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

by Victoria Danann

  “Okay. Let’s go.”

  Apparently the O’Malleys were a large family, but in order to accommodate Liam, Ram, Rosie, the twins, their parents, and the oldest brother, other family members had been sent to have lunch with other families.

  The rectangular table sat in the middle of the kitchen, three chairs on either side, and one at each end. They indicated that they’d like the mayor to take a chair at one end and pulled out the chair at the other end for the prince. Rosie sat to Ram’s right across from the twins.

  The girls were stunning. Their hair was a value of red almost as unusual as Elora’s, dark and bright at the same time. Their freckles somehow enhanced rather than detracted from their beauty. Set into regular features that were resolute, but comely were inescapably intelligent brown eyes.

  As Mrs. O’Malley served soup with a smile, Rosie looked for a way to tell the twins apart. She couldn’t find any.

  When Mrs. O’Malley ladled soup into her bowl, Rosie turned and said, “If it wouldn’t be rude to ask, how do you know which is Sheridan and which is Shivaun?”

  One of the twins snorted, but on receiving a visual reprimand from everyone at the table, stared down at the soup in her bowl.

  Mrs. O’Malley took a seat next to Rosie, still smiling. She had the same coloring as the girls, who favored her features as well, but she seemed much more congenial. “It took some time after they were born,” she began, “but I began to notice little differences. Shivaun has to have her way and often shows it right there on her face.”

  “You mean like determination?” Rosie asked.

  “Oh, aye. She’s determined alright.” Mrs. O’Malley chuckled like she was having a good time. The twins looked at their mother like she was a traitor. “Sheridan is quieter. Does no’ rile so easy. If one of them is in a snit, ‘tis bound to be Shivaun.”

  Proving that what Mrs. O’Malley said was absolutely true, Shivaun huffed, released her spoon so that it clanked in the bowl, and glared at her mother.

  Rosie turned to the twins. “Have you ever been apart?”

  The girls exchanged a look that could be interpreted as having decided the prince’s guest was daft. They looked back at Rosie in unison and shook their heads.

  “I understand you’re both good with a bow,” Rosie said.

  Their brother spoke up. “’Tis understated, miss. There may ne’er have been any better.” The twins’ older brother looked like a male version of them. Taller, with masculine features and musculature, but every bit as beautiful as his sisters.

  Rosie smiled. “Not even William Tell?”

  Call O’Malley looked uncertain.

  Ram said, “’Tis a legend about an archer who was forced by a bad king to shoot through an apple restin’ atop his child’s head in a single draw of the bow. If he refused they would both die. If he missed, they would both die.”

  “What happened?” all the O’Malleys asked at once.

  “He was successful,” said Ram. “Which is why Ms. Storm mentioned him. When people in the world outside think of archers, he’s the one who comes to mind.”

  Shivaun looked at Rosie, raised her chin and said, “I’m sure we’re better.”

  Rosie barely choked off a laugh and covered it by pretending to cough. “You alright?” Ram said.

  She nodded. “Perfect.”

  The family asked Rammel various questions about his son, the king of Irish elves, and about the state of the world outside the New Forest.

  “’Tis no’ for the faint of heart,” Ram told them. “There are dangers and complexities that make your corner of the world seem like a good dream.”

  That satisfied the family so that, when Liam stood and thanked them for lunch, they knew it was their cue to leave Ram and Rosie alone with the twins.

  It took an hour, which was less than Rosie might have expected, to explain about the nature of Black Swan and D.I.T. It might have taken months had it not been for the fact that the prince was there to assure them that everything being said was true.

  At length, they’d reached the moment of truth, which was punctuated by the question Rosie had come to ask. “So. Are you interested?”

  Sheridan turned to Shivaun. Then Rammel and Rosie looked on while the girls seemed to be engaged in a wordless conversation.

  “Are we working with you?” Shivaun directed the question to Ram.

  “Elora and I will be involved in trainin’ for…”

  “A few weeks,” Rosie supplied.

  “After that? No.” When that answer seemed to disgruntle the girls, Ram said, “Is that a problem?”

  Shivaun raised her chin. “We know you. We do no’ know her.”

  Rosie was thinking that, if she ended up with the mysterious O’Malley twins, she would, at least, always know where they stood. Ram was thinking their response was rude.

  “Perhaps I should have mentioned that this young woman seated next to me is my niece by friendship. She means the world to me and I will no’ have her disrespected.”

  The girls’ expressions changed from defiant to contrite quicker than Rosie would have thought possible. “We apologize,” Sheridan said to Rosie. “Offense was no’ intended.”

  “I’m not thin-skinned,” said Rosie. “So let me be blunt as well. When I asked if you were interested, I meant to inquire as to whether or not you want to begin the process of interviewing to serve with my unit. I’m not here to make an offer of employment. It’s not nearly as easy as that. There are challenges between here and there that you haven’t yet imagined.

  “First, there’s an interview process that all Black Swan personnel undergo that has nothing to do with me. It involves pledges of secrecy and loyalty and the like. You would have to pass through that door before you even begin your interview with me. I would put you through a number of tests of intelligence, athleticism, and character. But it doesn’t stop there.

  “The people eventually chosen for D.I.T. will also have to be quick-witted in tight spots. They will need to be creative and resourceful when the situation calls for that. They will need to have cool heads and be diplomats when the situation calls for that.

  “Your handicap, should you decide to try out for the job, is that you haven’t had experience in the outer world. You have to decide if you think you’re up to the adjustments that would be required to function in the modern world.

  “I’m looking for extraordinary people. And I won’t make a final decision on who will be hired until we begin training camp. Being able to get along with other team members will figure into my final choices.

  “I’m going to step outside and wander around your beautiful town for a few minutes. If you have questions you can ask the prince if you wish, but when I return in, say fifteen minutes, I will need an answer. Those who will be chosen for my unit will rarely have the luxury of mulling things over. You have to be able to make decisions fast.

  “This is an opportunity. I don’t have any way of knowing if it’s right for you or wrong. I only know that it’s knocking at your door now. One time offer.

  “No one will think less of you if you choose to remain sequestered from the world. But if you decide to be instrumental in saving your world from intrusion by those who don’t belong here, you can let me know when I get back.

  “By the way, if you make it all the way through and are selected, you will be reporting to me. I’ll be your commander in title and in fact.”

  Rosie noticed Ram’s gaze flick in her direction and light up with the famous Hawking twinkle.

  Villagers looked at Rosie with curiosity as she passed, but all smiled and said hello. She understood why Ram loved the place. It was like an amusement park for historians.

  Fifteen minutes later she let herself into the O’Malley house and found the kitchen on her own. She stood in the doorway. “Well?”

  “We’re in.” Shivaun nodded.

  “Commander,” Sheridan added with a smile.

  Rosie glanced at Ram and didn’t try to hide t
he fact that she looked pleased. She’d just begun the recruiting phase of D.I.T. with a success. At least she hoped it turned out that way.

  “Excellent.” To Ram, she said, “Training camp starts in three weeks. How much time do they need to acclimate to the outside world?”

  To the twins he said, “When can you be ready to go?”

  The girls looked at each other for a brief wordless talk then said, “Tomorrow.”

  Ram chuckled. To Rosie he said, “Two weeks six days.”

  “I’ll have my assistant prepare for their arrival,” Rosie said.

  “I’ll bring them myself. We’ll pick them up with a whister day after tomorrow and fly straight to Edinburgh.”

  The twins’ eyes got huge. “Fly?”

  Ram put on his best reassuring manner. “You’ll like it. Trust me.” He winked at Rosie. “Let’s go get the outside world ready for the redheads.”

  On the outside of the gate, Rosie looked at Ram and said, “If this works out, I’m going to owe you.”

  “You will no’ owe me a thing.” He leaned toward her a little and added, “Commander,” in a teasing way.

  “Joke about it now if you want, but when you show up for training camp, I’ll be Commander Storm to you, too.”

  He clicked his heels and saluted. “You know I’m all about conforming to the whims of authority. There’s little to fear from me.”

  “What I need to hear is that there’s nothing to fear from you.”

  He walked off toward the Ferrari laughing.

  “Don’t you laugh at me, Instructor Hawking.”

  That, of course, made him laugh harder.

  Rosie burst into the conference room with a sack full of powdered sugar donuts. “Guess what, Grieve?”

  He looked up from the stack of files that had been sorted into five stacks while Rosie was gone to Black on Tarry. “Welcome back, madam.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “That is not what you’re supposed to say. You’re supposed to say, ‘What?’ Simple. Easy. One word.”

  The way Grieve blinked on the other side of thick glasses made it look like he did it in slow motion. “Very well, madam.” Rosie waited. When nothing was forthcoming, she spread her hands in the air. Grieve finally got the hint. “Oh, ah… what?”

  “I scored on the first recruiting pitch!”

  “Congratulations?”

  “Congratu-dang-lations indeed! This is huge, Grieve. It means we’re on the way to being a real thing.”

  “Real thing?” Grieve was clearly confused. “Are we no’ a real, em, thing now?”

  “Well, no. Up until now, we’ve been kind of playing at being a real thing. This means that actual people believe we can do this.”

  “I see. You require external recognition.”

  Rosie pulled her chin in. “Well, duh, Grieve. Doesn’t everybody?”

  He shook his head slightly. “No. I do no’ think so.”

  “Okay. Next you’re going to imply that I have low self-esteem.”

  He shook his head more. “I assure you, I was no’ goin’ to imply any such thing, madam.”

  “Sure you were. I could see where this was going. Let me just stop you right there. There’s nothing wrong with my self-esteem.”

  “I do no’ doubt that.”

  “Not just any woman would be comfortable being called Commander.”

  “No. O’ course no’.”

  “I, on the other hand, am loving it. Every syllable.”

  “As you should.”

  “Now.” She held out the sack. “Would you like a powdered donut?”

  Reluctantly Grieve looked into the sack. “No thank you. I prefer no’ wearin’ white powder the rest of the day.”

  She wiggled her head. “Clearly you don’t know what you’re missing or you wouldn’t mind a little white powder. Now tell me about these stacks. Are you just screwing around or is there a method here?”

  Grieve’s first reaction was to gape, but he was quickly learning not to take Elora Rose too seriously. So he decided to ignore the ‘screwing around’ comment and go directly to the meat of the question.

  “’Tis a screenin’ process that could be called a method.” He pointed to each stack in turn as he explained. “These are the candidates that most closely match the criteria you specified. These are people who deserve a look even though they lack some bit of experience or trait that was on your, em, wish list. These are people of last resort.”

  “What about these two stacks in the middle?”

  “Those are the ones that should be reviewed by you because they’re borderline.”

  “Too close for you to call?”

  “Exactly, madam.”

  “Got it. Should I start with the definite yes files or the uncertain files?”

  “That must be up to you, madam.” Rosie looked at the stacks. “If you’d like to get started, I’ll go check on the progress bein’ made with the offices.”

  “Okay.” Rosie reached out to touch the stack of yes files, but looked up when Grieve had more to say.

  “Other than the scoutin’ done in Ireland this mornin’, all these people are either Black Swan employees or early retirees.”

  That got her interest. “Early retirees?”

  “Aye. Mostly vampire hunters who lost partners or teammates and chose to retire. ‘Twas Simon’s idea, I think. They might be interested in some pursuit that would allow them to utilize their trainin’, but would no’ be about vampire.”

  “Interesting.” She drew the word out to indicate that she really meant it. “Ex vampire hunters would be… Well, under the right circumstances, they might be perfect for this.”

  “Indeed.”

  “Hey. Would you bring me an Orangeade when you come back?”

  “O’ course, madam.” He hesitated at the door. “What is it?”

  “It’s a drink, silly.” She looked around and saw that there was a house phone in the room. “See? I’m already relying on you way too much. There’s no reason why I can’t call myself.”

  “If you’re sure…”

  “Run along. I got this.”

  Rosie spent the rest of the day reading through files and organizing a list of possible recruits in order of preference. She called the library to come get the folders at the end of the day to lock up in the vault.

  When the librarian arrived, she said, “Don’t get these out of order.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” the librarian said dutifully.

  Grieve stopped in at the opportune moment. “Will we be back in our office tomorrow?”

  “Aye,” he said.

  “Deliver them to the D.I.T. office in the morning at whatever time Grieve says.”

  “Seven o’clock,” Grieve offered.

  The librarian took the files and disappeared.

  “I’m taking this list home with me tonight. I’m going to go over it again with my notes. Then tomorrow morning we can start finding out who may be interested.”

  “Very good, madam.”

  “Okay then. Good day’s work. I’m outta here.”

  “Good night then.”

  “Adios.”

  Rosie never let Glen get a word in edgewise over dinner. She recounted the whole tale of the wild twins and the files of potential D.I.T. hunters.

  “I’ve never seen you so excited,” Glen chuckled.

  “You forgot to call me Commander.”

  “In your dreams.”

  “Seriously. I’ve got this list of people. Maybe you’ve run into some of them. If I read you the list, will you give me your impressions?”

  “Sure. I guess. Doesn’t break any rules that I know of.”

  She read the list out loud. “Don’t think it’s escaped my notice that the only women on the list are the two I met with today.”

  “There’s a reason why Elora was, is, the first female vampire hunter. Few women have the speed and strength that it…”

  “Oh for gods’ sake, Glen. Don’t give me the party li
ne about men being bigger, badder, better. Blah. Blah. Blah.”

  “Rosie. It’s not blah, blah, blah if it’s true. Women aren’t strong enough to fight vampire. Unless they happen to come from another dimension with superhuman abilities.”

  “I guess I never realized I’m married to a sexist.”

  “What?!? It’s not sexist to say that the strongest, fastest men are stronger and faster than the strongest, fastest women. I’m not trying to toot my horn, if that’s what you’re implying. It’s a fact.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Women are smarter. I noticed you didn’t say anything about that.”

  “I might have to give you that one.”

  “We’re also more fun in bed.”

  “Since when do you not think I’m fun in bed?” he half growled.

  “I might have thought that once, but it’s hard to remember.”

  “So you’re needing a reminder?”

  She smiled coyly. “Maybe. I was thinking I need a strong reminder fast.”

  He laughed out loud. “I might have what you’re looking for, Commander.”

  The next morning, Rosie found Grieve hard at work at seven o’clock when she arrived.

  She said good morning then stepped through the annex door to take a look at the new offices. She was surprised to find four people stop what they were doing and look her way.

  “Don’t mind me,” she said. “Carry on.”

  “Grieve,” she said as she passed his desk, “can I see you in my office for a sec?”

  “O’ course, madam.”

  “Shut the door,” she told him as he entered. When it was closed, she lowered her voice. “One of those people is a djin. At least I’m guessing that’s what the blue skin means. Isn’t that one of the classes of individual we’ll be targeting?”

  Grieve shrugged. “All the better to have one who can be trusted in your division, madam.”

  “Trusted?” Rosie laughed softly. “I’ve heard that word should never be used in the same sentence with djin.”

  Grieve adjusted his glasses. “There are exceptions to every rule.”