Courts and Cabals 2

Home > Other > Courts and Cabals 2 > Page 11
Courts and Cabals 2 Page 11

by G. S. D'Moore


  Obviously, the echelon commander didn’t take it well. Vernon wasn’t as fast as the chopper, but he was stopped by some NYS troopers at a wall of fire. They told him they had orders not to let them pass. He responded by handcuffing them together with their own cuffs and locking them in the back of their patrol car. He’d have to answer to New York State for that, but no one wanted to deal with him until he’d calmed down.

  Feng and his people landed their modified Blackhawk right on the interstate to confront him. Feng did the whole “you shall not pass” routine, and the Commander would make a decent Asian Gandalf. Vernon had been so close to fighting him after the scuffle with Charlotte. His blood was up, and his fuckbuddy was on a stretcher in the chopper, but he knew he couldn’t take the dragonspawn. He’d looked up what the Commander was capable of before confronting him, and that probably saved his life.

  Instead of fisticuffs, the Commander expertly redirected Vernon’s anger. He was only now seeing the deflection, and it pissed him off even more he’d been manipulated so easily, but that’s what led them all back to HQ. The chopper had even activated its attached jet engines. He had no idea how the physics of that worked, but it got them to NYC in under twenty minutes.

  He'd come straight to the Director’s office while a medical team grabbed Becky and loaded her on a stretcher for the UN’s healing mages to work on. Intellectually, he knew she was going to be fine, but seeing her lying there, shivering in pain, and totally defenseless was too much for him. He was ashamed he had to leave her side, but it was that or start ripping throats out. A doctor without a trachea wasn’t much good to her.

  It had probably only been a minute, but it felt like hours. He was surprised he hadn’t paced a hole in the carpet by the time the receptionist returned. “She’ll see you now,” she squeaked as Vernon blurred past her and into the boss’s office.

  Director of the United Nations Worldwide Registration Response Division, Evelyn Winters, looked damn good for someone in her mid-seventies. She’d been in Army Intelligence, the CIA, NSA, presidential administrations, and had even done some wet work once upon a time. As humans went – and he still wasn’t one hundred percent confident she was fully human – she was a badass. You couldn’t let her small frame distract you. She controlled a budget of billions of dollars, and people took lives when she sent out an email. Despite all his strength, speed, and magical talent, that was the type of power Vernon would never have.

  The eyes that met his were cool, confident, but tired. She’d been through hell in the last few hours. Sometimes, bureaucratic hell was worse than taking fire. At least when you bought the farm in a gunfight it could be quick and painless. Death for a bureaucrat was death by a thousand papercuts given to you by brownnosing pricks when your back was turned. She endured all of that so Vernon could face the threats the world faced and shoot them in the face.

  Remembering that, when he saw the look on the Director’s face, lessened his rage from about-to-violently-kill-everyone-in-the-room, to just ripping people new assholes for fucking things up.

  “What in the holy hell, ma’am,” his Texas accent was thicker than oil as he faced off against her. “We were on their trail. We were a few miles behind at most. How in the hell can your little attack dog just call of the hunt . . . I mean chase? These kids put a cop in the hospital. Shit, Evelyn, there are seven bodies in the morgue over this. You can’t just let that shit go!” he realized he was yelling, but didn’t care.

  It was like someone turned on the spicket, and the anger started to rush out of him. To the boss’s credit, she stood there and took it like a champ. She barely even blinked. She waited until he’d dug himself a nice hole before she started to bury him.

  “You mean they hurt Becky Woods. It’s curious that you put her before the seven dead kids,” she stalked around her desk like a lioness hunting her prey, and this was why he wasn’t positive she was fully human. His wolf registered another predator, and there was no way his animal instincts would think of a human as anything other than food.

  “She’s law,” he said it like he was Clint Eastwood in an old western.

  “She’s a cute piece of furry ass that you’ve been tapping,” the Director’s five-three frame got all up in his six-and-a-half-foot face and forced him to retreat. “Your priorities are messed up, Special Agent Dud, and you need to fix yourself.”

  He growled despite himself, barring his fangs, but the Director didn’t even flinch. The woman was tough as nails.

  “You’re getting tunnel vision, agent,” she continued, calmly holding her ground. “You were the one who put us on this case. You were the one that connected the dots, but despite that, you’re missing the big picture.”

  For a moment, he had no idea what the hell she was talking about. Then it clicked, “The others,” he sat down in the chair behind him hard enough for it to groan in protest.

  “You found two, near-identical cases to Cameron Dupree. Now that we know Dupree is a novel supernatural, we can build on that. I’ve contacted the Moscow and Sydney offices, and they’re on it.”

  “That must have been a surprise,” he couldn’t help but grin at the thought of the station chiefs’ reactions when they’d faced the overwhelming willpower of the Director of the Response Division. He was glad she was spreading the wealth around.

  “The boy in Russia is in the wind. His family lives in Siberia, and was visiting the capital for the holidays. We’re not bringing in the government yet . . . because its Russia,” she didn’t have to say anything else.

  Russia was a bit of a lawless land. After the breakup of the Soviet Union, oligarchs took control of the nation’s natural resources. Russia was the largest country in the world, and rich in commodities other nations wanted. That gave the oligarchs power, and it helped that almost all of them were supernatural. Occasionally, the oligarchs got too confident in their own power and violated the WRA. That’s when the echelon teams went in. They’d cleared out a power-hungry mage and an entire pack of shifters as an example to anyone who thought the WRA was full of suggestions and not rules. Unfortunately, nature abhors a vacuum, and the government stepped in to regain some power. They weren’t much better than organized crime, but they were human, and supposedly elected; although, no one really believed that.

  Russia was one bad day away from being a failed state, but it had shit the world needed; so, people put up with them. For Vernon, and the Response Division assets in Moscow, that would make finding the Siberian boy like finding a unique snowflake in a blizzard. Vernon wasn’t holding out much hope.

  The Director read his face as he weighed the options with the Russian boy before dropping the bombshell. “The girl in Australia already submitted a DNA sample, agreed to the deep dive, and is being flown to New York right now.”

  That got Vernon’s attention, and if she wasn’t the boss, he would have kissed her. “We’ll study her, find her weaknesses, and figure out how to beat Dupree.”

  “Reign it in, cowboy,” the Director’s eyes bored into his when he glared at her. “As far as we know, Dupree doesn’t have any fire powers. Those changelings were killed by Aveena Foxbelle or Lilith Venitas. My money is on Venitas since they were Fae, but since it was an agreed upon duel to the death, she’ll claim self-defense. We might be able to get her on manslaughter, but that’s only if the state elects to press charges. We’re in the process of contacting the next of kin, but it’s going to be up to the New York Attorney General to file charges if they’re going to move forward.”

  “Fuck,” he hissed. It was an election year, and the last thing someone running for election in a blue state wanted was to be seen conversing with the Response Division. He gave it thirty-seventy odds that charges would be leveled against the Venitas scion.

  “Son of a bitch,” he was really getting tired of the cabals.

  “We’ve got a warrant out for Dupree on failure to register, but it’s not even a felony. Due to the fact we weren’t able to figure out he was supernatural f
or months; his cabal lawyers will be able to get him off by paying the fine and registering. Since we should have details from the Aussie girl by then, we should have a new category.”

  Normally, a new category was a big deal. The UN brass trotted out celebrities, and broke the budget to celebrate “diversity”. They tried to make it sound like it was a good thing. As a supernatural, Vernon felt he could say it was a load of bullshit. Some of the things that had been discovered by the UN were nothing more than monsters.

  “We can hold him to verify the category,” Vernon brainstormed. He wasn’t just going to let Dupree walk away scot-free after this clusterfuck.

  “We could, but be careful, Vernon,” her face softened enough to remind him she wasn’t a robot without emotion. “Don’t forget about the Fae.”

  “Yeah,” he exhaled, and the last of the fight went out of him.

  The UN wanted Dupree, and Vernon would make sure they wrung the kid dry for every bit of data and punishment they could. The kid deserved it after what he’d done, but the UN was bound by international law, the federal statutes of the United States – since that was the country everything was occurring in – and then state and local law. He wasn’t a lawyer, but some of those layers conflicted; which only made the Response Division’s job that much more difficult.

  “I wish Becky was better,” he sighed, he bet they both could work off a little tension.

  “So, the mission is to still keep Dupree alive?” he knew the answer.

  “Yes, he’s an American citizen whose only crime is not registering,” she replied succinctly.

  “Only crime that we know of,” Vernon knew he was biased, but his instincts had been right all along. Something was up with Dupree, so Vernon would keep following his instincts.

  “Where do you want me, Boss?” he asked, falling back into his roll of loyal employee after venting his rage at her, the universe, and the poor receptionist.

  “Take twenty-four hours and make sure your mate is okay,” she replied.

  “Whoa,” Vernon was up out of his seat and immediately on the defense. “Mate . . . um . . . we just started seeing each other. We’ve only fucked . . .”

  “I don’t need to know about your love life, Agent Dud. Make sure Sheriff Wood recovers and then come back to see me,” she looked down at her computer, and waved her hand in dismissal.

  “I was meaning to ask you about Becky . . .” Vernon began.

  “You seriously aren’t going to ask me to hire your girlfriend after you came marching in here like a spoiled brat who just had his favorite toy broken,” she turned her steely gaze on him.

  It was only because Becky had a really tight pussy that Vernon held the Director’s gaze. “Just think about it, please.” He didn’t beg often, and he swore he saw a smirk tug at the edge of the old woman’s mouth, but she didn’t commit to anything.

  “Twenty-four hours, and then get to Vegas. That’s where the next part of this will play out,” she gestured for him to get the hell out.

  He got. He went straight down to the hospital wing to check on Becky. The Director’s words about her being his mate pinballed through his mind the whole way.

  Chapter 8

  “This must be what POTUS feels like,” I grinned as the motorcycle honor guard roared around us. You might not like the guy, or the guy before him; hell, you might not like any of them, but there was no denying they traveled in style. I felt untouchable at the center of a small shifter army descending on Las Vegas.

  Sometime before we hit the city, three identical SUVs entered our convoy. “This is some Jason Bourne shit,” I watched as the SUVs played a shell game among the shifter bikes. Whenever we reached an overpass, or something that hid us from aerial surveillance, the cars slid into new positions. I was in one of the cars and I couldn’t keep track of it.

  Dani watched my face with a smirk. “You’re such a baby,” she cooed and reached back to ruffle my hair, but I dodged away. “You’ll get used to the tradecraft. Soon, it’ll be second nature.”

  “Really?” my mind went back to a conversation with Lilith not too long ago. “You told me the cabal was on the up-and-up.”

  “We are,” the succubus reiterated.

  “For the most part,” Dani edged the bet for both of them. “What?” she yelped when Lilith reached around and succeeded in swatting her.

  “Cam,” Dani gave the succubus a glare, “sure, the cabal was into a lot of shit back before the Revelation, but that was a necessity. If you were trying to keep your existence a secret from the world, and a lot of your people needed to feed off humans in some way, you couldn’t always be on the right side of the law. You saw the shit that went down with the MeToo movement and vamps.”

  I nodded. It had nearly been a modern-day witch hunt when some prominent vamps got caught up in the MeToo movement. It didn’t necessarily have to do with rape, or even consensual fucking; but people made a big deal out of the ability of some vamps to bespell their victims, and what that meant for consent. I’d just been on the receiving end of that equation, and I could see the point Dani was trying to make. How did vamps do it before the Revelation? The answer; not always legally.

  The dwarf saw me draw that conclusion. “Exactly,” she snapped her fingers. “Cabals did what they had to do to survive and keep order, and they operated as much in the gray area of federal and state law as possible. Now, fast forward thirty years. Cabals have been on the receiving end of bad press, and arguably made poor decisions, long before the Revelation. They’re the bad guys to the government’s good guys. It doesn’t matter if its humans or supernaturals. Hoover hassled potential communists in Hollywood, and the FBI still hassles the cabals today. Like anything that’s lived as long as the cabals have, they’ve adapted; thus, the tradecraft.” Dani leaned back as she finished her explanation.

  “I guess,” I rubbed the back of my neck. I just didn’t like being on everyone’s shit list.

  The convoy hit the outskirts of town and dispersed in a choreographed maneuver that would make the Secret Service jealous. The shifters split into three groups, each surrounding one of the SUVs, and the SUVs went off on different routes to throw off any tails.

  I didn’t see what happened to one group, but two ended up at the final destination: Caesars Palace. It was a fitting HQ for the Venetian Cabal. One convoy rolled right up to the front entrance where tourists’ cabs were being unloaded. The arrival triggered the local cop’s trap. Men and women in street clothes, badges, and guns surrounded the car and pulled the occupants out while warning the shifters back with their weapons.

  I didn’t know how the shifters replied, but judging from the brief interaction between the leader and Dani, I’d wager they shouted something rude about the cops’ mothers or their ability to perform sexually. Our SUV disappeared into a parking structure at the back of the large hotel, and I was sure the cops would have another ambush waiting. Then we hit something. It felt like someone hit me in the ass with a cattle prod, and I jumped high enough my head smacked into the ceiling. One second the windshield showed nothing but solid concrete, and the next, there was a discrete entrance with a familiar face standing beside it.

  “Fern,” I turned to the pixie, “stay in the car. I don’t want there to be any misunderstandings.”

  “Yes, Master Cam,” she gave me a small bow and continued to surf the web on her tablet.

  Aden smiled as we opened the doors and got out. “Welcome to Vegas,” the dark-skinned imp smiled. He’d saved my ass back at St. Vincent’s, so it only made sense the cabal would want a friendly face to welcome us.

  The smile on the incubus’s lips didn’t meet his eyes. Xamira didn’t even close her door before she ran into her father’s embrace. The imp had been strong and silent until now. She sobbed into her father’s blazer without a care in the world, and I didn’t blame her. I felt bad there hadn’t been more time to mourn Xander, but shit had been rolling downhill for the last two days, and I sat squarely at the bottom. Some things
might have changed, but I still looked out for number one.

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” I gave Aden a sad shake of my head. I didn’t know what to say, and that’s what people always said in these situations.

  “Thank you,” he clung to Xamira, who seemed to only come out of his jacket to catch her breath.

  “Lilith, mother wants to see you,” he informed, and Lilith nodded. “Dani, she wants Cam to meet with Peter first.”

  “Peter,” a cold tingle worked its way up my spine.

  No offense if your name is Peter, but I just hate anyone by that name. A kid name Peter had been the biggest sociopathic fucker back at the orphanage. He was at that age no one wanted to adopt him, and several foster families had sent him back for behavioral problems. It was a shitty situation all around, but he ruled over all the kids with an iron fist. That iron fist had given me a black eye more than once. Kid Peter had been great at talking his way out of trouble, and always making it someone else’s fault. My prejudice was nonsensical, biased, and stupid, but I instinctually hated every Peter I met.

  “Hey,” Lilith reached out and pulled me into a hug. I don’t know if it was to say goodbye, or if she felt the pang of pain from my mark; but either way, it was the first time I remember her actually hugging me. The time she carried my unconscious, naked body back from Joe’s didn’t count.

  It felt so right. I fit perfectly against her curvy frame. I popped some chub, but it was overshadowed by the pure comfort she imparted. I felt my fear melt away, and it left me smiling.

  “Thanks,” I didn’t want her to pull away, but she had to meet with her mother. Without the power the head of the cabal could bring to our aid, we were all royally fucked.

  Dani waited until Lilith was gone. “Peter’s a dick,” she stated, and the uneasiness flooded back into my muscles.

  “Peter is attentive,” Aden clarified, “and he is my mother’s First. He has the responsibility to facilitate your transition from civilian to supernatural life, and integrate you into the cabal’s daily workings.”

 

‹ Prev