De La Rosa was gone by the time we reached the parking garage and Lord Clovis had adjourned the debriefing by the time we returned. I grabbed Jacob and told him to feed and meet us out front in an hour. Ariane and I grabbed a bite to eat at the diner on street level. Two steaks and baked potatoes. We were finishing up the milkshakes when our ride pulled up across the street. I tipped the evening cook and we left. I had the tingling sensation that we were going to make a breakthrough and I was eager to get Carl the help he needed.
Jacob turned us towards the bridge and we set out for Stygia.
"I still think your potatoes would taste better with less sour cream and more extra sharp cheddar," Ariane said.
"Maybe more bacon and chives," I replied, "but the sour cream stays."
"But you put too much!" she whined, before breaking into laughter.
"You don't put enough."
Jacob cleared his throat.
"Excuse me, Lieutenant."
I looked up at the rearview mirror. "Yes?"
"Ummm, not you, sir." He glanced around Ariane. "You, sir."
Her brow furrowed. "What's on your mind?"
"I need... I want to apologize for my behavior yesterday."
Ariane studied the driver for a moment. "Apology accepted. I look forward to working with you."
She and I exchanged surprised looks.
"I've been trying to get promoted for years and it rubs me the wrong way that you came into the fold as an officer." He stared at the road, pointedly keeping his eyes forward. "But I heard some things tonight, rude things, and I don't want to be associated with any of it. We're thrones and I need to act like it."
I'm not sure who was more impressed, Ariane or myself, but we continued to Agatha Home in quiet contemplation.
Agatha Home was an opulent estate seated on the Stygia waterfront. Once a public cemetery, the property had been converted to an exclusive memorial park with a large portion of the interior dominated by a palatial mausoleum. Surrounded by eight-foot high wrought iron fencing and topped by silvered barb wire, it was enough to keep all but the most curious away. Armed security guards patrolled the grounds twenty-four hours a day. The rats only came out at night.
The perimeter flood lights filled the interior of the van with blinding brightness. Jacob took us up the gravel driveway through a wooded section of the cemetery until we came to a wide open parking area. Rats were everywhere. Big ones, small ones, and some who probably spent some of their time in human form. A group of broad shouldered men approached the vehicle, cold looks in their eyes. They scanned the van and the road, taking in everything with military efficiency.
"What is your business here?" asked their leader, a 6'3 slab of muscle and attitude. He shined his flashlight into the van.
"We're here to speak to Mr. De La Rosa," I said past Jacob.
"Mr. De La Rosa is not expecting any visitors." His thick accent seamlessly substituted Ws for Vs.
I tried to read the man's expression, but he moved the light to disorient me.
"Can you lower your flashlight?"
"No. I can not," he said with a mocking tone.
A speaker out of my line of sight said something in Russian to the security guard. The tone of his reply said he didn't like it one bit. The beam died with a click. The guard clipped the flashlight to his belt and unclipped his pistol holster. His companions did the same, one in the back jacking two rounds into a double-barreled shotgun.
"Please, exit the vehicle."
I felt everyone in the van stiffen. We were in Agatha territory and technically subject to their laws, but most were bright enough to remember their place. Once we left the grounds, Gorgon belonged to the thrones. My eyes swept over the armed brutes and corrected myself. If we left the grounds.
"What's the meaning of this," Jacob asked, understandably agitated.
"Routine security check. Get out."
"Do you know who we are?" A low growl built in Jacob's chest.
"It doesn't matter," the guard responded. He twitched, looking left and right. His inner beast was swimming near the surface.
"We're coming out," I said, opening the side passenger door.
"What the heck is happening here?" Ariane whispered.
"We're about to find out."
The white gravel outside of Agatha Home reflected the floodlights, creating a bright open space between the treeline and the building proper. There had been no need for the flashlight other than to keep us unbalanced. Agatha Home was on lockdown. Anyone would be hard pressed to reach the building undetected, as was the obvious point. The lights and the killzone were new additions to the complex. Things were on edge in Agatha.
The security force all wore the same stylized snowflake insignia. Cold Locker Security. Simone Jandova's security firm. Her people operated in theaters all over the world, but were heavily sought after by private business firms in Gorgon and her neighboring cities. The income and connections made Agatha one of the stronger of the city's Great Houses. From what I could tell, the largest of Cold Locker's troops were all kept close to home. They were all slaves to the moon as well.
Ariane, Jacob, and I stepped away from the van as a rat the size of a doberman sniffed the tires and chassis. The guards created a loose circle around us, not invading our space but keeping us from wandering off.
A slimmer, but no less built guard approached us. "You will submit to security search, yes?"
"As my colleague inquired, what's going on here?" I asked.
I kept my hands at my side, aware I was armed with only my blades and they all had small arms. I had no doubt they were loaded with silver bullets. It might not have killed me, but Jacob was still fairly young and Ariane was a shapeshifter. If it came to violence, Agatha's military trained men would have the advantage.
"Routine security measures. Do you submit?"
"Not until I have an idea of what we're submitting to."
"We have had a number of unexpected break-in attempts over the last two months, Lieutenant," explained a third guard.
This one was shorter than the others, with a buzzcut and close set eyes. The scurrying rats lurking around the edge of our little gathering all stopped, giving him their undivided attention. He adjusted the glasses sitting on the edge of his nose with hands two sizes too large for his frame. Unlike the tactical gear worn by the others, he wore a business suit, but the Cold Locker pin on his collar was a loud and clear sign of his employment.
"Mr. Red has instituted large scale alterations to our security protocols." He offered me one of his large hands. "Sergei Jandova, chief of security here at Agatha Home."
I shook the offered hand. He squeezed my hand, showing me he could crush the bones if he wished and simultaneously let a bit of his power flow over me. He was powerful, possibly strong enough to hold his own rat pack, but he'd never be king.
"Jandova. Any relation to Simone?" I smiled, masking my discomfort.
"My sister." He released my hand.
"I see. I am Lieutenant Michele and this is Lieutenant Garcia, as I'm sure you are aware. We've just had a conversation with Mr. De La Rosa back at Throne HQ and I was hoping to ask him a few follow-up questions." I looked around at our little audience. "But first we'll submit to your routine security measures."
Sergei frowned and backed away, gesturing for his men to do their jobs. He spoke into a small earpiece with furtive glances back at the building. The guards closed around us and I raised my hands, hoping the others would follow my lead. They patted us down quickly, barely searching for anything hidden. Their investigation focused more on our eyes and temperature. Two different guards shined penlights into my eyes, studying my pupils and making notations on clipboards. They then used an external thermometer to check Ariane's body heat. They didn't seem concerned with our weapons at all.
When a man put on gloves and reached for Ariane's mouth, she snarled and pushed him away.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"
The man and his peers started shouting angry Russian at one another. Jacob and I moved closer to Ariane. I put my hand on the hilt of the long knife at my back.
"Sergei," I called.
He'd wandered closer to the house, but he jogged over. His expression said I was interrupting something important.
"Yes, what is it?"
"We're done with this security check. You've wasted enough of our time."
He looked past me to his men and the angry shouts began anew. He raised his hand and they all fell silent. He shook his head and chuckled as if it was all a joke.
"I apologize for my man's overzealousness. He merely wanted to be sure you weren't in some stage of the change. Please excuse him."
"No one else is allowed to touch me, is that understood," Ariane left no room for argument.
We'd stumbled into something odd at Agatha Home. At that moment I didn't know what.
He said something in their language and they all laughed. He gestured towards Ariane and made feminine pantomimes.
I could feel my partner's mounting aggravation like a furnace at my back. Jacob looked just as unhappy. I released my hold on my weapon and rolled up my sleeve revealing my tattoo. A badge of authority throughout the world.
"Enough. You know what this is," I turned so they all could get a good glimpse. "You know what this means." I faced Sergei. "We are here to speak to your House Patriarch. If you continue to hinder my investigation, I will return with a writ of execution and a warrant for your head."
The laughter stopped and Sergei looked like he'd eaten a bug. They were acting within their rights as guards on their House's property. Laws weren't being broken, but we all knew I could make good on my threat. What they didn't know was I would never abuse my position like that.
Sergei's face became stern. "Please, come with me."
I told Jacob to stay with the van and to keep the engine running. It already felt like we'd outstayed our welcome. Sergei led the way towards the large building, his men returned to their patrol, his rats followed us. The dog sized rat stayed with the van, eyeing Jacob suspiciously while rubbing its hands and tail.
"I don't like this," I said.
"I'm ready to leave. If another one of these bastards smirks at me, I'm going to rip his head off." Ariane growled at the swarm clustered around us and the vermin scattered. "I hate rats."
Sergei twitched in response to her words, but continued walking. There was no love lost between Stygia's rats and wolves.
The front of the building was dominated by a wide flight of stairs leading to large double doors. The architectural style was reminiscent of the antebellum south. If I hadn't already been uncomfortable, the plantation inspiration would have given me pause. As we reached the foot of the stairs, Mr. Red emerged with short blonde hair and a conservative goatee. He wore a white button up shirt and a vest in Agatha red with matching slacks and shoes. The reflection of the flood lights gave him almost an ethereal nimbus. Mr. Red jogged down to meet us, his face open and inviting.
I didn't miss the contradiction.
"That will be all, Sergei. I'll take care of our guests."
"As you wish, Master." Sergei bowed and departed. The rats stayed behind.
"Lieutenant Michele, Ariane Garcia," he shook our hands in turn. His hands were chill, but his parlor suggested he'd fed recently. "To what does Agatha owe this honor?"
"Good evening, Mr. Red. We were hoping to speak to Mr. De La Rosa," I said, hoping tactfulness would get us through the door.
"My sincerest apologies, but that will not be possible."
"We spoke to him an hour ago at headquarters, at his insistence."
"Yes, he wanted to share a few words, but he is now indisposed." Mr. Red shrugged, his smile equal parts sincere and patronizing. "You came all this way for nothing."
"Nonsense," I said, matching his artificial smile. "I'm sure you can help us."
Leaning casually against the stair's railing, he pulled a cigarette from a case within his vest and placed it between his lips.
"Do either of you smoke."
Ariane shook her head.
"Not in decades."
"I've quit a couple times myself, but the nicotine has always been an escape." He used a golden lighter to light his cigarette and took a long pull.
"What's happening here, Mr. Red?" Ariane asked. There was a tension in her body language and words. She also sensed something.
"Don't you watch the news, Ms. Garcia? It's the end of the world." He chuckled and took another pull of his cigarette.
"Lieutenant Garcia."
I nodded in agreement. He raised an eyebrow.
"You had questions?" Smoke swirled around his head like a white curtain.
"We wanted to ask your patriarch for a favor," I said. I let the anticipation build for a moment. "We need to speak to Jerald Thompson."
His smile faltered for the briefest of heartbeats. Most people wouldn't have noticed, but I had a knack for reading people's reactions.
"Jerald Thompson? What business do you have with Mr. Thompson?"
"He's responsible for the death of two thrones."
Mr. Red started a second cigarette, tossing the nearly finished butt into the dirt.
"The official charge is for the death of three thrones."
He tried to read my expression, but I remained stoic. I'd played this game for centuries. He wanted information or he would have sent us away. I suspected our meeting with Thompson would be closely monitored if it wasn't supervised outright. He would poke and prod, grabbing at anything we let slip. I immediately wished I'd taken time to teach Ariane how to keep her thoughts from her face.
"Yes. I have a few questions about the circumstances which led to his capture."
"I handled his interrogation personally." He exhaled, wreathing us all in a cloud of white. "I'm sure I can answer your inquiries. Is this for the official record?"
I felt a prickling across my scalp, tiny needles poking at my thoughts. I glanced over at my partner, who'd been surprisingly quiet. She was partially obscured by a curtain of smoke, but I caught a glimpse of her eyes. They were wide and unblinking, her expression slack. I turned to Mr. Red and he too was obscured, except for his eyes. They were swirling pits directing the smoke, manipulating the choking air. The rats had wandered off, no longer under sway of his power.
He was exercising his dominance on us.
I had a second to react. I could draw my weapon and defend myself, then arrest him for assault of an officer, or I could play along and see how far he would take his gambit. Burying my humanity, fear and anger, I let my limbs hang heavy and I stared forward. The smoke slid along my skin like crawling spiders. Mr. Red was strong, strong enough to dominate young vampires, an uncommon ability. His practiced smile became a sneer.
"Jerald Thompson is dead, executed for his crimes."
"Executed," Ariane droned, fully enthralled.
"We took his head because he put the entire operation in danger. He was a liability."
"Liability," I repeated, playing my role.
"There is no witness to question. The case has been closed."
I felt the smoke tighten. Ariane gasped and it took everything not to break character.
"Remind Hawkins we have a deal! This matter is dealt with, he is not to send anymore of his lackeys sniffing around and NO ONE is to disturb Mr. De la Rosa about this! Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes..." Ariane and I answered in unison.
"Good. Now get the hell off of my property."