The Head Isn't Going To Be Happy

"Use those you trust, trust those you use," I said as I looked at Greyson. He stiffly nodded his head and turned back around to face me.

"The kill that left a bad taste in your mouth, who gave the order?" I asked, trying to get to the bottom of things. If he was betraying Greyson then Greyson needed to deal with it, but, if it involved monsters, then I would need to let Viktor know. Either way, as soon as I got the information, I was washing my hands of it.

"What kill? What bad taste? Look, if you are going to pretend to be able to see into my past and future, at least read my palm first," snapped the man General Greyson called Jackson. I just stared at the guy.

His comments caused me to get my back up. There was nothing in this place that said 'gypsy' nothing outside and there was not a single person on this property that would tell him what kind of place this was. So why did he accuse me of pretending to see his past and future?

I turned to look at Greyson, one of my eyebrows raised. "What did you tell him?" I asked, my head cocked to the side. The longer this conversation went on, the more my ice cream melted so I was not interested in keeping this going for long.

Taking another bite of the peanutty goodness, I waited for Greyson to answer. "Nothing," he said as he stared at me. I could feel the truth in my bones. "Zaitsev was there in my office when I called you earlier. You said you needed the people that interacted with the red-eyed thing in order to figure out what it was, and I told Zaitsev to bring them."

"So, nothing about me being a Gypsy?" I asked as I sat back in my chair. The tub of ice cream was nestled in my hands over top of my chest.

"Absolutely not," Greyson confirmed as he turned his attention away from me and back to the soldier in the shadows. "And if that was the case, then why would he make a comment as if you were a fraud looking into a crystal ball?"

"Kind of what I want to know too," I admitted. "Last chance Jackson, who do you report to?"

The stubborn man pushed his lips into a thin line and refused to say anything. Fine. Let's play then.

"Corporal Reid Marcus Jackson, expert ranked sniper for the United States Army Special Forces Alpha Team. Alpha, sure… anyways. Aged 32. Height 6'5". Weight 213 lbs. Born in Jackson, Mississippi to Barbara Jackson, nee Smith, and Mathew Jackson. Graduated top of your class in high school but entered the military in order to pay for medical school. Graduated top of your class at Harvard Medical School, congrats, that couldn't have been easy. You double as both the sniper and the medic of your unit even though I am sure you are grossly overqualified for both."

I watched the man not even flinch as I listed a brief glimpse of his life. "Any questions about your past?" I asked sarcastically.

"I am sure that the General provided you with a file on all of us before this meeting," replied Jackson with a shrug of his shoulder. Well, you don't get into one of the top schools in the country because you were a moron and you definitely don't graduate in the top 1% either.

"No, but that is a great idea." I turned to look at the General sitting on the other side of my desk. "Next time you come, let Stephanie know who you will be bringing or provide us with a file on them first. You might prefer giving me the files rather than me getting the information myself. I tend to get more in-depth when I am looking things up. "

Greyson nodded his head. "Will do."

"Back to you," I sighed looking at Jackson. Stretching my neck from side to side to ease the tightness, I opened my mouth, "Will you answer the question? Who are you reporting to?"

"Shouldn't you already know the answer to that?" he smirked, not believing for a minute that I had the information.

"I do, I just thought that you would prefer to tell the General yourself before you shot me in the head."

----

Greyson sat upright at Natalia's words as she spoke about getting shot in the head like it was no big deal. He snapped his head around to look at the man from his best team only to see him raising a handgun and pointing it at the only woman in the room.

There was a crack of thunder as a red hole appeared between Natalia's eyebrows and she slumped against the chair, her ice cream falling to the floor and rolling under the desk as blood and brain matter flowed everywhere.

Greyson stood up and took out his gun pointing it to the man that he had brought. The other two men in the room also took out their guns and pointed them at the sniper. Jackson didn't move, just slowly holstered his weapon and held his hands out to the side.

All of a sudden, the office door opened and Stephanie came hurrying in. Seeing what was going on, she picked up her phone and dialed a number. "Lock the mansion down. No one comes in or out until notified otherwise. The Van Helsing will be the only exception to the rule. And get a few cartons of chocolate peanut butter ice cream too. The Head is going to be pissed."

Greyson snapped his attention over to Stephanie. "'The Head is going to be pissed'? This fucker just killed her!"

Before Stephanie could answer, Jackson spoke up. "It's fine, Sir. General Richards has this planned and will be arriving soon in order to take over the situation. This woman was too much of a liability to be allowed to remain as Head."

"So she was right, you are reporting to someone else," growled Zaitsev not happy that someone on his team, someone that he trusted to watch his back was taking orders from someone else.