by Helen Scott
VAN HELSING RISING
IMMORTAL HUNTERS MC BOOK ONE
HELEN SCOTT
LACEY CARTER ANDERSEN
CONTENTS
Copyright
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Also By Helen Scott
About the Author
Also by Lacey Carter Andersen
About the Author
Van Helsing Rising
Immortal Hunters MC Book One
Copyright © 2020 by Helen Scott and Lacey Carter Andersen
Cover Design © Luminescence Covers
All rights reserved.
This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author, except for the brief use of quotations in a book review.
This book is intended for adults only. The sexual activities represented in this book are a work of fiction intended for adults. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are used fictitiously by the author. Any resemblance to actual places, events, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
1
Striker
I wave two fingers over my head, gesturing them toward the structure in front of me, and watch as my teammates move silently forward like shadows. It isn't surprising; this is exactly what we have trained for, what we specialize in. We are the hunters in the night, the boogeymen for supes everywhere.
Supernatural beings exist.
But only a select few people know.
It’s our job to help keep it that way and avoid mass panic. It’s also our job to kick ass and ask questions later if the supe in question was causing trouble. The one we have been tracking here seemed completely human except for a couple of instances where he showed above average strength and speed, and not the kind he would get from spending every day in the gym.
When we first followed him here we hadn't expected to find a whole damn compound. Instead of taking him then, we had to fall back and regroup. We’re prepared this time though.
This troublemaker has some explaining to do.
Phoenix and Crash move forward at my signal and everything is going perfectly until a fucking motion-sensitive floodlight comes on, alerting everyone within the area to our presence. The back of my neck tingles, feeling like something is crawling across it, so I know we have people, well, supes, inbound.
"At least three heading this way. Take down silently if possible," I say into the microphone that was wrapped around my neck and resting against each side of my trachea. My voice wouldn't have been audible even to me without the specialized, military-grade headset.
Grunts come in reply through the small earpiece I’m wearing. A moment later the eerie reflection of a shifter's pupils shine in the darkness. They never actually shifted though. I watch from my spot by the tree at the edge of the compound as Crash lands the butt of his gun against the shifter's face. It stuns the enemy just long enough for him to follow up with the hunting knife he keeps at his belt, ending him soundlessly. That shifter is just the first though, and as the sensation across the back of my neck becomes more intense, I know staying hidden is pointless.
"Bogies incoming," Phoenix growls over his com.
"Fire at will," I respond before I move from the trees to catch up with my teammates with Dragon following close behind. Our unit may be small, but we are efficient and ruthless, which is why our President sends us out on missions like this. Now, it’s time to put those skills to good use.
We move to cover, and I sight down my gun, preparing for the attack. They are faster than before, as though they know their scout has fallen. Maybe they could smell the blood? I’m not sure, hell, I’m not even sure what we were dealing with other than at least one shifter. All we had been given coming into this was the layout, and the fact that we knew the supe we had been following previously had been spending his days there. He doesn't live there though, which I find strange.
As soon as one of the enemies steps in my line of fire, I let two rounds fly. The pop-pop sounds in my ear and only serves to push my adrenaline levels higher. This isn't just a one-on-one fight anymore. There are multiple supes, and we don't know what kind. I change clips on my gun, switching from regular bullets to ones with a silver-filled hollow point. Better to be safe than sorry against supes of unknown varieties. Of course, it would be useless against vamps, but if vamps are involved then we’re in serious shit.
Rounds are fired off from Dragon and Phoenix on either side of me. When the first grouping of targets are taken care of, we advance. Cash holds back and makes sure that they are dead, not just injured or faking it. The last thing we need in a situation like this is an enemy at our backs.
I don't envy him the job.
By the time we make it inside the building, we have faced off against two more small groups. As we approach the door, the electronic lock and key pad become my focus as I get ready to pull the small explosive we use in this situation out of my pack. Before I can do anything, Crash’s voice comes over the comms. "Striker, you should see this."
I double back while Dragon and Phoenix guard the door. Crash is standing over the latest body with a flashlight pointing at the thing's face, and what I see in the circle of light makes my stomach turn. The shifter looks like he is frozen mid shift. His face is part wolf, part human. Usually when we take down a shifter they either remain as a wolf or revert back to human, depending on how far gone the shift is. I've never seen one frozen like the one in front of me now.
"Obelisk Research Facility," Crash states as he hands me the security badges he's taken off the bodies.
"Research facility? What the fuck are they researching?" I mutter.
Grunts of surprise sound over the ear piece from Dragon and Phoenix. We hadn't been able to get any info on what exactly this structure is or who owns it. Too many shell companies and paid off officials.
"At least now we know what we're walking into. Nice of them to spell it out," I say with a sigh.
"There may be civilians inside," Crash says, his voice only audible through the ear piece even though we are standing right next to each other.
I nod. "Be aware of civilians and possible innocents."
We walk back to the door together, and I swipe the security badge. It beeps and a red light flashes. They know we are here.
"I tried," I say before placing the explosive I've pulled from my belt on the lock.
We back away, and after a few seconds, the sound of breaking metal reaches my ears. The door easily pulls open after that, the smoking hole where the lock had been making it obvious what’s happened. It doesn't matter anymore though. Stealth is no longer an option, so a full clean-out of this research facility is going to be needed. We have protocols in place for exactly this kind of thing, so it doesn’t worry me.
There is no way for us to open the door without being in the line of fire, so I brace myself as Crash pulls the door open and stands to one side. Almost immediately a bullet hits my vest and it feels like all the air has been knocked out of my lungs. I've experienced it many times before though, so I push the feeling aside and focus on the enemies that are firing at us.
As far as I can see there are no civilians present at this "research facility", just supes with guns and their prisoners. Most of whom look unconscious or dead.
We fan out as we enter the room, firing back. I know at least one of us is bleeding. I can sense it. The pops of rapid gunfire suddenly stop as we realize there is no one left standing other than us. Crash doesn’t waste any time in doing his thing, confirming that they are, in fact, all dead, and if by some chance they’re not, putting them out of their misery. "Want anything off them?" he asks.
"Anything interesting. Also photos, especially any that are half shifted like the one outside so we can show the Prez," I reply. Our president will want to know what the hell was going on here, what this research facility was actually up to. "Hard drives and stuff, too," I add. It might take us a while to decipher or even get into it, but it could be useful in determining if there are other facilities like this one.
Now that I’m sure we are safe and everyone is either dead or will be shortly, I start to look around. Rooms that are essentially prison cells fan out around the center of the room where we are standing.
Each one is occupied with someone who looks like a regular human being, not that I can be sure these days. I've seen too much shit. We aren't in the business of killing innocents though, only those that deserve it. Supe or not. Most supes never draw our attention because there are too many out there fucking up that we stay plenty busy hunting them down.
Letting these people out of their cells without knowing what’s going on isn't on my to-do list though. They could be anything and without proof either way, we have three choices: leave them here to rot, kill them, or take them with us. I slip my phone from my pocket and fire off a text to our president.
Captives found. Status unknown. How would you like us to proceed?
He must have been waiting for us to check in because he responds almost immediately. Bring them to the club house. We will hold them here until we know what they are.
Confirmed.
Great. Now one of us will have to ride back in a cage with Crash. The hard drives could have been shoved in our saddle bags, but people? Not so much. At least we brought it with us though, or this would have been a logistical nightmare. I begin looking in each prison cell more thoroughly and find a few men and a woman. They all look a little worse for wear, but that could just be because they are being kept prisoner. It’s the last cell that catches my eye.
The woman who is unconscious on the bed has ashy-white hair. I've never seen the color on anyone before, and judging from her eyebrows, it’s natural. Her eyes are closed but she seems to be breathing okay, and there’s no way someone could just sleep through what had just happened, so I know she has to be knocked out somehow. My eyes drift down to her lush lips that look pouty even in sleep and a lithe body that is sinful just to look at.
I tear my gaze away. Distractions like that are dangerous. The last cell on the other side is a man almost as dark as she is fair, except for his pasty skin. Six prisoners to transport, along with whatever evidence we can gather from here. I don't like it, but those are the Prez's orders so that's what we will do.
"Crash, take what you've got and go get the cage. We need handcuffs for each prisoner; they are all coming back with us. Dragon, Phoenix, get these doors open while I keep looking for anything useful. Let's get this done quickly since we don't know when or if these people will wake up, or what we are dealing with."
Three nods respond to me before Crash disappears out of the door with an armful of tablets and various computer bits and pieces. I walk over to the closest body and toe it over so the man is facing up. His face is similar to the half shifted wolf outside, except he’s more feline in his features. His badge reads Dr. Clauberg. What was he doing? The questions only seem to mount as I walk around the room.
Eventually, I find the man we've been tailing that led us here. His badge reads Dr. Mengele. That can’t be right. One coincidence I'm willing to overlook, but two? Not to mention the names of the Nazi doctors were well known enough that these had to be fakes. Right? I'd need to confirm as soon as we got back to the clubhouse that neither of the doctors had been suspected of being supes and that they were, in fact, dead.
Just to be on the safe side, I pull my phone out from the pocket in my tactical vest and snap a photo of the two doctors, making sure to get their name badges in frame. Knowing the guys, if I start spouting conspiracy theories about Nazi doctors without proof they’ll laugh their asses off.
A chill goes down my spine as their names circle the questions in my head. Are all these people experiments? I hope one of them wakes up soon and is willing to talk, but not until we get back. As though my thoughts summon him, Crash appears with a plethora of handcuffs hanging from his fingers.
"Who wants to get kinky?" he asks with a wink.
2
Dragon
I sit in the back of the van, guarding the victims in cages. The cloth in my hand slides along my gun, cleaning it as I study the bodies we’d found in that fucked-up “research” facility. I honestly don’t know why we took these flesh bags with us. It seems it would’ve been a mercy to kill most of them. With two exceptions. There is some massive guy, who could easily be one of us, and a blonde goddess, who might just live. But the rest of them? They are a bunch of thin, sickly, half-dead creatures.
Orders are orders though.
Most of them probably won’t last the night. Whatever the hell those scientists were doing to them, these creatures feel like bodies without souls. Like already the fucking grim reaper himself has carted off that essential part that makes a person…human. I can’t even bring myself to see them as people. Because if any of these people die, I’ll take this as a failure.
And I can’t take more failures in my life.
Across my shoulder is a tattoo, a mark for every person who died because I wasn’t good enough, fast enough, or smart enough. I’d learned a long time ago that I’d end up covering my body with marks if I didn’t learn to differentiate between those lives I had to hold myself responsible for and those lives that were just a scattering of dust from this world. Souls lost and forgotten, not even remembered by me.
As if my dark thoughts brought death himself, I watch as one of the men rolls onto his side and barfs, foamy white exploding from his lips and leaking beneath him. His eyes open, and two white eyes glow eerily in the darkness.
“Be careful, Slayer,” he rasps. “She is an abomination.” And then he makes a horrible sound, a painful coughing that rises from his belly.
When his eyes dull, I stretch my senses out, finding what I already know. His heart has stopped. His words were probably just the nonsense of a dying man who had been through hell in that facility.
My stomach flips, but I look away from him. His death isn’t on me. It’s the responsibility of those bastard scientists, or whatever the fuck they were.
I don’t mean to look at the goddess again, but I do. She’s in a cage by herself. Somehow, I can’t bring myself to stuff her into the other two cages with the sickly-looking people.
My mind slides to the moment I’d walked into her cell and spotted her lying on that cold, stone bed. Her skin was pale and so damn cold to the touch that I thought she was dead. But then her chest ha
d risen, and I’d been startled enough to pause in my task.
Her face is stunning. I mean, so hot that if she walked into our bar every man would lose his damn mind. And it doesn’t help that her body is incredible. I’m a man who appreciates beauty in all forms: curvy-as-fuck, thin, short, tall. I just like my women confident. But this woman, she is something else altogether.
I think my dick would get hard for her if she is dumb as a doorknob, and that is saying something. I hate my women dumb.
The van rolls to a stop, and I put my gun away and tear my gaze from the beautiful blonde. In my mind, I’m already trying to forget her. Even though there’s something about her that makes me think she isn’t on death’s door like the others, logic says it’ll just be a matter of time before she’s dead too.
It’s a shame.
But not my problem.
I hear the gates to our compound open and know that if I had windows, I’d spot our bar. This late on a Friday night, it’s probably full of the guys, and any friends or family they trust. Bikes will be parked around the whole damn place, with a few odd cars here and there as well, and old rock will be playing while Gunner, our bartender, fills up beer after beer. Just the thought of my favorite dark beer makes my mouth feel dry, but I straighten my back and push the desire away.
It isn’t time for fun. Not yet.
We drive for a few more minutes, and I know the gate surrounding the more private area of the compound will be opening, after security gets a good look at us. This gate’s almost soundless. A slight noise that a human would never hear, but my keen ears pick up. And then we’re rolling forward again.
When we finally stop, it only takes a moment for the engine to die and the doors in the back of the van to open. I rise instantly and my twin opens the door, his gaze snapping to the blonde. I study him when I see a flash of relief come and go in his hazel eyes. That’s not good.
“They’re meat bags,” I tell him, my voice coming out rougher than I intended.