I tried to speak then, I think, but all that escaped was a strangled moan as she moved oh so slowly back and forth, teasingly. Suddenly my body, deciding that she wasn’t some strange creature trying to kill me, allowed the blood to leave my head and flow to places south of my belt buckle. She made a sound that sounded unnervingly like a cat purring as she nuzzled her face into my neck and breathed deeply. My heart raced, blood thrumming through my veins like a freight train, and my own breaths came in short gasps that reminded me of trying to keep my head above water.
Interesting side note, vampires are not cold to the touch even though they are technically dead. If they had fed recently they were quite warm, almost feverish. I could feel the heat of her pulsing against me, through me, everywhere our bodies touched. The hand that restrained mine suddenly felt like an anchor, a burning sigil that kept the cold and loneliness at bay.
“Your body trusts me, Inquisitor. Does your mind?” Electricity seemed to dance along my nerve endings as she slid a hand along my stomach, up my chest, and rested it over my heart.
My body trusted her implicitly, that was for sure, but it was easy to please. It would trust anyone who moved like she did. But the few neurons I had left that were firing properly were all screaming trap! Even so, I couldn’t for the life of me think of a better way to go. This was the power of the vampires like Clara and Selena. Unlike Ezekiel, who had been all about playing up the monster aspect of their existence, Clara could make you long for that deadly final embrace. Their power made a promise to you that you knew deep down only a being like them could keep.
And right then every fiber of my being wanted her to keep her promise.
Somehow I managed to pull myself back from the brink. Turning my head away from hers, I mumbled, “My body doesn’t tend to think things through. We’ve played this game before, Clara. What do you think you’re doing?”
She went still next to me, her grip on my hands loosening, and sighed. “Clinging to false hope, I think.” Drawing away from me, I could feel the weight of her gaze on me even through the all-encompassing blackness. My knees almost buckled under the sudden crushing weight of the cold dark around me. Her proximity had held it off, the heat and promise of eternal life, but now she was leaving me alone.
It just wasn’t fair.
I stepped away from the wall, reaching out a trembling hand in order to find that heat again. To reconnect. The training stepped forward, overwhelming my sense of self-pity and despair and pushing it aside as if it was insignificant. I suddenly understood how childish my emotions seemed, how easily manipulated I had been. Various teachers and peers of mine throughout the years scolded me in my mind, jeering me at how close I had come to giving in.
Clara spoke then, her voice soft and sad, and I wondered how much was real and how much was an act for my benefit. “You can’t see past what they have taught you. I thought…But it doesn’t matter. I will aid you against the necromancer when he comes. I can do that for you if nothing else. Goodbye Inquisitor.” With that the door opened a fraction spilling a bar of light across the floor and illuminating the three metal shelving units and the cleaning products stored on them. A white cat streaked out of the room and didn’t look back.
The light didn’t make me feel any better.
It just wasn’t fair.
29
Confusion nipped at my heels like an angry puppy as I sat outside on the bottom step. Although in this case the puppy was actually a cat, thus destroying my metaphor. Why was Clara risking herself by being out in the daytime? It had stopped raining for the moment, and although the clouds were still thick and colored like the hull of a battleship there was a chance that the sun could come peeking through at any moment. I knew she was one of the Elder vampires and as such had less to fear from the sun’s rays than younger vamps, but still, why put herself in that position? I knew why Simon was risking it; he had a job to do and he wanted to reclaim some of the pride he lost when Christian made it out of his city in one piece. And Clara had offered to help against the necromancer as well. Why? She had nothing to prove, and, as far as I could tell, nothing to gain from intervening. Was she following Selena’s orders? But then why send her Bloodletter? Back in the old days, according to the stories, when a necromancer went rogue and no longer had the support of fellow magic users the local vampire community would attack en masse. The thought of a spell caster who could control the bodies of the undead was simply too ghastly for the vampires to tolerate. So they would exterminate him or her before they became a problem. But that was before the Supernatural Enforcement Committee, before the second Inquisition.
That wasn’t what was really bothering me, though. I could try to lie to myself about it all I wanted but it would come back to me every second I didn’t keep myself preoccupied with some other concern. I had enjoyed our little encounter in the broom closet. Enjoyed it way too much. She had tried the seduction act on me before, but this time felt different. It somehow seemed more real this time, more honest. Before it had been on Clara’s home turf in Selena’s house; a hunter enticing its prey to come just a little bit closer. There had been a palpable sense of danger that time, something that she exuded that made my skin creep and tingle. This time the skin tingling had been for an entirely different reason. Or was I making too much out of it? Simon’s frustrated and angry reaction to finding out that Clara had marked me jumped into my mind. He said it was an insult. Was he right?
Which led me to another question: Is groping in a broom closet considered fraternizing with the enemy?
Not that I had actually done any of the groping, what with my hands pinned to the wall over my head, but I definitely didn’t resist as much as I could have. And the vampires were one of the races that I had to monitor and sometimes adjudicate. What would that do to my impartiality if I was lusting after their Bloodletter like a high school student after the head cheerleader? I’m sure Robert, the new werewolf second, would be sympathetic. No way would he think that I had been bespelled by the vampires and call for my resignation.
Of course not. He would skip that and call for my blood instead.
But all that was stuff that hadn’t happened yet and I had no intention of letting it. No use in fretting over things like that when I had so many other things to fret about.
Getting up off the stone step, I wandered out towards the parking lot. The guards seemed relieved that I had decided not to impinge on their space any longer. They spread out and down the steps, filling the empty void I had left in their formation. Kicking a stone from my path, I headed over towards Simon’s car to wait.
Polanski had mercifully been pulled off rooftop duty. I could tell by the lack of insults being hurled my way. Another two-man team stood sentry now, both of them unfamiliar to me.
My eyes tracked down from the two black-clad snipers to the windows of the third floor. The hospital wing was in the back of the building, but I still imagined I could see Terri if I looked hard enough. A pang filled my gut and twisted my insides.
Why couldn’t it have been her instead of Clara?
Why hadn’t it been the girl that I had longed for for years that whispered in my ear, caressed my neck? Had my unconscious desire to protect her made me keep her at a distance? Deep down I thought that was true. We had settled into the damnably frustrating “friend-zone” a long time ago, and now that she was my apprentice it was even worse. With her this close the only way to keep her safe was to keep her separate, to push her further away. As much as I wanted her, I wanted her to be safe more. The tales of Inquisitors with families were as legendary as they were short. It seemed to be inevitable among us that we’d piss someone off and that the offended parties would look to get even. They usually think, for some ungodly reason, that by leaving the Inquisitor alone and only going after their loved ones that they will be spared full retaliation. Not so. But they never seem to learn. But neither do we, apparently, because there are always new members with nice families, a husband or wife at home, maybe ev
en a baby on the way. What kind of madness is that? How could they do that to someone they care about?
They are all targets to someone.
“All ready to go I see.” Ben slapped me on the shoulder as he passed, his old battered staff knocking a light staccato against the ground.
I jerked upright from my slouched position against the bumper. He had snuck up on me without me noticing a thing. I would have expected that sort of thing from Simon, who I saw was just exiting the building, but not from the decidedly mortal wizard. His appearance of an age-lined man with a slightly protruding belly just didn’t lend itself to stealth. It showed me just how much of a distraction Clara had been. Shaking my head to order my thoughts, I stood and followed him.
He made his way to the front passenger’s seat and waited for Simon to unlock the doors. “We’re all set. Want to guess where I hid the Book?”
Arching an eyebrow at him, I looked above to scan the trees for ravens. A number of them sat scattered amongst the red and gold leaves.
Ben waved it away with a smile. “They’re going to follow us anyway, so go ahead and guess.”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I would have thought the safe house. It seemed as defensible a place as any, even better than the room Jon had put up, but I didn’t see it when I was there.”
“Good thought, but no. It is eminently defensible, but its real talent is to go unnoticed. The Book has a tendency to attract attention by those seeking power, and if someone did manage to get in and retrieve the Book, they would also have access to all of the weaponry we have stored there. I didn’t want to put all of our eggs in one basket, so to speak.”
“So where is it then?” Simon asked as he opened his door and leaned on it, peering suspiciously at the wizard.
“Think,” he said, smiling wide. “Where could I put it where our people wouldn’t have reason to be and, in addition to the protection I would put on it, have its own security force?”
Security force? Then it hit me. “Oh no, Ben, tell me you didn’t.”
“Ha!” he exclaimed, and lowered himself into the car.
* * *
Oakland Army Base was, to put it mildly, impressive. A sprawling area of barracks, housing units for enlisted people’s families, vehicles and equipment, and thousands of containers that were unloaded from the ships in the port and stored in the Naval Supply Center. A razor-wire topped fence encircled the 368 acres of land that the military called home here in Oakland, and while it was located along the coast inside the Second City, the human population had control of it. Much like the UN building in New York, this place was foreign soil inside our own borders. A para who found himself inside its forbidding barriers was under the direct authority of humanity. A handful of paras from my section of the city worked here unloading cargo containers that came in via the ports, and all of them had to sign multiple contracts that had to be submitted to, and approved, by me. They basically said that while on the U.S. government’s property they were under human laws and that I would have no authority if they did anything wrong. Military justice was swift, especially with my kind, and they didn’t want me to fight for extradition if some wolf or warlock was accused of a crime.
Even though I had never heard of the military invoking the contract, I always wondered if the nice salaries they were getting was enough to compensate for working under the auspices of those who were placed here as a deterrent, a constant reminder that if the paranormal population stepped out of line they would be the first of many camouflaged warriors to invade the place we had come to call home.
We waited at the main entrance as a guard called the base commander—a man named Derrick Mason according to Ben—to tell him that three Inquisitors were here to talk to him. The nervous look of the guard when he finally returned told me all I needed to know about the commander’s reaction. Waving to his fellow sentry to open the gate, he handed our ID’s back to us and directed us to where the commander would meet us. As Ben pulled away, I watched the two guards gaze intently after us as we delved deeper into the lion’s den.
A minute later we were pulling up to a group of heavily armed soldiers, their rifles pointed carefully at the ground in front of them. They spread out to encircle us as we exited the car.
Base Commander Mason, recognizable because of his regalia and the unmistakable air of command that he wore like cologne, stepped forward. His uniform was immaculate even in the rain, the medals pinned to his chest seemed to penetrate the gloom and shine like tiny beacons. The flattop haircut he sported made his face seem more like a square and more intimidating for it. Age and time spent in harsh climates gave his skin the color and texture of old leather. “I wish I could say it was good to see you again, Ben, but given our current state of affairs you’ll understand if I skip that part and get straight to the point. What do you want?”
My eyes scanned the group around us. The rain had started again, a thin mist like at the base of a waterfall, and beads of it clung to shaved heads, dripped off chins and eyelashes, glittered on the black metal of their rifles. Several sets of eyes skittered between Simon and me, watching where our guns hung in their holsters. Only a handful bothered to keep their eyes on Ben, which showed me just how inexperienced these soldiers were when it came to paras. An older Inquisitor with a too-human physique should have automatically marked him as a magic user to them, and the fact that he didn’t even bother to wear his gun meant that he was very sure of his powers. They should have concentrated on him, but they kept vigil on the two men with guns instead. It spoke of naivety and didn’t say much for Ben’s security force.
I didn’t bother to listen as Ben filled the commander in on why we were here. Instead, I let my power unfurl and wander the base. One of the first rules of Inquisitor training was to be familiar with your surroundings. I could tell Simon was doing the same as his head rotated slowly, lifting his face to the air and drinking in the scents that came to him as the wind blew in from the bay bringing with it the cleansing smell of storms and the underlying odor of dead fish. Undoubtedly the vampire could pick out a multitude of other things that my nose couldn’t detect. My senses ranged out over the place, testing the men around us and moving on to the buildings behind them. The first thing that struck me as odd was the lack of people here. A place like this should be swarming with activity, inclement weather or no, but there were precious few presences to detect out there. The second was the giant blind spot that encompassed the bay. I knew there were ships out there moving in and out of port, waiting their turn out at sea, yet I couldn’t feel any of it. It was if someone had hung a giant curtain along the shore.
The commander stopped speaking as one of the soldier’s radios squawked to life. He spoke softly into it, listened to the response, then went over to the commander and whispered into his ear. “Excuse me,” Mason said to me, nailing me in place with a stern look. “Goldman, isn’t it? Frank Goldman?” I nodded. “Could you stop whatever it is you are doing, Mr. Goldman? You’re making my warlocks nervous, and when they get nervous I get nervous.”
“You have warlocks here?” I asked, perplexed by my inability to sense them or any wards they had placed.
“That’s right,” he said with a grin that fell far short of his eyes. “On loan from Special Operations Command. Now please desist.”
This man, I realized suddenly, was what made these soldiers dangerous. By themselves these troops were unprepared for what lay outside the fence of this place, but with his leadership they were a force to be reckoned with. It also gave me a new perspective on the seemingly innocuous conversation that he and Ben were having. Here on this patch of blacktop were two old veterans of the Vampire War, each carrying his own scars and burdens from it. But they had refused to let it change who they were. Being a magic practitioner, Ben had been counted among humanity’s enemies yet he had still fought alongside them, helped to hold back the encroaching darkness. Derrick Mason had been on the front lines defending his brothers and sisters as well, but fo
r a man like him it wasn’t a choice to be made, it had been made for him when the first vampires killed their first victims. What else could he do, hide in his house and hope somebody else took care of the problem? Of course not. The amazing part wasn’t that after all he had undoubtedly been through he was still a soldier, it was that he didn’t look at all of us like we were monsters. Too many times had I encountered men like officer Polanski who hated me just because of my heritage, and they weren’t even old enough to remember the war. It was an old hatred that for some was as deep as genetic memory; the fear of old monster stories and the lore. The hate always stemmed from fear of the unknown. But here was a man who had every right to despise us, who had fought and seen people die, maybe friends, maybe family, and yet he stood eye-to-eye with Ben and counted him as an equal.
General Briggs had been a man like that. He had created the turning point in the war when he enlisted aid from the newly deemed paras who were willing to fight. The tactic had been shouted down at first, but then they saw the results. He had reclaimed too much territory to dismiss it out of hand. He understood that while all humans had been created equal, the same was not true with us. Some, like the magic users and psychics, were undeniably human in their actions and beliefs, while the wolves and vamps were split into factions that ranged from almost human to monster and everything in between. Without even realizing it, the General had created the groundwork for a post-war existence. And then in a single, some would say treasonous, act he crippled the vampire’s efforts by using a nuclear weapon on the south of France where the three Ancient vampires who controlled the war had made their home. Men who prized intellect over emotions were the ones who had created the world we coexisted in now. It wasn’t perfect, but it was better than the alternative.
I shut down my power, but not before feeling the distinctive creeping sensation of necromantic energy at the outer edges of the base. Looking back the way we had come, I saw a single raven wheeling lazily through the air. Even though it was little more than a dark smudge against the gray sky, I knew that its obsidian eyes were locked on us. I wondered not for the first time how much energy his familiars still retained. Would it be enough for Christian to still believe he could get the Book? How much danger were we putting these soldiers in?
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