ELYSE SAT AT THE TABLE nearest the door, the open doorway flooding light into her balmed face. She wanted to see them coming.
They arrived as promised. Dressed in their outBlank clothing. The shorter one was certainly the one who’d spoken over the comm. All reddish auburn hair and attitude. The companion walked like someone who tended to Take Charge before breakfast. Elyse appreciated their lack of subterfuge. When they stopped at her table she looked at them from under the wide brim of her hat and was honest enough with herself that it worried her they didn’t look pleased. Elyse resolved, though, that there had been no other way. “We just want to leave,” she said.
The women stood impassively above her.
“What he did was wrong,” Elyse said.
“I’ve been told not to speak,” said the brogue levelly, “on the grounds that I might punch you in the throat. But know this: you’ve tread where you never belonged.”
“Fiona Carel,” Desiree introduced crossways.
Fiona returned the favor. “Captain Desiree Quicho.”
They pulled chairs to sit (while several clones teleported Ramses, Raffic and Maseef into the stronghold where three vampires made sure their captives’ paralysis never wore off). Brian, outside the café, hoped to be as inconspicuous as possible.
“We want safe passage out of Atlantis,” said Elyse.
(While one of the vampires listening in on Elyse’s wire screamed to her, “We were traced!” he also wished they hadn’t decided, in the wake of the earlier fiasco, against a two-way subcutaneous—and was snatched mid-air from his immediate dive to sink his teeth into Guerris’ leg. He landed hard on his stomach, rolled quickly, and looked into the face of Maseef Or-Ghazeem.)
“Once home, no persecution,” Elyse went on.
Raffic grabbed a trigger finger, bent it totally against the grain, swept the legs of the vampire out, and retrieved the gun.
“Just leave us alone. Promise that, and we release your crew. In advance,” Elyse added to show good faith.
Of course there was an entire colony. (Once apprised of the exact location, the Battle Ready Bastards came from the sky on solar gliders, raining hallucinogenic darts that forced the remaining vampires into spasms of psychological ennui.)
“Promise it,” said Elyse.
“I don’t think so,” said Desiree. Her comm blinked.
Elyse’s face was a huge question mark.
Desiree placed the comm on the table.
Ramses spoke. “Your name is Elyse Hoek. There are seventeen of you. There’s another cell in the Glacial Mountains. I’m not interested in negotiating. Give me useful information.”
“I don’t know anything!”
“That didn’t help. Signal Brian to come to you.” Ramses waited a moment. “Brian?”
“Yes?”
“Where’s Buford?”
Brian leaned close to the comm to waylay the urge to shout out, “I have no freaking idea!” In a restaurant setting, though, such urgent hissing drew more attention than wanted. A few poets glanced their way with properly stifled interest, and one or two patrons recognized the outsiders and deduced a show was about to begin.
The proprietor and tress quickly approached their table.
“You’re enjoying the sun, I see,” the tress said.
“Better before it clouds up,” the proprietor said. He took in Elyse’s pale, glossed features and matched them with Brian’s. “Out-Blank vamphyre?” he asked, never having seen one but heard described enough. “At our restaurant! Here, move farther in, be comfortable.” Nobody but Sip people pronounced it vaam-peer.
“We won’t be here long,” said Desiree. “Thank you.”
“If there are any problems please let us know,” said the woman.
“Not that you want to be bothered,” said the man. “I imagine there’s something exciting happening at this table.” He noticed no one had ordered, despite the newly redesigned interactive menus inlaid in the wood of the table. “I would make a suggestion but…well, what do vamphyres eat?” he said. “Besides the traditional.”
“When did you arrive through the Blank?” asked the wife. “I can’t recall hearing about it.”
“All just recently,” said Desiree. She indicated the comm sitting patiently on the table. “Conference call.”
The man brightened. “Business ventures! We’ll leave you to it.”
“They’re going to kill me,” said Elyse.
“The risks of investment,” said the man. “There are several Sip delicacies on the menu.”
“And sausage. You’ll need to scroll down for that,” said the wife.
“We would rather keep this a low-profile meeting,” said Desiree. “If you could not mention that there are vampires here,” she said, twirling a finger.
The two agreed with a shared nod and hustled off.
“Ramses,” said Desiree.
“The Glacial colony,” he resumed. “Why there?”
“They’re scientists,” Elyse said with a dour expression, darting her eyes low and scanning the restaurant. “Following a theory about the Mount and Glaciers.”
“Fractal?”
“Quantum.”
“Brian?”
“Yes?”
“Do you love your wife?”
“I do.”
“Is she lying to me?”
“I don’t know.”
“Thank you. Desiree, bring them here.”
“We’ll take your rover,” Desiree told the vampire. “Where is it?”
Elyse pointed out the top-of-the-line red rover shaded by an odhiry tree.
“Shotgun,” said Fiona, and she was being quite literal.