Chapter 4: Initial Actions
"Okay son, I think you need to let us know what you've been up to for the last couple of weeks."
The young lycan stared fearfully at John from his seat in the Cleaners' safe location. Mark, who was with the elder lycan, translated the question to Hungarian for the captive/guest's benefit.
"Why does he need a translator? Didn't your elder come from Hungary?" One of the cleaners, named Pat, asked Michael. The hybrid and two of Mark's comrades were watching the interview/interrogation on a television screen, via a tiny camera hidden in the room. With any luck, the vagabond lycan would be less likely to panic and clam up with only two people questioning him.
"He's from Hungary," Michael answered. "But from over six centuries ago. While he understands Hungarian, when someone speaks slowly and clearly, he probably won't be able to understand a scared youngster who uses a lot of slang."
"Then why didn't you translate?"
"For one thing, I'm a hybrid. We're trying to get that boy to calm down a little bit, not scare him by confronting him with something he's never smelled before today. For another thing, you guys wouldn't trust us three immortals in the same room alone, camera or no."
"That's bloody true enough," Pat nodded.
In the interrogation room, John's only answer was a panicked stare.
"Okay son," John tried again. "Why don't we do this the easy way? You're starving; I can see that." The elder produced a large mug of beef blood and took a small sip before setting it near the youngster. "Take some blood. You'll be able to face things a lot better with it."
Again, he paused while Mark translated.
"It isn't poisoned or drugged," John assured the man, when he didn't appear ready to take the nourishment. "You saw me take some with your own eyes and you can tell I'm your type with your own nose. No matter what we have planned for you, you'll be better off fed and healed."
Maybe it was John's logical argument; maybe it was his reasonable tone. Maybe it was the fact that the youngster was hungry and tired but the lycan nodded and took the glass. John could tell that he was trying to maintain a stoic demeanor but just couldn't manage it. The younger lycan started out sipping at the blood but quickly guzzled the glass dry.
"Now we're getting somewhere," John commented, noting with satisfaction that the captive's body was starting to fill in just a little bit. "You're feeling a little better already, aren't you?"
The younger lycan nodded his head, after Mark translated.
"I hope you realize that if we wanted to do anything unpleasant to you, we would have done it while you were weak," John informed him. "I'm not going to lie to you and tell you that we're on your side but I will say that we might be on your side."
Another nod answered him, after the translation.
"Let's start with a simple question, what's your name?"
"Tibor," the young lycan gasped.
"Okay Tibor, things are going to get a little more complicated. How long have you been living in Rotterdam?"
"Is that where I am?" Tibor countered.
"I'm the one asking questions," John growled. "But for your information, yes."
"I'm not sure, maybe a few weeks. It has been hard to keep track."
"I understand. Where were you living before you came here?"
"An abandoned mine outside of Salgotarjan," Tibor answered. "Ivor wanted to be far enough away from the bloods' base in Budapest that we'd have some warning if they came after us but still be close enough to keep an eye on them."
"I take it Ivor's your leader."
"He was," Tibor replied. "He founded our den."
"Was?" John prompted.
"We got wiped out. Things had gone crazy and it was my turn to stand watch in Budapest. There were only six of us, counting Ivor. We only had one vehicle, a motorcycle. I had it and a cell phone. I was riding back to the den to turn them over to the next watcher. I knew something was wrong when I got to the old property fence and the sentry wasn't there. I got to the mineshaft and I could smell the blood and offal from my pack. I could smell the others and hear them talking. I…I…"
The young lycan slumped, unable to meet either John's or Mark's gaze. John suspected that he knew the problem.
"I'm over six centuries old," he told Tibor. "If you think I've followed the hero's path that entire time, you're mistaken. Son, there have been times I've run like a coward and times I've cried like a baby. If you think I'm going to come down on you for not taking on whoever took out your pack, you're wrong. I just need to know everything you can tell me."
John's admission of imperfection seemed to put some iron back in Tibor's spine. After Mark translated, he sat up a little straighter and held his chin up a little higher.
"I just ran," he admitted. "I knew that there were several of them inside the mine so I turned around, jumped on the motorcycle and just left. I had enough money to keep petrol in the motorcycle until I reached the Austrian Border but I didn't have a passport. Of course, that's not that big of a deal for things like us, is it? I pawned off the motorcycle and crossed the border at night. Eventually, I found a train heading west and jumped on. I wound up here."
"Just where were you trying to go?" Strangely, it was Mark that asked this question, which he repeated, in English, for John's benefit.
Tibor glanced, pointedly, between his two captors until John nodded for him to answer.
"I didn't know," he admitted. "I just wanted to get away. I kept going until I couldn't catch the scent of a lycan or a blood. I never thought about passports or language. I don't speak Dutch, German or English, so I couldn't really fit in all that well."
"Why didn't you take a normal human?" John asked. "You were clearly starving to death."
Mark seemed very interested in the answer.
"Do you think I'm insane?" Tibor demanded. "If I started to attack humans, it would have only been a mater of time before they tracked me down! I just hid here and hoped nobody would notice the strays going missing."
"What were your long term plans? You were starving! How much longer could you have held out?"
"I was going to move, eventually but I was scared that another band would track me down. I don't want to die!"
"I understand," John nodded. "Now you're a loner. I'm offering you the chance of joining a group. You'll have comrades and food. In return, you'll be our guide in your old range."
"You want me to go back?"
"We need to. You've seen yourself that the war didn't stay in Budapest, it spilled out to your den. Why do you think it will stay in Hungary or even Eastern Europe? What happens when it gets so out of hand that the normal humans find out? Son, your only chance is our only chance, to go back and try to put an end to the fighting."
Tibor dropped his head. Clearly, John's authority and logical reasoning were evenly matched with the younger lycan's fear.
"You won't have to worry about the bloods," John told him, trying to play a trump card. "We're have an alliance with one group and it should grow to include more."
"Bloods!?" Tibor snorted, half-amused and half-disgusted. "Elder, it wasn't bloods that killed my pack. It was my own, fellow lycans."
"What?" John was dumbfounded.
"It isn't just us and the bloods killing each other off," Tibor informed him. "The packs have started to tear into each other. Our mineshaft was a prime den and the other pack wanted it for themselves."
"Why didn't they attack you before?" Mark demanded. "In my years with the Cleaners, we never found any traces of a lycan-on-lycan fight."
"They happened," Tibor informed him. "But it was never whole packs going after each other. We'd poach a member or two from rival packs and they'd do the same thing to us, every so often. You never found any evidence because we cleaned it up and none of us actually exist on any census."
"What happened?" Mark continued his questions.
"Ivor might have been able to tell you!" Tibor snarled at the normal human. "But he's gone, I smelled his life's blood! If you want to know, you're going to have to ask the bastards that butchered my kin!"
"That's exactly what we're going to do," John cut in. "You're going to lead us right to your old den and we're going to deal with this."
"I…but…" Tibor stammered. Finally, after a minute of silence, he continued. "I will do as you command, elder but I want you to know that I'm no hero. If they kill you, I'll turn and run again."
"I'm not asking for anything else…yet," John told him. "We're going to be leaving in a day or so. In the meantime, feed and rest up; the next few weeks are going to be rough."
John left a large thermos full of beef blood on the table and he and Mark left the secure room, locking it behind them. Tibor simply shrugged his shoulders, consumed another serving of the life-giving fluid and settled back on his cot to get some rest.
"So what's the plan now?" Michael asked, as soon as John and Mark returned to the Cleaners' control room.
"Pretty much the same that we came up with before we met Tibor," John told him. "The only change I'd suggest is that we check out this pack in Salgotarjan, on our way to Budapest."
"I agree," Mark informed the two immortals, taking a seat. "We can find out what our friend in there isn't willing to tell us."
"Unwilling?" John asked. "I'd say he told us everything he knew."
"I don't believe he didn't know what had changed; why the lycan bands became more violent after the elders passed away," Mark informed him, taking a seat. The former Cleaner gestured for his guests to be seated as well. Moments later, Mark's comrades joined them. While there was still suspicion, a great deal of tension had faded.
"His pack founder, this Ivor fellow, probably kept him in the dark," John countered. The elder lycan heaved a sad sigh. "Not all lycans care very much about their followers. Too many of us try to establish a pack and exploit those we can turn. While most humans die within an hour of being bitten by an immortal, a few change. When that happens, the established immortal's experience usually allows him to dominate the new immortal."
"So what happens?" Michael had personal interest in finding out.
"The established immortal treats the new ones like a lord ruling serfs," John answered. "He forces the younger ones to work for him and protect him. Some, like Victor, did so with a sense of honor; he treated his followers as valued servants and made an effort to help them serve him better. Others aren't as considerate."
"Meaning what?" This time, Mark asked the question. Michael figured this was the first friendly contact he had ever had with an immortal.
"Meaning that they don't give their followers the tools they need to be effective support." A quick glance at his audience told John that they didn't understand his statement.
"Okay, imagine that you're a new immortal, less than a year after turning," John began.
"I think I can imagine that," Michael chimed in.
"You haven't yet managed to blend in with the normal humans," John continued, giving Michael an amused glance. "You haven't managed to pass normal food through your system. If you're a lycan, you haven't managed to control your temper, which means you can't control your changes. If you're a blood, you obviously can't withstand sunlight. In either case, you're probably a missing person. While you can go out and mingle with normal humans for a few hours, you can't do anything more permanent, like getting a good job, opening a savings account or making a major purchase."
"How is this a disadvantage for an immortal?" Mark looked honestly perplexed.
"Even immortals need shelter, clothing and transportation," John pointed out. "That means we have to deal with the people who provide these things in return for money. Capitalism 101, I give you money and you provide me with a product or service I want."
"I understand that!" Mark snapped back.
"Okay, how does an immortal get the money? Since you don't have a real identity and you're either very short tempered or can't withstand sunlight, your employment opportunities are very limited. The only job you can get is the sort that doesn't appear on tax records. These jobs don't pay very well so you either work for peanuts or you go into crime."
"What does this have to do with the original immortal?" Mark asked.
"I'm getting to that. If you're a short-sighted, parasitic immortal, you send your followers out to work these jobs, or perform crimes, for weeks and months on end and you take all their money when they return."
"What's the alternative?"
"You develop them and your own situation. You develop contacts that allow you to put your followers into safer, better-paying jobs. You work with your followers so that they can blend into normal human society. At the end, you help him live completely independently of you."
"How do you know all of this?"
"I've spent centuries keeping my pack safe by breaking up two-bit dictators like I just described. The sad fact is that more lycans than bloods have died at my hand. I console myself with the fact that most lycans I've encountered now live relatively normal lives and the normal humans that live around them have no idea just what they are…and no need to fear them."
"So this lycan band in the cave…" Michael prompted.
Is a danger to all immortals," John informed him. "Or to be more precise, the leader is. That's why I want to take the detour to deal with them. We'll eliminate a leader who's too aggressive and find out more about what's happening in the old country."
"Well, you've more than earned our conditional trust," Mark added. "We'll have our transportation arranged in about another twelve hours. In the meantime, we'll allow you a short message to your comrades. Write it out and I'll send the gist of it. We still don't trust you completely and I won't take the chance that you're sending some sort of codewords."
"Fair enough," John nodded. "I have a feeling we'll all be meeting up in Hungary before too much longer."
"We have a problem and you're going to be the key to solving it."
Selene spun around to see Jeff, the senior lycan in her group. She sighed in frustration. The last couple of days had been trying enough without any further complications. She missed Michael and was more than a little worried that she hadn't heard from him and John yet. After overseeing the shipping company loading the coven's secure rig onto the freighter, she had hopped aboard the ship for the voyage to Antwerp. The coven members had been forced to shelter in the rig, as the ship arrived during daylight hours. Selene and the pack members had overseen the company that transferred the rig from the freighter to a rail car.
Selene could just about imagine what the vampires inside the rig were going through, as a crane suspended their rig in midair, in broad daylight. She chose to ignore the comments several pack members made about how much simpler life would become if the rig were to break free, fall and break open. She did, however, snarl at them to shut up when they began to discuss just how much they would have to pay the crane operator to make the accident occur. She heaved a sigh of relief when the rig was secured aboard the cargo train.
Next, Selene and the pack members had to secure transportation for themselves. This wasn't exactly easy, since none of them spoke Belgian. Fortunately, the travel-company had enough people who spoke English that they were able to secure passes aboard a passenger train. Of course, this wasn't the same train that carried the rig, which didn't exactly please Lecoq. The New World Coven's leader explained, long and loud over the telephone, just how little he cherished the idea of his band traveling, through the daylight, with no guardians nearby. Selene finally silenced him by suggesting that she and the lycans didn't necessarily need to be waiting for the coven, at Pecs, when the rig's train arrived. While Lecoq still wasn't happy, he acknowledged her point.
The passenger train arrived in Pecs well before the cargo train, which allowed Selene and her companions to secure some local transportation. As a Death Dealer, Selene had occasionally received assignments that took her around Hungary, searching for hidden lycans. As such, she was familiar with some of the various companies and individuals who did business with the Coven and she had plenty of money to spend. She was able to rent a tractor with very little difficulty. One of the lycans had spent the last decade driving cattle trucks, so he would be able to tow the rig with little trouble. She was also able to rent two roomy, luxury cars and two vans, combining hauling capacity and comfort for her reluctant, lycan allies. Now, with sundown less than an hour away and the freight train scheduled to arrive less than an hour after that, she didn't want to deal with additional problems.
"If you're talking about the vampire scent you've already detected, I'm perfectly aware of it," Selene informed him, in an almost bored tone. "It's my decision that we'll allow the coven members in the rig to make contact. We need to find out what's happening, not settle centuries' old vendettas. If you destroy them, we receive no information."
"It's not that easy. These bloods have been feeding on humans."
"You will not use that term for vampires again!" Selene snapped. She really didn't have any animosity towards Jeff because the lycan didn't show any animosity towards her. He had been born in Canada and the lycan/vampire blood feud was news, not experience, to him. Unfortunately, half of the lycan band was from Eastern Europe and only their pack-enforced discipline kept them from running off to settle old scores.
"Whatever term I use, this is serious," Jeff retorted.
"How do you know that they've been feeding on humans? I can't determine this."
"You've had a lycan's sense of smell for less than a month, while I've had it for two and a half centuries. You've got the tools but not the experience. You can't tell the difference between all the human blood inside human bodies and what the bl…er…the vampires have spilled. Add to this, we've checked the local papers. A couple of people have gone missing in the last couple of weeks. You have two normals vanishing and spilled, human blood on vampires. I don't think it's a coincidence."
"So what do you want to do about it? Are you some sort of bold defender for the normals?" Five plus centuries of existence had given Selene an annoyed look that very few could withstand.
Jeff did. "I'm more worried about my kin and I," he informed her. "Back in North America, neither the coven nor the pack preyed on the normals. We knew that if we did so, they'd eventually figure out what was happening. We killed more fellow lycans than vampires and I'm pretty sure the coven's Death Dealers eliminated more rogue vampires than lycans. From what I've heard, the elders also kept the coven from taking normals in Europe. It seems to me that these two vampires certainly knew better."
"What if they fled here, holed up in a safe house then took humans when the house's synthetic blood stocks ran out? I'm not going to kill two vampires for trying to stay alive."
"I'm not buying that explanation and neither are you," Jeff countered. "There's plenty of sheep herds and dairy farms within a few miles…er…kilometers of here. If they needed food they could have taken livestock."
"It isn't the same for vampires," Selene countered, although she admitted her argument was weak. "If you leave town to feed, then daylight catches you in the countryside, you simply walk back into town as a human. A vampire dies in the sunlight."
"Still not buying it," Jeff insisted. "One of my pack paced out the course to a couple of ranches. These two could have made the round trip, with an hour thrown in to feed, and still only used half of the night. No, our two rogues have been poaching because they like the prey they've taken."
"So what do you want me to do about it?" Selene snapped.
"Nothing permanent," Jeff assured her. "But this is the sort of crime that needs more than a simple slap on the wrist. Personally, my pack and I would rather eliminate them but if we take them out, the coven members are going to view it as murder. If we run to Lecoq, the moment he arrives, and tattle, we'll look weak in front of the coven. As for Lecoq, if he punishes them, severely, at our request, he'll look like he's siding with us over his own kind. That might alienate other coven members."
"I take it you have a suggestion?"
"Yeah, what say we present these two poachers to Mr. Lecoq, wrapped up nice and tidy and on a pewter platter?"
"English isn't my first language, but isn't the term a silver platter?" Selene actually had the ghost of a smile on her face.
"I'm a lycan, I don't much care for silver," Jeff deadpanned. "Picture this; two vampires are holed up in a safe house, maybe feeling a little guilty about taking a couple of humans. Suddenly, a pack of mangy lycans bursts in and captures them. It's pretty obvious to these vampires that the only reason the beasts haven't killed them is that they haven't figured out how to divvy up the blood. Now, the famous Death Dealer, Selene bursts in and intimidates the lycans into releasing the captives. When she demands to know what's going on and why they've taken humans, what do you think the scared and grateful vampires are going to do?"
"Sing like canaries," Selene nodded. "There's only one problem with your little plan; what if they fight back? We stocked our safe houses with weapons and silver bullets. While the silver nitrate rounds Kahn came up didn't get mass produced, silver's no joke to you."
"I've thought about that," Jeff told her. "And I think I have a solution. We've sniffed out the safe house and it looks like a small, abandoned apartment building. The two vampires are going to be in the cellar, aren't they?"
"Most likely. I'm unaware of any safe houses with aboveground shielded rooms. It's much easier to shield them when they're underground."
"I thought so. This means that we'll be able to wander the ground floor without calling too much attention to ourselves, doesn't it?"
"Except from the two vampires," Selene pointed out. "What are you getting at?"
"You'll see. We've already gathered up the burlap sacks, sand and ropes that we'll need."
Selene wasn't sure if she really wanted to know what the lycans were up to.
Less than a half-hour later, she had to admit that 'crude but effective' was a very apt phrase when dealing with the North American Pack. Jeff's plan was simple; the lycans filled up several burlap sacks with sand and loaded them into one of the vans. As predicted, there was nobody in the safe house's ground floor. The pack quickly found the stairway leading below while four of their members, including Jeff, hung the sandbags on their bodies as a sort of armor.
A few short weeks ago, Selene would have gunned these lycans down without mercy. Now, she found herself silently wishing them luck as one of their packmates broke the door, allowing the four 'sandbagged' lycans to rush into the basement.
Jeff led the way down the stairs. His enhanced hearing picked up the sounds of someone or, more likely, something scrambling in the darkness below him. Four shots rang out. The first round hit the sandbag over his chest, the second tore a furrow across his shoulder and the last two flew wild. Jeff managed a glimpse of the gunner ducking inside a door and slamming it shut.
The four sandbagged lycans went back to back at the foot of the stairs, observing their surroundings. They found themselves in a dark, open room lined by doors. The smell of both vampire and dead human was stronger here. Before Jeff could start the game of cat and mouse, searing pain shot through his chest. He dropped the sandbag over his chest to reveal a smoking wound. The first bullet had fractured and a silver fragment had penetrated his skin.
"Second wave in," he hissed, digging a set of needle-nosed pliers out of his pocket. In response to his command, four more lycans descended the stairs while their sandbagged kin edged outwards, making a sheltered place for the newcomers. Once in the basement, the second wave embraced the wolf.
Jeff snarled as he dug the fragment out of his chest. Fortunately, the sandbag had absorbed most of the bullet's force. His own sternum had stopped the sliver but it still hurt like the devil. Dropping the hated metal to the floor, the senior lycan carefully reviewed the plan and embraced the wolf.
As always, the dim room suddenly became brighter even as colors faded into shades of gray. The scents that he had detected while in human form sharpened, becoming much than odors. Now, his nose gave him a picture of his surroundings that complimented what his eyes were telling him. In addition, the vague rustlings he had heard before became much more defined. Now, he could tell that two beings were whispering to each other behind one of the doors.
The downside was that he lost some of his reasoning. He knew that the beings inside the room were his hated enemies and he desperately wanted to shatter through the thin wood separating him from them. He wanted to feel their flesh rend beneath his claws, to hear their bones snap under his maw and to taste their hot blood in his mouth. However, he could remember that he had to change back, to become weaker but smarter. Reluctantly, he released his strength and denied his urges.
Once in his human form, Jeff motioned towards the door he had heard the vampires behind. Now that he had regained his human reasoning, he realized that one of the sounds he had heard earlier was the vampires reloading a weapon. Jeff motioned towards the door, then towards two of the changed lycans. The two lycans he had selected stood while the human-formed lycans draped all of the sandbags upon them. Jeff selected one of his armored kin, who crept up close to the door with the other armored lycan directly behind him.
At Jeff's signal, the first lycan hurled his weight against the door, smashing it into the room. Shots rang out, tearing into the sandbags the lead lycans carried. The two armored lycans surged deeper into the room, with the unchanged lycans on their heels. The two vampires were sent sprawling by the onrushing lycans. Jeff, right behind his changed kin, jumped on top of the first vampire he spotted…
…and was sent sprawling. While Jeff was stronger than a normal human, he wasn't anywhere near as strong as a vampire while he was in his human form. The lycan noticed that one of his kin was howling in agony and reverting to his human form, clearly suffering from silver intrusion. The other armored lycan hurled a sandbag at the vampire that had struck Jeff, smashing the stunned immoral into the far wall.
Jeff refused to black out. He got his feet under him again and lunged for the fallen vampire while two more of the unchanged lycans grappled the second blood. Avoiding his opponent's fangs, Jeff secured a wristlock and threw the vampire onto her belly. In the few moments she remained stunned, he secured her hands behind her back with a couple of tie-wraps. Before she could regain her feet, he lashed her ankles together with a couple more.
"One clear!" He shouted, keeping his knee in the small of her back.
"Two clear!" A shout came back. He risked a glance and noticed that two of his kinsmen had secured the other vampire.
"Human form!" Jeff shouted. "See to the wounded!"
The three kinsmen still in werewolf form started to revert. While all of the kinsmen with him were experienced lycans, Jeff didn't see any need to take any chances. The bloods had managed to inflict a couple of injuries and were now lying helpless. Wolven aggression could easily overcome inhibited reasoning in these circumstances.
Another kinsman started to dig silver shards out of the wounded lycan. Jeff got a closer look at his captives and decided that they had been functionaries of some sort. Neither had handled their weapons terribly well and they hadn't taken advantage of the time the lycans had spent organizing the last rush. Now, he fell into his role, leering at the helpless captives. Moments later, Selene burst into the room and snarled at the gathered lycans to leave.
Jeff somehow managed to keep the grin off his face until he left. He wasn't fluent in current Hungarian but he was pretty sure he heard one of the vampires say something to the effect of 'thank the elders.' He ushered the rest of his pack upstairs while he stayed below, listening in.
It was like he suspected, the vampires were telling Selene everything.
Mr. Lecoq wasn't happy about the turn of events but he hid his emotions well. Granted, the reports he received from the two, captive vampires were valuable and the fact that the lycans and Selene had captured them with no permanent damage to any party was heartening. His allies had secured proper transportation for the combined party and he approved of their plans to move to a Budapest safe house. However, he wasn't happy about the way his allies had begun to work together.
Earlier that day, he had received the message from Mark that John, Michael and the Cleaners had captured a lycan refugee and were about to investigate a rogue lycan pack. While a casual observer might be heartened by the news, Lecoq saw deeper.
There were now four factions active in this venture; the lycans, the coven, the hybrids and the Cleaners. Selene was developing a rapport with the North American Pack while John and Michael were developing a rapport with the Cleaners.
Where did that leave the coven?
After careful consideration, Lecoq chose to not forward the message onto Selene and Jeff. At this moment, the only leverage he had over the other three factions was the fact that he controlled communications between the groups. Until his coven was in a position to exert its influence, he had to keep everyone else off balance.
Again, my fond thanks to everyone who's stayed with me so far. I regret to say that I may miss next week's usual posting time, as real life has been catching up with me. Please don't think that I've given up on this story, I'm enjoying it too much.
Until my next posting, best wishes;
daccu65