Chapter Two:
Coping
The Carpathian compound of the cleaners boasted a total of ten floors; two above ground and the remaining eight below. There was enough room onsite to house the forty eight active soldiers and their leaders, the thirty seven communications staff, ten security specialists, three medical staff, the commander of the cleaners along with his assistant and three personal guards. In addition to rooms and sleeping quarters, the compound also had its own gymnasium with shooting range, its own underground parking garage with secret access to every road around the Carpathian Mountains, and a fully stocked clinic.
Every one of the rooms for the mortals was located below ground. As if treated like royalty, it was Michael and Selene who were granted the mansion-like two story house aboveground. There were even spare empty bedrooms for whatever family they would have in the future.
Despite all of the room in the compound, there was little to do in the mansion that was not in some way related to mission work or scouting. There was television featuring full range of satellite, as well as computer and web access in every room, a decent assortment of books collated over the decades by the employees of Corvinus, and a courtyard that was so tranquil it simply lulled you to sleep.
But none of these appealed to a mind that had been constantly engaged in battle for six centuries.
Selene felt as though she had been told to switch off, forget everything, close her mind to the past in order to focus on the future. She may have understood the reasoning behind Michael's request, but that did not mean she had to be happy with it.
In the back of her mind, she wondered if there was a possibility that she would lose Michael if anything happened to the baby. He was kind and caring, very supportive and understanding of her needs. His numerous requests for her to take it easy had fallen on deaf ears until this point. It had taken many sleepless nights and Michael's solemn and serious request on the life of their child for her to listen.
Maybe he was not the kind of man to say 'I told you so' in the event of things going wrong. At the very least, she figured that any loss would mean a drastic change in their relationship.
As much as she liked to maintain her independence, Selene found it hard to grasp the concept of losing Michael. They had been together less than two years, hardly even a blink of an eye in her lifespan. They had experienced so much together, as a couple and as two individuals running from the immortal war, that her need of him was greater than she cared to admit.
Dare she say it; she felt a little resentful of him because of it.
He needed without a worry; he was still so human, so mortal, that the independence of species had not yet crept into his blood. While he stayed with her, Selene doubted it ever would.
But here she was, seven months pregnant, six centuries old, and tied to an almost mortal hybrid; her bond with him so strong that she was willing to bend to his most extreme and somewhat outrageous command.
And so now, when she could have been attending the squadron debriefs in the boardroom, or taking part in a strategy meeting with the other members of her unit, or even sparring good-naturedly with one of her comrades, Selene found herself in the main weapons hold, gazing forlornly at the weapons that she could now only long to fire.
She had checked and rechecked every item; each of the Glocks, UMPs, P99s and her personal favourite Beretta M9s. She counted out each round of ammunition on hand, completing a checklist that had been completed the previous evening. Perhaps it was overkill, but a necessary one in Selene's opinion.
Now there was little else to do.
On the table before her was a stripped M9. Perhaps subconsciously, she ran her fingers gently over each of the weapons parts, handling them with care.
The same way she would now stroke her swollen stomach.
A knock sounded at the door to the hold. Though she heard it, she chose not to respond. If it was urgent enough, the figure would enter the room whether acknowledged or not.
And indeed he did.
Calvin Farkas, with the clean-shaven face of a teenager, and the wiry build of a scholar, entered awkwardly, loaded down by seven sub machine guns of varying makes. He seemed to halt as he saw Selene, and seemed almost ready to back out the door until she spoke.
"Its okay, Farkas," she said softly, smiling to ease whatever discomfort lay in the situation. "You can come in."
"Sorry, miss." The young man's inexperience shone through whenever he found himself before Selene. Many of the mortal members of the coven had seen immortals only in books and training films. As a result, when dealing with either Selene or Michael, the only immortals in the coven, and likely the most powerful immortals on the face of the earth, they seemed to turn silent, and a sickly shade of greenish-white.
Their thoughts were almost transparent. They saw immortals as murdering curs. They were all aware of the diet that the immortals required. It evoked a high amount of fear from most. The minority were the men built for combat, which took one look at Selene and laughed off any thought of fear. That was an initial reaction that was quick to change when she had them at the mercy of a strong neck hold.
Of course, displaying her skills in such a way was not ideal in a situation where the majority turned into gibbering messes like the one in front of her now, and it was hardly a possibility in her current condition. Things had improved over the two months they had been at the compound, but they were far from perfect. Even now, Selene could see she had a lot of work to do in order to set her comrades at ease around her.
Farkas just happened to be the ideal specimen to work with. He was a non-combat member of the compound, hired purely as commander Arthur Riley's assistant. With no weapons training, Selene decided he was perfect to test her more human traits on.
He re-shouldered two of the weapons and took four steps toward her before stopping. He made it seem casual, however the line of sweat on his upper lip stated otherwise. The prospect of having to pass Selene to get to the holds was daunting.
"I didn't realise anyone was in here," he said now, trying unsuccessfully to wipe the sweat from his face with the sleeve of his sweater. "I called and no-one said anything. So I thought-"
As his voice trailed off, Selene could hear the fierce pounding of his heart, the racing adrenaline in his veins. Ordinarily it was a kind of aphrodisiac, or at least a major temptation to any kind of vampire. In her current state of mind, and given the nervous energy Farkas was radiating the situation was putting a horrible taste in her mouth.
"Here," she started, ignoring his slight jump at her sudden standing. "Let me help you."
"Oh, no, that's-" Before he could finish, Selene had taken three of the weapons and shelved them carefully.
"Thank you, miss," he said in a kind of surprised awe.
Selene sighed. "I've told you, Farkas. Call me Selene. I'm not royalty."
"Sorry."
He followed the steps she had taken, shelving the remaining weapons just as carefully.
"Should you be doing all this though?" he asked, turning to face her hesitantly. "Mr. Corvin – ugh – I mean Michael, said that you were supposed to be resting."
She found the seat beneath her and sat. Her eyes lowered to the pieces of the M9 before her. So, not only was she requested by her loving partner to stay out of all war-related issues, but he had also passed the ruling onto the rest of the compound staff. For the first time in her life, Selene felt outnumbered.
Whether out of an emotional surge or a reaction to all that had happened, all at once, she felt her eyes begin to sting with the onset of tears.
"I'm sorry," Farkas said quickly. "It's not my place to say anything. I should just shut up."
He moved to walk past her toward the door. She stopped him with a hand on his arm. It made her cringe to feel his sudden tension at her touch.
"Please," she said softly, the first tears sliding down her cheeks. "Don't be sorry. I am the one who should be sorry."
"You?" The innocent green eyes of Calvin Farkas glistened beneath his furrowed brow. "Why?"
She shrugged, a weak smile forming on her lips. "For making you uncomfortable."
"I'm not uncomfortable." Maybe it was the haste with which he answered, or the near hysterical hint in his voice, or possibly even the slight twitch of his eye when he spoke; Selene did not buy his response, and his reaction made her laugh out loud.
She was hormonal, which was obvious. One did not go from being a death dealing vampire to a basket case without decent cause. She was also vastly becoming sleep deprived, and with the idea of being grounded fresh on the idea board, she found the brink of hysteria drawing closer each second.
The expression on Farkas' face was enough to bring her back to the realm of sobriety.
"I keep telling everyone, you don't have to fear us," she said quietly. "Michael and I, we're the same as everyone else here. We may be stronger and faster, but we're not about to go on a feeding frenzy."
Farkas swallowed, leaning towards her as he spoke. "It's not you we're most afraid of," he said in whisper.
She raised an eyebrow. "Then why are you trembling, Farkas?"
He looked down at himself, as if to search for proof of his trembling. Selene smirked at his behaviour. He was so mortal it amused her.
"It's not you," he repeated, more certain this time. "Honestly. It's just that wherever you are, Michael tends to be."
Selene's lips parted in shock. "You're afraid of Michael?" Even her voice held a trace of laughter to it.
Seeming slightly insulted, Farkas straightened. "You've had longer to abstain from the pleasures of human blood." His words sounded as if they came straight from a textbook. "You're used to the temptation, you can avoid it. Michael's newer to the blood drinking. I've read that the cravings can be unbearable, and with us around…" He trailed off; swallowed, and then made a quick look behind him as if afraid someone was listening.
Selene's smile was genuine and calming. "I can assure you, Michael has no problems dealing with his cravings around all of you. He feeds regularly, I make sure of it."
The smile that Farkas returned was hesitant, but no less genuine. "You're going to make a great mother, Selene."
Her smile faltered. "Was Michael in the briefing this morning?" she asked, feeling a need to change the subject.
"No. He was off looking for you. I guess he didn't check in here."
Selene nodded, allowing another sigh to escape her lips. "I'll go and find him." She slowly stood from the table.
"He's in a meeting now," Farkas added, almost as an afterthought. He had turned to leave the room.
"Meeting?" Selene frowned. "What for?"
Farkas turned, shrugged in the doorway. "I'm not sure. I think he's interviewing the lycan that was brought in last night." He turned again and walked away, leaving Selene in stunned silence.
A lycan had been brought to the compound. It was not a regular occurrence, but it was she who was meant to deal with all matters relating to captives. When she was not available, then one of the more experienced squad leaders at the compound would handle any meetings. Michael, despite the ease with which he had changed from human to immortal, was in no way experienced enough to deal with a newcomer.
The lycan could be a spy, could be dangerous. There was any number of problems that her love may have to face in a room with a lycan.
And what if they hadn't sedated the monster first? What if Michael went in unarmed? He could be attacked. For all she knew, he could be lying in a pool of blood right now…
As she hurried from the room, bound for the interview rooms, she wondered if she would be the only one to see the danger in this.
