by Lynn Viehl
“Don’t concern yourself. It was only a small error.” He walked over and put his arm around the man’s thin shoulders to guide him into the trees. “I’m certain whoever bribed you to lie to me will still pay whatever he promised, as long as I allow you to live to collect it. Keep walking.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but you’re wrong.” The surveyor stopped and tried to shrug off Pájaro’s arm. “I have to get back to my office.”
“And so you will.” He released him and took out his straight razor, turning it to catch a beam of sunlight. “Tell me where it is, and I will let you go. Lie to me again, and you lose an eye.”
“Why ya be taking dis mon back in da trees?” a friendly voice asked.
Pájaro eyed the light-skinned laborer whose dreadlocks obscured most of his face. “Go back with the others and wait.”
“I take dis good brudda with me.” The laborer walked in front of Pájaro and clapped the surveyor on the shoulder. “De spot to dig, you show us, yeah?”
“Yes.” The trembling man sounded dazed. “I’ll show you.”
Pájaro looked into the laborer’s bloodshot gray eyes, but saw only the haze of drugs and ignorance. The reek of cannabis coming from the man turned his stomach. “Good.” He tucked the razor back into his sleeve. “Make it quick.”
The laborer grinned. “It will be, boss.”
Gabriel emerged from the back cabin and sat across from Korvel, placing a bottle of bloodwine and two glasses on the table between them. “You’ve not rested since we left Marseilles.”
“I can sleep when it’s done.” He glanced up from the financial records he was reading. “How is your lady?”
“She seems fully recovered, but I sense that something still plagues her.” He filled both glasses and handed one to Korvel. “I want to know who did this to her, Captain.”
The Kyn lord’s wording made him frown. “You believe that one of us used talent against her?”
“I don’t know what to think.” Gabriel stared down at his glass. “Nicola’s sensitivity to the Kyn is profound. If an enemy can use her ability as a conduit into her mind, as a means to control her, she will never be safe.”
“Most Kyn don’t possess abilities that allow them to exercise influence over other Kyn. Richard, Lucan, and some of the modern mortal women who were changed are the only exceptions.” He thought of the reports Cyprien had sent to Richard after his initial meeting with the Kyndred in New York. “These mortals whom the Brethren meddled with are powerful, and they were engineered to be our adversaries. We know a few, like the brother of Valentin’s lady, were taken and trained by the order to serve as field operatives. It could be one of them.”
“It’s not the Kyndred,” Nicola said as she joined them. “Whatever got in my head felt like the Kyn, but I don’t think it was one of us or them. It felt strange. Older. Ancient.”
Gabriel leveled a direct look at Korvel. “I want that fucking scroll destroyed.”
“Baby.” Nicola put a hand to her cheek. “Such language.”
The attendant came out of the front cabin to inform them that they would be landing in a few minutes.
Korvel reached to switch off his laptop when he saw the new e-mail icon flashing, and accessed his in-box. The new message came from an unknown sender, but the subject line read, Derien Estate Winter Cove Runaway Bay Jamaica. As soon as he opened the e-mail, code began scrolling across the screen, which abruptly went blank as the computer shut down. When he restarted it, the laptop remained inert.
“Let me have a look at it.” Nicola turned the laptop toward her and tapped on a few keys before she rested her hand on top of them. “You just got hit with the mother of all viruses. Your hard drive is completely fried.”
Korvel told them about the strange e-mail. “Why would someone send me the exact information I needed and then destroy my computer immediately after I read it?”
“He doesn’t want you to trace it back to him. Seems like someone wants to help, but doesn’t want us to know who he is, where he is, or why he’s doing it.” Nicola went to retrieve the in-flight phone and dialed a number. “Benny? C’est moi. Yeah, well, I’m between countries at the moment. I need you to pull up a property listing in Jamaica.”
Korvel paced the cabin as Nicola spoke to her contact, stopping only when she ended the call. “What is it?”
“Winter Cove is listed as a private residence. There’s a house, a couple acres of woods, and three miles of beach.” When he started to speak, she held up a hand. “One more thing. It’s not the Derien estate. It’s owned by a Christopher Black. I’ll give you three guesses what his name is in French.”
Korvel didn’t have to guess. “Cristophe Noir.”
Simone tucked Jamar’s business card in her pocket and waved to him before she went to the security gates and input the date of her birth on the keypad. The locks grated as they disengaged and the gates opened.
She didn’t stop walking toward the house until she spotted the first of five sedans parked around the fountain. Her father had never explained the arrangements he had made to safeguard his house on the island, so it was possible the cars belonged to his security guards. Only the prominent rental company stickers suggested otherwise.
Before she came within sight of the windows she circled around the house, noting the lights that shone in the kitchen and several of the second-floor rooms. She drew closer, moving behind a row of azaleas to glance inside an open window.
“You tromp like a cow, Quatorze.” The man who stood just inside folded his arms. “We could hear you as soon as you stepped off the drive.”
Simone stared into the twinkling brown eyes of the man inside her house. He had a Swiss accent, and his face was unfamiliar, but the eyes…“Seize?”
He glanced over his shoulder. “Good news. She can still count.” In one fluid move he jumped through the window and landed beside her. “I have been waiting to do this for fifteen years.”
Simone found herself in a tight hug. “How are you here? But you…I thought he—”
“Killed me?” Seize drew back. “No. Although while I was at the damned château he certainly made me wish I was dead.” He took her hand. “Come inside. The others are waiting.”
“Others?” she echoed weakly as she followed him to the back door.
“Not all of us could come,” he admitted. “Dix’s wife is ready to give birth any second, and Trente broke his leg last month on the slopes. I told him slalom skiing is only for the mentally ill, but does he listen to me? No.”
She understood when she stepped inside and saw the seven men sitting around a table piled with weapons. One who was covered in tattoos and wore his white-blond hair spiked pitched a throwing blade at her, which she caught reflexively before she spotted the crescent scar dividing his right eyebrow. “Vingt?”
The Dutchman grinned. “I told you she wouldn’t forget the important things. Fuck, you grew up gorgeous, too.”
Simone handed the blade to Seize before she went to Vingt. His grin faded as he looked up at her face.
“I’m not a ghost, beautiful,” he said gently. “Stop looking at me like I am.”
“I thought you were…” She stopped and reached out, almost touching the scar above his eye before pressing her hand to her mouth. She looked at all the faces around her, every one invoking memories she had tried so hard to bury deep. Overwhelmed, she started shaking her head. “No. Not all of you. I thought…He made me think…”
“We’re real.” Vingt stood and folded her into his arms. “Now don’t faint,” he murmured, “or everyone will think you’re a girl.”
That made her laugh instead of weep. “I am a girl.”
“Yeah, but you’re not a pussy.” To the man standing by the stove, he said, “Told you she’d be a goddess, Quarante. You owe me twenty.”
The burly man arranging cups on the counter sniffed. “Then you’ll have to make your own damn tea, Metal Head.”
“Quiet.” The oldest man among the
m, a tall, dignified Belgian with the beginnings of silver showing at his temples, slapped Vingt in the back of the head before he stood and came to her. “You need a haircut, little sister.”
“Cinq.” Of all the boys she had trained with, only he had come close to defeating her in the sparring room. He had also been her best friend and closest confidant. Once more she scanned the faces of the other men. “How did you know I would be here? Why are you here?”
“We all received the same message: ‘The frost has ended, and so the harvest must begin,’” Cinq said. “Your father made us promise that when it did, we would gather here.”
“I was in the middle of an American tour when the telegram arrived,” Vingt grumbled. “I thought my manager would have a fucking stroke.”
“My wedding is in three weeks,” Seize told him. “Assuming my fiancée hasn’t called it off by now.”
“Oh, stop whining,” Quarante said as he went over to turn off the whistling teakettle. “I had to quit my job. How many companies do you know that are hiring aerodynamic engineers?”
Simone’s head began to whirl. “But all these years—why didn’t any of you come back? Why didn’t you let me know you were alive?”
“The old bastard sent us off to boarding schools,” Vingt told her. “Of course, after spending a year at the château having my ass kicked by you, little girl, it felt like an extended vacation.”
Seize touched her shoulder. “We all remained friends over the years, but your father made each of us promise never to return to France in order to see you or contact you. He said if we tried, he would kill us.”
Cinq nodded at her wide-eyed look. “In return for our promise to stay away, he paid for all of us to go to university and set us up with new lives.” His mouth curled. “Believe it or not, I’m an investment banker.”
“I play lead guitar for Icepick,” Vingt put in. “I brought a copy of our latest album for you.”
“Don’t listen to it.” Quarante brought her a cup of tea. “Unless you want go deaf in one sitting. It’s heavy metal.”
“I think sitting is a good idea.” Cinq ushered her over to the table, where Simone sat down and numbly sipped the hot, sweet tea. “What did he tell you about us?”
“Nothing. After we fought in the trials, he had me beaten and locked me up. The next day you were gone.” She looked at each man’s face. “I thought he had killed you because I wouldn’t.”
“Derien’s dead, isn’t he? That’s why we received the summons. Why you came in his place.” When she nodded, Vingt released a long breath. “Fuck me. Now I have to go back to church.”
“What have you been doing all these years, Quatorze?” Cinq asked. “Surely not still training.”
“My father died ten years ago,” she said. “Since his death I have been working as a housemaid in a convent.”
Vingt looked horrified. “Oh, when this is over you are definitely coming back to America with me.”
Simone smiled at him before she looked at Cinq. “Why did my father make you promise to come here?”
“We’re here because we belong to you, Quatorze,” he said. “We’re your garrison.”
At that moment four men came into the kitchen, led by a massive German with a bald head and a black goatee.
Simone recognized him by the lobe missing from his left ear. “Neuf.”
“Look who is all grown-up now.” He bent to give her a quick affectionate hug before he spoke to Cinq. “Some men are down on the beach. A Spaniard with a bad temper has them digging. He’s calling himself Helada, but his voice reminds me of that little bastard Pájaro. You remember, the one who tried to hurt Quatorze before he ran away from the château.”
“Huh. The old man always said the cowardly shit drowned himself.” Vingt picked up a blade from the table and tested the edge before he patted Simone’s hand. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll take him for another swim.”
“I’m afraid this is my fight, brother.” She examined the weapons on the table before she selected two fighting knives. “There will be others coming,” she told the men. “I need you in three squads to form a perimeter around the dig. Stay out of sight, keep watch, and don’t let anyone interfere. Seize, Neuf, Vingt, you will lead the squads. Cinq, you’re to shadow me.”
“I never thought I’d get the chance to see you fight again.” Vingt grinned as he stood. “This is going to be fucking amazing.”
The men dispersed from the kitchen, leaving Cinq and Simone alone.
“I am glad your father is dead,” he said quietly. “What he did to you was unforgivable.”
“Allowing me to believe that all of you were dead was the worst of it. But now…I don’t know what to think.” Simone carried her cup over to the sink. “I fought the handlers all night after your trial, Cinq. They finally had to drug me to take me down.”
“You thought I was dead,” he suggested. “You needed to mourn.”
“I wanted to die with you.” She leaned back against the counter. “I wouldn’t go back to training after he took you away. I wouldn’t eat or even get out of bed. So to persuade me to return to training, my father began bringing the boys to my room and having them beaten in front of me. That was how Neuf lost this.” She touched her left earlobe. “The handler’s whip severed it.”
“He never speaks of it,” Cinq said. “But I know he doesn’t blame you for it. None of us do. We all carry scars of the past, but now most of us are quite happy.”
“How can you be, after what my father did to you?”
“We chose to be, sister,” Cinq said gently. “When I’m not shuffling funds for my clients, my wife and I grow roses. Vingt likes to scream at crowded arenas and chase skirts all over the world. Neuf is a pediatrician in Hamburg.” He nodded at the startled look she gave him. “Oh, yes. I’ve visited his clinic. His little patients adore him.”
Simone couldn’t forgive her father for the heartless brutality he had inflicted, but knowing what he had done for her brothers made the burden of his legacy a little easier for her to bear. At least they had normal lives. “I’m glad you’ve given up fighting.”
“We haven’t.” His expression grew wry. “We maintain our own workout routines at home, but all of us meet twice a year to train together as a garrison.”
“You’re not a garrison. You’re my family.” She pressed her lips together and blinked. “I can’t believe you’re all still alive. I’ve missed you so much.”
He came over and put his arm around her shoulders. “Now you should tell me the rest.”
“Pájaro stole the Scroll of Falkonera from my father’s château.” She gave him a brief description of the events that had led to her coming to Jamaica before she added, “He had the scroll in his possession until he left France yesterday. I think he must have handled it several times.”
Cinq, who had witnessed what had happened to one of the handlers who had tried to steal the scroll, shook his head. “You don’t have to fight him, Quatorze. From what Neuf described, he’s already dying.”
“I’m not here to fight Pájaro.” She turned and sorted through one of the drawers until she produced a pair of scissors. “I came just as you did. Because in exchange for my freedom, I swore that I would.”
“I know we are here to defend you,” Cinq said. “What did he demand of you?”
“I promised him that Helada would never die,” she said as she handed him the scissors. “Now, if you would, brother, please cut off my hair.”
Chapter 20
K
orvel got out of the car and walked up to the gates of Winter Cove. He could smell Simone in the air everywhere here, as if the tropics had made her bloom. He tried the intercom first, and then opened the gates by wrenching them apart and pushing them aside.
“She’s close,” Nicola told him when he got back into the car. “So are a bunch of other humans, and something that feels like the scroll.”
“You are not to touch anything,” Gabriel told her. “In fac
t, you are to stay in the car. With the doors locked.”
“In case you forgot”—she turned around and braced her arms on the top of the seat—“you need me to find her. No, Captain,” she said to Korvel. “Not the house. Other way. She’s near the water.”
Korvel drove as far as he could in the car, and then stopped it when they reached an impassible grove of palm trees interlaced with enormous backlit cobwebs. Beyond the glinting threads he could see shadows moving and torches burning.
Nicola leaned forward. “Holy cow. Some of those webs are like ten feet tall.”
“You should remain in the car,” Korvel said as he and Gabriel got out. “My lord, I will scout ahead.”
“We work together, Captain.” Gabriel eyed his sygkenis as she joined them. “What happened to your aversion to spiders?”
“I got over it. Plus, three Kyn are better than two, baby.” She focused on the area ahead of them. “About thirty guys are hiding in the trees and the brush. There’s another group of humans headed our way, maybe a dozen, but they won’t be here for a while. They’re on foot, about four miles west.”
Korvel assessed their options. “We’ll have to go around.”
“Wait.” Gabriel’s eyes began to glow. “I can clear out the mortals in the grove.”
“And who’s going to help you do that?” Nicola eyed the webs overhead. “The spiders?”
“No.” He smiled a little. “The sand fleas.”
Korvel watched as the speck-size insects began hopping up through the grass toward the hidden men. “They are harmless.”
“Yeah, but their bites itch like a bad Brazilian wax,” Nicola told him.
Within a few seconds men began dancing in and out of the trees, scratching at their arms and legs. Korvel advanced along with Gabriel as the Kyn lord created an open corridor through the swarming fleas, and made it through the grove unscathed.
Down on the beach a woman walked toward the deep pit that had been excavated in the sand. At first Korvel didn’t recognize her with her hair shorn so close to her scalp, but as she stepped into the torchlight he saw the serene, pale features and the tilt of her eyes.
