FALCON: Resistance (KBS Next Generation Book 1)

by Victoria Danann

  Falcon ended the call and looked at Sinclair. He said nothing. The look he gave his teammate said it all.

  Jax walked up looking a lot the worse for wear. “What happened?” He looked at Falcon.

  “You don’t want to know. Sorry you didn’t have back up.”

  “I’m thinking I need some of those nifty stake things you carry.”

  Falcon nodded. “That can be arranged. We’re going in for the night. I think Chorszak has a concussion.” Jax looked over at Spaz and sighed. “You did good. That girl came running by us. She was scared, but she’ll get over that. I really am sorry we hung you out to dry.”

  Jax shrugged. “Priorities. Friends come first. Right?”

  Falcon didn’t miss the sadness in the question. “Right.”

  They waited in silence until the ambulance arrived. When Falcon turned to say goodnight to Jax, he was gone.

  The medics took a look at Spaz and decided he’d be better off riding back to J.U. in the ambulance because it would mean a lot less moving him around than trying to get him into an ambulance, out and up an elevator to the nearest rooftop port, into a whister, out and down the elevator to the infirmary.

  The team piled in with him.

  Falcon gave Sin a look that said, “We’re going to have a conversation.”

  Sin raised his chin and gave Falcon a look that said, “Bring it on.”

  When Spaz was taken behind closed doors at the infirmary, his teammates left in the waiting room, Falcon decided it was time.

  “What were you doing?” Falcon asked.

  Sin jutted his chin out. “I was about to fire at a flurry of vampire.”

  “A flurry?” Falcon narrowed his eyes. “You mean you were about to fire at Jax?”

  “Do you hear yourself? That thing is not a ‘Jax’. It’s a vampire. I don’t care if it can talk. You shouldn’t either. What are we, Kris? Last time I checked we’re vampire slayers. And that’s a vampire. I see that clearly even if you’ve all gone crazy and lost the mission.”

  “We have direct orders from the Sovereign, who gave us a choice. Agree or walk. You didn’t walk, which means you agree. If you want this to stay between us, which… I don’t even know how we would do that, you need to talk to Monq.”

  “No.”

  “My first choice is for you to volunteer. Monq won’t put it in your record. No one will know but us. Spaz will tell Glen he ran into a wall. Glen won’t believe it, but he’ll accept it. If you refuse, you’re gonna leave us no choice but to report this.”

  “Who do you think you are? Teams don’t have leaders, big shot.”

  “Maybe not, but at times some have cooler heads than others.” He glanced at Wakey. “I know that better than most. This is one of those times.”

  Sin looked at Wakey. “You agree with this?”

  Wakey was nodding his head before Sin got to the end of that question. “I do, brother. And your partner, who can’t speak for himself right now, would say the same.”

  That was like a punch in the gut. It was like Sin came to grips for the first time that he was the one who was ultimately responsible for Spaz being hurt.

  “Oh gods,” he whispered. He backed into a chair and more fell than sat.

  “That mean you agree?” Falcon asked.

  Sin nodded. He put his elbows on his thighs and buried his face in his hands. “I know you don’t care about this right now, but that vampire took a beating he didn’t have coming, because we were no-shows. He waded in because he thought we were coming. Saved a girl’s life while we were dicking around. I sincerely hope you’re getting the gravity of this situation.”

  Sin nodded again.

  The doc came through the swinging waiting room doors. He’d been working at J.U. for long enough that he was thought of as a fixture.

  Falcon, Sin, and Wakey all stood up.

  “He’s tough, but you already knew that. Going to be just fine. But his brain did a little jello wiggle inside his head.”

  “Concussion,” Falcon said. “That’s what we thought.” He glanced at Sin, but his looks of recrimination had softened since Sinclair had apparently seen the light and felt appropriately miserable.

  “Yes, indeed. Concussion. I guess you boys have some experience with that.”

  Wakey snorted. “Might say we’re experts. So let me guess. He needs to stay quiet and not move around much or he’s gonna get even dumber than he already was.”

  Dr. Reisgold chuckled. “On the money, Sir Wakenmann. Fortunately it’s not severe. His left shoulder and arm are bruised pretty badly. That’s the bad news. The good news is that the left side of his body took the brunt of the collision. If not for that, he’d be dead. No question. No broken bones, which is remarkable really.” He looked at the three hunters. “Oh, to be young.” He smiled.

  “What…?” Falcon started to ask.

  The doc held up his hand. “I’ve been doing this long enough to know what comes next. What always comes next. You want to know when he’ll be cleared for duty.” All three of his teammates nodded. “I’m keeping him here for observation for at least two days then confining him to J.U. for a week. I’ll take a look then. See what’s up.”

  He’d been treating knights for so long he’d adopted their speech patterns.

  “Can we go in and see him?” Falcon asked.

  Doc was shaking his head. “No. I want him to sleep for the next twenty-four hours except for when the nursing staff wakes him deliberately.”

  “Thanks, Doc,” Wakey stuck out his hand and shook. “Take good care of him.”

  “Yep. Yep. Yep,” said Reisgold, shaking Wakey’s hand.

  Falcon walked off to the side and called Glen to give him the news that one of them was on sheet time for at least the next ten days. Falcon could almost sense telepathically how much Glen wanted to turn the air blue. To his credit, he tried to sound calm and controlled, but being without another hunter when they’d just lost an entire team? To put it in a bureaucratically brutal way, scheduling was going to be a bitch and Glen’s knights would be eternally bitching about extra work when they were already maxed.

  After making the call to Glen, he dialed Jax.

  “It’s Kell,” answered the vampire.

  “Hey. I’m, uh, calling to say I’m sorry again and to… see how you’re doing.”

  There was a pause before Jax replied. “You’re calling to see how I am?” Falcon heard the surprise in his voice. And in fact, Jax was surprised. No one had asked about him for centuries. On some level he’d missed the lack of connection. He just hadn’t realized how much until a voice on the phone inquired as to his well-being.

  “Well. Yes.”

  “That’s… unexpected. I’m…” he cleared his throat, “not as pretty as usual. They left scratches all over, including on my face.”

  “How long does it take you to heal?”

  “Hard to say. Maybe half as long as you? But meantime, the ladies are not going to be easy to woo.”

  “Can’t be that bad.”

  “You accusing me of hyperbole? Come into town and have a drink with me. You’ll see.”

  Falcon mulled that over. He owed Jax because their failure to back him up had resulted in a challenge to Jax’s pretty boy looks, which he apparently needed to be a successful vampire.

  “Yeah. I’m off tonight. I can meet you before you go to work.”

  “I have to eat early these nights because I start my shift at eight.”

  For the first time Falcon realized that Jax was working seven nights in a row, followed by another seven. No days off.

  “I just realized you’re not getting days off.”

  Jax gave a dark chuckle. “I had six hundred years of days off.’

  “Well, when you put it like that…”

  “If I was being honest, I guess I’d have to say that it feels good to… ah, contribute.”

  Falcon wanted to change the subject before they wandered too far into talks about feelings.

&nbs
p; “How about six thirty?”

  “Tonight? Yes. Where do you want to go?”

  “Carnegie Tap. I could go for one of those six inch high sandwiches and a giant mug of something brewed. It’s not the kind of thing they serve here. The chef is into gourmet and rarely strays.”

  “My treat.”

  “If you insist.”

  Jax ended the call.

  When Falcon turned around, Wakey and Sin were both staring at him.

  “I’m having dinner with Kell before he goes to work tomorrow night. I think we owe him.”

  Wakey nodded, looking thoughtful. “You need a wing man?”

  “No. Plus, he says he’s scratched up pretty bad. I’m kind of curious, I guess. He says he can’t attract girls looking the way he does right now.”

  Wakey gave him a look that said, “Why should that matter to us?”

  “He can’t get the sustenance he needs if he isn’t attractive to women.”

  Wakey flushed as the implication dawned on him. “Yeah. You can go by yourself.”

  Falcon smiled. “Whatever you say.”

  Falcon turned to his phone for a third time. He dialed Monq, who rarely answered, but Falcon must have caught him either between things or in a moment of weakness.

  “Kristoph. There you are. I miss our dinners. Are you in need of my services?”

  “Don’t sound so eager. It’s creepy.” Monq chuckled. “I’m not, but someone else is. You busy?”

  “I can spare a few if you come down now. I’ll be in the office. Bring a nickel for the jar.”

  The reference to the comic strip Peanuts was Monq’s attempt to be funny.

  “You want to come with?” Falcon said to Wakey.

  “No point in overcrowding the room. I’m gonna call my girl, watch some TV, get a couple of extra winks.”

  “Let’s go,” Falcon said to Sin.

  “What? Now?” Sin looked unprepared, like things were moving too fast.

  “You know The Order’s position on procrastination.”

  Sin wasn’t in a position to protest and he knew it. So he followed Falcon to the elevator.

  Falcon knocked on the doorjamb of Monq’s office.

  “The doctor is in!” Monq called.

  Falcon pulled a nickel out of his pocket, threw it in the air, then caught it and slapped it down on Monq’s desk.

  “Consider me paid,” said Monq, looking past Falcon with undisguised curiosity.

  “This is Sinclair Harvest.” Falcon motioned behind him.

  Monq rose and offered his hand. “Of course I know of you. How do you do, Sir Harvest?”

  “I’ve been better,” Sin answered.

  Falcon gestured toward the door and said, “May I?”

  When Monq nodded, Falcon closed the door. Instead of sitting down behind his desk, Monq came around to the little sitting area in front of the video fireplace. Two deep cushioned wingback chairs, that were a lot more comfortable than they looked, faced each other. Falcon moved a smaller chair that sat like a sentry in the corner closer to the hearth chairs and sat down in it, deliberately leaving the large chair by the desk for Monq and the other chair, facing Monq, free.

  Sin sat in the chair that Falcon had come to think of as the ‘hotseat’ when he was recovering from a disturbance that he liked to call serial bad judgment.

  “Can I offer you something to drink?” Monq looked from Falcon to Sin.

  “Coffee. Please,” said Falcon. He looked at Sin and added, “Make that two.”

  Monq pushed a button on his desk and an assistant opened the door within seconds.

  “Full coffee service for three, George. Knock when it’s ready.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  George turned to go, but Monq stopped him. “Oh and let’s have an assortment of those big cookies that Marla makes.”

  “Yes, sir.” Falcon caught George’s parting smile. He was clearly amused by Monq, perhaps even fond of him. It always pleased Falcon to see people enjoying their work. Life is short. That fact had been punctuated that very week when four knights in their prime were alive one minute and gone the next. He shuddered, thinking about the fact that they’d died being punctured with their own stakes.

  “Falcon?” Monq said.

  “Hmmm? Oh. This is confidential.”

  “Goes without saying. That’s what it means when somebody closes my door.”

  Sin stared at the video fire while Falcon told Monq about Sin’s increasingly agitated behavior over the past few weeks, the story culminating with the incident that had landed Chorszak in the infirmary upstairs.

  “I told Sin that, if he’d come see you and get it sorted, we could keep it between us. No need for a record. Am I right?” Monq looked at Sin, then back at Falcon. “I mean it’s not like Spaz is going to press charges.”

  “No, I don’t suppose he will want to,” Monq said. “How do you feel about this, Sir Harvest?”

  “About being here? Or about what happened?”

  “Let’s start with how you feel about being here.”

  “Think I hit a wall tonight. Like Kris says, I need to get my head put back on straight.”

  Monq nodded. “Very well. Kris, why don’t you go grab some coffee from the Hub? I’d like to have a word with Sir Harvest alone.”

  “I was looking forward to cookies.”

  Monq grinned. “Wait outside the door. When George comes back with the cart, take all the cookies you want, but leave a macadamia nut and an oatmeal molasses for me.”

  Falcon put the chair back in the corner where it had been. “If I don’t hear from you, I’m going to take that to mean that you can get his wheels back on the rails.”

  Monq smiled. “Very well. Don’t expect to hear from me. I don’t believe there are any insurmountable problems.”

  Sin looked up at that. Falcon wasn’t sure how to read the expression on Sin’s face. Perhaps relief. Or hope.

  “See ya.” Falcon smiled at Monq affectionately.

  Of course he felt kindly toward the man who put him back together. Monq wouldn’t take credit for that. If asked, he would have said that Falcon did the work and deserved the credit. That might have been true, but Falcon knew Monq was a damn good guide.

  “Come to dinner soon.”

  “I will.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Falcon arrived at Carnegie Tap at exactly six thirty. It had a bygone era charm; lots of dark wood, no TV monitors, just people in conversation or alone with their own thoughts. It wasn’t so big that he couldn’t tell right away whether Jax was there or not.

  He was.

  Waiting in a back corner booth, he’d already started on a foamy brew. He lifted his hand in greeting as Falcon made his way around tables in tight quarters. In mid-town New York restaurant real estate rents by the square inch.

  Falcon sat down and stared. The vampire hadn’t been kidding. His face and neck were crisscrossed with deep gashes. A couple looked like they could use stitches.

  Jax watched Falcon’s reaction from behind his sunglasses. “I know. Damn filthy deadheads never heard of manicures. They let their nasty nails get long and thick and yellow.”

  In addition to the gashes, his face and neck were swollen and red around the wounds.

  “Does the rest of you look like that?”

  Jax smirked. “Let’s just say that, if you’re itching to see me naked, you’re going to have to wait a couple of weeks.”

  A waiter appeared beside them with an apron tied at the waist.

  “I’ll have whatever that is in his glass,” Falcon’s eyes indicated Jax’s mug, “and pastrami on rye. Brown mustard. I don’t want anything pickled, but I do want some chips. You got some sea salt chips around here?”

  “We make our own,” the waiter said, “and they have salt. They’re good.”

  “Yeah,” Falcon said, “bring me those.”

  The waiter turned his attention to Jax. “Same,” was all he said.

  The waiter nodded. “
You got it.” He slipped away, rubber soles silent on the hardwood floor.

  “You were right about not being pretty.”

  Jax smiled. “I’ll take that as an admission that I was devilishly handsome before. Thank you.”

  “Yeah, well, we all feel bad about what happened.”

  “What did happen?”

  Falcon had no idea how to answer that question, but somehow sensed the vampire would know if he lied.

  “One of my teammates has been acting strange lately. We thought it was just nerves, everybody’s been on the edge.” Jax nodded. “Last night when we arrived within sight of the battle, Sin pulled out his weapon and was going to fire. My other teammate saw that you were fighting the, um, deadheads. So he dove at Sin, trying to knock the gun away.

  “Sin used Spaz’s own momentum to throw him into a wall. He hit his head. Went unconscious.”

  “I see,” Jax said. “And he is…”

  “Has a concussion. He’ll be alright, but he’s on the D.L. for a week and a half or so. I wouldn’t want to be the Sovereign, trying to figure out how to handle that.”

  “What do you mean?”

  The waiter set Falcon’s beer in front of him. He took a sip before saying, “As you know, we lost a whole team. We were already maxed and we don’t have a spare hunter. If we don’t find one, we’ll be down two teams, because we can’t go out as three.”

  “Why not?” Jax cocked his head, trying to remember if he could recall having seen three hunters.

  “It’s a system. Time honored. We’re a team of four. We hunt as two pairs, neither ever very far away from the other.”

  The waiter returned with sandwiches and set them down. Falcon snapped up a chip then realized the waiter was waiting to see what he thought of their home made version of thin fried potatoes.

  “Yeah. Good.” Falcon’s eyebrows were raised appreciatively.

  The waiter smiled. “That’s what they all say.”

  Between bites of pastrami, Falcon said, “You said you aren’t attractive to the opposite sex right now and,” he glanced across the table, “I have to agree.” Jax snorted. “Will you be yourself before that’s, ah, critical?”