The Junkyard Druid Box Set 2

by M. D. Massey

  We slowly crawled backward until we were well hidden on our side of the ridge.

  Fallyn pointed with her thumb behind us. “Tactically, we have the high ground, but numbers are on their side. Even if we place snipers on all the high points and overlooks, we could still be overrun as soon as the fighting starts. So, what’s our play?”

  “Is the Pack ready to go?”

  She nodded. “Waiting about a half-mile from here with Samson, and itching for a fight. I guess you’re not as much of an outcast as you think,” she said with a wink. “You want me to call them in?”

  “Uh-uh, not yet. I prefer to have the Pack acting as rear guard when we go in the mine to take out the skinwalkers and La Llorona. Plus, I don’t want to risk a lot of losses. I have a better plan for dealing with the Fear Doirich’s little army.”

  I reached into my Craneskin Bag, pulling out the flechette I’d recovered from Jesse’s shoulder. It was still encased inside my stasis spell, and thus it hadn’t been broadcasting its position. With a few arcane gestures, I removed the stasis spell, then examined it in the magical spectrum to ensure the damned thing was still sending out a strong signal.

  Loud and clear.

  I grabbed a baseball-sized rock, and with a little druidic coaxing, the flechette was soon encased inside it.

  “How good’s your arm?” I asked Fallyn, knowing that her strength far exceeded mine at the moment.

  “I spent three years pitching on a select team when I was in high school. Our high school coach kept me benched all the time, so Dad enrolled me in a private league.” She shrugged. “Where do you want it?”

  I pointed to the northeast, toward the main road leading to the mine. “About a half-mile that way.”

  Fallyn stood, still hidden on our side of the ridge, bouncing the rock in her hand to gauge the weight and balance. Then, she wound up and delivered a pitch that any major league scout would have drooled over. The rock and its payload went soaring off into the distance, well past the undead sentries and hopefully right where I wanted it.

  The she-wolf cocked a hand to her ear, and stood absolutely still for the span of several seconds before giving a short nod. “I might have been off by a hundred yards or so.”

  “Meh, horseshoes and hand grenades. As long as nothing and no one at the mine notices, we’ll be fine.”

  “So, what do we do now?”

  I smiled. “Now, we wait.”

  About three hours later, we heard the faint “whoomp-whoomp-whoomp” of helicopters approaching from the northeast. We were sitting close to the top of the ridge, so we had a good view of the skies toward Austin.

  Time to gear up.

  I pulled a short-barreled pump shotgun from my Bag along with a bandolier of ammo—some of my leftovers from the Hellpocalypse that I’d been loath to part with. Next, I strapped my tactical belt and pistols around my waist, then checked to make sure I had several mags loaded with ammo in my mag pouches. Finally, I slung Dyrnwyn over my shoulder, and finished by checking my pockets to make sure I had various other surprises handy. Then, I searched the skies to the east for Mendoza’s black helicopters.

  No lights. Fuckers are flying dark. I guess Cerberus doesn’t answer to the FAA, either.

  “They got here fast,” Fallyn remarked.

  I squinted as I did some calculations in my head. “Figure we’re about four hundred-some miles from Austin as the crow flies, and a military bird cruises at a hundred-eighty mph—yeah, Mendoza must still be super-pissed to have scrambled his troops like that.” I inclined my head at the top of the ridge. “Let’s go see how this all plays out, shall we?”

  Although they were flying on blackout—no running lights whatsoever—the noise of the engines and rotors echoed off the canyon walls like thunder. Soon, four UH-60 Black Hawks landed just east of the mine area, and roughly forty agents in tactical gear carrying black rifles and other more exotic weapons poured out of them. The noise and movement was more or less a dinner call for the undead below, who went absolutely apeshit crawling all over each other as they ran, trudged, shuffled, stumbled, and crawled toward the noise.

  A hundred undead against forty heavily-armed agents. This ought to be good.

  Hemi grunted. “We, uh, gonna help ’em?”

  “Nope. Serves those fuckers right for busting into my junkyard like they owned the place.” I looked at Larry. “Any sign of La Onza yet?”

  His tongue lolled out of his mouth at an odd angle, hanging like a pinkish-grey tapeworm between two of his messed-up teeth. “Oh, she’s around, believe me. Once the fighting starts, she’ll do her part.”

  Fallyn started to strip, immediately garnering all Larry’s attention. This earned him an ear thump from Hemi. “Manners, mutt!”

  Larry growled before looking the other way. I noted that one of his bug-eyes looked downhill in the direction he was facing, while the other somehow turned of its own volition to watch the werewolf. I grabbed a rock and beaned him in the snout.

  “Ow!” he exclaimed. “Alright, I know when I’m not wanted. Don’t die before you kill Ernesto, druid.” Then, he faded out of sight.

  “Good riddance,” Hemi said under his breath.

  “I heard that!” Larry said from somewhere down the hill.

  By the time I turned my attention back to my companions, Fallyn had already shifted into her half-human form. She glanced over her shoulder and caught me looking. The she-wolf’s hips swayed seductively as she swished her tail side to side with a wink. I didn’t know whether to be aroused or repulsed, but I was leaning toward arousal. And honestly, I didn’t know how I felt about that either.

  “Is the Pack in position?” I asked, shifting the attention to me in hopes of avoiding any questions from Hemi later on werewolf mating habits.

  Fallyn answered in a slightly deeper, rougher version of her normal voice. “They are.”

  “And they know that when we go in, their job is just to watch our backs, right?”

  “I’m the Pack Alpha’s daughter, Colin,” she growled. “I know how to convey orders.”

  “Right—sorry, I’m just a little nervous.” I looked at them both each in turn. “Remember, your job is to take care of Ernesto and Stanley so I can go after the Dark Druid. Whatever happens, do not follow me, do not try to intervene, and get the hell out of there once our battle starts.”

  “Still can’t see why we can’t jump in and help,” Hemi pouted.

  “Because, it’s going to be a big, messy clusterfuck,” I answered. “Once we engage each other, spells are going to be flying everywhere, and the Fear Doirich doesn’t deal in kiddie magic. He’s going to be out for blood, and if he can use one of you as leverage, he will. It’ll make things a lot easier on me if I know you two are out of the way when I face him.”

  Both my heart and mind were racing in anticipation of the coming battle, so with nothing better to do, I began to stealth-shift, wanting to conserve my full Fomorian form for the Dark Druid. The noise from the helicopter rotors died down while I was in mid-shift, only to be replaced by small arms fire. First it was just a few scattered shots, then we heard sustained automatic weapons fire, along with a lot of shouting, growls, and the moans of the undead. As I finished my transformation, I couldn’t help but laugh at what was happening to Mendoza and his goons.

  “I do believe that’s our cue,” I said.

  “You’re enjoying this way too much,” Fallyn remarked.

  “Let a bloke have his fun,” the Maori protested. “It’s not every day you get to face your archenemy.” He patted me on the shoulder with one of his huge, meaty hands. “Kick his arse, Colin.”

  “Oh, I fully intend to,” I replied.

  And if that fails, I plan to take the fucker out with me.

  “Fallyn, you’re our link to the Pack. Once we enter the mine, call them in and have them guard our rear flank. Also let them know that they are not to engage Mendoza’s people. If the feds make it through the undead and start to advance on the mine, the
Pack should retreat to a safe distance and conceal their presence.”

  “Samson’s not going to like leaving us in a pincer between the Dark Druid and the feds,” Fallyn said. “Dad might not show it, but he is very interested in keeping you alive.”

  “Tell him I plan to give him a big hug next time I see him, just for showing up. That’ll make him abandon my sorry ass in a hurry.” I gave them both a grim smile. “Alright, let’s go storm the motherfucking castle.”

  With the undead out of the way, we leapt off the ridge to the plateau below. Fallyn and I landed lightly behind a crumbling limestone building, the only sound being the caliche crunching under our feet. As for Hemi, he made a bit more noise than I would have liked as his three-hundred-fifty-pound frame landed in the gravel. A couple of the ghosts flitting back and forth around the main entrance of the mine to the south must have heard, because a couple started floating our way.

  I frowned at Hemi and mouthed, Dude, really?

  He yawned and cracked his neck in response. “Don’t worry, mate. I got this.”

  Before Fallyn or I could react, Hemi strolled out from behind the ruins, calmly walking toward the tunnel entrance—and at least a dozen angry spirits.

  “Well, shit. I hope he knows what he’s doing,” I whispered to Fallyn. She grinned wolfishly—the only way possible in her half-human form—and settled in to watch the show.

  The ghosts shrieked in an awful chorus of rage and delight upon seeing the big Maori walking their way, and the lot of them made a beeline straight at him. Undeterred, Hemi began his haka. His tattoos began glowing with pale blue magic as he started chanting, stomping, slapping, waving, and making the scariest damned faces at the oncoming ghosts.

  One would think that an angry spirit who only existed to seek revenge on the living would be unimpressed by such a display, no matter how large or intimidating the person performing it. And, if you thought that, you’d be wrong. Instead of increasing their pace, the ghosts began to slow, gradually coming to a full and complete stop in midair. Within seconds, their contorted, tortured faces were frozen in mid-scream, their ghastly voices trailing away to silence. This happened to each ghost in turn, until every last one of them was under Hemi’s spell.

  Then, Hemi began to pick up the pace. He chanted louder, leapt higher, stomped deeper, and made scarier faces—if that was possible. And while the tattoos on his body continued to glow that same sky blue, the black ink in his moko began to writhe and twist into entirely new shapes. Simultaneously, his unmarked skin in the spaces between the ink began to glow with a white, eerie luminescence, the light ebbing and flowing in time with his voice.

  And just like that, the spirits started to shrivel up and fade away, one by one, each releasing one last haunting cry that trailed off into nothingness as they were banished. As the last ghost disappeared from sight, Hemi stood up and gave one final stomp and victorious battle cry. I was just about to congratulate him when a lithe, translucent female figure in a lacy black dress rose up from the ground behind him.

  I knew what would come next—La Llorona would scream, using her magic to freeze him in place, and then she’d go for the kill. I opened my mouth to shout a warning, just as that deadly keening wail began to emanate from the specter’s featureless face. Knowing Hemi wouldn’t hear the warning in time, I covered my ears and attempted to make a run for it, even though my legs were already turning to jelly.

  Just then, Hemi spun on a dime and grabbed La Llorona by the neck in one of those huge hands of his, cutting her voice off with a single, powerful squeeze. My jaw hit my chest and Fallyn released a short, quizzical whine beside me. I had no idea how my friend was hanging onto a ghost, but he was, and obviously it was as much a surprise to the specter as it was to everyone else.

  Behind Hemi, the ghosts of children began appearing, one by one—La Llorona’s victims, I was certain of it. There were hundreds of them, sad little forms that filled the valley with their numbers. Once all had arrived, they slowly advanced on the murderous ghost. In response, La Llorona began kicking and scratching, fighting and clawing for all she was worth to get loose, but the Maori warrior held her fast.

  “Now, kurī uwha, you’ll know the terror these children felt,” Hemi said with an almost casual conviction. Then, he turned his head and spoke to no one in particular. “Mum, I’m ready.”

  A magic portal opened beside my friend, shrouded in dark mists but translucent enough for me to spot a familiar face on the other side. Between the strong, slender build, high cheekbones, full lips, nearly ashen skin, deep brown eyes set in a permanent glare, and that full mane of hair, well—there was no mistaking her. After my adventure in Hemi’s homeland, I’d have recognized his mother anywhere.

  But this time she wasn’t “Henny,” the stern, no-nonsense mother I’d met on Stewart Island. Now she was Hine-nui-te-pō, the Maori goddess of night and death, shrouded in shadow and darkness and beauty. The weight and force of her power and station was evident in her very stance and bearing. Unfortunately for La Llorona, she’d answered her son’s call across space and time all the way from Te Reinga, the underworld where she reigned supreme. And by the look on Hine-nui-te-pō’s face, it was clear she’d come to mete out justice on the wicked specter as few other gods or goddesses were able.

  A long, graceful hand reached out of the portal, grasping La Llorona by her straight black hair with a vise-like grip. On cue, Hemi released the specter, eager as he was to hand his quarry over to his mother’s unforgiving supervision. Without a word, Hemi’s mom yanked that evil bitch back through the portal, in a manner that was by no means gentle or kind.

  That moment would be etched in my memory for all eternity. As La Llorona was pulled into the portal, her freaky blank face faded away, revealing the features of a twenty-something Spanish girl underneath. This young woman was exotically beautiful, with light brown eyes, dusky skin, a slightly hawkish nose, and full lips that betrayed her Moorish heritage. She was absolutely stunning, but what I found most striking of all was her expression.

  Never had I seen anyone look more terrified than La Llorona in that moment. For an instant, we locked eyes. I saw not defiance there, or rage, or the pain of grief and loss. Instead, what I witnessed was the knowing certainty that she was about to pay for the centuries of grief and sorrow she’d caused, and the hundreds of lives she’d snuffed out, far, far too soon.

  I felt a small twinge of sympathy for her, then remembered what she’d done to her own children. Once I’d reminded myself of that initial, unforgivable act—the reason why she’d been cursed in the first place—any compassion I might have felt for her vanished.

  Have fun in hell, bitch.

  As soon as La Llorona had been sucked into Te Reinga, the ghosts of her victims began to leave. One by one, they walked toward a pinpoint of bright light in the distance before fading out of sight.

  Realizing the portal was still open, my eyes snapped back to the goddess. Hine-nui-te-pō winked at me, an incongruous act that shocked me back to my senses. Then, the portal snapped shut. Hemi stood there, shoulders back and head held high, looking every bit the Maori warrior he was.

  And that’s why you don’t fuck with the son of the goddess of death and night.

  18

  “Um, Hemi—think you could get your mom to help us with the Dark Druid?” Fallyn asked with a gleam in her eye.

  Hemi shook his head. “Naw, sorry. Mum tends to avoid getting mixed in the other pantheons’ biz. Professional courtesy. This one was a personal favor, and a one-off at that.”

  “Too bad,” Fallyn said. “I like her style.”

  With the ghosts and the issue of further divine intervention settled, we checked each of the mineshaft entrances for signs of foot traffic, inspecting them closely to see if the iron grates covering them had been disturbed. All were intact except for the main shaft, the only place where Fallyn detected the recent passage of skinwalkers. It would have been an easy guess which way to go regardless, as the heavy ir
on grate had been ripped off and carelessly tossed to the side, leaving the shaft exposed and uncovered.

  Apparently, the Dark Druid wants me to find him. Peachy.

  According to an old survey map I’d found online, this entrance was a vertical shaft some three hundred feet deep with horizontal tunnels branching off it at intervals. In the distant past when the mine was active, a lift had taken miners down and brought ore back up. But now, no such equipment existed on site, which meant we’d be descending the hard way. It also meant it would be that much more difficult to retreat, should it come to that.

  I uncoiled a length of climbing rope that I brought from the campsite, tying it off on some old discarded heavy equipment nearby. Hemi pulled the grate away from the mine shaft, and I tossed the rope down the hole. It was darker than pitch twenty feet down the shaft, so I cast a cantrip to enhance my vision, sharpening my senses even more than they already were in my stealth-shifted state.

  “I go in first, then Fallyn, and finally Hemi,” I said. “We’ll take the first side shaft we come across. Most of the tunnels are above one-hundred-fifty feet, so that’s where we’ll likely find them. Remember, once we deal with Ernesto and Stanley, I want you two to beat feet back to the surface. Leave the Fear Doirich to me.”

  “Naw, mate, no can do,” Hemi protested.

  “Same,” Fallyn growled.

  “We’ve been over this before,” I sighed. “Neither of you are equipped to handle the Dark Druid. And, it’s going to be much easier for me to fight him if you two aren’t in the way.”

  “Hey, that stings,” Hemi replied.

  “He’s right. You would just be in the way,” a female voice said from nearby.

  The others spun to face the new arrival, ready for action, but I already knew who it was. “Hemi, Fallyn—meet La Onza.”