Kali frowned, her broad face twisting into something a lot more monstrous. She was ordinarily pretty—if odd looking—but as her nearly black eyes lit with a dark blue fire and her mouth twisted with a weird mix of anger and—was that guilt? There were a lot of things she didn't know about the woman. “Who?” she asked, her voice low and gravely.
What the hell? Jaz asked herself. “My uncle. For years. From when I was five and until I ran off at ten. After he killed my mother."
"Five?” Kali's lip curled into a sneer, then slid into an evil smile. “This bastard still breathing?"
Jaz shrugged, surprised by how much it pained her to talk about this even now. “As far as I know."
"Well, we'll just have to see if we can do something about that. He got away with killing your mother?"
"He covered his tracks very well. Plus he had diplomatic immunity."
Kali's eyes narrowed. “He was a diplomat?"
Jaz shook her head. “A diplomatic aide of some sort. I was only ten. I'm not sure what he did. But I overheard him talking. He said my mother was a whore and she deserved what she got."
"He certainly will,” Kali said in a low growl. “So where might I find him?"
Jaz shrugged. “He went back home to Egypt after I ran away."
"You must have kept a close eye on him. That's pretty nervy."
"I had to know if he was trying to find me.” She let out an explosive snort. “He didn't bother. Or maybe he was so afraid I'd go running to the authorities that he took off."
"If he had diplomatic immunity why would he run?"
"I don't know. Maybe he didn't run. Maybe he was called back for some reason. I just know he left in a hurry."
"Lucky you."
"Yeah. Lucky me."
* * * *
Colonel Husam Abu Saqr hesitated just a split second before his shod foot fell upon the tarmac. This was the land of his fall from grace, so it was fitting that it would be here that the angel would send him to redeem himself.
He strode toward the building as he lifted his sunglasses to his face, smiling insincerely at the three little men who had come to greet him. He thought them weak, groveling ghosts who'd abandoned God to seek wealth and influence in this land of infidels and sorcerers, abandoning the teachings of the prophet as he himself had done when he visited here so many years before.
Saqr was a tall man, dark of skin and eye, with a shaved skull beneath his cap. He glanced back over his shoulder at the Gulfstream IV/SP and found himself wishing he were back in the cockpit taking the plane back up.
He sighed quietly as he approached the three men. They were dressed in Western suits, and not cheap off-the-rack stuff either. Completely corrupted. He felt out of place in his Egyptian military uniform, but it suited him better than the glad rags they wore.
"Colonel Saqr. It is so nice to meet you.” One of the men, in a gray pinstriped Armani silk, stepped forward to offer his hand.
Saqr muttered standard greetings, all the while thinking that he couldn't wait to get these idiots out of his hair so he could call upon the angel—who had promised to bring him the tools he'd need to complete the mission as soon as he could summon the creature.
The angel had told him what he'd needed to do in order to make himself right with God, to atone for his sins. And atone he would. As soon as he had the tools the angel had promised, he would turn the den of sorcery called Shea Industries into a pile of rubble.
* * * *
Athena slid her chair up to the table and glared across its wide expanse at Loki, who leaned back and laced his fingers behind his head as he scanned everyone currently assembled around the table. The vampire Raven regarded him placidly, while Amanda Dalmas-Keening, Commander of the Magical Activities Division, glanced back and forth between him and Athena with a baffled look on her face.
"I don't remember authorizing you to call an emergency meeting of this council, Loki. Ever."
The Trickster immortal shrugged. “What's your point, Athena?” He threw a broad wink at the others. “Thought you all would like to hear an update on what I've learned about the various metaviruses lately."
"You created them,” Amanda growled. “Why the hell are you discovering things about them now?"
He gave her an amused look in response. “They've long since surpassed their programming,” he told her glibly. “I tried to limit their ability to mutate, but...” He let his voice trail off and shrugged again. “Even pre-programmed nanoviruses are apparently susceptible to unexpected mutations."
Looking suitably abashed, she made a motion with her hand to suggest he continue. He lifted a single brow and cast a glance around the table. Athena sighed and repeated Amanda's gesture. Raven remained as silent as he'd been since he'd entered, giving the immortal a dead-eyed stare.
Loki pursed his thin lips. “So far I've managed to isolate five different varieties of the metahuman virus. It looks as though they breed true, carrying their particular traits to the next generation. I've given each of them a designation. Synthetics—which includes people who can transform, or are themselves transformed, into metal, elastic, or some other abnormal substance ... elementals—who can tap into or channel the forces of earth, fire, water, or air ... athletics—who have one extreme physical attribute such as strength, speed, or stamina ... psis, who have enhanced psychic abilities, and trolls—who are changed into something almost monstrous by the virus but gain preternatural strength in the bargain."
"Breed true? Does that mean that a meta—a synthetic—that has a child with a normal human would have a child who's a synthetic as well?” Amanda was frowning at this—she knew a bit about the subject, her own child most likely being a preternatural like his father.
"Looks that way. If a synthetic mated with an elemental, for example, the child would have an eighty percent chance of being a meta as well—and about equal chance of being either a synthetic or an elemental. Thankfully they don't seem to combine—so you don't end with someone who's both. Unless there's another mutation, of course, but not as things stand right now.
"The downside is that it narrows further. Say two elastic synthetics have a child. That child has an eighty percent chance of being a meta and a synthetic, and a better than sixty-five percent chance of being an elastic as well. I'm only extrapolating now, but it's conceivable that the grandchild of two elastic synthetics who had a synthetic child that mated with another elastic synthetic would be virtually guaranteed to be the same as both parents and grandparents."
"You're talking about creating sub-species of human,” Amanda said, biting her upper lip. “Homo Elasticus, basically."
"Uh-huh. Exactly. We do not want this to happen."
"Something that puzzles me,” Raven interjected, “is how an ... elemental ... like The Burning Man, for example, can light himself on fire and yet suffer no damage from it. It seems ... impossible."
"I wondered that myself. There's no good scientific explanation for it. It seems very likely that it utilizes mana in some way."
"Mana?” Athena perked up at this. “Are you telling me that if they were cut off from mana, they wouldn't be able to do what they do?"
"I believe elementals would be unable to channel their elements. But this is just a hypothesis. I haven't had the opportunity to test it out yet."
"Lends itself to some interesting questions,” Athena murmured, primarily to herself.
"Indeed it does,” boomed Deryk Shea from the doorway. He cradled something that looked a lot like an architectural model in his arms. He walked in and set it on the table between them. Three glass and chrome towers rose from a park-like landscape, the center tower nearly twice as tall as the two buildings that flanked it in a shallow vee pattern.
"What the hell is that?” Athena asked, peering suspiciously at the model.
"I call it ‘P’ Squared,'” the homely little immortal replied in an off-hand manner. “The new Paranormal Plaza, containing the headquarters for AthenaCorp, Shea Industries, and the P
aranormal Affairs Commission.” He pointed at each tower in turn, the middle one—and the tallest—reserved for the last designation. “I've already gotten permission from the city planners to build an island out there—"he gestured past them out the window toward Commencement Bay—"and have these three towers, along with the landscape they rise from, built for our exclusive use."
"And you didn't consider consulting with me beforehand?"
"Told you she'd be irritated,” said Nemesis Breed, smirking as she came through the doorway behind him.
"Not so much irritated,” the Amazon replied, “but baffled. How'd you get the EPA to sign off on this one?"
"I can be remarkably ... convincing,” Shea answered with a sly smile.
Athena blew out a explosive breath, causing a dark forelock to dance away from her brow. “Shit, Deryk. I guess it's a good idea. But how'd you take the plans to the city council and the EPA without me signing off on it first?"
"No worries,” he replied. “I forged your signature."
Athena's face screwed into an expression that appeared to be a convoluted cross between anger and amusement. “Take a lot on yourself, don't you?"
"What—you're going to argue that it's not needed? The PAC shouldn't be working out of either of our corporate buildings. It needed a building of its own. We can even lease out some of the floors for groups like Sash and that new vampire coalition Rachel Flynn is so set on putting together.” He aimed a glance at Loki. “Wish you had've invited me to this little get-together. I have some questions I want to throw at you myself."
"Shoot,” the Trickster said with a nearly imperceptible shrug.
"How many lycanthropes do you think there are?"
This was obviously not what Loki was expecting. His brow furrowed as he considered the question. “I don't know ... maybe a couple of hundred world-wide. Their numbers are probably going to jump sooner or later, but right now that's a good estimate. All mammalian, stemming from predatory species."
"That answers my next question. I've noticed that Ben has a great deal of control over his changes, and doesn't seem prone to running amuck. Is this normal?"
"Fairly—believe it or not. The primate brain takes precedence, though there does seem to be some instinctive behavior. Why?"
"Well ... I just got the weirdest report from Greenland. Apparently a fisherman was bitten by an orca several days ago and is now exhibiting symptoms of the lycanthropy virus."
"An orca?” Loki just sat dumbfounded for a second.
"That's not all. Another fisherman—this one off the coast of Nova Scotia—was chomped by a seal—of all things—and, yes, he's picked up the virus as well."
"Are you telling me we've got a were-orca and a were-seal out there?"
"That's what it looks like. They haven't ‘shifted yet, but it's only a matter of time."
"That actually reminds me of something I've been wondering,” Raven said. “How do lycanthropes gain and lose so much mass during transformation? Even Ben picks up at least five hundred pounds when he goes into full were-form."
"Same answer as for the elementals,” Loki replied. “The effect has to draw upon mana. There's no other reasonable explanation for the violation of the principle of conservation of mass."
"That's how dragons are able to do it, isn't it?” Amanda asked. As the only one of them besides Loki, and possibly Athena, who'd ever met a dragon, she had a reference point the rest of them didn't.
Loki nodded. “But dragons are magic using creatures anyway. I didn't design them with the ability in mind, but they seem to have picked it up on their own somewhere along the way."
"Well, I'm glad that's covered,” Athena drawled. “So was there a real point to this meeting, or did you just want to see our faces while you gave us information you could've dropped in our e-mail boxes?"
Loki grinned. “E-mail is just so damn impersonal. I knew you all would have questions and—as you know—I don't particularly like using e-mail for stuff like this."
Athena gave him a flat-eyed glare. She much preferred e-mail and Loki knew it. At his lack of response she sighed and turned to Raven. “So what's the story behind that vampire nastiness in Ruston the other night?"
"Didn't you read my report?"
"What—your two line commentary? ‘Vamps were fighting over territory. Told them to deal with it or I'd be back.’ That's not a report, Raven."
"How much more detail did you need?” he responded with a tight smile. “I thought it covered it pretty well."
"You thought wrong,” she answered dryly. “Try giving details—like the names of the apparent leaders, for one."
"Oh. Well, I volunteered some young local vamp named Rio to represent the natives and an outsider named Brendan to speak for the ‘interlopers'."
"See. That wasn't too painful, now was it?"
"Not really. Of course, reporting in person is easier than typing it out anyway."
"You're just saying that because you can't type,” Amanda snorted.
"I can type,” he objected.
"Hunt and peck doesn't count,” she answered back, “even if you can reach seventy words a minute doing it."
"His typos more than make up for it,” Athena supplied with a tight grin. “Believe me, I'm not sure if they're typos or due to the fact he can't spell."
"When did this become a ‘pick on Raven’ session?” the vampire asked irritably, looking between the two of them.
"Good question,” said Shea absently, picking the model up from the table. “I would imagine we've all got better things to do than needle the vamp.” He aimed a glance over his shoulder at Breed, who stood in the doorway; arms folded across her chest, watching the proceedings with a desperately bored look on her face. “So, Athena—how much longer do I have to play bodyguard? I think I'm getting on her last nerve."
"That happened days ago,” Breed replied with a deceptively sweet smile. “My last nerve is screaming for relief and in danger of expiring on the spot."
Athena looked remarkably unimpressed. “Sorry to hear that. The bodyguarding goes on until further notice."
"Gee, thanks,” Breed muttered darkly.
"You're welcome. Anything else?"
"Oh, go piss up a rope,” Breed growled, then stalked out of the room.
"I wasn't joking,” Shea said, watching her go. “She's as tired of this as I am."
"You two will just have to come to terms with it. We can't afford the resources it would take to eliminate the threat, even if we could get there—which Chaz can't, or won't, guarantee—and she's too valuable to lose."
He uttered a barely audible sigh. “I understand. Doesn't mean I have to like it."
"Come with me.” Athena stood and practically dragged him down the hall to her office. She closed the door behind them and leaned her butt against her desk, folding her arms in front of her and glaring down at him. “What the hell is up with you two, anyway? This personal animosity isn't like you."
"I don't have any animosity toward her, Athena.” He shook his head. “She resents having a bodyguard, I think, and even more that it's me."
"I find that hard to believe,” Athena replied tersely. “You have any idea why?"
He shrugged. “I suppose it's because she made a personal advance and I shot it down."
"Figures. Why?"
He met her glare with one of his own. “Isn't it obvious? She's a mortal. I'm not going to get involved just to watch her die in a few years."
"Never one for casual sex, were you, Deryk?"
"Hardly. Why do you think I've remained chaste for so long?"
If he was expecting a sympathetic reaction, he was sorely mistaken. “Personally, I think you're being a horse's ass about the whole thing. And selfish to boot."
"Selfish? You're kidding me, right?” He spoke through a clenched jaw, body stiffening and his stance radiating dark anger.
"Yeah. Selfish. You're trying to save yourself pain and hurting her in the process."
"Wh
at the fuck business is it of yours?” he snarled. His gray eyes narrowed with hostility. “This was all part of your plan, wasn't it? Damn you, Athena—you're meddling where you don't belong. My love life—or lack of it—has nothing to do with you. You're trying to use my promise to manipulate me into a relationship with her and that's just bullshit!"
"Sorry you feel that way, Deryk. Nevertheless, I'm not replacing you as bodyguard. You're just going to have to come to terms with it."
"Come to terms...” He seemed to choke on his words as he stepped forward, hands balling into fists. “You conniving, manipulative bitch."
She laughed out loud. “You're not fooling me, you realize. The reason you're getting so pissed is that you do have feelings for her. The longer you spend in her company, the harder you're finding it to resist."
This comment froze him in his tracks. He stared at her, jaw dropping a little. Then he let out a short, barking laugh. “You're good. I didn't even see that coming."
Her answering smile was tight. “You know she had a brief fling with Stormchild, didn't you?"
He shook his head, deflating a little. “No. Bet that didn't turn out too well."
"You're right. It didn't. Casual sex is quite all right with him, but it isn't her way."
"Did you warn her first?"
"I tried—but you know how convincing he can be."
"One of these days some woman's really going to get her claws in him and he'll get what he deserves."
"Real happiness?” She flashed an open grin and shrugged. “Maybe. But what about you, Deryk?"
"What about me? You know what it's like. You hit upon a bit of luck hooking up with Fenris. You two are well suited for one another. And you're both immortal. Same with Loki and Renee. Most of us aren't going to be that fortunate."
"Fortune is what you make it. Even among mortals most relationships are transitory. People grow apart, people fall ill, people die. Every time they get involved with someone they run the risk of getting their heart broken in the process. Doesn't stop them."
"We're not talking ‘risk’ here, Athena. We know that if we get involved with a mortal, we're going to lose them. Period."
"So? Back on our world, didn't you know that your marriage carried similar risks? Or didn't you think that it might have been worse for her? You were a warrior. A starship captain. Every time you went out you had to know you might not come back. And that was before we discovered the Centian threat.
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