Placing one of his muddy boots on the seat of a nearby park bench, his brow wrinkled as he thought about the task ahead. The uniform he wore had apparently grown tighter across his chest, borderline uncomfortable since gaining all that weight over the past year. His rolled-up sleeves also showed off his physique, along with detailed ink work running down those well-built forearms.
“Shepard,” came a calming voice from the gloom, another human soon joining him. “Black-Dragon has completed their reconnaissance of the building and it seems the early reports were right: the wolves are in their pens with smokies at their side.”
“Thanks for the update, Nathan,” Gabriel Shepard replied, traces of a Southern accent riding on his words. “Sounds like we’re a go then.”
“It’s Nathaniel,” the man corrected, adjusting his brown belt in a manly fashion before stroking his fingers through his tight beard, “and you’re welcome… sir.”
Gabriel returned a smile, gleaming absurdly white in the darkness. “Really could charm the pants off of anyone with that voice, couldn’t ya?” he said as he chuckled, smacking his lips soon after. “Too bad ya can't conjure up a cure for being hungry as fuck before a mission. I could really use a pecan pie right about now – not that store bought kind mind ya, but one like Momma makes. Geez, who am kidding, starving as I am right now any Gedunk will do.”
Nathaniel wondered if he was serious, imagining him scarfing down a whole pie. Admittedly, that hangry feeling was creeping up on him, too. The prep for this mission had been quite literally hell, taking up far too much time as all of these dissimilar monsters tried to work with each other toward a single goal. It all sounded so great in the rapid-fire briefings and when reading about it in reams of paperwork, but reality was always a bitter bitch and she showed that the only common thing those differing ideals had was a monstrous headache.
Nathaniel happened to have been placed in charge of Blue Squadron, dubbing his team the Knights as a counter to Hell’s own. He had been plucked right out field ops around Spokane, unsure if he would rather be there versus knee-deep in this politically correct shit. He was honestly glad when he found out the other three members of his team were human – things would likely flow much better now that was the case.
Gabriel on the other hand had been reassigned from naval operations further north once the pack of werewolves was tracked right into his own backyard. He was given command of Gold Squadron for this operation, selecting Lions as their moniker. He had a mixed team under him, comprised of another human, a falcon shifter, and a rogue werewolf – who happened to be the one that helped them get this far.
That left the final of the three groups, Red Squadron formed out of the newly forged alliance with the vampires. Three of the team were biters, however the fourth – in command and yet to arrive – was a human.
A dark figure stepped through a doorway like a subtle puff of white smoke, a gentle pop receding into the haze. He was dressed in a dark suit and tie, rough stubble visible in the muted light.
Nathaniel’s jaw hit the floor when he noticed who it was, sinking further into the dirt knowing that he, of all people, was in charge of the Red-Vamps.
“Ralph… Dean… Gideon,” Nathaniel said in a friendly enough manner, though there were hints the both of them weren't on the best of terms. He approached Ralph, extending a hand to shake. “Guess slaying vamps then catching one that would lead us into this strange alliance wasn't good enough to retire on?” he asked. “Did you at least get a commendation, ya British fucker? It's been way too long.”
“Ay up Nate,” Ralph responded with a smirk. “Doing alright? Glad to see you up and about since Cleveland; nasty bit of business there.”
They shook hands, giving each other a genial hug.
“Yeah, I'm managing,” Nathaniel told him. “The leg’s still giving me some trouble though, but I put in for one of those new edition automatons, so we’ll see if I'm lucky enough to warrant an upgrade.” He paused, shiftiness peeking through his eyes. “So, you have to tell me, are you still shacked up with that pussy?”
Ralph let out a glorious laugh, just shy of being too loud. “Oh, that's a beauty,” he replied, wagging a finger Nathaniel’s way. “For the record, yes I am and off the record, Kuro sends her regards.”
Gabriel was listening to the exchange, growing irritated during the back and forth. “Finally here Gideon?” he asked snidely, interrupting their conversation to get a move on.
“Obviously, mate,” he replied with a gentle eyebrow raise. “Here in the flesh.”
Gabriel turned down his lips even further, “So good of you to join us while we’ve been standing here waiting. Plus, who the hell is this ‘Kuro’ and why are we talking about her now? We've a mission to get through.”
“One: she's a Felidaen,” Ralph answered matter-of-factly as he walked by, hiking a thumb back toward Nathaniel. “Two: that guy right there is an arse, and three: going back to number one, no, Kuro and I aren't fucking. So don't even go there. Does that answer your bloody questions?”
“Aye,” Gabriel replied, unsure if he hated Ralph or actually liked the asshole. While trying to formulate a better response, he was cut short when Thompson, the shifter, spotted movement across the water.
“We have wolves out,” he said, watching them through his shifted eyes. The shadowy canines were herding a group of humans inside the building – whether to turn them or eat them was unclear. “Captives present as well, sir.”
“Roger,” Gabriel replied as the team crouched behind cover, most activating their cloaks via a quick button press on their wrists. The air just above their skin and clothes rippled and from the outside, they became transparent. The darkness would help mask any defects in the field, which would make them visible upon movement. Though imperfect, this tech was far more reliable than using a ward or spell on sorties, which could give out at any point without notice.
“Okay squids, listen up.” Gabriel said with authority. “The objectives tonight are simple. First: clear the building of any werewolves and demons. Be sure to check your ammo and make sure that it's the right kind. Second: rescue any prisoners if they're alive and it's not too late for them. Third: don't get yourselves killed and when you’re done get your asses out of there. We’ll meet up at the rendezvous point after, worst case oh-two-thirty. Understood?”
There were nods from Nathaniel and Ralph, indicating their teams were ready to go. However, Gold-Lion had a snag, the werewolf grunting disapprovingly.
“Problem, Leidolf?” Gabriel asked.
“Not for me; we shall be fine,” he growled, his yellow eyes beaming at Nathaniel’s team. “Though I am worried for our Knights over there.”
“If you have a problem with us,” Nathaniel said pointedly, “you can take it up directly with me, runt.”
“You're doing this NOW of all times?” Gabriel muttered, shutting his eyes in frustration.
Leidolf scoffed, his snout crinkling to show rows of plaque coated teeth. “I just wonder what chance four unarmed humans will have against a pack of fifteen werewolves?”
Nathaniel’s arm shot up, flexing. Sigils whirled around his hand before it all burst into powerful flames. “Oh trust me, we'll be fine.”
That seemed to satisfy the wolf, who drifted into silence with the rest.
Leidolf continued to breath heavily, ready to go as the vampires extended their fangs and claws alike, scraping the latter against the hard ground. Thompson stepped back a pace while the gruesome sounds of shifting accompanied his transformation into a bird of prey.
Gabriel packed away Thompson’s clothes while the remaining humans brandished their firearms or charged up their fists. He then reached into his pocket for something, his heart beating as he prayed to himself this mission would go well.
“Now that we've cleared the air, let's move!”
Without further delay, he threw down the teleportation stone that he'd pulled out and as it shattered, the entire team was compressed into thin ai
r, beginning their mission with a boom.
JOEY AND MARCUS got out of old beater before the driver, an old man wearing what had to be the thickest glasses ever made, sped away from the visitor’s area before vanishing in a cloud of oily smoke accompanied by an explosive backfire. Thankfully, probably due to the inclement weather, nobody was there to turn their heads at the loud noise.
“Well that was fun,” Marcus observed as the cold wind breezed across his face.
“Yeah, that was awfully similar to how Gage describes my driving,” Joey replied, a sudden look of shock slapping across his face.
Marcus grew worried. “What’s the matter?”
“Fuck! The car,” Joey said. “It’s still parked at the goddamn airport in Houston.” Marcus let out one of his deep chuckles that Joey found irresistibly sexy; it seemed to take the edge off the realization of his massive bill, though he had to ask, “You think I can have the Order pay for that?”
Marcus pulled up the hood of his slick raincoat, proceeding to march ahead.
“Hey I was serious!” Joey stressed, fastening them tight to keep the chill wind out as they walked to the west.
Ahead of them, past the stretch of green fields, majestic shale and sandstone cliffs rose up out of the deep blue of the Atlantic, waves vigorously beating at the base of the rugged coastline. The both of them began looking for the way into the Otherworld, not expecting to be at it for very long. Half an hour later they realized how wrong they were.
“See anything yet?” Joey asked, hoping that Marcus was having more luck that he was in finding the damn henge.
“Nada,” Marcus replied regretfully. “This would be a challenge without all this rain! Certainly adds to the enjoyment, eh?”
“You got that right,” Joey said, the front of his hair peeking out from the top of the hood, drenched.
Another fifteen minutes passed as the two of them walked down the ridgeline, searching for what should be a large set of upright stones that would indicate the doorway. There was absolutely nothing of that nature as far as their eyes could see.
Frustrated as they neared an hour of fruitless hunting, Joey took it out on a nearby rock. He reared back his boot and kicked it hard in the hopes of sending it flying. However, it didn’t budge, instead sending him to the ground to nurse his agonized big toe.
“Well done J…” Marcus said in jest, his voice fading as the ground beneath them began to rumble. “Um… what the hell did you do?”
“Me?” asked Joey accusatorily. “Why is it always me doing something when it goes wrong?”
“Because ninety-nine percent of the time that’s always the case,” Marcus said, squatting to gain a little bit of extra balance.
Joey did the same soon afterward, muttering, “I really do hate you at times.”
As the shaking continued, the rock Joey had kicked pulled itself into the ground seconds before bursting out amidst globs of sludge. As the debris cleared, it was revealed to be one part of a much larger piece: a nail in the finger of a hand, affixed to a mammoth arm made of the same material as the cliffs. A second arm tore its way out of the ground with a booming crash. Two more followed before all of them fell forward, joining together at the last possible moment in mid air.
Fragments of rock and specks of mud rained down on the two Journeymen, Joey peeking up to find a megalithic henge had been born around and above them.
“Found it.”
Marcus cracked his eyes open and looked around as well, bouncing between hugging Joey or ringing his neck. “I guess you did,” Marcus said with relief that they were still alive and not crushed underneath tons of rock.
“So what do we do now?” Joey asked, standing himself up. He extended a hand, pulling Marcus up to join him.
“Same thing we always do: say the magic word. Although, call me crazy, but I suggest we stand outside the henge, just in case.”
He didn’t have to ask twice, Joey already making his way out from underneath the deadly-looking structure, dragging Marcus by the arm.
“So is this an earth elemental or something?” Joey asked, never having seen one like this before. “I thought most were more plant-like, though it seems too big for a golem if you ask me.”
“I agree,” Marcus said, impressed with Joey’s knowledge of lore. “This could be a variant of some kind. Regardless of what it is, it’s our way to get into the Otherworld for sure.”
Marcus removed a satchel from his bulging jacket pocket, similar to the one he had used in Peru, though this bag contained an ample supply of green dust. Reaching in with his fingertips, he snagged a pinch and tossed it into the air, the emerald powder sparkling and twirling before it latched itself to the center of the henge where the stone hands had joined.
“Oscail,” Marcus said deeply and with conviction.
“You keep a dictionary in that brain of yours?” Joey asked, proudly thumping his guy on the shoulder.
While Marcus smirked, energy coursed from the earth and up the four pillars, coalescing in the center as burst of green light. It shot down to the ground, the beam erratic and jumpy, expanding to about six feet at the widest point. Loose pieces of plants, rock, and dust were drawn inside the fissure and Marcus gazed at Joey lovingly.
“After you,” he said, pointing the way forward.
UPON ENTERING TÍR NA MBEO, Joey realized how warm it was, and how dry. Removing his raincoat, Marcus appeared and the bright light of the doorway disappearing right after.
“So this is the Land of the Living?” Joey asked, looking around the wood lined clearing. It didn’t look any different than a typical forest on Earth.
“It should be,” Marcus answered, placing the satchel back in his pocket before taking off the coat. Surveying the area himself, he became chagrined. “Someone should be here to meet us,” he stated. “We’re kind of up shit creek without a guide. Meriden’s camp is concealed by magic and even if it wasn’t, it’s not like I know this place like the back of my hand.”
“Who goes there?” came a gruff man’s voice from the shade of the trees.
Marcus and Joey spun in place looking for the source, arms at the ready to fight if need be.
“Just a couple of travelers,” Marcus replied. Until he was sure of who they were talking to he wasn’t about to be too chatty.
“Travelers eh? Who just happened to stumble upon the main entrance to the Otherworld?” he answered.
“Funny you put it like that,” Joey said, getting a sharp look from Marcus.
“What do you two gobshites take me for?” the man barked.
“Unsure what you mean,” Marcus replied, “since you have us at a loss.”
“Ah, good point,” was the reply, much friendlier in tone. Brennan appeared in front of them in a haze of sparkling gold.
Seeing the leprechaun, Marcus remained reserved, knowing how temperamental they could be. Joey, on the other hand, missed the memo completely.
“Oh wow, a leprechaun!” Joey said excitedly. “Finally, some cool shit!”
“What do you mean by that, fecker?” Brennan spat defensively.
“What?” Joey responded. “I… Nothing.”
Brennan put up his tiny fists. “Seems like you got a problem, mate,”
“No, not at all,” Joey countered. “Marcus, what’s wrong with the little guy?”
“Oh! Got jokes, do you?” Brennan snapped, growing red in the face. “You ain’t so tall yourself, eejit.”
Joey was just as irate now, face matching Brennan’s in color. “No!”
“Are you two finished yet?” Marcus interrupted, attempting to take back control of the situation. It seemed to work, Brennan calming down rather quickly.
Joey thought the little guy was a few cards short of a deck.
“So who are you both, really?” Brennan asked Marcus pointedly.
“You first,” Marcus challenged. “We’re still at a disadvantage knowing who you are.”
“Brennan’s the name,” he replied, “doorman to t
he Otherworld. Awfully busy this week it seems.”
“Brandon?” Joey said in amazement. “We know a Journeyman by that name; just met him on this trip, too.”
“It’s BREN-NAN,” the leprechaun replied ultra slowly, trying to subdue his accent somewhat.
Judging by Joey’s face, he was unsuccessful in making things sound better, Marcus smacking him lightly in the back of the head. “What do you think you’re doing?” he asked pointedly. “We barely know this guy and you’re already divulging secrets within five seconds!”
“Ye best listen to him, lad,” Brennan said. “Ol’ grizzly chops here knows what he’s talking about.”
Marcus was deadpan, the leprechaun quickly changing his tune.
“I mean, the beard is mighty fine, mate,” Brennan continued while he rubbed his own, but something told Marcus he probably didn't meant it. Brennan sought to change the subject. “So you two are Journeymen, eh? Here to follow up with your Councilor?”
Marcus’s expression became grave. “Fenran?” he asked smugly.
“One and the same,,” Brennan replied. “Arrogant fecker pranced his way through one of the backdoors over in the Land of the Young not a day ago.”
“Where is he now?” Marcus asked.
“Off in the capital, if he wasn't lying. Why?” Brennan grew suspicious. “Wanting to join him?”
“Far from it,” said Marcus, dismissively waving a hand to the side. “In fact, since Joey already took the liberty of revealing who we are, I can confirm that we’re here representing the Order, specifically to determine if anyone knows what Fenran is up to and if there is anything we can do to stop him.”
“Is that so?” Brennan queried; he seemed encouraged.
“Definitely,” Marcus said assertively. “I’d stake all of my honor on it. Do you know where the Princess Meriden is? She left some word with the Council after the Assembly ended that we should contact her for information.”
Brennan raised his hands as a signal to unseen eyes. “As a matter of fact, I do.”
Made to Suffer (Journeyman Book 3) Page 11