He claps and actually seems quite pleased I had been able to foil him. I get the feeling he’s been dying to tell someone everything. Psychopaths always want an audience. “Then I had Jason bite you and . . . well. After you didn’t turn or die, I realized the true nature of your power. I don’t think you realize how unique you are, my Phoenix.”
“What are you talking about?”
He steps close again to stand between Hawk and me. “Did you know that dragon magic bestowed on a Blessed isn’t a replication of the dragon’s own abilities? It’s an endowment of power that conforms to that specific individual. No two Blessed are quite the same. There is only one you, the one and only Phoenix, who transformed that power into a way to save her brother.”
At this he swivels around on Hawk and lays a hand on his head. I want to rip his arm out of its socket.
“Don’t touch him,” I growl and curl my hands into fists.
Dasc spins about, jumping a little in his excitement, the same way he reacted when we discussed Greek mythology in class. My brain is having a hard time putting my teacher and this lunatic together.
“There it is!” he exclaims. “It’s that drive, that protective instinct you have for your brother. No one before has been in your shoes. There’s never been a Blessed on the planet with a werewolf sibling, let alone a twin, that chose to save him and not push him away. It’s that bond that’s made you what you are! I’ve seen the way you two jump in front of danger for the other. It’s admirable. It really is. And that’s what makes this so much harder.”
“You mean the part where you’re going to kill me?”
He shrugs as if it’s no big deal. “I don’t want to. I like you, Phoenix. You’ve got courage and tenacity, but you’re a danger to me and my brethren. I’m sorry.”
“Were my parents in your way, too?” I growl. “Were they a threat?”
He purses his lips and rubs his hands together slowly. “They were a bit too clever. I meant to turn your whole family but things didn’t turn out as expected, and neither did you.”
“What about my brother?” I try to catch Hawk’s eye but he continues to hang his head. I want him to look up and let me know he’s okay. I want to see his normal green eyes untainted by the yellow glint of Dasc’s madness in his blood. I want my brother back.
“Oh, him? Once you’re out of the picture there won’t be anything stopping him from joining my pack.”
“He would never.”
“Not under his own will, no, but you see I can be very persuasive.” He winks and marches over to fake Jefferson. He claps him on the shoulder.
I point between the two of them. “Since when are your kind pals?”
Dasc’s blue eyes land on me intensely serious for the first time. “When there’s a purpose. There are bigger monsters than me. A war’s coming, Phoenix. I’m just moving the pieces into place.” Then he’s light and demented again and points to Jefferson. “I suppose I could always turn you rather than kill you.”
“I’d rather kill myself than be your schweinhund,” Jefferson spits.
“Oh well, in that case—” He nods to fake Jefferson. “Do you have enough to play him convincingly?”
“I think so.”
“Then kill him and toss him in the lake. No one will find the body this time of year.”
“What? No!” I start to struggle. Killing Jefferson and enslaving Hawk? Over my dead body. The shapeshifter hauls Jefferson to his feet and tries to wrap his hands around either side of Jefferson’s head but Jefferson fights him and fights hard. They thrash against each other on the beach and kick up sand.
“Now, now, no need to get all excited,” Dasc says as if he’s talking to a toddler.
While they continue to spar, Dasc stretches a hand out palm first towards Hawk. My brother twitches and a deep growl emanates from his throat. Hawk takes deliberate steps towards me.
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” I shout. “Hawk, snap out of it. You’ve got to fight it. You’ve got to help me!”
He flips his tail and keeps coming towards me. Jefferson and fake Jefferson fall to the ground wrestling. Dasc sighs and motions to another werewolf nearby to help the shapeshifter. I’m burning up and shaking at the effort of trying to get through to my brother. I was already weak when I got here. I don’t know if I can reach him through the compulsion.
“Hawk, come on! It’s me, buddy.” I struggle against the hold on my arms. Jason and Ben grunt as they strain to keep me secure. “Hawk, can you hear me? I’m your sister, don’t you remember?”
His tail flips again—just once. He closes in and comes within five feet, easy leaping distance. He finally lifts his head and I can see his green eyes. In the faint moonlight I can’t be sure, but I can’t find a trace of yellow.
Jefferson lets out a cry as the werewolf sweeps its claws across his shoulder and he narrowly avoids being bitten. I’m momentarily distracted but turn back to Hawk just in time to see him leap. I lean to the side and he bowls over Jason, freeing my arm and allowing me to grab the front of Ben’s jacket. With the full force of my body, I fling him forwards onto his back.
“No!” Dasc shouts. He storms forward, his bared teeth already shifting into fangs.
There’s nothing for it now. I can either let Dasc rip me apart and kill the people I care about or I can take action and use deadly force. Despite everything Dasc has done I don’t want to kill him. I don’t want to kill anyone, but nothing’s going to stop me from saving my brother. And Dasc basically said himself he’s the source of the werewolf persuasion. Once he’s out of the picture the others should be free.
I wrench my mother’s gun out of my waistband, spin about so I’m crouched protectively over Hawk, holding one arm across his furry shoulders to steady myself, and bring the gun up on my other side to level it with Dasc’s chest. There I freeze, unwilling to let the destructive force in my hand fire. I’m not a killer. Dasc’s teeth are bared and he’s partially shifted. His eyes blaze yellow and he’s coming to kill me and do who knows what to my brother. Terror courses through me and I know there’s only one way to stop him.
The night shatters in the explosion of the red bullet leaving the barrel. Dasc jerks and stands still. His teeth shrink to normal and the black fur on his hands and face recedes or falls away. In an unhurried motion he brushes a hand over his chest like he’s trying to wipe chalk dust off his shirt after a long day in class. His fingers come away red. I’m shaking and can’t hear a thing except the ringing in my ears. When he takes another step towards me my body reacts automatically.
I fire and fire again until I empty the entire clip into his chest.
This time he staggers, clutches at his chest, then crumples backwards into the sand. Three seconds tick by in silence as the other werewolves look on. Then there’s howling and barking and growling. Hawk shoves against my back and forces me towards Jefferson still struggling against the werewolf and shapeshifter. Hawk lunges for the other wolf and they tumble away together into the lake.
Both Jeffersons are bloodied at this point and I can’t tell which one is the real one and which is the fake. The real one got clawed on the shoulder but I can’t make it out in their struggle and the darkness.
“Jefferson!” I shout. I glance over my shoulder to the wolves snapping at each other but a lot of their focus is on me like I’m fresh meat.
“It’s me!” one of the Jeffersons shout.
“No, it’s me!” the other shouts before strangling his copy. They kick against each other and continue to roll on the ground.
The one being strangled into the sand wheezes out, “Save me, young adult.”
Oh. Clever. Only the real Jefferson would remember me pestering him about not calling us kids. I lunge forward and send a kick into fake Jefferson’s temple before he can strangle my Jefferson. The shapeshifter falls to the side and the real Jefferson grasps at his throat coughing. I kneel on fake Jefferson’s chest and clock him with the butt of my empty gun until he falls unc
onscious.
The wolves start to swarm towards us as I’m kneeling in the sand and Jefferson remains prone, clutching at his neck. I thought taking out Dasc would solve everything but I guess his hold on the wolves was stronger than I thought. Dasc was right, though. I’ve lost too much blood and I’m exhausted. There’s no way I’ll be able to stop any of them.
I hear splashing and out of the lake comes Hawk dripping wet to stand before us. He snarls and snaps at any wolves that come close. His hackles rise and he stretches up to his full height. His ears are flat back and he’s terrifying. The other wolves shy away and some even tuck in their tails. Hawk holds his ground and bites those too intent on getting to me and Jefferson. Despite the sheer number of wolves against Hawk, they back down under his fierce display. That, and I’m sure having Dasc out of the picture helps.
We’re at a stalemate when a sound in the distance grows louder as it closes in. The field is suddenly flooded with light as a pair of helicopters swing overhead and the air gusts around us at their approach. The wolves whine and a few scatter to the woods. There are several loud pops from rifles held by agents hanging out the helicopter doors, their feet braced against the landing skids. The werewolves trying to flee fall and I’m terrified they’ve been shot for real.
“Tranquilizers,” Jefferson wheezes and puts a hand on my shin as he sits up.
I put a hand on his back and watch the helicopters drop lower on opposite sides of the field to corral the werewolves together to be more easily managed. IMS agents rush the field and it’s clear the fight is over. We did it.
“Who ever thought you’d be saved by acknowledging someone isn’t a snot-nosed kid?” I say out of breath.
He tries to laugh but wheezes some more as he rubs at his throat and clutches his bleeding shoulder. The werewolves have all but forgotten about us with the arrival of the IMS. Hawk comes over to curl around my back protectively and keeps his head lowered over my shoulder. I allow myself to lean fully against him. I’m all out of juice and ready to pass out.
“What did I tell you?” I pant. “Moose Lake was bound to be boring.”
Chapter 30
Sitting in the back of a specialized undercover IMS ambulance, I’m poked and prodded and have bandages slapped on every inch of my face, neck, arms, and legs. The medic almost changes the bandage on my arm hiding the werewolf bite but I assure her it’s fine, an old wound really, and she lets it be. The last thing I need, with IMS agents crawling all over, is for them to figure out what I am and haul me off to a dark room to be tested for the rest of my life. Jefferson’s warning has really sunk in and the thought of someone else figuring out what’s in my blood terrifies me. The medic finishes patching me up and I look a little like a mummy. At least I don’t have to fight anyone, stop a psycho’s war, rescue a pack of werewolves, or even move for that matter.
The medic straps an ice pack to my knee and I’m allowed a moment of peace, at least for a little while. I’m sure there’s going to be plenty of questions to answer, paperwork to complete, and explanations to give. I hope that comes much later though. I’ve got insane fever chills and I’m wrapped up in a blanket. I wish the medic had left me some candy bars or something. I’m starving. Trying to hold off a horde of werewolves and their alpha has taken everything out of me.
Hawk clambers up drying himself off with a towel and takes the empty bench seat next to my stretcher. He hangs his head and doesn’t say anything. I don’t think I want him to. From his glum expression I can guess he feels guilty, but he shouldn’t.
He ruffles the back of his hair and sets the towel aside. “He tried to use me like a puppet.”
“And he failed,” I say. “We put him down, Hawk.”
“No, you did. You saved all of us.”
“Ehh, don’t try to make me sound too heroic. It’ll go straight to my head.” I lean back and try to make myself comfortable. “My hats won’t fit anymore.”
He smiles and leans forward to set his elbows on the edge of the stretcher. “Thanks, Fifi, for not giving up on me.”
“I never will. Not ever.”
“Geez, is this the sappy mobile?” Jefferson says in a gravelly voice as he comes around the open doors. He’s got his arm in a sling, almost the same amount of bandages as me, and two black eyes.
“That shifter really cleaned your clock,” I say.
“Oh, yeah. We had a grand old time.” He sighs and leans against the frame of the ambulance. “So what happened to you anyway?”
I lick my lips and try to smile. “Yeah, about that. Your truck is sort of a metal pretzel.”
“What?” He straightens and braces his good hand on the end of my stretcher. “What happened?”
“Well, you had a shapeshifter and I had werewolves with a semi. Let’s leave it at that.”
His face contorts like he’s eaten something super sour. His beady eyes are almost lost beneath his furrowed brow but eventually he lets out a sigh and accepts defeat.
“At least it wasn’t the Green Monster.” He shakes his head then looks me square in the eye. “I’m glad you’re still kicking, Phoenix. You did good . . . for a young adult.”
Coming from him, that’s saying something. When we first came here I couldn’t stand the guy. Now he’s like a grouchy uncle. I never had someone of the sort before. “I appreciate that, Jefferson. Really.”
He rolls his eyes. “We don’t have to hug now, do we?”
“Heck no. I’m going to lie right here and take a nap. Wake me up when the next crisis comes along. Actually, on second thought, don’t wake me.”
I’m serious about the nap but someone raps their knuckles on the metal of the ambulance door. I prop myself up to find Director Knox himself standing there. He’s in a long trench coat and his expression is deadly serious. Granted, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him with a different expression, but it’s certainly a surprise to see him here.
“Agent Barnes,” he says and nods to Jefferson. “Phoenix, Hawk.”
“Sir,” we each answer in turn.
“Thanks to you three a city has been saved, a major crisis averted, and a dangerous criminal apprehended.”
“The shapeshifter, you mean?” I ask.
“No. The werewolf under the proxy of James Krushnic, or Lycaon, or whatever he prefers to be known as—”
“Dasc,” I say. “But he’s dead. I shot him. I emptied a magazine of wolfsbane bullets into his chest.”
“I know.” The director wrings a scarf in his hands before stuffing it into his pocket. “Whatever Dasc is, he’s more powerful than any werewolf I’ve ever seen. He survived, barely, so we’re bringing him in. We’ll let him heal, then interrogate him. There are still people unaccounted for and questions we need answered.”
My gut twists knowing that devil’s still alive. I thought I had ended it and avenged my parents. I had been terrified to put him down but I would do it again. Just the thought of him somehow escaping IMS custody makes my skin crawl.
“We’re taking every precaution,” Director Knox continues. “A dragon has even arrived to oversee Dasc’s incarceration.”
“Which dragon?”
He gives me a long look and throws the scarf around his neck. “You know the one.”
The director nods again and starts to leave.
“Wait!” I call after him.
He walks back into view. “I’ve got a mess to handle, Phoenix.”
“I know, I just—so we aren’t being kicked out of the IMS?”
For the first time I’ve known him, the director smiles. “Not now.” Then he holds up a finger before he walks away and adds, “But don’t take that as license to get into more trouble. I expect you two to follow the rules. Keep your noses clean.”
Warmth swells in my chest and I smile at my brother. He smiles in return and Jefferson even grins a little. Team Thunderstruck sits around in the ambulance for a while longer watching the werewolves come back to themselves. They shift out of wolf form and I witness all
the people we saved from Dasc’s influence. I watch Ben and his mother find each other and hug before she starts shouting at him and everyone else in the vicinity. A couple of IMS agents in black military gear try to calm her but she shouts at them too. Jefferson laughs at a safe distance.
Deputy Graham is one of the few missing persons to reappear. He walks around dazed in his now filthy deputy uniform and, after being treated, eventually stumbles over to our ambulance. Jefferson shakes his hand and claps him on the back.
“You okay?” Jefferson asks.
His mouth twitches into an uncertain smile. “I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”
“We tried to find you, Jared. I’m sorry.”
“I doubt you would have found me anyway.” The deputy smooths back his longish hair and itches at the thick scruff on his face. “After I was bitten that day we went looking for those teens, I went north to Carlton and Wrenshall for a while. He tried to have me turn some other deputies but the further away I got, the less he was in my head, you know? I guess I fought it enough to make him nervous and he called me back.”
The thought of Dasc trying to infiltrate law enforcement gives me chills. He really was preparing for a war.
“We’re glad you’re okay,” I say.
“Thanks.”
He moves off uncertain until another IMS agent finds him and offers him fresh clothes and a ride home. Shortly after, the ambulance crew gets their rig ready to go and we roll out of the woods to return to the field office. Early the next morning Jefferson returns to the state park to pick up the Green Monster and we start the huge undertaking of getting things back to normal.
It takes time to heal. I sleep for almost two days straight after the fiasco at the lake. My arm aches like mad and Hawk slaps my hand away every time I want to scratch at my itching scabs. Jefferson is a grouch as usual but we’ve got a good team of IMS agents sticking around for at least a little while to help us sort it all out. Deputy Graham helps as much as he can. The rest of the werewolves, now that Dasc has been hauled away to Underground, revert to their normal selves. Regular doses of the serum are administered and Moose Lake is back to being a quiet town in the northwoods of Minnesota.
The Curse of Moose Lake (International Monster Slayers Book 1) Page 32