Romani Armada (36 page)

The silence that greeted his words was almost total. It lasted for nearly sixty seconds.

“They sound like the perfect fighting force,” Kieren remarked, his eyes on his instruments and readouts.

“They’re Malsinne,” Ryan said, as if that explained everything.

Cáel turned in his seat so he was facing Ryan directly. “I heard Brenden the first time. They still sound perfect.”

“You don’t understand,” Ryan said flatly. “Even before we knew of the casts, we knew there was a type of vampire we needed to stay clear of. It was only later we connected them up with the Malsinne cast. They’re trouble, Cáel. With a capital ‘T’. Emotional instability, addictions, lack of control and more. It’s not just a possibility we’d have issues with the Malsinne. It’s a guarantee.”

Cáel stared at Ryan steadily. Ryan stared right back.

“You’re one of the last people I would have considered capable of such prejudice,” Cáel said gently. “And these are your own people.”

Ryan’s gaze remained on his face for another few seconds, then he looked away.

The silence fell once more, thick with uneasiness. Cáel faced the front again, troubled. Then a thought struck him. “Wait,” he said. “I thought the Malsinne
couldn’t
time travel. That’s how Ryan explained it the first time I learned about the casts. The Malsinne have no extra talents the way the other casts do. They have an inability to learn new skills.”

“That’s why no agency members are Malsinne,” Ryan agreed.

“Then how did Rhydder learn to jump back in time?” Cáel asked. “And who did he learn it from?”

* * * * *

Liping Village, East Yunnan Province, China, 2054 A.D.:
Justin remained standing at the door until she reached his side. His face was a blank, neutral mask that she had learned meant that he was angry and controlling it.

Deonne stopped by his side, still facing the door. She didn’t want to look out toward the path. In her gut, she knew that Adán still stood there, watching them both.

Thunder rumbled overhead and the first drops of rain began to fall, pattering onto the dry ground between the trees.

“Finished talking to Adán?” Justin asked her. His tone, like his expression, was bereft of any emotion.

“It wasn’t what you think,” Deonne said.

“You have no idea what I’m thinking,” Justin told her.

A great tiredness swept over her. “No, I don’t,” she said. “I
never
know what you’re thinking, because you don’t tell me. I’m so sick of trying to mind read, Justin. A relationship is supposed to be a two-way street but I feel like I’m the one doing all the work and all the compromising.”

“So you figure it will be different with Adán because he dangles some of his pretty stories in front of you?”

“I don’t think about Adán that way at all.”

Justin’s fingers clamped around her elbow. His eyes met hers and now she could see the anger seeping through. “Don’t lie to me,” he said. “I can stand anything but that.”

“Fine. He wanted to kiss me and I thought about letting him. Does that make you feel better?”

His jaw flexed. “What is it you want me to do?” he ground out. “Kill him? Is it that basic?”

“For a kiss that didn’t happen?” She pulled her arm out of his grip and turned to face him properly. The rain was falling steadily now, but they were protected by the projecting eaves of the roof. From the corner of her eye she glimpsed Adán, still standing where she had left him, despite the rain. “Are you jealous that he tried to kiss me,” she asked Justin, “or that it wasn’t you he wanted to kiss?”

His fury blazed in his eyes and his face. “That’s it,” he snapped and strode out into the rain, heading for Adán.

Deonne tried to catch his arm before he was out of reach. “Justin, for heaven’s sake…” But he was moving too fast. He took the direct path across the small patch of clover that the village used as a substitute for lawn, eschewing the path.

Adán stood with his arms by his sides, unmoving, watching Justin’s approach. It was only then Deonne remembered that as a vampire, he had probably been able to hear every word they had said.

“Oh, hell…” she breathed and hurried after Justin. She didn’t know what he intended to do, exactly, but with his temper up, whatever he did wouldn’t be considered or controlled.

The rain immediately soaked her hair and face, and she could feel her shirt sticking to her back. There was no way she was going to emerge from this anything other than totally soaked. She mentally shrugged. Better a dunking in cool rainwater than stand and watch Adán and Justin…do whatever Justin intended to do.

As soon as Justin got close enough he grabbed a handful of Adán’s shirt, the muscles in his forearm bunching with the effort to pull Adán closer.

Then he swung with his other fist, making Deonne suck in a sharp hard breath. He could not possibly have thought it through, she realized. Adán was vampire, here and now, while Justin had only his human strength, considerable though it was, and his reactions were slowed to almost human speed, too.

Who in their right minds would take on Adán Santiago even if he was merely human? Justin might be taller, but Adán had thicker shoulders and the developed chest that said his upper body was strong.

Justin’s fist slapped into Adán’s hand, the sound muffled by the sound of the rain. Adán curled his fingers over Justin’s fist and held it still. Adán shook his head. “There is no need for this.”

Deonne reached them and slapped her hand on top of theirs. “Stop it. Both of you. I’m not some toy you get to squabble over.”

Adán was staring at Justin, not letting his gaze shift. “The lady speaks.”

Justin shook his head. “We’ve been circling around this for five days and now you’ve stepped over the line.”

“Don’t be juvenile, Justin,” Deonne told him. “You’re letting your temper control you.”

He grinned wolfishly. “We could be facing each other over pistols or swords. A fist fight is almost civilized in comparison. My temper is just fine.”

“I would have beaten you, if you had chosen swords,” Adán replied. “I learned from the best in Spain.”

“And I’m a crack shot with a pistol. You would have lost there.”

“Oh, for…” Deonne let go of their hands and reached over them to grab Justin’s sweater, just as he was hauling on Adán’s shirt. Their hands separated as she leaned in to get a firm grip.

Justin’s eye widened in surprise as he glanced down at her knuckles.

Deonne couldn’t take hold of Adán’s shirt because Justin was still holding it. So she grabbed the back of his head and pulled him toward her and his head down to meet hers.

She pressed her lips against his, tasting rainwater and the cool, soft pillows of flesh. His mouth was not at all like Justin’s.

For a moment, Adán froze, his shock keeping him motionless. Then, when she did not let him go straight away, she felt him relax and lean into the kiss. His tongue swept into her mouth, making her breath catch and her body to thrill with the pleasure of it.

She could grow addicted to Adán’s kisses.

Then Deonne felt Justin trying to draw away from her, from the grip she had on his sweater. She tore her mouth away from Adán and shifted so she could look at Justin. “You’re not going anywhere.”

There was a deep furrow between his brows and pain showed in his eyes. “I’m not staying here,” he said, his voice hoarse.

“Yes, you are,” Deonne returned. She pulled on his sweater, trying to drag him closer to her, but he was heavy and uncooperative. “Come here, or lose the sweater, Justin. It’s already tearing,” she warned him.

He shook his head. “I’m not kissing you. Not after him.”

“Fine,” she shot back. “Then kiss
him
.”

Justin abruptly grew still. So did Adán. She could feel their combined tension via her hold on both of them.

“What did you say?” Justin breathed.

Ideas were blossoming, faster than she could encompass them consciously. Images, fragments of thought and feelings. Emotions. They were combining. Shifting. At the base of them all were previously uncoupled facts: Ryan and Justin together. Ryan’s and Adán’s past history. The story she had read in Ryan and Nayara’s biography – their relationship with Salathiel that had lasted for over six centuries. Then there was Rob, Tally and Christian, the Agency’s unofficial ambassadors for family, vampire style. Finally, there was Cáel Stelios’ feelings for both Ryan and Nayara, that were as clear as silvered crystal, for all three of them glowed with the power of their love when they let their shields down, which they did when it was just Agency people around them. Stelios was human, too.

Deonne drew in a breath that shuddered, as she looked from Adán to Justin. “I said, kiss Adán if you won’t kiss me.” Her voice shook.

“Deonne,” Adán said, his voice a deep rumble. “You cannot play this game unless you mean it.”

She looked at him. “I do mean it. I should have thought of this two days ago, but I’ve lived among humans for too long. It’s taking me a while to shrug off that early conditioning.” She looked back at Justin. “This is why you’ve been like a bear with a headache. You didn’t want to have to choose.”

Something…a shadow…flickered over his face and was gone. Justin met Adán’s gaze. “The lady speaks,” he said softly. So softly, Deonne barely heard it over the rain hissing around them. His anger had gone.

Adán made a sound…Deonne thought that perhaps he was trying to clear his throat. He bowed his head for a moment, and when he lifted it once more his black eyes were hot with some emotion. He looked at Deonne, then his gaze shifted to Justin. “After all this time, wild one?”

Justin shrugged. “Take it or leave it, big guy.”

Adán’s smile formed slowly. “Oh, I’ll take it.” He gently pulled Justin’s hand away from his shirt and glanced at Deonne. “Do you mind?”

Her heart was hurting as it drove itself into her chest, beat after beat. She shook her head, unable to form a coherent, decent answer. The only answer that she could form in her mind was to cry ‘hurry up!’

Adán hooked his fingers into the V-neck of Justin’s sweater and pulled, slowly and inexorably. Justin let himself be pulled into taking a step forward. Then he held up a hand. “Wait.” He lifted Deonne’s hand away from his sweater, then Adán’s. Then he kissed her, taking his time with it. His mouth was hot on hers and the hand he slid under her hair was warm, too.

His eyes met hers as he let her go. The corner of his mouth lifted. Then he straightened and kissed Adán.

Deonne held her breath, almost dizzy with the intensity of the moment that lingered and throbbed as she watched them. There was nothing timid about their kiss. She watched as Justin’s eyes closed and Adán groaned.

When they separated, they were both breathing hard.

So was Deonne. She lifted her hair off the back of her neck, feeling the heat of an explosive arousal radiating from her. Her hair slapped wetly against her neck and shoulders. “Perhaps we should get out of the rain and get dry,” she suggested.

Adán looked up at the rain, surprised.

Justin nodded, his expression one of a man who was dazed. “I’d forgotten about the rain,” he said distantly.

Deonne tugged him toward the apartment. “I’m going to make you forget your names. Both of you.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Joe’s Bar, Detroit-Rocktown Supercity, 2264 A.D.:
The bar didn’t have an official name that Rhydder knew of. Everyone called it Joe’s and had done so since Rhydder had been visiting the place. That was a few years now. Rhydder had no idea who Joe was – it wasn’t the surly barman who stood behind the bar on most of the occasions Rhydder stopped by.

He climbed down the stairs, barely checking his footing. He had grown used to the bumps, wiggles and uneven-sized steps a long time ago. He didn’t need to look anymore.

Instead, as he descended he checked the occupants of the tables below, looking for familiar faces both welcome and not. The four who had carried him home earlier in the day were not here. Rhydder wasn’t sure if they would try for round two or not. He had researched Stelios on the nets and tried not to be impressed at the man’s credentials. Of the four, he marked Stelios and Deasmhumhain as the two leaders.

Christos had always been a follower.

The fourth one was a mystery to him. Nothing came up on the nets. He hadn’t dug very hard, though, because he rated the chances they would come back as low to negative. The disgust in Christos’ eyes had demonstrated that Rhydder had managed to successfully discourage them from returning.

Work for the Agency? What had Christos been thinking? It had clearly been far too long since they had shared company for an evening. Christos had turned into an establishment flunky.

It happened to the best, especially in this brave new world when vampires were citizens right alongside humans, instead of pretending to be human.

Rhydder saw that one of his three preferred tables was empty and headed toward it, with a nod toward Nolly, the barman, who nodded back and reached for a tall glass on the shelf behind him. They understood each other for this was an old routine. A comfortable one.

He sank onto the chair that placed him with his back to the wall with something like relief. He was tired. His sleep had been cut short. After the Agency mongrels had left, he hadn’t been able to go back to sleep, even though his body throbbed with the need for rest and recovery.

Instead, he’d spent a few mind-expanding hours on the net, researching the four and the Agency in general. It had built a mental map in his mind of what the Agency was currently facing. They were not in a happy place, right now.

It also told him what Brenden had wanted. It wasn’t just him they were after.

Nolly placed the glass of rum in front of Rhydder and wiped his hands on the grubby apron tied around his waist. “You broke up the place pretty good this morning,” he said, sounding peeved.

“You know I’m good for the cost of repairs.” Rhydder picked up his glass. “Fuck, I think I’ve replaced every goddamn table in the joint at least once.”