by Richard Mann
As he walked towards the Blind Beggar Pub he saw two huge, tough looking men outside, wearing Italian suits. People walking past avoided them, but they broke into a smile as Peter approached them. They both shook his hand and clapped him on the back.
‘Vinnie and Reg are waiting for you.’
As he entered the pub, he could see Vinnie and his father Reg standing by the bar. Reg’s normally hard-as-nails features cracked into a warm smile as he walked towards him.
‘Peter, nice to see you again, anything you need, just let me know.’ Reg turned his head towards the bar.
‘Doris, two beers for Vinnie and Pete. We have some jellied eels left, they’re lovely.’
With that, his face turned back to his normal granite features and the two mountainous men in suits joined him.
‘I have a job for you two boys, someone’s not toeing the line.’
Peter and Vinnie sat on two barstools by the bar sipping their pints of London Pride. Peter declined the offer of the jellied eels, they made his stomach turn; Vinnie took one and turned to face his oldest friend.
‘I’ve travelled all around the world with this job but only in England can you get a decent pint of bitter,’ Peter smiled.
‘Heaven,’ replied Vinnie as they looked at the dark golden liquid reflecting in the sunlight, almost in a trance. They enjoyed that moment of pure pleasure as they took the first few sips of real ale. A ripple of satisfaction showed on Peter’s face as he looked at his old friend Vinnie.
‘Spoken like a poet.’
‘How did your chat with Sir Nigel go?’ Vinnie narrowed his eyes, concerned.
‘I have just been promoted to Captain.’
‘Captain Morgan – well-done mate, do I have to call you sir? Maybe we should be drinking rum instead—Captain Morgan,’ Vinnie joked. Vinnie walked around behind the bar, grabbed two glasses and poured them both a Captain Morgan. They raised their glasses then both downed in one.
Peter laughed and carried on. ‘Ahoy shipmates, me hearties!’ he added and they both laughed. Vinnie told a joke: ‘Horse walks into a bar. Why the long face said the barman?’ They both laughed, they had heard it before, but it was always funny. Then Peter became serious.
‘Sir Nigel, he said he would give you a pat on the back.’
‘Pat on the back? What the fuck does that mean?’ asked Vinnie looking furious.
‘Don’t worry Vinnie. It’s all sorted.’ Vinnie frowned.
‘I got a problem Pete, for some reason, 6 put a new handler in charge of me—you know, “shit face.”’ Vinnie looked unhappy and had that look about him that made ordinary mortals run for cover. Some called it the thousand-yard stare. Peter sipped his pint.
‘Oh yes I met him Ratti. Very new. Doesn’t know his arse from his elbow. I don’t like him much either. He gave me a dressing down for not doing paperwork properly. Technically, I’m his superior, so I told him to fuck off. Later he found out who I really was, and avoided me like the plague.’
Vinnie moved even closer, as if he was plotting a war and wagged his finger.
“He said my father was ‘of questionable character—moi?’”
Vinnie tried to look innocent and Peter smiled. Vinnie went on. ‘Ratti says my methods are unorthodox. He stopped my bonus for Christ’s sake.’
‘Unorthodox? Stopped your bonus he really is a shit face!’ exclaimed Peter.
Vinnie leaned in towards Peter and whispered. ‘I saved your arse for Christ’s sake. You know, the gig in Saudi.’
‘Not for the first time mate,’ Peter moved closer.
‘It’s a black op for Christ’s sake, you have to think on your feet!’
Vinnie leaned even closer. He wagged his finger again and his eyes grew thinner, as his features changed. He looked fearsome. Peter recognized this as battle mode: Vinnie “The Terminator” mode.
‘Oh yeah, Ratti, goes on about how he went to some posh English school, starts showing me these PowerPoint slides about how I’m going wrong. Says he’s a CA.’
Vinnie paused for emphasis.
‘What’s a CA I said to him, cunt and arse?’
‘No,’ he said. ‘I am a Chartered Accountant.’
‘My uncle is a Chartered Accountant—good business brain. So he didn’t offer you another job then, Vinnie?’ Peter asked innocently trying not to laugh, imagining the scene.
‘No, not after what I said to him after that.’
‘What was that?’ Peter was captivated and entertained.
‘I told him to go fuck himself.’
‘Oh Vinnie, you need to be more diplomatic mate.’ Peter laughed, nearly falling off his stool and spilling his beer, as he looked at Vinnie’s deadpan face.
‘I told him to stick his PowerPoint slides where the sun don’t shine.’
‘Vinnie, you have to think about your career,’ Peter was sympathetic; Vinnie was being true to character and he loved him for it.
‘He tried to get me expelled from the Service.’
‘I heard.’
‘I don’t know what to do Pete, I really don’t.’ Vinnie looked forlorn.
‘Don’t worry Vinnie, I put in a good word for you with Sir Nigel. He blocked it, your job is safe. I heard through the grapevine that it really pissed off Ratti, you will be happy to know.’
‘Good thanks, Pete.’
‘That’s what mates are for.’
‘What about my bonus, Pete?’
‘I talked to Sir Nigel, and he’s arranging it—tax-free of course. And he doesn’t mind your father being a gangster. In fact, he quite likes it—he might use him.’
They hugged each other in a tight embrace. Then Peter looked Vinnie in the eyes.
‘Vinnie, I know what you’re thinking mate, don’t do it, it’s not worth it.’
‘It’s a matter of honour, Pete, he insulted me.’
‘I know Vinnie, and I understand, I really do, we live by a code of honour, just don’t do it.’
Vinnie seemed disappointed. They hugged each other again
‘All right, I will give him a pass,’ said Vinnie reluctantly.
‘It had better be a good bonus, I promised Gill we would be putting a deposit on a house. After I get my bonus, I’m thinking of retiring from all this bullshit.’
‘But Vinnie you’re my wingman, I can’t work without you mate! I told Sir Nigel that—it’s both of us or nothing.’ Vinnie hugged Peter then had a worried look in his eye.
‘Rumour has they were going to transfer you to a test facility,’ asked Vinnie.
‘Who said that?’ asked Peter.
‘The boys at Hereford,’ said Vinnie
Then Peter came clean. ‘Someone from the CIA interviewed me. They wanted to find out how I can run so fast, be so strong like I was someone from a Marvel comic—the Hulk or something,’ said Peter angrily, then added, ‘I’m not going to be some test guinea pig, Vinnie, and be put on display. No fucking way.’ Vinnie nodded. They hugged again before Peter walked out of the pub.
Peter stood outside the pub and looked around him. Then looked up as a huge flock of birds flew past, blocking out the sun. There was definitely a change in the air: the winds of fate were moving.
Chapter 25
Primordial Instinct
As Peter sat on the train on the way back to Wales, his mind wandered. ‘Is it worth the stress? I should give up being a Secret Agent working for MI6 and become a farmer.’
The quiet life. Retire from all the bullshit—like Vinnie planned to do.
If it wasn’t for Vinnie watching his back he would have given up years ago. It was like having insurance, having Vinnie around, despite his bulletproof reputation. His thoughts moved to Jennifer and his family. They would see him again, at last, it had been too long since he had been home, far too long. He missed the peace and quiet
of his home in the enchanted wood. His little enclave of serenity and beauty, away from the mad world of guns, terrorists, and politicians. And politics. Here in this wooded valley, a spade was a spade, no grinning politicians to call it something else.
Home, the enchanted wood—there were all sorts of stories about that place, told to him by his grandmother and old Welsh farmers in the pub. He had never told anyone else about his experiences in the woods and desert with the priest, and the angel - not even Vinnie. As he walked up the garden path, there was no sign of anyone in.
He thought back to his waking dream.
Did he imagine it? As he looked out the kitchen window at the green countryside and the woods, he felt he was in a dream. Time seemed to stop, and all was quiet around him—the old black book with gold letters, the old, wise priest. The ancient warrior, a knight with a sword. He was holding a long silver sword that seemed to shine and illuminate everything.
A name repeated in his mind, Caius, Caius, he was standing on an island off the coast of Wales, looking out over a cliff, the breeze blowing his long hair as he looked out over the ocean. He heard a growling behind him. As he swung around, he saw a huge cat-like beast, a palug cat, ancient, wild and stalking him. Its evil eyes fixated on him as saliva drooled from its fangs. A deep growling came from deep within the beast; it was ready to pounce. Peter was cornered, nowhere to run; his heart pounded. He raised his sword, it was glowing blue with radiated light, and seemed to vibrate with power.
Then his wife was shaking him, ‘Peter, what’s the matter with you? What’s the matter!’ Peter came out of his trance, he was standing in his kitchen, and Jennifer was shaking him. ‘I’m sorry, I was daydreaming.’ He held her in his arms and didn’t let go.
‘It’s good to be home. I’m not leaving again—not in a hurry.’
‘Why don’t you go upstairs and rest? You look exhausted,’ she stroked his bald head.
As Peter lay on his bed, he saw a large black crow at the bedroom window, looking at him, its beady eyes looking into his soul. It tapped with its beak three times on the window. Then it was gone. He had a feeling in his gut that things were about to change, his life was about to change.
The world was about to change.
Gut instinct he called it.
It had saved him more than once, his sixth sense, survival instinct, an ancient sense of knowing. Humans had lost this primordial instinct, but Peter had it, in spades.
A warrior needs to be self-aware.
The atmosphere seemed different. People seemed different. The world was changing. Events were moving fast, his visions were more frequent now. Then he fell asleep. His children watched him, as Jennifer came into the room. Peter dreamed of ancient lands and ancient battles and a silver-blue sword. Then the landscape changed; he was standing on a hill overlooking a city, and above him was a huge, menacing black ship covering all in dark shadow.
And he was alone.
‘Daddy’s very tired, let him sleep. Help me cook him dinner.’ As Jennifer stood in the kitchen something made her glance up. The sky was dark, but it wasn’t storm clouds. She dropped her pan when she saw a huge swarm of screaming birds as they descended on the hidden valley, covering all the trees, screeching like the Hitchcock movie. It seemed all the birds in the world were seeking sanctuary in this hidden valley. Soon all the trees were covered in a thick layer of birds of all kinds and sizes, making a deafening noise. Jennifer hugged her frightened children as they watched the spectacle. Then she froze as a huge crow jumped onto her window ledge and stared at her with black knowing eyes.
Nature knows; nature was moving.
Chapter 26
Vampire and Human Summit
TOP SECRET US GOVERNMENT INSTALLATION IN VIRGINIA – PRESENT DAY
Cassian and Lucia are flying over the Blue Ridge Mountains in Virginia. Their large leathery wings catch a mountain updraft as they soar through the air. Their red eyes glow in the dark as the full moon shows them the way. Their progress is swift but unseen, except for a group of outsized bats who follow them at a discreet distance. As the vast mass of bats passes the moon, the light is dimmed for a moment. Cassian gestures to Lucia that they descend, so they swoop down outside a military base near some pine trees and land in silence.
Their blood-red eyes slowly change to blue, and their wings shrink, as they transform back to their normal form. Cassian raises a hand to the bat escort, and they move off. They can see the perimeter fence two hundred yards away as they shroud themselves in hooded cloaks. Fifty yards in front of them, Rangers in black military fatigues raise their automatic rifles and shout a challenge.
Cassian looks at Lucia, their thoughts as one, for no soldier can withstand the will of a vampire, especially Cassian, the Prince of all Vampires. As Cassian and Lucia walk nonchalantly past the guards, Cassian waves his hand, and they stand transfixed, open-mouthed in silence. One soldier opens fire, the bullets hitting Cassian in the chest. Cassian stops as if annoyed by a mosquito bite, then swoops forward at lightning speed and throws the soldier a hundred yards into some trees.
Inside the Top-Secret US government installation, General Bill Scott walks with President Frank Wilson along a steel corridor. The general’s short-cropped hair, ruddy face, and tall, straight frame sit perfectly in his immaculate four-star uniform. His disciplined tones echo down the hallway as he talks to his old friend, college professor and president, a dead ringer for Morgan Freeman.
‘I don’t know why you agreed to see these vampires, Frank - they are vermin. If the public ever found out, your ratings would plummet.’
‘God has a plan for everything, Bill,’ replies the President, taking off his glasses. His soft African-American features hide great wisdom, his short hair shows signs of grey, and his eyes show a hint of sadness, as if nursing a secret. General Scott thinks he sounds philosophical, not his usual self, not like him at all. He seems different, he appears to have lost some of his spark.
In a secure soundproof meeting room sits President Wilson, General Scott and vampire elders Cassian and Lucia.
‘I have agreed to this meeting as an opportunity to explore common ground as a basis for more talks between humans and vampires. I am hoping this will be the first of many meetings,’ says President Wilson, his hands open in friendship.
Cassian stands showing his thin, wiry and powerful frame. His long blond hair and sharp blue eyes radiate ancient wisdom and knowledge. He takes off his black cloak and reveals a black, medieval suit. Cassian speaks with a strong East European accent.
‘Thank you, Mr. President of da United States. Very soon, we will hold a Council Meeting of our elders, our government if you like. I want to establish diplomatic relations with da United States of America. I wish to adopt a policy of cooperation with humans on a broad range of issues. I would have waited till after our council meeting to ratify, but events seem to be overtaking us.’
General Scott looks curiously at their vampire guests, turning his nose up at their presence.
‘How can we be certain we can trust you, after the last incident in Texas?’ asks General Scott. Cassian and Lucia exchange glances. Lucia stands, her beautiful black hair flows over her shoulders, contrasting with her sharp blue eyes and pale skin. She wears a tight-fitting black leather suit, her magnetism palpable.
‘That was regrettable, and da punishment has been swift, I can assure you. We have an ancient law forbidding attacks on healthy humans. We will only feed on cattle or wild animals, besides we are now developing our own artificial blood banks, so we should be able to replenish ourselves without resorting to attacks on humans. It’s early days with this project, but we’re hopeful,’ replies Lucia in her East European accent, looking at Cassian.
Cassian gazes levelly at the president and General.
‘What do you mean—events seem to be overtaking us?’ President Wilson’s curiosity is piqued.
/> ‘Mr. President, if you will allow, there is another more pressing issue we need to discuss. We have become conscious of da threat of an old enemy. There are many orders of creation apart from humans and vampires, of which you may not be aware.’
Cassian casts his mind back thousands of years. He is inside a pyramid in the desert. He is leading a group of vampires against the aliens. The aliens wear battle dress and use hand lasers, and the stronger more agile vampires fight with swords and knives. Though better armed, the weaker aliens retreat to their spaceship and take off.
‘Thousands of years ago there was a war between a race of aliens and vampires back in a land called Sumeria, which you now call Iraq. These aliens are an ancient race, ten million years old. Their gene pool became depleted, so they came to Earth looking for new genetic material. First, they came in small numbers. They killed da men and kidnapped da women for their filthy genetic experiments.’
‘What experiments?’ asks the president.
‘They set up laboratories where these women were held, strapped to tables. Yhey had long needles inserted into their head, arms, and stomach. Da aliens did not use anaesthetic.
‘How do you know?’ asks Scott.
‘I was there, I witnessed it. I heard their screams of agony. I saw da look of terror in their eyes, their pleadings for mercy, but of course, they didn’t get any.’
The president winces. General Scott’s eyes roll.
‘They took human samples of DNA, mixed it with alien DNA to try to create hybrid, half-human half-alien creatures. Their first attempts were like a freak horror show. I am a vampire, a demon, but even I was shocked at the grotesque creatures that emerged. They died, of course, da few that survived didn’t live very long. They also performed experiments on muscle, bone and nerve regeneration of disabled aliens with transplantation of body parts from human to aliens. At first, I was ambivalent about humankind—they were just a food source to us, but when I saw da torture and mutilations my attitude changed. I began to feel sorry for them.’