“I do sir. I understand the risks. But . . . think of the benefits? I will be your man on the inside. I will be able to determine what their goals are. Whether they truly are on our side.”
He paused a moment to let the director digest what he had said before laying the next part on him.
“Even better, if they are what we think they are, they will be able to make me into one of them. Then I will be able to make others into the same thing. Think of the military applications, sir. We will have a nearly indestructible and devastating fighting force.”
Jessie had been to war. So had the director. They both understood what this could mean. The lives saved. The wars won.
“It is an interesting proposal.”
“Sir, just say the word and I will make the approach.” He dreaded asking this next part, but it was crucial to his success, not only his, but if he read the situation right, crucial to all their successes. “Sir, I will need a list of possible recruits.”
“Recruits?” The word dragged itself unhurriedly out of the director’s mouth as if hesitant to get an answer to the question.
“Yes, sir. I believe they will be looking for people to join them. They have set themselves against this other party and if I understand the lay of things, the other side will be recruiting heavily — through any means necessary.”
He let the last part sink in for a moment.
“It would be to our benefit if we offered a means for them to combat the other group’s numbers as part of why they should accept me as one of them. Also, if the threat is as bad as I believe it is, we will need the numbers as well.”
Silence hang between them. Which didn’t surprise Jessie. He had given a lot for the man to chew on.
“You will have your answer in the morning, Brumfield,” the director said decisively.
“Thank you, sir.”
The director had given him the okay and a list of names of retired and semi-retired military personnel his staff had compiled for him to approach about joining the group. After meeting with Kat and the others he had begun reaching out to those names on the list.
The director had given him clearance to ‘read’ them into the situation, along with security video of everything they had collected so far regarding these, ‘Were-creatures’.
Jessie excelled at selling. He knew how to sell a mission, and he sold this mission like his life depended on it. Which it most likely did. Throwing out phrases like national security, doing your duty for God and country, a sworn oath to protect from both foreign and domestic. It didn’t take him long to convince the majority of those on the list to join in the fight.
When the group returned from burying Hank’s boy, he had over thirty recruits who would be joining them within a day.
“That is excellent news, Jessie,” the girl Sylvanis told him. Jessie had difficulty thinking of this slim woman as anything more than just a girl, though he had seen her wield powerful magic.
“The moment they arrive, we will need to have them choose whom they would like to give them lycanthropy.”
She glanced at one of the newcomers, a small chestnut-haired cutie name Stephanie.
“I understand if you do not want to participate in this, Stephanie.”
Stephanie made a face, “I’m sorry. I can’t.”
Sylvanis nodded as if expecting the answer and turned to the two men who were also new arrivals. “Jason? Mike?”
The one called Jason glanced at Stephanie before answering. “I will do it.”
The other one, Mike, nodded as well.
Sylvanis proffered them a smile. “Very well.” She returned her gaze back to him. “Jessie. I will leave you in charge of your recruits and their choices but allow me to explain a few things that you will need to convey to them before they make their decision.” She paused.
Jessie nodded for her to continue.
“First and foremost, reiterate the risk involved in the process. Do not downplay the very real chance that they could die. We have already had one loss due to this.” She frowned and glanced momentarily at Stephanie who stared at her feet. It wasn’t hard for Jessie to detect the quiet sniff as she stifled a cry.
“Second,” Sylvanis continued, “affinity for their totem animal will greatly increase their survival rate.”
“Their totem animal,” Sylvanis searched for a word. “I believe some call it, their spirit animal. It is essentially the animal that one feels represents their personality more.”
“Right. Okay.” The dismissiveness was evident in his voice.
Sylvanis clicked her tongue at him. “Jessie. Whether you believe in it or not is inconsequential. You must relay this to your recruits if you wish more of them to survive.”
She stared at him and he stared back.
Sylvanis cocked her head at him and frowned.
“Explain it like this. Tell them the animals they must choose from. The first animal they hear which interests them should be close enough. Their subconscious will have made the choice for them.”
Once again, she glanced toward Stephanie, Jason and Mike.
She began to tell him something but changed her mind with a slight shake of her head. Instead, she turned to face all of them.
“We must do this as quickly as possible. Events are moving forward quickly. Whatever Kestrel is up to, it appears to be happening in Texas. The attacks on the refineries and the logging company set a clear line to Houston.”
She turned as she spoke, taking everyone in turn. “That she is recruiting is obvious. According to the news, the attacks left hundreds wounded.” She paused. “Hundreds,” she reiterated. “Even at a fifty percent survival rate, we will be greatly outnumbered, though I suspect we will be looking at closer to a seventy-five percent or more survival rate.”
“Shit,” the man named Clint muttered, and frankly Jessie agreed. Shit is right. Here he thought bringing in thirty men a great achievement. It wouldn’t matter.
Sylvanis looked at Clint and at the others. But not Jessie. “Yes, the numbers are not in our favor, but in the end, it really isn’t about the numbers. You know this.”
The group made slow nods to her. Jessie had been left out of something important here, he realized. But he was a soldier, and what the fuck else was new.
Hank shifted his bulk slightly and Sylvanis turned to him with an arched eyebrow.
“She won’t wait long. Her man, Samuel, the one who has been around . . . since . . . before. He will have instructed her on what will be coming her way as soon as she is acknowledged as a legitimate threat. And after the other night and what happened in Texas, I can’t imagine it will be much longer.”
Sylvanis gave a nod.
“I agree. The government will make a move soon.”
They had. Jessie already knew. They had and it had been a colossal fuck up. Despite everything he had told them, they had still gone in like they were going to fight normal bad guys. They had all been slaughtered.
“When they do, they will get a taste of what is to come. Between that time and when they decide to truly take things seriously, that is when Kestrel will strike. Change the focus from her and it will instead move to containment.”
Jessie stared hard at this young girl. Her understanding of tactics and how the government worked, surprised him. There was something eerie about this Sylvanis which frightened Jessie.
“That will be our moment to strike at her and we need to be ready.”
Kat spoke up. “I think I speak for everyone here when I say we are more than ready.” Everyone either muttered their agreement or nodded.
Jessie studied her. She had so effectively overpowered him, though he topped her by a head and at least a hundred pounds. It had been at that moment he had fallen for her. There were strong female marines, but they couldn’t hold a candle to Kat.
The nature of her strength, which came from her lycanthropy, allowed her to be unnaturally strong, but not have the bulk of muscles she would otherwise need. Which left her body t
rim, muscular yes, but more, defined, than large.
In other words, she had great strength, but still had a smoking hot feminine body, and it turned Jessie on immensely. Coupled with the fact she acted like she couldn’t give two shits about him was like dangling a carrot in front of a rabbit.
She caught his eyes roving over her and hers narrowed. He smiled. His smiles always worked. She rolled her eyes and turned away. Well. They usually worked anyway.
“That is all for now,” Sylvanis said after a moment. “Stay close, lie low and keep your eyes and ears open.”
She stared out the window of the hotel room. “Something is coming.” She turned back to them. “We need to be ready.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Gordon and Blain climbed the stairs of the hospital looking for Kestrel. The last of the force which had attacked them had been eliminated, except for the mysterious Were who had fought and killed Samuel and fought Blain before fleeing.
Samuel was dead. It shocked Gordon. He hadn’t cared much for the man, but he had been formidable. Bloody oath, the man had been over two thousand years old!
They reached the top of the stairs and Sarah, Blain’s little plaything, the one who wanted to carve him up into little pieces if she had the chance, came out of the room in which Kestrel had taken up residence.
Blain stalked toward her and she froze upon seeing him.
“Where’s Kestrel?” he demanded.
She glared at him. But she constantly glared at him.
“She is unavailable,” she told him satisfactorily.
He growled at her.
To Gordon’s surprise, she growled back.
“Get out of my way, woman.”
Sarah held her ground, but Blain must have asserted his will upon her for she stepped aside.
“You can’t go in there, Blain.”
“The fuck I can’t.”
Gordon kept hot on his heels.
They didn’t make it to the door before it opened, and Kestrel stepped out, absently unwrapping a bandage she had wrapped around her forearm.
He and Blain came to an abrupt halt.
Kestrel looked at them hard. She looked . . . haggard, her sweat-soaked hair clung to her forehead and face as if she had run ten miles. Kestrel’s eyes went from Blain, to him and back again.
Tossing the bandage to the ground, she straightened, and she wiped the hair from her forehead.
“What has happened?”
Blain growled. “What’s happened? I’ll tell you what’s happened. Your man is dead! Dead! And, we were attacked by an unfamiliar Were, who unfortunately, got away.”
Kestrel seemed confused. “Dead? Who’s dead?”
Gordon stepped forward bowing his head slightly in deference. Something Blain never did.
“Samuel, My Lady, killed by the Were that Blain just mentioned.”
For the first time, Gordon saw Kestrel unnerved. She staggered slightly and reached out to steady herself with the wall.
“Impossible.”
Blain sneered at her. “Well seeing how his lifeless body is lying in its own piss and shit downstairs . . .”
Kestrel had heard enough. With a shout and a gesture, wind stronger than any spawned from a tornado or a hurricane, slammed into Blain, lifting him up and throwing him down the hallway. With another word of power, flames roared to life within the gale, incinerating Blain’s body.
His screams shifted to roars as he changed to his Boar form, his body healing as it burned. As the fires snuffed out and the wind died, Blain rose from the ground; pink skin burned by the fire, peeked through his bristling boar hair.
On unsteady legs, Blain began to stalk his way back toward her. Gordon looked to her and she regarded him. He knew what he had to do.
Shifting, he moved in front of Kestrel, blocking Blain’s path.
“Get out of my way, Motherfucker!”
“Blain! Leave it! No one will win from this. We need to stay focused.”
Blain didn’t appear to be hearing him as he moved closer, glaring at Kestrel behind Gordon.
“Come on, Blain. This is stupid. You were being an insensitive wanker.”
He kept coming and Gordon readied himself for the fight.
Blain pulled up short and took his eyes off Kestrel to look at him.
He snorted. “I was, wasn’t I?”
“A bit.”
Blain shifted back to a human and turned back toward Kestrel.
“My apologies, My Lady. And, my condolences.”
His apology caught Kestrel off guard. It sure as hell caught Gordon off guard. He certainly wasn’t expecting an apology for shitty behavior from Blain of all people.
Kestrel didn’t immediately respond. After a moment she responded, “Apology accepted.”
Gordon felt Kestrel’s hand lay to rest upon his back, and he shifted back to his human form.
Sarah, who had been almost completely forgotten, stood open-mouthed and wide-eyed to the side. Whether from the battle which had almost taken place here in the hallway, or the sudden apology from Blain, Gordon couldn’t be certain.
“You may go, Sarah. Please see to the others, the time of rejection for many will be soon.”
Sarah glanced at Blain, who nodded that she was still under the command to do what Kestrel asked of her. With one last glance at Kestrel, Sarah departed.
Kestrel watched Sarah go, before turning her attention back to the two of them.
“Follow me.” She turned and made her way back to her room.
The moment they entered the room she wheeled on them.
“Tell me everything. Now.”
Fury burned so brightly in her eyes, Gordon faltered a step, but Blain had no such fear.
“As you had predicted, we were attacked. The battle went pretty much how we believed it would. They were unprepared for what they were facing and Gordon, Taylor, Samuel and I had no difficulty dispatching them.”
Gordon could see the muscles in Kestrel’s jaw clench and release in impatience. Blain knew what she wanted to know but took his time getting there. The bastard always liked to bait her.
“And?”
Blain offered a slight smile, reveling in his efforts to piss her off succeeding. “Oh, yeah. Then when we had the battle well enough in hand, I went to join with the others to clean up the rest. When I went to find Samuel, I found he had been killed by some sort of cat Were I have never seen before.”
“It wasn’t the Tiger?”
Blain gave her a look which clearly read, ‘If it had been the Tiger, I wouldn’t have called it a Were I hadn’t seen before,’ but didn’t respond.
Kestrel’s eyes narrowed on him, but she turned to Gordon.
“What did you see?”
Gordon hadn’t seen anything. “I was busy fighting the last of the men. The Were fled before I could see it.”
“Samuel is dead?”
“Yes, My Lady.” Gordon rushed out before Blain could rile her up again with some pissy comment.
“Take me to him.”
They led her back down the stairs and into the hallway where Samuel lay. Neither one of them had moved him. They passed Taylor on the way, parked in the lobby and keeping an eye out for any further attacks.
Samuel lay prone upon the floor. His face was frozen in death and held a look of sadness, an expression which seemed foreign to the man. Kestrel squatted beside him. With one hand she reached out and brushed his cheek, closed his eyes. She stood.
“Gordon? Please turn him over.”
He moved over Samuel’s body and reached down. With a slight shift of weight, he rolled the man over. A sick squelching noise assailed their ears as his body pulled free from the drying blood pooled beneath him.
With his body turned over, the wound which had sliced into his chest and from the look of it, cut through his heart, became visible. Gordon, no expert, believed the wound looked like a stab wound from a blade of some sort, not from a claw.
“He was stabbed,” Kest
rel said to no one in particular.
Again, she squatted down beside him and rested her palms on his chest. Gordon watched as she closed her eyes. Her breathing came in long, deep breaths. She stayed like that for some time.
Blain fidgeted with impatience and Gordon hoped whatever she was doing would conclude soon, otherwise Blain would likely say something offensive.
At last, Kestrel’s eyes opened, and she took a shuddering breath.
“I’ve never come across anything like the weapon used to kill Samuel. But it is a weapon of great power.”
She stood looking again at Blain.
“This Were, did he hold any type of blade?”
Blain shook his head. “Not that I saw. I arrived after he had killed Samuel. So, perhaps he had discarded it or secreted it away before I got there.”
Kestrel frowned but said nothing. Gordon didn’t think Blain’s explanation made sense either. If the Were had a weapon which could kill other Weres, he would have used it against Blain, not hid it.
“This changes nothing,” Kestrel said flatly. Gordon knew her better. Kestrel held no one as closely to her as Samuel had been. Whether through mutual like or shared experience, Gordon didn’t know. But Kestrel reeled from this loss, though she hid it well.
This changes everything, Gordon thought, but he didn’t voice it.
“Over three quarters of those from E.A.R.t.H have come through the rejection process already and we have only lost three. We will find out if the rest survive by the end of today or early tomorrow.”
She looked at the them.
“Call the others.”
Elias sat with a dozen others from the office, though they weren’t in the office anymore. They hadn’t been for several days now. After the horrific attack on Yulchik refinery by that . . . that . . . monster, they had initially been raced to the hospital. Though many of them had suffered only minor wounds, they had all suffered some wound.
That had been the deal. Let him wound you and they wouldn’t tear you to pieces. Elias had seen him rip to shreds several people, so given the option, Elias had taken the wounding.
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