by Jeff Schanz
“I told him you were taking me to get things I needed, like medical equipment and books. I’ll try to hide my mind from him, but…” She glanced at the packages in her hands. “He’ll eventually know.”
“Uh huh. We’re so dead. Your father won’t let me near you to even try this courting stuff.”
She pinched up her shoulders. “He already approved of you. I was the one who refused at first.”
Brandt furrowed his brows. “I’m not sure how to take that.”
She shook her head. “Only at first. It was always my choice. And I choose you. So, put your boat away and come join me at the house. You can spare one more night.”
He hoped so. “But how…?”
The boat started drifting back.
“We will figure something out.” She looked at her packages. “I am anxious to try out the records you bought me. I will see you up there.”
Brandt once again parked the boat in the lagoon. For the last time. His stomach was churning, not ready to face reality yet. But he was a soldier and he knew how to “get a grip” on demand.
He secured the boat, checked the weapons bags, and checked the remainder of the weapons on shore. Those would be brought up to the house in case Lia needed them. He was beginning to have crazy ideas like sailing Lia back to Catalina and leasing some little place for a few months until this Russian thing blew over. She’d be safe, and he could get to her easier. It would almost be like a real marriage, and he would just be the traveling husband.
You really want to be married? The idea of marriage had always been a bad joke, and he was surprised that it no longer was. But he had never imagined anyone like Lia. If he was honest with himself, he was probably in love with her from day one. When he first saw her fangs, he was upset that his fantasy of being with her might be over. Not because he didn’t want her, but because he wasn’t allowed to. You can’t be in love with a monster. But there were no monsters on this island. He was the closest thing. The real monsters were the men who wanted to kill him, not someone sweet like Lia. He didn’t feel like he was worthy of anyone, and his life wasn’t his to decide, anyway. Yet now he felt his life had been given to this wonderful woman, and he wanted her to have it. His war against The Russian was an excuse. It had been self-punishment for being alive, and it made for a risky life. So? Plenty of men risked their lives every day in the military, law enforcement, fire departments, FBI, CIA, whatever, and they led happy lives and had loving families.
Family. He could have a family. There could be little Dekker toddlers running around… whoa, dude. One thing at a time. Kids would be a gigantic complication, not because Brandt didn't want them, but what if they were born vampyres? Lia would have to tell him whether that was even an option to consider. He'd trust her judgment whether it was a pipe dream or something they could really do. Maybe a human and a vampyre would make normal kids. Holy shit, bud. Marriage? Family? You’ve jumped all the way there? He smiled. He’d do whatever Lia wanted. If he lived as a human concubine the rest of his days, he’d die happy. And exhausted. Viagra. Put Viagra and vitamin E on the shopping list for the next trip back.
Brandt looked at his little camp and the pile of old sails he had slept on. God, what an idiot I was. I wasted so much time. He considered just trashing it right then, then decided he could do that later. Whatever time he had left with Lia he wanted to take advantage of.
Something caught his eye on the ground. A footprint. There were plenty of his own sneaker prints all over the lagoon’s shore, but this wasn’t a sneaker, and it wasn’t Lia’s little foot, either. It was a boot print. A big one.
Brandt’s heart was in his throat. He moved toward his secret exit and saw more boot prints. Different sized boots.
Oh, God. They’re here.
Brandt clutched his weapons bag and ran to the exit.
CHAPTER 29
Brandt kept low between the mountainside and the tool shed, coming up behind the barn. Since that was Lia’s first destination, he was hoping he could catch her there. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw her kneeling below a stall barrier.
“Oh, thank God,” he said.
She hugged him as he knelt down next to her. Her eyes were wet, holding back tears. She already knows.
“Ok, listen. They only want me, so I’ll…” he started.
She grasped his arm and shook her head sharply. “It’s not them.”
“Not them? What?!”
She swallowed and took a deep breath before she said, “It is Mikhail.”
Brandt swallowed too. He could barely comprehend what he was hearing. His befuddled mind was trying to catch up. The bad guys he was fearing, the ones with automatic weapons and a desire to kill him were not here. And instead…
“The vampyre who killed your mother and everyone in your family? That guy is here?” Brandt had no idea how he should react. Every plan in his mind had been for something completely different.
“I can hear father’s mind. He… They have him, Brandt. Have his real body. They are keeping him weak and awake so he cannot project, and his real body is not strong enough to fight them. I don’t know what to do.”
Shit. “It’ll be ok, sweetie. Give me a second. Let me think.”
He thought while Lia hugged herself and rocked back and forth.
“Do you know how many there are? And where are they?” he asked.
She shook her head. “But I will find out.” She closed her eyes, concentrated for a moment, and then opened her eyes again. “I think there are four men in the room with him besides Mikhail. They are in the living room. He believes there is another man outside. They all have rifles.”
“Ok. I can work with that.”
Brandt wasn’t exactly happy with the idea that an ancient Undead vampyre had a bunch of gun-toting cronies in Lia’s house, but the likelihood that there were only five was better than he had feared. There might be a sentry somewhere too, so it would be a good idea to find that out.
“Listen, sweetheart, I’m going to scout for a minute. You stay here. Stay hidden. I’ll be right back.”
“Brandt? He will take all my blood and either make me undead or just destroy me. I will let him do neither. I would rather destroy myself first.” She was still frightened, but determined.
“Hey,” he said. “We’ll get through this.”
He kissed her forehead and she touched her hand to his face.
Keeping low, he exited the barn, crept around the backside, and weaved through the brush that lined the mountain edge. A few of the sheep were wandering around in their pen, so Brandt used their movement to disguise his own. He went flat to the ground and slunk next to the fence until he could see the back of the house.
One of the men was outside. He was struggling to stuff a parachute back in a bag. It made sense to come by air if they were trying to catch Viktor and Lia off guard, expecting, instead, the assault by the sea. But of course, the assassins' real target wasn't home when they arrived, so the deception might have been for naught. Brandt watched as the man finished what he was doing. The man was hunched over and had his back to Brandt, then finally turned around. Brandt froze. Not because he thought he had been seen, but because of what he saw.
The man had a black scarf wrapped around his face.
No. It can’t be.
Brandt’s brain spun like a Frisbee in his skull. Images flickered in his memory of the men in the black scarves that killed and mutilated everyone in his squad. As he stared at the black-scarved man, he tried to deny what he was seeing, yet his mind was already making the connections. Not only was it not crazy, it might have been obvious and he had been too preoccupied to see it.
Holy fucking shit.
Mikhail was The Russian. The Russian was Mikhail. Lia’s mortal enemy was the same guy Brandt had been trying to destroy all this time. The opium emperor of the world was a vampyre, and he and his cronies were trying to kill Lia, her father, and Brandt all at once.
<
br /> Brandt took slow, deep breaths trying to come to grips. Focus. The bad guys you thought would come are the ones who did come. Your plans haven’t changed. Except that the asshole you need to kill may be undead already.
The man who had folded up his parachute went into the house via the back door. Brandt nodded to himself. Five inside now. He assumed there could be a guy or two somewhere else, scouting the perimeter. But they couldn’t see him or Lia wherever they were, or the alarm would’ve been raised and boots would be scrambling.
He carefully made his way back to Lia and told her everything.
Her eyes were like an anime’ character, large and limpid.
“What do we do?” she said, her voice quivering.
Brandt held her for a moment. “Honey, listen carefully. I have a new plan. I’m going to ask you to do something dangerous and you may not like it.”
Her panicked face hardened a little. “Everything has been dangerous my entire life. Tell me.”
He sighed and told her.
Brandt walked up to the front door expecting to be fired upon, accosted, or at least yelled at, but nothing greeted him. That definitely meant this was a trap. But that was ok. He had a trap of his own.
He opened the door, his rifle slung casually across his chest. He scanned the room and saw what he was expecting to see. Five men in black headscarves surrounded the dining table alongside the same man Brandt had seen exiting the helicopter in Pakistan. Mikhail, aka The Russian, was leaning against the table, at the end nearest the kitchen. Viktor was seated in his chair at the head of the table. One of the henchmen had a rifle barrel poked into Viktor's chin. Viktor was alive but weak and only semi-conscious like Lia had described.
Brandt assumed that Mikhail had the same mind-reading abilities that Viktor and Lia had, probably knew that Lia was here, and probably knew Brandt was, too, before he walked in the door. They weren't the least bit surprised when he did. So Brandt would've fooled no one trying to accomplish some sneaky approach. They would've anticipated any ambush he tried. Well, he did have an ambush in mind, although he was going to hide it in plain sight. And it would be near impossible to pull off. But he had been running on impossible fuel for a while, so far. Why stop using it now?
Brandt sauntered in, his rifle relaxed, and walked toward Mikhail. The man had long black hair and a shiny, silk suit that looked like it was custom made at a snobby European boutique. Mikhail stood up, plainly unsurprised by Brandt’s entrance. He had to have sensed it. One of the henchmen lifted his rifle but Mikhail held up a hand.
“Mr. Dekker!” he called in a welcoming voice. “You are like a bad penny.”
“And you’re like a pimple in my asshole.” Brandt grinned like he was holding dynamite. When in doubt, do the unexpected. Brandt continued, “I tried to talk with you days ago, but the dickheads you hired tried to kill me. Well, they’re shark food now. But I’m still willing to talk.”
Mikhail tilted his head. He was obviously not expecting this bravado from Brandt.
Brandt walked up to the side of the table farthest from Viktor. He didn’t want to give himself away by trying to sneak a comforting look to Viktor, so Brandt ignored everyone, plunked himself into a chair and put his rifle on the table, sliding it five feet away, then propped his right foot on the tabletop.
Mikhail stood and paced slowly. “I went through a lot of trouble arranging to parachute these men over the island early this morning, but…” he gestured toward Brandt, “Obviously, no one was home except for Viktor. Poor Viktor, all by himself, abandoned by his lovely daughter to go traipsing off with you. Does Natalia know what kind of man you are? The things you did to my men in Pakistan?”
Actually, she does. Brandt stayed quiet, however, and kept his amused expression.
Mikhail continued, “Well, no matter. When I heard that poor Viktor was alone here, I couldn’t resist the chance to come myself and keep him company. We go back a long way, Viktor and I. I almost feel like a part of his family, since – well, since they are all dead and their blood has kept me young all these years. It’s a shame they had to die, but who can argue with the result.” He spread his arms wide to showcase his strong, young body.
Brandt kept quiet, letting Mikhail posture. Narcissistic despots hate when their audiences don’t seem to care.
Despite Mikhail’s effort not to show his impatience with Brandt’s implacability, it wasn’t too hard to see the hint of frustration. Mikhail sighed and dropped his hands.
“Ah yes, the strong, silent type,” said Mikhail. “Perhaps, I should get to the point? I am looking for our lovely Miss Natalia. I know she is here. Perhaps you would tell me her whereabouts?”
“What’s in it for me?”
“Well for one, I may not kill you. Maybe. For another, I will kill Viktor if she doesn’t come here to me. I know she has been listening in. I am quite aware of her connection with her father, and though I understand her hesitation, – it is inevitable on a small island that we will find her anyway, and if she simply comes to me, then I will spare her father. It’s really very simple.”
Brandt shrugged. As he did, he loosened the pistol in his waistband. He had thrown his rifle on the table to give the appearance of disarming himself. He was hoping they were all distracted by his blustery demeanor and show of tossing his rifle away, and wouldn’t bother to notice if he had a pistol tucked behind his back. He was banking on not.
Brandt had a bunch of lies planned to buy Lia some time, but since he knew Mikhail could probably sense his thoughts, he also knew he needed to keep his lies close to the truth in order for this to work.
“Look, I honestly don’t know where she is,” said Brandt. “And I don’t care. She refused to turn me into a vampyre. Hey, I want to live forever, but she won’t do it. I took her away to try to convince her, and she still said no. So I’m done with her for now. But, maybe later… I don’t know. Why do you want her?”
Mikhail looked annoyed, taking a moment to gather himself. His voice remained calm.
“Mr. Dekker, as much as I would like to see your entrails scattered across the ocean, I do admit a begrudging respect. And I can understand your desire. I, too, have been working towards immortality for over a century. In fact, I have essentially achieved what you are looking for. I have made an elixir that can multiply a human’s age five-fold, and provides the same strength and healing abilities that vampyres have. I assume you know all about vampyres now?”
“I’m boned up on it.”
“Well, these gentlemen here have all had their first round of trials, and have enjoyed the effects greatly. And it makes them excellent soldiers, as well, because they are stronger, very difficult to kill, and can repair most any kind of bodily damage. Perhaps you recall one of the experiments we did that you were unwittingly part of? In Pakistan? It's been half a year now, but you might still remember.”
Brandt’s mental mind camera did a crash-zoom flashback to images of he and Bony being subjected to injections and then torture. At the time, the methodical destruction of Bony’s body didn’t make any sense, but now…? Holy shit! That explains so much. The son of a bitch! Brandt held his simmering rage back. He was not going to be baited into doing something stupid and rash. Ok, stupider and rasher than what I’m already doing. He maintained his calm.
Mikhail continued. “As proud as I am of my accomplishment, I cannot say I’ve reached my goal. You see, it is different for me.”
“Because you’re undead.”
“Impressive knowledge. Yes, because I no longer have a living body. And unfortunately, the current version of my elixir has not changed that, nor allowed me to go out into the sun as these gentlemen can do. But I am very close to fixing this once and for all. And all I need is a little blood from our dear Natalia.”
“A little?”
Mikhail laughed a humorless laugh. “All of it, I’m afraid. Some for my elixir and the rest for my transfusion. But should she cooperate, I can pr
omise to leave her only undead like myself and Viktor. And perhaps she would still be worth something to you?”
Brandt took a moment to glance at Viktor. Viktor could’ve talked to Brandt in his head, but Mikhail would probably hear it, so Brandt was going to have to keep playing it by ear. He hoped Viktor didn’t believe any of the bullshit Brandt was spewing about Lia.
Mikhail noticed Brandt glance at Viktor. “Forgive our rudeness to our host, but we can’t have Viktor comfortably asleep and allow him to project himself here with us. I think you have seen that Viktor is quite a beast when he wishes to be.”
Mikhail slid the box of cigars to himself that Viktor had offered to Brandt a few nights ago. Viktor had never finished his cigar regardless of how many times he may have lit it. Smoking doesn’t work when you have no functional lungs. Mikhail picked up Viktor’s partially used cigar, crushed it, and tossed it behind him. He unwrapped a fresh one. Brandt was curious why Mikhail was interested in smoking if he had no functioning lungs, either. Mikhail lit the cigar with a lighter from one of the henchmen, then held the cigar at arm’s length and examined it.
“A fine brand. Cuban, before the little problem of communism shut the doors on that island. Too bad.” He placed the cigar in his mouth. He did nothing else to it. “Yes, too bad,” he said again and took the cigar away. “I would very much like to actually smoke this, but I believe you know my difficulty with that.”
“Gotta suck.”
“Indeed. But little Natalia could change that circumstance for me. And all it will cost is her boring life. Oh, don’t think of me as a monster. She will just be undead. Much of the same things she likes, she will continue to do. All she does is read, anyway. It really won’t be that bad for her.”
Except you’ve desperately been trying for a century to not be undead anymore, yourself, you lying sack of shit. She will literally be a shell of herself. And she’d rather be truly dead. Brandt tried to push away those thoughts. They were fleeting and he hoped Mikhail didn’t sense them.
