“I will, sir. You’re welcome, sir.” Walter ended the call. Walter always called Shaddock sir, not master. The former slave would never call anyone master. Never again. Walter was sworn to Shaddock out of friendship and personal loyalty, but wasn’t a scion, and wouldn’t use slave language. He’d walk into the sun first. That was dossier info EJ wasn’t supposed to have.
EJ perched on the edge of a chair in Walter’s kitchen, watching as their vamp protector knelt in front of the wall screen’s secure bench seat, opening it with a combination EJ wasn’t privy to. The built-in steel safe inside was beneath a pile of vintage fashion magazines and had its own dedicated security system. Every time Walter opened the bench and the safe, others were notified, because everything in the safe was tied to politics—Shaddock’s and Aunt Jane’s in both her personal capacity and as the queen. The items in it were to be used only with authorization—and Walter had made all those calls…
Walter removed two official standards from the safe and closed it up, exactly the way it had looked before.
Two standards. Why? And which two? The queen’s? Clan Yellowrock’s? Grampa’s?
Tucking the standards into his jacket pockets without comment, Walter adjusted the fit of the weapon rig at his waist and the weapon at his spine and pulled on an ultra-lightweight jacket with layers of protective fabrics and null workings. There was no warm wool layer in his jacket. Unlike EJ, vampires didn’t feel the cold, but the layers would protect him from things other than weather and also protect the standards of royalty and politics. Layers would also help him blend in, making him look human to the casual observer.
Walter frowned. Idly adjusting his clothes in the vamp-friendly mirror, he said, “I do wish someone would devise a null fabric that didn’t itch. The first time I wore a null suit, the itching was novel and interesting. That appreciation wore off quickly.” Some vamps could wear null clothing with no ill effects, but for Walter, it was different. It damped his vampiric gifts some: his hearing, sense of smell, and though they had tested his night vision and proved it remained acute, Walter was convinced his vision decreased. And the itch from null clothing was a unique and unpleasant sensation.
From a pocket in his jacket, Walter pulled two foldable headsets and a handful of ear-patches, placing all on the kitchen table. He shoved a headset and two patches to EJ.
Gingerly, EJ unfolded the AE headset and said, “Walter, my pal. Does Uncle Sam know you have these?” The high-tech Audio Equalization Pass Filter System headsets and ear-patches were far better than anything on the civilian market. These had AI upgrades that let in specific hertz wavelengths, like voices, but automatically dampened explosive frequencies and concussive waves; could link to any nearby comms and listen in with auto translation capability; could override electronic shielding; had protective and nearly invisible eyepieces; could pull up an AI-assisted 3-D map; and were totally illegal for civilians to have. EJ knew. He’d used older versions in the war. If a cop inspected it and knew military electronics, it would be confiscated.
Walter slitted his eyes at EJ and gave a half smile. “Secrets, dear boy.”
They all had their secrets.
EJ said, “Ojos, sync file ‘Londyn: personal residence’ with our unicoms.”
Their system synchronized the floor plan and 3-D images he had taken of Londyn’s house on an overnight visit. Images of the interior of her house appeared on the headset lenses. If necessary, the view could expand to the yard and surrounding streets, making certain each of them would know where the other was, should they become separated. Two dots appeared on the screen, blinking in waiting mode. “I’m the red dot. You’re blue,” EJ said.
Changing the subject, Walter said, “This week’s code word is ‘aardvark,’ a word seldom used except on nature channels.”
“Fine.”
“Why did Angelina go to privacy mode?” Walter asked.
EJ sighed. “No reason that needs to be reported.”
Walter lifted his brows. It was that supercilious look older vamps were so good at, and it always set EJ’s teeth on edge. It reminded him of a certain general in the war, a human who thought witches were a waste of time, tech, ground support, and backup. He was dead now, demon-ridden and shot.
EJ glanced at the wall screen. There was a small yellow light on Walter’s electronics system, a numeral beside it.
“Ojostold you when she shut it down?” EJ asked. If so,Ojosinformed Walter when he too went private.Hell’s hounds. Leaning forward, just enough to hold the vamp’s attention, he said, “So we have no privacy. At. All.” He spaced out the words.
This was why they had left coven and queen behind.
“On the contrary, Evan Junior. Pecan Protocol required upgraded security measures and providedOjoswith new responsibilities. If one of you calls out the code word, or a stranger is present inside your apartments, or mine, Alex Younger will be notified for a security evaluation and response.Iwas notified of privacy mode. Not the queen’s team.”
EJ had worked under human soul-suckers in the military, and with vamp bloodsuckers since. He didn’t like it, but he would make it work. EJ gaveOjosorders for a deep, invasive, no-holds-barred background search on Londyn, her finances, her home, and her tea shop. He stood. “Let’s go visit my former girlfriend.”
They left the apartment together, walked down five flights of stairs, and out the back door to the small parking area. Walter nodded to the guard in the tent, and EJ drove from the lot into the night.
“On the surface,” Walter said, staring at his system screen, “Londyn Simms appears to be who and what she claimed. A twenty-six-year-old woman, living frugally, but comfortably, off her earnings from the tea shop, the yoga seminars she runs, the travel events she books, events where she takes handpicked, wealthy, usually aged, tea and yoga aficionados on spa-style trips to foreign lands. The reality just beneath the surface has become slightly different in the past few months.”
EJ frowned. He’d done a mid-level dive on her when he met her, as he did with all his partners, and nothing had been amiss. He made a left, watching traffic, instinctively watching for a tail. The vigilance of war never dissolved.
His tone mild as a spring breeze, Walter said, “The queen’s people did a deep background on her the day she showed an interest in you.”
EJ’s breathing and heart rate remained unchanged. The vamp might smell irritation in his sweat, but that would be the only indication that he was pissed. He’d been well trained.
“My assets’ love and friendship interests are wellresearched,” Walter said. “Until now, you had no need to know about the electronic searches. I do not have official permission to tell you this and I am quite certain the queen’s security team will be most unhappy with me. However, in truth, keeping the two of you safe and healthy in this new world of evolving electronics, the militaristic uses of magic, the epidemics, and the Witch War, require far more than minimally invasive background searches of many people.”
How deep had the dive been on Tony, Angie’s attacker? Had he been drained dry in ableed and read? Tortured to death? EJ didn’t ask. Koun’s actions were not his responsibility. “How intrusive were the dives on my lady friends?” EJ asked.
“Thorough,” Walter said. “And though Londyn passed the initial background, things have changed.”
