Cannot Unite (2 page)

KayNan shoved it open and blinked against
the onslaught of richness and space and light – way too much light.
What was happening? And why him? It didn’t look to be much past
noon. Spring sun bisected the cavernous room where he should be
sleeping with slashes of light. He should’ve ordered the window
shades drawn. But why would he? April wasn’t known for daylight
hours. And North Dakota was known for even less. Less everything.
Light. People. Resources. That’s why he’d picked it. Nobody noticed
the dynamiting that happened over a period of decades. Few noticed
carriages, and then rail cars, and then truckloads of construction
material and luxury goods getting delivered to a place so near the
Canadian border and so far from civilization. Especially since it
took over a century to design, craft, and finish his underground
palace, and he’d used firms that weren’t well-known. Any that
survived the Black Tuesday stock crash got eliminated some other
way. They weren’t missed. Nobody noticed. Few cared.

The tingling sensation moved to his
forearms, as well as climbed upward through his calves. KayNan
worked the areas, appalled and yet amazed to feel his own muscles
stretch and pull. He must have picked up an illness. Some
heretofore unknown disease. Akron had given KayNan immortality and
with it, the basics. Centuries of existence had given him
everything else, and yet nowhere was it listed that an Immortal
could pick up a weird disorder such as this. Maybe the Hunters had
formulated one. He’d need instruction. An antidote. Something.

The mass of glazed Italian tile underfoot
turned into thick carpet that swallowed his toes. And he felt it!
KayNan sped up to a jog before he reached his tech room. Marten was
probably still about, keeping an eye on things. The man must be
nearing his seventies. He hadn’t seen his employer for decades.
KayNan wondered if the old fellow’s heart could handle it.

And then he watched his own hand tremble at
the doorknob.

Nobody was in his tech room. And it was
dark. KayNan padded across the black slate floor and slid into an
ergonomically designed black leather chair that he could actually
feel with the backs of his thighs and against his shoulders. He
couldn’t get the PC activated fast enough. Walls of flat screen
televisions dominated the space, all going live simultaneously to
show the electrical signature of the pipsqueak, Nigel.

KayNan almost groaned.

“Wow. Hey. Look who’s calling…our very own
Barbarian. Holy crap. KayNan, my man. You look worse than when you
took out that Raj-Put Prince. ‘Course I wasn’t around at the time
and only have portraits to go by. And the painters were fairly
flattering of your prowess, but hey. Aren’t those the same
trousers?”

“Where’s the Crusader?”

“On some sort of Second Honeymoon. It was
supposed to last three days. Akron gave him a couple of months
since he played
The Mating Card
.”

“What?”

“You know. He’s mated. We aren’t. We don’t
know how it is—”

“Get me Akron then,” KayNan interrupted
him.

“Already here.”

Akron’s voice boomed through the speakers,
sounding like he was in the same room. Nothing on the screen
changed.

“I was just getting ready to send the call
through, Sir.”

“And I’m Napoleon Bonaparte,” Akron
answered.

The levity was so surprising there was dead
silence for a moment. And then Nigel snorted.

“Right. You want me to disconnect?”

“Depends on KayNan. Well?”

KayNan considered it for a bit. Nigel was
young. Immature. Looked about nineteen. He’d been changed after an
automobile accident that should’ve killed him, and would’ve if
Akron hadn’t stepped in. As the heir to the Hunter organization, it
was totally against type. And completely unappreciated. The Beethan
Clan blamed the Vampire Assassin League for Nigel’s un-death and
subsequent betrayal. Especially at such a young age. Unfortunately,
Nigel hadn’t seemed to have gained any insight or maturity since
then.

Then again…this curse was so new, maybe
Nigel could help.

“He can stay,” KayNan replied.

“Cool,” Nigel replied.

“So…what can we do for you today?” Akron
asked.

“I’ve got trouble.”

“Can I ask something before we get started?”
Nigel asked.

“Sure.”

“Why don’t you use that immense rock shower
of yours up there? I mean, it’s the coolest thing I’ve ever seen,
and you never even turn it on. Or invite me up. What a place for a
party.”

“Nigel—”

“No. Wait.” KayNan stopped Akron. “What’s a
party?”

“You know. A bunch of guys. A lot of women.
Some ripe blood. Some great tunes. Some nakedness. Some water
sports…you know. Like your shower. Or that awesome sunken hot tub.
I think that could hold eight before anyone even gets cold.”

“Cold?”

The weirdness moved into his chest. KayNan
locked his muscles to fight the dim sound of what couldn’t possibly
be a heartbeat. He didn’t have a heart. And if he did, it was as
dead and unfeeling as the rest of him. Or…as the rest of him should
be.

“Yeah. You know. Humans get cold. It does
things…like tighten their nipples. It’s a lot of fun with the
women. A lot.”

“Why?”

“Oh man. You’ve been dead too long, or
something. Anybody can suck blood, KayNan. Few do it right. I
happen to be an expert. I’ve got a list of women that call me for
dates.”

“Oh. Hell. Akron?”

“Don’t ask me,” Akron inserted. “I’m going
to let Nigel dig this hole all by himself, although…this does
highlight why we’ve had an uptick in cell phone activity ever since
they got to be the thing in communication.”

“Well. It’s your policy, Sir. I can only use
them once. And heck. I’m called a lot. But once the chicks get too
old, they’re like…too old. Fresh blood. That’s my style.”

Oh…damn. That
was
his heart. KayNan
made fists about his chains as the muscle gave the slightest
tremble deep in his chest, and then continued with another one. In
a rhythmic fashion.

“My heart is beating,” he told them.

Dead silence answered. It lasted a full
three seconds. And then Nigel started sputtering.

“You lucky bastard! Here I am describing
things from memory as if I’m having the time of my un-life…and
you’re experiencing them?”

“I’m not experiencing anything. Except this.
Something weird is happening to me. All over.”

“Who is she?” Akron asked.

“Who?”

Nigel answered. “You’ve found your mate.
This is what happens. I don’t know how, and I don’t know why, or
when. And I’d be jealous, except you are hundreds of years older
than me. Shit. Does that mean I have to wait a millenia for my next
date with a condom?”

“What’s a condom?” KayNan asked.

“Ignore him. It’s easier. We’ll send you
over some videos. But Nigel is right about one thing. You are one
lucky bastard. So, tell us. Who is she?”

“All set, Sir. I mean, shoot. Hit me with
the details and I’ll be searching. We can always use new
associates. The one Reika just delivered is really something.
Name’s Darryl Bailes. Excellent knife skills. You should see the
targets those two can hit. They just completed a hit on—”

“Nigel.”

Akron stopped him.

“Oh. Sorry Sir. When you’re ready. Or…when
KayNan is ready. I’ll be typing. Any time now. Just give me some
details. A name. Anything.”

Akron sighed. The sigh made a throbbing
noise that swelled through the sound system.

“That’s just it,” KayNan replied. “I haven’t
met anyone.”

“No?”

“Well…anybody that I didn’t kill.”

“Ouch. That would be disastrous, eh?
Imagine, finding your one shot at reanimation and real live sex,
and then snuffing it out. Wow. What a bummer.”

“His targets were the Carlotti brothers,
Nigel. I sincerely doubt either of them were his mate.”

“Oh. Yeah. There is that. I’m just trying to
brainstorm, here.”

“Keep it to yourself then.”

“That’s not the point of brainstorming, Sir.
The idea is to toss out as many things as possible because one
might just trigger something else, and that might trigger something
else, and before you know it – voila! You have the answer.”

Another heavy sigh boomed through the
speakers.

“All right. Fine. I’ll stay silent. Geez.
Cut a guy some slack and what happens?”

“A guy might never get to play the VIDWAR
game again. That is what happens.”

“Oh. Got it, Sir. I’ll just anxiously await
instructions.”

“Are you still there, KayNan?” Akron
asked.

He was. He was licking his lips with his
tongue, and actually experiencing taste. Texture. Saltiness. And
Nigel had been right. He could use a shower.

“Yes,” he replied finally.

“You need to give me some perimeters to work
with here.”

“I don’t have any. I don’t get out much. You
know that. And this…just started.”

“Time frame?”

“Ten minutes ago. Maybe more.”

“Triggering event?”

“Oh, that’s a great question, Sir. Really
good.”

“Nigel—” Akron warned.

“I had a dream,” KayNan told them. “No.
Wait. It was more a…vision.”

“A woman?” Nigel asked.

“Just a face. Actually…it was her eyes.”

“Color?”

“Dark brown.”

“Get started on it, Nigel.”

“Right. Female. Dark brown eyes. Not much to
go by. I’m getting a bazillion hits, Sir.”

“Narrow it down then.”

“Right. How, Sir?”

“You could brainstorm.”

“Right. KayNan? Were her eyes any clue to
nationality? Age?”

“Not…really,” KayNan replied.

“Nigel.”

“Sir?”

“I was being facetious.”

“Oh. Okay. What should I do?”

“When were you last out of your home,
KayNan? And where?”

“The Carlos hit. Chicago.”

“Very good. Nigel? Shrink your search window
for dark-brown eyed women. Bring up the investigation into the
Carlotti murder. On my screen, too, please.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Here it is. The authorities have put
together a team of detectives to solve the crime. They’re being
pressured by the Carlotti family. Hey look. Aren’t they the same
firm that makes men’s suits?”

“Nigel.”

“Sir?”

“What happened this morning? About fifteen
minutes ago?”

“Oh. Autopsy…they just cut off the top of
his head. You want visual?”

“Later. And the crime scene?”

“Looks like they sent an officer to
accompany a woman. A psychic.”

“Stop, Nigel. Right there.”

“Sir?”

“KayNan?”

“Yes?” He leaned forward in his chair. The
leather slid against the grime on his legs. He was definitely
finding and using his shower the moment this was over.

“I’m checking out now. I’ll leave you with
Nigel.”

“But—”

“This is your mate.”

“You’re sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

“Nigel can handle the particulars. He can
send you the videos we mentioned, as well as assist you with your
new wardrobe.”

“What?”

“You’re going to need a nice menswear firm.
Due to recent history, I would not recommend the Carlotti Brothers.
And this is all I can do. I am signing off now.”

“But, Sir!”

“You don’t understand. Neither of you. I
have to go. Your mate has a powerful ability. So do I. That’s how I
know what I know. I do not wish our abilities to interact. On any
level. The last thing I wish is to be a voyeur in your…un-life. You
understand yet?”

“I guess.”

“Good. Nigel? Carry on.”

Akron signed off. The effect was akin to
turning the volume down. Dimming the lights. KayNan reached a hand
to rub across stubble on his chin. Upper lip. There wasn’t much,
because he’d shaved that fateful morning when he and the other
slaves had made a bid for freedom. And failed.

“Okay. KayNan, my man. Looks like your mate
is a pretty sweet looking brunette. Small. Dark brown eyes. And
wow. She has a nice set of—uh. I better shut up. You’ll hurt me.
Her name is Jeannette. She lives in Philadelphia. Has a small shop
that sells incense and other mood enhancing items. You know. Like
feng-shui. That sort of thing.”

“Feng-who?”

“Never mind. She inherited the space from an
elderly aunt. And a very nice quarterly income. That explains how
she can afford the taxes on that location. And here’s her home
address. Oh. You probably don’t want that.”

“Why not?”

“Because she’s not there. She’s in the windy
city. I’ve got her hotel. Her room number. And look. Here’s the
code on her room keycard. But first…I’d better get you set up with
some decent attire. Want it delivered to your PO Box in Nowhere,
North Dakota? Or…want it expressed to her five-star Hotel?”

“Which is faster?”

“The hotel. I’ll book you into the penthouse
suite. And…done. Oh. According to the file, you are still six foot
two. Two hundred and five pounds. I’m going to assume that’s
accurate. And your coloring probably looks best in winter
shades.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Menswear, my dear Barbarian. Menswear. Oh.
One more thing.”

KayNan stopped his finger on the power
button. “What?”

“You’re going to have silk neckwear with
your suit. Chains are definitely out of style this season. Trust
me. Leave the iron at home. And try out that shower!”

Ah…the scent of white tea, infused as this
was with strawberry, peach, and vanilla. Carrying the slightest
undertone of rose petal.

It was perfectly blended.

Subtle.

Jeannette’s hand trembled, holding the cup.
She forced it still before inhaling, her senses picking out each
taste and smell. She supposed she did qualify as the tea
connoisseur the waiter had called her after she’d sent him back
twice to get the right temperature for her water. It hadn’t been
said as a compliment. Jeannette sipped at her brew, holding the cup
within inhaling distance while the combination lingered on her
tongue. She swallowed. Took another sip. Each movement was designed
to give the concoction time to take effect. That’s why she’d placed
this particular mixture in her tea ball. She’d chosen it not only
for its aromatic qualities, but the soothing aura it usually
imbued. All of which might be ruined if it wasn’t steeped at
exactly the right temperature and for the correct amount of time.
She needed a temperature range of 149 to 158 degrees Fahrenheit,
and she needed to steep her tea for a minute and a half.