Bite Back 05 - Angel Stakes (6 page)

“I have determined that the path least likely to delay the adoption of Emergence as a central concern of the Assembly is to hold a nomicane. My only aim is to neutralize Ibarre. I have considered his possible strategies and briefed someone to assist you in the proceedings today. You remember Elizabetta kin-Sherman?”

Tom Sherman was one of Bian’s security team, and his kin, Elizabetta, was Altau’s Head of Protocol. That was a title that covered everything from laws down to etiquette, so I guessed she was the best person to have with me. I nodded.

“Ibarre is a complex man. You and Elizabetta can expect something directed against you.”

“Against me personally?”

He nodded. “It will be some way of using you or your testimony against me. Whatever it is, I cannot let Ibarre weaken my position in the Assembly, or my security in the country.

“If I believed that sacrificing myself would deliver a successful Emergence, I would do it. If I believed sacrificing the whole of my House would deliver a successful Emergence, I would do it.”

He startled me by stretching out one hand and gently touching my face.

“The death of any single one of us is a tragedy, but the death of millions remains millions of times worse.”

I got it. I’d been in a part of the army that had faced that truth on every operation: that we were expendable. If Ibarre had cooked up something that Skylur couldn’t dismiss somehow, I was a sacrifice that would be made to keep Emergence on course. 

I sat up straight. “I understand,” I said.

“I believe you do.”

At that moment, the sun began to lift over the horizon and light filled the small patio. It became like sitting inside a light bulb.

“That was only one matter I needed to talk with you about,” Skylur said, relaxing back into his seat and crossing his legs. “Possibly not the most important, either.”

I managed to not snort, and waited while prickles of apprehension ran down my back.

More important than being sacrificed for the sake of Emergence.

“If you’re well enough, I need you working.”

I cleared my throat to cover for letting my breath out. “I think I’ve recovered.”

“Good. I concur.” He had returned to his usual calm stillness. “You’ve served me as liaison with the Denver pack, and I have in mind something similar. Something official and visible in the Athanate world. You recall the word
syndesmon
?”

“Yeah. That’s one of the first things Naryn asked Yelena—if that was what she was claiming to be. A sort of ambassador.”

“There’s a great difference between ambassador and syndesmon,” he said. “Syndesmon is actually a Carpathian convention, but it has precedent everywhere. Other Athanate have acknowledged and accepted the position of syndesmon.”

The first inkling of where he was going sent a thrill through me.

“A Carpathian syndesmon was intended to be able to represent both sides. To be trusted by both sides.”

“That’s a
huge
responsibility,” I managed to say.

I couldn’t quite believe it. The implication was that, at least in setting policy between Altau and the Were, I’d be telling Skylur what to do.

Maybe
advising
was a more tactful way of putting it.

“I’m glad you see that,” he said.

“You’re proposing I become syndesmon for Were and Altau.”

“For Were and the new Assembly,” he said, and my heart stuttered again. Finally, I would be in a position where advocating the interests of one group would not be seen as betrayal of the other.

“But what if the Were don’t agree?” I asked.

Skylur raised an eyebrow. “Then they are welcome to nominate anyone else who is both Were and Athanate.”

He watched me silently for a while. “Well?”

“Yes,” I blurted. I’d been mentally leaping ahead to what I could do. “Of course.”

“Good. The benefit we will get from this will be far reaching. It’s urgent, especially here in Los Angeles right now. Tarez and I must brief you fully after the hearing today.”

“The benefit
both
sides will get from this,” I said, testing out the job description.

He acknowledged the point with a dip of his head and a faint smile.

“Syndesmon,” I said, getting the feel of the term, relaxing a little after what seemed an eternity of aching tension. “I like the job title.” Thinking of my neglected PI business, which I would now definitely not have time for, I said, half-joking, “Do I get a salary with that?”

“Of course.”

I stared at him stupidly. I hadn’t actually expected him to say yes. “I do?”

Skylur was smiling broadly now—broadly enough that my paranoia kicked in.

What’s the catch?

“How much?”

“You’ll have to ask my business manager.”

Who the hell is that? Tarez? Please, please, not Naryn.

But Skylur didn’t give me time to ask.

“One last, and not unrelated, matter. As you are recovered now, there is no question of appropriating your kin for my purposes without your permission.”

He had to mean what Alex and Jen were doing to help out.

“I’m not sure that Alex will have told you how much his assistance is helping in the search for Basilikos cells hiding in Los Angeles.”

Alex’s Were sense of smell was much better than an Athanate’s. It wasn’t good for pinpointing exactly where the Basilikos were, but he could narrow it down using the scent of their marque. Then the Altau security took over, using their Athanate telergic senses to triangulate on the mental element of the Basilikos marque.

Athanate and Were made a
good
team, given the chance. Exactly what my new role was supposed to ensure.

My brain was suddenly playing catch-up.

Good teamwork was why Skylur was saying the role of syndesmon was so important in Los Angeles—he wanted the local werewolf pack to work with us.

“Alex is doing it because it’s the right thing to do,” I said.

“Nevertheless, he is your kin. As is Jen, and her assistance in running the business side of Altau has been exceptional. I have been able to concentrate almost entirely on the politics of the new Assembly. This has been an immense contribution and something of a revelation to me.”

I knew Jen had been helping, but Skylur wasn’t one to exaggerate. I realized why he’d found it amusing when I was so obviously wondering who his business manager was.

“In fact, I will be asking her to formalize this in a permanent commercial relationship,” he said.

“Kingslund Group and Altau Holdings?”

“Yes. With your permission, I will ask her today.”

Skylur was being nice. My oath to him allowed Altau to use all House Farrell, including my kin, for pretty much anything, whether or not I gave my permission.

Jen would never forgive me if I said no. Kingslund Group was big, but it was a minnow compared to Altau Holdings.

“Granted, of course,” I said. “For both of them, though their say is final.”

Jen certainly wouldn’t turn down the challenge, and as I’d said, Alex was doing it because it was the right thing to do.

“Thank you, Amber,” Skylur said formally. “We’ll use recesses in the nomicane to discuss other issues today about your House.”

Right on cue, his security team leader knocked on the window and pointed to her watch.

Jen was waiting for us in the living room, flanked by Julie and Keith.

“Of course, Jennifer.” Skylur gestured her to accompany him. “My driver will return you here afterwards and the journey should give us enough time for the top item on my list and a couple from yours.”

I saw them to the door, and returned to a strange quiet that had settled over the house, contrasting with the whirl of thoughts in my head.

“There’s breakfast in the kitchen,” Yelena said. “Alex had to go out on patrol. We’re still early for the hearing, so I’m going to work out for half an hour.”

It was an invitation, but I shook my head. Too much going on that I needed to think about. It felt as if I’d been sleepwalking and Skylur’s visit had startled me into full consciousness.

Syndesmon.
An actual title and a job description
. Status. Responsibility.

And an end to my therapy.

How ready am I for that?

Yelena left. I sat on the sofa and looked at my laptop on the coffee table in front of me. Its silver casing seemed to pull at my eyes.

How ready am I?

I knew I was supposed to progress one step at a time. The new job and the proceedings with Ibarre would be more than enough to deal with today.

I should have breakfast. Shower. Get dressed.

The hell with that!

I flipped the laptop screen and woke it up. Opened the browser.

My heart rate edged up. I wiped my hands on my jeans.

How ready am I?

Fingers feeling clumsy, I typed
tanner forsythe
into the search box.

The screen filled. Dozens of links. Hundreds.

A row of images at the top. Seeing his face was like being kicked in the belly. He hadn’t changed much—the blue eyes, the light brown hair, the tan set off by the pale shirts. Did his face look harder, or was that my imagination?

My lungs were heaving and my heart started racing.

Lights. Shouting.

Fuck, yeah!

Grunting, sweaty…

Without really meaning to I clicked on the link to the images.

Stupid! Stupid! I need information.

A screen full of more images. And it gradually sank in that lots of them were the same type of settings. This
was
the information I’d been looking for. In the images.

Publicity shots. Studios. Red carpets. Talk shows. Someone holding a door open as he walked in, sunglasses covering his eyes, smirking.

And girls. Models and starlets, hanging on his arms, dancing with him in clubs.

Click on one. Down to the page it came from
.

‘LA producer Tanner Forsythe creates another hit reality show…’

I blinked as the implications sank in.

Enough.

I closed the browser and concentrated on calming myself down.

Forsythe was living and working in Los Angeles.

Yes, I’d been sleepwalking. Tanner had been
someone
I knew I had to do
something
about
sometime.
He’d be in Washington or New York or Miami. I’d be busy. I’d need to think about what I wanted to do.

No.
He was right here. He might be no more than a couple of miles away from where I was. Right now.

The doors sighed shut and the sense of anticipation, already high, notched up another level.

“We are now in session,” a suit at the front said to the crowded room. A room crammed with Athanate, so full they were standing in the back.

Those that could, took their seats.

I was sitting front and center, going over everything Skylur and I had talked about, worrying about what Ibarre might have up his sleeve, and trying to calm the butterflies in my stomach.

On my left, Yelena was there, as support.

On my right was Elizabetta, as Skylur had promised.

She was trying to distract me with the pretense of feeding me information about the proceedings and getting me up to date on the negotiations for the new Assembly.

I appreciated it, but it wasn’t working.

The problem wasn’t Forsythe. I’d managed to pack that away again—for now.

It wasn’t Correia either, who was sitting in the back with a group of her advisers and a wall of security. I’d expected the antagonism I felt from her and Basilikos.

Except I wasn’t allowed to call them Basilikos anymore. Correia had changed the name of her party to distance herself from the Matlal faction who’d attempted to attack the Assembly, declared war on Panethus and claimed Los Angeles belonged to them. That faction was still called Basilikos, but Correia had adopted the name of the Hidden Path for her party.

It was an inspired choice. It appealed to traditionalists, and even progressive Houses felt uncomfortable thinking they stood against the Hidden Path.

But it wasn’t Forsythe or Correia that were making me jumpy now. It was the almost physical pressure of everyone’s eyes on me.

It had always been too much to expect that my first appearance after the Carson Park battle in New Mexico would be easy. Rumors of the ritual had gotten out. The Were would obviously focus on that, and I guessed so would the Adepts. I had all that discussion and speculation to look forward to when I was back in full circulation.

Meanwhile, I was in front of the Athanate and many of them were speculating about the length of time I’d been out of sight since the battle, and the amount of time Diana had been spending with me instead of here. Diana was one of the oldest, most respected Athanate in the world. She was needed here.

I still had a very basic grasp of the Athanate language, but I could make out that a group of Panethus to my left were discussing Basilikos. Correia’s claims that the Hidden Path party were trying to get the Basilikos renegades to abandon violence and return to the discussion table were dismissed. Most Panethus suspected the Hidden Path party and Basilikos were two heads of the same body, and Correia was simply their representation in the new Assembly.

They also thought the longer the conference went on, the more likely a Basilikos cell would get through and kill someone. They weren’t happy that the conference was being delayed by this hearing. They weren’t happy Diana wasn’t here.

And somehow all that was my fault.

Screw them. Diana was only in LA at all—and free to help either me or the new Assembly—because I’d refused to stay away from New Mexico, or to assume like everyone else that no Athanate would dare to harm her. Amaral had dared. And Diana’s absence had as much to do with her recovery from the harm done to her as it did with my therapy.
Not
my fault.

I shook it off and tried to concentrate on the surroundings and Elizabetta’s briefing.

To house the meetings, Skylur had bought one of the older convention centers in Los Angeles. It had been too close to the massive Los Angeles Convention Center in Downtown to prosper, and I heard from Jen that he’d gotten it for a good price. The remains of the last paying event that took place were all over—huge posters and empty skeleton stands for an RV exhibition. Skylur had them left up as a disguise. They gave the place an eerie feel.

Elizabetta’s summary of progress toward the new Assembly was succinct and useful.

After all the struggle since the breakup of the last Assembly, Panethus and the Hidden Path were still closely balanced. In addition to waverers on their own sides, both Skylur and Correia were courting the Houses of the Midnight Empire, the shrinking Athanate group that had originally comprised most of the territories of the old British Empire.

Panethus was better placed at the moment, but unless the Midnight Empire declared one way or the other,
and
brought all their Houses with them, neither Panethus nor the Hidden Path could be sure of an outright majority in the new Assembly.

As for those Athanate groups missing: the Empire of Heaven, the huge association comprising China and most of the Far East, and the Carpathians, the oldest of all the groups—neither had indicated they would attend. Or honor the laws of the new Assembly. How would they react to a decision on Emergence?

From another Athanate conversation behind us, I could hear murmurs that maybe Diana would have been able to get the missing groups to attend.

I snorted quietly to myself; for once I knew things they didn’t. The Empire of Heaven might be closer than they suspected, and the Carpathians
were
here, in the sense that both Yelena and I qualified by Blood. Of course, that didn’t matter as far as getting the Domain of Carpathia to cooperate with the rest of the world on Emergence.

And what does that Carpathian Blood truly mean for me?

More for me to explore when the current crisis was over.

Bian came in late and made a welcome interruption.

She insisted on a formal greeting, neck kisses and hugs for the three of us that everyone could see. And for me, I got her teeth playfully nipping at my earlobe.

“Stick it to ’em, Round-eye,” she murmured before slinking off to find the seat that the main Altau group had kept for her. She snarled at every Hidden Path member sitting nearby, and one or two unconsciously shrank back.

I’d despaired of Bian ever actually telling me her age, but working on clues from Pia, Yelena and I guessed it was more than a century but less than one-fifty. Most of the Masters or Mistresses of the Hidden Path Houses were far older that. All of which made them theoretically stronger than Bian, but her reputation was chilling, even in a conference covered by Altau’s oath of peace.

She found her seat and the idle chatter ceased as Skylur entered.

Attention gathered and focused. Despite all the comments about delaying the business of the conference, there was an almost subconscious pull and excitement about this nomicane.

The full conference was about formulas for representation, numbers, procedures and a slew of similarly worthy topics.

But today…for the Athanate here, today’s business was about oaths. And Blood. And betrayal. About new laws, that had only ever been drafted on computer, and old laws, so old they’d first been carved on stone.

The heart of the Athanate community was beating in this room.

I shivered.