Crusader (MPRD Book 2)

by Andrew Chapman

  “My companions,” I said. “Marie Hennessey, my mate, and Cameron Baxter, a member of my team.”

  “Indeed, you are all welcome,” said the alpha. “In fact, I need to make a point here. Your companions have offered their guarantee as to your good behavior.”

  I was about to say something when I noticed a subtle change in the werewolves. Suddenly they seemed less relaxed, more attentive, and definitely more threatening. Marie didn’t speak much French so I switched back to English.

  “What did he mean by you’ve offered your guarantees for my good behavior?” I asked.

  Marie drew in a startled breath and Cam looked uncomfortable.

  “It means,” said Cam, “that if you cross the line, we pay the price.”

  “No, not happening,” I said, switching back to French. “I stand on my own.”

  “But this is the way it must be,” said the alpha smoothly. “You are human, you must have wolves to speak for you, to stand for you.”

  “No,” I said emphatically. “You will not hold my companions responsible for my behavior. I won’t allow it.”

  “Jack,” said Marie quietly.

  She may not have understood the words but she knew that look in my eye.

  “No,” I said firmly.

  This was not the way werewolves behaved, ergo it was a test.

  “It is not your choice,” said the alpha.

  “Then we’ll leave,” I said.

  “If you do so, you will be considered prey. You wolves will be denied the city of Paris, your life will be forfeit.”

  “I won’t have the consequences of my actions forced upon others,” I said firmly.

  The alpha spread his hands and smiled.

  “There is nothing you can do about it,” he said softly.

  “Yeah, right,” I said.

  My hands darted under my jacket and came out full. I whipped the commando knife around in my left hand and dug the point of blade against the throat of the guard. My right hand came out with a SIG and covered the alpha. I was pleased to see that Marie and Cam reacted with the same speed, her pistol and his PDW coming out of their holsters as they spun to put their backs to mine. Werewolves across the room surged to their feet.

  “Wait,” growled the alpha quietly. “Think about what you’re doing, human.”

  “I have,” I replied. “What kind of man would need his mate to stand for him?”

  “Now do you see what I mean?” said a strangely familiar voice from the shadows behind the table. “He’s more wolf than man in many respects.”

  “Liam?” cried Marie. “What the fuck is going on?”

  Marie’s brother walked slowly around the table and smiled.

  “It was a test, little sister,” he said.

  “And one he passed,” said the alpha in flawless English. “What kind of man would need his mate to stand for him? Our thoughts exactly, Pagan.”

  We stood frozen for a long moment.

  “Please, put up your weapons. We mean you no harm. And, I assure you, only you will be held accountable for your actions here.”

  I slowly relaxed and lowered my weapons. Everyone seemed to breathe a little easier.

  “You cut me!” said the guard, examining a smear of blood on his fingers.

  “Sorry,” I said absently.

  The guard shrugged and walked away, dabbing at his throat.

  Around us the werewolves were going back to whatever they were doing before the tension had started and the alpha was smiling. I wiped the few specks of blood off of my blade against the leg of my jeans and put both weapons away. Liam was absolutely unflinching under my glowering look.

  “Oh don't look at me like that, brother,” he said. “Nobody was in any danger. Besides, you did pass.”

  “Yeah, thanks, and how would that have helped if we’d opened fire?”

  “You weren’t going to shoot without further provocation, Jack,” he said. “I know you better than that.”

  “So you hopped over the channel just to set us up?” said Marie.

  “Not just that,” he said. “I was negotiating with Pierre about joining forces against the vampires. Your call just moved up my visit a little.”

  Liam turned to the French alpha and nodded toward me..

  “If you want help fighting the vampires there’s none better than Jack,” he said.

  “We have one thing to do first.”

  Liam nodded and stepped back.

  “Pack!” yelled Pierre.

  Every French werewolf was instantly on his or her feet, facing us and attentive.

  “Does any member see any reason why this wolf shouldn’t be counted as a comrade?”

  “What, you mean apart from the fact that he’s not a wolf?” said a voice over by the fire.

  A few appreciative titters ran around the room.

  “Yes, apart from that,” said Pierre, grinning.

  The pack was silent.

  “Then as your alpha I decide,” he said. “And I decide that he shall be treated as a packmate and comrade in arms.”

  Several members of the pack, in ones and twos, came forward. Every one, even the males, seized me by the shoulders and kissed me on each cheek in the traditional French greeting. I stoically endured the familiarity, a little cautious about Marie’s reaction. Some of the women were very beautiful in a sort of feral way.

  Eventually the greetings were done and we were invited to sit by the fire. I wasn’t sure about this but I got the impression that it was a ritual event. A space was cleared and we sank into an overstuffed couch as various members of the pack dropped into chairs or simply flopped down on the thick carpet. Marie pointedly claimed the seat next to me and took possession of my right hand.

  “Congratulations, Jack,” she said. “You’ve just been made an honorary werewolf.”

  CHAPTER

  23

  “I have a gift for you, my new brother,” said Pierre.

  We’d spent a long evening at the pack’s home, eating and drinking, meeting my new packmates and telling stories. They had asked me to tell the story of how I’d met Marie, and from there, how I’d killed Glavidia and then Marcus.

  In return I’d learned about the pack, about how they were almost second-class citizens in France, thanks to the vampire propaganda. I’d learned that there had always been a pack in Paris, that they had fought against the Nazis in the Second World War, that close to a dozen had been killed between the Somme and Ypres during the First World War. Bullets may not have much of an effect on werewolves but mustard and chlorine gas will incapacitate them almost as fast as a human.

  The alpha was holding a bolt-action rifle, recognizable even in the dim light.

  “That's a Lee-Enfield,” I said.

  “Indeed,” he replied. “It is called a Short Magazine Lee-Enfield Mark 2.”

  He sat down, cradling the rifle on his lap.

  “This rifle has a history, if you will indulge me,” he went on. “It was made in nineteen hundred and nine, at the Royal Small Arms Factory in Enfield. It was issued to a member of the King's Royal Rifle Corps who was killed fighting the Boche in the first battle of Flanders, what you English call the first battle of Ypres. In death, this soldier saved a life, because a young French soldier, separated from his regiment and without his weapon, found his body. This Frenchman took the fallen Englishman's weapon and his ammunition, reasoning that one soldier would not deny the use of this to another who fought for the same cause.

  “He made his way back to his own regiment and used his new rifle to kill three Boche on the way. For the rest of the war he carried this rifle, bartering and buying ammunition from any English soldiers he encountered, because he saw it as his good luck charm.

  “That man was my great-grandfather.”

  The alpha was staring into the fireplace, lost in his memories.

  “When the Boche came again, this time calling themselves Nazis, his son, my grandfather, took up this rifle and joined la Résistance. He becam
e an accomplished sniper, scoring many kills against the occupiers.

  “It was then that my grandfather was bitten by a werewolf, one who was with the Boche, hunting down those who opposed the occupation. His life was saved, and the Boche wolf killed, by this pack, which he joined.

  “After the war, my grandfather used this same rifle when he took my father hunting, and my father did the same for me.”

  Pierre stood and faced me. I rose to my feet as well. Between us the antique rifle gleamed in the firelight as he handed it to me.

  “And now it has returned to the hands of another English soldier, where it belongs.”

  By the time we left and made our way back to the hotel the sky was getting light. Almost everyone was asleep. Anna was sitting up waiting for us, with John asleep on the couch next to her, his head pillowed on her lap.

  “Morning Anna,” I said softly.

  “Morning guys,” she replied. “Do I want to know why you’ve got that?”

  “This?” I said, holding up the rifle. “Gift from the pack.”

  “They gave you permission?” she asked, absently stroking her husband’s hair.

  “They did more than that,” said Marie. “Jack’s one of the pack, now.”

  “Nicely done, Jack. Wowed ‘em, huh?”

  “Yeah, a little too much if you ask me,” Marie replied. “About half of the females were looking at him like they’d love to grab hold of him, and the other half were looking at me like they wouldn’t think twice about going through me to get him.”

  “Sweetheart,” I said, draping my arm around her shoulders. “It wasn’t that bad. Besides, half the males were looking at you like they’d cheerfully rip out my throat to take you as a mate.”

  “Really?” she said, looking thoughtful.

  I kissed her on the forehead.

  “We did learn some useful information, though,” I said. “We’ll get some sleep and get together when everyone’s awake.”

  “Okay,” said Anna. “I’d better get Sleeping Beauty here to bed.”

  She gently tickled John’s ear. He snuffled and brushed her hand away. She stroked her fingers through his hair, a strange, contented smile on her lips.

  “John, darling,” she said softly. “Time to wake up.”

  He grumbled and shifted, burying his face in her lap. She shook her head and pinched his earlobe.

  “Come on, baby, time to go to bed.”

  “What’s the point in waking me up to go to sleep?” he asked, his voice muffled.

  My chuckle must have penetrated his sleep-addled brain and he turned over, blinking in the light.

  “Sorry, boss,” he said. “Didn’t realize you were back.”

  He frowned and struggled to focus.

  “Is that a Lee Enfield three-oh-three?” he said, sitting up.

  “Yeah, gift from the pack.”

  “Cool,” he said.

  “We’ll tell you all about it later,” I said. “Get some sleep.”

  “I was getting some sleep before someone woke me up to get me to go back to the sleep I was already getting.”

  “Sweetheart,” said Anna. “I didn’t say time to go to sleep. I said time to go to bed.”

  “Oh,” said John, blinking rapidly. “Oh. Okay, g’night everyone.”

  He jumped up, grabbed his wife by the hand, and practically dragged her to the bedroom.

  “Hey, Cam,” I said once the door was closed. “Thanks for backing us up tonight.”

  “No problem, boss,” he replied. “Good night.”

  “’Night Cam,” said Marie.

  “G’night, Cam,” I said.

  Marie slipped her arms around my waist, rested her chin on my chest, and looked up at me.

  “And then there were two,” I said.

  “Yes, indeed,” she said. “And one of them has a really big weapon.”

  I bent and our lips met in a soft and lingering kiss.

  “You’re getting ideas, aren’t you?” she whispered.

  “About you? Always.”

  “Want to join me in the shower before bed?”

  “Are bears Catholic?”

  “Yes, lover, bears are Catholic,” she said, slipping her fingers inside the waistband of my jeans and tugging me towards our bedroom.

  “Hang on,” I said once we were inside. “I need to put the rifle away.”

  I reached under the bed and pulled out the case that held my FAL. The SMLE wasn’t that much longer than my regular rifle so they both fit nicely inside the long case. I gently brushed my fingers over the breech of the FAL.

  “Look after her, okay?” I whispered.

  “Are you talking to your gun?” said Marie.

  “Yep,” I said. “I’m insane. You hadn’t spotted that yet?”

  I closed and locked the case, then slid it back under the bed.

  “You’re crazy?” she said as I stood up.

  “Sure am. Who else but a crazy person would be over here chasing after a myth at the behest of the Vatican?”

  “This is true,” she said.

  I turned and my smile widened into a grin as I saw she was already naked.

  “When did that happen?” I asked.

  “Well, you have to keep an eye on me,” she said. “I’m sneaky.”

  “Yeah, I noticed that,” I said, pulling my shirt off.

  “Can I ask you something?” she said.

  “Sure,” I said, taking off my jeans. “Anything.”

  “Okay,” she said, lowering her eyes.

  “What is it sweetheart?”

  “Well, I was just wondering if, maybe, one day, if you don’t mind …”

  She trailed off and I noticed she was blushing. I used the tip of my forefinger to tilt her face up to look at me.

  “What is it, sweetheart?”

  “It’s just … I just want to try …”

  “Anything, love, just ask.”

  “Can I be in charge one night?”

  “You mean, like in bed?”

  “Yeah.”

  I studied her eyes, a little confused.

  “Of course,” I said.

  Her face lit up with her smile.

  “Really?”

  I cupped her cheeks in my hands and gently touched her lips with mine.

  “Sure, love. It sounds like fun. One question, though. Why was that so hard?”

  She wrapped her small hands around my wrists, turned her head and kissed me on first one palm and then the other. Then she suddenly gave a soft laugh.

  “I’m sorry, I just keep forgetting you’re not a wolf.”

  “That’s not what your brother said.”

  “Well, he’s right, in a way, but I think he’s seeing more what he wants to see than anything else.”

  “He wants me to be wolf-like because I’m your mate?”

  She nodded and kissed me on the inside of my wrist. The contact sent shivers up my spine.

  “So, tonight?”

  “No, not tonight,” she replied. “But one night. Are you sure that’s okay?”

  “Of course, love,” I said.

  I pulled her closer and kissed her on the forehead.

  “You smell fantastic,” I whispered.

  She lifted her head and I kissed her on the nose. That always made her giggle. It was one of the most intriguing things about my mate: that she could be so assertive and aggressive in combat, so dangerous and powerful, yet in bed she was soft and sweet, submissive and kittenish.

  I lowered my head, our lips met, and there was no more need for words. I led her into the bathroom and pulled her into the shower. Under the cascade of hot water we washed each other, hands sliding over soapy skin. I cupped her breasts, slippery with lather, and gently tugged on her nipples as she massaged my erection and gently rolled my balls in her hands. I trailed my fingers across her stomach and between her legs, finding unbelievable heat.

  “Jack, please,” she whimpered.

  I was fighting against my instincts, desperatel
y trying to let the tension build until I could stand it no more.

  I slid my hands over her firm behind and gripped the back of her thighs, lifting her up. She wrapped her legs around my hips and I pressed her against the wall as I slid inside her. Her strangled gasp met my groan of satisfaction, her arms tightening on my shoulders, her fingernails digging into my back.

  “Jack.”

  I was asleep, warm and cocooned against the world, my mate in my arms. That same mate was trying to wake me up.

  “Jack? Are you awake?”

  “I am now,” I said in a surly voice.

  “I’m sorry, Jack, it’s just—”

  She was interrupted by a flash of lightning and, a few seconds later, a huge clap of thunder. I came fully awake when I noticed she was trembling.

  “Marie, what—”

  “Don’t you dare laugh at me!”

  “I wasn’t going to laugh, honey,” I said, hugging her tight. “What’s the matter?”

  “Thunder just scares me, okay?” she said, nestling against me. “I know it’s irrational but I can’t help it.”

  “Okay,” I said softly. “It’s okay.”

  I held her and stroked her hair as the skies raged outside. I have to admit that, although I don’t have a problem with thunderstorms, this one was impressive—and loud. Every few seconds the room would be briefly illuminated, the window clearly visible through the curtains as a rectangle of bright blue light. Inevitably, within a few seconds, the room reverberated with the sound of thunder.

  “You want to get up honey?” I said.

  “No,” she said. “I want to stay here, warm and safe.”

  “Okay, love. We can—”

  A flash of lightning threw the room into sharp relief and projected a human form onto the curtains. Someone was standing on the balcony outside the window!

  I shoved Marie away from me, probably harder than necessary, and rolled out of bed, groping for my trousers and cursing the afterimages on my retinas.

  “Jack?” she whispered. “What th—”

  I hissed at her and held a finger to my lips as I picked up my pistol. With the SIG pointed at the window I started edging around the bed. Marie didn’t bother with her pistol; she simply changed and slipped out of the bed.