Coalition of the Damned - 03 (6 page)

He turned and pointed to the hallway. “Second door on the left.” His deep baritone voice echoed off the terra cotta floor, but Natashia was gone before the echo had died away. Nadia stood outside, unsure if she should enter or not. Maxwell turned and looked at her. “You look nothing like your mother.” He eyed her from head to toe. “But you might as well come in.”

“I’m Nadia.” She extended her hand to him. “I’m very pleased to finally meet you,” the nervousness in her voice ma
king it crack slightly.

Maxwell looked at her hand and then wiped his hand against his smock, smearing paint across it. He grabbed it lightly and shook it. “I suppose it’s nice to meet you. I figured they’d have a child eventually.” He hiked a brow curiously. “Though I have to admit, I’m surprised it’s taken them this long.”

Nadia stood just inside the door, nervously looking around, unsure what to do next. Maxwell stood beside her and stared. After a moment he grunted and motioned toward the interior of his home.

“This way.” He stepped in a bit and set his artist’s palette down next to his easel. Nadia noticed that from where it was set, he could see out the window to the church and it appeared he was in the middle of painting the castle-like building during its heyday. He picked a few things up off of the couch and tossed them to the corner of the room and swept a few crumbs from the couch. “Sit.”

Nadia took a seat, careful to keep her hands to herself. She looked around the spartan room with just the bare necessities and decided that even though he may have more money than sense, he didn’t live a lavish lifestyle. After a few moments, her mother came from the restroom looking as ravishing as ever.

“Maxwell! So good to see you again,” she purred as she a
pproached the man and embraced him.

“I would say the same thing, Tasha, but I doubt this is a s
ocial call,” Maxwell said, his voice deep and low, his face cautiously watching her every move.

“Why, darling, would you say that?” she asked as she pra
ctically floated about the room, trying to find
something
to compliment him on.

“Because I’ve known you for far too long,” Maxwell admi
tted. “Why are you here?”

“Can’t a girl visit her dear father-in-law once in a while?” she asked, batting her eyelashes.

“No,” he deadpanned.

“But why not? Surely you have no animosity towards me…do you, Maxwell?” she purred again. She had searched every inch of the common areas of his domicile and realized, the man lived as a monk. There wasn’t a single thing in his home worthy of comment.

“I’ll ask you one more time, Tasha. What do you want?” He crossed his massive arms across his chest and stared her down.

“Wouldn’t you at least like to meet your granddaughter?” she asked, using her hands to present Nadia who beamed up at him.

“Nice to meet you,” he said. “There’s the door.” He turned to open it when Nadia stood.

“Mother! This isn’t working,” she whispered through clenched teeth.

“What isn’t working?” Maxwell barked.

“Whatever it is that she’s trying to do,” Nadia tried to e
xplain. “And I don’t understand her behavior. This isn’t like her.” Nadia gave her mother a sideways look then turned back to Maxwell. “Grandfather, we’ve come—”

“Maxwell,” he all but growled.

Nadia instinctively took a half step back. “Excuse me?” She didn’t understand why he snapped at her.

“I’ve only just met you. You never bounced on my knee. I didn’t watch you grow up. I never changed a diaper or had you spit up on my shirt,” he explained. “I didn’t even know that you existed until you walked in my door.” Nadia stood open-mouthed and blinked at him, unable to grasp his animosity. “As far as you’re concerned, I’m just Maxwell.”

She inhaled a stuttering breath and steadied herself. It became obvious to her that
family
meant little to this man. Appealing to that side of him would do her no good. She turned and looked at her mother who had tears forming in her eyes and she turned away from the both of them, unable to look her daughter in the face.

“Very well then, Maxwell…we came here to seek your aid,” she began. “We are on a quest most dire in circumstance and…”

“Who the hell talks this way?” he interrupted her.

Once again Nadia was shocked silent. “I am sorry?”

“Seriously? Who speaks this way? Is this some kind of joke?” he asked Natashia.

Nadia looked at her mother and she saw a tear escape her mother’s eye and run down her cheek. Natashia quickly wiped it away. “It was her father’s idea to have her trained classically, thank you,” Natashia answered without looking at him, her voice trying desperately to reflect some semblance of dignity.

Maxwell nodded, a sneer across his face. He snorted. “I should have known.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Nadia asked.

“Your father,” Maxwell stated, “if there’s a decision to be made, he’ll choose the wrong path.”

Nadia’s anger flared and she stood to her full height and squared her shoulders. She barely met him mid chest, and she wouldn’t weigh a third of what her grandfather weighed, but
nobody
would speak that way about her father in her presence!

“You will hold your tongue when you speak of my father or I’ll remove it, sir!” she huffed. Her breathing and heart rate had increased and she felt her wolf starting to stir. “I’ll have you know that my father is a Lycan of the First Order and both an honorable man and a warrior wolf. I will
not
stand idly by and listen to any man speak ill of him, not whilst breath still flows through me nor my heart still beats!”

Natashia jumped up from the couch and grabbed Nadia by the shoulders to pull her back away from Maxwell. “Nadia! Please! Remember, darling, you are with child!”

“So?!” she cried out, struggling against her mother’s hands.

“If you allow yourself to change this early, you could lose the baby. There are things we must do before the shift to pr
eserve the pregnancy.”

Nadia trembled with anger as she stared up into her grandf
ather’s eyes. She knew that her eyes had already shifted to amber and she fought the urge to shift and tear him limb from limb, but she forced herself to calm down and slowly got herself under control. Maxwell stood his ground the entire time, staring at her impassively.

Once she was calm again, he looked to Natashia. “Spunky little pup, isn’t she?”

Nadia turned again and swung at him, but Maxwell caught her hand in his own, easily encompassing her entire fist and holding her. “Calm yourself, pup.” Something in his voice acted as a balm to her anger and Nadia found herself almost instantly calming. He directed her back toward the couch and maneuvered her into taking a seat.

“Let’s try this again.” He turned to Natashia. “No candy-coating or bullshitting this time. Why are you here?”

“As Nadia said, we need your help.” She still wouldn’t meet his gaze.

“With what?” he asked. “You know I won’t have anything to do with pack business anymore.”

“Oh, we are
well aware
of that,” Natashia spat.

Maxwell gave her a hard look, but she wouldn’t look at him. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. This is not pack business,” Natashia muttered softly.

“What’s going on, Tasha? Is Victoria okay?” he asked, su
ddenly sounding a little concerned.

“She lives,” Natashia sneered.

Maxwell crossed his arms again and glared at her. Natashia cautioned a glance at him and wished she hadn’t. His face was one of concern and anger. “What happened?”

“Which time?” she asked. “In the past, or why are we here now?” She felt like a child being scolded by a parent.

Max pushed away from the wall and took a seat opposite of Natashia so that she could no longer avoid his face. He saw the tears that she had been fighting back and he knew that whatever it was that was eating at her must be bad. Tasha never got teary. She was too strong of a wolf for that. He leaned forward on the couch and forced her to look at him.

“Tell me everything.”

*****

Colonel Mitchell was just about to board his military hop back to Tinker when his cell phone sounded. He answered the call and was ordered to report to the Pentagon. He hated going to the Pentagon but it was one of those necessary evils when you served in today’s military. The big boys that worked there wo
rried more about whether your uniform was absolutely correct and your shoes spit-shined to a mirror finish and Matt had more important worries. But orders were orders, and he was not about to disobey one now.

When he arrived Mitchell logged in and an escort took him to General McAfee’s office. He sat and waited twenty minutes before he was allowed into the inner office to meet with the ge
neral. This gave Mitchell twenty minutes to race through every possible scenario as to why a general he’d never heard of wanted to speak to him. Usually that meant that somebody was about to get their ass chewed, and while there were any number of things that Mitchell could think of that probably warranted an ass chewing, he couldn’t think of why this McAfee would be the one doing it.

When the general’s secretary let him in, he wasn’t the slightest bit surprised at the size and luxury of the office. Walnut paneling with numerous awards and commendations adorned the wall, flags in each corner, plush carpet and a desk that reminded him immediately of the one seen in pictures of the oval office in the White House. The general himself was a small man in sta
ture, but large in personality. Matt’s first impression was a smaller version of John Wayne. The man even resembled the Duke in the face and had a slow Texas drawl in his voice that made Matt warm to him immediately. The general invited him in and even apologized for making him wait, which Matt was not expecting.

“Sorry to keep you waiting out there, Colonel. Had a last minute phone call that I couldn’t get out of and I didn’t think it right to make you sit through it.” He offered a hand.

Matt took the hand, “That’s quite alright, General. No trouble at all.”

The General offered Matt a seat and then went back behind his desk and settled in. “I know that this meeting must seem a bit unorthodox to you, Colonel, but I wanted to meet you face to face.”

“Sir?” Matt questioned.

The general’s eyes twinkled as he measured Mitchell. “I heard you were still in town and I hoped to catch you before you left. I guess I was lucky I did.”

“I’m afraid I’m not following you, sir,” Matt replied honestly.

“Any man that can blow into town and ask for one of my most highly guarded top-secret bases,
and get it
?” the general said, a slight bit of astonishment and a taste of anger in his voice, “Had to have balls the size of Volkswagens.” He leaned back in his chair. “To be honest, I wanted to see how the hell you walked, Colonel.”

Matt’s eyes widened with realization. “I think I understand now, General.”

“I wished to hell that I did,” McAfee said. He leaned across his desk and opened a humidor. He pulled out a cigar and offered one to Mitchell. “We’re not supposed to smoke here in the Pentagon anymore. I told them to kiss my ass. I
earned
these stars and it’s my damned office. I’ll smoke a stogie in here if I want to.” He shot Matt a wink.

Mitchell stifled a smirk. “Thank you, sir. Don’t mind if I do.” After both men lit up, McAfee sat back and blew a blue-grey smoke ring that hung lazily in the air.

“So, Colonel…from what I’ve been told, and please, feel free to kick me in the backside if I’m a dipshit for listening to the bigger dipshits that told me this…but you want my base in Nevada to wage World War Three?” he asked cautiously.

Matt rolled the cigar in his mouth and enjoyed the flavor of the cigar. He debated how much information to share with McAfee. “Exactly what
were
you told General?”

McAfee stared at Mitchell through the hazy smoke accum
ulating in his office. “Are you going to make me say it out loud, Mitchell?”

Matt smiled weakly. “I’m afraid so, sir.”

McAfee sighed audibly. “You’re a son of a bitch then…vampires!” he stated firmly. “There!? You happy now? They told me it was to fight off vampires.”

Mitchell nodded. “You were told correctly, sir.”

“Poppycock!” McAfee yelled. “There’s no such thing as vampires, Mitchell. And you must think I’m a blamed idiot if I’m going to give up my base at Groom Lake for some hair brained—”

“General,” Matt interrupted.

“What!”

“I can prove it,” Matt said, studying the cherry at the end of his cigar.

“Bullcookies, Mitchell. You’re trying to sell me a bill of goods here and I won’t stand for it.”

Mitchell pulled on his cigar again and let the nutty flavor of the cigar coat his mouth. “Feel like taking a little trip, General?”

McAfee stared at Mitchell through the growing haze of cigar smoke, not sure what he was up to. “You’re serious?”