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 looki
ng 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.
Knights of Black Swan, Books 7-9 (Knights of Black Swan Box Set Book 3) Page 21