CHAPTER FOUR
THE WILD BUNCH
One by one the hunters began to notice little changes. The day-to-day change was so minute and so gradual that they didn’t notice until the effect was smack-you-in-the-face cumulative.
One day after a hot shower Torn swiped at the fog that had formed on the bathroom mirror. It was steamy enough in the room that it formed again almost as fast as he wiped it away. But something out of place caught his eye. He leaned in closer, turned the towel to find a drier spot, swiped again, and… there it was.
He stepped back like he’d been stung. Then looked around reflexively even though he knew he was alone.
There was no question about it. He was still himself, just more. In the best way possible.
His hair had always been on the darker side of ginger with overtones of light brown, but what he was seeing in the mirror was the deep crimson color of red maple leaves in autumn. He toyed with the idea that he might be playing mind games with himself, but no. His eyes were unmistakably a new value of blue. The color wasn’t darker. Just more intense.
His skin looked luminous, also flawless. He checked the inside of his forearm where he’d been slashed deep with a broken bottle in a bar fight. No scar.
Likewise he ran a hand over the slightly raised scar that had run crisscross across his abs for the past seven years, thanks to a vamp with too-long nails. Raif’s wife, before she was his wife, had suggested scar-reduction cream, but he’d never really seen the point of trying to disguise the physical events that punctuated his experience. He ran his hand over his torso again.
Moot point.
The skin was smooth and perfect as a newborn baby. Not a freckle or pore or blemish to be found. Anywhere. Much less scarring.
He dressed quickly and headed downstairs.
Shy and Deck were in the breakfast room. Not eating breakfast.
“How long has it been since you’ve eaten?” he asked.
“What?” Shivaun said, looking over at Declan. “Why are you asking?”
“Just answer,” Torn insisted. “Did you have breakfast?”
“No, I…” said Shy.
“Supper last night?”
“No,” she answered.
“Lunch yesterday?”
“What are you getting at, Torn?” Declan interjected, beginning to look uncomfortable with the direction of the questioning.
Torn turned his attention to Deck. Declan had the dark hair and blue eyes of his ancestors, the Fingal. He didn’t get much of a tan herding reindeer. And he certainly didn’t spend time in the sun in Ireland. Yet there he sat with smooth and perfect skin bearing the warm glow of tan that Torn knew was the stuff of sexual magnetism.
“Been sunbathing, Deck?”
“You sleepwalking, Finngarick? Your questions are…”
“Disturbing?” Torn said.
“I was going to say haywire,” Deck finished.
“Call it what you want. Fact remains we’re changed. Look at your partner. Her hair has turned red in a way that does no’ happen in nature. And her eyes. She did no’ used to have those gold flecks in her eyes.”
Torn felt a twinge in his heart wondering if Sheridan was changing as well. Would she look different when she was returned?
Shivaun picked up a lock of hair that had fallen forward over her breast and raised it to eye level. After examining it, she turned to study Deck. “You do look more…”
“Yeah?”
She shook her head and made a helpless gesture with her hands. “More.”
“I look more more?” Deck asked. “Well, now that that’s cleared up. Let’s go to work.” Deck stood up.
“No’ so fast,” Torn said. “I’m no’ done.”
“I say you are.”
Declan seemed ready to change the subject. But Finngarick was determined to finish what he’d begun and let it be known, partly by the steady gaze he leveled at Deck and partly by the fact that his tone of voice said he’d made up his mind.
“No. I’m no’.”
“Wait,” Shy said. “Let’s have a listen. I want to hear this.”
Deck sat back down and crossed his well-muscled arms over his abs. “I guess you have the floor, brother.”
“You can be in denial if you want, Deck. But somethin’ has happened. We’re changin’. You’re no’ eatin’. When was the last time you slept?”
Deck and Shivaun both stared at Torn like they were afraid of what he was going to say next. When they pulled their gaze away they gave each other a worried glance.
“What are ye sayin’?” Shivaun asked.
“We’re no’ sleepin’, eatin’, drinkin’, and we look different, but that’s no’ all. We’re fast.”
“Well, of course we’re fast. Black Swan doesn’t take on little old ladies to be hunters,” Deck said.
Torn nodded. “You have no’ noticed that we’re movin’ faster in the passes?”
“Practice. That’s all,” Deck said. “We’re gettin’ better.”
“Yeah. We’re gettin’ better because we’re becomin’ somethin’ else. Or maybe we already are somethin’ else.”
Deck frowned. “Like what? Just say what’s on your mind.”
Torn shook his head. “Nothin’ doin’. I want you to name it.”
“Name what?”
There was a knock on the door.
“That’s the post fella,” Deck said.
“Okay. Come with me,” Torn said.
Shy and Deck both got up and followed.
Torn answered the door. “Fine mornin’, Doo.”
As Shy and Deck looked on the postman opened his mouth to return Torn’s greeting, but they saw Torn turn and walk back to the kitchen.
“Hey. Where’d he go?”
Shy and Deck looked at the postman. “Torn?”
“Yeah. Who else would I be talkin’ about?”
“Did you no’ see him leave?” Shy asked.
The postman narrowed his eyes. “This some kind of practical joke? The elf was here, then he was no’. Simple as that. Did ye no’ see the same thing?”
“Oh, yeah, we did,” said Deck.
“’Tis a trick of the light,” said Shy. “A new toy Torn’s been playin’ with. Thought he’d have you on.”
“Ah.” Doo smiled faintly. “Well, tell him he got me good.”
Deck took the mail and said, “Thanks. We will.”
When he shut the door, Torn walked into the front room with his hands in his back pockets. “See?”
“See what, Torrent?” Deck asked. “Tell me what we just saw.”
“Did you see me leave the room?” Torn asked the two of them.
“Aye. O’course,” Shy answered.
“’Tis o’course to you. But no’ to him.” Torn jerked his chin toward the door where Doo had been a minute before. “To him it just looked like I vanished.”
He waited.
Finally Deck said, “And?”
“For Paddy’s sake, man. Who else do you know who’s got flawless good looks and can travel so fast he vanishes right before your eyes?”
Shy sucked in a sharp gasp. “Demons,” she whispered.
Torn looked from Deck to her. “That’s right. Demons. That serum did no’ just alter us a little. It altered us a lot. I think we’re demons.”
“That’s ridiculous!” Deck said.
Shivaun looked at her partner. “We’re no’ happy about it either, Declan. But sayin’ ’tis no’ so does no’ change a thing.” She held his gaze then added, “I admit it. You look good, the both of you.”
“What are you plannin’ to do?” Deck said.
Torn sighed, looked down at the floor then slowly began to smile.
“What’s funny?” Shy said.
He looked up. “Let’s go for a test drive.”
“What do you…?” Deck started, but seeing Shivaun’s answering smile he stopped mid-sentence and looked between the other two.
Shy grinned. “Aye. Let’s find out what the new and improved versions can do.”
Before Deck could protest, Torn had left the building with Shivaun right behind.
“Do you see what I see?” Torn asked the two of them. Finngarick discovered that, if he let his eyes drift slightly out of focus, he could see slight changes in his surroundings. Like pockets of fog quickly coming and going. He had the thought that they looked something like mystic geysers.
Shy and Deck stopped and looked around to see if they could pick up on what he meant.
“Are those…?” Shivaun raised a finger to point.
Finngarick grinned. “Guess there’s only one way to find out.”
“Aw. Wait a minute,” Deck said, but before he had a chance to make his protest heard, Torn and Shy had already stepped into one of the foggy-looking shapes and disappeared. If he hesitated, he wouldn’t be able to find them. So he followed just as that shape was fading. A second later and it would be gone.
The two other hunters were waiting in the passes. Torn’s new inexplicable senses informed him that, if he stepped back out exactly where he’d come in, he wouldn’t find himself outside the D.I.T. house in Dublin. The grid that formed the passes was, apparently, always in motion.
He had a momentary worry, wondering how he’d find his way back, but discovered that, as soon as he thought about the house in Dublin, he knew exactly how to get there. He knew he wouldn’t be heard if he tried to talk to the others in the passes because there was a whirring noise, like a desert wind, that would drown out his voice. So he motioned for them to follow.
When the three arrived at their starting point, none the worse for wear, Deck said, “Okay. That was kind of trippy.”
“You mean because it did no’ feel alien?” Shy said.
“Yeah. I guess that is what I mean.” Deck’s eyebrows rose. “Are you creeped out? I’m creeped out.”
“I have a feelin’ that ’tis no longer appropriate to be ‘creeped out’, brother. ’Cause we may just be the creepies now.”
“Not sure I like hearing that,” Deck advised.
“Why’d you bring us back here?” Shy said. “I thought we were goin’ to find out what we can do with these changes.”
Torn nodded. “We are. I want to head over to the portal at St. Patrick’s. Find out what’s the difference between accessin’ the passes this way and that way.”
Shivaun nodded. “Aye. Good idea. Let’s go.”
When they stepped through the portal underneath St. Patrick’s they immediately understood the difference. Whereas the ‘geyser’ they’d entered by the house had given them access to a pass that was like a narrow hallway, the portal at the cathedral opened into a wide passageway that would be more like an avenue than a hallway. It was a hub corridor with dozens of exits, arched openings outlined with borders of light.
Unlike the murky fog of the passes, this avenue looked more like the inside of a vast cavern with indirect lighting. It gave the impression that it was lined with shops and restaurants, but this was a mirage. In fact the openings could lead to anything; shops, restaurants or worlds only dreamt of in the imaginations of fantasy artists.
Whereas the D.I.T. hunters’ forays through the portal had previously been fruitless, they now saw that the avenue was rather busy with all manner of elementals busily coming and going on some errand or another. Most gave the three of them, particularly Shivaun, curious looks as they passed, but they didn’t slow or stop on their way by.
Shivaun looked at Finngarick with wide eyes that clearly said, “What. The. Hel?”
He shook his head and shrugged. For several minutes they remained where they were, more or less fascinated by the spectacle that few, if any, other elves or humans had ever witnessed. At length, when they’d looked their fill, Torn motioned for them to reenter Loti through the portal.
Back on the other side, in the reality that they thought of as ‘home’, Torn said, “Great Paddy. That place is crawlin’ with ooglie booglies.”
Deck smirked. “Like you said, who are we to judge? We’re the ooglie booglies now.” He didn’t look especially happy about that. “You think they’ve been in there all along?”
Torn gave Deck a pointed look. “Do no’ play dumb with us, Deck. You know they were there. We just could no’ see ’em before.”
Deck took in a deep breath.
Shivaun said, “We need to call Rosie.”
Torn’s eyes flicked to Shy. “Got a better idea.”
“Somehow I already know I’m not gonna like it,” Deck said.
“Stop bein’ such an old woman!” Shy told Declan. To Torn, she said, “What’s your idea?”
Finngarick smiled. “We’re goin’ to show her.”
Rosie was in her closet trying to decide what to wear to dinner in New York with her husband. It was date night and just what the doctor ordered. It had been a long week of D.I.T. administration details and being on a different schedule than Glen’s. Looking in the tilt mirror, she thought the crimson silk blouse from Bergdorf might be too low cut to wear to dinner in New York. It hadn’t looked quite so scandalous when she bought it. She didn’t remember it revealing this much skin.
She thought she might have felt the prickle of sense awareness that other demons were nearby, but dismissed it as a sign that she needed a more intense moisturizer.
She put the blouse back on the hanger and stepped into her bedroom wearing just underwear. It took a lot to scare a witch/demon, but when Rosie found three hunters standing in her room, she jumped and squealed. At the same time, the occupants of Jefferson Unit thought they might have felt a minor earthquake, but when the tremor disappeared so fast, they concluded it was their imagination.
Rosie grabbed one of Glen’s tee shirts hanging on the door next to her. As she was pulling it over her head, she said, “WHAT THE MOTHER OF ALL FUCKING FUCKS ARE YOU THREE DOING IN MY BEDROOM?!?”
She did not look pleased.
Torn spoke up. “We’re sorry to surprise you. We just thought it would be easier to show, rather than try to explain, that there’s been a new development.”
Rosie looked between the three of them. Having gotten over the shock of finding people in her bedroom, she was beginning to think more clearly. Sir Torrent Finngarick, Shivaun O’Malley, and Sir Declan Tikkenen were supposed to be in Dublin.
“Wait for me in the living room.” She pointed toward the door.
On the way out, Deck said, “Purple’s my favorite,” referring to her lingerie.
Shivaun slapped him in the ribs. “Sorry,” she told Rosie. “We’re workin’ on socialization.”
In less than two minutes, Rosie was in her living room wearing a tee shirt that read “Everybody could not have been Kung Fu fighting” and khaki capris. The three hunters were standing in the middle of the room.
“Sit down,” she said. “And talk.”
Torn and Shy sat on the sofa. Deck took one of the big upholstered chairs.
“Like I said,” began Torn, “there’s been a development. We do no’ have an explanation. Conjecture that somehow the serum is doin’ a better job than expected? Maybe? In any case, we do no’ need devices to find our way through the, erm, passes. Anymore.”
“And we look good,” Shy said.
Rosie turned her attention to Shivaun. They had all been good-looking by any standard before. But now that it was mentioned, she could see what Shivaun meant. They were no longer beautiful in the way that humans and elves are beautiful. They were beautiful in the way that elementals are beautiful, which meant they were flawless. Like they, themselves, had been airbrushed and color enhanced.
“You do,” Rosie confirmed calmly. “Tell me exactly how you found your way here.”
Torn, Shy, and Deck looked at each other. When no one else spoke, Torn said, “Just thought about you. Ended up here.”
“I see,” Rosie said in a tone as matter-of-fact as if they’d recited the grocery list. “What else have you noticed?”
“We can see these things.” Torn looked at the other two hunters. “They’re kind of like little towers of mist and they’re always comin’ and goin’. We stepped into one and it was a pass. So we went over to St. Patrick’s to see how the portal is different.”
“Great Paddy, Rosie. ’Tis full of busy creatures comin’ and goin’. We could no’ see ’em before.” She looked between Torn and Deck. “Which seems impossible because we’ve been workin’ there for weeks. I guess you have to be one of ’em to see ’em ’cause they’re movin’ so fast.”
Rosie nodded her head absently, trying to sort through what this would mean to the program, but she was also trying to rein in the excitement about how it might serve D.I.T. to have demon hunters who were actually demon hunters because there was a larger issue.
Sounding far more like Monq than she intended, she heard herself asking, “And how do you feel about this?”
“Well,” Shy said. “I’m kind of okay with it. I do no’ see a downside as of yet. I do no’ need to eat, drink, or sleep. And this, um, condition would obviously help me do the job I’m supposed to be doin’.”
“In fact, given what we saw in the portal, there’s a chance that we ne’er would have been able to do the job,” Torn added.
Rosie studied them for a minute. “You seem to be making an adjustment. Faster than I would have expected. But I guess adaptability is one of the qualities we test for when looking for Black Swan candidates. So maybe that’s not so surprising.”
She sighed and drummed her fingers on the arm of her chair. “We don’t know if this effect is temporary or permanent. How do you feel about that?”
Shivaun looked at her partner, who shrugged. “Either way. I guess we’d better keep the necklaces with us just in case it wears off when we’re workin’.”
“True enough,” Torn said. “So. What are we?”
“You’re mimicking the abilities of elementals,” Rosie said. “Since you were given serum with demonic properties, I think we have to assume you’re demons. But again, we don’t know if that’s temporary or not.”
“Hypothetical,” Torn said. “Let’s just say ’tis permanent. What would that mean to us?”
Rosie wiggled her head on her shoulders. “Well, it would mean that you could expect to live a really really long time. You won’t need a salary because you can always find a way to do anything you want, have anything you want. Within reason. The question is, will you still fulfill your commitment to work for D.I.T.?”
“O’ course,” Shivaun said. “What do you take us for?”
“Aye,” said Torn. “I do no’ see spendin’ eternity goin’ through car magazines.”
Rosie looked at Deck. He said, “Yeah. I’m in for keeps.”
“This is going to cause quite a stir in Black Swan.”
Torn nodded. “I expect so. And, if we’re expressin’ these traits, ’tis safe to say the others are as well.”
“Yes.” Rosie nodded. “You’re right. Looks like D.I.T. has just accidentally evolved into something we couldn’t have imagined.”
“What’s next?” Torn asked.
After taking in a deep breath and releasing it, Rosie said, “Guess I’m going to need to gather your brethren at the Abbey for a guess-what-you-might-be-demons-now meeting.” She looked them over. “By the way, Shy is right. You do look good.”
“What about Sher?” Torn said. “If she’s like us, can we no’ just go get her?”
Rosie pursed her lips. “We’re very close to having that done, Torn. Just be patient a little longer. We’ll have her back and avoid an interdimensional inter-species incident.”
Torn’s brows drew together. “Patient. You do no’ know what you’re askin.”
“You’re right. I don’t. It won’t be much longer. If we don’t have her back in two days, I’ll go get her myself.”
“Can I hold you to that, boss?” Torn asked, looking slightly encouraged.
“You can, sir knight.” She softened her voice. “You’re going to get her back.”
Torn looked like he wanted nothing more than to believe her.
“Now you three need to get out of here. I have arrangements to make. Oh. And keep this between us until I get everybody to the Abbey. I want to have everyone gathered so that all questions can be handled at once.” The guests rose to leave. “One more thing. There are some basic guidelines about where and when you show up unannounced. Underwear is one thing, but that’s not the only thing that goes on in that room.” She pointed toward her bedroom.
With a jaunty sort of smirky smile, Torn said, “Understood.” Growing more serious, he said, “Maybe you can teach us how to avoid such things. I just thought about you and there I was.”
“Okay. I’ll make a list of things to cover at the Abbey.”
“About that…” Torn said. Rosie gave him her attention. “I’d like permission to stay behind in Dublin. I mean just in case. What if the, erm, demon brought Sher back? I would no’ want her to come to an empty house.”
“Alright. It’s not like you don’t already know the score. You stay behind. You two,” she looked at Shy and Deck, “need to be there to relate your experiences with the slips and the portal.”
“Slips?” Deck asked.
“Oh. That’s what we call those things that look like, what did you say? Misty towers?”
She pulled her phone from a thigh pocket on her cargo pedal pushers and called Grieve.
“Aye, madam?”
“Grieve, I need everybody gathered at the Abbey. Right away.”
“By everybody, you mean the hunters?”
“That’s right. Have them there for dinner tonight at eight. That is, if the kitchen staff can pull together food in that time frame.”
Since the Abbey was no longer occupied to capacity, there was no need to keep a full complement of food service workers.
“I’m certain they can manage. Will the hunters be spendin’ the night?”
She thought about that for a minute. “As a matter of fact. Tell them to come prepared to spend a couple of nights.”
“Very good, madam.”
“Alright. I’m leaving now. If you have trouble arranging transportation for anybody, let me know.”
“I shall.”
Rosie showed up in Glen’s office unannounced.
“To what do I…?” he began.
“We have a situation.”
“Oh?”
“Oh. Yeah. Listen to this.”
She briefed Glen because, technically, he was Monq’s boss, directly responsible for him. Protocol directed that Glen be informed first.
Rosie knew her husband well enough to know that he was seething by the time he rose from his chair. The fact that he was going to the sublevel labs personally instead of demanding that Monq make an immediate appearance in the office spoke volumes.
As Glen stomped toward the elevator she followed along after like a kid who’s tattled and, perversely, wants to see the consequences about to be rained down on the accused.
He stormed into the lab where Monq was lecturing a couple of assistants about something. Everybody looked up. Rosie hung back, holding the door open.
Glen pointed at Monq and didn’t try to disguise his fury. “Your office. Now.”
Glen’s tone of voice was so low, calm, and steady that, oddly, it was scarier than if he’d been yelling. But the yelling wasn’t far behind.
As soon as the door of Monq’s office closed him in with Glen and Rosie, Glen rounded on Black Swan’s own resident renaissance man. “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE NOW?”
Monq blinked. “Pardon?” He didn’t seem flustered, or even bothered, by the anger directed his way, just curious as to the cause.
“Sit down,” Glen directed. Monq started to move behind his desk. “Not there. Here.”
Glen pointed to an armchair.
Monq sat.
“What’s this about, Sovereign?” Monq asked, flicking a glance at Rosie and noting that, while she wasn’t as mad, she wasn’t wearing her typical cheerful face either. She looked grave.
“Your serum that was supposed to enable Rosie’s hunters to access the passes and increase their speed and reaction time? The Deliverance serum?”
“Yes. What about it?”
“It didn’t enable the hunters to temporarily mimic demon traits. IT TURNED THEM INTO DEMONS!”
Monq looked genuinely shocked, a benchmark of sorts because Monq didn’t surprise easily. “What?!?”
“You heard me. Another Monq-saves-the-world solution gone awry.”
Monq cocked his head as he looked up at Glen standing over him and over at Rosie leaning against the door like she was making sure no one got in or out.
“Well, that’s one way to look at it,” Monq offered.
“One way to look at it,” Glen repeated drily. “You are not about to tell me you think this is a good thing. If you even try that, you’re fired.”
“It is kind of a good thing.”
“You’re fired.”
Monq ignored that. “I understand that it could be seen as questionable, but on the other hand, you could say that The Order now has sixteen demons working for Black Swan. Could be just what the doctor ‘ordered’.” He chuckled, delighted by his own joke.
“You have turned the bend into mad scientist territory, you crazy old bastard.” When Monq responded with a smile, Glen said, “I am not being funny. Did you or did you not know that this could happen?”
Monq was shaking his head. “No. It’s something none of us even considered.” He brightened. “But you have to admit it’s exciting.”
“Not only do I not have to admit anything of the sort, but I’m fairly astonished that you’d have the nerve to use the word ‘exciting’.”
“Why? Think of the possibilities.”
Glen could tell by looking at Monq that his mind was already busy thinking up schemes to make people extra-mortal.
Glen half sat, half leaned on the outer edge of Monq’s enormous desk, with its elaborate carving. A couple of centuries before some German family had spent an entire winter carving that desk. Glen lifted his butt where a dragon brow was digging in and resettled a couple of inches over.
He modulated his tone, thinking he could get through to Monq with reason. “Do you understand that there are now sixteen baby demons who weren’t asked whether or not they wanted to give up their people papers? Has it occurred to you that we don’t know what the side effects might be? It could kill every one of them because their bodies weren’t designed for the stress of demon speed and strength. It could jimmy their brain chemistry and turn them into the sort of psychopaths that even nightmares can’t touch. Try to imagine the havoc that an insane demon could cause.”
Monq didn’t look particularly worried about Glen’s concerns. “Do we know whether it’s temporary or permanent?”
Glen looked at Monq like he was talking to a child. “No,” he said, with exaggerated patience. “We’re hoping that you can establish that.”
“Sure.” Monq nodded. “How?”
“No. ‘How’ is my question. Not yours. You’re the one who made this mess. You’re the one who’s going to clean it up.”
“Clean it up?”
“Yes. Clean. It. Up.”
“What do you mean by that? Exactly.”
“Criminently.” Glen threw up his hands, his shoulders sagged, and he looked away wondering why in the world he’d taken a job that involved supervising a brilliant lunatic.
Rosie took those gestures as a tag team signal and turned the conversation into a trialogue. “So far I’ve talked to three of those affected. It appears they will make an adjustment, although I think they’re still in shock and haven’t considered all the implications. Like, for instance, that they have stopped aging while their families will continue to grow old and die. Like that, unlike elementals who were created naturally, they don’t have an actual place in the scheme of things. A job!”
“They have a job with Black Swan.”
“Making my point. We’re monkeying around with things we shouldn’t be.”
“Oh for gods’ sake, Elora.”
“Elora Rose,” she corrected.
“Yes. Yes. Elora Rose. The whole don’t-mess-with-nature argument has plagued science, probably since some lazy fella thought up the wheel. Progress requires experimentation. I grant you that sometimes there are unexpected results.”
At that Glen turned and gave Monq a withering look.
Monq was either oblivious or undaunted. “But this isn’t a tragedy. It’s a happy accident! You’re not considering the benefits.”
“Since you’re already fired and are not going to get the opportunity to implement these ‘benefits’ as you see them, go ahead and lay it out for us.”
“Well, for one thing, we could put an end to the vampire virus.”
Glen barked out a laugh. “Yeah? We’ve heard that one before. Right?”
Monq wagged his head back and forth and waved at the air. “Just listen. If all the vampire hunters were injected, they’d be truly immunized. There would never be another fatality. And with the increased speed, and ability to appear out of nowhere, I’m guessing they could rid the world of vampire in…” He stopped and appeared to be calculating internally, “less than two weeks.”
Glen’s gaze flicked to Rosie. Monq was playing the morally ambivalent genie who offered what was most desired in all the world with the catch that it would be acquired by questionable means.
Rosie saw that Glen was thinking that through. Considering the ramifications. It was highly unlikely that someone in his position would ever face a more seductive, tempting dilemma in the guise of a proposal. She knew the moment Glen cleared his head of fantasies about ending the scourge once and for all and returned to the heart of the matter. She recognized the slight straightening of his shoulders, the set of his jaw, and the determined steadiness of his gaze. He’d made up his mind.
“We’re not in the business of genetic engineering, Dr. Monq. We are in the business of taking care of our people. Ethically.” The last word was intended to be heard as punctuation to a philosophy. “Find out whether or not this is permanent.”
Glen left no doubt that the debate was concluded. Rosie looked back once as she followed Glen out the door. Monq raised his eyebrows. What that meant, she couldn’t say.
In the hallway, on the way to the elevator, Rosie said, “You want a glass of wine?”
Glen stopped in his tracks. Normally he would thank her, but say he was in the middle of a work day that would never end if he took a break. On that particular occasion, he surprised her by saying,
“Yeah. Okay.”
Her eyes widened slightly as her lips curled up. She linked arms with him and said, “Hold on tight. I know just the place.”
“Rosie. Wait a…”
He was in the passes before he could finish the sentence. A few minutes later they stood on the terrace of the vintner villa where Glen’s in-laws lived.
“I know this place.” He smiled.
“Oh yeah?” She laughed. “I hear they make a mean glass of wine. And the weather is perfect for sitting on the terrace.”
Glen looked around. “You have the best ideas.”
“And don’t forget it,” she quipped.
A pickup truck pulled up just as Rosie turned to go in the house. Storm got out and slammed the door.
“Daddy!” She never got tired of greeting him like she was still a child. He never got tired of hearing her do it. She gave him a big squeeze. “I didn’t know you’d be here. I brought Glen for a glass of Black Swan on the terrace. He’s having a very bad day.”
“Oh?” Storm looked over at Glen.
“Come join us and we’ll tell all,” Rosie said, although it was more a demand than a request.
“Who could refuse a tell-all offer?” Storm said.
“And you can talk one sovereign to another.”
Storm looked at Glen. “Oh. That kind of a bad day, is it?”
While Rosie was fetching glasses and wine, Storm tossed his hat on the table and sat down. He didn’t need a hat. His demon genes made it impossible for his skin to burn or sustain damage of any kind from weather. Physically he was probably in his late twenties, but the experiences he’d collected showed on his face and his bearing, making him appear somewhat older.
“What’s up?” Storm asked.
“Rosie’s sixteen hunters? Her D.I.T. crew?”
“Yeah?”
“Monq has turned them into demons.”
Whatever administration snafu Storm had been expecting to hear about, that wasn’t it. He sat back in his chair slack jawed, wondering if there was any chance it was a joke.
Like he was mind reading, Glen said, “And no. I’m not kidding.”
“You mean full-fledged, real deal demons? Like Deliverance?”
Glen took in a deep breath and moved his head in a circle. “No testing has been conducted, but according to what Rosie says, yeah. Full-fledged, real deal. Like Deliverance.”
Storm was scrubbing a hand down the front of his face when Rosie arrived.
“I see you’ve already told him,” she said. “How’s he taking it?”
“Don’t know yet,” Glen said as if Storm wasn’t there. “Any minute he’s going to speak.”
“I take it this was an accident.”
Glen gave Rosie a nervous glance. “Honestly, until just now, it hadn’t occurred to me that it might be deliberate. I mean, Monq can be a royal fuck up, as we all know, but he wouldn’t go rogue scientist. Would he?”
Storm looked at Rosie, who shrugged. “I’d like to say it wasn’t intentional, but he seemed so damn pleased about it.”
“You know what they say about a thin line between genius and crap crazy,” Storm proffered. His eyes moved from watching the wine pour to Rosie. “How are they taking it?”
“The hunters?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ve only seen three. I’m meeting with the rest tonight at the Abbey in Scotia. I’m not sure the rest of them know. I think Finngarick kind of figured it out like a puzzle. He may be more observant than most.”
Storm harrumphed. “Who would have guessed that?”
“I take it from your tone that you don’t like him?” Rosie asked. Storm just took a sip of wine and declined to answer. “Why?”
“Why?” He looked at his daughter like she needed to get a clue. “Rosie. The elf is good for nothing. He botched his life. Botched every assignment he was ever given. I’m pretty sure Black Swan would have loved to get a resignation letter.”
Rosie cocked her head. “Maybe he’s changed.”
“Uh-huh.” Storm looked unconvinced.
“Well, he’s not botching D.I.T. Matter of fact, his team seems to look up to him.”
“In what way?”
“Well, when they came to see me, I’d ask a question and they’d look to him to answer.”
“Sound familiar?” Glen asked Storm.
Storm shrugged. “When it really counted, he let Elora and everybody else at Jefferson Unit down.”
“Whoomp! There it is!” Rosie said to Glen as she threw her hands up in the air. “Might have known that if you’ve got a beef with somebody we could trace it back to Elora.”
Storm gaped and then clenched his jaw. “Do you have something to say?”
“I guess not.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I got your memories up to the time I was conceived. Remember? I know you were in love with Elora. And I know Mom was worried you always would be.”
“But you don’t have the memories we’ve made since then, do you?”
“No.”
“Rosie. Your mom and I are solid as it gets. If she thought I was in love with Elora, Elora wouldn’t be her best friend.”
“He has a point,” Glen put in.
Storm looked at Rosie with a newfound curiosity. “Have you been worried about this your whole life?”
“Well, sort of,” she said.
Storm’s face softened. “You should have said something sooner. The way I felt about Elora was a thimble of moisture in the ocean of love I have for your mother. Litha wasn’t a consolation prize. She was a trade up.”
Rosie immediately misted over. “Really?”
Storm held up two fingers in some kind of mock pledge. “Demon’s honor.”
“Oh. Ha. Ha,” she said.
He smiled. “You’ve got more important things to do than worry about your parents’ love lives. If it means so much to you, I’ll keep an open mind about the new improved Finngarick.”
“You should. He’s mated to his partner. And she was abducted in the passes. By a music demon.”
“What in gods’ name is a music demon?”
“That’s what I said,” Glen put in before draining the last of his glass. “You guys are making good wine here. We’ll take a case. Matter of fact, J.U. will take ten cases.”
“You’re late to the party,” Storm said. “We already have a contract with every Black Swan unit in the world.”
“Who authorized that?”
Storm chuckled. “You really want to talk about wine requisitions?”
“No. I really want to talk about what to do about Monq.”
“Yeah. That’s the question.” Storm glanced between Rosie and Glen. “If he did it deliberately, he has to go. And that’s no small thing because the man is a Black Swan institution.”
“When he laid out the possibilities, there was a moment…”
“What are you talking about?”
“He said, you know, that he could give the vampire hunters the same serum. It would make them immune so that not a single knight would ever die at the hands of a vamp again. And it’d also make the hunters so fast that they’d be able to wipe out vampire, all vampire. He said in two weeks.”
Storm looked at Rosie. She nodded confirmation.
Storm’s eyes glazed over as Glen’s had imagining what the world would be like with no vampire. “Hard to walk away from that.”
“I know. I told him we’re not in the genetic engineering business.”
“You did the right thing. So why do you still look worried?”
“I’m wondering if I can take responsibility for this decision or if I need to kick it upstairs.”
“Simon?” Glen nodded. “You’re in charge of Monq.”
“Yes. But it’s kind of a technicality, only because he chooses to live near New York. In fact, he’s The Order’s version of science at large.”
Storm looked at Rosie. “You think he should take this to Simon?” She shook her head. “Why not?”
“Just between us?” Storm and Glen both nodded. “Simon is so close to the D.I.T. project. Because of Sorcha. It’s personal with him. I don’t know that it would cloud his judgment, but it might.”
“And what?” Glen said. “You think he might order Monq to start converting employees to demons so that he can keep aliens out of Loti?”
She took a sip of wine. “Crossed my mind. Yes.”
“There’s your answer,” Storm said. “If this circles round, I’ll back you up on the decision.”
Glen nodded. “Thanks. Appreciated.” He sighed. “Meanwhile, I’ve told Monq to find out if the effect is temporary or permanent.”
“Good. So what’s the problem?”
“I have this awful feeling that he might strike off on his own. You should have seen how animated he looked when he started talking about making more demons.”
“Keep a close eye. If you get any hint that he’s stepping outside the lines, I’ll get involved and go to Simon with you.”
Glen stood and shook Storm’s hand. “Thanks, Dad.”
Storm rolled his eyes. “I will never get used to you calling me that.”
When Rosie dropped Glen off at the office, he kissed her on the top of the head. “Glass of wine, huh?”
“What do you mean?” She batted her eyelashes.
“You knew he was going to be there.”
“Oh.” She twirled a lock of hair. “Somebody might have mentioned it.”
“Manipulative little minx.” He patted her ass.
“I may be manipulative, but it’s just what you needed.”
He smirked. “Good luck tonight.”
“Yep. Later.” And she was gone.