Knights of Black Swan, Books 7-9 (Knights of Black Swan Box Set Book 3)

by Victoria Danann

  “I’m Ragnal.”

  “Just Ragnal?”

  “Yes.”

  “It seems you already know my name.”

  Ragnal gave a slight nod. “What I don’t know is why you’ve been causing such a ruckus.”

  “I need to get out of here.”

  “I see. And where do you want to go?”

  “Back.”

  “Back?”

  “Yes. You know. Back to where I was before I was here.”

  “Oh.” Ragnal paused before adding, “I see.”

  The bartender walked to the end of the bar and disappeared around the corner as he slung a damp towel over his shoulder. Sol thought that was a nice realistic touch. The guy must have gone to the Elia Kazan school of acting.

  Ragnal grasped the long neck that sat in front of him. It was covered with the telltale condensation caused when glass-bottled beer is chilled in ice. “So this is your favorite, huh?” He took a sip and pursed his lips. “Hmmm. Not bad.”

  Sol looked at his own beer. He liked the way it looked sitting in front of him, but he just didn’t have a desire to reach for it. “So. About going back?”

  “Ah, yes. About that.” Ragnal looked into Sol’s face. “Just out of curiosity, can you tell me what you were doing at the moment of your death?”

  That question shouldn’t have come as a shock to Sol. He’d put it together shortly after arrival… that he must have died. But still, having someone just say it out loud like that made him feel funny. Inconsequential somehow. He heaved a big sigh even though he’d also discovered shortly after arriving that inhaling and exhaling were purely optional.

  “So I really am, uh, dead.”

  “Let’s not play games, Solomon. You know you’ve moved on to another phase in the process.”

  “Sol.”

  “What?”

  “If you’re going to call me by my first name, call me Sol.”

  “All right. Sol. What were you thinking at the very last?”

  Sol looked down at the bar, looked at the beer, then looked at his hands. “I was thinking that I couldn’t check out because too much depended on me. I was thinking that, if it turned out there was an after-existence that was supposed to make me happy, I would have to convince somebody that the only thing that would make me happy is being returned to duty where I belong.”

  When he turned back, Ragnal searched his eyes like he was looking for something in particular. “And what sort of ‘duty’ is it that’s so important?”

  Sol drew up short, realizing for the first time that he would have to discuss Black Swan business with an outsider. That presented a dilemma. He couldn’t get out of there without breaking his vow of secrecy.

  “This is a pickle. I took a vow of secrecy.”

  “So you need me to pledge confidence?” Sol nodded. “Very well. You have my word that I will not divulge what you tell me without first gaining your permission to do so.”

  It wasn’t perfect, but Sol decided he had no choice but to accept it and be satisfied.

  “We were in the middle of a vampire crisis. We thought we’d found a cure, but it didn’t work out and, if anything, we made it worse. I was instrumental in the correction. A world of people, some who know about the impending danger and some who don’t, were depending on me. So I have to get back.”

  Ragnal’s expression gave away nothing except that Sol thought there might have been a flicker of recognition when he’d said the word vampire. But by the time he’d finished speaking, Sol could see that Ragnal looked confused.

  “I’m not understanding. There’s a problem relating to vampire?”

  Sol’s shoulder sagged. “Yes. There’s a problem relating to vampire and you just made me the king of understatement.” Ragnal scowled. “So you know about vampire?”

  “I know a little about them. I didn’t know they were posing a problem.”

  Thinking about Animal House, Sol realized that Ragnal might be aware of the variety of vampire that are relatively harmless, the kind that, like mosquitoes, just take their blood and go without causing more than a minor irritation.

  “Vampire have been a plague on our world for at least thirty generations and perhaps forever. A bacterial virus turns humans into monsters who are serial killers of women and contagion to men, infecting them with the disease.

  “We learned recently that there is something particular to the environment in our world that caused an adverse, viral, reaction.”

  Sol stopped to make sure that Ragnal was following.

  “Go on.”

  “I work for a very, very old organization that was founded for the purpose of keeping humans safe. If it wasn’t for the effort we’ve made to contain the epidemic, it would have grown exponentially and rendered humans extinct a long time ago.”

  Ragnal stared at Sol as he took another drink of beer. “And why do you believe you are indispensable to this… cause?”

  “You think it’s ego. It’s not ego. It’s like there’s a tsunami on the way. We need all hands on deck. It’s not so much that I’m indispensable as it is that I’m useful. I’ve been doing this work most of my life and I’m responsible… was responsible… for a contingent of people who are most qualified to combat what’s coming.

  “Sure. Somebody could eventually take my place, but I’m ready to hit the ground running now. And that’s what they’re going to need to survive.”

  After a second Ragnal gave Sol a smile that looked a little like a smirk. “You think you should be in charge. I get it.” Ragnal stood up. “Let me see what I can work out.” He looked around the bar. “Where would you like to wait for your answer?”

  “You got a library?”

  “That can be arranged.”

  Sol found himself standing in front of a Greco-Roman building at the bottom of steps, flanked by two huge lion statues, leading upward to a bank of doors that appeared to be glass framed in gold. The building was the only structure in a countryside that was unaltered by road or building.

  As he began to climb the steps, he told himself that he would be grateful for small favors if he opened the doors to find no birds, wind chimes, flute music, or sheep inside.

  Ragnal found Heralda cooing at some sort of cat-sized reptiles in a large terrarium. She looked up as he was approaching.

  “All taken care of?”

  “No. Turns out it’s not my problem,” Ragnal said. “It’s your mess and you’re the one who needs to clean it up.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “One word. Vampire.”

  “Cut the cryptic games and say what you mean to say before I lose patience with you twice in one day.”

  “Your vampire’s saliva interacted badly with the unique organic composition of the subject’s little world. Turned homo sapiens into cannibals intent on wiping out their own species.”

  Heralda paled visibly as she thought about the possibility of giving Pierce cause to extend their Earth sentence. Extensions can be a real bitch when time is infinite. The vampire project was supposed to be for extra credit. How ironic was that!

  “You’re sure?”

  “That’s what he says. Why would he lie?”

  Heralda turned to the elementals standing by the inner doors. “Get me Kellareal!”

  CHAPTER 6

  Overseer Dimension

  Heralda was a vision sitting in her white and gold room with her hip-length black hair moving in slow motion around her body. It was lifted by an invisible force so that it appeared to be floating. She was wearing a blood-red dress that matched her blood-red mouth and was tapping her blood-red fingernails on the massive arm of her rococo chair. That’s how Kellareal found her, lost in thought, when he entered the room.

  She looked up. “Why am I just now hearing about this?” Her tone was accusatory, but Kellareal wasn’t easily made to feel defensive.

  “The vampire in Loti Dimension?”

  “YES! THE VAMPIRE IN LOTI DIMENSION!”

  His
throat moved as he tried to swallow his frustration and not yell his response at equal volume. “I’ve attempted to bring the situation to your attention many times. Perhaps you were distracted?”

  She glared at Kellareal for an uncomfortable minute as if it was his fault that she hadn’t been paying attention. “All right. Whatever. I’m listening now.”

  Kellareal explained the history, confirming that the vampire virus had first appeared around two thousand years ago and, as Solomon Nememiah had said, would have rendered the human population of Loti extinct if the secret society of vampire hunters had not intervened.

  Heralda rose from her chair and began pacing. “Who sponsors this Black Swan thing?”

  “They’ve been operating independently.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “No sponsor?”

  He shook his head and angel dust fell freely around him like platinum glitter. “None.”

  Heralda pursed her beautiful lips while she continued to pace.

  Huber entered uninvited, didn’t bother to cast Kellareal a glance, and plopped down on Heralda’s very grand, temporarily vacated chair. “If you don’t stop doing that thing with your mouth, you’ll end up with smoking wrinkles.”

  “Hmmm?” She hadn’t been paying attention. “Huber, I don’t have time for your silliness right now.”

  He slunk off to his play corner, sat down at his table, and began making motor lips noises.

  “Not having a sponsor might make it easier to correct this situation. No objection. No interference. No blowback.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Kellareal agreed.

  She looked at Kellareal. Really looked at him for, perhaps, the first time in centuries. “I’ll probably need your help.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Huber. Stop that and come here!”

  Huber looked up from what he was doing, which appeared to be stirring the beginnings of a tropical storm in the Gulf of Mexico. He dropped his hand like he’d been caught doing something naughty and shuffled over to stand at the foot of Heralda’s dais.

  “Go talk to this mortal mischief-maker. Find out if he’s the sort who could keep his mouth shut if we give him what he wants.”

  Huber stood up ramrod straight, gave an exaggerated mock salute, and attempted to click his heels together. It looked a little ridiculous in his everyday costume of white toga and biker boots. The boots more thumped together than clicked.

  Heralda rolled her eyes. “Hurry up.”

  “Why is it again that you don’t ever run your own errands?” She turned a glare on him that included bared, clenched teeth. “Okay! I’m going!” he whined as the doors flew open to let him pass.

  Sol had spent a long time in the library. At first he’d found it amusing to walk around shouting, “Hello,” and then listen to the echo. But as much as he thought of himself as the antithesis of a people person, the solitude grew tedious after a stretch of time and he was ready to break up the boredom, even if the only way to do that was to listen to birds pretend to be birds.

  He was lying on his back on his grassy knoll watching the shimmer of aspen-like leaves in the trees above him, remembering the silky feel of Farnsworth’s hair and the way her eyes would get so bright when he kissed her the way a woman like her should be kissed – thoroughly. He wondered about how she’d felt when he’d left his body behind, if she’d taken it really hard. If she was doing all right. If she was still wearing his ring.

  He didn’t hear anyone approach and jumped a little when someone nearby cleared his throat. Sol raised his head and looked in the direction of the sound.

  There was a curious character standing about eight feet away wearing a goofy expression, a toga, biker boots, and a ridiculous laurel wreath on his head. Sol wouldn’t be mean enough to say the little guy was misshapen, but it did cross his mind that a few pushups and laps around the pasture could only do the figure good.

  Sol remained in a semi-reclining position, but propped himself up on his elbows. “I was here first,” he deadpanned.

  Huber giggled. “I know.”

  “Well? What do you want?”

  “I’ve been sent to ask a couple of questions.”

  “Did you bring snacks?”

  Huber giggled again. “You want snacks?”

  “No. Just thought I’d ask.”

  “Oh.”

  “You want to sit down?”

  “Okay.”

  Sol watched, fascinated, while Huber crossed his legs meditation-style in midair before floating down and hovering just inches above the grass.

  “Neat trick.”

  Huber looked momentarily confused, as if he hadn’t thought about the fact that everyone couldn’t defy gravity at will. His brow cleared when he realized what Sol meant. “Oh, yes. I have others.”

  “I’ll bet. How about raising the dead?”

  Huber waved his hand and said, “Sometimes,” offhandedly. “And speaking of that…”

  Huber stopped midsentence, seemingly preoccupied by other things.

  “Speaking of that…” Sol prompted.

  Huber’s unfocused eyes cleared and he brought his attention back to Sol as he reached up to straighten his laurel wreath, which hadn’t moved at all. “Let’s play a game of ‘What if?’”

  “Okay. What if I don’t want to play?”

  Huber pouted a little. “No fair. I get to ask the questions.”

  Sol made a little twirling gesture with his hand to indicate, “Go ahead.”

  “What if we sent you back?” That got Sol’s attention. He sat up. “You know we couldn’t send you back to your old body because it’s, you know, gone.”

  “Gone?” Intellectually Sol knew that made sense, but emotionally it felt like the bottom dropped out of the elevator. “Oh. I… guess that’s right.”

  “If we sent you back, we’d have to put you in a new body.” Sol’s mind was racing trying to figure out how to make that work. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. For now, all I want to know is if you think you could keep a highly unusual secret.”

  “Look. I work for a highly unusual secret organization in top level management. I’m not bragging. That’s just how it is. Now. My turn. How am I supposed to get back inside in a different body without telling them who I am?”

  Huber looked down and frowned. “That is a puzzle. Set that aside for the time being. Assume we could get around that part and get you inside this ‘highly secret organization’…”

  “Are you mocking me?”

  Huber looked sheepish. “Just a little. Are you sensitive? You don’t look sensitive.” Sol glared at him. “So? Can you keep a secret?”

  “Yes.”

  “Very well. Good boy.” Huber started to leave. “Um. As you were.” He vanished.

  While Huber was gone, Heralda called the other available Council members together. She would have rather had lashes than admit to her six peers that there’d been an unfortunate and undesirable side effect to her prize creation, the vampire. But she knew it was useless to try and hide the mistake now that Ragnal knew about it. The only thing stopping him from broadcasting the news throughout the multiverse was that they were in the project together. If one made a mess, so far as Overseer Pierce was concerned, the mess belonged to the whole group.

  The only logical play for her was to get out in front of the story and confess the error in a contrite show of character and humility.

  So she called a meeting and did exactly that. The others seemed to take it well. Heralda interpreted that to mean that they had their own little missteps they’d just as soon keep under wraps.

  “Send him back in a new body?” It was technically a question, but not one that Theasophie expected to be answered. “That’s risky business. If it gets out, it will create an explosion of religious fads. Every human will want a new young body when the old one ages out.”

  “Like hitting a reset button,” Ming added.

  The doors opened and Huber floated in.

  “Well, Huber. What
do you think? Does the human strike you as someone who could keep that sort of secret?”

  “He’s a grouchy sort, but he’s all about the duty and the honor, blah blah blah blah blah blah.”

  “If we agree to helping you out of this bind,” Ming said, “you’ll owe us.”

  “Oh here we go.” Heralda suspected the negotiation was coming.

  CHAPTER 7

  Rio de Janeiro

  Rev Farthing walked with as much stealth as possible on the old and unevenly worn brick alleyway in the old Colonial part of the city. His team had just split into pairs to try and head off a couple of vampire pulling at a young girl who, judging by her dress, was part of the Samba School Parade.

  If being a vampire hunter wasn’t already a nightmare, try adding Carnival week to the mix. Anything within blocks of the Sambadrome was an all-you-can-eat vamp buffet and the crowds of dancers, tourists, and revelers were too thick to do anything about it. They unwittingly provided both bountiful feast and perfect cover for vampire for one week every year.

  Every night when he went out on patrol he told himself the same story. That if he died that night, it wouldn’t be a tragedy because he’d lived a lot in his thirty-one years. He’d seen a lot more of what the world had to offer, good and bad, than most. He’d also given the past sixteen years to the service of humanity through an outfit called The Order of the Black Swan.

  He’d spent his childhood in England, but his father had been appointed British ambassador to Portugal when he was ten. By the time he was recruited by Black Swan, he spoke perfect Portuguese, which was why he was sent back to Brazil after he was inducted into knighthood.

  There was no one to grieve for him. His parents and older brother had been killed in a sailing accident off the Spanish coast near Barcelona and there was no other family that would recognize him as an adult without being told who he was. No wife. No steady girlfriend. Not many regrets. Like the Native Americans supposedly said, it was a good day to die. That was what he told himself every night when he went out to hunt.