Finngarick (Order of the Black Swan, D.I.T. Book 2)

by Victoria Danann

  Rosie’s interest seemed to grow even more intense. “There’s no way you could come that close without…”

  “Busy, Rosie. Limited time. Ask your question.”

  “Did you…? Do you have a plan?”

  “Partially formed because, frankly, you know a lot more than I do about how things not-of-this-world operate. I’m putting a lot of faith in the Black Swan Science Department.”

  “Monq.”

  “In short, yes. He’s known for miracles. But like a lot of geniuses, he can’t innovate to solve a problem until he knows what the problem is. In other words, you’re going to have to come up with your wish list. Figure out what you’d want if you could ask for anything. Then we’ll see how close he can come.”

  “Okay,” Rosie said thoughtfully. “But it could take time to do that. Years even.”

  “I see you don’t share my faith in the Monqster.”

  Rosie’s eyes widened. Not only was it out of character, and extremely nerdy, of Simon to refer to Thelonius Monq as the ‘Monqster’, but it made Monq more…

  “Simon. I think I’m beginning to understand you. You just made Monq seem more approachable so that I’d be able to think clearly when I meet with him.”

  Simon smiled. “Keep me posted on your progress.”

  He went back to whatever he’d been doing on his computer before she’d interrupted.

  Feeling a little energized and a little excited after her talk with Simon, Rosie forgot about Grieve’s chair and threw herself into it.

  It creaked.

  Grieve winced.

  Rosie pretended not to hear the creak or notice the wince. “He expects me to identify the problems for Monq. Kind of give him a direction, I guess?”

  “A good plan. If it’s not presumptuous, may I inquire as to what you will say?”

  Rosie slumped in the chair, then looked over her shoulder at the open door. She got up, closed the door that led to the hallway, and returned to the chair, easing down carefully. “Grieve. Can I count on confidentiality?”

  She suspected the change in Grieve’s expression was as close to surprise as she would ever see. “O’ course, madam. I would ne’er repeat what I hear or see in my capacity as assistant to the Commissioner.”

  Hearing Grieve’s self-assigned title made Rosie smile. “In that case, I’m gonna take a leap of faith and just put it all out there.”

  “Very well.”

  “I have no idea what I’m doing.”

  “In an existential sense?”

  “No. In the very real sense of being over my head in this job. I have no idea what I’m doing. You can claim credit for every step forward. Truthfully, you should be Commissioner.” Grieve cleared his throat and looked uncomfortable. “How do you feel about lighting the way for me?”

  “I accepted this position because I believe in the work.”

  “You do?”

  “Very much so. ‘Tis a noble vision if e’er was one. I’m very happy to do anything I can to assist you. You are sellin’ yourself short. There’s no one in this world capable of makin’ this work as you can. ‘Tis the other reason I accepted this position. ‘Tis an honor to work for you.”

  Rosie blinked twice and then laughed out loud. “Okay. You’re punking me now.”

  “I assure you I am no’… punking you. If some of my thoughts are useful, I’ll be very pleased for you to take credit, as that’s no’ something that particularly interests me.”

  Rosie shook her head. “I would never take credit for your work, Grieve. I just want to be sure that you’re okay with giving me guidance while you’re working for me because, in normal circumstances, it would be the other way around.”

  “Perhaps. But these are no’ normal circumstances.”

  “No.”

  “And, to a point, perhaps you have more support than you’re thinkin’. There’s the Director, myself, and there’s the fact that you keep confidence with the Sovereign of Jefferson Unit. Do no’ discount how helpful he might be. The man knows quite a lot about organization, administration, and implementation. I read that he was just a child when left in charge for the first time. A veritable savant.”

  “Depends on how you define child. He was eighteen.”

  “Just so. No small accomplishment.”

  Rosie’s chest inflated with pride in her husband until it forced a full-blown silly grin. “He is amazing. I hadn’t forgotten that. I just think maybe he’d rather think about non-work things when he’s not, um, working.”

  “You might be surprised. The man is dedicated from what I hear. Dedication is what makes gettin’ up every day worth doin’, is it no’?”

  “You know, Grieve, I’ve only known you for a couple of days, but I’ve decided I like you. A lot.” Grieve’s expression didn’t change, but he turned a delightful shade of Victorian pink. And cleared his throat. “So tell me every one of your potentially useful thoughts. Who knows? Maybe I’ll even expound on them. It’ll be like a brainstorming session. I’ve never done brainstorming, but how hard could it be? Right?”

  “Right.”

  “So lay it on me.” Grieve hesitated like he wasn’t sure how to respond to that. “That means tell me what you got. Oh, wait, you know what? We should get stocked up on supplies first. Let’s get a pot of tea and some of those dainties they make at this time of day.”

  Grieve lifted the receiver of his ‘house’ phone and dialed the kitchen. “Would you be so kind as to send a service of Earl Grey and petit fours?” Pause. He looked up at Rosie and half smiled. “Aye. Offices of D.I.T.”

  By the time the tea service arrived twenty minutes later, Rosie and Grieve were engaged in a very productive ‘brainstorming’ session.

  “Assumin’ that, as Simon says, Monq is able to produce the serum, we need to outline the goals of your unit. Do you have some thoughts about priority?”

  It surprised Rosie to realize that she actually did have some thoughts on that. “We need to try avoiding life or death situations. If we have elementals who are just getting off on fucking with us…”

  Grieve cleared his throat. “Language, madam.”

  “Indeed, Grieve.” Rosie took the gentle reprimand good-naturedly. “We don’t want to end lives unnecessarily. Or at all, really. This has been going on for a long time, if what the people in Arcane History tell me is true. So we might want to start out with a system that gives everybody a chance to change their ways.” Grieve grunted as a space filler and a means of indicating that he was listening. “So I was thinking that we need a way to issue warnings.

  “Okay. You’ve had your fun, but there’s a new sheriff in town.” She brightened. “Hey! Maybe I’d rather be called Sheriff than Commissioner. Sheriff Storm sounds good, doesn’t it?”

  “It does, madam.”

  “Okay. I’ll give that some thought. Where was I?” She looked at Grieve, but before he answered, she remembered her train of thought. “What if we had a global radar system? Like a net that covered the whole world and a means to track visitors who don’t belong here.”

  “How do you see that being accomplished?”

  “The system would look for biology that doesn’t strictly conform to Loti norms.”

  She waited for Grieve’s response.

  “Let’s say that such a creature is detected. What is D.I.T.’s response?”

  “Check it out.”

  “And?”

  “See what they’re up to?”

  “And?”

  “Why do you keep saying that?”

  “What is the deterrent?”

  Rosie looked away and sighed. “Tell them that open no-questions-asked transit and immigration is closed permanently. That, if they want to be here, they need to prove they’re adding value and not causing mischief. Or worse. If they have a good reason for coming and going, we can issue some kind of credentials.”

  That got Grieve’s interest. “Credentials for elementals? Could they no’ manufacture forgeries at will?”


  “Oh, well, yes. They could. I was using ‘credentials’ as a euphemism for tagging because elementals are not wild animals. But the principle would be the same.”

  “I’m no’ followin’.”

  “We need to tag all the elementals who are coming and going so we can begin keeping records and try to figure out who is beneficial and who needs to have their license to transit pulled permanently.”

  “By taggin’, you mean…”

  “That’s where Monq comes in. We need to permanently implant trackers that can’t be removed, each with its own uniquely identifiable signal.”

  “No easy task that.”

  “Well, everybody keeps saying Monq is a genius. Let’s find out.”

  “Hmmm. So how are you plannin’ to persuade visitors to accept these permanently implanted trackin’ devices that can no’ be removed and, I assume, will ne’er need either replacement or maintenance.”

  “We’re not going to give them a choice. They come to Loti. They get a tag.”

  “Ah.” Grieve’s head fell back as if realization had dawned. “I see. And how will the visitors be implanted with, em, tags?”

  “Forcibly.”

  “Aye. But how?”

  “I’ll accept suggestions from Monq?”

  Grieve gave her a ghost of a smile. “You’re a fast learner, madam.” Grieve was furiously, but intermittently typing notes into his desktop for reference. “I suppose you’ve considered that global monitorin’ on a twenty-four-seven basis could require a bank of personnel.”

  “I know. There’ll be no way to tell how many until we get underway. But this is Simon’s baby. He’s indicated that the funding will support what we need to get the job done.” She tapped her fingernails on the desk. “I think I like Sheriff Storm.”

  She smiled, imagining how fun it would be to insist that Glen call her Sheriff in bed. He would laugh and say, “Only if you call me Sovereign and agree to do what I say at least half the time.”

  “Madam?”

  “Hmmm?”

  “How are you plannin’ to revoke licenses to enter Loti?”

  “Haven’t got that far.”

  “So what will your hunters be asked to do?”

  “Chase down visitors. If they catch up to them, they need to accomplish two things. A tag and a talk.”

  “A talk,” Grieve said drily.

  “Yes.”

  “Am I wrong in thinkin’ that you’ll be hirin’ people more for skills as warriors than diplomats?”

  Rosie’s brow furrowed. She crossed her arms and pressed her thumb into the indentation above her upper lip. “You’re right about that. I need to give some serious thought to the hiring process. Is it harder to teach warriors to be ambassadors or to teach ambassadors to be warriors?”

  “I would guess ‘twould be harder to teach ambassadors martial arts.”

  Rosie nodded. “That’s what I think, too. I’ve known warriors who became excellent negotiators. Still, it’s good to know that I’m looking for people with a range of skill sets.”

  “Just so.”

  “When I find the right people, we’re going to have to set up training. Training camp. We’re going to want to include diplomacy. Honestly, with elementals, I don’t think diplomacy will work. Um, ever. But it’ll make me feel better to know we tried.” She looked at her watch. “What time is my meeting with Monq?”

  “He has you scheduled for lunch in his study at… five minutes from now.”

  “Thanks for helping me get some clarity so I don’t sound like an idiot.”

  “That would be quite impossible, madam.”

  “In all your spare time, will you start thinking about training camp? I need a secluded place with sleeping quarters and a big enough dining room for everybody to eat together.”

  “How many are we anticipatin’?”

  “I’m hoping to find twelve hunters. Add myself, somebody to teach ballet, somebody to run Elora-style workouts, somebody to teach diplomacy, and people to clean, cook, launder, that sort of thing.”

  “Very well, madam.”

  “I have no ideas for Monq as far as how to help my hunters defend themselves against elementals.”

  “What would you say is the primary issue?”

  Rosie thought for a minute. “That elementals can avoid a confrontation by simply disappearing?”

  Grieve nodded slightly. “I concur. What are elementals made of?”

  “Pardon?”

  “Composition. For example, I’m flesh, bone, blood, air and a few ounces of chemicals.”

  “Oh. I see what you mean. This is hard to explain. Elementals are more principle than substance. They exist as non-physical beings unless they want to present themselves as physical. The saving grace for us is that they have to take physical form to move around, communicate, influence… more or less everything they’d want to do. But they could lay low as vapor if they chose to.”

  Grieve looked worried. “When mortals go to war with gods, the outcome doesn’t favor us.”

  Rosie raised her chin. “We need to make the gods more mortal and make the mortals more invincible.”

  Grieve’s mouth might have moved a centimeter toward a smile. It was hard to tell. “Two questions come to mind. When they take on physical form, can they be harmed? Could they be trapped?”

  “Yes to the first. They can be harmed, but are pretty much impossible to kill. They’re not immortal per se, but they live a long time. Comparatively. Could they be trapped? That would solve a lot of problems. If they could be contained, whether in physical or vapor form, they couldn’t avoid conversation.”

  “’Twould be a way to give your hunters a fightin’ chance. O’ course, if I understand the function of the unit, elementals may no’ be the only pursuit.”

  “That’s true. There are other possibilities. One step at a time?”

  “You’ve laid the groundwork for innovation and development that could result in happy surprises. You have a lot to discuss with Dr. Monq.”

  “I’ll give it a try. Guess I’d better get going. Hold down the fort and I’ll see you tomorrow. Same time. Same place.”

  “I shall be eager to hear the outcome of your talk.”

  Monq served Rosie pretty Frenched lamb with au gratin potatoes and steamed spinach.

  “You know the last time I dined with you in your study, you were playing matchmaker.”

  “It’s not really matchmaking when the couple is fated to be together and desperately in love.”

  Rosie laughed softly as Monq poured wine. “You make us sound like Romeo and Juliet.”

  “With a better ending.”

  “Well, there’s that. It’s dinner for me so I don’t feel decadent drinking heady red wine with a hint,” she sniffed, “of lavender. But you should.”

  Monq laughed. “Few things could make me feel decadent. But regardless, I’m just pretending to drink. The point is to loosen you up so you relax and tell me everything I want to know without hesitation. That’s how I keep up on my Black Swan gossip. I ply guests with delectable dining and obscenely expensive wine.”

  “I’m honored, but I really don’t have many secrets worth a bottle of wine like this one.”

  Monq gave her a knowing smile. “Maybe you don’t. But how about that husband of yours? He knows everything that goes on around here and I’d bet dimes to dollars that the juicy stuff gets shared.”

  “Until now, I honestly didn’t know that he was in possession of juicy stuff to share. He’s been holding out on me! I’m sure he’s going to appreciate that oversight and want to reward you for bringing it to my attention.”

  Monq’s eyes narrowed. “Sly.” He sighed. “So what is it you need?”

  “Lots of things.”

  “At least you’re honest. Most people try to ease me into their visions by starting slow.”

  “No time for slow. Simon is driving this project and has it in his head that it should have been up and running, full tilt, as of yesterday.�
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  “I see. Well, hopefully it will be more interesting.”

  “What do you know about the project?”

  “I know what you just said, that Simon is behind it and that he seems to have a personal stake. He ordered us to figure out the serum thing. Which we’re doing.”

  Rosie perked up. “Does that mean it’s a done deal?”

  Monq cocked his head. “There’s little you could dream up that we can’t improvise our way to. A permanent correction to the vampire virus is one of those things. For now.”

  “I’ve got so much juicy stuff for you to work on.” She stole the word juicy and repeated it, hoping it would help get the desired reaction. “It’s going to stimulate you in all the right places and make you glad you wanted to be a scientist when you were a little boy.”

  “I wanted to be a cowpoke when I was little.”

  Rosie laughed. “It’s a good thing you changed your mind ‘cause they drink rotgut, not thousand dollar bottles of wine.”

  “Hoo doggie.”

  “You know, normally your eccentricity is endearing. But don’t say ‘hoo doggie’ again. It’s creepy and makes you sound like a perv.”

  He shrugged as he carefully dipped a bite of lamb in mint sauce. “So we’re burning daylight.”

  “Burning daylight,” she said drily. “Monq, you work in Sublevel 3.”

  “I know,” he smiled as he chewed. “But it sounds better than saying, ‘Hurry up, I have other things to do’.”

  By the time crème brulee and coffee were served, Rosie had verbally sketched out her ideas. Monq had asked a few questions and recorded verbal notes to a handheld recording device.

  He sat back, steepled his fingers, and pursed his lips.

  “I don’t know how to read what you’re doing there,” Rosie said. “Does this body language mean ‘piece of cake’ or ‘can’t be done’?”

  “What’s my timeframe again?”

  “Right now I’m hiring. At least, best case scenario, that’s what I would be doing if I wasn’t here. Let’s say finding the right people and getting them to say, ‘Yes. I’m in,’ takes three weeks? Then we’re going to need at least a month to train and have people begin to bond with partners. But the last ten days of that month should be spent learning to use the tools you come up with. So forty days, give or take?”