Black And Blue (Quentin Black Mystery #5) (26 page)

When Black looked over, frowning, the man tilted his head in a kind of apology.

“...Of course, despite your race’s physiological resilience, the procedure is still not pleasant. I’ve been told the first time, especially, is quite... uncomfortable... for those of your race. But after that, you should develop a kind of immunity to any further tests that might be conducted.” That overdone, wolf-like smile flashed on his angular face. “Sort of like how your kind doesn’t really scar, I suppose. The pain of harm is no less, but unlike your more fragile human cousins, you recover in full, with few to no residual effects. In the end, it is almost as if the terrible thing that happened to you never occurred at all...”

Black didn’t comment to that, either.

Staring off to the side, he once more waited out the silence. Clearly this male, whatever he was, couldn’t remain silent for long.

Even as he thought it, the man on the other side of the glass tilted his head, watching Black’s face with that strange curiosity in his eyes.

“In any case, Quentin,” he said, smiling wider when Black frowned. “We require one of your race for other reasons, apart from your mere ability to survive. No human will have your photographic memory, or your ability to recall everything you hear word for word... particularly under the influence of heavy narcotics. We require your eyes and ears, initially. One, to assist us in finding the facility, since the lab transports their test subjects in the back of vans, hooded and often drugged, and makes it very difficult to trace their movements. Two, once you are inside, we require you to tell us every pertinent detail you can glean of the facility itself... security measures, layout of the premises, number of scientists, guards and other staff employed, weapons they carry, pass cards, biological scanners... etc., etc., and so forth. You know the drill, so I won’t insult you by laying it out in all the particulars.”

Smiling again, the man rubbed a thigh with one hand.

“In short, approach this facility as if you intended to breach it yourself... remembering, of course, that our success in this venture determines the likelihood of you and your wife enjoying long, happy lives and conjugal bliss... as well as, very likely, your future freedom from this institution in which you’ve found yourself.”

Smiling, he once more rearranged his weight on the metal chair, his hands still folded neatly over his elegantly crossed legs. Black noted the rings he wore, a brushed steel one in particular, that was inscribed in a language he didn’t recognize.

“What do you think?” The scarlet-eyed man smiled, watching him expectantly. “Sound exciting? I admit, I am finding this whole experience quite a nail-biter, myself. But then, I’ve never had one of you under my direct power before. I’m finding the process... exhilarating... I must say.”

Black turned, staring at him.

“You are quite beautiful, even for one of them,” he remarked, that shrewder look in his eyes. “I should have come to see you before I let those animals have their way with you.” He smiled again, shaking his head. “Well. I will have to content myself with photos until we meet again. I hope very much your health will have improved in the meantime.”

He rose to his feet, moving as fluidly as a seer moves, but again, Black found himself certain the creature wasn’t seer.

More disturbingly still, he was even more convinced it wasn’t human.

“What the fuck are you?” he blurted.

He followed the creature’s movements as it spun gracefully on one heel to face him, unable to look away, even when the other man caught him staring. The man let him look, standing there as Black remained seated.

“All in good time, Mr. Black,” he said, smiling. “I suspect you will have your own theories, the next time we cross paths. In the meantime, please do take care of yourself. I will assuredly keep those animals in solitary for as long as I can manage, but there’s only so much I can do on the outside. Prison has its own rules, as I’m sure you’re aware.”

Black grunted, clicking under his breath in spite of himself. When the creature raised an eyebrow, Black raised his jaw, fingering the collar.

“‘Staying safe’ might be difficult, when your people can knock me unconscious whenever the fuck they feel like it,” he growled.

The man smiled. “Already taken care of,” he said, making a dismissive wave. “The regular settings to the collar have been restored in full. It still won’t permit you to use your seer’s sight of course... we can’t have lovely Miriam visiting us prematurely, after all... but the guards no longer have the ability to activate it remotely. Feel free to defend yourself as you think best. We won’t interfere.”

“How kind of you,” Black muttered.

The other flashed a quick smile, but otherwise didn’t acknowledge his words.

“We have informed the lab of your interest in their fine program already,” he added, his voice back to lilting and friendly. “They are aware that you have some... health issues... at the moment, and have opted to wait for you to recover fully before they start you on their unique treatment plan. Which should work well for all concerned, I believe. While time is certainly of the essence, I’d prefer you to be in tip-top shape, Mr. Black, or as close to that as can be managed, before we send you on your very important mission. In that vein, I have taken the liberty of scheduling you to visit the infirmary when we’ve concluded here, where carefully chosen medical personnel will help you tend to the worst of your injuries.”

Black stared at the creature, silent, studying him as the other man waited, as if politely giving him the opportunity to ask him anything else. Black had already memorized the other male’s physical appearance in every conceivable detail, but he still felt crippled without his sight. He wanted to see this fucker’s light.

He wanted to imprint on it like a motherfuck.
 

But that would have to wait, too.

He didn’t speak until the other turned to leave.

“Your name,” Black said. His voice caused the creature to turn, looking down at him with an arched eyebrow. “What is it?”

The man smiled, as if delighted to be asked.

“Brick,” he said, his voice carrying a hint of that delight. “My name is Brick, Mr. Black. And I simply cannot convey how pleased I am to make your acquaintance.”

Fourteen

YOU ALREADY KNOW WHAT THEY ARE

I STARED ACROSS a polished wood conference table at an African-American man who had to be in his early eighties. He still had most of his hair. His eyes watched my face with a sharpness that might have been unnerving if I couldn’t feel the emotions emanating off him.

It was early––just after five o’clock in the morning.

It was the second meeting between the Colonel and I, and unlike the first one, I’d called it. It also had a decidedly different tone.

In the first meeting between us, I’d been introduced as Black’s employee, and we’d mostly talked about the details around Black’s disappearance at the Port. He’d treated me with professional distance and respect, and I’d done the same, laying out the details of that night with all the emotion of a highly-paid personal assistant.

In the second meeting––this one––which was taking place two weeks and three days after the first, I’d interrupted Kiko’s opening remarks to introduce myself to Colonel Holmes as Black’s wife.

It was pretty much a show-stopper.

Kiko and Dex had looked as shocked as this man had.

Truthfully, before my uncle’s remarks outside the police station and now this confession in front of Holmes, I’d thought they knew. Black had told me they ribbed him mercilessly about my being identified as “Mrs. Black” by the hospital staff after he’d been shot. I’d assumed they were teasing him about being married... but had he told them the hospital made a mistake? If so,
why
had he told them that? Because of me? Because he thought that’s what
I
wanted?

The question bothered me.

I knew it was hardly the relevant thing right then, but I found myself thinking back on our conversation before dinner that night, wishing I’d asked him a few more pointed questions after he’d offered to answer them. I also wished I’d said a few things myself, particularly when he made that crack about me having commitment issues.

I felt an additional twinge of guilt in depriving him the opportunity to tell his friends about us himself, but I needed them to trust me. To that end, I was willing to use anything I had.

My words had the desired effect.

The meeting changed tone significantly after my “confession.” Right after I’d said it, I asked Kiko and Dex to let us continue the meeting in private and wait for us outside. I felt that intrigue the Colonel, as well. I also felt his approval, and the cloud of wariness and curiosity that came off his light as soon as they left the room.

Now, he was interested in me because of Black.

He also distrusted and worried about me because of Black.

He watched me closely, trying to assess my character, my trustworthiness, because of Black, trying to decide if what I’d told him could be true, in spite of what he remembered about Black himself. He reasoned Black may have changed. He also noted there was
something
about me and the way I spoke to him, something that made my story strangely more plausible.

The Colonel sighed while I watched, anger emanating off him in a cloud as he rubbed the bridge of his nose with two fingers. His dark grey, tightly-woven curls had been trimmed down to a fraction of an inch all over his head, but he scrubbed his scalp with his fingers as if it felt longer to him. He sat, moved, and talked like career military, which I knew he was.

Colonel Harrison Hamilton Holmes the Third, decorated officer first in Vietnam and later in Afghanistan and Iraq, was trying to decide if he could trust me.

He also harbored a deep curiosity about me, and who I was.

His brown eyes sharpened on mine even now, openly probing my face.
 

“So now you’re telling me that Lucky Lucifer,” he began deliberately, a southern accent lilting his words. “The
same
Lucky Lucifer Black and I hunted back in ‘Nam... who worked for
Spetsnaz
back then... is not only alive and well, but is somehow connected to all this?” His voice held disbelief, but even more anger. “And even though Lucky hates humans, and even though Black and I spent
years
trying to track him and bring him in, he’s willing to help us out because he was a close friend of your now-deceased father’s? Did I get that right?”

“Yes,” I said simply.

“Did Black know about this? About your tangential link to Lucky?”

“Yes,” I said again.

I’d left out the “uncle” part.

The Colonel exhaled again, not hiding his frustration. “Lucky and these people who took Black... they’ve got some kind of grudge against one another? Combined with a business rivalry? Is that the issue? And they took Black to lean on Lucky?”

I nodded. I admit, I was a little impatient with the rehash at this point.

“Yes,” I said. “Well... maybe.”

“And you’re
that
close to Lucky, that this other group thought taking one of his old enemies would actually put pressure on Lucifer... just because Black’s your husband?”

I lifted a hand from the table and let it fall. “They also likely know what Black is. There’s a good chance this has more to do with that.”

“Are these people like Black and Lucky?”

I shook my head, again biting back impatience. “No. I told you that.”

“So they’re just humans? Like you and me?”