by M. D. Massey
“Yeah, I’m here.”
Belladonna sounded a bit frantic. “Colin, where the hell are you? The nerd herd and I drove by the junkyard to pick you up, but it’s all locked up and dark inside. Ay carajo, but you had me so scared—I thought Gunnarson and his goons got you.”
“I had to get away from there, you know? So I took a walk.”
“That’s fine—tell me where you are so I can come pick you up.”
I looked around, realizing I had no idea where I was. “Hang on a sec.” I fired up the GPS and pulled up my maps app to get my position. “I’m on the East Side, near Oakwood Cemetery.”
“You walked all the way over there? With Gunnarson and who knows who else on the hunt for us?”
“Better than staying at the junkyard. That’s the first place anyone would look.”
“Colin…” her voice trailed off, despite the obvious frustration she was feeling. “Just stay where you are, alright? We’ll be there to get you in, say, twenty minutes.”
“Meet me by the chapel. That’s where I’ll be.”
I entered the graveyard at an unhurried pace, welcoming the silent company of the old gravestones and buried dead as I thought through my current situation. I’d always found graveyards to be conducive to silent reflection, which was just what I needed at the moment. And even though this had been a place of recent tragedy, it was still one of my favorite places in the city.
I took a short, shuddering breaths as I began to stroll the lanes, focusing on my surroundings until my breathing gradually became deeper and more relaxed. Smells of freshly mown grass and newly turned earth mixed with just the faintest underlying odor of decay, and rather than being turned off by it, I found it somehow soothing. Within minutes, my body calmed and relaxed, and I felt at least somewhat able to consider what might lie ahead.
As I strolled between headstones that were moss-marked and pitted by time, I thought back to the huge battle I’d fought here against the Dark Druid his undead army. Hemi and Guts the troll had fought at my side then, in a fierce battle that had nearly cost us our lives. The trolls lost several warriors that night, but thankfully no innocents had been killed. The Dark Druid might have been a dick, but he was at least a dick who followed predictable patterns of engagement.
Gunnarson, on the other hand, was a different animal—completely unpredictable and devoid of any moral compunctions against taking innocent lives. I knew he’d keep coming at me, hurting people I loved, until I gave up or made a mistake that got me killed. It was clear that I needed to face him, but did I really want to take on someone who was that powerful alone… especially now, with all the trouble I was having controlling my other half?
Before I took my next step, I needed to think through my other options. The most obvious choice was to take what I’d learned to Maeve and let her handle it. But that would be tantamount to asking for her help, and that was something I simply would not do.
I also thought about using the geek squad to alert the High Council at the Circle, but I was pretty sure that Gunnarson had already labeled Belladonna and the nerd herd as defectors. In fact, I wouldn’t have been surprised if he was busy pinning the fae killings on them… and me. Plus, at least one person on the Council was dirty. So, that path was out.
An alternate route would be to get the vamps and the Pack involved. I knew both Samson and Luther would back my play. The problem was, that would be pitting them against the most powerful faction in the city, disturbing a peace that had lasted decades. Tensions were already running high, what with fae dropping like flies lately. The city’s supernatural underworld was a powder keg, and all it needed was a spark to go off. Far be it from me to get either faction in a war with the Circle. I was responsible for enough deaths already.
That left me with one option, which was to either expose or eliminate Gunnarson myself.
Bells pulled up in the van a few minutes later, tires squealing. The side door slid open, and inside, Dex stared at me like a deer in headlights. I’d ignored him earlier, too worried about my uncle to pay him any mind. He looked to be about fifteen years old—a skinny, pimply kid dressed like a CPA in a white Ralph Lauren button-down, khakis, brown dress shoes, and a belt to match. He looked like he was about to shit a brick, and his voice cracked as he spoke.
“I’m sorry about your uncle, Mr. McCool. Please don’t hulk out and eat my liver.” He wrung his hands nervously while Deets looked at him with contempt.
I pointed at Dex with my thumb as I climbed into the van. “Where in the fuck did you find this guy, at the local Kindercare?”
Kien grinned as he cast a glance at his friend. “Pretty much. Little prick was working on a PhD in information security at Texas when recruiting caught wind of him. They asked him if he wanted to hack the NSA’s intel gathering program, and he said he already had. After he proved it they offered him six figures on the spot, along with the opportunity to complete his thesis while ‘interning’ at HQ.” He picked a Skittle off his workstation keyboard and beaned the teen in the head with it. “And here I am, ten years in and still making five figures.”
Dex looked hurt. “It’s not my fault you never got an IT degree. I keep telling you, go back to school and it’ll open up doors—but oh no, nobody listens to Dex.”
“That’s because you’re fifteen fucking years old, dick,” Deets said as he closed the door behind me.
Dex flipped Deets off, then his eyes settled on me again. “So, you’re not going to kill me?”
“Nope. Belladonna is perfectly capable of feeding you your nut sack herself. Seriously, kid, if I thought you were a threat you’d already be dead.”
“Uh, thanks?” he squeaked.
“Thank me after you find out what we’re about to do.” I slipped up to the front and took a seat next to Bells. “Are you ready to fuck some shit up?”
“Hell yes,” she replied with an evil look in her eye. “Do we even have a plan?”
“Oh, I have a plan.” I looked at the nerd herd in the back of the van. “These guys might not like it, but I most definitely have a plan.”
“And you’re sure you can track his location from the back of this thing?” I asked as we sped down the highway.
“Sure as death and taxes,” Deets replied. “So long as he’s carrying his phone, we’ll know where he is.”
“I figured you Circle types would have untraceable phones or something,” I remarked.
Kien shook his head. “They are, except that the Circle tracks all of their personnel via their communication devices. No one else can trace them, but we know where every operative is at all times. Even big shots like Gunnarson.”
Dex raised his hand. “I wrote that program, by the way.”
Kien’s lip curled as he typed away at a laptop. “Yeah, yeah—you’re the wonder boy, Dex. Now, go grab me a grape soda from the cooler. And don’t lick the top!”
Dex made funny faces as he mocked Kien behind his back, but he did as he was told. I moved behind Kien and pointed at a pulsating dot on the screen.
“Is that him?”
“It’s his phone, anyway,” Kien replied, taking the soda from Dex and sniffing the top. His eyes narrowed. “You didn’t lick this, did you?”
“Maybe I did, and maybe I didn’t. Maybe I wiped my ass with it,” Dex teased.
“Cleaner than his mouth,” Belladonna quipped from up front.
“Oh, burn!” Deets declared. “Alright, I’m sending the notice out on the wire right now. As far as anyone will know, you were spotted at the junkyard five minutes ago alone. Gunnarson’s team will converge there to take you out, giving us plenty of time to do what’s needed at his place.”
“Fucking one-percenter,” Kien muttered. “I’m looking forward to watching you smash that place to dust.”
“You aren’t going to be anywhere near there when Gunnarson and his clowns show up,” I said. “Stick to the plan—Bells and I can’t take Gunnarson out while we’re worried about keeping you three safe.”
Belladonna turned her head around to yell at the nerd herd. “Did they take the bait, or not?”
Deets adjusted his headset, raising a finger in the air. “Hold for confirmation… yes, they’re taking the bait. We are clear to go.”
Bells punched it, the whine of the van’s turbodiesel engine reaching epic proportions as she passed cars with abandon. “Alright then,” she said over the engine noise. “ETA in twenty minutes, give or take. Dex, you’d better have that thing ready by the time we get there, or else I will feed you your nutsack.”
Dex was now in the rear of the van, tinkering with a large electronic device. “Promises, promises,” Dex muttered around the screwdriver in his mouth.
“What was that?” Bells yelled.
“I said it’ll be ready, don’t worry,” the kid replied.
I moved to the back to squat down next to Dex. The kid was so wrapped up in his work, he practically ignored me. “What’s the range on that thing, kid?”
“Maybe one-half mile, tops. It’ll brick every electronic device within that radius. Including your cell phone, so you’d best leave it with us. And don’t call me kid.”
I held up my Craneskin Bag. “Pocket dimension. It’ll be safe.”
“Neat. Now, would you get out of my light? I’m working here,” Dex replied without pausing to look at me.
I did as he asked, taking a seat near Deets. “Man, he gets attitude when he works, doesn’t he?”
Deets moved his hand like he was jerking off. “Dex gets mouthy, but he knows he’s still my bitch—aren’t you, Dex?” Dex flipped him off without sparing him a glance, and Deets laughed as he whispered to me behind his hand. “The little shit is good at what he does, and he knows it. Trust me, if he says it’ll be ready, it’ll be ready.”
“Good to know,” I said, turning forward in my seat and closing my eyes. I took several deep breaths, entering a light trance to calm my nerves.
It’d better be ready, I thought. Because I don’t know if I can beat Gunnarson without it.
Twenty-Two
We got to Gunnarson’s ranch in record time, with Kien and Bells switching out driving duties before we arrived. The nerd herd dropped us off down the road from Gunnarson’s place, along with the device I’d had Dex cobble together earlier. Now, we just had to wait for Dex to nerf the security, then we’d take out the remaining guards and set our trap for Gunnarson.
Deets’ voice came over the military-style radio earpieces we were wearing, courtesy of The Cold Iron Circle. “I see two guards on perimeter patrol, heading south toward your current position. They will reach you in thirty seconds.”
“Copy that,” Bells said. “On the move.”
Belladonna had kept one of the fancy tranquilizer guns she’d stolen from the guards during our last visit. We took cover in thick foliage along the other side of the fence and waited for the patrol.
“Won’t they be expecting an attack?” I asked.
“Nope,” Bells whispered. “Deets has been feeding them false surveillance info. They think we bailed on you and headed to Dallas.”
“Hmm. You think Gunnarson will buy it?”
The UTV drove toward us on the other side of the fence with two guards in the front seats. Bells waited for them to pass, then stood up and fired the tranq gun twice. Both men reacted, grasping at the darts before slumping down in the vehicle, which veered off and crashed into a tree.
“Oops,” Bells said. “Come on, let’s get moving in case someone heard that.”
We ran for the fence, crunching through gravel and undergrowth. I disabled the magic wards, noting that the configuration had been upgraded considerably since my break-in. It still didn’t give me much trouble. If there was one thing I was good at magic-wise, it was bypassing magical security measures. I temporarily shut the spells down in this section of fence, making sure to avoid tripping any alarms. Once we vaulted the fence, I turned them back on, and moments later we were headed toward the main residence.
Deets’ voice crackled in our ears. “Three guards outside the house and one inside remain. First up, southeast corner.”
“Got her,” Bells whispered as the tranquilizer gun went off. The dart whizzed through the air, hitting her target squarely in the chest. Instead of falling down, however, the guard turned toward us and opened fire with a submachine gun.
“Damn it, she’s wearing body armor!” Bells hissed as she discarded the tranquilizer gun.
“Well, I guess they know we’re here now,” I said as I returned fire with my silenced Glock.
Bells swung up the suppressed Kriss Vector that hung from her shoulder. It was technically a submachine gun, but the configuration she carried qualified it as a short-barreled rifle, accurate at medium range and perfect for taking out pesky Circle operatives. She brought the Kriss to her shoulder and squeezed the trigger twice, dropping the guard immediately.
Belladonna took off at a run toward the house, and I came hot on her heels. As we passed the body, I noted that my girlfriend had put a bullet in each of the guard’s eyes.
Note to self—don’t piss off Belladonna Becerra.
“Two more coming from either corner of the residence,” Deets warned.
“They’re mine,” Bells said, raising her rifle and pointing it dead center at the house. As soon as one of the guards appeared on the right, she swung her weapon smoothly, popping off two more rounds. As the guard was falling to the ground she was already sighting in on the other corner of the house, moving smoothly in a crouch toward the residence. As that guard came around the corner, she dropped him with a single round to the head.
The radio crackled again. “One left inside the residence. We’ve cut comms, so you are free to engage.”
Dex’s voice came over the comm line. “Actually, we’re talking to the idiot now. He thinks help is on the way. What a moron.”
“Get off the comms, Dex!” Deets shouted in our ears. “Geez, how many times do I have to tell you that? Fucking amateur.”
“Okay, so now I’m deaf in one ear,” Belladonna said. “Thanks, guys.”
“Sorry,” they said in unison.
Silence followed, then the radio crackled again. “Do you want to know the position of the last guard?”
“No, Deets—I was just going to sit here and play with myself while you jokers figure out what radio discipline means.”
Dex’s voice echoed from the background over the radio. “That’s so hot.”
“Shut up, Dex. They can still hear you,” Kien whispered loudly, also in the background.
Deets audibly sighed before responding. “Last tango is hiding in the galley area behind the kitchen island.”
“Left side or right side?” Bells asked.
“Left—no, right, your right!” Deets replied.
“Copy that,” Bells whispered. She popped up and fired two shots through the window.
“Tango down, all clear,” Deets said over the radio. “And can I just say holy fucking shit that was so awesome!”
“Radio discipline guys, remember?” Bells replied as we rounded the corner and entered the house. “If you ever want to work field support, you’re going to have to learn some professionalism.”
“Hey, I’m being professional over here,” Kien shouted in the background. “You don’t hear me hopping on the radio to chat.”
“No, Kien, you didn’t,” Bells purred. “And for that I will thank you later, personally.” Bells clicked the mute button on her receiver as she looked at me. “I have to throw them a bone every now and again—keeps them on their toes.”
“I’d be jealous if it wasn’t all so damned funny,” I said, clicking my receiver off as well.
Bells kept the button depressed as she replied. “I find that the occasional peck on the cheek, cleavage display, or bend and snap gets me pretty much anything I want where they’re concerned.”
“Okay, now I am jealous.” I clicked my receiver back on. “Gentlemen, we are going to have a serious
talk about boundaries when this mission is over.”
Deets’ voice came in over the radio. “Kien, you brown-noser! Now we’re all in trouble. Way to go, man—way to fucking go.”
I knew I’d be in deep trouble going up against Gunnarson without shifting into my Fomorian form. If he’d managed to take out Elmo with just a little help from Carver, that meant he had access to some serious technomagic. Even worse, I’d yet to see him in action. I was going in blind with no real intel, against an opponent who wielded magic powers that easily dwarfed my own.
Gunnarson also had military training, which meant he was familiar with standard firearms and weaponry. I could also assume that he had extensive hand-to-hand combat training, just as all Circle operatives did. I doubted he’d sink to using those skills if he could help it, since he’d probably get his rocks off by crushing me with spell craft. Unbeknownst to Gunnarson, though, my plan was to force him to face me without magic.
I clicked my comm receiver. “Comms check.”
“You are coming in five by five, God-Killer,” Deets replied.
“Um, don’t call me that. Bells, are you in position?”
“Roger that. I’ll start dropping bodies, just as soon as you give the signal,” she replied.
I had taken up an observation point inside the house, alone. It had taken me some time to convince Belladonna that I needed her on overwatch more than I did on the ground. Bells was a hands-on kind of gal, which I admired, but I worried that Gunnarson would take any opportunity to make me flinch. All he’d have to do was skewer Bells like he had Elmo, and I’d lose my shit as well as this fight. It was a risk I wasn’t willing to take.
“Deets, how far out are Gunnarson and company?” Dead silence. “Deets? Aw hell, are you really going to make me do this?” More silence. “Fine. ‘Control’—how far out are they?”
Deets’ voice buzzed in my earpiece. “God-Killer, this is Control. Tangos are three clicks out. I show ten bodies in three vehicles.”