Renegade (Ministry of Paranormal Research & Defence)

by Chapman, Andrew

  “Now why on Earth did you keep our guests waiting outside, Samuel?”

  “Sorry, sir,” said the guard sergeant. “I was waiting for permission.”

  “Well, dear boy, now you have permission, bring them inside,” replied the vamp.

  I barely managed to avoid cracking a smile. It seemed that vamps were like most bosses: happy to shit on the underlings at every opportunity. You kiss upwards and shit downwards. The feeling of amusement quickly faded. I was about to meet the vampire who had ordered the Marie's kidnapping. I needed to control the rage boiling in my gut long enough to find her. It wouldn't help her if I marched into the place and started indiscriminately shooting people and blowing shit up. I needed to find her first. Then I could start indiscriminately shooting people and blowing shit up.

  Anna was simply magnificent. She exploded out of the limo like a landmine going off, strode into the mansion like she owned the place and bore down on DeClerc like an armored cavalry charge. He was a short, pudgy man with an oily complexion and poor taste in clothes. Nevertheless, Anna complimented him on his beautiful mansion with its magnificent grounds and stupendous setting, praised him for his simply splendid security, absolutely insisted that the guard sergeant was to be commended for his devotion for duty and utmost caution, and then, just as her speech threatened to bury the poor vampire in honeyed platitudes, her voice snapped out like a whip crack.

  “How dare you, sir?”

  Everyone else jumped about a foot off of the ground. My team snapped their weapons up, covering the angles. Only I had the true target, though. The vamp in the white suit had been studying us and, according to the subtle flickers of power in his eyes, had sought to test Anna.

  “This one,” she declared in a voice of steel, pointing a finger like Kitchener's, “was attempting to probe the minds of my men.”

  My men, she had said, implying more than she said. DeClerc's lips twitched into a brief, lecherous smile before his face registered the shock of what had happened.

  “I assure you, dear lady, that he was only concerned for my well-being.”

  “That does not give him an excuse to violate those bonded to me,” she said in a cold whisper.

  Anna was a baby by vampire standards, but I do know that she practiced her abilities on a daily basis. She had trained almost every Ministry hunter in resisting vampiric mind control. What she lacked in years she made up for in experience. She may not have been a match for the vampire in terms of power but she had him beaten hands-down in skill. There was a brief, electric exchange between the two and the vamp staggered back a step before crumpling to the ground. He curled up into a ball, making whimpering noises. DeClerc stood up, his face ashen and his expression stunned.

  Anna drew in a long breath through her nose and a sunny smile returned to her face.

  “I do not hold you responsible for his actions,” she said to DeClerc.

  “The lady is generous,” he said with an attempt at a courtly bow. “His life is, of course, yours.”

  “I will not sully my hands with such as he,” she declared, dismissing the vamp with a wave of her hand. “But if he crosses me again I will give him to my wolf to eat.”

  I was pleased that Cam chose to maintain his stoic demeanor, rather than treating the moment as an excuse for a Hollywood-style—oh, the cliché, it burns—wolfish grin.

  The tension in the room was palpable and I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. From the second we'd pulled up outside this house I had been acutely aware that we were stepping into a world of shit. We were surrounded by enemies who could read most of my team like they were a Sunday tabloid.

  “Well,” said Anna looking around the room. “If the boys have finished being terribly impressive and fierce, perhaps I can be shown to your guest quarters.”

  We cautiously lowered our weapons once it became clear that the house guards weren't going to try anything.

  “By all means, dear lady,” said DeClerc, slowly regaining his composure. Clearly the vampire currently laying on the floor and struggling to breathe had been something of a big man in the household. “And considering that dear Gilbert—” he pronounced it Jill-bear, “—is indisposed I shall show you myself.”

  He stepped around the stricken Gilbert and rather awkwardly offered Anna his arm, which she pointedly ignored.

  “Lead the way, good sir,” she said.

  DeClerc managed to avoid looking offended at the snub and led us through a pair of ornate carved wooden doors into a corridor. Any windows that might have made the place light and airy were presumably behind the heavy wine-colored curtains that ran along one side. The corridor was lit by what appeared to be old gaslights, but as we passed the first I could see the flickering light inside wasn't gas in a glass chimney but rather an electric filament in a bulb. Full marks for ambiance but nothing for authenticity. Not that I cared, I wasn't here to critique his interior design. I was studying the place, picking up clues. DeClerc wanted his mansion to look like it was out of Victorian England, but he wasn't above achieving the effect with modern technology. That meant we probably wouldn't be looking at portraits with the eyes cut out as a means of spying on us. I would have swept for electronic surveillance anyway but it was nice to get confirmation.

  The corridor ended at a series of doors. According to the monologue kept up by our host, we were entering the guest wing, which was actually the oldest part of the entire mansion, the rest having been badly damaged in a fire back in nineteen-I-really-didn't-care-enough-to-listen. There was a proud boast that some President and First Lady had once slept here when campaigning. I was only keeping half an ear on the vampire's litany of what were probably lies. I solidly approved of the way the corridor was set up, from a security perspective. The corridor was wide enough for four people to walk down but it was long and straight. Nobody would be sneaking up on anyone standing guard outside the rooms.

  DeClerc stopped in front of one of the doors and nodded politely.

  “All of the rooms in this wing are for available for your use for as long as you need them. If you should need anything simply ring the bell and one of the servants will attend to your needs.”

  'Chief' Bolt indicated the door we were stood nearest with his head and I went through, closely followed by Cam.

  Anna remained outside chatting amiably with the vamp whilst we gave the room a visual inspection. It was large, airy, comfortable, and furnished with pieces that were either original antiques or clever reproductions. I couldn't tell and I didn't care. We spread out and moved from room to room. The windows were covered by heavy curtains and, even if one threw the curtains back, were nicely tinted with, presumably, a UV-reducing coating. I'd already spotted a few high corners and dark vents, perfect hiding places for hidden cameras. No matter. Loki had the equipment I'd asked him to pick up.

  Whatever conversation had been going on between Anna and DeClerc had obviously ended. I heard the door click shut behind John as our vampire mistress strode across the room.

  I gave Loki a nod. He opened the case he was carrying and took out a pair of specialized frequency scanners. He tossed one to me and we began to sweep the room. We were looking for tell-tale electromagnetic fields that might indicate hidden microphones or cameras. Then we swept each room with a sensitive IR scanner, looking for suspicious heat signatures that might indicate power sources. John and Steph were checking under and around furniture, looking for anything they could physically see. Electronic gadgets and gizmos are useful tools, but they are tools nonetheless. Sometimes you can't beat getting down on your hands and knees and actually looking.

  Anna, in keeping with her adoptive persona, was sitting in one of the wing-back chairs, watching our efficient movements with a clear expression of boredom on her face. That changed when John pulled an object from under a highly polished side-table. It was a small disc of circuit board with several components soldered to its surface. A pair of wires led to a battery pack the size of a disposal ciga
rette lighter.

  It was a bug—a listening device—and it was almost a Hollywood parody of itself. I couldn't help but think that visitors were supposed to find that one.

  Anna took the device and held it up to her face.

  “I appreciate the need for security,” she said into the tiny microphone, “but I do not appreciate being spied upon.”

  With that she calmly snapped the wires and dropped the two halves back onto the side table.

  Over the next thirty minutes we found four more bugs—each more advanced and better concealed than the one John had found—and two cameras scattered around the sitting room. We swept each of the bedrooms over and over before concluding that they were not under observation. Eventually, satisfied that there was no more electronic surveillance, we sat down whilst Anna verified that there was no human—or vampire—surveillance around us.

  She sat in her chair, hands folded primly in her lap, her eyes closed, a tiny frown of concentration furrowing her brow.

  “I have two werewolves outside,” she whispered, “And—”

  “And?” said John.

  She opened her eyes and looked around the room.

  “I can't sense Jack because of what he is. I do sense Loki, John and Bolt.”

  She turned her head to look at Steph.

  “I can't sense you, either.”

  “I'm sorry?” said Steph.

  “Jack, she's like you. She's a—whatever you are.”

  “What's that supposed to mean?” asked Steph tartly.

  “Jack's not human,” said Anna.

  “Whoa, whoa, that's a bit much,” I protested. “'Not human'? I think you're leaping to a conclusion.”

  “Jack, I know what a human feels like and you're not in that category.”

  “Excuse me?” said Steph. “What do you mean by 'not human'?”

  “She's exaggerating,” I said.

  “I am not,” said Anna, indignant.

  “We're just … different,” I went on, ignoring Anna's annoyed look. “Vamps can't sense us, can't control us, and can't suck our blood.”

  “Why not? What … who are we?”

  “I have no idea,” I replied with a shrug. “The Vatican seems to think we are the defenders of humanity with God-given gifts to fight the vampires. I personally feel we just evolved in response to the predation. Who knows?”

  “I always thought there was something weird about me,” she said. “I always just put it down to ordinary weirdness. Turns out I was destined to kill vampires, like I'm the Slayer or something.”

  “Don't let it go to your head,” I cautioned. “In all other respects you're just human.”

  “That sucks,” she said. “No super strength or fast healing or anything?”

  “'Fraid not,” I said

  “Bummer.”

  CHAPTER

  41

  I woke up to the sunlight streaming through the curtains and the smell of breakfast. Bacon, eggs, toast, some sort of fried potatoes. My saliva glands went into overdrive and I had to swallow. After a quick shower I started looking around to see if I could find anything to wear. Kyle's sister hadn't left much in the way of clothes but I had managed to find a pair of jeans that just about fit. I'd also found an open packet of sports bras. I wondered why she'd left them behind but a few seconds rummaging in the drawer gave the answer: she was a big girl. The few bras she'd left behind were 36E. The sports bras would have been too small for her, and were even a little tight on me, but close enough. The need to stop things from bouncing was uppermost in my mind. A black t-shirt with a motorbike on the front that looked unworn and a pair of trainers that looked on the verge of falling apart and I was ready to face the world.

  In the kitchen Kyle and his mother were sitting down to the meal that had been driving my nose crazy. They gave me cheery greetings and a plateful of food and I sat down with them to tuck in.

  It was nice, sitting there with Kyle and his mother, chatting about nothing in particular. I could almost forget that I'd been kidnapped, taken away from my man, and transported to another country, for reasons I still couldn't fathom. I missed him, and I couldn't wait to see him again. He was probably going out of his mind, not even knowing if I was alive or not. But for all of that, it was relaxing to sit and enjoy breakfast in such homely surroundings.

  “Where's dad?” said Kyle once we were finished.

  “He's out in the garage finishing up on that order,” said Pol. “He said you should go see him before you left.”

  As we rose to leave Pol gave me a hug.

  “Hope you get home safe, dear.”

  “Thank you, Pol. For everything.”

  “That's okay, hun,” she said.

  We went out into the garage, where the lower half of Perry was visible, sticking out from under a very pretty-looking car. It was low and squat, a deep, glossy red color, with big, fat tires and patches of glittering chrome.

  “Hey, dad?” said Kyle.

  “Yeah?” came Perry's muffled voice. “Be right out. Just finishing up.”

  He muttered a few times and then rolled out from under the car. He was wearing dark blue oil-stained overalls and his skin was streaked with dark smudges.

  “Like her?” he asked as he stood up.

  “She's beautiful,” I said. “Love the color.”

  “She's a nineteen seventy-one Chevy Camaro zee-twenty-eight. I'm restoring her for a client. She was nothing more than a chassis, a seized-up engine and a body that was mostly scratches, dents and rust when we found her. Half of the glass was even missing.”

  He took a step back, wiping his hands on a piece of grimy cloth.

  “Now look at her,” he said. “We managed to salvage the original panels and the engine block was in good shape.”

  He walked around the car, pointing out all of the parts that were original and those he'd had to replace. This had clearly been a labor of love for him. He carried on talking, lost in his own world until Kyle cleared his throat.

  “Oh, you're wanting to get going,” he said. “You shouldn't have let me babble on like that, Kyle. Our guest wants to get home.”

  “Well, dad, you raised me not to interrupt when my elders were speaking.”

  “I also taught you not to smart off to your elders, boy,” Perry replied with a barely suppressed grin. “You taking the Mustang?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, be careful.” He turned to me and gave a broad smile. “Nice meeting you, Marie. Have a safe trip home.”

  “Thanks, Perry. It was nice meeting you too.”

  “Look after yourself.”

  Kyle led the way around to the side of the garage where another car was parked. This one was a vibrant blue.

  “My baby,” said Kyle with evident pride. “Sixty-seven Ford Mustang gee-tee fastback. It's got a Cobra Jet engine. Vee-eight, four hundred ten horsepower. Me and dad restored her together.”

  I smiled at the flow of information. He kept talking as we got in, pointing out the restoration that had been done on the interior and grinning at the throaty roar of the engine as we pulled away. Kyle's attitude to cars was like Jack with guns. The thought set off a pain in my stomach. I was missing Jack and I was worried about him. How was he coping with all of this? No doubt he was going crazy. He had probably gone on the rampage. Either that or he was having to be restrained at Ministry headquarters. Whatever he was up to, I hoped he was safe.

  “You'll like Terry,” said Kyle, interrupting my reverie. “He's a sweetheart.”

  “Is he human?” I asked.

  “Werewolf. He was bitten nearly four years ago.”

  “Is he a member of a pack?” I asked.

  “Used to be,” he said. “He left. It was a pretty fucked-up situation.”

  Kyle seemed to realize what he'd just said and blushed brick red. He started to stammer an apology.

  “It's okay,” I said. “I live with a soldier. The word 'fuck' has entered my vocabulary.”

  “Mom and dad don'
t tolerate swearing,” he said with a rueful grin. “They say it's the sign of a limited vocabulary. Wait, aren't you a soldier, too?”

  “Well, technically I'm a hunter, which makes me a police constable, but yeah, I'm a soldier, too. What happened with Terry? Did the pack kick him out?”

  “No, not really. Tyler—he's the pack alpha—doesn't have a problem with gays. He says the fact that Terry's a werewolf is more important. But it was almost like some of the pack refused to believe Terry was gay. People kept asking when he was going to pick a mate. There was this pack wedding a couple years back, Terry and I went together. There was this middle-aged woman there who kept asking Terry when he would be taking a girl up the aisle.

  “I was biting my lip to avoid making some sort of inappropriate sex joke but Terry took it personal. He goes all—” His voice raised in pitch as he did an impression, “—'Don't you people get it? I'm gay! I was born gay and I'll die gay! What, you think if you keep on I'll just choose to be straight?'. He went off on that poor woman. I've heard people come out of the closet before but he came out guns blazing.

  “In the end Tyler came over and practically dragged him away and asked him to leave. Terry thought he meant the pack, but he just meant the wedding. Anyway, Terry's yelling and Tyler is trying to get him to calm down and in the end Terry stormed off. The next day when everyone calmed down, Terry was just too stubborn to apologize. And so it went on for three days and then Terry just left.”

  We drove on in silence for a few seconds as Kyle pulled down a slip road onto a highway—I think it was an Interstate Highway from the blue and red signs—and dodged a huge white eighteen-wheeler.

  “I keep trying to get him to go back,” said Kyle as he changed lanes and accelerated. “All he has to do is apologize to Tyler. Nothing big, it doesn't have to be in front of the pack or anything, he just has to meet with him and say sorry.