Chapter 8

"That can't be right," Dixon the Smith speaks up, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Oh yes it can. But I think you are not the only ones to come under fire, so to speak." I stand and lean into the center of the table.

"I think the Brute Squad was being afflicted as well. We may need to ask Godiva about that, but while we were there she mentioned that they were dying off." I end up waving the chip around for an added effect.

I get a shock when I look to my side and see Nimrod is not paying the slighted attention to my words but rather he is staring at my butt. Was Nimrod really staring at my butt, I check again and yes he is. I get hot and wetness starts to pool in my center. Oh dear I seem to have it bad.

"That was the reasoning for the extra raids," I finish trying not to be distracted by Nimrod's attention. I simply sit back down.

Nimrod touches the small of my back and I feel these tingles all the way down to my toes. What is he doing to me? And during a meeting. I grind my teeth and keep my face as blank as I can.

Napoleon leans back in his seat and hiss out a breath through his teeth. "What it sounds like to me is we've been under attack for more that 75 year." He steeples his hand on the table. "If that is so..." He breaks off the thought, too terrible to even contemplate.

No one else the room seems to be able to speak the words, so I do it for them.

"It means that a very well organized group or persons has been slowly chipping away at you for more than half a century, with what I would call biological warfare."

Nimrod sucks in his breath. His gentle touch, gone, as he takes his hands back to his lap.

"Why?" He asks.

"I could not tell you." I shake my head.

"Your original thought," Melville says, remembering my first day here and our long talk. "You suggested that this was softening up process."

"A prelude ... to invasion." Grim faced Napoleon looks over the room's occupants.

I give Napoleon a dispirited nod. I may not like him much but his thinking is the same as mine. This could end badly for the Kindred.

"The way I see it you have two choices, you can pack up and leave. Head south or east or where ever or you can stay and fight ghosts." I look over the shocked crowd, bad enough what Napoleon had said, now I add the icing to the cake.

"We can't leave." The smith cries out, his sentiment's is echoed by the rest of the elders.

Nimrod once more puts a gentle hand on my thigh. More tingles down to my toes. I all most collapse into ecstatic. If he is trying to calm me down it is Not working. I look over at him, his eyes flash an emotion so fast that I can't identify it. I put my hand on top of his and push down hard. I move the hand down my leg and then up, more wetness pools. He damn well better let me get my hands on him after this.

The rest of the elders have been so busy arguing and yelling that they don't notice Nimrod and me. After I am sure Nimrod will keep doing what he is doing, I slowly pull my hand away. Nimrod carefully continues to stroke my leg. I continue to shiver inside.