Pagan (MPRD Book 1)

by Andrew Chapman

  I acknowledge the comment with a nod, silently agreeing with him.

  “We pulled back through Europe, fighting a rearguard action against the vamps. We lost a lot of good people there. Johnny Gurkha, Sixes, Pete Long, ‘Captain’ Kirk, Strangely Brown.”

  “Smoko barely made it out alive,” said Bill, his eyes staring into the distance. “Doc died of his wounds on the way back to the UK. Topper, Kinky, Stone, Chubby, Banger.”

  I nodded with each name on the list of fallen friends.

  “Porker was turned,” I said morosely. “Had to kill him myself.”

  “Remember the day the Foreign Legion came out of the sky?” asked Bill. “Frenchie was there, just dropping in the middle of us under a parachute.”

  Bill suddenly grinned.

  “Those guys may look pretty in their képis but they sure can fight.”

  “We made it out. Thanks to la Légion, and that relief column from the Bundeswehr. We made it out. Left a trail of bodies behind us a mile wide.”

  “You know that the Foreign Legion were disobeying orders?” said Bill, grudging admiration in his voice. “The French government had been penetrated by so many pro-vampire scumbags that the Legion were ordered to stand down?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “The Yanks were the same. Their government actually ordered them out of Germany. We gave a lot of them sanctuary afterwards because the bastards wanted to court martial them all for coming to help us.

  “I never heard any of this before,” said Rock Ape. “I mean, I knew about the fight across Europe, but none of the details. How can it have been that bad?”

  “No silver at the start,” said Bill. “And the vamps took control of the military and threw them at us.”

  “Not just the military either. We had farmers and housewives, screaming and frothing, coming at us. It was a nightmare. The hate in their eyes.”

  “The kids were the worst.”

  “Oh God,” whispered Knuckles. “Jesus. Kids?”

  I nodded and sighed heavily.

  “We moved during the day and fought all night, grabbing sleep when we could. By the tenth day we were all on our way out. People were shooting at shadows, scaring themselves silly. The Black Forest is no place for the mentally unbalanced.”

  “And then came the choppers,” said Bill. “Big, ugly American Blackhawks, dozens of them. Apaches, Chinooks. Tearing up the sky and picking us up by the fistful. Never been so happy to see Yanks in my life.”

  “Fuck happy,” I snorted. “If one of those pilots had asked me I’d’ve married him on the spot.”

  The laughter eased the tension a little.

  “They dropped us in Düsseldorf and we held long enough to get all the refugees out before pulling back to France, then back to England. It was fucking Dunkirk all over again.”

  “’Cept the Yanks were already with us this time,” said Bill in a weak attempt at humor.

  “It wasn’t until we made it back that I found out what was happening over here. My parents retired just outside Newcastle.”

  “Jack,” said Anna kindly. “You don’t have to do this.”

  “Dammit, I do have to,” I said fiercely, looking at her though my tears. “Someone has to know, it can’t just be me. There’s no official fucking record, no monuments to the fallen, nobody talks about this shit! People sit around and wonder if we’re right to kill vampires! Yes! We fucking are! We’re damn well right because it’s us or them! No compromise! No mercy!”

  “Jack,” said Anna softly. “I think you’re scaring the new guys.”

  “Fuck the new guys,” said Bill, “he’s scaring me.”

  I shut my eyes and grit my teeth, trying to regain control of myself. I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned. It was Scrapper. She’d moved to sit next to me, offering her hand in wordless sympathy.

  “My dad was one of the first to join the Home Guard,” I said quietly, lowering my head. “Like I said, he was a real hard arse. He was coming home early one morning when he found a group of vamps had somehow gotten my mum to come out of their house. My dad’s hard but he’s a kitten compared to my mum. She took dad’s shotgun and blew two of the fuckers away before they got her.”

  Scrapper’s hand tightened on my shoulder.

  “Dad killed three more but there were just too many. My kid brother was inside, shooting from the doorway with my dad’s hi-power but, by the time the sun came up, mum and dad were both dead. He ran for it, got pretty far before nightfall. He holed up and went on the next day. He managed to get out a message for me. Gave it to a Marine who was part of the relief force heading north.”

  “What happened to him?” asked Scrapper softly.

  “No idea. Haven’t seen or heard from him since.”

  “I’m sorry, boss,” said Rock Ape. “Shit, that’s bad.”

  I shrugged.

  “Just another story,” I said. “Most people lost someone in the attacks.”

  “I lost an old school friend,” said Rock Ape, shaking his head, “but nothing that bad.”

  “Nobody,” said Knuckles. “Nobody I knew was anywhere near the North when the leeches invaded.”

  I turned to Scrapper and gave her a sympathetic look. I’d remembered what Anna had said about her family.

  “Sorry, Scrapper, this must be hard on you.”

  She nodded and then wrapped her arms around me, laying her head on my shoulder. I slipped my arm around her and gave her a hug. I couldn’t figure out who was comforting whom and I don’t think it mattered.

  “You lose people, Scrapper?” asked Knuckles.

  She nodded and said nothing.

  “So,” I said with a note of finality. “Anna and John have each other, and that’s a beautiful thing, long may it continue.”

  Anna beamed at her husband and reached over to stroke his arm.

  “Home for them, I suppose, is wherever they’re together,” I went on. “Bill has a wife who is way too good for him and a kid who obviously sprung from the loins of the milkman because he’s smart and good-looking.”

  Bill grinned at me and stuck two fingers up in the traditional British ‘fuck you’ gesture. I rolled my eyes and turned to Rock Ape.

  “To answer your question: home, for me, is nothing more than the next dead vampire. That’s where I live.”

  CHAPTER

  15

  “You weren’t mean to me,” whispered Marie, snuggled warm and tight against me. “Especially once you found out how hard I was going to fight to pass your training course.”

  “That’s right,” I replied, tickling her ribs and making her squirm and laugh. “My little Scrapper.”

  “Bill was wrong about you, you know?” she said, nuzzling my cheek with her nose.

  “He was? In what way?”

  “In this way,” she said, sliding her hand down my chest, over my stomach and down, wrapping around me and gently stroking.

  “You’re not small. You’re the perfect size. Big enough to make me gasp, even make me a little sore the next day, but not so big we can’t do anything.”

  I was blushing furiously. Strange, but there you go. I can handle just about anything except that kind of compliment.

  She took my earlobe between her teeth and tugged gently, her breath hot and harsh in my ear.

  “For crying out loud, woman,” I laughed. “You’re insatiable!”

  “When the sex is this good, you better believe I’m insatiable.”

  I turned over and wrapped her in my arms, passionately kissing her.

  “Stop that,” I said breathlessly.

  “Stop what?” she said, her hand moving even faster.

  “Stop that or this’ll be over pretty quick.”

  “Ah, this?” she said, gripping me tighter.

  I groaned and nodded.

  “Well, the solution seems obvious,” she said, grinning wickedly. “Hide it somewhere I can’t get at it.”

  “Oh, you’re an evil devil woman,” I said, sliding between her legs.
>
  “Yes I am,” she said, and now she had both hands on my shoulders.

  I slid inside, watching her eyes close and her mouth open as she gasped. Then I grit my teeth as her hands clenched on my shoulders. Marie really didn’t know her strength.

  “Put your hands on the pillow,” I growled through my teeth.

  Her eyes opened wide and she stared at me. She hesitantly obeyed, laying the back of her hands against the pillow. I wrapped my hands around her wrists and pushed down firmly. I knew she’d be able to shrug me off if she wanted to, but I had to try.

  “Oh, wow,” she whispered. “What’s this?”

  I moved against her, finding a slow rhythm whilst holding her down. She moaned, her hips rising to meet me.

  “You like that?” I asked softly.

  “This is amazing,” she whispered. “Please Jack, faster. Harder.”

  “You are a wild little thing, my love,” I whispered back.

  “Think you can tame me?”

  Well, to be fair, I did try.

  Dawn was lightening the sky, a pale line visible through the gap in the curtains, and I woke up to find I was in bed with a werewolf.

  Okay, so I did go to sleep with a werewolf but she had been human when I closed my eyes. Now she was hot, furry, big and strong. Her eyes were screwed shut, her muzzle wrinkling in a snarl, tiny whimpers alternating with growls coming from her throat, and she was twitching against me, her legs and arms making tiny motions.

  “Marie?” I said, trying to wake her. “Sweetheart?”

  Her upper lip curled back completely and she gave vent to a full-throated growl. Fuck.

  “Marie?” I said louder.

  Her eyes snapped open and she drew in a great, shuddering breath before sitting up suddenly. She was trembling and breathing heavily. I sat up next to her and wrapped my arms around her, stroking her head with my fingertips. Her arms circled my torso, holding me tight enough to make breathing difficult.

  Slowly she calmed down, her breathing slowing and her arms relaxing. Then she changed, still holding me. I could feel her body rearranging against me, her fur receding and her skin writhing as things moved beneath the surface. None of this repulsed me in the slightest. Wolf or woman, Marie was my love, my other half, and my world.

  “Sorry if I scared you, love,” she said eventually.

  “It’s okay darlin’,” I replied. “Nightmare?”

  “No thanks,” she said, laughing shakily. “Just had one.”

  I touched her cheek gently, brushing tears away.

  “What was it?” I asked softly.

  “It was you, I was trying to find you,” she said. “I was in a corridor, one of those like in a fancy hotel, carpets and plants and paintings on the wall, and it went on forever. There were doors, hundreds of them, and identical rooms, and I could hear you screaming, screaming my name, screaming for help, and I changed and started tearing doors open, empty room after empty room, and no you.”

  She sighed and held me tighter. I couldn’t help myself, I kissed the top of the head and squeezed her.

  “You were trying to save me?” I said, amazed at how warm that made me feel.

  “Yeah, you’re my guy and you were in trouble,” she said.

  “Traditionally,” I said with a laugh, “that’s the other way around.”

  “Screw tradition,” she said, lifting her head to kiss me. “We’re a werewolf and a human in love who hunt vampires for a living. Tradition left the building a long time ago.”

  “So true, my love,” I said, laughing.

  “So you don’t mind me feeling this way?” she asked. “Protective of you?”

  “Why would I?”

  “Male ego,” she said, giving me a flat look.

  “My ego,” I said seriously, “can take the fact that my love wants to protect me.”

  She smiled shyly.

  “I just want you to be around for a while, that’s all,” she suddenly frowned and reached for my hand, holding it tentatively. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Anything,” I replied.

  “Does it bother you, me being a werewolf?”

  “No, why would you think it would?” I asked, puzzled.

  She seemed to be searching for the right words.

  “Let me put it like this,” she said finally.

  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, and then she changed again. She raised her head, looking into my eyes. Her wolf eyes were so different from her human eyes, right down to the color, but I could see her in them as easily as I ever did. She cautiously leaned forward and brushed the tip of her nose against my lips. She nuzzled against my cheek and tenderly licked my ear. I wrapped my arms tightly around her and buried my face in the thick fur of her neck, breathing deeply, taking in her scent.

  I trailed my hand across her back, down to her waist, running my fingertips through her fur. Her body was warmer as a wolf, absolutely wonderful to sleep with. I kissed along her neck, up to the pointed ears perched on either side of her head.

  She gave a soft growl, a gentle warning to slow down or stop altogether. I didn’t know which.

  “I love it when you talk dirty to me,” I whispered in her ear, trying not to laugh.

  Her hands pushed against my chest, breaking my embrace and forcing me back on the bed. She was grinning and shaking her head.

  “What? Didn’t think that was funny?” I asked.

  She leaned over me for a moment, her eyes intent, and then she changed.

  “We can’t,” she said finally. “Not like that. Not when I’m like that.”

  “Why not?” I asked, frowning.

  “Dammit Jack, I’m scared I’d tear you apart. I’m stronger like that and I have less control over myself. Instead of scratches on your back and bruises on your sides we could be looking at gouges and broken bones.”

  “Well, we don’t want that. We don’t want that at all.”

  I wrapped her in my arms again and we kissed for a while, just enjoying each other’s presence.

  “We really need to get some more sleep,” I said finally.

  Marie groaned and snuggled against me.

  “Why do you have to leave?” she asked petulantly.

  “I’m coming back,” I pointed out reasonably.

  “I know, it’s just … I’m worried. What if … what if you don’t?”

  I kissed her, as much because I wanted to as to stop that line of talk.

  “I’m coming back, I really am,” I said softly. “There aren’t enough vampires in the world to keep me away from you.”

  “You know what’s really weird?” she asked suddenly.

  “What’s that?”

  “I believe you. I really do. I don’t know how, but I really believe you. You are going to come back, aren’t you?”

  She studied me for a second, her eyes narrowed.

  “What is it, love?” I asked.

  “You change, you know that?”

  “Change?”

  “Like I do, like a werewolf.”

  “Uh, no I don’t,” I said, laughing.

  “Yes, yes you do,” she said, sitting up again. “It may not be physical, but you do change. Usually you’re Jack, the guy with the kooky sense of humor, who makes inappropriate jokes and thumbs his nose at people.”

  “I have never thumbed my nose—or anything else—in my entire life,” I protested.

  “Oh hush. You know what I mean. But when you go into a fight, you change, you become different.”

  I propped myself up on my elbows, studying her in return. I was puzzled, but part of me acknowledged what she was saying and, more importantly, agreed with her.

  “It’s like—you know that quote from the Hindu scripture that Oppenheimer supposedly used about the Manhattan project, the one that goes ‘I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds’?”

  I nodded, wondering where she was going with that.

  “That’s you, when you go into combat—into battle—it’s like you become
something else, something other. You become Death, the destroyer of worlds.”

  “Oh, that,” I said with some relief. “That’s just the training. You put your emotions on hold, bury everything deep down, and you become a machine. You analyze, you compute, you calculate, you think instead of feel. It makes the job easier, but it has its disadvantages. Sometimes all that repressed emotion can smack you straight in the face after the battle is over. It’s a major factor in post-traumatic stress disorder.”

  “No,” she said emphatically. “It’s more than just your emotions. It’s as if … as if you keep this killer inside you and you only let him out when you need him.”

  “What, now I’m Jekyl and Hyde?” I said lightly. “The schizophrenic with the deadly warrior buried under the nice guy? Trust me, sweetheart, I’m the same guy, it’s just different circumstances.”

  “I know that,” she said. “That’s why I said it’s like how I change. You’re still you, you’re still in charge, it’s just like a … like something changes.”

  She rolled her eyes in frustration and let out a heavy sigh.

  “Okay, let me put it like this, if I bent over in front of you what would you do?”

  I smiled wide, giving her a lascivious look.

  “Okay, you don’t need to answer that, I already know. But if I bent over in front of you in a combat situation you wouldn’t even give me a second look, would you?”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that,” I said, somehow sure I was lying.

  “I do. In combat I’m not your girlfriend, I’m not your lover, I’m not even a woman, am I? I’m a colleague, a comrade-in-arms, aren’t I?”

  “I doubt that,” I said quietly.

  “I don’t. Think about it, those little endearing names have been creeping in over the last few months. And you do it with Anna and John, too. When we’re together it’s ‘dear’, ‘sweetheart’, and ‘my love’. When we’re in combat it’s just ‘Marie’. And Anna’s not ‘luv’ or ‘babe’, John’s not ‘mate’ or ‘bud’.”

  I said nothing, quietly staring at her.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” she said after a few moments. “Maybe you’re right and it’s just the training. But remember the first time you saw me change? Remember that night? That morning?”