The Junkyard Druid Box Set 2
Page 40
Speaking of Jesse—now there was a confusing situation. She was my first love, my greatest tragedy, and someone I never thought I’d see in the flesh again. Jesse had changed as well since coming back in this new, eldritch form of hers. In my opinion, those changes were not necessarily for the better.
For that reason, I wondered if it was Jesse’s presence that was influencing me, or something else. Was she exerting some magical control over me, driving a wedge between Belladonna and me? Or was there another presence at work that had yet to reveal itself, maybe something related to the case I was working on?
I chewed my thumbnail and allowed those thoughts to tumble through my head as I drove. I still had a bit of Fionn MacCumhaill’s magical wisdom, a gift passed down to me through many generations. According to Finnegas, my gift of insight was much weaker than Fionn’s had been, yet it had helped me see things more clearly in times past. A bit of focused rumination, enough to trigger the magic, was often all it took to get a new perspective on whatever problems I might be facing.
Suddenly, I realized I couldn’t access my gift of insight. For the first time in my life, I felt cut off from that part of my magic. Either the changes within me had fundamentally affected my ability to access that talent, or some outside force was preventing me from seeing things clearly.
I should’ve been frightened, but I wasn’t—and that bothered me most of all.
My phone began to buzz in my pocket, so I pulled over in a grocery store parking lot to check my messages. There was nothing from Belladonna—no surprise there—but I did have something from my Circle liaison.
Meet me at the warehouse. I have urgent news regarding your case.
Of all the people I didn’t want to deal with right now, McCracken was tops on that list. But Derp was still missing, I had a were-spider serial killer on the loose, and I was dealing with some serious mental health issues. The possibility it might all be connected weighed heavily on my mind.
I messaged him back. stNd by. Headed ther nw. I peeled out of the parking lot, pushing the speed limit as I headed to the warehouse where Keane and his men had held me. Hopefully, those assholes would be off duty when I arrived.
The gate to the fenced-in back lot was open when I got there, so I drove in and parked my car next to McCracken’s four-wheel-drive pickup. Besides the security lights at the front and side entrance of the building, the place was dark and quiet. The building was located in an industrial area, and it was zero-dark-thirty in the morning, so that was no surprise. Still, something made the hairs on my neck stand up as I approached the entrance.
The door was slightly ajar, and beyond all I saw was darkness. Not wanting to enter the place blind, I cast a cantrip to enhance my senses. That’s when I smelled the iron tang of fresh human blood.
Shit.
I drew my Glock and pushed the door open, pivoting behind the wall next to the door in case I drew fire from an ambush. Besides the squeak of the hinges, it was dead silent.
“McCracken,” I whispered. “You in there?”
Nothing. I pulled out a tactical flashlight and headed in, flipping it on and using a minor spell to intensify the beam. I played the light across the area, searching for signs of blood—or dead bodies. The garage area of the warehouse was empty, save for a white panel van that said “ATX Power Washing” on the side. I hugged the wall as I headed for the hall that led to the offices.
As I snuck down the corridor the smell of blood became more intense, leading me to the very room where Keane’s men had held me captive. Again, the door stood slightly ajar, so I pushed it open and hid behind the wall once more. When no shots rang out in the night, I peeked around the corner and into the room, shining my light so I could sight in on anything that might be waiting to take me out.
No one was there—at least, not anyone living. In the center of the room, McCracken’s corpse had been tied to a chair, in the exact manner I’d been restrained by Keane’s crew. His head sat in his lap, staring at me accusingly, and behind him a message had been painted in his blood, still fresh and wet on the stark white walls.
The message and its intent were crystal clear.
“ThiS is WhAt hApPens WheN yOu Fuk wiTh tHe DruiDs!”
The lights came on all at once, and before I heard the sound of booted feet entering the building, I already knew—I’d been set up.
16
Cursing my stupidity for walking into a trap for the third time this week, I slammed the door to the room, locking it and wedging a metal chair under the handle. As an afterthought, I threw a ward on it for good measure. Knowing exactly what was coming didn’t make me any less nervous about it. Eventually, Keane and his team would burst through that door, likely breaching it with explosives and magic. That would be followed by flashbang grenades and a flurry of spells designed to put me down, leaving me injured but alive.
I was about to get fucked, lube optional.
The reasons for the setup were painfully obvious; someone on the Circle’s High Council was pissed that I’d outed and killed their pet sociopath, Gunnarson. Not only that, but Finnegas and Maeve had embarrassed the Circle when they’d schooled them at the Conclave. Shoving my appointment to druid justiciar down their throats had just been the piss garnish on what must have been a very hard-to-swallow shit sandwich.
That’s why Keane and his team hadn’t respected McCracken, and it was why they’d disobeyed orders and taken me down dirty instead of simply delivering his message. They needed a back story, a reason why I might go ballistic and kill a ranking officer of The Circle. And, they knew their boss—their real boss, not McCracken—wouldn’t give two shits from a rat’s ass whether they roughed me up or not. Hell, whoever was running Keane’s team probably told them to be as brutal as possible, to give me that much more motive.
I looked at McCracken’s lifeless body, tied up in the same chair I’d been restrained in a few days prior. He’d been beaten badly, possibly tortured, and his head had been hacked off the hard way—that much was apparent from the blood spray on the walls. I’d a taken a few heads that way myself, with a long, sharp knife and a lot of sawing. It wasn’t easy on the person being beheaded, or their executioner—at least, not unless the one doing the cutting was a heartless killer.
Keane.
Regardless of his affiliations, the lieutenant had seemed like a good guy. He’d damned sure didn’t deserve to go down like that, betrayed, beaten, and murdered by his own people. And for what? They’d sacrificed him for a silly vendetta that had everything to do with greed for power and nothing to do with honor and justice.
I had maybe a minute before Keane and his thugs came busting through the door like the Wild Hunt to take me down, guns and spells blazing. Then they’d parade me in front of the entire supernatural community to discredit Finnegas and Maeve. The old man would come after me, but they probably knew he was weakening in his old age. Even worse, he’d likely be alone. After the way I’d done her, Maeve wouldn’t piss on me if I was on fire, and neither Luther nor Samson could afford an all-out war with the Circle, friendships and Pack ties be damned.
Finnegas would go down, I’d be executed, the druids would die out for good, and it would be all my fault for being the dumbass who hadn’t seen this coming.
I guess I’d better not allow myself to be captured, eh?
Nope, getting captured was not an option. However, Keane and his team were pros, they had me outnumbered, and they’d taken me out once before when they’d had the drop on me. Hopefully that would work in my favor, because chances were good they’d come at me cocky and stupid, waving their dicks around like the pecker-measurers they were.
Lucky for them, I wasn’t willing to shift again—not after what had happened with the cop on Mei’s roof. Uh-uh, not an option. Sure, I could let my Hyde-side out and cut through these jokers like a hot knife through butter, but I was afraid I might not be able to put the genie back in the bottle. That meant I’d have to fuck them up the old-fashioned way.
I rummaged in my Bag, grabbing my war club and some paracord. The club I tucked through my belt, and the cord I tied off between a table and a vertical pipe at shin level close to the door, but not right in front of it. I taped a magically-enhanced M-80 on a spell trigger under another table in the corner farthest from the door. Then, I located one of the fire suppression nozzles in the drop ceiling above and grabbed a fire extinguisher off the wall. I shot the nozzle, setting off the sprinkler system, then shot out the lights in the room.
And waited.
Less than a minute later, I felt the rising pressure of an impending concussive spell, one that had enough energy to blow the door right off the hinges and shred my hasty ward. I took a deep breath and sprayed the extinguisher all around the room until it was filled with white fog. Then I plugged my ears with my fingers and squatted in a corner, eyes closed, waiting for what was to come.
There was a loud boom, followed by a crash and an overpressure wave that rocked me up against the wall. Instead of jumping into action like a noob, I kept my ears plugged and shielded my eyes with my palms, waiting. Seconds later, two smaller concussive blasts followed, accompanied by intense flashes of light.
Time to move.
“Go, go, go!” I heard Keane yell somewhere in the smoke and darkness.
Keane’s team were framed in the doorway when I opened my eyes. Perfect. I fired on the move, hitting at least two of them as they entered the room. Since they were likely wearing body armor, I aimed for the head, causing three to duck while another dropped to the floor, yelling he’d been hit. The rest of Keane’s team returned fire, but I was already out of the way in the near corner, behind them and to their left.
“Somebody do something about this fog!” Keane yelled. “Cullen! How bad is it?”
“I’ll live,” Cullen replied.
Keane grunted. “Then post up on this door and make sure that motherfucker doesn’t make it out in a vertical position.”
“On it,” Cullen groaned.
I tossed a coin across the room, into the far corner. It was still foggy as shit and I couldn’t see three feet in front of my face, so I knew they couldn’t either. Gunfire and lightning spells pelted that side of the room in response to the noise.
“Cease fire, cease fucking fire!” Keane yelled. “Command wants this fucker alive, you clowndicks! Smithson, Crandall—go see what we hit.”
The two operatives marched forward, tripping over the paracord I’d rigged.
“Fuck!” one yelled as he took a header, his partner falling on top of him. I plugged my ears again and triggered the M-80 right in their faces, deafening everyone in the room but me.
Then, I drew my war club and charged Keane and Cullen.
Three bounding steps and I was on top of Keane. I popped out of the fog like a ghost in the darkness, smiling at the “oh shit” look on his face that said he hadn’t thought I’d get the drop on him. I swung for the fences, timing my shot as I stepped into the attack. The club caught Keane right in the middle of his chest as he pivoted to face me.
Home. Run.
My war club packed a serious magical punch against the fae. However, I’d never used it on a human before, so I was unsure if it would work the same. It did. When the war club made contact with Keane’s body armor, it took him off his feet. For a split-second, the rest of his body folded around the impact zone, then he flew across the room, ragdoll style.
He might live, since the trauma plate in his body armor took the brunt of the blow. Still, I’d bet dimes to doughnuts he ended up with a cracked sternum or a few fractured ribs. If he survived, the Circle medics would patch him up with magic, good as new. But for now, he was down for the count.
While I might have surprised Keane, Cullen had actually been ready for me. He was leaning against the wall beside the door, muttering a spell he’d spun up, keeping it on standby in case I gave away my position. But I had my own surprise waiting, a simple little druid spell that was a lot easier to cast than his elemental wizardry.
The sprinklers had soaked everything in the room, including Cullen and the rest of his team. Before he could release his spell, I spoke a single word in Gaelic.
“Reo.”
Instantly, the air around Cullen dropped to better than minus forty, instantly freezing the water soaking his clothing and gear. Because water was such an excellent heat conductor, the sudden drop in temperature sucked all the warmth from his body, sending him into immediate hypothermia.
I watched as Cullen stood there trying to trigger his spell with his teeth all a-chatter. It was damned hard to cast a spell with a verbal command when you were uncontrollably shivering. I cracked him across the jaw with the handle end of the club, grinning wickedly as he dropped like a sack of rocks.
Two down, two to go.
I casually strolled into the center of the room, twirling the club like a marching baton as I closed in on the other two team members. The blast from the M-80 had disoriented them, plus they’d gotten a face full of table shrapnel in the blast. I gave them both light taps on the base of the skull—not hard enough to kill, but enough to cut their strings.
The fire extinguisher fog was starting to settle, so I glanced around the room at my handiwork. Three of the team were out like Christmas lights in January, and Keane was rolling around on the floor groaning a few feet away.
I should finish him off.
The thought came from nowhere, and I honestly couldn’t tell whether it was mine or broadcasted into my mind from some external source. However, the urge to kill Keane sure felt real.
I can just snap his neck. A twist and pop, and there’s one less Circle operative hunting me.
I wanted to do it, that was a fact. It’s not like I hadn’t killed humans before, especially when they were trying to capture or kill me. But I couldn’t really be sure if it was me who’d be doing the killing, or that other side of me poking his ugly head up. And because I wasn’t certain whose instincts were urging me to further violence, I fought down that desire with every last bit of willpower I had.
Walking toward the door was the hardest thing I’d ever done.
“This… isn’t over, druid,” Keane croaked from the corner. “This frame up—we filmed everything and took pictures before you got here. Within the hour, every major player in the world beneath will think you took out McCracken and broke the peace accord. And then it’ll be open season on druids.”
I opened my arms wide, sweeping them around the room. “And how do you think that’ll work out?”
He laughed, causing himself a brief coughing fit. Keane recovered, wiping a bit of bloody spittle from his lip. “You just don’t get it, do you? The old man played right into my boss’ hands by appointing you to police the factions. You’ve been stepping on toes since you got here, you little shit, and you have more enemies than you realize. Once the Circle puts a bounty on your head, you’ll have nowhere to run. You can’t fight the entire city, McCool, not on your own—and you don’t have enough allies to give you a fighting chance.”
Cullen stirred next to the door, so I kicked him in the jaw hard enough to keep him down. “Maybe not, Keane. And maybe I will go down. But a cornered rat will go for the throat when it realizes it has nothing to lose.” I pointed my club at him. “You tell your boss I’m coming. And as far as I’m concerned, no one is above justice.”
I turned and walked out the door, watching for another ambush as I headed for the exit. Keane’s laughter echoed after me in the dark.
“Oh, believe me, druid—they’re counting on it.”
Keane and his goons had slashed the tires on the Gremlin, so it looked like I was going to be hoofing it. The junkyard was all the way across town, and that was going to be one hell of a long walk. I could find safe haven there, tucked away behind my wards or perhaps hiding for a time inside the druid grove.
In light of the safety the junkyard would provide,
I knew that going underground could place others in jeopardy. If the Cold Iron Circle couldn’t get to you, they’d put pressure on the people you cared for most. Abduction, torture, murder—nothing was off the table for these jokers.
And that was just the Circle. I had every reason to believe Keane was dead serious about putting out a bounty on my head. That meant I’d have every two-bit fae, hedge wizard, rogue vampire, and renegade ’thrope on my tail—not to mention any monster hunting outfit who thought they could make their bones by bringing me in or taking me down.
It wouldn’t be long until I was considered public enemy number one among Austin’s supernatural community. Luther and Samson would try to keep the heat off me on their end, but there were always members of their kind who didn’t abide by the rules. And I doubted I could count on Maeve to announce a mandate telling her people to stay out of it.
That left Finnegas and Maureen, and a handful of others I might count on in a crisis. Bells was out; I knew she’d help if I asked, but I was too proud to have her bail me out twice. Hemi was still convalescing in his home country, or so I’d heard. The trolls might help. Although they technically worked for Maeve, they considered themselves to be an independent entity. But I really didn’t want to place them in danger, not after getting so many of their young warriors killed during the battle of the graveyard.
For now, I’d have to make do on my own. My first priority was getting off the streets and out of sight until I could find some transportation. Then, I’d track down Mei. She was connected to the Circle somehow, and I intended to discover how. If I got lucky, she’d lead me straight back to the ringleader on the Council, the person pulling everyone’s strings.