Ibenus (Valducan series) (7 page)

"Websites about us?"

"No." She shrugged, hiding the lie. "Nothing so organized. But I found some rumors, other weapons, more bad photographs. But that led me to broaden my search. More than once a sighting was followed by an unrelated murder or fire and then no more sightings. So I decided to keep the search up for new sightings, try to figure out which ones might be real and not just some prank or cry for attention, and go check it out."

"You lost your job after the attack?"

"Yes."

"Because you told them about what you saw?"

Victoria chewed her lip, biting back the anger. "A good man died."

"I'm very sorry that happened." He drew a breath, about to say more, but turned as Sam approached.

She pulled the headset from her ear and offered it to him. She mouthed something. Durgen? Turgen?

He quickly accepted it and hooked it onto his own ear. "Yes?" He held up a finger to Victoria, and stepped away, speaking low and his back to her.

There was no need to question who they were discussing.
What
, was a different matter. She turned, looking up at Luc. "I have another question."

He nodded.

"Why the secrecy? You know these things are real. You know they're killing people. Why are you hiding it?"

His jaw tightened, the muscles rippling. He appeared as though he wasn't going to answer, but finally he spoke. "How do you propose we tell people?"

"Well, you start by telling them."

"Oh." The corners of his mouth tightened into that little smile you give a child that excitedly tells you something obvious. The black void of a missing tooth at the corner ruined the line of white. "And they'll believe us? Tell me how. Demons change back to human when they die, leaving no trace. No blood. No DNA. Nothing someone can hold up and show as real. Footprints? Photographs?" He shook his head. "Those can be faked."

"But they are real," she said, hearing the weakness in the statement as she said it.

"Prove it. That's what they'll say." He opened his broad hand. "Look at alien conspiracies. You were a police officer. Would you believe those without proof?" He shook his head. "But let's pretend. We'll say that people do believe. What will they do when you tell them that there are monsters living among us? That there's no way to prove who is human and who isn't? What would happen if police said that there was a psychopath living in a community, someone who would
eat
them and their children?"

Victoria turned from his gaze and looked out across the black water, its ripples crested with moonlight. "They'd panic."

"Panic?" He gave a humorless chuckle. "They'd go insane. Begin searching for any telltale signs. Then the accusations. Old hatreds would surface. Now they're not just the wrong race or religion or just different, but not even human. No guilt to be had by getting rid of them. Don't think that won't happen. Hatred thrives on justification.

"Now let's tell them that the only way to kill these monsters is with a holy weapon. What then?"

She didn't answer. The buzzing mosquito returned.

"Holy weapons would become celebrities," he said. "Everyone would know them and their owners. Reporters would follow them. Do you think we could just show up in a city without anyone knowing? Everyone would know and then the demon would simply jump to a new body and escape.

"But that's just the beginning. If holy weapons are the only true way to rid ourselves of demons, then holy weapons become national security. Nations will fight for them. A new arms race. Everyone will want one, and they'll want to have the most. There are more countries than holy weapons and people will come for them. So now you have Russia, China, the United States all sitting on their stockpiles and other countries will have to beg for their protection. Now the politicians can say, 'No, you didn't sign this trade agreement, or we don't like your policies, so now your people can get eaten and die without help.'" He held her gaze. "Don't tell me it can't happen."

Victoria shook her head. Over Luc's shoulder she saw the Englishman click off the phone. He walked back and slid into his seat as Luc started speaking.

"Good," Luc said. "But why stop there? Now your country has a stockpile and can kill the monsters. Now the monsters can become your weapons. You can
control
them."

She snorted. "No. I don't see that."

"Really?"

"No. Not if they knew that much about them. That's too big of an assumption."

Luc shrugged. "History says otherwise. You ask me why we don't tell the world the truth? The reason is because humanity can't afford it."

"That's right," the curly-haired brunette said from beside her.

"But keeping innocent people ignorant of the threat leaves them victims," Victoria said. "How many lives might be saved if people only knew what was out there?"

"Now there's one less." The Englishman set his hands on the table, one atop the other. "You wanted answers. There they are. That's all we can give you."

"Wait." She straightened. "That's it? That's all you're going to tell me?"

He nodded and checked his watch. "We need to leave."

"But I have more questions."

"I'm sure you do." He licked his lips. "So, you can go back home with the answers you have and do whatever you like with them." He leaned closer, his brown eyes peering into hers. "Or…you can come with us and I'll teach you to be a hunter."

"What?" the curly-haired girl and Victoria blurted in unison.

Luc stared at him, brows creased in some dire, unspoken question.

"You've lost your job. And no police force is willing to hire you. You've dropped off social media. Your bank accounts are nearly depleted. There might be something in private security, but—"

"Stop." Victoria clenched her teeth at the feeling of being violated. They'd gone through her accounts, her life, and the wreck they'd become. "Are you…offering me a job?"

"I am, yeah. You've experienced something terrible and nothing is going to change things back to how they were before. You've seen what's going on so I'm offering you a chance to look further, to do something about it." He shook his head with a little smile. "You tracked us down. There's a lot we can learn from you and there's a lot I can teach you."

Victoria studied his face. He seemed sincere.

"Of course if you don't wish to, that's all right. We can—"

"No," she blurted. "I'm interested."

"Good."

"Just one thing, though. I don't know your name."

He smiled and offered his hand. "Allan Havlock, protector of Ibenus. And I'm happy to accept you as my student."

Chapter Seven

Gerhard watched out the rain-streaked window as the train glided alongside the platform into Brussels-South station. Running a hand along his bristled cheek, he regretted that he hadn't shaved before leaving. In the excitement and rush to pack after speaking with Alex, he'd forgotten about it. Only after boarding did he realize that he'd also forgotten his phone charger. No matter. Both were easy to correct. Though the untidiness irked him, if Alex could forgive a 2 a.m. call, then surely he could forgive a little stubble.

Passengers erupted from their seats as the train stopped, instantly flooding the aisle. Gerhard remained seated, waiting for them to pass as he scanned the platform for Alex or his Russian assistant, or bodyguard, or whatever he was. The five-hour ride from Stuttgart had afforded him ample time to ponder Alex's intentions. What exactly was Gerhard to do for Umatri? What services was he expected to provide over the next few days? Surely the old man required some compensation for such an artifact. Whatever it was, Gerhard would complete his payment and in a week's time return home, the keris his. He'd told his supervisor he had a family emergency, naming an aunt he hadn't spoken with in the three years since his mother's death, and he hadn't been sacked. His job secure, his savings again safe, Gerhard looked forward to when this strange adventure would be but memory. With a hopeful smile, he slid from his seat and made his way to the exit.

The noise of shuffling bodies and a thousand conversations in Belgium-accented French and German accosted him as he stepped off the train. Rain pelted the metal ceiling above. Gerhard looked around, and spotted Taras, dressed in a tight, gray T-shirt tucked into jeans, headed toward him, a paper coffee cup clutched in one hand. Bright tattoos of monsters sleeved one arm down to the forearm. Their snarling faces and bloodstained fangs stirred a shiver, reminding Gerhard of his dreams.

"Good to see you," the Russian said, offering a thick hand.

Gerhard shook it, returning the man's firm grip. "Good morning. Is Alex here?"

Taras motioned his head toward the entrance. "His leg is acting up today. Come on, I'll take you to him."

Gerhard had to hurry to keep pace as they strode through the crowd to where Alex was pushing himself off a bench near the glass doors into the station. Unlike Taras' casual dress, the old man wore a light-colored suit with shiny Italian shoes of chocolate brown.

"Ah, Mister Entz." Alex offered a hand which Gerhard accepted. "So happy you could make it. I trust you had a good trip?"

"Yes. Thank you for having me."

"Have you eaten?"

Gerhard shook his head, his stomach tightening at the reminder.

"We have food at the house, but if you prefer we can stop on the way."

"I can wait." Gerhard hoped no one heard the accompanying growl of his stomach.

The old man smiled. "Excellent. I'm sure you're eager to see Umatri."

They led him through the building and down into a parking garage to a silver Mercedes. Gerhard ran his fingers along the smooth leather seats as Taras drove them up the ramp and out into the streets. A glass skyscraper towered before them, overlooking the entirety of Brussels. Gerhard peered up at the glass-and-steel monolith standing against tarnished pewter sky.

"Have you been to Belgium before?" Alex asked from the front.

"Once. But I was very young."

"Hopefully you'll have a chance to see some of it while you are here."

"What is it I will be doing here?"

"Ah," Alex smiled. "I'm certain that question foremost in your thoughts. I'll explain everything once we're at the manor and you have Umatri."

Manor
? Gerhard again wondered what sort of man this was who gave away valuable antiques and rode in luxurious cars driven by a bodyguard. "What is it you do?"

"That is part of what I wish to discuss," Alex said. "I am on the board for an organization. A very old one. Among my duties, I locate lost relics and find homes for them."

"What organization?" he asked, thinking of Crelan, BNP Paribas Fortis, or any of the other Belgium banks. He'd told them he was in accounting. Perhaps this was a job offer.

"We are called the Order of Valducan. It's an international group like no other." He raised a hand. "Do not worry, my friend. All will be explained once we arrive."

They rode for another forty-five minutes before turning into a narrow drive. A high wall encircled the property, broken only by solid gate crowned with black iron spikes. It swung open as they neared and they continued on.

Through the trees, across the plain, manicured lawn, stood a giant building of red brick. The drive turned, emerging from the trees and Gerhard's eyes widened. The mansion rose three floors with a high slate roof. Wrought iron cages of decoratively curving bars encased each window. "This is your home?"

"It is the Valducans' house," Alex said, "but it is my home, yes."

They parked beneath a wide carport alongside several other vehicles, only one of which was as nice as Alex's sedan. The rest were rather plain cars and vans, though they all had dark-tinted windows.

Taras opened the Mercedes' trunk and offered Gerhard his suitcase. He then opened a nylon bag and removed a large kukri knife with a black-and-gold handle adorned with tiny jewels. Gerhard paused as the man unfastened his belt and looped it through the leather scabbard.

"That is Amballwa," Alex said. "Taras is her protector, same as you are with Umatri."

"Protector?" Gerhard asked.

The old man smiled. "Umatri has called to you, Gerhard. He has chosen you and
only
you to protect him. Come. Let us go inside and reunite you two, and then I will explain."

They led him up stone steps to an arched metal door, painted like dark-stained wood and artfully studded in pyramidal points of brass, silver, and bronze. Taras punched a keypad lock and unseen bolts thudded somewhere within. Gerhard noticed the rectangular cameras mounted on the manor's corners, above the door, and along the carport, each painted to match their surroundings. This wasn't a house at all. It was a fortress. Again, the nagging fear that maybe he shouldn't have come tugged at the back of his mind.

Taras pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Hesitating, Gerhard opened his mouth, unsure what to say, but Alex placed a hand on his shoulder and gently led him through.

An enormous floor-to-ceiling mirror greeted him as Gerhard stepped inside. The fragrance of flowers and rosemary from a bulging bouquet atop a foyer table threatened to make his eyes water. A swirling pattern of green and white marble decorated the floor, the design mostly hidden beneath the bright pinks, and blues of a Turkish rug. He followed Alex, passing a suit of armor elaborately etched in strange geometric designs, every centimeter engraved, and then past a large room.

A young woman with curly dark hair sat in a wingback chair, a curved, gold-hilted sword across her lap. She turned her head as they walked by, giving Alex a smile. One of her eyes was nestled within a purple bruise. A brown-haired man with a heart-shaped face sat across from her. A sword handle protruded from his waist. To his left, a blonde with an upturned button nose looked up from a laptop screen and watched the newcomers with open curiosity.

Alex gave but a moment's glance, nodded to the man, and continued on. "The Holy Order of Valducan," he said, his cane tapping on hall's wooden floor, "originated between the first and second Crusades. Consisting of eight knights, each armed with a sacred weapon, they swore an oath to eliminate the greatest threat facing mankind: demons."