Between their recent blood meals, and the effects of the kickstarters, both Truk and Lash were in good enough shape to push hard for the train station. With Narcist gamely keeping up, they managed to use their vampire physiques to their optimum capabilities and thirty minutes became ten.
Still, they were fairly winded by the time the train station came into view.
"Are your civilian disguises still sufficiently intact?" Lash managed to ask between deep, fueling breaths as they stopped just across the street from the busy station.
"As long as they ignore the holes and the blood, I should be fine," Truk said, earning himself a snort from Narcist, who gave him a shove with her forearm. Then she too answered.
"Mine are holed as well, but no blood," she indicated. "It should pass a casual inspection."
Lash nodded and took stock of his own disguise. And quickly found himself frowning at discovering, much like Truk's, his clothes were well ventilated and sported numerous bloodstains.
Looking up with a frown, he scanned the station itself. And found the frown fading slightly at spotting a couple of clothing boutiques close to the station where they could purchase replacements. Along with a bank machine where they could get a cash advance off his Qos Viran-issued credit cards.
"Narcist. I am a triple XL long. Truk?"
"Uh, double XL regular, I think."
The tech specialist frowned.
"You're telling me this, why?" she asked.
"We need new jackets to repair our disguises." Lash looked at her. "And you're the only one of the three of us not covered in your own blood."
A look of resignation washed across her face.
"Fair point."
After a quick trip to the bank machine to get a cash advance, Narcist was sent cash in hand into the clothing store that offered products for both sexes.
It was a tense few minutes spent waiting for her to return. But not so tense, Truk didn't have a wry comment or two to make.
"I hope she doesn't get me something with flowers on it," he said as Lash scanned the street yet again, looking for Hand operatives and White Flames in disguise.
"Don't like flowers?" the big vampire asked, eyes narrowed as he spotted two Hand operatives in daycloaks exiting the train station before moving down the street away from them.
"Never got an appreciation for them, you know?" Truk folded his arms. "Too dayside."
Lash watched the operatives disappear, apparently unaware of the furor his team had stirred in the city, before looking over at his fellow Ventru.
"And if she does?"
Truk grimaced.
"I'll take it, of course. If I say anything, she'll shoot me in the face."
A hint of a smile touched Lash's lips at that. Narcist did, indeed, seem the type to shoot first in such situations. Then the smile was vanishing as the third member of their small company stepped out of the store, bag in hand, and turned towards where they were lurking at the corner of the building.
As she got close, the lithe vampiress reached into the bag and pulled out a pair of hooded sweatshirts in dark, solid colors.
"You're lucky we're in Ireland, not Italy," she said as she tossed a dark gray hoodie to the grim Lash. "They were just about out of size 'giant'. But at least they had one."
Truk got a navy blue hoodie in his turn. After catching it, he gave it a quick look over.
"No flowers?" Lash asked as he pulled his tattered jacket off. Truk threw him a look and a lopsided smile.
"Thank the Dark Father, no," he said before starting to pull his own tattered jacket off.
Narcist frowned as she looked from Lash to Truk then back to Lash again.
"Am I missing something?" she asked, earning herself another small smile from Lash.
"Yes, much to Truk's relief," he said, settling the hoodie around his powerful torso. He too was thankful they were in Ireland, where the occasional person got as large as he was, instead of Italy, known for its diminutive men. It made finding clothing that fit just a little bit easier.
A quick check to make sure everything was either stored or out of sight, then he was slinging his backpack over his shoulders.
"Let's go get some tickets," he directed instead of answering Narcist's question, forcing her to stifle her curiosity about the strange exchange and get her own gear ready to go, with Truk already stepping up beside Lash.
With a final check to make sure they were clear of unwanted surveillance, Lash led the way further along the street before taking the hard right towards the station's main doors. Just before they went through the doors, their bloody jackets were pushed into a nearby trash receptacle. Then they stepped inside. And, as soon as they were, he was using a knife hand gesture to direct them towards the wall.
For good reason; the station was busy at this time of day. With only one train station in Galway, Ireland Rail used it as its primary access to the coastal city, running regular trains between Galway and Dublin, with the trip just a little under two and a half hours. According to the schedule that was flashing up on the board, the Dublin to Galway train had just arrived five minutes ago, its passengers, a mix of Irish and tourist humans, now filing into the station to pick up luggage, head over to the Tourism Ireland kiosk, or meet people there to pick them up.
Unfortunately for the three Ventru, it was also perfect cover for Hand operatives lurking in the crowd, car'dieth blades ready. And White Flames, which had already demonstrated a willingness to open fire on their targets in crowded public venues.
Hence the careful crawl along with the wall, giving them a somewhat defensible position in case they were attacked out of an ambush. It was a tense few minutes before they reached the row of automated tellers selling tickets. And then it was a few more tense minutes as, with tickets in hand, they stepped out onto the platforms where the trains themselves waited.
With the information regarding the train they would be boarding printed right on the tickets themselves, they were able to quickly locate which platform they needed to go to. A careful slide through the crowds that were now starting to build with a number of local trains getting ready to leave and they were on the correct platform. A final look around them to make sure they weren't being followed then they were climbing on board.
Since this was a day-time train, there wasn't an option to purchase a sleeper for the three of them to occupy and close the door for additional protection. It was also first come, first serve with no seats being reserved. So, after a moment's hesitation, they moved through the train until they came to a cabin with seats close to the door. That way they had two that could sit with their backs to a wall, with sight lines down the length of the car, while the third watched the nearest door.
"I'll take the door," Truk offered, dropping into the rear-facing seat of the four they had picked. Nodding, Lash indicated that Narcist take the window seat, putting him on the aisle. As she made herself relatively comfortable, pulling out her tablet to begin the decrypt on the data she had pulled from the safehouse, Lash eased into the aisle seat, eyes sharp as he slid them down the car to the end door and back.
Satisfied for the moment that their position was as defensible as they could make it considering the circumstances, he then drew his handgun. A quick check to make sure he had at least three quarters of a magazine to work with then he was safetying it with one in the chamber, tucking it into his waistband within easy reach before pulling his sweatshirt over it.
It wasn't long after that, that the car lurched into motion, announcing the train was leaving the station. Lash looked over at Truk and nodded as the nestari finished checking his own sidearm before tucking it under his leg within reach. As the train pulled out of the station and quickly accelerated to its cruising speed, Lash let his mind drift in an attempt to unpack and process a little of what had happened on this frantic and chaotic day filled with death and blood.
The Ventru had taken a series of blows this day. While the insertion into Ireland had been fairly routine, their muster in the hanger was ambushed. The company survived that, only to learn that the human familiars sent to guide them to Magnar's estate had been turned, their blood pumped full of rapid onset Ebola. Which meant the wounded from the ambush couldn't accelerate their healing with blood meals and had to limp on, relying on their native vampiric metabolisms to get them closer to combat ready before they actually got to the estate.
Which introduced their second challenge. With the presence of the ambush alerting them to the possibility of either a spy on the Van Tallert estate passing on their travel plans to the Hand. Or an enemy spy in their midst doing the same thing. Either way, they were forced to use technology to uncover the spy before a short interrogation yielded nothing and they spiked him to the ground without his EM shielding, solar radiation quickly turning his ultrasensitive nervous system into a blast furnace. Which, in turn, quickly converted the spy into ash, leaving the company warily carrying on, knowing there was a good chance the enemy now knew they were coming.
The battle at the estate was a disaster, to put it mildly. Originally thinking they'd easily be able to penetrate the estate during the day, with their EM shielding allowing them to move during the day, they found themselves facing not only daycloaked Hand operatives. But enhanced humans with advanced weapons and armor as well.
The Ventru managed to retrieve Magnar, but took heavy losses doing so. And, in the end, the vampire lord himself was booby trapped and ended up explosively dying before naming his captors, or those that betrayed him. Taking the data vault Magnar had buried in his leg as their own prize, the remaining members of the company tried to exfil back to their transports. Only to be ambushed again by the advanced humans, which Lash had begun calling 'White Flames' because of the stylized white flame symbol on the shoulder of their tactical uniforms.
Only Mordecai's timely intervention saved Lash and his diminished company from certain death and they used one of the psy-lord's tele-portals to retreat back to the hanger. From there they were able to evacuate the majority of the surviving team members while he, Truk, and Narcist decided to carry on into Galway in an attempt to retrieve the intelligence the spy in their midst had managed to gather.
That, of course, led to the brutal ambush at the bus depot by the White Flames. Which, in turn, pushed them to the safehouse where they were able to get in, neutralize the humans manning the post, and begin their retrieval of the security logs encrypted in the surveillance database.
Minutes into their effort to get the data, the White Flames again attacked, this time laying siege to the safehouse itself. More brutal combat followed, barely allowing the three Ventru to cut themselves free and make their way to the train station where they began effecting their own extraction to Dublin where Ventru assets would hopefully be available enough to get back to Belgium and Lady Van Tallert.
Lash let a quiet sigh ease free of his nostrils. The only good thing that had come out of all the chaos, besides Magnar's data vault and the retrieved security log from the safehouse, was confirming Magnar had remained loyal to the bitter end. That knowledge had lifted a great burden off both Lash's thoughts and his heart. The suspicion that his oldest friend and mentor in the Qos Viran had turned to become an enemy was a cancer that gnawed at his very soul. With the pain of that gone, he was now free and clear to devote the whole of his attention on the shadowy enemy behind the pogrom against the Ventru.
A glance at his watch revealed he had spent nearly an hour in reverie, lost in thought as he tried to make sense of the last twelve hours or so. He was about to ask for a status from a sleepy-looking Truk and a still-furiously-working Narcist when a movement from the front of the car caught his attention.
Sliding a hand across his torso to take hold of his sidearm, he watched as the doors into the car slid to the side to let a small party into the practically empty space. It took a single look to determine this group had no intention of stopping and sitting down in the comfortable, second class car, which suited him fine, the group as a whole moving quickly and efficiently down the generous aisle towards them and presumably into the next car along.
Then Lash spotted something that made him draw his weapon and flip the safety off. These people were moving too smoothly to be human. And they were covered from head to toe, their faces invisible behind some kind of veil. They weren't wearing daycloaks, but these people were vampires.
He was about to nudge a dozing Truk to alert him when a familiar scent reached his nose. It was subtle and powerful, making his entire body twitch. Again he made to turn to Narcist this time and ask her if she could smell what he was smelling. Except he found his body not responding. Then everything disappeared into a haze of red.
He floated for what felt like an eternity in the haze, unable to move, or force himself to full awareness. Then:
"... release you," a sensually soft female vampire's voice said, the words reverberating through his body like striking a gong.
Lash blinked and found himself staring at a lithe, yet fulsome vampiress with luxurious red hair, pale skin and brilliant green eyes, which made her otherworldly beauty that much more breathtaking. But, as he took in her beauty while she fastened the last ivory button to close her silky black blouse, it wasn't desire he felt.
It was rage.
She couldn't miss seeing the hard expression appear on his chiseled features, as she was still gazing steadfastly into his face as she spoke.
"And there you are, Ingamon Lash," she said, her vampiric carrying a light Irish accent as a sad smile touched her lips. "The fog can't even hold you with me in the same room." She paused there to look around them and quietly laughed. "Well, lavatory. Which has even closer proximity."
Those brilliant eyes came back to him to regard him even as he inwardly seethed despite still smelling the subtle but now identifiable scent of a lilith's powerful pheromone cloud..
"To say I was surprised to find an alpha prime on the train to Dublin is a vast understatement," she blithely went on as if she didn't notice his obvious anger. "Especially one so legendary, and sought after."
"You've put my team in danger, night mistress," he ground out, barely stifling the urge to reach out and strangle the beautiful vampiress to death with his massive, powerful hands.
"In danger?" she frowned. "The Qos Viran aren't currently running operations in Ireland. I know, because I checked before taking full control of you." Her expression became thoughtful. "As for your comrades, they're being warded by my M'tada. No enemy currently threatening Ventru will reach them."
Feeling a portion of his strength spent, it didn't take a genius to determine what she had taken control of him for. In fact, he could still taste her on his lips, a clean, fresh taste as flawless as the lilith in front of him was.
Then his attention was recaptured by the Irish lilith as she gracefully curtsied as best she could in the rather cramped lavatory.
"Thank you, Ingamon," she said rather formally as she straightened up. "I was in season, and desperate to strengthen my clan. You have saved me much discomfort while improving our genetic disposition by several orders of magnitude going forward. I am indebted to both you, and Ventru for this invaluable service."
In season. Hearing that, Lash felt his anger evaporate. Vampire females generally didn't breed, leaving such valuable tasks to fairly rare fertile breeders and incredibly rare liliths; vampire queens that possessed almost flawless gene lines passed down from the first vampires that separated themselves from common Humanity thousands of years ago.
For a lilith, being in season was almost as onerous as it was for lesser creatures. Her body literally demanded she find a suitable mate, and quickly, wracking her with pain every day past the onset of her season until she actually mated. And, if a suitable mate was nearby, her body would take over control from her conscious mind and extend her pheromone control to the targeted male, making him an unwilling participant in what should've been a consensual, and pleasurable exchange.
So this lilith hadn't had any choice in triggering their brief, but ultimately fruitful union. Her body took the control out of her hands and made it happen. In fact, there was a very good chance she had caught his scent in the train station and her body pushed her into following them on board to make that union happen. Especially if she was considering him an alpha prime, or the peak of vampiric masculine genetic perfection.
A quick sigh to strengthen his resolve, then he bowed as well as he could.
"You are welcome, night mistress," he replied, his head down. "Please forgive my earlier anger. There were things about this situation I was unaware of, and that ignorance allowed me to act poorly, and against the ancient laws."
Then a light hand under his chin was lifting his head back up. And before he could react, he found soft, hauntingly familiar lips on his to deliver a surprisingly deep and passionate kiss. The lilith's other hand quickly came up to capture his face between them, extending the kiss far beyond mere biological necessity.
Only after his heart began pounding hard in his chest and he felt true passion stirring in his blood, did she draw back, her brilliant green eyes as wide as they could go to drink in the sight of him.
"I didn't think it possible," she said in a hoarse whisper, her body pressed against his as her hands still held his face close to hers. "But your willing kiss is even sweeter than the one the fog demanded from you." Then she was kissing him again and he found his hands reaching out to begin undoing her recently closed buttons.
When his passion finally ebbed, he found their bodies still deliciously entangled as, her legs wrapped around him to keep her close with both of them standing, the lilith slowly licked their flavor off his lips.
"By the Night Father," he said, his voice the one now hoarse with the effects of their powerful second union.
"Yessss," she moaned before claiming another quick kiss. "So much more exquisite when you are willing, Ingamon." She leaned back to look into his face with hopeful eyes. "Where are you bound to in Dublin? Can you stay a few days? My clan has a safehouse near the castle."
Lash fought the impulse to groan in frustration, knowing he couldn't accept the invitation despite every fiber of his being wanting to.
"I cannot stay," he said, eliciting a soft 'No!' from the lilith. "My comrades and I must immediately return to Belgium with valuable intelligence won at great cost to help discover who is behind the pogrom against Ventru."
"Then let me accompany you," she said, quietly desperate to remain in his company. "My M'tada were trained by Lord Magnar himself! They will keep you safe."
Lash let a careful breath go, then shook his head.
"I cannot put a queen of my people in such danger," he said before gently disengaging from her body and easing her back down to the floor. "We are being pursued by agents of the Hand, and a complicit human faction with advanced technology and enhancements, and in complete awareness of the Children of the Night."
"All the more reason to accept the protection of my M'tada!" the lilith insisted, holding herself close. "I have over two dozen on the train, keeping guard ..."
Without warning, there was a light tap at the lavatory door. Instantly the lilith's face hardened into an angry mask.
"I left specific instructions that I wasn't to be disturbed, Colin," she snapped, her voice filled with cold rage.
"I beg your forgiveness, my queen," a male voice from the other side of the door said, sounding significantly agitated. "But we've lost contact with the rear guard. I think our position on the train has been compromised!"