*HF* Tortured Souls
By Mufasa
Tortured Souls
Normandy, December 1944
A 23-year-old Robert Cougar was on a train, en route to the ship to return to the United States. His uncle warned him before he left North Carolina in 1941 that it would be unwise to go until he had completed his… other training. At the time, he didn't listen. Having seen the horrors possibly greater than war up front, he believed he was ready for anything. To an extent, he was… until just a few weeks ago when he arrived to free the concentration camps in Eastern Europe. Then, everything his uncle told him came true tenfold… The spirits of the dead called out to him all at once… washing over him like a tsunami. Not yet having the experience to deal with it, Cougar's mind did the best thing it could do… it shut down on him. For fifteen days, he lapsed into a fever-dream… the dead never ceasing their attempts to speak their mind. For over two weeks, he had a madness… a madness stopped only when his uncle arrived at his bedside and cured him. When he awoke, it was only a temporary relief… for he found that it was his uncle's spirit that saved him… His uncle had just passed away.
Cougar felt his skin crawl, breaking his momentary trance brought on by the swaying motion of the train. A voice called out, silken and subtly hypnotic. "Lt. Cougar?"
Cougar slowly looked up from his Parisian newspaper at the source of the voice. The man was dressed in a uniform just as he was, but he was different. His skin was unnaturally tan for a White man in the middle of winter. His auburn hair was free of tangles and seemingly unaffected by the weather. The man was seemingly perfect… incredibly perfect… WAAAY too perfect… Well, there was also one other problem. His aura was different… like someone who wasn't even human… Was this a different type of monster? "Yes… I am he… Can I help you?"
The man smiled, raising the hairs on the back of Cougar's neck. "Actually, I was wondering if I could help you. What exactly are your plans after being discharged?"
Cougar rested his ankle on his knee, tucking the newspaper underneath his arm. There was something… not right about this stranger. "Forgive me…" He glanced at the nametag on the green jacket. "Colonel Tucker… but why should my future plans be of any concern to you?" His other hand gripped the pole, betraying his agitation.
The look on Col. Tucker's face changed… from that of a stage face to one that reminded Cougar of a predator… a hungry predator. "People like us… people like you and me are born to lead… born to rule over these commoners. You waste your gifts trying to become the 'White Man's Equal.' Instead… become his superior… become his better… In the ruling class of the elite, there are no White, Black, Indian, etc. There are only those with power and those without… do not settle for the 'simple life.' Such a life is not fitting for one such as yourself… or even accessible to your racial status…"
"Not to sound rude, but that train of thought sounds disturbingly similar to what I just spent four years of my life fighting… except without the genocide."
The man stood back up, keeping that predatorial smile. Straightening his shirt, he stood up and backed away. "Adolf was a fool… the first rule of ruling is that there must be someone to rule." Out of his pocket, he handed Cougar an envelope. "Believe me, Mr. Cougar… this is a rare honor I hand you. Do not pass it up."
Stepping toward the door, Col. Tucker raised his arms… and crumbled to dust. A woman next to door screamed in horror. What was once a relatively quiet cabin, erupted in a furor. Cougar slipped out the back, not desiring to answer investigator's questions over the incident. Instead, his interest turned to something else… the envelope addressed personally to him… the first sentence said, "The International Hellfire Club cordially invites you to…"
Bavaria
In the castle of Count Richard von Bonn, they had remained relatively untouched by the war. To the world, all that lived inside was an eccentric old man, richer than anyone in the surrounding villages. Long ago, he had given up any claim to ownership of the surrounding areas. To the public, all that Richard von Bonn would say was that he already had what he wanted. Ruling was nothing but a waste of time.
To an extent, it was the truth. Richard von Bonn was not interested in ruling… his interests were in surviving. Unbeknown to the world, he and his clan were hundreds of years old, having survived by living off the blood of the surrounding people.
The Kaiser had learned of them shortly before the first World War and sought to have them destroyed. Taking the cue from his counterparts in Great Britain and the United States, he had organized a program to use the genetically gifted as his private weapons. He sent his first prototype to the castle to wipe out the von Bonn clan. Fortunately for the Allies, the plan failed. Kaiser sought to use his resources elsewhere, seeking more profitable ventures. Unfortunately for the unwilling prototype, it was the beginning of a miserable existence worse than death… and he had nowhere to go… no one to turn to...
The wind whistled through the cracks in the walls stirring up the unbearable sent drifting throughout the damp moldy room. In the corner of the dungeon room, a man lay on the floor among piles of rancid decomposing bodies, trying to keep some kind of protection from the frigid air. His tormentors had kept him here for over thirty years, living like an animal. After the change, he had been weak… and completely susceptible to their suggestions. Now, it made no matter that he lived alone, naked, with no protection from the elements save these vampire's leftovers. Richard's bitch would occasionally come down to the cell and drain off his blood while having sex with him.
Every day, though, he could count on Richard's bastard son, Rollich… Rollich was worse than the head vampire himself… and almost as bad as his older brother Friedrich. To Rollich, he was a pet… a goddamned pet. Something to play with, poke at, and have fun… and occasionally feed from…
The relative silence of the room was broken by the sound of a crowbar clanging against the rusty bars. "Herr Walsh… Wake up… I have come to see my favorite pet."
The man once known as Patrick Walsh made his way to the bars. These days, he said very little. Long ago, he had forgotten about his wife and children… Most of what he had to say was communicated by a few grunts and the occasional nod.
Rollich reached through the bars and grabbed Walsh roughly by his long, matted, filthy hair. "You are looking a little piquish, my friend. I might believe you have a cold… if it were not impossible. Perhaps, you are in need of some fresh blood?"
Walsh did not want to say yes, but he nodded. It had been days… his hunger was eating him from the inside. It was unbearable.
Rollich pulled a tabby out of a burlap sack. "I thought you might like something different from the usual rat tonight… how about a nice, juicy cat…" Slowly, he handed the cat to Walsh through the bars. "Now… feed…"
Walsh took the cat in his hands and brought it up to his mouth. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see Rollich eagerly watching him… savoring the moment that his "pet" would rip the life out of the cat and drink it's blood. The cat was full of life… much more so than the rats. Walsh's teeth were barely over the cats jugular… then, he instead licked the fur, grooming the cat. The cat responded by purring…
"Damn you… feed… feed… FEED!!!" Rollich's hand lurched through the bars, making a grab at Walsh's throat. Unexpectedly, his arm was caught by the wrist… and something was piercing his skin… claws… vampire's claws… METALLIC vampire's claws… "Let me go… You mongrel, I DEMAND that you let me go! My father will hear of this and he will not be…"
For the first time in twenty years, Walsh spoke. "Shut the fuck up." Still holding the cat in his other arm, he ripped Rollich's arm through the bars, right out of his shoulder. Tipping back, Walsh drank from the tendons dangling from the end. "Mmmmm… tastes better than I expected… you have caviar for dinner?"
Rollich staggered back, screaming in agony. "You… you will PAY for this! I'll see to it… I…"
Noticing his adamantium claws for the first time, Walsh broke a bar from the door to the cell, picking it up in his hand. "Not now… too hungry…" He hurled it through Rollich's arm pinning him to the stone wall next to the door. Walsh kicked the door open and made his way to the struggling Rollich. "Thanks for lunch…" Jerking Rollich off the wall, Walsh grabbed him by the back of the neck and bit in, drinking to his heart's content. When he was done, he threw Rollich to the blood-stained ground and shoved the iron bar through his heart. "Be back for your family later, when I'm stronger."
Remembering the cat, Walsh stooped down, picking it up… sniffing. "Mmmm… a girl… I've always wanted a Tabby…" Walking through another doorway into the cold outside, he slowly petted the cat. "I think I shall name you Buffy… You'll be safer with me than anywhere else…" Fleeing away from Castle von Bonn with his new pet cat, it never occurred to Patrick Walsh just how much the country-side has changed since he was captured... or that he was still naked and soaked with blood...
End Part I
Chapter 2
Lyon's Hill, North Carolina
January 1945
Cougar slowly approached his parents' home in the mountains of western North Carolina. The rocky road spiraled through the thick woods all the way to the top of the mountain. To most vehicles, the rough gravel access road would make it impossible to reach. Most unwanted visitors were turned away by the terrain and the sheer isolation… The truck would make it… Cougar knew it would.
Long dead, Cougar's parents had left the cabin and their three children in the care of his father's only brother. With his uncle recently-passed away, it was left to Cougar to see that his younger sister and brother were taken care of until they reached adulthood. He had no idea how he was going to do that. With the last three years spent overseas trying to survive, he had not exactly cultivated many skills that would be successful in the middle of the Appalachian Mountain Range. Of course, he could use his… er… other abilities, but that was only inviting trouble…
Seeing the rickety old log cabin, Cougar stepped out of the truck and walked along the rocky path lined with hay. Uncle Phil had been bound and determined to pave the driveway, but money was always tight. Then, of course, there were the "hunting" missions. Luxuries such as a paved road and modern conveniences often took a backseat to getting food on the table. Yeah… now you just have to figure out how YOU are going to put food on the table…
Listening to the wind, Cougar could hear the cold weather approaching. Soon, there was going to be a snowstorm… or more accurately, a blizzard. Considering that his uncle had not been able to earn any money while on his deathbed, he had a feeling that they were going to be in a mess of trouble with regards to food and clothing. They were never exactly rich, but food and winter clothes had been no problem… Then again, that was at a time before Joe or Grace had started growing. Cougar had no idea HOW he was going to make everything fit.
The explosion of dirt two inches in front of his feet stopped him in his tracks. In the doorway of the log cabin, leaning on a pillar was a young Black woman with a blue dress down to her ankles. Her brown winter coat hung loosely to her waist. A yellow scarf was wrapped around her head, keeping the cold, howling wind from reaching her scalp. Eye-catching, though, was the hunting rifle… It was his uncle's… and it was pointed directly at his chest.
"Don't know who you are, but you have another thing coming if you think for a MINUTE I am going to let you take these children from their home and send them to a reservation. So take your skinny ass BACK to the child welfare board and you tell them that Joseph and Grace Cougar are being well cared for… and if they have a problem with a colored woman doing it, they can eat my shattershot."
Behind her, there was a movement. Peeking around the young woman, Grace Cougar's eyes opened wide with amazement. The man was older… a little skinnier… the hair was much shorter, but the stolid look in the eyes was just the same. Absent-mindedly pushing her guardian out of the way, Grace shot off down the path occasionally stumbling over the boots on her feet… Phil's boots, which were too large for her… "LEROY!!! YAAAAY!!! YOUR BACK!!!! JOEY, IT'S ROY!!!"
Cougar set his green duffel bag down, picking his 12-year-old sister into his arms. "Yes. I'm back. You've all grown up… Can't carry you around like this, anymore…"
As soon as her feet touched the ground, she answered him. "Uncle Phil… he…"
"I know… Don't worry… Everything will be okay."
A young teenage voice shouted out from the porch. "Easy for YOU to say, Roy." Joe Cougar leaned against the frame of the front door, glaring down at his older brother. Presumably they had really been in a tight spell before Phil died. The clothes he was wearing were mixtures of both Phil and Cougar's. "While you were off playing soldier-boy, Uncle Phil was dying… Now, we have no money… Winter's coming in… What are you going to do?! HUH?! What are you going to do?! We got this ni…"
The lady with the rifle slapped Joe in the back of the head. "Shut your mouth. There will be no talk like that... ESPECIALLY coming from a child such as yourself!"
"I'm no child! I'm fif…"
Her face snapped in his direction, effectively shutting him up. "I am telling you this for the last time… You will kindly refer to me by name… Crystal… Chris, for short… or if I'm not in too hot of a mood, Ms. Reed. If I EVER hear you say the 'N' word again, I don't care HOW old you are… I will beat your behind. Do you hear me?"
"Yes, Chris! I'm sorry."
"Good… Now you and Grace go fetch some firewood. There's a mighty wind blowing and the Farmer's Almanac says that means snow. Get a move on!"
Joey and Grace went about their chores as their guardian accompanied Cougar inside the house. Cougar had missed this place so much. He had fond memories growing up around this area. At that time, though, it was important to keep up appearances. As far as the outside world knew, this was a family of 'civilized' Appalachian Cherokee. However, the real instruction went on inside the house… and in the clearing about a half-mile out the back door. Grace and Joe were a little young to remember, but Robert wasn't. Even after his parents died, the community came out to support them. They made sure Uncle Phil learned of it immediately.
"Crystal Linda Reed. So, you are the Prodigal Nephew?"
Placing the duffel bag by the door, Cougar shook her hand and sat down in the rickety rocking chair next to the fire. "I suppose I am… Robert Leroy Cougar… Roy for short."
Chris crouched down, placing a kettle of water on top of the fireplace. On the inside, a cast-iron Dutch oven with beef stew bubbled, its appetizing aroma wafting throughout the room. "Phil talked about you like you were his very own… He made sure not to make too big a fuss in front of Joe, though. The child has grown a nasty jealous streak. I've been straightening him out. Grace is a darling. She reminds me of my best friend…
About your Uncle Phil, I cared for him in his last days. He told me that you fell sick and would be returning home… He insisted I have him buried about ¾ of a mile out past the clearing with the rest of the family… and that when you come home, you are to go to the clearing. I was not sure what he meant, but I believed him. He just did too much."
Cougar put a couple logs on the warm fire, stoking the orange burning coals in the fireplace. He had to smile… His father had sold his truck fifteen years ago to buy the fireplace… and it still worked as well as ever. Of course, it might work better with a few repairs done on the home…
In any case, Chris had been taking great care of the home and of his younger siblings… even with her limited resources. "Yeah… I know a little about Uncle Phil's last days… You could say that he gave me a little parting gift."
"What? I don't understand…"
"Don't worry… How did you come to care for him? Were you… um… er…"
Chris blushed, stirring the Dutch oven. "No, I'm a Christian lady… It was nothing like that. Three years ago, I was a school teacher in the next county. One of the children's fathers decided to push his affections on me… rather forcefully… I fought back… I struggled. Just when I thought I was going to be vilified forever, Phil took care of the man. We had to leave the county in a hurry, because you know how some of those White folks get… Anyway, he asked me to help care for his nephew and niece while he went… what was it he called it? Hunting… That was it."
Cougar's eyes flashed the second she said the word 'hunting.' The family business… the monster-extermination. It rarely paid well, but it kept everyone fed. "Yes… I understand completely. I am well-aware how Uncle Phil paid the bills."
Chris looked around. "I make a little here and there teaching some of the local children, but it is not enough. Joe is growing every day… Grace is becoming a young lady… They are going to need clothes, especially come the heavy snow. I'm only 22, Roy… The child welfare people already tried to take Joey and Grace twice before your uncle passed away and once after… I can't keep them at bay forever. They're after your land, Roy… I'm sure of it. The same thing happened to Miss Dottie over in Georgiatown… Her mother died and they shipped her sisters off to an orphanage. Mind you, she was White… You KNOW where they'll send Grace and Joe."
Cougar nodded, staring deep into the fire. "Yes… I am well aware… My family had holed up in the mountains when Andrew Jackson sent his order… determined that we weren't going to let that bigot send us ANYWHERE. 100 years later and they are still trying that shit. Of course, it doesn't help that the only guardian that they know of is a colored woman… no offense."
"I'm more than a match for any white men… however, it won't be long before they have guns. The old hunting rifle won't be any protection against six-shooter… and you know they have no regrets about shooting a Negro."
Cougar stood up dusting off his pants. "I'll figure out something… Right now, I have to go to the clearing. When I return, I'll have the answer."
"This is hardly the time…"
"This is EXACTLY the time." He stopped himself and calmed down. He had to remember… she wasn't the one he was mad at… it was himself... "It might be a couple of days before I get back. If anything happens, you send Grace to get me."
Berlin
Angela Willow had lived somewhat of a tumultuous life. Thirty-five years ago, she married a wealthy British diplomat in her native France. At the onset of World War I, the Kaiser's force had rushed in and arrested her husband in the middle of the night. She never saw him again. The gossip around town at the time was that Kaiser was planning on declaring war on Britain and he had been taken as a pawn. She had been spared because of her German mother…
After the first Great War, the place had changed. Everything was a mess. The people looked for someone to blame. A house-painted named Adolf riled everyone up not even ten years ago… convinced them that the White Race was the superior race, fit to inherit the planet… and that the other races must be ground under their thumb. Jews and Gypsies were sent to the camps… then psychics and homosexuals… and lastly "genetic aberrations."
That was when Angela heard her calling… not as a supporter of Nazi politics, but as a member of the underground. Having had training as a make-up artist, disguises were no problem for her. Often, undercover of night… or sometimes in the middle of the day, people would visit her. The wanted people she would send away without hesitation… (after making sure they understood to meet her somewhere else) Then, she would disguise them and send them on their way, using the resources of an old family friend named Malia Trent. In those years, she had helped thousands of people… while going to great lengths to keep her identity secret.
"Erik? Erik Walsh? Is that you?!" Seeing the man huddling in the street, looking into the window of an abandoned house, she rushed across the street with an overcoat. "Sacre Bleu! You look just like your father… You poor man… must have escaped from the death camps… you come in my house immediately!"
Being covered from the cold winter wind, Patrick Walsh tried to make sense of everything. His country had changed so much, it was incredible. It was terrible, the smell of death was everywhere… He saw people packed like sardines aboard a traincar and shipped off to who-knows-where… The countryside was barren, the result of countless battles. Weakly, Walsh allowed himself to be pulled into Angela's house. He had not supped in a while… but he resisted the urge. This woman used to be his neighbor… and apparently she thought he was Erik… his son Erik… "Thank you… Angela… you have no idea…"
Angela brought him in, taking heed to make sure that no one saw her. Although the tide of the war had changed, it was still not over. "You poor thing… I've heard stories about how countless people had been sent to camps and killed… I've heard that in some of the places the living conditions were horrid, but I had no idea! Did they not even give you clothing??!!"
Walsh collapsed to the wooden floor, gently setting the sleeping Buffy to the side. For the first time, Angela noticed the blood… he was covered in it… and there were scars all over his body.
"I cannot believe it! You're so thick with blood… they probably tried to execute you… but you survived! You need treatment immediately!" She turned toward the stairs and called out. "Sigmund… come here! This man needs a bath."
A young man, with brown hair and blue eyes rushed down the stairs. "Mutter… are you not sure he is not dead?"
"Non, Sigmund… but he will be if we don't take care of him immediately."
He rushed over, helping his mother get Walsh to his feet. "Mein Gott… Is this Erik Walsh?! I used to play with him!"
"Take him upstairs… I'll give him a bath and dress his wounds while you look for some of your old clothes for him. I'll tell Heinz to prepare a meal."
Sigmund slowly dragged Walsh up the stairs. "It is incredible… Erik is like a bag of bones, yet he is heavy as a Volkswagen…"
As Walsh painfully tried to walk up the stairs, he looked back at the cat. "Buffy…"
"I'll take good care of her, Erik…" Pulling out the mop, Angela looked down at the orange cat on the blood-stained floor. "You poor animal… After I clean this mess, Mere Angela is going to clean you right up…"
End Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Cougar walked from the dirt path in the dense woods into the clearing at the top of the mountain. Long ago, no one knows when, the trees were scaled back. It was rumored that this was where the original transaction took place… the one that set his family line on this path of demon-hunting. Whatever the case, this clearing is a holy place… to the family, at least. Most of his "extra" education took place right here. Usually, though, it was the summer. Now was the middle of winter… and a snowstorm was fast rushing in.
Cougar gathered kiln from the edge of the circular clearing and set it up in the center, on the stones. Within minutes, a small fire started burning… somewhat chasing the chill from the area. From his pouch, he withdrew several pieces of fruit and set them on the flames. Then, he backed away, waiting…
Nothing. Not a damn thing. He could not understand… he'd seen his Uncle Phil do the exact same thing thousands of times… What was he doing wrong? Just when he was about to give up, he felt the rush of his powers click in… flowing out of him… filling the area within the clearing… Then, with a strong rush, it surged back inside, filling him ecstatically… driving him to his knees…
Early on, his experience in this ritual had been mostly limited to watching and observing. As Uncle Phil slowly released some of the mystical energy, the experiences have been gradually a little more interactive. The first time he felt that surge was when he was seventeen… his mind could not keep up and it overrode him, utterly possessing him. He had felt it several times since then, but it had never been this overwhelming… this overpowering…
"'Bout time you got here… What kept you?"
Cougar grabbed the sides of his head, waiting to adjust to the sensation. "I was overseas… I came back by boat…" He slowly got to his feet, blinking his eyes. "Damn… Why's it so much stronger this time?"
Phillip Cougar's spirit sat on an old treestump, looking upon his nephew. "It is because this time, you are the nexus. Before, it was me. I had to be careful to gage just how much access I gave you to this realm. I remember the first time I did the ceremony in your presence… WHOO!!!! I NEVER thought I'd see you light up like that. You grandmother's spirit nearly skinned me alive for doing that… Even after you woke up a few days later, you were still awestruck. It took me a while to tone the magic down… so your mind could function in the Earthrealm. Just imagine what would have happened if I had brought you completely over too soon… before you were accustomed to using that much power…"
Robert nodded… finally accustomed to this condition. "Yes… It would overwhelm me and I would likely go mad." He looked around him. Where the trees and the landscape was once barren due the winter cold, it had grown with life. The trees had sprouted leaves and were in full bloom… the birds and insects were buzzing around. Animals ran back and forth, minding their business. It was the spirit of the place… That would not die every year like its counterpart in the Earthrealm. It would always be beautiful and lush. If not, there was some real trouble. "If I remember correctly, I cannot leave this clearing."
"That's right… This is the anchor between the Earthrealm and the Spirit realm. If you pass beyond this circle, your spirit may become disoriented. If your spirit becomes disjointed from your body for too long, your body will die and you will be stuck. I think that's how Great Grandpa Shiway died. You're too important… Things are more serious than you know."
"Uncle Phil?"
Phillip sat up from the tree stump and walked up toward him. "You cannot allow this land to fall into the hands of someone else. Without it, there is no future for the family. Should the land be disturbed, our spirits will be in a state of flux. Not everyone in our line is as even-tempered as us…" Phillip cringed. "Especially my great great grandmother… did I ever tell you what she did to the White Man who…"
"PHIL!"
"Hey!" Phillip smacked his nephew in the back of the head. "Don't ever talk back to the dead… Well… anyway, you must not let this land fall to someone else. Chris does not know it, but the men after the children are with the Hellfire Club. They want to test Joe and Grace for some trait or something… something extra…"
"Like us?"
"No… NOT like us. Anyway, they are convinced that Joe or Grace might be something called a mutant… I refused to allow them to be tested… I mean… why should I? I have never heard of this Hellfire Club… and even if Joe and Grace WERE mutants or something, they'd just find a way to exploit them. It doesn't matter, I read their auras… Neither of them have anything more extranormal than the one trait that EVERYONE in the family has…"
Robert straightened up at the sound of those words. "You're talking about the clearing?"
"Yes. Only two types of people can see or even SENSE anything happening here… The first is one who has had extensive training in the mystical arts. The other…"
Robert finished his sentence. "A demon-hunter… or his/her children or grandchildren."
"Well… I guess you DID learn something after all. I thought you ignored me…"
"Very funny… Now, what to do about the Hellfire Club…"
"Use them. Their interest in Joe and Grace will be gone soon enough after they learn they have nothing out of the ordinary. However, they have already been intrigued by you… They seek to use you for freelance work… in turn, use THEM to pay the bills."
"WHAT?! It didn't do…"
"You don't understand… They have money… and it gives you an opportunity to get your feet wet in the family business. Just remember… charge them outRAGEously…"
Before Cougar could seek any more answers, the process reversed itself. Where he was euphoric before, allowing the magic to permeate the entire area, he was now exhausted. When his eyes blinked, he was kneeling in the center of the clearing… amid the newly-fallen snow. The fire had blown out.
"Roy… Roy… please snap out of it… Roy…" He felt his sister's hand shaking his shoulder worriedly. He tried to speak, but his mind was still awestruck… recovering from the interaction with the spirit world.
"Roy… Chris can't hold them off forever… please… you have to…"
He leapt to his feet. "Grace… come on." Robert started running back toward the cabin in a large stride, easily leaping over fallen logs. At first, Grace had trouble keeping up with him, but he used his life energy to push her along. He was not about to have her out of his sight. These people were serious…
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Patrick Walsh sat in the dining room to the small Berlin apartment. It was hard for him to believe that Heinz and Sigmund… two boys who used to play with his sons… were fully grown and taking care of their mother. When last he saw Angela Willow, her features were considered on par with most gorgeous women of the time. She has aged gracefully and is looking to comfortably settle into her golden years.
Heinz set the main course in the center of the table, enthusiastically speaking the entire time. Always a talkative boy, Heinz managed to draw attention like no one else could. "Erik… When Mutter told me that she had found you outside, I could not believe it… I still can't. It was just five years ago they sent you and your family to the concentration camp for being 'genetic aberrations.' Tell me… have you found Olga or little Reichhardt, yet?"
Hearing that last statement snapped a string inside. Erik… his younger son… dead? "Enough of the pretense… I am not Erik."
Sigmund dropped his spoon. "Wolfgang? Impossible… Wolfgang has the scar running down his cheek…"
Angela rose to her feet, nearly knocking the small table down. "Patrick?! Merde! But of course! Can you not see?! It IS Patrick!"
Heinz shook his head back and forth. "Nein, Mutter… It cannot be Herr Walsh… Kaiser took him when I was barely five. He would be your age by now…"
Walsh nodded his hand and lifted his hand so they could see… "Your mutter is right, Heinz. I AM Patrick. Kaiser took me, because I heal fast… apparently faster than anyone else. They put me in a lab… injected metal in my body… programmed me to be a weapon…"
Angela went over to him. "Patrick… why are you not with the Nazis? For that matter, where have you been? Your wife…"
Walsh stood up. "Please… tell me… what happened… You mentioned Erik… Tell me about Wolfgang… and baby Katrina… and my wi…"
"Wolfgang and Katrina are alive, Patrick. They were not home when the Nazis arrived. Heinz ran into them at the college and kept them hidden until I could arrange for them to leave the country. I've heard from my old family friend that they are safe in America… Erik, as you heard, was sent to a death camp with his family. It does not look good for him, I am afraid…"
"And Greta? My dearest Greta?"
Angela looked away, tears streaming down her face. To the casual observer, it would seem as if she had aged ten years… "I can't… God help me… I can't…"
Sigmund helped his mother to a chair… and stood behind her… "They slew her… in the street. At the time, she was protecting my wife and son… they killed them…"
That broke everything that was left in Walsh… his muscles gave out on him. There would be no going back and picking up where he left off… His surviving children were grown… Erik was dead… and his Greta… his beloved Greta… slain in the street with Sigmund's wife and son… by the…
The knock at the front door told everything. It was not a friendly knock from a neighbor, but one from a 'human machine.' The SS… the wolves…
Angela and Heinz both stood up from the table. She clutched Sigmund and slowly backed toward the sink. "Merde… it is the SS… the Nazis have finally come for us…"
Sigmund grabbed the frying pan. "I will not allow us to be sent to a death camp, Mutter… They killed my wife and son… I will not allow…"
The SS knocked down the door and rushed in, their weapons drawn. Sigmund threw the frying pan into the door way of the kitchen, hitting one of them in the nose. Angrily, he grabbed a knife. "I will kill each and every one of you before…" The single shot stopped him cold. Right in the heart. Before he hit the ground, he was already with his family.
Heinz caught his brother, feeling for a pulse… but the blood told the tale… "Mein Gott! They have killed Sigmund!"
Angela started toward them, sobbing her eyes out. "YOU BASTARDS!" She hurled the plates down toward the floor, than rushed to be beside her son. "SIGMUND!!! SIGMUND!!! YOU KILLED MY BABY!!!"
That sound was enough to jumpstart Walsh. Before, he didn't give a damn whether he lived or died, but now was different. The sound of Angela frantically crying over her son caused another image to fly in his head… one of Erik being sent away… Greta dropping in the street and dying… and a woman… a woman who might be his daughter sobbing. That was enough…
Before another shot could be sent off, Walsh leapt from the floor in a blind rage. One swipe with his adamantium claws and three of them fell with their necks slit. Another swipe going up disemboweled another SS agent. The last one, he tackled… The agent unloaded the gun, but it was to no avail. The punches came over and over again… he was dead before he fired his last shot.
Heinz pulled his mother to her feet and backed up. "Mein Gott! He has slain the Nazis… and… he's drinking from them…"
Temporarily spell-bound, Angela looked up at Heinz and hugged him. "I don't give a damn, Heinz… He avenged your brother and his family… and he saved my other son. He can EAT them and I don't give a damn… We're leaving for France… Grab only what we need… GO! Before more of them show up!" Heinz hesitantly ran up the stairs to fill a bag.
Angela crouched near Walsh. "Patrick… Patrick… are you okay?"
Walsh was still a little broken… although the fresh blood made him feel better, he still felt a big gaping hole where his life was. "I'm sorry, Angela… I…"
"Non… Go clean up… We're leaving."
End Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Lyon's Hill, NC
Cougar's Home
Crystal Linda Reed knew this exactly for what it was… it was a good ol'-fashioned standoff. These three men were different from the people who came by before… in both their appearance and their demeanor. The men who came by before had at least made an attempt at acting cordial… however bigoted they were. (Chris didn't feel any need to return their false 'civility.') These men just appeared on the scene, seemingly out of nowhere, the man with the brown hair with the Irish accent thinking he was just going to walk in the house. A well-placed kick and a rifle-butt had quickly taken care of him, knocking him clear off the porch. The redhead was the one that started making the threats… A third man had been in the area, but she neither had a good look at him or saw where he went. She silently prayed that Grace had made it to Roy okay.
The redheaded White man whom she had the rifle trained on was a dead giveaway that these were not the typical "run-of-the-mill" child welfare officers. His manner of dress as well as the look on his face clearly indicated that he was not from this area. What kind of idiot would show up in the rugged mountains of Lyon's Hill, North Carolina wearing an expensive double-breasted pinstripe suit? She had thought that they were attempting to take the children to that Western reservation before. Now, she had a different feeling… a much more sinister feeling. "I told your people before and I'll tell you now… You aren't taking these children ANYwhere!"
"Oh… I don't think you have a choice!" The man started walking toward her arrogantly, not heeding her words. "You see, I can arrange it so that the locals of this county come over and lynch you where you are! Turn over the children or…"
"I don't bluff." She fired off a shot, prepared to do anything to protect the children left in her care. Expecting to see the redhead drop to the ground from a shot in his chest, she was surprised to find a hole… a whole which promptly closed in on itself. The hair on the back of her neck raised in shock. "My God! What kind of man ARE you?!"
The man gripped her by the arm, slapping the old rifle away from her. The sneer on his face reminded her all too well of the man who forced himself on her in the other county… Whereas THAT man had been human, this man was clearly something else altogether. "A man you can't hope to stand against… One with POWER… One who was born to rule over you and your pathetic char…"
A knife sailed through the air, hitting the man square in the forehead. Standing at the side of the porch was Cougar, with Grace standing right behind him. "Release her… before I lose my temper."
The man let go of Chris, slowly backing away. Angrily, he ripped the blade out of his forehead. Unsurprisingly, it was clean… "You have no idea who you are messing with, Boy…"
Cougar held another knife between his fingers. "Believe me… There is much more to me than you can see… Chris, where is Joe?"
Chris picked up the rifle again, reloading. "He was supposed to be behind Grace… He didn't meet up with you?"
Cougar had a sneaking suspicion. For a split second, he attuned his life energy with that of his brother. Joe was watching a third man… He couldn't get accurate enough of a mental picture. Why is that man in the clearing? "Grace… go back to where you found me. Chris, go with her… I'll take care of these two."
Nodding, Chris understood. That boy… he must have followed the third man… "Come on, Grace…"
"But Roy…"
Chris grabbed her by the shoulder and ran around back. "None of that now… he's busy."
Cougar locked eyes with the redhead. "I am well aware of your group as well as your intentions. You are wasting your time. Grace and Joe will be of no use to you. Turn around and leave and this will not get ugly."
The redhead clenched his fists in anger. Around him, bone-like protrusions sprouted from his arms, ripping through the expensive blue suit. "Oh… you REALLY don't know who you are messing with!"
"My turn…" The Irish man raised his hand. What had once been lightly falling snow increased dramatically, encasing the entire area in a snowy sheet. Cougar couldn't see either of them. While he was tempted to go on the offensive, it was more important for him to make sure none of them got past him. The point was to keep these people away from Chris and the children… not to feed his anger about their trespassing on his land.
Just before it happened, he could sense the man directly beside him. He threw his arm to his left, breaking the Irish-man's nose. While the guy was stalled, Cougar held the knife to his neck and yelled out. "CALL IT OFF! NOW!" Immediately, it cleared up around them. Cougar glared back at the redhead with the bones sticking out of him. "All right, 'Col. Tucker', you mind telling me what this is about?"
The shapeshifter transformed again, back into the shape of the man who had met him on the train. His hands clapped rudely, echoing throughout the area. "I knew when I arrived here that neither of your half-siblings were mutants. This was a test to see how strong you were… whether or not you would decipher the puzzle."
Cougar released his hold on the weather-controller, shoving him to the ground. "There are no halves, 'Tucker.' I've known all my life that I was conceived of my uncle's seed. It was no secret. However, his BROTHER is the man that raised me… and he is the one I'll call 'father.' Do not think that you can prick my skin so easily."
Ryan Jensen's expression changed, reflecting his amusement… He has no idea… His eyes locked on the young man before him, and again his lulling voice rolled out, soothing… and almost hypnotic. "The Hellfire Club extends its hand only to the most worthy of candidates. Although you would have certainly lost this fight, I must credit you with figuring out the riddle so quickly. Knowledge is power, Mr. Cougar, and you certainly know how to acquire it."
Cougar backed down. Although he didn't appreciate being a pawn in whatever game this man was playing, he was sure that it had ended… for now. Yes, this man was very much a threat… however he would not antagonize him… until it suited his needs. "So… I take it that you would like to strike a transaction of some sort?"
"Yes… In fact, I see this as a beginning to what will become a beautiful relationship…"
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"What do you think he's doing?" Grace peeked out from behind the oak tree hiding her from view.
Joey leaned over from his position on the branch, trying to get a better view. "I can't tell… He must have been good to get past Roy… He's looking for something."
Grace crouched down, ready to run if need be. "Yeah… US!"
The two of them heard a grunt behind them, sliding down from the tree. Chris stood with her arms crossed, glaring at Joe. "Next time I tell you to do something, you had best do it. Take your sister and go to the cave… and don't you make a sound!"
"But Chris…"
"GO!"
Grace and Joe took off back toward the cave where their guardian had told them to stay. It was probably the safest place for them right now, considering that neither Joe nor Grace had clothes that would protect them from the cold weather. What bothered Chris right now was that the man had gone to the clearing. Phillip had said that the clearing was a sacred place… and that only one of intense mystical training or a full-blood "hunter" could ever learn all its secrets. (Chris, being a Christian woman, did not want to hear anything about that blasphemy.) He had also mentioned something children and grandchildren, but she ignored that…
Whatever the case, the man had come to this circled clearing for a reason… and had manipulated the other two into getting him here. Phil had been mistaken… it was never about the land… it was about something else. She picked up the rifle and slid toward the edge of the clearing, with her rifle trained on the gentleman in the center. My eyesight must be getting fuzzy… I can't make out his face…
The man crouched down, tracing a circle around the campfire with his walking stick. From the thick cloudy sky above, lightning struck the center of the campfire, immediately lighting it. The man clenched his fist and opened it, revealing a pear. Casually, he tossed it into the fire…
The instant the pear hit the hot coals, he doubled over, grabbed the sides of his head backing away from the fire. "My God… No… The suffering… the pain… Unbearable…" He dropped to his knees, screaming into the air. "NOOOO!!! STOP!!! There's too many of you! I… I… Too much… too much…" Around him, a tear seemed to open in reality… What looked like people in agony were straining to get out, but were held back by some impenetrable force.
All Chris saw was the man bent over in some kind of pain. Quickly, she rushed into the circle, stomping the fire out with her boot. Not taking any chances, she aimed the rifle at the man's head. If he registered anything, he didn't leave any indication. "Looks like you got more than you bargained for with whatever hocus pocus or voodoo you are playing with. Anyway, don't you dare move or I'll shoot you where you stand!"
Responding to the fire being put out, the tear in reality slowly faded away, taking the screams of the people with it. The man held his bent-over position on the ground, waiting for the sensory overload to leave his system. If he heard Chris, he did not respond. "Damn him… I WARNED him about the demon… that he should not trust him… Now he not only doomed himself but any of those taking up his mantle…"
Chris jabbed the rifle out, tapping the man in the head. "Excuse me… I'm threatening you, here… Are you listening?"
The man ignored her, still rattling to himself. "It's too late to free the young one from his influence… His experience in the magical arts already makes him too susceptible. I'll have to go with his successor instead… I'll be able to save him provided that damn Tolliver doesn't get there first…"
Chris rolled her eyes, not understanding any of what this guy was talking about. Impatient, her foot lashed out, aiming for his chin. Unnaturally fast, his hand caught her by the edge of her boot in an iron grip. "Sorry, young lady, I can't have you or any of the eavesdropping children remembering anything. Your lives would be forfeit. It is better this way."
"What?! I didn't see…"
"But you heard… that was enough." The last thing Chris Reed saw was the man's eyes flash white. Then, the entire area was enveloped in white and her muscles gave out on her. There was nothing in the end but blackness.
With a gesture of his hand, the unconscious young woman and the two teenagers floated in the air… and the man who would one day cause quite a controversy in the White Court headed back toward Cougar's house with his captives in tow…
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Paris, France
Studio of Malia Trent
"Angela, darling… I am so glad you arrived safely. I was so concerned about you. I heard about Sigmund… I'm sorry."
Angela sat on the white sofa next to Mademoiselle Malia Trent, wiping her eyes with a silk purple handkerchief. "I only hope that he is at peace with his family… and that the Nazi Regime is brought to a quick stop."
Malia laid her reassuring hand on Angela Willow's shoulder. "It is only a matter of time, my friend. It was not too long ago that the Americans freed France from Nazi Rule. For the most part, they left me alone. Being a film maker, I was relatively harmless as long as my films did not leave the country. Stupid Nazi pigs, it never occurred to them that not only did production go unfettered, but I was smuggling people from their country as well. You and Heinz are welcome to stay as guests in my home for as long as you like. Just try not to go through the studio, filming gets hectic this time of year…"
Angela blushed at the mention of the word "film." She was quite aware what sort of films Malia Trent is famous for. It is rumored that even Josephine Baker refused to star in one of them, because of their content. "Merci… After what we went through, we just had nowhere else to go. Were it not for Patrick, I am sure that Heinz and I would be dead."
"Ah… Patrick…"
"I was hoping that you could help him. With your… past time, I am sure that you would no more about his condition and maybe even offer a solution. That and he would like to go to America… and find his son and daughter."
Malia smiled in understanding. "But of course. I do have something of an understanding regarding the undead. From what I can see, though, Patrick never finished dying in the first place. His healing factor prevented him from undergoing a complete transformation. That is why he is not sensitive to light or garlic. I would venture to say that the only way to kill him would be to decapitate him or place a stake through his heart. He will survive… that much is sure. However, I would never consider myself the ultimate authority. My major area was the study of reincarnated beings. Being an immortal myself, I decided a few thousands years ago that I should spend my time studying and analyzing the lives of reincarnated people. After all, in my long lifetime, I keep on seeing them over and over again. Why not keep tabs on them?"
Angela shook her head. "I know less than anyone, but your logic makes sense. I'm just hoping you can help Patrick."
Malia mulled it over. "I can pull a few favors. I am fringe member of the Hellfire Club… however, I do have contacts with the higher members of the club. I'll see what I can do."
"Thank you, Malia… I appreciate it."
Malia hugged Amelia. It was hard for her to believe that just fifty years ago, she was just a little girl. Time flies by… "You go get yourself some rest. I have a movie to check up on."
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Patrick Walsh stood in shock. People were running around in all sorts of contraptions trying to get something of "the right kind of effect" in a scene… The lights were glaring bright in here. A man was yelling like crazy about coffee or something rather… The caterer was late. Every fifteen minutes, they rushed to the stage to apply more makeup. According to Heinz, he had called it a "movie" set.
What surprised him the most, though, was exactly what they were filming. Have moral standards around the world decayed so much that people can show everything in public. Well… he wasn't much better about a week ago…
"CUT! CUT CUT! Look… the whole point of the scene was to further the impression that the old Asian man knows all there is to know…" The director stormed onto the stage. "Where did you get your technique… out of a recipe book?!"
The little man grabbed a robe and slipped it on. "The most famous recipe book of all, but you wouldn't know that. The Kama Sutra. I was actually one of the people consulted for those manuals. Do not assume that I will allow you to insult my intelligence."
The director threw the script down to the ground. "How is she supposed to scream if you have her that CLOSE all the time?! She's distracted… she can't concentrate on her work, because you keep her hovering on the brink…"
The actress with the red hair slowly stood up, still gasping. "WHEW… you should try it some time… the little man knows that stuff well…"
The director spun on his feet toward her. "The point is NOT to see how much you can enjoy yourself, the point is that I am holding a script here… and I say that you have to follow what is on the script! Now, Mr. Shang Chek is done ad-libbing here, I have a film to run… or do I have to get REALLY nasty?"
Gomurr started walking off the set. "Look… Malia brought me in specifically because I happen to be an expert on the subject. Just because it doesn't fit into your narrow view of behavior does not mean…"
The director glanced toward Walsh. "Hey! You! What are you doing on the set?!"
Walsh wrinkled his eyebrows and shrugged. "I have walked in here by accident… forgive my intru…"
"No… Forget that shit." He shouted toward the side. "Marie! Take this man to the dressing room and get him ready… I'm making a replacement!" He turned back toward the actress. "I need someone who is going to follow what is in the script! Don't make me replace YOU, too!"
Gomurr grunted as he walked past the young German man who was being taken to the dressing room. Heading toward the desert cart, he felt himself picked up into the air. "Malia, I did not take a break in my search for the Ascended One to travel to France and have my credentials disputed! I have better things to do than waste my time on this foolishness."
Malia twirled her finger in the base-of-the-neck ponytail. "Awww… Don't worry… Pierre is always gets like this around this time of year. It was nothing personal. Besides… In a few hours, I'll personally direct the other movie. Then, you get a chance to really shine and show your skills."
Gomurr couldn't keep the smile down. "I'm tempted… but I've been slacking off. The time for the Ascended is growing near. I'd hate to say this, but… I think I am going to need away to draw the young gifted ones to me rather than search for them… Bring the Ascended to me instead of traveling the world looking for him."
Malia slowly set him down. "Have you considered using the Hellfire Club's resources?"
"MALIA, we already went through this… The Hellfire Club is the antithesis of my search. For them to access the Ascended One would mean they would exploit him and turn him in the path of darkness. I can't allow that to happen."
She knelt down, kissing Gomurr on the cheek. "In that case, how do you know they have not found the Ascended One already? Can you take that chance?"
"Malia…"
"Gomurr… this is for you… You're my oldest friend. Hear me out. I know that the Hellfire Club has been in your way in the past, but see this as an opportunity. As a fringe member, I am allowed to keep tabs on the Inner Circle from time to time and carry out my reincarnation research unhindered. Dire times are coming, Gomurr… and the Hellfire Club is the best way for you to make sure your plans stay right on schedule. As you said before, they could find the Ascended before you do and exploit him or her. You have to beat them to the punch. If anything else, use THEM to help you fulfill your mission… whether they want it or not!"
Gomurr had to think it over. Although it was morally questionable, she did have a point. The Hellfire Club's power was growing stronger with each following day. Either the Ascended will come to it or they will find the Ascended. Either way, Gomurr was going to be ready… "Malia… Call your contact. You're right. Their resources will come in handy."
Their conversation was broken by Pierre's ranting. This time, it was directed at Walsh on the platform. "Look… I said follow what is I the script… I said NOTHING about vampire teeth. MARIE!! You're fired… Hey! I said CUT… Raoul… didn't I say quit filming?!"
Malia's voice cut him off. "Raoul, don't you DARE stop filming." She looked at the man on the stage. "Patrick… I see you've found the filming area. Go back to work. Pierre, you are fired…" A sneer grew across Malia's lips… "Yes… I like the vampire angle well… Go ahead and suck her blood a little." The film crew hustled and bustled back to work. Malia started giggling with excitement. "FINALLY… what I was waiting for… another Malia Trent classic… my first vampire film!"
Gomurr crossed his arms. She had a point. That was an angle she had never tried before. "Gee, Malia… you are making me feel unwanted… Perhaps I should step out for a…"
Malia shot her head in his direction. "Don't be ridiculous, Gomurr… I still need you for the finale at the end." She shouted across the stage. "Marie! Quick… run across the street to the toy store and buy seven sets of vampire teeth. I'll reimburse you when payday comes around." Malia laughed ecstatically. "I LOVE it when inspiration hits…"
End Chapter Four
Chapter 5
February 1945
Chicago, IL
International Hellfire Club Motherhouse
The music was hip; the band was jive; the party was raucous; people were getting drunk on their liquor of choice and even more so on the endless line of suitors at their call; decadence reigned supreme. The Hellfire Club, throughout the ages, had always known how to party. However, their enjoyment was seldom tempered by the social mores of the time. In many cases, parties of this sort were simply a networking procedure to see what each member of the club was doing and how it would benefit one's self, but this was different. For perhaps one night in this busy social season, this was simply about having fun.
The lady of the hour was Katrina Walsh. Everyone in the room locked onto her their eyes as she seemed to glide down the steps of the main stair case. Put simply, she was stunning. Her platinum blonde hair and almost Nordic features set her apart from most of the women in the room. Her golden mane tonight was pulled simply into a loose bun on the back of her neck and it's simplicity further seperated her from the other heavily made up beauties of the evening. Her warm smile and cobalt blue eyes lit up the room like a second sun. The simple yet timelessly stylish red dress was tight, but not too tight. After all, she just wanted to enhance her beauty, not cheapen it by showing too much. The inner glow she held was infectious. The room could not hope but to smile back as she passed by. Her eyes locked on to each and everyone almost hypnotically. She was happy, and in her happiness she made everyone else feel the same. Concluding her entrance, she raised her sparkling crystal glass to the ceiling to make a toast. The stunning diamond of the engagement ring outshone the glitter of the crystal goblet as she spoke her well wishes to the rom. Everyone applauded and the party went on.
The lucky man one might ask, as if the entire town didn't know, was none other than the Red Bishop of the Club, Ryan Jensen. Jensen's incredibly handsome smile matched that of his wife-to-be. This was not the almost predatorial grin he used to put others off guard as he bent them to his will. It wasn't the crushing grinning death's head smile he flashed as he transformed his enemies to piles of ashes or effortlessly possessed their bodies. This smile was genuine. It was the smile of a man deeply in love and living life to its fullest.
Jensen's "associate", known only as the HellGoat, had not been pleased that Ryan had let a mere mortal woman become such a focus of his attentions. He had told Ryan many years before that he was destined for great power, and when the engagement was announced, Hellgoat informed him that Katrina would only get in the way. Ryan ignored his ominous warnings, to enraptured by his blonde angel to care. As of late, Jensen had begun to have doubts that his "partner" truly had his best interests in mind.
Why can't I have my cake and eat it too, he pondered silently as he watched his bride-to-be enter.
"Katrina, my love, you certainly know how to make an entrance. In one fell swoop, you have laid the men low drooling at your feet, and made their women mad with jealousy. You truly are a creature worthy of my greatness." He came up behind her, sliding his hands around her waist. His lips came to rest on the side of her neck. "Good girl…"
Katrina giggled as she led her fiancé to the dance floor. "Enough of your silly fawning, Ryan. You're wasting this divine music. Duke Ellington is playing; Let's cut a rug."
Ryan's smile grew all the brighter as he was led to the brilliantly polished dance floor. The click of her elegant high heeled slippers was a stacatto backbeat to the heavier tread of his expensive Italian loafers.
"Yes, my precious one," he teased. "It will be a relief when I can finally call you Mrs. Jensen… or would you prefer Frau?"
"Mrs. will do nicely," she purred as he swept her into his arms and began to dance.
The Black Pawn, Christopher Silver watched the couple with an evil glint in his eye. He spoke in hushed whispers to the White King Banshee, known as Lord Peter Kinsington.
"How soon until you'll be tasting the prize which Ryan so jealously covets, my liege," Silver said in a subservient tone.
"Soon enough, my boy, soon enough," said Lord Kinsington in a gruff Irish brogue. "but always remember you're my favorite…..underling, …..and will remain so as long as you keep me supplied with the information I need concerning your superiors in the Black Court. Perhaps, when the time is right, you can enjoy that particular morsel with me as we've done so many times before.
"Whatever you wish, sir," said Christopher Silver giving Lord Kinsington a slight bow of his head. Lord Kinsington slipped his arm familiarly around Silver's waist and pulled him against him for the barest of instants, hugging him close. Silver closed his eyes blissfully enjoying this brief contact.
"Now," said Kinsington with a slow grin, "Shall we go find our wives. I hope they've prepared our rooms…and each other…. the way we've asked."
At a side table a good distance from the dance floor, Robert Cougar mumbled to himself as he watched this peculiar exchange. According to Jensen, applying for Hellfire Club membership would be easy. Just fill out the paperwork and submit, he had said. He would personally ensure that the request was processed in a timely manner, AND that it would be accepted.. There was just one problem…
Cougar did not WANT to be a member of the Hellfire Club. Any organization that put an elaborate event like this simply so the members could show off for each other seemed hollow and false to Cougar, but this was the path he was on. The spirit of his Uncle Phil in the great clearing had told him that the best way to support his younger siblings was to work for this cabal of power brokers….to be their gopher, and then to charge them to the HILT. The advice seemed sound, so why did Cougar feel so apprehensive?
Cougar's eye scanned the crowd in disgust. These people should be ashamed of themselves, living so lavishly while others worked themselves into early graves, just to put food on the table for their families. Cougar estimated that the money spent on this party alone could support his Appalachian family for years, yet what was it spent on here……Booze……backroom narcotics from the Orient….the latest designs from Paris. The pointless conversation of the party was also irritating. The topics ranged from politics to entertainment. Many mentions were made of a famous French film director in attendance. Like Cougar even cared.
He drew his concentration away from the party quickly. Something had caught his eye on the balcony. There was a man there, or rather the man's aura that sang out to Cougar in this vast room of the pampered social elite. That's the guy Joe followed last month!!! Cougar slipped out from his seat at the lavishly appointed table, and going around the marble busts lining the edge of the dance floor, he reached the main staircase. He stepped onto the grand balcony at it's zenith that overlooked the city of Chicago, but the man that had drawn his attention was gone. Damn… where the hell did he go?!
Behind him, he heard a rich resonant voice, which could have carried over long distances yet seemed meant only for him. "Right behind you, young one."
Cougar spun around to see the owner of the voice. Before he had been unable to see the man's face, but now……. "What the… you're…"
"You may call me Shamen, young man. I must admit that I am surprised you managed to pick me out… While away on…..business, you could say that I go to great lengths to keep my identity secret. Being a man of my… heritage, I like to keep my private life as shadowed as possible.
Cougar could feel his temper beginning to rise. "So, you have catered to the White Man, huh?! Being their lap dog? Doing their bidding! Turning on…"
"Did you really think I would allow any harm to come to your brother and sister? Not all of us who are members of the Hellfire Club are in it for the glamour, the fame, or the power… Keep your suspicion, though… It's good… It will keep you alive in this viper's den."
"God help me, if this were not a public place…"
"You are stubborn, that is for sure… and youthfully naïve. Of everyone in this room, I can probably your best friend…"
At that moment, a busty brunette with a black skin-tight dress came up from behind, placing her hands sensuously on Shamen's shoulder. She laid her head softly against his broad shoulder and reaching around rubbed his silken shirt through his open suit suit jacket. Her fingers slowly traced up and down the row of pearl buttons on his shirt as she leaned forward with her breast and hips against his back.
Shamen clenched his teeth together and spun to face her. His hand shot out like lightning to the girl's alabaster throat, picking her up almost completely from the floor. Cougar watched in disbelief as Shamen began to berate the beautiful young girl.
"Look, if you want to take advantage of the younger recruits, be my guest. These pampered brats deserve it for living so debaucherously, but keep your filthy hands off of me. You know your disguises don't fool me."
Easily, he shoved the brunette back inside the ballroom, where she landed on her behind, sprawling dangerously to the floor giving Cougar a view of her creamy white thigh and a chance to realize she wore no panties at all.
She got up, practically shrieking, as she rearranged her disheveled hair. "I am not an enemy you should make here, Shamen!!!" With a sensuality that was almost violent, she grabbed a young waiter and dragged him off toward the bedroom suites.
Shamen turned his head back to Cougar. "Piece of advice… Do not hesitate to use your ability to read life auras. It can save you more trouble than you realize. That poor kid's going to wake up tomorrow morning sick for what he's about to do. That is if "she" allows him to sleep before she surprises him."
"Did I miss something?" Cougar stammered completely thrown off base. "Does she have some sort of ummm social disease or something?"
"You DEFINITELY missed something. Quick…..before they get out of sight, synchronize your aura to match the brunette'. You'll see what I mean."
Concentrating his aura on the young woman's swaying hips, Cougar had a flash of heated sweat soaked images. Immediately, he started rubbing his eyes as if he could erase the image. "Good Lord. That's insanity. They let a pervert like that in this organization. I would never have guessed he was a crossdresser?!"
Shamen laughed richly and patted Cougar on the shoulder. "He's not a crossdresser. He's a woman in all ways. He's whatever and WHOever he want's to be. Things around here are NEVER what they seem. You're learning though. Other people learn about Paramount the hard way… much like the waiter is right now… I do not mean to show you these things to make you feel foolish, just to make sure that you know EXACTLY what it is you are getting into."
Cougar blinked his eyes hoping that he could get rid of that conflicting and disgusting mental images in his head. "Enough with the sickening show and tell. Let's get back to matters we were discussing. I want to know why you went to the clearing last month and what you were doing there."
Shamen turned toward the skyline looking out over the bustling 1940's metropolis. "Mr. Cougar, it appears that I know much more about your family history and your gifts than even you do. As for what I was doing, maybe you should ask your Uncle Phil… since you think you know him so well."
"What are you talking about?! What do you know about my Uncle. Stop playing games with me," Cougar roared.
"What do I know about anyone?" Shamen said tapping his lips lightly with his fingers as he began to pace. "You see, I could tell you everything now or let you figure it out for yourself… Raphael knows me better than to think I'd show all my cards on the first hand."
"Who is…" Cougar began to ask.
"As the years pass, you'll find out. I wish you the best of luck… Heed my warnings about watching this group carefully." Ending the conversation quickly, he walked into the thick crowd and seemed to disappear. Cougar searched for his aura, but it was in vain. The man had vanished
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"Malia!!!!…..darling…"
"Oh, Elaida….You look POSITIVELY radiant. How DO you stay so young looking?"
Malia Trent and Elaida Tolliver hugged each other and brushed a kiss onto each cheek in turn. Elaida Tolliver whispered quickly into Malia's ear. "Tut tut dear, let's not discuss ages. You're MUCH older than me and look only MIDDLEAGED."
"Danger of living in the States, my pet," cooed Malia still in the embrace. "The French government isn't anywhere as thorough when it comes to records. I can be any age I want. You American's are soo precise in your little census reports. Don't you think people will start to notice that Ms. Elaida Tolliver is a bit too 'eternal'.
"I've already thought of that ……DEAR….remind me to introduce you to my "daughter", Elaina, someday." Said Nytshade in a whispering coo as she glared daggers at Malia Trent. Tolliver then pushed Malia back a bit roughly and they both said in unison loud enough for those around them to hear. "It's been soooo long!"
Tolliver smirked, taking a ladyfinger off a passing tray. "Yes… too long… I heard that you're set to release another film….Isn't that what they're calling them?"
Malia nodded, seating herself back at her table. "Yes… It is my first vampire film, but done quite tastefully, I assure you. It still clearly has my Malia Trent stamp on it though. How's the business going these days for you? Still smuggling?"
"Going as well as ever….and that's shipping I'm in..NOT smuggling. Anyway, I just HAD to stop over to your table and say hello to you. It has been so long. We must really keep in touch."
"Yes, we must… People of our stature should never allow ourselves to grow apart. Thank you for stopping by. I miss talking to you now and then."
"Me too," Nytshade said. "I'll stop by later. Ta ta…"
As the two of them turned away from each other, they brushed away at their designer original gowns and frowned. "Bitch," Nytshade mumbled.
"Blonde little cow," said Malia under her breath. The beautiful auburn-haired adult film producer then turned to her diminutive companion, who sat deep in thought dressed smartly in a double breasted zoot suit of the times. Malia proceede to rub Gomurr's shiny shaved scalp and toyed with the tiny pony tail of snow white on the nape of his neck. "Gomurr, sweetie? What is it that's bothering you? Should you not be up and about learning your new colleagues? Harold Larue says that you are as good as in."
Gomurr jerked as the beautifully manicured nails caressed the sensitive skin on the back of his neck. "I'm sorry my dear. I was distracted. For some reason I can't quite place, this Walsh character concerns me."
Malia looked around the room. "Patrick? Whatever for? I don't see him… and I'm reluctant to use magic around here… The younger people in this room are not aware that I'm more than just a socialite film producer. I'm sure he's off somewhere with a young lady. He is quite dashing. SUCH a pretty smile."
"He's right there," said Gomurr a bit impatiently. "See him…..talking to that couple in red."
"Well… looks like he's found his dinner companions," said Malia in a rather bored voice.
"But I thought he was looking for his daughter or something," said Gomurr.
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Patrick Walsh didn't know what to say. When he was kidnapped, Katrina was no more than a baby. He had missed her entire childhood…missed the events that scarred her forever. Now she was over thirty….His own daughter appearing to be older than he, himself was. What a sharp twist of fate… that a baby he held in his arms… the one he stayed up nights feeding and burping… now appeared to be his senior, and making her own decisions. What did you THINK was going to happen. That you could walk back into her life and she'd still be that beautiful infant. Thank God, she didn't have the vampire's curse that kept you from aging.
While Katrina had undoubtedly been able to do well for herself since coming to America, there was one decision that Walsh did not agree with… her choice in a mate. From the conversations he had used his dark gift to listen to, Ryan Jensen had a reputation for being a playboy… and that his girlfriends often disappeared COMPLETELY after he tired of them. Although everyone in the room said that Ryan had grown more outgoing and social… and even FRIENDLY since meeting Katrina, Walsh did not trust him. A man like that can play half a million roles… and as far as Walsh was concerned, Ryan was NOT going to use and then discard his child!!
"Fraulein, I just had to come over and meet you. In a day where we Germans are looked down upon as the scourge of the free world, it is quite refreshing to find myself in another one's company….and one so lovely indeed makes the honor two fold," said Patrick Walsh in perfect German
Ryan had his arm around Katrina protectively before Walsh could finish. "I'm sorry I don't believe we've been introduced, sir," said the Red Bishop with a glint of anger in his eyes.
Walsh was thrown off-guard. He hadn't come up with a false name to use… If he gave his real name, it would cause more harm than good. He knew his infant daughter wouldn't' remember her Father's face, but what to do for a name….a name…. "My name is… Mahler… Kraus Mahler. I was not aware you were German as well, Herr Jensen."
"There is much more to me… to us BOTH than meets the eye. Katrina, would you mind if I spoke to Kraus….. alone?"
Katrina pecked Ryan on the cheek. "No, I don't mind at all my love..… Just don't keep me waiting long. You know how impatient I can be…" She slowly pulled away, swaying her hips seductively… intentionally drawing Ryan's attention to her backless gown and her shapely buttocks.
Ryan's eyes locked on her as she went about the room, awestruck. The creature was as magnificent as any woman he'd ever seen. If there was ever a woman he wanted by his side, it was her. He had never met a woman before that met his standards so he was always "forced" to "mold" them to his liking….but she….she was perfect….. the paragon of excellence in the female species. Katrina Walsh was everything he ever wanted in a woman… everything he would ever want in a QUEEN. Although he had other women almost daily, none of them had ever held such a hold on him. "Is she not a beauty? How I have enjoyed her exquisite flesh… and to think that soon she will be mine every night….Forever. How I look forward to…"
Ryan noticed Herr Mahler's stricken look as he spoke of his daughter in such a manner, and he continued his cruel taunt.
" Of course, it will be difficult to let the other women go… I might have to wean myself off gradually…"
Walsh grunted loudly. "SO, what did you wish to speak to me about…..MR. Jensen.?"
Ryan turned his head back toward him, noting the agitation in his voice was still there. What was it? Jealousy? No… not quite… Anger? No… There was something almost urgent in his voice… "My king informs me that you are a man of many skills… a prime candidate for the Hellfire Club."
"Ja." Walsh clenched his fist together and adamantium-covered claws sprang from his hands like razor sharp finger nails. "I was trained to be a killing machine… one that is unbeatable. I'm told your organization employs men such as myself."
"An unbeatable vampire… how innovative of Adolf..and to think I thought he was as short in foresight as he was in stature when he began his little world conquering gambit." Ryan picked up a glass of champagne as the waitress passed by. "I never thought he would have the fortitude to go with it… especially after Kaiser's experiment had failed miserably. Rumor is that Katrina's own father was the one who erred… and it cost him his life."
"Since we are on the subject of false pretenses, how about you tell me of you true plans concerning my daughter?"
Ryan laughed to himself as he downed the glass. "Believe it or not… nothing. We are getting married… we will have children… and then we will grow old together and die." He leveled his predatorial look at his soon-to-be father-in-law. "Of course, we will rule all we look up while we are doing it."
Walsh had a brainstorm… it occurred to him that at that point he may have been trying to pull the wrong string… He wondered to himself, just which was stronger in Ryan… His "love" for Katrina or his desire for power? "I would think a man such as yourself would much rather rule alone… Why share power when you don't have to?"
"If I didn't know any better, Mr. Wa—er – MAHLer, I would think that you do not want your daughter at my side… even though it is not your decision to make. Forgive me for saying this, but… you lost your claim on her LONG ago. She is mine… and I am hers."
"Even at the cost of your ambition?" Walsh dropped his voice, knowing only Ryan could hear. "Realistically, do you truly believe that you could rule without Katrina being a liability? Sooner or later, it will occur to someone to use her against you… and then you will have no choice but to comply, because of your 'heart.' The man who rules and rules best HAS no heart… he is the man who does what he wants, not concerning himself with others… even a QUEEN. He is subtly manipulative, directly controlling, and aggressive… very aggressive. Love… what is love? Pshaw! It is a weakness… People are animals, Herr Jensen. You are a MAN… a man who will rule. What does a king need of a queen if he has sluts to fill his bed at night?"
Ryan pondered what Walsh said. Eeerily enough, he had heard some of the same things from HellGoat. The more he thought about it, the more it made sense, but he couldn't let this upstart see that he had rattled him.
"You think your daughter will not be both slut and queen, Walsh?" he questioned leveling his gaze on the man before him evilly.
Walsh tensed and bit into his own lip tasting the delicious blood. "You know I could kill you where you stand Jensen."
"You are welcome to try, fool, but others stronger than you have made that mistake," said Ryan levelly.
Walsh quieted into brooding silence, and then he began to speak again. Now was not the time to move physically against Jensen, but perhaps he could outscheme the schemer. A sneer grew across Walsh's lips as he began to speak.
"I'll make a bargain with you, Jensen. By nights end, I shall give you a reason proving Katrina to be a liability to you, and if you realize it you must agree sever your ties with Katrina… forever."
They shook hands testing each other's grip. "You have my word on that, Herr Mahler…..try your best. Katrina will be mine."
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Cougar looked out into the Chicago night skyline from his balcony seat long after Shamen had left. His gut instinct was right. There was no way he could possibly fit himself into this decadent group of the pampered elite. . Hell… he didn't even know if he WANTED to fit in.
"Mr. Cougar. Would you mind if I joined you? They skyline is so beautiful at night.?"
Cougar gestured toward the chair across the table from him. "No… I don't mind at all… er… I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name?"
"Nathaniel… Nathaniel Daversham.… You may call me Nate."
"You're the…"
He nodded his mane of soft white hair. "Yes… I'm the Red King. I've been around a long time, Mr. Cougar. Do you want to know why? Because my talent is rather uncanny… Just by touching an object or a person, I know what is going to happen surrounding said object. I'm not very easily surprised. I have many enemies, no doubt… most of them just within my own court, but this ability allows me to stay ahead of the game. When I came on, I tried to change the grain of the club….tried to create a higher moral standard for the inner circles. I must say it worked splendidly for awhile, but now all that's changing again. I'm afraid, the wealth and power is again warping my fellows into their former decadence. Furthermore, I know due to my power, I know I can do little to stop it. You see Mr. Cougar. I shall soon be no more….and then what will happen to those in the courts. Who will show them the way?"
Cougar slowly sat up. "Forgive me for asking, but… Why are you telling me this?"
Daverham drummed his fingers on the table, never taking his eyes off the young Cougar. "You need to know. You see, I've written most of my premonitions in a journal. Nothing major…nothing that could change world events, just bits and pieces of a fragmentary future. It's on the best seller's list. You might have seen it. My more important visions, however are in another journal. I foresaw my death a long time ago, Mr. Cougar. It's inevitable, you see with my power. I foresaw that I was to give you my journal. Heed my warning, though… It is not to be opend by you at anytime. A close associate of mine happens to be a powerful mystic and he placed a very special spell on this journal. Only your successor will be able to open this book without it crumbling to dust in their hands."
Out of the pocket of his somewhat rumpled dinner jacket, Daversham withdrew a leather-bound book with the word BIBLE printed on the front. "There is information he'll need in here. Do not let him know where it is or even that it exists. When he truly needs it, he will find it."
"I don't under…"
"Good… you were not meant to." He pressed it into his hand and walked back to the party. For a minute, Cougar looked at the book… and then he slipped it into his own pocket shaking his head slightly wondering again at the strangeness of this group.
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For his last night on the Earth, Nathaniel Daversham stood on the roof looking into the midnight sky. He could smell the cold wind blowing past him… the small snowflakes touching his nose… His body throbbed with his heartbeat and he counted the moments before it would strike an irregular violent rhythm and then fitfully end. No witnesses… no reason… just the tragic death of an aging best selling author. "Hello, Mr. Mahler… or should I call you Pike or even MAUL? I've been waiting for you."
Patrick Walsh floated behind the Red King, ignoring the still strong voice of the older man. "You know I don't want to do this, Mr. Daversham….but I hunger."
Nathaniel turned around and looked directly into his vampiric glowing eyes. "I know you don't Mr. Walsh. The heart of a good man lies trapped within that monstrous frame. And it's not your hunger that brings you here tonight. It is destiny. It is written that I would die tonight, and so I shall."
Maul bared his fangs and stepped towards the still frame of the old man.
"Do you really want to do it that way…and risk the telemetric scan pointing it out?" said Daversham calmly.
Walsh stopped in his tracks and then simply stared intently at the man as his soft white hair blew in the night breeze.ared deep in his eyes.
"Just as I saw," said Haversham. "Vampiric hypnotism. Do it quickly… I've never been one to drag things out."
"Walk off the roof…"said the man who would one day be Maul said.
Powerless to do anything but comply, that is exactly what Larry did. The old man saw the building stream by, and his heart stopped before he hit the ground. Nathaniel knew he would be dead by natural causes before the night ended, and he was glad in his soul that he could help this lost child of darkness on his way out. As his body made a sickening thud against the pavement, Nathaniel Daversham was already reunited with his long dead family.
Walsh simply turned to go. He didn't need to stay and watch the old man die. He could tell by the screams of those on the street below that it was over. Strangely enough, he didn't feel anything in the slightest bit for the old man. For some reason of all his kills, this one seemed right….seemed not so senseless. All Walsh felt now was a sense of accomplishment. Ryan Jensen would now be the Red King… and his daughter Katrina would hopefully be safe.
---------------------------
With the death of the Red King, the party had come to a sudden halt. To everyone in the know at the party, the facts were self evident. The telemetric from the younger group of mutant showed that the Red King had committed suicide as he ran his hands over the balcony railings reading the traces of history attached to it's rocky frame. People speculated if perhaps, finally, Nathaniel couldn't take the pressure of his own visions.
Almost everyone, that is… Robert Cougar knew better. While the Hellfire Club's finest psions were so quick to jump to conclusions, he was not. He could tell by looking at the tracks on the roof that the Red King had almost spun too quickly for a man of his age. He had turned almost as if compelled to do so….and the energy patterns he was picking up on were definitely vampiric in nature…but something else was amiss. THIS VAMPIRE WASN'T COMPLETELY DEAD!!
The turn of events was not lost on Ryan Jensen either. He quickly organized a clean up detail and scurried the guests away, making sure there were sufficient "witnesses" to tell of the old man's death. He knew he would be crowned King soon enough, just as he knew that Walsh was right. Now he couldn't afford the luxury of having a wife. Katrina would simply be a target for his enemies and those jealous of his position. He couldn't bring her into this. He loved her too much
"Katrina…"he said sadly as he stood on the balcony looking over the city.
Katrina brought her arms around Ryan's neck, her smile lighting into his eyes. "My love… you know you will now be named the king. Should we not retire now and celebrate?"
Ryan looked deep into her eyes, bringing his lips close to touch hers softly. His dear Katrina. It was for her own good that she must go. "Perhaps, I should celebrate….… but I think I will have one of the whores tonight… Pack your bags and move out. You have twenty-four hours."
Something snapped in Katrina as her arms slowly slid off Ryan's neck. First there was disbelief… and then surprise… and then there was unbridled anger… Her proud and haughty nature that had attracted Ryan in the first place wouldn't bare this insult. Her fist flew, hitting him in his lip, allowing a thin stream of blood to trickle down before it healed almost instantly. "You son of a BITCH! What's wrong… I'm only good for you as long as your Bishop… then when you finally get somewhere, you cut me loose? Did you ever love me?! Did you even care about me?! What about our life…"
Ryan shook his head back and forth, the evil sneer spreading across his lips, even as his heart broke inside. "Sorry… You were great as the bishop's consort. Your skills in the bedroom were perfectly suited for that station….but I'm afraid you're just not Queen material…..Don't get me wrong though love. You were a good fuck."
She slapped him again as she turned to go, heading down the stairs almost at a run. "Damn you, Ryan Jensen… Damn you to HELL!"
"I know that place all too well," Ryan said under his breath as he watched his one true love run away into the night.
---------------------------------------------
Cougar walked out of the Clubhouse. His only concern right now was seeing Chris and the others. Since the events of tonight, he knew for SURE he wanted nothing to do with the Hellfire Club. He wanted to take the book Nathaniel had given him and throw it as far away from him as possible, but he couldn't… Something wouldn't let him.
Behind him, a stunning blonde… the one that was with Jensen came running out, fighting back tears… She was clearly not herself. In her rush down the steps, her heel caught in a crack… and she fell somewhat gracelessly down the steps. Luckily, Cougar was there to catch her. "Are you okay? I saw you fall and…"
Katrina Walsh looked at his eyes, then had an idea. "I'm afraid not… my ankle….it feels like its sprained… um… you wouldn't mind helping me to my apartment, would you? It's just down the street."
Cougar held her firmly as she limped along. "Sure… I'd be glad to. My train doesn't leave until tomorrow night…"
The sneer came across her face. "Thank you so much, sir. I don't know how I can thank you." Just a good fuck, am I? Well, Ryan… you'll never have a clue just how good a fuck I can BE!
And the night grew darker.
End Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Katrina Walsh stood in the doorway of her red furnished bedroom. For the most part, she did not live in it. Her name was just on the lease. She spent her days at the Hellfire Club Motherhouse as the hostess and spent her nights in Ryan Jensen's royal-size bed with the soft red velvet covering… the one he CLAIMED he shared with no one else but her… The plush carpeting, the elaborately decorated rooms, the electricity, the servants, the staff… all of it was long departed from the rat hole where she grew up in Berlin… This apartment she leased was not too far downscale from the glitzy decor of Ryan's place, however it still did not feel right to her. Granted, it was not a large estate, but it had all the modern luxuries she could ask. It just felt so empty.
As much as she hated to say it, it was empty because Ryan was not here. She missed running his auburn hair through her fingers… pressing herself against his well-tanned body… kissing his lips… She missed pulling him across the dance floor, visiting the local art shows, posing for his pictures in a myriad of positions… Unlike the other men in her life, Ryan made her feel like she was actually someone. He made her feel important… he made her feel like a queen.
He betrayed her… chose power over her. He never loved her… All she was to him was a "good fuck." She gave him her love… her life… her permission… whatever he wanted, she gave it… with the understanding that he give her the same. Yes, she has had lovers… she has had MANY lovers, but none of them touched her like Ryan. Ryan's control over flesh was growing everyday… He applied it to everything, including his lovemaking.
She could not for the life of her figure out why he had such a hold over her… why she felt so empty without him… She had known going in, what kind of person he was… what things he was famous for doing. Why should she be surprised that he so callously dumped her in public? Because you actually fell in love with him, that's why!
For the first time, she felt disgusted with herself… Not because of her actions, but because of the reason for her actions. She had run sobbing from the Hellfire Motherhouse in tears because of Ryan… and even went so far as to seduce his young prospective recruit just to get back at him. Why did making love with Robert Cougar make her feel so terrible afterwards? Was it because of his attitude? No… there was something else that struck her about Cougar…
Cougar was not like the other men in that club. He was different; she was sure of that. Power, money, prestige… none of it was important to him. What she recognized in him was a genuinely good person, resistant to the corruptive influences around him. For a split second, when they had reached their plateau, he had accidentally synchronized their life auras. In that instant, she felt what he had felt… thought like he had thought… that alone had put them both over the top. Having "lived in his shoes" to speak, she now hated herself more than ever…
Katrina could feel the floodgate of emotions break inside as she watched Cougar's sleeping form inhaling and exhaling in her king-sized bed. It had been nothing for her to manipulate his hormones so that he could not resist her. The second he had helped her to the apartment faking the sprained ankle bit, she had him. It really was not that difficult… he was halfway enchanted by her anyway. He hadn't resisted until she had already held his pants in her hands… however it was too late. His powers didn't react soon enough. Within seconds, he was in her bed.
She started mulling over her life… about how Ryan used her… but then, she realized that right now she was no better. Ryan used her and then cut her loose. She had used Cougar, assuming that he was just another one of these pigs in the Hellfire Club. Having seen through his mind, she knew he wasn't. She knew that she could not stay here with him in this room… she couldn't bear the thought of looking into his eyes… him knowing the type of person she really was…
She really hated the type of person she became…
Perhaps it was time for her to go ahead and do what she had intended to do after coming to America before she got side-tracked…
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When he awoke, she was gone. Robert Cougar grabbed his aching head as he sat up on the bed. For a minute, he held his head in his hands and tried to clear his head. The woman had some kind of power to affect body chemistry, he was sure of it. When she had begun her advances, he was almost powerless to resist. Part of him really yearned to sleep with her, but his mind said NOOO way… that was Ryan's woman… When she activated her powers, he was so overcome with lust he couldn't control himself. If he had only been more experienced with the family magic, he might have been able to turn her powers off… or buffer himself from them. Perhaps you didn't control yourself because you didn't WANT to control yourself.
As he dressed, he thought about the earlier events of that night. The Red King had foretold his own death that night. Why the need to allow himself to be marched off a cliff like that? According to his aura, it would have been natural causes anyway. (Well… it WAS natural causes, but still…) So how does the not-quite-dead vampire fit in? Surely, the Red King knew that whoever this was would be there…
For an instant, Cougar placed his hand against the book in his jacket pocket. For some reason Daversham was adamant that no one read it but his successor. Enough to place a spell on it? Cougar couldn't even feel any resident traces of life energy on the leather-bound book…
Cougar had two things to do… finalize his transactions with the Hellfire Club and get the hell out of Chicago. A part of him felt that he should investigate the Red King's death, but he decided against it. Right now, he just did not have the energy to deal with it.
------------------------------------
Ryan Jensen, the new Red King, watched in anger as Cougar left Katrina's apartment. He could not understand… the woman he loved had always had lovers. That had been nothing different. For some reason, though, her one night stand with Cougar struck a raw chord in him. He would have expected anyone in the club to jump at it, but not Cougar. Was it Cougar's age? No… that wasn't it… Cougar's race? Nah… that wasn't it either… Maybe it was Cougar's attitude. It was at that point, though, that Ryan decided that he would get his revenge on Cougar.
However, the majority of his ire was not reserved for Cougar. That was placed on Kraus Mahler… Patrick Walsh, Katrina's damn father… the one who forced him to drive his only love from him. Walsh, he would eternally despise… He deserved disintegration, slow and painful… That would be letting him off too easily. No, he wanted Walsh to live… he wanted him to SUFFER… but he wanted him to suffer in plain sight.
Perhaps neither Cougar nor Walsh were ready for Hellfire Club membership. After all, he could have his cake and eat it too. The best thing to do was to keep them both just outside… and set them against each other…
An evil smile spread across his lips. He finally had the power he craved for, and now he was going to use it. The other kings would never directly challenge him… he would just arrange their deaths. No, this was the beginning of a new day for him… the beginning of a new day for the Hellfire Club… and worst of all, the beginning of a new day for his ENEMIES!
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Katrina rushed to the train depot, trying not to trip over her drooping gray overcoat as she carried her bag behind her. Underneath her scarf, a small strand of blond hair had slipped loose, falling over her eye. She had decided that it would be best if she just started all over again… everything… away from the Hellfire Club… away from Jensen… "Excuse me… One ticket please," she said, leaning against the wooden counter catching her breath.
The black-haired teller at the window with the Southern drawl looked at her, trying to understand what a beautiful woman like that was running from. "Where to, Ma'am?"
"Anywhere… I don't care. I just need out." Reaching inside her pocket, she withdrew two dollars, laying it on the counter.
"I can't give you a ticket without a…"
"Philadelphia then… Let me go to Philadelphia."
After picking up the ticket, a voice broke the air… with a thick German accent. "Fraulien Walsh! What a pleasure it is to meet you here!"
Katrina spun on her feet to look at the man behind her… Yes, it was the one from the party… the one whom Ryan so jealously stopped from talking to her. "Oh! Herr Mahler… you have frightened me. Forgive me for my reaction…"
"What is a young lady like you doing, crying like that? Are you okay?"
"Yes… yes… I just have… business to attend to," she said, wiping the tears from her cheeks. Her voice cracked as she spoke. Even now, her hands were shaking.
Patrick Walsh's heart broke seeing his daughter this distraught, but he knew that it was for the best. With Ryan, she would only be a prize… a prize to be played with and then discarded when it started to bore him. Now, she would have the opportunity at life she should have always had… one with a future… one with a chance at a normal life. "I only care for your happiness."
For a minute, Katrina Walsh looked at this young Kraus Mahler before her. She wondered briefly if he might be a relative of hers, on her father's side, because of that light brown hair he resembled her brother Erik. The look on his face was something she couldn't quite place… While many of the men she had been around looked upon her with lust or perversion, she actually believed that this man was concerned about her. Maybe he was a cousin of some sort... She was tempted to ask his lineage, but she declined. It would be improper for her to do so. "Danke. Herr Mahler, you are truly a gentleman. You are going to make a young fraulien quite happy someday. Do not lose your charm."
The two of them embraced, Walsh trying not to cry. For thirty years, he had wanted to do this… he had wanted to hold his baby girl. He wept for the times he had missed as she grew up, a captive of first Kaiser's program and then those damned von Bonns. Katrina was going on with her life, away from the Hellfire Club. It was time that Walsh did likewise…
…but he had some personal business to take care of, first… Repaying the von Bonns for their years of CONSIDERATE hospitality!
Slowly, Katrina kissed Patrick on the cheek, and boarded the train toward Philadelphia… neither of them knowing that as she left, she was now ten hours pregnant…
End Chapter 6
Chapter 7:
Memo: June 4, 1950
To: Robert L. Cougar, Freelance Paranormal Consultant
From: Ryan Jensen, Red King
Re: Castle von Bonn
It has come to my attention that a business associate, Johann Heineken, has complained that his customers have been turning up rather… dead. According to Hellfire Club intelligence, the perpetrator appears to be a victim of vampirism. Further investigation indicates that the killer is Kraus Mahler, formerly a freelance operative of the Hellfire Club.
In the past, you have stated that you can reverse curses as long as the transformation is complete. Due to Herr Mahler's healing factor, he has never completely died and been reborn. You are to exorcise the vampirism from Herr Mahler and present him to the Red Court of the Hellfire Club. Fight to defend yourself, however do not kill. He IS a fringe member of the Hellfire Club after all and is extended certain privileges…
Ryan Jensen
cc. Marienna Blaze, Red Queen
Marshall Burke, Red Bishop
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Bavaria, June 1950
Outside Castle von Bonn, 29-year-old Robert Cougar crouched high in an old, infested oak tree, scouting the surrounding countryside. The castle was pretty secluded, which could only be expected of an eccentric Bavarian Count who allegedly discouraged visitors. Yeah… RIGHT… is that the reason there are no houses within two miles of the place? The warning bell was ringing loud and clear. This old, somewhat dilapidated castle screamed with supernatural activity… the kind that waits until night. However, his senses told him that someone had been killing them off… He sensed spirits that have been freed.
Walsh is killing them off… Why, he didn't know and really didn't care… What he knew he had to do was nullify the vampire curse in Walsh. He had never done it before… Once a body has been transformed into a vampire, he or she is already dead. All there is left to do is put them out of their misery. Walsh was different… he never actually died. He supposed that it was POSSIBLE to do it, but he did not exactly want to try it like this.
"Just like canceling lycanthropy… You've seen Uncle Phil do it a hundred times… He catches the werewolf, binds it up, and then uses some medium to purify the soul. After a few hours, the person is freed… the werewolf is gone… So… um… why do I want to get out of here so badly?"
Easy, you idiot… Phil never taught you the specifics! You were too busy chasing Linda Swain… He had tried to explain to Ryan how he just didn't have the skill to do it yet, but Ryan wouldn't listen. Hell… the guy seemed to be acting like an asshole ever since Cougar started doing some of these jobs for free… Whatever the case, Cougar was going to try his best… and hope he does not bite the big one… His wife and children would never forgive him…
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Lyon's Hill, NC
8:00 EDT
Joseph Cougar enjoyed baby-sitting his little nephews and nieces. It gave him a welcome change from the drudgery of classes. Walking around the new wooden deck, he looked out over the gorgeous family estate. He had to admit, Roy really turned this place around. He paid for both Grace's and Joe's education. The children were better supplied than they had been as youngsters during the depression. While he had once spent much of his time being envious of his brother, now he respected him. Then, of course, he could not have picked a better wife!
"Unca Joe! Unca Joe!" Shani, who at four and half was the oldest of the Cougar children, raced up, pulling on his pant leg. "Hold me… I'm scared! Evil monster men are coming…"
Joseph reached down, picking her up. "Have you been listening to that Karl Maxwell down the street again? I told you, the ol' coot is one leg short of a chair! His own grandchildren don't visit him!"
"No… I saweded them… They want to eat us! Tell them to go away!"
He placed his hand reassuringly on her back and carried her indoors. "Now, Shani… The sun is still out… If there WERE monsters… which there AREN'T… but if there WERE, you know they would never come around until night."
"I saweded them! I know I did!"
"You probably just had a bad dream. Come on… I'll take you back to your room. Your mama should be back from the store real soon. She told me before she left to make sure you clean your room."
"But it's too hard!"
"I know… I'll help you, but you better not tell your Mom! She'll skin me alive!"
"Unca Joe… who's the red man?"
"What?!"
"The red man! He's after daddy!"
He set Shani on the floor. "No one's after Roy… Go on in and clean your room. I'll help you." As the two of them went in to clean her room, Joe had no idea that half a mile away, at the entrance to the access road, a small band of five men were walking up the mountain toward the house… and scouting the area before dark…
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Bavaria
2:00 A.M.
Walsh came to the last room in the dusty… by this point he had wiped out everyone but Friedrich and Richard himself. Friedrich's smell, he didn't sense anywhere around here. Richard's stench was all over the place. Richard he saved for last because he wanted to ENJOY this… He would rip Richard open, forcing him to suffer for all those years of torment… making him miss his children's youth… damning him to an eternal thirst for blood. The animal was always there, but the dependence on blood was not. He would rip Richard open… feed off of him… and plunge the stake through his putrid rotting heart!
"Ah… Herr Walsh… about time you showed up, Ja?" The torches in the room lit up on Richard's cue. "I see you've been quite the busy man, making short work of my brood. It does not matter. I will just create another one… that is, after I've destroyed you."
Walsh lunged at him, prepared to kick at his throat. If he could not breathe, he could not fight… or think… Before the foot came close, he was thrown against the wall.
"For shame, Herr Walsh… You should have killed me during daylight like the others. Did you not know that a vampire of my age is a powerful mentalist? Perhaps not… Then again, you never DID learn your lesson from the LAST time you tried this. You know… before you lived in the kennel for thirty years like a mangy dog!"
Walsh emerged from the shadows behind Richard grabbing at the scraggly black hair. He had his claws out, prepared to plunge them into Richard's neck, but again he was thrown into the wall by an invisible force. "Damn you, Bonn! Fight like a man! No powers…"
"Why have powers if you are not going to use them? As we are so fond of saying, might makes right… does it not?" Bonn's eyes took on a red glow as he walked toward the telekinetically restrained Walsh. "However, I am not going to kill you yet. There is a matter of a demon hunter in this castle… and you are going to kill him."
Walsh strained against the telekinetic field enveloping him, but it was no use. "Ja… I probably am… after I'm done with you!"
"Nein…" Richard von Bonn bored into Walsh's mind, overriding any mental walls he may have put up. He has done this many times over the years to people. "Too bad you are not completely undead, Herr Walsh… Otherwise, with time, you might have had psionic gifts as well… But alas, it would have been too early in your afterlife, and that is purely hypothectical. Either way, I would have destroyed you." One of his favorite things to do was to psionically force them to do his bidding against their will. No rush of power could ever rival complete and utter domination. While Walsh's psychic walls were quite firm, at his relatively young age of 55, he could never hope to prevent one who has lived hundreds of years from overriding him.
The demon hunter, on the other hand, could. It would be nothing for him to alter his life aura to be invisible to psis and immune to telekinetic assaults. He had heard rumors that a line of demon hunters had been granted Estophalum's power when Estophalum was imprisoned in a prison dimension. He would have never thought it possible until one of the demon hunters arrived on his property. He was not powerful enough to channel Estophalum's power or his return back to this dimension, but he had just enough control that he was dangerous.
"You know, mein freunde… Perhaps it would be better to keep you under my control… and make the rest of your existence a torment… you know… to match those thirty years." Bonn grabbed Walsh by the neck. "I can't explain it, but suddenly I have a taste for experimenting. In all my hundreds of years of life, I have never been with a man." He forced Walsh to the ground. "I have overridden your mind… Until I let go, you think only what I allow you to think. See… it could be a new experience… the two of us. Once I try something, I always have to give it a few thousand tries before I tire of it. We will try it different ways each time. Yes, I know the idea sounds repulsive to you, but don't worry… I can force you to like it…" His hand slid down Walsh's neck to his chest, ripping half his shirt off. "Of course, I think the first time, it will be rape… pure and simple…"
Before Bonn could slip any lower, a knife flew out of nowhere, plunging into the nerve clusters between his thumb and forefinger. It would kill most men, but Bonn is hardly what most people would call a man these days…
Cougar sat on the window ledge with another knife in his hand. "You allowed yourself to get sidetracked by your lust… You should have sent him to kill me!"
Shocked by the knife in his hand, Bonn released his hold on Walsh… which was the worst mistake he could have made. Walsh had already been very bloodthirsty when he entered the room… but with Bonn overriding his mind and then threatening him, he now gave free reign to the animal rage within. As he ripped into Bonn with his adamantium claws, he could feel the buzzing sensation through his body… the delicious addictive feeling of giving into the beast within… the overwhelming euphoria as he "cut loose" against the man who had tormented him all those years… the singing in his ears as his senses grew more acute… focused…
Cougar, meanwhile, got the HELL out of the way. He had told himself earlier that he would wait until after they had fought to confront Mahler, but the rat he had been using to spy on the vampire let him know that would not have been a good idea.
That knife stuck in Bonn's hand had already overridden his nervous system with shock. He could not concentrate enough for psionics. All he had was his vampire strength and speed… but that was more than evened out by Walsh's powers… not including the shadowsliding. The martial arts made it all the worse…
In the end, Walsh stood over Richard von Bonn covered in blood, ripping into him repeatedly with the claws from his fingers. Walsh slit Bonn's throat and then drank the blood running out of it greedily… laughing that he had finally made Bonn suffer… It was the thrill of the kill as he finally satiated his thirst… which was only made sweeter by the fact that it was the man that did this to him… the man that had so destroyed his life…
The sight before him was too much for Cougar to bear. He doubled over, throwing up his dinner earlier. "Shit…"
Thrusting the stake through Bonn's heart, Walsh stood up dripping in blood. Wiping his mouth with his wrist, he now turned to face Cougar… still caught in the throes of the animal rage… drunk from the feeling of letting his animal instincts take over… Without warning, he leapt at Cougar.
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Lyon's Hill, NC
Crystal Linda Reed Cougar ran down one of the new secret passageways beneath the house, carrying three-year old Zeke in one hand and her two-year-old John in the other. In her 27 years of life, she has seen quite a lot. However, she had never seen anything quite like this. She had known that her husband's involvement with the Hellfire Club would get them in trouble sooner or later… but she had never thought that it would be while she was raising four children and expecting another. "Joseph! You got the girls?"
Joe Cougar carried Shani and Carolyn his arms as he ran after her. "I have them… Boy, is Roy gonna GET it when he gets back!"
"Shush! We don't have time for that!"
Joe reached the door. "Here it is… the bomb shelter. They can't get in through this… I hope…"
Chris rushed inside setting the toddlers down on the blankets inside. Turning around, Joe handed her first Carolyn and then Shani, giving each of them a kiss on the cheek before handing them over. "Joe… come on!"
"No, Chris. You stay here… I'm going to lead the werewolves away from you and the children!"
"NO! No time for any of those heroics! Get your ass in here!"
He glanced down the passageway… hearing the trapdoor bust right through. "No… I can't let anything happen to you guys! Deadbolt the inner door!" Quickly, he slammed the outer door shut, placing the lock on it so that it could be opened from the inside but not the outside. On the inside, Chris locked the inner door… then turned to the children.
"Mommy… will Unca Joe be okay?"
"Yes… Yes he will… Now sit down and wait… and pray like Mommy taught you!"
Chris sat down on the blanket, placing a rifle at the side. Huddling the children next to her, she held them as they silently closed their eyes. As she felt the children latch onto her, for the first time in years she allowed herself to cry.
End Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chris Reed thought back to two years ago when Katrina Walsh had the nervous breakdown and was institutionalized. She had told Roy that ALL of his children needed to grow up knowing each other… but that she would stay at home while he went to Pennsylvania to straighten it out. (She had figured that while the state of Pennsylvania MIGHT willingly hand over dirty-blond-haired children over to their Cherokee fathers, they WOULD have problems with a Cherokee father with a Black wife!) She thought back just five years when the child welfare people had come for Joe and Grace… NO ONE deserved to be raised in an orphanage… whether they were her children or not! "Ssssh… it is going to be okay…"
Two hours later, Joseph's voice called out. "Chris… it's okay. They're dead… they're all dead."
Chris ran to the door, pulling it open. She saw Joe standing before her with a big knot on his head and a deep, jagged cut on his arm. "JOE!!!" She tore a strip off her dress and immediately began to dress the wound. "Are you…"
"Yes… I'm okay… A little tired. I thought for sure that I was a goner. I tripped over a rock and fell into the creek. They had me surrounded… all they would have had to do was leap. Then… they disappeared… They were turned to dust. I saw the man, who sat up there just smiling. Then… he crumbled to dust too. I don't understand."
"I'm just glad you're safe… Don't you EVER do anything like that again!" She slapped him in the back of the scalp. "Didn't I teach you better than that?"
"Yes… Come on. I think it's safe."
What Joe had neglected to tell his sister-in-law was that the jagged gash on his arm had not come from the fall… He had got it before… when he was nearly gutted by one of the werewolves…
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Bavaria
Cougar had barely managed to knock Walsh away from him. As a young child, he had learned the art of defending himself quite well from Uncle Phil. Phil had said to him that he was going to have to hone his skills, because one day he was going to need them. He never knew just how right he was. There was just one problem… he couldn't HOPE to compete against Walsh. While the animal-like rage was no problem, the fact that Walsh was basically a human weapon with a metal skeleton and martial arts skills out the wazoo made him probably the most dangerous foe he had ever faced.
"Can't you see I'm trying to help you?" Cougar leapt out the window, swinging onto a tree limb. Walsh was in the air flying straight at him. "Damn… he can fly…" Cougar knew he couldn't keep running from Walsh. He would tire out soon and Walsh would have him. Curse you, Jensen… You KNEW about the skeleton… about EVERYTHING and didn't tell me!
Walsh laughed at the chase Cougar was giving him… it would not matter… he would catch Cougar no matter how fast or how long Cougar ran. Hell… he could have already caught Cougar right now… but the feast is SOOOO much better when the prey is running… the blood is warmer… Nothing beat the thrill of the hunt… NOTHING… Well… there was one thing… "Why do you run, young one? It is only the grim reaper come to feast on your soul…"
Cougar dropped to the ground breaking into a sprint. This was not good… this was WAY not good. "No thank you… The wife wouldn't like it. Have you considered hasenpfeffer? I hear it is good…"
Walsh's foot crashed into the back of Cougar's head, sending him into a somersault. Cougar landed on his back… hard. With the wind knocked out of him, and his vision somewhat blurry, he knew that he was not getting away. "No, young one… Boiled rabbit has never been filling…" He raised his arm in the air, prepared to bring it down on Cougar's neck, knowing he was stunned. "Not NEARLY enough blood for me…"
In desperation, Cougar lashed out with his life aura, manipulating Walsh's to knock him out of the loop. For the briefest of instants, he felt Walsh's bloodlust and thought his thoughts… and immediately understood. Of course… it was all in the aura, but he didn't look at it. Mahler was Katrina's father… the grandfather of his ch…
Walsh stopped his arm just before Cougar's neck… the claws never having touched his skin. The man below him had done something… "My thirst for blood… it is not there?"
Cougar pushed his arm out of the way, sitting up. "No… it is there… I just temporarily blocked it. I might be able to remove the curse altogether… if I am powerful enough…"
Walsh helped Cougar up. "You would do that… for me?"
"Yes… and I am going to try… provided I hold out… I can tell by reading your aura that you heal fast…"
"Ja… that is correct."
"I am going to amplify your healing… help it against the vampirism… Then, what I will try to do is use my life energy as a medium to filter out the curse."
"Can you do that? Is that how it is usually done?"
Cougar weakly smiled. "My life signature cannot completely remove the curse… for it is not pure itself. And as for whether or not I can… I've never tried it."
Walsh slapped Cougar on the back, momentarily forgetting about the adamantium skeleton lacing his bones. Cougar was knocked forward off his feet a little. "It is more than anyone else has done…"
Cougar rubbed his shoulder, looking at the German. "It will also amplify your animal senses… I need for you to keep it under control." Cougar reached out with his life energy, slowly turning up Walsh's healing factor… the electric static between them filling the air.
Walsh crouched down, allowing the euphoria to wash over him. Feeling nothing even resembling rage, he relished the sensation of overwhelming power… his senses sharper then ever… the rush of blood pounding throughout him… the buzzing sensation everywhere… the "singing in his ears" as he called it. This time, he did not hunger for blood… he did not hunger to fight… All he wanted to do was run through the countryside… feeling the ground under his feet and the wind on his skin… He wanted to live for the sheer joy of living, now… he wanted to enjoy it…
Cougar started shaking. "I can't channel it through me… not and keep it going… It isn't like a werewolf's… I'm not powerful enough…"
"Keep trying, young one…"
Cougar relaxed as he tried it again… then without explanation, the world went black for both of them.
The Red King Ryan Jensen stepped out where the two of them lay on the ground, unconscious. "Cougar… you should be more careful next time… You were so busy with Walsh, you didn't sense me!" He ran up, kicking Cougar in the chin… watching his body flop into the air. "I am going to ENJOY killing you…"
With a puff of smoke and a ball of fire, Ryan Jensen was knocked away from Cougar. "NO! He's MINE!" The HellGoat walked out standing in-between Cougar and Jensen. "If you wish to manipulate him, then that is your option… HOWEVER, be aware that he is my property. You are not to kill him… especially over an unfaithful whore! Cougar is worth more to me than a thousand blonde bitches!"
"You try my patience, 'old friend.'"
With a clench of his fist, Ryan was engulfed in Hellfire… "REMEMBER who made you the person you are today! Before you were some weakling… DYING, from all things, from an explosion… I taught you to use your powers… I TAUGHT you control! Do not even begin to think you can challenge me!" Extinguishing it, HellGoat walked over to Cougar, grabbing him by the chin. "It may not be him, but it will be the next one… I have already made the arrangements to bring the probabilities in my favor. Without Cougar to do my bidding, it will not come to pass."
Ryan walked over, spitting on Cougar in disgust. "I have no idea what the hell you are talking about!"
"Good… you aren't supposed to! Do what you want… but do not kill him or maim him in anyway…"
Ryan looked down at the two men below him as his "associate" disappeared… Well… He might not be able to kill him… but he might be able to turn it in his favor anyway…
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Cougar's eyes blinked open… Where am I? He looked around and saw the red layout of the room. "What the…" He slowly sat up in the bed, glancing outside. "This is not Bavaria…"
Ryan's voice shattered the quiet of the room. "No… this is NOT Bavaria… This is Las Vegas… the new home of the Red Court. I see you have finally waken up."
Cougar grabbed his head. The last thing he remembered was trying to filter the vampire curse… and then… blackness. Had he failed? "How long have I been out?"
"I found you a couple of days ago… where Kraus Mahler had disemboweled you."
Cougar clenched his teeth. "You mean… WALSH! Why did you not tell me he had an adamantium skeleton? THAT HE WAS KATRINA'S FATHER?!" Immediately after his outburst, he contorted in pain… pain from having been latched onto through the red…
"You forget who you are talking to, Mr. Cougar. I simply did not know… It is simple as that."
Cougar slowly changed his life energy… trying to make himself immune to Ryan's manipulations… but he hadn't quite got it yet… "Bullshit… I know of your power, Ryan… You knew before he did! I'm telling you… I'm through… finished… DONE with the Hellfire Club!" Finally, it slid into place. He stood up, making a grab for his clothes. "That was the last time I do ANYTHING for the Hellfire Club… Do not call me… I will not be answering... as my brother has said… take the hint!"
Ryan smiled as he slowly turned around to face the young Cherokee who was now putting on his shoes. "Oh… I don't think it is that simple, Mr. Cougar. You see… just before I came to check on you, I stopped by at Lyon's Hill…"
Cougar stopped cold… feeling his heart pound in his chest. The hair on his neck rose as he faced the Red King. "Why were you at my home?"
"It seems that the older brothers of Juan Torres, that Puerto Rican you dispatched in New York last year, came by to take avenge their little brother's death… but you were not home. Your wife Crystal and your brother Joseph were there, of course… with your children… And of COURSE, Katrina's ch…"
Cougar felt the sweat pouring down his body… his muscles grew weak… "Oh my god… are they okay? They aren't…"
"No, Mr. Cougar, they are all fine. I could not allow anything to happen to the last remnant of Katrina… the woman she once was… even IF it was your spawn. They are alive… and well. But, you realize that now you owe me… and I ALWAYS claim my debts!"
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Marrina Blaze, the Red Queen, smiled down at the man before her. "Mr. Mahler… As you know, we are the only ones willing to do anything about your condition. We have the finest resources in the entire world, Mr. Mahler… and our scientists are renowned for their brilliance. In return for our research, you are expected to pledge your alliances to the Hellfire Club… SPECIFICALLY to the Red Court… as our freelance assassin. If you are not up to the job, tell me right now… because the Red Court neither has the patience nor the time to waste our resources on someone who will not be faithful to us and to us alone."
Patrick Walsh spoke slowly… deliberately. "Ja."
"Good… from this point on, you will be known as Operative Pike. For the meantime, you will stay at our headquarters in Juneau until you receive the assignment. Please do try not to thin out the population too much. Conserve blood as best you can… You would be stationed in a place more populous, but for now that is the most inconspicuous place…"
As the Red Queen rattled on, Patrick Walsh felt a deep pain in his gut… a pain that he never knew if it would heal. Now, he was confronted with the fact that this curse would be around forever… and that he would never live the life he so desired… He had no idea where Wolfgang was… and Katrina? She was catatonic… a victim of depression and her own power to control bodily chemicals…
As of this point, he had nothing to live for… because as Ryan lost what he cherished to Pike, Pike lost it to Ryan. Ryan was punishing him… for forcing him to give up Katrina. Pike knew the truth… Cougar nearly removed the curse… but Ryan stopped him. Ryan told Walsh that Cougar had impregnated Katrina… and that should Walsh EVER move against him, he would kill EVERY ONE of Walsh's descendants… Katrina, Wolfgang… and the grandchild(ren) he would never know…
End Chapter 8
Epilogue:
(Yes… I know… I NEVER write epilogues, but I really did feel that this one needed one…)
A little bit before the present day
"Fraulien, you are ever as beautiful in person as in reputation." Kraus Mahler bent down, kissing the hand of the newly-crowned White Queen.
Sharon Stokes blushed, resisting the urge to laugh. She couldn't laugh her first hour on the job… especially not while she had her other arm still wrapped around Grover's! He'd likely have a fit! Well… he might, anyway… "Cut that out… people are going to think I'm the RED Queen if you keep this up!"
The White King Grover cringed as he tapped Mahler on the shoulder. "Can't have THAT can we? All right, Grampa Drac… go greet the other new inductees."
Sharon looked at Grover. "Grover… come on… This is the reception; the ceremony is over. I have to admit, though… I'm not exactly used to it."
"Good… because I think this is the beginning of a lot of changes… If you'll excuse me…" Grover went on about his way, shaking hands and greeting people.
Sharon picked up a drink off the table and turned to the man next to her. "So… Mr. Mahler… how long have you been in the Hellfire Club?"
"A VERY long time, Fraulien… It was only recently that I enlisted in the Hellions."
"Okay… So… what… you've been doing freelance?"
"Ja… you might say that…"
At that moment, Khalid Hunter accidentally bumped into Sharon from behind. "Damn… Why do these kids keep on bumping me? If I didn't know any better, I'd say they were pissed."
"It is BECAUSE, Herr Hunter… you ascended to an Inner Circle position rather quickly."
Khalid caught a look at this man… he wasn't sure what it was, but something was off about him. "Gee, Sharon… One hour in the new job and you already attracted a new stalker."
"KHALID!" Sharon Stokes glared at Khalid… and then burst out laughing. "I CANNOT believe you said that!"
Khalid extended his hand toward Maul reluctantly. "Well… Hello. Since you already know my name…" Maul grasped his hand… and then stepped in much closer, sniffing his wrist… his chest… and then his neck. Khalid's eyebrows raised as he stood still… more out of shock than anything else. This guy's practically crushing my hand! "Um… Okay… Sharon… your stalker is sniffing me… Um… can you tell him that I'm not that kind of guy?"
Sharon slowly set her drink down as she craned her head to figure out what in the world Mahler was doing. "Um… Mr. Mahler… forgive me for asking, but… What the hell are you doing? If you want to know what kind of cologne he is wearing, I'm sure you can ask him…"
Khalid stepped back a little nervously… still a little shocked. "Um… excuse me… you are crushing my hand… and I have a gig tomorrow… not to mention that this does not exactly look good…"
Mahler finally spoke, not replying to Khalid's request. The tone of his voice was low… but harried. "Herr Hunter… you have Cougar's blood in your veins, Ja? The smell of the energy is strong…"
Khalid rolled his eyes. "Great… he knows Grandpop… It figures… um… can you like… let my hand go… this is really kind of embarrassing…"
Sharon brought her hand to her mouth trying not to laugh at the scene. "Whose stalker is he NOW, Khalid?"
Abruptly, Mahler let go taking a step back. He smiled, apparently with approval. "The animal… it sings within you, Ja?"
"Have you been hitting the alcohol a little much?"
"Perhaps. We will talk later."
The new White Queen and White Rook watched Kraus Mahler walk away, shaking their heads in disbelief at the scene. Within minutes, though, they were talking and having a good time.
Kraus Mahler smiled as well… probably the first genuine smile in years. At first, he wasn't sure… but he recognized that scent. It was the same scent Cougar radiated when he tried to cast that spell nearly 50 years ago, except that this Hunter kid did it naturally and easily… and it was stronger. What REALLY interested Mahler, though, was another scent… the scent of a man who fundamentally is the same as he is… the scent of a man whose instincts are survival… the scent of a man… whose nature is just as savage and bestial as his is…
He was SURE of it. Khalid Hunter was his great-grandson.
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Crystal Lakes Nursing Home
The nurses buzzed about Crystal Lakes Nursing Home making their rounds. It had been named after a stunning tabloid reporter who had been brutally murdered by her husband. She had been particularly known for being one of the main contributors to the endowment fund which provided the absolute best care for the senior citizens of New York City.
On of the oldest guests there goes by the name of gray-haired dame named Katrina Walsh, riddled with osteoporosis. The nurses affectionately refer to her as "Grandma." She had been there for almost fifty years. All the time, she has the exact same expression on her face. She rarely moves, except for to eat and to walk to the bathroom. Then, she returns to her wheelchair and sits… never speaking… never making a sound. It is like she is in her own little world. "Ms. Walsh… somebody has come to see you! I think you have a courter!" The blonde nurse beamed through the door. "Mr. Daniels… I'd say that she is ready to see you."
An old man walked slowly in the room… his scalp bald with purple patches with hair coming out of his ears. "Thank you, nurse… If you don't mind… I'd like to be left alone with her."
"No problem, sir… I'll be back here to check on her in five minutes. You know, I think she recognizes you. Her eyes aren't usually open that wide." Without saying another word, the nurse slipped out the door.
The old man kneeled beside her, taking her hand into his. Slowly, he slid a diamond ring on her fourth finger. "This is the way we should have been… the two of us… growing old… and living with each other. Perhaps we could have retired to our own island…" The temperature of the room heated up a few degrees. Where before Katrina's hand was rough and pale with age, it grew soft and delicate. Her gray, brittle hair had been replaced with long, flowing gold.
A well-tanned hand took her chin, bringing it up to meet his. It was not a passionate kiss as one between enamorate lovers, but rather a short kiss… just as emotional, but not full of lust. "You know, my love… Today is the anniversary of that party… that party I became Red King… that party I made the biggest mistake of my life allowing you… the only TRUE queen I've had out of my life. If I had it to do over again, I would give it all… but with you in this state… it is all I have left." The Red King reached over, kissing her on the cheek. "My dearest… all those women… they'll never be you… I should know… I've tried…"
In a few seconds, the stunning beauty that was Katrina Walsh was replaced with the mature, eighty-five year old version… the shell was the same, as always, but the inside was barren of life. Ryan Jensen resumed his disguise, leaving the room silently.
Were he attentive, he would have noticed a small change. It was nothing grand, but it was significant nonetheless. Just two small tears streaming down Katrina's cheeks…
The End