But this Reaper didn't belong to either one of them. From the looks of the partially missing jaw and the unnatural tilt of its head, he wasn’t sure it was going to live much longer. Even with its regeneration abilities, Haas thought its injuries were likely too grave to recover from. He felt an overwhelming sense of curiosity spring forward. If there was another like Giles or him in this area, he needed to know who it was. Especially if they were going to avoid a future battle with this unknown Alpha. If this other Alpha had a large amount of troops, then Giles and he could be in trouble.
Haas involuntarily shuddered. It was a not-so-subtle reminder. Hiding out in this area meant they lacked a large pool of humans to turn into their own personal army.
“You're hurt.” Haas thought as he reached out mentally to the injured soldier. He saw the creature stiffen, and it let out a low, pained growl.
Haas had stepped out of the shadows into plain view. He deliberately made a calming motion with his hands.
“Easy,” Haas thought in the best soothing voice he could transmit. “What happened?”
The creature let out several small yelps, then collapsed onto the ground.
Haas carefully worked his way over. The creature's face had taken on a pale coloring, and it was struggling to stay on its feet.
“Let me help you,” Haas said aloud. “I can take the pain away.”
Haas wasn't sure what he was doing, so he just let his instincts dictate his movements. He placed his hand on an injured soldier’s forehead, reaching into its mind to gain what information what he could. As he reached into the injured creature's mind, he saw a series of flashbacks to when this former human had been transformed into its current state.
“What are you doing?” a new voice demanded. Haas immediately yanked his hand back like he’d touched a hot stove.
That voice. He knew that voice. Haas felt a wave of fear sweep over him, and he fought to keep the feeling from overwhelming him. If his gut feeling was right, then he had no choice but to find out why this soldier was doing in this area.
He reached back into the creature's mind far more aggressively this time. Haas felt the downed soldier’s body stiffen and ignored it. His need to know more far outweighed any concern he had for this Reaper’s mental well-being.
Haas began to push through its memories. He saw this creature and its packmates receive the order to go find someone. He heard the name repeated again and again. Fos-ter. Fos-ter.
Haas saw the battle that they had been in. How this young creature had been shot more than once. There was a bullet lodged in its neck, and its jaw was missing. None of its injuries were healing. But why?
Even before he had been transformed, he hadn’t ever gotten any medical training, and he felt the lack of understanding as he tried probing the minion’s injuries. He probed deeper into the soldier’s neck with his claws. He could feel the bullet. It was definitely lodged in between two pieces of bone in its neck. An old memory surfaced and told him the word he was looking for. The bullet was stuck between two vertebrae. It had to be why the soldier’s body wasn’t healing the injury.
Then another memory surfaced. One that told him that removing the bullet with his unskilled fingers might paralyze the poor soldier permanently.
As he was probing the soldier’s neck, he heard the same voice again.
“I asked what you’re doing. Answer me.” Then a moment later, the voice said “Haas? Is that you?”
Haas felt a wave of terror wash over him. He’d definitely raised the attention of this soldier’s master. Horatio Beeks was probably the last person he’d ever thought he’d cross paths with again. He wanted to run away and hide. But first he needed to do something to cover his tracks so they couldn’t find him.
The creature let out a low series of moans.
“Yes, that's right,” Haas said aloud. “I did promise you I would help with the pain.” He stared into the soldier’s eyes as he reached over with both hands, grabbed the creature’s damaged head, and yanked it forcefully to the side. There was a loud snap and crunching of bones. He kept pulling its head sideways until he felt the spinal cord sever. Haas didn’t let go until there was no longer any sign of life in the minion's eyes. He carefully lowered its body and head to the ground. Haas reached over and closed its eyelids. The soldier’s body was still. It was finally at peace, but Haas felt anything but calm right now. He looked around to see if anyone else had seen what he had done. The coast was still clear, and he started to head back the way he'd come.
The information he’d discovered was quite troubling. He needed to find a way to share it with Giles without panicking his friend. That wouldn't be an easy thing to do. Giles was not a fighter by any stretch of the imagination. Even so, the chances of survival for them and their own small group of soldiers hung in the balance. If they were going to survive, Haas and Giles were going to have to make some very important decisions in the near future.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Malice paced nervously back and forth. The recent battle with Foster and his friends had wiped out most of the troops with him. Just as bad, the humans had split up and were hunting them. Malice and a handful of his soldiers had taken refuge on the upper floor of some nearby buildings. He had ordered all of them to stay silent. Now was the hard part: waiting until Foster and his gang left the area, thinking they had won. There was no way to twist the facts in his head. He’d gone against Fos-ter and lost badly again.
Malice felt a wave of anger surging forward. Every ounce of his being wanted to scream out in frustration, but he clenched his teeth instead. He mashed his teeth until there was a loud crack and something shifted inside his mouth. He opened his mouth, reached in, and removed a broken tooth. He tossed the fractured tooth across the room. He ran his tongue around in his mouth and felt the remaining part of his teeth was already growing and repair itself.
“Malice, where are you?” Beeks called out in his head.
Malice startled in place. “Somewhere hidden,” he answered. “Why?”
“One of your soldiers was accessed by another Alpha. Care to explain?”
Malice’s mind began to race. If he told the truth, then his chances of continuing to lead his own soldiers would likely be over. There had to be some way to twist the facts in his favor. “I have several scouts in the area,” Malice lied. “Perhaps one of them ran into trouble before they could alert me?”
“What kind of trouble?”
“Nothing I can’t handle,” Malice said. At that moment, an idea popped into his head. It was a little risky but it could be the way out of this mess. He had to steer this conversation carefully and make Beeks think sending reinforcements was his own idea. Malice took a calming breath and then added, “Master, I have found him.”
“Found who?”
“Fos-ter. I am awaiting your orders, sir.”
“How many are with him?” Beeks said.
“Not many. Maybe five or six.”
“Hmm. You should be able to take them. But still, with what happened before, we can't be too careful.”
Every ounce of Malice’s spirit wanted to speak up. To tell his master that he could still handle things here on his own. But he swallowed his pride and forced himself to stay silent.
“Instruct your troops to stay where they are,” Beeks commanded. “I'm sending more family to help you.”
“Yes, my Lord. We will not fail you.”
“See that you don’t,” Beeks snarled. And then his voice was gone.
Malice turned toward the soldiers in the room.
“Our master is sending reinforcements,” he mentally commanded. “Stay hidden, and be quiet until they arrive.”
A series of whisperlike grunts answered him in reply.
For the first time in hours, Malice smiled. His master was sending more soldiers there. And once they arrived, he would lead hundreds, maybe even thousands of loyal soldiers into battle to finally kill Fos-ter.
The two men were back on the gunsho
p’s second floor. While the store below was only one floor until the strip mall, the second floor appeared to run the length of the enter center, with multiple closed doors. Foster and Walker had begun the slow process of opening each door they came across and clearing the space behind it. They were about halfway across the space when Foster saw Walker's fist shoot up.
“What is it?” Foster whispered. Walker pointed toward the floor. There were several footprints in the dust that had accumulated. Each one had a distinctive shape, like a large animal had been through there. “Recent or old?”
Walker shrugged his shoulders. “No way to tell.”
“Right,” Foster said. “Best to take it slow.”
The two men worked their way carefully forward. Walker's fist shot up once more, and Foster froze in place. He watched as Walker pointed out a chunk of fur stuck on a door frame. Walker gestured where he wanted Foster to move. Foster responded with a quick thumbs up, then moved to the left side of the door frame. He hugged the frame with his body, bringing his rifle up to ready position. He looked up and saw Walker mirror him on the opposite side. Walker held up three fingers and slowly counted down.
At zero, Foster reached out, grabbed the door handle, and opened it. Walker immediately stepped through and hooked to his left and Foster followed right behind him.
As Foster cleared the doorway, he spotted seven Reapers in the large room. There was one near a closed door at the back of the room which caught his eye. The creature was wearing some type of red cape. One of the Reapers let out a roar, and Foster immediately sprung into action, firing a double-tap into the nearest Reaper. He heard gunfire to his right and instinctively knew that Walker had joined the fight.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
With a practiced motion, Foster unleashed a barrage of lead at the closest Reaper. There was an immediate avalanche of gore that exited the back of the monster's head, and it dropped dead in a heap. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a new movement. He turned toward it, bringing his weapon around as he looked for the next hostile to shoot. He saw a red cape moving through the now open door at the opposite side of the room. Foster unleashed a burst of bullets, hoping to stop the fleeing monster.
“Clear,” Walker said.
“I'm going after him,” Foster said.
“Wait, what?” Walker yelled.
“That’s a red eye. We take him out, we kill all of his troops instantly.”
“Damn it, Malcolm,” Walker said. “Hold on a minute,” Walker said.
Foster charged ahead. He lowered his shoulder, smashing it into the door that was starting to close. He immediately realized he was back in the hallway. Foster moved forward, scanning for the red-eyed Reaper. He came to the first doorway to the left, hugged the frame, listened, and then stepped into the room. Foster did a circle sweep and cleared the room. As he stepped out of the room, he saw Walker approaching.
“I told you to wait,” Walker scolded. “I had to make sure all of those hostiles were definitely dead before we left the room.”
“Sorry.”
“Uh-huh. Let's clear these together,” Walker said. “No crazy hero shit, Foster.” He moved to the left side of the doorframe.
Foster went to the opposite side and brought his rifle up into a shooting position. Walker began to count from three to zero, dropping a finger with each number. He had reached one when the wall suddenly collapsed onto him with a loud bang.
“Nick,” Foster yelled. The hallway was filled with dust and dirt, and he struggled to see what was happening around him. As the dust started to clear, he saw part of the wall was lying across Nick’s chest. The former Ranger was unconscious and lightly bleeding from a small cut on his forehead.
There was a sudden flash of movement, and something knocked Foster to the ground. He scrambled to get back on his feet as a red cape went flying past him into a new office space. The area was nearly bare except for a single desk positioned in the corner. There were no other doors out of the space. Foster fired at the trapped Reaper, the bullets striking the monster in the back and the shoulder. The creature snarled and spun, facing its attacker.
Foster moved into the office, bringing his rifle up once more to fire. He pulled the trigger, and the weapon clicked dry. He instinctively reached for another magazine and discovered he had fired his last one.
“You,” the Reaper said. “I've been looking for you.”
“Well, you found me,” Foster said.
“You killed my brother.”
“Yeah? You’re gonna have to give me more than that. I’ve killed a lot of you assholes.”
The Reaper growled loudly.
“Okay, fine. We’ll do this the hard way. What should I call you?”
“I am Malice. Prepare to die.”
“I don't think so,” Foster said. He let the rifle drop and immediately reached for his holstered Glock. As he brought the weapon up to fire, the Reaper leapt into action. Foster managed to clear the holster before the Reaper's shoulder slammed into him, knocking him awkwardly onto the floor. As his elbow slammed into the unforgiving floor, a wave of pins and needles sensation flooded through his arm. He felt his fingers spasm open, and the Glock fell out of his hand.
Foster quickly scrambled back, narrowly missing catching a strike aimed at his face. Malice's claws hit the carpeting beside him and a flurry of fibers went up in the air. Foster crabbed sideways, moving to create some space between him and the red-eyed Reaper. He managed to get back onto his feet and shifted into a crouch, waiting for the Reaper’s next attack.
“I'm going to kill you,” Malice said.
“Keep talking, fur ball,” Foster said.
Malice roared and charged toward Foster once more. Foster waited until the last moment, then pivoted to the side. As Malice charged past him, Foster added an additional push, shoving the monster into the desk. The monster's head and shoulders slammed into the furniture, and it crumpled like it was made out of toothpicks. The Reaper shook his head, momentarily dazed, let out a roar, turned, and faced Foster again.
This time, Foster shifted into a fighting stance. He needed to create some space and catch his breath while he could. The more that he could get this monster to chase after him, the quicker it would tire.
Foster studied the red-eyed Reaper in front of him. Malice was even larger than he remembered. The creature easily had fifty pounds and four inches on Foster. Going to the ground with this creature would likely be a fatal mistake. Foster decided then and there he’d try and fight from a distance until he saw a chance to use the silver dagger to end the fight for good.
Malice stalked toward him, and Foster threw a quick jab, striking the Reaper in the nose. He saw the creature's head snap back. He fired a second jab, and this time, there was a loud crunch as its nose gave way. The creature let out a yelp of pain and took a step back. Foster watched in amazement as the monster's nose slowly shifted back into place, and it grinned at him, showing blood on the front of its teeth.
“My turn,” Malice said. He threw an overhead strike toward Foster's head, which looked like a blur coming toward him. Foster spun to the side, feeling the rush of air go past his left ear. He quickly fired a counter punch, striking the monster in the short ribs. Malice grunted and immediately turned and grabbed Foster with his massive hands.
Foster felt the monster’s power, and his adrenaline spiked. He really didn’t want to go to the ground with this monster. Foster blocked the takedown attempt and immediately brought a knee up, slamming Malice in the groin. He drew his knee back once more and slammed it into the Reaper’s groin again. This time, Foster felt the monster's body weight go up in the air, and the monster yelped in pain. Malice’s body instinctively doubled over, and his hands immediately released. The monster staggered back a few steps, stood up slowly, and growled, “Not nice.”
“Shut up and fight,” Foster said. Foster drew the dagger and shifted into a fighting stance. Malice grinned and raised his hand, showing his claws. Foster felt the bile
rush up the back of his throat from his stomach and swallowed hard, pushing it back down. He needed to create an opening, but how?
Foster jabbed with the dagger, and Malice quickly retreated. He moved to close the distance, jabbing with the dagger again. Once again, Malice moved easily away. Foster swung the dagger in an arc, and Malice easily sidestepped and swung his own counterstrike with the claws. Foster felt them slice the front of his vest and yelled in surprise. He quickly retreated, grabbing his side, checking for injury. The flak jacket had protected him from the worst of the damage, but he could feel a slight tenderness on the skin. He didn't have time to check if he had been hurt badly. But it was blatantly obvious: What he was doing wasn't working.
Foster holstered the dagger, switching tactics once more. He put his hands up in boxing stance.
Malice let out a noise that sounded like laughter.
Foster grinned. “Your brother thought he could fight me like a man. You should have heard him crying like a baby as I kicked his ass.”
Malice roared and charged toward Foster. Foster sidestepped and snapped a punch, striking the Reaper in the ear as it went past. The monster roared in pain and staggered sideways. Foster danced backward, staying light on his feet. He glanced at his surroundings and saw that he was close to cornering himself, and quickly moved sideways to avoid getting cornered. Malice charged him once more, and Foster stepped to the opposite side this time, firing another jab, hitting the monster in the temple. The blow staggered Malice slightly, and he crashed into the desk again, obliterating what was left of it.
Malice wobbled to his feet, and as his legs straightened, Foster fired a side kick into the side of the monster’s knee. He felt the leg crumble sideways, and the Reaper immediately howled in pain. Malice dropped to one knee, clutching his injured joint. As he did, Foster pulled the silver dagger and swung it around, slamming it home in the back of Malice's shoulder. The monster immediately stiffened in pain. Foster yanked the dagger loose and slammed it into the side of the Reaper's neck. The creature let out a small whimper and crumpled to the ground.
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