The Junkyard Druid Box Set 2

by M. D. Massey

  “What’s your take, Crowley?”

  He knelt next to an ash pile, sifting it with his hands and rubbing a bit between his fingers as he took a sniff. “It’s the Dark Druid, I’m certain of it. I’d recognize the stink of his magic anywhere.” As he stood, his eyes turned to slits and his voice took on a calm menace. “Colin, you cannot face him alone. Without that sunlight spell, the New Orleans coven will tear you apart. I insist that I accompany you into the control chamber, and that you take Luther with us as well. He and I are more than capable of remaining hidden until you strike.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know, Crowley—one blast from the Eye, and you and Luther are toast. And if it is the Dark Druid, and he gains control of Luther—”

  He smiled, and since Crowley never smiled it was creepy as all hell, like Wednesday Addams when she was up to no good. “You’ll just have to deal with the Fear Doirich quickly, then, won’t you?”

  Of course, Luther had already heard our conversation—vampire ears were nearly as sensitive as a werewolf’s. “He’s right, Colin. You can’t go in alone.”

  “Fine, but stay back until I make my move. And remember, the Fear Doirich is mine.”

  I called across the courtyard, where Samson, the fae, and Sophia Doroshenko were cleaning up the remaining undead ’thropes. Samson had shifted to his wolf-human form, and he was savaging the neck of a were-panther with his massive jaws. There was a loud pop as the were-panther’s head went rolling. The alpha stood, licking blood from his lips and snout, and I waited until he was finished before I addressed him.

  “Alpha, you’re—well, alpha, right now. Take care of any stragglers and keep everyone away from the main control room.”

  I remembered too late that Samson’s wolf didn’t like taking orders, and I saw his hackles rise at the way I’d addressed him. He locked eyes with me, the man fighting the wolf, resisting the instinct to crush this usurper standing before him. Then, he nodded once and turned away, barking orders at the rest of the team as he organized squads to sweep the facility.

  Well, that was close. Note to self, don’t boss the alpha wolf around after he shifts.

  Releasing a lungful of air I hadn’t realized I’d been holding, I started shucking clothes so I could make the full change. Unsurprisingly, that earned me a few catcall whistles from Fallyn. I glanced inside the building where Bells stood watch, her lips pressed into a tight line. Once she realized I was watching her, she gave me a hard look and turned her attention back down the hallway.

  Hah, thought I didn’t see that, didn’t you? Looks like someone isn’t as over me as they think.

  Once I’d stripped to my skivvies, I spent the next twenty seconds or so transforming into my bigger, badder self. Luther was fascinated by the metamorphosis, while Crowley looked away. Couldn’t blame him for it. He had some bad memories associated with my Hyde-side.

  “Alright,” I said to the wizard and master vampire in my now very deep, rumbling voice. “Let’s go fuck some shit up.”

  With that, I took off at a crouching lope, squeezing through the doorway to approach Bells, Maureen, and the fae assassins in the hall.

  “Maureen, make sure no one follows us, alright? I don’t want to risk losing anybody to one of the Eye’s heat blasts tonight. Well, except maybe Crowley.”

  Belladonna’s eyes narrowed at me. She slung her rifle over her shoulder, then grabbed Crowley by his leather jacket and hoodie, pulling him close to kiss him on the lips.

  “Don’t get killed for his sake, hear me?” she said to the shadow wizard as she stared into his eyes. The girl didn’t spare me a glance as she spun on her heel and walked out of the building.

  Maureen hid her mouth behind her hand and snickered, while the assassin twins looked on, bored. Crowley wore a dopey, shit-eating grin, and Luther’s face was a mask of barely restrained mirth. I rolled my eyes and sighed, then took off down the hallway toward the control room.

  We ran through a maze of halls, passing a small museum and a training center that included an exact scale-replica of the plant’s control room. Of course, we popped our heads in to take a look. The room was roughly thirty by sixty feet, oblong and octagonal at the ends, and filled with banks of lights, monitors, and switches.

  “Well, that’s handy,” I rumbled. “At least we know what the layout will be when we go in.”

  “That’s if they’re even in there,” Crowley commented. “To access the reactor rods, he’ll need to be inside one of the reactors.”

  “I guess we’ll find out when we get there,” Luther said, looking at me quizzically. “How do you intend to get the drop on them, anyway?”

  “You’ll see,” I replied, loping off down the hallway.

  Minutes later, we reached a hallway with a sign above it that said, “Security Checkpoint Ahead.” I motioned to Crowley, but he was way ahead of me. A small ball of shadow and smoke appeared above his hand, changing shape and coalescing into a tiny salamander-shaped creature. He whispered to his creation and the thing leapt from his hand to the wall. The shadow golem scurried toward the ceiling, then it darted around the corner and out of sight.

  Crowley closed his eyes, and moments later he relayed what his mystical servant saw up ahead. “Two vamps, on alert. Older, I think, in modern ballistic armor and armed with firearms and shock batons.”

  “Remy’s enforcers,” Luther hissed. “Don’t worry, I got this.”

  The old vamp disappeared in a cloud of dark smoke and mist. He reappeared a moment later, brushing off his dinner jacket and straightening the collars on his dark silk dress shirt. He was the only person I’d ever know who would show up to a fight looking like he was headed to dinner at the The Driskill.

  “The way to the control room is clear,” he said, examining his nails. “Oh dear, I’ve ruined my manicure. Well, I suppose sacrifices must be made for the greater good.”

  “You don’t know the half of it,” I muttered.

  He looked up at me, concern in his eyes. “At some point, we’re going to have a serious talk about whatever has happened to you—and don’t you expect to squirm out of it.”

  “Yes, Mom,” I said, earning me a sharp slap on the arm.

  “I might be a queen, but don’t you ever refer to me as your mother,” the vamp said, meaning it. “Now, are you ready to do this?”

  “Trust me, they won’t see me coming,” I replied, rubbing my arm. Even in this form, it hurt when Luther slapped me. “When you hear the shit hit the fan, you guys come running. But, Luther, if you come in there and the Fear Doirich is still on his feet, I want you to turn right back around. And watch yourselves, the both of you. If that fucker pulls his glove off that creepy, fucked-up hand of his, both of you should run.”

  Without waiting for a reply, I reached into my Bag and pulled out Commander Gunnarson’s cloak of invisibility. It was semi-sentient, and the damned thing still fought me like a motherfucker when I tried to use it. However, we’d come to a certain understanding during my time in the Hellpocalypse. It let me use its powers every so often, and I promised I wouldn’t feed it down a garbage disposal.

  It was a strained relationship, but it worked.

  I threw the cloak around me, knowing it was way too small. From past experience, I knew that I looked like Chowder from Monster House with the man-sized cloak draped across my massive Fomorian shoulders.

  The corner of Crowley’s mouth curled up as he took it all in. “That is a very good look for you, druid. You should wear it more often.”

  Luther covered his eyes and shook his head. “At the very least, they should die of laughter when they see you. Well done.”

  “Like I said, they won’t see me.” I willed the cloak to do its thing and winked out of existence before their very eyes.

  “Where’d he go?” Luther asked.

  “Invisibility cloak,” I said after sneaking up behind them. “Pretty cool, huh?”

  Crowley rolled his eyes at my antics, but my prank did elicit a small sta
rtle response from the Austin coven leader. He spun with murder in his eyes, which darted everywhere as they tried to determine where I was standing.

  “Boy, don’t you ever sneak up on a black man like that! You are like to be shot or bitten doing that, and not necessarily in that order.”

  I chuckled. “Remember, when all hell breaks loose, that’s your signal.”

  Then, I took off down the hall, absolutely silent. Since I took it off Gunnarson, I’d spent a lot of time trying to figure out how the cloak worked. I never could suss out how it functioned—all I knew was that I couldn’t be seen or heard by anyone while I was wearing it, unless I wanted to. The cloak’s only limitation was that it took an immense effort of will to control it and use it; thus, I couldn’t wear it but for a few minutes at a time. Any more than that, and I’d start getting a headache that could put down an elephant.

  I’d learned that the hard way. Getting a migraine in a post-apocalyptic world flat-out sucks. You can’t just run to the corner store for a blister pack of Excedrin and a four-pack of Red Bull. The only solution was either to sleep it off or boil a shitload of willow bark and sip it ’til I was pissing buckets. Thus, I’d have to make this quick.

  I crept up to the control room entry foyer and waited for someone to exit. It didn’t take long before one of Remy’s shock troops came out, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket as he exited the room. Of all the human stuff that a vamp might choose to do, smoking seemed like it’d be the last habit they’d want to retain. Then again, when cancer isn’t an issue, I guess you can do whatever the hell you want with your body—who am I to judge?

  Moving with all the grace and speed I could muster, I barely squeezed my huge bulk through the door before it closed. Even on all fours, my shoulders scraped against the door frame as I entered. Thankfully, the noise was muted by the cloak—but what I didn’t count on was snagging the damned thing on the latch.

  There was a loud ripping sound as Gunnarson’s cloak tore from around my neck. Inside the control room, a dozen pairs of eyes looked my way in response to the noise, along with one hooded, concealed face. Figuring I was fucked any way I sliced it, I stood to my full height and waved at the room full of vampires.

  “Hiya, folks—ya miss me?”

  When the vamps sprang into action, they came at me in force. The room was large, maybe the size of a small house, but with all those banks of control panels and workstations it offered me little room to maneuver. Lacking the room to evade their assault, I went at them head on as they zipped across the space to attack me.

  The first two came at me high and low, likely in an attempt to take me down to their level. It didn’t work. I snagged each of them by their scrawny little heroin-chic necks, crushing them like papier-mâché dolls.

  Yet it was a Pyrrhic victory, as the sacrifice those two vamps made created an opening for the rest of their number to surround me. A half-dozen more of the sneaky bastards and bitches zipped in and out, faster than the human eye could see, stabbing and punching and scratching and biting at me like a school of piranhas while Remy, Cornelius, Gaius, and Silvère looked on.

  My skin was tough enough to repel small arms fire, but blades and fists moving at vampire speed were another matter—as were vampire claws and teeth. The vyrus hardened a vampire’s tooth enamel and nail keratin when they changed, and the older they got, the tougher that tissue became. Vamps who were as old as these, in the one-fifty to two hundred range, could chew and scratch their way through concrete and mild steel without chipping a nail. Nail polish, of course, was another matter—much to Luther’s displeasure.

  Within seconds, I was bleeding from dozens of wounds. I could heal rather quickly in this form, but I wasn’t invulnerable. The longer this went on, the more likely it would be that they’d hit something vital, and then the tables would truly have turned. Lacking alternatives, I decided to switch to my Plan B.

  “Crowley, a little help in here!” I shouted out the door as I held one vamp off the ground by his ankle and another by the scrotum.

  I squeezed on both counts, and my efforts were rewarded by a satisfying snap on the one hand and a girlish screech on the other. I swung the vampire with the crushed testicles overhead until said nut sack separated from its owner. That one crashed head-first into the wall with a sickening crunch, still clutching his groin like a school boy who’d just got racked. Meanwhile, the other vamp was doing a hell of an impressive inverted sit-up, gnawing at my arm like a chihuahua attacking a leg of lamb. I tossed her across the room at a bank of lights and switches, buckling it. Neither vamp got back up.

  Oops—I hope that control panel wasn’t too important.

  That still left four of the bastards, plus the peanut gallery across the way. I was honestly getting a little concerned at my odds, but then three of the vamps attacking me got yanked out the door by tendrils of smoke and shadow. The fourth vamp got distracted by that little development, so I punched a hole through his chest. Shaking blood and goo off my hand, I turned my attention toward the rest of the group.

  On the other side of the room, the Dark Druid spoke in a conversational tone to Remy DeCourdreaux. “Don’t kill the shadow wizard—he may be of some use to me yet. Do as you will with the rest.”

  Remy grinned like a barracuda sizing up a school of herrings. “Gladly.”

  The Fear Doirich’s only response was to open a portal and step through. I managed to catch a glimpse of what was on the other side, and knew exactly where he’d gone. The reactors—but which one?

  I had little time to puzzle it out, because Remy was already barking orders at the other remaining members of the New Orleans coven. “Silvère, Cornelius—you take the druid. Gaius and I will deal with the wizard—but remember, Gaius, he wants him alive.”

  “Oh, cut the shit,” I grumbled. “I know you’re all working for the Fear Doirich.”

  “How alive?” Gaius asked, ignoring me. “Nevermind. Just leave a piece of the druid for me. I owe him for what he did to Lucius.”

  He zipped toward the door with Remy not far behind. But just as Gaius reached the exit, a tall, dark figure appeared in a cloud of black smoke in front of him. Luther extended an arm, snatching the much younger vamp off the ground by his neck. He squeezed, cracking the kid’s neck, then dropped him to the floor like a dirty snot rag.

  Nope, they definitely did not see that coming.

  “No!” Cornelius screamed, darting toward Luther.

  Remy stepped aside to let Cornelius pass, and soon Luther and his old rival were going after each other like two wet cats in a burlap bag. The outcome of that encounter was a foregone conclusion, so I turned my attention to the New Orleans coven leader and his right-hand enforcer. I had no intentions of bothering with them. I simply wanted to make certain Remy and Silvère didn’t slip away.

  “Crowley, you got this?” I asked without taking my eyes off the vamp.

  My enigmatic frenemy came floating into view, “hovering” several feet off the ground by use of several thick tendrils of shadow magic that extended from his torso. Smaller wisps of shadow whipped and tore at the air all around him, and his eyes were two jet-black orbs so dark they sucked in light, making the surrounding sockets look bruised and sickly. Black energy danced from his fingertips, and a general sensation of despair came off him in waves.

  All-in-all, it was a fucking impressive entrance.

  The shadow wizard turned his freaky eyes on me. “I wouldn’t mind having a few choice words with my stepfather regarding my supposed utility. However, I am content to allow you to handle that worm of a necromancer for me while I deal with his lackeys.”

  “I’ll leave you to it, then,” I replied, bounding on all fours out the door and down a hallway with an arrow and “Reactor One” painted on its cinder block wall.

  Reactor One was void of life, so I backtracked and took the opposite hall to Reactor Two, entering it on the ground level. I had no idea what sort of radiation I’d be exposed to in there, nor did
I know whether or not my Formorian body would be able to withstand the effects of radiation poisoning. I had my suspicions it would, simply based on my one-hundred-percent survival rate during past exposures to the Eye’s energies.

  At least, that’s what I hoped.

  When I walked into the reactor, the Fear Doirich was standing on a balcony above the fuel rod cooling pool, hood down with his Fomorian hand extended toward the waters below. The Eye was glowing a bright, cherry red. It didn’t take a genius to guess that the two of them were building up enough power to zap the fuel rods, vaporize the water in the cooling tank, and cause a meltdown.

  “You’re not looking so great these days, bub,” I said, meaning it.

  His face was a grayish color, and streaked with dark, blue-green veins, as if his whole body were gangrenous and sickly. Which, of course, it was. The body I’d locked him in was long past its expiration date, and since he couldn’t hop over to another one, it was only a matter of time before the damned thing started to spoil.

  “One more step, and I overload the reactor core,” he croaked. “It’ll be like Fukushima but ten times worse, since the Eye has the power to send the rods into an instantaneous meltdown. The resulting explosion will send up a cloud of fallout that will blanket that little burg to the south and east of here, and thousands there will die. That poisonous cloud will then spread, contaminating thousands of square miles of your beloved state. Ten of thousands will be affected. Babies will be stillborn, cancer rates will increase, and birth defects will skyrocket. It will make what I did in Austin pale in comparison.”

  “I know,” I said calmly. “But no matter what I do, you’re going to do it anyway.”

  “Oh? And what makes you think that?”

  I ignored him, instead looking at his hand—the one with the glowing orb embedded in it. “Eye, you sure you don’t want to change sides again? Final offer.”