Shattered: The Sundance Series

by Rider, C. P.

  "The human world has nothing to do with us."

  "You got your group's name from the human’s Christian Bible, so it kind of does." I waited for him to respond. When he said nothing, I attempted to move past him. "Get out of the way. I want to see my dad."

  "I'm sorry, but I can't allow that." The mystic tipped his head back and blew. The air that flowed out of him formed a crystalline white bubble that rapidly floated into the sky. Once it was above the tallest tree in the yard, it cracked in half, shimmering like the inside of a geode.

  A bolt of lightning hit the spot where Lucas had been standing seconds before.

  "He's causing an electrical storm," I yelled. "Be careful."

  From either side of me came a flurry of sound—low growls, a cry like nails on a chalkboard, and a loud snapping. Lucas had ripped out the throat of the mastodon, but he was only one Smilodon, and there were more shifters coming. There was what appeared to be a couple of Pleistocene coyotes and another prehistoric, this one some sort of alligator. Or crocodile? I wasn't getting close enough to see its teeth.

  Lucas whistled inside my head. Holy hell, they've got a goddamned Sarcosuchus.

  I'd had experience with a prehistoric coyote while being held captive in the sanctuary, so I recognized them right away. I knew their limitations. Alone, they'd pose no real challenge to Lucas, but two of them and a giant crocodile/alligator? That seemed to even the odds a bit.

  Lucas opened his jaws wide, teeth bristling from his mouth. He whipped his head from side to side, drew in a chest-expanding breath, then let out an earsplitting roar. The coyotes backed up. The alligator/crocodile snapped his mouth open and shut menacingly.

  "You wouldn't happen to be from Brownsville, would you?" I asked the beast.

  Neely, don't tempt him to focus his attention on you.

  It's just that I was wondering if he was any relation to the alligator that showed up at the bakery.

  It's a prehistoric crocodile, woman. Perfect. The one documentary you missed.

  Three fury-drenched howls broke through the growling and snapping and thunder. Both Barney and I went to our knees, clapped our hands over our ears.

  If a Smilodon roar made a person want to rip their ears off their head, three dire wolves howling at once made a person want to punch the appendages straight into their brain. The responding howl of four hundred-plus Texas red wolves strengthened it, until the howl was itself a weapon, along with teeth and strength and rage.

  "Magnificent Gertrudis," Barney cried, his face shining with delight. "My love, I haven't seen your true form in so long."

  The dire wolves stood behind Lucas, heads high, ears peaked, the mystic's lightning storm creating a natural firework display behind them. They were only slightly smaller than the Smilodon at nearly four feet from shoulder to ground and seven feet from tail to nose. They looked almost nothing like their Texas red wolves; their thick gray fur reminded me instead of my own wolf.

  The smallest wolf, whom I took to be Guillermo, seemed unsteady. He shivered every few seconds, and appeared to be nipping at his own flesh. I wondered if that's why the wolves had been so late to the fight. Had they encountered difficulty with Guillermo's prehistoric?

  The next largest wolf was obviously Juan, which I knew by the way he stood protectively in front of the other two. That was an alpha leader trait, one of those biological imperatives that I knew because of the way Lucas unconsciously did it to me.

  The largest dire wolf rose to her hind legs. She was entirely in wolf form, but she stood as a human. Her chest was like a barrel, her limbs heavy with thick muscle, and her eyes alternately glowed and dimmed, going from the shade of a full moon to the darkness of a new one. I had never seen anything quite like her.

  Barney was right. She was magnificent.

  "Gertrudis," he whispered, "come to me."

  Gert's enormous head swung around to face the mystic. Her eyes flared with moon magic and rage as they locked on him.

  "No. Please, my love, you must understand. I did it for all of us. He had to be sacrificed. It was the only way."

  "You know, I'd tell you to run and hide, but I don't think there's anywhere you could go to escape her," I said.

  Barney's eyes bulged; his lower lip trembled. "It was for all of us. It was a sacrifice for all of us!"

  "You knew where Guillermo was the entire time the family was desperately searching for him. You knew what Legion was doing to him, and not only did nothing to stop it but encouraged it. Somehow I don't think Gert's going to accept that whole 'I did it for us' thing—especially since no one here believes you did this for anyone but your scared little self."

  Barney scrambled backward, clawing at the door to get into the house. Gert barreled toward him from across the yard. She was at least five times as far from him as he was to the door, yet I had no fear that she wouldn't make it in time.

  He cupped his hands together as if he were holding a baseball, then reared back and threw the invisible ball in her path. Lightning struck the dirt and dry grass, causing Gert to pivot right and left, but she didn't stop. She didn't even slow down.

  He didn't move. Was he thinking Gert might change her mind during her ten-second charge across the yard? Was he thinking she'd gaze deeply into his eyes and decide she couldn't live without him? Perhaps he was thinking that once she reached the porch, she'd stop and embrace him.

  Gert embraced him all right.

  She embraced him right through the front door, creating a crater where the doorframe used to be. After which, she did stop—in fact, she slammed on the brakes and released Barney's body, which flew into the living room and slammed into the far wall. Blood trickled from the sides of his mouth, but he wasn't dead.

  I was still outside, afraid to enter. I had no idea if Gert was in her right mind or if she would kill me. If she slipped into berserker mode the way Lucas and Juan did, she would view everyone as an enemy. No one, friend or foe, would be safe.

  The majestic wolf looked over her shoulder at me, wrinkled her snout, and shrugged.

  So, no berserker mode then.

  I entered the room where Barney was, unbelievably, trying to free himself from the wall. "How are you not dead?"

  "I am a being of magic. It will take more than a blow from a wolf to kill me." Any softness he had within him toward Gert had dissipated. "You think you've won today, but this was only a taste of what's to come. We will no longer play second fiddle to you shifters. He will hunt you down."

  "Who?" I asked.

  "The leader." Barney gnashed his teeth and blood drooled down his chin. "He will crush you, spiker. In ways you had no idea you could be crushed."

  "Tell him to get in line," I said.

  Barney faced Gert. Gone was the vibrant man from the porch. This Barney was the one I'd first met, the one who was slow and frail and needed to lean on a cane to get around. Whatever spell he'd done to himself to appear younger and more energetic had worn off.

  "I was supposed to give them you. In order to prove my loyalty to the cause, I had to betray someone close to me. I couldn't do it, Gertrudis."

  "So you sold out her grand-nephew instead? Nice way to show you care."

  "Gil had left the pack. He was a spoiled, careless child who hurt his family. He was the obvious choice." Barney coughed, spraying blood.

  I stepped out of his range. "The obvious choice was not to join Legion. What did this Elijah offer you to make all this worth it?"

  Barney's eyes glittered with a faraway sort of excitement, as if he were viewing something in a dream. "Power. Eternal life. The world."

  Without telegraphing her intention, Gert lifted her paw and smacked Barney upside the head. He hit the wall again, this time bleeding from his nose and mouth.

  "You can't kill me that easily," he rasped. "I won't stop. Elijah won't stop. Legion won't stop. You are nothing against the power of our purpose."

  Unaffected by his insults, Gert reached for him again, but stopped short when she encount
ered the charm around his throat. She picked up the silver ball, rolled it around her palm.

  I'd heard very bad things about removing witch charms. There were serious magical repercussions. Deadly repercussions. "Gert, no. Don't. It's too dangerous."

  Barney appeared as calm as a windless lake. "If you try to remove it, you'll get a shock strong enough to kill an alpha shifter. Same goes if you crush it."

  It was probably the mystic's smug expression that enraged her. I know it damn sure made me mad. Whatever it was, Gert enclosed the silver charm in her fist and crushed it.

  She immediately stiffened, holding that strained position for a long moment, during which I didn't breathe. "Gert?"

  Gert looked slowly over her shoulder and gave me a huge wolf smile, reminding me that she wasn't some average alpha wolf. She was a mighty prehistoric. A dire wolf.

  Once the charm was gone, there was no need for hesitation. I locked onto Barney's brain. It took nearly no effort at all.

  "No."

  It was the last word he said before I spiked into his head, bulleting straight to the center of his brain as I saw it, the place where his life-force beat in time with the lub-dup of his heart. I hit it with all the energy I'd drawn from Lucas and Gert.

  Barney slumped against the wall, then slid to the floor, dead. It was such a quick spike that my expulsion from his head wasn't forceful. There had been no time to feed on his pain, to feel the addicting power thrum through my veins.

  Outside, light broke across the blue Texas sky as the mystic's lightning storm cleared. Some spells lasted even after the death of the caster if they contained enough magic. That had not been the case with Barney's spell.

  Gert's tail straightened as she faced me. There was a wildness in her eyes that hadn't been there the moment before. My feet were stuck in place as if glued there. My fight or flight had forfeited and flown. I couldn't move, and I knew that if I did, it would only be to turn away and throw up. She was that frightening.

  "Gert, stay calm, okay?" I reached for her brainwaves, trying to match them to mine. She was so far into her animal that I couldn't grab hold. It wasn't berserker mode, she wasn't wild enough for that, but something close.

  She growled, and my muscles loosened to nearly the point of collapse.

  Guillermo bounded into the room in dire wolf form, coming to a halt between his aunt and me. When she growled at him, he sniffed her muzzle and showed throat. She acknowledged his submission and took a step back, her gaze still on me. He leaned down and swiped his long, wet tongue over my head. It was gross, but I was grateful. He'd just given me his protection and asked his aunt for hers.

  With a growl and a yip, she shoved him aside and approached me. If I'd had to go to the bathroom, I would have gone then. Her muzzle was huge and bristling with sharp teeth. Lucas in berserker mode scared the pants off me, but this side of Gert took me to an entirely new level of fear.

  She sniffed my head where Guillermo had licked me, then opened her mouth—please don't bite my head off, please don't eat me—and licked my head, too.

  I breathed a sigh of relief as she dashed out the broken doorway, leapt off the porch, and joined Juan and Lucas, who were fighting off one of the coyotes—the other was lying in a heap against a dead tree in the yard—and trying to tackle the giant crocodile.

  Guillermo followed her out, and I took the opportunity to go deeper into the house.

  Time to rescue Dad.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  The farmhouse was quiet and dark despite the noon hour, but it wasn't empty, and my dad wasn't the only person inside.

  I knew this because I reached out with my telepathy, searching for active brains. There were two inside a room at the farthest end of the large house. One was my dad's and the other belonged to—

  "Lewiston, you were like a son to me."

  I followed the voices down the unlit hall, sticking to the shadows. Other than the oversized opening that was once a front door, there was no light in the house. Most of the windows had been covered with newspaper, and the old aluminum blinds were drawn.

  "This is bigger than the two of us, Henry. The sanctuaries must be stopped, and you and I both know that the agency doesn't have the resources or even the drive to do this. The job is too enormous, too spread out, and our people are overextended. We have no choice but to work with Legion."

  "Using what tactics?" Henry asked.

  "The same ones we use."

  "Liar. We don't torture our own." When Lewiston had no response, my dad added, "I can't believe it was you. I expect betrayal from everyone, but I truly didn't see it coming from you. Good job, Agent. You never once blew your cover."

  "Damn it, this isn't about us. It's about stopping these bastards. Isn't that the excuse you gave when you delayed going after your daughter in that sanctuary? 'It's not about my daughter, it's about burning this place to the ground, so they never hurt anyone here again.'".

  "'Only,' I said. It's not only about Cornelia—and as much as I love her, I was right. It wasn't only about her. There were children there, Lewiston." My dad said this in an annoyed tone, the one he used when he felt an explanation was beneath him.

  I stood just outside the open door and peered into the room. My dad's forehead and cheeks were smeared with dried blood. His graying, curly black hair was in disarray, and deep creases drew his mouth deeper into his face. He looked ten years older than his actual sixty, his normally dark brown skin ashen, his raw umber eyes bloodshot and swollen. His body hung limply from the restraints securing him to the chair.

  Around his neck was a silver chain with a round charm.

  "There are children at every sanctuary," Lewiston said.

  "Exactly. And if Legion has their way, they'll kill them all. They don't give a damn about shifters, no matter what their leader told you." My dad shook his head. "Elijah Price is a warlock, Lewiston, not a shifter. He runs this scam to other magical paranormals, whining about how the shapeshifters are using magical paranormals and the humans are killing them. He's got them fearful and reactive, exactly how he wants them. It's how he gets people like that fool Barney Drath to listen to him." He looked up at Lewiston. "The question I have is, what lie did he sell you to get you to turn on the mission?"

  Lewiston ran his hand over his head as he paced to the other side of the room. "I haven't turned on the mission, Henry. I just see the truth. We aren't making any headway. We tear one sanctuary down, another two go up. Maybe what we need is a revolution."

  "And you think this is the revolution? Price is a hustler, and his end goal is to wipe shapeshifters from the earth and enslave the humans. I told you before. I've been watching him for years, since the first time he climbed on a soapbox and preached his ridiculousness."

  "I've spoken to him. He's not some mentally ill man on a street corner raving about the end of the world," Lewiston said. "He assured me that we were fighting the same fight, and I believed him."

  "Of course you did. He's a con artist who told you what you wanted to hear. It's what he does."

  I'd heard enough. Still brimming with the extra energy I'd pulled from Lucas, I locked onto Lewiston's brainwaves.

  "I gave Neely her mother's journal," Lewiston said.

  "You did what?"

  "She has a right to know what's going to happen to her if she's like her mother. The apathy has already started—we both saw that when she wiped her ex-fiance's memory without a shred of remorse. It's only going to get worse. And once the bleeds start…"

  I wiped my nose with the back of my hand. It came away damp with blood. I hadn't even noticed.

  "You don't know anything about my daughter."

  "I know more than you think. After all, you taught me that knowledge is power." He crossed his arms over his chest. "I've never agreed with the way you handle your daughter, Henry. You coddle her, and your ridiculousness about protecting such a powerful weapon has to end if we are going to win this battle. She needs to know exactly who she is and what she
can do, and she needs to go into battle with us."

  "Leave Cornelia out of this."

  "Impossible." Lewiston shrugged. "Anyway, you should be grateful. If I hadn't given the book to her, it would be gone forever. Legion blew up your house. Specifically Winter, the white wolf, with the help of Drath."

  My dad's face went even grayer than before. "Was anyone hurt?"

  “No. Blacke and Gamal were there with her. Ibarra, too. That was a surprise. I really didn't expect him to look for you. I believe I underestimated that trancer."

  "You do that often, if we're being honest. It's the one complaint I have about your performance. The only one, in fact. Otherwise, you've been an exemplary agent—right up until you screwed me over."

  "Henry, that's not what this is. This is not me screwing you over. This is me fighting a war against our kind and using every weapon at my disposal to do so, the way you taught me to."

  I stepped into the doorway behind Lewiston. They were so involved in their conversation that they hadn't noticed me. For a shifter, that was unusual. For shifters like my dad and Lewiston, it was unheard of.

  "What do you plan to do with me now?" Dad asked Lewiston.

  "Talk some sense into you, I hope."

  "And if you can't?"

  Lewiston sighed. His shoulders sank and his chin fell. "Then I'll run. But I intend to keep fighting, Henry. And I intend to bring your daughter with me."

  My dad blinked. That was not the answer he'd expected. "She's a good weapon, right?"

  "There's nothing else like her in the world," Lewiston said.

  "Can you spike him without killing him?" My dad raised his voice. Apparently, he hadn't been as distracted as I'd thought.

  "Yes."

  Lewiston did not hesitate. He spun on the ball of his foot and lunged, coming at me with his shoulder down like a football player. But I was already in his head and ready to go. I spiked deep and hard—the same ice pick spike I'd given Sampson Ibarra—and Lewiston went down, tripping over his feet and smacking his nose on the floor.

  He screamed, and I sipped at his pain, tried to keep myself from spiking deeper.