Protected by the Damned BoxedSet 2

by Michael Todd

  Chapter Eight

  “Hell yeah!” The Enlightened was propped against the door. “We rolled in there and not one of them knew how to take it. After all the hype they met their match, and we made sure they didn’t just leave and forget that.”

  “Fuck, yes,” another agreed, his deep voice appropriate for his six-foot eight-inch body. “Did you see how I broke that one dude almost in half? He might have been the only casualty, but I’m pretty sure three or four of them will be drinking their breakfast through a straw for the near future.”

  The guys pulled their gear on and jacked themselves up for another ambush. They trained hard; harder than most of those in the military.

  Well, at least those in the Navy and Air Force. Those folks’ jobs didn’t require them to lug backpacks or kick in doors.

  These “Enlightened,” as Moloch called them, had sparks in their eyes for death.

  They were dangerous. While they compared themselves to the Damned mercenaries, they knew they had one advantage the others didn’t: they didn’t care about anyone or anything. They definitely didn’t care about the innocent, and that made them extremely dangerous.

  When their gear was on they sat and talked excitedly about the next mission. They were ready to go; they just needed information on where and what their targets were. All the Enlightened had pledged their lives to Moloch, and their demons had no outside touch with the world.

  They ate, slept, and breathed training, and they grew stronger every day—not just their human bodies but also their connections with their demons.

  Each day was spent learning new skills until they became muscle memory, and there were no rules or artificial constraints—like morality—that kept them from using them.

  “I keep picturing that one guy flying head-first into that cement wall.” One of the men laughed. “It was absolutely beautiful.”

  “On your feet,” Trenton, the leader of the Enlightened barked as he walked in.

  Trenton paced in front of the men, inspecting them from head to toe. Their eyes glowed bright-red and they stared forward like soldiers.

  Trenton was bigger than the rest, as well as angrier and smarter, and his demon was the highest-level among them. He had mastered his weapons, he learned faster than the others (if not by much), and Moloch looked to him to lead the troops.

  “All I heard from the hallway was gloating.” Trenton halted, his feet shoulder-width apart, hands behind his back. “I didn’t hear tactics. I didn’t hear silent contemplation. I heard childish giggling like you won some sort of fucking trophy.”

  “Sir?” Wilson, one of the Enlightened, spoke up. “To be honest, we all felt really good about how we handled the last op and how strong we have become. We are building commodities.”

  Trenton stared at the man like he was an idiot.

  The man next to Wilson leaned over just a bit and whispered, “It’s ‘comradery,’ dumbass!”

  Wilson spoke louder. “Building comradery, sir!”

  Trenton ran his tongue over his teeth before replying. “You don’t need comradery,” he responded, now nose to nose with the guy. “You need to follow orders. When you are out there you rely on yourself and the demon inside you—that is, after you rely on me to tell you what to do.”

  He looked at everyone. “That was our first fight, and yes, you did well, but you can do better. Next time will be different by leagues. They had no idea we existed during that first fight, but I can promise you that after the damage we did they all know about us now. They will not be caught with their pants down twice. They are skilled, experienced, and determined. I cannot have you underestimating their strength.”

  “Yes, sir,” they all replied.

  Trenton stepped back. “Now we have another mission, so make sure you are mentally and physically prepared. I don’t have any information on where we are going; Moloch is bringing us that. Until he gets here, I will answer any questions you may have, then we can go over some tactical moves.”

  “We heard a rumor that there are special weapons out there. Ones that can hurt us really bad,” one of the Enlightened said.

  “That rumor is true,” Trenton replied.

  There was a burst of whispered chatter.

  Trenton cut it off. “But if you think about it, if they can hurt us the weapons will hurt these Damned as well. You need to have faith in your skills, in your demons, and most importantly in Moloch. He will protect us; he promised that from the beginning. Sure, some of us may die in the process, but we will go down in history as heroes who fought for the freedom of everyone like us. The demons promise us a glory-filled future.”

  The mumbles were happy now, so Trenton let them continue.

  “My demon makes me feel invincible,” one of the Enlightened declared excitedly.

  “Me too,” another responded from the back.

  “Yeah, like I could run through the flames of hell and be okay,” another added.

  “They do have that effect, don’t they,” Trenton agreed. “But you have to remember that your demon may be invincible, but you are still human. Your body is fragile and breakable, and that is why your training is so damned important. You have to want it. You have to strive to be stronger and faster than those dickbags. You have to work out harder than the mercs, train harder than the mercs, and be smarter than the mercs. Tactics are key, and when you roll onto a scene and everything is going your way, you don’t let your guard down until every last one of those bastards has hit the ground and their breath has left their bodies.”

  Trenton flexed his muscles and enjoyed the adrenaline running through him.

  He was connected to his demon. He could hear the whispered discussions in his mind on how to kill the Damned. They were built-and-booted soldiers, ready to strike the Damned down without remorse.

  He and his team were their biggest threat in generations, besides the largest demons.

  The difference was that Moloch could create new Enlightened, but large demons were usually lost to the war when they were killed off—at least for the foreseeable future.

  The mercenaries knew things were changing, but they had no idea what they faced. Trenton knew that.

  He was out for blood, blinded by his own thoughts of glory, and determined to be Number One.

  General Brushwood looked out the window of his chopper and thought about Colonel Jehovivich.

  “Dammit,” he growled.

  He had worked with her for years, but this was the first time she’d had a solo demon-related mission. He hadn’t noticed the way she was before, and to be frank, he wasn’t too fond of it. He pulled the mouthpiece of his headset down and spoke to the pilot.

  “Can you patch me through to Internal Intelligence? I need to speak to the head of the department,” Brushwood asked.

  “Yes, sir,” the pilot responded.

  The general waited for someone to pick up.

  A woman’s voice came over the headset. “This is Major Gregory, Internal Intelligence. How may I help you, General?”

  “Thank you for taking my call, I was wondering if you would do me a favor,” he answered—as if saying no to a general’s request for a favor wasn’t a career-limiting move. “I have some questions about Colonel Jehovivich that I would like to keep between you and me for the time being.”

  “Of course, sir. What is your concern?”

  “I’m not sure,” the general answered, thinking about what his gut was telling him, “but she has recently struck me as being a bit too narrow-minded for the job she has been tasked with. I need to find out if there’s something behind it, and if these feelings she has can be changed.”

  “I can have her file transferred to my desk, General,” the major replied. “I will take a thorough look through her history and see if there are any red flags. I know that when you approved her transfer along with yours we didn’t do more than a cursory look.”

  “Understandable,” he answered. “And I would appreciate it if you could do that now. If there is
a concern, I want to head it off now rather than later. Things are becoming tenser here in this division, and I don’t want to question whether I can trust one of my closest advisors.”

  “Understood,” she acknowledged. “We don’t want to jeopardize the safety of others for something that could either be fixed or replaced.”

  “Exactly,” the general agreed. “I can wait up to seventy-two hours for the information. I have another crisis on my hands and I won’t be able to make a choice on replacing her until that time anyway.”

  “Perfect, sir,” she responded. “ I will make sure I brief you personally due to the sensitive nature of your request.”

  “That is very much appreciated,” he told her. “Have a good day.”

  Brushwood pressed the button on the side of his headphones and nodded at the pilot.

  He turned back toward the window and gazed out again, but there was something unsettled in the pit of his stomach. He had always thought Jehovivich was a bit pushy, but until Katie and the mercenaries had come into the picture she had been agreeable.

  There was something about the way she loathed them that was almost unnatural.

  Jehovivich pushed her views, overstepped her boundaries, and questioned the general’s judgment on a regular basis.

  He could deal with strong opinions, but what he could not deal with was someone constantly second-guessing him. He was the general for a reason, and it was really starting to take a toll on him.

  Jehovivich might be good at her job, or maybe had been good at her job but was starting to frazzle and fizzle.

  Their line of duty forced them to be on the top of their games and make hard decisions. He was sure he couldn’t trust her to do that.

  He sighed. “Dammit.”

  He didn’t want to replace the colonel, but if it was that or dealing with uncertainty—especially in a combat situation—he had no choice but to get rid of her.

  He still couldn’t believe how fast everything had changed.

  The demons were worse than ever, the government was aligned with mercenaries for pretty much the first time in history, and his team was struggling to keep up.

  It had gotten to the point where his mood sank every time his phone rang.

  Brushwood didn’t know when or where the next incursion would hit, but he had begun to accept the idea that a lot more would die before that war was over.

  He sighed one last time. “Dammit!”

  Charles Butler, the ammunition specialist tasked with helping Korbin’s Killers, sat in his temporary office talking to his boss on the phone.

  He had one last call to make before he was ready to leave for his new assignment. He had to let his primary company know how long he would be gone and give them whatever detail he could divulge.

  Which wasn’t very much, considering the secrecy of the mission.

  “I am expecting to be offsite for an extended period of time,” he explained to his boss. “I’m not even sure I can give you an estimate of how long. As far as the actual mission, there isn’t much I can say. I have been instructed by General Brushwood that this operation is under an information-blackout. I won’t be able to divulge any information about the mission before, during, or even after until the security clearance has been lifted.”

  “Right. I was part of a mission like this a long time ago,” his boss answered. “It’s hard sometimes to keep it all to yourself, but if they are labeling it as such I suspect there is a very good reason.”

  “Well, from the little I was told I understand the blackout,” Charles replied. “It’s amazing how different the world is sometimes. You learn some crazy shit when you get recruited by the military and read in.. Back when I served it was ‘shut up and do as you are told.’ Rarely did they give any kind of background or reasoning for their operations.” Charles laughed. “I definitely like it better on this side of things.”

  “Better pay, too.” His boss chuckled in agreement.

  “That’s true,” Charles said. “So you aren’t upset about the secrecy or the fact that I will be gone so long? If it becomes a problem I hope you will let me know. I can talk to the general.”

  Loaned to the government or not, he didn’t want to lose his job.

  “No, no.” His boss sounded supportive. “We serve the country. The military is our client and we are here to serve our client, not to get our information-junkie rocks off.”

  “Absolutely, sir,” Charles replied.

  His boss continued. “Let me know if you need us to do anything else for you. If anyone gives you shit, throw my name around and you should be able to find just about anything you need. I’ll text you my cell number and we will get things accomplished that way.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “You bet. Be safe out there,” his boss replied. “Talk soon.”

  Charles hung up and sat there perplexed for several moments.

  His boss had always been a bit of a hard-ass, and though he allowed his team to be contracted to clients, Charles had figured he would be pissed to lose his services for an undisclosed amount of time with no real explanation.

  He wasn’t sure why his boss was being so supportive. It seemed out of his character, and frankly a bit suspicious.

  Still, Charles was relatively new at the company and had been trying hard to get his boss’s attention.

  He’d finally gotten it. He told himself to stop dissecting every detail of his reaction, just enjoy finally being part of a team again. He had missed it a lot. Katie seemed to be a bit of a hard-ass, but he knew that she would eventually learn to trust him and allow him to do his job.

  These people protected civilians, which was enough to make him want to help.

  Though he had no idea what he was walking into, he really was curious to find out about this special metal they had talked about.

  Obviously it was something important, since the military had jumped on board and were handing over their civilian contractors to help in the effort. He just hoped he didn’t run into any of those rogue demons, whoever they were.

  They sounded absolutely terrifying.

  Chapter Nine

  As the helicopter came in for a landing, Katie looked out at the ranch.

  Cattle grazed in the fields and long stretches of open land and woods backed up to an old farmhouse. It wasn’t what she was used to seeing, and it was kind of nice to be somewhere that didn’t have sand and rocks as far as the eye could see.

  A bit better location than Grains-in-the-Ass, Nevada, Pandora agreed.

  You can thank your brother for that, Katie replied. We had a place closer to Vegas that was nicer.

  Wonderful. You are talking about Cactus-Spines-in-the-Tits, Nevada, right?

  Katie thought about that. Not many places that don’t have sand or cactus around Vegas.

  Bullshit! I’ve seen the commercials for Steep Village.

  Do what?

  Steep Village, on Lake Tahoe.

  That’s “Incline Village,” and yeah, it’s beautiful, but it’s up in the trees and stuff. What are you going to do about donuts? You wouldn’t be near any towns.

  What do you call living in Grains-in-the-Ass right now? It isn’t like there’s a fucking Krispy Kreme next door or anything. Hell, I’d even settle for a Dunking Donuts.

  It’s Dunkin’.

  What’s Dunking?

  The name of the place is ‘Dunkin’ Donuts.’ There is no ‘g.’

  Well, it can be dunk-your-stick-in-my-hole donuts for all I care. My point is we don’t have them now, so what the fuck do I care if our base is up in the trees? At least we wouldn’t be picking sand out of your…

  Stop! Katie sighed. Seriously? Do we have to go through names?

  Like vagina?

  Yes!

  What about coot box

  No.

  Silver-Tongued Devil?

  There is no silver!

  Might be when you get older, Pandora opined. I’ve never had my hair go silver, so I couldn’t tell you.<
br />
  Have you got this off your chest yet, Pandora?

  Oh, hell no. I’ve got dozens. Sure, you have the basics such as coochie, twat, and vulvita maximus. Then we move on to older versions such as Shakespearean words including house, case, pie-corner, porridge, and French weathered pear, although let me tell you that you DON’T want to be called that one.

  What the hell? Katie interrupted. Shakespeare?

  Yeah, nice enough guy, although he sucked in bed. I suggested French weathered pear myself. That’s why I know it’s a good one.

  Are you kidding me?

  Perhaps? But probably not. He really was just shit in bed. Of course, then there’s altar of Venus, for obvious reasons, continuing with Netherlands—have to say I love that we have a whole country named for our private parts. Is there a country named Penis? I thought not. Moving on, you have phoenix nest, Mrs. Fubbs’ parlor, and a personal favorite, lady’s low toupee.

  That’s…kinda funny.

  I know, right? There is the beloved road to christening, pink pearl, and then we segue into more erotic versions such as flower, canal, and pool of moisture. A few funny ones…

  How many do you know? Katie asked in exasperation. I bet I don’t even know five!

  Well, that was before me. Get into a game of “Name the Sex Organ” on TV and we will sweep it, I promise. Back to me before you interrupted, and we have cock sock, penis glove, and cock pocket. I just love alliteration, very poetic… Cookie nookie, and banana basket.

  Holy crap.

  I know, right? I got more. Let’s go with gross.

  Let’s not.

  You have any donuts?

  No.

  Chicken nuggets?

  No.

  Then you are on my time. Gross for $400, Alex: cum dumpster, sperm bottle, cum craver, and the ever-awful goop chute.

  Have you had enough? Katie sounded a bit desperate.

  No. I’ve got about another hundred and twenty I think.

  Let’s save that for a rainy day…say the tenth rainy day in a year?