And to Cherish: Vampire Assassin League #23

by Jackie Ivie

  “Ha. Ha. Laugh. And watch a master.”

  “Okay, Eric. Tell me, at least. I’m listening.”

  Sam glanced at the speaker. It was a thick-set blond kid. Looked like he should be playing nose tackle for some college, not hanging out in camouflage trying to look menacing.

  “We just got notified. Got a big shot coming. Big. He’s fetching our prisoner. Apparently, it’s time to move onto the baiting phase, and they want to handle it.”

  “And you took that to mean we’re moving up? Are you nuts? They’re relieving us of responsibility.”

  That was another fellow. Wiry. Dark-haired. With a scar across his neck that looked as if someone had tried to decapitate him or something.

  “What big guy?” somebody else interjected. The speaker had brown-hair. Medium build. Bent nose. Pretty nondescript features without the broken nose. Looked like he should be studying agriculture. Or dentistry.

  “Are you talking about the man, himself? Chester Beethan?”

  “Nah. Better. He’s sending his oldest. His heir. Some kid named Paul Henry.”

  “And you took that to mean something? Shit. That’s it. You have shit for brains. He’s coming to reprimand us, and you’re crowing. If it wasn’t for you, he’d be coming to give us all commendations and pair patches.”

  “You guys are never thinking ahead. That’s why you’re going to be stuck in back-water places while I’m going up. Way up, if you catch my drift. And not one of you is interested in how?”

  “Explain already. I’m all ears.”

  Nose Tackle spoke up. The others either nodded or looked skeptical.

  “All right, then. Listen up. Chester Beethan is the head of our organization, true. But he’s also a billionaire. Something about cotton milling. I don’t know the specifics. Don’t care. He’s one of Britain’s wealthiest citizens. And he hobnobs with all kinds of wealthy and influential people. That’s what I care about.”

  “Okay. So?”

  “I’ve never met Chester, but I’ve seen pictures. He’s always got these same guys around him. Every time. They’re all about fifty. His age. Anybody ever notice that?”

  There was silence while they mulled it. Sam already had Eric’s reasoning figured out, but it was amusing to check the others while they pondered. Nose Tackle was really having trouble. His face was scrunched up.

  “These guys are the top echelon of the Hunter Organization. They’re from all over the world. All nationalities. They probably make a lot of money. Get tons of bonuses. Rub shoulders with other billionaires. And that got me to thinking. How did they get so close to Chester in the first place?”

  “I don’t know, how?”

  Nose Tackle spoke again. Nobody else offered up.

  “Oh. Come on. Think. They’ve been around him for years. And why? Because he chose them when he was young. Got it?”

  “Hmm. Maybe.”

  “No doubt about it. I checked old photos. Same guys are always around him. Trust me.”

  “So what does this have to do with us?”

  “You guys are so dim. Geez. Us. Can’t you see?”

  Several shook heads. Sam’s snicker got lost in another hiccup, making it louder than the usual.

  “The Beethan heir is coming. Here. To a back-water camp on the border between Canada and the United States. This is the guy who will be running things in a few years. Think about it! He’s young. I think maybe...twenty? He has guards around him. I bet his father picked them out. He’s going to want to replace them as he gets more control. I would. So, along that vein of thinking, I’m thinking every contact I can make with this kid is a potential job interview. And Dancer Boy, there, is going to help us. Well. He doesn’t look too bad. Maybe we should roughen-him up a bit before they get here.”

  Dancer Boy?

  “What?”

  Three of them said it. Sam hiccupped again, adding to the effect.

  “Nah. You’re right. This Paul Henry is pure Brit. I checked out his profile. He’s in college. He’s uber-rich. He’d probably snobby as hell. If we’d worked Dancer Boy over, it would be a black mark.”

  “What’s with calling him Dancer Boy?”

  “On, come on. Look at him. He’s pretty buff. He’s wearing nothing but pants and shirt cuffs. And then, there’s that hair. Maybe we should cut it off. Like Delilah did to her Samson. What do you guys think?”

  Sam gave them his baleful look. It wasn’t difficult. He felt those emotions exactly. Vindictive. Malevolent. Sinister.

  Eric sniggered.

  “Oh well. We probably don’t have enough time. We have to get ready to impress a snobby Brit. Who’s with me?”

  Eric left. Everyone followed him out.

  Including the guard.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  She could sense her mate. Samson Reid. Feel him. Each heart beat grew in strength and power with every moment that passed. Her breath caught more than once. She ignored the team sitting in the stretch, 4x4 SUV with her. And their debate. Cherish nibbled on her lower lip. Slid her fingers along her dagger hilt. Concentrated. Until she could almost see him.

  “Well. You decide yet, Nigel?”

  “What’s the situation?”

  “We’re almost there. I’m getting a reading. Finally. Slow it down, Daniel. Okay. Looks like...thermal imaging is giving us thirty-six warm bodies.”

  “Thir...ty-six?” Nigel queried. His voice had a slight stutter midway.

  “Sounds like pretty good odds to me,” Darryl replied.

  “Against five?”

  “Five? You. Me. Reika. Garrick. Stan. Ivan. Cherish. You need to update your counting skills, Kid.”

  “I forgot about the humans up front. All right. Seven.”

  “Well. We can bring Daniel, too, but he should stay with the car. So. That makes us seven.”

  “Against thirty-six?”

  “Thirty-five. I’m pretty sure Cherish’s mate isn’t going to side with them.”

  “I don’t know...”

  “It’s an easy choice, Kid. We can leave it status quo. Or we can leave thirty-five cold bodies and nobody the wiser.”

  “Geez. Why did Akron have to bring up maturity, anyway?”

  “Maturity? And you? Don’t make me laugh.”

  Something had changed. Samson’s heart rate had gone up. Cherish leaned closer to the window. Put her forehead against the glass. Opened her senses. Closed her eyes. Barely heard the conversation still taking place around her.

  “Come on, Nigel. They’re sitting ducks. They won’t know what hit them. We waltz in. Achieve our objective. Systematically annihilate on the way out. No trace. Few clues. They may never figure it out.”

  “You really think we could take them?”

  “Are you kidding? You’ve got a crack assassin team. Right here. Ready to follow your lead. We’ve got tranquilizer darts. Guns. Blades. Crossbows. And Garrick is armed with napalm, not water. They won’t know what hit them.”

  “Oh, wow. Wow. You know...um. This would be just like Grim Level on the VIDWAR game.”

  “Only this would be real.”

  “I don’t know...I have to think. You guys concur? All of you?”

  The others all chimed in agreement. Nobody noticed Cherish concentrating.

  Samson...

  “I don’t know. Just let me think, okay? Unnecessary bloodshed. A massacre out of the blue. What will we really accomplish?”

  “Thirty-five less vampire killers,” Reika spoke up.

  “True. But listen. Say we go in there. Get Cherish’s mate. Walk back out. Disappear. Nobody will know how or what or who. They have no proof of anything. They won’t be trusted with much after that. Or believed, either. Won’t that be the coolest thing ever?”

  “So. That’s the call? We go with the original plan?” Stan spoke up from the front seat.

  “Yeah. But...hey. How about we keep a little flexibility in our plan,” Nigel said.

  “How flexible?”

  “You know. If we
get discovered. Or they start something. Well. We are a covert killing team. That will be Plan B.”

  “Works for me. I think I speak for everyone?”

  Murmurs of agreement followed that remark. Darryl continued. “All right. Von Holstaad has the plan. Garrick?”

  “We go in as a cohesive unit. Humans in front. Ivan and Stanislaw. In case they have a video check-point. This is an old base. I don’t know. Nigel? I mean, Paul Henry? You’ll be next. Flanked by Reika and Cherish.”

  “Now, we’re talking. That’s exactly what a young guy would do. Put a hot blonde chick on each side.”

  “Oh. Brother. You never change. Moving on. Darryl and I bring up the rear. So, Cherish. You’ve been silent. Is he in there?”

  “Yes,” she replied. Now that Nigel had mentioned her wig, it started itching. She squelched the urge to scratch.

  “And...you can find him?”

  “Yes.”

  “Keep close to Nigel for the most part, okay? It’s a long shot, but somebody might recognize you.”

  “Recognize her? They probably have posters of me on the walls.”

  “Well, Garrick. That’s why I’m wearing your old uniform. We’re the same size. We look like linebackers. Funny. I guess that’s what we are. Literally. Here’s the gate. Ready? Game on, everyone.”

  The vehicle stopped. Daniel rolled down his window. Somebody put a light on him, illuminating the entire front seat, along with Ivan and Roger Stanislaw.

  “Evening.”

  “We’re expected,” Daniel replied.

  “You got a word to tell me first?”

  “Of course. Mummies.”

  “Good. So. Hey. You really have Paul Henry Beethan back there?”

  The light flashed into the back seating area. Cherish turned her head away and looked down.

  “Wow. You really are Paul Henry! I’d recognize you anywhere. You look just like your pictures! Exactly!”

  Nigel snorted. Cleared his throat. And then he answered, in a distinct British accent. “Actually...I look just like my grandfather. Maybe you’ve heard of him. Chap by the name of Nigel.”

  “Uh. No. Nigel, huh? Never heard of him.”

  “You gonna let us by now?” Daniel asked.

  “Oh. Yeah. Sure. Building in the center. You’re expected.”

  The vehicle moved. Darryl spoke first.

  “Nigel! What the hell are you doing? Do you want a massacre?”

  “I’m having fun. And my name is Paul Henry. I suggest you use it.”

  Darryl groaned. The vehicle stopped again. Everybody exited. Reassembled just as Garrick had instructed. Cherish stood next to Nigel with her eyes on the ground.

  “Is this the right building?” Nigel bent toward her to whisper.

  She nodded.

  “We need a signal, you and me. Maybe you should hold my arm and squeeze if they take us the wrong direction. Will that work?”

  The double doors opened wide, spilling light onto them. Cherish glanced up at the group of men approaching them. She immediately recognized the man who’d shot her. A reaction happened despite how she clamped onto her body. Her heart rate ramped even higher. Her breathing quickened. Her face flushed. Her palms grew damp. Her belly churned. All unfamiliar sensations. She hoped they weren’t fear.

  “You must be Paul Henry! Welcome to Camp Beyond!”

  “Camp...what?”

  Nigel responded, using perfect pronunciation and a fabulous British accent. And a bored tone. He was so good Cherish almost glanced sidelong to verify it was him.

  “Sorry. That’s what we call it. You spend enough time someplace you try to make it livable. Giving it a name helps. Um. My name is Eric Rand. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sir.”

  The guy stepped forward with his hand out. Stan and Ivan closed ranks, going shoulder-to-shoulder. Eric’s advance stopped.

  “At ease, gents. I don’t think that’s necessary. So. Eric, is it? I assume you got the messages?”

  “Oh yeah. We’ve been expecting you. Did you have a nice flight in?”

  “Eric. I’m here for the prisoner. Perhaps we could fetch him?”

  “Oh. Sure. Follow us.”

  Five of them started into the building. Nigel and his party followed. The passage was well lit. Clean. Two open doors they passed revealed rooms containing a number of Hunters, some sitting about. Others standing at attention. Everything was in pristine condition. Even their uniforms. The shine of their combat boots. Cherish got the sense that it was staged. They were posed. As if the entire place knew and was setting a trap. Ready to close in when they reached the center of this place. Her heart stuttered. Her belly twisted. Her muscles tightened.

  “You know, Paul Henry, it wasn’t easy to get this guy. It took split-second timing. And a lot of guts.”

  Cherish’s lips twisted at the lie. It relieved some of the tension.

  “Really?” Nigel responded.

  “Yeah. And he’s been a complete pain in the ass ever since. I don’t suppose you’ve heard?”

  “We’ve been online with you, Eric. The entire time. We know exactly what’s been happening.”

  “Ah. Then you know he still refuses to believe in us. Or our prey. We haven’t gotten much out of him. Still. We were going to try hypnotherapy when we found out you were coming.”

  “Yes. I believe I read that part, too.”

  “Well...maybe you didn’t read how difficult it’s been to control him.”

  Cherish’s back clenched. She stumbled. She tightened her fingers on Nigel’s arm for balance.

  “Are we going the right way?” Nigel asked aloud.

  Cherish caught Nigel’s eye. Nodded.

  “Of course. Um. Listen. We had to tie him up. He’s half-changed. He doesn’t believe that part of vampirism, either, but it makes him stronger than normal.”

  “How much farther, Eric?”

  “Not far. So. Hey, Paul Henry. I’ve been telling you all this because you might need some help transporting him.”

  “You believe the Hunters I brought with me aren’t sufficient? In your opinion?”

  “You need someone who’s been around this guy. Knows how he acts. And reacts. I’m telling you, he’s a complete pain.”

  “Oh. I think Bruno and Lars behind me are up to the challenge. Aren’t you, lads?”

  Garrick coughed. Darryl snickered.

  “You can always use another guy, though. And I have the fastest time in the obstacle course. For a human.”

  Eric stopped at a gray metal door. Indistinguishable from all the others they’d passed. Only this one had warmth behind it. Cherish blinked back sudden tears. Samson was close. So close! Her heart was beating in concert with his now, the echo almost inaudible. Nigel glanced at her. She nodded. He smiled.

  Eric turned around. “So. Maybe you’re looking for a few new guys? Young guys. You know. Easily trainable. Trust-worthy.”

  Nigel tipped his head slightly. “Eric. My s—uh, father is expecting me. With the prisoner. And my father does not like to be kept waiting.”

  “So? Paul Henry? If you ever need additional guards...you’ll think of us?”

  “Oh. Yes. I do believe I will.”

  Eric turned around. Fumbled with some keys. They heard the lock tumbler rotate. The door opened. Warmth and succor poured outward, enveloping her. Calming. Supporting. Cherish was hard-pressed not to rush forward. She waited while Eric and his group entered. She steadied her hold on Nigel.

  “Son of a bitch!”

  “The bastard!”

  “What the hell?”

  Curses and exclamations came from Eric and his men. Nigel’s team entered, fanning out to block the door. Every assassin had a weapon drawn. Cherish was no exception. She had her dagger out as she pushed forward, shoving between Ivan and Stanislaw’s shoulders. And all of it to view nothing. The room wasn’t large. But all it contained was a folding metal chair that was collapsed into a heap and covered with a lot of yellow nylon rope.

 
“Well. I see you didn’t overstate our man’s abilities,” Nigel intoned without any inflection.

  “He was just here! I swear. Honest to—! Wait! I know how to find him.”

  “Really?” Nigel asked.

  “He’s got the hiccups. Can’t stop them. We should be able to hear him.”

  “Cherish?” Nigel asked.

  “He’s here,” she answered.

  “Cherish? Did you just say Cherish?”

  Eric stared at her. His mouth fell open. It matched the width of his eyes as he recognized her.

  “It’s the vampire bit—!”

  He didn’t get the rest of the word out. A huge ceiling tile swung down, smacking into his head, breaking the tile and sending Eric into a wall. He bounced off. Slumped. A streak of blood evidenced where he’d been. Nobody was watching. The assassins all had a Hunter’s throat beneath their blades. While legs, and then all of Samson dropped from the ceiling; amid a shower of dust and debris and flying hair.

  A second later, Cherish was in his arms. Right in time to absorb his hiccup.

  “Okay. Everyone. Calm, please. Looks like we’ve found him.”

  “Oh, Samson.” Cherish wasn’t really listening to Nigel. She couldn’t. Samson was too precious. Too dear. And too real.

  “Incapacitate. But don’t kill. Tranquilizer darts. Got it?”

  “Who are you people?” someone asked.

  “The good guys. The vampires. Duh,” Nigel answered.

  “But you’re Paul Henry!” someone yelled that.

  “Exactly. Now, shut him up, will you?” Nigel continued.

  There was a thud behind her. Cherish didn’t look to see what was happening. Neither did Samson. He had his gaze locked to hers. And then his lips on hers. Nothing had ever felt so wondrous. Heavenly.

  “Everybody silenced? Good. Well. It looks like we have one casualty. A bunch of sleeping babies. And our objective has been acquired. Time to regroup. Yo! Cherish. Come on. Kiss him later, will you? I’m trying to lead here.”

  Samson’s hiccup broke the kiss. He lifted his head and looked over her head at the others. He didn’t release his hold on her. Cherish snuggled closer.

  “I’m going to guess you’re Doctor Samson Reid. Yes?”

  “I sure hope so,” someone said. Cherish didn’t recognize the voice. And she didn’t look away from her mate.