Phantom Wolf

by Bonnie Vanak

  “Christ,” Sully muttered. “Shades of Rwanda and Bosnia.”

  “Sounds far-fetched. You believe it?” Renegade asked.

  Shay sighed. “I believe she didn’t kidnap Billy and that she believes she is fighting for the right cause.”

  The other, he needed proof.

  He glanced at his lieutenant. “And I believe the council is gunning for her, because of Senator Rogers.”

  Dakota had a white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel. “They’re your people, Shay. You know Mage politics better than we do. But we have our orders.”

  “Let’s go,” he said, and gave the coordinates.

  * * *

  Trees and shrubs flanked the road, shadowed by the magnificent vista of jagged mountains. Dakota kept a steady speed, except to slow and jerk the vehicle around potholes the size of moon craters. Small, rough-hewn shacks sold colorful handwoven hammocks strung between trees. Two or three times they had to stop and slow for men driving a herd of cattle on the road, waving a red caution flag for vehicles.

  Three hours later, they reached San Lorenzo. A faded statue of the saint guarded the town’s entrance. Shay’s pulse accelerated as he glanced at the receiver.

  “She’s here. Take the right fork, then the first right.”

  They drove past a row of buildings and hit a dirt road. Simple wood-and-adobe houses flanked the road, cordoned off from each other by barbed-wire fences. The burning sun in the crisp blue sky baked the landscape.

  After a series of turns, they arrived at a white concrete building bearing a sign that read Health Center in Spanish. A few women, babies in their arms, mingled out front as Dakota parked the Rover.

  In the dirt road, Kelly kicked a soccer ball to four young boys. Faded jeans hugged her curves and clung to her heart-shaped ass. The cap-sleeved turquoise shirt accented her high, generous breasts and showed arms that were toned and tanned. A clip held up her long red hair, but several tendrils had escaped and curled in the heat. Shouts sounded as the boys chased the ball. She glanced up and saw their vehicle. No reaction.

  “She’s expecting us,” Sully marveled.

  Shay removed the flex ties and climbed out as Dakota waited, engine humming. The thick, humid air wrung sweat from his pores as he faced his former lover.

  Soon to be his prisoner.

  For a moment, he remained motionless. Skin soft and smooth, she was so pretty, life sparking in her big blue eyes. He loved the way the sun glinted off the copper highlights in her hair as the ponytail tumbled past her slender shoulders. Shay drew in a deep breath as a droplet of sweat rolled down the slope of her smooth throat.

  He remembered another time when he’d made her sweat.

  Shay steeled himself. You have a job to do.

  Kelly kicked the ball to the boys. “Sorry, guys, my ride’s here. You finish the game,” she called in Spanish.

  As she grabbed her pack, Shay waited. No emotion showed on her face as she walked toward him.

  “Kelly Denning, you’re under arrest,” he said in English.

  “Please, don’t do this here,” she said in a low voice. “Not in front of them. I don’t want a scene.”

  Shay took her arm, led her down a deserted side street, away from curious bystanders. Dakota followed in the Rover.

  Before an abandoned adobe building, he cuffed her wrists.

  Her skin was soft and warm beneath his fingers. Shay kept his voice steady.

  “Kelly Denning, you are under arrest according to the Law of Mages and hereby remanded to custody.”

  He ushered her into the vehicle, between himself and Greg in the backseat. Dakota glanced in the mirror.

  “I made the call to Curt. Helo will meet us at the LZ in thirty minutes,” he said in a tight voice.

  Her hands shook, but she scrubbed them against her jeans. “Where...” She cleared her voice. “Where are you taking me?”

  As Dakota told her, blood drained from her face. “I can’t leave the country.”

  “You have no choice,” Shay said almost gently.

  She pulled at her cuffs to no avail. “I won’t let you do this.”

  Shay placed a hand on her arm, feeling delicate bones beneath her soft skin. “We’re under orders, Kelly.”

  “Whose orders? Your commanding officer?”

  When he nodded, she looked paler. “He’s a Primary Elemental Mage, isn’t he?”

  “Yes.” Shay looked out the window.

  “Those orders are bogus.”

  From the front seat, Renegade snorted. Dakota glanced at Shay in the rearview mirror as they headed south on the highway.

  Kelly turned to him, her expression fierce. “Your CO isn’t who you think he is. He’s been replaced. The extermination of your people has already begun, Sam.”

  The others said nothing, but their faces said it all. Kelly was a desperate prisoner who’d do anything to escape.

  “You think I’m making this up. But for the sake of your people, and mine, listen to your instincts, Sam. You know this isn’t normal.”

  “We’re SEALs and paranorms. Nothing is ever normal,” he said drily.

  Shay studied the landscape as they turned off the highway. Dusty trees, ragged shrubs and rugged hillsides flanked each side of the Rover. They bounced up and down like bobblehead dolls as the vehicle drove through the rough dirt road.

  “LZ is an empty cornfield ahead, three klicks,” Dakota mused. “Be there in a few.”

  Every sense on alert, Shay scanned the area for signs of an approaching helo, or any other military. Nothing, except a small child herding a small group of cows with a long stick.

  “Dakota, keep sharp,” he muttered.

  As they rounded a curve, his senses kicked into turbo. In the middle of the road lay several leafy branches arranged in a pyramid.

  “Disabled vehicle ahead. Or maybe the road’s bad.” Sully shook his head. “Not that this road could get worse.”

  “That’s the marker for the LZ.” Dakota stopped and cut the engine.

  “It’s a trap,” Kelly said, sitting forward.

  To their right, a swath of rocky land rose to a steep hill covered with trees. A barren cornfield was to their left.

  Odd place for a landing. Shay’s suspicions grew.

  “She’s right,” he said. “It smells like a setup. Let’s gear up.”

  “Do it,” LT murmured.

  Sully reached into the wheel well and retrieved the MP5s, handing them out, along with five sets of fingerless gloves. Kelly’s eyes widened as each man checked his weapon. Shay knew what she thought. The compact submachine guns meant business.

  But then she exhaled, a sound of pure relief. “I knew I got arrested by the right people.”

  Renegade looked up from slipping his radio into its case. He gave a quick but friendly grin. Another surprise. Shay adjusted his bone phone earpieces and checked his throat mic, hoping the wolf’s changed attitude would be the only surprise they faced.

  They waited. No sound of an approaching helicopter. The air inside the SUV grew oppressive and hot.

  “Helo overdue by fifteen minutes.” Sully tapped his watch. “Anyone see her ride?”

  “I’m checking it out.” Shay readied his weapon.

  Leaving the door open, he slid out of the vehicle and scanned the area. Those hills were a perfect place for an ambush.

  Shay narrowed his eyes. A flock of blackbirds suddenly scattered from the trees on the ridge. Metal glinted in thick bushes on the ridge.

  He hit the ground even as a bullet splintered a nearby rock. “Incoming!”

  Gunfire crackled, bullets piercing the dusty ground. One hit the windshield. It cracked but did not shatter. Another hit the back tire. It exploded with a burst of rubber. Shay crawled b
ack to the Rover and used the door as cover as he fired back. The other SEALs did the same, aiming at the ridge.

  “Shit,” Sully yelled. “We’re sitting ducks.”

  The vehicle was designed to take a hit and then drive off, not endure a hailstorm of ammo. Shay glanced backward and saw Kelly lying on the seat, her gaze wide.

  “Keep down,” he ordered.

  A distant scream as they kept firing at the ridge. No return fire. Movement from the bushes to their right. More movement to the right.

  Sully grabbed his binocs and scanned the ridge. “Two active targets, Oscar Mike.” He gave the locations.

  Dakota nodded. “Greg, stay here with the prisoner. Shay, take the forward location. Sully, Renegade, flank to the right. I’ll cover the left.”

  They moved out as a team, a horseshoe encircling the enemy. Shay fought the urge to protest. Greg, the FNG, was barely a SEAL, and if something happened to Kelly...

  Using rocks and trees as cover, he gained the ridge and settled behind a thick tree trunk. Shay clicked his radio twice to signal he was in position.

  A branch cracked nearby. His KA-BAR was sheathed at his ankle. If he had to, he’d go hand to hand.

  A muzzle flash exploded like sparks. Shay stayed low as bullets sprayed haphazardly. The shooter was a total amateur. Then he heard a low curse, someone trying to jimmy the trigger.

  Jammed.

  Pointing his weapon, he stepped from behind the tree, knowing they needed the assailant alive for questioning. The air went out of his lungs as he stared at the assailant in shock.

  The shooter was a duplicate of himself wearing green cammies and carrying an older-model submachine gun.

  Shay kept an instinctive grip on the MP5, training it on his twin. In his hands, his gun always remained steady. Always.

  “Who the hell are you?” he said hoarsely.

  Nothing but a guarded look.

  Fine. Shay fired a spray of bullets at his doppelgänger’s feet. The man jumped and yelped. A dark stain spread on his groin, the ammonia smell of urine hitting Shay’s nostrils.

  “Next time, I aim higher. Who the hell are you?”

  The man seemed to struggle with his composure. Then he gave a slow smile, as if the neurons in his brain finally began to fire and connect.

  “I am what you were. The charmer. The smooth ladies’ man. The man who let down everyone he loved, everyone who counted on him.”

  The other gave a cocky grin Shay had seen in the mirror. A dizzying sense of unreality began fogging Shay’s mind.

  “I am the man who cares only for his own pleasure. The man who let his little brother die. Call me...Mr. Dark Side. I am you, Samuel Jackson Shaymore.”

  A kaleidoscope of memories swirled. In the other, he saw everything he’d been; the carefree man who’d easily seduced ladies, who used his powers to get what he wanted, the youthful boy-man who thought only of the erotic delights Kelly offered...

  The person who failed to see the truth of what Kelly’s father was, what Kelly’s people were, and adhere to his first duty—protect his family.

  The man who’d failed to save his little brother.

  Waves of pain shocked him, the memories so thick he wanted to claw them away. Once again he heard the chant that echoed through his mind after he’d fought the flames, desperate to get to Pete, his parents....

  You can’t save them, you can’t save them...

  “Such a sweet little brother. He died calling your name,” the other murmured.

  The other was him, the man who’d failed time and again. The self who was failing now as a SEAL, couldn’t control his powers, would soon get kicked off the team...

  Then he heard Kelly’s voice, clear and strong, override the chiding self-incrimination.

  “You’re my only hope, Sam. Not because you’re a navy SEAL, but because I know the strong, dependable man who wouldn’t let a raging fire stop him from storming into a burning house is the only one who can stop them.”

  Chin up, hands steady as he jerked his gaze forward. To his target. Himself.

  Who was now running away, zigging and zagging through the forest. That little interlude gave him time to escape.

  “Mr. Dark Side, meet Mr. Bullet.” He fired.

  A hail of bullets spat out of the MK5, hot shell casings coughing out of the gun. One skimmed his neck, burning him. But it was too late. The doppelgänger vanished into the forest.

  Dammit. He broke radio silence. “Alpha One, this is Bravo Two. Over.”

  Dakota’s voice crackled. “Sitrep, Bravo Two. Over.”

  Recovering his composure, he spoke harshly into his throat mic. “Code red, hostile is paranorm. Doppelgänger.”

  He paused and added, “Bastard knew my history. Over.”

  LT’s voice crackled in his ear. “Roger that. Smoke-check ’em? Over.”

  “Negative. Target is Oscar Mike.”

  He hadn’t killed the enemy but had let him escape. Dammit, he was a good operator and no stranger to surprise. He was a SEAL.

  The radio crackled. “Charlie Mike. Rendezvous at the SUV. Over,” Dakota said.

  “Roger that. Bravo Two out.”

  Dakota gave the green light to tail the SOB’s ass. Knew he could find him. Shay squatted down, studied the ground. If he shape-shifted into a wolf, he could more easily track the enemy. Tension knotted his stomach. Already filled with adrenaline, he feared the results of shifting. Uncontrollable. Feral. A beast who would not stop, could not stop.

  The stench of urine mingled with the heat, decaying vegetation and the dust. Shay focused on the ground, opening all his senses. Each broken branch and disturbed leaf alerted him to the direction his twin had taken.

  The man might look like him, but he sorely lacked the ability to mask his trail. Not a SEAL, that’s for damn sure, Shay thought.

  He followed the trail as it snaked through the woods downward to a stream. The radio crackled into his ear. “Alpha One, this is Charlie Three. Target acquired, ready for download by Bravo Two,” Sully said, giving the coordinates.

  Dammit. But the team needed him. Shay gave up the chase, moved down the hill and joined up with Renegade and Dakota. “Find your twin?” Renegade asked.

  Shay shook his head. “How many targets?”

  “Three, including yours and Sully’s. Smoke-checked one.” Dakota looked around. “Kelly was right. We were set up.”

  By their own commanding officer. Shay’s stomach roiled. The game had changed, and they needed answers. Now.

  Chapter 7

  They headed downhill through the trees. In a clearing, Sully trained his submachine gun on a very frightened bald man in military fatigues. Not a duplicate.

  The SEAL scowled. “Stupid rock can’t even shoot straight. Tried to fry me with magick but missed and hit the tree.”

  “Where are the others?”

  “Dead, except for Shay’s doppelgänger,” Dakota said. “Is he talking?”

  “Only to cry for his mama.”

  “Question him, Shay,” Dakota ordered.

  Keeping his gun pointed at the prisoner, Sully and the other SEALs backed off. They knew what he was about to unleash.

  Shay closed his eyes and released his magick full bore, for the first time in months. Power rippled along his forearms to his hands. Blazing white with energy, his palms pulsed with magick. Sparks sizzled from his fingertips like Fourth of July fireworks.

  If he released too much, he’d trigger an uncontrollable inferno of magick. But this time, he knew he could control it. “Who are you, and who sent you?” Shay asked.

  The man’s wide blue eyes filled with hatred. He lifted his hands as if to surrender.

  “Elemental filth,” the prisoner muttered.

  Then
he began a chant of ancient Celtic words Shay remembered from summer solstice rituals. He glanced upward at the darkening clouds. Virulent hatred etched his face as the man began shouting the chant. Clouds scudding overhead turned black and threatening. Thunder boomed.

  Oh, hell, not this. Shay’s Mage senses tingled.

  “Sully, kneecap,” Shay ordered.

  The SEAL shot the prisoner. The man screamed and yanked his hand downward. Shay’s jaw dropped as a black ribbon of pure energy from an overhead thundercloud slithered downward, directly into the Mage’s hand.

  He was a SEAL. Nothing ever surprised him. But this...

  “Die, you Elemental bastard,” the prisoner howled.

  The man threw back his palm as if to pitch a baseball. Shay tossed out a portion of his magick. Power exploded through the air, a white ball of energy hurling toward the prisoner. In a brilliant flare of sparks, white energy collided with the black electrical charges the Mage tossed at him. Then the black energy absorbed Shay’s pure white magick, converging and forming an orb that pulsed and glowed.

  Shit! Arcane magick was weak at best. This was something he’d never encountered.

  Shay threw more power, only to watch the newly formed orb consume it. Sparks crackled as the glowing ball drifted toward him. His own damn magick was working against him. If the orb touched him, he was dead.

  “Shay, kill the son of a bitch,” Dakota ordered.

  “You need him alive.” He sidestepped, and the orb floated through the air, following him.

  “I need you alive more,” his lieutenant said.

  Two could play this game. Shay gathered more power, flung it outward at the orb. Like a child tapping a floating balloon, his magick pushed the orb toward the Mage. His magick then absorbed the ball, shooting ribbons of powerful energy at the prisoner, who screamed as they touched his skin.

  As the Mage reached up to pull more power from the storm, Shay threw all his powers into the orb. It burst apart, covering the Mage with a finely laced net of white-and-dark energy. The net sank into his skin like a knife through butter. The ozone stench of energy twined with the slick, coppery scent of the Mage’s blood as Shay’s magick ate into his flesh.