Luke had been largely ignoring the texts from Pablo and Delilah inquiring about his whereabouts. All they knew was he was preparing training sessions, beyond that, he’d simply replied they should wait and see. Well, the wait was over and it was now time to see what he’d been up to with Sam and Pieter.
When the time came, he sent out a simple text, Alert everyone going on the mission: Meet at the farm, bring several days’ change of clothing, some workout clothes & hiking boots, and all their trip kits for the boats. We’ll be heading to the coast from here.
Luke had enjoyed the secret and keeping his friends in the dark. After all the times they’d surprised him, he owed them one, at least a small innocuous one. When they finally arrived at the farm, Luke, Sam, and Pieter met them and the rest of the invitees out front.
“Sorry about the quiet. I just wanted to have this set up, and it was a lot of late nights to get it done. Why don’t you get situated in your rooms and meet back here in twenty minutes? Sam’s affixed your names to your room assignments.”
As their people headed toward the main house, they chatted enthusiastically with each other trying to figure out if one of them had more information than anyone else. Over the next twenty minutes, they trickled back into the yard in their workout clothes, ready to see what the surprise was.
Luke looked over the people assembled before him, all werewolves except for Delilah. “Most of y’all know each other, but let’s do introductions and include any military service and experience with firearms. Pieter, why don’t you start.”
“Hello. My name is Pieter van den Bergh, werewolf from the Flanders Pack. My most recent military service was with Belgian special forces in the 1970s, Captain Retired.”
“Sam Wakamatsu, Onna-Bugeisha serving at the battle of Wakamatsu Castle against the Meiji forces. Werewolf, North Portland Pack. Knowledgeable about the basic use of handguns and rifles.”
“Delilah Johnson. Human. No military service. I’ve used handguns before.”
“You forgot kickass vampire slayer,” Sam added.
Delilah nodded her appreciation at Sam. “And kickass vampire slayer.”
Archie stepped forward. “Archibald Hampton, 6th Royal Tank Regiment, 1939 to 1946. Fought in North Africa, Italy, Normandy, and Germany.”
“Tanker?” Luke asked, impressed. The tank battles in North Africa had been particularly brutal between the Nazis and the British, especially with Germany fielding the superior armored units against the under-equipped Brits.
“Yes, sir. Driver. Mk Is, Churchills, and Cromwells. Even had a spin in a Sherman.”
“I’ll have to see if we can find a tank for you to drive,” Luke said, his tone deadpan. He enjoyed the looks on everyone’s face. They didn’t know him well enough to know if he was joking or not. And if push came to shove, he could lay his hands on a few tanks.
“Jung-sook?” Luke waved the Korean woman forward.
“Jung-sook Kim, Republic of Korea Army, infantry 1964 to 1971.”
They went down the line. Most of the people had served in peace time, a few during WWII, and one in France in WWI. Only Pablo and Delilah had no military experience, but Luke wouldn’t leave them out of a mission. They were the most experienced vampire fighters besides himself. Sam had advised him to go last, expanding on his experience where most had been fairly succinct with their pasts. Many of the people here hadn’t really worked with Luke much if at all, and few knew more than rumors. Sam wanted him to establish his authority as a soldier, vampire hunter, and their leader.
“Luke Irontree. I joined the legions of Rome in 103 of the common era, joining the XXX Ulpia Victrix and fought in the Trajan’s second Dacian War, promoted to Optio by 107. Basically, a lieutenant. Transferred at the emperor’s direct request to I Adiutrix to create an elite cohort. Fought in Trajan’s Parthian War. Killed my first vampire in 117 in the mountains of Armenia.”
Murmurs rose as the dates Luke had mentioned sank in, people looking at their neighbors in surprise as they leaned over and whispered.
“That’s enough, gang. Please give Luke your attention,” Sam said, her voice raised.
Luke nodded his thanks to Sam. “After that, I was given authority under Hadrian to form my own elite legion, the I Aelia. We were referred to as “The Black Legion” because of the colors I chose. We were tasked with guarding the empire from vampires. I protected the borders of the empire until 332 when Constantine expelled me from the empire at the end of his Gothic campaign and my memory and that of the Black Legion were erased from the empire.”
He paused for a moment, the memory of expulsion still brought up bitter feelings after all this time. “More recently, I served in Belgium and France with the British Expeditionary Forces from 1915 to 918 and the Special Operations Executive from 1940 to 1945, most of that spent in occupied Europe. I’ve fought vampires for nineteen hundred years, sometimes under a uniform and banner, but most the time by myself.”
He looked from face to face, giving each person a small smile. “Some of you have been assisting me in my mission for the last few months. Others of you are new to it. But as of now, we’re all one team with a common cause—protect our city and our friends and family. We’re all vampire slayers now. Together, we can protect each other and come out the other side on top. Now, I’m sure you’re tired of listening to me, so let’s get to it.”
Luke walked over to a couple long tables he’d set up near the edge of the woods. Ensuring everyone was with him and he had their attention, he pulled the cloth off the table, revealing a row of shotguns. He picked one up, and a small wave of queasiness settled in his stomach.
“This is the Winchester model 1912 trench gun edition. It’ll hold six 12-gauge shells. It’s outfitted with a heat shield on its twenty-inch barrel.” He lifted the gun, displaying the metal shield with holes surrounding the barrel. His hand drifted up. “It also has a bayonet lug and convenient swivels for a strap for ease of carrying. And my favorite feature…”
He slid the ear protectors over his ears. Everyone picked up a set and followed suit. Luke raised the shotgun to his shoulder, took aim, pulled the trigger, then emptied the magazine. Only having pulled trigger once, he fired the trench gun by pumping the pump action—each pump firing a shell and discharging the empty from its ejection port. When the last shell dropped to the ground, Luke removed his ear protection. The team pulled theirs off as well.
“Some of you may have used these or similar weapons at various points. They put a lot of firepower into a tight space. You pull the trigger once and just pump. They worked wonders clearing trenches once we got that far.” Luke shuddered at the memory, his chest tightening a little. “They also can vaporize vampires when you replace the standard shot with wood and silver. I’ve currently got some of the pack hand-producing special shells for us. Unfortunately, I don’t have any of those on hand, so right now, we’ll use standard shot for live fire practice.”
“That’s an ideal weapon for a tight space where noise won’t be an issue,” Pablo commented.
“I had the same thought myself,” Luke replied. They would have been handy during his little solo adventure, but unfortunately, he didn’t have any available. “I’ve been acquiring as many of these as possible. They’ve been out of production for fifty years, but they were manufactured for a long time so I’ve been able to get a few pretty quickly. Well, at least enough to train a few elites to lead the teams. I’ve also got parts coming in case they need repairs and for the future. We’ve set up a basic course to run you through. First, individually to get used to the conditions, then in twos. I’ll want at least two people with shotguns in each group—that way one can fire while the other reloads and we can put constant fire power out if we need to.”
Luke walked them through the course, complete with stand-ins roughly constructed out of a couple boards nailed to a frame and base. The walls of the gauntlet he’d created were similarly crude.
Luke gestured toward the mess of plywood and two-by-fours. “Sorry for the lack of finish on the dummies and the walls, but we had a limited amount of time.”
“It’ll do, mate, it’ll do.” Archie, the reserved Brit and WWII vet, patted him on the shoulder.
“Pieter, would you mind taking everyone to work through some basics on the guns to familiarize the more experienced shooters, then start running them through the course?” Luke suggested.
Pieter’s recent service in the special forces had been put to use training his packmates back home, which made him an ideal choice to help with the crew.
“I’ll take Delilah and Pablo and run them through the basics. Sound good?”
Pieter brought his hand to his forehead in a salute. “Aye, Luke.” He gestured for his trainees to follow him. “Leave the shotguns for now. Let’s just take a dry run through the course.”
“Delilah, Pablo, select a shotgun.”
Each selected one by whatever criteria they had.
“Have either of you used a shotgun before?” Luke asked.
“It’s been a long time,” Pablo replied, “I’ve been hunting with a double barrel, but that was for food, ducks and birds and rabbits.”
Luke nodded. “Were you any good?”
Pablo grabbed his stomach and gave it a little shake. “Didn’t go hungry. But it’s been a while.”
“Delilah?”
“No. I’ve gone to a gun range and shot handguns before, but never a shotgun.”
“OK.” Luke picked up a shotgun off the table. “This is the safety. In this position, it’s engaged. We’ll want to leave it engaged for loading practice. I’ve got some blank shells to practice with. Might as well be extra safe.” Luke flipped the gun over and slipped a shell into the entry port. “That’s where the shells go. Six is the capacity.”
Delilah and Pablo began sliding shells into their shotguns. After a few, Pablo’s all shot back out the entry port. Delilah laughed at his mishap just before shells plopped out of her shotgun’s magazine.
“Ha! That’s what you get for laughing at me.”
Luke smiled at his friends. “You have to make sure the action slide catches the shell before you let go.” He demonstrated the motion they needed to imitate to get the shells smoothly into the magazine and how to safely unload it. “You two work on that for a bit. I want to check on Pieter.”
As Luke walked up to the entrance of the obstacle course, Pieter was walking out with his group. Luke raised his hand in greeting as Pieter changed directions to intercept him.
Luke stopped as Pieter walked up. “How’s it look, Pieter?”
“It’s a good approximation. It’ll certainly be better than going in blind. I’ll run them all through with the M12s.” Pieter ran a hand through his gray-streaked blond hair.
“Good. I’m going to take Delilah and Pablo over to the range to fire some live rounds.”
“Are you sure Pablo and Delilah are up to the task? Everyone else here has military training, some seeing combat,” Pieter asked in Flemish Dutch.
“Oh, they’ve seen heavy fighting with vampires. There are no two people I’d trust at my back more than them. They’ve seen more vampire combat than anyone here other than me and maybe you. They’re quick students and know how to work with me. They’ll be fine,” Luke replied in English.
Pieter gave Luke a respectful nod and rejoined his team at the shotgun table. Luke followed him over to collect Pablo and Delilah. Bending over, he opened a large crate filled with belts lined in shotgun shells. He held one up and got everyone’s attention.
“OK, people. These are just loaded with standard buckshot. I’m still having the anti-vamp shells loaded. Once we get a few to spare, we’ll compare effective ranges. Just know for now, the standard shells will probably have a longer effective range, but you won’t really need to be worrying about distance shots with these training conditions or on our mission. We have plenty of shells, so don’t feel you need to be parsimonious. I’d rather buy more rounds and have you well trained than the other way around.”
They all nodded and lined up to get their own belts. Luke pulled out two more, one each for Pablo and Delilah, and beckoned for them to follow him over to the shooting range while the others returned to the gauntlet Luke had set up. Once at the shooting range, Luke handed them their belts, and they put them on.
“OK, load up. Make sure your safety is engaged.” He noticed that neither of them had brought their ear protection. “I’ll go grab the earmuffs.” Luke jogged over, grabbed three, and jogged back.
They turned their heads toward the gauntlet as the first shotgun blasts rent the silence of the forest. Luke flinched each time a shot rang out. Taking a moment, he tried to breathe through it and put the sound to the back of his mind.
Earmuffs secure, Pablo and Delilah took aim. Pablo’s grip looked good, his past use coming back to him. Delilah, on the other hand, looked a bit nervous. Luke halted her before she could fire.
“You need the butt resting firmly against your shoulder. If you hold it away, it’s going to recoil and you’ll get a nasty bruise.” He pulled his shotgun into his shoulder, showing her how to properly set hers. “Also, rest your finger against the trigger guard or the body of the gun. You don’t want it near the trigger until you’re ready to shoot. Don’t worry about being fast or accurate. Just worry about holding it correct and steady. Also, safety. Always practice safe techniques.”
Running through everything Luke had told her, Delilah situated the shotgun and held it like he’d showed her. Eventually, she took aim downrange and squeezed the trigger. Nothing happened.
“Safety off, and load one into the chamber.”
She clicked the safety and pumped a shell into the firing chamber before squeezing off her first shot. It blasted up a puff of dirt about ten feet in front of the target. Pablo was having better luck—each shot getting closer to the target as he got used to the weight of the gun and how it shot. Delilah’s next shot also thudded into the ground short of the target.
“Delilah, you’re closing your eyes and letting the barrel dip.”
She nodded back and corrected herself, this time hitting the bottom of the target. The next several shots shredded various edges of the paper target pinned to the poles. Pablo, now on his second load, was consistently hitting around the bullseye. Before he could start up again, Luke signaled for him to hold on. Delilah finished her last shot, and Luke caught her attention as well.
“Looks like your skills are coming back pretty quickly, Pablo. Nice shooting. Why don’t you practice slam firing? On your first shot, just hold down the trigger and use the pump to fire. Go slow at first. Delilah, How you doing? Any questions?”
“I don’t think so. I think I got it.”
Luke smiled at them. “Just take your time and concentrate. Speed will come with familiarity.”
She nodded and grabbed some more shells. Her nimble fingers made quick work of it. A few seconds later, she was blasting away at the target, this time more confidently. After a few more rounds of reloads, she said, “This is kind of fun.”
“Fun?”
At the tone of his voice, she turned and recoiled a bit. He tried to control the sour expression on his face but was struggling as old feelings threatened to overwhelm him.
Luke’s heart rate slid upward. “Guns are a tool that serve only one purpose—killing. The reason we’re doing this is to ensure the people killed aren’t our friends.”
Delilah’s eyes widened, and her jaw dropped slightly. She let out a low gasp.
Pablo, who’d stopped shooting, turned around to address Luke. “Lighten up a bit, dude. This is dark enough business as is. Let her find some joy where she can. It won’t lessen her diligence or our task.”
Luke took in a slow, deep breath, and released it. “Delilah, I’m sorry. Pablo’s right. It’s just…” He lifted his M12 a bit. “I’ve used a gun just like this and killed men. Germans who didn’t want to be in that trench any more than the British I was leading—all because a Serbian revolutionary killed an Austrian Archduke. Using a shotgun in a trench is personal. It’s often not a fast death. You see their eyes. When I use my swords or a knife, I can end it quick. Buck shot at range, if you don’t hit the heart, brain, or an artery, it can take time for them to bleed out. It’s not a pleasant thing to witness, to cause. The acrid reek of gunpowder. The stench of fetid water, blood, shit…” Luke’s complexion was dipping toward the pasty, a sheen of sweat breaking out on his face. His breath raced shallowly in and out of his mouth until he couldn’t speak anymore. He stumbled over to a bush, bent over, and heaved out his breakfast.
Pablo set his shotgun down on the table they’d been standing behind, jogged back to the supply crates, and opened a cooler, pulling out a bottle of water, and ran over to Luke. Delilah stared at Luke, jaw open, sympathy pouring out of her eyes as well as a few tears. Luke was still bending over, one hand on a knee, while the shotgun in his other hand rested against his other knee. Pablo rubbed Luke’s back, speaking in a voice that only Luke could hear.
“You got yourself worked up a bit there, buddy. It’s OK. Delilah and I are here for you.” He moved his hand off Luke’s back to pop the top off the water bottle. “Here, rinse out your mouth and take a little walk. I’ll work with Delilah on her aim. OK?”
“OK.” Luke took the bottle of water, rinsed out his mouth and spat it into the bush. He walked away from both the range and gauntlet to collect himself.
Pablo walked back to Delilah. They started speaking, thinking he couldn’t hear them with the earmuffs on, except his only blocked high decibel sounds, letting regular noise in.
“Looks like our boy is still suffering from shell shock, probably untreated,” Pablo said.
“Shell shock?”
“Yeah, it’s what they called PTSD during World War I.”
“Ah,” Delilah replied.
“Let’s practice some more while he collects himself.”
“Is he going to be OK?” Delilah asked.
Pablo rocked his hand back and forth. “For Luke. I mean, how OK is he really? He’s doing better than when we first met him, but…”
“Yeah, he seems a bit more lighthearted, but that’s not a high bar for him. His eyes, if he’s not paying attention to someone he’s talking to, always seem so forlorn.”
Pablo nodded at Delilah’s assessment, a curious look on his face. “Yeah, I think we’ve pulled him out of the deepest pit he was in before we brightened his shores, but he’s a long way from healthy. I’ll speak with Doc, maybe one of the pack shrinks can help him out. I doubt a regular talk doc is up to handling the problems of two-thousand-year-old immortal vampire slayer with too much trauma in his life. A werewolf might be a better choice.”
“I’m not sure he’ll take that suggestion, but he always manages to surprise me.”
“That he does. Shall we?” He indicated the table with their shotguns resting on them.
They returned to loading and firing their guns, both of them quicker and more accurate as the day went on. Luke eventually rejoined them and fired off several loads himself.
They were right. Their friendship had gone a long way toward helping him. But he needed something more. When this was done, he’d call the number Gwen’s therapist had given him. For now, he’d have to collect himself and get him and his friends through this complex operation. He didn’t speak to them until he called a quits for an early afternoon break.
Luke sighed, placing his hand on Delilah’s shoulder. “Delilah, I just want to apologize again. That was uncalled for, and I’m sorry.”
“It’s OK. I sometimes forget that wagon you’re draggin’ has a lot of baggage in it. Apology accepted.”
Luke smiled at her softly, his eyes glowing warmly but sadly at her. “Thank you.”
“Team hug!” Pablo gathered them both in his arms, both Delilah and Luke towering over him by a good half foot as they returned his hug. “How about a lunch break? Tony and Sam are whipping up some ramen for lunch. You’re in for a treat.”
“Speaking of Sam and Tony, why aren’t they out here?” Delilah asked.
“They have both declined for various reasons. Sam will join us, of course, but we’re working on something besides shotguns for her. Tony…” Luke said.
“Tony,” Pablo supplied, “is on the pack council now. He’s picking up a lot of the slack since me, Sam, and Holly have been so busy with other things. He and Jamaal will run things while the rest of the pack is out of town.”
“Ah… Wait,” Delilah said. “Does that mean Tony was in the military?”
“Yup. He was a very handsome flyboy during WWII. If you’re nice to me, I’ll show you some pictures of him with his P-51 Mustang.”
Luke chuckled. Pablo’s joking helped clear the fog of the earlier incident. He really did appreciate Pablo’s ability to make him feel better through humor. Without Pablo’s joviality and friendship, he had no idea where he’d be emotionally, but it would be without one of the best people he’d met in ages.