UMBRACOS
By I. D. Martin
Word Count: 9000
She dropped from the parapet, muscles loose and relaxed; the stench of the place a minor distraction. The scent of her prey filled her up and the Need drove everything. She landed easily, bending at the knees only enough to absorb the twelve-metre fall. The young man pissing against the pub wall heard nothing.
She inhaled deeply.
And heard the arterial flutter of alcohol fuelled fibrillation, the rhythmic beat of the great muscle - loping across the alley she covered the eight odd metres in an elegant flash to snatch her victim from the shadows. Urine sprayed the wall anew followed by rich, red blood as she sank her fangs deep into the neck, ripping and slashing, opening the veins, her tongue channelling the precious fluid into her throat, which rippled in greedy suction. Relief flooded her and momentarily weak she sank forward wedging the convulsing body against herself and the wall. She sucked harder, taking as much blood as possible before shock stilled the heart and stopped the flow.
Letting the body fall she supported herself against the rank wall, breathing deeply, greedily, her body quivering with relief and mounting desire. She had to feed but the blood fired her loins and unsatisfied, she sort more until sated and immobile.
A final violent shudder ran through her flanks and she stepped away from the wall. Her Need rose higher and she turned seeking a mate, a soft mewing whine coming from deep within. Finding no one, anger flooded forward and her thirst rose fresh again. She leapt straight up, energised, angry and hungry, to land on the second storey gable of the ancient hotel. Silent and lethal she set out across the roofs of Brisbane's Fortitude Valley seeking more young blood.
***
"When we find her, she will need to be thoroughly tested."
"Agreed. Contamination is unlikely but all unsupervised feeding is a risk. It galls me that we did not see her deterioration."
"Do not castigate yourself, Amicus. This Hunt has dominated us for over two decades. Complication begets contrition, after all. Ventora was a responsible member of the warren. Her need should have been declared."
"Her greed will tarnish your elevation ..."
"Not if the Hunt is successfully concluded. Amicus, compatriot, you are my successor, rightly so. We will prevail. I go to my reward fully satisfied. She will not sully our achievements. Now ... here are the paramedics. Let us depart."
"Yes, Paternoster. The good doctor continues to put himself at risk. I would check his guardians. Ventora's rage has unsettled us all."
The shadows above the alley shifted as the ambulance turned the corner of the cul-de-sac, masking their withdrawal.
***
"What AM I going to do with you, Senior Constable?"
This came as something of a shock to the aforementioned, as she had expected to be reassigned to somewhere very west of Mt Isa. She bit off a caustic reply and waited.
"The preliminary review doesn't actually say you did the wrong thing," mused the Deputy Commissioner, "But it does point out that shooting the detective in the leg and then half strangling him was a less than ideal response to his stupidity. By the way where did you get the silencer?"
Gill suppressed a grin, "Made it myself, Sir. Glock don't offer it as an option."
"Indeed. And why would a uniformed officer need a silencer, no ... don't answer that. Listen Benson, you're on ice thinner than pantihose right now. If the whole thing hadn't been so public and the Tactical boys hadn't backed you, your arse would be toast. For Christ's fucking sake, you shot one of your own." By this time the Deputy was standing as were the veins on his neck.
Gillian Benson, Gill, to anyone who got close, regarded her superior with a look that gave even him pause. As he sat back down, she answered, " Because the dickless fuck was about to get six or seven innocent people killed all because he was fuckin' bored. He ignored direct orders from Tactical and his own team leader. You're lucky I took the time to aim."
The DC sighed, "I know, I know ... take a seat Gill. Sorry, I needed to clear the air."
"And be heard yelling so it gets back to the Commissioner."
"Yeah, that too."
Gill slumped into the leather chair opposite her commander's desk. "I carry the silencer for situations like that one; hostages, sieges, you know; where we need to keep quiet. It's saved my proverbial more than once. "
"It's against regulations."
"So's hitting suspects but ..."
"OK, OK"
The Deputy opened a slim file on his desk. Here it comes, thought Gill.
"The Commissioner has decided that you need to be isolated till things cool down. He tossed the file across the desk. Gill looked at it for several seconds then picked it up and began to speed read the few pages it contained.
"Great. Baby sitter!"
"Escort and Liaison to a foreign dignitary."
"Bullshit"
"And you would rather ... what?"
"Yeah. So who'd he piss off?"
The Deputy rose and walked over to his rather generous office window. Speaking as he gazed out over the river, he said, "The twenty ninth Earl of Claybrook, the right honourable Conner Brevington, Esquire does not piss people off. Your job is to take him anywhere he wants to go; keep out of the way and NOT shoot anyone. With just a little bit of luck his visit here will be a dead end and he'll leave - in about a week. Perfect timing. Your protection training has finally paid off."
He turned and walked back to stand in front of Gill who rose as she approached. He had to look up slightly. "Keep out of harm's way for six or seven days, Gill and things'll work out. Somehow. He's downstairs, waiting, now."
"Yes, Sir," she replied. Snapping the folder closed she turned and walked briskly to the door casting one last glance at the Deputy Commissioner who had returned to his window.
***
Conner watched his minder approach. He'd been given a photo at the embassy so he recognised her as soon as she left the lift. The picture and its attendant file did not, however, do the woman justice. Six feet tall, broad shouldered, narrow hipped, short ash blond hair and pale honey skin - almost androgynous really, but she moved well. And according to the file could use the brain behind those brilliant blue eyes. He flicked himself casually off the car he'd been leaning against and stepped forward to introduce himself.
***
Gill almost missed a step as she exited the building, realising in a compressed rush that the man who had just moved and the car behind him must be her package. He was a few inches taller and lean in a dangerous sort of way despite the designer suite. But the car - oh my fuckin' gosh Almighty - a Bentley Continental GT. With the sports pack if she wasn't mistaken.
She focused on the man who had extended his hand. "What do I call you .. my lord?"
"Hardly. Call me Conner. Mr Brevington, if you must. And you?"
She hesitated. His accent was delicious. Cultured but not affected, almost New England USA but with a very slight lilt. And he obviously didn't suffer fools.
"Gill. Senior Constable in company. Otherwise just Gill. Do I get to drive this?" she replied, giving in to temptation at last and stepping around him to run a delicate finger over the low hood of the gorgeously black car.
"She's all yours. The file said you've trained on this model, I believe." Conner had walked to the passenger side and slipped into the shotgun position, which drew a frown from Gill as she took the driver's seat. The keys were in the ignition so she pressed the start button. "Sweet. Where to, Conner?"
***
The university's new medical building was one of those architectural indulgences that looked good in magazines but really assaulted the eyes up close. Gill leaned back against the car and tried to figure out how a truncated buttress and a split pediment were supposed to meet. She was getting a headache so she gazed into the distance and let her mind drift while she waited.
A movement snapped her back to the present. Conner was exiting the building followed by a somewhat flustered clerk, it seemed. The pencil pusher said something that stopped Conner in his tracks. His retort was obviously effective because the other man turned scarlet and then fled. Conner cocked an eyebrow as he returned and asked, "Can we get a coffee somewhere, please; I need to think."
"Sure; know just the place."
After a short drive, part of which involved a bridge that was supposedly only for buses, they arrived at an old pub under a steel arch bridge that reminded Conner of the Brooklyn in far off New York. Somewhere he wished he was right now.
"Care to share your troubles," said Gill, as they took a seat in the courtyard.
"Are you sure you want to know?"
"We've got a week sharing the leather, my lord. I'll get bored otherwise. That's not good by the way."
Conner laughed, a rich, rolling baritone that automatically brought a smile to her lips.
"Very well. At the beginning then. Six months ago an English professor of Medicine died in a bizarre accident at a laboratory in Winchester. His area of expertise was genetics, cloning specifically and his death was a serious setback in the quest to create viable organ replacements. He'd been involved in a joint-venture with the Genetica Foundation through Sydney University and the team leaders there flew to Britain to review his work and select a replacement. Eventually it was decided they would take all of his material to Sydney and set up a dedicated facility rather than split the effort as before. One of those leading the team was Dr Meredith Galvin. Merry and I were close some years ago before our paths diverged."
Conner looked out to the bridge, remembering and then looked back at Gill. "You're a good listener. I've usually put most people to sleep by now."
"Most people have the attention span of gnats. I figure the background's important, so .. please."
"Very well. Two months ago Dr Galvin and her co-leader Professor Paul Nguyen died on the same day. Night actually. Merry was mugged and bled to death from multiple stab wounds. Dr Nguyen walked into the path of a bus. His blood alcohol level was through the roof."
"And ..."
"Nguyen was a life long teetotal and Merry had a black belt in Ju-jitsu."
"Not a coincidence"
"No. Their combined knowledge was such that the project couldn't continue. Those three were the top of their respective heap. The loss could take decades to replace."
"Rival researchers, Christian crackpots, what?"
"No one knows. Every clue is a dead end. Those who make the decisions have given up."
"Not you?"
"No."
"Because of her?"
"Partly. I felt I owed her and that's not changed. But, you don't walk away from such obvious assassinations. I will know why. And they will pay."
Gill felt a shiver run up her thighs and curl around her spine. Some of her instructors at the Executive Protection course had this same gravity and conviction -men who had not merely killed numerous times but who had planned and ordered the same with the absolute certainty of success. Conner was a little more than an earl, it seemed.
"And the connection is here in Brisbane, how?"
Conner looked at his companion. There was a quiet hunger in her eyes that spoke volumes. She was a Chaser, someone who relished the hunt and would not give up easily. An ally, maybe. Already in hot water, he knew from her file, she seemed undaunted by the prospect of more.
Tough, too. She had excelled in the protection training that was rarely attempted by ordinary cops. SAS instructors, counter-terrorism tactics, weapons and bomb disposal training and close combat work-all the precursors to acceptance into Intelligence. And his little puzzle might give her that leg up. Or get her killed.
"The only remaining expert in the field is here. Dr Preston Minetti. He's considered an excentric but he's closer than anyone else to duplicating the Foundation's work. Actually, excentric is too polite. Minetti is certifiable. But brilliant. He works from a series of private labs as well as several of the university's research departments. The Dean whom you saw me arguing with .."
"That was the Dean. He looked like a ..."
"Quite. A time server who didn't want his private endowments threatened. He wasn't keen for Minetti to be interrogated but agreed to arrange a meeting this afternoon. If I don't receive a call soon, the university will find itself ineligible for Royal College of Medicine accreditation next year."
"You can do that?"
"Yes, actually, I can."
Their coffees finally arrived as Conner's mobile phone beeped. He whipped it smoothly out of some invisible pocket and said, "Brevington." After several seconds he rang off.
"Done. Three PM at Petrie Terrace. Do you know where that is?"
"No problem."
***
"That's one ugly little man," said Gill to no one in particular.
Conner agreed, trying to rid himself of the sense of contamination that had risen quickly after meeting the geneticist. He was having little success. Gill seemed to be in the same state, muttering to herself as she wandered back to the car.
Her back was to him momentarily so he stopped, closed his eyes almost shut and invoked a few guttural phrases under his breath. His heart stopped and his nervous system reacted instantly sending a cacophony of chemicals into every cellular nook and cranny to preserve the essential body. Conner grunted and his heart started again - superb biofeedback control using the body's defences to rid himself finally of the overpowering malaise brought on by the twisted creature who called himself Preston Minetti.
He opened his eyes fully to find Gill staring at him. "What did you just do?" she asked directly.
"A little trick - clears the mind. I needed it."
"Amen to that."
***
Gone. Gone, gone, gone. At last.
The woman was horrible; a dyke surely. So tall. And thin ... ugh! Nice uniform, though. On the right body ... oh, yes!
The man ... something odd there. He seemed to know ... things. Bad things.
No matter. They knew nothing about the Work. The Work, need the Work. Need Stimulation to do the Work.
Stimulation. Yes. When ...
Tonight. Yes.
Must be careful, though. They are watching; someone, someone. Sure of it
So close now. A viable cell medium was certain. Those fools at Genetica had wasted years trying to build from scratch when all you needed was the medium. Then introduce the customised baseline code and sit back and watch. And harvest the viable outcomes. The trials were nearly done; just had to get all the components and one last piece of equipment and ... and...
Stimulation, that's what I need ... yes ....STIMULATION
To do the work ...
Tonight.
***
Ventora's aerie was an exquisite study in understatement. The niche had been discovered by accident on a rare occasion when a Hunt had gone badly. She had been pursued by a human gang and rather than slaughter the fools and reveal herself she had run and then slipped over the edge of the great steel bridge to hang breathlessly from its underskirts while the erstwhile hunters had blundered past; which was where she found this convenient crevice.
She had known on that fateful night she would need a hiding place eventually. No civilised creature could tolerate this perverse existence for long. Feeding like gorta, on artificial food; unable to even sate one's lust when it came; confined and fed hallucinogenics like a deranged elder. All in the name of the Great Hunt; the enslavement of an entire race.
She brooded all day.
And as night fell she came out to feed.
***
Amicus brooded also, as he waited. While Paternoster checked the perimeter his prot\u00e9g\u00e9 reviewed their current predicament. The shadows cloaked him and he subliminally catalogued the passing trade - the few early clients to this house of human oddities. Slave and Master. Both concepts eluded him philosophically although he understood and frequently used their intricacies to advantage. Minetti's predictability being a point in question. The doctor seemed entranced by this ritual.
Amicus had other worries, however. Ventora among them but more importantly the constantly changing timeline of this Hunt. He did not shrink from complexity but too much was happening for his liking. And Paternoster was due his elevation. Something threatened by their current dilemma. He was determined that his mentor would not be denied his reward for over a century of effort and outstanding progress. The old fox had brought them to the crux point of the greatest hunt ever. One more human generation and they could reveal themselves. With strings attached of course. And the bonus in the whole process was that then, only then could they create a truly natural food source for themselves. Openly. Freely. And the humans would gladly cooperate. Ventora's dilemma would evaporate. Somewhat, at least. The Breeders still controlled mating and refused to let the Hunters copulate. Contamination and mutation were their constant fear. Unfounded according to Paternoster but until elevation his opinion carried no weight. So, Preston Minetti must not be allowed to achieve his goals.
Amicus straightened as he caught his teacher's scent and recognised the aroma of excitement. Paternoster glided through the early evening shadows, a dark flash, half glimpsed and then gone. Amicus moved similarly to reach an overhang that concealed them both.
"I have her."
"How far?"
"Two hundred metres but moving fast. Follow me but leave a good gap. We must be flexible."
The elder creature moved followed a few seconds later by his pupil.
***
"How long's he been in there?"
"Two hours."
"Yuck."
"Submission not your thing?"
Gill glanced at Conner, a sly grin tugging at her lips. "Is it yours?"
"No. My preferences are more cooperative. You?"
"Please. Minetti's clever, though. This place is legal. If not, we could take him in and probably save ourselves some time."
"True. But would he make any sense ... what the hell was that?"
Gill glanced in the direction Conner was pointing. Through the car's windscreen they saw a tall, thin man sprint impossibly fast across a deserted square adjacent the brothel where Minetti was indulging himself.
Simultaneously they exited the Bentley and jogged to the spot the man had last been seen. It entered a concealed alley. At its end the man stood, stock still then seemed to blur and raced off into an apparent branch.
Gill said, "I'll go, you stay with Minetti. There's police business here."
"Be careful."
"Always."
Conner grinned. He didn't doubt her. But his focus was the doctor and finding Merry's killers. He walked back to the car and resumed the surveillance.
***
Gill searched her memories methodically. Yes, almost a year ago, several overlapping reports about a tall man of Goth appearance involved in a series of deaths on the edge of the Valley precinct. A couple of drug dealers and a local enforcer mysteriously killed for no apparent reason. But each time witnesses had commented on seeing a tall, thin man with long dark hair and cavernous features sprinting away from the scenes. It stuck in Gill's memory because of the method; crushed sternums and shredded hearts; as though someone had hit each victim with a sledge hammer.
Damn, she'd lost him. After another branching alley she found herself in a dead-end and he was gone. She turned and jogged to the last intersection taking the opposite tack and was suddenly in a long service yard sporadically lit with pools of dirty yellow light. At the end of which stood a study in absolute horror.
A woman was devouring something... human. At least it had been. The head was almost off. As Gill's gorge threatened to embarrass her, the woman threw the body aside and raced out of sight. Gill hesitated and in that few seconds her original quarry arrived seeming to drop off a nearby roof. He walked briskly to the body, knelt and appeared to sniff it, then stood and stared directly at her.
Gill marched forward stopping a few metres from the body, which separated her from the man. The tall, thin impossibly beautiful man with magnificent hair, a nose to die for and eyes as black as midnight.
Amicus inhaled slowly. Little or no fear in this one; interesting. As pale as he was dark there was a certain elegance to her and she had moved very well; light-footed.
"You'll need to come to the station and make a statement, Mr ...?"
Amicus knew he had only a few moments at best to waste here but decided to invest in this unusual human. A test, then.
To Gill, he was there in front of her and then a blur remembered, suddenly beside and slightly behind, purring into her right ear, "I don't think so."
Amicus inhaled deeply and read the woman closely. A tiny squirt of adrenalin, followed by the almost instant pineal surge, a microscopic full body tremor in response and then a sudden lowering of body temperature as she seemed to release and relax. He could see her shoulders slide down and back. She was ready to fight, but had no weapons that could work against him. Intriguing.
The shock was fleeting as Gill realised her predicament. This guy had style and the upper hand. So, a mind game then.
"You can't help your friend if the police are after you as well."
Intuitive leap based on physical similarities. Good, very good.
"The kind of help she needs, only I can give it. And your people can't catch her; only kill, if they're lucky."
Amicus strolled around to face Gill. And then continued to circle her. She watched him move and he detected a tiny whiff of ... desire, quickly suppressed. In the middle of a contest that could take her life she was aroused. But still in control. What a strange mixture of attributes. For a human she did have a certain grace. Amicus caught himself; he did not have time for this.
"I must resume the hunt, officer ..."
"Benson. Call me Gill ..."
"Amicus. Consider me a source, Gill. And we'll explore our d\u00e9tente. I can be reached at the Black Rose if you need to talk."
Gill drew breath to argue but realised that he had gone. A flutter of his long coat as he whisked away. She flexed her neck and let the shock ripple through her body. How can he move so fast? Correction, they ... Oh shit, there's a bunch of them.
***
Conner was not happy.
Minetti had finally left his house of pain five minutes after Gill had gone, so he had followed as the professor wandered aimlessly for another ten minutes until apparently on a whim he had hailed a taxi and left for his home. Back at the car Conner used its customised control panel to hack into the taxi company's computer and tag the doctor's ride. If there were any departures he would know.
Now he had to wait for Gill to return. And think.
While following Minetti he had sensed other watchers. Only when the taxi was on its way did he get a reasonable glimpse of who they might be. All men; tall and thin, various clothing styles with a vehicle back-up that in hindsight had been circling the area for some time. Here in this city's red light district there was a lot of that sort of thing so spotting a ringer was not easy. Were they minders or something more sinister; Merry's assassins. The complications were becoming tiresome. He left the car and walked. Gill had his mobile phone number so ... time to muse and see if his subconscious could fuse the pieces of this puzzle together.
He wandered through the brighter parts down the long slope of the area into an industrial zone - an odd combination of semi-derelict workshops and newly gentrified lofts and boutiques. Annoyed that nothing had risen up from his ponderings Conner spun on his heel and turned to retrace his steps to the car.
In a split second he saw the situation and shouted a warning; a hard commanding bark that froze both victim and predator. The young woman looked up from what had been an inebriated totter, saw her predicament and ran like a greyhound back down the street.
The other ... woman, Conner now realised, glanced after her intended victim, arm still raised, then turned her head slowly to sight Conner lowering the offending arm. And ran. Straight for him. At ridiculous speed, covering sixty metres in seconds.
Conner took all this in as a cold flush washed through him. He invoked his personal trigger, umbigumto - do you understand? Yes, he did, and moved accordingly.
Ventora was pleased. The man offered much more blood and had a fresh, delightful scent unlike the drunken morsel that had fled. Her arm shot out to take him by the throat. But he was gone. Stepped left outside her arm and now ... pain.
Conner recoiled from the double handed palm strike and took a further step out of range. The thrust had sent her staggering but only a few paces. Not the expected result.
Up close she was quite something. Tall, narrow in every sense of the word, almost canine facial features and long dark hair pulled severely back. Nondescript but functional dark clothing. Long finger nails. And fangs!
She growled.
And sprang at him. Up and over. Arms and legs wide to block any escape.
He waited till she was only centimetres away and then thrust himself back and down bringing his long legs up in a tuck and then explosively extending upwards as he used his arms in the traditional break-fall. Ninety kilos of body weight arched into the descending woman's sternum and she flipped backwards in mid flight with a pronounced whoosh of lost breath. She landed badly but rolled away and stood smoothly.
Conner piked and then sprang from his shoulders, upright also.
Her voice was like polished leather as she massaged her chest, "Interesting specimen you are. But I do not have time. And killing you would be a waste. I have your scent, delicious man."
She turned and ran in the same half step taking two quick paces and then leaping impossibly high; five, six metres up to an adjacent roof.
Conner gaped, swallowed then followed her just making the parapet and pulling himself over gingerly. The woman was a long way off and dropping over another edge. She was gone.
He sat on the wall coping and breathed deeply. Damn, that was weird. His mobile was out and he dialled a very special number. When that conversation was over he pocketed the phone and slipped off the edge to land in a deep crouch below. Quickly he began the walk back to the car and Gill. She wasn't going to believe this!
***
Gill woke groggy, kicking the covers off and pulling a muscle in her hip for good measure. She swore at great length; that usually helped. Then looked at the clock and swore some more. She was late.
Returning to the car last night she had found Conner doing the same but before they could exchange stories he had received an emergency call from his embassy and she had ferried him there in very short order, taking her frustration out on the traffic. She told him briefly about the murder and they had agreed to meet this morning for breakfast and catch up.
A short workout with the punching bag, shower and toast all took half an hour and she was on her way checking phone mail as she wove through the late peak hour press. One text from Conner slowed her down. He was 'in conference' till ten. Oh well, time to do some chores at the office. She cut across two lanes to take an exit, the screech of tyres behind providing a satisfying chorus to her morning.
***
The coffee was exquisite. Conner sipped slowly allowing the caffeine to do its work. He needed to be sharp for a few more hours. The all-night session with MI-6 had been gruelling not the least because he had been dealing with idiots. Finally, his insistence on the unlikeliness of Meredith Galvin's death and those of her colleagues had registered with the security service and they had started an investigation. But their ideas of subtlety were laughable. Still ... some useful information had come forward. He would try and enlist his own people again, now that there was more concrete data to go on. A case in point having now walked through to this very private lounge. Conner rose and bowed.
His visitor spoke in ancient Gaelic, "Please, Battle Master, no formality today. There is much to discuss, Conner."
"As you wish Honoured One ... P\u00e1draic." Conner sat with casual elegance.
The other man did the same. "So, you were right after all."
A good beginning.
"Yes. But point scoring is irrelevant. Can WE act?"
The question hung.
"Yes, I think we can. Carefully, of course."
"Of course. May I suggest an initial strategy? Intelligence has come my way which suggests as much."
"Please ..."
"MI-6 has uncovered information that suggests a consortium of rogue Chinese and Pakistani scientists is bankrolling a human clone project based in South Yemen. There's a fully equipped facility at Shaykh Uthman concealed within one of the industrial sukhs. They have been aggressively but very quietly buying up all of the available expertise. It would seem that anything they don't or can't own starts having accidents. Dr Minetti could be next on that list."
P\u00e1draic held up a hand and Conner stopped. "What you received last night we have had for several days. There is agreement that this development should be monitored. And action has been taken. Dr Galvin's contribution to our cause will not be forgotten."
A very good start.
"Thank you."
"Your son from her shows great promise. We do not forget."
"She never quite forgave me for that ..."
"She was not one of us, Conner, despite her bloodline. She could never fully understand the Program."
"No, but she stuck to her word. I had hopes that one day she and the boy would meet. But that's not going to happen now."
"No. I sense, however, that you have other news."
Conner smiled. Read like a book, as usual.
"Last night I fought a woman who was more than a match for me; a woman who apparently dines on human blood."
P\u00e1draic's eyebrows rose. Not so good a sign. An Elder was rarely surprised. Conner waited.
"The vampire legend predates even Count Drac but only in the last few centuries has it acquired any real substance. Our archives suggest there is a group of acolytes who have mastered several drug therapies that provide temporary enhancement. Individual practitioners do not seem to last very long."
"Are they significant?"
"No. An oddity only. Were you damaged?"
"No. Surprised, but no damage. Next time however, could be different. She was formidable."
"Indeed. I'll have a team here within forty eight hours. We have an opportunity to capture one of these fools for study. In the meantime, be careful. You are an invaluable asset, Conner. Your work with NATO has placed you higher than any agent thus far. That sort of access has eluded us for some time. You could also be the youngest Elder since Spinozza."
"That didn't do him a fat lot of good," shot back Conner before he could help himself. "We have had this conversation before ... father."
"Yes. And we'll have it again and again until you accept your responsibilities. Do I have to bore us both with a lecture on Druidic heritage? Do I have to remind you of the consequences of discovery of our Circle?"
Conner grinned, "No."
P\u00e1driac also smiled.
Grimly, Conner said, "The weight of thousands of years of secrets occasionally becomes irksome, father. But only occasionally. A few hours sleep and I'll be myself again."
"Good." P\u00e1driac stood, gracefully, without effort or warning. "I have to return to Tokyo this afternoon. Get some sleep ... son. I'll expect to see you at the All Hallows Gathering next month. We can talk at length then. Agreed?"
"Done."
Conner watched his father leave. No preamble, no platitudes. Just leave. Biological father, he reminded himself. The men who had raised him had been much more considerate, but it had been their jobs to do so. He wondered if his own children would carry some of this bitterness. He hoped not; which was why he made the effort to visit each of them on a regular basis. My, wasn't this getting depressing. That strange woman had really gotten under his skin.
Speaking of strange women ... he was due to meet Gill ... when? ... now. Damn, late again.
***
Brunch was delicious. Gill indulged herself. Conner seemed distracted, tired, and was only picking at the food. Their table at South Bank overlooked the river and the weather was perfect, of course. But now, to business.
"You won't believe ..." they both began.
Conner raised his eyebrows and Gill grinned.
"Ladies first."
"OK." Briefly, she told her story. "I swear on my mother's eyes, he moved faster than I could follow. And I'm no slouch."
"Two of them, maybe more. Only mine's female. A rogue it would seem, if your gent is to be believed."
"This isn't the first time. I spoke to a few old hands this morning. Seems others have seen what we saw. But nothings on paper. At least, not recently. I have a friend in Archives who does me the occasional favour. She found paper records from the fifties that match. A short period of a few weeks where there was a spate of graphic kills, a lot of blood missing and witnesses who reckoned they saw superman. Then nothing."
"Fits my information. Occasional, sporadic. Like someone got out of control and then ... what? Died, captured?"
Gill finished her salad.
"What's the Black Rose?" asked Conner.
"A club, sort of. Bistro, nightclub, drop-in joint. For Goths. It reinvents itself every few years but always for the Dark Romantics. Been an institution for about twenty five years far as I can tell."
"Are you going .. tonight?"
"Of course. Care to join me?"
"Does the sun shine? But I need sleep so why don't you pick me up at my place around eight and we'll go together."
"Done. But make it eleven. Nothing happens before twelve. Sweet dreams, Conner."
"Not likely. That woman had fangs."
***
Paternoster reclined in his specially made chair, mulling the events of the last few days and the most recent surveillance information. This, his most private place was ensconced in the centre of the topmost floor of the building they owned as headquarters in this remote city.
The basement held the Black Rose nightclub.
Paternoster's aerie was windowless despite its height. Circular, it was walled in dozens of screens and roofed with a three dimensional holofield that could project just about anything. More importantly it allowed for olfactory enhancement which supplemented anything visual. All controlled from his chair.
The lighting level generally and on the screens specifically was unusually low to human eyes.
Soon, I will go home, he mused. Until the last few months he had kept the longing at bay. But, now, this close ... childish desperation intruded. He inhaled deeply from the astringent crystal in his hand and re-established mental control.
This present and his last Hunt had occupied nearly twenty years and was the key to their sojourn amongst humanity. It filled him with pride that Amicus, his prot\u00e9g\u00e9 would move forward from this nexus to attain the goal planned so long ago. This accidental discovery that had offered them such a huge chance of survival. He regarded his outstretched hand and its exposed skin. He would normally expect to see pale fur where now was almost obscene hide. The chemicals he took weekly held back growth; and other things. It was fitting, he mused, that those of his race who had discovered this planet came from the Pack to which he belonged. The Council of Mothers had decreed it so despite the pressures of politics. We are known for our subtlety after all, he reminded himself; the Jagged Tree Clan of the Vulpan; eccentrics, explorers and now saviours of our star spanning race.
So many coincidences had collided on this incredibly rich world. Thank the Mothers it was so isolated; a delicious secret. His forebears had been chasing a comet, partly out of curiosity and idle play and partly to assess its resource value when the trail had lead here nearly five hundred years ago. Intrigued they had landed and explored. Within days they realised what humanity represented and set about the intensive study necessary to convince others. The Vulpan had, only a few generations prior to discovering Earth, been subjected to the hostility of two galactic predators. Their home world had remained hidden but half their colonies had been ravaged and only desperate measures and millions of lives spent had blunted the ferocity of their enemies.
The resulting self-analysis had been brutal but effective.
The Vulpan needed protectors. But where to find them without becoming enslaved. Plans within plans within plans had been developed and all those who travelled off world were alert for possible solutions. Schemes which still continued but the most effort had been expended here and now they were close to success.
I have had an interesting life, Paternoster told himself with a wolfish grin. And Amicus will have the same if not better. If he can control his fascination with the human female. She was attractive in a Vulpanesque sort of way, Paternoster admitted to himself. He took another sniff of his crystal and exhaled languidly.
He rose from his chair and approached a nearby panel which parted silently and allowed him access to the rest of the floor. His fluid, loping stride took him to the full height glass on the western perimeter of the building and its panoramic view of the leafy suburbs beyond.
It pleased him to watch this young sun set through the specially tinted windows.
So much light. At his home on the Place-of-Shadows he would never had dared this. His own sun melted any metal exposed to it for more than a few hours.
The elevator pinged and Amicus entered and approached his mentor.
"Teacher."
"Amicus."
"A glorious view, no?"
"Always. What have you learned from our brothers in Yemen?"
"As you suspected the cartel has been funding Minetti and eliminating the competition. The doctor's watchers are in fact a security detail hired by his employers. While they have done us a favour of sorts their aggressive methods are causing problems. And they now believe they are close to having a viable operation and will begin marketing it to the human elites within months."
"Unfortunate."
"Indeed. I have also spoken to Silvani in London. The Circle are mobilising to assist Brevington. Their scrutiny might be inconvenient if we don't act."
"Agreed. I have a suggestion."
"Yes."
"Your interest in the female..."
"Gill"
"Yes. And the dissatisfaction of Conner Brevington with his superiors..."
"Ah ... you wish to recruit them?"
Brilliant child! I am indeed, proud ... "Perhaps. I would value your opinion."
Amicus turned and paced in a short circle, his complex mind reviewing and weighing risks; considering his own ambition and desires and the absolute need to succeed. Paternoster inhaled; marvelling in the sensory delight of the young genius he had recruited so long ago. He waited patiently.
Amicus returned to the spot he had started from. "There are no certainties but of all the humans I have come to know in the last century, these two are exceptional. Gill is an outcast; too sharp and intelligent for anyone in her sphere. Silvani has shown me Conner's file. He is the same and does not appreciate the level of manipulation to which he is subject. I believe we can proceed."
"Done."
***
Dress to impress, certainly. But this was ridiculous. Conner grinned despite himself.
Gill was decked out exclusively in white leather. Boots and skin tight pants, camisole top and lightweight knee length coat. With her natural colouring she looked like the Snow Queen come to life. The only contrast was a blood red stone at her throat in a black silk choker.
"You like," she said pirouetting. "The boots are a bugger. It took me six months to learn to fight in them."
"We're not trying to be inconspicuous then?"
"No way. Blow their dainty little fishnet socks off and then wait for the dark lord to show; that's my strategy. You seem to be thinking the same in that get-up. You look like some sort of trendy priest."
Conner looked down at his suit concealing a fleeting smile. Yes, the cut was somewhat liturgical. But this was battledress. There was enough Kevlar to stop a knife. And hopefully the high collar would blunt even fangs. The tailored cut also concealed a fair number of small but deadly weapons. No chances taken; at least, not till his team showed up. Then we'd see.
***
Gill's strategy had worked - sort of. They certainly made quite a scene when they arrived. But two tall, slender men had ushered them straight in to a VIP area stealing a bit of Gill's thunder.
Amicus was waiting. With another. The older man had an air of authority that Conner recognised immediately. He was reminded of his father and the other Elders of the Circle.
Gill began to make introductions but the other man spoke quietly, interrupting her patois.
In Gaelic he said, "We know you, warrior. And the Order of the Circle. Small talk is pointless. I observed your meeting with our pack mate, Ventora. State your purpose."
As Conner considered his options, Amicus extended an elegant arm and led Gill to a lounge area and offered her a seat. Conner glanced back at his interrogator.
"Paternoster, am I called. I lead here. Perhaps some history is in order to break the ice. We are aware of your father's investigations and his intention to capture one of us for study. That will not be permitted. However, you do not give up easily and hiding from you further is wasteful of our resources. I am prepared to offer a truce of sorts between the Circle and the Vulpan."
"Vulpan; the foxes - that's eloquent. Unlike your drug therapies which ..."
Paternoster moved; a blur, and was behind Conner before he had half turned.
"We are not some short lived cult, Conner Brevington. I have walked this planet for nearly two centuries and can move like that at will. Only when I leave your world will my so-called powers be diminished .. because your gravity is less than ours."
"My world ... you're kidding. No." Conner's mind raced. It might be true. "Did you kill Meredith Galvin?" he asked staring directly into Paternoster's eyes.
"No. Your good doctor and her colleagues were assassinated by the cartel funding Minetti. They want all the profits from that research. 'Their way or no way', I believe you might put it."
Conner felt a sense of conviction as the man ... creature spoke. By the Goddess and little green apples, I'm in it up to my chin, now, he reflected
"So, what's your world called?"
***
"Umbracos."
"Land of Shadow. That makes a weird sort of sense. Show me the gadget again, please."
Amicus removed the holographic projector from the fold in his jacket pursuing Paternoster's somewhat dramatic stratagem with these two unusual humans. Make them our lieutenants he had said. Set the stage for eventual Vulpan revelation with these emissaries.
'He', a soldier of the oldest secret society on this world.
The Druids may have consolidated their identity in Northern Europe with the ancient Celtic migrations but their geomantic underpinnings were a universal language and since the fall of their last High King an eon ago they had encircled the Earth with their hidden influence and extraordinary abilities. Abilities that Vulpan science could enhance.
And the 'she'. Gill. What A truly strange female. With time to indulge, Amicus now allowed himself the oddly vicarious pleasure of getting to know her. Something he could never do with a female of his own species. Despite the necessary presence of female agents here on Earth, there numbers were few and they mixed reluctantly with their brothers. To have a willing female compatriot was almost deviant in his segregated society. But his time on Earth had shown him a different way and he craved this contradiction with an increasing desperation. She was physically attractive to him despite the lack of fur but her mind was what he really desired; to discuss for days the possibilities of this scheme or that option ... he calmed himself with a slow drawn breath and leaned a little closer revelling in the scent of her.
Gill used the small devise as a diversion. Appearing to examine the projector and its perfect illusion, her mind raced.
Aliens. Fucking ET's. How freakin' weird was this. No way was this a con. Intuition told her it was real. More importantly the logic of it played out. Logic; her father's gift. Think straight; feel true. And her mother's gifts, well, they were more physical, more passionate; a Viking heritage. She carried her mother's given name after all. Despite their gifts they were both children of the sixties and given to whimsical indulgence occasionally.
Now, though; how to deal with this beautiful man. He seemed intensely interested in her. It was ... personal. Sensual but not sexual. How the hell did that work. I wonder what he can teach me ...
***
"Why vampires?"
"A convenient coincidence," replied Paternoster.
"We realised that with only minor modification we could affect the appearance of the legend. And it was as close as we could get to a human 'look'. Unfortunately our pronounced canine teeth refuse to retract. And your sunlight is anathema. At least for more than a few minutes. The pre-existing sub-culture was also advantageous and widespread."
"And the bloody diet?"
"Ah ... that. Yes. We do like our food live. But the substitutes are adequate. Unfortunately, there are those, mostly females, who suffer trauma from the lack of natural food. We deal with the consequences as best we can."
Conner was both exited and conflicted. "I cannot speak for the Elders. They may be defensive. Particularly when they realise you've monitored them for centuries."
"Then keep this knowledge to yourself until you are an Elder. Then ..."
"A strategic revelation. Perhaps ... I will do nothing for the moment. I can give you that assurance. But I will find those who killed Merry. Will you help me?"
Paternoster considered. The Druid was very good. He had bargained well. And realised he was not being indulged. Knew that he was needed and therefore had leverage. A worthy associate.
"Your Dr Minetti is being watched by several interesting parties. We have not penetrated them yet. Perhaps it is time we did. Will you participate?"
"Yes."
***
Conner's phone rang as he and Gill were leaving the club. He listened intently for half a minute then rang off.
"The embassy people have been following Minetti and he's gone back to the brothel. I'm going to take him in for questioning. Will you back me up?"
"No problem. So long as you stay out of the embassy. I'm not getting involved in any bloody, diplomatic immunity bullshit. We can use my place to question him. OK?"
"Done."
***
Minetti's session had been short and they did not have long to wait. The doctor tried to keep to the shadows but Conner and Gill cut him off in a small; shadow dappled car park fifty metres from the brothel.
Unfortunately, they were not alone. Ventora exploded from the darkness and was upon Gill in a single heartbeat. Her arm swung casually to knock the human woman aside as she bore down on Conner.
Gill reacted without thought, going with the blow, locking the arm up and dropping her body weight straight down. She had the satisfaction of seeing the other woman sailing over her head and then she released the hold and sprang upright. Unfortunately, instead of the expected crash landing her victim spun impossibly fast and planted her feet straight down, spoiling the moment entirely.
"Shit," said Gill. Ventora growled and tensed to spring again.
"Hold fast," said Paternoster, as he dropped from a nearby roof.
Minetti fled.
Amicus stepped into view and barked something guttural at his female compatriot. She turned to him and then spun again hitting Paternoster with a small ball she had concealed in her hand. There was a flash of blue light and the Vulpan leader trembled violently then pitched forward.
The growl did not come from Ventora this time. And this time it was full throated. The vibrations sent shivers up and down Gill's spine. Amicus surged at Ventora, a blur of motion. She backed up defending herself against a savagery that Conner had never imagined possible. Amicus was a windmill of claws, kicks and guttural mutterings that could not have been polite conversation in any language. Ventora tried to counterattack but the male caught her on the side and she faltered. It was the opening Amicus needed and he landed three lightning fast blows, which sent her to the ground.
Conner and Gill were just catching their collective breaths when suddenly they were surrounded. A dozen tall, thin men seemed to appear out of nowhere. Several assisted Paternoster. Still others began to lift Ventora and apply shackles of some bizarre buzzing type.
She made a strange plaintive sound and Amicus approached her. They spoke in the guttural, almost barking language Amicus had used when he attacked. Then he turned away and approached the humans.
His hair was awry which Gill thought looked rather sexy. The expression on his face, however, was grave. "We have secured the other watchers, your embassy people included, Conner. And the doctor is safe. Leave now. We will be in touch."
"What did she say?" asked Gill.
"She wants him," he replied, nodding at Conner. "Says he smells delicious."
Gill giggled. Conner kept his composure - just.
"She will be returned to Umbracos where rehabilitation can begin. For attacking Paternoster there will be sanctions. She may not breed for some time."
"Hardly a suitable punishment ..." said Gill with a little venom.
Amicus turned to her. "For a Vulpan female, it's akin to leprosy on your world. She will suffer for her loss of control. Now go. We have much to do."
Gill and Conner glanced at each other; she nodded and turned away. Conner stared hard at the other... man; male.
"Secrets have a way of festering if they're held too close, too long," he said, quietly. "My patience has a price." Then he too turned and walked away.
***
The laboratory was ingeniously hidden. By human standards, Amicus reminded himself. The recently unconscious Dr Minetti lay nearby, as did the permanently unconscious body of the man who would be blamed for the doctor's imminent demise. One Anton Frobisher, radical Christian fundamentalist violently opposed to any and all genetic research - a convenient dupe whose death would deflect suspicion from Conner, at least. Minetti's backers, the Chinese cartel, would be annoyed but they would soon have other distractions, such as the immolation of their facilities in Yemen.
During that confusion they would provide Conner with his friend's executioners, both actual and those who ordered the killing. It would give him some closure and hopefully cement the bond established by Paternoster.
As he set the small bomb that would obliterate the knowledge contained here Amicus marvelled once again at the speed of human achievement. Here, alone, he could admit the unspoken fact that all the Hunters lived with.
They were afraid of the humans.
Their short lives were expended at such a frantic pace yet they achieved so much, so quickly, so violently. Hardly half a century had passed since they had imagined out the cellular puzzle; DNA. And now they were on the verge of cloning themselves. Barely two generations was all it had taken them. They improvised in ways that other species could not even dream of. The Vulpan had this technology already; much advanced and very sophisticated, but it had taken centuries to develop. Soon it would be offered as bait. In the meantime humanity must be prevented from achieving it themselves.
Which made his task the single most important security operation in Vulpan history: to bond the Human race. Make them into the shock troops of the Umbracan Federation; a shield against the savage predators who had almost destroyed his people too many times to remember. Despite their comparative limitations, humans had an imaginatively driven ferocity that was truly chilling. With the right motivation and a few enhanced tools ... Amicus shivered. This was why he wanted the human race on a very short leash; his leash.
And only a single generation to achieve it. If he was just a little lucky, he would share the task with Gill. Once he had shown her how to live longer. And enhanced her sense of smell ... there was so much to share.
To work then. He set the bomb for sixty seconds and turned to leave.
***
The Black Rose was quiet tonight so the barman was thinking about closing early. As he started towards the register to count the take, the front door opened smoothly.
Gill had shed her white leather; it chafed anyway, and opted for a more tailored pants suite and flat practical shoes. She caught the barman's eye, the black on black eye attached to a tall, thin body and long straight hair.
She nodded.
He grinned and reached under the bar rim for the sensor that would summon Amicus.