“We’re supposed to be moving our stuff to Hunter Abbey. Or has everybody lost sight of that fact along with their minds?” Deck asked.
“You’re implyin’ that we’ve lost our minds?” Torn asked incredulously. “Thirty seconds ago you were promotin’ a catfight fantasy between my mate and her sister.”
“I was joking,” Deck said.
Torn shook his head. “Do no’ think so.”
“Well, I didn’t think it was going to happen which is the same thing as joking.”
Torn narrowed his eyes. “That sounded suspiciously like the demon double speak that we keep hearin’ about.”
Lyric interjected. “Double speak is just a rumor without basis in fact.”
Torn looked at Lyric. “Right. Fake news.”
“No, really,” Lyric said. “Just another way that we’ve been maligned by angels. They’re masters at controlling the narrative.”
“He’s right,” Shy said to Lyric.
“Yeah,” Deck affirmed.
“I can’t go on a date today. I’m busy movin’,” Shivaun told Lyric.
“How about tomorrow?” Lyric pressed.
“Maybe. Where would we go?”
“The River Road music festival at this ice house in New Braunfels?” When she didn’t seem opposed to the idea, he embellished the plan. “We can watch people get drunk and fall down on the deck. Swim in the river. Make wildflowers.”
“We can make wildflowers?” She looked as rapt as if she was under a spell.
He smiled. “You really are new. There’s so much I can teach you.”
“I’ll bet,” Deck said with undisguised disgust.
Ignoring her partner, Shivaun said, “Where’s New Braunfels?”
“Texas.” Lyric smiled seductively like Texas was the best destination in all the worlds eligible for a first date.
“Texas,” she repeated. “Aye. Tomorrow.”
CHAPTER NINE
SIMON SAYS
It was unusual for Simon to keep Rosie waiting. She’d paced in his outer office for a full ten minutes while he finished a meeting with someone else. Glen sat calmly and watched silently for a time before saying, “Are you nervous about something?”
She stopped and stared at Glen for a couple of beats before resuming the pacing. “My project took a sharp left and headed south, but it wasn’t my fault. Unless you’re going to say that whatever happens on the boss’s watch is her responsibility.” She stopped and looked at Glen. “And it would be just like you to say that. You’re such a goody two shoes.”
He gaped for about two seconds before doubling over in peals of laughter.
“What’s so funny?”
“What’s so funny?!?” he repeated. “You called me a goody two shoes and then want to know what’s funny?”
“Stow the misplaced pride in your bad boy history, husband. I’m talking about the fact that you’re a stickler for rules. Sol-Nemamiah style leadership.”
He’d grown serious at the reference. “I could do worse.”
She was wiggling her head on her shoulders in an indecipherable way when Simon’s door opened. Simon ushered a well-dressed middle-aged man past without even acknowledging Glen or Rosie.
“This is bad!” she whispered to Glen.
“What makes you think that?” Glen’s tone was conversational.
“Because he didn’t nod or make eye contact. Or anything!”
Simon had walked the visitor all the way to the front entrance of headquarters. When he stepped back in, he said something to his secretary then looked at Glen and Rosie for the first time.
As he walked past them, he said, “Come in. Tea service is on the way.”
Behind Simon’s back Rosie’s eyes bugged and she mouthed, “Tea?”
Glen struck a meditation pose, hoping that she would interpret it as, “Relax!”
“Sit,” Simon instructed as he sat in the big tufted leather swivel chair behind his desk.
Rosie noticed that there’d been some changes.
For one thing, there was an eighteen-inch bronze sculpture of a Hebridean sheep on a pedestal in the corner. She suspected it would be worth a fortune. The visitor chairs had also been recovered in a McCain hunting tartan that added to the feeling of luxurious masculine workspace.
“I see you’ve made some changes,” Rosie said.
“What?” Simon looked around. “Oh.” In answer, he simply turned a framed photo of Sorcha around to face Rosie.
“Well, she has good taste.”
“She does.” Simon’s expression had softened just a tad. Enough so that Rosie wished they could keep him on the subject of his wife for a bit, have some tea and cakes, and get the hel out. Glen and Simon chatted about the ongoing struggle to control vampire in New York until the tea service arrived. When the door closed, Simon said, “Now to business.”
“I take full responsibility for what’s happened,” Rosie volunteered, deciding that a preemptive offer of resignation was better than being fired. “And of course, I’ll offer a letter of resignation and withdraw quietly.”
Simon shook his head in tiny movements back and forth like he was completely lost. “What is it you’re taking full responsibility for?” His face grew stern. “Gods almighty. Has one of the demons gone rogue?”
“No…” she began.
“ALL OF THEM?”
“Simon. The hunters are Black Swan to the core. They’re not going ‘rogue’. Have you been worrying about that?”
“Elora Rose, everybody in Black Swan, near and far, is worried about that. We’re not going to, ah, decommission our own people. But on the other hand… It’s a concern. A big concern.”
She tried to remember if she’d ever heard of any Black Swan hunter being decommissioned. Then it hit her that it was a euphemism.
Rosie stood suddenly. “You mean killed!?!”
She was so stunned by the idea that such a thing had, apparently, been considered, even discussed, that she momentarily lost the tight control she kept on her emotions.
The floor beneath them rumbled as the Royal Doulton cups rattled in their saucers.
“Did you feel that?” Simon asked.
Suspecting that Rosie was the cause and wanting to cover for her, Glen said, “Feel what?”
“You’re not killing my hunters,” she said resolutely.
Simon glanced at Glen before pinning Rosie with the practiced gaze of a man who was used to telling people what they would and wouldn’t do.
“Sit down, Elora Rose. Nobody said anything about killing. Your hunters are not in danger from Black Swan. In the event one of the Wild Bunch develops a problem, we have a secret weapon.”
She took in a deep breath of relief and sat. Then replayed the rest of that sentence in her head. “What secret weapon?”
“You.”
“Oh. I’m not killing my hunters either.”
“No. Of course not. We’re just running doomsday scenarios. It’s what we do. The worst that could happen to them is exile from Loti.”
“Why do you think there are going to be problems?”
Simon sighed. “I’m not making a prediction. I’m coming down on the side of optimism where the Wild Bunch is concerned. But we have to be realistic. They’ve undergone massive physiological changes. We don’t know yet what changes have taken place in brain chemistry or neurological pathways. Their synapses may be firing in ways that are alien to us.”
“To us?” Rosie said, beginning to feel like the target of a racist rant. “Does that include me?”
“Are you deliberately trying to be difficult today? No. It does not include you. We already know that your behavior is a hundred percent trustworthy.”
“I see,” she said without feeling conviction behind the words. She’d arrived at Simon’s office feeling responsible, at least partially so, for people having been turned into demons. Whether that feeling was justified or not was debatable. But she would be leaving Simon’s office feeling very protective of
her baby demons.
“So what is it you’re taking responsibility for?” Simon asked.
Realizing that the director was addressing her, she shook herself out of her daze and said, “Hmmm? Oh, for the whole, um, people turning demon thing.”
“That’s preposterous,” Simon said. “Why would you take responsibility for that?”
Rosie looked at Glen. “I thought that’s what leaders are supposed to do?”
“That’s what you thought?” Simon actually rolled his eyes. “Well, put your offer to resign in that folder marked dumb ideas.”
“Um…” she glanced around the director’s desk like there might actually be a folder marked ‘Dumb Ideas’.
“I asked you both here to talk about the possibility of having Rosie’s hunters work with the vampire hunting division. It’s been suggested that they could be an enormous help. Of course, Jefferson Unit came to mind as the ideal test case. What do you think?”
Glen and Rosie were both silent. Glen reached for a mini éclair and popped it into his mouth. Rosie stirred her tea.
“The lack of enthusiasm is resounding,” Simon said drily.
Glen cleared his throat. Intellectually he was all for anything that would end the threat of vampire. After all, he’d spent his whole life in that pursuit. First training to be a vampire hunter. Then acting as administrator of an elite unit, which made the notion of cat herding seem like child’s play. But emotionally he was reluctant to see hundreds of years of history and tradition come to an end. He would never admit those private thoughts to anyone, but they were there. Under the surface.
“Of course, our goal is to end the vampire problem. That’s always been the goal of Black Swan. I suppose I’m hesitating because, the last time we thought Dr. Monq had solved the problem, it turned out that the cure made the problem worse.”
Simon nodded. “It’s completely understandable that you’re hesitant, given that history. We feel the same way, which is why we’re proposing going slow. Rosie, what do you have to add?”
“Well, as you know, some of my hunters are ex-vampire hunters who were coaxed out of retirement because of the assurance that vampire hunting wasn’t part of the gig. We can’t do a bait and switch.”
Simon turned the ghost of a smile toward Rosie. “Bait and switch. No. We can’t do that. How many does that leave?”
“If you’re asking how many hunters might be available for a test like that, I can’t answer that question without talking to them. Like I said, they signed on for one thing. If they’re willing to take on this other project, I’m willing to cooperate with the vampire hunting division. But it has to be voluntary.”
Simon sat back and folded his hands together over his chest. “You’ve formed an attachment to the Wild Bunch.” Rosie could see that Simon was evaluating her answer, looking for clues in expression, tone, and body language so that he could get the best read on her that was possible for a non-psychic.
“I don’t know if attachment is the right word. I feel responsible for them. I am responsible for them.”
“That’s good news,” Simon said. “And proves I picked the right person for the job.” He sat up and swiveled a quarter turn.
“It’s not their fault, you know,” Rosie blurted out. “It’s hard enough to wake up alien without having Black Swan running ‘doomsday scenarios’. You should be supporting them. Trying to help them adjust to their new way of… being.”
Simon listened quietly. When he was sure Rosie was finished, he said, “I regret giving the impression that we mean your hunters harm, Elora Rose. Of course we’re sympathetic to the fact that they’re victims of a scientific experiment gone wrong. And we intend to support their successful transition in every way possible.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” she said.
Simon went on. “Of course we’d be deaf, dumb, and blind if we hadn’t considered some of the implications and ramifications.”
“Such as?” Rosie pressed.
“Black Swan now employs a team of sixteen demons, in addition to yourself, if you include yourself in that. It’s Loti Dimension’s own paranormal police force that we would never have dared to imagine. That’s the enormous benefit for us. So far as the hunters go, we all hope that they will come to see this alteration as providential, because it goes without saying, there are a lot of advantages to being demon. There is a potential win win here.”
After a brief pause, Rosie nodded slowly. “Okay. I see that.”
“In your estimation, how are the hunters handling the change?”
“Psychologically?”
“Yes.”
“Honestly? I’ve been surprised by their reactions. I’d sort of expected to see more emotional turmoil, but if anybody is having a problem they’re covering really well. They’re giving the appearance of being fine with it. Even, as you said, focusing on the benefits.”
“Maybe the change in their physiology assisted their outlook?”
“Maybe. I will be keeping an eye out for depression. Or whatever.” She looked over at Glen, who’d been extraordinarily quiet. “But I won’t be sending them to Monq for counseling. He’s got a conflict of interest.”
Simon nodded. “He does. You’re right. If anybody needs counseling, they can come here and see Dr. Tincture.”
“Okay.”
“So what about the joint vampire hunting initiative?”
“Now it’s an initiative? I thought you were proposing a test.”
“Yes. A test that, if successful, will become an initiative. Can I expect cooperation between your divisions?”
“If Glen wants to do this, I’ll talk to my hunters. Oh, by the way, I had everybody move to Hunter Abbey. There’s no point in maintaining separate residences because they can commute to work really, um, fast.”
Simon barked out a laugh. “Commute. Funny. Well, thank you for minding the company purse. We’ll get rid of the properties since they’re no longer needed.” He looked at Rosie. “So. They’re all living at your Abbey?”
“My Abbey?” Her eyes widened.
“You know what I mean,” Simon said.
“Yeah. Headquarters is also home, but I told them they’re welcome to have as many private homes as they want and can afford, um, anywhere they want.”
“And by anywhere, you mean…”
“Loti or elsewhere.”
Simon frowned. “You encouraged the Wild Bunch to acquire off world residences?”
“I didn’t encourage anything. I gave them that option. Like you said, there are advantages to being demon. Pointing out those advantages may be what’s helping to get them past the shock of transforming into a completely different species.”
“Hope you know what you’re doing.”
“Me, too.”
“Glen,” Simon said, “are you in for a test of demon vampire hunters?”
Glen shrugged, but didn’t look happy. “Sure. I guess.”
“Am I hearing reservations?”
“Well,” Glen paused, wanting to be sure he was careful with his words, “you’re worried about the psychological effect of all this on Rosie’s hunters. I’m concerned about the psychological effect on my hunters. Their skills are unparalleled when compared to other people, but not when compared to demons. If they take a demon on patrol, and it appears they’re no longer needed by Black Swan, how will they react to that? Because I suspect the reaction will be first depression, then trying to decide what else to do with their lives.
“The first test is pretty much a step off that cliff because the hunters talk to each other. Within a couple of hours all the hunters everywhere on Earth are going to know. Are we ready to give up centuries’ worth of effort that’s gone into the current crop of vampire hunters?
“And I can’t help but be reminded of the last time we were sure we didn’t need vampire hunters anymore. We dismantled way too fast and were caught unprepared when the new mutation surged. We didn’t foresee that. Couldn’t have foreseen that. What el
se is out there that we don’t foresee?”
Simon had listened intently. He had enormous respect for Glen, though he was decades younger, and had often thought that if he was forced to name a replacement, Glen’s was the only name that would come to mind.
“Well said, Sovereign,” Simon began. “What do you recommend?”
“I hate to be the guy who presents problems with no solution. But there it is. Honestly, you want to know what I think will happen?”
“I do,” said Simon.
“I think my hunters will ask for the serum the Wild Bunch took.”
Simon sucked a full breath in through his nostrils. “That’s not something we’re prepared to do.”
“You know, that was my first reaction when Monq raised the possibility. I said the same thing to him only, perhaps, with less civility.
“But since then I’ve had time to really think it over. I was reacting in anger to the fact that we made victims of our own people by not giving them a choice in the matter. There’s a big difference between having an irrevocable condition foisted upon you and volunteering after being presented all the information. Think about giving my hunters that choice. They’re more than capable of weighing the pros and cons and deciding for themselves.”
Simon opened his mouth to speak, but Glen interrupted. “Before you order a test or get further into initiative planning, I’m asking you to really consider this. We could rid Loti Dimension of both outside agitators and vampire. Isn’t that what we’re supposed to be about? I’m having a hard time understanding why we wouldn’t want to use the tools at our disposal. It would be like having stakes in reserve, but telling my people they have to go hunting without them.”
Glen saw that something in that last spoken sentence caused a moment of indecision to flicker in Simon’s eyes.
“So you’re saying we’d shut down the vampire hunter program because another generation of hunters would never be needed. That these hunters would have the satisfaction of ridding us of vampire once and for all and would be made demon as a, what, reward?”
Glen nodded. “They might look at it that way. We won’t know unless we ask.”
Irish War Cry (Order of the Black Swan D.I.T. Book 3) Page 9
