Phantom Shadows (22 page)

“Take your time. I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

She smiled and stole another kiss. “So will I.”

Chapter 9

“Sir?”

Emrys turned away from greeting his guests, noted the soldier’s grim expression, and clenched his teeth. Holding up a hand to stay the soldier’s words, he faced his guests once more and donned a false smile. “This will only take a moment. If you’ll head into my office, I’ll join you shortly.”

Nodding, they entered his office.

Emrys reached in, grabbed the doorknob, and pulled the door closed. “What is it?” he murmured to the soldier.

“We’ve lost contact with Team Viper.”

“Damn it. I told you to maintain radio silence in the field. The squawk of a radio or the vibration of a cell phone is guaranteed to give away your positions.”

“Yes, sir. We have not attempted to contact any of the groups in the field. But they were ordered to contact
us
at the top of every hour, either with a few clicks over the radio or with a phone call, asking one of a dozen predetermined, totally inane questions that anyone with preternatural hearing would assume came from one of the students on campus. Team Viper has done neither for two hours. They’ve gone silent.”

“All of them?”

“Yes, sir. Should we try to raise them on the radio? Call one of their cell phones?”

“No. Send Black Mambo to UNC. Full stealth mode.” He started to turn away, paused, and reconsidered. “Where’s Team Taipan?”

“NCCU, sir. They just checked in.”

“Have them meet Black Mambo at UNC.”

“Yes, sir.”

Emrys entered his office and closed the door behind him. “Gentlemen, thank you for meeting with me.” He motioned to the chairs facing his desk. “Please, have a seat and make yourselves comfortable.”

“How have you been?” Donald asked, taking the seat on the right as Nelson seated himself on the left. “I haven’t heard from you since . . . the incident.”

Emrys ground his teeth again, but made damn sure he kept his smile as he circled the desk and seated himself behind it.

Donald hadn’t seen him since Emrys had been dishonorably discharged from the military.

“I’ve been good. I’ve been busy.”

Donald nodded. “I was surprised to hear who my competition was.”

Yeah, I bet you were
, Emrys thought. Donald had retired from the military a year after Emrys had been forced out. But Donald had been given a going away party. Donald had been asked to stay. Donald had turned down a promotion.

Then Donald had done the same thing Emrys had: gone into the professional army business. More money. Less risk to himself. And, let’s face it, as Emrys’s son frequently said, mercenaries kicked ass.

Nelson was Donald’s right-hand man. Emrys had never met him before today and didn’t know if Nelson was looking down his nose at Emrys because he had heard about
the incident
or if he was just an arrogant dick because he and Donald had found greater success than Emrys had.

No thanks to the Immortal Guardians. Emrys was convinced now that those were the bastards who had stolen Amiriska, though what they wanted with the alien bitch he couldn’t guess.

While only a handful knew what he had been doing in his central Texas facility, the loss his company had suffered as a result of the immortals’ raid had been a big one. And the lies told to cover up the research he had been hired to conduct had severely damaged his credibility.

All of that, however, was about to change.

“As was I,” Emrys said at last.

“I heard you ran into some trouble two or three years ago. This is a tricky business, is it not?”

Just keep smiling. You need this asshole’s money.
“It certainly is. But things are looking very good for me right now.”

Donald exchanged a skeptical look with Nelson. “Are they?”

“How so?” Nelson asked.

“What we’re about to discuss doesn’t leave this room,” Emrys warned.

“All right,” Donald verbalized as both nodded.

“I’ve recently discovered something that will make me a very wealthy man. I might even go so far as to say one of the wealthiest men in the world. And, if you play your cards right, you can join me in my triumph.”

“What, did you sleep with the lotto girl?” Nelson joked.

Emrys shook his head, his smile genuine now. “Something even better.”

“What are we talking here?” Donald asked. “Weapons? Bioweapons? Drones? Software?”

“I’ve discovered the means of creating what every nation and rebel army on the planet wants: the ultimate supersoldier.”

Donald snorted. “Shit. We already have supersoldiers: men who don’t give a rat’s ass who they kill as long as they get paid to do it. It doesn’t get any better than that.”

“Oh, but it does.” Leaning forward, Emrys planted his elbows on his desk. “I’m not talking about
psychological
supersoldiers. I’m talking about
physical
supersoldiers. An army of men who are faster and stronger than anyone else on the planet. Men who can heal from any wound inflicted upon them in minutes. An army of men who will spark bidding wars throughout the world, because
everyone
is going to want them on their side.”

He had their interest now. Again the two shared a look, this one both dubious and intrigued.

Nelson spoke. “If you’re talking about steroids or—”

“Steroids don’t make you heal spontaneously when shot. They don’t enable you to see in the dark without night vision goggles either.”

“What the hell does?”

“Before I show you, I want to know one thing: If I can deliver what I promise, I want our companies to merge. I have the product. You have the capital and the connections.”

Nelson opened his mouth.

Donald placed a hand on his arm. “If you can deliver what you’ve described . . . we’ll get you the money you need. It will be a joint venture.”

“We have a verbal agreement then?”

“We do.”

Emrys rose. “Then I suggest you come with me.”

Bastien watched Melanie wolf down the pot pie and felt guilty that he hadn’t offered her food earlier. “I’m sorry.” He took another bite of the tasty dish.

Sheldon hadn’t lied. The shit was good. Richart was an excellent cook.

What was it with the Immortal Guardians? Wasn’t there
anything
they didn’t do well?

“For what?” Melanie asked between bites.

They were ensconced in Richart’s cozy dining room. Melanie sat at the head of the table, which was about half the length of David’s, with Bastien on her left.

“I didn’t think to ask if you had dined before you went hunting with Richart and I.”

She waved her fork. “Don’t worry about it. To be honest, I forgot. I do that sometimes.” She sipped her tea. “I get busy, get distracted, go hours without looking at the clock, and just forget to eat.”

“And today was busier and more distracting than most, I would imagine.”

She laughed. “Yes, it was.” She scooped a small brown square onto her fork. “If this pot pie doesn’t contain meat, what do you suppose these little things are?”

He smiled. She must not be a health food nut like the immortals. “Tofu.”

Her face lit with surprise.
“This
is tofu?”

He nodded.

“I thought tofu tasted like feet. This is delicious.”

He laughed. “I imagine anything can taste like feet if it isn’t seasoned properly.” He sipped his own tea, took another bite of pot pie, and watched her do the same.

When was the last time he had shared a meal with a woman?

As best as he could recall, he had not done so since his transformation. Everything after that had been about survival and avenging his sister Cat’s death.

And helping his fellow vampires.

Inwardly he cursed. He’d been with the immortals for almost two years now and still thought of himself as a vampire on most days.

Melanie grinned. “Which is why I’ve never invited you to dinner. I can’t cook worth a crap.”

As Bastien took another drink, he studied her over the rim of his glass. “You considered asking me to dinner?” He lowered the glass to the table. “Before . . . all of this, I mean?”

She nodded and moved the vegetables around with her fork, eyes on her plate. “I liked talking with you when you came to visit Cliff and Joe.”

He had, too. And, though it shamed him to admit it, he had looked forward to seeing Melanie more than his friends. And not just because she was prettier. “I enjoyed it, too.”

She looked up with a smile. “I probably would have gotten up the nerve to ask you out eventually. I assume you guys are allowed to date?”

Were they? “Richart does.”

She nodded. “And tonight he saved me from having to comb the Internet for a recipe I could actually follow that might satisfy you.”

He smiled. “Cheese and crackers would satisfy me as long as you were my dining companion.”

Melanie reached over and rested a hand on his forearm. “That’s so sweet.”

Bastien took her hand in his and stroked her fingers. “If you say that in front of the immortals, they’ll swear you’re delusional.”

She shrugged. “That’s just because they don’t know you like I do.”

If she thought him sweet, then she didn’t know him as well as
they
did. And part of him hoped she never would. He didn’t want her to see that side of him.

“Should we consider this a date then?” he teased.

She smiled. “The first of many, I hope.”

Hope had long since abandoned Bastien. “I can’t resist asking . . . how am I doing?”

She squeezed his hand. “Very well. I freely admit I’m smitten. Isn’t that a word someone from your era would use?”

“It is.” And
he
was beyond smitten.

They tucked into their meal again, hands still clasped.

“I’m curious about something,” he said after awhile, almost afraid to break the silence it was so pleasant.

She raised her brows in question.

“How did you come to work for the network? I’ve never learned how exactly they go about recruiting members.”

“They didn’t so much recruit me as find me,” she said. “My freshman year in college, my roommate was killed in our dorm room.”

Considering how prevalent violence was in society, he didn’t know why that surprised him as much as it did. “I’m sorry. Were you harmed?”

“No. It happened while I was out cramming with my study group. I found her body when I returned to our room.”

“Were you close?”

“Not really. She pretty much annoyed the crap out of me, always blasting music and bringing guys over to screw while I was trying to study my ass off so I could keep my academic scholarship. I was the nerd to her party girl, I guess you could say. She had moments when she wasn’t the worst roommate in the world. Not nearly as many as I would’ve liked, but . . .” She shook her head. “Irritating or not, I would never have wished that on her.”

“Of course not.”

“Usually the cops look first at the boyfriend, but she hadn’t been seeing any one guy exclusively. MPDC ruled me out quickly because everyone in my study group alibied me. Detectives asked me to submit a DNA sample, though, so they could run it against the DNA the crime scene unit collected, exclude me and Dana, and see what they were left with. When I did, all hell broke loose. They said there was something up with my DNA, that they had found something in it that didn’t make sense or didn’t belong.”

Bastien tightened his hold on her hand. “Are you a
gifted one
, Melanie?”

She nodded. “They wanted me to go to the hospital so they could run some tests. I was freaking out, thinking I had some sort of incurable genetic disease or something.”

“I’ll bet.”

“Then two men showed up and introduced themselves as Chris Reordon and Seth. All of the medical personnel got these weird blank looks on their faces, turned, and filed out of the room.”

“Seth erased their memory of you?”

“Yes. And Mr. Reordon took care of the physical evidence, both that collected by the police and any mention of it in their computers. I still don’t know how he did that.”

“He may be an asshole, but I’ve heard he can work wonders.”

“He did. They explained what I was, why I was different and, when I mentioned I was interested in studying medicine, Mr. Reordon asked me if I’d like a job. I said, hell yes. The network took over paying my college tuition and . . . the rest is history.”

Bastien wondered if Chris’s knowing her so long would be a plus or a minus now that she wished to pursue her attraction to him. Would Chris feel betrayed and be all the more pissed? Or would he be less inclined to extend his distrust of Bastien to include her?

“What is your gift?” he asked curiously. He hadn’t noticed anything during the time they had spent together.

She wrinkled her nose. “Precognition that’s really too weak to benefit me. Sometimes I know the phone is going to ring before it rings. Or that a package will be delivered. Or just when and where to swing a bar stool to break up a fight between a hardheaded immortal and his vampire friend.”

He smiled. No wonder she was so good at anticipating vampires’ moves.

“Sometimes I’ll get an . . . uneasy feeling . . . when something bad is about to happen. I felt it the night my parents were killed in an accident. I felt it the day Vincent had his last break. I felt it the night Dana was killed.”

He mulled that over while he finished the last few bites of pot pie. The younger the immortal, the weaker his or her gift. Seth said it was a result of the
gifted ones’
bloodline being diluted many times over with that of ordinary humans. Sarah hadn’t even realized she
had
a gift, which was actually a little bit similar to Melanie’s. Sarah’s dreams were prophetic, just not literally so. According to what he’d heard at David’s, there were always symbols that needed to be deciphered. If, say, she and Roland were about to face a life and death situation, Sarah didn’t see it unfold in her dreams as it would happen in the days that followed. Instead she dreamed about tornadoes or some shit.