Free Renegade (Ministry of Paranormal Research & Defence) by Andrew Chapman Page B

But if you don't—if you can't—you might not want to come back.”
    “ Come back with your shield or on it, boss?”
    “ Something like that. One more thing—”
    There was a startled gasp followed by a commotion on the other end of the line. When Tilehurst came back on he sounded shaken.
    “Holy shit,” he said.
    “ Everything okay, boss?” I asked.
    “ No it's fucking not. I had that damn video playing on my computer here. You just burned that fucking vamp's knob off with a blowtorch!”
    “ Was that before or after I nailed one of his gonads to the chair?”
    There was nothing but heavy breathing on the other end of the line for a long, long moment.
    “Jack, do me a favor. If you ever get that pissed at me, promise me you'll just shoot me. You are... holy shit, Jack. What are you? What the fuck are you?”
    “ I'm a vampire hunter. And now I'm going to hunt some more vampires.”
    “ Just one more thing. There is a white-haired man who is your friend. He wants me to tell you that if you want to pay him a visit on your way to wherever you happen to be going, he's still your friend.”
    “ Understood, boss.”
    “ Okay. Good hunting.”
    I hung up and turned to the bed. Laying on the covers were the tools of my trade. I picked up my black PLCE and buckled it into place. Into their respective holsters went my SIG Sauer P226 9mm and my Heckler & Koch MP7 Personal Defence Weapon. Then the Fairbairn-Sykes fighting knife with the silver-alloy blade. Lastly I slid my second knife, the huge hunting knife with the heavy wolf's head pommel. I had to clamp down on a surge of emotion. The blade had been a gift from Marie.
    I had just finished distributing my weapons when my old cellphone rang. I picked it up and frowned at the unfamiliar number.
     
     

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    My eyelids fluttered before I remembered myself enough to pretend I was still unconscious. I kept my eyes closed and slowed my breathing. Around me I could smell vampires. Vampires and blood. We were in the back of a vehicle, moving along a smooth road.
    The vampires were talking. One was sobbing.
    That felt good. The blackness claimed me again.
     
     

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    The thick metal door was in almost complete darkness. If you didn't know what it was you'd have thought it was simply the back entrance into a disused hardware store. I raised my fist and pounded on the door.
    There was a brief silence before a squeak told me that a peephole had been uncovered.
    “ What's the password?” came a familiar voice.
    I held up a bottle of whiskey.
    “Glenfiddich.”
    Normally I would simply lift a bottle from whatever safe house I was staying at. Tonight I'd had to stop on the way up here and buy one. It wouldn't be wise to stop by a safe house. There'd be too many questions to answer.
    It always puzzled me what Albert did with the whiskey that hunters brought him. He didn't drink a lot, I knew that, but he accepted every bottle with a happy smile. He was probably selling them.
    The door squealed in protest as it was yanked open to reveal a small man with white hair and big, bushy mustache. Ex-military to the tips of his fingers, Albert was neat, combed and pressed. His shirt was crisp and white, his waistcoat buttoned, his shoes shiny. A neat row of ribbons sat above his breast pocket and a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles were hooked over his ears.
    “Hello, Pagan,” he said quietly.
    “ Albert,” I said.
    “ Come on in.”
    Inside the door was a large room, choked with debris. And there was a werewolf.
    “Jason?” I asked, pretty sure I recognized the hulking figure.
    “ Jack,” he rumbled in a deep voice.
    Jason was one of Liam's wolves, a big, intimidating man with shoulders like a bull. When he changed he just got bigger. And he was an ex-Para. He'd joined just after Black Friday, when the British Government had