by Will Hill
Jamie had been embarrassed to discover that he had been commissioned as a Lieutenant, rather than as an Operator like the two girls, and that he was technically their immediate superior, but neither Kate nor Larissa had appeared anything other than delighted for him. He had loved them both for that, and had gone out of his way to ensure that beyond his being the first call sign that was announced when they entered or left the Loop, there would be no differences between them, no hierarchy to be adhered to. They had gone out together, night after night, to every corner of the country, responding to intercepted Echelon messages, or information supplied by the Intelligence Division; they had fought and survived, time and again, and they had done it together.
They all knew that Jamie, as a Lieutenant, was sometimes privy to information that he was unable to share with his two friends; it was an unspoken thing, made bearable by the fact that it was obvious to both Kate and Larissa that Jamie hated the situation even more than they did. That Kate would keep something like her and Shaun from him hurt Jamie deeply, mainly because he could now clearly imagine how Kate would have felt if she had ever found out about him and Larissa.
At least she doesn’t know about that. That’s something.
Part of him, the childish, vicious part that he was always disappointed by, wanted to tell Kate right now, while she was at her lowest point, when it would hurt her the most. But he fought back the urge. He was still staring at the wall above Shaun Turner’s head, wondering how things had become so complicated, when the pilot announced that they were beginning their descent to the Loop.
The helicopter’s wheels screeched down on to the tarmac, and Shaun Turner hauled the door open while it was still slowing to a halt. Then he was reaching for Kate, the look in his eyes daring Larissa to try to stop him a second time. The vampire girl’s eyes flared red, but she relaxed her grip on Kate’s arm, and let Shaun help her down from the chopper’s open door. Kate winced as she moved, a fresh trickle of blood running from beneath the dressing on her arm. Then she was surrounded by men in white coats, who lifted her gently on to a stretcher and ran her into the hangar and out of view.
Jamie and the rest of the combined Operational Squad stepped down from the helicopter and stood beside Shaun Turner, watching the doctors disappear.
“She’ll be all right,” said Larissa, floating a couple of centimetres above the tarmac of the runway. “We got her back here in time.”
“I know,” said Shaun Turner, quietly. “I just—”
“She wasn’t talking to you,” Jamie growled, and saw Jack Williams recoil out of the corner of his eye. “She was talking to me. Kate’s a member of my squad. She’s nothing to do with you.”
Jamie was absolutely sure that wasn’t the case, but he wasn’t trying for the truth; he was trying to provoke Shaun Turner, and the look in the Operator’s eyes told him he had succeeded.
“Maybe you don’t know everything,” replied Turner, his eyes narrow, his voice like ice. “Did you ever think of that?”
“Maybe I know more than you think,” replied Jamie. “I know that you destroyed our only way of finding out where that boatload of prisoners was being taken, which means we lost what might have been our only lead to find Dracula, for no reason. I know that you disobeyed your squad leader’s direct order to make sure we got one of the vamps alive, again for no reason. I know that much for certain.”
“Yeah?” asked Turner, his voice rising in volume. He turned to face Jamie, who took half a step forward; there was no way he was going to let Turner intimidate him. “That’s what you know?”
“That’s why I said it,” replied Jamie.
The two Operators stared at each other. They were not quite nose to nose, but the space between them was pregnant with the possibility of violence. Behind him, Jamie heard a low growl emerge from Larissa’s throat, as she readied herself for whatever was about to happen. Standing off to one side, Jack Williams watched in horror; he hadn’t the slightest idea of how he should respond to what was taking place before him, between a member of his squad and one of his closest friends. In the end, Jamie spared him the decision.
He casually turned away from Shaun Turner, as though the Security Officer’s son was no longer worthy of his attention, and found Larissa staring at him with her beautiful brown eyes, all traces of red gone from them. He gave her a smile, which she returned; a tight, narrow smile that had little humour in it, but a smile nonetheless. Jamie walked over to her, leaving Shaun fuming on the tarmac, and leant in close.
“Go inside,” he said, softly. “I’ll be in soon. I’m going to give everyone a few minutes to cool off. OK?”
She nodded, and walked calmly towards the hangar. He stood on the shadowy runway, and watched her go.
Jamie made his way into the hangar ten minutes later.
Far from having cleared, his head was spinning with everything the people around him wanted him to be. A friend, a leader, a boyfriend, a confidant, a senior member of Blacklight; it all seemed so irreconcilable, as though someone had deliberately constructed a scenario that would pull him in every direction at once.
As he walked into the hangar, the Duty Operator told him that Jack had taken his squad to the Ops Room for debriefing by the Security Officer, and that Jamie and Larissa were ordered to attend.
A debriefing by Shaun’s dad. Great. No prizes for guessing whose side he’s going to be on.
Jamie nodded at the Operator, and walked through the double doors and into Level 0’s main corridor. He strode quickly past the Ops Room and pressed the button beside one of the lift doors set into the wall. When the doors slid silently open, he stepped inside the car and hit the button marked C.
The lift slowed, then stopped. Jamie strode along the corridor until he reached the large double doors marked INFIRMARY, pushed them open and stepped inside.
Kate was lying in the first bed on the left.
Her eyes were closed, and two thick tubes had been inserted into her, one in each arm. Blood was running steadily out of one and disappearing inside a cylindrical metal cabinet; it was pouring, equally steadily, down the other and into her body, from a series of bags that had been hung on a drip stand beside the bed. She was connected to a large trolley full of steadily beeping machines, and Jamie felt cold fingers grab at his spine as he remembered the first time he had seen Matt Browning in this very same room.
The teenager had been hurt, much more seriously so than Kate, and the Blacklight doctors had induced a coma to try and prevent any damage to his brain. It had left him looking like a plastic doll; his skin had been so smooth and pale that he didn’t look real. It had been one of the most unsettling things Jamie had ever seen, made worse by the fact that Matt was the same age as him, and had almost died merely by the dubious virtue of being in exactly the wrong place at exactly the wrong time.
For a second, Kate had looked like Matt did.
But as he approached her bed, he saw that the similarities were superficial; the machines were the same, the rhythmic beeping was the same, but Kate still looked like herself. Her face was a little paler than usual, but it still had colour in it, and her brow was furrowed in what looked like a frown, even though she was asleep.
“Can I help you?”
The voice came from behind him, and Jamie turned towards it. A doctor was standing at the foot of the bed, holding a clipboard in his hand.
“Is she going to be all right?” asked Jamie. “I’m her squad leader.”
And her friend.
“She’s going to be fine,” replied the doctor. “We were able to begin transfusion before the turn even started. She’s going to need to rest here for twelve hours, then you can have her back, good as new.”
“Thank you,” said Jamie. “That’s good to hear.”
The doctor nodded, before walking away down the infirmary. Jamie pulled a chair up to the side of Kate’s bed, and lowered himself into it. Kate stirred, her shoulders rolling as she shifted position.
“Can you hea
r me?” Jamie asked, softly. “Kate?”
A smile spread across her face, but her eyes remained closed.
“Shaun?” she whispered. “Is that you?”
Jamie recoiled. He lurched up from the chair, and stumbled towards the door. Behind him, he heard Kate say Shaun’s name again, a mild tone of concern in her voice, but he didn’t look back. He shoved his way through the doors and almost collided with one of the Loop’s administrative staff, a young man in a dark grey suit and tie.
“Watch where the hell you’re going,” Jamie snarled, feeling savage satisfaction as the man took a step backwards, his eyes flickering nervously across Jamie’s uniform and body armour.
“Lieutenant Carpenter?” the man asked, his voice trembling.
Jamie saw the fear on the man’s face, and shame flooded through him.
Why are you taking it out on him, you bully? It’s not his fault.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m Lieutenant Carpenter. What can I do for you?”
“Major Turner sent me to find you, sir,” the man in the suit replied, his voice a little steadier. “You are ordered to the Ops Room for debriefing, sir.”
Jamie swore, then thanked the man, who backed away with a look of relief on his face. Jamie watched him go, then made his way back to the lift. He stood in the metal box as it ascended, trying to empty his head of everything, trying to find a neutral space before he faced Paul Turner’s inevitable wrath.
Jamie opened the Ops Room door, and instantly felt relief; Admiral Seward was standing at the lectern, with Paul Turner a respectful distance to the side. He knew the Security Officer would be eager to draw Jamie’s attention to the fact that he was late, for the second time today, but he also knew that he wouldn’t do it with the Director in the room. It would be disrespectful, and Paul Turner was nothing if not a believer in the chain of command.
He glanced around the room, and saw Larissa sitting with the members of Squad F-7. She looked at him as she entered, her expression tight with worry, presumably about Kate. Angela’s was more transparent; she regarded him with a wide, friendly smile, a direct counterpoint to the look of distaste that appeared on Shaun Turner’s face. Jack Williams gave him a grin, as he took the seat next to Larissa.
“Lieutenant Carpenter,” said Admiral Seward, and Jamie felt all the eyes in the room turn to him.
“Yes, sir,” he replied.
“How’s Operator Randall?” asked Seward. “I presume you were checking on her?”
Thank you, sir.
“Yes, sir,” Jamie replied. “She’s going to be fine, sir. The transfusion is almost complete, and they’re predicting twelve hours for a full recovery.”
He heard the small sound he had been expecting escape from Larissa’s throat. He knew it would be a mixture of two emotions: relief that Kate was going to be fine, and sorrow that Jamie had gone to the infirmary without her.
“That’s good news,” said Seward. “Very good news. As is the fact that all two hundred and twenty-seven of the ship’s prisoners are now recuperating in hospital in Newcastle, with none of their injuries classed as life-threatening. Sadly, that’s where the good news ends. The first priority of this mission was to ascertain exactly where the prisoners were going to be taken. Who feels like giving me the coordinates?” The Director peered at the five Operators. “Anyone? No? Am I to assume that you’ve all come down with a crippling case of shyness, or that you COMPLETELY FAILED IN YOUR PRIMARY OBJECTIVE?”
“Sir, we—” began Jack Williams.
“Quiet!” roared Seward. “Operators, these are perilous times. We are ninety days from Zero Hour. If those prisoners were intended to aid Dracula’s recuperation then I’d rather he had drained each and every one of them if it meant we knew where he and Valeri were. Do I make myself clear?” The Operators nodded as one. “Terrific,” continued Seward, the fury suddenly gone from his voice and replaced by a deep weariness. “I’ve asked PBS6 in Beijing to investigate this from their end, but I’m not going to be holding my breath. In the meantime, I’m standing both of your squads down for eighteen hours. Unless the Loop is attacked or the vampires declare war on all of humanity, you can consider yourself off-duty till then. Dismissed.”
Five sets of chair legs screeched across the floor of the Ops Room as the Operators hauled themselves to their feet. Major Turner shot Jamie a look that made it very clear they weren’t done, but Jamie ignored him; he wanted to get away from everyone apart from Larissa, wanted to take her to his quarters, tell her about Kate and Shaun, and try to find a way to fix what appeared to be collapsing beneath them all.
They walked down the corridor, and piled into the lift when it arrived. Jack and Angela were heading to the mess for a drink before they turned in, and Shaun Turner was going to his quarters on Level D, so Jamie and Larissa were first to exit the lift.
“I have to tell you something,” Jamie said, as soon as they were alone in the Level B corridor. “You’re not going to believe it. It’s about Kate and Shaun Turner. I saw—”
“Where were you this morning, Jamie?” interrupted Larissa, her eyes narrow.
“What?” asked Jamie, frowning. “I’m trying to tell you something here.”
“I don’t want to talk about Kate right now. I want to know why you were late to the briefing this morning.”
Jamie paused. “I can’t tell you,” he said, slowly. “It’s classified.”
“And aren’t you just super pleased about that?” said Larissa, her smile curling into a snarl. “Isn’t the descendant of the founders just so happy that he gets to know things that we mere mortals don’t, gets to run off to the infirmary to check one of his squad without taking the other one with him. What a hero you are.”
“What the hell’s going on here?” asked Jamie, his temper rising. “Why are you so angry?”
“I’m not, Jamie,” she sighed. “It’s just a relief for me to know what your priorities are. The Department. Then Kate. And then is it me? Or am I further down the list?”
Jamie stared at her, incredulous. The attack had come from seemingly nowhere, and his head was spinning. He opened his mouth to answer her, but Larissa turned away from him and flew quickly along the long corridor.
16
ALWAYS AND FOREVER
TELEORMAN FOREST, NEAR BUCHAREST, WALLACHIA 13TH DECEMBER 1476
The creature that had, until recently, been Vlad Tepes stood silently in the dark forest and watched the bodies of his army burn.
The roaring pyre of Wallachian soldiers rose in the middle of the battlefield, some distance from where he was standing, but Vlad found that he could see every detail, as though his eyes had been replaced with those of an eagle. The metal of the soldiers’ armour was glowing white-hot as the flames rose around the bodies, and he could hear the crackle of roasting skin with ears that were now unnaturally sharp.
He felt grief for his fallen men, but no guilt; they had died in the heat and fury of battle, died for their Prince and for their country, and there was no more honourable way to depart this earth. The guilt he was feeling, in the furthest corner of his heart, was reserved for three men, who had deserved better than to be abandoned by their master when it became clear the battle could no longer be won.
Three men only.
The three men he had returned to the battlefield to look for.
Although he tried, straining his new hearing until his head began to thud with pain, he could not hear them. The air of the battlefield still rang with the screams and moans of dying men; occasionally a high-pitched shriek would pierce the cool night air as a Turkish soldier put an injured man out of his misery with the blade of his scimitar. Yet in the distance, how far away he could not accurately estimate, were Wallachian voices, full of fear but alive, and he knew that these were the fleeing remnants of his army.
Vlad listened closely, searching the tumult of noise for any suggestion that the Turks had sent men after them, but heard nothing. Three parties of the enemy were still scour
ing the woods for Vlad himself, or his body at least, and the bulk of the victorious army were either celebrating or helping to move their caravan of tents and carts down on the field itself, where it could be pitched within sight of the fires. The survivors, it appeared, were being allowed to flee. Vlad raised himself slowly into the air, and set off towards them.
The first vampire floated through the warm, still air at the edge of the woods, marvelling at the sensation. It was not weightlessness; his body still had mass, and he could move his limbs as normal. It was as though the air around him had somehow thickened, as though his body’s relationship with it had changed; he could push against it, like he could the solid ground that usually lay beneath his feet. Vlad flexed his new muscles, or altered muscles, or whatever he now possessed instead, and accelerated in the direction of the distant voices. He had floated no more than five or six feet when a hand wrapped itself tightly round his ankle and hauled him to the ground.
Vlad sprawled on to the cool grass. Anger, hot and wide, burst through him; he turned to see who had dared to touch his person, pushing himself up on to his knees as he did so.
Lying in the deep shadows at the edge of the forest was a Wallachian soldier. His face was pale, flecked heavily with drying blood, but his eyes were clear and staring. They regarded Vlad without fear; they appeared to be full of a dreadful resignation. With one hand, the soldier was gripping his Prince’s ankle; with the other, he was holding his intestines inside his body. A vast, gaping slit had been sliced across his belly, and glistening purple ropes bulged round the man’s hand, pulsing and shifting. Vlad’s expression did not change as he observed the man’s injuries; he had ordered horrors inflicted upon men and women that were a thousand times worse than disembowelment. But he felt pride, as he looked down at the soldier.
Such courage, he thought. His insides are escaping, but still he lives.
The soldier whispered something that even Vlad’s newly powerful ears could not detect. He lowered his face down beside the man’s, and encouraged him to repeat his words. The soldier took a deep, rattling breath, and Vlad moved even closer.
