MisStaked (39 page)

"Must have missed her while I was taking a whiz,” Brogan answered.

Stud could tell the man clearly didn't believe him, but was unwilling to push it. That was good, because he was in no mood for bullshit at the moment. “Do you ever sleep?” Stud blurted out. He couldn't help himself.

Brogan puffed on his cigar. “Not if I can help it. Look, you better get some rest. I'll put sleeping beauty to bed."

"Thanks, but aren't you going to ask me what he was doing running away from camp?” Stud asked.

"He was going to whatever's in the tomb. Am I right?"

"Basically, yes. Is anybody guarding it by the way?"

"Nope, I rigged some alarms across the opening. If anything tries to come out, I'll know before it does,” Brogan said.

"Before I go to bed, let me ask you one more thing. What if whatever is in the tomb doesn't trip your precious alarms?” Stud asked, smugly.

"Then, none of us has to worry about waking up with morning breath tomorrow."

D'brea tried to stir, but was too weak. She had expended too much energy last night and would have to wait for one of the humans to come to her. The sound of them moving about kept her awake all day, but none ventured close to her tomb. Even the one from last night had not answered her call. Despite her best efforts, she was powerless.

She had acted too quickly with the first one. D'brea knew through experience you must sample slowly, so as not to draw suspicion, but she had been too hungry and let need override good judgment. That was a mistake she would not make again.

A forgotten sensation broke into her thoughts. Two faint echoes pinged in the back of her mind. Two of her children were close by. The storm was hampering them, but they were close enough for her to feel. For the first time in eons she knew her kind still existed. By tomorrow night they would reach her. D'brea saw into their minds they were coming for her. She didn't know if she liked that. From what little the Mother gleaned from their minds, her race had not changed since her entombment. How sad.

There was little she could do to stop them. So, she would wait for their arrival. Whatever their purpose, they were in for a rude awakening. D'brea was no man's slave. Her will was her own, and it was a lesson she was willing to teach this new generation. She hoped they were smarter than the old one. If not, it was a lesson they would not survive.

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Don't try to wake a vampire up, unless you know what you're doing. They don't like that.

Yawning, Luna walked back into camp, just as everyone was heading out to the tomb. A night on the cold ground had done little to improve her temperament after the fight with Sharbano. She had prowled through the forest for most of the night. Sometime during the middle of the night she had ventured close to camp.

Luna would have come on in and hid in her tent till morning, but damn if Brogan wasn't on guard duty all night, making it next too impossible to get anywhere near it. She contented herself with bedding down within earshot of the collection of tents. All in all, she was totally disgusted by the whole turn of events.

Waking up naked in a snowdrift hadn't helped her mood, either. She had at least remembered to tell Stud to leave her a set of clothes outside of camp before he had left. Otherwise, she would have had to walk starkers back into camp. That would have shocked everyone's modesty to the core, especially Breathred's. Not that she worried about that; her own modesty was enough she wasn't about to flaunt her goodies for everyone. She was saving all her flauntiness for Breathred—well, when the time was right, of course.

Across the clearing, Breathred caught sight of her walking in and waved. She smiled back and took off across the camp at a brisk trot. Breathred broke away from the small group heading to the tomb to meet her halfway. It was a rare thing for him to openly show affection like this. She almost broke into tears. He was finally opening up.

"I was worried when you weren't in the tent this morning,” Breathred told her, slightly out of breath. “I thought something might have happened to you."

"I was okay."

Breathred shook his finger at her. “Stud told me what happened. You shouldn't have left so early without telling me."

"Aren't you cute,” she said, reaching up to tweak his ear. This earned her a puckered snarl Breathred usually reserved for aunts and the occasional visit from his mother. Luna just laughed it off and went on. “I do know how to take care of myself, Mr. Petrifunck."

"I know.” He dug his toe into the ground. “But why did you have to leave so early? Stud said you lost something when you and Sharbano were fighting, but you could have waited for me to go with you."

Luna thanked heavens Stud had come up with something, because she was clueless as to what to say, if the subject came up. “You needed to get your rest before you went into the tomb. Besides, I wasn't gone all that long."

"So, did you find it?"

"Find what?” She shot him a confused look, then caught herself. “Oh, yeah. It was right where I thought it was.” She pulled out the only thing she could think of, the talisman—not that it did her any good, when she really needed it to—and showed it to him.

"Breathred, we're burning daylight. Get the drag out,” Brogan shouted.

"Well, I guess I gotta go. They're waiting for me,” Breathred said. She could tell he wanted to say something more about last night, but was holding back.

"Yeah, you better,” Luna answered back. “If you need me, I'll be in the radio tent."

"I know.” The expression on his face was enough to make her want to cry. He really was a puppy dog.

"Kiss her, for the love of hockey,” Brogan yelled. The statement was followed by a round of less-than-subtle snickers.

Suddenly, Breathred realized he did want to kiss her. That was strange. Maybe this was what boyfriends were supposed to feel. Before he could think himself out of it, he leaned in and gave her a quick peck on the check.

*Author's note:

What did you expect, a long blistering smooch that'd make a hooker blush? Get real. This is Breathred we're dealing with here.

"I'll see ya later,” he mumbled.

"You better,” Luna yelled, as he started back to the others. Not able to help herself, she yelled after him. “And I'll have the rest of that kiss waiting for you when you get back."

Breathred gagged, but kept going. Hopefully, no one noticed her remark. She was across the camp. Even if they did, they were all grownups. Surely they had better things to do than eavesdrop on a private conversation.

"So, what do the think she meant by
the rest of the kiss
thing?” Brogan grinned, when Breathred reached them. “You don't think she plans to curl your toenails, do you?"

"Hush, Brogan. That is none of your business. You should be ashamed for even saying such a thing,” Dr. Grayson snapped. “Can't you see from the look on Breathred's face, this is a matter he'd rather not discuss publicly?"

Brogan threw up his hands. “Hey, I'm just glad he has something to look forward to.” He bent over and whispered in Breathred's ear. “If you decide to back out on the rest of that kiss, let me know. My toes haven't been curled in a long time. Might be fun to see if they still know how."

Breathred blanched at the very idea, but couldn't help wondering what toenail curling had to do with kissing.

"Can we please stop all this foolishness? It's bad enough to be ensconced in this hive of imbeciles without having to be constantly harangued by it,” Truehart griped.

"Looks like we're not the only ones who need a good toe-curling, Petrifunck,” Brogan howled.

"Bloody yanks!” Truehart exclaimed, as he stomped away.

"Hey, ya dumb Limey! I'm a Canuck,” Brogan shouted after him.

"What you are is a distraction I can frankly do without at the moment. All your foolishness is cutting into my time. You promised me this one day to venture into the tomb, and so far all you've done is hamper the opportunity,” Dr. Grayson informed the man.

"Okay, Doc. Lead the way, and never let it be said I left a woman unsatisfied."

As quickly as he moved, Brogan was unable to dodge the hastily constructed snowball that slammed into the back of his head.

"Shall we go, Breathred?” Grayson asked, wiping the snow from her hand. Grabbing him by the arm, she pulled him after Brogan, who was bobbing down the path. Breathred was more than a little unsettled by the way she uncharacteristically giggled the whole way, but the sight of Brogan wiggling, as he fought to keep the snowball from sliding down the inside lining of his jacket, was more than enough to make her forget her usual stoic demeanor he supposed. Breathred was having the devil of a time trying to keep from laughing, but he knew better than to give in to the urge. The sound of Brogan grumbling was enough to let him know to keep his mouth zipped. A hundred yards from the tomb, still mumbling, the man called them to halt a few minutes later.

"Before we jump our asses into this crap I think I need to reiterate the seriousness of what you're about to do. I'd be lying to ya’ if I didn't tell ya’ I'm having second thoughts about letting you yahoos go in there. I hate to admit it, but the only thing stopping me is I'd like to know what the hell's in there, too."

"Then stop holding us up, and let us get to it,” Truehart grumbled.

"Let him finish talking first. I'd like to find out what's in there as much as you, but going in half-cocked is just plain stupid,” Breathred cut the Englishman off, glad for the reprieve Brogan's speech was giving them. Being this close to the tomb was giving him the heebie jeebies.

"Thanks, Breathred,” Brogan gave him a nod before continuing. “I was able to salvage enough equipment from the wreckage of the radio tent for you to take a limited video hook-up in with you. Putting you three in the lion's den scares the crap out of me, but at least this way I can keep an eye on you in case things go south. As much as I'd like to say to hell with it, I can't. CAPP SAT wants answers and, my friends, this is my only chance to get those answers."

"You make us sound like bloody cannon fodder,” Truehart snapped.

"Bub, you wanted to go in, not me. Don't bitch because you might get your ass handed to you. Feel free to back out anytime you want. Easily can fill your shoes and you can ride the chair beside me.” Breathred saw the look on Brogan's face and knew the man was calling the Englishman's bluff.

"Kiss my arse, Canuck."

"Thought you'd see it my way.” Breathred caught Brogan's sly wink, but kept his face blank.

"Brogan, is there anything else we should know before we go in?” Dr. Grayson asked.

He shook his head. “You all know what you have to do, but I want to make sure everybody knows this isn't a game. The first sign of trouble I want you to haul your asses out of there. This isn't the place for fools."

Truehart sneered. “And that does little to explain the inclusion of Petrifunck in this group. Perhaps we should have invited the monkey. At least then we'd have an excuse for this circus you have assembled."

"Well, he'd be the perfect match for the talking horse's ass we got now,” Brogan snapped. “Now, shut your pie-hole so I can finish."

"Edmund, please show a little decorum. We are all colleagues in this,” Dr. Grayson stated.

"It may be true of you and I, but Petrifunck is a farce, and you damn well know it. For the life of me, I can't see what madness consumed you to include him on this team,” Truehart remarked, snidely.

"That is quite enough. Breathred is on this team because he has skills that are needed, much as yourself. If you can't accept the fact, maybe Doctor Easily should join us as Brogan suggested. I'm sure she would be more than happy to."

"You are quite right, Donna. My behavior was atrocious. Forgive me. I will endeavor to comport myself with more dignity in the future. Petrifunck, I apologize.” Truehart begrudgingly extended his hand.

As Breathred shook the man's hand, he could tell by the look in the man's eyes this was a token gesture, at best. As long as it kept the peace, he would accept it in the spirit it should have been meant. He just hoped whatever animosity Truehart felt toward him would subside. This had to do with Truehart's brother, but he couldn't change the past. Heck, he couldn't even remember it.

"Good. Now that we've all made up and gone all Dr. Phil with each other, do you want to do this or not? “Brogan asked.

"I think you know the answer,” Dr. Grayson stated.

"Good, while you three were bonding, I disabled the alarms and traps. I'm giving you four hours to look around. That's four hours by my watch, not yours.” He tapped his wrist to illustrate his point. “I'll call you fifteen minutes before time to haul ass out, so you can wrap it up."

"That is scarcely enough time to do an adequate study of the tomb, let alone the detailed one we need to do!” Truehart exclaimed.

"Tough. You're under the misconception this is still your mission. The minute Sharbano went all psycho, this fell under the sole providence of the Canadian government. So, you can shove all your haughty speeches up your English wahzoos,” Brogan explained in no certain terms.

"Edmund, if that is all the time Brogan is allowing us, we will have to make it work. Don't worry, we will still have a video record to work from, once we're back in Seattle,” Dr. Grayson assured him.

"If the bloody barbarian doesn't confiscate it,” Truehart warned.

"Don't give me any ideas, Bub,” Brogan snarled.

"Stop all this. We have a job to do and all this bickering isn't helping. Brogan, if you have anything productive to say, say it. Edmund, you can be quiet and let him say it,” Breathred ordered, frustrated by the whole thing.

"I only got one thing to say. Turn on your equipment and get going. I'll be in the radio tent waiting for your transmission,” Brogan said. Breathred could tell he was making it a point to ignore Truehart.

"Now, was that so hard?” Breathred asked.

No one said a word. Dr. Grayson and Truehart shouldered their packs and walked down the slope to the tomb. Breathred held back, and moved closer to Brogan.