The Tale of Two Brothers

Chapter 1

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Nat stared in disbelief as the figure of his brother walked out of the corner of his room. Why hadn't Nat seen him? Or smelled him before? What the hell was he doing on the cruise ship? How the hell had he been found? Frowning, Nat crossed his arms over his chest.



"Tucker."



"Nathaniel." Tucker looked down to the body and seemed to exhale a small breath. "You took out my target."



"You're what?" Tucker reached behind him and in a flash, Nat had the 9mm he carried on himself at all times out and pointed at his brother's head. "Slowly move your hands away from your body." Tucker looked from his face to the gun and back again, a grin appearing across his lips.



"Easy Nat!" Tucker reached behind him and pulled out a piece of paper. Nat didn't need to look at it to realize it was a photo. Tucker turned the picture and Nat saw the face of the dead man now adorning his cabin floor on the paper. "You killed my target." Tucker put the photo away and looked down to the body then proceeded to bend down and remove the necklace around the man's neck and crush it. "If you kill one, take the necklace off. Somehow, this band of fanatics got it in their minds to make a deal with a witch. Said witch decided to give their souls to a rather new deity and if the necklace isn't removed, they get a revamp card." Nat looked to the crushed symbol. No wonder he got a feeling about it.



"What are you doing here Tuck?"



"After ten years and not a single word that's all you can say?" Tucker crossed his arms over his chest after dropping the remains of the necklace to the floor.



"Answer the question Tuck." Tucker shrugged and looked to the dead body again.



"I got a call from a source that gave me this knockers head and told me to take him out at all costs. Seems like you got wind of it as well."



"Not your hit."



"Obviously. You wouldn't have a rifle on you if it was only one would you?" Of course, his brother's nose was as sharp as ever. With a grunt, Nat put the gun down, clicked on the safety and then put it back in it's holster. said holster was specially made to fit in the small of his back, under a loose shirt. It wasn't easy access but most of the time he didn't need the gun so the holster on his back was ideal.



"What do you want?"



"Imagine my surprise to find my long lost brother on the same ship with my target." Tuckers eyes hardened. "I don't want anything from you, you fucking pansy ass. What the hell am I supposed to tell the contractor? That my hit was taken out before I could get to him? That doesn't cut it in our line of work Nathaniel."



"What do you want me to do? Bring him back to life so you can kill him again? Sorry Tuck, that's beyond my powers." Shaking his head, Nat grabbed up the duffel holding his rifle, information and bullets and headed for the door. A pain blooming on the left side of his face made him shake his head. For a moment, he'd almost blacked out. His bag was on the bed, his brother standing in front of him, breathing heavy, hands in tight fists. Did Tuck just hit him? The pain in his jaw suggested it. Moving a hand up, Nat readjusted his jaw and looked up to his brothers face.



Bright blue eyes were tinged with hunter green and flecks of red. Wolf eyes. Nat could see the wolf moving under his brother's skin, wanting to get out at the scent of a fight. Picking himself off the floor, Nat straightened his jacket and started for his duffel. He was thrown against the wall closest to him and was left staring down into his brother's eyes. Eyes he had forced himself to stay away from for ten years. It was a long, hard ten years.



"Why?"



"I had no choice." Another punch came to his right side and he could have swore he saw momentary stars.



"Wrong answer Nat." Tuck pulled him away from the wall and shoved him against it again. "What the fuck is the matter with you?! You "had no choice" what the hell does that mean? It's just an excuse!" Grabbing his brother's fingers, Nat gently -but firmly- pulled them off of his four hundred dollar jacket and held them at Tucker's sides. His brother had never been stronger than him. That was a good thing, especially in this situation.



"If we don't get up there, the others will wonder where their man has gone and frankly, being surrounded by the five monsters who took out the Red Pack Brothers doesn't appeal to me. If you don't mind Tuck, I have a job to do. What you tell your contractor is your business." Pushing his brother away with a little force, Nat grabbed up his duffel and went to the door. He opened it and peeked out before stepping out and walking away from his room. From his brother. Again.



It seemed the fates didn't give him a reprieve though. He thought they just really didn't like him. Most of the time he was proven right. Tuck was right on his heels and fuming. Nat could smell the adrenaline pumping through the younger man's system. Smell the familiar scent of pack coming off his skin. It called to something long gone in Nat. Something no longer there. Shoving off the feeling of loss, Nat continued forward and went down the stairs instead of up. Down was much better than up in times of battle. Or when there were terrorists on the top of wherever you were.



Through the boiler room, which was being manned by people completely oblivious to what was going on above them and out the back door, Nat walked around and hoped -with some small amount of prayer- that no one was in the Captains quarters. It was high up and would have a perfect view of the front and left side decks. More than likely, the five men impersonating religious figures would have everyone who wasn't essential to the ship held there at gun point. What he wasn't expecting however, were three of them to be waiting in the Captain's quarters with the Captain laying dead in a pool of blood. By the time he'd moved out of the way, they'd seen him and now he and Tuck were surrounded. At gun point. Damn.



Nat was relieved of his duffel and watched, with complete detachment, as it was sifted through and his targets found their information. Leaning over, just slightly, Nat said something under his breath that he was sure, one hundred percent, only his brother could hear. When he saw a slight movement from the corner of his eye, they were both frisked and brought to their knees. A gun was pointed at his brothers head and he felt one against the back of his skull. In that moment, his brother sprung left and he sprung right. Even though he no longer belonged to the wolves, he still had their instincts ingrained deep inside of him.



They attacked in unison, jumping in with punches, kicks and attacks meant to disarm and disable but one of the gunmen spun away and pulled the trigger. Nat watch in horror as Tucker yelped and sank to his knees, eyes falling to look at his own chest and stomach. Blood started soaking his green shirt and then, all Nat saw was red.





When he came too, all he saw was a giant white arm holding him by the throat. His eyes moved up and he noticed pure black eyes. There weren't any whites and he didn't know if there was a pupil or not.



"Ease." The arm eased up a little and he looked around, noted the bodies littered across the floor around him and he spotted Tucker. "What happened?"



"There are twelve more enemies aboard this ship. We cannot afford potential allies going into fits of rage. Are you calm?" The voice made him want to curl up and sleep. It was soothing. In a bad way. Nat just nodded and the huge arm -that had to be as big as his thigh- dropped him. Quickly, he ran over to his brother's form. Shit!



"Tuck?" He patted his younger brother's cheek. "Tuck! God damn it! Wake up pup!"



"He is dead." Nat looked up to the man who was motioning others into the room. Taking in a breath of air, Nat noticed a scent that made him cringe. Ocean. Reef. Shark. Looking back to Tucker, Nat noticed the slight rise and fall of his brother's chest. Not good. Not good at all. Jumping up, Nat looked around for something to bind his brother's body. There was nothing. He cursed and looked back to Tucker. There was breath now. His body was spitting back out the bullets in his system. Nat could smell the silver. The sharks recoiled and watched as Tuckers eyes flew open and a blood curdling growl spilled from his lips. Tuck jumped up and looked around. His eyes were red. Pure, rage, red. He lept at one of the sharks but Nat jumped in his way. Tuck didn't care.



Tuck snarled, spittle flying and lept at his brother. His mouth was full of razors and Nat got a feeling of pure dread as Tuck's mouth clamped down on the junction of his shoulder and neck. The sharks were moving into action but to Nat, it seemed like slow motion. His arms came up and he held his brother in place, one hand moving to the bleached blond locks and holding his head steady and the other around Tucks back. "Sshhh." Making soothing sounds, he waited, ignoring the pain with a hell of a lot of will power, until Tuck's body started going limp. The sharks stopped and watched, in mild interest, as Nat set Tucker down on the ground and dislodged his brother's jaw from the junction of neck and shoulder. He was pouring blood but he didn't care.



Tuck was too young to die. He wasn't even thirty years old yet. Close, but not even. As Nat made a decision that would make sure Tuck lived -albeit a little differently than he was used too- he spoke to the sharks. Turning, Tucks head to the side, Nat steeled himself up and rolled his eyes upwards.



"After I am finished with this, I will help you secure the ship. After that, I need safe passage for me and mine to a port city with a sat phone. In return for your help, I give you this." Pulling something out from under his shirt, he gave it one last look and ripped it from around his neck. He didn't even bother looking at it as he tossed it at the sharks leader.



"This is a Sai Soul Stone. Where did you get it?"



"None of your business. Just know I did not kill for it." The shark looked at him then and nodded once.



"Done." The shark turned and started ordering the other large men around. He would never get over the sight of a shark shifter. They were normally solitary creatures by nature but in times of war, they banded together with the sirenae, mer and other water dwellers to protect their homes and the secret of the other beings. Apparently, there was a lot more going on than he was being told. As was obvious by the ten or so shark shifters in the Captains cabin.



Ignoring the sharks, Nat looked down and swallowed. One heart beat passed, two. Not that he had one. Nat bent down and whispered to his brother before sinking his teeth into flesh and drawing blood into his veins. If Tuck survived, he knew his brother would hate him for the rest of their days. maybe even after. If there was one thing Tuck was, it was a wolf to the core. After this, if he survived, his wolf spirit would leave him, passing on to be with their ancestors. Tuck would be a walking shell, never able to shift shape, never able to call on his wolf brethren and an outcast to the wolf society. He would be the walking dead. The one thing all shifters despised with a passion.



He would be a vampire.



But only if he survived.





Securing the ship was harder than he thought, even with the sharks as help. He was low on blood, sporting a wound that wouldn't heal any faster than human speed and it was close to dawn. But somehow, he managed to help and when they had the ship on course for one of the small islands open to the U.S. he had finally gone back to his room where he'd lain Tuck. Waving the two guards he'd posted away and making sure neither of them had gone in the room, letting their curiosity get the better of them, he unlocked and opened the door, then shut and locked it again and looked to the bed.



Tuck still laid there, just like he was left. Walking over to the chair that was sitting at the table on the other side of the room, Nat pulled it out, turned it around and straddled it. Gently, he reached over and plucked up his younger brother's hand and held it. Memories ran through his mind, the foremost, the time of his own death. He'd done the exact same thing as Tuck.



When a wolf shifter was intentionally murdered, their wolf spirit struck out. The gave their host body a heartbeat long enough to annihilate the one who kill them and then, they passed to the next life. The heart would beat so long as the heart of their killer beat. If that meant their killer escaped and went on the run for a month, the wolf's heart would beat for a month. Once their revenge was had, the wolf would die and the spirit would join those of it's ancestors.



There were only three real ways to make sure a wolf shifter died. Pump them so full of silver you couldn't tell their ass hole from their mouth, cut off their head or dismember them. Someone, stupid son-of-a-bitch, figured out something. There was a fourth way to kill a wolf shifter. Turn them into a vampire. Sure, you couldn't do it when they were living, as in like Anne Rice's books, kill them, give them your blood and viola, you have the walking dead. That was because vampire blood to any shifter is like poison. No, you had to wait until their wolf spirit took over their body, because technically, they were dead and just reanimated. Then, wait until they attacked you, drawing the cursed blood into their veins first, then feed from them and give them just a little more of your blood and wait.



The transformation didn't always work. He had been a lucky case, as his creator had said. Luck had nothing to do with it. He'd died ten years ago after taking on the hunt for the man who killed his mother. The man hadn't been a man but a demon summoned by a witch to take out his pack. His mother was the first to die. He was the second and last. Being a wolf shifter, he stood no chance. He was killed and even his wolf spirit couldn't help him but, he watched as someone else took his revenge. A vampire. Then, he was attacking the vampire and that was all he could remember. He woke up three days later in so much pain he thought he was in hell. No, worse. He was still on earth.



It was that night that he'd actually gotten to know his creator. Kelton Jesslin MacRaleigh, son of Leland Demurow MacRaleigh. Jack Richards was for show. In all reality, Jack had died sometime back in the early thirteenth century in Scotland. His father had been a laird and when they departed on a hunting trip, he'd been captured by rogue vampires. Being human, he, his father and his two brothers stood no chance against the creatures and he watched as his family was slaughtered. he though, he was saved because Fates knew, the rogues had been gunning for him all along. They tortured him, turned him and left him. Apparently, they had something against Jack.



All in all, Jack survived the transformation, unfortunately, and had awoke in a blood lust. After catching the attention of a local vampire, Jack was nearly beheaded but, alas, not all vampires are the spawn of evil. Said local vampire took him in. Why? No one knew, not even Jack. Even after all these years the vampire still didn't know why he was taken in. He didn't bother asking either. Asking Jacks adopted sire anything was like talking to a Wraith.



When he'd come too and actually talked to Jack, he realized that Jack had been enlisted to help his wolf pack. Somehow, through everything in his life, Jack had a soft heart. Hence, why he was married. And owned a bakery. And put up with Nat's shit constantly. But just the fact that a vampire was helping wolves was a mystery. Jack said no one knew who was helping their pack and he was being contracted through an anonymous party. When he asked why Jack had turned him into the very thing he was raised to despise, other than cats, Jack simply smiled and patted him on the back. He hadn't bothered explaining.



That was ten years ago. No long in a vampires life, but long enough in a wolf's eyes. Shifters weren't immortal but they were damned close. If nothing impeded their life span and they were an alpha wolf, they could live for about five hundred years. Ten years ago, Nat had gone back to his home, under the cover of night, grabbed up his things and left. Tucker had chased him out of their home, asking where he was going, why and why he smelled different. He hadn't answered or even said goodbye. He couldn't look his brother in the eye. After that, he'd been taken under Jack's wing and now, he was a mercenary for hire, or in lame-man's terms, an assassin who worked for the highest bidder. He could change sides in the middle of a fight if the offer was big enough but most of the time, he stuck by whoever contracted him.



Being a vampire meant he could no longer walk under the rays of the sun, just as Jack couldn't, but he worked for Jack in the bakery when he wasn't out on a job. The bakery was open until ten at night. Jill ran it during the day while he and Jack ran it at night, when they weren't doing other things. He knew more about chocolate and pastries now than he had ever wanted to or had any interest in, in life. When your sire was a baker by day, assassin by night and could squash you like a bug, you did what he told you and you asked if he wanted your ass or your mouth.



Feeling dawn just over the horizon, Nat growled something and turned the chair around and laid his head down on the bed, still holding onto Tucker's hand. If Tuck woke up, the first thing he would do was make a fist. That was just the way Tuck was. And when he made that fist, if he made that fist, Nat would wake up and try to talk to him. Until then, the day sleep called to him.