by Craig Zerf
‘So, human,’ she said. ‘You despise me and my kind? How little you know, imprisoned in your tiny lives of quiet desperation. Living out your three score and ten in constant fear of death. No wonder that you hate us. With your miniscule existences and your hollow lives.’
The Prof raised an eyebrow. ‘Oh no,’ he said. ‘I despise you because of your lack of respect for the furtherment of knowledge. Look at you and your kind, as you say. Countless decades of life and experience but so little increase in comprehension. Of understanding. It is a sad waste of forever.’
‘Human,’ chuckled Merlin. ‘I suppose, strictly speaking,’ he admitted. ‘I could still be considered human. Although I must admit, I stopped feeling as such many centuries ago. But, yes, I identify with the human race so, I suppose that you are correct, vampire, I am human.’
‘Who are you?’ Asked the vampire.
The ancient magician smiled. But there was no humor in his expression. ‘I am Merlin.’
The vampire blanched. ‘But you’re dead. Everyone knows that.’
‘Well, everyone is wrong,’ said Merlin with more than a trace of smugness. ‘And this,’ he continued. ‘Is the infamous, professor Brownstone.’
‘The Boggart,’ gasped the blood sucker.
‘The very same,’ agreed Merlin jovially as he walked forward and placed his hands on the vampires head.
‘What are you doing?’ She asked, her voice shaking with fear now that she knew who she was facing.
Merlin didn’t answer; instead he closed his eyes and concentrated. The vampire stiffened as she felt the magician’s mind take hold of her and roughly delve into her memories. Desperately she tried to fight him but it was like trying to hold onto a parachute in a gale. She saw her recent thoughts flash before her as Merlin stripped them from her consciousness. Walking, feeding, hunting, sleeping.
Merlin opened his eyes and removed his hands. ‘Got it,’ he said. ‘She shares a nest with five other blood suckers. Troy killed the one when he picked her up. The others are still there. I have the address. I’m off to tell William,’ he said to the Prof. ‘I have no further need of her,’ he continued. ‘Do with her as you wish.’
The Boggart nodded. ‘Excellent,’ he said. ‘I have been looking for a test subject for a few of the new weapons that I have been working on. I shall ask Tag to help me dispose of the body afterwards.’
The vampire whimpered in terror.
***
Troy’s team hit the nest as soon as he got the address. William had told him to wait for another team to join as backup but the young wolf was too impatient. Once again his Purebloods had no chance to participate. They entered the house by just smashing through the front door.
The three vamps were sitting in the lounge as the sun had already gone down. Troy changed as he ran into the room and by the time the SAS team members had entered behind him he was already engaging all of the vamps at once. The combat lasted a little over four seconds of hyper speed violence and afterwards all three blood suckers had been decapitated and torn asunder.
Troy changed back and one of the team members threw him a pair of tracksuit bottoms. As he was slipping them on one of the Purebloods approached him. His name was Benjamin Kingsman, he was slightly older than the others and he held the rank of sergeant when he was in the SAS.
He put his hand on Troy’s shoulder. ‘You alright?’ He asked.
‘Sure,’ acknowledged the young wolf. ‘They didn’t touch me.’
The sergeant nodded. ‘Look, boss,’ he continued. ‘You’re team leader, so what you say goes. But if I may speak freely?’
Troy nodded.
‘Good,’ said Benjamin. ‘Stop acting like such an ass.’
Troy did a double take. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean, sir,’ continued the sergeant. ‘That we are a team. There are five of us and, like it or not, us Purebloods all have SAS military training. In fact we bloody specialize in these sorts of scenarios, barring the whole vampire side of it. So next time, sir, before you go crashing into the target area like some sort of bruiser on steroids, take a few seconds to ensure that you do things correctly.’
‘Hey,’ argued Troy. ‘There’s no problem. I got them all.’
‘This time,’ stressed Benjamin. ‘But next time, who knows? Maybe our intel isn’t perfect and there’s another two vamps in the kitchen. Maybe there’s ten vamps. So I suggest that we recce the next target. Cover all of the exits and then go in. Agreed?’
Troy looked a little sheepish. ‘Agreed. Sorry Benjamin. I wasn’t thinking.’
‘It’s cool,’ said the sergeant. ‘Oh, and one more thing, you don’t need to prove anything, sir. We all know that you are one serious bad ass.’
Troy smiled. ‘Well there you’re wrong, sergeant,’ he said. ‘When your nickname’s Puppy, then you sorta gotta prove yourself. Every bloody day.’
Benjamin nodded his understanding and patted Troy on the back. ‘Well, not to us you don’t, sir,’ he said. ‘Not to us.’
***
Two days later one of the teams based outside London captured a vamp. After Merlin had stripped the required knowledge from him the team raided a house and killed another two of the bloodsuckers.
A week after that Troy’s team did the same. With Emily in charge of communicating with the teams, the process was slicker, faster and more reliable.
They were still getting calls from Guardians that were too far away from any of the teams to help but, on the whole, both Emily and William were pleased with the results.
Vampires were dying. The Pack was hunting.
Humanity was back in the game.
Chapter 28
‘Alaska,’ said Reg ‘The Savage’ Parsons.
‘I know that they live in Alaska, moron,’ snapped Nathan. ‘I told you that, remember?’
‘Yes, lord,’ said Reg. ‘Sorry.’ He took a map out of his jacket pocket and unfolded it on the table. It was a highly detailed map of Alaska. There was a red circle drawn on it.
Nathan glanced down at the scale guide at the bottom right hand corner of the map and did some quick calculations. ‘That circle encompasses an area of around ten square miles,’ he said. ‘I wouldn’t exactly call that pin point accuracy, would you?’
‘No, lord Nathan,’ agreed Reg. ‘But no worries. There’s nothing else there so it shouldn’t be hard to track them down.’
‘Fine,’ said Nathan. ‘Send a team of familiars. Professionals. We can’t afford a mistake. Ask our Italian brothers if they have any recommendations.’
‘Really?’ Questioned Reg. ‘I mean, lord, they’re just a couple of old retired professors living in the ass end of nowhere. Look,’ he threw a pair of passport photos down on the desk.
Nathan saw two older middle age people. A large man with long beard and unkempt hair, gray at the temples. And a women of oriental extraction. Tiny. Small boned like a bird. ‘Yep, I’m sure that you’re right. But they’re important, so send the best.’
Reg nodded and left.
Nathan stood in the center of the room. Thinking. Five of their brethren’s dwellings had been hit by the wolves in the recent few days. How? It was impossible to patrol and police an area the size of the United Kingdom with so few people. But, somehow, they were doing it. And, as a result, his brethren were dying. Worse, he still had no idea who, or where the wolves were.
However, he knew one person. Emily. Somehow this was all linked to her. She was bright, powerful and stubborn and he had underestimated her again and again. But no more.
Nathan was convinced that the girl was the glue holding the resistance together. The lynchpin of the attacks against his new family.
So he had tracked down her foster parents, hoping that he could somehow use them against her. If he threatened them he knew that she would come for them. Now all that he had to do was think of a way of letting her know as soon as he had them in his custody.
And if she surprised him once again and simply refused
to play ball…well then, he mused, he would simply consign them to the feeding pens. Win, win.
And then afterwards he might even send Emily Hawk a few of their body parts. Just for a laugh.
The head Bloodwraith chuckled to himself. Prissy little miss-know-it-all, he said under his breath.
He would show her.
Chapter 29
‘Ryoko my darling,’ whispered Bart as he gently shook the tiny Oriental woman awake. ‘They’re here.’
‘Are you sure?’ She asked.
‘Definitely,’ answered her husband. ‘They have breached the outer perimeter, set off the silent alarms. The infrared cameras show that there are four of them. They move well but seem unused to the snow. Most probably city folk, not outdoorsmen.’
‘We knew that it was inevitable,’ said Ryoko. ‘We haven’t heard from Emily but it was only a matter of time before her enemies tracked us down to use as some sort of leverage.’
Bart smiled. ‘Well, we’re prepared so I reckon that this will not end well for them. Whoever they are.’
As he talked the two of them got dressed. Firstly, Extreme Cold Vapor Barrier Boots, or Bunny Boots as the Alaskans called them. This was followed by the Generation 3 Extended Climate Warfighter Clothing System that had been developed by the US Army. A system consisting of twelve separate sets of breathable insulated clothing. An absolute necessity for anyone planning to spend any extended time outdoors in a state where the current temperature was standing at minus six degrees Fahrenheit. The gear featured a disruptive digitized snow camouflage print so it blended well into the snow covered terrain outside.
Finally they each grabbed an MP5SD3, the Heckler & Koch submachine gun with a built in silencer. Bart also slipped a couple of incendiary grenades into his pockets after strapping on his webbing, his extra ammunition, water and energy bars.
Ryoko grabbed a sheaf of ten shuriken, or Japanese throwing stars, and clipped them to her belt.
Then the two of them slipped out of the house and disappeared into the trees, searching for the people that had come for them.
***
The four men usually worked alone or, sometimes, in groups of two. That all four had been sent on the same mission meant that the target, or targets, were of unusual importance. But all of them did wonder what target of any importance would be stuck out here in the middle of nowhere surrounded by snow and trees and more snow.
The men all worked for the Calvoneti Crime family based in New York and they came highly recommended by the Italian Nosferatu. On the whole, they were basically strong arm boys but they also did the odd hit and had been involved in more than a few kidnappings.
Even though sending all four was considered so much of an overkill that it verged on insult, Nathan had insisted and the money offered had been of sufficient quantity to offset any alleged sleight on their skills.
They had been dropped by helicopter some two miles from the residence and had trekked in using snow shoes to aid their movement through the deep snow. All four wore top of the range Ferrino designer outdoor winter wear. Top of the range, Italian designed and hand stitched garments suitable for the coldest European winters. And all four were the coldest that they had ever been.
‘Hey, Louis,’ called Jackie Pigolli, a short wide man who was, nominally, the leader of the group in that he had been a made-man longer than the rest of them. ‘Chuck us another handful of the warmer-things you got. I’m freezing my ass off here.’
Louis delved into his fanny-pack, pulled out a few disposable hand warmers and threw them to Jackie. ‘There. Careful I only gots about ten left.’
Jackie cracked the seals and slid one into each glove and slipped another three down his shirt. ‘Holy Mother,’ he cursed. ‘Who knew that the world could get so friggin cold. I swear. And what’s with this constant night crap? I friggin hate the dark. Not in the city, I mean this country dark. It’s unnatural. At least there’s a full moon but that’s almost worse, it makes everything this freakin’ blue color, it’s driving me crazy. Mi sta facendo impazzire. We shouda asked double pay for this.’
‘We did,’ interjected Johnny Rockwell. The youngest in the group. Tall, handsome, slicked back black hair and what Louis referred to as ‘an attitude’. ‘In fact they’s paying us triple.’
‘Yeah, well, it’s not enough,’ snapped Jackie. ‘What good’s money when you’ve frozen your nuts off? What you think, Carmine?’ he asked the fourth member of the group.
Carmine didn’t even bother to acknowledge his boss’s comments. It wasn’t that he was pointedly ignoring him, it was simply that Carmine never talked unless he deemed it totally necessary. Ever. And most of the time he deemed it ‘not necessary’. As he stood at six foot eight and weighed in at slightly more than a recreational vehicle, no one argued the fact. Or more pointedly, no one had argued the fact and lived to talk about it.
Jackie didn’t push the question and instead looked at his Garmin portable geolocator, checking the screen to see that they hadn’t strayed off course. ‘Still heading the right way,’ he said. ‘Another mile. Just under, maybe.’
The group trudged on through the snow, picking their legs up in an exaggerated manner in order to account for the three foot long snowshoes.
‘Almost there,’ noted Jackie. ‘Now remember, boys,’ he continued. ‘We need them alive. You can rough them up all that you want but alive is the end game. Capish?’
There was a general murmur of agreement.
‘Hey,’ snapped Jackie. ‘I’m serious here. No killing. Especially you, Johnny, with you attitude problem. Okay?’
Johnny didn’t answer.
‘I’m talking to you, boy,’ repeated Jackie as he turned around to face the youngest member. But instead of seeing him in his position at the back of the group he saw his body lying curled up on the snow. ‘Crap, Johnny.’ Jackie walked back, moving as fast as he could. ‘Come on, guys,’ he urged as he reached the supine body. ‘Looks like Johnny here took a tumble. Give us a hand.’ He rolled the young man on his back. And flinched back in a perfect double take.
Sticking out of Johnny’s right eye was the tip of a metal star. The rest had been embedded deep into his skull. Blood ran down his face and dripped onto the pristine snow, the moonlight turning the red into black and the snow glowed blue. A surreal nightmare.
The remaining three men drew their weapons as one. They all carried slightly different variants of the Smith & Wesson model 19. A revolver chambered for the powerful .357 magnum round. Louis and Jackie favored the 4 inch version except that Jackie had gone for a custom gold plated job. Carmine, in keeping with his size, sported the 6 inch weapon in stainless steel.
‘What the hell is that thing?’ Shouted Louis as he pointed at the shuriken in Johnny’s eye.
‘Don’t know,’ answered Jackie. ‘Doesn’t matter. Whatever it is, stay well clear of any more of them, they definitely appear to be hazardous to your health.’
‘Hey, boss,’ rumbled Carmine. ‘You think that the rules still apply?’
‘What rules?’
‘The no killing rules, boss.’
‘No,’ snapped Jackie. ‘Screw the rules. If you see anyone, shoot them.’
The group of three hunkered down in the snow, peering into the cobalt darkness of the moonlit night, searching for their assailant.
Then there was a flash of movement and a small object about the size of a baseball arced through the air towards them.
‘You gotta be shitting me,’ exclaimed Jackie. ‘Grenade.’
The men jumped to their feet and shuffled away as fast as their snowshoes would allow, dropping to the ground and burrowing into the snow as soon as they were a few yards away.
The incendiary grenade exploded with a loud pop and the area was showered with a hail of burning phosphorous. The immediate vicinity was instantly shrouded in thick white smoke that cut visibility down to almost zero.
And out of the smoke stepped a tall man with a gray beard. In his hands he hel
d a MP5 submachine gun. The weapon burped twice.
Louis went down hard, three bloody entrance wounds stitched across his chest.
Jackie rolled to one side but was still struck by two of the rounds. One in his shoulder and the other high in his chest. It burned like he was on fire.
The smoke cleared to find Carmine still standing in the center of the clearing. Like a mountain in the snow. Immovable. He raised his revolver. But before he could take aim a tiny women skipped across the snow and kicked the weapon from the huge man’s hand. It tumbled away to get lost in the snow.
Carmine turned to face the woman, but his movements were slow and clumsy, hampered by his enormous snow shoes. The tiny Oriental woman jumped into the air, spinning as she did so. The heel of her boot struck Carmine on the nose with a sound like an axe chopping wood. The huge man went down like he had been shot. As he hit the ground the woman knelt next to him and delivered a knife hand strike to his neck.
Jackie heard the big man’s vertebrae shatter, saw him twitch a couple of times and then still.
The man with the beard walked over and stood above Jackie. ‘Well that didn’t work out the way that you imagined,’ he observed.
‘Sure didn’t,’ agreed the mafia hit man. ‘We should have asked for triple pay.’
‘Would have done you no good.’
Jackie chuckled. ‘True words you speak, my friend.’
Bart pointed his MP5 at Jackie’s face. ‘I am not your friend,’ he said as he pulled the trigger.
***
It took Nathan four days to come to the conclusion that he had, once again, underestimated the situation. The mafia team had failed. But he was not the sort of vampire to make the same mistake again. This time he sent a group that he knew would succeed. Reg and four Bloodwraiths.