21 Shades of Night, page 383
Agenda – Copy 9/10
7:30pm – Opening & Bulletin NC
7:45pm – Finders Update P&ME
7:55pm – Fundraising Fr.JM, EH
8:00pm – Concerns GY, CN
8:15pm – Discussion NC
8:45pm – Closing NC
Reminders
All agendas must be returned to Fr. JM for destruction.
Questions regarding any portions of the meeting aside from the main discussion are limited to post-meeting only.
Tonight’s post-meeting will occur at Fenwick’s Diner. Meal compliments of EH.
Do not share with anyone what you see here tonight! We are only as safe as our group is quiet! Remember the three Cs: Covert! Cautious! Calculating! - GY
The first half hour of the meeting was less fireworks and more business than I expected. True to the agenda, Carter discussed some brief information regarding usual "club business" and Sam and Mia spent their full allotment on explaining the new information that had been added to the group's password protected website. In a brief interlude, Ms. Emma Hayes and Father McCullough laid out the plans for the coming expenditures of the group (including a road trip to a possible UFO landing site outside of Winthrop. I felt my attention wavering a bit until Gerry and Chris rose from their seats and took to the podium.
Chris cleared his throat several times, until Gerry nudged him with an elbow. "Uh, sorry. Yes, I'd like to get started tonight by discussing the most recent break-in attempt on our server." He pinched the bridge of his nose and looked down at a sheet of paper he'd pulled from his pocket. "On June third, around two a.m., I noticed several attempts to break through our firewall. With the help of Sam, I was able to stop the attack and we eventually traced the IP address to a proxy in Russia-"
"And we all know what this means!" Gerry interrupted, stepping out in front of the podium. "We've been the target of these attacks before, and we're pretty sure this one can be traced back to The Hive."
A wave of murmurs swept through the group and Carter had to settle everyone down until Gerry could talk again.
"Covert! Cautious! Calculating!" Gerry pounded his fist into his hand, but the usual aggression of the gesture seemed lost. His brow furrowed as he stared out at the assembled audience, surveying them as if there were a lot more than eight people watching him. "Russia is a known hold-out of some of Le Conseil Cimme's most dangerous operatives; this is something we've known for years."
A tickle in my brain caused me to sit up straighter and the gears began turning. I remembered reading something similar, and had found it interesting that an organization supposedly staffed by vampires could be global. Russia was just the beginning: their influence stretched across Eastern Europe, through Germany and France and hopped the pond into the United States. All of the six populated continents were supposedly well represented.
Gerry's words seemed to have a profound effect on the other members. What had once been quiet attentiveness shifted to fluttering nervousness. Sam and Mia Ellis seemed especially worried, while Carter and Emma whispered in hurried tones.
Even a few months ago, I would have had a hard time not laughing, but the past two months had opened my eyes to some of the things people seemed to take seriously. I didn’t buy into what they were selling, but I had a certain amount of respect for how firmly they believed.
I looked at Harding, who gave me a single shrug. He leaned closer to me. "I'm left out of the loop on a lot of this. Gerry doesn't trust me."
"Wonder why? You have some 'splainin' to do. And I want you to start with Mitchell."
"That's my line, Lucy." He winked at me. "I'll fill you in. Promise."
I turned back to the stage and focused on Chris, still standing behind the podium. He was staring at the paper he'd brought with him while Gerry paced in front of the podium. He looked up after a few moments and cleared his throat again.
"I'm going to recommend we limit emails, texts and phone calls for awhile. At least among the group." His face blossomed with red blotches as he spoke, while Gerry nodded.
Another outburst from the group. Mia stood from her chair looking flustered and shaken. "This is exactly what they'd expect. We can't kowtow to what may not even be a real threat!"
I raised my eyebrows at Harding, biting my bottom lip as he gave me another shrug. The arguing continued around us, but I let it drown out for a minute. What a surreal place to be.
A piercing whistle quieted the rabble of voices. Carter had made his way to the podium and Gerry and Chris had stepped aside.
"Settle down."
I was watching a master at work; I knew it by the way he held his shoulders, by the assured tone of his voice. The whistle had been enough to lower the rabble to a din, but the near-whisper dropped the room into silence. Nathan Carter, despite the open forum for his merry band of conspirators, was the one running this show. That strange tingle flared up around my eyes again, and I pinched my eyelids shut as bursts of yellow clouded my vision. Of course. Perfect timing for a migraine.
"The news Chris and Gerry bring you tonight should come as no surprise. What we do here–what other groups like this do all over the country–is a threat to the power of these people. We will not back down, not for a second. We will not cower; we will not hide what we know. Each day, they grow more powerful and more dangerous. Each day, the balance tips further in their favor.
"Our main discussion tonight covers a sensitive topic, something many of you probably aren't even aware of. It's dangerous information to have, and it has come knocking at our own door. We will not sit idly by and wait to be absorbed by these power seekers. We will not be silenced by fear."
I expected applause, but the crowd remained quiet. As I looked around the room, every pair of eyes was on Carter. When I turned my focus back to him, eggplant purple flickered at the corners of my vision again. I blinked a few times, stunned at the feelings flooding the room. The resolution and the determination were palpable. Every ounce of focus, even my own, was centered on Carter.
Harding touched my shoulder, snapping my attention from the podium.
"What's going on?" The words were in my head, but I didn't know if they'd come out my mouth. Carter could have been casting a spell, his draw was so intoxicating.
"He should run for president," Harding whispered.
I turned my gaze to him, taking in his steady smile and bright, clear eyes. He seemed completely unaffected by the energy of the group. "That's a scary thought," I whispered back.
Another beat of the heavy silence passed before Carter's steely visage was replaced with an enchanting smile. "And we wonder why everyone thinks conspiracy theorists are lunatics."
I laughed along with everyone else, relieved the bizarre mood of the room had shifted to something lighter. The others visibly relaxed as Carter stepped from behind the podium. Gerry passed one of the folding chairs to him and he settled into it.
"Our latest information has revealed some startling information," Gerry said. "I'd like to break with tradition for a few minutes tonight. Emma?" He held his hand out, palm up, toward the older woman.
She bowed her head to him and stood, rearranging her long dress around her before lifting her head to acknowledge the group. "I believe many of you know my sister, Mrs. Ava Potter, is what many call a psychic." There were several nods throughout the group. She acknowledged them before moving on. "She's missing." Emma dropped into her seat and Mia patted her on the shoulder.
Gerry gave a single nod to Emma. "Mrs. Potter isn't the first paranormal we've heard of that's gone missing. Over the years, many others have disappeared. Clairvoyants, empaths, telepaths. We've even begun to hear rumors that other supernatural creatures are disappearing."
My attention wavered as my head began to spin. Paranormal humans? Supernatural creatures? It wasn't the first mention of them I'd heard in regards to Le Conseil Cimme, but Carter was beginning to outline a far more detailed involvement than I thought possible. Curiosity was overtaking any incredulity I'd had when we’d first arrived. Someone somewhere took this all very seriously and small pockets of people all over the country were drinking the kool-aid.
The audience raised questions, but my mind had wandered too far off the path to really absorb any of it. I snuck occasional glances over at Harding, who seemed enthralled by the various discussions. What's going on? The question was bouncing around in my head like it was equipped with moon boots and I was beginning to grow weary of the meeting.
Exactly as the agenda promised, Carter wrapped things up at 8:45, but both Harding and I declined to meet everyone for coffee at a diner up the street.
Carter bypassed his friends to catch us before he left. "Mitchell never joins us for coffee," Carter said, clapping a hand on Harding's shoulder. "I'm beginning to think he has a thing against caffeine."
Harding chuckled. "I promise - I've got nothing against caffeine. Couldn't survive without it."
"Oh, believe me,” I said. “The blame this time is squarely on my shoulders. I'm an old lady and it's past my bed time." I gave Carter my best bright smile, hoping he couldn't see through my lie. My discomfort was mounting and I was ready to get back to the normal world for a while. A place where people were people and vampires were the latest teenage fad. The very idea of such a place was overwhelmingly comfortable.
"Don't be afraid to join us again, Allie. We'd love to get to know you better." Carter held out his hand to me and I shook it, almost surprised I didn't shiver when he touched me.
"Count on it." I was on a roll now. Why stop with just one lie? Lies, damned lies, and statistics.
We exited the building quickly, after returning our agendas to Father McCullough. I gave the old priest a smile too, but it was real. Carter had creeped me out some, but the other members of the ParaLine group seemed well intentioned and kind.
As soon as we were a safe distance from the brick church, I spun to face Harding.
“You don't even have to ask." He held his hands up, palms toward me. "This is something I don’t want to be professionally associated with, that’s all. I have an interest and I like the people. Doesn't mean I'm going to run out and buy a cross and some holy water anytime soon.”
“Did you know I was bringing you here?”
“Actually, no. That really is ironic. I'd decided to skip this when you agreed to come to the city."
I was skeptical of all of this, but decided not to press further. For now. I took a deep breath of the warm air and smiled.
"It was better than I expected, even if Carter was a little weird."
"How do you even know him?"
"You saw. They're apparently fans. Fans. How weird is that?"
"For how long?"
I shrugged. "Since summer started. I wrote something online that caught their attention." Even though he now knew about my association with the group, I couldn't quite bring myself to tell him everything about the columns I wrote.
Harding's face belied his worry and I bristled.
"What's the problem?" I asked.
"There's no problem. I just hope you're being safe."
"Well, obviously, I am. You're a member of this little club or whatever."
He laughed. "I guess you really lucked out–" he cut off as his phone began to ring. He motioned me forward as he took the call and I went ahead. After a few minutes, he jogged back to me.
"I need to meet with a colleague for about an hour, if it's alright?"
"Can I still head to the apartment?"
"Absolutely. I've got time to take you there, and get settled. I'll only be an hour."
"I suppose I can live with that."
Chapter 10
BY THE TIME we reached the Meatpacking District, I’d set aside the weird parts of the meeting. It had been silly and strange, but I'd loved almost every minute of it.
When the cab stopped in front of a stark, gray warehouse, I tried to remember the last time I'd been to this part of the city. A year or more? Colin had loved it here; he loved any place that was trendy. I tried to erase thoughts of Colin from my head and was mostly successful. Counting steps, tracing the numbers that marked the address of the building–anything that might work.
"Are you sure people live here?" I asked, peering at the shadowed face of the building. "You're not bringing me here to kill me or anything, are you?"
"You're a very dark person, Allie," Harding replied, giving me a curious look. "I never kill people indoors. What's a sacrifice to the gods if they can't see it?"
"You've been spending too much time with Dr. Falchion, I see." I grinned at him as he held the door of the building open for me. Dr. Falchion, the chair of the Archaeology department, had long carried a torch for Harding.
Harding and I ascended in the old elevator without speaking, and I found myself drifting to thoughts of Colin again. We hadn't talked since that night–I hadn't even tried to call. I was still sad, though, still unsure of my footing. Slowly, things were starting to settle into some sort of plan again. Today had been a big step in my own recovery, and despite some of the weirder moments, I felt better than I had in months.
There was only one door in the hallway. Harding took a set of keys from his pocket and opened three dead bolts on the door marked '801'.
I expected the loft to be stark, perhaps even barren, but I was pleasantly surprised. The floor throughout was smooth, honey-colored bamboo and covered in places by large, thick rugs the color of fresh cream. As I stepped into the seating area clustered in front of the large windows, I caught the lights of the skyline that glittered over the rippling surface of the river. Incredible.
"It gets better." Harding's voice echoed in the cavernous loft. I heard the flick of a light switch and the view in front of my eyes changed as thousands of fairy lights sparked to life. The river became the backdrop to a rooftop patio with a bubbling hot tub, several chaise lounges and a large outdoor kitchen.
Harding came to stand next to me and chuckled. “Unbelievable, right?”
“All of it.” The décor was all flawless, luxuriant. It was honestly unlike any place I’d ever stayed.
“It pays to have friends in high places, I guess,” Harding said, crossing over to one of two sets of French doors in the apartment. “This is your room.” He directed me through the door, tapping his fingers against the frosted-glass panes.
The ceilings were lower than in the main room and a king bed dominated the far wall. Through an adjacent door, I spotted a private bathroom and nearly sighed in ecstasy at the large tub situated in the very middle of the room.
I floated out to the main living area again. Harding was standing in the industrial-grade kitchen when I returned from my tour of the loft. His laptop was open and he didn't look at me as I settled on a stool at the concrete-topped bar. “There’s wireless if you need it," he said, without looking up.
“Of course there is. Anything I’ve missed? Is there like a secret butler or massage therapy room or something?”
Harding laughed, shaking his head and lifting his view from the screen. “No, but there is an excellent stock of wine in the cabinet over there. Help yourself.”
I spun on the stool to face out to the rest of the apartment and was struck by something odd about the place. “Harding?”
“Hmm?” he said, again focused on his computer.
“Does anyone live here? I mean, there's no stuff. This place is like a hotel."
He looked distinctly uncomfortable when he first met my gaze, but his face smoothed before I could analyze him further. “I’m pretty sure he uses this place for visiting clients and whatnot."
I chuckled to myself. “Effective sales tool.”
“Indeed.” He had turned his attention back to the computer and looked mildly concerned.
"What are you looking at?" I asked. Nosey, nosey me.
“It’s getting later than I thought.” He closed the laptop and came around to my side of the kitchen island. “I need to head out. Will you be here or should I meet you somewhere?”
“I’ll be here.”
He crossed the kitchen to open a large, commercial refrigerator. After glancing inside, he closed the door and gave me an apologetic smile. “Unfortunately, there’s nothing in the refrigerator, but there's a bodega nearby. We can walk there later.”
“I should be fine." I had already formed concrete plans for the patio and a bottle of wine.
“Thanks for being so cool about this.”
I laughed him off. “Are you kidding me? Who could possibly be bothered by this?”
“Point taken. See you later,” he said as he left the loft.
I wandered over to the wine cabinet and took my time selecting a bottle of French wine. I figured it was one of the less valuable wines in the cabinet, but it was still something I’d never be able to afford.
I located the corkscrew and foil cutter in the impeccably organized kitchen and poured a glass before walking onto the patio. A light breeze swirled over the roof and I took deep breaths of the salty air. The events of the past month had sent my mind into a high gear of frustration and with each pull of the warm night air, I felt my thoughts shift down, ebbing closer to a more normal speed. It was my first weekend in the city without Colin in years and I was enjoying myself. I was completely at home in my own skin.
* * *
AFTER I POURED a second glass, I returned to the patio and grazed my fingers over the soft canvas chaise lounge. The potted flowers covering the patio scented the air: deep floral perfumes that drifted across the air in little currents, changing and twisting as I moved. I wandered to the opposite railing, my back to the apartment, and looked across the rooftops again.
"Good evening." A silky voice, with a soft Irish lilt, slid from the darkness.
I dropped my glass, sending a ruby spray of wine across the patio stones, and gasped when I saw the source of the voice. A slender man, dressed in a pair of khaki pants and an expensive-looking brown sweater, stepped closer to me. He was pale in the moonlight, sort of pearly and sickly, with brilliant red hair and unnaturally bright green eyes.
