Keeping her eyes locked on the creature's black orbs, she slowly, carefully drew her Walther from the holster riding mid thigh. Once clear of its holster, she stuck the muzzle of the pistol into the creature's gut and pulled the trigger twice. The creature's body muffled the reports, but the pain on its face told the story. Suddenly, the creature fell to the side, clutching the wounds in its stomach.
Dancer scrambled to her feet and kept the pistol pointed at the creature who was writhing in pain. She quickly glanced around her, and the rest of the patrons were frozen at the sudden reversal. She walked over to the creature and leaned over, "Thank you for the lesson. The next time, I won't be so nice." The youngest fed pulled back and kicked the creature in the head, knocking it unconscious.
As she calmly walked over to Ghost, she re-holstered her pistol and reached for the slung MP5 on her shoulder. Once she had a grip, she took a stance behind the DHS leader, overlooking the rest of the club. Ghost looked at her, then at the rest of the club. He raised his voice, "Now that the introductions are over, let's have a chat."
Two hours later, the team was finished interrogating everyone in the club, except for the unconscious goblin that had attacked Dancer. While everyone knew of, or knew their target, none of those present knew where the Oude Rode Ogen was hiding out. The team left the nightclub, piling into the government SUV to travel to the Unseelie safe house.
When they pulled up to the Unseelie safe house, it looked like another abandoned building in a neglected part of town. Once a wholesale auto parts store, the neglect and wear was evident. The only clue to its current occupation was the heavy steel door replacing the original retail glass. The few windows scattered on the facade were boarded up or covered with brick.
Ghost pulled the sleek black SUV into the small parking lot and parked beside a rusting panel van. As they climbed out, each member of the team was alert, looking around the neighborhood for those who might be watching. Once they retrieved their long guns from the truck, Ghost led the team to the front door. He sent Little G around to the back to watch the rear of the building. The sniper walked back and found a spot that gave him some cover and allowed him to watch the back door and side of the building.
Ghost again held up his credentials to the camouflaged camera and pounded on the heavy front door. This time, the speaker announced, "What do you want?"
"Federal Agents and Signatories of the Accords. We're here on Seanachaidh business. Open up or we will open it for you."
The door buzzed, and Ghost pulled it open. He walked in, followed by Heavy, Dancer, and Doc. They walked into what would have originally been a reception area of the business. It was now a lounge and had various couches and chairs placed around the room. The furniture was well worn and trended toward large and of the "overstuffed" variety. Lamps were placed around the room, and a large flat screen TV was mounted to the wall and playing a daytime soap opera. As they looked around waiting for someone to greet them, Ghost got nervous.
Doc's vestments began to glow the warning blue of an imminent evil attack and suddenly all the lights cut out. For two long seconds, there was absolutely no sounds or movement. Then the room was filled with growls and snarls of large, angry animals. Heavy and Dancer clicked the activation button on their weapon lights and scanned around the room. Two large trolls with brutal looking war axes in their hands stood in the opening that led to the rest of the building. Several more trolls stood behind the front two, and every one was armed. Ghost keyed his radio, "Ghost to Little G, it's an ambush."
The first troll charged and Heavy pulled the trigger. The burst of three 12GA rounds ripped into the chest cavity of the big creature, and the roar of the shotgun was deafening to those in the room. The troll stumbled, but still continued to raise its axe. Heavy shifted his aim and ripped another short burst into the creature's face. Its head disappeared in a spray of gore and ichor, and the lifeless body tumbled forward.
The troll on the right snarled and charged at the young agent holding the other light. Dancer raised her MP5 and pulled the trigger, aiming for the big creature's massive head. The first couple rounds glanced off the thick skull, but several entered through the massive eye sockets, burrowing back and scrambling the troll's brain. The creature toppled, it's axe falling from its lifeless fingers.
Doc took a small step back and chanted in Latin, praying a protective blessing on her team. Her hands glowed blue as the power began to build within her. Ghost took a step forward to protect his priest, and drew his ancestral sword. The blade glowed a bright white and it seemed eager to taste troll flesh.
A simple step forward and he plunged the blade deep into the chest of a troll coming through the opening. It stopped and screamed, its flesh burning and melting around the enchanted blade. The short sword it was carrying dropped from nerveless fingers, and the troll began to fall backwards. It managed to free itself from the blade, and then collapsed as its life ebbed away.
Heavy's shotgun ran silent as he emptied the magazine, three more trolls falling to the barrage of cold iron shot. He looked at the entryway and saw at least ten more trolls, plus a few goblins pouring up from what must be the basement. He grabbed one of the smaller box magazines and shouted, "Grenade." He slammed the magazine into the receiver, and dropped the bolt, loading the first of eight mini-grenades.
Switching the selector to single shot, he stroked the trigger at the group around the door. Two of the trolls exploded, and a third was thrown across the room, missing at least two of its limbs. He shifted aim and pulled the trigger again, this time knocking down two more trolls, and killing a troll and several goblins outright. He worked the process, aiming and firing, killing at least a few and mangling everyone and everything coming up from the basement.
Next to him, Dancer crouched and aimed her submachine gun at those who were merely wounded or knocked down by the grenades. Every downed monster got at least one burst to its head, sometimes two if their skull was particularly dense. She calmly switched magazines when hers ran dry, and was switching to her third new magazine when Heavy's shotgun ran dry. Two more bursts finished off the last two felled trolls, and the silence was deafening.
The smell of gunpowder and explosives lingered heavily in the air, and the team waited to see if any more creatures were coming up from the basement. Ghost keyed his radio, "Ghost to Little G. Clear in here. Status?"
"Two hostiles out here. Both neutralized. You were awful loud in there, I would expect local law enforcement soon." Little G's voice was as calm.
"Copy on the hostiles and locals. Contact Gretchen to roll local DHS support. You deal with the locals until they get here. Keep your eyes sharp. We're going to clear this building."
"Copy. I will contact Gretchen and keep the locals busy. Little G out."
Ghost re-focused on the building around him. "Dancer, cover the basement door. Heavy, spread out and verify we are alone up here. Doc, check for any computers or files." His team spread out to their tasks. Dancer covered the stairwell that led down into darkness. Ghost produced a flashlight and he and Heavy walked around the building, checking in corners and checking to make sure that any of the creature's that had attacked them were deceased. Doc produced a flashlight, and walked around the building as well, checking for computers or files they could take back to the MCC.
As they were searching, Ghost's radio crackled. "Little G to Ghost. The locals are here and not so patient. Regional SAC is en route, and Gretchen said to tell you to be careful."
"Copy. We're getting ready to check out the lower chamber. We may lose radio contact. If you don't hear from us in thirty minutes, recall Bravo and send in the cavalry."
Little G responded with a simple "Copy."
Ghost and Heavy finished checking the bodies and met up with Dancer by the stairwell. Ghost shouted down into the darkness, "Federal Agents and Accord Signatories. If you are down there, now is your one chance to surrender."
After waiting for thirty seconds, he nodded for Heavy to lead. th
e big man walked carefully down the stairs, his light shining the way. The stairs emptied into a large living room, with more of the battered, overstuffed furniture scattered throughout the room. Several open doorways and arches led from this main area.
Signaling to the left, Heavy led the team to the first door. Once Dancer was covering the door, Heavy slipped inside and looked around the room. This was obviously a sleeping quarters for one or more of the goblins. The bunk beds against the wall were too small for large trolls and the clothing that was scattered around was obviously for the smaller creatures.
A thorough look around told the big fed that there were no creatures hiding in the room. Heavy walked about and said, "Goblin bunk room. All clear."
They cleared the next several rooms the same way, Dancer covering and Heavy clearing each room. They found three more goblin bunk rooms and a large barracks-style room with beds sized for trolls. All of this looked like a simple hostel-like lodging for the transient fae creatures.
They also found a large kitchen at one end of the underground complex. There was a large pot of stew with very questionable meat in it, and a torso of some animal that Ghost refused to think about sitting in the refrigerator. One large dorm-style bathroom facility rounded out the complex in the basement. The team found no other creatures hiding down in the basement.
Ghost looked at his watch and realized that they had been working for about twenty-five minutes, and he motioned for Heavy and the others to wrap it up and meet him upstairs. As he walked up the stairs, Ghost called on his radio, "Ghost to Little G. We're about done in here. No other hostiles. How are things out there?"
"DHS is on scene and dealing with the locals. Gretchen is calling in a cleanup crew for us. What's your status?"
"We're clear here. Let the locals and DHS know we're coming out the door."
As he opened the door, Ghost's SSP buzzed. Looking at the screen, Ghost realized that Spooky was calling. He answered the phone, "What's up, John?"
27
HUNTING
AMAN PARK, GRAND RAPIDS, MICHIGAN
Boomer pulled the Wunder Buggy to a halt outside the main building at Indian Trails Camp. She climbed out of the driver's seat and went inside the office. She showed the on-site personnel her credentials and verified that there were no campers using the site that week. The vampire then ordered all the staff to remain in the main building until the park was cleared. As she walked out, the administrator was recalling the maintenance personnel back to the building.
Boomer watched a drone launch from the roof of the truck as she walked back to climb into the truck. She then pulled the truck a little further back into the camp area to set up Spooky's base camp.
She and Scout grabbed their gear, checked their radios, and looked at Spooky. The former NSA analyst was looking hard at real-time satellite imagery of the camp and comparing it to imagery coming in from his drone. He pointed to a spot in the park about half-a-mile back into the woods.
"There. There's a spot about four hundred yards across that the video goes all wonky. It starts half-a-mile back into the park, looks like bearing three-four-eight from here. I've got no video return signal from the satellite, and the drone starts to lose control if it gets too close."
He switched to another view, the commercially available view from an online mapping site, "There appears to be a stream in this area, maybe a hill. But there is nothing in that area that could interfere with a Keyhole satellite. I can only get within about five hundred yards of that spot with the drone. Something doesn't want to be seen. Seems like your first target area."
Boomer and Scout both nodded. Scout jumped lightly to the ground first, his moccasins making very little noise, even on the gravel of the parking lot. Bow in hand and arrow nocked, he took his bearing, and started for the edge of the trees. He barely heard a scratch of gravel behind him, and he realized that Boomer had also exited out of the truck. He paused and turned to look. He was surprised when he realized that she was a mere five feet behind him. Even the best hunters will make noise on a gravel parking lot while wearing combat boots. That she was silent spoke more of her vampiric powers than her spec ops training.
He also paused and realized that she was bare-handed. He glanced down at her hands and back up to her face, silently asking his question. She grinned and shrugged. Whatever. He shook his head and turned, leading the way into the woods.
They had walked about a quarter of a mile into the woods and the trees were getting older, and more densely packed together. Scout was very careful to make sure his footing was solid, and that he was making as little sound as necessary. He was also watching his bow and bow-string, making sure he did not snag it on an errant branch. He was nearly silent in the walking, slowly moving forward one step at a time. Twice he was able to get within mere feet of a deer or rabbit before it even knew he was there.
As quiet as he was, the vampire behind him was silent. He could not even hear her breath from a couple feet away. They were fortunate as the cool breeze blew toward them. It meant that they were already upwind of anything in their path. He could see a little daylight through the trees ahead and knew it must thin right about where they were going to be searching. He slowed to an imperceptible walk, and he felt Boomer do the same.
His earpiece crackled as Spooky came over the radio, "Two hundred yards straight ahead of you." Scout clicked his radio once in reply.
They reached the edge of the grove and looked out across a meadow in the middle of this forest. A lone oak tree stood in the middle of this meadow, and most of the branches were bare. He looked across the expanse of long grass and saw a large black man standing and talking into the tree.
Watching for a moment, he realized that the man was not talking to the tree, but to a large black crow sitting on the branch at eye level. They were too far away for him to hear the details of the conversation, but he could hear two distinct voices, a male and a female.
Boomer put a cautionary hand on his shoulder and leaned in to whisper, "Who is 'the Morrigan?' That's how he keeps addressing the big black bird."
Scout shook his head and whispered, "I don't know. Another fae? Either way, it doesn't matter."
Boomer continued, "She keeps saying that there will be death this afternoon, and he needs to pledge to her if he wants to be the one living at the end. He keeps asking about specifics and she's not answering."
"If she wants death nearby, let's oblige the big black bird." Scout stood still, feeling the minute shifts in the wind. He figured that their target was only about a hundred and fifty yards away. This was a shot he could make every day. He centered himself and slowly raised the bow. He pulled the string back to his jaw, his form perfect for the Navajo bow. The bow made the slightest sound as it stretched during the draw.
The crow turned its head and stared right at the Olympic archer. He saw the move and wondered what it meant. No time for worry. He concentrated on the big man's chest, then elevated his bow a few degrees. He relaxed his fingers and the string "twanged" out loud, loosing the arrow at his target.
Faster than his eye could follow, the crow shifted to human form, a beautiful woman with long, curly red hair. Her feathers and bird's body changed in the air as she jumped down. Suddenly, she looked as if she had stepped straight from an equestrian event. The athletic woman wore green leather vest over a white peasant blouse. Tan breeches tucked into brown leather riding boots rounded out her appearance.
One moment she was a raven on a low branch. The very next this ginger-haired woman was standing next to the Oude Rode Ogen clutching the Navajo arrow Scout had launched to kill the creature. Her eyes flashed with an inner fire.
Almost faster than even Boomer could follow, the archer drew and loosed two of his arrows. The runes on the side of the bow glowed a slight red each time an arrow was loosed. The strange fae near their target caught the first arrow that Scout aimed at her in her empty hand. The second magically enhanced arrow got through her defenses.
The arr
ow slammed into the woman's shoulder, the fletchings quivering. Everything stopped in that moment. The Oude Rode Ogen and the woman both looked at the shaft sticking out of her shoulder. Blood began to seep out of the wound to stain the shoulder of her blouse and vest.
She let out a howl of rage mixed with pain. The woman reached up and grabbed the shaft of the arrow. She heaved and pulled the arrow out, blood spraying as the barbed head was pulled free. The fae woman looked at the arrow in her hand and then up at Scout. She snarled and crushed the arrow, breaking it in half. The pieces dropped to the ground, and the woman voice went cold with rage, "You dare attack the Morrígan? Your death will be at my hands." Scout reached for another arrow.
She looked at Oude Rode Ogen, who was standing, frozen in place. "I told you I saw death in this place. It will not be yours, today. Flee." Old Red Eyes turned and sprinted away from the Morrígan. Three steps into his run, he shifted into a huge black wolf and quickly disappeared into the woods.
The Morrígan turned and stalked toward Scout and Boomer. A feral grin crossed her lips and her hair blew in the wind behind her. Scout drew and loosed arrow after arrow, and each one she knocked aside, the enchanted projectiles breaking in two. Relentlessly she closed the distance. When she was within forty feet of the DHS agents, Boomer stepped in front of Scout and stood, barring the woman's path.
The Morrígan did not break stride, "Little half-dead creature. Do you think you can stop the Phantom Queen?" Contempt dripped from her words.
"Bring it, bitch."
Boomer felt her vision shift and the fangs grow in her mouth. She leapt at the Morrígan, claws outstretched, reaching for the woman who claimed to be a goddess.
The Morrígan slapped Boomer aside with a wave of her hand without breaking stride. The vampire was airborne for ten feet until she crashed into the trunk of an oak tree. She felt something in her back snap, and she lost all feeling in her legs. The vampire succumbed to the blackness edging around her vision.
INCURSION: Faeblade (Knight's Bane Trilogy Book 2) Page 22