by Craig Zerf
Chapter 5
William walked into the room to find Tag sitting on the table, shirt off with a bored expression on his face. The Prof stood over an old fashioned brass microscope, a scalpel on one hand and a ball peen hammer in the other.
‘Hey,’ said William. ‘Rumor has it that you’re ripping out my Oak trees like weeds. What gives?’
Tag reached into his trouser pocket, pulled out the solid nugget of steel and threw it to William. The Omega caught it, stared at it and shrugged. ‘What’s this?’
‘Teapot,’ answered Tag.
‘Could have fooled me. Why’s it so…small?’
‘I crushed it by mistake this morning,’ said Tag. ‘I mean, I literally gave it a gentle squeeze and the mother turned onto a lump of solid steel. So I went outside to test my strength on something a little more resistant than a teapot. Pulled a tree out. Came to see the Prof to find out what gives.’
‘Well next time, pick up a car or something,’ said William. ‘That tree was over twenty years old.’ He turned to the Prof. ‘So, what’s going on? Has Tag suddenly developed super-strength?’
The Prof looked up from the microscope. ‘In a word…yes,’ he confirmed.
Tag punched the air. ‘Yes. I’m a friggin superhero. Immortal, super strong, bad ass mother. Think I’ll get myself a cool spandex outfit. A cape. Call myself Reggae-man or Extra super-dooper dude.’
‘Extra super-dooper dude?’ Asked William. ‘Really?’
The Prof held his hand up. ‘Before we start the celebrations, there are a few things that I need to explain. The whys and wherefores etcetera.’
‘Oh oh,’ said Tag. ‘This doesn’t sound good. When the Prof starts with his pros and cons, the cons normally come out ahead. Okay, Prof. What’s the bad news?’
‘Let’s start with the increase in strength,’ said the Prof. ‘It seems as though Emily has transmitted some sort of virus to you when she fed. In anyone else this would have been fatal. However, in your case, your regenerative powers are constantly replacing your infected blood with fresh red blood cells. As a result your heart rate has increased to around five times what it was. This has caused your muscle density, adrenalin capacity and so on to increase exponentially. In other words, your body has been turbocharged.’
‘Exceptionally cool,’ retorted Tag. ‘I’m a supercharged mother.’
‘Hmm,’ grunted the Prof. ‘Herein lies the potential bad news. You see, every human heart has the capacity for around two billion beats before it expires. Prior to this infection your heartbeat had dropped to around thirty beats a minute. That had the knock on effect of extending your possible lifespan to two hundred years or so. However, now your heartbeat is up at one hundred and eighty beats a minute. Theoretically, that might shorten your life to another ten years maximum.’
‘Bummer,’ said Tag. ‘But won’t my regeneration sort that out?’
The Prof shrugged. ‘I honestly do not know,’ he answered. ‘You are a truly unique living organism. I can but extrapolate on what evidence that I have before me.’
Tag shook his head. ‘Don’t sweat it, Prof. I heard the words, might, perhaps and potential in that speech. I’ll take that as a maybe and choose to ignore it. Who knows, might be I still live to be a hundred and plenty.’
‘Perhaps,’ admitted the Prof.
‘Cool,’ said Tag. ‘I’m going to tell Emily that I’m a superhuman. Maybe pick up a car or two. Awesome.’
The Prof and William watched the big man leave.
‘Sometimes he’s like a child,’ noted the Prof. ‘Lives only in the moment.’
‘True,’ agreed William. ‘But a brave child. He never puts his life above anyone else’s. He would defend us all to his last breath. A truly selfless man. I do hope that you are wrong, Prof. It would be nice for the big man to get a break. He deserves it.’
There was the sound of a loud crash outside and William went to the window. He saw Tag standing next to an overturned Landrover, his face a mask of guilt. Next to him stood Emily, and it was obvious from her expression that she was trying her hardest not to laugh.
William didn’t bother and his laughter rang out loud and long.
Tag looked up and shook his head. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘It slipped.’
***
That night Emily began to get back in contact with the gargoyles, starting with Coldstone Matthew Kent Granite, the first gargoyle that she had met and the de facto leader of the rest of them.
‘Coldstone,’ she thought.
‘Greetings Emily Guardian leader, now known as Daywalker.’
‘You know?’ Asked Emily.
‘We know much,’ replied Coldstone. ‘Although our numbers are depleted, we still watch from the length and breadth of Europe as well as the United Kingdom.’
‘It’s been a while,’ noted Em.
Coldstone made that odd grating sound that Emily knew was laughter. ‘To a human, perhaps,’ he admitted. ‘But to a gargoyle it was less than a blink of an eye. We have noted vampires but when we called you did not answer.’
‘As you apparently knew, I was busy,’ said Em. ‘But I’m back and it’s time to go to work. Send word, I feel the need to hunt.’
‘Ready yourselves, Guardian leader,’ said Coldstone. ‘We shall find prey for you.’
Emily stood up and stretched before she spoke to Troy. ‘We need to put the teams back together again,’ she said. ‘Spread them around the country so that we can go back on the offensive.’
Troy shook his head. ‘To soon,’ he said. ‘We saw what those elite vamps are capable of. They’re more than a match for our boys. And if we spread ourselves too thin and they outnumber us, then there is every chance that we will lose. They’re too fast, too strong and too well trained to take on without numerical advantage.’
‘But you know as well as I that if we bulk the teams up, maybe fifteen or twenty per team, then we simply cannot cover enough ground. We have to get out there, Troy,’ insisted Em. ‘Every day that we don’t, more people die. More of the homeless disappear, more indigents and teenage runaways.’
‘I will not put the Pack at risk,’ said Troy. ‘And if we send out teams of less than twenty, then they are at risk.’
‘What does William think about that?’ Asked Emily. ‘Have you spoken to him?’
The young Alpha shook his head. ‘No. But there is no need. I am senior Alpha. It is my Pack. The Omega would not see fit to intervene.’
‘Troy,’ continued Em. ‘We have to get out there. I insist.’
Troy flinched as Emily spoke. ‘Em,’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘Stop that.’
Emily’s hand flew to her mouth. ‘Oh, shit. I’m sorry, Troy. Genuinely. I didn’t mean to coerce you. It just happens.’
‘No worries,’ gasped the wolf in relief. ‘But try to control it. Resisting makes you feel like someone is trying to shuck your brain out of your head with a crowbar.’
Em laid her hand on Troy’s cheek. ‘Sorry. What do you suggest then?’
‘I need to train my lads,’ he replied. ‘We fight like wolves. A Pack of individuals. Instead we need to learn to fight as one giant being with many teeth and claws. We need to become better. Faster. More deadly than ever before. Nathan has upped the game we need to respond in kind. I need at least two months before we are ready.’
‘What do we do until then?’ Asked Em. ‘Just let people die?’ She shook her head. ‘I cannot accept that.’
‘If I may intervene,’ said Sylvian as he walked into the room. ‘I apologize but I couldn’t help but overhear your dilemma,’ he continued. ‘It’s one of the curses of having hyper-developed senses. Do you agree that a team consisting of Emily, Troy, Tag, Bastian, Muller and I would be safe against superior odds?’ He asked both Em and Troy.
Troy laughed. ‘Unless there were in excess of fifty, maybe even a hundred of those super-vamps then, yes, I reckon we could kick proverbial ass. But one team does not a force make. What are the chances that an attack
will take place within striking distance of us? I’d say close to zero.’
‘I agree,’ conceded the Frenchman. ‘However, do you remember Latobias?’
‘The God dude,’ said Em. ‘God of flying or something. He took us to France.’
‘That’s him,’ said Sylvian. ‘The Celtic god of wind and air.’
‘What about him?’ Asked Troy.
‘He’s been in contact with me,’ answered the Bloodborn. ‘The long and the short of it is that he would like to get involved in the fight. Always has and always will hate vamps. So, I could base him here with a helicopter and with his powers he could get us pretty much anywhere in the country in mere minutes. Remember how he cut the trip to France down from over an hour to less than twenty minutes. And he’s capable of doing it even faster if needs be.’
‘Now we’re talking,’ said Em with a grin.
‘I’ll tell him,’ confirmed Sylvian. ‘He’ll be here within the hour. He’ll bring a Eurocopter. Capable of transporting up to eight people.’
‘Exceptionally cool,’ quipped Troy. ‘Go for it.’
Chapter 6
Troy had appointed Rufus Gray as his Beta and the older wolf had accepted his new post with grace. His Omega had spoken and, unlike the late Lucas Caine, he would obey his Omega without question. Now he served Troy with the same quiet dedication. And for what he lacked in verve and panache he made up for with a solid, no-nonsense common sense and a calm and thorough way of thinking. He was Troy’s perfect positive foil.
As well as Rufus, Troy had seconded the Knight of the Holy See, Dietz Muller, to help with the training of the Pack. And, although the Pack would never dream of arguing or disobeying their new Alpha there was a definite sense of unrest amongst them. The fact of the matter was that Pack did not train. Pack was strength in itself. They were werewolf. Proud. Independent. Strong.
They were not a company of troops to be disciplined and coached in fighting methods. It was unnatural and unwanted. And, as far as they were concerned, unnecessary. So they did as they were told but worked only to the letter.
It was frustrating the new Alpha to no end and he was close to snapping.
Strangely enough it was Muller, the only non-wolf, who broke the impasse.
The whole Pack, except for Troy, had changed to wolf form and Troy was attempting to get them to move together in formation. A sort of wolf-close-order-march. Instead it looked more like a bunch of individuals walking in roughly the same direct whilst constantly looking all over the place.
Muller put his hands on his hips and laughed out loud. The Pack stopped and stared at him. Their golden eyes not blinking. Jaws open. Tongues lolling out.
Rufus morphed smoothly into human form. ‘What’s so amusing, church man?’ He asked.
The grizzled knight raised an eyebrow. ‘Oh,’ he said in mock surprise. ‘Did you think that I was amused? I see, you thought that I was laughing at something funny.’ He shook his head. ‘No,’ he continued. ‘I was laughing scornfully. I was laughing at your pathetic attempt to be better than you are. I was laughing derisively.’
Some of the other Pack members changed back to human form. Others stayed as wolves, growling their displeasure at the knight’s disdain.
‘You speak out of place,’ said Rufus. ‘I would watch myself if I were you.’
Muller shook his head. ‘I am not you,’ he said. ‘I am Sergeant Dietz Muller of the Holy See and I have personally killed over one hundred and twenty vampires. How many have you killed?’ He asked Rufus. Then he faced the Pack. ‘How many have you all killed? You advise me to watch myself. You dare to threaten me? I watched your Alpha destroy ten of your best without even breaking a sweat.’ He turned to face Troy. ‘Tell me, Alpha,’ he asked. ‘Could you have taken on ten Bloodwraiths and won? Could you even have survived?’
Troy shook his head.
‘Could you have taken on five?’
Troy put his hand out and rocked it from side to side. ‘Maybe.’
‘Enough said,’ continued the knight. ‘So what would happen if fifty Bloodwraiths attacked you lot? Or a hundred? I’ll tell you what … dead. All of you.’
There was a shamefaced silence amongst the wolves. Eventually Rufus spoke. ‘But how does what we are doing help?’
‘Discipline,’ answered Muller. ‘Control. Tactics. Awareness.’ He took a deep breath, contemplating his next words. ‘Many years ago, when the mighty Roman Empire ruled the world, who did Julius Caesar acknowledge as the greatest warrior nation?’
‘The Romans, obviously,’ answered Rufus. There was a general mumble of agreement from the Pack.
Muller shook his head. ‘No. Around fifty BC Caesar pronounced that there was no greater warrior than the Celt and his broadsword. His actual words were, I can see no man in all my Empire that could stand toe to toe with the Celt and win. Weight for weight the Celt and his broadsword constitute the single mightiest warrior in the world.’
‘Well then how come the Romans kicked their asses?’ Asked one of the Pack members.
‘Because the Romans were the greatest soldiers in the world,’ countered Muller. ‘You, the Pack. You are the Celts. But the Bloodwraiths are more disciplined. They have been trained by one Nathan Tremblay, an ex-Shadowhunter. So they know how to fight. In battle they don’t all just do as they would, they do things according to a plan. And that is what your Alpha is trying to get you to do. Instead of a group of single men with broadswords he wants to meld you into a single organism. A true Pack. One mind, one goal. One outcome. Victory.’
There was a pause before Rufus spoke. ‘We understand.’ He turned to Troy and went down on one knee. ‘I apologize for my obtuseness, Alpha.’
Troy nodded. ‘Good. Now, let us start from the beginning.’
As one the Pack became wolves once again.
***
It had been a long day. Under Muller’s auspices the Pack had trained together in close combat. Muller had broken them down into teams of three. He called them ‘Combat Units’. Between Troy and himself they had figured out a way that they thought would give them an advantage when fighting the Bloodwraiths. Firstly the wolves would stay ranked together, no single one charging into battle by himself. Next, whenever a Bloodwraith was attacked it would be done by a three wolf ‘Combat Unit’. The combined attack by three coordinated wolves should make short work of even the best that the vamps could offer. And at the same time that the Combat Unit was attacking the rest of the Pack would keep the other Bloodwraiths off that team’s back.
Simple in planning but immensely difficult in practicality.
But both Muller and Troy were confident that the Pack would get it right.
After he had knocked the Pack off for the day, Troy had decided that he needed some alone time and had retained his wolf form to run through the surrounding forest. He had no specific plan, simply run free. After an hour or so he decided to head back, his mind clear and his muscles comfortably tired. About a mile from the house he picked up a familiar scent and stopped running, moving ahead in a slow loping motion, flitting from shadow to shadow as the sun went down. Invisible and silent.
Up ahead in a small clearing he saw William and Emily. They were walking. Side by side. Their hands not quite touching.
And then William turned to Emily, held her face in his hands and kissed her.
It wasn’t until that moment that Troy realized the depth of his feelings for the girl that had just become the Daywalker.
But there was nothing that he could do. The Omega had chosen and Troy was Pack. With a feeling approaching despair he crushed his emotions and packaged them away in a shady recess of his soul. Emily was untouchable. The Omega’s mate was sacrosanct.
Troy no longer felt like going home and instead he turned and ran back into the forest.
Back into the coming night.
Back into the darkness.
Chapter 7
On the face of it, Nathan’s plan was a lesson in simplicity. But, like man
y simple things, it hid behind it’s façade a raft of complexities that made it less of a fixed plan and more of a general idea.
Bluntly put, the general idea that the ex-Shadowhunter had come up with was…use the power and resources of the Nosferatu to subjugate, take control of and command the entire criminal underworld of the United Kingdom, starting with London. All organized crime from illegal gambling and protection rackets through to prostitution and people trafficking.
Then, when he had achieved de facto control, he would use his criminal network to track down Emily and her wolves so that he could exterminate them utterly and completely.
His next step would be to put his idea to the Elders as he was wont to do by order of the Capo. He knew that to get anything past them he would need to solidify his idea. He would need facts, figures, dates and a plan of action. As well as that he would need a good reason to drive the whole thing.
Obviously the move would bring more power to the brethren. As well as vast quantities of wealth. However, that in itself would not be enough. No, the Nosferatu were already a spectacularly wealthy organization. As for power, many in the upper echelons felt that they already wielded enough of that, although Nathan disagreed. But the one trump card was the Corona Potestatum. The Capo was still obsessed with the artifact and any chance of acquiring it would give impetus to Nathan’s plan.
Nathan left his room to demand assistance from the brethren in the house.
Chapter 8
They were a fairly obscure Cornwall based chapter of the brethren. But this year they were hosting a get-together. Mainly younger vamps, turned between ten and twenty years before. But also a few Elders. Hundreds of years old. Powerful.
They even had two Bloodwraiths in the group of revelers.