“Would you like a tour?” Masara asked politely.
The cop shook his head. “Love one, but we need to take care of whatever evidence my department collected at the scene.”
Masara grimaced. “Oh, that’s right. Can you show me where we’ll need to go?”
Walker pulled up a map of the Tyger River Sheriff’s Department on his cell phone, then pointed out the evidence room. “None of the evidence clerks are on duty this time of night,” he told them. “The detectives and CSI would’ve put everything in the drop box in the hall outside the evidence room to be processed in the morning.”
“Well, that simplifies things.” She turned and cast a gate, which opened on yet another hallway. What appeared to be a curbside U.S. mail collection box stood against one wall, painted black with a gold Sheriff’s star logo. The Maja frowned, considering the scene. She flicked her fingers -- probably taking out any cameras -- then stepped through. Walker followed her, Duncan at his heels.
Duncan shot an uneasy look around. “Do we need to worry about some cop catching us at this? Because a jail cell and sunlight would not do my complexion any good.”
Masara shot him a raised eyebrow. “Now you’re being insulting.” She flicked her fingers, and the smoky scent of magic stung his nose. “Nobody will see or hear anything I don’t want them to.”
“Pop the lock while you’re at it,” the cop told her.
Another finger flick, and the drop box’s metal door swung open. Walker knelt and began sorting through envelopes and boxes of evidence, putting some off to the side and tucking others back where he found them. As the werewolf worked, the Magekind knelt to help. Duncan started opening packages for Masara, who conjured replacements with duplicate evidence numbers. Their knees touched as he handed her a package, and she flashed him a smile. “Thanks.”
He smiled back, enjoying the flash of warmth in those dark eyes. “You’re welcome.”
At last they were done. Walker stood and loaded the duplicates back into the drop box while the agents packed the originals into a conjured bag. “Mind if I take that?” The cop gestured at the bag. “I’ve got to interview the other werewolves in town, make sure none of them are involved. I don’t really think so -- the scent’s too far off -- but I can’t afford to ignore the possibility. I’ll give the ones I clear a sniff of the evidence and see if they can tell anything.”
“Certainly.” She handed it over. “I doubt I could do much with it anyway.”
Five minutes later, they were back in the Mageverse. “Thank God that’s done. Now I can check those weres and go home,” Walker said, slinging the bag over one shoulder.
Duncan frowned at him. “You want backup?”
“I don’t think that’s necessary. I know these guys, and I can handle them. I’m not some helpless human. Besides, I’ll scent them before I see them, so I can give you a call if I discover our assholes. You can gate over then.” He frowned. “I just have to get back to my patrol unit.”
Masara produced her cell phone and pulled up an image of the hospital on Google Earth. “Show me where you parked, and I’ll gate you there.”
Walker pointed out a corner of the lot, where a stand of trees blocked the illumination cast by nearby security lights. “It’s pitch-dark there to normal humans because of the trees this time of night. I didn’t want anybody looking too closely at my car.”
“Probably wise.” Masara flicked her fingers, and a wavering gate appeared. A big black-and-white SUV with a gold Sheriff’s logo waited under the trees in lonely splendor.
“Thanks,” Walker said. “After I ask around, I’ll give you a call and let you know if I find out anything useful.” He stepped through the gate and lifted the key fob. The SUV’s headlights flashed…
Something huge slammed into the deputy like an NFL lineman sacking a quarterback. A thundering roar drowned out Walker’s shocked yell as they both flew out of sight.
“Shit!” Duncan grabbed for his belt buckle, drew his sword, and leaped through the gate half a heartbeat before Masara.
Walker was pinned beneath another werewolf, the monster’s fanged jaws snapping in furious clicks barely an inch from his carotid. The cop had both hands fisted in the rogue’s mane as he strained to keep the knife-blade teeth from ripping his throat out. The rogue’s lips peeled up as he snarled, “You are my meat, dog. I will rip you apart like a chicken.” His voice was a rippling basso growl that made the hair rise on the back of Duncan’s neck.
“Fuck! You!” Magic exploded, rolling over Walker’s body… and two wolves snarled and strained against each other as the Magekind agents raced toward them. Which was when Duncan realized just how freaking huge the rogue was. A fuzzy Incredible Hulk of a werewolf, he made Walker look like a pup.
Duncan and Masara split up, him heading left, her running right, meaning to circle behind the combatants. Charging in to help the cop did no good if they got a face-full of fangs.
The attacking werewolf tore out of Walker’s hold and lunged for his throat just as Masara sent a wave of magic rolling over the cop. Hulkwolf’s teeth grated on the steel scales suddenly sheathing his opponent’s neck.
Though the Maja couldn’t cast a spell on a werewolf, it seemed she could cast one around him. She’d conjured Walker a suit of scale armor.
Red eyes narrowed in fury. “That won’t save you, dog. I will chew you up and spit bones.”
“Spit teeth!” Walker snarled, slamming an armored fist into Hulkwolf’s muzzle.
And it was on, the werewolves kicking and clawing, fists swinging, blood and fur flying.
Duncan jumped back to avoid taking a huge clawed foot in the gut. Sparks swirled in front of his eyes, and something curved and reflective appeared before his face. Startled, he realized he now wore a helm with a transparent faceplate. The rest of his body was sheathed in the same kind of armor Walker now wore.
He glanced at Masara just as she sent another wave of magic his way. His sword’s weight increased so suddenly, he almost dropped it on his foot. Steadying it with both hands, Duncan realized she’d turned the weapon into a battle-axe with a two-foot steel haft. Double-bladed, the head tipped with a long spike, it looked like it could put a hurting on a tank. Which, given Hulkwolf, was about right. He hefted it, eyeing the snarling tangle of lupine rage writhing on the ground, looking for a pause in the action so he wouldn’t hit the cop.
Masara spotted an opening first and swung her own transformed weapon in a horizontal cut. Hulkwolf saw it coming and rolled aside a heartbeat before she could cleave his head in two. Her battle-axe wasn’t as massive as Duncan’s -- she didn’t have a vampire’s strength -- but Duncan wouldn’t have wanted to be on the receiving end of that swing.
The huge werewolf retreated from the furious arcs of Masara’s blade, snarling. Walker scrambled up and leaped to help her. He broke step as an even bigger axe appeared in his hand, and he almost dropped it. Glad I’m not the only one who fumbles Masara’s passes, Duncan thought.
Unfortunately, the rogue was a good foot taller than the Dire Wolf cop -- which made him two feet taller than Duncan. Hulkwolf had dagger claws and teeth like spikes, and the red eyes glowing in his massive head looked feral and mad.
I’m going to get killed, gibbered a voice from Duncan’s mental coward gallery.
Legs ain’t free. He threw himself at the monster wolf in a ten-foot vampire bound, axe raised in both hands…
Something clamped around his ankle and snatched him out of the air. Sky and earth wheeled around him as he flew like a tossed tennis ball. The ground seemed to explode in his face, slamming his head against the inside of his helmet. He bounced over the pavement like a rock in a blender, the ax flying. When the bouncing stopped, Duncan stared at the night sky, stunned and disoriented. What the hell just happened?
Which was when he realized the clicking he heard was the sound of claws running on pavement. Toward him.
Oh, fuck.
Chapter Three
Even as Ma
sara circled the Dire Wolf, she glimpsed a flurry of movement: Duncan leaping high, battle-axe raised. Something pale lunged out of the dark, grabbed him by one leg and sent him flying across the parking lot like a comet. He hit the pavement hard enough to kill anyone mortal. Oh, sweet Lord Jesus! “Duncan!”
“Help him! I’ll take care of this bastard,” Walker roared, as he ducked a swipe of the Dire Wolf’s claws, then forced his foe to retreat with a flurry of axe swings.
She whirled and raced toward Duncan, who -- thank the Lord -- was up and scrambling across the pavement on his hands and knees, trying to recover his fallen axe. A second rogue werewolf ran after him, fanged maw gaped wide. This one’s graying fur seemed to glow in the moonlight. “Avalon!” Masara roared, as much to distract Duncan’s attacker as anything else.
“And there you are, my prey!” The Dire Wolf -- a female, judging by the breasts -- whipped around and slashed at her.
Claws raked across her chest, accompanied by cold, tearing pain. Jerking away, Masara saw deep gouges marked her armor. Blood oozed from the wounds. My new armor!
The female bared her teeth. “I have such plans for you.” She lunged, snapping jaws splattering Masara’s faceplate with saliva.
Masara swung the battle-axe up in a diagonal backhand stroke that forced the Dire Wolf to leap back. The rogue female circled, snarling, as Masara activated the communication spell on her helm with a shout. “Belle! We need backup! We’re under Dire Wolf attack.” She felt the spell punch into the Mageverse, establishing a connection with Belle’s spelled phone.
“What?” The French Maja’s voice rang inside her helm, sharp with alarm. “Where are you?”
“Mortal Earth. Two big Dire Wolves, one male, one female. The third armored wolf is Walker. The rogues can punch through scale mail with their claws.”
“Okay, okay, I’ve got a fix on your location. We’re on our way. Hang on!”
“Hey, Hulkbitch!” Duncan yelled. He’d recovered his battle-axe and was on his feet, though he reeled a little, his face pale behind the transparent visor. Still, he wore a snarl of grim determination as he closed on the much larger Dire Wolf. “Back off, butt sniffer. You won’t like me when I’m angry.” He spun the axe between his hands, and moonlight glinted off its blade. “And right now, I’m seriously pissed.”
“I quake.” The big female crouched, watching him come with eyes that glowed crimson in her gray-furred lupine face. She snarled, deep and threatening, lips rolling back off her teeth.
And if this fight keeps up, every cop in the county is going to be headed this way. Masara paused to toss a concealing spell over the whole area, making sure no mortal heard or saw anything.
Duncan leaped for the werewolf, bellowing a challenge as he soared. The rogue female bounded to meet him as he swung his axe. Blood flew in an arc… but as his weapon scored her ribs, her huge fist rammed up into his gut, driving him upward. He tumbled, hitting the ground on his back.
“Duncan!” Masara shouted, and raced toward them.
“Now you die!” The Dire Wolf pounced, both fists crashing into his visor.
“Dream on, Fifi.” He swung the axe at her, but she was inside his guard now and the haft thumped against her ribs. The rogue ignored the blow and started hammering punches into his visor. Duncan bellowed and tried to angle the axe to stab her with its spiked tip, but she pinned his arm with one hand and kept pounding his helmet with the other. His faceplate shattered, and his yell cut off.
“Duncan!” Masara darted in and swung her axe in a furious stroke at the female’s huge, furry head. The monster rolled off Duncan, but Masara chased her, swinging the axe in a glittering figure eight. Blood flew as the axe sliced a furred shoulder. Roaring, the huge Dire Wolf raked her claws down the length of Masara’s arm. She sucked in a scream as claws sliced steel and flesh. As her arm blazed, she almost lost the axe, but caught it in her left hand and swung it backhand.
Snarling, the Dire Wolf retreated, crimson eyes blazing, fangs bared. Masara gripped the axe in both hands and went after her, swinging in vicious arcs even as her injured arm blazed. “Shift, Duncan!” she yelled without looking away from her target. “You need to shift into wolf form!” If he was hurt as badly as she feared, transforming was the only thing that would save his life.
No answer.
Oh, dear Jesus, is he dead? Masara wanted to run to him, but the minute she turned her back, the female would be on her like a chainsaw. “Duncan, shift!”
No answer.
“If he’s hurt, you’re a rug,” she warned the Dire Bitch, leaping into the swing, and this time her axe sliced the rogue across one breast. The monster yelped and danced back, raking the claws of her right hand across Masara’s visor, gouging deep into the magical plastic. Masara instinctively jerked aside… just as the rogue’s left hand whipped up and grabbed her head. All she could see was an enormous palm, fingers wrapping around her helm. The Dire Wolf hauled her skyward and jerked her back and forth, trying to break her neck. The magical armor snapped into a hard shell around her neck and torso, supporting her weight and saving her spine.
Masara swung her axe blindly, only to feel the Dire Wolf grab her weapon and jerk, twisting it out of her hand. She kicked out frantically. Got to end this! Duncan needs…
A dozen deep masculine voices bellowed, “Avalon!”
Masara recognized that chorus. Oh, thank God -- the Knights of the Round Table!
“Later, prey,” the werewolf snarled, and tossed her aside like a discarded doll. Masara bit her tongue as she slammed to the pavement in a bone-rattling armored crash. For a heartbeat she lay stunned, tasting blood and listening to Dire Wolf roars blending with the bellows of a dozen furious knights, all retreating into the distance, as if the wolves had taken to their heels with the vampires in pursuit.
“Duncan?” She tried to move, but her armor was still spelled rigid. A muttered reversal chant made it release. Rolling over, Masara gritted her teeth against the pain in her abused neck and aching arm. She looked around blearily, but claw marks scored the visor. She muttered a spell at the enchanted plastic, and it cleared.
Duncan lay sprawled on his back twenty feet away, his faceplate shattered into a bloody wreck. “No no no…” Masara moaned, staggering to her feet and reeling over to him on legs that shook. This end of the parking lot was empty except for Walker’s SUV, though she could hear shouts and roars from the woods. She hoped someone had thought to cast another cloaking spell, or 911 would be getting some very interesting calls.
Then she got a look at Duncan’s face, and forgot everything else.
* * *
Jack had died and gone to hell. And worse, he’d taken Ellie with him. Nothing made sense, and it was so hard to think. He and Ellie were running through the woods and men were chasing them. Armored men with swords.
Magekind. Why were Magekind chasing them?
Because I did something horrible. Or something had, using his body. Again.
At least Ellie was alive. He’d thought he’d killed her. He’d tried to scream a warning when he’d risen from their bed. Yesterday? The day before? He had no idea.
It had taken all his strength to force open his jaws as he loomed over her. He’d fought to make his fanged mouth shape the word, “Run!” But the only sound that had emerged was an inhuman roar. Then the thing that had stolen his body had fallen on Ellie.
Jack fought to keep from sinking his fangs into her delicate skin, but his body had gone right on attacking the woman he loved. She’d screamed the whole time, begging him to stop as his soul writhed in agony.
Until she’d shifted to Dire Wolf form, raked him across the muzzle, and fled. The usurper chased her into the woods and caught her again. She’d screamed, her eyes filled with horror and betrayal as she tried to fight the monster off. And failed.
The usurper ripped into her as Jack screamed helplessly in his head, unable to stop, unable to wake from this unspeakable nightmare. By the time it finished, she’d lost c
onsciousness, covered in horrific bites. Jack had cried out to her through their Spirit Link, but all he’d felt was her life draining away. He’d waited for her death to kill him too. Prayed for it. But neither of them died. Instead she’d shifted and healed, and he’d thought for glorious moment she was going to be all right. Until he looked into her eyes.
Whatever looked back at him wasn’t his Ellie.
Now the usurper controlled them both, piloting them like one of those remote-controlled drones he’d gotten the grandkids for Christmas. He could feel It in his head like a great spider, ancient and vicious and alien.
After Ellie had regained consciousness, It had let them sleep for a while, their bodies tangled together on a pile of leaves in the woods. Then at dawn It had forced them to go out hunting until they’d found that poor human girl. He’d felt the horror in Ellie’s mind as they’d caught the girl, dragged her out into a nearby field, and killed her. She’d shrieked in pain and horror, Jack and Ellie screaming right along with her in their Spirit Link.
Now they’d attacked Walker and two people who smelled like Magekind, and armored knights were chasing them. None of it made any sense. As he ran, Jack prayed the Magekind would catch them and kill them before It made them do something even worse.
* * *
The werewolf’s punch had caved in Duncan’s visor, slicing up his handsome face. What Masara could see of his bloody features looked badly swollen and misshapen. He must have suffered major head trauma at the very least. With a savage gesture, she banished both their helmets, then disposed of her own gloves the same way. Groping for his carotid, she found it throbbing, too fast and too weak.
“Duncan. Duncan.” She had to work to keep the panic out of her voice. I’ve failed him. I’ve gotten him killed. “Duncan, wake up and shift.”
“Hey.” Belle’s husband, Sir Tristan, emerged from the woods. “Is he okay?” The Knight of the Round Table wore heavy plate combat armor worked with intricate spells.
Masara shot her friend a desperate glance. “No. He’s not conscious and I can’t get him to shift. Did you get the rogues?”
Master of Valor (Merlin's Legacy 2) Page 4