As the sun set for the evening, Lady Sangre stirred. She drank some blood wine which had been freshly squeezed the night before by her minions that had successfully battled several French council warriors. They were even so kind as to bring her the head of the patrol leader as a bedtime snack. The warrior's blood washed down the blood of the council leader that Le Doux had brought to her as a sign of respect. She sipped the council leader's blood as she detailed her recent activities in her tome.
A cool breeze from her open window caused her lamp to flicker. She placed her quill in her ink jar and she stood. She closed the expensive windows and returned to her chair. She picked up her quill and it felt surprisingly warm. She ignored it. She shook the excess ink into the jar and prepared to continue writing until the she read 'LA FIN' in large block letters under her lastest entry. It meant 'The End.'
Her eyes lifted from her page. Cristof Blutherz stood with his arms folded across his muscular chest. His cold eyes did not stray from his target. Her eyes filled with fright. She had battled and defeated many council warriors over the years since she had become one of the undead. Her fellow members of the Order of Twelve had also battled many council warriors and had trophies from their victories. However, no one had ever bested the vampire hunter.
She hissed and leapt. He punched her back into her chair. Her lip split from the force of his punch. Undead blood streaked her face and dripped off of her chin. She covered the wound on her face with her hand. Before she could think, he had grabbed her by the same hand and he threw her onto her lavish castle floor. She rose to her knees, but he did not release her. He stared into her dark eyes and he twisted her arm. Her bones exploded through her skin. She wailed as she looked up at her attacker. His ice cold eyes stared back at her.
"JUST KILL ME," she demanded.
He removed a vial of holy water that hung from his belt. He pulled the small cork out the bottle with his teeth and spat it in her face. The tiny droplets of water contained within the cork pricked her skin like a thousand needles. She screamed again. She threw her head back in pain as her eyes closed. She opened her eyes and saw a single drop of holy water falling towards her right eye. It sizzled as it struck her brown orb. She wailed. The holy water burned into her eye. The soft tissue dissolved. Her once beautiful brown eye resembled a yokeless hardboiled egg. She fell at his feet and sobbed.
"Have mercy," she begged.
He lifted her by the hair. "I will show you as much mercy as your minions showed my warriors."
"H…H…H…"
"How did I know?" he sneered as he looked directly into her remaining eye. "Your new pet likes to let everyone know that he was there. So who is he?"
"I…I…I…"
He yanked her head backwards and held the open vial of holy water above her face. Small droplets fell and burned her skin. "I have enough to last until morning. Who did you turn?" he demanded.
The pain was unbearable. Lady Sangre knew that she was going to die like her fellow members of the Order of Twelve. As the holy water burned her skin, she focused her eye on her tormentor. "Damien Le Doux," she said.
"Who is Damien Le Doux?" he demanded.
"Go to hell holy man," she spat.
His vampire visage formed. "Already there," he said before he ripped out her throat.
She screamed as her flesh was ripped from her neck. Her blood filled his mouth. He held onto her until she was drained. Her lifeless body shriveled as it slipped from his grasp. He tilted his head back and poured the holy water into his mouth. His body trembled as the blessed liquid joined the vampire blood in his veins. He opened another vial and poured it on his face. The holy water evaporated the vampire blood from his flesh. It wisped away in an unholy cloud. He tossed the empty vials onto the floor. He picked up her tome and placed it under his arm. He opened the window and disappeared through the same window from which he had entered.
His next mission, Damien Le Doux, waited.
CHAPTER 20
MODERN DAY: HALIFAX, NOVA SCOTIA, CANADA
The thunderstorms continued to ravage the Eastern Canadian seaboard. The private jet that Larry had chartered in Denver struggled through the storm. Lightning flashed and plane shook. The turbulence bounced the plane like it was popcorn popping in a microwave oven. Larry continued his research despite the rocking plane. David had turned completely white as he gripped the armrests of his seat. Chris, who had turned his MP3 player to its maximum volume, continued to read his comics. He had only five or six books left to read. David would have been amazed by his ability to read so quickly if he wasn't in fear for his life.
David closed his eyes and began to focus on the contents of his stomach. He wished his building nausea away. Stacy had been constantly checking on him during the entire flight. He wanted to ask her out on a dinner date when they reached their hotel, but he was too ill to ask her. Also, he feared approaching her only to have to dash into the forward lavatory. He would be completely embarrassed and he wouldn't be able to look at her again. Instead, he was content to live with his own misery.
A cool cloth touched his pale forehead. He opened his eyes and Stacy's beautiful face smiled at him. "Hanging in there?" she asked sweetly.
"As long as we are flying," he replied as the bile in his stomach rolled with every bounce of the plane.
She giggled. "We are still airborne."
"Shouldn't you be buckled in too?" David asked.
"I'm used to this…"
The plane bounced violently and Stacy lost her balance. She fell into his lap. David, despite his shock, kept the contents of his stomach inside his body. The plane bounced several more times. The shapely woman fell forward and his face was pressed into her chest. Larry, who held onto his notes, tried not to laugh. David went from feeling ill to being completely aroused as the plane rubbed her all over his body. He blushed. She purred.
"You seem to have the color back in your face," Larry joked, "But I expect that most of your blood is elsewhere."
David turned a deeper shade of red. "Sorry," he mumbled.
"Mmmmm, I don't mind," she purred as she kissed him on the cheek.
She stood and straightened her hair. She held onto the side of his seat. David tried to hide his arousal, but she slapped his hands. Larry chuckled again. He was disappointed that Chris was completely unaware of everything that was happening.
She cleared her throat. "Even though that I am used to this kind of turbulence, I am supposed to be in my seat. However, the pilots have asked me to tell you that we are unable to land at this time. There is a problem with the lights at the airport. We will have to circle for another hour," she said to Larry.
"Another hour?" David, whose voice cracked, asked.
Larry suppressed a giggle due to the severity of their situation. "This plane cannot take much more of this storm," he said.
The plane shifted again and Stacy held onto the seat. David swallowed the contents of his stomach again. She waited for the plane to stop shifting before she spoke.
"Be assured, sir, that this plane is quite safe," she assured.
Larry nodded. "However, it is imperative that we get on the ground as quickly as possible."
"We are doing everything that we can sir…"
"Can I speak with the pilot?" Larry asked.
David glared at him. "I don't think that you can go up there."
"It is against protocol, sir."
"Please I need to make a radio call. I think I know where we can land," Larry said as he smiled softly.
The plane shook again and David groaned. He unbuckled his seatbelt and attempted to stand. The plane bounced again and David fell back into his seat. He covered his mouth and stood again. He dashed to the forward lavatory. The plane tilted and he fell away from the door. The plane banked in the other direction and he fell into the lavatory door. He fumbled with the door and he finally got it open. The plane shifted again and he fell into the lavatory. As he fell into the restroom, the co-pilot staggered out of the c
ockpit.
"Jesus Christ," the co-pilot complained. "This is some of the worst turbulence that I've ever seen."
"Ah," Larry said cheerfully, "Just the man that I need to speak with."
The co-pilot held onto anything that he could find as he made his way towards Larry. Stacy had made the wise decision of sitting in David's recently vacated seat. The tall, African-American male pilot struggled to maintain his footing. After half a minute, he knelt next to Stacy as he had finally reached their seats. He was about to speak when all three of them heard Chris merrily beginning to sing. All three sets of eyes fell on the merry traveler.
"Is he always like this?" the co-pilot asked.
"No," Larry replied, "If you take the headphones off of him, you'd crash the plane just to shut him up."
Stacy giggled as the co-pilot cringed. "Are you serious?"
"Yes," Larry replied, "He is afraid to fly."
The co-pilot looked at Chris again and shook his head. "I'd never believe it."
"Trust me, I've seen it for years and I am still not used to it. However," Larry said as he raised his voice over another crash of thunder, "I doubt that you came back here to discuss my friend."
The co-pilot managed to smile despite the horrid weather conditions. "I need you to come to the cockpit with me."
Stacy's eyes widened. "Are you kidding me? We were just discussing that!"
"No, I am not kidding. Apparently, there are two CF-18 fighter jets from CFB Greenwood in route. They want to speak with Dr. Efron who I have been told is you," the co-pilot said as he stood.
Larry unbuckled his seatbelt and stood. The plane swayed, but both men retained their balance. They both quickly dashed to the cockpit before the plane could toss them from side to side. Seconds later, the co-pilot was opening the cockpit door.
The cockpit was a brilliant display of technology while offering a spectacular view of the power of Mother Nature. The pilot, who had helped David and Larry with Chris' comic book collection, was sweating as his fingers tensed on the flight yoke. His knuckles were white. Sweat dripped from his nose and it had soaked his previously flawless uniform.
"Jesus Bill," the co-pilot said, "We've flown through worse than this before."
"Deion, I don't care about the weather. It's the two CF-18 jets that just appeared on our wings," the pilot said nervously.
"Maybe I can help. Can I use the radio?" Larry asked.
Deion handed his co-pilot headset to Larry. "Just put these on and we will get you in contact…"
"All he has to do is listen," Bill said nervously.
Larry placed the headphones over his ears and his head was immediately filled with the chatter from the two fighter pilots.
"To repeat, we are under orders to speak to Dr. Larry Efron only. If you do not comply, we will be forced to…" the fighter pilot stated.
"This is Dr. Efron," Larry said quickly.
"Dr. Efron," the pilot said, "I am Captain Mahoney. Can the pilot still hear me?"
"Yes," Bill said.
"Very good, sir. I apologize for any uneasiness that we may have caused but we are under direct orders from our commanding officer, Colonel Lees. We have been told that he is a personal friend of yours, Dr. Efron," Captain Mahoney stated.
"Yes, Ty and I go way back," Larry said.
"Very good, sir," Captain Mahoney said. "We are under direct orders to escort your plane to CFB Greenwood. From there, your belongings will be loaded onto a helicopter to be flown to Halifax. Pilot, please adjust your course to…"
"Greenwood doesn't permit…"
"Colonel Lees has already cleared your plane. Please adjust your course. We will escort you in."
The radio went silent. The CF-18 fighter jets closed in. Bill breathed heavily. He glanced at Deion.
"What do you think?" he asked his co-pilot.
"Do what they say," Deion said as he turned to Larry. "Do you know what this is all about?"
"No."
He lied.
* * *
The rain continued to fall as the plane touched down at CFB Greenwood. The Canadian Forces Base was built in Greenwood, Nova Scotia because the region was relatively fog free. It was used as a training airfield for the British Commonwealth countries during World War II. During the Cold War, Canada joined NATO and the airfield was used for maritime reconnaissance training units for antisubmarine warfare. Unknown to the general population, the majority of the Canadian military and even the Canadian Parliament, the base also served as the Eastern Canadian Headquarters of the Council of the Light.
The plane taxied into a hanger. Before the door had opened and the stairs had lowered, the plane was surrounded by six armed airmen. The pilots quickly exited the plane with their hands raised in the air. They were about to be handcuffed when a tall, barrel-chested colonel marched into the hanger.
"Stand down," Colonel Lees ordered.
All six airmen stood at attention. The pilots kept their hands in the air. Larry descended the stairs.
"Dismissed," Colonel Lees stated.
The six men saluted. Their colonel returned their salute. The men exited the hanger. Thunder rumbled and the rain became heavier. Larry turned to the colonel and smiled.
"Can you tell these poor men to put their hands down?" Larry asked.
The colonel chuckled. "Gentlemen, I apologize for the actions of my men. I have made arrangements for your comfort while your plane is being refueled. We will take care of these men from here. Once your plane is fueled, you will be free to return to the United States."
"Thank you," Bill said.
"Yeah, what he said," Deion added.
Both men were led away by a captain who had entered the hanger only moments after Colonel Lees. Larry turned to the taller man who had seen many stressful days. His black hair was naturally highlighted with several strands of grey. His face also showed the stresses of his life as a few extra pounds were hinted in his rounded cheeks. His blue eyes were surrounded by dark lines. For a colonel in the Canadian military, his life wasn't easy. However, also being a commander in the secret world of the Council of the Light had pushed him to his physical and mental limits.
"How's Margaret?" Larry asked as the two men strolled away from the plane.
"Happily sleeping with a younger man," Tyson Lees replied.
"I'm sorry, Ty," Larry said softly.
"Fuck! Don't be!" he exclaimed with a laugh. "I think Buckcherry wrote that 'Crazy Bitch' song just for her."
"Buck who?" Larry asked.
Ty chuckled. "Never mind. I forgot that you are still stuck in the middle ages."
Larry laughed. "No, that's our friend."
"Speaking of our friend, where is he?" Ty inquired.
Chris emerged from the plane. He had removed his MP3 player and he had placed it in his pocket. He descended the stairs quickly. He was thankful to be back on the ground. As the storm rattled the windows and the hanger doors, Chris didn't care whether or not the land was wet or dry. He was on the ground. He had survived the trip. He was mentally and physically prepared for what would come next. He approached Larry and the colonel.
"Greetings Colonel," he said as cheerfully as possible, "I wish…"
Colonel Lees held up his hand. "No need. We've used the same greeting for our last three meetings. I don't think that we will ever meet under better circumstances."
Chris nodded. "True. Thanks for getting us on the ground."
Ty motioned with his hand. "You won't be thanking me for much longer," he said. "Gentlemen, please follow me. Time is of the essence."
"We are missing one. Have you seen David?" Chris asked.
Larry looked around. "The last time that I saw him, he was dashing to the bathroom."
Chris cocked an eyebrow. "Interesting," he said.
Larry mirrored his cocked eyebrow. "Why?"
"I heard the flight attendant giggling in the forward lavatory," Chris replied.
As if on cue, Stacy, the flight attendant, began to des
cend the stairs. She fixed her hair as he walked down each step. She smiled at the three men.
"Which way did the pilots go?" she asked.
Ty pointed to the door where the pilots had exited the hanger. "They went that way, ma'am."
"Thank you," she said sweetly.
All three men watched the attractive lady walk to the door. A minute later, she was talking to the guard at the door and he gave her further directions. She was buzzed through the door and she disappeared from sight. Chris lifted his right hand. He had his hand open and all five fingers were spread apart. Slowly, he lowered each finger. Larry gave him a puzzled look. When his final finger had formed a fist, David staggered to the door. Ty and Larry couldn't contain their laughter.
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