Blood Empire Reborn, page 30
Maggie pulled out her phone. “About three thirty.”
“They’ve got to be close. Would you mind checking in with them?” Luke asked. “And when you’re done with that, I could use some music to help me calm down, please.”
Maggie sent a few texts, then hit play on her music app, playing Madeleine Peyroux’s cover of “Between The Bars.” A few minutes later when her phone buzzed, she checked it. “Sam says they just crossed the border. All three cars are safe.”
Luke heaved a sigh of relief. “If you’d gone with them, you’d be safe now, too.”
“Yeah, but you couldn’t do this by yourself. You needed my help. And…I couldn’t leave you to do this by yourself.”
Luke reached over and squeezed her hand. “Thank you, Maggie.”
They sat quietly while Luke navigated their way southeast, deeper into the Ardennes. Needing some music for the background, Luke started his playlist again, Kurt Cobain’s raw voice setting the mood with Nirvana’s cover of “Where Did You Sleep Last Night Last Night.” When Luke checked his gauges out of nervous habit, he did a double take when he saw the fuel tank. They’d only driven about forty-five minutes since they’d had their fight with the motorcycles following them, but the gauge was dangerously deep into the red. Five minutes later, the engine started sputtering.
“Shit, we’re out of diesel,” Luke said.
“What happened? Didn’t we have enough?” Maggie asked.
“We did.” Luke aimed the truck toward a shoulder, trying to find a place he could get the dying truck as far off the road as possible. When he found a likely place, he slowed and pulled off the road, until only the edge of the truck remained on the paved surface.
Luke unbuckled and climbed out of the truck. Pulling a flashlight out of his pocket, he flashed the beam over the panel covering the fuel tanks. Bullet holes riddled the panel. He walked to the other side of the truck and found the same. The second biker used the distraction of the first biker who’d attacked Luke to put bullets into the tanks on their way by.
He climbed back into the cab. “We’re on foot now. They shot holes in the tanks. Let’s put some distance between this truck and us before they find it. We’ve got a couple more hours before the vampires have to run and hide from the sun, but their pet werewolves will be out in force to sniff us out.”
“Should we call Pablo and Sam?” Maggie asked.
“If we can, but I doubt we’ll even have much reception out here. It’s terrible through the hills. Let’s get moving, and if we get some reception, we’ll decide then.” Luke grabbed the second ammo belt and strapped it around his armor, pulling the hoodie back in place over it.
Maggie looked around, her eyes landing on the radio stuck in the cubby in the console. She grabbed it and clipped it to her belt. Grabbing the Steyr, Luke took one last look around the cabin to make sure they had everything. They didn’t need to wipe down prints since they’d been wearing gloves, but he pulled out the flashlight to make sure there wasn’t anything else. Seeing some spent shotgun shells, he gathered them up. Maggie picked up all the ones she could see on her side. Satisfied, he climbed down, gave the floor a once over, and shut the door. He slung the Steyr over his shoulder so it hung across his back. He got the strap as tight as possible so it wouldn’t bounce as much. His shotgun, he’d carry.
“Ready to go, Maggie?” Luke asked.
“One more thing.” Maggie walked over to him and pulled him into a hug. “This feels weird to hug you in your armor when we’re both carrying guns. It’s very action movie.”
Luke chuckled. “I’d prefer a rom-com right now. A nice sedate movie with no vampires or guns. Just kissing interrupted by hijinks.”
Maggie sighed, gave him a last hard squeeze, and kissed him on the cheek. “Yeah. That would be pleasant. I think I’m ready now.”
Luke groaned as he moved, his ribs aching.
“What’s wrong?” Maggie ask, concern tinging her voice.
“Oh, I forgot about it in the heat of the moment, but now that the adrenaline has worn off… I took some shots on my armor. I think I might have some bruised ribs.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” She looked slightly annoyed.
“You just reminded me with that squeeze. It doesn’t feel as bad as that time I cracked those ribs. I’ll be fine. Not like there’s much we can do here, anyway.”
Maggie pursed her lips, shaking her head. “Let me know if things get worse. No being Mr. Tough Guy.”
“I promise.” Luke turned and walked off the road and into the trees; Maggie followed him.
Luke sat by a stream, dangling his feet in the cool water as it trickled by, the occasional sound of civilization drifting around from the other side of the hill. For the hundredth time, he nervously checked to see if Maggie was approaching before returning to his enjoyment of the stream. She should be back soon from the village that lay on the other side of the hill with some much needed sustenance.
They still had at least six or seven hours of hard hiking through hills and forests before they crossed into Luxembourg. The fact that they were heavily armed necessitated the cross-country, off-the-beaten-path hike. So far, they’d avoided any pursuit. Who knew if the vampires—or werewolves working with them—had even found their truck, yet.
Luke had tried to take them through streams, walking upstream or down to confuse any trails. Although he’d spent most of the twentieth century in cities, he hadn’t forgotten two thousand years’ worth of woodcraft, particularly in these hills. He’d spent a good deal of his time during the second World War moving through the forests of western Europe attacking Nazi targets then melting back into the countryside. He knew how to avoid being tailed, but rarely was he being tracked by supernaturals.
Fortunately, Luke and Maggie were supernaturals, using every bit of their strength and stamina to eat up as many kilometers as possible until they needed to make a stop. Maggie left her weapons and headed into the nearby village to pick up some food. While they could keep running on empty, they agreed it would be best to get some food, so they’d have the energy when they needed it.
When a twig snapped, Luke whipped his head around, the muscles in his torso seizing up. He groaned but didn’t get up when he saw it was Maggie. He unclenched and tried to release his muscles, grunting as he gently twisted his torso. Pulling his feet out of the stream, he set them on a rock so they’d have a chance to dry out while he ate.
“Ribs tightening up?” Maggie asked.
“Yeah.”
“I picked up some ibuprofen.” She pulled a bottle from a bag and handed Luke four tablets, then a bottle of water to take them with.
Luke popped them into his mouth and took a deep swallow of water. “You’re the best.” He chugged the rest of the bottle.
“I brought us a couple sandwiches and some fries. I hope they’re still warm enough. The friterie smelled so good when I walked by I couldn’t resist.” She handed Luke a cardboard box of fries.
The bottom of the box was still warm. He opened it and grabbed a fry, dragging it through some mayo before popping it into his mouth. He groaned happily, grabbing more fries. Soon, his box was empty. Smiling, Maggie handed him a sandwich. When he finished that, he drained another bottle of water and gathered up their debris, shoving it back into the bag Maggie’d carried everything in.
“I wish they’d had a store where I could pick up a backpack,” Maggie said, looking at the bag of refuse. “I can go back through town and meet you on the other side. I hate to litter.”
“That’ll work.” He squeezed her hand. “See you in a bit.”
Maggie took the bag from Luke and headed back into town. Luke pulled his socks and boots on, sighing unhappily about having to put on damp socks and boots. While crossing streams might be a good way to throw off their trail, it decidedly had its disadvantages.
When he stood, his ribs felt better, though still noticeably sore. It would take more than a few ibuprofen to fix his ribcage. He’d need a vampire or two for that. Unfortunately, the sunny day rendered them hard to find. He slung on the sniper rifle and Maggie’s shotgun, picked up his own, then made for the southerly route around town. An hour later, he met up with Maggie and together, they continued their trek through the Ardennes to Luxembourg.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-EIGHT
Maggie halted. “Luke…”
“Yeah, I hear it too. They’re not being very careful,” Luke whispered.
They still had a couple hours until sunset, then maybe another hour until they crossed into Luxembourg.
“Do we run?” Maggie asked.
“Not yet, but it wouldn’t hurt to pick up our jog a bit. Were you able to get a message to Sam when we passed near that town?” Luke asked.
“I sent it, but I lost reception before I saw if Sam replied,” Maggie said, her voice worried.
Luke nodded tightly, reaching out to give her arm a reassuring squeeze. “Let’s get going.”
Maggie nodded and picked up her pace. Luke followed, grunting at the dull pain in his ribcage. Another round of ibuprofen had taken the edge off, but less so than before. Sighing, he caught up with Maggie. There was nothing he could do about it now except soldier on, something he’d been doing forever.
Maggie’s footfalls were nearly silent as they picked her way through the forest. Luke wished he could move as silently, but he did the best he could with a tight and sore body. At this point, he chose the fastest path they could. It was too late to shake their tail. Now it would come down to speed and probably a fight.
Once they made it up the shallow hill, Luke picked up their pace. Off to his right, he heard new sounds.
“Luke, to the right,” Maggie whispered between gasps of air.
“Yeah, I hear. Let’s stop for one second.” Luke took in their surroundings. “There, that’ll have to do.”
He changed their path and ran up a wash. Once he got far enough, he called a halt, then checked out where he wanted to set up. The wash opened up into a wider, shallower section. On one side, a large boulder jutted out of the earth, tall trees surrounding it. On the other side, several trees clustered together at the top, further back than the boulder on the other side. He waved for Maggie to follow as he ran down the wash until he felt they’d gone far enough.
“Maggie, up to the ridge, then work back behind that boulder. I’m going up behind those trees. I’ll see if I can take out a few with the rifle. If they draw within range, open fire.” He looked back down at where they’d just come from. “See that sapling in the middle of the gully? Once they pass that sapling, that should be about the max effective range. Go easy on the ammo; we’re a bit thin. We’ve never really had a real chance to test its efficacy against werewolves, so it might just piss them off.”
Maggie nodded once, leaned in and kissed him quickly, then ran up the hill to get situated. Once she was behind her boulder, he worked his way up the edge of the wash until he was concealed in the small grove. He set his shotgun nearby where he could easily reach it and then pulled the sniper rifle off his back. With the bipod extended, he laid down and took aim down the narrow wash.
He wished he had more time to lay a better trap, but this would have to do. If they could survive and take out a few werewolves, it would hopefully slow them down and make them more cautious. They didn’t need all the time in the world, just enough to get to the border.
He took a moment to look over at Maggie. He smiled tightly. He had not wanted to expose her to this level of violence and the world he lived in, but she’d been a real trooper. Pulling his eyes away from the pretty woman who’d captivated him since she’d placed herself firmly in his path, he pulled the sniper rifle into his shoulder and looked down the scope and prepared.
The wolves trailing them had slowed down, cautious after their quarry made a course change. Luke knew the wash looked like a good place to lay an ambush, but he was hoping their overconfidence and superior numbers would force them down the gully and through the narrow gap. Squinting, Luke thought he saw movement just at the edge of the rise into the wash. He was thankful the vampires hadn’t scrimped on the scope. It was a fine piece of precision optics that allowed Luke to shoot above his weight class. When they returned home, he’d have to book some time with Jung-sook so she could help him up his shooting skills. It had certainly come in handy, but it would be a lot more useful if he didn’t miss so frequently.
A figure in full wolf form popped their head up, surveying the wash. Keeping low, they returned their nose to the ground and crawled forward. He didn’t know if Maggie could sense the wolf through any of magic werewolf senses, but he was pretty sure she could hear it making its way down the gully. He peeked up from his scope. Maggie looked toward him. He signaled for her to wait, pointing at himself. When she nodded, he hoped she understood. So far, they’d only sent one wolf down the wash. He wanted a few more, so he and Maggie would have a better chance of taking out several of them. If the werewolves stayed too cautious, they’d be able to keep up their harassment. Luke needed them to commit.
The rustle of leaves above Luke sent a spike of anxiety through his veins, and he feared the breeze would carry their scent back toward their enemies. He didn’t want fresh scents making it down the wash and alerting the wolves to their position. He wanted them to follow the trail on the ground until it was too late for them to break out of the trap.
Luke followed the first wolf with his scope for a few seconds, then set his aim back to the entrance of his trap. A second and third head popped up and committed to the advance. He didn’t know how many were following them, but three was a good start. He took aim at the second wolf, waiting until they’d both fully entered their trap. Luke peeked to the side of the scope, seeing the lead wolf still inching along, its nose snuffling the ground. When he put eye back to scope, he smiled. The two wolves had drawn close to each other.
He took a calming breath and adjusted his aim, finally squeezing the trigger. The first wolf went down and the second yelped, falling over. The first one wasn’t moving. He swung the rifle to the first one. It’d froze, flattening itself against the ground. He took aim at the immobile target and put one in its head. Luke didn’t know if a werewolf could heal from a direct shot to the head or not, but it would sure take them out of this fight for the duration.
Luke returned to the pair he’d shot first. The one was still down, but the other one was trying to awkwardly crawl out of the trap. Every once in a while, it would let out a yip, as if it was asking for help or support. Normally, Luke would never shoot a wolf. He considered them beautiful animals much maligned throughout history—especially in gun-happy, cattle-mad America. He had to remind himself they were people who’d sold their souls to serve the vilest of creatures—the vampire. It was kill or be killed, and he couldn’t hesitate because he liked wolves or his best friends and his girlfriend could also turn into wolves.
He pulled his sights off the wounded wolf and returned to the entrance of the wash. He saw several heads poke up, then duck back down. While the wolves were indecisive, he checked on Maggie. She was still hunkered down, well hidden, checking back and forth on Luke and the progress of their enemies. He nodded, then returned his attention to his scope.
The wolves must have finally decided; they rose as one and sprinted into the wash as fast as they could. Luke took aim in the center of their mass and fired, cataloging the yelp in the back of his mind. He pulled the bolt and fired again, hitting another. The last shot in the magazine chambered. He missed. He yanked out the empty magazine and shoved in the next one he’d set beside the gun.
The first wolf had passed the sapling. A few moments later, the sound of an M12 shotgun barked out. The first wolf tumbled to the ground, yelping and screaming in an eerily human fashion. It was still moving, but the silver Maggie had peppered it with must be burning hot and nasty under its skin. The noisy and violent cries of their packmate caused them to halt their progress, unsure of what was happening except knowing their friend was in excruciating pain.
Luke aimed and fired, aimed and fired, aimed and fired, and struck three werewolves in the tight cluster. The last one, seeing its packmates felled, turned and sprinted out of there as fast as possible, its tail tucked between its legs.
Luke kept his eye to his scope, trying to close his ears to the sound of wounded wolves. After a couple minutes, no more wolves popped up their heads. Standing, Luke worked his way back down to the floor of the wash, still keeping the Steyr aimed down the gully. Still no hint of wolves.
Luke made a wide berth around the silver shot werewolf. It convulsed on the forest floor. The piteous noises it made filled his stomach with stabbing agony and nausea. He felt no shame for killing a vampire. A vampire was a creature devoid of a soul, the spark that made it human—its soul stolen when it was turned undead. A werewolf was still a human, capable of good or evil or turning away from an evil path. Wolves were his friends. This could be one of the Flanders Pack he’d broken bread with. When he passed the first wolf, he stood still.
“Stop your movement, all of you. Do not try to escape,” he called in French, then repeated it in Flemish Dutch.
The few trying to crawl away stopped moving. Keeping the rifle tucked to his shoulder, he let go with his left hand and awkwardly pulled the gladius from the scabbard on his left hip. He rarely pulled the sword from that location with his left hand.
“Change back to your human form if you can,” he ordered, again in both languages. When no one did, he walked up to the nearest, pointing the gladius at it. The wolf growled. Luke, still holding the gladius, put his hand back on the rifle and aimed at the wolf. “Change.”
One by the one, the wolves changed, save for a few who hadn’t moved since Luke shot them. When the last had changed, Luke lowered the gun slightly.
“What language do you prefer?” Luke asked, keeping his voice hard and full of steel.
