The Agency, Volume I

by Sylvan, Dianne

  "Fine, but what about the next case? And the next? Do I have to remind you that SA-5 is a fully qualified Agent, and that his gifts can't be utilized to their fullest potential as long as he's stuck here in the base?"

  "We can't know for sure what kind of side effects that thing will have, or if it will even work. What if he gets out there in the middle of town and it breaks?"

  Frog cleared his throat, and though he went beet red when they both turned to stare at him, he spoke up pretty evenly. "With all due respect, SA-7…we've been running tests on the inhibitor for weeks now. Rowan has been wearing it all over the base, even on the Floor during peak hours. It works. It works beautifully. The next logical step is for him to wear it in public."

  Ness nodded. "I've looked over all the readings and notes from the testing so far, and I agree with Frog. The only way we're going to know if we've wasted half a million dollars of taxpayers' money, not to mention months of research and development, is to give it a shot. I've already approved the test, SA-7. What I need now is for one of you two to volunteer as SA-5's bodyguard for the night."

  "Why one of us?" Beck asked. "I mean, I'll totally do it," she flashed Rowan a grin, "but I'm just curious."

  Finally, Rowan spoke up, though he didn't look at Jason. "You're the only two Agents I trust with something this important."

  "Meaning the inhibitor," Jason clarified.

  Rowan lifted his eyes, met Jason's. Jason felt his heart somersault into his throat the way it always did, in spite of his anger, in spite of his fear. "Meaning, my life," Rowan replied quietly.

  God damn it.

  "All right," Jason muttered. "I'll do it."

  "The hell? I just said I would." Beck waved her hand. "Am I invisible now?"

  "As Ness reminded us, I'm the ranking Agent here. For something of this nature, I wouldn't allow anyone with less experience than I have."

  Beck looked from Jason to Rowan, then back again, then sighed. "Whatever, sir."

  "I have a meeting scheduled with Doyle tonight," Jason went on, pretending she hadn't spoken. "I'll take SA-5 with me. The bar is near one of the tunnel entrances, so if something goes wrong we'll be near shelter. On a Tuesday night the streets won't be very crowded."

  Ness nodded again, approving. "Good. SA-5, I'm assuming you remember the protocol for field missions; you defer to SA-7's judgment in all matters once you're out there. Don't get carried away with this—if it works, you'll have plenty of chances to hare off around Austin for fun."

  "Yes, ma'am."

  "Frog, I assume you'll be monitoring the inhibitor from the lab?"

  "Absolutely, ma'am. I've got the program set up and ready."

  "All right, then. I'll expect full reports from all three of you tomorrow. Dismissed."

  *****

  Jason waited in the locker room, anxious and profoundly unhappy, a full ten minutes early. He was dressed, armed, and ready—or as ready as he could be given the size of the bats flying around in his stomach. He'd resisted the urge to pack on every gun he had in his name, mostly due to logic; if a situation arose, getting Rowan to safety would take precedence over filling the enemy with bullets. Still, he checked his weapons a third time. He needed something to do with his hands.

  "Ready?"

  He looked up to see Rowan standing there, as he probably had been long enough to watch Jason fidget. The Elf looked…well, succulent was the only word he could come up with. He was wearing standard SA black, with the addition of a coat that hit him just above the knee. His hair covered the two pieces of the inhibitor behind his ears.

  "Look," Jason said, "I know you're angry at me—"

  "Don't worry about it," Rowan cut him off. "Let's just go."

  "I was only—"

  "I know."

  They stared at each other for a long moment, Jason's whole being at war with itself, before the Elf broke eye contact and walked past him into the hallway.

  The SA had restored much of the old tunnel system that had once connected the bordellos and speakeasies of Austin; they had also added their own passageways, allowing the nocturnal members of the Agency to move around the city during daylight, and allowing any Agent an escape route that led back to base. The exit they headed toward, which came up in the underground back dining area of a popular Indian restaurant, was a ways away, but most of the main tunnels had moving sidewalks that moved almost as fast as a vampire's stride. In deference to Rowan, Jason pushed the button on the wall that turned this one on.

  They passed most of the trip in silence, though he noticed that Rowan looked uneasy, and couldn't help but ask, "Nervous?"

  Rowan glanced around the tunnel. "Not about the test. These tunnels…they make me a little uncomfortable. The subterranean levels of the base are full of people and are much homier. It’s easy to forget you’re underground. Here, it’s nothing but cold metal and rock. I spent far too long in windowless rooms made of steel and stone. I'm just glad these are well-lit."

  Jason cursed himself—they should have gone above at the base and taken a car. "We'll be there soon," he said, attempting a comforting tone that probably sounded patronizing.

  Rowan took a deep breath and changed the subject. "So, Doyle—he's the guy who sold you the Pentecost, right?"

  "Yes. I've been working with him for four years. He's got his ear to the underbelly of the city, maybe even the whole state."

  "What do you know about him?"

  "Not a lot, and I really don't want to know more. I know that he's never steered me wrong."

  Before Rowan could reply, the sidewalk pulled to a stop in front of the Clay Pit exit, and they disembarked, Jason taking the lead.

  He ran his badge over the scanner and gave his authorization code, and the door slid open, revealing…well, not much, except a brick wall.

  A moment later, the brick wall flickered, then vanished.

  "Good evening, Agent 7," a young woman said, beckoning them inside.

  The Clay Pit's lower level, which in any other state would be a basement, was part of the restaurant, but its back wall connected with the tunnels and a holographic generator presented the illusion of more brick back behind the waiters' station. They had to be careful when they used the exit, as it was a popular place and people loved the candlelit ambiance of the underground room.

  Rowan inhaled, smiling. "God, that smells good. I haven't had a decent curry in years."

  Jason shrugged. "If you say so. It's kind of lost on me. I never had much Indian while I was human."

  They took the steep old stairway up into the main restaurant, which was about half-full and bustling with wait staff and bartenders. Jason looked over at Rowan, who reached down to his wrist and did something to the inhibitor; his expression was neutral, however, and when he caught Jason's eye, he nodded.

  "Thank you, Jeanie," Jason said to the waitress who showed them out. He handed her a twenty-dollar bill for her trouble and led Rowan into the streets of Austin.

  "Well?" he asked, pausing just outside.

  Rowan was staring up at the high rises as if he'd never seen such things before; Jason knew he had, but it had been a while, and his unabashed wonder made Jason feel guilty for trying to keep him on base.

  Cars rushed by, and a horse-drawn carriage clattered along Guadalupe; it was about nine o'clock, not too long after a late summer sunset in Texas, and the air was almost tolerably cool. Austin was one of the few cities Jason had lived in that was not horrifically polluted, and in fact a few brave stars poked their noses out of the sky overhead. Looking at it from Rowan's perspective, as if it was all new, Jason had to admit the city in its youthful exuberance made an impression.

  "I smell coffee," Rowan said, and grabbed Jason's arm, dragging him along the street like a child towing a parent into the toy store. "Come on."

  "We don't have time," Jason said, but his resolve was cracked—just seeing the Elf's excitement was enough to undo him. In truth, they did have time; the Clay Pit was less than a ten-minute walk from
the bar where Doyle would meet them at eleven. Jason had anticipated a lot more problems between here and there, but so far it looked like the inhibitor was doing exactly what Frog had insisted it would do: working perfectly.

  Could it really be this easy?

  True to his word, Rowan was on the trail of a nearby coffee bar, a few blocks north where students hung out. Even in midsummer when UT wasn't in session, the place was brimming with twentysomethings, some studying, some outside smoking, all getting caffeinated for a long night doing whatever it was kids did in this decade.

  Rowan stopped at the door and looked around, and Jason could tell he was cataloging the inhibitor's responses to the people inside. He turned the dial on his wrist up, then down, then back up again, nodding to himself, gauging what setting he'd need for this particular kind of group. Satisfied, he pulled Jason along with him up to the bar.

  Something occurred to Rowan, and he asked Jason, "Did you bring any money?"

  Jason chuckled and pulled out his wallet. "I'll have a coffee, black," he told the barista, whose eyes were on Rowan.

  Jason told himself it was because most humans didn't know what to make of a pointy-eared boy with hair down to his back and eyes that precisely matched the leaves of a live oak tree, but truthfully, he knew the real reason the young man was staring. Human or not, Rowan was simply breathtaking, especially smiling as he was, a sweet sort of innocence in his expression that belied both his history and the reasons for their outing.

  Jason forgot all his fears, forgot everything but the creature standing beside him, and reached over to take his hand.

  At first Rowan didn't seem to notice, as he was scrutinizing the menu board above the barista's head, but after a moment he lowered his eyes to their joined hands, and his breath caught.

  The barista saw the gesture and sighed. "What can I get you, beautiful?" he asked Rowan.

  The Elf jerked his head back up and swallowed. "Um…a café mocha, soy, please."

  "You got it."

  Jason had to take his hand away—god, it was almost painful—to produce the cash to pay the boy, and he was too shaken by his own temerity to do it again. They sat down in a booth in the corner, one of the few that was unoccupied, and sipped their drinks, Rowan's discomfort abandoned in favor of a look of pure bliss at the taste.

  "I wish we had time to go to Book People," he said wistfully. "I've heard it's like Mecca. And I wouldn’t mind dinner at that Indian place, either."

  Jason smiled. "You'll have a chance. If that thing keeps working like it is now, you'll be back out here in no time."

  "I hope so. It's almost…it's almost worse, getting to see a tiny piece of the world I've missed, not knowing for sure when I can see it again. Or if."

  "I promise you, Rowan. As soon as we're sure it's safe, one night when we're both off-duty, I'll bring you to Book People. And the Clay Pit."

  "But you don't eat."

  "I'll drink chai and watch you moan your way through a basket of naan," Jason said, and Rowan laughed. "My treat."

  The Elf's eyebrows shot up. "You mean, like…a date?"

  Another long look, and Jason decided, right then, to bite the damn bullet. "Yeah. Like a date. That is, if…I mean, it wouldn't have to be…but if…"

  Rowan smiled at him shyly, the tips of his ears turning pink. "I'd like that."

  At that moment, Jason felt so happy, it was almost like being alive again—back when he'd been young and romantic and apt to tumble any lad he met into bed with a charming smile and a kiss. His heart threatened to shatter against his ribcage, and to conceal the way his hands were shaking, he took a big gulp of his coffee, which didn't do anything to settle his nerves.

  "It's your turn to say something," Rowan said finally, still smiling.

  "Um…how's the contraption working? Are you feeling all right? Any headaches, nausea?"

  The smile broadened. "No, but for the first time in ten years I think I can read you."

  There was a beep in Jason's Ear, and he made a frustrated noise and tapped it. [Something had better be on fucking fire.]

  Tanya's voice was both amused and reluctant. [Not to make it seem like I'm eavesdropping, or anything, but you two should probably be getting a move on.]

  [You make a shitty wing man.]

  [Acknowledged.]

  He gave Rowan an apologetic look. "Duty calls," the Elf said, rising first. "Come on, let's go do our part for our country."

  This time, it was the Elf who took Jason's hand, and though neither commented, they set off up the street with fingers interlaced, Austin teeming all around them, oblivious to the miracle at its feet.

  *****

  When they arrived at the bar, promptly at eleven, Doyle wasn't there.

  "That's not good," Jason said under his breath. "He's never late."

  "Could he be waiting inside?"

  "No…at least, he never has before. He always meets me out here."

  "Do you want me to take a look around?"

  He caught the Elf's meaning, but shook his head. "Not yet. Let's use our regular old eyes first." Jason drew his sidearm and gestured for Rowan to stay close; for once, Rowan didn't protest.

  The whole area seemed completely vacant, which wasn't unusual for this part of town. "All right," Jason said, "One quick sweep, nothing too intensive. We don't want to tip anyone off that we're here."

  Rowan dialed down the inhibitor, and Jason felt him emerge, in his mental "eyes," as if from behind a cloud, his energy shining a watery blue-green. It was dampened by the shield, but Jason felt him reach into the bar, exploring carefully, getting an idea of what they were dealing with. It wasn't anything Jason couldn't have done himself, but since they were supposed to be testing the inhibitor, it was a good idea for Rowan to give it a try.

  Then, he turned the inhibitor back up, shaking his head. "There are four people in the bar: three male, one female. Plus the bartender, so five. No ill intent in any of them, but none matching your description of Doyle."

  "So he's been delayed by circumstance, or run afoul of someone."

  Rowan's gaze locked on the alley to their right, and he said, "I'd say probably the latter."

  Not a second later, there was a gunshot.

  "Stay here!" Jason ordered, and took off running for the alley, Rowan's protest fading behind him. As he approached he heard a second shot, then a third.

  He wheeled around the corner, gun drawn, in time to see a familiar face standing over a familiar body.

  "You've got to be kidding me," he said—the man who had shot Doyle, who was aiming his pistol squarely at Jason's head, was one of the drunks who had come after him the last time he'd been here. Except this time, the man looked like he was strung out on something a little harder than whiskey; he was sweating profusely, and his eyes were huge and white like a frightened animal's.

  Doyle was bleeding, but alive; and there, on the sidewalk, spilled out like dandruff, were dozens of little white pills and a broken Ziploc bag.

  "Come any closer and I'll shoot!" the man practically screamed, spittle flying from his mouth.

  "I take it you're not one of the 40% who sees God on this stuff," Jason said without lowering his own weapon. "Put the gun down. Now."

  "Stay back!"

  "Have you forgotten the last time we met? You had a baseball bat, and I had this?"

  "Jason, are you—"

  Rowan came around the corner, and Jason was about to snap at him to get back, but the man reacted too quickly—

  The shot went wide, ricocheting off the alley wall, and Rowan followed its path calmly with his eyes before saying, "That was really stupid, sir." He gestured at the vampire. "He's a really good shot, and he's got, what, six guns on him?"

  Normally Jason would have found the Elf's absolute tranquility funny, but at the moment, he couldn't pause to appreciate the absurdity of the situation. "Rowan, get back to the bar. I'll handle this. We need an ambulance."

  Suddenly the man lurched forward, crossing the
space between him and the Elf with an almost supernatural speed, way faster than a human could travel without some serious chemical assistance. He seized Rowan by the neck and shoved his gun in the Elf's temple, shouting, "Stay there! You just stay there! Put down the gun! Nice and slow!"

  Jason couldn't breathe—in all his wild nightmares about what could go wrong tonight, this was not on the list. He obeyed, letting his arm sink until his gun was on the ground. "All right," he said slowly, "Just calm down." He held up both hands. "Now let him go."

  "Don't be an idiot," Rowan said. "You could hit him from there with your eyes closed!"