Pagan (MPRD Book 1)

by Andrew Chapman

  I’d taken two bites of my dessert before Marie was scraping the dish and licking the spoon clean. I checked the ceiling to see if any was stuck there. When I looked back down her dish was gone and she was leaning against my shoulder with a dreamy look on her face.

  “That,” she said happily, “was amazing.”

  “You know chocolate stimulates the same receptors in the brain that sex does, right?” said Anna, cleaning her dish.

  “Yeah, but you can’t snuggle with chocolate when you’re done and sex burns calories instead of piling them on your thighs,” said Marie.

  “So you’d take sex instead of chocolate?” asked Anna slyly.

  “I’ll take sex and chocolate, if it’s going.”

  “Okay,” I said quickly. “We need to find somewhere open to get some chocolate.”

  Marie kissed me and I could taste the dessert on her tongue. Anna and John were exchanging amused looks.

  I placed a credit card on the table. Within seconds it was mysteriously removed and then returned, along with receipt that, once signed, wafted away. I’m pretty sure I caught a glimpse of the waiter that last time.

  We left a generous tip and made our way outside.

  “It’s only eleven,” said Anna. “Think we can find a club and dance the night away?”

  I groaned and John shook his head.

  “I’ve seen Jack dance,” he said. “People on fire move with more rhythm than he does.”

  Marie looked crestfallen.

  “Okay,” I said. “I’ll take one for the team if you guys promise not to laugh too hard.”

  Everyone gave unconvincing assurances and we set off towards the town center. It was chilly and Marie’s coat didn’t look all that warm so I slipped off my jacket and draped it around her shoulders. She cuddled close as we walked, following the sound of thumping music.

  “Looks promising,” said John as we turned a corner and saw a sign that read “Club Lurid” over a doorway guarded by a pair of bouncers that looked like strategically shaved gorillas in badly fitted suits.

  We were walking in when one of the gorillas put his hand on my chest.

  “No guns inside,” he grunted.

  “Get your hand off me,” I said through clenched teeth.

  I do not like to be touched like that. I put my life on the line every day and there was no way I was taking shit from some muscleheaded steroid freak who stayed home safe.

  “Or you’ll do what, old man?”

  “I’ll break your arm,” I said. “How many places do you want me to try for?”

  The gorilla laughed nastily.

  “Back the fuck up and maybe you’ll get to walk home,” the second bouncer sneered. “Don’t worry, me an’ my friend will show the whores what it’s like to be with a real man.”

  “Oh fuck,” said John. “Oh fuck, man. You’re in a world of shit now. Nobody talks about my woman like that.”

  I grabbed the gorilla’s hand and twisted, slamming my free hand into his shoulder and forcing him down to his knees. John hit the second gorilla with a punch that they probably felt inside the club and he went down like a sack of potatoes. John may not look like much but if you insult his wife in a dream you’d better wake up and duck.

  “Apologize to the ladies,” I growled at the helpless bouncer.

  “I’m sorry,” he gasped. “Oh God, I’m sorry!”

  The club’s door slammed open and a wiry little man with a worried little mustache came running out, two more bouncers on his heels. This could get nasty real quick.

  “What you doing?” he screeched in a middle-eastern accent. “You fucking stupid man!”

  I suddenly realized he was yelling at the bouncer I had in a death grip.

  “You fucking stupid no-good bouncer! You try to stop the Pagan from coming in my club? You fired! You hear me you man who fornicates with goats? You fired!”

  I released the bouncer—his face was turning purple and it wasn’t a good color on him—and straightened up. I got a good look at the owner of the club.

  “Samir?” I said, grinning broadly.

  “Aiee! My good friend Pagan comes to my club and this offspring of a dog tries to fight him? Please, come in my friends, you are always welcome here!”

  “Well fucking hell, Jack,” said John quietly. “You just know everybody, dontcha?”

  “Samir works for the Ministry during the day. He develops weapons and he’s damn good at it.”

  “Yes!” exclaimed Samir, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “How does the firebugs work for you? Is good?”

  “They’re beautiful, Samir, just perfect. Worked like a charm. I didn’t know you owned this place.”

  We were going down a set of steps into a huge room. The music was loud and pounding and I swear I could feel my teeth shake. Samir leaned close and yelled about two inches from my ear.

  “Is too loud to talk! We talk later, yes?”

  I nodded and Samir gave me a thumbs-up just as Marie grabbed me by the arm and pulled me out onto the dance floor.

  It was bad. I don’t think there were any casualties except for my pride, but it was a disaster. I just can’t dance. I was making a complete fool of myself—and loving every second—until Samir had the DJ put some slow songs on ‘for the lovers in the house.’

  Slow dancing I can do. I’m really good at slow dancing.

  CHAPTER

  30

  We finally made it home around 2am, more than a little worse for alcohol and in high spirits. John and Anna giggled off towards their bedroom and firmly shut the door.

  “Goodnight, guys!” I yelled at the door.

  “G’night!” came Anna’s muffled voice.

  I pulled Marie into my arms and grinned.

  “Well look what I found,” I said.

  “And what are you going to do with me?” she asked slyly.

  “Oh I think it’s probably going to involve considerably less clothes than you’re currently wearing.”

  I bent and kissed her, holding her tighter. Then I took her by the hand and led her into the bedroom.

  “I do believe I was promised a peek beneath the dress,” I said.

  Marie giggled as I took a seat on the bed and took off my boots and socks. She slipped her jacket off of her shoulders and dropped it on a chair. Her shoulder rig quickly followed it. Then she walked towards me, her hips swinging and her eyes hooded. She reached behind her back and I heard the sound of a zipper before the dress hit the floor. She was wearing a skimpy black push-up bra embroidered with tiny red roses, along with a matching thong that was so tiny it barely covered a thing. The contrast between the soft, sexy lingerie and the leather boots was incredible.

  “You keeping all those clothes on?” she asked with a cute smile.

  I stood up and slid my hands over her hips, up to her sides and around to her back.

  “No, I think I need to lose some or I’ll overheat.”

  She giggled again, tugging my tie down and unbuttoning my shirt. She pushed my jacket and shirt off and licked my chest as she unzipped my trousers. She kissed along my collarbone and up to my ear.

  “You smell incredible,” she growled.

  I placed the flat of my hand on her abdomen, just below her breasts, and pushed her back towards the bed. When her legs hit the mattress I kept pushing until she fell backwards with a yelp. She looked up at me and gave a soft growl. I leaned over her, one hand trailing over her stomach, my fingertips lightly brushing her skin.

  “You look good enough to eat,” I said softly.

  I knelt by the side of the bed and kissed the inside of her thigh, eliciting an aroused moan. I kissed higher as I pulled her thong to one side, inching my way up, closer to my goal. Her moans grew more passionate as I slid my tongue into warmth and wetness.

  And that’s when my pager gave a shrill screech. Marie’s, sitting next to mine on the bedside table, joined in, followed quickly by similar screeches from the next room. There was muffled thumping, bumping and swea
ring, too.

  I lay my forehead against Marie’s thigh and groaned.

  “Why now?” I said softly.

  “Do we have to answer them?” said Marie, twirling her fingers through my hair.

  I nodded. All hunters were required to carry pagers when away from the front lines and they were rarely used except for genuine emergencies.

  “Don’t move,” I said. “Let me check. It might be a mistake or a false alarm.”

  Yeah, fat chance. I picked up my pager and read the display, then did the same for Marie’s. Both read “AA**42:@1”. I swore.

  “AA” was the code for all-agents. Every hunter in the area was getting the call. Double star meant that the call was priority one, and “42” was the code for the Ministry building on base. “@1” just meant ‘at once’.

  Suddenly I was stone cold sober and sex was the furthest thing from my mind. Okay, so Marie was still lying on the bed wearing leather boots and barely enough material to make a small hat, so maybe it wasn’t quite the furthest thing, but I did feel like an ice-cold bucket of water had been thrown on my libido.

  “We gotta go, sweetheart. That was big-time urgent. Get dressed.”

  I strode over to the dresser and started yanking on my work uniform while Marie did the same. I did notice that she pulled her fighting outfit on over the lingerie. She caught me looking and blushed.

  “Just in case we can pick up where we left off any time soon,” she explained.

  “I’ll hold you to that,” I promised.

  We finished dressing and grabbed our guns as we ran out the door. John and Anna were already on their way downstairs. We all piled into the Land Rover and set off towards the base.

  “Any idea what it is, boss?” said John from the driver’s seat.

  “Not a clue, but we don’t get double-starred very often, so it must be big.”

  We drove the rest of the way to the base in silence. The guards had been expecting us and waved the ‘Rover through without stopping us. Now that was really worrying. The area around the Ministry building was thick with cars. I spotted Norse’s clapped-out old Cortina and Happy’s eyesore of a van, as well as about half a dozen others I recognized.

  We wasted no time getting inside. The big briefing room was like a miniature amphitheater, with a semi-circle of tiered rows of seats. It was about half-full and people were still streaming in. We commandeered a corner and I took a look around. The room was pretty dark but I spotted Norse and his crew and we exchanged nods. I knew that a lot of the hunters were taking advantage of the lull in vampiric activities to catch some time away from the front. I just hadn’t realized how many of us there were in and around Brize. I gave nods to quite a few of those around, those I could see, as the room filled up.

  Marie’s hand crept into mine and I gave her a reassuring squeeze.

  The lights in the briefing room went down further, leaving only the stage lit. Captain Dent walked out and stood behind the podium. Apparently she was more deeply involved with the Ministry than I’d first thought.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” she said, bringing the briefing to order. “I’m sorry to be cutting short what was, I’m sure, some long delayed time off.”

  There was some laughter around the room.

  “However, as I’m sure you’re all aware, we don’t do an all-agents to discuss the weather,” she said, to more laughter. “I think it’s safe to say that the shit has hit the fan in no uncertain manner.”

  She used a remote to activate the screen at the focus of the auditorium seats. Up came a regal-looking portrait of a coldly beautiful woman staring imperiously at the viewer. I knew the face. I’d last seen it through a SUIT scope.

  “This is Glavidia, four hundred year old vampire, member of the Three, the self-named ‘Queen of the Night’ and, thanks to Pagan, very, very dead.”

  There was some applause, some scattered cheers and cat-calls.

  “Yes, we’re all extremely grateful to Pagan for getting rid of this parasite,” said Dent. “And for the last few weeks the contenders have been fighting it out, jockeying for the open seat on The Three.

  “According to our intel, this gentleman,” she went on, clicking to the next slide, “one Hans Kohler, was number 2 in Glavidia’s organization. But he ran into Pagan, too.”

  More laughter and cheers.

  “So, for the last few weeks the vampires in her former organization have been fighting amongst themselves for dominance. Two days ago the contenders were down to two, and most of the lower vampire ranks were consolidating into factions behind them.”

  Another picture came up. This was of a haughty-looking man with cold eyes. He was unfamiliar to me.

  “This is Anders Borzhensky,” said Dent. “He is two hundred years old and extraordinarily powerful. Not powerful enough, though, because yesterday his body was found, seated in the remains of Glavidia’s throne in the main hall of Havelock Manor.”

  She turned, looking for me and meeting my eyes.

  “A Royal Marine combat knife was embedded in his throat, a 7.62mm round had been fired into his heart, and an SAS beret had been placed on his head.”

  The only sound in the room was a few whispered conversations as those who knew my history explained things to those who didn’t.

  “It was a message for me,” I said clearly enough to be heard across the room.

  Dent nodded.

  “That’s our belief,” she said.

  “From whom?” I asked.

  She turned and used the remote again. The next picture was of the vampire that had taken a flying leap at me as Glavidia was letting out her death rattle. I sat up straighter.

  “This is Marcus Demios, no known place or date of birth, but intel suggests he’s exceptionally powerful and, unlike most vampires, he allows his followers to grow in power too. He has a taste for human women and I’m not talking about blood. It’s his proud boast that he can … pleasure a woman to death in a single day.”

  “Then he’s a poof,” came Norse’s voice. “I can do that in an hour and a half.”

  There was coarse laughter and jeering at the comment.

  “I heard you were having trouble getting it up, Norse,” came a female voice from near the back of the room.

  “Naah,” said Norse with a dismissive wave. “Since I got those little blue pills I’m a stallion again.”

  There was more laughter and Dent gave Norse a frosty look.

  “It’s not just human women he likes, he also has a thing for vampire hunters,” she said, clicking her remote again.

  The picture was an ID card style picture of the woman Demios had been dancing with at the manor.

  “Demios’ date at the little party Pagan crashed has been identified as this woman, one Mary Sue Carrington, a freelance vampire hunter who operated out of Sheffield and who disappeared three weeks ago. Demios apparently likes appearing at these vampire gatherings with a vampire hunter date. Whether she was there voluntarily or was under mental domination is unknown, as is her fate. But she was in the vicinity of two grenades, so we can presume she’s dead.”

  “Which means,” came the female voice from the back again, “that he’s looking for a new piece of arm candy. Especially now he’s king dick.”

  “If you’re scared, love, you can stay home,” said a male voice on the other side of the auditorium.

  “I thought you’d be the worried one. At least he’d let me live.”

  “Settle down,” said Dent. “There’s worse. We received a report that Demios has decided to secure his place on The Three by pushing the front southwards as far as possible. He will be formally taking his seat in seven days and, according to our intel, he wants to present them with a gift. Probably Sheffield.”

  “So we’re to be the Thin Red Line then?” I asked. “What about the military?”

  “Officially the military’s hands are tied until the vamps actually make a move,” she replied. “I don’t know how many of you saw the news this morning but the
French and Italian governments are filing formal protests with the European Parliament over the assassination of Glavidia.”

  There was a chorus of boos and jeers.

  “Not only that,” Dent went on when it was quiet again, “but the US ambassador in London today informed the Home Office that his government intends to ask the UN to impose sanctions.”

  The jeers were louder this time and somebody yelled something about puppet governments.

  “And unofficially?” I asked. “What are the military unofficially doing?”

  “Unofficially, there will be a few units running exercises in the area and everything is on maximum alert. If anything happens we should be able to get support to you in less than thirty minutes.”

  “I do have one more piece of news to cheer you all up,” said Dent loudly.

  The room went quiet again.

  “Demios has quite an unusual little clan,” she said. “Not only are a lot of his bloodline unusually powerful vampires in their own right, but we received some very disturbing pictures.”

  Dent clicked through a series of images. All the vampires shown were horrific. They looked more like zombies than vampires, their skin covered in sores and open wounds. Their fangs were easily two inches long, more like yellow tusks, and their hair was sparse, filthy and unkempt. But worse were their eyes. I’d once, on a bet, gone diving in a shark cage and fed a great white. The vamps had the same eyes as the shark did: black, dead and soulless. Picture after picture, taken with a good quality digital camera, through the barred windows of wooden doors. Each vampire was wearing a heavy metal collar and was chained to the wall of the tiny cell each was in.

  Marie’s hand tightened on mine like a death grip. I turned and saw her staring at the screen, her eyes wide and shiny with tears.