In the Werewolf's Den (22 page)

She sat and waited.

He said nothing for several minutes as he paged through a computer screen. Finally he slammed his fist into the linoleum surface of the desk.

"Do you have anything to say for yourself, Warder? I thought my orders were crystal clear."

"Sorry, sir."

"Didn't I tell you to beat the
Were
?"

"Yes, sir."

"So?"

"He was better than me, sir.” Even given the circumstances, it hurt her to admit that. But it was true. Carl had beat her fair and square. Once. Sure she could have handled him if she hadn't been exhausted from the earlier fights. But they'd both fought the same number of matches. Carl had preserved his strength. She'd dissipated her own.

"So freaking what?” Joe's tone made that a real question.

"Sir?"

"So he was better than you? So big deal. What are they teaching in the Warder Academy anyway? Fair play? You could have drugged him. You could have fouled him. You could have called for emergency assistance. I had sharpshooters in the crowd. They would have timed it so it looked like one of your blows landed. Warders are team players. And you didn't give your teammates a chance to help."

"Nobody told me that, sir.” She shouldn't be surprised that Joe was willing to cheat. Warders were more interested in getting the job done than in protecting legalistic niceties.

"Nobody told me,” he mocked. He leaned toward her and lowered his voice. “You're a graduate of the Warder Academy, not a dumb grunt. You're supposed to use your imagination, your brain. My God, Danielle, think what they did to your mother."

"Yes, sir.” She was getting a royal balling out, but he hadn't accused her of treachery. Which might mean that she was safe. For now.

"What happened after the fight?” he demanded.

"I don't know, sir."

Joe slammed his fist into the computer monitor built into the desktop. Blue sparks flew across the room and a strong sizzle spoke of an electrical current meeting human flesh.

"What the hell? Put it out.” Flames crawled up the arm of Joe's uniform.

The loud siren of an alarm went off. Sensitive smoke detectors were working.

Danielle yanked a fire extinguisher off the wall and blasted away at her inflamed boss. Tempting though it was, letting him burn wouldn't help anything and it would get her arrested.

Joe sputtered under the onslaught of freezing C02, caught his breath, then ordered her to stop.

"Sorry, sir."

"Yeah. Sure."

A troop of guards pounded down the hall and threw open the door to his office, assault rifles ready, chemical protection suits fully equipped.

Joe's district didn't mess around, Danielle realized.

"My computer shorted out,” Joe barked. “Get out of here."

He rang for his admin, brusquely ordered a new uniform, then turned back to Danielle.

Enough of his uniform had burned to expose a hard muscular frame scarred by multiple deep wounds, some white with age and others still red with healing.

Joe had kept in shape. He was the type of active leader that Danielle had always respected. Like Carl, she realized. Except Joe was the enemy of her friends. Which made him her enemy as well. Where had Joe been the previous night? The circles under his eyes hinted that he hadn't been safely in bed.

"Can you explain what you mean?” he demanded. His voice was smooth and soft now, as if he was patiently talking to a young child.

Danielle struggled to recall where the conversation had been before he'd set himself on fire. Oh, yes. After the fight.

"I don't know what happened after the fight because I was knocked unconscious,” she explained. “Someone must have moved me from the arena because when I regained consciousness, I was alone with the troll I'd fought in the match before Dr. Harriman defeated me."

"
Were
Harriman carried you out."

"Really? Well, he left me pretty quickly then."

"Go on."

"Anyway, I incapacitated the troll and went looking for Harriman. I found him, in
Were
form, near a wrecked watch tower, dragged him away from any possible witnesses, and terminated him."

"His body hasn't turned up."

Danielle nodded firmly. “It won't. Unless someone decides to dredge the algae vats he's been cultivating."

For the first time since he'd walked into the room, a smile flitted across Joe's face. It vanished so quickly she wondered if she'd seen it or just imagined it.

"You waited too long, warder. He, along with a suicide bomber, had already taken out the tower."

"Yes, sir. I saw the destruction and guessed that he might be responsible.” She paused just a beat. “Did any of the impaired escape?"

Her boss slowly shook his head. “We were able to cover the area with helicopters until a replacement crew arrived."

"Excellent.” Danielle paused for a moment, trying to decide what she would say if she'd really been the loyal warder she was pretending to be. “You said that you'd promote me to vampire hunting once my assignment was terminated,” she reminded him. “I'd like the opportunity to do some real work, sir."

Under normal circumstances, being assigned a month of deskwork would have been a disgrace. As it was, Danielle had barely been able to disguise her satisfaction.

Joe's admin had shown her to a ratty cubicle equipped with an antique pre-return-of-magic computer, a buzzing fluorescent lamp and not much else. Coffee rings and cigarette scars formed the only decoration. The screen saver was a changing set of images of extremely female and completely nude magical creatures, each handcuffed or otherwise restrained.

"Sick,” Danielle muttered as she wiped the images off the hard drive.

The admin agreed with a sniff and brought Danielle a cup of watery coffee as a sort of peace offering. Female bonding proved stronger than the admin's wish to support her boss.

"I'm Danielle Goodman,” Danielle said, hoping to follow up on the implicit offer of friendship. Of all the people in the office, the admin was most likely to notice anything Danielle was doing out of the ordinary.

"Theresa Ortez,” the admin identified herself. “I've been working with Joe for a couple of years now."

"Joe?” From what Danielle knew of the man, he wasn't likely to be on a first name basis with anyone on his staff.

Theresa giggled. “Mr. Smealy, then. I think of him as Joe, though. Isn't he a dreamboat?"

Danielle forced a smile. “Right now, he's mad as hell at me, which makes him a little less attractive in my eyes."

"He's upset. I understand he's never recovered from when his wife turned into an elf and ran away with another impaired,” Theresa confided. “So he's single. But don't you go trolling for him. I've got him on my radar screen."

"You go, girl,” Danielle encouraged. She wondered how many of the warders had stories like Joe's or her own. Personal reasons to fear and to hate the magical.

"You just let me know if there's anything you need. Office supplies or,” Theresa giggled again, “a list of which warders are single and which aren't."

"And which ones put those nasty pictures on the computer,” Danielle concluded.

"Yeah, a list of the ones to avoid would have saved me a lot of bother.” Theresa turned to leave, then stopped at the entry to Danielle's cubicle. “A few of us girls get together for lunch. We'll meet in about an hour in the cafeteria. I know you're a real warder. And we're mostly admins and clericals. So if you don't want to join us, we'd understand. It isn't like we have a lot of stories to tell about killing—"

"I'd love to have lunch with you,” Danielle told her. She didn't believe the cliché that women gossip more than men, but she suspected she could learn more from other women than from a bunch of men trying to get into her pants. Besides, the last thing she wanted now was old war stories.

Theresa giggled again, then vanished into another cubicle letting Danielle turn her attention to the computer.

If Danielle had any doubts about her decision to throw in with Carl and the magical, the next hour would have dispelled it. The task that Joe had assigned her consisted of linking incoming reports of the previous evening's riot to appropriate database entries.

The reports listed the loot collected, estimated number of impaired killed, and the amount of property damage. Intriguingly, part of her job was cross-tabulating the reports by rioters and warder agents against incoming reports from informants. Bonuses were paid only on confirmed finds, not claims. If what she could see was typical of warder offices elsewhere, the entire organization seemed to revolve around exploiting the magical. Any protection to the normals was strictly incidental.

She carefully dug deeper, afraid that the computer system would track her queries and send alarms through the building but intent on finding everything she could. This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to protect her friends in the zone and she didn't intend to blow it.

No heavy hand clamped down on her shoulder, but she didn't find as much useful information as she'd hoped for either.

Within the computer system, code numbers rather than name or magical category identified informants. Danielle committed as much as possible to her memory, but the fact that informant 127z329x had reported the theft of a beer-truck wasn't actionable. Unfortunately, it was typical of what she had access to.

At noon, Theresa stopped by. “We're going down to the cafeteria, Danielle. You ready for a break?"

Danielle rubbed her eyes. She'd been ready for a break before she even sat down.

For a change, Dallas's stifling hot weather had moderated into an early fall. Mild north winds blew the Gulf of Mexico humidity south, leaving the city dry and comfortable. The girls decided to eat outside in a tree-shaded park just a block from the warder office building.

Girls, Danielle quickly decided, was something of a misnomer. For one thing, the seven women ranged in age from Theresa's twenty, up to the seventy-year-old Mary. While Danielle was the only active-duty warder in the group, Mary was a human resources manager and another woman, Karen, managed database development. These, in short, were the people who actually ran the warder office while line-level warders did their cowboy acts. That, at least, seemed to be the consensus around the picnic table.

After listening to fifteen minutes of gossip about who was sleeping with whom, which brown-nosers were moving up in the organization and which had finally gotten slammed, Danielle used a break in the conversation to ask what she really wanted to know.

"What's the story on the riots last night? I understand that the impaired took out a guard tower. Surely we're not going to let them get away with that."

Mary's look let Danielle know that her query might not have been as casual as she'd intended. “You were supposed to terminate that
Were
before he did it."

Danielle shrugged. “Unfortunately, I was unconscious. By the time I woke up, the damage had been done."

"I watched your match on the net,” Theresa gushed, obviously trying to head off any conflict. “You were great. It didn't seem fair that the
Were
beat you. You were way better. Higher kicks, faster moves. You were totally awesome."

Danielle thanked her fan but turned back to Mary. “Yeah, I messed up. That's why I'm assigned to desk duty for the next few weeks even though I have no talent for it. Still, I did complete the assignment. I'm wondering if we'll be doing more, though. I don't want to be stuck on desk duty if there's a major action going down."

At the collective frowning faces, Danielle recognized she'd just slammed the work these women did.

"Not that desk work isn't important,” she backtracked. “I'm just trained for fieldwork. I know I'm getting in your way here."

"I'm sure that SAIC Smealy will notify you when your skills can be better utilized elsewhere,” Mary sniffed, not sounding mollified at all.

It seemed like she wasn't going to get anywhere and Danielle was looking for a way to defuse the tension and turn the conversation back in a harmless direction when Mary continued. “I understand that there will be retaliatory raids. All of our informants have been asked to forward information on who else may have been behind that tower attack."

"I'll have to talk to the SAIC about being included in some of those raids,” Danielle said.

"Don't get your hopes up. We're bringing in reinforcements from other warder districts around the country. You were with the L.A. district, weren't you?” Mary made it more of a statement than a question.

"That's where I did my internship."

"I know. I have access to all the files. L.A. is sending a contingency. Did you ever meet Sergeant Mansfield? She's heading up a tactical squad. They'll get here tomorrow."

Danielle nodded slowly. If they were sending Mansfield, they were expecting to fight. And if there was going to be a fight, Danielle needed to get back into the zone. Which gave her about a day to disrupt the informant network, learn the warder plans, and warn Carl

It sounded doable.

"Don't work too late, Danielle."

Theresa gathered up her handbag and shut off her computer.

"I won't,” Danielle lied. “Just have a few more entries to log."

Theresa stared at Danielle for a good twenty seconds—long enough that Danielle wondered if she'd given herself away. Then the admin rubbed her toe on the ground and stared at the ceiling.

Danielle prepared herself to attack. The woman had befriended her, but Danielle couldn't afford to be betrayed now.

"A couple of girlfriends and I are hitting one of the meat markets in Deep Ellum,” Theresa finally blurted. “The Golden Lying Club. Uh, the name is sort of a joke. If you wanted to join us, we'll be there around ten."

"I'll probably be too tired,” Danielle confessed. “But if I have the energy, I'll try to make it."

"Either way, see you tomorrow,” Theresa told her. She looked like she wished she'd kept her mouth shut.

"Thanks for your help today,” Danielle said. “I swear these computer systems are a completely tangled mess."