An invisible hand grabbed at Dominic’s throat, almost cutting off his breath. He froze, his gaze on the empty plate, as his heart seemed to leap in a suicidal dash against the wall of his chest. It hurt.
And he still couldn’t breathe.
Patrick pulled out the chair next to his and sat down on it sideways, so that he was looking directly at Dominic.
Dominic lifted his head to look at him. It felt as if his bones and muscles moved creakily, straining against the shock.
Patrick gave him a small smile. “I don’t think I’m the only one who needs to stop pretending I’m someone I’m not.”
Dominic swallowed. “You son of a bitch….” The words tore at the back of his throat and he could feel the prick of tears in reaction to the pain and the panic that was locking his body down tight. Patrick had turned his ability to hear thoughts back on him in a way no one else had ever thought to try.
Serves you right, a small voice whispered. The voice was his.
“Who are you, really?” Patrick asked softly.
The fear rose up, almost swallowing him. He shook his head. He couldn’t speak. He just couldn’t.
The back door handle rattled and the door opened, bringing in a flood of harsh sunlight and baking heat.
“Hey,” Roman said. “I expected to find Dominic passed out on the floor and you curled up in a corner.”
Patrick got to his feet. “I got some food into him. He was swaying, afterward.” Patrick’s big frame hid Dominic from Roman’s gaze and it might have been a coincidence, except that he was suddenly unsure about anything Patrick might do. While Patrick kept him out of sight, Dominic fought off the looming panic attack, forcing himself to breathe.
“A feed for a feed. Seems fair.” Roman sniffed. “And coffee, too. Well done.”
Dominic could feel Patrick’s minor irritation and the mental reminder to himself that Roman meant well, even if it did come off sounding condescending. Feeling the flow of Patrick’s crystal clear thoughts helped Dominic to pull himself together. Deliberately, he dipped into Roman’s mind and felt the same muddy incoherency he got from most vampires and all humans, unless he really worked at piercing the chaos.
Situation normal.
That helped him sit up and then push himself to his feet and step around Patrick. “He did better than you know,” he told Roman, who was swinging his car keys around one finger as he sized up the situation.
“No, Dominic,” Patrick said softly.
Roman’s eyes narrowed.
An electronic warble saved Dominic from having to come up with something to deflect Roman’s interest. Roman dug into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. “Sorry, I have alerts set for any hot news.” He glanced at the screen then at Patrick. “TV?”
“I don’t have one.” Patrick shrugged.
“Here.” Dominic pulled out his own cell phone and pulled up the TV app. “Channel?”
“CNN.”
He put the phone on the corner of the counter where they could all gather around it and see the small screen.
Chapter Six
Simone’s and Jake’s text messages arrived almost simultaneously, exhorting Blythe to watch CNN now. She was already watching. Everyone was staring at the screen mounted in the corner of the lunchroom already, including her, even though she had been starving hungry five minutes before.
It was Times Square. The billboards gave that away. New York was having a gray, wet day, unlike the Indian summer L.A. was staggering through. They were three hours ahead, so it was already four o’clock there and rush hour was just starting to gear up…or had been until the creature had been spotted.
It was almost surreal to see Times Square empty of people and the traffic at a complete standstill, yet there it was on the screen.
The focus of the cameras was a single lone figure standing on the sidewalk motionless, rain dripping from its arms…and its wings.
Blythe began to catalogue the features almost automatically, measuring potential strengths and weaknesses. The thing, the being, had enormous wings that really did look like they were made up of big white feathers, except with the rain the feathers would be plastered down and pretty useless. Nevertheless, the being didn’t have the wings tucked up behind him—or her—where they seemed to emerge. There was a hinge in the wings and they were lifted up in a spread “M” shape, the tips of the wings spread out, as if they would straighten up with a snap at any second. The wings kept moving slowly back and forth, opening and closing. Blythe had no idea what she was looking at, although she knew without doubt that the wings were moving that way to keep them ready for sudden take off.
The creature was feeling threatened.
In the foreground of the camera, she could see more than a dozen of New York’s finest uniforms all huddled together behind Plexiglas riot shields, taking one slow step at a time toward the creature, while the rest of New York shrank back, watching in unnatural silence.
Even the TV anchor wasn’t speaking.
The creature had two legs that it stood upon, upright like a human. It had a discernable face and arms. Everything else was different. Alien.
The face had a nose— a rather small one. There was a mouth that was vaguely human. The two eyes were huge things and even though the camera was zoomed in from far away and details were fuzzy, the eyes still looked…sad. It reminded Blythe of Manga images, of people with huge, soulful eyes. This creature’s eyes were also filled with bewilderment.
Stop anthropomorphizing! she told herself sternly. She didn’t even know yet what this creature was called, let alone whether it felt anything like emotions or feelings. Projecting human reactions upon it could be a tactical mistake.
The eyes did look sad. The slump in the creature’s shoulders looked dejected. The way it stood there in the rain, staring at the slowly approaching squad of policemen was almost…pathetic.
It was wearing what looked like a metal skin. She wondered if it was a carapace, like insects had, protecting the vulnerable internal organs. Or it could simply be armor. She couldn’t make assumptions just yet.
The top of the head was the weirdest part of it, once she had got over the wings themselves. It looked like feathers and bone were growing straight out of the top of the head. The bone stood up like long fingers, making an elongated sort of crown, while the feathers shot straight up from the forehead in an elegant V-shape that formed a peak that reminded her of birds, except these feathers were spread out, instead of brushing up into a point. It was an odd cross between a Vegas show girl’s headpiece and a woodpecker’s raked-back crest.
“It’s gotta be one of those angel things they was talking about,” Doris Estrada said, around her mouthful of Dairy Queen.
With a jolt, Blythe remembered the notes that Jake had been taking last night. Ĉiela—angels. Elah—the most human. Summanus—the really bad guys.
“It’s a Ĉiela,” she said.
Everyone glanced at her, surprised.
“Not the other ones?” Doris said. “The…the…lar, something.”
“El-lah,” Blythe said, emphasizing the difference. “The wings says this is one of the Ĉiela. The Elah look sort-of human, they said.”
Jimmy Zimmer, who tended to sit in the corner and just listen, most days, gave her a sharp look. “Scoping out the enemy, Major?”
Blythe could feel herself blushing. “They’re called The Others, by the vampires,” she said as evenly as she could.
Jimmy Zimmer didn’t stop looking at her. “So they do,” he said finally.
“Oh! Oh! Look!” Doris cried.
Blythe turned back to look at the screen, just as the Ĉiela—she was almost certain it was a Ĉiela—spread its wings out. They really did seem to snap into a locked position, too. Something had spooked it, or the police had gotten too close. They were only a dozen feet away now.
The creature bent its knees and sprang straight up into the air. The wings gave a mighty beat, then another, as the crowd in Times Square
and Doris Estrada cooed and squealed. The two powerful down strokes had lifted the creature up higher than the billboard behind it. The billboards were huge in Times Square. The biggest was nearly eight stories high. So the creature could leap from a standing start up to nearly ninety feet with minimal effort. It certainly hadn’t had to take off like a weighed-down albatross.
That spoke of huge power in just the wings.
What else was powerful about it?
What else could it do?
The Ĉiela kept rising, the wings beating steadily, until the camera couldn’t track it any more. Then the broadcast cut back to the studio anchor, who looked as dazed as Blythe felt.
The world had proof now. Vampires were real. The Others were real.
And all Blythe could think about was her kids, out there alone.
Vulnerable.
She got to her feet. “I have to get back to the desk early,” she said to the whole room. She swept her uneaten lunch back into the bag and stuffed it in her locker, her heart beating hard. Her appetite had fled.
* * * * *
European Union Headquarters, Brussels, Belgium
Rick wondered briefly if the heads of the European Union were trying to wear him down with the repetitious cycle of questions, or if they simply didn’t understand.
Either was a possibility. He had been invited to the interview. The invitation, delivered by four men in suits and quiet manners, sitting in their little cottage in the Cotswolds and overpowering the decor, had held the flavor of a command.
Rick had welcomed the chance to speak to the collective heads of Europe and had willingly accepted the invitation. That they seemed to know who and what Marcus was and readily agreed to him coming along had been reassuring. Marcus was in one of the interpreter booths, probably swearing a blue streak at the time this was taking.
Marcus had been offended by nearly every human reaction to the vampires coming out and had spent the last week in a foul mood that only lifted when Ilaria came into the room. Rick understood that Marcus was fuming over the petty insults, the rudeness and prying that Rick had gone through since the revelation. He had volunteered for this, though. They all had. It was necessary in order to warn humans.
And now that humans had seen the Ĉiela in Times Square, the whole world suddenly wanted a piece of the nearest vampire. In Europe, Rick was the most visible vampire besides Sir Stevens-Bowes, who was now just James Stevens-Bowes. His hereditary title had been stripped from him within hours of the press conference. Another small price. James had escaped to the Scottish Highlands so now, Rick was it.
He didn’t let any of his thoughts show on his face. Instead he gave the chairman a polite smile. “I didn’t say we had estimates of the Others’ numbers, Mr. Chairman. I said that we had guessed what their numbers might be.”
“An educated guess is another way of saying an estimate, is it not?” The chairman stared down at him from behind his high blue table. Rick sat at a folding table in the middle of the hall, surrounded on all sides by the blue desks that climbed up to the gallery and booth level, where Marcus was.
Rick wished he was there, too. He kept his smile in place. “Estimates are based on solid intelligence, Mr. Chairman. We have no intelligence about the Others at all. I assure you, we have merely guessed at what their numbers might be, based on the very little we know about them. The facts we do have predate modern civilization and much has changed. In this matter, vampires are as blind as humans.”
“And you have no military strategies to provide us?”
“I am not a soldier, Mr. Chairman. Any military advice vampires could give you would be hampered by the staleness of our information.”
“Yet you say you are here on Earth to defend humans.”
“To help you fight off the Others, Mr. Chairman. Humans will need to defend themselves.”
“That makes you a rather useless guardian, does it not?”
Rick held very still, riding out his impatience. “On the contrary,” he said carefully. “Vampires have been helping humans defend themselves throughout history. You simply were not aware of that fact until now.”
“Yet you say you are not a soldier.”
Rick held still again. He borrowed Marcus’ trick and mentally counted to ten. “Mr. Chairman,” he began again, forcing himself to a reasonable tone. “When I was human, I fought the Normans when they invaded England. Later I fought Fatamids in Jerusalem, Saracens in Acre and the French every time they twitched in England’s direction. I’ve fought Germans, the Irish and the entire Scottish rebellion. I have faced the Red Army, invading Vikings and Palestinians who just wanted their country back. Every time the community I was living in was threatened, I took up arms and defended that country and the humans in it. We have all fought for and defended humans, whenever it was needed.” He gave a wry smile. “We live a very long time, Mr. Chairman, so it would be fair to say we have all done our share of defending the human race, as up until now it seemed to be bent on self-destructing.” He paused. “In all that time I have never been a professional soldier.”
* * * * *
Marcus realized someone was standing next to him in the dark booth just before they spoke.
“Your friend is a very cool customer, Marcus Anderson.”
Marcus turned away from the view of the EU assembly hall, down below, to glance at the newcomer. Tall, very slender, with thin, brown cheeks and a narrow chin. Big brown eyes. The name came to him automatically. Adam Bouteflika. “Are you here with the French delegation, Adam?”
Adam smiled, revealing slightly crooked teeth that were nevertheless very white. “That would make sense, wouldn’t it?”
“As this is the EU, it would be an adequate lie.”
Adam’s eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”
“Tell me,” Marcus said, turning back to watch Rick be filleted by the assembly. “Do the French know they have invited Jordanian intelligence into the heart of their union?”
Silence.
Marcus glanced at Adam and didn’t bother hiding his grin. “You really think we didn’t know that you weren’t the Algerian French national you claimed to be?”
Adam pressed his lips together. “Even in Morocco, you knew?”
“I knew within a week of meeting you that your real name is Abd Al-Malik and that you are a high ranking member of the Dairat al-Mukhabarat al-Ammah. You were being coy, so no one said anything.”
Adam grimaced. “I suppose it was easier to keep an eye on me that way.” He had been educated in England. His accent was British, with a small hint of the exotic cadences of the Middle East.
“Exactly.”
Adam gave a tiny shrug. “Identities and loyalties are rather passé now, aren’t they?” He nodded toward the window and down at the floor of the assembly hall, where Rick sat in the cleared-out center, the focus of everyone’s attention. “We all have a common enemy now.”
“Is that why you’re in this booth? To shore up an ally for Jordan?”
“That’s for the diplomats to sort out,” Adam replied. “I did slip in here to listen to your friend’s interview. Intelligence on the Others is in short supply. My people are keen to learn all they can about the new enemy.”
“So instead, you’re standing here talking to me.” Marcus didn’t believe more than ten percent of what Adam was saying and even as he spoke, he was trying to figure out what the man’s angle was. What did he really want?
“There is a strange rumor going around,” Adam began, then paused.
Marcus didn’t rush in to help him. Instead, he looked back down at Rick and waited the intelligence officer out. It wasn’t like he had asked for this conversation.
“They say you and he…” Adam hesitated again, this time with a delicate pause. When Marcus looked at him, he lifted his chin a little jerk to indicate Rick, down below.
Marcus couldn’t help the smile that formed. “Are you asking if I’m living with a vampire?”
“I suppose, yes. That is
what I am asking.”
“No, I’m not living with a vampire,” Marcus said.
Adam’s lips pursed and he gave a small nod, as if this was the answer he had been expecting and was satisfied with it.
“I’m living with two of them,” Marcus finished.
Adam’s eyes widened, just a little, before he got himself under control. His features returned to the tanned, smooth and urbane expression he habitually wore. “I suppose there are a great many truths that will be uncovered in the next few weeks, now that the dam has been broken.”
“I wasn’t hiding it,” Marcus pointed out. “Although you’re the first with guts enough to ask me directly. I’m wondering why, though.”
Adam gave one of the Latinate shrugs that seemed to say everything and nothing at the same time. “You have a reputation as a loose cannon. Perhaps everyone else did not ask because they did not wish to risk your reaction to such a question.”
“Exactly. It’s a personal question. Why do you care who I’m fucking? It’s not like you can put the squeeze on me by threatening either of them. Both of them could break every bone in your body and grind them into dust with their fingers if you tried anything and Ilaria is barely a hundred pounds even with her clothes on.”
Adam held up his hand. “I wanted to know if the rumors were true because it is difficult to find people who have accepted the fact of vampires and the coming war. You sleep with two of them. You know a war is coming. You will hear me when I say what I must.”
Marcus studied him. “Are you here on your own, Adam? Does the Mukhabarat know you are here?”
“I told them I wanted to hear what Europe’s most prominent vampire had to say.” Adam shrugged. “I heard what they were whispering about you and I thought there was a good chance you would be here in Belgium, too.”
“And now you’ve found me?”
Adam drew in a breath. “We have listened very carefully to all that has been said about the Others. Not many of my brethren believe such things, of course…even the Ĉiela in New York City was dismissed as more creative American television. We have been monitoring, anyway. The more cautious among us believe that it is wise to keep tabs upon a possible enemy.” He gave a disarming smile. “In Jordan, we are surrounded by enemies. Monitoring all of them is a habit we cannot halt now.”
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