Pagan (MPRD Book 1)

by Andrew Chapman

  “And maybe you could go put a few more clothes on?” I said.

  She looked down at the skimpy lingerie she was wearing and twirled.

  “Making you uncomfortable, Pagan?”

  “A little,” I confessed.

  “Okay, seeing as you asked nicely,” she winked and pointed behind her. “Kitchen’s that way. I’ll be back in a second.”

  The steaks were delicious, the conversation lively and sparkling, and my hostess, now wearing a pair of faded jeans and a t-shirt that read “Happy Birthday Keith”, was an excellent chef. By 10 o’clock I felt considerably better. Marguerite gave me the keys to her Jaguar and walked me to the door.

  “Listen, if you want, come south, get out of this place,” I said. “We’ll protect you.”

  She shrugged.

  “I might take you up on that, Pagan.”

  “Jack,” I said. “It’s Jack.”

  She nodded and smiled. I wanted to thank her, so I leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. At the last instant she turned her head and caught the kiss with her lips.

  I stepped back and raised an eyebrow.

  “You can’t blame a girl for trying,” she said cheekily.

  CHAPTER

  23

  Marguerite’s car was lovingly maintained and I had hoped to return it to her in good condition. The three cop cars behind me had other ideas. I’d picked them up not far from her house and now they were chasing me like I’d murdered someone or something. The local police force worked for Glavidia, so I guess they had an axe to grind. I just didn’t want them to grind it against my neck.

  The cops in the cars weren’t real cops, most of those had either come south or had been killed trying to defend the people against the vampires. These were hired thugs, little better than bruisers seduced by money and the opportunity to beat up those weaker than themselves.

  I skidded out onto the A34 dual carriageway on the wrong side of the road, slid sideways around a roundabout and got on the correct side. Luckily the road was deserted—the vamps encouraged people not to travel—and I floored the accelerator. Over five liters of Coventry’s best engineering roared as I shifted through the gearbox like a madman. The cops were still on my tail, although I had a little lead thanks to my manic driving.

  Being thrown around had reopened my wound at least partially, and my lap was, once again, soaked in blood. I was feeling sick and lightheaded, so driving was low on the list of things I should have been doing.

  Ahead was Havelock Park, my backup, and salvation.

  I dropped a gear, hauled on the handbrake, and skidded around the corner into the park’s entryway in a cloud of smoke and shower of gravel. I slammed down another gear and the Jag shot forward into the car park. From there I could see out over the entire area, unbroken, gently undulating hills, completely free of helicopters.

  I skidded to a halt and stared at my watch. 11:15. I had forty-five minutes. Where the fuck was Knuckles? I surged out of the Jag, staring at the unblemished grass in disbelief.

  Behind me the lead cop car squealed into the parking lot. I spun around and tore my MP7 from its holster, spraying the entire thirty-round clip into the car, the armor-piercing rounds making short work of the windshield and the occupants.

  I dropped the empty PDW and lunged back into the car, emerging again with the shorty. When the second car came into view I fired round after round at it, the heavy 7.62mm rounds puncturing tires, doors, engine block, windshield and occupants with ease. The gun clicked empty. The car slewed in a wide circle and crashed into the first vehicle.

  I fumbled to reload the shorty, a full magazine slipping from my blood-slick fingers. I needn’t have worried. The third cop obviously thought better of coming after me, skidded around in a full 180, and screeched off back the way he had come.

  I stepped forward, yelling at the top of my voice.

  “Yeah! How you like that? Run, you fuckers! Run the fuck away! Who’s your daddy?!”

  I waved the shorty and whooped, dancing on the spot.

  “Who’s your daddy?!”

  Then I felt the wind behind me. I spun and collapsed to my knees as my legs gave out. In the air, floating gently towards me, was a black-robed Angel of Death, with a skull for a head and wielding a scythe. I gaped for a second and shook my head weakly. The apparition just kept coming.

  “Oh no, you fucker,” I slurred. “Not without a fight.”

  I raised the shorty and pulled the trigger. Nothing. It was fucking empty. I let the rifle fall to the ground and tried to draw my SIG with fingers that felt like they belonged to somebody else.

  Death settled to the ground, his voice roaring in my head, his breath washing over me. Two figures came out of his robes and ran towards me. I fell backwards, all my energy gone, leaking out of me like my precious blood.

  An anxious face entered my line of sight. I thought I should recognize her. I knew the guy who joined her. It was Rock Ape. Was the other Knuckles? I thought it was. They were talking but I couldn’t hear them over the roar of Death. My vision narrowed, tunneling down to a point, and I felt myself rising upwards.

  Shouldn’t I be heading down?

  As last thoughts go, that wasn’t a very good one, but I didn’t exactly have time to rehearse.

  CHAPTER

  24

  I awoke to crisp sheets, cold air and the thrash metal band playing an enthusiastic fifth encore in my head to thunderous applause. I was getting tired of waking up with a headache. At least this time I was in a hospital. Not only that, I was in a hospital I recognized. I was at Brize Norton. I had died and gone to Brize Norton.

  And I could smell Marie. I raised my head—which caused an extended drum solo followed by some meaty power chords from the band—and saw her. She was sitting in a chair, asleep, her head pillowed on her arms next to my hip. Once again her beauty stunned me. What had I ever done to deserve the love of such a wonderful woman? I reached out and gently stroked her hair, twining a single golden lock around my fingers, glorying in the sense of her. She opened her eyes and looked at me, a smile growing on her lips.

  “Hi, welcome back,” she said sleepily.

  “Told you I’d make it back,” I said.

  She stood up and bent over me.

  “I seem to remember something about coming back in one piece,” she said.

  “I am in one piece,” I replied. “It may not be a very good-looking piece, but it’s all there.”

  “Oh shut up and kiss me.”

  She leaned down and I met her halfway. It was the kind of kiss that makes some parts of your body curl and others straighten. My head fell back to the pillow but she followed me down, my hand buried in her hair, my every nerve tingling at being with her again.

  “Well that’s not quite what I had in mind when I said he needed bed rest,” said someone who was standing by the door.

  “Hello Anna,” I said when Marie let me go.

  “Welcome back, boss,” she said with a smile. “I guess asking you if you feel better would be a waste of time?”

  I chuckled softly and then kissed Marie on the tip of her nose before letting her go.

  “I’ll take that as a yes,” said Anna. “Did our little Scrapper tell you she passed?”

  “Well of course she did,” I said proudly. “Full hunter now, huh?”

  Marie beamed at me as she nodded.

  “So now you two can start having sex and it won’t be against regulations,” said Anna innocently.

  Marie and I gave her twin dark looks.

  “Wait,” I said. “What happened with the diversion? Is everyone okay?”

  Anna nodded.

  “Went like clockwork,” she said. “We took them by surprise, made a hell of a lot of noise, and gave them plenty of time to get a message off. They had a radio, we found it afterwards.”

  “Anyone hurt?” I asked.

  “Just one,” said Marie, breaking into a broad grin.

  I looked from one to the other, wondering what
was funny.

  “What?” asked Anna, smiling.

  “Who?” I said incredulously.

  “Frenchie,” said Marie, breaking into a giggling fit.

  “Okay, enough. What’s so funny?”

  “We were done, finished,” explained Anna. “Killed thirty, forty bad guys. We were on way out, job done, and Frenchie slipped while he was running for the chopper.”

  “He was showing off,” said Marie. “He missed his footing on the helicopter, tried to leap in and slammed his face into the door.”

  I tried not to smile. It was impossible.

  “He broke his nose,” said Anna.

  “No!” I said, laughing.

  “Yep, didn’t do anything for his looks, though,” said Anna. “Two lovely shiners.”

  “He looks like a panda,” said Marie, losing it completely.

  I joined in with the laughter. It was pretty funny. Frenchie was a good friend, a great fighter, a steadfast comrade and, sometimes, a bit of a dick.

  We were still laughing when the door opened and Group Captain Montgomery-Standish walked in. He did not look happy.

  “Pagan,” he said by way of a terse greeting. “Glad to see you’re awake. Ladies, if you’ll excuse us, I’d like to speak with Pagan alone.”

  “I don’t think so,” said Anna with quiet menace.

  Marie was glaring at the officer, her arms folded. I knew how they felt. I didn’t like the man’s tone either.

  “What’s this about, Group Captain?” I asked, deliberately omitting the ‘sir’.

  “I rather think you’d prefer to hear this in private, sergeant.”

  “I trust my team, Group Captain,” I shot back, emphasizing the use of his rank.

  “As you wish,” he replied.

  He pulled a clear plastic envelope out of his pocket, something white and gold laying in the bottom.

  “Corporal Westmore found this around your neck. Thanks to his discretion you’re facing me rather than a firing squad. I thought it in the best interests of the Ministry and the Country that you be given a chance to explain.”

  “Corporal Westmore?” said Marie.

  “Rock Ape,” I replied.

  “Indeed,” said the officer. “He brought the matter to me directly, as ranking officer.”

  “What is it?” I asked, already sure of the answer.

  “I think you know,” he sneered. “I’d say you forgot to take it off when you came back from that so-called mission.”

  Anna reached out and snatched the bag, tossing it to Marie before the officer could react. When he did react there was nowhere to go. Anna was giving him the kind of steely-eyed glare that pins you to the spot. I transferred my attention to Marie.

  “What is it?” I asked softly.

  She shook her head, shrugged, and handed the envelope to me. Inside were a beautifully made gold chain and an odd pendant. It was about three inches long, the thickness of a pencil, and made out of intricately carved bone.

  “It’s a collar,” I said with a sigh.

  “A what?” she asked.

  “A collar,” I explained. “Vamps use them to mark their human bloodslaves, servants, and lackeys.”

  “So why were you wearing it?” asked Marie quietly as Anna took the bag and started closely examining the contents.

  “That, young lady, is the question we need answered. Fraternizing with the enemy is punishable by death.”

  “Oh shut up you pompous twat,” said Anna absently, ignoring the way the officer’s face turned purple. “Jack doesn’t fraternize with vampires. He occasionally flirts with them but fraternization is something he only does with werewolves.”

  “What’s wrong, Anna?” I asked.

  “What, apart from the fact that this office boy is in here throwing wild accusations around? This thing’s a fake.”

  I had been looking straight at Montgomery-Standish whilst Anna was speaking and saw the surprise on his face. He wasn’t trying to set me up, which meant he genuinely believed I was working for the vampires. Asshole.

  “How can you tell?” I asked.

  “I saw lots of these when John and I were up north. They’re made by a little old lady in the Isle Of Wight.”

  “It’s a fake?” said the officer sharply.

  She tossed the bag back to me and raised an eyebrow. I examined the pendant. My mastery of the vampiric language isn’t as good as Anna’s—she’s been studying it for years—but I managed to read most of the curly writing.

  “These marks say that the person wearing the collar belongs to Glavidia,” I said with a frown. “But it says she became One of Three in 1847.”

  “Is that significant?” asked Montgomery-Standish.

  “Yeah, she took her place in the Three in 1874, not 1847,” I replied. “It’s a tiny difference, not something you’d notice if you weren’t looking for it, but it’s wrong.”

  “It’s like a pass code,” said Anna. “We used to use these to identify each other. If you saw someone wearing a collar with that specific error on it, it meant they were working for the Ministry.”

  I frowned and tore the bag open. Montgomery-Standish looked like he was about to have an aneurysm but wisely kept silent.

  “There’s something else,” I said, looking closely. “There’s a break here.”

  I took the pendant and twisted it. After a brief effort the two halves came apart, revealing a narrow tube with a rolled piece of extremely thin plastic hidden inside.

  “It’s a message tube,” I said, pulling the plastic out.

  When I unrolled it and held it up to the light it was covered in tiny writing. It looked like an old-fashioned microfiche slide.

  “It’s too small, I can’t read it,” I said.

  Anna took it from me and held it out to the officer.

  “I think this might interest our tech boys,” she said with a fake smile.

  “And I think you owe Jack an apology, too,” said Marie, a determined look on her face.

  “Absolutely right,” said the officer. “My apologies Pagan. I’m glad I came to you before filing anything official.”

  Everyone in the room relaxed a little. I had been expecting a blustery ego battle. I’ve never been happier to be wrong. Except with Marie, that is.

  Montgomery-Standish suddenly looked older, as if the weight of the world had just landed on that ramrod-straight back.

  “This damned war, making us doubt each other,” he muttered, then straightened up and focused. “I’ll get this down to the lab, see what the tech-heads make of it. Ladies, Pagan.”

  With a nod he left the room and, I noticed, took the guards with him.

  “Idiot,” said Anna. “Okay, Jack, ‘fess up. Where d’you get the collar?”

  “I have no idea,” I said, genuinely confused.

  “Well it must have come from somewhere, she said. “Rock Ape wouldn’t make that up.”

  “Marguerite,” I said, my thoughts finally getting up to speed.

  “Who is Marguerite?” said Marie sharply.

  “Vampire, works for the Ministry deep undercover in Glavidia’s court,” I said, and proceeded to give them an abbreviated account of our meeting.

  I underplayed her seduction attempt as much as possible and glossed over the kiss she’d stolen. I felt guilty as hell about that.

  “Is she pretty?” asked Marie quietly.

  “Okay, on that note I think I’ll leave you two alone,” said Anna, getting up and heading for the door. “Get better quickly, Jack. The brass want to debrief you.”

  After she had left Marie fixed me with a glare.

  “Well?” she asked.

  “Well what?”

  “Don’t play with me Jack,” she said, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Is she pretty?”

  “Marguerite? I dunno. She’s cold, arrogant, like she’s beautiful and she knew it.”

  “You think she’s hot?” said Marie with a dangerous look in her eye.

  “Not my type,” I said w
ith a shrug.

  “And what’s your type?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

  “Oh, I’m thinking blonde, blue eyes, about five foot six, strong, smart, occasionally furry.”

  She tilted her head slightly and gave me a cold look.

  “Name of Marie?” I finished hopefully.

  She sighed softly and leaned over me.

  “Just be honest. Do I have anything to worry about? Is she someone I should feel threatened by?”

  I reached out and touched her cheek.

  “Don’t you trust me, love?”

  “Oh, please. You, I trust. It’s all the women in the world I don’t trust.”

  “Then trust me on this, Marie,” I said seriously. “You don’t have to feel threatened by anyone, ever. I have never in my life felt about anyone the way I feel about you.”

  “You didn’t sleep with her?”

  “Of course not! Marie? What kind of question is that?”

  “Did you kiss her?”

  “No! Well, yeah,” I said, catching the look in her eye and hurrying on. “I wanted to thank her so I went to kiss her on the cheek.”

  “ ‘Went to’?”

  “She turned her head and …” I trailed off.

  “And what did you do?”

  “I jerked away and made it clear that I didn’t appreciate that.”

  “Jack,” she said quietly. “You scare the crap out of me.”

  I sat there, eyes wide, trying to figure out what the hell she was talking about. She sat up and scrubbed her face with her hands.

  “Jack, I’m a wolf. Do you know what that means for us? For our relationship?”

  “I’m not sure,” I said hesitantly.

  “Well, maybe once you’re better I’ll explain it to you.”

  She bent down and kissed me on the forehead.

  “Get some sleep. They’ll want to debrief you tomorrow morning.”

  She looked into my eyes and smiled slightly.

  “I love you, Jack Henderson.”

  “I love you too, Marie Hennessey.”

  CHAPTER

  25

  The debriefing proved to be moderately unpleasant. There were way too many officers in room trying to dip their oars in the water. I must have answered the same questions about a dozen times, reiterating point after point, until I did the only thing I could to take control of the situation—I walked out. Colonel Tilehurst caught up with me in the corridor.