"Some of it," Niko said. "I know that she trusts and respects you. I assume you've been here to help her a time or two before now."
"Tried, more like it. Renata never wanted help from me or from anyone else. Not for herself, anyway. But there were a lot of other kids she brought to my house for help. She couldn't stand to see a child in pain. Hell, she wasn't much more than a kid herself the first time she came around. Always kept to herself for the most part, a real loner. She doesn't have any family, you know." Nikolai shook his head. "No, I didn't know that."
"The Sisters of Benevolent Mercy raised her the first twelve years of her life. Her mother gave her up to the church orphanage when Renata was just a baby. She never knew either of her parents. By the time Renata was fifteen, she was already on her own, having left the nuns to live on the streets."
Jack walked over to a metal file cabinet that stood with some of the other stuff stored in the apartment. He fished a set of keys out of his jeans pocket and stuck one of them into the lock on the front of the piece. "Yessir, Renata was a tough little customer, even in the beginning. Skinny, wary, she looked like someone who would hardly stand up to a stiff breeze, but that girl had a spine of solid steel. Didn't take bullshit from anyone."
"Not much has changed there," Nikolai said, watching the old man pop open the bottom drawer. "I've never met a woman like Renata."
Jack looked over at him and smiled. "She's special, all right. Stubborn too. A few months before the last time I saw her, she showed up with a face full of bruises. Apparently some drunk rolled out of a bar and got the idea that he wanted some company for the night. He saw Renata and tried to shove her into his car. She fought him, but he got a few hard punches in before she was able to get away."
Nikolai cursed under his breath. "Son of a bitch should have been gutted for laying a hand on a defenseless female."
"That was my thinking too," Jack said, deadly serious, the protective soldier once more. He eased down into a squat and withdrew a polished wooden case from the file cabinet. "I taught her a few self-defense moves - basic stuff. Offered to send her to some classes on my dime, but of course she refused. A few weeks passed and she was back again, helping another kid with nowhere left to turn. I told her I had something for her - a gift I had made special for her. Swear to God, if you'd seen her face, you'd think she would rather have bolted into oncoming traffic than have to accept any kindness from someone."
Nikolai didn't have to work to imagine that look. He'd seen it once or twice himself since he'd met Renata. "What was your gift for her?"
The old man shrugged. "Nothing much, really. I had an old set of daggers I picked up in Nam. I took them to an artist fella I knew who worked with metals and had him customize the handles for me. He hand-tooled each of the four grips with a few of the strengths I saw in Renata. I told her they were the qualities that made her unique and would see her through any situation." "Faith, honor, courage, and sacrifice," Nikolai said, recalling the words he'd seen on the blades Renata seemed to treasure so much.
"She told you about the blades?"
Niko shrugged. "I've seen her use them. They mean a lot to her, Jack."
"I didn't know," he replied. "I was surprised that she accepted them in the first place, but I didn't think she'd still keep them after all this time." He blinked quickly, then busied himself with the box he'd pulled out of the file cabinet. He opened the lid and Niko caught the glint of dark metal resting inside the felt-lined case. Jack cleared his throat. "Listen, like I said before, I'm not going to press for details about what the two of you are involved in. It's clear enough that you're in some pretty big trouble. You can stay here as long as you need to, and when you're ready to go, just know that you don't have to leave here empty-handed."
He set the open box down on the floor in front of him and gave it a little push in Nikolai's direction. Inside were two pristine semiautomatic pistols and a box of rounds.
"They're yours if you want them, no questions asked."
Niko picked up one of the .45s and inspected it with an appreciative eye. It was a beautiful, well-tended Colt M1911. Probably military-issued weapons from his service time in Vietnam. "Thank you, Jack."
The old human warrior gave him a brief nod. "Just take care of her. Keep her safe."
Nikolai held that steady stare. "I will."
"Okay," Jack murmured. "Okay, then."
As he started to get up, someone shouted his name from outside in driveway. A second later, footsteps were pounding up the wooden stairs to the garage apartment.
Niko shot Jack a sharp look. "Does anyone know we're in here?"
"Nope. Anyway, that's just Curtis, one of my newer kids. He's fixing my dinosaur of a computer. Damn virus attack again."
Jack went over to the door. "He thinks I'm looking for a boot disk in here. I'll get rid of him. Meantime, if you think of anything else you two might need, you just ask."
"How about a phone?" Niko asked, replacing the pistol next to its mate.
Jack reached into his front pocket and pulled out a cell phone. He tossed it to Nikolai. "It should have a few hours of battery time. It's all yours."
"Thanks."
"I'll check in with you again later." Jack grabbed the doorknob and Nikolai backed into the shadows, as much a reflex because of the daylight outside as it was an effort to stay out of sight from the unwanted visitor who'd arrived at the top of the stairs. "Well, I was mistaken, Curtis. I checked everywhere and there's no disk in any of my boxes up here." Niko saw the other human's head trying to peer around the edge of the door as Jack closed it firmly behind him. There was a clopping shuffle of feet on the steps as Jack escorted the other human away.
Once he was certain they were gone, Nikolai dialed a remote access number that was maintained by the Order's Boston headquarters. He typed in Jack's cell phone number and a code that would identify him to Gideon, then waited for the callback.
Midday in a compound that housed a bunch of vampires was generally a dead zone of inactivity, but none of the seven warriors gathered in the weapons room of the Order's subterranean headquarters seemed to notice the time, not even the handful of them blessed enough to have loving Breedmates warming their beds. Since regrouping at the compound before daybreak, the warriors had kept themselves busy reviewing current mission statuses and laying out objectives for the night to come. Hashing out Order business for hours on end was nothing new, but this time there had been none of the usual good-natured smacktalk or joking squabbles over who was grabbing up the best assignments.
Now, a few yards away, at the area used for target practice, a quintet of pistols were being fired one after the other, paper bull's-eyes at the other end shredded into minuscule confetti. The compound's shooting range was used more for entertainment than necessity, since all of the warriors had dead-on aim. Even so, that never stopped any of them from testing one another and busting asses just to keep things lively.