Nigel woke with a start, covered in sweat. He kicked the sheets back, but it did nothing to regulate his body temperature. The heat was trapped between his pajamas and skin. He threw his legs over the side of the bed and tossed his sweatshirt at the wall.
His hotel room was dark, minus the very dim streetlamps filtering in through the square window. He fell asleep before closing the curtains. He appreciated that foresight, welcoming the light that chased the remnants of his nightmare.
He reached for his mobile. Now that he was awake and the lingering effects of sleep dwindled away, he could throw a few more hours into his research before he hit the road and tried again with the super computer warfare. He swiped his mobile screen open and three messages sat in his text box.
Happy Birthday. Miss you. - Kuki
Happy Birthday. Man, we're getting up there, aren't we? - Hoagie
Happy 32nd Birthday. Let's get together when you're back in town. -Abby
He smirked, grateful for the distraction. Of course, they'd be the first to text. Each message came after midnight. Despite the time that passed, every year he thought about Wallabee.
It'd been fifteen years since the Beetles buried an empty casket.
As quickly as the memory came, he shut it down. Therapy, medications and drinking binges couldn't stop the ache that followed him like a phantom. Guilt. That's what the therapists all said. That this weight on his shoulders wasn't his fault…. But it was.
He was the team leader. He was the one that okayed the medications that went into Wally's body. He was the one that signed off on the papers to proceed with the plans in capturing the Count.
"Try another direction." His reprimand did little to sway the snowball of thoughts, but suppression was his best bet.
He dropped his phone on the bed and stretched again, noticing the sticky note on the window. It hadn't been there when he went to bed. He reached under his pillow for his Glock. Gone.
His spine tingled with dread. How could he sleep through someone opening his door, walking through his room and reaching under his sleeping head to apprehend his weapon?
One thing was sure; whoever entered his room didn't want him dead. This knowledge lead him across the room to the window without fear of getting shot. He plucked the sticky from the window. Crisp block letters simply read; bar.
This late at night, only one bar would be open. He slid his shoes on and forewent the coat. He made sure the safety was on his second Glock before sticking it in the back of his pants. He adjusted his shirt to cover the handle.
He should've called this in, but before logic swayed his rash decision, the elevator doors opened into the exquisite lobby with its marble flooring. He walked straight to the doorway of the bar and accessed his surroundings. There were four men present, each sitting alone at random tables. The fifth person was towards the back, easy to miss… almost, if it weren't for the fact that he'd know this man anywhere.
Nigel's jaw locked.
It'd been far too long since he'd seen the Count. As an adult, the Count wasn't nearly as old as he originally perceived. In fact, he'd wager the man became a vampire while in his late thirties. He was lean and had a refined, almost royal stature.
The vampire acknowledged him with a nod. Nigel returned it before going straight to the bar and ordering a drink; rum and coke. One drink wouldn't affect his neurological system. He built his tolerance for liquor at university, though one drink might keep him from outright killing the Count.
He took his drink and went to the back of the room where the Count waited. Nigel slid into the bench seat, jaw clenched with anger. "You have something that belongs to me."
"I do." The vampire's smirk said it was so much more than just the Glock. He sat the polished, black gun on the table between them.
Nigel swiped it off the table and slid it into the second holster. "All of this is unnecessary. You could've just woke me."
The vampire laughed. It was a low, humorless sound that bordered on fatigue. Did vampires get exhausted? "I could have, but I don't have time to scuffle with you. I'll make this quick. I have information on a couple organizations that might hold your interest."
"The organizations I'm interested in are heavily vetted through the CIA, but this is a peace offering, isn't it? Why are you really here?" Nigel asked.
The Count shrugged. His gloved fingers were steepled in front of him. "I have something of high value that I don't want stolen or destroyed. Maybe this is karma or whatever you humans fret so much on. I am willing to help you bring down this coven before they take and destroy what is rightfully mine."
"I'm not throwing you a bone. If it were up to me, I would execute you on the spot, but for whatever reason, the agency deems you an ally in some very assorted way," Nigel said. His fingers twitched with the threat. Why even warn the vampire? Why not just play it out the way he'd done a million times over?
"Nigel, I wouldn't be here if I didn't have something to protect. I would do anything to protect what is mine." Red seeped into the vampire's irises. "Anything. But the nature of my very existence leaves me vulnerable during the daylight hours and I'm running out of places to hide my treasure. I understand that you're still feeling emotionally—"
"What are you, a therapist? You are going to sit here and pretend you understand the level of my pain?" He drowned his drink and slammed the glass on the tabletop. "That's right. I said pain. What you did to our team… to me, and you expect me to roll over and protect your treasure?"
"Believe it or not, we want the same thing and because of this, I'm coming to you. I wouldn't if I had any other choice. I don't." Yes. There was clear exhaustion in the vampire.
This was ridiculous. There'd been only one thing he'd ever wanted to do and that was to finish the Count himself. "Get out of here before I'm the biggest thing you have to worry about tonight."
"Nigel, what if I told you I have the blueprints for every hidden nuclear plant that is currently in operation. Would that be big enough to you and your organization to ask for a favor in return?" The Count tried again.
Nigel's headache was growing. "It would be a big trade if you had proof and as long as the information is new and not what's already been leaked."
The Count nodded. "I have a super computer of my own, but I'd want to this in writing that you'll take and protect something of mine and return it for the blue prints."
Nigel's fingers itched to pull his Glock. "Again, we would need something more than your word to go by."
The Count nodded and sunk back into the chair; his dark eyes, endless and unreadable. "I will give you the blueprints and whatever else you need if we have a deal."
Nigel shook his head. "No deal until it's been discussed with the management."
He turned and left the Count sitting there, sure the vampire would find a way to get ahold of him later.
oOo
Wally sank back against the car seat. His coat was bulky and layered, meant to keep the heat in, but the Count left the car keys in the ignition, so he could filter in heat from the vents. He fiddled with an Ipad. A cartoon played, Bugs Bunny in the Russian language.
He understood about seventy percent of it, but it hardly held his attention. His eyes kept drifting towards the hotel door while a light rain splattered down the windshield. He understood there wasn't much he could do against the vampires hunting them, but dread weighed heavily in his chest every time Kostya left him behind.
He sighed and whacked his head back against the chair in frustration. Why were they even here?
He traced the car handle with his fingers and thought heavily about leaving the car to search for his master. Kostya would be so mad if he just walked through the hotel door, especially if he was here to feed.
Jealousy instantly flared. His blood ran hot and his heart pounded. Did Kostya touch the others like he touched him while feeding? Did they moan and orgasm when they were being pierced with the Count's teeth?
A shadow fell over the passenger side door before the door was shoved open. Cold air instantly seeped into the car, and the smell of fresh rain filled his senses. It took less than a second to realize he didn't know the stranger standing there, but he didn't move fast enough. Hands caught his upper arm, yanking him from his seat.
The Ipad slammed against the cement before he followed the same fate, shattering the plastic and sending tiny parts skating across the ground. Luckily for him, he wasn't so fragile.
A man with a shaved head stood over him, thin and ratty looking. "You're Wallabee Beatles?"
Wally snapped out of his stupor and leaned in, kicking at the man's shin. There was no resounding crunch, but the man doubled over, hissing with pain. Wally got to his feet and stepped back into the street to put distance between them.
The late hour saved him from his reckless decisions. No cars. No unwanted accidents.
Not that he was afraid. He really wasn't. Two untrained punks weren't a threat, not really. But the Count had told him not to fight, not to show people all the talents he'd gleamed over the years. It was called, tipping the hat.
"Where are you running off too, cutie?" the first man asked. He looked up and down the street once, a quick glance to make sure they were alone. This early in the morning, they were most definitely alone.
Wally huffed. Pride made him want to stand and fight, but his master would be displeased. Still, he couldn't deny how hot he grew forcing himself to stand down.
The shorter of the two lunged and Wally stepped to the side, grabbing the man by his shoulder. With his foot out, catching the man in his shin, he used the man's momentum to trip him. It was a simple move. Anyone could do it. It wasn't like he was showboating his skills.
The second man lunged, ready for Wally's reaction. He jerked back and punched the man square in the jaw, followed by a low kick and a cross-hook. Blood spurted from his nose. It only angered the stranger. Both came at him and the force sent him to the ground, slamming the back of his head on the pavement. Skull jarring pain followed the thud. He caught the wrist of the man trying to lift his shirt.
"I can see why the Count likes you. You got a nice mouth. I bet you make the best sounds when his teeth are biting through your skin," the man said.
"He doesn't say much," the other man said, close enough in height to his six-foot tall friend. His sideways smirk expressed every thought that ran in the man's head.
"Maybe he's mute?" the first said.
"Nah man, wouldn't they mention it if he was mute?" the second leaned more of his body weight into Wally's pelvis bone. It felt like his hip would snap under the pressure. "What about it man? Are you a mute?"
When he didn't answer, the man's free hand slid to Wally's waist and slid up under his shirt. The stranger's ice frozen thumb stroked down Wally's hip.
"I'm going to thoroughly enjoy breaking you before I give you to the head master. Kostya should have handed you over when our master ordered it," the second man continued.
A second later, that weight was lifted and slammed against the wall. The man crumbled into a heap. Wally jerked to his feet and would've stumbled if it weren't for the hands on his shoulders keeping him steady. The same hands caught his wrist when he tried to throw a punch.
"Easy now. It's just me." Kostya said. He looked paler than he had hours ago. His pupils were blown wide, swallowing the brown in his irises. "I told you to stay in the car with the doors locked."
"They were locked." He wasn't completely sure of this. In his boredom, he'd been playing with the switches. His mouth was painfully dry. He needed water and now, a very hot shower. He'd have bruises tomorrow. "What were you doing, anyway?"
"Requesting help," Kostya said. He pulled Wally closer, but there was no body heat in the embrace. His vampire rubbed his thumb over Wally's jaw and gently tilted his head one way and then the other, scouting his face for serious injuries.
Wally fought the desire to knock Kostya's hands back. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy the touch, but he hated being babied. "Are we getting it?"
"I think we're on our own, kid. It's just a matter of time before the nest catches up with us."
"And then what? Do you have another plan?" Wally asked.
The vampire's black pupils grew small. It was hard to read him when he was stoic like this. "We need to get going."
"You have a plan though, right?" Wally pressed. He wanted to know they'd eventually stop running and get a chance to settle back down.
"We have to keep moving. More will come when these two don't return." Kostya pulled him back towards the car.
That wasn't the answer. Deep down, Wally knew the Count wouldn't let the vampires catch them, at any cost. "I'm not going to keep running."
Kostya stayed tight lipped as he pushed Wally into the rental car. He wasn't so sure he liked the idea of what "any cost" meant to his master.
oOo
Nigel jerked his fingers back with a hiss. His fingertips were sensitive, but there was no sign of damage. Not even his skin was red, but the painful shock made his nerves ache.
"You're distracted," Hoagie said. Getting the team back had been part of a request on his end and because the CIA was willing to pull strings in order to get a handle on the smuggling ring.
"Opposite that," Nigel growled, but relented and let Hoagie take the two thin wires.
"You need to reread the definition on the word focused if you honestly think that's what you are right now." Hoagie tied off the wires and put the metal plate back into the device. "Are you going to talk about it?"
"No." There was nothing to say. He went around and around with his own hesitation. He should've killed the vampire when he had the chance, but in turn, the Count had come into his room and only took his g. Nothing more. He asked for help, but it didn't matter. He wouldn't help him after what had happened.
Hoagie played with the gears on his hand controller and the thing took to the air. "So, are you going to spill the beans, or do I need to send Abby in?"
"I'm not a personal mission, Hoagie. I'm the team captain. Analyzing my day isn't going to change things," Nigel said, working on the next small gadget laid out in front of him.
"You mean it's not going to fix the past," Hoagie supplied. The contraption landed in front of him and he parked his sheet before moving it to the side.
Nigel didn't respond. The team moved on and it was luck that when the CIA called, his old team had agreed to jump back into action under his command. Telling them about the Count's visit would only drudge up the nightmare fifteen years ago.
They got the drones ready right as the first tap on his hotel door. It was the only warning he had before the girls swung it open and entered.
"Eight o'clock on the dot," Abby announced, wearing a heavy coat, scarf and tight black pants that fit into her big army boots.
"Let's get this show on the road!" Kuki announced just behind her. She wore tight black pants too, but her shoes weren't nearly as heavy. Her snow coat was also black. Great way to blend in with fairly unnoticeable colors.
Nigel wasn't looking forward to the cold weather or building snowstorm. The ride to the ski lodge would suck. He stuck the items needed into the cushioned briefcase and stood, smoothing out his coat that was thick, but not bulky. He liked his clothes a little loose. Made fighting easier.
A quick glance at his watched confirmed the dinner hour. Being inside an exclusive and extremely active hotel meant sneaking was near impossible. They didn't file out like a group of agents. Instead, they worked with a casual appearance for the camera.
Inwardly, Nigel congratulated himself for everything working out fine until the doors opened to the lobby and he caught something painfully familiar at the edge of his vision, pass by the large fountain. He stepped out of the elevator and glanced straight towards his biggest enemy. The Count didn't notice the group.
"Is that the-" Abby started.
Nigel nodded. "The Count."
The Count greeted the doorman to the sauna, looking the same as Nigel remembered, except he had someone on his arm, a five-foot-eleven blond with his hair pulled into a manbun. Nigel swallowed hard. His heart nearly dropped to his stomach. The Count lead his companion through the frosted glass doors and the doorman guided it shut behind them.
"Was that… was that who it really, really, really appeared to be?" Kuki asked. Her mind went straight to the same conclusion Nigel's had. Wally wasn't dead.
"A bathhouse? A freaking, bathhouse for only men?" Abby hissed. "What's the game plan, chief? We can't let him get away from us."
Nigel fully agreed. Every part of him burned red-hot for vengeance and the chance to have Wally back, in whatever shape Wally was in…. which he had to admit, didn't look that bad from behind. A little thinner, but not sickly. He didn't look like a vampire. "Let's get in there and burn the Count to the ground."
But finding a way for all of them to sneak in took longer than he could mentally stand. It meant going through an employee only hallway that lead to the laundry. There was a second narrower hallway that had several doors. After checking every door without luck, they finally opened one into the locker room.
"I would've painted my toenails if I'd known we'd be hitting the bathhouse," Kuki said.
"I would've shaved," Abby offered.
The idle chatter eased the tension in Nigel's chest.
The place was a maze with immaculate white tile floors, tile walls and wood benches. Some of the smaller rooms became clear that they were for private, sexual experiences. His heart ached thinking he'd find Wally and the Count in one of those smaller rooms, but they were empty. Searching dragged them to the very last pool, something smaller and Greek in style. The two laid on vast lawn chairs under the glass sunroof. The lighting was dim given the darker, winter nights, but he could make out the two just past the pool.
He was positive now, that it was Wally, dressed in a sleeveless, Greek style white dress that looked surprisingly modest on him. He looked really good, still muscular, though not nearly as big as he'd been when he was on the football team. His blond hair was long now, pulled high on his head in a manbun and the lower portion was shaved. It looked rugged and hot.
"What's the orders, sir?" Hoagie asked.
The heavy smell of chlorine made Nigel's nostrils burn as he watched how comfortable Wally appeared with his legs pressed together and slightly angled so the Count could draw his hands down Wally's thigh, pushing the fabric up. Fuck. From here, he could tell that Wally was naked under that toga. It felt like they were spying in on the two of them role playing.
"Lets go in guns down, but ready. I don't think the Count will start a war here and we can't risk stray bullets hitting Wally," Nigel said. He motioned with his fingers for the team to separate. He stayed where he was as the team moved back down the hallway to enter at the other two points into the room.
It gave him a few seconds to watch the Count draw circles at Wally's hip and kiss his lips. The whole process was too delicate. It was too loving and wrong for someone who'd been kidnapped so violently. The second his team appeared, the girls at one entrance and Hoagie by himself at the other, he stepped into the room with his gun drawn.
The two didn't notice the group closing in, not before the Count drew Wally onto his lap so the ex-team member was now the one straddling the vampire's hips. The Count had drawing the straps of Wally's robe down his shoulders, caught the back of his head and had his chin tilted. Nigel tried to close in, but he wasn't fast enough to stop the vampire from piercing Wally's throat. A single drop of blood rolled down Wally's throat and continued down his pale back. He couldn't ignore the way Wally's breathe hitched. In the quiet of that space, he would forever remember the soft whine Wally made.
"Count, funny we're in the same location again. Are you stalking me?" Nigel asked. His hand with the gun twitched and the vampire's attention was drawn to it.
The Count's smirk was ruthless as he withdrew his fangs from Wally's neck and gently guided the hitter to sit beside him on the wide pool chair. "Nigel, it is unfortunate, but this is purely coincidence. I would not willingly want to be in the same location as you and so openly flash what I now own and you do not."
Wally quickly fixed the straps on the white toga and took the towel to dab at his neck. Blood stained the white, but his hitter didn't wince in pain. Instead, he positioned himself so he could look at the Abby and Kuki behind them and Hoagie on the other side of the pool guarding the only other exit.
"Who's your special little friend, Count?" The bitterness seeped into his tone. He wasn't sure what he expected, maybe something of recognition in Wally's eyes. Instead, their hitter looked concerned that they were now trapped.
The Count's eyes narrowed. "Really, Mr. Uno, haven't you heard what curiosity did to the cat? Spoiler, the cat dies at the end."
"Who's your friend?" Nigel repeated.
Wally whispered something under his breathe, and the Count reached back to cup his knee. Despite his anger, Nigel had to admit that for all the world, it looked like the vampire was comforting his hitter. And that comfort was against the team.
"Trust me, it will be easier for all of you if you let this go." The Count answered. He stood, catching Wally by the arm and helping him to stand. Wally wobbled, and the Count placed a hand on his back to steady him. Blood loss?
"What's wrong with him? What did you do to him?" Nigel stepped forward and immediately stopped when Wally stepped back behind the Count.
"You can feel for yourself, he's very much alive," the Count said. Wally tried to pull back when Nigel closed the distance between them and reached for his arm. The Count kept a firm hold on the hitter's forearm, forcing him to keep his hand out. "Now, now, Mister Beatles, no reason to behave so aggressively around these humans. He simply wants proof that you're very much alive."
Nigel slid his two fingers up the edge of Wally's palm and to his wrist. He held him a second longer than needed, finding a flood of relief at the heartbeat and warmth. Wally was alive.
His best friend asked something in a language that wasn't one of the seven Nigel could speak, and the Count answered back. Wally's shoulders immediately relaxed, but he stayed close to the vampire.
"He's afraid you're one of our enemies here to take him," the Count explained. His dark eyes were nothing short of challenging. "I assured him that was not happening today, but you are the strangers with the guns and he doesn't trust this situation or you."
"Stockholm syndrome. Motherfucker!" Kuki growled.
"Can we just shoot the vampire and sort this out later?" Abby asked. Her gun clicked a second after Kuki's. It was loud in the near silent space.
The Count clicked his tongue. "You kill me and Wallabee won't survive the winter, not with the sheer number of vampires out for his blood."
Nigel ignored the comment. "Wally, you need to come with us. You can trust us."
Wally didn't move. This creature was… so familiar and yet exotic and uncharacteristically quiet. He'd never met the grown-up version of his hitter. He didn't know how to adjust to his best friend's current conduct.
The Count waited a fraction before a smile eased across his pale lips. "He can make his own decisions Nigel and they clearly do not involve you or your team in any way."
"You think you're a step ahead of us, that you're so clever?" Nigel asked. He had extensive studies in psychology and manipulation. He took in every aspect of his target and adjusted to what he thought Wally would most likely trust; a very dominate and self-assured masculine figure.
The Count frowned. "Actually no. I think my days are numbered and at any minute, so is Wallabee's."
"It's not too late to make that agreement. I can protect Wally," Nigel offered. Blueprints be damned, though he'd never admit to the agency that he forwent a trade on nuclear blueprints worldwide. He ached to walk over and grab Wally. He'd throw Wally over his shoulders and carry him out, if he had to.
"I'm sure you believe that, but I need your ties with the other organization; the Kids Next Door. Without them, giving you Wallabee is utterly out of the question," the Count said.
Wally turned to the Count and muttered under his breath. Though his words were foreign, it was apparent he wasn't on board with this. The Count reached out and stroked his arm in comfort and Wally allowed it.
Nigel stomped his jealousy before it could start. "What do you need with the Kids Next Door?"
Wally glared at him like a snake ready to strike. It broke his heart.
"Their space headquarters, Nigel. Wallabee needs to be off this planet while I take care of a few loose ends, but if you think for a second I'll just let him go—" The vampire's pupils dilated, swallowing all color from his eyes.
Nigel dug his phone from his pocket. "Fine. I'll get this set up right now."
"No. Right this second won't work for either of us. I will call you when we are ready." The Count said.
Wally grumbled, this time in English, accent heavy but understandable. "They're kids. They aren't equipped for anything on this scale. Neither are the CIA."
Nigel's brow lifted. He hadn't realized Wally knew about his position with the CIA.
The Count chuckled. "If I left it up to Wally, we'd burn this world to the ground. What can you really do with such a feisty mate, right Nigel? Keep your phone on. I'll call you in the next couple of days and tell you where to meet us."
In truth, he honestly didn't care what happened to the vampire, but he'd be damned if he let anyone touched Wally. And Lord help him, because he really couldn't stop thinking about the explicit things he wanted to do with Wally. And among those confusing and wayward thoughts lingered something romantic that made him want to grow old with his best friend.
"Count," Nigel said the minute the vampire's hand fell to Wally's lower back, indicating they should start walking. The vampire looked curious, but not concerned. "When this is over, you're still going to have to deal with me."
The Count tsked his tongue. "Honestly, Nigel. Isn't it apparent which one of us is the better master? Even if you did manage to kill me, something a handful of nests have yet to succeed in, you think Wallabee will automatically see you as his new master?"
"If you truly cared about him, you'd give him up before you chanced a rough night that will get him killed. You've lived a long time. Can you honestly say you haven't killed your subs before?" Nigel asked.
The Count's face darkened, but it didn't compare to the way Wally's gray eyes bore holes in him. It might not be as simple as knocking the vampire out of the running, but he would get Wally back. Wally turned when the Count again indicated they should leave. Nigel hated watching them pass through the hallway and out of sight.
"I pray to God, the nest doesn't kill him, so I can have that honor," Nigel said.
"Actually, I hope they kill each other," Hoagie said. At their blank stares, he blushed and shrugged. "Look, we don't know why these nests are dead-set on getting Wally. What if it's something we really can't protect him from? He's not going to want to grow old up there on the space station where he's three times the age of the people who are guarding him. Just saying."
Nigel relented. Hoagie was right. If the Count didn't manage to fix this, those vampires would still come after their ex-hitter.
"He looked really good though, right?" Kuki asked. "I mean, really, really good. Like a lot more handsome then I ever thought he'd be."
Abby mumbled in agreement. Nigel's face went hot when the team turned to look at him.
"You heard the Count. Let's be ready to receive Wally. I have phone calls to make." He left the group standing, grateful no one followed him back through the maze of hallways. He really needed some time alone to think.