Brockle was a CIA double-agent: a traitor and a spy. If Erin didn’t know she was a target it was only through dumb luck. The target on her back had grown when the first two teams had failed to complete their mission. Only a few understood how that could be. Myles understood. Eliminating the threat Erin posed was not a quick in-and-out job, like most of the CIA thought it should be.
Men and women didn’t crowd around her for no reason. Her charm was magnetic, her charisma, magical. Myles had tried explaining that, but no one had seemed to understand. Erin was a Siren – capable of ensnaring anyone and creating legions of devoted followers.
Jamie bowed to a couple who walked by. Both were famous; both were nominated for awards. The man, in a crisp white tuxedo, gave him a half-bow while his partner offered the men a wide smile.
“He’s shorter in person,” Myles said.
Jamie grinned.
Erin moved closer to where the two stood against a wall. Though the cadre of people surrounding her did not perceptibly shrink, it fanned out like boat wake.
“Ms. Brockle!” Jamie shouted.
Myles flinched behind his glasses at the unexpected noise. His face became stiff as he fought a scowl.
Jamie waved at Erin and Myles stepped on his foot.
She broke away from her followers and moved toward Myles and Jamie. Myles sighed. Jamie shuffled his feet, still grinning. Behind her, Erin’s crowd of admirers hung back, looking at Jamie, curious and offended that he had interrupted their tete-a-tete.
“Ms. Brockle,” Jamie said once more, stepping forward to greet her. “May I introduce you to Colonel Asher Thompson.”
Erin’s bright cerulean eyes creased as she smiled. She held out one neatly gloved hand and after a moment Myles stuck out his own, waiting for her take it.
“Colonel,” she said, moving towards him. “An honor.”
Erin’s voice was deep and soothing. She had a voice for radio; it resonated and brushed over everything. Erin’s hand closed around Myles’.
“The pleasure is all mine, Ma’am,” Myles said, giving her a slight bow.
Erin laughed. Myles saw Jamie lean in close to Erin, succumbing to her magic. Myles stared at him behind the glasses, appalled. Jamie had been chosen above his other team members because he was the least receptive to such things. Myles thought Jamie might try a bit harder to resist – knowing what she was.
“I don’t dance, Ms. Brockle, but perhaps you would be kind enough to walk with me a bit?”
“It would be my pleasure, Colonel,” Erin said, tucking herself up beside him.
“You may wait here, Mr. Bowling,” Myles said to Jamie. Jamie had started after the pair of them and Myles’ words forced him back against the wall.
As they walked Erin asked him all manner of questions regarding his military service, what he thought of Los Angeles, the movies up for awards and the early spring weather. To each question Myles had a ready answer: he wasn’t allowed to discuss much of his service; he didn’t care for the city; he was partial to an underdog; he appreciated the warmth.
Erin was used to getting answers – people fell under her spell and spoke with equally chilling indifference about secrets of national security and baseball. Her magic let everyone share their thoughts without inhibitions.
They reached the string quartet and were silent for a moment. Myles looked down at her smiling face. She was much smaller than him; he loomed over her, yet she felt no fear of him. Myles ached to snap her neck and be done with it. But there were people and there was protocol. Instead, he smiled and lied.
Once they made a complete circuit of the party Myles leaned down and brushed her ear with his lips. “I would love a private moment with you, Erin.”
She giggled and began to lead him across the room to a wall of closed oak doors.
Myles caught sight of Jamie through the crowd as he moved away from the wall and began to follow them along the edge of the crowd. When they reached the doorway, Myles looked down at Erin and glanced quickly back into the crowd for Jamie. He was still moving slowly toward the room, mingling, smiling.
Erin closed the door, shutting out the party. Tall windows lined one wall. A sitting area was centered on a large, ornate rock fireplace filled with high flames. An antique cherry writing desk sat next to a sideboard with clean glasses and a cabinet high-quality liquor.
“May I get you a drink, Colonel?” Erin asked, leading Myles further into the room.
“Yes, please,” Myles said.
Erin left him standing next to a futuristic white leather couch. Wool area rugs separated the seating in front of the fire from a chaise lounge and leather chair and ottoman in front of the windows. The décor clashed – it was a harsh juxtaposition between the modern elements and the rustic and antique pieces. The windows were half shielded by thick curtains, but through the waving glass, dim lights could be seen in the distance.
Erin carefully placed a tumbler of whiskey in Myles’ hand and then led him forward to the edge of the sofa. She sat on the edge of an adjacent chair, her ankles crossed and tucked behind her slightly. Myles sat down across from her.
“What can I do for you, Colonel?” Erin asked, sipping her own drink.
Myles heard all the implications of her question and smiled at her before sipping his own. “I understand you are in the business of information, Ms. Brockle.”
Her laugh was delicate. It was barely a whisper, a sound to draw those around her closer. Myles leaned toward her slightly, his head tilted in curiosity. He tried not to grip the glass too tightly.
“Please, call me Erin,” she said with a giggle. “I’m in the business of entertaining, Colonel.”
Myles smiled again and saw Erin tease him with a smirk. He did not care about getting a confession from her. The Agency didn’t require one – they had enough evidence to order her termination as a threat to national security. Myles didn’t feel the need to justify his work by acquiring one on his own. This mission was the last step before execution. The other teams had rushed, only to be sucked into Erin’s magical vortex and unable to complete the mission. Myles felt confident that would not happen to him.
Outside the door, the floor creaked and Myles tilted his head toward it a bit, listening. Jamie would have positioned himself near the door, but it was unlikely he would make any noise.
The unexpected presence of the vampires put him on edge. In all their reconnaissance of Erin, they’d never once seen a hint of vampire. It was a complication he hadn’t planned for.
It was possible the vampires were a separate contingency – Myles hoped that was the case – but he never counted on the odds of Faere creatures running in unrelated circles. If there were vampires in the mansion, they were there with Erin.
“Isn’t entertainment the finest way of conveying information?” Myles asked, smelling his whiskey before taking a drink. The flavor was rich; the drink expensive and old.
Erin sipped her whiskey. “Indeed,” she grinned. “it may be.”
The floor outside the room creaked again and the door banged open, slamming into the wall behind it. Erin jumped to her feet in surprise. Her navy mid-calf dress shimmered as she moved. Myles jerked toward the sound.
Jamie stood in the doorway, looking stunned by his own actions.
“Who is it?” Myles asked.
Two shadows moved in behind Jamie, ushering him into the room.
“Your assistant,” Erin said, and Myles heard a hard, cold veil fall over her normally soft words. “And some friends of mine. Agnes and Alvin Whitehall, please meet Colonel Asher Thompson.”
Myles stood, keeping his face expressionless. Jamie’s shoulders were hunched and he took two quick steps into the room, putting space between himself and the Whitehalls. Myles put his glass down on the table next to the sofa and nodded. “My assistant, Mr. Bowling.”
The couple were dressed fashionably in expensive clothing. Agnes was shorter with plump cheeks and bright, dark eyes. Her skin was ebony black and her ruby gown accentuate
d the cool blue undertones of her skin. Alvin was likewise dark, though nearly as tall as Myles, with thick arms.
“Perhaps we can continue this another time?” Myles suggested.
Myles saw Erin scowl, but she smiled at him and said, “There is nothing you cannot say in front of Alvin and Agnes, Colonel. They are my assistants.”
Myles didn’t care for Erin’s description of the vampires. Jamie shuffled his feet and Myles met his gaze behind the dark glasses. Jamie inclined his head infinitesimally and turned away to take in the art.
“Colonel?” Erin asked, stepping close to him and laying her hand on his arm.
Myles wanted to throw her hand off him, but he let it linger. Erin did not know it, but the only person in the room susceptible to her magic was Jamie. Myles watched his shoulders relax and his partner lost his wariness as Erin’s soothing magic washed over him. Myles forced himself to relax as well, to let Erin think he was under her spell.
He and Jamie would outlive the Cold War. While eliminating Erin Brockle was important to national security, avoiding killing the vampires was paramount to his and Jamie’s long-term survival. Vampires took the deaths of their kind very personally.
“Come, Colonel,” Erin laughed, turning him away from the vampires, who hovered halfway in the room, unwilling to come closer, but unwilling to leave either.
“It is something of a private matter, is all,” Myles apologized, looking down at her and smiling. “It is nothing urgent; it can wait.”
“What do you want?