by L Ann
“In a nutshell,” Morgan nodded.
His grin was wolfish, more a baring of strong white teeth. “I can always rely on Taz to brighten up an otherwise boring week.”
Morgan gazed at Fallon for a long moment, then reached out and took Taz’s glass from his hand and swallowed the contents. “I think I’m going to need that more than you do.”
Taz vented a soft laugh, rescued his glass and refilled it.
“Morgan,” Kane’s voice was uneasy, his eyes troubled when she turned her head to look at him. “it was difficult to kill the last pack of this type. If this one is truly worse, then…”
Morgan nodded in agreement. “This pack is much worse. Bigger, more vicious.”
“This pack?” Fallon chimed in, eyes jumping back and forth from Morgan to Kane to Taz with a look that read both suspicion and curiosity. “Last pack? Why am I getting the impression I’m the only one in the room who hasn’t seen this movie?”
Kane shot the two elders an admonishing glance before turning his attention to his long-time friend. “I’m sorry, Diego. I assumed you had been briefed.”
“Ah, no. They didn’t. I haven’t.”
“Welcome to the club, amigo,” Taz stage whispered.
“All right. Long story, but I’ll do my best to shorten it as much as possible,” Kane shrugged, refilling his drink. “You already know how I inherited Shadowfall and my initial wealth, so we’ll skip that part.
“What you don’t know is there was an incident… incidents, plural, that led up to and followed it. One was the death, the murder of a Human girl – Teresa Bennion. The other was the deaths of twenty-six others at the hands of a horde of child vampires and led by a Cabal Master who was once a member of my late sire’s depraved inner circle. The killings were probably a retaliation for our –“ his gaze touched Hamish and Zuron, “decision… our order to liquidate Bianca Manx and company.” His eyes moved again, landing on the room’s sole female. “We brought in specialised help, and she did an exemplary job. Although two escaped. One, officially. Bianca – Pashet – died in hiding months later. But the Cabal Master escaped to create his pack of child monsters. He, too, got away while the pack was being dealt with. And, according to latest information, he has also passed on. His apprentice hasn’t, however. It’s him and a new pack we’re now dealing with. And that, as they say, is that.”
“Child vampires. I’d heard rumours about a pack,” Fallon replied. “That they were animalistic. I dismissed it as just that – a rumour. I mean… who turns kids?”
“Animalistic doesn’t even come close,” Morgan told him. “Once they’re turned, because of their age, they have no concept of action and consequence, no morals. They kill for sport and pleasure. The more time they spend together, the more the pack mentality takes hold.”
Taz saw the horror in her eyes, quickly masked, when she glanced at him and poured her a double shot of vodka. She accepted it without comment and drained it before continuing. “We didn’t know what we were walking into that first time.” Her eyes met Kane’s once more. “This time we know.”
“Just out of curiosity, what makes this pack worse or different from the first?” Fallon asked, the question aimed at no one in particular.
“Because the Cabal bad guy, this time, is losing his mind,” Taz replied. “He’s going whacko, and he’s using a go-between, a proxy he controls to control the pack.”
“The first time the Master himself controlled the pack,” Morgan joined in. “A Cabal Master in full control of both his faculties and his abilities. In this case, because the apprentice is just that – an apprentice – and losing his mental strengths, the proxy is another child, not versed in Cabal magic.”
“From what we can tell, his insanity is leaking through to his proxy and then to the pack itself.” Hamish crossed the room and rested his hand on Morgan’s shoulder. “That is both their strength and their weakness. If Rego is off-balance, then so is the pack.”
“And that brings us back to square one – the location of their safe haven,” Fallon pointed out.
“I believe I might be able to help with that. A way to find them, that is,” Kane offered. “I have a friend, she’s an FBI agent who works in their Behaviour Analysis Department. And what they do is something similar to what I did back in the day when I was a Trimis Amaunet – a mediator-archon – for the Council of Parliament. They call it profiling, a process of extrapolating information about a person based on known traits or tendencies.”
He paused to pour himself a large goblet of brandy, then continued. “Consider this. Our Cabal offender is essentially a serial killer. And all serious murderers adhere to certain inescapable patterns. The main one being they all start out small and build up, getting more confident and bolder and more savage as they go along.
“I have yet to see the video that’s been mentioned, but I’d be willing to bet that the killing it recorded goes off in a fairly smooth manner, which signifies that they have done it before – maybe several times. Now, it stands to reason this child pack didn’t come readily assembled. He had to build it up. And then they had to be coached, nurtured, trained to work as a unit, a team. Meaning experimentation, finding out what system worked best for them. I’ll also bet anyone in this room there have been other, smaller incidents before the big one that no one flashed on. Find out about them and you’ll have an idea where their haven is.”
“Profiling takes time, which is something we don’t have a lot of. How soon could your friend get to work?” Hamish asked.
“We don’t need a profile. We know who, we know how,” Kane said, extracting his cell phone. “In order to find out where we only need a little shared information from our friendly neighbourhood police department.” He keyed in a pre-set number and moved a short distance away, into a secluded corner.
He was gone less than thirty seconds.
“Captain Kirsten Pomeroy at SPD’s Special Crimes Unit. She’ll look through the recent homicide reports and get back to me. It shouldn’t take –“ his sentence was interrupted by his cell’s ring tone and Kane swivelled away from the group to respond. After a minute of muted conversation, he cut it off and turned back to face them.
“There were four incidents – eight murders all totalled, that happened over the last six weeks, the final one being two weeks ago,” he told them. “All mutilations of varying degrees. All families – the husband and wife were the victims, the children – five of them aged eleven through to fourteen – are missing. The last one, investigated by Detectives William Moseley and Virginia Frost, noted child-sized handprints at the crime scene, but no children’s bodies.
“All the incidents happened in or around the Lake Washington area.” He paused at the sharp intake of breath from Morgan. “Yes, that’s where the haven is. The spot from the original pack.”
~*~
They travelled in two cars – Morgan and Taz in one, Fallon and Kane in the other. Since Morgan had been there before, she drove while Taz checked and double-checked their weapons and ammunition.
“The house is over three floors,” Morgan spoke over the roar of the engine. “It also has a basement which is where the original pack trained.”
There was a short slash of silence, broken only when Taz chuckled. “You know, I just thought about something.” He half-twisted to look at her. “Even if we survive this, I might not live to see another night.” He waited until her eyes flicked toward him before finishing. “Hamish still doesn’t know about his car.”
Morgan threw him a startled look, then laughed. She lifted a hand from the steering wheel to lay it against his thigh. “With any luck we’ll be successful and he’ll be too happy about that to do too much damage to you.”
Taz laughed again although his tone contained significantly less amusement. “Yeah, I know. It’s that ‘much’ part which worries me.”
“Let’s deal with one life-threatening situation at a time,” Morgan replied. She pointed out of the window as she slowed the
car to a stop. “We’re here.”
“Holy Lugosi,” Taz murmured, leaning forward to survey the house and its surrounding landscape through the windshield. “The middle of nowhere… dark clouds in a moonlit sky… wrought-iron gates with gargoyle statues. And that house. Tell me we didn’t take a wrong turn and wind up on the back lot at Universal Studios. All we need now is a screeching black cat and a wolf – make that a werewolf – howling in the background.”
Releasing her seatbelt, Morgan opened the door and climbed out, stretching cramped muscles. “You’ll probably have to settle for German Shepherds and Rottweilers – not as much of a cliché but far more effective as a deterrent,” she told him as he exited on the opposite side.
The car containing Fallon and Kane purred to a stop behind them and both men joined them seconds later.
“I’d hoped never to see this place again,” Kane murmured, looking toward the gates.
“Are they really that bad?” Fallon asked.
Kane nodded. “Imagine a wild starving pack of animals, then put yourself as the single bone thrown in the middle to sate them.”
“Sounds like my last job in Somalia,” Fallon quipped, chuckling at his witticism. Mirth that died quickly, however, after noting the sombre expressions of his cohorts. “Guys, give me a break, okay? I’m in virgin territory here. Usually the people I’m hired to go after are adults, fully grown and armed with assault rifles. Hunting down kids is a new one on me.”
“You can’t think of them as children,” Morgan told him. “You can’t hesitate, they’ll tear you apart.”
“I didn’t believe it either,” Taz patted his friend on the shoulder. “But last night –“ he shook his head. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“All right then,” Kane said, after a moment of heavy silence, glancing back at his car and the vague form in its back seat.
“I still think it was a bad idea bringing her along,” Taz commented.
“It’s her nephew – no way around it,” said Kane. “Besides, I’ve known Kizzy for a lot of years. With that Rroma stubbornness there’s no way we could talk her out of it.
“We’re all equipped with remote cameras and audio setups – all of them link to her laptop. She’ll be able to see and hear everything and follow us from out here.”
“Whatever,” Taz gave a resigned shrug. “Let’s do a final weapons and equipment check and get our shit together.”
They did so in silence, the tension in the air palpable – there was none of the usual bantering that went on between the three men when they had worked together before and Morgan stood slightly off to one side, unused to working as part of a team, going through her own pre-job routine.
“Okay,” Kane spoke up, breaking the silence. “Let’s check the visual and audio connections with Kizzy and then we’ll head in.”
~*~
The plan was simple…
Plan, Taz snorted to himself. If the past night was any indication of what they could expect here in the lair of the ‘beast-pack’ itself, making a plan of action was like expecting to organise a bar-room brawl.
They split into two teams. Team #2 – Fallon and Kane – would enter the house from the front to alert Rego, the Cabal Apprentice, and draw the attention of the child pack. Team #1 – Morgan and Taz – would enter from the rear, wait for Team #2 to engage the pack, then locate and engage Rego.
Getting past the dogs was easy enough – too easy, in fact. With Fallon and Kane making enough noise to draw the attention of both guard dogs and the dead, Morgan and Taz were able to slip around the back and sneak in through the kitchen, which was empty. With weapons drawn and ready, Morgan took point and led the way into the main house.
“If they haven’t restructured anything, the door to the basement is up ahead on the left,” she said quietly.
“Let’s get into position then and wait for Kane and Fallon to do their job.” They crept forward, then paused when their earpieces erupted with a storm of intermittent shouts, curses and gunfire. “Is it me or does it sound like the job is doing them?”
Morgan vented a soft chuckle and shook her head at him, looking down the corridor toward the front of the house. “Do we carry on or go and help them?”
“You kidding? Fallon was a pirate before he was turned, he’s a mercenary for hire now. And Kane… well, you know he’s been around for forever. If they can’t handle it –“ Taz left the sentence unfinished, knowing he’d gotten his point across. “Let’s stick to the plan. You ready?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” she replied and took a deep breath. “Let’s do this.”
Taz waited until Morgan was poised at the left of the basement door, then jerked it open and leapt through with guns levelled on the bottom of the stairs. Morgan followed, and both stood peering down into the pitch darkness, braced for a reaction or any sign of occupancy.
“Can’t smell or hear a thing,” he said, voice lowered to a near whisper. “Could be nobody’s down there.”
“Unlikely.” She started down the stairs, eyes trained on the darkness. Taz followed her. The moment their feet hit the floor, the whispering started.
“This again?” Taz growled.
“If something works, why change it?” Morgan touched his arm. “Can you ignore it?”
“Give me a minute,” he replied. He glanced down at where Morgan’s hand rested on his forearm and frowned. “I wonder…”
“What?” Morgan didn’t look at him, her attention on the darkness surrounding them.
“Give me your wrist.” As he spoke, he curved his fingers around her wrist and lifted it. “Stay focused,” he told her.
“Ouch!” Morgan felt the sting of his fangs bite into the soft skin of her inner wrist and he drew on her blood for a few seconds before raising his head, tilting it to listen and then grinned.
“I was right,” he said, the satisfaction evident in his voice.
“About what?”
“Every time you touch me, the whispering fades. I wondered if your blood would do the same.” His grin widened. “It did one better. It’s nulled the effects.”
Morgan frowned, then shook her head. “That’s just weird,” she muttered.
Taz laughed softly. “Maybe so, but let’s not waste the opportunity.” He indicated that they start to move, and they eased forward into the darkness. Taz took the lead, his night vision being much better. Step by slow step they moved further into the basement.
While expected, the attack came fast and sudden. Two young boys, silent and quick, appeared on their left and dove forwards, arms outstretched. Morgan ducked the clawed fingers by mere millimetres. As she straightened, she saw two more reaching for Taz. Their attackers made no sound as they moved, throwing themselves time and again at Morgan, too fast for her to aim her gun.
“They’re trying to tire us,” Taz’s voice was soft. “Wear us down.”
Morgan gave a jerky nod, her eyes never leaving her two combatants. They came at her again, and this time, instead of focusing on the first one to reach her, Morgan sidestepped him as he neared and threw herself at the second, taking him to the floor. She didn’t bother trying to get a clean shot, simply pushed her gun into his stomach and pulled the trigger. She got back to her feet before the other was on her and she staggered back down under the frenzied attack.
The young boy’s attack was so furious, he pushed past her guard. Before she could stop him, he’d sank his teeth into her shoulder. Morgan hissed and jerked backwards, but not before he’d gained a mouthful of blood. He smiled, his eyes glittering, blood dripping down his chin and Morgan raised her gun. Before she could fire, a frothy gurgle came from his throat and he staggered forwards a step, hands reaching out. Morgan stepped back and watched as the young vampire’s eyes rolled back and he dropped to the floor.
“What the...” Morgan stared down at the unconscious body in front of her and then spun around to help Taz. She’d only taken two steps before more of the young pack materialised out o
f the darkness – three, four, six, nine and still they kept coming until there were too many to count.
“This could be the one,” Taz murmured as they both backed away.
“I will not be remembered as the one who was killed by an eleven-year-old child!” Morgan snapped, throwing him a quick glare.
The image of a pack of ravenous wolves; of sharks in a feeding frenzy; valid though it might have been, paled in comparison to the savage attack of the child horde. They rushed out of the darkness from all directions, in pairs and trios, snarling and shrieking; their claws whistling through the air as they flailed wildly. Taz emptied both Berettas, at point blank range, and still they came. Their blitzkrieg assault so relentless that he had no time to reload and was forced to use his guns like clubs.
“Holy fuck,” Taz cursed as a pair of tiny beasts rammed into him from the left and right, one sinking her fangs into his bicep while the other did her damnedest to tear the flesh from his left cheek and neck. Steeling himself against the excruciating pain, Taz dropped into a grouch, then snapped erect again, twisting to throw off the one at his right. With a snarl brought up from deep within him, he buried one of the Berettas into the top of the second’s skull. Both attackers had no sooner been dislodged, however, when he was assailed by three more.
“I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up,” he growled, the rest of his declaration stifled by a bloody swiping punch that ripped his face open from right eye to chin.
Morgan was faring just as badly. With blood dripping into her eyes from a gash across her forehead and the fingers of her left hand struggling to grip her SIG due to a damaged wrist, she was faltering and making mistakes.
When men attacked en-masse there was still some kind of pattern. If one of their numbers was hurt, they’d fall back and regroup – not so with this child pack. They showed no interest in each other. When one fell, another took their place with barely a glance at their downed comrade. They were being sent to die or to kill, and they knew it. Not only did they know it, they didn’t care, and that gave an added ferocity to their attacks.