by Rose O'Brien
When she made it to their group, Alex noticed a little bounce in her step, a contained excitement, and she turned a dazzling smile on her assembled team members. And him. That smile made his thoughts grind to a halt and his guts twist in a knot for a second.
After a brief moment of silence, she gestured to Alex and said, “Well, what do you think?”
Dumeril laughed.
“I think only you could get excited about finding the one sapien that could get us all a Council death sentence,” Dumeril said dryly. “But if you’re excited, I’m excited.” He ended with a higher, sing-song voice, flashing some jazz hands.
“So, is this the sape?”
The question had come from a guy who had stepped up behind Alayna, his voice pitched low so it didn’t carry to the other bar patrons around them He was tall, taller than Alex, marking him at well over six feet. His skin was a mix of olive, copper, and mocha and his features could have let him pass easily for Hispanic, Indian, Native American, or Middle Eastern. He had military training written in his posture, stance and attitude.
Alayna whirled on him and her voice cut like a knife.
“What have I told you about that word, Sergeant?”
That put some steel in his spine. The newcomer snapped to attention and fixed his gaze on the wall behind her. Whew, Alex had been there a time or two and knew a dressing down when he saw one.
There was a subtle sharpness in her voice that all good leaders seemed to be born with. It was quiet, but carried the understanding that they could tear your head off and shit down your neck if you stepped a toe out of line.
She got right up in big guy’s grill, her face inches from his chin thanks to her high-heeled boots, and in a voice as smooth as silk said, “Say it again and I’ll give you a new definition of misery, Burdock. Agent Martinez is kindly considering lending us his expertise, and if you fuck this up I will take it out of your hide, mage.”
A sharp, “Yes, ma’am” was his only response.
Alayna turned back to Alex, flashing the barest hint of a secret smile. “I think you’ve met everyone except Sergeant Attitude Problem, also known as Burdock.”
The guy gave Alex a look that could blister paint and he decided to offer him a nod instead of a handshake. Alex wished Alayna hadn't stepped in like that. Keeping the rank and file in line was part of a commander's job, but respect and teamwork between two people couldn't be forced, especially right away. If he decided to work with the team, the confrontation with Burdock would have to come later.
Walking onto an established team was something that Alex had plenty of experience with. He’d had to do it a few times. The new medic was always a welcome sight, but he’d still developed a few tricks along the way for assimilating.
Alayna grabbed a Mexican martini at the bar and waved the group to a table tucked into an alcove at the back.
As they settled in around the table, she took a seat next to Alex and he appreciated her closeness. His element was about two galaxies back and he felt extremely out of place. At the same time, her closeness made his pulse speed up. She smelled like the air after a thunderstorm, and that scent was making his thoughts jumble.
Alayna sketched a bare outline of his background for the group and explained quickly what had happened that afternoon and her decision to bring him on board with the investigation.
“Between us and sapien law enforcement working separately, we’ve come up with very little on these murders,” Alayna said. “I figured it was time to work together.”
She added, a note of excitement creeping into her voice, “Plus, he’s a lìthseach, and you just don’t see one of them every day.”
“I’m sure the Council would like to get their hands on him,” Burdock said. “We’re taking a big risk in not reporting him.”
Alayna shot him a look that screamed shut the fuck up, you’re scaring the new guy.
“He’s more useful where he is,” she said. “I’ll choose the right time to broach the subject with the brass, and that’s the last I want to hear on the subject.”
Alayna gestured to Ellie, her midnight blue cloak hiding much of her figure and making her appear tiny in a chair made for much larger creatures. He sensed it would be extremely impolite to offer her a booster seat.
“Alex Martinez, meet Ellyjobell Ningle,” Alayna said. “Ellie is our sniper, as well as our security and technology expert. Anything with a circuit board, she can hack it, and she’s never met a lock she couldn’t pick. She’s also the deadliest knife fighter this side of the Fae Realms. Piss her off and she’ll carve your kidney out and hand it to you before you can blink.”
The little gnome extended her hand, “Call me anything but Ellie and you’ll piss me off.”
“10-4, ma’am,” Alex said, his hand dwarfing hers as they shook.
Lu sat next to Ellie.
“Lu is our recon and surveillance expert,” Alayna said. “And she’s the most talented shape shifter I’ve ever seen. Avian, feline, canine shapes, nothing slows this girl down. You need anybody tailed, talk to her. She’s also in charge of all the cameras and equipment.”
Alex nodded.
“Dumeril DiNialo,” Alayna said, gesturing to the smirking creature in the chair next to Lu. “He’s our team medic and the biggest smart-ass you're ever likely to meet, but he’s also a hell of a fighter, so we let him hang around.”
Alex nodded. “I’m not exactly sure how to ask this, but, uh…what are you?”
Dumeril rolled his eyes. “Looks like you picked a real smart one there, Commander.”
"Reeeer," Ellie said, mimicking an angry cat.
Alayna held up a hand to signal that was enough.
Dumeril sighed. “I’m a Svarturan. Sapiens don’t have a lot of legends about us because we’re not a bunch of attention whores like vampires, fairies, and elves.”
Alayna chimed in. “The few legends there are come from Scandinavia and they mistakenly refer to Dumeril’s people as dark elves.”
“That is a term Svarturans consider to be derogatory as we are nothing—I repeat, nothing—like those humorless sticks-up-their-asses elves,” Dumeril snapped.
Alex nodded. He could respect that and made a mental note to do whatever it took to get on Dumeril’s good side. In his experience, it paid to be friends with the medic, especially when people started bleeding.
Last up, Alayna turned to the man seated to her right.
“Burdock is a fire mage and our demolitions and weapons expert. You need anything that goes boom, you talk to him,” Alayna said.
Alex extended his hand. Burdock just looked at it and pointedly met his eyes. They clearly said Alex wasn’t welcome here. Burdock turned to Alayna.
"I want to formally register my reservations about bringing a sapien in on this investigation," he said, drawing out the syllables of the word sapien.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, reservations noted," Alayna said, waving her hand like she was shooing a fly. "We need to get to work on this case. Lu and I will hold down the fort tonight. Everyone else, get some rest. I want each of you to spend some time with your copy of the case files and bring some new ideas to a meeting at HQ first thing tomorrow evening. I'll take tonight and bring Agent Martinez up to speed. Clear?"
Everyone nodded.
"Then I'll see you all tomorrow."
As the rest of the team rose and left the table Alayna turned those startling indigo eyes on him.
“You’re coming with me, cowboy.”
***
Alex flopped into his bed just before 4 a.m., barely bothering to pull sheets and blankets over himself, and letting exhaustion take him.
It felt like he’d been running non-stop for forty-eight hours. In a way, he had, his bout of unconsciousness in the alley notwithstanding. While he could pull that kind of crap when he was twenty-one, his thirty-year-old self was used to keeping more regular hours these days.
Maybe three years with the Bureau had made him soft. God, he hoped not. He was going t
o need everything he had keep up with the crazy crew he’d met tonight, not to mention add something to this murder investigation and keep his own hide intact in light of all the creatures that might want a piece of it.
Alayna had given him the grand tour of what he had dubbed the Bat Cave. The warehouse had a well-stocked motor pool, training facility, crew quarters and offices. The armory was a little heavy on the medieval weaponry and featured few firearms.
“What’s with the museum replicas?” he’d asked Alayna.
Most members of the Mage Corps, it turned out, preferred traditional bladed or blunt weapons. Shifters and vampires could move faster than almost anything in existence and only high-caliber firearms had any chance against their healing abilities.
As for mages, they were usually able to shield themselves from bullets using their powers. Elves and fey could manipulate dimensional rifts and move out of the path of a bullet in the blink of an eye.
Guns were largely impractical and had been deemed by many to be too much of liability in a close fight.
That’s not to say there weren’t a handful of Desert Eagle .50 cals, several shotguns and a few high-powered automatic rifles tucked in a case. An assortment of very well cared for sniper rifles, complete with military-grade scopes, were the sole property of Ellie, she told him.
Sleep was calling his name, but thoughts continued to rattle around in his head, distracting him.
It was clear that Alayna had a good setup and a good team. They just weren’t ready for a murder investigation on this scale.
“Most of the time, it’s one body that turns up and every other vamp or shifter or whatever is more than willing to point fingers at exactly who did it. Everyone knows that we can’t afford any scrutiny from sapiens, and they sure as hell don’t want the Corps to come knocking,” Alayna had said over a dangerously strong cup of coffee in her office.
Most of the time it was easy to track a rogue element, he’d learned. They were typically insane or sloppy, usually both. It was more akin to tracking a rabid animal.
Occasionally, there was a nest of shifters or vamps that let their natures run away with them, or a group of mages that went megalomaniacal and decided to end/take over the world. That’s when the doors got kicked in, blades were drawn, and blood was spilled.
But sometimes, perhaps once in a generation, a smart supernatural killer came along.
Everyone on the team had been trained in basic investigative skills, but so far, even with experts in tracking and hacking, they had come up with few usable leads.
With the case files spread out in front of him, Alayna had outlined what they knew and the conclusions she and the team had come to. Unfortunately for all of them, he agreed with the assessment.
They were dealing with a smart killer or killers.
There was something more to this case than random killings.
And someone was playing with them.
When they were discussing those case files he'd seen something in her face, some small moment of vulnerability. For all their training, for all their expertise, for all their general badassery, this team was up against something new, different and just a little bit scary.
Alex had been there a time or two. So many times in Afghanistan, they never knew what they would find around the next bend in the road, behind the next door, down the next alley. He could only pack his med bag, load his weapon and hope that training, guts, and brains would be enough to get through the mission.
But for Alayna, it was different. She had obviously taken the weight of this on herself. That was a hazard of leadership and he’d seen it before. She was blaming herself for lack of progress. Each new death was like a hammer blow and she couldn't let the team see what it was doing to her.
For some reason, though, she let him see, just for a moment. She was tired, sad, and sick to death of people turning up dead in her town. And she felt like she couldn't talk to anyone about it.
He wanted her to talk to him about it.
Ever since that night in the alley, he'd felt an odd connection to this beautiful and enigmatic woman. She was such an odd mix of pragmatic seriousness and toughness, blended with a wicked sense of humor and bursts of enthusiasm and optimism. And that tantalizing glimpse of something softer, something almost wounded, made him want to know everything about her.
What made her tick?
And what would it be like to touch her, to let his fingers play over that pale skin? Would she blush? What would it feel like to run his hands through that silken hair? Wrap it around his fist?
Whoa, dude. Back up.
It had been a long time since he'd let his thoughts drift in that direction, particularly about someone he was working with. Not since Kelly.
No! He wouldn’t go there. He'd promised himself that he would keep his night-time hours free from thoughts of those who hadn't made it back. It was vital for his sanity. He could think about them when the sun was up and suffer few consequences, but in the wee hours, if he allowed those ghosts into his thoughts he might not sleep for days.
His thoughts settled on Alayna again and he relaxed, remembering the way her hand felt on his face that night in the alley, cool and soft, and how her lips had felt against his, warm and luscious. A pleasant warmth took up residence in his chest at the thought.
The tension was leaving his body, and he felt himself sinking into the mattress. As his scattered, spinning thoughts turned to dreams, he was hit with an image of a little girl with long pale blonde hair, almost silver.
She was sitting on the side of a mountain, green spring grass waving in the wind. A basket with sandwiches and plastic cups sat beside her. She was having tea with a dragon.
***
Early the next morning, Alex was just hitting his stride on the treadmill when his phone rang.
It was his boss. It was so unusual to get a call from Agent Sam Allen, especially on a Sunday, that Alex immediately killed the treadmill and hopped off.
"Martinez," he answered.
"I just got an urgent memo from on high that you've been reassigned. Did you know anything about this?" Sam asked.
Sam was a relatively low-level agent, assigned to manage the handful of agents in the Austin field office. When Alex had first gone to work for him, he'd thought he was nothing but a pencil pusher who had been passed over for better assignments. Fiftyish and balding, with a mustache and a bit of a paunch, Sam wasn't going to win many fights. As he'd gotten to know him, though, Alex came to understand that Sam was actually a hell of an investigator, with a near-legendary attention to detail. Give Sam a pile of documents seized from some shady operator, and he could put together a case in one afternoon that would make federal prosecutors weep with joy.
"I haven't heard a word about it," Alex said, a deep frown creasing his brow. This was going to throw a hell of a wrench in his chances of finding out who killed Blanca. And how was Alayna going to teach him to hide his lìthseach nature? An odd sense of disappointment hit him at the thought of not seeing Alayna again. "Where have I been posted this time?"
"Right here in town," Sam said. "Some special task force."
Sam was quiet for a moment and Alex knew he was compulsively rubbing the corner of his mustache, a move he'd seen him do a thousand times when Sam was mulling something over.
"This is really weird, Alex. I know everything that goes on in this town, and I haven't heard word one about a special task force. The memo doesn't even list an address for your new assignment, just a phone number for you to call to get instructions."
Sam rattled off a number, and Alex saved it in his phone.
"Watch your back, Alex. This is some kind of clandestine shit. Holler if it hits the fan."
Alex thanked him and signed off with assurances that he would check in with Sam later if he could.
Curious, Alex punched in the number. On the third ring he heard the tell-tale click that indicated a forwarding program had kicked in. A few seconds later, Alayna's voice came over the li
ne.
"Did you get my memo?" She was smiling; he could hear it in her voice.
"So, you're the special task force I've been assigned to? How did you make that happen? I thought you weren't connected to the government."
"Technically, we're not," she replied, her serious tone kicking in. "But we have plenty of people placed at all levels. It helps to keep all channels open."
Alex was silent for a moment, trying once again to process just how much his life had changed in a single weekend.
"Alex, you cool with this?"
Not entirely, he wasn’t. What was this going to do to his FBI career? He’d worked so hard to get here, to put this life together. He’d fought hard for it. For an agent with high ambitions, every assignment was critical. How would it look if his file had time unaccounted for on a clandestine operation that certainly wouldn’t have any case notes or performance reviews attached?
At the same time, Alayna was his best chance at finding Blanca’s killer and clearing his conscience. That was more important than a temporary blip in his career. If he didn’t have to split his time between his white collar crimes case load, he could devote a hundred percent to this case. And as soon as this case was wrapped up, his career could pick up where he left off.
"Please tell me my personnel file says I’ve been reassigned to the X-Files."
"I can’t confirm or deny that." The smile had returned to her voice. “See you tonight, Agent.”
Chapter 6
Alex pulled his truck into the garage at HQ and killed the engine. Alayna had texted him and told him that he’d be meeting with Lu, the team’s recon and equipment specialist.
He moved across the open garage space to the training area. HQ appeared deserted. He guessed the rest of the team hadn’t made it in yet.
Alex found Lu sweeping around the edge of a training mat, her broom moving in quick, precise strokes. Her hair was pulled up, and she wore a faded Clash T-shirt and jeans.
“Hey Alex,” she said without looking up. “I’m just finishing a little cleaning. We’ll get started in a minute.”