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The dog-ones were just short of yipping. Actually it was a dog-boy and a dog-girl. But they were on-edge and at the ready, anxious for more after chasing down the one Dustin had known as Misty. Dustin couldn’t blame them for their impatience. He wanted to let loose with a howl too after making the capture. It was too bad Misty wasn’t able to respond. She was aware of her circumstances but couldn’t communicate. She was frozen inside and unable to leave. With marksman accuracy, Misty had been hit three times but all that was needed was once because these were special bullets, projectiles hurling through the air at the crack of a gun and when they hit they injected their body-freezing venom. Those injected didn’t actually freeze; their bodies slowed to a stop and became hard like a statue on the outside. On the inside they were like Styrofoam; nice and dry and immobile- unable to run, unable to hide: no escape.
Who was to know that one of the targets they had been closing in on, the very target he had specifically been involved with, would accidentally happen on to them as they were setting up their stake out. The other target had been Enos Lancaster whom they’d been keeping tabs on for years. Enos had a tracking device which made it easy to know his whereabouts. He was, in fact, the reason for this mission. It was believed that through Enos they would find Dr. Cinnamon Starr. But they had instead found Misty Skye, and hadn’t the dog-ones loved that. Misty led them on a merry chase though, clever as he’d found her to be. Even when she was wounded, hit three times and the venom pumping into her, Misty’s effort to escape brought her to the shore and into the water which blemished the capture. Like a fly in the ointment, a nose smudge on a window pane or a spanner in the works, Misty had tainted a perfect hunt by reaching the damned water. But they had her, imprisoned by the confines of the body she inhabited. She was wrapped, bagged and ready for delivery to the cremation ovens. Oh, what a wonderful hunt! What a challenging chase! They would sit before those ovens and celebrate the end of another adversary.
They had hoped to follow her to a larger group but hadn’t decided what to do if and when she did. Take them out one at a time and savor the hunt and the burning? Annihilate them as a group to eliminate the possibility of escape, or even worse, disappearing. Tail every contact Misty made to see if they in turn led to others necessary to hunt down? Dustin had spent many months flirting, getting to know Misty and recording information she’d shared. That time and investment became even more excruciating because he had to feign affection and pretend to care about her at all. She was so lonely though, and through the exuberance of their budding relationship, though she was careful, she slowly revealed enough guarded information to all but confirm she was a Haven. It wasn’t a perfect fit but what was? Dustin, or the one driving Dustin, knew that for centuries his kind had been able to act with impunity. Thus they had waged war, slowly eliminating an enemy that couldn’t even see them coming.
But now, Dustin and his group came upon the housing commons which, according to information wrestled from Misty, is where her family lived. Family indeed, she spoke as if she really was a human. He’d give her that but, no matter. Dead was dead whether one was Human or Haven. For ages, Lorn had existed and even thrived from one island to the next, across the deep black sea of the sky. They infiltrated where they wanted, whom they wanted and drove them towards their own purposes. No one knew of their existence…no one for eons, until a homo sapiens race called Yoomans landed on an island in that great black sea. There they encountered a water based life form every bit the counterpart to the Lorn, only of course they were lesser beings. Nothing was equal to being a Lorn. Nothing!
Haven discovered Lorn and Lorn discovered Haven, but Havens confided in some of these Yoomans and the secret was out, but only to a handful of people. There was still time to eradicate all who knew that Lorn existed. It was great fortune that the discovery was made on a ship the Lorn were in control of at the time. This minimized the secret getting out and that fortune continued through that faltering ship coming to rest upon this island earth. Though Yoomans and Havens were also among the survivors of the Gemini’s crash, they too were unable to leave the shores and spread the word about Lorn existence. Since those rag-tag beginnings the surviving Lorn pursued the agenda Lorn had always pushed, conquer, control, exploitation, secrecy and the safeguarding of their existence. Until the skies began to be explored through rockets and satellites, that containment had been methodical. But since the 1950’s efforts had picked up. It was realized that missions sent beyond earth’s gravitational reach could possibly have messages that, however unlikely, could reveal the Lorn and their agenda. They placed themselves in powerful and influential positions on governments and in the space exploration areas, stepping up with renewed vigor, the cleansing of all from earth who knew of their existence.
This history pumped through the veins of the scouting mission that had failed to arrive undetected, but had the fortune of taking a captive. Misty Skye was in their possession and that made the mission a success, even though they blundered and stuttered at the beginning of the launch. She would be tortured for information and then tortured for fun. What a wonderful night this was going to be.
The housing commons appeared to be dark, not even a security light or ground lights to spotlight the manicured vegetation. It was past twilight now and the evening was young, but certainly there would be lamps on by this time. Either others were hiding in all those houses or they were empty. But the readings for Enos Lancaster said he was in the immediate vicinity. Research showed that the property was recently purchased but that it had been vacant almost as long through its history as it had been occupied, and its occupants through the years were a mixture of the good, the bad, and the ugly. The possibility existed that Misty only knew of this community and used its existence as a fictitious residence, telling him when they were flirting and growing closer, that she lived here when in truth she lived somewhere else. Through the years the remnants of the Havens had become clever in their existence, hiding in the grass like so many weeds.
“Children, come to me.” Dustin called out in a horse whisper.
Though he was young-looking himself, the human canines were referred to as children not because they were his but because their dispositions, as with dogs, were child-like. They came to him now as he crouched behind the vegetation shielding him from the shorter-grassed, more open spaces of the commons.
“The yard has many houses.” Dustin said.
They craned their necks and peered over the stems and leaves.
“I want you to go investigate every house. Don’t go inside. Use your noses and….” He pointed his finger at them. …no whining or barking, understood?”
The dog-ones rose to go.
“Wait. Wait, wait…wait, I didn’t tell you to go so why are you going?”
The dog-ones hung their heads in shame but this was an act. Their minds were already on the prowl, already going house to house to check out what the various scents could tell them.
“Now, you did very well back there on the bluff, tracking her down.” All three regarded Misty’s statue-ed body lying with the other equipment they were carrying. “I’ll remind you that while the hunt is fun, Havens are dangerous when cornered. It’s not like it was when they had no idea they were being hunted. Just go out there and find out what you can, no whining, and no yelps. Just sniff ‘em out and come back here to let us know if anyone is home. Now go!”
It really wasn’t fair to wind them up with anticipation and then launch them off without expecting some kind of excited expression. This was only low growls of frustration to go and hunt and find and tear. Hopefully the last part was at least as much under control as the yelping. Off they went in full stride like missiles seeking their targets.
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The lights were all turned off now at the great, house and those who had darkened the structure were gathered at the foyer before the front door. Enos was stationed there and Sanford was in a small room underneath the stair to the next f
loor. The door was open and the glow of monitors and technical equipment slightly lit the hallway. Enos stayed by the front door watching the outside through small windows outlining the entry. Cinnamon and Constance drew near the dim luminosity of Sanford’s security station. He was sitting back in a chair viewing the camera monitors and pointed to one of them.
“There they are; a party of ten. Ten they sent to us, why? And what are these two doing?” He leaned closer to the screen. “Something strange about these two…the way they move.”
He studied them further. “Well, they’re on the lawn now. Get ready Enos. They’ll be comin’ on your right.”
Cinnamon and Constance exchanged concerned looks and couldn’t help but draw nearer to the front door, however anxiously. Enos stood back from the window so that he wasn’t exposed, and tilted his line of sight for the soonest possible observation. Even though it was evening, inside the house was darker than the outside which made it slightly easier for those peering into the night, but it made it no easier for eyes to behold what they saw. Two shadows in the darkness moved in a manner that both drew and repelled. They abruptly held still as deer are known to do when revealed in headlights or as dogs that pick up a curious sound, then moved again investigating trees, sides of houses and raising their heads to look around.
For those inside there was a loud rap against one of the small windows framing the door, followed by glass spraying the immediate vicinity. Several loud cracks echoed afterward and holes in the dark door appeared as dim stars in the night. There were in-drawn breaths and gasps of surprise but nothing audible outside the room. Enos came away from the door and did not return the fire because it would confirm there was indeed someone inside and he didn’t know where those shots were fired from anyway. He didn’t know their body heat signatures were all visible to the shooter.
“…everyone okay” Enos asked.
Everyone was.
The dark forms approached the house, coming right to the door. Their bodies made the holes in the door wink when they blocked the dim light from outside. Inside, everyone stayed still and held their breaths. Enos readied for the door to burst inward, wishing he could be calling headquarters for more support. More sharp knocks against the door and more faint stars against the dark backdrop, then a collision with it, which nearly startled Enos into squeezing off a shot, but then following the crash. It sounded as if someone or something slid down to the porch floor. The night trespassers went no further but rather dismounted the porch and retraced the route they had come from, running off with a limp and a scamper and disappearing in the murky woods.
5
John caught up with them after following the tale of their trail. He was behind them but their attention was on the great house and where they were going. Even the dog-things didn’t pick up on John’s presence, so eager to seek and find out on the commons. Still John was respectful of what he didn’t understand, but eyed his daughter’s motionless body as it lay beyond among the equipment. With some of the team setting up further along the bluff and others studying the houses or the dog-things as they ran into the yard, this left the leader as the nearest to Misty and to him as well. John grasped the opportunity and took six or seven steps before he was next to the man who appeared younger than he expected but John knew better. The man was so confident in their position and their purpose that he never even looked up to see which one of his team was near him. He too was watching the progress of the dog-ones. John stepped on Dustin’s hand which held a pistol, pressing it painfully to the fallen log he was peering over. His reaction was a squawk of protest and to release his grip. This was an anticipated move by John and he grabbed the gun quickly, and played on the surprise by acting immediately. Gun now in hand, John brought it to bear on Dustin’s face who regarded who he thought was one of his team. But when the dawn of recognition came to him, John plunged the pistol into Dustin’s mouth, tilted the barrel toward the brain and pulled the trigger.
John watched Dustin’s head kick backward and re-center again. “Let’s make sure shall we?” John pulled the trigger for a second time. He had after all, spent a good length of time aboard the body of a vampire. Vampires knew something about killing.
There was no explosive bang, just a low percussive whisper; “put…put…” as the gun’s muzzle suppressor did its job. Turning to face what aggression came to him from the rest of the team. He was surprised to find that everyone was oblivious to what had just played out, and each continued with what they were doing, none the wiser. John bent to his daughter and saw she was stiff as if rigor mortis had set in. He would carry her back to the beach, but now another risky opportunity lay before him. This invasion had come with harmful purpose and with a gun in his hand, he could do them damage and probably save some lives down at the house by doing so. If he did this however, he would almost certainly ruin his chances of slipping away back along the bluff with his daughter. Time was ticking.
John returned to Dustin, and searched his pockets, coming up with three clips of what appeared to be ammunition for the gun. He turned again to those making preparations and fired at the moving shadows and areas near him where slight noises gave away locations until the gun fired no more. He pocketed his pistol, bent and lifted his daughter and left as silently as he could, retracing his steps and wondering how far he would get carrying her on the treacherous terrain, before they recovered from his visit and noticed Misty’s body was no longer there.
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Morgan was excited. This “raid” as she called it, was a field test for her. She had logged many hours researching, listening, investigating and working her way up the ladder of trust in this top secret government organization, referred to as The Authority. Even when she asked what that name meant, she was told that one day when she was trusted enough she would be given that information. The Authority was well funded as so many government organizations are and of course, they were hush-hush secret. To Morgan that meant she couldn’t tell anyone where she worked or what she did. Her best friend didn’t know. Her family back in Oklahoma didn’t know. Even her heart’s desire lover didn’t know where she was employed and how she earned the great money that she did. The rigorous physical and technical training and the personality screening and evaluation were exciting from the get-go, because it was secretive. She had learned life changing skills and it was far better than being unemployed and a deadbeat no-account. When Morgan heard she was selected for this stakeout mission, it meant a lot to her. She was personally challenged not to shout out loud and throw a fist-pump in the air, but as usual, since she took this job, she celebrated alone.
The Authority had been in operation for many decades, she was told. Other recruits reported hearing rumors they’d been around since the colonies, with secret missions big and small. It appeared as though this agency had a squeaky-clean reputation, and whoever their government overseers were, they funded The Authority well. In this assignment, an insurgent they had tabbed and tracked for twelve years as a person of interest, with the hope he would lead to others in collusion with him, had managed to live an apparent “normal” life. But eventually his actions came under notice. He was a state trooper who made contact with another conspirator, secretly lodged in the FBI. It was disturbing that law enforcement agencies had been infiltrated. Commissioner Connelly was infuriated yet excited at these discoveries and he stepped up agency involvement. After nothing on the radar screen for a long while, suddenly they had two blips. Connelly felt that following these could lead the Authority to what might be the last stronghold of this illegal alien menace. Morgan wasn’t certain what exactly this menace had done or planned to do. That was on a need to know basis and one day she would advance to become one of those in the know. For right now though, it was seek and find, chase and capture…search and destroy. She liked that just fine. She was good at it.
Morgan was in the midst of hastily setting up a remote control camera when someone drooped over her as she knelt. She was already on edge due to the m
ission and because she had been unnerved by the introduction of two dog-ones joining their group. She had heard of them but had never seen one of them until tonight. She had been alone in the equipment room when they were brought in, and both began sniffing her which started out awkward and became increasingly embarrassing. They had large dog-eyes and when they were excited by something new their hind ends shimmered, only needing a tail. The female was friendlier than the male who, after sniffing Morgan out, held to a corner producing a low rumbling growl if she did anything too surprising as she readied for the operation.
Morgan stood up to dispatch the weight pressed upon her from above. Sliding off and falling to the ground like a piece of lumber, was Baines, her mission partner, but even in full darkness she could tell something was wrong. He didn’t break his fall but clunked to the ground like a frozen statue.
“What…? Baines, what’s wrong?” She reached to touch him. Clothes were clothes but his skin was hard like a mannequin. “Dustin, we have a problem here.” Morgan whisper-shouted, “He’s dead. Baines is dead. Oh God. They’re firing. They must be firing.”
No response came from Dustin or anyone else for that matter, but gun fire arose from across the commons and howling followed. Well, there went “flying beneath the radar.” Curious regarding the silence from her compatriots while still reeling from what had happened with Baines, Morgan forced herself forward to check on the rest of the team. Stepping around brush that had separated herself from sight from the commons, she found Lita frozen in the act of raising her hand towards her face where her eye had been shot out. She still stood having leaned against a tree in her brief agony. Beyond her were the other three from her team; one watching the houses, attention drawn by the barks, the other two were keeping low but continuing to put together some equipment.
The Blood In Between (The Safe Haven Trilogy Book 3) Page 3