Knights of Black Swan, Books 7-9 (Knights of Black Swan Box Set Book 3)

by Victoria Danann

  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.”