Specters: A Monster Squad Novel - 8

by Heath Stallcup

  Kalen gave her a slight nod. “I remember it. But she is different. She doesn’t feed on—”

  “She is what she is. If this continues, you will be forced to choose.” Her face grew larger as she came in closer to the stone and lowered her voice. “Just make sure that whatever you choose, you are certain.”

  *****

  Mick walked slowly around the familiar hangar. He could only see the two guards on duty at the outside shacks and they didn’t seem to pay him any attention as he walked past. The uniform and haircut went a long way toward hiding him in the crowd. He slipped into an office building that was opposite the hangar and noted that it sat empty. Whatever had occurred here in the past was long since discontinued.

  Working his way upstairs and finding a location that he felt comfortable keeping watch on the hangar, he made himself a small campsite. Nothing more than a few discarded sofa cushions and a barricade made from desks left behind by the previous occupants, he settled in for what he hoped would be a long and uneventful watch.

  He just wanted to make sure that Jen was okay. He needed to see her with his own eyes. He needed to know that she was indeed happy and not under some sort of spell cast by the Fates. He had tried on so many occasions to put himself in a wolf’s shoes. To be fated to one mate forever? He couldn’t wrap his mind around it. To be fated to somebody who tried to kill you? That just wasn’t right. The Fates were a bunch of messed up psychos in his book.

  He wished he had Walter Simmons’ phone. He could call him and tell him that the intel was bad, that Jen was still inside. He could let him know that he was forced to give them bad info and that his men were going to be set up. He could let him know that the man he intended to hunt down and kill would end up killing his daughter. He could tell him that it was too late.

  Mick tried to think how Simmons would react. He knew the man was twisted in the noodle. Could he be reached? Could anybody make him understand that his daughter’s life would be endangered no matter what he did? Would he care at this point? So much money had been spent and the attack was thwarted. How many of his wolves died in that attack? Where were the others at? Could Mick catch up with them before they tried anything?

  He sat and watched the hangar, knowing that if he had any chance of reaching Walter Simmons, it would be through his wolves when they came back to finish the job. Once they realized the intel was bad, they would return to the hangar to finish the job. If he could just intercept them first.

  *****

  Bigby shoved the weapons into his duffle bag and tossed it onto the bed. He pulled the night vision goggles and checked them then slipped them into the side pocket. A little late night recon wouldn’t hurt anything. Better to get a lay of the land before planning his attack. He didn’t really get a chance to study the hangar drawings much before it all went to hell last time and he wasn’t given a chance to recon much while under fire.

  He hefted the duffle up onto his shoulder and reached for the door when the phone in his pocket buzzed. He paused and dropped the duffel. He knew who it was before he ever pulled the sat phone and looked at the incoming number.

  Clicking the phone on, he heard Simmons’ voice, “Where’s Martinez? He isn’t answering.”

  “Your boy Martinez and his mates are all dead.” Big took a certain degree of satisfaction in saying those words.

  “What do you mean they’re all dead? What the hell happened?”

  “He wouldn’t listen to me and it got him dead. That’s what happened. The old boy said he had everything handled, and instead of bugging out when I told him to, he tried to make a stand and it cost him.” Bigby chuckled into the phone as he sat at the foot of the bed. “Actually, it cost you, didn’t it?”

  “What the hell am I paying you for if you can’t keep my men alive?” Simmons’ voice bellowed over the phone. Bigby had to hold it away from his ear as the old man screeched. “You’re supposed to be a professional.”

  “I am a professional, mate. I can’t help it if your boys don’t know how to take orders. Maybe next time you’ll send real soldiers instead of these puffed up Boy Scouts.”

  “I don’t have to take this from you. You work for me!”

  Bigby chuckled into the phone. “You think so, do ya? Well, not any more. I’m a free agent, mate. From now on, I’m doing things my way.”

  “What does that mean?” Fear crept into Simmons’ voice as he spoke to the deranged man.

  “Exactly what I said. I don’t need your wolves to act as cannon fodder. I can creep in, do what needs doing, and sneak back out before anyone’s the wiser.”

  “What are you planning, Major? What about my daughter?”

  “For cavorting with the enemy, she’s collateral damage as far as I’m concerned. If she’s in there, she’s a casualty of war.”

  “Now see here! I’ll not have you—”

  Bigby clicked the end call button and tossed the phone into his bag. “The old windbag doesn’t know who he’s dealing with. If those blokes were the best he had to offer, he’s no threat.” He picked up the bag and shut the door behind him.

  *****

  Samael stormed out the cabin and absently tossed the limp body through the door as he stood on the porch. His eyes scanned the woods surrounding the cabin but he couldn’t see Lilith anywhere. “Where could she have gotten to?”

  He stormed to the rear of the cabin and stared down the slope, hoping to see her trail in the dead pine needles. “Damn that woman and all that she stands for.” He stepped away from the rustic structure and took to the air, making slow circles outward from the cabin and hoping to find her or her trail.

  He let the wind carry him in a lazy arc, the rustling of his leathery wings flapping in the breeze as he dipped through the air currents to gain speed. He felt his jaw clenching as his eyes cut through the gloom of the trees, constantly searching for her lithe form as she apparently made her attempt at escaping the mountain to meet with her Legion.

  He fought the urge to call to her as he knew that there were hunters in the area. He doubted that their bullets could kill his physical form, but he had just been healed by Azazel, he didn’t need to add any more injuries to the body he had.

  Cursing to himself as he widened the arc once more, he thought he saw a figure cutting through the trees. He banked to the side and swooped low, his eyes piercing the gloom below. There! He caught a whisper of light blue darting between the trees. It had to be her gown. He rose into the air and found a break in the canopy. Folding his wings, he shot downward and landed with a thump just yards ahead of her. He rose to his full height and noticed the startled look on her face as she slid to a stop before him.

  “What do you think you are doing?” he growled.

  “Going to my Legion. I told you, they need their queen.” She pushed past him and tried to go around his huge form.

  Samael reached out and took her by the arm. “You need to regain your strength first.”

  “Once my Legion is reformed, I will rest.” She tried once more to go around him, and he scooped her up into his arms.

  “And I said, once your strength is regained, we will gather your Legion to you.” He leapt into the air and, with a beat of his wings, was airborne once more. He soared higher until he could spot the roof of the cabin then began a gentle glide toward the structure. “I found you a hunter to feed upon.”

  He placed her on the ground beside the front of the cabin and she punched at his massive chest. “You fool! I don’t need to eat to regain my strength.” She pushed away from him and stormed into the cabin. “I’ve got my old body back. I feed it through sex.”

  “And blood.” He lifted the prone body of the hunter and waved it in front of her. “I’m offering you both.”

  She glared at him and shook her head. “I’m not in the mood for either. I want my Legion! I want them now! We have work to do!”

  Samael dropped the hunter on the floor of the cabin and glared at her. “And what would you do with them once you have the
m. You’d start making plans to storm the human hunters to regain your lost devices. You can’t even think straight when you are weak, how do you intend to lead?”

  Her eyes narrowed on him as she stepped forward and grabbed the hunter by the arm. “Fine! First I’ll feed, but then you had better get my Legion to me.”

  He grabbed her by the shoulder and tugged her gown from her shoulders, exposing her breasts. “They’re already on their way.” He spun her around and bent her over the unmade bed and lifted her gown. “Now eat!”

  He watched as she bit into the hunter’s wrist and began sucking the lifeblood from his body. He grabbed her by the hips and took her from behind as she fed.

  *****

  Analyst Robert Stevens sucked the last of the coffee from the cup as he turned off the interstate and to the main gate at Tinker Air Force Base. He had a rough idea where the hunters based their operation, but he wasn’t completely sure where to go. He knew that asking at the front gate would just get him stared at as if he were crazy.

  The gate guard checked his ID and allowed him to pass. He maneuvered through the concrete barriers and drove slowly past the different buildings. He drove past the base exchange, the commissary, a few operational buildings, and began to make a slow circle through the base.

  This would take forever. Clandestine groups don’t hang a sign outside their workspace advertising that this is where they operate from. Well, except the CIA. They didn’t care who knew. Their main building was well advertised.

  Robert pulled the car over into a parking area and began sifting through his notes. He knew that there had to be something in the paperwork that would give him a clue to their location. He sorted through emails, phone records, purchase records…something would point him in the right direction.

  Wait…purchase records. He went back through the records and noted a peculiar purchase. He smiled to himself as recognition hit him. “I know where you are now.”

  He pulled the car out of the parking space and began looking at building numbers. He followed them through the base until he came to a dilapidated looking hangar on the southern end of the base.

  From the outside, it didn’t look like much. Yes, there were quite a few vehicles parked outside, so it was obviously still in use. There were two guard shacks; both manned. But what he saw parked by the main doors is what made him smile. “Bingo.”

  Robert pulled the Crown Vic into the gravel parking lot and stepped out. He stretched his tired body and went to the trunk. Popping it open, he retrieved the rest of his files and started toward the door. He only made it a few steps before he found himself staring down the barrel of a pistol. “State your purpose.”

  Robert froze in place and stammered as he stared at the man holding him at gunpoint. “M-my name is Robert Stevens. I’m an analyst with the Central Intelligence Agency.”

  The man holding the pistol cocked it and leaned slightly forward. “I said, state your purpose.”

  Robert swallowed hard and nodded. “I need to see your leader. I mean, uh…Colonel Mitchell, right? I need to see him. I have information that he needs to know. It’s life or death.” Robert knew that the color had drained from his face. He felt it happen.

  The guard stepped back and spoke into a radio. A moment later he holstered his weapon and two other men appeared from nowhere. He was handcuffed and his papers were taken and sifted through in the parking lot before he was escorted into the lion’s den.

  8

  “Wait out here and observe. Don’t think for a moment that we’re done discussing your… ‘problem’.” Mitchell stared at the slight framed man through the two way mirror. “If you get a read from his body language that I miss, key the two-way.”

  “Roger dodger, mi capitain.” Tufo gave a mock salute as Mitchell pushed the door open and walked behind the man cuffed to the interrogation table.

  “Mr. Stevens, I’m having difficulty verifying your credentials. Care to enlighten me on why that might be?” He slapped the folder down on the table for effect.

  “Colonel, I work for a branch of the Central Intelligence Agency that…” He glanced over his shoulder then lowered his voice. “Sir, they’re targeting your people.”

  Mitchell sat down and crossed his arms, his face stoic. “Why on earth would an intelligence agency attempt to target a little black operation like us. We fly under the radar, Mr. Stevens.”

  Robert lowered his face and cleared his throat. “Because, Colonel, they know what you are. Rather, what your men are.” He raised his eyes to meet the man’s gaze. “They discovered that monsters were real and they stumbled upon your operation here. They’ve sworn to eradicate all monsters. Including those who work for the United States, defending her interests.”

  Mitchell’s face remained stoic. “Assuming that anything you say is true, we’ve dealt with threats before.”

  Stevens began to shake, his head nearly convulsing. “Not like this, sir. I’m talking about super soldiers. They have battle uniforms specially made to combat nearly any threat conceivable. They—”

  “They’re still human. Humans bleed, Stevens.”

  “Look at the notes I brought you, Colonel. Their battle uniforms are made to repel most small arms fire. If they’re punctured, they’re self-sealing with clotting foam dispensers built in. They have pneumatic rings built into the limbs that can be activated to act as a tourniquet if need be. They’ve brainwashed these men until they simply will not stop until the mission is completed!”

  Mitchell leaned back and thumbed through the stacks of folders taken off the man when he was detained. He pulled diagrams and schematics of technology that only Doc could understand. “Let’s play devil’s advocate for a moment and assume that what you’re saying is true.”

  “It is true, Colonel. Every word. I came here to warn you.”

  Mitchell held up a hand to stop him. “Let’s assume that you’re telling the truth. How did you find us? We’re off the grid.”

  Stevens shook his head again. “Your telecommunications aren’t. For the most part, they’re still land lines. And the internet you do use? You use a standard military algorithm to mask it. Any high school hacker could defeat it.” Stevens smiled impishly. “I actually used your procurement records to locate the physical location of your operation here.”

  “Procurement records?”

  “You recently purchased three black Ford Raptors as rapid response vehicles?”

  Mitchell turned his head slowly toward the mirror and glared at where he assumed Tufo would be. “Yes, we did.” He turned back to Stevens. “And you used that purchase record to locate us?”

  “Yes, sir. It was actually pretty easy.”

  “And that’s how your people located us also?”

  Stevens shook his head. “No, sir. I don’t know how they got wind of you. I swear. I was called in by the director of the agency and ordered to intercept any and all communications, gather all intel that I could, in essence, build a dossier on your people. It was when he accused me of being incomplete in my data mining for not digging through other agencies information that I stumbled upon the Titans and Project Gladiator.”

  Mitchell nodded. “Tell me about this Project Gladiator.”

  “Sure. What do you want to know?”

  “Everything.”

  *****

  Viktor stepped from the private jet and walked to the limousine waiting for him. The driver opened the door and he stepped inside. Sitting in the rear of the car he smiled to his old friend, Cardinal Sardelli. “Thank you for meeting me on such short notice.”

  “Do you any idea how difficult it is for me to get away from the city these days?” The cardinal offered his hand, and Viktor quickly kissed his ring.

  “I apologize, my friend, but this is of most importance.”

  “You said life and death.” The Cardinal sat back in the limo and eyed Viktor suspiciously.

  “It very well could be.” Viktor stared out the window as the ground crew prepared to fu
el the jet for the return trip. “You have heard the stories of Lilith, yes?”

  “Wives tales. Stories told by ancient Jews to keep children in line, that is all.”

  “No, my friend. She is very real, and she has reared her ugly head once more.” Viktor shifted in his seat and gave the cardinal his full attention. “What I am about to tell you will be difficult to believe, but what you do with the information…”

  Cardinal Sardelli reached forward and took Viktor by the hand. “I am listening Viktor. I listened when you told me of the Sicarii, did I not?”

  Viktor took a deep breath and began his tale. He told of the history of Lilith and her resurrection. He told of their attempt at stopping her and her escape. He was hesitant to mention the winged demon looking angel who spirited her away, but he felt that his friend should know everything. Then he broke the news of her plans to attack the Roman Catholic Church. As many as she could at once…and the suicide bombers. When he finished his tale, he studied his friend’s face. “What can the church do to help us thwart her plans?”

  Cardinal Sardelli shook his head. “What can we do? It sounds totally implausible. Thousands of suicide bombers, striking all at once? How could she have that much sway over people?”

  “No, my friend, the bombers are demons. They have stolen the bodies of humans. As each blast destroys the host, the demon is free to take another.”

  Sardelli rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “I cannot fathom such an attack. We cannot possibly order the churches closed. They do too much in the communities. People depend on the works and the charity of the church.”

  “Is there nothing they can do? Even for a short time? If we can determine her timeline and can notify you first, can you order the churches emptied?”

  Sardelli shook his head. “That is not for me to say. I will notify my superiors, and it will have to be taken to a much higher authority.”

  Viktor groaned as he leaned back in the supple leather seat. “The pope will not believe that the Demon Queen Lilith has returned.”