Sui Generis – 24

 

"Good evening."

The man who spoke—Ulrik, Brand presumed—stood at the far side of the kitchen. There was something vaguely familiar about him, although Brand couldn't put his finger on what it was. He seemed older than the others, at least in appearance. Brand would have guessed around thirty-five. His hair was dark blond, cut short, and he had a mustache, but otherwise was clean shaven.

"Evening," Brand replied, eyeing him. "You're Ulrik?"

"I am." Ulrik bowed his head briefly in acknowledgment. He smiled a bit wickedly. "How quickly you forget—kid."

It took a moment to sink in then Brand muttered, "Shit."

"What's wrong?" Mag asked, stepping defensively in front of Brand.

"It's okay," Brand told him, moving beside him, resting one hand on his shoulder. "Ulrik here is an old… friend, I guess you could say. Although last time I saw him he looked older and dirtier and hairier, to put it mildly. And…" He shook his head. "He called himself John."

"No way! I met John a couple of times. No way are you him," Mag said determinedly. "He was an old man."

"Middle-aged, thank you very much," Ulrik replied, "and it was an act. Anyone can seem older than they look if they put their mind to it. It's all in the attitude."

"And the clothes, and the hair and…" Antton chuckled. "Ulrik is quite good at that, when necessary."

"But why?" Brand wanted to know.

"When I met you the first time, I was searching for a rogue—not Fedor. We had no idea he was anywhere within a thousand miles of the city. You seemed like a good kid and having you hanging around sometimes made my cover more complete. I knew what you were, so I figured if nothing else, you might spot the vamp I was after and your actions would give me a heads-up."

Curious, Brand asked, "Did I?"

"Nope. Found him all on my lonesome, called in the troops, and now he's history. That was maybe a week after you vanished. If I'd paid more attention, I might have figured out sooner that there was more to you not being around than met the eye. By the time I did, it was too late. I reported it to the council, given what you are. They put us—" he thumbed toward the other Enforcers, "—in charge of finding out if your disappearance was by choice or otherwise."

Mag snapped his fingers. "That's why you found me and asked that night."

"Yep. I figured if anyone would know, it would be you, as close as the two of you were. When you said Brand had taken off without telling you where or why, that pretty much cinched it, as far as we were concerned. After that, it was an all-out hunt for him."

"With no luck," Dante added, "until I ran into an old friend. He said there was a rumor that Fedor had surfaced long enough to grab someone new for his experiments."

"And that he'd been hiding somewhere in this area," Vesper said. "At first we figured the most logical place would be in the mountains." He smiled wryly. "Do you have any idea how many abandoned towns and mine sites, as well as caves, there are up there?"

"Too many," Randulf grumbled.

"And here he had me hidden right in the city," Brand muttered miserably.

Antton nodded. "We did have some of our sources keeping an ear and an eye open for anything that said that was possible, but it's a big city—what with all the suburbs."

"A big city, lots of mountains… how the hell did you think it would be possible to find him, even if he was still here and not halfway across the world?" Mag asked angrily.

Ulrik shrugged. "Luck?"

"How did you know I'd escaped, and why didn't you show up as soon as you found out?" Brand looked between the men questioningly. "No, never mind. I think I know the answer. I started looking for Mag, and you figured Fedor would come looking for me. Right?"