McGarrett shook his head, “Looks like we’ll be busy tonight just eliminating dogs, cats, and other beasts.”
Ike quickly went into action. “No we won’t. Last night after Taylor returned I cross-referenced the county’s pet registry with our search area.” He tapped the screen on his tablet computer and more than eighty percent of the red disappeared.
“Wow!” I said amazed. “That was cool.”
“Yeah, after it taking us half of last night to eliminate locations, I decided we needed a better way. This just made sense.”
“Indeed, Ike, you certainly take after your father,” McGarrett said. “Too bad about losing him, too.”
Ike looked at McGarrett frightfully, and Mr. Riley quickly realized his misstep. “I mean, losing him to Chile for a few weeks.”
“Oh right,” Ike said, regaining his composure.
“It looks like we still have a resident genius though,” McGarrett said as he patted Ike on the back.
“So it looks like there is still a hot spot near the mines, one near the old canning factory, and one south of the airport.”
I watched as the red hue glowed, pulsing as if it was alive. It wasn’t, but I knew the thing we were tracking, the thing that made the screen crimson, was.
“How’s the ankle?” Mr. Riley asked as he sat in a desk chair.
“Aw, feels fine,” I said, but in truth it was actually quite tender. I’d relied heavily on the crutch all day.
“Good, but are you sure?” he asked.
“Yeah.” I forced a smile. “Good as before last night.”
With that, the three of us headed to eat dinner before tonight’s hunt. A full meal of pot roast, carrots, potatoes, and Mrs. Riley’s fresh made bread with butter and jam.
Afterward, I was so full all I wanted to do was find my bed or a couch and curl up to sleep. But alas, McGarrett reminded me—of course waiting until we were excused from the dinner table—that it was time to gear up. The sun was setting and the moon would soon be in domination of the night sky.
Ike didn’t come with us right away, but instead disappeared into the kitchen while Mrs. Riley was still gathering the dishes.
I went to my room and grabbed one of the black under armor shirts from my closet. I laced up my pair of black New Balance shoes and off I went.
McGarrett was accessing video from the traffic and security cams around town, trying to get a glimpse of our target. The chief of police, Chief Rutledge, was a believer and he had helped secure the feed for us. “Mr. Riley, find anything?” I asked stretching my shoulders. The mention of his name made him jump. We were all on edge these days.
“Nope, but with Ike’s quick work, we’ve eliminated most of the locations,” he smiled and looked at his watch. “We have about twenty minutes before it will awaken. I think the first place we try is the old canning factory.”
“Why?”
“It has the highest reading, and the mines seem too easy. Plus, the mines always glow red. It’s a rarity that they normalize, no matter the sensor settings.”
I started to gather my essential gadgets into my pack, including a restock on my smoke grenades. The J-Pak hung waiting on a hook. I swallowed hard and sighed. It was the quickest form of transportation, having a top speed of 178 miles per hour. Of course I’d never tried it that fast. I wanted to, but so far my uses had been either under the watchful eyes of Mr. Riley and Mr. Swigart, or as I barreled through a tree. Not good times to push its speed limits.
The door swung open and Ike came tearing in; he was out of breath, and there was blood. Blood on his shirt, blood on his hands. Was he hurt?
I started for him when he held something out before him. Three red globes, or bags. He wasn’t hurt; he’d—well, invented something I guessed.
Ike made a beeline for me. He held out his hand, a proud smile across his face. “This is chicken blood,” he announced.
I looked at him disgustedly. “And?”
“I drained it from tomorrow’s dinner. Mrs. Riley had already killed the chickens,” Ike explained.
While fresh meat is the best, and there was no comparison to Mrs. Riley’s fried chicken, the grim aspect of killing the chickens remained. I never had to do it, but I was out back once when a chicken escaped from Mrs. Riley and was running around headless. Now the saying, Running around like a chicken with its head cut off, has a whole new meaning to me.
I stared at Ike. “So what are they?”
“Blood Bombs. I’ve drained the blood into these heavy latex balloons. If for some reason you find yourself out of options, toss one of these near the beast. It should at least briefly overwhelm its sense of smell, igniting its hunger. While its busy sniffing the blood, you’ll get the second you need to escape.” Ike handed me the bombs.
“Thanks.” The balloons fit nicely inside a small pouch that I tied to my belt.
McGarrett had turned in his chair and stared at Ike, an eyebrow raised in curiosity. “I see you’re breathing and that’s what matters, so I won’t ask. Can you help me get the J-Pack outside? Your dad undi—modified it while you were at school.”
By modified, McGarrett meant tweaked, but tweaked back to its original state.
I hobbled after them; my ankle felt worse. I assured myself it wasn’t fear.
I pictured the beast hunched over, its fangs bared, its bright green eyes staring me down. I knew it’d been about to pounce when I pulled my sword from its sheath.
McGarrett and Ike were near the car. Ike was looking over the J-Pak.
“Taylor, come over here; we’re losing time,” McGarrett warned.
I stood straight and they lifted the J-Pak into position, releasing its weight onto me.
Suddenly, my ankle buckled and I fell backward onto the J-Pak. A searing pain shot up my leg and I jerked in agony, but the jet pack straps over my shoulder held me down. I couldn’t move, stuck like a turtle on its back.
McGarrett and Ike released me, but Mr. Riley frowned and shook his head.
“This is going to be a bit of a setback. You can’t go out on that leg.”
Ike helped me to my feet and I winced, then felt liquid running down my leg. I looked down and saw blood.
“Looks like the contraption cut you as well,” McGarrett said and shook his head. Clearly he was frustrated, but had to act like he was concerned about my injuries. “Have Mrs. Riley look at that.”
Ike began to laugh.
“It’s not funny; Taylor’s seriously hurt. We have just 27 days left to stop the HowlSage, before it reaches its full strength. Have you forgotten what the creature’s purpose is? It has the power to summon minor demons. It could gather an army by the full moon and then we’d be hard pressed to stop even half of the demons from escaping into the countryside,” McGarrett scolded.
“I’m sorry.” Ike pulled the pouch away from my belt. He opened it and showed it to Mr. Riley and me.
One of the blood balloons had burst. I was covered in chicken blood, but it was better than my own.
“One of the bombs I made for Taylor,” Ike whispered sadly.
McGarrett frowned, “Well either way, get inside and have Mrs. Riley look at your ankle. I’m going to listen to the police scanner for a while. Let’s hope since it is still only two days old that it’s not feeling too frisky.”
Ike helped me across the driveway and up the grand front staircase of The Pink Hippo. We stepped into the quiet lobby and I stopped to take off my blood-soaked shoes, socks, and pants. No need to drip chicken blood all over the carpet.
“I’ll meet you in the library,” I said to Ike.
“OK,” he said sullenly.
“Ike, don’t worry. I’ll get it. It’s not your fault I got hurt,” I explained.
“But he’s right, we can’t let the HowlSage live to the full moon,” Ike started. “His venom will become potent and he could spread hate throughout the town.”
I knew what Ike said was true, but it was worse than even that. A HowlSage was a Magnum level
demon. There are several levels, the Masterum, Supremus, Magnum, Quantus, Regulus, Minor, and Microus. The HowlSage’s tactical purpose was to act as a landing party and general to a battalion of demons. The creature would come through and act as a strongman, guarding the Etherpit and allowing demons of lower levels to come through safely.
“I know, but I’ll get it. We have time,” I reassured Ike.
He forced a smile.
“I’ll see you in a little bit.”
Ike headed for the library and I headed to my room.
After changing into fresh clothes, I found Mrs. Riley in the lobby sitting near the fireplace. I showed her my ankle; which was now purple and swollen. She made an almost clucking noise as she evaluated the damage.
“Well dear, it’s off to the infirmary with you. We need to put a splint on and wrap it.”
We went up to the second floor where the walls between several of the guest rooms had been removed, making a large medical ward. There were seven beds and scores of medical equipment—some a bit outdated, but then updated by Ike’s dad, making it better than what the local hospital had available.
I laid down on one of the beds, and Mrs. Riley gathered her necessary supplies. I rolled my pant leg up far enough for her to access my ankle, in hopes of avoiding a gown.
She applied some salve, rubbing it in a little less gently than I would have liked. My leg involuntary lurched a couple of times, for which Mrs. Riley apologized, but assured me it was necessary to work the salve deep into my skin, thereby allowing it to seep into the tissue.
She placed the splint on each side of my ankle and then began wrapping. And wrapping. And wrapping. Soon the affected area looked like I’d grown a melon-sized growth just above my foot.
Of course, walking now became an art, but there was no more twinge of pain when I stepped down. I could put all my weight on both legs, but it was a challenge not to bump the right ball of bandage against my left foot, causing me to stumble.
I hobbled my way to the biggest of the two libraries, probably one of Ike’s favorite and one of my least favorite rooms in the old inn. Two stories of paper, as in books, surrounded the circular room—most really old, from the 19th and 20th centuries. In other words, very few that I would actually read.
I did find a few books intriguing, like Frankenstein. Now that was an interesting story—man trying to play God, but realizing God cannot be played.
Sure enough, Ike was seated comfortably in an overstuffed chair, one with a few bite marks from the Riley’s former dog, Gruff. There were at least a dozen books open on the ground surrounding Ike’s chair.
I knew these books weren’t left over from a time before; they’d been skimmed just tonight. When Ike was looking for something he was like a machine.
“Ike!”
He jumped at least a foot when I said his name.
I laughed. “A little edgy are we?” I asked.
He shook his head, “You shouldn’t do that to a guy. And—and you would have startled too, if you’d just read what I did.”
“Oh yeah, let me take a look.” I walked over to Ike and he offered me the current book.
“It’s from 1834,” he said.
“Oh really.” I turned it over in my hand, half laughing inside at the fact that a book written in the early 1800s could at all be frightening. I read the cover: The HowlSage Haunting. So?”
“Read the subtitle.”
“How the hunter became the hunted.”
Chapter Three
October 4th—Wednesday
The next morning I got up on my own at 7 a.m., no Ike jolting me awake. I went to the fifth floor bathroom to take a shower.
The inn was built before hotels started including bathrooms in guestrooms, so there were two bathrooms to each floor—a men’s and women’s.
It was sort of nice living in a seven-story inn with just two other families. I had the entire fifth floor to myself. You’d think it’d be lonely, but not really. Ike and his family were on the third floor and the Rileys on the first. Sometimes we’d have guests from other chapters of the society and they’d stay on the fourth or sixth floor. Really, I didn’t spend much time on my floor; mainly just to sleep and wash-up. But sometimes if I wanted to get away, it was nice.
I wrapped my ankle with plastic to keep it dry. I was known for lengthy showers. There was something about the water running on your face, the steam swirling round. It gave me clarity, helped me feel cleansed and refreshed.
I dried off and undid the plastic from my ankle. A thick layer of steam filled the room. I wrapped my towel around me and stepped into heavy air. The mirror was completely fogged over and I could barely see my reflection.
With an extra hand towel, I wiped a path dry. That was bett—
My body involuntary jerked backward, my brain sending a defensive message to my muscles before I even consciously knew what was happening.
I ducked, rolled, and popped to my feet, five feet away from the threat.
There, staring at me, was the furry beast, the creature I was hunting. The HowlSage.
I was armed with nothing more than a towel. It brandished razor claws and fangs; each set two inches in length.
I made quick work of the towel, twisting it into a whip. It might work. A damp towel had a powerful snap to it.
What was I thinking; the towel wouldn’t even penetrate the thick brown matted coat of the beast.
In three seconds I would launch myself backward and through the door.
One…
Two…
Roar!
Its furry head was in my face and on me before I had a moment to react. I grabbed at its ears and twisted, in the only offensive maneuver I knew. I’d seen it done in James Bond films a dozen times.
The head came loose; I’d ripped it clean from its torso.
Wait.
Laughing?
Out from the steam stepped someone I’d not expected. It’d been a month since I’d seen him at my dad’s funeral. With curly brown hair, chocolate skin, and at six-foot-seven, my cousin Jesse could easily pull off a HowlSage when shrouded by steam.
He looked at the twisted towel on the floor and started laughing even harder, grabbing hold of the nearby counter to brace himself as he howled uncontrollably. Maybe howl wasn’t the right word to use in this circumstance, but either way he was thrilled with the results of his prank.
I scowled, reached for my towel, and wrapped it tightly around myself. Picking up the fake werewolf head, I turned it over in my hands, observing it. Clearly he’d recently been to a Halloween costume store. They’d popped up everywhere in the last month. I exhaled an angry sigh and tossed the mask at Jesse. It bounced off his side, throwing him into another fit of laughter.
My cheeks flushed as I walked out of the bathroom. Angry no, embarrassed yes. But yet happy—Jesse was here.
Back in my room I got dressed in my usual school attire and waited. It’d only be a moment yet.
Sure enough, the door creaked open, and the now wet, soggy werewolf head poked around the open door, speaking in a mocking voice. “Tay Tay, I’m gonna get you. You’d better get your towel.”
I threw my pillow at the door; it bounced off and rolled aside as Jesse entered the room.
“So you’re here,” I said.
“Yeah, I’m here. Surprised?”
“A little.”
“Scared?”
“You wish.”
“So I hear you’ve got a HowlSage on your hands.”
“Yeah, sure do. And with dad gone, it’s me left to guard the Etherpit.”
“Naw, it’s up to us,” Jesse said with a half smile.
“You’ve been sent? You’re not just stopping on your way to another assignment?”
Jesse shook his head. “Nope, since I turned eighteen I make my own rules. I go where I want to.”
“Ha, your parents would never…”
“My parents nothing; I’m an adult now.”
A knock on the door in
terrupted the banter.
“Can we come in?” came the sweetest voice I knew besides my mom, sweeter than Mrs. Riley.
In walked my aunt Mary and uncle Matt. Quite the pair, you see. My aunt Mary had dark skin and was taller than my uncle, whose skin was as pale as the moon three nights ago.
I looked at Jesse and shook my head, then mouthed his line about making his own rules.
My uncle snorted. “Don’t worry Taylor. We overheard Jesse’s little comment about going where he wants to. We’ll see if he can pay for that car on his own.”
Jesse blushed.
“Did you drive here?” I asked.
“Yeah, Dad and Mom drove separate,” Jesse explained.
“We’re off to New York. I’ve got some research to do at the Museum up there,” Uncle Matt explained. “But Jesse here is going to stick around and hopefully be of some assistance to you.”
I stood from the bed immediately. “Really!” I exclaimed, sounding like a little boy who’d just found out he was going to Disney World. Which was a bit more excitement than I wanted to reveal. I knew full well that Jesse would let that go to his head. “I mean—cool.”
“We do wish we could stay longer,” my aunt said sweetly. “But Matt is needed immediately to look at a sarcophagus. Traces of a Sage were detected.”
My uncle Matt sighed. “We were in Egypt just a few days ago when the decision was made to move it to New York. I said we should just leave it there. But I was overruled.”
I did wish they could stay, but knew that my uncle was one of the top archeologists in for the Legion der Dämonjäger. He once hunted, but lost half his right leg to a bite from a BloodSage. To stop the spread of the venom, he’d had to remove it on the spot. I’ll save you the gory details of how he did it. But that’s why he could no longer hunt. But by applying the field experience he had, he could sense things others couldn’t.
“We only stopped by to make sure Jesse arrived as intended,” my uncle Matt looked over at my cousin with a frown. “Your aunt and I will be off for New York in just a few minutes actually. However, Jesse is here for the remainder of the hunt.”
A wry smile crossed Jesse’s lips. “That’s right, lil’ cuz. Me and you hunting together.”
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