Scented Dreams ((A Dogon-Hunters Series Novel))

by Turner Banks, Jacqueline

  “This is Vincent,” Kingsley said, indicating the man approaching them.

  Ian didn’t need the heads up—the man looked like a Hunter, a retired Hunter. He was as tall as Ian with about fifteen extra pounds. He was dressed in the Hunter monochromatic uniform, a North American trait Ian had yet to embrace. In the newcomer’s case, he was wearing dark green from head to toe. When he and Kingsley hugged, Ian saw that Vincent’s skin was about a half a shade darker, and the same impressive silver-gray shade that adorned the front patch of Kingsley’s hair covered Vincent’s head. When he turned to face Ian, Ian saw his eyes were an interesting shade of amber that he usually associated with Lupines.

  “Vincent, meet my future son-in-law,” Kingsley said with his arm still on the shoulder of the man who appeared a little older.

  “Ian, I don’t know if I should shake your hand or punch you!”

  Ian felt as if he had been punched. He tried to think why the man would want to punch him, but he couldn’t imagine a reason. There was a ring on his left hand, so he didn’t believe it could be about Nesta.

  “Well, I’m going to offer my hand and trust you to choose wisely,” Ian said, reaching out to him.

  Kingsley laughed. “Good answer, son, good answer.”

  “Let me explain,” Vincent said. “My wife walked into my office this morning while I was reading Rico’s blog. She saw the ring, and now she’s decided she wants a ruby too.”

  Kingsley laughed again. “Buy Carol a ruby, Vincent! That’s the least that she deserves after putting up with your tired ass all these years!”

  “Okay, I’ll tell her to call Dot so they can go ruby shopping together.”

  Ian laughed when he saw the eye rolling Kingsley gave his friend. He really enjoyed the good-natured ribbing the North American Hunters practiced.

  “What have you got a taste for?” Vincent asked.

  “Mass quantities,” Kingsley answered without hesitation.

  “I was meaning to speak to you about that old friend.”

  “Hey, I’ve only gained three pounds since I was active.”

  “Tell yourself what you need to hear,” Vincent teased. He looked at Ian with his next comment. “Do you eat Thai?”

  “Depends on how she looks,” Kingsley quipped.

  He and Vincent both cracked up, and a woman passing them shifted her purse to her outside arm.

  Ian smiled. “Actually, that one crossed my mind too,” he said, “but I figured I better prove myself as a good husband before I attempt those kinds of jokes around you.”

  Kingsley slapped him on his back. “I appreciate your concern, but you’re okay. I meant what I said about Ogo. You have his approval; mine is easy in comparison.”

  “Ain’t that the truth. He took me to the white room for a lot less than trying to marry his favorite surrogate child.”

  Ian stopped in his tracks. “Really, he took you to the white room?”

  Vincent nodded. There was a sick expression on his face that told Ian the memory was in no way pleasant. “I’ll tell you about it, but not until I have a drink in my hand.”

  “I’ve been three times!” Kingsley said. “But I’m not saying why. Suffice it to say, we got to be friends because I was so defiant as a young buck. It was very hard for me to take orders from a kook who looked younger than me. Believe me, as crazy as all you young Hunters think he is today, he isn’t even close to the mad man he was.”

  “That’s the truth. I was there the night Redbone did what Fox called ‘reckless eyeballing’ of one of his strange clothing ensembles, and Fox blinded him.”

  Kingsley laughed.

  “Permanently?” Ian asked, shocked by their cavalier attitude.

  “No, just for a few hours, the rest of the party. It was a brother’s wedding, and Fox loved those crazy seventies clothes.”

  Ian was very interested in the turn the conversation was taking. Fox had always been such an enigma to him. He wanted to understand him now even more, since Nesta’s love for him was obvious.

  “Brothers leaving the Service always make him cranky too. He loves to party at a wedding and he wants to see us happy, but marriages mean more work for him,” Vincent said.

  “Right,” Kingsley added, “he hates to train a new Hunter.”

  “Would it help if I offer to train my replacement?”

  Both of the men looked at him with an expression he couldn’t interpret.

  “It’s not so much the training as it is the choosing. He has to spend time in Mali and find a family with the right blood lines,” Kingsley said.

  They had reached a small café. From the look of the place, Ian wondered how three men so tall would fit in such a cramped place. He was surprised to see that the café wasn’t very wide, but ran especially deep. There were at least twenty tables present. Ian was encouraged to see that everybody eating was Asian.

  The waitress who seated them seemed to know Vincent. Ian waited until he gave her orders for the three of them in Thai before he continued their English conversation.

  “Why is choosing a Hunter an issue?” he asked.

  “Modern times,” Vincent said. “Families don’t know about us like they once did. None of us want to think the youngster was sold into Service.”

  Ian thought about what Vincent was saying. He knew his entry into the Service created a level of wealth in his family that hadn’t existed before, but in his time period the honor of the appointment was vastly more important than the little extra money.

  “Plus, he has to find people with the bloodline,” Kingsley said.

  All three of them nodded their heads, each knowing they could say no more aloud about the bloodline and the ritualistic “making” of a Hunter without an immediate visit from Fox. It was a process never written down and about which nothing was ever spoken.

  The waitress returned with a platter that contained an assortment of appetizers including skewers of grilled pork and chicken, spring rolls, and a dozen shumais, which Vincent explained were steamed shrimp dumplings served with sweetened soy sauce.

  Ian thought everything, even the fried tofu, was wonderful.

  “I could fill up on these appetizers,” Ian said.

  “Well don’t—the best is yet to come,” Vincent cautioned.

  “What did you order?” Kingsley asked.

  “Pad Kra-Prao. Do you remember any of your Thai?”

  “I know that’s a basil chicken dish, but no, I don’t remember very much. The language I learned doesn’t even sound like what I heard you and the waitress speaking.”

  “Were the two of you in Thailand together?”

  Kingsley nodded as Vincent answered. “That’s where we met— it was over four hundred years ago.”

  “Closer to five hundred,” Kingsley added.

  Ian wondered about the ages of the men sitting across from him. It was considered bad manners to ask a Hunter his true age. Some of them were very sensitive about it—sensitive not because they were so old, but because they were centuries younger than some of their friends.

  They ate in silence for a few moments before Vincent spoke. “What do you want to know about the Chicago hunt?” he asked.

  “What’s different about it? In just about every city I’ve visited and with almost every Hunter I’ve spoken to, the talk is about differences.”

  Vincent wiped his mouth. “I was talking to Matthew and Austin about this last week. They’re the active Hunters in the city proper. It’s pretty clear there’s some Sangsue infighting going on—that’s not that unusual, it happens every few years— but there seems to be a new boldness.

  We’ve all been hearing about the Sangsue training a new breed of fighter for years, but until recently I’d never seen any real evidence of it. All across the country, we’re starting to lose Hunters and especially Trackers to pairs who would have run away in the past.”

  Kingsley nodded.

  Vincent continued. “There’s a martial arts tone to their abilities. And they’r
e talking to each other, I mean in other cities. We never saw much of that before.”

  Ian nodded. “That’s why I think we should start comparing notes too. I want to be the person to coordinate that.”

  “Have you talked to Fox?” Vincent asked. “I wouldn’t presume to speak for anybody as certifiable as Fox, but I would think he would welcome the help. It’s obvious you can’t continue to hunt.”

  “Is that something you could do from California?” Kingsley asked.

  “I would have to have a base, but I imagine there would be a lot of travel involved.”

  “How far can you jump?” Vincent asked.

  “Nothing special, a few miles like most Hunters.”

  “Talk to Fox about giving you more coverage.”

  The light of the suggestion was visible in Ian’s eyes. It never occurred to him to just ask Fox for a gift, especially not one so valuable.

  “Have you ever known him to do that?”

  Both men nodded. “A friend of mine got married, and Fox didn’t have a replacement for a few months. He gave him greater coverage so he wouldn’t have to leave his newlywed alone overnight so often. I’m sure he would do it for Nesta, if not you,” Vincent said.

  “He told me the other day that I can jump down to Louisiana to spend a little time at Sean’s wedding while my party is going on—that’s what he plans to do,” Kingsley added.

  Ian nodded.

  A breeze flowed past his face, carrying a scent that reminded him of Nesta. He looked around the room and spotted a bouquet of lavender next to the cash register. He found his mind drifting to thoughts about his last time with her. His licked his lips and could almost taste the salty area between her perfect breasts.

  “Uh, Ian,” Vincent whispered loud enough for anybody to hear. He held up his left hand, blocking his right hand as he pointed to Kingsley. “This is her father. Icksnay on the fantasies, man.”

  Kingsley and Vincent laughed.

  “It’s called the lavender trigger. You’ll learn to fight it, at least around other Hunters,” Kingsley said. “But even if you don’t, you’d better learn to fight it around me.”

  “Agreed.” He put down his head in embarrassment as he took his next bite. The vibrations of his telephone stirred him. Taking it from his pocket, he read the text message: insert intense sex text here. Next time I will write this as IISTH, k? ILU Nesta.

  He smiled. The other men looked at each other. “I’m assuming my daughter is okay?” Kingsley asked.

  Ian nodded. He couldn’t break the spell of her cyber touch by speaking. How did she know he was thinking of her?

  He hoped he understood enough about text codes to assume ILU meant I love you. He wrote back: ILU2. 2nite me@u? It was the first time he’d ever texted anyone.

  YES in all caps appeared in its place.

  The meal was over when two men entered the restaurant. Ian sat with his back to the door, much to his chagrin, but in deference to the older Hunters; nonetheless, he felt the pull of his brethren immediately. Both of the men sitting in front of him grinned.

  “You’re just in time to pick up the bill for us,” Vincent said.

  The biggest of the two slapped Ian on the back as if he knew him. Ian did not.

  “Let this ruby-buying brother pick up the check!” the slapper teased.

  “Gods, does everybody know about my engagement?” Ian asked, standing. He held out his hand and shook with first the slapper and then his companion.

  “I’m Matt, and this is Austin.”

  The second one reached out his hand. “Don’t let them sweat you, brother. Nesta deserves a man with class.”

  “Uncle Austin needs to sit his ass down,” Kingsley said in a voice that made Vincent and Matthew crack up.

  “Kingsley, how many times do I have to tell you?”

  “I would have stopped this one too, had I known!” Kingsley said, nodding at Ian.

  Austin turned away from Kingsley and faced Ian as he answered. “Come on, man, she was in elementary school when I moved here! She’s always been like a little sister to me, regardless of her father’s dirty mind! Ask her, my brother.”

  I damn sure will, Ian said to himself.

  Matt pulled a chair from a nearby table and pulled it up next to Ian. Austin continued to hover over the table.

  “We’ve got real problems,” Matt said. He lifted a chunk of chicken from Kingsley’s plate and popped it in his mouth.

  “You will if you pick off my plate again.”

  Matt then picked a dumpling from the appetizer plate and ate it. He held his hand over his mouth and spoke. “Tell them, Austin.”

  Austin looked around and found a vacant chair. He pulled it to the table.

  Ian noticed a second family of diners packing up their lunch. He wondered if the presence of five large brown and black men had anything to do with that.

  “Matt and I have only been together the last fifteen minutes or so, but both of us have been followed all day.”

  “By anybody we know?” Vincent asked. Ian was surprised that both Kingsley and Vincent seemed especially calm.

  “That’s the killer. Sangsue. Sangsue were following us.”

  “No shit?”

  “None,” Matthew said.

  Ian looked up again and found that just two of the tables still held patrons. His instincts told him that something other than plain old fear of black men was happening.

  “Have you guys noticed that. . . ,” Ian started.

  “We noticed,” Kingsley said, interrupting.

  “I’m thinking there are visitors in the back room there,” Vincent said.

  “That would explain why they’re not out front anymore,” Matthew said. He reached toward Kingsley’s plate, and Kingsley slapped his hand.

  “I am so over this bullshit,” Kingsley said. Ian assumed he was talking about fighting, not Hunters eating from his plate.

  “I would have worn something else,” Vincent moaned.

  “Like any of us want to fight,” Matthew said, but he was grinning and reaching for a piece of fried tofu.

  Vincent beckoned for the waitress. She looked around the room before approaching the table. He asked her something in Thai. She answered, and he asked another question. She answered again and quickly walked away.

  “She said there’s two guys back there and they’re holding a gun on the owner.”

  “A gun?” both Kingsley and Austin said.

  “I asked if they were tall and pale and she said no, not at all.”

  “Shit!” Matthew and Austin said together.

  “Any ideas?” Austin asked.

  “There’s five of us, okay?” Vincent started. “As long as those people are still here, they aren’t going to try anything.”

  “Guns?” Austin repeated.

  “Yeah, that’s odd, but not impossible. Why don’t you, Austin, go around the back and stake out that entrance. Kingsley and Ian can walk over to the cash register and wait to pounce, and I’ll go to the back room with Matt.”

  “I don’t like that scenario,” Kingsley offered. “They’re following our active Hunters. Why don’t we let them continue to follow them and come up behind them? We know they’re never going to reveal themselves around Ketier.”

  Matthew nodded. “That’s true. If they wanted to shoot us, they had their opportunity before we got in this kind of crowd.”

  The restaurant was nearly empty, but the streets outside were still busy.

  “Before this begins,” Matt said, looking toward Vincent. “Tell me about this waitress—is she single?”

  Vincent shrugged. “How the hell would I know or care?”

  “Forget about it, Matt. Your big ass would break that little thing in half,” Austin teased.

  “And considering that he hasn’t stopped eating since he got here. . . ,” Kingsley added.

  “I’ve got a fast metabolism, okay? And you can ask any of my female friends, I’m light on my feet!”

  Ian was
speechless. He thought their attitude was almost irreverent. Everywhere else he’d ever lived, walking into battle was taken much more seriously.

  It was decided that, just as they came in, Austin and Matt would leave the restaurant together.