Shadow of the Ghoul (Halfblood Legacy Book 2)

by Devin Hanson

  “We missed a turn.” Ores put his arm up on the seat behind my back and twisted around. “Hang on.”

  Ores threw the truck into reverse and backed up. A jolt shook the truck as he jumped the curb and swung into a semi-sized car wash. I gritted my teeth and braced myself as Ores careened through the truck wash backwards. He passed through an empty stall then cranked the wheel over, skidding through oily puddles and came to a halt facing out into the street.

  A truck driver shouted abuse at us and Ores flicked him off before gunning the engine and crossing the street through a gap in the traffic. He slowed to a stop and leaned out the window, sniffing the air and ignoring the horns all around us.

  “I hate this part of the city,” Ores informed us after he settled back into the seat. “So many chemicals in the air. Good news. We are back on track.”

  I skinned my teeth at him. “Do you think maybe you could avoid killing us before we get there?”

  Ores huffed but slowed down. “You said you were in a hurry.”

  We were back to pausing at every intersection again. Ores kept to the right, driving at a bare ten miles an hour. Car part warehouses and wrecking yards lined the road, displays a-dangle with brake lights. We came to a stop as a train rumbled by, stacked two-high with shipping containers. We watched the train go by in silence, nobody voicing the obvious concern. If the ghoul had managed to get the bodies on a train, there was no way we were going to find them.

  The train finally passed and Ores crawled through the intersection before pulling onto Alameda heading north. Once more, we came to a freeway entrance, and this time, Ores actually came to a complete stop. He got out of the car amid the blaring horns, and walked to the entrance on foot.

  I saw his face elongate even more, his nose turning up and darkening as it grew. The rain was coming down harder as he knelt down on the ground and sniffed along the gutter. He took five or six paces up the freeway entrance before turning back and getting into the truck again.

  “They went onto the highway,” he announced.

  I twisted back to look at the traffic stacking up behind us. “Okay. Can we go now?”

  Ores grinned at me. His face was back to the way it was before he had gotten out of the car. “They have nowhere important to be. A few minutes delay will do them good. Give them a story to tell.”

  We turned onto the highway onramp, moving at a crawl. Ores popped his door open and leaned out to smell the road before pulling into the left turn lane and easing through the green light. It turned yellow as we were in the intersection and we left the honking horns and backed-up traffic at the red light.

  Before we made it to the next intersection, Ores pulled into the turning lane and paused to wait for a break in the traffic before crossing the street.

  “What is this place?” Ryan asked.

  “Oil refinery,” Ores growled. “Can’t you smell it?”

  “Well, it looks closed for the weekend, whatever it is,” I said.

  Ores snorted. “The ghoul brought the bodies here. Do you want to wait until Monday for the next business hour?”

  I leaned forward and looked up out the windshield at the dozens of fat power lines running toward the plant. Past the clustered office buildings, massive spherical tanks towered. “Not really. In here, huh? I hope you can still smell them, Ores. This place is huge.”

  Ores grunted and pulled into the all-but-empty parking lot. “The trail is growing faint. We are cutting it close.”

  He killed the engine and the rain drumming on the roof filled the silence. Lightning flashed, lighting up the clouds to the south. A second later, thunder boomed, rattling and rolling as it echoed off the tanks.

  “Then we better get moving,” I said.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The rain really started picking up as we got out of the truck. I got my tonfa from behind the passenger seat, and the satchel with the skull in it, and Ores stuffed an extra handful of ammunition into his coat before slinging his rifle over his shoulder.

  Ryan’s preparations were a little more elaborate. He tugged on latex gloves before pulling a pair of fingerless shooting gloves over them. Then he pulled a fully tricked out assault rifle from his golf bag. I’d seen this kind of gun before; Eric had had a similarly-equipped rifle. But where Eric’s had been flashy and expensive-looking, Ryan’s looked utilitarian and military. He checked the sights and screwed a long suppressor onto the end of the muzzle.

  “What are the gloves for?” Ores asked.

  “Plausible deniability,” Ryan said shortly. “No fingerprints on this weapon to link it to me and the serial number’s been filed off.”

  Ores looked down at the gun in his hands. The gun that was registered in his name. I could see the doubt on his face. “Huh.”

  “Don’t sweat it,” Ryan shrugged. “It’s not like these guys are likely to call the cops on us. And nobody driving by will hear anything other than distant thunder, especially with the rain.”

  “I guess it’d be silly to ask if that gun is legal,” I asked Ryan.

  Ryan grinned. “It is completely illegal.”

  “You do know I work for the police, right?”

  His grin only broadened. “Yep. What’s the matter? Got cold feet? Besides, the last time I checked, tonfa were illegal as well.”

  I scowled. “Fine. But if you get caught with that, I had no idea you were carrying it.”

  Ryan wiggled his fingers at me. “I’m wearing gloves for a reason, Alex. Relax. This isn’t my first rodeo.”

  I crossed my arms and shivered when a runnel of water ran down between my breasts. “Hey, it’s your jail time. Ores, you don’t have to fight. Once we find what we’re looking for, hide, run back to the truck, whatever you think is best, okay?”

  Ores sniffed. “You expect me to run away and leave a girl to fight?”

  “I’m not just a girl, Ores.” I had to raise my voice to shout over a rumble of thunder. “And I promised May I would get you back home safe.”

  “Bah.” Ores kicked at the gravel underfoot. “Whatever. We’re losing the scent. Come on.”

  Trying to argue with a bear hinn who had his back to you was a study in futility. I was starting to understand what May was talking about when she said nobody could convince her husband to do anything he didn’t want to. I threw a look at Ryan, and jogged to catch up to Ores.

  “So, what are we following?” I asked the hinn.

  “The stench of death and blood.” He pointed ahead of him, at a puddle that was forming in the road. “It’s dripping out of the back of the container. Not much, but it makes a trail I can follow.”

  I swallowed. “Oh. That’s… disgusting.”

  Ores looked at me out of the corner of his eye. “Death is rarely beautiful.”

  “But it is, sometimes?”

  “Yes. There is beauty in an honorable death, and in a noble hunt.”

  I made a face. “No offense, Ores, we’re just going to have to agree to disagree on that one.”

  The hinn shrugged. “You are young. Your killer friend would agree with me, I think.”

  I looked over at Ryan and he nodded. “The hinn is right. There can be beauty in death.”

  I rolled my eyes, but didn’t bother debating the point any further. We were getting further into the refinery, and Ores led us on a right turn past the offices. There were trucks and other vehicles parked, but I didn’t see any workers about. It was strange, and a little creepy. I couldn’t believe we had come so far without anyone trying to stop us. Surely this place had restricted access?

  To our left, the steel forest of the refinery loomed, silhouetted against the dark sky by sporadic flashes of lightning. Gantries supporting thick steel pipes ran parallel to the access road we were on, and overhead were the swooping, heavy-gauge electrical cables.

  “This place is an abomination,” Ores growled. He ducked down to sniff at a puddle then straightened up, nostrils flaring. “There! In that last lot on the right.”


  I squinted into the rain, following Ores’ pointing finger. I saw the figures first, huddling against the rain and hurrying across the access road further into the refinery. Then I saw the flatbed truck, and the familiar white of the medical container. The rain was too heavy to make out the details at this distance, but I thought I could see bullet holes in the side of the container.

  “That’s it! That’s the container!” I put a hand out, stopping Ores. “But this is as far as you go, Ores. Ryan and I will take it from here.”

  “I don’t need your coddling,” Ores growled and shook his arm free.

  “Maybe not,” I admitted. “But I’ll be damned if I have to go tell Blueberry why her dad isn’t coming home again.”

  Ores cursed and glared at me. “I said I would help you. You may be halfblood, and your friend may have the deaths of dozens on his hands, but this is a fight you cannot win with just the two of you. I can smell them. They have corruption in their blood. There’s something wrong up there.”

  I frowned. “Corruption? You mean thralls?” That wasn’t good. I had assumed the thralls had all left on the Bari. That might explain why the port authority couldn’t find anything wrong with the container ship.

  Ryan spat to the side. “Thralls are bad news, Alex. I’ve fought them overseas. They don’t go down easily. We could use an extra gun.”

  Ores looked at me expectantly, and I crossed my arms. “Look. I’m not your mom. You’re an adult to make your own mistakes, but I gave my word to May.”

  He tilted his head back and stared up at the sky, blinking as raindrops fell into his eyes. “It is my choice,” he said. “You told Morrel that you protect your city. I protect my people, the same as you. We can pretend like the world outside our home doesn’t exist, but we rely on income made in the cities. If the cities aren’t safe, then our home will be in danger as well. May knows that, and has accepted it.”

  I doubted May would have the same measured, philosophic response to me bringing Ores back to the hinn village in a body bag, but I couldn’t argue with Ores. Not when he used my own argument against me.

  “Okay. Fine. I don’t like it, but fine.”

  Ores nodded, a smile lurking in the corners of his mouth. “Do not worry. I have no intention of putting myself in harm’s way.”

  “Just… stay back. And try not to shoot one of us.”

  Ores snorted. “I told you already. I do not miss.”

  “Great.” I looked at Ryan and he gave me a nod. “Okay. Then I guess we go find out what these assholes are up to.”

  I took the lead and moved down the access road. The semi carrying the hospital container had been pulled behind a tool shed and was almost completely hidden from view. The driving rain covered the sound of my footsteps completely, and I ran to the side of the tool shed. My heart was hammering in my chest and the textured grips of my tonfa felt rough in my tight grip.

  Breathe. I had to remind myself to keep taking measured breaths as I peeked around the corner of the shed. It was definitely the right container, and it seemed abandoned. With a glance back to make sure Ryan and Ores were still following me, I ran to the cab of the semi and swung myself up to look inside. Empty.

  I shook my head at Ryan and he jerked a short nod and let the muzzle of his rifle drop. I moved around to the back of the container, and Ryan took up a covering position without having to be directed. Hell, he probably knew what he was doing way more than I did. I looked around to find Ores, and finally spotted him crouched up on top of the tool shed. He had a good angle to cover the back of the container as well as the access road in both directions.

  Feeling confident that my friends had my back, I climbed up onto the back of the container. The firefight at the docks had damaged the latch and I had to wrench at it to get it unjammed. With a squeal of protesting hinges, the door swung open.

  The container was empty. Well, not exactly. The medical equipment was still there, or what was left of it, at least. A lot of the expensive-looking machinery had been riddled with bullet holes and was obviously just scrap now. The floor was awash with sticky-looking gore, but there were no bodies.

  “Shit,” I said, and dropped down to the ground.

  Ryan relaxed and swung his rifle up onto his shoulder. “Clear,” he called. “The container is empty.” This last for the benefit of Ores, who couldn’t see all the way into the container. “We got a ton of blood, though. Is this enough to exonerate your detectives?”

  Right. That was the reason I was here. Not to fight the ghoul, but to get Sam and Lara out of trouble. I shrugged and pulled my phone out of my jacket pocket. “I don’t know, but this is definitely better than an empty dock.”

  I pulled Sam’s number up, and after a moment’s hesitation, switched to Lara’s number. I didn’t want to talk to Sam right then.

  “Detective Moreno,” Lara answered after the second ring.

  “Hi, Lara. This is Alex.”

  “Alexandra!” A door slammed and the faint background noise on the line cut out. “What did you find?”

  “The missing shipping container. No bodies, but I’m on the trail. There’s enough here to keep your forensics team busy for a week.” I swallowed and I looked into the container. “Tell them to bring a mop and bucket.”

  “One second.” There was a pause, then Lara shouted, “Friday! My office, now!” Lara’s office door shut again. “Where are you? How did you find the container?”

  “I’m at the oil refinery off of the Pacific Coast Highway. Tesoro, I think?”

  “What are you doing at a… never mind. How did you find it?”

  “Does it matter?”

  Lara’s door opened and I heard Sam, a little breathless, say, “What is it, Lara?”

  “Your consultant found the—”

  Ryan tapped me on the shoulder, and I looked up to see the glow of flashlights coming down the access road toward us. “I gotta go,” I said, and hung up the phone.

  “I hope they’re sending the cavalry,” Ryan muttered. He started swinging the container door shut and I grabbed his arm, stopping him before the hinges could squeal again.

  “Hide,” I whispered.

  Ryan ran for a dumped pile of sand and slid out of sight. I was already climbing the side of the container using the ladder rungs welded to the side. I was halfway up before I saw where Ryan was going, but by then it was too late to change my mind. I rolled onto the top of the container and lay flat in the standing puddles of water.

  I heard the low laughter of two people as they came around the tool shed, laughing and talking. It cut off abruptly as they turned the corner and saw the back of the container.

  “Hoy, the fuck? You leave the door open?”

  “No, I dint.”

  I peeked over the edge of the container and saw a pair of men dressed in the same fashion as the other thralls at the dock: vests showing off the tattoos on their arms and necks.

  “Well, you better hope you didn’t. You saw what Sasha did to Nicolai. Man’s in a killing mood.”

  “I tol’ you, I wern’t leavin’ it open!”

  “Yeah? Who did, then? Sure as hell wasn’t me.”

  There was a coughing noise from the sand bank and the first speaker spun around with a grunt, a bloom of crimson high on his shoulder.

  “Eh?”

  A crack came from the top of the shed and the second man’s head exploded. I gasped and flinched back as gore splattered up the side of the container. Ores sat up from where he was lying prone on the roof of the tool shed and racked the lever on his rifle. The big bullet casing sprang from the breech and rolled down the roof, tinkling against the sheet steel.

  “Jesus Christ,” I sputtered. Something hot and wet had splashed across my face and I scrubbed at it with my sleeve, my stomach roiling.

  I rolled over to the edge of the container and found the ladder rungs with my feet. Ryan was coming from behind the pile, his gun still trained on the first one he had shot. I dropped to the ground as Ryan ran the
last couple steps and kicked the first man back into the mud as he started to rise.

  “Stay down, asshole!” Ryan commanded, “Or the next one is going right between your eyes.”

  The man’s lips peeled back in a wordless snarl, but he only propped himself up on his uninjured elbow and wiped the mud from the side of his face. “You done fucked up now, brother,” the man coughed. He pressed a hand against the bullet hole in his shoulder.

  “Where are the bodies of the possessed?” I asked.

  The man spat at me, a bloody glob that plopped into the puddle at my feet. “Go fuck yourself. Kill me, because if you don’t, I’ll hunt you down and pull your spine out of your back.”

  Ryan shrugged and shot the man in the other shoulder. I flinched as the man was knocked flat by the impact of the bullet. “I have an extended mag,” Ryan said conversationally, “and another two or three on me. Start talking, or I’ll start finding out how many bullets it takes to put a thrall into shock. And then I’ll kill you.”

  “You piece of sh—”

  Ryan shot the thrall in the leg and I heard his femur crack, louder than the muffled report of the rifle. “You’re not appreciating the nature of your situation,” Ryan said. He walked forward and stepped on the thrall’s broken leg, twisting his boot from side to side.

  “Jesus, Ryan.” I turned away, sickened.

  The thrall groaned in pain and I heard him writhing in the mud as he tried to escape the agony being inflicted on him.

  “Talk!” Ryan shouted. “Where are the bodies!”

  “Augh! Fine, fuck, I’ll tell you!”

  Ryan’s rifle barked again and the ghoul cursed. “I’m not hearing where the bodies are,” Ryan growled.

  “The alshari took them,” the thrall gasped.

  “Alshari?”

  “The ghoul,” I supplied, remembering the Arabic name for them from the forums.

  “See, that wasn’t hard. Where did the ghoul take them?”

  “Further into the refinery.” The thrall burbled a wet laugh. “You are either really stupid or suicidal to chase down an alshari.”