Knowledge Quickening

by D. S. Williams

  “So you were frightened, I get that,” Nick announced, catching up with me and matching his stride to my own. “But you dumped Lucas like a hot potato, Charlotte. He's my friend. You've gotta understand how pissed that made me, to see him like that.”

  “Like what?” I didn't want to know, but couldn't help myself but to ask.

  “Depressed, lonely. Turning in on himself. Like he wanted to die, but couldn't.”

  Tears burned in my eyes and I turned to him. “I did what I thought was best, Nick. I know Lucas is your friend, but whether we broke up or not is really none of your business. If you're going to hold it against me, we can't work together.”

  Nick caught my arm, stopped me from walking away from him. “I blame you for the Drâghici taking them.”

  “So do I, Nick. So do I.” I wrenched my arm out of his grip and started walking again, tears running slowly down my cheeks. What a mess I'd made of things, by being chicken and not wanting to speak to Lucas or the others, I'd put them smack bang in the middle of something which didn't involve them, placed them in danger they couldn't have foreseen. Had Marianne had a vision of the Drâghici coming for them? Or had she been misfiring? Had there been any warning? Did they know why they'd been taken, that it was my fault? I just didn't know and Nick had opened up that can of worms now. Guilt was eating away at me, gnawing at my heart and mind.

  Nick caught hold of my arm for a second time and this time I fought him, pushing and punching and clawing at his arms until he caught me up in a bear hug, holding me hard against his chest. I sobbed then, the buildup of emotions too much to deal with. I'd been tense before Nick's arrival – and now with his disapproval obvious, I couldn't hold myself together.

  To my surprise, Nick brushed his hand across the back of my head, the action soothing and gentle. “I'm sorry, Charlotte. Shit, I'm sorry. You know I don't trust easily, I told you I'm suspicious of everyone. I was just getting to know you, to trust you, when you ran out on Lucas. It made me doubt you and I blamed you for Lucas's unhappiness. Hell, the whole Kiss's unhappiness. None of them was the same after you left. Marianne told me it was because you'd provided them with light and joy and when you left, those emotions left with you. None of it made much sense to me, but I'm not a vamp.”

  I drew back from him, brushing the tears away from my cheeks. “It's the Angel blood.”

  Nick frowned. “What?”

  “The angel blood. It makes people care for me, want to protect me. Epi says anyone who doesn't mean me harm will be affected by what I am.”

  He still had his arms around my waist and for a long moment, his focus was on the distance, further down the street as he thought. “That explains a lot,” he finally said.

  “Explains what?”

  He smirked. “Despite how pissed I am with you, I still want to protect you, Charlotte. Keep you away from danger. All my people who've met you – every one of them wanted to come down here and help you. I've been arguing with Jerome for most of the past week, he nearly attacked me when he heard me on the phone with you that first day. Told me you were like a daughter to him and he would clean my clock if I spoke to you like that again. Not something you generally do to the Pack Leader and survive.”

  “See? You don't really like me. I knew that. It's the angel blood, messing with your head.”

  Nick chuckled. “I didn't say I didn't like you, Charlotte. I'm angry with you, sure. But you treated me with respect, didn't put up with my shit and I have to admit, not many people give me a second chance. You did.”

  “It doesn't change anything. They were taken because I didn't warn them when I should have.”

  “Why didn't you tell them?”

  “Because I'd caused them enough trouble. I honestly didn't know who was after me. Epi had put it all together, knew someone was after me, but we had no idea who. It only came together when the attacks happened.”

  Nick released my arms and let me stand on my own again. “Didn't the spirits warn you? I thought they talked to you all the time.”

  “Not necessarily to tell me anything useful. They have some sort of rules governing what and when they can tell me stuff.”

  “Who controls them? This Nememiah guy?”

  I smiled weakly. “I have absolutely no idea.”

  Nick was thoughtful for a long time, gazing down the street with his hands back in his pockets. He was staring up at the sweet gums that lined the street, casting shade across the houses and road. “So you reckon you have to go with us? To Romania?”

  I nodded.

  “No choice?”

  “That's what the spirits tell me.”

  Nick turned back to watching the sweet gums and I waited silently, watching him while he wrestled with the idea. Finally, he glanced down at me. “Alright. I'll believe you. But I'm warning you—”

  “If I screw up, you'll never forgive me.”

  Nick shook his head. “Nope. If you screw up, I'll kill you.”

  “I'll keep that in mind.”

  Chapter 38: Traitor

  There were a line of photographs on the table and I stared at each one, memorizing the faces. Now that Nick and I had come to an agreement, he was sharing what he'd learned through his sources. He had provided photographs of four members of the Drâghici Council but there were others, so secretive that no photos had been available. Even these photographs weren't clear, blurred as if they'd been taken by someone using a hidden camera.

  Conal glanced up from staring at the photographs to look at Nick. “Someone took a risk, getting these.” It was a statement, not a question and I saw Nick shrug.

  “Not me. But I know someone, who knew someone who had them.”

  I got the impression that Nick had been involved with something illegal or underhanded to get the photos, but I wasn't going to argue about it. We needed them, needed any information we could get on our adversaries. Nick pointed to the first photo of a beautiful woman. “This is Qadesh.”

  She was a striking woman, petite with hair so blonde it looked white. Perfect makeup framed her beautiful hazel eyes and her lips were artfully made up into a brilliant scarlet pout. The photo was grainy, taken at night, but it was apparent she was a beautiful girl. She looked about my age, although I knew she was probably much, much older. The photo showed her face and upper body, dressed provocatively in a black dress which enhanced a buxom chest.

  “What do we know about her?”

  “Very little,” Rafe answered. “She's tiny, less than five feet tall but like all the vampires, she's no doubt powerful. No idea how old she might be.”

  “What about powers?” Epi questioned.

  Nick shrugged again, his gray eyes hard. “Haven't got any info.”

  “Who's this?” I pointed to the second photograph, which showed a man dressed elegantly in an expensive suit. The shirt, tie and jacket were immaculate, and it was the clearest photo of the four, clear enough to distinguish the gold and diamond tie pin. I wondered vaguely if it was real gold, real diamonds and decided immediately it would be. He looked like the type of man who liked the best of everything. He was classically handsome, his skin a darker pale, the color of milky coffee. There was a deep cleft in his chin and his chestnut brown hair was carefully styled around his features.

  “Enlil. He's the youngest of the Council, chosen because his specific power is the ability to create small storms and mini tornadoes, to attack his enemies. He's young to have such power, but the Council loves that sort of thing,” Nick explained. “He's Greek.”

  Rafe pointed to the next picture. “Bellona. She's apparently in charge of military strategy for the Drâghici. She's described as brilliant, bloodthirsty and ruthless.”

  She didn't look like any of the adjectives Rafe had used. The photo showed a dark skinned woman, with shining black hair pulled into a tight braid. Her lips were a little too full, her nose a little too wide to make her classically pretty, but she was certainly striking. Unlike Qadesh, Bellona appeared to use clothing to hide herself,
rather than display her body. The photo was taken from a distance and she was wearing a severe black jacket and trousers, almost masculine in style.

  “Do we know what powers she holds?” Epi asked.

  “If the rumors are true, she can fly,” Nick replied.

  I stared at him, my eyes wide. “Excuse me?”

  Epi spoke. “She must be very old. Only very few vampires have the ability to fly and it is a power which only appears when they are well over two thousand years old.”

  “Lucas told me vampires couldn't fly,” I stated and cringed when mentioning his name caused the same sharp pain in my chest. I wondered if I would ever be able to voice his name without it hurting, or if it would always be this way.

  “Lucas was wrong,” Epi announced matter-of-factly. “Of perhaps, he's never met one who could.”

  Nick turned back to the photos and pointed to the last one. “This is one of the Consiliului, but we don't have any information on him. Not even his name, at this stage.”

  The photograph showed a man who was muscular and well-built, his hair short and curly, his eyes icy blue. He was wearing a white t-shirt, a well-worn leather jacket over the t-shirt. The photo had been taken in a street somewhere, and even though it wasn't a clear photo, his eyes were frightening. Filled with anger and something else. Although I couldn't tell what it was, it was an emotion which was dark and dangerous. I shivered a little as I stared at the photo then glanced up to Nick. “He looks dangerous.”

  “Shit, Charlotte, they all look dangerous,” Nick responded quietly. “They are all dangerous.” His eyes searched mine for a long moment. “You still wanna go in there?”

  I nodded firmly. “I have to go.”

  “You should talk to the spirits, child. See if they can give us more information.”

  I nodded. “I'm going to.”

  Epi gathered up the photographs into a neat pile on the table. “I think we have learned all we can for now regarding the Consiliului. Nick, I assume if more information comes to light, you will inform us?”

  Nick slumped down onto the couch, his long legs spread out before him. “We'll do our best. Information isn't easy to come by, but hopefully we'll have more before we leave for Romania.”

  “What about this spy?” Rafe asked, looking at Conal. “Charlotte told us you believe someone in your Pack is spying for the Consiliului. Have you gotten any closer to knowing who it is?”

  I stole a glance at Conal, his face had hardened at the mention of the spy, his mouth compressed into a thin line. I'd dreaded this subject, but knew it was going to have to come out into the open. “I know who it is,” I announced quietly.

  Conal's eyes were on me, I could sense them boring into my face. “You know? Why didn't you tell me?” he growled.

  I sighed deeply. “Because I needed time to wade through the thought processes. Initially it was only a hunch, but I've been talking to the spirits, trying to confirm what I suspected.”

  Conal's eyes flashed angrily, a warning sign he was losing control of his temper. “Charlotte, for Christ's sake, if it's someone from my pack, I need to know about it! You should have told me what you knew!”

  “This isn't easy, you know,” I grumbled mutinously. “Not only do I have my own voice in my head, I have dozens, hundreds of others. I have to be certain before I jump to conclusions. There are lives at risk and I don't want to lose any more than we have to.”

  “You should have told me who you suspected.”

  “And what would you have done?” I demanded.

  He stopped and thought for only a second. “Interrogated him.”

  “Using your power?” Conal had the ability to probe a person's mind to discover their thoughts, their history. He'd used it on me, but had worried it could kill me. It was incredibly painful and he'd killed others before when using the gift.

  “Yeah,” he growled.

  “Which is why I didn't want to tell you until I was absolutely certain. I've been on the receiving end of your ability, Conal and I wouldn't wish it on anyone if I wasn't totally sure they were guilty.”

  “Who is it?” Conal snarled, his voice hard and his expression harder, contorted with barely concealed rage.

  “Quinn Saunders.”

  Conal gaped, looking at me as though I'd lost my mind. “Quinn Saunders,” he repeated blankly. “It can't be Quinn Saunders. He was one of my father's closest allies. He's been supportive of you!” He cursed, a flow of expletives flowing from his mouth as he stared at me angrily. “You're wrong. You must be wrong.”

  I brought my gaze up to meet his, wishing I didn't have to do this and knowing I had no choice. I pulled the list of dead and wounded from my purse and handed it to him. “You gave me the idea. You said that pure-blood werewolves all have names meaning wolf. Look at the list of the wounded. Go through the ones I treated and tell me I'm wrong.”

  Conal scowled, but snatched the page from me and began running through the list as I'd requested. When he reached the bottom of the page and looked up again, his black eyes were filled with rage. “They're all pure blood. Every last one of them.”

  “When you were with your mother and Nonny on the night of the attack, Kenyon came to me. I told him I'd try to help the wounded and he introduced me to Quinn Saunders. While I used the Hjördis to treat people's injuries, Quinn worked triage. He's a paramedic, so he was the obvious choice to work amongst the wounded, locate the most badly injured and let me know who to help. Quinn made the decisions that night. It was he who chose who could be helped.”

  Conal gripped the back of the couch, tearing his fingers through the heavy fabric. He was utterly motionless and I could see the gamut of emotions which crossed his face as he processed what I'd said. He dropped his head and his shoulders slumped dejectedly. “It doesn't make sense.”

  “I can't be sure, because the spirits don't exactly spell out the answers,” I explained, my voice low. “Apparently part of being Nememiah's Child is that I get to stumble around in the dark until I figure out a lot of stuff for myself.” I glanced around at the men sitting in the room; saw Rafe, Nick and Marco watching me intently. “I think Quinn Saunders has been working for the vampires. For how long, I can't say. He orchestrated the attack on the Pack on the orders of the Drâghici Council. I think they turned the other Angel much too early. They've known about me for a while, but they needed to give me time to learn as much as I could, before I turn twenty one and can't be created to vampire. I think Quinn's been feeding them information that he's learned from us, through his relationship with your Dad.”

  “But why attack his own pack?” Conal asked, his voice empty, devastation clear in his hard features.

  “Because,” I twirled the soda can I'd been drinking from around between my fingers, “he didn't know how powerful I'd become. He's never been here and with Epi's enchantments, he couldn't tell the Drâghici where I was. Who I was with. The attack on the pack was a way of drawing me out, allowing Quinn to see firsthand what I could do. Then he could report back to the Consiliului, allow them to know whether I was as far along as they want me before I'm created.”

  “But pureblood werewolves were killed,” Nick pointed out. “I thought you said the Consiliului want pureblooded werewolves kept alive.”

  “Nick's right,” Conal agreed. “Dad was pure blood.”

  “I'm not certain Quinn meant for that to happen, and I don't think the Drâghici actually care. They want rid of mixed bloods, but it won't worry them if the pureblood numbers are reduced. The pack was attacked by younglings, vampires who are under a year old. Ben told me during the first year, they're particularly dangerous, with no control over their actions. I don't think Quinn anticipated the Consiliului would send newborns. He probably didn't realize how far out of control it would get.”

  “I still don't get it,” Marco said, shaking his head. He was only eighteen, and his sandy blonde hair hung over his eyes, making him seem even younger. In the months since I left Montana, he'd filled out, his sh
oulders broadening and it was noticeable he'd been working out. “Why would this Quinn want to align himself with the vamps?”

  “A good question, young man,” Epi announced and Marco looked delighted with the old man's praise. “Charlotte, while I'm sure you are right, I myself don't see why Quinn would do this.”

  “That question, I can't answer,” I admitted. It was a question I'd asked the spirits any number of times, but on this they were silent. “They may have paid him an exorbitant amount of money. He may have strong feelings about the survival of the pack being reliant on purebloods. He may have something against half-blood werewolves. I don't know. All I do know is that he is the traitor.”

  “You're certain?” Epi questioned quietly.

  I nodded unhappily. “To be positive, I searched amongst the spirits. There's no trace of any of Quinn's ancestors. Not one.”

  Traces of werewolf were apparent in Conal's features and I knew anger was drawing him close to an uncontrollable rage. “I will kill him, myself. Tonight,” he announced through gritted teeth.

  This was exactly what I'd been concerned about and I had to act quickly to diffuse Conal's rage before he stormed out and took revenge for his father. “Conal, as much as I understand how angry you are and how much you're hurting, we can't do that.”

  He looked right through me, his eyes pitch black, his brow furrowed with deep lines. To my intense relief, he didn't storm out, instead drawing a deep breath. “Why?”

  “If you kill him now, the Drâghici will know we've discovered him. They'll kill Lucas and everyone else, thinking I won't come.” I stood up lithely and slipped around the back of the couch, laying my hand on Conal's arm and trying to soothe him. “We need him, Conal. We need to keep feeding him information until we're ready to make our move. The only difference will be that the vampires hear what we want them to hear.”

  He stared down at my hand on his muscled forearm, thinking about what I'd said for a long time. I could feel the tendons in his arm, tensed and rock hard beneath the skin. “You're right,” he finally said, and the tendons relaxed a little. “But he will die for this. I will have revenge in my father's name.”