The Dark Edge Chronicles - Clan War

Heathrow

Truk proved prophetic: almost as soon as the pilot toggled the fasten seatbelts light off, the three stewardesses were taking turns hovering just over Lash's shoulder, starting out with light, friendly banter at first. Banter that quickly became more and more flirty as the flight progressed, some of the suggestive language forward enough, Lash swore he could hear Fiadh's teeth grinding in fury behind him.

If he could, he would've told her she had nothing to be jealous of, although it was likely more she was being particularly possessive in light of their recent intimacy and the successful procreation of a new life in her womb. No human could even be a shadow of the woman she was. They were mere humans. She, on the other hand, was a Queen of the Night People! There was no more desirable woman ever born on Earth!

As always, the stewardesses and their hovering moved into the background, Lash turning inward to examine their plan for moving through the much larger Heathrow International Airport without incident. If the Hand was going to strike before they were on their way to Brussels, it would be there. Same for the White Flames, though he was less certain about them.

Bronwyn had indicated she had picked up their scent before she went to retrieve their rental, but the trace was scattered and distant. Another quick check of the plane brought, other than a grimace of distaste at smelling packed-in humanity, was another negative result for the particular mix of metal, blood, and gun oil the White Flames seemed to wear like another layer of skin.

Scenting the Hand, however, had proved difficult. Without a base to solidify the scent on, like she had on the soldiers they had taken out in front of the safehouse, she had picked up several different vampiric scents. Some were similar enough to Fiadh, that they implied the O'Broin were moving through the city, intent on some task but not coming close to the safehouse in acknowledgment to Fiadh's stated goal of traveling with the Ventru.

Other groups Bronwyn also picked up, knots of vampires traveling here and there, consumed by their own business without carrying ill will or dark resolve about them like a foul cloud. These, Lash also dismissed, knowing they had nothing to fear from them.

The third cluster of scents Bronwyn picked up, however, while nowhere close to the safehouse, had dark intent swirling around them so strongly, the werewolf had frowned in dismay when she picked them up. Unfortunately, without anything to definitively identify this third set of smells, the big vampire couldn't determine whether they were actually Hand agents. Or just vampires on an active hunt.

Either way, he took every precaution available to them to see his small company safely to the airport. If the Hand was indeed out there, it was just a matter of time before they struck. And he wanted them to be as ready as possible when they did!

So focused was he on their track through Heathrow, Lash didn't notice the plane descending or landing. Only when it finally came to a halt at a gate on the relatively compact Terminal 2, the hub point for Aer Lingus. According to the itinerary, their connecting flight sat at a gate in Terminal 5, hub for British Airways. And easily one of the busiest in the sprawling Heathrow, the biggest of the five international airports serving Greater London.

The big vampire had already plotted the fastest route from Terminal 2 to 5 on the way in, avoiding most of the congestion that was inevitable in an airport this big. Then, brushing aside the stewardesses' attempts to slip him their numbers, as he always did, he was directing his small company off the plane and onto the bridgeway as soon as the door was open.

He directed them to stay close, with Truk, Narcist and Bronwyn forming a protective triangle around Fiadh. That allowed Lash to quickly scout ahead, his hand never far from his weapon.

Unlike the Dublin Airport, the big vampire was very familiar with Heathrow's sprawl. It had served a number of times as a gathering place for teams heading across the Atlantic into the Americas, and a jump off point for those same teams dispersing after their missions were done, heading back home to clan and hearth.