“In two days? That was fast.”
Rhydder wandered over to the hole in the wall. “Do you mind if I look?” he said to Gawain.
Gawain considered, then shrugged. “Why not? You tell anyone, I can turn you in for what you’re doing to Marley. Blackmail and extortion. Cops’ll be way more interested in you than me.”
Rhydder grinned. “You figure that’s the worst I’ve done?” He moved toward the hole as Gawain’s smile faded.
“The laboratory is ready as soon as you are,” Demyan added.
“Now?”
“Pritti is already there and waiting.”
Rhydder pulled his head out of the hole. Unlike Gawain, he had managed to avoid most of the plaster dust. He brushed what little he’d acquired off his shoulders. “You splice into the wiring this side of the building junction box, you’ll alert the net company and miss out on half of the available bandwidth. On this side it’s choked and only supplying a few floors. You need to find the wiring on the front end of the junction box and cut in there, before it hits the box. Then you get all the speed and width you want and the company won’t notice a thing because you’re diverting it before it hits the box, which does the monitoring.”
Gawain’s eyes widened just a little bit. He shrugged, making it look casual. “The junction box could be anywhere. First floor. Three hundred feet of cable away. I’m tapping in where I can. Way I do it, no one will notice anything.”
Rhydder grinned. “It’s your funeral.”
“That’s right,” Gawain returned, picking up the cable splicer.
“We need to go now,” Demyan pressed.
Marley ran her gaze over Gawain. “There’s no way you can step inside a genetics lab like that,” she said slowly, realizing the position this put her in.
Gawain looked down at himself and held up a hand. “Five minutes,” he promised. “Real fast.” He reached for the hem of his tank top.
“No. Now,” Demyan insisted.
“He has to wash his hair, too. He can’t do it in five,” Rhydder rumbled. He turned his head to look at Marley. “You are perfectly safe with just the two of us. I guarantee it.”
Marley shivered and tried desperately to hide it. She knew that Gawain didn’t see it and perhaps Demyan but Rhydder, she wasn’t so sure about. He was watching her so closely.
“I don’t know anything about you. Who you are,” she said.
“You don’t have to,” he replied. “For now, it is enough that Pritti’s life depends on you remaining alive and in good health. It is important to us that Pritti remain alive and by extension, your life is therefore important.” He shrugged. “Anything else is unimportant.”
It was a re-phrasing of Gawain’s reasoning from last night. Hearing it echoed by Rhydder, from his unique viewpoint, allowed Marley to relax enough to nod. “Very well, then.” She caught Gawain’s eye. He nodded a little, too. He agreed.
“I want details when you get back,” he added.
Marley picked up her sack and coat and looked at Rhydder and Demyan. “Let’s go, then.”
As soon as the apartment door closed behind her and she was alone with them Marley wanted to change her mind, but she kept going. She was committed now and about to break the law on a scale that would absolutely put her on a transport ship...if anyone found out.
She kept thinking of Pritti and kept putting one foot in front of the other.
* * * * *
Chronometric Conservation Agency Headquarters, Villa Fontani, Rome, 2264 A.D.: “Rome, again?” she asked as they started their descent.
“It’s where Pritti is. We have access to unique resources there,” Rhydder said shortly.
Demyan remained silent.
Rhydder used a different landing strip this time. It looked like a private field. It had one of the stunted auto-traffic controllers sitting at the end, blinking. Manicured lawn butted up against the edge of the strip, which was smooth and crack-free.
There were low buildings a quarter of a mile away, surrounded by lush gardens. As the Corvette came back down to standard ground speed, Marley tried to figure out where they were. Something was tickling the back of her memory, knocking to be recalled.
Rhydder directed the car along the narrow drive that led to the landing strip. The drive meandered back to the buildings, winding around groves of trees and still ponds.
There was a narrow space between the buildings, and Rhydder slotted the car through without slowing. Ochre colored walls zipped by, then they emerged into a paved yard. Several other cars were lined up, nose in, facing the long wall of the yard.
There was a set of double doors at the narrow end. The doors looked old, with very old fashioned brass or bronzed handles that were green tinged around the edges. Well, this was Rome. It would be natural for buildings here to be incredibly old.
Rhydder pushed the door open with a twist of his wrist and cool air fanned their faces as they stepped inside.
Marley looked up at the high roof and frescoed walls. Age seemed to seep from every inch. “It this Villa…the villa that the vampire agency bought?”
“Villa Fontani,” Demyan murmured. “Welcome to the Chronometric Conservation Agency.”
Rhydder was walking ahead, through the room.
“The laboratory is here?” Marley queried, her voice dropping.
“Through here,” Rhydder called over his shoulder.
“We arranged everything to your specifications,” Demyan said.
“You must have worked…” She stopped, realizing how stupid her comment would be.
“Worked two days straight?” Demyan finished. “Yes, we did. We have that luxury.” He smiled grimly. “You’ve never mixed with vampires before, have you?”
“I’ve never even met one before.”
“Not that you know of,” Demyan replied.
“I suppose so. I hadn’t thought of that aspect.” She followed him around the corner into a beautiful courtyard with trees in the middle. It made her breath catch with the unexpectedness of it. She forces herself back on topic. “I thought, when I met Pritti, that you were simply helping a…friend. But if the Agency has gone to this trouble…”
“Pritti is a friend to the agency, too.”
“A psi-filer,” Marley qualified flatly.
“Indeed.” Demyan said. “This way. Pritti is waiting.”
* * * * *
Chronometric Conservation Agency Headquarters, Villa Fontani, Rome, 2264 A.D.: The laboratory really was a laboratory.
Marley carefully navigated the negative air-pressure door and walked around the small but well-equipped lab in her sealed shoes, conscious of Rhydder and Demyan staring at her through the observation wall.
With her first quick examination, everything she had asked for appeared to be in place.
Amazing.
She stepped back out into the clinic area. “Everything is here. This is more than adequate to begin procedures. Is that the office space?” she asked, pointing to the other door leading off the clinic area. “Somewhere for paperwork and for me to consult with Pritti? Computers and files are very dirty.”
“This way,” Demyan said, heading toward the door.
The door opened automatically as he approached it, which would save her hands from becoming soiled if they were sterile.
The compact but efficient consulting ward inside was a doctor’s dream. A fully automated desk, a medical bed and chair, lockers with equipment for collecting samples, and various monitoring and assessing tools.
“How did you find all the equipment so quickly?” Marley asked. “Or do I really want to know the answer?”
“There’s nothing nefarious about it,” Demyan said. “A bio-research development company that was starting up suddenly found the development money they thought they had didn’t come through. They had to fold their fledgling company and sell off their assets in a fire sale to pay off the debts they’d already acquired. We picked up their assets.”
Marley placed he
r hand on a pile of reading boards on the desk. “My research?” she asked, her heart suddenly pounding.
“Yes,” Demyan replied. “But how we acquired that is possibly an answer you really don’t want to know.”
She shook her head. “You’re right. I’ll pass on that one.”
“Demyan?” came the call from outside, in the clinic area.
“That’s Pritti,” Demyan said. He went out and brought Pritti into the consulting room.
Pritti edged into the room, her hand on Demyan’s sleeve, her big brown eyes looking as wary as any doe’s at the presence of strangers. But she was upright and far more energetic than the last time Marley had seen her. She kept close to Demyan and her gaze kept straying to Marley, even though it skittered away again quickly.
“Rhydder?” came another feminine hail.
Marley looked through the glass walls to the external door that gave access to the suite, as it slid aside. A red-headed woman of about thirty stepped in. She was wearing a green velvet business gown. Her hair glowed, as did her green eyes.
She looked around and spotted Rhydder, who was waiting in the outer area. Rhydder straightened up from his slouch against the edge of the table out there. He waved the woman toward the office.
The woman smiled her thanks. Rhydder held open the outside door of the office aside for her to walk through.
She was clearly someone important, for even Demyan and Pritti were sitting up straighter, watching her enter. Marley reached into her memory for anything she knew about the Chronometric Conservation Agency that might tell her who the woman was, but she knew next to nothing. She had spent ten years earning the right to treat humans and the last two years simply struggling to survive. There had been no room or time left over in her life to pay any attention to vampires and their immortality.
She suddenly wished Gawain were here. He would, she was sure, be able to give her a potted history of the agency, the critical players in it, and paint a complete picture of how Pritti, a psi, and Demyan and Rhydder fit into the structure and politics.
The red-headed woman walked straight up to the desk. Marley had been familiarizing herself with the controls and automation the desk offered, so she stood up behind it.
The red-head smiled, and it was a warm expression that seemed quite genuine. “You are Marley Alexander, I am told,” the woman said.
Marley nodded.
“I am Nayara Ybarra, the executive officer of the Agency. I am very glad to have you here. I hope everything we’ve constructed meets your specifications?”
Marley drew in a shaky breath. “You arranged all this?” she asked carefully.
“Pritti is very important to us,” Nayara replied, glancing at the tiny woman with another smile.
“But...” Marley made herself shut up.
Nayara tilted her head. “No, we are not concerned about your lack of a title, Marley Alexander. We have many people in the Agency with the gift of healing, and none of them are called ‘Doctor’ either. We value their contributions as much as we value yours.”
Marley’s heart was hurting. “You know that by treating Pritti, I have broken the law? You do understand that, don’t you?”
Nayara’s smile broadened and Marley thought her eyes were glittering with humor. “You have much to learn about vampires and the Agency. One thing you should know is that we try as much as possible to abide by all human laws. Sometimes, however, we find it expedient to...cut corners, shall we say?”
“That doesn’t stop me from being thrown in jail, or worse.”
“Only if they catch you,” Nayara returned. “You’re working for the agency now. We will naturally extend to you all the protective measures we have at our disposal. I should warn you that those powers are considerable.”
Marley looked from Nayara to Rhydder, who was standing at the open door with his arms crossed, leaning against the steel-glass frame in an indolent pose. He stared back steadily.
She found her gaze moving to Demyan, looking for answers. “You let me think you were doing a favor for a friend.”
“Two days ago, I was,” Demyan assured her.
“We are all doing a favor for a friend,” Nayara said, her voice as smooth and honeyed as muted trumpets. “But the Agency has resources that make our favors far more effective that anything Demyan could do on his own. Rhydder was wise enough to recognize that I could help.” Nayara spread her hand in a gesture that took in the office, the lab and all the equipment. “You can work with perfect security and peace of mind here. If there is something you need to complete Pritti’s treatment that we have failed to provide, you have only to ask for it.”
Marley couldn’t get her heart to stop thudding. This was something that happened in net novels. She drew in a sharp breath. “What’s the catch?” she asked bluntly.
Nayara’s smile broadened. “There is no catch,” she assured Marley. “But you might find that once you have got to know us, you will be reluctant to return to your old life. We seem to have that effect on people.” She walked to the door and looked back at Marley. “It’s not a catch, but it is a warning. We change people’s lives.”
She passed through the outer room and stepped out of the suite, shutting the door behind her.
Marley let her breath out. “That’s a warning?” she asked.
“Most humans don’t like change,” Pritti said, her delicate voice loud in the total silence that gripped the suite.
Rhydder straightened up from his lean. “You’re going to work harder than you’ve ever worked in your life. There’s a warning. These people don’t kid around.”
She looked up at him, startled. Then she smiled. “Hard work is something I do know. When can I start?”
Chapter Forty-Three
Chronometric Conservation Agency Headquarters, Villa Fontani, Rome, 2264 A.D.: Brenden held the handgun out to Adán, who took it reluctantly. He turned it over in his hands, examining it. “It seems that nothing has changed in the two hundred years I have skipped,” he commented. “Humans are still refining weapons to kill each other off.”
Justin moved to the workbench where Adán and Brenden stood. He held out his hand. “Try this on for size. I recall you were pretty handy with this, once.”
Adán picked up the big knife resting on Justin’s palm. “This is better,” he agreed, flipping it and spinning it until the blade was a blur. He tossed it up into the air and caught it again, by the hilt. He raised his brow and looked at Justin. “Is there a second one of these?”
“I’ll see what else Brenden has tucked away here,” Justin told him and moved back to the weapons locker he had been rooting through.
“Will you be away for long?” Deonne asked. She stood at the corner of the bench, feeling out of place and uneasy amongst all the weapons on display here. There was a staggering rage of them, including instruments and tools she couldn’t begin to name.
“As long as it needs,” Brenden replied, putting the gun away behind the plasteel security shield. “There’s no predicting how long it could take.”
Justin was sifting through cabinets on the far side of the room. She couldn’t see what he was looking through, but he reached deep inside the guts of one cupboard with a grunt of satisfaction. “There we go,” he said and withdrew another long, serrated knife. He reached in again and pulled out a scabbard that he pushed the knife into, then tossed it to Adán, who caught it with his free hand.
“You as good with those as the theatrics implies?” Brenden asked, crossing his arms.
“I am better with a longer blade,” Adán confessed. “But if I were to carry a sword around with me in this time, I am sure I would be arrested at the very least.”
“Swords, hmm? You should chat with Christian. He’s pretty good with a long blade. I prefer ‘em shorter, myself.”
“Greek?” Adán asked curiously. Then he smiled. “Sparta, yes?”
Brenden gave a small smile. “A long time ago.”
“Very long.” Adán stood
up and threaded the scabbards onto his thick leather belt. “My time as a human seems like a whole different lifetime. I can barely remember most of it. All I have is highlights, now. Your time was even further back. How much do you remember?”
Brenden raised his brow. “Enough,” he said shortly.
Adán grinned. “You must forgive my prying. I like listening to stories and vampires usually have such interesting stories to tell. With the time travel, the stories are that much more fascinating.”
Brenden relaxed. “You’ll soon get used to our ways,” he said. “But you’ll have your work cut out trying to get anyone to talk to you. We like our privacy.” He glanced at the time readout mounted on the wall over the door. “Eighty minutes. Time to get moving.”
Deonne twined her fingers together. She felt useless. Although she had always considered herself a modern woman, the equal of men in all but physical strength and superior in many ways, it was a fact that the three men in the workshop had almost forgotten she was there. This was a peculiarly male form of bonding.
If she were a warrior like Nayara it might have been different, but she didn’t think so. Nayara was good at self-defense. She did not think Nayara would volunteer for the shadowy and mysterious task that Adán had stepped up to do. Something that involved arming himself to the hilt implied violence.
So Deonne stood by the corner and waited. For once in her life, she had no definable role in this new world she had suddenly been thrust into, but she would not interrupt the moment for it was showing her a different side of Adán’s and Justin’s natures.
Because they had lived so long and been born into times that tended to be more personally violent than this one, both of them had by circumstance learned how to defend themselves with a degree of expertise that allowed them to survive. She was seeing a hint of that expertise now. It brought this fact home to her in a way that even seeing the cottage that had been Justin’s childhood home had not: This was the other side of vampires – their long history.
Adán hid the knives away by dropping his shirt over the top of them. Then he moved to her side. “You look upset, mi amor.” He tilted her chin up. “You have never seen a man off to war, have you?”
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