Grey was looking at Glen with unexpected admiration. All three of his team were thinking that the potential ambush might have turned out to be the best thing for the success of the mission.
Glen offered his hand to the king. "Glendennon Catch. I'm here on behalf of Black Swan. I believe you've met Sir Hawking."
Grey stepped off the porch and greeted Ram with a handshake, then introduced himself to Storm.
"Since we're having a small get-together of a private nature, I thought we could talk at my house. The tribe's two elders are already there waiting."
Grey turned to Ram. "How was your flight?"
"Actually we used another method of transport. 'Tis related to what we came to discuss. Mr. Catch knows all the particulars, so I'll be lettin' him fill you in.
"'Tis a beautiful place you have here. A little cold maybe."
Stalkson Grey laughed at that. "It's funny to hear you say that because lately I often find myself feeling too warm."
"Aye. Well, 'tis probably the menopause."
Glen froze in his tracks and held his breath, wishing to all the gods, as much as he loved and admired him, that Rammel had stayed home.
Grey stopped moving. Then, seeing the twinkle in Ram's eye, he threw back his head and laughed. "You know, Sir Hawking, you and your mate are the only people I know who aren't afraid of me even a little. It's... refreshing." As they continued walking, Grey slapped Ram on the back. Then, in a more serious tone, he said, "You know I'm not experiencing the menopause."
Ram took another couple of steps before asking, "How do you know?"
There was a hitch of hesitation in Grey's stride, but he broke out in laughter all over again when he realized he'd been teased, not once but twice. And all in the same day.
Grey's lodge was stately in its own way. It was a tribute to Northwest Pacific art and architecture. There was a comfortable conversation area by a large free-standing rock fireplace that could be seen from both the living area and the kitchen beyond. A small, cheery wood fire was burning and filling the house with the delicious aroma of green wood and sap.
Two old werewolves sat on either side of the fire like bookends. Grey introduced them as Drift and LongPaw and they rose without the effort normally expected with age. A tall woman with wholesome, natural good looks brought in a tray with six wooden mugs and set it down on the knee-high table. Each member of the impromptu Black Swan team looked at the liquid they were holding, but couldn't begin to tell what it was.
"I'm told this takes the chill away, Sir Hawking." Grey tipped his mug.
It was some sort of ale, warm and delicious.
"This is wonderful. Thank you." Glen offered his appreciation and accepted another mug from the nameless woman with a nod.
Grey nodded. "We hope you have some encouraging news for us."
Glen smiled. "We do."
In many ways Glen was the ideal Black Swan ambassador for that particular mission. He dealt with the dominance parrying by flicking his gaze away from the king every five beats or so. It was long enough to let Grey know that he was also an alpha personality who should be respected, but not long enough to be interpreted as a challenge to his authority or position. Although the king didn't say so, he appreciated The Order's astute choice of representative.
As the afternoon wore on, Glen explained about the windfall opportunity that had presented itself for the unmated to relocate. A few questions were asked about the nature of multiple dimensions. The old werewolves seemed to be blasé about it, as if they were already familiar with the concept.
As a picture of a possible future slowly took form in Stalkson Grey's mind, he began to realize he was feeling something he hadn't felt in such a very, very long time. So long he could hardly pair a name with the feeling.
Was it excitement? Maybe. Another question followed close on the heels of that conclusion. What did that mean?
Was he excited about the prospect of averting the catastrophe of extinction? Was it excitement about the prospect of seeing light and life come back into the eyes of his young male wolves? Then an unbidden thought entered his mind. He couldn't possibly be excited about the fact that somewhere out there were enough females for old wolves as well.
He pushed that thought away, but found himself looking at the elders and thinking that perhaps he wasn't so old. When he left the reservation, didn't the human women stare at him with something that looked like heat? Perhaps he could still be appealing to female wolves as well?
He realized that it was quiet. Everyone had been looking at him while his mind had wandered into the realm of smoke and fantasy. Dreams.
Turning to the elders, he said, "What do you think?"
Drift spoke first. "There are stories about wolf people who left our world long ago. It is good to know their journey was fruitful. They found a better place and survived.
"We should have a tribe meeting and decide which wolves will go. All the young males will say yes, but their families will be sad. Some might find mates who would be willing to come back to Elk Mountain, but I'm not convinced that would be the best thing. The world is changing. It becomes less friendly to the wolf people every day.
"It will be hard to see our young ones go away forever. It would mean many tears, but it is the best thing."
Stalkson looked at Drift without speaking for a long time. Then he looked into the fire for an equally long time before turning to the other elder. "LongPaw. What do you think?"
"I agree with the ancient one." Glen, Ram, and Storm simultaneously glanced over at the other elder being referenced as 'ancient'. To them, he looked the same age as the speaker. "For the young men who will keep the spirit of the wolf people alive, it will be a great and marvelous adventure to share with their great-great-grandchildren. For the mothers who say goodbye to their sons forever, it will be a source of sorrow.
"Still, it must be done. Every path is imperfect. You must choose the one that will keep the wolf people alive. Somewhere."
Stalkson studied his hands for a few minutes. "The descendants of old ones who left this world for a better life are proof that the legends are true.
"It occurs to me that you didn't mention restrictions. Has Black Swan stipulated that only young men can go?"
Glen shook his head. "No such restriction has been indicated at this point, but we also have nothing to offer you. The purpose of this conversation is to confirm interest. Once we have that, we will initiate a search. We can't move your people without first gaining permission from the tribes that currently occupy the territories under consideration. We can't make promises about what to expect, but we can promise to start searching for tribes open to integration or worlds with enough lands.
"In a perfect universe we would find a tribe somewhere with an abundance of females without mates."
Stalkson and the two elders laughed at that. Grey looked from Glen to Ram to Storm and back to Glen.
"It is decided then. If room can be found for us in a world that is good for our kind, we will explore this course of action. We'll call a meeting to determine interest."
Glen nodded. "As soon as we know whether we're trying to find a few brides or plan an exodus, we'll get started. But no decision will be made without your approval." He hurried to add that last part, not wanting any misunderstandings because of a misstep on protocol.
"Let me ask you one more thing." Glen looked straight into Grey's eyes without flinching or showing any sign of discomfort. "Would you want to personally accompany the, um, entity on scouting missions?"
Grey indicated no hesitation whatsoever. His answer was quick and forceful. "Yes, Mr. Catch. I would like that very much."
"Don't speak too soon. His personality is a bit quirky and he can be, um, unpredictable."
The king looked amused that Glen was worried about... what? His feelings getting hurt?
"I'm sure we'll work it out."
They stood.
"The Elk Mountain Tribe thanks you and please thank those who sent y
ou as well."
Grey shook hands with Ram last. He smiled with a little mischief in his steel blue eyes. "Please give Mrs. Hawking my fond regards."
Ram laughed in his face. "No' a chance. If you want to call her that, do it yourself."
Grey smiled in a way that indicated that he would do exactly that the next time he saw her.
The three were quiet on their way back to the guard station. The breeze in the open air jeep was cold on their faces and stung a little. Storm was thinking that Glen could not possibly have handled himself better. One of the things they needed to establish was whether or not he would be taken seriously by powerful personalities like the one they had just spent the afternoon with.
The demonstration of alpha traits had been a bonus, a surprise bonus. Storm almost chuckled to himself, but didn't want to have to explain to the kid that the show of dominance had been both entertaining and highly encouraging regarding his career prospects. Storm was feeling better by the minute about the possibility of Glen surviving Z Team. Maybe he would even accept Sol's wager.
In the backseat by himself, Ram was taking in the remarkable beauty of the scenery, the sights, the smells. Even the discomfort of a frozen face was good in its own way.
He thought, I wish Elora was here to share this. And that's when it hit him, what Elora had been trying to say all along. That life confined to a box, even if it was a big, functional box like Jefferson Unit or a big, luxurious box like the palace she grew up in, was a compromise of life's potential. To a species that craved freedom, it was a shadowy imitation of living. A punishment. Not a joy.
As he watched trees pass he began to contemplate deep-end philosophical questions of the sort that he usually avoided. Questions like whether it was better to live confined or die free. By the time the jeep came to a stop, he had decided that he needed to be a worse protector and a better listener.
They left the jeep where they had picked it up and waved to the guard on their way out.
When they'd walked until they were out of sight, Glen said to Storm, "How will you let them know we're ready to be picked up?"
Storm gave Glen a wry look followed by a smirk as he withdrew his cell phone from his glove pocket and held it up.
Baka asked Elora if she would like to accompany him for his official introduction to the five vampire that Glen had started calling Delta Kappa Fang. Having a known ally sit in on an initial meeting could never hurt.
They opened the door. Four of the vampire were lounging on and about the sofa facing the huge screen TV. They were watching reruns of "Buffy" with the volume turned up so loud that Baka and Elora almost missed hearing Javier shout, "Oui. Stake the ugly motherfucker."
Elora was thinking, Wow. Everything really does sound better with a French accent. The vamps seemed to have a talent for creating surreal moments. Watching the vampire watch Buffy, and watching the vampire root for Buffy to stake the ugly mofo, certainly qualified as surreal.
The vampire who always seemed to be more subdued had been sitting away from the others at a game table at the back of the room, quietly observing. His attention had shifted to Baka and Elora and he was watching them with open curiosity. Since the others hadn't even noted their presence, Elora headed in his direction and Baka followed.
The vampire stood when she came close enough to extend her hand.
"Hello. I'm Elora Laiken. This is Istvan Baka. He's actually head of the task force assigned to eradicate the vampire virus. You'll be working for him."
The vampire shook hands with first Elora, then Baka, and nodded to each respectively. "Jean Etienne. I am the garde d'enfants." Elora noticed Baka jerk his head toward the four who were watching TV.
"Garde d'enfants? I don't know what that is." She was asking Baka for a translation.
Jean Etienne motioned for them to sit as if he was the unquestionable host entertaining guests at his own home.
When they were seated, Baka turned toward Elora. "He said he's their babysitter."
The garde d'enfants frowned at the simplified explanation. "Their families pay me to watch them, to keep them safe. And to keep them from being cause of harm so they grow up."
His Anglish was so heavily accented that Elora had to listen carefully.
"I see." She glanced at Baka. "You're saying they're children."
"Juvénile."
Baka asked for clarification in a brief conversation Elora didn't understand. He nodded then turned to her. "My best guess is that they're post-pubescent, the equivalent of fourteen or fifteen-year-olds." Elora's gaze wandered to the vampire watching TV, who looked more like early twenties. "They're mature physically - as you see, but their emotional development is slower. They're going to live for..." Baka turned to Jean Etienne. "How long will they live?"
"How long?"
"Yes."
He shrugged looking mystified by the question. "As long as they wish."
A stunning answer to be sure. So much so that it froze Baka and Elora while they tried to process the presence of virtual immortals.
"They've agreed to help us? And you can manage them?"
"Manage them? It is my job. Oui. They will be managed. If you do not try to poison us with more of your blood substitute.
"Have they agreed? They are not presented with a choice. They will help. Is good for them. Like your... ah... community service."
"Community service." Baka repeated it back in a quiet monotone. He seemed to be processing, but each new revelation was more stunning than the last.
"Oui. For all we know your problem may have genesis by one of their own brothers. Or fathers."
Noticing that Baka was staring blankly, his eyes a little unfocused, Elora took over. "We have developed a cure for the condition. We call it a vaccine. It's a liquid that is packaged in a small vial. It enters the system when the skin is punctured, in much the same way that the disease was passed to the infected individual. Our biggest problem is that we need to be sure it doesn't get into your systems because we don't know what it would do to you."
Jean Etienne barked out a laugh. It was the first time he had smiled and, it turned out, that he had one of those faces that transformed into sardonically engaging with a large dollop of sexual suggestion.
"No." He shook his head. "That is not our biggest problem." He emphasized the word "our" in a way that could have been interpreted as sarcasm. "Our biggest problem is keeping their minds on the ugly vampire and not on the pretty femmes."
Elora looked at the TV screen. "Great Paddy."
Baka followed her gaze, then laughed and started shaking his head.
"No. The vampire we must... Let me start over. We are apparently not looking for vampire. We're looking for humans whose systems reacted very badly to certain chemical properties in your fluids. These sick humans don't look like the vampire on "Buffy"."
"No?" J.E.'s response was so nasally French and so comically delivered that Elora started giggling and couldn't stop. For the first time since these creatures had interrupted dinner by chasing Litha into the middle of the tightest security facility in the whole of Black Swan, the entire idea of immortal French, skirt-chasing vampire struck her as hilarious.
"Elora?" Baka ventured with caution. "Is something wrong?"
"They..." She waved a hand at Jean Etienne. "... are the reason why The Order exists. All this trouble... And it was a giant cosmic fucking joke accident." Baka reached out and let his hand curl around her shoulder. She searched his eyes, looking uncharacteristically vulnerable. "Do you know what they did to me?"
Baka swallowed hard and nodded. "You know I do. I was there. It was unspeakable. Do you know what they did to me?"
Her eyes seem to clear up a little and she whispered, "Yeah. There's nothing funny about vampire, huh?"
He smiled. "I once said something similar to Kay when we were in Ireland."
While Jean Etienne studied their exchange closely, they had all but forgotten he was there until he spoke. "So. You are lovers, no?"
&
nbsp; They both looked at him like he was crazy and, in perfect unison, said, "No!"
He held up his hands, palms outward, as if to say, "Don't mind me. And don't shoot me either. I'm just an innocent immortal vampire with a French attitude."
Elora turned to Baka. "I'm going to check on Helm."
As she started toward the door, Javier noticed her and bounded into her path to intercept her. He smiled and cocked his head to the side. "Hello again. You never answered my question."
"What question?"
He stepped closer, his eyes drifting down to something about her neck that seemed to fascinate him. "If I bite you, will you squeal deliciously for me, my love?"
He reached out to touch her hair. At the moment she didn't have extra patience for vampire. She responded to his overture by lifting him above her head and hurling him into the opposite wall over twenty feet away. He grunted when he hit the wall, and sank to the floor. The other three boys, er, boy vamps, laughed so hard they couldn't make a sound. One slid off the couch and onto the floor so he could hold his ribs while rolling about. The other two leaned on each other.
When the one on the floor was able to speak, he pointed at Javier and said, "Dude! The chick slammed you into the box and set you on your can! Totally!"
Javier didn't bother to get up off the floor. He was laughing as hard as the others. It appeared that they didn't need any encouragement from artificially enhanced blood to have a good time.
Elora looked at Baka over her shoulder. "This Cirque de Dénouement used to be a perfectly respectable clandestine facility." Again, she turned toward the door, talking to herself under her breath. "So this is retirement." Closing the door behind her she heard one of the "boys" say, "Whipped, man." She had to wonder if Rammel had programmed their video feed.
Honestly, every single part of the day had made Elora feel bone tired. Even the fact that Ram had been so uncharacteristically quiet and distant at dinner. It had just been one of those days when things seemed "off".
Moonlight: The Big Bad Wolf (Black Swan 4) Page 13
