Wait…silver?
The coughing and wheezing stops with startling abruptness. Silence.
Oh, shit.
* * *
“Solo? Get inside, right now.”
“I can’t. Duo needs—”
“Get. Inside. And take Pete with you. These drones are throwing out some weird silver compound. It’s a gas. Get inside.”
Even over the busy line I can hear the terror in Solo’s voice. “Duo?”
“He’ll be fine.”
“But I can’t hear him. I can’t feel him, he’s…he’s gone. Duo.!”
“Please, get inside, Solo. We’ll find him when it’s all cleared, but you have to get inside now.”
Rayne finally finishes pulling me toward the buildings. Some of the urgency is gone, but she still looks as though she wants to tuck me inside her clothing for safekeeping.
The solidifying gas has left ashy flakes of white and grey smeared on her hair, face, and clothing. She looks like the victim of a house fire.
A pause, and then grunts from Solo. I hear him both explaining and reassuring who I assume to be Pete.
Okay, next. “Erkyan?” Two-second wait, then again. “Erkyan, talk to me. What’s happening?”
She sighs. “I have Willow. Safe, but can’t hear Duo now. He is quiet.”
“Can you guys get to him?”
“Yes…”
“What? I hear a ‘but’ coming.”
She sniffs. “The trucks we see? They are military. Many men inside climb out with guns and tactical suits. More come. Never seen so many men with weapons outside the SPEAR headquarter. Is this the Revival?”
“It must be.”
“Well, they block our path. And they gather all no-humans.”
Rayne chips in. “All edanes, or just werewolves?”
Another pause. “Werewolves not moving. They lie on ground, like dead.”
A heart-wrenching howl from Solo.
“Like dead, not true dead. The machine mist makes them sleep.”
“Did it hurt you?”
“Just werewolves.”
This is all happening so fast. I can barely think straight. Then, once more through the comms is the order to return to HQ.
More buzzing and mechanical whirring from above indicates the drones have moved on. The misty gas is clearing enough now for me to see the fallout. The humans, both police officers and SPEAR agents, are fine, if a little ashy and confused. The few edane SPEAR agents still out seem to be unfurling themselves from bent and cowed positions. A few crawl out from within cars or slip out of buildings. Some figures lie on the ground, silent and unmoving. It takes only a moment to realize these must be werewolves.
A closer look confirms the fact, one or two of them caught between shifts from their human forms to their hybrid ones. Their bodies are knotted and twisted in painful looking contortions, skin reddened and sore from contact with the gas. Not one of them is conscious.
Shit.
“Solo, please tell me you’re inside.”
Grumbles and then. “We’re inside. Some of that stuff followed us in. Chalks got an eyeful and can’t see shit. What the fuck is happening? Did SPEAR just gas us?”
“Not SPEAR,” Rayne mutters. “The military. Didn’t you hear? Project Revival is in force.”
“And what does that even mean?”
I’ve no idea. But I know who does and I mean to find out.
“Erkyan, you stay out there with Willow and try to retrieve Duo. We need him back in one piece.”
“Yes, of course. Ah, Willow says she maybe can wake him.”
“If you can, great, if not, get him inside. Don’t let anybody take him. Solo?”
He grunts.
“Stay inside with Pete.”
“Not much choice. He still can’t walk, Omega hasn’t shown up yet and if we go out there now, we’ll both get swamped by that stuff.”
“Let me know when Omega arrive.”
“You let me know when Duo is safe.”
I want to ask why he can’t check himself, the way the pair always seem to do for each other while we’re out. But now doesn’t seem like the right time for potentially antagonistic questions. Instead, I simply reassure him that I’ll do exactly that, then turn my attention to Hawk and Rayne
Hawk is on his feet again, though his chest and belly are smeared with the ashy remnants of the Project Revival gas. When he brushes it away, it flakes free like dandruff and dots his green feet with white.
“What are we going to do?”
“We’re going back to HQ. We need answers, and right now that’s the only way to get them.”
“Fine. Let’s go.” Hawk holds out his hands for me again, but I back up out of reach.
“No, no, no. No way. There’s enough of us out here I’m sure I can catch a lift.”
Hawk grins. “Wuss.”
“Damn right. I’m not built for flying.”
“You could be. All it takes is practice.” Still chuckling, Hawk vaults into the air and sweeps a wide circle around us. “See you back at HQ. I’ll save you a seat at the front, where the babies sit.”
I show him the back of my middle finger.
He flies off.
Rayne touches my arm. “Are you okay?”
I shrug her off. “No. I’ve cocked up. I should have paid more attention to Jack earlier.”
“What’s going on?”
Sigh. “I’ll fill you in on the way. Come on, let’s hitch a ride back to base.”
Chapter Seventeen
HQ is rammed; every agent field and otherwise packed into the atrium and lining the balcony looking down from the mezzanine. Dozens of faces I recognize, others I see only in passing when working admin or liaising with research teams. The confused chatter is loud enough to feel, a weight pressing down on my senses.
More concerning are the faces I don’t recognize, strangers in black and green, with caps angled down over their eyes. They hold rifles and though not one is raised right now, just seeing them makes me nervous. These aren’t SPEAR agents. They look more like soldiers.
Close to my side, Rayne eyes the crowd with a narrowed gaze. I don’t know what she’s looking for, but by the time she looks down to me, her forehead is wrinkled with a deep frown.
“There aren’t many edane agents here,” she whispers.
“Perhaps they’re still coming in.”
She nods but doesn’t seem to believe it. “Did Jack tell you anything else? Anything at all?”
I sigh. Though I wish I could tell her more, the brief outline I gave on the journey back is all the information I have. Project Revival is an emergency protocol, designed to kick in when edanes get “out of control.”
If anything is out of control, it’s Aleksandar and what he’s done with the Dire Wolf pack, but even I can tell this has moved far beyond that. I don’t know where the military teams are based, but for any large force to reach Angbec when it did, they must have been mobilized more than an hour previous.
A hush ripples through the crowd. Heads begin to turn. I angle my gaze to follow and find myself looking at Maury, who stands on one of the tables in the centre of the open space. With him, head lowered and hands clasped, is Jack.
My stomach flip-flops.
Both of them are filthy and smeared with blood. Crusted rust-red stains form an arc across Jack’s face and more of the same marks Maury’s arm and shoulder. Both appear exhausted, but at least they’re alive.
Maury extends a hand, and someone in the crowd passes him a microphone.
A burst of feedback crackles through speakers set in far corners of the open office, and then he begins to speak.
“Agents, thanks for coming in so quickly.” Like usual, Maury’s voice is calm and strong, authoritative and powerful. Now however, there’s something else there too, a weariness I’ve only ever heard after extended periods talking to me. “You all know by now that the werewolf population of Angbec has mobilized and that some kind of turf war is
taking place. At this moment in time, we don’t know what caused such a violent turn so if any of you have any information in that regard, we’d really love to know it.” He pauses long enough to scan the crowd. Can’t help but think he’s looking for me.
Apparently, Rayne shares the same thought because her hand closes around the back of my jacket and pulls. Just like that I’m bending, hunched enough to knock three inches off my height.
“Hey, you can’t—”
“Shh.”
Maury continues. “Mayor Jackson Cobé is here to explain more about what you heard over comms, the facts behind Project Revival. We don’t have much time, but it’s important you know what’s happening going forward.”
“You gonna tell us what that freaky weaponized gas was?” This voice comes from an agent I don’t know, somewhere on the left of the huge crowd.
Murmurs of agreement follow the outburst, followed by a few more yells.
“Are you trying to kill us?”
“My team dropped like flies. What are you trying to do?”
And on and on.
Jack, now holding the microphone, clears his throat loudly. But that isn’t enough to cut through the increasing barrage of questions hurled at those on the table.
“Are the wolves going to wake up?”
“Do you have weapons against other edanes or just wolves?”
“All right, agents, I need you all to calm down.” Jack speaks, but his voice barely carries, half lost because the microphone is held away from his mouth. “Agents…agents.”
“Why didn’t you warn us what was going on?”
“How are we supposed to do our jobs when you gas us with drones?”
Rayne maintains her grip on my jacket but leans in toward my ear. “He’s sweating.”
“It’s hot in here.”
“Not that hot. And look at the way his eyes are darting. He’s scared.”
“Vampire vision versus human, Rayne. I’ll take your word for it.”
Again he waves his hands. “Please, agents, please. Please—”
Another man vaults onto the table beside Jack and Maury. He’s a small, wisp of a man with tightly cropped grey hair, a neat little beard, and dozens upon dozens of stripes, colours, and pips on his epaulets. While Maury and Jack have clearly been out and caught in the mayhem, this man looks clean and collected, as though just stepping out of the house. He snatches the microphone from Jack, presses the thumb and forefinger of his spare hand to his lips, and whistles hard into the small device. The shrill sound pierces the complaining and questioning like a hot poker through plastic.
Silence. And then, “Right, you lot, I’m Colonel Benedict Addington, and it’s about time you learned some bloody discipline. When I’m speaking, you don’t. When I’m giving orders, you listen. When I’m done, you move out. Does everybody understand?”
More silence.
The looks on the faces of my fellow agents must mirror my own, but this Addington guy seems to take that as agreement because he nods once and continues.
“Your mayor, Jackson Cobé, initiated Project Revival at twenty-one-thirty-five this evening and—”
Jack darts in and leans over the microphone. “Under advisement from my team and from agents within SPEAR itself, I thought, given the purveyance of the werewolf problem and the sudden flux of activity from within Misona, that the best course of action was a preventative, pre-emptive strategy, and—”
Addington jerks the microphone to one side. “Are you quite finished, Mr. Mayor?”
Yikes. Even I can feel the bite in his tone.
Jack blanches and backs up super quick, returned to his lowered head and clasped hands position. He doesn’t speak again.
For long seconds Addington glares at Jack, as if daring him to open his mouth. Eventually he nods, squares his shoulders, and begins anew. “Project Revival, as initiated under the authority of Mayor Jackson Cobé, hands complete tactical and operational control of all extra mundane relations to myself and the Extra Mundane Control unit of the British Army. As such I’ll be leading and coordinating all operations for the foreseeable future. Any questions so far?”
“But who the hell are you? What about the general?” Despite having similar thoughts, I’m glad this voice isn’t mine. It comes from someone on the far side of the room, near the wall and under the roosts where the chittarik often rest.
Addington snorts. “General? How cute. Fine, your general is no longer in control of SPEAR. While Revival is in force all control operations are passed up to a higher, more suitable power, i.e. the EMCU.” His upper lips curls enough that even I can see it from way, way back. “You people have been allowed to run amok for long enough. It’s time we regained a little control over this oversized house party with guns.”
The murmurs begin afresh, only this time with an edge of anger.
“How long will you stay?” Another voice, this time one I recognize. It’s Noel, on the right-hand side and close to the table now serving as a stage. He looks scuffed and dirty but largely unharmed, though he has one arm wrapped around a member of his team sporting a saggy, bloodied bandage around her head.
“Until such time that our services and organizational superiority is no longer required.”
That’s a nonsense answer. I open my mouth to chip in, but Addington whistles into the microphone again.
“I speak, you don’t, remember? Now, the werewolf menace has been largely neutralized following the successful application of our drone based sedative. You agents will round up any werewolf stragglers and deliver them immediately into military custody. We have ample mobile units designed to detain and contain all manner of extra mundane threats including werewolves. Additional security in the form of military personnel will be situated around each containment unit now and until further notice. All other extra mundane agents are to report immediately to SPEAR holding facilities where you will be detained for debrief and further processing. You will disarm immediately and follow my units who will escort you under guard.”
Uproar.
Rayne’s own indignant response is lost beneath the abrupt swell of displeasure from almost every agent. Though there aren’t many werewolves among those gathered right now, there are plenty of sprites, pixies, gargoyles, and even a couple of vampires. Certainly not enough to outnumber humans, but more than enough to make their voices heard.
I hear expletives, cries of shock and fear, and the more general babble of disbelief.
Rayne’s grip slips away from the back of my jacket. “I don’t understand.”
“It’s okay,” I say at once. “He can’t do that. He just can’t. Even before SPEAR recruitment policies changed, no one has been able to segregate edanes like that since the Supernatural Creatures Act. It’s illegal.”
“I’m not sure those laws hold right now.”
Another whistle, this one longer and more piercing than the last.
“Listen to you.” Addington sneers down at us from the table. “Complaining like children. Shrieking like babies. Do you understand what’s happening here? What’s at stake? Your vows were to protect and serve, and I expect you to do exactly that. Those are my orders and you will obey them immediately. Anybody with a problem is more than welcome to speak with one of my soldiers.” A dark chuckle. “They’ll sort you out. Now…get on with it.”
He shoves the microphone into Maury’s startled hands, leaps off the table, and stalks away. As he moves, a small circle of uniformed soldiers closes in around him, a shield cutting off any attempt to reach or speak to him. The rest, posted all around the huge space, stand straighter and taller and shift their grips on their guns.
Fuck.
“Uh,” Maury clears his throat into the microphone, “you heard our orders. Um. We have a lot to do, so—”
“This can’t be right, Maury, no, no.” Again Noel’s voice. “All edane agents to be suspended?”
“That’s not what he said—”
“That is the reality, sí?”
Noel waves to encompass the other agents. “Our comrades are to be debriefed, but why? They know as much as we do. They can help.”
More murmurs of assent.
Maury makes calming, soothing gestures with his hands. They don’t work. “I know this is a bit of a shock, but we all need to calm down and take into account that this is the right thing to do. Remember we’ve never seen anything like this happen before, not here, not anywhere. We need help to contain all the werewolves who, apparently, have gone mad. Colonel Addington and his unit is here to help us all do our job.”
No. No way. Fuck that.
I grab Rayne’s sleeve and begin to back through the crowd.
“What are you doing?”
“We’re leaving. Before they lock this place down, come on. Let’s go.”
“But—”
“No. I’m not letting you go into SPEAR holding for debrief or whatever the hell that dick-stick said. Don’t you get it? They’re trying to clear all edanes off the streets. All of them, not just the wolves.”
Rayne trots along with me, still protesting as she comes.
“You haven’t done anything wrong and, fact is, we know exactly what’s happening right now. And we know how to stop it.”
Her fingers wriggle within my grip. “Then we need to tell Colonel Addington.”
“No, we need to get Wendy. Come on.”
* * *
Getting away from the atrium proves harder than anticipated. Sneaking around to avoid both armed soldiers and fellow agents means that by the time Rayne and I clear the area, the pair of us are tense as iron bars.
Right at my back, Rayne’s presence is a thick, solid weight. She moves with the cat-like smoothness of a vampire on the prowl, and more than once I catch the edge of silver glinting in her eyes.
She pushes me into the meeting room from earlier that day and pulls at the door. It doesn’t close, instead allowing a small slither of light to pour through from the corridor beyond.
Only now, away from prying ears, does she speak. “Get Wendy? What do you mean, ‘get Wendy’?”
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