Epilogue

King Francis wore his shirt open at the collar and khakis with the knife crease fresh down the leg. It was the most disheveled Roman had ever seen the king as he paced back and forth in front of a sixty-inch TV. Some political disaster had exploded that embroiled a politician and the monarch’s wife. Sticky human business. Not his problem.

In his earpiece, Flynn said, “All security has been controlled and diverted. You have three to five minutes. Ky has eyes in the sky for your departure.” Meaning the sniper was at his post.

“Your Majesty, we need to talk.”

The king whipped around and backed up a few paces. “Wha…what the hell? Where did you come from?”

“Please, sit.” Roman waved at the sofa and clicked off the TV. “This is more important than that.”

“That’s my life—”

“It’s minutiae that’ll blow over and barely affect your life a week from now,” Roman interrupted. “Gerard is compromised. He’s on Slate’s payroll.” He leaned back and watched closely.

The king’s eyes flared for a moment.

“You didn’t know that he worked more for Slate than you? We, on the other hand, report only to you. We worked with Gerard so long as he spoke in good faith for you, but once he skidded off the rails and no longer did so—once he coordinated with Slate to have us exterminated via missile on a bogus mission—we stopped following his directives.”

“He hasn’t reported anything wrong with you. He tried to what? A missile?”

“He wouldn’t report anything wrong, not after what he’s been doing. Did you order to have us assassinated?” Roman’s cheek twitched from gritting his teeth.

The monarch shook his head. “Why would I do that?”

“Someone doesn’t want you to have us as an advantage anymore. I want you to listen closely, since our time is short. First, replace Gerard. Do it within the next hour.”

The monarch held up his hand and stood. “You don’t get to bark orders at me. You’re mine to order.”

Roman counted slowly to ten. He couldn’t wait to be free of this narcissist. Give me patience, God. “I understand your need to be in control, but this is about far more than some peon going rogue. He’s not loyal to you. You don’t want to give him full authority when he doesn’t speak for you. Plus, he tried to kill us. He’ll try again. Then you won’t have us anymore. He’s owned by Slate. With us, you get to be autonomous from the government. You have a power they don’t, and no other leader does. You want to keep that, right?”

He nibbled at the inside of his cheek. “Gerard’s out. Done. But I’m not… I can’t interact with you in a day-to-day capacity.”

“Find someone new. You need someone not associated with MI6 but who has some field work experience. Someone who will be so awed to be asked that he’ll be dying to have this job.”

“I’ll consider it.”

“There’s something bigger going on. Someone has been capturing lycans and other paranormal creatures for decades to both breed and brainwash them into becoming super-soldiers. To sell them to the highest bidder.” He paused to gauge if the monarch was surprised. Although a superb actor, his eyes didn’t change. He knew.

“Have you purchased some of them?” Roman asked.

He tugged at his tie.

Roman sighed and rubbed a finger along the bridge of his nose. “Shit.”

“What?” The king dramatically put a hand to his chest. “I’ve never heard of this. What are they doing this for?”

“Sir… Your Majesty, you’re a lousy liar when it counts. Let’s not waste each other’s time. I’m not sure how involved you’ve been in this business. Maybe you thought it fun or profitable? Or maybe it was about having more power? Maybe you even loaned out one of us like a stud? Maybe you only wanted more of us? We’re going to move beyond whatever your initial goals were in getting into this.” Roman leaned forward. “Imagine your enemies having paranormal super-soldiers. They’re stronger than humans, capable of wielding magic, capable of walking right through security undetected…capable of getting to you when we’re not there.”

The king said, “But I have the tools to stop them if they got out of control. I have you. Maybe more of you.”

“These aren’t robots. They’re not toys with an on-off switch. They’re not easily controlled. Those brain triggers might hold for the job they’re asked to do, but not afterward. What happens if one of their soldiers isn’t fully under their control and goes crazy? The type of damage they can do is far beyond what you can comprehend. We just fought with a brainwashed witch who breathed fire. What the hell would your people do against that? Did you know they ordered one of their brainwashed creatures to kill you already? That we had to stop her?”

“No,” he said in a hiss of an exhale. He slumped into his chair like a deflating balloon. “They ordered one of them to come after me?” Only one of these spoiled royals would be worried about himself with no sense of the broader picture or what he’d set in motion.

“Yes.” Roman folded his hands in his lap. “You have zero control over this. Whoever’s in charge will eliminate you because you know. If they can’t get to you, they’ll try to control you through your family. These are creatures that can get through anything. Look, we arranged to have this meeting, and we’re on your team. I don’t even know the extent of magicals they’ve brainwashed into becoming their slaves.”

“They’re controllable. I was told by a FenCor exec we could keep a strict rein on them.”

“No, you can’t. Please, sir, you have to understand that. Control is an illusion. Maybe they’ll behave for a limited time to do one specific thing, but once done and the orders wear off, they’re sentient, thinking beings, but with capabilities far beyond your understanding. Now they’re angry that someone locked them up, starved them, and messed with their heads. They’ll want revenge for what was done to them. They might not limit their revenge to the humans who imprisoned them, but target all humans. This is the biggest paranormal terrorist time bomb ever, one that you helped create.”

“But you’ll protect me?”

He didn’t want to nod. He wanted to leave and forget the whole business, but the curse burned his wrist. He managed a small, stiff nod. “For however long the curse is in effect. Yes. But we’re not going to guard you twenty-four hours a day. The only way I can keep everyone safe—you and your family—is for us to be honest with each other. I need to know who is in charge of the facilities. We have to shut this down. Who did you speak to? Who is doing this?”

“It was a woman named Madeline Sigge.”

“Mad Sigge’s daughter. We’re going to try to stop this, but it might be too much even for us.”

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