White Winter (The Black Year Series Book 2) (20 page)

“Makes sense,” Jonas said.

“Kind of. We got called in because the Agency rigged silent alarms on the bigger butchers’ freezers. There were three hogs missing, about 180 pounds each.”

“That’s 145 pounds of meat per pig, or 20 days’ supply for someone my size,” Kieran added, then blew his nose.

“Thanks,” Frank said.

“So, werewolves,” Jonas said.

“Could still be a burglary,” Frank said. “That’s 2700 dollars’ worth of meat. It’s more than was in the safe.”

Billy snorted. “What, you think humans dragged their tools and 600 pounds of pig out that quick and no one noticed? It’s werewolves. Werewolves trying to hide that they’re werewolves. Couldn’t you smell them?” he asked Kieran.

“They sprayed OC around the door,” Frank said.

Kieran nodded.

“Aww, man! I’m sorry, that sucks.”

Everyone in the truck looked at Billy in surprise.

“What? I know
exactly
what OC does to a wolf’s sniffer.”

Kieran growled in his throat.

“So, what do we do?” Jonas asked Frank.

“Billy?”

He shrugged. “We wait. If it’s wolves, they’ll do it again. Should take about two weeks if it’s just the one pack.”

♘

“Well, shit,” Billy said, scratching his head.

The fire department had already doused the flames by the time they arrived. The barbecue place to the right was untouched, but La Antillana Meat Warehouse and the 99-cent store to the left were gutted, and firemen had found two charred bodies in the wreckage.

“That’s the third in ten days, Frank. That’s enough for 35 fighting-weight wolves.”

“Maybe,” Frank said.

“Ain’t no ‘maybe’ about it, Frank. That’s just math,” Billy said.

Jonas shifted his weight, resting his elbows on his holster and magazine pouches. Between the training and getting called out on cases where supernaturals might be involved, he was starting to get used to wearing the gear.

“They could be stocking up,” Frank said, “putting the meat on ice in case they need it later.”

“Shit.”

♘

Chief Grady crossed his arms. “It’s a good theory, Frank, and I think that may be part of the answer, but I have another one for you.”

“What’s that, Chief?” Frank said.

Lawrence Grady, the Manhattan branch ops chief, leaned in and spoke to one of the operators. A map of the Five Boroughs filled the main display. “They hit us here, here, and here. Different borough each time, starting closest to the Agency. Different time of night. Different day of the week. Different bridge between us and them.”

“They’re testing our reaction times,” Frank said.

Grady nodded. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

CHAPTER 22

The Sorcerer cracked his neck as he rubbed out the muscles in his right shoulder. Jonas recognized him as Gamil-Sin, now, but the dream remained impersonal, detached. The bite had already healed, only soreness remained, and hunger. He could smell the blood that caked the altar, the stone, so much of it that it ran down the hundreds of steps and turned the ground at the base to mud. The whole pyramid smelled like a slaughterhouse, but instead of making him nauseous, he found himself salivating every time the wind shifted.

His advisors stood in the shadowed entrance, watching.

“Is it done, my lord?” Alam-Baal asked. He held the book of the law, its cover stained with heart’s blood, the Sorcerer’s handprint burnt into its cover by the power of his oath.

He nodded. “If the creator wants me dead, he’ll have to try harder.” It was bravado, of course. Part of him expected white fire from the sky, the high-pitched smell of burnt air, the growl of the creator’s wrath. Nothing. He licked his lips. “Will you come find me, after the flood?”

Alam-Baal laughed. It chilled his bones. “No.”

Balasi, the dreamer, who the Sorcerer had chided more than once for his idle stargazing, smiled at the others. They smiled back, touching his hands, his shoulder, and his cheek. He disrobed. Wearing nothing but a loincloth, he stepped into the sun.

“No!” the Sorcerer shouted. He lunged forward, but strong hands grabbed his upper arms. “What are you doing?”

Dibbarra, healer and life-taker, stepped into the sun.

“Eight-hundred years!” Alam-Baal said. “For 800 years we witnessed your selfishness, your inhuman search for immortality. Well, we’ve completed your work, master, and you can have it!”

Tiamat, her pale body as flawless as when he pulled her from the slave pits, her eyes mad, stepped into the sun. He struggled. The jackals’ grip was crushing. Allatu, mistress of the pits, and Nabu-Bel-Uzur, his own bodyguard, stepped into the sun together, holding hands. The skies rumbled, and a drop of water hit the Sorcerer in the back of the neck.

“Take him away,” Alam-Baal said, removing his robes. The jackals turned the Sorcerer around, and he hung limp as they led him down the blood-caked steps. “May you choke on the creator’s tears, Gamil-Sin. May you never know a moment’s peace. May you spend eternity shackled to your oath, with none to name you friend, and may the world forget your name.”

Once the Sorcerer was halfway down the pyramid, Alam-Baal sighed and put his robes back on.

“Well, that was a thing, wasn’t it?” the old werewolf cackled. He stooped to pick up the crimson book with his knobby hands and handed it to Alam-Baal. “I take it you won’t be offing yourself, then?”

Alam-Baal shrugged. “Maybe if this was his story, I would have. But I intend to live as long as I wish to. I might even drop by, once in a while, to watch him suffer.” The sky was darkening quickly, and the wind whipped the surround trees. “What will you do?” he asked.

The old werewolf grinned. “I thought I’d try hunting something dangerous, like an elephant or one of those big cats.”

Alam-Baal felt a twinge of affection for the pup he’d found abandoned in the pits and raised from childhood. He hugged the old man’s broken body, kissing the top of his furry head. “Die well, my friend.”

“I can only hope.”

♘

“Jonas? Jonas, wake up.”

Jonas gasped. Eve was shaking him, one hand on his shoulder and the other on the center of his chest. “I’m awake. What happened?”

“You thrashed around; kneed me in the leg pretty hard. Then you started crying.”

He reached up and felt his cheeks were wet. “Sorry. I had another one of those dreams.”

“The ones with Gam-whatever-his-name-is?” she said, resting her head on his chest.

“Gamil-Sin, yeah.”

“I wish I got to meet him,” she said, yawning. “I’m always out of town when the crazy stuff happens.”

He gave her a squeeze. “Yes, dear. I have all the fun. You think it’s linked to the prophecy?”

He stroked her arm. “I don’t think so. I wish I could just dream about something normal.”

“I like that about you. You’re like Fate’s lightning rod.”

Jonas winced.

After a few minutes, her breathing evened out and she rolled over to her side of the bed. He fell asleep to the smell of lotion and soap.

♘

Jonas yawned and pulled on his shoes.

“Going back to your room?” Eve said.

“Yeah, I need to get ready. I’m working with my mom today.”

“That’s exciting.”

“Sort of. I think she’s checking up on my training.”

Eve propped herself up on her elbow. “Jonas, it’s Alice Black.”

“Okay?”

“Alice Black is taking a personal interest in your training. I don’t care if she’s your mom. I’d kill for a chance like that. I mean that literally. I’ll probably kill you if you don’t share the memory of it with me.”

Jonas grinned. “What’ll you give me for it?”

“A whole case of not dying.”

“Second base?”

“Not happening.”

“How about a kiss?”

She smirked, then put her head back down and turned her back to him. “I’ll think about it. Hurry up or you’ll be late.”

♘

Jonas stepped into the elevator and saw Chief Grady, thermos in hand.

“Hey, sir, good morning. Going to see the Director?”

“Yes, Chief. Thanks. You drink coffee?”

Grady shook his head. “Fresh hemoglobin, sir. Low iron content, sampled before oxygenation and after passing through the liver. I’m a bit of a blood snob,” he said, grinning.

“Is it really that different from what’s in the packs?”

Grady wrinkled his nose. “I’ll bring you a mug later, sir. Tasting is believing.” The elevator doors slid open. “Have a good night, sir.”

“You too, Chief.”

There were more people in the hallways than usual, some of whom he’d never seen before. He tried to greet people by name when he recognized them, or at least read their badges or nametapes.

“Good evening, sir.”

“Evening, Jameson.”

“Evening, Mr. Black!”

“Hi, Mike. How are you?”

He reached the end of the hallway. Grady turned left, and Jonas turned right. He knocked on the door.

“Come in, Jonas,” Alice said.

He closed the door behind him. Alice raised a finger to her lips and pointed at her headset. “Did he say why he’s here?” Her hair was up in a tight bun. She was wearing the same black fatigues as Jonas, except she’d pinned the gold and black rose she usually wore to her left collar. She didn’t look happy. “No, that’s fine, send him down.” She tapped her earpiece and took it off. “We’re going to have to entertain a guest for a few minutes before we go,” she said. She started closing her files, then added, “It’s important that this man not sense any special relationship between us he might be tempted to use. I may have to treat you a little coldly.”

“Okay,” Jonas said. He had mixed feelings about what she’d just said. He was pretty sure she loved him, but their relationship hadn’t been warm since his dad was taken.

Alice looked at him and frowned, then finished shutting down her screens. Jonas moved to the far side of the desk, facing the door.

Someone knocked.

“Come in,” Alice said, standing behind her desk.

A man in his early forties with a side-part and an expensive looking suit walked in, followed by a bodyguard who looked like he was in the Secret Service. “Alice! What has it been, a month?”

“How can I help you, Senator Wright?”

He offered her his hand across the desk. “Please, call me Ben. You knew my grandfather, after all.”

“I did, Senator. Please call me Mrs. Black. I’m more than ten times your age, and your grandfather always made an appointment.”

The smile never left his face. He pulled his hand back and said, “And who’s this? Is this Jonas?”

Be polite,
Alice sent him.

“Yes, sir, Senator. Pleased to meet you,” Jonas said, shaking his hand. He had a firm grip.
Warded. More than one.
Jonas could see lines of magic around the man’s lapel pin, his watch, and at his right hip.

“Likewise. Is this a mission, or are you two training together?”

“The Director is evaluating my progress, sir.”

The senator smiled at Alice. “Your son is as formal as you, Mrs. Black.”

“We prefer the term fledgling, Senator,” Alice said. “It’s my responsibility to ensure he’s competent, or to replace him with someone who is.”

Even forewarned, it felt like a punch in the gut. The senator gave Jonas a sympathetic look. Jonas did his best to look bored.

“Well, I won’t keep you. This was just meant to be a courtesy visit. I would mention that I’m pushing for the Committee to allow you to handle the inquiry into former Director Fangston’s activities without interference, but-”

“Senator?” Alice interrupted.

“Yes, Mrs. Black?” he said, his face tight.

“You have no authority over the Agency except for agreements Marcus, Victor, and I made with men who are now dead. But for all the posturing you’ve done today, I liked your grandfather, and your father as well. They were hard men. Honest. Not greedy, but given to ambition, just like you are, and willing to pay the price for it. Should the Presidency fall to the Republicans three years from now, you’ll move up, lead the subcommittee on supernatural affairs.”

He chuckled. “You make it sound easy. What’s the price, then?”

“Find Victor.”

“That’s it? It seems so… petty, compared to what you’re offering.”

She offered him her hand.

He took it. “I’ll be in touch.”

“Thank you, Senator. I look forward to hearing from you.”

“Nice to meet you, Jonas.”

“Pleasure meeting you too, sir,” Jonas answered. He kept his expression neutral until the door clicked shut. “Wow. That was intense.”

“All in a day’s work. He’s the third one this week.”