Coalition of the Damned - 03 (9 page)

“I may have been trained classically, but I’m mated to a mi
litary man. I do know how to curse, thank you.” She looked at her mother and saw the state she was in. “Mother?”

“I’m okay, darling. But I think we need to be leaving now. Our journey has come to an end,” Natashia said softly.

“I do not think so.” Nadia turned to Maxwell, “Where is the Roman guard?”

“Dead.”

“Show me his body,” she demanded.

Maxwell shook his head. “What?”

“You heard me, old man. Show me where he is buried,” she demanded, her hands planted firmly on her hips.

“Nadia! You do not speak to him in such a manner,” N
atashia hissed.

“I will speak to him however I wish, Mother,” she shot back. “He is a coward. He hides here in the shadows of his church while
true
wolves prepare to defend their packs. Lycans, true of heart, ready to die if need be, prepare to do battle against a foe so powerful that most would rather hide than stand against him. And he only has the courage to hide in France and paint? Perhaps growl at a few stray women?” she spat.

“Forgive her, Maxwell!” Natashia pleaded. “She has no idea!”

Maxwell stared at Nadia for a moment then looked down at Natashia. He shook his head and chuckled. “She is so much like her father, isn’t she?”

“They are both like you used to be,” Natashia replied.

“That was a long time ago,” he said softly, reminiscing.

“Mother, what are you saying? I thought he was a holy man?” Nadia asked.

“Nadia…your grandfather…he is the
founder
of the Lycans. He is the one who laid the groundwork, made the rules…he is the one who set the standards.”

Nadia turned to him, open agape. “You were a Lycan?” she whispered.

“Were?” Maxwell repeated. “Once a Lycan, always a Lycan, little pup.”

“No four wolves could defeat your grandfather in his day,” Natashia said with honest awe. “He was a most fearsome figh
ter.”

“Only four? How the mighty have fallen over time.” Ma
xwell laughed. “Usually over time, one’s heroics are heralded and their triumphs grow larger!”

Natashia gave a nervous laugh. “Fine then, no
five
wolves could defeat you. Perhaps six even!”

“Why not make it eight!” Maxwell shouted.

Nadia stood with her hands on her hips and eyed him. True, he was large and imposing; and yes, his strength was fierce, but was he truly as great as her mother let on? She acted as though he could best her father and Nadia just couldn’t imagine
any
wolf capable of that. “Was he as good as father?” she asked.

“As good?” Maxwell asked. “Who do you think taught him?”

“I’m sure he’s learned much more since then,” Nadia stated.

Maxwell nodded. “I’m sure he has.”

“Too bad you gave it all up to become…a painters” she spat.

Maxwell stiffened. “Careful there, pup. You’re treading in places where you ought not to go.”

“Or what? I, myself am a Lycan of the Third Order. My father taught me,” she said. “I don’t see him running away from his family to…paint.”

Maxwell squared off and crossed his arms again. He eyed his brazen young granddaughter. “No, he just runs from his bitch-mother rather than challenge her authority, and becomes a slave to a
vampire
!” he shot back at her.

Nadia seemed unfazed by his insult. “Rufus has been very kind to us.”

“She has known nothing but the island, Maxwell,” Natashia explained.

He grunted his disapproval. “And yet you come here loo
king for my help.”

“Only to find the Roman,” she shot back. “A man of
honor
.”

“Honor! What would you know of honor?” he spat. “You know nothing of this Roman! You know only of rumor and fairy tales!”

“I know that he was a warrior. And warriors rise to the occasion!” she yelled back at him. “We need a true warrior now to help lead our people to victory.”

Maxwell stared at her, his eyes piercing her, but she never backed down. Her chest heaved and her arms flexed and her heart pounded in her chest as she fought the urge to scream, but she never flinched. He admired her tenacity and her bravery, even if he felt her actions were foolhardy. “And what would you say to this Roman if you were to find him?”

“I would ask him to rise up and lead his people. I would ask him to take his rightful place as the leader of the wolves. I would ask him to lift his shield and his spear one more time in the name of all that is right and honorable and defend those who are weaker against an enemy who is bent on destroying everything in his path!” she yelled. “I would ask him to do the right thing! For mankind. For wolves throughout the world. For glory! For God!” she screamed so loud her voice was growing hoarse. “I would beg him to unite our people and lead them through the darkness and back into the light! I would beg him to shake off the yoke of centuries of dust from hiding in the shadows of history and step forth and make himself known and take his rightful place as the Lycan of all Lycans!” Tears were running down her face now as she shook her fists at him, her voice cracking with emotion.

Drained and broken, she wept. “I’d beg him to save the world so that I might raise my child in a place free of oppression from a force of darkness so frightful that I haven’t slept in…” she lifted her red eyes to him and the sadness nearly broke his heart, “I can’t remember how long. The visions are so horr
ible…” She broke down and sobbed.

Maxwell stepped forward and embraced her. He looked to Natashia who was wiping away her own tears. “She’s missing her true place, you know. She should be a politician or an or
ator,” he said with a slight smile.

Nadia pulled away from him, “For the love of my child, do not mock me

“I’m not mocking you, pup,” Maxwell soothed. “That was a helluva speech. Gave me goose bumps and everything.”

Nadia shook her head and buried her face in her hands. Maxwell rubbed at her back. “There now. Calm yourself,” he said. “You did good, pup.” He felt her relax slightly in his arms. “You’ve got your Roman.”

It took Nadia a moment to register what he said. She lifted her head and looked to him. “You’ll take us to him?”

Maxwell shook his head. “No, I won’t.” Nadia’s face twis
ted in confusion. “I’m right here.
I
am Claudius Maximus Veranus.”

*****

Mitchell escorted General McAfee through the hangar and pointed out the various stations and personnel, describing their duties and the work going on at each one. The general didn’t seem too impressed at the moment. Mitchell worked his way to the elevators and, rather than take him down level by level, went straight for Dr. Peter’s laboratory.

Matt had the foresight to contact Laura and inform her of their visitor and she made arrangements for the general’s visit. Evan was waiting and ready for the general as well. He had a little trick up his sleeve should the general refuse to accept the truth.

Thorn had retired for the day, but Evan was still working on his retired weapon project for the upcoming battle and had electronics and schematics scattered throughout his lab when Mitchell and General McAfee showed up. “Dr. Peters, I’d like you to meet someone,” Matt said as they entered his workspace.

“One moment, Colonel…” Evan was digging through his workbench looking for something and was growing agitated that he couldn’t find it. Finally he emerged from under a pile of ele
ctronics with a silicon chip clamped in his fingers. “Got it!” He placed it gingerly on the green board he had been working on, then turned and addressed the pair. “General McAfee, I presume?” He stuck his hand out in greeting.

The general grasped it, then withdrew quickly. “Good hea
vens. Your skin is ice cold.”

Evan looked at his hand a moment then answered awkwar
dly, “Um, yes, General, it’s because my flesh is technically dead.” Then he quickly corrected himself, “Or,
undead
depending on how you look at things.” He smiled sheepishly at the man.

The general leaned in and looked at Evan’s smile. “I don’t see fangs, Colonel.”

“They only extend as a defensive move or when feeding, sir,” Mitchell informed him.

The general nodded. “May I see them?” he asked.

Evan seemed a bit embarrassed and would have blushed had he been capable. “I suppose so. Give me a moment, sir.” He seemed to concentrate a bit and tried to extend his fangs, but they failed to do so on command.

“Bit of a problem there, son?” the general asked, a bit a
nnoyed.

Evan tried to act as though it was a common occurrence for the fangs to not extend on command, but he hated having ‘pe
rformance issues’. “I apologize, General. It’s not like I practice extending my fangs on a regular basis. I so rarely use them.”

The general nodded. “Defensive use?” he asked. Mitchell nodded. The general turned to leave then suddenly picked up a screwdriver from the workbench and brought it up in a striking position and screamed at Evan as if he were about to attack.

Evan threw an arm up and crouched, his fangs extending automatically and his eyes bled out their color to a pale white in a reflexive move. The general slowly withdrew and lowered the screwdriver. Evan slowly stood, touching his tongue to the tips of the fangs. He never really cared for the pointy things, but…there they were. He stood slowly and opened his mouth for the general to get a better look.

General McAfee closed in and peered carefully in Evan’s mouth. “A lot bigger than I would have thought. Pointy as hell, too. Looks like it would really tear your mouth up when those things drop down,” he mumbled. He finally looked at Evan and truly addressed him. “Does it hurt when that happens?”

“No, sir. I don’t really feel it at all. It just feels like I have something stuck in my upper lip a bit and—”

“Okay, Mitchell, show me more,” McAfee said, cutting Evan off.

As the two walked away, Matt shot Evan an apologetic look and Evan felt, for just a moment, worse than a second class citizen. The realization of his situation set in on him again and he heaved a sigh. He felt his fangs recede back into their pocket and his vision restored to normal as he contemplated his fate. It was one thing to live it daily. Laura and Matt did their best to accommodate his needs, and he appreciated what they did for him. He did his best to adjust and he worked tirelessly to develop weapons to help them in their fight against all kinds of monsters. All the while, he worked to find a cure to the virus that robbed him of his humanity. But when someone like this general comes in and talks to him like this, like he was a lab animal, a test monkey…it just brought home the pain and loneliness that he felt all the time and refused to deal with. He realized that it stripped him of the one thing that he had been clinging to…hope. Hope for a cure, hope for a way back to being human. Hope to be normal. Hope to be able to walk in the sun again. Hope to love and be loved. Just…hope.

He turned and saw Mitchell and McAfee work their way across and over to the training area. For the briefest of moments, he wondered if Mitchell would tell the man about the augment
ation and the fact that the squad members were genetically altered to be werewolves, but then, he already knew the answer to that one. Why would he? They could pass for human. He felt forlorn and wanted to give in when Laura walked by and gave him a wink. He smiled at her and she smiled back and that small little gesture, that single act of kindness, borne not of necessity, but out of love brought him back from his edge of despair and reminded him why he was doing everything he was doing. It didn’t matter if there were people like McAfee out there. He had people like Mitchell and Thompson and Apollo and Donovan and…well, all of the team members who treated him like a person. And then there was Laura who genuinely cared about him. Despite his awkwardness with women, she loved him for who he was.

His condition didn’t have to be a handicap, it could be a strength; and he would use his strength to better the squads and make for a more efficient team. With renewed vigor he set hi
mself back to task and refocused on the project at hand, a smile crossing his face and a song in his heart…his cold, dead, shriveled heart that no longer pumped blood except after he fed.

*****

As the first rays of sunlight broke across the mountains, Lamb woke Jack and Jacobs. They were afraid to wake Tufo because his woodland Sprite was sleeping on his shoulder and nobody wanted to get bit. Bennie had slipped off during the night, presumably to go back to his own people, so they couldn’t talk him into shaking Tufo awake. The man snored like a chainsaw and they didn’t know how the little Sprite could sleep through all the noise.

Finally, Jack found a stick and poked Tufo awake with it. The Sprite on his shoulder wasn’t very happy about it, but n
obody got bit and all of the members were up and about. Donovan trudged back down the ridge and reported that the way to the Greater Elves was littered with rock and would be a rough trek. The team packed their gear and set out along the crest of the ridge, trying to keep the area in view so as not to lose sight of it to the woods surrounding them.