Wakey took a spoonful of tiramisu.
Grechen took a spoonful of fudge cake drowned in fudge sauce. “If you don’t start talking, I will take these desserts away from you,” she threatened.
He smirked while swallowing. “Where was I?”
“Being the best friend anyone has ever heard of.”
“Yes!” he said. “That would be me! In which way was I expressing my friendly perfection?”
“Indulging Falcon’s insanity while he took care of bodily functions and requisite grooming.”
“Yeah. Pee and shower breaks. Whenever I’d try to talk to him about it, he’d just cut me off and say something like, ‘Don’t bother. This is what I’m doing and you’re not going to talk me out of it’. This went on for a couple of days, but then something really unexpected happened.”
“What?”
“You know about the immortals?” She nodded. “Well, Monq had this idea that we could ask Jean Etienne for help with an experiment. Monq wanted to find out what would happen if a little bit of immortal blood was given to the vamps. He thought it might, well, not cure them exactly, but return normal brain function. That was his hope.
“So Jean Etienne agreed. They injected a little of his blood into the test subjects, including Genevieve. The male vampire had seizures and threw themselves around their cells for a few minutes before dying of cardiac arrest. But Genevieve, well, I guess you’d say she was a success.
“Her human brain function resumed normalcy. It was kind of awful because, from her perspective, one minute she was finishing up a nice day of shopping in New York, the next thing she knows she’s in a cell in the deepest sublevel of J.U. being told she’s a vampire.
“It was bad for her and bad for Kris to have to watch her go through that. But here’s another twist to an already strange tale. Jean Etienne started spending time with her to try and help her make an adjustment. She was doing okay on the blood substitute Monq had developed to keep subjects alive, but they knew that she’d have to be monitored to see how long the effect of the immortal blood would last.
“While that was going on, I guess Genevieve and Jean Etienne fell in love. Right in front of Kris. With him watching and hearing the whole thing. But even when they left, you know, the immortal way, where they just disappeared, Kris wasn’t about to let it go. He had some crazy notion that maybe it hadn’t been her choice to go.
“So he went AWOL to look for her in Paris.”
Gretchen had been rapt throughout the telling of that part of the story, but her eyes got big again when Wakey used the term ‘AWOL’.
“Wow,” she said quietly.
“Exactly what I thought. They sent none other than our current Sovereign, Glen Catch, after him. Well, they also sent Rosie Storm. And…” Wakey had to stop and chuckle with a little bit of misplaced pride in his partner. “…he managed to give them the slip in New York.”
“Wow,” she said again.
“I know! Right? Anyhow, he made them chase him all the way to Paris. They assigned five knights, including Catch and Rosie Storm, to get him back here.” Again, Gretchen could see that Wakey was taking some perverse pride in his partner’s brief stint as an outlaw. “But he got what he needed. Jean Etienne brought Genevieve, the vampire, to the airport where Kris was being held, so that she could tell him to his face that she was where she wanted to be.”
Wakey motioned the waiter with two fingers and held up his cup. After he’d received a refill, he asked if she wanted more.
She shook her head. “No. Thank you.”
“You could probably guess they weren’t going to send my partner right back to duty. Under less unusual circumstances he would have been given a dishonorable discharge and that would have been that. But Catch and Monq, who were the decision makers, both agreed that this wasn't something that would happen again.
“So Monq set about rehabilitating Kris with counseling sessions. His conclusion was that the whole thing was more a perfect storm of unlikely events intersecting than an indication of psychopathology. So, after a time, they let him return to duty.”
He looked at Grechen over his coffee cup as he took a sip and said, “Enter you.”
Gretchen sucked in a little gasp. “Oh, gods.”
“Yep.”
“So he comes to the Operations Office expecting to find Farnsworth and…”
“There you are…”
“…looking somewhat like the former director…”
“…who’d been turned into a vampire by request.”
“You’re right. It was a perfect storm. What are the odds that I would look something like her? I mean my coloring is…”
“Unusual.”
“Yes.”
“Like I always say, fate is a tragedy that wanted to be a comedy. It’s never funny, but it keeps trying to get a laugh.”
“You always say that?”
Her tone suggested disbelief, but he doubled down. “Always.”
Getting back on point, she said, “That explains why he looked so surprised, then turned around and left without saying what he wanted.”
“Good. Now that we have that straight.”
Her eyes came back to Wakey’s as she was trying to sort it all out. “Now that we have that straight, what?”
“Now maybe you’ll take pity on him, give him a pass for the way he acted at dinner, and let him start over?”
Her brows knitted together. “No,” she said incredulously, like she couldn’t believe what he was saying.
“No? Why not?”
“Because, Wakenmann, who wants to be somebody’s second choice only because you look a little like the first choice? Let me answer that. No one.” She looked around for her purse. “I’m going to go to the Ladies’ while you pay. I’m not going to argue about the check because I know for a fact that you make ten times what I do. It was a very nice dinner and a nice thing you tried to do for your friend. I’ll be ready to go when I get back.”
He was shaking his head. “No. No. No. No. That was not the conclusion you were supposed to come to.”
She stared at him for several beats, blinked twice, and walked away to find the lounge.
Wakey wanted to groan out loud. As he watched her go, he sat there wondering how he could possibly have engineered a disastrous result like that.
As instructed, he dutifully got the check, paid, and left the waiter a nice tip. Wakey knew the waiter shouldn’t be blamed for his customer’s mission failure.
They left the restaurant in silence. Wakey opened the car door for Gretchen. As he walked around to the driver’s side he was still scrambling to come up with something to say to turn things around.
He got in, closed his door, but didn’t start the car. They sat in silence in the dim light of the parking lot for a while. Finally Wakey said, “I just can’t leave knowing that I’ve made things worse instead of better.”
“Falcon is lucky to have you for a friend. If what he’s looking for is somebody who vaguely fits a certain physical description, we can find him somebody on Match.com.”
“You know that’s not all there is to it.”
“I don’t know that. Look, I feel bad about the whole thing that happened. I mean it really is a kind of tragic story, at least for Falcon. Sounds like it turned out okay for her.”
“Look, yourself. Most people who are cute enough to have choices have a type. If you search your heart, you’re going to see that if you were purely objectifying somebody, you might prefer guys with a certain look. That doesn’t mean there’s going to be a connection. You might get a date with that person and decide you’d rather be with a dead fish, stink and all. But we’re only human. We see people with our eyes first and our hearts later.
“Kris saw you and liked what he saw so much that it scared him into trying to be sure he’d never get the chance to find out if he might like what’s inside the package as much as he likes what’s outside. You could do worse than somebody who thinks you’re…”
“…fat?”
Wakey shook his head. “He said that because he didn’t trust himself not to become obsessed with another beautiful woman. Not because he thinks that. He was scared of you and trying to head things off by making you mad.”
She faced the windshield. “It worked.”
“I know. Give him a chance to start over. Maybe you’ll like him. Maybe he’ll like you. Maybe not. But it’s silly to say you won’t talk to him because his last infatuation was a poor man’s version of you.”
That made her grin and turn his way. “You slick talking devil. Poor man’s version?” She made a circular motion with her hand indicating that he should ignite the engine. “Alright already. Jeez. You’re wearing me down. Take me home. I’ve got a work day tomorrow. The next time he tries to talk to me, I’ll be civil. That’s all I’m promising for now.”
“Civil? Is that a step forward?”
She chuckled. “No. It’s a leap forward.”
He started the car, grinning. “Thank the gods. My work is done here.”
Falcon found himself on his own after dinner. Wakey was out on a date. Sin and Spaz had gone to a party in Newark. It was just as well. He wasn’t in the mood for being social anyway. So he headed for the media center.
They’d recently taken out a couple of walls and turned a few storage rooms into a movie theatre with a wall-sized screen and thirty comfy recliners. They’d decorated it like the old time theaters, in art deco with red and gold patterned carpet and red velveteen chairs.
They played first run films, sometimes before they opened at the cinemas.
Every night after dinner the seniors assigned to entertainment paired a first run movie with a film taken from the employee request list in order of sign up. The only rules were no porn and no horror. For obvious reasons, management - that would be the Sovereign - thought the knights needed something besides horror to occupy their minds when they weren’t on duty.
Twice the trainees had loaded up porn and twice they’d come to wish they’d never thought of it. Sovereign Glendennon Catch was a genius at devising creative punishments for wrongdoing.
The first movie was a technothriller about a Black Hat being released from prison in exchange for hacking the Chinese. Falcon didn’t think it was great, but the popcorn was good. Since he didn’t have anything in particular to do, he stayed for the second movie. He was the only one in the theater, which meant the person who requested it missed out.
The film was A Walk in the Clouds, a 1995 romance that was perhaps one of the most romantically engaging movies ever made. As the story unfolded, he slowly began to feel something shift, be it attitude, or perspective, or experience. He wasn’t all hard edges and vampire hunter. He had a romantic side, one that was exaggerated enough to get him into trouble. By the time the credits ran, Kris Falcon had decided that what he needed was not to abandon the possibility of romance, but to learn moderation.
He’d pushed too hard and hung on far too long to a fantasy that there might be a connection with Director of Operations number one. It had almost cost him everything he’d worked for, everything he’d wanted, and some things he hadn’t known he wanted. But sitting in a darkened movie theater, he decided that perhaps he’d given up on Director of Operations number two before the thing had a chance to begin.
He’d thought he’d washed his hands of further pursuit of Gretchen Galen, but even guys change their minds. Like most Black Swan knights, Falcon was decisive and prone to action. So while still parked in the red velveteen recliner, alone, he pulled out his phone and sent a text to his favorite florist.
The next morning at ten o’clock Guarza arrived at the Operations Office.
Gretchen looked up, half hoping he’d be carrying an armload of flowers. She’d never admit it, even to herself, but she felt the let down of disappointment when he walked in with nothing but a smile and a, “Good morning.”
She gave him a list of things he was qualified to do and got back to work. It was the day the Chinese were arriving. So she expected to be busy.
At one o’clock she sat with eyes glued to the computer screen, fingers flying across the keyboard, and a neglected, half eaten sandwich on her desk. Her trainee assistant had left at twelve thirty to get lunch and go to training exercises.
The sound of someone clearing his throat almost made her jump. She looked up to see Kris Falcon’s lively dark eyes and a smirk that said he thought it was cute that she was startled. Next to him was an enormous arrangement of red flowers; carnations and roses with white lilies interspersed. It looked like a giant Valentine. And she couldn’t stop herself from smiling.
“Are those for me?” she asked.
“There’s a card,” he said.
“Well, let’s see then.”
She walked over and took the card from its envelope. It read, For your desk. Red is your color. Please accept my apology. - Kris Falcon
She looked up into his eyes and quietly said, “Okay.”
He looked surprised, almost shocked. “Okay?”
“Was that the wrong answer?”
“That was the perfect answer. But if you’re in a mood to say okay, will you let me take you out Saturday? I have the night off.”
“Can’t. Promised Saturday night to Jan and Camilla. They’re going to show me some clubs in Manhattan.”
“Oh yeah. I forgot.” He looked so disappointed, she almost better-dealed Jan and Camilla.
“Maybe another time?”
His gaze jerked back up to her face like he hadn’t expected to get another shot. “Monday.”
She shook her head. “Too much going on for me to go out on week nights.”
“Next Friday?”
She smiled. “Yes. I close the office at seven.”
“Seven.”
“No. I need a few minutes to change. Where are we going?”
“I, ah, hadn’t made plans. Where do you want to go?”
“Someplace in New York. I just need to know what to wear.”
A deep voice behind him said, “You giving fashion advice, Falcon? Because I’d like to know what to wear, too.”
Gretchen looked around Falcon. “Sir Caelian. Give me just a second.”
Kris scowled at the interruption and his discomfort made Kay chuckle. He turned back to Gretchen. “I’ll get back to you on that.”
Gretchen smiled and nodded.
When Falcon reached the door, he heard Kay say loudly, “You’re not going out with him!” He didn’t wait for her reply, though he wanted to. Dignity dictated that he keep walking. He had stuff to do. Vampire to kill. Dates to plan.
Once he was sure Falcon was out of earshot, Kay lowered his voice and winked at Gretchen. “You could do worse.”
Not the least embarrassed about being caught booking a date, she smiled and nodded. “What can I do for you?”
“Gonna miss my girl’s birthday. So I need something special to make up for it.”
“Got something in mind?”
CHAPTER SEVEN
The next Saturday was karaoke night at Jefferson Unit. Falcon’s teammates had plans involving girls. He couldn’t stay around or somebody would see him and drag him to Mess, where they turned the place into a karaoke club once a month after dinner. Since he’d rather be tied to a whipping post than have to pretend he could carry a tune, the best option was to disappear.
He could just as easily catch a movie in New York. Maybe stumble on a casual hookup. It had been a while and his seminal channels were overdue for a good flushing out.
There was a big cinema complex on 42nd so he claimed the copilot seat on a whister drop to the 37th street pad.
“You trying to avoid karaoke again?” Carmichael, the whister pilot, laughed as Falcon clicked his seatbelt.
“Actually I’ve been instructed to grade you on your flying,” Falcon said with a serious expression. “It’s not just you. Everybody’s going to have to pass inspection.”
Carmichael’s laughter faded and he looke
d worried. “Really?”
Falcon laughed. “No. Not really. I’m just messing with you.”
“Mother…”
“Ah. Ah. Language goes on my report.”
“You’re a funny guy, Falcon. So what takes you to the Big Apple?”
Falcon shrugged and looked out the window as they lifted off. “Night off and nothing to do.”
Carmichael smirked. “Oh to be young.”
Falcon rolled his eyes. “What are you? Thirty?”
“Thirty-two! Over the hill by knight standards.”
“Well, there’s a whole big world out there that doesn’t even know there’s such a thing as knights.”
“Tell me about it. Try keeping what you do secret from your wife.”
Falcon thought about that for a minute. “Yeah, well, I don’t have a wife, but I can see how that wouldn’t be easy.”
He rode down the elevator with E Team. “Can’t help but notice, you guys look a little worn around the edges,” he said.
Hereford spoke up. “Yeah. Well, lately we’ve seen action every time we go out. Just plain weird.” He turned to his teammates. “Remember when we used to go for weeks without finding a biter?”
They murmured and nodded assent.
He turned back to Falcon. “The good news is we’re clocking vamps. Bad news is, it takes a lot out of you.”
“Chinese got here yesterday. Maybe that’ll take some of the pressure off.”
“Yeah, maybe.” When they reached the street, E Team said their goodbyes and instantly morphed into vampire hunters. Falcon was thinking it was a visual thing. He could see the change in posture and tension when they officially went on duty and he briefly wondered if K Team changed in the same way.
He saw a political thriller, an homage to the Cold War era. When he was back out on the street, he stood stock still for a couple of minutes trying to decide whether he wanted to hit a couple of bars where women his age were known to prowl on weekends or head back to J.U. He glanced at his watch. By the time he got back, it would be too late to rope him into karaoke.
After a few more seconds of indecision, he opted to head toward the 37th street whister pick up. It was a nice night. Cool, but still. As if he’d summoned the element of air with that thought, the wind picked up. As he started walking, he pulled his hood over his head.
FALCON: Resistance (KBS Next Generation Book 1) Page 8
