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

by Victoria Danann

  Something in the way Glen expressed that filled Rosie’s soul with sorrow. She was putting bits and pieces together like a puzzle and it was taking shape in a way that made Glen’s life since she’d known him seem like hel.

  “Most of us take that for granted. It must be awful having to live your whole life at night.”

  Glen didn’t respond. He simply took another look around, picked up the oars, and resumed rowing toward the island.

  They stood inside the stone gazebo, turned a full circle, then descended the jagged steps to the grotto beneath the ‘temple’. The natural formation was magical enough to distract them from their purpose for being there temporarily, but not completely.

  “I just don’t get it,” Rosie said. “The crystal indicates that he was here. Now he’s not only not here, but it would seem that he’s not anywhere.”

  “We’re being punked by your crystal. How am I supposed to report that to the J.U. Sovereign? ‘Sorry. But he’s not anywhere.’”

  “We could respond a lot faster if you hadn’t lost your pills. Chasing him the human way puts us at a disadvantage.”

  “Well it wouldn’t do much good for me to get within grabbing distance and have to stop to puke on the street either.”

  As Rosie looked at the crystal and shook her head, it came to life again. “Got something. If we go the other direction and take the bridge, we can probably get to a taxi faster.”

  “Leave the boat?”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it would be extra trouble for the boat guy.”

  “Leave a big enough cash tip in the boat so that he doesn’t mind the trouble.”

  Glen seemed to internally debate that solution before weighting some money down with an oar. “I hope marriage-proposal guy finds that before somebody else.” He climbed back out of the canoe and said, “Okay. Let’s go your way. It’ll be under a minute, right?”

  “Yes.”

  Glen took her hand and placed her fingers between his leather belt and his jeans. “Hold on tight. Don’t lose me.”

  She tightened her grip on his belt and smiled sweetly. “This time I won’t, but the next time you turn your back on me and walk off, expect me to do the same to you in the passes.”

  Glen parted his lips to say something, but before he got the chance to form a retort, he was plunged into the passes. They emerged on the left bank of the Seine.

  “Still got a signal,” Rosie said. “Can you move?”

  Glen was leaning over with his hands on his knees. He shook his head vigorously. Without thinking, Rosie put her hand on his back and patted in a way universally understood as comfort-giving.

  “What are you doing?” he growled.

  She jerked her hand away. “Sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

  By the time he raised his head and said, “All right. Let’s go,” the crystal had dimmed and gone quiet.

  “Too late. He’s gone.”

  Glen took out his phone, typed out a text then put his phone back.

  “Reporting?”

  He shook his head. “No. Telling Monq to overnight some more of those pills.”

  “Oh. Good idea. How are you feeling?”

  “Halfway to okay.” He looked around to get his bearings. He knew the center of Paris well enough to figure out where he was visually. “Left bank.” Something seemed to get his attention. “I guess you’re hungry.”

  “Yes. How did you know?”

  He smirked. “Because you’re always hungry unless you just ate.”

  “Oh.”

  “See that?” He pointed at people sitting on the bank of the river with pink balloons in front of pink pizza boxes.

  “People eating pizza?”

  “I heard about this. It’s Pink Flamingo Pizza. You get a balloon with your order, then you can park your ass somewhere along the walk and they’ll find you by bicycle delivery. Pink bicycles.”

  “Pizza sounds good.” Glen smiled before he remembered he was supposed to be mad.

  He quickly changed his expression but not so quickly that Rosie didn’t notice. “You know, if you’re having to work so hard at being angry, maybe you should stop.”

  He looked into Rosie’s face and thought about what she’d just said. She was close enough that he could see the few faint freckles on her nose. He used to love those freckles.

  She expected him to bury the hatchet, but the past three years all he’d had to hold onto was misery. Somewhere along the way it had become a part of him, a side that was admittedly shadow, but necessary for survival. Letting go would mean leaving a hole where the misery had been residing, a vacuum. And everyone knows that nature abhors a vacuum. It would rush to suck in unknown things to fill itself up including some that could tear your heart out and leave it shredded. Like love.

  He stopped a guy going by on one of the pink bicycles and ordered pizza. They got a pink balloon and strolled along the river until they found a good place for people-watching. Glen had to admit that the city looked different when seen from the point of view of a person who wasn’t hunting for vampire. It was beautiful and, he supposed, probably as romantic as some claimed.

  Since the crystal was quiet, the two of them sat and ate pizza in silence until a guy walked by smoking a cigarette, wearing combat boots, white Jockey briefs, and a Nine Inch Nails tee shirt. When Glen looked at Rosie’s face, he couldn’t hold in the laugh that bubbled up any more than she could keep from laughing with him, but within seconds, he remembered that he didn’t laugh, at least not in mirth, and looked away.

  “You want to go back to the Unit?” she asked.

  “The pattern so far is, when he shows up, it’s around here. So it makes more sense to stay in the city center until we’re tired.”

  “Okay. Sure.”

  They walked along the river at dusk until they came to a place near one of the famous bridges where couples danced the tango by portable music. Glen bought two cups of wine from a hole-in-the-wall vendor and they sat at a table where they could watch.

  Rosie was clearly fascinated by the sensuous movements of people in everyday street clothes performing the dance of passion next to one of the most famous rivers in the world.

  “Glen,” she said without looking away from the dancers, “Paris is wonderful.”

  “Yes,” he agreed. “It is.” That was a revelation. Even though he’d spent months in Paris, he’d never thought it was all that. Before.

  “Don’t you wish you could do that?” she said, still staring transfixed.

  “Do what?”

  “Dance the tango.”

  “I can,” he said offhandedly like it was no big deal.

  She looked at him with wide eyes. “Shut up.”

  “No. Really. I went on a couple of dates with a teacher of el tango when I was in Buenos Aires. She taught me the basics.”

  “The basics.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Prove it.”

  He cocked his head. “That’s a challenge because you don’t believe me or because you want to try it. Which is it?”

  “Which answer will get me to yes?”

  “Come on.” As he stood, Rosie was amazed to see his body transform into the attitude of the dance. Drawing a slow arc in the air with a straight arm, he extended his hand to pull her from her chair.

  “Oh my,” she said, as she put her hand in his.

  He put her left hand on his shoulder then spread his right hand between her shoulder blades.

  “It’s mostly about attitude,” he said. “Pretending sensuality gets you halfway there.” He guided her through some basic steps and within minutes they were dancing. “You’re a fast learner. Not that I didn’t already know that.”

  “That can’t be a compliment, can it?”

  She was sounding a little breathless. He didn’t know if that was from the dancing or the contact, but he knew his own feverish feelings were coming from having the bane of his existence in his arms. He cursed himself for revealing that he knew
tango and agreeing to the dance. It was chipping away at his armor. When he realized that, he stopped abruptly and stepped away.

  “Let’s get a taxi. Falcon’s not out, but the vamps will be soon.”

  She dropped her hands. “Okay.” The word conveyed more disappointment than she’d intended, but she had been enjoying herself. Why pretend otherwise?

  Rosie lay awake pondering the question of whether or not it was possible to love two men. Her heart still hurt for the one she’d lost, but after five years she couldn’t quite picture his face anymore. She questioned herself about whether or not she’d ever stopped loving Glen and concluded that she hadn’t. He wasn’t just her first love. He was a permanent part of her. It was pointless to deny that, but it was also pointless to want to rekindle something that she’d killed.

  Glen was finished with her. He’d made that clear.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Paris - Day Three

  Glen was in the Unit mess talking with some of the Paris knights when Rosie came rushing in.

  “Time to go?” he asked.

  She nodded. “Did your package arrive?”

  “Not yet.”

  They hurried to the Operations Office to get a car and driver on the double. Using the crystal, Rosie directed the driver straight to the largest park in Paris. They got out and ran in the direction indicated by the crystal until they came to a wall.

  “What is this?” Rosie asked, then looking down she said, “Damn. He’s gone.”

  Glen was staring at the wall. “I heard about this place. Le mur des je t’aime. The wall of I-love-yous.”

  Rosie looked up. The wall, which was the length of a short city block, was covered with I-love-yous written in every language in every alphabet. “Wow. That’s a whole lotta love.”

  They hung around the park until evening then ducked into a sidewalk café for a late lunch or early supper. During the day Rosie had made stops at a crepe truck, an ice cream vendor, and a roasted chestnut vendor. Glen didn’t see how she could possibly be hungry, but she said she was.

  The weather was beautiful even as the sun went down. Rosie pulled a shawl out of her bag and wrapped it around her shoulders. It was more for fashion than necessity and also helped her blend in.

  As they were deciding whether to head back to the Unit, the crystal weighed in and led them to the Palais Garnier, the famous old Paris Opera House.

  Rosie read the marquee. “The ballet. Falcon’s gone to the ballet? Alone? You’re right. The crystal must be broken.”

  “Well, we’re here. We might as well go in and see if he’s here. If he actually sits down to watch, it might be our best chance to make contact.”

  “We can’t apprehend somebody in the middle of the ballet.”

  “One step at a time. Let’s find him first. Then we’ll decide what to do.”

  Glen went to the ticket window and discovered that two mezzanine seats had been turned back in.

  “That almost never happens,” said the cashier. “You’re very fortunate.”

  Inside the booth, but out of sight, Jean Etienne handed the cashier a large bill for her part in delivering the tickets to the right party. She put it in her purse and, when she turned back to thank him, he was gone.

  “We’re going to the ballet?” Rosie asked.

  “Yes.”

  She stopped and grabbed Glen’s arm. “Oh, shit! We’re going to the ballet!”

  “What’s the big deal?”

  “What’s the big deal?”

  “You’ve never been? In your life?”

  “I’ve never been in my life. And I’m wearing jeans and a Free People thing.”

  Glen looked at her clothes. “You look fine.”

  “It’s ballet at the Phantom of the Opera House.” Glen chuckled whether he wanted to or not. “Shouldn’t I be wearing an evening gown?”

  “No. People don’t do that anymore. Look around.”

  She did. People were dressed in street clothes which made her relax a little, but didn’t quell the excitement in the least.

  “It’s Romeo and Juliet,” she said.

  “I know. I saw.”

  “Only it’s contemporary times. They’re doing it in modern clothes.” She pointed at the posters.

  “Yep. Jets and Sharks.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing. What does the crystal say?”

  “Oh.” She pulled on the chain to bring it out of the bodice of her Free People thing. “It’s gone quiet.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah.” She frowned.

  “Well, we bought these stupid tickets so we might as well do this until you get another signal. I still think the blasted thing is broken.”

  Whenever Glen looked over at Rosie during the performance, he could see that she was riveted. By the last scene of the last act, wherein Romeo kills himself, Rosie was gripping the arms of her chair with tears streaming down her face. Minutes before the end, Glen pulled her up out of her seat, took her hand and led her out of the theatre, onto the street.

  “What’s this about? It’s not like you didn’t know how it was going to end.” He reached up impulsively to wipe her tears away.

  “You don’t want to know.”

  He dropped his hand to his side. “I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want to know.”

  Studying his face in the dim light, she thought she detected honest concern, something she hadn’t ever expected to experience again. A commotion drew her attention away when people began pouring out of the opera house.

  “Let’s walk,” she said, turning south toward the river. Glen kept pace with her, letting her choose the direction. She faced forward as she began to speak. “I asked Kellareal for a place to go where I could…” she paused, but continued walking, choosing words carefully, “where I could try to figure things out without people pushing and pulling.”

  “Who was pushing and pulling?”

  “Well, Dad for one. When he found out what I’d said to you, he was livid. I hated that he was mad at me and didn’t know how to respond. But more than that I hated that I was a disappointment to him.”

  “He said that?”

  “Not in so many words, but the message was clear enough. You know, he’s Black Swan to the marrow. So Kellareal agreed to help me locate a retreat. He took me to a dimension where somebody owed him a favor. They were a subspecies of hybrids he’d rescued and kind of adopted, I guess. I learned to work.” She looked over at Glen for a second and smiled. “I tended bar.”

  Glen didn’t try to hide his disbelief. “You did not.”

  She laughed. “I did. What’s more surprising, I liked it. No. I loved it. Even the mindless sweeping, polishing, washing glasses part. All of it.”

  “Wow.”

  She took a deep breath. “I came to care for one of them. And he died.”

  Glen stopped walking and went as stiff as a board. “You’re telling me you fell in love?” Even though it wasn’t spoken, Rosie heard the whole question with her heart. What he was really asking was, “You’re telling me you fell in love with somebody else?”

  Rosie screwed up her face. She wanted to be truthful, but didn’t want to be responsible for hurting Glen more than she already had. “I was very attached and prepared to be committed. It would have been impossible not to respond to someone who thinks you’re everything.” Glen winced, feeling the emotional bite of that even if it hadn’t been intended that way. “He needed me and I loved being needed.”

  It started to rain lightly. After a couple of seconds Glen put his arm around her shoulders and guided her under the awning of a sidewalk café for shelter. For a long time they stood there in damp clothes, silently watching the rain fall all around them. The streets had instantly cleared of people and, sheltered as they were, even though temporarily, it felt like they could have been the only two people alive.

  Finally Glen said, “How did he die?”

  “In battle. Trying to rescue his younger brother who’d been taken p
risoner.” In an even quieter voice, she added, “I saw it.”

  “You mean you saw him die?”

  “Yes.”

  He sighed. “Sounds hard.”

  “Yeah,” was all she said.

  “Rosie, regardless of what happened between us, I don’t want you to think that I didn’t need you. I did. Believe me, I’ve told myself thousands of times that, if I had a do-over, knowing everything I know now, I would have stayed with you.”

  Rosie looked at Glen sharply, her eyes shining in the darkness. “Don’t ever say that. You were the one who was right! I was the one who was too young for a relationship.” Her shoulders sagged because she feared Glen had been torturing himself, believing he’d chosen wrongly and she hated that she’d been the cause of so much grief. Words from the past echoed in her mind and she found herself saying, “Don’t you get it? If everybody who could kill the monsters stayed home, where would we be then?”

  There they stood in a swirling eddy of emotions that touched briefly on understanding, empathy, even forgiveness, and time seemed to slow down. Rosie felt the connection they’d both once taken for granted slide back into place and click like a high end star-chamber lock. When she raised her face to see if Glen felt it, too, he was turning away and stepping out into the street.

  He’d hailed a passing cab and was motioning for her to come as he opened the car door. Glen gave the driver the address of the Jeanne d’ Arc Unit.

  When they were settled inside the taxi, Glen reached for his phone which lit the darkness. Rosie looked over and saw that it was a text from Farthing, but couldn’t read it.

  FARTHING: Falcon is in custody. Transport will be available for return midday tomorrow. The Paris Unit will provide two knights to accompany you.

  GLEN: Acknowledged.

  Glen put his phone in his jacket pocket. “They have Falcon in custody and ready for transport back to J.U. tomorrow. They’ve allocated two knights from this unit to make the trip.” He gave a wry smile. “I guess they don’t want to take any chances on me losing him again.”