“Aye,” Bryce replied. “We all thought vampires were an anomaly, the only species of their kind out there, until the redbills came along… right around the time vampires stopped showing up. I’m not even going to try to speculate about that one. All I know is they’re somehow made of the same stuff as vampires. Not natural.”
“Do you believe in reincarnation, sir?” Zach asked.
My brother’s smile clearly indicated that it was a joke, but Bryce’s expression looked oddly strained.
“Not sure about that, lad. But karma, maybe? I mean, it is odd, isn’t it, that we get rid of vampires, only to be saddled with this other huge, heaving problem.” He cast Roxy a look. “Not that it’s necessarily of the same caliber. But it’s a problem nonetheless. And it appears to be getting worse.”
He finished on a quiet note that seemed to infect the room. My brother and I exchanged glances, and the tension in Zach’s jaw reflected what I felt in my gut. Hopefully not too much worse. Or at least, not too quickly. We struggled to keep pace as it was.
Unlike vampires, redbills could not be concealed from the public. Vampires had been discreet, and they had always attacked in seclusion—one on one. They rarely left witnesses. That had been the government’s major advantage in preventing the mass fear and panic among citizens which would surely have followed a declaration that vampires walked among us.
With the redbills, the authorities had been able to get away with explaining them as an abnormal breed of stork, a strange fluke of nature—possibly even the result of past nuclear plant accidents—and that research was ongoing to determine their origin and the best way to subdue them. But if they bred too much and attracted too much attention, that explanation would become harder and harder to swallow. Our saving grace was that they hadn’t spread to other countries yet—or at least, there’d been no reports.
We needed to keep it that way.
“Landing in five.” The pilot’s announcement broke through the quiet.
I shifted in my seat, wanting a distraction, and glanced out the nearest window as the aircraft tilted. I watched the thousands of lights of downtown Chicago rise to meet us. The evening felt so clear and calm, so comfortingly normal, that if it weren’t for my still-damp hair and sore thigh, it would be hard to believe we’d just been battling monsters.
This was what we were fighting for, I reminded myself. A world where we could all sleep peacefully at night, where families could vacation without fear, where couples could enjoy their late-night dates and children could play out on the streets. The world as it should be.
I was among the first to unbuckle when the aircraft touched down on the roof of our base. I stood up slowly, testing out my right leg, and winced slightly. It hurt more than when I’d sat down, probably due to swelling where the beak had caught my suit. I was going to have one ugly bruise. But it could have been a lot worse. Like, no-leg-at-all worse.
“You okay?” Gina asked from beside me, obviously noticing my grimace.
I nodded. “Yeah. I can still walk and run. I just need some rest.”
I moved toward the door, wanting to get ahead of the crowd. I was definitely looking forward to resting. It wasn’t late, but my little swim had taken more out of me than I’d realized.
The door drew open, letting in a chilly waft of air, and I was on the verge of leaving when Bryce called, “Hold up, folks.”
We all turned to see him staring down at his comm screen.
“We’ve just had another summons,” he announced.
My breath caught. “Another one?” Our team had never had two calls in a single day.
“In Chicago?” Sarah asked incredulously.
“Nope. Washington, D.C. They’re short-staffed because New York State borrowed from them. They’re requesting any recruits available.” Bryce glanced up at us. “Satellites flagged an unnatural frequency at a closed church, and the D.C. chief needs a team to investigate. Suspicion is there’s a bird trying to nest there, because it hasn’t posed a threat yet.”
“And we have to leave now?” Roxy asked.
“First thing in the morning,” Bryce replied. “They’re keeping an eye on the building for the moment, but I need you all here by four a.m. sharp. Go to bed as soon as you get home, and you’ll be bright and fine.” His face twitched in a dry smile.
I glanced at my watch—21:45—before Zach grabbed my arm and pulled me down the stairs after him.
“No rest for the wicked, eh?” Gina murmured from behind us as she followed.
No… No, I guess not.
Chapter 2
Captain Bryce gave us his usual short “goodbye” grunt as my teammates and I hopped from the chopper to the air pad. He stayed behind to discuss the next morning’s strategy with the pilots.
We entered the Bureau through sliding steel doors and were greeted by familiar obsidian-black walls. The tired shuffling of our boots echoed from the vaulted ceilings. After a night like this, the main hallway always seemed never-ending.
Everyone stayed silent until we reached the elevators. Roxy hit the down button.
“Have a good night,” I called in her direction.
“Yeah, sweet friggin’ dreams,” she muttered. The rest of the crew shook their heads, trying to laugh through their sighs.
As they filed into the elevator, my brother, Gina, and I split from the group, heading toward the giant metal door that always reminded me that my bed was close.
Zach pulled his ID from his suit’s breast pocket and pressed it against a dark gray pad on the wall. Three low beeps rang out, and a clunk sounded through the hall as the door unlocked. I reached to pull down the handle, but Zach slapped my hand.
“Take it easy, gimp.” He grinned.
I rolled my eyes while he pulled the massive door open, and we started down a much smaller hallway into the residential staff apartments. I wonder if Mom and Dad are still awake.
The narrow white walls of the base’s family housing were lined with sporadically placed numbered doorways. Zach and Gina pulled ahead of me. Whether I wanted to admit it or not, my pace was a little slower than usual.
Gina glanced back over her shoulder. “Want an arm?”
“I’m good,” I assured her.
We finally reached 237. Zach once again pulled out his ID, pressed it to the pad, and opened the door to our family’s apartment. I faintly smelled casserole. Zach made a beeline for the kitchen and started making himself a plate.
“I’ll have a bite and then head to my apartment, if there’s enough,” Gina said, unlacing her boots beside me in the entryway.
“Mom always makes a full tray. Lyra, you want a plate?” Zach called.
“Not really hungry,” I said, carefully bending over to untie my own boots.
Gina eyed me. “You need to lie down.”
I nodded to acknowledge her concern but said nothing—I didn’t want her going into mothering mode.
She half-smiled. “You and your brother. So damn stubborn. I’ll see you at the ass-crack of dawn, Lyra,” she said, accepting the plate of casserole Zach handed her.
I waved over my shoulder as I headed toward my bedroom. I assumed my parents were asleep.
Most twenty-one-year-olds in America didn’t live with their parents, but most people in America didn’t grow up as second-generation OB agents. Bureau base housing was limited, so until Zach and I had families of our own, we shared quarters with our parents. Honestly, we were all so busy that we didn’t see much of each other on a daily basis.
Halfway down the hall, I noticed a light shining under the closed living room door—and heard voices.
The sound of my mother’s sharp tone halted my breath and footsteps. She rarely spoke above a gentle hum, albeit a hum that commanded respect. When I could hear her through a closed door, something was wrong.
I couldn’t make out her words, so I inched closer. I heard my father’s voice interject, lower and slower than my mother’s, but just as severe. I held my breath, now able t
o make out the words.
“I don’t understand how the Board hasn’t taken action on this yet,” my mom snapped. “It’s unacceptable. This is not how the Bureau is supposed to conduct itself.”
My heart jumped at another familiar voice, calm and thick as caramel. Uncle Alan. “Don’t be so quick to judge, Miriam. We’re dealing with something we don’t understand yet.”
It was hard to hear what they were saying over Zach and Gina chatting in the kitchen. Quiet. Quiet! I squeezed my eyes shut and focused on the living room door—after all, it wasn’t like I could shush my brother and his girlfriend so I could snoop better.
Uncle Alan dropped his voice, and Zach’s fork scraping his plate from the kitchen drowned out my uncle’s words. Several moments passed, but I remained frozen.
My mother gasped. “Unbelievable.” My heart pounded so loudly in my ears that her higher timbre was the only thing I could distinguish.
Uncle Alan raised his voice an octave in response to my mother’s concern but then cleared his throat and returned to his hushed tone. “These are the facts we have. Like I’ve explained, even these vague details are strictly secret.”
My mother didn’t like her brother’s response, apparently, because her voice peaked again, cracking this time. “People’s lives are at stake! How could the Bureau keep something so dangerous a secret?! You and your damned red tape—papers and signatures aren’t more important than human lives!”
This time my father joined in. “How many more soldiers need to throw themselves at these monsters before we get this under control? These are our children—your niece and nephew, Alan.”
“Miriam, Russell,” Uncle Alan replied calmly. “We all know why the Bureau has to do this. Something like this getting out could be catastrophic. I understand your concern. But letting this information reach anyone else’s ears is out of the question. There’s a reason it took me so long to tell you. And that only happened because of your promotion last month, Russell.”
I bit my lip, and my eyes widened. My father was the new Head of Defense Technology.
“You are the only ones not on the Board who know anything about this at all,” my uncle offered.
A heavy silence fell in the room. I started to feel lightheaded from holding my breath.
Uncle Alan continued, his usual sweetness now turned slightly rigid. “Stability and calm are the most important things for the Bureau, this country—and the globe—right now.”
Guilt knotted my stomach. I was beginning to get uncomfortable about eavesdropping for so long.
I cleared my throat and knocked softly on the living room door. My mother’s voice became a hurried whisper, and my father called out, “Yes, we’re in here.”
I pushed the door open to reveal three weak attempts at smiles.
“Hi, everyone,” I said cautiously.
My uncle sat in the armchair to my left, across the coffee table from my parents. His platinum hair was slicked back in its usual fashion, his trim gray suit predictably impeccable, even at this late hour. He whisked two papers from the coffee table and into the depths of his shiny leather briefcase, but not before I recognized the emblem in the header—Bureau non-disclosure paperwork.
“Lyra! We weren’t expecting you home so early,” he said warmly, and I couldn’t help but smile back at him. No matter how tired I was, I always had extra energy for Uncle Alan. “A successful operation tonight, I hope?” he asked, wavering slightly as he stood with the help of his cane.
The memory of crashing into frigid water jolted my mind. “Mostly.”
My parents weren’t as good as my uncle when it came to pretending nothing was wrong. I met their worried eyes, looking at each of them in turn. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes, Lyra, we’re fine,” my mother said, her usual tenderness returning. “Come and sit with us.”
I moved to join my parents, teetering lightly—but mostly from exhaustion at that point.
My father eyed me with concern. “Are you hurt?”
“Nah, she’s just being a baby.” Zach followed me into the living room. “Big Bird got the best of ya tonight, didn’t he?”
I shot him a glare and eased onto the couch. My muscles sighed with relief as I sank into the cushions.
“Lyra enjoyed her first snatch-n-fly tonight, didn’t you, sis?” Zach smiled.
“Are you okay?” my mother asked.
“Oh, she’s totally great.” Zach leaned a hand nonchalantly on the back of Uncle Alan’s chair. “She and birdie even went swimming together!”
If my knives had still been attached to my leg, they would’ve gone flying. I kept my eyes locked on my smirking sibling, glaring the daggers I couldn’t throw, while I explained to my horrified parents. “We’d hit the target multiple times, and I thought it was eradicated, but it bounced back and caught me off guard. It was the biggest redbill I’ve ever seen.”
My parents tried to stay stoic, but they exchanged a glance. Zach’s grin faded, and his eyes darkened. Uncle Alan wrung his hands.
“I need to get to bed,” I said, breaking the sudden quiet I’d created.
“The Scottish ogre is calling us in at 4 AM,” Zach said, stretching his arms toward the ceiling.
“Special summons in D.C., apparently,” I added, rising from the couch.
My mother sighed. “It’s always something these days.”
“Get plenty of rest, you two,” Uncle Alan said.
I smiled again—entirely for my parents’ sake this time. They suddenly looked fragile… older than I’d ever seen them, and so much smaller than they did when addressing soldiers and coworkers at the Bureau.
I steadily lumbered down the hall to my bedroom. The mere sight of my bed was pure bliss. The weight of the day had finally taken over. I was thankful that the ache from my leg had started to quiet.
Too exhausted to change, I slid into bed in my uniform fleeces. I’d had to sleep in much less comfortable uniforms, that was for sure.
But I didn’t sleep. All I could manage was staring at the ceiling, counting the circles of my ceiling fan and listening to the nighttime hums of our residence. Every time I closed my eyes, I felt the redbill’s claws wrapped around my body, saw the dark feathers looming as I tilted my head back… and all I could hear was my mother’s protest. Papers and signatures aren’t more important than human lives…
I didn’t know exactly what I’d overheard in the living room, but something didn’t feel right.
Chapter 3
Our seats vibrated as the chopper carried us over the still-sleeping territory below. The tiny window behind my head offered only dimly lit veins of highways and the deep violet and bronze of sunrise.
We’d transferred off the Bureau plane outside of D.C. and would only be in the chopper for a few more minutes. The team was in our usual circle, though somewhat cramped in the smaller aircraft, listening silently as Captain Bryce gave us the rundown. His tone was sharp—even at six o’clock in the morning.
“We’ll split into three teams once we reach our destination,” Bryce barked. “All three teams will be on the ground; Teams A and B will enter the site, and Team C will be posted outside the church. Team C—Lammers, Grayson, that’s you. If anything comes in or out of that church, it’s your problem.”
I glanced around, finding most eyes glued tensely to the chopper’s floor. Grayson’s knee was bouncing.
“Team B. Zach, Colin, Roxy, Louise, Greta. You will split into groups, enter the church from the west windows and main door, and cover the first floor.” Bryce pulled on his gloves as he walked around the circle. “You will not leave that floor unless I tell you to. Only necessary use of comms inside the site. I shouldn’t hear more than a mouse fart in my earpiece. I’ll be on the floor with you, so any chitter-chatter will answer to me—and I promise you’d prefer the redbill.”
We rarely had the captain on the ground with us. Sweat dampened my palms, and I hadn’t even heard my station’s details yet.
&nbs
p; “Team A.” Bryce paused to clear his throat, his icy eyes glancing down momentarily. “Gina, Lyra. You two will enter through the east wall’s window. The site has multiple levels, and you will be the first to head up. Silence is golden, lassies.”
I nodded, holding Bryce’s gaze. Gina sat to my left, and I watched her hands clench.
“The main floor is somewhere around thirty-thousand square feet,” our captain continued. “We haven’t placed the target yet, so step lightly. Redbills’ sense of hearing isn’t nearly as sharp as their eyesight, which is why I’m permitting an airdrop. But don’t take anything for granted once we’re in a closed space.”
The head pilot’s voice came through our earpieces. “Three minutes to site.”
“Three minutes and fifteen seconds to drop,” Bryce replied into his comm.
Zach cracked his knuckles from across the circle.
“Once we locate our target, you know what to do.” Bryce tightened his artillery belt. “Safeties off when your little feet hit the ground. Understood?”
“Yes, Captain,” the entire crew resounded loudly.
Bryce moved to the cockpit. Our comms were silent. He’d turned them off, but I could see his lips moving rapidly as he gesticulated to the pilots.
For the short time until the drop, our eyes remained locked on the tips of our boots. No one said a word. The droning of the chopper intensified, and my stomach lurched as the craft descended. I closed my eyes. Breathe. At least my thigh was feeling much better than last night. The rest had done it a lot of good.
I glanced up briefly in the silence and caught Zach looking at me. His mouth formed a small smile. He winked.
“Line up, children,” Bryce snapped, returning from the cockpit. “Look alive, why don’t ya?”
The group bolted from their seats, the sound of our steps blending with the chopper’s hum. Gina and I locked eyes, then shoulders. We made our way to the open door. The tops of trees became clearer in the now-pale-violet morning light.
The church came into view from the doorway, just to the north. Its spire had shattered; what remained was a spike of pale gray wood pointing at the sky. The shingles were scattered about the roof, some stacked together like forgotten piles of papers. The air battered my cheeks. The thrumming of the blades above battered my eardrums.
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