The Warrior

by RT Lucas

  His smile was forced as he leaned lazily against the throne.

  “Then you shall have it!” she leaned close to him, offering her cheek. “Kissy kissy for your Queenie-weenie.” Her girlish giggle was chilling coming from the dead girl’s lips.

  As Mabel leaned forward with her pathetic little voice, her cheek being pushed upwards, Tony leaned over her and grabbed the sword from clutches. “Fuck off, I’ve got what I want, dragging her to her feet, he held the deadly weapon at her throat. “You will tell me where you go this, you mental little cunt.”

  “Stop that, it tickles!” Mabel narrowed her eyes, fixing them on Tony. “I got it where it was found of course!” She leaned back as though doing a limbo dance and walked backwards away from his reach. “But there is something more valuable to you than the Scotsman’s whereabouts – oh yes there is! Indeed there is!” Her cackle made her body shake as she tried in vain to straighten herself up.

  Swinging the sword in circular motions above his head, Tony watch Mabel in utter amusement as she tried and failed to get her body upright. “What can be more valuable than Subject Ultimo? You delusional little cunt.”

  Scurrying crab like away from his advance, Mabel looked at him upside down. “I can see right up your nose!” She cackled, then she remembered what they were talking about. “Mabel has heard whispers, and rumours, hints and suggestions – something wicked this way comes! It Lives! It is walking amongst the humans – it’s here!” A sickening crack of bones as Mabel broke the back of her host and then stood up, now flopped over like a ragdoll, staring at her feet. “Mabel knows, you know! And Mabel knows you know she knows but does Mabel want you to know what she knows? Who knows?”

  “Get to fucking sleep you mad bitch.” Tony had had his fill of the crazy one today, her actions were shrivelling his cock, and the meat suit she was wearing was causing bile to rise in his throat. “When I call, you will appear. Later my precious.”

  Tony headed to the door, the wards Mabel had around her castle meant he needed to be outside to flash back to the Institute.

  Just before Tony was out of earshot, Mabel whispered the word he would be dying to hear. “Carberletti,” knowing that it would be carried on the wind to his ears before he could have chance to return and confront her.

  “Carberletti…”

  CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE

  Xavier left Alicia and Frazzle to their own devices as he headed back to work. He had a meeting with his men and would be a couple of hours. Not wanting to go back to her room that was in actual fact only a storage place for her clothes, Alicia bypassed it completely and decided to go for a wander, her ears perking up when she tasted salt in the air and heard the quiet heart breaking sobs that were coming from Teodora’s office.

  Popping her head around the door Alicia’s heart sank when she saw the distraught doctor curled up in a ball. Xavier had respect for both Shuggie and Teo and, although Hugh was her best friend, the Doc had grown on Ali. She was learning from Xavier not to go in for the kill if someone harmed someone to close to her. Deciding that Teodora needed someone to comfort her, remembering Xavier’s words that they were both not blame entirely for their fall out, Alicia kicked the office door open with her pink booted foot, made her way over where Teo was lying, the small female crouched down on her knees and gathered Teo into her arms as if she was merely carrying a feather.

  “Hey Dory, let’s get you back to your room.” Teo could hardly breathe for crying as Alicia carried her the short distance to her quarters. Once inside, she dropped her onto the bed and looked around as Teodora curled back up into a ball.

  Alicia removed her leather jacket, letting it fall to the floor and got up on the bed with Teodora. The small female’s back was against the headboard, her short legs outstretched as she gently took Teo’s head into her lap and started patting her head, her voice was soft and calming. “My books say that when mortals are in emotional pain that you comfort them, lucky for you Dory I’m also a qualified grief counsellor.”

  Teodora had lifted her head and through the tears tried to give Alicia a perplexed look. She wasn’t aware of this new development, her head was shoved back down as the little vampire carried on with her spiel of helping Teodora, all the while patting her head like she was some animal.

  “What you are feeling now is denial and I don’t want you becoming isolated from the world, you are mortal after all and you’ll end up dying from a broken heart with all the crying. You and Hugh both fucked up and royally, but never fear little one, with the help of your counsellor here, you will start to feel better soon.”

  Teodora’s tears became harder as Alicia’s words hits home to her, she was a mortal hopelessly in love with an immortal she would die and he would live on in this world… without her. Slowly Teodora forced her body to sit up, pushing herself upwards so her back, the same as the apparent ‘Doctor’ Carberletti’s was against the headboard, Teodora drew her knees up, resting her chin on top of them as her arms hugged them tightly.

  The next movement had her even more aghast. Alicia sprang from her seated position, tilted Teodora’s head up with her finger, tickled under her chin, tapped her nose three times then sauntered off saying she was off to get supplies for the salty-eyed mortal. Of course Alicia was a gifted vampire and before Teodora had time to move, the small brunette was back, and her arms were full of tissues, chocolate and ice cream that were just as quickly dropped on the bed beside Teodora, Alicia now deciding to sit on the chair to the side of the room.

  “My books state that when mortals are depressed, which by the way, is a stage of grief which by assessing you, you will suffer from. You eat high calorie food with sugar content enough to rot your teeth and there is a bowl of warm milk on the floor for you.”

  Teodora was too scared to look down at the floor. Alicia’s patting of her head and the forms of affection she was showing…Alicia could only interact with animals on this level, she had no comprehension on how to comfort a human. The Doctor heard the soft suck and knew Ali was in her ‘zone’ the cherry lolly was never far from her lips.

  “Anger is a stage of grief but never fear, Xav and Shuggie have already kicked the utter crap out of each other – well Shuggie tried and I had to bandage Xav up. You can X-ray his hand later as it’s broken. I think I’ll do another online course to become a nurse, I actually had fun.”

  “My Warrior was hurt?”

  “Nah, just his dead heart. Xav took the brunt of it.”

  “His wolf, oh gosh his wolf!”

  “Wolfie is fine and sandy, thanks for asking.”

  “Dandy, not sandy… Oh gosh what if the wolf bit Shuggah?”

  “Crazy is not a stage of grief – why the fuck would wolfie bite Hugh?”

  “He was angry at Shuggah and I, yes.”

  “No.”

  “No what?”

  “You said yes, so I’m correcting you. No Xavier is not angry with either of you, as he says there are seven sides to every story, and once I knew what had happened I spared you your life.”

  The colour had drained from Teodora’s face as she sat staring at Alicia. She said everything how it was, edited nothing regardless who she was addressing.

  “You and Hugh need to sort this shit out. I despise liars, not that I’m calling you and Hugh liars of course, but that male fucking worships the ground you run on and by the look of the state you are in you do too. Kiss and tie each other up. Mortality is limited Dory, don’t waste it on silly arguments – we can’t change our pasts but we can control our own destiny.”

  And then she was gone… Teo once more was alone in the bed she and Shuggie shared, his scent intoxicating her as she slid down the headboard and cried. The names he called her, the look of hate in his red eyes – she had just lost her entire world. Exhaustion from crying finally won as her fragile body gave in to sleep.

  CHAPTER THIRTY SIX

  The limo was waiting for Martinez at the private airstrip when the plane landed in Russia. He had left message
s for Baranovsky to let him know that he would be coming in person to meet with him, hoping that this show of faith would be enough to ease any thoughts he might have had about any potential ‘double-crossing’.

  When he stood at the foot of the stairs, he was frisked by two men then escorted to the Limo. This made Martinez uneasy – he wasn’t expecting to be met by the Mobster’s guards. He had Roberto arrange his own personal guards and transport. Surprises were not a good indication of how this trip was going to go. Flanked by the two men, he was helpfully ‘shoved’ into the limo, and he realised that his cell and luggage had been taken from him. One of the men said something in Russian and the limo engine started.

  “You will comply with our employer’s instructions.”

  Martinez had to crank his neck to look up at the man who spoke. It wasn’t a request, or even a question.

  The windows of the limo were as black as the bodywork, so even if he could peer around the men, he wouldn’t have been able to see where they were taking him anyway. Wherever it was, they were heading there with no time to spare, the limo speeding down the motorway and the driver seemingly oblivious to the honking of horns and squeals of tyres from other motorists.

  Martinez eyes went wide and his heart was thumping fast, blood thundering in his ears, as his panic started to rise. “Focus, fucksake focus – I’ve gotta get out of here.” Martinez didn’t realise that he was muttering out loud as he sat in the back, crowded by the two Man Mountains who were dressed head to toe in black. One of the men was heavily scarred and looked as though half his face had been melted in a fire – the other was a sneering bastard who kept looking at him like an alcoholic who had just spied the last bottle of vodka on the shelf.

  Martinez lips went dry as he ran through a multitude of scenarios in his head – Baranovsky ordering his execution, Roberto having set him up. As he was playing out the mini-dramas in his head there was a sudden screech of tyres, and he was pushed back into the leather of the seat. Turning his head to see what was happening, the sneering bastard was shouting something to the driver.

  Another change in direction, and the two men pulled out their guns, lowering the windows and leaning out either side. A volley of shots was fired, and Martinez lunged forward, covering his ears as he cowered on the floor of the limo. As though in slow-motion, Martinez was thrown forward as something banged into the back of the limo. The Russian’s shouting increased in between reloading of their weapons and the noise was deafening.

  ‘This is it,’ Martinez whimpered, ‘this is the moment of my death’. The limo lowered down on the left hand side, a teeth clenching screech followed – more shots, more shouting – as the limo was turning, spinning around time seemed to stand still for a fraction of a second before a violent jolt brought them back to reality.

  Reaching up to his head, Martinez brought his fingers down and noticed the blood – it took him a few seconds to realise it wasn’t his – the melted faced guard was sprawled over him, his eyes shocked and lifeless.

  Martinez scrambled from under him, grasping for the door. Shoulder charging it to force it open he spilled out onto the tarmac of the road, half crawling, half running in the direction of the traffic. He could see the smashed up hood of the car that must have been chasing them, and there were two figures running towards him.

  “Get down!”

  As the two strangers approached, Martinez complied with their order as a bullet whizzed past his right ear. Martinez was pulled backwards, his chin scraped against the asphalt as something hard hit off the back of his skull.

  Valantin Baranovsky looked over at Yury. “How long has it been?”

  “Nearly three hours, Boss.”

  “Wake him.”

  Yury slapped Martinez face so hard he felt the sting on his own palm. Martinez stirred slowly, dazed – which earned him another slap. “Wait...what?” He tried to open his eyes, but his left one was too swollen, and as he went to lift his arms to protect himself, he realised he was tied to the chair he was sitting on. His body was aching and his mind was confused.

  “Leave us,” Baranovsky ordered his men. Since the incident with Mabel, he had increased his security detail three-fold, and as the other guards silently left, Yury and Pavel stayed back, their detail had been changed to be his bodyguards twenty-four seven.

  Baranovsky nodded to Yury, who walked over to Martinez, putting the barrel of his gun to the battered man’s head.

  “I see that you were met at the airport by Andropov’s men,” Baranovsky smirked.

  Martinez shook his head. “Who? “And gulped down saliva mixed with his own blood as he tried to work his wrists free from the rope.

  “My Competitor – you see, this is what happens when you send unsolicited communications. Andropov intercepted the email, and had anticipated your visit. Luckily for you, I have my own spies who were able to – how do you say… ‘Save your bacon’?” he gave a harsh, unamused laugh.

  It was all becoming clear to Martinez – he had been right to be frightened in that limo – God knows what would have happened if Baranovsky’s men hadn’t saved him. “Th...Thank you,” he stuttered, “B..but why am I restrained?” His voice was trembling.

  Baranovsky shrugged, his facial expression bored. “You have not earned my trust, so …” and gave a second shrug as he opened his hands out.

  “Baranovsky, I came here to appease you and let you know that I meant no disrespect. An overzealous employee wanting to prove himself sent the email. He has been punished and I can assure you that the indiscretion will never happen again.” Although Martinez hadn’t punished Roberto, he would, and he would make an example of him so that this situation would never arise again in the future.

  “You are right about one thing, Martinez – it most definitely won’t be happening again.” Baranovsky narrowed his eyes and lips, his face taut and serious.

  “How…How can I prove my loyalty, Baranovsky?”

  This was not what he was expecting to hear from a self-proclaimed Don. His former boss Snr Belcastro would have never under any circumstances begged as Martinez was doing. Arching a brow, the corners of his lips curled into a smirk. “You tell me, Martinez, how can you?” This Italian had only one thing going for him which was keeping him alive – the drug ‘Euphoria’. He doubted very much if he had anything of any interest to say outside of their drug deal.

  “The drugs. I can get you more drugs, we can discuss the price…” Martinez was grasping at straws – he needed to impress the Russian and was running out of options. Fast.

  “Yes, the drugs have proved a worthy investment, but I also know that you are merely the ‘middle-man’ and once you are out of the picture, I could liaise with the Manufacturer in person.”

  Shit, he hadn’t thought of that. And he did not like the way Baranovsky said ‘once he was out of the picture’. His brain was starting to freeze, and if he was going to save his life he needed to come up with something goddamn special. Martinez blurted out, “I know where Petra is!”

  Baranovsky stilled, his heart stopping in his chest. When he spoke, it was so quiet that Martinez had to strain to hear him. “Say that again,” before screaming, “say that again!” Could it be true? Did Martinez have information on the whereabouts of his beloved Petra? Yury and Pavel glanced over at one another, before Yury pulled unclicked the safety from his gun and pressed the barrel harder against Martinez’ forehead.

  This was his one chance to save his skin and he couldn’t screw this up. As the gun was pushed against his skull, he looked up at Baranovsky with his good eye. “I...I know where Petra is. Just….Just untie me and we can speak.” He could tell by Baranovsky’s change in body language that he was back in the game.

  Wordlessly, Baranovsky nodded to Yury, who automatically lowered his weapon, as Pavel crossed the room and cut the ropes that held Martinez to the chair. “You have been untied – now…speak!”

  Groaning, Martinez rubbed his wrists as the blood started to circulate again. “She
is in the morgue back in Mexico.”

  Baronovsky felt his knees buckle, even although he was seated. His hands clasped together and he was holding them so tight, he was on the verge of breaking his own bones. His voice was strangled. “Dead? My daughter is…Dead?”

  Martinez licked his cut lips. “I did not want to be the bearer of such bad news, but our investigations into her disappearance led us to her body,” he lied.

  “How?” the despair was evident in Baranovsky’s voice as he stared open mouthed at Martinez. “Who?”

  Martinez had Baranovsky right where he wanted him! If he played this right, he could kill two birds with one stone.

  “The Greek,” Martinez hoarse voice answered.

  Baranovsky’s eyebrows raised, then lowered as he stared at the Italian. He couldn’t speak, he couldn’t move.

  “It seems that The Greek had somehow found out about our arrangement for the trafficking of the girls, and wanted in on the action. He wanted to drive a wedge between you and Belcastro, and he had his Lieutenant come here to Russia and kidnap your daughter. He had her taken to him in Mexico whilst he was plotting to assassinate the old man – my sources say he was intending on setting you up as being behind the hit.” One of Martinez’ strong points was his ability to lie, and do it convincingly. It was as natural to him as breathing. “He let his men have their use of your daughter, but when it was apparent their plan wasn’t succeeding, they had her brutalised and killed. Then they dumped her body in the desert.” Martinez was putting on his ‘sorrowful’ voice to add credence to his deception.

  Baranovsky’s fury was palpable as he stood up and threw his head back roaring Petra’s name. “He will pay for this. The Greek will die!”

  Yury raced over to pick Baranovsky up as his knees gave way and he slumped to the floor, looking over to Pavel as he nodded and grabbed Martinez by the arm. “You will return home now. The Boss will be in contact.”