III

Sleeping Dragon felt a little like canned tuna as she tried to wriggle around for some extra arm room in the back of the British bomber airplane. For such a gigantic machine, it was surprisingly cramped on the inside, especially with everyone’s parachuting gear and combat equipment. In the few hours they had been in the aircraft, the crew and passengers said little on their way to the drop-zone. When he wasn’t looking out the windshield, she felt the pilot’s voyeuristic gaze shift her way. She wished he’d focus more on getting the big, diesel-stinking, bird to the target in one piece.

The team for Operation Aegis included Sleeping Dragon, the two paratroopers who had attended the briefing, the piloting crew, and of course, Sir James Carpenter, who sat across from her.

To his credit, since his childish rantings during the briefing, Sir James had calmed himself. He seemed to have begrudgingly accepted his role in the mission, but refused to acknowledge her presence. Instead, he kept his face buried in a text, On the Origin of Species by Means of Natural Selection, whatever that was.

His attire also set him apart from the others. He had said in the meeting that he didn’t want a fight, and his outfit reflected that, appearing far more suited for a night on the town than a military operation. A dark, maroon vest and ruffled, white shirt were tucked into black trousers. On his hands, white, silk gloves. He had a maroon cape to match the vest, adorned with his various medals of valor from the Great War. The higher-ups said he was wealthy and powerful, but just how long of a leash did the British keep on this bloodsucker? She hoped the old fool didn’t plan on wearing that ridiculous cape underneath his parachute.

A long rapier rested next to him. Much like the man it belonged to, the sword was ornately decorated to the point of being gaudy: a hardened, black leather scabbard with a golden, floral pattern painted on the tip. The rapier had a swept hilt and handle made of polished silver. A large, gleaming ruby adorned the pommel. She could picture someone using it on stage, but to actually fight with it? Preposterous!

Despite perceived impracticalities, however, the beautiful weapon drew her eyes. But what was she fawning over? The silly blade and the man who wielded it were made for each other: two tacky, obsolete relics. Luckily, they’d arrive at Dumbleton soon enough and she wouldn’t have to be distracted by the grumpy coot and his oversized letter opener for much longer. With any luck, James and Unit-17 would kill each other. Isseki nichou: one stone, two birds.

The bomber’s pilot cranked his head back to face the crew. “Three minutes to target! Get your 'chutes ready!”

“No parachute for me, thank you,” Sir James said as he slipped a raven’s feather inside his book to mark the page, stood, and stretched his brittle spine. The audible crack-ck-ck made Sleeping Dragon’s skin crawl. “I have something a little more fun in mind!”

Perhaps she wouldn’t need Unit 17 to take care of Sir James after all. His brains must’ve gone soft.

After Sir James vehemently refused their assistance, the two paratroopers helped Sleeping Dragon into her parachuting equipment while exchanging worried glances about the senile vampire. They operated with haste, handling her roughly as they put the heavy jump gear on her back.

“Don’t get any funny ideas, lechers,” she warned.

They didn’t. The two young men tightened Sleeping Dragon’s protective leg straps in a well-trained, hasty fashion, not relishing in their rare proximity to her thighs. When they finished, she fastened her precious vampire slaying tools, her katana and kodachi, tightly to her body. Sir James made no such preparations, instead opting to stand casually by the exit hatch-- he was crazy, although she had to admit he looked dapper.

“Thirty seconds!” the pilot roared. “Prep for jump!”

Sir James faced the paratroopers. “Stay keen, gentlemen. We don’t know what sort of traps Herod has set.”

“Yes, sir!”

“Good luck, sir!”

He glanced towards Sleeping Dragon for the first time since their departure. “You too. Don’t become lax in judgment.”

If he was attempting to hide his disdain towards her, he did a botched job of it. But no matter. She was a professional. Part of being a pro was hiding her disdain towards others.

“Ryoukai shita. Understood, sir.”

Why was he so concerned all of a sudden about her well-being? That vile bloodsucker, 17, was good as dead. The vampire ojiisan should’ve worried about the jump.

The pilot now opened the hatch of the plane. “Ten seconds!”

The latches slowly opened with an obnoxious buzz. A deafening torrent of cold wind blasted Sleeping Dragon, stinging her face and turning her pale cheeks cherry blossom pink. The sky was dark and thick with opaque, grey clouds, covering the moon and stars: a perfect cover for the party’s murderous aim.

“Operation Aegis will now commence! Godspeed!” Sir Carpenter shouted over the howling wind.

“GO! GO! GO!” the pilot commanded.

The vampire spread his dark cape, and plunged into the night sky.