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

by Victoria Danann

  “Well…”

  “I am! An experiment!”

  Jean Etienne looked at Monq. “Well…”

  “What’s the goal of the experiment?”

  Jean Etienne scowled. “I think perhaps the goal has changed?” He looked at Monq. “Because the result was unexpected.”

  “Unexpected in what way?” Jean Etienne hesitated. “TELL ME!”

  “There were four of you when the experiment began. The other three had to be…” he glanced at Monq again, “euthanized.”

  “Euthanized?” She looked even more horrified.

  Jean Etienne sat down at the other end of the cot. “This is a shock for you. Yes?”

  In English, she said, “You think?” She then reverted to French. “What is the goal of this experiment now?”

  Jean Etienne looked at her. “The goal is to keep you alive.”

  “So that I can stay in here for the rest of my life and be a lab rat? No thanks.”

  “What do you mean. ‘no thanks’?”

  “I mean no. I do not accept this option. Just ‘euthanize’ me now.”

  “I’m certain those are not the only two options.”

  “Really? What’s the third?”

  Jean Etienne looked at Monq, who had no answer for that. “We’ll figure something out.”

  Genevieve scooted to the rear of the cot so that she was sitting with her back to the wall. “Why were the others euthanized?” she asked quietly.

  “They were also given a small amount of my blood. We had hoped there might be properties that would create a curative effect.”

  “What happened?”

  “They were not able to tolerate it.”

  “But I did.”

  Jean Etienne nodded. “Yes. So far.”

  “And why do you think that is?”

  “I have no conclusive answer.”

  “Fine. Speculate.”

  “You know that human females rarely survive exposure to the vampire virus?”

  “I’d never thought much about it.”

  “It’s quite rare. I imagine that whatever enabled your system to integrate the virus and survive has also enabled you to benefit from this experiment.”

  “Benefit,” she repeated to no one in particular. She looked out toward the hallway beyond her glass partition. “Why is there a hospital bed in the hallway?”

  “The young hunter refused to leave. He was afraid you’d be harmed. He believes he’s looking after you. Protecting you. So they brought him a bed.”

  “Oh, gods,” she said for the second time and brought her knees up as if to shelter her body from more information.

  “I need to ask you a few questions.”

  “Go ahead,” she said quietly.

  “What are you feeling right now? Do you feel hot or cold?” She shook her head. “Hungry or thirsty?” She shook her head. “Do you need to relieve yourself?” She looked around the room and saw that there was no toilet facility with the possible exception of a drain in the middle of the floor. “I suppose it’s a good thing I don’t.”

  He nodded and continued. “Do you feel ill at ease?”

  She glared at him. “I’m a prisoner in an experiment that can’t end well for me. It means I’m either dead or worse. OF COURSE I’M ILL AT EASE.” He held up his hands. “Idiot,” she muttered.

  At that Jean Etienne had the thought that she had probably been a magnificent woman. He would have smiled except for the fact that he knew she’d think it sadistic, given the circumstances.

  “So what’s next?”

  “We wait.”

  “That’s it?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “So. You’re going to wait in here? With me?”

  “Would you rather I wait outside?”

  “I don’t care what you do.”

  “In that case I’ll wait in here.”

  “Whatever.”

  “All things considered, you are handling this very well. It can’t be easy to go shopping then wake up in a lab.”

  “Feeling sorry for me?”

  “Yes,” he said honestly.

  She sighed. “Well, stop it or I’ll start feeling sorry for myself.”

  “You don’t feel sorry for yourself?”

  “If I do, it’s none of your business.”

  “Are you sleepy?”

  “No. I’m not sleepy. Look. Let me make this easier for both of us. I don’t feel anything except sad. Physically I feel disturbingly good.”

  “Why do you say disturbingly?”

  “Because I’ve just found out that I’m a vampire. My days for feeling okay are over.”

  “Feeling good is a natural state of being for vampire. I mean real vampire, like myself.”

  “As opposed to the fake vampire that my employer is sworn to hunt down and kill?”

  “Yes. As opposed to that.”

  “Look. If you’re going to hang around, why don’t you think of something else to talk about? The least you could do is try to distract me.”

  “Yes. I could do that. I have movies on a… thing.”

  After a pause of a few seconds, Genevieve said in a tone of casual conversation, “So. You’re immortal?”

  Jean Etienne turned toward her and gave her a grin that was blinding in its beauty. “That has yet to be established. What we do know is that I’ve been around for longer than the oldest history you’ve studied. And I’m still here.”

  Falcon grabbed Monq by the shoulder of his lab coat. “He’s flirting with her!” he hissed. Whereas Falcon had always cherished Genevieve’s French accent and thought it was unbelievably sexy and adorable, he found the same accent supremely irritating on Jean Etienne.

  “It would… seem that way,” said Monq.

  Falcon narrowed his eyes. “And what’s the reason why I can’t talk to her now?”

  Monq gave Falcon’s hand holding a fistful of clothing a pointed look. “I know you care about her, but there are bigger things at stake. If you want to stay and observe, you can so long as you do not interfere in any way. Though I think it would be best for you to take a break. Go upstairs. Have dinner with your friends. Have a drink with your friends. Shoot some pool. Play video games. Do something besides sitting here in this hallway staring at the vampire. You can see that she’s not in danger. So there’s no reason for you to feel like you need to be here every second.”

  Falcon looked at Genevieve carrying on a conversation with Jean Etienne. “She’s not in danger? How do you know that?”

  Monq softened his tone and expression. “We may not have gotten the result we were hoping for. But it’s not all bad either. A few hours ago she was lost, with no hope of ever being Mademoiselle Bonheur again. Now she is carrying on a conversation as easily as if she was hosting a dinner party. Well, except for the anxiety over what’s going to happen next.”

  Falcon stared at Monq for a few beats before saying, “Okay. At least tell me this. What are the markers you’re looking for that would give me yes for an answer?”

  “Regarding talking to the subject?”

  “Don’t call her that.”

  Monq pursed his lips. “Twenty-four hours without incident.”

  Falcon looked at his watch. “All right. I’m going to go to my place. Check email. Take a jacuzzi. Have dinner with my team. Then I’ll be back. You’d better not let Blood Pudding get out of line with her.”

  “Blood Pudding? Oh. I get it. Very funny. No. No one will be ‘getting out of line’ with her.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Day Four - Psych Eval

  “You called?” Elora knocked on the door to Monq’s office.

  “Yes, my dear. Come in and sit down. Oh my,” he said, looking at the impossibility of her protruding abdomen. “What can I get you?”

  “Hot chocolate.”

  “Of course. I knew that.”

  “Should have,” she said as she more or less fell backward into the burgundy velvet club chair. “I hope you have a forklift
down here because it might take that to get me back up.”

  Monq ordered cocoa for Elora, tea for himself, and put the house phone back in its cradle. “Don’t worry. We’ll think of something.” He sat down in the matching chair facing hers next to the fire video.

  “If this is about you wanting to deliver the babies, I already told you no five times and no means no, doc.”

  “It’s not about that. Although…”

  “No.”

  He sighed. “It’s about Glen. Have you seen him since he’s been back?”

  “I had to hear it from my husband. Strange he hasn’t called. We used to be close.”

  “That’s what I thought. And speaking of close, wasn’t he dating the Storm girl at one time?”

  “Yes.” She looked Monq over. “Not enough to do down here? You need some juicy gossip? ‘Cause there’s lots that’s juicier and more recent.”

  Before he’d thought about what was coming out of his mouth, he’d said, “Like what?” Elora parted her lips to answer, but he put his hand up to stop her. “Never mind. Stop confusing the issue.”

  “How can I be confusing the issue? I don’t know what the issue is.”

  “Glen.”

  “What about him?”

  “Just like you said. You don’t find it noteworthy that he didn’t let you know he’s back at Jefferson Unit?”

  Elora grew serious and sat up as straight as twins pressing into thighs would allow. “Is something wrong with Glen?”

  “Elora, this is not gossip. Juicy or otherwise.”

  “I understand. What’s wrong?”

  “He’s very different from the boy you knew and not in a good way. We need to get to the bottom of what’s happened. That’s why I’m asking about the Storm girl.”

  “Rosie.”

  “Yes. Rosie.”

  “You know she was named Elora Rose, after a grandmother and me.”

  “I might have heard that. I don’t remember. Anyway I’d like to have a conversation with her.”

  “What about? Listen, Monq, you’d better go easy on her. I don’t know all the details about what she’s been through, but she’s changed, too. She’s… I don’t know… sad. Or sadder.”

  “I’m a professional, Mrs. Hawking.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “That’s no way to get a favor. It’s Lady Laiken. Not Mrs. Hawking. And you know it!”

  Monq waved his hand dismissively as he always did when the subject of her name arose. “Could you arrange a meeting? Ask her to have breakfast with me tomorrow morning?”

  “I’ll ask, but I’m not going to pressure her.”

  “Of course not. Just tell her that her insights might be helpful.”

  “She’s out on the Courtpark throwing frisbee for my dog right now. Come help me up.”

  “Your cocoa isn’t here yet.”

  “Some other time. Help me out of this chair.”

  Monq walked to the door and called two assistants. “Help the lady out of the chair, would you please?”

  In the end, Elora pretty much got herself up. It seemed her weight was beyond the capacity of research assistants.

  She got off the elevator at the Hub and began to waddle toward the Solarium. She hadn’t seen Glen in over five years and he’d changed a lot physically, but she still knew that the man facing away, looking out onto the Courtpark through the Solarium windows was her former dogwalker. He was watching Rosie and Blackie out on the field. He felt Elora’s approach even before she came into his peripheral vision, but didn’t react visibly.

  “I remember when you used to be the one throwing frisbee for Blackie.”

  Glen simply sighed. He didn’t turn to face her, but glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “So. Got more on the way?”

  Elora’s hand automatically went to her protruding belly. “What makes you think that? Oh, this? Had a burrito for lunch. This is just gas.” Glen’s mouth turned up. “Ha! Got you to smile.” Her gaze wandered back to the field. “You should go say hello to Blackie. He’d love it.”

  Glen turned away. “Some other time. Good to see you, Lady Laiken.”

  “Same here, Sir Catch,” she said as he kept walking.

  Glen felt bad about giving Elora the brush off. She’d always been wonderful to him. She was the one who took him along to the Edinburgh unit where he’d had the time of his life discussing everything from dimensional ladder theory to the most effective way to move ghosts along on their journey. Not to mention fae girls.

  The problem was that he knew Elora well enough to know that, if he encouraged interaction, it would only be a short time before she’d start asking questions he didn’t want to answer. Or couldn’t answer. Questions like, what’s wrong with you?

  He’d changed and didn’t want the Lady Laiken, whom he had admired on so many levels, to know that it wasn’t for the better. Not that she didn’t already know that, given the way he was behaving.

  Rosie had changed, too. He could tell, even from a distance, that she moved differently. He wondered what she’d been doing for the past five years and hated himself for wondering. It was a moot point. Because he never intended to ask or to stand around listening while somebody told him.

  Monq made a point of checking on Genevieve and Jean Etienne every hour or so. He didn’t announce his arrival. Just observed and quietly eavesdropped on the conversation for a few minutes at a time.

  “So you never sleep?” She was asking.

  “Not for the past few hundred years. Young ones sleep. I don’t know why.”

  “You can procreate.”

  “Oh yes. Happily.”

  “So vampire childbirth isn’t painful?”

  He cocked his head. “I don’t know. I suppose it could be. I wasn’t thinking in those terms.”

  “Of course not. Like most men you were only thinking in terms of the pleasurable friction that precedes the procreation.”

  “Guilty.” Once again he gave her the smile that Monq hadn’t known Jean Etienne possessed.

  Monq had never seen the immortal vampire look anything other than pissed. Perpetually pissed in perpetuity. When he chuckled at that thought, Genevieve and Jean Etienne looked up. “How’s it going?”

  “All is well,” said Jean Etienne.

  “Need anything?”

  Jean Etienne looked at Genevieve. “Do you need anything?”

  “The key code?” she asked.

  Jean Etienne said, “We’ll let you know.”

  “When you said the other, ah, experiments didn’t tolerate your blood, what happened to them?”

  “They became supermanic.”

  She took in a deep breath. “So. Is that what we’re waiting for? To see if I go nuts?”

  “Partly.”

  “What’s the other part?”

  “We need to know if the results we’re seeing will last and, if so, what you may need in the way of,” he paused, “maintenance.”

  “Blood.”

  “Yes.”

  “What’s the best case scenario?”

  “I’m not a writer of fiction.”

  “That’s a ridiculous answer, unworthy of someone who is sooooooo old.”

  His lips twitched. “The best case scenario is that the vampire virus has been completely cleansed from your system.”

  “In which case I will be human again. I can go back to work and never set foot outside Jefferson Unit again as long as I live.”

  Jean Etienne frowned. “That would not be a best case. That would be a tragedy. It is a very big world and humans have precious little time in which to experience it.”

  “Blah. Blah Blah.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means immortals shouldn’t spout off about what humans should and shouldn’t do or feel.”

  “Very well.”

  “Unbelievably, you are pouting.” She laughed out loud. “I’m the one whose entire life is in crisis here, in the balance really, and you’re going to pout because I said it’s
not your place to lecture on what I should do with my remaining time if I became a real girl again.”

  “Let’s change the subject.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “You’re being difficult.”

  “Better than being an ass’s rump.”

  “You’re taking your predicament out on me. I’m not the one who bit you, mademoiselle.”

  Jean Etienne was sorry he’d said it as soon as tears sprang to Genevieve’s eyes.

  “I know you’re not. Sorry. I’m not in a good place.”

  “Of course you’re not. How could you be? I’m an insensitive lout.”

  “No. You’ve been kind to keep me company while we’re waiting to learn my fate. How long will that take, by the way?”

  “We’re explorers. We have no idea what will or will not be next. We simply have to live through it one minute at a time.”

  “You mean I simply have to live through it one minute at a time.”

  “No. I meant we.” Genevieve looked at Jean Etienne with a mixture of surprise and gratitude. “I will see this through no matter what comes next. I will not leave you.” Jean Etienne looked away. He hadn’t thought through making such an open-ended commitment, wasn’t prepared for the ramifications, and was quite surprised at himself. It had just sort of popped out, but once it was spoken, he couldn’t say he regretted it. The girl was a multilayered puzzle of contradictions, need, orneriness, and delight.

  Genevieve swiped at the tears on her face, hating that she looked so vulnerable. “Thank you,” she said.

  Her eyes hadn’t returned to the warm brown they had been before the infection, but they were no longer the pale ice blue of virus-carriers. For the time being, their color had resolved to an exotic caramel. Jean Etienne could also see that properties in his blood had caused a metamorphosis in her appearance. She was gradually beginning to exhibit the flawlessness of immortals. Her skin was taking on the poreless and even look of youthful perfection. Her flesh and muscle were taking on tone similar to that of a twenty-year-old.

  Jean Etienne would say that, by looks alone, it would be hard to tell that she was not an immortal.

  Falcon returned to the hospital bed in the hallway late that night. He’d thought about sleeping in his own bed, but the pull to keep watch over Genevieve was stronger. He was sitting there, watching Genevieve and Jean Etienne when Wakey showed up.