Sui Generis – 39

 

Brand asked, "If she's so good at hiding, how are we going to catch her?"

"Presuming she does end up in this territory, I'm sure Antton will come up with something. He's very good at that. If he wasn't, he wouldn't be in charge."

"Couldn't the same be said for any of the top Enforcers?"

Randulf nodded. "It could, but he's exceptional." He stopped pacing, leaning his elbow on the fireplace mantle. "Enough of that for now, Brand. I have to teach you how to use your werewolf abilities, beyond shifting and returning fully clothed, which I know you've already mastered. Are you free for the rest of the day?"

"Until class, yes. Mag should go to work, though, before his boss thinks he's taken a permanent leave of absence."

Mag chuckled. "He probably already thinks that, so if you don't mind, Randulf, can you drop me off there? It's not far from our place."

"You could quit, you know," Brand said. "I wasn't kidding when I told you I've got some money and now that you know why…"

"I think we still have to work. Otherwise, it would be hard to explain how we survive."

"Once the council gives their approval, Brand will go onto the payroll as a member of 'Ochoa Protection Services'," Randulf told them. He chuckled. "It pays very well."

"You're serious? There's a company for what we do?"

"Of course," Antton said, coming back into the room. "Mine. We need a front and what better one than a security company?"

"Makes sense to me." Brand grinned. "Do I get a badge and a gun?"

"Please say 'no' on the gun. He's dangerous enough as he is," Mag grumbled.

Antton chuckled. "The badge, yes. As for a weapon, Brand, you already have one that's much more effective against the sort of people you'll be going after."

Brand sighed. "True, but a gun…"

"Would be fairly useless, unless you caught a werewolf in their human form. And before you ask, the council welcomes you to the Enforcers."

"Woot!" Brand gave a fist pump, grinning when Mag hugged him tightly and said, "Congratulations—I think."

"Yes, they are in order," Randulf said before turning to Antton. "We should set them up in a new house—one that's well protected, for both their sakes."

"Consider it done. I'll call you when I know where but for now. I think you should take them off somewhere safe and start Brand's lessons."

"I have to get to work," Mag pointed out.

"Sorry to have pulled rank on you, which I did, Mag. You are now officially employed by my firm as well, just as Brand is, and I'm giving you a couple of days before you need to report for duty."

"Now just a damned minute here! Don't I get a say in this?" Mag asked tightly. "I liked what I did, as menial as it was."

"You can say thank you," Antton replied, looking at Mag with a bit of amusement. "It's a good job, it pays well, and gives you a reason to be with Brand when necessary."

"Yeah, like I can fight vampires and werewolves." Mag touched his bruised cheek. "You can see how well I do that."

"You did exactly what you were supposed to, young man, and when you've been trained in self-defense, you'll be prepared to do more."

"I thought this was going to be Brand's training, not mine. I'm not one of you."

"You're part of Brand's life. A very important part, if I'm not mistaken. So as I told you earlier, it behooves both of you if you're able to defend yourself, Mag. I'll set it up with one of my people to work with you."

Mag nodded. "I see your point, but I still don't like that you went behind my back about my job."

Antton shrugged. "Get used to it. I run this area with a tight hand. I expect all of my people to do as they're told and that includes you."

Brand put one hand on Mag's shoulder. "I'll quit if this makes you so unhappy," he told him softly.

Mag looked at him for a long moment then shook his head. "They need you. I'll get over it. I mean his highhanded treatment of me. But so help me—" he glared at Antton, "—if we don't like the house you get us, you'll keep looking until you find one that we do."

Antton laughed. "Deal. Now out of here, all of you. I have work to do."

Sui Generis – 38

 

"Are you certain?" Antton asked a few minutes later. "Because it will impact not just you, Brand, but Mag as well."

Brand looked at Mag and they both nodded. "We talked about it, in case you really did want me to become an Enforcer. He knows it's important, and that it's dangerous." Brand took Mag's hand, smiling softly. "As he put it—well, implied at least—for him it would be like being the partner of a cop or someone in the military. He'd be waiting at home and praying I came back alive and in one piece."

"Then what you two have is now a permanent arrangement?"

Again Brand smiled at Mag before replying. "Yes, it is as far as I'm concerned."

"It is," Mag said adamantly.

Antton tapped his lip. "All right then, I'll let the council know. Pending their approval—and I'm sure that won't be a problem—I'm putting you in Randulf's capable hands for training." He paused, glancing at Randulf. "Take Mag with you when you work with Brand. Under the circumstances, it won't hurt for him to know what's what and how to take care of himself."

"Why?" Brand asked before he understood. "He could become a target, the way he was with Fedor."

"Exactly. Although the situation would be different because it wouldn't be part of a plan."

"I'm not sure I like that idea." Brand looked worriedly at Mag.

"Then back out now," Antton replied with some asperity.

"He's not backing out," Mag pronounced, sending an irate glance Brand's way. "I might be just a human, but if I know what to expect, I think I can take care of myself if I have to. Hell, Brand, I lived on the streets and survived just fine. It's not like I'm some preppy rich kid."

Brand nodded, adding, "Now, but…"

"You were?" Randulf asked, seeming surprised.

"Way back when I guess you would have called me that. Then things went bad between me and my family and I got out of there fast. I decided—" Mag glared angrily down at his hands, "—a conversion camp was not going to be in my future. And that is all I'm going to say about that. It's in the past and it's staying locked up there." 

"Understood," Antton said. "We all have histories we do that with." He stood, telling them, "Now, as I said, I have to tell the council we have a new member. I suggest, Randulf, you start working with Brand as soon as possible. There are rumors that Alanna Jans is heading this way."

"Only rumors?" Randulf asked, frowning deeply.

"So far, yes. Obviously, we're trying to determine if there's any truth behind them."

"If she is, this could become very interesting, to put it mildly."

"Who is Alanna Jans?" Brand asked.

"I'll let Randulf explain," Antton said before leaving the room.

Randulf paced as he began talking. "Alanna is a very vicious, rogue werewolf. Once, many years ago, she was one of the sweetest, most docile female werewolves I've ever known. Then she made the mistake of falling head-over-heels in love with a human. No insult intended, Mag."

Mag nodded. "None taken."

"Unfortunately, this man was a bastard, to put it mildly. He used her, abused her, and then when he was finished, he turned her over to a friend of his as if she was just a piece of chattel."

"If she was a werewolf, why didn't she rebel and… and do something to him?" Brand asked. "Surely she was strong enough to have stopped what he did to her, at least on a physical level."

"That would have given away what she is and at that point, she wasn't willing to—for everyone's sake. Besides, as I said, she loved him and never quite came to grips with the fact he was only using her to satisfy his own insane needs. Needless to say, when he tried to dispose of her by giving her to his friend, she finally got the message. By then, she was broken mentally and emotionally. Something snapped and in the end she killed both of them, quite horribly. Since then, she has gone on a rampage, seducing and then killing human males indiscriminately. Before you ask why she hasn't been caught, she learned a trick or two along the way on how to stay beneath our radar until it was too late."

"The female of the species," Mag muttered.

"In this case, that quotation holds very true," Randulf agreed.

Sui Generis – 37

 

Later that morning, once Brand and Mag were dressed and had eaten, Brand called Antton, asking if he and Mag could come over. Antton agreed, saying that since they didn't have a car, he'd pick them up. However, when the SUV showed up at their front door, it was Randulf, not Antton, in the driver's seat.

Brand cocked an eyebrow as he slid into the passenger seat. "I figured you'd be long gone, back to wherever you live."

Randulf smiled ruefully. "Most of the time I 'live' wherever I'm needed at the moment."

"You don't have a home?" Mag asked in surprise, after he got into the back seat.

"Define 'home'. I have a place where I keep most of my junk, but that's about all it is." He chuckled. "A storage bin that looks like a house." 

Mag frowned. "Is it like that for all the Enforcers?"

"You've seen Antton's place, so what do you think?"

"Honestly, that you're even more homeless than I used to be—and that's saying something."

"Not homeless. Just a…a nomad. And how the hell did we get on this line of conversation?" Randulf turned his attention to driving while asking Brand, "Have you come to a decision?"

"Since I haven't been asked yet…"

"Okay. If Antton or the council asks, will you say yes?"

"Yes. I have a question though. Is Antton the right-hand man for the council, so to speak?"

"There are several high-ranking Enforcers, one for each geographical area. He's one of them and supervises the western half of the country."

"So I'd be working for him?"

"To start with. Then when he's sure you can handle it, you'd be available for anyone who needs you."

"Just like you and the others are," Mag put in.

"Yes. Ulrik's based out of Sweden. Dante's Italian—big surprise—and Vesper's a Londoner born and bred."

"I thought he was British from his accent, as slight as it is."

Randulf grinned. "Don't tell him he has one. He thinks of himself as a man of the world and thus… Is 'accentless' a word?"

"Works for me," Brand said. 

 "So anyway, back to the original question—yes, you'd be working under Antton."

Brand and Mag instantly broke into gales of laughter, causing Randulf to look at them in bewilderment. Then, apparently, he realized what he'd said and shook his head.

"That is not what I meant and you know it. Believe me, he's as straight as they come."

Brand asked, once he'd stopped laughing, "Are most Enforcers straight?"

Randulf nodded. "Most, but not all. But then that's true in any organization. If you're asking will you be ostracized by some of them the answer is, probably not. Still, when it comes down to it, we're all human, well human in our reactions to things, so who knows what you could run into? So far, I haven't had any problems and I suspect you won't either."

"Whoa. You?"

"Yes, me." Randulf chuckled. "As they say, don't judge a book by its cover. I wouldn't have figured either of you were just by looking at you. Ulrik sort of guessed because he'd seen you together often enough on the streets. But as he said, homeless kids tend to find someone else they feel safe with, as a way of keeping from becoming targets of punks looking to cause trouble."

"Not always," Mag replied. "There are loners out there who don't trust anyone—and with good reason. But I guess that's neither here nor there at the moment."

            "Nope," Randulf agreed, as he made a right-turn onto Antton's street. "In a minute we'll have… well, not more important things perhaps, but other things to talk about."

Sui Generis – 36

 

"What comes next?" Mag asked, turning to look at Brand.

Brand grinned. "I don't think we've got the energy for anything more right now."

Lifting his head off Brand's shoulder, Mag moved to lean on one elbow, shaking his head. "That's not what I meant, although give it an hour, and I'm sure we will."

"Ever the optimist, even in your condition." Brand traced a finger lightly over the bruise on Mag's cheek. "Lovely shade of yuck yellow/purple."

"You're avoiding the question," Mag replied a bit querulously.

"Probably because I don't know the answer. We go on the way we have been—school, you working, me getting a job—finally. That's one option."

"With you still spending at least some time out at night, hunting?"

Brand nodded. "It is what I do."

"I know. I suppose it won't be much different than searching for Fedor."

"Oh it will, because it won't be personal."

"Do you…?" Mag tilted his head questioningly. "Do you kill every vampire you run into?"

"No. If they're behaving then it's live and let live. If they're attacking someone rather than feeding carefully and wiping away the memory, then they're fair game."

"Are there a lot like that?"

Brand smiled slightly. "The city isn't overrun with them. On the other hand, they are out there. Unfortunately it's usually either young ones who haven't learned self-control or older ones who've gone rogue."

"I thought Antton and the Enforcers took care of the rogues."

"Apparently they do, when they're truly vicious and a threat to our existence. You can only put so many deaths down to feral dogs before people start to panic."

"Do you have to kill the young ones? Can't you—I don't know—talk to them or something?"

"I try, sometimes. It's not in my job description so to speak but still, yeah, sometimes I do."

Mag sat up, looking down at Brand. "You should join Antton and his friends."

Brand chuckled. "Funny you should say that. That was the second option. As Randulf mentioned, I might make a good Enforcer, with some training. But—" he took Mag's hands in his, "—it's a decision we both have to make."

"Do you want to?"

 Brand frowned. "Maybe. With the new abilities I have, I could be useful. Antton said that I'm a force to be reckoned with now."

Mag nodded. "It makes sense, I think—especially when you learn all there is to know about what a werewolf can do."

Sitting up now, Brand said, "Okay, I'm puzzled. Why are you agreeing with this? Because I think you are. I figured you'd be dead set against it."

"In case you've forgotten, I saw what Fedor and his minions were capable of. It's frightening to think what they could, and probably would have done given the chance to—to normal people, I guess you could say. Hell, maybe some of the others who were helping him had already. I suspect even Fedor did before he got fixated about finding a dhampir he could turn into a creature that could hunt and kill werewolves the way they can vampires."

"All right, I guess I understand. Still…" Brand studied him thoughtfully. "You really would be okay with my becoming an Enforcer?"

"Honest truth, I'm scared shitless about the idea because it's the kind of job that could get you killed. Still, I suppose it's sort of like being a cop or in the military. You take calculated risks based on what you know and how you've been trained and in the end, you stop someone who needs to be stopped."

Brand embraced Mag, holding him against his chest, whispering, "Exactly. I knew you'd understand."

"So you're going to do it?" Mag asked quietly.

"I guess I am. I wasn't certain at first. It had to be all right with you because… well, it just did." He kissed Mag's temple. "We've been through so much together, in such a short time. At first it was…" He paused. "It was just us being partners and friends I guess. Then—now—in the last few days, I realized you mean more to me than that. I told you, but…"

"You weren't certain I believed it."

"Yes." Brand nodded. "I knew how you felt about me. It took me a while to realize I feel the same. If you'd… if it wasn't okay with you then I wouldn't do it—join the Enforcers, if I'm asked."

"It's what you have to do, for your sake. For the sake of the people you'll save. And doesn't that sound all high and mighty." Mag laughed softly. "Still, it's the truth. Just don't leave me out of it. I may not be, well, Enforcer material, but when you need my help…" He turned to look at Brand. "If you do…"

"When I do, even if it's just you telling me I made the right choice, I know you'll be there for me."

            "Always."

It's release day for 'Jordan Major and the Ghost'!

 Jordan Major and the Ghost

https://www.jms-books.com/edward-kendrick-c-224_229/jordan-major-and-the-ghost-p-5184.html 

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DFXRKWDD/ref=sr_1_1?

 

GENRE: Gay Paranormal Spicy Romance
LENGTH: 60,375 words
RATING:

Jordan Major is a hit man, an assassin. Call him what you will, he kills people for pay. Soon after his most recent foray, he comes downstairs one morning to find a man he vaguely recognizes in the main room of his virtually impenetrable house. A man, he quickly learns, he killed two years previously.

Craig, now a ghost, wants to know who hired Jordan to murder him.

What they find out and how they deal with the information will, potentially, set Jordan on a new course. One where he's willing to take out people who deserve his attention, not innocents he’s been hired to kill.

At least that's what Craig hopes as he tries to persuade Jordan there are worse things in life than giving up his very lucrative, if highly illegal, occupation. After all, he has his antique store, which brings in more money than he really needs, given what he's stashed in an off-shore bank account.

Then NOPD detective Kirk Ireland enters the picture and Jordan's life changes again.

EXCERPT:

On Sunday morning, Jordan dressed, put his pistol in his waistband, and headed downstairs to fix something for breakfast.

The second he stepped into the main room his gun was in his hand, pointed at a man wearing dark slacks and a gray shirt who was standing at the front window.

"Who the hell are you!" he asked heatedly.

The man turned slowly to face him. "In life I was ..." He chuckled. "Nope, not going there. It's way past Christmas and carols, or whatever."

"Quit with the comedy act. Who are you and how the hell did you get in without setting off the security?"

"You don't recognize me?" the man asked, sounding more than a bit surprised -- and petulant.

Keeping his pistol trained on the man's chest, Jordan studied him. There was something familiar about him -- his brown hair, straight nose, and cleft chin. He couldn't figure out what it was, though.

The man took two steps toward him. Jordan's finger tightened on the trigger, although he didn't shoot.

Snickering, the man said, "You already shot me once, although from a rooftop, using a high-powered sniper rifle from what the police told the news reporters. Unfortunately for me, you were successful."

Jordan narrowed his eyes, and then laughed. "You're trying to tell me you're dead and I killed you? Sorry, but I don't believe in ghosts."

"You should." The man continued walking, veering toward the sofa. As he sat, he faded from view.

"What the fuck!"

The man slowly reappeared, his arm slung over the back of the sofa. "You really don't remember me, do you? Think back to August of twenty-twenty-two. Denver, Colorado. It was night; I was working late at the office. The last thing I remember was the window shattering and then pain, here." He pressed his hand to his chest. "Ring any bells?" He grinned. "Take your time. I'm sure it'll come to you."

It took Jordan a minute or so as he ran the jobs he'd taken within that timeframe through his head. "Gibson," he replied, nodding slowly. "Craig Gibson. Your murder stayed in the news for three, four days after I killed you. Until another one took precedence, as is usually the case."

"Got it in one. Seems someone hated Sam. He was my partner and they decided to make his life a living hell by having me offed. Partner is both senses, if you didn't know it. Business and personal."

"I'm rarely privy to the reasons behind an assassination," Jordon said with a dry look. "I'm hired to take the target out, not get into the whys-and-wherefores." He gave a dismissive wave of the hand holding the gun. "They don't want me feeling sorry for my victim, as if I would."

"Could you put that away?" Craig said, pointing to the pistol. "It won't do you any good and seeing it is rather nerve wracking."

Jordan holstered it before starting to pace, casting dark looks at Craig.

"Presuming I believe you are dead and decided to haunt me, and I'm leaning in that direction, why now? It's been close to two years since you died."

"Took that long to find you," Craig replied.

Jordan stopped his pacing to ask, "How did you manage it? It's not like I'm on Craigslist under assassins for hire."

Craig explained. When he finished, he said, "First off, I want to know who hired you."

"Don't know."

"Don't believe you. If they tried to renege on your payment you'd want to take it out of their hide."

Jordan glared at him, suddenly beyond angry. "Why should I believe the bullshit you're feeding me? How could your ... friend ... find what no one else has been able to?"

Craig smiled. "Because he was a denizen of the dark web where good is bad and bad is good. No one there will rat on anyone they consider worthy of their admiration. And Jordan, you are definitely that."

"I'm glad somebody respects my skills other than the people who hire me," Jordan replied sardonically. "People, as I'm sure you've surmised by now, who have no idea who they've been communicating with."

"I'm not surprised." Craig pointed a finger at Jordan. "Do not lie about not knowing his name."

Jordan considered how to reply. He could understand why Craig was interested in the answer. He would be, too, if their situations were reversed.

There's nothing he can do to the person if I do tell him, so I've got nothing to lose and it will make him feel ... Not certain better is the right word but I guess it works.

"Don't go anywhere," Jordan said.

"Like where would I go?"

 

Sui Generis – 35

 

Mag woke the next morning, wondering if there was any part of his body that didn't hurt. Well, any part above his waist. Thankfully, his legs were fine as he needed to go to the bathroom in the worst way. Inching off the bed, he made what, at the moment, seemed like a mile-long walk down the hall to the bathroom. After taking care of the most pressing business, he looked at himself in the mirror over the sink.

Blue, yellow, and puce are so not my favorite skin colors. But it could be worse. At least I'm alive.

He stripped off his jeans, went to the shower, and turned the water on as hot as he could stand it. Stepping under it, he let it beat on his aching body. 

"Want some company?" Brand asked from the other side of the shower curtain.

Mag gulped when his cock responded positively to Brand's question. "I… sure… I guess."

Brand chuckled, pulling aside the curtain just enough to join Mag without letting the water spatter out. "Damn," he growled, raking his gaze over Mag. "You look like you lost a fight with Mayweather."

"Who?"

"A boxer." Brand gently touched Mag's chest, pulling his hand back when Mag hissed. "Sorry. I was going to help you get washed and maybe—" he glanced down at Mag's cock, "—with other things, but I don't think that's happening."

"I'm not fragile," Mag replied with both asperity and the need for what Brand was offering. "Maybe I'm only a human but…" He didn't get to finish his thought because Brand was kissing him then—very carefully, but definitely thoroughly. Any aches and pains he'd been feeling seemed to vanish in that instant and he returned the kiss wholeheartedly.

"You know," Brand said, breaking the kiss but keeping one hand at the nape of Mag's neck, "there is nothing wrong with being human. You have no problem letting your emotions out."

"With the right person." Mag traced his finger along Brand's jaw, smiling at him. "Now that all this is over, I suspect you'll have an easier time of it yourself."

"Maybe, but right now I have other things to worry about."

Mag tried to step away but Brand wouldn't let him. So he asked fearfully, "What?"

"How I'm going to make love to you without hurting you," Brand replied, quite seriously.

"Oh. Well. I… umm."

Brand grinned. "That left you almost speechless."

Mag ducked his head, feeling embarrassed. "It shouldn't have. It's not like we haven't before."

"Ah," Brand replied, "but before we were just screwing. This time I want to make love to you."

Looking at Brand, Mag whispered, "So do I. Want to make love, that is. I mean… to you."

"Are you sure you're… well, I won't say up for it because that's obvious from one standpoint." He stroked the palm of his hand up Mag's hard cock. "I meant it when I said I don't want to hurt you any more than you are."

"I wish I was like you."

Brand smiled. "That was sort of out of the blue but I think I get what you mean, at least when it comes to healing." He shivered, reaching behind him to turn off the water that had become decidedly cool now. Pushing back the shower curtain, he stepped out, waiting for Mag to join him. Snagging a towel from the rack, he used it to dry Mag, being extra cautious around the bruises on his torso and face. When he was done, he quickly dried himself then took Mag's hand, leading him to his bedroom.

"You should be all right on your back, if I'm…"

"So help me if you say careful…" Mag muttered. He stepped close to Brand, wrapping his arms around him tightly, ignoring the sharp twinges where his chest met Brand's, but not the erotic flames that spread through him when their cocks rubbed together. "Kiss me, then fuck… no, make love to me."

Brand did both, quite expertly, with Mag's willing participation.

Sui Generis – 34

 

Mag tried to smile. "I've been better." Then his glance lit on Brand's arm. "Holy shit." He called out, "Someone come help him."

Dante, who at the moment wasn't involved with caring for the injuries of the others, came over. "Looks bad," he said, eying the deep punctures in Brand's bicep. "But he'll live to fight another day." With that, he hurried away, going to check on Ulrik, whose wounds were worse than those of any of the others. 

"Now that's what I call compassion," Brand muttered. "He's right though. I'm already healing."

Mag studied the punctures and had to agree. They were starting to close and the bleeding had slowed to a trickle. He wished his battered body would heal even half as fast. Fedor had seemed to take great delight in pounding on him as he forced him into the cage, tethering his hands so he couldn't fight back.

He jumped, coming back to the present, when Brand said, "We need to get you home or better yet, to a hospital. Who knows what damage he did to you that's not showing."

Mag took a deep breath, felt his ribs protest and nodded. "I don't think he broke anything but…"

"Come," Randulf said, joining them. He turned to the others, announcing he was taking Mag and Brand back to their house.

"The hospital," Brand protested when Randulf took their hands.

"How will you explain what happened to him?" Randulf asked, releasing his hold on them to expertly run his hands over Mag's torso. "He's right, Brand, nothing broken, and no internal injuries. Fedor was punishing him, not trying to kill him. That would have been counterproductive." With that said, he took their hands again.

Almost instantly, they were in Mag's bedroom.

"Now into bed with you," Randulf ordered Mag.

"Who made you my father," Mag grumbled in response. Still, he did sit on the edge of the bed, wincing in pain when he bent over to take off his shoes.

Brand immediately knelt in front of him, telling him to lie back, even as he unlaced Mag's shoes and pulled them off of him.

Mag looked down at Brand, grinning weakly. "If I felt better…"

"I'd be doing more than just helping you undress," Brand replied with a chuckle. "You're already halfway there as it is."

"And quite capable of finishing on my own," Mag told him when Brand reached for the closure on his jeans.

Randulf shook his head. "That would be my cue to leave, I suspect."

"Not before I thank you for all you've done." Brand stood, holding out his hand. "So—thank you."

"You're more than welcome. It was actually fun in a strange way. I haven't been in a battle royal in a long time." He smiled wryly. "I suppose I should be happy about that."

"If I'm never in another one, it'll be too soon," Brand replied with a shudder.

Randulf nodded. "I suspect you won't be. On the other hand," he said thoughtfully, "you might make a good Enforcer with a bit more training."

Brands eyes widened with surprise. "Are you serious?"

"Quite. I'll talk with Antton and see what he thinks about it. Anyway, for now, I bid you both good evening." With that said, Randulf vanished.

Brand turned to look at Mag and smiled softly. His friend and lover was sound asleep, his legs still hanging off the edge of the mattress. Gently, he moved him so he was he was properly on the bed then pulled the covers over him, deciding he could sleep in his jeans with no harm done. "Not like you haven't before, many times," he whispered. Bending over him, he brushed a kiss over Mag's forehead. Then he left, heading to his own bedroom and some well-earned rest.

Sui Generis – 33

 

Mag watched in horror when Fedor's vampire minions began appearing as if from nowhere. Logically, he understood they'd been invisible, but…

The werewolves did what they did best, attacking the vampires with fangs and claws. Dante and Vesper held their own against two of their kind, before Dante, with a wicked grin, warned the others to move back. Apparently Vesper and the werewolves knew what was coming because they did. Flames erupted, instantly turning four of the enemy vampires to ash, doing major damage to one of the rugs in the process.

The two vampires who had been visible at the beginning of the fray now soared upward. Then, as one, they flew down toward Dante. Randulf got to him before they did, knocking him aside with a huge paw. His jaws snapped closed on one of the vampire's arms and with a swing of his head, he sent him hurling against the stone wall of the cavern. The vampire's forehead hit first, spattering blood and brains down the rock surface.

*****

Brand did not stand by idly while all this was going on. Instead he stalked Fedor, his sword held at the ready.

Fedor vanished. But apparently could not resist calling out in derision, "Now what, Brand? You can't kill what you can't see or sense."

Brand followed the sound of Fedor's voice. "You might be surprised what I can do," he replied mockingly.

"I doubt it." The disdain in Fedor's words was obvious.

Brand felt Fedor trying to enter his mind and fought it with all his might. Suddenly he had an ally and knew Randulf was adding his shielding powers to combat Fedor. Knowing Randulf had his back, so to speak, Brand laughed. "You may be old, Fedor, but in the grand scheme of things, you are less than nothing."

"And you? You are my creation now and I will have you back." The rage in Fedor's voice told Brand he was losing control.

"You couldn't keep me then. What makes you think you'd be any better at it now?" Brand taunted, praying Fedor would reply. One more word from the ancient vampire was all he needed.

He got more than he'd bargained for. He felt sharp nails pierce his bicep and he cried out in pain. Still, the core of what he was and what he had become responded. Rather than dropping his sword, which he knew was what Fedor intended, he took it in his other hand. Steeling himself, he used Fedor's grip on him as a fulcrum and swung around, lashing the blade of his sword where he was certain Fedor stood. An agonized scream tore through the cavern. Brand didn't know what part of Fedor's body he'd hit, but he did know now where his head was, as the screaming continued. Tearing free of Fedor's grip, he swung the sword one last time, feeling it bite into flesh and bone. Then Fedor reappeared, his head rolling to stop against the sofa. His body fell to the ground and it—and his head—disintegrated.

Thought he was above the rest of us. More powerful… and therefore, he didn't need to fight or protect himself. Brand shook his head disbelievingly; thankful, however, it had been the truth of the matter. He had the feeling, had Fedor gone on the defensive sooner… I don't even want to think about what might have happened.

Still, the battle wasn't over. Brand ignored the pain in his arm and turned to see where he could be of some help.

Ulrik was down, fighting for his life against two fanatical vampires, blood streaming from various wounds. Brand was beside them almost instantly, lopping off the head of one of them. He started to swing again but Randulf, now in his human form, took over, gripping the second vampire's head in his large hands, tearing it from his body.

"Remind me not to get on your bad side," Brand muttered before moving on.

"Never happen," Randulf replied.

Soon enough, the fighting waned. With their leader now dead and gone, the other vampires—the ones who were still alive—seemed to lose their urge to continue the fight. Two simply vanished. The remaining three capitulated, rather than taking the chance Brand would give them their ultimate death. Those three were herded toward the cage containing Mag.

Antton asked one of them how to turn off the electricity to the cage. Reluctantly, the vampire pointed to shelves on the cavern wall above a work table. Brand hurried over, trying to ignore the items on the table. Some of them he remembered, not at all fondly, from when he'd been in Fedor's clutches. At the back of one shelf was a lever. He pushed it down and returned to the others.

Vesper grabbed the arm of his vampire prisoner, pressing his hand to the cage. When nothing happened, Brand immediately opened the cage and went inside to free Mag. Wrapping his arms around him, Brand led him out. Moments later, the captive vampires had been thrust inside and the cage was closed. Vesper went to the shelves and raised the lever, turning the electricity back on. "That should hold them, unless they decide to vanish."

"If they do, they will be hunted down, just like their companions," Antton said firmly.

"Why not kill them now?" Brand asked, even as he took Mag to the less bloodstained of the sofas.

"The council will want to have a few words with them. If they were willing to kill for Fedor, who knows what other rogues they might have worked for," Antton replied. "Their information might help us find them."

Brand nodded, his attention, now firmly on Mag as he gently touched the bruises on his face. "Are you all right?" he asked softly.

Sui Generis – 32

 

They approached the door to Fedor's lair silently, each man—be he in human or werewolf form—tense in anticipation of what they would find on the other side.

Dante reached for the knob, only to have the door swing open before he could touch it, as if of its own volition.

They faced a large cavern hewn out of the subterranean rock below the cabin. If it weren't for the stone walls, it could have been the living room of a very wealthy suburbanite's home. Plush Oriental rugs lay on the floor. Two long, heavily upholstered sofas faced an ornate coffee table in the center of the room. Off to one side there was a mahogany table with eight high-backed chairs surrounding it. Long drapes covered the walls of the other side and the far end, giving the impression there should be windows behind them.

Three men sat on the sofas. One—tall and blond, with an aquiline nose—stood, saying with a sneer, "Welcome to my humble abode." As Antton and the others started toward him, he held up his hand. "I would suggest you stay exactly where you are if you want to survive this encounter. Except for you, Brand." He smiled wickedly, beckoning Brand forward.  

Brand turned to his companions, saying quietly, "There are at least a dozen vampires surrounding us."

"Fifteen to be exact," Fedor told them, "plus my two friends here. As if that wasn't enough incentive for you to do as you're told…" He walked to the drapes at the back of the cavern. "I have an added motivator for you." He pulled them back.

His action revealed a circular, barred cage, reaching from floor to ceiling. Mag stood inside, his hands lashed by long, leather thongs to the bars on each side of the cage, his fingers close to but not touching them. His head hung down, but when the light hit him, he looked up, revealing deep bruises on his face that matched the ones on his bare chest.

"What have you done to him?" Brand asked angrily.

"Nothing life-threatening—yet. He resisted when I attempted to confine him, so I had to teach him the error of his ways."

"You bastard!" Brand strode toward the cage, searching for the entrance. Fedor did nothing to stop him, only watching with amusement.

When Brand reached out to touch what appeared to be a lever on one bar, Mag shouted, "No. It's electrified." He twisted one hand, showing Brand the burn mark on the palm.

Fedor turned his attention to the others, especially the werewolves. "If you attempt to free him—well, you know what happens when a shock of electricity runs through your bodies. Instant multiple shiftings, back and forth from human to wolf. Not, I'm told, a pleasant experience. And that presupposes you make it past my vampires to the cage." Gripping Brand's arm, he forced him to walk to one of the sofas. "Sit, and we shall all discuss rationally what will happen next."

Brand hesitated, not sitting, but jerking his arm free. Surprisingly, Fedor allowed him to do that, smirking in amusement while pointing to the sofa. Rolling his shoulders as if to loosen the tension he was feeling, Brand then reached back, gripping the hilt of his sword.

"Naughty, naughty," Fedor scowled viciously, advancing to stop him. He spat out an oath when Brand moved like lightening to avoid him, his sword appearing in his hand.

Then, all hell broke loose.