“…In the midst of a bomb attack. When I’d already warned you how intelligent these creatures are? When I’d already cautioned you how quickly Brick would put together what was happening, once you initiated your attack––”
“We did track it.” The blond human frowned. “Didn’t you hear me? It was in the middle of a fucking lake, Vasiliev. We looked at every piece of shoreline and found nothing. He probably dropped it from the air. We had reports of helicopters leaving there.”
He motioned vaguely with the hand holding his drink.
“We thought maybe he was hiding out in the swamp with his vampire pals, waiting for us to stop with the bombs. Or waiting for other survivors or something. That’s why we didn’t notice at first, when the tracker stopped moving.”
Still fighting to control his anger, Charles nodded.
He took his eyes off the other male with an effort, gazing back out the window.
If he hadn’t been masquerading as human, he would have done a lot more than glare at him. He likely would have pushed the idiot into sticking that fancy gun of his into his mouth and pulling the trigger.
As it was, he wasn’t finished with this particular tool, not yet.
He opened his mouth, about to speak, when a new sound pulled his eyes.
The front door to the suite was opening.
Charles turned sharply, watching the lone figure emerge from the darkness of the foyer. Seeing the iron-gray hair and hard features of the man entering the high-ceilinged living area, Charles felt something in his chest relax marginally.
The older Silver, Malcolm, might physically be an older and less-muscular version of his blond-haired ape of a son––but he at least had a brain.
Moreover, the younger Silver actually listened to his father, unlike the idiotic and unwarranted arrogance he aimed at everyone else.
The man’s dark blue eyes, roughly the same color but so different in expression than his son’s, sought out Charles first.
“Vasiliev,” he acknowledged, nodding at him, grim. “I’m glad you’re here.”
After a loaded-feeling pause, he aimed his dark blue eyes at his son, his thin lips and wide mouth pinching in a frown.
“…Clearly we are in need of significant damage control, given the sheer incompetence around yesterday’s and today’s events.”
The younger Silver scowled, looking for all the world like an overgrown schoolboy as he folded his arms over his chest, shifting his weight on his trunk-like legs.
The older Silver continued to stare at his son for a long-feeling beat of time, a faint disgust curling the edges of his severe lips.
Exhaling, he returned his gaze to Charles.
Even so, his words still seemed aimed at his son.
“Where are we with locating the operative, Black?” he said finally.
Logan’s scowl deepened. Aiming that scowl at Charles briefly, then back at his father, he shifted his weight on his legs again, refolding his thick arms.
His voice sounded resentful, borderline petulant.
“We tracked him to Latin America,” Logan said. “We believe now that he flew to Honduras first, refueled, then went on to Argentina. We lost the tracker, so that’s based on flight records and satellite imaging. We have people looking for him in Buenos Aires now.”
United States Senator, Malcolm Silver, father of Logan Silver, raised an eyebrow at Charles, his mouth quirked in a silent question.
Clearly, he wanted the seer to either confirm or refute his son’s words.
Charles shrugged, grimacing in a way that made it clear to the other man that he didn’t find his son’s intel particularly compelling.
“I see,” Malcolm said, aiming another hard look at Logan. He looked back at Charles. “Have you managed to track him yourselves?”
The question was considerably more polite when he aimed it at Charles.
“I’ve sent people,” Charles said, giving a single nod. “We can confirm he likely stopped briefly in Latin America. Likely Honduras, as your son said. However, I’m fairly convinced the private jet Black sent on to Argentina was nothing more than a decoy. If they left by air, they switched planes. I’m more inclined to think they didn’t leave by air, however.”
“What makes you think that?” Logan blurted, glaring at him.
Charles gave him a flat look. “Planes are too easy to track.”
Logan scowled. “I mean, what makes you think his plane was a decoy?”
Charles bit his tongue to keep from clicking at him.
“We looked in on his contacts in Argentina,” he explained tautly. “Black is a man who utilizes a network. That network is dead in Buenos Aires, as well as in Patagonia and other areas where he knows people who could be counted on to help him. I could believe such a thing in Asia. Black knows more people than we could hope to track in Asia, especially certain parts of it… but not in South America. The few legitimate contacts he does own there, we’ve had people on from the instant we knew his flight plan had him traveling south.”
Logan Silver scowled, about to speak.
His father held up a hand before he could, giving his son a hard, warning stare. Malcolm returned his gaze to Charles.
“Where is that network active?” the older human said.
“Primarily in the United States,” Charles said at once.
He turned from the penthouse window, walking deeper into the plush-carpeted living room and closer to the Senator. “…Given that, and based on my knowledge of Black, I’m of the belief he is on his way back here. Assuming he isn’t here already.”
“He wouldn’t do that,” Logan muttered angrily. “Why the fuck would he do that?”
Neither Malcolm nor Charles gave him so much as a glance.
“Would he come here directly first?” Malcolm asked Charles. “To Washington?”
Charles frowned in thought.
“It’s possible,” he admitted after a beat. “He might think speed to be the wiser strategy, hoping to catch us between full implementation of a second attempt to apprehend him. He’ll be paranoid after that failed attempt in Virginia––and likely angry. Also, it’s like him to take a more aggressive approach. He would want to come back in before the borders closed.”
“They already are closed, as far as he’s concerned,” Logan muttered.
Neither of the other two men looked at him.
“Does he suspect anything of our wider plans?” Malcolm said, frowning.
Holding his gaze, Charles exhaled, answering honestly.
“I don’t know.” He held the human’s gaze, gauging his expression. “Do you know of any possible leaks? As far as I am aware, even the Colonel didn’t know about the big picture strategy. He was growing suspicious, yes, but I read him prior to his death, and he had no idea of the scope of it… or even the identity of the true players, apart from you.”
Malcolm Silver nodded.
He frowned, his eyes showing him to be turning this over.
“And the vampire?” he said. “Can you help us to neutralize him?”
“We have recent reports that an entourage made its way back to New Orleans,” Charles said. “We’ve been waiting to confirm the presence of their leader before we make a move. So far, we haven’t been able to pick them up on satellite, and no drones have been able to approach without being destroyed. As you know, my, err… more specialized forces… are ineffective with the vampire race. It complicates operations where we need to locate a specific individual of their species.”
Pursing his lips, he sent out a tendril of light to read both men as he continued.
“As I said, they have strong security measures in place at the New Orleans property, so even regular drones won’t do much, in terms of locating the leader. If it’s intel you want, that will necessitate a ground mission, possibly even a true infiltration. But that will take time. Time we may no longer have.”
Malcolm nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Suggestions?”
Charles exha
led. “Honestly? I know it’s the middle of an American city, but I’m tempted to say bomb it. Use it as part of the exposure. If it’s reported with the right spin, and the right visuals, it might help us with the initial break.”
“This soon?” Malcolm Silver’s thin lips pursed. “That’s four months ahead of schedule. Are our allies overseas prepared to change course that quickly?”
Charles quirked an eyebrow, barely suppressing a smile.
“I think the far greater question is on this side,” he said, motioning vaguely with a hand. “We have considerably fewer… barriers… where I am from. There is less need for manipulation, Senator, as consensus can be ordered. Here, there are many more variables at play. You might have to work at it, if you want the bulk of the population to go along with it. That means media, congress. And the White House administration, of course.”
Malcolm nodded, a grim understanding in his eyes.
Thinking, he nodded again, slower.
“You may be right. How soon can it be arranged? The New Orleans thing, I mean? There must be some danger the creature will change locations soon?”
“Yes,” Charles said promptly. “I give us eight hours. Ten at most. Beyond that, we are risking losing him all over again.”
He looked at the younger Silver, then back at the father.
“As for timing, it would be better if my people weren’t the visible force,” Charles added, cautious. “Would it be possible for your son to bring the United States military into this? It would be far better optics, for multiple reasons. It would also be significantly more powerful in generating fear––especially if we can show some graphic casualties on our side. That means more than drones and missiles. We need people there. On the ground. We need footage of some graphic kills. The drones might be useful for that, once we get their security grid down.”
Pausing, he glanced at Logan Silver again before adding,
“The more legitimacy we can give this operation, the better. But I don’t know if the timeline is feasible.”
When the silence stretched, Malcolm Silver turned, frowning at his son.
“Well?” he growled. “Answer the man! Can you have people there in five hours?”
Logan Silver, still looking vaguely sulky, nodded. “We can do it.”
Charles exhaled, nodding.
“Then I say green light it,” he advised the senator. “If the vampires get a chance to regroup and counterattack, it might make for scintillating television, but we’re going to lose control. If that happens, there’s some chance they could pose a real threat to us. It would be foolhardy in the extreme to assume they haven’t already infiltrated parts of this administration. Or that they wouldn’t go to extreme measures, if they felt their race as a whole might be under attack.”
He glanced at the younger Silver, then back at Malcolm.
“We still don’t know their exact numbers,” he added.
Malcolm frowned, then nodded, once.
“I concur.”
Still looking at Charles, he pursed his lips, his eyes more serious.
“I can get a unanimous statement out of the majority in the Senate.” His voice turned grim as he continued to study Charles’ face. “The House will follow, especially if we give them the right visuals. Providing we give them cover with their constituents, and don’t make them look like fools, there’ll follow any talking points I hand out.”
The older human paused, frowning.
“What about the president?” he said next. “You have his ear, Charles. He trusts you. Can you get him on board with the accelerated timeline?”
Charles smiled, almost without meaning to.
Quirking an eyebrow, he shook his head bemusedly at the gray-haired human.
As he did, the smile on his lips widened.
“Don’t worry about him,” he assured the human. “The President is definitely on board.”
19
GARDEN OF GOOD AND EVIL
“I NEED TO talk to you,” I told him.
Black tensed.
Turning slowly, he gave me a sideways look.
Then, still frowning as he surreptitiously assessed my expression, and probably my light, he gave me a single nod. Glancing at Jem––who stood beside him, his eyes on me as well, and as wary as Black’s––Black did something to cause the other seer to look over at him.
After a pause, Jem nodded to whatever Black sent.
Then a voice rose in my mind, soft, a bare whisper.
Don’t hurt him, the voice warned.
I turned sharply, staring at Jem when I realized it was his presence I’d felt behind the thought. He’d tried to make the words sound like a joke, but it wasn’t really a joke.
We need him, Jem added, slightly more seriously.
Giving him a hard look, I glanced at Black.
From his expression, and his light’s focus on me, he hadn’t heard Jem. Black was already turning, leading me out of the room so we could talk alone. I was about to follow him, when Jem’s voice rose in my mind a third time, his words quieter, and even more serious.
He did the right thing. You might not like it, but he got good intel. Intel we need right now. Maybe ask him about that, before you forget why he agreed to it in the first place.
I know why he agreed to it, I sent back, my thoughts cold. As for the rest of it, stay the fuck out of it, Jem. It’s none of your goddamned business.
Jem frowned faintly, but I didn’t hold his gaze long enough to really assess how my words impacted him, or what he was thinking behind that frown.
Turning away from him completely that time, I walked with Black towards the back of the long ballroom.
He took us through the small jungle of trees and through the ballroom’s outer door.
Instead of heading for the sunroom, however, he took me in the opposite direction down the narrow hall, finding a door to the outside, one he must have spotted earlier, maybe on his walk back to the ballroom after Brick fed on him.
I followed him through the glass door with the white frame, and into a warm, humid night and the back gardens of the house.
Immediately, the sound of cicadas, crickets and frogs filled the night air. I glanced around at the garden, which housed a good-sized pond, a lit swimming pool with a waterfall and an elevated hot tub to our right, right at the back of the house. Behind both the pond and the pool I saw a wide lawn dotted with willow trees, magnolias, and a number of other breeds I couldn’t discern in the dark. Rose bushes covered in white and red roses formed a border about the pool area and framed the back of the pond. White jasmine and wisteria covered a trellis at the back of the house, near a shaded patio covered in deck chairs and tables.
Even in the dark, it was beautiful.
Like the swamp, it was strangely loud, too.
It reminded me where we were, once I could hear the frogs, insects and birds filling the night skies with their calls.
Black took me away from the house, past the pond, so that we stood under the darkness of the trees. I wondered if he was worried about being overheard, or about listening devices, or about Brick feeling his thoughts after he’d been so recently fed on.
Knowing him, he was probably worried about all three.
Once we stood in almost total darkness, where I could barely see his eyes, or his face really, or his expression, he just stood there. His shadowed form showed him to be standing inhumanly still, hands on his hips, waiting.
From his light, he might have been expecting me to punch him in the face.
I felt him flinch at my thought, but he didn’t make a crack, like he might have done even a few months earlier. He didn’t feel annoyed, or angry––or even defensive.
Truthfully, he felt sad.
The longer I felt his light, the more it sank in that he felt less like he was worried I’d punch him, and more like he worried I was about to get on a plane back to Hawaii.
Or anywhere, really.
Anywhere away from him.
; Forgetting everything I’d intended to say, I found myself walking up to him. He flinched back for real that time, stepping back, alarm in his light, but I grabbed hold of his shirt, then his belt. Holding him there, gripping his shirt in my fisted hand, I started unhooking his belt, my fingers moving fast, even as I stared up at him in the dark.
“Is it all right?” I asked him.
I felt his bewilderment, even as a sharp, intense pulse of pain left his light. I felt him holding it back, trying to control it, but he wasn’t having much luck with that either.
When he didn’t move, or speak, I released his shirt, using both hands to finish with his belt. Once I had it undone, I looked up at him again.
“Black?” I said. “Is it all right? Or not? I need an answer.”
He stared down at me.
Now that I’d adjusted to the dark, I could almost make out the outline of his face.
Glimpsing his expression, along with the flashes of intensity still coming off his light, I reached up, as impulsively as I had with the belt, caressing his jaw with my fingers, then his cheek and face.
I realized he was crying, and bit my lip harder.
“Hey,” I said, soft. “Black… hey. It’s okay.”
Feeling a sick coil of guilt when I realized I’d just been about to molest him, right after Brick more or less did the same, I reached for his belt a second time.
I felt him flinch that time, too.
Ignoring it when I felt him stiffen, I re-buckled the clasp, looping the leather tongue back through the loop in his pants. As I did it, the pain coming off him worsened. He caught hold of my hand as I was finishing, stopping me.
When I looked up, he would only shake his head.
I wasn’t sure what the head-shake meant. I wasn’t sure what he was saying “no” to.
Instead of asking, I waited.
The pain coming off him worsened.
I fought to see his face through the dark, biting my lip more. I could see his eyes, but not well enough to know exactly what was going on with him, or whether I should leave him alone.
“No,” he said, gruff, shaking his head again. “No, Miri.”
I was still staring up at him when he lowered his head.
In Black We Trust Page 26
