Wayward Son (20 page)

Mitchell inhaled deeply and stared at the list again. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to do a little something. Maybe throw something together to honor those who fell.” He handed Jericho the list back and gave him a solemn nod. “Make it happen. Keep me informed.”

“Thank you, Colonel.” Jericho turned to leave when Mitchell cleared his throat, grabbing the man’s attention again.

“Captain, keep something in mind as you put this together.” Mitchell’s eyes indicated the seriousness of what he was about to say. “I was serious when I said that we could be attacked at any moment. However you set this up, keep that first and foremost in your mind. Don’t do this any place that could put our people at any further risk. Don’t let them get isolated or sealed in. Don’t—”

“Understood, sir,” Jericho interrupted. “We’ll keep it brief.”

“I don’t mean to take away from what you’re trying to do, Captain. Hell, I understand and appreciate it.” Mitchell stood slowly and approached the man. “I’m just not ready to lose anybody else.”

Jericho nodded as he reached for the door. “Understood, sir.”

Colonel Mitchell watched the young officer leave and contemplated everything that had occurred over the past few days. Losing Apollo to a twisted psycho. Having the squads attacked on their home turf. The loss of a squad member and numerous support personnel. Jack returning with a handful of ‘others’. Sullivan’s sister showing up out of the blue and being a friggin’ vampire for shit sake.

Mitchell turned and instinctively reached for the bottle of scotch he had kept hidden before realizing he had volunteered it for Mark’s surgery. He fell into his chair as the realization of how close he had come to losing his best friend hit home. He watched his hands shake as he reached for the coffee pot.
Just what I need. More caffeine.

*****

Paul Foster sat back in the overstuffed leather seat of Rufus’ jet. He swirled the mixed animal blood in the large snifter and inhaled deeply. It still surprised him that it could smell and taste so similar to human blood. He just had to remind himself to
sip it
and not gulp.

Foster lifted his eyes and watched as Rufus sat back, eyes closed in the chair opposite him. “Tired?”

“
Non
.” Rufus barely moved as the plane shot through the air and crossed the Atlantic.

“Afraid of flying then?”

Rufus actually snorted a quick laugh and shook his head. “Thinking.” He opened his eyes and seemed to study his brother a moment. “If the meeting with the Council were not already set, I believe I would not attempt this now.”

“Bad timing?” Foster sat forward, his voice low and conspiratorial. “Afraid that this ordeal with the human hunters has cast a shadow of bad luck on your endeavors?”

Rufus exhaled hard and shrugged. “
Oui un non.
The timing is right, your Damien has seen to that. This is our best chance to convince the Council that they need us alive more than dead.” He turned and stared out the window at the dark waters crossing below. “But I also think that perhaps having my Second turn against me at such a critical time…”

“
I
am your Second now, brother.” Paul sat upright and squared his shoulders. “Or did you intend for my position to only be temporary until you could get your dog back under your control?” The venom in his voice did not go unnoticed.

Rufus shook his head, a pained smile crossing his features. “Your standing as my Second is not in question, brother. I fear that my judgment may be questioned though since I appointed Jack to that position only to have him turn on me.”

Paul nodded as he sat back. “Your point is conceded. But I don’t think you have anything to worry about. At least, not with your own people.”

“It is the Council I worry about.”

“They needn’t know.” Paul set the snifter of blood aside and crossed his legs. “All they need to know is that you appointed me as your new Second. If they are so rude as to inquire why, simply remind them that blood is thicker than…well…Milkbones.” He chuckled at his own joke.

Rufus gave him a wan smile and turned back to the window. “What are the odds, dear brother?”

“Odds of what?” Paul picked up his snifter again and took a small sip.

“That Monsieur Thompson will be waiting for us in Geneva?” He turned slowly and watched Foster pale as the realization sunk in. “He does know my plans. He knows how important this meeting is. He knows that regardless of anything else that may or may not be happening, I would need to attend this meeting. If I were a betting man, I would assume that he would be there waiting for us.”

Paul swallowed hard and shook his head. “We brought security. We should be…I mean…” He turned a worried look to Rufus.

Rufus nodded. “
Exactement
.”

*****

Apollo slept fitfully in the small bed. Images of Maria and the Padre continuously replayed through his mind and he ground his teeth as he tossed his blanket to the floor. Sweat formed on his brow and he gripped the metal edges of the cot as he fought the urge to scream. He could see her wrapping her arms around the other man then lean in to kiss him and Apollo wanted to shoot them both for the betrayal. He saw Marshall in his dream, sneaking about, watching the two as they stripped down and danced the dance of lovers.

Apollo sat up in the small bed with a start, his mind racing as he stared into the darkness, his mind attempting to gather its bearings. He forced himself to slow his breathing and swung his legs off the edge of the bed. His throat was dry and he needed to walk off some of this nervous energy.

He went to the water cooler and swallowed three large cups of the chilled liquid, feeling some of the nervousness slip as he rehydrated. He leaned against the wall and shook his head. “Get a grip, man. Get a grip.”

He pushed off the wall and stepped out of the makeshift barracks. Seeing a light on in the office that he shared with Sheridan, he made his way towards the structure. As he got closer, he could hear Sheridan talking, but he couldn’t quite make out what he was saying. He was purposely keeping his voice low, and Apollo immediately became suspicious. He crept along the outer wall and approached the door of the office, his ears straining to listen.

“So he didn’t actually give you an answer?” Bigby asked.

“Not in so many words, mate, but I’d bet Aunt Molly’s knickers he’s in.” Sheridan sounded extremely sure of himself. “A man like Apollo doesn’t have many options once you’ve removed him from the squads. What’s he going to do, serve hamburgers and chips at a local fast food drive in?” The two laughed and Apollo felt his hackles rise.

“Well, let’s say that he takes you up on your offer. What will we do with him?”

Apollo shifted slightly and could see Sheridan sitting in his favorite swivel chair. “I told him he’d be a full partner.”

“Hey now, I’m not keen on splitting the profit three ways.” Bigby sounded angry and Apollo didn’t blame him.

“Who said he’d be an even partner?” Sheridan laughed. “No, my friend, Apollo is a fine warrior, but he isn’t exactly someone you want to stick into a suit and have represent your company, now is he?”

“The same could be said for me, mate.”

“That’s why
you’re
a silent partner.” Sheridan swiveled his chair and tossed something to Bigby. “This is where I’ve got our goods stored. Tomorrow I want you to go by and secure the location.”

“What will you be doing?”

“I’ll be here doing what I do best, keeping the men in line and keeping Mr. Williams distracted. And, hopefully, setting up our next operation.”

Bigby sighed and hopped off the chair, his feet making a thud when he hit the floor. “Fine, I’ll secure the gear. You just make sure the next gig we get is less threatening and pays better.”

“Don’t you worry, mate,” Sheridan assured. “Any life threatening activities we’ll leave for our friend Mr. Williams.”

Apollo slipped away from the office and worked his way back to the barracks. As he got back into his cot, he caught the door opening with his peripheral vision and watched as Bigby worked his way through the other beds and fall into his own cot.

Apollo lay awake and stared at the ceiling. Besides having been manipulated, now he was being played.
I think it’s time Sheridan had a fatal accident.

*****

  Little John paced the lounge, practically wearing a hole in the flooring. Spalding approached him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “What’s the deal?”

John looked down at the man and the tension on his face nearly made Spalding take a step back. “They’ve been in there for too long.”

“Who and what? Slow down and take it from the beginning.”

John took a deep, cleansing breath then did his best to tell Spalding the entire story of how he had been ordered to take Brooke to the interrogation room and then a fellow he had never met before came in and took over. Once Spalding heard the name, he broke into a slow and deliberate smile. He held up a hand to stop the larger man and tried to calm him. “Look, John…Jack’s good people. If he’s in there with her, then you can take a deep breath and relax. I’ve known the man forever and he’s…well…”

“Well, what?” John looked like he was about to blow a gasket.

“I’d trust him with my life.” Spalding shrugged. “He’s a four-oh, squared away kind of guy. He doesn’t have any kind of axe to grind.”

“But what if he hates vampires or what if he…”

“He works for a vampire.” Spalding interrupted. John paused and stared at him wide-eyed. “Yeah, I know. Pretty tough one to swallow, but yeah. He left here, got married, moved off and took a job working for a vampire. One of those
Beastia
guys I told you about. So, if anybody knows vamps, it’s Jack.”

John gave Spalding a disbelieving look and shook his head. “I still don’t like it.”

Darren smiled and pulled the larger man over to the couch. “Sit down, relax. Take a load off and try to trust me. If anybody can reach her, it’s Jack.”

John slumped into the couch and stared at the door. “I still don’t like it.”

“I’m sure she won’t either.” Spalding grinned at him.

*****

Damien slowly picked himself up from the floor. His head spun as he tried to get his bearings and his arms felt weak as he propped himself up and slowly looked around. The candles lay in melted puddles near where he had placed them and the windows of the warehouse had been blown out. Something violent had taken place and he missed the show.

Slowly, he rolled to his side and looked about. The tub of blood was laid over, its contents congealing on the cold concrete floor, the edges drying into a reddish brown mess. He leaned against a concrete support column and rubbed at his neck while his body tried to heal, his eyes taking in all of the damage to the building.

“You survived.”

He spun and looked for the source of the voice and wished he hadn’t been so quick. His head spun and his breathing was labored as he searched her out. “Barely, it feels like.” He stepped from the column and into the brighter fluorescent overhead lighting. “What happened?”

Lilith stepped from the shadows and his eyes drank her in as she moved like liquid silk across the floor. Her movements reminded him of a large cat stalking prey. “The spell is complete.”

“Spell?” He gave her a quizzical look then his damaged mind remembered. “Oh, yeah. Your legion…”

“They have arrived.” Her smile disarmed him and he felt a newfound fear form in the pit of his stomach.

“W-where…are they?” He heard his voice crack as he spoke and knew he sounded weak. He tried clearing his throat. A feeble attempt at covering up his lack of strength.

“They are procuring bodies as we speak.” She stopped just out of reach and eyed him. “They will be here soon.”

“Bodies?”

Lilith laughed a deep and hearty laugh, her voice reminding him more and more of a dangerous predator. “They are demons, child. They need vessels to do my bidding here in this plane.”

“Ah.” Damien nodded as though he truly understood. He glanced about the warehouse again and shook his head. “Will they be, uh, staying here?”

“They will stay where they like. They will answer to my call as needed.” She turned and began to walk away.

“And how exactly will that work?” He held his ribs as he fell into step behind her.

“They are warriors. They serve me. When they are needed, they shall come.” She turned and gave him a cold, narrow gaze. “It has been ordained.”

“I understand, my Mistress.” He bowed slightly, his ribs protesting. “But, who exactly are they? What purpose will they serve?”

She paused and turned back to him, her eyes glimmering with mischief. “They are my demon legion. The most vile souls to have ever walked this Earth were condemned to eternity in Hell. And Samael gifted them to me. To serve me. To return me to my rightful place as ruler of this planet.”

“Your legion was once…men?” He swallowed hard.