Endangered Ch. 08

Thankfully, the three non-magical humans in the observation room were oblivious to the young dragon's torture, staring at monitors filled with all sorts of biometric displays, personal history, and every scrap of information the US government could scrape together on a person. It was quite impressive, Chris thought. A bit disturbing too.

"I'm not sure who's squirming more. You? Or him?" Lillian whispered.

Tim just shook his head in mock disgust. Never in all his years of knowing her had Lillian behaved so... to call it unprofessional would be diplomatic. Then again, never had a vampire been pregnant.

"I'll show you squirming," the dragon growled in frustration, making several of the technicians look up from their work. He waved his hand in apology before looking over at Tim almost pleadingly. It was like the vampire had had herself surgically attached to him since last night, refusing to be separated and constantly seeking affection. It might have been endearing if she wasn't teasing and somehow obstinate at the same time.

"Yes," her invisible lips brushed his ear, her words thick with longing. "Make me squirm for you, please."

This was just the problem, he could never get the upper hand. Respond to her teasing, she would call his bluff by raising the ante. Be firm and she would respond in kind with undead strength and the promise of fangs and claws. Do nothing? That was like an open invitation for her to do what she wanted.

He sighed in defeat, deciding to ignore her even though he knew it wouldn't work.

In front of him through the glass, Michelle asked the suspect another question. The man's name was Noel Redding and he was a pragmatist, he appeared to be cooperating fully. He was an ex-marine who had worked all over the shady end of private security after leaving the service. Michelle had laid it down in simple facts for the man. He had no rights. A judge would never see his case. She had the might of NSA to back her up as well as a vengeful dragon and an irate dark-elf. She already knew he and his team were guns for hire, they had well known history in that game. What she wanted was every detail to do with his employer and how he came to know about Beings.

The picture that was being painted under Michelle's skilled questioning was not a good one. Their anonymous employer had initiated them into the world of magic, albeit rather poorly. This was the third such 'mission' his team had been hired to conduct. The first two had been successful. They'd captured a human wizard and a young werecat with the same routine they'd tried on Chris, delivering them to a transport team for a hefty sum of unmarked cash. They'd been contracted for three quarters of a million if they could bag Chris.

He didn't know who was hiring them. It was all done anonymously but he was willing to provide all communication records and dates to do with their activities in exchange for he and his surviving partner, Chuck Abbot, being shown leniency.

Michelle put a non-networked laptop in front of him and told him to start typing. As he did, she added that he'd better be honest. She was going to check his story by administering truth syrup in just a few hours once a fresh batch had been brewed. If there were any inconsistencies, she was going to let the vampire that his sniper had shot take over the questioning.

The desired effect was momentarily ruined when Michelle had to explain what truth syrup was, but Chris watched the man's face rapidly pale as he realised he was truly in over his head.

***

Chris shuffled from the kitchen back to the dining room table, plate in hand. With a tired sigh, he took a seat opposite Michelle. She was intently bent over her laptop screen, exactly how he'd left her ten minutes before.

"Would you like half a sandwich?" He offered.

"What?" Michelle looked up as if startled to see him. "Oh. No, thanks. You must be hungry after the day you've had. You're also suffering the effects of blood loss, eat up."

The dragon only paused momentarily with the huge sandwich in limbo between his mouth and the plate. The beautiful, feisty vampire, currently exiled to a comfy recliner in the living room, was worth any mild discomfort. He would simply adapt and grow stronger.

It had been a long afternoon downtown at the new BIA building.

Of course, no one knew who had really purchased the entire red brick mid-rise but neighbouring shopkeepers and tenants noted the uncharacteristically quick and efficient construction going on inside behind closed doors.

After watching Michelle deal with Noel Redding, he'd experienced his own haranguing by a couple of detectives from the Denver PD about the previous evening's activities. They knew his story of events wasn't adding up. He knew he couldn't tell them anything about magic or how he'd managed to really kill three armed attackers and disarm the rest. Adding to their frustration were several eye witness accounts of his heroics that were frustratingly lacking in any real detail.

Michelle seemed to know one of them somehow, a Detective Field. He was reasonable. The other was like a vicious feist, latching onto him and not willing to let go. For some reason the guy hated that the media had taken to Chris as some sort of hero. Detective Field even bore a few of the terrier-like man's more cutting remarks for his apparent role in Chris' newfound spotlight.

Chris supposed the detective's tenacity probably made him good at his job, except that this time he was barking up the wrong tree. He wasn't the bad guy and he didn't appreciate being painted that way by someone ignorant.

Michelle, seeing Chris' growing frustration as the detective tried to corner him in a lie, left the room and put in a call to her new head of department. Ten minutes later, a call from the Chief of Police sent the two men packing, if grumbling.

Back in the police administration building, the Chief was left reeling at what had just been exposed to him. That morning, his biggest worry had been for one of his undercover officers who was stuck in a dangerous situation whilst trying to infiltrate a methamphetamine ring. Now he was discovering he lived in a world of dragons and vampires.

"Any luck?" Chris gestured as her clacking fingers brought his attention towards her laptop.

"No. I don't like this at all," Michelle said, not pausing her typing. "I'm not sure we're going to catch them. In fact, I'm almost sure we won't unless whoever is behind this gets sloppy."

In front of her, page after page of routing information scrolled across her screen. Tracking programs trying to chase down the elusive messages sent to Noel Redding's email address.

"Why? I thought you guys trawl through emails all the time?" Chris spoke around his first big mouthful of smoked chicken, lettuce, tomato, and creamed cheese sandwich.

"I'm afraid it's not as easy when the email gets routed through several countries we don't have any worthwhile electronic surveillance operations in. Our trail ends abruptly when it gets passed through Pakistan into Iran. Whoever's behind this knows what they're doing. More worrying is where they are getting their information. I suspect we have a leak on the human side of things, someone is trying to cash in early on the Revelation. The greedy bastards are going to ruin everything," the disgust in her tone was palpable.

"So where does that leave us?" Chris frowned. The thought that someone out there was kidnapping Beings did not sit well at all, and not just because they'd tried to come at him. Despite that Michelle though otherwise, he was paranoid that Radek was somehow involved. His mind was over-imaginative about what the man would undoubtedly do to his captives.

"Nowhere." The agent looked up noticing his displeasure, a tiny smile brightened her serious expression, pleased that he was getting invested in the case. "At this stage, about the only thing we are confident of is that whoever we're after is probably human. Everything I've seen so far points that way. A Being wouldn't bother kidnapping relative unknowns like Noel admitted to in his previous jobs. Also, they would never send only a few ill-equipped humans after someone like you, or any class one for that matter. Then there's the untraceable emails, not exactly Being SOP."

"We still have one avenue open to us but it's time sensitive," Lillian finally spoke up from the couch-seat where Chris had banished her. Her constant hovering, petting, and so called 'love bites,' whilst initially endearing were not conducive to a hungry man eating a well-deserved lunch. All he wanted was to eat in peace for fifteen minutes. That she had to be wrestled into the recliner, kissed into submission, and bribed with more of his blood was beside the point.

"What?" he asked hastily around half a mouthful, turning to Lillian. "I want to catch these bastards."

"A baited hook," the vampire replied.

"But that would make... Chris... No, I don't think so," Michelle scowled.

"The bait," he swallowed and grinned, looking right into his familiar's worried eyes. "Do it. This is exactly what I signed up for."

"That's not how it works, Chris. This could be very dangerous and I'm responsible for you if I put you in the field," she argued.

"Come on, Michelle," he pestered. "If you aren't going to use me for something like this, what was the point in getting me signed on with the government. Did you waste the last two month's worth of my evenings on training modules for the fun of it?"

"Okay. Okay, let me think." She raised her hands in surrender. He was right, and she was warming to the idea. The task was daunting though. "This is going to take a lot of planning. God damn it, Lillian, I hardly got any sleep last night and you spring this on me. It's never easy around here."

"Do you want to catch them or not?" the vampire quipped.

"Of course I do," Michelle shot back, her brows knitting together like tiny thunderheads at her frustration. "You're not the one who has to organise this nightmare on short notice though. Just put your feet up and let me work, I'm sure it's arduous work being pregnant over there."

Lillian hissed playfully.

Chris couldn't help chuckling at the banter between the two.

"Can I help?" he offered Michelle.

"No, not really, just keep Lillian out of my hair. Sorry, Chris, Monday is supposed to be your first day on the job but I'm afraid we'll be throwing you straight in the deep end. The team I was putting together around you for our Denver office were supposed to be arriving throughout the week but we could really use them for this. I'll have to have them fly in tomorrow and they won't be happy."

Chris watched as Michelle pulled a headset out of her bag and began typing away furiously. She began muttering cutely under her breath. Sexy things like 'requisition order,' 'jet on standby,' 'satellite coverage,' and 'armoured extraction vehicle.' When she started making calls and talking, her fingers continued their dance like a troop of ballerina across the keys.

When he got up and cleared his plate, she didn't even look up. He shrugged to Lillian.

"Want to go see Reyla?" he asked.

"Sure, I never got to gloat last night," Lillian smirked.

"Please behave." Chris knew it was a hopeless endeavour but he had to try.

***

As it turned out, their visit to Reyla's study was relatively peaceful. There wasn't a single spell cast, book thrown, or talon drawn. Plenty of raised voices, angry glares, flared nostrils, and poorly veiled insults though.

Thankfully Arvil was there, researching the very thing they came to discuss. Chris went over to say hello as Reyla and Lillian circled each other like angry she-cats, hissing and yowling.

Reyla's main jab seemed to be that Lillian's true colours were finally showing, that she was an ungrateful, treacherous slut. Meanwhile, Lillian maintained that Reyla was simply a sadistic old nag who wouldn't know what to do with a cock if it slapped her in the face but would hold it against anyone else who did. The core of the issue was, of course, the unresolved resentment from both sides over Lillian's years of indentured service and now her sudden freedom. The delicate balance of power had been shattered and both powerful women were unsure how to behave and wary of each other. Chris was just happy they weren't letting each other's blood, yet.

Now that their bloodpact was broken, Reyla had no physical hold over the vampire other than her position as lady of the territory. In short, the elf found herself once again angry, jealous, and impotent as the dragon brought more strife to her little kingdom. If it wasn't clear that he was favoured by whatever force was weaving their fates, she might have been tempted to banish him to another territory simply to avoid the hassle.

It was a frivolous thought of course, she would never let one such as him escape her influence. Truth be told, she liked the young dragon. He made her realise that her life had become stale. She was entrenched in her position and he was a sweet-smelling breeze that blew through and around her, promising excitement and adventure once again to her ancient soul. Besides, he was already doing wonders for her local economy and people.

Reyla was also intelligent enough to know that she couldn't afford to lose Lillian in a time like this, she was holding the vampire community in the midwest together. That didn't even begin to consider the vampire's impossible pregnancy. The Synod hadn't believed her when she reported the event early that morning. Several members had outright laughed at her. She could hardly blame them but it galled her nonetheless.

Lillian on the other hand realised that she had to keep things mostly civil between the two of them. She was tied to Chris now, which meant staying in Denver for the time being. Despite her resentment for years of vassalage to the elf, she had to live in her city.

It was a cutting off her nose to spite her face situation. She had connections here and she felt like she was doing an excellent job helping other vampires and Beings prepare for the Revelation. If Relya treated her with a bit more respect than a servant, she already had what she'd wanted this whole time, her freedom.

"Read this," Arvil passed Chris a medium sized tome bound with black leather while the two women settled into a tentative truce. "It's the best account of the vampire prophecy I can find in my cousin's collection."

Despite not being very large, the book was very dense, heavy. Chris slouched into an empty armchair next to the half-breed elf and laid it on his thigh. As soon as he opened the cover, he noted the extremely thin, gold-gilded pages. The paper was so thin you could almost read the letters on the next page if the text hadn't been so tiny and hand written.

Arvil leaned closer across the gap separating their chairs so he could read as well, conjuring another light globe above the dragon's head so they could see the script clearly. Chris gently began turning the delicate pages aimlessly, in awe of the craftsmanship and work that went into creating such a subtle artwork of bookmaking.

"It begins on page nine-hundred and thirty-seven," the elf prompted, eager to see the young man's reaction. In the two months he'd been training the dragon, he'd come to appreciate the level headed, relaxed attitude Chris exuded. Arvil would like to think they were becoming friends. On top of that, there was always something exciting and mysterious going on around the enigmatic Being. This most recent upset only proved that.

"Here?" Chris asked, pointing to a small paragraph as Reyla and Lillian negotiated the new terms of their tense working relationship in the background.

"That's the one," Arvil confirmed.

Extract from the interrogation of Father Lucas de Vega. Accused of heresy, witchcraft, vampirism, and blasphemy. Twelfth day, fourth month in the year of Our Father, 1512.

After three hours chained to the holy silver cross of our Lord, Calificador Mendoza lashed the beast two score with the cat. Having no doubt that the imposter was indeed a devil in the skin of an old priest, Mendoza did not hesitate to draw the foul creature's blood. The demon begged for mercy, offering promises and lies in exchange for freedom as such monstrosities are want to do. I confess weakness, for I looked away from the terrible sight when the beast's hide began to wither and crack unnaturally under the lash. The blessed silver poisoned the hideous beast, burning its skin black.

Just as Mendoza had prayed, our Lord drained its Satan-spawned strength and false immortality. I saw then the creature's terrible fangs as it let out a piteous death shriek.

The Calificador wrenched back the old man's pallid hair and demanded the location of the nest that spawned him, for it is know that such demons seek shelter from the sun together in heinous covens. There was no reply, for the man had expired. Mendoza was most dissatisfied, ordering me to cut it down and burn the corpse. I was afraid, fearing trickery, and put my boot in the creatures gut to assure myself of its demise.

The head snapped upward unnaturally, looking at me with eyes of pure black. I admit my bladder failed me then, but brave Mendoza pulled me out of harm's way as the Beast himself spoke through his dead servant. My very bones quaked to hear that terrible voice of darkness, spoken from the depths of hell. Though I will surely try, I may never forget that horrible prophecy for the rest of my days.

"The barren daughter of Lilith bears fruit with the serpent. Lo, the children of that blessed union are the sacrament of a new age. Their blood, the communion. My kind will walk in the sun again."

The old priest's body went mercifully limp again and I gave thanks to the Lord for my salvation in the presence of such pure evil. I could smell the very fumes of brimstone thick in the air as Satan took his leave. It was only when I sat to catch my breath and thank God once again for my deliverance that I realised the terrible sulphurous odour had its origin in my own pantaloons.

Alcaide Pedro de Torquemada

Chris looked up at the end of the passage.

"You cannot be serious." Chris arched an incredulous eyebrow.

"Why not? We know that Lucas de Vega was a vampire, that he was captured and tortured to death in the first half of 1512. There was also a corresponding peak of magic recorded at or near his assumed time of death. The imperial psykers investigated his death when it was found to relate to the spike. They came across this account of his death and added it to the Encyclopedia of Prophecy before erasing the memories of his torturers," Arvil explained.

"Wait, who the hell is keeping record of all these magical goings on?"

"The elves. We have always coveted knowledge and the Imperial Court has ever been interested in any powerful surge of magic. House Lefayd in particular takes interest in such things, they are ever greedy for knowledge. Your recent activities will not have escaped their attention, of course."

"Of course," Chris rolled his eyes. "Come on, Arvil, the man in the story shat himself. Next, you're going to tell me I should take the bible literally, word for word."

"Ha! Yes, well, I'm surprised at the poor lad's honesty, but it shouldn't subtract from meat of the account. You're right of course. Scepticism is always healthy but let me play devil's advocate for a moment. How many pregnant vampires do you know of?" Arvil grinned, knowing he had the argument cinched.

"One," the dragon admitted.

"Precisely, and a dragon might also be referred to as a..."

"Alright, you've made your point. A serpent. Jees, why can't a guy just bury his head in the sand and have his problems go away for once," Chris complained.