by John Conroe
“It was the first case of multiple possession that I’ve ever heard of. And there was a dimensional portal to Hell that allowed Demons in physical form to cross over to our world.”
“Bad?”
“Big Bad. Like a breach of the Accord between Heaven and Hell. It almost killed me. 'Sos, Stacia, and the Pack Second protected me while I closed it down.”
“So it’s not a problem anymore?”
“This one isn’t. But the rip was caused by a witch’s spell, and the grimoire that holds that spell is still around.”
“Can’t you destroy it?”
“It resists casual destruction. I need a trustworthy witch or a handy ocean, neither of which is close by.”
“A book like that has value. Considerable value. You have it with you?” she asked.
I knew that Tanya trusted her, but I’ve never warmed up to Katrina. A century of embittered exile from society of any kind wasn’t a good recipe for mental stability in my book.
“No. It’s hidden away.”
“Good. I would suggest that there is no such thing as a trustworthy witch when it comes to a book that powerful.”
I nodded slowly. “That’s my thought as well.”
“Well, Chris. I better get back to work, but I’ll be around, keeping an eye on things. I’m making wicked tips!” she said with a smirk.
I grabbed the rest of the scallops off her tray, wrapping them in a cocktail napkin. She arched one eyebrow, then nodded behind me. “Gonna share those with him?”
The crowd behind us was parting to let Awasos through. He is literally smarter than most humans, but he can’t speak words. Nonetheless, I’ve learned to read his body language to the point where he can convey complex ideas. He was very pleased with himself. The crowd around us watched and listened closely as he came up to me.
“Did you pee on his car?” I asked. “No? So what did you do?”
His eyes gleamed with self-satisfaction as a hunch occurred to me.
“You didn’t?” I asked, impressed at the idea. “You did!”
‘What? What did he do, Chris?” Ned asked. The whole group hung on my next words.
“I think he answered an age-old question, Ned. It turns out that bears don’t, in fact, shit in the woods—they shit on Sam Cooper’s car!”
Chapter 17
It took a little over four minutes before someone at our end of the table asked about the portal. The seating order had been set up earlier and we were down on the very end, farthest from the Grangers and Vranas. That was fine with me, but from the glances we were getting from that end of the table, I could tell some people were frustrated with our placement.
Stacia was across from me, 'Sos on the floor beside the table, gnawing on a beef haunch that Ned had requested special for him. On my right sat Coreena, the firefighter, and across from her was a very nervous vampire named John. About eighty years old in vampire years, John was thin and bookish looking and apparently knew exactly who I was. He sat frozen in place much of the time, which is typical for a disturbed vampire. Coreena, on the other hand, had been friendly to both Stacia and I, and it was she who asked the first question.
“So there was really a gateway to Hell upstairs?” she asked as Katrina set an appetizer in front of me. John warily watched the older female vampire, who looked like a college freshman. Katrina had apparently taken over waiting our end of the table.
“Ah yes,” I said to Coreena before turning to Katrina. “What’s this?”
“Grilled ostrich with sautéed mushrooms,” she said with a wink.
“And you closed it? The gate or door or whatever?” Coreena pressed. The rest of the table on our end had stopped talking and was listening in.
“Yeah, we did,” I said with a nod to both Awasos and Stacia.
Rose’s nephew, Malcolm, was seated next to Coreena, and across from him was John’s date, a twenty-something-looking girl who had only been a vampire for about ten years, I guessed. Her name was Deena and she was much less nervous about me than her date, but she kept quiet and shot curious glances at John.
Malcolm couldn’t contain his curiosity any longer. “Did you find the book?”
Stacia glared at him, but he either missed it or ignored it. “You’d probably want to talk to Jep about that,” I said, trying to convey that it wasn’t a good topic. “But you should have seen some of the monsters that came through, right, Stacia?” I said.
She caught on fast. “Yeah, that tentacle thing will give me nightmares for years.”
Malcolm didn’t look like he was ready to give up on the book, but Coreena leaned forward, blocking him from my view.
“Tentacle thing? I thought demons would be red tails and pitchforks?” she asked, looking between Stacia and me. Even John looked interested, relaxing enough to sip his goblet of O negative.
“Well, apparently no one told the demons that because they came in all kinds of shapes and forms,” Stacia said, leaning forward herself. Malcolm’s face blanked as the angle on Stacia's low-cut cocktail dress shifted downward, which appeared to cause a corresponding drop in his I.Q.
“There were things with claws and pinchers, poisoned tails, things that were shaped like a person but moved on all fours, all kinds of twisted shit,” she said with a shudder that was obviously real.
The lady to Malcolm’s right wormed into the conversation, looking at me as she asked, “And you killed them all?”
“Actually, Stacia and Jep and 'Sos killed them. I was pretty busy trying to close the damn hole!”
“You did kill that scorpion thing,” Stacia pointed out.
“Nope, I just wounded it. 'Sos stepped on it after I knocked it down. It kind of splattered.”
“He doesn’t look that heavy?” Deena asked.
“Did you miss him in bear form earlier?” I asked her back. She looked confused. “His other form is a really big grizzly. About twelve hundred pounds or so.”
“Oh,” she said with big eyes.
Katrina pulled our empty appetizer plates and handed them off to another waiter. She replaced them with bowls of what smelled like seafood chowder.
“So, John, does Asheville have a large contingent of Darkken?” I asked.
He froze in place for a split second then answered stiffly, “Not large.”
“And you’re the Master for the region?”
His head shook slightly from side to side. “We’re a subgroup of Charlotte. I answer to the Master there.”
“Oh, I never made it down here during my short stint as a Rover,” I said without really thinking.
“You were a Rover? But you’re not a vampire?” Deena asked. John instantly placed his hand over hers in a vampire fast move before turning to me.
“Please don’t take offense, Chosen. She meant no harm,” he said.
“How could I be offended? She’s right. I wouldn’t expect her to know.”
“But the Coven expects her to know, so we have some things to go over later, Deena,” he said, patting her hand but not looking away from me.
“Rover? Chosen? What’s all this?” Coreena asked, looking between Stacia and me.
Stacia had a closed-off expression and said nothing, leaving it to me.
“Christian Gordon is the Chosen of Tatiana Demidova and holds high rank in the Coven,” Katrina supplied from behind John and Deena, where she was refilling their glasses with dark red blood.
“The Chosen of the Young Queen?” Deena exclaimed, staring at me. I shot a small glare at Katrina, but she just smirked it away.
A commotion from the front of the house interrupted the questions. Loud voices and complaints carried over the table chatter and the disturbance seemed to be getting closer.
The table quieted and a moment later, Simon Masten came into the room dragging a young girl. His packmate, Bo Morrison, came behind him, holding a young man in a choke hold.
I recognized the girl as Jetta, which made it a pretty safe bet that the young man was her brother, Mack.
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“Masten, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” Granger said, jumping to his feet. Simon looked at him, wild-eyed and trembling with barely controlled violence.
“I found them! The ones that have been killing my Pack!” he said. He was wearing jeans, work boots, and a black tee shirt.
“Jetta? Jetta from my restaurant has been killing your Pack? Are you insane?”
“No, the FBI figured out it was her. Ask him!” Simon said, jabbing a finger at me before using that hand to grab Jetta’s red hair to help control her.
All eyes turned my way. “Chris, what’s he talking about?”
“Agent Krupp and her team think that Jetta and her brother Mack are their prime suspects. They’re looking for the two of them right now.”
“And you brought them here, Simon? For what purpose?” Granger asked.
“Justice, Ned. Justice! This bitch and her brother killed off most of my Pack, hunting them down like dogs.”
“Excuse me, but am I to understand that a pair of teenage children have successfully hunted and killed more than a half-dozen adult male werewolves?” Vrana asked suddenly.
“You must be Vrana! Sorry to meet you like this, sir, but this is one smart little viper. Daddy always told me to watch the redheads.” He lifted the girl, who had been sitting on the floor, both hands clutched to his where they were locked in her hair. I noticed for the first time that she was wearing form-fitting exercise clothes: a red sleeveless stretch shirt and black yoga pants. Standing upright, her athletic female form was much more apparent than when I had seen her dressed in a baggy, ill-fitting waitress uniform.
“She lured my guys in, ya see, one at a time, dressed like this! Then, while they were distracted by her slutty charms, she’d shot them with that gun!” he said, pointing at Bo, who was easily holding Mack with one arm and a strange looking firearm with the other. The gun was just over a foot in length, cut down from a single shot rifle and with a slender oil filter mounted on the muzzle
“Clever. She exploited your men’s’ complete lack of self-control and put them down like rabid animals. Perhaps for the best,” Vrana said before turning to Granger. “Is this what I can expect my children to learn?”
“No, Kral. You can expect your children to learn what doesn’t work from an example like Simon,” Granger said before turning back to Simon. “What are you doing, Simon? Why did you bring them here? The FBI is tracking them, and you dragged them here?”
“I brought them here to show you and your highbrow friends how a real Alpha handles an attack on his Pack,” Masten said, lifting one arm and shifting it into a clawed beast paw.
There was no in-between moment; I was just instantly there, holding his pawed arm. The wind from my movement blew Stacia’s hair straight back and pulled petals from the centerpiece flowers on the table. The decision to act wasn’t detailed or planned out. I just wasn’t going to watch any more young people die in my presence without an objection—a strong objection.
Simon, frozen to my perceptions as I moved across the room, resumed normal movement, jumping at my sudden presence. “Wha…? Get the hell off me!” he yelled, jumping back and shaking his arm, trying to free it from my grip. He also released Jetta when he jumped, which gave me an opportunity to move my body between them.
Awasos was there next, moving and herding the girl back toward her brother and the young were who held him. Lava red eyes fixed like lasers on Bo, who took the hint and released his hostage.
Masten had a moment to recover his bluster, and he started forward to reclaim his victim. A palm strike to his chest knocked him back to the wall seventeen feet away. This time, he was growling as he stood back up, pulling his shirt off.
“Gordon, what are you doing?” Granger asked
“Objecting—interrupting—preventing a murder? Take your pick. All I know is he isn’t killing this girl and her brother.”
“They murdered my Pack!” Simon growled, unbuttoning his jeans.
“You butchered our parents!” Jetta screamed back at him. “Tied them to a tree and ripped them apart like dogs!”
“Masten, that true?” Granger asked.
“They were prey, Granger, ours for the taking.”
“We don’t hunt regular humans, Masten. It’s our law.”
“Laws! We don’t live by laws, Granger! We’re top of the food chain! Nothing hunts us!” he screamed, dropping his pants and falling to the floor. Jep stood up, along with several Pack members, but most of the guests just turned their chairs to watch. John and Deena had left their seats and were now standing behind Coreena, watching us.
Bo looked uncertain, but after seeing his Alpha begin to Change, he started to pull off his own clothes.
Granger ignored the Changing were, instead turning to Jetta and Mack, where they crouched behind the protective bulk of Awasos. “Is what you say true? His Pack killed your parents?”
Mack spoke up this time, his voice much deeper than his lean build would suggest. “My folks had a small getaway cabin in the mountains just behind our ranch. They would go there to catch a weekend alone from time to time, as running a horse ranch is a full-time deal. They never came home, so we went looking for them. Found the cabin broken into and torn apart. They were about a hundred yards away, tied together to a tree. Huge canine tracks all around them. The police were baffled, but my uncle knew what was responsible. He knew about your people—knew that there was a local Pack. My uncle hunted those hills his whole life, served in the army, and he’s the one who taught us to track and kill the predators that threatened our horses. He helped us kill the first two werewolves, built that gun, and loaded the ammo for us. He died of a heart attack after the second, but by then we knew how to do it. We’re not afraid to die, Mr. Granger. This… person killed our family, and family is everything!”
“Stand down, Masten! There will be no killing here!” Ned said, turning back to the newly formed wolf. But Masten was too enraged to listen. He stood, shaky from the Change, then shook himself and charged.
Grim wanted to chop him into chunks, but I controlled him. He was, after all, only one wolf and not even that impressive.
Masten leaped directly at me, jaws open wide. Once he was in the air and committed, I slid left and back fisted the side of his head, striking just behind the eye. The blow broke a bone or two and caused his stretched-out body to yaw slightly. That brought his hind feet closer to my left hand, which latched onto his ankle. Turning first with the direction of his leap, before continuing on in a circle, I redirected his momentum.
Have I mentioned that Posting is my favorite vampire technique? Locking my body in place with a shaft of quantum power. I also like Clinging, which is basically the same thing, but on a smaller scale. But Posting is so damn useful in a fight. It gives me the counterbalance to fully employ my strength, making it easy to do things like spin in place while holding a three-hundred-pound werewolf by the ankles.
Masten’s jaws missed the kids, but his heavy skull made nice contact with Bo’s body as the young were was unbuttoning his jeans. The kid went flying, but I kept hold of Masten’s ankles and looped his body up and around another half circle before slamming him down hard on the flagstone floor. It was like the part in gymnastics when the girls twirl the ribbon sticks, except with fur.
Bo started to get up, but two of Ned’s men were suddenly on either side of him, holding him in place. One of them picked up the suppressed rifle.
Masten lay on the stone floor, stunned enough that he involuntarily Shifted back to human form. Jep stepped over to him and pulled him upright by the neck, hauling him out of the room, followed closely by his men and Bo.
“Thank you for not killing him,” Ned said to me.
I shrugged. “I’ll let you folks deal with him. I just wasn’t going to let him kill any kids.”
“How did you know Mr. Gordon was capable of handling one of our kind?” Vrana asked Ned.
“Lots of ways: Jep’s evaluation, a warning from the Mall
eks, things like that. But the best clue I had was last night when I first laid eyes on him. Chris, Stacia, and Awasos were meeting us at our club. I was curious as to who would come in first. It would make sense to send the liaison in first, or, if you were worried, then you might send your giant wolf first, but it was Chris who came in. In Nam, we always put our most dangerous guy on point. He entered the bar like it was hostile terrain and he was ready for anything. The other big clue was a few moments later when he threw Jep across the room like a basketball. To tell you the truth, I was kinda curious about how it would go.”
Another security guy came into the room and spoke in Granger’s ear. “Send them in, Larry,” Ned responded out loud before looking at me. “Are you psychic, Chris? The FBI is here.”