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

by Victoria Danann

  The first thing Falcon did when he woke was to look at his watch. It was two o’clock in the afternoon.

  He heard the familiar murmur of Jean Etienne talking to Genevieve. He turned his head on the pillow in time to see Genevieve’s fangs extend just before she latched onto Jean Etienne’s neck. His mind grappled with trying to make sense of seeing his Genevieve as a vampire. It was quiet enough that he could make out soft lapping and sucking sounds accompanied by moans of pleasure from beyond the cell barrier. Jean Etienne’s eyes had closed, but it was impossible to tell if that was from pleasure or pain.

  Falcon watched silently without moving until he heard footsteps approaching. He moved his head enough to see that it was Monq.

  “Enough,” Jean Etienne said firmly.

  There was a little bit of a struggle before he pulled Genevieve away.

  Jean Etienne glanced over at Monq and held up a finger to signal that he should wait a minute.

  Falcon sat up and rubbed his eyes.

  “How long have you been awake?” asked Monq.

  “Long enough to see the… thing.”

  Monq nodded just as Jean Etienne appeared in the hallway next to them.

  “What happened?”

  Jean Etienne shrugged. “She got hungry. I gave her what she needed. I think your experiment is done, at least for now.”

  Monq looked at Genevieve. “What will happen to her?”

  Jean Etienne looked at Monq like he was daft. “She’s coming with me, of course.”

  “No,” said Falcon, shaking his head. “She’s not. You can leave some of your blood if that’s what she needs, but she’s not going anywhere with you.”

  “Why not?” asked Jean Etienne. “I like her.”

  “You like her,” Falcon repeated drily. “That’s not enough. Not nearly enough for someone like her.”

  “Yes. It is.” Genevieve had risen and walked toward the barrier. She was standing just on the inside of the glass, looking out at Falcon.

  “Gen, you don’t know him or what he’s really like.”

  “I know enough, Sir Falcon. Gods know I didn’t ask for this, but this is what I’ve got and Jean Etienne, well, I like him, too.”

  Falcon was shaking his head. “No.”

  “I’m sorry this has caused you pain,” said Jean Etienne, “but the decision has been made. By the two of us.”

  Falcon looked at Genevieve. “So you’re committing to spending forever with this creep?”

  When she laughed, Falcon realized how much her looks had changed. Her hair seemed to have brighter highlights. Her skin was glowing. And the caramel-colored eyes would haunt him for the rest of his life. She almost looked like an airbrushed pinup version of herself. In short, she was eerily flawless.

  “I guess ‘creep’ is in the eye that beholds. No?” She shook her head. “I’ve been flattered by the attention you’ve given me, the beautiful flowers. I was never right for you. But someone is. Someone will treasure your capacity to woo and desire you above all others.”

  “Open the door,” he said to Monq.

  Monq looked at Jean Etienne who shook his head. “She’s not ready for that. In time, she will gain control over her appetites, but at present, it would be foolish to risk putting a human within her reach.”

  Monq looked at Falcon with pity. “Sorry. We can’t take the chance.”

  “So you’re just going to let him walk out of here with her.”

  “We’re not going to walk,” said Jean Etienne, “but that’s the general idea. The choice is hers and she’s made it.”

  Falcon turned to Monq. “She’s going to be completely dependent on him for everything. Do you realize that? And she won’t even be able to ask for help if it goes south. She’s one of our own. You can’t let him just disappear with her.”

  Falcon made points that caused Monq to look uncertain. He turned back to say that perhaps he should let headquarters make the final decsion, but it was a moot point. Without having made a whisper of a sound, the two vampire, old and new, had vanished.

  Falcon whirled and threw his fist at the wall behind him with such force that Monq thought he heard a crack.

  The young knight walked away without another word. He took the elevator to the fourth floor, got off and climbed the stairs the rest of the way to the rooftop whisterport. At that time of day there was no one around. Most of the knights would be having breakfast. It would be hours before whister maintenance and pilots showed up to check over the transport equipment and get it ready for the coming night.

  Flying a whister is like driving a car with a stick shift. Learning takes some effort, but once the process is programmed into muscle memory, you don’t forget how to do it.

  Kris checked the fuel tank, went through the checklist, turned the engine over and lifted off.

  He had no jacket, no belongings, just sixty dollars in his pocket and the clothes he’d slept in. He hadn’t even brushed his teeth.

  He wasn’t especially close with his family. They’d always been completely involved with the oldest son and, though they would never have admitted it, they thought of Falcon as the throw-away. He’d become a virtual son of Black Swan when he was fourteen. His friends were Black Swan. His history was Black Swan.

  He had no idea where he would go or what he would do. He only knew that he had to get away.

  He set the whister down on one of the Manhattan whisterports. He wasn’t worried about the whister being stolen. First, whister pilots were not a dime a dozen. Second, it was impossible to access the roof without a body scan that registered the unmistakable uniqueness of an individual.

  He’d been careful to leave his phone on the pilot seat. Black Swan phones had extremely sophisticated tracking that couldn’t be disabled. They’d be able to quickly locate the whister. But not him.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Day Six - Psych Eval

  Falcon’s departure wasn’t confirmed until after the whister maintenance tech came on to check the birds over and make sure they were ready for evening duty. Black Swan was meticulously careful about equipment. They spent a lot of time, money, and effort to train knights and they were determined not to lose any to accidents that could have been avoided with a little more attention to detail and one more review of the checklist.

  The tech went straight to the rooftop office and dialed the Sovereign’s phone on the in-house system.

  The admin on duty answered. “Sovereign’s office.”

  “This is Wilson. Let me speak to the man,” he said with the roughness of a long-time cigar smoker.

  “He doesn’t like to be disturbed when he’s working on the duty roster. I’ll ask him to return your call.”

  “No. You won’t. You’ll put me through right now.”

  The admin hesitated, but decided the more prudent choice would be erring on the side of caution.

  “Just a minute,” he said.

  “What is it?” Rev answered with a gruffness that matched Wilson’s, if not in gravelly tone, in attitude.

  “We’re missing a whister.”

  “I know I heard that wrong. Say again.”

  “You heard right. Got two out of three topside.”

  Rev didn’t bother to say goodbye. He hung up while he was rising from the chair. He knew it wasn’t going to take Sherlock Holmes to figure out who had absconded with a three million dollar machine. There were exactly four pilots in residence at Jefferson Unit.

  Rev came to a standstill in his outer office before he even reached the hallway when he remembered. There were only four professional pilots. But there were two other people who could fly whisters. Falcon and Wakenmann.

  He turned back to his admin. “Get Falcon on the phone.”

  “Yes, sir.” After brief clicking of the keys, Rev heard through the speakers that Falcon’s phone went straight to voicemail.

  “Try Wakenmann.”

  “Yes, sir.” Again brief clicking, but Wakenmann picked up right away.

  �
��Wakenmann,” was all he said.

  “I’ll take it in my office,” Rev said.

  The admin nodded. “Hold for the Sovereign.”

  Rev closed the door, picked up his phone, and pushed the lit button. “When was the last time you saw Falcon?”

  “This morning when we came in. Why?”

  “Can you think of any reason why he would borrow a whister without permission?”

  “Fuck!” said Wakey.

  “Beg pardon?”

  “Can I get back to you on that? Sir?”

  “Quickly, Sir Wakenmann.”

  “Definitely.”

  Wakey ran down the hallway to the elevators. When he didn’t get one right away, he pushed through the door that led to the stairwell and descended to Monq’s sublevel taking the stairs three at a time. He was out of breath by the time he reached the cell where Genevieve had been held.

  Except for Falcon’s freshly made hospital bed, the place was empty.

  Wakey scrubbed his hand down his face then jogged back to Monq’s office. The door was open and Monq was in front of his computer.

  “Seen Falcon?”

  Monq looked up. “No. Why?”

  “Do you know what AWOL means?”

  Monq scowled. “Conjecture? Or fact?”

  “How many people do you know around here who can fly a whister?”

  “Dagnabbit! I should have anticipated something like this.”

  “Yeah,” Wakey nodded. “You should have. I’m not a shrink and I saw it coming.”

  Monq looked serious. “Does Rev know?”

  Wakey raised his eyebrows. “Oh. Yeah.”

  Monq got up. “I’ll take it from here.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I’m not sure. I’ll figure it out on the way upstairs.”

  “I’m coming.”

  “If you want, but the Sovereign’s not likely to be in a good mood.”

  “Think not?” Wakey said sarcastically.

  When Monq wasn’t moving fast enough for Wakey, he said, “You need me to carry you?”

  “I’m a scientist. Not a slave to treadmills.”

  “Never would have guessed. About that last part, I mean.”

  “So go on ahead of me if you’re in that big a hurry for a meeting with Farthing in head-rolling mode.”

  Wakey rethought his perspective. “You’re right. Slow is good.”

  “This is not slow!”

  “You want to argue that right now?”

  Monq paused before replying. “Not in the least.”

  When Monq and Wakey walked into Rev’s office, he held up his hand.

  “If you’re here to confirm that Falcon has left the premises without leave and with one of The Order’s extremely valuable mechanical assets, you’re too late. I’m already ahead of you. We tracked his phone to the TS whisterport. He apparently left it there, because it hasn’t moved in four hours.

  “If, on the other hand, you’re here to give some insight as to why a decorated knight would not only go AWOL but steal a whister in the process, then I’m listening.” Wakenmann looked at Monq, who looked at Wakenmann. “Cat got both your tongues?”

  Wakenmann cleared his throat. “Well, he’s been off his game.”

  “Yes,” said Monq. “He’s been upset ever since Mademoiselle Bonheur was brought in.”

  “I know that. Did something in particular happen to precipitate this rash response?”

  “Ah, yes, well, she left with Jean Etienne.”

  Rev’s eyebrows drew down so far that his eyes were almost obscured from view. “When did this happen?”

  “Earlier today.”

  “And no one thought to inform me?” When no answer was forthcoming, he added, “Are you under the impression that the post I occupy is a figurehead?”

  “Of course not,” Monq said, while Wakenmann vigorously shook his head no. “I didn’t think the report required immediacy.”

  “Seems you were wrong about that,” Rev said each word as if it was deliberated individually. Monq nodded. “What is his state of mind?”

  Monq glanced at Wakenmann before saying, “He’s off his game.”

  Rev’s lips pressed into a thin line. “And is that your professional psychiatric opinion, Dr. Monq?”

  “Well, sort of. I’d say he’s somewhere between off-kilter and…”

  “AWOL?”

  “I suppose that’s as good a description as any.”

  “Did you know that in the entire history of The Order this is only the third time a knight has given himself permission to take leave?”

  “No. I didn’t know that,” said Monq.

  “I’m mentioning it to illustrate the serious nature of this course of action.”

  “I understand.”

  “And that you should have anticipated that there could be a problem.” Monq nodded. “Do you agree?”

  “Yes.”

  Rev looked at Wakenmann. “This is the first time that Falcon has left without permission as a knight, but it’s not the first time he’s been away without leave, is it?”

  Wakey’s brow knitted slightly as he tried to figure out where the Sovereign was going with that question. “No, sir.”

  “The first time you were with him, weren’t you?”

  “I was. Sir.”

  “If I remember correctly, the two of you stowed away on a whister. Is that right?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “What was it that was so attractive that the two of you were willing to take such a risk?”

  Wakenmann dropped his head for a moment, willing his superior to withdraw the question. When it seemed unlikely that wishful thinking would work, he forced himself to answer. “Strippers. Sir.” It’s not that he was ashamed… exactly. It’s just that it’s not the sort of thing one confesses to a Sovereign. Especially not when the Sovereign has a reputation for being on the side of tight laced.

  Rev had to exercise considerable self-control to stop himself from smiling. To school his features into submission he gave himself a stern internal lecture about the fact that there was nothing amusing about Falcon abandoning his duty. When a knight like Falcon reacted so drastically, it meant that something was desperately wrong.

  “Well, Sir Wakenmann. You’re his partner. Is it safe to assume you’re also his best friend?”

  “That would be a safe assumption, sir.”

  “Then you may have some insight as to where he would go? And why?”

  “I can tell you why. I think. But no idea about where.”

  “All right. Tell me what you think you know.”

  Wakey’s gaze flicked to Monq.

  “Kris didn’t just have a thing for the Operations Manager. Over the years it has become more like an obsession. We, ah, his friends, were always trying to get him to look around for somebody who would return his, um, interest. It’s not like he never attracted female attention. Just the opposite. Of the four of us, he’d be most likely to experience a…”

  Wakenmann caught himself before he finished that sentence and seemed momentarily frozen, thinking how he could finish the thought without crossing a line into offensive territory.

  “A what, Sir Wakenmann?”

  Wakenmann blushed a bright red. “A, um, choice of feminine companionship without making much effort.”

  “I assume that’s not what you were going to say. Dr. Monq and I both appreciate your being considerate of our sensibilities.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You were saying that Falcon was obsessed with Mademoiselle Bonheur?”

  “Yeah. Not in a creepy stalker way. He just wouldn’t accept that she was never going to warm up to the idea of, ah, dating him. I mean, after six years it was pretty clear that she just wasn’t interested. At least it was clear to us. Obviously not to him. He seemed to think that one day he’d take her flowers and she’d say yes to dinner.”

  “I see.”

  “So she left with that vampire, I guess?” Wakenmann looke
d at Monq, who nodded. “It must have been hard to take. Really hard. I know he wasn’t himself when he took the whister. Please take the circumstances into consideration. To Kris, it’s, well, I think it’s probably worse than if she died.”

  Rev steepled his fingers and pursed his lips. “You’re a good friend. I’m not angry, if that’s your worry. I’m concerned for your partner. I agree that he’s been thrown off balance. I also agree it’s more than likely temporary. Regardless, we’ve got to get him back. If he wants to leave the knighthood, there’s a process and, like everybody else, he needs to follow the rules.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Thank you for your insight, Sir Wakenmann.”

  It was a dismissal, but Wakey wasn’t ready to be dismissed. “One question before I go, sir?”

  “Can we, I mean K Team, have leave to go search for him?”

  “Thank you for the offer. I’m sure you’re anxious about him. But no. I have someone in mind.”

  Wakenmann looked beyond disappointed. It was clear he was itching to hit the streets to look for Falcon and that he hoped he’d be the one to find him. He scowled, but said, “Yes, sir.”

  Wakenmann left and closed the door behind him.

  “I’m putting Fennimore on K Team and sending Catch out with the tracker. When we get Falcon back, you will need to be prepared to evalutate whether or not his career is salvageable.”

  Monq’s interest had definitely engaged. “You’re sending Glen out with Litha? That could be just what the doctor ordered. A change of scenery, something to do, but with a calming feminine presence - someone he knows and trusts.”

  “Yes to all of that except Litha isn’t the tracker.”

  “No?”

  “She’s on leave. Her daughter is filling in for her for a while.”

  Monq looked away before saying, “Oh boy.”

  “What?”

  After a brief internal struggle, Monq concluded that putting the two of them together on a mission would force a confrontation that gave every appearance of being unfinished business. It was a gamble. If it went well, it could be a better choice than years of therapy. If it went wrong, Monq would be in even hotter water with the Sovereign. He’d never thought of himself as a thrower of dice, but decided the potential for resolution between the two young people was worth the risk.