“I’m pretty sure those chips aren’t supposed to leave the casino,” he told his companion, studying the open case with its hundred-odd black-and-gold chips. “Want to bet they’re tagged and an alarm of some kind will go off if we walk through the front door?”
“Mmm. Sixty-forty,” Kate replied. “I don’t see a reason to take a chance, though. My purse is an extradimensional space, similar to your scabbard. I figure we stick the chips in there, it will block any signal, and we walk right out of here without even a blip to make anyone suspicious.”
“The Oracle will need to get them back in here,” David pointed out, then shrugged. “Somehow, I don’t think they’ll have a problem.”
“No,” she agreed. “I’ve never seen a construct with as much fidelity as the one they sent. I don’t know what the Oracle is, but I have no desire to screw with them nor any inclination to assume they can’t do whatever they need to.”
“Agreed,” David said. “I have my suspicions, but the likelihood is that I’m completely wrong.”
Kate laughed.
“Yeah, that’s pretty normal if you want to make guesses in this job,” she agreed. “Anything else we need?”
“Guns, ten million dollars, cellphones; check on all three,” he told her with a grin. “I think we’re good.”
“All right.” She leaned in for a lingering kiss, then broke free to grab the hotel phone. “I’ll have the hotel get us a cab. Where were we meeting the Oracle?”
“I picked a five-star restaurant off-Strip, basically at random,” he admitted. “I figured no one was going to blink at us celebrating our big win.”
“Makes sense,” Kate agreed, then glanced back at the still-open chip case. “What are we doing with the last half-million?”
“Cashing it out and disclosing it to Omicron,” he replied. “I figure they’ll make me surrender it, but hey, they might let me keep it!”
And since he lived in an Omicron-provided apartment and earned a generous salary, it wasn’t like he needed the money.
WHEN THEIR TAXI arrived at the restaurant, a pair of elegantly dressed young women immediately walked over to greet them. They were a matched set of curvy brunettes, clearly not twins but dressed identically in short and tight black dresses and holding hands.
“Mr. White, Ms. Mason,” the taller one greeted them. “We speak for the Oracle. We made a reservation for the four of us.”
David wasn’t surprised to realize that both women were constructs. He was wondering if the Oracle actually had a physical body as humans understood it, or if it could only interact with the world through constructs. It was equally likely, though, that the Oracle simply chose to hide behind the constructs as a form of security.
“What should we call you?” Kate asked as they followed the constructs into the restaurant.
The shorter one of the pair smiled back over her shoulder.
“She is Amber. I am Beverly,” she told them. “We’re known here.”
The front host looked up with a smile as she was speaking.
“Ah, Mrs. and Mrs. Tahoe. I thought I spotted your lovely names on the reservation list. I’ve set aside your usual private space.”
“Thank you, George,” Amber replied. “Have a bottle of wine brought to our table, please. The house Grigio; you know the one.”
“I do indeed, Mrs. Tahoe,” George replied. “This way, please.”
The host led them to the back of the restaurant, to a small table tucked away in an elevated corner with a decorative lattice screening them from the rest of the room. It was more private than David had been expecting—and a waitress was already waiting with the bottle of wine the construct had suggested.
She poured four glasses, then retreated.
“The wine is excellent,” Beverly told them. “Try it.”
“Not to be rude,” David said delicately, “but can you even taste it?”
The construct laughed, a silvery giggle that would probably have had unfortunate effects on him if that portion of his lizard brain wasn’t thoroughly overloaded today.
“You and Ms. Mason both have the Sight, to different degrees,” she confirmed. “We are…recurring constructs, with sustained memories and intellects. Extensions of the Oracle, we both remember our own experiences—such as the wine—and pass on all that we see, taste, and sense to it.”
“So, Amber and Beverly Tahoe?”
“Exist, have driver’s licenses, own property, and pay taxes,” Amber told him. “Thanks to a confusing network of trust funds and numbered companies, it isn’t necessarily obvious that we only exist part of the time and don’t actually own a home.”
The pair grinned, a matching wicked smile.
“We even got married in California in 2008, before they passed Proposition 8,” Beverly noted. “The Oracle…is very unimpressed with humanity’s current attitude towards sex and marriage.”
That gave them two bits of information about the Oracle: one, that it wasn’t human; and two, that it had been around for a long time.
“We recommend the steak,” Amber told them. “The wait staff here is discreet, but we’re best off waiting until our food has arrived to discuss business.”
“I picked this restaurant at random,” David said. “How did we end up at one that you are known at?”
“Had you picked a different restaurant, depending on the one, you might have met with different representatives,” Beverly explained. “Anywhere on the Strip, it would have been us, but each of the representatives has cultivated different areas of the city.”
“If you feel out of your depth, Mr. White, remember that we have been doing this for a long time, and are very, very careful,” Amber told him. “So long as you are with us, your safety is guaranteed.”
“We cannot, of course, speak for your safety after this meeting,” Beverly warned. “For now, however, the waitress will be back in a couple of minutes. I suggest you consult the menu.”
DAVID FOLLOWED THE CONSTRUCTS’ suggestion and ordered the steak, as did Kate. The conversation stayed noncommittal until the steaks arrived, the Oracle’s representatives teasing out the two ONSET agents’ opinions of Vegas.
Once the food arrived, the waitress dropped off a second bottle of wine, making sure everyone’s glass was full before she disappeared.
A curtain that David hadn’t noticed before swung shut behind her, closing off the corner table from the rest of the restaurant. From the smiles on the two constructs’ faces, they’d been expecting this.
For all that Amber and Beverly were manufactured entities, beings created of energy and someone else’s will, they were charming, witty young women who clearly had distinct personalities from each other and, presumably, the Oracle itself.
It was a strange sensation, interacting with them, and the pair clearly understood exactly how David and Kate were feeling.
“Now, you should have a certain amount of money for us,” Amber told them.
“We heard you had an extraordinary day at the Black Lounge,” Beverly added. “Well covered-for, too. Well done.”
“Thank you,” David said somewhat awkwardly, gesturing for Kate to produce the chips.
The other Commander carefully counted out one hundred of the black-and-gold chips, sliding them across the table past her plate in stacks of ten. Beverly took each stack, running her hand over them like some kind of scanner, and nodded with each stack.
“One hundred Black Lounge gold chips,” she confirmed, sliding the tokens into her cleavage. Presumably, they were either teleporting elsewhere or entering an extradimensional pocket like Kate’s purse, as they certainly weren’t staying inside her shirt. “Value, one hundred thousand dollars apiece, totaling ten million dollars.
“Exactly as agreed.”
“And we were promised information,” David reminded them.
“Yes,” Amber agreed. “Everything we know on the Arbiter.” She reached into her own cleavage and produced a black metal USB stick and slid it across th
e table. David took it, eyeing the data storage device carefully.
“Everything we know is on here, but I’ll give you the summary,” she concluded.
“The vampire you call the Arbiter was born as Anaxis in the city state of Athens,” she began. “We’re not sure exactly when; our methods get less reliable looking that far into the past. We do know that Anaxis commanded a hoplite formation under Aléxandros ho Mégas—who history recalls as Alexander the Great.
“Anaxis followed Aléxandros to war in Persia. At some point during those battles, Anaxis was turned and became a vampire,” she explained. “Assuming he was in his twenties when he went to war, he is somewhere in the region of twenty-three hundred and seventy years old, one of the oldest vampires alive.”
David inhaled sharply. He’d fought the previous ruler of the Vampire Familias, Marcus Dresden, a powerful and deadly opponent at a “mere” five centuries old.
“I thought Marcus Dresden was the oldest vampire in America,” he pointed out.
“Marcus Dresden was the oldest politically active vampire in America,” Beverly corrected him. “Vampires like the Arbiter have forsworn power to avoid the conflicts of their younger kin. He was never a member of the Vampire Familias here; he always stood separate from them.”
“He came from France,” Amber explained. “We’re not certain at what point he became a Keeper, but he was the guardian of the Crèche in Paris when the Revolution began there. His associations made him vulnerable and he saw the Reign of Terror coming. He fled to America.
“Without his protection, however, the Parisian Crèche was destroyed.”
David held up a hand to slow the spiel.
“Am I allowed to ask for explanations of phrases I don’t understand?” he said carefully. Given that their one question had cost them ten million dollars, he wasn’t sure just what was included in his answer.
“Yes,” Beverly confirmed. “Detailed explanations of most of this is on the USB stick, but I am guessing you are questioning the Keepers and the Crèche?”
“Exactly,” he admitted.
“You know, Mr. White, that a vampire is basically feral once first turned,” Beverly noted. “A fledgling is extraordinarily dangerous and retains most of their intelligence but has no real concept of self or society, only of their own hunger.
“Have you ever wondered how the Familias deal with such an issue?”
“Yes, but I’ve never found an answer beyond four trucks of fledglings with an unknown destination,” David replied.
“The answer is the Crèches,” Amber said, taking over from Beverly in perfect turn. “With centuries of practice behind them, they have learned how best to contain and calm their children. If everything is done right, they can bring a fledgling back to themselves, with most of their pre-vampire memories intact, in about a year.
“If they screw it up, it can take two to three years and they remember nothing. The ancient vampires literally loosed their fledglings into the wilderness and watched for them to return when they were ‘awake’ again.”
David nodded his understanding. That, if nothing else, explained where the four trucks of freshly turned vampires had been going.
“And the Arbiter runs one of these crèches?” he asked.
“The Arbiter is a Keeper,” Beverly told him. “One of the vampires responsible for maintaining the crèches. They learned early on that having the scent of human blood aggravated the fledglings, easily costing them days or weeks of progress, so the Keepers had to swear off it.
“This transformed into foreswearing violence entirely by about the twelfth century. They regarded the oath as allowing them to defend their charges, but no more.”
“You mean to tell me there’s an entire group of vampires that don’t touch human blood and are sworn to pacifism?” Kate asked. “I find that hard to believe.”
“Mr. White met the Arbiter, one of the most powerful vampires alive, and breathes still,” Amber replied. “He will not make himself your enemy, but he will destroy you if you make yourselves his.”
David shivered, remembering the old vampire’s gaze.
“So, he stands aside from politics and the Familias?” he said, trying to bring them back onto topic. “If he was a Keeper when he came to America, he has always stood aside here?”
“Exactly,” Beverly agreed. “He arrived here and joined the one Crèche in North America, but then learned of the fate of the Parisian Crèche.
“Seven Keepers and fourteen fledglings died because he wasn’t there to protect them,” she continued. “The Seal was far stronger then than now, and those fourteen fledglings represented every vampire ‘born’ in Europe for two years—and an unusually fruitful two years, at that. The Crèche normally had a Keeper per fledgling.”
“He arrived in America as Adam Waters and then learned of his failure,” Amber took over. “He then bought a rural property far from anywhere, abandoned the New York Crèche, and went into a self-imposed exile for fifty years.
“The Familias sought him out in the late nineteenth century after the Familias Morgan attacked and burnt out the New York Crèche during the Civil War.
“Dresden had destroyed Morgan and his Familias, but he feared that maintaining the Crèche under his control risked the very problem that had caused the destruction of the New York Crèche. He asked Anaxis to take over the remaining Keepers and establish a completely neutral Crèche, truly outside Familias politics.”
“He took the title Arbiter at that time,” Beverly concluded, “and rejoined American vampire society as the ultimate babysitter. He knew raising fledglings better than any of the Keepers they had left, and none of the patriarchs intimidated him at all.
“He turned his ranch into a Crèche initially and has relocated it several times since, especially as the number of fledglings has dramatically increased in recent decades,” she said. “He now runs it out of an underground facility that used to be a nuclear missile silo. He bought it at auction and has been expanding the underground tunnels since.”
“The Mountain, as it is now called, is operating at a seven-to-one ratio of fledglings to Keepers,” Amber noted. “Only the Arbiter’s near-millennium of experience allows them to handle the influx.”
“Where is this Mountain?” David asked.
“The details are on the chip,” Beverly told him. “The facility has limited defenses beyond the Arbiter and his Keepers, but every Familias in North America will fight for it.”
“Thank you,” he told the two women. “And thank the Oracle for me.”
“All we have seen, the Oracle has seen,” Amber replied. “You have thanked the Oracle. The money serves that purpose as well.” She inclined her head. “We have already arranged payment for the meal.”
“Then I believe our business is done,” David told her. He’d barely even registered the steak he’d eaten as the two constructs had detailed the life story of the man he was probably going to have to kill. Destroying the Mountain would undermine the vampires in the United States, possibly finally giving Omicron the edge to end the war.
“It is, but we have a final warning for you,” Beverly said. “Your enemies are aware of your presence in Las Vegas and they believe you are vulnerable here. The noose tightens around you, Mr. White, Ms. Mason. You should leave the city of sin sooner rather than later—or you may never leave.”
16
When the Tahoe Oracle gave a free warning, it turned out that one should listen. Immediately.
The restaurant was far enough from their Strip hotel that David and Kate let themselves relax on the taxi ride. They didn’t relax quite so far as to start making out in the back seat, but the silent glances Kate was sending him left David quite certain what the plans for back in their room were.
He was distracted enough that he didn’t realize the taxi was going the wrong way until his threat sense started tingling and he shook his head, focusing outside the vehicle and realizing they were a long way from the glitz and glamour of
the Strip.
They were somewhere in an unfamiliar, industrial-looking district, well away from what the tourists were supposed to see, and surrounded by a seemingly infinite array of low-slung gray warehouses.
“Hey, driver,” David called forward. “This isn’t where we asked to go, what’s going on?”
Even as he spoke, one hand slipped inside his coat and removed the clip on his gun.
“It’s a shortcut,” the man said crisply. “Saves us both time and you money, trust me!”
“Son, we’ve already been driving longer than it took to get to the restaurant,” David pointed out. “What the fuck is going on?”
“It’s Vegas, sir; you can’t just take the same route back without going into one-way traffic,” the driver replied. “Trust me!”
“I don’t,” David said flatly. “Pull the car over.”
“What?”
“Pull the car over and let us out,” he told the driver. He was more confident with just him and Kate in the middle of the worst of neighborhoods than he was in the back seat of a car he didn’t know the destination of.
“I can’t do that, sir,” the driver told him.
David drew his gun. He didn’t point it at the man, but he held it where it was clearly visible in the mirror.
“I am a Federal agent,” he said calmly. “If you don’t stop this car right now, there is going to be hell to pay.”
His prescience flared and he twisted his body to balance as the driver slammed on the brakes, twisting the car into a wide turn more fitting a street racer than a taxi car, trying to throw David off as he threw the vehicle into a darkened building. He heard Kate slam against the side of the car, but he focused on the driver.
He swung the pistol up to aim at the man, only for the taxi to come to a crushing halt that crushed him into his seatbelt even as he braced himself.
“See? Stopped!” the driver announced—and then the windshield shattered and the man’s head exploded, the sniper bullet smashing past David into the backseat of the taxi.
ONSET: Blood of the Innocent Page 11
