Wayward Son (13 page)

“And you’re not worried that somebody will try to snatch you up again?” Again, Laura didn’t mean to add as much sarcasm to her voice, but it crept in.

“No. I’m not.” Jennifer crossed her arms and gave her a stern stare.

“What if they’re attacked again?” Laura’s voice softened. “Aren’t you afraid that something might happen to you?”

Jennifer shook her head. “If he’s truly my Fated Mate, he won’t let anything happen to me. He’d take a bullet for me if he thinks that I’m the one.”

“You sound pretty sure of yourself.”

“If you were a wolf, you would understand.”

Laura snorted. “Ah, the old ‘
it’s a wolf thing, you wouldn’t understand
’ argument.”

Jennifer shrugged again. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Laura peered past Jennifer and noted the empty hallway. “Fine. The Brazilians are preparing for a mission. I’m dead tired and have to get a couple hours sleep. As soon as somebody from the base calls me, I’ll get word to Matt that we’re headed his way.”

“Thanks.” Jennifer turned to leave.

“Hey, do you think Mick will take us the rest of the way or will we need to fly commercial?”

She shook her head. “I honestly don’t know. I can ask him when he wakes.”

“Let me know as soon as you can so I can alert Matt.”

Jennifer nodded her agreement then slipped back into her own room. Laura shut the door and practically collapsed onto her narrow bed once more.

Across the hallway, Mick paced rapidly in his room, clenching and unclenching his fists.
Mr. Simmons will not like this at all.

*****

Tracy pushed aside the shoebox at the top of the closet and wrapped her fingers around the cold steel of the revolver. She felt a shudder travel through her body as her hand gripped the inanimate object and a queasy feeling rose from her stomach and threatened the back of her throat. She nearly gasped when she pulled the weapon from the top shelf of the closet, even though she knew exactly what it was. Even though it was the reason she had returned home. Even though it was the only thing that ran through her mind during the entire trip. Now that she was physically holding it in her hand, she wanted nothing more than to be as far from it as she possibly could.

She placed the pistol carefully on the bed and stared at it with a curious fascination. A certain horror intermingled with the idea that this cold, unfeeling tool, this mindless utensil of destruction, this
thing
that her husband had brought into their home for their protection, would now be the harbinger of his undoing.

She sat down hard on the end of the bed and ignored the silent specter beside her. She knew that if she didn’t take it to him, he’d only find another from somebody else at the base. She also knew the risks involved in letting nature take its course. An accidental infection of a loved one could mean the transfer of the curse. She wanted so desperately to curl into a ball and weep; to simply cry herself to sleep and wake to find out that it was all a bad dream.

She held her head in her hands and sobbed silently, praying that somehow they both were wrong. Praying that somehow, everything would be okay. She lifted her face to find Hank licking at her foot.

“What do you want?” Her voice cracked as she reached for his big square head. “Do you miss daddy?”

Hank yawned and smacked his jowls, then rested his head on the top of her foot. The added weight pulled on the mattress and caused the pistol to slide across the comforter. Tracy caught it with her hand and nearly jumped when she felt the coldness of the steel again.

“I don’t know if I can do this.” Hank closed his eyes and grunted, wiping drool on the top of her foot as he rested his heavy head. “Infected or not, I want daddy to come home again.”

Hank’s head slipped off her foot and he slid to the floor in a large sleepy pile. He had no idea why the human he allowed to feed him was so upset, but he had a tired-on that demanded a nap.

*****

Hammer entered the lounge and peered into the gloom. The televisions were all off and nobody was in sight. He stepped over to the entry to the gym and stuck his head in, but again, the room might as well have been a ghost town. “Where the hell are you, Dave?” he mumbled to himself.

Making his way down the aft stairwell, he entered the CQB training area. Rather than walking through all of the rooms that were set up, he strained his ears but couldn’t hear anybody.

With a groan, Hammer backtracked and made his way topside. Finding Chad ‘Mac’ McKenzie assisting the tech crew run new cabling he caught the man’s attention. “Have you seen Marshall?”

Mac thought for a moment then pointed him toward the other end of the hangar. “They’re collecting the dead for cremation down there. I’m pretty sure I saw him helping them load body bags.”

Hammer scratched at the side of his head and turned toward the deuce and half parked at the north end of the hangar. As he rounded the stack of crates between himself and truck he found Marshall loading bodies in the back of the truck, pausing after each one to mumble a short prayer and perform the sign of the cross over the body. “I didn’t know you were the religious type.”

Marshall gave him a sheepish grin and nodded. “Yeah, well, after all the things we’ve seen and heard, it just seemed the natural choice.”

Hammer watched him reach for the next body bag and he grabbed the other end, helping him stack the body into the back of the truck. “I thought you were in a hurry to catch your soaps.”

Marshall paused and blew out a long breath. “I didn’t want to say anything because…”

“What? You were afraid we’d rib you?”

“Pfft. Like I’d care about that.” He turned back to the body recently added to the stack and repeated the same short prayer and sign of the cross. Turning back to Hammer, he shrugged. “I guess I was afraid you’d try to stop me.”

“Nobody ever tried to stop the Padre.”

“But he was a man of God.” Dave searched the larger man’s face. “I mean, he was…ordained or something, right?”

Hammer shrugged. “Beats me.” He crossed his arms and smirked at Marshall. “Would it matter if another
person
gave him permission to serve?” Neils could almost see the light bulb go off in Marshall’s head. “The Padre did what he believed was right. Nobody would dare try to stop him from that. Even if they disagreed with him.”

Marshall leaned against the truck and ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t see how anybody who fought in the desert with us could possibly disagree with him. I mean, we had a vampire who was once one of Christ’s disciples. We had a werewolf who was there when he died on the cross. Both were cursed to live forever. Fathers of their own cursed lines. Both of them had seen things that…” his voice trailed off.

“Don’t strain your brain trying to figure it out, buddy.” Hammer clapped his shoulder. “People have argued for and against the whole God-no God, religion versus nature thing for centuries. If you’ve found something that works for you, run with it. Just don’t let it get between you and your job.”

“No, never. I just,” He paused and turned back to the bodies. “I felt like they needed somebody to say something over them.” He turned back to Neils and his eyes began to redden. “That Carbone needed someone to…say…”

Hammer nodded and gave the man’s shoulder a squeeze. “I understand, I truly do.” He turned back to the remaining bodies. “Let’s finish up here so the techs can do their jobs.”

The two men finished loading the bags into the truck, each being treated to a personal prayer from Marshall while Hammer watched on.

I’m sure they all appreciate the thought if nothing else.
Neils thought.

*****

“Our forces are gathering. We’ll have a small army here before morning.” Paul slipped back into his chair and eyed his brother. “How are you feeling?”

“I feel angry.” Rufus stood and paced the small office. “I haven’t fed on human blood in so long that…” He shuddered, and Paul felt the wave of energy ripple from him. A ripple that cause the hair on the back of his neck to stand on end. “I’m finding it difficult to fight the urge to hunt.”

“How long were you on animal blood?” Paul’s voice was barely a whisper, his question more rhetorical than anything.

“Too long.” A growl came from deep in Rufus’ chest. He turned and shot his brother a feral stare. “I crave more.”

“Then you aren’t through healing.” Paul rose and waved Marco in. The large man all but trotted into the office with the cooler in hand. “You need to finish healing so we can get you back onto your special mixture.” Paul stifled his smile as he reached into the cooler and withdrew another bag. “Here. Feed.”

Rufus tore into the bag and sucked it flat in short order. Paul was standing by with another when the first was simply dropped to the ground. “Hmm. Perhaps we should get you a live donor in here. Let you feed from a source with more than one unit in it?”

Rufus sucked greedily from the plastic bag, his eyes darting side to side. “
Non
. I do not think I can control…” He sat on the makeshift bed and rolled his eyes back into his head. “I need more.”

Paul looked to Marco and gave a slight nod. Marco nervously set the cooler down beside Paul and slipped from the room. He reentered a moment later with a woman in tow. Her hands were bound behind her, her mouth taped shut. “Oh, look at what Marco found. A ‘donor’.” Paul slipped from his chair and practically glided to the door. He wrapped an arm around the quivering young woman and escorted her into the room. “Look, brother, a donor.”

Rufus’ eyes shot open as soon as he smelled the human. He could sense her fear and it excited him even more. He dropped the nearly empty bag of blood and stared at her, his fangs still extended. “Where did you...”

“She volunteered, didn’t you, sweetheart?” Paul’s hand gripped the back of her neck and gently nodded her head for her even though her tears and sniveling told a different story. He bent her head to the side, exposing her neck. “And look, she
wants
you to get better brother. She wants you to feed from her.”

Rufus’ hands shook as he reached for the half naked young woman. “I do not think I can stop if I…”

“Do not worry, brother. I will help you.” Paul’s voice sounded like silk as it slid across the room and caressed Rufus’ ears. “Just enough to help you heal.”

“
Oui
. Just enough to help me heal.”

He rose slowly from the mattress and reached for the woman. She tried to recoil from his cold touch but Paul held her tight. Rufus launched himself and was attached to her neck in a moment. The initial shock and fear gave way to a moan of ecstasy as he sunk his fangs into her and began to feed. She melted in Paul’s grip and he had to increase his hold to keep her upright. Eventually, he let go and allowed Rufus to hold her while he fed.

Marco stood in the doorway and watched the macabre dance. His hands shook with both fear and anger as he watched Mr. Foster manipulate his master. Rufus was obviously out of his mind to do such a thing, but to have Paul coerce him so? Marco couldn’t stop watching. He saw Paul slowly turn and give him a smile that made his blood run cold. He knew exactly what he was doing.

When Rufus let go of the girl and she tumbled to the floor, her ashen skin the color of death, Marco knew he had crossed that line that he swore he’d never cross again. Marco lowered his eyes and prayed to whatever god would listen that Rufus would get his rightful mind returned.

Rufus stood and stretched his arms outward. He could feel his bones knit back together, his internal organs heal and the last of his burns return to normal skin once again. “It is finished.”

“Yes, it is.” Paul kicked the body of the girl aside and leaned against the desk. “So…tell me, brother, how do you feel now?”

Rufus turned and glared at him with feral eyes. “I feel like a vampire once more.”

*****

Lilith paced slowly while Damien remained prostrated on the floor. “I need you to fetch me things.” She stopped and placed a heel on his shoulder. “You can do this, can you not?”

“What do you need, mistress? Tell me so that I might please you.”

She watched him patiently, waiting for him to lift his eyes to

bask in her radiance. When he didn’t, she smiled to herself and removed her foot. “I am in need of ingredients for a spell. You can obtain these things, yes?”

“Or die trying, mistress.”

She kicked him hard across the ribs and sent him sprawling. “There is a difference in blind obedience and proficiency. I need somebody capable of getting me what I need.” She bent down and pulled him to her face by his shirt. “Can you do this or are you a liability?”

“I can do this, mistress.” Damien choked as she tightened her grip on him. “I swear I can.”

She threw him to the ground and stood over him. She watched him carefully and knew she had him when Damien’s eyes finally broke from the ground and glanced up at her still naked form. He turned slowly and stared at the body he had fallen in love with and his breath came in choking gasps as he stared. “Eyes to the ground.” She stepped over him and watched him scramble to press his forehead to the cold concrete once more.