MisStaked (35 page)

"How long have I been out?” Breathred asked, lifting himself up to a semi-sitting position.

"Here let me help you up, Big Guy.” Stud slipped his arms around Breathred and pulled him up to a sitting position.

"How long was I out for?” Breathred asked again.

"Not long, twenty minutes at the most,” Dr. Grayson said.

"Seemed like longer,” Breathred mumbled, then he tried to jump to his feet, but Stud put his hand on his shoulder slamming him back to the wet ground. “The tomb! Has anyone gone into the tomb?"

"No. After what happened to you, I thought it best to proceed cautiously. Until we're sure the tomb is safe, no one gets in,” Dr. Grayson stated. Stud thought a better idea was to blow the damn thing shut again, but nobody asked him.

"You got that right, lady,” Brogan said, pushing his way through the crowd of people. “I've been in contact with my superiors. They've raised the threat level to five. While a lev five won't get CAPP SAT involved, it has CACA on standby should we need them."

"Really, Brogan, was it necessary to do call in your superiors?” Dr. Grayson asked.

"You bet your ass it was. When I see a man shot through the air by a door, my ass hair starts twitching. Let me tell you—it's doing the Mambo, as we speak,” Brogan shot back.

"Sounds to me like you need to leave the canned beans alone.” Stud couldn't resist the cheap shot. The man was such a maroon.

"So what do you suggest? We get our guns and shoot the place up until nothing comes out to get us in our sleep?” Dr. Grayson snapped.

"Sounds good to me,” Brogan said.

"It would,” Grayson huffed.

"Look, we can post guards,” Breathred offered. “Brogan, you can't guard it around the clock. Don't deny that wasn't your plan. We can put two men to watch over the opening. That way nobody is left alone."

"Good thinking, but I'll have a radio set up at the base camp. Each guard will carry a walkie-talkie. I want somebody at camp in case something goes down,” Brogan countered.

"I can live with the suggestion, if you can,” Dr. Grayson said. “But I want to be notified next time, before you call your superiors."

"Can't make any promises, but I'll see what I can do.” He grinned.

"See you do,” Dr. Grayson warned.

"So what do we do now?” Stud was tired of all this back and forth. Humans tended to talk things to death, when all they needed was to let a chimp take charge. “I vote for going back to the tent and crawling into my sleeping bag, if anybody hasn't got a better idea."

"Sounds like a plan to me,” Breathred piped up. “I'm kinda wet and my tender parts're all numb from the snow."

"I agree,” Grayson smiled. She turned to Dr. Truehart, who was standing beside the open doorway leading to the tomb. “Edmund, do you mind helping Brogan set up the radio equipment? I'll assign guards once I've had a chance to warm up."

"I'll be glad to, Donna. If you wouldn't mind, could you have somebody bring back some coffee? I'm half past frozen, myself,” he chuckled.

"As soon as we get back, I promise.” She smiled. “And some sandwiches. You look like you could use a bite to eat."

"I wouldn't turn it down,” he answered.

"Good. Whoever you send can stay with the limey while I get the equipment set up at camp and bring the walkie-talkies for the guards,” Brogan said, lighting a cigar.

Stud almost offered to stay behind just to give Truehart grief, but Breathred needed him. Something weird had gone on at that door, besides the static shock from hell. He could tell from the look on Breathred's face, some bad shit was about to go down and wondered if all Brogan's precautions would be enough to stop it once started.

Breathred took all this in absently. His gaze was riveted to the hollow void of the tomb's entrance. He tried to peer into the darkness, but except for fleeting shadows playing off the waning sun, nothing could be seen. Despite this, he felt the malevolence leaching from the opening. No matter how seductive the voice had been in his head, he knew without a doubt like Pandora, he had loosed an old evil upon the world. He just hoped he would fare better than she had.

"Thank you, Doctor. That is exciting news. I do wish I could be there to enjoy this moment with you, but unfortunately, duty calls.” Leopold grimaced.

Lewis knew the look on the elder vampire's all too well. Leopold was not getting what he wanted. That always put him in a bad mood. He had seen it coming, as soon as he saw the doctor's name on the caller ID. From the expression on the old vampire's face they must have gotten the tomb open.

"Get in touch with me as soon as you can. Perhaps Lewis and I can make time in our schedule to get back up to site. Thank you again,” Leopold said before slamming the phone down on the table.

"Things not going well?” Lewis said, trying not to crack a smile.

"No, that foolish woman opened the tomb. I thought our agent was going to stop her until we could figure out a way for us to be present,” Leopold ranted.

"I don't know. You handled that side of things.” This time Lewis couldn't help himself—a huge smile split his ebony face. He quickly put his hand over his face to cover it up. No sense in making Leopold any madder than he already was.

"Just shut up. Well, since you don't know shit about it, let's talk about something you do know. Did you get the truck like I told you to?” Leopold demanded.

"Yeah, it's on standby."

"I want you to have it here by sunset tomorrow. I feel a road trip coming on."

"Hey, Leo. Look on the bright side. If they got the door open, it means your virgin is still intact,” Lewis said, hoping it would calm the vamp down some.

Leopold poked his long finger in the younger vampire's face. “It does, doesn't it? You had better just hope he stays that way."

"Why do I have to worry about your virgin?” Lewis asked indignantly. This didn't sound good at all.

"Because, if this blows up in my face, somebody has to pay and you can't very well expect me to pay for your mistake,” Leopold snapped.

Before Lewis could respond, Leopold swept from the room. Lewis was torn between being grateful the old poof was gone, and hating the fact he had let Leopold get in the last word. In any case this wouldn't do. It was just like the man to make being dead a pain in the ass.

[Back to Table of Contents]

There are things your Mother never told you, and things you wish she'd kept to herself.

Christopher Roberts was not happy. Drawing guard duty was bad enough, but to have to sit out here in the fricking cold with that goof off Sharbano was more than he could stand. Looking over his shoulder, he saw his fellow guard propped up against a pile of snow-covered dirt, snoring. Hell, the dumbass was already asleep. Just great. They had three more hours until they got relief and Sharbano was already acting like he was off duty. Two o'clock couldn't get here fast enough. A warm bed was calling his name.

Chris walked over to the sleeping man and kicked his feet out from under him. Sharbano fell crashing to the ground. Roberts let out a satisfied chuckle. Served the bastard right. Good thing Brogan hadn't caught him. The Canadian had been checking up on them since they came on duty. If the sawed-off runt was going to keep coming out here, why wasn't he on duty? This was a pain in the old vertical upright.

"What the hell'd you do that for?” Sharbano groused, rubbing his sore backside.

"Thought I saw Brogan coming,” Roberts lied.

"Man, that guy's a freak,” Sharbano whispered, just in case Brogan was within hearing distance.

"I got to hit the head, Chuck. Think you can handle it for a few minutes until I get back?"

"Sure, go ahead. You better call it in, though. Whoever's manning the radio'll have a fit, if we both don't check in."

"Okay, can you do it for me? I can't squeeze it shut for much longer. If you need me, give a yell.” Roberts duck-walked back toward camp.

"Got it. Hey, Chris, better watch out for critters. They might take a liking to that backside,” Sharbano shouted after him.

"If they can stand the smell, let ‘em try,” Roberts yelled back.

Sharbano lifted the radio to his ear and called in. It took about two minutes to explain the situation. It would have taken less time, but felt he owed it to Roberts to make sure everyone knew about his leaky bowels. Releasing the button, Sharbano was left with the realization he was the only one who was stirring this far from camp. It frankly gave him the willies. Who knew what was hiding out there? There could be anything from rabbits to a frigging Big-Foot. His gaze shifted uneasily over the night-drenched landscape. Uncertainty filled him at the thought of being alone guarding a grave. The whole thing was too much like a bad horror movie, or a good one for that matter.

This was not what he had had signed up for. Chuck was only in this class because of a girl anyway, and the chick hadn't even made the cut to come along. Chuck wasn't even sure how he'd made it, to tell the truth. He kicked at a lump of snow, only to have his toe crash into a hidden rock. After hopping around for a more than suitable time, he collapsed onto a bare patch of ground that had not been touched by the early snow.

Chuck let his head fall to his chest. Man, when would he learn not to let women get him into things like this? He was a Liberal Arts major for Pete's sake. Last time he looked, liberal arts majors didn't squat in the snow in the middle of nowhere. They, on the whole, preferred squatting in smoky bars. If it wasn't for the extra credit, he wouldn't be here at all.

A shadow passed over the moon, making him glance skyward. The biggest owl he'd ever seen was flying toward the tree line. The bird let out an eerie hoot that sent him flying to his feet. This was just too spooky. Where the hell was Chris? How long did it take to drop a stinky load, anyway?

He settled down facing the open tomb door, trying not to think about it. The black hole glared back at him, taunting him. Chuck found himself sliding back from the opening. He didn't like it one bit. This whole damn thing was freaky. He was beginning to think the extra credit wasn't worth it.

Wait a minute! Was he crazy or did something just move in there?

Brogan had told them under no circumstances were they to enter the tomb. If anything strange happened, they were to call it in and let him handle it. He picked up his radio to call base camp, almost had it to his mouth when something made him stop. What if it was nothing? Then he really would look like a scared puppy. But, what if it was something? He sure as hell wasn't getting enough extra credit to die out here.

Fuck it! He was calling Brogan. After all, the Canadian was the one who got paid for doing this shit. As he raised the walkie-talkie to his mouth, a feather light touch danced at the base of his neck. He was instantly frozen in place.

Chuck my love. You do not need their help. Come to me and I'll give you all the help you'll need,
a voice whispered in his ear.

The soft, sultry voice sent a shiver down his spine. Chuck, who was no stranger to erotic dreams, recognized the voice as being of that nature. Against his own volition, he felt himself drop the walkie-talkie to the ground.

You don't need those fools. Enter the darkness and know the pleasure that awaits you, the likes of which you have never dreamed possible,
the voice cooed.

"Chris is that you? If it is, this isn't funny,” Chuck howled into the darkness.

Does this look like Chris to you?

Chuck's entire body was cold with sweat and fear. His brain quaked with the fact something was here with him—something other than human. The part of the human mind that couldn't help but look into the unknown took over. All of Chuck's survival instincts went into quiet remission. In a move that defied all semblance of logic itself, the frightened boy turned to the shrouded tomb.

Light shimmered within the darkness. Gradually the light condensed and took form. Chuck stared breathlessly at a vision that would have quickened even a priest's libido. A woman—no, a goddess—stood framed by the blackness of the night. She was every bit of six feet and every inch of it was woman. Bountiful curves strained against the tight-fitting gossamer barely concealing the pleasures they held in check. He licked his lips, which had suddenly gone dry. His eyes roamed the vision, lingering shamelessly on certain areas longer than seemed necessary, before finally settling onto her perfectly formed face.

Large almond eyes the color of the forest under the fullness of the midday sun beckoned to him from a cage of sweeping lashes. He wanted to look away, but his gaze was imprisoned by her stare. Her lips were plump ribbons under her Romanesque nose. His mind replayed the fantasy of holding those lips in his, until his body burned with the want of them.

He shook his head trying to clear her from his eyes. The vision's flowing auburn hair and perfect face just wouldn't allow it. Chuck closed his eyes and counted slowly to ten. He went ahead and added eleven and twelve, just to be on the safe side. Finally, feeling he had let enough time go by to clear whatever mirages had decided to populate his waking mind, Sharbano forced his eyes open.

The woman was still there. So, maybe this wasn't a dream. He liked the idea. It was probably a Canadian honey who just happened to be wandering around in the forest looking for a little fun. He had already decided this would be a perfect spot for a nudist colony. What if there already was one, and she was the welcoming committee? He liked that even better. It made him forget all about the voice in his head.

"You know you're not supposed to be around here. We kinda got a situation going on,” Chuck said, deciding to wow her with his authority.

You don't say. What kind of situation could bring a man of your obvious strength into the night, good sir?
the woman whispered in his mind.

"Well. It seems we've unlocked a gateway straight to hell.” He gave her a sly wink. “And they sent ol’ Sharbano out here to keep things from getting out of hand."

So brave you are. It makes a woman feel safe to know a man like you is here to protect us.
She all but swooned into his arms, as she spoke.