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

by Victoria Danann

  Baka pretended to pinch her. “The restaurant is part of the train station built at the turn of the century.”

  Heaven interrupted, “He means the turn of the last century. He loses track.”

  “Thank you, love,” said Baka. “It’s a national historical monument. The walls and ceilings have forty-one paintings done by masters of the time. Gervex. Saint-Pierre. René Billotte. It’s like dining in a museum.”

  “Baka is an artist. Did you know that?” Heaven said.

  “No.” Rosie smiled. “I didn’t know that.”

  Glen didn’t bother to acknowledge that anyone was speaking.

  The maitre d’ called Baka by name and showed them to a corner booth. Heaven sat and scooted toward the wall. Baka sat beside her, which meant that Glen had no choice but to sit close to Rosie across from the vampire and his wife, who was reported to be some sort of strange summoner of everything from goats to vampire. Looking at the couple making kissy faces across the table, he wondered if she also summoned happiness.

  Rosie noticed that the room was crowded despite the fact that it probably cost a small fortune to dine there.

  The sommelier appeared as soon as they were seated, looking as pleased as if it was his birthday. He allowed his gaze to touch everyone at the table before fixing on Baka. He asked if Baka wanted something in particular. Without hesitating, Baka asked if they still had a bottle of Romanee-Conti.

  The man grinned in a way that made Rosie wonder if he got a commission on wine sales. After bowing slightly, he disappeared.

  “I hope that’s just for the two of you,” said Glen. “We’re working tonight. Or at least I hope we will be.”

  “Of course,” Baka replied. He looked at Heaven. “We can make a splash all by ourselves, can’t we?”

  She gave a throaty laugh. “We’re supposed to be working later ourselves.”

  “Well,” he said, “then we’ll have to finish dinner with some of their outrageously fabulous coffee which tastes like it was brewed in heaven.”

  At that he kissed his wife like they had just procured a room and were alone in it. Glen and Rosie watched the public display of passion, Rosie with amusement, Glen with disdain. When the waiter arrived tableside, he stood waiting politely for some time before clearing his throat.

  Baka drew back with a roguish smile when he saw that Heaven’s eyes were glazed and distant. “Haven’t lost my touch,” he whispered loud enough that Glen and Rosie could hear across the table.

  “Would you like to see menus?” Baka asked Glen and Rosie.

  “Since you know the place, I’m okay with having you order for me,” Rosie said.

  Baka looked to Glen who shrugged in reply. Taking that to mean yes, Baka ordered for the four of them.

  “Duck foie gras with the crystallised pear. The leg of lamb with gratin Dauphinois. Rum baba with Malagasy vanilla. And espresso after.” Heaven whispered something to Baka, who then said, “Raspberry cheesecake for the lady instead of Rum baba.”

  When the waiter left, Glen said, “It’s a good thing our employer has deep pockets.”

  Baka smiled. “That is nice. But dinner tonight is my treat. I was hoping for news of American friends.”

  “He means Elora,” Heaven said, rolling her eyes.

  Baka stared at his wife. “That is not what I meant. I’m curious about all the people I came to know during my transition.”

  “Elora is having twins. Had you heard that?” Rosie asked.

  “I had heard something about that,” Baka said. “How is she?”

  “Ready to pop. She’s huge. And due anytime from what I understand.”

  “How is your father?”

  “Good, but tired of the knight grind. You know.”

  “Indeed I do.”

  Heaven leaned toward Baka and said something so quietly that Glen and Rosie couldn’t hear. Baka laughed and then consumed his wife in a series of kisses that made the two of them seem much more like desperate teenage lovers than settled married couple.

  When the foie gras arrived, they were still going at it.

  Glen tapped the table nervously, not wanting to stare at them, not wanting to look at Rosie, and not wanting to stare at other diners either. Rosie, on the other hand, was rather captivated by the demonstration of married life at its best.

  The Bakas pulled apart long enough to feed each other foie gras.

  “This is embarrassing,” Glen said under his breath so only Rosie could hear.

  “Oh, I don’t know. I think it’s kind of charming and optimistic for lovers everywhere.”

  “Optimistic?”

  “Yes. It says that married life doesn’t have to be dull.”

  “Are you two sharing secrets?” Baka asked.

  “Yes,” Glen said. “You should try it sometime. Keeping private things private that is.”

  Baka laughed. “Didn’t mean to ruffle sensibilities, old man.”

  When Glen stared at Baka like he was dumbfounded, Heaven chuckled and said, “It’s something the cool kids said before the beginning of time.”

  Glen’s scowl returned as he stared at the foie gras, thinking it didn’t look edible. Rosie, on the other hand, was gobbling it down and making little low humming noises that got a reaction from Glen’s traitorous dick.

  Baka reached for his phone. “Excuse me. I’d hoped we could get through dinner, but…” He paused to frown at his phone. “We’re needed elsewhere. Please stay and enjoy. Order anything else you might want. The tab is settled.” Baka and Heaven slid out of the booth. He nodded at Glen and Rosie. “I hope I’ll get to see you again while you’re here in the city of love.”

  “We’re sorry you have to rush off, but thank you for dinner,” said Rosie.

  “If I don’t see you again, please give our regards to your family.”

  “Of course.”

  Heaven smiled at Rosie, “Please don’t think us rude. Duty calls.”

  “We understand.” Rosie smiled at her.

  Glen remained silent, but watched Baka stop the maître d and say something to him. The maître d nodded in response.

  “I hope he didn’t just order drinks on the house and tell that guy that I would pay.”

  Rosie looked at Glen like she’d never seen him before. “What’s the matter with you?”

  “No idea what you mean.”

  “You’re acting like a perfect stranger. The Glen I know would never be ungracious.”

  “The Glen you know is gone,” he said, his tone completely void of emotion. “Thought you would have figured that out by now.”

  “Are we leaving?” Rosie asked with an unmistakable sadness over the way the evening had turned out. She hadn’t realized that she was enjoying herself until Mr. and Mrs. Baka departed. Then the reality of the fuming thunderstorm that used to be Glendennon Catch settled around her like a shroud made of thick hemp dyed black.

  Glen got up, walked around to the other side of the table and slid into the booth seat facing Rosie. “Might as well stay. We have to eat. And it’s free. Supposedly.”

  The waiter punctuated the end of that thought by arriving to reset the table for two according to instructions from the maître d’. Glen watched every movement as if he was training for the job. Rosie wasn’t fooled by his feigned interest. She knew he was trying to find something to look at that wasn’t her.

  “So,” she said, “tell me what you’ve been doing since I saw you last.”

  Glen’s first impulse was to snarl and tell her to fuck off and that, if she’d wanted to know, she damn well could have called, but before the ugliness left his lips he rethought it. Since there was nothing to do while they had dinner but talk, he decided he’d make the best of it.

  “Moved around a lot.”

  “Oh? By choice.”

  “No.”

  “Oh. Well, what was it like?”

  He let his gaze meet hers, long enough to confirm that her green eyes still had the yellow and brown flecks in them. Long en
ough to see that she was undeniably the most beautiful creature alive. He hated her for that. He hated himself for making the choice to walk away from her. He hated the life he’d lived for the past five years. And he hated being left alone to have dinner with the last person in the world he wanted to sup with.

  He took in a big sigh. “It was awful.”

  “I’m sorry. Did you make some friends though?”

  He barked out a laugh that indicated the answer was no, just before the lamb arrived. When the aromas reached his nostrils, he suddenly had a hard time remembering why he didn’t want to be there and made a decision that it wouldn’t cost him anything to be civil to Rosie.

  “This smells good.”

  “It does,” she replied.

  In between bites of what was perhaps the best dinner of his life, Glen sketched out a travel log of assignments, leaving out details about the seediness, the loneliness, and the stress of not knowing for certain that the people on his team could be trusted to have his back in a confrontation with vampire.

  Rosie listened quietly but intently, trying to hear what was being said and discern what was being left out.

  “You want coffee?” Glen asked. “It was ordered.”

  “Not really,” she said just before her eyes went wide. She jumped a little in her seat.

  “What is it?” Glen demanded.

  “The crystal is awake. I guess I’ll have to get used to that.”

  Without a word Glen stood and began walking toward the exit leaving her to follow behind him. She didn’t know if people were watching the display of boorish behavior, but she felt humiliated.

  Outside on the street, she said, “Do you want to take a pill and wait five minutes or take a taxi?”

  Glen reached for the pill bottle in the pocket of his leather jacket. He looked at Rosie when his hand was withdrawn empty. He patted himself down and went through all his pockets, one by one, before finally saying, “Taxi it is.”

  Ten minutes later the taxi let them out in the heart of Paris night life.

  Standing next to the curb after the taxi drove away, Rosie said, “You think he decided to go dancing?”

  Glen shrugged and looked perplexed. It didn’t make sense to him either and he wondered if Rosie’s crystal could malfunction. But they were there so he was going to check it out. “Which way?”

  The crystal led them to a cerulean blue building at 13 Boulevard Poissonnière with an alterna-style crowd milling about outside. The sounds of bass-heavy electronica drifted out into the street.

  “In here,” Rosie said.

  Glen eyed the place. “You sure?”

  Rosie cut her gaze at him sharply. “You just see to your own job, Sir Catch.”

  He tightened his lips and started toward the door. That was the one of too many times Rosie had seen Glen turn his back on her and walk off. She considered going back to the Paris Unit without telling him, but decided it would be unprofessional.

  Inside there was a sunken dance floor and an international crowd that felt reminiscent of the big techno-grunge clubs of London. The place was crowded even though it was early by club standards.

  Glen looked at Rosie with eyebrows raised, clearly asking which way. She took hold of the crystal, but shook her head. He grabbed her bicep and leaned down to her ear so he could be heard above the music.

  “Stay close to me. I can’t look for him and watch out for you at the same time.”

  Rosie laughed with enough derision to be sure he caught the bite and pulled away. “I can take care of myself.”

  Glen nodded and turned in a slow circle looking for Falcon, carefully scanning not only the ground floor but the part of the mezzanine that was visible from below. Between the mirrors and the tiny spotlights that moved over the dancing crowd, changing color, size, and direction, he began to feel a little disoriented. He started through the gyrating crowd on the dance floor. Several pairs of feminine hands reached out to beckon him closer, but he gently shrugged each would-be partner away. When he reached the other side without a glimpse of their target, he turned to ask Rosie what the crystal had to say. She wasn’t there.

  He started back through the crowd the way he’d come and hadn’t gone far when she came into view. She was dancing, sandwiched in between two guys who looked skungie enough to be on Z Team. His temper shot straight to white hot. Not because she was uber sexy and doing a provocative dance that involved touching in suggestive ways.

  If not for the horde of moving bodies between them, he would have stomped over and jerked her away, but progress was as slow as trying to walk in waist-high ocean at high tide. By the time he reached her, he had lost control of his composure and the part of him that was werewolf. Fortunately the music was so loud that only those close by heard the distinct sound of angry canine growling as he passed. They quickly attributed it to imagination or one too many sense-bending beverages and forgot all about it.

  Rosie was startled when she felt a strong hand encircle her wrist and yank her away from the pleasurable masculine sandwich she’d been enjoying.

  She looked up into Glen’s fury with surprise that quickly turned to anger that was all her own. “Growling?” she said. “Seriously?!? Have you lost your mind?”

  “Have you lost yours?” he yelled in response. “You’re supposed to be working.”

  “The crystal has gone quiet. He was here, but he’s gone. So I might as well have a little fun.”

  “Fun?” Glen looked at the two boys she’d been dancing with in a way that made them both retreat in search of another partner. “When were you going to tell me?” he shouted. “You were just going to let me keep looking all night while you had public sex with strangers? Knowing he’s not here?”

  She pressed her lips together. “First, since when do you care who I dance with? Second, if you want to know something from me, then maybe you shouldn’t always be turning your back on me and walking off. I don’t owe it to you to follow.”

  “You’re supposed to be working with me.”

  “Really? Are you supposed to be working with me?” Glen’s angry panting had begun to slow and he wasn’t showing quite so much tooth when he spoke. When no response was forthcoming, Rosie said, “I’m out of here. I’ll let you know when I have a fix on him again.”

  And with that she vanished, leaving him to find his own way back to the unit. Alone. He’d forgotten how much he hated that she had the ability to do that in the middle of an argument.

  He left the club still too angry to get a ride. So he walked around for a bit, hood up and shoulders hunched with hands in his pockets. It was a posture that had become familiar to his body. As he walked he began to take a good look at himself and realize that he’d been angry for so long he’d forgotten how to be anything else.

  Sometime after midnight Rosie heard the suite door open and close. She looked at the clock out of reflex. She hadn’t been lying awake waiting for him to come in. She just hadn’t fallen asleep. At least that’s what she told herself. She turned over, blinking slowly, calming her mind, and let her eyes close.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Paris - Day Two

  Glen hadn’t been able to find the little tin of miracle pills that prevented travel sickness in the passes, so they had to resort to transportation human-style. The cab let them out at Bois de Vincennes, the largest park in the city. They followed a tree-lined avenue then took a meandering path ending at a boat dock.

  “Well?” Glen asked.

  “Over there.” She pointed to a small island in the middle of the lake with a pillared Grecian gazebo rising on a hill above the grotto entrances.

  Glen turned to the man in charge of canoe rental. “What is that place?” he asked in French.

  “The Temple of Love,” the man answered. “On Île de Reuilly.”

  Glen shook his head and laughed bitterly. Under his breath he said, “Of course it is. Swear to the gods this feels like a set up.” He turned to the man. “Is this the best way to get there?�
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  “Oui. Which one do you want?”

  “Which boat?” Glen looked behind him. The first one that caught his attention said Se Leva on the side.

  Seeing Glen’s fixation on that particular boat, the man said, “Oui. This one,” and began untying the rope.

  Rosie came up next to him. “Oh. The boat’s named Rose. Cool. It’s a sign.”

  “It’s not a sign. It’s a canoe. And Rose is not exactly a unique name.”

  The boat renter said something to Glen. “What did he say?” she asked.

  Glen sneered. “He wanted to know if I was going to propose in the ‘temple of love’.” He made air quotes.

  Rosie simply looked away and sniffed as if she was unaffected by Glen’s spitefulness.

  It didn’t take long to get to the halfway point because the lake wasn’t big.

  “You’re not going to row?” Glen asked.

  “No. You lost the pills. Now we have to get around human-style. So it’s only fair that you provide the power.”

  Glen didn’t really mind rowing. It wasn’t hard. He’d just made the comment as an opportunity to be contentious. He stopped and looked around, noticing that the temperature and atmosphere were as close to perfection as it gets this side of paradise. The muscles held in a constant state of tension for years on end were beginning to relax in spite of himself. He didn’t know if that was because of the gentle feel of the air, the beauty of the place, or, gods forbid, the presence of the woman at the other end of the canoe. He batted away the unwanted thought that, if things had turned out differently, the two of them might have been there in that very place, on that very day, enjoying a honeymoon.

  “What are you thinking?”

  Glen looked at Rosie. “I don’t get out in the daytime often.” He paused. “For obvious reasons.”

  “Because vampire are out at night.”

  He nodded. “When you think about it, it’s kind of amazing, being able to see far away, knowing if something is coming for you in time to stop it.”