INCURSION: Faeblade (Knight's Bane Trilogy Book 2)

by Bryan Donihue

  Boomer looked at Dancer. The vulnerable young woman was staring at the ground as she walked. The explosives expert remembered the first time she pulled the trigger in combat. She remembered the scene at the slaughter in Colorado. She remembered that the only thing that stopped her from losing her lunch was the desperate need to kill the monsters. How could she convey all this to the girl who, until a few short months ago, was at a summer camp in the Rockies?

  As she was thinking about this, her eyes were roaming all over the surrounding area. Flipping in and out of her vampiric vision was starting to give her a headache. That, combined with her worry for Hannah caused her to miss the faint metallic glint about a hundred yards to her right. The muted click of a well-oiled bolt locking into position was missed among the noise of the interstate about two hundred yards away.

  Boomer finally turned to Dancer and opened her mouth to speak, "Hannah, you are right where you need to be. You are talented. You may be a bit squeamish now, but you haven't truly been in the middle of combat yet. What you are feeling is normal. You just feel overwhelmed and unsure of yourself."

  Off to her left, the vampire demolitions expert heard a muted thump, and felt a sharp sting on her left shoulder. She said, "Oww...." and then collapsed in a heap.

  Her exclamation and the sound of her mentor's body hitting the ground was enough to get Dancer's attention. She whirled, looking around, and noticing Boomer lying crumpled in a heap. The young woman felt something slap her shoulder, registered a sharp prick of pain, and the world went black even as she was reaching for her shoulder.

  IT WAS eight o'clock in the morning when Doc walked out of her room in the suite she was sharing with Boomer and Dancer. Dressed and ready for the meeting with the Queen of the Seelie, the priest wondered where the other women were. She hoped that they had not been out all night, the youngest team member would need her sleep for the next couple days.

  Doc saw that Boomer's door was closed, and she knocked. "Boomer? Dancer? You guys up yet?"

  Not getting any answer, Doc knocked again, then opened the door and looked around the room. Both beds were still tightly tucked in from the room service cleaning before their arrival. The bed on the left had Boomer's duffel and kit still lying on the foot of it, unopened. On the right, Dancer's smaller kit bag was lying open on the bed where the teenager had dumped it and dug for makeup earlier. Neither bed had been slept in.

  Doc pulled out her SSP and called the team leader. Ghost answered gruffly. His voice betrayed his lack of morning coffee and patience, "Yeah, Doc. What do you need?"

  "Is Boomer with you? Or Dancer?" The team's medic asked. "Neither one is in their room, and it looks like their beds have not been slept in. I wouldn't normally worry about Boomer—she doesn't need much sleep. But Dancer is human and should have slept at least some."

  Ghost was fully awake now. "No. Neither are with me. Ask Spooky, see if he knows where they are. I'll gather the rest and meet you at the Wunder Buggy in a couple minutes."

  Doc briskly walked out of the hotel and headed to the team's transportation. Banging on the outer door, she yelled for the electronics officer to unlock the vehicle. The young man inside eventually opened the door.

  "Have you seen Boomer or Dancer since last night?" The priest could see that she had awakened the young electronics specialist from his sleep, and he appeared to be having trouble concentrating. "Do you know where they are?"

  Spooky had been driven out of some particularly vivid dreams by the loud pounding on the truck's door. He could barely hear a muffled voice, but it sounded angry, and it wanted into the truck. It had taken him a few more seconds to realize that Doc was waking him. He had stumbled to the door and unlocked it. As he opened the door, he belatedly realized that he had forgotten to make sure he was wearing pants. A quick glance downward confirmed that he at least was dressed in front of the priest. He finally was able to register what the priest was saying.

  No, he hadn't seen the two women all night long. The last he had seen, they were walking away from the main road late last night. What did she mean that they were gone? How could they be gone?

  Spooky grabbed his phone and dialed Boomer's SSP. It rang several times, then went to voicemail. He hung up and tried Dancer's. Same results. He tried each number one more time. Tossing his phone down in annoyance, the former NSA analyst realized that he had realtime access to location data for the phones. The young computer tech's fingers flew on the keyboard in front of him.

  As Ghost and the rest of the team arrived at the truck, Spooky was grinning madly. He looked up as the tall federal monster climbed up into the truck, "I got locations boss. Looks like about half a mile from here."

  Ghost leaned out and told everyone to board the truck. The team leader climbed into the driver's seat and fired up the big engine. Shifting the transmission into first gear, he yelled back over his shoulder, "Where to, Spooky?" Spooky gave him directions.

  Less than half a mile later, the heavily modified surveillance truck braked to a halt in a rising cloud of dust. The team piled out of the still settling Wunder Buggy, fanning out in ever-widening directions. Spooky yelled from the interior, "About forty feet to the west."

  Do-Right found the first SSP. Battered and scuffed, the screen had a small crack on one corner. He thumbed the button and recognized Boomer's wallpaper. "I've got Boomer's SSP," the young former deputy announced.

  Moments later, Scout found the other missing SSP. It, too, was scuffed, and the screen was shattered. Looking around the area, the Navajo archer searched for signs that he could track. A careful examination found plenty of evidence for his experienced eyes. He began to point them out to Ghost.

  "If you look here, there are tire tracks, including four deeper depressions where the vehicle sat for an extended period of time." The young tracker pointed to the depressions in the soft earth. "Here there are two sets of drag marks. It looks like two people were dragged. The drag marks end at the tire tracks, so they were likely loaded into the waiting vehicle."

  The young Native American looked around some more, "I'm not seeing any type of blood, or ichor, trail. There are plenty of boot and shoe prints. It looks like the vehicle left in a pretty big hurry." The tire tracks ended at the paved road. "My guess is they realized that the phones could be tracked, so they dumped them."

  Ghost thought for a moment, "The fact that they left the SIM cards tells me that we were meant to find the phones. This seems more like the fake human attack on the club. It would not be hard to cover their tracks—it's like they meant for us to find them. This is beginning to smell like a nighttime Unseelie raid."

  "Why?" Doc's tone was genuinely curious.

  "We were getting ready to present our findings to the Queen. This was an attempt to shut us up or distract us. They even tried to pin the blame on humans again." The monster hunter's eyes grew cold, "We need to settle this." His voice rose to be heard, "Everyone mount up! We're headed to the MCC."

  Doc spoke up, "Speaking of the Queen, you need to call her Knight, let him know what is happening. We will soon be late for our audience."

  As the others clambered aboard the truck, Ghost pulled out his SSP. He dialed a number from memory. "Tó Coferal. This is Special Agent Vanhof. I apologize for breaking protocol, but we are in the middle of a crisis." He listened for a moment, "Thank you for your understanding. We just found out that two of my team have been abducted. Evidence from the scene points to machinations by the Unseelie Court. We hope that Her Majesty will understand and forgive our absence. I will contact you when we have resolved the issue. I do not expect the matter to last more than a few hours."

  Ghost listened impatiently as Doc drove the massive truck back to the airport. The guard almost did not get the gate open in time, and the priest thought she felt a scrape on the exterior of the van from the still opening bar as they flashed underneath the steel gate.

  Ghost said, "Thank you, Sir Knight. You are a credit to your Queen. I will update you as I find out."
The lanky fed hung up with one deft finger while he hung onto the seat and window frame to keep from being bounced around the cab.

  The truck rocked on its heavy-duty springs when Doc brought it to a halt outside the large cargo plane. The team exploded out of the truck, all of them heading toward the opening plane door. Ghost was the last to exit, his SSP in his hand already dialing Agent Smith.

  Gretchen came barreling out of the air force jet, sidearm held at low ready. Ghost held up his hand, "We have two missing team members," Ghost barked. "The goddamn Unseelie Court kidnapped Boomer and Dancer."

  Gretchen stopped, holstered her firearm, and motioned for the team to join her in the plane. She shrugged, as if it really was a common occurrence. "Well, if that's the problem, then let's find the ladies and kill whichever fae decided this was a good idea."

  16

  HUNGER

  IN THE VOID

  "Wake up, young one." The deep rumbling voice was familiar, but Dancer couldn't quite place it. "It's time you woke up, here, so you can wake up out there."

  Wake up here? The young woman opened her eyes and saw horizontal blades of grass. Why is the world sideways? Then she felt the soft loam under her head, and realization struck her. She was sideways. Slowly sitting up, the world righted itself, and she realized she was again in a field, and this place was familiar. Vellath?

  She looked up as the great bronze dragon walked into her view. The creature's head snaked into view at the end of its long serpentine neck. The creature seemed to smile and its voice rumbled a bass vibrato, "Of course, young one. Who else would bring you here? But you must wake up now little one. You are in grave danger if you do not wake up. No time for questions. Just concentrate on waking up."

  She thought a quick, Thanks, as the world faded to black again.

  DANCER FELT PAIN. The world was no longer the pure black of unconsciousness. It was becoming red with pain. Her right shoulder felt like it was on fire, like it needed to be itched. She tried to scratch it, but she could not move her hands or arms. The young woman opened her eyes. As she blinked away the mental cobwebs, she took stock of her own body.

  The young federal agent was sitting upright in a chair. It seemed to be an older wooden chair, and it was uncomfortable. She could not feel any padding under her or on her back. Dancer could feel something wrapped tightly around her torso, pinning her arms to her sides and tying her to the straight back of the chair. Her hands were similarly lashed to the arms of the chair at the wrist. Trying to flex her legs, she realized that her ankles were tied to the chair legs as well pinning her in place.

  Her back was uncomfortable as she felt the sharp edges of fion-fhuil's scabbard digging into her spine. Something about that bothered her. Then she realized that they had not seen or felt the weapon, so they had not removed it. She still possessed Vellath. That's probably why Vellath was able to contact her. Hope flared within her as she realized she could use this to her advantage.

  The room around her was dimly lit with a bare bulb hanging from the ceiling. The walls and ceiling were bare concrete with years of dirt, grime, and neglect staining them a mottled black and brown. To her left there was a large doorway. The door itself was standing open and looked to be several inches thick and made of steel. She could only turn her head so far, and the solid back of her chair rose well above her head. She could see nothing past the chair on either side. The lack of light told her that if there were any windows in the room, they were boarded up or otherwise covered.

  Dancer heard a low moan of someone in pain behind her. She looked around in a futile attempt to see beyond the edges of her chair. The young woman steadied her voice and called out, "Who's there?"

  The groan sounded again, and a familiar woman's voice answered her, "Hannah? Is that you?"

  "Rebekah! I'm here. What happened? Do you remember anything?"

  "I don't know." The newest agent could hear the confusion in her mentor's voice. Boomer continued, "The last thing I remember was feeling something hit me in the shoulder. They must have tranquilized you, too."

  "But who? Unseelie? This seems like an awful lot of trouble to kidnap us."

  Boomer thought for a moment, "Not likely. My guess would be those creeps at Zero Tolerance. The boss said they had a mole at headquarters."

  Slow clapping sounded from the doorway. Dancer turned her head and saw a human being standing in the doorway of the holding cell. The large man was young, he had a boyish face and tousled brown hair. His mustache and short beard did nothing to hide the wide grin.

  "Congratulations, you found me out." The man's booming voice echoed around the room and sent off crescendos of pain through Dancer's skull. "Let me introduce myself. I am Nate Miller. And yes, my group of monster hunters has decided to hunt monsters. You guys. Oh, I realize that you are federal agents, but at least one of you is a vampire. And if the other is human? It doesn't matter. You are still a traitor to the human race." He rubbed his hands together as if anticipating a fine meal. "So the question is, which of you is the monster? And which of you is the traitor?"

  Dancer refused to speak. She simply glared at the man. He shrugged, "Your glares do not affect me—I'm a married man. Well, lets see what your identifications tell us."

  Miller opened a battered leather credentials holder. Comparing the picture inside with the women in front of him, he walked over to stand in front of Boomer. "Special Agent Rebekah Callahan. Are you the infected one? Not answering?" A loud smack echoed off the walls, and Dancer heard her mentor grunt. "Fine. Let's see about your beautiful young partner."

  Miller walked around and stood in front of Dancer. He opened a set of credentials that looked much newer and read, "Special Agent Hannah Sedano of the Department of Homeland Security. You look really young for this. Did they spring you from daycare? Or maybe you were infected young?" The young federal agent continued to glare at her captor. "I bet you are the vampire. You're too young to be a real agent. No answer? How about now?"

  She saw the strike coming, but there was nothing she could do about it. She tried to roll with the blow, but her limited mobility stopped her from getting out of the way. Miller reared back and closed his fist. He launched a powerful haymaker at the seated girl. Dancer's face exploded with pain. She felt the crunch of broken nasal bones, and here eyes blurred with instant tears. She could feel what must be blood streaming down her face and her vision went a hazy red. The redness quickly faded to black as she gave up on remaining conscious.

  Boomer heard the terrific thump of the haymaker and the shriek from her protégé. She cursed loudly, calling Miller every name she could think of, and questioning the ancestry of the man and his entire family. Her time in the military served her well as Miller's eyebrows raised slightly when he heard some of the combinations.

  He casually walked over to her and looked at her. She was writhing and testing her bonds. The head of Zero Tolerance sounded as if he was discussing a pleasant evening. "I would guess from her fainting and your reaction that you are the vampire, and she is the traitor. Oh, don't worry. You will both end up dead. But I have a really fun game that I want to play."

  He watched her face as she grew quiet. It was the quiet before a violent storm. "You see, I've been told that if you get really hungry, you tend to lose control over your appetite. I hear that's a pretty gruesome sight. I've also been told that the more damage you soak up, the sooner you have to feed. I do believe that this will be a fun experiment. Well, fun for us, anyway."

  Boomer clenched her teeth. She was struggling to control her inner demon, and the strain showed. "You will pay for this," she hissed. "My team will find us. And I will make it my personal mission to kill you. Slowly. Painfully. Your last view of this world will be my face devouring your still-beating heart. I guarantee it."

  Miller winced, "Nice visuals, but your mouth should not be writing checks your body can't cash." The man's eyes grew cold as ice. "You will never leave this room alive. Once I turn you into the beast that you hide, I wil
l leave your precious teammate in here for you to feed on. When you are done, I will put you down myself."

  He suddenly stood. "Unfortunately, I need to leave you right now. I have dinner plans with my wife, and I'm suddenly in the mood for steak. But don't worry, I'm going to leave you in very capable hands."

  He shouted, "Boys!" Two very large men entered the room, one carrying a duffel, and the other a small table. "I'd introduce you, but it won't matter anyways. I'll leave you in their capable hands." To the newcomers, he said, "Have fun boys. Do not kill her, and for heaven's sake, don't let either one of them get up." Miller walked out of the room, humming a popular tune.

  Boomer looked up at the two men. One was blond and one had black hair. Both were well over six feet tall and looked like offensive linesman from an NFL team. She also noticed the butcher's aprons and leather gloves that covered their ham-sized fists. The men looked at each other and grinned.

  Boomer almost did not see the fist that jabbed out from the torturer on the left. Her head snapped back, and she felt the bones in her nose break. Pain exploded between her eyes and she could not hold back the cry of agony. The bruiser chuckled as his partner hit her with another jab, and this time she felt her cheekbone snap. It hurt to cry out, and it hurt to hold her mouth closed. Boomer watched as the giant that hit her last held up a pair of brass knuckles and grinned.

  She spat at them and hissed, "You've just sealed your fate, assholes. I'm going to rip your throats out."

  They both laughed and wandered around, in and out of her vision. The blond bruiser stopped outside her view. His voice was deep and gravelly, "Wow. Look at that one. She's a hottie for sure. Are you certain we can't have a little fun with this one at least?"

  His partner laughed. "Maybe." He pointed at Boomer. "We'll see what happens to this one first." He twirled the brass knuckles around his index finger, catching it deftly.