by JK Cooper
“I'm on my way to the manor now. How quickly can you get there?”
“I just put in a new batch of chicken!”
“Bubba, this is real. Get yourself over there now and do whatever you can to get a hold of Kale or Elias or anyone. And bring all the chicken you want. You might need it.”
Bubba's stomach started to flip. “This for real?”
“Yes.”
Bubba pouted at the chicken in the oven. “It won't be done for about 75 minutes. But I got about ten Snickers bars I can bring.”
“Bring those. Just be ready to do whatever it is you do,” Grant said. “And Bubba?”
“Yeah, Mr. B?”
“If we survive, you gotta rethink your business name. Kale’s right. Super Fly Chicken sucks.”
Elias rushed into his office and threw aside a painting that covered a wall safe. He tore the key from a line around his neck and opened the safe’s door, then paused. He stared at the blue velvet wrap that concealed an object from his past, one he always knew he might use again.
Gennesaret stood in the threshold to the office. “Are you sure it’s him?”
Elias nodded. “Sadie has shown me.”
Kale and Shelby crowded the doorway. “What’s going on?” they asked in unison.
“Something that should have ended a long time ago,” Elias said. He snatched the velvet covering with the hard object inside and shoved it in the waistband of his pants at the small of his back. His eyes glowed with flares of gold. He made to push past his wife, but Genn grabbed his arm.
“Elias . . .”
He stared into her eyes, emotion welling inside him. He cupped her face with his large palm. “I have always loved you, Gennesaret. You grounded me. Forged me into the man I am.”
“Wait,” she said softly. “Wait until others can go with you.”
“She needs me,” he said. “She’s hurt.” He swallowed hard. “I did this. I put her in harm’s way.”
“What are you talking about?” Shelby said, but then she knew. Sadie’s leaving was not leaving at all. “You . . . sent her to infiltrate the Advent pack. And she’s hurt?”
Elias felt Shelby’s accusation through the pack link. “I will not justify myself to a member of my pack! Not even an Omega!”
Shelby flinched. Kale stepped in front of Shelby, and Elias saw the challenge in his eyes. That made him proud.
“Your packmate needs your help,” Elias said. He softened, but remained intense. “As does your Alpha. Are you coming?”
Kale nodded. “Yes, we’re coming.”
The sound of helicopters swooping overhead demanded their attention. Sounds of automatic weapons’ fire shattered the silence of the night. Elias sneered.
“Ackerman will handle the Hunters. Let’s go.”
Sadie scampered across a dry creek bed, pain shooting through her left hind leg. The blood dried against her coat and the skin sealed where Otto had gashed her, but the pain of the wound still lingered. She slipped and rolled, the Isluxua jostling in its leather case. They really need to make a backpack designed for werewolves!
Otto slashed out at her again. He was so close! Nearly on top of her. His claws raked the satchel and tore it, but the hole was too small for the book to fall free. She barked her warnings at Otto, gnashing her fangs at him. He retreated only a step, baring his own fangs. The depth of his growl made Sadie want to cower, but she held her ground. He towered over her by at least a hand of height, but he did not have her agility.
Otto lunged, arms outstretched, fangs bared, eyes narrow with hate. He must have stretched eight feet at full extension. In that split second that Otto flew through the air, Sadie changed her coat to match the creek bed and ducked his attack. Otto slammed into the sandy shoreline of the creek and tumbled into sagebrush. He came up from his roll whirling around, searching for her.
The ruse would not hold, Sadie knew. She darted again toward Copeland Manor, letting instinct guide her. Her paws beat a frantic path as she propelled herself faster than she had ever sprinted before. But, she weakened; her strength drained.
What’s happening?
She fought, but it suddenly felt as if she were wading through deep water.
Athena.
It’s not real! she told herself. Come on Lexi, push through it!
She heard Otto’s snarl a heartbeat before he pounced on her. Rolling, she clawed at him, raking her paws against his chest and belly as he stood over her. He put a paw on her chest and pressed, ignoring her attacks as though they were merely the pesky bites of a horsefly. She squirmed, tried to roll, but Otto’s strength was incredible. He might as well have laid a hundred sandbags on her.
Drooling his thick anticipation, Otto brought his snout to her neck, daring her to move. She didn’t.
I failed. I’m sorry Elias. Part of her had known she would fail. Of course she would. She was only Swearing Sadie, just some redhead that most ignored. She wasn’t good at anything, never had been. And she had freckles. The Alpha Prime was right: her snarky attitude was just a front to try and hide her insecurities.
You are more, Sadie.
Her heart fluttered. Shelby? Then she cried out through the pack link. Shelby! Rain started falling. She heard the soft patter of drops striking the sandy soil.
Fight, Sadie. We’re coming.
I . . . I’m not worth saving.
Don’t be so copulating dramatic.
You don’t know what I’ve done . . . what I had to do, Sadie said.
And yet, we’re still coming for you. Now fight!
She felt it. Power in her muscles, confidence in her mind, Shelby’s influence fighting Athena’s. She tried to free herself again with renewed vigor. Still, Otto held her, and slowly dragged his claws down her sternum. Sadie howled as her skin tore.
He’s killing me!
Otto drew back his lips, showing fangs like daggers. As he lifted his head another growl came from him—the kind that she had used many times just before throating her trapped prey. Sadie closed her eyes.
Otto snarled as he lunged the short distance to her neck, but a deep bellow rose louder than Otto’s snarl, a human bellow that became a thunderous growl. She dared to peer through her clinched eyelids and saw Elias standing above her, his forearm in Otto’s mouth, dripping blood. The black wolf rose up on his hind legs, snarling wildly, clawing for Elias’s throat, but Elias held him back with his arm raised above his head still in Otto’s mouth. Elias had partial shifted and blocked Otto’s killing blow with his own arm, and still held off her attacker even as teeth sank deep into his arm.
Her Alpha had come for her. Her true Alpha.
Rain dripping from his furry brow and blood from his arm, Elias looked down at her. His clothes tore as his muscles expanded.
“I knew you could do it. Now go. Kale and Shelby are not far.”
Sadie did not have to be told twice. She rolled and scampered from under Elias. She ran into Kale and Shelby in their wolves not but seconds later.
Where’s my dad? Kale asked through the pack link.
Behind me, Sadie said breathlessly. He’s . . . holding . . . off . . . Otto.
A chorus of howls split the night, and Sadie knew they were in deep trouble.
I think we’re surrounded.
Elias ripped his arm from Otto’s fangs only to catch the Lycan by his throat with the other, digging the claws from his partial-shifted hand into Otto’s flesh.
“Did you think I would let you hurt my pack?” His voice thundered with all the authority of an Alpha and he squeezed harder, raising Otto up higher, forcing the wolf backwards. Still, he did not release his grip. Otto raked Elias’s arm savagely, but Elias bit back the pain. He knew pain well.
He remembered that cold morning in 1941 in the Argonne Forest. He had never forgotten it, the day he was born to the world of Lycans against his will; the day he lost his mates and brother. Elias let his old Scottish accent that he had trained out of himself seep back into his rumbling words. “Nae
, bastard. I’ll nae be lettin’ ye tak’ from me again.”
With his free hand, his forearm shredded from Otto’s bite, Elias reached behind his back and pulled the bayonet from the velvet cloth.
He held it up for Otto to see. Rain dripped down the old weapon.
“Ye’ll nae hae forgotten this. Still stained wit yer blood.”
Otto barked, snapping his jaws at Elias with hate. From beneath his shirt, Elias broke the chain that held the silver crucifix around his neck, then pinched one end of the chain to the blade with his finger and whirled the chain until it wrapped itself securely around the bayonet. With his own savage cry, Elias thrust the bayonet deep into Otto’s chest. The German wolf howled.
“Carney,” Elias said. He tore the blade free and thrust it into Otto again. “Rhett.” Then another. “Paden.”
Otto whined now, howling a pathetic whimper, but still Elias would not release his choke hold upon him. Otto began to shift back to human, his eyes turning from amber to the pale blue Elias had looked into over seventy-five years earlier. Blood dripped from Otto’s lips.
“Elias, please . . .”
Elias Copeland thrust the bayonet once more, finding Otto’s heart. He heard the sizzle of the silver crucifix against the Lycan’s flesh. He pushed the bayonet in further, holding Otto’s cruel gaze, until the crucifix disappeared inside his old enemy’s chest. He grabbed Otto firmly on the backside of his neck, like a puppy by the scruff of its neck, forcing Otto’s head close to his and bringing his mouth to his ear.
“I’ll be leavin’ it thair this taime.”
Otto fell, his face motionless as the rain bounced off his glassy eyes. Elias let himself shift back to human completely, and emotion filled his voice as he spoke the last name.
“Tavish.”
He raised his head to see Sadie, Shelby, Kale, and Gennesaret to his left. Paul and Sophie Chandler rushed up to their daughter. Sadie shifted and jumped into their arms, trembling.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
Elias smelled a new scent to his right. He turned to face the Alpha Prime, who stood roughly twenty feet away with Athena at his side.
The helicopters were making strafing runs over the manor when Grant slammed through the gate in his Blazer. The guards there were dead. He gripped his steering wheel in anger. Return fire from concealed positions on the manor’s roof chased the helicopters, forcing one to make evasive maneuvers.
The Blazer screeched to a halt as he pulled into the underground garages. Grant jumped out and stabbed the keypad of the satellite phone. The same initial voice as before answered.
“Iron Ice!” Grant yelled, identifying himself. “Patch me through to Wilstead!”
More bullets riddled the grounds, slamming into concrete, grass, trees, and the manor itself.
“He’s deployed,” the voice answered.
“Yeah, no kidding, genius! I’m in the middle of his deployment. Now patch me through.”
Rotor-winged drones darted through the air in a dog fight with the helicopters. A rocket shot from one helicopter and took out a drone. The flaming wreckage spun into another drone, taking it down as well. A third drone shot 5.7mm rounds into the chopper’s cabin, and a Hunter fell, hitting the ground with a sickening thud.
“I’m sorry, Iron Ice. I cannot.”
Grant swore and disconnected the call, then opened the rear door of his blazer and inspected his tactical loadout. His M4 wasn’t going to bring choppers down, but his custom .338 Lapua would. He grabbed the rifle and ran a hand along its carbon fiber barrel. Just as he was grabbing three magazines, another vehicle made its way down the ramp to the underground garages. A yellow VW Bug.
Bubba extricated his considerable bulk from the car with a half-eaten Snickers bar in one hand.
“Why the Taliban attacking us?” he shouted.
“It’s not the Taliban, idiot! They’re Hunters!”
“Guess they learned from last time,” Bubba said. “Wolfies can’t fly.” He rubbed his car’s rusted roof. “But bumble bees can.”
A line of rounds chewed up the yard then the driveway, streaming right for Bubba. At the last second, the line turned to the side, going around him.
“I have to set up on the roof with Ackerman, Bubba. I don’t have time for riddles.”
Bubba laughed, then shoved the rest of the Snickers bar in his mouth. “He ain’t got time for riddles. You here that, Bee? Just wait.”
Bubba stood in the open, staring at an incoming chopper.
“DeShawn, what are you doing?” Grant yelled. “Get down!”
“Nah, Mr. B.,” he answered with a grunt. “I ain’t going nowhere.”
Bubba’s car started shaking, rattling like a can of bolts. It lifted from the ground, hovering a few inches from the concrete, and the hair on the back of Grant’s neck stood up. Bubba let loose with a primal grunt and his car flew through the air as if launched by a catapult. He never took his piercing glare from the helicopter and his VW Bug-turned-yellow-cannon-ball-o-death slammed into the chopper. It came down in a ball of flames.
Grant raised an eyebrow and nodded in respect. “Not bad, Super Fly.”
Bubba tore the shirt that more resembled a poncho from him. At least he had a belt on with holes all the way around. He quickly adjusted it. Bubba’s physique had transformed into a slender, almost cartoonish muscle defined body. There didn’t seem to be an ounce of fat left on him. He snagged a Snickers bar from his pocket and tore the wrapping off.
“Got two more, Mr. B.”
Grant’s Blazer started shaking. “No. Uh uh. No.”
“What am I supposed to use then? I got these—” he pulled out a bag full of what Grant assumed were silver ball bearings the size of marbles—”but I was saving them for the bad wolfies.”
“Can’t you just swat them out of the sky?”
“Nope. It’s gotta be close enough to the ground for me to grab it. But once I grab it, I’m good.”
Grant cocked his head. “Close enough to the ground?”
Another helicopter swooped by low overhead and banked to turn around.
“Man, I don’t got time to explain this!” Bubba said. “We’re getting shot at and you want a lesson in physics? Has something to do with gravity, that’s all I know.”
Grant grabbed his satellite phone. “Let me try again. I think you may have gotten their attention.” He made the call, and this time was transferred through to Wilstead.
“Land, Jack, and we’ll talk,” Grant ordered. “Otherwise you’ll have werewolves flying straight into your helicopters’ cabins next time.”
Bubba’s face contorted as he whispered, “Hey man, you can’t say that! I don’t know if I can do that. You know the accuracy that would take?”
Grant covered the mouthpiece and glared at Bubba, who held up his hands.
“Aight, just saying.”
Jack agreed to land outside the manor’s perimeter, but not to power down his choppers. Apparently, he wanted a quick escape if things turned bad. Grant replaced his sniper rifle in the Blazer and slung his M4 carbine over his shoulder. Ackerman leaped down from the roof in a half-shift and joined Grant and Bubba as they walked toward the front gate that Grant had burst through.
“I can’t believe my chicken is burning for this! Momma better have seen my note to take it out of the oven or I’ma be one pissed off playa killa.”
“How many?” Grant asked Ackerman.
“At least six dead,” Ackerman said.
Grant cursed. And then again as he saw a car approach the landing helicopters. “Who is that?”
“Most of the pack is circling to Elias,” Ackerman said. “Whoever it is, he’s not one of ours.”
“She’s not one of ours, you mean,” Grant said as a woman got out of the car, holding up something in the air and shouting as she walked toward one of the choppers. Several spotlights turned on her.
Bryanne Desmond limped out of her car toward the men who wer
e hopping out of the two helicopters as they landed and forming a defensive perimeter. Bryanne held her hands up unarmed. For just a moment, she felt for the ley lines in the earth. Yes, much thicker here.
“Stop right there,” a Hunter yelled.
“I’m not Lycan. I’m CIA. We need to talk.”
“Lycan or no, CIA has no authority here. This is a domestic dispute, and the Hunters are not under any one government control.” A man with a huge mustache snarled at her. “You would know that, if you were truly CIA.”
“Jack? Jack Wilstead? I’ve seen your name on way too many reports. You should know that anything paranormal falls under CIA jurisdiction. That includes Lycans and that includes you and your merry band of bloodthirsty thugs. You don’t want to top a file for killing the head of paranormal investigations in the United States. That would make for a very bad day.”
He twisted his mustache as he contemplated her for a long moment. He then pulled a coin out of his pocket and flipped it to her, the metal ringing in the silence as thirty weapons kept track of every movement.
Bryanne snatched the coin out of the air. “I can show you my badge, if you promise not to shoot me as I reach for it.”
He nodded.
She slowly pulled it out of her front breast pocket and let the leather cover flop over. A woman ran forward as soon as it was open. “The coin please? And keep the hand open.” She lifted the coin and examined the skin beneath. “Not Lycan, sir, and the badge looks legit.”
Jack spat. “What do you want? And why shouldn’t I just go through you?”
Bryanne smiled, knowing she had just won a small victory. “I want you to listen and pay attention. Our lives depend on it.”
“Speak.”
“I just came from Lovell.” Many of the Hunters murmured at this, shifting their weight and readjusting their hold on their weapons. Bryanne was certain they would fire now for any misstep, but they had to know that detail. “I was investigating the Advent insurgence, same as your people. Wrong place, wrong time. Or, perhaps, right place and time.” She gestured to her arm. “The Advent pack gave me this, but I killed at least forty myself. Your men and women held their own too. You should be proud of the good people of Lovell. I saw children take down wolves in the streets. The Advent lost more in that one town than they’ve lost in all their battles in the past six months.”