“She’s cute enough,” Timor said indifferently. “And Eerie seems nice in her own weird way. She’d make a good girlfriend for a shy guy, and Alex is exceptionally shy. Even I can see that. Emily is, well, she has looks and poise and she is a hell of a cook, but she’s a bit lacking in something important. I’m not sure what it is, so don’t ask me. She’s just not the kind of girl I can see Alex falling in love with, that’s all. So, I hope you’re hedging your bets.”
“You know I always do,” Anastasia chided him as he took her other hand and lifted her, delicately, over a protruding obstacle that was invisible to her. “Eerie and I have cooperated for years. She became recalcitrant and cut me out when Alex showed up, so I respected her wishes and left her to her own devices. True, I sent Katya to watch over them, but that is probably excessive caution on my part. I can’t imagine Alex getting up the courage to do anything more than talk, but I told Katya to take care of it if things get too heated.”
“Another night spent outside a window watching those two make out,” Timor laughed. “You’re going to warp my sister even more than she already is. I’m not sure I — hey…”
He trailed off. She would have asked him what was going on, but he put his hand on her shoulder, and she knew he meant for her to stay quiet. While Timor had worked as an assassin for her for a year or so, he was a capable bodyguard as well, and she respected his wishes. Anastasia knew from a lifetime of experience that a part of being guarded successfully was simply cooperating with the process of being protected. After a moment, he leaned close to whisper in her ear, she could feel his breath against her skin, and though she never would have admitted it, she didn’t mind at all.
“There are two or three people on top of the hill to our right, coming in our direction, and another group off to the left, circling around to the houses. I don’t think they know we are here, I think they are heading toward one of the houses behind us. Could be you, could be Alex. Either way, they trip over us here and we are in trouble. Can you bring your Weir closer to us?”
Anastasia pulled the whistle from where it hung on a thin braided platinum chain, down in between what she optimistically thought of as her breasts. There was no audible noise when she blew into it, but the Weir came over on their padded feet, sidling through the undergrowth to take positions protectively around her.
“Okay,” Timor said, sounding impressed and encouraged. “Those are better odds. Now, what do you want to do?”
“I don’t want them to see us. Let them pass us, and then follow them before you do anything. I want to know who they are.”
“Fine,” Timor said, concentrating, and then pointing to a nearby copse, dominated by one massive old leafless oak. “They won’t look over there when they come by. But, if they have any telepaths with them and they have your signature…”
Anastasia chuckled as she walked over behind the tree, Timor and the Weir tagging obediently along behind her.
“Not to worry,” she said warmly. “They won’t notice me, I’m sure.”
She was right, of course, and they didn’t. There were three of them, dressed in grey and dark blue, their faces obscured by smudge paint and darkness. It didn’t matter. She still recognized them.
“Taos Cartel.”
Timor turned to look at her, his expression strained.
“What? You can’t be serious!”
“I am,” Anastasia said icily. “They are Taos Cartel members, no doubt about it. They could only be here for me. We have traitors in the Black Sun. Clearly, Terrie is not the only cartel that has been compromised.”
“Assassins,” Timor said softly, watching them disappear back into the brush, moving steadily toward Anastasia’s house. “Here for the future head of the Black Sun. They mean to put the whole cartel into disarray. Maybe even start a civil war.”
Anastasia emerged from behind the tree, following the path the assassins had taken, a respectable distance behind. Donner and Blitzen pressed against the blooming skirts of her dress, and she was grateful for their presence. She could walk confidently in front of Timor, her servant, which was important. Because the dogs would do the worrying for her. And there was indeed much to worry over.
“Two teams that we know about,” Anastasia reminded him. “There could be more. They aren’t here for me exclusively. The Taos cartel fields twenty-two combat capable operators. If they are making a move, then it makes no sense not to hit me with everything they have.”
“Are you going to recall Renton?” Timor asked nervously, checking his long Russian army coat, no doubt confirming the presence of the various implements of his trade. “He could be useful.”
“No, I like him where he is,” Anastasia said thoughtfully. “If they are hitting multiple targets, I am willing to bet that Alex is one of them. But I do have to warn someone.”
She had Brennan, the only other competent telepath she had on campus, relay the call to him. The man she wanted to talk to wasn’t a telepath, but thanks to the Etheric machinery implanted in his brain, he could download protocols at will from the network. Since he was a precognitive, he was always listening when he needed to be, because he knew that he would need to be.
“Gaul.”
“Anastasia. I assume I know why I’m hearing from you?”
“Yes. I have five of them over here, two teams. I’ll take care of them. Nevertheless, I thought you should know — they are members of the Taos Cartel, and there could be fifteen or so more of them in Central. Proscribe the Taos Cartel. I officially withdraw the Black Sun’s protection.”
“Understood. Don’t bother taking them alive.”
Anastasia broke the connection and smiled. As if, she thought. Questions had to be answered, and it wasn’t as if Gaul and his Auditors planned on sharing information with the Black Sun when they dragged their own prisoners down to the cells.
“This works out well,” Anastasia said, satisfied. “Alright, Timor. Take the first group as they leave the woods. And if you can leave one of them alive…”
Timor acknowledged her with a nod, and then ducked on ahead, moving at a jog. She gave a curt command in Norwegian, the Weirs’ mother tongue, and they glided into motion, spreading out to Timor’s flanks, moving quickly through the leaves and the darkness.
16
“Hello!” Alex yelled over the near deafening music, waving like a total idiot, and then shoving his hands in his pockets, so they couldn’t embarrass him any further.
Eerie blinked, looking briefly confused.
“Hi…”
Alex stood in the doorway.
“What — uh, what are you listening to?” Alex asked, over the thunderous, robotic bass.
“The Glitch Mob,” Eerie responded seriously, after glancing at her laptop. “Do you like it?”
Alex shrugged, at first trying to figure out if that was the artist or the song title for, then deciding it didn’t matter. Eerie put music on his mp3 player all the time without him even realizing it, since he hit shuffle every morning when he put his headphones on. Because he’d asked about it, he was pretty sure he would hear the song again eventually.
“You won’t believe this,” Eerie said softly, from where she sat stretched across a small couch in the corner of the room, her tongue stained as blue as her hair from Pixie Stix, “but I actually tried to clean up.”
If she had, he couldn’t imagine what it had looked like before. There were two narrow paths through the clutter that led to the small couch on one side of the room, and the unmade bed on the other. The rest of the floor was covered in a layer of software cases, DVDs, and articles of discarded clothing. The desk in the corner groaned under the weight of several different computers and displays, and the wall behind it was at rat’s nest of cords and black boxes with green blinking lights. The monitor's glow provided the room's primary source of lighting.