Demon Driven (29 page)

I nodded, sipping my beer.

“Okay, at some level or another, the feds are
well aware of vampires and weres, as well as Hellbourne and that
ilk. They know you have connections to both groups. They also know
you can dispel demons, run down and kill werewolves with your
hands, render explosives inert, and kill heavily armed, fortified
humans in seconds. They must suspect you can do many of the things
that vampires can do, except you don’t drink blood, and daylight
doesn’t affect you. Do they know that silver doesn’t bother
you?”

“Yeah, they would know that, ‘cause Roma
knows that,” I said.

“Alright then. They also know that you have
an additional ally in the form of Okwari. They must have a pretty
good idea that he can go anywhere, find anyone and is pretty much
unstoppable. That he will kill anything or anyone he thinks is a
threat to his only friend, right?”

I nodded in agreement.

“Alrighty, what else? They know you have
family up here, ‘cause they’ve been snooping around, asking
questions and eyeballing the farm here.”

I must have frowned at that because Gramps
hastened to reassure me.

“Don’t worry about us. Len and I have been
dealing with government types for decades. We’ve been on pretty
strict security around here since all this started last October.
Len sweeps the house twice a day for bugs, and we have several
white noise generators to mask voices. Also, we’ve have extra heavy
drapes over every window to block any vibrations that they might
pick up off the glass with directional laser mikes,” he said.

“You sweep for bugs? Directional laser
mikes?” I was incredulous.

Gramps chuckled and a quick grin slid across
Len’s otherwise somber face.

“You don’t think we keep up to date? Hell,
boy, remember who trains all the local law enforcement types in
search and rescue. I got friends in every department, particularly
the Border Patrol. They keep me apprised of what’s going on. Fact
is, I’ve even seen the Predator drones they use to monitor the
borders.”

“They’re using Predators on the Canadian
border?” I asked, shocked.

“Of course! Too much land to cover with just
people. They just don’t advertise it, that’s all,” he said with a
sly grin. “Now, what else do they know? They have any idea about
your speed or strength?”

I thought about that, then nodded grimly.

“How?” Len asked.

“When they talk to the teachers and kids from
the school, the speed part will be pretty obvious, although they
might struggle a bit with believing it,” I said. “The strength part
is self-evident.”

Gramps raised both eyebrows in question.

“I would have been difficult for the kids to
see. The human eye has difficulty registering older vampire
movements. The strength part will be obvious from the damage to the
terrorists’ bodies,” I explained.

“Difficult to see?” Len asked,
incredulous.

“Yeah,” I said with a shrug.

“Show me.”

I was tempted to go get three more beers but
I didn’t trust myself not to pull the fridge door completely off
its hinges. I’m still trying to get the hang of things and moving
at that speed makes it hard to control my strength. But we had left
some bags of chips on the counter in the kitchen. So I went and got
them…..at Darkkin speed.

I was back in my spot and the breeze
generated by my movements had just ruffled Len’s thinning gray hair
when he realized he had a bag of Lay’s brand potato chips (cheddar
and sour cream) in his lap.

It was one of the few times in my life I had
seen Len with a startled expression on his face. Gramps was gazing
at me thoughtfully.

“You’re faster. A lot faster!” Gramps finally
said.

“Yeah, I seem to gain ability in spurts. Like
this last week or two.”

“Are you as fast as Tanya?”

“Getting pretty close,” was my quiet
answer.

He nodded, still thoughtful. Len said
nothing, just glancing from me to the bag of chips and back
again.

I cleared my throat into the silence and
looked pointedly at the chips.

“You gonna open them?” I asked.

A puzzled expression flashed across his face,
then he chuckled. “Damn, kid! You really can put the grub away,
can’t you?”

“Actually, I have to. My metabolism is
crazy.”

Gramps frowned at that.

“That’s your major weakness. Food! You don’t
need blood, silver doesn’t bother you, sunlight just gives you a
tan, the moon isn’t a factor, but food…lots of food is something
you have to have. If they starved you, what would happen?”

I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. “I get
weaker and slower. I don’t heal as quick, can’t do as many things
with my aura and if it goes on long enough, the virus will most
likely eat me alive.”

“That’s your kryptonite. You need to protect
against that. How?” he asked the room in general.

It was a topic I had given much thought
to.

“Well, I’ve been trying to add weight, both
muscle and fat, by eating myself silly and lifting weights. I also
use a bunch of body builder products to try and pack on weight. I
carry portable food… nutrition bars, shakes and that kind of thing
with me, along with change for vending machines. I schedule myself
to eat every half hour whether I feel like it or not. I tuck candy
and sugar bags in pockets and bags,” I said.

“Good start. But you need to carry even
higher energy stuff. Candy doesn’t have enough empty calories,” he
said thoughtfully. I laughed at the thought of candy not having
enough energy.

“Okay, we’ll work on that. Now that covers
what they know – what don’t they know?” he asked.

“Well, they know about Okwari, but they don’t
really have any idea about what he can do.
I’m
not even sure
about what he can do. I think he is way more than I originally
thought,” I said, registering Gramps’ surprised look. He had met
Okwari several times and been impressed. I continued on.

“They don’t know all the things I can do with
aura, they have no real idea how global or wealthy the Covens are,
or that Kirby can be useful beyond demon snatching. Hell, I don’t
think they really know how much a middle aged vamp can do,” I was
ticking items off on my fingers. “Also, I don’t believe they
understand much about the Pack. None of them know about the Tear of
God, and none of them know about my..er…conversations with
Barbiel.”

The room was silent again. Finally, Gramps
cleared his throat and spoke.

“Anything else?”

I pondered discussing the dark thing inside
me, the berserker or what have you, but I couldn’t bring myself to
tell him. I was ashamed that part of me was demon derived. There
was no way I could face his disapproval on top of my own.

“That’s it,” I said.

“Okay, that’s a helluva lot. Let’s do some
planning! But first show us the Tear and tell me again what it
does,” he said with a determined look.

So we got down to serious work.

Chapter 30

Several hours later, Len retired to his
quarters, leaving Gramps and I to do some talking.

“Here’s the thing, Chris. You are too
dangerous and have too much power. The government is going to be
obsessed with three things; controlling you, killing you and
cloning you!” he said.

“Cloning?”

“Well, perhaps duplicating you is a better
term. Creating super soldiers and spies and that sorta thing.”

“Sounds like a bad Syfy channel movie!” I
said.

He laughed. “As corny and clichéd as it is,
it’s also very real.”

“No matter what, always keep in mind, that
those three goals will be driving them. You can’t ever let your
guard down. And periodically, you are gonna have to throw the fear
of God into them…or if your friend Lydia is right about your bear,
fear of a god!”

“So I have to what? Threaten them?”

“Yeah, that’s a little blunt but pretty much
it in a nutshell. Listen, the kind of guys employed in the NSA,
FBI, CIA, Homeland Security are all professional paranoids. They’ll
always believe the worst about you, never the truth. So you might
as well play to that paranoia,” he said with a shrug.

“I suggest that your best defense is a good
offense. Approach them first, take away the initiative. Set up a
meeting, plan for them to have excessive force options available,
then trump them,” he was on a roll now.

“Also, don’t be surprised by the level your
negotiations take you too. They’ll start with a hardboiled type,
the kind of guy that wins staredowns with pitbulls. You’ll need to
shake him up, bypass him and get to the top.”

“Wait a minute. You’re not suggesting I’ll be
dealing with someone at the White House level, are you?”

“Chris, Chris, Chris! You have presented them
with a national security issue that is beyond anything they’ve ever
dealt with. An individual with the abilities you have displayed,
with the allies you have and with a god on Overwatch is probably
more dangerous that a missing nuclear weapon!”

“What?” I couldn’t reconcile that he was
talking about me. I was no more dangerous to the United States than
the church ladies at St. Mary’s. But as I pulled myself out of the
equation and looked at it from a distance, I could see his point. I
had killed terrorists just this past morning. But what if I was the
terrorist? What agency or department could stop me if I went
bad?

“Listen, I’ve gotta get to bed. Four-thirty
AM comes quick, and those cows don’t milk themselves!”

I said goodnight and cleaned up the snack
debris. Then I made up a bunch of turkey sandwiches, along with a
plate of cheese, fruit and crackers for the weres when they got in.
Were metabolisms raced at almost my level, especially when they
changed
forms.

About an hour later, the three young wolves
came bounding into the house, in two-legged form and in various
states of undress. The males’ lack of shirts didn’t bother me, but
I had trouble figuring out where to keep my gaze directed when
Kelly came in wearing bra and panties, carrying her pants and tee
shirt. I chose to focus on the pemmican recipe that Gramps had
given me, a modernized version of the old Native American emergency
ration that had helped man explore the arctic.

All three were excited, with Brett and Kelly
taking turns telling me about the features of the property that
they liked best. Even the reticent David was smiling.

“You know, don’t you, that you’re violating
the first principle of real estate negotiations by admitting how
much you like the property, right?” I said.

“Yeah, but your grandfather is in bed,
right?” Kelly asked, still blithely unaware that her state of
undress was difficult for me to deal with.

“Ahhh, but you forget that
I’m
the
other owner!” I said, staring into my mixing bowl.

Brett snorted. “Like you didn’t know we loved
it when we toured earlier!” he said, nodding in thanks at the
sandwich I handed him.

I nonchalantly gave one to Kelly and David
each, trying to cover my embarrassment, but Kelly frowned as I
avoided looking in her direction. My peripheral vision picked up a
slow, sly smile spreading across her face as realization struck
home. Brett and David were completely unaware of either her near
nakedness or my discomfort, both raised with almost no nudity
taboos.

Kelly struck an exaggerated pose, leaning
back against the counter with her back slightly arched, her chest
thrust outward.

I turned back to my pemmican, dropping the
rounded ball of my current batch onto a piece of waxed paper.
Another sheet went on top, then I rolled it out into a long, mostly
rectangular bar, all the while trying to ignore Kelly’s
teasing.

Brett frowned, looking from his mate to
me.

Great, now he’ll think I’ve been hitting on
her or something. He’ll blow up and I’ll lose a new friend and a
renter all at once.

He started laughing.

“Dear One, why are you taunting our host?” he
asked, a knowing gleam in his eye.

Kelly smiled a wicked smile. “Because I can!
I found his secret weakness. The mighty fighter is scared of naked
women!”

I spun around. “I’m not
scared
, I’m
just not used to it, is all.”

“Dude! You’re the most dangerous fighter I’ve
ever seen, and you’re blushing! We have
got
to work on your
cool factor!” he laughed.

Relieved that he hadn’t gotten mad, I was
able to laugh with them, but I quickly attempted to deflect the
whole thing by handing out pemmican bars for them to sample.

“Hmm, what’s this?” Kelly asked around a
mouthful.

“It’s a modern update of the old Native
American pemmican recipe. I burn calories even faster than you
guys, so I’m looking for ways to carry energy dense foods with me,”
I explained. “My grandfather was given this recipe by one of his
search and rescue guys.”

“Damn, that’s really good! What’s in them?”
Brett asked.

“This batch has ground up dried beef, mixed
with honey, chopped almonds, raisins and peanut butter. It should
have about 400 calories for two ounces. Whatta ya think?”

They had gobbled down the first sample and
were raiding the other chunks I had cut from my ‘loaf’.

Eyes wide, they nodded and groaned in
delight. The bars did taste good, but the flavor was probably
exaggerated by the weres need for calories. I experienced the same
craving for calorie dense food whenever I got really hungry. In
other words, about five to seven times a day.

“Chris, you oughtta market these! I know the
weres would buy them!” David spoke up in a rare moment of
excitement.

“No, I should get you guys to market them.
You’re the ones with the sporting goods chain!” I laughed.

Kelly’s eyes got huge.

“Brett! I could make them! I could convert
the old milk room in the barn and produce pemmican bars. Lupine
Sports could sell them to hikers and kayakers! Hell, the Pack alone
would buy enough to make it worthwhile. Marissa could help me, at
least until she gets a nursing job!” she said, bouncing up and down
in excitement.