by M. Lorrox
Charlie repositions Minnie so he can turn in his bed to look at Enrique. “Don’t ever try to compare yourself to others. There will always be someone that’s better in thing A or thing B, but that doesn’t mean that you should just give up. Besides, you got a hole burned in your leg from a flare, a nasty cut across your back from that explosion in Melgaard’s lab, and all that was after battling like, a thousand zombies.”
Enrique nods. “And a hairline fracture in my left arm and a cut across my dominant hand’s palm. I know sir, but...that June girl, she’s tiny. I’d never have believed she would even wake up, let alone take out that husky goon.”
Charlie swallows but otherwise doesn’t respond. At least she’s not dead... And Skip’s not dead. Maybe she just snapped last night in the lawn, and she’ll be her old self again.
While Skip sleeps in his room, June sits in front of the window once again. She pets a sleepy Rusty, who is curled up in her lap. He nuzzles against her hand, and she smiles. It’s good to see you, too.
Lieutenant Colonel Elian Schermer, the new commander of the Council Guard, didn’t get any sleep last night. She returned the truck she borrowed to Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport and got a ride to the hotel to collect her car, but before heading to the hospital, she did some legwork.
Her contacts at the National Security Agency, the Federal Bureau of Investigation, and the Central Intelligence Agency didn’t get any sleep either. At each agency, a team was assembled to put together a file on Væir, Dr. Melgaard, the recently deceased Robert Flaxman, and any correlations that exist between them. New Zealand’s Security Intelligence Service was also alerted to the potential threat Dr. Melgaard could pose, and they put a team together as well.
Now, Schermer drives back to the hospital with preliminary files stacked on the passenger seat. When she arrives, she finds High Councilor Vincent de Villablino still recovering in his room. “Good morning, sir, I have some updates for you.”
He hits a button on the wired remote and the back of his bed lifts. His eyes are bloodshot, and his white hair is disheveled. “Very good, Lieutenant Colonel. How is the situation in DC?”
She frowns. “It’s still under quarantine, but evacuations have been going through the night. Other outbreaks in the surrounding areas have been contained, but the casualties are high. Estimates are that eighty to ninety thousand people died yesterday between the Pentagon and DC.”
Vincent closes his eyes and shakes his head. “Damn that man—those men. Damn this group and whatever they’re after.” He opens his eyes to her and scowls. “Tell me you have something. Every instinct tells me that they have something even worse planned.”
Schermer nods, then holds up the stack of files. “We don’t have much yet, but we’ve got something.”
“Take a seat.”
She does, then she details what her contacts in the intelligence community have pulled together so far.
Vincent shakes his head. “That doesn’t tell us anything. A series of offshore accounts and shell companies?”
She shrugs. “Well, it tells us they’re organized and that they’ve been careful. We did find an account linked to Dr. Melgaard that had three hundred million dollars in it for about a week. Then it was cleared out and sent to another corporation’s account. It appears that this Væir group is sliding a lot of money from one place to another, and they have been for decades. We still have nothing on what the group actually is, though.”
“What about Melgaard’s and Flaxman’s travels in New Zealand? Councilor Simonsen says Flaxman made a number of trips out there.”
“We just know flight details. There’s no record of Melgaard or Flaxman ever spending a dollar or checking into any hotel or anything inside New Zealand. On paper, it looks like they flew in and out of the country but never stepped foot outside the airport. We’ve asked New Zealand’s intelligence community for assistance, but they’re all relatively small agencies. It’ll take time to get pertinent information from them.”
Vincent purses his lips while he shakes his head. “So, we know nothing new.”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
He looks at her. She’s smiling. “What did I miss?”
“Melgaard has been traveling there a lot, starting almost a decade ago. There’s no way he didn’t leave a trace during that time. He also sticks out in a crowd; he’s a rich swede with handicapped legs. New Zealand’s intelligence community will find something. Finally, Flaxman has only started visiting there the past couple years, but his travel dates have always overlapped with Melgaard’s. Flaxman was never there alone.”
“So, it looks like Flaxman was brought in then?”
“Yes, and that three hundred million being moved around was the same month as Flaxman’s first visit. We’ll dig up more, and we’ll get them, but it seems that we’re on the right track.”
“Right track to what? Their dirty laundry?” Vincent rests his head back on his pillow. “It appears that we are on their trail, but we’re still in the dark about their next move. We’ve been blindsided a few times by them already—we know they must not be underestimated. The question is, do we go in now, or do we wait?”
Schermer folds her hands on the stack of folders on her lap, and for a moment, she just looks at them. She drags a nail across her skin and watches the texture change. “Sir? Is that really the question?”
He rolls his head toward her and allows his eyes to close with the weight of his decision. “No, it’s not.” He opens his eyes to her. “Find the interim prime minister and Colonel Costanza, and send them to me. Also, call all the available knights and guards in the area to a meeting; we need to put together a team.”
She nods. “Yes, sir—”
“I’m not done, Lieutenant Colonel.” His nostrils flare. “I also want you to begin preparations to move all the elders that are here to a safe location, because we can’t stay in the hospital.” He shakes his head. “If I didn’t have this feeling of doom—this feeling that we cannot delay on our response to Væir—I’d suggest we all travel to one of the Order’s estates in Europe.” He sighs alongside a shrug. “Choose a nearby location we can move to easily. Keep the location undisclosed until after a full security sweep and until we start the transition.”
“I understand, sir—”
He growls, “Schermer, do not interrupt me!” He takes a breath and sighs. “Light a fire under your contacts’ asses. We’ll be sending a team as soon as we can, and I’d hate to send them without solid intel and resources.”
Schermer pauses, making sure Vincent is done speaking. “Yes, sir. There’s one other thing: we lost a Knight of the Order yesterday.”
He frowns. “Captain Sarkis, one of your senior guardsmen.”
Korina. My friend. “If it’s alright with you, I’d like to send her off with a chalice ceremony, while everyone is still here at the hospital.”
He nods slowly. “Find me when it is time.”
She stands and snaps into attention stance with her hands flat at her sides.
“Dismissed.”
Sadie and Charlie enter Vincent’s room.
He asks them to remain standing. “This will only take a moment. Mrs. Prime Minister, I’ve asked Lieutenant Colonel Schermer to begin the process of moving the Council and elders to a more secure, nearby location. Please make whatever arrangements you need. I hope we can leave here in a few hours.”
Sadie nods. “Very well.”
Vincent forces himself to sit up. “I also would like to discuss sending a team after Dr. Melgaard. We—”
“We must do so with haste.”
He furrows his brow. “Yes, we must. Please don’t…” He groans. That’s right, she’s the prime minister now. He softens his expression. “Pardon me.”
Charlie can’t help but smile. “With your permission, sir, I’d like to lead this mission. Allow me to
assemble a team and leave as soon as possible.”
Vincent nods. “Choose a small group and choose wisely. Lieutenant Colonel Schermer must stay with the Council as the Guard commander, and Lieutenant Tatsu must also stay as he is the only remaining senior guardsman. The rest of the Council Guard and Order of Knights are at your disposal.”
Charlie no longer smiles. “Sir, Tatsu and I have a history. I believe—”
Vincent raises his hand. “Tatsu stays.”
“You see, he and I—”
Vincent points at Charlie. “Do NOT make me say it again.”
Charlie holds his breath while he decides what to do. He deflates. “Yes sir.”
Vincent smiles at Charlie. “I do have a favor to ask of you, Arashi-Ōdachi. If at all possible, I’d like you to use your sword to kill Dr. Melgaard and whoever he’s working with. If that can’t be managed, at least feed it their blood... As much of it as you can.”
Charlie allows his lips to creep into a grin. “It would be my pleasure.”
“Be prepared to receive a mission briefing from Lieutenant Colonel Schermer soon, before we move the Council. Until then, rest up.” Vincent lays back down. “Dismissed.”
Schermer finds an adequate bowl to use for Korina’s ceremony, and her phone rings. It’s General William Campbell. She takes a deep breath and finds a place to sit down. “General, I need to ask a favor.”
When she hangs up from her conversation with him and stands, before her screen returns to black, she receives a call from Jules. Her expression relaxes as she raises the phone beside her short, blonde hair. “You got my message... Thank you for calling me back.”
“Of course. I told Charlie...Colonel Costanza that I’d be happy to help.”
Schermer bites her lip. “So, what have you got for us?”
“A fixer by the name Johannes. He’s based in Hawaii, and he can help you in New Zealand.”
She smiles. “Where will the team find him?”
“I assume the team will be stopping to refuel at Pearl Harbor-Hickam?”
“That’s correct.”
“Johannes will meet them on the runway.”
Schermer sighs. “Jules, thank you.”
“Good luck.”
-click-
Dr. Melgaard and his jet land on the north island of New Zealand, in Auckland, but only to refuel. A little over two hours later, they land in Queenstown on the south island. As the jet taxis into the open doors of a hangar, a large helicopter outside starts to spin up its blades.
Waiting for the jet inside the hangar is Dr. Kazumi Oshiro and a security guard. Kazumi’s black hair is pulled into a tight ponytail, and her rimless glasses are barely visible around her vibrant green eyes. When Lars walks out of the plane and sees her, he makes a point to seem pleasant.
Kazumi also forces a smile.
The bay door to the hangar is open, and a wind blows Lars’ hair into his face. He brushes it aside with a scowl. When he reaches Kazumi on the ground below, he motions to the case she holds in her hand. “Ready for work I see.”
“Always. Is Ms. Wollstone still unconscious?”
“Indeed.” Lars checks his watch. Still on Eastern. “What’s the local time?”
“Four am. The helicopter is waiting. Are you going first or are you sending her?” She lifts the case. “I want to get to work as soon as I’m able.”
He scowls. “You’re to save all material collected from Ms. Wollstone. You remember that I have additional—”
Kazumi clears her throat and motions to the helicopter outside. “I have all the sample containers in the helicopter, and I will save every bit from her.”
He nods. “Good. You, Mary, and her nurse will go first. The boys and I will take the next trip.” -Clong!-
The two men on the security detail carry Mary out on a stretcher, and the man walking backward slipped on a step. He smashes into the metal railing of the plane’s stairwell to catch himself, and he jostles the stretcher.
Erica Wakkana turns and smacks the man on the back. “Watch it! Be careful with her.”
“Sorry, ma’am.”
Lars turns back to Kazumi. “Everything is ready as I instructed?”
She dips her brow toward him. “Of course. I’ll see you back at The Plant.” She walks out the bay door to the helicopter.
He nods, then returns to the plane to get his samples. He checks the most recent culture, one that he started only an hour ago, and a smile consumes his face. This...is unbelievable! He does some quick math. We’ll be able to move much faster than we thought! He sits back in the chair and shakes his head. We can launch all angles of our attack…within a week.
On the helicopter, once Mary is loaded in and the other passengers climb aboard, the doors are shut, and the blades begin to spin faster. Erica puts on a headset that includes a boom microphone, and she turns on her transmitter. She looks at Kazumi, who is studying Mary’s roughly amputated arm. Erica places a hand on Kazumi’s forearm to get her attention, then she points to another headset.
Kazumi puts it on and turns on the radio transmitter. “What’s up?”
“Lars had me up all night working. I hope your last thirty-six hours have been less crazy than mine.”
Kazumi smiles and opens her case across her lap. On one side sits shiny surgical tools: scalpels, forceps, clamps, tongs, and a saw. On the other sits a set of industrial calipers—accurate to one one-hundred-thousandth of an inch, a rack of pins and tubes of different sizes, and a small hammer. “I’ve been busy as well.” She picks up the saw and motions to Mary. “She’s being held under I take it?”
Erica grimaces while imagining the blood spurts that will accompany the next few minutes. “Deep under. Can’t you wait until we land? I don’t think shaky helicopters make good operating rooms.”
She shrugs. “No time to spare. I’ll go slow.”
“I’m going to close my eyes, alright?”
Kazumi turns away and rolls her eyes. If you don’t have the stomach for this, it’s a damn good thing you don’t know what you’re helping us do. She sighs and motions to Mary. “Help me first. Rip off the rest of that sleeve and lift her arm.”
Mary’s coat’s sleeve is long gone, but some bloodied fabric of her coat and blouse still hangs over her upper arm. Erica finds the seams at the shoulder and carefully tears the fabric. Finally, she lifts the stump of Mary’s arm while Kazumi places an additional tourniquet on it, closer to the shoulder. “Great, thanks.”
Erica sets the arm back down. “Sure.” She turns away and closes her eyes to hide from the horrific scene she’s already imagining.
Kazumi places the saw a few inches up from the tip of Mary’s arm stump—in the middle of her upper arm—just below the new tourniquet. “Now pass me that box of sample containers from behind you, please. And get some gauze pads ready; this is going to be messy.”
Lieutenant Colonel Schermer gathers all Knights and Squires of the Order present at the hospital, including all available Council Guards. Elders and members of the High Council are also invited, but for this assembly, they collect in the back.
Schermer, who doesn’t hold the highest rank in the Order of Knights, but who holds the highest commission as Commander of the Council Guard, stands in one corner of the small hospital lounge. In her arms, she holds a large glass bowl filled with blood, and beside her stands Jambavan, the Order’s newest knight.
Vincent is wheeled into the room, and he nods to Schermer.
She clears her throat, and the room falls silent. As she looks deep into the eyes of every vampire in the room, her own eyes water. “We lost a knight yesterday. As a senior officer on the Council Guard, you knew her as Captain Korina Sarkis. You knew her as a peer, as a brave warrior at your side, and as a friend.
“We also welcome her most recent squire, Jambavan, into the Order of Knig
hts.”
While his eyes were downcast and sorrowful, he looks up and breathes deep.
Schermer passes him the bowl of blood. “Jambavan, take this blood and drink. The blood that fills our veins, that spills our wounds, and that marks our graves binds us together. Know that your knight lives on in your blood, as she does in ours.”
He takes the bowl and raises it to his lips. He hides the pain from last night’s injuries, and he pauses, waiting for the phrase he knows must come.
“Life in the blood—”
He takes a sip and swallows. “Death in the blood.” He passes the bowl to a tall knight beside him. “Life in the blood—”
Gabriel takes the bowl and drinks. “Death in the blood.”
After a couple minutes, every other knight and squire present has sipped from the bowl, and it is passed back to Schermer. She drinks and speaks the mantra, then she hands the bowl once again to Jambavan.
He stares into the last sip of blood that sits in the bowl, and he waits.
Schermer extends her hand toward the bowl. “This ceremonial vessel is sacred now, because it has bound us together today. We knights, however, are servants to the Vampire Order. We are vessels ourselves in that service. We need no relic to remind us of our fallen sister, for she lives on within us.”
Jambavan raises the bowl to his lips and drinks the last of the blood within it. Then, with all his energy—fueled by both his sadness and his rage—he hurls the bowl to the ground below him.
-SMASH!-
The simple glass bowl, turned into a relic, is destroyed. The shards blast between the legs of the vampire knights and squires, but not one of them flinch.
While Jambavan breathes hard beside her, Schermer nods. “Our fallen sister’s knight’s name, Neith, shall forever be remembered.