Pagan (MPRD Book 1)

by Andrew Chapman

  Everyone accepted that Marcus would be coming tonight, that once the sun set we would be face to face with a thousand mindless killers. They had nothing to go on but my word, and I had nothing to go on but my gut. I knew that he only had a few days if he wanted to have Anna and Marie as his consorts when he went to claim his seat as One Of Three, but tonight felt right.

  It came down to the vamps’ legendary sense of drama. Marcus wouldn’t come to claim his prize on the sixth of November if he could possibly come on the fifth.

  Remember, remember,

  The fifth of November,

  Gunpowder, treason and plot.

  I see no reason,

  Why gunpowder treason

  Should ever be forgot.

  The fifth—Guy Fawke’s Day—was when we celebrated the foiling of the Gunpowder Plot. Guido Fawkes had been a minor player in the group of Catholics who had tried to blow up the Houses Of Parliament by loading the cellars with kegs of gunpowder, but it was he whom we remembered when we ‘burned the Guy’ every year. The sense of drama would appeal to the vamp’s ego. The Three would play the part of the government and I would get to be Guy. Marcus would return, triumphant, three trophies to prove his worthiness—Marie and Anna as his consorts and my head on a plate. Well, he was in for a disappointment if I had anything to say in the matter.

  The light had really started to fade and it wouldn’t be long before I ordered our floodlights lit.

  “Anyone else notice that most of the hunters who answered Pagan’s call are female?” said a voice behind me.

  I didn’t have to look to know the speaker was Anna. Marie smiled at me and turned around.

  “Think that says something about him?” she asked.

  “Maybe it’s just the size of his manhood,” Anna replied with a laugh.

  “Anna!” I said sharply, fighting not to laugh.

  “Okay, okay,” she said petulantly. “I’ll admit it. I started that rumor and it’s not true.”

  “The hell it isn’t,” said Marie quietly, causing Anna to stop and blink as she turned a speculative look towards me.

  “Never mind,” I said firmly.

  “Hung like a bloody horse, I tell you,” said Marie, giggling uncontrollably.

  I rolled my eyes and shook my head. It was time I took a stroll around the defenses.

  “I shall leave you ladies to your lies,” I said airily.

  “Lies?” said Marie as I walked away. “You think I choose to walk funny?”

  I tried to ignore the ripple of feminine laughter. I had to admit that Anna did have a point. Of the nine teams that had so far answered my plea for support, female hunters led eight. Strange. Still, with everything I had over fifty warm bodies to defend with. Fifty against a thousand.

  “It’s like bloody Rorke’s Drift, isn’t it?” said Spartan.

  I’d been as surprised as anyone when he’d turned up. The vote of confidence was a heck of a boost.

  “Yeah, but the first person who suggests a round of ‘Men of Harlech’ gets a smack in the mouth,” I replied.

  Spartan laughed and clapped me on the shoulder. It felt good to have the rangy hunter on board. I didn’t like him much but I did respect his abilities.

  I moved on, patting backs, shaking hands, giving words of support and encouragement to the soon to be outnumbered defenders. I liked our chances. We were arranged in a tight ring around the Falcon, our three vehicles—the Fox, the Saxon, and Spartan’s ‘Snatch’ Land Rover that carried a pair of 7.62mm GPMGs—were in the center where they could bring their firepower to bear wherever it was needed. Whichever direction the vamps came from could hold for the few seconds it would take to bring everything down on them. I also had a few hidden surprises. If the vamps made it over the outer wall I had an inner wall made of sandbags and furniture. There we would make our last stand.

  I walked the perimeter and ended up back at the oil drum full of burning wood that was my command post. Marie and Anna were chatting with Knuckles, Rock Ape and two other female hunters. The taller of the pair I recognized. She was a lanky, middle-aged woman who hailed from the USA, the state of Texas to be precise. Like many of her fellow Americans she disagreed with her government’s stance on the vamps and had come over to join the fight. She was cradling an old US Army issue M14 under one arm, a 7.62mm battle rifle I had a great deal of respect for.

  “Evening, Siren,” I said pleasantly.

  “Pagan,” she said, nodding.

  The second woman was a powerful young hunter who combined a punch that could floor any man, any time, with a startlingly girlish laugh and a tendency to blush at racy jokes.

  “Hydra, good to have you with us,” I said, meaning every word.

  “Nice to see you again, big man,” she replied. “How’s it hanging?”

  The greeting raised the kind of suppressed laughter that makes men nervous when it comes from women—mainly because they secretly believe that the joke’s on them.

  “Okay, time for an answer. What it is about people obsessing over the size of my genitals?” I asked sourly, helping myself to a cup of tea from the huge urn.

  “We just want to know if the books are accurate, Pagan,” said Siren.

  “Books?” I asked, sipping the strong, stewed liquid.

  “Yeah, the Pagan novels,” said Knuckles.

  I lowered my mug and stared at her.

  “The what now?” I asked.

  She rooted in one of her pouches and produced a battered, much-read novel that looked like one of those cheap romance books, the kind that usually deal with the bodice-ripping exploits of lady something or other and her bad boy suitor. She passed it to me.

  It had a picture of a chisel-jawed, steely-eyed man in combat gear who had clearly been in the act of being extremely heroic when the portrait painter had interrupted him. It was called In Defence Of The Crown: Book 4 of The Adventures of Pagan, The Vampire Hunter.

  I flicked through the book, my eyebrows raised.

  “What the fuck is this?” I asked.

  “The Ministry has been printing these for a few months now,” explained Knuckles. “It’s supposed to be about, well, you.”

  “The Ministry figures it’s a good way to counter all those soppy vampire romances that are so popular,” said Anna. “They sell like hotcakes in the US.”

  “But it’s bullshit,” I protested. “I don’t use an M-16. And I don’t have ‘clear, topaz eyes’.”

  “It’s propaganda,” said Anna. “It doesn’t have to be accurate.”

  “Check the last few chapters,” said Knuckles mischievously.

  I flicked to the back of the book and scanned the pages.

  “What? What the fuck? This guy offs a few vampires and makes it back in time to romp around the bedroom with a random woman?”

  Marie was leaning against my shoulder, reading the text and stifling her giggles with difficulty.

  “Oh, this is so corny,” I said. “ ‘ “Impale me, Pagan,” she cried, lost in her passion.’ Impale me? What the hell? Why did nobody mention this to me?”

  “Well, we thought you knew,” said Knuckles.

  I turned the page and started to laugh.

  “ ‘He spilled her to the floor and slid inside her with one hard thrust, his manhood filling her, stretching her to the very limit of pleasure.’ Crap, what do you see in this rubbish?”

  “I think Knuckles likes it because he’s doing the nasty with a female vampire hunter,” said Anna.

  I gave Knuckles an amused look.

  “You able to do foreplay like this girl, Knuckles?” I said teasingly.

  Knuckles blushed but stared defiantly at me.

  “I could do it, but if you’re as big as that guy, you might get puke all over your crotch.”

  Marie leaned in closer.

  “What are you talking about?” she asked.

  I flicked back a few pages and pointed at the passage.

  “I believe the correct term is ‘deep throat’,” I sai
d.

  “Hey!” said Rock Ape, grinning. “I’m only just hearing you can do that?”

  “I was saving that for a special occasion, stud,” Knuckles said sweetly.

  I was flicking through the pages and shaking my head.

  “This guy has the stamina of a draft horse,” I said. “This banging goes on for three chapters.”

  “Wait, go back,” said Marie, taking the book from me. “This deep throat stuff, guys like that?”

  “Honey,” said Siren, “if you can get your nose in his crotch and his balls on your chin, he’ll love you forever.”

  “Wow,” said Marie with wide-eyed innocence. “I gotta learn how to do that for you, Jack.”

  I gave her a long, thoughtful look.

  “Okay, you’re getting better at that, you almost convinced me that time,” I said.

  Marie laughed and gave me a shoulder bump as I took the novel back from her. Knuckles produced a pen.

  “Sign it for me, Jack?” she asked Knuckles.

  I took the pen and scrawled on the inside cover before handing the book back.

  “I’m going to check the defenses again,” I said and walked away.

  Laughter erupted behind me as they read the message I’d left. I’d written ‘To Knuckles: Don’t believe everything you read. Pagan.”

  It was nearing midnight and it was getting colder. I was sipping my three hundredth cup of tea of the night and watching Marie. She was crouched against the wall of the inn, reading one of the Pagan novels. It wasn’t ‘In Defence Of The Crown’ but the hero who was supposed to be me glared out from the cover anyway.

  “Looks like you’ll be in for a good celebration come tomorrow,” said Knuckles from beside me.

  “Well, I’d already planned on something like that,” I said absently. “Wait. What? Why? What’s in that one?”

  “You’ll find out soon enough,” she said in a teasing, sing-song voice.

  I groaned and looked back. Marie was no longer reading. She’d lowered the book and was staring out into the darkness, her nostrils flaring. Suddenly she stood up, her body tense. I dropped my tea, the clang of the tin mug against the ground shattering the quiet night.

  “Stand to!” I yelled as I brought my FAL up.

  A myriad of weapons came up and suddenly alert eyes scanned the darkness.

  And that was when the vampire stepped out of thin air.

  CHAPTER

  41

  Okay, so he didn’t actually appear like that. It probably looked that way to many people, but I had seen him walking briskly across the field and stepping smoothly into the area illuminated by the Falcon’s lights.

  “Hold your fire!” I roared at the top of my lungs.

  Silence reigned over the compound. I turned and nodded to Siren who was stood just inside the Falcon’s door. She said something to someone inside and the main bank of floodlights came on.

  The vampire stood revealed in the lights; it was the one from Havelock Manor. He was wearing black leather trousers so tight that in better light I could have told you something about his religion. Tucked into the trousers was a blouse-like white shirt, open to the waist, revealing a smooth, boyish chest. Over the whole outfit he was wearing black trench coat elaborately decorated with silver accents and embroidery. And, just to complete the image of a complete and utter ponce, he had long, carefully curled hair that lay in chestnut waves over his narrow shoulders.

  This was Marcus, this effeminate, mincing nancyboy, picking his way fastidiously across the grass? This was the vampire who was going to be One Of Three? I know appearances could be deceptive but this was ridiculous. Behind him stood five figures who were much more imposing. Four werewolves, huge and powerfully built—the inmüt, I presumed—and a raggedly dressed human. He was wearing a filthy pair of torn jeans and a crusty leather jacket. His fingers ended in three-inch silver claws. Dannor, in human form no less.

  “That was a very stupid thing you did, sir,” I said as soon as the vamp was close enough. “You almost died in a hail of silver. An inauspicious start to your career as head scum-sucker, don’t you think?”

  “You, sir, absolutely must be the one they call ‘Pagan’,” he replied with a condescending smirk.

  “Must I? Can’t I be someone else?” I replied, sending a ripple of laughter through the hunters.

  The vampire smiled indulgently, like a parent confronted with an endearing but disobedient child.

  “But to answer your so eloquently stated point, I was never in any danger from your men,” he said dismissively.

  “Really?” I said, surprised.

  I raised my right hand, my first two fingers extended. After a heartbeat I clenched the fingers into my fist. Behind me there came a sound like a twenty-ton bag of flour hitting the ground as Hacker fired the Fox’s RARDEN cannon. The 30mm shell hit the ground two feet in front of the vampire’s left foot, sending a fountain of dirt into the air. I know it’s childish but I felt a surge of satisfaction when he flinched and stumbled back a step. Hacker was inside the Fox, Bolt and Callie were in the Falcon, looking at the leech through their scopes. I had a squad of men crouched down, out of sight behind the wall, and another in the back of the Saxon.

  “Just in case you thought we would all be just bowled over by your glamour,” I said once the echoes had died away.

  “I come here to talk peace and this is the reception I receive?” he said, brushing dirt and grass off of his sleeves and shoulders.

  “Peace?” I asked. “You expect me to believe that?”

  “Yes, I do,” he said, regaining his composure. “I can imagine all the horrible rumors you’ve been hearing about me, but I truly only desire peace.”

  I said nothing; I simply stared. Every minute I could drag out this stupid, pointless conversation was a minute people weren’t dying.

  “What do you want?” I said eventually.

  “Nothing that should tax you,” he said smoothly. “I merely want the woman, in return for which I promise to remain content with my environs as they are presently set. I also ask that you refrain from interfering in any—ah—internal shifts in power where my colleagues and I are concerned.”

  I pretended to consider this for a few seconds, trying to spin it out some more.

  “Which woman?” I asked. “Because there’s one or two around here that we’re a little fond of and we’d rather not go giving away.”

  Again came the little ripple of laughter. Again the vamp smiled like he was dealing with a simpleton.

  “The traitoress,” he said. “The vampire woman who so recently came running to you after evading my bodyguard.”

  Ah, Marguerite. That made sense. That was a shame, I felt, because there was no way I would hand over an ally to our mutual enemy.

  I took a deep breath through my nose, still making like I was considering it. Deep inside my right ear a radio earpiece crackled into life. It was Happy. He was in the upper floor of the Falcon.

  “Movement two hundred yards on your twelve. Large numbers. Vamps.”

  Okay, so Marcus had offered the carrot but he’d brought the stick, too.

  “Just out of interest, what happens if I say no?” I asked.

  “Oh, I wouldn’t advise that, Pagan,” replied the vampire, the first licks of power flashing in his eyes. “That might be the worst decision you could possibly make.”

  The sad thing was that he was probably right.

  “Okay,” I said. “How about we get some time to think about it?”

  “You have one hour,” he said sharply. “No more.”

  Something about that arrogant tone of command raised my hackles. Still, I had an ace left. I wanted to unsettle this bastard.

  I glanced over at Dannor. He wasn’t looking at me. He was staring at Marie, off to my right. I turned and looked at Marie. She had stripped down to her combat suit and was standing, glaring at Dannor with a level of hatred that made my skin break out with goosebumps.

  She turned to me and n
odded slowly. I had to swallow my heart before I could speak.

  “In the meantime, why don’t we enjoy some entertainment?” I said, turning back to the vamp.

  “What kind of entertainment did you have in mind?” he replied.

  “Oh, something along the lines of a gladiatorial match. See, your bodyguard over there has a history with my wolf. And I would very much like to see her settle the score.”

  The vampire looked at Marie and then turned to Dannor. When he turned back he had a grin on his face.

  “You wish to match her against him?” he said, clearly thinking I was insane.

  “Well, apparently there’s a protocol in these things,” I replied in an offhand manner. “It’s a wolf thing.”

  Marie had walked over to me and was standing, her arms folded over her breasts.

  “Well, if you insist,” said the vamp finally. “It could be trés amusant.”

  Marie turned towards me and looked me straight in the eye. I studied her for a second, looking for any hint that she didn’t want to do this. I found only resolve. I leaned forward until my nose was an inch from hers.

  “Make him pay,” I whispered. “But you don’t necessarily have to hurry, understand?”

  She gave me her cutest smile.

  “For letting me do this,” she whispered, “you’re getting doggy later.”

  I bent further and kissed her lightly.

  “Now it’s your turn, love,” I said. “Become Death, the destroyer of worlds.”

  Her expression went hard, her jaw firm and her eyes cold.

  CHAPTER

  42

  Marie climbed gracefully over the wall and jumped down onto the grass. Dannor was glowering at her as he took off his jacket, revealing a heavily scarred torso that fairly bulged with muscles. Marcus’ smile widened as the two circled each other.

  “I will bend you to my will, my mate,” said Dannor in a low voice.

  “I doubt that, Dannor,” she replied. “I’m no longer your mate, and I never was by choice. My mate now is more male than you’ll ever be. I don’t have to fake the orgasms with him.”