Justin could feel his jaw unhinging and clamped it closed again. “What on earth makes you think I’m going to do a barmy thing like that?”
Dionne smiled and this time it was a slow, knowing smile. “Because I’ve dropped enough tantalizing facts in the last fifteen seconds that you weren’t aware of, Justin Edward Kelly, that you will get me into that room just to find out what else I know.”
Damn, but the bloody sheila was right.
Chapter Twelve
The Agency satellite station. 2263 A.D.
Both men stared at the man called Demyan as if he were spouting Shakespeare in Finnish. Cáel could almost feel their amazement.
Even Pritti sat up on her table, her attention caught.
Christos said, “You’re plain daft, lad.”
Demyan shook his head. “I came straight here as soon as I knew what had happened. I watched her make the jump, Brenden. I know a mental theft when I feel one.” He crossed his arms. “The Psi know how to jump through time. They’ve figured it out...or someone taught them.”
Ryan glanced at Brenden. “Get Rob here. He’s a natural strategist. And Christian.”
Brenden stared into middle-distance for a moment. “They’re coming,” he announced.
Ryan turned to Demyan. “Demyan Romanov, this is Assemblyman Stelios.”
Demyan nodded at him, raking his dark brown eyes from top to bottom in one sweeping glance. Cáel knew he had been measured and weighed in that single glance. He wondered if he had been found wanting or not. Vampires were quick to judge, but then, they had spent centuries learning how to do it and were extraordinarily accurate.
He glanced at Pritti. Her little girl voice still echoed in his mind. “Beautiful, inside and out.” What had she seen inside him? He was human. She could dip inside his mind at will, even though she wasn’t supposed to without his permission.
Pritti was watching him and as he glanced at her, she gave him a smile and licked the last of the chocolate from the corner of her mouth.
The kitchen doors slid open and Christian and the man that Cáel had learned was called either Rob or Charbonneau, or sometimes Black Robert, came through the door. Rob was dark haired, blue eyed and thick across the shoulders, while Christian was even taller and had a build that Cáel identified as that of a master swordsman.
They stepped into the loose circle around the table that Pritti sat on. “Brenden said urgent?” Rob said.
“Tell us what happened, from the beginning,” Ryan instructed Demyan. “Everyone, sit down. Listen hard.”
There was a shuffle of chairs and feet as everyone obeyed and Ryan sat last and nodded to Demyan.
Demyan told the tale of his journey back to ancient Rome with his companion client, called Jane Alexander and Cáel listened with deep interest. There was a wealth of information about how the agency worked in Demyan’s words and much more in what was not spoken.
Demyan was a good story-teller. Absorbed silence greeted his words, until he related the moment when Jane Alexander had stolen his thoughts and feelings and then disappeared.
“She may have merely teleported to somewhere else in Rome,” Demyan finished. “But I don’t think so. She deliberately roused my emotions and made sure strong feelings were present. She was making sure the marker was a reliable one for her. Then she took the images, the marker, from me. She wanted to ensure a way back.”
“Why not use her own emotions and images?” Christian asked. “Worlds know, they’re excitable enough people.”
Brenden shook his head. “Excitable, yes. But everything’s so glancing and superficial with them. Laughter one moment, tears the next...my apologies, Pritti.”
Pritti had been moving up closer to the group as they spoke. Now she hunched her shoulders a little and gave a bashful smile. “We are what we are. Some find us delightful.” And she looked up at the giant Brenden with a glance that made him move awkwardly on his chair.
“Nevertheless, if they can’t focus in on strong enough emotions, the marker isn’t sure enough. They could jump and find themselves in quantum no-man’s-land, or wherever you find yourself if your landing isn’t rock solid. Thankfully, no-one’s ever gone missing to find out.”
“That we know about,” Ryan added. “Brenden, I’m more than curious to know how a psi got past our bio scans. She should have set every alarm off. The psi DNA pattern is unmistakeable.”
“I want to know that myself,” Christos said. “I started running through the Chronologic client files as Demyan finished his story.” He brought his forefinger to his temple. “And I placed a couple of calls. You’ll have your answer as soon as I do.”
“Good.” Ryan sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Next question is...why? What do they want with that marker?”
Cáel cleared his throat, hesitant about speaking up. “How would they know how to jump through time? Isn’t it a closely guarded secret?”
“No,” Ryan said, surprisingly. “Time-jumping is relatively simple. Teleportation is an inherent skill all vampires have. What Salathiel first learned is that jumping from place to place is no different than jumping from time to time. His contact with the psi showed him what he could already do. The gift that vampires bring to time-jumping is their perfectly preserved, crisp, clear and very long memories, replete with strong emotions and feelings. Psi don’t have that advantage.”
“Hell, they’re lucky if they can remember last week,” Brenden added. “They live at Mach 10, it’s all a blur to most of them.”
Pritti poked her tongue at him.
“Am I lying?” he demanded of her.
She pouted like a two-year-old and looked away.
Ryan deftly turned the conversation away. “It’s no surprise that psi might also figure out how to jump time and even less surprise they’d mug vampires for the markers they need. It’s the why that bothers me. What in the Worlds does Ancient Rome hold for them that they can’t get here?”
Demyan cleared his throat a little. “Most people have the wrong impression about Rome. My client wanted to meet patricians, not plebs. I was thinking...maybe the reputed freedom of the patricians appeals to them. No hard work, waited on hand and foot, food and wine in abundance. Free sex, wherever and whenever you want it, even orgies on demand. Most psi would embrace such a lifestyle with cries of joy.”
“If it really existed,” Christian added, with the tone of one who knows better. Even Brenden and Ryan nodded.
Something nagged at Cáel, niggling at the back of his mind. Something one of them had said. But the conversation was moving on. Brenden had his hand out, as if he were making an offering.
“I have many contacts out there—”
Christian laughed.
Brenden scowled, but kept speaking. “Some of the conversations I’ve had with those contacts lately have been speculation about the psi. How they’ve been showing...solidarity. Organization. Even forethought, if you can believe it.”
Rob shook his head. “That’s an unsettling idea.”
Ryan was frowning, tugging at his lip. “If it’s true, it still leaves us with a gaping, unanswered ‘why.’ Brenden, keep milking your contacts, see if you can learn more. And I want to know how a psi managed to pose as human. And there’s a secondary thought—where did they get the money to pay for the tour? That’s a serious amount of money and psi aren’t known for their thrift.”
Brenden got to his feet. “As soon as I can,” he rumbled and headed for the door.
“Demyan, sit down with Security for your usual de-briefing, only this time I want you to examine every moment with a proverbial microscope for whatever implications we can find.”
Demyan nodded and left. To Cáel, he looked preoccupied and not about the events in Rome.
Ryan leaned back in his chair to look directly at Pritti. “Do you have anything you can tell me?”
She coyly dropped her cheek to her shoulder and blinked at Ryan. “I don’t like messing with the ruffle-heads. They scare me.”
“Doesn’t mean you haven’t,” Ryan said evenly, not at all moved by her crystalline, innocent gaze.
Amazingly, her eyes filled with tears, that slithered down her cheeks, without marring her smooth perfection. “You don’t believe me,” she whispered.
“Not usually,” Ryan returned. He got to his feet and moved around the chairs towards her. “I could always just find out for myself,” he growled, reaching for her arm.
Pritti moved with a speed that Cáel had trouble following. From floor to table, to another table, to the top of a high cupboard against the wall. While the second table still rocked from the sudden changes in weight, she stared down at Ryan from her perch. “It hurts when you read my mind,” she said, pouting.
Ryan made no move to follow her. “Then convince me you had nothing to do with this matter,” he said. “And don’t teleport inside the station, Pritti. We’ve discussed this.”
Cáel realized then that she had been teleporting from spot to spot across the room.
Pritti hugged her knees to her chest. “I’m still here, aren’t I? No forethought. No memory. No conscience.” She spat the words, her voice mimicking Brenden’s deep tones. “But I stayed, didn’t I?”
“You...stayed?” Ryan probed carefully.
“Ten years, next week. I said I’d stay and I did. Promised you, I did. You remember, I know you do.”
“Of course I do.”
Suddenly, she was gone. Then she instantly reappeared on the table in front of Ryan, crouched like animal about to spring. “I gave a third of my life, Ryan Daniel Deasmhumhain. You’ve given how much?”
And abruptly she was gone again.
Ryan took a deep breath and turned to face them. “That poor girl. I had to make sure.”
Christian looked grim and sad. “She’s right, though. Who are we to question her loyalty?”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Cáel said. “What did she mean by ‘ten years’?”
“Pritti has worked for the Agency for ten years. Most psi are lucky to live to thirty years old. She’s already given a third of her life to us for no more reason than that we asked her to.”
* * * * *
Spetsopoula, Greece. 2263 A.D.
“Stelios!” Brenden bellowed.
“In here!” Cáel yelled back, tucking a last shirt away in the carryall.
Brenden appeared in the bedroom doorway. “You don’t have an assistant to do that?” he asked.
“I have assistants,” Cáel assured him. “My assistants have assistants. I have so many assistants that figuring out who reports to whom on an organizational chart makes the Stelios family tree blush in shame in comparison and my family, Brenden, can trace their roots back to Alexander the Great. So yes...I have assistants.” He closed the carryall. “I just keep them confined to business and keep my private life private.” He picked up the carryall. “It’s just one way of staying slightly sane.”
Brenden grinned. “And humble. Are you ready?”
“I think the family business will survive another few days without me. Yes.” He glanced over Brenden’s shoulder. “You had no trouble landing in the study?”
“Now you’ve cleared it out, it’s good. Thank you.” Brenden still didn’t move.
“What is it?” Cáel asked.
Brenden rubbed his thumb over his bottom lip. “I’ve been seeing a bit of Lady Harriet Winslow.”
Cáel tried not to show how impressed he was. “She’s married, isn’t she?”
“Yeah. Donald Winslow the Third. He’s your age.”
Cáel nodded. “But he didn’t qualify for regeneration.”
“Harriet’s his fourth wife. She’s got no expectations,” Brenden said. “Her sister is Bridget Dansby.”
“Ah.” Cáel put his carryall down, as the name made the connection in his mind and he realized where Brenden was going with this. “And Bridget is married to Phillip Dansby, a vampire who is passing.”
Brenden nodded. “Dansby isn’t his real name of course. But he knew Ryan, long before the Agency started and eventually Lionel Bird caught up with him and asked him a few questions about a book he was researching.”
Cáel said, “Lionel is a world class researcher. He earned his fee.”
Brenden nodded. “Only Bridget says Lionel did his research nearly a year ago.”
Cáel waited.
Brenden crossed his arms again, making the big biceps bulge. “So I did a bit of research of my own. And I had a wee chat with Lionel Bird.”
Cáel sighed. “He told you the research was completed eight months ago, not a few weeks ago, as I let you believe.”
Brenden leaned against the doorframe, filling it. “Why the lie, Assemblyman? You can see my concern, can’t you?”
“You have no reason to be concerned.”
“You said that the first time you told me about the research, but this adds meaning to it. Why sit on it? Why the delay? What were you doing with it all that time? That’s my concern.”
“Think I was running around building a conspiracy about them, Brenden?” Cáel gave a short laugh. “Live a day in my shoes and you’ll know how ludicrous that idea really is. I don’t have time. The Assembly was in session when I was handed the file and for the first three months, frankly, I did nothing with it. I lived and breathed politics and ate lobbyists for sustenance. Then I finally got to read it and realized...” Cáel took a breath. “I realized how remarkable they really were. How astonishing. I had to think for a while what to do with that information. I wanted to find something truly worthwhile for it.” He shrugged. “And here we are.”
Brenden didn’t move. He watched Cáel, like a cat watches a mouse.
“You said you wanted...one of them,” Brenden said. “That came from the reading, didn’t it?”
Wariness crept through him and Cáel threw it off. He knew the only way he was going to get past Brenden now was to be completely open and honest. Brenden’s suspicions had been raised and he was being a good security officer. And a good friend.
“All the readings,” Cáel admitted. “I read that damned thing enough times that I have parts of it memorized. It was the little hints they let show through the chinks of their armour. Just enough to drive an observant man mad with the need to uncover the rest. So I tried to uncover the rest and was hooked.” He shrugged.
Brenden’s arms dropped. “God almighty, you want them both,” he breathed.
Cáel held out his hands. “And now you have me where you want me, Brenden. My underbelly is utterly exposed.”
“Is that what you think?” Brenden leaned forward and picked up the carryall by the strap. “C’mon, you’re already late. Nayara will yell at me.” He scooped Cáel up almost the same way he had the carryall and jumped forward into his jump, not giving Cáel time to draw breath, let alone respond to his comment.
As a way of changing subjects, it was a show-stopper.
Chapter Thirteen
The Agency satellite station. 2263 A.D.
By the time security were done filleting him, Demyan could feel the growing bone-deep ache that heralded the need to feed and rest. As he wended his way through the maze of back passages to his cramped quarters on the star-side of the station, he admitted to himself that the jump to Rome had depleted his reserves in a way he’d not experienced before.
He would have to be careful to restore his energy completely before he jumped again. Demyan had not had much time for Ezra—like many, he’d found the man’s unending lectures on the woes of vampire-kind tiresome—but Ezra’s death was still a harsh warning to take care of himself. He liked travelling and intended to do it for many years yet.
Pritti was curled up against a structural strut running up the wall opposite the door to his quarters, hugging her knees and rocking herself. When he got closer, she jumped to her feet in one of her balletic movements that usually fascinated him. Her eyes were tear-stained.
“Pritti—” he started, intending to cut her off befor
e she began.
“You said nothing,” she interjected. “Nothing!”
“What did you want me to say? That Brenden isn’t prejudiced about psi in general, just one psi in particular?”
“Why not?” she asked, as he let his door open. “It’s the truth.”
“Everything he said is generally true anyway.”
“But not about me! You could have said that!”
He paused with his hand on the doorsill. “Okay. Fine. I point out that Brenden is merely displaying latent signs of jealousy. They would have nodded wisely and said ‘how do you know that?’ There isn’t a way to answer that question that wouldn’t tell them about...that we’re...whatever it is we are,” he finished, feeling more than a little gauche and stupid.
She curled around him where he stood at the open doorway and looked up at him with her beautiful eyes. “What is so wrong about them knowing about us?” she asked simply.
He’d lived two hundred times longer than Pritti, yet she often made him feel like the child. Like now. He couldn’t maintain contact with her eyes and looked away. “I’m tired, Pritti. I have to rest.”
She stayed silent. He could almost feel her upset. He stepped through the door and let it close. Later. He would speak to her later. The need to feed was becoming a throbbing demand in his skull.
He had taken a single step into the room when she appeared in front of him. She raised her tiny fists and slammed them against his chest, shocking him. “You are ashamed of me!”
“No,” he said instantly. Truthfully.
“You won’t tell them because you would be embarrassed.”
He caught at her wrists and easily held them still. “Pritti, not now. I must...I have to feed and then I must rest.”
“Then when? You have all the time in the world. I don’t.”
“I mean it, Pritti. You think you know vampires because you work with them, but there’s a reason people are afraid of us.”
“I sleep with one, too, but I know him less than I do the others.” Her lips were trembling.
Byzantine Heartbreak Page 13