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The older gentleman nodded. “Thomas Singer, and this is Hugh McMurphy.”
I nodded. “Pleasure to meet you, gentleman. Do you mind telling me what government agency you are with?”
Singer shifted slightly in his chair. “I’m with U.S. Immigration and Customs; Hugh is with Homeland Security.”
I tried not to frown as I leaned further into my comfy, high-backed leather chair. “And what can we possibly do for ICE and Homeland?”
The two men glanced at one another, and I took a moment to study them both. Thomas Singer was an older man with a full head of white hair, probably in his late fifties or early sixties. His nervous energy flitted about the room, and I didn’t need to peek into his head to see what he was thinking. He didn’t want to be here, and he was scared to death of us.
Now, the other man, Hugh McMurphy, was quite the opposite. He was staring at me as I shifted my gaze to him. His dark-blond hair was peppered with a little bit of silver around his temples, and I would peg him for being around forty, maybe forty-two at the most. He had an attractive round face and light-blue eyes that studied me almost as hard as I did him. He wasn’t nervous, and as I reached out to him, I saw inside his mind that he thought I was very pretty for a dangerous woman. I couldn’t help but chuckle softly. If he only knew just how dangerous I was.
“Well, it’s more what we can do for you,” Singer finally responded gruffly and collected my attention again as I raised a questioning brow his way. “With the knowledge of your kind becoming more pronounced, people are still concerned.”
“We’ve been around for a long time, Mr. Singer. People should realize that we are not here to hurt them.”
“How long have you been around?” Mr. McMurphy asked in a low, husky tone that made me take another long look at him.
Clayton spoke up. “Thousands of years.” Singer and McMurphy glanced at one another again. “And we have been peaceful, law-abiding people all that time. I don’t know what angle you all are working here, but just spill it already.”
“Well, I don’t know about law-abiding or peaceful,” McMurphy said slowly. “Your people wouldn’t have come to our attention if you had been living that way.”
“Just like any other civilization, there are bad people,” Hazel replied dryly.
“Funny that you call yourself a civilization,” Singer said.
Beckett asked, “Why is that?”
Singer shrugged. “Because you all act as if you were your own little country. You have your own government, your own laws, your very own leader.” He lifted his hand toward me as he spoke as if to prove a point.
“It has been necessary since the start of time to have a governing body, Mr. Singer,” I stated. “Our hierarchy has been in place for a long time to oversee our breed and keep them in line.”
“You haven’t done so well recently, Mrs. Armstrong,” he replied tersely.
“Do you want to start quoting statistics, Mr. Singer? Because I’m pretty sure that the human population is responsible for a much higher percentage of criminal activity,” I said, trying to keep the annoyance out of my voice.
Mr. McMurphy put his hand up. “It’s not about statistics or criminal activity. We want to help you, Mrs. Armstrong.”
“That was mentioned previously, but I have yet to hear what it is that you wish to be of service for,” I stated.
He glanced at Singer. “We’d like to work with you and have you assist us by providing a census of your people and any of their special skills.”
My brows jumped ever so slightly, and all four of the elders turned my way, protesting into my head.“Enough!”I snapped back at them mentally.
“A census? You want a list of my people? Why? So that you can herd us all into a confinement camp, while you tell us that you are trying to protect us?”
Both men shook their heads, but McMurphy answered, “No. We do not want to put you all into a camp.”
“Then what the hell does ICE and Homeland think they are going to do with that list? We aren’t breaking any laws, and those that do, are dealt with.”
“Yes, through your justice, but not ours,” Singer stated hotly. “You have previously said that your people are no different than ours. If that is the case, they should be required to follow the same rules of justice.”
Clayton laughed loudly. “You want to run them through a court of law? There isn’t a jail out there that could contain one of our kind.”
McMurphy spoke slowly. “No, that’s not what we are saying. We want to make sure that your justice is fit for the crime. The fact that you kill members of your society makes you your own court of law—judge, jury, and executioner. We want to make sure that your people, citizens, whatever you call them are protected by their constitutional rights.”
You have got to be kidding me. “I’m sorry, gentleman, but you don’t seem to understand the world we live in—have lived in for centuries. While our people follow our rules, it is to protect them and the human race. The only time someone is removed, is because they have violated those laws. Kind of like your death penalty.”
“You don’t have the right to put someone to death.” Mr. Singer sneered my way.
