in blood, sex, or both. Baka was lookin’ at her like she was the end game. And I did no’ like it.

I had the stray thought that Sol might no’ have considered what would happen if a vampire ingested Elora’s blood. He might absorb some of her density and, therefore, enhanced abilities. And then where would we be? Paddy.

I heard Sol talkin’ and realized the playback had ended.

“…fulfilled your part of the bargain. You are, therefore, free to come and go on probationary status, but you are bound by your vows of secrecy same as any other Black Swan employee.”

“I understand.” She smiled, clearly delighted at the prospect of bein’ out on her own. At the same time, the idea of that made me shudder.

“We should go into the city for a celebration dinner,” Storm said, smilin’ at Elora. I wanted to punch him in the mouth and watch it swell up so that his smile would look as ridiculous to Elora as it did to me.

“The rest of this meeting concerns plans going forward so you are free to leave, Ms. Laiken.”

“I’ll stay,” she said simply, as if she could no’ take the hint. I could no’ help but smile because I knew she was adept at nuance.

Sol looked surprised. His brow creased slightly with displeasure, but he decided to allow it. “Very well. He’ll be arriving tomorrow to coordinate strategy.” Sol pointed a remote at the screen and a map of a section of Manhattan came up. I recognized it because ‘twas a frequent focus for patrol. “Monq’s team has concluded that the abductions seem to be clustering in this area.” He pointed the pin light to the corner of 39th and Broadway. “It’s a club called Notte Fuoco.”

A street view photo of the club came up.

“It’s all the rage,” he said flatly with dispassionate distaste. “A restaurant and two floors of depravity.”

I suppressed a snort at Sol’s puritanism. I doubted he was personally acquainted with what the word ‘depraved’ truly meant, but he’d been a young knight once. If he’d written an autobiography, I had no’ read it. So who was I to judge?

“The restaurant is on street level.” Street view was replaced with an interior shot taken when no one was there. “The second story is deejay dance.” That photo revealed a crowded, dimly lit room with dancers in bird-cage contraptions suspended from the ceilin’ and wave lightin’, oscillatin’ from purple to red to white to blue.

Elora leaned over and whispered. “Somebody should have told them that nobody looks good in colored lights.”

I snickered quietly, but no’ so quietly that Sol did no’ hear it.

“Something funny about this, Hawking?”

“No’ at all, Sovereign. Something caught in my throat.”

He gave me a sour look, but that was hardly something new.

“Then there’s the basement space they call The Underground,” he continued with a photo of tables, dance floor, and stage. “Live music with themed nights. Folk music. Street music. Acoustic. Fifties. Eighties. Its popularity has surprised a lot of people who bet against its success. Or so I’m told.

“This is where Baka comes in. I gather he’s been using his time alone to pursue various interests including musical skills. His experience with stringed instruments can be tapped for this effort. The former house bass player was delighted to accept an all-expenses paid vacation until further notice so that Baka can take his place.”

I glanced at Kay. His ears were turnin’ red. No’ a good sign. Believe me.

Storm got to his feet as if he couldn’t keep himself sittin’ in the chair.

“You are not seriously considering loosing that wily old vampire on New York City!” Storm more or less spoke for all of us.

Challengin’ the sovereign was no’ unheard of, but ‘twas something saved for, shall we say, special occasions.

“No. We’re not considering it.” Sol nodded at the chair. “Have a seat,” he said evenly. When Storm was reseated, Sol said, “It’s not under consideration. This is what we’re doing.”

“Son of a…” Storm began.

“Stop right there, Sir Storm. I’ll thank you to remember where you are and to whom you are speaking.”

Storm pressed his lips together, but remained silent, looking around the room like he wanted to bolt. Or hit something.

“For the record,” Kay said. “I agree with my partner.”

“Make that three,” I said.

“So. Noted,” Sol said. “Istvan Baka will be free while performing the duties outlined in his contract. That is, of course, conditional on his strict adherence to the synthetic blood diet he’s been on since his incarceration and reporting to me once a day. When he’s recalled, he will give himself up. If he doesn’t, B Team will run him down and either capture or kill him.”

Kay raised his hands and then dropped them in a gesture meanin’, ‘I give up.’

Sol ignored Kay. “Regarding the celebration dinner you proposed, Sir Storm, if you’re going, you might as well make it a working evening. Take Kay and Ram with you and scout Notte Fuoco.”

Storm’s face fell in an almost comic way, but I’m proud to say that I managed to suppress an outright laugh.

Sol said, “That is all.” And left. Simple and to the point. I have to give him that.

When just the four of us remained in the room, Elora revealed her excitement. “When can we go? Tonight? Let’s go tonight!”

Kay shook his head. “Clubs are usually closed on Mondays.”

“Tomorrow?” she asked hopefully. The three of us looked at each other and shrugged which meant that none of us objected. I could tell Elora wanted to jump up and down. “What time?”

“Leave at eight?” I said.

“Yes! What should I wear?” she asked, then hurriedly added. “Never mind. I’ll ask Elsbeth.”

I knocked at exactly eight. After waitin’ for a bit, I knocked again. When she did no’ answer, I was thinkin’ about pullin’ out my phone to call, but then the door opened. I sucked in a breath. The everyday Elora was enough to knock me on my ass. The glamorous Elora robbed me of breath in my lungs and thoughts in my head.

After a few seconds I was clearheaded enough to speak and tried to make light of havin’ been temporarily paralyzed. “Excuse me. I’m lookin’ for Elora Laiken?”

Her shoulders slumped like she was disappointed. “Okay, so I’m out of my element. Elsbeth did a club night make-over. It’s all wrong, isn’t it?”

My eyes wandered down to where the ends of her curls fell between her breasts. Before my brain could get control of my hand, I had reached out and taken a lock of silky hair between my fingers. If I did no’ have elf ears, I might no’ have heard the little catch in her breath that made her lips part slightly and I could no’ help a smile. My eyes jerked up to her mouth and I stepped inches closer, herdin’ her back into her apartment. “Let’s stay in tonight and let me show you just how very no’ wrong you look.”

She put her hands on my chest to stop my forward progress and shut down what could have been a very promisin’ night in. “So. Really. This is okay?”

I leaned against the doorway. “Perfect. Let’s go.”

My teammates were on whister level waitin’ when we arrived. I watched them both do their share of starin’. Storm said nothin’, but Kay said, “Like the come-and-bite-me outfit.”

He smirked at the look of warnin’ I gave him. I did no’ want anything spoilin’ her night out.

Seein’ the skyline comin’ up through Elora’s eyes was, well, eye-openin’. We had made the run so many times that the scenery was commonplace. We might as well have been on the subway goin’ to work. ‘Twas refreshin’ to be reminded that the city had beauty as well as an underbelly known intimately well by vampire hunters.

The walk to Notte Fuoco was pleasant. ‘Twas a balmy night for that time of year. Comfortable enough for lightweight jackets. Elora slowed at displays in windows to satisfy her curiosity. I had to repeatedly clear my throat to remind Storm and Kay that we were no’ workin’, but there for her.

Kay talked to the hostess about a table, then walked over to where we stood. “An hour. She says we’re welcome to stop in at one of the other levels for a look around while we wait.”

We went up to the second level first. B Team was in the habit of lookin’ for vampire when in Manhattan. So we found ourselves doin’ exactly that. I glanced over at Elora and saw that her face was somewhere between pink and red, close to matchin’ her hair. I followed her line of sight and realized she was embarrassed about the gropin’ and grindin’ takin’ place on the dance floor.

I was about to suggest we move on when I saw Storm place his hand on her lower back and urge her toward the elevator. I was goin’ to have to be quicker if I wanted to shut Storm out of the game.

We bypassed street level and went straight to the basement. ‘Twas blues night and the mood could no’ have been more different from where we’d just been. The music was slow, subdued, somebody doin’ a cover of “The Thrill is Gone”.

I did a double take when I realized the bass player was none other than the oldest vampire known to Black Swan. Even behind gray shades, there was no mistakin’ ‘twas him. ‘Twas impossible to tell where he was lookin’ behind the glasses, but he seemed to be lookin’ at Elora.

Paddy.

Kay got us a table. Elora listened to music, while the rest of us looked for clues as to why the disappearances were originatin’ from that spot. Storm pointed to his watch when it was time to eat.

They gave us the corner booth Kay had asked for. We could have got in a lot sooner, but we were willin’ to wait for the spot with the view. Elora might weigh more than the rest of us, but she ate a lot less. Ate less, but enjoyed it more, from all appearances.

Storm was settlin’ up when Kay said, “Two and a vic. Eleven o’clock.”

I grabbed Elora’s forearm and pulled her attention with a look that I hoped was deadly earnest. “Stay here,” I said. “Do. No’. Move. From this table until I come back.”

We followed the trio Kay had identified out the front door, but they had vanished into thin air.

“I’ll go this way,” I said.

“No,” Storm stopped me. “Stay with us. You know the rules. No less than two.”

I wanted to argue, but the reasonable part of me, however small, knew he was right. I could no’ strenuously object to Elora bein’ unnecessarily reckless with our future if I was no better. I nodded and followed behind the two of them, keeping tabs on our backs.

For some reason, which I could no’ explain in a hundred years, we all silently agreed that we needed to go south, away from Times Square. There was no discussion, no argument, no agreement. After so much time as a team, we worked together like a single hunter with six eyes, six legs, six arms. I do no’ know if vampire dream, but if they do, I’m pretty sure we’re their nightmare.

Findin’ nothin’ on the first block we ran a grid pattern back and forth turning to check each alley way as we passed it. Nothin’. Absolutely nothin’. Fifteen minutes later we knew we’d lost them and further lookin’ was pointless. We came to a stop, breathless, but charged up by the emotions of the chase.

“We lost ‘em. Might as well head back and pick up Elora,” Kay suggested.

We should have gone back to the Bistro, collected the beautiful outworlder and been on our way. But she was no’ there. We asked the hostess to check the Ladies’ room. Kay went upstairs to look around while Storm and I tried the Underground. She was no’ there and neither was the band that had been playin’.

They’d been replaced by a guy on a stool with an acoustic guitar. I wish I could say I was so concerned about Elora that I did no’ notice he sounded lame as a wet noodle, but I can no’ lie about music. I imagined she was in the buildin’ somewhere. If I had known where she was and what she was doin’, I would have been out of my ever fuckin’ mind.

My teammates and I had just come together at the street level entrance to confirm that Elora had left the buildin’. Great Paddy. I was just, at that point, beginnin’ to learn that the woman simply would no’ do what she is told.

I was just takin’ my phone out of my pocket when she ran into the bistro lookin’ breathless. And beautiful. I hated that she looked beautiful, because I was no’ pleased with her. Like Kay had said the night we met, New York is crawlin’ with vampire.

I was first to reach her. “What part of stay here and do no’ move did you no’ understand?”

Instead of objectin’ to my tone, which surprised me, given what I knew about her, she grabbed the sleeve of my jacket and pulled me toward the door. “Get them now. Let’s talk outside.”

“How do you expect me to get them when you’re busy pullin’ me out of doors?”

I did no’ wait for an answer, but caught Kay’s eye and motioned toward the door. She pulled the three of us into a little huddle.

“You left with another vampire right behind you. So naturally I followed.”

“NATURALLY?!?” I said. “Elora. There is nothin’ natural about runnin’ down vampire. ‘Tis a highly skilled proposition. If everybody could do it, well, I do no’ exactly know how to finish that sentence…”

“Just let me finish,” she said. “I followed him and killed him before he could become a problem for you.”

I’m fairly certain that I lost the ability to feel my face at that revelation. None of us, meanin’ B Team, said a word in response. We were probably all three too stunned to make our mouths work. She looked between us expectantly, waitin’ for feedback.

Finally, I repeated the news, no’ believin’ it could be part of my reality, but just tryin’ to confirm that I was no’ havin’ a very bad dream. “You went after a vamp with no back up.” ‘Twas no’ a question so much as a test of veracity.

“Well, somebody needed to do it!” Paddy help me. I wanted to throttle my own mate. She must have seen the emotion overtake me because she said, “Do not start hyperventilating!” That only served to drive my fury right off the livid cliff.

At that point, Kay found his voice. “Somebody needed to do it? Elora, that was truly a dumb ass thing to say, but maybe it fits, because I’m starting to think you are one.” The exasperation in his body language and tone of voice almost seemed to match mine. “Why don’t you just take us to the scene?”

Elora nodded and started walkin’ that direction. As we followed she explained exactly how it happened. I glanced at Storm, who seemed to have been struck permanently dumb. Two and a half blocks away from the club, she turned into an alley as she was sayin’, “So I asked to see his fangs and he showed me. Then I gave him wood.”

That’s when we heard Baka laughin’ it up. ‘Twas worse than I’d thought. No’ only did she leave the eatery when I told her to stay, she went after a vampire, and Istvan Baka went after her. Criminently.

“Gave him wood!” It seemed that Baka could no’ stop laughin’. ‘Twas a testament to the phrase ‘need to get out more’. “This just gets better and better. She killed him with a toothpick that she grabbed out of some fellow’s mouth as she ran by. Did you know that?”

B Team, all three of us, turned to look at Elora in unison, temporarily forgettin’ all about Baka.

She looked between us like nothin’ more significant had occurred than a stroll in the park. “What?”

“And did you tell them that Sol is waiting to see all of you in his office as soon as you get back? No matter how late?” Baka continued.

“I hadn’t gotten to that part.” She said it through clenched teeth. “Yet.” Then she gave him the finger.

Storm turned on me lookin’ for all the world like that was my doin’.

“Why be glarin’ at me?” I asked. “She’s the one who gave him the bloody finger!”

“Because. Rammel. Somehow I see yer bluidy influence all over this. I don’t think she even knew what a rude gesture was before she started spending time with you!”

Well, that was almost certainly true, but that was no’ the time to own it.

Baka started laughin’ all over again. “Better and better,” he said in that weird accent. “I haven’t had so much fun in… well… ever.” He patted his shirt pocket. “I need to take notes. I’m putting this in a book.”

Kay decided to intercede before things escalated. More. “Okay. Everybody settle down. Let’s hitch a ride with clean up. We’ll get back faster and sort this out.”

Elora looked properly horrified for the first time. “You mean ride with the, uh, body?”

Go figure. She’d had no problem killin’ the thing, but did no’ want to be near the remains.

“If you can kill it, you can ride with it,” Storm said, echoin’ the sentiment all three of us had no doubt heard in our heads. Then to Baka he added, “You’re relieved.”

“Fine by me,” said the leech, throwin’ a grin over his shoulder at my mate. Great Paddy.

“By the way, you’re all bloody welcome,” Elora said before flouncin’ away a few yards to lean against the brick wall with her arms crossed in front of her and a pout on her mouth. That was fine by me because I needed a break to cool down and I could keep an eye on her while I was doin’ it.

Nothin’ more was said when clean up picked us up. ‘Twas also deadly quiet on the ride back to J.U. When we got on the elevator, Elora pushed the up button.

“Oh no, you don’t,” Storm said. “He wants to see all of us. You, too.”

She rolled her eyes like a teenager, but got in with us.

As promised, Sol was waitin’ up in his office, rollin’ one of those small black cigars between his fingers, and starin’ straight ahead.

“We went…” Storm started, but Sol held up his hand to stop him from sayin’ anything further.

“I want to hear it from the young lady.”

I knew she would bristle at bein’ called ‘young lady’, but I was so out of sorts, I did no’ care. Very much.

She retold the events of the evenin’ from her point of view. It would have sounded perfectly reasonable, I suppose, if she was an experienced vampire hunter.

“Any of the rest of you have anything to add to that?” I glanced at Storm and Kay. None of us said a word. “I’ll let you know if I have further questions. You’re dismissed.”

Really? I thought. That was it?

Storm and Kay got off the elevator at the Hub without a word. They did no’ need to tell me they would be sharin’ a whiskey or two. ‘Twas what I would have been doin’ if I did no’ feel obliged to walk my girl to her door. I do no’ think I’d ever felt so bereft. No’ even when Lan died. I was that sure that she was goin’ to be the end of us.

When we reached her door, I said exactly what I was thinkin’. “Will you be the death of me then?”

She turned to look at me with sympathy, even if she was completely unrepentant. “I didn’t do it to worry you, Ram. I did it because I was worried about you.”

I could no’ stop myself from pressin’ close to her. Knowin’ how close she’d been to two vampire, on her own, ‘twas impossible to deal with the idea. I buried my face in her neck and breathed deep. Night bloomin’ jasmine. Too delicious for words. She was warm and supple and fit me perfectly, head to toe. Just as I had that thought, I felt her tense.

I would never take from her what she was no’ ready to give. So with a little growl of agitation, I pushed myself away and walked on to my own door without lookin’ back.

CHAPTER 20

Ram

By the time I woke the next mornin’, I was in a mood to let the past be in the past. It was easy. We would no’ be puttin’ Elora Laiken in a situation to come in contact with vampire again. Combinin’ work with a celebration outin’ had been a bad idea that would no’ be repeated. Ever.

I’d slept in, had breakfast, and when Elora was still nowhere in sight, I decided to take a peace offerin’. A cocoa peach latte, guaranteed to get me in the door.

“I have news,” I said when she opened a crack.

Eyein’ the cup in my hand, she asked, “Is that a big?”

I smiled. “Would I bring you anything less?”

Blackie pushed his head ‘round Elora’s thigh to say hello and wagged his tail.

She opened the door wider and took the cup from me. “You know he likes you.”

“I like animals. They like me.” I bent down to give the big boy a scruff between the ears, but he flopped over to his back for a tummy rub instead. Well, why would Elora no’ have a demandin’ pet with a mind of his own? I rubbed his tummy and laughed at him, too.

“Well, there’s no accounting for taste.” She sat down at the dining desk. “It better be good news because that’s the only kind I want to hear today.”

“'Tis. Today’s the day I report to the infirmary for clearance. In a couple of hours I should be officially off the D.L. Fit and ready to return to duty.” She scowled, even though she’d just taken a swig of the drink she called nectar of the gods. “What’s wrong? You do no' look happy.”

“I have mixed feelings. After what happened last night, well, it punctuated what you’ve been saying, that those things are fast and strong and that they have big teeth. You lost a partner. The same thing could happen to you or Storm or Kay.”

I could no’ believe she was bringin’ this up, just as I had decided to forgive her and let bygones be bygones. “Elora…” I started, but then I heard what she was sayin’ to me. I mean I heard what was in her heart, beneath the words. “And if that should happen you’d feel alone in this world.”

She moved to the couch and sat down at the end, lookin’ out the slidin’ door, but no’ answerin’. I took that to mean that I was right.

She was always so upbeat, so together, and enthusiastic. I did no’ stop to think about how much pain she was hidin’ behind that. ‘Twas easy to forget that she’d lost everything that she knew when she’d survived passage to my world.

I sat down next to her. “Look at me,” I said. I could tell she did no’ want to and suspected why. “Look at me.” I said it softer.

Turnin’ toward me I watched two tears runnin’ down her cheek. I cupped her jaw with my right hand and used my thumb to wipe them away. “Ah, my darlin’ girl. You truly will be the death of me.”

‘Twas as if I absorbed her sadness into my skin when I came in contact with her tears and I rededicated myself to the proposition of seein’ to her happiness. I could no’ change what had happened in her past, but I could move mountains to insure her future. If that’s what it took.

She pulled away and swiped at her face. “When do you go back to work? Officially?”

I dropped my hand and sat back. “Right away. We’ve been slackin' long enough, makin' it hard on the others.” She nodded, but seemed lost in melancholic thought. I wanted to assure her that I was no’ goin’ to die young. I had too much to live for. I opened my mouth to tell her so, but learned that ‘tis near impossible to lie to a mate. If I was a carpenter or doctor or politician, I might be able to say the words. But a vision of Lan poppin’ into my head told me I was no’ in a line of work that enabled promises of long life.

So I settled on what I could say honestly. “Listen to my words and please hear me. Most knights die of old age, in comfy beds, with great-grandchildren standin’ all ‘round. What happened to Lan will make us all the more careful.”

She searched my face, lookin’ deep into my eyes like she was lookin’ for the truth of it. I let her look and read my feelin’s to the extent she was able. Then I was ready to re-establish equilibrium.

“Your coffee’s cold, but no matter. Come to lunch with me. That French onion soup you like is on the blackboard today. We can take Blackie out for a frisbee afterward if you like.”

I was rewarded with two things, the smile I love most in the world and the company I love most in the world sharin’ lunch with me.

Three hours later, I’d had a decent workout between frisbee with Elora’s dog and a couple of hours on bio level. I’d just finished a shower and was gettin’ dressed when my phone buzzed on the counter.

The text was from Sol. My office. One hour. Acknowledge.

I had to give the devil his due. The man was a master like no other when it came to economy of words, the very antithesis of Irish culture.

I assumed he wanted a final answer as to who would be our fourth, which drew a very large and involuntary sigh from me. Lookin’ up at myself in the mirror I smiled, realizin’ that I felt nary a twinge from the ribs. All healed. Namin’ Ghost as my partner was a bitter pill. I had to look for posies along the path where I could find them.

‘Tis an understatement to say that I was surprised to see Elora in the conference room when I arrived. I could no’ imagine why she would have been called to sit in. I looked at her, lettin’ my curiosity show on my face, but she gave away nothin’. Hmmm.

I stopped at the side service for a cup of tea, knowin’ that there would be the usual banter about pussies and tea, but no’ carin’. Sometimes a lad needs tea like his mother made and nothin’ else will do. Such an occasion had just presented itself.

I sat down at the table, seein’ that Storm and Kay were equally perplexed, and stirred my tea.

“Ms. Laiken is going to give a short presentation. Please give her the courtesy of hearing her out before expressing your opinions.” Sol nodded toward Elora. “You have the floor.”

I stopped stirrin’ and rested the spoon in the saucer. If I had known what was comin’ I would have poured a cup full of Irish whiskey instead.

I could see that Elora was nervous. ‘Twas the first time I’d seen what anxiety looked like on my girl, but ‘twas unmistakable and it had all my neurons firin’ on red alert.

She moved to stand at the head of the conference table, in front of the blank presentation screen, and began.

“I would like to be considered as a replacement for Sir Landsdowne. I’m the best candidate and I have several good reasons to support that claim.

"I have probationary security clearance. I’m reasonably intelligent. I’m not just trained in hand-to-hand, I’m the trainer. I also have experience with a variety of weapons. I’m familiar with policy and can recite most of the Field Training Manual on request. I am stronger than the strongest knight has ever been. I am faster than the fastest knight has ever been. I can’t be hypnotized. I have had my inoculations. I am resourceful in finding weapons when vampire are afoot and have successfully neutralized the enemy in the field. I’ve established a working relationship, of sorts, with the point per… uh, vampire. I have bonded with B Team. I know them. They know me. We’re comfortable together.

"Last and most important. In this world, those men are the closest thing I have to loved ones. I can’t stay behind while they go out nightly to possible mortal combat - possible fatality, knowing that I could be the lynch pin that keeps them alive. It would be cruel to ask that of me.”

I was almost too stunned to blink, much less to take my eyes away from her. I must tell you that my initial reaction on the matter was to feel betrayed. It seemed my fears that she would be puttin’ our future in constant jeopardy were no’ unfounded. On the contrary, it seemed she was set on a course of destruction. No’ just of herself, but us, whether she knew that or no’.

When Elora sat down, Sol sat forward, but spoke from his chair. “I’ve discussed my personal concerns about this proposal and have been satisfied with answers received.

“The short of it is this. Ms. Laiken has added herself to your short list of replacement candidates. Oddly enough, she was not the first to nominate herself for the position. Istvan Baka pointed out last night that she is a one-of-a-kind resource currently being underutilized.”

Great Paddy. The vampire wants her in the field.

“However, according to tradition, the choice is yours. I, personally, think she’s the best man for the job, but making her B Team’s fourth,” my head came up when he looked straight at me, “and Ram’s partner, will require two of your three votes. Further, one of those votes must be Sir Hawking’s. Those are the conditions. What say you?”

Storm was first to speak. Like that was a surprise. “You cannot be serious. No. Absolutely no. And that could not be more final.”

“One vote no,” Sol said without conveyin’ emotion of any kind.

“Wrong! That would be three votes no.” Storm first looked at Kay, then me. Seems he had jumped to the conclusion we would share his view.

“Hold on.” Kay held up a hand. “I say it’s up to Ram. Partly because he’s the most senior member of B Team and partly because he’s the one most affected since she would be his partner. As far as I’m concerned, everything she said is true. Plus, unlike some of the guys who were on the short list, she’s actually killed a vamp. She did it by herself with no real training and no help of any kind. And another plus that she didn’t add is that, from a purely tactical perspective, she offers some unique benefits, as a woman, that could be useful.”

Storm’s brows were drawn in so tight that deep lines had formed between them. All of a sudden he grasped Kay’s inference and drew in a sharp breath. “Decoy?” He spat. “You’re suggesting using Elora as bait?” I could see the outrage in the color of his complexion and hear it in his voice. He was as petrified by the prospect as was I. Perhaps he really did love her. “That’s the kind of half-cocked idiocy I’d expect from Ram! What is wrong with you, Kay?”

“Look,” Kay answered calmly. “I didn’t put her up to this. She volunteered. Apparently we’ve given her the mistaken impression that our collective asses are worth looking after. She wants to be…”

“...Wendy,” I finished that sentence.

“What?” Storm said it like a challenge.

“’Tis a character in one of her stories. A responsible, nurturin' girl who takes care of lost boys.”

Storm turned on Elora, who was lookin’ at me, considerin’ what I’d just said, but no’ denyin’ it. “Is that true? Is this about some kind of Savior Complex?”

Elora pulled her attention away from me before answerin’ Storm with an evenness that made me proud even as I wanted to put her in a tower keep that was only accessible by me. “Wanting to keep your friends alive is not a psychological aberration, Storm. How do you think I would feel if they brought one of you in on a gurney one night, with me knowing I might have prevented that? My training and abilities should be used for a worthwhile purpose. You can’t really think I’m better suited to clerical work.

"I get it. You’re afraid I might get hurt. Now you need to understand that I feel exactly the same about the three of you.”

I stared straight ahead, no’ really seein’ what was before me, only visions of the horrors that were potential results of this insane notion.

“As I see it, the only drawback is this,” Kay continued, “and I’m going to be completely honest because it’s just us here in this room. Right or wrong, B Team is regarded as cream risen to the top. You know that Lan’s place would usually be seen as a reward for an outstanding record. The feeling might be that it isn’t fair to give the spot to someone who hasn’t earned it the usual way.”

“I think that’s a very good point,” Storm concurred.

Sol turned his attention to Kay. “So, is that a vote yes or a vote no?”

Kay pressed his lips together, sighed, and said, “Yes.” He turned toward Storm, knowin’ before he looked that his partner thought his position was a betrayal. “Sorry.” He shook his head. “On balance, I think it’s the best thing for the team and maybe also our best shot at dealing with this outbreak. The city's counting down to panic. So far they haven’t put together that what many of the missing have in common is a club in the Times Square district, but they will. We’re just running out of time for indulgent choices.”

Sol looked at me and said the very thing I did no’ want to confront. No’ in a hundred years. “Guess that means it’s up to you, Hawking.”

She looked at me hopefully. My predicament was a true Catch 22. If I said aye, I would drastically increase the chances of losin’ her. If I said no, she would be safer, but she’d hate me for takin’ her choice and, therefore, her freedom away. Knowin’ that for people such as ourselves freedom is a critical factor in happiness, I would therefore be takin’ her happiness away as well. And I had pledged myself to the proposition of seein’ to that just hours before.

“Goes without sayin’, that if she was any other female, this would no’ even be on the table. But we know how special she is. I can no’ stand the idea of exposin’ her to what’s out there, but I do no’ have reasonable grounds to deny her if this is what she wants. As she said, she is stronger, faster, and is the best of us in hand to hand. She’s very likely smarter as well, at least more so than I. So far as bein’ my partner, I already know I like spendin’ time with her. If she’s goin’ to be out there, I’m glad I’ll be close by.”

“So that’s a yes?” Sol asked for clarification.

“Aye. ‘Tis.”

“This is madness!” Storm thundered, then let out a string of curses under his breath that were easily heard by me and perhaps the others as well. For someone opposed to swearin’, he could turn the air blue when he was of a mind to do so.

Sol gave him a witherin’ look that said he was regardin’ him with all the esteem one would bestow on a toddler throwin’ a tantrum. Under other circumstances I would have found that immensely entertainin’. “I think as a courtesy Gautier should be told before a general announcement is made. Right or wrong, he’s expecting to be named. I will inform him of the decision, but with your permission, would like to be able to tell him he will automatically be transferred to B Team the next time there’s an opening. Gods forbid. Does everyone agree?” Sol took the silence as acquiescence by abstention.

“Also,” he went on, “Ms. Laiken and I have discussed a couple of procedural issues and resolved them. The one that concerns you is The Order’s policy on office romance. Since there has never been a female operative in the department of hunters, it hasn’t previously been an issue. As a formality I need your acknowledgement that you are aware of the policy.”

“Done,” said Kay.

My head felt pressurized like I was under water. This was a Catch 22. It was a Catch 33. I’d barricaded myself into a corner with no escape. No fuckin’ romance? After all the research I’d done to woo the Lady Laiken?

I was a rule breaker by nature, but I’d always respected Black Swan policies because they were worthy of respect. This, though, was something else. I had to draw the line at the idea of The Order comin’ between an elf and his mate. Great Paddy.

“Acknowledged,” I said. I did exactly as asked. No more. No less.

Sol turned to Storm. “Nod if you understand.”

I imagine we all saw the tick in Storm’s jaw muscle. He was glarin’ daggers at the Sovereign, who really couldn’t have cared less, but Storm managed enough of a chin dip to count as a nod.

Next, Sol’s attention rested on Elora. “Lady Laiken, report to the personnel office in one hour and they will go over your benefits package. You will receive the same salary and benefits as any knight on probation.”

“What are benefits?” she asked.

“Things like pension, holiday, and sick leave.”

“I don’t get sick.”

“You mean you’ve never been sick?” She shook her head. “Ever?”

“I’ve never been sick. Ever.”

“Interesting. Your team has one week to brief you on guidelines and bring you up to speed on weaponry. It will also give us time to make adjustments to your teaching schedule.

“Your induction ceremony will be tonight after dinner. All knights not on rotation will be present. Congratulations. Welcome to Black Swan.”

“Are we done?” Storm grated. If anything it seemed his irritation was buildin’ rather than subsidin’.

Sol looked at him. “One more thing. The three of you are responsible for getting her up to speed on equipment and whatever street sense didn’t make it into the Field Manual.”

Storm huffed and stomped out, lettin’ the door slam against the wall on his way out.

Sol looked at Kay. “He may be due for a workshop on temper control.”

It really was kind of surreal to be hearin’ that sort of talk about somebody else. The fact that the subject was Storm, of all people, would have been comical if there was anything, at that moment in time, that could have made me smile.

Kay stood and said, “Don’t worry. He’ll come round,” to Elora, then leaned over the table and offered his hand. “Welcome to B Team, Lady Laiken.”

Elora stood and took his hand, lookin’ satisfied that at least one of us had some grace. “Thank you, Sir Caelian.”

“You know there’s a reason why they call us Bad Company,” he said. “And it isn’t because we’re no fun.”

She smiled. “I surmised as much and will do my best to uphold the reputation for badness.”

Kay smiled and walked away. As usual, Sol had left without a goodbye. When the man was done, he was done. Niceties be damned.

I was still sittin’ in the chair tryin’ to sort through what had just happened. ‘Twas the Fates’ version of a drive-by, to be sure. An hour ago I’d thought my biggest problem was findin’ a way to make Elora Laiken fall into forever love with me.

Now my biggest problem was how to keep her safe in the field. I’d be needin’ to watch for vampire and rivals, who just kept poppin’ up. ‘Twas bad enough when Storm set his cap for my mate. Now a slick old leech was vyin’ for her affections as well. Paddy.

“Are you going to sit there until bedtime?”

I looked up at Elora. “Had no’ really made other plans.”

“I need a celebration cocoa.”

I shrugged and got to my feet. “Right behind you.”

She stopped at the door and turned to me, lookin’ more trustin’ and innocent than any vampire hunter I’d ever seen. “Thank you for the vote, Ram.”

I felt my mouth twitch. “You’re welcome. Lady Laiken.”

She giggled. Another first for a vampire hunter.

Following the induction ceremony, Sovereign Nemamiah requested that the gatherin’ stay behind for an update on the operation involvin’ Baka. The exact reasons for the vampire’s involvement had remained above my pay grade and that of the other knights, so far as I knew.

Sol stood on the floor of the Chamber and addressed those of us who were present, includin’ the newest Black Swan knight sittin’ to my right and smellin’ far, far better than a vampire hunter should.

“You’re all aware that Istvan Baka has a temporary reprieve to work with us, under contract, on getting the numbers of disappearances under control.” He nodded at Elora. “You can thank the recent inductee for securing his help, which has already proved valuable beyond measure.

“Baka was instrumental in creating a network of fool proof hideaways for vampire when he was in New York decades ago. The system connects unused and abandoned subway tunnels to secret street level entry and exit points. He has confirmed that there was such an access point in the old Tri-State Mercantile building currently occupied by the club, Notte Fuoco.

“Obviously all vampire are not coming and going from that point, but put an asterisk next to its importance. It’s sure to figure prominently in our strategy to curb the epidemic. You’ll be kept posted when new intel is available. That is all.”

The next day the new B Team assembled on the Splat Deck for trainin’ purposes. Kay was goin’ over a variety of weapons lined up on a table in front of him.

“We developed bullets with a core made of hard wood so green it won’t catch fire before reaching the target, but we like the splat guns better because they’re silent and if an innocent gets in the way, they won’t get hurt.

"As you might guess, one of the logistics problems is how to carry this,” pickin’ up a splat pistol, “without drawing attention. That’s a lot easier to do in cold weather because you can hide a world of sins in outerwear. In warm weather we pretty much have to rely on stakes in boots.

"The silver gel only works on exposed skin. That means if your aim isn’t good enough to hit a vamp in the face, it won’t do you any good. So we’ll start with the fixed targets at maximum range of thirty feet. Have you ever shot a gun?”

“No.”

“Okay, well, we all have our strengths and weaknesses. We know you’re good at hand to hand.”

“And ancient weapons,” she added.

“Yeah, but swords and quivers are not exactly low profile. Storm’s the best shot.” He turned to Storm. “Why don’t you show her how it’s done?”

“You wanted her on the team. You show her.”

Great Paddy. I did no’ know Storm was even capable of bein’ such a whiney little infant, but ‘twas wearin’ thin. So thin, in fact, that I had no more patience to bring. I stepped in front of his face so he had no choice but to look at me and see that I was no’ pleased with his bitchy little attitude.

“What’s this now? A fearless leader or just a pouty lunker who turns crybaby when he does no’ get his way? ‘Tis done! You get that? Let me say it again carefully. ‘Tis. Done! She’s one of us. And if you do no’ come on board, you’re goin’ to get us all killed.” I jerked my head toward Elora. “That includes her.”

His nostrils were flarin’ as he clenched and unclenched his jaw. I could see he was no’ ready to step it back. He fumed at me like I was the enemy for a few seconds, but a change in perspective registered on his face and his breathing slowed. I do no’ know if ‘twas because he replayed my words in his head, but something brought him ‘round to reason.

“Okay. Move aside.”

Because he sounded like himself, I did.

He picked up one of the splat guns from the middle of the table and went to stand next to Elora. “The gel capsules go in here. There are three shots to a cartridge. When it’s loaded, you move this latch with your thumb to bring them forward into the chamber. Here. You try.”

Elora watched carefully and repeated the steps right the first time.

“We deliberately designed these guns with a sound identical to loading shells in a shotgun because any advantage is a good advantage. And few things sound more ominous than hearing the sound of a shell moving into the chamber of a shotgun, especially when it’s both quiet and dark. Vampire scare fairly easily and then they make fatal errors.” He smiled. "We like that."

He took the gun from her hand, spun and fired three shots in rapid succession. All hit the target in the face.

“Whoa. Seriously?” she said.

“Told you he was good,” said Kay with pride.

Storm smiled. “Okay. Load again and try to hit my shots on the target.”

She loaded the weapon like she’d been doin’ it for years. After Storm corrected her stance, she fired. The first two shots missed altogether. One hit a target in the crotch - two targets away from where she was aimin’. By the fourth round she’d managed to hit her target… in the crotch.

I gave Kay a WTF look and said, “I’m beginnin’ to sense a very disturbin’ pattern here.”

He laughed, but Elora slid a sideways glance at me that looked a lot like elvish mischief. "Maybe you should keep it in mind, partner.”

I laughed softly, hopin’ the idea that there’s always truth in jokes was a cock-eyed notion.

I stepped behind her, placed my hands on her hips, and urged her to swivel her body to make a slight angle to target adjustment. I ducked down a little to mimic her line of sight and moved her arm up a bit.

“You’re hittin’ ‘round two and a half feet south of where you’re aimin’. Maybe there’s more of a drop in flight than you’re calculatin’. So why do you no’ try aimin’ just that much higher and see what happens?”

Her next shot hit the target in the chest.

“I’m callin’ that progress.” I smiled at the little victory.

Kay took the pistol from her and said, “We’ll work on it.”

That night at dinner, Kay made Elora feel welcome as our newest teammate. First, with a gift. He’d had Farnsworth find one of those gold plated business card holders and had it engraved with her initials. He handed her a beautifully wrapped gift box and looked on with pride as she opened it.

“A business card holder?” she asked. “It’s beautiful, Kay. Do we, ah, carry business cards?”

He laughed and shook his head. “Look inside.”

She opened the case to reveal twenty or so toothpicks.

“Just in case your shooting doesn’t improve,” he said. Elora rose and went ‘round the table to give Kay a kiss on the cheek and a neck hug. “Hey. I’m an engaged man.”

She reseated herself with a big smile. “Thank you. You never know when such a gift might come in handy.”

The second part of Kay’s plan to make the evening an occasion included sharin’ B Team’s most embarrassin’ moments, includin’ me givin’ Storm mouth to mouth. Paddy. I had worked hard at purgin’ that experience from memory.

We threw everything we could think of at her, hopin’ the important stuff would stick. Or come back to her if needed.

“Never allow yourself to be separated from your partner,” Kay said. Storm nodded. “And we can’t ever let the team be trapped together at a dead end or elevator, places like that.”

“And there are better ways to identify leeches than askin’ to see their fangs.” Criminently. That was one for the annals.

“Like what?” she asked.

“You encountered a vamp by himself, but that’s unusual. They like to work in twos or threes. The one you followed was hopin’ to get a free ride. Like buzzards waitin’ their turn for the ones closest to the carcass to get their fill and fly off.”

“Ew,” she said.

“Are you sure you’re no’ too squeamish for this kind of work?”

“I guess it’s too late to consider that now,” said Storm, allowin’ his surliness to resurface.

“Back to the subject.” I gave Storm a pointed look then turned to Elora. “After a while you’ll be able to recognize vampire on sight. They move differently, stiffer I guess you’d say.”

“Stiffer?” Kay said. “Funny, Ram.”

“Well…” I shrugged as if to say I can no’ help that I’m naturally entertainin’. Back to Elora, I said, “In the beginnin’ you can rely on us to help identify targets.”

She surprised me then by sayin’ to Storm, “The day you told me about what happened to Lan, you mentioned aphrodisiacs and I didn’t question it at the time. I know there are differences, but in my world, aphrodisiacs were proven to be a myth.”

I had no’ known about the conversation, but I supposed there must have been quite a lot that passed between the two of them without my knowledge. I tried to make light of it. “I, for one, would very much like to hear how that was proved.”

“Um, actually, it was a TV show called ‘Myth Busters’. Every episode they would take a commonly held belief and put it through a series of scientifically designed tests to determine fact or fiction. I saw the one on aphrodisiacs.”

Storm looked unconvinced. “Like you said, what if it’s one of those other-dimension differences?”

“Could be. I’m just saying that aphrodisiacs can be a convenient ‘devil made me do it’ excuse.”

Storm nodded. “Noted.”

I noticed that Kay was lookin’ at Elora with more interest than usual. “On another note entirely,” he said, “I don’t want to be the dead messenger, but I think you ought to do something about the hair.”

Elora blinked. “Like what?”

“Like cut it off.”

“What? Why?”

“Your hair is great, Elora, but you didn’t just fight your way into a beauty contest. Your priorities have got to shift from cuteness to battle readiness.

"This must have been mentioned in your hand-to-hand training. If you leave all that hair down, sooner or later it will get in the way, could easily create a blind spot. Wearing it up is almost worse because it might as well be a handle; grab, jerk, pull you off balance at best, snap your neck at worst. I think I speak for all of us when I say I’d rather see you alive with shorter hair.”

Elora looked from Storm to me for our reactions. I did no’ entirely agree because, after all, I wear my hair longer than most. But if it would improve her chances of survivin’…

“Well, when put like that, how can I no’ agree?” Even as I said it I was thinkin’ about all the nights I’d laid in bed fantasizing about divin’ into a tangled mass of jasmine scented silky strands. Or feelin’ it trail down my body in concert with feathered kisses from chin to cock. Or havin’ it brush against my thighs as I watched her ride me with her head thrown back. I looked at it with longin’ and said, “I, too, prefer you alive.”

Elora looked down, clearly no’ happy with the suggestion. “I’ll think about it,” she said. Without segue her head came up and she seemed reanimated. “I’ve had an idea and want to run it past you.”

We nodded or gestured for her to continue.

“I was thinking about Baka’s gig as bass player for Notte Fuoco. We might expand on that idea. He could maybe arrange for jobs for the four of us. Then we could be there every night. Sort of like under cover without raising suspicion, but keeping each other in sight?”

The three veteran members of B Team looked at each other. ‘Twas no’ just a good idea. ‘Twas nothin’ less than brilliant.

“I think you should be a dancer, Kay,” I said.

“Funny, Ram. I think you should bus tables.”

”Okay. Seriously. If the vamps are coming and going from the live music level in the basement, then, shouldn’t that be the center of the operation?”

“Yeah. She’s right,” Storm said. “She should serve drinks. Right or wrong that’s what patrons expect to see female employees doing. Plus it gives her a mobility that we wouldn’t have as bouncers or bartenders.”

“If she’s going to serve drinks, then Ram should bartend. That makes the most sense. They might not be in constant contact, but he could keep an eye on her.”

“And vice versa,” she corrected Kay, makin’ me smile.

“And vice versa,” he repeated, lookin’ between the two of us.

“We’ll be bouncers.”

Elora nodded. “Makes sense. You look the part.”

“Sol’s call. We have to run it by him, but I’d give you dimes to dollars, he’s gonna love it,” Storm said.

And he did.

Elora worked hard the rest of that week. She worked on target practice and spent considerable time with the bar staff tryin’ to pick up the fine art of professional drink delivery.

When she was no’ busy trainin’, she was workin’ with that dog. Alsatians were versatile dogs, good at just about any task you set before them. So it was no’ a surprise that Blackie took to her ‘hunt the vampire’ game that she’d devised usin’ two halves of Baka’s shirt.

One afternoon she knocked on my door.

“Come play a game with us.”

Now how could I refuse such an invitation? “Sure. Do I get to name the game?” I leered.

“No,” she ignored my innuendo. As usual. “I want you to play hide and go seek with my dog. Give me one of your tees from the laundry. Then I want you to go hide somewhere in the building.”

I opened my mouth to ask where, but she held up her hand.

“Don’t tell me where. I don’t want to influence the outcome. We’ll give you a, what do you think, ten minute head start?”

“Okay.” I went back inside to grab a shirt out of the hamper. I’d just had laundry done so there was no’ much to choose from. As I handed her my favorite Black Sabbath shirt, I said, “I need that back. No blood. No rips. No teeth marks.”

She laughed. “If he doesn’t find you in,” she looked at her watch, “half an hour, I’ll call you and tell you the first attempt failed.” She started away. “Oh. Start in the Hub though. That’s where I’m going to set him on you.”

“Set him on me?”

Chucklin’ she said, “You know what I mean.”

“No’ sure that I do.”

“Come on. It’ll be fun.”

I got off the elevators at the Hub, but got back on and went down to the lowest level. I knew exactly where I was goin’ to wait. The cage that used to be his prison.

I had brought a book and planned to settle in for half an hour before gettin’ a phone call, but five minutes after I was in place, I heard the sound of claws tappin’ on the tile floor. By Paddy, the dog had done it and in time that must be some kind of record. He rushed to the outside of the cage and barked a song of victory in between moments of grinnin’ at me.

When Elora arrived, she had Storm with her. Blackie looked over his shoulder, waggin’ his tail and put a paw up to the cage like he was ready for his trophy photo.

Elora went to her knees and let that mutt lick every inch of her face while she praised and petted him.

I got up and let myself out. “I’d be askin’ for a hello kiss myself if you were no’ wearin’ so much dog drool on your face.”

Storm gave me a dirty look. I supposed ‘twas because I talked about Elora and kissin’ in the same sentence. The lad was goin’ to have to get over it.

CHAPTER 21

Ram

Like Elora, I had my own homework to do. If you ask me, my job was harder. It requires a much higher level of education to mix drinks than to take orders for them and carry them to tables. So I started carryin’ a little handbook around, studyin’ recipes and such. Elora quizzed me before and after dinner every night and I was startin’ to feel like a bartender. Perhaps I did no’ have the flashiest moves, but the ladies like to look at me and that counts for something. If the Black Swan gig ever dried up and I did no’ want work as a prince, which I definitely did no’, well, people will always drink.

We hit a snag with the uniforms. Well, no’ Elora. She got field operations to modify her skirt so that she could attach a gun to a garter and no one would be the wiser. I’d never thought I had a weapons fetish, but that image never failed to get me hard. My hands itched to reach under that skirt and gently pop that garter. I know. That was neither here nor there. Just sayin’. Some day.

Notte Fuoco dress code was no’ so much a problem for me because I could stow a satchel under the bar, but Kay and Storm had no way to hide splat pistols under black tees and jeans. They were bare ass except for stakes in boots, which was a much bigger risk to themselves.

The Fates must have been doubled over laughin’ at me. As a demonstration of ‘bein’ careful what you’re wishin’ for’, B Team was back on the duty roster. I’d been ready to get back to work and wantin’ to see our names posted, but that was before. In my defense, I could no’ have guessed in a hundred years that my mate would be the first female knight in the history of The Order. And on B Team!

We had Thursdays and Sundays off because those were the slow nights at the club. And Mondays, o’ course because the club levels were closed.

So Tuesday night found me behind the bar tryin’ my best to look like a whiskey-slingin’ professional. It was no’ too hard except for the fact that my first priority was keepin’ an eye out for where my teammates were at all times. And, o’course, lookin’ for signs of vampire.

I lived for the trips Elora made into the bar to leave or pick up an order. She always had a smile that seemed to say she thought of me as special, but I could have been readin’ too much in.

Every hour we got a ten minute break. When the crew arrived to spell us, I turned to Elora and said, “Let’s go up to the street. I’m feelin’ bat shit claustrophobic down here.”

“Sure,” she said. “Sounds like a plan.”

It felt good to be out on the street. It felt good to have Elora all to myself. ‘Twas without my teammates ‘round. ‘Twas when I had the idea that a day in the city would be a perfect ruse for a romantic date. I could always say I was just givin’ an out-of-towner a tour of the city. If she happened to fall in love with me by the by, how could I be blamed?

We turned in response to the noise bein’ made by a group of young women who emerged from the club lookin’ like they’d had way too many spirits in too short a time. One of them noticed me and, even through a drunken haze, I saw interest click behind her eyes.

She headed straight toward us, pushed her way between my partner and me, and tried to press her comic fake boobs into me. I had taken a step back and was just about to tell her to buzz off, when she jerked right and stumbled into her friends.

Elora had taken her by her sideways ponytail and shoved her aside. “Find something else to do,” she said.

The lady, and aye, I use the term in the most generic sense, grabbed onto one of her friends to get her balance while swearin’ in a way that would make Paddy, himself, turn away blushin’.

When she looked up at Elora, I could see she was contemplatin’ a cat fight. The idea of a drunken girl thinkin’ about a brawl with a Black Swan knight, especially my partner, was so ridiculous I laughed in the girl’s face and said, “Oh. I definitely would no’ if I were you.”

Her friends decided on her behalf that my admonition was good advice. She half-staggered as they pulled her away under protest.

Crisis averted, I had the opportunity to consider what had just happened. ‘Twas no’ my imagination that time. My mate had acted on jealousy. There was no other reasonable explanation. And that realization must have made me look very much like the Cheshire cat.

When I turned my very delighted smile on Elora, she looked around like she was embarrassed and said, “I really have no idea why I did that. It was wrong. I mean it’s not as if you can’t take care of yourself or decide whose fake chest you want pressed against you.”

“Elora…”

She walked away before I could respond, sayin’, “I’ve got to visit the Ladies’ before time’s up. I’ll see you down there.”

“Hold on. Partners stay together. Remember?” I caught up to her before she opened the door to go back in.

Looking agitated, she said, “You are not using that as an excuse to come in the women’s restroom with me.”

I smiled, hopin’ to put her at ease. The last thing I wanted was for her to ever feel embarrassed ‘round me. No’ for any reason. And particularly no’ if she was feelin’ an instinctive reaction to keepin’ other females away from me. What I wanted more than anything in this life was for Elora Laiken to see me as claimed territory. “No? Well, then I’ll wait outside.” Then I added, “For a count of one hundred.”

Wednesday night, I knocked on her door to signal ‘twas time to catch the whister. For the second time, you could have knocked me over when she opened up. Her beautiful hair had been shorn close to her head. ‘Twas less than three inches long. Spikey. Messy. ‘Twould fit in with club work, but oh. How I would miss that hair.

“Kay’s right. Long hair’s too easy to grab. I found that out last night.”

I nodded just before reachin’ up to run my hand over her head, wishin’ I’d done that when ‘twas still long. “Still beautiful,” I said. And ‘twas the truth of it.

She closed the door. As we walked toward the elevator, I screwed up my courage and said, “Would you like to spend tomorrow with me?”

She glanced sideways, but kept walkin’. “I would, but I can’t. Storm’s taking me to the mall shopping and teaching me to drive.”

“He’s takin' you shoppin' at a suburb mall and teachin' you to drive? Okay. Better him than me.” ‘Twas a lie. I would have been glad to take her anywhere, partly because I wanted to be with her and partly because I did no’ want her with Storm. Great. Paddy.

She gave me a playful punch to my bicep. I laughed on cue although I was feelin’ like givin’ Storm a much less than playful punch to his smug-all ugly face. “Then Sunday. Give me Sunday.”

“Sure.”

“Ten thirty. Street clothes.”

The next day I was incurably irritable and no’ fit for company of any kind. Knowin’ Elora was spendin’ time alone with Storm sat in my gut like a burr under the saddle.

I had dinner by myself at the bar and then headed to the back of the lounge for poker. On the way back, I passed Ghost playin’ darts. He caught my eye and lifted his chin in acknowledgement. Paddy, he was an ugly fucker. I could no’ say for sure that I saw hard feelin’s in his stare, but I suspected he was no’ at all happy about bein’ passed over. Especially by a woman.

Truth be told, most males would have a problem with that and ‘twas compounded by the fact that she’d skipped the dues-payin’ that the rest of us had undergone. Aye. She was the exception to almost every rule in the book and I knew that better than anyone. Still, it might be a hard pill to swallow for a seasoned knight expectin’ a bump.

I mimicked his chin tip on the way past and closed the door to the card room behind me.

On my way to my usual seat at the table, Sanction said, “Hawking, I was just saying that we have a guest tonight. Storm has been teaching the Lady Laiken to play poker. Since Bellstrong is on duty tonight, I told him she could sit in, that we’re just as happy to take her money as somebody else’s.”

My mood instantly elevated. That meant that, any minute, she’d be walkin’ through the door and sittin’ nearby. No sooner did I have that thought than she did come through the door, followed by Storm.

As she took the seat opposite me, I scanned her body slowly. For damage. You know. She appeared to be alright. In fact, she sent a high beam smile my direction that played my body like a xylophone.

Since I’d been off my feedbag all day, I was feelin’ more than peckish. I ordered one of the Hub’s big club sandwiches made with thick nine grain bread, no’ stingy with the bacon. Things were lookin’ up.

I could no’ wait to see how well Storm had taught her to play and if she’d be able to hide anything from me. She looked at the first hand and grinned at everyone like she’d drawn a royal flush, then folded. I saw a series of glances exchanged ‘round the table and, really, I did no’ blame them. ‘Twas strange even for an outworlder.

By the sixth hand, I had caught on that she was tryin’ to disguise the transparency of emotion, usually imprinted on her face in exquisitely expressive ways, by actin’. I had to give Storm credit due if he’d deliberately taught her that. ‘Twas workin’. I was sure that, given enough time, I could decipher a pattern, but for one night? She might at least get out of the game without heavy losses.

After three hours, the two of us were in for a big pot. Aye. I won it. And got to learn one more thing about my girl. She was no’ a sore loser.

CHAPTER 22

Ram

The rest of the week was uneventful, which was good and bad. ‘Twas good because my partner and mate had no’ been put at risk. ‘Twas bad for the same reason. We were startin’ to think our brilliant play to stake out the alleged vamp hot-spot was no’ so brilliant after all.

No’ much could dampen my enthusiasm because I had planned a romantic day in the city with the Lady Laiken and nothin’ would take the shine off that.

A cold front blew in from Canada Saturday night bringin’ wind with it. And nothin’ stings like moisture-rich wind rushin’ through the canyons formed by tall buildin’s between the two rivers.

She opened the door with a smile that quickly vanished when she saw the look on my face. “What’s wrong?” she said, lookin’ down at her clothes.

I smiled. “With you? No’ a thing in the world. But you’ll be needin’ a warmer coat. ‘Tis colder than a well digger’s arse where we’re goin’.”

“Oh,” she said. “And where is that?”

“’Tis a surprise. Grab a hat while you’re at it. The hair bob does no’ leave you much protection from a bite of winter.”

“Sometimes I think you want to dress me up like a doll.”

“Nothin’ could be further from the truth. Although…”

“Never mind. I’ll be right back.”

I waited by the door with Blackie, who, I noticed, was wearin’ a leash.

“Goin’ somewhere”? I asked. He grinned at me, showin’ off his sparklin’ white canines.

“How’s this?” Elora held her arms out askin’ for approval. She was wearin’ one of the polartech coats. That should do it.

“Perfect.”

“Good. Let’s go.” She grabbed the leash.

“Um. I had no’ planned on havin’ the pooch accompany us.”

“Oh, I know. I’m droppin’ him off at Operations. They like havin’ him around and he’d rather be there than alone in here.”

“Okay.”

“Tell me where we’re going.” I was mightily encouraged by the excitement I heard in her voice.

“Sightseein’.”

“Really? Where?” She was almost breathless. It was adorable.

“Today we’re tourists. There’s a whister waitin’ to take us into the city. There’s more to New York than Notte Fuoco and Times Square.”

She almost squealed, makin’ me feel good about the time I’d spent researchin’ romance. I knew the Yuletide decorations made the city more romantic because the guides said so.

We walked three blocks from the drop to Saks to look at the display windows. I had my hands in my pockets to keep them warm. She linked her gloved hand to the crook of my arm and snuggled in close while I laughed from the pure joy of havin’ her so close.

We walked down to Rockfeller Center to see the Yule tree and the ice skaters.

“’Tis a tradition to get hot chocolate when you come to see the big tree.”

“I could learn to love tradition.” She smiled.

“Very well. Let’s put that to the test and begin with women in the kitchen and knowin’ their place.”

She laughed. I went to fetch chocolate while she went to find a table by the rink where we could watch the skaters. She waved at me to show she’d been successful in snaggin’ a place to sit.

“This reminds me of Yule at home.” She looked a little sad. “We always had a big tree – well, not as big as this.”

I stopped, almost afraid to breathe. It was the first time she’d mentioned something from her life before and I did no’ want to say the wrong thing. After mullin’ it over, I decided it would be safe to say, “With lights and ornaments?”

She nodded. “The works. Does your family celebrate Yule?”

“Oh, aye. In a big way. They are very much into good times.”

“Well, that explains a lot.” She smiled at me with something lookin’ enough like affection to make me think my plan was workin’.

“Here’s to good times spent together.” I raised my paper cup in toast. When the cocoa was gone, I said, “’Tis too cold to sit still. Let’s keep movin’.”

I noticed that some people were gettin’ photos in front of the tree. Seemed like a good idea. So I stopped an elderly gent and asked if he’d take a photo of us with the decorations behind us.

“Come close.” I smiled at Elora and she obliged, snugglin’ in tight like she belonged there.

“Smile,” he said. And we did.

As we walked, she babbled in the most precious way, askin’ questions about everything in sight. When we passed the Sherry Netherland on the way to the Metropolitan Museum, she said, “Oh that’s where…” But she did no’ finish the sentence.

“Where what?”

“Um, I just heard nice things about it.”

I had to laugh at the understatement. “Aye. ‘Tis probably the most costly hotel in this hemisphere.”

I hailed a cab to take us the rest of the way. Elora said she wanted to try it the next time.

“Try what? The Sherry Netherland?”

“Ha! You wish. No, silly. Getting a taxi.”

“Oh. Aye.” ‘Twas turnin’ out to be a wonderful day in so many ways. ‘Twas a great pleasure to share that she was findin’ adventure in simple things taken for granted by most of us.

“The museum is a wonder. You could spend weeks there. Maybe months, but we do no’ have long because I’m set on givin’ you a ‘taste of New York’. One day is no’ nearly long enough to see the Big Apple. So we’re like butterflies, just lightin’ down here and there for a short time.”

“Why do they call it the Big Apple?”

“No idea,” I answered honestly, wonderin’ why I’d never been curious enough to find out.

“Let’s ask somebody.”

I paid the cab driver while Elora began askin’ passersby if they knew why New York was called the Big Apple. After a dozen or so people had been queried, every one regardin’ her with the suspicion usually reserved for census takers, she was ready to give it up.

“Well, what’s the point of nicknaming a city if nobody knows what it means?”

I smiled and shrugged. “You make an excellent point. I vow to go on knightly quest for my lady and will no’ rest until I bring you the answer.”

She grinned and batted her eyelashes.

We climbed the steps and found the end of the coat check queue. I turned to have a look at who else was out on a blustery Sunday and came face to face with a cute toddler, ridin’ her mother’s hip and primed for a flirt with me. I was engaged in a fetchin’ game of peekaboo, when I noticed Elora watchin’. I turned toward her with a smile.

“So you like babies,” she said.

“Well, aye. Who does no’?”

“Most people like their own, I guess. You’re full of surprises, Rammel Hawking.”

“Back at you, Elora Laiken.”

I got our tickets and pulled Elora out of the way where she could have a look at the guide.

“What’s your fancy? Sixteenth century violins? Eighteenth century paintin’s? Ancient Egyptian tomb raidin’s?

She pointed to a square on the brochure. “Arms and armor.”

“O' course,” I said.

After a couple of hours, she said, “You were right, Ram. It would take months to see everything here. And that’s if it was your full time job.”

I nodded. “Just so. And we’ve used up the time allotted for this stop on the tour.”

“Oh, no, but…”

“We have lunch reservations at a place that specializes in chocolate.”

“Which way to get our coats?”

I chuckled, but cataloged the fact that my mate could be manipulated with chocolate as easily as persuadin’ a horse with sugar.

When we started away, I said, “What was the most surprisin' thing?”

“How tiny people used to be.”

“You’ve lost me.”

“Didn’t you notice that the suits of armor looked like they’d been made for twelve-year-olds?”

“Well, now that you mention it. I suppose you’re right.”

One thing about Elora, she was as unpredictable as the weather, which suited me just fine. I counted myself the lucky one to be in for a very interestin’, never borin’, life.

Outside, she said, “Ooh. I want a turn at getting a cab.”

“You’ll get your turn, but no’ here.” I pointed at the taxi stand. “See. They’re already lined up and waitin’ for us.”

“Too easy,” she said.

At Serendipity I told her to go easy on lunch and save room for frozen hot chocolate. After we ordered, she turned to me and said, “A Bi-Sensual burger? Is that code for bisexual?”

She was referrin’ to my order.

“Certainly no’,” I said. “It means twice as sexy.” I gave her my best seductive smile, but she looked more dubious than turned on.

When she finished her black bean soup, she left for the powder room, which was civilized talk for the john. I had nothin’ to do but turn around and look at the commotion behind me. Six little girls and a chaperone out for some lucky little lady’s birthday. When I turned, they stopped and looked at me. So I made a face.

At first, they weren’t sure how to react, but then one of them laughed. Within a couple of minutes they were all findin’ me hilarious. Unfortunately Elora returned to our table to find me with two long French fries hangin’ from my nostrils. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. Until I was confronted by the horrified look of the woman I was supposed to be romancin’.

I quickly pulled the potatoes out of my nose and set them aside on my napkin. Even I agree that it would be unacceptable to eat food that has been in your nose. In public.

As she studied me, I waited for her to say that she was ready to return to J.U. At length, she smiled instead and said, “You’re going to be a wonderful father someday, Ram.”

I was no’ goin’ to be a father at all. Elf-human matches are barren, but I would no’ trade what destiny chose for me for anybody else’s life. Elora Laiken was a treasure beyond compare.

At that moment the waiter set an enormous goblet of frozen hot chocolate in front of her and I got a glimpse of what it would look like to be loved by Elora. I watched every movement as she dived into the concoction.

Seemed like ‘twould be a good time to slip in twenty questions, while she was distracted with chocolate.

“So what’s the best dinner you ever had?”

She answered without hesitation. “Castle Kronberg, on the outskirts of Frankfurt.”

“What are your favorite flowers?”

“Stargazer lilies with Mexican red roses and tree fern. No baby’s breath or leather leaf. Ughh. And I don’t like flowers to look ‘arranged’. I like them to look like you just cut them in the garden, brought them in and dropped them in a vase.”

“Favorite movie.”

“Willow.”

“Why?”

“The love story, of course. And the rascal-turned-hero adventure.”

“Best love song ever.”

“’If ’ by Bread.”

Somehow I managed to keep from gaggin’. Visibly. “Tell me about your favorite boyfriend.”

She stiffened. Her demeanor changed and she set her spoon down.

“I’ve never had a boyfriend.” She looked at me like she was waitin’ for a follow up question. “Okay, I know what you’re dying to ask so I’ll tell you. I’m not a virgin, but it wasn’t an experience I’m eager to repeat, either.”

I could have kicked my own arse for stumblin’ into mood-ruinin’ territory. But her reaction was unexpected and contained the seeds of things I needed to know. My feelin’ at the time was that somebody had made Elora believe that sex was something to be avoided. I kept my face blank, but on the inside I was wishin’ I could track the bloke down and set him on fire.

I’d vowed to have nothin’ spoil the day. No’ even me. So I had to do damage control and fast.

“Hey. Let’s go do something fun.”

“Like what?” She gave me a small smile. “Tell me now.”

“Demandin'. I like that,” I teased. “The grand dame of modern department stores. Other than Harrods in London," he amended. "You want it. They got it.”

“Ooh. My kind of place.”

“Guessed as much. Enough online shoppin’ for you. Let’s go milk the real cow.”

The walk to Bloomin’dales was even colder because the wind had come up. She nestled into my side, makin’ me thank the gods of winter for small favors.

“Now I have one question for you,” she said. “What do you want more than anything else in the world?”

O’course the answer to that question was easy and immediate. What I wanted to say was, “You.” Plain and simple. What I said instead was, “I can no’ say.”

“I’m betting you plan to have a big family someday, lots of children.”

I turned my face toward her. She was so close that my lips were practically touchin’ her cheek. I said, “’Tis no’ that important, Elora.” I hoped she would always remember what I said, that I spoke from the heart, and believe me.

She pulled to a stop and, bein’ both strong and heavy, that meant I came to a stop with her.

“Wait, Ram, let’s do this.”

She was lookin’ at a neon palm sign above a door that read, “Fortunes Told”.

“Give your future to Gypsies?”

She laughed at me. “That’s the most superstitious thing I’ve ever heard anyone say! Don’t be ridiculous. Come on. It’s just for fun.”

I do no’ like dabblin’ in the occult, or more likely, gettin’ fleeced, but ‘twas no’ a day for denyin’ her what she wanted. So I shrugged and opened the door for her to go before me.

There was no wait. The boy who greeted us showed us into a back room that looked just like what people would expect. We sat down on foldin’ chairs in front of Madame Whatever.

She looked at me. “Fifty dollars.”

I fished a fifty dollar bill out of my wallet and set it on the moon and stars tablecloth in front of us.

She folded the bill, put it in her bra, then said to Elora, “I know why you have come.”

“You do?” Elora sounded as intrigued as a child and her innocence almost made me laugh out loud.

“Yes. There are three men who are in love with you.”

Wait. What? Three?

“You are facing danger from a monster whose eyes are very pale, almost white.”

“Aye,” I said, beginnin’ to fear that she might have enough actual talent to see that we were vampire slayers. “We get that a lot.” I was worried that the day was goin’ to take a turn for the worse and wanted to get Elora out of there before the fuckin’ gypsy began predictin’ rivers of blood or some such. I turned to Elora. “Let’s go. This is no’ fun.”

She gave me a look that told me she agreed. We got up to leave and were almost at the door when the gypsy said, “I have a message for the lady.” Elora turned ‘round. “Choose wisely and love will be new for the rest of your days.”

Elora did no’ respond. Just pulled her coat close and nestled against me again to keep the wind from gettin’ between us.

“Okay, so I admit it,” she said. “You were right. Maybe that wasn’t the best idea.”

“You know I do no’ care what we’re doin’ so long as ‘tis with you.”

The way she smiled at me gave me the impression that finally I’d said the right thing.

I never would have believed a person could have so much fun in a store. She wanted to look at evenin’ gowns even though she had nowhere to wear one. She wanted to look at gourmet kitchen tools even though she had no intention of cookin’. It was bizarre. But cute.

We were behind a curvy blonde in “JUICY” pants goin’ up the escalator to the next floor. And when I say behind, I mean there was no’ much to look at but the woman’s behind.

I leaned over and whispered. “We should buy you a pair of those very fetchin’ britches to show off your gorgeous arse.”

She gave me a scandalized look that made me laugh hard, even if it was silently.

As soon as we got off the escalator, she pulled me a few yards away from “JUICY” and said, “First, ugh! Second, as my partner, you can have my permission to put my corpse in those, but only if there will be no open casket viewing. Third…” Though she was makin’ a fair to middlin’ show of a good scoldin’, I could see she was havin’ to work at keepin’ laughter inside. “…you do not have permission to comment on my gorgeous ass.”

I leaned in like the conspirator I wanted to be. “I get it. Over your dead body. You know, scratch the surface and we find your very ladylike upbringin’ still hale and hearty and ready for tea with the queen. But I would no’ be wantin’ anyone else to see your very shapely, juicy arse in those fine britches.”

I stood waitin’ for her reply with a smile born of talk about Elora’s arse. She opened her mouth like she had something else to say, seemed to think better of it, and marched off toward the Ugg boots. I would have loved to know what went through her head that she decided no’ to speak out loud.

“If you buy anything else,” I said, shiftin’ the box of Ugg boots, “we’ll have to ask them to ship.”

“What about the super cool leg warmers?”

“Aye. ‘Tis fine. Those will no’ take up much room.”

“And I really wanted a new hat. I don’t think I look good in raspberry.”

“You’re very wrong. You look spectacular in everything. But if you want another hat, you shall have another hat.”

After nearly an hour of tryin’ on hats, I was regrettin’ havin’ said that. “If you want my opinion, I love the way you look in the white. It reminds me of my special place in Ireland. The one I told you about.”

She looked at me like she was tryin’ to decide if I was jokin’, then went back to where we’d seen the white hat. She put it on and looked in the mirror.

“Get the scarf that goes with it,” I said.

And she did. Which was charmin’.

When we stepped back out on the street it was dark. The wind had died down some, but it felt more damp and, therefore, more frigid. The holiday lights were beautiful at night.

“You promised that I’d get a turn to get a taxi.”

I looked up and down the side street. There was no sign of a cab.

“Okay. First lesson. When you do no’ see a taxi, what do you do?”

“Walk until you see one?”

“Find a busier street.” I pointed. “That way.”

She waved for a cab wearin’ her white hat and scarf. When he swerved to the curb and stopped at her feet, she practically jumped up and down like she’d just scored at rugby.

Inside the car she was breathless from the cold and excitement and could no’ stop talkin’ about Bloomin’dales. It was clearly her favorite thing. I saw the cab driver stealin’ looks at her in the rearview mirror. Maybe because she was animated in a non-New York kind of way. Maybe because she was the world’s most beautiful woman. At least to me.

And two others, I thought with a sour taste.

When we were settled into our seats next to each other on the whister and lifted off, she leaned close and said, “This was the best day of my life.”

If I live to be three hundred, I’m sure I will never hear words sweeter than those. What I wanted to say was, “I do no’ want to be a vampire hunter anymore. I just want to take you home to Ireland where I can keep you safe and love you every second for the rest of our lives. I want to kiss your freckled nose and your rosy cheeks and your beautiful mouth, worship that body that slays me and make love to you over and over until you beg me to stop.” But what I said was, “Me, too.”

Somehow, I hoped to Paddy she heard the rest that was unsaid, but in my heart.

“You know everywhere we went today, people stared at you.”

“You’re so very wrong, my girl. ‘Twas you they were admirin’.”

After havin’ her to myself for the whole day, I found that sayin’ goodnight was even harder than usual, but I managed to let her go.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

“Pleasure was mine.” I handed her the box of boots. “You look beautiful in your new hat and scarf.”

She grinned and closed her door.

The first hour back at work on Tuesday, I got a text from Elora.

Meet me on street level. Now!

I threw down my bar rag and turned to the other bartender. “You’re on your own for ten minutes.”

“Hey!” he said, but I was already gone.

I saw her waitin’ outside the bistro door. “What’s…?”

“Come on,” she said as she started joggin’. She went slow enough to look like somebody from our dimension, just like we’d taught her. “I’ve got to meet Baka and, you know, since you’re my partner…”

I had no reply for that.

The vampire was waitin’ in the same alley where Elora had killed one of his buddies.

“Hey,” she said to him. “What’s up? We’ve got five minutes before we have to start back.”

Baka flicked a glance at me, but spoke to her. “I finished remapping the underground. It’s pretty much the same as it was in the twenties except that somebody has updated the lighting with low energy, storm shelter fixtures. When I reported to your Sovereign yesterday, he ordered me to take E Team on a reconnaissance tour since you had the day off. I told him I thought that was a bad idea. If we were spotted by vampire we’d lose the element of surprise when we need it.

"He said do it anyway. So I took them down for an hour yesterday afternoon. We didn’t encounter vampire, but there are indications that the tunnel system is... in use.”

“You mean you saw signs of remains,” I said and he confirmed that with a nod. I ran my hand down my face. “And why be tellin’ us this then?”

Baka scowled. “Because something about E Team doesn’t feel right." He shook his head. "Hunches are the hardest sort of thing to explain.”

I looked at my watch and touched Elora on the arm. “Gotta go.”

Baka looked between us. “Watch out for the entrance. It’s hidden in the wall at the end of the hallway where the restrooms are.”

“Show us,” Elora said.

When we got back to the basement level, the manager grabbed me. “Hawking, if you want to keep your job for another night, I suggest you get yourself back to the bar now.”

Elora nodded at me to go. I was torn. I needed to keep the job and the cover, but did no’ really want to let her out of my sight with that leech. I reasoned that she had already been alone with him, in and out of captivity. Plus, I had to show her she had my confidence, same as I would give any other partner.

But five minutes later she came rushin’ into the bar with a flush on her face and lips swollen like she’d been makin’ out. It had been a long time since I’d felt a fever rage like the one that came over me. Somebody had touched my mate. Somebody was goin’ to die.

I know I growled at her, but I could no’ help myself.

“What the bloody hel, Elora!”

“Two vampire came in while we were in the hallway. A couple of minutes ago. We’ve got to find them.”

‘Twas no’ the time for vampire huntin’. ‘Twas the time for sortin’ out my mate’s behavior. But the honor of bein’ a Black Swan knight takes precedence over everything else when vampire are on the premises. So I decided to shelve the confrontation for later.

B Team searched all three floors of the club, the restrooms, the kitchen, and the perimeter for three blocks, but did no’ find vampire. The manager threatened to fire us all, but allowed us to finish our shifts. We suspected that Sol would find a way to smooth over our lapse in performance. And, certainly, I had more pressin’ concerns.

We stopped at the lounge to share a drink before turnin’ in. After adrenaline and emotions run high on a hunt, we need a taste to calm down.

“E Team is sittin’ outside by the fire pit. What do you say we join them and find out what they learned from their ‘tour’?”

Kay and I nodded. The four of us converged on the veranda.

Storm spoke to E Team. “How ‘bout we join you?”

“Sure,” they said.

After a few minutes of questions and answers about what they’d seen in the tunnels, Ghost stood up and started toward the Atrium door. “Anybody need anything while I’m up?”

Elora said, “Yeah. My Hot Butter Bacardi should be up if you don’t mind grabbing it.”

“Done,” he said.

Half an hour later, I was feelin’ warmed by whiskey and a little less crazed by my suspicions regardin’ what had happened between Elora and Baka.

“Ram?” Elora’s voice was quiet.

“Hmmm?” I was focused on E Team. It seemed to me that they were bein’ unusually tight-lipped, like they did no’ really want to divulge their impressions, which was odd. Black Swan is a cooperative. That means we cooperate.

“I need help. You’ve got to get me home. Please.” Elora had leaned in to me and whispered with an unmistakable urgency. Then she raised her voice, sayin’ to everybody present, “That’s it for me. Some of us actually work for a living delivering booze to letches and drunks. Have a good night then.”

“Hold on. I’m goin’, too,” I said and gave a general wave goodnight.

As soon as the elevator doors closed, I looked at Elora. “What’s wrong?”

“Not sure, but I’m scared that, I think maybe… aphrodisiac.”

I took her by the shoulders and turned her so I could get a good look at her face. Paddy. Her pupils were dilated like she was a tweaker. “Fuck,” I said as if I could find nothin’ less appropriate to say.

The fear I saw in her beautiful eyes sent a jolt of adrenaline racin’ through my veins, prickin’ every nerve endin’ on its way past. I was lost for what to do. If there was an antedote for aphrodisiac, I certainly did no’ know it. But I had to do something. Her discomfort was becomin’ conspicuous by the way she seemed to be agitated to be in her own body.

“Okay. We’ll figure something out,” I said. ‘Twas meant to be reassurin’, but nothin’ productive was comin’ to me. I wanted to ease the discomfort that was becomin’ more apparent by the minute, but takin’ advantage of the situation was something I would no’ consider.

Her breath was labored by the time we reached her apartment. She stood in front of the door like she could no’ remember the code. I knew it. So I punched it in and looked up and down the hallway to make sure no one saw me go in so late at night. The last thing she needed was gossip and cat calls. Humans were notorious purveyors of both.

I pulled her inside. When I turned from closin’ the door she had dropped her coat on the floor. My mind was goin’ a dozen different directions, tryin’ to light on a solution, but none was comin’.

She grabbed the front of my leather jacket and said, “You’ve got to help me.” Her eyes were wide and wild, castin’ about like a mad woman, but what tore most at my heart was the plea, you’ve got to help me.

“What do you mean?” I said stupidly, knowin’ full well what she meant and tryin’ to stall for an alternative. I’m sure I was lookin’ almost as hysterical, myself.

She pushed at me a little, fistsfuls of leather still in her grip.

“Don’t you dare pretend naïveté with me, Rammel Hawking. You bloody well know what I mean!”

She released me and closed her eyes as if runnin’ her hands down her body gave a slight relief. When her middle finger found its way to her pussy, I began to fear losin’ the battle. My dick was respondin’ to the teasin’ vision with an engorgement like it had never known before and I did no’ know if my desire to be honorable could overpower my body’s interest in a willin’ mate.

“No.” If an elf ever faced a moment of greater frustration, I can no’ imagine what it might have been. “I do no’ want the first time to be like this.”

“Ram!” she shouted, lookin’ on the verge of a full blown panic. “Either help me or get out of the way so I can find somebody else.”

She shoved me aside and started toward the door that had been behind me a moment before. I managed to reclaim my place in front of the door before she opened it and was gone. In the second that took place I’d seen images of my mate out scarin’ up fuck partners. O’course ‘twould no’ be hard for a woman like Elora to find eager candidates. And o’course that was no’ an option.

The reasonable part of me decided that, if there was only one way to ease her affliction, I would serve that purpose even though it was no’ my first choice. I just had to hope that she’d forgive me when the effects of the drug wore off.

“That’s no’ gonna happen!” I matched her tone so she’d know I was completely serious. If she was beddin’ somebody that night, by the gods, ‘twould be me and no other.

“Well then?”

She challenged me to get on with it. Curiously, in that moment, I seemed to forget everything I knew about intimate relations and felt as inexperienced as a backward twelve-year-old. But I knew I wanted to kiss her. I would always want to kiss her. So I would start there.

I took her face in my hands and stepped in, but she was impatient, wantin’ something hard, fast and raw.

I held her firm, no’ lettin’ her wiggle out of my grasp, and said, “Shhhh. Hush now. I’m here. Promise you will forgive me.” She moaned. I gave her a little shake so she’d pay attention. “Say it! Say you’ll forgive me.”

She looked into my eyes long enough to persuade me she was in control of her faculties on some level. She nodded. ‘Twas good enough.

Tellin’ myself I could no’ be a low life cad when I treasured her more than life, I poured my love and cravin’ for her into my kiss, hopin’ she would know on some level that there was so much more to my feelin’s than carnal interest.

For a moment, I thought love might be the cure, and my kiss might overcome the drug’s demon. For a moment, she was quiet and still, but ‘twas the proverbial calm before the storm. She pulled me close enough that I could hardly breathe.

“Ease up. I need to get my breath.”

She loosened her hold and pushed my jacket off my shoulders so that it fell to the floor beside her coat. Then usin’ her mouth to open mine wider, she stole my breath in an altogether different way. Her tongue was tanglin’ with mine in a dance of desperation, when I heard a loud tear.

I pulled back and looked down. She’d ripped the Notte Fuoco tee shirt open from neck to waist. Her hands were runnin’ down my chest and tuggin’ at the waistband of my jeans.

I’d never had a woman attempt to take my clothes from me in such a forceful way before. It was an act so erotically charged that I knew I could no’ pull back if wild horses were tryin’ to drag me out the door. Once I realized that the decision had been made, no turnin’ back, I freed the part of me that I’d been holdin’ in check for what seemed like an eternity and let loose the force of my feelin’s for the woman whose body was demandin’ attention from mine.

I pushed her tank and bra straps down her shoulder until a plump breast popped free. She looked exactly the way I knew she would, creamy skin, rosy pink nipple. She groaned, grippin’ my shoulders and throwin’ her head back when I bent to suck that nipple into my mouth and lave it with my tongue.

I had no’ thought it would be possible to be any harder than I was already, but a throbbin’ impulse was added to the pressure against the crotch of my jeans.

When she reached down, her intention clear as day, I hissed in a breath and angled myself away sayin’, “We can no’ be doin’ that if there’s to be anything left for you.”

Movin’ toward the bedroom, her goin’ backward, me goin’ forward, we tore away all the clothes remainin’ except for cute little short-type panties and knee socks. She looked like a dream and my cock, standin’ so straight it was practically pointin’ at my chin, agreed.

I pulled the coverlets away, leavin’ a bottom sheet. She wasted no time crawlin’ onto the mattress and pullin’ me down with her.

I moved the crotch of the panties aside and brushed her sex with my fingertips. She gasped and came up off the bed like a wanton never before touched, except that my woman was stronger than any other and almost threw me from the bed.

“Easy, darlin’,” was all I said as I pulled the silky drawers down her legs and away from her body.

“Please,” was all she could say.

It was plain by her frantic movements that she was losin’ the battle with any semblance of control. Her eyes pooled with tears that began runnin’ down her face, breakin’ my heart as they ran. I situated myself between the cradle of her thighs and, just as she began to beg in earnest, I thrust inside her.

The intensity of her need drove me to a performance level beyond aspirations. I put my hand on the headboard and stiffened my arm to keep from drivin’ her into the wall. ‘Twas gratifyin’ to see the pained expression leave her face and be replaced with a rapture so perfect that it filled me with emotion, more than I thought possible. ‘Twas overwhelmin’ in every way imaginable.

When her muscles gripped my cock, I let go with a noise that sounded foreign even to me. I lay still, listenin’ to her heart rate mixed with mine, her breath mixed with mine, as both began to slow. I knew I did no’ have to worry about crushin’ her beautiful body with my weight. So I just enjoyed the moment and the realization that “makin’ love” was no’ just a euphemism for fuckin’, but a real thing.

After a few minutes I lifted my head to look in her face. Her eyelids were half closed, but her face bore a little smile as she said, “Ah, Ram. You feel so good.”

I kissed the remainin’ tears away from her face and, for a time, she was peaceful. Satisfied. I thought it was over and was wonderin’ if I should leave or if I stay with her until the morrow. I was mullin’ over the choice when the next surge began. At first it sounded like a low groan in the back of her throat, almost too quiet to hear. Within minutes she’d once again become frantic for relief. I was no’ yet prepared to offer myself. So I rolled away and used my fingers to ease her way, the whole time tellin’ her that I loved her, that I would no’ leave her, that she was perfect in every way, that everything would be alright.

Over the next few hours we experienced variations on love-makin’ that few couples manage in one night and I was thinkin’ I was perhaps the luckiest elf ever born.

Durin’ the minutes when light was first breakin’, a hint of pink and gold risin’ to overtake the gray, I lay facin’ her. Her eyelids were heavy, tryin’ to close. Between that and the peaceful way she was breathing, I knew it was finally over.

Her eyes flew open wide without warnin’, like she’d forgotten something important. With a little smile, she whispered, “Thank you.”

I reached over and cupped the side of her face, rubbin’ the softness of her cheek with my thumb.

“Darlin’ girl,” I said. “These have been the sweetest hours of my life.”

When I woke I was spoonin’ with Elora, her very firm and shapely derriere pressed firmly into my lap. Her body heat was enough to keep us warm without the need for covers. What I would have liked more than anything would have been to leisurely savor the experience of findin’ myself in a naked tangle with the Lady Laiken. But the cause of my wakeful state, Elora’s dog, was becomin’ more insistent about his own needs. Hopin’ for the dog version of an alarm snooze, I turned back to Elora and thought to ignore him for at least a couple more minutes. But the dog was havin’ none of it. He gave me a lick on the behind that caused me to jerk my pelvis into Elora.

She hummed, but did no’ wake.

I gave Blackie the dirtiest look possible. Whether or no’ he took it as such, no one can say. His response was a wag of a bushy tail and a couple of revolutions to the left. The dog always turned to the left. Do no’ ask me why I noticed that, but I had the odd thought that he would no’ be very good at reels.

Risin’ slowly so as no’ to disturb Elora, I pulled the covers over her and could no’ help but smile at the sound of her soft snorin’.

Our clothes, both mine and hers, were left in a messy trail. I got dressed and left Elora’s clothes folded neatly on the chair next to her fireplace. I did no’ think ‘twould be very gentlemanly to pick up my clothes and leave hers on the floor.

Since Blackie was whinin’ like the situation was urgent, I did no’ think it prudent to take the time to go to my place next door and replace the torn shirt with a whole one. So I zipped up my leather jacket and headed for the Courtpark where he could relieve himself and be fawned over by fans.

She was still sleepin’ when we got back. So I filled the dog bowl with what was in the bag and went to leave a note on the bar. After some thought and several false starts, I finally wrote, “Do not be embarrassed. - R.” As an afterthought when my hand was on the door, I came back to the bar and added under what was already written, “Or mad either.” She’d promised to forgive me and Elora was the sort to keep her promises, so I was no’ worried. But just in case.

I closed the door quietly, again makin’ sure no one saw me in the hallway, and headed next door for a shower.

An hour later, feelin’ that all was right with the world, I got off the elevator on our floor with a large hot chocolate for Elora. I let myself in to her place and heard the hair dryer blowin’ away.

I heard the sound stop and saw her head poke out of the bathroom beyond that adjoined her bedroom. I smiled and held up my gift of cocoa.

When she started toward me, I said, “Brought you a hot chocolate,” and held out the cup, but she did no’ take it. I was beginnin’ to get the feelin’ that she was mad.

She grabbed my note from the bar, waved it in the air, and said, “Don’t be embarrassed? Don’t be mad? How could you?”

I dropped my arm and set the cup down on the dinin’ desk.

“I, em…”

“How did I end up drunk, Ram?”

“Drunk?” I repeated strugglin’ to get my bearin’s. It felt like I had come in on the middle of a movie with no clue what was goin’ on.

“I don’t even remember having more than one drink.” I stared at her, wonderin’ where this was goin’ and no’ knowin’ how to respond without hearin’ more first. “You brought me back here, undressed me, and left me in bed naked.”

“Now, wait a minute.” It was just beginnin’ to dawn on me. She did no’ remember a thing about last night. She was accusin’ me of bein’ a pervert who would take advantage of a woman who was too drunk to know what she was doin’. “I did no’ undress you.”

“No? And you didn’t leave my clothes on the chair either.”

I really did no’ want to answer that question because, given that she remembered nothin’, it would beg too many other questions. So I said, “I did bring you back here last night. I did take Blackie out for his walk this mornin’ because you were no’ up to it. And you’re welcome, by the way. I did pick your clothes up where you left them on the floor and I did put them on the chair. You’re welcome for that as well.”

Her features softened as she studied my face and heard the truth in my words, even if it was no’ the whole truth. Great Paddy. What a mess!

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I know there’s nothin’ worse than being accused of something you didn’t do. I just… I’ve never been drunk before. Waking up and not remembering what happened is a new thing.” She glanced toward the bedroom door. “And I don’t like it.”

Normally I would have pointed out that she had none of the symptoms associated with hangovers, but thought it better to keep my thoughts to myself, in that case.

“Happens to the best of us.”

“Well, now I am embarrassed.”

I smiled. “I’ll do my best to make sure it does no’ happen again.”

Criminently. I’d been so caught up in the dramatic events that I’d had no time to ask the most important question, which was, how did she ingest the drug? Who gave it to her? Most importantly, why was she a target?

Normally I would have gone straight to Kay and Storm and asked them for help sortin’ things out, but there was nothin’ normal about the situation. I could no’ go to them without compromisin’ Elora by revealin’ what had happened. And that I would no’ do.

I had to try and figure it out by myself. And fast.

CHAPTER 23

Ram

By the end of the second week workin’ Notte Fuoco, we were startin’ to feel like drinks and bouncin’ were our real jobs. The inevitable had happened, my constant vigilance had lapsed, but as luck would have it, I was facin’ the bar, wipin’ out a glass, when I saw Elora’s head pop up above the crowd. I locked on her location and swung myself up over the bar.

Patrons scrambled to get out of my way, but they were no’ my priority.

When she passed under one of the spots, I saw her unmistakable hair on the way to the restrooms. With a horror I’ll never forget, I saw that she’d placed herself between three vampire and the tunnel entrance Baka told us about. I charged forward reachin’ for my splat gun and findin’ nothin’ there. O’ course I had a splat gun. ‘Twas just that ‘twas stowed under the bar. I did the one thing Black Swan knights can never do. I panicked when I thought my partner might be in trouble

Gods love her. She’d staked one vamp and engaged a second before I reached her. The third pulled a knife, but in the blink of an eye he found me in front of him instead of his target. Elora.

As the Fates would have it, and it seemed they were targetin’ me for their amusement of late, two women chose that moment to come out of the Ladies’ room. ‘Twas the worst timin’ possible.

The vampire did no’ consider his actions. Nor did he have a motive for what he did next. He was simply an evil shadow of whoever he’d been as a human, a lost soul without reason or empathy.

He slashed at the woman closest to him. The knife cut through her jugular, which began to spurt like a macabre fountain, just as her friend started to scream.

There are reasons why Black Swan takes so long to train its knights. One of those is so that a knight will revert to his trainin’ in combat situations without havin’ to rely on instinct. My trainin’ had left me with an automatic response to innocents in danger from vampire. The priority was protection. ‘Twas always the overridin’ mission and, really, the entire point of what we did.

I put myself in front of the woman still standin’, even though I had no weapon with which to protect either the bystander, myself, or Elora. I was hopin’ against hope that my teammates would hear the commotion and arrive in time to intervene. Hope. ‘Tis no’ much compared to weaponry.

When I saw the knife comin’ toward my neck, ‘twas almost as if in slow motion. I shifted my position and turned so that it missed my jugular, but I felt the burn deep in my face travelin’ down my chest to my stomach. I’m no’ sure, but I think my head banged against the wall behind me.

CHAPTER 24

Kay

We were working the lounge section of the Underground. When I say ‘we’, I mean Storm and me. He was on one side. I was on the other, but we were always in eye contact of each other.

The first hint of trouble was when people started leaving the dance floor and moving in the direction of the restrooms. Seeing that, the musicians stopped playing. When they did, we could hear a woman screaming. By that time the crowd was thick and elbow to elbow, drawn by curiosity, morbid or otherwise.

It probably took us three minutes to push, press, and toss folks out of the way so that we could get to the scene of the disturbance. And, well, shit. It was bad.

Ram was down. Elora was on the ground holding his head and saying something to him, but it was clear he wasn’t hearing her or anything else. Looked like a dead vamp behind her and a civilian who, likewise, met death in an ugly way. The kind of ugly that leaves most of a person’s fluids behind.

Storm pointed up. That was all he had to do. We’d been together so long we could almost communicate telepathically and I knew that meant that he was going up to street level to get a signal so he could call in an emergency. No matter what, the cover up was going to be a nightmare for Black Swan.

I jerked my tee shirt off and went to my knees by Ram, stuffing the cotton along the gash. It was long, deep and ugly, but gods knew that Ram was a fighter even before he had a future to fight for. If there was any chance of survival, he’d pull through. I knew that.

Elora was on his other side. She looked up at me and said, “Stay with him. Promise me.”

“What are you doing?” I growled it at her.

“You know what I’m doing, Kay.”

“You are not going after vampire alone. Geez, you are a dumb ass! What’s the first rule?”

“I’m not going alone. Baka is going with me.”

I watched her look over her right shoulder and saw that Baka was standing there, looking grim as the Reaper himself. He nodded.

What. The. Hel.

I looked from her to him. I couldn’t stop her. There was no point trying. She knew it. I knew it. “Storm is going to seizure when he finds out.”

She glanced down at Ram and said, “Keep him alive.”

She obviously didn’t know how I felt about Rammel or she would not have said such a thing to me. I’d kick in the gates of hel to bring him back if that’s what it took. I didn’t answer her, but she must have recognized something in my face because I saw both understanding and satisfaction register on her face. Just before she left. With Istvan Baka right behind her.

What a night.

When I’d said Storm would seizure about Elora running down vampire, with Baka no less, it turned out to be an understatement. If it had been anybody else besides Rammel, he would have left them on the ground and gone after her sooner.

It took the med van twenty-three minutes to arrive. According to Storm’s instructions, D Team, who was technically off duty, arrived to manage the scene. They also brought everything Storm asked for: vests with cargo pockets and a black bag full of arms already loaded with wood core bullets. I guessed we were dispensing with splats.

Ten minutes in we came across Baka, pulled the dart out of him and he sat up like the undead waking in a bad vampire movie. First thing he said was, “Gautier Nibelung.” I exchanged a look with Storm. In a way it was shocking to the bone to find out that a knight might be capable of turning on Black Swan. On the other hand, I’d always felt there was something off with Ghost. “We won’t find her by ourselves. Too many possibilities.”

Well. He should know, I thought.

CHAPTER 25

Ram

The first time I woke up, the lummoxes were tryin’ to force a needle into a vein and botchin’ the job. At first I did no’ know what was happenin’ and then I remembered that the last thing I saw was Elora tryin’ to stake a leech without bein’ touched by fangs. ‘Tis trickier than it may sound to the uninitiated.

O’ course the only appropriate reaction on my part was hysteria. I tried to get up, but something was wrong with my body. There was a medic bendin’ over me with blood all over his blue scrubs. He was yellin’ at somebody. Sayin’, “Hold him down until the sedative kicks in.”

Then Fortnight and Cheng from D Team were on either side of me pressin’ me into the ground so that I could no’ move. I looked in Cheng’s eyes and said, “Elora.”

“Just rest, Ram,” was all he said. I made a mental note to punch the fucker out the first chance I got.

The next time I touched consciousness, my first thought was knowin’ where I was because of the smell of the place. The infirmary had an antiseptic smell like no other. The next sensation that followed the smell was pain. Great Paddy.

I was tryin’ to open my eyes and managed to pry them open a slit. I heard loud voices out in the hall and thought I heard one of them shout something about Lady Laiken. If you’ve ever wondered what’s worse, horrible pain or horrible fear, let me settle the question. Horrible fear is worse. I was tryin’ to get my mouth to form words so I could ask what was goin’ on, when I saw a blurry shape by the bed.

“His heart rate is escalating and we can’t have that in his condition. I’m going to sedate him so he’ll go back to sleep.”

In my mind I was shoutin’, “NO!” But no one knew it and within seconds I was asleep again.

The third time I woke it was as if no time had passed since I was insistin’ that I no’ be rendered helpless by drugs. There’s no worse feelin’ in the world than helplessness. I’ll take pain any day.

I had come to enough for my heart to go straight into overdrive.

When I tried to sit up, I felt a nurse pressin’ my shoulders back to the bed. “Sir Hawking, you’ve been hurt. You need to try to remain calm so as not to tear your stitches.”

To someone else in the room she said, “Baxter. Get the doctor.”

I fought to get my eyes all the way open, but everything was a blur. “Elora,” I said, but it sounded more like a croak than a name.

I tried again and managed something more intelligible. “Elora.”

I saw two nurses look at each other and knew something was wrong. That was when I decided I was gettin’ up. If they were no’ goin’ to answer my questions, I would be gettin’ my own answers.

Two nurses are no’ much of a match for a Black Swan knight, no’ even when he has a concussion and one hundred forty-three stitches. They were attemptin’ to restrain me physically while beggin’ me to stay in the bed, when one of the doctors burst through the door.

I stopped to give the woman a chance to tell me what I needed to know. I repeated, “Elora,” to the newcomer.

“Sir Hawking,” she began, “your partner has been injured. She is alive and nearby. You can be sure that we’re taking very good care of her. And, just like you, she needs to rest. You’ve got a concussion and a hundred forty-three stitches to take care of. So I need to insist on your cooperation.”

“See her.” I pulled the I.V. out of my hand and swung my legs over the side of the bed even though it almost made me scream.

“Stop!” said Doc Lately. I ignored her. “If you don’t stop, we will sedate you,” she said.

The pain was pullin’ me further out of my woozy state, which was good and bad. The good part was that I was able to think, sort of. The bad part was that my body hurt like a motherfucker.

I gave the woman a look that stopped her in her tracks and simply said, “Try.” ‘Twould take more than an inordinately long education and crisp white clothes to stop me from gettin’ a status report on my partner. Especially since my partner also happened to be my mate.

“Hold on. We’re both reasonable people…”

“Speak for yourself,” I said.

“I’m sure we can come to an agreement that will satisfy you.”

“I’m no’ negotiatin’ whether or no’ I see Lady Laiken with my own two eyes.”

“Okay. If you will agree to let us reattach your IV, and you will sit in a wheelchair, I will personally take you to her room and let you see her for yourself.”

I thought about it. Like she said, ‘twas a reasonable plan and I was startin’ to relax since my fears that Elora might be dead had been put to rest.

“Get this catheter off me and I’ll agree.”

“Very well,” she nodded.

Five minutes later the doc was pushin’ me down the hall to the last room on the right. She stepped on a lever and the door quietly swished open. The lights were dimmed and the covers were pulled up to her clavical, but the heart machine was beepin’ a steady reassurin’ sound and she was breathing on her own.

The doc said, “I’ll leave you here for five minutes. Then I’ll be back.”

After a few minutes I heard the door swish open behind me.

“What happened?” I asked the nurse or doctor standin’ behind me without tryin’ to turn ‘round. “Do you know?”

But ‘twas no’ a nurse or doctor who answered. ‘Twas Storm’s voice quietly tellin’ someone, “We’ll take it from here.”

He came behind me and started to turn me ‘round. “No,” I said. I want to stay here.

Storm and Kay stood in front of me.

Kay said, “You want to know what happened? We’re going to tell you, but not in front of her. She had a bad time of it and we don’t want to take a chance on having her overhear the replay.”

I understood what he was sayin’, but did no’ like the choice.

“Rammel,” Storm said. “She’s alive. You’re alive and you’re both going to be okay. Let them do their job.”

I looked back at Elora, even though twistin’ my body was mightily uncomfortable, and said, “Aye. I want to hear what took place.”

When we got back to my room, they refused to say more until I climbed back into bed. Fuckers.

I remained quiet and let the two of them tell the story in their own way, in their own time. It was painful to hear, but necessary.

My mind was grapplin’ to take it all in, but my body was failin’ me and I was losin’ the fight with the sleepy medicine still in my system. Well, for all I knew, they were still pumpin’ me performance reduction drugs through the IV. Medics can be sneaky little liars. But I processed the big picture and it was this.

The incident had stopped just a pubic hair short of my worst fear about Elora huntin’ vampire. And it happened within just two weeks of her induction. The only thing keepin’ it from bein’ my terrifyin’ scenario full blown was the fact that she was breathing, still hangin’ onto life a couple doors down the hall. But from the sound of it, she’d had a pretty rough go and might need some psych recovery.

It had never occurred to me that something could happen to make me think about quittin’ The Order, but right then, I was thinkin’ that, if I could convince Elora, I’d take her, walk away, and no’ look back.

What I said to my teammates was, “So the biggest monster turned out to be one of us. There must be some kind of lesson in that.”

“Yeah,” Storm said quietly. “I think it’s time for you to catch a little nappy.”

“She did no’ contract the virus.” I was no’ sure if ‘twas a statement or a question, more a request for confirmation really. “Even though she was bitten.”

“No,” Storm shook his head. “She didn’t.”

He started to move the wheelchair out. That woke me up. “Leave the chair,” I said.

“You don’t need to be galavanting about in a wheelchair. What was that the doc said?” He turned to Kay. “A concussion and a hundred and…?”

“Forty-three,” Kay said.

“Forty-three stitches.”

“If you want me to sleep, leave the chair,” I gritted out.

“Of all the stubborn…”

“You better watch out, Storm,” I said. “You’re on the verge of surpassin’ my reputation for cursin’.”

He pressed his lips together, but left the chair by the bed so that I could reach out and touch it. “Fine. Here’s your binky.”

Kay reached over and pulled the covers up to my chin. I swatted at his hand. “Get away from me, arsewipe.”

Kay chuckled and turned to Storm. “How can we tell if there was permanent brain damage? I mean, it’s Ram.”

I opened my mouth to say something else untoward, but Storm spoke first.

“Okay, Rammel, rest and take care of yourself,” he said. “It’s report time for us.” Kay stepped out into the hall, but Storm turned at the door to voice one last thought. “Looks like you’re a hero. Again. Your legend is starting to get out of hand, growing to epic proportions.”

My eyelids were refusin’ to stay all the way open, but I remembered to ask about Elora’s dog. “Who’s takin’ care of Blackie?”

“He’s with Sanction. You know,” Storm hesitated before finishin’ the sentence, “if it wasn’t for that dog, we wouldn’t have found her in time.”

I think I said, “Good dog,” but can no’ be sure. I lost consciousness or went to sleep. I’m no’ sure if there’s a difference.

The next time I woke, ‘twas to the smell of bacon. I cracked an eye open. Sunlight was streamin’ through the window blinds and makin’ a pattern across the floor. Somebody had moved the wheelchair and put a tray with breakfast in its place. I swore that the knife wound hurt more than it had the day before, if that was possible. All of a sudden I had a desire to see what it looked like.

Lookin’ past the plate of eggs, bacon, biscuits, and hashbrowns with onions and green peppers - someone had made them the way I like, Storm was standin’ there starin’ at me.

“Wakey. Wakey, biscuits flakey,” he said.

I stared at him, wonderin’ if there was a part of him that was enjoyin’ my pain and infirmity. I started to sit up, but the pain made me gasp and freeze in place.

Storm shoved the food tray aside and grabbed my arm to stabilize me and help me sit upright. “Almighty Woden. You look even paler than usual.”

“Fuck. You,” I managed.

He chuckled. “Good to know some things are still working.”

“Elora,” I said.

“Let’s get you into a comfortable position so you can eat breakfast and I’ll give you the rundown. I just got the full report from her doc.”

“Tell me now.”

“You’re not in a position to be demanding.”

“Is she okay?”

“Okay might be an assessment too far. I feel comfortable saying she’s embracing recovery.”

“Bathroom,” I said.

He came to the side of the bed, crooked his arm, and made it stiff. “When did you get to be such a nursemaid?” I asked, then wanted to slap myself in the face when I realized what I’d just asked.

“Elora was in even worse shape when she was here before.” That was all he said and I was glad he didn’t elaborate on the months he’d spent helpin’ her while I was actin’ the fool.

Once my body absorbed the initial shock of standin’ upright, I was able to get to the bathroom on my own, although any garden slug could have easily beat me there if he’d a mind to.

While I was in there, I took a look in the mirror. Great Paddy. My face was bad enough and swollen on the side with the knife wound. But ‘twas no’ so bad compared to the rest. I was no’ goin’ to be invited to do shirtless pin up posters any time soon. If ever. No’ that I had been asked for such a thing in the past, but you never know. Just sayin’.

I hoped that there was more to me than my looks because I still had my mind set on makin’ a certain red-and-pink-haired woman fall in love with me. I wondered if that stuff Monq gave Elora to make her skin heal without scarrin’ would work on me.

It seemed like hours later when I was situated sittin’ up and nibblin’ at bacon. By that time, Kay had come in carryin’ a big steamin’ coffee from the Hub.

“…no internal damage or broken bones.” Storm was givin’ me the rundown. “Her red blood cells are restored to normal. Her white blood cell count’s high and they’re watching it. Some of the lacerations required stitches. Normally there would be scarring, but they already know Monq’s regenerative skin salve works on her, so, based on her recovery pattern from before, they think she’ll be good as new in a few weeks. Maybe sooner.

“They’re giving her sedative to keep her sleeping for another day. And that’s about it.”

“Has she said anything?”

Storm shook his head. “Nope. She’s been out of it since we pulled her out of that cell.”

I winced when he said it. I might no’ have been there, but my mind filled in the spaces with imagery. I can no’ say how accurate ‘twas, whether ‘twas more or less horrific than what had actually taken place, but what I saw in my head was more gruesome than I could stomach. I pushed the tray of food away.

“Kay,” I said, “I’d be askin’ you a favor if you please.”

He did no’ ask what. He just nodded as if to say the answer would always be o’ course.

“Will ye go to Elora’s apartment and hunt up her collection of…” ‘Twas hard for me to say it, “…fairy tales. They’re in a lace-up folder. She typed ‘em from memory.”

“I’ll need to go to Operations and get somebody to let me in.”

“The code is ‘never’.”

Storm cocked his head and gave me a strange look. I do no’ know if that was because he was surprised I had the code or because he was curious why she chose ‘never’. But he said nothin’ about it either way. I do no’ know if he also had the code. Judgin’ from his expression, I’m guessin’ no’. Paddy help me. In spite of his kindness, I was feelin’ smug about that.

When Kay was gone, Storm said, “Why do you want the stories?”

“I have this theory that people show you what they need by the way they treat other people. When Touchstone was in recovery… you remember?” Storm nodded. “She used to come to his room after dinner and read him her stories.”

“She did?”

“Aye. She did.”

“You think they’re goin’ to let you do that?”

I looked at Storm. “You think they can stop me?”

“I think after last night they’ve ordered a stock of elephant darts just for you.”

My gut pulled tight in a laugh which quickly turned to screamin’-out-loud pain. My hand reached for my middle, but just in time, I realized I couldn’t put pressure on the stitches. Storm was laughin’, enjoyin’ the whole thing more than he should’ve.

“Do no’ make me laugh or I will kick your arse when I’m out of here.”

Storm could be odd at times and it seemed that was one of them. My declaration only served to make him laugh harder.

When Kay returned with the satchel of stories, I thanked him and he said, “Okay. Need anything else?”

“Well, I was wonderin’ if Monq would share some of that miracle skin-fix with a humble knight.”

Kay smiled. “What’s the matter, pretty boy? Women like scars.” When he did no’ get a reaction from me, he said, “Yeah. I’ll ask Monq about a special spa day for your beauty treatment.”

They got up to leave. Storm said, “They’re hoping you give them a reason to use the new elephant darts.”

“Oh, aye. Very funny.”

As soon as I was sure they had left the part of the buildin’ designated as infirmary, I got myself into the wheelchair, put the stories in my lap and wheeled over to Elora’s room. As luck would have it, no one was at the nurses’ station or in the hall or in her room.

I rolled up next to the bed to get a good look. She looked pale, but I reveled in the comfort of hearin’ the heart rate monitor. Steady as she goes. I unlaced the big folder and removed the first story, stapled together. I smiled at the small drops of cocoa near the bottom of the first page. And I began to read out loud.

She loved those stupid stories, but more importantly, I knew she might be aware on some level that there was someone here waitin’ for her, hopin’ she’d hear the sound of my voice and come back to me soon.

I was halfway through “Rapunzel”, my throat feelin’ parched and needin’ a wettin’, when a nurse came in to check Elora’s IV and vital signs. When she saw me, her usual business-like rush faltered for a step, but ‘twas no’ long before the requisite bossy-nurse persona was back in place.

“Sir Hawking, does the doctor know you’re in here instead of in your own bed? Where you’re supposed to be?”

“I’m no’ supposed to be in bed.”

“You’re not?”

“No. I’m supposed to be here readin’ stories to the Lady Laiken.”

“Hmmm,” she grumbled. “I’m not sure you and your doctor are in agreement on that.”

“Nevertheless, ‘tis the case. And if ‘twould no’ trouble you overmuch, I would appreciate some water.” She eyed me like she did no’ quite know what to make of me. “And a bottle of Irish whiskey.”

“Whiskey,” she repeated.

“Aye. They have the kind I like in the bar on the top shelf. ‘Tis called Redbreast. Just tell them ‘tis for me and they’ll give you no trouble.”

“The idiots in the bar might offer no trouble, but I assure you that I would have a world of trouble with your doctor should I comply with such a ridiculous request.”

After a few seconds of starin’ at each other, her makin’ as mean a face as has ever been seen on a woman, I said, “Just the water then.”

Her chin came up as she was apparently finished with checkin’ boxes on her little clickey tablet. “We’ll see.”

When she left, I wondered if she was goin’ to get the doctor or the elephant gun, but I had no’ long to wait to find out. Within a couple of minutes she was back with the doc. The same vaguely Asian-lookin’ woman who’d tried to overpower me the night before.

“Sir Hawking,” she said, “ still causing trouble, I see.”

“’Tis far from the truth. I’m sittin’ here mindin’ my own business, readin’ stories to my partner. What’s the harm in that?”

“The harm is not to your partner or the staff or The Order or Jefferson Unit or any other thing under the sun other than you. You are harming you. And as the extraordinarily valuable asset you apparently are, we simply cannot allow that to continue.”

‘Twas startin’ to resemble the sorts of lectures I used to get from my father, who wrote the book on lectures. If I would no’ stand for it from him, I certainly never saw the day when a slip of a medic would tell me where to be and what to do.

“I’m stayin’ here.”

“You are not.”

“I am.”

“I will simply have you carried out.”

“To keep me from hurtin’ myself? Just imagine how many stitches I could bust fightin’ off orderlies. More important, imagine how much damage I’ll do to the poor fellas you send for me.”

The uncertainty was plain on her face as she looked me over. “I need you back in bed. What’s it going to take?”

I looked at Elora’s sleepin’ form, then back at the doc. “Bring the bed in here. I’ll get in it and stay.”

She crossed her arms in front of her, pursed her lips, looked at Nurse Mean Face, and tapped her foot before sayin’, “I have your word on that?”

I smiled before realizin’ that smilin’ hurt the stitches on my face. “Aye. You have my word. Now about the whiskey.”

“No whiskey,” she said flatly and I surmised that I should be content with the battle won. I could always ask Kay for it when next I saw him. For a berserker, and a big one at that, Kay was a softie at heart.

“Water.”

“Water we can do. In fact we encourage it.”

“See there. We agree. That was no’ so hard.”

She smiled and I realized that perhaps I could still be charmin’ even with a jagged scar runnin’ down my face. I nodded at her to convey my easy-goin’ good naturedness.

When the bed was rolled in, I sat down on the side, drank half a pitcher of water, then with great care and a world of hurt, settled myself back to resume the tellin’ of Elora’s tales.

I can no’ say when I went to sleep, but someone had taken the pages from my hands durin’ the night. As soon as I remembered where I was and why I was there, I turned my head to make sure Elora was alright.

What I saw lookin’ back at me dumped the chill of ice water into my veins, but I drew on every bit of discipline The Order had taught me to control my expression and no’ show my true feelin’s on my face. Elora’s irises were so pale they were almost without color.

More than any person has ever wanted anything, I needed to believe the creature starin’ at me was still Elora Laiken. Everything I knew to be true about vampire told me she was gone, replaced by a mindless creature with no trace of herself left. But the fact that she was lyin’ quietly gave me enough hope to venture a test in the form of conversation. If she could have a dialogue, she was still in there.

“Hey,” I said quietly.

She swallowed, then whispered, “Hey,” in a ragged voice. “Are we alive?”

I was so relieved I wanted to sink to the floor, get on my knees, and thank Paddy, all the while sobbin’ for joy. But that would no’ be in the best interest of the crystalline-eyed beauty lyin’ next to me.

So instead, I said, “Seems we are destined to die of old age, you and I.”

“What fun would that be?”

I opened my mouth to speak, but felt a burnin’ behind my eyes and my vocal chords did no’ seem to care to respond. After several tries, I was finally able to get out a single syllable answer.

“Lots,” was what I said. And I’d never meant anything more. A few weeks before I had no’ especially cared how long I lived. Now I was findin’ myself wantin’ every minute I could get with my mate. Old age? Aye and aye again.

I swung my legs toward Elora, sat up and slid off the bed.

I heard her quick intake of breath and looked up. “Rammel. Oh, gods no, Ram! What’s wrong with your face?”

“Well,” I said, thinkin’ that my face was the least of our problems, “I guess I’m no’ so pretty anymore.”

Something came over her face that was hard to read, but that was quickly followed by tears that ran from her eyes and fell on the pillow, breakin’ my heart in their trail.

“Let me see,” she said.

I was no’ sure if ‘twas the best thing, but I did no’ have a good enough reason to say no. So I opened the blue cotton gown and let her see the jagged path of the knife, made even uglier by the ‘cure’ of stitches.

The way she looked at my body made me almost want to cry with her. I retied the gown and looked down, feelin’ a little bit ashamed of the ugliness.

“Yes. You are, Ram - so pretty.” Her beautiful bottom lip trembled as she battled catches in her breath that sounded like a series of little sobs. “Beautiful inside and out.”

That made a whole new lump form in my throat, bigger than the last. I could no’ stand her tears.

“Please do no’ weep, Elora. Great Paddy, you will make me bawl as well.”

I stepped closer so I could stand next to her bed, reached out and brushed tears away with my thumb. I hated seein’ her cry and did no’ want it to become a habit.

“I’ll be right back.” I shoved my feet into the hospital-issue slippers they’d left for me because the bare floor was cold and shuffled my way to the door. I looked back once just to make sure that I was no’ imaginin’ what I was seein’. So far as I knew, there had never been a case of someone bein’ infected by the vampire virus and keepin’ their wits about them. It seemed everything about Elora Laiken was new territory.

When I approached the nurses’ station, they looked up surprised, and started to say something. I held up my hand to stop them, leaned over as far as possible without reinjurin’ myself and said quietly, “Get the docs on duty here right now. Be quick about it and quiet as you can be.”

One of the nurses jumped up, sendin’ her wheeled office chair careenin’ into a file cabinet, and hurried off to find the duty docs.

‘Twas then I caught sight out of the corner of my eye of someone about to enter Elora’s room. I gave myself a burst of speed without regard to consequences or pain, caught the nurse by the arm and jerked her back before she’d got the door open. She cried out, either in surprise or pain. I may have wrenched her hard enough to bruise, but I could no’ let anyone in that room before they were prepared for what they’d see.

“No one goes into her room until I’ve talked to the doctors.”

The nurse rubbed her arm with wide eyes and backed away just as the two on-duty doctors arrived.

The first said, “Sir Hawking, why are you out of bed? What is the emergency?”

The second, seein’ the look on the nurse’s face who’d been manhandled by me, said, “Now look here. You have simply got to stop terrorizing the staff.”

I pulled them toward the wall, then lookin’ at the nurse, I said, “I need to speak with the doctors privately.”

The second doc raised an eyebrow, but nodded at the nurse which was, apparently code for, “You’re dismissed.”

“You need to keep your voices and your reactions quiet and controlled. Something is wrong with Lady Laiken. I want you to look at her, but I’m callin’ Monq in and whatever he says goes.” I hesitated to say the problem out loud, probably Irish superstition in my blood. “Her eyes have gone… pale.

"Be sure that you do no’ show surprise when you see her. She does no’ know anything is wrong and I do no’ want her alarmed in any way.” I nodded at the nurses’ station. “And make sure that every person in this fuckin’ place knows that no one else is to enter this room other than her doctors, Monq, Sir Storm, Sir Caelian, or me. No’ unless I say so.”

I called Storm from the nurses’ phone. I do no’ know what they’d done with my phone. I did no’ tell him what had happened, only that he needed to show up on the double and that he needed to bring Kay with him.

Then I called the Operations Office and, thank the gods for small favors, got Farnsworth.

“I need the biggest bouquet of stargazer lilies, Mexican red roses, and tree fern that can be reasonably accommodated in a hospital room.”

“Stargazers have a powerful aroma that isn’t appreciated by everyone. Are you sure?”

“Aye. ‘Tis what I need. Cost is no’ a consideration, but time is. I need them delivered to the Lady Laiken’s room in the infirmary as fast as possible.”

“Very well, Sir Hawking. And everyone is sorry to hear about your partner.”

“Thank you. Oh, and no baby’s breath.”

“Do you want a card included?”

My brain drew a blank for a few seconds and then it came to me like it flashed across a marquee. My intention to say it plain and true went awry when my voice cracked, but I held it together long enough to get it out.

“Proud to be your partner,” I said.

One of Monq’s staff answered his phone. “This is Sir Hawking. I need him on the phone right now.”

When he answered, I said, “Come to the infirmary right away. Whatever you’re workin’ on is no' as important as this. Hurry. Please.”

The doctors had come from Elora’s room lookin’ both grim and perplexed. As I put down the phone, I had the curious sense that the room shifted.

I heard one of the docs said, “Elsbeth, get a wheelchair. Fast!”

I felt an arm go ‘round my waist to keep me from fallin’ and I could hear the man was strugglin’ something fierce to hold me up. By the time I was seated in the chair, he was wheezin’. I tried no’ to be judgmental about his lack of condition, since he was takin’ himself to task to help me out and all. Right is right.

I was waitin’ in the conference room across the hall from Elora’s room where I could keep an eye on things when Monq rushed in.

“What’s the matter?” he said, out of breath.

“Elora was bitten by vampire.”

“I know,” he said. “But she survived it.”

“She did,” I agreed. “But she woke this mornin’ with pale irises.”

“Oh,” Monq said. He sat down lookin’ from me to the two doctors. “What is your assessment?”

“So far as we can tell, everything is perfectly normal. I mean, given the extent of her injuries. Except for her eyes. She has a slightly elevated temperature, one degree off her baseline physiology. Other than that…”

“I see.” Monq looked worried. He turned back to me. “Let me have a look.”

“Do no’ upset her,” I warned.

“She hasn’t been told.”

“No. And I do no’ want her to know. She needs time to heal.”

Monq stood, turned my wheelchair and pushed me toward Elora’s room. When he wheeled me in, I said, “Look who I found outside.”

“Good afternoon, Ms. Laiken.”

“Lady Laiken.” I corrected him. He waved me off like I was bein’ pedantic, which I resented a bit. I mean Black Swan knights make a lot of sacrifices to do what we do. Aye. We have some nice perks, but we deserve every one of them, includin’ the respect that goes along with the title.

Even though I knew what to expect, I was almost struck dumb all over again when Elora opened her eyes. I would have sold my soul into bondage for the remainder of eternity to see the beauty of turquoise residin’ there instead.

“Hi,” she replied with a little smile. “You gonna tell me what happened, Monq?”

“I think that can be arranged. Let me take a look around first.” He reached for her face and she slapped his hand away. “My dear, in addition to the other bullet points outlined on my rather phenomenal resume, I am a medical doctor. My interest in you is purely clinical.”

She looked at me with a question on her face. I nodded and said, “Aye, lass. Let him have a look ‘round. ‘Tis just a formality, but we need him to sign off.”

Without waitin’ for a response, I turned the chair around and headed for the door. Monq was no’ the first guy I’d invite to a party, but he was the first guy I’d ask to save my mate from, well, whatever was wrong.

Ten minutes later, Monq stepped out into the hall. “Every single one of my staff and I will stop what we’re doing and put the entirety of our focus to bear on sorting this out.

“I’m sending a nurse in to draw blood and give her some pain medication. After that, well, I’ll let you know as soon as there’s something to tell. She needs to be kept as quiet as possible. Rest can only do her good, but she’s probably not going to settle down until somebody fills in the blanks. I told her you would come back in and answer her questions.”

“Aye. Alright. Would you ask the nurses to find my phone?”

“I will,” he said as he held the door open for me to wheel myself back in.

I saw Storm and Kay comin’ through the infirmary doors. I nodded toward them. “Take care of that, will you?”

Monq looked at my teammates and nodded.

When the door swished closed behind me, Elora said, “Come sit down and tell me what happened. I’ve waited long enough.”

“They’re comin’ back in to pull some blood from ye. After that we’ll have a nice long chat.”

Elora’s friend, Elsbeth, was the one who came through the door carryin’ a tray of apparatus.

“What do you need blood for?” Elora wanted to know.

“Routine tests.” Elsbeth was so nonchalant about Elora’s eyes. I took that to mean that either she was a very good friend who cared about my girl or a passable actress. “You hungry?”

“No.”

As she was pullin’ blood into her little tubes, she said, “Your doctors say you can have anything you want. Hot chocolate? Brownies? Hot fudge sundae?” she taunted.

“No. Thank you though.”

“Okay,” Elsbeth smiled. “All done. If you change your mind about food, just use the call button.” She patted Elora on the arm.

“Okay.”

After Elsbeth pulled the door closed behind her there were no excuses left why Elora should no’ hear what had happened. I pulled myself out of the wheelchair and sat on the side of my bed. Elsbeth had helped her roll onto her side so that her body was facin’ toward me.

“Let’s start with what you remember.”

She blinked a few times. “After I was sure that Kay had you and there was nothin’ more I could do, Baka and I started after the vamps. We were about ten minutes into the tunnel when I realized he wasn’t with me anymore. I turned around. His face was frozen in the strangest expression… I started back to see what was wrong and then he fell to the ground. When he went down, I saw Ghost standing behind him holding a dart that was aimed at me. I thought maybe I could outrun it.” She tried to lift a shoulder to shrug, but the movement was tiny. “There wasn’t anything else to try. I knew he’d pin me before I could get a stake out of my boot. And the gel in the pistol wouldn’t have any effect on him.

“I felt the hit pretty soon after I started sprinting away. I remember regretting going back for Baka because the last thing I thought was that I didn’t want you to have to go through losing another partner, especially after the fuss I made about protecting you.” She reached up to wipe a single tear away. “Stupid, wasn’t it? That’s all.”

I could no’ take hearin’ her chastise herself. “None of us ever know how we’ll behave in a given situation, but I suspect that any of us could have, would have, made the same choices.”

She looked grateful, but said nothin’ else. “Whatever I add is second hand because I was no’ there. I’m repeatin’ what was told me by Kay and Storm.”

I covered Baka’s plan to bury the nest and destroy the hidey holes in one stroke.

“O’ course everybody’s priority was you, gettin’ you out alive. Baka insisted that there was no’ enough time for standard search procedure. He remembered that you had asked for his shirt to train Blackie for trackin’ vampire. Storm thought it might be a long shot, but he got Sanction to bring Blackie and a shirt from your hamper. The dog, Elora - your dog - was nothin’ less than amazin’. They said they could no’ have found you in time without him.”

Big tears starting running down her face again. “Come now, darlin’. You know everything turned out right ‘cause here you are. Alive to hear the tale. But you should give that dog steaks and kale for a month. Maybe a year.” She smiled and nodded, again swipin’ at tears.

"Anyway, Blackie led Storm, Kay, Sanction and Baka straight to you.” I hesitated before goin’ on, no’ sure that tellin’ her the whole story was the best thing, but unable to withhold at the same time. “Ghost left you shackled and locked away for two hungry vampire. You were bitten.”

Elora stared at me for a full minute like she was waitin’ for a shoe to drop. Suddenly her face contorted. She drew in a ragged gasp and looked at me with wild eyes. “Vampire…”

She choked and tried to sit up. I stood as fast as my body would allow, stepped to the bed and found the controls to the built in motor so I could raise the back of her bed to a sittin’ position.

“They were touching me,” she said with a shudderin’ breath and a look of vulnerability that simply leveled me, “and…" For a few seconds her face froze into a silent cry of horror. “...biting.” She looked down and began frantically shovin’ the bed covers away. I realized what she was doin’. She wanted to see the evidence of what had been done to her.

“No!” My first instinct was to grab her wrists and restrain her, but then thought better of it and let go. No’ that I would have been able to restrain her, even when at my best. And eventually she would have to see.

All modesty forgotten, she pulled the hospital gown up and away so that she could see her legs and abdomen. If seein’ her terror acted out in front of me was no’ enough, seein’ her beautiful body torn and savaged was more than I could take. I wanted to scream, cry, and tear the infirmary apart. I wanted to hurt my teammates for killin’ Nibelung before I had a chance at him myself.

Worst of all was Elora’s reaction to seein’ the red, swollen bites, gouges, and slashes. She looked at me with a vulnerability I shall never forget, pulled the gown down, and wept.

I wanted so badly to do something to comfort her, but knew nothin’ about what humans need at such times. Instinct led me to pull myself onto her bed, no’ carin’ if I damaged stitches. I took her in my arms and held tight while she sobbed.

After a long time she quieted and let herself fall away from my chest and back on the pillow. Lookin’ up at me with those eerie white eyes, puffy, and rimmed with red, she said, “I guess I’m the one who’s not so pretty anymore.”

I wished I could open her heart to mine so she would know that what I saw was the most precious thing in the universe. “You could no’ be more beautiful, inside and out.”

She sniffled and I knew she had no’ really heard me.

“There was nothin’ I could do, Ram.” She took a tissue from me and held it to her nose for a minute. “It got so cold. I was shivering. The cold was worse than the pain.”

“’Twas probably loss of blood.” I ran my hand over her head as I had done the first night I saw her hair cut short. “But, ‘tis over now, you know. Soon you’re goin’ to be good as new.” I hoped to Paddy that was no’ a lie.

“For a person who never cried until I came here, it seems like I’ve been doing it a lot.”

“Aye. We’re goin’ to be changin’ that.”

Elsbeth came in to check on us ‘round noon and tsked at me.

“Sir Hawking. Everyone on the floor is aware of the agreement you made with Dr. Lao. There was no provision for sharing a bed. That’s why your own bed was brought in here.”

“You made a deal to share a room with me?”

“Aye.” I gently moved away from Elora. “When you’re right, you’re right, nurse.”

“Oh, now look at that.” I followed her line of vision down to my gown. Sure enough there were bloodstains oozin’ from the stitches I had stretched. “You’ve been a very bad boy.”

“Do no’ make me laugh, nurse.”

“I’m not trying to make you laugh, Sir Hawking. I’m trying to make you behave. Lie back and let me have a look at what you’ve done.”

She told on me to the doctor, who gave instructions on cleanin’ the wounds and gave me a right proper lecture. My teammates arrived at the tail end of that and enjoyed hearin’ me dressed down.

Kay brought the flowers in with him, set them down on the rollin’ table at the end of Elora’s bed, and handed her the card.

Without lookin’ at the card, she turned to me and said, “Rammel, it’s the most beautiful bouquet in the history of flowers.” She read the card and then started cryin’ all over again.

At that point I was too tired to pick my head up off the pillow. All I could manage was to say, “For Great Paddy’s sake, woman, you can no’ possibly have any more tears in there to shed. Will someone please have mercy on me and put a bit of chocolate in her pretty mouth?”

That made her laugh, which apparently hurt and made her laugh all the more, but her three teammates collectively breathed a sigh of relief. After all, there was no such thing as a vampire who laughed. And even as I said that to myself, I was rememberin’ Baka’s joyful laughter in that alley the night Elora had taken her first kill.

Storm and Kay came back at dinner time with food for the four of us. They thought we should eat together, as we usually did. ‘Twas thoughtful, but Elora still wasn’t hungry. That was worrisome, but I knew she was getting nourishment from the I.V. I never could have imagined a scenario in which I’d be thankful for damn needles.

We chatted quietly about the talk around J.U. Everyone was excited that the record number of disappearances was likely stemmed, if no’ over altogether. Eventually Elora’s mood turned somber and she got ‘round to askin’ what had happened to Ghost. They told her he died in the explosion and that, so far as E Team was concerned, he gave his life in the line of duty, a credit to The Order. She caught the glances they exchanged and read between the lines.

“And Baka?” she asked.

“No decision yet,” Storm said. “I recommended some sort of new arrangement. Probation maybe.”

“You recommended?” Her eyebrows were raised almost to her hairline in disbelief.

Storm shrugged. “I mean, he was singlehandedly responsible for bringing the crisis to an end and, in the process, he probably took out more vampire than anyone in the history of this organization. I guess I sort of vouched for him. I know it’s hard to believe.”

When the late night nurse came in for a round of chartin’ vitals, we made a game of comparin’ stats.

The nurse told Elora,” Your temperature’s half a degree higher than your normal.”

I smiled at Elora. “Aye. To be sure she is perpetually hot and that is normal for her.”

The nurse chuckled at my innuendo and told Elora, “You’re a lucky girl.” At the door, she stopped and said, “Okay kids. Lights out. This is not a slumber party. You both need sleep if you want to get well.” She flipped the light switch, closed the door and left the room in darkness except for the LED lights from the machine read-outs.

“Ram?”

“Hmmm?”

“Thank you for telling me stories.”

“You heard me.”

“Yes.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I especially liked it when the elf tied scissors to Rapunzel’s hair and sent them up to the tower so she could cut her braid, tie it off and use it to climb down. I also liked it when the miller’s daughter got Rumpelstiltskin in a choke hold and gave him the choice of either changing the offer or passing out in forty seconds. Your fairy tales were wonderful.”

“Elf tales,” was the last thing I said before sleep took me.

The next mornin’ we woke to Grand Central Station in our little hospital room. There were doctors, nurses, some of Monq’s assistants and Monq lookin’ like he had no’ been to bed.

“Good morning, Ms. Laiken.” He seemed lively for someone so bloodshot, rumpled and sportin’ Einstein hair.

“Lady Laiken,” I corrected. Great Paddy. Get it right!

“Whatever,” Monq said, turnin’ back to Elora, “You seem to be having a little reaction to the bites you sustained. We’ve determined that the inoculation you received wasn’t up to the task of combating the concentrated levels of virus that were introduced to your body. Even though females have a hormone-based antitoxin that aids immunity, it wasn’t enough to avoid infection altogether. We’re going to give you a booster, and believe that it will reverse any side effects of the virus still in your system.”

“Okay,” she said. “Go ahead.”

‘Twas clear by her demeanor that my girl had no needle phobia. Monq produced a filled syringe and administered the injection himself.

“Are there side effects to look out for?” I asked.

He gave me a pointed look. “This won’t take long enough to worry about that. The effect won’t be instantaneous, but it’s relatively fast acting.” He turned his attention back to Elora who was lying quietly, but very alert. “By noon you’ll be good as new. I’ll be back in four hours to make sure of it.”

The room had cleared except for Elsbeth. Elora said, “I need a shower,” and started to move the covers away.”

Instead of respondin’ directly, Elsbeth looked at me. I knew Elora would want to know what that was about, but it could no’ be helped. The situation was delicate.

I told Elsbeth, “Give us a minute, please?”

“Sure.” She looked toward Elora. “Back in a few.”

When she was gone, I said, “You heard what Monq said. By lunch time you’ll be your perfect self.”

“He said ‘good as new’.”

I felt a smile comin’ on and shut it down. I’d learned my lesson about pullin’ stitches and did no’ want to look like Frankenstein for the rest of my life. “So he did. Will you trust me in this? Please. Just wait until after lunch to take your shower.”

“Why?”

“I need you to trust me on this. As your partner.”

She studied me for a few seconds, decidin’ whether or no’ I was worth her trust, I suppose.

“I feel grungy.”

“And will you have whine with that?”

“Oh. And I’m not entitled to a little whine?” In truth, she was entitled to all the complainin’ she might want to do. She was unique in the sense of bein’ a woman who’d survived a vampire attack with personality intact. “What have you got to entertain me then?”

I looked around. “I could make my six pack dance. I know you like that one.” I spoke before rememberin’ that my six pack was in pieces, hastily put back together like Humpty Dumpty, and that there probably would be nothin’ funny about such a performance.

She snorted, but did no’ say, “Ew,” even though I knew she was thinkin’ it.

I picked up the room phone and called Kay. They had still no’ brought me my own phone.

When he answered, I said, “Could you grab Elora’s laptop and stop by with it?” Pause. “Hmmm.” Pause. “Yep.”

I hung up the phone and said, “How about shoppin’? All that stuff you wanted at Bloomin’dale’s that we could no’ carry? You can buy it and have it delivered.” She smiled brightly. “See? There’s nothin’ like spendin’ money on shite you do no’ need to change your outlook.”

Kay brought me the computer and a decaf Americana from the Hub. He said the docs would have his hide if he’d brought real caffeine that would keep me from sleepin’. I got myself in the wheelchair and rolled out in the hall after him.

He looked down at me. “You’ve changed, Ram. You strike me as mated and mature.”

“’Tis cruel of you to insult me so when I can no’ defend myself.”

He laughed, grabbed my shoulder, but froze before shakin’ me, like he’d just remembered I was fragile as a china doll.

“Monq told us he thinks he has a fix for her.”

“Aye. Stuck her with a horse-sized needle. I’m distractin’ her with shoppin’ to keep her from seein’ what we see when we look at her.”

Kay nodded, lookin’ plaintive. “Yeah. I think that’s best. All and all she seems to be handling this pretty well. I do think she acts like a dumb ass sometimes…”

“Hey!”

“…but I have to hand it to her. Coming to this dimension, which meant losing everybody who meant anything to her and everything she knew? I don’t think many of us could have handled it as well. And adapted so quickly.”

“Aye. She’s special.”

“That she is. Well, I’ll let you get back in there. I know you’d rather be with her than out here talking to me.”

“No worries, Kay. I’ll always remember you were my first love.”

“Fuck off.”

I laughed, then winced and gritted my teeth for forgettin’ again. He walked away, snickerin’ at my pain. Damn him.

Elora was sittin’ up with the laptop on her… lap, busily shoppin’ her heart out. I crawled back in bed and was content to lie near her, listenin’ to the keys click away. Everything was goin’ to be okay. I felt it down to my bare feet.

We stayed like that through the mornin’. A couple of times nurses came in to do their busywork. A couple of times Elora turned and asked me questions about this or that. O’ course I did no’ care what she wore, but tried to seem interested enough to validate a choice or offer an opinion, for what ‘twas worth. I was pleased and flattered that she cared what I thought and asked me.

I may have dozed from time to time, feelin’ both tired and content. A little after eleven I roused, hearin’ her say, “What do you think of the way these colors fall out? You like the gray or the black?”

I turned my head to the left to answer and came face to face with turquoise eyes shimmerin’ like a kaleidoscope of golden and yellow flecks. I remembered a day in the Bahamas when I’d been struck by the beauty of sunlight shinin’ on the shallows of a turquoise sea. I would have laughed with joy, but the sight had taken my breath away.

“What?” she asked, seemin’ suddenly self-conscious about the way I was lookin’ at her.

I simply reached for the call button. A female voice said, “Yes?”

“Get Monq up here now.” Turnin’ back to Elora I said, “Your eyes had temporarily lost their very fetchin’ color. But, thank Paddy, you appear for all the world to be well. Take a shower when you wish.”

Her lips parted and she blinked slowly. “I looked like a vampire?”

“Aye.”

She processed that. “Wow. Everybody did a pretty good job of covering that up.”

“’Tis proof of how much they care about you.”

Elora insisted on walkin’ to the shower without assistance, albeit slowly. The two of us would have probably been hilarious in a race at that point.

Monq arrived while she was groomin’.

“How long does she usually take?” he asked.

“First, I would no’ know the answer to that question,” I said. “Second, there’s nothin’ ‘usual’ about this circumstance.”

He nodded and sat swingin’ his foot until Elora emerged lookin’ dazzlin’ with a fresh scrubbed face, a mostly white gown with little printed blue things on it, and towel dried hair. I knew she did no’ like wearin’ patterned clothing because everything she chose was solid in color.

“Monq,” she said.

“I am he.” Sometimes I think Monq prides himself in bein’ strange. “First, how do you feel? Are you hungry?”

She hesitated for a second, apparently decidin’ to negotiate. “Can I get the I.V. out if I eat?”

“Yes,” Monq said.

“Okay. Then I’ll have pancakes with chocolate chips, two eggs over easy, and a cup of French onion soup. But I won’t eat any of it until the I.V. is out of my life.” With that, she sat down on the bed and pulled a blanket over her lap.

Monq nodded and disappeared from the room without another word. Two minutes later he returned, sayin’, “Your order has been placed and I’ve instructed removal of the I.V.”

“Thank you,” Elora said.

“And I have more good news.”

Monq waited for a response until Elora finally said, “Yes. Go on.”

“As you may or may not know, The Order has been actively seeking a cure for the vampire virus since we had enough scientific understanding to know that it is a virus. It seems this incident made you an accidental catalyst. We believe your blood will serve as the basis for an antidote.”

Elora stared at Monq, appearin’ to process that revelation. When she spoke, what she had to say could no’ have surprised me more. “You can cure Baka?”

“Definite possibility and we need a test subject.”

“Let me ask him. I want to do it in person. Can you arrange for him to come here?”

“Given Sir Storm’s surprisingly stellar recommendation, I don’t think there will be a problem with that.”

“Thank you. Will somebody bring me my phone?”

I was flummoxed with the implication of that request. “Please tell me you do no’ have his bloody phone number!”

Elora looked sheepish. “He’s so lonely, Ram. He’s got no one.”

I tried to come up out of the chair in a hurry, but the brakes were no’ locked on the wheelchair and I ended up sittin’ back down hard, which hurt like a demon beatin’, but no’ as bad as landin’ on my arse would have been. I tried for as much indignation as I could manage while wearin’ a little cotton gown and sittin’ in a wheelchair.

“Great Paddy Shits in the Mornin’, Elora! He’s a vampire! No’ a stray dog!”

“See? I knew that’s how you would react, which is exactly why I didn’t tell you.” My mouth fell open at the blatant lack of repentance for her totally unacceptable behavior. Then she drove the nail into my heart by sayin’, “Do not even think about hyperventilating.”

I gave her a look that should have shamed her to the core, but instead of beggin’ my forgiveness, she laughed!

“Ow,” she said. And I know you will believe me when I say I took no pleasure in the consequence she paid for laughin’ in my face.

“The death of me, Elora,” I said, shakin’ my head.

One of the duty nurses swept in, handed Elora her phone, and turned to rush away.

“Hey!” I protested. “Where’s my phone? I asked first!”

Elora gave me a smug look followed by a wicked smile. “They like me better.”

I sighed. Who could argue with that? I liked her better, too. But I wanted my phone.

Two hours later all four members of B Team were assembled in our hospital room awaitin’ Baka’s arrival. He knocked, then opened the door a few inches. Storm waved him in. He nodded at Storm, Kay, then me, but did no’ move closer toward Elora.

“Hi,” she said. The back of her bed was raised so that she was sittin’ up.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, soundin’ for all the world like he was actually concerned.

“Better. I want to thank you for your part in this. And I have a question.”

“Ask,” was all he said, no’ takin’ his attention away from Elora.

“What do you want more than anything?”

He was clearly surprised by the question. And why would he no’ be? I’m certain that was the last thing he was expectin’.

He looked around the room for some clue as to where the line of questionin’ might be headed, but since none of us knew, we wore blank expressions. Satisfied that he’d get nothin’ by studyin’ us, he turned back to Elora.

“That’s a strange question. Certainly one I never expected to be asked. What is it you’re after? Just speak it plain.”

“It is a strange question. I know that, but humor me please. Just pretend for a minute that I have a magic wand and could make anything possible. Would you want to be CEO of a Fortune 500 company? A Broadway star? Professional athlete? Hugh Hefner?”

He smiled sadly and shook his head. He did no’ take a lot of time to formulate an answer.

“Very well,” he said like he was tired and givin’ up. “You want soul baring. Sure. What difference does it make?” He glanced over my teammates and me once again, like the exercise was embarrasin’ but he would do what she asked for the simple reason that she asked it.

“Nothing like any of those things. What I would want is just to have back what was taken from me: a wife, children, a trade I can be proud to work every day with a sense of purpose and accomplishment, a bowl of stew at night, a warm bed with a soft and willing woman who believes she loves me, a chance at old age, and people to mourn me when I’m gone.”

Elora nodded and smiled. “Baka. You don’t disappoint me. I think you deserve to have that wish come true. Monq thinks something good may have come from this.” She gestured toward her body. “He thinks he has a cure for the virus and needs a test subject. We suggested you.”

Baka stared for a full minute without shiftin’ his stance or changin’ his expression. A couple of times he opened his mouth, but then closed it as if he’d either lost the thought or was searchin’ for a more perfect response.

What he finally settled on was, “Thank you.” His voice broke. Kay and Storm both looked away, apparently moved by the vampire’s desire to be nothin’ more than a simple man with a simple life. Once again. And I wondered if they had bonded in that unique way that occurs when people have experienced a battle or a crisis together.

Elora looked between Storm and Kay. “Will you show him the way to Monq’s lab?” To Baka, she said, “I hope you get what you want, Istvan.”

He smiled, said, “My Lady,” and gave her an old world sort of combination between a nod and a bow.

When they’d gone, I said, “How did that feel, Gepetto?” She looked at me like she did no’ get the reference. “You turned the vampire into a real boy, did you no’?”

“Why, Ram, have you become an aficionado of fairy tales?”

I dropped my chin in mock exasperation. “Elf tales.”

CHAPTER 26

Ram

Two weeks later Elora and I had both had the external stitches removed. We were given clearance to leave for the holidays. We’d had a lot of time off that year, between Lan’s death and sheet time, but it was our year for Yule and our names stayed on the roster.

We had ten days between December 20th and New Years.

I was waitin’ in the hallway outside Elora’s apartment, knowin’ her habits and that she’d be back from walkin’ Blackie at any minute. I could no’ wait to show her the New Forest and spend time with her at the huntin’ cabin.

She smiled brightly when she got close. “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself.”

“What’s up?”

“Can I come in?”

“Sure. You want some cocoa?” she asked as she was punchin’ her code into the pad.

I followed her inside. “No. I’m here to ask you a question.”

“Oh?”

“Just found out we’ve got leave to go home for Yule.”

“I know. I heard.” She took Blackie’s leash off, gave him a pet, and stood up to look at me. “I’m going to California with Storm. What are you doing?”

I took a step toward her, wantin’ to take her by the shoulders and make her understand that we were mates. She looked alarmed at the change in my expression, but I needed her to be payin’ attention. ‘Twas no’ goin’ to be a casual conversation after all.

“No. Elora, you can no’ do this.” In hindsight I admit that statement was no’ as well thought out as it could have been. Tellin’ someone like Elora that she can no’ do a thing is throwin’ down the gauntlet.

“Of course I can.”

“You love him?”

“Ram, where is this coming from?”

“Just answer. Do you love him?”

“Like a brother.”

“‘Tis no’ enough, Elora.”

“Well, it will have to be.”

I could tell she was both determined and resigned. ‘Twas playin’ out just as Kay had predicted in Romania. I was in a panic knowin’ I had to find a way to interrupt the course in progress. I could no’ think of anything to do except tell her the truth. She had to understand.

“No. You do no’ understand. You’re mine. My mate.” I took her by the shoulders and willed her to look in my eyes. I needed her to see my sincerity and know the truth of what I was sayin’. “The only one I will ever have.”

“Ram.” She pulled away, laughin’. “Don’t be ridiculous. I made up my mind a long time ago that I’m not going to end up like one of your toss-aways.”

“My what?”

“I know all about your man whore reputation. Elsbeth told me.”

So that was the root cause of her resistance. So many things fell into place. If this did no’ go well, I would burn Elsbeth alive in the middle of the Courtpark and sell tickets.

“Els…!” I was confounded. “Elora. You’ve got this wrong. I have no’ so much as looked at another female since layin’ eyes on you. Other women – ‘twas practically the same as masturbation. I was just markin’ time while waitin’ for you.”

For a moment her resolve faltered. I could see it, but she recovered and laughed again, like it was nothin’ more than elf mischief. “Rammel.” She shook her head.

I was feelin’ desperate and probably lookin’ wild-eyed. Then I remembered the book. I turned and started rummagin’ through the piles of stuff on her dinin’ desk.

“Ram, what are you doing?”

I found it and held it up. Everything You Ever Wanted to Know About Elves But Were Afraid To Ask.

“Lookin’ for this. Did you read it?”

“Sort of.”

“Sort of?” I started through the pages.

“Ram. What is it that you…?”

“Just a minute,” I said. I found the passage, grabbed one of her yellow markers, colored over the lines and handed her the open book. “Read this!” She hesitated, looking serious. Finally. Then reached out and took it. “Out loud.”

She looked at me like she did no’ appreciate me givin’ her orders, but let it go and started to read. “As a species, elves have a strong sex drive. Male elves, in particular, are highly promiscuous until they recognize their mates. Afterward they are singularly devoted and strictly monogamous.”

Every trace of amusement had faded from her face and I was sure she was comin’ to an understandin’ of the fact that I was no’ lookin’ for a fuck buddy. “And you believe that I’m your mate?”

“’Tis no’ a matter of belief. ‘Tis an instinct unerrin’. One that can no’ be either changed or denied. That day in New York when you asked me what I want more than anything, the reason I could no’ say was no’ because I did no’ know. Of course I know. ‘Tis you, Elora. Only you. And it always will be. Only you.”

She turned away from me, shakin’ her head, and quietly said, “I hope that’s not so, Ram.”

Gods in heaven and hel, I thought, this could no’ be happenin’.

I moved closer. “Elora. Please. Do no’ do this thing. If I recognize you as my mate, there must be a part of you that knows we fit together. We’re right for each other because we were made to be together. You must know it. Come home with me. Marry me.”

She shook her head and pulled back. “You know what you mean to me, Ram. I’d do anything for you. Anything but this. Storm saved my life.” I opened my mouth to respond, but she added. “Twice,” and I felt myself flinch at that.

“That’s a reason to be grateful. ‘Tis no’ a reason to give yourself to someone you do no’ love.” I took hold of her again and searched her eyes hopin’ to find recognition that we were a pair. “I know you’re tryin’ to do the right thing. ‘Tis part of who you are and I love you for it. O’ course I get that. But, if you choose Storm, you’ll be sentencin’ all three of us to a life of unhappiness.”

She shook her head, lookin’ miserable, but resolute.

“Elora, you can no’ say no to me. This can no’ be right.”

I pulled her close enough to put my forehead against hers and said, “Kiss me.” There was no question in my mind that she had to come to me. I knew it like an age old ritual playin’ out by intuition. It had to be her choice, though I was dyin’ inside at the hands of a very profound fear that she would cling to her decision.

She did no’ pull away, but did no’ move to close the short distance between us.

“Kiss me,” I repeated, hearin’ that my voice had gone gruff, the words ragged with my anguish and desperation.

“I can’t, Ram. Please. Stop. My mind is made up.”

It was over. As much as I did no’ want to give it up, as much as I knew walkin’ away would be a death sentence, I’d given it my best shot and there was nothin’ left to say. I took a step back, looked her over and saw that she would hold firm. She would no’ be moved. I felt a kind of numbness wash over me, inside and out. ‘Tis difficult to explain. ‘Twas like one minute I was seein’ the world clear and true, and the next I was strugglin’ to make out colors. Like tryin’ to look through a distorted screen or filter.

I think I heard Blackie whine and bump my leg with his nose. My eyes were open, but nothin’ was in focus. It took a lot of will to make my body move toward the door. I left without another word. I’d used all the words I could think of to make her understand and words had failed me. I closed the door.

I can no’ say how long I stood in the hallway outside. I know that I was no’ motivated to move at first.

I went through the motions of packin’ my things, knowin’ in my heart of hearts that I would no’ be back and also knowin’ that I would no’ be needin’ what I left behind.

When Farnsworth called to say my plane was landin’, I shrugged on my pea coat, slung my duffle over my shoulder and took one last look ‘round. The last thing I picked up was a package wrapped by Bloomin’dales.

I knocked on her door. When she answered, I drunk her in, knowin’ ‘twould be the last time I saw her.

“I’m goin’,” was what I said, while my mind was repeatin’, “Please do no’ let me. Please stop me and tell me there’s been a mistake.”

All she said was, “Now?”

I handed over the cheerful-lookin’ package. “Happy Yule,” I said. “If you change your mind, or if you need me, this is how to find me.” I pulled a note from my pocket and put it in her hand. I’d written out the directions to New Forest, no’ believin’ she would ever look at them. Still, I had to do it.

With brows drawn together, she took the note in her hand, hesitated for half a second lookin’ like she might be blinkin’ back tears. She threw her arms around me and I knew it was goodbye.

I shut my eyes tight, wantin’ to memorize the feel of her, the smell of her. I hugged her back and indulged in turnin’ my head into her hair for one last breath of wild jasmine.

She put her lips next to my ear and whispered, “Don’t be mad.”

“I’m no’ mad, Elora," I said into her hair. “Can no’ be mad at you. You’re my darlin’ girl.”

I pulled away fast, hidin’ my face from view. Prolongin’ the inevitable was only goin’ to make things more painful. Although I was no’ altogether certain that was possible. I did no’ look back. I do no’ know if she watched me leave or no’. What difference would it make? Things would be the same either way.

I made my way to the landin’ strip and boarded the jet for Edinburgh, never before in my life feelin’ so low or so alone. Jefferson Unit receded from view seconds after take off.

“Well, that’s that,“ I thought to myself.

CHAPTER 27

Storm

I was feeling pretty good about things. Elora was well on her way to a full recovery. Same with Rammel.

For a while there, I thought she wasn’t going to choose me. But she did. I pulled our bags off the jeep onto the tarmac and couldn’t help a grin. I turned to her and said, “We’re going to have a wonderful life”.

I figured it was time to call an end to the farce Sol was calling an office romance policy. The woman was going to be my wife. She knew it. I knew it. And I’d never even kissed her. It was high time to put a stop to the hands-off nonsense.

She returned my smile and tilted her face up when I leaned in for a kiss. To say that didn’t go the way I’d planned in my imagination? Well, that would be the understatement of the century.

Elora jerked back like she’d just been tasered by my mouth, leaving me wondering, what the devil? She was looking around like she was seeing things I couldn’t see. It was alarming and, well, weird.

“What’s wrong? Please tell me my kissing isn’t that bad.”

When she looked up at me, her eyes were full of tears that hadn’t yet spilled over. I felt my shoulders slump because I knew what was coming next.

“I’m so sorry, Storm. I don’t expect you to forgive me so I won’t ask.”

Feeling suddenly self-conscious about my hands, I put them in my pockets. “Ram,” was all I could think to say.

“I owe you my life - two times over. And I do love you. But not this way. If it was just the two of us…” she trailed off and paused to wipe tears away with the back of her hand. “I wanted it to be you. Please believe that.”

I looked over at the plane taxiing and gave a slight nod, already feeling miles away. In just a few more minutes we would have been on that plane together.

I cleared my throat. “I do believe you, Elora. It’d be dishonest if I said I was completely surprised. I guess you’d have to be blind not to see that the two of you are in love.”

My hand went to my breast pocket where I’d stowed the photo of the vineyard. I was going to tell her about it on the plane ride, maybe drive her over there while we were home in the valley for the holiday. That wasn’t going to happen. “Sometimes hope and denial go hand in hand.” I said it looking out at the plane, but I forced myself to turn and face her.

“I’d like to hate him. But I can’t. I loved him first. I’d like to blame him for wanting you, but I can't really do that either, can I?" I reached out and ran my fingers down her wet cheek. “You sure this is what you want? I’ve known Ram a long time. He’s a mixed bag.”

“It’s not a choice, Storm. I thought it was, but it’s not.” She put her arms around my waist and squeezed tight. “I won’t forget how much I owe you. I swear it.”

I pulled away and ducked down so we were eye to eye. “You don’t owe me a thing, Princess. I did what I did and I wouldn’t change it.”

If Sol had taught me anything, it was that a person’s reaction to trying times is what defines them. I wanted to be worthy of my vocation. So I decided to take the high road. I pulled her to me and pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead, gave my best impression of a smile, picked up my bag, and started walking toward the plane. One foot in front of the other.

I wanted to turn around, but forced myself to keep facing forward.

I won’t lie. It wasn’t a pleasant event, but those of you who know my story also know that it was the best thing. Not just for Ram and Elora. For me, too. All these years later, I have no regrets.

I wouldn’t change a thing.

CHAPTER 28

Liam O’Torvall

It had been snowin’ for about an hour. Moira and I had just sat down to enjoy a supper of shepherd’s pie, when we heard a knock at the door. We looked at each other as if to ask if either of us was expectin’ anyone, as we did no’ often have callers after dark.

“I’ll get it,” she said.

I nodded. That was fine with me. I was in no hurry to separate myself from my wife’s shepherd’s pie which was perfection and served at the exact right moment, temperature wise. When I heard her laugh, my spoon full of goodness stopped midway to my mouth. The old woman rarely laughed with the abandon I was hearin’.

I rose to go see what was the matter and felt my heart grow lighter when I saw Rammel Hawking on the threshold given my wife a right and proper huggin’.

“What’s this?” I said. “A wayward prince come callin’ on a dark Yuletide night?”

“’Tis.” The boy looked up and smiled at me, but I could see something was no’ right. I had known him since he was waist high and, because I paid attention, I knew him well.

“Come in out of the cold. So happens we’re enjoyin’ your favorite dish and there’s plenty.”

“Shepherd’s Pie?” he asked.

“Indeed,” I said. “Take off your coat. Put your bundle down. And come share supper with two old people glad to see ye.”

My wife fetched another bowl from the cupboard and dished the boy a generous portion, as she knew the extent of his appetite.

“You stoppin’ off here on your way home for Yule?” I asked.

“No,” he said. “I’m stayin’ at the cabin this season.”

I frowned, knowin’ that was no’ like him. He held no lost love for his father, the king, but he made a point of bein’ home for Yule to please his mum when he could.

“Well,” I said. “You can’t start that way tonight. You’ll stay with us. Sleep in your old bed until the morn.”

He nodded absently, lookin’ like he was concentratin’ on the food before him, even though he was no’ eatin’.

“Something wrong with the pie?” asked Moira.

He looked up at her, down at the bowl, and back at her again. “No, Moira. ‘Tis wonderful as always. I must be tired is all.”

Rammel. Too tired to eat? No’ in a haymaker’s week. I exchanged a worried look with my wife.

“Your mare is in good stead. The Abernathy boy has been ridin’ her every day, keepin’ her in good condition for ye.”

That got a half smile out of him. “That’s nice, Liam. I’m lookin’ forward to seein’ her.” Just as quickly as the smile had come, ‘twas gone again.

“O’Bannon and his sons put a new roof on the cabin in September.”

“Oh?” he said. “That’s good. Means I’ll be sleepin’ in a nice dry bed.”

“Aye. Sent your father the bill.” I laughed, but Ram didn’t respond. “Do no’ feel like ye must keep us company, lad. Our bond is too long and too old for formalities. Go on off and get yourself a good night’s rest then.”

Ram looked between the two of us. “Thank you,” he said. “For everything you’ve done for me.”

He rose and started away.

“Is there anything at all you’d like to tell us? We’re good listeners with great affection for ye. We’re also good at keepin’ secrets, as you well know.”

“No’ tonight. But thanks for askin’. Means the world.”

With that he disappeared ‘round the corner, leavin’ me with a fitful night’s rest and a heaviness settlin’ in the spirit of the house.

The next mornin’ gave me even more concern. Ram took the little stock of supplies that Moira put together and tied it to the saddle. As he ran his hand over the mare’s neck, he said, “You’re right, Liam. She looks wonderful to be sure. The Abernathy boy has done a good job carin’ for her in my absence.”

He paused and I waited with a strong sense that Rammel had more to say.

“Will ye check on me from time to time? As ye did when I was young?”

“When ye were young?” I laughed. “Rammel Hawking. Ye’re young now!”

“When I was younger, I mean.”

“Is something in particular worryin’ ye?”

He shook his head. “Nothin’ in particular. ‘Tis just that, I plan to do some bow huntin’ and things happen in the woods. I’ll leave the horse in the stable at such times and, should difficulty befall me, I want to know that she will be taken care of.”

I studied his face, which I would call beleaguered if I had to put a name to it. I decided to tell the truth, plain and simple. “Rammel. You are worryin’ me.”

“No need,” he answered quickly. “’Tis just that, the older I get, the more I understand that things do no’ always turn out the way we hope or expect.”

“’Tis true,” I agreed, wantin’ to press him further, but wantin’ more to give him the respect that his age and station deserved. “Someone will check in on you every couple of days. We’ll bring ye some chicken, cheese, wine, and maybe some applesauce put away for such an occasion.”

He tried to smile, but did no’ quite succeed. “Liam. You should have been everybody’s father,” he said. And I blinked, no’ knowin’ how to respond to such a great compliment as that. He looked down at the bridle reins in his hands and said, “There is a very small chance, no’ really worth mentionin’. But just in case, if a human, a most uncommon lass, comes to the gate, bring her to me. Her name is Lady Elora Laiken.”

Just like that everything became clear. The boy was actin’ like an elf who’d lost his mate.

Swingin’ himself up in the saddle, as only young men in the bloom of strength can do, he nodded at me and trotted off into the woods. The snow had stopped soon after it had started so that there was a good dustin’ on the ground, but ‘twas no’ too deep. I looked at the sky and determined that he would have no trouble arrivin’ safely before more weather came in.

Two days later, I was thinkin’ about my promise to look in on Ram. I was gettin’ old to be traipsin’ back and forth into the forest, but certainly he was on my mind. If I was right about him havin’ found a mate and lost her, I needed to keep a close eye on him. We’d all heard stories of elves simply pinin’ away from grief over bein’ separated from mates.

I answered the door. O’Craig was standin’ there practically jumpin’ up and down.

“What are you doin’ there, Colin? Stop that at once.”

“There’s a lady at the gate, sir. Askin’ for ye.”

O’Craig looked at me like I was daft when I responded with a big grin. “’Tis good news, Colin.”

“’Tis?”

“Aye. The best. Did she say her name was, um, Laiken?”

“Laiken. Aye. I believe so.”

“’Tis a fine day,” I said to O’Craig as I hurried along toward the gate with as much speed as a man of my age and girth can muster.

“Aye, sir. ‘Tis.”

“Tarnation, man! Open this gate!”

“Aye, sir.”

Standin’ there as the hefty gate swung open was as lovely a young lady as anyone ever set eyes on. I knew in an instant that she was right for our boy. An old man has a sense about such things.

I smiled. “Lady Laiken, welcome to Black-On-Tarry. I’m Liam O’Torvall. Please to call me Liam.” She’d brought two suitcases, which I hefted up and began carryin’ toward the cart I’d planned to take to the cabin. “If we start right away, we shall be there by midday.”

“How do you do, um, Liam. Is this not my destination?”

She kept up with me with the effortlessness of youth.

“Oh no. We’ll be takin’ a cart. I’d been plannin’ to go so ‘tis already laden. ‘Tis some distance to the huntin’ cottage.”

“A cart?”

“Aye. This way then.”

The girl was lookin’ ‘round as if she’d ne’er seen elves before. Likewise, the townspeople were stoppin’ to stare as if they’d never seen a stranger. Well, to be fair, strangers were a very rare occurrence. ‘Twas hard to gain access to the Preserve.

“Travel by cart is the only way to get to the huntin’ cottage besides walkin’ or ridin’ and either of those would be tricky with your very fine bags with the little wheels. If you were walkin’, you would also need to be wearin’ your wellies on a day such as today. If you were ridin’ you would need a different sort of cloak, would you no’?”

“I suppose all of that is true.”

“If you be peckish, we may find a repast to your likin’ before we start away. My wife might possibly be the world’s best cook.”

She smiled in a most engagin’ way and said, “No. I’m not hungry. Just eager.”

That made me chuckle and, suddenly, I could hardly wait to get to the cabin. I suspected my passenger carried the cure to all that was ailin’ our lad. Yellow Horse was hitched to the cart just outside the stable. I set her bags in the cart and helped her to her seat.

I was about to pull myself up beside her when I had an idea.

“I’ll be back in just a minute.” I went into the stable and put a halter on the young bay geldin’, led him out, and tied the lead to the rear of the cart. She watched with interest, but said nothin’ at all.

I tried to keep up my end of the conversation, knowin’ that I could accidentally learn a lot by encouragin’ her to talk.

After a few minutes she said, “Why, may I ask, are we leading the pretty gelding?”

That told me that she was a horse lover, like Ram, or at least that she knew enough to know he was “pretty”. Indeed he was one of the finest horses ever bred in the Preserve, although no’ as fast or strong as Ram’s mare.

“Oh. I would no’ leave ye in the forest with just one horse! This three-year-old belongs to your host. Sleek and strong, but good-natured and very gentle. He’ll be givin’ you no trouble at all.” I saw her smirk out of the corner of my eye, which told me that she probably did no’ require a good-natured, gentle horse as many humans do. “And a very fine horseman he is, too.”

“Ram?”

“The same.”

“So there are no cars here?”

“No cars, electronics, or anything powered by something other than human or beast. Rammel’s great-grandfather was responsible. He was a visionary who saw the future of the world and caused these lands to be set aside to preserve the old ways. Those of us who live here have chosen to forego the excitement and convenience of electricity for the serenity of peace and the beauty of nature. Life is good and we have him to thank.”

She looked around, clearly curious about the environs. “I see. You sound like a philosopher.”

“Oh, no. Truly. A simpler man may no' be found on the green earth. The young prince has always preferred the woods to palace life. Wild child he was.” I chuckled, rememberin’ how near feral he’d been.

“Wild child. Ram once called himself that.”

“Aye. The young prince may have been only ten the first time he ran away and came here. After three times his father settled a charge on me to watch after the boy when he showed up at the cottage. ‘Tis why my wife and I have such a deep and abidin’ fondness for the lad.”

“But that’s not the same hunting cottage we’re going to. Is it?”

I was confused. Where had the conversation taken a strange turn? “Aye, the very same.”

“So Ram has the prince’s permission to use his hunting cottage?”

I realized in an instant that I had divulged information that was no’ mine to share. I was afraid that, in my eagerness to learn about the young lady, I’d overstepped my station and made a serious error.

“Em. I hope I have no’ spoke out of turn.”

“What do you mean?”

There was no turnin’ back. The cat was out of the bag and the lass was clearly too intelligent to fool.

“I mean His Highness,” I glanced sideways and spoke deliberately, “Rammel Hawking, speaks very highly of you. Calls you a most uncommon lass. And here we are.”

We were a few yards away from the cottage, when I pulled the horse to a stop. I started to get down, but the lass grabbed me by the forearm with the strength of a man.

“You’re saying that Ram is this young prince.”

I thought I’d been clear. “That he is. And the finest ever born should you ask me.” It could no’ hurt to put in a good word for him.

I came ‘round to her side and offered my hand, sayin’, “Come down. I will help you.” She took my hand but did no’ place weight on it, jumpin’ to the ground with the grace of a deer. “If he is no’ here, I’ll build you a nice fire before I go.”

I knocked on the door and called out, but there was no answer. So I let myself in. The place was neat and tidy as always. We’d insisted that, at the very least, he no’ live like an animal and it seemed the trainin’ had stuck. The room was clean as if a woman was in residence.

“Make yourself at home,” I told her. “The fire has died, but I’ll have it rekindled in no time.”

I stopped by the stable and saw that the mare was in her stall. Judgin’ from the water in her trough and the clean condition of the hay, Rammel had seen to her that very day.

Next I carried an armload of firewood inside and got a nice cracklin’ blaze goin’. The cottage was well-built with a tall chimney to draw smoke. ‘Twould be cozy in no time at all. On the chance that Rammel would be a while, I replenished the stack of firewood by the hearth. I knew he’d no’ want me to leave the girl cold and without resources.

I then unloaded the stores Moira had packed, which would last for several days.

“’Twas a pleasure to meet you, Lady Laiken. Rammel would want ye to help yerself to whatever ye can find. I shall be seein’ ye again on yer way back to the world from which ye came.”

She smiled. “Yes, you will. The pleasure has been mine, Liam. And please call me Elora.”

“Very well. Give my regards to your… friend.”

“Yes. I shall.”

I closed the door behind me, put the geldin’ in the stall next to Ram’s mare, gave him water, fresh hay and a handful of oats. He whinnied when he saw I was leavin’ as if he did no’ want to stay in a strange place.

“Do no’ worry, lad,” I said to him. “Horses dream of havin’ the prince for their master.”

Turnin’ the cart for home, I could no’ help whistlin’ as I went, believin’ that all would be right with the world.

CHAPTER 29

Ram

There has been one and only one constant in my life and that has been the cabin in the New Forest. More than any place, that is what I think of as home. ‘Tis the place that gives me comfort and solace, my fortress against all the world’s evils and disappointments.

It has never failed to restore my soul. Until now.

‘Tis no’ the fault of the cottage. It has done no wrong. ‘Tis simply that there is no help for me. I have had the misfortune to have a human mate who does no’ recognize me as her other half. Fate does no’ take the difference in species into account however. My heart grieves as if she’d died.

The first thing I did upon returnin’, even before removin’ my coat, was to put the photo of the two of us in New York on the mantel where I could see it from every corner. You may say I was a glutton for punishment, but havin’ a photo of her was better than no’. ‘Twas as simple minded as that.

I was no’ able to eat for three days. Nor could I sleep. I knew ‘twas the beginnin’ of the end and I welcomed it, hopin’ ‘twas sooner rather than later. There’s no point in prologin’ misery to no end. All that was left for me was to write letters to my mother, my sister, my teammates, Liam and Moira, tellin’ each the true feelin’s that would never be expressed otherwise or again. I planned to light candles that very evenin’ and see to the task as the light faded.

I went out into the forest with my bow. I pulled my hair back behind my ears because there was no reason to disguise who and what I was in my grandfather’s own Preserve. I wandered the woods that I had learned and loved as a boy, half seein’ what was in front of me, and asked myself if I would change things if I could.

If I had known ahead of time that it would end this way, would I choose never to know Elora Laiken? The answer was a resoundin’ no. No matter what the cost, I would choose to see her turquoise eyes sparkle in the sun. I’d want to watch her runnin’ and playin’ with the big black dog she saved from a life of torture. I’d die a dozen times over just to see her smile at me the way she did when she was tryin’ on hats on our day in New York. For those and a hundred other reasons that flashed across my mind, I could no’ imagine no’ havin’ known her. I supposed that was love.

I realized my feet had taken me back to the stream that ran in front of the cottage. Big puffy flakes of snow were beginnin’ to fall. The Forest was beautiful and I was grateful that I’d had such a unique opportunity to know it like an old friend. I had no’ been payin’ attention to where I was goin’, but when I looked up I stopped dead still.

Something was wrong. There was a spiral of smoke curlin’ from the chimney. I was certain the fire had been out when I left hours before.

I jumped across the stream and strode toward the door. When I reached the threshold, the door opened on its own. Standin’ there was a hallucination come to taunt me. ‘Twas so like Elora it made my heart break anew. I wondered what ‘twould say and do to torture me more, that cruel illusion.

I set my bow leanin’ against the casement, pulled the quiver over my head and set it next to the bow. I would no’ give the thing the satisfaction of speakin’ first. ‘Twas an indication of madness for certain, bein’ alone in the Forest talkin’ to myself.

Unbelievably, the thing my mind conjured said, “Hi,” then gave a little chest high wave, the very replica of Elora’s quirky little greetin’. My head turned toward the gloved hand that waved and I realized that the colors ‘round me were comin’ back to life. I was feelin’ my body as I had no’ for, I did no’ know exactly how long, days I supposed.

I looked up into the doppelganger’s face and saw concern. ‘Twas then I decided she was no’ the creation of madness. ‘Twas the one thing, in the flesh, that could make me live. Elora Laiken.

My mind leapt to the next logical conclusion. She’d no’ gone home with Storm, but traveled halfway ‘round the world to find me. That could mean only one thing. She was mine.

I stepped toward her so that she had no choice but to back into the cabin. I could see that she had on her clothes for travelin’ and, perhaps, had been thinkin’ about leavin’. That was no’ gonna happen.

I could no’ take my eyes away from her beautiful face.

“Um, nice place.” She sounded nervous and began talkin’ faster than usual. “I just dropped by to say Happy Holidays and was on my way out. Liam brought me. Very nice man. Talks a lot. We came in a cart drawn by the biggest horse I ever saw. He built the fire and brought in more wood.” She gestured toward the hearth. “I had some of your ale to help warm up after the ride through the woods. I hope you don’t mind. It was very good.”

While she was talkin’, I pulled the knit hat away from her hair, the same one we’d bought together in New York, then ran my hand slowly over her head. I was grateful for the return of color so that I could savor each and every gorgeous unusual strand of hair. The feel of it between my fingers was so marvelous I wanted to close my eyes in ecstasy, but did no’ dare take my eyes away from her. Just in case she did turn out to be an illusion, I did no’ want it to end.

“Where are you goin’ in such a hurry?” I said smilin’ with all the joy I felt in my heart and perhaps a bit of a leer as well.

“I, ah, want to be back in the village before dark. Great to see you. Gotta go.”

I was choosin’ to ignore her, slowly unwindin’ the scarf from ‘round her neck, bein’ sure that I was blockin’ her path to the door. I let her go once. ‘Twas no’ gonna happen again. “There’s plenty of time,” I said, “and you’ve come such a very long way.” My words were remindin’ even myself of the wolf in the story about the red-hooded lass, but I was no’ about to be deterred by that comparison. “Why do you no’ stay for tea? And tell me the true reason for your visit? After that I will take you to the village if you still want to go.”

‘Twas a lie. I was never willin’ly lettin’ her out of sight again.

I began undoin’ the buttons on her coat, indulgin’ in a brush with the close proximity of her cleavage beneath. She shivered in response to my touch and, naturally that delighted me no end.

“And did I mention how very glad I am to see you?” I asked.

I pushed her coat back from her shoulders and draped it over a bare limb of the sculptured tree coat rack by my door.

She wore a prim little sweater with a neckline that began just under her clavicle. It was white and appeared to be cashmere. The sweater thrilled me in odd ways. I knew she’d worn white because I’d told her I liked seein’ her in it. She wanted to please me. And, gods knew, I wanted to spend the rest of eternity pleasin’ her.

I took the little collar of the sweater between my fingers and said, “Soft.” Raisin’ my eyes to meet hers I could see that she had heard the unmistakable innuendo. Her breath was becomin’ shallow.

She shook her head a little and said, “I can’t stay for tea unless you make tea, Rammel.”

I dropped my hand, but smiled like a man who had won no’ just the battle, but the war. There was no hurry. We would take things at her pace. I began to remove my outerwear, notin’ her interest with great satisfaction. I took off the scarf, coat and tartan leavin’ me in boots, my sileathers and a long-sleeved tee. She was watchin’ me as closely as if I was an unpredictable predator.

I poked the fire, makin’ room for another log, and went to the kitchen to start tea. Elora was still standin’ exactly where I'd left her by the door. The nervous chatter had turned to uncharacteristic quiet and I wondered if she was afraid of bein’ alone with me.

I turned my attention to puttin’ her at ease. “Sit down. Please. Tea standin’ up is no’ nearly as good.” She looked at the couch like it was some kind of elaborate trap, but made no move to sit. So I continued. “How long have you been here?”

“I don’t know. Couple of hours?” she said absently, still studyin’ the couch like it was a trick question.

I pumped water into the tea kettle, brought it to the hearth, and hung it on the hinge. “How was the trip?”

“It was… liberating, the first time I’ve traveled without people I know. It made me feel… free. Independent. Even though the details were skillfully worked out by Ms. Farnsworth.”

I saw that Elora was still tryin’ to decide where to sit. “Are ye cold?”

She shook her head no and smiled. I took that as a good sign. I mean a smile is never a bad thing. Right?

I left her to go back to the kitchen and assemble a tea service, realizin’ that, for the first time in days, I was hungry. I had my back to her, but was gratified when she initiated conversation.

“So, partner, in all the time we spent together, you never got around to telling me you’re a royal? A prince even? Liam was worried about having ‘spoke out of turn’.”

My head came up in reflex and I stopped for a moment before resumin’ the work of assemblin’ a tea tray.

I did no’ turn ‘round, but began answerin’ her question while still puttin’ together the tray.

“As far as I’m concerned, I’m Sir Hawking, no’ Prince Hawking. I’ve earned my knighthood a dozen times over. I did nothin’ to become a prince except have the dubious fortune to be born royal. I never wanted people I work with to think of me as different, probably for the same reason you do no’ like it when Storm calls you Princess.”

“How did you know I don’t like it? I never said.”

I looked over my shoulder and had to smile at that. “’Tis my job to pay attention to you, Elora.”

“Do Storm and Kay know? About your, uh, family?”

“Aye. We’ve spent a lot of time together. 'Tis little we do no’ know about one another.” After a short pause I added, “Probably.”

I carried the wood tray in and set it on the tree stump table near the fire. Elora had settled at the far end of the sofa nearest the door. I pulled the leather ottoman over and sat facin’ her, close enough that my knees were almost touchin’ hers. Close enough to make her heartbeat quicken if she was feelin’ what I was feelin’.

“The water will be hot in a minute or so.”

She looked at the fire, at the snow out the window, at the spot where our knees almost touched, and got lost in thought as she often did. I could tell by the way her eyes were unfocused. She went away on private, inner journeys where she sorted things out. I hoped that someday she would trust me enough to tell me about them. While she was busy on a flight of fancy, I took the opportunity to move just a little closer and rest my hands on her knees.

I was absently tracin’ small circles on the leggin’s coverin’ her thigh when the tea kettle began to whistle. She jumped and I laughed. The sound seemed to rumble in my chest like I was tryin’ to shake off rust.

“Welcome back.” I could no’ resist teasin’ her. To be fair, the kettle was loud. I’d always liked it that way and was used to it. “I’ve got Irish Breakfast, Earl Grey, Orange Pekoe, Black, and some very fine hot chocolate I brought just in case you might be here one day.”

“Yes, indeed,” she smiled. “I would like some of your very fine hot chocolate, Sir Hawking. 'Twould be grand in fact.”

“Your wish is my pleasure, Lady Laiken,” I said, carefully pourin’ steamin’ water over her chocolate and stirrin’ thoroughly before handin’ her the cup. “I also have biscuits.” I held up a plate of baked goodness.

She looked at them and dropped her chin. “Those are cookies, Ram.”

“No’ here. Here, they are biscuits.”

I began to steep some Irish Breakfast for myself while sayin’, “And now you will tell me the details of how fortune has blessed me with the privilege of servin’ you chocolate on this fine winter day.”

She closed her eyes when she took a sip, then returned her cup and saucer to the tray.

“I was actually on the tarmac, ready to leave with Storm. The jet had landed and was taxiing.” I nodded, wantin’ her to continue. “He kissed me. For the first time.”

That was no’ what I’d wanted to hear. Every muscle in my body went taut at that revelation, but I worked hard to keep my features passive. Scarin’ her off was no’ on my agenda.

She stopped and ran her eyes over me, noticin’ a change in my posture, but continued. “And what happened was strange. I have no explanation and probably never will. It gave me a jolt - like an electrical shock - that felt real and physically painful. In the space of a couple of seconds I saw this parade of images, all memories of you, including the night we, um, found out that aphrodisiacs are not a myth.”

She remembered. I held my breath, eager to hear the rest.

After a big sigh, she said, “I couldn’t go with Storm. You were right. It wouldn’t be fair to him because I don’t know how to be happy without you.” She looked at me with expectation. I did no’ want to disappoint her with my reaction. So I searched her eyes tryin’ to glean what she needed from me. “And it wouldn’t be fair to you because...”

That was all I needed to hear. In one motion I rose to my feet, pullin’ her with me. I took her in my arms and clung to her like the salvation she was. She arched her body into mine just as I leaned forward to crush a kiss onto her tremblin’ mouth. If I lived to be a thousand, I assure you nothin’ would ever feel so perfect as that moment. ‘Twas as if we had been cast in a mold as a pair, then separated, and reunited. I was gloryin’ in the feel of her and thinkin’ about the next step when, suddenly, she broke the kiss and pulled away.

“There’s a reason why I was leaving, Ram, why I was going to be gone before you got back.” Wait. What? “Because I can’t do palace life. No matter how I feel about you, I can never go back to that. It swallows me up. It smothers me. And it’s possible you could be king someday.”

“Elora,” I gently pulled her back to me where she belonged, “you must have faith that we’re well matched. I’ll no’ ask you to do anything you do no’ want. Ever. If you never want to set foot in my brother’s house, then we will no’. If circumstances put kingship in my path and you ask me to pass on the crown, I’d be glad for it because, truly, ‘tis the last thing I want.”

Elora tilted her head to the side. “You have that choice?” She studied my face. “Liam told me you used to run away.”

“Aye. Understand this. The only person who can force me to do anything is you.”

“Really?”

I was thinkin’ perhaps she sounded a bit too intrigued by the possibilities. But no matter. There was nothin’ I would deny her.

She stepped back into close contact with my body as I enveloped her in my arms. Buryin’ her face in my neck I heard her drag in a sniff of my smell and I laughed softly, knowin’ she was utterly and completely mine. Her body moved closer to mine, meltin’ against me in the perfect fit of a true mate.

“So you will no’ be needin’ a ride to the town then.”

I knew the answer o’ course, but could no’ resist the pleasure of feelin’ smug. She raised her chin and opened her mouth to reply, but whatever she intended to say was muffled by a consumin’ kiss ever so much more potent than memory.

I growled in approval when she responded by tanglin’ her tongue with mine, her breath comin’ ever faster. My hand found its way beneath her sweater, straight to a nipple standin’ at attention just beggin’ to be touched.

I scowled when she pulled away sayin’, “Just a minute.”

I saw the flush on her face, the shine in her eyes, and knew she was ready for me. So ‘twas most confusin’ when she left the business of love makin’ to go fishin’ ‘round in her backpack.

In less than a minute, she said, “Here they are!” and waved three strips of neon-bright condoms in the air. “Heart Throbs. Guaranteed feminine satisfaction.”

My ego was reelin’ as I tried to imagine why she thought I would no’ take care of her needs. “And you do no’ think I can guarantee feminine satisfaction?”

She laughed. “I know you can, but we need protection. I mean, I guess we got lucky last time, but…”

‘Twas excitin’ that she had come prepared and ‘twas further evidence that she had already reached a conclusion of the inevitability of us, before she’d arrived. ‘Tis also flatterin’ to any male when his lover chooses extra large, even when it is the only possible option.

I was elated by the fact that she’d thought about us in an intimate way and I hated to bring her excitement to a sober end, but ‘twas clear she did no’ understand we did no’ need protection from pregnancy. There would be no pregnancy in our future.

That thought must have been reflected on my face because she looked both serious and deflated. “What is it, Ram?” she asked.

It has been my experience that there’s no’ really a way to soften hard truths. Like pullin’ off a bandaid, ‘tis best to simply be out with it. So I said, “Elora, my darlin’, elves and humans are rarely matched by the Fates. When it does occur, there is no procreation.”

“We won’t have children?”

I shook my head no.

She sunk down onto the couch behind her. I realized that I had come to terms with no’ havin’ elflings, but had no’ considered that it might be a hard thing for her as well. I pulled the ottoman in front of her and sat down, once again puttin’ my hands on her knees. I found it impossible to no’ be touchin’ her now that I had carte blanche to do so.

She searched my eyes. “So that’s why you said having children wasn’t important.”

At first I did no’ recall havin’ said that, but it did come back to me. “Our day in Manhattan. Aye. I said 'tis no’ important. And I meant it.”

“You’re not disappointed?”

“Disappointed! My darlin’ girl, I’m the farthest thing from that. I consider myself to be the luckiest elf in the world.” I hoped she heard it for the truth ‘twas. I took her hand, kissed her knuckles without takin’ my eyes from hers, and said, “Besides, there are little ones who are left alone in the world through no fault of their own. We could be their mum and da. Make them ours.”

I saw her eyes mist over just before she reached over to trace the scar that ran down my face. No one would be callin’ me ‘pretty boy’ again anytime soon.

She smiled and said, “Adopt.”

“Aye. Adopt.”

“There’s really nothing about you that isn’t wonderful, is there?”

I tried to think of a way to answer that question with humility, but decided that ‘twas more important that my mate be pleased with her male. So I smiled and said, “No. There’s no’.” I pulled her to her feet again, pressed her close, and grew serious. What I wanted most in that moment was to impress upon her that we had a future to look forward to. “We’ll be happy, Elora. I swear it.”

I believed she’d know I do no’ take swearin’ lightly. I would let nothin’ stand in the way of givin’ her what she needed to be happy.

“And there’s another benefit to bein’ elf and human.”

“What is it?”

“I do no’ think I could remain erect while wearin’ the tart pink or the fiery orange.”

“But lime yellow works for you?” She laughed. “Well, I guess that gives us some time to get to know each other, just the two of us.”

“All the better to have my way with you, my dear.” I deliberately referenced that story about the wolf and nuzzled her neck, feelin’ the shivers go down her body. I hoped we were done with conversation for the time bein’, but no’ quite.

“The night I was drugged you said you wanted the first time to be… not like that.”

“Aye. I did say that.” I was twirlin’ the pearl buttons on her sweater.

“So show me what you had in mind.”

“Can no’.”

“Why no’?” She teased mimickin’ my accent.

“Because, all those nights I was lyin’ in my bed alone thinkin’ about bein’ with you, what I pictured was a slow burn savorin’ of every inch of this heavenly body. But these past days, I thought you were lost to me… seemed more like years in hel than days. I do no’ think I’m good for anything right now but hard and fast.” I pulled her close, walkin’ her backwards. “I need you to wrap yourself around me and hold on tight while I pound into you, balls flyin’, both of us knowin’ beyond question that you are mine.”

Her lips parted as her eyes moved from my eyes to my mouth and back again. “That,” she swallowed, “sounds good, too.”

It took little time to divest ourselves of clothing and be as we were meant to be, gloriously naked and fallin’ onto my bed together. Feelin’ her bare skin, next to mine… Knowin’ she was in complete control of her faculties and choosin’ me was by far the most erotic thing that had ever happened to me.

I was desperate for every touch, every one of her little gasps and sexy sounds. The more intense was my desire for her, the more she responded.

She did no’ beg, but I could see the word ‘please’ in her eyes. I plunged into her and ravished her with a ferocity that I did no’ know I had in me.

The short winter day was givin’ way to darkness. I raised myself up to look into her eyes in the dim light. Never saw anything as beautiful as the woman lyin’ with me, lookin’ like ‘twas where she belonged.

I knew the answer, but asked just to hear her put the words in the air to forever float around the world. “Are ye mine then?”

“Completely.”

I could no’ have fantasized a more perfect answer nor a more perfect mate.

Feelin’ the night chill begin to set in, I rose and closed the shutters before settin’ about rekindlin’ the fire and startin’ a second smaller fire in the kitchen. ‘Twas my secret hope that she would like the cottage and want to return there with me from time to time, so I wanted to be sure she was comfortable.

As I was makin’ adjustments to the way the fire was banked, I had the idea of havin’ dinner there on the floor, near the hearth. I’d seen something similar in romantic movies I’d watched as “homework”.

I pulled cushions from the sofa to make a soft place to sit and assembled roast chicken, bread, cheese, and ale on a tray. Since I had no’ eaten anything Moira had sent for me, there was plenty.

“What are we doing?” she said.

“Havin’ dinner by the fire. Come.”

She pulled the fur throw around her as she rose and walked on bare feet to join me, smilin’, her hair a glorious mess of color and tousle.

As she sat, I pulled a bit of chicken away and held it toward her lips. She latched on with her teeth, takin’ it from my hand, and I found that feedin’ her in that way satisfied me to the marrow. It also seemed to interest my cock, no’ that most things she did were no’ interestin’ to the fucker.

When I was sure she’d had her fill of our hand to mouth repast, I began to pull the sable throw away from her body. Her hands jerked up to cover the still-red marks where deep wounds were healed over, but no’ faded.

Knowin’ that she was self-conscious because of marks received in the line of duty, specifically huntin’ down the vampire that had scarred me and left me for dead, my heart clenched in my chest like a vice grip. I could no’ stand the thought of her feelin’ shame about her body. No’ with me.

I made no issue of it then, but filed it away in my heart as a sort of to do list of how I would find ways, at the right time and in the right place, to assure her that she was worshipped exactly as she was, that I would no’ change a hair on her head.

I laid the fur over the cushions so that it made a small bed for one person or two people very close to one another.

“Now let’s see about the savorin’,” I smiled as I urged her to lie with me.

I had determined that I would be painstakin’ in showin’ my mate that she was adored in every way. I took my time learnin’ her body and mind, explorin’ what touches would ignite her passion, how hard, how soft, how fast, how slow. All the tiny catches of breath, the low murmurs and moans, the pressure she applied when she clutched at me in reponse, I catalogued in my mind so that I might become the perfect mate for her. I learned what every squeal, giggle, gasp, cry, shout, growl, moan, murmur, and purr meant and I reveled in every sound elicited. But none was as good to the ears as her mantra. “Ah, Ram. You feel so good.”

Education had never been so good and she made it easy, bein’ exceptionally expressive physically and emotionally, and no’ shy about lettin’ me know the difference between good and ecstasy. I spent extra time where the evidence of her wounds remained. I bathed those places in little kisses, licks, and nuzzles until there could be no doubt in her mind that I loved all of her.

She returned the favor by ministerin’ to my own scars in seriously sensual ways and found out that an elf’s ears are sensitive to the ministrations of a mate. When she licked her way ‘round my ears, she delighted in my shivers, sayin’. “I’ve been wanting to do that ever since the night I discovered that elves are real in your world.”

“Our world,” I corrected.

“I guess so,” she replied as if she had no’ completely committed to the idea.

When the fire needed tendin’, I urged her to climb back in bed and warm herself beneath the covers. I put a green log on the coals with a smatterin’ of kindlin’ wood and threw myself onto the bed next to Elora.

She was quiet, but that was okay because I had the sense about me that she was content. I lay on top of the covers starin’ at the ceilin’ and, for some reason, blurted out, “I’ve no’ had a woman in my bed before. Ever. Just wanted you to know.”

In light of the fact that I’d never shared the cottage with anyone, ‘twas surprisin’ that it felt so natural. Comfortable.

“You mean this bed?”

I turned to look at her so that we were mere inches apart. “I mean any bed designated as mine whether permanent or temporary. No' hotel or tent or Romanian fortress.”

She leaned up on one elbow so that she was lookin’ down on me.

“Was there someone in a Romanian fortress who wanted to crawl in bed with you?”

I ran my hand slowly down her bare arm. “You tell me.”

“You’ll never know,” she said playfully as she reached down and lightly drug her fingers up my thigh until she held my balls in her hand. Literally and figuratively.

She apparently got the reaction she wanted, because she began to massage in earnest in ways that would be sophisticated for a sex worker.

“And just where did you learn that, Little Miss Innocence?“

“On the plane to Edinburgh,” she said with a casual toss of her head. “Vogue Magazine. “’The Lost Art of the Handjob’.” She smiled wickedly. “Like it?”

“Astoundin'.” She had my rapt attention right up until my dick spurted like the Epcot Fountain of Nations.

Elora was lookin’ at my male bits with a wide-eyed fascination that as much as said she’d never seen an ejaculation before. It occurred to me that she probably had no’. Her reaction was a little comical, but also special. I found I liked bein’ her first ‘handjob’.

“Let’s do it again,” she gushed with an excitement that would have been contagious at a later time.

I laughed, pullin’ her hand away from my cock, a thing I could never have pictured a few hours earlier.

“I’ll be happy to oblige with a repeat performance, but my balls need a little break to manufacture more juice for your viewin’ pleasure.”

“Well, hurry up then! Consider it a Command Performance.”

I thought back to the day when I told Kay in my suite in Drac Unit that I had no choice but to love everything about her. ‘Twas true, o’ course, but those were just words I’d been taught since childhood. The reality of matin’ went far beyond the mundane limits of description. It was perfection. Pure joie de vivre.

I loved that she was so responsive to my touch, so demandin’ when excited, so greedy for my cock, and receptive to new experiences. Last, but no’ least, she was affectionate to a fault. And I was contented as an elf can be.

I rose durin’ the night to put more logs on the fire and poke at it. While I was up, I shoved bites of cheese, chicken, crackers, and apple into my mouth like I’d been a starvin’ man. And I suppose that was true because I had no‘ eaten for a couple of days. When I was full, I climbed back into bed, the same bed that had been cold all my life, but ‘twas now toasty warm with Elora’s elevated temperature. My eyelids grew instantly heavy listenin’ to the sweet, rhythmic lullaby of her breathing. I turned into her, gently spoonin’ so as no’ to wake her, and fell right away into the sleep of the enchanted.

The next time I roused I knew without openin’ my eyes that ‘twas light outside. Runnin’ my hand across the sheet next to me, eyes still closed, I found the bed was missin’ an extra warm body. My first reaction was an unreasonin’ fear that I had imagined that the Lady Laiken had found her way across the sea and into my bed in my grandfather’s New Forest huntin’ cottage.

Hearin’ something from behind in the kitchen, I rolled over. What to my wonderin’ eyes then appeared was Elora’s behind as she bent over peerin’ into a lower cabinet. The word JUICY was proudly displayed across her exquisite derriere and I indulged in a silent laugh of delight. The day before had begun in a pit of despair, with plans to write final letters, but it had ended in rapture.

Without gettin’ up, I said, “I knew those very fine pants would look amazin’ on your gorgeous arse.”

She turned her head. “You said ‘very fetchin’ britches’. And I said you don’t have permission to talk about my gorgeous ass. But thank you for the present. And the compliment. Happy Yule.”

I grinned for the pure joy of havin’ my beautiful mate sassin’ me proper first thing in the mornin’.

“What are you lookin’ for?”

She stood and turned around. With the JUICY pants, she was wearin’ a white, long sleeve tee with no bra and fuzzy brown slippers with moose heads. I was certain ‘twould no’ be possible for a person to be cuter.

“Breakfast. I found peanut butter. Which looks and smells really good right now, but it has to be an import. I’m sure they used fuel-powered machinery to make it so it must be contraband.” She narrowed her eyes. “Have you been bad?”

“I have been bad, but no’ with peanut butter. ‘Tis legal. Will there be enough left for me?”

“I can’t say. We’ll have to wait and see.”

At that I got up and strode toward the kitchen allowin’ her to look her fill on the grand sight of a healthy, young elf first thing in the mornin’. When she realized that I and my erection were headed straight toward her, she laughed and moved to the other side of the butcher block island, puttin’ it squarely between the two of us.

“Oh. No sir,” she said. “I’m hungry. Keep that very fine penis away from me unless it’s covered in peanut butter.”

Well, no’ bein’ one to dodge a challenge, I was thinkin’ that sounded like a fine idea. And, I might add, one I would no’ have thought of on my own. Probably.

Seein’ the look on my face, I knew she could tell where my mind had headed. She did no’ have to wait long for confirmation. I reached for the peanut butter jar, pulled a huge dollop away with two fingers and began dressin’ my, what was it she’d said?, very fine penis. Felt surprisin’ly good goin’ on and my cock was distendin’ just thinkin’ there was a possibility of havin’ peanut butter removed by Elora’s tongue. Preferably painstakin’ly slowly.

I watched her lips part in the most attractive way as I covered every centimeter with peanut goodness. When her tongue peeked out to wet her lips, I swear I felt a drop of precum rise to the tip.

Suckin’ the excess from my fingers, I held out my arms and said, “Well?”

“Diabolical,” she replied, but there was a generous hint of interest underneath the straight face she showed me.

I wiggled my eyebrows. “Love spelled backward is evol.”

She moved in front of me and lowered herself like a debutante at a comin’ out party, never takin’ her eyes away from the peanut butter treat attached to my body. When her tongue emerged from her lips, my cock jumped of its own accord.

I grabbed onto the base with one hand to hold the fucker still for her, but she replaced my hand with hers and set to work givin’ me the most amazin’ blowin’ in the history of sex. By the time she’d cleaned off the gooey mixture, I was aroused past reason.

I took her from behind, bent over the butcher block island and, judgin’ from the sounds she made, she liked it every bit as much as I did. I leaned over her so that she could feel my breath on her ear when I said, “This was my fantasy when I gave you these lovely britches.”

As I looked over Elora’s head at the front door, I had the unwelcome thought that it might no’ be locked. Since I’d asked Liam to look in on me, as a ruse to make sure the horse was no’ abandoned, I began to fear havin’ someone walk in and see my mate in a compromised position. I could no’ abide the sort of interruption that would steal the moment, so I reasoned that the best option was to hurry things along. I found her nub with my fingers and massaged so that we might come at the same time.

Without statin’ my reasons for doin’ so, I hurriedly pulled up the JUICY pants.

Elora smirked at me. “So this was really a Yule present for yourself. That means you owe me a present.”

“Anything you want.” And I never meant anything more.

After pullin’ on pants and a Henley, I poured some hot mulled wine into the kettle and set it on the edge of the hearth. While I was slicin’ the loaf of bread Moira sent, I explained how the plumbin’ worked.

“If you want, I can fill the tub with water from the hot spring.”

The radiant smile on her face told me she thought that was a brilliant idea, so I pumped water until the kitchen was filled with steam.

Makin’ sure the door was locked, I climbed into the tub first and, restin’ against the curved back, gestured for Elora to lie back against me.

Even though I’d had the best night’s sleep of my life, I was gettin’ drowsy in the quiet calmin’ closeness of Elora, skin to skin.

I roused when she said, “So you were huntin’ yesterday?”

“Oh, no. The creatures in the New Forest are under the protection of the king. My brother owns everything here.”

“You were carrying a bow.”

“For self defense. Some of the creatures in the wood have no’ got the memo that this is a more civilized time.”

She rearranged the linen square that was coverin’ her abdomen from view. “I’ve decided you’re officially an enigma; an elf who shreds metal, worships Metallica, and chooses to retreat to a society that bans electricity.”

“An enigma, hmmm? Well, I'm hopin' that will keep you interested for a long, long time.”

I felt her muscles tense. “What do you mean? I thought mates are forever.”

“Aye, in elfdom ‘tis true. But I’ve observed that humans are no’ always so…committed. Seems that, for humans, ‘ever after’ is hard to come by.”

She was silent for a bit before sayin’, “My people don’t divorce. We choose. Then marry and stay together. I’ll never leave you, Ram. No matter what.”

At those words, I felt all worry give way. “My darlin’ girl, you ease the fear in my heart.”

“Please don’t let there be uncertainty between us,” she said. “You’re my charming prince.”

The idea of that made me chuckle, knowin’ that there was often such a figure in her beloved stories and that he was an idealized fantasy. I knew that I would like very much to be that for her.

“Agreed,” I said, thinkin’ ‘twould be a good time to press the point about her self-consciousness. “Please do no’ let there be shame between us either.”

“Shame?”

“Elora…” I stopped to gather my thoughts, knowin’ that words can no’ be recovered once spoken, “…first, I love that my woman is the first female knight in the history of Black Swan. It honors me more than I can say. I hate that you went into that tunnel without your team, but I love and admire you for it, too. Please do no’ hide from me. The sight of your body, as it is this very hour, could no’ excite me more. If you bear these marks forever, you will still be the most beautiful female in the world to me. What can I do to convince you ‘tis so?”

For some time she gave no response. I did no’ push further, but let her digest my opinion, for better or worse. At length she set the cloth away, wrung it out and hung it over the side of the tub.

I pulled her head back onto my shoulder and kissed her temple, bein’ greatly honored that she believed and trusted me.

At length she said, “What will we do about Black Swan?”

No’ really wantin’ to think about anything outside the copper tub in which we sat, I sighed. “How did you leave things with Storm?”

“He said he wasn’t surprised, that anyone could see we were in love, and that he doesn’t have regrets about anything.”

In a way that was the sort of thing I’d expect from Storm. In another way his admission that he knew we were meant for each other was shockin’. ‘Twas cruel of the Fates to throw my mate in his path. After all, who would no’ fall in love with her given half a chance?

“When we get back we’ll go to Sol and explain that we’ll marry.” When she said nothin’ in reply, I added, with a little anxiety, “You do plan to marry me?”

Her hesitation worried me.

“As proposals go…” She pulled the cloth back into the water and began to bathe with it, runnin’ it over her face and arms, dippin’, squeezin’, repeatin’.

At a loss for patience, finally I said, “Aye? As proposals go…”

“That may not be the worst one ever, but I think you can do better.”

I relaxed and sat back, knowin’ it was merely a matter of findin’ the words that would please her. “How’s this then? Tell me your dreams so I can make them come true.”

She did no’ turn around, but I could tell she smiled. “Much better. And, yes, if you promise to make my dreams come true, I will marry you.” She chuckled. “What do you think Black Swan’s policy will be regardin’ married knights?”

Truthfully, I found nothin’ amusin’ about that prospect. When I came to my cottage, I did no’ expect to return to Black Swan. I expected to expire of grief. Since Elora’s arrival, I had no’ confronted the notion of her bein’ a knight in the field again.

“So…” I began slowly. “You’re thinkin’ you will return to active duty?”

At that, she did turn around, sloshin’ water everywhere, to face me.

“Of course.” I watched her gaze flick to the scar on my face and travel down the path the vampire’s knife had taken before comin’ back to my eyes. A new clarity settled on her expression. “Oh. You thought that, because of the incident, I wouldn’t go back to B Team.” I remained still without a flinch or shrug or blink. “Are you giving it up? Because of what happened to you?”

I took in a deep breath and really considered the idea of movin’ on to something else, while we still could. While I was runnin’ scenarios in my head, tryin’ to imagine doin’ something other than huntin’ vampire, she interrupted my thoughts.

“What are you thinking?”

“I’d think ‘tis too big a decision to make in haste.”

She nodded. “I see that.”

“Would you like to get out?”

“Okay. Sure.” She looked ‘round and started to rise from the tub.

I took hold of her wrist. “No. I meant would you like to get out of the cottage? See some of the New Forest? Maybe go for a ride?”

She grinned. “Would love it.”

An hour later we stepped inside the stable. She walked around like the queen while I hauled tack and began dressin’ the beasts for an outin’.

“This is nice, Ram. South facing. Tight against the wind. I’ll take that one.”

When she pointed to my mare, I was almost speechless. “Ah…” I said, like a dullard. “I’ve already put my saddle on her.”

“Well, here,” she said, smiling brightly. “Let me help you make the switch.”

“I, em, I’m no’ sure this is the right mount for you. She can be temperamental at times and she’s used to me.”

“Oh, don’t worry. She’ll get used to me.”

Don’t worry?

I frowned, no’ wantin’ to insult her, but no’ wantin to have this outin’ end badly either. “I really think you’d be more comfortable on the geldin’. He’ll be inclinded to do as ye ask whereas my mare has a mind of her own and spends her time thinkin’ up deviltry to give me a challenge.”

She laughed. “Now I know you’re exaggerating. Look at it this way. If I fall, it won’t hurt me.”

She had me there. Under my breath, I said, “Paddy bless mischievous mares and stubborn women.”

“What was that?” asked Elora.

“Oh, nothin’.” I pulled my saddle off my mare with a huff. The horse pricked her ears forward and looked at me as if wonderin’ what was up. I did no’ say more, but went about dressin’ the horses for a ride.

“Come let me help you up,” I said. I bent and cupped my hands for her left foot. “Put your left boot right here in my hand and I’ll give you a boost. She’s tall, as you see. Almost fifteen hands.”

When Elora was mounted, I handed her the reins. “Nudge her gently with your heels to ‘go’. Hold the reins in your hands like this, no’ too much pressure, no’ too much slack. If she moves to go somewhere you are no’ directin’, pull back, but no’ hard enough to hurt her.”

Elora nodded as if she was understandin’ me, but I was no’ too sure and hoped I was makin’ the right decision, lettin’ her try ridin’ on a horse like that.

I swung my body up onto the geldin’, turned to Elora, and said, “Ready?”

She said, “Um hum,” then laughed out loud and kicked my mare hard in the ribs. She shot out of the stable, in front of the cottage, and jumped the stream in a fluid motion that told me in a flash I’d made a fool’s assumption that she was no’ already a rider. The geldin’ was eyein’ me over his shoulder. “What are you lookin’ at?”

She led me on a chase for twenty minutes before pullin’ up to let the geldin’ catch up.

“Very funny,” I said.

Her laugh was made exponentially gorgeous by the color in her cheeks and the surroundin’ woods. “Like your horse, lover.”

“Aye. Me, too. Want to trade?”

She chuckled. “Maybe tomorrow.” I shook my head. “So give me a tour of this very magical place.”

“Magical,” I repeated, lookin’ around. “Aye. ‘Tis magical,” I agreed. We walked the horses through the east part of the woods for another hour.

“This is wonderful, Ram. Can we do it again tomorrow?”

“O’ course,” I said, overjoyed that she was at home both on a horse and in my woods. “Are ye hungry?”

“Yes. The peanut butter was very good…”

I interrupted with a wicked smile. “I concur.”

“…but I need more than love to sustain me.”

I nodded and turned the horse ‘round. “You ride as well as an elf. In case you do no’ know it, ‘tis a high compliment indeed.”

“Thank you, then. I rode all my life at… home. I was competing in equestrian events by the time I was ten.”

I realized then that there was still so much about my mate that I did no’ know and I looked forward to uncoverin’ each story includin’ the secrets buried within.

I made a stew of the remainin’ chicken, root vegetables, and a glass jar of green beans. Elora could no’ wait so I sliced the rest of the bread loaf and handed her a skewer.

“Here,” I said. “Take this to the hearth and toast it to your likin’ over the fire.”

She took both, lookin’ pleased and said, “How very cottagey.”

“You know you just sounded like a brat.”

“Even if I did, you can’t say so. You’re supposed to adore me.”

“I do adore you, faults and all.”

“Ugh!” she replied. “You’re not supposed to see my faults.”

I chuckled. “Sorry.”

“Okay, then, what are they?”

“Oh, no.”

Stepped in it, idjit.

I shook my head vigorously, gettin’ very busy with stew stirrin’. “No’ a road I’m goin’ down.”

“You started it.”

“A fact for which I could kick my own arse.”

“Tell me.”

“No’ a chance.”

“I will withhold sex.”

I barked a laugh at that. “Elora. I believe I could easier make that threat than you.”

Her brows drew together as she thought that over, seemin’ to come to the same conclusion.

“Okay. Tell me what I want to know and tomorrow I’ll let you ride your own horse.”

“Very generous of ye.”

“I thought so.”

When I did no’ say more, she finally pressed. “Well?” She took a bite of the toast at the end of her skewer. “This is good. I think it’s somehow better when you do it yourself over a fire.”

I nodded. “You want jam?”

“No. You’re changing the subject.”

“Imagine that.”

“Just one.”

“One what?”

“You’re being deliberately exasperating.”

“Somehow that seems better than bein’ accidentally exasperatin’.”

“Gods on fire, Ram. Tell me what I want to know!”

“Just one?”

“Yes.”

“And then you’ll leave it be?”

She narrowed her eyes and took another bite of toast. “Maybe.” She said it so slowly ‘twas almost like an elf song, intended to enchant me into doin’ her will.

“No maybes. If you promise to leave the subject behind, I will name one fault.”

“Okay, I agree. On the condition that the one you name is the thing about me that you like the least.”

“Done. The thing I like least about you is that you want to be a vampire hunter. I knew ‘twas goin’ to be near impossible to go in the field with ye, worried out of my mind that something might happen. But now that it has happened, I’m no’ sure how to do it and remain sane.”

Elora set the skewer and the remainin’ toast down next to where I was workin’, put her arms ‘round my neck and kissed me into believin’ I could die happy at that moment because nothin’ could ever be better.

“We have six days left to talk it through.”

The remainin’ days flew away like sparks in a wind. ‘Twas a whirl of elemental and sensual pleasures, accompanied by mulled wine and laughter. She was more beautiful with every day that passed and my hunger for her seemed to grow rather than recede. The more I got of her, the more I wanted and I knew I would never get enough if I lived to be two hundred.

I greeted Liam and his cart in front of the cottage on the day we were to leave and returned to fetch Elora’s things. She was standin’ in the middle of the room in her travelin’ clothes, lookin’ like leavin’ was the last thing she wanted.

I thought about tellin’ her we did no’ have to go, but we’d hashed it every which way and made our decision. And I knew she’d hold firm to it and no’ be moved.

So I came up behind, encircled her in my arms, and said, “We’ll be back.”

“Promise?”

“Oh, aye.” I nuzzled her neck feelin’ pleased that she loved the New Forest as she did. “‘Tis one of the best parts of happily ever after.”

CHAPTER 30

Sol was surprised that we were back a day early, but we wanted to get things straightened out before Storm and Kay were due to report.

He steepled his hands as he always did when makin’ decisions.

“Suitable for a married couple? Has to be the oddest request I’ve ever received. I guess you just can’t keep a good office romance down, huh?” Elora and I exchanged a quick glance. “Matter of fact,” he said, “I’d already agreed to loan B Team to Edinburgh temporarily. Things are pretty quiet around here since so many vampire have met their end. So I’d ask you to stay on for one more assignment before we talk about permanent change.”

I knew my mouth was standin’ open. “Fairyland! You did no’ agree to send us there, temporary or otherwise.”

“Don’t worry, Hawking. Your teammates will watch your back.” I could no’ believe he was dismissin’ my concerns like they were irrelevant. “Lady Laiken, you’re unusually quiet. Do you have similar concerns about Scotia?”

She shook her head. “No. I don’t care about the assignment as long as he’s there.” I could no’ help but grin at that, even in the face of bein’ assigned to the land of fairies. “It’s Blackie. I understand that, technically, he belongs to Jefferson Unit, but I think he’d be happier with me.”

Sol smiled. “Consider him a wedding present from Jefferson Unit. We’ll make sure the usual quarantines are lifted. Be ready to leave in four days.”

I had been at Jefferson Unit long enough to know when I’d been dismissed by the Sovereign. I was turnin’ to leave when I realized Elora was no’ with me. I turned to see she’d run ‘round the desk to give Sol a big kiss on the cheek.

Storm and Kay were back in time for dinner in The Mess. ‘Twas awkward with Storm and I hoped ‘twould be less so in time. I described Sol’s reaction to Elora’s kiss. “He turned pink as a Tequila Sunrise.” I laughed. “She rendered him speechless, which set a record so far as I know.”

Kay laughed with me, but Storm did no’ find it amusin’. Can no’ say I blamed him. When I thought I’d lost her, I did no’ take it well either.

Next morn I took Blackie out for a walk and stopped on the way back for a to go hot chocolate for my girl. But instead of greetin’ me, grabbin’ for the cocoa, I found her barfin’ in the toilet, lookin’ more green than pink.

I knelt beside her and pulled her hair back from her face, tryin’ my best to ignore the smell. “What in Paddy’s name, Elora?”

Lookin’ more like an impression of Linda Blair than herself, she snarled at me. “I’m sick! Duh!”

Well, ‘tis true that was obvious, and ill said, but she had made a point of tellin’ me she’d never been sick. “You said you never get sick.”

“I don’t!” she shouted and barely turned her head back to the toilet in time before throwin’ up again. I was glad it went in the can because she looked like she’d have been okay with spewin’ on me instead.

I wet a wash cloth with cold water. I’d seen that in a movie, I think, and gave it to her to put on her face and neck. Seemed to help a little, but no’ as much as I would’ve liked. When twenty minutes had passed, I thought her stomach had to be empty.

“Come on. We’re goin’ to the infirmary.”

“I have to brush my teeth. I won’t try to describe what my mouth feels like.”

I waited while she brushed her teeth.

“If you do no’ feel like walkin’, I can get them to come here or take you in a wheelchair.”

She looked tired and worn down as she raised her eyes to me. “I can walk. Let’s get this over with.”

‘Twas the same doctor I’d negotiated with to get my bed moved to Elora’s room. She told me to wait outside.

I paced ‘round the waitin’ area, no’ doin’ much of anything but, well, waitin’. My fear was that it had something to do with the introduction of the vampire virus into her system. I mean, who knew how an alien might react to such a thing? Those worries grew louder in my head with every minute that passed. ‘Twas near half an hour before a nurse came to tell me I could go in.

Elora was sittin’ on the side of the bed clearly no’ happy to see me. In fact, she was glarin’ at me. For the life of me, I could no’ imagine what I could have done to draw her anger.

“You said humans and elves don’t procreate.” ‘Twas said like an accusation and I must say, of all the things I was prepared to hear, that was no’ among them.

“They do no’,” I said defensively.

“Yes. They. Do. I’m pregnant!”

Well, obviously ‘twas no’ impossible for Elora to be pregnant. But ‘twas impossible for me to be the father. I will no’ go into the images that came into my head. Let it suffice to say that I was no’ pleased.

Still, the woman was mine. My mate. I was keepin’ her and her baby no matter what.

As if she could hear my thoughts, she said, ““Ram! Of course you are the father. This is bad enough without you thinking otherwise.”

“I… Well, makes no difference. You’re mine. You always will be. No matter what.”

Instead of bein’ relieved and grateful for my magnanimity and grace, she went from mad to irate in under two seconds. “Get. Me. Monq.”

I swear the woman was capable of bein’ scary when mad. Still I was brave enough to venture a question. “Why?”

“Because. Rammel. There is a perfectly logical explanation for this, and when it comes to solving mysteries, Monq is our go-to guy. Right?”

No’ wantin’ to antagonize her further in her delicate state, I thought it best to play along and humor her. So I took out my phone, which had eventually been found and given back to me, and called Monq.

“We need you in the infirmary to take a look at Elora and we’d appreciate you bein’ quick about it.”

“Again?” he said.

“Aye. Again.”

I put the phone back in my pocket and sat in the chair to wait for Monq. Elora used the time and her imagination to come up with inventive ways to torture me. I could tell by the way she looked at me.

Monq arrived ten minutes later. “Ms. Laiken.”

I opened my mouth to correct his use of improper salutation, but Elora spoke first. “Shut the door,” she ordered without greetin’ or any semblance of her usual pleasantries.

He did.

“I’m pregnant. Ram’s the father. He doesn’t believe it.”

Monq looked at me, then between the two of us, sayin’, “Well, first, congratulations. And, second,” he turned to me, “you don’t believe she’s pregnant or you don’t believe you’re the father?”

“Don’t be an arse. And I did no’ say that. Exactly.”

“He doesn’t believe he’s the father,” she huffed, makin’ me sound like a cad.

Monq said, “Why not?”

“Why no’ what?”

“Why do you not believe you’re the father?”

“Because elves and humans can no’ procreate.” As an afterthought, in the interest of precision, I added: “With each other. 'Tis a biological fact no' up to interpretation. The chromosomes do no’ line up. I did no’ just make this up. Everyone knows it.”

I was offended by the derisive bark of a laugh he let out in reaction to my pronouncement, and frowned at him. I was no’ crazy. I studied biology, courtesy of The Order, as a teenager.

“And what could you be findin’ amusin’ about this… situation?”

“She’s an elf, you idiot! Her DNA is 99.90% the same as yours. The .10% difference is that her ears are not pointed.”

I stared for a few seconds, my brain no’ seemin’ to respond to new information. Elora, on the other hand, was no’ slow on the uptake. She turned her malice on Monq, which was alright with me. I was glad to have her turn the ire in a different direction so I could catch a breather.

“And you didn’t think this was information you should pass along?” She challenged him to defend his thoughtlessness.

“First, is it my job to keep up on gossip and know that the two of you are an item? No. Second, aren’t elves supposed to recognize each other as mates? That didn’t happen in your case?”

I felt the frown recede from my face as a grin took its place. Certainly there had been clues. The way she sang. The way she rode. And just like that the revelation washed over me like the miracle ‘twas.

“Aye,” I said, feelin’ a deep seated wonder as magical as any of the ‘tales’ Elora loved so much. “‘Tis exactly what did happen. Great Paddy! We’re havin’ a baby.” I rushed at Elora and tried to kiss her, but she swatted me away like I was an annoyance. I was too elated to let that bother me. An image of my mum came to mind and I could see her doin’ a jig all over the palace at Derry, possibly creatin’ a national holiday. “I need to call my mother.”

I like my mother, but ‘twas probably the first time I was ever truly excited about the prospect of givin’ the old dame a call.

Lookin’ back at Elora, thinkin’ she would share this moment with me, I did no’ see the joy and elation that should have been there. What I saw instead was hurt and betrayal doin’ battle with royally pissed. ‘Twas when I knew I was in a shit hole of my own diggin’.

“Elora,” I started, “I’m sorry I reacted badly. I…”

She stopped me cold with a look that said I’d be better off no’ utterin’ another word. She slid off the bed, and walked out without turnin’ back.

Monq shrugged and said, “You’re on your own.”

I thought it best to give her a little time to get used to the idea of bein’ pregnant and havin’ a mate who did no’ believe her when she was tellin’ Paddy’s own truth. I knew I’d be welcome in the bar. So I headed there to seek out my old friend, Irish whiskey.

Several shots later I opened the door to her apartment with a speech I’d composed in collaboration with my friend, Irish whiskey. I never got the chance to deliver a word of it.

“Get out,” she said, before slammin’ the bedroom door closed.

I took that to mean that she needed more time to come to grips with the fact that she’d been claimed by a numbskull. So I drug myself to my own apartment next door and spent a very restless night there. It held the familiarity of a place where I’d spent time, but seemed to have lost all sign of life. I supposed that was because my entire life was next door alone with hurt feelin’s and me unable to console her because I was the culprit who did the hurtin’ though I’d sworn that would never happen.

I did no’ sleep well. My emotions were all over the place. I wanted to do penance for the crime I’d commited in denyin’ the truth of our good fortune. On the other hand, I was thrilled beyond measure with the very shockin’ news that I was goin’ to be Da to some little pink-haired elfling. After makin’ my peace with bein’ childless, ‘twas a big adjustment thrust on me all at once. No’ that I was feeln’ sorry for myself. After all, I was no’ the one makin’ an adjustment to bein’ pregnant.

The next mornin’ I tried again to enter the apartment next door only to find she’d changed the code. I banged on the door until my hand hurt and then started callin’, but she would no’ pick up her phone.

I went down to the Courtpark to see if she was out with Blackie.

Blackie was out, but no’ with his mistress.

“Where is she?” I said to Glendennon Catch as he threw an orange Frisbee.

“She’s not feeling well. Asked me to take him for the day.”

“Oh,” I said. “’Twas nice of ye.”

Walkin’ back toward the solarium, I pulled out my phone and called Kay.

“I need you,” I said.

“Where are you?”

“Solarium.”

“Okay. Ten minutes.”

“You want something?”

“Breakfast burrito and a spiced pumpkin latte.”

That almost made me sick to my stomach, but I said okay and went to the bistro to place an order.

I was sittin’ at a table in the far corner watchin’ Glen play with Elora’s dog when Kay pulled out the chair across from me. I shoved his mess of food and drink in front of him and told him what had happened.

“She’ll listen to you. She always has. Even when nobody else has sway. ‘Tis like she thinks you’re some wise old sage or some such.”

Kay laughed. “Maybe she’s the discerning one. After all, who’d you call when your baby mama won’t talk to you? Kay. That’s who.”

I nodded. How could he be in such a good mood when I was so miserable? “Just tell me what to do.”

He took a big bite of burrito and chewed thoughtfully occasionally glancin’ at what was inside the tortilla wrapped concoction. I watched his mouth work and his occasional fastidious dabs with the napkin I’d thoughtfully included with the stash of disgustin’ food and drink. After a time I began to wonder if he’d forgotten why we were here.

“Kay. You with me?”

He raised his eyes. “I’m thinkin’ it over.”

I let my hands fall. “Aye. Well, we’re no’ gettin’ any younger and I have a little one growin’ in the belly of a mate who will no’ speak to me!”

“Yeah. It’s a problem.”

“You think?”

I let out an annoyed chuff. “Look. Could you just go tell her that I swear I will never again doubt anything she says no matter how unlikely or improbable it might seem to the casual observer. If she says the Earth will reverse the direction in which it rotates on Tuesday, I will ask, ‘What should we do to prepare?’ I am wholly, truly, desperately sorry for bein’ an arse.”

“You know Rammel, getting to hear you say that has almost made putting up with you worthwhile.”

“Kay.” I was losin’ patience.

He held up his hand. “Yes. I will go talk to her, but you have to swear to me right here, right now, that if I convince her to talk to you, you will, as you said, not doubt her again.”

“I swear. Great Paddy. I swear it on my life and the life of our son. Or daughter.” ‘Twas the first time it had occurred to me that we might have made a lass and I experienced a momentary panic, wonderin’ if I was clever enough to father a female.

“That’s a pretty serious oath.”

“’Tis. And I mean every word.”

“Alright. You may find this hard to believe, but I’ve been in the doghouse with Katrina a time or two and I know that nothing is right with reality until the crack gets fixed. I’ll head up there. Just in case she decides to hear you out, I’d suggest you lay off the whiskey.”

“’Tis nine o’clock in the mornin’. What do you take me for?”

“A lunatic elf who could become a drunk elf without much provocation.”

What could I say to that? He had a point.

“Coffee only.” I took my phone out and put it on the table in front of me.

“If you get a call from me, you better know what you’re going to say and it better be good.”

I nodded, but the speech that sounded so good last night felt like it had gone sour since mornin’. I had no idea how to mend such a monumental fuck up.

Two hours later I saw a flash of light. I looked down hopin’ to see Kay’s number, but ‘twas Elora.

“Elora…” I began.

“Come up,” she said and ended the call.

I shoved people out of the elevator. “This one’s taken,” I said. I could apologize later. When I got to our floor, I practically ran down the hall. It felt like it’d been weeks since I’d last seen her, months since I’d last touched her.

I knocked on the door and it opened within seconds. Elora grabbed my collar and pulled me in.

“Rammel,” she sniffed tearfully. “I’m pregnant.”

“I know, love. We did no’ plan it, but I’m so very glad of it.”

“You are?” She wanted confirmation that we were in it together and I wanted nothin’ more than to reassure her of exactly that.

“I’ve never been so happy about anything in my life. Well, except for findin’ you at the cottage, ready and willin’ to claim me as your mate.”

She put her arms around me and squeezed, no’ too tight. Just right. I must tell you that nothin’ had ever felt so good. Relief flooded me like a sedative.

“You promise you’ll never call me a liar again.”

“I, uh, did no’ exactly call you a liar…”

“Ram!”

“Aye,” I said quickly. “I promise. Elf’s honor.”

“Okay. Get me some jamocha almond fudge ice cream.”

I grinned. “Only if you give me the new code to our apartment.”

“Elftale.”

I wanted to run her errand and get her way-too-chocolate concoction, but once I started kissin’ her, I could no’ stop.

“Can the sweet treat wait?”

She smiled, pullin’ me toward the bedroom. “Can you deliver in twenty minutes or less?”

I barked out a laugh. “Aye, if that’s the order you’re placin’.”

“I’d like an option on more,” she said, reachin’ for my waistband.

“Goes without sayin’.” I pulled her hand away from my crotch so she’d know I was serious, and halted our progress toward the bedroom. With my arms ‘round her, I said, “We could stop off at Derry on the way to fairyland and let my mum throw us a right proper Irish weddin’.”

Elora went still and blinked slowly. When she focused on my eyes, her beauty took my breath away. I suspected it always would.

“That’s very practical.”

My face fell. “I did no’ mean it to sound like a chore.”

She smiled. “I’m just kidding. It’s a wonderful idea. What are you going to tell your family about me?”

Cripes. How was I goin’ to explain marryin’ someone appearin’ to be human and carryin’ my elfling?

As I mulled that over, Elora’s hand found her way to the buttons on my jeans again. At the time I assumed that would always make me smile. I have no’ been right about everything, but I was right about that.

“We’ll figure it out later,” I said.

Journey Man

Knights of Black Swan 9

by Victoria Danann

Copyright 2016 Victoria Danann

Published by 7th House Publishing, Imprint of Andromeda LLC

JOURNEY MAN

For five years, Glendennon Catch had knocked around the globe as a floater, filling in wherever a team of vampire hunters was down a member. He’d buried six good knights and watched the life take its toll on countless others. He’d drunk his share of whiskey and bedded so many women he would hate to hear the count, but he’d never gotten over his first love. And, if he had a chance for a do-over, he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t have chosen Rosie Storm over The Order.

Elora Rose Storm had spent five years nursing a heavy heart, while on a cross-dimensional mission to make the world a better place, especially wherever she found human/animal hybrids being mistreated. She’d seen horrors, righted wrongs where she could, and matured into a powerful witch/demon with altruistic leanings.

After all that time, unbeknownst to each other, both were headed home. To Jefferson Unit.

CHAPTER ONE

Kristoph Falcon was one of only a handful of trainees who had ever been assigned to a Jefferson Unit team right after graduation. Not only that, but his entire team had been in his graduating class. Normally trainees would spend years with seasoned knights before being given the responsibility of team patrol, but three of the four members of K Team, so dubbed by Rammel Hawking because they were ‘kids’, had participated in a legendary run down of two vampire in Manhattan while they were still trainees and unarmed.

If that wasn’t remarkable enough, two of them, Falcon and Wakenmann, had been decorated for heroics when J.U. had been attacked by aliens, also when they were still trainees. The two of them were the only prospective knights in the long and illustrious history of the centuries-old Order of the Black Swan to earn medals.

K Team consisted of Falcon’s partner, Rolfe Wakenmann, aka Wakey, Sinclair Harvest, aka Sin, and Kellan Chorzak, aka Spaz, though in present day he wasn’t likely to be called that by anyone other than his teammates. As it turned out, the awkwardness that had earned him the nickname of ‘Spaz’ as a young teen was a harbinger of masculine blossoming into a six-foot-four frame that was big-boned enough to support a truly impressive musculature.

The four of them had grown up together and knew each other well enough to think they might achieve the elusive ‘team telepathy’ that had been reported by a few quartets over the centuries.

In less than a year, Kris Falcon would be able to claim that he’d lived half his life on the J.U. premises. He had a routine. Rise. Shower. Dress. Have breakfast. Double check the duty roster. And the best part of his day, stop by the Operations Office to say hello to Mademoiselle Genevieve Bonheur.

Mme. Bonheur had recently become Chief Operations Officer after functioning as assistant to Farnsworth for six years. Farnsworth had retired to pursue some personal interests that included cooking, painting, collecting sea shells, and spending time with her daughter when possible.

On Wednesday of every week, Falcon arrived with fresh flowers for the Operations Office. Flowers would normally be delivered to the O.O. So he made a point of being at the entrance to intercept the delivery truck just so he could carry the bouquet personally, saving and savoring Genevieve’s smile for himself.

With widespread floral mutation, it wasn’t that easy to get flowers with a lovely fragrance anymore, but he shopped florists until he found one that grasped the concept of money being the least important factor along with the stipulation that they would only present a bouquet with an intoxicating perfume. Falcon believed no price was too high to experience seeing Genevieve bury her face in a bouquet, close her eyes with pleasure, and make sounds of delight.

He had the maintenance crew come in after O.O. hours on Tuesday nights and remove the past week’s flowers so that the office would be ready for a new splash of color and scent the next day.

After repeating this process for so long, Falcon had developed a discriminating eye when it came to floral arrangement. If the other knights knew that, he’d never hear the end of it. So he took care to keep his interest in horticulture private. Oh they knew that he bought flowers every week. They just didn’t know how much care he put into the details.

He’d developed personal preferences for particular flowers, along with how he liked them paired with varieties of greenery and how he liked them arranged. More importantly, he’d learned what Genevieve liked. She smiled graciously even when she didn’t particularly care for something and would thank him effusively no matter what, but over the years he’d learned to read the nuances well enough to know exactly what would cause her spirit to do a high handstand.

On that particular Wednesday he’d given the driver an extra big tip when he picked up the armload of flowers set in a large square clear-glass vase. Falcon knew it was just the thing to elicit a big reaction. He walked a little faster than usual, anticipating the way she’d stand up, walk toward him with her high-beam smile, reach for the flowers, bury her face in the petals, take in a big breath, make sexy-sounding noises of delight, and turn her mesmerizing caramel-colored eyes his way. First she’d say, “Thank you, Sir Falcon. They’re lovely.” Then she would turn her head toward her desk and say, “I think I’ll put them here. What do you think?”

He would return her smile and say, “Whatever you want.” Then he would add, “I have tomorrow night off. Would you like to have dinner with me?”

He knew the chances were slim that she would say yes. She would almost certainly say, “I like you very much, Kristoph, but I’m too old for you and I’m not looking for a lover. There are so many beautiful girls who would love your attention. You should ask one of them.”

He would say, “It may be true that others would say yes, but it’s you I’m asking. And I don’t agree with your conclusion that you’re too old for me. Remember this. When you’re ready for a lover, you’ll want one with youthful vigor in the prime of his ability to give.”

He would grin.

She would laugh, shake her head, set the flowers on her desk and fluff the arrangement which, in his mind, could never compete with the life and beauty she emanated like a halo shining all around her.

That exchange had taken place two hundred and sixty-three times. Yes. He’d gone to the trouble of counting. Black Swan had taught him many things about aspiring to being a person of worth and one of those was that a person of character does not give up. He’d engaged in that dialogue with Genevieve so many times that the lines were rote, like actors who had done a very long-running play on Broadway. He didn’t bother to ask himself why he continued to try. He knew why. Because a chance at something, anything, with Genevieve Bonheur was worth that much effort. And that much patience.

Sir Sainregis called out as Falcon passed his way to the O.O. “Still at it, Falcon? You need to get a new hobby. That woman is your lost cause.”

He looked around to see who was within earshot. When he confirmed that the Sovereign and instructors were nowhere near, he said, “Fuck off,” and continued without breaking his stride. He didn’t care if people thought he was a love-sick fool. Maybe it was true, but if it was, it was his business and nobody else’s.

By the time he turned the corner into the Operations Office that Wednesday, he couldn’t suppress his smile a moment longer. It only took a second to scan the room. She wasn’t there. He glanced at the wall clock. She was always in the office at that time of day. The only person present was the trainee who’d been assigned runner duty that morning.

“Where’s Mademoiselle Bonheur?”

“I don’t know, sir. No one has been here this morning but me.”

Falcon set the flowers down on the counter that separated the administrative area from personnel. “Have you notified the Sovereign’s office?”

“No, sir.”

“Why not?”

“I… uh, didn’t think of it.” Falcon stared at the kid long enough to make him nervous. The trainee looked at the phone on the desk that used to belong to Farnsworth and reached for it. “I’ll call them now.”

“No,” said Falcon. “I’ll tell them myself.”

“Okay.” Falcon looked at the boy sharply. Discipline wasn’t just something to do. It was crucial to grooming prospective knights who wouldn’t someday turn and flee at the first sign of fangs. “I mean, yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

Falcon’s mind was a jumble that matched the uneasy feeling developing in the pit of his stomach. Like most people who worked for Black Swan, Genevieve took her job seriously. The Order didn’t tolerate personnel who didn’t understand the importance of the work and give it a priority. If she wasn’t at work, which had never happened before, and hadn’t made arrangements to cover her position, the logical conclusion was that there was something to be concerned about.

The Sovereign’s office perpetually maintained a staff of two twelfth-year students who served as admins for the office. One in the morning. One in the afternoon. It was a sought-after prestigious post for a trainee, even though working for Rev would never be described as ‘fun’. It was a resumé plum similar to a law student clerking for a policy-making judge.

Jamie Kirkpatrick was the trainee on duty. So far as anyone knew, he was the first elf to ever hold the position. Elves were not usually inclined to serve or accept attitude without giving it back. You might say they were usually unsuitable, personality-wise. Jamie looked up and acknowledged Falcon when he came in. “Sir Falcon.”

“Are you aware that the Operations Manager didn’t show up this morning?”

The elf scowled. “No one told me. Let me check with the Sovereign.” Rather than using the interoffice comm, he rose, walked over and knocked on the boss man’s door.

“What!” Rev practically shouted.

Jamie was unfazed. “Mademoiselle Bonheur didn’t come in today. Did you know she’d be otherwise occupied? Sir?”

Rev saw that Falcon was standing behind his admin, looking like he was also waiting for an answer to that question. Rev shook his head. “News to me,” Rev said to Jamie before shifting his eyes and shouting, “Falcon!”

Kirkpatrick stepped aside to let Falcon take his place in the doorway. “Yes, sir.”

“Did you bring this news to our attention?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I see.”

“I, ah, don’t have her phone number, but it’s very unlike her to no show. Maybe you could give her a call?”

Rev matched the intensity of Falcon’s gaze as he said, “Mr. Kirkpatrick! Call the lady and find out what’s going on.”

Falcon heard a, “Yes, sir,” behind him.

“I’m sure there’s no worry,” Rev said. “It’s probably Bastille Day or some such and she forgot to call.”

“Not to disagree, sir, but the reason why she’s head of Operations is because she doesn’t let details slip through cracks. Or take holidays that aren’t cleared. Ever. Sir.”

Rev knew that was true, of course.

Falcon turned toward the admin desk when he heard Kirkpatrick speaking, but quickly realized he was just leaving a voicemail asking her to call the office as soon as she received the message.

Kirkpatrick returned to Rev’s doorway. “No answer, sir. I left a request for a phone call as soon as possible.”

Rev nodded at the kid and said to Falcon, “Come in and close the door.” Falcon did as he was told and came to stand in front of the Sovereign’s desk. “So you’re close to Bonheur?”

Falcon debated how to answer, finally deciding that, where the Sovereign was concerned, honesty was the best bet. “Not as close as I’d like to be, sir. But I know her. Fairly well.”

Rev nodded. “I agree that she wouldn’t alarm us without good reason.”

He was already up and moving when Falcon said, “Maybe we could check her quarters? Make sure she’s not sick?”

“Exactly what I was thinking.” Rev passed Falcon as he exited his office. “Kirkpatrick. What is Ms. Bonheur’s apartment number?”

Kirkpatrick’s fingers clicked on the keyboard. “241.”

As soon as Kirkpatrick had spoken the number, Rev was moving toward the elevator.

“Permission to accompany you, sir?” Falcon asked, keeping pace with Rev.

“Given.”

The security box on the wall next to Genevieve’s door read Rev’s face. When combined with the push of a black button that served as a master key to everything that could be locked in Jefferson Unit, the apartment door clicked open.

He pushed through, but didn’t enter without announcing himself. “Ms. Bonheur? Reverence Farthing here to see you along with Sir Falcon. Are you here?” There was no response. “Do not be alarmed. We’re coming in to check on you.”

The two men entered Genevieve’s apartment. Falcon’s breath hitched when he saw it. The furniture was covered in prints of floral crewel on a white wool/cotton blend. The balcony shutters had been left open and sunlight was streaming in. A crystal pedestal bowl with fresh fruit sat on the kitchen bar. The effect was feminine, pristine, upscale, and, to Falcon, a little magical. As he would have expected, knowing Genevieve, everything was in its place as if she’d been expecting a photographer from “Architectural Digest”.

He passed through the living room to the bedroom. It was the same as the outer room in both style and occupancy status. Beautiful and empty. The bed was made. He rushed toward the bathroom. Again, everything in its place. Fluffy towels folded neatly as if awaiting an honored guest. He opened the drawers close to the sink.

He opened the door to her walk-in closet and found that it had been redesigned to be both attractive and functional. It even had a rod with a shorter hanging space for shirts and blouses over a seat with drawers where she could sit to pull off boots or pull on leggings.

The important thing was that everything was there, including her luggage which fit just above the closed cabinetry.

Falcon could feel it when Rev came to the closet door.

“She’s not here,” Falcon said without turning around. “And she didn’t plan to be away.”

“You’re sure?”

“There’s fresh fruit in the kitchen. Her luggage is here. So’s her makeup. And you know how women feel about that.”

“Indeed I do. You seem kind of young to know that much about women.” Rev took in a deep sigh. “You know her social circle?” When Falcon didn’t answer, Rev said, “I’ll call my wife. Find out who her close friends are. Somebody will know something. Until we find out, don’t be jumping to unwarranted conclusions.”

Falcon thought that was easy for the Sovereign to say. He nodded, but felt like the lead weight in the pit of his stomach was getting heavier by the hour.

“You need to get your mind on duty because you’re up tonight,” Rev continued. “Let patrol take your mind off this. I’m sure there’s a plausible explanation.”

“Will you have someone call me if one of her friends knows something?”

Rev’s expression softened. “Count on it.”

For five days thereafter Falcon continued to stop by the Operations Office just to stare at her empty desk. On the sixth day, he was surprised to see Farnsworth at her old station.

He looked from Genevieve’s empty desk to Farnsworth and said, ““What is it?”

“I’m just filling in. That’s all.”

“What do you know?” She jumped a little when his frustration exploded into a shout. “TELL ME!”

“Watch your tone, Falcon.”

He narrowed his eyes. “That’s Sir Falcon.”

“Don’t you try and pull rank on me. I remember when you were being taken to see the Sovereign for classroom pranks!” On processing the worry on Falcon’s face, Farnsworth backed down a little. “We don’t know where she is. She had a day off. Somebody said they thought she’d gone shopping in the city. That’s all we know. I’m just filling in until she’s back.”

Falcon turned to go, but Farnsworth stopped him at the door.

“Falcon. I will call you if I hear anything.”

He nodded solemnly and tapped the door jamb twice before leaving.

CHAPTER TWO

When Glen’s foot touched the tarmac as he deboarded the jet at Fort Dixon, he felt the idea of ‘home’ settle around him. Unfortunately it felt more like a shroud than a favorite fleece blanket. The last time he’d been there his heart had still been intact. He was thinking… correction, hoping, that Rosie would soften the consequences of her ultimatum and decide that what they had was worth a compromise here or there. When he’d been given his first assignment, he’d been sure that he’d be getting leave and seeing her in the near future. But after a year’s worth of phone calls to her parents, who hadn’t heard from her and didn’t know where she was, his hopefulness and outlook for the future had begun to fade.

The second year, hopefulness had turned into emptiness.

The third year it became hopelessness.

The fourth year it became bitterness. And that was the filter through which he viewed his ‘homecoming’ to Jefferson Unit.

Not much had changed. It was familiar right down to the look of the serviceman waiting by a jeep to take him to J.U.

“Take your bag, sir?”

He looked at the driver and thought it was a little silly to wear camouflage on an air base in New Jersey, but he knew the soldier didn’t have a choice about what he wore. He was probably close to Glen’s age, but that was just on the outside and looks can be deceiving. Glen was pretty sure he was at least fifty years older on the inside.

“Sure.” He handed his duffel over and pulled himself into the Jeep.

“Been having nice weather.”

Glen just grunted and turned his head away in the universal gesture of I-don’t-want-to-talk.

The driver took the hint and said nothing else until they stopped in front of Jefferson Unit. Glen sat in the Jeep staring at the front door for a few seconds, not really motivated to get out and open a new chapter to what had become a lousy excuse for a life. He tried to remember the guy who had once functioned as temporary Sovereign. At twenty years old. Glen supposed that remnants of that kid must still reside somewhere inside, under countless layers of things he wished he’d never seen. But he hadn’t been in touch with that person for what felt like an eternity.

There was a time when he would have chatted up the driver and had the guy inviting him out for a beer by the end of the five minute ride. He’d been easy to get along with, had a tendency to bring out the best in people, wasn’t big on judging, and liked things pacific. You might think that was a gift, and in some cases it might be. In Glen’s case, however, it had been a curse. Because his affability was the very reason why he’d been tagged to be a ‘floater’, one of just six such knights in the whole of The Order of the Black Swan.

If Glen had been asked to write a job description for ‘floaters’, he might have said they were accursed souls, doomed to wander the earth without roots, home, or lasting connections. Unfortunately, no one with the authority to make changes had ever, in the near five-hundred-year history of Black Swan, asked a floater how he felt about the assignment.

With a sigh he pulled himself out of the Jeep and took his duffel, which held everything he owned. He had no place that he could call his residence, no car, no furniture, no pets… What he did have was a lot of money in the Black Swan ‘bank’. Since he’d spent practically none of what he’d earned for five years, he’d be considered a wealthy guy by most.

“Thanks,” he said to the driver without looking at him.

“Sure thing, sir.”

Glen walked purposefully toward J.U.’s state-of-the-tech security entrance wondering if he’d see people he’d known from before. He wondered how he’d appear to them and what they would think when they realized he wasn’t the same person they’d known. Storm had called a few times. Glen had let it go to voicemail. Each message was the same; a recorded inquiry about how he was and an invitation to visit them on leave. He’d never returned any of the calls. Same thing with Elora.

He punched in a series of codes, talked to the tech officer on duty, gained entrance to the security lobby, then stepped through the inner door which put him on the outer ring of the Hub. It was early afternoon, one of the busiest times of the day at Jefferson Unit. The knights had awakened and come down for breakfast at one or two. The students were transitioning from academics to physical training.

Glen stood where he was and surveyed the hustle and bustle, the bright clean atmosphere, the energy that, oddly enough, might be called happy. Jefferson Unit was like a crown jewel of facilities and he should know. He’d certainly seen enough of them. He watched with as much anonymity as if he was in Grand Central Station. No one noticed him standing there. If they did, they left him alone.

After a couple of minutes of observing how Black Swan’s elite lived, he walked toward the elevators and waited for a car that would carry him down to the Sovereign’s office. A lot of his former faith in himself had been forcibly overhauled over the past five years, but one thing remained the same and that was that he knew the way to the Sovereign’s office. Definitely. As he waited the fingers of his free hand juddered against his jeans-clad thigh. Sometime during the past few years, he’d begun to find it difficult to simply be still.

Rev’s door was open when Glen entered the outer office. The Sovereign caught movement out of the corner of his eye and looked up. He recognized Glen’s height, body shape, features, and hair color. In less than a second his brain had identified the visitor as a grown-up Glendennon Catch. Before he knew what he was doing he was out of his chair, advancing to greet Glen warmly like a returning hero. His smile had begun to form before he’d fully processed that the man standing in the office resembled Glen in many ways, but was missing the spark that had defined the kid Rev had known years before.

Rev was not given to overly demonstrative expressions of emotional connection. He was the sort of guy who could fight his way out of hel, but struggled with giving praise when it was due. Still, when Rev took in the look of the kid, it stopped him in his tracks.

He worked to keep the smile in place while he stuck out his hand. “Welcome home, Catch.”

Glen tried a reciprocal smile, but it didn’t make it to his eyes. “Home. Yeah,” he said with a hollowness that bothered Rev to his core.

“I hope you’re ready to go to work because we could use your help tonight.”

“Tonight. Sure.”

“I’d planned to give you a couple of days to settle in, but something came up. We’ve got a flu making the rounds. Fennimore is filling in for Elora on B Team because she’s ridiculously pregnant with twins.”

“Twins,” he repeated.

“Yeah. Then Fennimore came down with the flu. We quarantined him in the infirmary, of course, but once something like that gets a foothold, it’s hard to control. I said I’d slide into Fennimore’s spot until he’s on his feet because, well, we need boots on the street more than ever. Just found out an hour ago that Harvest is down for the count also.”

Illness was taken seriously at Jefferson Unit. Their job was too critical to allow sickness to spread around the premises. After all, who would hunt for vampire and try to keep the city semi-safe if all the slayers were in bed with tissues and a fever? The infirmary staff would make Sin as comfortable as possible while wearing masks and gloves and keeping him isolated.

“Harvest?”

“Hmm? Oh. I guess he hadn’t been here long before you left. Sinclair Harvest. Assigned to K Team.”

“I didn’t know there was a K Team.”

“Oh. Yeah. Well. You know Hawking and how he likes to name things. It’s the youngest team in the history of Black Swan. So Hawking dubbed them K Team for ‘kids’. Before I could dial that back and rescue their dignity, it had stuck like glue. As it turned out, the members of K Team weren’t prickly about it. I guess they’re kind of proud about being the youngest knights to ever patrol without the supervision of more seasoned veterans. Still, I suspect there’ll come a time when they won’t want to be known as ‘kids’.”

“So this Harvest fella has the flu?”

“He does. Which means that, if you didn’t take his place, we’d be down a team tonight.”

“I slept some on the plane. I can do it.”

“Good man.”

“Anybody on the team I know?”

Rev smiled. “You know all of them. Falcon. Wakenmann. Chorzak.” Glen managed a ghost of a smile and nodded. “Report here. Nine o’clock.”

“Yes, sir. Where would you like me to bed down?”

“Oh, sorry. Got it right here.” Rev took a card from on top of his desk. “343.” Glen took the card and turned to go, but Rev’s voice stopped him. “Good to have you back.”

Glen didn’t fully turn around. “Thank you, sir.”

Rev sat down in his chair and somehow felt heavier than before.

What Glen didn’t know was that he’d been sent to Jefferson Unit for psychiatric evaluation. His last two Sovereigns had noted growing evidence of depression in his file. Rev hadn’t planned to put him to work at all, but the need had arisen and he decided to take a chance that Glen could manage two or three nights of patrol.

That and it was a good way to not alert him that he’d been brought back for observation. Glen thought it was just another random transfer and that sooner or later it was bound to happen.

After seeing him in person, Rev had to agree that the man he’d just seen was not the same Glendennon Catch he’d known before. And the new Glen was not an improvement.

CHAPTER THREE

Monq was running low on vampire specimens. He liked to keep three or four on tap for experimental purposes. He wasn’t cruel about it, always kept it in mind that they had once been human and had no choice about being infected. He kept them for a month and dispatched them in the most humane way possible. Subsequently the cells where they’d been held were disinfected by specialists in biohazard gear to be sure all traces of the virus were gone.

Whenever he was in need of restocking, he sent a memo to the Sovereign who, in turn, would notify the knights in rotation to capture rather than kill, when possible. Armed with tranq guns, knights would sedate, secure the vampire’s fangs with duct tape, secure his hands behind him with a zip strip, then call for pickup and wait for the van.

Monq was poised to begin a new series of experiments based on a theory that had come to him while having tea one afternoon. All his best ideas came to him over a cup of Earl Grey while staring into his faux fireplace, which consisted of an elaborately carved mantel, salvaged from one of the homes of the robber barons from the early twentieth century, a marble surround, and a video fire where actual fire would normally be. People thought it was quirky, but that was the least of his concerns. If he couldn’t have a wood fire, or even a gas fire, in Jefferson Unit, he’d make do with a virtual representation.

His latest idea had to do with the ‘real’ vampire who had made themselves known a few years earlier. Since the real vampire had unintentionally played a part in Loti Dimension’s predicament, Monq had played the guilt card effectively and enlisted their help in combatting the constant threat to humanity or, in this case, helping to find a permanent cure.

Jean Etienne had agreed to donate some of his blood to see what would happen if small amounts were given to carriers of the vampire virus. He’d agreed to come on call when Monq was ready to begin. Given that they were embarking on new trials, Monq hoped the knights could procure more than the usual number of vampire for his experiments.

CHAPTER FOUR

A quarter hour before he was due to go on patrol, Falcon got a text to head to the Sovereign’s office. Wakey and Spaz were already waiting in the outer office when he arrived.

“What’s up?” he asked the two of them, lifting his chin as he approached.

“Not sure,” said Wakenmann, “but I think Sin is sick. Last night he said he was feeling hot and barfy.”

Rev’s door opened and he motioned for them to come into his office. “Evening, gentlemen.”

“Evening, sir,” replied Kellan Chorzak, aka Spaz.

Rev walked around his desk and sat in his big rolling chair. “No point in sitting down. You won’t be here that long. Your fourth has the flu. He’s in quarantine.”

“We going out as three, then?” Chorzak asked. Sinclair Harvest was his partner.

Rev gave him a visual ‘duh’. “Of course not. You’re getting a floater. Somebody you know. Glendennon Catch.”

That news temporarily pierced through Falcon’s worry and he joined the other two in grinning at that, just as Glen walked in.

Being nearest the door, Falcon was first to give a welcome. He stuck out his hand. “Good to see you, man.” His smile faltered as he took Glen in. “You look a little road weary.”

“Yeah.” Glen almost smiled in return. “You could say that.”

“So here you are back where you started,” Wakey said, shaking Glen’s hand.

“Yeah,” Glen repeated.

Falcon and Wakey shared a glance.

“You’re partnered up with Chorzak,” Rev told Glen as he turned his attention to his computer screen.

Chorzak nodded at Glen.

“Looks like you got the big dog seat at dinner,” Glen said. Chorzak was chuckling and shaking Glen’s hand when Rev said, “Leave the door open on your way out.”

As they climbed on board the whister, Glen was thinking that joining a team made up of people he knew was a first for him. That realization had him almost wishing he could summon enough feeling to have an opinion about it.

Glen had been partnered with every kind of personality imaginable. He’d patrolled with guys who might as well have been mute and he’d patrolled with guys who loved the sound of their own voices. Chorzak was definitely on the talkative end, which wasn’t the least surprising. He’d never had any trouble expressing himself.

That was okay with Glen. Given the two choices, he’d pick a talker every time. It helped pass the hours and didn’t put any burden on him to talk.

By midnight supper he felt like he was caught up on everything and everyone associated with Jefferson Unit. All except for the one person he was curious about. He didn’t want to be curious about what had become of Rosie. In fact, he gave himself a mental slap every time his mind tried to wander there. So far as he was concerned, the bitch could roast in hel.

K Team stopped for midnight supper at Five Guys Burgers on 8th and 42nd. It was no accident that they were in that location. The Port Authority Bus Terminal B stayed open twenty-four hours. To vampire that equaled all night diner.

Unlike New York pedestrians, Black Swan knights always took the long route. They broke into partnered pairs and covered a section of a district, walking the same direction, but a block apart. Whenever they came to an alley, they would turn into it and walk its length, meeting then passing in the middle. That way they kept the team close together while thoroughly, methodically covering that night’s duty assignment.

Falcon and Wakey stood at the head of an alley on 42nd waiting for Glen and Spaz to walk around to 41st.

As Glen and Spaz approached the 41st street alley where Falcon and Wakey were waiting at the other end, they ran into B Team, at least part of B Team. The Sovereign was filling in for Fennimore who’d been filling in for the Lady Laiken.

When Rev had shown up at the whisterport on the roof and climbed on board, Storm, Kay, and Ram stared at him like he’d lost his mind.

Rev had slapped the back of the pilot’s seat and said, “Let’s go.” To the three quarters of B Team present, he’d simply said, “Fennimore’s got the flu.”

“You think you remember how it’s done? Sir?” Ram had asked, smirking.

“Muscle memory, Hawking. And wipe that smirk off your face. I’m your partner for the night.”

“This should be fun.” Ram’s sarcasm could be heard even in his whisper.

“You got the memo,” Rev had said to the three of them. “Monq wants specimens. So capture over kill if you can.”

Storm and Kay glanced at each other and then seemed to find the nightscape especially interesting. Saying ‘capture over kill’ sounded easy, but adding anything to an already improbable task of ridding the world of vampire without being bitten, scratched, or scraped? Not their favorite thing. And it wasn’t like they were in their early twenties with nothing to worry about but their own hides. They both had wives who’d have a hard time getting past the loss of husbands.

It took Storm a minute to realize it was Glen standing in front of him. First, it was night time. Second, he would have expected that, after all the years of unanswered voicemails, if Glen was coming to Jefferson Unit, he’d do Storm the courtesy of mentioning it. All the feelings swirling around that history made for an awkward reunion, if it could be called that. Glen offered his hand to Storm, but didn’t hold eye contact for longer than a millisecond. He couldn’t. Too much about Storm reminded him of Rosie.

Seemingly oblivious to Glen’s standoffish behavior, Ram behaved like it was old home week.

“Good to have you back, wereboy. Elora will be ecstatic. Well, no’ ecstatic like when I’m givin’ her what she wants most, but you know what I mean. Did you hear we have twins on the way?” Glen nodded. “Aye.” Ram laughed. “Hawking sperm was too much for one egg to handle without clonin’ itself.”

“That’s not exactly how twins are made,” Glen began before he realized he didn’t want to have that conversation. Correcting such a gross error was just reflex.

Ram put his hand on Glen’s shoulder and gave him an affectionate shake. His laughter was so infectious, it even coaxed a grudging smile out of Glen. “So you’re finally where you belong. On the Kids Team.”

Glen looked up at Chorzak who was tall enough to look eye to eye with Kay. “Looks like the safest place to be.”

Storm looked over at Spaz. “Seen anything interesting tonight?”

“Other than the steam coming off my pastrami?” Chorzak shook his head. “Nah. It’s quiet. We better get back on beat. Don’t want to worry Kris an…”

Rammel slammed his palm into Chorzak’s chest with enough force to stop speech mid word then turned his ear toward the alley that Glen and Chorzak were supposed to be covering. All six men went stone still. Ram had an Order-wide reputation for kidding around, but not in the field. He’d seen too much to be less than deadly serious about patrolling.

“Shite,” he said. “Look alive.” Ram was moving toward the alley at a run, reaching into his jacket to pull his tranq gun with one hand and a stake with the other. Four of the other men were behind for a few seconds, then Rammel was looking at the back of a knight who was younger and faster. Glen had overtaken him and was sprinting toward the mouth of the alley.

When Falcon and Wakey calculated that they’d given the other half of their team enough time to reach the opposite end of the alley, they proceeded slowly, giving their eyes time to adjust to the dim light. They didn’t have a clear view to the other end because the back door lights were either out or missing, but they trusted that Spaz and Glen were close.

Falcon saw it first. He stopped Wakenmann silently by putting his arm out to block his partner’s forward progress.

According to standard procedure, Wakey automatically took one side of the alley, back angled toward the wall, keeping to the cover of shadows, while Falcon mirrored his movements on the other side. They crept forward in sync, each knowing exactly where the other was until they were within four yards of the dark figures they were stalking.

There appeared to be a victim on the ground with the hideous, but familiar pose of a vampire crouching over it. It wasn’t their first staking. They’d seen this before. Only something was off.

The victim was not a young woman, but a man. And the figure of the vampire feeding was small with decidedly female curves. Female vampire were so rare that many knights finished entire careers and retired without ever seeing one. Certainly Falcon and Wakey hadn’t expected to come across something so exotic.

Falcon looked across the alley at Wakey, but his face was in the shadows so Falcon couldn’t get a read on whether or not Wakenmann could confirm the sighting.

When Falcon turned his attention back to the vampire, something about the way it moved caused his breath to catch. With the vampire’s heightened sensory perception, just that tiny intake of air was enough to alert it to their presence. The vamp’s head jerked back and around so that her face was framed clearly in the blue back door light behind her. When she bared her bloody fangs and hissed at Falcon, his blood ran cold.

Even with caramel-colored eyes gone pale ice blue and blood smeared all around her mouth, there was no mistaking that she had been, until recently, the young woman named Genevieve Bonheur. Part of Falcon’s mind was correctly processing identification of the vampire, but another part was steadfastly refusing to accept that fate for her.

Seeing that the vampire was about to flee, Wakenmann raised the tranq gun he’d been issued for capture and leveled it at the vampire’s upper body.

Falcon was in such shock, he’d forgotten all about the capture order. All his mind was able to grasp in that moment was that there was a gun aimed at Genevieve. His Genevieve.

“Nooooooo!” Falcon shouted as he launched himself through the air at Wakey to misdirect the shot.

Wakenmann was so surprised and distracted that his attention was diverted from the vampire to his partner. He had only enough time to say, “What the…!” before Falcon plowed into him sending his body back into the brick wall behind him with bruising force.

“It’s Gen!”

Wakey had never heard Falcon sound either panicked or anguished, but he knew it when he heard it. His eyes jerked back toward the spot where she’d been a moment before. “You’re wrong. It’s not her. It can’t be her.”

“It was,” said Falcon.

Wakey’s jaw clenched as his face hardened. “I have to go get her, Kris.”

He looked into Wakey’s eyes for a minute, his knight’s oath replaying in his head on a loop. He nodded. “Capture. Don’t kill.”

Wakenmann lowered his chin and said firmly, “If possible.”

He didn’t wait for a response from Falcon. He took off toward the other end of the alley, but by that time, they heard voices calling their names.

When Glen reached the head of the alley and turned in, he had no less than three seconds to confirm that the figure running toward him, regardless of gender, was vampire. He raised his tranq gun and fired. The dart went straight into her heart, immediately releasing a sedative powerful enough to take her down in less than two full steps, especially since it had been calibrated for a much larger body than hers.

She stopped, looked at him with wide crazed eyes, then looked at the dart in her chest. She took hold of it to pull it free, but the chemicals were already running through her bloodstream.

The vampire crumpled into a heap that mimicked death. Everyone present recognized that she had been the J.U. Operations Manager.

“Great Paddy,” Ram said softly, almost reverently.

Storm looked up to see Falcon running toward them. When he realized that the kid wasn’t slowing down, Storm stepped in front of the vampire’s body.

“Get out of the way!” cried Falcon.

Storm deftly moved to the side, turned, stepped behind Falcon and gripped him in a wrestling hold so that he couldn’t move. “Hold on. We need to secure the nails and fangs.”

“Don’t talk about her like that!” Falcon raged, using all his youthful strength to try and get away from Storm’s hold on him.

“Okay,” Storm said. “I won’t talk about her that way. Just calm down while we make the situation secure.”

Storm looked at Wakenmann who seemed to be in almost as much agony as Falcon. Clearly he couldn’t stand witnessing the emotional dismantling of the guy who’d been his partner for much longer than he’d been officially called that.

Rev had stepped away a few paces and made two calls. First was to the clean up van to come pick up Monq’s research subject. Second was to his wife to tell her that the woman she’d worked next to every day for six years wouldn’t be coming back to work. Or even to humanity.

Ten minutes later the unmarked white van backed into the alley. The clean up crew had experience with safely securing transports bound for Monq’s labs. They’d done it many times. They had a specialized gurney with restraints strong enough to hold any vampire and additional sedative if there was a traffic jam in the tunnel. They’d figured out that it was safer to just secure the vampire in the van designed for that purpose where they’d be able to drive into sublevel access at J.U. rather than try to manage loading on and off a whister and two elevators.

After carefully duct taping her mouth closed and just as carefully covering her hands with big thick gloves, the crew hoisted her into the van and restrained her on a specially-made gurney that could be wheeled right into the cell that had been custom designed by Monq to hold a vampire.

When they started to close up, Falcon grabbed hold of the door nearest him. “I want to ride with her.”

The driver looked at Rev as if to ask what to do. Wakenmann stepped in front of Falcon, made sure that he was looking him in the eye and almost whispered, “Kris. That’s not her.”

Falcon searched Wakey’s eyes as he tried to make himself say, “I know”, but the words couldn’t get past the giant lump clogging his throat. All he could force past a clenched jaw and vocal cords thickened with pain was, “Going.”

Glen didn’t know anything about Falcon and his attachment to Genevieve Bonheur, but he’d had enough experience with love gone south to know that look. He felt sorry for the poor bastard, but that was as much empathy as he could afford to drain from the meager well of emotion left in his heart.

Rev started to say, “I don’t…” but he didn’t get any further into that sentence before Wakey yelled, “HE’S GOING! OKAY?!?”

Normally speaking to a Sovereign in an argumentative way, particularly with raised voice, would not be tolerated and especially not by that particular Sovereign. But in recent years Rev Farthing had come to know that there was an emotional side to life that was just as powerful as duty and honor. Married life had also given him some insight into the wisdom of picking your battles.

The Sovereign cleared his throat and decided dignity would be saved all around. “I was going to say that I don’t see any reason why not.”

Wakenmann’s shoulders relaxed and he had the good sense to look contrite. “Sorry, sir. Begging your pardon. I got carried away.”

Rev simply nodded and left it at that.

Seven knights watched the van pull away and stood silent for a minute after it had gone.

Rev was first to speak. “Catch. We’re a man down. I’m going to head back with Chorzak and Wakenmann. You take my place on B Team.”

Glen nodded. He was used to being odd man out in a game too much like musical chairs. He sighed as B Team watched the three men walk away. He was thinking that there had been a time when, if he’d been told he was going to get to patrol with the legendary B Team for a night, he’d have thought he’d won the Black Swan lottery. As a matter of fact, it was Engel Storm who had impressed Glen so much, as a teenager, that Glen had decided he would cast his lot for knighthood, even though, after his time in Edinburgh at headquarters, he could have had just about any job he’d wanted within the organization.

No doubt there’d been some hero worship on his part and a desire to emulate Sir Storm to the best of his ability. But a whole lot of sludge had flowed under the bridge since then. Some of it gory. Some of it nasty. But all of it had taken up residence in Glen’s heart and mind, and left him feeling always the outsider. Always alone.

After what seemed like a respectful amount of time, Storm ambled away. Kay went with him.

Ram’s sharp eyes took Glen in and seemed to appraise his mood. “Okay, partner. Looks like we’re on the other side of the street.” Glen made no response other than to fall in beside Ram. “Maybe we can salvage some of this misbegotten evenin’. Tell me where your travels have taken ye and what you’ve been up to.”

Ram didn’t miss the fact that Glen almost winced at that question. Apparently Glen would rather be boiled in oil than talk about how he’d spent the past five years.

“Believe me,” he said, “hearing about my life wouldn’t salvage your evening. I’ve got a much better idea. You tell me about you and Elora. Is Blackie still alive? Helm must be big.”

Ram angled his chin upward so that he was looking down his nose at Glen. He knew Glen was deflecting, but figured the kid had a right to his privacy.

“Oh, aye. Blackie would be growlin’ if he heard you suggest that he might be beyond his prime. Helm is a firecracker. Got it from his mother.” Glen had to snort at that. “What? I was no’ a difficult child.” Glen looked at him sideways. “Well, I may have been a bit of trouble, but do no’ be tellin’ Helm that.”

“Okay.”

“Good.”

“He’s going to find out about your childhood, you know.”

“Well, maybe that can be delayed until I can explain.”

“Right.”

CHAPTER FIVE

When Rosie had left the land of the Exiled, she simply wasn’t in a frame of mind to go home. She needed to find something to make her feel useful and she had. She’d located dozens of dimensions where humans had played around with genetic engineering and, in every case, they’d created a species superior to themselves while clinging to the notion of their own superiority. Almost all treated the hybrids badly, restricting their freedoms and viewing them as lower classes to be exploited.

At times it had required a lot of self-discipline to keep from using her special abilities to right wrongs, especially when the wrongs were directed against hybrids. But she’d made a promise to herself that she would not do anything an ordinary elemental, like her grandfather, could do. She handed out print collateral, organized meetings, and used every means of persuasion available to her to appeal to sympathy and sense of fair play.

She would organize a group, populate it with true believers, arm them with enough print collateral and righteous fire to last for half a century, then move on to the next such situation.

Occasionally she thought about visiting Newland to see what had become of the Exiled, but she couldn’t face the aftermath of what had happened there. So she kept moving and tried to keep her thoughts focused on the days ahead. Her grief had run its course from open wound to scabs, to scars, and finally to dull ache. She’d gone through the process alone without family or friends or home. Her purpose had kept her going and been everything to her. But her heart had finally spoken and told her that it was time to go home and reconnect with her parents and the friends who had been like family to her.

She went to the villa first, but found no one there. There were several alternate places where she could look, but she decided to begin with the most likely, Jefferson Unit.

She stepped out of the passes into the Hub and stood still so that she could simply drink in the familiar sights and sounds. In some ways J.U. was more home to her than the Sonoma villa. It was comforting. So much so that she closed her eyes and allowed herself a moment of internal peace.

She smiled, recalling her baby laughter as she danced across the polished tile floor. She remembered how the people at the Atrium Café had practically adopted her. That smile was replaced with a pang of regret when she remembered Glen leading her across the room by the hand, patiently explaining that he would get into a lot of trouble with her parents if she disappeared.

Getting Glen into trouble hadn’t been on her agenda. She remembered being small enough to straddle her mother’s hip and clapping her hands when Glen would arrive. All those memories and more came back in a rush as she stood watching people pass on their way to work or school or recreation.

She was standing off to the side near a cluster of people when she heard someone behind her say that the Operations Manager had been infected by the vampire virus and had been brought in that very night. Rosie was alarmed. She knew Farnsworth and hoped that wasn’t who they were talking about.

She was still lingering in the Hub near the elevator when it opened. Glen stepped off, but clearly didn’t recognize her. He looked right through her as if she wasn’t there and never broke stride on his way to the bar.

Her lungs had stopped working, more because of how awful he looked than anything else. Oh, he was still a heartbreaker, filled out with more muscle and an unmistakable confidence in the way he moved. That attractiveness wasn’t going to change at any age. What was different was that the life in his eyes that made him Glen was absent. The animation was gone. If she’d had to describe what she saw, she might have said that he looked like a bad copy of himself.

After a few seconds of staring after him, Rosie got on an elevator that would take her to the floor where her parents’ apartment had been the last time she’d been there. She was prepared for the possibility that they weren’t there. She’d be the first one in any crowd to acknowledge that things change.

CHAPTER SIX

Falcon sat on the cement floor outside the cell where the vampire who had once been Genevieve Bonheur was being held. She was far too new a vampire to be able to think, much less speak. She simply sat on the cot that was built into the wall and looked at Falcon like she was starving and he was food.

When word reached the Sovereign’s office that Falcon refused to move from that spot, Rev pulled K Team from that night’s rotation and called Monq.

“You need to get a handle on Falcon.”

“By that I assume you mean an evaluation on his state of mind.”

“Call it what you will. Just fix him. I need him on the street.”

“I’m not going to dignify that with a response. I have final say when it comes to readiness.”

“Whatever. You might as well do an evaluation on Glendennon Catch while you’re at it.”

“Oh? I didn’t know he was here. What’s the problem?”

“There’ve been rumors that he’s not fit to hunt. Psychologically speaking.”

“I see. Does he know that he’s to be evaluated?”

“He does not.”

“Alright.”

“Tonight.”

“What about tonight?”

“I need it done tonight.”

“You want rush service on a psych eval? That’s going some, even for you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means there’ve been rumors, for years, that you want things your way and the timing is always now.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

Monq sighed and tapped his retractable pencil on his desk. “Nothing. Your position probably stipulates that the successful candidate for Sovereign has similar personality traits.”

“Damn straight.”

“Although Catch was able to keep the ship running without so much bluster.”

“I do not bluster.”

“You never do anything else.”

“Do you want your funding recommendation renewed at the end of the fiscal year?”

Monq laughed. “My funding has nothing to do with you and we both know it, but never mind. Regarding Catch, it’s already six o’clock.”

“I’ll tell him you’re expecting him for dinner in your library. Seven okay?”

“Naturally. It’s not as if I have anything else to do.”

“Sarcasm doesn’t suit you. He likes lamb.”

After a noteworthy pause, Monq said, “You remember what he likes to eat? Hmmm.”

“Don’t start with that ‘hmmm’ business and don’t go reading anything into that. He did my job for a while and I got to know him. That’s all there is to it.”

“If you say so.”

“I do.”

“Okay.”

“Seven o’clock.”

“You want to give me some more detail about the nature of complaints regarding his performance?”

“Disengaged intellectually and emotionally. Possible depression.”

Monq sighed again. “That’s a shame. I’ll do what I can.”

“Can’t ask for more.”

Rev ended the call and yelled for his assistant. He had interoffice communications at his fingertips, but found that yelling was just as effective and a lot more satisfying. The admin appeared at his door almost instantly.

“Yes, sir?”

“Find Sir Catch and tell him I said he’s expected in Dr. Monq’s library for dinner at seven o’clock.”

“Yes, sir.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

Day One - Psych Eval

“Come in,” Monq replied to the knock on his door and glanced at his watch. Seven o’clock exactly. There was nothing like Black Swan training to instill punctuality.

With a slight hesitation Glen opened the door and walked in. Monq hadn’t seen him since he’d been back. The years had made him more handsome in some ways. He’d filled out and carried more muscle. His jawline and cheekbones were more prominent. Some would say chiseled. The boy that Monq had known was gone and in his place was a man with a hard edge and the world-weary expression of an old man whose life hadn’t gone well.

Glen confirmed that Monq’s office was unchanged since the last time he’d been there. Same warm sage green color scheme designed to relax people into telling all. Same combination of oddities on the walls and shelves. When he brought his gaze back to Monq, his posture and demeanor broadcasted suspicion. “What’s this about?”

Monq chuckled. “Right to the point. Sit down. Let’s eat and say hello. It’s been a long time.”

Glen eyed the chair with the same suspicion he’d aimed at Monq. After a brief internal struggle, it seemed he’d decided to be polite, up to a point. “Yeah. What’s this about?”

Glen turned at the sound of a knock on the door.

“Dinner,” a wait staffer announced as he wheeled the cart into the study. Looking at Monq, he said, “Would you like it set out on the table, sir?”

“Certainly,” Monq answered.

Glen stood watching while the server, whom he did not recognize, covered Monq’s cleared library table with a tablecloth, set out linen napkins, silverware, covered dishes, condiments, glasses of iced water, wine goblets, and a bottle of pinot noir.

“Shall I open the wine, sir?”

Monq nodded and said, “Yes,” while trying not to seem impatient.

“Would you like the door closed, sir?”

“Yes. Yes.” Monq waved.

When they were once again left alone in the room, Glen was still standing. Monq motioned toward the table. “Have dinner with me for old times’ sake. You can say as much or as little as you please.”

Glen raised an eyebrow, but relented and took a seat across from Monq next to his video fireplace. After all, he’d been ordered to report and didn’t really have a choice in the matter. He lifted the stainless steel cover off the plate in front of him. “Lamb,” he said. “That’s my favorite.”

“I know. That means you have friends here who care about you.” Monq pulled out the padded leather chair across from him and sat down.

Glen raised his eyes to meet Monq’s, but remained distrustful. Monq noticed that he swallowed before saying, “I did have friends here. Once.”

The way he said it made it sound like he no longer believed that to be true.

As a man, Monq wanted to ask why Glen thought those friendships had dissolved, but as a psychiatrist, he knew that wasn’t the way to proceed.

“Let’s just catch up. Tell me about yourself. What’s happened since I last saw you?”

Glen barked out a laugh that was startling. Even though the effect was to make Glen look more mean than jovial, there was a hint of the boy Monq had known. The part of his heritage that was a quarter werewolf was evident in the way his eyes flashed and the contrast of white teeth against tanned skin.

Glen looked into his goblet like it was a crystal ball before taking a drink of red wine. “Nothing worth mentioning.”

“Well, that can’t be true. I mean, wasn’t your first assignment to fill in as Z Team’s fourth and try to redeem them? There has to be several hours’ worth of stories there alone.”

Glen cut off a bite of lamb and began to chew. “It would bore you to tears.”

“I doubt that. I’m not easily bored.” When Glen added nothing more, Monq said, “That was rough business out there with K Team.”

Glen hesitated. “Yeah. It was. Poor son-of-a-bitch.”

“You mean Falcon?”

“Yes.” Glen looked over at Monq like he was dim. “I mean Falcon.”

“He must have cared a great deal for Mademoiselle Bonheur.”

Glen shrugged. “Apparently.”

“I heard the Storm girl is here. Weren’t you close with her years ago?”

Monq made a mental note of everything he saw. Glen tensed, stopped chewing and sat back, looking guarded. “I knew her.” He did his best to sound ambivalent.

“Hmmm. Well. Tell me about your time with Z Team.”

Glen raised an eyebrow while he took another drink of wine. He found that deflecting always worked. People would always rather talk about themselves. “You said you want to catch up. So you start. What have you been up to?” It would have been a better question if Glen had made it sound like there was any genuine interest supporting the query.

Monq noted the tactic and decided to play along. He couldn’t expect to get what he was unwilling to give.

“Well,” he began, “I know you can imagine my disappointment when the vampire virus surged back stronger than ever, because you’ve had to deal with the consequences in the field. Since then, I’ve been highly motivated to find something else that works. As you can imagine, I’m sure.

“Eventually we found a cure for cancer. So I’m operating on the theory that, if I just stay after it, I’m bound to come across something that works. Fortunately for me, and I mean that sincerely, I’m well-funded.

“Right now I’m embarking on a new set of trials that will introduce little bits of real vampire blood to our captives. My hope is that, in the right dosage, it might kill the virus. Or, if not that, stabilize the minds of the victims so that they can think like humans. If we could achieve that result, we could probably create a synthetic diet that would suffice. Of course they would have to be quarantined from the general population because they would still be a danger, but we might be able to curtail the continual spread of the disease.

“It’s too early to start talking about either result, but I’m hopeful.”

Glen gave every sign of paying attention, even appearing to care about what was being said. Moreover, he seemed to relax within minutes after the topic of discussion shifted away from him. Monq decided the matter was too deep seated to rush. So he would be content with gaining trust.

“The Frenchies going along with this?”

“Yes. Jean Etienne is on board.”

“If you give the vampire you’re holding immortal blood…” he paused and looked at the wine in his goblet, “you’re not afraid it might make them immortal? What if it made them immortal and that was the only change?”

“Out of the frying pan, into the fire?”

“We’d have virus vamps who couldn’t be killed.”

Monq sighed deeply. “I admit it’s a risk although we’re going to try to mitigate that possibility by beginning with amounts too tiny to have a lasting effect.”

“You can’t know that. Introducing immortal blood? You have no idea what the effect will be.”

“That’s the burden of risk, isn’t it? You think it’s worth the gamble? Or not?”

“Who cares what I think?”

“I do. I wouldn’t have asked you otherwise. It wasn’t a patronizing question.”

“It wasn’t? So, in other words, my answer will have some effect on how you proceed?” Monq frowned at that. “Yeah.” Glen chuckled. “That’s what I thought.”

Glen finished his lamb and pushed back from the table.

“Dessert?” Monq asked.

“No sugar, doc.” Glen’s hand went straight to his rock-hard abs as if to demonstrate the physical rigors expected of a field-active Black Swan knight. “Well,” he stood up, “thanks for dinner and, ah, ‘catching up’. See ya.”

Monq watched Glen leave without saying a word. He called the kitchen to come pick up the dinner setup and then headed over to Area Thirteen, where the vampire were kept.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Monq nodded at members of his staff on the way past and found Kristoph Falcon sitting on the floor outside the cell of the captive vampire.

He sat down on the floor next to Falcon, which was neither easy nor pleasant for someone his age. The floor was hard and, regardless of the fact that the sublevel was heated, it was cold to the touch. He immediately felt the chill seep through his pants where his body came in contact with the cement and wondered if it would aggravate the advancing arthritis.

“Sir Falcon,” he said. He hoped that the use of the formal title would bring Falcon into the moment so that Monq could get an accurate reading on his state of mind.

Falcon’s eyes appeared to clear. As he turned his head to the side and looked at Monq, he gritted his teeth. “You’re not going to kill her. I’ll kill you first.”

“I see,” Monq replied with a detached professional calm that gave no hint his life had just been threatened. “Have no fear. The vampire is not in any danger at present.” He looked at the vampire, whose unwavering gaze was unnerving, then turned his attention back to Falcon. “Is that why you’re here? You’re afraid she’ll be killed if you aren’t watching?”

“Isn’t that what you do when you’re finished with the ones you keep down here? Isn’t that what we do? Every day? We kill them. Right?”

“We do, but this one is different, special in several ways. For one thing a female is very rare, as you know. I’ve never had a chance to study one for clues as to why they are rare. Up to now we’ve had nothing but speculation. For another thing, this vampire used to be a person we all knew. And liked.” That got Falcon’s attention. “We’re going to try to find a way to bring her back.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not. Why would I?”

“To get me to leave.”

“I admit that I’d like to see you have something to eat and get some rest. Will you not take my word that she’s not in danger?”

“No. I won’t take your word. If you want me to eat and sleep, then bring me some food and a bed. I’m not leaving here.”

That evening Monq had made two attempts at getting knights to trust him and he was batting zero for two. He wondered if he was losing his touch.

“If there’s really no way I can change your mind about that then so be it. You can stay on one condition. You don’t interfere with our experiments. If you do not abide by my condition, I will not hesitate to have you removed. Understood?”

Falcon looked at Monq like he was really seeing him for the first time and nodded.

Monq had a moment’s trouble getting his knees to agree to help him stand. He’d gone stiff sitting on the floor for even that short time. He ambled away leaving Falcon exactly like he found him.

Half an hour later Kris Falcon heard wheel noise growing louder. He couldn’t have been more surprised to see a cart laden with a four course meal being pushed by the Area Thirteen guard on duty, who’d accepted it from kitchen staff. That was closely followed by a hospital bed, with two pillows and big thick blankets, being delivered by two of Monq’s staff who’d gotten the bed from the infirmary.

With a grateful look at the people delivering his requests, he said, “Thank you.”

After ordering food and bedding for Falcon, Monq had dialed the Sovereign.

“Yeah,” Rev said.

“Falcon and Catch are off rotation until further notice.”

“Are you shitting me?!?”

“I beg your pardon. Could I speak to the Sovereign? The one who has an absolute no-common-language policy?”

“Don’t talk to me about language. If you crawled up out of the ground now and then maybe you’d know we’re at war with an all new and improved vampire virus.”

Monq bristled at that and was on the verge of depleting his own well of patience. “I’m more aware than most. I’m the guy who’s trying to find a new cure. Remember?”

“I remember. What I’m saying is that I cannot be down two knights. I need them.”

“I sympathize, but it can’t be helped. These two are not fit for duty at the moment.”

“What the blazes am I supposed to do?”

“How should I know? Call up Z Team!”

“This place is already in enough of a shambles without turning those fuckwads loose on J.U. Again.”

“You know, I don’t want to beat a dead point, but this u-turn you’ve done on colorful language is a big change. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m careful about what I say around the kids.”

“No judgment. Just an observation. Why don’t you call up B Team?”

“When was the last time you poked your head up out of your hole? B TEAM IS ALREADY IN SERVICE! Except for Elora. She’s pregnant. Fennimore was standing in for her, but he has the flu so I stood in for him last night. And I feel guilty all the time about sending those guys out on the street because every one of them is too damn old. They want to be retired, concentrating on growing grapes or puppies or horses as the case may be. And they should be!”

“I’m hearing that you’re under a lot of stress and that it’s coupled with guilt. Would you like to come down and talk about it?”

“What?! NO!”

“Well, door’s always open. You could call up Dr. Renaux and get her husband to fill in.”

After a pause, Rev said, “That’s a possibility. Although it wouldn’t make my step-daughter-in-law any fonder of me. Also, they’re in the Amazon right now, days away from an airstrip. Infirmary says Harvest should be good to go in another two days, which means he’ll be back on the street before Nightsong could even get here. ”

“You almost make me glad I’ve got my problems instead of yours. I’ll keep you posted on Catch and Falcon.”

“Yeah. Do that,” he grumbled.

Wakenmann showed up just as Falcon was finishing dinner and said, “Hey.” His gaze went straight to the vampire in the glass-fronted cell. Few things were more unsettling than seeing a vampire in captivity, but the way she was focused on Falcon was so disturbing it was hard to look away.

“Hi,” Falcon said. “What do you want?”

“Is that any way to talk to your best friend?”

Falcon sighed. “Okay. How about this? I need a john break. Will you watch her while I go?”

“Watch her?”

“Yeah.”

“What exactly am I watching for?” Wakey glanced at the cell then tilted his head to the side when he asked, “What do you think she’s going to do?”

“It’s not what she’s going to do, farts-for-brains. It’s what they might do to her if I’m not here.”

“What do you think they might do if you’re not here?”

“Just watch her. Okay? Make sure nobody comes near her with…”

“A green-wood-bullet pistol, for instance?”

“Yeah.”

Wakey quietly appraised his friend for a few seconds. “Okay. I’ll be here.”

Falcon relaxed visibly. “Thanks, man. It was getting hard to hold.”

“Enough info, all right? Just go.”

Falcon started away, but turned back with a scowl on his face. “You wouldn’t break your word. Thinking you were doing me a favor or something. Would you?”

Wakey gaped with his mouth open. “You going paranoid on me? I’m the one who hit my head when you slammed me into that wall. No! I’m not going to tell you one thing and do another. It’s me you’re talking to.”

Falcon attempted a small smile. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“Go.”

Wakenmann took Falcon’s perch on the side of the hospital bed to wait for his friend to return. The vampire shifted the focus of her attention to Wakey. He started whistling, “Row, Row, Row Your Boat” to distract himself, but distraction was difficult because her gaze was strangely compelling. He felt like one of those prey animals that are supposedly hypnotized by snakes, and suspected that the vampire would be the subject of night terrors for years to come.

On arrival she’d been cleaned up and changed into plain blue scrubs. So at least he didn’t have to look at the thing with the bloodstains and smears she’d been wearing when they’d first come upon her in the alley.

He understood why Falcon was worried that someone would kill it while he was gone to the bathroom. All Wakenmann’s instincts as a vampire hunter told him to do it himself. Perhaps that was why Falcon was worried about leaving it unprotected. It was easier for Wakenmann to try and think of the creature as ‘it’ because it was disturbing to bestow personhood on a vampire. But it was just as disturbing to see the soulless shell of a person whom he’d known housing a vampire. He’d liked Genevieve, but she was no longer home.

“Hey,” he said to the poor creature inside the holding cell. “Don’t you have something else to look at?”

If it registered at all in the vampire’s brain that he’d spoken, she hid it well.

CHAPTER NINE

Day Two - Psych Eval

The next morning Glen reported to the Sovereign’s office as requested. Rev’s door was closed when he arrived, but the duty admin rose and showed him in right away. Rev didn’t even look away from his monitor. Without a greeting or any semblance of pleasantry, he said, “Catch, you’re off rotation until further notice.”

Lines formed between Glen’s brows. “Off rotation? Why?”

“You need some down time.”

“Who says?”

Glen felt panic rise in his chest. Off rotation? Without vampire hunting, what did he have to hold onto? Nothing. He’d be afloat on a raft in a sea of emptiness.

That tone got Rev’s full attention. He looked up from the monitor and said evenly, “Because you and I have history, I’m going to pretend you did not just use that tone with me or question my order. The fact that you did only firms up my thinking that you’re in need of down time. Bottom line. When Monq clears you to return to duty, you’re back. Not before.”

A muscle in his jaw rippled visibly. “Monq.”

“Get on his schedule. The sooner you get things sorted, the sooner you’ll be back on the roster. And I need you back on that roster.”

“I know you do.” Under his breath, he said, “Everybody needs me on their roster.”

“What was that?” The Sovereign was getting that severe expression that meant Glen had pushed his luck and overstayed his welcome.

“Nothing. Sir.”

Glen stalked out of the office and fumed, nostrils flaring, all the way to Monq’s complex, which consisted of offices, labs, quarters for himself and some of the staff and, of course, the vampire specimens. Glen went straight to Monq’s office and happened to find him there. He stormed in and stood in front of Monq’s desk, shifting from foot to foot like he couldn’t stand to be inside his own body a moment longer.

“What did you tell the Sovereign about me?”

Monq looked up from whatever task he was addressing and managed to sound semi-cheerful. “Glen.” He glanced at the door Glen had left standing open. “Come in.”

“What did you tell the Sovereign to get me pulled from duty?”

Monq sat back, looking unperturbed. “That you’ve been overworked.”

“That’s BULLSHIT!” Glen shouted.

Then he proceeded to punctuate that declaration by picking up a priceless Chinese vase and smashing it against the nearest mahogany bookshelf. While Glen went about dismantling much of the office, Monq sat back in his chair and watched, looking as dispassionate as if the hunter was bacteria on a slide.

By the time Glen was finished with his spree of destruction, three-quarters of the books were off the shelves. One chair was broken beyond repair. A ficus tree was shredded and leafless. And numerous curiosities with value known only to Monq had been rendered trash.

Hearing the racket, Monq’s staff had come to the door looking alarmed and wide-eyed. Monq had held up his hand to stay them. After a couple of minutes they had backed away and gone about their business assured by faith that, if anybody on Earth knew what he was doing, it must be Thelonious Monq.

Glen stood panting, in a half crouch, looking at Monq like he was waiting for a reaction.

“Dinner here again tonight. Seven o’clock,” was all Monq said.

In response, Glen picked up the heavy pot that had held the ficus tree and, with a frustrated snarl amplified by werewolf vocal cords, threw it against the flat screen monitor that projected Monq’s illusion of a fireplace. The glass fractured into an ugly web of shards as dirt spilled out of the cracked pot and onto the carpet. Monq’s office looked like a horde of barbarians had swept through. It didn’t seem possible that one guy could have done so much damage in less than ten minutes. Glen stared at his handiwork for a couple of seconds before walking out without a backward glance toward Monq.

Six hours later Glen arrived at Monq’s door. At precisely seven o’clock. The door was open. Monq was behind his desk. Glen stood at the threshold and looked around the room without entering.

Everything was in its place. Books were on the shelves. A cheerful video fire flickered from a shiny black monitor built into the wall underneath the fireplace mantel. There was even a new ficus tree in an identical pot, although it did appear to be somewhat larger and fluffier than the one Glen had destroyed.

Monq didn’t look up. He simply said, “Come in. Dinner will be here in a few minutes. I felt like Swedish meatballs with egg noodles. Hope that’s okay with you.”

Glen stared at Monq for a few beats. “I’m sorry about, uh…”

“Dinner,” the server announced as he neared the door with a rolling cart.

Glen stepped into the room and out of the way. He watched the man prepare the table for dinner, as he had the night before.

When the server had finished setting out dinner and opening a bottle of pinot noir, he said to Monq, “Is that satisfactory, sir?”

“Yes,” said Monq. “Thank you. Please close the door on your way out.”

The man nodded, pushed the cart to the other side of the door then closed it behind him.

Monq rose and walked around his desk. “Let’s eat,” he said with a smile.

Glen seemed confused by Monq’s nonchalant manner. He’d expected a right good railing. Instead Monq was behaving as if nothing unusual had happened earlier in the day.

Glen sat down looking chastised even though he hadn’t been. “I was saying that I’m sorry about…”

“That’s not necessary, Catch. It was of little consequence. Except for the eleventh century Bergere chair. Apparently Farnsworth had some trouble running one down and, when she found it, the upholstery was hideous. No matter. She got an antiques restorer to put a rush on replacement and it should be here tomorrow.

“You do, however, owe me a story for my trouble. Let’s begin with your first assignment, shall we? Z team, I think it was.”

Glen slumped back in his chair as Monq dived into his salad.

Staring at his plate without making a move toward a fork, Glen said, “Z Team.” His eyes glazed over like he was having an out-of-body experience. “They sent us to Shanghai.” He raised his eyes to meet Monq’s. “You ever seen an Asian vampire?”

Monq shook his head. “Can’t say that I have.”

“Well, it’s even more eerie because the ice pale eyes are so out of place on their faces.” Monq noticed the rapid twitching of the tablecloth hem, which meant that, out of sight under the table, Glen’s knee was juddering fast. It was an obvious indicator of stress and nerves and one that Glen would have taken care to hide if he’d realized the movement of the tablecloth hem was giving him away.

“Go on.”

Glen’s attention had wandered to the bookshelves, but his gaze jerked back at the sound of Monq’s voice.

“Shanghai,” Glen said dispassionately. “It’s a wild place.”

“Do you speak Mandarin?”

“I do now.” He shrugged. “Limited. No Westerner who learns it as an adult is ever going to speak it well.”

Monq nodded. “Probably not. So you were with Z Team in Shanghai and you were, what? Twenty years old?”

“Yeah. About that. Not old enough to be taken seriously by those guys. Not that they take anyone or anything seriously but themselves.” He gave a slight headshake to the bookcase that had drawn his attention. “Anyway. Shanghai was wild and so were they. Nightsong had left the team, gotten married and had a new job that boiled down to being his wife’s bodyguard.” Glen laughed at that. “I understand that it’s a job he takes very seriously.”

“I’ll bet. I got to know his wife a little. So who else was on the team?”

“Torn Finngarick. Of course.”

“Of course.”

“Gunnar was still active then. And they’d gotten a new guy besides me, only he came on the usual way somebody makes Z Team. Fuckup of phenomenal magnitude. Stephrelle Bridesmore. Never did learn Chinese worth a shit.” Glen’s eyes flicked to Monq and away. “Sorry.”

“Stop apologizing. Continue.”

“Well, Torn and Gun had already, I guess you’d say, bonded with Bridesmore. It made sense. He was just like them. Oozing attitude. All tatted up. Belligerent to the extreme. Hostile if you rubbed him the wrong way and, believe me, that was not hard to do. He didn’t mind being called Steph, but would turn mean as a snake if somebody called him Stephie.”

“Sounds like you found that out the hard way.”

“Nah. It wasn’t me. Some other fool in the unit.” Glen picked up his water glass and took a drink. “The short and sweet is this. Steph belonged there. I didn’t. End of story.”

Monq chuckled. “I have a feeling there’s much more to the story than that. These meatballs are perfection. You should give them a try.” He made a yummie sound that was barely on the manly side of silly. “And the noodles are buttery. They make them fresh in the kitchen. Did you know that?” He nodded and laughed. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they didn’t have a milk cow and churn the butter that went into these little delights. Nothing’s too good for Black Swan knights. You know what I mean?” Glen sneered at that. “And the rest of us including myself, a simple scientist, get to be the incidental beneficiaries of your good fortune.”

Glen snorted out a derisive huff. “My good fortune? If you think it’s good fortune to be a Black Swan knight, you should try it yourself. Want to trade places for a couple of weeks?”

Monq put his fork down and looked serious. “No. I wouldn’t. You’re not the first knight to come through my door looking the worse for wear.”

Glen maintained eye contact with Monq for only a couple of seconds before he broke it off and pretended to be interested in looking around the room again. After a thorough sweep of the surroundings, his eyes came to rest on the plate in front of him, but still he didn’t make a move to try the meatballs.

Undeterred, Monq continued prodding. “So you’d just arrived in Shanghai. And you were partnered with Bridesmore?”

“Yeah. Torn and Gunnar had been together a long time. Steph’s a good guy in his way, but he never saw me as his equal. He never once called me by my name. Just Rookie. Even that was seldom. He had an adverse reaction to conversation of pretty much any kind.”

“Quiet?”

Glen’s responding smile was bitter. “Understatement. Severe.” Looking at his plate again, the fake smile fell away. He suddenly sat up, reached for a fork, pulled the salad plate in front of him, speared a forkful of greens and stuffed it into his mouth. “So patrolling was kind of weird,” he said absently, like he’d almost forgotten he wasn’t supposed to have an appetite or be receptive to conversation.

“In what way?”

“Well, like I said, the district that draws leeches because that’s where the night life is. It’s buzzing with clubs and bars and neon lights. Place is full of rich expats from all over looking for a good time and sometimes their idea of a good time is, let’s say, unusual. Sometimes it’s what you might call dark.

“Some of the bars are so packed you can’t move around. A vampire could be sucking somebody dry right next to clueless people drinking Manhattans and screaming in each other’s ears, trying to be heard over the noise.”

Monq raised his eyebrows causing lines to form on his forehead. “You saw that? Or you’re just saying that could happen?”

Glen gave Monq a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Yes. I saw it happen. Vamp looked right at me while he was killing somebody. Almost like he knew what I was and that I couldn’t touch him in the middle of a crowd like that. Maybe I’m crazy, but it felt like a taunting. When he finished with the victim, he started pushing through the crowd in the other direction. We followed, or tried to, practically throwing people out of our way, but we lost him somewhere before we got to the back door. I wanted… no, I needed to talk about how frustrating that was. Steph just shrugged and walked off. If it bothered him, he did a spectacular job of covering it up. Like I said, talking wasn’t his thing.”

“What about other people at the unit?”

Glen set the salad plate aside and pushed the noodles around like he was deciding which would be the lucky winner. He forked three, put them in his mouth, and said, “There were some good guys. Some I might have become friends with if I’d been there long enough. A big part of the reason why knights are close to team members is because that’s who you spend most of your time with.”

“Makes sense. So did you discuss it with Torn and Gunnar?”

“I told them what happened when we met up. They just said ‘happens’. One word. End of discussion.”

“Sounds like they’d developed some emotional calluses. How long had you been active when that incident occurred?”

“Three days.” Glen cut a Swedish meatball in half. “Emotional calluses. Clever, doc. You should be a writer.” He took a bite. “I guess that’s right though. They’d seen and done all this stuff at that point. They were closer to the end of their career than the beginning. But it was new to me. The ugliness. When I left here I was thinking I was charging off on this noble mission. Save the world.” He mocked himself in a quixotic way, laughed and shook his head. “Stupid. Young and stupid and completely without emotional calluses, which, as it turns out, are crucial to the job. Well, except…”

Monq thought it best to ignore the fact that a sentence was left open-ended. “You don’t think you’ve been on a noble mission to save the world.”

Glen sighed and looked at the fake fire while he ate more noodles. “I get it. You want me to open my soul so you can dig around and find a way to decommission me.”

“Nothing could be further from the truth, Sir Catch. I want to help restore your peace of mind so that you can continue serving The Order in the capacity of your choice.”

Glen looked at Monq and held eye contact that time, assessing Monq for credulity. “That the truth?”

“Gods’ own truth. Whatever you tell me remains between the two of us. Only the two of us and I will take it to my death. And, by the way, this office is a judgment-free zone.”

Monq could tell that Glen was using his people-reading skills to evaluate his answer.

“Judgment-free, huh.” Glen seemed to be considering that as he ate the last chunk of meatball.

Monq waited, knowing that the next sentence Glen uttered would be his implied consent for treatment or a rejection that would be almost impossible to break through.

When Glen looked up again, he said, “Okay. Here it is. Sometimes I think I’m the one that needs saving. Not the world.”

Monq smiled. “Oh. Is that all?”

Glen laughed. To an observer it might have seemed like a simple, ordinary everyday thing. But to Monq, it was a thrilling signal of hope. It meant that Glen, the brilliant, affable kid with a universe of potential, the one everybody loved, was still in there, waiting for someone or something to bring him back and give him a kickstart out of his stall. A reason to start living again.

“By the way,” Monq set his napkin beside his plate, “are you in touch with family?”

“Thought you read my file, doc. I don’t have any family to be in touch with.”

“Your file was, ah, vague on the subject.” He waited for Glen to add something. After a few seconds of silence, he said, “Some other time then.”

CHAPTER TEN

When the fourth vampire specimen was delivered to the cell prepared for him, Monq called Jean Etienne. Well, he called Baka and asked that a message be relayed the next time he was in touch with the immortals.

The delay between the initiation of that request and receipt of the message could have been days or even weeks, but the immortals were in Paris working with the Black Swan teams when Monq reached Baka. Within half an hour of hanging up the phone with the ex-vampire, Jean Etienne was standing in front of Monq’s desk.

Jean Etienne was one of the original vampire created by the god-like brat, Heralda. He was thousands of years old, but appeared to be in his early thirties.

Like all the immortals he was beautiful. Beauty was part of the design that assisted vampire with easy sustenance. The first step in the process of feeding was to cause the blood donor to feel drawn to the vampire and at ease with being alone with them. The second was to take a small enough amount of blood that it wouldn’t be missed. Except in rare cases of unusual brain chemistry, humans reached such a state of ecstasy that they forgot their encounters with vampire altogether. The effect was much like a petit mal seizure. By the time victims regained full control of their faculties puncture wounds were healed by the properties of immortal saliva.

Now and then a drop or two of blood might escape and be left on clothing as evidence, but humans were good at passing such things off as little mysteries then forgetting all about it. Or explaining it away with something as reasonably logical as a minor nose bleed.

On the rare occasions when humans remembered involuntarily nurturing a vampire, they quickly learned that their stories were fodder for ridicule or even serious concern for their sanity.

Jean Etienne’s version of beauty presented itself as dark brown locks that fell haphazardly around his face and blue eyes that were almost as pale as humans-turned-vampire. He was medium height and build which made blood withdrawal physically convenient.

Most of Jean Etienne’s peers, meaning those as old as he, had taken mates having found that time passing slowly is better lived with love. Some of them had reproduced, which may or may not have been part of Heralda’s plan. Jean Etienne had considered the option, but had never crossed paths with a female worthy of the ultimate in long-term commitment.

For the past few hundred years, he’d been working as a vampire version of a nanny, babysitting adolescent males who, though hundreds of years old themselves, were as immature as human sixteen-year-olds requiring constant supervision. Although he believed the responsibility of working with the Black Swan knights had been good for them and given them a purpose beyond hedonism.

The occupation had originally relieved some of the boredom. Millennia can become monotonous, after all. But for the past fifty years or so Jean Etienne had begun to feel like he’d integrated all the personal value that particular service had to offer.

No doubt there would be panic amongst several sets of parents when he turned in his notice. He had the sort of quiet patience that could only come from knowing that he wasn’t running out of time. He’d grown fond of the boys, of course, but they were not his children. They were his charges. And there was a difference.

At first their antics were amusing, but too much of anything wears thin. Jean Etienne was old enough to remember when Epicurous had suggested moderation in all things during the heyday of Greek culture.

He was skeptical about Monq’s experiment, but felt compelled by honor to agree because they were not making much headway cleaning up the mess that the vampire virus had made in Loti Dimension. He was prepared, should it become necessary, to reveal the means by which so-called immortals could be killed. He would not enable the insanity produced by the vampire virus to become a menacing madness of eternal duration.

With vampire eyes Jean Etienne could see the aging that had changed Monq in the past seven years since they’d first met. A part of him thought it was sad that the entire life of a human would be no more than the length of a good nap. Another part of him envied them their short lives and the sense of urgency that motivated them to seek life at its fullest.

“Oh. There you are,” said Monq. “Thank you for coming. This won’t take long.” Monq rose and gestured toward the door. “Right this way.”

“Can I see them?” Jean Etienne spoke very good English, but with a definite French accent.

“Who? Oh. The vampire?” Monq looked curious. “You can, of course, but why would you want to?”

“I will need to monitor developments closely. Please don’t take offense, but there is the possibility that results could create a situation outside your ability to manage.”

“In that case, I should be grateful that you’re offering more than just blood.”

“Yes. Well. I’d like to see what the, um, specimens look like, act like, before the initial infusion of my blood.”

“I like a methodical approach, myself. Follow me.”

Jean Etienne looked over the facilities as he walked behind Monq. He scanned every office and lab as they passed. Of course, Monq’s staff mirrored the vampire’s curiosity. Some of them had seen Jean Etienne because they’d been in residence for some years, but many had been hired or transferred in since the French vampire were a common sight around J.U.

Last stop on the research level was the cluster of enclosures that housed vampire of the infected variety unique to Loti Dimension.

When Jean Etienne saw Falcon, sitting on the side of a hospital bed pushed against the wall, staring at one of the cells, he silently turned to Monq for an explanation.

“The knight on the bed is Sir Kristoph Falcon. He was friends with the vampire that is currently preoccupying his time and attention.”

Jean Etienne followed Falcon’s gaze and said, “A female? I thought the virus infects only males.”

“It’s a rare occurrence, but we have records of several such anomalies.”

Looking back at Falcon, he said, “Why is he sitting there like a gargoyle?”

“I’m right here and I can hear, you know.” To Monq, Falcon said, “Is that him?”

Monq ignored Falcon and spoke to Jean Etienne. “Falcon was too young to have seen you when you were here years ago. He was a student then. The short of it is that he’s afraid we’ll kill her if he leaves or looks away. He’s refusing to give up his self-imposed post unless one of his close friends is watching her.”

Jean Etienne looked from Falcon to the infected vampire.

“Her name is Genevieve. Genevieve Bonheur,” said Falcon with the proper accent.

“French,” said Jean Etienne.

“Yes,” Monq confirmed. “She was transferred from the unit in Paris. Been with us for six years and had been promoted to head of Operations.”

“I see.” With more empathy than one would expect from a vampire, Jean Etienne said, “That must have been difficult for all of you. I’ll start with this one.”

“I’ll need to sedate her.”

Jean Etienne looked at Monq and then laughed out loud. “Why?”

“Well…” Monq spluttered, “so you won’t be harmed, of course.” After a second, Monq said, “I suppose that was a silly thing to say. You can’t be harmed, can you?”

“Not by a faux vampire.”

“What are you going to do?”

Jean Etienne looked at Monq like he was senile. “I’m going to give her blood. As we agreed.”

“You mean…?” Monq’s expression vacillated between astounded and horrified. “You’re not going to let her…”

“Bite me? Yes. I am. What did you think? That I was going to allow you to fill little syringes? With immortal blood?” Jean Etienne looked genuinely entertained by Monq’s naivete. “Indeed no. I was not, as you say, born yesterday.”

“You think I would use your blood for nefarious purposes?”

“Perhaps not you. Perhaps someone who works for you. The prospect of living forever could cause ordinarily honest people to act out of the ordinary.”

Monq scowled. “As much as I’d like to argue, I see your point. And I hadn’t thought of that. So you’re going to allow each of these four vampire to, ah…”

“Bite me. Yes. I am. And we’re going to begin with her.”

Monq looked dubious, but he was more beggar than chooser in that situation. “What do you need from us? The environment is sterile.”

“It matters not. I’m not subject to mal effects of bacteria. Likewise, I’m not carrying anything with deleterious effects.”

“What about your clothing?”

“By the time the subject’s body might react to such things, she will have properties flowing through her veins that would render her immune.”

Monq looked uncertain.

Falcon jumped down off the bed and stood in front of Monq. “You are not considering letting this… guy in there with her!”

“This ‘guy’, as you call him, is her only chance, Falcon. Are you so sleep-deprived you don’t know that?”

He stood in front of the opening. “No. That’s final.”

“Falcon,” Monq began, but Jean Etienne held up a hand to stop Monq from trying to reason.

Jean Etienne caught Falcon’s eye and hypnotized him almost instantly. When Falcon went to sleep, Jean Etienne caught him and lifted him onto the bed as if his large muscled body weighed no more than a baby.

“Perhaps he needed a little sleep. Yes?” Monq simply stared at Jean Etienne. “Do not be concerned. He will awake feeling refreshed and…”

“Relaxed. I know. I’ve recited that line hundreds of times,” said Monq as he looked at the vampire who used to be the J.U. Operations Manager. “You’re sure this is the best way?”

“I will control the amount. Tiny increments. As agreed.”

“Okay.” He shrugged. “It’s your…” Monq caught himself mid-sentence, deciding that it would be stupid to say it’s your funeral to an immortal. “Whatever you say,” he finished. “I’ll let you in.” Monq walked toward the control pad and looked back at the vampire, who was studying him with an amused expression. Monq dropped his hand. “I don’t suppose you need me to let you in.”

Jean Etienne began shaking his head on the outside of the enclosure and finished on the inside.

The vampire possessing the body of Genevieve Bonheur rushed him in a fury of fangs and pupils dilating to make the pale blue eyes look even more disturbing. But before she reached him, he held up his hand and froze her in place.

He switched from English to French and said quietly, as one would to calm a wild animal, “I will not hurt you, mademoiselle. Nor will I allow you to hurt anyone else. You will drink from me until I tell you to stop then you will return to your cot and sleep for a while. Do you understand?”

Apparently Jean Etienne was able to pierce through the guise of psychosis and reach cognitive function. She nodded her head slightly, though she looked confused by her own actions.

Jean Etienne opened his shirt, baring his hairless chest. He took Genevieve’s hand in his and used the once-manicured nail on her index finger to open the vein in his neck.

“Drink,” he said. She looked hungrily at the rivulet of blood. Jean Etienne gently pulled her face toward his neck. Her tongue flicked out and touched the scarlet liquid. After lapping eagerly for a few seconds, she bit down.

Jean Etienne knew she’d already taken more than he’d intended. “Stop.” He felt her desire to resist, but her mind wasn’t strong enough to overpower his will. “Stop.” He pulled her away gently but firmly, and then said, “Sleep.”

She turned, crawled onto the bed that was bolted to the wall, lay down as obediently as a sleepy child, and closed her eyes so that she looked peaceful as a picture in repose.

Jean Etienne appeared in the hallway again. “Next,” he said.

Monq watched as Jean Etienne fed the other three vampire though he noted he allowed the males to drink only from his wrists and not his neck.

When all four had received their first “treatment”, Jean Etienne’s clothing looked like he’d been to a massacre.

“Do you have some spare clothing?” he asked Monq. I’ll be staying until the subjects awaken to monitor the results of the first test.

“Of course. I’ll be right back.”

Monq stepped a few yards away and instructed one of his lab assistants to procure men’s clothing in a size large. When he returned, he asked, “How long do you expect them to sleep?”

Jean Etienne lifted a shoulder. “Perhaps four, perhaps five hours. Impossible to say conclusively since this has not been done before. But I will be here.”

“I see. What can I do to be hospitable and make you comfortable in the meantime?”

Jean Etienne pursed his lips. “TV?”

“We don’t have a cable feed in this section of the building, but I can bring you a device with television programs and movies loaded.”

Jean Etienne smiled. “That will be fine.”

“Would you like anything to, um, eat or drink?”

Jean Etienne smiled. “Just a chair so that I can sit in the hall and keep an eye on the subjects.”

“Of course.”

When Monq’s assistant arrived with soft khaki pants and a flannel shirt, men’s large, he told the assistant to get maintenance to bring one of the cushy overstuffed club chairs down from the bar and put it in the hallway. The assistant turned around and left, mumbling something about the hallway turning into a lounge.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Day Three - Psych Eval

“Yeah. Sao Paulo,” Glen said between mouthfuls of prime rib, end cut, well done, a tiny bit charred on the outside. “But that wasn’t nearly as bad as Marrakech.” Glen blinked rapidly like he was surprised he’d said that. “This is confidential. Right?”

“Nothing has changed since last night and the night before, Sir Catch. What you say goes no further than these old ears. What is it that needs to be privileged about a reference to Morocco?”

Glen took in a breath that caused his chest to heave visibly and let it out. “It’s just not like any other unit. Half the knights there are jumped up on something. On any given day you’ll find a few tweaking, and if you don’t think that’s a recipe for disaster… A trained knight in that condition?”

Monq had been a professional at listening for so long he rarely had to school his features, but that revelation caused him to work at looking passively detached. He was shocked that such a thing could be going on in an installation of Black Swan, but would have bet The Order’s bank that if Glen said it, it was true.

While Monq was trying to sort his thoughts, Glen continued, “I didn’t know whether to be more afraid of the leeches or being accidentally shot or staked by another knight hallucinating. It’s nothing like this.” Glen waved to indicate Jefferson Unit. “It’s the unwashed crotch of the world and people who are sent there by The Order act like they fit right in. They have whores coming in and out of the unit.” He laughed and shook his head. “It’s not even considered a security compromise.”

Monq couldn’t help looking a little unsettled as he reached for his wine. “Do you know how many posts you’ve been assigned to? Altogether?”

Glen cocked his head slightly, thinking. “I’d have to make a list.”

“I see. Tell me, why did you choose to be a floater?”

Glen stopped eating long enough to gape at Monq. “Choose?” The bitterness in his chuckle was unmistakable. “You’re kidding, right? Who would choose that?”

“I looked at your file. You’ve had eleven assignments since your induction. Hardly time to put your full weight down in any one place.” Glen continued eating, pretending to be blasé about what Monq was saying. “What about girlfriends?”

Glen shook his head. “Girls? Yes. Girlfriends. No.”

“Didn’t you used to be close to the Storm girl?”

Glen stopped chewing and, judging from the look on his face, Monq perceived that he’d hit a nerve.

“Long time ago, doc.”

“Hmmm. And no family, you say?”

“Again. You read my file. You know there’s no family.”

“Tell me how you feel about that.”

“I don’t feel anything about that. There’s nothing to feel. Some people have families. Some don’t.” When Monq appeared to be waiting for Glen to continue, he took a sip of wine and added, “I was put in foster care before I was old enough to have any other memories. I thought there was something wrong with me until I was recruited by Black Swan.” He shrugged. “You know, because I can make sounds that aren’t completely, ah, human. That’s when I learned that there’s some werewolf mixed in. I was told likely one quarter. That would be one of four grandparents, none of which ever turned up asking about me. To my knowledge.”

“Did you try to find your parents?”

“No.”

“You weren’t curious?” Monq read the hesitation on Glen’s face. “Oh. It’s not that you weren’t curious. You were afraid to learn that they had never regretted giving you up.”

Glen nodded, looking like the idea had haunted him most of his life.

“Tell me something. If you could have anything from life, what would it be?”

Glen smirked, but didn’t hesitate. “A do-over. And don’t ask me what that means because it’s personal and I’m not going to…”

Before he finished the sentence, the screaming began.

“What the…?” Monq was out the door surprisingly quickly for someone his age.

The sound was coming from the part of the labs where vampire specimens were contained. Glen was right behind Monq. When they reached the enclosures, the air was filled with a macabre duet of screams coming from two of the male vampire. The headless corpse of the third was lying on the floor of his cell.

Monq looked at Falcon, who’d been awakened from his vampire-induced coma. He looked decidedly rattled.

“What happened?” Monq asked him.

“The biter started screaming and throwing himself against the walls.” Falcon looked at the remaining two males. “Like those two are doing now. That fucking Frenchy disappeared, then reappeared inside the cell. He ripped the guy’s head off and vanished with it.”

Just as Falcon finished relaying his eye witness report, Jean Etienne appeared in the cell of one of the two other vampire. As Falcon had reported, Jean Etienne forcibly removed the head of the specimen who seemed desperate to get out of his skin and vanished with the head while the rest of the corpse slumped to the ground. Monq, Catch, and Falcon watched in morbid fascination, meaning that they wouldn’t have been able to look away no matter how hard they might have tried, as the process was repeated.

Jean Etienne reappeared in the hallway next to them. When the immortal looked at Genevieve, all eyes followed his gaze. The psychotic expression she’d worn since she’d awakened in the lab had been replaced by an expressive intelligence that looked remarkably like that of the Operations Manager prior to infection.

They stared at her for a few seconds before Jean Etienne said to Monq. “The only conclusion I can offer up to this point is that the experiment was largely unsuccessful.” Glen was thinking that was the understatement of the century. “Whether or not this is something worth pursuing seems doubtful. However…”

Jean Etienne looked down at his clothing, soaked in blood. “I’d like a shower and more clothes. Then I will look in on the subject who appears lucid.”

Monq couldn’t recall having ever, before in his life, been speechless. He attempted to clear his throat, but failed at even that, making a sound that was part gargle and part choking. With a concentrated effort, he composed himself enough to say, “You can use the shower in my quarters. I’ll send for more clothes.” Monq pointed at one of the assistants who’d been drawn to the scene because of the ruckus. “Marissa, please show our guest the way.” To one of the white coats standing by, he said, “Bertron, please bring another change of clothes. What you brought before will do. You can leave them outside the door to my private bath.”

Bertron nodded and left as quickly and quietly as a trained butler.

Falcon hadn’t looked away from Genevieve since he’d awakened. When Jean Etienne was gone, he said, “She’s different. You can see she looks like herself. I want to talk to her.”

“Let’s let Jean Etienne evaluate her condition first.”

“Why? It’s not like he knows her.”

“Just indulge me. Shall I review our agreement? You can stay so long as you don’t interfere.”

Looking at the scene of carnage that had become of three-quarters of that part of the lab, Glen said to Monq, “You’re not going to be high on the maintenance crew’s popularity chart. I’m thinking we’re done for tonight.”

As he walked away, Monq croaked, “Dinner tomorrow night at seven.”

Glen paused, looked back over his shoulder and shook his head. “Only at Jefferson Unit.”

When Jean Etienne returned looking clean, wearing jeans and a dark navy Henley, he walked toward the enclosure where Genevieve was being held. He arrived just as she had risen from the cot and approached the glass wall separating her from Monq and Falcon. She no longer looked rabid. More than anything she seemed confused. She had just opened her mouth to say something when Jean Etienne’s approach drew her attention.

His pace didn’t slow when he reached the barrier between the hallway and the cell. He more or less blinked out and then was on the other side.

Genevieve did not appear alarmed. Personnel who are easily alarmed are not candidates for being hired by Black Swan.

“What am I doing here?” she asked Jean Etienne in English.

He answered in French, which was understood by both Monq and Falcon, because he thought using her native language would help put her at ease.

“Unfortunately you were infected by the vampire virus,” he said.

She took a step back as the recognition of that truth sprang into her consciousness. She brought a hand to her mouth as her eyes filled with tears almost instantly.

Falcon said to Monq, “He shouldn’t be the one talking to her. She needs the familiarity of somebody she knows.”

“Quiet,” Monq said without looking at Falcon. “Let him handle it. We could be looking at a miracle and, as a scientist, I don’t bandy that word about indiscriminately.”

Falcon chuffed.

“I remember,” Genevieve practically whispered as big tears rolled down her face. “So that means that I…” Her eyes jerked to Monq, whom she could see looking on from the other side of the glass, then moved to Falcon and lingered there for a few beats.

“You exhibited all the symptoms. Yes,” Jean Etienne continued.

“Then how…?” She looked down at the scrubs she’d been dressed in after having been brought into the lab, then ran her hands over her body as if she was checking for wounds. “How is it that I feel… all right?”

Before Jean Etienne could answer she took in a big gulp of air. “I didn’t hurt anyone, did I? Please tell me I didn’t hurt anyone.”

“What’s important for the moment is how you are feeling. Do you know who I am?” She shook her head. “We’ve never met. I’m Jean Etienne. I’m a vampire. A, ah, real one. I’ve been working with Black Swan to find a cure for this virus that plagues your dimension.”

Genevieve was clearly wrestling with a desire to restore her dignity. “Yes. I know about you.”

While it was clear that Jean Etienne was studying her current state, he was also deftly managing a difficult situation with kindness, the sort of kindness that isn’t transmitted by words, but by expression and intonation.

She looked over at Monq and Falcon again before returning her attention to Jean Etienne.

“You have ingested some of my blood. It appears that you’ve been restored to yourself. Perhaps temporarily. Perhaps permanently. It’s too early to know. That’s why we must carefully observe you for changes, however small, in the coming hours and days.”

“I see,” she said, making every effort not to sound plaintive. “No. I don’t see really. When you say I’m restored to myself, you mean I’m not going to want… blood. Is that what you mean?”

“No. I mean your personality has been restored. But I don’t want to be dishonest. More than likely your biology has been permanently changed.”

Genevieve stared at Jean Etienne as if he were a devil come to take her soul to the nether realms. “You mean the next time I’m hungry it will be for…” She couldn’t quite manage to say the word out loud.

“For blood. Yes.” She looked so distraught and horrified that Jean Etienne wanted to say something to soothe her. “It isn’t bad, you know.”

“Oh, gods.” Genevieve clutched at her stomach and all but stumbled back to sit on the cot.

Seeing that his effort had not had the desired effect, Jean Etienne looked at Monq as if for help.

“We do not know for certain what you will want or when you will want it. This is new to all of us. You’re the first person ever to be exposed to the virus and drink immortal blood.”

Incredulity had replaced disgust when she looked up at him. “I’m an experiment.”

“Well…”

“I am! An experiment!”

Jean Etienne looked at Monq. “Well…”

“What’s the goal of the experiment?”

Jean Etienne scowled. “I think perhaps the goal has changed?” He looked at Monq. “Because the result was unexpected.”

“Unexpected in what way?” Jean Etienne hesitated. “TELL ME!”

“There were four of you when the experiment began. The other three had to be…” he glanced at Monq again, “euthanized.”

“Euthanized?” She looked even more horrified.

Jean Etienne sat down at the other end of the cot. “This is a shock for you. Yes?”

In English, she said, “You think?” She then reverted to French. “What is the goal of this experiment now?”

Jean Etienne looked at her. “The goal is to keep you alive.”

“So that I can stay in here for the rest of my life and be a lab rat? No thanks.”

“What do you mean. ‘no thanks’?”

“I mean no. I do not accept this option. Just ‘euthanize’ me now.”

“I’m certain those are not the only two options.”

“Really? What’s the third?”

Jean Etienne looked at Monq, who had no answer for that. “We’ll figure something out.”

Genevieve scooted to the rear of the cot so that she was sitting with her back to the wall. “Why were the others euthanized?” she asked quietly.

“They were also given a small amount of my blood. We had hoped there might be properties that would create a curative effect.”

“What happened?”

“They were not able to tolerate it.”

“But I did.”

Jean Etienne nodded. “Yes. So far.”

“And why do you think that is?”

“I have no conclusive answer.”

“Fine. Speculate.”

“You know that human females rarely survive exposure to the vampire virus?”

“I’d never thought much about it.”

“It’s quite rare. I imagine that whatever enabled your system to integrate the virus and survive has also enabled you to benefit from this experiment.”

“Benefit,” she repeated to no one in particular. She looked out toward the hallway beyond her glass partition. “Why is there a hospital bed in the hallway?”

“The young hunter refused to leave. He was afraid you’d be harmed. He believes he’s looking after you. Protecting you. So they brought him a bed.”

“Oh, gods,” she said for the second time and brought her knees up as if to shelter her body from more information.

“I need to ask you a few questions.”

“Go ahead,” she said quietly.

“What are you feeling right now? Do you feel hot or cold?” She shook her head. “Hungry or thirsty?” She shook her head. “Do you need to relieve yourself?” She looked around the room and saw that there was no toilet facility with the possible exception of a drain in the middle of the floor. “I suppose it’s a good thing I don’t.”

He nodded and continued. “Do you feel ill at ease?”

She glared at him. “I’m a prisoner in an experiment that can’t end well for me. It means I’m either dead or worse. OF COURSE I’M ILL AT EASE.” He held up his hands. “Idiot,” she muttered.

At that Jean Etienne had the thought that she had probably been a magnificent woman. He would have smiled except for the fact that he knew she’d think it sadistic, given the circumstances.

“So what’s next?”

“We wait.”

“That’s it?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“So. You’re going to wait in here? With me?”

“Would you rather I wait outside?”

“I don’t care what you do.”

“In that case I’ll wait in here.”

“Whatever.”

“All things considered, you are handling this very well. It can’t be easy to go shopping then wake up in a lab.”

“Feeling sorry for me?”

“Yes,” he said honestly.

She sighed. “Well, stop it or I’ll start feeling sorry for myself.”

“You don’t feel sorry for yourself?”

“If I do, it’s none of your business.”

“Are you sleepy?”

“No. I’m not sleepy. Look. Let me make this easier for both of us. I don’t feel anything except sad. Physically I feel disturbingly good.”

“Why do you say disturbingly?”

“Because I’ve just found out that I’m a vampire. My days for feeling okay are over.”

“Feeling good is a natural state of being for vampire. I mean real vampire, like myself.”

“As opposed to the fake vampire that my employer is sworn to hunt down and kill?”

“Yes. As opposed to that.”

“Look. If you’re going to hang around, why don’t you think of something else to talk about? The least you could do is try to distract me.”

“Yes. I could do that. I have movies on a… thing.”

After a pause of a few seconds, Genevieve said in a tone of casual conversation, “So. You’re immortal?”

Jean Etienne turned toward her and gave her a grin that was blinding in its beauty. “That has yet to be established. What we do know is that I’ve been around for longer than the oldest history you’ve studied. And I’m still here.”

Falcon grabbed Monq by the shoulder of his lab coat. “He’s flirting with her!” he hissed. Whereas Falcon had always cherished Genevieve’s French accent and thought it was unbelievably sexy and adorable, he found the same accent supremely irritating on Jean Etienne.

“It would… seem that way,” said Monq.

Falcon narrowed his eyes. “And what’s the reason why I can’t talk to her now?”

Monq gave Falcon’s hand holding a fistful of clothing a pointed look. “I know you care about her, but there are bigger things at stake. If you want to stay and observe, you can so long as you do not interfere in any way. Though I think it would be best for you to take a break. Go upstairs. Have dinner with your friends. Have a drink with your friends. Shoot some pool. Play video games. Do something besides sitting here in this hallway staring at the vampire. You can see that she’s not in danger. So there’s no reason for you to feel like you need to be here every second.”

Falcon looked at Genevieve carrying on a conversation with Jean Etienne. “She’s not in danger? How do you know that?”

Monq softened his tone and expression. “We may not have gotten the result we were hoping for. But it’s not all bad either. A few hours ago she was lost, with no hope of ever being Mademoiselle Bonheur again. Now she is carrying on a conversation as easily as if she was hosting a dinner party. Well, except for the anxiety over what’s going to happen next.”

Falcon stared at Monq for a few beats before saying, “Okay. At least tell me this. What are the markers you’re looking for that would give me yes for an answer?”

“Regarding talking to the subject?”

“Don’t call her that.”

Monq pursed his lips. “Twenty-four hours without incident.”

Falcon looked at his watch. “All right. I’m going to go to my place. Check email. Take a jacuzzi. Have dinner with my team. Then I’ll be back. You’d better not let Blood Pudding get out of line with her.”

“Blood Pudding? Oh. I get it. Very funny. No. No one will be ‘getting out of line’ with her.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

Day Four - Psych Eval

“You called?” Elora knocked on the door to Monq’s office.

“Yes, my dear. Come in and sit down. Oh my,” he said, looking at the impossibility of her protruding abdomen. “What can I get you?”

“Hot chocolate.”

“Of course. I knew that.”

“Should have,” she said as she more or less fell backward into the burgundy velvet club chair. “I hope you have a forklift down here because it might take that to get me back up.”

Monq ordered cocoa for Elora, tea for himself, and put the house phone back in its cradle. “Don’t worry. We’ll think of something.” He sat down in the matching chair facing hers next to the fire video.

“If this is about you wanting to deliver the babies, I already told you no five times and no means no, doc.”

“It’s not about that. Although…”

“No.”

He sighed. “It’s about Glen. Have you seen him since he’s been back?”

“I had to hear it from my husband. Strange he hasn’t called. We used to be close.”

“That’s what I thought. And speaking of close, wasn’t he dating the Storm girl at one time?”

“Yes.” She looked Monq over. “Not enough to do down here? You need some juicy gossip? ‘Cause there’s lots that’s juicier and more recent.”

Before he’d thought about what was coming out of his mouth, he’d said, “Like what?” Elora parted her lips to answer, but he put his hand up to stop her. “Never mind. Stop confusing the issue.”

“How can I be confusing the issue? I don’t know what the issue is.”

“Glen.”

“What about him?”

“Just like you said. You don’t find it noteworthy that he didn’t let you know he’s back at Jefferson Unit?”

Elora grew serious and sat up as straight as twins pressing into thighs would allow. “Is something wrong with Glen?”

“Elora, this is not gossip. Juicy or otherwise.”

“I understand. What’s wrong?”

“He’s very different from the boy you knew and not in a good way. We need to get to the bottom of what’s happened. That’s why I’m asking about the Storm girl.”

“Rosie.”

“Yes. Rosie.”

“You know she was named Elora Rose, after a grandmother and me.”

“I might have heard that. I don’t remember. Anyway I’d like to have a conversation with her.”

“What about? Listen, Monq, you’d better go easy on her. I don’t know all the details about what she’s been through, but she’s changed, too. She’s… I don’t know… sad. Or sadder.”

“I’m a professional, Mrs. Hawking.”

She narrowed her eyes. “That’s no way to get a favor. It’s Lady Laiken. Not Mrs. Hawking. And you know it!”

Monq waved his hand dismissively as he always did when the subject of her name arose. “Could you arrange a meeting? Ask her to have breakfast with me tomorrow morning?”

“I’ll ask, but I’m not going to pressure her.”

“Of course not. Just tell her that her insights might be helpful.”

“She’s out on the Courtpark throwing frisbee for my dog right now. Come help me up.”

“Your cocoa isn’t here yet.”

“Some other time. Help me out of this chair.”

Monq walked to the door and called two assistants. “Help the lady out of the chair, would you please?”

In the end, Elora pretty much got herself up. It seemed her weight was beyond the capacity of research assistants.

She got off the elevator at the Hub and began to waddle toward the Solarium. She hadn’t seen Glen in over five years and he’d changed a lot physically, but she still knew that the man facing away, looking out onto the Courtpark through the Solarium windows was her former dogwalker. He was watching Rosie and Blackie out on the field. He felt Elora’s approach even before she came into his peripheral vision, but didn’t react visibly.

“I remember when you used to be the one throwing frisbee for Blackie.”

Glen simply sighed. He didn’t turn to face her, but glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “So. Got more on the way?”

Elora’s hand automatically went to her protruding belly. “What makes you think that? Oh, this? Had a burrito for lunch. This is just gas.” Glen’s mouth turned up. “Ha! Got you to smile.” Her gaze wandered back to the field. “You should go say hello to Blackie. He’d love it.”

Glen turned away. “Some other time. Good to see you, Lady Laiken.”

“Same here, Sir Catch,” she said as he kept walking.

Glen felt bad about giving Elora the brush off. She’d always been wonderful to him. She was the one who took him along to the Edinburgh unit where he’d had the time of his life discussing everything from dimensional ladder theory to the most effective way to move ghosts along on their journey. Not to mention fae girls.

The problem was that he knew Elora well enough to know that, if he encouraged interaction, it would only be a short time before she’d start asking questions he didn’t want to answer. Or couldn’t answer. Questions like, what’s wrong with you?

He’d changed and didn’t want the Lady Laiken, whom he had admired on so many levels, to know that it wasn’t for the better. Not that she didn’t already know that, given the way he was behaving.

Rosie had changed, too. He could tell, even from a distance, that she moved differently. He wondered what she’d been doing for the past five years and hated himself for wondering. It was a moot point. Because he never intended to ask or to stand around listening while somebody told him.

Monq made a point of checking on Genevieve and Jean Etienne every hour or so. He didn’t announce his arrival. Just observed and quietly eavesdropped on the conversation for a few minutes at a time.

“So you never sleep?” She was asking.

“Not for the past few hundred years. Young ones sleep. I don’t know why.”

“You can procreate.”

“Oh yes. Happily.”

“So vampire childbirth isn’t painful?”

He cocked his head. “I don’t know. I suppose it could be. I wasn’t thinking in those terms.”

“Of course not. Like most men you were only thinking in terms of the pleasurable friction that precedes the procreation.”

“Guilty.” Once again he gave her the smile that Monq hadn’t known Jean Etienne possessed.

Monq had never seen the immortal vampire look anything other than pissed. Perpetually pissed in perpetuity. When he chuckled at that thought, Genevieve and Jean Etienne looked up. “How’s it going?”

“All is well,” said Jean Etienne.

“Need anything?”

Jean Etienne looked at Genevieve. “Do you need anything?”

“The key code?” she asked.

Jean Etienne said, “We’ll let you know.”

“When you said the other, ah, experiments didn’t tolerate your blood, what happened to them?”

“They became supermanic.”

She took in a deep breath. “So. Is that what we’re waiting for? To see if I go nuts?”

“Partly.”

“What’s the other part?”

“We need to know if the results we’re seeing will last and, if so, what you may need in the way of,” he paused, “maintenance.”

“Blood.”

“Yes.”

“What’s the best case scenario?”

“I’m not a writer of fiction.”

“That’s a ridiculous answer, unworthy of someone who is sooooooo old.”

His lips twitched. “The best case scenario is that the vampire virus has been completely cleansed from your system.”

“In which case I will be human again. I can go back to work and never set foot outside Jefferson Unit again as long as I live.”

Jean Etienne frowned. “That would not be a best case. That would be a tragedy. It is a very big world and humans have precious little time in which to experience it.”

“Blah. Blah Blah.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means immortals shouldn’t spout off about what humans should and shouldn’t do or feel.”

“Very well.”

“Unbelievably, you are pouting.” She laughed out loud. “I’m the one whose entire life is in crisis here, in the balance really, and you’re going to pout because I said it’s not your place to lecture on what I should do with my remaining time if I became a real girl again.”

“Let’s change the subject.”

“Go ahead.”

“You’re being difficult.”

“Better than being an ass’s rump.”

“You’re taking your predicament out on me. I’m not the one who bit you, mademoiselle.”

Jean Etienne was sorry he’d said it as soon as tears sprang to Genevieve’s eyes.

“I know you’re not. Sorry. I’m not in a good place.”

“Of course you’re not. How could you be? I’m an insensitive lout.”

“No. You’ve been kind to keep me company while we’re waiting to learn my fate. How long will that take, by the way?”

“We’re explorers. We have no idea what will or will not be next. We simply have to live through it one minute at a time.”

“You mean I simply have to live through it one minute at a time.”

“No. I meant we.” Genevieve looked at Jean Etienne with a mixture of surprise and gratitude. “I will see this through no matter what comes next. I will not leave you.” Jean Etienne looked away. He hadn’t thought through making such an open-ended commitment, wasn’t prepared for the ramifications, and was quite surprised at himself. It had just sort of popped out, but once it was spoken, he couldn’t say he regretted it. The girl was a multilayered puzzle of contradictions, need, orneriness, and delight.

Genevieve swiped at the tears on her face, hating that she looked so vulnerable. “Thank you,” she said.

Her eyes hadn’t returned to the warm brown they had been before the infection, but they were no longer the pale ice blue of virus-carriers. For the time being, their color had resolved to an exotic caramel. Jean Etienne could also see that properties in his blood had caused a metamorphosis in her appearance. She was gradually beginning to exhibit the flawlessness of immortals. Her skin was taking on the poreless and even look of youthful perfection. Her flesh and muscle were taking on tone similar to that of a twenty-year-old.

Jean Etienne would say that, by looks alone, it would be hard to tell that she was not an immortal.

Falcon returned to the hospital bed in the hallway late that night. He’d thought about sleeping in his own bed, but the pull to keep watch over Genevieve was stronger. He was sitting there, watching Genevieve and Jean Etienne when Wakey showed up.

Wakey had been coming three or four times a day to relieve Falcon. Sometimes he’d stayed to talk about everything and nothing. Just to keep his friend company.

On that occasion, neither said anything. They sat without speaking, listening to the conversation taking place in the cell.

“Do you have family?” she asked Jean Etienne.

“No. I’m one of the originals.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“It means I didn’t come into the world the usual way. I was created as I am.”

“Oh.” Her mind groped about for what she might say in response to that and came up with nothing. “But you said you make families. Do you have a wife?”

He smiled. “We do make families, but I’ve not found someone who makes me feel inclined to be half of a pair.”

She nodded. “Me either.”

Falcon’s mouth pressed together as he thought about the fact that it was hard to find the right someone when you wouldn’t even accept a dinner invitation.

“Do you have a, what do you call it?”

“Boyfriend?”

“Yes. That’s it. Do you have a boyfriend?”

“No. I did once. It didn’t work out. So I decided to concentrate on my career here.”

“And you were good at what you do?”

She shrugged. “I like to think so. They promoted me when my boss retired. I didn’t really have a chance to implement all the changes I’d planned.” She said it sadly.

“If you weren’t going to spend your life working for The Order, and you could do anything, what would you want to do?”

“If I could do anything?”

“Yes.”

“I’d like to be a singer in a cabaret.”

“Can you sing?”

“No,” she shook her head and laughed.

He laughed with her.

Wakey whispered to Falcon. “I’m going. Get some sleep.”

Falcon nodded.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Day Five - Psych Eval

Elora ushered Rosie to Monq’s corner table in the Mess at nine-thirty. Things were quiet at that time. Students and instructors had already eaten and begun their day. Knights weren’t up yet.

“Thelonius Monq, this is Elora Rose Storm.” Rosie beamed at Elora as she always did when Elora insisted on announcing her birth certificate name. “Otherwise known as Rosie.”

Monq had risen to greet them. “How do you do?” he asked Rosie who took his hand. “Please join us,” he said to Elora.

“Okay,” she answered.

Monq and Rosie sat facing each other with Elora in between.

“I understand you’re recently back from travels,” he said to Rosie.

“Yes. That’s true. Not much has changed,” she said in an effort at pleasantries.

“Well, yes and no. The surroundings don’t change much, but people do. That’s actually why I asked you to breakfast.”

“Oh?”

The waitperson appeared. “What can I get you?” he asked cheerfully.

“Bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwich on wheat toast,” said Rosie. “And a fruit cup, extra red grapes.”

“Plain bagel with peanut butter on the side and a cranberry juice,” said Elora.

“Ooh,” said Rosie. “I’ll have cranberry juice, too.”

The man looked at Monq. “I’ll have that skillet thing you make, but substitute broccoli for the asparagus spear tips, use chopped chicken breast instead of beef, and bearnaise instead of Hollandaise. Also, cut the potatoes in half and poach the eggs for two and a half minutes. I’ll have that twenty-five percent Kona blend coffee with the Bailey’s hazelnut creamer and two pieces of rye toasted on one side only. Butter on the side. Not on the toast.”

The server took it in stride as if that was not an unusual breakfast request for Monq. “Juice?” he asked.

“Yes. Thank you, Ronald. Grapefruit if you please. But put four tablespoons of sugar in it and shake well.”

“Of course.”

Rosie gave Elora a what-have-you-gotten-me-into look, which inspired a chuckle.

“Something funny?” Monq asked. “What did I miss?”

“If you don’t think your breakfast order was funny, you’re missing a check in with reality.”

“Over the top?” he asked.

“Completely,” she said.

“I’ll work on it.”

“Or just save yourself the embarrassment of being eccentric. Stay in and make your own.”

“First, I’m not embarrassed and, second, why would I do for myself what I can have others do for me?” He turned to Rosie. “So, may I call you Rosie?”

“Yes,” she answered.

“Good. Call me Monq.”

“All right.”

After an acceptable period of small talk, Monq dived into the reason for the breakfast meeting. “I understand you’ve been away for about five years.”

“That’s right.”

“Coincidentally, Glendennon Catch has been away for about that same length of time. I understand you know him?”

Rosie took on a posture that looked slightly guarded. “Knew him,” she clarified.

“So you’re not still friends.”

“It seems that would be safe to say.”

“I see. That’s a shame. Just between the two of us,” he looked at Elora, “or I guess I should say the three of us, I wonder if you could help me with some background on Sir Catch.”

“Why?”

“Well, this is a sensitive and tricky business. I have ethical and professional boundaries in play here.”

“Is there something wrong with Glen?” Rosie asked, looking more than casually concerned.

“Nothing serious. I believe he may be experiencing a form of post traumatic stress.”

“That doesn’t sound not serious to me.”

“I believe a few minor adjustments will make all the difference. Right now he seems to be closed off to the people who care about him. At the same time his anger is volatile, an outward expression of an inner conflict.”

Rosie scowled. “What happened?”

“Getting to the bottom of that. Slowly. You can help,” he looked between the two of them, “both of you, by giving me some insight as to who he was before he became active duty.”

“Just ask what you want to know,” said Elora.

“You knew him first, right?” Monq asked her.

Elora looked at Rosie. “Yes. I knew him for some time before Rosie was born.”

“Give me something I wouldn’t find in his file. Fill in between the lines, if you will.”

“My impressions?” Elora asked.

“Exactly,” Monq replied, pleased that she seemed to have caught the subtext of what he was after.

“Well, he was one of my trainees. He hit it off with my dog and began dogsitting for me. When Ram and I were sent to Edinburgh on temporary assignment, right after the wedding, I took Glen with me to take care of Blackie when I couldn’t be around.” She chuckled. “Well, he ended up making quite an impression at Headquarters. Stood all those dusty old professor-types on their ears.” She looked at Monq. “He’s one smart kid, you know. And by that I don’t mean smart, I mean off-the-charts brilliant.”

Monq nodded. “Go on.”

“Well, he dated a lot, but no one in The Order. First, he was too young and, second, as you know, work place entanglements are discouraged.” Rosie snorted and looked at Elora’s belly pointedly. Elora made little clockwise circular movements on her abdomen and smiled before she continued. “Not that the personnel wouldn’t have jumped at the chance. I heard a girl in archives, who didn’t know I was in the stacks, refer to him as a walking phallic symbol.”

Monq giggled. “I can see that.” Elora and Rosie both stopped and gave him a speculative look. “What? I’m not blind!”

“Hmmm. Well, I hated hearing him objectified in that way. I felt offended on his behalf.”

“Because women are always objectifying your husband?” Rosie asked.

“They are?” Elora narrowed her eyes. “I’m taking names. Make a list.”

“Hold on,” said Monq. “If there’s any psychoanalysis to be done at this breakfast, I’ll be the one doing it.”

Elora sighed. “Where’s breakfast? I’m hungry.”

“Eating for three? I see him coming this way now,” said Monq.

They waited until after their orders had been set in front of them and Ronald had left.

“I’ll tell you this though,” Elora began. “Glen’s mind was full of possibilites about what he might do with his life. He had so many talents… He could have done anything.” She sighed while she spread peanut butter on her bagel. “And everything excited him. It was a joy to watch. But something happened right around the time Helm was born. I’m not sure what it was, but all of a sudden Glen had decided he was going to be a knight and that was that. There was no more talk about options after that.”

“Interesting,” Monq said while he made sure the bite of skillet breakfast he was about to eat had sufficient bernaise sauce on it.

“What about you, Rosie?”

Rosie stopped eating like she’d been caught redhanded doing something wrong. “What about me?”

“What can you tell me about Sir Catch?”

She set her fork down and sat up. “Look. I’m not sure I feel comfortable giving Glen’s shrink insights into my relationship with him. It feels like it might be a betrayal.”

“Might you tell me something incriminating?”

“Incriminating? Well, no. Not incriminating per se. But personal.”

“Loyalty is one of humanity’s loftiest expressions of higher self, my dear. Admirable and commendable. Let me assure you that my motives are born entirely in the interest of restoring him to the person that people once described as affable and easygoing as well as sharp and quick. He lost his way. The Sovereign has asked me to help him find it. He’s back here at Jefferson Unit because concerns were logged by the last three Sovereigns at his duty assignments.”

Monq observed the line that formed between Rosie’s brows and the fact that she might have paled a little. “Concerns?” she said. “That’s impossible. Glen is the most solid, grounded person in the world.”

Monq raised his chin as he studied Rosie. “By all reports, he was. At one time.”

“Oh gods,” she said.

“It seems to me that you still care about him. I’m happy to see that he still has people on his side. He’s probably going to need that.”

Rosie looked at the napkin in her lap for a minute or so before making a decision to share.

“My parents say that ‘Glen’ was the first word I spoke.” She looked up and smiled just a little. “I have a memory of wiggling, trying to get my mother to put me down so that I could go to Glen. I think I idolized him a little bit and loved him a lot. I don’t know why. It was like I was born thinking he was the best thing that ever happened to two-legged creatures. I grew up really fast. Did you know that?”

Monq glanced at Elora. “I’ve heard that.”

“Well, after I hit puberty, the fact that Glen was dating girls was driving me insane. It was confusing to me because I was sure I was supposed to be the girl and he just thought of me as the kid he was babysitting. Eventually my mother and her friend,” her eyes flicked to Elora, “invited the two of us to have dinner with them. They’d cooked up a sort of matchmaking thing.

“Well, it worked. That night Glen and I were officially dating. I think I was about a year old and telling him we were exclusive or he was in big trouble. Once he gave in to the idea of a romantic relationship with me, he was okay with the exclusivity. As it turned out, he liked me a lot, too.”

Monq and Elora watched a deep blush creep up Rosie’s neck and color her face. She didn’t share what she was thinking, but they could guess it was outside the parameters of what Monq needed to know.

“I was so proud of him when he became temporary Sovereign. Then I panicked when he was inducted. I told him that he wouldn’t accept an active duty position, as a knight, if he loved me. I told him he couldn’t have that particular job and me and I gave him a deadline to choose.”

Elora frowned. “I never knew this. Litha didn’t tell me.”

Rosie raised her head. “She was probably ashamed of me. She should have been. I wasn’t expressing love for Glen. What I was expressing was my own selfishness. I was way too inexperienced with life to understand love.”

Monq and Elora remained quiet when she stopped talking, absorbing the implications of what had been said. At length Monq said, “So he didn’t acquiesce and you…”

“Disappeared. Just like I said I would. I didn’t even tell my parents where I’d gone.” Elora looked away. “Now I understand that it was cruel to do that to him. It’s the biggest regret of my life. So far.”

“Thank you, Rosie,” Monq said. “This has been more helpful than you know.” Monq looked at the face of his phone. “I’m needed in the lab. Rosie, I have another couple of questions. Could we pick this up again tonight over dinner? I need to stay close by the experiment underway, but if you would be so kind as to join me in my offices?”

Rosie glanced at Elora. “Uh, sure. I guess.”

“Excellent. Seven o’clock.”

Monq had invented a reason to leave breakfast. There had been no message, urgent or otherwise. But something about Glen’s case had been niggling at him and he knew what it was. When he reached his office, he closed the door and connected to the Black Swan archives, recently made available via a satellite that The Order owned and controlled.

He typed in the search term ‘floaters’ and began reading. By lunch time he was satisfied that he’d found a crack in Black Swan procedure that, in the case of Glendennon Catch, had become more like a black hole than a crack.

Around three, Monq strolled into Rev’s office without an appointment. The admin began to rise, but Monq stayed him with a raised hand. “Don’t bother to get up. I’ll see myself in.”

“But, sir…”

Rev’s attention jerked toward the door when it opened without a knock because, first, that wasn’t acceptable, second, everyone knew that, and, third, it simply didn’t happen because of the first two things.

“Sovereign,” said Monq, “we need to talk.” Monq closed the door behind him and sat down in the chair in front of the massive desk that was as imposing as the personality who sat behind it.

Rev looked at his screen. “I don’t see you listed on my schedule.”

“I didn’t see Glendennon Catch listed on my schedule when you insisted I take that on.”

“Is this about Catch?” Rev scowled.

“The immediacy is certainly about Sir Catch although there is a larger issue to be taken under serious consideration.”

Rev looked at his watch. “Five minutes.”

“That will do for a start. What do you know about floaters?”

“I don’t have time for games.”

“All right. I assume you know that they’re temps who fill team vacancies and are then reassigned to do the same elsewhere when the vacancy is filled.”

“Four minutes,” said Rev.

“I read Sol’s file today.”

“Sol’s file?”

Monq nodded. “Well. The part of his service that was spent as an active duty knight. He was assigned a partner right out of training, Miles Copper. Spent eight years with that same partner. Both survived. Copper retired to a chicken ranch, if I recall. Wanted to raise a family in Nevada. Sol became a career Swan.”

“Point?”

“Knights with permanent partners form deep bonds with each other. They rely on each other for backup, of course. But experiencing near-constant combat stress, they rely on each other for companionship and emotional support as well. They know they can count on each other and many report that they wouldn’t hesitate to die for their partners.”

“You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know.”

“What if, instead of having one partner for eight years, Sol had been assigned to a part of the world where he’d never been, to be temporary partner to a knight who wasn’t completely over the loss of his own partner and was resentful toward Sol for taking the place of the departed. What if Sol never stayed in any one place long enough to make real friends, form real attachments, or even feel like he could count on his teammates.”

Monq had Rev’s complete attention and he was beginning to look disturbed by what he was hearing.

“Did you know that the longest any one knight has ever served as a floater, before Glen, is two years?” Rev shook his head. “Well, it’s a fact. That’s as long as they can take it. You know how long Glen lasted?”

Rev cleared his throat. “Five years.”

“That’s right. From what I gather, it’s indicative of a dedication to The Order and a personal strength of will that is extraordinary, even for a knight. He deserves to be decorated for that service, which has left him so broken psychologically. It seems his own strength of character has been his undoing. Other knights quit before they were drawn into a psychological quagmire that sucked them under.”

He definitely had Rev’s full attention. “Furthermore, The Order is going to have to find another way to handle temporary vacancies. We’re destroying good knights. Stress without a shared bond and the belief that you’re not in it alone creates too much strain on the personality, like a rubber band pulled until it breaks.”

“I didn’t know.”

“Now you do.”

Rev sat back and sighed. “What do you need from me?”

“For starters, make sure that when, if, I can put the kid back together again, he gets a permanent job in a place where there are people who care about him.”

Rev sucked in a big breath and nodded. “Okay.”

“And make sure this doesn’t happen to any more knights. They’re not disposable.”

Monq got up and left without another word leaving Rev to mourn the loss of potential and think about the knights who could have been utilized so much better if they’d been paying more attention.

Rosie had agreed to meet her mother for tea. Litha was working in Edinburgh that day, but it was less trouble for Rosie to travel from New Jersey to Scotia than it would be for most people to get in their cars and drive for five minutes. Because of the time difference, tea in Edinburgh was an hour after breakfast at Jefferson Unit. Rosie wasn’t especially hungry, but she couldn’t turn down half a scone with clotted cream.

Litha had walked down to the Balmoral Hotel and was waiting in the lobby. There was really nothing more that she wanted in the world than time with her daughter. So when she saw Rosie outside the front door, she beamed like it was Yule morning.

The doorman had jumped and given up a little squeak when she suddenly appeared next to him. “Sorry,” he said. “I do no’ know why, but I did no’ see you there.”

She smiled politely. “Snuck up on you.”

“Aye. Ye did,” he said as he opened the door for her with an embarrassed smile.

Rosie put on her best face for Litha. She crossed the rich carpet to receive a big hug and bigger kiss on the cheek complete with an, “Mmmmmmwhah.” There’s nothing in the universe more satisfying than maternal adoration.

After they’d been seated in high back chairs in the Palm Court, Litha said, “I’m conflicted. It’s so wonderful to have you close after so long apart. Your father is beyond thrilled to have you home again, but it gives me no pleasure to see you sad.”

Rosie smiled brightly. “What makes you think I’m sad?”

“It’s a good act and I give you points for effort, but I’m your mother.”

“What does that mean?”

“You’ll see. Someday.”

“Well, that’s not helping communication today.”

“This is the important thing. What would make you happy, my darling? No. Wait. Let me rephrase that question. If you could have anything from life, what would it be?”

“I know I’ve been gone too long if our conversation has been reduced to party games.”

“It’s no game. It’s a legitimate question and one that everyone alive should be asking themselves on a regular basis.”

“What if I said I wanted to play professional football and be a defensive lineman?”

Litha gave that laugh that Rosie loved, the one that started deep in her mother’s chest and sounded like her whole body was committed to the act. “You don’t want to play football. Although, if you did, I’d be very worried for players on the opposing team.”

Rosie couldn’t help but smile. “Well, you’re right. I don’t.” The waiter poured tea. “Want to bang heads with monsters whose necks are thicker than their waists, that is.”

All the training in the universe couldn’t have kept the waiter’s eyes from flicking toward Rosie after that statement. Rosie noticed, even though it was just a millisecond and said, “Care to join us?”

“Rosie!”

“Sorry, miss,” said the waiter as his face turned scarlet.

When he was gone, Litha said, “Rosie, what has gotten into you? You weren’t raised to be rude.”

“No. But when I worked at a, um, tavern, I learned that wait staff are supposed to be deaf and blind to conversation when it’s not directed at them.”

“Not to take anything away from that policy, but that’s a bad excuse.”

“You’re right. Do you want me to apologize to him?”

“Do what you think is right.”

“Okay.”

“So back to my question. What you’d want from life if it could be anything?”

“You’re not going to let that go, huh?”

“Not a chance.”

Rosie looked around at the lavish setting steeped in the history of people of means. “I like working. I’m not saying it’s not nice to take Blackie out for a frisbee toss or have tea with you, but I need to feel useful.”

Litha smiled. “I was hoping you might say something like that. We might be able to help each other out.”

Rosie looked skeptical. “This sounds like one of those schemes that you cook up with Auntie Elora.”

Litha shook her head. “Nope. This is all me. See, here’s the thing. I’ve been wanting to take a break from tracking.” Rosie realized her mother suddenly looked nervous. “We, uh, your dad and I want to have more children.”

Rosie laughed out loud. “Well, I couldn’t be that awful, if you’re deliberately going for it again.”

Litha’s look changed to serious. “You’re the furthest thing from awful, Rosie. You’re the best thing that ever happened to us.” Rosie felt an unbidden pressure behind her eyes and knew that she had that reddish pre-tears look. “If we were lucky enough to have another child just like you, we’d be over the moon.”

“Mom.” Rosie’s breath hitched. She wasn’t accustomed to being told she was loved and she really wasn’t accustomed to being told she was cherished.

“The only thing stopping me is that I provide a service to The Order that is uniquely valuable. There’s only one other person I know of who can do what I can do.”

“You want me to track for The Order.”

“It’s not bad work, you know. Not usually. I’ve had some interesting times.” She chuckled. “There was this ghost in Venice who didn’t want to be tracked…”

The waiter arrived with a choice of tea treats. Rosie looked up into his face and said, “Please forgive me if I made you uncomfortable earlier. I’ve been spending time with rough company.”

The waiter looked first shocked, then embarrassed. “Not at all, miss.”

“So what do you think?” said Litha.

“I wouldn’t be taking over for you permanently, right? Just filling in for a while?”

“Absolutely! Come down to Headquarters with me. There’s something I want to show you.”

Litha didn’t give Rosie a choice about walking arm in arm. As they strolled, she pointed out the museum and told Rosie about the Hall of Heroes, that Uncle Ram had a portrait hanging there, and that she’d always thought it was a travesty that there wasn’t also one of Storm, because no one deserved it more.

Litha took Rosie down to her private room and told her the history of the artefacts. Rosie was immediately drawn to the dragon and to her mother’s scrying mirror.

“Can I touch?” she asked.

“Of course. Only you,” said Litha. “The thing is, there are times when I need this elaborate paraphernalia to do the job. But I suspect you won’t.” Litha pulled the crystal pendant from its hiding place underneath her blouse. “I have a feeling this is all you’ll ever need. Your grandfather gave me this and, while you’re working as tracker, it’s yours. Don’t lose it. It means a lot to me.”

“If I couldn’t keep track of my mother’s prize possession, I wouldn’t be much of a tracker, would I?”

“True. Let’s go speak to Simon although I think bringing you on board will simply be a formality.” She stopped and looked at Rosie. “You were born here, you know. Right here in this building.”

Rosie laughed. “Yeah. I know, Mom.”

As Litha predicted, Simon was pleased to have Rosie fill in for her mother’s leave of absence.

“You were born here, you know,” he said, smiling at Rosie.

“Yes.” She nodded. “I’ve heard that.”

“Well, you may find the job comes with interesting situations. Your mother has had to get out her creative hat now and again.”

“She’ll be so good that you won’t want to see me come back,” Litha said.

“Well, I doubt that. You’ve become something of a legend.”

“That’s nice of you to say, Simon.”

“Just a simple truth. So, Rosie, when will you be starting?”

Rosie looked at Litha. “I guess that’s up to her. And Dad,” she snickered.

Litha tried to give Rosie a look of reproach, but couldn’t hide her smile. “I’ll make sure she’s familiar with policies and procedures, where there’s wiggle room and where there’s not.” Litha shrugged. “Then she’s on her own. It’s not the kind of thing you can apprentice for, especially not when you were born with more mastery than the master.”

“Well, then, welcome to Black Swan, Elora Rose Storm. We’ll want to issue you a new phone and I want to be sure you have my twenty-four hour number. Never know when you might need it.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you.”

“It’s we who are thanking you. Both of you. Who would have guessed there might be someone in the world who could stand in for Litha?”

Simon shook his head, but smiled, clearly pleased with the arrangement. Litha’s pride in her child was shining so bright it almost looked like there was a spotlight above her. Rosie, unaccustomed to so much concentrated adoration, felt a hint of shyness and ducked her head.

Glen arrived at Monq’s door at precisely seven. He didn’t bother to knock because he knew he was expected.

“Hey, doc. What’s for dinner?” Before Monq could answer Glen’s eyes had drifted to the table set up in front of the video fire. “Three people? Who else is…?”

There was a soft knock on the open door.

Glen turned to see Rosie standing there, looking just as uncertain as she was unbelievably beautiful. He pinned Monq with a look that should have caused him to explode into millions of tiny bits.

“You. Did. Not,” he said slowly and distinctly, each word dripping with outrage.

“I did,” Monq said casually as he rose from his chair. Looking at Rosie, he said, “Come in, my dear. We’re having sea bass with pasta primavera and Alfredo sauce.”

He gestured toward the table, but after Glen’s reaction Rosie didn’t exactly feel welcome and didn’t move from the doorway. Looking at Glen she said, “I saw you a few nights ago. In the Hub. You walked right by, but I guess you didn’t see me.”

His dark eyes flashed at her for less than a blink as he sneered. “I saw you.”

“Oh,” she said in a quiet voice. She searched his face as he looked away and couldn’t find anything that resembled the boy who’d loved her except for facial features. In addition to the physical changes, he had a hard edge that broadcasted bitterness.

Monq decided he’d better establish himself as an arbiter or things were going to deteriorate quickly. “I understand you two used to know each other.”

Glen smirked and looked away, shaking his head. “No. Not really. I thought I knew her. Turned out not.”

Rosie was just beginning to understand the depth of the hurt she’d delivered to her first love. She’d been too selfish, too immature, and too shortsighted to grasp the consequences of her rash behavior. Now that she’d come face to face with the results, it looked like it was far too late to do anything about it. The damage wasn’t just done and over. It had reinfected itself again and again and festered past the point of repair.

She stood there staring at Glen, wondering if an apology would help or make things worse. Looking at the way he was clenching his jaw, she decided things couldn’t get any worse.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

Glen’s gaze jerked up to her eyes. He could see she was sincere and, if anything, it made him hate her more. At least it made him angrier.

“Oh, good. Dinner is here,” Monq exclaimed cheerfully.

All the while dinner was being set out Glen and Rosie continued to look at each other, but nothing changed. He was resolute in his rage. She was genuine in her contrition, silently willing him to accept that.

When the waiter was gone, Monq persuaded them to sit down at the table set for three.

“I don’t know how you see this playing out, old man.” said Glen to Monq.

“There’s no reason to be disrespectful to Mr. Monq,” Rosie chastised.

“Dr. Monq,” Monq corrected.

Judging by Glen’s reaction, he didn’t appreciate being chastised about manners, especially by Rosie. “I don’t know how you see this playing out, Dr. Monq, but no good can come from it.”

By that time Rosie was beginning to feel a little less sorry. “Oh? And why is that?” she asked.

“Because, wunderkind, you can’t change the past with a couple of words like ‘sorry’.”

“I know that, Glen. But apologizing is a start.”

“Really?” He bit out the word. “A start toward what?”

“It’s a start toward forgiveness and maybe, eventually, being friends again.”

He startled both Monq and Rosie by laughing out loud. “FRIENDS!?! Friends don’t give each other ultimatums and then disappear. FOR YEARS!”

Rosie sighed. “You’re right. It was dumb. And thoughtless. And if I could take it back…”

“Well, you can’t.” Glen fumed as he shoved a huge forkful of pasta into his mouth knowing that Rosie would think his table manners were hiding in the same closet as his ability to be civil.

“Rosie, why don’t you tell us what you’ve been doing since you last saw Glen.”

“I’m not particularly interested in what she’s been doing,” Glen said, looking anywhere but at Rosie.

“Well,” she said to Monq, “I can tell you what he’s been doing. He’s been mastering the art of being an ass. You’ve changed, Glen.”

“I…” Monq started.

Glen cut him off. “I’ve changed? You know what your problem is, Elora Rose? You haven’t changed. You’re still the same self-involved brat who thinks all she needs to do is prance back in here… Oh, look at me, I’m practically royalty. Black Swan’s precious little princess is sorry she made a mess.”

“You’re making this harder than it needs to be,” she said quietly.

“Yeah? And who gets to decide that? You? You get to decide everything, don’t you?”

“I made a mistake, Glen. A big one. But what you’ve made is a gigantic fucking mess of yourself.”

“You don’t know anything about me, little girl.”

Rosie stood up so suddenly it knocked her chair over. She threw her napkin down and her own eyes sparked with anger. “I know you’re the one releasing the hogs of war.”

Glen sat back and crossed his arms, then gave her a smile that broke her and tugged at her heart strings at the same time. “That’s dogs of war,” he said with a smugness that made her want to smush his smarmy face.

“Forget what I said about being sorry. All I really want from you is to stay away from me.” As punctuation, on the way out of the room, she grabbed a pillow from Monq’s settee and threw it at Glen, who simply caught it in the air and laughed.

“Fine by me.”

“Loser. Do you even have any friends?” It as a parting shot that she couldn’t have known hit way too close to home. But she decided to add one last thing on her way out the door. “AND I DON’T PRANCE!”

Glen’s taunting laughter melted into a seething anger that had him breathing hard. “Bitch,” he fired back, but she was gone.

Monq said, “Well, that went better than I expected.”

Glen stood, glowering at Monq, then raised his dinner plate to shoulder height.

Monq managed to say, “Please! Not the fireplace again!”

Glen huffed. “How’s this?” He raised one bent leg and broke the plate over his own thigh.

As he stormed out of the room Monq said, “Dinner at seven tomorrow night. Don’t be late.”

Glen gave him the finger without turning around.

Monq sighed and looked at the broken plate and ruined food on the new carpet. He was thinking he was glad he’d opted for Alfredo sauce instead of marinara.

Falcon had no good reason to be relieved from duty. Genevieve’s condition was stable. Nothing had changed. So he’d been on patrol for two nights in a row.

When he returned after the second night, he showered, had something to eat and went straight to the lab. Monq was standing in the hallway talking to Jean Etienne. Genevieve was in the cell alone and appeared to be sleeping.

“Is she okay?” Falcon asked Monq.

“There’s been no change except that this is the first time she’s slept since taking Jean Etienne’s blood. Needing less sleep is apparently one of the side effects.”

“Where is this going?”

Monq looked troubled. “What do you mean?”

“I mean is she cured? Or is she going to have a shadow forever?” He looked at Jean Etienne when he said it.

“I’m not a shadow.”

“Then what are you?”

“I’m the host of the blood that is keeping the virus from destroying her. If you love her, why does this anger you?”

“Because you’re not just a blood donor. And I don’t like what I’m seeing.”

Jean Etienne caught the subtext. “Yes. I care about her.”

“Don’t you think you’re too old for her?” Falcon could have kicked himself for saying something so stupid. Of course Jean Etienne was too old for Genevieve. He was too old to date the Sphinx.

“What if she required regular doses of my blood to survive? What would you want for her?”

“Maybe she doesn’t want to live forever.”

“I couldn’t guarantee that she’ll live forever. We’re not really immortal. It’s just, what do you call it? Shorthand, for outliving record-keeping. We can be killed.” He smiled. “No. I will not tell you how. But until we are deliberately snuffed from existence, we age very slowly. At least as compared to you. If Genevieve needs to go with me to live, she will probably stop aging and appear as she does now until she dies.”

Falcon’s internal process was more a war than a conflict. It was bloody and horrific. He’d looked at his dilemma from all sides round and couldn’t find his way to a desirable outcome. Simply put, he didn’t want Genevieve to die, but he didn’t want her to go with Jean Etienne either. Seeing that no resolution would be reached at that moment standing in the hall, he jumped onto the hospital bed that was made fresh for him daily and pulled the blanket up to his chin.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The first thing Falcon did when he woke was to look at his watch. It was two o’clock in the afternoon.

He heard the familiar murmur of Jean Etienne talking to Genevieve. He turned his head on the pillow in time to see Genevieve’s fangs extend just before she latched onto Jean Etienne’s neck. His mind grappled with trying to make sense of seeing his Genevieve as a vampire. It was quiet enough that he could make out soft lapping and sucking sounds accompanied by moans of pleasure from beyond the cell barrier. Jean Etienne’s eyes had closed, but it was impossible to tell if that was from pleasure or pain.

Falcon watched silently without moving until he heard footsteps approaching. He moved his head enough to see that it was Monq.

“Enough,” Jean Etienne said firmly.

There was a little bit of a struggle before he pulled Genevieve away.

Jean Etienne glanced over at Monq and held up a finger to signal that he should wait a minute.

Falcon sat up and rubbed his eyes.

“How long have you been awake?” asked Monq.

“Long enough to see the… thing.”

Monq nodded just as Jean Etienne appeared in the hallway next to them.

“What happened?”

Jean Etienne shrugged. “She got hungry. I gave her what she needed. I think your experiment is done, at least for now.”

Monq looked at Genevieve. “What will happen to her?”

Jean Etienne looked at Monq like he was daft. “She’s coming with me, of course.”

“No,” said Falcon, shaking his head. “She’s not. You can leave some of your blood if that’s what she needs, but she’s not going anywhere with you.”

“Why not?” asked Jean Etienne. “I like her.”

“You like her,” Falcon repeated drily. “That’s not enough. Not nearly enough for someone like her.”

“Yes. It is.” Genevieve had risen and walked toward the barrier. She was standing just on the inside of the glass, looking out at Falcon.

“Gen, you don’t know him or what he’s really like.”

“I know enough, Sir Falcon. Gods know I didn’t ask for this, but this is what I’ve got and Jean Etienne, well, I like him, too.”

Falcon was shaking his head. “No.”

“I’m sorry this has caused you pain,” said Jean Etienne, “but the decision has been made. By the two of us.”

Falcon looked at Genevieve. “So you’re committing to spending forever with this creep?”

When she laughed, Falcon realized how much her looks had changed. Her hair seemed to have brighter highlights. Her skin was glowing. And the caramel-colored eyes would haunt him for the rest of his life. She almost looked like an airbrushed pinup version of herself. In short, she was eerily flawless.

“I guess ‘creep’ is in the eye that beholds. No?” She shook her head. “I’ve been flattered by the attention you’ve given me, the beautiful flowers. I was never right for you. But someone is. Someone will treasure your capacity to woo and desire you above all others.”

“Open the door,” he said to Monq.

Monq looked at Jean Etienne who shook his head. “She’s not ready for that. In time, she will gain control over her appetites, but at present, it would be foolish to risk putting a human within her reach.”

Monq looked at Falcon with pity. “Sorry. We can’t take the chance.”

“So you’re just going to let him walk out of here with her.”

“We’re not going to walk,” said Jean Etienne, “but that’s the general idea. The choice is hers and she’s made it.”

Falcon turned to Monq. “She’s going to be completely dependent on him for everything. Do you realize that? And she won’t even be able to ask for help if it goes south. She’s one of our own. You can’t let him just disappear with her.”

Falcon made points that caused Monq to look uncertain. He turned back to say that perhaps he should let headquarters make the final decsion, but it was a moot point. Without having made a whisper of a sound, the two vampire, old and new, had vanished.

Falcon whirled and threw his fist at the wall behind him with such force that Monq thought he heard a crack.

The young knight walked away without another word. He took the elevator to the fourth floor, got off and climbed the stairs the rest of the way to the rooftop whisterport. At that time of day there was no one around. Most of the knights would be having breakfast. It would be hours before whister maintenance and pilots showed up to check over the transport equipment and get it ready for the coming night.

Flying a whister is like driving a car with a stick shift. Learning takes some effort, but once the process is programmed into muscle memory, you don’t forget how to do it.

Kris checked the fuel tank, went through the checklist, turned the engine over and lifted off.

He had no jacket, no belongings, just sixty dollars in his pocket and the clothes he’d slept in. He hadn’t even brushed his teeth.

He wasn’t especially close with his family. They’d always been completely involved with the oldest son and, though they would never have admitted it, they thought of Falcon as the throw-away. He’d become a virtual son of Black Swan when he was fourteen. His friends were Black Swan. His history was Black Swan.

He had no idea where he would go or what he would do. He only knew that he had to get away.

He set the whister down on one of the Manhattan whisterports. He wasn’t worried about the whister being stolen. First, whister pilots were not a dime a dozen. Second, it was impossible to access the roof without a body scan that registered the unmistakable uniqueness of an individual.

He’d been careful to leave his phone on the pilot seat. Black Swan phones had extremely sophisticated tracking that couldn’t be disabled. They’d be able to quickly locate the whister. But not him.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Day Six - Psych Eval

Falcon’s departure wasn’t confirmed until after the whister maintenance tech came on to check the birds over and make sure they were ready for evening duty. Black Swan was meticulously careful about equipment. They spent a lot of time, money, and effort to train knights and they were determined not to lose any to accidents that could have been avoided with a little more attention to detail and one more review of the checklist.

The tech went straight to the rooftop office and dialed the Sovereign’s phone on the in-house system.

The admin on duty answered. “Sovereign’s office.”

“This is Wilson. Let me speak to the man,” he said with the roughness of a long-time cigar smoker.

“He doesn’t like to be disturbed when he’s working on the duty roster. I’ll ask him to return your call.”

“No. You won’t. You’ll put me through right now.”

The admin hesitated, but decided the more prudent choice would be erring on the side of caution.

“Just a minute,” he said.

“What is it?” Rev answered with a gruffness that matched Wilson’s, if not in gravelly tone, in attitude.

“We’re missing a whister.”

“I know I heard that wrong. Say again.”

“You heard right. Got two out of three topside.”

Rev didn’t bother to say goodbye. He hung up while he was rising from the chair. He knew it wasn’t going to take Sherlock Holmes to figure out who had absconded with a three million dollar machine. There were exactly four pilots in residence at Jefferson Unit.

Rev came to a standstill in his outer office before he even reached the hallway when he remembered. There were only four professional pilots. But there were two other people who could fly whisters. Falcon and Wakenmann.

He turned back to his admin. “Get Falcon on the phone.”

“Yes, sir.” After brief clicking of the keys, Rev heard through the speakers that Falcon’s phone went straight to voicemail.

“Try Wakenmann.”

“Yes, sir.” Again brief clicking, but Wakenmann picked up right away.

“Wakenmann,” was all he said.

“I’ll take it in my office,” Rev said.

The admin nodded. “Hold for the Sovereign.”

Rev closed the door, picked up his phone, and pushed the lit button. “When was the last time you saw Falcon?”

“This morning when we came in. Why?”

“Can you think of any reason why he would borrow a whister without permission?”

“Fuck!” said Wakey.

“Beg pardon?”

“Can I get back to you on that? Sir?”

“Quickly, Sir Wakenmann.”

“Definitely.”

Wakey ran down the hallway to the elevators. When he didn’t get one right away, he pushed through the door that led to the stairwell and descended to Monq’s sublevel taking the stairs three at a time. He was out of breath by the time he reached the cell where Genevieve had been held.

Except for Falcon’s freshly made hospital bed, the place was empty.

Wakey scrubbed his hand down his face then jogged back to Monq’s office. The door was open and Monq was in front of his computer.

“Seen Falcon?”

Monq looked up. “No. Why?”

“Do you know what AWOL means?”

Monq scowled. “Conjecture? Or fact?”

“How many people do you know around here who can fly a whister?”

“Dagnabbit! I should have anticipated something like this.”

“Yeah,” Wakey nodded. “You should have. I’m not a shrink and I saw it coming.”

Monq looked serious. “Does Rev know?”

Wakey raised his eyebrows. “Oh. Yeah.”

Monq got up. “I’ll take it from here.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’m not sure. I’ll figure it out on the way upstairs.”

“I’m coming.”

“If you want, but the Sovereign’s not likely to be in a good mood.”

“Think not?” Wakey said sarcastically.

When Monq wasn’t moving fast enough for Wakey, he said, “You need me to carry you?”

“I’m a scientist. Not a slave to treadmills.”

“Never would have guessed. About that last part, I mean.”

“So go on ahead of me if you’re in that big a hurry for a meeting with Farthing in head-rolling mode.”

Wakey rethought his perspective. “You’re right. Slow is good.”

“This is not slow!”

“You want to argue that right now?”

Monq paused before replying. “Not in the least.”

When Monq and Wakey walked into Rev’s office, he held up his hand.

“If you’re here to confirm that Falcon has left the premises without leave and with one of The Order’s extremely valuable mechanical assets, you’re too late. I’m already ahead of you. We tracked his phone to the TS whisterport. He apparently left it there, because it hasn’t moved in four hours.

“If, on the other hand, you’re here to give some insight as to why a decorated knight would not only go AWOL but steal a whister in the process, then I’m listening.” Wakenmann looked at Monq, who looked at Wakenmann. “Cat got both your tongues?”

Wakenmann cleared his throat. “Well, he’s been off his game.”

“Yes,” said Monq. “He’s been upset ever since Mademoiselle Bonheur was brought in.”

“I know that. Did something in particular happen to precipitate this rash response?”

“Ah, yes, well, she left with Jean Etienne.”

Rev’s eyebrows drew down so far that his eyes were almost obscured from view. “When did this happen?”

“Earlier today.”

“And no one thought to inform me?” When no answer was forthcoming, he added, “Are you under the impression that the post I occupy is a figurehead?”

“Of course not,” Monq said, while Wakenmann vigorously shook his head no. “I didn’t think the report required immediacy.”

“Seems you were wrong about that,” Rev said each word as if it was deliberated individually. Monq nodded. “What is his state of mind?”

Monq glanced at Wakenmann before saying, “He’s off his game.”

Rev’s lips pressed into a thin line. “And is that your professional psychiatric opinion, Dr. Monq?”

“Well, sort of. I’d say he’s somewhere between off-kilter and…”

“AWOL?”

“I suppose that’s as good a description as any.”

“Did you know that in the entire history of The Order this is only the third time a knight has given himself permission to take leave?”

“No. I didn’t know that,” said Monq.

“I’m mentioning it to illustrate the serious nature of this course of action.”

“I understand.”

“And that you should have anticipated that there could be a problem.” Monq nodded. “Do you agree?”

“Yes.”

Rev looked at Wakenmann. “This is the first time that Falcon has left without permission as a knight, but it’s not the first time he’s been away without leave, is it?”

Wakey’s brow knitted slightly as he tried to figure out where the Sovereign was going with that question. “No, sir.”

“The first time you were with him, weren’t you?”

“I was. Sir.”

“If I remember correctly, the two of you stowed away on a whister. Is that right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What was it that was so attractive that the two of you were willing to take such a risk?”

Wakenmann dropped his head for a moment, willing his superior to withdraw the question. When it seemed unlikely that wishful thinking would work, he forced himself to answer. “Strippers. Sir.” It’s not that he was ashamed… exactly. It’s just that it’s not the sort of thing one confesses to a Sovereign. Especially not when the Sovereign has a reputation for being on the side of tight laced.

Rev had to exercise considerable self-control to stop himself from smiling. To school his features into submission he gave himself a stern internal lecture about the fact that there was nothing amusing about Falcon abandoning his duty. When a knight like Falcon reacted so drastically, it meant that something was desperately wrong.

“Well, Sir Wakenmann. You’re his partner. Is it safe to assume you’re also his best friend?”

“That would be a safe assumption, sir.”

“Then you may have some insight as to where he would go? And why?”

“I can tell you why. I think. But no idea about where.”

“All right. Tell me what you think you know.”

Wakey’s gaze flicked to Monq.

“Kris didn’t just have a thing for the Operations Manager. Over the years it has become more like an obsession. We, ah, his friends, were always trying to get him to look around for somebody who would return his, um, interest. It’s not like he never attracted female attention. Just the opposite. Of the four of us, he’d be most likely to experience a…”

Wakenmann caught himself before he finished that sentence and seemed momentarily frozen, thinking how he could finish the thought without crossing a line into offensive territory.

“A what, Sir Wakenmann?”

Wakenmann blushed a bright red. “A, um, choice of feminine companionship without making much effort.”

“I assume that’s not what you were going to say. Dr. Monq and I both appreciate your being considerate of our sensibilities.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You were saying that Falcon was obsessed with Mademoiselle Bonheur?”

“Yeah. Not in a creepy stalker way. He just wouldn’t accept that she was never going to warm up to the idea of, ah, dating him. I mean, after six years it was pretty clear that she just wasn’t interested. At least it was clear to us. Obviously not to him. He seemed to think that one day he’d take her flowers and she’d say yes to dinner.”

“I see.”

“So she left with that vampire, I guess?” Wakenmann looked at Monq, who nodded. “It must have been hard to take. Really hard. I know he wasn’t himself when he took the whister. Please take the circumstances into consideration. To Kris, it’s, well, I think it’s probably worse than if she died.”

Rev steepled his fingers and pursed his lips. “You’re a good friend. I’m not angry, if that’s your worry. I’m concerned for your partner. I agree that he’s been thrown off balance. I also agree it’s more than likely temporary. Regardless, we’ve got to get him back. If he wants to leave the knighthood, there’s a process and, like everybody else, he needs to follow the rules.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Thank you for your insight, Sir Wakenmann.”

It was a dismissal, but Wakey wasn’t ready to be dismissed. “One question before I go, sir?”

“Can we, I mean K Team, have leave to go search for him?”

“Thank you for the offer. I’m sure you’re anxious about him. But no. I have someone in mind.”

Wakenmann looked beyond disappointed. It was clear he was itching to hit the streets to look for Falcon and that he hoped he’d be the one to find him. He scowled, but said, “Yes, sir.”

Wakenmann left and closed the door behind him.

“I’m putting Fennimore on K Team and sending Catch out with the tracker. When we get Falcon back, you will need to be prepared to evalutate whether or not his career is salvageable.”

Monq’s interest had definitely engaged. “You’re sending Glen out with Litha? That could be just what the doctor ordered. A change of scenery, something to do, but with a calming feminine presence - someone he knows and trusts.”

“Yes to all of that except Litha isn’t the tracker.”

“No?”

“She’s on leave. Her daughter is filling in for her for a while.”

Monq looked away before saying, “Oh boy.”

“What?”

After a brief internal struggle, Monq concluded that putting the two of them together on a mission would force a confrontation that gave every appearance of being unfinished business. It was a gamble. If it went well, it could be a better choice than years of therapy. If it went wrong, Monq would be in even hotter water with the Sovereign. He’d never thought of himself as a thrower of dice, but decided the potential for resolution between the two young people was worth the risk.

“Nothing.”

“Very well. Close the door on your way out.”

Monq left quietly. For once.

Glen reported to the Sovereign’s office as requested.

“Come in,” Rev said.

Glen stepped through the open doorway and stood in front of the Sovereign’s desk. “I got a call that you wanted to see me?”

“Indeed, Sir Catch. I need you on a run down. Falcon is away without leave. I need you to find him and bring him back here.”

Rev opened a drawer and withdrew a plastic zip baggy containing three sedative syringes dosed for a human, but sized to fit in a tranq pistol.

Glen reached out to accept the proferred bag, but did so with a frown.

“Is there a problem?” Rev asked.

“Speaking freely, sir?”

“Go for it.”

“Well, I’m not sure I understand why you’re suggesting that I hunt down a knight, sedate him, and drag him back here against his will. When did we become prisoners of The Order?”

“Dr. Monq and I have reason to be concerned for Falcon’s state of mind.”

“The last time I was in this office you were concerned about my state of mind. Does that mean I’m not free to leave if I want?”

Rev stopped multitasking and looked at Glen. “You’re not asking because you’re considering giving up your commission.”

“No, sir. It just doesn’t feel right. The idea of tranquing a knight, especially not one who practically became a legend when he was still a kid. A trainee.”

“That’s exactly why we’re sending you after him. We need to get him back here and help him heal. He’s valuable to us, but he’s also valued by us.” He looked Glen over thoughtfully before saying, “You up for this, Catch? If not, I can get somebody…”

“I am. When do I go?” He put the baggy in the inside pocket of his jacket.

“You’re going to be working with the new tracker. She’ll decide. Here she comes now.”

Rev motioned someone inside. Glen turned toward the door in time to see Rosie stepping inside, looking wary.

“This is your new tracker?” Glen laughed bitterly while he looked at the carpet and shook his head. “Of course she is.”

Rosie looked at Rev. “I’m working with him?”

Rev looked between Glen and Rosie. “Is there a problem?”

They turned to him and said, “No!” emphatically and in unison.

Glen walked toward the door without glancing at her again. “Let me know when you’re ready to go.”

It took Glen less than three minutes to get to Monq’s office.

“Did you arrange to get me stuck on a mission with Rosie?”

Monq chuckled, shaking his head. “No. I know it’s easy to mistake me for a god, but the arrangement was made entirely by fate.”

“What’s so funny?”

“Just curious how things work out sometimes. You’d almost think there really was an unseen intelligence at work trying to create opportunities for people to sort things through.”

“Since when do scientists believe in fate?”

“I’m a scientist AND magician. Not to mention philosopher, inventor, and physician. If pressed, you’d have to call me a renaissance man.”

“What I would have to call you would earn me a week in the stockade.”

Monq giggled. “You can say what you want in here without repercussions. Even if your comments about me take a derogatory turn. You should know that by now. Call me what you want.” Glen sat down and clammed up. “What? No schoolyard rejoinders?” Glen sat back, pulled his arms over his chest, and glowered. “Very well. Tell me about the assignment.”

Glen’s knee began to judder. He looked around the room for a few seconds like he was deciding whether to continue pouting. “You know Falcon’s AWOL?”

“Yes. I do know that.”

“The Sovereign wants me to go get him.” Glen stopped and looked at Monq. “Or, since you’re a magician, maybe you could just pull him out of a hat.”

Monq nodded. “I could, but where would be either the fun or the lesson in that for you? And how does that involve the Storm girl?”

“Will you stop calling her that!?!”

“All right. What would you like me to call her?”

“Rosie. That’s what everybody calls her.”

“Really? Why does everybody call her that?”

“It was a grandmother’s nickname. The one Deliverance was, um, in love with.”

Monq removed his glasses and began to clean them. “That’s deeply personal trivia. I wonder if she knows you remember such details.”

“Who knows what she knows? Who cares what she knows? What I need you to know is that her name is Rosie. Calling her ‘the Storm girl’ sounds stupid.”

“Very well. From here on Rosie is Rosie.” Glen wished his little victory didn’t feel so empty. “But before we leave this subject behind, why does it matter so much to you that I call her Rosie?”

Glen’s eyes glinted. “Oh no you don’t.”

“You’re right. I have work to do. We’ll talk about it at dinner tonight. Seven o’clock. Don’t be late.”

Monq turned back to his work. When he looked up again, Glen was gone.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Glen never made it to dinner. An hour after he left Monq’s office he got a text from Rosie.

ROSIE: Ready to go.

GLEN: Where do you want to meet?

“How about here?” she asked after she appeared right in front of him where he stood in the kitchen of his temporary quarters.

Out of reflex, he jumped. It had been a long time since he’d been in the practice of expecting Rosie’s surprise arrivals.

“Crap, Rosie. What are you doing? This is my private space.”

“What’s so private about it?”

“What’s so private is that I’m not expecting people to just pop in, literally, unannounced. I could have been undressed or engaged in something really private.”

She raised her chin and looked around. “It wouldn’t be anything I haven’t seen before.”

“The fact that you can defy physics doesn’t give you a right to go anywhere you please.”

“It does when I’m on a mission. I’m on company time right now.”

Glen sighed because he knew there was no point in arguing. “You have the handcuffs?”

Rosie laughed. “The purple fuzzy ones? I’d forgotten all about those. No. They belong to my mother. You got a rubber band?”

Glen shook his head. “Just rubbers.”

“Funny.”

“It wasn’t meant to be.” She made a face he didn’t recognize. “I can get a rubber band from Farnsworth.”

“Okay. While we’re at it, I need to get into Falcon’s place. Since I don’t know him, I need something of his.”

Glen snorted. “Like a dog? You need to sniff his shorts?”

“When did you get to be so vulgar?”

“Vulgar.” He shook his head. “That wasn’t even close. I’ve seen real vulgarity.”

“Good for you. I’m sure someone somewhere would like to hear about it.”

She took hold of his shirt sleeve and before he could register that he might be dizzy, they were standing in the Operations Office.

“You did not take me through the passes without securing me!” he said. “You could have lost me!”

“Please. I’m not going to lose you going from one floor at J.U. to another.”

Glen glared at her.

“Can I help you?” Farnsworth asked.

They both looked at her like they’d forgotten why they were there.

“You got handcuffs?” Glen asked.

Farnsworth cleared her throat. “Well, that’s not usually the sort of thing I arrange…”

“No. No. No,” Glen said. “They’re for making sure she doesn’t lose me. Losing people in the passes may run in her family and I don’t want to be the next victim. I have a feeling she wouldn’t search as hard for me.”

Rosie glowered.

“You know,” Farnsworth looked around, “after the aliens were here, I think we did requisition some in case we were ever put in the position of needing to secure prisoners. Just a minute.”

She picked up the in-house phone. “Do you have any handcuffs down there?” She paused. “Hysterical. No. I’m serious. I’m sending Sir Catch and Ms. Storm right now. Give them what they need.” She paused, said, “Uh-huh,” then hung up.

“You know where armory is, I assume?”

Glen gave her a look that said, “Duh,” as clearly as if it had been spoken. Since he had served as temporary Sovereign of J.U., he knew every inch of the facility. “Thank you, Ms. Far… I mean, Mrs. Farthing.”

She smiled prettily. “You’re welcome. You kids have fun.”

Glen gaped at her. “We’re not having fun. We’re on a mission.”

“There’s no reason why you can’t work and have fun.”

Glen could think of plenty of reasons why he couldn’t have fun with Rosie. He could scarcely tolerate the idea of working with her. But rather than go into that with Farnsworth, he simply nodded and walked away.

He made a point of going through the door first. He didn’t want to give Rosie even the tiniest courtesy or gesture of respect. As far as he was concerned she’d ruined his life and was continuing to do so.

When he stopped outside in the hall, she almost ran into him. He turned around and, while he looked down at her, she was trying to remember if he’d been that tall the last time they’d stood so close together.

“Why don’t you get the Sovereign’s admin to let you into Falcon’s apartment while I go get handcuffs?” Glen said.

“Okay,” she said. “Do you want to meet back here?”

“Here would be fine,” Glen said evenly through clenched teeth.

She let out a huff of breath and disappeared, shaking her head.

Fifteen minutes later Glen was standing in the same spot where he’d agreed to meet Rosie thinking that just a mere two days before he would have laughed at anyone who might have suggested that he would voluntarily allow himself to be handcuffed to her. If the circumstances that had brought about that turn of events was due to fate, as Monq had suggested, then fate had a wry sense of humor.

He jumped when Rosie appeared beside him, but refused to give her the satisfaction of saying anything about it.

“So. Where is he?” Glen asked.

“Still in New York.”

“Did you take something that belongs to him?”

She shook her head. “Didn’t need to. I got a sense of him.” She looked at the handcuffs he was holding. “So get dressed. Did you bring a barf bag?”

She was referring to the fact that he used to get nauseous in the passes.

“Just make it fast. And try to bring us out somewhere where we won’t be noticed either for poofing into existence or for being handcuffed together.”

She eyed him. “I will try to be careful. In the spirit of give and take, you need to lose the authoritative tone. I don’t work for you personally.”

“You don’t work for me personally. The thought of that is too preposterous for imagination. But I’m the knight in charge of this run down. You’re the tracker. We’re not a team. You’re assisting me.”

“Oh really?”

“We don’t have time to massage your ego, Missy.”

“Missy!?!”

Glen snapped a handcuff onto his left wrist and held it dangling in the air until she took it and attached the other half to her right wrist.

She grinned, knowing he was going to hate the next two minutes. “And away we go,” she said cheerfully.

They emerged from the passes at 6th and Houston. Glen looked green enough that Rosie felt too sorry for him to taunt him about it.

“You got the key?”

He unzipped a small outer pocket of his jacket, withdrew the key and handed it to her as he leaned back against a brick wall. While she unlocked the cuffs, he said, “We’re taking a whister back.”

“We’d have to do that anyway, Glen. Falcon is human. One hundred percent.”

“Yeah. Forgot.”

“Hey. There’s a Chipotle. If we don’t spot him right away, let’s get a chicken burrito.”

Glen barely suppressed gagging. “You didn’t eat before we left?”

“I guess I was focused on the job.”

“Speaking of that, why is Litha taking a leave?”

“I guess they want to give me siblings.”

Glen nodded. “Well, you’ve got some big shoes to fill. She’s got quite a reputation.”

“Trying to make me doubt myself on the first day of a new job? That’s not nice.”

“Just sayin’.”

“Whatever.” She pulled the crystal necklace from inside her shirt.

“What’s that?”

“Secret weapon.”

“Seriously.”

“Why do you question everything I say? It belonged to my mother. It was a gift from Deliverance.”

“Demon magic? You’re using demon magic!”

He was beginning to irritate her.

“Glen! How do you think my mother’s shoes got so big?”

“All right. Settle down.” He looked around. “Why are we here?”

“He’s around here somewhere.”

“Around here somewhere,” Glen repeated. “That’s a big help.”

“Look. I’m not supposed to do your job for you. I’m supposed to get you within striking distance. And I have.”

“What are you talking about? I can’t ‘strike’ what I can’t see.”

“You’ve never done this before, have you?”

“What does that have to do with it?”

“For that matter, why did they pick you for this job? Why aren’t you with a team?”

Glen pressed his lips together. “Let’s just get through this. Okay?”

Rosie studied Glen’s reaction and the fact that he’d tensed in response to a question that should have been innocent chit chat. Among Order personnel, that was.

“Okay. I think he’s over that way.”

“You can’t pinpoint where he is.”

“There could be as much as a five minute delay. Or so.”

“Five minutes? Great. You could put Falcon down anywhere in Manhattan and he could get far away in five minutes.”

Rosie shrugged. “Is what it is and that’s better than any alternative that The Order knows of.”

Glen crossed his arms in front of him and said, “Which way?”

“I think he’s over there,” she said.

Glen looked in the direction where she was pointing. It was the Film Forum, which was a mostly foreign film venue for Greenwich Village movie buffs.

“Deux Amis,” he said. “A French movie. Yeah. That’s it.”

His long legs started eating up the distance as he strode toward the theater.

She hurried to catch up. “What? No ‘good job, tracker’?”

Ignoring her, he kept walking past the row of bicycles chained up outside. It appeared that ticket sales were inside. He pulled open the door and let it close behind him, leaving Rosie standing on the sidewalk. She huffed, but followed him in. When she caught up, he was standing in front of the cashier saying, “Deux Amis. Deux s'il vous plaît.“

“Wow. That popcorn smells good,” she said. Glen acted as if she hadn’t spoken. When he stepped away with the tickets, Rosie caught him by the arm and said under her breath, “What if he’s in there, Glen? Are you going to tranq him in the middle of a movie theater? Then what? Carry him out and hope that either nobody notices or nobody cares enough to say anything?”

“I see your point.” Glen stood there juddering his fingers against his thigh for a minute. Then he started moving toward the entrance to the movie in progress.

“What are you going to do?” she said.

He stopped long enough to say, “I’m going to ask questions first and shoot later. I’m going to tell him that I’ve been sent to bring him back and ask him to come with us.”

Rosie cocked her head. “That’s so perfectly reasonable that I’m kind of impressed.”

Glen gave her a smile that was pure meanness. “The last thing I’m trying to do here is impress you, Elora Rose.”

“Okay. That’s it. That was the last time I’m going to try to be nice to you. That was it. Right there.”

“Good. Because you trying to be nice to me feels all kinds of false and sort of makes my skin crawl.”

“Not going to dignify that by responding.”

Another mean smile. “You just did,” he said as he let the door close in her face.

Rosie followed him inside. She glanced at the screen while waiting for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. Glen was standing in the back, scanning the theater. It wasn’t full by any means, which made it easier to spot Falcon sitting in the middle, about ten rows back from the front.

Glen pointed. Rosie nodded. She went down the left aisle. He went down the right. Falcon was the only moviegoer sitting in that row, which made it convenient for his pursuers. Rosie sat down on Falcon’s left side at the same time Glen sat down on his right.

Falcon’s gaze remained steadfastly locked on the screen as he continued eating popcorn as if they weren’t there. When Rosie couldn’t stand it a minute longer, she reached over and snatched a handful from his bucket.

Falcon looked at her. “Get your own,” was all he said before returning his attention to the show.

“Kris,” Glen said. “They sent me after you. You’re not in trouble, but if you need to take some leave time, there’s a process. Come back to J.U. so we can straighten this out. Then you can take a leave of absence if you want.”

Falcon shook his head no.

“Why not?” Glen asked.

“I don’t want to be there right now. I’ll go back when I’m ready.”

“Yeah. Well, here’s the thing. The Sovereign wants you back now. I don’t have to tell you what that means. It means you don’t have a choice. And neither do I.”

Falcon looked Glen in the face. “You ever ask yourself why you’re doing this job?”

Glen stared back for a couple of beats before answering honestly. “Every damn day.”

From the other side of Falcon Rosie heard that exchange and something about it made her chest ache. She’d always thought that Glen loved his job more than anything. She’d always imagined that things had turned out the way he’d wanted. But what if they hadn’t?

Falcon nodded. “Go back and tell them you didn’t find me. I’ll come in when I’m ready.”

“Believe it or not, I’d like to be able to do exactly that. But I can’t.”

Falcon barked out a laugh. “Why not? Because The Order has been so great to you?”

Glen searched Falcon’s face in the darkness. “No. Because they have my vow.”

Falcon looked away and sighed. Then he handed the popcorn to Rosie. She knew it was probably unprofessional to start stuffing her face with buttery salty little explosions of corn goodness, but after all, she was a fraction human. So she shoveled a handful into her mouth.

“Okay. Let’s go,” Falcon said.

They exited right and Rosie followed. When they reached the lobby, Glen gave Rosie a look that clearly conveyed what-the-hey-are-you-doing? As he took the bucket of popcorn out of her hand, he leaned into her and said, “We’re working,” through clenched teeth.

She grabbed the popcorn back and said, “I can work and eat popcorn. I’m only human.”

He jerked the bucket out of her hands again and said, “You. Are. Not. Human.”

“Well, you know what I mean.”

“I don’t, but that’s neither here nor there,” he said. Without taking his eyes away from hers, he turned the bucket upside down in the trash receptacle. She gaped as the remaining popcorn tumbled down, instantly becoming garbage. “But if you want to dumpster dive for kernels, I won’t stop you.”

He walked off as if he intended to never give her another thought. Rosie looked at the trash bin longingly for a second, but followed the two men out onto the street.

It was close to dark, which meant the whisters would be in use bringing knights into Manhattan for drop off. If they were lucky they would time it so they could catch a ride back right away and not give Falcon the chance to change his mind.

The closest whisterport was at Eighth and University and the shortest distance was as-the-crow-flies straight through Washington Square. Rosie could see that Glen was getting more anxious by the minute, but she was busy trying not to fall behind the long-legged pace of two knights in their prime. The streets were getting crowded as commuters spilled out of office buildings on their way to subways, or buses, or trains.

When they were halfway across Washington Square, Falcon turned to Rosie and said, “Isn’t that your dad over there?”

Rosie looked the way he’d pointed and craned her neck, searching for Storm, as did Glen. Then he turned back to Falcon saying, “I don’t see…”

Falcon was nowhere in sight.

Glen practically shouted, “SHIT!”

When it dawned on Rosie that they’d been tricked with a child’s tactic, she giggled.

Glen looked furious. “You think this is funny?”

“Well… kind of.” She was unapologetic.

“It’s not a game.”

Glen turned three hundred and sixty degrees hoping to catch sight of a disappearing target, but knew that catching up to Falcon a second time would be about a thousand times harder. He’d blown his chance for easy.

Angry features came to rest on Rosie. “Well, tracker. Looks like you’re up.”

She gave him a coquettish smile with a little curtsy and pulled on the chain that held the family scrying crystal. Glen watched as the crystal slowly defied gravity and pointed northeast.

Naturally, he thought. Falcon was heading in the direction of the theatre district and Times Square where tourists would be thick as thieves.

“If he’s going where I think he’s going, we can get there first. Can you get me to 46th and Broadway? Do you know where it is?”

“I know where it is.”

When Rosie didn’t move, he said, “Well?”

“What about the handcuffs?”

“We don’t have time for that.” He looked down at her. “Just put your arm around my waist and I’ll put my arm around yours. Hold tight and don’t lose me!”

“Okay.” Rosie felt a wave of familiar feeling when she slid her arm around Glen’s waist. She might have been mad at him, but her body didn’t seem to know or care about that.

Likewise, Glen’s expression became hooded when he wrapped his arm around her. She thought she saw his nostrils flare slightly, like he might be taking in her scent. He was only a quarter werewolf, but that quarter was expressed in surprising ways. She remembered that sometimes, when they’d been together, she would forget about his mixed heritage and begin thinking of him as totally human. Then his chest would rumble with a growl or huff or other animal sound that would have been impossible for a human.

“You don’t hate me enough to deliberately lose me. Do you?” he asked.

She looked up into his face, just inches away from hers. “I could never hate you, Glen. And I would never lose you.”

She saw a flicker of something pass behind his eyes, but didn’t wait to investigate. It wasn’t the time or place to find out if the damage to their friendship was irreparable. She moved them into the passes, but they were there for only a few seconds. They walked into reality in an alley just off Times Square, hidden by two large dumpsters, the kind that are borne aloft by trucks equipped with giant robot arms.

Glen let go of her immediately. “You see the Marriott Marquis over there?”

“Yes.”

“There’s a Starbucks on the street level at the pedestrian alley. Go wait for me there.”

“What?”

“I can move faster without you.”

“Oh yeah? Says the person who was sixteen blocks from here sixty seconds ago courtesy of none other than me.”

“It’s not a review of your job performance. He won’t be looking for one person. He’ll be looking for two. Or one person and a demon.”

“Haven’t you ever heard that four eyes are better than two?”

Glen ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. “No.”

“I’ll look while you’re looking. If I see him, I’ll call you. If I don’t see him, I’ll be at the Starbucks in an hour.”

He looked dubious, but said, “Starbucks in an hour.”

“If you can’t get there, call.” He nodded. “Say it. Say you’ll call if you can’t get there in an hour.”

“What’s the matter? Afraid I’ll just disappear?”

“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.”

“Feels awful, doesn’t it?”

Rosie just stared. There was nothing to say. It was becoming clear that he wanted to lash out at her, make her understand that she had hurt him. Badly.

When they reached 7th, Glen turned left and Rosie turned right.

An hour later and emptyhanded, Glen walked up the alley next to Shubert’s toward the Starbucks. He spotted Rosie from half a block away standing outside and looking around anxiously.

Before he could shore up the armor around his heart, he felt a tug, remembering how protective he’d felt when he babysat her as a child, and how proud he felt when she looked at him with an adoration that went well beyond mere affection. Of course his ego had been affected. He’d been equally fascinated with her, but with the added complication of guilt over having feelings for someone who was, technically, only a year old, someone he’d babysat and even rocked to sleep. The conflict and confusion was indescribable. There was no support group for young men who found themselves with his dilemma. Their relationship was as unique as she was.

He chastised himself for allowing his thoughts to go there. Idiot.

When she saw Glen approaching, relief showed on her face. He wondered if she was relieved because she was bored with the game and tired of waiting or if she was actually concerned for his well-being.

“You’re back.” She smiled.

“I’m back,” he said drily.

“No luck?”

“Obviously.”

“What’s next?’

“You’re the tracker. You’re supposed to tell me what’s next.”

“Okay. I’m glad you asked. What’s next is food. I can’t go on without it.”

“You can’t go on?” Glen smirked, looking over her curves. “Falcon’s popcorn didn’t do it for you?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t you dare suggest that I could stand to go without dinner.”

Truthfully, Glen thought Rosie’s shape was feminine perfection, but he certainly didn’t want her to know that he felt that way. So he said, “Okay,” like he was avoiding an argument, knowing that it would leave her believing he thought she was too curvy. He’d learned when he was still a boy that the way to torture the opposite sex was to suggest that they could afford to lose a couple of pounds, whether it was true or not.

“You’re not hungry?”

He shrugged and looked around. “I could eat. But let’s make it fast.”

“Fast food? Or eat food fast?”

“I’m an active duty knight. I don’t eat ‘fast food’.” He looked to his right. “There’s a closet-sized Italian place two blocks from here. And it’s good.”

“I like Italian,” she said with an enthusiasm that pleased Glen, and the fact that he was pleased made him despise her even more.

“I know you do,” he said without emotion.

She followed his lead to a hole-in-the-wall place called Mama Rosa’s. Her lips parted in surprise when he pulled the door open and waited for her to enter.

“Signore Glen!” A woman’s voice called out as soon as they were inside.

“Buonasera, Mama Rosa,” said Glen.

The woman’s eyes went to Rosie. “A lady friend?” She looked askance at Glen. “Where have you been hiding her?”

“She’s someone I work with. This is Elora Rose.”

“Oh! Her name is Rose. I should have known. The most beautiful women in the world are named Rose, you know.”

Glen smiled. “I suspected as much.”

They followed Rosa to a booth near the back.

When they sat down, Glen refused menus. “Two samplers,” he said.

“Wine?”

He shook his head. “Not tonight. We’re working.”

“Oh. What do you do?”

Glen seemed to have frozen at that question, but Rosie answered smoothly. “Private investigations, but it’s very confidential. Please don’t tell anyone or we’ll have to stop coming here.”

Rosa looked very serious. “Your secrets are my secrets.” She looked around then leaned into the table and said quietly, “Italians are very good at knowing when to keep our mouths full of cannoli and free of talking.”

Rosie smiled. “I see why Glen likes to come here.”

Rosa beamed. “And the food is good, too.”

When they were alone, Glen asked, “What’s next, tracker?”

“After samplers, whatever that is, I’ll see what the crystal has to say.”

“The crystal,” he said drily.

“Do you have a problem with the crystal?”

“Well, it didn’t exactly lead us straight to the target.”

“Are you always so disagreeable now?”

“What do you mean by ‘now’?”

“Now as in this calendar date. As opposed to how you used to be when I knew you before.”

“I’m not that person anymore.”

“Yeah. That’s a shame. Because I much preferred that person.”

“Really? So much so that you disappeared? For YEARS!?!”

A couple of heads turned at his raised voice.

When people resumed minding their own business, Rosie said, “That wasn’t what I intended.” She met Glen’s gaze. “Like I told you before, I’m sorry.”

Glen looked away. “Drop it.”

“Okay. Where have you been? What have you been up to?”

A beautiful girl who could have been a decades-younger version of Rosa brought two glasses of water and a basket of breadsticks. She did a good job of pretending Rosie wasn’t there and just as good a job of trying to capture Glen’s attention.

“Hello, Glen,” she said, putting her hand on his arm in a familiar way. “Nice to see you.”

Glen responded with a smile that Rosie had all but forgotten, but her heart remembered when he used to look at her like that.

“Rosalie. Nice to see you, too.”

Glen felt a little bad about using Rosalie’s infatuation to make Rosie sorry she’d lost him, but at the moment he wanted to make Rosie uncomfortable more than he cared about Rosalie’s feelings.

Rosie looked between the two of them and said, “I’d like lemon in my water, please.” The girl slowly dragged her eyes away from Glen and blinked at Rosie as if she couldn’t imagine her being able to speak. “Sometime tonight,” she added.

When the girl left, Glen said, “That was rude.”

Rosie barked out a laugh. “I think you’ve lost the cred necessary to be able to render judgment on rudeness, Glen.”

The swinging doors opened from the kitchen and a young waiter brought two gigantic platters of Italian variety.

“Wow,” Rosie marveled. “This is enough food for everybody eating here tonight.”

“It’s also fast. It’s fast food. And if we eat it fast, then we can get back to work before the trail goes cold.” Rosie gave Glen a silent snort. “What?”

“Before the trail goes cold? How exactly is that going to happen? His footprints are going to fade from the impression they made in the cement?”

“I mean the more time he has to come up with a plan to disappear, the harder it will be to find him.”

“Where do you think he’s going to go?”

“He’s not thinking straight. So who knows?”

“You do.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“The minute you saw that theater you knew he was in there.”

Glen’s eyes sparked. “Because what was playing was a French film.”

“So where do you think he’s going to go?”

“France.”

Rosie nodded. “Chances are.”

“He’s going to Paris because he knows Jean Etienne is there and where he finds Jean Etienne…”

“He’ll find Genevieve. But why would he do that?”

“I gather he’s both unstable and in love. Not that thinking you’re in love isn’t always a form of instability. He may still be thinking he can persuade the woman, or vampire, to be his.”

“Wow. How would that work?”

Glen shook his head. “I don’t want to think about it too hard. Maybe he has a death wish.”

“Where did that come from?” Glen just shrugged. “So let’s say he was going to Paris, it shouldn’t be a problem to use the crystal and find him on a map, but how’s he going to get there without a passport?”

“If knighthood teaches you anything, it’s how to be resourceful. He might have a safety deposit box somewhere with money or credit cards and a second passport.”

Rosie looked up at Glen with wide eyes. “Or he might be ballsy enough to walk right back into Jefferson Unit, get what he needs, and walk out again. He might have guessed that there’s only a handful of people who know he’s AWOL. There’s us, Monq, the Sovereign, and the whister pilot who had to pick up the whister Falcon flew one way.”

Glen’s eyes were focused on Rosie. “He could get a ride back, walk down to his quarters, get his passport and whatever else he wants, then go back upstairs to the whisterport. If he never went downstairs, he could evade Rev and Monq. All he would have to do is manage to not run into Wakenmann and, since he knows K Team’s schedule, that wouldn’t be hard to do.

“As far as being ballsy… He and Wakenmann both walked into a firestorm when they were teenagers without blinking. I saw it on video. Ball size is not in question.” Glen took out his phone. “I’m going to get the pilots’ numbers. Can you write them down?”

“No pen.”

“Put them in your phone.”

“Okay.

Glen called the Sovereign’s office on the off chance that somebody was still there. No answer. He called Rev’s cell phone.

“Yeah?”

“Sorry to bother you after hours, Sovereign. I need direct numbers for all the pilots working tonight and nobody picked up in your office.”

“Okay. Hang on.”

Glen knew that Rev would have a portaputer with him at all times just as he had when he’d held the Sovereign’s job. Rev came back on the line and read off three names and numbers, which Glen repeated to Rosie.

“Thanks,” Glen said.

“Something I should know?” Rev asked.

“Nothing to report yet. We’re working on a hunch.”

“Okay.”

“Oh, hey. One more thing. Which pilot picked up the whister that Falcon stole?”

“I prefer the term borrow. It was Morgan.”

“Is he the only pilot who knows Falcon is off the reservation?”

“Yeah. This is not something we want broadcast on the nightly news.”

“Got it. I’ll report tomorrow.” He ended the call and looked over at Rosie.

She handed over her phone. He glanced at the name and dialed. When the pilot picked up, he said, “James? This is Sir Catch.”

“Evening,” said James.

“You seen Sir Falcon tonight?”

“No.”

“Okay. Call this number if you do. Do not mention this to anyone else and, if you do see him, do not alert Sir Falcon that you were asked about him.”

“All right.”

Glen hung up and went to the next name. “Foster? This is Sir Catch.”

“Howdy do.”

“You seen Sir Falcon tonight?”

“Yeah. Twice. I picked him up at midtown. Half an hour later I gave him a ride back. The teams were all out. So there was no reason not to go. Right?”

“Right. How long ago was that?”

“Set him down about forty-five minutes ago.”

“Thanks. Keep this talk to yourself.”

“Yes, sir.”

Glen handed Rosie her phone. “Next move?”

“You think he’s going to an airport?”

“Yep. Question is, which one?”

“You think he’s going commercial?” Glen gave her a full teeth grin. “Okay. Private. So we need jet charter with international service.”

As Glen typed on his phone, he glanced over at Rosie’s chest then back to the screen in his hand. “Get that demon stone to tell us which direction.”

Rosie pulled the crystal out and whispered a few unintelligible words. Glen watched the crystal defy gravity and move of its own accord. No matter how often he was exposed to the paranormal world, such things still amazed him.

“Well?” he asked.

“That way,” she pointed.

“Are you sure? That’s northeast.”

“Positive.”

Glen whistled. “He’s dipping deep into the piggy bank. He backtracked to New Jersey, which was smart. If we’re right about where he’s going, he’s headed for Teterboro. Gonna charter a private jet. Apparently he was mulling over what to do when we found him at the movies. I guess somewhere between there and Washington Square he decided he’s going after her.”

“What do you want to do?”

“Let’s head back to J.U. We can get a few hours’ sleep and still get there ahead of him. We can also let Baka know we’re coming just in case Falcon gets there before we do.”

Rosie’s eyes were wide. “You’re going to commit to the passes for that long? It’ll take twenty minutes, Glen.”

“That’s the job, right? I’ll manage.”

“Macho, macho man.” He made a face. “I’m not complaining. You’ve managed to be civil for,” she looked at her watch, “five minutes.”

“That wasn’t my intention.”

“Which just goes to show that you have to work at being a bad guy.” Glen scowled at that. “You ever been to Paris?”

“Yeah. I worked there for a little while.”

The way he said it left Rosie with the impression that he hadn’t enjoyed his post there, but she knew she wouldn’t get anywhere asking a personal question about how he’d spent his time.

“Did you see the sights?”

He laughed. “Only if we were passing them while chasing down a biter.”

“Oh. That’s a shame.”

“Is it?”

“Yes. Of course. And the fact that you speak French so well…”

He dialed a number like she wasn’t talking. “Two need a ride.” Pause. “Yes.” Pause. He looked at his watch. “Seven minutes.”

Glen signed the check and scooted out of the booth. Conversation was over.

“Let’s go.”

Rosie hurried toward the door so she could go through first, and made a show of holding it open for Glen. As he passed her, he said, “Such a lady,” in the most sarcastic way possible.

Out on the street the wind had picked up. Glen stuck both hands in the pockets of his jacket and pulled up the hood of the lightweight hoodie he’d worn underneath.

Rosie simply sent a thought to regulate her body temperature so that external circumstances were irrelevant.

By the time they reached the entrance to the building with the closest whisterport, Glen’s teeth were chattering. Rosie, on the other hand, looked like she could be ordering an umbrella drink from a beach side bar, and it didn’t escape Glen’s notice.

“See,” he said. “That’s exactly why things never would have worked out between us. Everything comes too easy to you.”

“So says the only person to ever come close to being named acting Sovereign of an elite Order facility at the age of NINETEEN! Most people would look at that and say that’s impossible, that everything must be way too easy for that kid.”

“I worked hard at stuff.”

“So what? You worked hard and succeeded where almost everybody else in the world who worked just as hard would have failed. You need to face the fact that you have innate gifts, too. You don’t get to take credit for how smart you are, or how likeable, or how good-look…”

He grinned. “What was that?”

She looked away feeling embarrassed in a way she didn’t think was possible after all she’d been through the past few years. “Nothing you don’t already know.”

Rosie followed Glen into the elevator reserved for Order passengers. The one that would only operate with Order I.D.

On the ride up, he glanced over at her. “I was good at being Sovereign.”

She looked straight ahead, but said, “I know you were.”

Glen hated that his heart responded to Rosie’s praise by swelling up and forcing him to take deeper breaths. She was old news. Old, old, old, old news. And she didn’t mean anything to him. At all.

They waited for the whister in awkward silence and made the flight back to Jefferson Unit without speaking another word. When they stepped out onto the roof at J.U., Glen walked away without a goodbye or a last look.

Rosie stood there staring after him, wondering what had happened to make him so angry and distant, apart from her abandonment.

When the pilot passed her, he said, “Fighting, are you? Don’t worry. The making up part makes it all worth it.” He winked at Rosie.

“No. Um. We’re not together like that.”

The pilot smiled. “Right.” Then he disappeared into the little building known as the crew hut leaving Rosie standing on the whisterport wondering if she really wanted the tracker job. For years she’d wondered if the day would come when she’d have to face Glen. She’d never expected that he’d just say, “No harm done,” but she hadn’t expected it to be so hard. She hadn’t expected him to be so hard.

She wanted to explain that she’d just been a toddler throwing a fit. Like a child with a powerful sports car and no drivers’ license, she’d had no business making love to a man with a woman’s body. Hindsight is always perfect. Part of her felt like he had every right to his anger, but the other part felt like he was being unreasonable, holding her to a standard she hadn’t been capable of reaching at that moment in time. She knew he might never be ready to open up enough to hear that, which meant it was likely she’d have to cut her losses, with regret, and live with having hurt someone she cared about.

Glen went straight to his guest apartment at Jefferson Unit feeling like he needed nothing more than to be alone and away from her. Hours spent with Rosie had been exhausting, an assault on all his senses and on all his defenses.

He turned on the lights, sat down on the sofa and looked around. It was as generic as any upscale hotel suite. Nice, but designed to look like it belonged to no one. He realized that it had been years since he’d last slept in a place that felt like home. He didn’t “live” anywhere. He “stayed” in temporary quarters until the next transfer.

On that despondent thought he pulled out his phone and sent Rev a text update.

GLEN: We don’t have him, but we think he’s getting a charter out of Teterboro for Paris. We’re going to nap for a few, then head there. Maybe you could brief Jean Etienne and tell him to expect us?

REV: Not what I’d hoped for.

GLEN: We’re handling it.

Monq had asked Rev to keep him posted daily on Glen’s activities. He wanted to monitor the situation closely because it could go either way. It could be beneficial or detrimental. Even someone with Monq’s perceptive abilities couldn’t make a prediction with a hundred percent accuracy.

REV: Check in with Monq before you go. That’s an order.

Glen sighed. The last thing he wanted to do was ‘check in with Monq’. He scrolled to Monq’s number.

GLEN: Rev said to check in with you.

MONQ: My office. Fifteen minutes.

GLEN: I’ve already had dinner.

MONQ: It won’t take that long.

Glen looked at his watch, tossed the phone on the sofa beside him, and closed his eyes. Moments later he heard the phone buzzing. He picked it up and looked at the text.

MONQ: Where are you?

Glen looked at his watch. It had been twenty-five minutes. He ran a hand through his hair.

GLEN: Sorry. I dozed off. Be there in two.

True to his word, Glen was standing at the threshold of Monq’s office in two minutes.

“Come in,” Monq said. “Close the door.” Glen did as he was told, but didn’t sit. “You know,” Monq began, “the more you cooperate, the faster you’ll be out of here.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning sit yourself down and sack the attitude long enough to tell me how you are.”

“How I am?”

“The concept of asking how you are is foreign to you?”

Glen sat. “It’s not a social call. I was ordered here.”

“Well, that is true. But since you’re here, how are you?”

“I. Am. Fine. Is that all?”

“No, it isn’t. How is your pursuit of Sir Falcon going? I’m very concerned about his state of mind.”

“We think he’s chartered a jet to take him to Paris. That’s not conclusive. Just a hunch.”

“And you’re going after him?”

Glen made a face. “Yes. In a couple of hours.”

“Transportation via the Storm girl?” Glen dropped his chin and glared at Monq under his eyebrows. “Oh, that’s right. You’re sensitive about her name. Elora Rose, isn’t it?”

“I’m not sensitive about her name. Yes. She can get us to Paris ahead of Falcon. And I’d rather take a beating.”

“Why’s that?”

“Nausea. It’s brutal.”

“Why didn’t you say so? I have something for that.”

Glen gaped. “You do?”

“Of course. It’s a variation on common motion-sickness drugs. Wait here.” Monq left, but returned in a few minutes with a small rectangular tin. The pills were as tiny as miniscule breath mints. “Let one of these melt on your tongue at least five minutes before you need to travel. It should last for eight hours or so.”

Glen took the tin, opened it, and looked inside at the little pink tablets. “This is probably the best gift I’ve ever received.”

“Demon travel is that bad, huh?”

“Oh, yeah. Thank you. So, on the matter of Falcon. I talked to him. He said he was coming in, then used a sucker trick to get away.”

“You talked to him? How did he seem?”

“To be honest, he seemed perfectly okay. Since it looks like he could be hours away when apprehended, what’s your proposal as to how to get him back here without injury?”

“If we need to mildly sedate him for the trip, we will.”

“Gods.” Glen looked away. “Doesn’t seem right.”

“You think he should be able to walk away whenever he wants to.”

“Yes.”

“I would agree if I was satisfied that he was fully himself and knew what he was doing. Unfortunately I feel certain that’s not the case. You and I both know that, if he was in the right frame of mind, he would have accompanied you back here and gone through the process of discharge.”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

“So you think he’ll go straight to Baka’s unit looking for Jean Etienne?”

“That’s my guess.”

“How are you getting along with the St… with Ms. Storm?”

Glen grinned, showing all his very white teeth and canines that were just a tiny bit more pointed than normal. “None of your business.”

Monq chuckled. “If this assignment is too much for you, now is the time to say so.”

Glen’s humor died abruptly. “I’ve never ducked an assignment and I’m not going to start now. Working with… Ms. Storm is not a problem. Not for her. Not for me.”

“Glad to hear it.” Monq rose and opened his office door. “Thanks for stopping by. Let me know when you find Falcon, any hour of the day or night. Don’t worry about the time change.”

“Yeah. Easy for you to say.”

Glen left Monq’s office feeling a hundred pounds lighter. The dread of traveling the passes had weighed that heavily. His hand went to the little tin of pills just to reassure himself that he had them. He felt like he’d been armed with a magical object from myth, like a cup of immortality or a stone that makes its bearer invincible.

He went back to his temporary quarters and texted Rosie.

GLEN: ETD four hours.

ROSIE: Okay.

He set the alarm on his phone and stretched out on the sofa. He didn’t even bother to remove his jacket or his boots.

After Glen left, Monq made a call.

“Hello?”

“Mrs. Hawking.”

There was a sigh on the other end of the call. “There’s no point in correcting you. I’m not playing that game anymore. You enjoy bungling people’s names. What do you want?”

“That’s not especially friendly.”

“That’s because I know you’re about to ask me to do something that I probably don’t want to do.”

“A cup of tea and a brief conversation.”

“What is the ‘brief conversation’ concerning?”

“I’ll tell you over tea.”

“You are not delivering these babies.”

“It’s not about that.”

“I can’t trust you. You always think you’re being crafty, but you’re not. You’re just being you and I know it.”

“I have no idea what that means.”

After a pause she said, “You’ll have to come here. My husband is on patrol and I’m watching Helm.”

“Five minutes.”

“Okay. If I don’t like what you have to say, I’m throwing you out.”

“Hmmm.”

“I mean it this time.”

“Of course, my dear.”

As Monq passed through Elora’s open door, the tea kettle began to chug and toot. The kettle was housed in a red train engine. Most of the steam was forced out of the stack, but some of it was diverted to make the wheels spin. Ram had brought it home when Helm was still a toddler. While he still loved it, Helm was beginning to think that a boy such as himself should be too grown up for such things. So he rolled his eyes and made himself content with loving it secretly.

Elora carried the wooden box of tea bags to the table and opened it for Monq to make a selection. When they’d both poured tea and complemented it with sweeteners or cream or lemon, she said, “What’s this about?”

“That crème brulee creamer is very nice, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Thank you. What’s this about?”

“Still concerned with Sir Catch.”

“Go on.”

“This is classified.”

“I have clearance.”

“I know, but I don’t want it to get around to anyone who doesn’t.”

When Monq looked pointedly at Helm, Elora laughed out loud. “Helm, you have permission to play Dungeons and Demons while I talk to Dr. Monq.”

Helm grinned at Monq and said, “Stay as long as you like,” as if he was thirty. He grabbed a lemon poppy seed muffin on his way out of the room.

Elora called after him. “Do not let Blackie have any of that muffin.” Lowering her voice, she said, “The room is secure.”

“The Operations Manager is a vampire.”

Elora looked serious. “That’s a shame. I liked her.”

“Yes. Well. So did Sir Falcon.”

Elora took a sip of tea. “That part is common knowledge.”

“He didn’t take it well. Her becoming a vampire, I mean.”

“Did he kill her?”

“No. No. He didn’t kill her. He did everything in his power to protect her. Long story short. She left with Jean Etienne, who is going to keep her alive and in control by giving her his blood.”

Elora’s eyes went wide. “Immortal blood?”

“Yes, supposedly immortal. Anyway, Falcon didn’t take it well. He left.”

“You mean he left? As in, walked out?”

“Not exactly. He flew out. Took one of the whisters and left it in New York. Rev sent Glen to fetch him back so that I can evaluate his mental state.”

“Okay.”

“The Sovereign also put the new tracker on the case.”

“The new tracker,” she repeated. Then understanding dawned. “Oh. You mean…”

“Yes. The Storm girl. You knew her mother had taken a leave of absence.”

“Yes. Of course.”

“So they lost Falcon in New York. Now they think he’s headed to Paris to find Jean Etienne.”

“That,” she nodded, “seems like a logical assumption. Are you getting to the part where this has something to do with me sometime soon?”

“Yes. Almost there.”

“Go for it.”

“Well, I was thinking Sir Catch and the Storm girl in Paris la ville des lumières… working together.”

A smile slowly spread over Elora’s face as understanding dawned. “You old devil. You want to play Cupid and you’re here to get me to help with some crazy scheme.”

“Precisely.”

“Isn’t this a little outside the parameters of psychiatry? Never mind. I don’t care. I’m in! But I’m not really the one you need.” Her eyes flew open with the realization that she was being manipulated. “Ohhhhhh. You already knew that. You want me to use my influence as Litha’s friend to get her on board with your plan. Whatever it is.” She could tell by the satisfied look on Monq’s face that Litha was the ultimate target. “What is your plan anyway? Let me just preface this whole thing by saying that, whatever it is, if it backfires, there’ll be a lot of people out for your head.”

“Well, all the minor details haven’t been ironed out, but I have a framework on which to hang a fully developed strategy.”

“Strategy? If people are meant to be together, you don’t need a strategy. All you need is a way to put them in the same place at the same time until the chemistry kicks in and bakes the cake.”

Monq was nodding. “I know that. The problem is keeping them in the same place at the same time. First, Glen has concluded that he’s never going to be happy and has settled into that role with all its accoutrements and satellites. Second, regarding Elora Rose, it’s hard to pin down someone who can walk through walls, cross dimensions, vanish in an instant, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.”

“Hmmm.”

Elora got up to restart the tea kettle then picked up her phone and dialed Litha.

“Hello?”

“What are you doing?”

“Playing twenty questions with you?”

“No. Really.”

“I’m reading an ancient esoteric Sumerian text on demon young.”

“Of all the things I imagined you might say, that wasn’t one of them.”

“What did you want me to say?”

“I wanted you to say, ‘Nothing. What’s up?’”

“Got it. Ask me again.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m not doing anything. What’s up?”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“Elora.”

“Monq is here with something very interesting to discuss. Can you run over here?”

“Now?”

“Now.”

Litha appeared in the kitchen next to the stove with her phone still held to her ear. “Yes.”

Elora looked at her. “I will never get used to that if we are friends for a thousand years.”

“That could happen. I don’t know how long I’ll live, but it might be long enough to figure out how to extend your life.”

“You can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“It wouldn’t be right to extend my life because I’m your friend and not offer the same thing to everybody. And if you offered it to everybody we’d have the rats in a bottle problem and populate the world beyond tolerance within a few years.”

“There are lots of other dimensions with no population at all.”

“That may be, but exponential is exponential.”

“When I suggested that I might want you to live forever I’d temporarily forgotten how irritating you can be.” She looked at Elora’s stomach. “My gods. You are bigger than when I saw you this morning.”

Elora chuckled. “Monq is here.”

Litha looked behind her. “Hello.”

“You want tea?” Elora asked.

“Yes. Whatever you’re having.”

“Monq has a really intriguing idea.”

“I’m getting a strong intuitive feeling that I should leave now without asking what it is.” Litha looked at Monq with unmasked suspicion.

“Before you go, you should know it’s about Rosie,” said Monq.

“So you do know her name!” Elora accused.

“Of course I know her name. She’s a phenomenon. How could I not know her name?”

Elora stared blankly. “Sometimes I think you’re the biggest mystery in the whole of The Order and that’s going some.”

Litha took a chair at the table. “Where’s Helm?”

“Playing Dungeons and Demons. Monq, tell her what you have in mind.”

“Very well. Did you know that Sir Catch is on assignment with the tracker who’s filling in for you?”

Litha pulled back as if she was examining Monq, then directed her attention toward Elora when she said, “No. I didn’t.” She sounded concerned.

“Well, truthfully, it’s not widely known,” he said. “In fact, neither of you are supposed to know. Technically.”

Litha managed to look even more suspicious. “Then why are we sitting here listening to this, Dr. Monq?”

“You know the two of them have a romantic history?”

“Of course I know that.”

“Well, then, the answer to your question is simple. I think the happiness of two young people is more important than Order protocol. Don’t you?”

Litha glanced at Elora when she put a steaming cup in front of her.

“What are you thinking?” asked Litha.

“They’re chasing an AWOL knight on a lost-cause mission of love. All the way to Paris.”

“Oh.” Litha took a sip of tea feeling sorry for the poor bugger, whoever he was, who was in the agonizing midst of unrequited love. She’d been there herself and wouldn’t wish it on anybody.

“We were thinking…”

“We?”

“Mrs. Hawking and I.”

Litha smirked at Elora. “Oh. You and Mrs. Hawking.” Elora rolled her eyes. “But I’m guessing that wouldn’t be you, Mrs. Hawking, and the Jefferson Unit Sovereign.”

Monq readjusted his seat in the chair. “I don’t think he should be bothered.”

Litha laughed out loud. “Hmmm. I can see that.”

“We,” he motioned between himself and Elora, “were thinking that, if Glen and Rosie found themselves together in the City of Lights for long enough they might find their way back toward one another.”

Litha looked at Elora. “How did you get roped into this?”

She rolled a shoulder. “I love Rosie. I love Glen. It didn’t take much persuading.”

Litha stared into her tea cup for a long time. When she looked up, her eyes went back and forth between the two cohorts. “You’re not planning any interference beyond that? Making sure they’re in the same place together for a while?”

Monq held his hands up. “Just that. Then we back away and let love do its thing.”

“What is it that you want from me?”

“Well, background for starters,” Monq said. “What happened?”

Litha sighed then did a little bobble head thing. “They were dating.” She looked away and smiled nostalgically. “It seemed like Rosie was in love with Glen before she was born. The first word she ever said was Glen.

“Before she could even walk she would try to pitch herself out of my arms, in Glen’s direction. Sometimes I was afraid she was going to fall. Although I shouldn’t have been. Now I know that she had the ability to stop herself from falling.” Monq glanced quizzically at Elora, but didn’t stop Litha mid-speech. “Glen would always get there in time to catch her. He’d take her in his arms. The two of them would laugh and she’d pat his cheek with her chubby little hands and squeal his name. It was cute as…”

Litha looked up and became embarrassed when she realized she was waxing maternal. She cleared her throat and continued in a more clinical tone.

“He babysat a lot when Storm was lost. I was gone so much searching. You know?” She looked up for confirmation and maybe absolution. Monq and Elora both nodded sympathetically. “And, gods, she grew up overnight. At least physically. I turned around twice and she was pubescent. That’s when she began to be petulant about Glen.”

“In what way?”

Litha sighed. “Glen was… how do I say this? Highly sought after by girls and equally receptive to their attentions. He didn’t try to hide that from Rosie, at all, because he didn’t see her as anything but the kid he was babysitting. Perhaps even as a little sister. She, on the other hand, believed she was in love. His dating was becoming more and more of a problem for her, while he didn’t get why she was acting crazy.

“When we,” she made a motion between Elora and herself, “decided that perhaps Rosie was old enough to date, we practically had to ritualize giving Glen permission to take her out.”

“That’s right.” Elora chuckled. “We had a private candlelight dinner for four.”

Litha nodded. “It worked. They were together, and by all appearances happy, right up until Glen was being inducted into knighthood.”

“What happened then?”

“Rosie told him she didn’t want him to accept commission as a knight. Naturally he told her that was ridiculous. She ended up giving him an ultimatum. She gave him four days to choose her over the job.” Litha sighed. “It’s not that it was just childish. It was also the worst case of self-sabotage I could imagine. When Storm found out what she’d done he blew a gasket. It was her first experience with having her dad be angry with her. Between not understanding Glen’s need to accept the knighthood he’d spent half his life working toward and her father, well, you could say it was a perfect storm. And I don’t mean that to be funny. There was nothing funny about it.

“She gave Glen a deadline and said that, if he didn’t call to say he was choosing her over Black Swan, she’d disappear. Bottom line. He didn’t call, at least not by the deadline. And she disappeared.”

“You didn’t know where she was?” Monq asked.

“My friend knew where she was and I knew that I could reach her if there was an emergency. But for whatever reason, she’d decided to go off on her own and I thought it was best to let her make her own choices. Sometimes we learn the most from our failures. Good parents get out of the way and allow their kids fall down so that they can learn to pick themselves up and keep going. At least that’s what I think.”

“So you hadn’t seen her again in all this time?” Monq asked.

“No. I did. A few months after she’d left, she’d had a really bad experience where she’d been staying and came home distraught. Storm and I listened and reassured her that we would always be there for whatever support she needed from us and that she’d always be loved no matter what. Then she was gone again and I didn’t see her until a couple of weeks ago.

“Half the reason why I took a leave of absence was to give her a purpose close to home so I could reconnect with her. So I wouldn’t have to go for years between visits.”

Elora nodded reassuringly.

Monq said, “What about Glen?”

“Glen had been close to our whole family. He’d practically worshipped Storm, and Storm thought the world of Glen. For the first year Glen called twice a month to find out if we’d heard anything from Rosie and if there was a way he could reach her. The next year the time between calls began to grow. For a while it was once a month, then once a quarter until he stopped calling.

“After he stopped calling, he also stopped returning Storm’s phone calls, which I have to tell you, didn’t sit well with my husband. Although he would never say so, I think it hurt his feelings. When Glen was transferred back here, he never reached out to us. That was hard. There was a time when he came to dinner every Tuesday night. Like family. We loved him.”

She held up her cup. “How about another?”

“Sure,” Elora said as she rose to pour another cup.

“That’s all there was to it,” Litha said. “If Rosie had been more mature and not put Glen in the outlandish position of choosing her or The Order, I would bet my last dollar that they’d still be together.” She looked at Monq. “You believe in soul mates?”

He pursed his lips. “I don’t know about that. I believe that, at any given time, there are multiple people in the world with whom any one of us could find love and happiness, but I also think that of those options, there is one that is the best match possible.”

“For somebody trying to conjure a love match, that’s just about the least romantic thing I’ve ever heard,” Elora said.

Monq shrugged. “These two personalities settled on each other early and then missed out on the follow through. Now that I’ve heard the details of their history from a reputable source, I’m even more convinced that Sir Catch, at least, would greatly benefit from finding his way to forgiving Rosie.”

“What is it that the two of you have in mind?”

“They believe their mission is to find Sir Falcon and bring him back. If he is actually headed to Paris to find Jean Etienne, and by extension, Genevieve Bonheur, we could ask Jean Etienne to apprehend and subdue Falcon. We could even have people transport him back here. But if Glen and Rosie believed he was still at large, they would continue looking. Subterfuge in the name of love isn’t subterfuge. It’s caring.”

Litha exchanged a look with Elora.

“So the big question is this.” Monq looked at Litha. “Would it be possible to create a decoy for Falcon that would fool a tracker? Something that would cause her to believe he was there? In Paris? Something that someone could move around from place to place?”

“Something that would lead them on a chase, you mean.” Litha considered that for a moment. “It would be four-layered and tricky, because, not only would I need to create something that would suffice as his proxy, I would also have to mask his actual presence, essentially make him undetectable magickally. That and we’d also be depending on things of a mundane nature that are beyond my control.”

“A cloak of invisibility,” came a small voice from just outside the door.

“Helm!” Elora said. “Were you eavesdropping?”

Helm appeared at the doorway. “I was coming to the kitchen to get juice.”

“How much did you hear?” Elora asked.

Helm’s blue eyes twinkled in an eerily familiar way. “Some.”

“Come here.”

Helm crossed the room, stood by his mother, and put his hand on her gigantic abdomen. “How are the babies?” he whispered, trying to endear himself to his mother.

Elora couldn’t help but giggle. “The babies are fine, but you, young elf, are in trouble.”

“Why?”

“Do you know what confidential means?”

“No.”

“It means that you can’t tell other people what you know.”

He looked around the table. “Like a secret.”

“Exactly like that.”

“So you want me to keep my mouth shut.” He shrugged. “Okay. Can I have juice?”

Elora stared at Helm for a couple of beats. “You are your father’s child.”

Helm’s eyes cut to hers sharply. “Is that a bad thing?”

She laughed. “No. It’s the best thing in the universe.”

He grinned as she pulled him in for a big hug. He got his juice out of the refrigerator then, on his way past Litha said, “If you can make a cloak of invisibility, I’d like to have one for my birthday.”

Litha raised an eyebrow. “Better come up with something else because that’s never going to happen.”

“Aw,” he said, mocking disappointment. He smiled when he looked back at his mother.

“Go,” she said, “and no more listening in.” When Elora was sure Helm was in D & D zone, she sat down and said to Litha, “So. Can you do it? A cloak of invisibility?”

Litha treated her co-conspirators to one of her rare demon-like smiles. “Close enough.”

Elora looked impressed. “I’m so glad I’m on your good side.”

Litha nodded. “I have to admit, it is the best place to be.”

Monq broke in. “You said four-layered. What are the other two pieces?”

“We need cooperation of both Jean Etienne and my father.”

“Go on,” said Monq.

“I need to get my dad to remove Falcon from this dimension so that Rosie’s tracking crystal will lock onto the poppet. That’s a big if because he’s unpredictable. If he agrees, the last thing would be to get Jean Etienne to move the poppet around Paris to give them something to chase after. When they arrive at our destination of choice, Jean Etienne will douse the energy of the poppet by covering it with the, um,” she dropped her voice to a whisper, “cloak of invisibility.”

Elora said, “This plan is nothing if not elaborate. What can go wrong?”

Monq said, “Let me count the ways.”

“I actually think that’s a good idea,” Elora responded. “Number one?”

“Jean Etienne could say no,” Litha offered.

“He’s French. Aren’t they all about romance? Especially if he’s feeling romantic toward Mme. Bonheur?” Monq asked.

“Hmmm. Comme ci comme ça,” Litha said.

“So you think he might say no?” Elora asked. “Monq, you know him best.”

“It’s really impossible to predict. He’s a virtually immortal vampire, not a man.”

“Okay. Moving on. Number Two?”

“Deliverance could say no,” said Litha.

Elora waved her hand in dismissal. “He never says no to you, Daddy’s girl. Number Three?”

“The couple might experience stress over not finding Falcon, which could cause either Glen or Rosie to be out of sorts and repel the desired result. Judging from what I’ve seen, right now they’re already behaving like flint and steel.” Litha and Elora waited for him to clarify that. “If they get too close together, sparks fly, fire starts, etcetera, etcetera. The last time that happened in my office, I had to replace the carpet. Again.”

“Glen and Rosie ruined your carpet?”

Monq realized he was getting off topic so he waved his hand in the air as if to clear that question from the air. “Never mind. We have more important things to cover.”

“Such as?” Litha asked.

“How to keep the Sovereign satisfied that progress is being made on Falcon’s return, while keeping him from pulling the plug on our mission.”

“I can fix that one,” Elora said.

“How?” Litha and Monq both asked in unison.

Elora smiled. “Secret weapon.”

“Don’t be coy,” Litha said. “Spit it out.”

“Farnsworth.” Elora nodded. “She can get stick-up-his-ass to do anything.”

“She can?” Monq seemed bowled over by the idea of that.

“Yes.”

“I don’t know,” he said. “Sounds risky. Letting Farthing in on this could knock the legs out from under the entire operation. He might just say no.”

Elora pondered that while her fingers made clockwise circular patterns on her rounded tummy as if she was soothing the twins . “I see what you’re saying, but I have faith that Farnsworth can lead him to reason.”

“Then we’d be in trouble,” said Monq, “because there’s really nothing reasonable about what we’re proposing. It’s quite mad and could get the lot of us in hot water with The Order, not to mention the young people who are being played like pieces in a game.”

“It sounds manipulative when you put it like that,” said Elora. Litha and Monq stared at her. “Okay. So it is. But hopefully the end result will justify the manipulation.”

Litha joined in. “If this goes south, Rosie may not speak to me for centuries.”

“Well, that would be bad,” Monq said.

“Are you going to live for centuries?” The question came from a small sweet voice at the kitchen door.

“Helm! I told you not to listen in. I thought you were busy with your game,” Elora scolded.

“I’m hungry and the talking is going on forever.”

“Well, you have a point,” Elora said. “What do you want for supper?”

“Macaroni and cheese.”

“No.”

“French fries and potato chips. With ketchup.”

“No.”

“Blackened tilapia and green beans.”

“Yes!” She beamed. “We have a winner. I’ll call it in. You can have some grapes to tide you over until it gets here.”

“Popcorn.” He bargained.

“No.”

“Peanut butter and cheese crackers.”

“No.”

“You’re not the boss of me. I’m the king.”

Elora looked shocked. “Who told you that?”

“I heard you talkin’ about it with Da.”

Elora’s eyes narrowed. “Your pointy little ears are starting to get too big. Even for an elf.”

Seeing the look on his mother’s face, Helm was beginning to think better of making a scene in front of company. “You gonna tell Da?”

“Depends. Am I going to hear any more about who’s boss?” He shook his head vigorously. “Grapes.”

Helm hunched his shoulders and trudged to the glass pedestal bowl that housed a selection of grapes like he was trying to survive a forced march. He pulled a bunch of seedless red grapes away from the stem then left the room with a smile so charming that all three adults were enthralled and sat staring after him when he’d gone.

“He’s going to be a handful,” Litha said.

“He already is! Thank the gods his father has a handle on things. It’s like he can predict what Helm is going to say and do next.” She chuckled. “And all hel may break loose when these two meet daylight and share an apartment with the…” She mouthed ‘the king’ and put it in air quotes.

Monq stood up. “I’m going to get ahold of Baka and let him know what’s up.”

“Tell him I said hi,” Elora added.

“Is there going to be anyone associated with The Order who won’t be in on this?” Litha asked.

“Don’t be terse, my dear. You have magick to perform.”

“I need to get in Falcon’s apartment and get something of his,” Litha replied.

“Very well. Phone call first. Burgling next.”

Litha eyed the outrageous swell of Elora’s pregnancy. “You think you can keep that together until after you talk to Farnsworth?”

Elora pressed her lips together. “I’d better go call now. Just in case. Although the timing isn’t great because the Sovereign is likely off duty now. It would be a whole lot easier to talk to her about this when he’s not around.”

“Well, you’ll have to weigh the options and decide.”

“Maybe I can get someone to create a situation that he needs to attend to personally?”

“No. That’s crazy,” Litha said. “Instead of trying to get her alone tonight when he’s not home, just invite her over here for tea. Have her tell him that you want to discuss your birthing options one more time.”

“I could do that,” Elora agreed. “Sounds plausible enough.”

“Oh what a tangled web we weave,” added Monq. Both women looked at him like they couldn’t believe he’d just said that since he was the one who’d started the snowball rolling down the mountain. “What? I wasn’t saying it in a bad way. Just an observation.”

“Let’s not ever forget who orchestrated this folly.” Elora looked at Litha. “How long do you need to get your, um, things ready?”

Litha tapped her fingers like she was calculating. “Six hours?”

“You’ll be done before the boys are back. They’ll never be any the wiser,” said Elora.

“If peewee really does ‘keep his mouth shut’,” Litha replied.

“He will. He’s good at secrets.” She paused. “With proper motivation.”

“What would that be?”

“Brownie muffins.” She smiled.

“Okay, then,” Monq said. “We all have our jobs. Elora, you’re on Farnsworth. Litha, you have hocus pocus duty. I’m working the Baka, Jean Etienne angle.”

“Oh.” Elora looked like she’d thought of something else. “While you’re at it, call the Jeanne d'Arc Unit and tell them to give Glen and Rosie the Charlemagne Suite.” Monq and Litha looked at her with a question mark on their faces. “Ram and I have stayed there when we were traveling with Helm. It’s a two-bedroom tower suite on the Paris side and has a view of the Seine. They reserve it for special guests. Just tell the Operations Manager that Glen and Rosie are coming and that they’re special guests.”

Before bedtime all contacts had been made, agreements extracted, bargains entered into, and schedules synchronized. Naturally, the most intense bargaining was between Litha and Deliverance because, as everyone knows, demons are nothing if not determined to get the upper hand of a deal.

“I just need you to take him to your lair and hide him for a few days,” said Litha.

“First of all, my home is not a lair. It’s insulting for you to call it that. Second, what do you expect me to do with him?”

“Make him watch hours of I Love Lucy reruns. That’s what you made me do.” She pulled in her chin and looked at him as if seeing him for the first time. “In fact, how many people have been subjected to that experience? It could be the origin of the hel myth.”

Deliverance smiled. “Good times.”

“Right. What do you say?”

“I’ll have to think about it.”

“It’s for Rosie.”

“Bargaining with my granddaughter’s happiness is out of bounds.”

“I’m half demon. Nothing is out of bounds.”

“Good point. I’ll do it if you give me the one thing in all creation that I want most.”

“What is that?”

“Time spent with you.”

“Dad, you’re going to make me cry.”

“Not really.”

“No. Not really.”

“Just, you know, remember before Engel?” Deliverance screwed up his face. “Even his name is offensive.”

“I like that his name means angel in German.”

“Whatever. The point is that we used to wander the worlds together. You would shop while I would gas up. It was wonderful, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. It was. I can manage lunch once a week.”

“Three times a week.”

“Twice.”

“Done.”

They both smiled knowing that it was a mutually satisfying deal.

The only thing left to be done was the creation of Litha’s sympathetic magick props. Farnsworth, having willingly entered into the conspiracy with little coaxing required, let her into Falcon’s apartment where she shopped for bits of things to go into her poppet and create a believable target for the family crystal. Nothing that he would miss, of course. A little hair from his comb. The dog ear portion of a page from a well-worn book. A note he’d written to Mme. Bonheur, but thrown in the trash. She shot copies of several photos with her camera, including the one of K Team winning the past year’s Jefferson Unit rugby championship and was satisfied she had enough to create a shadow of his essence.

Before Glen and Rosie reached Paris, Deliverance would have Falcon secured in his lair, Litha would hand the poppet and cloak over to Jean Etienne, and Farnsworth would convince Farthing that the pursuit of love was a far higher good than routine administration.

Elora made one more phone call to the most romantic person she knew, Istvan Baka.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

After Falcon managed to lose Sir Catch and The Order’s current premier tracker, he’d gotten a whister ride to Manhattan then grabbed a cab to the private jet charter at Teterboro. He had no experience arranging for his own travels because the Operations Office had always handled logistics. Because of that lack of experience, he was somewhat surprised to find out that the company never had jets fueled up and ready for walk-ins. After insisting that they make phone calls on his behalf, he learned that there were no other long-range private planes available for immediate hire elsewhere.

“When will you have a ride for me?” he asked the impeccably sleek young woman behind the counter.

“Tomorrow midday. Will that be satisfactory?”

“No. It will not, but it doesn’t look like I have a choice.”

“Sorry nothing is available sooner, sir. How would you like to pay?”

“Cash.”

Falcon expected the clerk to be surprised, but she was not.

She didn’t bat an eye when she said, “That will be $25,632.”

He hitched his bag up onto the counter, unzipped it, counted out stacks of cash and placed them in front of her. The clerk calmly counted the cash, then handed him sixty-eight dollars in change.

“Thank you, Mr. Falco. We have a suite in the hangar that is sometimes used by clientele for layovers. It’s available if you’d like to wait there. You could sleep or watch TV.”

“Sure,” he said.

She handed him a key. “Down this hall, turn right and you’ll run into it. The refrigerator and bar are fully stocked with drinks and snacks. There’s also a number to call for complimentary food delivery. Please make yourself at home until tomorrow. Someone will come for you when we’re ready for departure. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Yes. I’ll need a car to take me into the city on arrival.”

“Very well.” She gave a nod that was somewhere between professional and subservient. “That will be another one hundred forty.”

Falcon handed over the sixty eight dollars he was still holding in his hand, pulled out another hundred, slapped it on the counter and said, “Keep the change.”

He thought the clerk might crack a smile at that, but she did not. She simply nodded.

After pulling the strap of the bag, now somewhat lighter, over his shoulder, he walked in the direction she’d indicated. He supposed it couldn’t hurt to start his quest with sleep in a real bed. He’d been sleeping in a hospital bed in a hallway. And though the popcorn was good film fodder, he wouldn’t mind a decent dinner and the distraction of TV. He’d start out fresh, well-rested and well-nourished, so that he could spend the time in the air planning what he was going to do when he got to Paris.

He didn’t have a plan beyond talking to Genevieve, if not to persuade her to choose him, then at least to make sure she was still certain about the choice she’d made to go with Jean Etienne. He didn’t know what alternative he had to offer if she said no. He just knew that everything was well and truly fucked and that he had to do something other than going on with life as if the catastrophe hadn’t occurred.

The thing that he could never have anticipated in a thousand guesses would be the thing that happened next. Somewhere between New Jersey and Paris, the dashing young knight simply disappeared from the plane without a trace. It would be a mystery that UFO specialists would be examining for decades thereafter.

Glen made the same error as Falcon. Having never arranged for a private jet before, he assumed one would be available, which would have meant Falcon would be in Paris in about eight hours including travel time on the ground.

Due to the miscalculation based on not having all the information, Glen and Rosie would arrive in Paris a full twenty hours ahead of Falcon.

Glen had requested a meeting with the Paris Unit Sovereign at around midnight. Middle of the night meetings were not unusual for vampire hunters since that would be near the beginning of their work ‘day’.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Day One - Paris

The good news was that the pill Glen took worked great. He arrived at the Jeanne d’Arc Unit with no dizziness, queasiness, headache, blurred vision, or other side effect.

The bad news was that Rosie had brought them out of the passes inside the Unit grounds and set off the alarms.

After explaining who they were, how they bypassed security, and presenting verifiable credentials, they were checked in and escorted to the Charlemagne Suite as requested by the Lady Elora Laiken, although they were not told that placement in the premier suite was a special request made on their behalf because, after all, discretion had been part of the request and, if nothing else, the French are consummately accomplished at two things: romance and discretion.

Glen and Rosie had both spent the past few years in environments that would not be considered luxurious by anyone of any standard. So each, in her or his way, appreciated the plush pad with its twenty-foot ceilings, beveled mirrors set in carved paneling, Venetian rugs, and Renoir paintings.

The crystal was quiet so Glen said, “Taking a nap. Knock if you get anything.”

The suite phone rang at four. When Rosie picked it up, she heard Glen’s voice on the line. He’d answered first, so she hung up. In a few minutes there was a knock on the door.

Glen was standing on the other side frowning. “Still nothing?”

“Nothing.”

“Maybe I guessed wrong. About where he was going, I mean.”

“I don’t think so. Let’s give it a little longer.”

“That was Baka on the phone.”

“Oh?’

“He and Mrs. Baka have invited us to join them for dinner. A welcome-to-Paris thing was what he said.”

“So. Are we going?”

“Do you want to?”

“Well, yes. I’ve never been to Paris.”

Glen cocked his head. “You haven’t?”

“No. Why?”

“It just seems like you’re, ah, well-traveled.”

“I probably haven’t seen as much of this dimension as you think.”

He pursed his lips then said, “They want to pick us up at eight. That okay?”

Rosie nodded. “What did he say to wear?” She looked behind her at the armoire in the suite.

“He didn’t say. Wear whatever you want. Who gives a shit?”

Glen stalked away like asking about clothes had set him off, leaving Rosie wondering what had happened.

Rosie opened the bar refrigerator and pulled out some mixed nuts and soda to tide her over until dinner. She ran clothing options in her head and eventually decided on black velvet leggings, a blood red silk tunic with a thin rhinestone belt and black thigh high boots. She pulled her hair up into a messy bun and secured it with a clip covered with diamonds and rubies. It amused her to know that no one would guess the stones in the clip were real and that the sale of the piece would render enough to buy a chateau in the French Alps. They would assume rhinestones to match the belt.

Glen didn’t bother to knock on her door. At eight he just stood in the living room that separated their bedrooms and yelled, “Let’s go. You’re making us look bad.”

Rosie opened the door and strode toward him with a smile. For a second his permanent scowl faltered as he let his eyes wander down to her feet and up again. But without a word, he opened the suite door and walked out, leaving it standing ajar behind him.

Rosie sighed thinking at least he didn’t slam it behind him.

He’d already called the elevator when she arrived at the end of the hall.

“Wonder when they put in an elevator,” she said, making small talk.

“Sometime last century,” he quipped.

“Well, that narrows it down.”

Glen and Rosie walked in silence until they were past the second set of security gates where a limo was waiting, apparently for them.

Baka climbed out of the car. He shook Glen’s hand and gave Rosie a kiss on the cheek. They renewed greetings with Heaven inside the car.

“Where are we going for dinner?” Rosie asked.

“Istvan made a reservation at Le Train Bleu. It’s one of his favorites. I think it’s Rococo hel. It’s gilded, carved, molded, and frescoed to death, but Baka loves it. So what can I do?” She turned and looked at him adoringly, which made Glen hope it would be a very short dinner.

“Poor darling,” Baka said to his wife. “You must suffer through an evening at one of the world’s great eateries. How will you manage?”

Baka grinned when Heaven kissed his nose.

“I can’t wait,” Rosie said. “I’ve never been to Paris before.”

Heaven’s eyes went wide. “Noooo. Eat eez impouseeble,” she said with a French accent, making fun of the fact that the French overuse the word ‘impossible’. Rosie giggled. “In that case,” Heaven continued in her own British accent, “let us make some recommendations of must-see’s.”

Rosie smiled. “I’d love that.”

“How about you, Sir Catch?” Heaven asked Glen. “Have you been to Paris before?”

He glanced at Heaven before returning his attention to whatever was in the darkness outside his tinted window. “Yes, but not for sightseeing,” he said drily.

“For vampire hunting, I suppose?” asked Baka.

Glen met his gaze. “That’s right. Does that bother you?”

“Not at all. Though I’m certain it might if I was still a vampire.” Baka smiled amiably. “I’m sure you’re very good at your job. But of course, these days we do the same work, you and I.”

“Tell me about Le Train Bleu.” Rosie was eager to change the subject. Vampire hunting was not appetizing in the least.

Baka’s smile remained fixed, but somehow seemed to become more genuine when his attention shifted to Rosie. “As my wife said, it is extremely ornate and, I admit, overdone by modern standards, but the historical style is part of its charm.”

“Comes with the territory when you’re married to a relic,” Heaven teased.

Baka pretended to pinch her. “The restaurant is part of the train station built at the turn of the century.”

Heaven interrupted, “He means the turn of the last century. He loses track.”

“Thank you, love,” said Baka. “It’s a national historical monument. The walls and ceilings have forty-one paintings done by masters of the time. Gervex. Saint-Pierre. René Billotte. It’s like dining in a museum.”

“Baka is an artist. Did you know that?” Heaven said.

“No.” Rosie smiled. “I didn’t know that.”

Glen didn’t bother to acknowledge that anyone was speaking.

The maitre d’ called Baka by name and showed them to a corner booth. Heaven sat and scooted toward the wall. Baka sat beside her, which meant that Glen had no choice but to sit close to Rosie across from the vampire and his wife, who was reported to be some sort of strange summoner of everything from goats to vampire. Looking at the couple making kissy faces across the table, he wondered if she also summoned happiness.

Rosie noticed that the room was crowded despite the fact that it probably cost a small fortune to dine there.

The sommelier appeared as soon as they were seated, looking as pleased as if it was his birthday. He allowed his gaze to touch everyone at the table before fixing on Baka. He asked if Baka wanted something in particular. Without hesitating, Baka asked if they still had a bottle of Romanee-Conti.

The man grinned in a way that made Rosie wonder if he got a commission on wine sales. After bowing slightly, he disappeared.

“I hope that’s just for the two of you,” said Glen. “We’re working tonight. Or at least I hope we will be.”

“Of course,” Baka replied. He looked at Heaven. “We can make a splash all by ourselves, can’t we?”

She gave a throaty laugh. “We’re supposed to be working later ourselves.”

“Well,” he said, “then we’ll have to finish dinner with some of their outrageously fabulous coffee which tastes like it was brewed in heaven.”

At that he kissed his wife like they had just procured a room and were alone in it. Glen and Rosie watched the public display of passion, Rosie with amusement, Glen with disdain. When the waiter arrived tableside, he stood waiting politely for some time before clearing his throat.

Baka drew back with a roguish smile when he saw that Heaven’s eyes were glazed and distant. “Haven’t lost my touch,” he whispered loud enough that Glen and Rosie could hear across the table.

“Would you like to see menus?” Baka asked Glen and Rosie.

“Since you know the place, I’m okay with having you order for me,” Rosie said.

Baka looked to Glen who shrugged in reply. Taking that to mean yes, Baka ordered for the four of them.

“Duck foie gras with the crystallised pear. The leg of lamb with gratin Dauphinois. Rum baba with Malagasy vanilla. And espresso after.” Heaven whispered something to Baka, who then said, “Raspberry cheesecake for the lady instead of Rum baba.”

When the waiter left, Glen said, “It’s a good thing our employer has deep pockets.”

Baka smiled. “That is nice. But dinner tonight is my treat. I was hoping for news of American friends.”

“He means Elora,” Heaven said, rolling her eyes.

Baka stared at his wife. “That is not what I meant. I’m curious about all the people I came to know during my transition.”

“Elora is having twins. Had you heard that?” Rosie asked.

“I had heard something about that,” Baka said. “How is she?”

“Ready to pop. She’s huge. And due anytime from what I understand.”

“How is your father?”

“Good, but tired of the knight grind. You know.”

“Indeed I do.”

Heaven leaned toward Baka and said something so quietly that Glen and Rosie couldn’t hear. Baka laughed and then consumed his wife in a series of kisses that made the two of them seem much more like desperate teenage lovers than settled married couple.

When the foie gras arrived, they were still going at it.

Glen tapped the table nervously, not wanting to stare at them, not wanting to look at Rosie, and not wanting to stare at other diners either. Rosie, on the other hand, was rather captivated by the demonstration of married life at its best.

The Bakas pulled apart long enough to feed each other foie gras.

“This is embarrassing,” Glen said under his breath so only Rosie could hear.

“Oh, I don’t know. I think it’s kind of charming and optimistic for lovers everywhere.”

“Optimistic?”

“Yes. It says that married life doesn’t have to be dull.”

“Are you two sharing secrets?” Baka asked.

“Yes,” Glen said. “You should try it sometime. Keeping private things private that is.”

Baka laughed. “Didn’t mean to ruffle sensibilities, old man.”

When Glen stared at Baka like he was dumbfounded, Heaven chuckled and said, “It’s something the cool kids said before the beginning of time.”

Glen’s scowl returned as he stared at the foie gras, thinking it didn’t look edible. Rosie, on the other hand, was gobbling it down and making little low humming noises that got a reaction from Glen’s traitorous dick.

Baka reached for his phone. “Excuse me. I’d hoped we could get through dinner, but…” He paused to frown at his phone. “We’re needed elsewhere. Please stay and enjoy. Order anything else you might want. The tab is settled.” Baka and Heaven slid out of the booth. He nodded at Glen and Rosie. “I hope I’ll get to see you again while you’re here in the city of love.”

“We’re sorry you have to rush off, but thank you for dinner,” said Rosie.

“If I don’t see you again, please give our regards to your family.”

“Of course.”

Heaven smiled at Rosie, “Please don’t think us rude. Duty calls.”

“We understand.” Rosie smiled at her.

Glen remained silent, but watched Baka stop the maître d and say something to him. The maître d nodded in response.

“I hope he didn’t just order drinks on the house and tell that guy that I would pay.”

Rosie looked at Glen like she’d never seen him before. “What’s the matter with you?”

“No idea what you mean.”

“You’re acting like a perfect stranger. The Glen I know would never be ungracious.”

“The Glen you know is gone,” he said, his tone completely void of emotion. “Thought you would have figured that out by now.”

“Are we leaving?” Rosie asked with an unmistakable sadness over the way the evening had turned out. She hadn’t realized that she was enjoying herself until Mr. and Mrs. Baka departed. Then the reality of the fuming thunderstorm that used to be Glendennon Catch settled around her like a shroud made of thick hemp dyed black.

Glen got up, walked around to the other side of the table and slid into the booth seat facing Rosie. “Might as well stay. We have to eat. And it’s free. Supposedly.”

The waiter punctuated the end of that thought by arriving to reset the table for two according to instructions from the maître d’. Glen watched every movement as if he was training for the job. Rosie wasn’t fooled by his feigned interest. She knew he was trying to find something to look at that wasn’t her.

“So,” she said, “tell me what you’ve been doing since I saw you last.”

Glen’s first impulse was to snarl and tell her to fuck off and that, if she’d wanted to know, she damn well could have called, but before the ugliness left his lips he rethought it. Since there was nothing to do while they had dinner but talk, he decided he’d make the best of it.

“Moved around a lot.”

“Oh? By choice.”

“No.”

“Oh. Well, what was it like?”

He let his gaze meet hers, long enough to confirm that her green eyes still had the yellow and brown flecks in them. Long enough to see that she was undeniably the most beautiful creature alive. He hated her for that. He hated himself for making the choice to walk away from her. He hated the life he’d lived for the past five years. And he hated being left alone to have dinner with the last person in the world he wanted to sup with.

He took in a big sigh. “It was awful.”

“I’m sorry. Did you make some friends though?”

He barked out a laugh that indicated the answer was no, just before the lamb arrived. When the aromas reached his nostrils, he suddenly had a hard time remembering why he didn’t want to be there and made a decision that it wouldn’t cost him anything to be civil to Rosie.

“This smells good.”

“It does,” she replied.

In between bites of what was perhaps the best dinner of his life, Glen sketched out a travel log of assignments, leaving out details about the seediness, the loneliness, and the stress of not knowing for certain that the people on his team could be trusted to have his back in a confrontation with vampire.

Rosie listened quietly but intently, trying to hear what was being said and discern what was being left out.

“You want coffee?” Glen asked. “It was ordered.”

“Not really,” she said just before her eyes went wide. She jumped a little in her seat.

“What is it?” Glen demanded.

“The crystal is awake. I guess I’ll have to get used to that.”

Without a word Glen stood and began walking toward the exit leaving her to follow behind him. She didn’t know if people were watching the display of boorish behavior, but she felt humiliated.

Outside on the street, she said, “Do you want to take a pill and wait five minutes or take a taxi?”

Glen reached for the pill bottle in the pocket of his leather jacket. He looked at Rosie when his hand was withdrawn empty. He patted himself down and went through all his pockets, one by one, before finally saying, “Taxi it is.”

Ten minutes later the taxi let them out in the heart of Paris night life.

Standing next to the curb after the taxi drove away, Rosie said, “You think he decided to go dancing?”

Glen shrugged and looked perplexed. It didn’t make sense to him either and he wondered if Rosie’s crystal could malfunction. But they were there so he was going to check it out. “Which way?”

The crystal led them to a cerulean blue building at 13 Boulevard Poissonnière with an alterna-style crowd milling about outside. The sounds of bass-heavy electronica drifted out into the street.

“In here,” Rosie said.

Glen eyed the place. “You sure?”

Rosie cut her gaze at him sharply. “You just see to your own job, Sir Catch.”

He tightened his lips and started toward the door. That was the one of too many times Rosie had seen Glen turn his back on her and walk off. She considered going back to the Paris Unit without telling him, but decided it would be unprofessional.

Inside there was a sunken dance floor and an international crowd that felt reminiscent of the big techno-grunge clubs of London. The place was crowded even though it was early by club standards.

Glen looked at Rosie with eyebrows raised, clearly asking which way. She took hold of the crystal, but shook her head. He grabbed her bicep and leaned down to her ear so he could be heard above the music.

“Stay close to me. I can’t look for him and watch out for you at the same time.”

Rosie laughed with enough derision to be sure he caught the bite and pulled away. “I can take care of myself.”

Glen nodded and turned in a slow circle looking for Falcon, carefully scanning not only the ground floor but the part of the mezzanine that was visible from below. Between the mirrors and the tiny spotlights that moved over the dancing crowd, changing color, size, and direction, he began to feel a little disoriented. He started through the gyrating crowd on the dance floor. Several pairs of feminine hands reached out to beckon him closer, but he gently shrugged each would-be partner away. When he reached the other side without a glimpse of their target, he turned to ask Rosie what the crystal had to say. She wasn’t there.

He started back through the crowd the way he’d come and hadn’t gone far when she came into view. She was dancing, sandwiched in between two guys who looked skungie enough to be on Z Team. His temper shot straight to white hot. Not because she was uber sexy and doing a provocative dance that involved touching in suggestive ways.

If not for the horde of moving bodies between them, he would have stomped over and jerked her away, but progress was as slow as trying to walk in waist-high ocean at high tide. By the time he reached her, he had lost control of his composure and the part of him that was werewolf. Fortunately the music was so loud that only those close by heard the distinct sound of angry canine growling as he passed. They quickly attributed it to imagination or one too many sense-bending beverages and forgot all about it.

Rosie was startled when she felt a strong hand encircle her wrist and yank her away from the pleasurable masculine sandwich she’d been enjoying.

She looked up into Glen’s fury with surprise that quickly turned to anger that was all her own. “Growling?” she said. “Seriously?!? Have you lost your mind?”

“Have you lost yours?” he yelled in response. “You’re supposed to be working.”

“The crystal has gone quiet. He was here, but he’s gone. So I might as well have a little fun.”

“Fun?” Glen looked at the two boys she’d been dancing with in a way that made them both retreat in search of another partner. “When were you going to tell me?” he shouted. “You were just going to let me keep looking all night while you had public sex with strangers? Knowing he’s not here?”

She pressed her lips together. “First, since when do you care who I dance with? Second, if you want to know something from me, then maybe you shouldn’t always be turning your back on me and walking off. I don’t owe it to you to follow.”

“You’re supposed to be working with me.”

“Really? Are you supposed to be working with me?” Glen’s angry panting had begun to slow and he wasn’t showing quite so much tooth when he spoke. When no response was forthcoming, Rosie said, “I’m out of here. I’ll let you know when I have a fix on him again.”

And with that she vanished, leaving him to find his own way back to the unit. Alone. He’d forgotten how much he hated that she had the ability to do that in the middle of an argument.

He left the club still too angry to get a ride. So he walked around for a bit, hood up and shoulders hunched with hands in his pockets. It was a posture that had become familiar to his body. As he walked he began to take a good look at himself and realize that he’d been angry for so long he’d forgotten how to be anything else.

Sometime after midnight Rosie heard the suite door open and close. She looked at the clock out of reflex. She hadn’t been lying awake waiting for him to come in. She just hadn’t fallen asleep. At least that’s what she told herself. She turned over, blinking slowly, calming her mind, and let her eyes close.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Paris - Day Two

Glen hadn’t been able to find the little tin of miracle pills that prevented travel sickness in the passes, so they had to resort to transportation human-style. The cab let them out at Bois de Vincennes, the largest park in the city. They followed a tree-lined avenue then took a meandering path ending at a boat dock.

“Well?” Glen asked.

“Over there.” She pointed to a small island in the middle of the lake with a pillared Grecian gazebo rising on a hill above the grotto entrances.

Glen turned to the man in charge of canoe rental. “What is that place?” he asked in French.

“The Temple of Love,” the man answered. “On Île de Reuilly.”

Glen shook his head and laughed bitterly. Under his breath he said, “Of course it is. Swear to the gods this feels like a set up.” He turned to the man. “Is this the best way to get there?”

“Oui. Which one do you want?”

“Which boat?” Glen looked behind him. The first one that caught his attention said Se Leva on the side.

Seeing Glen’s fixation on that particular boat, the man said, “Oui. This one,” and began untying the rope.

Rosie came up next to him. “Oh. The boat’s named Rose. Cool. It’s a sign.”

“It’s not a sign. It’s a canoe. And Rose is not exactly a unique name.”

The boat renter said something to Glen. “What did he say?” she asked.

Glen sneered. “He wanted to know if I was going to propose in the ‘temple of love’.” He made air quotes.

Rosie simply looked away and sniffed as if she was unaffected by Glen’s spitefulness.

It didn’t take long to get to the halfway point because the lake wasn’t big.

“You’re not going to row?” Glen asked.

“No. You lost the pills. Now we have to get around human-style. So it’s only fair that you provide the power.”

Glen didn’t really mind rowing. It wasn’t hard. He’d just made the comment as an opportunity to be contentious. He stopped and looked around, noticing that the temperature and atmosphere were as close to perfection as it gets this side of paradise. The muscles held in a constant state of tension for years on end were beginning to relax in spite of himself. He didn’t know if that was because of the gentle feel of the air, the beauty of the place, or, gods forbid, the presence of the woman at the other end of the canoe. He batted away the unwanted thought that, if things had turned out differently, the two of them might have been there in that very place, on that very day, enjoying a honeymoon.

“What are you thinking?”

Glen looked at Rosie. “I don’t get out in the daytime often.” He paused. “For obvious reasons.”

“Because vampire are out at night.”

He nodded. “When you think about it, it’s kind of amazing, being able to see far away, knowing if something is coming for you in time to stop it.”

Something in the way Glen expressed that filled Rosie’s soul with sorrow. She was putting bits and pieces together like a puzzle and it was taking shape in a way that made Glen’s life since she’d known him seem like hel.

“Most of us take that for granted. It must be awful having to live your whole life at night.”

Glen didn’t respond. He simply took another look around, picked up the oars, and resumed rowing toward the island.

They stood inside the stone gazebo, turned a full circle, then descended the jagged steps to the grotto beneath the ‘temple’. The natural formation was magical enough to distract them from their purpose for being there temporarily, but not completely.

“I just don’t get it,” Rosie said. “The crystal indicates that he was here. Now he’s not only not here, but it would seem that he’s not anywhere.”

“We’re being punked by your crystal. How am I supposed to report that to the J.U. Sovereign? ‘Sorry. But he’s not anywhere.’”

“We could respond a lot faster if you hadn’t lost your pills. Chasing him the human way puts us at a disadvantage.”

“Well it wouldn’t do much good for me to get within grabbing distance and have to stop to puke on the street either.”

As Rosie looked at the crystal and shook her head, it came to life again. “Got something. If we go the other direction and take the bridge, we can probably get to a taxi faster.”

“Leave the boat?”

“Why not?”

“Because it would be extra trouble for the boat guy.”

“Leave a big enough cash tip in the boat so that he doesn’t mind the trouble.”

Glen seemed to internally debate that solution before weighting some money down with an oar. “I hope marriage-proposal guy finds that before somebody else.” He climbed back out of the canoe and said, “Okay. Let’s go your way. It’ll be under a minute, right?”

“Yes.”

Glen took her hand and placed her fingers between his leather belt and his jeans. “Hold on tight. Don’t lose me.”

She tightened her grip on his belt and smiled sweetly. “This time I won’t, but the next time you turn your back on me and walk off, expect me to do the same to you in the passes.”

Glen parted his lips to say something, but before he got the chance to form a retort, he was plunged into the passes. They emerged on the left bank of the Seine.

“Still got a signal,” Rosie said. “Can you move?”

Glen was leaning over with his hands on his knees. He shook his head vigorously. Without thinking, Rosie put her hand on his back and patted in a way universally understood as comfort-giving.

“What are you doing?” he growled.

She jerked her hand away. “Sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

By the time he raised his head and said, “All right. Let’s go,” the crystal had dimmed and gone quiet.

“Too late. He’s gone.”

Glen took out his phone, typed out a text then put his phone back.

“Reporting?”

He shook his head. “No. Telling Monq to overnight some more of those pills.”

“Oh. Good idea. How are you feeling?”

“Halfway to okay.” He looked around to get his bearings. He knew the center of Paris well enough to figure out where he was visually. “Left bank.” Something seemed to get his attention. “I guess you’re hungry.”

“Yes. How did you know?”

He smirked. “Because you’re always hungry unless you just ate.”

“Oh.”

“See that?” He pointed at people sitting on the bank of the river with pink balloons in front of pink pizza boxes.

“People eating pizza?”

“I heard about this. It’s Pink Flamingo Pizza. You get a balloon with your order, then you can park your ass somewhere along the walk and they’ll find you by bicycle delivery. Pink bicycles.”

“Pizza sounds good.” Glen smiled before he remembered he was supposed to be mad.

He quickly changed his expression but not so quickly that Rosie didn’t notice. “You know, if you’re having to work so hard at being angry, maybe you should stop.”

He looked into Rosie’s face and thought about what she’d just said. She was close enough that he could see the few faint freckles on her nose. He used to love those freckles.

She expected him to bury the hatchet, but the past three years all he’d had to hold onto was misery. Somewhere along the way it had become a part of him, a side that was admittedly shadow, but necessary for survival. Letting go would mean leaving a hole where the misery had been residing, a vacuum. And everyone knows that nature abhors a vacuum. It would rush to suck in unknown things to fill itself up including some that could tear your heart out and leave it shredded. Like love.

He stopped a guy going by on one of the pink bicycles and ordered pizza. They got a pink balloon and strolled along the river until they found a good place for people-watching. Glen had to admit that the city looked different when seen from the point of view of a person who wasn’t hunting for vampire. It was beautiful and, he supposed, probably as romantic as some claimed.

Since the crystal was quiet, the two of them sat and ate pizza in silence until a guy walked by smoking a cigarette, wearing combat boots, white Jockey briefs, and a Nine Inch Nails tee shirt. When Glen looked at Rosie’s face, he couldn’t hold in the laugh that bubbled up any more than she could keep from laughing with him, but within seconds, he remembered that he didn’t laugh, at least not in mirth, and looked away.

“You want to go back to the Unit?” she asked.

“The pattern so far is, when he shows up, it’s around here. So it makes more sense to stay in the city center until we’re tired.”

“Okay. Sure.”

They walked along the river at dusk until they came to a place near one of the famous bridges where couples danced the tango by portable music. Glen bought two cups of wine from a hole-in-the-wall vendor and they sat at a table where they could watch.

Rosie was clearly fascinated by the sensuous movements of people in everyday street clothes performing the dance of passion next to one of the most famous rivers in the world.

“Glen,” she said without looking away from the dancers, “Paris is wonderful.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “It is.” That was a revelation. Even though he’d spent months in Paris, he’d never thought it was all that. Before.

“Don’t you wish you could do that?” she said, still staring transfixed.

“Do what?”

“Dance the tango.”

“I can,” he said offhandedly like it was no big deal.

She looked at him with wide eyes. “Shut up.”

“No. Really. I went on a couple of dates with a teacher of el tango when I was in Buenos Aires. She taught me the basics.”

“The basics.”

“Uh huh.”

“Prove it.”

He cocked his head. “That’s a challenge because you don’t believe me or because you want to try it. Which is it?”

“Which answer will get me to yes?”

“Come on.” As he stood, Rosie was amazed to see his body transform into the attitude of the dance. Drawing a slow arc in the air with a straight arm, he extended his hand to pull her from her chair.

“Oh my,” she said, as she put her hand in his.

He put her left hand on his shoulder then spread his right hand between her shoulder blades.

“It’s mostly about attitude,” he said. “Pretending sensuality gets you halfway there.” He guided her through some basic steps and within minutes they were dancing. “You’re a fast learner. Not that I didn’t already know that.”

“That can’t be a compliment, can it?”

She was sounding a little breathless. He didn’t know if that was from the dancing or the contact, but he knew his own feverish feelings were coming from having the bane of his existence in his arms. He cursed himself for revealing that he knew tango and agreeing to the dance. It was chipping away at his armor. When he realized that, he stopped abruptly and stepped away.

“Let’s get a taxi. Falcon’s not out, but the vamps will be soon.”

She dropped her hands. “Okay.” The word conveyed more disappointment than she’d intended, but she had been enjoying herself. Why pretend otherwise?

Rosie lay awake pondering the question of whether or not it was possible to love two men. Her heart still hurt for the one she’d lost, but after five years she couldn’t quite picture his face anymore. She questioned herself about whether or not she’d ever stopped loving Glen and concluded that she hadn’t. He wasn’t just her first love. He was a permanent part of her. It was pointless to deny that, but it was also pointless to want to rekindle something that she’d killed.

Glen was finished with her. He’d made that clear.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Paris - Day Three

Glen was in the Unit mess talking with some of the Paris knights when Rosie came rushing in.

“Time to go?” he asked.

She nodded. “Did your package arrive?”

“Not yet.”

They hurried to the Operations Office to get a car and driver on the double. Using the crystal, Rosie directed the driver straight to the largest park in Paris. They got out and ran in the direction indicated by the crystal until they came to a wall.

“What is this?” Rosie asked, then looking down she said, “Damn. He’s gone.”

Glen was staring at the wall. “I heard about this place. Le mur des je t’aime. The wall of I-love-yous.”

Rosie looked up. The wall, which was the length of a short city block, was covered with I-love-yous written in every language in every alphabet. “Wow. That’s a whole lotta love.”

They hung around the park until evening then ducked into a sidewalk café for a late lunch or early supper. During the day Rosie had made stops at a crepe truck, an ice cream vendor, and a roasted chestnut vendor. Glen didn’t see how she could possibly be hungry, but she said she was.

The weather was beautiful even as the sun went down. Rosie pulled a shawl out of her bag and wrapped it around her shoulders. It was more for fashion than necessity and also helped her blend in.

As they were deciding whether to head back to the Unit, the crystal weighed in and led them to the Palais Garnier, the famous old Paris Opera House.

Rosie read the marquee. “The ballet. Falcon’s gone to the ballet? Alone? You’re right. The crystal must be broken.”

“Well, we’re here. We might as well go in and see if he’s here. If he actually sits down to watch, it might be our best chance to make contact.”

“We can’t apprehend somebody in the middle of the ballet.”

“One step at a time. Let’s find him first. Then we’ll decide what to do.”

Glen went to the ticket window and discovered that two mezzanine seats had been turned back in.

“That almost never happens,” said the cashier. “You’re very fortunate.”

Inside the booth, but out of sight, Jean Etienne handed the cashier a large bill for her part in delivering the tickets to the right party. She put it in her purse and, when she turned back to thank him, he was gone.

“We’re going to the ballet?” Rosie asked.

“Yes.”

She stopped and grabbed Glen’s arm. “Oh, shit! We’re going to the ballet!”

“What’s the big deal?”

“What’s the big deal?”

“You’ve never been? In your life?”

“I’ve never been in my life. And I’m wearing jeans and a Free People thing.”

Glen looked at her clothes. “You look fine.”

“It’s ballet at the Phantom of the Opera House.” Glen chuckled whether he wanted to or not. “Shouldn’t I be wearing an evening gown?”

“No. People don’t do that anymore. Look around.”

She did. People were dressed in street clothes which made her relax a little, but didn’t quell the excitement in the least.

“It’s Romeo and Juliet,” she said.

“I know. I saw.”

“Only it’s contemporary times. They’re doing it in modern clothes.” She pointed at the posters.

“Yep. Jets and Sharks.”

“What?”

“Nothing. What does the crystal say?”

“Oh.” She pulled on the chain to bring it out of the bodice of her Free People thing. “It’s gone quiet.”

“What?”

“Yeah.” She frowned.

“Well, we bought these stupid tickets so we might as well do this until you get another signal. I still think the blasted thing is broken.”

Whenever Glen looked over at Rosie during the performance, he could see that she was riveted. By the last scene of the last act, wherein Romeo kills himself, Rosie was gripping the arms of her chair with tears streaming down her face. Minutes before the end, Glen pulled her up out of her seat, took her hand and led her out of the theatre, onto the street.

“What’s this about? It’s not like you didn’t know how it was going to end.” He reached up impulsively to wipe her tears away.

“You don’t want to know.”

He dropped his hand to his side. “I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want to know.”

Studying his face in the dim light, she thought she detected honest concern, something she hadn’t ever expected to experience again. A commotion drew her attention away when people began pouring out of the opera house.

“Let’s walk,” she said, turning south toward the river. Glen kept pace with her, letting her choose the direction. She faced forward as she began to speak. “I asked Kellareal for a place to go where I could…” she paused, but continued walking, choosing words carefully, “where I could try to figure things out without people pushing and pulling.”

“Who was pushing and pulling?”

“Well, Dad for one. When he found out what I’d said to you, he was livid. I hated that he was mad at me and didn’t know how to respond. But more than that I hated that I was a disappointment to him.”

“He said that?”

“Not in so many words, but the message was clear enough. You know, he’s Black Swan to the marrow. So Kellareal agreed to help me locate a retreat. He took me to a dimension where somebody owed him a favor. They were a subspecies of hybrids he’d rescued and kind of adopted, I guess. I learned to work.” She looked over at Glen for a second and smiled. “I tended bar.”

Glen didn’t try to hide his disbelief. “You did not.”

She laughed. “I did. What’s more surprising, I liked it. No. I loved it. Even the mindless sweeping, polishing, washing glasses part. All of it.”

“Wow.”

She took a deep breath. “I came to care for one of them. And he died.”

Glen stopped walking and went as stiff as a board. “You’re telling me you fell in love?” Even though it wasn’t spoken, Rosie heard the whole question with her heart. What he was really asking was, “You’re telling me you fell in love with somebody else?”

Rosie screwed up her face. She wanted to be truthful, but didn’t want to be responsible for hurting Glen more than she already had. “I was very attached and prepared to be committed. It would have been impossible not to respond to someone who thinks you’re everything.” Glen winced, feeling the emotional bite of that even if it hadn’t been intended that way. “He needed me and I loved being needed.”

It started to rain lightly. After a couple of seconds Glen put his arm around her shoulders and guided her under the awning of a sidewalk café for shelter. For a long time they stood there in damp clothes, silently watching the rain fall all around them. The streets had instantly cleared of people and, sheltered as they were, even though temporarily, it felt like they could have been the only two people alive.

Finally Glen said, “How did he die?”

“In battle. Trying to rescue his younger brother who’d been taken prisoner.” In an even quieter voice, she added, “I saw it.”

“You mean you saw him die?”

“Yes.”

He sighed. “Sounds hard.”

“Yeah,” was all she said.

“Rosie, regardless of what happened between us, I don’t want you to think that I didn’t need you. I did. Believe me, I’ve told myself thousands of times that, if I had a do-over, knowing everything I know now, I would have stayed with you.”

Rosie looked at Glen sharply, her eyes shining in the darkness. “Don’t ever say that. You were the one who was right! I was the one who was too young for a relationship.” Her shoulders sagged because she feared Glen had been torturing himself, believing he’d chosen wrongly and she hated that she’d been the cause of so much grief. Words from the past echoed in her mind and she found herself saying, “Don’t you get it? If everybody who could kill the monsters stayed home, where would we be then?”

There they stood in a swirling eddy of emotions that touched briefly on understanding, empathy, even forgiveness, and time seemed to slow down. Rosie felt the connection they’d both once taken for granted slide back into place and click like a high end star-chamber lock. When she raised her face to see if Glen felt it, too, he was turning away and stepping out into the street.

He’d hailed a passing cab and was motioning for her to come as he opened the car door. Glen gave the driver the address of the Jeanne d’ Arc Unit.

When they were settled inside the taxi, Glen reached for his phone which lit the darkness. Rosie looked over and saw that it was a text from Farthing, but couldn’t read it.

FARTHING: Falcon is in custody. Transport will be available for return midday tomorrow. The Paris Unit will provide two knights to accompany you.

GLEN: Acknowledged.

Glen put his phone in his jacket pocket. “They have Falcon in custody and ready for transport back to J.U. tomorrow. They’ve allocated two knights from this unit to make the trip.” He gave a wry smile. “I guess they don’t want to take any chances on me losing him again.”

Rosie said nothing. She simply turned and watched the passing scenery out the window. By the time the cab pulled up outside the massive gates of Jeanne d’ Arc Unit, the rain had stopped.

Glen paid the driver and gave his code to the guard at the gate.

After slipping through the side door reserved for pedestrians, Glen and Rosie walked the rest of the way in silence. When they reached the suite, Rosie hesitated, standing in the large center room that was shared by suite occupants. Glen brushed past her on the way to his bedroom.

“Glen.” He stopped, but didn’t turn around. “Do you think we…?”

He turned his head far enough that she could see his profile and said, “No,” before continuing to his room and closing the door behind him.

Regardless of the discomfort of wet clothes and a chill, she didn’t correct the discomfort or move from that spot. For some time after she’d been left alone she continued to stand there mulling over what had happened. For a moment, under that awning, she’d been foolish enough to think there was a chance of starting over. If she hadn’t ruined their chances by instigating the physical separation, she’d done so by letting it drag on unresolved for years. Or when she confessed that she’d had feelings for someone else. It seemed there was an endless supply of ways to hurt Glen and pursue self-sabotage at the same time.

The next morning, after a night with a lot of thinking and little sleep, Rosie got up early. During the hours since Glen had walked away with a definitive, “No,” she’d decided that it was pointless to make the trip back to J.U. Glen and the other two knights didn’t need her to help return Falcon and every minute with Glen burned a bigger hole of grief into her solar plexus, knowing what she’d lost and that she’d done it to herself. And worse, to him.

She packed her bronze-tinted, polished taffeta backpack, wrote a note for Glen, and left for Edinburgh. The preeminent tracker had use of an apartment at headquarters, a nice perk. She’d determined to throw herself into the job, figure out other ways of tracking besides relying on a temperamental crystal that worked intermittently. She’d find out what else needed doing and lose herself in the blessed distraction of work. If it was work that ended up benefitting someone, she’d be satisfied, if not happy.

Rosie wasn’t the only one who’d spent a sleepless night. Glen had tossed and turned and rolled and whipped himself and the bed covers into a tangled mess. In the darkness his mind saw Rosie closing her eyes and making yummy sounds as she tasted the Rum Baba at Le Train Bleu, looking like a Renoir painting in a rowboat with the Temple of Love hovering above her in the background, reading the Wall of I Love You’s like it was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen, watching the tango dancers with the transparency of an unclaimed lover who wanted more than anything to be consumed by passion, and shedding tears over a lost attachment, tears so powerful that the clouds opened up and cried with her.

He wondered if she’d thought about him over the years apart and, if she had, why she’d never called. He also wondered why he hadn’t asked her that. He’d certainly had opportunity.

He made a decision that he was going to get up early, order a lavish breakfast to be served in the suite, and before they left Paris, ask her that one simple question. Why hadn’t she called? Just on the off chance that her answer might be something he could live with.

Feeling good about that plan, he set the alarm and drifted off to sleep.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

Paris - Day Four

He grabbed the alarm when it went off. He didn’t think it would wake Rosie, but he wanted to have everything ready before she woke up. Kind of a surprise-I’ve-decided-maybe-I-don’t-hate-you-as-much breakfast.

He called the kitchen, then showered and dressed quickly.

When he emerged from his room to wait for breakfast to arrive, his gaze went first to the door of the other bedroom standing open, then to the handwritten note propped up and left on the dining room table.

Glen.

It was so good to see you again. You don’t need me to get Falcon back to J.U. I’d probably get in the way. Please take care of yourself.

Rosie

He crumpled the note in his hand.

Gone again.

Only this time he knew he had no one to blame but himself. She’d tried to reopen a line of communication between them, indicated that there might still be something there, and he’d shut it down every time.

He’d thought his pride was more important than what he really wanted. That thought brought him up short.

What did he really want? And the answer was as clear and definitive as a lightning strike. He wanted Rosie. He’d never wanted anything more, not even knighthood. For four days she’d been standing a breath away, demonstrating that reconciliation wasn’t beyond his reach. In fact, it would have been easy. All he had to do was accept the gift being offered. But he’d been so caught up in thinking he wanted to punish her that he’d blown what might have been his only second chance. Four days in Paris with the woman he loved and he’d wasted it.

Standing alone in the main room of the Charlemagne Suite with a crumpled note in his hand, he said out loud, “Which one of us is being childish now?”

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. He assumed it was room service and opened the door to tell them to give breakfast to the dogs, but it wasn’t the kitchen staff. It was two of the Paris Unit knights letting him know that the car was ready to take them to the plane where they’d be taking responsibility for Kristoph Falcon until he was handed over at Jefferson Unit.

“Who has him now?” Glen asked in French.

The one named Frederique frowned slightly, but answered, “We weren’t told that.”

Glen said, “I’ll get my stuff.”

On the drive to the hangar The Order used for Paris transportation, Glen sat silently looking out the window, devising a plan for another chance with Rosie. As soon as Falcon was taken care of, he’d be taking some well-deserved leave to go on a knightly quest. Only it wouldn’t be vampire killing. What he’d be hunting was potentially so much more satisfying. A happily ever after.

The car pulled to a stop on the tarmac next to the jet that waited with steps lowered, beckoning passengers to board.

After exiting the car, the three knights waited, trading curious glances and looking around for some sign of their assignment.

Within a couple of minutes Deliverance popped onto the scene holding Falcon by the bicep.

The two knights who were unaccustomed to being around people who could pop in and out both jumped and reached for their chests reflexively as if to protect their hearts.

Glen looked from Falcon to Deliverance. “What are you doing with my runner, Gramps?”

“Don’t call me that, Choker,” Deliverance sneered. “What do you think? I’ve been keeping him occupied so that you could have a few days in Paris to win my granddaughter back.” He looked around. “I take it by her absence that you blew it. Again.”

Glen’s jaw clenched. “This was a set up.”

“More like an opportunity to get your head out of your ass. How’s that going for you? I’m thinking you’re still preoccupied with smelling poop.”

“Who else was in on this?”

“Everybody who cares about you, shithead. And her. I can tell by the look on your face that opportunity knocked and you told it to go fuck itself.”

Glen motioned to the Paris knights to take Falcon on board.

“Wait a minute.” Deliverance stopped them. “I promised this kid that he’d get to talk to the vamp if he behaved himself and stopped calling Lucy stupid.”

“Who’s Lucy?”

“Not dignifying that with an answer.”

“Which vamp does he want to talk to?” Almost immediately a wave of understanding replaced confusion on Glen’s face. “Oh.”

Deliverance opened his mouth to answer, but before he spoke, Jean Etienne popped onto the scene with Genevieve.

Falcon started to take a step toward her, but Frederique jerked him back.

“Gen.” Falcon wanted to say more, but he was so overcome with emotion his throat closed up making swallowing hard, much less speaking. She looked different. Her skin was truly flawless. If she had pores, they were invisible. Her hair was brighter. The natural caramel highlights had turned a brighter shade of red. Her eyes weren’t the ice blue of virus infected vampire, but they weren’t brown anymore either. They were somewhere between a light hazel and amber. She almost seemed to give off light, like a visible aura, and looked more like a goddess or a human who’d been airbrushed by nature.

“Hello, Kris.”

Falcon struggled for a minute, but found his voice. “How are you?”

“I’m well. But this is more about you. For all our sakes, you need to go back to work and get on with your life. Forget about our friendship. My time in the human world is over forever, but yours is not. Go home. Know that I’m happy and making an adjustment.”

“An adjustment?”

Her smile was so glorious it almost brought him to his knees, but she also deliberately showed her very white and very pointed fangs. “I’m well cared for and learning new ways of doing things. I probably won’t see you again after this, but I wish you the very best, as I always have.” She glanced at Jean Etienne. “I hope you will allow yourself to find someone to love. Even if this hadn’t happened, it would never have been me.”

Falcon was trying to decide what to say when the vampire couple disappeared. As the knights pulled Falcon away, Deliverance said, “So long, kid.”

They boarded the plane. Glen took one last look at Deliverance before putting his foot on the first step.

“What are you going to do now?” Deliverance asked him.

Glen stopped and looked back at Rosie’s grandfather. “I’m going to get her back.”

Deliverance smiled as he watched Glen go up, but before they had pulled the steps in, he was gone.

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

Rosie decided to pay her mother a quick visit before moving into the headquarters apartment in Edinburgh.

When Litha emerged from her bedroom in the Jefferson Unit apartment, sleepy-eyed and dressed in a flannel robe, Rosie had been sitting at the kitchen table waiting for four hours.

“Tea?” Rosie asked. “The kettle’s hot.”

Litha shook her head. “Coffee.” She headed straight for the pod brewer and said nothing more until she was holding a cup of Kona blend just under her nose, smelling the aroma and letting the steam touch her face. She sat down at the table in front of Rosie and waited.

“I’m moving into the apartment at Edinburgh.”

“Oh?” Litha was deducing that meant that Paris hadn’t gone as well as she and her co-conspirators had hoped.

“Yes, but first I thought I’d stop by for a bit of orientation.”

“What do you mean?”

“Hit me with tracker tips. Tell me if the crystal came with a warranty. Stuff like that.”

“A warranty.”

“Yes. The blasted thing works when it wants to, which is seldom. Made me look like a fool at best and like I’m really bad at tracking at worst. And maybe I am.”

“What happened in Paris?”

“I was supposed to locate Falcon so that Glen could bring him back here for debriefing. The French vampire found him first.”

“I see. So how was it seeing Glen after so long?”

Rosie shrugged. “He’s changed.”

“And?”

“Not for the better.”

“I see.”

“I think I’m responsible for the change that’s not for the better. I feel guilty. And my heart hurts. I think I ruined him.”

“I see.”

“You keep saying, ‘I see’, like you’re the all-seeing eye.”

“Do not be disrespectful to your mother.”

“Okay. What else have you got in your bag of tricks for use tracking?”

“The demon crystal is usually your best friend. I showed you how to get into my magick room at headquarters. If you’re looking for something unusual, not a person or creature, you can ask ancestors on your witch side. They’ll help if they approve of the likely outcome and your motivation.

“Sometimes you have to get creative. But Rosie, you’ll be a hundred times better than I ever was. You’ve got talent off the charts.”

“If you say so.” Litha smiled. “Everybody’s mom thinks they’re the best.”

Litha shook her head. “If that was so, the world would be a better place. Sadly it’s not true. Fortunately for you, it just so happens that your mom does think you’re the best. Especially when you wear that look you’ve got right now, so much like your father.”

It never failed to make Rosie smile that her mother took so much pleasure in seeing bits of Storm reflected through her. “About the apartment in Edinburgh.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Is there anything you want? I’d kind of like to make it mine. You know?”

“Let me get dressed and I’ll go with you. There might be some photos. Stuff like that. Anything else you want to tell me about Paris?”

Rosie zeroed in on her mother, who raised her coffee cup and blinked a little too innocently as she underestimated her daughter’s deductive skills. “You didn’t.”

“What?”

Rosie slumped back and chuckled at the ceiling. “Of course. It all makes sense. Baka and Heaven making out like horny adolescents at that outrageously romantic restaurant?” Her eyes widened. “The Temple of Love? The wall of I Love Yous? The tango? Romeo and Juliet? The pink flamingo pizza?”

“Pink flamingo…?”

“Gods. Could you have been any more obvious? I guess that makes us both look pretty stupid because we didn’t figure it out, huh?”

“Well…”

“Whose idea was the suite?” Rosie held up her palm. “Wait. Let me guess. Auntie Elora.” Litha closed her mouth. “Who all was in on it?” Litha pressed her mouth into a line. Rosie’s mouth dropped open into a full-blown gape. “The crystal! How did you get the crystal to behave all wonky?”

Litha couldn’t suppress a little smile of pride. “Well…”

“You’ve been a bad, bad witch. You’re not supposed to use your gifts like that and you know it.”

“Now listen here, young lady. As far as I’m concerned, trying to give you and Glen another chance to figure out that you belong together? I can’t think of any possible use of magick that would be better.”

“Promise me that you will cease and desist.”

“All right.”

“I’m serious. No more magickal meddling in my love life. Promise!”

“I promise,” Litha grumbled.

“Gods.”

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”

Rosie stared at her mother for several beats before pensively saying, “Yeah.”

Falcon was allowed to return to his apartment. He was also allowed freedom to go anywhere within Jefferson Unit, but not outside. He’d been fitted with a bracelet that looked a lot like a Fitbit watch except that, it wouldn’t come off without special equipment kept under state-of-the-tech lock and key and it made Falcon easily trackable, every minute of the day, by the Sovereign, Dr. Monq, or anyone who possessed one of the tracking devices housed at the quartermaster at J.U.

“There,” said Monq when the bracelet locked around Falcon’s wrist. “There’ll be no more running about until you and I have sorted out your feelings about what’s happened and what you plan to do with the rest of your life.”

“You can’t hold me prisoner.”

“Hmmm. Well, perhaps you didn’t read the fine print of your contract with The Order. We can do exactly that, if you want to call premises-restriction ‘being held prisoner’. You’re in possession of too many secrets to go off half-cocked.”

“Say what you want, but I do have a whole cock.”

“Well,” Monq chuckled, “your sense of humor is intact and that is very encouraging. The sooner you and I get started sorting out what’s going on in your head, the sooner you can get on with the rest of your life, whatever that may be. When do you want to get started?” Falcon shrugged. “Very well. Be here for dinner at seven o’clock. And don’t be late.”

The rest of K Team was glad to have Falcon back, not for active duty, but back in the sense of alive and well and living at J.U. even if temporarily. They were also concerned, but not so much so that humor was out of the question.

Wakey said, “I’ve heard the phrase ‘crazy in love’, but you’ve taken it to a whole new level of unhinged, my man. Like I keep telling you, there are more girls than you could ever do and you’re the lucky son-of-a-bitch who’s wanted by every one of them.”

Falcon was patient with his best friend and let him prattle on, but Wakey was coming from the perspective of a person who’d never been in love. In short, that meant he had no idea what he was talking about.

On the flight across the Atlantic, Glen came up with the perfect backdrop for his do-over. He devised a way to kill two birds with one stone, meaning that he would get Rosie back and take a stab at calming the ever present, underlying storm in his soul at the same time. It was brilliant even if he did think so himself.

After Glen and the French knights had turned Falcon over, Glen had gone straight to Rev’s office and asked for time off.

“We’re in the middle of a crisis,” Rev said.

“I know, but I haven’t taken leave for years. Since I’ve been a floater, I didn’t even take grief absence when there was a death. Just buried people and kept on keeping on. Since I don’t have family, I haven’t taken holiday leave either. That means I have time off coming. Actually I have a lot coming, but I’m only asking for a month. For now.”

“A month.”

“Yes.”

“Starting when?”

Glen looked at his watch. “An hour ago.”

“Funny.” Rev sighed. “I don’t guess you want to tell me what’s so important that it has to be done right now?”

“It’s personal. Sir.”

“Of course it is.” He blew out a big breath then pulled up his calendar. “You’ll be back a month from today.”

“Unless I put in a request for an extension, yes.”

“Don’t put any effort into trying to make this easier on me,” Rev said, each word dribbling sarcasm as only the Sovereign could do. “All right. Be in my office one month from today ready for a new assignment.”

“Unless…”

“Unless I receive a formal request for extension at least forty-eight hours before.”

Glen grinned and left before Rev could either change his mind or begin adding more qualifiers and conditions.

Rosie breezed into Simon’s outer office wearing striped tights and a sage green silk shirt that made the green of her eyes pop like high beams. His executive admin, Margaret, an institutional fixture at Headquarters, was on duty. She looked up and smiled.

“Go on in,” she said.

Rosie heard voices on the other side of the door. When she stepped inside, Glen’s head swiveled toward her and he immediately got to his feet actually looking like he was happy to see her. And something else. Nervous maybe.

“Glen, what are you doing here?”

Simon answered for him. “This is your next job, Tracker. You’re cleared to help Sir Catch with his project for as long as he needs you. Now I hate to hand you your hats and show you the door, but I have things pressing. So…”

Glen managed to drag his eyes away from Rosie long enough to say, “Absolutely. Thank you, Director.”

Simon nodded.

Glen opened the door and waited for her to pass through. “We can discuss my, ah, project…” He looked around. “How about in the mess?”

Rosie looked completely confused. “Okay.”

Glen moved toward the outer office door, again he opened it and held it for Rosie, smiling.

“Wow,” she said, as she passed by. “Holding the door for me? Hel must have frozen over.”

“That’s what I heard,” he said, still smiling.

“What’s this about?”

“Let’s talk about it over coffee. We could do it in your apartment if you prefer.”

“No.”

“You know I stayed across the hall from you for about six months.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. When I was still a trainee. It was before you were born. Elora needed a dog sitter. Blackie and I were muy sympatico. So she got permission to bring me along.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I have great memories of being here. I spent my off time talking to people in every department about arcane stuff that wouldn’t interest most folks. One of the best times of my life.”

The version of Glen who was talking about good memories was so much like the old Glen Rosie had known that it made tears prick at the back of her eyes. She sniffed and turned her head away, but Glen’s werewolf senses picked up on the shift in mood and he heard the sniff.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“It’s not that something is wrong. It’s actually a great thing that you seem so much like yourself. Your old self, I mean.”

“Not the asshole you ran around with in Paris?”

She stopped and looked at him quizzically. Then at the same time they both said, “We’ll always have Paris.” Surprised by the synchronicity, they stared at each other for two beats and then simultaneously erupted into laughter.

When Glen had been babysitting Rosie while Litha was looking for Storm, they had watched the entire list of AFI’s one hundred best movies of all time in order. The famous line from Casablanca had popped into both their heads at the same time.

When the unexpected burst of laughter faded, Rosie said, “What’s this about, Glen?”

He responded by taking her elbow and gesturing toward the mess. The big room was practically empty at that time of day. Within seconds of sitting down at a quiet corner table, one of the wait staff was there to take their coffee order.

“So?” she asked.

“I need a tracker and I hear you’re the best. As a perk of being a long time and faithful employee of The Order, I get use of the resources on request. In this case, that would be you.”

She was curious, but made sure her face didn’t give anything away. “What do you need to track?”

“Help me find out something about my family. Who they were. Where they lived. Why I ended up in foster care. You know, that kind of stuff.”

Rosie’s expression softened when she realized what he was asking. “Yes. Of course.”

He gave a half nod toward her chest and smirked. “You get that crystal fixed?”

“Yes. It’s fine now. Good as new. I may want to consult with a couple of people about the best way to proceed.”

“Okay. How much time do you need?”

“Do I have a time budget?”

“Sort of,” Glen said carefully. “I didn’t quit. Just took some time off.”

“I’ll see what I can find out today and let you know tomorrow.”

“Okay. Well, it so happens I’m in town overnight with nothing to do. Want to go to dinner?” Rosie was so unprepared for that, she just stared and blinked. “Blink once for yes. Twice for no.”

She blinked. “Great.” He stood up. “Seven o’clock. I’ll find something fun.” She parted her lips to object, but it was evident that his hearing was going to be highly selective. “Later.”

He rushed away before she could say no. Which made her smile.

Rosie took the elevator to the sublevel that archives shared with research. The girl who looked up when she approached the first obstacle to research looked like a casting favorite for librarian. She was cute but studious with a ponytail, glasses, and no makeup other than red lipstick.

“Hi, I’m…”

“I know who you are, Ms. Storm. You’re practically Order royalty.”

Rosie frowned. “Wow. Well, I don’t know exactly what to say to that.”

“What can I do for you?”

Rosie looked around wondering what might be offered other than research. “I was thinking research.”

The girl smiled. “This desk is where the adventure begins. You might say I’m the face of research. At least today.”

“Oh. Good. I need an intensive background on Sir Catch. Sir Glendennon Catch. Not his record with The Order. I need to reconstruct a complete bio, pick up a trail that leads to before he was placed in foster care.”

The young woman sat up straighter. “I have to admit that’s a new one. Not the sort of request we get every day. Or ever. I’ll find somebody who can run it down. How soon do you need it?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

She barked out a laugh, then quieted when she saw that Rosie wasn’t smiling. “You’re serious. Well, all right then. Let me see who might be able to put something aside.”

“Thank you. You know I didn’t mean to be rude, but I got sidetracked during introductions. What’s your name?”

“Aggie Praetorius.”

“Ah. Good name for a sentry.”

Agnes rolled her eyes. “Like I never heard that one before.”

“I’d like to meet the person who will actually be doing the research. Is that possible?”

Aggie ducked her head and giggled. “You sure?”

“Is there something I should know?”

“Well, the person I was going to ask doesn’t exactly have good social skills.” She looked around, leaned toward Rosie and whispered, “Aspergers.” She looked behind her again, then nodded. “I can introduce you, but I’m warning you that you need to be thick-skinned.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because there’s no brake between the brain and the mouth. He could say or do anything.”

“I see.” Rosie almost kicked herself. Ever since her visit with her mother she’d been saying, ‘I see’ even though she thought it sounded daft coming from her.

“You’ve been warned. It’s up to you.”

“Yes. I’ll take my chances. I think I can manage someone who is, um, straightforward.”

Aggie huffed out a laugh. “Straightforward,” she repeated. “Come around.”

She motioned for Rosie to walk to the end of the counter where there was a waist-high swinging door.

They walked through a maze of hallways with little offices staggered on each side so that the open doorways faced walls. Aggie stopped at one the size of a medium cubicle. It had an L-shaped desk with four large flat-screen monitors. In front of the monitors was a bespectacled young man wearing powder blue pajamas with yellow Sponge Bobs in the print.

“Here you go,” Aggie told Rosie like it was a joke. “X. This is Ms. Storm.”

He glanced over, pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose, and turned back to his work saying, “I told you I don’t like to be called that.”

“Sorry, Xavier. I need you to put what you’re doing aside for the time being and help Ms. Storm.”

“Put this aside?” He sounded incredulous.

“Yes,” she answered.

“Impossible.”

“No. It’s not impossible,” she said mocking patience. “It’s quite possible. I have to get back to the front. Do your job and help the nice lady.” Aggie looked at Rosie. “You think you can find your way back out?”

“I’m supposed to be the resident tracker. If I can’t find my way out of the basement, I should be fired.”

Aggie nodded. “Agreed. See you.”

She retreated the way they’d come leaving Rosie alone with her assigned researcher.

“So, Xavier. Can I sit down?” There was a small side chair wedged into the corner. Xavier looked at the chair and nodded. “I need to construct a history for a knight who was placed in foster care at a young age. Can you help me find out something about his parents?”

“Who is it?” Xavier asked without looking at Rosie.

“Glendennon Catch.”

“The werewolf.”

Rosie was a little surprised that Xavier knew who Glen was. “He’s actually a quarter werewolf. Or at least that’s what we think. Do you know all the knights by name?”

“Yes.”

“Well, that’s impressive. There are a lot.”

Xavier shrugged. “Where was the foster care?”

“Seattle.”

Xavier’s hands flew over the keyboard. The Order didn’t house all the data in the world, but there wasn’t anything anywhere that researchers couldn’t access, with or without permission. Records came up on the screen along with a photo of a very baby-faced Glen that pulled at Rosie’s heartstrings. It appeared to be an intake picture for documentation purposes. Rosie impulsively reached toward the screen, but snatched her hand back when Xavier spoke.

“He was two.”

“Two,” Rosie repeated, mulling over all the implications, that he really had no memory of family loving him, ever.

“There was a car crash,” Xavier said. “Killed the parents. Didn’t even injure him. The name embroidered on his blanket led them to his birth certificate, but the case went cold there. The parents didn’t have ties to family. The father didn’t have a birth certificate that they could find. The mother had papers, but they were fake.”

“Fake,” Rosie repeated.

“Yeah.” He nodded without looking away from the images quickly passing by on the screen, which were mostly text.

“How old were they?”

“Pretty young. He was twenty-four. She was twenty-two.”

“Were they married?”

“Yes. They were working at a fishing lodge on Lake Quinalt.” Xavier typed ridiculously fast and images flew by. “Makes sense.”

“What makes sense?”

“If our guess about Catch’s heritage is on the money, one of the parents was half werewolf.”

“Go on.”

“Halvies can express traits in unpredictable ways. It’s not uncommon for a half werewolf to be able to shift and mimic being a full bred werewolf.”

“So Glen’s mother or father would want to live in or near the rain forest.”

“Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding.”

“Okay. Smarty pants. What else you got?”

Xavier shocked her by having a giggling fit over her use of the term smarty pants. When he calmed down, he pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose and said, “Do you like Sponge Bob?”

“Um, honestly, I don’t know. What is it?”

“What is it?” Xavier looked like the question was a personal affront. He turned back to the search in a huff. “No. That’s all there is.”

“What about the name of the lodge where they were working?”

“Lake Crescent.”

“People who were working there at the same time as his parents?” she pressed. Xavier didn’t reply, but continued to look busy. After a couple of minutes, Rosie said, “Okay, Xavier. Give me some help here. Should I ask the question again?”

The printer came on behind her.

“The list is printing out,” he said.

“Oh. Thank you.”

She started pulling sheets out of the tray and reading through. Of the people who had worked at the lodge when Glen’s parents were there, there were three who appeared to be alive. Xavier had provided current info on all three including where they lived at present, where and how they were occupied, and so on.

“This is perfect, Xavier.”

“Can I get back to work now?”

“Can I get print outs of pictures of his parents?”

Xavier rolled his head and attacked the keyboard. When photos came out of the printer, Rosie grabbed them.

“Now can I get back to work?” he asked, sounding out of patience.

“Yes. It was nice to meet you. Oh, one more thing, just for my own curiosity. How did The Order find out about Glen?”

“You know, just like always. School test results are reported from everywhere. Anything unusual draws attention.”

“And he was unusual.”

“Duh. You know him, right? He’s smart. I mean, not like me, but pretty smart just the same.” He grinned. “You could call him smarty pants if you want.”

Rosie smiled. “Okay. I might do that.”

She said goodbye to Aggie on the way out and went back to the apartment she was trying to remake into hers, but still felt like her mother’s with a couple of stops along the way. She grabbed coffee from the coffee service in the lobby and had the barista blend a custom concoction that involved coffee with squirts of crème brulee and classic syrup.

She also stopped to text Glen.

ROSIE: Where are we going? What should I wear?

GLEN: The Witchery.

ROSIE: OMGS. I’ve never been! What are you wearing?

GLEN: What do you want me to wear?

ROSIE: Sponge Bob pajamas.

After a long pause without a reply from Glen, she typed again.

ROSIE: Wait. In case you’re out trying to find Sponge Bob pajamas, I changed my mind. I’m thinking concert tee, combat boots, jockey briefs (white), and don’t forget a Marlboro cigarette behind your ear.

Glen smiled when he read the second text, remembering the guy from Paris.

GLEN: I’ve got an idea. How about jeans and a leather jacket.

ROSIE: lol So. The uniform. Ok.

Inside Litha’s secret room, Rosie set some unscented votive candles in a circle around the ancient dragon that occupied the center of the room. She took a few more sips of yummy sweet coffee, then set the cup down before dragging a big floor pillow into the circle of candles.

She went through the preflight magick checklist even though her demon blood meant that she probably could have skipped it with the same result. She sealed the circle and erected mystic barriers that would protect her from interference by trickster elementals or misguided devils like djinn. When she was certain that her preparations were sound, she closed her eyes and summoned any available ancestor who was competent and wanted to help.

She closed her eyes and almost immediately found herself standing in a landscape of treeless hills undulating in varying shades of green underneath a cloudy sky. The land was unmarked by the ravages of technology and over-population.

A woman turned to face Rosie and smiled at her affectionately. She was so much like Litha that it was startling and, in fact, Rosie would have thought that it was her mother except for the pale skin and auburn color of her hair. Same green eyes. Same wild hair. Same air and expression.

She was wearing a long dress that whipped and billowed in the wind, with ribbons in her long hair that swirled out and around her like a fantasy painting.

“I’m Lapis.”

“You look like my mother,” Rosie said.

The woman smiled. “More truly, she looks like me.”

“I give you that.” Rosie thought it was pointless to ask if they shared blood. While it would have been entirely possible for a variety of creatures to adopt a glamour that would mimic the appearance of one of Rosie’s kin, her inner sight would have detected such a deception easily. “Thank you for coming.”

Lapis nodded and waited.

“I’m on an errand for a friend…”

Lapis laughed. “A lover, you mean.”

Rosie came up short, not knowing exactly how to answer that. “In a way. Someone who has been a lover in the past.”

“Go on.”

“I want to help him learn what happened to his family. He has no one.”

Lapis looked at Rosie as if she was being indulgent. “Blood ties are important, but they’re not everything. Your young man has rejected people who love him and chosen to dwell in darkness.”

Rosie considered the truth of that. “He did, but now he’s reaching out.”

Lapis paused for a minute then showed Rosie a phantom-like figure of a handsome man with long braided hair and sharp intelligent eyes with a striking similarity to Glen’s. The effect was like projecting a movie onto a wall during the daytime. Rosie could see the man going about his business, but the scene was transparent enough that she could also see the background of rolling green hills behind it.

She walked toward Rosie and whispered, “Ashenabe”, just before she faded and became part of the wind. The sound of the wind lingered for a second after Rosie’s eyes jerked open.

“Thank you, Grandmother,” Rosie said out loud. “I don’t know which generation of grandmother you are, but thank you.”

Rosie hastened through the ritual of undoing the circle she’d created, doused the candles, returned the floor pillow to its place, locked up, and practically ran to find Xavier in research.

She waved to Aggie. “Don’t mind me. Just passing through,” she said as she rounded the counter and passed through the half door.

Xavier was still at his station.

“Oh, thank goodness, you’re here.” He didn’t bother to respond or look up. “I need you to find references to the word Ashenabe. It could be a person, place, or thing.”

“I’m busy.”

“Well, I know you are, but this will only take a minute.”

“Busy means busy.”

“Okay, Xavier, let’s make a deal.”

That got his attention. He looked up and narrowed his eyes. “What kind of deal?”

“What do you want?”

“You mean like three wishes?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Pick one thing.”

He looked around. “I want a VIP pass to Comiccon in Brussels. Hotel. Limo. The works.”

“Done.”

“Really?” She nodded. “How do I know I can trust you? Never mind.” He pulled an eyeball camera over, turned it on, and adjusted it so that it would record Rosie, then accessed sound studio recording software. “Now. Look at the camera and swear. Just be natural. You’ll do great.”

Rosie shot him a look that said he was getting stranger by the second, but faced the camera.

“I hereby promise to provide Xavier…” She looked at him, waiting for him to provide a last name.

“Puddyphatt.”

Rosie hesitated, but began again. “I hereby promise to provide Xavier Puddyphatt with transportation, hotel, and VIP tickets for Comiccon Brussels in exchange for useful information.”

“Excellent,” he said as he swiveled the camera away. “What was it again? Ashenabe?”

“Yes.”

Xavier typed something and said, “It’s a werewolf tribe. They have a reservation in British Columbia.”

“Werewolf tribe,” she repeated. “Yeah. That’s it! Thank you, X. You did great.”

“Don’t call me that.”

She paused. “You know, when people call you X, it’s because they like you and they’re trying to express fondness.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Okay. Later.”

Rosie looked at her watch. It was after four. She had less than three hours to find something to wear and get ‘cleaned up’.

Glen hadn’t indicated that it was anything more than friends having dinner, but she wanted to look her best regardless.

She exited the passes in the London Harrods designer dresses section and practically ran right into the dress. She almost laughed out loud because it was the perfect thing and she knew Glen would love it. Just the right combination of chic and hip.

It was a Moschino Smoking Lips mini dress, black virgin wool, with long sleeves and a figure-hugging silhouette, £365. She paired it with a Saint Laurent red leather biker jacket, £2,550, a black Saint Laurent wallet clutch, £950, and black Gianvito Rossi stiletto ankle boots, £560. It was a lot of money, but her salary was generous and with an all-bills-paid job, she could buy what she wanted. Of course, she could have just manufactured her own knocked off replicas, but Kellareal would somehow know and then she’d have to listen to the lecture about not misusing her abilities coupled with the lecture about the importance of keeping the economy flowing for the benefit of everyone.

She visited the makeup department and found a SUQQU red lipstick that matched the reds of the jacket and dress with the added feature of glowing in the dark. Plus, she figured, you couldn’t go wrong with a lipstick brand that sounded like ‘suck you’.

Back at the apartment she laid her purchases out on the bed and admired them while she ran a steamy bath. Glancing at the time, she remembered to use unscented products because Glen’s sensitive werewolf nose didn’t appreciate artificial scents.

She dozed off in the tub and woke with just fifteen minutes to wrestle her wild hair into submission and get into the outfit that she hoped would make her look and feel pretty. He hadn’t said if he was picking her up at her apartment or meeting her downstairs. She didn’t have to wonder long because the door chime rang. Taking one last look in the full length mirror, she pulled open the door.

Glen’s face made the shopping trip so much more than merely gratifying. He looked her up and down and let out a long low whistle.

“Wow. Were you expecting somebody else?”

Her responding blush thrilled him all the way down to the carpet because he knew she’d gone to some extra trouble. For him.

He stepped back so she could exit, then after she closed her door, he reached down, took the red leather jacket from her hand and held it for her to put on. The gesture was such a contrast from the way she’d been treated when they were hunting for Falcon that she grinned.

“What’s funny?” Glen asked.

“Nothing. Well, actually. No. Nothing.”

“Come on. What were you thinking?”

“That I like gentleman Glen.”

He looked over at her as they strolled down the hall toward the elevator. “I was a dick, wasn’t I?”

She smiled. “I’d like to argue, but yes.”

“Yeah.” He looked dejected and she felt responsible for ruining the mood.

“Hey,” she said. “Let’s pretend that we haven’t seen each other for years. Hi, Glen. How have you been?”

He smiled. “Lousy. Miserable. Wretched. Forlorn. Heartsick. Lonely. Bereft.”

“That’s all?”

“I could go on.”

Rosie knew that he was telling the truth and that the honesty of their time apart was part of the new leaf he’d turned over. “There’s always tomorrow.”

“Wait a minute. We haven’t gotten through tonight yet.” She laughed. “Maybe I can turn things around.”

Rosie was stunned by that outright declaration, but it answered the question about whether dinner was a date or a business meeting.

Glen smiled warmly and pushed the elevator button.

“So,” she said as she stepped into the elevator, “seven is kind of early for dinner out. Does this mean you’re getting old?”

His smile grew even warmer. “It means I have something else planned for after dinner.”

Images sprang to Rosie’s mind. As she imagined what that might be a flush rose in her cheeks to complement the reds of the dress, jacket, and lips.

Glen laughed. “I wasn’t thinking that, but I’m definitely receptive.”

“So what is it we’re, um, doing after dinner?”

“Nuh-uh. It’s a surprise.”

“You know I’m not that into surprises.”

“Sure you are. Everybody likes surprises when they’re good ones.”

“And you know I’m going to think it’s a good one?”

With hands in his pockets, he leaned into her space and gave her a conclusive, “Yes.”

Rosie was glad to see the car was waiting just outside the front entrance. In tennis shoes The Witchery would be an easy fifteen minute walk, but doing it in stiletto boots would take all the fun away.

Glen helped her out of the car at the door to the restaurant. She heard him tell the driver that he would text a few minutes before they were ready to be picked up. Inside Rosie quickly realized that The Witchery was every bit as beautiful and magical as people said it was. As they were being shown to their table, she noticed women’s eyes lingering on Glen a few seconds too long to qualify as casual interest and she was glad she’d gone to some extra trouble to dress like it was an occasion.

She ordered Loch Duart salmon. He ordered Cairngorm venison. They shared some truffle mac and cheese and topped it off with Tonka bean crème brulee with white chocolate palmiers.

With Glen relaxed, open, making eye contact, and appearing emotionally engaged, they quickly fell into a rhythm of dialogue that felt familiar.

“You look like a million bucks tonight.”

“I’m glad you think so because that’s pretty close to what this cost,” she said, looking down at her clothes.

“No matter how much it cost it was worth every penny.”

“Ooh. That was extra rich and creamy smooth. Have you been practicing lines since the last time I saw you?”

“Seriously. No. It came out that way because it’s what I really think.”

“In that case, thank you, Sir Catch.” She mouthed the ‘Sir’.

Conversation between them was easy. They shared their individual reactions to realizing that Paris was a set up.

“So how did they fool the crystal?” he asked.

Rosie cocked her head. “I was so busy trying to process the fact that so many people had thought it was okay to meddle in our business that I didn’t get the details.”

“How many is so many?”

Rosie laughed. “I didn’t get that either. But you know that, if Mom is up to mischief, Auntie Elora is always in the middle of it.”

“I think his holiness, the great Reverence Farthing was in on it, too. Had to be.”

“If he was, then add Farnsworth. It’s unlikely that Dad and Uncle Ram didn’t know, even if they didn’t participate.”

“Deliverance. And Jean Etienne.”

“Baka! And Heaven!”

“Gods. What do you think made them do it?”

“Mom said all those people thought we belong together,” Rosie answered honestly.

Glen nodded slowly, eyes glittering. “Always liked your mom. Wise and smart. Very smart. Also crafty.” He took a sip of coffee and, noticing Rosie’s flush of embarrassment, decided to change the subject. “So. Name the best dinner you ever had in your life.”

Rosie looked around. “This one, of course.”

“All right.” Glen rolled his eyes. “Silk shouldn’t call the vampire killer extra rich and creamy smooth.”

The waiter came up just as Glen said that. “Vampire killer? Like Buffy?” he gushed. “I love Buffy. This summer I’m going to California to take the Buffy tour. You know Torrance, Santa Barbara… I can’t wait. You’re Americans, right?” They both nodded. “Have you taken the Buffy tour?” Rosie and Glen both shook their heads no. “Well, you should. I hear it’s great! I own all the DVD’s. Watched them thousands of times.” He gave a small sigh before remembering where he was and recomposing himself. “I’ll be right back with your check.”

When he left they both broke into a grin and laughed silently.

“I don’t know why I’m laughing,” Glen said. “There’s nothing funny about vampire.”

“No. But there’s something funny about waiters who are saving their money to travel halfway around the world for a Buffy tour.”

“Okay. So ask me.”

“Ask you what?”

“Best dinner ever.”

“What was your best dinner ever?”

“Pink Flamingo Pizza.”

Rosie’s eyes widened. “Why?”

“I think that was when I first started to realize I was kidding myself about getting along without you. So, no matter what we say about all those nosy people not minding their own business, it worked. At least for me.”

Rosie’s beautiful bow lips pulled into a captivating smile. “For me, too.”

Throughout dinner she felt torn about whether or not to tell Glen she had information about his family and maybe a lead on someone who was still alive. She didn’t want to withhold, but she didn’t want to ruin the evening either, especially since he’d clearly gone to some trouble and had expectations, or hopes, for the way things would go.

She’d folded the photos of Glen’s parents and put them in her purse, just in case the time felt right at some point. It was a tricky and sensitive subject.

She watched Glen pull out his phone and text.

“Just letting Remy know we’re ready for him.”

“Are you ready to tell me what’s next?”

“So impatient.”

“Give me a hint.”

“All right. You’re going to get a chance to work off some of that crème brulee.”

Rosie blinked. “We’re going to a gym?”

Glen laughed as he stood and held out his hand. “Come on.”

Remy was standing next to the car waiting to open the door for her. They drove south on Pleasance for just over five minutes and then turned into the University of Edinburgh.

“This is getting more mysterious by the second,” Rosie said.

Glen chuckled. “You’re gonna love it.”

When the car stopped, Glen said, “It’s a short distance. Over there.” He pointed toward the buildings arranged around a green in the shape of a U. She looked at the old stone walkways and looked at her heels.

“I don’t know,” she said. “Do you have the pills?”

“No. I can either carry you or you can meet me over there via poof travel. But first, you won’t need your purse thingy or the jacket. Remy will look after your stuff.”

“Remy?” she said, leaning down so she could see his face.

“Yes, madam,” he replied.

“Are you taking responsibility for my ‘stuff’?”

“Yes, madam.”

She left her purse and jacket in the backseat, smiled at Glen and vanished.

Glen made it to the spot where she waited in less than a minute.

“So now are you going to tell me what we’re doing here?”

He took her hand and led her into the building at her back. As they neared the doorway where Glen was obviously headed, she heard music and saw the poster. The Edinburgh Tango Society.

She came to a full stop and grinned. “No. Way.”

Glen returned her grin and gestured toward the door. “This. Way.”

“Tango in Edinburgh. Nothing will ever surprise me again.” The room was large and had a wood floor. It was apparently where dance was taught at the school. “You know this dress was not chosen with tango in mind, right?”

Glen looked down. “If I grab your thigh and hitch your knee over my hip, I’ll make sure you’re pulled tight enough that no one will see panties.”

“What makes you think I’m wearing panties?” She giggled when he almost stumbled. “So this is why we were having early dinner?”

“Yeah. At eight they dim the lights and the DJ starts playing musica in tandas con cortinas.”

She looked at her watch and started to say it was eight. “It’s…” Before she finished the thought the lights went down and the sultry tones of tango began surging through the sound system like a magical audio aphrodisiac.

“It’s not as romantic as the Seine, but…”

“Shhh. It’s so much more romantic because this time you want to do this. With me.” She looked up. “Don’t you?”

“Gods yes.”

He took her right hand in his left and extended her arm then flattened his palm against her back between her shoulder blades. It wasn’t an erogenous zone, but between the low lights, the music, the nearness of her partner, and the musky scent that she’d known intimately as uniquely Glen, she nearly swooned.

His face was inches away when he began to move, guiding and controlling. He brought her even closer and spoke to her in low tones, so close that she could feel his breath, sometimes on her face, sometimes in her ear, which sent her body into overdrive and meant she wasn’t having to pretend sexual intensity.

“The tango is mostly walking, but doing it like you would if you were stalking prey, like you wanted to sneak up on them so that by the time they knew what you were after, it would be too late. Every muscle is tense while pretending laziness at the same time. It’s sexy. Sensual, but it’s also playful and vibrant.” He stopped to show her how to spin and come back to his embrace then showed her how to fall into him, trusting that he would catch her. “I will always catch you,” he whispered in her ear.

Something about that hit a nerve. She stepped back suddenly and pushed at his chest. “You’ll always catch me? Just a few days ago you were letting doors slam in my face.”

He dropped his chin and looked straight into her eyes. “Give me a do-over. And I’ll do the same for you.”

She searched his face and saw the sincerity. “You better mean it.”

“I do.”

“Or I’ll drop you in the passes.”

He chuckled. “I’ll be good. I promise.”

She stepped back into him and they began to dance. “How good?”

“If you want to find out you’re going to have to do something about all that red, red lipstick. It’s gorgeous on you, but I have a feeling it wouldn’t look that good on me.”

“You’re saying you want to kiss me?”

“Oh. Yeah.”

Rosie felt everything that was capable of clenching clench in unison as a response to that declaration. She looked at his lips, remembering that he was an awesome kisser and decided that was exactly what she wanted, too.

“You want to go?”

“Only if we’re going to be at least this close,” he pulled her in tight, “wherever we’re going next.”

“So you want kisses and tightness?”

Glen narrowed his eyes. “This isn’t a demon negotiation, is it?”

She laughed. “No. But now that you mention it...”

He twirled her around and leaned back so that he was balancing most of her weight. It was so intimate that it was almost like having sex in public.

His breath blew in her ear when he said, “You have me at a disadvantage. You could ask for anything you want.”

“Anything I want?” Rosie asked, her voice sounding far away even to her.

“Anything.” He grinned as he dipped, showing her how to balance her weight on one leg while the other slipped between his.

“Let’s go,” she said.

He stood up abruptly and noticed that Rosie’s face was as flushed as the smoking lips on her dress.

“I’ll meet you at my place,” she said.

“What? Wait.”

“I’m going to get the lipstick off. If it will come off,” she added. She pulled him over to the side of the room, where they wouldn’t be noticed. “Don’t forget to bring my stuff. Okay?”

“Well,” he began, but she was gone. He said under his breath, “I guess that’s what happens when you fall in love with a demon.”

At least he wouldn’t have to make up some story for Remy. Employees of The Order were used to unusual occurrences. Thank goodness.

Twelve minutes later Glen was knocking at Rosie’s door.

When she answered, he held out the clutch bag and red leather jacket. She grabbed them and threw them over her shoulder before pulling him in for a kiss. She was still wearing the dress, but she was barefoot with lips free of lipstick and moisturized, and she’d let her hair down.

Glen kicked the door closed as she shoved his leather jacket off his shoulders. He plunged his hands into her wild hair and grabbed both sides of her head so that he could plunder her mouth exactly the way he’d wanted to for all the years they’d been apart. When he pulled back he said, “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” she said breathlessly.

He pulled her in for another kiss and started maneuvering her toward the bedroom at the same time.

It was at that moment she realized she needed to tell him what she’d learned about his family. She owed it to him to not have him wait unnecessarily for another day.

“Stop. There’s something I have to tell you.”

Glen looked confused. “What?”

“Um, let’s go sit down.”

“What?” he repeated.

“You want coffee?”

“No. I don’t want coffee. I want you. In bed. Under me. Right now. What’s going on that’s more important than that?”

“I found out some things about your family. I didn’t want to interfere with the nice night you planned, but I don’t think I ought to keep it from you any longer. If you find out tomorrow that I knew something and didn’t tell you, well, it wouldn’t be the best premise for starting over.”

Glen stared at her for a few beats. Everything about his demeanor changed. “You have grown up.” She remained quiet, not really thinking that warranted a response. Glen ran his hand through his hair. “Am I going to want coffee?”

“Maybe. Or whiskey?”

“That bad?”

“No. It’s just information, not bad news.”

“Coffee.”

“Won’t take long.”

Glen sat down at the little table for two and watched anxiously as she padded around the tiny galley kitchen making two coffees.

After a few minutes they both had steaming cups sitting on the table between them. Rosie had gathered the pages that she’d taken from Xavier’s printer, along with the photos she’d carried in her purse.

Glen looked wary and anxious with a touch of sadness thrown into the mix. His eyes were fixed on the pages she held in her hand.

“You survived a car crash when you were almost three, but your parents didn’t. I have their pictures, if you want…”

Glen reached over and took the photos from her hand, then looked at them like he’d found the holiest relic of myth and legend. She watched as he reverently ran his thumb over the replica of his mother’s face.

“The authorities tried to find your extended family, but the investigation led nowhere.”

“What do you mean?” He looked up then shook his head. “They didn’t have any family?” Rosie hesitated and Glen picked up on it. “The guy in research says your mother’s ID was counterfeit. Maybe she had family and didn’t want to be found.”

Glen stared at Rosie with his eyes out of focus, like he was far away and trying to process that. He looked down at the photo of his father. The resemblance to Glen was noticeable.

“And what about…?” His voice sounded a little rough.

“Same thing. The ID had been manufactured.”

“So it wouldn’t be something like witness protection because the IDs would be real.”

“Yeah.” Rosie nodded. “They were working at a fishing lodge on the edge of a national park in Washington State. We found some of the people who worked there at the same time.” She handed him the other pages. “We could go look them up. Maybe ask them if they remember your parents?”

Glen didn’t respond other than to read through the information once, then twice, then three times.

“There’s something else,” Rosie said.

Glen’s head jerked up, a tiny spark of hope in his eyes. “Tell me.”

“I had a brief encounter with, um, a departed loved one.”

“Departed? You mean dead?”

“Bluntly put, yes.”

He shook his head. “I’m beyond being surprised at anything. What did the departed say?”

“She showed me a vision and gave me a name. Ashenabe. The quirky guy in research told me Ashenabe is a werewolf tribe in British Columbia. It might be my imagination, or wishful thinking, but I thought there might be a family resemblance.”

Glen’s lips parted and hope, not just a vestige but full-blown hope claimed his face. He stood up. “We have to go there.” He looked at his watch. It was nine o’clock. “What’s the time difference?”

Rosie opened her laptop and typed in a search. “Seven hours earlier. That’s two o’clock in the afternoon there. You got your pills?”

He grinned, reached inside his jacket and produced a little rectangular tin, which he rattled as a response.

“Wait a minute,” she said, then put her hand to her forehead. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of this. Well, I do know why I didn’t think of it. I lost faith in Granddemon’s crystal because I thought it was misbehaving in Paris.” She was wearing it simply because the safest place for it was around her neck. She pulled it out and looked at it. “I need to change clothes and you need to take a pill. What do you want me to wear to meet your family?”

When Glen looked at her she could see that question had made his eyes red with unshed tears and she wanted to envelope him in a cocoon of the love and nurture that he’d missed growing up. She reached for his hand, wishing she could turn time back and make up for every slight and deficit, but knew that wasn’t possible. All she could do was love him in the present the way he’d always deserved to be loved.

The move to Edinburgh had been her practical approach to moving on with her life, when she’d believed Glen had shut down possibilities in Paris. When he turned up with reconciliation in mind, it hadn’t taken much to convince her that he was worth a gamble. She’d already been primed and was more than ready.

“Never mind,” she said, squeezing his hand. “I’ll find something.” She started to get up then said, “Oh. I’ve got one more thing.” She reached for the last photo. She walked around to Glen’s side of the table and leaned over so they could look at the photo of him as a toddler together. “Is that not the most precious thing you’ve ever seen?”

Glen stared at the photo for a full minute with Rosie’s face next to his shoulder. When he turned toward her, they were barely more than an inch apart. His eyes immediately went to her lips for a split second before he covered her mouth in a kiss that was part relief, part gratitude, and part devotion. He pushed back his chair and pulled her onto his lap without ever breaking the kiss.

She pulled back and smiled. “You want to get reacquainted first?”

He chuckled. “I can’t believe I’m going to say no, but when we get ‘reacquainted’, I want to be focused on that and just that. Right now I can’t think about anything except the fact that I might have a relative out there who, ah…”

“Who wants you.” She finished the sentence.

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“Okay. I’m changing.”

“Not too much,” he said playfully.

It was both wonderful and weird how quickly Rosie had begun feeling comfortable with Glen. She hoped he was serious about another chance for them because, at the moment, she couldn’t imagine wanting anything more.

The place where they were headed was roughly the same latitude as Edinburgh. So she reasoned that the temperature would be much the same, give or take precipitation, humidity and wind variables. She didn’t really have to worry about being too cold or hot because she could direct her body to control its response to externality, but she didn’t want to wear a yellow polka dot sundress to a blizzard either.

So she wiggled into some dark blue skinny jeans that had enough give to be comfortable, a white long sleeve tee for an under layer, and a forest green cashmere Henley. She topped it off with an Irish wool infinity scarf that was a camouflage print in the same value of green as the Henley, on a tan background. She realized she didn’t have any hiking boots, so she went into her closet, turned off the light, closed the door, and wished hiking boots into existence, giving Kellareal a silent and not completely insincere apology.

When she came back into the kitchen, she found Glen still holding the photo of his mother. It made her breath catch, but she summoned a bright smile.

“I’m ready. How about you? Has your pill kicked in?”

He looked her up and down and didn’t miss the boots. “Yeah. You look… good.”

She cocked her head to the side. “You sound surprised.”

“No. I’m just nervous.” He pulled her onto his lap again. “When I started this, it was just an excuse to get to work with you again and show you that I’m done being…”

“A dick.”

His head came up and he met her eyes. “I was going to say clueless. I thought this was a good way to insure a second chance because I know you’ve got a soft heart. I knew that, if you thought it was for a good cause, you wouldn’t turn me down.” He put his face in her neck and sniffed. “You smell so good.”

She pulled his face up so that she could look at his expression and read him. “You’re going off topic. You started this hunt for your family to get a second chance to work with me, but…”

“But I didn’t think you would really find something. I feel thrown for a loop. I’m, I don’t know. Scared?”

Rosie melted at that. “I’m going with you. And I’ll always catch you.”

Glen hadn’t expected that kind of declaration so soon. He figured he might have to spend years earning her trust back. “You promise?”

“I do. Now, are you ready?”

“Kiss me first.”

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

They stepped out of the passes in an old growth forest on the edge of a partially cleared settlement with log buildings that blended well enough with the surroundings to probably be invisible by satellite.

“All good?” Rosie asked Glen.

He grinned. “Modern pharma. It’s magic.” He looked around and took a big breath to steady his nerves. “So. This is the place?”

“Crystal says yes.” He slanted a look in her direction. “No. It’s working. Really.”

They both froze when they heard a growl behind them, deep and rumbling as a distant thunderstorm.

“Move slowly,” Glen said so quietly it was almost a whisper. Rosie did as she was told, turning around at the same speed as Glen, not faster or slower, though she was prepared to make a flaming shish kabob of the growler if necessary. They faced a very large wolf, over two hundred pounds, whose lips were drawn back from his extremely impressive teeth.

“My. What big teeth you have.” Her Auntie Elora had told her stories when she was growing up.

“Rosie. Let me do the talking,” Glen said while trying to keep his lips from moving, as if that was the thing that would calm the creature.

“Okay. Go ahead.”

He thought she was being a tad too flippant, all things considered, but then again, she probably didn’t really understand fear. At least not fear of being harmed bodily.

After a few seconds thought, he said, “Take me to your leader?”

Rosie almost fell down laughing, which did cause the wolf to stop growling. His ears also pricked forward from curiosity. “Take me to your leader? That’s the best you could come up with?”

She took a step toward the wolf. “Look. We’re here on family business. He’s one of you.” She pointed at Glen. “I would have thought somebody with a snout that big would have figured that out.”

“Rosie! Insulting the werewolf is probably not the best strategy here.”

The wolf had stopped snarling. He’d raised his nose and was sniffing the air in Glen’s direction. In a display of magic that was impressive even to Rosie, the canine body stretched and reshaped into human form in one fluid and effortless movement. Before them stood a perfectly beautiful, and quite naked, man.

“I do smell something familiar,” he said to Glen. “Who are you?”

“That’s what I’m here to find out. I don’t know who my family is, but either my mother or father was connected to this place.”

“What makes you think that?”

“I made him think that,” said Rosie.

The handsome werewolf, who appeared to be in his early thirties, took time to appreciate how Rosie looked from the perspective of two-legged form. Rosie noticed the man’s coloring was very similar to Glen’s and his eyes held the same mixture of menace and amusement. Though she tried to direct her attention away from his muscular form, she couldn’t help noticing that, even in the cool weather, he was endowed like Glen as well.

“I’m Hunter.” He gave Rosie a grin that would have to be described as wolfish. “And you are?”

“Taken,” Glen said.

Hunter looked at Glen and raised an eyebrow. “Maybe you are one of us.”

Rosie turned toward the settlement and pulled the crystal from under her tee. “That way,” she said.

“She’s my tracker,” Glen said to Hunter.

Hunter smiled at Rosie again. “Something we have in common.”

Since Glen had warned the wolf off and he was persisting, it was time to be more insistent. So he released his own surprisingly loud growl.

Hunter was so startled he took a reflexive step back then laughed out loud. “Message received. What’s your name?”

“Glendennon Catch.”

Hunter’s smile faltered as surprise danced over his face, but he quickly recovered the cocky facade. “I’m right behind you.” His upright form collapsed into his wolf and he bumped Rosie’s hip with his nose.

Glen snarled again which made Hunter crouch on his front feet and wag his tail like he was a puppy wanting to play. Glen looked at Rosie. “Weird.” He motioned toward the buildings and said, “After you.”

People looked on with open curiosity as Hunter followed Glen who followed Rosie right through the middle of the cluster of log buildings toward a smaller one off to the side. Smoke was curling from the chimney, which was a good indication somebody was home. She turned to Glen. “That’s it.”

He stopped at the base of the two steps that led up to the porch. “I’m not sure what to ask.”

She nodded. “Talk with your heart.”

He thought that advice was as good as any. So he climbed the steps, knocked softly on the door, and stepped back. Rosie saw that Hunter had followed. He was keeping his distance, but also keeping an eye on the two of them.

The door opened to reveal the man Lapis had shown Rosie in the vision. He was much better looking than his phantom self and the family resemblance seemed more pronounced in full color.

The man took his time looking Glen over before saying, “Who are you?”

“Glendennon Catch. I’m following a lead, hoping to find someone who can tell me about my family.”

The man’s eyes grew a little misty just before he grabbed hold of Glen and pulled him into a crushing bear hug. Glen was too surprised to move.

Rosie was riveted by Glen’s reception, but was jolted out of her preoccupation when a deep voice close to her ear said, “Looks like you came to the right place.” Hunter chuckled.

Rosie said, “Why don’t you go find some pants?”

He sniffed the air close to her body. “Not human. Witch?”

“Partly. If you want to know more, get dressed first.”

He grinned. “Modest? Or shy?”

“Neither. I’m committed to a jealous man.”

He laughed. “All right, but I have to say that a lady asking me to put pants on is a novel experience.”

“I’ll bet.” Rosie turned her attention back to what was happening on the porch.

She wished Hunter would have been quiet so that she could have heard what was said between Glen and the man in the doorway. When she looked that way again, Glen was pointing at her, then motioning for her to join him.

“Come in, young woman,” said the man. “Let’s have some coffee and figure this out together.”

“Rosie,” Glen said, “this is Deep.”

“Hello,” she said.

When they stepped inside the cabin, they saw an old woman sitting by the fire who appeared to be in her late seventies, a striped wool shawl over her shoulders. She was smiling, but said nothing.

“This is Emma,” Deep said. “My wife.” Rosie and Glen both reacted noticeably, but tried to cover their surprise for fear of appearing impolite. “She’s in pretty good health for her age, but her mind sort of comes and goes. Have a seat.” He motioned to the leather sofa and chair. “I have a fresh pot just brewed. How do you like your coffee?”

“Black,” said Glen.

“Lots of sugar,” said Rosie. “And cream. Lots of cream. If you have it.”

Deep chuckled. “You hear that, Emma? The girl likes her coffee same as you used to.”

Glen and Rosie sat down on the sofa, but didn’t have to wait long for Deep to return with coffee.

He handed a mug to each of them and sat down in the big chair. “You’re kin to me. No doubt about that.”

“I’ve lived my whole life thinking I didn’t have any family. So, please don’t take this wrong, but how do you know?”

“Even if I didn’t have eyes, I can smell.” Laugh lines formed around Deep’s eyes when he smiled. “Then when you told me your name…”

The door opened and Hunter walked in without knocking, but clothed, Rosie noted, in jeans that would have been fashionably worn if Hunter was the kind who cared about fashion, and a charcoal gray Henley that made the pale gray of his eyes even more prominent. He walked over to the old woman, bent down and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

“Hunter, sit down and help us sort this through.” He motioned to Hunter. “This is our son.”

As Hunter sat on the stone hearth, Glen said, “We’ve met. Sort of.”

“Hunter,” Deep said, “this is Glendennon Catch.”

“I heard,” Hunter said.

Deep cleared his throat. “So you say you don’t have any family.”

“From what I’ve learned recently, my parents were killed in an accident when I was two. The authorities couldn’t find any family. So I went into the foster care system.”

“You just now began looking?”

Glen looked down at his hands. “I’d always thought that, if I had any family who cared about me, they would have shown up before now.” Deep nodded, looking both sad and thoughtful. “I have pictures of my parents.”

Glen withdrew the folded photo-copies he’d received from Rosie.

Deep took them and stared for a long time before passing them over to Hunter.

Sitting back with a deep sigh, he said, “There’s a whirlwind of feeling in my heart. I’ve just learned that my son has passed beyond the veil. I’ve suspected as much for a long time, but wasn’t sure until now.” He looked at his wife. “I’m glad she’s beyond caring. I would hate to imagine what this would do to her.” He glanced at Rosie before focusing on Glen again. “Your father’s name was Catch.”

Deep looked away for a moment with a wistful smile. “Got the name as a pup because he caught fish in the air.” He chuckled. “Most amazing thing you’ve ever seen. I would take him out on the water on a pontoon. He would change into wolf form and crouch on his haunches. If a fish jumped anywhere near, he’d leap into the air almost like he could fly, catch the fish in his jaws before it reentered the water, and swim back to the pontoon.” He looked at Hunter. “We’d have to pull him up, of course. But it was entertaining as a circus act. When he decided to live in the human world, I suppose he chose to use Catch as a surname. To fit in.”

He looked at his wife, who, so far as Rosie could tell, hadn’t moved a muscle. “Emma’s family name was Glendennon.”

Glen looked at Rosie for her reaction. She gave him a little encouraging smile and reached for his hand.

“So you’re my…”

“Grandfather,” said Deep. “Hunter, here, is your uncle.”

Hunter gave Glen a little smile. “Guess it’s a good thing I didn’t eat you.”

Deep ignored him. “So, Glendennon…”

“Glen.”

Deep nodded and looked at his wife lovingly. “Emma, this is our grandson, Glen.” Turning back he said, “We’re glad you found us. I wish we had known about you. If we had, no power on Earth could have kept us from you.”

Rosie heard Glen’s breath hitch and she knew he was struggling to keep from breaking down. Going from believing no one wanted him to learning that people would move mountains for him was a lot of change to assimilate.

“Why did he leave?” Glen asked.

“Oh, he wanted to go down to the human world. Find out what it was like. I guess he must have fallen for a human.” He looked at Emma. “Can’t blame him. That’s what I did.”

“So my father could shift, um, into a wolf?”

Deep laughed quietly. “Oh, yes. I think your question must mean that you don’t?”

Glen shook his head. “I can smell emotions and I have the vocal cords for making sounds that humans don’t make. I might be a little quicker than most humans. But that’s about it.”

“To me the most important thing about you is that you’re Catch’s son. Welcome home.”

They lingered for hours listening to stories about Glen’s father. It was clear that both Deep and Hunter had loved and respected him and grieved when they’d been cut off from contact and news of him.

Glen found that the idea of a grandfather who appeared to be not much older than he took some getting used to, but not as much as might be expected. Rosie sat next to Glen, quietly supporting the blood reunion, pleased that his quest had led to something resoundingly positive.

At length Glen asked, “Why did he stay away? Had you had a falling out?”

“Oh, no,” said Deep. “I couldn’t answer why. I wish he hadn’t.” His eyes warmed when he looked at Glen. “For so many reasons.”

When they rose to leave, Deep pulled Glen into another hug and made him promise to visit often. Glen caught Hunter winking at Rosie which meant that, before their departure, Deep and Hunter got to hear that Glen was telling the truth about having the ability to snarl like a full wolf.

“Settle down,” Hunter said in a placating way. “I’m just flirting. I would never take what’s yours, nephew.”

“You got that right, wolfman,” Rosie said.

“See?” Hunter held up his hands. “Everybody agrees the witch is yours.”

As they stepped out of Deep’s cabin, snow was starting to fall in flakes so big the icy patterns were almost visible to the naked eye.

Rosie said, “Maybe he stayed away to protect your mother. I mean there had to be a reason why her ID was fake.”

Glen nodded. “Maybe sometime we’ll look up some of those people who worked at the lodge. Find out what they know.” He smiled at Rosie with a twinkle in his eyes. “But not today.”

She caught his meaning. “Your pill still working?”

Glen looked at his watch. “Yeah. I should still be good.”

“What a day, huh?”

“Yeah. What a day.” He smiled. “Thank you. This means…” He seemed at a loss for how to finish that sentence.

“I know. No explanation necessary.”

“You hungry?”

“Have we met?”

He laughed. “Surprise me.”

When they emerged from the passes, Glen looked around.

“This is your apartment.”

“Yeah,” she said with a predatory grin.

“Thought you were hungry.” He returned her grin as she removed her scarf and cashmere sweater.

“I am, but I’ve got some stuff in the refrigerator. We can eat later. Let’s celebrate now.”

She pushed his jacket off his shoulders and ran her hands under his shirt, coming in contact with bare skin. His abs tightened as he jerked back. “Oh my gods. Your hands are like icicles.”

“Forgot to warm them up.” She pulled her hands away, laughing. “I’m going to jump in for a quick hot shower. Don’t go away,” she purred. Pointing to the bedroom, she said, “You can wait for me in there if you want.”

Rosie hurried to turn the shower to hot and wiggle out of her boots and jeans. She clipped her hair on top of her head to keep it from getting completely wet and stood, shifting her weight from foot to foot, impatiently waiting for the water to heat.

She took a shower in record time using the unscented soap because she remembered that Glen’s nose was ultrasensitive, dried off, and threw on a midnight blue silk robe. When she opened the bathroom door, heavy steam wafted into the bedroom.

The bedside lamp was on, illuminating Glen lying on his back. The sheet was pulled up just high enough to expose the waistband of black cotton boxers. Otherwise, he was bare.

Rosie had known that he had filled out from years of claiming manhood and, no doubt, Black Swan workouts, but she hadn’t seen the rippled and defined expression of that carved into the flesh until that moment. He was beautiful enough to be the centerfold of a gay magazine.

He was luscious. He was inviting. He was a fantasy come to life. He was also snoring with a volume that could only be achieved by a person with a werewolf’s vocal attributes.

Thinking back, she realized that he’d lost a night’s sleep and had also had an emotionally exhausting day. The pleasure of seeing him asleep in the bed she currently called hers quickly overrode any disappointment she felt about the sexual encounter she’d been anticipating. She turned out the light and crawled under the covers. When she laid her head on his chest, his arm immediately came around her and everything about that reflex, even in sleep, felt so right.

With a slight mental adjustment, Rosie fell asleep even with the rumbling snoring occurring just inches from her ears.

The next time she opened her eyes, filtered daylight was streaming through the south-facing windows. She was turned on her right side with a very large, very warm body spooning her from behind, alternating little kisses with little licks and delivering intermittent nips so light that they produced no sting.

“Hmmm,” she said, wiggling back to indicate receptiveness and bring her in even closer contact. He responded by pressing back, revealing unmistakable evidence that her bedmate had ideas for how they might spend the morning.

The hand, at the end of the arm that was wrapped around her waist from behind, came up to palm her breast and that prompted an echoing, “Hmmm,” from him.

She smiled to herself, feeling her nipple harden from the light friction of his thumb. Turning around to face him, she smiled like she was delighted with herself. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” he answered with a lazy smile of his own.

She reached up and ran her hand over the stubble that had formed on his face. He answered by playfully rubbing his face the wrong way against her shoulder.

“Ow,” she protested. “Stop.”

“What will you give me if I do?”

“What do you want?”

“You. Forever.”

“Deal.”

He grinned. “That was the easiest deal made with a demon in the history of demons.”

She grinned. “Probably. Just remember I have all kinds of creative ways to make you sorry if you make me mad.”

“You can’t threaten me.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m friends with your parents.”

“Since when? The way they tell it, you stopped returning calls. And texts. And emails.”

“Yeah. I did. But I fixed it.”

“When?”

“Between Paris and Edinburgh.”

“How did you fix it?”

“Groveling.”

She nodded. “I believe you because I know from experience that groveling works with them.” She reached for his waistband. “Now that we agree on what the rest of our lives…”

He stopped her. “About that.”

“What about that?”

“When we were at my grandparents’ house?”

“Yes?”

“It was a clarifying moment. The consequence of mating somebody of a different species.”

“The age difference.”

“Yeah. I know none of us know how long we’ll live, but it’s almost a certainty that you will outlive me, by a long time, even if I live three times as long as most humans.”

Rosie searched his face. “You’re worried about how I might feel if you’re old and I look the way I do now.”

He nodded slightly. “I think you should give it some thought.”

“Okay.” She smiled and rushed in for a kiss.

When she released him, he said, “You’re sure you’ve thought this through?”

“Absolutely. If you turn into the cryptkeeper, I’ll hire somebody to go down to the basement and check in on you once every few days.”

Even though he was sure she was joking, he looked a little stunned. “Has anyone ever told you that your sense of humor is unusual?”

She laughed. “I was just kidding. I’ll feed you oatmeal myself and I won’t put you in the basement unless you start to smell.”

“Good gods, Rosie!”

“Glen, I’m kidding! Really. Why don’t you just relax and think about the here and now?” Her tone changed to seductive. “If you want me to reward you with maple sugar in your oatmeal when you’re old, you need to give me a reason to dote on you now.”

“Do you know what incorrigible means?”

“Must have sex now?”

He grinned as he pulled the tie of her robe to loosen it. “Yeah. That’s it.”

He treated her to one of his long slow almost-better-than-sex kisses and reminded her of why he was unforgettable.

He pulled the silk away from her body and threw it in the general direction of the foot of the bed. Pushing the sheets out of the way, he took his time looking his fill at how Rosie’s body had changed, marveling at the fact that the changes were for the better. Her breasts were fuller and heavier and her hips flared more from her waist. But the best thing was the womanly expression she wore on her face telling him that his lover knew who she was and what she was doing.

Rosie preened in response to the pleasure she saw in Glen’s eyes and pulled on the waistband of his boxers indicating that she wanted them off. He was still struggling with compliance when she took his cock in her hand. He instantly forgot what he’d been doing and froze except for the soft growl that rumbled in his chest. That response was a stimulus that went straight to Rosie’s core as if Glen’s vocal cords had invisible fingers.

Coming together, skin to skin, for the first time in so long, Rosie’s body recognized Glen and responded like it had been hours, not years. She was cast into an acute state of euphoria. Glen shared her eagerness to cut foreplay short. He put up a front of weak resistance, but when Rosie wanted something, she was a force not to be denied and Glen was just as eager to experience being joined with Rosie. She was his drug of choice. She always would be. So without much of a protest, he surrendered and slid into her slick channel, knowing that she was immune to both disease and pregnancy unless she wanted it.

She moaned when he entered her fully and he wasn’t entirely sure it was a pleasure response.

“What’s wrong?” Glen looked concerned.

She needed time for her body to adjust to the stretching and the invasion.

“It’s just been a really long time. Years.” He pulled out. “No. Don’t go away. Just take it a little bit slow at first.”

He reentered, taking his cues on how to proceed from her. When she began moving with him, he increased his pace until he was sure the sounds she made were pleasure responses.

“I think this feels better than it’s supposed to,” he said breathlessly.

“It’s supposed to feel this good. When you’re with the right person.”

He kissed her long and deep as he continued to thrust slowly, savoring the moment he’d thought would never happen again. When he pulled back, he looked into her eyes. “Do you love me, Rosie?”

“Of course. I loved you before I could walk.”

“It was hel without you. You know that? There’s nothing in life more important than being with you. Nothing will ever come between us again.”

“I know. So shut up and make love to me.”

They spent at least half of Glen’s leave in bed. Rosie responded to a few small tracking jobs, but they were easy and she was never gone long.

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

With the help of pills that Glen called magic, Rosie delivered him to a command performance meeting at Jefferson Unit. She was going to take the opportunity to visit with her parents while Glen met with the J.U. Sovereign, Reverence Farthing.

Glen was standing in front of the Sovereign’s desk after the admin had been told to show him in. Farthing was on the phone, but he made a motion for Glen to sit. When he hung up, he said, “Dratblasted vampire.”

Glen was thinking that, even without knowing the context, he couldn’t have said it better, himself.

Rev looked up at him. “Sir Catch.”

“Yes, sir.”

“How was your time off?”

Glen tried to suppress a grin, but just couldn’t. “Good.”

“You certainly give every appearance of being refreshed, relaxed, and ready to go back to work.”

Glen’s face fell. He’d been so caught up in the deep and abiding pleasure of Rosie that he hadn’t given any thought to work or his future with Black Swan.

“Well,” he began, “I…”

“We’re not sending you back out as a floater.”

“You’re not?”

“No. In fact, Monq has launched a worldwide campaign to overhaul our policy on substitutions.”

“He has?”

Rev nodded. “Seems he thinks you, especially you, got a raw deal from us.”

Glen couldn’t argue with that, but was curious as to why they thought he’d gotten a raw deal. “Why’s that, sir?”

“Why does he think you especially got a raw deal? Did you know that before you the longest anybody had ever lasted as a floater was two years?”

“No. I didn’t know that, sir.”

“And it’s no wonder. It was conversations with you that brought it to our attention. Really says something about your character that you beat the record by two and a half times.” Glen’s only response to that was a deep sigh. He didn’t really feel like being congratulated for it. “Here’s the thing.”

Glen was glad that the Sovereign was getting around to ‘the thing’ because the discussion was beginning to make him uncomfortable.

“I’m retiring. Long and short is I need a replacement. I’ll be honest. I offered it to Storm, not because he’s more qualified, mind you. Just a matter of tenure. But whenever things die down enough for him to move on, he just wants to grow grapes. And maybe more children.” Rev shook his head as if to say that was a damn shame. “So I’m offering the position to you. You know it. You’ve done it. Damn fine job of it, too. Jefferson Unit would be fortunate to have you in this chair. What do you say?”

Glen sat staring at Rev for several beats. He couldn’t have been more stunned if lightning had just struck and paralyzed his tongue.

“Catch?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Are you with me?”

Glen took a deep breath. “I am. It’s just… That’s the last thing I guess I was expecting to hear when I reported. I was pretty sure I was being fired.”

“Well, you’re not. So what’s your answer?”

“The only thing that keeps me from saying yes on the spot is that I promised myself I would never make another career move without taking Rosie into consideration. I need to run it by her.”

“Send her a text. Time’s wasting.”

“Yes, sir.”

Glen walked past the admin’s office into the hallway outside the Sovereign’s suite.

Glen: Can you come to the hallway outside the Sovereign’s office?

Within three seconds of sending the text, Rosie was standing in front of him holding her phone.

He smiled. “I think I’ve actually gotten used to that.”

“What’s up?”

She could see that he was trying not to smile. “I just got offered the Sovereign’s job. Here. At Jefferson Unit,” he whispered.

Rosie squealed with excitement for him and leapt into his arms, legs straddling his waist.

“Madam,” he said, “this is conduct unbecoming a Sovereign’s wife.”

“Well then, if you want me to behave, you better hurry up and make me a Sovereign’s wife.”

“Deal.” He grinned, looking years younger than when she’d first seen him on her return to Jefferson Unit. He’d been damaged and scarred, but his core was indomitable.

Rev heard the muffled squeal outside his offices and smiled, thinking sometimes things do turn out the way they’re supposed to.

Glen and Rosie were married at Jefferson Unit at two in the afternoon so that all active duty knights could attend. Sovereign Reverence Farthing officiated. He was empowered to marry, although he’d never done it before and thought it a fitting end to an illustrious career.

The Lady Elora Laiken, not to be outdone, went into labor as soon as the groom kissed the bride. Beautiful twin girls were delivered in the infirmary, with perfectly shaped elven ears and a smattering of white blond hair. Rammel, never ashamed to emote, shed tears of joy as he posed for photos holding one in each arm.

He also vowed to tell the new Sovereign that he was retiring from vampire hunting as soon as Glen returned from his honeymoon. It was looking as if there would always be more vampire, but more time to spend with his growing family could not be manufactured.

Glen and Rosie took a two week honeymoon to Paris. Among other things they revisited the places they’d seen while looking for Falcon and discovered that Paris was even more magical when seen through the eyes of lovers. One of the things Glen enjoyed most was inviting Baka and Heaven to dinner at Le Train Bleu and forcing them to watch he and Rosie engage in hot make-out sessions between every course.

The newlyweds were offered the Charlemagne suite at Jeanne d’Arc Unit, but chose instead to take the top floor at the Auberge du Jeu de Paume in Chantilly. Glen was well-armed with pills so that transportation was never a problem.

They agreed that their next vacation would be a cross-dimensional tour of exotic experiences unavailable from the corner travel or tourist agency.

After three weeks of intensive dinner conversations with Monq, Falcon was cleared to return to work.

He stopped by the Operations Office on the way to mess one day to request travel home for his mother’s surprise birthday party being arranged by his older brother. When he stepped inside, there was a young woman standing, facing the door as she read something lying in front of her on the counter while her auburn bangs obscured most of her face.

She looked up with clear amber-colored eyes so exotic they could only be called arresting and flashed a brilliant smile. “Hello. Can I help you?”

Falcon dragged his eyes away as fast as humanly possible, looked around nervously, and frowned. Without making eye contact, he said, “Where’s Farnsworth?”

“Retired. Didn’t you hear? I’m Gretchen Galen from the San Francisco office. I work here now. You can call me Great. Short for Gretchen.”

She waited for Falcon to tell her his name and state his business, but he did neither. He just walked out, leaving her wondering if it was something she’d said.

“I was just kidding about the ‘great’ thing,” she called after him, but he’d already disappeared.

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ALSO BY VICTORIA DANANN:

The Knights of Black Swan VAMPIRE HUNTERS reading in order strongly recommended

1. My Familiar Stranger (Black Swan 1)
2.The Witch's Dream (Black Swan 2)
3.A Summoner's Tale (Black Swan 3)
4.Moonlight(Black Swan 4)
5.Gathering Storm (Black Swan 5)
6.A Tale of Two Kingdoms (Black Swan 6)
7.Solomon's Sieve (Black Swan 7)
Prince of Demons (A Black Swan Novel)
8.Vampire Hunter (Black Swan 8)
9.Journey Man (Black Swan 9)
10.Inis Gael, A Hawking Yule (Black Swan 10) November 2016

The New Scotia Pack WEREWOLVES

1.Shield Wolf: Liulf (New Scotia Pack 1)
2. Wolf Lover: Konochur (New Scotia Pack 2)
2.Born of Fire: Cinaed (New Scotia Pack 3) December 2016

Exiled, THE HYBRIDS reading in order strongly recommended

1.Carnal (Exiled 1)
2.Crave (Exiled 2)
3.Charming (Exiled 3) June 2016

The Witches of Wimberley (new series Summer 2016)

CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE

Two Princes Sons of Sanctuary MC, Book 1.

Real Magic (October 2016)

BEST PARANORMAL ROMANCE SERIES Three Years In A Row!- Knights of Black Swan

BEST PARANORMAL ROMANCE NOVEL (GENERAL) - A Summoner's Tale

BEST PARNORMAL ROMANCE NOVEL (Vampires & Shifters) – Moonlight

BEST PARANORMAL ROMANCE NOVEL (Vampires) – Solomon’s Sieve