Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns it all.
Rated M for several reasons.
Chpt 24 Splitting Up
BPOV
He's pissed. Massively pissed. But he can't argue with logic.
I need Demetri with me, so we can track Rutilio.
An' the military expert needs to go deal with the military problem.
"I am not happy about this." His lips inform the top of my head.
"But you know it's the right thing to do." I tell his heart scar.
He growls.
"I know this isn't your thing." I murmur. "But I love you."
He hugs me tighter. Briefly. This is The Major after all.
As the beat of rotor blades approaches I reluctantly pull away from him.
"You will not take any unnecessary risks." He orders, black eyes staring into mine.
Venom stings my eyes. "Whatever the fuck he's got goin' on up there you'd better be vampire enough to deal with it." I threaten, with a growl of my own.
He snorts in amusement an' I pull out of his embrace stepping back towards Char who wraps an arm around my waist and rests her head on my shoulder. She's already said goodbye to Pete.
Raising his hand The Major summons Demetri to him.
They stare into each other's eyes as an Apache gunship lands on the now dark beach.
"With my life Master." Demetri says eventually in response to The Major's unvoiced request.
The Major nods an' turns his ebony eyes on Simon. Who bows deeply.
Satisfied he nods again an' turns away to join rest of the coven hidden in the trees getting ready to head south to Rio.
With a little help from the highly suspicious occupants of the helicopter the four of us strap ourselves to the outside in the prescribed manner an' begin our journey out to the British Navy ship.
As far as I am concerned Evans is the canine's crown jewels an' god bless Charlie Swan for his obsession with modern warfare, even The Major was impressed with this part of my idea. Wherever Rutilio goes the Cowboy Coven will be right behind him. Right behind him. With rockets.
As we lift off I exchange a wild grin with Demetri an' idly wonder if having four marble statues strapped to the outside of the Apache affects it's handling in any way.
The flight is exhilarating but short an' a couple of ground crew leap forwards quickly to unstrap us.
"Ma'am!" A Commander salutes me, Evans has told them we are all US airforce personnel. "If you'll follow me the Captain is waiting to be briefed.
He leads us down into the bowels of the enormous ship. Simon practically has to drag Demetri, who has a serious case of ex-pirate rubber neck, along with us.
The Captain, a silver haired hawkish man is waiting for us an' eyes us with distaste.
"I knew it!" He mutters under his breath as we approach, unaware we can hear him. "US Airforce my arse. Fucking CIA more like."
I stifle a giggle. I guess at the very least Char an' I look nothing like normal members of the armed forces, the playboy centerfold an' Jessica Rabbit.
Despite his poorly concealed annoyance the briefing proceeds quickly. The ship will return to its sojourn around the Caribbean an' we will be given access to whatever is the best form of transportation to reach our goal. That was a tricky one, we couldn't exactly tell the British Navy to follow the sparkly vampire, so instead, we've made up a story about receiving minute by minute intel from a unit on the ground an' needing to react to it quickly. I think the Captain's suspicion of all things American will play into our hands on that one. As we left he was muttering about us CIA types all being rounded up an' shot. Poor Pete's missing out again.
The Commander shows us to our quarters an' waits while we change. At Evans's request we've all been given flight suits an' helmets which we'll wear constantly during the daylight hours to minimise the risk of inappropriate sparkling. Further securing in everyone's minds the idea that we're from some shady American intelligence agency.
Let me tell you there isn't much room in a cabin on a warship. Char an' I are hyperventilating with silent laugher by the time we've wriggled into our gear an' given each other the once over. Even the smallest flight suits on offer have had to be rolled up at the leg an' arm. We look like a couple of kids playing dress up.
Emerging we have to pinch each other viciously to stop from howling with mirth at Simon an' Demetri, who both have the opposite problem. Oh well, any sparkling ankle issues will have to be dealt with as they arise.
Speaking at vampire speed we follow the Commander back up through the ship.
"You're suit is very tight Demetri." Char growls, making playful grabs at his ass when no one's looking.
"Humph." He responds without turning.
"It's quite flattering My Lord." Simon chips in giving it a playful swat of his own.
"I will kill you." Demetri growls at him.
Simon rolls his eyes dramatically at me an' I stuff my fist in my mouth to keep from laughing out loud.
"Where to?" I ask as we re-enter the briefing room.
Our 'crew', the Apache pilots, four Harrier pilots an' some sailor types who I assume drive boats, are waiting for us with a map of the Caribbean spread out on the table. Unlike the Captain these men are practically thrumming with anticipation.
"Northwest." Demetri replies, tilting his face up to the grey metal ceiling an' then looking down at a map.
The Commander briefs the Brits while we watch Demetri stare at the map.
"Haiti or the Dominican Republic." Demetri whispers eventually. "Or one of the islands nearby. I will know more when we are nearer."
"Based on our current information." I speak up. "We should start with Haiti an' the Dominican Republic."
"We'll by close enough to get the bird in there by morning." The Apache pilot informs us, joining us at the map.
"How much time will we have to track the target?" Simon asks.
"Our Apaches have been adapted." The pilot answers. "We can refuel in mid-air if needs be. However unless the target is moving again I suggest we leave it as long as possible before going up."
"If we are close enough you can set us down anywhere." Simon informs him.
The pilot raises his eyebrow but nods in acceptance.
"The Harriers have greater range and speed." The Commander interjects. "If the target moves too far away from the ship overnight we will do better to utilise them. In the event of close proximity we can launch a boat."
"That is acceptable." Demetri agrees without looking up from the map.
"Very well." The Commander states. "We will meet here again at 04:00 hours to re-assess."
Back in our quarters I flip out my cell to text Jasper before I remember that it won't work. I will have to wait until our scheduled communication with Evans. My chest aches an' I reach up and rub it unconsciously.
"Missin' J?" Char asks, turning away from the utilitarian mirror where she's been admiring her reflection.
I nod miserably. What did I say to Elise about noble self-sacrifice?
"Sug, it gets better as time goes on." She climbs up onto the bunk beside me. "I miss Pete already but it don't hurt yet."
I sigh.
"Why don't ya just bite him?" She asks, sensing the other reason for my melancholy.
"I hate feelin' that I have to rush it an' spoil the moment." I answer. "Besides, there's no guarantee it will work."
"You got a better idea?" She says sensibly. "Our boy's workin' himself into a state over it."
"An' how much worse is it gonna be if I bite him an' nothin' happens?"
She huffs. Exactly. It's such an apparently quick an' easy solution. Really we all know better, we don't ever get that lucky. An' we should all be thinking about the consequences.
"We should at least check out the stuff Carlisle sent first." I relent.
"Okay." She sighs, rolling over an' resting her head on my shoulder. "I want you guys back together."
"We are together." I remind her.
"Yeah." She sighs again. "But I want you to be mates again, like me an' Pete."
Now I sigh. It really doesn't help my insecurity when the people I trust are so desperate for Jasper an' I to be proper mates again. In quiet moments I can almost convince myself that it isn't a problem. Almost.
"I wonder what they're doin'?" I ask to change the subject.
"J an' Pete?" Char chuckles. "Plottin', plannin', worryin' an' beatin' the crap outta each other."
I laugh an' let my mind float away to imagine it. They'd better not damage the jet, I haven't had a go in it yet.
"What are you gonna do to him when we get him?" She asks eventually.
For a moment I stare up at the grey ceiling.
"I don't know." I answer eventually. "I want him an' any danger he represents gone."
"You know this ain't a movie, right?" She asks. "He ain't just gonna tell us what we wanna know."
"Then I'll just have to get creative." I vow through clenched teeth.
"You really are The Major's Mate." She chuckles, lapsing back into silence.
I feel like I am. I have grown or according to your viewpoint, descended into the pits of hell, to become what I am. An' I am his.
At 03:50 hours, thanks Charlie, the Commander rouses us from our beds, his face openly surprised when we're all gathered beside him in moments an' none of us looking remotely sleepy.
"We will need the Harriers Mistress." Demetri whispers at vampire speed. "He has moved again but is currently still. If we are quick . . . ."
In the briefing room the news is greeted easily an' soon we are swooped upstairs to the flight deck. Even I have a Top Gun moment at the impressive sight.
"Pete's gonna drop a ball when I tell him about this." Char snickers.
With little time for reflection I am manhandled into a ferocious looking aeroplane an' buckled in. My vampire brain memorises every detail of the experience to recount to Jasper while also absorbing the instructions from the flight crew.
After hooking me up to the rather pointless oxygen supply my helper withdraws an' the cockpit closes.
With much flapping of brightly colored paddles an' roaring of engines we manoeuver into position, pointing down the long deck towards a slight incline. There is a huge rush of power an' noise and suddenly we are pinged into the sky.
It's glorious. The power, the acceleration, the sound, the power. Overcome I promise myself to get Simon a Ferrari as soon as we are home.
The pilot, Tim, very kindly overlooks my scream of exhilaration an' explains how long it will take to reach our destination as well as the mechanics of how Harriers land.
Rutilio Asturias an' Cuba, we're coming, ready or not.