by Andrew Dudek
Dull sunlight reflected off the blade of the redneck’s knife and the blue jewel in the handle.
Hey, wait a minute.
I recognized that knife. It was mine.
I snarled and lunged. He slashed at me twice, each time drawing blood but doing no lasting damage. I caught his wrist on the third strike and twisted. There was a crack and he yelped in pain. My knife fell out of his hand. I punched him in the throat.
The mercenary dropped to the ground, whimpering in pain.
The cabin was as tiny as I’d thought—more of a shack, really. It was in the midst of a small clearing. The trees all around, though, were giants, huge and sprawling. Their branches reached into the sky, resplendent in their summer greenery. I didn’t recognize. them, but I guessed we were somewhere upstate.
“You broke my wrist,” the merc said.
“Yeah. I put my boot on the hollow of his throat. “Where are we?”
“I ain’t s’posed to kill you,” he said, his Southern accent deepening. “But the boss-lady said she’d understand if you caused any trouble. Whatcha think? This count as trouble?”
I stepped down harder. It’d be so easy to add a little pressure and end this son of a bitch once and for all. I wanted to. I really did. “You’re not the one in power here,” I said instead.
That’s when he rolled. My boot slipped and he managed to get the fingers of his good hand under the toes. He shoved as hard as he could, and it was just enough to knock me off balance for a moment. He leapt to his feet, hit me in the face with his good hand. I went down and rolled, but this guy was good. He stayed with me and put his own boot on my throat.
“You were saying?”
I spat at his face, but I missed and the loogie landed on my own ear.
The mercenary laughed. “I’ve been doing this job for a while. Killed a lotta folks, but I never enjoyed it. I think I’m gonna enjoy doing you.”
I closed my eyes and waited for the end. If I’d been a betting man, this would not have been the way I’d wagered I’d go out. Tortured to death on a bed of dry leaves and pine needles by a mercenary with Ted Nugent’s fashion sense. Man, that really sucked.
My eyes snapped open, though, as a noise split the air of the summer evening, silencing the chirping of a nearby birds:
A long, angry howl.
Chapter 26
A pair of wolves stood at the edge of the clearing, their yellow eyes fixed on the merc’s throat. Their big teeth dripped with drool. The larger one was built like a bear—all solid muscle and thick fur. Its coat was mostly brown, so dark it was almost black, with gray stripes. Its tail flicked back and forth a couple of times, and it lowered its head and growled.
The mercenary dropped the knife, staring at the slavering jaws, though his boot was still on my throat.
The striped wolf barked and snapped its jaws. It padded into the clearing, ears plastered to its skull. After a moment, the smaller one followed, as if it questioned its abilities to intimidate. I didn’t know why: from where I was lying, he was plenty scary.
The merc and the wolf were locked in a staring contest. Occasionally the man would flick his eyes down to me, as if assuring himself I hadn’t escaped.
“Pst,” I stage-whispered. “What are you gonna do?”
“Shut up.” In a louder voice, he drawled, “I always wanted to bag me a werewolf. You fellas best move on if you don’t wanna end up a coupl’a stories I tell at titty bars.”
The big wolf snarled and stepped forward. The mercenary flinched.
“What’s the matter?” I asked. “I figured a big bad hunter like you must’ve seen your share of big bad wolves.” I waved—awkwardly, since I was still pinned by the hunter’s boot—to the smaller were. “Hey, Harrison. That’s you, right?"
The wolf tossed his head and wagged his tail. For a moment he looked more like a Labrador at a family picnic than a creature from humanity’s collective nightmares. Honestly. He was a good kid, but I was beginning to suspect that Harrison Edwards had no idea how to put the fear of wolf into someone.
Fortunately, his larger pack-mate had no such problem. Once upon a time, wolves were the scariest predators known to man, at least in Europe. They were fast, strong, and smart. Animals that could work together to kill a flock of sheep, and if they were particularly hungry, the shepherd, too, were tunic-crappingly terrifying to our medieval ancestors. The Brothers Grimm knew their audience and they knew there were few things more frightening than a hungry wolf.
I could see why. The wolf radiated power. It flowed out of him like water from a tap, and as it padded slowly forward, I could see the ease with which it moved. The nails on its paws were sharp, and they dug little furrows into the soil. Its tail swished from side to side. Lips drawn back, it let out a low, rumbling growl.
And then it pounced, a sudden blur of black across the ground. Those giant paws slammed into the merc’s shoulder and man and beast went to the ground. Fangs flashed and the mercenary screamed.
“Wait!” I shouted. The big wolf froze. Its jaws were locked around the mercenary’s throat, but it rolled one eye to look at me. “Paul, right?” I said.
He wagged his tail once, which I took to be an affirmative.
I stepped forward. “Don’t kill him,” I said.
“What’s the matter?” the mercenary demanded. “Scared to kill somebody layin' on his back?”
I picked up a downed branch. Three feet long, six inches thick. Had some ass to it, good weight. “Not exactly,” I said. Then I slammed the branch into the back of his head. He slumped in a heap. “That was for pistol-whipping me,” I said and tossed the tree limp away. “Thanks, guys. I owe you one. Where are we?”
Paul nodded, a really odd expression for a wolf, and he changed. Fur shrank away, fangs retreated into his gums, eyeballs darkened, claws vanished. Most disturbingly, though, were the grinding noises his bones made as they twisted and bent into a human skeleton. In a matter of moments, a naked, hairy man stood before me.
“Goddamn,” I said. “Doesn’t that hurt?”
He shook his head. His hair was six inches longer than it had been when I’d last seen him and his chin was covered with a thick beard. They were the same mixture of dark brown and gray as the wolf’s fur had been. “Most natural feeling in the world. We’re in the Catskills.”
About a hundred miles northwest of the city. Too far to beat April back to Dallas’s store, especially if she could use Cerberus’ Otherside power to move faster, so I needed another way to warn them.
“Either of you boys have a cellphone?”
Paul slapped his hairy, naked thighs. “Where would we keep one?”
Harrison, still a wolf, nudged the unconscious mercenary with his snout. I reached into the pocket of his fatigues and found my phone. I flipped it open and called the office. Madison answered on the second ring.
“Kill ‘Em Dead pest control. How can I help you?”
“Madison, it’s Dave,” I said. “Amy’s in danger. You need to call Dallas and tell him that April knows where she is. She’s on her way to the Hat with Cerberus.”
“Dave! Are you alright?”
“I’m fine. Did you hear what I just said? Hang up on me, right now, and call Dallas.”
“Got it. Should I call you when I know something.”
I hesitated. I was a good two-hour drive out. On top of that, I had no idea how deep in the woods I was. I could have been looking at a three-hour hike. If I couldn’t actually be there to help, I could at least coordinate the efforts.
“Yeah, I’d appreciate that, Mad. Now go!”
I hung up and looked at Paul. “I need to get back to the city. As quickly as possible.
The werewolf nodded and changed again, this time even faster, back into a wolf. He bolted off into woods and stopped, looked over his shoulder, and flicked his tail impatiently. Harrison followed dutifully.
“What’s that, Lassie?” I murmured. “Timmy fell into the hellhound’s lair again?” Paul bar
ked once and ran off into the trees. Cursing under my breath, I broke into a sprint to keep up.
The wolves led me on a merry chase through what felt like miles of forest before we burst onto a hiking trail. From there I was able to move faster, less concerned about the tripping over a boulder or impaling myself on a low-hanging, sharp branch. We ran for what felt like many more miles. My lungs burned. My legs ached.
By the time I emerged into a little clearing near the trailhead, I felt like I was gonna die. Man, I needed to get more cardio. A magenta Jeep Wrangler was parked there. Both werewolves had changed back into human form and were wearing baggy sweatpants, T-shirts and no shoes. Harrison hugged me quickly, then we all piled into the truck.
Paul drove like a madman, whipping through the trees, speeding past pines with the reckless abandon of a wolf cutting loose. He scraped his paint job up good and almost turned the Jeep into a tin can a couple of times before he finally took us out of the trees onto a long, winding road. Soon enough we came to a highway. The Jeep swerved around a slow eighteen-wheeler, and we were off for the city.
To pass the time—and to keep my mind off the possibility that my friends were dead or dying—I made conversation with Paul and Harrison. One of the tricks that the elder werewolf had wanted to teach Harrison was that he needed to let out the wolfish urges occasionally. The best way to do that was a run in the woods, maybe kill a stag.
“Though,” Paul added with a faint smile, “he’s nowhere near ready for that. The Catskills are good. It’s still hot in the summer—this year, especially—but it seems like the humidity isn’t as bad in the mountains.”
They’d been miles away when a stray breeze had brought my scent to them. Harrison had recognized the smell, and the two of them had come to investigate.
I ran my fingers through my hair and tried not to think about Amy. When I closed my eyes I saw her as she’d been the night before: smiling and laughing and naked. But lurking at the periphery of the vision were the fiery eyes of Cerberus. I didn’t have much time, I knew that. Probably, it was already too late. It did no good to dwell on that possibility, but I couldn’t help it. I’d let down too many people in my life. The last five months, especially had been one long, monumental letdown of impotence. Amy would just be the latest casualty.
My hand ached for my sword. I knew the blade's magic wouldn’t be anywhere approaching full-power, but I wanted it. It makes it sound like the sword was some kind of security blanket—and maybe there’s some truth to that—but I wanted to feel the power in my hand. If nothing else, it probably would have made me feel better.
Chapter 27
Once again, there was a crowd gathered on 49th Street. The Seven-Eleven was a burned-out husk, the air around it still smelling of smoke, but the pedestrians and drivers who were looking on were entranced by something different: the Rabbit’s Hat.
The door was scorched and blackened. The glass window in front of Dallas’s shop had been smashed into millions of glittering pieces which covered the sidewalk and, from what I could see, the inside of the store. There were a few partially burned books on the ground among the glass, and a thick haze of magenta smoke was hovering in the air.
I forced my way through the throngs of people, ignoring dirty looks and harsh comments. No one I knew was visible—just firefighters and befuddled cops.
The interior of the store was in decent shape. The door was busted, obviously, and the air inside was even hotter and more oppressive. Most of Dallas’s stock was intact, with the exceptions of some of the items that had been on shelves in the middle of the floor. These items, including vials of powder and jars of some kind of ointment, were what were causing the strange colored smoke to rise into the sky.
A heavyset guy in a lightweight suit noticed me and sauntered over, but I ducked out of the store and lost myself in the crowd before he could reach me. I heard the man—probably a plain-clothes detective—calling after me, but I ignored him and disappeared.
Paul drove us to the office. He looked hesitant about going inside with us (I couldn’t blame him for that—the Table’s attitude towards werewolves is lukewarm, at best), so he and Harrison waited outside while I went in to find out what had happened.
Madison was at her desk, but the chair was facing away from the door so she could look at the others. Rob and Earl were sitting in chairs, both nursing burns. The older knight, I noticed, had his left hand wrapped in a large bandage. Dallas and Krissy were on the other side of the building, both looking dirty and especially tired.
“Hey, guys,” I said.
Dallas looked up. Krissy climbed to her feet, barreled through the bullpen, and threw her arms around my neck. “Dave, I’m so sorry. They took her. I screwed up.”
I patted her back awkwardly. “Hey, hey. It’s not your fault.”
Earl stood up. There was a large gash on the side of his head, and the shoulder of his white T-shirt was stained scarlet. “When you told Madison what has happening, I decided that Krissy and I better get out to the Hat, sir,” he said. “April and Cerberus arrived before we did. April pinned down Dallas with some kind of spell—”
“It was a standard Dargenweiss Binder,” Dallas added. “I should have seen it coming. Locked me right up. It’ll be months before I can move properly.”
Earl nodded and continued “—and the hellhound attacked Rob.”
“I lost a finger,” Rob added helpfully and waved his bandaged hand in my direction. “How you doing, boss?”
I closed my eyes. Jesus.
Krissy whispered, “April came out of the store. She had that Leash thing wrapped around Amy and she was dragging her behind her. Earl tried to stop her, but she just…” She made a flicking motion with her fingers like she was trying to kick a paper football. “…and Earl went flying.”
“Hit my head on a stop sign,” Earl said. “It looks worse than it is, sir. Head wounds are bleeders.”
Krissy closed her eyes. “I drew my gun, and I shot at April. I missed. And then Cerberus came out of the store and there was this, like, whirlwind of fire, and they were all gone. All of them, and I could have stopped her if I’d fired sooner.”
I shook my head. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“Yes it was, I waited too long because I was scared, and now—”
“Page Thomas,” I snapped in my captain voice. “It was not your fault, and we do not have time to play the blame game. As of, what, an hour and a half ago, Amy was alive, right? We need to assume that she still is. And even…even if she isn’t, we need to send Cerberus back where it belongs, or we’ll be looking at a seriously unstable autumn. We’re talking really powerful, angry ghosts and uncontrollable zombies. Cerberus is the priority. You with me?”
Krissy sniffled, then forced a laugh, wiped her nose, and nodded. Dallas snorted. Earl and Rob stood up and strapped their swords on.
“Give me a minute with my team, Dallas?” I said. “Harrison’s in the parking lot with Paul Ellis.”
The wizard nodded, heaved his bulk out of the chair, and left the office.
When the five of us were alone, I looked around. “You guys have given me a lot today. I can’t ask any more of you. I have Dallas and the two werewolves for backup, and if you don’t want to help, that’ll have to be enough.”
“Are you saying you don’t want us to come?” Krissy asked.
“No,” I said. “What I’m saying is, you guys have been beaten and bruised. If any of you wants to sit this one out, I won’t hold it against you. I mean, hell, Rob, you lost a finger.”
“It was the pinky,” Rob said, a lopsided grin on his face. “I wasn’t really using it anyway.”
Earl swallowed hard. “I think I speak for all of us, sir, when I say we’re in.”
Rob’s grin widened. Krissy nodded. Even Madison said, “Yeah, I’m in, too.”
“Okay. As long as everyone understand that this is gonna be dangerous. I’m glad to have you guys along.”
And with that, the Knights of t
he Round Table marched off to battle.
Dallas was waiting in the parking lot with the wolves. Harrison looked more relaxed than I’d ever seen him, his eyes still and his hands steady. Paul, meanwhile, took a few steps backwards when he saw us emerge from the office. Rob and Earl were each wearing their swords. Mine was still not ready for action, but I’d strapped May’s old sword across my waist. The rapier-thin blade was a poor substitute—the gem that gave it most of its power was three thousand miles away—but it would do in a pinch. Besides, I liked the idea of going into battle with April using her sister’s sword.
My mind raced. I had no idea where Amy was being held or how to get to her. I was a killer, an assassin, a soldier, a warrior. Not a detective.
“What happened to you, anyway, Carver?” Dallas asked. “They said you were on your way to some super-secret anti-demon conference and then you were just gone.”
“Long story,” I said. “The upshot is I had a pleasant conversation with April.”
Dallas snorted. “Forgive me if it’s hard to imagine a pleasant conversation involving that witch. What’d you talk about?”
“Bunch’a stuff. The nature of power, whether the ends justify the means, what it takes to summon and control a demon like Cerberus…”
“Carver?” Dallas said. He was frowning at me, confused as if my head had just been transformed into a large carp. “You okay, man?”
I didn’t answer, just turned to look at Paul. “Mr. Ellis, you’ve done a lot for the Round Table today already, so I don’t if I can ask for more help…”
The werewolf looked nervous. He glanced at Harrison, who shrugged, then turned back to me, scratching at his bearded face. “I get the sense that this is kind of a big deal. Am I wrong?”
“Not quite ‘end of the world’ big,” I said. “But if we don’t stop this demon, it could head in that direction.”