Riven (Mirus 2)

The first blow landed clean, eliciting a muffled grunt before hands came up to block. The dance was quick, silent, an all but dead-even match that ended nearly as fast as it had begun when Ian recognized his opponent. He caught the next punch, wrapping his hand around the fist and demanded, “What the hell are you doing, Matthias?”

Ian’s former ops commander stepped back. “Tracking you. Your trail runs all over this goddamned neighborhood. What the hell are you doing following a human?”

Busted. Given he’d been trailing her for weeks, his path would run parallel to hers. “Maintaining my skill set. She’s easy on the eyes.”

“And you intercepted me because…”

“I thought you were after her.”

“And that matters why? You’re not enforcement.”

Ian lied without batting an eye. “The last thing we need in the vicinity of the safe house is humans being preyed on by our kind. Brings too much attention. I didn’t know it was you.” He dismissed his suspicions. Matthias had even less reason to be following Marley than he did.

Matthias nodded in approval. “Thorough. Not that I expected anything less. C’mon. I’ll buy you a drink, and we’ll talk.”

Ian wondered what the hell they had to talk about, but he followed without further question.

Twenty minutes later, Matthias plunked a bottle of Jack Daniels and a pair of glasses onto a scarred wood tabletop and slid into the chair beside it. Each of them faced one wall of the back corner of the bar, and each made practiced sweeps, cataloging the other seventeen people in the place. It was a second shift crowd, a working man’s bar. And every one of them was human. Which meant Matthias didn’t want to be overheard.

Ian accepted the glass of whiskey, idly opening his senses to skim off the frustration, depression and other malaise that lingered around them. “What are you really doing here?”

“Checking up to see if you’ve gone bat shit crazy yet, for one. You haven’t lost your edge.”

Ian paused, the glass inches from his lips. They both knew that for a lie. If he hadn’t lost his edge, he’d still be in the field, not stuck in this hellhole. He took a sip and waited.

“You seen any Underground activity since you’ve been here?”

Ian’s injured leg gave a yowl, as if insulted by the reminder of the group that had knocked him out of active duty. “If I had, you know it would’ve been in my reports. Why? Have there been rumblings about expected terrorist activity?”

“No more than usual. Just a routine question.”

“There’s nothing routine about your presence, Matthias. Checking on me isn’t part of your duties.”

“I’d like to think the men under my command, past and present, are more than merely duties.”

It took more than a century of missions and a fifth of good scotch to make Matthias a friend. Clearly Ian’s expression said as much, because Matthias sighed.

“Fine, I’ll cut to the chase. Given you seem in full possession of your faculties, I’m here to offer you a job.”

That got his attention. Ian didn’t show his interest though. He took another lazy sip of scotch. “I’m no pencil pusher.”

“Unless said pencil is being pushed into someone’s carotid, I’m inclined to agree. You’re wasted here.”

No shit, Sherlock. But still, Ian said nothing, waiting for the other man to show his hand.

“With a record as exemplary as yours, I have advised the Council to reconsider your duty status.”

Despite his training, Ian felt his pulse jump in anticipation and something that held the bittersweet taste of hope. “And you suggested what alternative, exactly?” As much as he wanted to be back on active duty, he wasn’t willing to

risk the lives of his brothers in arms for the sake of his pride.

“Promotion to ops commander.”

Ian choked on his drink, too flustered to care as he coughed and tried to clear his throat. “I don’t think I heard you right.”

“You can’t be in the thick of things because of your leg, but there’s not a goddamned thing wrong with your brain. You’re an exceptional strategist. The Council would be foolish not to take advantage of that fact.”

Never in his wildest imaginings had Ian ever considered that his being benched by injury would lead to a promotion, let alone one of this caliber.