Guardian's Joy #3 (23 page)

Faith’s eyes widened as if she was hurt and
offended, but then she spoiled the effect when she laughed. No
sound emerged, but it was a laugh just the same. She held her nose
and waved her hand toward JJ’s bedroom door.

“I know. I know. That’s where I was headed
when I got waylaid in the kitchen. Hey, did you know Grace is
preggers?” JJ laughed and gently pushed past the genuinely
surprised Faith. “Then I guess you don’t know everything, do you.”
she said as she closed the door.

*****

Isaac sat awkwardly folding and unfolding his
napkin as he waited for Marta to bring in dessert. He didn’t want
to hurt Marta’s feelings, but tonight he had no appetite for
sweets, no appetite for anything.

A bachelor and terrible cook, Isaac usually
looked forward to these bi-monthly dinners with his old friends. He
enjoyed their quiet conversations about worldly and Paenitentia
politics, books and music and he regretted his lack of
participation tonight. Normally, these were the mornings where
professional concerns were set aside. Today, however, Isaac’s
trouble over work could not be ignored.

What he’d believed to be an opportunity had
turned ugly and he had no one to blame but himself. He’d heard the
rumors of the man’s temper, but when approached, he’d jumped at the
chance to work with Dr. ad Fenton. The man was a genius in genetics
and his work would someday benefit all Paenitentia. Or at least
that is what Isaac thought when he agreed to set aside his current
project to work with the man. Isaac’s pharmacological expertise was
vital to the project’s success. How could he turn such flattery
down?

He’d sworn an oath to keep the work secret
from those outside the lab. Isaac didn’t take oaths lightly. All
results were hand written and carefully locked away each morning
under the stony gaze of security guards. Computers were not allowed
and when Isaac questioned the antiquated record keeping, he got
what should have been his first hint that something was wrong.

Dr. ad Fenton was obsessed with returning to
the way things used to be. Isaac had lived through the way things
used to be and he was much happier in the modern world. That he and
ad Fenton disagreed should not have been a problem. After all, lots
of people longed for the good old days. It had nothing to do with
the work.

But the doctor couldn’t agree to disagree. He
harassed anyone who didn’t share his opinion. He began to lecture
those around him about the superiority of the Race and their Right
of Dominion on earth. That’s how he spoke of it, as if the words
were capitalized as a legitimate philosophy.

And there was more, much more. It worried
Isaac to the point where he could think of little else. His
conscience plagued him until he could no longer participate and his
hesitance had been noticed.

“Isaac? Isaac.”

Isaac blinked. Deter and Marta were both
staring at him with worried eyes. The cake was sliced and served;
the coffee poured. How long had he been lost in his thoughts and
fears?

“Isaac, old friend, what troubles you? Are
you ill?” Deter asked. Isaac wasn’t looking well. He and Marta had
discussed it the last time Isaac came to dine. Today, the man
looked worse.

“It’s my conscience that makes me ill, Deter,
and I have nowhere to turn. I gave my oath.”

“Perhaps you can find a way to tell us what
troubles you without breaking your oath,” Marta suggested.

Isaac thought for a moment. His oath was to
tell no one about the work, not the people he worked with. It was a
fine line, but one he could live with.

“I thought my research would be applied to
some great goal to benefit the Race. Now I’m afraid that goal may
lead to the Race’s eventual destruction.”

“Surely it isn’t as dire as that.” Marta said
kindly. She was a practical woman not overly impressed with a
dramatic turn of phrase. Although, as she thought about it, she’d
never known Isaac to be so inclined.

“I believe it is, Marta. Ad Fenton has become
a fanatic preaching a New World Order and I now believe my research
will be used to further his cause.” Isaac stared at the cheery
yellow tablecloth Marta said she used to chase away the winter
gloom. He wished it was as easy as that. He spoke carefully. “I was
told my research would be applied to small animals that were being
kept at another location for the health and safety of the
Sanctuary.” It was another clue he had ignored.

“The other day I overheard the doctor
discussing tragic outcomes.” He used his fingers to form quotation
marks in the air. “And that was followed by a reference to young
martyrs for the cause. Captain ad Primus then promised him more
believers who would willingly volunteer to sacrifice their lives
for the glory of the Race.”

“The captain is involved?” Marta had answered
the door to the man several times and his only acknowledgement of
her had been a curt ‘I’ll announce myself. You’re dismissed.’

“He must be,” Isaac conceded. “Every time he
shows up, the doctor almost kisses his boots.”

“The Director is afraid of him and the
Director fears no one. He may bow to the Councilors and Advisors
who visit and curry favor with the Governing Board, but he does not
fear them.” Martha pursed her lips and rolled her eyes. “He
believes he is smarter than they are. No doubt he feels the same
about the captain, but he fears him as well. I have seen the fear
in his eyes and I have seen the rage he only dares show after the
captain leaves.”

“What is he a captain of?” Deter asked. “Is
it a courtesy title or a rank?”

“It must be courtesy,” Marta concluded. “He
is the kind of man who would find being a member of the
constabulary beneath him and,” she shrugged and smiled, “We have no
army.”

Neither man smiled back.

Chapter
23

“Careful!” Nardo yelled as his Liege Lord
danced around the stacks of boxes placed to either side of the War
Room door. “Uh, my lord.” He winced when a drizzle of syrup hit a
cardboard carton.

“I brought you some breakfast.” Canaan set
the overflowing plate on the conference table and removed flatware
and napkin from his hip pocket. “Grace was a little disappointed
you weren’t there for the celebration.”

“I heard all the cheering. What’s up?” Nardo
swung his chair from the computer to the table.

“I’m going to be a father.” Canaan tried for
nonchalance and failed miserably. He shook his head at the wonder
of it. “A son. I can’t believe it?”

“Congratulations, sir.” Nardo dug into the
French toast. “You know the sex already? I mean. Couldn’t it be a
girl?”

Canaan waved the thought away with his hands.
“Hell no. Not going there. Only boys.”

Nardo laughed. “Aw, come on. Can’t you
picture a cute little girl looking up at her daddy with those big
adoring eyes?” He demonstrated with his own long lashes.

“Yeah, sure. I thought my sister was cute,
too, until she started dating. Not going there. No way.”

“But this would be your daughter.” Nardo was
enjoying the teasing though the pleasure appeared to be one
sided.

“Which would be ten times worse.” Nardo
started to say something else, but Canaan raised his finger in
warning. “It’s a boy until it isn’t and then I’ll deal.” He turned
away and closed the door to give them some privacy. “Now, why
didn’t you tell me about your girlfriend’s memory loss?”

“I just found out, sir,” he said. He thought
about correcting his boss on the girlfriend comment, but then
decided that was her issue, not his. Sooner or later she’d come… Oh
yeah, she would. She’d come and come and….

“Tune in here, son, unless those moo-cow eyes
are for me.” When Canaan was sure he had the younger Guardian’s
attention, he told him about what happened in the kitchen, skipping
the compromising details.

“Holy shit.” Nardo sat back in his chair,
breakfast forgotten. “You think she might be…”

“Yeah, I do.”

Nardo winced. “There’s more. I’ve been
sitting here mulling it over. I was afraid you’d think I was just
trying to keep her off the street because, well, you know.”

Canaan nodded. “Yeah, I know. Suppose you
tell me and let me make the decision.”

Nardo told him about the panic attacks. He
felt like he was betraying her, but the Liege Lord had a right to
know.

When he finished, Canaan pointed to the
computer behind Nardo. “If you haven’t already, you need to find
out everything you can about her. We need to know. Grace needs to
know.”

Nardo was relieved to no longer feel like a
stalker. “I’ll get on it as soon as I finish this. I was going to
bring it to the meeting later, but since you’re here, you may as
well see it now. I’m not sure what it means, but I know it isn’t
good.”

“Fuck. What is it now?”

Nardo spun back to the computer. “I sent an
email out to every address I have in the area telling them of a
possible vamp. I asked them to report back on anyone missing. They
don’t know I’m a Guardian, so I told them I was in contact with you
and would pass along the pertinent info.” He shrugged off his
omission. “Independents don’t always like us any more than the
Council does. Anyway, I got a ton of responses, most just checking
in or asking for gory details. I started thinking this was a waste
of time, but then I came across one reporting a missing friend and
then another and another. So far, I’ve got nine missing; all young,
all male, all fairly isolated from family.” He blew out his breath
in a frustrated sigh. “And I’m only halfway through. I haven’t even
started on the chat rooms.”

Canaan tapped the screen. “This takes
priority. I’ll leave it to you how best to go about it.” He paused
when he reached the door. “Which means your personal shit goes on
hold. You hear me?”

By the time Nardo finished with the emails,
he found a total of fourteen male Paenitentia who were unaccounted
for. He sent replies to those reporting the missing men asking for
more details; full names, addresses, last seen and any other
contacts known. The printer was buzzing out a hard copy of
everything he had so far, when the door crashed open and JJ strode
in. She was furious.

“How could you?” she shouted. “You said I
could trust you. You said I could believe in you. You opened the
door, damn you. You opened the fucking door.” A small box had
fallen from the larger pile when the door slammed against it and
she kicked it across the room. Nardo’s cringe made her feel better.
“Canaan won’t let me patrol.” She’d wanted to stay, here in this
House, and now there was no way she could. She spun to face the
door.

Nardo reached around her to the door, tapped
it shut, locked it and said to her back, “Can we talk about this?
Will you let me explain?”

She whirled on him. “No!” She shoved one of
the larger boxes with her foot. Its slide unbalanced the boxes on
top and they toppled to the floor. There was a satisfying crunch
from one of them.

“Stop it!” Nardo gripped her shoulders and
held her still. “That’s expensive equipment.”

“I don’t give a flying fuck.” She drew back
her fist and snarled when Nardo caught her wrist and held it.
“Going to break it again?” she hissed.

That one hurt, but he didn’t let it show on
his face and he didn’t let go of her wrist. Anger he could handle.
This was a tantrum and Nardo didn’t do tantrums. “You obviously
don’t give a flying fuck about the Guardians, either.” His voice
was harsh. “What happens when you come face to face with a vampire
and you freeze? What happens when a demon comes over the wall while
you’re having a panic attack?”

“It’s not a…”

“It is! Your heart’s pounding in your chest,
you can’t breathe and you can’t think of anything but getting away.
And it’s happening more often isn’t it? Not the big ones, the
little ones. How many times a day do you sweat, do you blank? How
many times do the headaches come? What happens when you get hit
with one out there? How are you going to feel when your partner
dies because he’s looking out for you?”

Her face lost all color and her eyes turned
glassy. The knuckle she jammed into her mouth couldn’t stifle her
wail of pain. Her body buckled at the waist and her knees gave way.
It was only his hands that held her up. By the Nephilim, he’d gone
too far.

“Oh baby, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

That’s what she’d said, too, the night John
died. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Over and over and over again.

“I didn’t know,” she whispered. “I’d seen
them before. I knew they were out there. I thought they were part
of the other craziness in my life.”

The tortured look on her face was killing
him. This wasn’t about the Guardians. This was something else. He
collapsed with her to the floor and gathered her into his lap.

“I’ve got you, baby. I’ve got you. Tell me
what you see. It can’t hurt you now and I won’t let you go.” He
could feel her heart pounding in her chest and she was breathing
heavily, but in a normal rhythm.

JJ closed her eyes and shook her head against
his chest. “It’s not that kind of memory, Nardo. This one’s from a
little over six months ago and I wish I could wipe it away.” She
took a breath, “I don’t want to remember killing John.”

Nardo pulled her closer. He knew it wasn’t
true. “You didn’t kill him, Joy. I looked it up.” He felt her body
jerk, stiffen and relax and when he heard the soft sigh of what he
hoped was tolerant exasperation, he kissed the top of her head.
“You wouldn’t talk to me,” he said by way of explanation.

JJ nodded but didn’t smile as he hoped she
would. “Computers can’t tell you everything. The COD was a fatal
stab wound to the heart. The type of weapon couldn’t be identified.
The best they could come up with was a narrow blade, possibly a
stiletto modified to the perpetrator’s specifications. The weapon
was never found. Neither was the killer. The record also doesn’t
show that there was an eye witness. Me.”