by JK Cooper
Wasteful?
That is correct. Stop.
Most of her worry that morning had little to do with getting her pack on three charter buses that smelled like gym socks and stale crackers. The Hunters were leaving, most of them anyway. Only a handful were staying, mainly to keep tabs on the new pack and report any progress against the Advent. Her father hadn’t decided what he was doing.
He has decided. He just hasn’t told me yet.
Her Omega skills were growing. She could sense the Wiccans and even the Hunters in her group. She could influence their feelings. She could touch upon their memories. Her father was no exception.
Grant was leaving her. He’d packed a backpack, talked to Gennesaret about his plan, and even told Kale. Shelby had felt it all, but she also knew he hadn’t told her yet as a protective, fatherly thing, not to hurt her. He thought delaying the hurt made it sting less. It didn’t.
Bubba lumbered up to the bus, wearing an overstuffed tactical vest. They had more food and supplies, courtesy of the Hunters, but Bubba hadn’t packed on quite the weight he normally carried. Kale didn’t trust the food not to be laced with silver, but so far it had proven safe.
Shelby blinked at Bubba. “What is that?”
“Multitasking, that’s what it is.” He tugged on some Velcro and stuffed a carbo-load bar into a pocket.
“Multitasking?”
“It’s bulletproof, just in case I let one by. Can’t be snatching ‘em out of the air all the time. And then all the calories a growing Playa Killa could ever need. Ask me what I call it?”
“Do I dare?”
“Don’t be mean now, girl. Ask.”
“What do you call it?”
“Bubba’s Super Fly Snack Pack, patent pending, of course.” Bubba wiped his nose with the back of a hand and looked off toward the south. “Mr. Copeland was gonna help me set patents and such up.”
Shelby looked down.
Bubba randomly leaned forward to hug her, his grip vise-like as he crushed chips and other goodies stuffed into a dozen pockets. “Wasn’t your fault, girl. You remember that. Elias was a big wolf. He made his own decisions.”
She sniffed and nodded. “I know.”
“Your boy Kale better be good at business though. After I help you two beat the big bad wolf, I expect some restitution.”
“Deal.”
She wiped her own nose as he stepped onto the bus and Grant stepped off the other one, his backpack slung over his shoulders, straps tight against his chest. The sight of him like that made Shelby miss Sadie. The fiery girl would have had something to say about how hot he looked in a tight backpack or something.
“You’re going with them.” It wasn’t a question.
He caught her tone. “Yes. I have to.”
“Do you, though?” Shelby tried to keep any hint of petulance out of her voice. Thanks, Eira. She felt much like a child, selfishly wanting her daddy to stay with her and not go off to work.
He sighed. “They are rudderless. Jack never made it out. I thought knocking him out was a kindness. Now I’m not so sure.” Apparently, while Shelby had been enthralled by the Isluxua and unlocking the first key of Ascension, Jack Wilstead had put the barrel of his gun to her head. Grant summarily had taken care of Jack’s wayward intensions, leaving the Master Prelate of the Hunter Order unconscious on the shore of the muddy creek bed. Grant looked off to where several Hunters loaded into a van. One saluted his way. He saluted back, stiff and sad. “Jack’s probably dead. We didn’t see eye to eye, but he wasn’t the monster you think.”
“I’m beginning to realize Hunters are people, doing what they think is right, even if it’s horrible.” She shook her head.
Grant swiped at an eye. “My little girl is growing up too fast. If I don’t convince new leadership to work with you, things will go back to horrible. You know the world has gone mad when I’m going back to the Hunters.”
She swallowed hard and nodded. “Totally mad.”
He wrapped a hard arm around her and pulled her close, squeezing the air out of her. “Stick to the side roads. Avoid the bigger cities. Mareus has been busy. Nowhere is safe.”
Shelby stared at a pillar of smoke in the distance that punctuated his point. There was a matching one in the other direction. War had broken out across the United States while they had been hiding, healing, and deciding their next moves. “You better call every night, Grant. I’m more worried about you than you are about me.”
He kissed her forehead. “I will.” And then he turned, strode to the van, and vanished behind a sliding door. She felt him though, even as the van turned down a dirt road trailing dust, even as the buses carried her in another direction.
Athena relished the opportunity to explore the capabilities of her new armor and the body of her Immortal Wolf. She had an Immortal Wolf! She led a group of Lycans through one of the suburbs of San Antonio. In her wolf, she loped at speeds she’d never been capable of before. She crashed through the metal doors of a Hunter strong hold and tore the men inside to ribbons before they could reach their guns.
She snuffed out the multiple pockets of resistance, one by one, circling inward toward the town hall, where a few of the community leaders had barricaded themselves inside against the rapidly decaying fabric of their fragile law and order. Everyone in Texas had a gun and a plan, but few were prepared for werewolves. It wasn’t part of any end-of-the-world plans to deal with giant wolves who heal faster than most can shoot. Too much time wasted playing zombie video games.
She shifted and stepped into the beam of one of the spotlights they’d set up on the rooftop, letting the armor cover her naked skin just as she crossed the threshold of light. I’m the worst tease. “This will be far easier if you just surrender your little town to the Advent. Everyone else has. Even San Antonio and Dallas have already given in.”
“Never!” someone shouted from inside.
“Perhaps a little more motivation?” She motioned to one of her group in human form who pushed a woman to the forefront.
Is that necessary? Ptyas asked.
This is war. We do what we must to gain control. Now shut up. Athena was not used to a separate voice in her head. She’d longed to have an Immortal Wolf of her own, but she wondered how any of the Lycans with them stayed sane.
Maybe they don’t. Athena wasn’t sure whose thought that was.
She growled and grabbed the woman by the arm with her half-shifted hand, her claws digging into the woman’s flesh. Athena dragged her into the light. Someone swore inside the building, loud enough to hear even without wolf ears.
“Charlie Higgins is the mayor, correct?” Silence answered Athena. “You recognize his wife, I think. You do not want to see what happens to her if you refuse.”
A bullet pinged off her armor, right above her heart. The ricocheted round slammed into one of the wolves lurking in the shadows at her command. The Lycan whined as silver sizzled through flesh. She glanced down at the shiny metal protecting her. Not even a scratch. This stuff is cool. Her scythe appeared in her hand and found the woman’s neck, just touching skin. “Someone in there has a better zombie plan than most, but you never planned on me. Surrender now and she lives.”
“Don’t you do it, Chuck!” the woman screamed and slammed the back of her head into Athena’s nose. Bone cracked.
Athena gritted her teeth as her broken nose snapped back into place and began healing. “That was stupid.”
“Go to Hell!” The woman tried to elbow her in the side, but the blow slid off her sleek armor like water off oil. “I’d rather die.”
“Have it your way.” Athena partially shifted and bit into the woman’s neck. She let the woman slump to the ground as a spray of bullets came from the building. The bullets bounced off her armor as she walked languidly toward the building with her grinning wolf visage held firm. A ricochet grazed an exposed cheek. It began to heal a split second later.
Athena raised her scythe. The dual blades flashed purple as it flew the remaining
thirty feet, slicing through glass, a thick conference table, and a filing cabinet that had been used to block a window. A man grunted inside as the symbol of death cut through skull bone. The double blades reappeared in Athena’s hand a second later. That’s convenient.
The shots stopped. “We surrender.” Someone waved a handkerchief out a broken window. “Chuck’s dead.”
It is over. You won, Ptyas said.
Athena growled. “No, they had their chance.” She fully shifted. Her massive wolf broke through the front doors, blowing the ancient wood off hinges and scattering office furniture in all directions. She poured fear and despair out of her as she towered over the men cowering inside. They died whimpering and soiling themselves.
The campground had been vacated in a hurry. There were dying coals in some of the firepits, a few tents standing, several ice chests left behind, and one fifth wheel parked beneath a tree.
Shelby sniffed, smelling the coppery tang of blood. She knew that was a couple days old. Lycans had passed through here but had not stayed long after driving the humans out. I hope they weren’t Feral, looking for me. I’d hate to think I made this happen.
Eira cocked her head to the side inside her. No. The Feral know how to avoid people. You’ve seen that. This was the Advent.
Shelby made her way from the bus to the fifth wheel camper. She knew what she would find there, but she had to be certain. She could smell death before she opened the door, but it overwhelmed her when she cracked the seal.
The man slumped against the bathroom door, still clutching the shotgun, his eyes glossed over as they stared at Shelby without a hint of life. His throat was gone. She stepped inside, slowly stepping over his feet and the puddle of blood. She closed his eyes. “I’m sorry this happened to you.”
Then she heard the heartbeat, faint, but beating faster at her words. The smell of fear mingled with hope and human waste in the air.
Kale put a hand on her shoulder.
Shelby looked back, still missing the bond that would have told him everything she was feeling and thinking. “Someone’s alive in here. He protected her.”
They found the older woman in the shower, covered in her own filth. She’d done it to mask her scent. Her husband had told her to do it, helped her do it, before he closed the door and loaded the shotgun.
Shelby shrank back at the full force of the smell. Kale ignored it. He reached down, lifted her up, and carried her out, covering her eyes as he stepped over her husband’s body. He set her gently down on a blanket with Genn and Bryanne.
“Take care of her.” He then turned to his small pack. “Check the woods for others. Scavenge food and supplies from the trailer, tents, and ice chests. Fill every container we have with water. The Hunters left us well-stocked, but we don’t know how long we’ll be out here.” He looked back at the fifth wheel. “And someone please bury that brave man.”
“George, his name was George.” The old woman coughed and then burst into tears.
“We’ll put George under that big tree on the hill.” Kale’s voice was flat, hard. “We’ll say our goodbyes to him tonight before we move on.”
The funeral took place after everyone had used the camp showers. Kale felt it appropriate that they were all clean for the funeral, but the flowery scents of shampoo and soap—the scents of the living—seemed to thicken his already heavy thoughts at the solemn event. So much death, he thought, lamenting the loss of his pack mates and father.
More death will follow, Skotha told him, and Kale’s vision darkened at the edges as he heard Skotha’s words. He felt their truth.
They huddled around the four freshly turned graves where they’d buried the three bodies found in the woods alongside George. A few others had attempted escape too late. The Wiccans and Bryanne had used spells to carve out the burial plots. Chelsea had personally picked out four large rocks to place at the head of each grave. She and Amanda used their magic to sear the name of each soul into stone beneath vine and flower designs. Kale admitted it was a nice touch.
He took charge as Shelby and Genn led the survivor, sweet Clare, up the small hill, hiding his shaking hands as he stepped behind the graves to face his pack. How did my father always make it look so easy? To be calm, sure, and decisive in the face of everything?
He had many years to master those traits. You will get there. Do not be afraid to lean on those who support you. Skotha’s wisdom sometimes annoyed Kale, but proved a comfort as the sun began to set behind the trees.
“Thank you all for coming and for your help putting these souls to rest. I just wish we had arrived earlier to do something to prevent the tragedy.” He stepped next to the stone marked Cori.
“Cori was thirty-five. Her hiking boots were well-worn. She loved the outdoors as much as any of us.” He took a step to the side, coming to stand at the head of the next grave. “Tyler had a picture of three kids in his pocket. He had people who cared for him, who will miss him. I believe he gave them a chance to get away.”
Kale looked up to see his best friend, Bubba, pulling a handkerchief out of his tactical snack vest and handing it to Amanda. The poor girl had lost her friend not long ago too. Kale noticed a small wiener dog at Bubba’s feet. The dog chewed on some beef jerky. Bubba caught his look and shrugged.
Kale shook his head at his friend but then gave Amanda a small nod to acknowledge her pain as he took another step to the side. “Kathy had a new manicure, her nails painted in bright paisley designs. She held a hatchet in those manicured hands when we found her. There was blood on the blade. She fought bravely against terrible odds. We can do the same.”
Kale paused after he stepped to the side, staring down at the stone that had been marked with George. The vines wrapped around a shotgun and the words “Husband, Father, Warrior” had been etched beneath it. He glanced up at Chelsea and nodded, not even trying to hide his shaking hands. Let them see my anger and grief.
“George served in the Marines. He leaves behind his lovely wife Clare, four daughters in Arkansas, and six grandchildren. He would not back down when certain death came, bravely sacrificing himself. And his bravery saved a life. He will not be forgotten. The Advent will see a reckoning for every life they have taken.” He knelt and touched the headstone. “Goodbye, George. I wish I could have known you.”
Kale stood, stepped to the side, and asked Clare if she would like to say a few words. The woman shook her head and embraced Kale, her tears wetting his shoulder. Genn came up beside her and wrapped her thin arms around them both. Shelby joined them, and Kale could feel the waves of comfort flowing from her. She’s getting better at that. It still isn’t the same as our bond was, though.
Kale cleared his throat inside the cocoon of embraces. “It’s time we go. The sun is almost down.”
Each of the women peeled off slowly. Genn took his hand and they walked down the hill together. He glanced back to see Shelby holding Clare. The sun burned red behind them, an effect of the smoke.
“Leave them, dear.” Genn tugged him toward the buses. “Let Shelby do her job after you’ve so marvelously done yours.”
Kale could feel the comfort and love blaze behind him. It almost felt like their bond renewing for a moment, but it was just Shelby doing all she could for the grieving widow.
Bubba sat on the bus steps, the wiener dog curled up on his lap.
Kale raised an eyebrow. “Where did the dog come from?”
“Just showed up during the funeral. Must’ve smelled my Super Fly Snack Pack.”
Kale rubbed his forehead. “Another terrible name. You can’t keep it.”
“The name? Why you always hatin’ on my dope names?”
Kale managed a chuckle. “The dog. You can’t have a dog in a Lycan pack.”
The dog backed away from Kale, ears and tail low, as if it could sense the predator inside.
“Hey now,” Bubba said. “Ya’ll carry your spirit animals inside you. I get to have one now too . . . on the outside of this fine body.” Bubb
a stroked the dog behind the ears and it nuzzled into him. “Besides, I ain’t leaving it out here to get eaten after its owner probably was. Are Lycans heartless now?”
Kale sighed. “Fine, but keep it out of the way and don’t blame me when it freaks out around all the wolves.”
“Sweet.” The dog hovered off Bubba’s lap and up the stairs. “Come on, Oscar, I’ve got some Vienna sausages just for you.”
Kale laughed. “Did you name your wiener dog after a hot dog?”
Bubba shrugged. “What, you gonna hate on that now too?”
Sadie slipped past the Lycan sentries that wove among the pines at the edge of the east Texan estate easily enough, covered by a moonless night, her coat inky black. Not that copulating hard when you’re near invisible and smell as fresh as a summer daisy. She smiled at the thought. She’d been experimenting with natural scents since she left Kale and Shelby’s pack. Sometimes it came in handy to smell like something rather than nothing. She could imitate juniper, pine, cedar, honeysuckle, and fresh cut grass. She was still working on petrichor.
She’d been watching this pack for a week. They weren’t Advent . . . yet. Francis, the Alpha, had been approached by a couple of Mareus’s lackeys, but they had been rebuffed. Who names a boy Francis? Sadie knew she took a risk coming here, but she didn’t want to see a resistant pack die. That’s what was about to happen. It was join-or-die time for them. She’d known that would be the outcome for a couple days but had finally scraped together the courage to do something about it. I hope I’m not too late.
She’d also been experimenting with connecting to pack links in more subtle ways than she had with Athena and Mareus. I was clumsy, inexperienced. She’d been able to reconnect with the Advent pack and with Kale’s undetected. The trick was to piggyback on someone else’s link, so she didn’t appear like a new member.
I spent enough time with Shelby and Athena to tune into their frequencies. She’d been tapping into their pack links a few times a day to check in. It had started as an experiment, but it became a way to keep tabs on both factions in this war. Athena’s link had suddenly shifted two nights earlier, making the link less reliable and fuzzy, but the kill order on this small pack had been clear enough.