Glen looked into his goblet like it was a crystal ball before taking a drink of red wine. “Nothing worth mentioning.”
“Well, that can’t be true. I mean, wasn’t your first assignment to fill in as Z Team’s fourth and try to redeem them? There has to be several hours’ worth of stories there alone.”
Glen cut off a bite of lamb and began to chew. “It would bore you to tears.”
“I doubt that. I’m not easily bored.” When Glen added nothing more, Monq said, “That was rough business out there with K Team.”
Glen hesitated. “Yeah. It was. Poor son-of-a-bitch.”
“You mean Falcon?”
“Yes.” Glen looked over at Monq like he was dim. “I mean Falcon.”
“He must have cared a great deal for Mademoiselle Bonheur.”
Glen shrugged. “Apparently.”
“I heard the Storm girl is here. Weren’t you close with her years ago?”
Monq made a mental note of everything he saw. Glen tensed, stopped chewing and sat back, looking guarded. “I knew her.” He did his best to sound ambivalent.
“Hmmm. Well. Tell me about your time with Z Team.”
Glen raised an eyebrow while he took another drink of wine. He found that deflecting always worked. People would always rather talk about themselves. “You said you want to catch up. So you start. What have you been up to?” It would have been a better question if Glen had made it sound like there was any genuine interest supporting the query.
Monq noted the tactic and decided to play along. He couldn’t expect to get what he was unwilling to give.
“Well,” he began, “I know you can imagine my disappointment when the vampire virus surged back stronger than ever, because you’ve had to deal with the consequences in the field. Since then, I’ve been highly motivated to find something else that works. As you can imagine, I’m sure.
“Eventually we found a cure for cancer. So I’m operating on the theory that, if I just stay after it, I’m bound to come across something that works. Fortunately for me, and I mean that sincerely, I’m well-funded.
“Right now I’m embarking on a new set of trials that will introduce little bits of real vampire blood to our captives. My hope is that, in the right dosage, it might kill the virus. Or, if not that, stabilize the minds of the victims so that they can think like humans. If we could achieve that result, we could probably create a synthetic diet that would suffice. Of course they would have to be quarantined from the general population because they would still be a danger, but we might be able to curtail the continual spread of the disease.
“It’s too early to start talking about either result, but I’m hopeful.”
Glen gave every sign of paying attention, even appearing to care about what was being said. Moreover, he seemed to relax within minutes after the topic of discussion shifted away from him. Monq decided the matter was too deep seated to rush. So he would be content with gaining trust.
“The Frenchies going along with this?”
“Yes. Jean Etienne is on board.”
“If you give the vampire you’re holding immortal blood…” he paused and looked at the wine in his goblet, “you’re not afraid it might make them immortal? What if it made them immortal and that was the only change?”
“Out of the frying pan, into the fire?”
“We’d have virus vamps who couldn’t be killed.”
Monq sighed deeply. “I admit it’s a risk although we’re going to try to mitigate that possibility by beginning with amounts too tiny to have a lasting effect.”
“You can’t know that. Introducing immortal blood? You have no idea what the effect will be.”
“That’s the burden of risk, isn’t it? You think it’s worth the gamble? Or not?”
“Who cares what I think?”
“I do. I wouldn’t have asked you otherwise. It wasn’t a patronizing question.”
“It wasn’t? So, in other words, my answer will have some effect on how you proceed?” Monq frowned at that. “Yeah.” Glen chuckled. “That’s what I thought.”
Glen finished his lamb and pushed back from the table.
“Dessert?” Monq asked.
“No sugar, doc.” Glen’s hand went straight to his rock-hard abs as if to demonstrate the physical rigors expected of a field-active Black Swan knight. “Well,” he stood up, “thanks for dinner and, ah, ‘catching up’. See ya.”
Monq watched Glen leave without saying a word. He called the kitchen to come pick up the dinner setup and then headed over to Area Thirteen, where the vampire were kept.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Monq nodded at members of his staff on the way past and found Kristoph Falcon sitting on the floor outside the cell of the captive vampire.
He sat down on the floor next to Falcon, which was neither easy nor pleasant for someone his age. The floor was hard and, regardless of the fact that the sublevel was heated, it was cold to the touch. He immediately felt the chill seep through his pants where his body came in contact with the cement and wondered if it would aggravate the advancing arthritis.
“Sir Falcon,” he said. He hoped that the use of the formal title would bring Falcon into the moment so that Monq could get an accurate reading on his state of mind.
Falcon’s eyes appeared to clear. As he turned his head to the side and looked at Monq, he gritted his teeth. “You’re not going to kill her. I’ll kill you first.”
“I see,” Monq replied with a detached professional calm that gave no hint his life had just been threatened. “Have no fear. The vampire is not in any danger at present.” He looked at the vampire, whose unwavering gaze was unnerving, then turned his attention back to Falcon. “Is that why you’re here? You’re afraid she’ll be killed if you aren’t watching?”
“Isn’t that what you do when you’re finished with the ones you keep down here? Isn’t that what we do? Every day? We kill them. Right?”
“We do, but this one is different, special in several ways. For one thing a female is very rare, as you know. I’ve never had a chance to study one for clues as to why they are rare. Up to now we’ve had nothing but speculation. For another thing, this vampire used to be a person we all knew. And liked.” That got Falcon’s attention. “We’re going to try to find a way to bring her back.”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not. Why would I?”
“To get me to leave.”
“I admit that I’d like to see you have something to eat and get some rest. Will you not take my word that she’s not in danger?”
“No. I won’t take your word. If you want me to eat and sleep, then bring me some food and a bed. I’m not leaving here.”
That evening Monq had made two attempts at getting knights to trust him and he was batting zero for two. He wondered if he was losing his touch.
“If there’s really no way I can change your mind about that then so be it. You can stay on one condition. You don’t interfere with our experiments. If you do not abide by my condition, I will not hesitate to have you removed. Understood?”
Falcon looked at Monq like he was really seeing him for the first time and nodded.
Monq had a moment’s trouble getting his knees to agree to help him stand. He’d gone stiff sitting on the floor for even that short time. He ambled away leaving Falcon exactly like he found him.
Half an hour later Kris Falcon heard wheel noise growing louder. He couldn’t have been more surprised to see a cart laden with a four course meal being pushed by the Area Thirteen guard on duty, who’d accepted it from kitchen staff. That was closely followed by a hospital bed, with two pillows and big thick blankets, being delivered by two of Monq’s staff who’d gotten the bed from the infirmary.
With a grateful look at the people delivering his requests, he said, “Thank you.”
After ordering food and bedding for Falcon, Monq had dialed the Sovereign.
“Yeah,” Rev said.
“Falcon and Catch are off rotation unt
il further notice.”
“Are you shitting me?!?”
“I beg your pardon. Could I speak to the Sovereign? The one who has an absolute no-common-language policy?”
“Don’t talk to me about language. If you crawled up out of the ground now and then maybe you’d know we’re at war with an all new and improved vampire virus.”
Monq bristled at that and was on the verge of depleting his own well of patience. “I’m more aware than most. I’m the guy who’s trying to find a new cure. Remember?”
“I remember. What I’m saying is that I cannot be down two knights. I need them.”
“I sympathize, but it can’t be helped. These two are not fit for duty at the moment.”
“What the blazes am I supposed to do?”
“How should I know? Call up Z Team!”
“This place is already in enough of a shambles without turning those fuckwads loose on J.U. Again.”
“You know, I don’t want to beat a dead point, but this u-turn you’ve done on colorful language is a big change. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m careful about what I say around the kids.”
“No judgment. Just an observation. Why don’t you call up B Team?”
“When was the last time you poked your head up out of your hole? B TEAM IS ALREADY IN SERVICE! Except for Elora. She’s pregnant. Fennimore was standing in for her, but he has the flu so I stood in for him last night. And I feel guilty all the time about sending those guys out on the street because every one of them is too damn old. They want to be retired, concentrating on growing grapes or puppies or horses as the case may be. And they should be!”
“I’m hearing that you’re under a lot of stress and that it’s coupled with guilt. Would you like to come down and talk about it?”
“What?! NO!”
“Well, door’s always open. You could call up Dr. Renaux and get her husband to fill in.”
After a pause, Rev said, “That’s a possibility. Although it wouldn’t make my step-daughter-in-law any fonder of me. Also, they’re in the Amazon right now, days away from an airstrip. Infirmary says Harvest should be good to go in another two days, which means he’ll be back on the street before Nightsong could even get here. ”
“You almost make me glad I’ve got my problems instead of yours. I’ll keep you posted on Catch and Falcon.”
“Yeah. Do that,” he grumbled.
Wakenmann showed up just as Falcon was finishing dinner and said, “Hey.” His gaze went straight to the vampire in the glass-fronted cell. Few things were more unsettling than seeing a vampire in captivity, but the way she was focused on Falcon was so disturbing it was hard to look away.
“Hi,” Falcon said. “What do you want?”
“Is that any way to talk to your best friend?”
Falcon sighed. “Okay. How about this? I need a john break. Will you watch her while I go?”
“Watch her?”
“Yeah.”
“What exactly am I watching for?” Wakey glanced at the cell then tilted his head to the side when he asked, “What do you think she’s going to do?”
“It’s not what she’s going to do, farts-for-brains. It’s what they might do to her if I’m not here.”
“What do you think they might do if you’re not here?”
“Just watch her. Okay? Make sure nobody comes near her with…”
“A green-wood-bullet pistol, for instance?”
“Yeah.”
Wakey quietly appraised his friend for a few seconds. “Okay. I’ll be here.”
Falcon relaxed visibly. “Thanks, man. It was getting hard to hold.”
“Enough info, all right? Just go.”
Falcon started away, but turned back with a scowl on his face. “You wouldn’t break your word. Thinking you were doing me a favor or something. Would you?”
Wakey gaped with his mouth open. “You going paranoid on me? I’m the one who hit my head when you slammed me into that wall. No! I’m not going to tell you one thing and do another. It’s me you’re talking to.”
Falcon attempted a small smile. “Yeah. Sorry.”
“Go.”
Wakenmann took Falcon’s perch on the side of the hospital bed to wait for his friend to return. The vampire shifted the focus of her attention to Wakey. He started whistling, “Row, Row, Row Your Boat” to distract himself, but distraction was difficult because her gaze was strangely compelling. He felt like one of those prey animals that are supposedly hypnotized by snakes, and suspected that the vampire would be the subject of night terrors for years to come.
On arrival she’d been cleaned up and changed into plain blue scrubs. So at least he didn’t have to look at the thing with the bloodstains and smears she’d been wearing when they’d first come upon her in the alley.
He understood why Falcon was worried that someone would kill it while he was gone to the bathroom. All Wakenmann’s instincts as a vampire hunter told him to do it himself. Perhaps that was why Falcon was worried about leaving it unprotected. It was easier for Wakenmann to try and think of the creature as ‘it’ because it was disturbing to bestow personhood on a vampire. But it was just as disturbing to see the soulless shell of a person whom he’d known housing a vampire. He’d liked Genevieve, but she was no longer home.
“Hey,” he said to the poor creature inside the holding cell. “Don’t you have something else to look at?”
If it registered at all in the vampire’s brain that he’d spoken, she hid it well.
CHAPTER NINE
Day Two - Psych Eval
The next morning Glen reported to the Sovereign’s office as requested. Rev’s door was closed when he arrived, but the duty admin rose and showed him in right away. Rev didn’t even look away from his monitor. Without a greeting or any semblance of pleasantry, he said, “Catch, you’re off rotation until further notice.”
Lines formed between Glen’s brows. “Off rotation? Why?”
“You need some down time.”
“Who says?”
Glen felt panic rise in his chest. Off rotation? Without vampire hunting, what did he have to hold onto? Nothing. He’d be afloat on a raft in a sea of emptiness.
That tone got Rev’s full attention. He looked up from the monitor and said evenly, “Because you and I have history, I’m going to pretend you did not just use that tone with me or question my order. The fact that you did only firms up my thinking that you’re in need of down time. Bottom line. When Monq clears you to return to duty, you’re back. Not before.”
A muscle in his jaw rippled visibly. “Monq.”
“Get on his schedule. The sooner you get things sorted, the sooner you’ll be back on the roster. And I need you back on that roster.”
“I know you do.” Under his breath, he said, “Everybody needs me on their roster.”
“What was that?” The Sovereign was getting that severe expression that meant Glen had pushed his luck and overstayed his welcome.
“Nothing. Sir.”
Glen stalked out of the office and fumed, nostrils flaring, all the way to Monq’s complex, which consisted of offices, labs, quarters for himself and some of the staff and, of course, the vampire specimens. Glen went straight to Monq’s office and happened to find him there. He stormed in and stood in front of Monq’s desk, shifting from foot to foot like he couldn’t stand to be inside his own body a moment longer.
“What did you tell the Sovereign about me?”
Monq looked up from whatever task he was addressing and managed to sound semi-cheerful. “Glen.” He glanced at the door Glen had left standing open. “Come in.”
“What did you tell the Sovereign to get me pulled from duty?”
Monq sat back, looking unperturbed. “That you’ve been overworked.”
“That’s BULLSHIT!” Glen shouted.
Then he proceeded to punctuate that declaration by picking up a priceless Chinese vase and smashing it against the nearest mahogany bookshelf. While Glen went ab
out dismantling much of the office, Monq sat back in his chair and watched, looking as dispassionate as if the hunter was bacteria on a slide.
By the time Glen was finished with his spree of destruction, three-quarters of the books were off the shelves. One chair was broken beyond repair. A ficus tree was shredded and leafless. And numerous curiosities with value known only to Monq had been rendered trash.
Hearing the racket, Monq’s staff had come to the door looking alarmed and wide-eyed. Monq had held up his hand to stay them. After a couple of minutes they had backed away and gone about their business assured by faith that, if anybody on Earth knew what he was doing, it must be Thelonious Monq.
Glen stood panting, in a half crouch, looking at Monq like he was waiting for a reaction.
“Dinner here again tonight. Seven o’clock,” was all Monq said.
In response, Glen picked up the heavy pot that had held the ficus tree and, with a frustrated snarl amplified by werewolf vocal cords, threw it against the flat screen monitor that projected Monq’s illusion of a fireplace. The glass fractured into an ugly web of shards as dirt spilled out of the cracked pot and onto the carpet. Monq’s office looked like a horde of barbarians had swept through. It didn’t seem possible that one guy could have done so much damage in less than ten minutes. Glen stared at his handiwork for a couple of seconds before walking out without a backward glance toward Monq.
Six hours later Glen arrived at Monq’s door. At precisely seven o’clock. The door was open. Monq was behind his desk. Glen stood at the threshold and looked around the room without entering.
Everything was in its place. Books were on the shelves. A cheerful video fire flickered from a shiny black monitor built into the wall underneath the fireplace mantel. There was even a new ficus tree in an identical pot, although it did appear to be somewhat larger and fluffier than the one Glen had destroyed.
Knights of Black Swan, Books 7-9 (Knights of Black Swan Box Set Book 3) Page 66