Cassandra Case Files

by Steven F. Warnock

  “Okay, guys, listen up,” Mack said just loudly enough for his remaining group of fighters to hear him. “When this goes bad, and it will go bad, this is the order of movement: we fall back by twos. I’ll be the last one to fall back since I’ve got the closest thing to a machine gun. Anybody gets wounded, get into the panic room. If I tell you to shut the panic room door, do it. Even if there’s still some of us on this side of the door, you shut it. The longer we can hold them here, the more time our friends and family have to make it to safety. Clear?”

  He didn’t have time to hear any replies because troggy grenade fire blasted the front door out of its frame, shattering windows in the process. The defenders had managed to scrounge up a few more grenades from the dead trogs in the mudroom, but it didn’t recoup any of what they’d lost in the earlier barrage. At the same time trogs began to howl into the mudroom. Two crouched to one side and began firing toward the defenders so that their comrades could get in.

  The mudroom door was still a fatal funnel. Liam had been tasked specifically with covering that breach. He grinned as he began placing shots into the room. His first two rounds took out the gun-trogs in the doorway. Then, he started rapidly pumping rounds through the door. On pure instinct he fired, and every round that didn’t directly hit a trog, ricocheted once or twice before finding a target. Not all of his fire was deadly, but even wounds slowed the trogs down.

  At the other breach Mack and KC were directing deadly fire, but they had a larger front to cover since the trogs quickly figured out that the windows could be used as entrances, too. KC had both of their shotguns, both of which were loaded with trog grenades. Her fire was aimed at windows and the door, hitting targets before they could come in. Mack and the rest of the fighters were pumping out rifle rounds at the trogs that were making it into the room.

  “We could sure use some cavalry right about now!” Liam shouted as he paused to reload.

  Pilar took over firing into the mudroom for him. Her fire wasn’t as effective, but it did keep the trogs pinned long enough for Liam to resume his spectacular trick shooting.

  “I’m hit!” Elwood Stokes cried out, clutching his shoulder. He stood up a little too high and a second 10mm round shattered his skull.

  “Elwood!” Viola Cobb shouted. She was the only other woman remaining to fight.

  “Get down,” Mack shouted at her, but it was too late. A 10mm round passed cleanly through her neck, and as she spun away, two more tore through her torso.

  Mack roared in rage as he held down the Hammer’s trigger and blasted the gun-trog who’d killed his friends to pieces. “Fall back,” he snarled at his people.

  More of the 10mm rounds were getting through. Duli Elango, the Hotel desk clerk and Narinder Elango’s only son, was shot through his left thigh. Vern Combs, the Hotel’s janitor, dragged his boss into the study, taking two rounds in his stomach to do so. Aaron Laguardia and Martin Herman from the Livery managed to crawl into the study and drag their wounded friends into the panic room.

  “Pilar, close the panic room door,” Mack ordered.

  The younger werewolf rushed to do as she’d been ordered. Against the protests of the men inside, she slammed the door shut, which automatically locked it.

  Liam joined her in the study a moment later, followed by KC. Mack stood in the doorway, blasting away with the Hammer until enough trog rounds hit him to send him sprawling back into the room.

  “We’re clear of civilians now,” Liam pointed out. “Time to go full paranormal?”

  “It’s looking that way,” KC agreed, eyes glowing red.

  “About time,” Pilar smirked as her own eyes glowed blue. “Hey, what’s going on with Mack?”

  “I don’t know,” KC replied, looking down at where her husband lay.

  Mack had always been a fast healer, even for a werewolf, and his bullet wounds were already closed, but his skin had started to glow. He opened his eyes, and instead of their usual golden wolfish glow, they burned with a white light.

  “Enough!” Mack bellowed, slapping the floor.

  He seemed to lift off the ground by will alone. The Hammer and his ammo bag dropped to the ground. He practically tore his clothing off as he changed. His white wolf fur also glowed brightly as he changed. Mack snatched his Ka-Bar fighting knife and his D-Guard Bowie from where they’d fallen as he changed, and he strode out into the great room.

  The swarming trogs all suddenly stopped as the glowing white werewolf appeared before them. Then, eagle wings unfurled from Mack’s back.

  “Is that new?” Pilar asked.

  “Yep,” KC grunted.

  “Well, he’s finally tapped fully into his nephilim heritage,” Liam said with a smug nod.

  “What?” KC and Pilar exclaimed in unison.

  “You guys didn’t know that Mack’s half-nephilim?”

  “Liam,” KC ground out, “Mack didn’t know.”

  “Well, he does now.”

  “Abominations!” the werewolf-angel bellowed. “Your evil ends here!”

  Then, Mack was among the trogs. Wherever his hands or feet fell, a trog tumbled away slashed or torn in half. In mere seconds, Mack had cleared the room of enemies. Then, he was out the door giving chase.

  “What do we do?” Pilar asked.

  “We follow him,” KC ordered, snatching up the Hammer and the ammo bag.

  Chapter Nine

  Twin Lakes, Colorado

  Friday, March 15, 2019

  “AGENT SAUVAGE, I THOUGHT your contact said this was not a paranormal incident.”

  “That is correct, sir.”

  “Then, perhaps you can explain the glowing winged werewolf I’m looking at,” Senior Special Agent in Charge Zeus Michelakis said.

  Zane Sauvage unbuckled himself from his seat in the cramped troop compartment of the Blackhawk helicopter and moved forward to a spot between the pilot and the Response Team Leader. He looked out the forward canopy.

  “Uh, I have no explanation, sir, but MacDuff’s file does note that in his werewolf form he is entirely white, sir,” Zane stammered.

  “That’s Hieronymus MacDuff?”

  “At a guess, I would say so, sir.

  Zeus barked a laugh and shook his head. “Pilot, take us in. Team, prepare to deploy.”

  “BLACK HELICOPTERS!” Liam shouted.

  “I noticed, but I’m kinda busy,” KC shouted back as she fired another short burst into yet another trog.

  After Mack’s initial rampage had swept through the trogs attacking the bank, the sight of the glowing, winged werewolf had sent the rest of the trogs scurrying. Mack had gone chasing after them only to run into a force of nearly a hundred trogs. The withering weight of their fire had forced Mack to stop. KC observed that it seemed like his wounds were healing faster than he was being hit.

  The first helicopter swung in from behind them. KC could see men manning GE M134 Miniguns in either door. The door gunners opened fire on the trogs, forcing them back, killing large numbers of them. The trogs tried to fire back, but the second helicopter arrived, adding its firepower to the first’s. A third helicopter came to a hover over the four of them, and men in black uniforms and body armor began sliding down ropes. One man simply stepped out of the cockpit and dropped to the ground in front of them.

  “Hi. You guys called the cavalry?”

  Mack nodded as he reverted to his human form. “Good timing. I’m beat.” Then, he passed out.

  KC managed to catch him before he hit the snowy ground.

  “You guys take it easy,” the Program agent said. “We’ve got it from here.”

  MACK DIDN’T WAKE UP until noon in his own bed aboard Busster. KC immediately began fussing, giving him protein bars to eat and insisting that he take his time, get a shower, and dress before meeting with anyone. Mack relished in the attention, of course.

  Eventually, though, after nearly cleaning out their fridge, Mack emerged onto a bright sunny day. Silver Dollar City looked like hell, which was actually bet
ter than Mack had been expecting. He’d dressed in his usual civilian clothes. His hunting gear had been ruined by his extraordinary change. KC had explained to him that Liam, thanks to his ability to sense Celestial and Infernal beings, had long ago figured out that Mack was part-Nephilim, a half angel. The idea made a lot of sense to Mack when he reflected on it. His mother was obviously his Nephilim parent, and he remembered that his father had always called her ‘Angel’ as an affectionate nickname.

  A tall, good looking man in black tactical gear greeted the two of them outside the Saloon. “Good morning, MacDuffs. I’m Zeus.”

  “My wife prefers her birth name,” Mack half-mumbled as he shook the other man’s hand. “Is that your real name or a Program call sign?”

  “Oh, it’s real. I’m Zeus Michelakis, Senior Special Agent in Charge, Denver Regional Field Office Reaction Team. My call sign is ‘Lady Killer’.”

  “And why do they call you that?” KC asked.

  “I could say it’s got something to do with polyamory and free love, but the truth is that I’m pretty much a man-whore. I like to have sex with a lot of women, especially beautiful ones like yourself,” Zeus said with a wickedly charming grin.

  “Are you actually hitting on my wife in front of me?” Mack growled.

  “Yes. Yes, I am, but don’t worry. I don’t chase after married women unless their husbands approve.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Fair enough. Say, MacDuff, are you any relation to Hieronymus Aloysius MacDuff?”

  Mack blinked. “That’s my father.”

  “I thought so!” Zeus exclaimed happily. “We served together in Vietnam, and, yes, I know I don’t look old enough to have fought in the Vietnam War, but I am.”

  “That’s... nice,” Mack stammered, not sure what to make of the current conversation.

  “Let’s get in out of the cold, and I’ll get you guys caught up, okay?” Zeus suggested.

  The Saloon had been taken over by the Program agents as a base of operations. Zane was sitting at the counter with an open laptop in front of him. Another table was occupied by a couple of agents cleaning a stack of assault rifles. Zeus waved Mack and KC to a table.

  “Zane, coffee for the table,” Zeus ordered.

  “Yes, sir,” Zane complied.

  “Well,” Zeus said with a big sigh. “First of all, let me tell you that your evacuation plan worked. We dropped a team at the gas station to corral your civilians and make sure they understand not to go blabbing what happened here to the world.”

  “Basic Men in Black routine,” Mack scoffed.

  “Yes and no,” Zeus corrected. “We don’t like to use intimidation if we can avoid it. Instead, we have a few Siren agents who can talk people into being quiet, and we do offer a financial incentive to compensate witnesses, so nobody is gonna get hurt keeping the Big Secret an ongoing secret. Your crazy mountain woman friend was very helpful in convincing your other friends to be quiet. Seems she’s on good terms with the local Sasquatch community.”

  “That is surprisingly unsurprising,” KC chuckled.

  “I was kinda wondering who Natty had been playing D&D with,” Mack snorted. “What about Ole Ahlstrom?”

  “The disgraced Bigfoot hunting cryptozoologist? Yeah, he’s not exactly credible in the scientific community to begin with, but he’s gotten more work done on trog biology in one day, under combat situations, than any other reputable scientist could have. So, I hired him, and he happily signed an NDA to continue studying the trogs.”

  “What about them? Did you kill ‘em all?” Mack asked.

  “We killed a lot of them, but not all of them. You don’t have to worry about them, though, because the ones we didn’t kill, we managed to capture. Seeing their ‘living gods’ taken down by us kinda quelled their religious fervor. That leads me to a ‘bad news/good news’ scenario for you guys.”

  “Let me guess: because the trogs aren’t on any bounty tables, our company is out of pocket for this whole mess,” Mack sighed.

  “No... well, yes, you’re more right than wrong, but that’s not my bad news for you. The bad news is that the trogs were created by the Malhumila Frateco under contract to the Dark Word,” Zeus explained.

  “The Unseelie Mafia and the most virulent paranormal terrorists on Earth?” KC snorted.

  “Hey, babe, we’re moving up in the world if those are the enemies we’re making,” Mack agreed.

  Zeus shrugged. “Okay, so, for the Frateco this was just business, but the Dark Word might actually seek revenge, depending on which faction was buying the trogs, and that is actually the good news. You see, in order to create the trogs, the Frateco had to engage in some high level biomancy. Creating new intelligent species through biomancy is forbidden under the Roman Accords...”

  “Hold up just a second,” Mack interrupted. “I’m dying to know. What are the trogs exactly?”

  “Well, they’re a combination of Faerie Oviraptor pithikos, North American Dryopithcus palianthropos, and a pinch of hobgoblin for intelligence.”

  “So, part monkey-saur, part skunk ape, and part half-goblin,” Mack summarized.

  “Yeah, pretty much.”

  “But why? Why create something like that?”

  “Who knows the Dark Word’s reasons for anything? They wanted non-human soldiers capable of both assassinations and open field battle, and that’s what the Frateco built for them,” Zeus said with a frustrated sigh. “Kid, let me give you a word of advice when it comes to the Dark Word: don’t try to understand them, just kill them.”

  “Roger that,” Mack nodded.

  “Now, getting back to the Frateco violating the Accords. Seems that one of the sub-headings on biomancy violations is the destruction of the biomancer’s product, ie, the trogs, comes with its own bounty. It’s about the same as taking out nuisance para-critters, but the Program will be paying the bounty, not the Church, so I’ll have a check cut for Mac & Mac Enterprises by this afternoon.”

  “I’ve been doing the paperwork for you,” Zane reported as he set coffee cups on the table and began pouring from a carafe.

  “On top of that little windfall, there’s a pretty hefty reward for blowing the whistle on an operation like this,” Zeus assured them.

  “What about the people who fought with us?” Mack asked.

  “They’re all being taken care of separately. Basically, we divided up the per troggy bounties into shares and assigned everybody a share based on how important they were to the defense here. Naturally, you two and your friends Pilar and Liam get the lion’s share. That payout alone will help you recoup your losses in ammo expenditures and damage to your equipment and vehicles.”

  “Yeah, about that,” KC hedged. “Um, babe, Little Boy Blue is a loss.”

  “What? Why? What kind of damage could a few crossbow bolts do?”

  “No, that’s not it. The trogs that raided the Livery engaged in some, uh, sabotage. They poured acid on the engines of our truck and the snow plow.”

  “Nasty, toxic stuff, too,” Zeus confirmed.

  “Good thing we’ve got insurance,” Mack sighed.

  “And the Program will see to it that your insurance company pays up, too,” Zeus promised. “Not that you’ll need it.”

  He passed Mack a note that had a number written on it. “Is this what I think it is?”

  “If you’re thinking that it’s the amount of reward money for turning in a major criminal and terrorist plot, then, yes.”

  Mack showed KC. “Babe, we could give up hunting for a few years. Start a family.”

  “Or we can invest this in better equipment for the business, and start a family,” KC said. “This is really gonna mess up our taxes this year.”

  “I have one final gift for the two of you,” Zeus said. He snapped his fingers at the agents cleaning weapons at the other table. “Waldorf?”

  “Got ‘em right here, Lady Killer,” the agent replied as he grabbed a pair of duffel bags and deposited them on the floor nex
t to Zeus.

  Zeus picked up one of the bags and passed it to KC. “This is a standard Program Field Agent Emergency Kit. I don’t know why it’s called an ‘emergency’ kit other than Program agents tend to squirrel these things away in their cars, homes, and hidden caches for when they’re away from their standard equipment load-outs, not to mention the way we tend to hand these kits out like gift baskets. Like, ‘here, enjoy these fine weapons and explosives’.”

  KC had unzipped the bag. Contained within was an HK416 assault rifle, a Mossberg 590A1 tactical shotgun, and a Glock G23 compact pistol. Along with the guns were slings, a holster, numerous spare magazines, a tactical vest and load bearing harness, various stakes and spikes, a couple of sheathed fighting knives including a large machete, a couple of grenades, and dozens of boxes of ammunition for all three guns.

  “Do you realize just how illegal it is for us to have just that 416?” Mack gasped. “Holy shit! Is that a claymore mine?”

  “Yes, to both of your questions,” Zeus chuckled. “Don’t worry about the permits and licenses. That’s being taken care of.”

  “This is Kryptonite Omega ammo!” KC exclaimed.

  “What?” Mack peered at the box of .40 S&W KC was holding up for him.

  “This must be what Santa Claus feels like,” Zeus chuckled.

  “Babe, the AR is blue!” KC squeaked.

  “Yes, Zane did mention something about that when he was putting this kit together for you,” Zeus chuckled.

  “So, instead of me feeling like Santa, I get to feel like his number one elf.”

  “Perkins and Fischer are my number one elves, but you’re pretty high up there,” Zeus teased. He handed the other bag to Mack.

  “Let’s see what Zane put together for you, shall we?”

  “I went as non-standard as I could get away with,” Zane admitted.

  “Uh, thank you?” Mack said as he unzipped the bag.

  Mack’s bag was somewhat larger than the one given to KC. Inside he discovered why that was necessary. A Thompson Center Long Range Rifle was the first weapon he discovered.