"I thought we were going to talk. Now you're just giving me orders.” His eyes went flat and a rumble of a threat rose in his throat. “I'm not one of your Marines."
"That's obvious,” Scorpius replied. “I've heard just about every excuse you can think of, ranging from the ingenious to the criminally stupid. That, I have to admit, was original. But I ain't buying it."
Ben glowered, and then flashed a raw grin. “Fine. Take it.” He tossed the pipe to him. “Be happy. I'll be sober."
Rachel took a deep breath. The conflict between them wasn't over. Ben had given ground, but he wouldn't let his rival keep it. Since being bitten, and being transformed, he'd made some mental and emotional adjustments as well. He wasn't really a kid anymore, as difficult as that could be to grasp. He didn't look any older, but he certainly acted like it sometimes.
This was not one of those times. Ben turned and stalked out the front door, slamming it behind him.
Scorpius swiveled his head and regarded her coolly for a minute. “And you a cop.” He softened the sound of it with a teasing grin.
"A cop with much bigger battles to fight,” she replied with a shrug. “To be honest, I'm not so sure that was a good idea."
He looked askance at that. “Why?"
"Besides the fact he's a werewolf who's now pissed off at you, I wonder how much the pot does help him fight off the Beast."
His dark brows shot upward. “You're actually buying into that argument?"
She shrugged. “But for a few exceptions, pot tends to make people less violent ... It's not unreasonable to assume that it might do so for a werewolf as well."
Scorpius digested this. “Did he really try to eat someone?"
She nodded somberly. “I saw it. He's been wracked with guilt and self-disgust ever since. He'd do just about anything to prevent it from happening again."
"So you think I was wrong?"
She shook her head. “No. Not wrong, so much. Maybe a little ... over-enthusiastic about it. While most of us are just as ... unhappy ... about his choice to smoke, we've pretty decided to leave it alone for now. I have the feeling you may have won this round, but the next one isn't going to go as well."
"You may have a point,” he responded thoughtfully. “I'll watch my six."
* * * *
The fire team arrived as scheduled at four o'clock. The helicopter dropped out of the sky unannounced with a roar as loud as thunder. It touched down in an adjoining field and disgorged three men and a woman, all in Marine combat gear and carrying an assortment of arms and equipment.
They hit the ground running, zeroing in on where Scorpius waited on the front porch. As they arrived, in order, they saluted him and fell into a line in the front yard. The woman drew herself up to her full height—over six feet of slim, wiry, but undeniably feminine strength. She had dark eyes, full mouth, and a square jaw. “Team Havoc reporting for duty, Gunnery Sergeant Scorpius!"
"At ease.” Scorpius grinned down at them and began the introductions. He named Rachel and Amanda, and then quickly turned to the crew in front of them. “This young woman here is Corporal Tanya Bakshi."
The woman nodded, blue eyes cool as the glaciers they resembled.
"The farm boy next to her is PFC Ken Warren."
He did indeed look like a farm boy, straight off the bus from Kansas. He was big and bulky, but the bulk of hard labor, not lifting weights. His gaze met hers, frankly appraising as he ran thick fingers through his close-cut sandy hair. I'm damn near old enough to be your mother, kid, she thought, but his attention was a bit flattering nonetheless.
"PFC Esteban Rivos."
The Hispanic-looking young man inclined his head respectfully, a hint of Warren's interest sparking in his dark eyes. Of all of them he looked the least like a Marine. Where the others were hale and hearty, he looked a little on the skinny side. It was hard to imagine him successfully making it through boot camp, much less proving himself afterward with enough success to be assigned to a team like this one.
"And, last but not least,” he finished, “PFC Daniel Pollard."
This one looked like a meta—skin like solid silver marred only by the faintest of lines where a normal human's features would be transected by wrinkles and other marks. It seemed as supple as human skin would be, but she imagined it would be much tougher.
Make sneaking around in the dark a hell of a lot more difficult, I'd imagine.
Noticing her glance at the silver Marine, Scorpius hurriedly explained. “All of us are metas—Danny's just the only one's who's obvious about it."
PFC Pollard grinned in response—white teeth incongruous amidst all that silver skin.
"So what about the rest of them?” The fact that there was a Marine fire team made up entirely of metas surprised her. The military had mostly tried to ignore their existence, offering quite a few of those infected an easy way out with early retirement. They'd been forced to tread lightly—infected metas were considered to be victims of a disease. A case could be made for their being morally unfit for service, considering that they'd generally acquired the disease through casual unprotected sex, but that was one fact about the disease that hadn't been made public.
The Marines had apparently gone a different direction than the other branches of the military. It wouldn't be the first time, she mused.
"Corporal Bakshi's a sniper. She can clip a fly's wings at a hundred yards,” he said, sounding like he was exaggerating. When she gave him an odd look, his grin grew wider. “I know—sounds like a tall tale. With anyone else, I'd say it was. But I mean that more or less literally. She was good before she was infected—now she's absolutely amazing. We can only assume that it's a function of the metavirus in her system.
"Warren's strong looking, isn't he? Good Iowa farmer stock. Thing is the metavirus did a number on his musculature that you wouldn't guess by looking at him. The medical staff says his muscle density has increased by over a hundred percent over the last year and a half—since he was first infected. We're not sure where it's going to stop, but current calculations put his strength at over eight times a normal human his size. When he's not lifting tanks and bending rifle barrels, he's our demolitions specialist.
"Rivos can shoot bolts of bio-electrical energy from his hands. One bolt will stun. Two can kill. Leaves him weak as a kitten afterward, though.
"Pollard, as I mentioned, is our only obvious meta. He's a friggin’ ghost. That skin of his is highly reflective normally, but he can control it. A human chameleon. He can slip in and out of a secure area like a breeze."
Pollard winked at her and she suppressed a shudder. Something about someone who could turn effectively invisible bugged the hell out of her. Hope he's not some kind of voyeuristic pervert. She felt guilty even thinking it, but she'd been a cop long enough to see how this sort of talent could be easily abused.
She nodded, however, letting none of these unpleasant thoughts show on her face. “If it's okay with you, Gunnery Sergeant, your people can go ahead and make themselves comfortable for the time being. Our night owls won't be up and about for a few more hours. Enough time to brief them, I would assume."
* * * *
Cory's first thought upon awakening was that there were entirely too many humans in the house. He could smell their blood, hear their hearts pumping, and even overhear snatches of conversation and maybe even—are those their thoughts? Shrugging to himself he rolled out of the bed he'd shared with the other two vampires, and then shot a glance across the room at the chair where Deb Shine had curled up and effectively died.
One thing he'd already noticed was that, as far as his Get were concerned, he was an early riser. Peeking through the shades he quickly affirmed that the western sky was still a touch pink. Until that last trace of color disappeared the other three wouldn't rise. He sighed and slipped out the bedroom door.
And ran into Ben, who was prowling the hallway, looking irritated. “Hey,” he said.
"Hey,” the werewolf replied with a mu
ted growl. “Watch your step out there. We've got company."
"Yeah, I figured that. What's up?"
"Marines,” Ben answered. “Some squad sent down to help out by the bigwigs in Paranormal Affairs."
"Marines? Wow. That's the big time.” Cory was impressed. Marines usually got the job done. This job was a little beyond the usual call of duty, he realized, but he didn't see how a little more firepower could hurt.
Oh, it could hurt, he amended silently. Just not us.
Ben trailed him down the hall and into the living room, where a mingled group of friends, family, and strangers lounged more or less comfortably. His mother was sitting on the couch talking with a stubby little man whose short shirtsleeves revealed knotted muscle from his wrists to where his arms disappeared into his shirt.
He had a newspaper spread out on the coffee table in front of him and his disassembled sidearm placed carefully on the paper, chatting amiably with his mother while he cleaned and oiled each part in turn. Cory bent a little energy toward reading him and smiled to himself. Though much of his mind was on his duty and assigned mission, he could spare a little of his consciousness toward a burgeoning interest in the pretty brunette cop sitting next to him.
He ignored the sudden surge of emotion—jealousy mixed with a fierce protectiveness—that twisted in his guts for a minute. He didn't sense anything about this guy that should have worried him. Quite the contrary, actually. The impression Cory had was that this Marine would go to a great deal of trouble to see Rachel safe.
I can't ask for much more than that.
He hadn't expected to walk in on what was obviously a budding romance. It distracted him for a moment from the others, but that distraction didn't last long. His gaze skipped across the other Marines, his evaluations coming almost instinctively. The handsome young woman, the farmer's kid, the Cuban, and the man with the silver skin—all of them rang bells in his head it took a minute to shake out. They were all metas. He felt the truth of that as clearly as he could hear the beat of their hearts. All with the sort of drive and internal fire that, in their hearts and minds, meant I'm a Marine. I'm the best.
The Marine with his mother—he received a flash of intuition that told him that the man's name was Scorpius—glanced up at him with a startled look. Not used to being snuck up on, Cory thought, repressing a grin. He had the sudden impression that Scorpius wouldn't appreciate the humor.
* * * *
"Cory!” Rachel stood, smiling, reflexively putting a little more distance between herself and the Marine sergeant. She realized belatedly what she was doing and winced inwardly. She liked this guy, and was willing to bet that Cory already knew it. Since he'd changed he'd become far more sensitive than she would have imagined. Not on a par with Scorpius, but sensitive enough.
The Marine Sergeant's mental voice interrupted her musings just as she opened her mouth to make introductions. ::You expecting your kid to go all weird on us?::
She frowned and gave him a dirty look. ::Does he look like he's going to get weird about it?:: she asked, with a wry mental twist akin to a lopsided grin. She could get used to communicating this way. Assuming she had the chance. She knew Scorpius was attracted to her, as she was him, but he held all the cards. As far as any romance went between them, she was most likely just along for the ride. Once this little venture was over he'd be reassigned somewhere else and that would be that.
Didn't mean it couldn't be fun in the meantime.
"Cory, this is Gunnery Sergeant Julian Scorpius. These are his people—Sonya Bakshi, Dan Pollard, Ken Warren, and Estaban Rivos. Everybody—this is my son, Cory."
* * * *
Greeting the Marines politely, if not warmly, Cory found himself in the midst of an impromptu planning meeting as the other vampires came out and joined the living.
"What bothers me the most is that they couldn't have chosen a more defensible spot if they'd planned it,” Scorpius observed, eyes on the small hand-drawn map Cory had handed over. “The middle of a long canyon allows easy access from two directions only. Four if we want to repel down one of the canyon walls."
"Bound to be well-guarded,” Pollard observed. “They won't even need anyone down in the canyon itself. A few wandering patrols on each side on top would be enough."
"Enough for what? To call in below and let them know that we're coming? Then what? From what I can tell most of the human zombies wouldn't be a lot of help in a fight,” Shine observed dryly. “If we hit them fast and hard we can be down their throat before they know we're even coming."
"They're bound to expect it sooner or later,” Scorpius pointed out. “They know about you vamps, right? And the werewolf? And at least one cop—"
"—they probably think I'm dead,” Rachel interjected. “I don't think they're going to be expecting the Marines, though."
"Not yet, maybe. And certainly not metas. The whole world's wheels are spinning on how to handle all of us super-human types, so it's really unlikely they're going to be anticipating what we're about to do.
"On the other hand, it doesn't sound like this vampire woman of yours is stupid. I doubt any of her people—those she hasn't turned into mindless zombies, that is—are stupid either. They're bound to figure out that the government's going to get involved sooner or later.
"We do it tonight. And here's the plan..."
Seventeen
Chris Bounder lit a cigarette and stuffed the lighter back in his pocket. In the end this was a hell of lot better than his gig at the mall as a security guard. But, truth be told, guard duty of any kind was boring as hell. Especially when you'd been out there every night for the past week, watching the zombies trundle past dragging their wheelbarrows and shovels to help with the digging down below.
It could be worse. It could be a lot worse.
So he was thinking when the night came alive, snatched his smoke out of his mouth, and thrust hot spikes of fire into the side of his neck. He didn't even have time to scream before he was drowning in a swirling pool of gray fog, suddenly unaware of anything else, including his own name.
* * * *
Cory didn't drain him completely. Just enough to feed his thirst and leave the guy dazed for a while. He reached into his pocket and dragged out the duct tape and made quick work of binding the idiot. Smoking on guard duty. Sheesh. What a moron. He slapped another piece of tape across the guy's mouth. A bit of memory slipped in somewhere, carrying with it the fragments of a quote—from Napoleon, if he remembered right. “Never curse your enemies for being stupid...” or something like that.
The guards were apparently set to walk back and forth along the ridgeline, meeting in the middle before passing one another and continuing to the other end before turning back. Not a bad plan, all in all.
It helped if you weren't going to run into vampires or other things that go ‘bump” in the night. The vamps had been sent to take out the sentinels. Between the four of them they figured they could take them out with no one the wiser.
The guards were wearing communications headgear—handless jobs connected to a walkie-talkie attached to their belts. Cory divested his victim of his and put the earpiece in his ear. Silence. For now, anyway.
He met up with Shine a moment later in the middle. She held up the headset she'd captured with a grin, as if to show him how easily she'd done it. Why she felt any need to show off to him escaped his understanding. She was, after all, the cop. As she'd so handily reminded him after they'd shared blood, she was many years his senior.
Well, maybe not many. Immortal or not, he had the feeling she wouldn't like to be told how much older she was than him. Less than fifteen, certainly.
He grinned back and nodded. “Ready?” he murmured.
She simply looked back at him and stepped off the cliff. He swore, stifling the urge to lunge after her, and simply followed suit.
* * * *
"Two guards,” Pollard mouthed.
Rachel glanced over at Scorpius, who gave his Marine the thumbs-up.
Pollard gave a quick nod and faded into the background with an alacrity that set her mind to humming. He was not someone she wanted lurking around her town, she decided. When things got back to normal, that was. Right now she couldn't think of too many people she'd rather have on hand than one with his particular talent.
He reappeared a few seconds later, giving them the thumbs-up. Rachel and Scorpius slid forward and joined him, careful to tread softly as they approached the cave entrance. Behind them came Warren, not quite so much on little cat feet. In fact, he sounded in Rachel's hyper-sensitive ears like a herd of lust-drunk rhinos.
* * * *
Amanda rolled up next to Rivos and Bakshi, drawing placid looks from both of them. She hadn't expected to sneak up on them, so the undertone of mild disdain was completely uncalled for. Rivos made a gesture she quickly translated in her head, holding up two fingers, making a fist, then placing a hand over his mouth. Two guards—need to be silenced.
Amanda smiled, motioned for them to stay where they were, and ghosted forward. She crept around a stand of rocks spilled off the canyon wall. She changed her focus and grabbed a sigil with each hand.
She sent both spinning away, floating toward the two figures standing some fifty feet ahead of her. One writhed into a serpent's shape, and then struck with all the speed of an amped cobra. The guard gave a low cry and collapsed. His companion spun just as the second spell stabbed downward, twin lances of cerulean light piercing him through both eyes at once His head flew back and his mouth opened as if to scream, but a third beam shot down his throat.
He choked and toppled to land across his comrade.
She sneaked back to the two Marines feeling quite pleased with herself. “Both are out of the game for a while. You guys ready?"
She pretended not to notice the surprised glance they gave one another and smothered a self-satisfied smile. She'd given them all the heads-up about being a mage, but she had the impression they hadn't believed it. It's one thing to have special powers because you're a Metahuman, but it's apparently a long stretch to believe in magic from there.
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