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The rest of the Order on duty at the reception was similarly outfitted, a nearly twenty-man security detail garbed in finely tailored suits and tactfully concealed weapons. Not that they blended in, exactly. Hard to miss the presence of six and a half feet of muscled Breed might and darkly sober menace stationed in all corners of the glittering reception hall.
Precisely the point Lucan had wanted to make to the upward of a thousand human and Breed dignitaries and heads of state in attendance from various parts of the world.
The Order was on-site and vigilant.
They didn't need an arsenal of weapons to prove their point. It was evident in each warrior's stride. In his steady eye and stern jaw. And in the preternatural power that radiated off every one of Lucan's warrior brethren, even at rest. They were deadly cool and on the watch.
But they were there to maintain peace, not fan the flames of unrest or mistrust.
More than he could say for the thirty-plus cowboys swaggering around in Crowe Industries uniforms, each with a pair of sidearms bobbing at his hips. Lucan glowered as the preening peacock in command of those clueless yahoos started strutting toward him from across the wide floor of the crowded reception.
Next to him, Gabrielle put her hand on his arm and casually leaned toward him, speaking through her pretty, diplomatic smile. "Try to be nice. This is a party, remember?"
Eyes on Reginald Crowe, Lucan lowered his head and growled.>God knew, the female had repaired more than her share of combat injuries for the Order over the past two decades.
But now Tess seemed less than assured. "I can restart his heart," she said, "but I won't be able to stop the bleeding and repair all the bullet wounds at the same time. I can revive him, but he could bleed out faster than I can fix him."
"Let me help you." Tess and Dante's son, Rafe, hunkered down next to her. The young warrior's face was solemn with purpose, his eyes - the same aquamarine shade as his mother's - intense with a determination Lucan had seen him display in equal measure on the field of combat. Rafe placed his palms on two of the bullet wounds, then gave his mother a nod. "You kick-start his ticker. Leave the rest to me."
Tess smiled, her face full of maternal pride as the pair of healers went to work on Kellan.
Lucan wanted to know as badly as anyone else gathered around the scene if the Order would have a miracle here today or a loss that would send the body of one of their own - one of their kin - up to meet the sun tomorrow morning in a funeral ritual.
But regardless of in what condition Kellan Archer returned to the Order's headquarters, Lucan and the other warriors had serious problems of their own to contend with now.
Problems that only became more urgent with the execution-style slaying of GNC director Benson a few minutes ago.
Lucan sent a glance at Gideon, Tegan, Dante, and the rest of the Order's elders. "Opus Nostrum," he said grimly, a question in his dark tone.
Gideon shook his head, as did the other warriors. "It's Latin. Means 'our work.' "
"Any idea what it refers to or, more important, how it might relate to Ackmeyer's Morningstar project?"
"First I'm hearing of it," Gideon replied.
Tegan inclined his head, gaze flat and cold. "I'll get a team together and run some recon. We can have boots on the ground at sundown."
Lucan nodded. "We're gonna need whatever you can gather. Leave no lead unturned. Report back to me on everything you find."
Tegan pivoted, signaling to several other warriors to join him.
"What about the summit reception?" Dante asked. "You want to step up security, put more heat on display, in case anyone's got ideas about doing something stupid tonight?"
Lucan considered for a moment. As tempting as it was, the last thing he needed to do was storm into the peace summit with an army of Breed warriors decked out in full-scale combat gear and heavy firearms. In fact, doing so could play right into the hands of anyone who might harbor a private wish to see the truce between mankind and Breed disintegrate.
What better place to incite a war than at a peace summit?
At the reminder of Darion's words, Lucan glanced over at his son. Dare's observation from several days ago, before all of this chaos began, had been troubling enough to consider then. Now it seemed all too possible that his son's keen head for tactics and strategies had predicted it right.
What if someone wanted to disrupt the summit gala tonight?
What if someone wanted to undo all the strides that had been made since First Dawn twenty years ago and set back the clock to a time when there was no peace? Or make sure there never could be any going forward?
To do so, they would have to get through the Order first.
Lucan looked at Dante, gave a curt shake of his head at the question of putting on a very public display of the Order's might. "Let's not tip our hand tonight. If something is in play, let the bastards get comfortable. Let them show themselves first. We'll be ready for them. Meanwhile, no one is above suspicion."
Chapter Twenty-Six
