by Sandra Hill
“I still can’t believe you did all this, on top of your island hideaway,” Regina said.
“Like I said, I’ve been around a very long time . . . almost two thousand years. Lots of time between missions. And occasionally, like I said, when I had enough space carved out, I had Lucipires to help me.”
Jogeir came in then with several vangels who needed to take a shower to remove some Lucipire mung. Jogeir was given the tour, too, and was equally impressed.
For some reason, Zeb didn’t bask as much in Jogeir’s compliments as he had with Regina’s. “Love the TV. Bet a Phillies game on that screen would be awesome.”
Regina muttered something like, “Men!”
“What did you say?” Jogeir asked.
“I said, ‘Men!’ They see a marvel of architectural ingenuity, carving a home out of rock, and all they can comment on is the TV.”
Zeb grinned at her assessment. Me? An architectural genius? I’m going to remind her of that the next time she snarks at me.
“Well, it is big,” Jogeir said defensively. Then, “I wonder if Mike will allow you to keep this cave. Possibly as another vangel outpost.”
“I didn’t think of that,” Zeb said.
The question in all their minds, though, was: Would there continue to be vangels when this war was over?
Then Jogeir gave them a post-op report. “Thirty Lucies destroyed and off to Hell, ten Lucies killed but no heart piercing; so, they’re back at Horror by now and will come back as Lucies once again. We lost five vangels. I pray to God we will be able to rescue them when we hit the target there. Hopefully, the Lucies will be too busy out on field missions to torture them right away.”
Regina cringed at the prospect, having witnessed firsthand Jasper’s torture room. “Speaking of which, will we go to Afghanistan or directly to Horror?”
“Um, that’s the thing,” Jogeir stammered. “You two and fifty vangels are going to stay here.”
“What?” Zeb and Regina said at the same time.
“The possibility was discussed back at the castle, but a definite decision was handed down when I relayed to Vikar your remark, Zeb. You know what you told me, about how the Lucies would return here after an initial retreat?” The vangel leaders were able to communicate with each other via specially designed wireless devices, similar to cell phones but much more secure and with wider ranges. “We have to get every single one of them. I’m sending my half of the vangels on to Fallujah right away, but I’ll stay until tonight, just to make sure everything is secure.”
In fact, when Zeb scanned the area, he realized that half the vangels were already gone. They must have already teletransported out. Quick work, that. But then, these were important, and dangerous, times for vangels. Timing and manpower were everything.
Jogeir gave Zeb and Regina pointed looks. “Like I said, you two will remain, equally in charge.”
“Pfff! Cleanup work! You’re doing this because I’m a woman,” Regina snarled. She made as if to attack Jogeir, but Zeb held her back by tugging on her braid which had come loose during the fighting. She didn’t struggle against his restraint, so he assumed she’d meant no harm, just an aggressive motion to show she was as much top dog as any man.
“Not at all.” Jogeir put up both hands in surrender. Then he crisscrossed his hands over his groin to ward off one of Regina’s famous cock curses. He was probably teasing. No one really believed that nonsense. Did they?
“It’s important work, Regina, for a man, as well as a woman,” Jogeir continued. “And I made the final call, if you want to blame someone.” Zeb noticed that Jogeir still had one hand casually over the crotch of his pants.
Zeb was just glad to be given any job at all as a vangel. Or almost-vangel. Or whatever he was.
“Keep in mind, we could just destroy this cave headquarters, thus taking away a Lucie nest, but, as we discussed earlier, this could be a valuable vangel outpost. Plus, we don’t want to alert all of Greece that we’re here with an explosion, even one that implodes. Even if they think this old volcano is erupting, it would be attention we don’t want.”
“Got it,” Regina said.
Zeb nodded his agreement.
“One more thing,” Jogeir said, hesitating.
Uh-oh!
“I’m going to take a few vangels to recon for a few miles’ radius and make sure the villagers in that town about ten miles from here aren’t alerted to our presence. You two are going to have to clean up that mess of slime and abandoned clothing and weapons out there. Sorry to leave you with such a dirty job, but we can’t risk some humans seeing it. Even a plane passing over might notice the scene and alert authorities.”
“See!” Regina snapped. “Women’s work. You give the cleaning job to a woman.”
“Shut up, Regina,” Zeb said.
That got her attention, and that of Jogeir, who grinned.
“It’s not just a woman he assigned this task. It’s me and fifty vangels out there, as well.” Zeb patted her shoulder to show he understood her chagrin. “Besides, there are two other female vangels in this contingent.”
She shrugged his hand away. “Still . . .”
The witch just couldn’t let go. Persistent, she was, and stubborn.
Then she told Jogeir, “Sorry if I overreacted.” But to Zeb, she said, “Jerk!”
Zeb grinned now, too.
“How long do we stay here?” Regina asked Jogeir in a calmer voice.
“I would think two days, three max, would be more than enough,” Jogeir answered. Then he turned to Zeb. “What do you think?”
“Sounds about right. They’ll be back, for certain. It’s the pattern most Lucipires follow in battle. Retreat and Return.”
“Like the Navy SEALs expressions ‘Spray and Pray,’ or ‘Escape and Evade,’ or that well-known ‘Shock and Awe.’”
“Exactly,” Zeb concurred, adding, “In addition to wanting to continue the battle, they won’t abandon a long-held nest, and this is a valuable location to them. It probably won’t be until tomorrow, though. They’ll need time to regroup and add other Lucies to their troop. Without a leader, there will be initial chaos.”
Jogeir nodded his understanding, and Regina, now that she was over her initial pique, inserted, “We’ll be on the alert today, however, just in case.” Clearly, Regina was asserting her authority.
That was all right with Zeb.
Jogeir gathered his team, and they were soon gone on the scouting mission.
“Okay, Regina, we have some decisions to make. Cook or clean?”
“What?”
“Are you going to make some kind of meal for all of us, or are you going to lead the project to clean up the slop outside?”
She frowned at him. “I pick slop.”
Chapter 14
Home, Sweet, Home . . .
Slime, slime, slime.
Phew, phew, phew!
She had only herself to blame. She knew that, but still she persisted in muttering rude insults regarding Zeb, and zapping curses on various parts of his anatomy.
Not that he could hear her or that her curses worked. She was in the shower with its rain forest showerhead, washing away foul-smelling slime and Lucie cooties, with tepid water since a large number of vangels, those most covered with the goop, had already depleted the hot water. In the end, they’d given up on digging holes and shoveling the slime in. Instead, they shoveled ashes, which were in plentiful supply thanks to the volcano, over the slime. It would have to do.
Regina expected to come away smelling fresh as . . . well, rain, after her shower, half hoping that soap would be the answer to Zeb’s compelling scent. But, no, there was just Irish Spring body wash. If it was in all the bathrooms, the whole company would be smelling like a pine forest, she thought, smiling to herself. Regardless, it was good to be clean.
The washing machine was also running nonstop for the worst of the vangels’ apparel. Zeb had given them all clothing from his own supply to use in the meantime
. After her shower, she donned sweatpants, a sweatshirt, and her combat boots. It wouldn’t do to walk barefoot on these stone floors.
Despite their seemingly relaxed attitudes, all the vangels kept their weapons ready at all times. Regina’s cloak with all the knives she’d retrieved from the battlefield lay across a hamper. Later, she would clean and sharpen all her blades.
The delicious smell of tomato sauce, which Zeb was making in a huge pot, wafted through all the nooks and crannies of the “cave,” heavy on the garlic and basil.
“I thought vampires were supposed to be repelled by garlic,” she had commented when she’d seen him chopping numerous garlic cloves.
“I’m not that kind of vampire,” he had replied, waggling his eyebrows at her. Which caused her to notice, for about the hundredth time, his incredibly long eyelashes.
It was odd to be doing these mundane tasks in the midst of a war, but Regina and Zeb had set up a schedule whereby twenty-five vangels would be on guard duty, outside, all around the volcano setting, while the other twenty-five inside, rested. There would be a rotation every four hours to make sure the vangels were alert. Jogeir was out there now, having not yet left for Afghanistan. Zeb intended to take the ten-to-two shift; she would be two-to-six a.m. By six, they were all to be on alert for returning vangels.
It was only five p.m. now, and Regina heard her stomach rumble with hunger. She made her way to the kitchen where Zeb, with a chef’s apron over his jeans and T-shirt, was ladling out sauce from a big pot onto heavy paper plates of fettucine. A long tray of warm garlic bread sat on the counter.
There were about fifteen vangels sitting around the living room, eating, or reclining on couches, or even the floor. The rest of the twenty-five were back in the other lounge or taking a quick nap. Trond had told her one time that SEALs had a knack for sleeping whenever they could grab a few minutes while on a live op, even standing up. She felt like she could do that herself.
Unable to stifle a wide yawn, she sat down on a stool by the island to watch Zeb work. He turned to look at her, having doled out what seemed to be the last plate to be filled, for now. “Hungry?” he asked.
“Famished,” she said, and watched as he plated pasta and sauce and topped it with a slice of bread. He also gave her a small bottled water, which was marvelously cool. “Umm, this is really good,” she said taking the first bite. “What is it?”
“Pasta Puttanesca, which means ‘in the style of a prostitute.’ It was a dish that was quick and easy for the ladies of the night to make between clients.” Zeb sat down beside her on another stool and took a swig of his own bottled water. He had taken a shower as well, and smelled not of Irish Spring, but of fresh rain.
“You’re making that up.”
“No, it’s the truth,” he said. “There’s no meat in it. So, it wouldn’t spoil while . . . you know?” More eyebrow waggling.
She continued to eat. Maybe it was just that she was so hungry, but the mixture of tomatoes, garlic, basil, black olives, capers, cheese, and, yes, anchovies, which she usually hated, was salty and spicy and better than anything she’d ever eaten. She moaned with appreciation at every bite.
“Please don’t do that,” he urged.
“What?”
“Moan.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s causing me problems.”
“Like what?” He wasn’t making sense.
He hesitated, and she could swear he blushed. “It appears as if I’m getting my mojo back.”
It took her a second to realize what he meant. Then she blushed, too. “It’s probably just adrenaline rush from the battle. I’ve heard lots of men claim the need for sex after fighting.”
“Uh-huh,” he said, clearly not buying it.
“Really, it’s a normal reaction. I don’t take it personally. Probably any woman would garner the same reaction.”
“I didn’t feel the same way when Inga and Dagmar were here a little while ago.” Those were the other female vangels on this mission. They were Norse sisters who’d joined the vangels about a hundred years ago.
“Maybe because they’re a mite older than you,” she said, trying to be kind when what she thought was, and homelier than bulldogs.
Zeb leaned closer to her and dabbed at the side of her mouth with a paper napkin. Then he didn’t draw away, but leaned even closer so that she felt his breath when he murmured, “Do you have an answer for everything?”
At the moment, she couldn’t think of a thing to say, so wrapped was she in the aura that seemed to surround them. As for him getting his mojo back, she was feeling a tug in that region, as well. Her lady parts were coming to attention in a way they hadn’t for centuries, if ever. Whoo-boy!
A change of subject was needed, Regina decided. “Tell me about your life, what you did before . . .”
She could tell that he knew what she meant without her finishing the sentence. She half expected him to evade the question or tell her it was none of her business. Instead, he was forthcoming.
“I died in the year AD 76. A suicide. Unfortunately, a Lucipire was nearby . . . in fact, a young Jasper, it was . . . young in demon vampire years, I mean. I probably would have gone to Hell anyway, but he harvested me for his own group.”
“I had no idea. No wonder Jasper is so outraged by your rejection.”
Zeb nodded. “He often said I was like a son to him. Creepy, huh?”
“Did you ever feel any affection for him? Or any bond?”
“Never. In the beginning, I was too stunned by everything that had happened to my family, and my role in it, to care where I was. And, believe me, it was primitive living in the early days. No castles or luxury accommodations. We came to favor caverns around the world. They were roomy and hidden. Most humans feared entering them. But the bats! I shudder even today when I see one of the flying creatures.”
She had to smile at that. “A demon afraid of a little harmless bat?”
“We all have our phobias.” He shrugged. “What’s yours?”
“Snakes. I hate snakes.” She shivered with distaste.
He smiled then. “I rather like them. They eat bugs in my garden.”
She wasn’t to be diverted. “Tell me more. Why did you commit suicide, if you don’t mind my asking?”
He got up to help two newly showered vangels to food and bottled waters. They spoke briefly about the mission and the game on TV. After they went over to the living room to sit down with their food, he poured two cups of coffee, bringing them back to the island. He’d remembered that she took hers black.
“I had a good life, a wonderful life, but I couldn’t see that for the greed that blinded me. I adored my wife, Sarah, and two children, twins, Rachel and Mikah. I had a small vineyard passed down in my family and a modest house. We were not wealthy by any means. In fact that was the crux of the problem. I should have been happy with what I had, but I coveted my neighbor’s land with its water access which would have made such a good addition to mine.”
“The grass is always greener,” she injected.
He nodded. “I wanted that land with a passion that should have been spent on my wife and children. I took every job I could find, but it was never enough. And I had little time for my family. Obsessed, I was.”
“It’s not uncommon,” she told him. “The downfall of many men.”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t see that at the time. I got the idea to join the Roman Army, which was offering a great number of coins to those who could serve in higher-ranking positions. I had some experience with Hebrew fighting in the region.”
“Really? I thought the Romans were the enemies of the Jews then.”
“They were. But I did not intend to join the Roman armies fighting Hebrews or Christians. There were other Roman soldiers building a wall in the Celtic land across the waters. Which is Britain today.”
“I’ve seen remnants of that wall,” she was excited to tell him. “Just think, you helped build that. Amazing!”
&nbs
p; He shrugged, as if it was no big deal. “My family tried to dissuade me from what they termed my ‘madness.’ Especially my brother-in-law Benjamin, who tried to tell me of the atrocities being committed by the Romans, not nearby but in distant cities and villages. I discounted Benjamin’s ravings because he was known to be a hothead rebel, always in trouble.”
“And so you went.” It was not a question.
“I did. For two years. And I returned to my little vineyard, my pocket full of bloody lucre, full of pride in myself. Now I could buy the additional land. Now I could devote more time to my family. Everyone would be so happy.” His voice choked on those last words, and he bowed his head.
She put a hand on his arm. “You don’t have to go on.”
He raised his head and his grief was hard to look at. Soul deep. In his sad eyes and in the slight furrows between his brows and beside his mouth. He cleared his throat and went on. “My vineyard and home were burned to the ground, as were all the neighboring properties. There was no one around. I went mad for a while, tearing at my hair . . .” He put a hand to his bristly head for emphasis. “Pounding the earth . . .” He pounded the island’s granite top with a fist and caused a roomful of vangels to look his way, then return to watching the ball game. “Screaming to the heavens.”
He paused, then continued, “Finally, an elderly man came out of hiding and told me what had happened. Benjamin and his band of rebels had been harassing the soldiers in the distant city. Incensed, the soldiers came into that region, which had seemed safe for so many years, searching for the rebels. They found them, and took out their anger on everyone else for miles around.”
“They were all killed? Your family?”
He shook his head. “That would have been kinder, but, no, they escaped to Masada where they eventually died of starvation, then were set afire. The Romans besieged them in that setting, you see.”
