by Claire Luana
The fight drained out of me. I was trapped. This creature could snap me in one bite. Even if I somehow got past him, I would never get up the elevator and get free. Was Dad’s secret worth dying for?
I held up my hands, the burn throbbing on one palm. “I surrender.”
The dragon hissed at me, and then its eyes went wide. Its head snaked close, examining the burn, sniffing at me with huge nostrils. I knew he was intelligent, that there was a man in there, but still my stomach quaked with fear at his nearness.
The clamor of boots reached my ears and I turned to the gaping doorway just in time for Konstantin to appear, half a dozen armed men behind him.
“You.” His weapon was trained on me. The dragon’s body was still between us, but it vanished in an instant as the shifter returned to human form.
“She’s surrendered,” the shifter said as Konstantin approached in one fluid movement, the muzzle of his gun still fixed upon me.
And then he shot me.
The Chanji girl crumpled to the ground before him.
“God damn it, Konstantin! She surrendered.” Oliver knelt down to feel her pulse. “You didn’t need to shoot her.”
“Quit your bitching. It was a tranq dart,” Konstantin bit back. “I didn’t need her making a last desperate try for freedom. You could’ve brought the whole fucking base down. Look at this place.” Konstantin surveyed the lower level in dismay. The entire length of the hallway would need reinforcing, the framing and drywall into the Antiquities locker would need replacing—Broussard would be pissed as hell. While they had fairly generous funding thanks to some creative earmarking in the MASC budget, they all preferred using those funds on cutting edge technologies and research, rather than cleaning up their base. “What were you thinking?” he hissed at the doctor. “And will you put on some pants?”
Oliver straightened, standing proudly as naked as the day he’d been born. “I was thinking we had an intruder in our most sensitive level and I needed to do anything necessary to stop her.”
“And you needed to shift to do that? You couldn’t have used some of that Special Forces training?”
“She’s a supe! A naga!” Oliver protested.
“She’s only half-naga.”
Broussard stepped into the room behind them, his thick arms crossed before him. If he was put out by the destruction, he wasn’t showing it. “She’s the daughter of Vizol Chanji and not to be underestimated. Get her to the medical bay and I want her restrained when she wakes. Oliver, put some fucking pants on. Bauer, with me.”
“It marked her,” Oliver called as Broussard turned to go.
“What?” The Director paused.
“Caledfwlch. The sword. She picked it up to defend herself and it marked her. She’s been chosen.”
Broussard nodded stiffly. “We’ll deal with it.”
Konstantin bit back a curse. This was a bigger clusterfuck than Gallipoli.
Konstantin fell into step next to the Director, who asked, “How did this happen? I thought we were settled in our course of action.”
“We were.” Konstantin ground his teeth. “Kimiko went home with the memory serum. I can only assume something went wrong there.”
“Have we spoken to Nakamura?”
“You know as much as I do.”
Broussard stormed into his office, bracing himself against the shelves. When he turned, his eyes were flashing, his fangs lengthened.
Konstantin held his ground. Vampires and werewolves had been historic enemies, but Konstantin had fought alongside many shifters in his day, especially the Rougarou—the Cajun wolves like Broussard. He respected the man and the position of leadership he was in, but Konstantin was an equal in power and skill. He wouldn’t be intimidated.
Broussard sank into his chair, his head in his hands. “Vizol wouldn’t have let something like this happen.”
“We don’t know that.”
“Tartarus has never been breached.”
Konstantin leaned down, his hands braced on the back of one of the chairs opposite Broussard. “With due respect, sir, I’m less concerned for how it happened and more worried about where we go from here.
That seemed to shake the Director back to himself. “Fair point. Send a Phantom to find out what happened to Kimiko. Let’s get Alviya here too; they’re friends, right? Perhaps it will calm Chanji to see a familiar face when she wakes.” Konstantin wasn’t sure knowing another friend had been lying to her would calm Zariya, but he swallowed the comment.
“What about the brand?” He found himself inadvertently fingering the mark on his own palm and stilled his hands.
“You know what it means, Konstantin. She’s one of us. The sword chooses who is worthy.”
“But we only let it test those who’ve trained. Who have fought. Our Phantoms are ex-Special Forces, ex-CIA—the mostly highly trained fighters, intelligence officers, and assassins from around the globe. We can’t just let her in because the sword picked her. It was a fluke. She never should have been near enough to touch it.”
“Wasn’t King Arthur chosen by the sword when he was just a boy?”
“That’s just in the Disney version,” Konstantin said. “Caledfwlch was gifted to him by the fae to mark his sovereignty over Britain—marked him as protector and lord of the land. Just as it marked Vizol as protector of the supernatural races. As it has marked each of us.”
“Including Zariya—”
“I’m not saying she shouldn’t be a Phantom eventually if she wants to. I’m not denying that she has potential. But she would need to train. We only recruit those who are already fully capable, who’ve worked in the field for years. We should wait—”
“You don’t have time to wait.” A female voice sounded from the doorway.
Konstantin turned to find Signe Dirksen striding into the room. Signe was a norn, a Scandinavian fae with the power to see the threads of fate. And sometimes change them. Signe’s knowledge of magic was incredible, just as her sister, Revne’s, grasp of science and technology were beyond anything Konstantin could even hope to understand. The two of them both worked from the base at Tartarus but were integral to the success of Veil Force as a whole, and the teams’ missions in the field.
“What have you seen?” Cyriaque leaned forward.
“Just snatches of futures,” Signe said. “They started when Zariya breached the base. But enough to know that in each of them, Zariya is key to Veil Force’s future. Perhaps all of our futures.” She turned to Konstantin. “Yours especially.”
Konstantin crossed his arms before him. He didn’t see how one willful half-human could have any influence on his future, even if she was Vizol’s daughter.
“So that’s it,” Cyriaque said. “She’s in.”
“No.” Signe was still looking at Konstantin with those penetrating blue eyes. Though Signe was physically blind, it didn’t stop her from seeing more than the rest of them put together. Her magic more than made up for any lack of physical ability. “Konstantin is right. If we ignore the rules with Zariya, it will undermine the Phantoms’ confidence in her. We need to be united as one.”
“But you said we can’t wait,” Cyriaque pointed out. “What are you suggesting?”
“A test,” Signe said. “Make Zariya pass a test to show she’s worthy of joining. It’s the only way to prove to all of us, and herself, that she belongs here.”
“Sounds like a circus,” Konstantin protested. “We don’t have time for this. There’s intel that the Collectors are moving again shortly—“
“We make time.” Cyriaque stood. “We have to. You heard Signe. When has she ever led us astray?”
Konstantin sighed.
Cyriaque nodded to himself, resolved. “We will have this test. I’ll oversee it myself.”
11
I came to in a rush. The dragon shifter…the sword. It had burned me. I pulled my hand up to examine my palm and found myself restrained. Handcuffed to a bed.
What the hell?
&n
bsp; I rattled the handcuffs, pulling at them. I was in some sort of laboratory. Machines blinked around me, and two other beds sat empty beside mine.
“Hey!” I called. “Let me go!”
The dragon shifter appeared around the corner, striding into the room and pulling up a stool beside me. I tried to inch away from him, but I was held fast. He didn’t look angry, though—his tanned face was pleasant. “Zariya, I’m Dr. Oliver Connell. I think we got off on the wrong foot.”
“How do you know who I am?” I asked. Had Kiki told him? Konstantin?
“You’re well known to our organization. Through your father,” Oliver said. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thanks,” I said grudgingly.
“There’s someone here to see you. Do you think you’re up for visitors?”
My curiosity overcame my wariness. “Sure.” My eyes widened when Alviya appeared around the corner, her red hair twisted in a braid over one shoulder.
“Hey.” She sat down on the bed by my knees. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I got attacked by a dragon and shot with a tranq dart,” I snapped. “What the hell are you doing here?”
She patted my leg and cleared her throat. “I work here, Zariya. I have for the last two years.”
What the hell? “You work for a PR company,” I said lamely.
She shook her head. “That’s just my cover. What we do here is secret.”
“You’re what, like a valkyrie James Bond?”
“Not exactly. Counter-intelligence is part of our mission, but not the main focus.”
“What is your mission?” This was too weird. First Kiki, and now Alviya? I was starting to think I didn’t know any of my friends at all.
“I think it’s best if Director Broussard explains everything. Then we can talk more later.”
“Director—wait, Cyriaque Broussard?” The Rougarou werewolf was an old friend of my dad’s and had been around a lot when I was a kid.
“He took over as Director after your dad died.”
Disbelief filled me. Cyriaque was in on this too? It was like the whole world was conspiring against me, all so sure I couldn’t be trusted.
“Does Bas know what you really do?” I asked.
Alviya examined her fingernails. “Actually, Bas works here too. That’s how we met.”
I would have thrown up my hands if they hadn’t been chained to the bed. “What the fuck, Alviya?! You’re all just, what, laughing behind my back about what an idiot I was because I didn’t know your big secret?”
“Of course not.” Alviya grabbed my hand and I hissed. She pulled back, remorse written across her pretty features. “I wanted to tell you a thousand times, we all did. But our work here is top secret clearance only. Your dad recruited me after I became your roommate. Kiki too, although she’d already been here a few years when I joined. I met Bas here. Cyriaque and your father started this place. It wasn’t purposeful; it just unfolded like that. You were so busy in med school…”
“That what, I wouldn’t notice that everyone in my life was a fucking liar sneaking around behind my back?” I closed my eyes, fighting tears.
“Your dad didn’t want you worrying—”
“You don’t get to talk about him. None of you do. He should have told me. He robbed me of this whole…piece of himself. And now I feel like maybe I never really knew him at all.” Dad had been my person. And I had been his. Or so I’d thought.
“You knew him. You knew how much he loved you.”
I closed my eyes. “I think I’m ready to yell at Cyriaque now. If you can unchain me.”
When I finally looked at her, tears shimmered in the corner of Alviya’s obsidian eyes. “I’m so, so sorry Zariya. Please forgive me.”
“Just get these fucking things off me.”
Alviya led me silently through the base. We passed a few rooms of interest: a dining hall where supes were sitting around a table and eating as well as a wide training room where two women sparred. I did my best to ignore it. My focus was on my anger. My rage.
Alviya knocked on the door and it opened to reveal Konstantin Bauer, filling the doorway in a black leather jacket and jeans. My breath caught in my throat, as if the air had been sucked out of the room by his mere presence.
“Zariya.” He nodded, stepping out of the way and crossing his arms across his broad chest. “Created quite a mess down on the fifth floor.”
“You can blame your dragon pet for that,” I said. “I was just looking for some answers.” I thought of the file I’d found with Dad’s records. Who knew where that had gone in all this mess?
“And it’s time you got some.” Cyriaque came around his desk and waved a hand, ushering me inside his office. I crossed my arms. He better not be bullshitting me.
Alviya gave me a weak smile and walked down the hallway with Konstantin, leaving the two of us alone.
Cyriaque looked just as he had the last time I’d seen him—at my father’s funeral. Tall and devilishly good-looking, with thick, chestnut hair and a full beard. His black Armani suit had been exchanged for a white button-down and slacks today, and he wore the sleeves rolled up, revealing strong forearms. I had a hard time reconciling this serious character with the man who’d played Marco Polo with me for hours at the community pool when I was eight.
“Have a seat, Zariya,” he said with his southern drawl, settling down into his own chair. I wanted to be difficult and stand, but I was still feeling a little woozy from the tranquilizers, so I sank into the leather chair across his desk.
“I’m sorry you had to find out this way.”
“You mean you’re sorry I found out at all?” Clearly, me finding out hadn’t been the plan.
He sighed. “How about we start at the beginning. You must have lots of questions. I’m happy to answer them.”
“What the hell is this place?”
“This is Tartarus Base, the home of Veil Force. We’re a covert, black-ops division of MASC. I report directly to the MASC Undersecretary myself.”
“So all this time, when I thought Dad was a diplomat for MASC, he was what, a spy? An assassin? A special operator?” I guess I could see Dad in those roles, but I still couldn’t believe that he wouldn’t tell me. That he’d have this whole other life and lie about it.
“We are whatever MASC needs us to be. Our mission is to protect humans and supes alike from magical and supernatural threats. We investigate and stop terrorist threats, capture or eliminate individuals who have been deemed to be a danger to supernatural security around the globe, find and neutralize hazardous magical items…the list goes on. Our missive is flexible, because the threats are ever-changing.”
“So you’re like a supernatural global police force?”
“Of a sort. But we don’t spend our time enforcing laws. Much of what we do operates in areas where there is no law.”
“And Dad was the Director?” I said in disbelief.
“Your father and I started Veil Force. He was a team leader, and then Director for the last decade. When we served in the Marines, we realized that human military and counter-intelligence groups weren’t equipped to handle many magical and supernatural threats. And, unfortunately, due to prejudices, ensuring supe safety and rights around the world was not a top priority. We pitched Veil Force to the Security Council, and they went for it. Our group is classified, as we’ve found much of our work is more easily done in the shadows. Not to mention humans still get nervous knowing that teams of powerful supes are running around beneath their noses. But our existence is known to a select few—we do collaborate with various UN and foreign government agencies on some missions.”
That was all well and good. This place couldn’t have been more like Dad if his picture had been on the damn brochure. But that wasn’t what I really wanted to know. “Why didn’t he tell me?”
Cyriaque cocked his head, his brown eyes kind. “You were seven years old when we started to build this place. It wasn’t appropriate to discuss it wi
th you and your father didn’t want you worrying about him. You were all each other had, other than Temsula.”
“Still, he should have told me when I got older.”
“He worried. That if he did, it would put you at risk. Or that you’d want to join. He wanted you to follow your dreams, not his.”
“A lot of good that did. My dreams have gone to shit,” I muttered, guilt needling at me. After all the work I’d put into med school, I’d ruined it.
“I know. I’m sorry.”
I crossed my arms over my chest, examining his office. Looking everywhere but at his sympathetic face. The framed photo of him and my dad. An ancient jeweled dagger in a glass box. A watercolor painting of a dark wolf silhouetted against a smoky sunset.
“How many of you are there?”
“We have four teams of six—Phoenix Team is led by Konstantin Bauer, whom I understand you’ve met. The other teams are Aquila, Hydra, and Draco. I led Draco team until your father…well, until I took this job. Then we have a few base support staff like Oliver and Kimiko. A few more.”
“I want to know about Dad’s death. Kiki gave me a fake report, didn’t she?”
Cyriaque leaned forward, running his hands through his hair. “I’m afraid that was my idea, Zariya. I knew you would be like a dog with a bone if you got wind of foul play surrounding your father’s death, and frankly, I didn’t want that for you. He wouldn’t have, either. Vizol would want you living your life, not chasing after revenge.”
“Well, Dad’s gone, so he doesn’t get a say. Tell me the truth. You owe me that much. Dad was murdered, wasn’t he?”
Cyriaque’s pause spoke volumes. Finally, he looked up, meeting my gaze. “Yes, we think so.”
The heat of vindication flooded through me. I knew it. I knew it. Everyone had told me to move on, that I’d been imagining things. But I knew that Dad hadn’t died in some freak accident. “Do you know who did it?”
