Fallen Angel of Mine (25 page)

Resisting the urge to fling the belt
back at the mouthy twit, Elyssa strapped the belt around her waist
and pressed a hidden spot on the side of the buckle. The black
material flowed down her legs, up her torso, and across her arms,
covering her hands with gloves of the same material. Another
pressure point on the uniform's neck sent the material washing
across her face, molding perfectly to her head and forming a hood.
Even though it covered her eyes, she could see as clearly as though
nothing were there.

The girl's arrogant posture deflated a
bit. "You're already familiar with the armor I see."

Elyssa retracted the armor back into
the belt. "Just because we don't use it that often doesn't mean we
don't have Nightingale armor."

"Then you are not as ignorant as I had
feared." The girl pushed an equipment vest across the table. "If
something does confuse you, don't be afraid to ask me for
guidance."

It took a great deal of effort to keep
from punching the officious bitch in the nose. "And you
are?"

She returned a condescending smile. "I
am Fausta."

Weird name.

Inside the equipment vest Elyssa found
sleeper cuffs, a wrist-mounted Lancer, which shot silver
projectiles charmed to incapacitate just about any kind of
supernatural, and a variety of survival supplies she rarely used
for urban enforcement duties in Atlanta. Maybe this place really
was like the Wild West.

A set of matched katanas rounded out
the package. Elyssa slid them from their sheaths and tested one in
each hand with a few twirls. The superb balance in both blades
reassured her, though she wasn't a fan of their length. "Do you
have any sai swords?"

Fausta grunted. "Of course, but why
would you want toys over these?"

Elyssa shrugged. "I like the feel
better. Comes from fighting in tight quarters."

"Well, before you go back to your
kiddie swords, why don't you give these a try?"

"They're not kiddie swords," Elyssa
growled.

"Maybe you'll realize they are when
someone guts you with the extra foot of blade a katana gives
you."

"Want to test my kiddie swords against
your oversized kitchen knife?"

Fausta snorted. "You use sais, and
you're calling these oversized kitchen knives?"

"Any man-at-arms should know the value
of different blades. Oh wait, I guess you're actually a
girl-at-arms. My mistake."

"Ladies, we don't have time for this,"
Beck said, pushing between the two of them as Fausta tried to get
in Elyssa's face. He glanced at Elyssa. "Do you really want sai
swords or are you trying to be difficult?"

She flashed a sarcastic smile at him.
"Maybe I should test them on you."

Fausta huffed out a loud sigh and
dropped a matched pair of sheathed sais on the table. "Fine, have
it your way."

"Not like we'll be slicing and dicing
anyway," Beck said, making the sign of the cross on his chest.
"Don't want to piss off the Reds."

"I sincerely doubt they'll care if we
wipe out a splinter group," Fausta said. "I read about the last
time a group of newbie vamps pulled this crap on the Red Syndicate.
The Reds eradicated every last one without a second
thought."

"Yeah, but something strange is going
on with the old-school vamps," Beck said. "They don't even seem to
care about the Maximus issue."

"Probably because the Arcanes are ready
to go to war with the Reds over the Dallas massacre."

Now that was something Elyssa did
remember. "You mean when vampires attacked the Dallas branch of the
Ezzek Moore School for the Gifted?" Templars had briefly
investigated the horrific crime before the Arcane Council told them
they'd take care of it internally.

Fausta nodded. "Yep. Bunch of vamps
killed the best and brightest upcoming kid sorcerers before the
teachers could kill the attackers."

Beck picked up a slim silver dagger
from a nearby table and made a show of picking his fingernails.
"The Reds said they didn't have anything to do with it, but the
Arcane Council claimed that one of the attackers was a high-ranking
officer in Red Cell."

Red Cell was the vampire equivalent of
the Templars, protecting the interests of their ancient masters and
taking care of internal affairs, but the Syndicate hadn't used them
in offensive operations for centuries, as far she knew. Physical
fights among the major Overworld factions were also rare, which
made the Dallas incident all the more troubling.

Beck tugged on her elbow. "We'd better
go. Christian's gonna start the briefing soon."

Elyssa grabbed both sets of swords—just
to be on the safe side—and shoved the other stuff under her
arm.

Fausta smirked. "I hope your toothpicks
keep you safe." She walked back to her chair and looked up just as
Elyssa opened the door to leave. "Oh, and I'm more than happy to
spar anytime you like."

Elyssa raised an eyebrow. "Looking
forward to it." She resisted the urge to stick out her tongue and
left.

"It's good to see you make friends just
as easily now as the last time I saw you," Beck said with a dry
chuckle.

She would have punched his shoulder
again, but her arms were full. "I'm not the one who got bent out of
shape over someone else's choice of swords."

"Yeah, don't take it the wrong way.
Fausta thinks she's a badass. Then again, so do you."

"Is she?"

One corner of his mouth curved up into
a lopsided grin. "Pretty much, yeah."

Several Templars hurried past them into
the building that housed the briefing room. Elyssa followed them
inside the squat building and down a wide hallway until she reached
an auditorium semi-circled by raised tiers of stadium seats.
Christian stood next to a black table in the front. She and Beck
took adjoining seats as the room filled with fully outfitted
Templars. The air conditioning and ceiling fans made the only noise
aside from the occasional shuffle of someone slipping into a chair.
This group seemed disciplined. Battle-ready.

Christian checked the time and made a
crisscrossing gesture at the doors, sealing them into a seamless
surface. He withdrew a shiny white globe, an all-seeing eye the
size of a marble, from a chest and placed it on the table. The ASE
spun on its axis, spinning faster and faster until a holographic
image burst to life, dominating the table surface.

The Templar commander paused the
playback. "Meet Maximus, a former Red Cell recruit who went rogue a
couple months ago, according to our information." He waved a hand
at the ASE and playback resumed.

The ASE had obviously been spying from
the ceiling of a room and provided a great view of the packed
audience—mostly young people—with a platform in the center. Atop a
podium stood a tall, muscular male in a long, leather trench coat
and wrap-around shades. A thick goatee multiplied his douchebag
factor by about a million.

Maximus smiled at the crowd. "For too
long, we have let the ancients push us around and tell us who could
join the Syndicate and who couldn't. I'm here to tell you that
everything is about to change and we're the ones to do it!" Maximus
pumped a fist in the air and displayed his fangs in a predatory
grin.

A roar of shouts and applause met his
declaration. Although Elyssa pegged the speaker's physical age at
about thirty, she knew he could be hundreds of years
older.

"Our work here is just starting,"
Maximus said, "but we have allies who will push our agenda forward
until our voice is heard. They will not ignore Blood
Rush."

The crowd roared. A chant went up,
"Max-i-mus, MAX-I-MUS!"

He stroked his goatee and smiled,
wallowing in the adoration like a pig in poop for a moment, before
holding up a hand and silencing them. "How many of you are
candidates for the gift?"

A hundred or more hands went
up.

"I have personally given the gift to
thousands, and you will each receive your reward in turn. Go spread
the word. Recruit, recruit, recruit!" He pounded the bottom of his
fist into the other palm for emphasis. "United, we will force the
ancients to give us the immortality and power we
deserve!"

The mob exploded into
jubilation.

Christian motioned for the ASE to stop
playback. "This is what we're up against, people. A cult filled not
just with young vampires, but noms who fanatically want to become
vampires. Maximus calls his movement Blood Rush, and it's spreading
across Bogota like a cancer."

Elyssa thought the name sounded like
something a hormonal teenage boy would name his band. How could
people take an idiot like this Maximus creep seriously?

"Shouldn't Red Cell be taking care of
this?" someone asked.

"Red Cell is occupied with the Arcane
Council, and all our attempts to push them to action have been met
with silence or bureaucratic red tape. The Overworld Conclave has
also taken no action. However, supers are revealing their existence
to noms, a clear violation of Conclave rules. What that means,
people, is this is our mess to clean up."

A man in the front pointed to the mob
in the image. "But those noms look like they want to be
vampires."

Christian shrugged. "Recruiting noms
for membership by any supernatural nation is forbidden, no matter
how much the noms want in. Incidental exposure is technically
allowed, but this, obviously, goes way beyond that."

"The vamps have always been the biggest
abusers of the incidental exposure clause," someone near the front
said.

"The Arcanes use it too," Christian
replied. "Daemos are the ones who usually fight tooth and nail
against these things because they can't turn anyone into one of
them, unlike most other supers." He pinched two fingers together
over the image, zooming out until the area outside the building
could be seen. Cramped streets and crowded buildings surrounded
it.

The engagement zone looked a lot
tighter than what Elyssa usually faced in Atlanta, allowing ample
opportunity for concealment. She noted six exits on the building,
five sewage covers, and over a dozen possible staging areas for
Templar forces to gain superior elevation.

"What's the target's traveling
contingent?" she asked.

"His entourage consists of nearly
thirty vampires, some with military training. All are less than a
century old."

Elyssa had seen this sort of situation
before and opened her mouth to tell Christian what he should do
when a chiming noise dinged from the back of the room. She turned
in time to see doors form in the wall. A man stepped through and
hurried down the aisle to Christian. After a moment of
consultation, the man nodded briskly and sped back out of the
room.

A smile broke onto Christian's face.
"It appears a high-value target on the Hot List has been reported
in our territory. The window of opportunity to catch him is short.
Prep for armed, rural engagement and meet on the air pad in
fifteen. Dismissed!"

Beck groaned as Templars hurried out in
orderly fashion.

"What's wrong?" Elyssa said.

"Nothing, if you like dodging a hail of
bullets."

Bullets didn't worry her—the
Nightingale armor would stop them. What did concern her was how
quickly Christian switched from what appeared to be a high-priority
mission to their new assignment. Templars didn't put just any old
criminal on the Hot List without a really good reason. They also
didn't just fly off on a new mission half-cocked. Whoever they were
going after probably not only threatened the stability of the
Conclave even more than Maximus, but was exceedingly
dangerous.

And Elyssa had a really bad feeling
about it.

I must have passed out for a moment.
Maybe longer, because I opened my eyes when someone slapped
me.

I need a woman.

But how was I going to convince them to
bring in a woman after Franco made it very clear there were to be
no women in here?

It was all I could do to keep my eyes
open. Dark spots crept along the edges of my vision. I had to do
something. Anything. These guys were grade-A bullies if ever I'd
seen one. They made Nathan Spelman look angelic. To get what I
wanted, I had to be pathetic. Make them think they were crushing my
spirit. I knew one thing guys would pounce on in a
heartbeat.

"Mommy?" I said. "Was Mommy
here?"

"No, young man," the doctor said, his
voice full of pity. "That wasn't—"

"Mommy?" Diego said, sheer joy lighting
his voice. He rattled off a sentence in Spanish. Jose roared with
laughter and said something. Diego crouched next to me, putting his
ugly little face right in mine. He reeked of beans and cigarette
smoke. "You want your mommy? We get her. She kiss you all
better."

"Please, I want my mommy," I wheezed in
a harsh whisper. It wasn't hard to sound pathetic with morphine
pumping through my battered body.