by Pat Cunningham, Savanna Kougar, Rebecca Gillan, Solara Gordon, Serena Shay
Maureen massaged her throat and offered up a wry grin. “I’m pretty much screamed out.”
Ewan couldn’t answer. His mouth was now a muzzle. Dante needed this new information, and a howl would travel faster than their feet. He lifted his head and filled his throat and sent his song out into the air, in the hopes wolf ears would pick it up.
****
Cochrane pointed. “There he is!”
The point wasn’t really necessary. A four-story-high mutant werewolf/mammoth hybrid was pretty easy to spot. He’d reached the open stretch of road that angled down toward the creek. If he made it past the bridge, it was only two miles to Talbot’s Peak. Even if the town was prepared, there would still be damage and injuries, maybe even casualties.
The monster wouldn’t cross the bridge. Even if Dante had to drive his motorcycle down its throat and choke it.
He turned to Rafe. “Is she still on his back?”
The golden eagle shifter shaded his eyes. “I don’t see anybody up there. Let me check.” He spread his arms, which shifted to wings, and sprang into the air. Cochrane and Turkle, more pragmatic, continued loading their elephant guns.
The long grass at the side of the road shivered and a wolf emerged. He loped up to Dante, where he shifted. Deuce hunched over with his hands on his knees and gulped in breaths. “Ewan,” he gasped when he had enough air. “Back there. Had a plan.”
It must not have worked, because the beast was still coming. Dante peered grimly at the rapidly-approaching Hellephant. “He’s not slowing,” he said, “and we can’t wait any longer. Will those things bring it down?”
“If we hit the right spots,” Turkle said. He and Cochrane nodded to each other. “We’ll hit the right spots.”
Off to the side, Syprelli stared in horrified fascination at the lumbering mammoth. She was not a fighter. Dante had expected her to shift and bolt well before now, but she’d held her ground, determined to do whatever she could to help. His admiration for the Pegasus shifter increased.
Rafe swept back and circled overhead. He shifted while still in the air, and landed hard. “Nobody’s up there,” he reported. “It’s just Jumbo by his lonesome. I didn’t see Ewan, or the werewolf or the girl.”
“Then we’re clear,” Dante said. “Fire atâ��”
Then he heard the song, the long coyote howl of trills and yips. The mammoth paused in mid-step, snorted through his trunk, and kept coming. “Whatâ��” Cochrane started.
Dante chopped his hand through the air for silence. He and Deuce listened intently to the coded message inside the howl, translatable only to canine ears.
When it ended, Deuce blinked at Dante. “Peanuts? He wants us to fight it with peanuts?”
“Food allergy,” Dante deduced. “Cochrane. Did your man have a food allergy?
“Is that what it was?” Cochrane said. “I thought he was just a prissy boy. Damn finicky about his food. Worse’n a goddamn cat.”
Dante had already tuned him out. “Your place is closest,” he said to Turkle. “Do you have any peanut products?”
“Hell yeah,” Turkle said. “Peanut butter. Buckets of it. The missus makes her own. She baked a batch of cookies this morning. There might be some left.”
“If we can get him to ingest some, it might slow him down, maybe even stop him completely. Rafeâ��”
“I’ll go,” Syprelli said. “I’m no good in a fight.”
“You’ll need someone to carry it. Will you take a rider? Deuce.”
Deuce saluted and darted toward Syprelli. Where the girl had been now stood a red horse with crimson-feathered wings. Deuce asked permission before he got on. He clung tight to her mane.
“Password’s ‘giblets,’” Turkle said. “Better yell it as you come in. The missus don’t know you two, and she’s got dead aim.”
“Got it,” Deuce said. His words were whipped away as the horse leaped skyward. She and her rider shot over the trees.
Far closer than he’d been only moments before, the mammoth lifted his trunk and trumpeted. He’d spotted the enemy. Tiny eyes narrowed in hate, he charged the bridge.
Meanwhile, no dragon reinforcement because…
Chapter Forty-two:
Queen of the World, or Not…
By Serena Shay
“I did warn you.”
“Really? Ugh, blaah. Eeee!” Karma slid from Erol’s lumpy back, choking and spitting before ending up flat on her ass. “Ow!” She climbed to her feet, rubbing her sore tush and watched the dragon create an easy slide down his wing for her friend. “You couldn’t have warned me about the bug fest a little sooner? They’re in my mouth, Gree! Yuck!”
“Well who knew you’d pull your Titanic impression and go all queen of the world?”
“I was flying, girlfriend, it’s expected.”
“So are the bugs.”
“Touché.” Karma dusted herself off and spit, once again digging deep into her throat and sinuses for a really good wad. Yeah, she could be as girly as the rest of them, but she had bugs in her mouth. Bugs! She shuddered, even as a camel she’d never cared for bugs. Unladylike behavior really was the least of her problems. “Pharaohs balls, I could use a drink.”
“What?!”
Greely’s squeak stopped her from letting loose with another mouthful and whipped her around.
“What’s wrong?”
The giant dragon dropped his head to bring his large nostrils up close to her face. “Your Egyptian is showing, Hump Back.” His humph and snort blew her hair back and smelled like burning everything.
“I am a camel and these bugs are worse than a mouthful of hot sand.”
“But Karma, Pharaohs ba, ah well, you know,” Greely stuttered and blushed, not even saying the word Karma loved to torture her with.
“Balls, Gree. Or would gonads, testies or nuts be better? Speaking of, you gonna show us a bit of the dangly bits when you shift, Slimey?”
“Karma Thys!” Greely gasped, making Karma smile. She placed her hands on her hips and stepped in front of the massive dragon as if to block him from view. “No, you’ll not see anything as Erol is magick, but you would do well to turn around and give him some privacy.”
“Okay, okayâ�¦” Karma rose her arms in a submissive gesture and turned away from her friend and that pesky dragon. A grin split her face seeing Greely’s protectiveness and love of Erol. It was as if she’d finally let go of that ridiculous doomed love business and let hope seep into her heart.
Love should always win. A heart so full leaves no room for hate. She’d heard that somewhere, but actually seeing the sentiment allowed her to understand it on a deeper level. Now if she could get Slimey there to have some fun she’d consider this job complete.
“So, how far do you figure we are from Sin City?” It was time to get this party on the road.
“I estimated only about a mile.” The dragon voice was now back to human as Erol stepped up beside her, Greely’s luggage slung over one shoulder and her friend snuggled up in his arms.
“Oh boy, seriously, you’re being carried the last mile in his human arms as well?” Karma griped even though she was secretly happy for her friend. “What about me and my bag?”
“I saw you pack that thing, hon, you’d need a mammoth to carry both it and your gorgeous, long body.”
“Well, of course I would.” She preened before grabbing the bag and wheeling it along behind her. “Too bad I can’t find one back in Talbot’s Peak.”
“Bite your tongue, Karma. Can you imagine the size of its excrement?”
“Pish on that, I’d be more worried about the size of its danglyâ�¦”
“Ladies,” Erol chuffed, clearly, not to thrilled by the turn in the conversation. “Let’s move.”
Karma and Greely looked at one another and laughed as they watched wisps of smoke curl out of Erol’s human nostrils. “Lighten up, E, this is Vegas baby and the dirty talk has just begun!”
~~~
Ziva follow-u
p
Ziva held her burgeoning belly as she laughed at Loki & Thor’s “newscast” of the Mammoth invasion. Those boys were naturals and would, one day, make excellent on the air personalities. She also wondered if Nick could find a place for them at the paper. Considering their ages, it would be to do little things that line their allowance pockets and perhaps to pick up a bit of newspaper knowledge, here and there. She couldn’t wait to broach the subject with him.
Hefting herself out of the chair she stood at the deck rails for a couple of minutes surveying what was left after the rampage. Banta poo, for sure, and there was her man, shovel in hand, to do what needed to be done for the town he loved.
Chapter Forty-three:
Atcheson Snaked His Monstrous Trunk
By Savanna Kougar
Atcheson snaked his monstrous trunk around another hapless tree, snapped it off at the base, and thrust it inside his admittedly cavernous mouthâ��where it didn’t last long. His hunger knew no end.
Fueling the franken-mammoth he’d been genetically transformed into was nightmarish. Morloxian had gleefully treated him like a prized child, feeding him high-nutrient formulas that kept his hunger at bay. Now he was on his own, and constantly starving.
Piss on it! The werewolf part of him howled for a side of beef. Hell, a whole herd of succulent, in their prime, beef on the hoof that he’d crash and tear throughâ��devouring until he’d finally had his fill. Once he finished trampling Talbot’s Peak, and all of its shit-unholy shapeshifting creatures into the dust as if they never existed…searching out the nearest cattle herd was his first priority. Unless…
Atcheson well realized he’d be the target of every monster hunter in the business. That thought had him wondering where Cochrane was lurking these days. The bastard would aim everything, even the kitchen sink, at him. But so what, if the Elmer Fudd-idjit lobbed his store of grenades. Hell yeah, bring it on!
With his quick-as-a-whip trunk, Atcheson figured he could catch the explosive devices, and hurl them back. Besides, he doubted the puny force of their explosions would do much to his superpowered snout. That is, except for breathing the smoke out like a dragon.
Driven by hunger, Atcheson wrapped his beastly trunk around the tall summer grass ripping it up. Dirt and all, he shoved it in his mouth, and kept on semi-trucking down the highway. Through beady eyes, he observed the mere humans scatter like ants.
Shitâ��and his mammoth crap plopped in gigundis pilesâ��humans weren’t high on his list of likeability either. Terrorizing the little scurrying apes gave him quite the thrill. Squealing tires announced their departure in silly little vehicles he could crush with one humongous foot.
Maybe, just maybe he’d been chosen by destinyâ��Atcheson had known he was destined to far surpass Cochrane as a monster hunterâ��if he had to become a mutant mammoth werewolf to destroy the supernatural monsters that now littered the entire planet, then so be it. With the catastrophic damage he could inflict in this form, he could force order out of paranormal chaos.
He trumpeted in glee, his trunk shooting skyward. Even that eagle shifter had failed to cause him a lick of harm. And that ridiculous winged horse…at least, she’d had the smarts to stay out of reach.
And now, with destiny operating through the pathetic wolf-coyote shifter who rescued ugly, glasses-hiding Maureen…Atcheson had been delivered him from his more-than-annoying riderâ��the too-silent, shifty-eyed Pete, who…no shit-surprise…was an infiltrator. Yeah, a wussy, ass-kissing spy for the Tiger Yakuza.
Atcheson stopped to give himself a violent shake. Without the mutated-into-a-werewolf-tiger’s claws digging into him, he’d been given free rein to reign over the world. But first, Talbot’s Peak!
He bellowed in sheer rage, tromping madly down the highway. Atcheson hardly felt the giant potholes that his weight and strength sunk through the asphalt. Oh yeah baby Dumbo, he could earthquake his way across the North American continent.
Right now, tidal waves of fury compelled Atcheson’s thundering march toward the shapeshifter enclave. Yet, he also burned with one helluva high. A whole new life lay ahead of himâ��mercilessly savaging whoever and whatever he wanted.
Just for shit and grins, Atcheson imagined consuming entire golf courses, crashing through football teams lined up for the last crucial play of a game…and compacting rows of cars at shopping malls.
With a swipe of his trunk Atcheson uprooted a line of saplings, tossing them down his throat. Given his insatiable hunger, he was damn effing glad there were no peanut fields to scarf up.
Although, he owned not one clue if his death-by-peanut’s allergy had translated into what Morloxian had said was his greatest mutant achievement to date. Him. The pride in the misshapen wolfman’s eyes had given Atcheson something he’d never emotionally gotten from his father. That was for shit fucking sure.
His father had been a monster in his own right. Well now, Atcheson had the power to fold, spindle, or mutilate any monster, any shifter at will. To prove it, he drove his death-dealing tusk through a jack-knifed, abandoned mack truck.
He raised it high over his head, blasted a trumpet of triumph, then gave his head a toss. The truck flew through the air landing atop the huge branches of the forest’s older trees. If he wasn’t hellbent on Godzilla-taking out Talbot’s Peak, Atcheson would have stopped to appease his appetite.
On second thought, before mangling everyone and everything in the shifter town, before stomping and stamping the entire town into a bloody combo of goo and dust…maybe he should suck up every last bit of food.
Then, it struck Atcheson. An ah-ha moment that squirmed through his rampaging haze, and into his mutated, possibly still mutating mammoth brain. How tasty were shapeshifters?
His werewolf side howled to find out. Howled for the taste of blood.
Chapter Forty-forty:
You Gotta Let Them Grow Up Sooner or Later
By Rebecca Gillan
“IPod loaded with the sound track play list?”
“Check.”
“Walkies?”
“Check.”
“Code book and all-weather graphite pencil for new words?”
“All pencils are graphite.”
“Do you have it or not?”
“Check.”
“County topographical map?”
“Check.”
“Flash lights?”
“Loki, we don’t need no flash lights; it’s daylight out.”
“Aaaaaand if we are still mammoth hunting when it gets dark?”
“Mom’s gonna kill us.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Marissa said, rubbing that spot on her forehead right between her eyes, the one that always managed to magically start throbbing every time her delightful sons got into one of their mischief moods.
“Dude! I thought you were going to cast a hear-me-not!” Loki hissed in a dramatic stage whisper that was every bit as loud as his regular speaking voice.
“Yer my twin, not my boss,” Thor responded in his normal speaking voice, knowing full well that overly dramatic whispering was not effective. “Besides, it’s not like it was going to take until sundown before she noticed we were gone.” Yep, that was Thor, my big, blond, very practical son. Loki may be the more cunning of the two, but Thor tended to think in practicalities where as his smaller dark haired brother preferred not to let reality interfere with possibilities.
“So? Ever hear that phrase, it’s easier to ask forgiveness than to ask permission?”
“Whoever said that didn’t have our mom keeping an eye on them.”
“Nice flattery, buddy, but I notice you are still planning to try sneaking out,” Marissa said.
“Nope,” he said.
“Nope?” Marissa asked, her voice dripping with disbelief.
“Dad and Moon-Moon are getting ready to leave to take up sentry duty on the outskirts of town for Uncle Nick. We were planning to beg to go along,” Loki said, glaring balefully at his brother.
“It’s going to be our first real hunt with the pack,” Thor said, a dopy grin splitting his eager young face.
“Hunt? You guys are eight years old. You are too young to go out hunting for rogue mutants.”
Hunt?” Mooney said as he walked into the kitchen. He looked at his scowling older son, grinning younger son, and then at his stony faced mate.
“Your sons have decided to get everything together so when you told them they couldn’t join this hunt because you had to go ‘right now,’ they would be able to tell you that they were ready to go.”
Mooney looked into Marissa’s stormy eyes and shrugged uncomfortably. “It’s not a bad idea, really.”
“They are only eight years old! They are practically babies!”
“They are also wolf pups, babe. They have to learn to hunt with the pack sometime. And this is a good hunt for them to join. It’s not just going to be McMahon Pack out there. The Wilks are going to be out there, all of Dante’s motley pack is already out there. The Fliddermouses are watching the sky. Heck, even the Turkles have gotten in on it. There will be lots of eyes to keep them out of trouble.”
Marissa turned her back, not wanting to look at him until she got her emotions under control. This wasn’t the witch’s way. Apprentice witches were strictly kept out of any fight until after their thirteenth birthday. But like he said, Loki and Thor weren’t witches. They weren’t even her kids, biologically speaking, but that didn’t matter to her. Their birth mother had given them to her and now they were hers, dammit!
“I’m sorry, Rissie. I know you don’t like it but it is what it is. You married into a Pack. Wolves hunt and when our home is threatened, we rally to defend it. Besides, it’s not like we’re on the front line. Me and Moon-Moon are on sentry duty, not front line duty. Dante’s guys are taking care of that on account of the fact he’s got more combat trained fighters. Look, just listen in on the CB band, ok? I see that the boys have their walkies. I’ll take Loki with me. Moon-Moon will take Thor with him. We’ll have the boys do a running commentary on what’s going on. You’ll be able to monitor everything.”