Full Moon Rising - 02 (9 page)

Mueller watched the SEALs set up the work station and blast area and elbowed Marshall who was standing next to him.  “You think these squids know what the fuck they’re doing?”

“Dude, if
anybody
knows bombs, it’s fucking SEALs.” He said.

“Sweet.”  He said.  “So.  Want to get a sandwich while they figure out who gets the assignment?”

“Hell yeah.  I’m starving.”

*****

“Tasha!”  Matt was holding her, gently tapping at her cheeks.  “Tasha!  Come back to me.  Come on, I know you’re in there.”

Natashia’s eyes fluttered open and darted about the room.  She pulled herself to a sitting position and rubbed at her head.  “Did I fall?”

“You started to, but I caught you.” Matt said.  “How are you feeling?” he handed her a glass of water.

She took it and sipped at it.  She rubbed her head gingerly.  “I feel as though I struck my head.  It truly hurts.”  She said.  “Please, help me to stand.”

Matt got up and helped lift her.  She could feel her head swoon, but it soon passed.  “You were yelling about something coming, but…I couldn’t make it out.  Not really.”

“I do not remember.” She said honestly.  “The last I reme
mber was speaking with your wolf of your mate and he was upset about the darkness.”  She looked up at him.  “He knows that it comes and he knows you are all at risk.”  She closed her eyes and slowly lowered herself to her chair.

“You said something about an escargot coming.  Does that mean anything to you?”

“Non.  It means nothing.” She sighed.  “Perhaps your mate knows.”

“My mate was killed by a wolf years ago.” He said flatly.

“Non.  She is close.  She still lives.  Behind a wall of ice.”  Natashia said softly.  “I am not sure how this is, but your wolf showed me.”

Matt’s features turned to stone.  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She looked up at him, her brows creasing.  “Colonel, you may be a great leader, but you are a horrible liar.”

“I think we’re done here.  I’ll have somebody take you back to your daughter as soon as you feel up to it.”

“You are welcome.” She said.

Matt turned to her.  That was an unexpected reply.  “For helping you make peace with your wolf.  You will no longer need to poison yourself to ease your pains.”

Matt stiffened.  He had forgotten his manners.  “Yes, thank you.” And he stepped out of the room. 

Shortly after he left, a young man in uniform knocked at the door.  “Ma’am?  I’m here to escort you back to your daughter.”

“Thank you.”  She stood and left the way they had come.  Although she could smell the colonel’s scent throughout the hallway, she knew that he had left quickly.  She feared that her revelation to him upset him in more than one way.

7

Laura Youngblood went over the secondary confirmation and verified the sighting.  The vamps in northern California.  Laura turned to Spalding, “Spanky, you’re up.  Get Third Squad mobile and move out.”  She handed him the file as he cracked a grin. 

“About damned time.  All this sitting around is for the birds.” He said.  He thumbed through the file and then tucked it under his arm as he rounded the corner.

Laura turned to the young Captain at her side, “Who’s the Command Duty Officer tonight?”

“Captain Jones, ma’am.” He replied.

Jackson Jones.  A seasoned veteran for CDO.  “Good.  Get him prepped and on the flight with Third Squad.  They’ll be going out on a C-130 and dropping in.  He can coordinate from the plane.  Have them take one of the new drones with them, just in case.  Make sure they have a tech team with them.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

With Jackson acting in her place from the C-130, she was free to act in Mitchell’s place with the other two squads if and when they were deployed.  She could run both ops from the Operational Command Center below the hangar.  She made a note in her logs and went up a flight of stairs to the hangar.  She supervised the loading of crates onto the pallets and watched the forklift place it into the back of the open deuce and a half.  Third Squad loaded in the back of the truck and dropped the canvas flap to cover and hide both their gear and themselves as the truck pulled out of the hangar.

“It has begun.” She stated.  She set the response clock on her clipboard and noted the time of departure in her log.  “Good hunting fellas.  And lady.”  As she reminded herself that Sanchez was amongst the hunters in Third Squad. 

“Where are they headed, boss lady?” Apollo asked.

“California.  Baby vamps tearing it up over there.”

“Sweet.  Maybe my baby will bring me back some tacos!” he said with a toothy grin.

Across his earpiece Sanchez shot back, “I’m nobody’s b
aby!”

“Shit!” he whispered.  He turned to Laura.  “Left my lip mic on.”

“Switch to another frequency there, Apollo.” Came Spalding across the earpiece.

“Uh, Roger, that, Spankmeister.” Apollo blushed.

“She rip you a new one?” Laura asked.

“Yeah, but you know she’s just playing.  That girl loves me.  She’s my baby.” He said grinning.

“Your mic is still on, shithead.” Spanky said.  “And we’re about to have to tie Sanchez down if you don’t switch freqs dude.”

“Fuck.”  Apollo grabbed the unit from his belt and keyed the mic, “Roger that.”  He switched the frequency.  He looked at Laura and sighed.  “Yeah.  She gonna kick my ass when she gets back.” He turned and walked away and Laura could only smile and shake her head.  The idea of Sanchez, barely a
third
the size of Apollo having that much control over the hulking monstrosity of a man…yeah, it was sweet.

*****

“I’m afraid I don’t understand, old friend.”  Foster paced within the walls of an abandoned warehouse, his semi trucks parked side by side and his people unpacking their belongings in the wide open spaces behind him.  “Why will you not simply come to the mainland and meet with me?  We have all the creature comforts of home here.”

Paul knew exactly why Rufus would not come to the mai
nland.  He could sense the intrusion of Foster’s people into his territory.  He knew there was an army of Humanus vampires within striking distance to himself and within the drawn boundaries of his familial kingdom.  Although he was expecting them, and a blood alliance was proposed, the alliance had yet to be drawn out and sealed with the blood.  Foster could turn against him at any time and with the sheer numbers he had brought, Rufus was no fool.  Thorn could not keep his people all on the island, so he had to allow them to scatter about on the mainland.  Foster would not allow Rufus to know
exactly
where he was, otherwise, those same people could surround him and simply burn them out.  He was still hoping the alliance could take place and the Apacolypto could be averted.

“I do not go to the mainland unless absolutely necessary, Foster.”  Thorn said.  “Trust me on this.  If you truly desire a blood alliance with the Lamia Beastia, you will come to me.”  His voice left no room for negotiating.  “I have a boat at the dock for you.  One of my wolves will be there for you at su
ndown.  I will forward the dock number to your phone.” And with that he simply disconnected.

Foster did not like it, but he had little choice.  He had very little time until sundown and even less time to prepare.  His phone chimed with a text message giving him the dock and slip number that the boat would be found.  He snapped his fingers for his body guards and had them prepare.  If Thorn wanted to fina
lly get his revenge after all these centuries, he’d have to go through them first and they were the best of the best.

Meanwhile, approximately thirty miles deep in the Gulf at Thorn’s island, Rufus had his study prepared.   A scribe was put on stand-by with parchment and quill.  His best calligrapher and fastest pen, she could inscribe an Italian argument of two fam
ilies and never miss a syllable.  Security was put in place along the perimeter of the few vampires that he had available and the wolves prepared themselves for the shift.  Most locked themselves into their specially made, silver reinforced stalls, while others, the more senior wolves chose to take to the woods for a hunt.  The woods were on the far side of the island and far enough from the docks to not interfere with Foster’s arrival, nor had the wolves ever tried to attack a vampire before, so his arrival and departure should be uneventful.

The watchtower would be manned with the youngest of the vampires with long-range binoculars to search out watercraft that might try to follow Thorn’s.  He would have vampires along the water’s edge with crossbows and rifles with silver bullets in case any attempted to overrun the meeting.  If Foster attempted anything tonight, it would be the last mistake he ever made.

Thorn tugged slightly at the heavy drapes hanging from the easterly windows.  It was getting very dark outside, but clearly, the sun had not set yet.  He could see reflections on the water of yellows and oranges and shades of red through the slight crack.  He let the heavy material fall back into place.  It was time for him to prepare himself.  He needed to dress to impress.

*****

The air in Rome was heavy with humidity, and the sounds of people partying the night away had died away hours before.  The dark vampire who haunted the abandoned cathedral by night rarely crept out of it anymore.  His meals were brought to him by those who served him.  He preferred well fed females with soft curves.  They were easier to sink his nails into when he fed.  And, he hated to admit, it just seemed wrong to touch his lips to the skin of another man.  Although he had done it many times in the past when he found himself hungry enough, it just seemed more sinful than feeding from women.

He often sat in the darkness, peering out the broken wi
ndows at the moon and reflected on his long and ancient life.  The many ways he had tried to reverse the curse on his life.  He’d tried so many things.  None worked.

He’d tried to baptize himself in the river Jordan.  He’d tried to renounce his sins and beg God to forgive him.  He’d tried H
oly Water.  He’d tried absolution by a priest, sitting for hours in a confessional until the priest left screaming in terror.  He’d tried forcing himself into the sunlight…but the sunlight
did
burn.  Like the fires of Hell, it scorched him and seared his flesh to the very bone until he thought he could never be made whole again.  But as soon as he gave in to the thirst, he
was
made whole, and began his torment all over again.  Holy water, crosses, religious dogma from all denominations did nothing but incite his rage now.

He stepped to the window of the upper floor of the cathedral and looked out over his city.  This Roman city is all that was left of a once great empire that spanned the known world. 
Oh, how the mighty have fallen,
he thought.  They had tormented and tortured and crucified their way across all the lands, breaking the will and the spirit of any they encountered.  They deserved him and all that he would bring.

“Sicarii?  You sent for me, master?” the small messenger inquired.

“Sì, Puppet.  I need for you to do me another thing.” The vampire said, his gaze never leaving the window.

“Anything, Sicarii.  You need only to ask…”

“My vision…our new world…it will take many hands to mold properly.  When we finally send word to all of the familia, inform them that we will also have need of their familiars.”

“Sicarii?  I do not follow you.” The messenger said, hones
tly puzzled.

“We will have much opposition from the humans, Puppet.  Many of them will have weapons that our vampire brothers simply cannot recover from quickly.  And we are limited to the night.” He explained.  “But our brother’s familiars are men who walk about during the day.”  He turned to the messenger.  “They can lay our groundwork by the light of day and prepare for our coming.  They can do things that we will not be able to do.  We must have them to ensure that we are successful.”

“As you wish, Sicarii.  But, how do we find them?” he asked.

“They will come to us.” He said softly.  “You will need to make arrangements to bring them to me.  I will work out the necessary arrangements with them.”

“They will come to us, master?”

“Oh, yes.  Many will come with their vampire masters, ot
hers will come on their own, just for the opportunity to perhaps one day join in our ranks.”  The dark vampire said.  “We have struck a vital blow all across the world at these human hunters.  And we did it using everything at our disposal.  Vampire, goblin, the
regius lupus,
the ‘royal wolves’ who can shift at day…we strike them with terror and the hunters never saw it coming.  The familiars are a very important part to our plan.”

The messenger’s eyes lit with understanding.  “Yes, Sicarii.  We will make arrangements for their arrival.”

“Good.” He stepped down from the window and almost appeared to float from the second story to the crumbling floor below.  “Now, as for the familia that could not be reached before?  Have you a list for me?”

“It is being compiled, Sicarii.  Not all of our field people have checked in tonight.” The messenger’s eyes were upon the floor again.

“Very well.” The dark one said.  “Before sunrise.  Yes?”

“As you wish.” He bowed and backed out of the room.

The dark vampire turned and faced the altar once more.  He stared up at the depiction of Christ on the cross.  “He didn’t look like that.” He mumbled.  “If they really knew how terribly he looked, they’d never put a crucifix in a church.”

The dark vampire that his minions called Sicarii stepped out of the comfort of the cathedral to the courtyard within the church.  His mind washed him back to the days of his youth.  He had been a young assassin.  What would be called a terrorist by today’s media.  His true name, long forgotten by others, was J
udah.  He hailed from Kerioth, a small town south of Judea.  He grew up the son of a goat herder, spending his days helping his father tend the goats and doing chores for his mother.  He was their only son.  He remembered a sister, but only vaguely, for he was too young when they were all taken from him.  The Romans destroyed what little they had and he couldn’t even tell you why.  He, too, would have seen his end at the mercy of a Roman blade had it not been for an Arab traveler.  The man dispatched the Roman soldier with the skill of a hunter and slipped into the shadows as if a ghost.

He was very small, but smart enough to realize that his only chance at survival was to learn the ways of this ghost Arab, so he followed him and found a way into the man’s trust.  Over the years of his life, the man taught Judah how to become a world class hashishin.  The things he was taught by the Arab master of death would earn him a reputation far and wide.  The things he could do with his blades and the ability to blend back into his environment went a long way into making him a world class vampire as well.

From a very young age, he was taught to defend himself, to steal, to lie and to kill.  These things the Arab ingrained into him until it became second nature.  He was an artisan of the arts of survival.  He could mix with the richest of men or the poorest of men and with the flipping of his cloak he could appear to be in the proper company with whichever he encountered.  His robes held such an array of weaponry, the blades so sharp that most didn’t even feel the cut until they were slipping in their own blood or tripping over their own intestines.  The Arab taught him how to hide in both the shadows or in the open, to blend in with a crowd or to disappear completely in the darkness.  He was a shadow that even the darkness feared.

And once he became vampire, he took things a step further, using his skills at killing to a whole new level and creating the Sicarii, the secret brotherhood of the dagger, to terrorize the Romans and run them out of his homeland.  His hatred for the Romans ran so deep that he would spend the rest of his existence bringing them terror.  A smile spread across his lips momentarily as he allowed himself to recall his youth, but he quickly quelled it.  Happiness is an illusion.  It was no longer allowed.  Pain is the truth, the only truth that he allowed.