Pagan (MPRD Book 1)

by Andrew Chapman

  She laughed and reached up to stroke her fingers through my hair. I bent to kiss her and she responded eagerly, her tongue darting into my mouth, her hands on the back of my head, pulling me against her.

  “Hey,” she said breathlessly, a wicked glint in her eye. “You wanna go upstairs and see about that deep-throat thing?”

  There was a sudden explosion of coughing off to one side and I looked up to see Liam, twenty feet away, choking and wiping tea off of his jacket.

  “Just how sharp is your brother’s hearing, love?” I asked.

  “Sharp enough!” said Liam, laughing.

  “Well that’s what you get for eavesdropping, brother,” said Marie tartly.

  He shook his head and, laughing ruefully, moved further away.

  “Don’t worry about him,” she said. “It’ll just take him a while to get used to the fact that his little sister has a sex life.”

  She kissed me again and smiled.

  “Especially a sex life that involves so many screaming orgasms and inventive positions.”

  “Oh come on!” said Liam from even further away. “I can still hear you, y’know.”

  “Well quit listening then,” she snapped.

  “You just love winding your brother up, don’t you?” I said and grinned.

  “I have a lot of catching up to do,” she said innocently.

  “Hey Pagan,” yelled Siren from the other side of the fire. “You have a speech for this moment too?”

  I thought about it for a moment.

  “Okay, yeah,” I said and cleared my throat.

  “We shall fight on the seas and oceans, we shall fight with growing confidence and growing strength in the air, we shall defend our island, whatever the cost may be, we shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight in the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight them in the hills; we shall never surrender!”

  The hunters cheered and I noticed a lot of the wolves joining in.

  “Shame you didn’t finish it, Jack,” said Albert somberly as he came back over.

  “Yeah, but even the bit I edited out is appropriate, isn’t it?”

  Albert nodded sagely and then winked at me.

  CHAPTER

  48

  The temperature had taken a dip, falling to near freezing. The forecasts were calling for snow by the end of the week. It had been two days since the battle with the indominati. Wounds were healing; people were getting back on their feet. Patrols were being sent out again.

  Reports were coming in that the vamps were being unusually quiet. Winter, with its longer nights, usually brought an increase in vamp activity, not a decrease.

  Marguerite said that, with one third of the Three effectively taken out, there would be a massive power struggle until someone else rose to fill the vacuum. That would take a while. Vamps gain power slowly and the nearest contenders would be fighting amongst themselves, building power and jockeying for position for months to come.

  Meanwhile, the Ministry was sending a chopper for Marguerite.

  We were sitting in the lounge bar of the Falcon, watching out of the back windows, waiting for the Ministry chopper to arrive. Marie was in the kitchen cooking dinner. She claimed that she just wanted to do something romantic but I get the impression she was actually preparing the meal as a way to celebrate the vampire’s departure and, once she was gone, Marie and I would sit down to a nice meal with delicious hints about things to come. I had no idea what she was making but the smell was about to drive me crazy.

  John and Anna were upstairs in their room. Anna had needed to feed this morning and John was resting and recuperating. Everyone else had moved out, back to wherever they were when this mess started.

  We still didn’t know if the relief force had been delayed by ordinary human stupidity or by enemy action. My money’s on the latter. During the Crimean War, a Russian officer allegedly said that the British Army were “lions led by donkeys”, but even we couldn’t foul up something that bad on our own.

  The silence was broken by a soft beeping. I searched around for a moment and found the source: the little satellite notebook the Ministry had given us.

  I opened it up and acknowledged the ‘message waiting’ signal. When the text started to scroll across the screen I gasped in shock.

  “What is it?” asked Marguerite.

  I started to laugh as I put the notebook down on the table and turned it so she could read:

  Pagan, Sketchy reports coming in concerning three (3) dead vampires found in upstairs bedroom of Havelock Manor after mission. Despite efforts to cover up, one body identified as ‘Johann’ (aka ‘The Marquis de Sang’). Other bodies identified as Tiberius Dollomayor, his second, and Abraham Corlea (aka ‘The Butcher’), high ranking in his organization. Reports indicate Johann was there at invitation of Glavidia to discuss territorial disputes. Congrats, now you just need one more for the complete collection. MPRD I&O. 7NOV 2230hrs

  Marguerite was looking stunned. I knew how she felt. I hadn’t given the three vamps a second look. The idea that one might have been important enough to examine had never occurred to me. Shame.

  “Wow,” she said. “So you killed Glavidia and the Marquis de Sang in the same night? Impressive.”

  “Yeah, I think Lady Lucia must be my biggest fan right now.”

  She gave me a startled look.

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Well, I did bump off her rivals for power. I’m expecting a Christmas card at least.”

  I grinned and looked up as a helicopter roared overhead and started circling.

  “I think that’s your chariot, good lady,” I said as I peered out of the window.

  The chopper settled on the grass behind the car park, its rotors blowing leaves and litter everywhere.

  “Yeah, that’s my ride,” said Marguerite as she picked up her bag.

  “I’ll walk you out,” I said, grabbing my jacket.

  Outside the cold air bit deep and turned our breath into clouds that the stinging wind whipped away.

  “Listen,” I said as we walked around the outside of the car park and down the alley that led to the rear, “thanks for all your help.”

  “You’re welcome, Jack,” said Marguerite.

  “And don’t let those suits at the Ministry push you around, either.”

  “I won’t. Say goodbye to everyone for me, will you?. And thank Anna for all her help.”

  We were about to step out from between the car park and the backyard of the house next door when something struck me as wrong. I grabbed Marguerite’s arm and stopped her.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?” she asked.

  I shook my head and looked around. Then I knew. My MP7 was in the Falcon, empty until I could get more ammo, so I pulled my SIG.

  “That’s not a Ministry chopper,” I said.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The RAF uses AW109s, that’s an AS365. Oh, it’s painted like an RAF helicopter, but it’s not one.”

  I looked into the night sky, searching.

  “And where’s the escort?” I went on. “You’re important enough that they would have sent at least a flight of Apaches to bring you back.”

  I felt something cold touch the back of my neck and heard the sound of a pistol being cocked.

  “I’m sorry, Jack. I really wish you hadn’t been so observant.”

  It was Marguerite’s voice, but gone were the honeyed, seductive undertones. Now she just sounded cold. I sighed and raised my hands.

  “Throw the gun away,” she ordered.

  I tossed the SIG back along the alley, hearing it thump into the grass.

  “Now turn around.”

  I did so, keeping my hands raised, as the vampire stepped back. I could see the pistol she was aiming at me, the bore looking about as big as the channel tunnel.

  “How long have you been playing both sides?” I asked.

  “From the beginning,” she replied.
“You know, it really is a shame you spotted the helicopter. I could have been halfway home by the time the real one turned up. You’d have just thought I’d been kidnapped, right?”

  I shrugged noncommittally.

  “Strong, silent type,” she said sarcastically. “You know, it would have been nice to bed a guy I couldn’t dominate. You may be unique in the whole world, a guy I would actually have to work to please.”

  “Never gonna happen.”

  “Oh, I know that,” she said, and there was a wistful edge to her voice that almost made me feel sympathetic. “Even if I wasn’t a vampire, one look at you and the werewolf told me I didn’t stand a chance. Be careful, Jack. Love like that never lasts. It’s too hot to be sustained for long, it burns too fiercely.”

  “Wow, you say that like you expect me to give a flying fuck about your opinion.”

  She smiled thinly and raised the gun again.

  “Lace your fingers behind your head and step back against the wall.”

  I did as I was told, staring at the gun, getting angrier by the minute.

  “Oh, nice gun, thank you,” she said.

  She’d stolen Marie’s P229, the one I’d given her less than a week ago.

  “See, that was where Marcus made his mistake,” she said. “He liked using the hunters as trophies and came after your woman. I prefer something a little easier to handle. I think this’ll look so fetching when I take over the entire north.”

  Again I said nothing.

  “Oh, come on Jack,” she chided. “No hard feelings, okay? I saved you from Glavidia’s followers and you saved me from Marcus. Let’s call it even, okay?”

  “Even?” I growled. “That fight the other day cost me fifteen good friends!”

  “Ah well, I tried,” she said. “I’m not going to kill you, Jack, unless you do something stupid.”

  “You know I’ll come for the gun. And when I do I’ll kill you,” I said.

  “That would be a shame, Jack,” she replied. “But, you were right, I do still owe you for killing Glavidia and Marcus and everyone else. So, you get to live. Don’t waste it.”

  She lunged forward and I felt something bite into my thigh through the cloth of my trousers. My mind had a split second to register the stun gun she had in her hand before the electricity crackled and every muscle in my body went rigid.

  She stepped away and I fought to remain upright on legs that felt like cooked spaghetti while my mind blurred and my vision tunneled. I collapsed to the ground, my body refusing to cooperate with me on any level.

  The last thing I saw as the darkness took me was Lady Lucia bending down to steal another kiss before leaving.

  EPILOGUE

  “Uncle Jack! Aunt Marie!”

  The little girl who was standing in the doorway waving was a window into the past. From her laughing blue eyes to her wavy blonde air she looked exactly how I imagined Marie must have at that age. She was grinning hugely and jumping up and down. In the military we call that a diversion. I spun just in time to see a gray blur come skidding around the side of the farmhouse and leap at me.

  It hit me in the chest and I staggered back a step. If my feet hadn’t hit the edge of the path and slipped on the snow I would have stayed on my feet. As it was I landed on my back in an ungainly heap, my breath exploding from my lungs. The little werewolf cub was sitting on my chest and enthusiastically licking my face. I looked up at Marie who was laughing so hard I thought she was going to pee herself. The little girl came running out, her hair flying behind her, and leapt on my stomach. The breath I was just managing to catch was forced out of me with a whoosh.

  Marie doubled over, laughing and trying to breathe.

  I grabbed the pair and hugged them.

  “Hi Uncle Jack!” said the girl.

  “Hi Kelly,” I said and gave her a big kiss on the cheek.

  The boy changed in my other arm, fur giving way to a mischievous-looking kid with the same hair and eyes as his sister. He was wearing a miniature version of Marie’s fighting suit, a fashion that had been catching on with the pack.

  “Hi Darryl,” I said.

  “Hi Uncle Jack. Merry Christmas!”

  Yeah, I know. A family of werewolves celebrating Christmas seemed a little odd to me when we were first invited, but it all seems natural now.

  Marie finally recovered and pulled Kelly off me, giving her a bear hug. I managed to get to my feet and, each of us carrying a cub we finished the journey on our feet.

  Inside the door I put Darryl down and he ran into the kitchen, past a beautiful woman who had her hand in front of her face, trying unsuccessfully to hide her laughter. Charlotte was Liam’s wife and, as such, had joined in the family sport of giving me a hard time whenever they could. Everyone called her Charlie.

  “Hi Jack, see they got you this time,” she said.

  “Yeah,” I said, trying to sound grumpy and failing. “Stupid snow everywhere.”

  I peeled off my wet jacket as Marie and Charlie exchanged hugs.

  “Come on in, I’ve a fresh pot made,” she said.

  We kicked off our shoes and went into the kitchen. The smell of turkey cooking made my mouth water.

  “How’s dinner coming?” I asked.

  “Better now I’ve got some help,” said Helen.

  “Okay,” I said, no stranger to being press-ganged into kitchen duty. “What do you need?”

  She passed me a mug of tea and smiled.

  “From you?” she asked. “The only thing I need you to do is get out from underfoot. Liam’s in his workshop. Shoo.”

  There was little point in arguing so I winked at Marie and went down the steps into the basement. There was Liam, bent over a workbench, working on something with some sandpaper.

  “Mornin’ Jack,” he said cheerfully. “They kick you out too?”

  “Yeah, somehow they have the idea that we’re useless in the kitchen,” I said.

  Liam looked pointedly at the damp patches on my jeans.

  “And you’ve been entertaining the little ones again,” he said with a chuckle. “Did they get you down this time?”

  “Oh yes, but only because I slipped on the snow.”

  “Ah, sounds like an excuse to me,” he said.

  “Well, the rate Darryl’s growing he’ll soon be able to knock me on my arse without a run up. Hard to believe I’ve only known him since November.”

  “Yeah, and speaking of which,” he said, ignoring my groan. “When are you and my sister going to start thinking about children?”

  “Don’t start on me, Liam,” I said with a rueful smile. “I’m sure Marie is telling Charlie the same thing upstairs, but we’ll think about children when we’re ready, okay?”

  “Okay, okay,” he said, holding his hands up in surrender.

  “What are you working on?” I asked, changing the subject.

  He held out a tiny carved piece of wood. It was a chess piece, a knight, but the traditional horse-shaped figure had a distinctly lupine look. It was beautifully carved and I could see a chessboard with about a third of the pieces already finished.

  “Nice work,” I said, genuinely impressed.

  “There are rich people out there who pay through the nose for anything made by a werewolf,” he said with a grin.

  “So you’re taking advantage of their stupidity?” I asked with a laugh.

  “Call it an idiot tax,” he said with a shrug. “Takes me about three weeks to knock out a chess set I can sell for enough money to keep the pack in food for two months. And I’m not the only one. One of our females is able to do things with silver you wouldn’t believe. Come on, I’ll show you.”

  He took me upstairs, into the living room. Darryl was sitting in front of the TV, which was showing the 24-hour vampire channel where some smug scumbag was trying to work vampires into the Christmas spirit, claiming that ‘all God’s creatures were blessed on this day’. The scene switched to a church, where vampires were putting on a show of attending Christmas se
rvices with ‘their good friends amongst the human population’. Liam turned the set off in disgust.

  “Darryl, you know I don’t like you watching that rubbish, now run and play,” he said, shooing his son out the door.

  “Yes, dad,” came the reply, dripping in resignation.

  He went to a bookcase and showed me a tiny silver sculpture of a werewolf’s head, no bigger than a thimble, mounted on a tiny wooden plinth. It was exquisite, and so lifelike I caught myself waiting for it to blink.

  “How much do these go for?” I asked.

  “Well, she recently had one about that size go for ten thousand pounds at auction.”

  I whistled and carefully placed the sculpture back on the shelf.

  “Oh, wait, here,” said Liam, taking an envelope down from the mantelpiece above the roaring wood fire. “Someone dropped this off at the Falcon for you a few days back so they brought it up here.”

  I took the envelope and turned it in my hands. The word ‘Jack’ was written in a neat copperplate hand.

  I tore open the flap and pulled out a Christmas card that showed a cheery, snow-covered scene where carol singers were caught in the act of bringing Christmas Cheer And Goodwill To All Men. I opened the card and read the message.

  “Bitch,” I said, under my breath.

  “Who’s a bitch?” said Marie from the door.

  I smiled tightly.

  “Our good friend Lady Lucia,” I said. “She sent me a card. Says ‘No hard feelings, Jack. Have a good Christmas and come play next year.’ And it’s signed ‘Marguerite’.”

  Marie and Liam looked at each other for a long moment.

  “Bitch,” they said in unison.

  I laughed and threw the card on the fire. As the flames curled around the picture, my new family and I sat down to enjoy dinner together.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Andrew Chapman is an English immigrant who lives in Kentucky with his wife and a startlingly insane cat.

  He has wanted to write this novel for over twenty years, ever since he read a so-called young adult novel in which a teenage vampire saved the heroine from some terminal disease or other. His book report asked the question “since when did the vampires get to be the good guys?”