He had some grey mixed on his dark short hair and some on his trimmed, thin mustache, a strong jaw line, and dark eyes that regarded me steadily. His posture was rigid and alert. He seemed familiar, but I was sure I had never met him before.
I shifted my gaze to his companion, who had remained guarding the door and recognized him instantly.
Except, this time, his aura didn't have that silvery shine to it, but was completely blue, as plain as that of an ordinary human. His eyes clinically studied the tear and blood on my right knee, then he looked up and his eyes met mine.
I braced myself for the yellow flash, but nothing happened. His expression was guarded, neutral, and he gave no sign of recognition. His black depthless eyes regarded me steadily, pulling at some vague memory from my mind.
Sudden vision of a cold desert night and a steady drum of a heartbeat filled my head. I felt a bolt of shock at the realization that I had seen this man not only with a different aura, but also in an alternative form.
Another piece of the mysterious puzzle of my life fell into place. Vincent was the person General Parkinson had been talking about. He had helped me in Vegas… he'd been the reason Remo Drammen had left me alone. Had Logan known? Teamed with him? One distracted, the other extracted? And oh, I just remembered why the names seemed familiar. Surprise, surprise, weren't Roland and Vince two of the names Logan and Rafael had been discussing when I was eavesdropping from the bathroom?
My life just kept dealing me more and more surprises.
“I know you. I saw you in Vegas.” My gaze shifted back to the older man, and he nodded an affirmative. His aura was blue but, considering that his companion's aura had been different the last time I saw him, that didn't mean much.
My gaze shifted back to the younger man—Vincent Vagner—and I wondered if Roland was ordinary, did he know his second had another nature?
“Miss Fosch, May I call you Roxanne?” Roland asked.
I looked at him, but I didn't agree or refuse.
“Very well. Let us start from the beginning. My name is Roland Mackenzie, and this is my second, Vincent Vagner Howard. I am responsible for the organization and leadership of an elite group called The Hunters. We're a very small but efficient group who help those with extra abilities to adhere to the law and keep them from abusing and exercising their power by force against ordinary human beings. We have a permanent base in Manhattan, but attend to strange occurrences all over the U.S.” He paused, lacing his hands behind his back before continuing, “We are, Miss Fosch, in layman's terms, law enforcement for the preternatural community.”
A thought flashed in my mind. Was he here to supervise my punishment for all the damage, all the bodies, all the laws I had broken? Strangely enough, my fake ID was among my concerns.
“That's great. Now, tell me what is it that you want and get it over with.”
I caught a flash of amusement in his eyes before he nodded and said, “Very well. I have been following events and am interested in recruiting you as a new member of my team.”
Say that again? Caught off guard, I did a quick replay of his words to make sure I understood them correctly. Events? What events? Since when? I studied him for any signs of humor. Because surely this was a joke. If he was the equivalent of the police in the preternatural community, he should have known I was the criminal.
“Let me see if I understand this right. You want me to join a group of people who police the preternaturals?” I finally said.
“Indeed.”
Still no humor.
My eyes shifted to Vincent.
“That's what you do?” I asked him.
His reply was a mere incline of the head. His black eyes remained fixed on mine.
I shifted back to Roland. “And who polices ordinary humans when they abuse preternaturals?” I asked, this time catching him off guard.
“If we receive a complaint about ordinary humans abusing a person in a situation where ordinary law enforcement is not able to deal with, then yes, we are called in. However, I'll be honest with you and tell you outright that in all my years, we have never encountered a situation where a preternatural, no matter if beta or gamma, wasn't able to defend himself against an ordinary human.”
I was one, I thought to myself. But nodded, approving his honesty. “So, you want me to join a group that polices illegal preternatural movement in the U.S.?”
“And sometimes abroad.”
“And if I agree, you'll get me out of here?” With all the strings attached?
“Yes, exactly.”
“So what, I say yes, just like that, and abracadabra, I'm free?”
“Essentially, yes.”
“Essentially,” I repeated. I looked from Roland to Vincent, then back again. “So, what's the catch?”
“There is none.”
“Well then, open the cage and let's go,” I said, but neither one of them moved.
“This is not a decision to be made lightly, Miss Fosch. I will be honest and tell you upfront, it will not be an easy job. It's hard work with the visual of an Oscar-winning horror show. It's waking up in the middle of the night to stop a werewolf on rampage. To go after a vampire serial killer. To stop a cult of mages from practicing human sacrifices. Breaking up deadly fights between two or more factors.” He regarded me. “Depending on how you look at it, staying here might even be the better option for you. You will be targeted in every single operation you join, and sometimes just your job description will be reason enough for some to come after you.”
“But why me? Why not Rafael, or Logan, or even Archer?” I looked at Vincent when I mentioned the latter. “They already know what to do. Me, I can barely keep myself afloat.”
“You're a tool,” Roland said unapologetically, “one that has never been put to use, and when a tool is sharpened enough, honed to a point, it can be used for almost anything. It outdoes any other in the box. I want you, because, frankly, you're a novice. Any preternatural creature at your age is already a matured alpha in the jungle. Your inexperience gives me an advantage to shape you exactly as I want you to be. Don't fool yourself, Miss Fosch, in this bargain, I'll be coming out the winner.”
For a long time while I contemplated, they made no comments or pressed me with suggestions. I wondered what the PSS thought about them. If they had any say, I would never be joining their team. Did Roland deal with them already, not giving them any choice? Or perhaps he was unaware under which circumstances I was being held?
I pursed my lips and frowned at him. “What makes you think the Scientists will let me go?” Because I had looked at Vincent when I made the question, I saw the feral gleam that entered his eyes. I had a feeling he was looking forward for their protest.
“I can override any of their orders. The Hunters is a highly appreciated government group. Without us, the power balance would have tipped long ago, and not to their advantage.” He inclined his head to me and added, “If you agree, I can get you out of here in no time at all.”
“So, I give up the prisoner routine for the puppet one?” I asked, thinking about Remo Drammen. “What's in it for me?”
“Besides the freedom?” he asked in a tone that suggested it should be enough. “It's a job contract. Some days you will be on call. Others you work for eight hours straight, sometimes riding a desk, sometimes in the field. We'll provide you accommodations, transportation, paid bills, a legal ID and a monthly salary.”
I raised my eyebrows. “All that?”
“All I want is your agreement that you'll become the newest member of my team, undergo the appropriate training, and serve to your fullest capacity once your training is completed. And believe me, when you see the type of freaks you hunt and the trouble they cause, you'll understand why I'll be coming out on top.”
I was silent for a long moment. “Sir, I don't think you know who or what I am. Why don't you ask a guard for a report about what I have been doing for the past twenty-four hours?” No need to raise my hopes just to have the
m smashed again.
Roland regarded me again with that steady gaze. “Miss Fosch, I'm willing to consider your past deeds nothing but the desperate actions of someone trying to defend herself and survive. I do not agree to the terms that this facility happened to become your custodians, and I would like you to know from the beginning that I do not tolerate the mistreatment of children, be them ordinary or otherwise.”
My eyes shifted to Vincent. Did he share Roland's point of view? If he did, he either hadn't known about me, or had been powerless to do anything about it. I doubted the latter. He either hadn't known, or he didn't care.
I shifted my gaze back to Roland. “There is a catch,” I muttered.
No good deed happened to me like that.
“No catch,” he reassured.
“What are the terms?”
“Mainly that you do your best in a job. The rest are just legalities.”
“And I walk out of here? Free? No one hunting me, no more hiding?”
“The moment you agree, you are one of mine.”
I thought about it. I'd get a job, a place to bunk in, a mode of transportation, and most important of all, my freedom. What else one could ask for?
“How long will I have to serve? A lifetime?”
“Nothing so dramatic. This first contract, we'll start with twenty years. After that, you can either choose to renew or walk.”
Almost as long as I've been alive. “Five. Five years, after that the contract is open for negotiation.”
“Twenty years of your life is just a blink among many.”
“Five or nothing,” I told him. “The PSS only has a claim on me for a few years more. I have to endure less than five years here then walk free to do whatever I want.” Surprise flickered on his face. He didn't know I knew about that. I ignored it and continued. “I'm willing to change the PSS's shackle for yours, but the time frame will be the same. If I discover I have an affinity for the job, after the obligatory five years, we can discuss your terms.”
Roland leveled me a look I could only call calculating.
“Very well, five years and the contract is open for negotiation.”
“I'm not done. I want Logan, Archer and Rafael to walk out with me.”
His lips thinned, forming a straight line and a crease appeared between his brows.
Had I gone too far? The truth was, I would have signed a contract for my entire life for those entitlements he mentioned and bargaining for Rafael and Archer was not a priority. But Logan would keep coming back for them and would keep getting caught no matter how many times he got bailed out.
Roland turned to Vincent and some silent conversation went on. Then Roland shook his head once and turned back to me with an unreadable expression. “I'm afraid that's not in my power. They have broken the law.”
“So have I,” I said before I could think better about it. Taking a deep breath, I tried again. “Sir, this will only cost a couple more papers to you.”
He considered me. “Do you have any idea how many legs I have to pull, how many ladders I have to climb?”
“No, but I know you can do it.”
He moved a few paces closer, hands behind his back, his dark eyes intent on mine. “What are you willing to exchange for my trouble?”
An image of Lee danced in my mind. My heart skipped a beat before I could tell myself this situation was different. If nothing else, I could go and find Douglas, see if he could do anything about them. If he couldn't… well, “What do you have in mind?”
“Fifteen years. Five for each.”
I narrowed my eyes at his serious expression. The bastard, he'd been counting on that.
Maybe I could leave Rafael and Archer behind. After all, I owed them nothing.
“Five—for the three,” I said.
“Done,” he readily agreed, flashing me a genuine smile. “Welcome to my team, Miss Fosch.”
And just like that, I was no longer a captive.
“You can read the contract now. Vincent will answer to your questions while I go file a petition to get you out.” He sounded like he was bailing me out of jail. I supposed that, in a way, he was doing exactly that.
At the door, he paused beside Vincent and said, “Vincent will be the one to oversee your training. I believe that once he's done, you'll be among my best.”
He left after that, and no sooner was he gone then the humming on the bars of my cell disengaged. I eyed Vincent wearily for a moment. The last time I had seen him he had six legs and was bigger than a bear. I had bitten him. He had left me in a back alley.
I had a million questions, but was smart enough to consider the possibility of listening devices. If I were to work with him I would have enough time to quench all my curiosity.
I stepped out of the cell and Vincent handed me the stack of papers he produced from the inside pocket of his suede jacket.
We moved over to an empty desk on the corner, but neither of us pulled out the chairs tucked neatly underneath it. “What's with the shadow?” he asked casually, his voice a deep baritone.
Huh? I looked down, searching for what he meant, but I was standing almost under the brightly neon lights and I couldn't see any shadows. I searched his; it wouldn't surprise me to have found one stretching long behind him and discover that my shadow was not a normal one. But he didn't have one either.
I frowned at him. “What do you mean?”
He shook his head, but I think I saw a flicker of surprise in his eyes.
I picked the contract and began reading it. There was a lot of legal jargon, so I read it twice, then once more. I goggled at the salary and was surprised to know the “accommodation” was a fixed address of a furnished apartment near the Hunters' base in New York.
Because the original contract had the twenty years obligatory period, we agreed I would sign the altered contract once we reached the base.
We left immediately on the Hunters' private jet and I couldn't put enough distance between me and the PSS. My only regret was that I didn't get to see Logan before we left. Roland had explained as we drove to the airport that there were papers to be signed from higher up, that it could take a few hours before Logan, Rafael, and Archer could be released and that he couldn't stay to oversee it all, but that Vincent had made arrangements to ensure they weren't mistreated in any way.
Chapter Sixty-Two
By the time we reached New York, night was in its full glory in the city that never sleeps. Roland dropped Vincent and me by the Plaza Hotel where he had reserved us two connecting rooms for the night. He would return in the morning and take us to base so I could sign my contract and officially become a Hunter member.
Looking down at Central Park at night, I dialed Logan's number from memory, telling myself I was just making sure Roland hadn't lied to me. But it was Rafael who answered the phone, informing me Logan had gone out for food and that they had made it out of there all right. I told myself the disappointment I felt was just annoyance Rafael wasn't bubbling with gratitude for my timely interference.
Instead, I thought about knocking at Vincent's door, demanding all the answers I needed—and was due—but I knew there were some personal ones he wouldn't be able to answer.
But someone else could, and I contemplated how to ditch my escort.
Bracing a hand on the window, I watched the silent activity of the busy night in the city that would become my home for the next decade, and began to plan.
Skyscrapers illuminated the sky, hiding any evidence of stars, or the clouds that no doubt covered it. Vehicles clogged the streets and, despite the late hour and the chill outside, there were people everywhere.
Not for the first time, I wished I had a normal life, that I wasn't so alone in the world. Now more than ever.
I watched a man jog into the park, an enormous white dog running beside him.
“Maybe I should get myself a pet,” I murmured to myself. “A cat, because they're not as dependent as dogs.” I watched the jogger and the dog disappear
into the park, letting the idea spread root inside me.
A cat. A white one, I thought. I'd name him… I recalled the creatures of the Low Lands and the names I gave them and chuckled loudly.
“Frizz. I'd name him Frizz.” No sooner had the name left my lips when the air beside me began to shimmer—like heat and vapor on hot asphalt—into a small figure.
With a squeak I jumped back, dropping the phone from my hand. The air around me gained a certain ozone-like quality with ear popping pressure, and suddenly the shimmer gained form and substance, shaping into a figure no larger than a toddler.
“Massster. You sssummoned,” the creature hissed at the same time Vincent opened the connecting door and poked his head inside my room.
I looked at Vincent, then at Frizz's shell-shaped dark eyes, then back at Vincent, then back at Frizz again, the three spots that formed a triangular shape beneath his left eye strangely reminding me of oversized freckles.
“Frizz? What are you doing here?” I asked. My heart was hammering hard and my ears needed popping.
“I heard a noise.” Vincent inquired.
I looked at him again, at his waiting-for-an-answer expression. He wasn't surprised with the out-of-place, alien creature crouched there just a few feet away.
“He's the shadow!” I accused indignantly. “You were talking about Frizz!”
Vincent raised his eyebrows high on his forehead, causing them to half disappear underneath his hairline. “Whatever'd you name a shadow for?” The amused look in his eyes stiffened my back.
I looked back at Frizz and frowned at him. Dozens of random questions danced in my head all at the same time. What would Vincent think if I told him I named eleven others with cartoon character names?
Had I just stepped on it? Thank God he couldn't attack someone he was bound to.
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