Darkness Wanes

by Susan Illene

  Melena lifted her head. “Try it again.”

  The female nephilim swung her fist. His mate rolled to the side, avoiding the blow while simultaneously grabbing Sabelle’s ankle. Melena jerked her opponent’s leg out from under her and sent her flat onto the ground. Then she scrambled on top of Sabelle, holding a pistol in her right hand. It was then Lucas remembered Melena had strapped a Sig Sauer to her ankle before they left home earlier. She’d let herself get hit as an excuse to crouch low and grab it from under her pant leg.

  Melena shoved the barrel into Sabelle’s gaping mouth and pulled the trigger twice. Blood and tissue splattered everywhere. She’d damaged her opponent’s head to the point the female nephilim was no longer recognizable.

  Gasps rose up from the nerou, most of them having never seen a gun in action—outside of a movie, anyhow. Melena stood, holding the weapon down at her side. At this range, he could detect the pain and weakness afflicting her through their mating bond, but outwardly she hid it well.

  All anyone could see of her was a female warrior who stood proud after vanquishing her foe. Under any other circumstances, Lucas might have been tempted to take her to the ground and have his way with her right then. The picture she presented was almost undoing his resolve, but internally she was barely holding herself together.

  Melena let her gaze run across the assembled crowd, head held high. “This was your next lesson for the day—you do not need to be stronger than your opponent to defeat them.”

  “Is she dead?” someone asked.

  “No,” Melena answered, looking down at Sabelle. “She’ll recover by the end of the day and be as good as new.”

  “Is it cheating to use such a weapon?” This came from Tormod.

  She lifted her brows. “Is it cheating to attack someone a tenth as powerful as you?”

  “She has a point,” Olivia said, nodding.

  Patrick spoke up, “Why didn’t you just shoot her in the first place?”

  “For two reasons.” Melena lifted a finger. “For one, if she knew I had a gun her first priority would have been to take it from me. Since she’s stronger and faster, it’s likely she would have gotten it. I had to keep the weapon hidden until I had her at a disadvantage.”

  “Makes sense,” someone said. Lucas enjoyed watching the way the nerou listened to her. Melena was easier to relate to than him, and she could explain strategy in a way he never could because he usually came from a position of greater strength.

  “The second reason is that nephilim can take a lot of damage. If I’d shot multiple rounds at Sabelle from a distance, she might have been able to keep coming at me. I needed to fire point blank into her head to be sure she stayed down. I’ve learned these lessons the hard way, but I hope today’s example will allow you to get it right the first time.”

  “Do you always use guns against supernaturals?” Patrick asked. Lucas was pleased to see the male sensor gaining enthusiasm to learn. Melena had just proven her earlier point that he couldn’t allow strength differences to deter him.

  “Every case is different. Nephilim can’t be killed—at least not by any of us. The best thing you can do is disable them as fast as possible. For other races, you have more options and a sword might be the better weapon.”

  Olivia’s expression was filled with awe. “Can you teach us?”

  “Can I see the gun?” Tormod asked.

  Melena shook her head. “I’m glad you could learn something from this demonstration, but I didn’t plan it. Lucas, Kerbasi, and the others are your instructors. They are every bit as qualified, if not more so than me to teach you.”

  Several of the nerou groaned in disappointment.

  “We will see about her coming back again,” Lucas said, stepping out in front of them. “Melena would be the best to teach you about firearms. For now, Kerbasi will meet you in the lecture hall for your next class.”

  As the nerou left the field, Lucas joined his mate. She was looking down at Sabelle with a frustrated expression. “No matter how hard I try not to react to her, it never works.”

  “She’ll learn to accept you with time,” he said, rubbing her shoulder. “How are you?”

  Melena lifted her shirt, revealing a fist-sized bruise on her belly. “Sabelle hits like a sledgehammer, but I’ll heal.”

  “We should get you cleaned up.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “That bad, huh?”

  “I love my woman covered in her enemy’s blood, but I fear Patrick may become ill if he must ride home with you still looking like that.”

  The sensor in question ducked his head. “It is rather gross.”

  “Give me your arm,” she said to Lucas. He was surprised she asked for his assistance, but he recognized the pain must have been excruciating for her to do so. He was tempted to punish Sabelle for this later after she woke. If not for the fact it would undermine Melena’s performance, he would certainly do it.

  “What about me?” Udo called out.

  Lucas turned to glare at the nephilim, who still lay on the ground. “Stay there. You may get up when Sabelle does.”

  Melena clutched at her stomach with her free hand, holding back a laugh. “He’s going to hate you for that.”

  “Good.” Lucas did not care what the fool thought of him.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Melena

  Patrick and I crossed the street, heading toward the downtown building where the Department of Homeland Security maintained their Fairbanks office. I was surprised to see a line of people waiting to get inside, considering it was half past nine in the morning. Several of them gave us disgruntled looks as we bypassed them to enter the lobby. The DHS office was at the end of a long corridor. As we continued past the line, my sensitive hearing couldn’t help picking up various conversations.

  “The damn government better do something about this,” one man said angrily.

  “I want to know where the werewolves are. I bet they’re hot,” a young woman remarked to her friend.

  “How can they expect us to live near vampires?” an older lady asked.

  More people were afraid than not, and paranoia thickened the air. I strode down the corridor with an authoritative stride and my chin up. Patrick walked next to me, mimicking me reasonably well. Agent O’Connell had called to warn us about the crowds before we left that morning. Though I still hadn’t expected it to be quite this bad, I’d made the decision that we would wear suits and present ourselves as professionals. The last thing we needed was to draw any suspicion. People needed to believe we were human and there to help them.

  The mixture of anxiety and anger coming from the line was enough to give me a migraine. The angel’s peace spell had worn off not long before I returned to Alaska. It must have been nice while it lasted, though I hadn’t been around to enjoy it. The humans lining up outside the DHS office were there to lodge their complaints about the supernatural community, whether their grievances were real or imagined.

  “I’m almost positive a vamp has been sneaking into my house and sucking my blood during the night,” a young guy said. He stood toward the front of the line by the agency door.

  I couldn’t help responding. “Have you invited any vampires into your home?”

  “Um.” He frowned. “Not that I know about.”

  “Some of the legends about them are true. They can’t get in if you don’t invite them.” It wasn’t that I planned to give away a bunch of vampire secrets, but if telling people a thing or two would help them sleep at night, then it couldn’t hurt.

  A middle-aged woman narrowed her eyes at me. “How do you know?”

  I schooled my features into a blank expression. “It’s my job to know, ma’am.”

  Before she or anyone else could ask more questions, Patrick and I entered the DHS office, passing through a protection ward I hadn’t expected. They’d gotten more serious in my absence. A blond secretary stood behind her desk, giving instructions to a human on how to fill out a form. Lines of exhaustion
reflected on her features. O’Connell said this had been going on all week, but now I understood why he was so desperate to get more help.

  Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out a badge the agency had issued me before I’d gone to Purgatory. I flashed it at the secretary. “I’m Melena Sanders, and this is Patrick Jones. We’re here to see O’Connell.”

  “We’ve been expecting you,” she said in a clipped voice, then pointed down the hallway. “You can go on back.”

  I glanced at the people waiting in the corridor and returned my attention to her. “Are you just having them fill out forms? Nothing else?”

  “Yes. We’ll go through their statements later and call in those who appear to have a valid complaint. The police got tired of handling it and started sending people to us this week. They’ve been coming in non-stop ever since.” She sighed. The secretary struck me as the type of woman who usually had things under complete control. This had to be driving her crazy.

  “Patrick,” I said, turning to him. “I’m going to need to talk to O’Connell alone for a few minutes. Why don’t you help this woman out by getting a stack of forms and handing them out to the people in line?”

  The secretary’s stern face brightened. “That is an excellent idea. I’ve got some spare pens we can give to those who need them as well.”

  “But, I thought…” Patrick began.

  “Take these and start handing them down the line,” the woman said, shoving forms and a box of pens at him.

  I patted him on the arm. “You’ll do fine. If anyone asks any questions, just tell them you’re not at liberty to say. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  Before he could argue, I took off. The secretary seemed like the type who could keep him busy until I returned and it would do him some good to help out. I found O’Connell at his desk, looking over a stack of the complaint forms. It was almost a foot high. I prayed I didn’t get drafted into helping him with those, especially since we had more pressing concerns.

  The agent held up a sheet of paper, annoyance on his face. “This idiot is claiming his neighbor’s dog is a werewolf.”

  “You never know. Being someone’s pet is a great way to get free food,” I said, taking a seat in the chair across from him.

  His lips thinned. “Werewolves can’t turn during the day.”

  “True.” I straightened my jacket, remembering why I rarely wore a suit. “So what have you learned about that cult group?”

  O’Connell tossed the werewolf complaint form into a pile he’d started on the floor. I had a pretty good guess which ones those denoted. A much smaller stack sat on the corner of his desk for the ones he likely planned to investigate further.

  “The main office has been looking into it. The leader, Grant, has not been easy to track and changes his appearance frequently. They have pinpointed a man we believe to be his second-in-command. He moves around a lot recruiting for the group, but we’re working on finding out his next stop.”

  I perked up. “I want in on the arrest.”

  “Actually...” He rubbed at his temples. “The agency has become so overwhelmed lately they may let us spearhead it, depending on the circumstances. I’ll have to let you know.”

  I refrained from rubbing my hands in glee. Nothing would make me feel better than nabbing one of the bad guys. If I was ever going to get out of the emotional slump I’d been in since Purgatory, I needed to do something productive.

  “Give me a name and address and I’ll be there.”

  He nodded. “As I said, we’re not certain where he’s going next, but as soon as we know, I’ll get you on a plane. In the meantime, there’s plenty to do around here.”

  I inwardly cringed, visions of complaint forms dancing around in my head. “Have you learned anything else about the group?”

  “We’re certain they’re active in at least a dozen cities.” He pulled a file from his desk drawer and handed it to me. “Some of the low-level members haven’t been difficult to find, but it’s the leaders we want more.”

  “Agreed.” I scanned the file. It mostly contained information on various websites they’d linked to the group, vague correspondence, and a list of user names. Other than it being clear the cult planned something big, there wasn’t much to go on.

  “Didn’t you say you’d be bringing another sensor with you?” O’Connell asked.

  “Oh, yeah.” I handed the file back to him. “Patrick is outside helping your secretary. She looked a little overwhelmed, and I wanted to see what you had first before bringing him in.”

  O’Connell’s brows drew together. “I know he has provided us with a lot of valuable intel so far, but do you trust him?”

  “I’ve questioned him thoroughly, and he seems genuine. We’ll just have to be careful until he proves himself.” It was the only thing I could be sure about at the moment. Patrick could turn out to be a great resource if he was trustworthy.

  The agent sat back in his chair. “Alright. Send him in and I’ll talk to him. He might have some insights into this group we haven’t considered, but I will require him to submit to a full background check.”

  “Please do.”

  It couldn’t hurt for the agency to dig a little deeper into Patrick, and while I didn’t care for O’Connell’s cocky attitude, he was good at his job and would see things from a different angle than me. More than once when we’d interrogated detainees in the Middle East, we’d found working together was more effective than apart.

  “Good.” He frowned at the mess on his desk. “I’ll try to find the forms for him to fill out.”

  “Be back in a minute.” I headed off to grab Patrick.

  I found him standing with the secretary at her desk, listening to an irate man give a speech about one of his neighbors. In this case, he thought the elderly lady across the street must be a witch.

  The man gestured wildly with his hands. “She’s always on her front porch sweeping with one of those old-style wooden brooms and givin’ me the evil eye. I moved to my house six months ago, and I’ve had a bad cough that she must have…”

  “There are no witches in Fairbanks,” I said, interrupting him.

  He glared at me. “How would you know?”

  “Supernatural politics,” I answered ambiguously. “In general, they aren’t welcome here. If your neighbor is a witch, it’s not the magical kind.”

  “But…”

  I gave him a stern look and repeated my new catchphrase. “Trust me, it’s my job to know these things.”

  “I’ve got your complaint form, and we will review it thoroughly,” the secretary said, giving him a civil smile. “You may go now.”

  He stomped away, muttering under his breath.

  “If only I could get rid of them all that easily.” The blond woman sighed and eyed me with newfound respect. She hadn’t waved the next person inside, so the people lined up in the corridor probably hadn’t heard her, though at this point, she might not have cared.

  “I have to steal Patrick away now, but he’ll be back soon.” I pulled the sensor into the hall. “How do you feel about background checks?” I asked.

  He knitted his brows. “Huh?”

  I paused a few feet from O’Connell’s office. “Well, if you really want to be proactive against Grant’s group and protect innocent people, this is the place to do it. There’s a chance they’ll hire you as a consultant, but you’ve got to agree to background checks first.”

  “You mean I could work officially, and they might even pay me?” he asked.

  “If you’re useful.”

  A mixture of expressions crossed his face. “I, uh, never dreamed I’d be able to do something like this.”

  “So you’re not against working for the government?” I was trying to assess his true feelings on the matter.

  He’d seemed semi-interested when I’d spoken to him about coming here last night, but after returning from the nerou compound, we’d both been tired. He’d trained harder than I expected and managed to take
Tormod down a few times—though he’d also been thrown to the ground many times himself.

  “Not at all,” he said, a hint of excitement in his voice. “I’ve been laying low for so long and living off the land that the idea of holding a regular job sounds perfect. Especially since I can use my abilities for good and be able to do more for my daughter.”

  It was then that something clicked for me. Part of his reluctance in staying here might have had to do with his financial situation. Lucas couldn’t find any work history on Patrick beyond college, which meant whatever resources he’d used to survive couldn’t have been unlimited. I should have thought about that before.

  “Alright. I’ll introduce you to O’Connell then.”

  He nodded, and we went into the office.

  “Have a seat, Patrick,” the agent said, gesturing at a chair. “I’ve got some questions for you and I expect honest answers.”

  I left them to go grab coffee. It was going to take a lot of caffeine to get through today.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Melena

  We pulled up to the house after a full day at the DHS office. Following a long talk with Patrick that went surprisingly well, O’Connell ran a couple of the quicker background checks on Emily’s father. His police record came back clear, no red flags came up on the agency database, and he had a clean credit report. The more in-depth investigation on him would take a while.

  For now, we’d hired Patrick as a temporary consultant. He wouldn’t get to see any confidential reports, but he could act as an advisor and assist in low-level office matters such as handling the complaint forms. I was almost certain that was the main reason O’Connell took him on as quickly as he did.

  Leaving Patrick to grab the dinner we’d picked up on the way home, I headed inside and found Lucas sitting in the den watching the news. They were showing a report about two witch sisters in Salt Lake City who’d been shot to death in their beds. The attackers had executed their plan so quickly that the victims never even woke up. Considering witches put protection spells on their homes, a sensor had to be involved, but as of yet no one had been apprehended for the murders. I’d already heard about it at the office and didn’t want to listen to it anymore. Cases like that one were starting to crop up with increasing frequency every day. I picked up the remote and changed the channel to something with boring commercials.