by J. R. Rain
“Humans are getting hurt.”
“They count as real people.”
She makes a ‘little bit’ pinchy gesture with her finger and thumb. “You’re like the adorable kid sister who cries whenever an animal is killed for food. Humans are your white fluffy bunnies.”
Oh. She’s totally messing with me.
“How’s Chloe?” she asks out of the blue.
I blink, frozen in panic.
“Oh, relax. No, I haven’t told the Dominion about her. Besides, we’re not evil. The ‘e’ word is all your perception. We merely believe we’re superior to humans. The humans consider themselves superior to cats, dogs, pigs, and so on. It’s the same thing.”
“We’re never going to agree on that.”
“Vampires for the Ethical Treatment of Humans,” singsongs Ayla.
I stick out my tongue.
“So mature.”
“Hey, aren’t they called OETH?” I ask.
“I’m going to tie you to a chair if you keep saying that,” says my sister.
My turn to laugh.
“So, tell me about the baby daddy. What’s he like?”
“Umm. He’s a lot like Dad, only without the giant stick in the ass. And I swear I don’t have a daddy complex. Anyway, he’s wealthy, from a big family. Old money, but he’s got an impulsive streak, too. I think that’s what drew me to him.”
“I can see that. Where’s he fall on the humans thing?”
“He’s dating one. Wait, I think they’re actually married.”
Ayla bursts out laughing. “Oh, he’s one of those.”
“Humans are not so far below us as to constitute bestiality.”
“Okay.” Ayla points at me. “I wasn’t even thinking of humans being that low. Guess you’ve got a bit of pride in your species, after all.”
I steer a little to the left, taking on a more southeasterly course. And crap. I forgot the ice has melted, destroying the connection to the mainland. There has to be a boat somewhere we can commandeer.
I say, “Knowing that we actually are physically superior to them doesn’t mean we have to lord over them. That’s a lot of freakin’ work, you know.”
She scrunches up her nose. “What happened to you? You’re all like serious now. Topic change. What’s your daughter like?”
I lean back in the seat, still holding both joysticks all the way forward. “This thing really needs cruise control.”
Ayla laughs.
“Chloe’s a bad combination of fearless, smart, and sarcastic. She’s only thirty-five but it’s like she’s seventy already. She’s adorable, and knows it. Has her father’s new lady totally wrapped around her finger.”
“She’s gonna be a handful when she’s actually in her seventies… all the way up to the end of her nineties.”
“Yeah…”
Ayla lures me into a reasonably normal conversation about my daughter. I share some cute stories, some funny ones, and a few times she had me ready to throw her out a window. However, I do manage to keep my guard up enough to avoid mentioning that I’m not terribly thrilled about leaving her with Julian for long stretches of time while I run off to parts unknown. Once she’s older, yeah, no problem. But I would like to spend a decade or two with her while she’s still young enough to think ‘Mom is awesome’ and not be a petty little source of constant drama in what humans refer to as the teen years. She’s sweet enough now that I don’t expect her to become too much of a brat at sixty-five… as soon as the hormones start to kick in. And ugh. Boys. Adolescence sucked for me mostly because I had to stay hidden and never even saw another vampire kid. Now that vampires no longer have to keep themselves hidden, she might have to deal with the whole sixties crush thing, unlike me.
I am not looking forward to that.
“Hey.” Ayla’s expression is the most sincere it’s been since before she left home. “Think I could meet her?”
“Only if you swear a blood oath to me that you’ll never involve her with the Dominion.”
“You think I’d kidnap her so the Dominion could use her against you?”
“I’d like to think that your connection to family is stronger than your loyalty to those idiots. But, that’s generally my worry. Not that you would do anything, but others using information you might be pressured to share might.”
“I understand. You wouldn’t try to turn me in to the CIA?”
“No. They’re human.”
“Heh.”
“But I would try to stop you from doing something for the Dominion that would harm large numbers of people.”
“Naturally. If they ever capture you and decide to destroy you, I promise to make sure they arrange some really long, elaborate scenario that you can easily escape from before it kills you.”
“Now I know you’re messing with me.”
She laughs. “I am. And sure. Family is family. I must meet your daughter. No problem on those conditions for an oath.”
“Great. Now we just need to deal with a few hundred miles of inhospitable terrain.”
“Just keep driving until the gas is gone. Then we walk.”
“There’s the slight issue of a roughly twenty-mile wide stretch of ocean. The glacier doesn’t connect to the mainland in summer due to ice melt. I don’t really feel like swimming this close to the Arctic Circle.”
“Yeah, I’m gonna vote no on that, too.” She scrunches up her nose. “Think there’s a boat?”
“Not sure…” I stare at the fuel gauge. “But we’ll find out in about two hours.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Anklebiter
We wound up doing better than a boat.
A Russian military helicopter spotted our Arcticfox and swooped in to check us out. We hopped out and waved for help… and the kind, generous pilots gave us a ride to within walking distance of Nordvik. Mind control and memory erasure may have occurred, but really, the pilots were nice guys.
From there, my sister and I spent a few days pretending to be backpacking tourists making our way among small villages until we reached the city of Novosibirsk where we caught a commercial flight to Sweden, and then split up, taking separate flights back to the US… after doing a little shopping for less extreme clothing. The butt crack of Russia might’ve been frigid, but the rest of the world is still experiencing August.
Once I no longer had my sister in earshot, I sent a message back to Andrew. An innocent sounding comment about a symphony concert being wonderful, even if the conductor was boring, told him that I finished up and was on the way home, with no immediate worries of pursuit or danger.
After an annoying post-mission week and a half, I’m finally home. I have a nice little house in the suburbs of Langley. The real estate here is pricey, but I know how to ‘talk’ to people. Got the sellers to come down a little, and a killer deal on the mortgage. Not literally killer… just the limits of what mental compulsion could do to a loan officer without causing him to be fired.
Last night consisted of a long, hot bath. Siberia aside, I needed to relax from all the debriefing. The way the Agency reacted to the information I brought back is pretty much the same thing that happens when a moron whacks a hornets’ nest with a baseball bat and finds money inside. No one’s entirely sure if they should shit their pants, be thrilled, or try and keep it under wraps. Andrew gave me a back pat for following his unofficial order. My official report indicates the amplifier had been previously destroyed thousands of years ago by a primitive human wielding a spear. If, somehow, anyone from the CIA ever makes it into that room and questions why it contains itty bitty pieces of amplifier… who knows what the Russians did.
My doorbell rings. Like a kid at Christmas, I spring off the couch and run over, opening the door to reveal Luca Portillo, Julian’s butler. He’s human and fairly young, barely into his forties… and also, quite frustrated.
“Is Julian too busy to bring his daughter here himself?” I ask.
“Mr. Blackburn had a prior engagement,�
�� says Luca, sounding his formal best. He looks around my front yard. A black Mercedes sits parked in the driveway behind my Corvette. “Hmm. Where is the little anklebiter?” I note he’s losing some of the formality. “I seem to have lost track of her—gaaaah!”
I look down.
Chloe, in her fancy white dress, crouches on all fours behind Julian, her teeth clamped on his leg right above his shoe.
He grabs the railing for balance, gasping in pain.
My daughter sits back on her heels, flashing a bloody grin up at us. She is absolutely adorable in that dress, like a porcelain doll… okay, maybe a haunted porcelain doll.
“If you keep calling me that,” says my daughter. “I’m going to be literal about it.”
Luca glares at me, shaking with anger he has no outlet for. He’s afraid to say anything to me, he wouldn’t dare hit her, and he won’t complain to Julian. I really don’t know why my ex insists on employing a butler who dislikes children and then requires the man to drive Chloe around whenever she wants to go somewhere.
Luca collects the shattered fragments of his dignity off the ground, holds his nose up, and limp-storms back to the Mercedes.
Chloe springs upright and bounces up the steps to hug me. “Hi, Mommy!”
“Hi yourself.” I pick her up, even though she’s a little big for that, and carry her inside.
Luca unloads a suitcase big enough to carry three of Chloe, and lugs it up the walkway before dropping it heavily on the porch.
I make sure he sees me pick it up with one hand.
His eyes narrow.
“Thank you for driving her,” I say. “And, I don’t mind getting her bag if it’s this overloaded. Julian’s the one who wants his workers to do stuff for him.”
Luca eases back on the glower to a discontented smirk, nods once, and walks back to the car. I’m sure he tolerates driving my daughter here mostly because it means she won’t be at the mansion for however long I keep her.
“Don’t worry about him,” says Chloe, heading to the living room. She flops on the floor and pulls the PlayStation out of the cabinet. “He doesn’t like kids, and he likes me less because he can’t scare me.”
“I’m glad you’re not letting him bother you.” I sit on the sofa. “Sorry I had to be away so long.”
“No problem. I understand.” She grins. “Kiara’s not afraid of me anymore. She’s actually kinda nice.”
A vague recollection of an auburn-haired almost-thirty woman comes to mind. I met Julian’s wife once or twice, but not for long. “You two are getting along?”
“Yeah.” She starts up a mermaid-themed game, then hops up to sit beside me with a controller in her little hands. “I kinda like her even though she’s gonna grow old and die. Daddy will probably get a new one after a couple days when he’s not so sad anymore.”
I laugh.
She glances up at me. “I think he should get one from a shelter next time.”
“Chloe… people aren’t cats.”
“Where do humans come from?” she asks, while the little on-screen mermaid begins navigating an underwater cave.
While she guides the little on-screen mermaid around underwater caves, I let her know, in no uncertain terms, that humans are mostly like us, which takes on a whole new meaning now that I know the truth. Yeah, the truth, strange as it may seem.
“Am I really gonna be able to stay here for a whole week?” She gives me this wide-eyed pleading stare.
“At least. Yeah.”
Chloe beams and snuggles into my side. “Did you kill anyone on your mission?”
“Yeah, a few people… but only ones who tried to shoot me.”
“Ooh! Tell me about it?” Chloe looks up at me with a creepy little sparkle in her eyes.
If I didn’t know her, I’d be unnerved. But… it’s not the killing that’s got her excited. She loves action movies. And right now, Mommy is basically that woman from Tomb Raider as far as she’s concerned.
“Not sure these stories are for children.”
She raspberries me. “Talk, woman! Well, if it’s not classified.”
“What do you know about classified?”
“Duh. My mom’s like only the most awesomest superspy ever. Now, spill!”
I laugh again.
“All right. Well, we found something really, really old…”
“How old?”
I think about how much I want to tell her... and decide she deserves to know everything. After all, it’s her heritage too.
“Forty thousand years old. I think.”
“You think?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Okay, go on.”
And I do, well into the night...
Chapter Twenty-Four
Until Monday
Chloe arrived on Sunday, and the darn week flew by.
I managed to keep the Agency at arm’s length by telecommuting for a meeting or two and doing paperwork from home. If Julian—and my schedule—are up for it, I’m going to keep her another week. Considering the time I lost to Siberia, I’m not expecting my ex to object. Honestly, if I quit working for the CIA and wanted her to stay primarily with me, I doubt he’d mind.
Out of sheer randomness, I take Chloe to a renaissance festival near Williamsburg on Saturday. She adores the fancy dresses and all things even remotely related to princesses, mermaids, faeries, and elves. My daughter also happens to like watching martial arts and sometimes pretending to be a spy or a ‘combat archaeologist’ like that Tomb Raider woman. One moment, she’s a pink princess, the next she’s mowing down imaginary faceless enemies and getting into ‘kung fu’ fights.
My mother thinks she needs therapy. I think it’s adorable.
Most of the vendors gush over her, commenting on her lush dark brown hair, porcelain complexion, or unusual super-intense cerulean eyes. She decided to rock the girly today and prances around the ren faire in an elaborate blue gown with puffy shoulders. Her hair’s loaded up with pink ribbons and she’s sporting a set of costume faerie wings.
We sample the various normal foods, though suffer a can of Syn-X each for actual nutrition. My fearless daughter glugs down the horrible synthetic blood like a college frat boy slaying the first beer of a party. I can’t tell if she adores it or loathes it and wants it to be over with as soon as possible.
She sticks her tongue out at a ball-throwing booth, one of those knock bottles over to win a prize affairs, because it’s got a sign posted saying vampires aren’t eligible for prizes due to ‘unfair advantage.’ Chloe really wants the purple dragon plushie sitting on the top shelf. After whining briefly to me, she abruptly slam shifts moods. Rather than the expected meltdown of tears, she tromps over to the guy running the booth and proceeds to try debating him over his ‘discrimination policy.’
I keep a hand over my mouth to stop myself from laughing at this little girl with wobbly iridescent faerie wings barking at this guy like a pissed off town councilwoman.
My cell erupts with the Agency ringtone. Ugh.
Reluctantly, I pull it out. “Barrett.”
“Mina,” says Andrew. “Something has come up in Libya.”
“Can it wait until Monday at least?”
“Are you reading my mind over the phone?”
“No, I’m telling you I have Chloe until then, and unless there’s a nuclear missile already flying toward DC, whatever you’re going to hit me with can wait until Monday.”
He chuckles. “No nukes. It should be able to wait.”
“I’m going to wind up in Libya, aren’t I?”
“That is a distinct possibility.”
I sigh.
The clerk relents and agrees to let Chloe try to win a prize, but he wants her to stand at twice the distance back. She protests that she’s only thirty five and no stronger than a human. I notice she neglects to point out ‘human adult.’ When the guy looks at me, presumably to make sure I intend to hand over the five bucks the attempt costs, I nod and send, just let he
r think she won that big purple dragon. I’ll buy it for her.
He nods at me and hands her three leather orbs the size of peaches.
“Damn,” I mutter into the phone. “I’d been hoping to get another week with the kid.”
“You could always bring her with you.”
“No damn way,” I say. “She’s a child.”
“Might help your cover.”
I scurry a few steps away from the booth and whisper, “That is against so many protocols, I don’t even know where to begin.”
“We don’t technically have protocols for vampire agents. Technically, she’s over twenty-one years of age. But… your call. Just saying this should be a fairly routine assignment and the kid probably wouldn’t even notice you did anything other than go on vacation.”
“I’m not taking my daughter on a mission.”
“Okay, okay… I’m only trying to think of a way you can spend more time with her,” says Andrew. “You should be back in a few days. This one won’t send you to the ass end of nowhere.”
“The ass end of nowhere falls about midway across Kansas. Where I just went is well beyond that.”
“We have a winner!” shouts the guy running the booth.
Chloe ‘squees’ in delight, and points at the dragon. “Can I have that, please?”
He hands it to her and she runs back to me hugging it. I approach the counter, holding the phone to my shoulder with my cheek, and pay him the $25 he’s thinking about. If Chloe notices I gave him more than the $5 her attempt cost, she doesn’t let on. Hell, if she looked into his head, she knows I bought it for her… but she did still knock all the bottles down.
The man smiles and pats her on the head. “Fare thee well, milady. That’s a fearsome dragon to protect you.”
She grins at him, then curtseys. “Farewell, kind merchant.”
I take her hand and we resume wandering the merchant stalls.
“Sounds like you’re having fun there.” Andrew laughs. “Nice job in Siberia, by the way. See you Monday.”
“Yeah… Monday.” I sigh and hang up.