Advent: Book 3 of The Summer Omega Series (Summer Omrga)

by JK Cooper

  Three men were pushing a car into the middle of the highway. Frank swerved, clipping the car and sending the men flying. Another car was rolling out as they passed.

  The Hunter grabbed the radio, clicked a button, and yelled into it for the other driver. “Do not stop. I repeat, do not stop.”

  He checked the mirrors, foot hovering over the brake, but relaxed as the other bus made it past the rolling cars.

  Shelby shook as she took her seat again. “What was that?”

  “Ambush most likely. They stop the cars with a roadblock, take gas, take food, and maybe let you live.” He whistled. “Thought it would take longer before stuff like that started happening. Not a good sign.”

  Shelby looked ahead. “We’re going to have to abandon the buses at some point.”

  He nodded and tapped the dash. “We’ll run outta gas in a few more hours. Doubt we’ll find another station with it, unless we’re lucky, or we move farther away from populated areas.”

  Shelby half shifted, keeping her clothes from shredding. She reached out to Kale along the pack link. Another thing that made their lost bond hurt. She never had to shift to speak to him before. You think we should go farther off the highways? It will take longer to get to Salt Lake, but we’re more likely to find gas and supplies.

  He mulled it over. She could feel his uncertainty. She gave him courage and bolstered his ego. We need you to be strong and decisive, love. Sometimes you’ll make the wrong decision. We all do. We’ll still follow you.

  He absorbed her words and emotions. Yes, let’s move away from the cities. I didn’t like that near confrontation. We would have destroyed them, but I don’t really want to attack humans who are just trying to survive if we don’t have to. He then sent something similar through the pack link to everyone.

  Shelby conveyed it to the bus driver and asked him to make the announcement on the speaker system, so the humans, Wiccans, Druids, and PK could be informed.

  That reminds me, she said just to him. There have been whispers of what we will do with the humans we come in contact with. I overheard a few of your pack discussing at the last rest stop whether we turn Clare.

  Kale growled. We aren’t turning humans. We’re not the Advent. We won’t recruit that way.

  What if Clare asks to be turned?

  Silence for a moment. Has she?

  No, but it is a possibility. We may run into those who want this, those who want to stand a chance in this changing world, who want to fight the monsters who took loved ones from them.

  Kale sounded surprised when he replied. I didn’t expect you to be the one arguing for this. I thought you were horrified when Rachel was talking about it, thinking about it.

  Shelby missed the bond. He knew most of this because he had been so connected to her at the time. He was surprised now because that connection was gone. I have to get it back. I can’t keep feeling lost and homeless. To him, she said, I was and still am horrified by not giving people a choice, forcing it on them, or manipulating them into it, but we’re going to need allies and more in our ranks before this is all over. Just keep it in mind.

  I will. I’ve been thinking about it too, and what we do when we encounter other packs. I’m not going to be like Mareus. I don’t want to kill other Alphas to get ahead.

  Oh, love, you are nothing like Mareus. We’ll find better ways. I promise. She sent him warmth and comfort, her equivalent of an Omega hug. She then sent him a kiss, which was hotter and more urgent.

  She could feel his smile as he spoke again. What you did today . . . we may need more of that.

  Anything for my Alpha.

  Grant stepped from the third van he’d seen the inside of in two days, with a helicopter ride between the last. He eyed the gray doors of the warehouse. Not someplace I thought I’d ever come back to . . . willingly anyway.

  Inside he held more than a little trepidation over returning to the North American Hunter HQ. It mingled with concern for his daughter and an odd sensation of missing Bryanne’s company and conversation. Outside he was true to his Hunter call sign: Iron Ice. Can’t let them see I’m worried.

  Instead he stretched and cracked his back. “Too many hours sitting. It’s not the Hunter way.”

  “No, sir,” the gawky teen who had been his latest chauffeur, squeaked out as he slid out of the front seat.

  Is his voice still changing? “How old are you, son?” The patch on his chest said Collins.

  “Seventeen, sir, but I’m top of my class.”

  “I have no doubt.” Hunters begin young, but Grant didn’t expect one to be trusted with his retrieval, not as an enemy or an ally. What’s happening to the Hunters?

  Collins beamed at the praise. “Ninety-seven percent accuracy with my handgun.”

  Grant whistled. “Not bad.” He sniffed and wrinkled his nose. “Huh, Indianapolis still smells like Indianapolis. Exhaust, sewage, hints of hay, and is that kettle corn?”

  “There’s no place like home.”

  Grant chuckled. “That phrase usually refers to Kansas.”

  The boy smirked. “I’m actually a transplant from Topeka, so I’m allowed to use it anywhere. You ready, sir?” He saluted awkwardly and motioned toward the doors of the squat, ugly building that blended into the cityscape, which was exactly what the Hunters wanted it to do.

  “Lead me in,” Grant said.

  The chaos on the other side of the doors stood in stark contrast to the calm exterior of the building. Men and women ran past carrying reports. Someone tripped as Grant went through a full body scanner, scattering papers. The man snatched up only a few and ran down a hallway, leaving a trail. The guards who waited on the far side of the scanners gave him a salute, both teenage girls.

  “Huh, things have changed. Some for the better, but . . .” Grant trailed off.

  “Yeah,” Collins said, wiping his nose, “there have been a few setbacks this week. Changes had to be made.”

  They stepped over the discarded papers to take the painted cinder block hallway to the left that led to the HQ control room. Pipes and bundles of wire ran along the exposed corrugated steel ceiling. Grant glanced down at lists of Lycan sightings, graphs of increased demonic activity, and maps splashed in red. Black streaks crossed out many cities.

  “The Advent is winning.” Grant kicked a paper.

  Collins looked down at the mess, his shoulders slumping. “Yes, sir.” When he looked up again, there were tears forming in the corner of his eyes. “My best friend was killed yesterday in Chicago. Chicago! We thought we had that city locked down.”

  Grant put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “There are no words that can undo what happened to your friend. You have to carry that pain, but you also carry his memory, which is a gift to him for as long as you hold breath. You keep fighting as long as you can, as hard as you can, so that memory never dies. You got that, soldier?”

  Collins sniffed. “That sounds like experience talking, sir. Who did you lose?”

  Grant looked up at the dirty ceiling tiles. “The love of my life and more soldiers than I can list in the time we have.”

  “I’m beginning to know the feeling.” Collins sniffed again but stood taller. “We’re here.”

  “I know.” Grant pulled the door open and stepped into the real madness. Men and women shouting at one another, gesturing at the display that lined one wall. Red wolf skulls floated over most major cities and hundreds of smaller cities and towns. Most of the same cities had been dotted with green castles, the mark of Hunter strongholds. New skulls appeared as he watched. “That many?”

  “Probably more. We don’t have the best intel. Our communication with those in the field is deteriorating.” Collins stepped past Grant and cleared his throat. No one paid him any attention. He tried again. Nothing.

  Grant put two fingers in his mouth and whistled, the sound loud enough to cut through the din of despair in the room. Silence fell as all eyes turned to him. “Who’s in charge here?”

  A young
man rushed forward and hugged Grant. “Thank God you’re here, sir.”

  Grant stiffened, then patted the man on the back. “Not the usual protocol, but times are weird.”

  “Sorry, Iron Ice, sir.” The young man pulled himself away, his patch showing Thompson. “I’m just glad someone with experience showed up when we needed it. The proverbial fan is well-coated, sir.”

  “I can see that.” Grant eyed the display boards again. “What do we know, Thompson?”

  The man gulped, audibly. “We’ve lost every major Hunter stronghold other than the southeastern states, Indianapolis, New York, Boston, Charleston, Salt Lake, and San Antonio.”

  “How did they find them all?” Grant snatched a report from someone, glanced at the contents and passed it back. “Get that in the system now and have the survivors pull back to the secondary Seattle location. We’ll get them out.” Grant gaged Thompson’s reaction to his orders.

  The young man nodded to the soldier with an air of relief. He then answered Grant’s question. “We think someone is talking, someone with a lot more knowledge of our inner workings than most. Do you think Jack . . .” Thompson couldn’t finish the sentence.

  Grant grimaced. “I’d hate to think so, but it’s possible. Torture makes us all weak in the end. Might be my fault he was captured. These deaths are on me.”

  “I spoke with every man who survived that mission.” Thompson rubbed the stubble on his chin and blinked bright blue eyes from inside the dark circles that made him look years older than the mid-twenties he had to be. “Never thought I’d hear so many Hunters defending Lycans and the man who protected his Lycan daughter, but they all said you and your actions saved lives. I’m keen to believe them. There’s also something you need to see.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Proof your daughter may not be the monster we fear.” He called out to one of the men at a table to put up a video from outside Dallas. “Be warned, it’s disturbing.”

  A video clip taken on a cell phone appeared in the middle of the display. It showed a woman walk naked into a spotlight. Alien armor appeared to crawl out of her skin, burning red and cooling to shining onyx, like molten metal being forged in time-lapse. Grant had seen similar armor up close, but this was a darker, more twisted version.

  “Athena,” he almost whispered.

  Thompson breathed heavy next to him. “That’s the name we’ve heard too. It appears the Alpha Prime has a Summer Omega of his own. The prophesies never mentioned more than one.”

  As he spoke, Athena grabbed a woman, dragging her into the circle of light. A double-bladed scythe glowing a faint hue of purple appeared in her hand. It went to the woman’s neck but did not cut. Instead, Athena half shifted, bit the woman’s neck, then dumped the poor creature on the ground. Bullets bounced off her as she advanced, but she stopped short of entering the building. Instead, she threw the scythe at least fifty yards at whoever held the cell phone. The image lurched to the side. Blood splattered the ceiling, the walls, and the lens of the camera. A snarling wolf, as large as Mareus, raced past the still recording phone, wearing the dark armor.

  “Show the other one,” Thompson directed. He glanced at Grant. “This is what ultimately convinced me to let you in.”

  An image of Shelby appeared, standing between two men in some sort of confrontation. One had a weapon. The other was reaching for one.

  Oh, Shelby, what are you doing? Her armor flashed into view and she held up her hands. There was no sound, but it looked like she was pleading with the men. All anger leaked from their faces. The gun fell to the ground, the conflict over.

  Grant let out a pent-up breath. “That’s my girl.”

  “Your daughter compared to that Athena woman? I’ll take the traitor’s spawn any day.” He paused. “Um, that is, that’s what Jack . . . called . . .”

  The room fell silent except for the low hum of monitors all around them. Grant hardened, slowly turning and locking his gaze on Thompson. “I’m going to forget how you just referred to my daughter, but next time, I won’t.”

  Thompson paled. “Apologies, Iron Ice. What do you think we should do now, sir?”

  Grant had expected a question like that. “We get our intel buttoned up and our men and women out of harm’s way. We fall back on every front until we have the concentrated numbers to attack.” Grant stepped toward the table, putting his palms down as he leaned forward. “I’ll do all I can until someone higher up makes it back to relieve me.”

  Thompson made a choking sound behind him. “Sorry. I didn’t tell you, did I?”

  “What?” Grant turned slowly.

  Thompson’s eyes had sunken in further. “We have been gutted from the inside out. Every sector head has been targeted. You are the highest-ranking Hunter in the United States that isn’t dead, missing, or captured. Honestly, I’m not even sure if you still have any rank in our system but . . . well, you have more experience than anyone else here. So . . . I think that makes you in charge, sir.”

  “Well . . . feculence.” Grant thought Sadie would be proud, and overly flirtatious.

  “Not the word I’d have used, but accurate.” Thompson walked around the table, pulled an ancient book off the worn wood, and handed it to Grant.

  Grant took it, feeling the cracked leather in his massive hands. He turned it over, taking in the Hunter’s shield and sword on the cover, parallel lines streaking away from the sword on either side. He’d seen the symbol hundreds of times, but never with these lines. “What’s this?”

  “Jack said it was the final solution, reserved for when everything went to feculence, as you say. It is for your eyes only.” Thompson took a step back with a hint of reverence on his face. “I hope it helps.”

  Bryanne leaned against the side of the bus and stared at the sat-phone in Shelby’s outstretched hand. “Shouldn’t he want to talk to you?”

  “We’ve been talking for a few minutes, but I gave him a full status update this morning.” Shelby ran her other hand over her face, but failed to hide the smile creeping up her lips. “I suspect his insistence on a second report in one day is a thinly veiled excuse to talk to you.”

  “You do know I can hear you?” Grant’s voice came from the phone as Bryanne took it. “This isn’t a walkie-talkie. And these calls are expensive.”

  “Oh, I know,” Shelby acknowledged. “That’s why I cut my time short.” Shelby walked toward the abandoned store they were using as a rest stop for the evening with only one sly glance back.

  “Hi there, Iron Ice, sir. Your friendly neighborhood Druid lady reporting for duty.” Bryanne gritted her teeth after she’d said it. She’d been trying to go for funny and charming, but wasn’t sure if she’d pulled it off. There was also a slight delay with the sat-phone that always made conversations more awkward.

  He sighed. “Grant is fine.” But then he chuckled. “Sounds more helpful and less creepy than some teenager bitten by a radioactive spider any day.”

  “Glad you caught that.” Bryanne relaxed, but still aware of time ticking by. Sat- phones could lose service at anytime. “What do you need, Grant?”

  There came a long pause as the phone warmed against her cheek. Bryanne began to think she’d lost him, but his voice came through just as she was about to hang up and try dialing him back.

  “How much do you know about the Hunters?”

  Bryanne frowned. She’d been hoping to be more helpful. “Not much I’m afraid. We worked with them on occasion, against them other times.” Bryanne bit her lip. “Humans, even humans doing bad things to the paranormal, wasn’t part of my jurisdiction. We mainly mopped up the messes.”

  “I was afraid you’d say that.” His voice grew distant, thin, but it wasn’t a loss of service.

  “Why? What could I tell you that your new…slash old coworkers couldn’t?”

  Grant grunted and something thudded in the background.

  “You okay?” Bryanne felt the magic pouring into her along with the fear that the Hunter
headquarters had just been attacked. What can I do from here? The delay killed her.

  Grant apologized. “Sorry, just a heavy book I inherited meeting my desk. It seems the people who might have had answers are in short supply. I guess I’ll have to read the whole thing. Was hoping you might be my Cliff Notes.”

  “Cheating only hurts yourself, Grant.” Bryanne let the magic flow out of her and back into the ley lines. “Besides, I have my own book headache to deal with.”

  “How is that going?”

  Bryanne took a deep breath. “Slowly. Those Mystics knew how to obfuscate.”

  Grant laughed. “Seems the Hunters liked their style. This book’s written in English at least, but it also isn’t, if you get me.”

  Bryanne nodded and realized that was foolish. “I do. I can reach out to some contacts in the government who might know more, but my connections are pretty thin at the moment.”

  Grant grunted again, and Bryanne thought she could hear pages turning. “No, I don’t want you risking anyone else’s life. I’ll do the reading.”

  Bryanne bit her lip again. “It was nice to hear from you though. Stay safe, Grant.”

  “You too, Bryanne. And try to keep my daughter out of trouble.”

  “Oh, don’t make me promise the impossible.” Bryanne shook her head. “We both know she runs into it whenever it shows up.”

  Theo made it back to his downtown apartment unscathed, dodging several groups patrolling the streets with guns and silver knives. They were calling themselves militias or some nonsense. He’d picked up more of what was happening from the conversational snippets he heard as he passed other spatterings of humans. The Lycans have gone mad.

  He’d almost sprinted the last two blocks. He stood out, walking the streets alone, and he received many distrustful glares for it. Best not to be mistaken for a werewolf, he’d have to pull his glamoured bow on relative innocents, or risk spilling any of his orange blood so soon after banishment. He didn’t want exposing the Fae added to his list of crimes.