by Arthur, Keri
The medical team came in, took what looked like enough blood to supply the guardians downstairs for several days, said they’d analyze it straightaway, and left.
Jack sat on the edge of the desk. “You asked me earlier if I’d ever done a check on Gautier. Was it only to see if he had a brother or did you want more information?”
I leaned back in the chair and studied him for a moment. “This is another of your lures, isn’t it?”
He grinned, confirming my fears. “A taste here, a taste there, and you’ll be hooked before you know it.”
I shook my head. “It’s not going to happen. I’m not a killer.”
He just raised an eyebrow. “Then you don’t want to know any more about Gautier?”
I sighed and rubbed my aching head. “Of course I do.”
“You knew he joined the Directorate about eight years ago?”
I nodded. He’d apparently arrived a year before Jack and two years before me. “And?”
“It appears that up until nine and a half years ago, Gautier didn’t even exist.”
I stared at him. “Impossible. I’ve seen his file. He has birth certificates, passports, citizenship cards, the lot, and everything was checked.”
“Forgeries, one and all.” His computer screen beeped. He rose and walked over to it.
“How can you be sure?” I asked.
“Because we have a very sophisticated system running here now, and there’s nowhere you can’t go if you have the access.”
And Jack obviously had the access. Interesting. As the head of the guardian division, he’d naturally have access to more files than most, but his words suggested there was no place he couldn’t go. Which, in turn, meant he either knew how to get around the system monitoring or that he had carte blanche when it came to access from the director herself.
Which begged the question—why Jack and not the other directors? Because the others didn’t have it—they always came to Jack when they wanted information about particular aspects in the guardian division.
I studied him a minute longer, then said, “But the same system would have checked his credentials when he first joined.”
“Actually, no. His acceptance was handled higher up, then rubber-stamped down to us.”
“How far up?”
He glanced at me. “Alan Brown.”
Who was Director Hunter’s second-in-command, and yet another vampire I didn’t like. “You think he was pressured into accepting Gautier?”
Jack glanced at the screen again. “They’ve found no matches for recreational drugs,” he said, then added, “Right now, I’m not sure what to think.”
Somehow, I doubted that. I’m sure he had lots of thoughts about what was going on—he just had no intention of sharing them with me just yet. I tapped my fingers against his desk. “What would anyone have to gain by getting Gautier accepted here? He’s an utter bastard, but he’s also our best guardian, and has hardly set a foot wrong work-wise.”
“Everyone knows Gautier wants my job, and eventually, the director’s job. Maybe that’s the plan.” The computer screen beeped again. “No response to known prescription drugs.”
Geez, the lab boys weren’t kidding when they said they’d get on it straightaway. Either they’d cleared all the analysis machines just for this, or they’d had nothing else to do.
“I told you, it was just a reaction to the champagne.”
“Maybe.” He didn’t sound convinced. “They’re going to run through listed experimental drugs. Could take a while, though.”
I shrugged, then added, “I doubt if Gautier would get the director’s job. I think the old cow has plans of being in that seat for several centuries.”
Amusement creased the corners of his eyes. “I know for a fact she has. Which leaves my job.”
“But for all intents and purposes, you only oversee the guardian division. You’re not the true power here, she is.”
“True, but I have control over missions, and that alone might be all Gautier wants. The power to go after whom he pleases.”
That thought sent a shiver down my spine. “Don’t you dare leave, Jack.”
“Believe me, I have no plans to do so.”
“Good.” I hesitated again, half-wondering if by even asking any more questions I was dragging myself further into Jack’s world. “Did you ever discover if he has any kin?”
“No. He apparently came from Perth, but nobody there seems to remember him.”
“And no one here thought that odd?”
“Apparently not.”
But Jack had—and had done nothing except watch and wait. I wondered who else he was watching. “What about the shooter?”
“It appears he doesn’t have a past beyond five years ago.”
That raised my eyebrows. I mean, what were the chances of two almost identical people also sharing a lack of background? “What are the police saying? They automatically do DNA testing when the remains are unrecognizable, don’t they?”
“They do, but they’re not saying anything because I put a hush order on it.”
“Why? Okay, he resembles Gautier and he shot me, but hell, werewolves are always getting shot by crazies.”
“As I said before, I don’t believe in coincidences. Especially when Gautier seemed to know about the bullet wound. Why else would he have touched your shoulder like that when, in all the time you’ve been here, he’s barely done more than exchange insults from a distance?”
I blinked, remembering the watchfulness in Gautier’s eyes. He had been looking for something. And though he was a vamp and could smell blood as easily as I breathed, the fact that I’d shifted shape to help the healing along then taken a shower meant there was no blood—fresh or otherwise—to smell. And barely healed wounds weren’t visible in infrared. “It might have been dumb luck.”
“Dumb luck has nothing to do with anything Gautier does. So the next questions are, why did the shooter resemble Gautier, how is he connected to Gautier, and why did he shoot you?”
I shrugged. “Maybe he just hates werewolves.”
Yet that wolf had called me by name—and how had he known where I lived? With Rhoan and me both working for the Directorate, our apartment wasn’t listed in the any of the phone directories. And it didn’t make sense for Gautier to have given him the information. If Gautier wanted me dead, he’d do it himself—and with sadistic pleasure.
“That doesn’t explain the likeness,” Jack said.
No, it didn’t. “So you think they could be related, despite the fact we can find nothing about either of them?”
“Not related by birth, but certainly connected.”
“Connected how, then?”
“I think it very likely the shooter, at least, is a clone.”
I stared at him. “They can’t make clones—not ones that survive to adulthood, anyway.”
“It’s possible someone has, because your shooter is not the only dead person in recent weeks to resemble Gautier. And Gautier himself resembles a man who died some years ago. Plus, we discovered a lot of growth accelerant in the shooter’s remains.”
“What about DNA?”
“We haven’t tested any against Gautier’s yet.”
“Why not?”
“Because we don’t want him suspicious. We plan on taking some samples for testing during his regular physical.”
Which was due in the next day or so, if I remembered correctly. “I guess you haven’t talked to him, then?”
“No. At this stage, we’re merely watching him. We’re hoping he’ll lead us to whoever is behind all this.”
“That’s a big risk, isn’t it? What if he gets suspicious and runs?” The last thing we needed was Gautier off the leash. Just the thought sent a shiver down my spine.
“If he runs, he’ll be killed.”
Somehow, I didn’t think it would be that simple. “So why does accelerant imply cloning?”
“Accelerant—at least in the tests currently being done
on animals—is used to fast-track growth so the scientists can see what problems the clone might have when it reaches middle years.”
“Where are the animal rights activists on that one?” I muttered. “Is there any evidence of accelerant in Gautier’s blood?”
“None at all—it would have been picked up in the six-month physicals.”
So, he was either who he said he was, and the clones a mere coincidence, or he was somehow the source of the clones. Because if the dead man Gautier resembled was truly dead rather than vampire dead, then surely he couldn’t be the source of Gautier and the others. “Do you think Moneisha is behind the clones?”
“We doubt it. It hasn’t the facilities as far as we know.”
“But Rhoan was investigating it?”
“No, he was checking a report that prostitutes were regularly disappearing from the St. Kilda district, and reappearing a week or so later, totally disoriented and having no idea where they had been.”
“Human or nonhuman pros?”
“Nonhuman.”
“If someone is trying to clone, maybe they need DNA samples to play with.”
“Very likely.”
His expression was that of a teacher pleased with the progress of a difficult student, and that irritated. Yet until I’d actually gotten Rhoan out, I’d have to put up with such expressions. And after all, time would tell which of us was going to win this particular battle.
Still, I felt an insane urge to irritate him back. “There’s something about the attack I should tell you—I didn’t actually kill the shooter. Quinn O’Conor did.”
“I was wondering when you’d get around to telling me that.”
I raised my eyebrows. “You knew about Quinn?”
He nodded. “I saw the security tapes.”
“Vampires in shadows don’t show up in normal security tapes.”
He grinned. “No. But the rail system underwent a recent upgrade that included infrared systems being installed side by side with standard security. It’s helped catch a number of criminals.”
“That was kept rather secret, wasn’t it?”
“Sometimes the public just doesn’t need to know.”
“Tell that to the civil libertarians.” I pushed up from the chair and walked across to the machine to grab a coffee. “Why was Rhoan investigating Quinn O’Conor?”
Amusement touched his lips. “Oh, you are good.”
“Was it the dead vamp found in his cargo plane?”
“Very good,” he murmured, then nodded. “Turns out that vamp was a half-breed.” He looked at me, and I knew, right then, that I’d been on the money before. He’d known all along what Rhoan and I were. “But one born in the lab, rather than naturally, like you and your twin.”
I swallowed, but it did little to ease the dryness in my throat. “How long have you known?”
“Practically since you joined us.”
And we thought we’d been so careful.
His smile was gentle. “Riley, I’m over eight hundred years old, and I’ve seen an awful lot in my time. I’ve met your kind before—you even have a name, do you realize that?”
The only name I knew was freak, and even then, until that man shot me, I’d only ever heard it in whispered tones from those in my pack who thought I was too young to understand.
“Dhampires,” he continued. “The offspring of newly turned vamps, born to women who are usually attacked and raped in the vampire’s first hour out of the grave, women who somehow survive. A one in a million chance.”
“Our mother was a wolf.”
“And I’m supposing she was in moon fever, because a werewolf would certainly best a newly risen vampire.”
She had bested him—when it was over and his dying seed had somehow created life. “Why haven’t you ever said anything?”
“Because I respect your right to privacy.” He hesitated. “Though I have to admit, your birthright is part of the reason I want you on the team with Rhoan. I don’t think either of you has tapped your full potential.”
“And I want the whole picket fence and bundles of babies scenario, Jack, not long nights filled with bloodshed.”
“Actually, I want you and Rhoan to form the start of a daytime guardian division. Right now, we are somewhat hampered by our ability to hunt only at night.”
“Right now, your wants aren’t even registering on my radar.” I began to pace, taking care not to spill the lukewarm brown muck the Directorate had the cheek to call coffee. The moon was rising and I didn’t have to see it to know it was happening. The power of it burned through my veins. “So why did a dead half vamp make you decide to investigate Quinn? There’s nothing unusual in vamps occasionally dying on cargo planes, especially if they get their timing or packing wrong.”
“This vamp suffocated.”
I swung around to look at him. “Vamps don’t really need air to survive, so how did he suffocate?”
“He was only half-vamp, remember.”
“So he was too dumb to put airholes in the coffin?”
Jack grinned. “Actually, he had too much air.”
That raised my eyebrows. “How can anyone have too much air?”
“He was half merman, that’s how.”
“A vampire merman?” I couldn’t help the note of incredulity in my voice. “Why in hell would anyone want a cross like that?”
“I think hell had a lot to do with it. A hell run by fanatics determined to breed the perfect killing machine.”
“I can’t imagine a merman willingly being a part of research like that.” They don’t even like going to the doctors, for heaven’s sake.
“I don’t think willingness has anything to do with what is going on here.”
“So why were you investigating Quinn?”
“It was just routine. He owns several pharmaceutical companies in Australia and the U.S. Of the ones here, the biggest is in Sydney. Sydney is where that vamp was headed.”
“That doesn’t mean he was headed to O’Conor’s labs.” I took a sip of coffee and screwed my nose up at the bitter taste. Still, with my head continuing to pound and my stomach beginning to growl over lack of food, bitter coffee was better than nothing.
“As it turns out, he wasn’t, but we still had to check. Especially since Director Hunter wanted Quinn in on the investigation.”
I swung around to look at him. “What?”
Jack smiled. “The older vampire community is not a huge one. There are, perhaps, fifty vampires worldwide who have survived to reach their millennium years—and to do so means they are either extremely powerful or extremely canny. Quinn is both.”
And for a vamp over one thousand years old, he was also very well preserved. “Why would she want him on the investigation, though?”
“Because he was already seeking the origins of the lab-made dhampire and the Gautier clones, and it is infinitely better if we pool resources and work together.”
“Just how many clones are there?” That there might be more than two was a scary thought—and I could only hope they didn’t all have a desire to shoot me with silver. “And why would he be investigating them? He’s a businessman, not a cop or guardian.”
Jack grinned again. “O’Conor’s been many things over the years. A businessman is only the latest incarnation.”
“That doesn’t answer the question, Jack.”
He nodded. “The truth is I can’t actually stop him from investigating this, so it’s better to have him working alongside us.”
I frowned. “Throwing his ass into one of the cells upstairs would certainly stop him.”
“The cells wouldn’t hold me, let alone Quinn. Not with the sort of mind-power he’s got.”
A chill ran down my spine. “The Directorate is shielded. No one is supposed to be able to use mind-abilities within these walls.”
“Most can’t, and the cells will hold all but a very few.”
But not him, and not Quinn, obviously. It was an almost scary thought that
the two vamps I’d felt so comfortable with were far more dangerous than Gautier ever could be. “Why is Quinn investigating the clones?”
“He saw—and stopped—one in Sydney sometime ago. Apparently the clone was the image of a friend he’d thought dead.”
Meaning the friend was the image of Gautier, if this “friend” was the dead man Jack had mentioned earlier. Part of me couldn’t help wondering if the poor guy had been so depressed about his looks he’d killed himself. “A vampire friend, I take it?”
Jack nodded. “Quinn’s also an old friend of Director Hunter. He recently contacted her about the matter—a professional courtesy, as he’d heard Moneisha mentioned while investigating and intended to come down to Melbourne and look into the matter further. Which is why she told me to bring him in on our investigations.”
“Her okay doesn’t make it legal to have a civilian involved in a Directorate case.”
“In matters of civil safety, the Directorate can enlist whatever help it deems necessary. And it does give us the chance to intercede before he does anything illegal.”
Somehow, I didn’t think Quinn would be too bothered about legalities if push came to shove. “He left a message on my phone. He wants a meet tonight.”
Jack nodded. “He contacted me once he’d regained his full memory. For the time being, I want you to work with him.”
“Do you think that wise? I mean, if he’s as powerful as you say, might he not be using his abilities to bend you to his will?”
“Director Hunter trusts him implicitly, so I must also.”
“Director Hunter isn’t infallible, as evidenced by the fact she had no idea her vice president rubber-stamped Gautier’s entry into the Directorate.”
Jack grinned. He seemed to being doing a lot of that lately, and it was somewhat disturbing—if only because I suspected it meant he was extremely happy about how things were going when it came to his plans for me.
“Suspicion is an excellent habit for a guardian to have, you know.”
So was knowing when to retreat—which was exactly what I intended doing just then. Besides, it was nearing eleven, which meant I’d have to get moving if I wanted to meet Quinn. “Tell me about Moneisha.”
