Why These Two

by Jackie Ivie

  Not good.

  A moment later she was in front of him, her hand grazing the slight line of hair on his belly downward, and almost reaching his—

  Darryl grabbed her hand and yanked it off him, lifting her from the floor with the move. He had to consciously command his arm muscles to release her back to the floor.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  “Saving you. I’m just glad I’m in time.”

  “In time for what?”

  “That was Holy Water. I was told—”

  The door got kicked open, interrupting her. The owner of the heavy boots walked in, followed by six more men, packing the room. All strangely armed. All dressed in winter camouflage. Darryl had Felicia behind him against the back wall and his Beretta palmed and aimed at the first asshole. His move took two seconds. He watched the guy gulp. It was visible.

  “Somebody better start talking,” he said. “You got three seconds.”

  “Well. I think that answers our question,” the first guy said.

  “What question?”

  “She didn’t turn you yet…although it looks like she did a damn fine job with the partial job. And please. We’re harmless. You don’t have to shoot us.”

  “One,” Darryl replied.

  “Oh, stop. I’ll explain. Name’s Chester Beethan. I guess I’m Lord Beethan now, through the recent demise of my grandfather, the last title holder…although his death can’t be proven yet. There’s an issue with missing bodies, 4-D Teams being what they are. Have to wait for DNA results.”

  “Two,” Darryl said.

  “Very well. I’ll explain faster. I’m a Hunter. A vampire hunter. As are all the gentlemen around me. Please don’t shoot. We’re human.”

  The fist about his heart went into over-drive, making it feel like barbed wire wrapped that particular muscle. Darryl wavered, and then lowered the gun barrel.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “I want him found – and I want it done now!”

  “Wow. Reika. This is so…rad. I’ve never seen you upset. Is that one of your blades stuck in the wall?”

  Reika sneered at the laptop atop her travel trunk, and then turned. She’d already flung her knives into the walls before chucking furniture. The nightstand and bed where she’d found so much pleasure were right below her knives, resembling a stack of earthquake rubble. The wardrobe full of Darryl’s clothing was next. She picked it up and flung it, blinking rapidly against moisture that blurred and distorted. And burned. But did nothing to heal. Nothing soothed. Nothing assuaged.

  She’d taken the day to rest after the most exquisite night of her life, and awakened to this: An empty room. No sign of her mate. That’s when the worry started. A quick trip to the club from last night turned up nothing but a dance floor full of humans. No sign of Darryl. That’s when the anxiety started, resembling a chill breeze running her backbone. A visit to Darryl’s hotel got her the information that he and his entourage had checked out – destination unknown. She’d never dealt with emotions, and was dealing with too many of them, too quickly. That’s when the anguish had started. The desk clerk with the smiling face was lucky the lobby had been full and the place crawling with humans. He wouldn’t have lived, otherwise.

  “Get Akron for me! Move it, Nigel! Now!”

  The large wooden wardrobe was solidly constructed. A nice piece of furniture she’d have to reimburse the landlady for…if she didn’t kill her first. Reika didn’t know how to deal with feelings, and since hers had now changed to anger, everything was tainted with a red-shaded hue. Nobody was safe. Nothing was off limits. The wardrobe thudded when it hit the wall, knocking the picture of the rustic cabin in the woods from its peg. Then, with a groan, the large piece of furniture settled atop the mattress, its door open and dangling crookedly from where she’d broken the latch, while shirts and jackets started sliding off the dowels, adding material onto floor, and fuel to her rage. She was just advancing on the shirts thinking to shred them might help, when Akron’s voice stopped her.

  “Reika. Stop it. Now.”

  “Make me.”

  “Reika. Calm yourself. Don’t make me call in a 4-D Team. That’s a very nice inn. I’ve stayed there before.”

  “He’s gone, Akron! You don’t understand! He…left. And I don’t know where. I can’t find him.”

  Her voice softened. The shirts ended up clasped to her breast. Then shoved to her face, concealing what couldn’t possibly be grief. Reika shook with sobs she couldn’t remember ever experiencing, wetting the fabric near her face, while the newly awakened heart just kept pounding away within her breast. The area pained. Ached. Each beat sounding like a lost echo in a huge cavern.

  “I had no idea you held our talents in such low esteem. Please.”

  Reika wiped at her face, and fought for the stoicism that had been second nature before. And somehow found it. She looked over at the laptop, dark now with its ‘saved’ mode. Reika dropped the shirts and walked over to the trunk, going cross-legged onto the floor. She rolled her finger on the pad, brought her screen back to life, and looked at a desk containing a large screen laptop and a shadowy alcove.

  “You know where he is?”

  “Yes and no.”

  “Damn it, Akron—!”

  “A temper, too? This mating thing is totally over-rated in my opinion. That’s actually the problem here.”

  “What?” She didn’t have to pretend confusion.

  “This mating thing…it creates all kinds of entanglements, when all I want is a bit of clean operation and profitable kills. Last night, for instance. This entire situation started because Invaris invoked what I’m going to call The Mating Card.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “That’s what happens when one of my associates wants a special favor, deems it necessary because they’re mated, and then reminds me that I don’t know what it’s like. That’s The Mating Card.”

  “How does this relate to me?”

  “Oh. That’s how this particular debacle began. Invaris asked for some time off last evening. Seems it’s the one year anniversary of his mating with the lovely, Rori. He bought her something extra-special. He wanted time off to give it to her, as if he isn’t in the same grave with her every day. Oddly enough, when I reminded him that he has an eternity of anniversaries to buy for, he tossed The Mating Card, and told me I don’t know how it is. I actually thanked him without too much sarcasm. I did.”

  “He knows where Darryl is?” Reika asked.

  “Probably not. Impossible to check. I gave him three days off.”

  “Then what does he have to do with anything?”

  “I’m getting to that. Whenever Invaris gets time off, his replacement is Nigel.”

  “So?”

  “Well. Nigel is supposed to monitor every aspect of every communication network. Worldwide. We’ve got access to every network, because the moment anyone starts toying with designing one, we’re hacking in the back door. By the time they go live, we’re already connected. Immortality does have its uses, you know.”

  “Can’t you just tell me where Darryl is?”

  “I’m getting to that. Patience…is a virtue. Remember?”

  “What am I going to do?”

  Her back sagged. Her eyes watered up again. Her heart felt like it was getting squeezed, making every beat an effort.

  “Listen and learn, Beautiful. I have a very good reason for taking my time, so you might as well listen to my brilliance while I wait for the ducks to all line up.”

  Reika made a face at the screen.

  “And pretend to be in awe at my insight and ability. Is that too much to ask?”

  She almost smiled.

  “Very well then. I’ll continue. It all started this morning, a little past midnight. That’s when someone using a cell phone assigned to Trent Conglomerate used a search engine to look for Vampire Hunters. They found several websites, but honed in on the one for The Hunters. There was some back an
d forth communication. Want to hear it?”

  Reika shook her head.

  “No? Very well. It’s rather straight-forward messaging, anyway. And to be fair, nobody named names. And Nigel didn’t have an alert on Trent Conglomerates. His alert was for a Miss Felicia Trent. He also had an alert on a certain Darryl Bailes, mercenary/bodyguard. And, as always, he had an alert on Chester Beethan. All of which he should have been monitoring rather than playing that damn video game. Which he is now grounded from for at least a fortnight. Listen to me. Grounding my associates. Somebody should’ve raised that kid right in the first place, but it’s too late for regrets. His father is now deceased, courtesy of Grimm Bradley down in Texas. All of that aside, I’m afraid Nigel will never grow up. But to be fair, it does match his appearance.

  “And I’ll cut him some slack, but don’t tell him. He didn’t know Darryl Bailes was connected to Miss Trent. He didn’t know about any connection to you. And there are millions of searches done on vampires and hunters every day; practically every hour. Add to that, Chester Beethan flies all over the planet for virtually no reason that we can decide more days than he stays at his home in Manchester. Just because Beethan picked Switzerland for a destination didn’t mean much. Not to Nigel. He didn’t know you were there. We had no live assignments there. No reason to be interested at all. And that explains how the Hunters managed to get to your mate before we could.”

  “The Hunters have him?”

  “Yep. And after a bit of conversation with Miss Felicia Trent, they probably know he’s your mate. They got him, and now they’re going to use him. Against you. It’s one of their oldest tricks. They’re going to bait you. Now…if I was Chester, I’d be doing my best to recruit the guy. I assume he’s half turned?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then, he’d be a perfect fit in their operation…if they can eliminate any pining he might be experiencing for you. That’s exactly what the late Lord Beethan would have done. And he trained his grandson.”

  “So…you do know where he is?”

  “Not exactly, but I have some very good guesses. We’re going to use Invaris’s replacement to narrow them down. Excuse me a moment.”

  Nothing moved on the screen, but a moment later she could hear him calling for Nigel from somewhere off camera.

  “Nigel! Front and center. Link up. This is your mess. You can just help fix it.”

  “Yes Sir. Hi again, Reika.”

  Her screen split into two parts; Nigel’s electric signature on the left, Akron’s vacant-looking alcove on the right. Reika nodded.

  “Last location fix on Beethan and his group again?”

  “Warsaw.”

  “That’s right. Warsaw. I don’t supposed either of you have heard of Die Glocke?”

  “No.”

  It was said in unison.

  “Die Glocke means bell. It was a secret Nazi program, something to do with time travel and aliens, if you can believe that. They built a series of military installations to protect one site. Called the complex Der Riese, or The Giant. And then, after the war, the entire place was abandoned to time and the environment. It’s a bunch of old, decrepit buildings. Miles of underground tunnels. Still pretty secret.”

  “You think he’s there?”

  “I’m saying it needs investigating. I’m sending the twins to assist.”

  “No.”

  “They’re already on their way, Reika. They’ll beat you there. Why do you think I extended this conversation? I’d give you Len as a contact, but he’s recuperating from Texas. Or so he says. That’s why he’s booked to our place in Bora Bora for a week. On my dime. I believe I’ll bring in Roger. Can you see to that, Nigel?”

  “On it Sir.”

  “One more thing, Reika.”

  “Yes?”

  She was on her feet, looking down at the monitor.

  “Don’t force him. Darryl. No force.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s my rule. Humans get a choice. They accept this mating thing of their own accord. Anything else will reap punishment. From me.”

  “That’s unfair.”

  “Unfair or not, it’s the rule. No turning a resisting human. You can’t imagine the hell that creates. You think a scorned spouse in divorce court is bad. It’s nothing in comparison to a newly turned vampire with a hate mission. You should have been here in 1227 when…”

  He was still talking when she hit the off button.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Ah. Poland in February. The cold. Wind. Dark. Snow. Darryl was guessing on the last two since the vehicle didn’t have windows. All it had was a low-watt fluorescent tube mounted down the middle of the roof. Heck. The only thing worse was spending six months in the Amazon, fighting the heat and humidity, and the never-ending onslaught of insects.

  If he had the choice, he’d be on his way to the states, not riding blindly atop a road that needed grooming, in a vehicle that could use more insulation, a heat source, and a good bit of rust removal and putty before repainting. To heaven knew where. Some hidden base. Some secret hide-out. Didn’t matter. He was just playing along. He had that decided when two of them nailed him with some weird kind of stunners – hooks that latched into his pecs, dripping more of that fluid that felt more like acid than Holy Water. Every portion of his body had gone into lockdown while Felicia Trent screamed behind him. He couldn’t turn around to see how they’d silenced her. Nothing obeyed his command. He stood shuddering, but docile, while they’d divested him of his weapons. One guy even latched onto Darryl’s prize; that Italian seventeenth century dagger from Reika.

  The ability to move didn’t return until they turned off the continual stream of water and pulled the hooks out. And then mobility came in stages. They’d used the time to shove his arms through his jacket sleeves, prior to tying his hands with some silver-colored cord interlaced with crosses. From behind his back, he could feel the crucifixes dangling, making a weird religious charm bracelet. They also smarted each time they touched flesh. Not enough to wound, just enough to sting. He had the sensation firmly assigned to the section of his brain that he used for controlling pain, as they’d marched him out, that Beethan asshole leading the way.

  Darryl had been walked past the reception desk, where the doctor and Nurse Krakow lay prone, neither looking as if they’d be waking anytime soon, if at all. He’d breathed a sigh of relief at seeing them place Miss Trent into her chauffeur’s arms, giving some sort of bullshit story about a faint, before bundling him into a windowless van that held everyone else. And if he didn’t have super hearing, he wouldn’t have known they were headed to Warsaw. They wanted to see if he was recruitment material, what his skill set was. His accuracy. Stamina. And design a plan to eliminate his vampire. Nobody said her name. They didn’t have to.

  At the words, his heart had given him trouble again, causing a hitch in each breath he worked at ignoring, sending it to the same place all pain went. The squeezing sensation about his heart seemed to get sharper and last longer each time. He sure hoped it didn’t mean what he suspected. He shouldn’t care what happened to Reika. As far as he was concerned, she could take a flying leap into purgatory. Even if she wasn’t a monster, he wasn’t the loving type; never had been. In his line of work, loving someone got them injured. Kidnapped. Maybe even killed. He refused to care about her. Not in this lifetime, nor the eternity she’d offered. He didn’t dare love Reika.

  He’d rather have the bullet back.

  Darryl looked at the boots in the floorboard of their truck bed. The lighting was perfect with his new super-vision. It wasn’t bright, a bonus since one of them had plucked the sunglasses off his face. He could still see perfectly. Better than twenty-ten. Amazing. And he was keeping that to himself.

  Five guys sat opposite him, another two on either side; swaying and jolting whenever the road decided it. Their boots interlaced with the man across. Except his. He had his legs crossed - one ankle atop the other - as if this was just another ride to a mission a
nd he’d better get some shuteye while he could. It would be more comfortable if he brought his hands forward, but that wasn’t in his plan. They hadn’t untied him, but the cord they used had filaments that stretched. He’d worked free within ten minutes of getting settled onto this hard bench. He didn’t know for sure where they were headed or what direction and it appeared they’d put a gag order in effect or something. No matter how he strained to hear, nobody spoke, except a curse now and again muttered from beneath some guy’s breath in the cab. Darryl was going to assume that was the driver.

  February. In Poland. Wonderful.

  Darryl lifted his head and looked at the men across from him, picking out the asshole with his dagger strapped to his hip, one man to the left. That fellow looked heavier than the others, resembling a big block without much neck. Older. Maybe…thirty-five. Not like the one on Darryl’s right. That guy was at most, twenty-two. Maybe less. Didn’t even appear the guy shaved yet.

  “Hey. You. Isn’t it Valentine’s Day tomorrow?”

  Blockhead looked like he didn’t want to answer. When he did, it was in a grudging fashion, like Darryl was trying to break into an exclusive club without an invite.

  “What of it?”

  That changed one supposition. No gag order. For the back of the truck, anyway.

  “You don’t send roses to your sweetheart?”

  “No.”

  “Why not? Don’t you have one?”

  No answer. Darryl kept talking. His voice sounded weird; like he’d gained depth and range to it…that, or the truck had great acoustics. “You still got time. I understand you can order them delivered off the ‘net. Twenty-four, seven.”

  “I’m a Hunter. And a damn good one. See these patches here?” The guy pointed to a large, sewn-on, blend of color just above his chest pocket. It resembled a full-bird colonel’s patch collection.

  “Yeah.”

  “These on top are rare. They’re given for pair kills. I have four. You know what that means?”

  Darryl’s heart reacted with a thump that hurt. He tensed slightly, even as he worked to staunch it. He narrowed his eyes. Forced his body to endure what was turning into real pain and suffering. Finally got it subdued. Damn everything! He didn’t love Reika! He didn’t. He couldn’t. It wouldn’t work. He was a heartless soldier. To the bone. All he wanted was his freedom.