Winter Warriors

by Denise A. Agnew

  Taking this as a sign of Aunt Zenip’s fabled inspiration, Nur set off across the fields towards the farmhouse.

  Since there was little cover, other than dry stone walls, she ran at full tilt, knowing her speed would leave her just a blur, if anyone was watching.

  Seemed no one was. She half-dreaded a repetition of the ‘lights on’ of last night, but nothing. Just an old, rundown, farmhouse, an even more dilapidated barn, and the plane parked on a short runway. That in itself was odd. Why have a runway by a seemingly abandoned farm? What was even odder was a shiny antenna on the barn roof, and what looked like microwave disks. Definitely not standard farm equipment. And they’d thoughtfully placed it away from the road to avoid notice.

  She climbed up the side of the barn farthest from the house, and avoiding the loose slates and rotten beams as best she could, perched on a reasonably sturdy corner and peered in through a generous gap in the slates.

  No Hollywood-style gleaming construction, just an old barn, with a dirty floor, puddles where water had collected from yesterday’s rain, an iron elevator cage in one corner such as she’d seen in pictures of coal mines, and a concrete floored dog run, with three rather nasty-looking canines.

  As she perched there, wondering what to do next, she heard voices. Two men entered the barn from the direction of the house.

  “What about the trouble last night?” one asked. “I came down to check on things.”

  “All taken care of. No point in pressing charges. By the time the complaints are filed and processed, everything will all be over. We had a minor false alarm late last night, motion lights came on, but nothing there, probably a deer or something. It was an annoyance, the locals have been a problem all along, but not much longer. They’ve a protest—legal this time, unfortunately—on Sunday, but it won’t alter anything.”

  “You cannot fail, you know.”

  The other punched a button on the elevator cage. “We won’t. The low-level experiment last month took care of one of the dogs and a couple of trees. All our research points to increased power during the solstice. We’ll take it out, and no one will ever know how.”

  The noise of the rising cage alerted the dogs, they silenced at a command. “Two more days,” the second said as the cage arrived and he opened the gate. “Now, the next…”

  His words were lost as the cage descended.

  Interesting. They’d killed a dog, the bastards! And planned worse. Two days, that made it Monday. That didn’t leave her much time, but since she was here, she might as well look around, now that the coast was clear.

  The place appeared convincingly deserted. Had those men come in together? Had one flown himself in or was there a pilot somewhere? Someone had to stay here to take care of the dogs.

  There had to be more people. Somewhere.

  At least her suspicion of an underground bunker was confirmed. Was it under the stones? Or under the barn with a tunnel from the stones? The distance explained why the construction went unnoticed. Everything had entered and left via the farm. Fair enough, but what in the name of creation was going on?

  She crossed the farmyard, noting the dead grass between the cobbles and the cluster of dilapidated outbuildings, and approached the house. Years of grime obscured the windows, and the front door looked as if it hadn’t been opened in decades. The side door was unlocked and opened easily on oiled hinges. Nur listened. No heartbeats, breathing, or motion, she stepped inside and closed the door behind her.

  Chapter Ten

  She was in a small scullery, with an old china sink and wooden draining boards. She crossed the cracked and worn floor covering, into what had once been the farm kitchen, with a rusty, black stove in the fireplace, yellowed tiles, and paper hanging off the walls. A fast circuit through the house revealed varying degrees of dilapidation. Seemed everything of possible interest was at the other end of the elevator shaft. This was just for landing, and camouflage. How many were down there? Two at least, and the handlers of the dogs last night had to be somewhere.

  While Nur stood on the upstairs landing trying to decide if it was worth her trouble to explore the attic, she heard the drone of another plane, and crossed back into the empty bedroom to look. Another small plane was circling. How many more? Had to be the gathering of the conspirators for whatever was scheduled for Monday.

  Her attention focused on the plane, Nur heard nothing until she felt the gun in her neck, and the voice, devoid of all Yorkshire accent, telling her to, “Turn around.” She complied, looking with interest at the blue eyes and light brown hair of the young man, dressed in a gray suit and dark green tie. He could be a secretary or an assistant, if he hadn’t just moved a large caliber Sig Siger to her left breast. “What are you doing here?”

  She heard the plane coming in to land. Hoping he wasn’t armed with armor-piercing bullets, Nur grabbed him by the shoulders, butted her head hard against his, and smelled fresh, warm blood spurting from his broken nose just as the force of the bullet pushed her backwards. Her grasp was tighter than she realized. Together they fell back against the window. The old wood gave way, and they both fell through. Nur shifted as they dropped and her assailant landed first. As she stood up, it was clear he wouldn’t be reporting this incident to anyone. But the new arrivals would find out soon enough.

  Time to do a vamp exit.

  She raced across the farmyard and the neglected fields, leaving the shouts behind her. Obviously, they’d heard the shot and investigated. She half-regretted not climbing back on the roof to listen to the reactions, but she was at the road now, and kept going.

  She slowed after a while. Her chest hurt like blazes, and it was full light. Somehow she had to get back into her room, without being seen. She was getting into an unfortunate habit of returning covered with blood. At least it wasn’t hers this time.

  But her sweatshirt was soaked, and walking into the front door of the Four in Hand with blood all over her face would not be a good idea. She took a little detour to find a spot upriver of the town, knelt by the bank, cupped her hands, and washed.

  Hoping she looked less like a nightmare, she jogged, at almost mortal pace, along the towpath into the town, and then up the High Street towards the hotel.

  Nur stopped at her car, and was locking it back up when a hand rested on her shoulder.

  She spun around, ready to take another assailant, and looked up at Mike’s blue eyes. “What the hell have you been doing? You look as if you’ve been though a hedge backwards!”

  She didn’t even try to hold back the laugh. “It wasn’t a hedge, actually. It was an upstairs window.” There! Might as well save herself all the questions.

  It didn’t work.

  Mike scowled at her, no other word for it. “Do you have a death wish?”

  She couldn’t stifle the chuckle. It was the wrong response. “For Christ’s sake, Yildiz! Have you no sense? Wasn’t last night enough?”

  “I am unhurt Mike, not even walking wounded. You’re making an unnecessary fuss.”

  “Really? And are you strolling into the hotel like that?”

  She must look worse than she realized. “I don’t have much choice.”

  “‘Strewth, woman! You’re lucky someone hasn’t called the police, or the bomb disposal squad. You look awful!” He took hold of her arm. “You can’t go in there looking like that! You’re coming with me!”

  Irritated as she was at him, she liked the touch of his skin and the closeness as she let him all but frog-march her to his car. “You can get cleaned up at my place. Save you getting arrested as a suspected axe murderer.”

  She wasn’t sure why she was letting a mere mortal tell her what to do. But it made sense, if her appearance was as attention getting as he suggested. Pity she didn’t have any clean clothes. She needed them. Desperately. She felt as if she had half the barn roof, and the muck of the farmyard all over her.

  “Where have you been?” Mike asked as he started the car and backed into the road. “You smell as if
you’ve been rolling in a sewer.”

  “Thank you for the compliment. It was a farmyard actually.” She gave him a drastically abbreviated version of her morning.

  He almost hit another car at the traffic light. “You must be nuts!” he muttered as he swerved and straightened out the wheel. “What the hell did you go out there for?”

  “I thought I’d made that clear.”

  “Clear as mud!” he snapped, glancing at her. “And you seem to have plenty of that on you. I should have covered the seat with plastic.”

  “You could have let me go upstairs and shower.”

  “And have everyone in the place talking about it? If you really are out to be unobtrusive, you’re better off with me.”

  Maybe, but he was a major distraction, on the other hand, she needed him to get in touch with Sam. Information about ley lines seemed more urgent that ever, and smelling the way she did, Mike was unlikely to get carried away with passion. She shut her eyes, leaning back on the seat. She’d offer to have his upholstery redone once this was over.

  He drove beyond the outskirts of the town, to a village a short distance away, and pulled up in front of a small, stone cottage. It was like a miniature version of the farmhouse she’ll fallen out of, a little while earlier, but much better cared for.

  The cozy sitting room and a kitchen behind were simply furnished with well-used, comfortable furniture, new wall to wall carpet, and an obviously top of the line TV, DVD player and stereo system.

  “The bathroom’s upstairs,” Mike said, and led the way. Pushing open a door onto a sparse but newly redone bathroom, with his shaving things still lying by the basin. “Help yourself to what you need,” he said, crossing to a cupboard in the corner to fetch a couple of towels, “and give me your clothes.”

  She must have gaped. She did feel the draft on her tonsils. “What?”

  “Your clothes, Yildiz. I’ll put them in the wash, you don’t really plan on putting them back on as they are do you?”

  Good point, and after all, he’d seen everything already. “Okay.” She closed the lid on the toilet and sat down to untie her high-tops. Pulling them off, she glanced up and caught sight of herself in the mirror. She was lucky he even recognized her! She looked back at Mike. “I see your point. I look like a monster from the swamp!”

  “The black lagoon did come to mind.”

  “Sure you even want to touch my clothes?”

  “I can handle it.”

  She was getting the distinct impression he could handle most things. She stripped off. He raised eyebrows at the sight of the bullet-proof vest but all he said was, “Does that go in the washing machine too?”

  “Just the outside,” she replied, pulling off the cover.

  He departed with her filthy clothes in a bundle under his arm, her Kevlar over the other, and her shoes held at arm’s length.

  “You can borrow my bathrobe,” he said, nodding to the red plaid one hanging on the back of the door. “But only after you shower!”

  It wasn’t until she watched the pink-tinged blood washing down the drain, that she realized what a true mess she was in. She felt the bruise where the bullet hit. The warm water would only bring it out, but it was a small price to pay, and it was a thousand times better than the pain of a bullet wound. She shampooed her hair three times, until she was convinced that all the dirt and muck was down the drain, and cast another glance at her now-livid bruise. She’d just keep it covered for the next couple of hours, no point in shocking mortals.

  Mike didn’t have a hair dryer, so she settled for toweling it dry and smoothing her cropped hair, with his brush and comb. The bathrobe was soft fleece, and smelled of Mike. She smiled as she tied the sash around he waist and pulled up the collar against her neck.

  She was clean, presentable, and wished she had time to take advantage of Mike. But right now she needed his contacts, not his body. A pity.

  A double-pity, she amended to herself as she came downstairs and watched him kneeling by the fireplace setting a lighted match to the fire. He’d taken off his jacket, and from her vantage-point, Nur got a perfect view of his delectable ass, and rather impressive shoulders. His body was so beautiful, and her own gave a sweet throb of response remembering his luscious cock seated deep inside. No! This was far too distracting. Especially when the fire caught and the flames cast brilliant lights on his hair.

  “Thanks for the loan of your bathroom, and your robe,” she said stepping into the room. “I was a terrible mess.”

  “That’s what happens when you climb on barns and fall out of upstairs windows before breakfast.” He stood up and held out his hand. “Come on,” he said closing his long fingers over hers. “I’ve got the kettle on. Want tea or coffee?”

  It wasn’t Turkish coffee, but he ground the beans while the water boiled, and the taste matched the aroma. While she sat perched on a stool in the kitchen, Mike set a heavy pan on the stove, and reached into the fridge. “You look as if you need a good breakfast. Bacon and egg okay?”

  Her stomach clenched. “A boiled egg would be lovely.”

  He stared, and a second after, he got it. “Sorry, Yildiz. I forgot, no pork, right?” He put the packet back into the fridge and pulled out a carton of eggs, an onion, a couple of tomatoes and a box of mushrooms. “How about a throw everything-in-it omelet?”

  The man cooked almost as well as he made love. They perched plates on their laps as they sat by the warming fire. Outside it had started raining, but that only emphasized the coziness and companionship in the room. It would be so tempting to spend the day here with him, and she anticipated no difficulty getting his plaid shirt and well-wash jeans, off his body, but that was going to have to wait. “Did you call Sam?” she asked.

  Chapter Eleven

  He paused, nodding while he swallowed a mouthful of omelet. “He promised to go with his mother and gather mistletoe for the solstice. It’s bigger for them than Christmas. He’ll be over later. Give your clothes a chance to dry and us a while to…” He grinned “…talk.”

  Lascivious was the only word for the look in his eye, after all, she was sitting naked under his own robe. But much as the prospect pleased, her mind was off on a tangent. “When is the solstice?” She knew it was important in many ancient religions and…

  “Monday.” Mike looked up, creased his forehead when he saw her face. “What’s the matter?”

  “They’re planning something for Monday, it can’t be good. I have to stop them!”

  His hair glinted in the firelight as he shook his head. “The protest is Sunday, Yildiz. Tomorrow, and it’s all legal. They can’t do anything to stop it. Not like last night, that amounted to trespass.”

  “I’m not talking about that.” Their food and coffee went cold, as she told him the rest of what she’d learned.

  He was silent while she spoke, then downed the whole of his cold coffee in one go. “Sheesh! Yildiz! It sounds like the plot of a movie, or one of the adventure stories I used to read as a kid!” He looked astounded-but hadn’t said he didn’t believe her. “You really fell out of an upstairs window, backwards?’ She nodded. “And climbed on and off the barn roof, and jumped over the fence?”

  “Yes.”

  He didn’t say ‘sheesh!’. He was too dumbfounded, then, as if getting his mind back in gear, he reached for her right hand and turned it over. He must have noticed her lack of bandage, but not fully registered it. “You had a deep cut here last night.”

  “Yes.”

  “What happened?”

  “I healed.”

  “How? And if that’s so, why the bulletproof vest?”

  “Because bullet wounds hurt like hell. Something to do with the heat and the metal I think.” Pausing just a moment, she opened the neck of the robe, and showed him the fast-fading bruise. “I was shot this morning. I bruised but it will be gone soon. A bullet in me, and I’d have bled from here to everywhere.”

  His face showed what the thought of a bullet hitting her did t
o him. “Christ, Yildiz,” he said. “I’m going to age fast around you!” He reached out and gently caressed the bruise with his fingertips. “What are you?” he asked, “a bionic woman?”

  “No.” She didn’t even smile at his lame attempt to ease the tension. “I’m a moroii. My ancestors were gypsies in the days of the Ottoman Empire. They received the gift of living after death.” She’d sworn to herself she’d never share her nature with a mortal again. She had to be losing her reason, judgment, and survival instincts in one go, but she sensed her secrets were safe with Mike.

  “You’re a vampire!”

  “No!” That at least she could set right. “We do not kill. We do not harm unless attacked first, and we do not live solely on blood.”

  He ran both hands through his copper-colored hair. “Serves me right for asking!” He let out a long sigh, and began to relax, then stiffened. “You said you don’t live solely on blood, but you do live…partly…on blood.”

  “At times, yes, not often, once or twice a month maybe.” This was where Ahmet had repudiated her, and called her the work of evil. She barely breathed as Mike looked at her.

  “Last night…”

  “I took blood, just a little.”

  “Out of my thigh right?” She nodded. “I thought it was just a monumental love bite.”

  She made her lips not twitch. “It was. I didn’t just use you as food last night.”

  He frowned. He hadn’t yelled or hit her, but… “It wasn’t just sex either was it?”

  Now it was her turn to be surprised. “No. I felt a bond with you I’ve seldom felt, and never that intense.”

  “Me too. I’ve never felt that close to anyone.” He let out a strangled laugh. “Hardly surprising if half of what you just told me is true.”

  “It’s all true.”

  He stood up. “That’s what I was afraid of.” He picked up her coffee mug. “I think we both need another cup.”

  She followed him into the kitchen that looked out on a garden with bare trees surrounded with high hedges. “Mike,” she said, “will you hold me?”