Homecoming

by Heath Stallcup

  Damien smiled and thrust out the small wad of bills. “I’ll let them know.”

  The bearded man accepted the bills and shoved them into his pocket without counting them. “One hour. Right over there.”

  “One hour.” Damien turned and trotted off out of sight while the bearded man climbed back onto his lift.

  As he approached the beat up flatbed truck, Rachel sat nervously in the cab, chewing at the edge of her thumbnail. “The sun will be up soon.”

  “I know, but I have it figured out.” He opened her door and pulled her from the cab. “I have a guy that’s going to load us on the next ship to Italy.”

  She balked momentarily and gave him a wide eyed stare. “I told you I wouldn’t go back to Rome.”

  “Not Rome, darling, just Italy. I’ll go to Rome and get the pieces we need. You can stay at a nice little villa on the edge of town and have an all day brunch, okay?” He held his hand out to her and waited until she took his hand in hers.

  “Let me guess. Shipping crates?”

  “Yeah. Too close to coffins for my tastes, but we do what we have to do.” He walked her to the edge of the fence and had her stand by to keep watch. He trotted back to the truck and pulled the bag of remains from the toolbox under the bed and quickly shoved them into a wooden box, hammering the top shut. He then grabbed a long tall crate and carried it to where she stood and helped her to step inside. “See you in Italy, darling.”

  She nodded and leaned back into the shaved wood stuffing. He placed the lid over the top and hammered the cover in place. Then he slowly lowered the crate to the ground and placed a sticker of the Italian flag on the top. He placed another on the top of the smaller box with the remains. He then pulled his own crate next to hers and placed the Italian flag sticker on the top, pulled it over the top and using a screw gun, attached the top from the inside.

  Settling into the shaved wood stuffing he closed his eyes and waited. It wasn’t long before he heard the forklift arrive and felt the crate being jostled as it was loaded onto the tines of the forklift. He heard more than felt the other crates being stacked on top of his larger crate, then felt the rocking of the forklift as it carried them to the ship and stacked them with the other goods being carried across the channel. He heard a hand slap something against the side of the box and assumed it was whatever paperwork the bearded man spoke of.

  Damien exhaled softly as he finally felt somewhat safe for the ride. The final leg of their journey was about to begin.

  11

  “I almost told him.” Matt shut Tufo’s door and nearly fell onto the overstuffed couch across from his XO. The flat faced fart factory sleeping on the other end merely snorted and rolled over exposing his belly and private parts to the world.

  “Nearly told who what?” Tufo closed the folder he held in his hands and quietly slipped a pair of reading glasses from the bridge of his nose.

  Matt absently reached out and rubbed the bulldog’s tummy, watching his hind leg kick gently in his sleep. “Jack. I called to verify the…” his voice trailed off. “Aww, shit. I called because I wanted to ask him if he’d seen that damned notebook. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Instead I told him we’d have a squad available.”

  “Normally I’d tease you for chickening out, but I think you made the right call in keeping it close to the vest.” Mark set the folder aside and leaned back in his chair. “We’re going to have to play this with kid gloves, Matt. You know Jack, he’s a good guy, but he’s a part of that group now. That’s his home for all intents and purposes.”

  “I know.” Matt stopped rubbing the dog and leaned against the arm of the couch. “I don’t know why I thought I should confide in him, but as soon as I heard Mueller’s voice on the line, I switched gears.”

  “Why on earth would you tip our hand so early?”

  “Because I’ve known Phoenix for so long that I’d gotten used to just telling him what I need and he’d see that it was done. For a moment I’d nearly forgotten that he’s not part of the squad anymore.”

  “You’re right there. Whether we like it or not, he’s in bed with them now.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far. He may be ‘with’ them, but he’s not with them. He works for Thorn but only because he married into…”

  “The mob?” Tufo nearly cracked a smile.

  “The pack. It’s their agreement with Thorn that has him stuck there.”

  “How did he sound when you talked to him?”

  Matt raised his brows. “How do you mean?”

  “I mean, did he still sound like Jack to you? Did he sound different in any way?”

  “Negative. He sounded exactly the same as he always has.” Matt had to admit, he almost expected the chief to come across differently since he was now effectively in charge of his own small army. But even upon reflection, he seemed like the same old Jack.

  “Then I don’t think you have anything to worry about there. If Thorn really does have something up his sleeve, Jack doesn’t know about it. But for us to be able to use that to our advantage, we have to time it right. You did right by not tipping our hand yet.”

  Matt glanced at the clock on the wall and felt the overwhelming fear that time was running out. “I hope you’re right.”

  *****

  Rufus awoke with a start. It was uncommon for him to actually have dreams when he slept. It was even more uncommon for him to have nightmares. He hadn’t had any real nightmares since shortly after the edict was placed upon his head by the Vampire Council. Before that, it was after he had turned on his family and drained them. Those nightmares took far too long to fade. Even when the Sicarii rose up against mankind, he didn’t suffer from nightmares. But this day, he had dreams of her. The one they did not speak of. For centuries, vampires thought it bad luck to speak the name of Lilith. For them, it was like speaking the name of the devil. But Rufus was not your common vampire.

  He slipped from the satin sheets of his bed and felt the perspiration on his brow. This is new. He hadn’t broken into a cold sweat in centuries. From a dream?

  He slipped from the mattress and went to the wash basin across the room. He wrung out a cloth and wiped it across his face and neck. The cooling water did little to calm his nerves, but it did remove the evidence of how deeply disturbed he had been by his dream.

  Glancing to the heavy curtains he noted soft light sneaking through the edges. Twilight. Not quite his normal waking time, but it would do. He dressed and made his way downstairs to his study. After checking that nobody was nearby, he opened the drawer in his desk and retrieved the phone he had hidden inside. He quickly turned it on and checked for messages. He sincerely hoped that there was no more bad news and was not surprised that he had a voicemail waiting. What problems have you encountered this time?

  He punched the button to retrieve the voicemail and sat patiently listening to the message. Slowly a smile crossed his face, as the German engineers explained that they had been working around the clock to catch up and were ahead of schedule. So far, they had hit no more snags and expected the device to be ready ahead of their last reported date.

  Rufus sighed with relief and quietly slipped the phone back into his drawer. One step closer to stopping Lilith for good.

  *****

  Laura stepped from the Explorer and looked around the run down excuse for an airport. “You actually fly out of here?”

  “Yeah. So?” Jennifer regarded her as if she had spit in her latte.

  “Doesn’t exactly look safe.” As if on cue, a piece of tin from the ramshackle building caught the slight breeze and bent away from the wall then fell to the ground. “I take it back. Looks solid as a rock.”

  Jennifer fought the urge to flip her the bird. “Never judge a book by its cover.”

  “Especially when the cover is falling off.”

  “I’d take exception to that, except it’s true,” a husky, masculine voice called from beside them. Laura caught a slight accent that reminded her of Australia or New
Zealand and when she turned, her eyes fell upon one of the prettiest men she had ever seen. Tall and ruggedly handsome, his arms appeared strong with corded muscle covered with tanned skin. His hair had a bleached blonde look to it, but it was hard to tell for sure under the khaki boonie hat he wore. “Don’t worry much about the building though. The plane is sturdy.”

  Jennifer met him with glee on her face and wrapped her arms around his neck. He picked her up easily and squeezed her. “How’s everything, Squeak?” he asked as he spun her gently.

  Her face suddenly grew somber. “Mickey, I need your help.” She indicated Laura with a slight nod. “She and I have to get to Brazil. Fast.”

  The pilot turned to face Laura. “Who’s your friend, Squeak?”

  “Her name is Laura and…” her voice trailed off.

  Laura extended her hand. “And, time is of the essence.”

  Mickey took her hand and gave her an award winning smile. “In a hurry to leave our little tropical paradise are we?”

  Laura fought a blush and added, “Jennifer’s father would very much like us to stay longer. In fact, he’d like me to stay forever. In little pieces. Scattered all over your little piece of tropical paradise.”

  Jennifer paled and Mickey took a step back. “Well, if the great Mr. Simmons wants you sliced and diced, I’d sure hate to disappoint him.” He cut her an even bigger smile and then a quick wink. “How much time, ladies, before the dog pack comes sniffing around?”

  Jennifer shrugged. “Anywhere from twenty minutes to maybe an hour.”

  “Plenty of time.” Mickey quickly directed the women behind the remains of the building and placed them in the shade. “I was about to do a shakedown anyway on this Baron I just finished rebuilding. I think a quick hop to Brazil would make for a perfect test.”

  “Test?” Laura looked anxiously at Jennifer who rapidly shook her head.

  “No worries. She’s fit as a fiddle. I rebuilt her myself.”

  Laura took a deep breath to calm her nerves. “Perfect. Who’s worried?”

  Mickey laughed heartily as he disappeared behind the building. He emerged a few moments later with a charging cart and wheeled it inside the makeshift garage. Laura couldn’t contain her curiosity and followed him inside. She watched as he attached the charger to the batteries then ran a long hose to the fuel filler and began filling the tanks on the craft. He caught her watching him and shot her another smile. “Shouldn’t be but a few more minutes. We’ll be airborne in fifteen or twenty and you can forget all about Walter Simmons.”

  Laura let out a breath and felt her shoulders relax a bit. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me yet. You’re as much a guinea pig as I am, little Sheila.”

  Laura smiled as his accent deepened. “I take it you’re an Aussie?”

  “Aw, now, did Squeak tell you? I’ve been working so hard at beating this accent.” He pulled the filler hose and recapped the tank. “There. We should be good for about twelve hundred miles.”

  “It’s not that far is it?”

  “Oh yeah, we’ll have to stop for fuel halfway there. Even if it wasn’t, though, most pilots prefer to carry just enough fuel to get where they’re going to save on weight. I’d rather carry a little extra weight and know I had enough fuel to take us wherever we needed to go.” He patted the side of the dual engine plane. “Just in case.”

  “Err on the side of caution?”

  “Something like that.” He gave her a look she couldn’t read. “But when you’re a cat running from a pack of rabid dogs, it’s more like ‘making sure you’re able to run as far as you need to’. Know what I mean?”

  Laura gave him a confused look. “Not really. I mean, I understand the dog reference but…”

  “Jennifer didn’t tell you?” He tipped his cap back and eyed her cautiously.

  “Tell me what?”

  He chuckled as he sat on the charger cart and shook his head. “Well, I could smell that you were human, but you didn’t flinch at…” He laughed again and stood up to check the meter on the cart.

  “Tell me what?” Laura asked again.

  “Jennifer and her family are wolves. But I’m a werecat. We don’t exactly mix, if you catch my meaning.”

  *****

  Apollo sat quietly in his closet of an office and fumed. He continued to go through the numerous videos that Sheridan had collected and obviously edited just for his benefit. He felt the most horrible physical pain in his chest and twisting at his guts as he continued to watch the short videos over and over. He felt his eyes betraying him as they misted and fogged, then his anger would rise and he’d want to punch something, destroy something, hurt somebody…inflict as much harm and pain on something else as he was feeling.

  He sat alone in his misery and allowed his mind to torture himself. Why had she done this? She knew how he felt. They had talked about why she had her issues…they had worked past it. Hadn’t they? Didn’t they decide it was better to risk loving each other rather than keep each other at arm’s length and risk losing that time together? He thought they did.

  He remembered going to Jack and…Jack! He convinced him that there was nothing going on between Hank and Maria. It was just a teacher-student relationship. He promised him. That was all it could be.

  And Marshall; that little bastard actually walked in on them and kept it to himself. Why? To keep Apollo on his toes for the desert mission. For a fucking mission?!

  Apollo fought the urge to crush the small video player in his hand and instead, mashed the button to kill the power. He placed it into the drawer of his desk and sat quietly in the dark of his office.

  How could they play him like that?

  How could they use him like that?

  They were his family…how could they lie to him like that?

  He pushed away from his desk so hard that he put a crease in the wall behind his chair.

  He had to find Sheridan. He needed answers.

  *****

  “And what if I can’t compel him?” Paul asked as he quietly sipped his mixed animal blood.

  Rufus sat across from him in the study and merely held his goblet. “You can, you are his maker.”

  Paul glanced away, remembering what Damien was becoming when he last saw him. “He may no longer be vampiri.”

  Rufus studied his brother, willing him to explain. When Paul refused to look up, Rufus snapped his fingers. “Why do you say this? Surely he did not find a cure?”

  “No. No, of course not.” Paul took a shaky sip and rested his goblet on the desk. “Before the altercation in Nevada, Damien had…an unfortunate incident.”

  “Go on.”

  Paul cleared his throat nervously. “He temporarily lost his mind, brother. He began to eat of the flesh of others.”

  “Sacrebleu! Fils de pute! How could you allow him to…”

  “I know!” Paul took to his feet and began pacing. “I ordered him, as his maker, to stop. We cleaned him up, forced some blood into him, kept an eye on him and he…” He sighed and fell back into his chair. “I thought he stopped. I thought he only ate the one woman.”

  “But…”

  “But now,” Paul stated slowly, seeking his words wisely, “I fear he may have even fed on some of the older vampires.”

  Rufus groaned and slumped into his seat. “Well, this explains why the Council fears him so. That he became a ghoul? A true eater of the flesh is bad enough but if he turned on his own kind, he could absorb their strength.”

  “Yes, but what he’d lose by doing so—”

  “He does not care!” Now it was Rufus’ turn to come to his feet. “We had better pray that he has not turned revenant or even you will have no sway over him.”

  Paul felt suddenly very ill. “I’m sorry, brother. I didn’t know he had gone this far.”

  Rufus took a deep breath and purposely calmed himself. “It is not your fault. If he lost his mind as you say, there was nothing you could do to prevent it.”

  “I
could have killed him,” Paul murmured. “I should have killed him. It is the right thing to do.”

  “He was your child, brother. You could no more kill him than I could kill you.”

  Paul said nothing as a myriad of thoughts jockeyed for position in his mind. He simply shook his head. “I should have staked him as soon as he ate of the flesh the first time.”

  Rufus patted his brother’s shoulder. “You couldn’t have known. Besides, we can’t be certain that your child has gone the way of the revenant. For now, we stick to the plan.”

  “And if he has?” Paul asked, panic rising in his voice. “What if I have no sway over him? What if he’s eaten from enough of our kind that his power surpasses my own?”

  “Then I shall stake him, and he shall no longer be a problem. Either way, the Council shall have their pound of flesh, and we will both be free of the edict.”

  *****

  Little John stood at the tall metal table at the back of the armory cleaning his weapons when Spalding entered. “Don’t trust the armorers to do that for you?”

  Little John didn’t even look up, and he continued to scrub each individual component with a toothbrush and Teflon infused gun oil. “It’s therapy.”

  Spalding took a seat and watched the man as he expertly worked each piece from the weapon and scrubbed it within an inch of its life then wiped it down with a clean cloth and cotton swabs. “Therapy, huh?” He braced his elbows on the table and continued to watch the man work. “You realize you’re putting two very well trained people out of work, don’t you?” He gave John his best smile, but it was completely lost as the man continued to clean his weapons.

  Spalding sighed and sat upright. “So, what gives? What’s eating you?”

  John paused a moment then shook his head. “Nothing.”

  “It doesn’t look like nothing. We came back, everybody was upset over the losses. You’re obviously upset, but you don’t—”