Logan sighed. “Sugar, I think you may be on to something.” He drew her close, wrapping her in his arms one more time.
Chapter 17
The rumble of a war cry echoed through the ranks as slaves took up arms on that fateful evening. A thick fog was rolling in as Shadow Company led their first attack against the Sultan’s guards. The flare they’d sent up as a signal proved useful in the gloomy winter night.
Swarms of laborers, some clutching nothing more than their hoes and sickles charged the main garrison Shadow Company discovered below Nybbas’ mansion.
Inside, Jessie found her parents. Tied and gagged, they were strapped to a roughhewn table in shackles. The Sultan had tortured them, and she vowed to make him pay. Grateful for the few minutes she had with her mother and father, she figured the next time she saw them would be in Cheniere Station. Gathering Meagan and her parents, she guided them to the secret passage out of the mansion. “I want you to be careful and get across as quickly as possible. Don’t even consider trying to stay and help with this battle. Just get the hell out of here.”
Nodding, Meagan took her mother’s hand and slipped down the corridor.
Jessie gained a new appreciation for the young woman, Meagan as she and Nybbas went with Meagan’s family. The reunions were short lived as another wave of the guard swarmed the nearby forest.
“It’s the Sultan. He’s appeared.” Nybbas whirled, his eyes glazed with anger. “I have to stay and help.”
“No. Your mission is to get my family and Meagan’s back across the veil. Do you understand, Nybbas?”
Slowly, Nybbas nodded.
“Stay with them and help Meagan tend their needs. Can I count on you?”
He straightened. His expression held a newly minted purpose. “You can count on me.”
“Good.” One last embrace and the refugees disappeared out the escape route. Jessie disappeared into the darkness as well.
High atop a hill, the Sultan’s horse reared again and again. His robes billowed in the breeze of an icy December evening. The small band of warriors watched as the Sultan held the amulet high above his head to rally his troops. A cry of support came from the hoard of guards obeying his demands.
“This could end badly.” Katie’s observation didn’t go unnoticed. “We should do something.”
“Easy, darling.” Duke narrowed his eyes at the view of their nemesis atop the hill. The guard’s battle cries rang in their ears. “We have to wait.”
“Wait! Wait for what? That bastard to destroy us all?” She ground down on her molars.
“Let me take care of this.” Jessie’s voice startled the two of them.
“Shouldn’t you be getting your family out of here?” The question became rhetorical as Duke examined the situation in front of them.
“I’ll draw their fire. You guys do your thing. Okay?” Jessie waited a beat for confirmation. “Good. Let’s do this.”
Before anyone could object, she vaulted toward the hill.
Baring his teeth, the Sultan’s dark expression centered on her advance. He directed nearby sentinels to attack. The first of several reached her with blades drawn. Blood sprayed through the air in a fine crimson mist as she took the head of the first attacker. She buried her fist in the stomach of the newcomer, giving that one a broken neck before he could spear her with his sword. The last guard hesitated briefly. That was all she needed to dispatch him to his demise.
Jessie adjusted her headset, pulling Logan’s gift of a lip microphone closer to her mouth. Her opponent would most certainly underestimate her, but she wasn’t going to make the same mistake. “Warlock, do you copy?”
“Roger,” Logan said as he confronted the second wave of the guard.
“On these coordinates. Send the charge to this spot.”
The explosion rocked her. Near the ground where she had stood moments before, a huge hole appeared. She looked up and into the eyes of the evil one. Teeth bared, the Sultan welded a weapon of some size and power. The blade grazed her arm in a weak attempt at a strike.
Stunned, the Sultan staggered backward. Staring at the blade in his hand, he blinked wildly about.
“You’re wondering what just happened, aren’t you, ol’ boy?” Her sarcastic reference didn’t sit well with the Sultan. His eyes blazed in his drawn features. Jessie couldn’t help the satisfied laugh that bubbled up inside her. “The amulet is an expensive piece of costume jewelry now, Sultan. It doesn’t work for you or anyone else. All its magic is gone.” She waited for his reaction.
The meltdown erupted in a skin searing, eye blinding fury. He struggled to hurl the fireball sputtering in his hand at her. A wicked heat singed her eyebrows but did little else as Jessie sidestepped his magic.
“Is that all you’ve got, Sultan?” Clucking her tongue against her teeth, Jessie poised and carefully gauged the perfect swing. The force behind her blow sent the Sultan tumbling backward with an intensity so strong, the trees at his back gave under the blow snapping like twigs. The Sultan lay, a crumpled lump of caftan and robes, his mouth agape as his eyes rolled back in his head.
The battle raged below Jessie as she snatched up the unconscious Sultan. He wore the amulet around his neck. Its gems gleamed in the moon light. “Now who’s the fool?” she chided. With a calculated move, she skirted the remainder of the trees in hopes of a quick exit.
The bombs’ detonation pushed her forward. Off the charts as far as decimals, the blast catapulted Jessie off the ground, sending her hurdling through space.
Chapter 18
The elder’s name was Georphal. A boney version of Jack Palance, J.T. mused. His black suit of silk was unusual for a vampire’s frame, though well made, it rattled J.T.’s image of a blood sucker. Examining the deep-set eyes over a square chin gave him the impression of a rouge warrior holding down the realm until the fateful day another challenged his claim. The fellow’s expression registered stoic curiosity.
“Such tedious business this,” he said with a slight curve to his pasty lips. “Care for a drink?” Georphal gestured toward a sideboard laden with crystal decanters and weighty glass bottles of expensive wines.
“Thanks.” As long as they were sizing each other up, J.T. surveyed the elder’s cagy eyes he remembered studied him with. This was no store front politician. The elder led with an iron hand over the council. A suggestion he had trouble among the ranks of that council was a claim he took seriously. Recalling his background, J.T. surmised this elder may hold a glimmer of hope for truth and justice. Georphal claimed the northern coven as his own. All the ice castles and craggy water inlets of Norway, Iceland, and the Netherlands belonged to him. He saw the instability forming among the southern covens and wondered if this slayer was the answer to his concerns. It was a start.
“Pray tell, what is your proof of the Sultan’s crimes against this council?” Georphal steepled his boney fingers on his elaborately carved desk.
“First a little background. The Sultan made me a vampire over three years ago. I was a soldier in the United States Navy stationed in Afghanistan. He came to me with intel on the enemy. Little did I know at the time, his true identity.” J.T. took a sip of the whiskey Georphal offered.
“The Sultan is your maker?” Georphal’s white brow winged up. “You realize, crimes against the council must have more than circumstantial evidence before we can charge a member with treason.” The elder’s face, set in grime lines, showed a benign sense of belief in J.T.’s claim so far.
“I’m well aware of the rules.” Brushing minuscule lent from his sleeve, J.T. purposely waited. He rather enjoyed the chance at stirring the pot when it came to diplomatic BS which passed as council diplomacy. “I became the Sultan’s blood slave. Rather than utilize my kills for food or propagation purposes, he ordered me to drain the victims to near death and then turn them over to him.”
Georphal’s interest level rose. “Go on, please.”
“The Sultan chose to use the victims for his own financial gain
as well as to satisfy a fetish of his. You see, the Sultan is a piteous voyeur. He jerks off watching his collection of souls perform deviant behaviors for his pleasure.”
The elder’s expression held a mild degree of disgust. “What he does behind closed doors is not the council’s concern.”
J.T. expected this reaction. “Has he told the council of his little enterprise on the side, I wonder?”
Now, Georphal’s brow knitted. “What enterprise?”
J.T. couldn’t subdue the tight grin of satisfaction. “He’s selling victims on the black market. The millions of dollars this slave trade is bringing in is laundered through covert operators located in a small town called Cheniere Station, Louisiana.” Leaning back against the expensive leather chair, J.T. waited. “Bet you didn’t know that one, did you?”
The elder’s gnarled hands resting on the desk fisted in tight white balls. His eyes glowed red in the torch light. The only two signs his anger was topping out. “I need bodies, or shadow walkers or something physical to present to the council. Can you provide such?”
“Certainly. I’ve come prepared with names, dates, and places. All logged and confirmed. Did I mention the forty some odd witnesses? Oh, and by the way. The vampires I’ve eliminated were associates of the Sultan’s. So, you’re welcome.”
The smug little lift to his mouth proved enjoyable for J.T. Satisfied he had drawn the Sultan into a quagmire he wouldn’t soon escape, J.T. rose, heading for the door. “I’ll have one of my associates bring the proof by shortly. Until then, I have some unfinished business regarding my maker. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll take my leave.” The formal tone coupled with the sweep of his arm as he bowed to the high elder set a theatrical tone of respect J.T. played off as sincere. What he wanted to tell ol’ Georphal was simply to go fuck himself.
***
“He’s coming.” The tiny voice whispered in J.T.’s ear held the flutter of nerves. “He’s coming to kill you, vampire.”
J.T. woke with a shudder. The clammy air filled his lungs as his chest constricted. No two pieces of truth formed before his eyes. Where was he? Swallowing hard, he flung his legs over the bed’s side. Unable to remember how he’d gotten to the room he was in, he stood, letting the sounds and lights dancing about the place congeal into a solid reason for his being there.
As his muddled mind began the slow process of remembering the appointments of the overly done Victorian bedroom, J.T. snatched up his pants, shoving his legs inside. “Jessie?” A ripe fear gripped him. Muttering curses, he scanned the room for her or any of her belongings. How had he gotten to the mansion? Why? The Sultan must be behind his being there. He sat hard on the side of the bed. Pride wared with reason as he decided he was in a world of shit. No weapons, no means of protection other than his own wits, and he had no idea where Jessie or any of Shadow Company was at that moment.
Until he could figure out what the Sultan’s plans were, he would have to survive the only way he knew how, with his own skills as a vampire.
The last thing he remembered was leaving Georphal’s office. More curses as he racked his brain for the lost memory of what had happened after he left the elder’s sanctuary.
Static filled the air as images appeared on the wall. Jessie stood on a hill overlooking the burned-out slave camp. “What the hell? What’s she doing?” Horns blared as wave after wave of the Sultan’s guards charged the hill. “Get out of there! Jessie, run!” Bolting for the door, J.T. came up short when the doorknob wouldn’t budge. “Mother fucker!” Wheeling, he searched for anything he could use to pry open the door. Something to break the panel. Had to find a way out!
War cries went up as the images raced up the steep embankment like ants bent on destruction. Flashes lit the sky as bombs exploded. Body parts flew through the air. Blood and flesh rained down in a sickening shower.
Jessie stood her ground, her chin held high, her shoulders square, her armor glinting in the light of a full moon.
“Wait. Jessie’s clad in Kevlar.” J.T. stopped cold. “Thank the gods!” He watched with anxious attention as the Sultan’s warriors grew closer and closer. Still, she didn’t grasp her amulet and get ready to leave. “Get out of there girl. Use your amulet.” He closed his eyes, pleading with the gods to save her. Raking a hand through his hair, he rocked in place. Got to get out! The realization came in a heart wrenching second. “The amulet – she’s not wearing the amulet! Nooooooo!”
Clawing at the stone cloaked windows, he did his best to break free. Seconds, minutes ticked away. Still, he couldn’t get out. The wall, repaired from his earlier tirade, proved impenetrable. His vision blurred as the moments dissipated like water through a sieve. His mind raced as his eyes darted to every corner of the newly minted prison.
The images on the wall shifted. Screams coming from the top of the hill or perhaps the other side grew in volume. Refugees appeared on either side of Jessie. The hill was soon filled with the Sultan’s former slaves turned militia. The hunted at long last become the hunters.
Then, he saw them. Standing on the ridge, Shadow Company examined the battlefield. The warlock, forged in battle, braced as he prepared to take on the unholy one. Logan’s fortitude lay in his determined skill. Next to him stood Duke. Faithful friend and team member. Though merely mortal, Duke believed in justice. His power resided in his courage. Katie, Duke’s girl as well as Aubrie’s best friend stood fast. When things got tough, Katie moved into action. Cool and calculating. Underestimating her was a mistake. Finally, Aubrie, the seer transformed into the warrior, Valcura. Prepared to face the one who made her, she held her ground.
A new and clearer realization crystalized in his brain. J.T. understood. Shadow Company would stand for the team and him. Each one of their little band of warriors moved in to defend one of their own.
The images wavered, then swam before abruptly blinking out. “No. Not now.” He dropped to his knees. The sensation of loss choked his senses. Where was the justice? He whirled, heading for the door.
The door opened as he reached out. Baffled, but wasting no time, he blurred into space. The transfer took less than the blink of an eye. He met her as she charged a full-blown attack. Jessie shifted, giving him, an urgent grin filled with happiness and relief at seeing him.
“I wondered when you’d decide to show up.” The sparkle in her mocha eyes transferred to the satisfied smile on those pouty lips of hers.
Her wicked confidence shook him. “Jessie, I’m so sorry.”
Breathless, her smile widened. “I know. I have so much to tell you. But for now, this will have to do.” Charged static filled the air as she reached for him. A heated pain seared his insides as their lips met. Swamped with the driving nature of the pain, he tried to free his mouth from hers. Electricity filled the air as energy crackled around them.
Her voice came to him. “Don’t struggle, J.T. I want to save you. Just let go. Trust me.”
Did he? Did he just let go? Did he trust her to save them both? Or, would he allow doubt to filter into the moment. There were enemies to kill, after all.
She gathered momentum, spinning them both faster and faster. The electromagnetic pull in the air slashed and arced in rapid reaction to the force of the wind.
J.T. held on. Lighting spears etched the sky. The G-force accelerated substantially as a magnetic pull of the time continuum pressed him to her. He marveled at the strength of focus she displayed. Her hair flew wild and free all around them. Still, he held on.
Jessie’s lips never left his as her eyelids fluttered shut. He heard her speaking to him telepathically again. “Relax, it’s easier if you relax.”
Easy for her to say, he mused. The urge to grab her forcibly and rocket out of there was tangible. His errant mind could think of nothing else but escape at first. Despite her words of reassurance, J.T. grappled with the idea he must defend her. The bracing wind caught them up in its vortex, hurling them through time. Unable to stop the hard-hitting power of the phenomenon, he focused on h
er and shielding her by his own stringent nature. Yet the longer he remained, J.T. found the sensation of being bond to Jessie welcoming. He was grateful for the oneness he found in her arms. So as the world spun in a gravitational chaos, he witnessed Jessie’s gift. Fire sizzled in a ring around them, flames licking higher and higher. The time travel paradox unfolded like a rose opening in slow motion. Melded together, J.T. sensed the mounting pressure of an explosion. Hot and heavy, the air compressed its very existence in the moment.
Warriors continued to advance, yet the fire ring held them at arm’s length. Alarmed at their proximity, J.T. made one last attempt at defending.
“No!” Jessie’s mind came to him in a millisecond. “Let this happen.”
J.T. had one coherent thought race through his muddled mind. “Jessie, don’t do this!”
The explosion flung them into the night sky at a skin-peeling rate unlike anything he had experienced before. Lights, presumably stars, blurred in a kaleidoscope of color as the two of them catapulted into space. With the ease of gravity’s pull, J.T. felt the pressure relax as his body separated from hers. Electricity still crackled about them. The sense of levitating replaced the burden of the gravitation density. He watched her float in surreal animation. Gone were the bonds that held them, yet she did not drop or frantically scramble to clutch his arm in support.
A smile of pure love shown on her face, the face of his Jessie. “We did it,” she said.
A moment passed before his mind caught up with her meaning. After-shocks rippled beneath their vantage point. Taking stock of the aftermath below, J.T. had to agree. “You did it, Jessie. You saved us all! You truly did!”
She shook her head. Long black hair relaxed as the sky stilled and the wind died down. “No, we did it, J.T. You and I together.”
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