“Tobe, get those .30-calibers out and set up, now!” Owen shouted.
“Yes, sir.”
“We’re going to need to give people time to get away. Tell everyone to keep the freighter between them and that incoming cutter. Let’s hide behind the freighter, use it to shield us from their radar. Then we can pop out and distract them if we have to,” Luke said.
“Roger that.” Owen began issuing orders on the pack’s radio frequency.
As people made it down their ladders onto their boats, the boats, which had been moving alongside the freighter until they needed to extract their crew, sheared away from the freighter, taking a southerly course. Owen kept the PT Boat steady alongside of the freighter, trying to keep the freighter’s bow wake from throwing them too far away and out into the open.
Luke kept scanning around. He heard some shouting from above. Looking up, he saw a head poking out from the side, peering down at the boat. Luke raised his shotgun and squeezed off a shot but missed as the vampire used its preternatural speed to pull back as soon as it saw Luke lifting his shotgun. The freighter plowed ahead on a general course to the mouth of the Columbia, no one at the helm, either running on automatic or its great bulk keeping it steady for now. Whoever was up on the deck must have alerted the cutter. They heard its klaxon calling everyone to stations.
“I think they’ve been alerted to our presence. Drift back. Let’s see what they’ll do,” Luke called out.
They didn’t have to wait long. Rising over the edge of the freighter and into the sky, the cutter’s HH-65 helicopter lifted into the air. It swooped toward the line of retreating fishing boats.
Owen’s head tracked the helicopter. “Well, shit. What do you recommend now, boss?”
Luke raised the binoculars and tracked the helicopter. He watched the side door slide open and a long, black barrel emerge from within. The sound of machine gun fire and the light of barrel flashes alerted them to the helicopter’s intent.
“They just fired on those boats…” Owen sounded stunned. As a fisher on the Pacific coast, he knew of more than a few people the Coast Guard had saved, including a few of his packmates.
Luke dropped the binoculars as the fishing boat caught fire. In the light of the flames, Luke saw bodies jumping into the ocean. Owen froze.
“Delilah, take that thing down!” Luke yelled.
Delilah pulled back on the hammer, cocking the twin .50-cal brownings. She swung the unit around, took aim, and fired off a burst of rounds before adjusting and firing again. Satisfied, she fired off a longer burst, zeroing in on the Coast Guard helicopter. The .50-caliber guns vibrated the wooden PT Boat as Delilah poured rounds into the night sky until she found her target, ripping it to shreds and sending it spiraling in flames down into the waves.
“Holy fuck, you just shot down a Coast Guard helicopter…” Owen said.
Luke yanked the radio out of Owen’s hand and keyed it in. “Everyone, pass out life jackets. Evasive maneuvers. That cutter is going to be going after everyone.”
Owen stared, wide eyed and open-mouthed. “Shot it down…”
Luke reached out and shook Owen’s shoulder. “Owen, you’ve got to pull it together. That wasn’t the Coast Guard, at least not the ones you know. They’re under the control of the vampires. They’d never fire on civilian boats like that. I need you to pilot this barge now.”
“Barge?!” Owen’s eyes focused on Luke, the insult pulling him out of his daze.
“Good. You can punch me when we get back to shore, but right now, I need you here. We need to distract that cutter before it fires on our friends. I want you to throttle up to about half speed and make toward the burning boat. We’ve got to get some life vests in the water in case they’re not wearing any. Also, it’ll give the cutter something to focus on.”
“Yeah, yeah. Got it. Tobias, get below and pull out some life vests. Pass them around to everyone, then get a few extras.” He reached down and shoved the throttle to the halfway mark.
The boat lurched forward, a thoroughbred released from its tether. Luke was nearly knocked to the ground by the sudden surge of power. He braced himself as Owen swung the boat toward the potential survivors. Tobias, staggering under the awkward load of life vests, shoved them at Luke before disappearing to grab more. Luke took them and walked to the rail.
“I see them up ahead. Slow down a bit. I don’t want to hit them,” Luke yelled.
Owen complied. As they got within throwing distance, Luke threw several life vests toward the cluster of people in the water as they passed. Luke spied another couple people treading water ahead. He threw a few more vests into the water as close as he could get them to the survivors. One of the fishing boats was swinging around, probably intending to rescue the people in the water.
“Owen, someone’s swinging around to come after the survivors!”
Owen looked over. “Fuck, it’s Lauren. Of course it is. Well, shit. We’d better keep that cutter busy because there’s no way she’s listening to me.”
“I didn’t think she would, not in a case like this. It’s probably for the best, though. This water’s too cold for prolonged exposure.” Luke settled into the cockpit next to Owen. “Swing this beast back around. Keep her pointed toward the shore. I want to get some space on that freighter. What do you know about this cutter?”
“It’s a Coast Guard cutter…”
“Is it big, old, new? Does it have one of those big deck guns?” Luke asked.
“Nah. Old. I think it can only handle about 20 knots. But it’s got some .50-cals and a cannon, maybe 25mm size.”
Luke pursed his lips. “Shit, that’ll tear through those fishing boats. What’s your armor like on this?”
Owen laughed. “Not a lot. These things were made for speed, not to take a beating.”
“Well, you’re faster. Let’s use that speed.”
Owen edged the speed up further. Despite being early spring, the Pacific Ocean was treating them kindly without a storm in the short-term forecast. The gentle seas allowed the PT Boat to maximize its big engines and design to its best affect, allowing it to nearly double the speed of the cutter, while keeping it more maneuverable than the Coast Guard ship which was nearly three times as long.
While Owen piloted the boat, Luke looked around, checking on the ship’s crew. Delilah, as focused as ever, stared in the distance toward the oncoming cutter, her guns trained on it. The rest of Owen’s people looked steady, save for the small signs Luke had seen thousands of times through the centuries—nervous shuffling, fingers tapping, and fidgeting, jerky neck motions as every sound or sight was tracked… Some turned back to the burning debris of the sinking ship or the downed helicopter, seeking a reminder of why they were about to open hostilities with the United States Coast Guard. They’d do their parts when the time came.
“Start edging it north,” Luke said. As they rounded the blind spot the freighter provided, they saw the cutter pulling a tight circle, trying to get turned around and ahead of the freighter.
Owen’s eyes narrowed. “What the hell. That doesn’t make any sense. They should have kept going straight and pulled around the back of the freighter. Who’s the moron who decided on that maneuver? They’ve spilled all their speed.”
“Well, like I said, even if it’s Coast Guard personnel at the helm, they’re being piloted by vamps, and clearly not a vamp with a good understanding of how to pilot a ship. Bring me up on her tail, but not too close,” Luke said.
Owen throttled down some and made the sweeping turn, carving a large S as he aligned his bow toward the tail of the cutter.
“Owen, this is good. Try to match her speed.” Luke raised his voice some. “Delilah, put a burst along her tail, please.”
She complied.
“Owen, you got a white flag we can run up?”
“Tobe, grab a pillowcase off one of the bunks.” The boy ran below deck and emerged with a pillowcase and a broom. He grabbed a roll of tape and affixed the pillowcase to the broom handle before handing it to Luke.
“Delilah, another burst please,” Luke called.
As the .50-caliber rounds thudded into the hull of the cutter, a spotlight swung around, finally finding the PT Boat. Luke waved the broom back and forth. Someone at the helm cut the speed. Owen matched his speed as the large boat moved forward in its lazy arc, spilling more speed. They saw shadows appear near the tail on the railing. Luke raised the binoculars to his eyes and mumbled, “Son of…”
Cassius stared back at him through his own set of binoculars.
“That PA speaker work?” Luke asked.
“Yeah, why?” Owen replied.
“Hand me the mic and switch on the PA, please.”
Owen handed him the mic and then flipped the switch to the speaker.
Cassius lifted a megaphone. “Lucius? How the hell do you always find your way into my plans? And where’d you dig up that old piece of shit?”
Luke pushed the button on the mic. “Cassius…”
Before Luke could finish his sentence, Delilah opened up her twin .50-caliber machine guns. Everyone on the deck of the cutter dove for cover. Luke reached over and pulled the wheel so the PT Boat pulled to the left, taking it out of the arc of Delilah’s machine guns. After a few seconds, she let off the trigger with an angry sounding grunt.
He let go of the mic button. “Damn it, Delilah. You can’t kill him with that thing. We’re trying to buy time,” Luke hissed just loud enough for Delilah to hear. He let go of the wheel. “Sorry about that, Owen. Figured that was the quickest way to stop her.”
“No, good thinking.”
Cassius popped his head over the railing to see if it was safe. He rested the megaphone’s rim on the edge, refusing to stand completely. “That wasn’t very nice. And under a flag of truce. I thought better of you, Lucius.”
“Unlike you, I don’t control the minds of my companions, or in your case, underlings. Some of them have righteous beefs with you.”
Cassius chuckled. “Ah, your little friend? She still mad about that thing with her father?”
Delilah let out a steady stream of curses, placing her hands on the rails around her turret and gripping them tightly to keep her hands from the temptation of the trigger. Owen looked amused at the entertainment unfolding around him.
“She’s going to kill you, you know.” Luke snorted at Cassius’s stupidity. Taunting Delilah was never a good idea.
“She wouldn’t be the first to try, but if she manages it, she’ll be the first to succeed. I don’t see that happening.”
“Where’d you get the cutter?” Luke asked.
“Took it. Where’d you get the antique?”
“Favor from a friend.”
Cassius stood, leaning on the railing with one arm as he returned the megaphone to his lips. “It suits you. An antique man wearing antique armor floating on a delicate little piece of antique plywood.”
“I don’t know why you’re making fun of antiques when you’re just as much of one.”
“Yeah, but I’ve moved on. Picked up new hobbies. Found new paths of fulfillment. You’re the one running around in a tin can, acting like an asshole. You should find a hobby or get a job. Maybe enroll in community college.”
Several of the werewolves standing at the various stations snorted.
“I hear companies are looking for truck drivers,” Cassius continued.
“It’s good, honest labor. Wouldn't be the first time I’ve done it,” Luke replied. “But honest labor isn’t something you and your kind are familiar with. Always the great exploiters.” Luke shook his head.
“Exploit this,” Cassius bit out.
Cassius was surrounded by activity as vampires began popping up, holding what looked like automatic weapons. A couple of them were attaching a much bigger machine gun to the railing.
“Owen, that’s our cue to get the fuck out of here. Back around the freighter. Open fire!” Luke yelled.
Owen’s other .50-cal turret opened fire as the smaller machine guns swung around to target the deck. A mix of .50-cal and .30-cal bullets zinged about the back of the cutter, sending vamps and their thralls scrambling and occasionally hitting one or two. Delilah was the only one who couldn’t bring her guns to bear, so she fired up at the railings of the freighter as vampire heads popped up to watch the goings-on down below. Her anger was rewarded when she caught a couple people in her sights, their heads exploding like melons meeting a sledgehammer.
“Grow that back, you fanged assholes,” Delilah shouted.
“Remind me never to cross her,” Owen said.
“Smart move,” Luke agreed, waiting for them to make the turn around the back of the freighter.
As the angles shifted, the gunners stopped firing one by one. Delilah, getting a chance to fire at Cassius one last time as her turret came back into the right angle, fired off a steady burst until she too lost sight of the cutter as they pulled fully behind the freighter.
They’d bought some time for their flotilla, but Luke wanted more. Even more than time, though, Luke needed to stop the pursuit entirely, or Cassius would chase them down and destroy their fishing boats.
Luke’s eyes flicked toward the torpedo strapped to the deck of the PT Boat, a vicious grin spreading across his face. “I think we’ll need to borrow a torpedo or two.”
“You going to swim out and get them back?” Owen asked. “With all the rounds we’ve fired off and now my torpedoes, you’re going to owe me a pretty penny.”
“I’m good for it.”
“Good. Don’t suppose you know your way around a torpedo, do ya?”
“No. I can load and fire an eighteen-pound cannonade, if that helps.” Luke shrugged.
Owen shook his head. “It doesn’t.”
“Last boat I was on with a torpedo tube was a confiscated German U-boat during the Great War, and I was just a passenger.”
“Tobe, get your butt up here,” Owen called.
Tobias left his gun station and joined his uncle in the cockpit.
“Take the wheel. We’re going to make a torpedo run on that cutter. You remember what to do?”
Tobias nodded nervously. “Yes, sir.”
“Good. I want you to swing out more to the southeast. We need more distance when we come around the freighter and make our run, OK?” Owen didn’t wait for the answer. He was already heading toward the port torpedo strapped to the front third of the boat. As he leaned out over the torpedo, the wind picked up the hair of his long ponytail, streaming it out behind him. “OK, take her on a northeasterly heading now.”
“Yes, sir.” Tobias banked the fast-moving torpedo boat to the left and adjusted his course to meet his uncle’s orders.
The cutter had finally made its turn and was coming around, trying to resume its pursuit of the fishing boats.
Luke shouted over the noise of the engine and hull slapping over the waves, “Forward guns, short bursts along the rails and superstructure! Let’s remind them of their mortality.”
The twin .50-cal turrets opened up, as did the .30-cal on the nose stand. They swept the deck, working in short, controlled bursts. Delilah focused on the superstructure, probably hoping to put a half inch bullet or twenty into Cassius. Even if she couldn’t kill him, she could hurt him. Despite her anger, she still followed orders and kept her bursts short and strategically aimed.
Owen relayed hand signals to Tobias, directing him to adjust their course to the left or right so he could line up his shot. Judging the distance right, he armed the torpedo and yanked the release, letting the torpedo flop into the water where it took off in a sizzling line toward the cutter.
“Bring ‘er around to the port side, Tobe,” Owen shouted as he walked toward the cockpit. “Put us back behind that freighter.”
The gunners kept up their short bursts just to be cautious. Everyone else stood, watching the line in the water work its way toward the bright white cutter with its orange diagonal stripe. Luke raised the binoculars he’d been using and watched the deck of the cutter. Finally, a few people standing near the rail noticed the torpedo speeding toward their hull. They waved and shouted frantically, pointing toward the water, but it was too late. The boat tried swinging away from the torpedo but ended up providing a better target.
The torpedo exploded into the side of the cutter, sending up a column of water and smoke. The explosion reverberated over the vessel, sending shivers over its frame as if a giant placed a fist around each side of it and shook it before placing it back in the water. They watched the cutter list to the side as it took on water until Tobias yanked the wheel hard, knocking several people off balance. The clack of small arms fire alerted them to a new danger. The gunners on the port side of Owen’s boat began working the decks of the freighter, trying to keep the vampires from getting easy shots at the PT Boat and its crew and passengers. Tobias edged the throttle up and started arcing away from the freighter.
“Swing us back around! We’re moving out of range. Swing us around the tail,” Luke called, frantically reaching into his pocket to grab the detonation remote.
Tobias looked at Owen, “Uncle?”
“Listen to him, Tobe.”
Luke fished the detonator out of the pocket of his hoodie. He rotated the switch, arming it. The light switched from red to green, indicating it was armed. He held his breath and depressed the button. Nothing. He waited a few more seconds and gave it another push. Still nothing.
“Tobe, give us a bit of a zig zag. Let’s not make it easy on them,” Owen ordered.
The gunners were alert, waiting to fire if needed. Luke was getting concerned about the remaining ammo. They’d been shooting a lot. They were practically on top of the freighter when Luke’s button-pushing got a result. The muffled sounds of deep thumps rocked the freighter. What they hadn’t expected was what happened next. The superstructure vaporized into a huge plume of flames as the diesel ignited, exploding in the tanks. The shock wave knocked several people over and shoved the PT Boat sideways, rocking it hard to its port side.
“Shit, give me the wheel, Tobe.” Owen slid behind the wheel and brought it around hard, so they turned away from the flaming freighter. “Uh, how many billions of dollars have you just sent to the bottom of the Pacific?”
“A fair few, I’d imagine,” Luke replied, half-distracted watching vampires jump into the water to avoid the growing conflagration on the deck of the freighter. The ship still appeared to be coasting forward and hadn’t started listing. “How do you feel about one more torpedo run? There are still several hundred vampires on that ship. We didn’t kill as many as we needed to.”
“Fuck it, why not?” Owen appeared to be trying to rationalize the wanton destruction he’d just participated in. “Might as well make a thorough job of it…”
Luke pointed toward the rear of the freighter. “Let’s see if we can put it on the back corner. If we damage the roll-on ramp, that might help flood it a little quicker.”
“Hey, Luke. Will vampires survive underwater?” Delilah asked.
“I don’t know. They’re not terribly buoyant. Plus cadaver, be it ambulatory or not, is a favorite food for a lot of things in the ocean. Even if they survived, it’s a long walk to shore through miles of things that’ll look at them as free food. How deep is the Pacific here, Owen?”
“This far out, about a mile and half or so. We’re past the continental slope,” Owen replied.
“I don’t know if that depth will crush a vampire, but I don’t imagine anything going into the water will be coming up anytime soon.”
Delilah had a wicked grin on her face. “Good.” She sat back in her turret and watched the vampires fall into the ocean trying to avoid the flames of the freighter.
Owen got the PT Boat into position for its torpedo run. Before he handed the wheel over to his nephew, he throttled down to about ten knots. “We don’t need to evade fire at this point. Might as well not waste my last torpedo trying to be fancy.”
He went to the one remaining torpedo and repeated the process from earlier, giving Tobias hand signals to help him align their shot. Satisfied, he yanked the lever that released the torpedo into the water. “Tobe, throttle it back to zero. I want to watch this one.”
Owen pulled out his own set of binoculars and watched the white snake flying through the water toward the rear of the freighter. Everyone stood to get the best angle and waited on bated breath, counting the seconds of what felt like an ever-expanding clock. Finally, the torpedo hit home, plunging into the back of the freighter. The sound rocked them back as water and smoke spouted into the air. Drops, riding the shockwaves, sprinkled them. The sides of the hull rippled out from the explosion, sending the freighter forward and bucking the back nearly out of the water. The long ramp the freighter used to load or off-load all the trucks and cars below decks quivered and groaned. The stress of metal bending and breaking was followed by the ramp slowly falling to one side, dragging into the water, and pulling the back of the freighter down. They could see the turbulence of the water rushing into the back of the ship, filling the lower levels.
“And you got all the humans and werewolves off, right?” Owen asked.
Luke snorted. “Little late for that, but yeah, we were thorough.”
Owen gave one last look toward the freighter, gently moved his nephew to the side, and throttled up the PT Boat. “Let’s go find your mom.”
He selected a more sedate speed to conserve their fuel reserves. As they rounded the side of the freighter, now listing hard to the tail and lifting the bow out of the water, they saw the cutter flop over and disappear below the surface. A couple lifeboats were floating away from the cutter.
Owen looked over at Luke. “Do we go after them?”
Both boats were motoring away from the freighter. Although they’d originated from the cutter, they were going in virtually opposite directions.
“How much ammo do you have left?” Luke asked, staring after the boats.
“Tobe, go check, please.”
“I can already tell you there’s nothing below deck, but I’ll check the guns.” Tobias walked from gun station to gun station, popping open the belt containers feeding each of the guns. “Maybe seventy to eighty rounds total.”
Luke took a moment to think. “No. That might not do it. Also, the way they’re acting, one of those boats is probably the human crew. Right now, they’re probably coming out of whatever glamour the vamps had them under, and they’re concentrating really hard on getting away from them. Let’s slip away. You live to fight another day, Cassius.”
Owen nodded and steered them away from the lifeboats and into the darkness shrouding the fleet of fishing vessels. Eventually, he looked over at Luke, catching eye contact. “By the way, what did that guy call you? Loo-keye-oos?”
“Lucius. Yeah, that was my name when we knew each other, back when I only had the name my mother gave me at birth…”
* * *
After the all the boats were gathered, and Owen got the all clear from Lauren that the survivors were picked up, the flotilla put on some extra speed to gain more distance between themselves and the fleeing vampires while the PT Boat served as a rearguard. Once they felt comfortable, they slowed down and spread around the last of the extra diesel until they met up with the boats heading out to meet them with extra fuel.
While they paused in the middle of the ocean to spread around the spare fuel to the boats that needed it, Maggie, who’d been on the fuel boats sent to meet the fleet, checked in with the various crews, attending to the injured from the boat the Coast Guard helicopter had sunk, packmates who’d taken injuries on the freighter, and the rescued hostages. As Maggie attended to the injured, the fleet drained the barrels the relief boats had brought and readied to split the fleet so they could return to their various ports, avoiding Astoria and further Coast Guard involvement. Maggie’s last stop was the PT Boat.
Luke, offering her a hand to help her across the boats bobbing up and down in the ocean swell, guided her safely to the deck. When her feet were stable, she squeezed Luke’s hand affectionately then let it go.
“I hear you got shot in butt,” Maggie said.
Luke huffed and sighed. “I didn’t get shot in the butt. It just grazed the cheek.”
“I’d still like to inspect it.”
“It’s a good-looking butt,” Pablo joked. He’d rejoined Luke and Delilah on the PT Boat, jumping on board after Maggie made it across.
She blushed. “I mean the wound. I’d like to inspect the wound.”
Pablo laughed as Maggie’s blush deepened.
“Is the cabin available?” she asked.
Owen did a head count. “All clear. Everyone’s on deck. You can use my cabin. It’s first on the left.”
Maggie nodded at Owen, then extended her hand out, indicating Luke should lead the way. Despite the wound being superficial, he limped a bit. Without the adrenaline of battle and being fairly sedentary on the boat chugging its way across the cold Pacific Ocean, the wound had stiffened up. His lower back and neck were sore from constantly favoring the opposite leg. Despite his best effort to hide the limp, he knew Maggie’s trained eyes would suss out the nature of his injuries.
Once they shut the door to the stairs leading below decks, Maggie said, “Luke, you can quit holding back now that no one can see you.”
He nodded and relaxed his muscles, allowing the limp to show. “Alright, Maggie.” He no longer thought of her as the pack doctor, but as a friend.
Assuming the position, he unbuckled his belt and dropped his pants just past his butt and bent over, trying his best to keep the front covered.
“It’ll probably be best if you lay out on the bed so your muscles are relaxed.”
He followed her directions as she pulled a chair from under Owen’s desk and slid it next to the bed.
“OK, I’m about to pull the bandage.”
He braced himself but still grunted as she pulled it off. He wasn’t a terribly hairy man, but he still had enough to make the bandage removal sting.
“Have you changed this bandage?”
“No, I didn’t want to bother anyone with it.” He turned his head and saw her furrowed brow and concerned expression.
“It looks like a couple of the butterfly bandages pulled loose. This is a bit deeper than a graze. Couldn’t you find a vampire to heal you?”
“No, we were going hot and heavy after this happened. I didn’t take time and there weren’t many available. The team was pretty thorough putting them down for their final sleep.”
“Hmm,” she said as she pulled the butterfly bandages off. “I’m going to clean this again and give you a few stitches.”
She bent over and rustled around in the medical kit she’d brought with her, pulling out disinfectant and the supplies she needed to stitch him up. Reaching out, she grabbed a lamp attached to the wall on an extendible arm and swung it toward Luke’s butt. She flipped the switch and adjusted the aim until she had light where she wanted it. Once she was set, she sanitized her hands with disinfectant and pulled gloves on.
“This might sting,” Maggie said before cleaning the wound.
It did. Luke tried to keep from clenching the muscles of his butt but didn’t succeed, allowing them to relax once he got used to it.
“What’s this?” Maggie mumbled. She reached up and adjusted the light again. “Hmm, this could be causing your problems. Looks like some shrapnel’s stuck here.”
She grabbed a set of forceps from her kit. Her hand on Luke’s butt, fingers and thumb around his wound, she held it stable. He felt the twinges as she pulled out a couple pieces followed by the sting of whatever she was using to clean his wound. She pulled out another piece, then set her forceps down. A few more seconds and she had him stitched up. She coated the wound with disinfectant gel and covered it with a fresh bandage.
“There you go. Once you get home, be sure to keep it clean. Normally, for a human patient, I’d recommend getting a tetanus shot booster if it’s been a while, but I’m still not one hundred percent sure how your whole deal works, medically speaking.”
“I haven’t had one since I was conscripted by the Brits during World War II.”
“How’d they track you down? I’d figure you’d be good at avoiding governments,” Maggie replied.
“Can I pull up my pants, Maggie?” Luke asked. “It’s kind of chilly in here with my bum hanging out.”
“Sure. But I’d recommend lying there for a bit longer. Stay off your butt as much as you can.”
Luke pulled up his pants. “I’d dropped off the grid after the Great War, living in Paris mostly. I snuck out of France just before the Nazis consolidated their position. When the boat I was on was stopped by a British Destroyer, they took my information. It must have tripped something at MI6. They rounded me up, enlisted me, and sent me over to SOE.”
“SOE?” Maggie asked.
“Sorry, acronyms. Governments and militaries love them. Special Operations Executive. Basically espionage and sabotage. I speak all the pertinent languages, so they kept me busy. I spent most of the war on the continent coordinating with various resistance forces and sabotaging the Nazis. After we liberated the camps and the Germans surrendered, I quit and went underground. I was done serving governments and their wars. I had no interest in becoming involved with the coming feud with the Soviets.”
When Luke mentioned “camps,” Maggie’s right hand drifted toward her left forearm. Luke clenched his jaw, the pieces falling together. Rabinowitz was a relatively common Jewish surname in Poland. She was old enough to be on the council, and that meant she was old enough to have been alive during WWII. She’d probably spent time in Auschwitz where the forearm tattoo was common. Come to think of it, he’d never seen her in short sleeves. Maggie must have caught his eyes and the understanding in them, her gaze locked with his.
“Maggie…”
“It’s OK, Luke.”
She looked flushed, her eyes watery. Luke reached over and grabbed her hand, squeezing gently. He rolled over and sat on the edge of the bed, hissing as the pressure settled on his wound. He took her hand again.
“Do…do you need a hug?” Luke asked.
She nodded. He pulled her in, wrapping his arms around her. She rested her head on his shoulder and slipped her arms around his waist. Rubbing her back gently, they sat together in silence. Often focused on his own tunnel vision of trauma, the horrific snippet of Maggie’s past reminded him how much some of the werewolves he’d met had lived through. Luke, his freshly stitched butt getting uncomfortable, shifted in his seat some, letting out a small grunt of discomfort.
“Your butt?” Maggie asked.
“Yeah,” Luke replied.
Pushing back, Maggie gave Luke a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks, Luke. Stay off your butt as much as you can.”
“I’ll try.”
Maggie stood up and half turned before grabbing his hand and giving it a squeeze. She walked out the door and shut it behind her. Deciding to follow the doctor’s orders, Luke stretched out on his stomach, fluffed Owen’s pillow, and took a nap.