Ghost Soldiers (8 page)

So the question remained: what was she going to do about it?

Chapter Eight: Respects

Maria stood as close to her father's grave as she dared. She'd brought Xiesha for bodyguard duty, snagged her Glock 9mm and headed here shortly after sunset, hoping to find some relief or at least distraction from all the turmoil and worries churning in her mind. Xiesha stood guard a few feet off, her twelve gauge hidden beneath a long overcoat and her head turning as she continually scanned for threats.

Maria's father, Alberto Ricardi, was buried at St. Joseph's Cemetery beneath a black marble headstone showing his name and the dates of his birth and death. His funeral had been held in the daylight, so she'd missed it. Still, she'd paid her respects many times since then. She'd watched him die, unable to save him. In fact, God forgive her, she'd helped lure him to his death at the command of her former master, Delgado.

It hurt to be here, hurt in so many ways. The cemetery grounds had been consecrated, but long ago, and the power of the holy rites had faded over time. Even so, she couldn't stand too close to the actual gravesite, and every time she hopped the low stone wall and entered the grounds, it felt more like she was smashing through a plate-glass window. The crosses and stars of David glowed with a faint blue-white shimmer, painful, but dim enough that they didn't drive her away, though she avoided walking too close. Every step brought more pain, burning as if she trod on hot coals. She could tolerate it, and she did. If Karl could endure the pain to pray for the people he killed, then she could endure it to pay respects to her father, because when had penance ever been pleasant?

She squatted and brushed her fingers over the blades of grass as she stared at his stone. Once, when she'd been, what? Eight? Nine? He'd taken her to the Museum of Science to see a Dinosaurs of the Gobi exhibit—just her, not her brother Paul, who'd been so pissed he'd given her an Indian burn later when they'd been alone. But ah, how she'd loved walking beside her father and looking at all the displays. He'd bought her anything she'd wanted from the gift store, but she hadn't cared about that. All she'd cared about was holding his hand and laughing whenever he'd told her he was going to steal one of those dinosaur bones and give it to her dog.

What would he think of her now? What would he think, with the FBI closing in and the Commission unhappy? She shook her head. What would he think of her and Karl together? In her mind she could see the disapproval on his face. She'd always known he'd have preferred her married off to someone out of the life, squeezing out little grandkids for him to spoil rotten. She'd fought so hard against that…but where would she be now if she'd been less determined, less…headstrong?

“Thorn knights,” Xiesha whispered, moving close to her and clearing her shotgun from beneath her coat.

Maria stood, locking in on the sound of soft footsteps. Her hand slipped behind her back and settled on her pistol's grip. A woman moved toward her, walking with purposeful strides as if she had every right to be here after dark. She wore body armor over silvered chain mail, a sheathed sword on one hip, a large caliber pistol on the other. Her surcoat was black, with the brilliant splash of a white rose on the front, curling around a stem of dagger thorns. Long hair, streaked with gray at the temples. Black gauntlets with softly glowing silver crosses on the back. Her eyes were shooter eyes—hit man eyes. They reminded her of Karl.

Slowly, Maria released her pistol and held up a hand to Xiesha, who lowered the shotgun with clear reluctance. She recognized the woman. She'd met her before—the night of the fire, when Karl had come to save her from Delgado.

She swept her vampire senses across the cemetery again. She sensed no one else, although her powers were diminished by the blue-white flare of consecrated ground. And the Order of the Thorn had their own tricks, didn't they? She glanced at Xiesha. “She alone?”

“Yes.” Xiesha's skin and eyes shimmered in the starlight. She kept the shotgun barrel pointed toward the ground, but she didn't put it away.

Lady MacKenzie stopped when she came within twenty feet. She looked at the headstone. “Paying your respects?”

“How'd you know I was here?”

Lady MacKenzie shrugged. “This grave is watched.”

Maria only stared at her, unable to find the words. After everything the Thorn had done to her, now they'd decided to shove themselves into the one private place where she could be close to her father.

“I gave the order.” Lady MacKenzie looked from Maria to Xiesha. “You and this kyveryn disappeared, and I wanted to keep tabs.” She held her hands out with her empty palms up. “Now I just want to talk. May I approach you?”

Again Maria didn't answer, but MacKenzie seemed to take silence as assent and approached. Xiesha circled to the side for a clear field of fire, but MacKenzie only nodded to her.

Maria waited until MacKenzie came to a stop opposite her, with her father's grave between them. “Where's Karl?”

“Eastern Europe. Romania, by now.” She shook her head. “I don't know his exact location.”

“You got some balls showing your face to me alone.”

Lady MacKenzie arched an eyebrow. “I'm afraid I have no balls at all.”

Maria sneered. “Guts then. You'd think you'd be worried I might strew those guts all over the ground.”

“I'm not worried.” And she wasn't. Maria could smell no scent of fear on her, despite being outnumbered and outgunned.

“So what the fuck do you want?”

“I came to see how you were doing.”

“You took Karl away from me. How the fuck do you think I'm doing?”

“I'm not your enemy, Maria.”

“You sure as hell could've fooled me. Is there anything else? You want to tag us with tracking collars or something?”

Lady MacKenzie shook her head. “I wanted to tell you, Karl doesn't contact you because he's in a blackout situation.” She glanced at Xiesha, but spoke to Maria. “If you scry for him, you won't find him.”

“Why would you want to tell me that? Why would you care?”

“Because you love him, and it must eat at you. Also, he loves you. I may not like him, but I respect him. And maybe I owe him too.”

“That's bullshit. You wanted to check up on me. Make sure I wasn't killing the wrong people, since Xiesha and I are off your leash.”

“We know who you've been killing.”

Well, that was a little disconcerting. True, she hadn't been hiding the bodies—she'd been too busy eliminating enemies who wanted her dead—but still, she found the thought of the Thorn paying attention very unnerving.

“When will you let Karl come home?”

“When he's completed his end of our agreement. We had a deal.”

“Some fucking deal. You threatened the people he cares about so he'd do your wet work. I want to know why. Who do you need him to kill?”

For a long time MacKenzie didn't answer. Maria was about to ask again when MacKenzie finally replied. “I don't have control of Karl Vance anymore. I handed off jurisdiction when he left New England. Lord Sokoll has responsibility for him now.”

“That doesn't tell me jack shit.”

“I can't reveal specifics. He's been sent to deal with a threat to the Silence.”

“What?”

Xiesha spoke for the first time. “The Order of the Thorn suppresses evidence and knowledge of the paranormal.” She stared unblinking at MacKenzie. “Often with violence.”

MacKenzie's eyes narrowed. “We're trying to hold everything together.”

“You told me this shit, why?” Maria asked. “You want a medal?”

“I don't expect either of you to understand. Order decays. It grows harder to keep the Silence. Harder to keep humanity ignorant of the things seething in the dark.”

“Would knowledge be so bad? My brain didn't melt when I discovered vampires were real.”

“Yes, but you didn't sleep peacefully after that, did you?” She smiled sadly. “And things didn't end well for you, did they?”

Maria said nothing. Xiesha didn't move, standing tense, all coiled violence and thrumming with deadly energy.

“I want to ask you something.” MacKenzie paused and stared down at the gravestone. “Karl…what if he doesn't come back? What will you do then?”

The words hit with the force of a punch to the stomach. She could only find the strength to whisper. “What are you saying?”

“He's up against something nasty. I don't enjoy saying it, but every leader must be realistic. I'm giving you the chance to do the right thing, to work with us and protect people against the evil running loose in the world.” She paused again. “You need to consider your options. Karl Vance may not survive.”

“Don't say that. Don't you fucking say that.”

“You can't run Boston forever. Eventually, people will notice you never age. They'll notice you never eat. Never walk in the daylight. Think about it. I'm sure rumors of your eccentricities have already started.”

“Never. And if Karl was…gone, then you can't threaten me. I won't serve anyone. Ever. And sure as hell not someone who hates what I am.”

“I don't hate vampires. I pity them.”

“Bullshit.” Maria's hands clenched into fists, her claws cutting into her palms.

“All those years, bringing death to others while walking through plagues and wars and famine. Slaves to the shadows, to their hunger—”

“I can't believe your goddamn
gall
. Karl goes off with you, you say he might not come back, and then you want me to
work
with you? Fuck. You.”

“This isn't a game. You have no allies and no friends to save you.”

Maria lifted her chin. “I have Karl. And Xiesha's my friend.”

Lady MacKenzie looked at Xiesha. “What about you, kyveryn? Would you ever serve the Thorn as Karl has?” She gave a hesitant smile. “If you agreed, perhaps your friend would consent.”

“Karl always believed you tried to save the innocent,” Xiesha said. “But to me, you're just another hunter.”

MacKenzie shook her head and stared off toward the trees. “I didn't mean for this to be so antagonistic. I feel responsibility for you both—you're in my territory, you're my problem. We're not friends. Maybe we never can be. But I think I might understand you more than you realize. That said, I won't hesitate to put either of you down if the order comes.” She lifted her hand as if taking an oath. “But I swear to you before God, I'd take no pleasure from it.”

“Business not pleasure, eh?” Maria said. “You'd fit right in with my crowd.”

“So your answer's still no?”

“My answer's no. It'll always be no. And the Thorn had better bring Karl back to me, or I'll hold you personally responsible.”

They stared at each other. Finally, Lady MacKenzie reached into her pocket. Maria grabbed behind her back for the Glock, her fangs bared. Xiesha's shotgun swung clear of her coat, and she leveled it at the Thorn knight. But MacKenzie only brought out a business card. She handed it toward Maria with a humorless smile.

“My number. In case you change your mind.”

Maria glared at the card and snatched it from MacKenzie's fingers so quickly her hand was a barely seen blur. She shoved the card in her pants pocket, then turned and walked away, focused on not hurrying, able to endure the low-grade burn of each footstep in silence. Though Xiesha fell into step behind her, shielding her from MacKenzie's line of fire, Maria could still feel the weight of MacKenzie's gaze.

She didn't turn. She couldn't afford to show fear.

Chapter Nine: True Believer Blues

Maria and Xiesha had just jumped the cemetery's boundary and crossed the road when she heard haunting, sorrow-filled music drifting from a tree. A flute, but not one seen in a marching band—no, this had a vaguely Japanese sound to it. She paused, searching for the source. Xiesha cleared the shotgun from her coat again and raised it to her shoulder, aiming at the tree branches where the stark music seemed to originate. What kind of nut-job freak played a flute at a cemetery? Somebody from the Thorn? Was this some kind of trap because they'd turned down MacKenzie?

Maria pulled her Glock 17 and worked the slide. “What the hell is that music?”

“Bone flute,” Xiesha answered, standing very still, aiming along the barrel. “Be careful.”

The music played on, thriving in its melancholy. A dark shape sat hunched on a tree limb and cradled a flute to its lips. The shape seemed to notice them, and the music cut off with a shrill note. The form dropped down off the branch, landing in a crouch before standing erect. Definitely not the Thorn, that much was immediately clear.

The thing standing at the base of the tree clutching the flute was man-shaped, short and lean. It had sleek gray skin, wide eyes with yellow irises and a strange white double eyelid which slid open slowly when it blinked. Jet-black hair, yanked into a vicious braid, and the braid itself pierced through with thin spikes of white bone. It opened its mouth in either a grimace or a smile, showing rows of triangular yellow teeth like a goddamn shark. The thing didn't even have a nose, just flaps of skin along its cheeks that flared open and shut when it breathed. Claws the color of old ivory. Leather clothes with crude black stitching, and a golden collar wrapped around its thick neck with a jewel gleaming in the center.

An ugly motherfucker all around. Not something you could ever bring out of the shadows because it would never pass for human.

She kept the Glock's sights on its head as she cast her vampire senses around, trying to find anyone or anything sneaking up or cutting her off. She sensed nothing but this gray creature with the flute, and inside her mind the thing had a cold, clammy feel to it—the hand of a corpse after a rainstorm. Her Glock was loaded with seventeen rounds of Xiesha's silver-jacketed wildcat cartridges, and she ignored the unpleasant needling of the silver aura prickling her skin around the pistol's grip. She had no problem experimenting to discover if this ugly monster was more vulnerable to silver or to good old-fashioned 9mm hollow points to the face.