by Mark Tufo
Laura considered his words. “But what if that one is just a story? What if it’s wrong?”
“What if Evan is wrong and all the legends are bullshit? Then all his weapon will do is kill a few natural borns and it’s still no harm, no foul.”
Laura calmed considerably. “I still don’t like gambling with the squad’s lives…”
“We aren’t.” Matt said. “For all we know, his drawing board idea won’t go anywhere.”
“It still scares me.”
“You’re tougher than this,” Matt said, turning away. “You need to start acting it.”
Chapter 254
Damien pulled the black SUV into the underground parking garage and began the slow descent into the lower levels. Deeper and deeper he drove until he reached the lowest level. He slowly pulled the SUV to the furthest wall and turned off the lights. He checked his mirrors to ensure nobody had followed him then tapped his horn twice.
Rolling down the driver’s window, he looked up at the digital camera mounted in the corner and waved. Slowly the back wall of the parking garage parted and allowed him to pull the SUV into the hidden parking level on the other side. He drove another 50 yards and parked the truck. He stepped out into the cool air of the lower level and his eyes instantly adjusted the blackness. He saw three figures approaching him and he opened the back door of the SUV and pulled his father’s prone body out and tossed him over his shoulder.
“Why isn’t his head covered?” one of the guards asked.
“His mind is toast, man. He couldn’t tell you where he was if he had to,” Damien explained, turning slightly to show the blank expression on Franklin’s face. “Now, take me to Paul.”
The guards looked at each other as if debating whether or not to trust Damien. The larger of the two touched the earpiece in his ear then said, “Let them through. Foster’s orders.”
“See? I wouldn’t shit you guys.” Damien smirked. You’re my favorite turds.
They led Damien with his package across the parking area and to a set of ornate double doors. The largest guard reached up and grabbed the oversized knocker and struck once, echoing through the room before opening the doors.
The room was lit entirely by candles. Large and small candelabras stood throughout the room. Heavy tapestries hung from the walls and rich Persian rugs lay upon the floor. Across from the doors stood a large four-post bed with colorful fabrics draped from it. Antique furniture was set about the room and a grand piano sat to one side. Large pillows were strewn about and women lay upon them or draped themselves from the furniture like decorations. Paul stood from the edge of the bed and slowly walked across the room toward Damien. Damien kneeled, his father still across his shoulder.
Paul walked slowly toward Damien and observed that he kept his head bowed, his eyes never left the floor. He knew that Damien not only feared him, but respected him, and he appreciated greatly the life that Paul had bestowed to him. As Paul approached, Damien realized that Paul wore no clothing. He must have been feeding, and he interrupted it. “Forgive me, father, I did not mean to interrupt your meal.”
“No need, my son. I was fucking, not eating.” Paul smiled and extended his ring hand for Damien to kiss. “I never mix the two pleasures.” Paul laughed slightly. “Aww, hell, who am I kidding? I mix them all the time.” He took Damien by the chin and pulled him to his feet so that he could look him in the eye. “So tell me, my child, how bad is it?”
“They did something to his mind. If I didn’t know better, I’d think a natural had gotten to him. Most likely chemical brainwashing.”
“Why could it not be a natural born?” Foster inquired.
“Mitchell, sire. He detests our kind.”
“Our kind?” Foster turned to Damien, his inquiry clear. Did Damien dare to compare himself to his sire, a nearly three hundred-year-old natural born vampire?
“I meant only…our kind…in…that we are both vampire, sire.” Damien’s eyes were lowered.
“I know what you meant,” Foster said softly, his voice like music to Damien’s ears. “You want so desperately to be like me. The power, the nobility, the money, the abilities.”
Damien was smart enough to hold his tongue. Nothing he could say at this point would be the right answer. If he disagreed, that would be telling his master that he was wrong. If he agreed, his master may well kill him for coveting what he had. Damien could only bow and scrape to him and hope that he would soon tire of toying with him. Luckily for Damien, Paul Foster simply enjoyed messing with the minds of his minions.
He reached down and grasped a handful of Franklin’s hair and lifted his head so that he could look into his face. “What’s with the stupid look on his face?”
“He’s still highly suggestible. I told him to sit down and shut up and he did,” Damien responded.
“Very well.” Foster turned and retrieved a robe from a nearby chair. Wrapping the heavy garment around himself, he somehow looked smaller. Foster was barely six foot tall, but he seemed much larger to those who witnessed him. Damien assumed it was a trick of the mind from the power he exuded due to his age. He appeared to be maybe forty years old, but at nearly three hundred years old, Paul was in incredible physical shape. “Set him here so he doesn’t fall over.”
Damien sat his father in one of the high back chairs and held his shoulders steady. Foster pulled another chair over and stared into his eyes. “Tell me.”
“Tell you what?” Franklin said drunkenly.
Foster smiled coldly. “Tell me what they did to you.”
“Who?” Franklin asked, his face a blank slate.
“Mitchell’s people…tell me what they did to you. From the beginning.”
“Mitchell?” Franklin struggled against Damien’s hands. “Mitchell? Mitchell needs…he needs…he needs..”
“What did Mitchell do to you?” Paul Foster’s stare intensified.
“Mitchell needs…” Franklin tried to break eye contact, but Damien held his face. “He needs…he needs…needs…”
“What did Mitchell do to you?!” Foster practically shouted.
“He needs…needs…needs…needles! Needles! They stuck a needle in me,” Franklin gasped. He was gulping air, like he was trying not to drown. He kept trying to pull his head up and away from Damien’s grasp but he held his head still, their gazes locked. “They stuck a needle in my arm, and I told them my plan.”
Foster never broke eye contact, but he contemplated ending Franklin’s life there and then. He needed to know how much Franklin told them. Their survival may depend on it and Franklin’s most certainly did. “What exactly did you tell them?”
“That I was trying to save Damien. I had to save Damien. He was all I had left.”
“Save him from what?”
“From Mitchell.” Franklin was sobbing. “From his damned Monster Squads.”
“What else did you tell them?”
“Nothing.”
“Did you tell them about me?”
“I don’t know who you are,” Franklin admitted. “Who are you?” he asked almost hypnotically.
Foster smiled. “Did you tell him of your plan to expose him and his squad?”
“Yes,” Franklin admitted.
“How did they catch you?”
Franklin’s brows knitted together. “I don’t know. I stuck the USB bug into the computer and all went well. I was leaving and a guard tackled me. Treated me like a common criminal. The twit.”
Foster smiled at the thought. “And then?”
“Then they cuffed me,” Franklin said with apparent disbelief. “When I wouldn’t cooperate, they stuck me with a needle and everything got fuzzy. I felt woozy. And they made me talk to them,” Franklin pleaded. “I didn’t want to, but I had to,” he whined.
“Yes, of course you did,” Foster cooed. “What happened next?”
“I woke up next to the most beautiful redhead I’d ever seen. She sucked my dick and I really liked it,” Franklin smiled.
Foster’s face went blank. “You what?”
“I was in New Orleans and there was this beautiful redhead with the most enchanting green eyes…” Franklin was smiling. “She had the biggest penis I’d ever seen.”
Damien let go of his father’s head, “What the hell?” Foster hissed and Damien’s shocked eyes met his. He reluctantly reached back down and held his father’s head in place. Foster continued staring into his eyes.
“What then?”
“I went back to Washington. But I couldn’t stop thinking about her,” Franklin admitted.
“Let’s not discuss the transsexual for the moment. How did you get to New Orleans?”
“I don’t know. I can’t remember. I just woke up there. Maybe she brought me there. She had the most beautiful green eyes.” Franklin smiled. “I think she put her penis in my butt because it was really sore…”
“Gah! Focus! What transpired between Oklahoma City and you waking up in New Orleans?” Foster asked.
Franklin’s brows knitted together in thought. “I can’t remember. There’s nothing there…”
Foster sighed. “He’s useless. There’s nothing useful in there.” He waved him away with his hand.
Damien was torn. On one hand he was totally disgusted by his father’s sex life, but at the same time, he still felt that his connections in Washington were their best shot at getting the Monster Squad shut down without either exposing themselves or losing any of their own numbers.
“Sire, I still think he can be of use to us,” Damien said. “If you can clear his mind of this…blockage, he will remember his rage toward Mitchell. He will have back his old desires of destroying them. He will stop at nothing. And he may still have usefulness in Washington.”
“We never needed a politician before, and the one time that we tried to use one, the attempt failed us,” Foster said, obviously ready to give up entirely on the idea.
“It never hurts to have friends in high places,” Damien whispered. “A United States Senator, whose only son is a vampire in your service?”
Foster debated on simply feeding on the old man. Still, the boy had a point.
“And I think that if you could clear his mind of what Mitchell did to him, give him back his true focus, he could be a powerful ally, and he could very well take up more of Mitchell’s time in battle than we ever could.” Damien pointed to the withered man in the chair. “If he were given back his direction, he may still be able to see this through.”
Foster weighed the options and decided that even if Damien was wrong and he still allowed Franklin to live, and somehow Franklin failed at every attempt at Mitchell perhaps the boy had a point. Franklin’s attempts to engage Mitchell and bring him down could keep his focus redirected…at least long enough that when they did structure a strike against the Monster Squad, they could coordinate it so that it did enough damage to truly cripple them.
“Very well,” Paul said. “I will give him another chance and hope that he proves useful. Hold his head and I will clear his mind of what Mitchell has done to him.” Foster smiled. “Then we shall see if your father has any real teeth and knows how to use them.”
When morning rolled around, Jack found the bed empty next to him. He slipped some clothes on and grabbed the walking stick that Nadia had brought him and strolled down to the kitchen. He didn’t feel the need to use the walking stick, but it was a gift from his beloved and it felt good in his hand.
Jack entered the kitchen and Nadia wasn’t there. He found some coffee and filled a mug, added some sugar and cream into it and walked out into the garden. Nadia wasn’t there either. He went past the stone walls and climbed the ramparts. He checked the tree line, but couldn’t see any movement there either. Coming back into the dining hall, he ran into Natashia.
“It is done?”
“By ‘it’ I take it you mean my mating with Nadia?”
Natashia’s eyes narrowed but she said nothing.
“Yes, it is done,” he said. “And I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”
“Stupid human!” she spat and spun around.
“Don’t you mean, ‘stupid wolf’?” he demanded.
Natashia spun on him, her eyes glowing amber, her voice a growl, “No. I meant what I said. Human. You are not worthy of my daughter.”
“It wasn’t just my choice, mom. It was your daughter’s as well. And the Fates,” he goaded.
“Insolent fool!” she yelled and advanced. Jack kicked his walking stick up into his hands and spun it like a bo stick. He assumed a defensive posture and prepared to knock out his mother-in-law’s teeth. She paused and laughed at him. “Seriously? You think you could stand against me?”
“Any day, any time, mom.”
She dropped her robe and although Jack’s impression was not ‘mom’, but ‘hot older sister’, she did nothing for him. It was probably the really high bitch-factor. Before he could think much more, she shifted and Jack faced her Halfling form. She nearly tripled in mass, standing close to seven foot tall and, if Jack’s assessment was right, close to four hundred pounds of rippling muscle, teeth, and claws, her reach would be unreal. Jack assessed the damage she could do and realized, even with his augmentation and nearly healed body, he was in deep shit.
He lowered his stance and took a half step back, assuming a forty-five degree angle, keeping the stick extended slightly to his front so that he could extend his reach. He knew it wouldn’t be enough.
He heard a noise behind him but didn’t dare divert his attention or he’d risk losing his head to his bitch in law.
“Mother!” Nadia screamed.
The bitch-in-law roared back, and every hair on Jack’s neck stood on end. Hell, even the hair on his arms and legs stood on end. He really thought that if they could, they’d jump off his body and run like hell. They’d seen what these damned things could do once before and no part of him wanted another encounter. The last time, they were armed with silver bullets and automatic weapons, but the wolves got the drop on them. Now, he stood here with little more than his dick in his hand. He was poorly outgunned.
“Come on, you foamy-faced bitch. If you’re gonna eat me, let’s do it now and get it over with. At least I’ll get the satisfaction of knocking a few of your teeth out before you do. And I hope to God I give you the worst case of indigestion you’ve ever had.”
Natashia paused and looked at him sideways. She actually stood sideways and…was she laughing at him? Seriously? Was he being laughed at by a seven foot tall she-bitch? Oh, hell no. Jack advanced and swung the walking stick as fast and hard as he could, aiming straight for her snarling mouth. But as fast as he was, she was faster. Her paw came up and caught the end of the walking stick and stopped him from connecting his blow. She gripped the walking stick and pulled it from his hands with one smooth motion, pulling him in closer to her at the same time.
Jack’s mind was racing as he was pulled in to his attacker. With her ginormous arms, the only chance he had to inflict any pain before his death would be to move in close and try to work her from the inside. As she pulled him in, rather than try to withdraw, he dove for her middle and tried to get inside her arms and land a blow…but before he could complete a thought, much less an action, she held him by both of his arms, just below the shoulders in her massive paws and lifted him from the ground.
“Mother, that’s enough,” Nadia said. “Obviously, he isn’t going to back down.” There was no panic in her voice. “I think he’s passed your test.”
Jack was struggling to get free but could barely breathe he was being held so tight. She had him held perfectly. He couldn’t get enough momentum to get a good kick, he couldn’t move left or right. All he could do was lift his forearms. So he did. He lifted both forearms into the furry chest of his attacker and grabbed…boobs? There were boobs under that hair?
The Halfling’s eyes widened momentarily and she looked down at the tiny man in her arms who now held her breasts in his hands and a low growl escaped her throat. His eyes nar
rowed and he stared right back at his bitch-in-law. He set his jaw and told her point blank, “Surrender now, or suffer the worst purple nurple to ever be laid upon man or beast!”
Natashia froze in surprise, then as best as Jack could tell, the wolf laughed so hard she dropped him.
In the blink of an eye, his bitch-in-law was human again and holding her sides. “My dear,” she gasped for breath, “I’ll give your man this much…he does have spunk.”
“I tried to tell you, mother. He is worthy,” Nadia said as she approached Jack and wrapped her arms around him.
“Would somebody mind telling me just what the hell is going on here?”
“Mother needed to be able to confirm to father that you would stand for me…no matter what,” Nadia explained.
“And you performed exemplary, my boy,” Natashia said embracing him.
“Umm…thanks. I think,” Jack said. “But this would be so much less awkward if you’d put your clothes back on.”
Natashia looked up at Jack and smiled. “But, Jack, just a moment ago you held my breasts in both of your hands…”
Jack was shocked! “Yeah...but…in self-defense!” Jack pleaded. “And if we are being totally honest, you were about to face the ‘titty-twister of death’…”
Natashia and Nadia both laughed as Jack sputtered.
Laura came out of the Base Exchange with the few things she needed. Her mind was still preoccupied with Matt’s behavior lately. He seemed to be hell-bent on destroying anything and everything no matter what the cost. It used to be, protect the squad first, take out the monsters after. But since the loss of Second Squad and the replacements blending so smoothly, she felt that he was taking chances. Or was he? Was it just her reaction to his desire to use whatever Evan could come up with? Or was he changing? What he did to set up Franklin seemed over the top and Evan went right along with it, happily.
Could she blame him? If somebody had locked her away and starved her for three years, she might be surprised what she would be willing to go along with. Still, she expected more from Evan.