Return of the Phoenix - 01 (21 page)

19

Nadia lay curled next to Jack in his bed and he swore that he could feel the heat from her radiating off in waves. She had a fine sheen of perspiration across her forehead and in the waning light, she never looked more beautiful. He remembered being shocked that she had been a virgin, yet had no inhibitions with him. It was as if she had mentally given herself to him long b
efore she ever gave herself to him physically. He glanced further down and saw the faint hint of a smile on her face. It made him smile and he wrapped his arm tighter around her. She was his now. And he was hers. They were mated.

For all intent and purpose, she was his wife. As far as the wolves and vampires were concerned, they were married. They were bonded by something far stronger than any piece of paper or legally binding government recognized agreement could ever make them. He sighed as he realized, his life was hers. They were forever bound…and as he stared at her lying against him, he knew without doubt, that he wouldn’t have it any other way.

He thought he would feel…different, somehow. That the bonding process would do something to him magical that he could detect. But, in all honesty, it was
just
world class, toe curling, fantastic, lovemaking with the woman of his dreams. If you had to debase it, that is.

He couldn’t express the mix of emotions he felt, because he did feel very strongly for Nadia, but he expected something spectacularly magical to occur as soon as they did it. And ho
nestly, he was somewhat disappointed when it didn’t. But she didn’t seem to be. She came back for more, and more, and more until they were both exhausted.

He ran his finger across her shoulder and watched as goose bumps appeared across her arm. He smiled as she groaned and rolled closer to him. “Stop. It tickles.”

“I can’t stop staring at you.”

“Sleep,” she said. “The moon will call us soon.”

“I thought the pills would prevent that?”

“It does, but the moon still calls,” she said, looking up into his eyes. “Have you not felt the restlessness of late? The u
nease?”

Jack chuckled. “I thought it was sexual tension from seeing your perfect form naked!” he teased.

She smiled at him and cuddled closer to him. “The moon still calls, even if we prevent you from answering.”

“So, if we pull this off and you can control the wolf during the moon’s call…could you control me if I shifted?” Jack asked carefully.

Nadia stiffened perceptively under Jack’s arm. “Why would you ask such a thing?”

“I want to change with you…”

“And I want you to remain you, Jack.”

Jack sighed. “I feel like I’m missing out on the biggest part of being a wolf.”

“Perhaps if you were natural born, then you would be. But there is a reason why all created werewolf call it a curse.”

Jack simply nodded but Nadia could tell that he didn’t agree. Perhaps it was because he had failed to take the bane for so many days and now he could feel the pull of the coming moon so much more intensely. Or perhaps it was because they had found each other, but for whatever reason, his wolf was cal
ling him. Strongly. Perhaps if she could show him, just how bad the Halfling truly was? Maybe then he would not desire it so deeply. In her heart, she knew that what she planned was wrong, but if it saved Jack from trying to experience the shift and becoming the Halfling, it would be worth the betrayal.

*****

Senator Franklin stared at his Rolex. It looked exactly as he remembered. So why did he have it repaired? This was driving him crazy. He felt like he was missing parts of his life and he still felt like there was something he needed to do, but, for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out what it was. It tickled his brain like an itch he couldn’t reach, and it drove him nearly insane.

Franklin decided not to return to the office. The time it had taken him to navigate to the jeweler and then back, fighting the D.C. traffic and having to stop to clear his head twice, he felt as though his mind was splitting. Home. He would go home. Pe
rhaps the answers he was seeking lay there.

Franklin made the drive as the sun was setting, and he r
emembered looking out the window of the Ritz Carlton in his fog and not knowing if the sun was coming up or going down. The redhead’s curves flashed through his mind and his arousal angered him once more. He pictured her walking back from the bathroom with her overly large penis and became even more aroused and even more angered. He yelled and beat the steering wheel of his car. He refused to be a closet homo, dammit!

To a passing vehicle, he may have seemed crazy or simply upset at a sports team score, but Franklin didn’t care what he looked like to other people. He was losing his mind and he couldn’t take it anymore. He screamed until his voice was a screech and his throat was sore. He thrashed his head until his perfectly coifed hair was tossed. He beat the steering wheel until his hands throbbed, the whole time his car swerved dangerously from his lane to the next and back.

Somehow, he made it to his home and pulled into his oyster shell drive. He pulled the car around the back of the house and parked outside the garage. He didn’t even wait to put the vehicle away, he simply shut off the engine and darted into the house, escaping to something familiar. To something warm and inviting and safe.

Franklin shut the door behind him and locked it. The gloom of the old house engulfed him and the silence was deafening. No children echoing in the hallways, no wife to prepare dinner. Not even a housekeeper anymore. He had a Mexican woman who came in twice a week to clean and do laundry while he was at his office. He didn’t mind paying her for her duties, but he never wanted to actually
see
her.

He shuffled off to his office and collapsed behind his desk. With his head in his hands, he began to sob.
Of all the things I’ve lost, I miss my mind the most,
he thought. He knew he had heard that somewhere before, but he couldn’t remember where. Perhaps on television. A t-shirt at the beach? A poster? He sobbed harder. He couldn’t tell what was going on now that his once great mind was failing him. Between his sobs he had a horrible thought…
what if this is what Alzheimer’s is like?
If this were the beginnings of the dreaded disease, would he even know it?

“Bad day at the office, senator?”

Franklin nearly jumped out of his skin at the voice. It took him a moment to recognize Damien’s voice as his son slowly stepped from the shadows of the hallway. The sun had set while Franklin had his pity party. “Son. I didn’t hear you.”

“Obviously,” Damien deadpanned.

“What brings you by so early?” Franklin asked, trying to wipe away the evidence of his breakdown.

“Seriously?” Damien asked, sitting across from his father. “Well, I just thought I’d stop by and we could catch up on things,
dad.
”

“Oh,” Franklin replied, trying to straighten himself up somewhat. “Isn’t that nice? I’m so happy to see you, son. Would you care for a drink?” he asked, standing and preparing himself a Jack and Coke.

“Got any O-positive?” Damien asked with raised brows.

Franklin startled, then paused. “You know that I don’t, son. But I do have a nice cognac.”

“Cut the chit chat already, will you? Did you get what you needed from Mitchell?”

Franklin froze. Mitchell? His mind began racing…Mitchell needs…he needs…he…needs drones. And a satellite to…be able to perform his mission. “Mitchell?” Franklin asked. “Mitchell? Mitchell needs…he needs…Mitchell needs drones, son.” Fran
klin turned around, his eyes desperate, “He
has
to have the drones or his mission will
fail!
” He slammed his drink down on the table.

Damien stared at him and then slowly raised an eyebrow. “You have got to be shitting me.”

“No. He does. He has to…”

“He fucking got to you.”

“What?”

“Mitchell fucking got to you,” Damien said, coming around the desk to stand directly in front of his father. He grabbed him by the face and stared into his eyes. “For fuck’s sake. He brai
nwashed you, you weak-minded idiot.”

“What?!” Franklin was aghast. “You can’t speak to me that way, I am still your father!”

“Shut up and sit down!” Damien commanded. Franklin immediately sat, looking up expectantly. Damien chuckled. “I have no idea what they used, but apparently, you’re still under the influence.” Damien pulled out a cell phone. “Don’t move!” he commanded, pointing a finger directly in his father’s face.

He dialed a number and waited. “I need help. Mitchell got to him.” After a moment, “Yeah, fucking brainwashed him. Cooked him. Probably chemical. I doubt he’s got a born vamp working for him.” Damien nodded, then turned and looked down at his father who was still staring straight forward. He shook his head in disgust. “Okay, I can do that. Be there in an hour. Thanks.”

Damien sighed and stuffed the phone back in his pocket. “Time for you and me to have a little quality father-son time, pop.” He picked up Franklin and laid him over his shoulder. Damien opened the second floor window and jumped down to the yard, gently touching down. He walked to the backyard fence and cleared it with a quick jump. Behind the house and waiting for Damien was a black SUV with dark tinted windows. He opened the back door and shoved Franklin in the back, then slipped in behind the wheel.

“No worries, old man. I know somebody who can get you back to your old self in no time. You’ll be back to your old back-stabbing ways and kissing hands and shaking babies before you know it. Then we can get you back to bringing Mitchell to his knees.”

*****

“Team Leader, this is OpCom actual.”

“Go for Team Leader.”

“We have eyes on the target. We’re uploading visuals to your portables. You’re not going to like this, Apollo.”

“Let me guess, Colonel. Rock troll?”

“Negative. We’ve got no record of anything like this one, Team Leader. I hate to say this, but you are on your own this time.”

Apollo turned to Lamb. “Looks like you’re out twenty bucks, Ron!” he yelled into the coms over the roar of the transport.

“Not a rock troll?” Lamb asked.

“Unknown type. They’re uploading visuals from the sat feeds.”

The squads all turned their wrists and tapped their uplinks. Pictures of the beast started downloading to their ruggedized PDA’s. It was approximately thirty-five to forty feet tall, naked and had three digits on each hand. It appeared to be covered in growths that looked similar to giant warts.

“If that don’t look like something from a B-movie,” Jacobs breathed.

“No shit,” Donovan added. “Check out that cranial ridge. Sumbitch is gonna have an armor-plated skull. I don’t know if depleted uranium could pierce that forehead!”

“DU rounds shoot
through
tanks, Donnie. You don’t think it will go through this guy’s noggin’?” Tracy asked.

“Maybe through an orbital socket, but look at how small those eyes are. They don’t stand still long enough for that kind of shot,” Donnie answered.

“Wonder how thick his skin is?” Popo pondered.

The yellow light came on indicating it was time to prepare to jump and the jumpmaster started getting them prepped and ready to exit.

“I’ll find out for you, Popo,” Padre said. “I brought my pig-sticker,” he said, patting his
katana
. “Never leave home without it.

The jumpmaster had the jump doors open and their static lines attached. When the light switched to green, he started shouting to the squad, “Go! Go! Go!” and they streamed out of the plane and into the fading light.

As their chutes opened, each man scanned the night sky for his squad mates, then, when he was sure that all were accounted for, began scanning the ground for the monster in question. Each began negotiating his chute to bring him closer to the target, but Hank had a different plan. Trolls being stupid and slow to react, Hank intended to land
on
the monster. “Team Leader, MS3, I need a distraction.”

Apollo wasn’t expecting anything this soon. The game plan was simply to distract the monster until the Apaches arrived and bomb the bastard into oblivion. “What’s your plan, Three?”

“I’m going to find out how thick this thing’s skin is. But I need you to draw its attention low with fire. Preferably while you’re still in the air and the moment you hit the ground.”

Apollo mulled it over a moment. It usually takes both hands to steer these chutes, but one could possibly handle the P90 and still maneuver for landing. “We’re on it. Team Leader to all squad members, concentrate fire low on the tango. Let’s give Three the distraction he needs.”

Apollo received numerous ‘Roger that’, ‘Copy Team Leader’ and ‘Affirmative’ replies. The moment they were within any kind of effective range, they opened fire. Hank had maneuvered his chute to descend slower than the rest in the hopes that he could come in high and then try to land on the monster’s shoulder. Instead, he landed square on the beast’s head, his chute collapsing over its face. Hank disconnected his chute while the beast was still trying to figure out why it couldn’t see and used his survival knife to bite into the side of its head and slide down to the shoulder. He popped a phosphorus grenade and shoved it as deep into its ear as he could, hearing a sickening sucking and pop when he pulled his arm free. It was covered in something disgusting that could only be described as centuries old wax, oil, and filth, and it smelled of dead flesh. Just as the first pop and hiss of the grenade going off was heard and the flash of light shone, lighting up the side of its head, Hank jumped,
katana
in hand.