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

by Victoria Danann

  Lapis looked at Rosie as if she was being indulgent. “Blood ties are important, but they’re not everything. Your young man has rejected people who love him and chosen to dwell in darkness.”

  Rosie considered the truth of that. “He did, but now he’s reaching out.”

  Lapis paused for a minute then showed Rosie a phantom-like figure of a handsome man with long braided hair and sharp intelligent eyes with a striking similarity to Glen’s. The effect was like projecting a movie onto a wall during the daytime. Rosie could see the man going about his business, but the scene was transparent enough that she could also see the background of rolling green hills behind it.

  She walked toward Rosie and whispered, “Ashenabe”, just before she faded and became part of the wind. The sound of the wind lingered for a second after Rosie’s eyes jerked open.

  “Thank you, Grandmother,” Rosie said out loud. “I don’t know which generation of grandmother you are, but thank you.”

  Rosie hastened through the ritual of undoing the circle she’d created, doused the candles, returned the floor pillow to its place, locked up, and practically ran to find Xavier in research.

  She waved to Aggie. “Don’t mind me. Just passing through,” she said as she rounded the counter and passed through the half door.

  Xavier was still at his station.

  “Oh, thank goodness, you’re here.” He didn’t bother to respond or look up. “I need you to find references to the word Ashenabe. It could be a person, place, or thing.”

  “I’m busy.”

  “Well, I know you are, but this will only take a minute.”

  “Busy means busy.”

  “Okay, Xavier, let’s make a deal.”

  That got his attention. He looked up and narrowed his eyes. “What kind of deal?”

  “What do you want?”

  “You mean like three wishes?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Pick one thing.”

  He looked around. “I want a VIP pass to Comiccon in Brussels. Hotel. Limo. The works.”

  “Done.”

  “Really?” She nodded. “How do I know I can trust you? Never mind.” He pulled an eyeball camera over, turned it on, and adjusted it so that it would record Rosie, then accessed sound studio recording software. “Now. Look at the camera and swear. Just be natural. You’ll do great.”

  Rosie shot him a look that said he was getting stranger by the second, but faced the camera.

  “I hereby promise to provide Xavier…” She looked at him, waiting for him to provide a last name.

  “Puddyphatt.”

  Rosie hesitated, but began again. “I hereby promise to provide Xavier Puddyphatt with transportation, hotel, and VIP tickets for Comiccon Brussels in exchange for useful information.”

  “Excellent,” he said as he swiveled the camera away. “What was it again? Ashenabe?”

  “Yes.”

  Xavier typed something and said, “It’s a werewolf tribe. They have a reservation in British Columbia.”

  “Werewolf tribe,” she repeated. “Yeah. That’s it! Thank you, X. You did great.”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  She paused. “You know, when people call you X, it’s because they like you and they’re trying to express fondness.”

  “I don’t like it.”

  “Okay. Later.”

  Rosie looked at her watch. It was after four. She had less than three hours to find something to wear and get ‘cleaned up’.

  Glen hadn’t indicated that it was anything more than friends having dinner, but she wanted to look her best regardless.

  She exited the passes in the London Harrods designer dresses section and practically ran right into the dress. She almost laughed out loud because it was the perfect thing and she knew Glen would love it. Just the right combination of chic and hip.

  It was a Moschino Smoking Lips mini dress, black virgin wool, with long sleeves and a figure-hugging silhouette, £365. She paired it with a Saint Laurent red leather biker jacket, £2,550, a black Saint Laurent wallet clutch, £950, and black Gianvito Rossi stiletto ankle boots, £560. It was a lot of money, but her salary was generous and with an all-bills-paid job, she could buy what she wanted. Of course, she could have just manufactured her own knocked off replicas, but Kellareal would somehow know and then she’d have to listen to the lecture about not misusing her abilities coupled with the lecture about the importance of keeping the economy flowing for the benefit of everyone.

  She visited the makeup department and found a SUQQU red lipstick that matched the reds of the jacket and dress with the added feature of glowing in the dark. Plus, she figured, you couldn’t go wrong with a lipstick brand that sounded like ‘suck you’.

  Back at the apartment she laid her purchases out on the bed and admired them while she ran a steamy bath. Glancing at the time, she remembered to use unscented products because Glen’s sensitive werewolf nose didn’t appreciate artificial scents.

  She dozed off in the tub and woke with just fifteen minutes to wrestle her wild hair into submission and get into the outfit that she hoped would make her look and feel pretty. He hadn’t said if he was picking her up at her apartment or meeting her downstairs. She didn’t have to wonder long because the door chime rang. Taking one last look in the full length mirror, she pulled open the door.

  Glen’s face made the shopping trip so much more than merely gratifying. He looked her up and down and let out a long low whistle.

  “Wow. Were you expecting somebody else?”

  Her responding blush thrilled him all the way down to the carpet because he knew she’d gone to some extra trouble. For him.

  He stepped back so she could exit, then after she closed her door, he reached down, took the red leather jacket from her hand and held it for her to put on. The gesture was such a contrast from the way she’d been treated when they were hunting for Falcon that she grinned.

  “What’s funny?” Glen asked.

  “Nothing. Well, actually. No. Nothing.”

  “Come on. What were you thinking?”

  “That I like gentleman Glen.”

  He looked over at her as they strolled down the hall toward the elevator. “I was a dick, wasn’t I?”

  She smiled. “I’d like to argue, but yes.”

  “Yeah.” He looked dejected and she felt responsible for ruining the mood.

  “Hey,” she said. “Let’s pretend that we haven’t seen each other for years. Hi, Glen. How have you been?”

  He smiled. “Lousy. Miserable. Wretched. Forlorn. Heartsick. Lonely. Bereft.”

  “That’s all?”

  “I could go on.”

  Rosie knew that he was telling the truth and that the honesty of their time apart was part of the new leaf he’d turned over. “There’s always tomorrow.”

  “Wait a minute. We haven’t gotten through tonight yet.” She laughed. “Maybe I can turn things around.”

  Rosie was stunned by that outright declaration, but it answered the question about whether dinner was a date or a business meeting.

  Glen smiled warmly and pushed the elevator button.

  “So,” she said as she stepped into the elevator, “seven is kind of early for dinner out. Does this mean you’re getting old?”

  His smile grew even warmer. “It means I have something else planned for after dinner.”

  Images sprang to Rosie’s mind. As she imagined what that might be a flush rose in her cheeks to complement the reds of the dress, jacket, and lips.

  Glen laughed. “I wasn’t thinking that, but I’m definitely receptive.”

  “So what is it we’re, um, doing after dinner?”

  “Nuh-uh. It’s a surprise.”

  “You know I’m not that into surprises.”

  “Sure you are. Everybody likes surprises when they’re good ones.”

  “And you know I’m going to think it’s a good one?”

  With hands in his pockets, he leaned into her space and gave her a conclusi
ve, “Yes.”

  Rosie was glad to see the car was waiting just outside the front entrance. In tennis shoes The Witchery would be an easy fifteen minute walk, but doing it in stiletto boots would take all the fun away.

  Glen helped her out of the car at the door to the restaurant. She heard him tell the driver that he would text a few minutes before they were ready to be picked up. Inside Rosie quickly realized that The Witchery was every bit as beautiful and magical as people said it was. As they were being shown to their table, she noticed women’s eyes lingering on Glen a few seconds too long to qualify as casual interest and she was glad she’d gone to some extra trouble to dress like it was an occasion.

  She ordered Loch Duart salmon. He ordered Cairngorm venison. They shared some truffle mac and cheese and topped it off with Tonka bean crème brulee with white chocolate palmiers.

  With Glen relaxed, open, making eye contact, and appearing emotionally engaged, they quickly fell into a rhythm of dialogue that felt familiar.

  “You look like a million bucks tonight.”

  “I’m glad you think so because that’s pretty close to what this cost,” she said, looking down at her clothes.

  “No matter how much it cost it was worth every penny.”

  “Ooh. That was extra rich and creamy smooth. Have you been practicing lines since the last time I saw you?”

  “Seriously. No. It came out that way because it’s what I really think.”

  “In that case, thank you, Sir Catch.” She mouthed the ‘Sir’.

  Conversation between them was easy. They shared their individual reactions to realizing that Paris was a set up.

  “So how did they fool the crystal?” he asked.

  Rosie cocked her head. “I was so busy trying to process the fact that so many people had thought it was okay to meddle in our business that I didn’t get the details.”

  “How many is so many?”

  Rosie laughed. “I didn’t get that either. But you know that, if Mom is up to mischief, Auntie Elora is always in the middle of it.”

  “I think his holiness, the great Reverence Farthing was in on it, too. Had to be.”

  “If he was, then add Farnsworth. It’s unlikely that Dad and Uncle Ram didn’t know, even if they didn’t participate.”

  “Deliverance. And Jean Etienne.”

  “Baka! And Heaven!”

  “Gods. What do you think made them do it?”

  “Mom said all those people thought we belong together,” Rosie answered honestly.

  Glen nodded slowly, eyes glittering. “Always liked your mom. Wise and smart. Very smart. Also crafty.” He took a sip of coffee and, noticing Rosie’s flush of embarrassment, decided to change the subject. “So. Name the best dinner you ever had in your life.”

  Rosie looked around. “This one, of course.”

  “All right.” Glen rolled his eyes. “Silk shouldn’t call the vampire killer extra rich and creamy smooth.”

  The waiter came up just as Glen said that. “Vampire killer? Like Buffy?” he gushed. “I love Buffy. This summer I’m going to California to take the Buffy tour. You know Torrance, Santa Barbara… I can’t wait. You’re Americans, right?” They both nodded. “Have you taken the Buffy tour?” Rosie and Glen both shook their heads no. “Well, you should. I hear it’s great! I own all the DVD’s. Watched them thousands of times.” He gave a small sigh before remembering where he was and recomposing himself. “I’ll be right back with your check.”

  When he left they both broke into a grin and laughed silently.

  “I don’t know why I’m laughing,” Glen said. “There’s nothing funny about vampire.”

  “No. But there’s something funny about waiters who are saving their money to travel halfway around the world for a Buffy tour.”

  “Okay. So ask me.”

  “Ask you what?”

  “Best dinner ever.”

  “What was your best dinner ever?”

  “Pink Flamingo Pizza.”

  Rosie’s eyes widened. “Why?”

  “I think that was when I first started to realize I was kidding myself about getting along without you. So, no matter what we say about all those nosy people not minding their own business, it worked. At least for me.”

  Rosie’s beautiful bow lips pulled into a captivating smile. “For me, too.”

  Throughout dinner she felt torn about whether or not to tell Glen she had information about his family and maybe a lead on someone who was still alive. She didn’t want to withhold, but she didn’t want to ruin the evening either, especially since he’d clearly gone to some trouble and had expectations, or hopes, for the way things would go.

  She’d folded the photos of Glen’s parents and put them in her purse, just in case the time felt right at some point. It was a tricky and sensitive subject.

  She watched Glen pull out his phone and text.

  “Just letting Remy know we’re ready for him.”

  “Are you ready to tell me what’s next?”

  “So impatient.”

  “Give me a hint.”

  “All right. You’re going to get a chance to work off some of that crème brulee.”

  Rosie blinked. “We’re going to a gym?”

  Glen laughed as he stood and held out his hand. “Come on.”

  Remy was standing next to the car waiting to open the door for her. They drove south on Pleasance for just over five minutes and then turned into the University of Edinburgh.

  “This is getting more mysterious by the second,” Rosie said.

  Glen chuckled. “You’re gonna love it.”

  When the car stopped, Glen said, “It’s a short distance. Over there.” He pointed toward the buildings arranged around a green in the shape of a U. She looked at the old stone walkways and looked at her heels.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “Do you have the pills?”

  “No. I can either carry you or you can meet me over there via poof travel. But first, you won’t need your purse thingy or the jacket. Remy will look after your stuff.”

  “Remy?” she said, leaning down so she could see his face.

  “Yes, madam,” he replied.

  “Are you taking responsibility for my ‘stuff’?”

  “Yes, madam.”

  She left her purse and jacket in the backseat, smiled at Glen and vanished.

  Glen made it to the spot where she waited in less than a minute.

  “So now are you going to tell me what we’re doing here?”

  He took her hand and led her into the building at her back. As they neared the doorway where Glen was obviously headed, she heard music and saw the poster. The Edinburgh Tango Society.

  She came to a full stop and grinned. “No. Way.”

  Glen returned her grin and gestured toward the door. “This. Way.”

  “Tango in Edinburgh. Nothing will ever surprise me again.” The room was large and had a wood floor. It was apparently where dance was taught at the school. “You know this dress was not chosen with tango in mind, right?”

  Glen looked down. “If I grab your thigh and hitch your knee over my hip, I’ll make sure you’re pulled tight enough that no one will see panties.”

  “What makes you think I’m wearing panties?” She giggled when he almost stumbled. “So this is why we were having early dinner?”

  “Yeah. At eight they dim the lights and the DJ starts playing musica in tandas con cortinas.”

  She looked at her watch and started to say it was eight. “It’s…” Before she finished the thought the lights went down and the sultry tones of tango began surging through the sound system like a magical audio aphrodisiac.

  “It’s not as romantic as the Seine, but…”

  “Shhh. It’s so much more romantic because this time you want to do this. With me.” She looked up. “Don’t you?”

  “Gods yes.”

  He took her right hand in his left and extended her arm then flattened his palm against her back between her shoulder b
lades. It wasn’t an erogenous zone, but between the low lights, the music, the nearness of her partner, and the musky scent that she’d known intimately as uniquely Glen, she nearly swooned.

  His face was inches away when he began to move, guiding and controlling. He brought her even closer and spoke to her in low tones, so close that she could feel his breath, sometimes on her face, sometimes in her ear, which sent her body into overdrive and meant she wasn’t having to pretend sexual intensity.

  “The tango is mostly walking, but doing it like you would if you were stalking prey, like you wanted to sneak up on them so that by the time they knew what you were after, it would be too late. Every muscle is tense while pretending laziness at the same time. It’s sexy. Sensual, but it’s also playful and vibrant.” He stopped to show her how to spin and come back to his embrace then showed her how to fall into him, trusting that he would catch her. “I will always catch you,” he whispered in her ear.

  Something about that hit a nerve. She stepped back suddenly and pushed at his chest. “You’ll always catch me? Just a few days ago you were letting doors slam in my face.”

  He dropped his chin and looked straight into her eyes. “Give me a do-over. And I’ll do the same for you.”

  She searched his face and saw the sincerity. “You better mean it.”

  “I do.”

  “Or I’ll drop you in the passes.”

  He chuckled. “I’ll be good. I promise.”

  She stepped back into him and they began to dance. “How good?”

  “If you want to find out you’re going to have to do something about all that red, red lipstick. It’s gorgeous on you, but I have a feeling it wouldn’t look that good on me.”

  “You’re saying you want to kiss me?”

  “Oh. Yeah.”

  Rosie felt everything that was capable of clenching clench in unison as a response to that declaration. She looked at his lips, remembering that he was an awesome kisser and decided that was exactly what she wanted, too.

  “You want to go?”

  “Only if we’re going to be at least this close,” he pulled her in tight, “wherever we’re going next.”

  “So you want kisses and tightness?”

  Glen narrowed his eyes. “This isn’t a demon negotiation, is it?”