But this was Brenden. One of the senior vampires of the agency and very much higher in rank than she was—even if Nayara continuously disputed that there was ranks or seniority in the agency. Brenden was older than any other vampire in the agency, except perhaps for Nayara herself and she kept her real age a closely-guarded secret. Brenden had emerged from Sparta as the Persians had conquered it and had been roaming the earth ever since.
She was baiting a man that had survived wars untold. What on earth did she think she was doing?
In the end she said nothing. She straightened herself to her full height—which was somewhat less than his—and looked him in the eye.
Brenden took another pace toward her. There was fury in his eyes.
A heavy hand fell on her shoulder and squeezed. Mariana mentally sighed. Would people ever stop coming up to her from behind like that? It was the third time this morning.
Kieran moved around to stand next to her. “Is there a problem?” he asked in his deep voice. Kieran was one of the few people that could look Brenden in the eye, because he was just as tall. He wasn’t as big across the shoulders but that didn’t seem to matter with Kieran. He was ex-Universal Wardens and one of the best para-military men in the world. Perhaps it was that which gave him the confidence to confront a very pissed vampire.
Brenden hissed his annoyance.
Mariana quickly explained to Kieran what the problem was. She omitted anything about human-slow responses.
Kieran held his hand out for Brenden’s board and the vampire pushed it into his fingers with what sounded like a sigh.
Kieran flipped through the pages quickly. “You’re right. This would take a month.” He handed the board back. “What if I scanned them, instead?”
Brenden frowned. “You can do that?”
Kieran gave brief smile. “Deep enough to wrinkle out any psi that might be among them. It won’t take me a month, either.”
Brenden lifted his hand up from his side. “Then I would owe you a great debt. Thank you,” he added sincerely.
“Do you have them corralled somewhere?” Kieran asked.
“At the front gate.”
“I’ll meet you there in five minutes.”
Brenden blew out his breath. Then, with a sideways look at her, he strode toward the front courtyard.
Mariana looked at Kieran. “Thank you,” she added. “I wouldn’t have asked you to do it, even if I had known that you could.” She had heard that Kieran was somewhat sensitive about his recently acquired psi abilities.
Kieran’s grey-green gaze studied her frankly. “It’s part of my job, now.”
“Your…talents?”
“Nayara hired me because of my skills and my talents, too. If I can use them to help, then I will.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Mariana told him. “Except that I don’t really know what you can do.” Nor did most of the agency. She suspected even Kieran was still figuring that out.
“Next time, if you think I can help in some way—any way at all—why don’t you ask?” He turned his head to look at Brenden, who had reached the end of the gallery now and was heading for the big doors out onto the courtyard. “You won’t be able to score points off me. My hide is too thick.”
Mariana could feel her cheeks heating and hated it. But then, Kieran could probably read every thought in her head. He had acquired all Pritti’s training, abilities and expertise when she died and she had at the very least been able to broach human minds.
Mariana looked at him, trying hard to meet his gaze without flinching. “Brenden isn’t usually like that.”
“I know.”
“He’s just frustrated.”
“I know that, too. But you do seem to be able to rile him up quicker than anyone else in the agency.”
“Brenden’s very old,” she explained. “He has an inbred intolerance for humans. Vampires his age used to think of humans as pets or slaves or just food. But he works hard to overcome his prejudices.”
“Especially in bed, huh?” Kieran asked dryly.
She winced. “That was a very inappropriate comment,” she admitted. “I should apologize.”
“Don’t,” Kieran said shortly. “It’ll do him good to know that there’s at least one human who doesn’t think he’s wonderful.” There was a tilt to the corner of his mouth and a sparkle in his eyes that told her he was teasing. Just a bit.
Mariana relaxed. “I’m glad you left the Wardens,” she said impulsively. “You’ve become a nice person.”
Kieran’s brows rose. “Don’t let the secret out, hmm? And now, I must go scan the incoming or Brenden will be after me, next.”
Mariana smiled to herself as he walked away, moving fast down the gallery, following Brenden. It was one of the few nice moments in her morning and it lasted only another few seconds, until the scream broke out behind her.
Chapter Two
Chronometric Conservation Agency Headquarters, Villa Fontani, Rome, 2265 A.D.
Gawaine had always had a thing for systems, especially electronic and neural ones. While others, even experts, had to patiently trace out the tides and paths and the neo-limbic systems, he could see the overall pattern in a moment or two of study. Neural nets were a bipolar system of electronics and neural relays and he understood the interactions of the two instinctively.
That’s why he knew what the woman was doing with her feeds was all wrong. Dangerously so.
He walked over to the first relay dashboard and studied the configuration, taking in what she thought she was doing, while assessing how she should be doing it. There wasn’t any impatience driving him. It was a nice, late summer day, Marley would be busy for hours yet and he was free to wander around the Chronometric Conservation Agency, to poke and pry as he was so moved.
The inner workings of the agency never failed to fascinate him and once the vampires that worked for the agency understood that he was Marley’s friend and that she didn’t go anywhere without him, then they were happy to answer his questions—as long as the questions weren’t personal. Dealing with Rhydder had quickly taught him not to ask anything about a vampire’s past, but that was fine. Personal histories weren’t nearly as interesting as what was happening right now, although the vampires seemed to set a high value on a long history.
So Gawaine stood in the bright sunlight and mentally traced the paths, feeling a contended peacefulness.
“And who are you?”
He looked up. Then down a little. The woman, Mavourneen, was standing in front of him, her hands on her hips, and a bright enquiring smile on her face. Her eyes, he noticed, were a chocolate color that would have been warm and friendly except for the glint of ice in them.
“Hiya. I’m harmless. Don’t worry about me.” He went back to the dashboard.
“I’m sure you’re quite harmless. That wasn’t what I asked.”
He looked up again. “Gawaine,” he said patiently. “Ask anyone at the agency about me. They’ll vouch for me. Do you always run your neural tides along the electronic circuits like this?”
“Do not touch that!” She stepped forward, closer to the dashboard. “That is proprietary work. You shouldn’t even be looking at it. Who let you in here?”
“I told you—”
“You’re harmless,” she finished with a snap that made Gawaine wonder if her red hair was quite as enhanced as it appeared. There was a temper in there and it was simmering.
For the first time, Gawaine considered that he might be offending her. “Look, hey, I’m just curious, that’s all. I wasn’t going to touch it, but if I could just look at the neo-limbic core—”
She crossed her arms. “No.”
He had upset her. Marley was always on his case about letting his geeky side run too wild and he’d done it again. He held out a hand, signally peace. “I’m sorry. Really. My roommate says I have all the social skills of an elephant in mating season and sometimes I think she’s right. Not always, but neurals always make me switch off t
hat part of my brain, which is kinda ironic, really.”
The woman stood silent as a stone. Her expression was stony, too.
“No, really,” he said, trying again to smooth it over. He turned back to the dashboard. “I saw your layout here and it’s…it’s fascinating,” he lied desperately, for fascination was the last thing he felt about the offensive tangle of circuitry in front of him. “I can see you’ve got some really powerful feeds coming in.” He reached to point to a cluster at the top of the board. “I’ve never seen input feeds like those. It almost looks like, well, weather.”
His hand didn’t make contact with the board. With a screech that made the hair on the back of his neck rise, she snatched away his wrist and at the same time her body slammed into his. Gawaine went staggering, surprise doing more to move him than her bodyweight. She was as light as a snowball.
But then she fell on him, leaping up from the ground with a jump that was astonishingly powerful, to land right on top of him where he stood with his jaw hanging open in stupid surprise. This time he did fall and her knees on his chest drove the wind out of him. The impact of the ground against his back made his ribcage and shoulders creak.
He tried to breathe, but her weight on him and the shock of his landing had locked up his chest. He drew in shallow sips of air, telling himself to stay calm, that he would be able to breathe better in a minute or two. He just had to draw air slow and steady for now or he would pass out.
The woman’s fingers were gripping his shirt at the shoulders. She was holding him down—as if he was capable of any sort of defense right then. Her leap upon him had disturbed her clothing and where the multi-colored shirt-thing wrapped over at the front, it had come askew and was gaping. He tore his gaze away as he realized he was looking at the tops of her breasts. Two full, rounded milky breasts….
She tapped his cheek with one hand, not gently. He looked at her face. She waved her finger at him, like he was a naughty schoolboy. “That is how you get your neck broken for you. Don’t touch. Don’t pry.”
“You’re a vampire!” he gasped. There could be no other conclusion. Her leap, the unearthly scream, the way she was holding him down, even the very exact way she was speaking all said she was.
“Very good,” she conceded. “Does that scare you?”
He considered. “Only if you really do want to break my neck. I know I couldn’t stop you.” It took two inhalations to get it out. But he could feel the pressure on his chest starting to ease as the muscles relaxed.
“Smart, too,” she crooned and her finger slid along his jawline. “For a human, you’re quite intelligent. I like smart people.”
He stared at her, the flesh along his jaw sizzling at her touch. “Are you…hitting on me?” he asked.
“I seduce. I don’t hit,” she replied. “Do you want me to seduce you?”
He cleared his throat. “Not that I don’t find it flattering, that you’re even considering seducing me,” he began, “but part of the problem is that women like you don’t even see guys like me, generally. So…and again, I mean this is the nicest way possible, but I find it hard to believe your offer is genuine. Something in the order of two hundred to one against it. That’s about how often my offer is taken up, against how often I consider offering. And that’s another thing, no offence, but shouldn’t I be the one offering? If I wanted to offer, that is. Because—and I can’t believe I’m going to say this—but you’re sitting on top of me and that has a way of diminishing a guy’s ego, to the point where even if he really was interested enough to offer, he probably couldn’t get the words out because he felt like such an idiot. Speaking hypothetically, of course.” He managed to halt his tongue then. He blew out his breath and looked at her.
She studied him, her knees not moving. “You’ve never had a woman on top?”
“Dozens,” he said instantly. “But their knees are not usually where yours are.”
She smiled and this time it wasn’t a polite, neutral expression like when she had first looked at him. This time, her smile made his breath hitch again. “You have some things to unlearn, young one, like your quaint idea about the man controlling things. A man doesn’t always want control. Many men like to be seduced. They like a woman to take charge, to take control of their pleasure and orchestrate it in time with their obedience. I know, because I have been such a conductor many, many times.” She leaned down, bringing her face closer to his and even closer, to the point where her lips were brushing his cheek. “I could give you such pleasure, little one. Say yes.”
His chest was back to being locked again, for the pressure of her knees had intensified as she folded over and brought her head toward his. Gawaine instinctively reached for her, to push her off his chest. His hands nearly came together as he grabbed her waist. It was a lot smaller than the wispy semi-transparent fabric had hinted at. And soft. So soft.
He lifted her for she was, after all, the weight of a snowball even if her vampire status gave her muscle power to spare. Gently, he put her back on her knees on the grass beside him and sat up and brushed at his shirt. “Thanks for the offer, Mavourneen, but I think I’m just an old fashioned guy. Whips and ropes don’t do it for me.”
She smiled at him. “Call me Neena.”
“Neena,” he amended.
Then she swung her fist and caught him on the corner of his jaw. “Do not ever touch my equipment again!” she screamed at him. Then she got to her feet and stalked across the dried out grass, her boot heels digging into the soil with each step. She brushed past Mariana, who was still standing on the verandah, her reading board in her hands.
She had been watching. Her eyes were very large. That meant news of what he had done would reach Nayara. Gawaine had a healthy respect for the chief of the Agency. He didn’t want her attention drawn too closely to him, for she might pull his visiting privileges. Now, this.
Gawaine rubbed at his jaw. He could taste copper in his mouth and pushed a finger inside, exploring. He withdrew it and it was covered in blood. “Perfect.” Relationship stuff wasn’t nearly as straightforward as circuits. No wonder he could never get it right.
* * * * *
Chronometric Conservation Agency Headquarters, Villa Fontani, Rome, 2265 A.D. – some hours later.
There were no formal business hours at the agency. Vampires could work around the clock if they chose to and the time jumping they did meant that even if they did have internal body clocks like humans, they would have been all messed up from the jumps, anyway. The work went on, as the personnel involved in each project ebbed and flowed.
Mariana had got into the habit of working until she was tired, then sleeping for the eight hours or so her body needed, regardless of the time of day it might be. She would rise, shower and dress and head back to the offices. On the way she would stop for food and coffee and often took it with her back to her desk. Eating, socializing and even relaxing had been integrated into her work so that they blended seamlessly. Most days, Mariana considered her job to be one of the best in the world and marveled over the run of sheer luck that had landed her here.
But not today. Around three p.m., she found her energy flagging and her body throbbing with tiredness. She wasn’t hungry and it was too early for her to retire for eight hours, even though Nayara insisted that if she wanted to continue working so hard, she must listen to her body and feed and care for herself as needed. Normally, her energy would run out later in the day as she followed a nearly normal human work day pattern. But today, she was wilting.
She logged a message for Nayara’s implant, for Nayara to pick up when she had a spare moment, letting her know she was off-grid for a while, then made her way through the elegant colonnaded walks and open passageways, through two cavedium and into the personal wing where agency people had rooms. Nayara had strictly limited the numbers that lived within the agency, for it was located in the heart of Rome and accommodation could be found in the city. Unlike the space station, Villa Fontani was easy to reach at an
y time of day for those agency people who couldn’t just jump where they wanted to go.
Mariana’s quarters were one of the smaller suites. She had assigned herself the smallest as she was never there, anyway. But it had a comfortable bedroom, bathroom and a small sitting room with a window looking out onto Nayara’s rose garden. She sat on the sofa that faced the big window and let out a slow, soft sigh.
Why was she so tired? Just because the day had begun with challenges and hadn’t slowed since wasn’t a good enough explanation. She had a lot of days like that.
As she sat considering, Mariana realized that she wasn’t so tired she could fall into bed and be instantly asleep, which was what happened most nights. Instead, most of the draining sensation came from a place inside her that seemed tight and hard. It was making her body ache.
As soon as she localized the tension, she knew what had caused it. Rubbing her temples with her thumbs, she let herself recall one more time the moments with Brenden.
I can’t stand here waiting for your human-slow brain to get it.
The way he had wrenched the board out of her fingers.
His anger.
The look in his eyes, made of equal parts of contempt and impatience.
Mariana pushed to her feet, the roiling in her guts and the heavy, hard beat of her heart not letting her sit still. There was no way she was going to be able to go to sleep, even if she didn’t let herself think about it. If she even could stop herself from thinking about it.
She turned on her toes, looking for something, anything, to distract herself with, but the room was as impersonal as it had been when she moved in. Her job was her sole distraction—but Brenden was a part of that job. When she had been taken back into the past, two years ago, she had lost contact with all the neural net groups that had been her entire social life, too.
There wasn’t anyone in the Villa that she could call upon just because. She didn’t know anyone in a personal way like that, even though she considered nearly everyone at the Agency to be a friend of one degree or another. Vampires treated friendship differently. It was an undemanding thing that didn’t require attention, time and pre-planned social events to weld them together. A day, a year or a century could go by, but if one friend asked another for help, that vampire would circle the globe and the nine worlds besides, if that’s what it took to help.
Spartan Resistance Page 2
