Devil Hunters (Tales of the Crypto-Hunter Book 2)

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Devil Hunters (Tales of the Crypto-Hunter Book 2) Page 3

by Rick Gualtieri


  “You’re right.” She stood up. “I’m going to see if I can grab a signal and sign on.”

  “No cheating,” Derek admonished as she walked away.

  “Yes, Dad,” came the reply back.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Though she rankled a little at Derek’s parental tone, deep down, Danni had to admit it wasn’t bad to have a surrogate father figure around. Under different circumstances, being the lone female in a group of guys – more often than not far from civilization – could have been a daunting prospect. Fortunately, she had lucked out. Francis was happily married to his high school sweetheart. Mitchell was single but also a stringent workaholic – far more interested in their case files than his social life.

  That left Derek. Though sixteen years her senior, he was smart, brave, and good-looking. Had he acted any differently toward her, she wasn’t entirely certain she would have been turned off by the prospect. Certainly many of the female fans of their show thought the same way, based on the opinions left in online forums.

  However, he had quickly nipped any such thoughts in the bud, taking on a decisively parental attitude with her from the very start.

  Danni understood. Though Derek didn’t talk about it much, and usually tried his best to keep an upbeat tone, he still felt guilty over the events that had led to her joining the team. It was a feeling she shared. After all, her beloved brother Harrison had saved both their lives from the rabid beasts which had threatened them all, only to then be taken away from her forever.

  Though Derek had offered her a spot on the team afterward, he had never quite gotten used to exposing her to the dangers the job entailed ... something her actions today didn’t help. Still, there was no way around it. They all answered to a higher power, the U.S. government, and in doing so had signed on to put themselves at risk for the good of others.

  She pushed those thoughts from her head once she reached her quarters and unpacked her laptop. Though stable internet access wasn’t exactly common this far north, the risks of her job also came with some perks – such as the portable high-gain satellite dish currently mounted on top of the building.

  As the computer booted up and established a connection, Danni turned to the framed photograph of her brother that she brought along on every mission. “We got another one, Harrison. Wherever you are, I hope I’m making you proud.” She said a quick prayer, then turned to her work. Though she would eternally love her brother, she also realized he’d be pissed if she spent her days moping around because of him. She had a life to live and planned on doing so ... even while facing creatures that mostly wanted to end it.

  Living that life, however, meant dealing with the more mundane aspects of it. In joining Derek’s crew, Danni had accepted that she’d be leaving her college career behind. A life on the road wouldn’t leave a lot of time for pursuing her degree ... or so she had thought.

  Not so. Danni’s parents, still grieving over her brother, had absolutely flipped out at the thought. Unbeknownst to her at the time, they had approached Derek about it. The end result: in addition to all the work she put in for the show and their missions, she also had to take online classes to keep up with her courses. Derek had made that a non-negotiable condition of staying on the team.

  Oh, well. As much as the extra work could suck at times, at least Uncle Sam was now footing the bill. All in all, things could have been far worse.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Derek excused himself earlier than usual. Danni had been right about the local swill tasting like fermented whale urine. A few shots in and he was pretty certain he’d be regretting it come morning. Not that it mattered to him much. A slight hangover was pretty light penance for this type of work.

  He stepped outside to make the short walk back to the bunkhouse he, Francis, and Mitchell were sharing, but quickly scanned the skies first. His right hand came up and checked for the reassuring weight of the shoulder holster and snub-nosed Ruger it held. These were the moments, the lull following a mission, that haunted his dreams. Though the Bonanza Creek massacre had been an extreme aberration, he never again wanted to make the same mistake. He’d let his guard down and, as a result, a lot of good people had died. Though he knew the chances of a flock of teratorns swooping down upon the village to avenge their fallen comrade were as close to zero as statistically possible, that didn’t mean he wanted to be caught unawares.

  Derek looked skyward for one more moment then blew out a sigh. He knew he needed to stop torturing himself. The past year had been busy, but mostly successful. They’d completed several missions without a single hitch, even with one of their team being a rookie.

  He considered that. Danni had definitely made a rookie mistake earlier, one that had nearly scared him to death. But the truth of the matter was she’d been right. There was a good chance they’d have missed their window of opportunity had she not offered herself up as live bait, something he couldn’t pretend to have never done. Calculated risk was a part of the job, and it wasn’t like she was just some kid in off the streets.

  After recruiting her, he’d called in some favors and sent her to Fort Bragg for several weeks of intense training. Since then, she had more than proven her worth. What she lacked in experience, she made up for with hard work and bravado. Despite her age, their backers had granted her a badge and a sufficient clearance rating for field work – albeit she was still considered an agent-in-training.

  There was also the fact that she got along well with the others, fitting right in. Heck, Frank’s wife had practically adopted her.

  They’d gotten lucky in that the show’s producers loved her, too. She was personable and worked well on camera. It also didn’t hurt that she hadn’t punched out any of their fans, as Chuck Wayans, their former tracker, had been known to do on occasion.

  All of that aside, though, Derek couldn’t help shake the feeling that his actions had pulled her away from the life she’d been meant to live – a life where she could see her friends on the weekend and indulge in a steady boyfriend. One in which she didn’t have to worry about nightmare creatures constantly trying to disembowel her.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Derek reached the bunkhouse, took one last look at the empty sky, and stepped in. Tomorrow, they’d pack up their things and take their leave of the elders – who’d been exceptionally pleased at the gift of the creature’s claw. After that, it was time to move on to their next assignment.

  Fortunately, official missions didn’t always coincide with their production schedule. Cryptids weren’t always running amuck and killing people. As a result, a good portion of their travels involved little more than shooting wilderness footage, interviewing locals, and making sure to steer clear of any conclusive evidence.

  They planned on flying down to Wisconsin next to film an episode on the monster of Bray Road, the scene of purported werewolf sightings. Derek had studied the evidence and concluded it had all the hallmarks of misidentification. A couple of people had been spooked by something, probably a bear, and from there the story had taken on a life of its own. Then, years later, a cleverly hoaxed film had reignited interest in the subject. All in all, it was a cakewalk. They’d do a night hunt and then reanalyze the evidence, leaving just enough doubt for the next group of investigators who wanted to come along and give it some attention.

  Or at least, that’s what he assumed they’d be doing.

  Derek entered his room with the intent of sacking out, but instead saw the blinking light on their satellite phone, indicating a message had been left. The phone was government issued. His producers neither had its number nor knew of its existence. That wasn’t good. His contacts typically didn’t call to shoot the breeze.

  “What now?” he mumbled to himself as he picked it up and started dialing.

  CHAPTER 3

  “Hello, Derek.” There was some interference – this far north, the aurora borealis could make even satellite connections a bit flakey – but the smooth voice at the other end was unmistakable.
>
  “Calling a little late, aren’t you, Norah?”

  “Not really. It’s not even dusk down here in D.C., and can we please keep this professional?”

  Derek inwardly sighed. “Sorry, Agent Caseman.”

  “Thank you. Now, Derek, we have a...”

  “Dr. Jenner.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You just said to keep this professional. Derek sounds so informal. Almost like ... you were my best friend’s wife.”

  “Ex-wife,” she snapped.

  “I thought the papers hadn’t been signed yet.”

  “I didn’t call to talk about Jacob. Oh, and just for the record, that’s none of your business.”

  Derek allowed himself a momentary smirk. He had always liked Norah, but now with the split happening, he could sense some strain. Unfortunately, couples tended to divide their friends up the same way they did their belongings when they went their separate ways. That she had been recently reassigned as his team’s liaison within the labyrinthine bureaucracy of the U.S. government, well, that had to have been someone’s idea of a karmic joke. “Sorry. I officially rescind the statement.”

  “Accepted,” she said, then hesitated a beat. “You haven’t spoken to him, have you?”

  “Didn’t you just say it was none of my business?”

  “You’re right ... I...”

  “Although, for the record, no. I’ve been too busy hunting Thunderbirds. The cell service kind of sucks up here anyway.”

  There was another pause on the line, then Norah quietly said, “Thank you,” before resuming her official tone. “How goes the hunt?”

  “Fragged and bagged.”

  “Evidence?”

  “Nothing but ash.”

  “Good. I’m sure the villagers are relieved.”

  “It’s definitely a weight off their shoulders. By the way, who exactly are we mollifying by keeping this one quiet? Don’t tell me the Audubon Society has a powerful lobby.”

  “You know I’m not at liberty to say.”

  “Of course not,” Derek replied, unsurprised. The government paid them to cull cryptids – creatures not formally recognized by science – that became a threat to humans. However, they were always mum about their reasons why it needed to be covered up, leading his team to eternally speculate as to the motives behind their work. Their theories ranged from the mundane to the far-out. Francis in particular favored some outlandish ideas about government cover-ups – but that’s all they were, theories. Unfortunately, that information was always on a need to know basis, and Derek apparently didn’t have that need. “Shall I assume this isn’t a social call?”

  “You assume correct. I’m sorry to dump another case on you so soon after finishing one.”

  “No you’re not.”

  Norah allowed herself a small chuckle. “Normally you’d be right, but this one is ... political.”

  “Political?” Derek asked warily. That was new.

  “Yes. The request came directly from Governor Jonas Yarlberg himself.”

  Derek thought for a moment. “Yarlberg ... isn’t he from...”

  “New Jersey.”

  “And he asked for us by name?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re sure this isn’t about a convention appearance? Or maybe he wants us there for the opening of some mall?”

  “Trust me, it’s not that. This is strictly business.”

  “How the hell does some bureaucrat from the Garden State know what we really do?”

  “Relax...”

  “Don’t tell me to relax, Norah. I was under the impression that this was all classified.”

  “It is. Yarlberg has connections. One of his former aides is now a director in the Bureau.”

  “Great. Nice to know that nepotism is alive and well in D.C.”

  “As if it ever wasn’t, but that’s neither here nor there as far as either of us are concerned.”

  “Sorry,” he replied, trying to push down his annoyance. It was only a matter of time, he told himself. So far, most of their dealings with the government had the end result of helping people, but Derek wasn’t stupid. He knew that sooner or later they’d end up getting their hands dirty in the game of politics. “So what’s it about? Far as I know, the only real activity in Jersey is that small squatch clan in the southwest. Last I heard, they’d never bothered anybody. Are they...?”

  “This has nothing to do with them. They’ve been quiet as usual.”

  “So what then?”

  “Apparently they’re trying to control a potential media firestorm.”

  “Go on,” Derek replied, caught unawares. Usually they were given a location, suspected creature, a casualty list, and that was it. That Norah had offered up the actual motivation behind a mission was definitely odd.

  “I don’t have many more details, except that one of their agencies is trying to control a situation before it gets out of hand. From what I’ve heard, they’ve already lost a few people and folks are starting to talk.”

  That was more to the point. Derek couldn’t have cared less about some politician saving face, but if innocent lives were involved... “What’s been going after their people?”

  There was another pause from Norah, then she replied, “They think it was the Jersey Devil.”

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  “It’s not funny, Derek.”

  “You’re kidding, right?” he asked, trying to get his laughter under control.

  “No, they’re dead serious.”

  “C’mon, Norah. If they want us to come in and do an investigation, they should call up the Adventure Channel and schedule something for next season.”

  “It’s not like that. They want you guys there to scare off the real press.”

  “Ouch.”

  “You know what I mean. Do what you have to, so it all seems like a load of BS.”

  “That shouldn’t be hard,” he muttered under his breath.

  “Then, you’re to head into the woods to find and kill this creature so that the affected agency can get back to work.”

  “That should be easy, too, since it doesn’t exist.”

  “Skepticism coming from you?”

  “Oh, please. You have access to the same ... hell, more records than I do. You know about squatches, teratorns, extant zeuglodons, and all the rest.”

  “Obviously.”

  “Then tell me how many legit case files exist on the Jersey Devil.” There was silence on the other end, as he knew there would be. “Exactly. Even in my circles the whole thing is mostly considered a crank. Hell, the stories can’t even get their facts straight. There’s a different description for the damn thing for almost every eyewitness present. You know what that says to me?”

  “Do tell.”

  “It says that maybe the folks who live there should limit their drinking to after ten in the morning.”

  “You can tell them that in person.”

  “Really? You can’t possibly convince me, based on everything you know, that you think...”

  “What we think is irrelevant in this case,” she interrupted. “If you refuse, I’m ... authorized to cut ties with your group.”

 

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