Page 151 of Red Rooster

Jake had wanted to be a soldier since he was a four-year-old playing with little green army men. Had watched every documentary he could – at least up until his mother had shooed him from the TV, insisting he would have nightmares. He’d read Sun Tzu, and Nietzsche; Rommel and Patton. Read about Caesar, and Napoleon; and Ivan the Terrible…and the man who’d inspired him: Vlad Tepes.

Jake had been introduced to him right before they left for the mission. He still wasn’t over it.

Vlad stood with his hands clasped loosely behind his back, a human – ornothuman – wall blocking their path. His eyes fixed to Ramirez in a way that had her hand tightening on Jake’s jacket again. “She’s injured.”

“No shit,” Jones said with a snort. “That’s why we’re taking her to medical. If you’ll get out of the way.”

Vlad lingered a moment, making a point. Then stepped back just enough to let them pass and fell in behind them.

Goosebumps broke out down the back of Jake’s neck, and he fought the urge to shiver.

It was a long walk to the exam rooms, and thankfully a nurse hustled forward to meet them with a wheelchair. “Here, honey,” she said, motherly. “Hop in and we’ll get you to a trauma suite.”

Ramirez, white-lipped and sweating profusely now, finally gave up the stoic act and let Jake ease her down into the chair. She made a small, pained sound when her leg was jostled, and Jake felt something like a stirring of emotion.

A black-clad guard appeared. “Major Treadwell, Dr. Talbot would like to see you for your debriefing now.”

“I have an injured teammate.”

“It has to be now, he said.”

“I’ll accompany her,” Vlad said, and Jake thought his own bug-eyed look was only rivaled by Ramirez’s.

Jake glanced over at the…theprince. “You don’t need to do that.”I don’t want you to, you fucking creep.

Vlad gave him a level, impossible to read stare. “Still,” he said. “You can go.” And he turned to follow the wheelchair as the nurse pushed it toward the mouth of the exam room hallway.

Jake heaved a sigh and turned to Jones – who was already walking away, toward the locker rooms. “Alright,” he told the guard. “Let’s get this over with.”

He expected to find Dr. Talbot in his office, half-hidden behind his massive desk. Instead, the guard led him through the maze of taped-down power cables and work stations to a lab setup where a teenage boy in white pajamas sat on a steel table. His too-long white-blond hair fell in his eyes, and he held a bundle of cotton batting inside the crook of his elbow, stemming the bleeding from a needle prick. The pale, long-haired man Jake had glimpsed before, a straight-nosed, skinny sort in a red leather jacket who would have looked more at home backstage somewhere, stood behind the table, arms folded, watching Dr. Talbot with half-veiled contempt.

This place was crawling with weirdos.

Jake came to a halt and cleared his throat. “You want to see me, doctor?”

Dr. Talbot glanced up – he was sliding vials of blood into a centrifuge – and smiled when he saw Jake. “Welcome back, Major Treadwell.”

“Can we make this quick? I need to check on Ramirez.”

Dr. Talbot waved dismissively. “I’m sure Adela will be fine. I think I saw Vlad with her.”

That’s the problem, Jake thought, grinding his teeth.

“Just give me a moment here,” the doctor continued. “I told Agent West we would meet him in my office.”

Jake glanced over at the boy and found that he was being watched, ice-blue eyes peering out at him through a screen of pale hair. Nothing about the look was human.

The other one, Mr. Leather Jacket, studied him too, nostrils flared. He was the one who spoke: “You smell like fire.”

Jake thought of Ruby Russell wreathed in flame, wind bending the tree trunks. He didn’t answer.

The blond one growled, and it wasnothinglike the sort of growl a man might make in his throat.

Jake said, “What?” to keep from starting in shock.

Leather Jacket turned a hostile gaze toward Dr. Talbot’s back. “There’s a mage here.”

“Yes,” Talbot said, mildly, clicking down the lid of the centrifuge. “There is.”