Crusader (MPRD Book 2)

by Andrew Chapman

  Everything from the ornate chair to the gold-inlaid copy of the Bible that you could play football on screamed that he was the Pope, and you were not.

  It was something of a shame, then, that the Pope himself was decidedly unimpressive. In fact a cursorily glance around the room had a better than fifty-fifty chance of not seeing him at all. He was almost lost in the grand chair, practically buried in his robes. I remember when the previous Pope, John Paul II had died. The vampiric situation had been fairly fresh and new, and the Vatican had been faced with a crisis. What was needed was a man of iron-hard faith, a man who embodied everything good about the church.

  What they got, fortunately for the rest of the world, was Cardinal Frances Loretti, now Pope Pius XIII. A short man, barely 5’7”, stocky, given to spontaneous acts of a gentle and kind nature, who smiled rather more than people were comfortable with in a Pope. He was also devastatingly intelligent, spoke four languages, and had won the gold medal for biathlon pursuit at the Winter Olympics before entering the priesthood.

  Don’t get me wrong, I dislike the Vatican, but I can’t think of a more suitable candidate for his position.

  “Holy Father,” said the Prefect. “May I present Jack Henderson, John and Anna Clarke, Marie Hennessey, and Cameron Baxter?”

  The Pope nodded, his eyes on me.

  “Ladies and Gentlemen, His Holiness Papa Pius Tredecimus,” said the Prefect, giving the Pope’s name in Latin.

  The Pope stood and held out his hand to me.

  “I believe this is your custom?” he said in heavily accented English.

  I raised my eyebrow as we shook hands and his face creased into a broad grin.

  “Oh come, now,” he said, the accent all but gone. “After all, I could have gone with ‘tell me more about this human thing called kissing’.”

  I couldn’t help it; I cracked a smile.

  “Very funny, sir,” I conceded.

  “The coming of the vampires has taught us that our differences are not so huge after all,” he said as he shook hands down the line.

  When he came to Cam, he looked up at the towering lupine face and grinned even wider.

  “Even our werewolf brothers and sisters are not so different,” he said. “But where is Mr. Hasaan?”

  “Bolt declined your invitation,” I said carefully.

  “Ah, well, maybe some barriers will take a little longer to come down, yes? Please, sit down. Become the first atheists to take tea with this Pope, yes?”

  I found myself liking this guy, despite the fact that his folksy, easygoing attitude was obviously a smokescreen.

  We sat down around a low table and the Prefect poured tea from a china teapot.

  “You,” said the Pope, waggling a finger at Anna, “are causing much theological discussion amongst the college of Cardinals.”

  “Me?” said Anna with a guilty start.

  “Indeed. A vampire fighting on the side of the humans? This is unprecedented, yes?”

  “In England,” she replied. “At least, as far as we know. There may be some agents in the North but, if so, the Ministry isn't telling me.”

  “There are those who believe it was the sacrament of marriage that saved you,” he said, nodding to John. “And that the grace of God keeps you on the side of the light. There are those, no small faction I'm afraid, who believe you are merely biding your time and you are no different from the other vampires. And there are those who believe you are merely an aberration, and no other vampire is like you.”

  “And where do you fall?” I asked.

  “I believe in love, Hauptmann Henderson,” he replied with a wink. “I believe in the love of a man and wife, in the love of friends, and in the love of our Lord. I believe that this love is responsible. I believe it is the strength of our love keeps us from straying, if we hold on strongly enough.”

  “Something we agree on,” I said. “Broadly, at least.”

  “Now,” said the Pope once the tea had been served. “To the reason for our request. To put it simply, we need your help. With two problems. I will speak to the second, and allow the Oberst to speak to the first.

  “As an atheist, I’m sure that you’ve often felt that your aims differ from those of the Catholic Church, that our definition of a good world and your definition of a good world are many miles apart, yes?”

  I nodded slowly.

  “But I think that, no matter how far apart, neither definition would include a world where the vampires rule and humanity is enslaved as little better then cattle, yes?”

  “No argument from me there, sir,” I said.

  “Splendid,” he said. “I ask, not out of form or to influence you, but merely to point out that our ends are aligned in this matter.”

  “Accepted,” I said, inclining my head.

  “Now, I have a personal request to make.”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Your government, we have been assured, will treat the information I am about to give you as a state secret. I ask that you agree to do the same.”

  I glanced at my team. Each nodded in turn, agreeing silently.

  “You have our word on that, sir.”

  “Thank you, thank you all.”

  The Prefect had returned bearing a large leather-bound book. At the Pope’s gesture he handed it to me.

  “That volume is a copy of a fifteenth century text. It is, itself, over a hundred years old.”

  I frowned as I opened the book. What was the point in this?

  The first page was filled with densely packed hand-written Latin text. The next few pages were the same. I don’t read Latin beyond a few phrases, so it was completely incomprehensible to me. The first picture, however, four or five pages in, was all too clear. It was a meticulous line drawing of a vampire skull, fangs and all.

  I leafed carefully through the crackling pages, seeing detailed drawings of vampire teeth, anatomical drawings of flayed vampire bodies, a crude map of Europe with various notations in red ink, and what appeared to be vampiric family trees.

  Fifteenth century? Fifteenth century?

  I looked up, stunned.

  “Yes,” said the small man in the Papal robes. “We’ve known about the vampires for a very long time.”

  CHAPTER

  8

  The book had been passed around my team, each greeting the sight with thunderstruck silence. Finally, a wry smile on his lips, the Pope spoke again.

  “That particular tome was written, we believe, by one of your ancestors. The genealogy is somewhat sketchy but we believe it is likely.”

  “One of my ancestors?” I said.

  “Indeed. The man had been the commander of the personal guard of one Vlad III of Wallachia.”

  “Vlad III?” I asked. “Vlad Dracul? Dracula? Oh come on. That’s ridiculous. Vlad the Impaler wasn’t a vampire, that’s just a legend started by…”

  I trailed off and sighed.

  “Indeed, said the Pope gently. “The vampires, I need not remind you, have been manipulating the body of vampiric lore for centuries.”

  “Silver,” I said morosely.

  “Again, correct. The vampiric legends say that silver is only good for killing werewolves, yet you have seen that it is equally effective at dealing with vampires. Also, wolfsbane. You might want to suggest that your Ministry looks into the properties of that particular plant.”

  “Wolfsbane?” I asked.

  “Werewolf catnip,” said Cameron. “It’s not harmful to us, but it does get us high.”

  “Some of the earliest stories,” said Anna, “say that wolfsbane is harmful to vampires, not werewolves.”

  I turned back to the two churchmen.

  “Thanks. But, you knew about the vampires and you didn’t tell anyone?”

  “You have to understand, in recent decades the vampires had become so good at concealing themselves that the book you hold became viewed as fiction, or as one old soldier’s attempt to rationalize all of the terrible things he did.”
r />   “Terrible things?”

  “Your ancestor protected the Impaler during the worst excesses of his life. We have another text, written at the same time by one Father Theodore. Theodore was more of a spiritual ancestor of yours, a member of the martial arm of the church, a true warrior-priest: a Catholic vampire hunter. It was Theodore who executed Vlad III in his own castle, with your blood ancestor’s aid.”

  “But once the vampires came out?” I persisted.

  “We did what we could,” said the Prefect. “Why do you think the Foreign Legion arrived with silver bullets when you were fighting in Europe?”

  I blinked, surprised. I hadn’t thought of that.

  “Frenchie once said to me that the strongest voice in support of disobeying orders was a Catholic chaplain attached to his Demi-Brigade,” I said, musing on the memory. “That was your doing?”

  The prefect glanced at the Pope, receiving a nod before continuing.

  “Yes, the priest was acting under orders from the Holy See.”

  “Then I owe you my thanks.”

  “It is not necessary.”

  “So what makes you think this person was Jack’s ancestor?” asked John.

  “Well, as I said, the genealogy is sketchy and merely suggestive, but the account of Father Theodore gives a tantalizing clue. The man who wrote that tome was, according to Theodore, completely immune to the vampire’s ability to control humans with their minds and that his blood was dangerous to them.”

  “Well, that sounds like you, Jack,” said Marie.

  “It’s not conclusive,” said the Prefect. “There are literally thousands of families out there with those traits. Our historians have found fragments within our oldest records that lead them to believe that such traits were once commonplace.”

  “What happened to them?” asked Anna.

  “The vampires hunted those who possessed those traits, those who, forgive me Mr. Henderson, were touched by God to be His instruments. With the Internet, and people all over the world entering genealogies online, it has become easier than ever to track down those who possess the abilities.”

  The Pope hesitated before continuing.

  “In fact, we believe that the reason the vampires chose to make the world aware of their presence when they did was because they had eliminated most of those who could stand against them. For years we have stood aghast at the growing violence around the world, the murders, the senseless deaths. Now we know the reason for them.”

  “So, what?” I asked. “Now you’re gonna tell me I’m the last of the vampire slayers, the chosen one, the last, best hope for humanity?”

  The Pope laughed for a moment, shaking his head.

  “No, you’re not the last, not by a long measure. There are probably several thousand across the world who share your abilities, but they are scattered, unaware, unconnected. Many are still young children or too old to fight, or are now in areas controlled by the vampires, and are hunted and afraid. If you are the protectors of humanity, there are less of you now than ever before.”

  He leaned forward, his eyes intent.

  “But you are out there. You are still fighting. There is hope. And there is one thing that the vampires did not anticipate. That the werewolves would stand with us against them.”

  Cam nodded, a broad smile on his face.

  “But now you must forgive me, for I have pressing duties to attend to. The Oberst will see you to your rooms and organize the next shock of your day.”

  He smiled and rose to his feet as we all did the same. He extended his hand to me and his face was suddenly serious. Like a mask falling away his joviality fled, revealing a face filled with great stress. I shook his hand, wondering what was troubling him so deeply.

  “Pagan, if you can, help us,” he said.

  Then he was gone, out a side door.

  The Prefect motioned us back out into the antechamber, then pulled the Oberst aside to talk in quiet, urgent tones

  Bolt opened the case he was carrying and we collected our weapons. I leaned in close to him and spoke softly.

  “Thanks Bolt.”

  “No problem, boss.”

  John caught the exchange and gave me a slightly wild look.

  “My team,” I whispered, eying the two figures on the other side of the room, “does not give up their weapons to anyone.”

  John nodded slowly. Bolt and I had set up the whole thing on the plane, just in case.

  “I should have known you had something up your sleeve, Jack.”

  The Oberst came over to us. He looked strained and stiff. Obviously I hadn’t been the only one to notice the Pope’s expression.

  “If you’ll follow me?” he said.

  He led us to an opulent suite of rooms, in a part of the Vatican usually reserved for visiting dignitaries from other countries.

  “I will go and check on the status of the briefing. Please, make yourselves comfortable. Your luggage and weapons cases are in the rooms and, should you need anything, simply pick up the telephone and dial the switchboard.”

  “Thank you, sir,” I replied.

  “I shall return shortly.”

  The room was spacious, comfortable and very tastefully decorated. The small pile of weapons cases and bags in the center of the thick carpet looked decidedly incongruous. Cam was nosing around, sticking his head around various doors and the rest of us went over to our luggage.

  “Hey, there’s bedrooms all over the place,” said Cam.

  “Cool,” I said, examining the cases.

  Each was still locked and the electronic seals were intact. Not that I was worried that the Swiss Guard might tamper with them but a soldier’s guns are his responsibility.

  “Okay, pick a room and get into something more comfortable,” I said, picking up my cases.

  Marie followed me into one of the rooms and closed the door. The bed was huge, with a big, thick mattress and looked to be slightly older than the Pyramids. The other furniture in the room looked like it had been carefully and reverentially polished every day since the discovery of fire, and the carpet was deep enough that if I dropped my pistol I’d need a metal detector to find it again.

  I dropped my cases on the floor and quickly stripped to my boxers. As I was scrabbling through my luggage Marie stroked her fingertips down my spine. I turned and she wrapped her arms around my shoulders.

  “Hi!” she said.

  “Hello to you too,” I replied.

  I bent down and kissed her.

  “See?” I said. “I told you, stick with me and I’ll show you the world.”

  CHAPTER

  9

  I finished buckling my gunbelt into place and transferred my SIG from my shoulder rig to the drop-leg holster. The case containing my MP7 opened to the correct code and it went on my other thigh. The FAL would be left locked in its case, for now. I was freshly showered and dressed in my olive green combats, black shirt, body armor, and boots.

  Marie was in a similar outfit, her P228 holstered on her thigh. That annoyed me. She used to have a beautiful P229, silver and gold, with a wolf’s head engraved on each of the black handgrips, but Lady Lucia, the most powerful vampire in the North of England, had stolen it. I’d vowed to get it back for her and if I had to kill Lucia to do it, so much the better.

  “Okay, I think we look pretty enough,” I said. “Let’s go see if our friends are ready.”

  “Sure you want to leave the big guns behind?” she asked.

  “Yep, sidearms only until we find out what’s going on. We’re here to help, not intimidate.”

  “Okay, you’re the boss,” she said.

  “I’m glad you remembered that,” I said.

  “Oh, the fact attends my every waking moment,” she said, her eyes wide and innocent.

  “Cheeky,” I said with a smile.

  “As ever.”

  “It’s a good job you’re so cute,” I said, pulling her close for another quick kiss. “Come on, let’s go.”

 
We went out the door to find that my team was, indeed, waiting for us. Everyone was dressed roughly the same way, not quite a uniform, but close.

  “Our friend come back yet?” I asked as I took a seat.

  “Nope,” said Bolt.

  “Okay, so we wait, I suppose,” I said. “And, Cam?”

  “Yes boss?”

  “Leave the jimpy behind, okay?”

  Cam gave me a contrived look of hurt innocence. He was, indeed, cradling his GPMG in his massive paws.

  “Aw, boss,” he protested.

  “Sidearms only.”

  “I could get a holster for it,” he said.

  I had no doubt about that. The belt-fed machine gun had been modified to suit the werewolf’s needs, but it was still a heavy piece of kit.

  “No, Cam. Leave it behind.”

  “Okay, boss.”

  He stumped off to place the weapon back in the case.

  “Nicely done, love,” said Marie in a quiet voice.

  I gave her an inquiring look.

  “He was challenging your authority,” she said. “I think he’s looking for weakness in your leadership.”

  “So what do I do?”

  “Just do what you’ve been doing. Don’t take any shit, keep on asserting your position. Remind him that you are alpha of this team and you lead by right.”

  “Can I trust him?” I asked, troubled.

  “Of course you can, love,” she smiled. “As long as you retain your authority he’ll obey the big commands without question and he’ll never really challenge you.”

  “Glad to hear it.”

  There was a knock and the door opened. A young man in the uniform of the Swiss Guard entered.