Chosen by Blood (14 page)

Knox leaned closer to the man, bending slightly so he could stare into his eyes. “How did it feel, paying the scientist who invented the vamp vaccine, knowing that the female vampire you were in love with would slowly waste away because of it?”

 

 

It was almost a full day after telling him she was on the team that Felicia saw Knox. Mahone had come and gone, and Knox had called a team conference. With Lucy and O’Flare sitting and Wraith once again pacing, Felicia noted with some amusement that Knox was valiantly trying to ignore her. He was pretty much succeeding until Hunt walked in and made a point of taking the empty seat next to her instead of one of the five others that had been closer to him. At that point, Felicia saw Knox’s eyes practically turn green and had to smother a smile with her hand.

Even now, her body’s response to his presence shocked her. The ache in her heart, however, far exceeded any that her body produced; it was comforting to see that Knox’s feelings for her surpassed pure physical desire, even if the prevalent feeling was jealousy.

“I have business I need to take care of tomorrow, possibly even the day after that. Before I leave,” Knox said, “I want to run you all through some exercises and drills, so I can evaluate firsthand your different strengths and weaknesses.”

“Don’t get your stopwatch out too soon,” Hunt said. “I didn’t sign on for boot camp.”

Felicia arched a brow and turned toward the were
.
“What’s the matter, Hunt?” she asked lightly. “Afraid I’ m going to make you look bad?”

Hunt’s eyes rounded just a hair before he looked her up and down with an appreciative glance. “Not possible, Red, but on second thought, I’d love to see you try. In fact, I’ll even give you a head start, so long as you promise to wear some shorty-shorts while you’re running.”

“Everyone is going to do the drills,” Knox gritted out, “or you can pack your bags. In case it didn’t come through earlier, I’m in charge of the team and that means I need to see you in action—in training and on the streets.”

“Since I haven’t been tossed out yet,” Felicia drawled, “I’m assuming I’ll be taking part in all this?”

Knox glowered at her. “I told Mahone my concerns that you don’t have the right training for this position, but he assured me I was wrong. In fact,” Knox said sweetly, a considering look in his eyes, “one of the things Mahone mentioned you’re quite skilled at, Felicia, is verbal judo. How about I give you the floor and you tell us what that is?”

Hunt’s snort was not in the least bit unexpected, nor was the fact that everyone else ignored him. With his arms crossed over his chest, Knox stared at Felicia, clearly challenging her. She understood perfectly what he was doing and it pissed her off. Since Mahone wasn’t cooperating, he was trying to embarrass her in front of the team by picking a particularly controversial topic for her to discuss. If the team rejected her, he assumed she’d run off to lick her wounds. He obviously didn’t know her as well as he thought he did. Standing, she strolled up to him, noting that he moved aside to keep a respectable distance between them.

It threw her. For all his current manipulations, Knox had never avoided her physically before; suddenly she wondered just how pissed he was. With all eyes on her, however, she shook it off.

She looked steadily at each of them. “The whole premise of verbal judo, just like the physical kind, is conscious, deliberate control of your words and actions in order to achieve a desired result. In a high-stress situation, sometimes the worst thing you can do is respond with your first impulse.”

“Usually my first impulse is to shoot first and ask questions later. It’s worked well for me up to now,” Wraith said.

“I’m sure that’s true,” Felicia said. “Given our background, survival instinct plays a big role in why we’re all here today. I’ m not disputing that sometimes force must be met with force. But you’re no longer working by yourself or in the midst of an infantry. This is a very intimate, specialized team and every move one makes is going to impact each of us. It could also make the difference between mission success and failure. Each of you needs to decide whether you’re devoted to the team’s mission goal or your own safety—because at times those two things may be incompatible.”

Hunt shook his head. “Get over yourself, Red. We’re not here for the greater good, we’re here because we want something and the government’s got us by the balls.”

“I don’t buy that, Hunt. If all you were doing was looking out for yourself, you wouldn’t risk your life on a mission to retrieve an antidote that has no direct benefit to you. Whether you admit it or not, you’re all here because you want to see change.”

“I want to see change, that’s true,” Lucy interrupted. Felicia turned to the mage while suppressing a sigh of relief. If she’d had to lock eyes with Hunt for a second longer, she wasn’t sure if she could have stopped herself from blinking, and that’s exactly what he’d wanted her to do. She knew Hunt wanted change, but she also wasn’t entirely sure how compliant he’d be to get it.

“The more tools we have, the better,” Lucy continued. “So explain how verbal judo could help in a specific situation.”

“Verbal judo is a technique used by hostage negotiators and law enforcement when facing off with a suspect. The trick is to avoid bloodshed by using tactical peace phrases. Anytime you can prevent escalation of a potentially dangerous situation, you should do so. It’s a call you’ll all have to make, maybe not on this mission, but eventually. For example, Wraith, what if a suspect pulls a gun on you but you know he’s the only one who has the information you need?”

The left side of Wraith’s mouth tipped up. “I know exactly where to shoot someone to inflict the most damage without killing him.”

“So he’s wounded and pissed off, determined to take his secrets to the grave. Now what?”

“Then the dharmire here reads his mind or the mage uses enchantment to make him talk. Isn’t that why we’re going through this whole group effort?”

“But what if Knox isn’t around? Or what if you’re outgunned and you need to talk yourself to safety? Your everyday speech is enchanting, but dropping the F-bomb every other word might not work when a bad guy has his sights on you.”

“My F-bombs aside,” Wraith sneered, “he wouldn’t get his sights on me in the first place. This is a ridiculous waste of time.” Wraith popped the gum in her mouth and headed for the door. “Tell Mahone if he wants me on the team, it’s going to be me, and not some doll he can program—”

“Wraith—” Knox began.

“Look, Wraith,” Felicia interrupted in a firm but calm voice. Wraith stopped a few feet from the door. “The reason I joined the FBI was because of my parents, but the job is what ended up killing them. We’re not friends, but while this might seem like a joke to you, I’m concerned about the safety of every member of this team. This is just one way to get you to think differently. Is there anything I can say to get you to listen with an open mind? Because Mahone had enough faith in you to think so.”

Felicia watched Wraith’s shoulders rise as she took a deep breath. Slowly, she turned and met Felicia’s gaze. “Fine,” she said. “Just get on with it, would you? I’m getting bored.” Wraith walked to an empty chair and sat down.

Propping her hands on her hips, Felicia asked, “Any questions ?”

Wraith straightened and scowled. “What—”

Hunt clapped his hands in a slow, staccato beat.

“Well done, Red. Your little display showed us how a direct attack results in hostility and how your verbal tap dance diffused it. In this case, it worked, but I’m not planning on getting rid of my knife anytime soon.”

“Still, I think I made my point,” Felicia said. “We can discuss the most common phrases and techniques another time.” With a piercing glance at Knox, she walked past Wraith to her chair.

“Bitch,” Wraith muttered.

“From you, I’ll take that as a compliment,” Felicia said.

Felicia didn’t miss the way the wraith had to fight to keep from smiling. When she looked up, however, Knox’s expression was hard and implacable.

“Everyone change into your workout clothes and meet outside in ten minutes,” he said. “If any of you are capable of walking after our drills, we’ll be going on a little field trip.”

“What kind of field trip?” O’Flare asked.

Knox’s smile was slight but packed with enough satisfaction to make Felicia’s eyes narrow. “Think of it as a visit to the zoo, only the animals won’t be in cages and instead of ‘Do Not Feed’ or ‘No Flash Photography’ signs, the prevalent theme is ‘Every Man’—or in most of your cases—’Every Otherborn for Himself.’”

“Sounds like most of the places I stopped at on my ride here,” Hunt said.

“Then you won’t be surprised by the water trough that’s outside,” Knox responded. “The one that’s labeled, ‘Drown with Weres.’”

“Clever. You think of that all on your own?” Hunt asked. “Because weres, as a general rule, are excellent swimmers.”

Knox shrugged. “I would be, too, if water was what prevented me from shifting into my immortal form.”

“People aren’t really that stupid, are they?” Lucy asked. “That they’d wave a red flag for all weres to see?”

“Patience, Lucy, and you’ll be able to answer that question for yourself.”

The answer to Lucy’s question was that people really were that stupid. At around 9:30 p.m., five hours after Knox called them into the conference room, the six of them, aching and bruised from the workout Knox had put them through but all determined to hide it, stood before the rusted-out trough with the were epithet scrawled on front. The remote roadside bar behind it, a drab concrete building with a huge steel door, was located just outside the border of Virginia, in Kentucky. Although music was blaring from inside, the dominant noise was cheering studded with shouts and the occasional sound of breaking glass.

Hunt looked at the trough with disgust. “Damn rednecks might as well slap swastikas on it and burn a wooden cross while they’re at it.”

“Oh, they’ve got those inside, too,” Knox confirmed. “Don’t worry, though. Despite the area’s . . . suspicion . . . of weres in the past, you won’t have to shave your soul patch or deny your parentage tonight. On fight night, anyone with the right amount of cash is guaranteed entry.”

“Interesting, but forgive me if I don’t do a happy dance and shift when we get inside.”

Felicia couldn’t believe Knox intended for any of them, let alone Hunt, to go inside. Looking at the number of motorcycles parked outside and the way bloody bodies were being tossed out of the bar’s front door every three minutes, Felicia grabbed Knox’s arm.

“Problem?” he asked, cocking a brow.

“Actually, yes,” she said through clenched teeth. “Putting us through our paces is one thing, but leading us into a slaughter is something different. We all completed your little drills. We’re not here to pick fights or wind up in the emergency room. Just what are you trying to prove?”

“I’m not trying to prove anything except some people are built for combat and some are not. As you said before, you’re the not.”

She whipped her hand away, not even trying to suppress her expression of outrage and disbelief. “What do you think I’ve been doing as a special agent for the past ten years? Pruning roses and making homemade truffles?”

“Completing drills and shooting on a range aren’t the same as street fighting. Talking down a kidnapper with a hostage isn’t the same as dealing with a sociopath bent on world domination.” Knox turned to the others. “You should all go into this with your eyes wide open. In my opinion, anyone who gets thrown out that door instead of walking out of it doesn’t belong on this team.”

An explosion of cheers erupted inside just before another body was tossed out.

“What
is
this place?” Lucy asked.

“My guess is it’s where people come to beat the shit out of each other for sport,” O’Flare answered, his eyes shining with what almost looked like anticipation. Seeing that, Felicia’s lips pursed. What was it with males and extreme sports that made them, even someone as laid-back as O’Flare normally was, want to beat their chests and prove they were the biggest, baddest boy on the playground?

“That’s right,” Knox confirmed. “An ultimate fighting ring without the television cameras or the obnoxious costumes. The rules are simple: Show up, sign in, and get it on. In other words,” he said with a deliberate look at Felicia, “there are no rules.”

“Gee,” Wraith sneered, “thanks for that clarification. She wouldn’t have gotten it otherwise.”

Surprised by the wraith’s support, Felicia crossed her arms over her chest. “In other words, it’s the equivalent of human cockfighting.” She stared at Knox in disbelief. “You couldn’t have picked a better way to denigrate everything I told them earlier, could you? The whole time I was talking about verbal persuasion, you were planning this, weren’t you? So what? Are we all climbing into the ring together or one at a time?”

“Neither,” Knox said. “We’re here to apprehend one of the fighters. A mage named Simon Randolph, who’s killed the last seven of his opponents, both humans and Others. You’ll know him by his signature tattoo, a bull tattooed on his bald skull. In addition to the fighting-related murders, he’s wanted in connection with a bombing of the London metro last year, one that killed approximately twelve American tourists. He also happens to have been college roommates with one Kristoff Lafleur, a vamp who does security detail for the FBI. Lafleur was one of the guards watching over Dr. Barker’s lab when Barker was murdered and the antidote stolen.”

“Did Mahone authorize this?”

“Why? Are you gonna call him and tattletale on my ass?” Knox taunted.

Firming her lips, Felicia pushed past him and strode toward the door. “No, I’m gonna kick your ass, and then you’re gonna kiss mine. In your dreams,” she spat. She was about ten feet from the door when he grabbed her arm and wrenched her around.