"Dragos has been breeding a personal army of the most powerful, most deadly members of the race," Renata added. "They are raised under his watch, trained to be ruthless killers. Dragos's private assassins whom he can call out at any time to do his bidding."
Gabrielle nodded. "And in order to create those first-generation offspring, Dragos also needed a stock of fertile women on which to breed the Ancient."
"Breedmates," Alex said.
Jenna glanced at her. "And what are they?"
"Women who are born with unique DNA and blood properties that make them capable of sharing a life bond with members of the Breed and bearing their young," Tess said, her hand idly roaming over the top of her pregnant belly. "Women like all of us gathered around this table right now."
Shock and horror clenched Jenna's gut. "Are you saying that I--"
"No," Tess said, shaking her head. "You're mortal, not a Breedmate.
Your blood work is normal, and you don't have the mark that the rest of us do."
At her frown, Tess held out her right hand, which bore a small red mark between her thumb and forefinger. It was a tiny crescent moon with what looked to be a teardrop, falling into its center. "All of you have this same tattoo?"
"It's not a tattoo," Alex said. "It's a birthmark, Jenna. All Breedmates are born with one somewhere on their bodies. Mine is on my hip."
"There aren't a lot of us in the world," Savannah said. "The Breed considers all Breedmates to be sacred, but not Dragos. He's been collecting women for years, holding them captive, we assume for the sole purpose of birthing his Gen One assassins. A lot of them have been killed, either by Dragos himself or the Ancient."
"How do you know that?" Jenna asked, horrified by what she was hearing.
Down the table from her, Dylan cleared her throat. "I've seen them.
The dead, that is."
The cop part of Jenna perked to full attention. "If you've got dead bodies, you've got hard evidence, and probable cause to turn this asshole, Dragos, in to the authorities."
Dylan was shaking her head. "I haven't seen the bodies. I've seen the dead. They ... appear to me sometimes. Sometimes they speak to me."
Jenna didn't know whether to burst out laughing or hang her head in defeat. "You see dead people?"
"Every Breedmate has a particular talent or ability that makes her unique from any other," Tess explained. "For Dylan, that ability is a connection to other Breedmates who have died."
Renata leaned in, bracing her forearms on the edge of the table.
"Through Dylan's talent, we know for certain that Dragos is responsible for numerous Breedmate deaths. And through another friend of the Order, Claire Reichen, whose talent led us to actually locate Dragos's base of operation a couple months ago, we know that he is holding many more Breedmates prisoner. Since then, Dragos's operation has gone to ground.
Now the Order's primary mission--aside from taking the bastard out ASAP--
is to find his new headquarters and bring his victims to safety."
"We've been helping wherever we can, but it's hard to nail a moving target," Dylan said. "We can search missing persons reports online, looking for faces I recognize. And we run day missions to women's shelters, orphanages, flophouses ... anywhere we might get a lead on vanished young women."
Renata nodded. "Particularly those with possible ESP skills or other unusual capabilities that might hint at a potential Breedmate."
"We do what we can," Gabrielle said. "But we haven't caught a real break yet. It's like we're missing the key that will unlock the whole thing, and until we find that, all we're doing is chasing our own tails."
"Well, hang in there," Jenna said, that rusty old cop side of her sympathizing with the frustration of following go-nowhere leads.
"Persistence is often a detective's greatest ally."
"At least we don't have to worry about the Ancient anymore,"
Savannah said. "That's one less battle to be fought."
Around the breakfast gathering, a chorus of agreeing voices answered the statement.