Pagan (MPRD Book 1)

by Andrew Chapman

  “Fucking hell, Jack,” he exclaimed. “You don’t get better with age, do you?”

  “My side feels like it’s on fire and those pricks were getting on my nerves, boss.”

  “You shouldn’t talk about very senior officers like that, Jack,” he said. “Even if they are pricks.”

  I shrugged with one shoulder, something I’d been getting used to doing recently.

  “I gave them everything they needed to hear, boss,” I said, a little defensively.

  “But you didn’t hear everything they had to say, Jack.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Tilehurst looked around and then nodded toward an empty office. When the door was closed he sat on the edge of the desk and stared at me.

  Without even thinking I found myself in the ‘at-ease’ position. Tilehurst gave me a wry smile, and then his face turned serious.

  “We examined the microfilm you brought back with you in that necklace thing,” he said.

  “What was on it?” I asked.

  “You were on it, Jack.”

  “Me?” I thoroughly confused.

  “You,” he repeated.

  “What about me?”

  “Everything about you. Your complete record.”

  I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

  “Some vampire has my record, and I take it we’re not talking about sanitized versions?” I asked.

  “Nope. Full, unedited, unsanitized records, no black marker censorship, nothing. The agent you met was trying to tell us that we’ve been penetrated at the highest level. Those records are hard enough for me to get hold of. How the vampires managed it is beyond me.”

  “So what’s being done about it?”

  “There’s a lot of low-key activity going on,” he replied, gazing out of the window. “A lot of people are having their security clearances examined. Luckily there’s only a very tiny number of people who have access to those files.”

  This was bad news. I spent a few minutes staring out of the window, thinking.

  “Not a lot we can do about it right now,” I said eventually.

  “Nope, I suppose not,” said Tilehurst.

  “Then I won’t worry about it. I have things to do.”

  We went outside where John was waiting with my Land Rover. Marie was nowhere to be seen.

  “Boss, Colonel,” said John.

  “Hey bud,” I replied. “Where’s Marie?”

  “She took your para FAL down to the range,” he said with a grin.

  “Why?”

  “It might have something to do with the fact that I told her that the regular FAL doesn’t have a full auto setting because it’s pretty much uncontrollable on auto.”

  “Might have?” I asked.

  “Yeah, might have,” he said with an innocent look on his face.

  I shook my head and laughed.

  “You can be an arsehole, John.”

  “Am I missing something?” asked Tilehurst.

  “Marie’s mad at me,” I explained. “I think she’s blowing off some steam.”

  “How?”

  “Probably by taking my shorty and running through every mag she can get her hands on.”

  Tilehurst gave a low whistle and shook his head.

  “Now I have to meet this woman,” he said with a grin. “From what I’ve heard she’s a bombshell but if she can fire a shorty SLR on full auto I’m gonna steal her away from you Jack.”

  I jerked my head towards the ‘Rover.

  “Let’s go.”

  “Why’s Marie pissed at you Jack?” asked Tilehurst once we were moving.

  “Apparently I didn’t answer correctly when she asked me if that vampire who sewed me up was attractive.”

  “What did you say?” asked John.

  “I told her the truth; that she was attractive but not my type.”

  Both guys let out exasperated groans.

  “What?” I said, puzzled.

  “Jack, that was definitely the wrong answer,” said the Colonel.

  “Why?” I asked incredulously.

  “Because, Jack, women know us way better than we know them,” said John. “That ‘not my type’ bollocks never works. Never has done, never will do.”

  “What? Why?” I asked.

  “Because you, boss, are guilty of the greatest crime known to woman. To wit; being in possession of a penis whilst unsupervised by a qualified woman.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means,” said Tilehurst gravely, “that you lied to her when you said Marguerite wasn’t your type.”

  “I didn’t lie,” I pointed out.

  “Yeah you did,” said John. “If she’s remotely attractive, she’s your type.”

  “But she’s not. She’s a vampire,” I said. “No offense, John.”

  “None taken, boss. But you’re a guy, and we members of the male population only have one type, defined as anything above butt ugly and of the female persuasion. You told Marie that she was an attractive vampire. There’s three parts to that description, female, attractive, vampire. That’s one in your favor and two against.”

  “But Marie trusts me,” I protested.

  “Yes, but right now she’s entertaining a tiny, nagging doubt that she’s not right to trust you,” said Tilehurst, grinning hugely.

  “You’re loving this, ain’t you boss?” I said sourly.

  “Yep, it’s always fun for us old married men when the young buck stumbles.”

  “I’m hardly a young buck,” I pointed out.

  “You’re younger than me and, if what I’m hearing is any indication, that young lady of yours has been putting one hell of a spring in your step.”

  “Life was so much easier when I just had to worry about killing things,” I said, leaning back in my seat and staring out of the window. “Are relationships always this hard?”

  “Thirty-three years old and never had a serious relationship?” asked Tilehurst in a surprised voice.

  “I’m thirty-one and the only long-term relationship I’ve ever had was with the Army. Until I met Marie the longest I’d spent with a woman was three nights.”

  “Awww,” said John sarcastically. “Our little boy’s growing into a strong man.”

  Before I could reply John pulled up outside the Ministry building.

  “I thought we were going to the range?” asked Tilehurst.

  “We are, but I need to pick something up first.”

  I was in and out of the Ministry offices in less than five minutes, a small plastic case under one arm and a larger case in each hand.

  “New toys?” said John enthusiastically as I climbed back in.

  “Yeah,” I said, opening one of the cases.

  Inside was a matte black weapon along with a dozen slim, foot-long magazines. It looked like something from a sci-fi movie.

  “This is the 21st century version of the crossbow,” I said. “It uses a series of magnets to accelerate a bolt almost silently, then reloads automatically.”

  “A semi-automatic, bowless crossbow?” asked John. “Whatever next?”

  I closed the first case and opened the second. This one contained what looked like bulky flashlights of various sizes. I pulled out my SIG and snapped one of the smallest to the rail under the barrel, running the pressure pad around to the handgrip so it would be under my thumb when I pointed the weapon. It would still fit in the holster with the new addition, which was nice.

  Pointing the pistol at the dashboard and resting my thumb on the pressure pad produced a dim, purple spot.

  “I think you need new batteries, boss,” said John, frowning.

  “UVC,” I said, returning the pistol to its holster.

  “UV what now?” asked Tilehurst. “I’ve heard of UVA and UVB, what’s UVC?”

  “The shorter wavelength, high energy end of the ultraviolet spectrum,” said John. “UVC is what gives you sunburn. Should cook vamps nicely.”

  He peered i
nto the case. There had been four pistol-sized flashlights, four that were slightly bigger, and four that were obviously meant to be hand-held.

  “You gonna share, boss?”

  “Sure,” I said, closing the case. “I brought enough for everyone.”

  “And what’s in box number three?” asked Tilehurst eagerly.

  I opened the case to reveal row upon row of silver-tipped 7.62mm and 5.56mm rounds.

  “Bo-ring!” sang John.

  “These are not your regular rounds. These are silver-tipped tracer rounds.”

  “Oh, nasty,” said Tilehurst.

  John was giving me a blank look. Sometimes I forget that he never joined the military.

  “Tracer rounds have a hollow space in the rear, filled with a mix of strontium and magnesium, which ignites on firing and burns a pretty red color.”

  John gave a low whistle.

  “Fire and silver?” he said. “Sounds like some vamps are in for a bad day.”

  “Yep, we’re supposed to test them out, see how well they work.”

  I closed the case and stowed it away.

  “Okay, lets get to the range,” I said. “I get the feeling I have an apology to make.”

  “Well don’t give it up too quick, Jack,” said Tilehurst, laughing.

  “What? Why?”

  “Because if you walk in there and just apologize you’ll ruin her opportunity to rant and rave at you and really make you feel like crap.”

  My body hurt too much for mind games. I just wanted Marie to be not mad at me any more.

  We stopped at the range and walked in, Tilehurst collecting salutes and even bothering to return them. Inside, a small group was gathered, watching something. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what. Suddenly there was the deafening sound of a battle rifle on full automatic, almost painful in the enclosed space. It seemed to go on for a very long time. Marie was standing, my shorty at her shoulder, emptying what looked like an extended thirty round clip down range.

  She must have seen me as she paused to reload because she gave me a flat look that made my heart sink. Oh yeah, I had some legwork to do here.

  CHAPTER

  26

  Marie effortlessly fired the shortened FAL, throwing thirty rounds at a paper target in ten-round bursts. Most of the vampiric ‘charging figure’ drawing’s chest and head were riddled with holes already. I took a scope and had a closer look. She was good. Every round was hitting and, had the target been a real vampire, each shot would have seriously ruined his day.

  “Damn, Marie,” I said when she lowered the weapon. “Why were you toting a shotgun around all these months?”

  “Because nobody told me I couldn’t fire one of these,” she replied, giving me a slightly sheepish smile.

  I placed the two large cases on the reloading desk and cracked one open.

  “Here, I have a present for you.”

  “It better be diamonds,” she said darkly.

  “Better,” I said. “It’s something that’ll help keep you alive, so it’s as much a gift for me as it is for you.”

  She was staring at me, appraising me like she couldn’t make up her mind about something. Probably wondering whether it was time to forgive me or not. I pulled out one of the medium sized UV lamps and fitted it to the rail underneath the shorty’s forestock.

  “May I have your pistol for a moment, sweetheart?” I asked.

  I could see curiosity warring with anger on her face. Curiosity won. She handed the weapon over. I fitted the smallest lamp to her SIG and handed it back. She examined it carefully, hitting the pressure switch and blinking at the weird, purplish light.

  “Ultraviolet?” she asked.

  “UVC,” I confirmed. “At the very least it’ll make vamps flinch. At close range it should burn pretty nicely.”

  “What’s in the other box?”

  “New weapon. I’m supposed to test it out.”

  “Not now,” she said firmly. “We need to talk.”

  “Okay. Not here, though. We still have a room?”

  She nodded and we gathered our things together. The crowd had dispersed—the presence of a senior officer will make even the dumbest squaddie suddenly remember all the important things he has to do—so only John and Col. Tilehurst were left. The officer was staring at Marie with an awestruck look on his face.

  “Marie,” I said, making the introduction, “this is Colonel Tilehurst, my former CO. Boss, this is Marie Hennessey.”

  “Ms Hennessey,” said Tilehurst smoothly as they shook hands. “Please accept my apologies for delaying Jack. We had some bad news to discuss, but had I known I was keeping him from getting a well-deserved carpeting I would have wrapped things up earlier.”

  “Carpeting?” asked Marie.

  “Military slang, my dear,” said a suddenly avuncular Tilehurst. “I understand our boy is in a little bit of trouble.”

  “He certainly is, even more now I know he’s been discussing our private life with other people.”

  I lowered my head and groaned while the two men tried to hide their grins.

  “So, what bad news?” asked Marie when she was done glaring at me.

  “We found out what was on that microfilm Jack brought back with him,” said Tilehurst. “It was Jack’s service record.”

  John drew in a sharp breath and Marie looked puzzled.

  “Why is that so bad?”

  “Let me put it like this, sweetheart,” I said carefully. “Not everything I did before the war was—strictly speaking—legal.”

  “And most of the things that were legal could prove—ah—embarrassing for Her Majesty’s government,” said Tilehurst.

  Marie turned on me, glaring.

  “Illegal? What kinds of illegal?”

  I did my one-armed shrug again.

  “Some things I couldn’t talk about even under oath in court,” I said evasively. “The vampire propaganda machine could have a field-day with my past.”

  Marie was looking from face to face, searching for a clue. Finally she sighed and gave up.

  “Okay,” she said. “Nice meeting you Colonel, but now Jack and I need to have that talk.”

  “Of course, dear lady, I only ask that you don’t leave any visible bruises or break any bones,” said the officer glibly.

  “I make no promises,” replied Marie.

  Tilehurst commandeered a driver and John took us to Gateway House in an uncomfortable silence. Marie and I stayed that way until we were in our room, the same room we’d stayed in before the mission. I carefully placed the cases on the dresser and turned to the love of my life.

  “Shut up,” she said softly.

  I opened my mouth to protest and she silenced me with the palm of her hand.

  “Don’t say anything,” she warned.

  I nodded and she removed her hand. Then she grabbed my by the front of my jacket and pulled me in for a deep, long kiss. I wrapped my arms around her, molding my body to hers, grabbing on like a drowning man grabs a life preserver.

  “Don’t get any big ideas,” she said when we broke apart. “I haven’t decided if I forgive you yet.”

  “Too late,” I said and kissed her again.

  “Jack, we can’t,” she gasped. “You’ll split your stitches.”

  “I don’t care,” I said, moving us both towards the bed.

  We fell onto the mattress and a bolt of pain slammed through my body. I yelped and rolled onto my back, grimacing.

  “Told you,” said Marie. “Hold on, let me check you.”

  She straddled my thighs and opened my jacket and then my shirt. She pulled up my t-shirt and gently ran her fingertips over the dressing on my side.

  “I think you’re okay,” she said finally. “I don’t see any blood soaking through, but that pain was your body’s way of telling you I was right.”

  I laughed weakly. She leaned forward, resting her weight on her hands, looking down at me.

  “We need to talk, Jack,” she said. “Abo
ut you and me, about us, and about what it means that I’m not human. You feel up to that?”

  I nodded. Talking was a huge step up from glaring.

  “But first, I think you do deserve a little welcome home something or other.”

  She leaned down and kissed me, softly and sensuously. I was confused as hell. Was she mad at me or not?

  She kissed me again, deeper this time, then trailed kisses down my neck and along my chest. At my stomach she paused long enough to unbutton my trousers before continuing, inching my boxers down as she went. I propped myself up on my elbows, watching her progress, hardly believing what was happening.

  She lifted my boxers and yanked them down, freeing my erection. Her eyes lifted to mine and she licked her lips. When I opened my mouth she shook her head.

  “This is the first time I’ve ever done this,” she said softly. “So lay back, shut up, and enjoy it.”

  Then she lowered her head, taking me into her mouth.

  Never let it be said I don’t obey orders.

  Marie was naked, sitting cross-legged on the bed. I was also naked, flat on my back, wondering if I would ever move again.

  “Enjoy that?” said Marie with an innocent smile.

  I opened my mouth but had to settle on nodding. Apparently vocal chords were going to be an issue too.

  “Confused?” she asked.

  “Yeah, a little,” I said, finally finding my voice. “Does this mean I’m forgiven or not?”

  “It’s not that simple,” she said, shaking her head slowly. “I want to tell you something and I need you to promise you won’t get freaked out.”

  “Okay,” I said.

  “What I’m about to tell you is not something we share with outsiders—non werewolves—but you need to know about this if we’re going to mate.”

  “Going to?” I asked. “What have we been doing up ‘till now?”

  “Don’t confuse sex with mating, love. Now be quiet and listen, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “The first thing you need to understand is that there are two different kinds of werewolf. The traditional kind, the one everyone thinks of when you say werewolf, are ones that were bitten on a full moon by another werewolf.”