Crimson City Part 19

Fleur stood at her place at the table, along with the others heads, and the rogues honed in on her so fast it seemed obvious she was their focus-obvious not just to Fleur, but to everyone in the room. And as the object of their intentions became clear, the chaos settled and everything went still and silent once more.

One of the rogues slowly circled the room while the other three stayed back. "Go ahead and take your seats," he said, rather like a ringmaster enjoying a private joke, one outstretched arm indicating the a.s.sembly as a whole even as he kept his eyes on Fleur.

To be honest, everyone had their eyes on Fleur. She could feel them staring, and she could tell her cousins were itching to make a move.

But everyone knew the moment was hers. Fleur held her head high, if she couldn't help the flush warming her cheeks. These rogues meant to humiliate her, did they? By reminding her people that she'd broken code and created one of them? It was a mistake that was now coming back to haunt her-to haunt them all. For she'd be willing to bet there wasn't a soul in the room who didn't think Hayden was behind this, including herself.

But this was her opportunity to make peace with the past, and she'd take it by force.

The a.s.sembly had settled back with an obvious wariness, and the rogue sauntered toward Fleur, stopping unpleasantly close in an intentional act violating her personal s.p.a.ce. Fleur laughed dismis-sively. He didn't intimidate her. Not in the least. And when he made a show of looking her over, she did the same.

"I don't know you," she said, pointedly holstering her weapons.

"I guess the one who made me didn't tell," he said, looking around at the a.s.sembly with one eyebrow c.o.c.ked. "Big surprise." n.o.body made a sound.

He turned back to Fleur. "Go ahead and call me Skullestad."

"Skullestad." Fleur put her hands on her hips. "So, why didn't Hayden come himself?"

The rogue gave her a quizzical look, then threaded his way toward the far end of the long center table. Fleur followed in parallel. Without warning, Skullestad stuck his dirty, lug-soled combat boot on the fiery red satin lap of a lady to Paulina's right, ignoring her cry of dismay as he used her to leap up onto the table. As her place setting smashed beneath his feet, every single vampire trained to fight made to get out of their chairs. The Protectors in particular were enraged.

Fleur settled them back with a wave of her hand.

Skullestad looked behind him, as if he could feel the rage emanating from his audience. He laughed, turned back to Fleur and started toward her, walking on the table. Delicately etched goblets, sterling, and china decorated in cla.s.sic crimson-laced chinoiserie smashed beneath his feet like skulls under a tank tread, and ladies and gentlemen of the a.s.sembly alike winced and turned away at the destruction he caused. His footprints soiled the linen, and a cloud of scent misted the air as he crushed the floral centerpieces with his boots.

He stopped in the middle of the long table and almost imperceptibly nodded his head.

Fleur shrugged carelessly. "Was there some kind of a message here?" she asked. "Or is this all? This... posturing?"

The rogue held his silence.

Amped up by the adrenaline pulsing through her veins, Fleur snarled, "What does he want?"

"Who?"

"Hayden," she repeated, folding her arms over her chest.

It was his turn for a careless shrug. "We don't answer to any 'Hayden.'"

Fleur frowned in confusion. "Doesn't he pay you? Don't you work for him?"

"I think you're a little confused about how we rogues operate." Skullestad advanced on her again, and the tension in her body grew once more. But Fleur realized she was feeding off the moment. There were plenty of doubters in the seats before her, and some of them actually thought she wouldn't be able to hold her own. The idea that she could-and would-gave her an uncustomary thrill.

"Well, then, is there anything else you wanted to say?" She swept her hand out, indicating the ruins of the table at his feet. "Or are we ready to throw down?" She knew by virtue of her words they now had to fight. He'd be hard-pressed not to back down unless he'd been ordered to.

Apparently, there'd been no such order. Which was good, because Fleur was ready to prove herself in front of her people.

The rogue knelt down and reached across the table, plucking a handkerchief from a stranger's tuxedo pocket. He held the square up, then released it to float down onto the table. "I throw down, Fleur Dumont."

Blood l.u.s.t shot through her, just as it had with the werewolf in the subway, but this time she knew what to expect; she could marshal her adrenaline to best advantage. She jumped onto the table, facing him. "I throw down, Rogue Skullestad."

And it was on.

Fleur kicked out, jabbing her boot at his forehead. She caught him square, yet Skullestad backflipped along the table, gracefully alighting on the edge. Then he rushed back in for more, slamming out with his fist and catching her on the temple.

Fleur fell backward, hard, into a bed of petals and congealing wax from candles that had been snuffed in the chaos. The a.s.sembly gasped in horror. But though she saw stars for a moment, Fleur recovered in time to roll to the side. The rogue plunged a dagger deep into the table, right where her heart had been.

As she rolled back, several dim gaslights on the walls blew out with a slight hiss like the sound of a whisper. Fleur's chest pounded. She looked up at the rogue's face and had the bizarre sensation of being in the mud pits of yore, with all of her people watching and judging. It was a strange way to win approval, but at the same time she felt she could do it.

She waited for the rogue to plunge down his dagger once more, and the minute he tried, she curled up her legs and jammed her boots into Skullestad's throat. He stumbled back and she leapt to her feet, grabbing her own knife from its sheath.

They fenced across the table, back and forth, the sound of metal sc.r.a.ping and clicking in Fleur's ears, the blurred faces of the a.s.sembly watching on either side. Finally, she gained an advantage, knocking the blade from Skullestad's hand, ignoring the weapon as it cartwheeled away.

She whipped her knife under the rogue's chin. "So... do you hav a message from Hayden or not?"

A muscle buldged in the base of his neck, and his voice was full of venom. "No."

"Then why are you here?"

"Think of it as a test." Skullestad lifted his arms in amus.e.m.e.nt, leaving himself totally unguarded.

Fleur seized the moment and kicked him; knocking him backwards onto the table in a smashup of centerpieces, plates, and candles. "That's great," she said. She tossed her knife aside, leapt on Skullestad, and wrapped her fingers around his neck. She began to squeeze. His hands moved up to hers and closed around her wrists, trying to pull her off. He couldn't.

She gripped him tighter until he began to gasp for air. It was painful, unpleasant, but of course not deadly. "Consider exam week over," she said grimly. "And be sure to post my grade."

He pulled furiously at her hands, but she had him. "Oh, and one more thing," she added. "If Hayden didn't send you, however you rogues are organized; please find him and tell him I want to speak to him. Understood?"

Skullestad glowered at her.

"Understood?" Fleur repeated more forcefully.

"Yes," he rasped.

She let go and watched him crawl backwards, gasping. "Now get out of here. All of you," she commanded.

All four rogues ran, leaped through the windows, and disappeared into the night.

Fleur jumped off the table and wiped a bit of soup from her cheek. She met Paulina's gaze. Her friend sat, saucer-eyed, one hand pressed to her chest, frozen in her seat like the others. Fleur felt an odd combination of pride and sadness for the loss of who she once had been.

"It's a bit difficult to do that in a skirt," she said with a wink, shrugging off her doubts. She was nearly giddy with adrenaline. "Ladies, gentlemen, I'm very sorry about the mess," she called. "I'll see you all at the next a.s.sembly."

She leaped off the table, creating a musical trill behind her as the silver jumped too, gracefully bowed her head, then left. And even though Fleur knew that the night's episode was a very serious matter, she allowed herself one small private smile. No one would think her weak anymore.

Chapter Twenty-four.

Dain considered the possibility of not going back to work for a couple of days. He considered the possibility of not going back to work ever. But lying in bed and staring at the ceiling gave him too much time to think, and thinking was just too d.a.m.n painful. So he got up for work late and made the walk with his weapons in hand. Coffee and donuts weren't even an option.

When he arrived at the office, he felt just about enough control to face his teams. The break room was very different this day-one of those silent, uncomfortable scenes everybody hated but couldn't break down with a well-delivered joke. Some of the guys were still teared up. Some of them looked dazed. A couple of the rookies who hadn't really known Cyd just looked nervous.

The excitement they'd exhibited over going into battle mode a few days earlier had been dampened by the reality of danger. Dain knew they were expecting some sort of rallying speech, some sort of fond remembrance. Well, JB or one of the others would have to give it.

"Dain? They're actually ready to see you now," a secretary came in and said.

They? Dain looked at JB. "You wanna... take care of this for me?" He gestured at the others. JB nodded, so Dain slipped right back out and headed for the interrogation room at the back of the building.

Sitting down in a rickety folding chair and looking around, Dain thought the room seemed blind-ingly white and clean. He waited, rebelliously picking the Styrofoam off the rim of his coffee cup, letting the white shreds fall to the ground as a panel of his superiors watched. He could imagine Kippen-ham, staring with total dissatisfaction at the mess, dying to clean it up, a vein in his neck throbbing from the impulse to maintain order. Of course, Kipp wasn't here. At least, not in the room.

Dain slowly turned his head to the two-way mirror and raised the trashed Styrofoam cup in mock greeting. Kipp was undoubtedly watching from behind the gla.s.s, obviously keeping a distance. He wasn't the only one: Dain imagined himself watching the entire situation play out from a spot on the ceiling. A fang's-eye view, he thought with a dry smile. He also thought that he was going to try to get himself fired, and he wasn't sure how he felt about that. He'd earned a visit to the shrink, for sure.

"Captain Reston," one of his superiors said formally, leafing through a thick file.

Dain gave the man a nod.

"First, let me say on behalf of the entire department, we are sorry for your loss. We all feel Ms. Brighton's absence this morning, but I know from personal experience that it stings much more when it's your partner."

"Yeah, it stings," Dain agreed roughly.

There was a silence. The woman on the end of the table, some random executive from I-Ops, gave him a piercing stare. It was better than sympathy. Dain wasn't sure he wanted to deal with sympathy this morning. He preferred the idea of these b.a.s.t.a.r.ds p.i.s.sing him off, him doing something without thinking, making something happen and doing something about it. Only that would get this anger out of his system.

"Captain Reston, clearly we'll make the department psychologist available to you on an ongoing basis," the first man continued.

Dain just stared at him, suddenly hating the grubby feel of his crumpled clothing. He hadn't changed since last night. Odd, how everyone stopped using first names when somebody got hurt-when somebody died. Everything became so f.u.c.king formal. He let his forehead drop into his hand, his arm resting on his thigh.

"Captain Reston?" The panel looked around at each other. "Obviously, this is a very bad time to take you out of the field. We'd like to know what you'd like to do."

Wait a minute. What I'd like to do? Stop being so d.a.m.n nice. I feel like I could kill somebody right now. "I'd recommend not partnering me up." He looked them square in the eye. "I think the best thing to do is to continue working with Fleur Dumont, and to try to use our collective resources to get to the bottom of this. She's been a good ally to date, and I trust her."

He cleared his throat and added, "As much as I'd trust any vampire."

There was a pause. The panelists looked at each other, and finally the woman nodded. "You'll have to speak to Major Kippenham about that. But we're glad to know that you'd like to get right back to work."

Dain looked over the a.s.sembled faces. He was developing an uneasy feeling. "Yeah, I'm just going to get right back to work. I'd like to keep following some leads... you know, follow up on..." His thoughts wandered. He blinked, trying to bring the too-helpful faces back into focus. "Follow up on some... leads." There. A strong finish. Persuasive. He'd even tacked on the hint of a sad smile. The part where he wanted to strangle every one of them and wipe their angelic, sympathetic faces off the map- well, he kept those feelings to himself.

The suit on the far left, the one with the gla.s.ses, held out a slip of paper. "Why don't you just take it easy for now? We'll have JB continue to run the staff meetings. After you have a chance to share your feelings and learn how to deal with your loss, maybe then you can go back to your normal responsibilities."

"But we're not asking you to turn in your weapons or anything," the woman added quickly.

Dain almost laughed. Someone in psych had already done an a.s.sessment, figured he was the kind of guy who preferred to mend on the job. That he would react negatively to a reduction in workload and responsibility. h.e.l.l, he had to give it to them; they were right.

But... that meant this wasn't really a psych exam or evaluation. This was something else. They were looking for something else in him, and it made him uneasy.

Dain got out of his chair and walked over to the guy in gla.s.ses and took the slip of paper. "Thank you for your understanding," he said woodenly.

"The report comes first, though. Just a summary of events for the file-we've got the details from. JB and the rest of the team."

"Right." Dain held up the slip. "Thanks." He moved to leave; but was stopped by a clipped, "Wait, please," from the panel members. "Major Kippen-ham would like a word with you."

The panel filed out and Dain sat and waited for the boss.

Kippenham's almost immediate entrance confirmed he'd been watching and listening. Dain studied his boss, who entered and pulled a chair around to set it in front of Dain. Kipp always seemed like a decent man, but there was something about his calm, upbeat fraternity boy act that had a disturbing edge under the right circ.u.mstances. These were those circ.u.mstances. Everything was relative.

Kipp didn't pull any punches, just leaned back in his chair and crossed one leg over the other. "So, you want to go back to work."

"Yeah. I mentioned to the panel that I'd hoped it would be business as usual, working with Fleur Du-mont to collect more information about what's going on in this city and ultimately figuring out who sent that mech... and why."

Kippenham watched him very closely. "You won't be working with Fleur Dumont anymore," he said. He looked directly into Dain's eyes. "The plan has changed somewhat. You'll have no direct contact with any member of vampire leaders.h.i.+p, including Fleur Dumont. We'll take it one day at a time. I'm putting you with JB today. He's been keeping up with Cyd's old informants."

Keeping his voice even, Dain said, "Sounds like the plan has changed more than 'somewhat.' Maybe you could fill me in."

Kippenham clasped his hands together on the table and said, "There will be no more information sharing with Fleur Dumont; the Dumonts have been recla.s.sified as enemies."

Dain leaped up, overturning his chair. "What?"

An ugly sneer appeared on his boss's face. "You seem upset. Do you have reservations about Fleur Dumont's cla.s.sification?"

Dain sat back down. "I know a lot more about the vampire world than I used to. A month ago I was under the impression that there was just one group. One leader. One... vision. I a.s.sumed they would just as soon destroy the human race as anything else. That's not true. And I can't even say for sure which group was responsible for Serena's death. They're not all bad."

Kipp winced, his expression growing dark. He'd taken off his ring and was playing with it, wringing it first, turning it over and over as if his self-control were dependent on this one object absorbing all of the anger welling up inside him. "All vampires ultimately come from the same point of view, Dain. It doesn't matter who's 'hanging out' with who. They all kill humans, they all feed on innocent blood, and they all answer to a darker force within them. That darkness is something we can't even begin to fathom." He leaned forward, his voice menacing. "I wanna tell you that you drawing a distinction between different groups of vampires makes me very, very uncomfortable."

Dain chewed on his lower lip. Kipp wasn't the only one uncomfortable about this, because he knew very well that his thinking was disloyal to his training, and if he let any more of it show than Kipp was already seeing, things would get ugly. "Look, all I'm saying-"

"I know what you're saying," Kippenham said coldly. "And if that's code for telling me that your thinking has been compromised, that we can't trust you anymore, then that's a pretty serious piece of information."

Dain tried to defuse the situation with an exaggerated groan. "You're taking my words way out of proportion, boss. I've just been entertaining some theories, that's all." He rolled his eyes and tried to get the conservation back on track. "Am I going to find you've got someone tailing me?" he joked. "That that's part of PDI?"

Kippenham managed a tight smile, but he didn't quite match Dain's levity. "Watch your step, Dain. You've got a little lat.i.tude coming because of Cyd's death, but that's only going to last so long."

Dain felt a bolt of anger. "I'm not interested in using the Cyd pity card for any reason, at any time," he snarled.

The boss gave a curt nod. "Good. I'm glad to hear it. Just so we understand each other. So, I don't need to be concerned about any misplaced loyalty to the vampires, then?"

Dain stilled, trying to think three steps ahead.

"No. I know what side my bread is b.u.t.tered on," he said.

Kippenham's face remained impa.s.sive. "That's an interesting statement. It implies reluctance."

Dain ran his hand over the stubble on his face. It was sharp. "There's no reluctance. I'm just surprised. I advocate a different approach than this path to war."

A tight smile was Kipp's only response, as if to say that a different approach was out of the question.