by S Mays
“Why are you so relieved that vampires are that uncommon? Do their dashingly good looks and charm send your heart fluttering?” he teased.
“They are nothing to be joked about. We have no account of success of any single agent against a mature or elder vampire. Our knowledge is limited on the powerful vampires, but entire bases of operation have been wiped out by an upper echelon vampire, like a vampire lord.
“From our intel, I can only say vampires of that level are incredibly rare and powerful beyond belief. All we have to go on are fragmented notes and sketchy video, from hundreds of years of research. Most of what we run into are minors and familiars. They are servants of the actual vampires and about one-tenth of their strength. These are the ones you are probably familiar with from popular legend.
“Fortunately, the vampire groups have kept their own numbers in check so far, but we are working on better methods for handling them as new information becomes available,” Jessica said.
“I think I prefer the sparkling version,” Sverre muttered.
“There are hundreds of other cataloged entries in our Creature Cryptofile. You should familiarize yourself with each one,” she stated, handing him a tablet. “You’ll have to have clearance to see many of them, but the basics are in there.”
The various entries of what were thought to be legends and myths excited him. The rest of the trip went by quickly as he studied the information. He dozed off for about an hour and a half. Jessica was grateful for the silence.
Later in the day, they approached his parents’ house. The house was a small, average one-story ranch in a dull suburban neighborhood. It would be at least two hours until his mom got home and another hour until his father arrived.
“Let’s go hang out at the mall for a bit,” he suggested.
“The mall? I was supposed to bring you here and bring you back. Not dawdle at shopping centers.”
“C’mon, it’ll be fun. We can check out the stores, grab a bite to eat. They won’t be here for a while yet,” he pleaded.
They spent the next few hours walking in and out of shops and eating junk food. Sverre noticed that Jessica seemed to enjoy herself despite her initial reservations. At one point, he was surprised by her request for him to wait while she tried on some clothes. He figured she probably had government-issued clothes, like jumpsuits or something. His jaw dropped when she emerged from a dressing room in a red dress that accentuated her curves perfectly.
“That dress looks really good on you, Jess,” he remarked.
She twirled in front of a mirror, oblivious to the effect her appearance had on him. “You think so?”
“Sure. Why don’t you buy it and wear it out?” he said, unable to look away.
“I’m not sure.” She hesitated, wondering what the soldiers at the base would think of it. “I think I should put it back. It’s not me.”
“Forget it. I can see you like it. I’ll buy it. It’ll take just a second, then we can head back to my mom’s,” Sverre said, pulling out a credit card. He was only supposed to use it for emergencies, but he could make up some excuse later.
She smiled and said nothing, looking down at her new dress. On missions, she had worn a variety of outfits to blend in with her environment, but she had very little clothing that she had picked out for herself.
When they returned, Sverre noted that both of his parents’ cars were in the driveway. This is going to be a nightmare. He was not looking forward to the discussion he had planned. He probably should have called ahead, but he didn’t want to try to explain over the phone, and it was something that needed to be discussed in person anyway. He asked Jessica to wait in the van while he headed in.
Jessica watched him trudge up the path into the house, wondering what emotions stirred within him. It wasn’t every day someone learned that mankind was under threat by supernatural forces and their biological father was an elite soldier killed in the line of duty. As far as his mother knew, he was simply a government contractor who had been killed in the Middle East while inspecting facilities for the military. Jessica reviewed the notes on his final mission.
Derrick Walker was part of an elite unit deployed in Iraq to eliminate weapons of mass destruction before the possibility of a U.S. invasion. Military intelligence knew Saddam would just as likely nuke or gas his own people to wipe out thousands of U.S. troops. In the weeks leading up to the U.S. expelling Iraqi forces from Kuwait, crack teams were secretly deployed deep inside Iraq to eliminate the nuclear and biological weapons depots in the event that authorization was given to proceed with military force against Iraq directly.
On his last mission to destroy Saddam’s only working nuclear device, Derrick almost single-handedly brought down Iraq’s most secure facility. He sacrificed himself to detonate the device and destroy the underground bunker, along with most of the research contained within. There was only one survivor from his unit, who died shortly after returning, due to radiation exposure. If Sverre had even half the courage of his father, he would be an invaluable asset.
She received an urgent call from her grandfather while she waited for Sverre. The agents sent to clean up and investigate the Rilus site had not reported in. He warned her to be careful while out traveling, as the werewolf might not have been acting alone. He warned her to get a hotel room for the night and remain cautious.
After a few hours, Sverre emerged. He hugged his mom and walked back to the van. His puffy red eyes betrayed his stoic front.
“Did it go well?”
“About as well as expected. It’s just all part of growing up, I guess. It really doesn’t matter who my biological father was. Frank is my real dad, and he’s been good to me, and he and my mom love me. I know why she didn’t tell me, even if I don’t agree with it. I’m fortunate to have parents like them,” he admitted. “My mom hid the truth from me because she knew my dad had died a hero. She didn’t know the specifics of his mission, but she knew enough. The thought of me idolizing him and maybe joining the military terrified her, so she hid everything. It makes a lot of sense now. Growing up, she discouraged me from play-fighting with other kids or watching violent shows, especially anything dealing with the military. Only recently did she start to lay off me a bit. She was just overprotective because she’d lost him and didn’t want to lose me the same way.”
His words dredged up memories that she’d long buried. She slammed them back down, focusing on the situation at hand. “Grandfather wants us to get a room for the night and travel back in the morning.”
Sverre’s left eyebrow rose slightly.
“Separate beds,” she responded in an exasperated tone.
About forty minutes outside of town, they stopped to eat. After dinner, they checked into a hotel across the street from the diner.
They had packed a change of clothes and some overnight items, despite planning on returning to the Farm that night.
Sverre thought about the day that had passed. “Jess?”
“Yes?”
“Thanks for driving me to see my parents.”
“You are quite welcome. Contrary to what you may believe, I do know a bit about what you are going through,” she offered.
Staring into the darkness, he thought about her words. He vowed to remind himself at a later date to ask her what she meant. Now, his weary eyes wanted the peace and oblivion of sleep.
CHAPTER EIGHT
He awoke in a panic, grabbing for his alarm clock that wasn’t there. It took almost a half-minute before he realized where he was. He finally located his phone, which was beeping from the missed call from his mom, logged at 3:45 a.m. Something was wrong if she was calling so late. He played back the message.
Loud noises exploded in his ear, like objects being slammed against one another. He heard his father yelling for someone to get out of the house while his mom screamed hysterically. The violent ruckus continued for a few seconds, followed by eerie silence. “Mom? MOM?” he shouted into the phone.
“What is it?�
�� Jessica asked, flipping the light switch.
“We have to go, NOW. Back to my mom’s house — they’re in trouble!” he cried, pulling on his jeans.
“What did you hear?”
“It sounded like they were being attacked. We have to get the hell over there!” he shouted, almost ripping his shirt as he wrenched it over his head.
“No, we need to call this in and have a team head over. You aren’t combat trained, and I don’t have the proper armaments,” she said, dialing her phone.
He grabbed her wrist, looking her in the eyes. “Jess, I need to go. I can’t wait an hour for backup to arrive. We are close. We can get there in less than twenty minutes if we floor it. Jess, if it was your father, wouldn’t you go?” he said pleadingly.
She returned his gaze, angry at his ploy of using her father’s death as a bargaining chip, but Sverre didn’t know what had happened to her father. She calmed herself. They could at least check it out. She’d call it in, regardless. Finally, she responded, “Okay, but when we get there, you let me handle this. It’s what I do. Hopefully, Command can get a copter on the way and meet us there. If it is an attack by werewolves that somehow followed us or knew about your parents, we are not equipped to handle them.”
“Fine. Hurry, please!”
The van rocketed down the highway at almost triple the speed limit.
“God, I hope we don’t get pulled over,” he said, worried.
“All Order vehicles are equipped with technology designed to confuse detection devices. They absorb radar and laser and send back pulses that will coincide with whatever the current speed limit is. We are also running without lights using the windshield HUD, so they should not be able to see us. I’ve called ahead, and we should arrive slightly before the intercept squad arrives. My grandfather warned that Rilus may not have been acting alone. Maybe they were stalking you at school and know who you are and are trying to get at you through your parents,” Jessica theorized. Sverre became visibly paler at the suggestion.
“Shouldn’t we call the cops? They could get there in five minutes,” Sverre suggested.
“One thing you need to know about us: we are the first and only response to situations like this, Sverre. Do not ever call local authorities or military to assist you. You will only send innocent men and women to their deaths in addition to complicating matters for us. Either succeed on your own or die and wait for someone else to arrive and clean up the mess,” she replied sternly, her grim visage illuminated by the various readouts on the windshield.
“Are there any weapons in this thing?” he asked, rummaging through bags in the back.
“Those are supplies. Slide the fourth bolt in the second rail on the right upward.”
He found the bolt and triggered it. Slowly, a metal cylinder rose from the center of the floor, pushing the various knapsacks and bags to the side. Inside were a compact shotgun, a stun rod, a handgun, some small orbs, and manacles. Several slots were empty, indicating that items were missing.
“We took a van that was in for service and restocking because the other two were out,” she explained. “Those are generic rounds that have trace amounts of silver in them. You would have to do extreme damage in crucial areas to kill a werewolf with those weapons, but that’s all we have, and they are better than nothing. The balls are stun and flash grenades. Those might be helpful against their enhanced senses. Pass me those and the pistol, and you take the shotgun.”
Although he had never fired a gun before, Sverre sensed how to load and handle the weapons. Jessica was impressed by his inherent knowledge.
“I suppose those are your souls’ instincts kicking in,” she said, thinking back to what she had read about Derrick and wondering if perhaps he was one of the souls inhabiting Sverre. Her grandfather could possibly say for sure.
They arrived in sixteen minutes. Jessica parked the van down the street, and they quickly ran to Sverre’s house. She was extremely concerned about his mental state and whether he would get them both killed. She pulled Casca from her sheath and commanded the blade to form while holding the pistol up at shoulder level.
Sverre walked behind her, checking his targets through the sights on the shotgun. Despite her doubts, it felt almost as if she had backup from one of her teammates behind her. He moved silently while using cover, and he kept to the shadows. Perhaps this wouldn’t be the complete disaster she feared it would be.
She motioned for him to head to the back door while she peered in the front windows and door in an attempt to ascertain the situation. She had outfitted him with an earbud transmitter from the van so they could communicate, but told him not to speak unless spoken to. Werewolves had hearing that was more acute than most dogs’.
Around back, Sverre deftly jumped the fence surrounding his yard and pulled up beside the back door, listening. The screen door was ajar, and the frame to the back door was splintered, the door ripped from its hinges. He could hear low guttural voices whispering inside.
“He’s not here,” one stated.
“We have been led astray. We must report back to Varulf,” the other replied.
Sverre quickly peeked inside, then ducked back around the corner. Two of them, similar to the one in the forest, except smaller. He could see the kitchen was in shambles, but he couldn’t see his mom or dad.
He could hear whimpering from the far end of the hall, followed by timid growling and barking.
“The dog has found his courage. He should keep quiet, but he is intent on defending this hovel,” the one on the left said with a chuckle.
“I’m not sure I would even call this insignificant creature a dog,” the other responded.
Chewy! Sverre thought, peeking around the corner.
At the end of the hall, his dog scampered and barked, attempting to ward off the intruders while battling his instinct to flee. Chewy was a small, ten-pound chihuahua his mom had rescued from the pound years ago. Sverre’s heart skipped a beat when the figure on the right grabbed Chewy by the scruff of his neck and brought him up to eye level, muzzle to muzzle. The small dog whimpered.
“We are two elite scouts of the Cen’Ful clan, dog. To challenge us is death, regardless of size or shape,” he growled, his lips pulling back to reveal rows of inch-long teeth.
Suddenly, his hand was caught in a vise-like grip that slowly constricted. Bones creaked and popped as the force increased. The werewolf howled in pain, dropping the dog, who scampered off, sliding across the hardwood floors. Both werewolves turned to see Sverre standing between them.
“How? A human snuck up on us?” the one on the left cried.
“THAT’S. MY. DOG!” Sverre shouted in rage as his other fist whistled through the air, connecting under the werewolf’s chin. Sverre’s blow lifted the creature from his feet and through the ceiling into the attic. Wood, dust, and drywall rained down, clouding visibility down the hallway. The deafening explosion of Sverre’s shotgun reverberated through the house, followed by a howl of pain.
Jessica burst in through the front door. Peering down the hallway, she could not make out the shapes in the dust cloud, but she could hear blows and fighting.
“Get back here!” she heard Sverre shout in frustration from the rear of the house.
Dashing to the back door, she arrived in time to see both werewolves leaping across neighbors’ back yards into the darkness. She looked up at the side of the house, noticing the wall of the attic had been ripped open, allowing the beast to escape.
Sverre ran across the yards in an attempt to follow, but even wounded, they were far faster and more agile than he was. Lights were popping on in the surrounding houses.
“Sverre. Sverre!” she whispered into her microphone. “Get back here! The neighbors are awake!” She noticed him pause and look around. He then ran back in the direction of the house.
“What were you thinking —” she began, but he brushed past her and into the house, shining a flashlight into rooms frantically. Finally, he paused at the living ro
om and walked in slowly.
Sprawled on the floor was his father, a look of terror frozen on his face. There were slash wounds from his neck down past his rib cage; his entire chest was flayed. Blood pooled around his prone form. Sverre knelt down and arranged his limbs in a more natural pose as his tears welled up. He gently closed his father’s eyes and grabbed a nearby blanket from the couch to cover the gruesome wounds.
“This is my fault,” he sobbed. Chewy moved beside his master, licking his arm. “Oh, Chewy, I know you tried your best,” he said with a slight smile which almost immediately faded back into a look of grief. Rising, he looked around the room again for any indication of his mother.
Shouting for his mother, he dashed upstairs. The noise of furniture being overturned and doors slamming thundered from above. After a few moments, he rushed back downstairs.
“I can’t find her, Jess!” he shouted, rummaging through the living room closet. He looked again through the rooms downstairs before returning. “She’s not here!”
Jessica whispered some commands into her headset, then joined Sverre. She looked down in pity at the scene before her. Memories she had long suppressed resurfaced against her will. She shut them out and put her hand gently on Sverre’s shoulder.
“We have to go. The cleanup squad is outside,” she said gently.
“I’m not going! This is my home! We have to find her!” he shouted, leaning down to touch the blanket his father’s body rested under.
“I’m sorry,” she said, sliding the needle into his neck. He instantly slumped over.
Men streamed into the room from the back door. Chewy barked at the new intruders.
“Load him into the van, and... the dog, too,” she said, gathering up their weapons and tools.
Sverre awoke in his room at the Farm. Someone had changed his clothes again. “Will people stop undressing and dressing me while I’m passed out?” he exclaimed. Rising, he felt numerous bruises and aches throughout his body from the night before. He ran downstairs to the kitchen.