Rosie said nothing. She simply turned and watched the passing scenery out the window. By the time the cab pulled up outside the massive gates of Jeanne d’ Arc Unit, the rain had stopped.
Glen paid the driver and gave his code to the guard at the gate.
After slipping through the side door reserved for pedestrians, Glen and Rosie walked the rest of the way in silence. When they reached the suite, Rosie hesitated, standing in the large center room that was shared by suite occupants. Glen brushed past her on the way to his bedroom.
“Glen.” He stopped, but didn’t turn around. “Do you think we…?”
He turned his head far enough that she could see his profile and said, “No,” before continuing to his room and closing the door behind him.
Regardless of the discomfort of wet clothes and a chill, she didn’t correct the discomfort or move from that spot. For some time after she’d been left alone she continued to stand there mulling over what had happened. For a moment, under that awning, she’d been foolish enough to think there was a chance of starting over. If she hadn’t ruined their chances by instigating the physical separation, she’d done so by letting it drag on unresolved for years. Or when she confessed that she’d had feelings for someone else. It seemed there was an endless supply of ways to hurt Glen and pursue self-sabotage at the same time.
The next morning, after a night with a lot of thinking and little sleep, Rosie got up early. During the hours since Glen had walked away with a definitive, “No,” she’d decided that it was pointless to make the trip back to J.U. Glen and the other two knights didn’t need her to help return Falcon and every minute with Glen burned a bigger hole of grief into her solar plexus, knowing what she’d lost and that she’d done it to herself. And worse, to him.
She packed her bronze-tinted, polished taffeta backpack, wrote a note for Glen, and left for Edinburgh. The preeminent tracker had use of an apartment at headquarters, a nice perk. She’d determined to throw herself into the job, figure out other ways of tracking besides relying on a temperamental crystal that worked intermittently. She’d find out what else needed doing and lose herself in the blessed distraction of work. If it was work that ended up benefitting someone, she’d be satisfied, if not happy.
Rosie wasn’t the only one who’d spent a sleepless night. Glen had tossed and turned and rolled and whipped himself and the bed covers into a tangled mess. In the darkness his mind saw Rosie closing her eyes and making yummy sounds as she tasted the Rum Baba at Le Train Bleu, looking like a Renoir painting in a rowboat with the Temple of Love hovering above her in the background, reading the Wall of I Love You’s like it was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen, watching the tango dancers with the transparency of an unclaimed lover who wanted more than anything to be consumed by passion, and shedding tears over a lost attachment, tears so powerful that the clouds opened up and cried with her.
He wondered if she’d thought about him over the years apart and, if she had, why she’d never called. He also wondered why he hadn’t asked her that. He’d certainly had opportunity.
He made a decision that he was going to get up early, order a lavish breakfast to be served in the suite, and before they left Paris, ask her that one simple question. Why hadn’t she called? Just on the off chance that her answer might be something he could live with.
Feeling good about that plan, he set the alarm and drifted off to sleep.
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
Paris - Day Four
He grabbed the alarm when it went off. He didn’t think it would wake Rosie, but he wanted to have everything ready before she woke up. Kind of a surprise-I’ve-decided-maybe-I-don’t-hate-you-as-much breakfast.
He called the kitchen, then showered and dressed quickly.
When he emerged from his room to wait for breakfast to arrive, his gaze went first to the door of the other bedroom standing open, then to the handwritten note propped up and left on the dining room table.
Glen.
It was so good to see you again. You don’t need me to get Falcon back to J.U. I’d probably get in the way. Please take care of yourself.
Rosie
He crumpled the note in his hand.
Gone again.
Only this time he knew he had no one to blame but himself. She’d tried to reopen a line of communication between them, indicated that there might still be something there, and he’d shut it down every time.
He’d thought his pride was more important than what he really wanted. That thought brought him up short.
What did he really want? And the answer was as clear and definitive as a lightning strike. He wanted Rosie. He’d never wanted anything more, not even knighthood. For four days she’d been standing a breath away, demonstrating that reconciliation wasn’t beyond his reach. In fact, it would have been easy. All he had to do was accept the gift being offered. But he’d been so caught up in thinking he wanted to punish her that he’d blown what might have been his only second chance. Four days in Paris with the woman he loved and he’d wasted it.
Standing alone in the main room of the Charlemagne Suite with a crumpled note in his hand, he said out loud, “Which one of us is being childish now?”
A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. He assumed it was room service and opened the door to tell them to give breakfast to the dogs, but it wasn’t the kitchen staff. It was two of the Paris Unit knights letting him know that the car was ready to take them to the plane where they’d be taking responsibility for Kristoph Falcon until he was handed over at Jefferson Unit.
“Who has him now?” Glen asked in French.
The one named Frederique frowned slightly, but answered, “We weren’t told that.”
Glen said, “I’ll get my stuff.”
On the drive to the hangar The Order used for Paris transportation, Glen sat silently looking out the window, devising a plan for another chance with Rosie. As soon as Falcon was taken care of, he’d be taking some well-deserved leave to go on a knightly quest. Only it wouldn’t be vampire killing. What he’d be hunting was potentially so much more satisfying. A happily ever after.
The car pulled to a stop on the tarmac next to the jet that waited with steps lowered, beckoning passengers to board.
After exiting the car, the three knights waited, trading curious glances and looking around for some sign of their assignment.
Within a couple of minutes Deliverance popped onto the scene holding Falcon by the bicep.
The two knights who were unaccustomed to being around people who could pop in and out both jumped and reached for their chests reflexively as if to protect their hearts.
Glen looked from Falcon to Deliverance. “What are you doing with my runner, Gramps?”
“Don’t call me that, Choker,” Deliverance sneered. “What do you think? I’ve been keeping him occupied so that you could have a few days in Paris to win my granddaughter back.” He looked around. “I take it by her absence that you blew it. Again.”
Glen’s jaw clenched. “This was a set up.”
“More like an opportunity to get your head out of your ass. How’s that going for you? I’m thinking you’re still preoccupied with smelling poop.”
“Who else was in on this?”
“Everybody who cares about you, shithead. And her. I can tell by the look on your face that opportunity knocked and you told it to go fuck itself.”
Glen motioned to the Paris knights to take Falcon on board.
“Wait a minute.” Deliverance stopped them. “I promised this kid that he’d get to talk to the vamp if he behaved himself and stopped calling Lucy stupid.”
“Who’s Lucy?”
“Not dignifying that with an answer.”
“Which vamp does he want to talk to?” Almost immediately a wave of understanding replaced confusion on Glen’s face. “Oh.”
Deliverance opened his mouth to answer, but before he spoke, Jean Etienne popped onto the scene with Genevieve.
Falcon started to
take a step toward her, but Frederique jerked him back.
“Gen.” Falcon wanted to say more, but he was so overcome with emotion his throat closed up making swallowing hard, much less speaking. She looked different. Her skin was truly flawless. If she had pores, they were invisible. Her hair was brighter. The natural caramel highlights had turned a brighter shade of red. Her eyes weren’t the ice blue of virus infected vampire, but they weren’t brown anymore either. They were somewhere between a light hazel and amber. She almost seemed to give off light, like a visible aura, and looked more like a goddess or a human who’d been airbrushed by nature.
“Hello, Kris.”
Falcon struggled for a minute, but found his voice. “How are you?”
“I’m well. But this is more about you. For all our sakes, you need to go back to work and get on with your life. Forget about our friendship. My time in the human world is over forever, but yours is not. Go home. Know that I’m happy and making an adjustment.”
“An adjustment?”
Her smile was so glorious it almost brought him to his knees, but she also deliberately showed her very white and very pointed fangs. “I’m well cared for and learning new ways of doing things. I probably won’t see you again after this, but I wish you the very best, as I always have.” She glanced at Jean Etienne. “I hope you will allow yourself to find someone to love. Even if this hadn’t happened, it would never have been me.”
Falcon was trying to decide what to say when the vampire couple disappeared. As the knights pulled Falcon away, Deliverance said, “So long, kid.”
They boarded the plane. Glen took one last look at Deliverance before putting his foot on the first step.
“What are you going to do now?” Deliverance asked him.
Glen stopped and looked back at Rosie’s grandfather. “I’m going to get her back.”
Deliverance smiled as he watched Glen go up, but before they had pulled the steps in, he was gone.
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
Rosie decided to pay her mother a quick visit before moving into the headquarters apartment in Edinburgh.
When Litha emerged from her bedroom in the Jefferson Unit apartment, sleepy-eyed and dressed in a flannel robe, Rosie had been sitting at the kitchen table waiting for four hours.
“Tea?” Rosie asked. “The kettle’s hot.”
Litha shook her head. “Coffee.” She headed straight for the pod brewer and said nothing more until she was holding a cup of Kona blend just under her nose, smelling the aroma and letting the steam touch her face. She sat down at the table in front of Rosie and waited.
“I’m moving into the apartment at Edinburgh.”
“Oh?” Litha was deducing that meant that Paris hadn’t gone as well as she and her co-conspirators had hoped.
“Yes, but first I thought I’d stop by for a bit of orientation.”
“What do you mean?”
“Hit me with tracker tips. Tell me if the crystal came with a warranty. Stuff like that.”
“A warranty.”
“Yes. The blasted thing works when it wants to, which is seldom. Made me look like a fool at best and like I’m really bad at tracking at worst. And maybe I am.”
“What happened in Paris?”
“I was supposed to locate Falcon so that Glen could bring him back here for debriefing. The French vampire found him first.”
“I see. So how was it seeing Glen after so long?”
Rosie shrugged. “He’s changed.”
“And?”
“Not for the better.”
“I see.”
“I think I’m responsible for the change that’s not for the better. I feel guilty. And my heart hurts. I think I ruined him.”
“I see.”
“You keep saying, ‘I see’, like you’re the all-seeing eye.”
“Do not be disrespectful to your mother.”
“Okay. What else have you got in your bag of tricks for use tracking?”
“The demon crystal is usually your best friend. I showed you how to get into my magick room at headquarters. If you’re looking for something unusual, not a person or creature, you can ask ancestors on your witch side. They’ll help if they approve of the likely outcome and your motivation.
“Sometimes you have to get creative. But Rosie, you’ll be a hundred times better than I ever was. You’ve got talent off the charts.”
“If you say so.” Litha smiled. “Everybody’s mom thinks they’re the best.”
Litha shook her head. “If that was so, the world would be a better place. Sadly it’s not true. Fortunately for you, it just so happens that your mom does think you’re the best. Especially when you wear that look you’ve got right now, so much like your father.”
It never failed to make Rosie smile that her mother took so much pleasure in seeing bits of Storm reflected through her. “About the apartment in Edinburgh.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Is there anything you want? I’d kind of like to make it mine. You know?”
“Let me get dressed and I’ll go with you. There might be some photos. Stuff like that. Anything else you want to tell me about Paris?”
Rosie zeroed in on her mother, who raised her coffee cup and blinked a little too innocently as she underestimated her daughter’s deductive skills. “You didn’t.”
“What?”
Rosie slumped back and chuckled at the ceiling. “Of course. It all makes sense. Baka and Heaven making out like horny adolescents at that outrageously romantic restaurant?” Her eyes widened. “The Temple of Love? The wall of I Love Yous? The tango? Romeo and Juliet? The pink flamingo pizza?”
“Pink flamingo…?”
“Gods. Could you have been any more obvious? I guess that makes us both look pretty stupid because we didn’t figure it out, huh?”
“Well…”
“Whose idea was the suite?” Rosie held up her palm. “Wait. Let me guess. Auntie Elora.” Litha closed her mouth. “Who all was in on it?” Litha pressed her mouth into a line. Rosie’s mouth dropped open into a full-blown gape. “The crystal! How did you get the crystal to behave all wonky?”
Litha couldn’t suppress a little smile of pride. “Well…”
“You’ve been a bad, bad witch. You’re not supposed to use your gifts like that and you know it.”
“Now listen here, young lady. As far as I’m concerned, trying to give you and Glen another chance to figure out that you belong together? I can’t think of any possible use of magick that would be better.”
“Promise me that you will cease and desist.”
“All right.”
“I’m serious. No more magickal meddling in my love life. Promise!”
“I promise,” Litha grumbled.
“Gods.”
“I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”
Rosie stared at her mother for several beats before pensively saying, “Yeah.”
Falcon was allowed to return to his apartment. He was also allowed freedom to go anywhere within Jefferson Unit, but not outside. He’d been fitted with a bracelet that looked a lot like a Fitbit watch except that, it wouldn’t come off without special equipment kept under state-of-the-tech lock and key and it made Falcon easily trackable, every minute of the day, by the Sovereign, Dr. Monq, or anyone who possessed one of the tracking devices housed at the quartermaster at J.U.
“There,” said Monq when the bracelet locked around Falcon’s wrist. “There’ll be no more running about until you and I have sorted out your feelings about what’s happened and what you plan to do with the rest of your life.”
“You can’t hold me prisoner.”
“Hmmm. Well, perhaps you didn’t read the fine print of your contract with The Order. We can do exactly that, if you want to call premises-restriction ‘being held prisoner’. You’re in possession of too many secrets to go off half-cocked.”
“Say what you want, but I do have a whole cock.”
“Well,” Monq chuckled, “your sense of hu
mor is intact and that is very encouraging. The sooner you and I get started sorting out what’s going on in your head, the sooner you can get on with the rest of your life, whatever that may be. When do you want to get started?” Falcon shrugged. “Very well. Be here for dinner at seven o’clock. And don’t be late.”
The rest of K Team was glad to have Falcon back, not for active duty, but back in the sense of alive and well and living at J.U. even if temporarily. They were also concerned, but not so much so that humor was out of the question.
Wakey said, “I’ve heard the phrase ‘crazy in love’, but you’ve taken it to a whole new level of unhinged, my man. Like I keep telling you, there are more girls than you could ever do and you’re the lucky son-of-a-bitch who’s wanted by every one of them.”
Falcon was patient with his best friend and let him prattle on, but Wakey was coming from the perspective of a person who’d never been in love. In short, that meant he had no idea what he was talking about.
On the flight across the Atlantic, Glen came up with the perfect backdrop for his do-over. He devised a way to kill two birds with one stone, meaning that he would get Rosie back and take a stab at calming the ever present, underlying storm in his soul at the same time. It was brilliant even if he did think so himself.
After Glen and the French knights had turned Falcon over, Glen had gone straight to Rev’s office and asked for time off.
“We’re in the middle of a crisis,” Rev said.
“I know, but I haven’t taken leave for years. Since I’ve been a floater, I didn’t even take grief absence when there was a death. Just buried people and kept on keeping on. Since I don’t have family, I haven’t taken holiday leave either. That means I have time off coming. Actually I have a lot coming, but I’m only asking for a month. For now.”
Knights of Black Swan, Books 7-9 (Knights of Black Swan Box Set Book 3) Page 80
