Fallen Stars

A novel of the Demon Accords

By John Conroe

For Barbara H. Conroe:  9/1/31 – 1/14/13

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Epilogue

This book is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel either products of the author’s imagination or are used factiously.

Copyright © 2013 John Conroe

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

The Demon Accords

God Touched

Demon Driven

Brutal Asset

Duel Nature

Fallen Stars

Chapter 1

“Badonkadonk? What the hell is a badonkadonk?” I asked my companion.  We were standing in the parking lot of a country western bar in Asheville, North Carolina and the band inside was singing about honky tonk badonkadonks.

My partner sighed at my ignorance of country slang, swiveled on one foot, and pointed at her own anatomy.  My eyes were directed by one slim finger to view a rather perfect female butt, clad in skintight jean shorts.

“Oh!” was my artful reply.  I jerked my eyes back up to her smirking face, thanking the V-squared virus for darkening my skin to the point where a blush won’t show up.

“What’s the matter, hero?  Why’s your face so hot?” she asked sweetly.  Damn, forgot she could see thermal patterns as well as I could.

The problem was that Stacia was a magnificently attractive girl, as noted by a middle-aged fella who walked into the side of an F-150 pickup, much to the annoyance of his wife, as they approached the bar.

Being drop dead gorgeous wasn’t a crime so much as the fact that she was so in my face with it all the time.  If I were single, it might be different.  Would likely be different.  Aw, hell, it would most definitely be different.

But I’m most assuredly not single.  In fact, I’m bound tighter than bark to a tree to the most beautiful vampire on the planet. She also happens to be one of the most deadly creatures to roam our world.  My companion Stacia’s not helpless; she is, after all, a werewolf.  But against Tatiana Demidova, she would be a baby to an NFL linebacker.  But Tanya wasn’t here, and I didn’t know when I would get to see her again.  I still have a hard time picturing myself as a guy with more than one girl. Hell, for most of my life, I didn’t believe I could have even one girl. I’m the anti-player.

“Why are we meeting the Pack here?” I asked, looking away from her platinum-blonde-framed features and studying a couple of good ole boys who were studying Stacia.

“It’s neutral, well-populated, and apparently one of their regular spots,” she answered, her voice going matter-of-fact but her green eyes still gleaming.   She checked the fall of her flowing white shirt, glanced down at her rich brown cowgirl boots, adjusted the brim of her straw cowboy hat, and then gave me a scowl.  I knew what it was about.

“Don’t start.  I’m not a cowboy, don’t own the boots, hats, the shirts, or the slip-string neckties.  Besides, this isn’t bad is it?” I asked, waving one hand at my jeans, work boots and tee shirt.

She studied me critically, then smiled.  “No, you’re fine.  Better than fine, but I was just wishing your shirt was a bit more fitted—tighter.”

She spun around and headed toward the door, leaving me standing there looking stupid.  Stupider.  I watched for a split second, caught up in how her badonkadonk was swinging in time to the band’s beat, then shook myself.  She knew I favored loose clothes.  I have a hard enough time trying to stay under the radar.  Emphasizing my V-squared-enhanced physique was so not helpful in that regard.  Of course, Stacia failed to stay off anyone’s radar, and she preferred it that way.

I glanced at the third member of our little group, met his soulful brown eyes, and immediately got defensive.  “What?”

Awasos looked away and then trotted to catch up with Stacia.  On four large wolf feet, it only took him a couple of seconds.

I caught up with the both of them as the bouncer at the door was shaking his head.

“Absolutely not.  No animals in the bar,” he said firmly.  About six-four, two-hundred forty pounds, with a bald head and wearing all black, he looked more like a biker than a country-western type.  Sitting on a stool, he had one size twelve engineer’s boot on the floor and one on the lowest rung.

“Please?  He’s my guide dog,” Stacia pleaded, a sexy pout forming on her lips.

He looked like he might be wavering, but then I showed up and he got all by-the-book on us.

“No. Absolutely no animals,” he repeated.

“Hell, you’ll have to throw out half the customers if that’s true,” I said, looking past him at the rowdy crowd.

“Listen pal, those animals pay.  This…monster doesn’t!”

Before he could go any further, Awasos jumped forward and pressed his nose up against the man’s leg.  Then he backed his furry bulk up and gave one short chuff before spinning around and trotting back into the parking lot.  The good ole boys who had followed us (well, Stacia, anyway) veered out of his way in a hurry.  Something about Shetland-pony-sized wolves running at you will do that.

“Uh oh!” I said, watching my wolf disappear into the parked cars.  “You’ve offended him.  Shit! Not again!”

“Damn,” Stacia agreed softly.  “Sorry, but it was your own fault for calling him a monster,” she directed at the bouncer.

“What?  What’s he doing?” the big bald guy asked.

“He got your scent, so now he’s tracking down which car or truck is yours,” I said.

“What’s he gonna do when he finds it?” Baldy asked.

“Well, he kinda ate the last one,” I said regretfully.

“What!”  Bouncer man took off into the parking lot at a dead run, pulling a key fob from his pocket as he went.  Almost immediately, Awasos came running from the side of the parking lot, having circled around.

“Did you find it?” I asked him.

He woofed once softly.

“Did you pee on his radiator?”

Another woof.

“Good boy! Baked-on wolf pee has a half-life of like a year! Let’s go,” I said, ignoring the incredulous looks from the good ole boys.

I led the way through the door, my senses coming online as I entered potentially dangerous territory.  Grim was lurking just below the surface of my awareness, ready to take over if things went to shit.

Awasos came next, just in front of Stacia, who sighed at our demonstration of aggressive tactical entry.

“You know, the purpose of a liaison is to liaise.  Not hang back at the end of the line,” she complained.

“Humpf.  The purpose of an industrial-grade monster smasher and his furry sidekick is to protect.  We can’t do that from behind.”

Awasos woofed at me.

“What?  You’re not the sidekick?”

He woofed again, making several people jump sideways.  The panic left their eyes a bit when they saw he had directed it at me.

“Oh, so what?  I suppose you think I’m your sidekick?” I questioned.

He woofed in agreement and trotted past me to take point.

“How does that feel, hero?” Stacia asked, watching me.

“About par for the course,” I answered, absently watching my furry pal point the way to the back of the giant bar, where a group of eight werewolves were playing pool and watching the booty-swinging girls on the dance floor.  A couple of the ladies near the dance floor were also wolves, bringing the total number of weres to ten.  My ability to spot vampires and weres wasn’t showing any other supernaturals in the place.

The group at the pool tables had spotted us, or at least Stacia.  It was fun to watch their attention lock on her like guided missiles, then shift to the real wolf, then finally me.  Their posture went from horny males to territorial wolves in a split second.

The bar was a wood-framed single-story structure that had a massive main dance floor with a stage centered along one wall. The entry had brought us in at one corner of the rectangular space, with the stage wall to our right and the fifty-foot oak bar ninety degrees to our left.

The pool tables were beyond the bar diagonally from where we stood, tucked into the far corner.

“Alrighty, Miss Liaison, shall we do this?” I asked.

“Let’s,” she agreed, moving up beside me.

Chapter 2

I checked out our potential clients as we worked our way around the thumping and bumping crowd on the dance floor.

One of the men was huge, easily dwarfing the bouncer we had bypassed at the door.  He had to go close to six-ten, well over three hundred pounds, but I knew he wasn’t the leader, just muscle.  Lots of it, though, straining his Toby Keith tee shirt to its limit.

No, I pegged the Alpha as the blond-haired guy with the beard who was seated at the table closest to the pool game.  His gray eyes were focused completely on me, after sparing a glance at Stacia and the wolf.  The others were either watching my liaison or my wolf, their expressions ranging from open admiration (for her) to shocked outrage (at him).

“Ned Granger?  I’m Stacia Reynolds and this is Chris Gordon.  My Alpha, Brock Mallek, sends his regards,” my partner said, walking straight past two of his pack and stopping directly in front of the bearded blond.  Two female weres, one short brunette, the other a redhead of medium height, approached from the dance floor to our right, just slightly behind us.

The two front weres ignored Stacia but growled at my wolf in warning.  He stopped and sat on his furry rump.

“Yo fellas, leave him be.  He’s still a pup,” I said.

That caused them to look up and growl at me.

“That’s better,” I agreed, smiling.

Stacia spun and shot me a worried look, making a little settle down motion with her hand.  I stopped, feet spread and arms crossed, standing just slightly ahead of my wolf.  Awasos glanced at me then scooted his rump slightly forward till he was just ahead of me.

“Like, that is it?” I asked before looking back up at Stacia’s glare.  “Oops, sorry.  Go ahead, Stace.”

“Anyway, Brock sends his regards and hopes we can be of assistance,” she said to Ned.  His expression was curious, neutral, and slightly tired.

“Welcome, Stacia and Chris.  And who is this who comes to us in four-footed form?” he asked, a rebuke crouching somewhere in his words.

“This is Awasos, who only has four-footed forms,” I said evenly, understanding that weres don’t like to draw attention to their world by doing things like appearing in wolf form.

“What?  What the hell does that mean?” said a lean six-footer standing just behind Granger and to his right.  Granger was frowning, the hidden rebuke now fully visible on his face.

“Ah, he means that Awasos isn’t like us,” Stacia said.  “He doesn’t have a person form.”

“I don’t do word puzzles, Mr. Gordon, Miss Reynolds. I simply don’t have any patience left for them,” Granger said, flicking his right index finger once.

The giant took two steps forward and grabbed me by the neck with both hands and lifted me straight off the ground.  I weigh over two hundred pounds, but he didn’t seem to be straining at all.  Stacia looked at me wide-eyed as I struggled to control Grim. Multiple death sequences were offered for my approval before giant-man foot had completed the first step.  They ranged from crushing his skull to decapitation and arm removal.  I vetoed all of them.  Grim offered a non-death resulting version.  I agreed.  He executed it.

I suppose I was intended to squirm and holler, generally showing my helplessness.  Instead, I went still as Grim turned my head to stare at Granger, the Alpha, even as his minion showed strain on his huge face and now trembling arms.  Slowly, inexorably, his arms were pulled down, as if my weight had doubled, tripled, quadrupled in seconds.  As if some unimaginable force was Pulling me down.  Something, like, say, vampire energy techniques.

My feet touched ground and I grabbed his wrists, breaking his grip on my throat.  Both my arms shot forward and slammed his steamer-trunk-sized chest.  The big fella flew nicely, sailing over the pool tables and slamming into the wall in a very satisfying manner, crunching the sheetrock.

Next, Grim grabbed Stacia by the hips, picked her up, and put her behind us.  The maneuver was fast but not full speed.  Still, the pack looked shocked.  Stacia sighed and walked back about twenty feet to sit on a table.

“What are you doing?” I asked, frowning.

“This is a new shirt.  I don’t want it spattered with blood,” she said, starting to text on her phone.

The band had stopped playing when I threw the goliath.  Now the entire bar watched as I held my conversation with Stacia.  The wolves had started to move forward but stopped, puzzled, as I held up one hand but otherwise ignored them.

“Yeah, I get the new shirt thing, but you’re still too close.  You need another fifteen or twenty feet to avoid blood sprays.  Trust me. I know.”

“I’m good,” she said, not looking up this time.  I sighed and turned back to the Pack.

“I tried to tell her, so it won’t be my fault, right?” I asked the growling group.

Before any of them could answer, the shorter female werewolf walked past me and slapped a very startled Ned Granger.  She was a were, so the slap had real power.  It almost knocked him out.

I stood, frozen, as did all the others, watching the confrontation.  Granger was shocked and uncertain, never a good look for an Alpha.  She swung her hand back to strike again.

“Rose, stop!” he said, grabbing her hand.

She yanked free, still spitting mad.

“You swore you would get help for our girls.  You swore, Ned!” she shouted loud enough to echo across the bar.

“Afina told me that this man –" she pointed at me, “—could save our babies!  And you attack him?  I will, so help me God, leave your useless ass if you fail our children, Ned Granger!”

“Rose, I was just trying to get answers for him bringing a were in fur,” he said, on the defensive.

“The Malleks told us he was unusual…remember?  They said he would have a different kind of companion and that he was insanely dangerous!  And you had to play games with him?”

“Rose..” he began, but she spun away from him and approached me.

“Mr. Gordon, please help us—please help me?  My babies are taken…in the hands of something evil and we can’t do anything to stop it,” she pleaded, grabbing my shoulder lightly, ignoring everyone around us.

“That’s why we came, ma’am,” I said.   If she was facing a demon problem involving children, I wasn’t going to abandon her. I was suddenly faced with the memory of a teenage girl slipping away from life, bleeding out in my arms.  Her killer was equally dead, but I still ranked it as one of the worst failures of my life.

But my less-than-warm welcome had pissed me off.

“It’s the stupid posturing of an Alpha who can’t protect his own children,” she said.  Behind her, Granger’s face was a painful mix of anger and anguish, but he said nothing.

I took a step back, studying the small, distraught woman in front of me.  A bit over five feet tall, she was pleasant looking but not eye-catching like the redhead who was with her.  And certainly nothing like Stacia, but she had a presence, a force of personality that I could literally feel.

I looked at Granger, who, despite the anger, looked more worried than I had ever seen an Alpha look.  The others were also all worried and even scared.  The hostility they had exhibited when we first walked up had been a mask for their other concerns.

“What did you mean when you said your babies?” I asked.

“We have twins, girls, Polly and Cassi.  They’re both in trouble, as is another child of the pack.”

The band decided the drama was over, so it started playing a song about a "Red Solo Cup".

“You’ve got three children possessed?” I asked, whispering the last word.

“Is everything okay here?” a voice asked from behind me.  Two individuals were standing even with Stacia but looking at the rest of us. A male and female who wore jeans and casual Polo shirts but looked completely official despite the clothes, as in federal type official.  The male was about six-two, dark-skinned, and muscular.  The female was Asian and equally fit.

“Yes, Agent Krupp, we’re fine,” Rose said, her voice firm as she spoke to the woman.

Behind the two agents, I could see a group of similarly attired federal types approaching a table next to the bar.  They were all watching us carefully even as they took seats.

“Are you sure?  It seemed like there was a…disagreement brewing,” Agent Krupp noted.  Her big companion said nothing, but he seemed very curious about me.  Stacia, who looked up briefly from her texting, flexed one tanned leg in front of her like she was stretching a muscle.

To his credit, the male agent didn’t glance her way, but the struggle was evident in his eyes.

“No. Mr. Gordon is considering doing some consulting for us,” Rose said.

“And just what do you consult in, Mr. Gordon?” Krupp asked me.  She was an intense personality, with frighteningly intelligent eyes, watching everything at once.

“Ah, spiritual stuff,” I fumbled.

“He’s psychic,” Stacia offered from the side.  I gave her a look, and she shrugged and went back to texting.

“Psychic?  So you’re here to solve the murders for us?” Agent Krupp asked, bemused, with one eyebrow raised.

Murders?  I went still for a moment, thinking it through.  When Stacia had originally told me about this job, she had mentioned both demons and murders.  We didn’t have any other details, which was what the meeting tonight was supposed to provide.  All I knew now was that there were three possessed children.

The group of feds at the bar were talking quietly and the band chose that moment to take a break, which let me listen in with my enhanced ears.

“- who are those two that the Steel Flower and Dison are questioning?” one of the two males asked.

“I don’t have a clue, but I’d like to be the one questioning him!” the blonde female said.

“Okay, deal!  I’ll take the blonde and you take the muscle dude and Connor here gets the dog.”

“Seriously, I thought we were here to keep an eye on the splinter group?” the other dude, who was most likely Connor, said.

“You mean what’s left of them.  I see Simon. He’s just to the right of Granger.  And the redhead is over by Mrs. Granger.”

“She’s not in danger. The unsub never killed any of the females in the splinter group, but I see one other just behind the hulk there.”

I glanced back at the were pack and spent a few precious seconds noting body language.  Now that I studied it closer, the group looked like two groups thrown together, neither fully meshing with the other.  The tall guy near the Alpha who had been so pissy about Awasos might be Simon.  The redhead the feds mentioned had to be the hottie standing with Rose Granger, and there was a real young looking guy, almost hidden behind the goliath.

I glanced over at Stacia and noted the screen of her smart phone was pointed in my direction, deliberately.  Impossible for a regular human to read, but I could easily make out the text message written on it, as she intended. The contact name at the top of the screen was Big Momma, which was her nickname for Afina.

‘New pack joined Asheville Pack a month ago.  Members of that pack have been murdered one at a time starting in Kentucky where they are from.  Murders were in public place and crossed state boundaries so FBI is on case.’

“I’m not here for your case, Agent Krupp.  Mrs. Granger has some issues with her home—you know—feng shui and all that,” I said.  “But I’m glad to know that the Bureau has assigned one of its Behavioral Analysis Units to the job.”

Her eyebrows lifted slightly at my guess, but she didn’t contradict me.

“Agent Krupp, as my wife indicated, there is absolutely no conflict here.  We are delighted to have Mr. Gordon and his companions here in our establishment,” Ned said.

Their bar?  Interesting.

At the word companions, Agent Krupp glanced at Stacia and then looked down at Awasos.  Well, not down so much as sideways, as his head wasn’t much lower than hers in his sitting position.

“It’s illegal to have animals in a dining establishment, Mr. Gordon.  In addition, he appears to be a wolf.  You do have the proper permit to own such an animal, don’t you?” she asked.

“Wow, things must be slow if the Bureau is sending a Behavioral Analysis Unit out to check dog tags,” I commented as I pulled out my wallet and the set of tags I keep tucked in it.

Agent Krupp frowned at the dog tags in my hand, then reached over and pushed my open wallet down so she could glance at my license.  It was just a fast glimpse, but she seemed the kind of agent who memorizes details at a glance.  Great!

Finished with me, she then turned her attention to the tall, lanky Simon.

“Mr. Masten, Agent Dison and I have a few more questions for you,” she said, redirecting her attention to the others.  I stepped back out of the way, clearing the way for the two agents to get to Simon.  I was more than happy to have her attention on him.  The less the government and I interacted, the better. Unfortunately, Special Agent Krupp didn’t seem the type to be diverted once her curiosity was aroused.  And her sideways glance at me as she moved past indicated that she was still very curious about me.

“So Mr. Gordon, will you come look at my problem tonight?” Rose Granger asked me, trying to be nonchalant but not quite able to cover the desperate tone in her voice.  Agent Dison glanced at her, frowning.

“Sure, Mrs. Granger.  We’ll follow you.”

Chapter 3

The Granger house was a massive, stacked-stone mansion on the outskirts of Asheville, tucked at the end of a cul-de-sac.  The property appeared to occupy a multi-acre parcel that backed up to a thick forest.

“Nice digs!” I noted as we got out of the car.

Stacia, who grew up in a fairly low-income family, tried not to be impressed.

“Most weres live over two hundred years.  Plenty of time to accumulate money.  I would be worried if it wasn’t a McMansion.  And the whole Pack contributes to the Pack headquarters,” Stacia said.

Ned Granger got out of his Escalade and looked pointedly at our vehicle.

“Nice Volvo,” he said dryly.

“Well, it doesn’t stand out like some people's rides, but that’s what we want.  It’s also big enough for him,” I said, flicking a thumb at the furry beast beside me.

“Well, it probably beats my gas mileage,” he said begrudgingly.

“Yeah it’s not bad,” I said.

Rose and Stacia were both looking at us with disbelief.  Guys and cars, what can we say?

Mrs. Granger led the way into the main foyer, moving past a number of weres who stood around with worried expressions.

I immediately felt a wave of darkness roll over my senses.  Something truly evil occupied the house.  Stopping in place, I did a slow circle with my eyes closed, getting the lay of the land, so to speak.

A demonic evil was clustered at the top of the house, up on the third floor.

At least ten people were staring at me when I opened my eyes.  The giant from the bar was there but his expression was neutral, not hostile.

“Okay, so the problems are all on the third floor, right?” I asked.

Ned looked slightly startled, but nodded agreement.

“The house was built by a famous architect in 1926.  We bought it a year ago and renovated the old servant quarters on the third floor into a suite for our twins.  The Pack children tend to sleep up there with them during overnight events like Moon Runs.”

“At least, they started to do sleepovers up there, but the children were always tired and whiney the next day, complaining about noises and monsters in the closet,” Rose added.

Were children are not usually concerned with monsters under the bed, as their parents are monsters.

I walked over and felt the nearest wall, letting my senses ooze into the plaster.  The interior decorating was top notch, but the house was bad.  Rotted at its core.

“Do you want to see the girls?” Rose asked, starting for the grand staircase.

I held up one hand.  “In a moment.  I want a bit of background.  I’ve never come across a multiple possession in the same house before.”

“But you can fix it, right?  You can save our babies?” another female asked, a tall brunette with red-rimmed eyes.

“This is Lisa.  Her daughter Lindsey is the other child involved,” Rose said.

The giant had moved up close to Lisa, and I recognized that they were mates.

“You are?” I asked him.

“Jep.  Lindsey’s father,” he answered, his voice ridiculously deep.

“So tell me about this architect?  Who was he, what else was he into?” I asked.

“His name was Scott Lloyd.  He built many of the big mansions in Asheville in the twenties,” Granger answered.  “But what do you mean about what he was into?”

“This house is off.  Sour.  Twisted right through its core.  It’s been this way for a long time—I can tell.  I would imagine there are stories about it being haunted.”

Several of the people around the room were nodding, but they stopped when Granger’s frown touched them.

“There are almost always ghost stories about older homes, Mr. Gordon.  I discount them as a matter of course,” he said.

“Some of them are real.  This guy, Lloyd, was he into the occult and séances and shit?” I asked.

“How the hell would I know?” Granger said, a little angry.  “I didn’t move to Asheville until the Seventies.”

“Ahh, actually he was known to be interested in magic and the supernatural,” a voice interrupted.  A young male were, still in his teens, stepped forward and glanced apologetically at his Alpha.

“This is Malcolm, my wife’s nephew.  He’s our resident Know-it-All,” Granger said sourly.

The kid flushed but kept his gaze on me.  Brown hair, brown eyes, tall and thin like he was still growing into himself.  His skin was perfectly clear though, a happy side effect for those who are born were.

“Tell me about him,” I asked.

Clearing his voice nervously, the kid nonetheless started to speak, settling into a rhythm in the first several sentences.

“Lloyd was fascinated by anything paranormal.  He hung out with mediums, psychics, and even bragged about knowing witches.  He held séances and occult ceremonies here, especially around the solstices and equinoxes. Halloween was a big deal here.”

“How the hell do you know all this, Mal?” Granger asked, frowning and turning to Malcolm.

“I did a paper on him for English.  We had to pick a local historic figure, and you had just bought this as the Pack headquarters,” he said with a shrug.  “Got a ninety-three on it.”

“So when did the possessions start?” I asked, still looking around.  My eyes were constantly drawn to the ceiling by the blackness I felt up there.  It was the strongest presence of evil I had ever felt, and I was looking for as many answers as possible.

“The girls complained about the noises a lot when we moved in and seemed to find reasons not to sleep up there.  About a month ago, Ned put his foot down about them sleeping in our room and ordered them to stay up there.  They had no choice,” Rose said, her tone clear on who she blamed for the situation.  Weres have no choice but to follow their Alphas' direct orders, even the children.

“They also found the box about then,” another female said.  Middle aged, which for weres meant she was really old, she was a short, Hispanic woman with a set of nasty scars on one arm.  She was likely a bitten were, rather than one born to it.  Born weres don’t scar, unless the wound was caused by silver.

“What box, Puebla?” Granger asked, eyebrows raised as if hearing this for the first time.

“We had a house cleaning, remember?  The children were helping me in the basement, and they found a loose set of stones in the wall with this wooden box inside.  Dark oak or something.  It had an old lock on it, and it was pretty small,” she said, holding her hands into length and width dimensions that would fit a small paperback book. “They dragged it to their room but couldn’t get it open.”

“And no one thought to bring it to me?” he asked darkly.

“Actually, they did, and you said they could keep it,” Puebla answered.

He frowned, but then you could almost see the moment he remembered.  “Oh,” was his only comment.

“How did Lloyd die?” I asked the kid, Malcolm.

“Ah, it’s a bit of mystery.  He died in this house, actually.  In his bed.  Had some kind of massive cough thing and basically spewed his own lungs out.  He was a big smoker, so it was probably emphysema or something.”

“Or something,” I agreed, looking back up at the ceiling.  “Okay, let’s go see the girls.”

Chapter 4

The stairway to the twins’ third floor suite was located just outside the master suite entrance, which made sense.  The kids’ rooms were old servant quarters, and the master of the house would want his staff handy to his quarters.

A door off the hallway, just outside the Master bedroom archway, opened to a steep set of stairs.  The top of the stairs was shut off by another door.  The lighting was minimal and left the closed door in dark shadows, like something from every horror movie Hollywood had ever produced.  You just knew that nothing good could be waiting behind that door.  It didn’t help that loud bumps, bangs, and screams were audible from where we stood, looking up.

“You appear hesitant, Gordon?  Mallek told me you could smash any demon!” Granger demanded.

I felt one of my eyebrows arch on its own.  “You know much about demons, Granger?  'Cause I’ve been fighting with them all my life.  You know any easy ways to exorcise three of them at once without hurting their victims?  I assumed you tried the Catholic priest route?  How’d that turn out?”

“Father Preston never came back down,” Rose answered for her husband.

“Fantastic,” I muttered.  “Alright, everyone stay down here.  I’m gonna recon the situation and then figure what I might need for help.”

I started up the stairs followed by Awasos.  “You’re gonna wait just outside the door till I get the big picture,” I told him.  He gave me a dark look, but I thought he would abide by my order.

The banging and screams got louder till we got to the top of the stairs; then everything went quiet.  That was kinda standard.  The demons could hear me climbing the stairs and were now waiting for some fresh meat to toy with.

Nearing the top step, I glanced back down the stairs behind, a sea of anxious faces staring up at me.  As soon as I reached the door, I popped it open, slid through it, and shut it tight behind me, right in 'Sos’s face.

The first room was a sitting area with girls clothes strewn over the modern furniture mixed with books, various electronics, and one open makeup case.  The doorway beyond was open but completely dark, and I could literally feel the heavy presence of strong demons on the other side.

Moving closer to the door, I could just make out a human leg on the floor, the loafer-encased foot pointed my way, the rest of the leg leading back into the dark.  Based on its size and the black pants, I was assuming this was the Priest, Father Preston.  I squatted down and touched the bare ankle, feeling for any kind of a pulse.  The blackness beyond was complete, but when I switched to thermal vision, I could see that the body in front of me was almost totally cool and three child-sized outlines of yellow and red awaited me, lined up in a row, perfectly still.

The room stank of shit, piss, vomit, and fear.  There was also a very heavy sulfuric stench that sharply bit at my sinuses.  Thermal vision gave me the outline of everything in the room, from the two double-sized beds to the matching dressers, vanities, and chairs.  But seeing heat patterns doesn’t help with human faces, so I couldn’t tell much about their expressions.  Two of them were wearing shorts and tee shirts, the other a knee-length sleep shirt.  Two evenly matched for height and size, the third much taller.  Three sets of heads tilted to the same side at exactly the same time, considering.  I realized that they couldn’t see me, my unique nature cloaking me from them, but they knew someone was there by the sounds I was making.

The priest was lying on his back, his neck bent at an unlikely angle.  I stepped over him and moved closer, considering my options, still scanning the room.  Between the beds, a small box lay open, the outline of an old-fashioned book lying open on the floor.  Then I noticed a new concern.  There didn’t appear to be a wall behind the beds.  It was as if the back wall of the room had been sliced off, excised from the building, leaving an open box of a room.  The opening where solid sheetrock or plaster was supposed to be was inky dark, darker than even my thermal vision could see into, and I found I couldn’t look straight at it although I tried.

My observations were interrupted by a flying chair.  It lifted itself up and launched at the doorway, the children apparently tired of waiting for me to make myself visible.  I dodged it but had to duck again when an entire vanity tried to occupy my personal space.  Darting toward the girls, I reached to grab the closest, one of the twins by her size.  The demon driving her sensed something at the last moment and moved, striking out with a child-sized arm.  That little arm packed a pretty decent punch, with enough power to slow me minutely.  It was enough to allow all three girls to dodge in three different directions: right, left, and up.  The other chair lifted itself at me at the same time the biggest child swiped a claw-studded hand at me, shredding my tee shirt and drawing blood.

“You!” they all hissed at exactly the same time.  Her physical contact had made me visible to them; recognition was instantaneous.

I succeeded in grabbing the partially transformed, fur-covered hand and yanked the girl toward me.  That would have gone smooth like ice, except one of the dressers smashed me sideways, breaking my grip.

This wasn’t going well.  They fought as a single entity, using both the bodies they controlled and their own demonic telekinesis.  I focused on the one on the ceiling, punching my aura toward her and pulling on the demon inside.  The whole child came instead, along with one from each side.  Clawed hands ripped my back, arms, and chest as all three sliced and diced me.

I made an instant tactical decision, the best I could come up with under the circumstances…I got the hell out, moving vampire fast, too fast for them to follow, and was out the door and in the stairwell in the blink of an eye.

Awasos was sitting on the nearest steps watching me calmly.  The faces below looked expectant.

“Well?” Stacia asked.

“I just got my ass beat by three little girls,” I replied truthfully.

“That’s not very reassuring,” she answered.

“Yeah, well, time for some new tactics,” I agreed.  “But first, how old are the girls and when did they become able to Change?”

“They’re all twelve and they won’t be able to Change till about sixteen or seventeen,” Granger answered.

“Not even partially?” I asked.

“Hell no!  That takes years to master.  Why?” he asked.

I pointed at my bloody, shredded shirt, noting with some satisfaction when the light of realization struck them.

“How strong is the floor?”

“Huh?  It’s really strong.  Lloyd built to last,” Granger answered, confused.

“Strong enough to hold twelve hundred pounds or so?” I asked as my hand found ‘Sos’s head and ruffled the fur, which reassured me more than him.

“Probably.  Why?” he asked.  I waved him off, looking down at my fuzzy pal.

“New plan.  We go in, you change and keep furniture and were demons off me while I grab them one by one. No squishy the girls, got it?”

His brown eyes flashed molten red and he huffed.

I glanced down at Granger and the hulking Jep.  “I need you two up here on the steps.  I’m gonna grab each girl, get rid of their hitchhikers, and hand them down to you.  You pass them down to their mothers.”  I watched to make sure they understood. They nodded.

“This is gonna get loud, real loud.  There will be growls, curses, even, mostly from me. I suspect there will be some roaring,” I said with a glance at Awasos.  “But no matter what you hear, you must stay here!”

The both nodded again.

“Right, then.  Let’s do this,” I said, more to myself than anyone else.

I opened the door and Awasos rushed through, Changing forms in mid-step.  Two feet into the room, his body waivered and blurred, then expanded from a mere two-hundred, seventy-five-pound wolf to a twelve-hundred-pound Kodiak bear.

The three demon-ridden little darlings had been waiting for me just inside the door, obviously listening to my little pre-game speech.  But they couldn’t understand about ‘Sos and his other form.   His massive new body filled the sitting room to overcapacity and shocked the children of the corn into fleeing in all directions. Furniture flew at us, but I ignored the overstuffed chair aimed at my head, confident in my partner.   The chair met a turkey-platter-sized paw and immediately disassembled itself into splinters, foam stuffing, and shredded material.  The demon were-child that had mentally thrown it met me somewhere in the vicinity of the ceiling.  She clung to the sheetrock and I got her back, as they say in jiu-jitsu.  Having your opponent behind you is a bad position to be in.  If they do it right, their legs are locked around yours and their arms are tight across your torso or, worse, wrapped around your throat in a choke hold.  I did it right but skipped the choke in favor of forcing my aura from my right hand up through her body and Pulling the stinky, gooey-black demon crud onto my left hand.

As soon as I broke the hellspawn’s grip on the child, her ability to cling to the ceiling vanished and we fell.  I landed softly on my feet and I switched her totally to my right arm, lifting the left and flicking the blob of evil up.  Kirby answered my call instantly, snatching the load of devil crud and hauling it to Hell.  One down.

Awasos had crushed the remaining chair and ottoman to scrap while deflecting the other demons, who screamed in rage at the demise of their partner.

On the stairwell, Granger took charge of the first child, which was one of the twins.  His eyes were wide but he stayed steady.  “I smell bear?”

Ignoring him, I darted back into the room to find the remaining two separating and coming at my bear from different directions.  The larger one took his back as he swiveled to watch the other twin.  Hands formed into wolf claws, the demon started to shred fur and bear flesh.  ‘Sos handled it like a champ, ignoring the pain and wounds and instead turning so that I could easily take the demon child from behind and roll its roofing-tar essence up and out.  Kirby caught the second offering, flapping out of earth’s dimension. Two down.

Granger snatched my burden from my arms and I all but flew back in to help my pal.

The last kid was pinned under a huge front paw, thrashing and twisting hard enough that the tiny human body was in danger of snapping its own spine.  I moved across the room and squeezed the putrescent essence from the little girl, throwing the black snot ball to my shadowy God Hawk friend.

The last Granger twin safely in her father’s arms, Awasos and I turned back to the room.  It still reeked of evil and despair, not to mention piss, shit, and vomit.  The missing back wall was still missing, and the swirling blackness promised pain and misery.  Houston, we have a problem.

Poor Father Prescott was still lying broken and dead on the floor.  There was no way I could leave him there.  Grabbing his ankle, I pulled him toward the door.  Then he sat up.  I decided to let the hell go of him.  The shattered bones in his broken neck grated as his head bobbed upright and his sightless eyes fastened on me.

“Christian—you grow more like us by the hour,” his mouth said.

I freaked out a little bit.  I’ll admit it.  Hell, that was some damn creepy shit!  I could say that I made a tactical evasion, but if you had seen it, you would likely say I jumped backward and landed on my ass.  The God Tear necklace went from body temperature to burning hot in a split second.  Acting on instinct, I grabbed the necklace with my left hand and pushed a blast of aura out with my right.  The Hellbourne riding the good Father’s body scrabbled toward me on the floor, but the corpse shot straight back from the force of my blast and right through the space where the wall was supposed to be.   It just fell into the swirling black, spinning smaller and smaller while the Hellbourne laughed, till it was gone.

Chapter 5

The men were still on the stairwell, as was Stacia and the young were, Malcolm.  The mothers had taken the girls to clean them up.

“Okay, near as I can tell, you’ve got some kind of gateway to Hell in there,” I said to Granger.

“Can you close it?” he asked.

“I don’t know the first thing about it.  My gut instinct is that the book the girls found played a role in the whole ripping a portal to another dimension thing.  I want to collect that and then regroup, probably tomorrow. And Ned…I wouldn’t recommend that anyone stay in the house tonight.”

He looked at me seriously from under heavy brows but finally nodded.  “What do you need?”

“I need some silk, about a foot square or so, and something heavy duty like a fireproof box or safe.”

“There’s a firesafe in the office,” Jep rumbled.  He turned and left immediately.

“I know my wife has silk, but I don’t know where it is,” Ned said.

“That’s okay, I got the silk,” Stacia said, immediately unbuttoning her white blouse.  Under it, she wore a white cami that I realized was probably made of silk.  She pulled the bottom of the cami free and then held up her right index finger.  The long, manicured nail shifted under her focused stare, lengthening and becoming a wicked claw, which easily sliced through the white cami, starting just above her abdomen.  She cut as far as she could reach, then looked at me for help.  Forming a mono-edge on my own finger, I completed the cut around behind her and back to her front, ending up with a tube of silk material that would be sufficient to cover the book.  Stacia sighed as she handed it to me, left standing in her short-shorts and what was now essentially a white silk tube top.  Ned was staring at her in amazement, but I wasn’t sure if it was just because of her six-pack abs or the clawed finger she was willing back to normal.

“How long have you been a wolf?” he asked her.

“About two years or so,” she said with a shrug.

“Hmmpf,” was his only answer as he turned back to me.

“Okay, I’m gonna go get the book, then we’ll close this till I can come back tomorrow and do something about it.”

“I thought you didn’t know what to do?”

“I don’t, not yet.  But I know someone who will know.  I’ll see him tomorrow,” I said, turning back to the open door.  'Sos was waiting for me just inside, anxious.

“Okay, buddy, let’s grab this book and beat feet,” I said, heading into the bedroom and between the beds.  The book was partway out of the box, so using the white silk like an oven mitt, I shoved it back inside the little wooden container, closed the lid, and wrapped the whole thing in Stacia’s torn cami.  Awasos changed back to wolf form as we crossed the room.

>Come back again soon, Gordon.  We miss you<   The voice came from the swirling space where a bedroom wall used to be.  We didn’t answer, just hurried our pace out of the room.  The door slammed itself behind us.

Jep was standing at the base of the stairs, holding an inexpensive home firesafe in his hands.  The lid was open, and it had been emptied.  I dropped the silk-wrapped book box into the safe and closed the lid.  A mono-edge on my right hand sliced the lock and bolt handles off, and my right hand on the exposed mechanism generated enough aura to fuse the whole thing shut.

“Okay, Stacia, there’s a floor lamp just inside the Grangers’ bedroom.  Grab it for me please,” I asked.  She nodded and took off in a blur.  Ned and Jep were staring at me a little wide-eyed, but I ignored it and soldiered on.

“What do you need a lamp for?” Jep asked.

“I’ve gotta keep that door shut and people out of it.  That’s a death zone in there.”

“What happened to Father Preston?”

“He left…the planet.”

Stacia brought me the lamp and I sliced off the top and bottom, both cuts at sharp angles.  Then I cut the three-and-a-half-foot tube in half.  One sharpened piece was driven through the door and jamb at angle above the knob, the other just below.  Two eighteen-inch spikes to nail the door shut.

“Mr. Granger, I highly advise everyone to leave this house tonight.  Tomorrow, I’ll see if I can’t close out your death portal to Hell, but it would be a very bad idea for anyone to stay here.”

“I heard you the first time,” he said tiredly, brushing one hand through his hair.  There probably hadn’t been much sleep in the last few days.

“Where are the girls?” I asked.

“Our mates are cleaning them up,” Jep rumbled.

“Okay, I gotta run out to the car for a minute.  I need to give each of them something.”

Stacia looked at me with raised eyebrows, but I just shrugged and headed outside.  The trunk of the Volvo had what I needed, and I brought a whole handful inside with me.

“Jewlery?” Granger asked, puzzled by my Zuni fetish necklaces.

Holding the whole bunch in both hands, I channeled a strong flow of aura into the soapstone animal figurines that hung from individual leather thongs.

“Come on, Mr. Granger…bling is always a good idea, particularly for girls that have been through a lot,” Stacia said with a smile.

“Speaking of little girls, where might they be?” I asked.

The two weres led us through the master suite to the apartment-sized walk-in closet and attached master bathroom.  The three girls had been washed clean and were all dressed in clean clothes.  All three looked shellshocked.

“Hi girls. My name is Chris and this is Stacia.  We have some gifts for you.”

I held out the bundle of necklaces, watching their eyes as they focused on the tiny animal figures.  They looked spacey and tired, but in my experience, that was a very normal reaction.  The two mothers hovered near them, torn between wanting to protect them from strangers and recognizing that those strangers had just saved them.  Awasos pushed past all of us and flopped down at the girls’ feet.  Instantly, all three dropped to the ground and started to pet him.

I handed half the necklaces to Stacia and held the other half in both hands to better display the variety.  “Why don’t you each pick one?”

The twins reached almost as one for two of the necklaces in Stacia’s hands.  A bear and a wolf were the choices.  Awasos gave me a smug look as Stacia put the leather thongs around their necks.  The third girl, Jep’s daughter Lindsey, chose a badger from my right hand.  Her mother helped her get it over her wet hair.

“Now, there are two very important things about these necklaces.  First, you must keep them on at all times, okay?  And second, you each need to name your animal.”

The jewelry picking and furry wolf petting had revived them enough that their natural spunk was fast returning.  One of the twins looked me in the eye, put one hand on her ten-year-old hip and announced, “Naming a necklace?  That’s for kids!”

“Actually, these necklaces will protect you from the things that just haunted you.  Naming them makes the necklace stronger.”

All three girls looked at me with big eyes while their worried mothers tried to rein in their sudden fear at my words.

“Mine’s name is Hugo,” the twin with the wolf said suddenly.

“Mine is Ollie,” Lindsey said.

After a pause, the other twin pointed at Awasos.  “What’s his name?”

“Awasos.  It’s Abenaki for bear.”

“Then mine is named Awasos!”

The damned wolf at their feet smirked at me.

“Okay, ladies and gentlemen, why don’t each of you take a necklace as well,” I said, handing out one to each of them.  Jep’s wife, Lisa, reached for another bear, this one a bit bigger.  I pulled it away.

“Oops, sorry. That one is taken.  My fault.”

She shrugged and grabbed a mountain lion instead.

“Okay, we’re gonna go find a motel or hotel.  We can regroup tomorrow.”

Granger stepped forward with some cards in his hand. “Gordon, the Pack owns a motel not far from here.  We’ve already arranged rooms for you there, and they won’t give Awasos any grief.  We’ll spend the night there as well and maybe we can meet for breakfast in the morning?” he said, handing us each a card.

It had the hotel address and logo on it, as well as a number and his signed initials.

“Great. We’ll see you in the morning,” I said, glancing at the wall clock. “Or I should say later this morning.”

They said goodbye, their faces a mixture of expressions.  Jep’s broad face was forthrightly grateful as I took the safe from his arms; his wife’s was a mixture of weariness and fear. Rose Granger’s was tear-streaked but unbelievably happy, her arms clutched around her daughters, who looked at their new necklaces with curiosity.  Ned’s face was thoughtful as he nodded goodbye to both of us, and the young Malcolm was slightly awed whether he looked at me or Stacia, but likely for different reasons.

“You stink,” my partner said as we headed to the car.  “I’ll drive and you can sit on a couple of garbage bags.”

I was covered in crud from wrestling the three filthy demon children.  Awasos was clean as a whistle, a result of Changing forms.  The rapid change in shape and mass left all the dirt and filth behind.

“Fine, as long as we swing through a KFC for a couple or three buckets of chicken or so.  I’m hungry.”

“You’re always hungry!  Worse than any were in the whole New York pack!”

She drove and I navigated, first through the nearest fried chicken emporium my smart phone could find, then to the hotel.

“Oh yeah, by the way, this necklace is for you,” I said, handing her the bear necklace I had held back.

“Wow, and you saved the biggest for me!  You charmer!’ she said with a smirk.

“Yeah, since you’re hanging around me, you’ll need more protection than any of the others.”

Her smile vanished as she realized what my gift meant.

Chapter 6

Travel bag slung over one shoulder and chicken buckets stacked three high, I followed Stacia into the hotel office.  The girl behind the desk—a were—was expecting us.  She simply handed us two key cards and pointed us down the hall.  Our rooms were on the first floor, just off the lobby. I immediately headed to the bathroom, bringing all the food with me because I didn’t trust the gleam in 'Sos’s eyes.

Fifteen minutes later, I was back out, showered, and dressed in sweats and a tee shirt.  Awasos and I immediately started in on the chicken, devouring a bucket each.  We left the third bucket alone, but were working our way through some of the side dishes of macaroni and cheese, mashed potatoes and gravy, as well as some biscuits when a knock on the door announced Stacia.

She smelled of shampoo and lotion, her hair wrapped in a towel. She was wearing a knee-length sleep shirt that seemed a bit demure for her.  However, as she headed across the room toward the third bucket, I realized that thin cotton can cling almost as well as silk. Despite the more interesting views, I still noticed that she was wearing her new necklace.  It appeared to be her only bling.

“You better have left me some chicken!”

“We haven’t touched that one, but I hope you weren’t set on getting any mashed potatoes?”

“Bastards!”

My hunger mostly abated by the earlier feeding frenzy, I climbed onto my bed and watched her attack the poultry.  She might not be in same eating league as my furry pal and me, but she was no slouch, as she systematically destroyed most of the bucket by herself. 'Sos and I watched, waiting to see if she left any behind.  Suddenly, in mid-bite, she stopped and threw her half-finished piece toward the beast by my feet. “Done!” she announced.

Sos snapped it out of the air and still beat me to the remaining food, but we managed to work out a division of the last three pieces without bloodshed.

“You two are something,” she laughed, watching our negotiations.

“We each burn something like ten thousand calories a day, more if we’re active.  Eating is only slightly behind breathing for importance.”

She nodded, then looked thoughtful.  “So—gateway to Hell?” she asked suddenly.

I paused in mid-bite.  “Yeah, that’s what I think it is.  Deep swirling hole, demonic voices, disappearing bodies. You know, the standard stuff.”

She didn’t say anything for a moment, instead settling on other double bed and drawing her legs up to her chin, her nightshirt pulled down to her ankles.  I’ve seen other girls do that.  I call it an upright fetal position and it usually (in my humble opinion) indicates uncertainty, vulnerability, and some anxiety.

Awasos seemed to get the same impression; he jumped up on the bed and curled his wolf bulk around her.  The effect was immediate, as she leaned back into his mass and relaxed her arms a bit.

“So what now?”

“Tonight, not so much.  We only stopped for one short meal break on the way down, drove all day to get here, and then faced down the children of doom and the FBI.  So we go to bed,” I said.

She arched one eyebrow suggestively.

“Sleep!  We go to sleep!” I clarified.

She laughed, enjoying my discomfort, then got serious again.  “Can you close it?”

“I honestly don’t know.  I’m pretty sure that there’s gotta be a way and my source for info is tied into the top, so we should be all right.”

“Tied into the top?” she asked.

I pointed up to the ceiling.

She looked up, then mouthed an oh! of realization.  “I could feel it when you exorcised each of the girls.  Even down on the second floor, it was very clear.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that it’s pretty obvious,” I said.

“So you’re really God’s Chosen warrior?”

“That’s what I’m told.  I don’t really talk to the Big Guy myself,” I replied.

“Why not?  I mean shouldn’t you be all Bat phone from God and all that?’

I shrugged.  “There’s no employee handbook. I don’t even remember an interview.  Just bam, you’re now the Demon Hammer.  Well, actually, first you gotta have your family hacked all up by a demon, you know, to instill the proper motivations and all,” I said, attempting glib.  It came out more than a bit bitter.

“I heard something about that.  I was pretty messed up over losing my Dad in Iraq. I can’t imagine hearing your family get ax...er...murdered,” she said with a shake of her head.

I just barely stopped my knees from pulling toward my chin.  Men do not ever assume the upright fetal position!  Against the Guy Code.

“So who do you talk to?  A priest or rabbi or someone?”

“Someone,” I agreed.

She pinned me with narrowed emerald green eyes.  “So what, you can’t tell me?  I’m not trustworthy?”

I sighed.  “No Stacia, that’s not it.  It’s just that my life has gotten really crazy over the last couple years.  I have a hard time processing everything.  It’s just easier to go with the flow than to stop and dissect it all.  So I have a hard time saying some of it out loud,” I said, then went on in a rush.  “My main contact is an Angel, alright?”

She didn’t say anything for a moment, just digested that little snippet of information while studying me carefully.

“Which one?  Michael?”

I shook my head.  “Barbiel.”

“Oh, I remember that name.  Can’t remember much else, though,” she said.

“You know of Barbiel?” I questioned, incredulous.

Her eyes flashed green fire.  “What, you think I never set foot in a church?” she said, instantly offended.

“Whoa there!  I’ve never met anyone other than a couple of priests that had heard that name before.  I’m not judging you.”

“Yeah, right!  Like you guys don’t all judge me,” she said.

“Wow, where did that come from?  I tell you I get my pre-game pep talks from an angel and you think I’m judging you?”

She stared at me for a bit, still frowning, still angry.

“All my life people have judged me, mostly on my looks.  They always think dumb blonde or she must be a slut because she looks like that.  You and your buddy Chet think I’m some kinda slut, don’t you?”

“What have I ever done or said that would make you think that?” I said, thoroughly shocked and now more than a little offended, myself.

“You’ve been standoffish with me since we met.  You always act like I’m about to ruin your virtue or something.  And Chet?  Well, he as much as said he thinks I sleep around.”

I studied her for moment while I fought my temper back into place.

“Did it ever occur to you that I might feel just a teensy bit guilty that you’re infected with the LV virus and I could have prevented that?  That my fuck-up caused you to become a werewolf for the rest of your life?  Oh, I’ll admit that I figured you know more about sex than I do, but then, I figure almost everyone knows more than I do.  I mean, after all, look at the circumstances of our meeting.  You were pretty much in the middle of a hook-up.”

She blushed at that, but I held up my hand before she could speak.

“But so what.  Attractive people have more opportunities for relationships; that’s just how it is.  But I never thought you were slutty or dumb.  I pretty much thought you were likely the bravest person I had ever met…faced with a fucking werewolf ripping through your tent, biting your fucking leg and then listening, in pitch black, to a freak like me kill it for shits and giggles.  Then you opened your mouth and pretty much everything you said was calm and intelligent.  Standing naked in a thong with a bite outta your leg and you were calmer than I was.  So, no Stacia, I haven’t judged you to be slutty.  I never even heard of you dating any of the Pack.  But men swarm about you like flies and you handle them like an orchestra director.  You’re completely matter–of-fact about your body, while I’ve mostly lived like a monk.  So if I come off as standoffish, you might take some of that into consideration.”

She started to come back with a comment but stopped herself, instead staring at me intensely, brow furrowed.

“You are attracted to me!” she said suddenly, like a light bulb had gone off over her head.

“Ah, earth to Stacia…come in, Stacia.  This just in…everything male is attracted to you!  Of course I find you attractive. What’s that got to do with anything?”

“You’ve never hit on me,” she said, uncertain.  “I thought you found me repulsive or something.”

“Stacia, I’ve been with Tanya since before I met you.”

“Like that ever stopped any guy from hitting on me,” she said with a snort.  I frowned at her.

She sighed, blushed a little, and then explained. “People started to compliment my looks when I was a little girl.  Then, at eleven, I started to develop and males started to check me out, which was creepy as hell.   Boys my own age right up through high school guys.  But the grown men were the creepiest.  People I had known my whole life started to stare.  By the time I was sixteen, I had been approached to be a stripper three times and one guy wanted me to shoot porn movies.  My uncle, the cop, took care of him.  Got some other troopers to pull him over and search his car.  They found lots of illegal stuff, kiddie porn, drugs, all sorts.  I’ve been propositioned by married men, college guys, town officials, you name it.  Almost every guy I’ve met since puberty comes on to me at least a little.  Except gay guys and you.  But you didn’t set off my gaydar.  Then I find out that you’re God’s Chosen and I figured you thought I was a whore or something.  Of course, you were dating a blood sucker, so that was hard to swallow.”

“Hunting demons has been my whole life, and I’m actually pretty damn good at it.  So they go after anyone I get close to.  I never had a girlfriend before Tanya.  I met her when she was attacked by a demon, so there didn’t seem to be any worse damage I could do.”

She fingered the soapstone bear around her neck.  “You’re worried about drawing demons to everyone you meet?”

I nodded.

“Why didn’t you give me a wolf necklace?  The wolf would fit me better,” she observed, changing the topic.

“But the bear is my totem animal,” I replied.

“Oh!  So this bear dude hanging around my neck is a proxy for you?” she asked, eyes gleaming.

Suddenly nervous, for no apparent reason, I tried to clarify.  “Sorta. It’s probably mental imagery or something, but it helps me to pack more power in some fetishes than others,” I said.

“Fetishes?  I kinda like the sound of that,” she smirked.

“Not that kind of fetish, Stacia,” I said in a hurry.

“So my little bear fetish is you?” she asked, voice suggestive as she looked me in the eye.  She was holding the bear between two fingers and now she pulled her night shirt open (a bit farther than strictly necessary) and dropped the bear down between her unencumbered breasts.

I found my throat was suddenly dry and the room was stuffy and hot.

“Well, long day tomorrow.  We should get some shuteye,” I said, heading for the door.

My hand was already on the knob when I remembered that we were in my room, not hers.  Embarrassed, I turned back to her smirking face.  She was now lying back against the wolf with her legs stretched out in front of her, the thin cotton clinging and emphasizing when it was supposed to be covering and hiding.  She smiled at me, obviously enjoying my discomfort.  Climbing smoothly to her feet, she patted Awasos on his head then padded across the room, brushing by me as she got to the door.

“Good talk, hero. Let’s continue this at breakfast.  I’ve got lots of questions.”

She slipped out the door, holding my eyes with hers as she gently closed it behind her.

I breathed out a huge breath, suddenly aware that I had been holding it.

Awasos watched me as I picked up the empty chicken buckets and put them outside the door.

“What?”

He just put his head down on his paws and closed his eyes.

I turned out the lights and climbed into my bed, but it took much longer than normal to fall asleep.

Chapter 7

“Slide over.”

“Good morning to you, too, Stacia,” I said, getting a glare in response as I shifted one chair over.  Stacia wasn’t her best early in the morning.  Ned Granger’s eyebrows rose in an amused expression as he watched our little byplay.

I poured her a cup of coffee from the pot on the table, then passed the cream and sugar, both of which she applied liberally.

“Ned was just about to tell me about the murders,” I said around a bite of sausage.

“About a month and a half ago, Simon Masten, the other Alpha at the bar last night, called me.  His pack was based in Kentucky.  He asked permission to visit my territory with some of his pack: three females and three males.  I agreed,” Granger explained.

We were in a private conference room in the hotel. It had several tables laid out for breakfast, but we only occupied one.  The three of us looked as one to the door that was suddenly shoved open by a massive arm. Jep held it for the teenage waitress who was serving us.  She came through with a tray bigger than she was, loaded with breakfast plates.  Jep’s other arm held a similar tray, this one with extra platters of bacon, sausage, scrambled eggs, hash browns, and toast.

The redheaded girl quickly placed heavily loaded plates in front of Ned and myself.  I also got a smile to go with my food.  “Thank you, Jetta,” Ned said to the girl, who nodded and grabbed two more plates of food, one of which she set in front of Stacia with a tight-lipped smile, the other on the floor in front of the furry ottoman by my side. ‘Sos got a pat on the head, then the young human was setting additional food on a table next to ours so we could easily reach it. Jep settled in next to Granger with a huge platter for himself.

“Ya need anything else, Mr. Granger?” the girl asked with a soft Southern accent. She was cute, young, and wore too much perfume.  Her hair was a deep red, long and wavy.

“I think we’re good for the moment, Jetta, but maybe check back in a few minutes,” he answered  glancing with amusement at the extra food I was piling on first my plate and then Awasos’s.

The girl left, and Granger continued to speak.

“I’ve known Simon for about ten years, ever since he took over the Kentucky pack.  We got along fine, but he bore watching.  Anyway, he shows up here a few days after we spoke but only has two males with him.  Then I find out the third was murdered a day after he called.  Not only that, but the two he has with him are his last male weres.  The others have all been killed off, one at a time.”

“How were they killed, Ned?" I asked, reaching for a third piece of ham but getting my hand batted down by Stacia, who snagged it for herself with a slight growl.

“Gunshot wounds to the head.”

“Silver bullets?” I asked.

“Well, no not really.  Sorta,” he said unhelpfully.  I raised eyebrows at him but kept eating.

“.38 caliber lead bullets, but they were hard cast and the lead alloy had some silver in it.  The bullets were delivered to the brain stem from real close and there was enough silver to count.”

Stacia turned to me.  “Silver in lead?”

“Some companies cast lead bullets for reloading cartridges.  They sometimes have trace amounts of silver for extra hardness,” I answered.

“Isn’t a lead bullet a lead bullet?” she asked.

“Is Jimmy Choo just a shoemaker?” I asked her back.  “There are soft, cheap lead bullets for target practice, and there are high-end, hard-cast, flat-nose bonecrushers  that are suitable for killing dangerous game like Cape buffalo. Those bullets are usually an alloy, not pure lead, which is super soft.  Silver is pretty hard, and it mixes well with lead and tin.”

Both Granger and Jep were looking at me, surprised.

“Gun stuff was part of my formal education.  But back to the murders.  Someone was executing Simon Masten’s weres, only the males, with single gunshots to the head?”

“Yeah.  The murders were very public and law enforcement got involved.  Then one of the two guys with him got whacked down here, across state lines, and the FBI showed up.  There’s just Simon and one other male left.”

“But nobody is killing the girls?” I asked.  He shook his head, grimacing.

“What?” I asked.

“It’s just that I’ve never seen a successful Alpha treat his women like slaves or third class citizens.  He leaves them out of everything.”

“Any notes or phone calls?”  Another head shake.  “Video?”  Shake.

“What about the coroner?” Stacia asked, pouring herself some more coffee.

“The one here in Asheville is part of the Pack, so we’re covered.  There were six kills in Kentucky.  The first two happened in the woods, and Masten just left the bodies and filed missing person claims.  The third happened outside a bar at night.  The local coroner was underfunded, under trained, and not real curious.  But the next three kills happened over several weeks in public places like bars, parking lots, and such.  I don’t know what happened with those bodies, but Masten called me right before the sixth kill.”

“Where was the murder down here?” I asked.

“In an alley outside a popular restaurant.”

“Nobody heard the shot?”

“Nobody heard anything.  Simon Masten and the remainder of his pack were inside the

restaurant.  One of the guys left to use the men’s room and somehow got shot outside.”

“And you want us to investigate?  To help your friends?” I asked.

He grimaced.  “Simon Masten isn’t my friend.  I don’t really like the guy.  Treats his women like shit.  But now there is mega attention on the whole thing.  Agent Krupp is some kind of serial killer expert, and it’s now a big deal.  The quicker it goes away, the less damage.  We don’t want to move territories.  Brock said you get visions of crime scenes?”

“Sometimes, if they’re supernatural crimes,” I replied.

“Gordon, I’m can’t tell you how grateful we are for saving our children.  But I gotta ask, with no offense intended, what the hell are you?” Granger asked.

“He’s a bona fide gift from God!” Stacia said with a smirk before I could answer.

I gave her a glare, but it bounced off like she was coated in Teflon.

“I’m an oddity.  But I still need to get that Hellgate in your kids’ bedroom closed.  And deal with the book that I think might have created it.”

“Yeah, it’ll be tough to sell that dump with demons streaming into it.  We’re gonna house hunt today for a new place.  Let me know how you make out,” Granger said.  “But Gordon, even if you can’t help with Masten’s problem or get the gateway closed, what you did last night… well, I don’t think I can ever begin to repay that debt!”

“Nothing to repay.  It’s what I do.”

He nodded and got up.  “Still, don’t be afraid to ask for anything you need – anything!”

The big guy, Jep, paused before following.  “What he said!” he rumbled, reaching over and gripping my forearm.  He nodded at Stacia and Awasos, then followed his boss.

“What next?” Stacia asked, sipping her coffee.  I split the last of the food on the table with ‘Sos and stacked the empty platters for the young waitress.

“Next, we make some phone calls. Then it’s time for church.”

“Ahh, Mr. Gordon, good morning!  And Ms. Reynolds, is it?” a voice said from the doorway.  Agent Krupp looked in, a grim smile on her face. Behind her stood another agent, a dark-haired female who hadn’t been at the bar.

“Hello, Agent Krupp.  You just missed Granger!” I said, pointing out the door.

“Oh, I didn’t miss him.  I was looking for you,” she said, still smiling.  It was not a heartwarming smile.

“Oh, well. Would you like some coffee?  I’d offer you breakfast, but Ms. Reynolds ate it all,” I said.  A small foot kicked me under the table.

Krupp entered the room, her eyes scanning everything.  She pulled out a chair, and her partner grabbed the other one.  She was wearing a dark gray pantsuit, her companion pressed khakis and a dark blue polo shirt.

“This is Agent Mazar,” she introduced while pouring coffee for herself and the brunette.

Mazar was taller than her boss, with black eyes and olive skin, a Middle Eastern look to her.  She nodded at both of us but didn’t say a word or attempt a handshake, just sipped her coffee and watched us over the rim.

“So, to what do we owe the honor?” I asked.

“Well, Gordon, I was curious about you and Ms. Reynolds.  Occupational hazard.  So I ran your names through the system.”

“You don’t say,” I commented, pouring out the last of the coffee and holding the empty pot up for Jetta the waitress to see.  The young girl nodded and disappeared, hopefully to get more.

“I have to say it was a unique experience for me.  Not only did I immediately hit both a Department of Defense lockout, but the laptop we used to make the request was frozen remotely.  Then the phone started ringing—a lot.  Four calls, to be exact.  The first was from Homeland Security, a deputy director.  He wanted to know the circumstances of my inquiry—in detail—then warned me to leave you alone.  Then I got a call from a Director Stewart, of Oracle, curious about you.  He was also full of helpful warnings.  Next up was a Gina Velasquez, referred by DHS, who asked a whole passel of detailed questions.  I got a little short with her.  Not my best moment, but I’m not used to being questioned about my investigations.  She’s very calm, that one.  I told her I was investigating serial murders and asked if you were a likely suspect.  You know how she responded?”

I shook my head, thinking it couldn’t be good.

“She asked how the victims were killed.  When I explained single gunshots to the brainstem, she assured me it wasn’t you.  You know, Gordon, I’ve asked that question probably a thousand or two times in my career and the response is always no, there’s no way Johnny could ever kill anyone.  But this time?  It was not if you could kill, but the manner of the kill.  Frankly, I was a bit dumbfounded.”

“Well, don’t they say that everyone has the ability to kill?  Wouldn’t she have been wasting your time by saying I was a great guy and wouldn’t harm a flea?”

Krupp did the whole inscrutable thing, not giving away any emotions.  Then she continued without acknowledging my comment.  Her companion just watched.

“I pressed for details about you, and she just deflected the whole lot of them, like a damned hockey goalie.  Then, like the others, she warned me.  But her warning wasn’t about hassling you. No. She said to leave the wolf and the blonde model here alone.  Said I could rough you up; in fact, I think she may have been encouraging it.  But she was clear as day that I should avoid these two.  Why would she say that, Gordon?”

I frowned.  “Why would you hassle a wolf, anyway?  Makes no sense to me, Agent Krupp.  I mean, I can understand giving Stacia a hard time, because she’s… well, Stacia, but the wolf?  I don’t get it.”

Stacia smacked my arm.  She meant it, so it ended up sounding like Mark McGwire knocking a baseball into the stands.  Both agents raised their eyebrows at that.  I tried to ignore the sting.

“Gordon, I wouldn’t hassle the wolf. I’d shoot him!” Krupp said, leaning forward.

Awasos sat straight up, head cocked to one side, studying the agents intently.  I did the same thing, my cocky demeanor falling away, replaced by something else. Something serious.

Both agents froze, their heartbeats suddenly pounding loudly in their chests.  They held themselves as if acutely aware of the location of their holstered handguns.

“Why would you say that?  Who goes around shooting people’s wolves?” I asked in a voice slightly rougher than normal.

“I think Agent Krupp was trying to get a reaction out of you, Chris.  Congrats on that, agent.  You found a hot button,” Stacia said, swirling her coffee in her mug and generally ignoring the tension. “I’m pretty sure she wasn’t gonna actually shoot ‘Sos, right, Krupp?”

Awasos glanced to Stacia then back to Krupp, waiting for her response.  I kept both hands on my coffee mug, trying to control the urge to use it as a weapon. Grim felt certain that the thick ceramic would make it through both agents’ skulls.

Krupp’s calm demeanor had been replaced with one that was a little more gunfighter in the street and a lot less investigator in the interrogation room. She blinked.  Then smirked.

Awasos huffed, then lay down, his head on his paws, watching.

I peeled my fingers away from my coffee mug, one at a time, mentally counting to ten.  Then I had an odd sort of insight that it might not be a coincidence that counting to ten to calm oneself matched the number of fingers on both hands.  Visual aids are especially helpful to angry people.  Having completed that minor introspection, I looked back up at Krupp, ignoring her companion.

“So, aside from recounting your fun evening of phone calls and indulging in a little button pushing, what exactly did you want with me this morning?” I asked, pretty much done with the conversation.

Jetta came back in, a full pot in hand.  She hustled over to the table, refilling our cups and leaving the pot behind, along with a swirl of perfume and another bright smile.  Cute kid.

The women exchanged glances and eye rolls at the overabundance of heavily scented air.  Then Krupp fastened her gaze back on me.  “I’d like you to give me your impressions of the crime scene.  You are a psychic, right?”

Okay, that one caught me off guard.

“The word psychic is really kinda broad.  I’m not really your crime-solving kind of spiritualist.”

“Oh?  Velasquez seemed to think you might be handy.”

I needed to see the crime scene anyway, so why not?

“Okay, but I can’t promise any great insights.  My specialty is more of a… cleansing of ambiance type of thing.”

“Yeah, feng shui and all that.  Meet me there at eleven-thirty,” she said, handing me her business card with an address written on the back.

“Awesome.  Wait, you mentioned Director Stewart  of… Oracle?  I never heard the name of his organization before.”

“It’s actually O.R.A.C.L. but gets pronounced Oracle, which was, I’m pretty sure, his intention. And before you ask, I don’t know what the letters stand for,” she said.

“Thanks,” I said to her retreating back.  She threw up a hand in a halfhearted wave without looking back.

Jetta sidled around her and came over to our table, smiling brightly.  Stacia blanched a bit as the cloud of perfume hit us.  Weres' noses are even more sensitive than mine.

“I’m gonna head back to the rooms to get ready.  Meet me there?” she asked, already sliding out of her chair.  Olfactory coward.

“Sure. I’m gonna make some calls.”

She disappeared out the door while Jetta started clearing the dishes onto her big tray.  “Did you want any more food, Mr. Gordon?” Her smile was slightly larger as she watched Stacia leave.

“Ah, no. I think we’re good for now, eh boy?” I asked the hairy horse on the floor.  He picked his empty plate up in his mouth and set it on the table, which elicited a surprised laugh from the teen.

“Wow, he’s as smart as he is big!” she noted.  “He’s a wolf, right?”

“And then some,” I agreed, watching her pet him.  The girl had been a bit wary around Granger and Jep, downright invisible around Agent Krupp and company, but was calmly petting a giant wolf and chatting with me like we hadn’t just met.  Kids.

“Your accent doesn’t quite match the local one.  Where are you from, Jetta?” I asked

“Kentucky,” she said, then paused for a split second like she regretted saying that.

“I’ve never been, but I understand it’s nice country.”

“Beautiful.  Horse country,” she agreed.

“You grew up around animals, I’m guessing?” I asked.

“Yeah, my parents owned a small horse farm.”

“They don’t own it anymore?” I asked.

“They’re dead, Mr. Gordon.  The farm had to be sold.”

“Oh, I’m very sorry Jetta. I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.”

“That’s okay, Mr. Gordon.  I think of them every day and my memories are mostly good ones, other than when they died.”

She picked up the tray and some part of me went ahead and asked, even though I knew it was a bad idea.  “Car accident?”

“No, Mr. Gordon.  They were murdered,” she said, edging the big tray out the door.

Chapter 8

I left a big tip on the table with the remaining breakfast mess, trusting that Granger had the tab covered.  Jetta had been an attentive waitress and I felt a bit guilty about reminding her of her parents.

Crossing the lobby, I noticed the reception desk people, a guy and girl, both human, standing near the front door, watching something in the parking lot.  Curious, I looked out.

A man had Stacia in a choke hold while another man took her car keys and started to open the rear of our borrowed Volvo.  A white panel van was stopped just behind our car, the passenger and driver’s doors open. The man holding Stacia was big and thuggish, wearing navy work pants, heavy boots, and a stained gray tee shirt.  His companion was smaller but still bigger than the petite blonde.  He was dressed in brown pants, black shoes, a black tee shirt, and a windbreaker.  As he opened the rear gate of our wagon, he appeared to be speaking to my partner.  I got all that in a brief glimpse while simultaneously noting that the guy receptionist was calling 9-1-1 on a wireless phone.

Sos and I headed out the lobby door but had only made it a couple of steps when Stacia jackknifed her body forward, holding tight to her captor’s arm.  Classic self-defense throw. Legs bent slightly, body folded at the waist, right shoulder dipped closest to the ground. The smallest victim can usually throw the biggest attacker.  But they usually don’t end up throwing six-foot men fifteen feet away.  Into their other attackers.  Hard enough to break bone.

The important thing to remember about beautiful, petite werewolf women is the werewolf part.  Stacia was likely three times stronger than the bruiser she had just bruised.  She was also multiple times faster, a fact she demonstrated by jumping forward and kicking the downed men viciously.

The smaller guy pulled himself out of the mess of arms and legs and yanked a revolver from behind his back.  That’s as far as he got ‘cause a furry bundle of steel-hard muscle that I recently weighed in at 275 pounds smashed into him at well over thirty miles an hour.   The gun went flying, the man went flying, and the wolf started forward. “Hold, ‘Sos!” I said, loud enough to be heard.  The giant wolf stopped, stiff legged and snarling.

The big one scrambled away, his left arm hanging limply, his right clutched to his ribs.  The other guy crab-walked back, away from the angry wolf and the angrier girl.  Jumping to his feet, he dove into the van, his partner falling in his haste to get in the passenger side.  The van peeled out.

“Fucking pricks!” Stacia snarled, furious.  “Why did you call him off?”

“Because the hotel staff called 9-1-1 and right now, you and fur-face are heroes.  Another five seconds and those two would have been the victims,” I said, holding a hand to my right ear in listening mode.  Distant sirens were getting louder.

She was still fired up, adrenaline racing, breathing heavily to flood her system with oxygen for a fight that wasn’t going to happen.  It had the effect of making her chest heave. Impressively.  I had trouble keeping my eyes on hers, which was plainly obvious to her because her anger changed to something else, something that was amused by my distraction, something that smoldered in her green, green eyes and found its way into her slow, sexy smile. I gulped a little but couldn’t seem to look away from her face. The pattering sound of running feet finally broke our moment.

“Are you okay?”  It was the female receptionist, her buddy right behind her.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Stacia responded, holding my gaze a second longer before turning a bright smile to the staff.

“That was amazing!  You were amazing!” the guy blurted.  “And your dog was incredible!  I’ve never seen anything move that fast!”

“He’s not keen on bullies,” I noted, listening as the cop cars pulled onto the street, then into the parking lot.

After that, there were several dramatic retellings by the staff, a statement by Stacia, who explained away her self-defense prowess by mentioning a cop uncle and, from myself, a license plate number and detailed description of the van and attackers.  The officers took our statements, then spent a great deal of time making sure Stacia was okay.  Probably more time than your average victim would get.  They checked 'Sos’s dog tags, which I had produced upon their arrival, took copies of the hotel’s exterior camera footage, and left with many assurances of doing their best to apprehend Stacia’s attackers.  Me, they mostly left alone, which was fine because it let me look over the Volvo.  The only thing in the car was the sealed fire safe with the witch book in it.

After the cops left, we took the safe into our room, covering it with a blanket so it didn’t look weird for me to be carrying the eighty pound lump like it was a shoe box.

“What did the guy say to you?” I asked.

“He asked where the book was, then his partner noticed the safe in the back of the car.  I was just swinging by the Volvo to see if I left a pair of boots in the back.”

I sliced the safe open with a mono-edged finger and we looked in at the silk-wrapped lump.  Books are normally good things.  Sources of knowledge or a comforting chance to escape reality.  They’re, generally speaking, not black holes of despair and misery.  This one was.  It gave off an oily feeling of pressure that simultaneously made me fear it and want it.  It also made me painfully aware of the supernaturally sexy girl who was practically leaning against me as we both looked in at it.

Less than a week away from Tanya and I couldn’t keep my eyes or thoughts off Stacia.  Now granted, she’s a phenomenally beautiful girl, but I’m just not like that.  Tanya was for me and I was for her… period.  But the feeling in the room now was hot.  Not temperature hot but sex hot.

I took a deep breath, which was clouded with Stacia’s scent (so not helpful), and flicked the silk open enough to see the book’s cover.  Cursive writing in what looked like German graced the cover.  The cover was made of a pale, soft leathery material that made my skin crawl.  I snapped a picture with my throwaway smart phone, rewrapped the book, and slammed the safe door shut.  After re-welding it with bursts of well-placed aura, I placed a call.

“Copper Top Cabins. Erika speaking.”

“Hi Erika. it’s Chris Gordon.  Is your mom there?”

“Ooh, hi Chris!  How are you?” she cooed into the phone.  A strong mental image of a blonde bombshell popped into my head.  A Swedish bombshell, at that.  Across the room, Stacia raised her eyebrows at the girl’s tone, werewolf hearing following both sides of the conversation.

“Wouldn’t you rather talk to me, Chris?” Erika Boklund asked, sugar sweet.  Stacia’s eyebrows went ever further north.

“I need your mom’s expertise Erika.  Is she there?”

“Yes, I’ll get her,” the girl said with a sigh.  Then her bad-girl impression came back full force. “But I think you’d get more from my area of expertise,” she said archly.

Despite my focus on the problem at hand, another image of the curvy blonde sprang unbidden into my mind.  I shook my head to clear it.

“I really need to talk to your mom, Erika,” I said, eyes clenched shut, trying to blank my internal video display.  What was with me and blondes lately?

“I’ll have to take the phone outside.  It’s really hot here today and we were all swimming in the pond.  Lucky I heard the phone at all.  I was getting ice for drinks.  Now I’m standing here in my wet bikini, dripping all over the floor.”

The image in my head changed, losing most of its clothes, left in a skimpy black bikini and beaded with water.

“Ahh, okay,” I mumbled, looking away from a frowning Stacia.

“Here she is.  Oh, and Chris?”

“Yes?”

“My bikini is white, not black,” she said. Next I heard fumbling sounds as the phone was handed off.

“Hello? Mr. Gordon?”

“Ah, hi Mrs. Boklund.  I was hoping you could help me with a problem I have,” I said, still trying to get her daughter’s steamy image out of my head.

I outlined the situation to her, keeping the details short.

“Generally, every Summons creates a small, one-time portal to the realm of whatever it is that’s been summoned.  An open portal such as you’ve described would be theoretically possible but would take enormous power to create.  I don’t see how three pre-teen girls with no training or help could do it.”

“I don’t know for certain that the book is at fault but the whole thing happened not long after the book was found walled away in the basement.”

“The book was found in a wall?  Who owned the house?”

“A man named Scott Lloyd.  The house is bad, twisted.  I believe Mr. Lloyd was into the spiritualist scene and that some pretty dark stuff happened at that place.”

“Scott Lloyd?  I’ve heard of him.  Power for spells can be stored, as you do with your stone figures.  The house could have enough retained energy for something like that.  Send me the photo you took and I’ll see if any of my group know of the book.”

She gave me her email address and I sent the photo as soon as we said goodbye.

Stacia was still frowning at me.

“What?”

“A whole family of witches?” she asked.

“Well, the mom and twin daughters.”

“What do they look like?” she asked.

“I tell you about three Swedish witches in Northern Michigan and you want to know about their appearance?”

“I’m guessing they’re very pretty and that they’re blonde.  Also, the one you spoke to, Erika, has a major thing for you, right?” she asked, arms folded over her chest.

“Yes, yes, and I guess yes,” I answered, frowning at her.

“When you were speaking to Erika, you had a pretty detailed mental picture of her, didn’t you?  Including a bikini.”

“Ah, what are you talking about, Stacia?” I asked, shocked that she knew that—and more than a bit embarrassed.

“How, Chris, could she know you were thinking of a black bikini?  From your thunderstruck expression when she said it, I knew she was dead on.  But how does a teenage witch know what you’re thinking, Chris?”

I hadn’t really caught that when Erika had said it, my mind had been busy changing the black suit to white and I had been… caught up in the details.

“She’s a witch.  Maybe she reads minds?” I threw out.

“I don’t think witches can read minds from hundreds of miles away, or even ten feet away unless they have a spell tied to the person they’re reading.”

My expression must have been thunderstruck again because she softened her glare and unfolded her arms.

“Think about it.  You have a teenage witch with the hots for you.  Is it possible she could try a long-distance love spell or something?  You mentioned that you and Tanya stayed in a cabin; did you leave hair or nails or blood behind?”

“We cleaned up the cabin really well,” I said, but then another memory of Erika popped into my mind.  She had brushed something off my arm when I was getting ice from the machine outside the office. “Yeah, I guess it might have been possible.”

I opened my Sight, looking at the world around me through a veil of my aura.  Stacia glowed almost equal parts green and blue.  Awasos was a blend of purple and green.  Then I looked down at myself.  At first, there didn’t appear to be anything out of the ordinary. Just my purple aura.  But then I spotted it – a tiny tendril of black, just a wisp really.  Thin.  Thin, like a strand of spider web, it extended from my core, shooting off into the wall of our room.  Our room faced west and the strand went out the corner of the room on that side.  Northwest.  Like toward Michigan.

“Damn it!  Son of bitch!”  I tore at the strand with a whip of aura. “It won’t cut!” I said, a little panicky.

“Hold up, stud.  No panicking.  It’s a love spell, or at least a lust spell,” Stacia said.  “It’s not like she’s trying to kill you—she just wants to bed you.  If she has a piece of you, then her connection is pretty tight.  Not something that is easily broken.”

“How do you know all this—about magic?” I asked, waving a hand around.

“The Pack has several witches on retainer.  It’s not normal for weres and witches to work together, but the Malleks are really forward-thinking people.  They’ve forged some unusual alliances.  Part of my job as Afina’s assistant is to liaise with the local Circle of witches.  I’ve made friends with the daughter of the head witch.  So I pick stuff up from her.”

I shuddered, still panicking that a witch had a piece of me.  Picking up my phone, I started to redial the Boklunds’ number.  Stacia grabbed the phone out of my hand.

“Whoa, let’s not do anything stupid, okay?” she asked.  “If we’re right, and I suspect we are, than the spell is a harmless love spell by a teenage witch.  But if you start raving over the phone, then the momma witch might be frightened that the most dangerous person she has ever met might be coming for revenge.  What might she do with your hair?”

That stopped me in my tracks.  Tanya and I had swept and vacuumed the cabin, even burning the vacuum bag and bed sheets, all because we knew Quinby Boklund was afraid of us.  Something about seeing us kill three un-killable Cheenos.  Stacia had a mega point.

She was watching my expression as I processed that concept.  “Right.  So let’s not trigger anything here.  Erika wants all your pieces in the right places, so she’s not going to do anything to harm you.  I doubt the spell has been in place long.”

“Why? Why do you think that?” I asked.

“Because you’ve only been gone from Tanya for less than a week and you’ve been staring at me much more than you should for about three days now,” she said.

“What?” I asked, face burning.

“You are, above all else, loyal to a fault.  I thought it odd that you were paying as much attention to me as you have been.  I mean, I like it, don’t get me wrong.  Truth be told, I’ve been trying to capture your attention since I met you,” she said with a slight blush of her own.  I didn’t know what to say, just stared at her with my mouth open.

“Oh come on!  You have to know that I like you?” she asked, exasperated.

I nodded slowly.  “I guess I do… I mean, yeah, you flirt with me a lot.  So yeah, but I, ah...”

“Yeah, I know.  You’re pretty much an idiot about women, aren’t you?”

“Ah, very much,” I agreed.

“Well, Christian Anthony Gordon, I know a lot about you. For you, forgetting about Tanya isn’t happening, not in a week’s time. Not in a month’s time.  In fact, I was a little disappointed in you,” she said.  I must have frowned something fierce because she laughed.  She was still very much in control of this conversation and loving it.

“I will go ahead and lay it out for you.  I want you.  But I want you to want me, too.  You shared what you think about me last night, so my turn,” she said, pushing me to sit in the closest chair while she sat on the bed. “Settle in, hero, and no interruptions.”

Chapter 9

Just like the night before, Awasos jumped up on the bed and curled around behind Stacia.  She didn’t really notice, just laid back and rested one hand on his ten-gallon head while she composed her thoughts.

“I told you last night a little about growing up in Vermont.  I need to tell you a little more.  Despite my looks, I wasn’t really popular.   I was middle-of-the-pack popular.  In middle school, it was better, but then things changed.  My dad died in Iraq.  I was angry and bitter; I missed him so much.  The military fucked up our benefits, something about an I not dotted or a t not crossed.  Mom had to get a second job, so I barely saw her.  I got a little… wild.  Drinking at parties that I didn’t belong at.  A guy I liked took me to one.  He was a sophomore and I was in  eighth grade.  I got tipsy, and we made out in a bedroom.  A little heavy petting, but that was about it.  But he went and bragged that he had nailed me.  It spread all over school.  My closest friends dropped me.  The boys all harassed me. I was labeled the school slut. I survived.  But high school wasn’t fun.  I made some new friends, went out with a few boys, but my reputation never recovered.  You already know we didn’t have any money for college, so my future looked bleak.  Graduation was just around the corner and, in a fit of despair, I hooked up with an old boyfriend.  We went camping.”

I started to say something, but she held up one hand.  “I know you know this part, but you don’t know it from my point of view,” she said.

“Where was I?  Oh yeah, so we’re camping, messing around.  I hear a howl.  Something far off that doesn’t sound like any coyote or dog I ever heard.  Then five minutes later, something heavy is rushing through the campground.  Our tent is ripped apart and that idiot, Dan, runs headfirst into the only tree around.  A monster that would make Wes Craven cry for his mommy is a split second from tearing me to literal pieces and you show up.  That thing was the size of a grizzly—okay, a small grizzly,” she said, turning to 'Sos, who had lifted his head and tilted it at her.

“And you just threw it like a bag of garbage. This impossibly good-looking man just shows up and yanks it away—and then dives into the darkness after it.  I heard your fight… it was insane.  Even now, knowing everything I know, able to do what I can do, and I still panic at the memory.  A couple minutes of all hell exploding around me, and it stops. You walk back into the campsite like you’re there for a beer.  Your clothes are shredded and bloody, but you’re cool as a cucumber.  You check Dan, you check me.  You actually look me in the eyes—do you know how many men actually look me in the eyes and not at my tits?  And I was just about buck naked.  Then you see the wound on my leg and you’re, like, totally concerned about it.  Covered in your own blood and you’re more worried about me.  And somehow, you heal it!  With your bare hands.  Then you tell me about my future – the one where I’m gonna be a werewolf.  But before I can even freak out you’re reassuring me that it will be alright.  You put me on the phone with Afina, who invites me to New York City along with my mom for a new life.”

She stopped and shook her head, blonde hair whipping.

“How cliché can you get?  Poor girl rescued from a fairytale monster by a superman who promises her a life of opportunity!  Part of me didn’t really believe it, but then again, there was a dead werewolf lying thirty feet away and the man who killed it with his bare hands is standing in front of me, so maybe, just maybe the rest is real, too?  Then the feds show up along with the police, including my uncle, and everything goes down just as you said it would.  And you’re standing there with your shirt off and Gina is cleaning you up.  I wanted to fucking kill her.  She’s touching a body that makes every celebrity I’ve ever seen look anemic, and she’s all doctorly about it.  She even slapped you, which actually made me a little happy, because I was jealous as hell up to that point.  You disappear, but everything you promised happens, even better than you said.  Do you understand, Chris?  My life was empty dreams and broken promises and you twirl it all around a hundred and eighty degrees.  I go to freaking Columbia University now!  I have a job a thousand people would kill for.  I won’t ever get sick, I’ll look twenty for a hundred years, and I’ll never be afraid of men again!  I wasn’t even afraid of the Loki Spawn at my induction because I knew, just knew you were going to stop them.  I was scared to shit when you fought them, but that was a joke. It was like they hit a living Cuisinart!”

She stopped to take a breath, petting the heavy wolf head nestled by her side.

“So I want you.  I’ve wanted you since you saved me.  I know it’s like a white knight fairytale thing, but that doesn’t matter.  But you’re bound to her. Even as you’re bound to me.”

“Er, what?  What do you mean I’m bound to you?” I interrupted.

She smiled.  “The Pack has its own doctor—Dr. Arcos.  He’s a very old werewolf, from Europe.  Afina took me to him my first day in the City.  Dr. Arcos is absolutely fascinated by you and more than a bit by me.  He did blood tests and things.  Told Afina and I that the LV virus had spread through me faster than any bitten were he’d ever seen.  Also, the virus is a bit different in my case, a different strain.  He thinks your blood mingled with mine—just before you healed me.  He thinks you and I have a bit of a bond, which is why I can almost always find you in the City.  Not like the chosen bond you have with her—more like an offshoot of a Pack bond, but more… personal.”

She was looking at 'Sos as she rubbed his head. Now, she raised her liquid emerald eyes and started straight into mine.

“So to be perfectly honest with you, Chris, my goal is to win you away from her.  I’ve thought about the words for a long time.  Things like how toxic a cold, blooded parasitic relationship that only uses you for your powers and blood can be.  Like how you deserve to be with someone that doesn’t feed off you, but feeds with you.  But you’re not a word person, you’re an action person, so I will do it with my actions, just as she will drive you away with hers. That’s it.  My hidden agenda—out in the open.”

She stopped talking and watched me as I processed everything she had said.  It was all true; I could feel that.  Virtually every word.  I was glad I was sitting because I may have keeled over otherwise.  I knew she liked me, or at least thought she did, but my view of the attack that changed her was so drastically different that it never occurred to me that she would or could see me in such a virtuous role.

“Stacia, I’m not what you think.  I’m not the white knight—in fact, I’m more like the black knight. You don’t know what I carry inside me, what I fight to contain.  It might look like I’m a good guy, but I’m really not.”

She snorted.  “You’re kind of a stupid ass is what you are.  You think I don’t know all about Grim, the demon blood, the fact that demons want to use anyone near and dear to you?”

She smiled at me like I was transparent, like I was ill equipped to battle her in a conversation about feelings and relationships.  I had the sinking feeling I was completely out of my league.

“You don’t understand,” I said.

She immediately leaned forward, elbows on her knees.  “What?  That your dark side, Grim, is instant death in every direction?  I watched your one and only cage fight, remember? Which was done for me to have a choice, if I recall.  I heard, in great detail, about the battle under Atlantic Avenue, where you saved the leaders of the Pack and the Coven.  I heard you laugh as you pounded the werewolf that bit me into paste.  I was there last night on the stairs when you were getting your butt beat by little demon girls.  Little demon girls you could have chopped to pieces in a split second, but instead risked your own life to save, one at a time.  I know about you, Christian Gordon.  I know the good and the bad!” she said, standing up.  “I may not like your vampire, but I have to agree with her taste in men.  Hey, see what I did there?  Taste in men!”

She pulled out her own phone while I sat speechless.

“Hey, Mitzi, it’s me!”

“ Ah, Lady Lupus. What’s up, girl?” a female voice said.

“Gotta shop question for you.  Let’s say a girl of your skills gets a hair off a guy and plants a love-type compulsion on him.  How could he get rid of it?”

“You talking about your hottie? You want I should whammy him for you or did some bitchy-witch get his hair?  Where is he?  You following him?”

“No, he’s right here.  We think this little blonde bitch has a line into him, if you follow, but it’s not real strong because he’s transferred it a bit to me.  Mixing up blondes, so to speak.”

“Stace, if I had a hair from your boy, I’d own him!  There wouldn’t be any transference.  She must not know what she’s doing.”

Stacia glanced at me, and I shook my head.  My feeling was that the Boklund witches were highly skilled.

“No, we think she’s in your league, Mitz.”

“First of all, no one is in my league.  Second, granting that she has a modicum of skill, your boy toy must be resistant.  Otherwise he’d beeline for her or, if there had been transference, you’d be too preoccupied to talk, if you know what I mean.  Screaming his name most likely.”

Stacia quirked her eyebrows and pursed her lips, making it obvious she was running a mental image that she liked through her head.  I was, too.

“So what can he do to break it?”

“It’s called Sympathetic magic.  Using part of a person to link a spell.  It creates a path from the witch to the, er, victim.  Paths run both ways.  If it were me, I’d send a little something-something back along the psychic phone line.”

“A counter spell?”

“In my case, yes.  A nasty beat-your-ass kind of spell for attacking me in the first place.  But if Mr. Hottie has half the abilities you seem to think he does, a little burst of power sent back might just destroy the hair or fingernail that she’s working with.  He needs to concentrate on a strand of his own hair, then push some Power back along the link.  I could show him, but I’m not there.  Plus, I’ve seen his photos, remember?  You don’t want me getting ahold his hair or I might be the one screaming his name!”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t trust you within a hundred feet of him,” Stacia said, giving me a wink. “Thanks, Mitzi!”   Stacia covered the phone and pointed at the safe with the book, giving me a raised eyebrow look.  I shook my head.  Asking yet another witch about the book seemed like a really bad idea.  Someone was already after it and it wasn’t twenty-four hours out of the Pack house.

“My pleasure, Bitch!”

“Back at ya, Witch!”

She hung up.  I looked at her with raised eyebrows.

“She’s a handful, but we get along.”

“So that was a joke, the part about her with my hair?” I asked.

“No, she’d chain you to her bed in a New York second.  I’d have to kill her,” she said with a shrug, patting 'Sos on the head as she sat back down.  She meant it—the whole thing.  Her so-called friend would try to enslave me, and Stacia would kill her.  The Vermont girl had a whole new edge to her that I hadn’t really seen before.  She was, after all, a werewolf now.  Werewolves kill things; it’s in their nature.

“The book is going to be a big problem, isn’t it?” she asked.

“I suspect so.  Information is power.  Apparently, someone already wants it bad enough to try and rough you up for it.”

“Yeah, thanks for the help by the way,” she said.

My turn to snort.  “You were about to rip their arms off in full view of the public.  You didn’t need my help.”

“But you would have helped if I’d needed it?” she asked.

I frowned at the memory. “I had all I could do to stop Grim.  Two humans watching and all.  But if it’s any consolation, he ran at least ten options by me.  His favorite was pretty bloody.”

She smiled a self-satisfied smile.  “Nice to know you got my back,” she said, turning and giving me a view of said back.

“Stop that!  It’s not helpful,” I said.

“You know?  You’re right.  Taunting you while you’re under a spell, or as close as you get to being under a spell, isn’t fair.  I’ll stop,” she said, serious.  “So why don’t you see about busting it because I find that I like taunting you?”

I went into the bathroom and pulled a hair from my brush.  Easier than pulling a hair from my almost-brush-cut head.

Eyes closed, breathing deep and even, thoughts focused on my center, the spot two inches or so below my navel.  Picturing a swirling sphere of violet energy pulsing with power, I opened my eyes and stared at the strand of hair.  I pushed energy out of my stomach and through my right hand, which was holding the hair, into the black line of witchy cobweb leading off to the northeast.  The hair in my hand vanished in a puff of smoke just as several loud pops came from the bathroom and the pillow on my bed.  Stacia jumped up and rushed into the bathroom, coming back out immediately with a smoldering plastic mess that moments before had been my brush.  She dumped it in the empty waste can by the desk and looked at me, eyebrows raised.

“It’s gone,” I said after looking with my Sight. The spiderweb from hell had vanished. My phone buzzed on the bed. Caller ID was for Copper Top Cabins.

“Hello?”

“Your book’s title is ‘das Buch der dunkelsten Trauer,‘ which is German for The Book of Darkest Sorrow,“ Quinby said.

“What do you mean?“

“It’s a witch’s grimoire.  It was written in the sixteen hundreds by a woman named Roswitha Maier.  She was very powerful and particularly skilled at the darker, deadlier spells.”

“Is it valuable?”

“Incalculably!  This lady was a monster; she virtually ruled a section of the Black Forest unchallenged.  Hitler spent enormous resources trying to find that book.  It was in a house in North Carolina?”

“Walled up in concrete.  Can witches track this thing?  We’ve already been attacked once over it.”

“Grimoires take on part of their author’s power and personality.  That one is probably like a beacon in the night for every witch in the area. Thick concrete would likely block its signal.  How are you storing it?”

“Wrapped in silk in a cheap firesafe.”

“The silk is good, but you need lots of it, and it should be in a Rowan wood box.  The safe is useless.  Rowan wood is protective and, combined with the silk, should help hide it.  But you should know that as long as you have it, you’ll be targeted.”

“How do I destroy it?”

She hesitated, and I could tell she didn’t want to tell me.  “Why destroy it?”

“Because it ripped a portal to Hell in some little girls’ room."

“It will resist destruction.  But saltwater will weaken and eventually destroy the wards that protect it.  If you were near an ocean, then submerging it in saltwater, in, say, a plastic bag, would completely hide it as well.  But Mr. Gordon, I think you should reconsider destroying it.  The information it contains is priceless.”

“Mrs. Boklund, I spend my life hunting down and banishing demons.  This book is a pocket primer for mass destruction, demon style.”

“Not to change the topic, but a corner of my daughter’s dresser just exploded a few minutes ago,” she said, her tone cautious.

“Oh, anyone hurt?” I asked, suddenly concerned.

“No, but Erika told me that she used some exceedingly poor judgment with you,” she said.

“I suspect it was a love spell type of thing,” I said.

“Mr. Gordon, my daughter is impulsive and passionate, but she meant you no harm.  I’m so so sorry if this spell has caused you to travel unnecessarily.”

“She’s young and I guess I can’t hate her for liking me, but it’s pretty much the ultimate stalker move.  But I didn’t do any unnecessary traveling; the spell wasn’t that strong.”

“Really? That bothers me more than anything else.”

“Huh?”

“My daughter is young and prone to not thinking things through, but she’s a gifted witch with considerable power.  If the spell failed to have an effect, on you then you are extremely resistant to magic.  That’s… troublesome.  Are we okay, Mr. Gordon, or do we have a problem?”

“I consider your help invaluable, Mrs. Boklund.  Glad everyone is okay.  But please keep Erika from doing anything else like that,” I said.  She agreed, and we hung up.

“How do you feel?” Stacia asked.  “Any uncontrollable urges to ravish me?”

“I feel better.  Back on track,” I answered.

“You didn’t answer my second question,” she noted.

“Come on, let’s go to church,” I said, heading for the door.  Behind me, she laughed softly to herself.  I didn’t tell her that the image in my head was of a certain black-haired, blue-eyed girl, who I hadn’t thought of properly in days.

Chapter 10

A mile from the hotel, we came across an Episcopal church, made from dark red stone and with a bell tower.  In other words, it looked like a church should.  There’s a whole slew of new churches out there that meet in converted retail spaces or other commercial buildings.  They would work fine for my purposes, but I have a hard time meeting my handler from Heaven in anything but a traditional church.  Go figure—me, the anti-church guy, and I’m stuck with conventional values.

The sanctuary was open, so we entered quietly and I grabbed a pew near the back.

“I’m sorry, but the church is closed,” a voice said from the front left of the room.  A middle-aged man with a white collar started to approach us, a frown on his face as he gazed at the giant wolf sitting by my side.

Another man appeared silently by his side, taller and younger looking.  This one spoke softly into the priest’s ear and, despite my super hearing, I couldn’t hear a word he said.  The priest didn’t acknowledge the newcomer, but he suddenly stopped his approach and smiled at us.

“On second thought, we are, after all, God’s house, and all are welcome.  Please take your time. Just be sure to close the door when you leave.”

With that, he turned and left the way he came.  The young man by his side continued to approach us.  Tall, athletic, with tightly curled blonde hair, he had fashion model looks.  He was wearing dark jeans and a dark Skillet tee shirt that had a gruesome monster exploding out of his torso.  The words I feel like a Monster were printed right over the graphic image.  Awasos watched him, but Stacia didn’t appear to be able to see him.

“It’s gonna get weird in a second.  You’ll think I’ve gone off the deep end and started carrying on conversations with myself.  But that’s not what’s happening,” I tried to explain to her.

“I know. You’re gonna talk to your Angel, right?”

“How did you know about that?”

“I already told you.  I know all about you,” she said softly.  She settled back in the pew and pulled out her smartphone to check emails.

“Hi Barbiel,” I said.

My personal contact among the Heavenly Host smiled and patted Awasos before sitting in the pew in front of us.  He swiveled around, putting one leg on the pew in order to face me.

“I’m concerned that L… Tatiana is not here.  I haven’t met this companion before, but I fear she is a potential… divergence.”

“This is Stacia.  She’s helping me with the local wolf pack,” I said, ignoring his comment.

“Yes, and now I see how she fits into things.  You continue to draw in those you will need.  But this one is also a temptation.”  He shuddered.  “Choice—it seems like such a simple thing, but it literally defines the human ordeal.”

“Are you saying that you have no ability to choose?” I asked.

“No, of course I have the ability to make choices, but Angels don’t have Free Will.  I will never be tempted to deviate from my mission.  My choices are all about how to achieve my goals, but I cannot choose to ignore the mission.  You—humans—all have Free Will.  You are supposed to be with Tatiana, but this Stacia tempts you.  You are attracted to her and if you choose her, it could change everything.”  He tilted his head and regarded us for a moment, then smiled.  “But you haven’t gone down that path—yet.”

“Soo, let’s get back to the reason I’m here,” I said, troubled by his words.

“Yes, the Gateway.  You wish to know how to close it,” he stated.  I must have looked shocked because he chuckled.  “We keep pretty close tabs on you.  I’m not the only one assigned to this case anymore.  But –" he held up one finger and looked serious, “ I am still the lead!”

“Barbiel, these conversations always leave me scratching my head for days.  Since you know why I’m here, can you help?” I asked.

He nodded, a pleased smile on his face.  Reaching into the pocket of his jeans, he pulled out a folded piece of paper.  He held it up and started to open it.  He continued to unfold, and unfold, and unfold, till the paper was three feet long.  Densely written words in flowing script filled the entire front and back.  He fluttered it in my face.  “These are the instructions for closing a Hell gate… if you were a witch!”

He dropped it, and it disappeared six inches from the ground.  Reaching back into his pocket, he pulled out a three-by-five-inch note card.  There appeared to be four short sentences written on it.

“These are the instructions if you happen to be you,” he said, handing it to me.

The card said:

Focus your aura,

Envision a net closing,

Push power to the outside edges of the opening,

Pull it shut like the drawstrings of a pouch.

I looked back up at him.  “You’ve developed a twisted form of humor that is… unexpected.”

“I copied yours.  My Brothers don’t understand humor, but I find I like it.”

I studied him for a moment.  Every meeting with him turned out in unpredictable ways.

“This is it?  It’s too easy,” I said, shaking the card.

He shook his head.  “It will be extraordinarily difficult.  The power that opened the Gate was harnessed over years and years of dark rituals conducted in that house.  The power built over the years as the house had subsequent owners.  It drew energy from each owner and every person in their household like a vampire draws blood.  Closing this portal will take more power than you have in yourself, Christian.  You will need to use an additional source.”

“What could I possibly use for that?” I asked.

He leaned forward and tapped the God Tear hanging around my neck.  Most people didn’t notice it, but of course, he was an Angel. Plus, he sorta made it.

“You will use this.  A significant portion of it, maybe all of it.”

“How do I do that?” I asked.

He tapped my head with the same finger that had just touched the Tear.  I felt a small pulse in my head at his touch.

“The procedure is not complex, but I find it easier to just put the instructions in your head than to try and explain them with words.  Just go to the room, and you’ll know exactly what to do.  Again, it is not complex, but it is extremely difficult.  The power from the Tear will flow through you to the gate.  It will be taxing on your body and your mind, but the hardest will be on your soul.  The emotions you will feel must be kept in check or you will want to quit.  That’s the gate protecting itself; it will also draw on the Tear.  Despair, frustration, uselessness.  These will wear at your motivation.  If they win and you stop part way through, the gate will reopen larger and it will pretty much drain your essence to do so.  You will die… painfully.  That’s about it.  Like my tee shirt?”

I didn’t answer for a couple of seconds, still thinking about the whole drained-essence-death thing.  He watched me, waiting for an answer.

“Yeah, kinda hits close to home,” I finally said, looking at the monstrous image that looked to be exploding from his chest.

“Yes, that’s it exactly.  Your dark half ripping out to rain God’s Vengeance down on His Foes,” he said happily, looking inordinately pleased with himself.

“Is that what I do?  It feels like I just go from one chaotic nightmare to the next, never really knowing what the He… the heck I’m doing.  I’m always behind the curve, reactive, not proactive.”

“Oh, you mustn’t despair, Christian.  You are very, very new to all this.  You’ve barely begun to crawl, let alone walk or run.  It will all come in time.  Yahweh is pleased,” he said.  “The most important thing to focus on now is making the right choices.”  He looked at Stacia as he said it, smiling faintly at her even though she couldn’t see him. She frowned at her cell phone as she launched a grumbling red bird from an oversized slingshot at a smarmy pig on her display.

“She is another marvelous addition to the cluster you are building.  In fact, she may play a truly decisive role, but she is also a chance for you to fail if you misstep.  The complexity of it all makes closing the gate look like simple child’s play.”

“Oh, that’s reassuring,” I said.

He studied me for a moment, puzzled.  “Is that… sarcasm?”

“Yup!”

“I may have to copy that as well, although I don’t think I’ll try it on Michael.  He is prone to what you would call ass kicking.  Maybe Gabriel.  He’s a bit cerebral; it’ll bug the crap into him!”

“It’s bug the crap out of him,” I corrected.

“Really?  Are you sure?  Oh, of course you’re sure,” he said as I gave him a deadpan look.  “Well, that’s about all I have to offer you.”

“Thank you, Barbiel,” I said, getting up.  “Come on, Stacia. We got a crime scene to check out.”

Without looking up from her phone, birds, and pigs, she slid over to the other opening of the pew and got out.  Then she headed out of the church, finally putting her phone away but not so much as glancing my way.  Uh oh.

'Sos and I headed after her, catching up just as we left the building.  Her head was up and looking forward.

“What’s up?” I asked.  She glanced my way, eyes hard, but didn’t answer.

“Stacia, what’s the matter?”

She climbed into the passenger seat of the Volvo while I held the back door for 'Sos.  She still stared straight ahead while I climbed behind the wheel.

“I don’t like being judged,” she said, staring straight out the windshield.  “Not by high school kids or horny men or even God’s own angels!”

“What?  What are you talking about?”

“Your angel doesn’t like me.  Thinks I’m bad for you!”

“Actually, he does like you.  Thinks you’re a major part of my life’s mission.  Where do you get the judge thingy?  You couldn’t see or hear him.”

“No Sherlock, but I could see and hear you just fine.  You introduced me and then were immediately talking about choices.  And your tone was defensive, so he was making judgements.  I don’t need his approval!”

Wow, women are so much more perceptive than men!  I wouldn’t have got any of that.  Of course, she was only half right and refused to believe me about the part where he thought she was important and special.

“Couple things about Barbiel.  He’s still learning about humans and our world, so he gets a lot of stuff mixed up.  His main mission is to pass me messages and give me guidance with stuff like demon portals and God Tears and shit.  He believes that Tanya and I have been together before this life and belong together now.  He always has.  He sometimes slips up and calls us by other names.  So yes, he’s a teeny bit biased, but he thinks you are extremely special and important.”

I figured it was best to come clean and just tell the full-out truth, rather than try to convince her of anything else.

She glanced sideways at me and, despite the hard set to her mouth, I could see the brightness of barely withheld tears in her eyes.

“That smelled like the truth.  Thank you for that.  But I’ll tell you this… you may have been with her before but I plan to be the one you’re with at the end!,” she sniffed.  “What names does he call you?”

“He calls Tanya Lailah.  I’ve been called Malahidael.”

“Those names sound… old.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“What did you find out about them?”

“About what?” I asked, uncomfortable.

“Hello?  The names?”

I shrugged.  “I never researched them,” I said, studying the GPS’s directions to the crime scene.

She just looked at me, then pulled out her phone and did stuff on it.

I concentrated on driving.

Chapter 11

Agent Krupp and her shadow, Agent Mazar, approached us from their government issue sedan which was parked on the opposite side of the street from ours.

“Nice car.  Somehow, I didn’t picture you driving a Volvo… wagon,” Agent Krupp said by way of greeting.

“It’s borrowed.”

“Yeah, belongs to the Lupine Group.  Hey what’s with all these investment groups?” she asked.  I raised my eyebrows in question.  We were just getting out of our car on the street across from Greenfields restaurant in downtown Asheville.

“Your… partner?  She works for this Lupine Group, LLC.  Granger heads up something called Phase Integration, LLC that seems to be more like an investment club mixed with a commune, and Simon Masten used to have a bunch of so-called employees for a corporation named Blue Moon, Inc.”

“Lupine is a diversified corporation.  Owns a chain of sporting goods stores as well as other properties.  I know the principals, and they referred me to Granger’s company.  Other than that, I think you should ask Stacia,” I replied, hooking a thumb in her direction.

“What do you want to know, agent?” Stacia asked.

“Lupine refers to wolves?” Agent Mazar asked, speaking for the first time.

“It can.  It also refers to Lupin plants,” Stacia said.

“But your company prefers the wolf part, no?” Mazar asked.  She had an accent.  Middle Eastern, maybe Israeli.

“Actually, we like both.  The company started as an outdoor store, so what better to appeal to the woodsy masses than wolves?  Eco-lovers see the wolf as a symbol of endangered species.  Hunters see it as a strong predator, worthy of respect.  But the plant part?  Lupin is a foreign plant that spreads like crazy.  Our corporation likes to spread as well,” she noted with a wolfish grin.

Both agents held their poker faces, but their scent smelled slightly frustrated.

I was looking the restaurant over.  It was an older, two-story brick building that had once been a home.  It was in cherry condition.  The front door was the main entrance, but a sign next to a paver pathway that wound around the left side of the property indicated a patio bar and seating out back.  The whole property was enclosed on three sides by a six-foot brick wall that matched the house.  To the left of the wall was an apartment building and on the right side, a florist shop.

I looked at the property for a full minute, waiting for a vision to strike.  Nothing.  They don’t always hit, and only on supernatural crimes.  Or I should say, crimes committed by supernatural beings.  Since this was a crime on a supernatural critter, I was probably on my own.

“Any flashes of psychic insight there, Gordon?” Krupp asked.

“Only that it must be hard to sleep in those apartments when there’s a band at the patio bar,” I noted.  Krupp just glared at me.

Car doors slammed as four other members of her BAU team got out of another vehicle.  Agent Dison was in front, followed by the other three from the bar.

“Gordon and Reynolds, these are agents Dison, Briton, Connor, and Lyle,” Krupp said.  Agent Briton was the blonde female and Lyle was a tall, ginger-haired male.

I nodded at them and returned to my study of the restaurant.  My nose picked up the smell of old blood in the alley to the left of the restaurant and next to the apartment building.  I headed that way.

The crime scene tape was long gone, cleaned up when the site was released by the crime scene investigators days ago, but I easily found the death spot by sense of smell.  It was up close to the outer side of the brick wall but not right against it.  Stacia, Awasos, and I all looked it over, with 'Sos being the only one who could sniff freely without attracting attention.  After all, that’s what wolves and dogs do.

“So he died here?  Facing the wall.  How was he killed again?” I asked.

Krupp exchanged glances with the big guy, Dison, before answering.

“He died from a single gunshot wound to the head.  Bullet entered his throat, traveled through the larynx, and lodged in the brain stem.  Death was near instantaneous,” Agent Lyle said.

“No one in the restaurant or the apartment building heard anything?” I asked, thinking how difficult it was to kill a werewolf with a single shot.

“No, and there was no band playing that night,” Agent Briton replied.

“What caliber?  Handgun cartridge likely,” I said, thinking to myself.

“Correct.  .357 caliber, 158 grain semi-wadcutter, lead,” Briton said.

“Any casings?” Stacia asked.

“No,” Lyle answered her instantly.  Lyle and Connor were standing just slightly behind her, both trying not to get caught staring at her.

“So, one adult male, killed by a close contact, suppressed, low-power revolver round that wasn’t, in all likelihood, fired from a revolver.  Bullet expertly placed for an instant kill,” I noted. “Tell me, was there a contact burn on his throat?”

Agent Lyle looked at his iPad.  “Yes. Also, small particles of paper were embedded in the skin.”

“Paper?  Really?  Can I see a photo of the crime scene?”

Lyle just turned his tablet so I could view the screen, which showed the man’s (werewolf’s) body lying close to the wall.  From that angle, anyone standing up against the wall would be completely hidden from the restaurant.

I backed up to the apartment building and looked over the wall at Greenfields.  Only the upper floor windows were visible.

“The victim, Charles Wilton, left his companions at their table and went to the bathroom, which is on the second floor.  Second window from the rear of the building,” Agent Briton said, pointing. “Staff remember seeing him come down the back staircase and going out the patio bar door.”

“Like he saw something or someone that caught his attention on the way to the men’s room and came out the back way.  Looks like whoever shot him was backed against the wall, with him crowding close.  Then they capped him under the chin with a suppressed weapon,”  I said.

“Why did you say the weapon wasn’t a revolver, Gordon?” Krupp asked.

“Come on, Agent Krupp. You know revolvers are almost impossible to suppress.  The gap between the cylinder and the forcing cone of the barrel lets too much gas out to properly dampen the sound.  Hey, were the paper particles brown or tan?” I asked.

“Yes, brownish, why?” Agent Dison asked.

“I’m just speculating, that’s all.”

“Why don’t you speculate out loud,” Krupp growled.

I looked at her for a minute, then shrugged.  What the hell, why not.

“It sounds like the cartridge was handloaded to a softer level of power and sound. A standard hardcast semi-wadcutter .357 will blow right through a man, not lodge in the brain. I’m thinking you’re dealing with a murder weapon cut down from a single-shot rifle or even a pistol-caliber lever-action carbine.”

“Sounds homemade.  How would they suppress it?” Krupp didn’t sound too surprised, but then, they would likely know the weapon from the marks on the recovered bullet.

“Well, I’ve heard of someone patenting a device that screws on the end of a threaded barrel that lets you mount a car oil filter. Oil filters are almost ready-made expansion chambers, complete with paper baffles.”

“Which would leave paper particles on skin,” Briton finished for me.  I nodded.

“An oil filter?” Krupp asked, sounding intrigued.

“Yeah, the killer probably welded a threaded receiver to the muzzle of his or her cut-down rifle.”

“So how would he get the victim to hold still long enough to stuff this foot-long gun under his chin and shoot him precisely in the brain?” Dison wondered.

Good question.  I checked the ground right up against the wall for shoe marks, but it was clean.  Standing up, I caught a whiff of something from the bricks of the wall itself.  Perfume—unknown brand—not anything I’d smelled before.  It was about head height for an average-sized female.

“Tell me about the victim?” I asked.

“You know you come at this more like a cop than a psychic?” Connor questioned.

“I told you—I’m not really much of a psychic,” I said.

“But you used to be a cop,” Mazar said, suddenly.

I ignored her comment but instead sat back and looked at the rest of team, waiting for someone to spill the details.  Lyle finally broke down.

“Victim is one Cody Charles, born and raised just outside of Pikesville, Kentucky. Age twenty-seven. Court records for his early teens show a pattern of petty juvenile misdemeanors.   Brought up on assault charges at eighteen, plea bargained down to probation.  Further assault charges for beating up five guys in a bar at age twenty-four, but the charges were dropped. None of the vics would I.D. him.  Suspect in two rape cases but again, no identification by the victims.  All in all, a real charmer,” Lyle said.

So based on that, it looked like he was Turned by age twenty-four, which is why he could beat the crap out of five guys.  Abusive and criminal.  Just the kind of guy you want to have the lethal abilities of a werewolf.

“What about the other victims?” I asked.

Briton answered,  “Similar rap sheets.  Assault, rape, lack of witnesses willing to testify.”

“So  Cody boy gets up to hit the men’s room, spots something out the window that intrigues him enough to leave the building but not worrisome or he’d call his crew.  He backs the killer up against a brick wall, then obligingly holds still while she shoots him.”

“She?” Krupp asked sharply.

“Yeah, I’m thinking our killer is a female.  Cody the ladykiller spots a hottie out the window and heads out to engage.  Using his killer charm, he backs her up against the wall.  She’s obviously no threat to a tough guy, so he doesn’t see the weapon she’s holding till it’s too late.  Maybe it’s in a bag or something.”

“The unsub is a female?  Picking off all the male members of this pack of charmers one by one?” Dison said, more testing the question out loud than looking for anyone to answer. He was trying to sound surprised, but he didn’t smell surprised.  I was telling them stuff they already knew.

“Maybe this group wronged the killer—raped her or a family member, and she wants revenge,” Stacia said.  The team looked like they had forgotten about her, which kind of floored me.  Forget Stacia?  No way.

“What?  It’s what I’d do.  I’d hunt the fuckers down and castrate them, then kill them if they hurt my mom or me,” she said fiercely.

The men looked a bit wide-eyed at her ferocity, but I noticed Briton nodding her head slightly in agreement.

“Kyle, Briton—go back through all the victims' histories.  Look for any unsolved crimes that they may have in common.  Include Simon Masten and the other one that’s still alive—what’s his name?  Bo?”

“Yes ma’am, Bo Morrison.  We’re on it,” Lyle said, glancing at the blonde Briton and getting a nod back.  They headed back to their vehicle, pulling phones and laptops as they went.

“The only problem I have with your theory, Gordon, is the first two vics were killed deep in the woods with gunshots to the head from an elevated position.  The bodies were then dragged through rough terrain for several hundred yards and finally strung up in trees.  It would take a very strong female to accomplish that.”

“Maybe she used a block and tackle or a come along?” I suggested.

“Or maybe she has a helper,” Stacia suggested.  Krupp and Dison both turned to look at her.

“Well you can only see this part of the alley if you’re on the second floor.  How would she know when to flaunt herself unless someone else was watching the group as they ate dinner?”

I walked over to the apartment building wall, where someone would be most visible to the restaurant.  The hard pavement had patches of dirt and dust.  Thin tire tracks were visible in one spot.

“Someone park a bike here?” I asked.

“Those tracks are consistent with an older model Schwinn bicycle,” Connor said.  “and before you ask, yes we questioned the residents of the building. No one rides a Schwinn.”

“Where, in the restaurant, was Masten’s group sitting?” I asked.

“Front right corner,” Connor answered.

I walked across the street, past our car.  Three houses were directly across from the restaurant, all apparently converted to apartments.  Looking back at the restaurant it was obvious that only the third one, farthest from our car, had the right angle to see into the restaurant.  The house had a driveway that ran down the left side of the property.  The driveway followed a white, six-foot fence for the back yard of the next house down which was a corner property.  It was a modern vinyl-type fence that blocked all view into the corner house’s yard.  Pulling myself up and peering over the fence showed a cluttered backyard filled with a jumble of children’s toys.  A raised metal fire pit sat ten feet from the corner, surrounded by a mix of folding camp chairs.  A small stack of firewood was stacked against the fence just under my viewpoint.

“A lookout could easily stand on that wood pile and watch over the fence, then let the female know when one of the group headed to the john.  Did they come here often?” I asked.

“Yeah, Masten said it was his favorite restaurant up until the shooting,” Dison said.

“The killers spent a lot of time studying Masten and his group.  This was pretty carefully set up.”

“Congratulations Gordon, you’ve recreated the same scenario we did,” Krupp said.

“Yeah, but in like ten minutes.  And we didn’t have the murder weapon sketched out quite so clearly,” Connor said.  Krupp glared at him.

“I mean we knew it was a single-shot Rossi in .357 magnum, but we hadn’t sussed out the possibility of the oil filter suppressor,” he clarified defensively.

“How did you know where the murder occurred, Gordon?” Mazar asked.

“Granger told me it was in an alley outside the restaurant.  This is definitely more of an alley than the florist side,” I answered with a shrug.

“So no psychic visions of the killers’ faces?” Krupp asked sarcastically.

“Not a blip,” I agreed.

“Some psychic!” Dison said. I used to be a cop too and recognized that he was baiting me.  I ignored him.

“Boss, we struck out on the common rapes theme around Pikeville,” Briton said as she and Lyle approached.   Krupp started to turn a smirk in our direction, but the blonde agent held up one hand.  “But we got a possible hit on a crime in the center of the state, quite a bit west of Pikeville.”

Lyle said, “A husband and wife were murdered seven months ago near Irvine, which is outside Richmond, and right up against the Natural Bridge state park.”

Krupp raised her eyebrows in question.  Briton answered her. “The Masten group does a lot of camping in that park.”

“Any surviving family?” Dison asked.

“Sixteen-year-old daughter and an eighteen-year-old son.  Family owned a horse farm.”

“What’s the daughter’s name?” I asked.

“Elizabeth J. Sutton,” Briton answered. “The son is Alex M. Sutton.”

“What does the J stand for?” I asked.

Both agents paused while they searched their databases.

“Jetta,” Lyle answered first.  Stacia and I stared at each other in shock.

“Care to let us in on the secret?” Krupp demanded.

“The heavily perfumed waitress at the restaurant is Jetta.  She told me she was from Kentucky and that her parents were murdered.”

“She told you all that?  Not much for keeping secrets for a budding serial murderer,” Dison noted.

Stacia snorted. “You’d be surprised what girls will say if they have the attention of my friend here,” she said with a nod in my direction.

They all stared at me for a second, then Briton nodded.  “Yeah, no shit!” Her face went pink as soon as she said it and she immediately looked down at her computer .  Krupp gave her a speculative glance, then turned into boss agent.

“Everyone, back to the restaurant!  Now!”

Chapter 12

“That scenario make sense?” I asked Stacia as we followed the agents back to the hotel.  They had raced off while we followed at a more sedate and less law-breaking pace.

“Totally.  Male weres are horndogs, always looking to score. Masten’s group is a bunch of twisted rapists to begin with.  They wouldn’t be able to say no to a chance to dominate a young girl like your waitress.”

“That’s why she wore so much perfume, to cover her scent,” I noted.  “A family of horse people would likely know a thing or two about hunting predators.  Just different bait.”

“Yeah, she won’t be there when we get back.  She’s too smart.”

“Why did she tell me about her parents, then?” I asked.

Stacia sighed.  “Even smart girls get stupid around attractive men.”

“That simple?” I asked.

“Who knows?  But it could easily be that simple.  Remember, she’s young and parentless.  Almost everybody falls for the Halo Effect at one time or another.”

“The what?”

“Halo Effect.  We covered it in Psych 101 at Columbia.  We automatically give more credibility to attractive people.  Girls use it to great advantage, but we also fall victim to it.  No matter how smart she is, she could easily be swayed by a really good looking person she thinks is human who commands the respect of both werewolves and FBI agents.”

“Respect?  Agent Krupp?  You’re joking, right?”

“No.  What self-respecting Special Agent gives any credence to a psychic?  And Mazar?  She wasn’t with the team last night, but she shows up today and nobody on the team interacts with her.  She’s a plant.  Why else would Krupp ask you to look at the scene?  When she threatened to shoot 'Sos, she was already on edge.  Mazar is using her to test you.”

“Look at you—single-handedly destroying the blonde stereotype all over town!”

“Yeah, but don’t tell anyone ‘cause the whole stupid blonde thing is really useful,” she said with a grin.

We arrived at the hotel about then and spotted Krupp standing in the parking lot, giving orders to her team.  Mazar stood back, working on her iPad and generally separate from the team.  Krupp was looking decidedly unhappy.

“She gone?” I asked through the open window of the Volvo.  Mazar was suddenly attentive, watching as Krupp responded.

“Yeah, her supervisor said she seemed unhappy after we left, worried about something.  She left her uniform and took off almost immediately.  Her job application lists a bogus address.  She’s only worked here about three weeks.”

“Well, glad we could help.  Good luck with the case, Agent Krupp,” I said.

“Where the hell are you off to, Gordon?” Krupp asked, suspicious.

“Lunch. I’m starving.  Then I have some heavy feng shui to throw around at the Grangers’ place.  See ya,” I said, giving an extra wave to Mazar, who looked curious as hell.

I pulled back out onto the road.

“What are you hungry for?” I asked Stacia.

“Seafood,” she said instantly.  I glanced over at her; she was holding her smartphone up. A local seafood restaurant was on the screen, the picture showing a huge saltwater aquarium in the restaurant dining room.

“Hmm, good choice.”

The giant aquarium formed part of the wall separating the restaurant entryway from the dining room.  It was easily eight feet long and three feet wide.  A big block of twisted black coral took up the center, providing dozens of nooks and crannies for the multi-colored fish.  Inspecting it closely revealed that the dark coral rose almost to the top of the tank and had a couple of openings that looked big enough to house a moray eel… or a paperback-sized book.

“Good afternoon and welcome to Captain Henry’s…” the pretty young hostess said, trailing off as she got a good look at my violet eyes.

“Hi yourself!” I said, moving closer and focusing a big smile at her.  Her heart rate climbed by a third as she immediately smiled back.  “Table for two? My cousin and I are starving.  And do you have take-out?” I asked. Her smile got bigger as she heard the word cousin and she immediately grabbed a take-out menu along with two lunch menus.

“Follow me, please,” she said, flipping her brown hair and smiling at me again.  She pretty much ignored Stacia.  Walking just ahead of me, she glanced back over her shoulder to make sure I was close.  I was, faithfully playing the role of interested flirt so Stacia could hang back and tuck the zip-lock-baggie-wrapped book into a salty hidey hole in the aquarium.

Ten seconds later, we arrived at the table and only then did the hostess notice we were missing someone.  She frowned slightly but smiled when Stacia appeared, weaving her own way to us through the crowded restaurant.

“Sorry. I was looking at that striped eel and I didn’t realize you two had left me behind.”

“Yeah, isn’t it great!” the hostess bubbled.  “Love your shoes!” she said with a glance at Stacia’s feet.

“Thanks,” my partner smiled back.

“Well, here are your menus, and your waiter, Patrick, will be right over,” she said, giving me another big smile, then twitching her way back to her hostess station.

“Wow, if she put any more swing in that walk, she’d throw her back out,” Stacia noted before turning her attention to the menu.

“Your turn,” I noted as I saw the waiter approach.

Stacia glanced up, then looked back down at her menu. “Nope, still you,” she said, which made me look up in confusion.  Then Patrick arrived.

“Hello, I’m Patrick and I’ll be taking fabulous care of you today!” he said with a flamboyant twirl of one hand and all his attention focused on me.  Stacia grinned at me from behind her menu.

“Can I get you pretty people some beverages?”

We each ordered milk.

“Patrick, we have to bring some food back to the rest of our group.  Can I place take-out orders now?”

“But of course!”

I ordered two salmon entrees and a spaghetti and meatball dinner for 'Sos.  When he returned with our drinks, we ordered calamari and crab cake appetizers along with bowls of lobster bisque and lobster rolls.  Patrick finished writing up the order, then made a show of looking both of us over, tsking as he did.  “I would blow up like a dirigible if I ate half that much,” he noted.  Then he looked back at Stacia’s feet.  “Fabulous shoes, girl!” then swished away to turn in our order.

“What do I do with this?” Stacia asked, showing me the empty wooden book box in her purse.  I thought about it for a minute till an idea popped into my head.

“Let’s put something else in it.  Something from the emergency kit in the car.”

She frowned, obviously thinking about the kind of items the Pack keeps in its car emergency kits.  Let’s just say that the list wouldn’t match up with Triple A’s suggestions.

“You think that will fool anyone?” Stacia asked.

“Only for a minute or two, but that could be a whole lot of time,” I said.

“Especially to Grim,” she agreed.

The food came quickly; we ate, paid our bill, and took 'Sos’s food out to where he was waiting impatiently in the car.  The Volvo shook a little from side to side as he chowed down, making the drive to the Grangers’ house feel like we were driving through a seismic shockwave.  Stacia rummaged through the kit, finally holding up the very item I had thought of.  I nodded at her raised eyebrows and she carefully fitted it into the box, then tied it closed with a ponytail holder, even going so far as to attach a note warning that opening the box was dangerous.

A big black Ram pickup truck was the only vehicle waiting in the driveway of the Granger house.  Jep unfolded himself from the driver’s side like a Transformer, his head well above the roof of the big truck.

“I’ve kept everybody out, but Ned wondered if we can use the house tonight.  Our pack is hosting some important visitors from Europe and this would be the best location if it’s not overrun with demons and shit,” the big man rumbled.

“Jep, it will either be safe to use or it will be a blast crater.  We’ll know pretty quick.  Why don’t you lead Stacia and Awasos back out to the road.  Maybe get a quarter mile or so away,” I said.

“Fuck that!  I’m here,” Stacia said.  Awasos woofed four times in rapid agreement with her statement.

“Guys, I don’t think there’s much of anything for you to do.  If I fail at this, the whole thing will go to shit,” I pleaded.

“Well then, you’ll just have to get it right the first time, won’t you!” she said, her stance daring me to attempt to make her leave.  The furry beast by her side crouched down, braced for anything.

I looked at them for a moment or two, then shook my head.  “Jep, you at least should get a safe distance away.”

“No sir.  I’ll stay on site in case you need anything,” he said, crossing his own arms.

They were all nuts.

“Alright, let’s do this!”

Chapter 13

The house was as creepy as ever, tainted almost since its construction.  I stopped just outside the door to the third floor staircase to give Jep one of my anti-demon necklaces.

“When we go up, I’m going to close the portal with my aura.  As I understand it, the power built up in the house by all of the dark rituals that occurred here allowed the girls to complete the spell that ripped a hole in the barrier between this world and Hell.  The spell was probably partially completed decades ago and was sorta tripped by the kids.  Almost prearranged, so to speak.”  All three nodded back at me, even the wolf.  Jep noticed 'Sos’s head bob but didn’t comment, just looked slightly shocked.

“When I start this, the portal will project feelings of helplessness and uselessness.  It’s a protective measure to get me to stop and give up; sorta built-in defenses.  We can’t allow that.  I have to finish once I start or the results will be bad.  There may be more active defenders as well,” I said.  I didn’t know for sure about the last part, but it made sense, as the gate had been fully open last night and who knew what might come through.

“Define bad?” Jep asked.

“House swallowed by gaping Hellhole, but that’s just the start, as the portal will be a hundred times bigger at that point, letting all kinds of things through.  Things may try to come through while I’m closing the gateway.  You three need to stop them.  Jep, you might want to be in beast-man form if you can swing it.  Awasos, bear form.  Stacia, I need to you stay human so you can talk to me if I start to lose it.  Maybe we can find a weapon for you.”

Jep snorted.  “I got just the thing!  The Boss keeps it for Rose to use if we are attacked by a were gang.”

He disappeared into Ned’s bedroom, returning a moment later with a Mossberg semi-auto shotgun.  It was a tactical model, eighteen-inch barrel, extended magazine tube, attached weapon light, and ghost ring combat sights.  The sling had a bunch of extra shells attached to the sewn-on webbing.

“Can you handle this?” he asked Stacia, looking at her uncertainly.

She didn’t answer, just took the gun from him and expertly checked the chamber by reaching over the top the gun to pull the bolt back with her left hand, her right hand holding the grip, trigger finger indexed above and alongside the trigger guard.  Then she pointed the muzzle at the ground and looked up at him.

“My dad was an Army Ranger, my uncle is a Vermont State Trooper.  I got this,” she said firmly.

Jep glanced my way, obviously impressed, but all he said was, “I’m going to go Change.”

At the word Change, Awasos flickered and suddenly expanded into his full bear mode.  Despite himself, Jep fell back a step.

“That’s… awesome!” he said.  “But I’m gonna need a minute or two.”

He went back into his Alpha’s bedroom and after a few moments, we heard the sound of bones breaking and crunching as he rebuilt himself into something larger.

When he stepped back out, he was damned impressive.  Over eight feet tall, and he had to weigh close to five hundred pounds.  Black fur covered the massive muscles that corded his limbs, torso, and legs.  His jaws would easily close over a grown man’s head.  But his eyes still held their full measure of human intelligence and feeling.

“Okay, here’s how it goes.  ‘Sos, you’re up first.  Just go right through the door and kill anything you find on the other side.  Me next, then Jep, and finally Stacia.  Stacia, I want you to stand overwatch on me when I sit down.  Blast anything that gets by these two,” I instructed, pointing at the bear and wolfman, who both looked offended at the implication that anything could get past them.

“Specifically, the ones that crawl on the ceiling,” I said to her but looked sideways at the two massive forms next to her. That appeared to mollify their wounded egos.

With everybody clear on the plan, I opened the staircase door and looked up at the next door at the top of the stairs.  It was bowing out against the spikes I had nailed in place, flexing like something monstrous was pushing on it repeatedly.

“'Sos, you’re up!”

More than a half-ton of supernatural muscle and bone shoved passed me, flowing up the stairs in a remarkably graceful blur.  The door at the top of the stairs, its attached frame, and whatever had been pushing on it all disappeared in a crash.  I was right behind him, Grim directing my actions as we jumped into the hellish scene.  Something with tentacles squirmed under the door, its motions frantic at the crushing weight of my were-bear standing on top of it.

Awasos batted a big scorpion-looking thing across the room.  The arachnid bounced off the plaster and came back with a wicked-looking barbed tail.  My mono-edged right hand sliced the tail off while my left foot smashed a roundhouse kick right through its chitinous carapace.

Jep bounded into the room and tore into another monster that leaped out of the bedroom.  This one was only human-sized, and it had no chance against the enraged werewolf.  I realized that till this point, Jep had been helpless against the monsters that had assaulted his daughter.  But now they were coming through the passage in their true forms, something I had feared might happen but was supposedly against the Accords agreed to by Lucifer and God. It gave the giant werewolf an appropriate target for his rage.  The demon was literally torn into tiny, bloody pieces in a split second.

Every demonic monster in the sitting room was dead or dying by the time Stacia stepped through the doorway.  She had activated the shotgun’s flashlight and had the gun in the ready position with the butt touching her shoulder and the barrel pointed low and forward.  Damned if she didn’t look like she knew what she was doing.

Awasos roared and plunged into the bedroom. I went hot on his heels, Jep pounding along behind me.  Awasos stiffened both front legs and slammed on the brakes, sliding to a sudden stop.  I piled into his furry rump, then Grim took us straight to the ceiling as giant Jep smashed into my bear in a were pileup.  The big wolfman bounced off my bear, who hardly noticed, his attention intent on keeping from falling into the swirling black hole that now took up two-thirds of the room.  It had spread into the walls and floor, swallowing the beds and smashed dressers completely.

Awasos moved right, taking up most of the remaining floor space on that side of the room.  Jep mirrored his action by assuming a guard point on the left.  I dropped back to the floor and settled into a crossed-leg sitting position that was only a mantra shy of a meditation pose.  Stacia moved up behind me, standing with her gun pointed at the center of the room.

“Okay, here goes,” I said, settling into my spot.  Ideas and knowledge unfolded in my brain; information just suddenly appearing where none had been before.  Part of me was analyzing the opening with thoughts and words not my own. Concepts of gluons, quarks, and tachyons flashed across my mind as I gazed at the ragged shape of the opening.  My right hand directed a thin stream of aura into the broken edge nearest me.  A violet line snaked along the fractal curves and jagged outline of the portal, moving clockwise around the opening.  Part of me understood that the opening had originally corkscrewed open from a pinpoint in a counter-clockwise motion; widdershins, as my Scots ancestors were prone to call it.  Moving against the natural clockwise motion of the sun was considered bad luck in olden days, and my sudden profound knowledge of particle physics told me there may have been something solid behind that belief.

The glowing violet line circled back toward me, beginning to highlight an opening that had more broken lines than the coast of Maine.

“It will never work, Gordon.  You will fail, miserably.”

The words came from nowhere and everywhere.  The others all jumped as they heard them, too.

“Ignore them,” I said, gritting my teeth and feeding more aura into the line.

My abilities with my aural power had grown immeasurably since meeting Tanya, but I had never extended an unbroken line of power longer than thirty feet or so. The zigs and zags of the opening made it by far the longest distance I had ever projected.  The far side of the opening was only eleven feet overhead where it ate into the attic rafters, but my raggedy line of aura was already over a football field long.

The neon purple snake was now three-quarters of the way around the opening, but I was already feeling the drain.

“This isn’t your problem, Gordon.  The Almighty has given you nothing to work with.  You’re separated from the one you belong with, who cares more about her people than about you!”

Then six swarming nightmares came through the gate at once, from almost every part of the opening.

'Sos and Jep swung at the ridiculously fast demons with limited success.  The giant werebear’s claws ripped across the back of one twisted, black-thorned carapace, wringing a horrific screech from the wounded thing.  Jep missed on his first swipe but caught his target in giant jaws as it jumped like a leaping spider to get away.  Black blood spurted as his razor teeth scissored together, chopping the monster in half but leaving the wolfman sputtering and spitting to get the vile blood out of his mouth.

Stacia’s shotgun boomed three times fast.  Her first shot missed, but the second and third reduced a ceiling-clinging horror to rancid paste.  She swung the barrel over and killed another with a single shot that blasted it back through the gateway.  A third leaped at her from behind, but my Grim-wired senses were locked on and my power flow crawled to a trickle as my left hand Pulled the demon out of mid-air, flinging it back through the portal on the heels of its buckshot-blasted companion.

“Thanks,” she said, feeding fresh shells into her Mossberg.  I just nodded and brought the stream of aura back up to its former level.

“Look at you, Gordon.  Barely begun and almost empty.  You can’t do this.  You haven’t the power.”

“Fuck you.  I haven’t even tapped into my fancy Star Trek dilithium crystal wonder necklace yet.”

Stacia looked at me like I was nuts, even as 'Sos brought both paws together on another demon, crushing it like Elder Fedor several years ago.   His eyes shining lava red, Awasos roared out his victory in grizzly speak for “Bring It!”

Seeing him channel the essence of the giant spirit bear he used to be lifted my mood immeasurably.  The angel-infused packet of knowledge in my head judged the moment right to tap into my reserve.  My left hand grabbed the black God Tear gem around my neck and pulled power from it in a way I hadn’t know I could. It was like opening the flood gates on a dam.  A torrent rushed through me, running from my left hand to my center, then out my right hand. I could feel my body virtually vibrating with energy. The flow of power tripled instantly and the line encircling the gate rushed the rest of the way around to arrive back at my hand, leaving the entire gate outlined in neon violet.

I had finished the first step, a major achievement, but I had so far to go.  The mental hitchhiker in my mind outlined the next step.  The line of power around the gate had a similar function to the cord in the waistband of sweatpants or a soldier’s dufflebag.  I needed to draw the line taut.

I push power with my right hand and pull it with my left, which meant I had to somehow pass the line of power from my right to my left and then grab the God Tear with my right.  All without letting the line of energy around the opening slip away.  I’m fast—thousandth-of-a-second fast, but quantum particles are unimpressed with that kind of speed.  I couldn’t break physical contact with my drawstring of energy or it would cease, like breaking an electrical circuit.

Obviously, I had to connect my two hands to make the switch.  Ducking my head, I pulled the God Tear necklace over it, fighting it past my ears which, of course, were just big enough to get caught on the silver chain. After a struggle with my own ears, it finally came free.

That minor battle done, I brought my left hand down to the floor to touch my right, which was still flat on the remnants of the carpet. The angel-forged silver necklace flopped forward, right over the edge of the chasm in front of me.  Immediately, it went taut, like the harpoon line in the movie Jaws.  My hands were yanked forward, almost coming off the floor, which would have broken contact with my neon purple drawstring.  Pulling back against whatever force had taken the chain, I concentrated on passing the Tear from my left to my right hand while moving the anchor of the violet cord from right to left.  The necklace yanked free of whatever had been holding it and came skittering up onto the floor.

A scaled, taloned hand sprang up over the edge in front of me like some twisted trapdoor spider from hell, grabbing the chain.  A death-bloated face followed it.  Father Prescott looked even worse than the last time I’d seen him, although his face was much more animated.  His eyesockets were empty, bleeding holes, but that didn’t stop him from locking his unholy gaze on my face.

“Left me behind, Gordon.  That wasn’t very Christian of you, was it?  Leaving my remains to the hospitality of Hell!  They didn’t even offer me dinner.  But I think I’ll have a bite or two now.”

His mouth opened so far that his lower head split back, revealing a spike-toothed maw that would swallow my whole face.  Than he sprang.

Both hands were on the floor, still shifting the Tear and the line of power.  My legs were crossed in front of me, but if I could shift fast enough, I might be able to swing my left leg up and stop his attack. My foot hit his rib cage, knocking his body slightly to my right and briefly slowing his attack.  He shifted back, knocking my leg aside with his scabby, scaly hand, then shoved forward, needle mouth gaping wide.

A black gun barrel shoved forward over my shoulder and fired four fast, ear-shattering blasts of buckshot into his toothy face, each shot blowing ever-increasing amounts of his skull away.  The final shot left a white, priest-collared neck stump that oozed black, tar-like blood.  The shotgun barrel pushed against the scrawny chest of the possessed priest’s body, shoving it back over the edge into hell.

“Thanks. That was close,” I told Stacia.

“I hate it when clergy get pushy,” she said as she stuffed more shells into the Mossberg.

Hand transfer completed, I started to pull in the violet draw cord through my left hand.  Now I had a new problem.  The massive power I had pumped into the outline of the portal was flooding back into me, filling me to capacity and threatening to overflow.  I reversed the method I had used to draw power from the Tear, instead pumping the excess energy into the gem.  It worked, the black God Tear pulsing with each surge of violet energy that I managed to stuff into it.

The broken edge of the portal nearest my left hand straightened as the slack was pulled from the cord of power.  Aural power like I had never felt flowed into me as everything I had previously drained from myself, along with the massive reserve pulled from the gem, came back to me.  Like winding up a never-ending, violet glowing extension cord or hitting the retract button on one of those spring-wound doggy leashes.

On it came, a pulsing torrent of energy.  At first, the gate remained the same, but after a full two minutes, the edges of the portal grew noticeably closer to each other.  The fractal line continued to straighten out and pull smooth.  After five minutes, it was back to the dimensions of the back wall of the room, as it had been the night before, when I had first seen it.  A minute after that, it was a roughly circular opening of roughly eight feet or so.

Jep started throwing demonic body parts back through the closing hole and after a second, Awasos joined in.  When the final length of purple cord zipped into my hand and the hell portal pinged shut, most of the foul remains were gone.  The giant wolf man was left holding an oversized black crab claw, which he tossed down on the blackened floor.

The walls, ceiling, and floor were back and solid, although the carpet hadn’t returned. It ended in a clean cut where the opening had been when the portal was at its largest.

I slumped down where I sat, completely drained of strength, yet humming with aura power.  The God Tear was noticeably larger than before, maybe 20 percent larger than it had been.

Awasos and Jep looked at me, both faces asking the same unspoken question.

“It’s done.  We closed it,” I told them.  It was a true statement.  My senses couldn’t detect anything other than wood, lathe, plaster, and, of course, pools of demon blood that were starting to sputter and steam.

Chapter 14

We were battered and torn, but no one had any life-threatening injuries. The cuts and scrapes we did have were already healing.  After pronouncing the Portal closed and the room safe, we all trooped back downstairs.  Jep immediately retreated to his boss’s room, where he had left his clothes.

Stacia found a rag and wiped down the shotgun, cleaning the demon blood off the exterior.

“You missed a few spots,” I commented.

Frowning, she turned the gun this way and that but couldn’t see any more ichor and slime.  I pointed at her face, specifically her cheek, so she glanced in a mirror that hung in the hallway.

“Eeww!  Demon crud!” she said, finding other bits and spots of shattered and spattered hellspawn.

“Got any clothes in the car? I’m sure you could take a shower,” I said.

“You need one, too,” she said, shotgun braced on one cocked hip.  Then she grinned. “We could take one together and use less water.  Save the planet and all that!”

I frowned at her, and she started to laugh.  “Kidding!  I couldn’t resist. Damn, you’re easy to tease,” she said with an arched right eyebrow.  Then she turned and headed downstairs to the car, where I suspected she had a spare outfit or six.

“I can find some clothes for you, sir, if you want to clean up,” Jep rumbled from the doorway to Granger’s room.  He was dressed, back in human form, and his wet hair indicated that he had  taken the time to shower as well.

“I suppose it would be best,” I said.  “And, it’s Chris, not sir.”

“Yes sir, Chris.  I’ll keep that in mind, sir,” he said, his mouth twitching in what might have been a grin.  I think I understood.  Jep didn’t sir people lightly, but I had managed to earn his respect.

Stacia came bounding back up the stairs, still carrying the Mossberg but holding a pink dufflebag in her other hand.  Jep pointed her at a guest bedroom and attached bathroom combination into which she disappeared with one last arched look in my direction.  The sound of a shower came moments later.

“Excuse me for asking sir, but are you and her…” Jep asked, clearing his throat first.

“No, Jep, we’re not.  I left my mate in New York City,” I replied.

He nodded his big head knowingly. “She’d be the vampire,” he said.

I looked at him, surprised, and he shrugged.

“You smell of vampires… and weres.  But it’s obvious that the young wolf girl is pretty much smitten with you,” he noted, his voice pitched very quiet.

I was surprised on a few levels.  One, that he could still smell Tanya’s scent on me a week after leaving, with multiple showers and changes of clothes.  Second, that he was much more observant that his appearance warranted.  It’s easy to think of big guys as dumb.  The third thing that surprised me was his use of the word smitten.  Who the hell uses that word anymore?

“I’m on the outs with my girl’s Coven, so getting out of the City seemed like a healthy idea.  Our local Pack thought I could help you guys and accomplish two things at once.”

“Vampire politics suck, pardon the pun, sir,” he said.  “Pack issues are so much simpler, by comparison.”

“Speaking of Pack politics, you have some visitors tonight?” I asked, anxious to change the topic away from my vampire troubles.

“Yes, I need to call Ned and tell him it’s all clear.  It is all clear, right, sir?” he asked.

“Yeah, the house is still creepy, but the demonic part is completely gone,” I replied, touching one wall and feeling the essence of the house.  The shower sounds stopped in the other room.  It had to be a record for female shower times.

“One of the very oldest European Packs is coming tonight.  The Alpha, who is rather famous and greatly respected in our society, has asked Ned if our pack would Foster his children.  Sorta like a werewolf exchange program.  They would see how our pack operates.  After a time, I believe they may even visit your NY pack,” Jep explained, taking out his phone and texting as he spoke.

“Wait, what’s this Alpha’s name?” Stacia asked, yelling from the guest room she had disappeared into.  Figures she was listening in.

“Kral Vrana,” Jep answered, raising his voice just a bit.  “His children are Darina and Janek.  She’s fourteen and he’s eighteen.”

“Oh my god!  Kral Vrana is coming here?  Tonight?” Stacia demanded, poking her head around the doorframe of the guest suite.  Her shoulders were bare and I got the impression she might be wrapped in a towel.

“So this guy is what?  Some kind of werewolf rock star?” I asked.

“He is famous in were society, but not like a rock star,” Jep said.

“More like a famous president or British royalty or something,” Stacia added, wide-eyed.

“You gonna be able to get it ready in time?” I asked Jep.  He put his phone away and I heard cars pull up.

“Should be good.  Much of the Pack has been involved in preparation even while Ned and I were tracking down your help with the demons.  If you hadn’t arrived and taken care of our kids, we’d have cancelled and sent the Vranas north to New York.  There’s been a lot of pressure and worry, which is why, I think, Ned handled things badly last night.  Add in the Feds and Simon’s group, and it’s been a mess,” the giant pack second explained.

“Well, we’ll get out of your hair and wish you luck with your event tonight,” I said.

“Oh, Ned will surely want you and Ms. Reynolds to attend,” Jep said.  “It’s a reception and dinner, starting with cocktails at seven.”

“Oh, we have to get ready, then!” Stacia said before disappearing back into the room.

Downstairs, the front doors opened and we could hear multiple voices as a large group entered the house.

“What’s this guy like?” I asked.

“I’ve never met him, but Ned has.  Very old and wealthy.  Been the Alpha of the Carpathian Pack for decades.  Apparently, there was quite a battle fifty or so years ago.  A rival led a takeover attempt and Kral put it down.  But in the violence and chaos, his mate and child were killed.  He eventually took a new mate, Evka, and the kids were born. Both children are said to be natural Alphas.  So he’s extremely interested in their education in leadership.  Highly protective too, as you might imagine.”

By the time we got downstairs, at least ten people had spread throughout the house.  Jep’s wife, Lisa, patted my arm and gave her husband a quick hug as she hurried by with a group of werewolf women.  She glanced curiously at me, and I realized I was still a mess from the portal closing.  More cars pulled up outside and a steady stream of decorators, caterers, and cleaning people flowed into the big house.  Jep was pulled aside to discuss security arrangements by three male weres who ignored me.  The giant were paused to gravely thank me for closing the portal, causing the security weres to give me a second glance before they jumped back into their questions and reports.

Awasos and I escaped outside, sitting on some giant ornamental lawn boulders while we waited for Stacia.  She showed up about ten minutes later, hair still wet and wearing only the most minimum of makeup.

“Come on.  We’ve got important work to do.  We’ve got to get ready!” she said, grabbing my arm and towing me toward the car.  “You need a suit, and I’ve got to figure out what to wear.”

“Why can’t I just wear khaki’s and a golf shirt?”

“Listen hotshot, Kral Vrana heads the oldest and biggest pack in the world.  He’s a legend.  So I for one want to make a good impression and you seem to be running low on friends and high on enemies.  You might want to consider putting your best foot forward.”

Dammit if she wasn’t right.  I had a big chunk of the Coven against me – I didn’t need a huge pack of werewolves on my case.  As much as I hated clothes shopping I couldn’t fault her logic.  Time to man up.

Chapter 15

The next few hours were spent in a whirlwind of shopping and preparing.  First, we found a men’s clothing store at the local mall, and Stacia swiftly picked out a decent charcoal gray suit that, while not Armani, was still more expensive than anything I’d ever owned before.  She negotiated for the few alterations necessary to be done immediately and paid with a black Lupine Industries Visa card.  Then we hit a scary large number of stores till she found a cocktail dress that passed her exacting standards.  Next were shoes, and then she hit a salon for professional hair and makeup while I went back to the mall to pick up my suit.  By the time 'Sos and I got back, a very glamorous-looking Stacia awaited us.  Checking her list of preparations, she announced we were cleared to head back to the hotel to get dressed.

My head was reeling, and I reflected that fighting the demon hordes while closing the gate was probably easier than preparing for a cocktail reception with Stacia.

The Pack house had been transformed in the hours since we had left.  A werewolf valet took our car for parking as we headed up the luminary-lined walkway to the main door. It was still light out, but a half-moon was rising over the eastern treeline.

Inside the house, the entire downstairs had taken on a forest theme, with fresh cut boughs of evergreen, potted balsam firs and ferns, and tiny white LED lights strung across the ceilings and even a fully functional stream, somehow set up and running through a corner of the dining room.  The original dining room table had been changed, going from a twelve-person straight antique to a much longer, white-cloth-covered t-shape that had thirty place settings.  The air was rich with delicious food scents that made my saliva glands ache and my stomach rumble.  I could smell roast beef, turkey, and ham, as well as several different scents of potatoes, pasta, and vegetables.

Black-and-white-clad servants, many of them weres, worked their way through the mingling guests with trays of hors d’oeuvres and glasses of champagne and wine.  Granger and his wife Rose were greeting the arriving guests near the front door with handshakes and soft words.  The crowd was mostly weres, but not all wolves.  There were a few werebears, werepumas, and at least one weretiger.  There were also a couple of vampires and a few humans that I thought might be witch types.

A pair of werewolves finished being welcomed by the Grangers and moved further into the party.  Ned and Rose looked up to see who was next, spotting the three of us.  With a small cry, Rose rushed forward to hug me and Stacia, even hugging 'Sos around his neck.  Most of the guests in the immediate area looked over to see what the fuss was about, but Ned ignored them as he followed his wife’s emotional display with his own, more subdued greeting.  Despite the contained nature of his welcome, the gratitude and honest emotion in his face was as powerful in its own way as Rose’s.

Never comfortable with attention, I tried to ignore the curious stares of the party goers, but it wasn’t easy, particularly as they took note of the giant wolf pressed against my leg.

“We can never thank you for what you have done for us!” Rose said as she stepped back to give me enough room to shake her husband’s hand.

“Not necessary, Mrs. Granger,” I said uncomfortably.

She picked up on it immediately.  “Is he always so humble?” she asked Stacia.

“About exorcisms, yes. Anything else and he’s a straight-up braggart,” Stacia answered, then laughed at my outraged expression.  “Just kidding—he’s very modest, for the most part.”

“He seemed pretty sure of himself facing us down last night at the bar,” Granger noted.

“He’s a whole different person when it comes to a fight,” Stacia said, looking at me sideways.

“If he fights like he handles demonic assault, then I can see why,” a deep voice rumbled as Jep and his wife Lisa moved into our circle.

His huge hand swallowed mine as he shook it. When he released it, his wife pushed forward to grab it in her own two smaller hands.  Her grip was almost as fierce, and the glimmer of tears that swam behind her eyes froze me in place.  “Thank you,” she whispered, unable to project her voice any louder.  Not knowing what else to say, I settled for a simple, “You’re welcome.”

Stacia rolled her eyes at my awkwardness as she hugged Lisa.  Part of me couldn’t help but notice we were still the center of much attention.  Luckily, someone else appeared in the door behind us and Ned moved to welcome them.  Rose hung back with Jep, Lisa, and the three of us for a moment, patting my shoulder and 'Sos’s head before joining her husband.

Jep herded us away from the entrance and into the company of several other weres who I recognized from the bar the night before.

“This is Sandy Tillman,” he introduced, pointing to a lanky six footer with ginger hair.  “He’s the Pack accountant.  On his right is Coreena Tsao, Asheville’s finest firefighter.”

Ms. Tsao was only a hair over five feet tall but looked like a gymnast.  “How do you spell Tsao?” I asked.

“T-s-a-o?” she replied, black hair falling to one side as she tilted her head, obviously curious.

“Oh, I know a lady who spells it T-z-a-o,” I said with a shrug.

“Next to her is Gabe Fontz, who does a great impression of a lawyer by day,” Jep continued, pointing out a squat guy with curly auburn hair and pale blue eyes.

“You already met Malcolm, Rose’s nephew,” Jep said, smacking the embarrassed teen on his shoulder and almost knocking him over.  I nodded hello, amused by how brightly the kid blushed when Stacia reached over to shake his hand.

A commotion behind us at the entry interrupted Jep before he could continue.  We all swung around to look at the main doorway where a large group of weres had just entered.

Immaculately dressed in Euro-style suits and dresses, they were proceeded by a lean, dangerous-looking man whose hair was almost the same shade of blonde as Stacia’s and gray eyes that looked like chips of slate.  He scanned the room professionally, then stepped aside to allow a middle-aged man, whose dark hair was frosted on the sides with gray, to step into the house.  Dark, almost black eyes took in every detail and every person before settling on Ned and Rose Granger.  He strode ahead to meet them, hand out to shake Granger’s hand.

Behind him came a brunette in a burgundy cocktail dress who looked to be in her mid-twenties, attractive but hard-looking and sporting a faint, thin, three-inch scar on her right cheek.  A teen male and early teen female followed her, obviously siblings.  Dark brown hair and dark eyes, they were both attractive, richly dressed, and wearing matching bored/arrogant expressions.

Almost every being in the room had sensitive enough hearing to hear Kral Vrana introduce his wife, Evka, and children, Janek and Darina.  We all watched as the guest of honor took center stage.  My gaze met the blond bodyguard’s as he scanned for threats, and he paused for a split second to evaluate me before continuing his sweep.

Rose motioned to a Pack member behind her, and the twins, Cassi and Polly, were ushered over to be introduced to the Vranas.  Dressed in matching white dresses, the girls looked a far cry from either the possessed monsters I’d wrestled with the night before or the bedraggled, newly cleansed little girls I'd last seen.  They smiled and charmed Kral, curtsied for Evka, and met the superior-acting Vrana children.  After a few moments, Rose released them and they started to move back to their minder but spotted Awasos, then me and Stacia.  Shyly, they came across the floor and petted 'Sos.  Stacia complimented them on their dresses, and their shyness evaporated in the face of fashion.  Polly showed Stacia how well her shoes matched the dress, one leg out and toe pointed.  Cassi slid over my way and pulled out her bear fetish necklace.

“I know he’s a wolf, but he reminds me of my bear,” she said, pointing from the necklace to 'Sos.  “Polly says her Hugo is closer to him, but I think he’s kind of bearlike, too.”

“You’re absolutely right. He is bearlike,” I agreed.  I glanced back at the group around the Grangers and discovered Kral studying us.  His gaze was very curious as he took in the wolf being hugged by the girls, but it changed to a more intense interest at the full sight of Stacia.

He asked Granger a question and the Asheville Alpha swiveled around to look at our group, then began answering Kral’s question as he led him our way.

As he got closer, I could see people reacting to his presence.  Charisma, force of personality, whatever you want to call it, he had it.  Dapper and trim, he was more than the wealthy businessman he had appeared to be at first glance.  Looking middle-aged for a werewolf meant being a lot older than that.  He could easily be in his eighties, nineties, or even one hundred.

Fit, intense, and very focused were the adjectives that popped into my mind as he was ushered into our presence.  Ned introduced Stacia as the liaison for the New York Pack and me as a borrowed problem solver.  That description caught Vrana’s interest even in the face of his obvious interest in Stacia.

Evka, his wife, was watching and frowning while next to her, Rose Granger was carrying on about something. Her eyes narrowed at her husband, who was kissing Stacia’s hand.

Noticing her distracted audience, Rose looked over to see where her husband and Kral had gone.  Suddenly uncomfortable, she nonetheless brought the rest of the Vrana family over to meet us.

“Evka, this young lady is Afina Mallek’s assistant,” Kral explained when he realized his wife was standing next to him.

“The New York Alpha?  Shouldn’t she be in New York, assisting?” Evka wondered in a droll tone that left no doubt as to where she wished my stunning partner was.   Stacia, who had looked very starstruck when introduced to Kral, picked up on the jealous vibe instantly.

“Because the Malleks value Mr. Gordon’s services so much that they sent Afina’s right hand to guide him,” Rose said.

“Is he that vulnerable that he needs such a pretty guardian?” Janek asked, showing the same interest in Stacia that his father had.

“Ms. Reynolds isn’t here to guard Mr. Gordon from us… she’s here to guard us from Mr. Gordon,” a rumbling voice stated.  Jep had moved into the conversation.  Ned immediately introduced him as his second-in-command.  Kral reciprocated by introducing the lean blond male as Bodan, his second and right hand.

Evka laughed in an unfriendly way.  “You Americans are so funny.  A joke, no?  To think a wolf would fear a human,” she said.

“He’s not human, Mother,” the girl, Darina said suddenly.  Everybody turned to her, but her attention remained on me.  “He’s not were, not really.  He also smells a little of vampire, but again, not really.  It’s perplexing,” she said, tilting her head to regard me as if I was a new species of bug.

The adults, at least the American ones, looked puzzled by her words.  The Euro wolves, however, took it as matter of fact.

“My daughter has the best nose of any were on the planet,” Kral noted proudly.  It was an odd statement.  If he’d had said she had eyes like an eagle or the most sensitive hearing, I’d have just nodded and moved on.  But saying she had the best nose made her sound like a prized hunting hound.

Her brother, Janek, leaned forward and sniffed near me, his arrogant smirk changing to a curious frown.  “You’re right, Rina. He does smell a little like both.  I can barely detect it, though. I smell bear, too.”

“Of course I’m right,” she replied with a sniff.  “The bear smell is him,” she said pointing at Awasos.  “What are you, Mr. Gordon?  And what is he?”

I shrugged.  “No one knows... about me, that is.  Awasos is a were bear-wolf.”

“A bear and a wolf and a person?  Come on!  No way,” Janek said with a nasty chuckle.

“You’re right.  He’s not all three.  Just wolf and bear,” I replied, locking eyes with the arrogant youth.  He stared right back, his Alpha instincts kicking in.

“Bullshit!  You’re making that up,” he said.  His mother rested one hand on his arm but otherwise said nothing.  The whole family leaned in, waiting to see how I would respond.

“'Sos, please Change,” I asked my furry pal quietly.

Suddenly a wall of fur stood next to me, his head brushing the ceiling eleven feet overhead.  I noted that he’d grown a bit taller.

The space around us cleared instantly as people got themselves out of the danger zone, although to my mind, you’d need to be off the estate entirely to be out of 'Sos’s danger zone.

Drinks splashed as the people holding them reeled back from the giant grizzly, even the werebears falling back in alarm.

The Vranas and Grangers were frozen in place, eyes wide, looking up, up, up at the mass of fur and muscle standing quietly by my side.  Stacia placed one hand on 'Sos’s massive side, using it to brace herself while she casually fixed her shoe strap, having first handed me her drink.

Her nonchalance brought the others back to earth, forcing them to recover a bit of their cool attitude.  They were, however, not quite so superior.

I patted my bear and gave him a nod, and he blurred in that eye-scrambling manner of his back into his wolf form.

Everyone was still shocked, which for a party of supernaturals, is quite an achievement.

“That was… amazing!” Janek conceded.  “Where did you get him?  I want one.”

“Ah, he’s one of a kind and the circumstances of his birth would be exceedingly difficult to replicate,” I said, thinking of elder gods, giant bears, and dark rites.

“Ned said you were a problem solver?  What problems do you solve?” Kral asked, attempting to recover control of the conversation.

I wasn’t sure how much the Grangers wanted me to say, so I hesitated.  Ned interjected before I could answer.  “Mr. Gordon is a specialist in dealing with demons.  We had an issue, and he resolved it.”

To his credit, Granger hadn’t ever seen 'Sos Change before, but he was handling it much better than his guest.  Possibly Jep had filled him in.  His giant second-in-command had simply moved his wife and the Grangers back a step when he saw that I was going to ask 'Sos for a demonstration.

Kral’s interest was palpable, his eyes gleaming with curiosity as he swung around to look at Granger.  “You had an issue with demons?” he asked, glancing back at me but focused on Ned.

Ned considered for a moment then spoke.  “Our twins and another daughter of the Pack were all possessed this time last night,” he said.

Vrana’s eyebrows shot up and he turned to look at the girls, who were shyly hiding behind their mother, both fingering their necklaces.  “Truth?” he asked, his expression a blend of disbelief and horror.

“Truth, Mr. Vrana!” Jep rumbled.  “Our Lindsey was the third.”

I noticed the rest of the party had gone silent, all of the guests focusing their sensitive ears on the conversation in front of me.

“How is such a thing possible?  How could it happen?” Vrana asked.  He was truly, deeply interested in the topic, to the point where I wondered if he had personal experience with Hell’s children.

“Chris, you can probably explain better than I,” Ned suggested, glancing around and frowning at all the listening guests.  This obviously wasn’t the direction he had wanted the party to take.

“Ah, this house was built in the early nineteen hundreds by a man who was fascinated with the occult.  He used the house as the site of séances, dark ceremonies, and, most likely, at least several sacrifices.  Some of these rites were conducted by true adepts.  We think that a gate spell was partially completed years ago and the children unknowingly finished it.  The portal opened a path to Hell, and the girls were the first victims.”

“These two girls and one other were all possessed just twenty-four hours ago?  And here they are… in party dresses?” Kral asked, incredulous.

“Chris is very good at exorcism,” Stacia supplied.

“What about the portal?” Evka asked sharply.  “You said there was an open portal to Hell in this house?”

“You know, this may be a topic for after dinner,” Ned said suddenly.  He was noticing how everyone in the room was leaning in to listen to our conversation, all pretext of holding their own conversations gone.

“That’s a good idea,” I agreed. “I’m sure there are many more interesting people to meet.”

“Many yes.  More interesting?  Not remotely likely,” Vrana said.  “We will talk, Mr. Gordon.”

“Actually, I’d be interested in hearing about an open Hell Gate,” a masculine voice said from just outside our group.  A young man in a well-cut gray suit was smiling, a curious look on his face.

“Ah, Samuel!  I suspect you would find it of interest,” Ned said, greeting the newcomer.  “Kral, this is Samuel Cooper, who, despite his youthful appearance, is the leader of one of Asheville’s most prominent Circles.”

I didn’t understand circles for a moment till I remembered that witches grouped together in circles of twelve or more, kind of like their own little Packs.

“One of our Circles, but not the most prominent one,” a female voice said from the other side of our group.  An older woman stood there, thin and bony, dressed in a black dress that would have looked more appropriate for a funeral.

“Yes, Cercia, of course, we have such luck to live in close proximity to not one, but two powerful circles,” Ned said soothingly, although there might have been a slight tone of sarcasm buried in that sentence.

“Cercia Swallows is the leader of the Circle of the Eastern Star,” Ned explained to Vrana and company while Stacia and I exchanged a smirk at the witch’s unfortunate last name.  “Samuel’s circle is known as the White Oak Circle.”

“Ned, I don’t understand why you didn’t consult with me when your children were threatened?” Samuel asked.

“Our children weren’t threatened, Sam. They were fully possessed.  Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but witchcraft is usually associated with summoning demons, not exorcising them,” Ned responded.

“Yes, the darker side of the Art is, unfortunately, linked with summoning.  But the lighter side has long traditions of protecting and dispelling evil,” Samuel said, his eyes intense.

“We didn’t even know witchcraft was involved until Mr. Gordon had already cleansed our children.  After the church failed,” Ned said smoothly.  “But I could have used your advice not to buy this house in the first place.  Please don’t tell me that either of your circles was ignorant of its history.”

Cercia’s dark eyes glittered as she spoke up.  “Why should the Eastern Star have jumped forth to help you when your Pack hardly gives us the time of day?”

“Gee, I don’t know?  Maybe because stepping up and warning us might have endeared us to you?  Might have healed rifts long in place?” he said before turning back to Samuel.  “But what I don’t understand is why the White Oak neglected to warn us?  How much mutual business and aid has passed between us, Sam?”

The warlock was smooth, I had to grant him that.  “This house had some rumors floating about it, I’ll admit, but nothing that truly warranted warning you off.”

“That’s odd, because my wife’s nephew was able to find out enough dirt on the old shack to fill a research paper.  Right off the Internet, right, Malcolm?” Granger asked the young were standing off to the side.

Malcolm blushed a bit but firmed up and nodded.

“Nonetheless, Ned, you should have come to me at the first sign of trouble, not bring in some unknown outsiders,” Samuel said with a derisive wave in my direction.  His glance at Stacia was apologetic, but he kept his attention on Granger.

“You know, Samuel, had I known the history before Mr. Gordon and Ms. Reynolds were here, I might have done just that.  But when my daughters started crawling on the ceiling, I thought it wise to bring in the very best,” he said, voice tight with anger.

“The best?  This is the best?” the warlock said with a derisive wave in my direction.  “An ex-cop, a model, and a freak!”

“'Sos!  Go piss on his car!” I said aside to my furry pal, who immediately plowed through the crowd and left the party, hopefully to do just that.  Part of me was considering how he knew I was an ex-cop.

Samuel turned angry eyes in my direction and began to gather something that looked like smoky blackness in his right hand.  The crowd started to clear, and Ned moved right into Samuel’s face.  “Do it, Cooper!  Launch whatever spell you have up your sleeve at the man who saved my children.  Then see how things go,” he said in a clear, angry voice.  Jep moved up behind Cooper, looming over the angry warlock.

Chapter 16

For my part, I wasn’t exactly thrilled that Granger was going to let him throw down on me before kicking ass, but I did appreciate the sentiment.  Grim wasn’t so ambivalent, though, as a suit of aural armor had appeared over my body.  I think it was mostly invisible to the bulk of the guests, but Cercia’s eyes widened as she looked at me, and she edged back from the brewing conflict.  Sam Cooper either couldn’t see aura or was too distracted by the angry Alpha werewolf in his face.   He grimaced, then took a step back and let the blackness dissipate.

“I’m sorry, Ned.  I don’t often lose my temper,” Cooper apologized. “I shouldn’t have gone for a spell.”

“You shouldn’t have insulted our guests in the first place!” a female voice admonished.  Rose Granger stood just to her husband’s side, glaring at the warlock.

“Roselyn, I beg your forgiveness,” Cooper said smoothly and with some real sincerity. “Perhaps you may still let me see the portal?”

“There is no portal.  Do you honestly think I would let my children or my guests into a house with an open gateway to Hell?  Mr. Gordon closed it and sealed it this afternoon.”

The young male witch and the old female had matching expressions of shock at Rose’s announcement.  Same open mouths, same wide eyes, and each even leaned back a bit.

“That’s impossible!  No single witch could close a dimensional gateway by themselves.  Why, it would take both our circles, working together, to close such a rift!” Cercia said.

“I do not believe that Mr. Gordon is a witch at all—are you, Chris?” Rose asked, turning to me.

“No ma’am.  Not a witch,” I agreed.

“Are you certain it’s closed?” Cooper asked urgently.

“Wouldn’t you be able to sense it if it wasn’t?” Rose responded.  “It is sealed off, isn’t it, Chris?”

“Yes, ma’am. Sealed tight.”

Both witches looked from me to Rose and back again.  I got the distinct impression that both their nights were ruined. The Grangers might have gotten the same impression.

“So you both came here tonight to see the portal?  That’s why you came, isn’t it?” Ned asked, eyes flashing.  Vrana and family were watching the whole scene play out, highly interested.

“Ned, an open dimensional gate is a big deal… huge, really.  One that allegedly connects to Hell is even more so,” Cooper said.

“How did you know?  That there was a portal here at all?” I asked, curious.

That question hadn’t, apparently, occurred to the Grangers, because both Alphas turned sharply focused glares on the now decidedly defensive witches.

“Ah, tears in the fabric of our reality cause a disturbance in the energy that we use,” Cercia explained.

“But yet you didn’t show up to help?” Ned asked dangerously.  “Let’s see if I have this right. You knew there was a nasty history to this house tied to magic, yet neither Circle chose to purchase the property for study.  Neither Circle chose to warn us, either.  Then, after we move in and you sense a rip in the dimensions, you still hang back to see what happens.  We throw a party, and you’re both here with bells on to get a peek at the results?  Is that pretty much how it is?”

“Ah, Ned it’s not like that,” Cooper began.

“Actually, it is,” Cercia said, eyes flashing.  “There is no love lost between us, Alpha!  Why shouldn’t I let you take the risks?”

“Wow, Cercia!” Ned said, eyebrows raised.  Then he nodded. “Thank you for the honesty at least.  That I can appreciate.  But you, Cooper, you’re supposed to be an ally?  The Asheville Pack and the Oak Circle have always supported each other.”

“I think you’re looking at this the wrong way, Ned,” Cooper began, but stopped when he saw rage flash across Granger’s face.  “At least tell me if you found the book?”

“What book would that be, Sam?  And how do you know of it?”

“Listen, you’re angry, Ned. I get that.  You have good reason, but that book is dangerous!  If you’ve found it, you need to get it into the hands of someone who can properly contain it.”

“Like you contained the secret that this house was a magical trap that would trigger with the right circumstances?  I think we’ll stick with the guy that not only reversed the damage but sealed the portal.  If we find a book, we’ll let Mr. Gordon handle it.  But for now, I think it would be best if you both left, along with any guests you may have brought with you.”

Cooper looked like he might say something more, but he snapped his mouth shut at the last second.  Turning to the crowd, he raised his hand to a plain-looking young woman who had blended into the crowd.  She looked rattled by the heated exchange as she followed Cooper out.

A slender young man appearing to be in his late twenties moved out of the crowd to take

Cercia’s arm.  He looked like he could be her relation.

Cercia turned to me as the young warlock moved to her side.  “I’m curious about the shape of the armor you shield yourself with, Mr. Gordon.  Actually about a great many things, but the armor seems familiar?”

“It’s a copy of Iron Man’s armor, Grandmother.  You know, the comic book turned into a movie?” her grandson explained.  Perhaps the ability to see aura was genetic.

“Oh, that’s more than a bit puerile, isn’t it?  But tell me, Mr. Gordon, just what are you?”

“Hungry and hoping that dinner is soon!” I said with a glance at the Grangers.  The tense crowd laughed, but from the corner of my eye, I caught the dark look that flashed over both witches’ faces.  As one, they turned and left the party.

“My apologies!” Ned said to the group at large.  “Chris, dinner will be served quite soon.  In the meantime, the young lady behind you has some hors d’oeuvres.”

Vrana reclaimed his attention as I turned to look behind me.  The young waitress standing with a tray of bacon wrapped scallops was brown-haired and brown-eyed, looking to be about seventeen or eighteen.  She was also a vampire, and I knew her.

“Katrina?  What are you doing here?” I asked, my hands helping themselves to four bundles of bacon goodness despite my surprise.

“Checking up on you.  Tell me, Chris, are you tapping that?  You banging the blonde bitch?  Have you gone over to the furry side?” she asked smoothly, her tone snarky, her eyes serious.

I gulped down the scallops and focused my gaze on her.  “Katrina, did you just travel seven hundred miles and take a temp job as a waitress to piss me off?  Were you looking to move your age up?  Because I’d be happy to blast you into, oh, say, about sixty-five or so.”

Katrina was one of Tanya’s oldest friends, one of the Outsiders who lived in the sewers that surround Citadel.  She had been turned at the age of twelve, despite all the vampire conventions against it.  Stuck in a preteen body for over a hundred years, she had grown bitter and violent by the time I first met her.  Predictably, she had lashed out at me, and I had stunned her with a blast of aura.  Knocked back to human for three days, she had aged physically from twelve to fifteen.  Tanya had convinced me to zap her again, which had left her looking like a college kid.  That episode should have been a clue to me that my aura could be lethal to ancient vampires, aging them to dust in minutes, but I hadn’t added two and two to get four.

Now she studied me carefully, her nostrils flaring as she blatantly sniffed me.

“Just checking.  Tanya is a might… distraught at your absence, particularly as you are traveling with the furry bitch over there,” she said, her eyes flicking in the direction of Stacia, who was in conversation with Kral and Janek.

“She’s a friend.  She’s had my back without fail, which makes her part of a very, very small group of people.  But why are you here and not Tanya?  Why can’t she come herself?”

“Is that so hard to work out?  I know you’re young and not overly bright, but surely you can understand.  If she leaves the Coven now, the faction that is calling for your death will be unopposed.  You have scared the Coven badly.  Most of the older vampires left as soon as the Conclave was concluded, scurrying back to fortify their homes.  Now even the younger ones are terrified of you. Tanya sent me because I won’t be missed and I don’t buy into the crap that’s getting slung all around.  If she had left New York and come herself, there would be contracts on your life within minutes.”

“How is she?”

“How do you think?  She’s separated from her Chosen and fighting a political campaign for his life.  Then, to top it off, she hears that you’re travelling with little miss werewolf over there.”

“I told you, she’s a friend.”

“I heard you, but did she?  You think she views you as just a friend?”

I didn’t answer right away, which was answer enough.

“Yeah, so you know that much at least,” Katrina said.

“I’ve been gone, what?  Three days?  She said I had to leave and it turns out that I was really, really needed down here.  Stacia was picked by the Malleks to go with me, and you know what?  She’s been a really good friend, nothing more, and she’s doing the job her bosses expect her to.  Yeah, she wants more, but I told her that wasn’t going to happen.”

She tilted her head and studied me for a moment.

“I heard something to the effect that you saved the Alphas’ children and stoppered up some kind of Hell hole or something?”

“It was the first case of multiple possession that I’ve ever heard of.  And there was a dimensional portal to Hell that allowed Demons in physical form to cross over to our world.”

“Bad?”

“Big Bad.  Like a breach of the Accord between Heaven and Hell.  It almost killed me. 'Sos, Stacia, and the Pack Second protected me while I closed it down.”

“So it’s not a problem anymore?”

“This one isn’t.  But the rip was caused by a witch’s spell, and the grimoire that holds that spell is still around.”

“Can’t you destroy it?”

“It resists casual destruction.  I need a trustworthy witch or a handy ocean, neither of which is close by.”

“A book like that has value.  Considerable value.  You have it with you?” she asked.

I knew that Tanya trusted her, but I’ve never warmed up to Katrina.  A century of embittered exile from society of any kind wasn’t a good recipe for mental stability in my book.

“No.  It’s hidden away.”

“Good.  I would suggest that there is no such thing as a trustworthy witch when it comes to a book that powerful.”

I nodded slowly.  “That’s my thought as well.”

“Well, Chris.  I better get back to work, but I’ll be around, keeping an eye on things.  I’m making wicked tips!” she said with a smirk.

I grabbed the rest of the scallops off her tray, wrapping them in a cocktail napkin.  She arched one eyebrow, then nodded behind me.  “Gonna share those with him?”

The crowd behind us was parting to let Awasos through.  He is literally smarter than most humans, but he can’t speak words.  Nonetheless, I’ve learned to read his body language to the point where he can convey complex ideas.  He was very pleased with himself.  The crowd around us watched and listened closely as he came up to me.

“Did you pee on his car?” I asked.  “No?  So what did you do?”

His eyes gleamed with self-satisfaction as a hunch occurred to me.

“You didn’t?” I asked, impressed at the idea. “You did!”

‘What? What did he do, Chris?” Ned asked.  The whole group hung on my next words.

“I think he answered an age-old question, Ned.  It turns out that bears don’t, in fact, shit in the woods—they shit on Sam Cooper’s car!”

Chapter 17

It took a little over four minutes before someone at our end of the table asked about the portal.  The seating order had been set up earlier and we were down on the very end, farthest from the Grangers and Vranas.  That was fine with me, but from the glances we were getting from that end of the table, I could tell some people were frustrated with our placement.

Stacia was across from me, 'Sos on the floor beside the table, gnawing on a beef haunch that Ned had requested special for him.  On my right sat Coreena, the firefighter, and across from her was a very nervous vampire named John.  About eighty years old in vampire years, John was thin and bookish looking and apparently knew exactly who I was.  He sat frozen in place much of the time, which is typical for a disturbed vampire.  Coreena, on the other hand, had been friendly to both Stacia and I, and it was she who asked the first question.

“So there was really a gateway to Hell upstairs?” she asked as Katrina set an appetizer in front of me.  John warily watched the older female vampire, who looked like a college freshman.  Katrina had apparently taken over waiting our end of the table.

“Ah yes,” I said to Coreena before turning to Katrina.  “What’s this?”

“Grilled ostrich with sautéed mushrooms,” she said with a wink.

“And you closed it?  The gate or door or whatever?” Coreena pressed.  The rest of the table on our end had stopped talking and was listening in.

“Yeah, we did,” I said with a nod to both Awasos and Stacia.

Rose’s nephew, Malcolm, was seated next to Coreena, and across from him was John’s date, a twenty-something-looking girl who had only been a vampire for about ten years, I guessed. Her name was Deena and she was much less nervous about me than her date, but she kept quiet and shot curious glances at John.

Malcolm couldn’t contain his curiosity any longer.  “Did you find the book?”

Stacia glared at him, but he either missed it or ignored it.  “You’d probably want to talk to Jep about that,” I said, trying to convey that it wasn’t a good topic.  “But you should have seen some of the monsters that came through, right, Stacia?” I said.

She caught on fast. “Yeah, that tentacle thing will give me nightmares for years.”

Malcolm didn’t look like he was ready to give up on the book, but Coreena leaned forward, blocking him from my view.

“Tentacle thing?  I thought demons would be red tails and pitchforks?” she asked, looking between Stacia and me.  Even John looked interested, relaxing enough to sip his goblet of O negative.

“Well, apparently no one told the demons that because they came in all kinds of shapes and forms,” Stacia said, leaning forward herself.  Malcolm’s face blanked as the angle on Stacia's low-cut cocktail dress shifted downward, which appeared to cause a corresponding drop in his I.Q.

“There were things with claws and pinchers, poisoned tails, things that were shaped like a person but moved on all fours, all kinds of twisted shit,” she said with a shudder that was obviously real.

The lady to Malcolm’s right wormed into the conversation, looking at me as she asked, “And you killed them all?”

“Actually, Stacia and Jep and 'Sos killed them.  I was pretty busy trying to close the damn hole!”

“You did kill that scorpion thing,” Stacia pointed out.

“Nope, I just wounded it. 'Sos stepped on it after I knocked it down.  It kind of splattered.”

“He doesn’t look that heavy?” Deena asked.

“Did you miss him in bear form earlier?” I asked her back.  She looked confused.  “His other form is a really big grizzly.  About twelve hundred pounds or so.”

“Oh,” she said with big eyes.

Katrina pulled our empty appetizer plates and handed them off to another waiter.  She replaced them with bowls of what smelled like seafood chowder.

“So, John, does Asheville have a large contingent of Darkkin?” I asked.

He froze in place for a split second then answered stiffly, “Not large.”

“And you’re the Master for the region?”

His head shook slightly from side to side.  “We’re a subgroup of Charlotte. I answer to the Master there.”

“Oh, I never made it down here during my short stint as a Rover,” I said without really thinking.

“You were a Rover?  But you’re not a vampire?” Deena asked.  John instantly placed his hand over hers in a vampire fast move before turning to me.

“Please don’t take offense, Chosen.  She meant no harm,” he said.

“How could I be offended?  She’s right.  I wouldn’t expect her to know.”

“But the Coven expects her to know, so we have some things to go over later, Deena,” he said, patting her hand but not looking away from me.

“Rover?  Chosen?  What’s all this?” Coreena asked, looking between Stacia and me.

Stacia had a closed-off expression and said nothing, leaving it to me.

“Christian Gordon is the Chosen of Tatiana Demidova and holds high rank in the Coven,” Katrina supplied from behind John and Deena, where she was refilling their glasses with dark red blood.

“The Chosen of the Young Queen?” Deena exclaimed, staring at me.  I shot a small glare at Katrina, but she just smirked it away.

A commotion from the front of the house interrupted the questions.  Loud voices and complaints carried over the table chatter and the disturbance seemed to be getting closer.

The table quieted and a moment later, Simon Masten came into the room dragging a young girl.  His packmate, Bo Morrison, came behind him, holding a young man in a choke hold.

I recognized the girl as Jetta, which made it a pretty safe bet that the young man was her brother, Mack.

“Masten, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” Granger said, jumping to his feet.  Simon looked at him, wild-eyed and trembling with barely controlled violence.

“I found them!  The ones that have been killing my Pack!” he said.  He was wearing jeans, work boots, and a black tee shirt.

“Jetta?  Jetta from my restaurant has been killing your Pack?  Are you insane?”

“No, the FBI figured out it was her.  Ask him!” Simon said, jabbing a finger at me before using that hand to grab Jetta’s red hair to help control her.

All eyes turned my way.  “Chris, what’s he talking about?”

“Agent Krupp and her team think that Jetta and her brother Mack are their prime suspects.  They’re looking for the two of them right now.”

“And you brought them here, Simon?  For what purpose?” Granger asked.

“Justice, Ned.  Justice!  This bitch and her brother killed off most of my Pack, hunting them down like dogs.”

“Excuse me, but am I to understand that a pair of teenage children have successfully hunted and killed more than a half-dozen adult male werewolves?” Vrana asked suddenly.

“You must be Vrana!  Sorry to meet you like this, sir, but this is one smart little viper.  Daddy always told me to watch the redheads.” He lifted the girl, who had been sitting on the floor, both hands clutched to his where they were locked in her hair.  I noticed for the first time that she was wearing form-fitting exercise clothes: a red sleeveless stretch shirt and black yoga pants.  Standing upright, her athletic female form was much more apparent than when I had seen her dressed in a baggy, ill-fitting waitress uniform.

“She lured my guys in, ya see, one at a time, dressed like this!  Then, while they were distracted by her slutty charms, she’d shot them with that gun!” he said, pointing at Bo, who was easily holding Mack with one arm and a strange looking firearm with the other.  The gun was just over a foot in length, cut down from a single shot rifle and with a slender oil filter mounted on the muzzle

“Clever.  She exploited your men’s’ complete lack of self-control and put them down like rabid animals.  Perhaps for the best,” Vrana said before turning to Granger.  “Is this what I can expect my children to learn?”

“No, Kral.  You can expect your children to learn what doesn’t work from an example like Simon,” Granger said before turning back to Simon.  “What are you doing, Simon?  Why did you bring them here?  The FBI is tracking them, and you dragged them here?”

“I brought them here to show you and your highbrow friends how a real Alpha handles an attack on his Pack,” Masten said, lifting one arm and shifting it into a clawed beast paw.

There was no in-between moment; I was just instantly there, holding his pawed arm.  The wind from my movement blew Stacia’s hair straight back and pulled petals from the centerpiece flowers on the table.  The decision to act wasn’t detailed or planned out.  I just wasn’t going to watch any more young people die in my presence without an objection—a strong objection.

Simon, frozen to my perceptions as I moved across the room, resumed normal movement, jumping at my sudden presence.  “Wha…? Get the hell off me!” he yelled, jumping back and shaking his arm, trying to free it from my grip.  He also released Jetta when he jumped, which gave me an opportunity to move my body between them.

Awasos was there next, moving and herding the girl back toward her brother and the young were who held him.   Lava red eyes fixed like lasers on Bo, who took the hint and released his hostage.

Masten had a moment to recover his bluster, and he started forward to reclaim his victim.  A palm strike to his chest knocked him back to the wall seventeen feet away.  This time, he was growling as he stood back up, pulling his shirt off.

“Gordon, what are you doing?” Granger asked

“Objecting—interrupting—preventing a murder? Take your pick.  All I know is he isn’t killing this girl and her brother.”

“They murdered my Pack!” Simon growled, unbuttoning his jeans.

“You butchered our parents!” Jetta screamed back at him. “Tied them to a tree and ripped them apart like dogs!”

“Masten, that true?” Granger asked.

“They were prey, Granger, ours for the taking.”

“We don’t hunt regular humans, Masten. It’s our law.”

“Laws!  We don’t live by laws, Granger!  We’re top of the food chain! Nothing hunts us!” he screamed, dropping his pants and falling to the floor.  Jep stood up, along with several Pack members, but most of the guests just turned their chairs to watch.  John and Deena had left their seats and were now standing behind Coreena, watching us.

Bo looked uncertain, but after seeing his Alpha begin to Change, he started to pull off his own clothes.

Granger ignored the Changing were, instead turning to Jetta and Mack, where they crouched behind the protective bulk of Awasos.  “Is what you say true?  His Pack killed your parents?”

Mack spoke up this time, his voice much deeper than his lean build would suggest. “My folks had a small getaway cabin in the mountains just behind our ranch.  They would go there to catch a weekend alone from time to time, as running a horse ranch is a full-time deal.  They never came home, so we went looking for them.  Found the cabin broken into and torn apart.  They were about a hundred yards away, tied together to a tree.  Huge canine tracks all around them.  The police were baffled, but my uncle knew what was responsible.  He knew about your people—knew that there was a local Pack.  My uncle hunted those hills his whole life, served in the army, and he’s the one who taught us to track and kill the predators that threatened our horses.  He helped us kill the first two werewolves, built that gun, and loaded the ammo for us.  He died of a heart attack after the second, but by then we knew how to do it.  We’re not afraid to die, Mr. Granger.  This… person killed our family, and family is everything!”

“Stand down, Masten!  There will be no killing here!” Ned said, turning back to the newly formed wolf.  But Masten was too enraged to listen.  He stood, shaky from the Change, then shook himself and charged.

Grim wanted to chop him into chunks, but I controlled him.  He was, after all, only one wolf and not even that impressive.

Masten leaped directly at me, jaws open wide.  Once he was in the air and committed, I slid left and back fisted the side of his head, striking just behind the eye.  The blow broke a bone or two and caused his stretched-out body to yaw slightly.  That brought his hind feet closer to my left hand, which latched onto his ankle.  Turning first with the direction of his leap, before continuing on in a circle, I redirected his momentum.

Have I mentioned that Posting is my favorite vampire technique?  Locking my body in place with a shaft of quantum power.  I also like Clinging, which is basically the same thing, but on a smaller scale.  But Posting is so damn useful in a fight.  It gives me the counterbalance to fully employ my strength, making it easy to do things like spin in place while holding a three-hundred-pound werewolf by the ankles.

Masten’s jaws missed the kids, but his heavy skull made nice contact with Bo’s body as the young were was unbuttoning his jeans.  The kid went flying, but I kept hold of Masten’s ankles and looped his body up and around another half circle before slamming him down hard on the flagstone floor. It was like the part in gymnastics when the girls twirl the ribbon sticks, except with fur.

Bo started to get up, but two of Ned’s men were suddenly on either side of him, holding him in place.  One of them picked up the suppressed rifle.

Masten lay on the stone floor, stunned enough that he involuntarily Shifted back to human form.  Jep stepped over to him and pulled him upright by the neck, hauling him out of the room, followed closely by his men and Bo.

“Thank you for not killing him,” Ned said to me.

I shrugged.  “I’ll let you folks deal with him. I just wasn’t going to let him kill any kids.”

“How did you know Mr. Gordon was capable of handling one of our kind?” Vrana asked Ned.

“Lots of ways: Jep’s evaluation, a warning from the Malleks, things like that.  But the best clue I had was last night when I first laid eyes on him.  Chris, Stacia, and Awasos were meeting us at our club.  I was curious as to who would come in first.  It would make sense to send the liaison in first, or, if you were worried, then you might send your giant wolf first, but it was Chris who came in.  In Nam, we always put our most dangerous guy on point.  He entered the bar like it was hostile terrain and he was ready for anything.  The other big clue was a few moments later when he threw Jep across the room like a basketball.  To tell you the truth, I was kinda curious about how it would go.”

Another security guy came into the room and spoke in Granger’s ear.  “Send them in, Larry,” Ned responded out loud before looking at me. “Are you psychic, Chris?  The FBI is here.”

“No. I just know a stubborn cop when I see one.”

The security guy led Agents Krupp and Mazar into the room, along with the entire Behavior Analysis team, as well as what looked like part of an FBI Hostage Rescue Team in full assault gear.  Someone had been expecting resistance.

Both agents looked around at the group, Krupp with a professional cop’s eye and Mazar like a fascinated scholar or scientist.  Krupp focused on Jetta and her brother instantly.  She gestured and two of her team moved to take custody of the kids.

‘You’ve found my suspects, Mr. Granger,” Krupp said, her tone genial but her eyes suspicious.

“Actually, Simon Masten found them and brought them here mere moments ago, Agent Krupp,” Ned replied calmly.  Gabe, the Pack attorney, sat up straight and interested, watching the Agents like a cat with a pair of mice.

“Where is Mr. Masten?  I’d like a word with him,” Krupp asked, looking around.

“He left rather abruptly.  Something about his head hurting, I think,” Ned answered.

Mazar stepped forward to look at the stone flooring right where Masten had impacted.  There was a bit of fur, some blood, and one of the flagstones looked loose.

“What happened here?” she asked.  Before anyone could answer, Awasos lunged over by Stacia’s chair and reclaimed his beef haunch in a loud display of canine eagerness.

“'Sos got a little rambunctious with his dinner,” Stacia said, reaching down to ruffle the big wolf’s head.

“What do you think we’d find if we searched the house, under probable cause, having found our suspects here?” Krupp asked.

“You’d a find a harassment complaint filed with the Mayor’s, Governor’s and Regional FBI offices,” Gabe, the attorney, answered.

Krupp ignored him, keeping her attention on Granger.  Mazar was watching me.  “You would,” Ned began to answer, raising his voice and turning his head toward the kitchen, “find our dinners, I would hope, about to be served.  Otherwise, not much of anything.”

“What do you think, Mr. Gordon?” Krupp asked.

“I’m hoping he’s right, because between you and me, the ostrich appetizer was kinda small.  I’m hoping that the main course is beefier, so to speak,” I answered.

“Is it usual to have a wolf at a dinner party?” Mazar asked the room, looking at Awasos.

“It seems like all men are wolves, especially at dinner parties,” Stacia said with resigned sigh.  “Open bar doesn’t help.”

“Miss Reynolds’ observation aside, my investment group is very devoted to the environment and conservation of our wild spaces, Agent Mazar,” Ned said.  “Awasos is a fine symbol for that side of our organization. Excluding him seemed wrong.”

“I see,” Krupp said, not buying it.  She casually glanced at Mazar, who gave the tiniest shake of her head.  “Well, Mr. Granger, my apologies for the interruption. I thank you for taking such good care of our suspects.  Hopefully there won’t be any need for complaints,” she finished, smirking at Gabe Fontz, obviously unimpressed with the threat.

“It would seem not, Agent Krupp.  Oh, seeing as how the children don’t appear to have legal representation and at least one of them is employed by Mr. Granger, I’ll be offering my services to them.  I’ll just follow you down to your field office,” Gabe said, wiping his mouth with a linen napkin and standing to go.

“Super,” Krupp said, her smile forced.  “Folks, enjoy your evening.”  They left in reverse order with the two lead agents first, followed by the rest of the team and finally by the M4-rifle-toting SWAT guys.

Gabe spoke softly to Granger for a moment before excusing himself and heading out after the federal agents.

The door to the kitchen opened, and a stream of waiters and waitresses flowed into the dining room carrying plate after plate of what appeared to be filet mignon.

“Ah, dinner is served,” Ned said with a tight smile.

Chapter 18

The questions resumed as we all started in on our dinners.  “Who is Tatiana Demidova?” Malcolm asked around a bite of beef.

Deena, who was watching us eat with a slightly disgusted look, perked right up.  “She’s the only born vampire!”

“Born?  What do you mean born?” Malcolm asked her but sliced his eyes sideways at me.

“Born like from a mother, what else would I mean?” the vampire girl answered.

“She is the natural born daughter to Galina Demidova, granddaughter of Elder Senka,” Katrina supplied, appearing suddenly to refill water glasses.

“Vampires can’t be born!  Can they?” he asked, eyes wide with confusion.

“They can’t, but she was!” Deena said, excited about the topic.  Stacia, on the other hand, looked mildly ill.  I just kept chewing my filet.  Next to Deena, John looked uncomfortable, but he remained quiet.

“So what does that mean?” Coreena asked.

“It means that she is unlike any other Darkkin, ever!  She is only about twenty five or so years old, but her speed and strength already rivals the oldest vampires!” Deena said.  “And he’s her Chosen!” she said, pointing at me.

“What’s a Chosen?” Malcolm asked.

Katrina leaned down between Stacia and me to slide another filet onto my plate.  “It was Gabe’s, and the chef didn’t want to see it get cold,” she said, turning back to Malcolm.

“Vampires Choose lifemates, kinda like wolves,” she said, nodding at 'Sos.  “Once they’ve Chosen, they never change their minds,” she said, picking up Stacia’s bread plate to remove it, despite the fact that the roll on it was untouched.

“So is she at least hot?” Malcolm asked, looking at Stacia as if questioning my choices.

“She is spectacularly beautiful, right, Chris?” Katrina asked.  It seemed someone was taking it on herself to deliver a message to Stacia.

“Yes, in all ways.  Listen, Malcolm, what will your uncle likely do about Jetta and her brother?” I asked, hoping for a topic shift.

“He’s pretty big on following Pack Law.  Since Masten basically confessed to killing their parents, I think he will most likely feel bad for them.  That’s why he let Gabe go with them.  I think Gabe feels the same way, and Uncle Ned listens to him.”

“It doesn’t really matter, does it?  The FBI has them,” Coreena asked, looking at me.

“I don’t think there’s much evidence, if any, against them.  The biggest piece, the gun, disappeared with Jep.  If the Pack is feeling sympathetic to them, then I would guess the gun will soon be on the bottom of a lake or garbage dump.”

“They might confess,” Deena pointed out.

Beside her, John shook his head slightly. “I doubt it.  If I understand it right, those kids traveled here from Kentucky and got jobs, a place to live, and then hunted down their enemies.  Not your average teenagers.  Plus, Gabe won’t let them say anything.  What other evidence is there?”

“Almost none.  No witnesses, no fingerprints, nothing really forensic.  Even if they found a hair from Jetta on one of the bodies, it’s explainable.  She’s been serving them food for weeks,” Stacia said.

Beside me, Awasos crunched his bone loudly.  Correction, remnants of bone.  He had crushed the big cow bone into splinters and fragments, with just a grapefruit-sized chunk left.  It was a big mess.  I squatted down and started to pick up the pieces.

“What are you doing?” Deena asked.

“Cleaning up for messy here,” I said. 'Sos paused in his chewing to whuffle my hair.  “Yeah, thanks for the help.”

“Shouldn’t you leave that for the staff?” Deena asked, honestly puzzled.

“My mother would have killed me dead if I made a big mess in my host’s house and didn’t clean it up,” I said, piling the bigger shards of bone into my napkin.  Katrina appeared at my side with a dust pan and mini broom and started sweeping.

“The Chosen of the Young Queen sweeping the floor?” Deena said, aghast.

“Better than cleaning bathrooms, mucking a cow barn, or emptying a grease trap in a restaurant, all of which I’ve done.”

“Some of the higher-ranked Darkkin don’t mind getting their hands dirty,” Katrina said, picking up the last of the debris and heading back to the kitchen.

“Who the hell is she anyway?” Deena asked.

“She’s one of Tanya’s oldest friends.  She’s mostly outside of the political structure, does stuff directly for Tanya,” I answered.

“She was turned a bit young, don’t you think?” Deena asked John.

“Yes, age twelve.  We’ve managed to age her a bit,” I answered before he could respond.

A waiter who I had seen serving Granger at dinner approached us before any more comments were made.

“Mr. Gordon, Ms. Reynolds?  The Alpha has asked if you would join him and his guests in the library for brandy.”

“Ah, okay,” I answered after a glance at Stacia.

The library was floor-to-ceiling built-in shelves of dark wood, maybe mahogany, with the requisite fireplace and high-backed chairs.  Ned, Jep, Kral, Janek, Sandy Tillman the accountant, and three other men were milling about the small dry bar, sipping either brandy or scotch, from the smell of it.  They all looked up when we came in, then looked behind us as the local Coven representative, John, followed.

“I apologize for the seating arrangements at dinner.  I think it would have suited us all to have you closer to the rest of us, but it was too difficult to change at the last moment,” Ned said.

I waved it off.  “It let me keep an eye on Awasos,” I said.  “Or maybe it let him keep an eye on me.”  They all laughed, but 'Sos’s body language looked smug.

“Did he really crap on the warlock’s car?” Jep asked in a deep rumble.

“Yes.  He’s been learning to get back at people who insult him.  Or maybe I should say he’s learned nonverbal comebacks.”

Again they laughed.  Kral shifted stance slightly.  “Mr. Gordon, I wanted to speak some more with you and Ms. Reynolds before the night was over.  Our next stop in our journey is New York.  I’ve known the Malleks for a long, long time, and they’ve also agreed to host my children as part of our little werewolf exchange program.”

“They’ll learn a lot.  The Malleks are pretty sharp people,” I said.

“Yes, and I understand that their oldest son has formed a successful new Pack in upstate New York.  That’s the kind of thing I want Janek and Darina to observe and learn from.”

Stacia laughed, causing Kral to look at her sharply.  She waved one slender hand at his frown.

“I’m laughing because Chris owns the land the new Pack lives on.  He’s their landlord and helped them get set up.”

Vrana’s frown turned to surprise as he looked at me for confirmation.

“I grew up by the Canadian border, where my family owns a good bit of farm and woodland.  It made sense to offer it to Brett and Kelly for their Pack.  They make good tenants.”

Stacia started to look around herself in a sudden flurry.  “Excuse me, gentlemen. I left my purse in the other room.  I’ll be right back.”

Kral turned back to me after we all watched her graceful exit.  “I understand you also have connections to the Coven?”  He glanced at John for confirmation.

“That, Mr. Vrana, is something of an understatement.  He is the Chosen of Elder Senka’s granddaughter,” the vampire said, still looking a bit uncomfortable.

“You know Senka herself?”

“Ah, yeah.  She takes a big interest in anything and everything in Tanya’s life.”

“My father, my grandfather, and my great-grandfather all dealt with Senka during their times as Alpha, as did the Alphas before them.  My Pack occupies the land of her ancestral home,” he said formally.  His demeanor changed when he spoke of her, like she was a very respected opponent or something.

I was trying to figure out what to say next.  Senka wasn’t on my good side at the moment, but I wasn’t going to air out Coven family laundry with strangers.  Stacia chose that moment to come rushing back into the room.

“Chris, the box is gone!  It was in my purse and now it’s gone!” she said, holding up the too-large handbag she had brought with her.  It took me a second to remember the carven wooden box that had once held the Book of Darkest Sorrow.

“What box?  Maybe it fell out?” Ned asked.

“It held the grimoire, the one that the two witches were so interested in,” I explained, holding up one hand as Ned and Jep’s expressions turned to alarm. “But the book is safe. We booby trapped the box, so whoever took it is in for a real big surprise.”

“Let’s see if they’re outside!” Ned said, leading the group out of the library, down the central hallway, and out the front door.  Several couples looked up, in the process of leaving, as we came rushing through the door.  Ahead, on the long, winding driveway, taillights glowed as a sports car rushed out to the main road.  The brakelights flashed as the driver paused the car out on the main road.  A second later, every window in the car exploded outward in a blinding flash of white light.  A split second after that, the reverberating blast reached our ears.

“We put a flashbang in the box,” I said.

Everyone’s attention was on the distant vehicle.  Jep ran to his truck, followed by two of his packmates.  The rest of us watched as he headed down the driveway to intercept the stunned thief.

Suddenly, I felt Grim surge forward, seizing control of my body and starting to move me sideways.  Something slapped my forehead and then the ground was rushing up to meet my face.  Blackness crashed into me as a second, sharper bang reached my ears, after that… nothing.

Chapter 19

Forest, dark, still, silent.  Pine needles were cushioning my feet as the world spun around me.  Off balance and dizzy, my mind struggling to get through cobwebs and confusion.

Where the hell was I?  What was I doing?  How did I get here?

The edge of the forest was twenty feet ahead.  Beyond that was open lawn for two hundred yards, then a house.  Big house of stone, long, straight driveway filled with cars, pools of electric light, people shouting and shocked.

The forest was quiet, not naturally quiet, but the no-insect noises, small-animal-frozen quiet that follows a disturbance.   Although I could barely keep my balance, my foggy senses still registered something or somethings approaching at great speed.

Rushing feet pounding the grass, two four-footed forms flying over the lawn.  I tried to clear my thoughts, to order the chaos that is my brain.  I should have been doing something, planning something before the rushers got here, but it was too late.  They arrived—two huge wolves, one dark, one white.  The dark one was giant, larger than any wolf I’ve ever heard of, making the white wolf look almost normal, if two hundred pounds is normal.  Heck, the white one could harness the brown one and ride it like a horse.

They slid to a stop and stared.  Then they moved forward and I stumbled back, hands up.  I remembered dogs… I’m good with dogs, but I don’t know shit about wolves.  They stopped—puzzled.  The white one fell on the ground and began to writhe and twist, growling and whimpering.  She—somehow I knew it’s a she—pops and snaps, her limbs changing and shifting.  White fur disappears, replaced with tanned skin and blonde hair.  All the while, the big, brown one watched me, whining softly.

The girl stands up, one hand on the broad back of the dark wolf for balance.  She’s watching me, worried and cautious.  She’s also very, very naked and beautiful. Platinum blonde hair and eyes that capture all the green of Ireland.

“What’s the matter?  Why are you backing away from us?” she asked, her voice clear and light.  A blur distracted me.  Another girl is just suddenly standing there, a couple of yards behind the dark wolf.  She’s only a teenage kid, maybe a pretty coed, but her brown eyes looked old and her skin was almost alabaster white.  She’s holding a dark cloth which she handed to the naked blonde.

“What’s the matter with him?  Why is he looking at us like that?” the new one asked.

“Well, Katrina, he just took a high powered rifle round to the head, so the fact that he’s standing at all is probably a good thing,” the blonde said as she shimmied into the black dress the other had given her.  The teen glared at the blonde.  I was unsure of almost everything going on, but I was pretty sure of one thing—these two didn’t like each other.

The big wolf was closer than he’d been a second ago.  I had been distracted by the girls talking, not to mention the shimmying thing with the dress.  He whined at me, his face expressing something plaintive.

I’m not usually afraid of canines.  Even the meanest junkyard dog won’t bite me.  A gift from God, perhaps.  I held out my hand, and he slunk forward till his giant head was under my palm.

“Chris?  How are you doing?” the blonde asked.  I had to think about that for a moment, but then it was clear… Chris was my name.  Christian, actually.  Christian Anthony Gordon.  It popped into my head and I felt suddenly a bit better.

“What do you mean he got shot?  I was in the kitchen when the yelling started,” the teen asked.

“That guy shot him in the head.  He dropped for a second, then he was gone so fast I couldn’t follow the motion.  I saw blood spray and his head is bloody, but I don’t see a wound, so it must have healed already,” the blonde said. “Two more shots, but they missed.  He was too fast.”

She had pointed behind me when she said that guy, so I turned and looked.

A man dressed in camouflage was pinned to a thick pine tree by an AR-10 style sniper rifle that had been shoved through his chest and deep into the tree.  Dead with glistening red blood that must have erupted from his mouth and all down his front, his head lolling forward.

I stumbled backward but was stopped by the mass of fur and muscle that was now pressed up against me, so I just sat down in the pine needles.

“Who are you people?  What are you?” I asked, or at least tried to, but the words didn’t come out that way.  It came out “Woo art woa? Wah art plep?”

I tried again, this time getting it more or less right.

“You don’t know us, Chris?  Any of us?” Blondie asked.  I shook my head.

“What about him?” she asked, pointing at the wolf by side.  He seemed sorta familiar but I couldn’t put a name to him.  I shrugged, confused and frustrated.  “You are a… wolf?  A werewolf?” I asked, feeling idiotic but having no other answer. They both just looked perplexed and worried.

Other people were arriving, men mostly, including a giant who had to be close to seven feet tall.

The teen girl turned and motioned them to stop approaching, while the blonde kept looking at me as she approached slowly, her face open and concerned.

“My name is Stacia.  Do you remember me?” she asked, glancing up at my forehead.

I shook my head.  I’m sure I would have remembered her.  After all, how many gorgeous women were in my life? Try none!

“How about Katrina?  Do you remember her?” she asked.

I looked the teen girl over.  She was pretty with brown hair and eyes and extremely pale skin.  She was different, not normal. I just knew it, but wasn’t sure how.  I glanced back at the dead guy pinned to the tree.  He was the same pale white as her.  She must have followed my gaze because she was suddenly next to me, her movement pushing air across my face, and then she was just as abruptly standing in front of the dead guy, studying him.

“He’s Darkkin!  Shit!” she said vehemently.

“Yeah, well this isn’t unexpected, is it?” the blonde, Stacia, asked, now holding my head with both hands and tilting it up to look at my brow.  I pulled back a bit, because while I don’t have anything against beautiful girls holding my head in particular, it had never happened before and I couldn’t think of a good reason for it now.  Although I really couldn’t think well at all.  My cobwebs were still thick and gooey.

“What the hell happened?” a male voice asked in a command tone.  An intense man strode into our edge of the forest, the giant guy right behind him.

“Chris took a sniper round to the head.  Then I think he killed the sniper pretty much on instinct, but he seems to have memory issues,” Blondie, er, Stacia said.

A compact, muscular Asian girl came running up with an EMT bag slung over her shoulder.  Taking in the scene in a glance, she beelined straight for me.

“Head wound?” she asked.

“Yeah, you could say.  He took a bullet in the side of his head, but it’s already healed,” Stacia said.

The EMT girl didn’t respond, just pursed her lips as she manipulated my head much as the other had.

“A lot of blood, but I think you’re right.  Damn, that’s really fast healing!” she said.

“You keep saying I got shot, but how come I’m still alive?” I asked, noticing another intense-looking man arriving along with a younger version of himself and two females, one younger, one older.  A family.

“Chris, what’s the last thing you remember?” the EMT asked.

“I do… I don’t really know,” I said, trying and failing to get my thoughts in order.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

“Chris… Christian Anthony Gordon,” I answered, absurdly proud of knowing that fact.

“Do you know where you are?”  I just shook my head at that one.

“Where do you live?” she persisted.

It took a moment for the answer to pop up.

“Potsdam.  Potsdam, New York.”

“Oh no!” the blonde girl, Stacia, said, eyes wide.

The other girl, the pale teen, looked really shocked.

“Chris, you live in New York City.  Remember?” she demanded.

I shook my head, realizing I was missing stuff, important stuff, but unable to get ahold of it.

“I… I don’t think so.  I’m going to the NY Police Academy—then I’ll live in the city.  I remember commencement…my grandfather was there.  But you weren’t, either of you.”

They both looked pale now, but the Asian girl just looked annoyed.

“For the love of God, can you two cut him a break?  He just took major trauma to the head.” She shook her head. “ – as if a bullet were only trauma!  He’s literally had part of his brain scrambled, and he’s not only coherent but he was able to kill his own sniper!  Of course he has memory issues—it’s been all of five minutes!”   She didn’t raise her voice, but her tone was sharp as a razor and it had the same effect on the two girls as if she had slapped them.

“By all rights, you should be notifying his next of kin that he’s dead, but look at him!  Healed, at least on the outside, and functional.  Unbelievable!”

“I’ve seen our kind survive gunshots to the head as well as her kind,” the family guy said, with a nod at the pale girl, “ but they all had major memory loss and brain damage. It took years to recover both physically and mentally.  I have to agree with your medic here—he’s doing uncannily well.”

He had an exotic accent, European or something.

“Next of kin?  Oh shit!  Shit! Shit! Shit!  I’ve got to call Tanya,” the teen girl said suddenly, looking truly scared.  Then she firmed up as she came to some conclusion.  Her head came up and she turned and looked around at the others, who were standing in a semi-circle.  “Where’s John?” she asked, but must have spotted him because she blurred straight across the arc to a bookish, thin pale guy and yanked him over to the body on the tree. It was like he was being pulled by a tractor. “Do you know him?” she asked.

The John guy recovered himself from the near whiplash her pull had generated and paused to look from me to the dead sniper.  He, too, tilted the head back to get a look at the face and when he did, I saw two pointy teeth poking out of the dead guy’s lips.  Pointy, like, you know, a vampire.

“I don’t know him.  He’s not a local. Must have come from out of state,” John said with a grimace.

“I need details!  Facts!  Listen, John, very carefully.  I’m about to call Tatiana Demidova and tell her that a Darkkin sniper just shot her Chosen… in your region.  How do you think she will react to that?  Hmm?” she said intensely. “What do you think that means for the Coven?”

The blonde, whose name I had been told a moment or two ago, turned and listened as pale girl talked.  Stacia!  Her name was Stacia and pale girl was Katrina!  I felt better for remembering, but I was scared… I had just heard both names earlier and I had trouble remembering them twenty seconds later.  An odd memory surfaced.  Me with Gramps, visiting a friend of his who had Alzheimer’s.  I shuddered.

“Are you cold?” the medic asked.  I shook my head.  “Just trying to get my brain to work,” I said, just barely above a whisper. I might as well have yelled it, as everyone snapped around to look at me.

“Don’t force it.  Just relax. You’ve been wounded, and it’ll take time to fully heal,” she said in soothing tones.  Katrina, who was just behind the medic, tilted her head to one side.  “Did you recognize that name Chris?  Tatiana?  Does it ring any bells?”

Stacia flashed a dark, angry look at Katrina but said nothing.  I shook my head. “Who is she, and what is a Chosen?” I asked.

Katrina just pursed her lips, smiled, and shook her head.  “Let’s not worry about it right now.  ‘Kay?”  Then she turned to the group.  “I still need details.”

“The rifle is a Remington R-25, probably in .308,” I said, trying to add what I could.

“You remember guns?” Katrina asked.

I thought about that. The information had just been there, popping up without effort, while stuff like where I was, who these people were, and what had happened were all fog and darkness. I nodded.

“What’s this one?” the giant asked, holding up a pistol that looked tiny in his humongous hand.

“Glock 21,” I said instantly, noting the size of the bore could be nothing less than .45.

“So he remembers who he is, his hometown, detail about weapons, but nothing from his recent past?” Stacia asked, an odd light in her eyes.  Katrina was eyeing her with murder on her face, now clutching a smart phone, like she was getting ready to make a call.

“Let’s get him in the house and get this area cleaned up.  Jep, collect as much evidence and information as you can and get rid of the body.  Malcolm, get a push broom and shovel and clean up the broken glass from the driveway where the flash bang went off,” the intense man next to Jep ordered.  A young man from the onlookers peeled off and headed to the big, four-car garage near the house.  Jep waved one tree-limb-thick arm and an SUV pulled up across the grass.

“Don’t even think of it, bitch!” Katrina suddenly said to Stacia, who whirled in anger to face her. “I know what you’re thinking!  Don’t even try to worm your way in with lies and omissions!”

“Fuck off, leech!” Stacia said, furious.  Everyone in the area turned to look at the suddenly tense confrontation.  There was a certain breathlessness to the group as they watched the two females square off, the kind of hopeful expectation that preceeds a schoolyard showdown and fills a MMA fight to max capacity.

“Do not presume to have the slightest inkling of what I think or how I live!” the green-eyed blonde girl hissed.

“Oh, I’ve known a thousand opportunists just like you over the last hundred years!  I know exactly how your kind thinks!” Katrina replied.

“Then you should stop living in the gutter and learn about other people instead of, you know, crack whores and junkies!”

Katrina drew breath to reply, but her phone buzzed in her hand and her face blanched when she looked at the display.  “Hey, T.  I was just gonna call you,” she said, spinning away and stalking off into the dark as she answered it.

The EMT, who introduced herself as Coreena, steered me toward the SUV, and Stacia came around to grab the vehicle’s door.  I slid into the leather interior and was soon headed to the house, sandwiched between the two females, while outside Stacia’s side, the big wolf ran alongside.  Behind us, I could see the teen girl talking rapidly on her phone.  Ahead the house rushed closer, but my brain was no clearer, my thoughts no more ordered.  What the Hell was going on?

Chapter 20

The house was partially full of well-dressed men and women who all had the same general smell as the two females who led me into its interior—canine.  We crossed the front bluestone steps, and I saw glistening blood on the side of the main doorframe about head height… my head height, but was hustled past it and on into a side library room.  One of the dark-suited men came forward at a command from the leader, whose name was Ned.  “Chris, this is Dr. Peterson.  He’s one of mine and well versed in dealing with medical issues for supes.”

“Hello, Dr. Peterson,” I said, shaking his hand.  “What’s a supe?” I asked Ned.  He exchanged uncertain glances with the doctor, Stacia, and Coreena.

“A supe is a supernatural, Chris—a werewolf like me or a vampire like Katrina,” Stacia said, sitting next to me and holding my hand.

“Oh,” I said, thinking about that. “I feel like I should be having more trouble with this whole werewolf-vampire thing.” I was thinking about the girl next to me, who had been a wolf recently, and Katrina, who moved much faster than any human could.

“That may be because you’ve been dealing with it for a couple of years now,” she replied.

“Years? Years? What’s today's date?  And why would a doctor who knows about Dracula and the wolfman need to look at me?” I asked.

She patted my hand and leaned in just a bit. “Because, you, Chris, are supernatural, too.  Maybe more so than any of us.”  Then she picked a newpaper off the coffee table in front of me and pointed to the date.  It couldn’t be right… it had to be a gag paper, you know, the kind you can get from a joke shop or website for pranks.  The headline was about the federal budget, and the man in the accompanying photo had been running for president.  According to the caption, he was the president.

I tried to wrap my head around all the stuff I was reading, but my eyes kept going blurry. Dr. Peterson leaned over me, checking my head while having a medical-sounding conversation with Coreena.  He flashed a little light in each eye and asked me questions about who, what, where I was.

“Who’s your closest family?”

“My grandfather.”

“Where’d you go to college?”

“SUNY Albany,” I answered.

“Who is that?” he asked pointing to Stacia.

“A girl named Stacia.”

“How about him?” he said pointing down.

“A big, friendly wolf?” I answered.  The BFW woofed at me and bumped my leg with his big head.  He made it obvious that I was supposed to know him. And somehow, I knew he also wanted me to call him by name.

“What is his name?” I asked.

“Awasos,” Stacia replied.

“But that means bear in Abenaki, not wolf?  What idiot named a wolf Bear?”

“You did, Chris.  You rescued him at birth, you named him, and you raised him,” Stacia said with a sad smile.

“But why would I name him Bear?”

She looked at Awasos.  “Show him.”

The big canine backed away a few steps and then just sorta shimmered.  Shimmered and expanded—a lot!  A second later, the biggest bear I’d ever seen was standing on all four legs, looking me at me with Awasos’s eyes.  Slowly, he moved forward and bumped my shoulder with a keg-sized head.  My hand reached itself to his neck and scratched without my direction.  He sighed and sat down, tilting his head to give me a better shot at what was obviously an itchy spot.

“Wow!” was all I could say.

“Chris, I think you are doing well for having been shot in the head—really well.  I can’t even really tell exactly where the bullet hit.  Understandably, you have memory loss and other … damage.  Much of that will heal, but whether you get your memories back or not is uncertain,” the doctor said.

“So what do we do?” Stacia asked.

“What I do is take him home!  What you do is whatever dogs do,” a voice said from the door.  The girl… the vampire girl, if I wanted to be accurate, Katrina, took two quick steps forward and handed her phone to me. I didn’t recognize the model. “Someone wants to say hi.”

I took it slowly as the rest of the room grew tense.  The vampire had just insulted not one but ten or more people that I thought were probably werewolves. She didn’t appear to care.

“Hello?” I said into the phone.  The most amazing voice answered.  It was lightly accented and smoky smooth.  “Zayka, are you all right?”

The tones hit me like a brick.  I knew this voice, but no face or name came with it.  “I know you!” I said, which had the effect of shifting all the attention in the room from the two girls to me.  “I can’t remember your name, but I know you!”

“Yes, you know me.  My name is Tanya, Christian.  Does that help?”

I shook my head, then realized she couldn’t see it.  “I’m sorry.  I should be able to do better, but I just can’t get my mind to work!” I said, clenching a fist and slamming the arm of the chair I was in.  It shattered into a hundred pieces.  “Oh shit!”

“What happened?” the voice asked, alarmed.  Stacia and Katrina rushed to help me with the broken pieces but bumped into each other, whirling to face off.  Coreena shoved between both of them, disgusted, and started picking pieces of wood off me.

“I broke the chair. I didn’t even hit it that hard?” I said, both to the voice on the phone and to the rest of the room.

“You are very, very strong, Zayka.  You must be careful, dear one.  Just keep calm and move slowly.  You must come home now,” she said, her voice like a soothing salve. “Come home to me, Christian.”

“Home?  Where?”

“New York, Zayka,” she said.  I didn’t know what Zayka meant, but it had an affectionate ring to it, an intimate implication, and I found I wanted that link with the voice.  “May I speak to the doctor, Chris?  The one I heard before?”

He reached for the phone, apparently hearing my conversation as well as I could.  “Hello, this is Dr. Peterson,” he said, confident yet puzzled.

“Dr. Peterson, I am Tatiana Demidova.  Chris is my Chosen.  Can you tell me anything about his condition?”

The doctor’s face paled a little at her name, so apparently he’d heard of her.  “As near as we can tell, a high-power rifle round grazed his neocortex.  The wound has healed completely, so it’s difficult to be sure.  He is responding normally but has lost approximately two years or so worth of memories.  His motor functions and reflexes appear good, but I can’t tell what would be normal for him, as he is neither Were nor Darkkin.  I don’t know if he’ll get his memories back, but then again, I haven’t been able to complete a full exam without being interrupted,” he said the last as an obvious admonishment.  Apparently my hearing is pretty good, too, because I had no problem hearing her while they spoke.

“My apologies, Doctor.  He is more important to me than life itself.  Please do whatever it takes; the Coven’s resources are at your beck and call.  Also, if I may provide some background, as I have been researching my Chosen’s lineage.  Christian’s maternal grandfather was exposed to both V-squared and LV viruses in a Nazi war camp.  Neither virus was able to gain a foothold, but they appear to have changed his DNA and consequently Chris’s.  When Chris was exposed to my blood, the V-squared took hold in new and different ways.  Our physician, Raj Singh, is available for consultation as well.”

“Very well, Ms. Demidova. Here is your… associate,” he said, handing the phone to Katrina, who turned and walked out, ignoring the hostile stares of the surrounding people.  Dr. Peterson began to examine me again.

“Her voice was familiar to you?” he asked, holding my right arm and manipulating the digits of my hand.

“Yeah, but I can’t picture her face.  Yet I could feel something as she spoke.”

“You may be feeling the mate bond.  Vampires form a very strong bond with their mates… their Chosen.  Yours happens to be with arguably the most important vampire on this continent, if I’m not mistaken,” he said.

“I couldn’t tell you, Doc, ‘cause I don’t know what any of this means, werewolves and vampires.  Wolves that change into gargantuan bears.  I know demons, that’s about it. Not this other stuff. It makes my head hurt.”

“You are trying too hard.  You need rest… and food. Healing takes energy,” he said, turning to the leader, Ned, who answered him before he could ask.

“We will put him in a guest room, and my wife is getting him some leftovers from dinner.”

A woman came in almost as he spoke, holding a tray that sent odors directly to my nose and made my stomach growl and my saliva glands kick in to overdrive.  I smelled beef, rare and tender, as well as some type of chowder and potatoes and some type of vegetables, green beans maybe.

She smiled at me as she set it on my lap.  I nodded my thanks, but that was it, as my focus on the three filets became all consuming.  My hand shook as I struggled to cut off a piece and get it into my mouth as fast as possible.  The room was quiet for a moment as they all watched me eat, but then side conversations sprang up around the room. The intense family man and Ned, the leader, began to talk, and I focused my ears on them.  They were discussing Stacia, who was across the room talking with the EMT, Coreena.  The men spoke very softly. I was only able to hear them because I was almost in the center of the room.

“No, Kral, she’s not a purebred.  She was bitten two years ago,” Ned said.

“You are certain?  Absolutely certain?” Kral asked.  “Because I saw her Change, and it was one of the fastest I’ve ever seen.  Then after running a few hundred meters, she Changed again!  Like it was nothing!”

“Yeah, well, I saw her do a controlled paw Change too. I couldn’t do it as well as she could,” Ned replied.

“My Darina said she was fooled by her scent into thinking she was a born were.  That has never happened.  Ned, do you realize how this could help our people?  I don’t know if it’s the purity of her LV strain or something else, but a bitten were that can fool my daughter’s nose and change faster than a purebred is nothing short of fantastic!”

There were a few other conversations about the beautiful blonde girl who appeared to be my friend, but those discussions had nothing to do with her werewolf attributes and everything to do with her human, female-type attributes. Those at least made sense.  The leaders’ discussion didn’t.

I drummed my fingers of my left hand, trying to get my brain to work, but it wasn’t to be.  I couldn’t stay focused. My attention shifted too rapidly.  The taste of the beef was off, the red of that girl’s dress was wrong, the smells of food, cigars, blood (which was crusting in my hair), the growl of a deep voice, the slightly musty smell of vampires, the musky odor of werewolves, the fur of a giant bear under my fingers, it was all overwhelming.  I focused on the last one and realized I was drumming my fingers on Awasos’s head.  He didn’t seem to mind, but he was eyeing the last morsel of filet mignon on my plate.  I popped it into his mouth without a second thought.  Resting my arm on him and sharing food seemed automatic… natural.  I went with it, as nothing else about me or around me made any sense at all.

The hostess came back, smiling as she took the tray of empty plates.  “Malcolm, show Mr. Gordon to the Pine room, please,” she said to a young man who I had seen carrying out this or that order or command all evening.  “You go rest, Chris.  The doctor said you need some quiet and darkness.”

I won’t lie.  It sounded blissful.  The constant buzzing in my brain, the cobwebs, and the constant distraction of a thousand razor-sharp sensory inputs was making my head spin.  I followed the young man upstairs, took a fast shower to wash off my own blood, and dressed in the sweats I found waiting for me on the bed.  Then I fell back into the big puffy mattress, surrounded by pine paneled walls and the scent of balsam fir needles, and let the darkness take me.

Chapter 21

I awoke slowly, from strange, disjointed dreams that I immediately forgot.  My lids were crusted with eye-boogers, and it took a while to get them fully open.  Big plush bed, pine paneled room.  For a full minute, I had no idea where I was. The window showed it was still dark outside. Then I remembered the big stone house, the party of people who could change into wolves, and a phone conversation with a voice straight from Heaven.  The floor beside the bed rustled and a wall of fur rose up.  I should have at least jumped at the sight of the big grizzly, but he felt like he was supposed to be there.

An open suitcase that hadn't been there last night was sitting on the floor.  It didn’t look familiar, but a pair of jeans on the top of the clothes stacked inside it did.  The case was a nylon duffle, vaguely military looking, the kind of bag that cops refer to as a go-bag.  As in grab and go.  I absently patted the big bear, Awasos, and made my way around his bulk to the suitcase.  The jeans, two tee shirts, and a pair of shoes were definitely mine.  Oh, and two pairs of the socks, along with a pair of gray cargo pants.  The rest, I didn’t recognize.  Clothing that not only wasn’t familiar but looked too fashionable to be mine.

I picked up a shoe to inspect its details and a knife fell out.  It was a beat-up Emerson CQC 7 folder with a tanto-style blade, and I knew it like I knew… well, like I knew my name (but apparently not much else).  Gramps had given it to me this past Christmas… no, it would be two Christmases ago, if the paper I saw was real.  It was also the best thing I had seen since I found myself standing in the forest.

There was a soft knock on the door and at my, “Come in!” it opened to reveal the pretty blonde girl, Stacia, with a big tray of food.

“Hey, good morning.  How do you feel?” she asked.

I hurried to take the tray from her, as it was difficult to maneuver around the furry hulk on the floor who was suddenly just as interested in the food as I was.  She laughed at his earnest focus and reached onto the tray to pull the cover of a big platter off, revealing a slab of beef the size of a city phone book.  She set it on the floor while I set the suddenly lighter tray on the bed next to me.

“Somehow, I just knew the two of you would be starving,” she laughed.  I was… starving that is.  I hadn’t realized it till the smells hit me, but I was literally starving.

“Why am I so hungry?” I wondered out loud while uncovering eggs, toast, sausage, bacon, coffee, hash browns, and a really big bowl of oatmeal.

“You have a turbo-injected metabolism.”

“Why?  Why am I like this? What the hell has gone on for the last however many years?”

“You eat, I’ll explain,” she said, leaning across my legs to snag a piece of bacon. She curled her legs underneath her by my other side..  She was wearing faded jeans and a white tee shirt that set off her tan and green eyes.  Both the jeans and the shirt were form fitted, and I suddenly decided I had better focus my attention on the food and not her figure.  I think she noticed.

She finished chewing and leaned over me again for more bacon.  When she turned to look at me her lips were mere inches from my mouth.  They glistened red and ripe.  I realized I was staring and looked up at her emerald eyes.  A different kind of hunger lingered there and she suddenly leaned into me and kissed me.

It was an incredible kiss, at least it seemed that way.  I had nothing to compare it to.  She pulled back abruptly, looking slightly flustered, maybe a little embarassed and very sexy.  I could taste her lip gloss—cherry.

She didn’t say anything for a moment, but she finally shook her head a little, as if to answer an internal question that I couldn’t hear.  “That was wrong of me Chris.  I shouldn’t have done that.  I will not use your memory to my advantage.”

“Are we…  have we…?” I didn’t know how to finish.

“No, not yet.  But I have wanted to kiss you for the longest time.   You deserve to know what has happened over the last two years, so sit back, eat and I’ll explain.

Ignoring my discomfort, she launched into a detailed account of my life over the past two years while I worked my way through the mound of food, occasionally throwing a tidbit of sausage or bacon to the big beast on the floor who was decimating ten pounds of cow.

“So let me see if I got this right:  I interrupted a Hellbourne who was killing a vampire princess.  She sucked me near dry but gave me a dollop of her own blood to heal me.  It did that, but a whole lot more on account of my grandfather on my mom’s side having spent time in an experimental Nazi war camp.  Then she decided I was her boyfriend while the police found out I was an exorcist and assigned me to a secret unit after I helped a werewolf mom and her kid.  We raided a drug lab and found a Hellbourne with a… Damnedthing?  I freed it, and it was my new BFF.  An Elder vampire kidnapped me and was all set to kill me, and the super spirit bear intervened.  Then I caught my vampire girlfriend fooling around on me, only she wasn’t. It was actually mind control.  I stormed off and ended up on some strange Homeland Security mission to Vermont where I stopped a rogue werewolf, only it managed to bite you before I killed it with my bare hands?  Then I beat up three werewolves at the same time that were trying to haul you away to their gang or cult or something.  The government decided to grab me for experiments, but the bear spirit stopped them, then the cultish weres got up in the face of my vampire princess and I went all badass on them.  After that, I hunted the furry bastards down, working with the government, killing hundreds in some massive battle in Mexico, then Tanya and I worked as troubleshooters for the secret vampire organization that secretly runs the world, only we got caught up in politics and I had to flee down here with you ‘cause they’re a big bunch of haters.  While we were here, we helped some children of the corn and closed a door to Hell, plus helped solve a serial crime.   Oh, and I have a split personality that is like a cross between Hannibal Lector and Wolverine with a little bit of Chuck Norris mixed in.  And you want to date me.”

“Yeah, sorta,” she agreed.  “What do you think?”

“I think it sounds like a peyote-fueled comic book plot dreamed up by some author wannabe who couldn’t write bad B-grade movies for the Syfy channel!”

“Maybe a little,” she agreed.

“But it’s all true,” another voice said from the open doorway.  Katrina was standing there, arms crossed, staring at Stacia, a frown on her face.

“There’s no way that’s all true,” I objected.  Katrina pulled back from whatever mental evaluation she was giving Stacia and looked at me with an ever-so-slightly pitying smile.  Instead of answering, she just wove around the furry hulk to my duffle bag.  She glanced at both ends, then spun the bag to show me an emblem that was sewn on the far end.   It showed a black robe-wearing reaper figure with a skeletal hand and a purple scythe.  There were no letters, numbers, or words around it, but it definitely had a military unit look to it.

“This is the group emblem from your Loki hunting days.  Only a couple dozen of these patches were ever made,” she said, as if some stupid patch was the trial-winning evidence of the century. If the patch fits, then you must acquit.   It did shut me up as I studied it, though.

“We need to get going while it’s still dark,” Katrina said.  “So get dressed. We’re heading out.”

“Where?” I asked.

“We,” she said, pointing to Stacia and then herself, “—came to an understanding last night.  We retrieved all your stuff and today we’re taking that bad ass Volvo you drove down here back to the City.  It’s either that or Tanya will fly down here and hunt your ass down.  So go get dressed.”

That one was bossy, and I didn’t like her making decisions for me.  But ultimately, I needed to get back to New York State and I needed answers, so their plan was as good as any.  Whether I would stay in the City or head back to my family farm was another story.

I changed clothes quickly, putting on the familiar cargo pants and a black Glock tee shirt that I’d gotten from a factory rep years ago.  As I pulled the tee over my head, I became aware of an odd necklace that I had been wearing without noticing.  It was silver, shaped like a tear, and with an inky black gem bigger than a fifty-cent piece set in the center. I had no idea what it was or how I got it.

My borrowed sweats were folded and placed back on the bed that the two girls had made while I was changing.  A little decorative pillow was lying on the floor, one of those useless ones that just sorta dress up a made bed.  Stacia bent over to pick it up, which provided me with an amazing view.

She’d be better in the bed rather than making it, ran through my mind, the taste of her kiss still on my lips.

It was one of those instant sex thoughts that plague every guy under the sun.  We get them all the time, and they don’t really mean anything. In fact, I think girls get them, too.  But they are the sort of guess that is based on other experiences, so it made sense that the next thought was, How the hell can I know that unless I have had sex? Holy Shit!  Am I not a virgin? Have I had sex?  Which I can’t remember!  Arghhhhh!

That, more than anything else, showed me just how much I’d lost to a split second and a .30 caliber piece of metal. I stared up at the ceiling and asked Him why for only the ten thousandth or so time in my life.  Then I grabbed my bag in one hand and the empty tray in the other and strode out of the room.

“What the hell was that?” Stacia asked, still back in the room with the vampire.

“It looked like he stared at your ass and then maybe cursed God.  Odd.  I would think it would be another woman that might do that, not a guy?” Katrina wondered.

“That has happened,” Stacia admitted begrudgingly.

“Are you kidding?  If I was put together like you, I'd crow about it night and day!” Katrina said.

“Maybe when I was thirteen.  But then I realized I had simply won a genetic lottery but lost the luck battle in a whole lot of other ways.  And once everyone starts treating you as just an object, it’s hard to get them to stop.  Besides, what are you talking about?  You’re pretty as hell.  You could maybe dress a little different, but that’s not big deal.”

“Really?  You think?”

“Hell yeah!  Just gotta move your wardrobe from high school to adult.”

“I’m not sure how to do that.”

“Oh, it’s not hard.  I’ll show you,” the blonde werewolf offered the brunette vampire.

“Really?”

“Really.”

Chapter 22

We said our goodbyes to Ned and his wife, Rose, and their two daughters, who acted like I was their new favorite uncle or something.  The big guy, Jep, got a little choked up as he almost crushed me in a man hug.  I couldn’t remember saving his kid, but he definitely did.

We loaded our small amount of luggage into the Volvo, then the big wolf, and finally a five-gallon joint compound bucket that sloshed with water.  “What’s that?” I asked.

“Stacia and I retrieved an important book that you found. It was in a temporary hiding spot and we grabbed it last night while you were sleeping and re-growing your brain and what have you,” Katrina said.

“You keep the book in water?  And re-growing a brain isn’t easy you know, but at least it shows I had one to begin with,” I said.

“Salt water – it hides this books magical scent or whatever.  And about your brain?  Let’s hope the new one is actually functional, okay?”

“Let’s go you two.  The sun will be up and you’ll be in a coma soon Katrina, so you might not want to antagonize him.  There are at least three permanent markers in the glove compartment.  Hate to have you wake up with a mustache,” Stacia said from the driver’s door.

“I better not wake up with any additions or deletions, you hear me half-wit?” Katrina said.

“We’ll see,” I said, but my heart wasn’t in it. I was studying the Volvo and wondering what had happened to my 4x4 SUV.  Stacia laughed at the look on my face.

“It’s not yours.  It belongs to the Pack.”

We piled into the car and took off, just missing the early morning Asheville business traffic.

Awasos took up most of the cargo area and Katrina hid herself in a lightweight mummy sleeping bag on the back seat, apparently not bothered by the heat and humidity of North Carolina but needing protection from the sun.  She closed down the hood of the bag after delivering dire threats of revenge on any and all transgressions I might make, but her words cut off in mid-sentence as the sun peeked over the mountains.  I heard her breathing all but stop, and there was blessed peace in the car.

Stacia drove well but seemed a little tense on some of the busier sections of road.  I offered to drive, but she shook her head.  “You’re a very good driver, Chris, but I prefer to wait until your brain injuries are a bit more fully healed.  You might not notice, but you freeze up here and there like an odd memory or thought has occurred to you.  I don’t want that to happen at seventy-five miles an hour.”

That stung a little.  It would be different if I had a physical injury to my leg or arm that prevented me from doing something.  I wouldn’t like it, but it would make sense.  But when your very brain is considered suspect, well, that creates a whole different level of self-esteem issues.

She must have sensed my mood, maybe she smelled it or something, because she said, “Hey, it’s just temporary.  You’ll be good in no time.”

“Except for the fact that I left part of my brain and a big chunk of my life spattered on the Grangers’ doorframe.”

“Doctor Peterson thinks you may recover your memories over time.  He said something about cellular memories.”

“Stacia, if the part of a computer that holds information is blasted out of existence, it’s not coming back.”

“But if that information had left copies of itself in other places around the computer, it can be retrieved.  He said that there is evidence that supernaturals record a lot of information at the cellular level.  There’s doubt that humans do it, but supes are different.  The thing is, it just takes time for the information to get found and reorganized again.”

Katrina had an iPad with cellular connectivity tucked in the back seat with her.  I grabbed it and started to research cellular memories and the theories behind them.  That kept me busy for a few hours till Stacia pulled off the highway and parked outside a restaurant in Virginia.  It was a little place, JC’s Bar and Grill, with the emphasis more on the bar and less on the grill, but it was open for lunch and I was starving despite the half box of granola bars that had vanished down my throat.  The other half box had disappeared into my furry friend in the back.  I let him out to stretch his legs and water the scruffy vegetation on the edge of the parking lot.  I left the tail gate slightly ajar for him, and Stacia and I headed into the food joint.  Plank wood floors and walls, a big beat up bar, and a ceiling full of business cards, cut off neckties, and not a few pairs of women’s underwear.  The bar area held a handful of tables, but the designated eating area was in a separate section.  An older couple was seated further down, and beyond them were two booths of guys who looked to be on lunch break from a construction job.  Dirty jeans, heavy workboots, and stained ball caps made up most of their uniform.  They all paused in mid-banter to check us out, virtually all of them dismissing me and focusing on Stacia.  We grabbed a table near the doorway, as far from them as possible.  A thirty-something waitress brought us menus, not saying too much after taking in my eyes and Stacia’s movie-star looks.

She brought us drinks and then took our rather large order.  I got two cheeseburgers (the bacon special and the mushroom burger), both with fries.  Stacia ordered a pulled pork sandwich and sweet potato fries and asked for three orders of chicken strips to go for Awasos.  The waitress left to place our order, and I headed to the men’s room.

Four minutes later, I came back to find my seat and the other two all occupied by the construction guys, who were trying their luck with Stacia.  The big guy occupying my chair didn’t bother to look up when I hovered next to him, but his two companions both eyed me with expectant grins.

“Buddy, you’re in my chair.”

He glanced at me, then turned back to Stacia.  Something flared inside me and I got immediately angry.  Grabbing the back of his chair, I pulled it out smoothly.  That caught at least one guy’s attention, as the man in the chair weighed well over two hundred pounds, but the guy himself just surged to his feet as if he was actually hoping I would start trouble.  He put his hand on me and shoved, but I failed to move.

“Chris!” Stacia’s voice held a warning mixed in with exasperation.  I turned to look at her, but part of me felt the guy start another move.  When I turned my head back, the something in my chest made me freeze solid, letting his fist crash into my cheekbone.  He must have been an angry individual, frustrated with life and his lot in it.  Every one of his actions had been geared to starting trouble and now he was throwing a punch that wound up from the floor and aimed for the roof.  Every ounce of weight, every erg of energy he had was in this punch.  I heard bones snap and crunch under the force of it.  They were all in his hand.  My head, held in place by the thing inside me, didn’t even quiver, which should have been impossible.  I felt the touch of his knuckles but no pain, none at all.

He, however, felt something.  Apparently, it wasn’t good because he dropped to his knees like he’d been kicked from behind, clutching his hand silently while both his eyes widened.  He looked shocked for a moment, a brief span of frozen time, till the pain fully hit him.  His head went back and he screamed at the ceiling, his voice hitting octaves in ranges that it hadn’t likely seen since puberty.

His buddies at the table with him just stumbled back for a moment, till their own anger surfaced.  One moved to help the broke-fisted guy while the other started toward me with murderous intent.  The other guys back at the other two tables—who had been highly entertained till this point—started to get up.

A deep growl stopped them all like a herd of deer frozen in headlights.

Everybody in the restaurant: the construction guys, the old couple, the alarmed waitress, and the guy in the cook’s apron with the Louisville slugger coming from the kitchen door, all looked to the bar archway.  The wolf that filled it stood as tall as any of the tables and had to be over six feet long standing on all fours.  His feet were braced, his shaking jaws gaped open, and he didn’t look very happy, not happy at all.  He looked three seconds from a blood bath.

Stacia sighed and turned to the waitress.  “We’ll take that order to go.”

The cook with the baseball bat turned and glanced at her, not really looking away from the wolf.  “You’ll leave right now or I’ll call the sheriff.”

She shook her platinum locks and grimaced.  “We came in for lunch.  Your customers attacked my partner and harassed me.  Now you’re threatening us with deadly force.  Our canine is trained to defend us from all threats.  You currently fit that bill as do these products of incest,” she said, waving a hand at the worker guys.  “Wanna see how he responds?  No?  Then how about this?  Get our orders done, we’ll pay and leave, and you all can go about your days.  Or we can get all excited and mix it up.  See what happens.  I’ll leave it to you, but if we end up in a… discussion, you should probably call the ambulances first, before the cops.  Those extra moments of medical attention may make a world of difference.”

The whole group waited on his response.  He glanced from the giant wolf to the broke-fisted guy crying on the floor and then at my eyes before looking quickly back to her.  “The food’s almost done anyway,” he grumbled, lowering the bat.

“Good.  Chris, why don’t you go with him to get the stuff and I’ll pay our bill,” Stacia said.

I followed the cook into the kitchen.  He refused to look my way, dropping the bat behind the door and heading over to the grill, where he flipped the burgers, stirred the pork, and then got the buns ready.  A few minutes later, he pulled the baskets of chicken and potatoes from the fryers, slapped the burgers and pork roughly into the buns and wrapped it all up.   Bagging it all, he shoved it in my direction with a rough, “Now get the fuck out!”

I took the food and headed out of the kitchen, finding Stacia waiting by the door with one hand casually draped on Awasos’s massive neck.  The workers were huddled around their friend, watching us with hate-filled eyes but otherwise not moving as we left the joint. The old couple sipped their coffee and watched us warily but overall didn’t look too put out.  In fact, I’d hazard a bet that it was the most entertaining lunch they’d had in a long time.

“Next time you see men hitting on me,” Stacia said in a frosty tone as we climbed into the car, “—why don’t you just sit the hell back and let me handle it!  That was almost a major cluster fuck!”

“They were all over you, and he had my chair,” I said, opening the bags and passing chicken back to ‘Sos.

“Do you think that was the first time some guys hit on me?  Or do you think I’m helpless?” she asked in a dangerous tone.  Warning bells were going crazy in my head as I realized I was standing in a minefield without a map.

“Well, they just ignored me.  I couldn’t let them dominate like that!” I said.

“If they were weres, then I’d agree with you.  But they were only human, and I’ve been handling men since puberty!  You are not a werewolf, Chris!  You don’t have to live and die by the whole macho dominance bullshit that they do!  He –" she poked a thumb over her shoulder at the wolf chomping chicken in the back, “will kill anything that threatens you, especially now that you’re not fully yourself.”

“All I did was yank the chair back!  I didn’t even move when he hit me,” I said.

“Why is that, Chris?  Why didn’t you move?” she asked.  I could tell by the way she asked it that she already had a pretty good idea of the answer.  Which was more than I had.

“I don’t know.  Something sort of froze me,” I answered quietly, thinking about the dark pressure in my chest when it happened.

“Something else sort of took control?  Is that it?”

I looked sharply in her direction, nodding at her words.  How did she know that?

“Remember when we talked about your other personality?  The one you likened to Anthony Hopkins mixed with Hugh Jackman?”

“I said Hannibal Lector mixed with Wolverine, with a little Chuck Norris,” I corrected.

“Whatever. I always remember actors not characters, especially Hugh,” she said a bit wistfully.  “But the point is, that whole freezing up thing?  That was your other self, Grim, tweaking the fight a bit.  Oh, he didn’t do much, just a little lockup of the muscles for a moment, but it resulted in Burt back there with a completely smashed hand, one he won’t be able to work with.  How’s he going to support his family?”

“Family?  Burt?  How the hell do I know?  He threw the punch—doesn’t he get to live with the consequences?  What if I’d been normal and he landed that punch?  I’d be in the hospital and he’d be in jail!”

She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.  “Look, of course you’re right.  He overreacted to you objecting to his taking your seat.  He threw the punch and if it ended up hurting him, then so be it.  My point is that you reacted with anger—emotion.  Instead of swallowing your ego, you escalated something that I had under control.  You failed to trust me to handle it, you couldn’t control your alter ego, and all that brought ‘Sos to protect you.  It could have been real bad.  You need to think before jumping in, that’s my point—and you need to trust that I can handle stuff!”

I thought about that.  I hadn’t thought, just reacted.  Physically, we had been under no real threat.  His fist had done nothing to me.  What if I had punched him?  He’d be dead or so badly damaged, it wouldn’t be much different from death.  I hadn’t controlled any part of the equation.  That wasn’t how I had been trained growing up.  Gramps would be disappointed by that performance.  I ran through the whole scene, right up to the point where Stacia paid for the food.  I couldn’t even handle that part—paying for stuff.

I pulled out my wallet and went through it, not recognizing much except my driver’s license, pistol permit, and diving certification.  Even the hunting license was the wrong color, with an unfamiliar address in New York City on it.  There was a debit card for a big bank, one I didn’t remember ever visiting.  I did find my old ATM card for the little bank where I’d opened my first savings and checking accounts, which made me feel better.

“I need to go home,” I said softly.

“That’s where we’re headed,” she replied.

“No—I mean home-home.  Back to the farm.  Back to my grandfather.”

She glanced my way a bunch of times, trying to read me, but I wasn’t feeling very much like sharing emotions right then.  I threw my wallet on the dash and stared out the window.

“Chris, it’ll be okay,” she said.

“Okay?  Why?  Because I will never age, never get sick, always heal?  Because I have a killer inside me that can wipe out entire gangs?  I don’t even know what I am.  The most important memories I have are gone, Stacia… spattered on someone’s house.  I don’t think it’ll ever be alright.”

She didn’t say anything to that, which was good, because there really wasn’t anything to say.

Chapter 23

We actually didn’t much further down the road before they hit us.  Lunch was done and bagged up and we were just settling into food coma when it happened.

I-81 crosses the New River just outside of Radford, Virginia.  Over five hundred feet of suspended highway bridging the river sixty feet below.

A third of the way over the bridge, we both noticed a big tractor trailer in front of us shudder as shreds of heavy black rubber exploded from its front left tire.  The driver fought the tractor into a jackknife that swung the trailer across to block the entire forty-foot width of the highway.  Brake lights lit up in front of us as the other seven cars ahead tried to go from seventy miles per hour to zero.  They did remarkably well, with only two cars briefly sideswiping each other before breaking apart and coming to a stop.

Stacia’s werewolf reflexes were more than adequate for the job.  She jumped us from the right lane to the left to avoid rear-ending a family in a minivan that must have had exceptional brakes.  We slid to a stop, and Katrina rolled off the back seats and banged into the back of us.  She didn’t make a sound.

I climbed out of the car, the darkness in my chest feeling like it was a split second from bursting out.  Behind us, cars were stopping in waves and ahead, other people were climbing out like I had.  The driver of the tractor trailer opened his cab door and started to step out, only to look suddenly out his passenger side window at something or someone at the other end of the bridge who we couldn't see.  A second later, he was flying backward toward us like a bomb had gone off.  A figure climbed up on top of the trailer, a man wearing black pants, a black shirt, and a black cape, of all things.

“That’s Cooper… Sam Cooper!” Stacia said, like I was supposed to know who that was.  Two other individuals climbed up on the trailer and the roof of the tractor’s cab—a man and a woman, both wearing the snazzy black capes.

“Chris, he’s a warlock we met last night, and he wants the book!  He must have brought his whole Circle with him.”

The black bulk in my chest burst forth, and my body was no longer my own.  A mental image of the surrounding terrain popped up like something the Terminator would have in his CPU.  Six figures ranged the bank of the river behind us, all with good views of the bridge.  Besides the three on the top of the semi, there were three more on the far shore.

“Listen, magic doesn’t work well over moving water, so they will want to stay on the banks.  My witch friend said that a strong circle of witches can transfer power among themselves,” Stacia instructed as she got out on her side.  My body didn’t answer her, just reached back into the car to the center console, grabbing a fistful of coins from the toll money we kept there.  I was completely puzzled by that move, but Stacia just took it in and gave a short sharp nod.  I think she knew more about what was happening to me than I did.

The lead guy on the truck raised his hand and a freaking fire ball shot out of it, hitting the front bumper of the Honda minivan to our right and knocking the whole car sideways and back.  The plastic bumper was melted and burning.  The father of the family just looked at me, shocked into utter stillness.

“Get out and get back,” a deeper voice than my own told him.  He struggled to get himself out of the car, immediately trying to open the back door, but it was jammed.  My hand reached past him and tore the door off the car.  He looked at me, shocked, as I stepped in front and faced the warlock, then the father hurried his children out of the van.

I had a brief flash of memory; a beautiful girl with impossible blue eyes smashing a ferrety woman with a silver car door.  Reality intruded into my flashback, bringing me back to the here and now.

“Give us the book, and no one needs to get hurt!” the warlock, Cooper, yelled, flinging another fireball at the Toyota Prius in front of the van.  I was just suddenly there, the thirty-seven feet of distance covered in an eyeblink. My other self deflected the ball of flame with the van door and threw the door like a giant metal frisbee, right at the witch.  He used his magic to knock the spinning sheet of metal off the bridge and into the water below.  The blackness in charge noted his technique, and my vision changed to show black threads linking the warlock with the other five members of his circle, but not to the people on the bank behind us.

My right hand ripped the Prius’s driver door off and threw it at the girl on the back end of the trailer.  Only I threw low, which to the part of me that was observing looked like a mistake.  The spinning door tore through the aluminum of the trailer right under her feet, under her magic, flinging her behind the trailer. The professor-looking driver of the Prius stumbled out onto the road and started to hustle away from me.

The other witches all began to throw magic, waves of black that came on alone or carried rocks and car parts. I dodged everything that came my way, always moving forward. The next hundred feet was a blurring zig-zag run from vehicle to vehicle that ended up with me about sixty feet from the big semi that was blocking the end of the bridge.

I noticed that some of the coins from my pocket were in each hand, which puzzled me until I started to throw.  Two things were immediately obvious: first, this other me was completely ambidextrous, each arm flinging with equal skill, and second, the throws had some real zing to them.  In fact, several of them flew out of my hands with a sharp crack, like a bullet might make as it passed supersonic speed.

The two warlocks on the trailer flinched as my shots sparked off their protective witch shields but were otherwise unhurt.  One of the witches on the bank wasn’t so lucky.  I think she was so busy sending her energy or magic or whatever at Cooper the lead warlock that she sorta forgot about her own little dome of protection.  My thrown quarter blew through her right thigh, knocking her clean off her feet.  The little thread of black that extended from her was gone, as was the one from the witch who had fallen off the back of the trailer.  The reduced wattage was immediately apparent, as each fireball that came at me moved slower and burned dimmer.

A revving motor caught my other self’s attention, a big motor, lots of power.  Turning, I saw another big rig that had rolled to a stop behind us was now starting to move.  The driver was in the act of bailing out of his seat, his reason for doing so standing on top of the cab.  Another warlock stood there, this one with bared tattooed arms pointing down at the driver’s cab below him, black tendrils of power streaming into the controls and engine.

The big truck was gaining speed, slowly grinding a Dodge pickup out of its path, inexorably building power.  Two more cars were in its path, their occupants unaware of the behemoth bearing down on them from behind.

Other-me stepped my body directly in line with the big truck, my left hand curiously dimpling five quarters by pressing my thumb down on the President’s face and squeezing slightly.

I had no clue as to why until one of the quarters was tossed up into the air, spinning slowly to my overly sharp senses.  I could feel myself wait until George’s pressed-in face was toward the truck, then both hands clapped sharply, each hand outlined with purple aura.  The resulting crack was sharp and loud; the streak of molten plasma was eye-searing as the suddenly sun-hot coin lasered into the truck’s engine.  Two more quarters followed as fast as a New York cop could empty his gun into a drug dealer.   The truck shuddered as its engine suffered catastrophic damage with an internal whump and steam started ejecting from the gaping holes through its radiator.

A streak of brown raced toward the truck: Awasos leaping and changing from wolf to bear in midair.  Huge, curved claws tore into the top of the cab as he pulled his half-ton body onto the small space, his massive skull head-butting the warlock off the truck, off the bridge, and over sixty feet to the water below.  The cab roof crushed down under the massive weight of the big were-bear, who stood up and roared at the sky.  Then he leaped off the truck roof, blurring in mid-air to become the more agile wolf-form, and was gone into the cars, headed toward the rear bank and the witches who stood there.

My dark half took advantage of the distraction to blast another dimpled quarter at Cooper’s form.   The actinic streak of liquid metal impacted the warlock’s personal force field and slowed to a halt, still burning magnesium bright.  Cooper’s face blistered and burned just from proximity to the burning coin.

Another flash of memory shot through my mind: a dark-haired woman in jeans, bending forward to look at a metal disc on a fence post while my grandfather’s voice said something about explosively formed projectiles.

The image disappeared as Cooper desperately tried to step back away from the scalding heat, only to fall off the trailer and drop out of sight.

The other witches scrambled to help their fellows, the warlock left on the truck throwing feeble bursts of wind at me as cover for his fellows.  Behind me, I could hear Awasos roar at the other crew of witches, and a glance showed them running in every direction.

Stacia’s voice reached me as I started after Cooper.  “Chris, a little help here!”

She was trying to hold a Chevy Suburban SUV and keep it from falling off the bridge.  It was almost touching the ruined big rig, which had been smashed halfway off the highway.  I covered the distance in a blur, grabbing the trailer hitch of the big car and pulling backward, adding my strength to hers.  My feet automatically held the ground like they were fastened to it somehow as my dark self helped the werewolf girl pull the SUV to safety.

“You all right?” she asked the shell-shocked soccer mom at the steering wheel.

The lady nodded, wide-eyed, her children’s faces looking out the back passenger window.

“We gotta leave.  Now!” Stacia said, whistling for Awasos.  “Get that driver to move his truck, will you?  But don’t hurt him!”

She headed for the Volvo while my body turned toward the truck and its driver, who was sitting on his ass where he’d been thrown by the witches’ magic.   My left hand grabbed his and pulled him easily to his feet.  All the witches were gone, the last of them scrambling into the woods nearest the bridge.

“Move your truck,” my deeper than normal voice said.  He just looked at me, too shocked to move.  I felt myself lean closer.  “They are after us.  If we leave, so will they!”

He nodded and stumbled toward his truck.  My body turned and headed back to the Volvo while the truck driver worked his rig enough to let our car get by.

Chapter 24

“You guys made horrible time!”

Just like that, Katrina popped up, her face peeking out of the mummy bag.  We were halfway across New Jersey, and it was just starting to get dark.

“We hit some bridge destruction in Virginia and rush hour in Harrisburg,” I said.

“You mean construction, half-brain,” she replied.

“He means de-struction Katrina, as in a full circle of witches, led by Samuel Cooper, attempting to get the book of Darkest Sorrow,” Stacia said, glancing at the vampire in the rearview mirror.

Katrina took that in and looked around the car.  Everything was mostly fine except for a small mountain of fast food bags that I had piled on her supine body.

“How’d that go?” she asked.

I handed her the iPad with the local television station’s coverage of the I-81 bridge accident.  The clip, which was several hours old, showed numerous rescue vehicles, police cruisers, and not a few black government-looking SUVs cleaning up the scene.  The reporter explained that there was valuable evidence from the terror attack, so they weren’t letting news crews get onto the bridge, which had only one lane open for the miles of built-up traffic.

“I see.  You guys don’t appear hurt. How’s the other side?”

“They took some casualties, and Cooper’s gonna need some a good plastic surgeon for his face,” Stacia said.  “There may be one dead—a warlock.”

“How about collateral damage? This news lady doesn’t really say much.”

“Some civilians banged up, but otherwise, no.  The witches had the good sense to break off when Chris and Awasos started to mess up their plans.”

“Oh hey!  Did you catch these interviews?” Katrina asked.  She turned the iPad so I could see along with her.  The reporter was interviewing the father from the Honda minivan.

“-certain that they must have been terrorists.  But the government guy stopped them—cold.  They were launching these little missiles but he helped me get my kids out, then started shooting back at them.  He had a Glock, I think, and wore a uniform.”

“I didn’t have a Glock.  I have a Glock tee shirt!” I corrected, looking down at my gray pants and black shirt.

Now the reporter was talking to the soccer mom from the Suburban that almost went off the bridge.

“Oh she was beautiful, like Cameron Diaz but prettier.  Here I am rocking on the edge of the bridge and she just shows up and grabs the back of my car, keeping it steady till her partner could get there.  Somehow they managed to drag it back. Maybe that big dog they had helped or something.  I don’t know. It’s very hard to remember… I was so scared.  But my kids and I are alive because of them,” she said, looking at the camera as she finished.

“Really?  They think we’re heroes?  Wow, this country is getting dumb!” I said.

“I know I’m gonna regret this, but why, Chris?  What’s wrong with them thinking you two were heroes?” Katrina asked, puzzled.

“Well, Stacia maybe, but me?  I’m like some amnesia-ridden serial killer.  No idea what I’m doing or where I’m going.  Just tearing apart cars and shooting EFP’s at people.”

“What’s an EFP?” Katrina asked.

“Explosively formed projectile.  Basically a small disc of metal that is collapsed into a form of plasma moving at ultrasonic speeds.”

“How did you remember that?” Stacia asked, highly intrigued.

“I didn’t.  He did.  The other me,” I said.  They both just raised their eyebrows, exchanging a glance in the rearview mirror.  “The psycho me that you called Grim.  He seems to remember stuff.  I got some flashes of memories,” I finished.

“So you’re saying that when Grim is out, you remember stuff?” Katrina asked.

“I guess.  At least I did this time, but you’re sidetracking me.  I can’t believe those people thought I was fighting missile-shooting terrorists.”

“People see what they expect to see Chris,” Katrina said.  “If I’ve learned anything in a hundred plus years, it’s that humans excel at self-delusion.”

“She’s right, Chris.  Those people were going about their daily lives when fireballs start flying and things are exploding.  What else are they going to think, if not terrorists?  Your tricks with the quarters would easily seem to be gunshots.  Honestly, it’s better this way.  People watching TV don’t need to see witches and weres, now do they?”

“Shit!  TV!  Shit!” Katrina exclaimed, fumbling out her phone.  It started to ring before she could turn it on.

“Hi T, how are ya?” she answered, giving me an oh shit look.

“Hey, we’re almost to the City.  What?  Yeah, apparently a bit of a dust-up in Virginia.  It’s that book I told you about.  The witches are seriously jonesing for it.”

She stopped talking for a moment and then handed the phone to me.

“Christian, are you well?” that amazing voice asked.  This time, the image of the girl with the car door popped into my head as she spoke, the same one who had been looking at the disc on the fence.

“Yeah.  Hey, I think I remember what you look like,” I said, before realizing that my words might be a touch insensitive to someone who was basically my girlfriend.

“You do?” she asked, her voice filled with hope, which meant maybe I hadn’t offended her.

Katrina looked excited by my little admission, but Stacia frowned in the rearview before focusing on the road ahead.

“A little.  You have black hair and blue-blue eyes, right?”

“Yes, Zayka!  Yes, I do,” she laughed, the sound rolling down my spine, giving me goosebumps… the good kind.  What was with my reaction to this girl’s voice?

“Well, I had flashes of memory when the other part of me was fighting? I think he might have better memories.”

“That is possible, my love.  Grim is from the deepest part of your mind.”

“So maybe I’ll just have to get in more fights, you know, to remember more,” I said, attempting a joke.  I was a little nervous, talking to a beautiful woman who was allegedly my girlfriend.  What if the me that met her before was different than this me?  Maybe she would lose her attraction.

“I am not liking that idea, my zayka.  I think we can just give it some time,” she said.

“Unless I get whacked by another vampire assassin,” I said casually.  It was one of those odd thoughts that seem humorous to you but, when spoken out loud, falls flat like a drunk frat boy at a dance party.  Stacia gave me a worried look while Katrina palmed her head at my stupidity.  The girl on the phone, Tatiana, went dead quiet.  I could feel the ice right through the cell phone.

“I have taken steps in that regard, Christian.  Katrina was helpful in providing enough information on the Darkkin scum who shot you.  I have expressed my anger to the rest of the Coven.  But your point is well taken.  I must go now and see to your arrival.  We will be together shortly, my love.”

“Okay, Tatiana-" I caught Katrina’s mouthed word just in time, “I mean Tanya.”

“Goodbye Christian, for the moment,” she said before the connection ended.

“Boy, you are smooth,” Katrina said sarcastically.

“Give him a break, he doesn’t remember her… much,” Stacia said, frowning at the last word.  “How’s he supposed to know how to handle an obsessed supernatural psycho?”

Katrina actually hissed at the blonde girl before turning back to me.  “She tore apart seven vampires that might have been involved in the attempt on your life.  She had Nika—she’s one of the Coven’s most powerful telepaths—read every Darkkin in New York till she found the guilty ones.  I’m told it was so savage, it even shocked Elders Senka and Mausya,” she said, taking a deep breath near me.  It was her second such sniff in the last few minutes.

“Okay, I don’t really know what any of that means or who any of those people are, except it sounds like she was pretty mad.  Why the hell do you keep sniffing me?” I asked as she did it again.

“I forgot how good you smell,” she said with her eyes shut and the tips of her fangs extruding over her bottom lip.

“What?  What the hell are you talking about?” I asked.

“Memory loss, Katrina… remember,” Stacia said, grimacing at her own twist on words.

“Oh yeah. Right.  Well it’s like this, slugger.  You smell like the most delicious meal possible to vampires.  Something about your blood.  It would be like the smells of the six best meals you could imagine all rolled up into one mixture.”

“So what?  Are you gonna try and bite me?”

“Oh, hell no!  Are you insane?  Did you hear the supervampire on the phone?  She literally tore seven vampires apart.  Like rag dolls. Arms, legs, and heads ripped clean off their bodies.  Then she split their chests open with her hands, yanked out their hearts, and pinned them to the wall.  All seven hearts lined up, spiked head high on the wall of the room she found them in!”

“Didn’t they fight back?” Stacia asked.

“Fight back?  Of course.  For all the good it did them.  Listen, blondie, you’re pretty good for a wolf, especially one who’s only been at it for a couple of years.  You and I would have a pretty good bout.  But Tanya?  She’s instant death!  Two of the vampires were over five hundred years old and armed with swords.  The others were all over one-fifty.  She just took them apart—barehanded.  Four different vampires told me about it.  They were all part of Tanya’s security team, so they know her, but even they were completely shocked.  Get this through your heads, both of you," she said, poking a finger at me, “you are her Chosen!  Forever, for always, till the end of time!  She is the only vampire born to the race! She does stuff that even Elders can’t. And she is absolutely without mercy or humor when it comes to you.  More so since you had to flee.”

I tried to process all that, but I just couldn’t put it together.  I had only the barest of memories of this beautiful girl and no memories of any other vampires.  Katrina was the only specimen I had to go by, and right now, still wearing most of the sleeping bag, she looked like a demented teenage worm-girl with arms.

“Okay, tell me more about this Coven.  It sounds pretty complex… lots of rules and politics.  I’m not good at political stuff,” I said.

“No shit, Sherlock!” Katrina said.  “Okay, let Auntie K school you.  We’ll cram what we can into that thick, damaged skull of yours in the time left.”

Stacia gave her a nasty glare at her description of my head, but it rolled off the youthful-looking vampire like water on Teflon.  After a moment’s pause to gather her thoughts, Katrina launched into a lesson on vampire politics.  Surprisingly, it was well thought out, concise, and full of useful facts.  It lasted till Stacia pulled into an underground parking garage in Manhattan and turned off the car.

Instantly, the vehicle was surrounded by really serious-looking people who had so many weapons that they appeared to grow from their skin.

“Here we go!” Katrina said as we stepped out of the car.  I didn’t like the nervous tone in her voice.  I was worried enough as it was.

Chapter 25

They were all vampires, I just somehow knew it.  And they were older than Katrina, for the most part.  And despite their professional demeanor and outwardly calm appearances, they were, to an individual, scared.  Even the big Russian who seemed in charge of the security detail was worried.

The group in front of us split apart, allowing another group of three to approach.  They were all female and my instant impression was that all were attractive, but that’s where all comparisons stopped.  Along with my breathing.  The girl in the middle was her, but my meager memories had done her no justice at all.  Heart-stopping… breath-stealing… time-freezing.  None of those phrases come close.  Glossy rich black hair the color of space, eyes so blue, they burned.  Skin a perfect creamy white.  She wore black leggings and a clingy green shirt and she looked so good, it had to be illegal in every state.  Like walking-talking-living sin.

My vision had shrunken to include just her and her alone; the sound of my heart pounding filled both ears.  I could literally feel the emotion coming off her in waves.  Love, joy, desire, fear of loss, uncertainty, need, lust, and possessiveness were interwoven with jealousy and not a little anger.  She also wanted to bite me… very badly.

“Tanya, he’s lost a lot,” the pretty blonde vampire on her left said.  This one was staring at me with focused eyes like she was trying to see inside of me.

“I can tell, Nika,” Tanya replied, never looking away.  She moved closer, her lithe body graceful.  Before I could quite prepare myself, she was directly in front of me, her eyes finally moving off of mine to study my forehead.  “I don’t see anything.”

“It healed almost instantly,” Stacia said from behind me.

Things changed fast.  Tanya was gone, the wind from her passage ruffling my tee shirt.  I turned and found her holding Stacia by the throat with one hand, bending the werewolf girl over the hood of the Volvo without effort.  Her fangs were fully extended and she was slowly moving down to Stacia’s neck.  Not going without a fight, Stacia’s clothes ripped and tore as she shifted into a beast-woman form, muscles expanding and jaws reforming.  It wouldn’t do her any good.  I knew that, deep in my core, the same way I knew that I couldn’t possibly stop the insanely fast vampire from killing Stacia.  Even with Grim’s speed, it wasn’t possible.  The vampire was as fast or possibly faster than my alter-ego.

“Stop!” I yelled.

Tanya’s head turned as if on a pivot, the rest of her body frozen, easily holding the thrashing were.  At my word, Stacia stopped fighting as well, turning her glowing, green wolf eyes as far in my direction as the steel hand clamped around her throat would allow.

“I remember you… I feel you!  Here –" I said, patting my chest. “Inside me.  I can’t remember almost anything of before, but I somehow know you.  And I know that you can feel me, right now!  So feel this—if you kill her or hurt her, then I am through!  Whatever we had and might have will be gone!”

“You would leave me for her?” the ebony-haired girl hissed, her face contorted with sudden pain.

“I will leave you if you hurt her.  I don’t know much about my recent life.  I… I can’t remember anyone or anything but you.  But I know she is my friend!  I know it! And she has done nothing but help me and have my back since I was shot.  You cannot kill her without killing something between us,” I said, moving closer to my vampire.  And she was my vampire.  I knew that—at the cellular level, maybe.  But my words were honest, and she felt the truth of them through whatever it was that linked us.

She let go of the blonde werewolf’s neck, standing upright and moving in front of me in one eye-blurring movement.  “She wants to take you from me!  I will not allow it!” she protested, her voice just a sibilant whisper.

“I know that.  She’s been nothing but honest about it.  In fact, she’s been nothing but honest with me from the moment I woke up.  I think… I feel that she was honest with me before I got shot, as well.  And Tanya, no one else has been completely honest with me.  I feel like even you have kept things from me.  Am I wrong?”

She didn’t answer, but the link between us did.  She had kept things from me.  Things she felt it was safer I didn’t know. I answered her unspoken words.

“See, that may be true, but I still need to know those things, even if it endangers me.  So you see, she’s my friend.  She says she’s in love with me, and I have to take her at her word.  I can’t help how she feels, but I can tell you she has been a true friend through everything.  In fact, she could have lied about dozens of things when I awoke last night, standing in the woods with a dead vampire assassin.  But she didn’t.  I don’t think I have too many friends, let alone ones that are that honest with me.  I can’t afford to lose a friend like that.”

The waves of emotion I felt were shame, discomfort, and intense, white-hot fear of losing me, along with jealousy.

I took her deadly hands in mine, wondering at the feel of them, seeing them like it was the first time, which to the current me, it was.  “Tanya, I have lost almost everything I had for memories,” I said. “But I can feel this bond between us.  And I get memories back when my dark half is out.  That gives me hope, which I haven’t really had much of since last night.  I need you, I can feel that.  But I also need the few friends I have.  Last night, an assassin blew two years out of my head.  Today, a band of witches tried to roast me for a book.  I’m told that yesterday afternoon, I somehow closed a portal to Hell, and the night before that, I had to exorcise three little girls all at once.  I needed help to handle all that, and I get the impression that things are only just getting started.”

She just nodded, internally struggling with the fear for me that my words had invoked.  She swallowed, then turned to Stacia, who was almost back to fully human but otherwise hadn’t moved.  “He is mine!  He will always be mine!” she said in a deadly tone. “But it seems possible that you may have helped him or even saved him. So despite your coveting my Chosen, I will let you live.”  Then she turned from the barely clothed were and back to me. “I will tolerate any who protect you, but that’s it.  Get his stuff.” She directed the last bit to one of the security vampires.  Another vamp opened the tailgate of the Volvo, then jumped back as Awasos landed lightly on the concrete floor, holding a luggage bag in his teeth.  It was Stacia’s bag, and the giant wolf carried it to her, dropping it at her feet.

“Thanks, ‘Sos,” she said quietly.

“You, too?” Tanya asked the big beast, who just woofed at her softly.  He, too, was, in his own way, explaining his opinion of the platinum were girl.  Shaken by her first meeting with the supernatural force named Tanya, Stacia was doing a good job of regaining her composure as she took undamaged clothes from the bag and pulled them on.

The tension in the bond had lessened enough that I was able to spare some attention for the group around us.  All of the vampires had been on a hair trigger, all had been watching their young leader from the corners of their eyes. They were walking on eggshells, like bomb technicians handling nitroglycerin.

I had, according to all accounts, been gone for three days.  Apparently, it had been a bad time in the world of New York vampires, and if I was correct, the generator of those unhappy moments was standing five and a half feet tall, directly in front of me.

A siren whooped, echoing off the underground garage walls.  An NYPD cruiser rolled around the corner from the street ramp, followed by a second one, both with their lights flashing.  The driver powered down his window and looked us over, chewing gum while he did so.  If the weapons displayed by the security vamps were of concern, he didn’t show it.

“One of you named Gordon?” he said to all of us but looked directly at me.

“That’s what they tell me,” I replied.  The passenger door opened and a dark suit stood up.

“The Commissioner wants to see you,” the new guy said.  Tall, middle age, good condition, fairly high up on the police food chain.  Likely a Lieutenant or higher.  How all that came to me, I don’t know, but the information was just there, stuff I just seemed to know.

“Why?” Tanya asked.

“He don’t explain stuff to us… Ma’am,” the uniformed driver said, studying her appearance and liking what he saw.

“The Man just said to find you and bring you in.  Said you hadn’t returned his calls,” the suit said.  “You coming, or do we gotta bring you?”

I thought about that for a bit.  I could resist.  Really, really well. But then I’d have the whole department after me.  For what?  Refusing a meeting with the Commission of the NYPD.  Nah, if I went to war with the forces of New York, it’d be for a better reason than that.

Tanya and her blonde friend both turned and looked at me incredulously as I ran through that.  The little Goth-looking vamp who had also come with Tanya had a worried expression on her cute little face.  Stacia just looked puzzled.

“Alright.  Although I wasn’t ignoring his calls.  I just don’t have a cell phone anymore,” I said.

“Tell it to the Man,” the suit said. “We don’t really care.”

Thirty-five minutes later found us pulling up to One Police Plaza.  Tanya, Awasos, and I piled out of the back of the first cruiser, while Stacia, the blonde Nika, and the little vampire who was named Lydia got out of the other cop car.  The two vampires ignored the werewolf as much as they could, and Stacia just bore it with stoic grace.

The conversation where I explained that the four women and the big wolf dog would have to accompany me had been interesting.  The cops were happy to ogle any and all of the women, but their orders were to just bring me in.  Add on an almost-three-hundred-pound wolf, and it got a bit tense.  The boys in blue gave in when Tanya spoke to them in an odd tone of voice.  Flashbacks to Star Wars and Obi Wan Kenobi popped into my head.  Those, at least, I could remember.

The cops in the lobby all turned and watched our little procession as the suited cop took us up the elevator to the Commish’s floor.

The office we were ushered into was plush and impressive.  Beautiful wood, fine furniture, expensive drapes, and carpet.  Lots of photos with important people.

The man waiting for us fit the room.  Buzz-cut gray hair, square physique, and a square jaw that framed a serious pair of penetrating blue eyes.  A full Inspector and a Deputy Inspector stood to either side of the big desk.

“I remember asking for Gordon and only Gordon.  Did I ask for anyone else, Larry?” he said to the Inspector but kept his eyes on the Lieutenant, who about crumbled under the scrutiny.

“He had the choice of bringing all of us or none of us,” I said, immediately hostile to the man for reasons I couldn’t put my finger on.  He was impressive and commanded respect, but I had almost a visceral hatred for him on sight.  Stacia had told me I had worked for the NYPD until my group was disbanded.  Maybe some part of me remembered who was responsible for that.

“In this City, it should have been you with a choice—of handcuffs or not,” he growled at both the L.T. and me.  “Bringing a troupe of models and a wooly mammoth was not part of my instructions,” he said.

“Hmm, models… perhaps that is a complement?” Tanya said, catching his attention.  “I will choose to take it as such.  But my name is Tatiana Demidova, Commissioner Rielly, and I pay a big slice of the taxes that give you all this,” she said with a sweep of her hand.

Rielly was quick, I had to give him that.  My first sight of the vampire princess had almost left me witless… more witless.  He not only handled that but also managed to attach some sort of recognition to her name, which appeared to be a big deal.  Both of his lackeys straightened unconsciously, looks of mild panic flitting across their faces.  But the Commish just raised his eyebrows as he visibly recalculated the situation.

“A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Demidova.  I’m afraid your manner of dress and beauty put me in mind of fashion models.  My apology,” he said with a wave at their clothes.

I hadn’t really been paying attention at the time, but the clothes that Stacia had pulled on were black leggings and a clingy blue top.  Platinum blonde hair, green eyes, wearing blue and black, next to a girl with galaxy-black hair and blue eyes, wearing green and black, they looked exactly like deliberately dressed super models.  Nika and Lydia both wore sleek pantsuits; Nika’s red and black and Lydia’s just black.

“Well, we weren’t expecting an armed summons," Tanya said. "My fiancée has been away, Commissioner Rielly, and somehow, your troops found him within minutes of his arrival back in the city.”

“We’ve got a new vehicle recognition program that uses the city’s traffic cameras.  It was looking for that Volvo,” he explained.

“Ah yes.  I believe one of my companies may have built that for you,” she said, nodding thoughtfully.  “But perhaps we can get to the reason for your interest in my Christian?”

Her tone and words were very clear.  She would use every resource at her disposal for my protection.  Katrina had explained a little bit about some of those resources, and what little I knew boggled my mind.  And that was just the public Demidova Empire.  It did not include the massive Coven that backed the young vampire princess.

The wheels spun and turned in Commissioner Rielly’s head as he reevaluated the situation.

“Perhaps we’ve started this on the wrong foot.  Gordon, this city is facing a problem we have no solution for.  When I came into this office with the Mayor, I was given some bad advice by an agent of Homeland Security.  Had I known then even a part of what I know now, I would never have disbanded the Special Situations Squad.  But I did.  And now we have a… problem.”

His phone buzzed at that moment and the Inspector standing by the desk picked it up, listened for a breath, then said, “Commissioner, they’ve arrived.”

At a brisk nod from his boss, the Inspector said into the phone, “Send them in.”

The big door behind us opened and a white-haired man, wearing the robes of a Catholic Cardinal strode in, accompanied by a pretty Hispanic woman with dark hair and dark eyes.

“Have you told him about the demons yet?” the man asked.

Chapter 26

“Chris Gordon, meet the Archbishop of New York, Cardinal Kellan,” the Commissioner said.

Apparently this was my first time meeting him, which was a relief.  Coming face to face with dozens of people you’re supposed to know but don’t is really stressful. You don’t even know what you don’t know anymore.

“And you already know Gina Velasquez,” he said, waving at the woman who was completely foreign to me.  She watched me with steady, careful eyes as she shook my hand.  “We’ll get caught up later,” she said.  She knows I don’t remember. I could just tell that from her expressions and mannerisms.  Then she hugged the little punky vampire, the blonde vamp, and my vampire as well.  So she was clued in, but she was clearly human.  One who was comfortable hugging vampires.

The Cardinal’s eyes had widened at the sight of the three vampires with me.  While the police brass hadn’t shown the slightest sign that they recognized the women as anything other than inordinately attractive females, the Cardinal showed a hint of discomfort that, once you saw it, was definitely fear.

“Mr. Gordon, I’ve heard a great deal about you—all good,” he rushed to add at my frown.

I was frowning because it seemed like an awful lot of people knew about me, apparently including the highest-ranking member of the Catholic Church in New York State.  What the hell had I been up to for the last two years?

“Has the Commissioner explained our problem to you?” Cardinal Kellan asked.  I shook my head.  Kellan looked at Rielly with raised eyebrows, and the Commissioner took the hint.

“Eight days ago, police responded to a 911 call in the Bronx.  Domestic disturbance in a third-floor apartment.  When they got there, they found three dead bodies and a crazed woman with a knife who they had to shoot in self-defense.  But when they checked with other residents in the building, they found more bodies and at least one more crazy, this one male.  That one they Tasered into submission, but it took two cops with two Tasers to do it.  Twenty-four hours later, he had chewed the veins in his wrists open and committed suicide.

“There were eight apartments in that building.  One family was away, traveling.  Another was barricaded in place and only came out when officers could convince them it was safe.  Several other people were at work and missed the fun.  But everyone else in the building was dead—butchered by their fellow residents.  As near as we can tell, it started with the basement apartment, where a young artist killed his boyfriend and then himself.  Two days later, his upstairs neighbor smelled decay and broke in. Shortly after that, we think that neighbor went crazy and killed his girlfriend.  It seemed to spread, with one or two of the inhabitants attacking and brutally killing the others.  The investigating cops started to feel nauseous, so we cleared the building and sent hazmat crews in.  They got sick as well.  But everyone who felt it got better as soon as they left the building,” Rielly said.

“That’s when the Church got involved,” Cardinal Kellan said.  “One of my priests is what you might call sensitive.  He was drawn to the crowd of onlookers, and when he got close enough to the building, he got a vibe.   A bad vibe, if you get my drift.”

“Demonic?” I asked, intrigued and more than a bit horrified.

“Exactly.  He reported up his line of authority, and it got to me.  Rielly and I have known each other for several decades, so I felt he might listen to me.  He didn’t.”

“Not until I experienced it myself!” Rielly said quickly.  “All the hazmat tests came back negative, so I went in with a small team which included two of the Cardinal’s experts.  Felt it instantly.”

“Dispair?  Hopelessness?  Feelings of worthlessness?”  I asked.

The Commissioner looked startled, then nodded slowly.  “Yes, although those words don’t do the emotions justice.”

“Yeah, it’s like nothing will ever be right again and, in fact, there is no reason to even hope it could be.”

The Commissioner blinked at me for a second, then turned to the dark-haired Gina.  “Okay, so he understands.  But can he do this?”

“He has been doing this his whole life, and he is standing right here,” I said, immediately annoyed.

Everyone looked at me like I had three heads.  Okay, so maybe I jumped into angry mode a bit quick, but I was frustrated with everyone treating me… well, like they had been treating me.

Tanya, who was standing very close—a fact I had been intensely aware of—touched my left hand with her right.  I instantly felt better.  And slightly embarassed.

“Chris, this sounds like more than one,” Gina said carefully.

“He handled three at once a couple of days ago and closed a major gate the day after that,” Stacia said.

“You closed a Gate?” Gina asked.  Tanya and the other two vampires were staring daggers at Stacia, which distracted me.  It also raised my blood pressure enough that I moved two steps away from Tanya, whose attention shifted instantly from the wolf girl to me.  I met her gaze for a couple of seconds before answering Gina with a nod.   I didn’t remember any of it, but a lot of werewolves had told me I had, so I had to go with that.

“It was as big as that wall,” Stacia said, directing her comments to Gina and the men while ignoring the vampires.

Awesome.  Hey campers, today’s conditions point to a high potential for getting caught in the middle of supernatural catfight.

Gina, the Cardinal, and Commissioner Rielly were all contemplating the big wall of awards and photos that the blonde girl had indicated.  Gina turned back to me, although I saw her read the tension among the women in a single glance.  She looked thoughtful.  This Gina impressed me.  She was calm as a cucumber in the midst of vampires, werewolves, Police Commissioners, and the Archbishop of New York.  She radiated intelligence and perception.  It made me wonder how well I knew her—you know—before I lost my mind, or at least a big chunk of it.

“So, Mr. Gordon, it seems you can help us. The question, therefore, is will you help us?” Cardinal Kellan asked.

I reflected on that for a moment, just a moment, and realized I had a choice.  I could just walk away.  In fact, I had no idea how I had closed the Hellgate down south, so maybe I should skip this one.  Something squirmed in my brain, down by my left ear.  It wasn’t a physical squirm like some parasite but a roiling of the synapses.  A chunk of information ready to be used.  I thought of Hellgates and it did it again, that little writhing feeling.

I got the impression that everything I needed for closing the gate was still there, so that wasn’t an excuse.  And I thought about my family… dead for fifteen, no, seventeen years at the hands of a Hellbourne.

“Yeah, let’s do it,” I said.  Instant relief flooded the faces of the Cardinal, Commissioner, and the other men.  Stacia just nodded once, and the vampires stayed poker faced.  Gina studied me, a flicker of something like surprise crossing her features.

Chapter 27

They drove us there late in the evening in a hazardous materials van, complete with police escort.  The cover story had to do with chemicals spilled in an illegal basement lab or something equally implausible.

We had the back of the van to ourselves: the three vamps, Gina, myself, the wolf girl, and my woolly masta-dog.  It occurred to me that I hadn’t been this close to this many beautiful women ever… that I could remember.

No sooner had the van doors closed and Gina was asking for the sorry details.  Which meant Stacia did most of the speaking.  She explained our entire trip south.  I listened carefully, hoping something would trigger a memory or two.  Nothing.

“So Chris,” Gina began when Stacia had finished, “what’s the most recent thing you can remember?”

I had spent a lot of hours on the trip north working on that very puzzle.

“I remember testing for the NYPD Academy and getting in.  I remember talking about it with Gramps, er, my grandfather, that is.”

“We know your Gramps, Chris.  Quite well,” Gina said with a gentle smile.

“You do?” I asked, truly shocked at the thought of him meeting this particular group of women.

“Nika has only met him once or so, but Lydia and I talk to him somewhat regularly.  I’ve stayed at the farm many times.  In your room.  The one with the mounted stuffed moose on the wall,” Tanya said softly.

She had seen my stuffed moose trophy?  It wasn’t a real moose head, but a blatant toy, a stuffed animal moose.  A silly gift from my father.  Dad and I had been reading Call of the Wild together at bedtime and I had told him that he and I and Marcus, my brother, should all go moose hunting in Alaska someday.  It was two weeks before my seventh birthday and when I opened all my presents, there was the moose.

I stared at her, shocked that she knew all about my moose while I didn’t have a single complete memory of her.  Of any of them.  It was like a bad dream.  The kind where you don’t know anyone around you or what you’re supposed to be doing, but everyone knows you.

I felt a pit open in my stomach, a hollow feeling.  What had I lost?

A slim, white hand covered my own, bringing me back to the present.  “We’re all still here.  You’ll get it back. It’ll take time, but I know you will get it back,” she said firmly.

“Can you read my mind?  To know what I’m thinking?” I asked her.

“Feelings mostly, but I’ve gotten to know you well enough that I can usually interpret what’s driving them.  You do much of the same with me.  Nika, here, is the only true mindreader in our group.”

“You can read minds?” I asked the blonde vampire.  She nodded.  I had my doubts.

“The number four, a mountain under blue sky, a tropical beach complete with coconuts, and all of us in bikinis”, she said suddenly, reading the stream of thoughts I had run through my head as a test.  I was speechless.

“Bikinis?  What colors?” the little goth vamp, Lydia, asked.

“Mine was red, yours and Gina’s black, Tanya’s blue, of course, and hers was white,” Nika answered with a nod a Stacia. Which had the unfortunate result of bringing attention back to the wolf girl they all seemed to hate.  Except Gina, who was watching everyone and everything.

“I would know what you left out about the Asheville trip?” Tanya asked Stacia, who looked sullen and angry, just shaking her head without answering.

“She left out something about a witch girl from Michigan.  Erika?  She had some kind of spell on Chris.  Oh!  A love spell?  Had one of his hairs, only he’s resistant to magic, so it didn’t fully take.  Some of the spell transferred to her!” Nika said.

“What?” Tanya came up off her seat, eyes flashing.

“Stay the fuck out of my head!” the weregirl said in almost a growl.  After a tense second, she turned back and explained, “Some teenage witch you two met in Michigan.  She had been casting a love spell on Chris with a hair.  Apparently she’s blonde and he doesn’t respond to magic well.  We figured it out and he removed it.”

“What’s this about transferring to you?  Did you sleep with my Chosen?” Tanya asked in a deadly quiet voice. Stacia didn’t answer, just turned away and folded her arms.  Tanya started to move, but Nika’s voice stopped her.  “No, she didn’t.  She’s the one that figured out there was a problem and found out how he could stop it.”

Tanya went from kill mode to puzzled in a split second.  I was getting whiplash from trying to keep up.

“Explain,” my vampire said. “About this transference.”

Stacia didn’t answer, and everyone sat frozen for a moment. Then she spoke.  “He started to stare at me, a lot, which is unusual for him.  He got flustered if I joked with him, you know in a flirty way.  It wasn’t normal.  Then we found the book and he called the mother witch, Quin or Quincy, or something.”

“Quinby,” Tanya supplied.

“Yeah, Quinby.  Only this Erika answered, almost like she expected him to call.  She was blatantly coming on to him. She knew things he was thinking about,” Stacia said.

“Like reading his mind?” Lydia asked.  Stacia shook her head.  “Like she had planted the image or idea.  I suggested that he left a hair or fingernail behind and then he scanned himself and found a connection to her.  My witch friend told me how he could get rid of it and he did.  End of story.”

“You chose not to take advantage of his misdirected interest?” Gina asked.

“It would be like taking advantage of a drunk guy.  Easy to do but artificial and it would ultimately end badly,” Stacia said, examining her nails.

“Yes… it would have,” Tanya said softly. “But you seem to have honor… and integrity.”

The van stopped, and so did our conversation. The same detective who took us to the Comish opened the back doors.  “Grab a suit and cover up. We want to keep our cover story intact.  You can take them off inside if you prefer.”

We each grabbed a hazmat suit from the assortment hanging on the front wall of the van and climbed into them.  The van’s driver and his partner helped us figure out the complicated connections and hoses.  They were like kids in a candy store with five beautiful women to help.  Me, I just did the best I could.  I made Awasos stay with the van.

The building was old but looked okay from the outside.  A four-story with brick exterior and parking in the back.  The rest of the street looked much the same: smaller, older apartment buildings on a quiet little street.  Further up the road, big white letters were painted on the asphalt indicating a school crossing zone.  Normal stuff.

But the building felt off.  Corrupted, like it was ready to ooze blood and filth.  I started forward and the five women tramped after me, their svelte figures hidden by the spacesuit-like hazmat outfits.  They looked like dumpy little spacemen as we passed the cops and emergency service people posted outside.  That was amusing till I realized they were going with me—into the building—where there were demons.

“Hey, where do you all think you’re going?”

“We all have our necklaces.  We’ll be fine,” Tanya said.

Necklaces?  I waited till we were inside the front door way and out of view of the people outside.  Then I popped my helmet off.  The others followed suit.

A quick scan showed nothing demonic around us, but the creepy vibe had increased tenfold.

“What’s all this about necklaces?” I asked the suit-shucking women.

Lydia kicked her feet free and pulled several necklaces free of her shirt.  Gina, Nika, and Stacia all did the same.  Tanya just unzipped the half zipper on her green performance shirt and pulled it apart enough to show me an unmistakable arrowhead and eagle feather necklace nestled in her cleavage.

Seeing that necklace was yet another shock.  I should have been immune by now, but the shocks just kept coming.

I opened my Sight and looked them all over.  Five bubbles of violet surrounded them completely, each sphere a powerful protection from demonkind.

“I gave you those?” I asked. Everyone nodded.  “And you’ve been with me on exorcisms before?”

“Lydia and I have,” Tanya said.

“I helped you with the possessed were children and closing the Hellgate,” Stacia said, earning herself sharp looks from the vampires and a respectful nod from Gina.

“It’ll be my first,” Gina said.

“Mine as well,” Nika added.

“Be mindful of attack, especially from behind,” I warned them, as it appeared they were hellbent on coming. “They’ll fling things at you, say stuff to you, mess with your heads, but only if they know where you are.  Those nifty necklaces should hide you as long as you stay quiet.  Watch each other’s backs.”

“What about you?” Gina asked.

“I’m gonna draw their attention… make myself a target,” I answered.  It was the only thing I was certain of, the only part of my life that I was confident I could handle.  I still remembered how to handle demons.  “All right, let’s go.”

Chapter 28

The building was a pit on the inside.  Equal parts slaughterhouse and outhouse, at least according to my nose.  Blood, piss, and feces everywhere.  Smeared on the walls and floors, even bloody handprints on the ceilings.  It was deadly silent, save for the sounds of our careful footsteps and the beating heartbeats of Gina, Stacia, and myself.  The vampires’ hearts were almost silent, even to my uber-hearing.  Just an occasional thump, about one per minute or so.

Gina was scared, her fear scenting the air around us, which could have been a real problem.  Vampires and weres get excited by the scent of fear, their inner predators rising to the prospect of prey.  Somehow, I knew that fact without having any memory of learning it.

But this group became protective rather than predatory.  Gina was one of theirs, and her fear made them angry.  They pushed her into the middle of the group, behind Tanya—who was behind me—and followed by Lydia, then Nika. Even Stacia, who had taken the rearmost position, kept a close eye on her, which seemed odd until I remembered Stacia’s tale of becoming a were.  Gina had been there when she met the New York pack and had smoothed over those oh-so-important introductions.

As we moved deeper into the building, I let my senses expand, feeling rather than seeing.   I felt a pull, downward, toward the basement, so naturally I went up, to the top floor.  The stairwell bore testimony to a running battle, the sheetrock smashed in many places and various makeshift weapons lying about.  An empty fire extinguisher lay on the first landing, one corner of its base crusted with blood.  A broken kitchen knife and a red-stained shard of railing bannister occupied two of the steps leading to the second floor.

Blood smears on the floor and boot prints in the dust showed where the cops had hauled away bodies, rushing to complete the job without regard for crime scene procedure or evidence collection.  Terror scented the air along with an undertone of rage.

Demons are like people in that no two are the same.  Sure, they share common traits, like an insatiable appetite for fear, despair, and terror, but they have distinct personalities.  The one that came for me from the basement was aggressive, hopped up on its recent successes with both the building tenants and driving off the cops and EMS personnel.  It came from behind, rushing up the stairs from below.  I felt its approach long before it got there, long enough to turn and move myself to the back of the line, which, with my absurd speed, took no time at all.  It was projecting evil, using the essence of its own nature as a weapon.

Behind me, I heard Stacia catch her breath, just for a second, while Gina’s heart rate went high enough to be in danger of seizing up completely.  I heard Lydia’s soft voice reassure her human friend but kept my attention focused on the incoming Hellspawn.  Invisible to human eyes, the greasy blob of blackness came swarming up from below, riding an overpowering wave of vile, evil soul rot—which slammed to a halt as it hit my left hand and stuck like a fly on a spider’s web.  Shrieking angrily, it tried to pull itself free while simultaneously pulling projectiles from the floor and throwing them at me.  The extinguisher and knife launched themselves, but both were grabbed in midflight, snagged by the supernaturally quick reflexes of the were girl and telepathic vampire immediately behind me.

That was all the time it got because I tossed it up and called for Kirby.  The reassuring otherworldly bulk of God’s holy raptor flashed into existence, plucking the lump of hellspew from the air and disappearing.

Standing there, breathing the rotten-egg stench of demon, I smiled, absurdly happy at the familiar sighting of the Collector of lost demons.  I smiled at the stunned group of women around me.

“How fucked up is it that I finally feel like something is right in my life?  That the sight of a supernatural ghost bird makes me feel like I’m back from the shadowlands?”

My voice, spoken at normal tones, made Gina jump, just a little.  But my words reached her inner psychologist.   “You’re doing something that you remember well, as unholy strange as it is.  It’s completely familiar to you.  Feeling good about it is normal.  It’s the fact that you’ve been doing it your whole life that’s fucked up,” Gina said.

The others gaped at her like she’d grown tentacles out her ears.  “You swore!” Lydia said, completely shocked.  “You never swear!”

Gina’s expression was mild exasperation.  She wiped a sheen of sweat from her brow and glanced nervously around.  “There are times, Lydia, when a good, healthy f-bomb is not only appropriate but damn near mandatory.”

They all chuckled, but their laughs were soft, the atmosphere still feeling like a hostile warzone.

I opened my senses back up, probing the building around me with techniques I had been using since middle school.  The pull toward the basement was still there, but something also waited above.

Pausing at each floor to feel things out, I kept us climbing till we reached the top of the building.  A sense of foreboding and doom crept up on my little group, increasing the higher we went.  Like suspenseful music in a horror flick.  Gina’s fear had increased and Nika acted uncomfortable.  Stacia was afraid but controlling it.  She smelled increasingly of wolf, and she growled softly to herself as she continued to check behind us.

“Think how hard this would be without those nifty necklaces,” I said in a normal voice, making almost everyone jump.  They all glared at me. “What?  You think they can’t hear whispers?  Besides, I want it to come to me.  That’s always easier than chasing them down.”

“You’re actually comfortable with this, aren’t you?” Lydia asked, amazed and slightly pissed off by my attitude.

“Yeah, I guess I am.  It’s the first thing that makes sense to me.  The first situation where I actually understand what’s going on.”

“Are we really going to have to hunt this thing down?” Stacia asked, her attention on the area behind us.  She was doing an excellent job of rear guard, something most people suck at.  The average human wants to see what’s in front, where they’re headed.  But a good tail-end Charlie needs to keep all their attention on the vulnerable space behind their group.  I guess having an Army ranger for a father added a whole different layer of childhood skills.

Wait, how did I know her father was a ranger?  It was just a little piece of information that popped up.

We were now on the top floor, walking down the hallway toward the last apartment.

“Chris?  I asked you a question?”

“He’s just had a memory flash,” Nika said.

“Stop that,” I said to the mind reader.  “And no, Stacia, we won’t need to hunt it down.”

“Why not, Christian?” Tanya asked, her voice wrapping itself around my name. “Can it not hear our conversation?  Won’t it understand our plan?”

“Ah, well, yeah.  But you see, demons are like sharks.  Once a shark gets a snoutful of blood scent, it almost can’t stop itself.  That’s why fishermen use chum.”

“But what do demons scent?” Tanya asked.

“Fear.  They can’t stay away from fear,” I said, slowing my approach to the last apartment on the right.  Something was stirring behind the partially open door.  A wave of hopelessness rolled over my little group.  Gina sucked in a sharp breath, her heartbeat pounding loudly in her chest.  Tanya, Lydia, Nika, and Stacia all glanced at Gina, then me.  I nodded.  “It can’t stay away from her terror.”

The apartment door slammed open and a horror show face of fang, rotten flesh, and burning eyes flashed out into the hallway and turned, screaming, at us.

Only really well fed or naturally strong demons can manage a visible display like that.  It froze up the little group behind me, which was part of its desired effect. But it didn’t bother me; no, it just felt like old times.  Familiar ground.  What wasn’t familiar was the speed at which I moved down the hall and right into its midst.  Unfamiliar but very welcome.  The squishy sack of demon goo never had a chance.  It was in the middle of a blood-curdling scream when I shoved my left arm into its face and swirled it around like a paper funnel in a cotton candy machine.  The mess of black sputum that wrapped tightly about my arm smelled of brimstone and rot.  Horrid stuff, but it made me smile like a kid at the county fair.  My hand went up, Kirby flashed by and snagged the pile of hell crap, giant wings flapped, and then the God Raptor was gone.

I dusted off my hands and smiled at the little group of shocked females standing openmouthed in the hall.   I was thinking a snack might go good, but then I noticed the pull downward was still present and I stopped in mid-smile.

“What?” Tanya asked.

“There is still something going on in the basement.”

The bottom-most level of the building took the horror movie vibe to a new level.  From what the Commissioner had told us, it had started here.  I could believe it.

Blood, lots of blood, along with several body parts that the cops had missed in their rush to get out of the demon-infested building.  Someone’s right hand, hacked off at the wrist, was lying on the broken kitchen table in the one and only apartment, and an ear, or at least most of an ear, was on the bedside table in the single bedroom. It was sitting next to the bed like it was the last thing to take off before bedtime.

I noticed all that, but my focus was centered on the wall at the head of the bed and the grapefruit-sized hole that appeared to look directly into outer space.

Its outlines weren’t even or symmetrical, but rather jagged and irregular, and closer inspection showed it wasn’t a peephole into the galaxy but rather one that looked into a swirling, greasy blackness that smelled of sulfur and felt like the end of all things. Things moved under the cloak of black, things that sent shudders down my spine. In other words, it looked into Hell.

The others crowded around me, studying the deceptively small opening.

“That’s tiny compared to the one in Asheville,” Stacia noted.  “Maybe that’s why only a few demons got through?” she directed at me.

I shrugged.  It might have only been a day ago, but I might as well have never been there for all the memory I had of it. For all intents, this was my first time seeing one. The God Tear hanging around my neck warmed noticeably as I looked at the breach in our reality.

“Can you close it?” Tanya asked after giving Stacia an annoyed glance.

I opened my mouth to answer no, then shut it with a snap.  I did know how to close it.  The technique was just sort of sitting there in my mind, laid out like clean clothes on a bedspread.

Moving closer, I touched the edge of the hole with my right hand and sent a stream of aura around the opening. My own eyes widened involuntarily at the strength of the aura flow that poured effortlessly from my fingers.  The God Tear on my chest warmed again.

What the hell had I been up to for the last two years?

When the irregular opening was cleanly outlined in purple, I switched hands, my left now beginning to draw the ropey tendril of power like a drawstring.  The edges of the hole first smoothed out, then began to shrink.  From grapefruit to baseball to fifty-cent piece.  The blackness bulged suddenly, pressing out of the opening in some horrific parody of a child blowing a black gum bubble.  The bubble popped and a scaly tentacle shot out, wrapping around my fingers and constricting tight.  I jumped but didn’t let go or stop drawing the circle shut, even as I felt a burning pain in my hand.  Acrid fumes rose off my hand as whatever hell acid the tentacle was excreting began to eat away my flesh.  Intense pain shot up my arm, but instead of making me let go, it spurred me to yank the rest of the aura rope into me and iris the hole shut with a sharp camera-shutter snap.  The demon tentacle was severed and I yanked it off, throwing it down on the crumpled pillow directly under where the hole had been.

The pillow began to smoke but stopped as the hellish flesh melted into stinky green goo.

Tanya grabbed my arm and towed me to the kitchen, where she shoved my hand under the faucet and liberally doused it with cold water.  After a couple of minutes, the burning stopped and I got brave enough to inspect my fingers.  The flesh had been eaten away, but as I watched, the ravaged flesh began to knit itself back together.  Within moments, the angry wounds were fleshed over and merely red.  By the time the two of us had walked back to the bedroom, it was completely healed.  Tanya just patted my arm and smiled at my amazement before turning to the others.  Gina was standing back, watching avidly but cautiously as the other three pressed and probed the wall where the hole had been.

“Something’s been carved into the sheetrock,” Lydia noted, both hands feeling the wall as she kneeled on the bed.

“There’s other carvings over here,” Stacia added from her position two feet to Lydia’s right and leaning over the ear-covered bed table to trace one hand across the wall.

“I see pentagrams and some runes, but they look poorly drawn.  Like bad copies,” Lydia commented.

“Yeah, the hole was right in the middle of this pentagram, but you’re right.  It looks like a child drew it.”

“Some witch wannabe?” Nika asked, leaning close to the wall but keeping both arms crossed in front of her.

“The big hole in Asheville was caused by a witch’s grimoire.  Maybe someone triggered another here by practicing witchcraft?” Stacia wondered.

“It was the size of the wall?” Nika asked.

“Yeah.  The things that came through were… tough,” Stacia said, shuddering slightly.

“Let’s get out of here,” Gina suggested.  “I, for one, would like some fresh air.”

“Agreed,” Tanya said, turning me toward the door.  We headed back to up to the first floor although Lydia hung back a bit, still checking things out, finally catching up as we approached the front door.  I glanced at her, wondering why she would hang back.

She must have read my expression.  “We’re vampires.  We don’t run out of haunted buildings.  There’s a reputation to keep up.”

I laughed, caught off guard by the mini-vampire who could pass for Tinkerbell’s dark twin.

Chapter 29

We pulled our hazard suits back on and tromped back outside.  I left my helmet off, while the ladies kept theirs on.  It would be too weird if any media got pictures of me with a half-dozen model look-alikes.

We marched over to the van we had arrived in, the Commissioner and a small posse of police brass waiting impatiently for us. Standing just behind the Commissioner were two suits, both large, one with a really bad combover.  They both tensed as I approached, faces hostile and tight.

“It’s clear,” I told him.  The six women started to strip off their suits, but this time, they had about seven eager helpers instead of two.  Nobody helped me.

“You’re sure it’s safe?” Rielly asked me.  The Cardinal, now wearing a nice suit and tie, appeared from the group of brass and leaned close to listen.  I directed my comments to both of them.

“There were two demons and a rift or hole that seemed to be their point of origin.  I got rid of both of them and shut the hole.  The building’s a mess, though.  I can’t tell you if anything else came through and left the building before we got here.”

“What do you mean by anything else?” Rielly asked me.

“If someone in the building was particularly weak or depressed and despondent, their soul could be pushed out entirely.  Just a shell with a demon inside.  Hellbourne.  Mobile chaos.”

“Great!” he said. “How do we know?”

“Check the building's residents.  See if anyone is missing,” I said.

Commissioner Rielly turned and nodded to another high-ranking officer, who made a sharp hand gesture to a waiting squad of cops. The team immediately moved into the apartment building with more cops following.

“Mr. Gordon, I’ve been talking to some of my people—ones that already know about you—and I think you and I should talk,” Cardinal Kellan said.

“That’s probably a good idea, Cardinal, but Chris has had a really long, tiring day.  Why don’t you have your people call mine and we’ll see what we can arrange,” Tanya said, suddenly by my side.

The Cardinal accepted the business card she handed him, a surprised look on his face.  He looked around as if to figure out how she had appeared like that, his surprise turning to a frown as an apparent answer occurred to him.  I heard his heart rate almost double at the same time.

“T-that would be fine,” he stuttered briefly.  “I’ll do just that,” he finished, his voice firmer as he regained himself.

“Gordon, I want to thank you for taking care of this for me,” Rielly said.

“I didn’t do it for you.  In fact, I don’t like you much,” I replied evenly.  The big guys behind him moved forward a step.

Rielly’s expression became closed and guarded. “I’d be careful there, Gordon.  I’m a much better friend than an enemy.  You don’t want me as an enemy.”

I slid forward fast.  Leaned in close so I was in his face.  “Is that what we are?  Enemies?  I hadn’t gotten there yet, but it’s a short trip.  But the thing is, you’ve got so very much to lose and I, well, I have already lost enough to make the rest hardly worthwhile.  So let me know if you want to do that enemy thing full on, Rielly.”

The thing others called Grim was peeking out of my eyes as I delivered my quiet message, and his glance took in the two muscleheads behind the Commissioner.  I must have known them because they sure knew me—only now, they were nervous, really nervous.  Rielly paled as he got a glimpse of my dark side.

Officers manning radios interrupted us to report, which created enough distraction for us to withdraw, although Rielly kept his eyes on me as we moved away.

“Maybe a cop will drive us home… wherever that is?” I suggested.

“Don’t be silly.  Arkady is here with the limo,” Lydia said.

Limo?  They traveled by limo?

Sure enough, a huge Mercedes limo was parked as close to the police tape as you could get.  The giant from the parking garage was standing outside it, ignoring the stares he was getting from the curious onlookers.

“Stacia, why don’t you get out at my place?  I think Afina mentioned that she and Brock were attending a function near my house.  You could meet up with them and their security team.”

“Oh, I’m not sure we have enough room in the limo for everyone,” Lydia said suddenly and blatantly.

I stopped dead in my tracks.  I had heard far more than my quota of words like that delivered in just that tone in my high school years.  And my memories of high school were about all I had left.

“Then you all go on.  Stacia and I can catch a cab,” I said, frowning at the small vampire.  Awasos woofed at me.  “And 'Sos.”

Caught off guard by my response, she started to speak but stopped at Nika’s light touch on her arm.  A light touch on my arm brought me around to the blue-eyed vampire who had stayed within a foot of me for most of the evening.  “Lydia’s wrong.  There is plenty of room in the limo,” Tanya said to me, with a nod at Stacia.

“Okay then.”

We piled into the giant car, finding enough room for ten people and a wolf-bear.  Lydia was frowning, obviously in thought about what had occurred, her eyes glancing my way when I wasn’t watching.

I ended up in the forward-facing passenger seat with Tanya on one side and Nika on the other.  I felt weird, like this was supposed to be normal for me, but it wasn’t, not even a little bit.  My stomach rumbled and Tanya spoke, in a quiet voice, directing her words to the driver and Arkady in the front.  “We need to grab some takeout for Chris.”

“I’ve already ordered a sub platter from one of our delis, Young Queen,” Arkady rumbled back.

Young queen?  Our delis? I knew the Coven was immensely wealthy, but it was just a vague concept.  Now, seeing and hearing example after example, it made me wonder just how much money did they have?

Beside me, Nika stirred, and it occurred to me that she was reading my mind… had been reading my mind all night.  The image of a violet face-masked helmet popped into my head and I pictured it sliding over my noggin.

Nika jumped slightly and turned to look at me, a flash of hurt crossing her face.

“What?  What happened?” Lydia asked.

“He blocked me.  You hardly ever block me from your mind,” the blonde vampire said to me, shocked.

“I don’t have much mind left.  I have to protect what I have,” I said, feeling oddly like I had wronged her.  Screw that!  I shouldn’t have to justify defending my own mind from invasion.

“Never had much to start with,” Lydia said softly.

“What did I do to you?  What, in my previous life, did I do that you constantly feel the need to snipe at me?” I asked the spike-haired vampire.

I expected an explosion of anger.  What I got was an eruption of tears.  She didn’t say a word, but her eyes filled with water and she turned away from me completely.

“Christian, that’s enough!” Tanya said.

“No, I’ve had enough,” I said, knowing I was somehow over-reacting but unable to stop myself.

“I have no idea where we are going.  I don’t know where I live; hell, I don’t even know my PIN number for my ATM card or what any of my online passwords are.  Do we even use passwords anymore?”

They were all staring at me like I had five heads—except Gina, who looked concerned.

“Let me out.  Let me out of the car!” I said, suddenly needing to be moving on my own feet.

The driver looked in the rearview, his gaze questioning Tanya, who gave a tiny shake of her head.  It sent me over the edge.

Grabbing the headrest behind my head with both hands, I jackknifed my body, bringing both feet up against the rear window—hard.  The armored glass resisted breaking, but the frame that held it failed to resist my kick.  The whole window popped out, and my legs followed it.  I folded myself out the back window, my knees on the trunk.  Somehow, I stayed there, momentarily fastened in place by something I could feel but couldn’t name. The car hit a bump, but my feet didn’t even slide.  Standing up, I flipped sideways off the now-braking car, landing on my feet by the side of the road and startling a homeless guy who was crouched against the wall of a steel-shuttered video game store.

Red tail lights flaring, the limo stopped and the window opened.  Tanya was halfway out the rear window, following me, when Gina spoke from the car.

“Chris?  Why don’t you come back inside and we’ll talk this out?”

I shook my head, beginning to walk in the same direction the car was headed.

“You sure? I would love to tell you about your goddaughter,” she said.

My whole body snapped around to face her.  Goddaughter?  I had a goddaughter?

Chapter 30

Bait, bribery, enticement—it doesn’t matter what you call it. I responded like a fish to a worm.  I had a goddaughter!

Back in the car, the popped-out window taking up space on an empty seat, we were again on the move.  Gina’s phone was in my hand, a picture showing me with a beautiful little brown-eyed, brunette mini-clone of Gina riding on my shoulders.  We were both laughing and she was holding my ears like a horse’s reins.  Toni—her name was Toni, short for Antonia.

“Let’s talk a minute while you look through those photos.  Then I’ll tell you about her,” Gina said, laying out her terms.

I nodded but kept my attention on the photos I was scrolling through.

“We—whether we’re human, vampire, or were—are mostly the products of our experiences.  From the moment of birth, who we are is being shaped by interactions with life.  Memories are what we carry forward from those experiences,” Gina began, speaking to everyone in the car, even the two in the front driver’s compartment.

“When we lose those memories, we lose part of what makes up our personalities.  Chris has lost roughly the two most recent years of his life.  They’re just gone.  What he gets back of them, I can’t tell you, if he gets anything back at all.  But for now, his life has been rewound to before he met any of us.  Put yourselves in his shoes.  He just suddenly found himself in unknown woods with a mysterious body and a bunch of people he didn’t know. Then he finds out that vampires and werewolves are real and that he’s been part of their world for two years, none of which he can remember.  Now, he comes back here and everything that’s happened to him might as well of happened to someone else.  He’s meeting all of us for the first time, no matter what we know about him.”

“That actually makes it really a lot worse—all the stuff you all know about me.  It completely weirds me out,” I added.

“So, Lydia, he doesn’t know that you two have a history of picking on each other like brother and sister.  Nika, he has no idea how valuable your reading his mind has been from the moment of his introduction to vampire life.  His re-introduction is happening now.  Tanya, the bond you share will be a major help, but he has lost everything the two of you have had.  None of it is there,” Gina continued.

“What about Grim?” Arkady asked in his thick accent.

“Good question.  How is Grim?” Gina asked me.

“The dark thing inside me?  He’s there,” I said, unsure of how to respond.

“I think when Chris got shot, Grim moved his head slightly, avoiding a direct center of skull hit,” Stacia said.  “Because his head came up when we stepped outside, like it does when Grim is out, and after the shot, he just bounced up from the ground and ran down the sniper, faster than I could follow. That asshat got off two more shots, but they were complete misses. He came back out, Grim that is, earlier today when we were attacked on the bridge.  Drove off a full circle of witches with a handful of quarters.”

“I had some flashes of memories when he was out,” I said.  “Really short, but vivid.”

“What were they about?” Gina asked.

“Tanya,” I said, glancing her way.  Her face lit up in a million-candlepower smile at my admission.  Uncomfortable, I went back to the pictures that showed the little girl I wanted to meet.

“That’s really good.  Really, really good.  Maybe Grim has some of your memories stored elsewhere in your brain.  Like a duplicate computer file.  You may get more when he comes out,” Gina said.  “But here’s the point, everybody.  You can’t rely on how things were before.  You have to help him reforge new relationships with all of you—and everyone else.  He may not react the same way as he did before.”

“What do you mean?” Lydia asked.

“A lot of factors impact how we react to every encounter we have.  Mood, health, degree of mental preoccupation, amount of sleep we’ve had; the list just goes on.  So meeting someone for a second time with the slate wiped clean could mean an entirely different outcome.”

“You’re saying that someone he liked before, he might hate now?”

“That might be extreme, but yeah, he will be forming new first impressions.  And under different conditions.  That little offhand display of superhuman athleticism we just saw was done without much forethought. Am I right, Chris?”

I nodded. My actions had all been instinct.  I had needed to get out and my body just took the most logical path.

“So his control of his strength, speed, agility is ingrained a level below conscious thought.  When he was introduced to the supernatural world before, it was pre Super Chris.  He had to learn to control all his abilities.  He doesn’t appear to have that need this time.  So as he re-meets people from his earlier life, he’ll be doing it at his current level of ability.  That’s gonna change how he views things and people.”

“I want to go home,” I said.  I meant home as in my hometown, the farm where I grew up.  It was a sudden, intense thought, but it felt right.

“Home’s coming here, Christian,” Tanya said.  Again, her voice distracted me from her words, but after a moment, they sunk in.  She understood my reference to home and suddenly I figured out hers.

“Huh?  Gramps?  My grandfather is coming here?” I guessed.

“I called him yesterday after Katrina told me about your… injury,” she said. “He was going to drive down today, but I sent a helicopter to get him.  He will be here, in the city, in… oh… about a half hour.”

“Where will he stay?  Where do I stay, for that matter?” I asked, shocked at this turn of events.

“You usually stay with me, in the heart of the Coven, in Citadel,” she said, then noticed my frown.  “We’ll explain Citadel to you later.  Your grandfather will stay in one of our hotels, and you and I can stay there, too. Right, Lydia?”

“Yeah. We have the Presidential Suite at the Murray on the Upper East side. Deckert and a couple of his guys will meet your grandfather at the heliport and bring him directly to the hotel.”

“Deckert?” I asked.

“He’s the head of our daytime security, all of which are humans.  Ex-soldier types.  Deckert is a Marine, so your grandfather ought to get along with him,” Lydia explained with a subdued smile.

“Thank you, Lydia,” I said.  “I’m sorry I yelled at you before.  It’s just very frustrating.”

Lydia just nodded and smiled, then got busy with her iPad.

Remembering how I had also yelled at Nika, I went ahead and dissolved the mental image of the faceplate helmet.  From the corner of my eye, I saw her head jerk just a little as my barriers fell.  If only I could read minds, then I might understand everything going on around me.

“Or be more confused.  It’s not easy; people’s minds jump around a lot more than you might think,” she answered.  I looked around to see how the others would handle her seemingly random comment, but their expressions seemed to indicate that they had figured it out instantly.  Good lord, what was I doing in the middle of so many perceptive women?

Nika laughed.  “It takes all of us to keep you straightened out!”

“So, want to hear about Toni?” Gina asked.

I nodded, not sure why I was so excited about this idea of a goddaughter but excited nonetheless.

“She’s seven, going on seventeen,” Gina started.

“More like twenty-seven,” Lydia interjected.

“Quiet, you!  Now where was I… oh yeah.  She’s into fashion, soccer, which she tried in gym class, and rats.”

“Rats?” I asked.  “Is she a tomgirl?”

“No, she’s very much a girly-girl, but a tough one.  She has a pet rat that you gave her two years ago.  Named Sebastian.”

“I gave her a rat?  Why would I do that?”

“I’ve asked myself that very question, but it’s a long story and there was some logic to it, albeit twisted logic,” Gina answered.

“And she liked it?  The rat?”

“Toni likes almost anything that comes from her godfather,” she said with a smile.  “You rank pretty high up on her important people list.”

It seemed odd that I was so excited about being a godfather, but as I examined the concept, I realized that having a connection to children wasn’t something I had ever expected.  I never figured on having a girlfriend, let alone a family, so children were out.  At the same time, children were often my clients, so to speak; children were a favorite target of demons.  So I had interacted with quite a few kids under stressful conditions, and I like to think I handled it well.  Having my own surrogate daughter stand-in was both scary and fascinating.

“Hmmpf.  She likes me too, ya know,” Tanya said, staring at Gina.

“Yes, she does. Very much,” Gina assured her.

“So you’re like, what? Her vampire godmother?  That sounds like a pretty twisted fairy tale.  This kid is gonna grow up with a morbid personality, ya know, like an Adams family kid,” I said, only three-quarters joking.

“No, Chris, she’s gonna grow up and probably decide to rule the world and all of us with it!” Lydia said with feeling.   This little Toni must be a real handful.

“Just you wait, Christian, just you wait,” Tanya said, reading me almost as well as her blonde mind-reading companion could.

Chapter 31

Gina warned me that Toni would be asleep when we dropped her and Stacia off, but a beautiful little girl in Finding Nemo pajamas waited next to a big bear of a man who was obviously her father.  Toni looked older than I had imagined, maybe because of how she held herself.

Gina greeted them both with a hug and a kiss, but before she could do more than that, her daughter had slipped around her and zipped straight over to me.

“Hi, Mr. Chris.  Do you remember me?  My mom says you hit your head; did it hurt?”

I had a momentary flash of awareness, my senses expanding way beyond their normal sensitivity.  The rooftops and upper floor windows above us came into ridiculous clarity and sounds, echoing around the street, painted a picture of my immediate environment.  I felt my dark half peer out of my eyes, checking for threats and dangers and realized it was a reaction triggered by the vulnerable little girl in front of me.  A memory flashed through my head of me holding a younger Toni’s hand as we walked down this very street on a sunny morning, maybe to school or something.

“I do remember you, Toni, at least a bit,” I answered, keeping my attention on her but noticing the people around me react.  I squatted down to her level.

“How about my necklace?  Do you remember this?” she asked, holding a small, shiny bear pendant up for my inspection.  It glowed purple to my Sight, packed with aura.  The sensation of almost remembering something hovered powerfully in my mind, but I just couldn’t quite grasp it.  “Sorta, but I can’t get it straight,” I told her, frustrated with my inability to pull it out.

“You made it for me, Mr. Chris.  Its name is Okwari!”

That triggered another memory, this time of dead leaves swirling up in a dust devil tornado and a pair of glowing red eyes, high off the ground.

A big furry head pushed under my arm, and a wet wolf nose snuffled the little girl’s hair and ear, making her giggle.  She launched herself at the beast and wrapped both arms as far around Awasos’s thick neck as she could manage.

“Okay, munchkin. It’s well past your bedtime.  You’ve seen ‘Sos and Mr. Chris, and he does remember you, although how anyone could forget you is crazy!” her father said, giving her a moment to untangle herself before swooping and scooping her up.  He leaned her over close to my face and she planted a big kiss on my cheek.

“Thanks, Toni and thank you, Roy,” I said.  Then I paused.  How did I know his name?  Where had that come from?

Oblivious to my sudden hesitation, Toni was urging her father over to Tanya, where she planted another cheek smooch.  I noticed that Tanya stood absolutely still during the process, as if afraid to move.  I got a flash of something, either insight or something from this bond we had.  She was fascinated by Toni, but uncertain of how to act and what exactly to do.  Which I decided would make sense.  There were no children among the Coven.  Toni was likely the only child she actually knew.

Roy took his daughter off to bedtime, the little actress leaning over his shoulder with arms out in my direction, pretending sorrow at our parting.  I automatically held my arms out in a matching gesture and pretended the same.  She started giggling.

Turning back to the others, I saw Tanya with her held tilted as she processed the little scene we had just acted.  It was alien to her, but interesting.  The others all understood, having been human once.

“She triggered some memories,” Nika stated to me.

“Just flashes, but yeah.  And I remembered your husband’s name somehow,” I said, glancing at Gina.

“It’s only been a day and you’re already getting some things back.  Give it time, Chris,” Gina said.  “Now, goodnight all.  I’m going to go tuck my daughter into bed.”

Gina left and Stacia turned to follow her into the house.  “Thanks, Stacia.  For… you know… bringing me back and stuff,” I said awkwardly.  The vampires were watching silently, but I wasn’t going to let her leave without saying something.

“Anytime, Chris. Anytime,” she said, ignoring the icy stares of the others and giving me a bright smile as she trailed Gina.

I turned to the limo, doing my own best at ignoring the vampire women.  I waited for some kind of comment as I settled into the plush leather, but they were all silent.  I could feel Tanya wanting to ask several questions, so I wasn’t shocked when she opened her mouth, but the subject matter surprised me a bit.

“How do you know how to interact with her when you barely remember her?”

I had no idea how to answer until I realized she was talking about Toni and not Stacia.

“I’ve had a lot of cases that involve children, so I have some experience.  They’re just little people without all the baggage that adults come with.  They don’t usually have prejudices or hidden agendas, so it’s easier to be around them.”

“Oh, they have agendas alright. It just usually involves candy, toys, or other simple objectives,” Lydia said.

“That’s true,” I agreed, happy for a reprieve from discussing the werewolf girl.

Chapter 32

The Murray Hotel on the Upper East Side was a very old hotel that had been very thoroughly modernized.  Beautifully decorated in a slightly understated way.  Modern art mixed with ancient antiques, finished with current high quality décor, and equipped with state-of-the-art technology.

'Sos’s claws clicked on the marble floor in the lobby, which made me wince but had no discernible effect on any of the staff.  They simply smiled politely as we approached.  Then they caught sight of Tanya, and every one of them straightened perceptibly.  There were only humans in the lobby—staff and a few guests—so at first, I thought it was some buried instinct alerting them to the presence of predators.  But the more I observed, the more I realized it was an employee hyperaware of the Big Boss sort of thing.

Tanya didn’t appear to notice it, instead looking the room over with a critical eye, while Lydia skipped over to the front desk and spoke to the reservation clerk.

“Demidova, Presidential Suite?” she asked with a smile.

The young lady behind the counter nodded, smiled nervously, and produced a package of room cards.  A slim, overly groomed man in an expensive suit appeared from the back office, smoothing his jacket as he swooped in to oversee.  The nametag on his chest indicated his last name was Deverson and that he was the manager.

“Everything in order, Lisa?” he asked the desk clerk, but his eyes flicked from Lydia to Tanya, who was standing, head tilted, studying a painting on one wall.  Awasos click-clacked over to her and shoved his head under her hand.

A matronly looking woman with a carefully preserved face and hair that wouldn’t move in a gale force wind sat in the lobby lounge area and looked in shock at the giant wolf.  Obviously a guest and, from the look of her, obscenely wealthy.

“Yes, Mr. Deverson.  Miss Demidova’s party is all set.  Your other guest has already arrived and is up in the suite,” the desk clerk said to Lydia.

“An older man, named Gordon?” I asked from my spot near Tanya.

Tanya’s attention immediately shifted from the painting to the staff, awaiting an answer to my question.  The manager went blank when faced with her full attention, but Lisa answered me directly, with a quick glance at Tanya.  “Yes, sir.  He arrived about fifteen minutes ago.”

“Thank you,” I told her, my thoughts already on the old man upstairs.  Tanya was now watching me and she grabbed my hand, smiling, and pulled me in the direction of the elevators. Two bellhops leaped forward to take the small amount of luggage that we had with us.  The security vampire who was carrying it just glared at the unfortunate bellhops and they stepped away, uncertain.  Arkady ignored them, instead moving to call the elevator.  A chime sounded, announcing an arriving car, and when the doors opened, Tanya, Lydia, Arkady, Awasos, myself, Nika, and the luggage-carrying security vamp piled in, leaving the wide-eyed staff and slightly appalled guest lady behind.

The doors slid open on the eighth and top floor into an opulently appointed foyer leading to a wide, heavy door with a plaque next to it that announced it was the Presidential suite.  Music was coming from behind the door—piano music.

Lydia used a cardkey to unlock the door, and Arkady ghosted through it to check the place out.  The piano music cut off as we followed the giant vampire into a suite that was larger than many homes.  It must have occupied most of the top floor, with multiple bedrooms, bathrooms, a full kitchen, dining room, library, and living room.  The piano I had heard was a Baby Grand, and it was in one corner of the living room.  My grandfather was sitting at it and turned to watch us enter.

I had been preparing myself for him to look older than I remembered.  He looked younger.  Not extraordinarily so, but younger than my best memories recalled.  Fit and blooming with health.  My mental image showed a tough, weathered man with plenty of years left, but fighting a certain fatigue.  The Gramps in front of me was bright-eyed and snapping with energy.

I was puzzled, but kept my face straight as I hugged my only surviving family member, automatically adjusting the power of my hug for human level.  Gina was right: I was aware of my abilities on an unconscious level.

The hug I got back was football-team vigorous; my feet left the ground briefly before he pushed me back to arm's-length to look me over.

“You look pretty good for being head shot.  Feels like I’m hugging steel,” he said, completely at ease with a room full of vampires.  He was wearing clean jeans and a button-down, checked shirt; pretty much high fashion for him.

“Well, I feel pretty good, other than not knowing anyone or anything!  Except you,” I said, pulling him back into the hug.  He patted my back a couple of times then stopped, which was Gramps code for things are getting awkward.

I was having trouble reconciling my memories with the actual man in front of me, which made me doubt myself till I noticed Tanya checking him over.  She hugged him immediately after I did, her affection for him obvious.  Lydia was next, and as the little vamp laughed with him, I saw Tanya study him from head to toe, a look of self-satisfaction plastered on her face.  She looked at me and winked.  Still puzzled, I watched Gramps get reintroduced to Nika, Arkady, and the other vamp, whose name was Trenton.

There was a knock on the suite door and Trenton flashed out of the room to answer it, coming back a moment later with a push cart of food.

“I told the staff to send up enough food for all of us, which translates into just enough for Chris and 'Sos, with maybe a snack for you, Alex,” Lydia said to us, directing her last comment to Gramps.

Suddenly, I was starving.  The hunger had been a dull ache in my stomach that I managed to ignore in light of all the new things (that were apparently second nature to my old self) I was learning and the new people I was meeting.  But now it roared into the center of my awareness and I found my feet moving me in a straight line for the food cart.  Awasos arrowed in the same direction, and we arrived together.

I started pulling dish covers and reading the list of food that accompanied the cart, ignoring the amused stares of the others.

“Beef wellington. That’s mine, dude,” I told the eager wolf by my side. “Alaskan King Salmon. Oh, that’s yours.”  I put the plate on the ground as he shimmered and expanded to his bear form in anticipation of salmon.  “Vermont chicken, mine.  Rare New York strip steak… hmm, yours, I guess.  Vietnamese seafood salad—that goes to Gramps,” I said pulling the plate away from the big black nose that was trying to inhale it right off the china. Gramps jumped forward and took the plate from my outstretched hand as my attention was back on the food and my furry competition.  “Hey, you already scarfed the whole salmon. The Maine crab is mine.”

I was half right as my struggle to secure the plate launched part of the crab dish into the air.  It never hit ground, instead sliding down the bucket-sized gullet of my bear.  “All right, you’re up one and a half to my none, so why don’t you park your furry ass right here and we’ll get this figured out.”

It was a struggle that I was destined to lose, but part of me seemed to understand that and plan for it.  I ended up with three good entrees and a tureen of winter squash soup.  He got the rest, including half the cheesecake, but Gramps and I each got a slice, so it wasn’t a complete loss.

I was stuffed halfway through the soup and put the rest down for 'Sos, whose bear form had an unfair advantage in stomach size.  As I did, I noticed the five-gallon plastic bucket of saltwater sitting in the corner of the room.  One of the vampires must have brought it up with the remaining luggage.

Stuffing one last bite of cheesecake in my mouth, I went over to the plastic bucket and pried off the lid.

As I peered over the side, the three vampire women were just there, arriving in a swirl of mixed scents and disturbed air.  Lilac and Jasmine mixed with rose and musk interwoven with something more commercial that had vaguely apple-like undertones.  I arched one eyebrow at Nika.

“Dolce and Gabbana Light Blue.  I’m trying new ones to see what I like.”

Gramps arrived to see what was in the bucket that had drawn all our attention.

Sloshing around the bottom of the plain white pail was a ziplock plastic bag with a pale, tannish book inside.

“Stacia told me that it is called The Book of Darkest Sorrow, or at least that’s the translation we got.  She was told that much by that Swedish witch mom up in Michigan,” I explained.

“Quinby. Her name is Quinby,” Tanya said.

“Apparently the author was something of a bigshot among German witches several hundred years ago or so.  So the book is chock full of all kinds of mischief and witchy mayhem.  All the modern witches will literally kill to get it,” I said.

“Why is it in a bucket of water?” Gramps asked.

“Saltwater.  Word has it that saltwater blocks the magical radio waves it sends out.  Makes it hard to track.  If we dumped the damn thing in the ocean without the baggie, it would destroy it… eventually.”

“Why not burn it?” Lydia asked.  “God, what a smell? Somebody needs a biscuit for their teeth.”   The last was directed at the big bear head that loomed over her shoulder.  He was big enough on four feet and she was small enough on two that he could lean right over her shoulder to look where we were all looking.  He perked up at the sound of a biscuit and I watched, curious, as Lydia blurred to a big canvas grocery bag near the luggage and retrieved a giant doggy biscuit.

“One of your better ideas… back when you had them,” she said.  The jibe was delivered gently, and she waited to see how I took it.

“You know, there’s been speculation that I hired that vampire myself just to erase my memories of cruel punk vampires,” I replied.  She smiled and nodded as she handed the biscuit into the toothy maw and instant dog biscuit oblivion. “And to answer your question, the book is supposed to be impervious to fire.”

The others were still checking out the book, although Tanya watched our little banter with a small smile.

“So this is sort of some kind of doomsday book?” Gramps asked, puzzled.

“Well, the witch that wrote it was very powerful and it has her darkest secrets, but the Hellgate in Asheville was like a coincidental confluence of events.  The house had stored and built up psychic energy for decades. The spell had been conducted but never finished, so when the book was found, somehow those little were girls triggered it,” I said.

“I’m not sure I buy all that.  I don’t much care for coincidence.  Especially when you add another gate here in the City,” Gramps said, patting his pockets.  I knew what he was looking for.  I couldn’t tell you where the majority of my possessions were or what my password to Facebook was these days, but I knew Gramps was looking for his pipe.  When thoroughly vexed with a problem, he liked to clench it in his teeth even if it wasn’t lit.

“It’s in your jacket pocket… I can smell it from here,” I said, pointing to where his Carhartt lay draped over an expensive armchair.

“You know, the fact that a second gate had formed close to the time of the first one did bother me as well.  What’s going on to create these things?” Lydia asked, watching the old man as he found his pipe, packed it with Captain Black tobacco, and dug out a lighter.  “Whoa there, cowboy. No smoking in these rooms.  We just had this suite renovated,” she said.

He looked guilty for a moment, then a bit rebellious, and finally resigned to just clench the unlit pipe.  Looking at the stern vampire, he opted for a redirection tactic.

“Tanya, when was the last time you fed?” he asked.

I knew his ploy, as I’m sure the others did, but it worked.  We all looked at my beautiful vampire.

“I’ve fed,” she said, defensively.

Both Lydia and Nika laughed.  “You’ve had two units of bagged blood in the last four days.  You haven’t fed properly since Chris had to exit stage left!” Lydia said.

“You’re gonna take care of that… right, boy?” Gramps said, looking at me sternly.

Uh oh!  I knew vampires drank blood, but the whole question of whether my vampire drank from me had been a twitchy little question I had avoided thinking too much about.  It made sense, but I didn’t remember any of my previous life.  Did it hurt?  Was it violent?

“Listen up, whelp,” Gramps said after reading my expression.  “You are the only person that your girl will feed from!  Now, I realize that you don’t remember anything, but from what I know, you like to feed her as much as she likes to eat.  As in it’s something you really, really enjoy!  So you need to get over any little squeamish girly feelings and get her fed or by God, I’ll do it!”

My grandfather is old school to the core, and his respect was one of the most important things in my life.  The fact that he talked to me at times like the former Marine Captain he had been, chewing out a soldier, was, perversely, a point of pride for me.  It didn’t matter that I could juggle refrigerators or hang upside down from the ceiling in my sleep.  He wielded my respect for him like a mother used guilt on her kids.  Not to mention the instant, unreasoning jealousy that flooded me at the thought of the beautiful, azure-eyed vampire's teeth touching anyone else’s skin but mine.

“I’ll take care of it,” I almost growled back before adding a belated, “Sir.”

He looked at me with a level gaze for a moment before turning back to my vampire.  “Just why did Christian have to rush out of town, anyway?”

She grimaced.  “My grandmother, Senka, is a ruthless creature.  She has plans within plans for everything.  Old vampires get like that… constantly plotting and planning, but she takes it to a higher level.  Anyway, she and Tzao decided to fill the third Elder position, and they knew who they wanted for the job.  Trouble is, the Elder positions are theoretically picked by a conclave of very old vampires.  So she needed to influence the outcome.  She used my Christian to do it.  She planted seeds in certain ears and let the attached mouths spread rumors about him.  The candidate, Mausya, took the bait and used it as a campaign for office.  Then Senka manipulated events to cause one of the other candidates to attack my Christian.  That one died, in a rather dreadful manner as he should have, only it truly terrified the older vampires.  Your grandson has the ability, without exerting much effort, to cause an old vampire to realize all their pent-up years at once.  Frimunt died of old age in moments.”

Lydia laughed, “Looked like the Crypt Keeper from that old television show, Tales from the Crypt.”

“I thought Senka liked Chris?” Gramps asked.

“Oh, she loves him,” Tanya said with a casual wave of one arm in my direction.  “But that has nothing to do with using him.  She uses everyone around her.  Me, Lydia, Nika, my mother, everyone.  It’s her nature.  It’s a very vampire thing to do.”

“So how does that stand… the older vampires fear of Chris.  Is that why a vampire shot him?”

Anger flashed across Tanya’s perfect features. “The Conclave has dispersed.  Almost all the old vampires have left.  Mausya and Senka are still here, but both will leave shortly to see Mausya settled as Elder in Europe.  The ones remaining are still afraid of my Chosen but have greater fears at the moment.”

“Yeah, they fear Tanya!” Lydia said.  “She’s been on the warpath since you left, Chris. When you got shot, she challenged and dueled the seven most vocal opponents of your existence… all at once.  Killed all seven in one big brawl.  The funny thing is that now we don’t think that sniper was sent by any other vampires.  We think he was a hired mercenary.”

I studied Tanya, who was carefully not looking at me but was facing my grandfather.  Her beauty was so overwhelming, it was hard to see the dangerous predator underneath.  But if you ignored her feminine curves and instead noted the taut muscles and perfect balance, then a hint of her dangerous potential peeked through.  And she was mine.  I couldn’t remember my life before, yet I looked at her and just knew that we were a matched pair.  Something that went beyond the crazy vampire bond that she had with me.  Her gaze finally moved to meet mine as she felt what I felt.  Then she smiled, somehow both shy and sly at the same time.

“I’m hungry,” she said.

“The lady has spoken," I said to the others as I went to her, letting her draw us into one of the suite's bedrooms.

Chapter 33

It was noon by the time I cracked the door on our bedroom.  Tanya was fast asleep, which I gathered was normal for vampires.  Our night had been… a revelation.  Gramps was right: feeding my vampire was amazing.  The flood of sensation and emotion that had accompanied her bite had been like nothing I had ever experienced… well I had, I just couldn’t remember it.  And sex?  Sex was beyond whatever I had imagined it to be.  Apparently, my body remembered more than I did, as my responses to her had been more certain than they had any right to be.

Gramps was sipping coffee and working his way through a book of crosswords.  Awasos was lying by his feet in bear form like a small couch.

“Hey, kiddo, how do you feel today?”

A shit-eating grin lit up my face and nothing I could do would wipe it away.  “Like that, is it?” he asked with a laugh.

I shrugged, still grinning like an idiot, but my path to the table was sidetracked by the covered plate of food on the counter.  Four empty and tongue-cleaned plates were lined up on the floor underneath it, testimony to my were bear-wolf’s breakfast.

I grabbed the plate, filled a mug with coffee from the carafe on the counter, and moved to the dining table.

Gramps watched me get settled with my oversized plate of eggs, bacon, sausage, pancakes, and hash browns.

“You seem pretty good for a fella that took a .308 round to the head,” he noted as I started shoveling food into my face.

“I guess.  I’d rather have some pain and scars but have my memory back,” I said around a mouthful of sausage.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, boy,” he said automatically.  “Listen, now that the ladies are all down for the day, this is a good chance for us to have a talk.”

I just nodded, choosing to keep the food intake at full steam rather than use any words.

“So I get a phone call yesterday that you’d been shot.  Tanya called me herself, which was good, because if she believed you were physically okay, then I did, too.  I knew she would move heaven and earth if need be.  Then she sent a helicopter for me.” He shook his head as he spoke, like the memory still floored him.  “Damn thing set down right in the north field.  Brett and company were with me when it landed,” he said, then paused at the question in my eyes.  “Oh, right.  You don’t know who I’m talking about, do you?”

I shook my head, still eating.

“Brett Mallek is the Alpha werewolf of a small pack that lives next to us.  You set the whole thing up.  His parents are the Alphas of the New York City Pack, which is the one that your blonde werewolf is part of.  We’ll get back to her in a minute,” he said, giving me a level look which I returned, adding a twirling hand gesture to get him to continue.  He raised one eyebrow but went on.

“So three security guys roll out of the chopper and take up positions around the damn copter like I’m the president or something.  Then this fireplug of a fella steps up to me and introduces himself as Deckert.  Runs the human security force for your princess, which I guess is a big job, but he came to get me himself on account of I’m your family and he wasn’t taking any chances.  Former Marine Force Recon.  Good guy.  We talked on the way down.  The kinda solider most officers would want to clone and fill a platoon with.  Anyway, here I am, zipped from the farm to this posh hotel in mere hours.  I gotta tell you, Chris, I was pretty worried when you stepped in.  I didn’t know if you were half lobotomized or what.  But you seem really good.  Although –" he paused to draw a breath, “you seem a bit different as well.  Lydia mentioned it after you and Tanya… retired.  She noticed that you’re much edgier.  Quicker to jump down someone’s throat.  I see it, too.  Thought we should talk about that.”

I had a mouthful of pancake, so I took a moment to chew and swallow, which gave me time to think.  When it was finally safe to open my maw, I almost had my thoughts in order.

“I have no idea what’s going on almost all the time.  I don’t know anyone, I don’t recognize anything or any place, but it’s all being shoved at me rapid fire.  People look at me and I can tell they know me by their body language, but I don’t have a clue who they are.  I can do all this stuff—lift cars, jump on top of buildings, move really fast.  Did you know I can take quarters and shoot them like a plasma weapon?”

“Actually, I did.  Len and I figured that one out for you,” he said with a grin.

“Anyway, it’s all one steady, full on mindfuck—sorry.”  Gramps wasn’t big on swearing although there were moments when it was appropriate.  My use of the word showed him how messed up I was.

“That’s why it’s so great to see you.  You’re the only one I know.  I can feel that I know Tanya and I can feel her emotions, which is bizarre, but that’s the only ace I got.  Gramps, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing or how I got this way.”

A giant furry head pushed its way onto my lap and I lay one hand over the massive skull without thinking about it.

“What about him?” Gramps asked, smiling at the beast.

“He feels right, like he belongs with me, but I don’t remember him.  The temper thing you mentioned is there, sir.  It’s frustration, mainly.  But also... I’ve lost so much time.  I don’t want to lose more time to stupid things.  People with shitty attitudes, people that expect butt kissing, or any crap like that.  I’m not going to waste brain power on that stuff.”

He was watching me carefully, a look I remembered well growing up.  It was his evaluation look, the one he used when he was judging my attitude, and it was so damn familiar, it almost made me cry.  One thing that I could recognize.  I almost hugged him for just looking at me that way.

“I guess I can relate to that.  But listen, kiddo.  You need to temper that a bit.  From what I understand, you have lots of time, decades, maybe centuries of time.  So you need to be a little sensitive to how things flow, ya see?”

“They told me about that; at least, Stacia did.  That I don’t age anymore.  But sir, I feel like I just got out of college.  That I just graduated.  But I didn’t.  I led a whole life and now I’ve got none of that.”

“That brings us back to Stacia.  Tell me about her,” he said, sipping his coffee.

“Well, she was the first person I met after… after the shot.  Her and ‘Sos," I said, patting the bulk on my lap.  “She helped me… with everything.  Never asked me for a thing.”

“And she’s gorgeous?” he added, watching my reaction.

“Yes, of course!  What do you want me to say?  She’s drop-dead gorgeous,” I hissed in a whisper.  “Everyone seems to hate her, but I gotta tell you, sir, she’s been the most stable, truest friend I’ve had so far.  Maybe in my whole life—at least what I remember of it.”

He thought about that for a moment, mentally chewing it over.

“Understand, Chris, that this is hard for all of us as well.  We have to remember all the time that you don’t remember.  It’s not easy.  Like in my case, I keep forgetting that anything you may have learned about women in the last two years is gone.  So here’s the thing.  You are bonded to the queen of the vampires and from what I know, you love her.  And she, by her own admission, is a jealous, territorial woman.  You saved Stacia from a werewolf and I know, because you told me so, that you’ve always felt guilty about her getting bit, a fact which bothers you much more than her.  And from what Lydia says, Stacia has a major thing for you.  So the vampire women don’t like her, which would be the same if they were human women.  But you have to stay true to your friends; if you didn’t, then I would have a big issue with you.  And you’re right… you never got a chance to have many friends.  So you have a tricky rope to balance on.  You need to make sure you don’t lead that girl on while trying to be a friend and staying true to Tanya, who I consider my granddaughter-in-law whether vampires marry or not.”

"Argggg!” I said, pounding my head with both hands.  “Like I need this right now.  I gotta try and rebuild who I was and juggle all that.”

He nodded.  “Not an easy road.  But you’ve never had an easy road, Chris.  So if friends and relationships are as important to you as I think they are, you have to stay on that road.”

“So how do I do it, Gramps?”

“One foot in front of the other, Chris. One foot in front of the other.”

The suite doorbell rang.  I went to the door, moving faster than I intended.  Gramps's crossword book swirled in the wind of my passage.  “Oops, my bad,” I told him as I opened the door.

A muscular human male with a crew-cut and semper fi tattoo on his forearm stood in the doorway.

“Mr. Gordon,” he said, then leaned slightly to take in my grandfather, who he addressed, “Mr. Gordon.”

“Good morning, Mr. Deckert. Coffee?” Gramps responded.

“No thank you, sir.  Just wanted to tell you that the NYPD is here.  They said to tell you,” he directed the last at me, “- that they have another one. They said you would know what that meant.”

I didn’t know much, but unfortunately, I knew that.

The same lieutenant from the night before was there, in the lobby, looking dead tired.

“We have another building in Queens.  Pretty much the same thi…” he trailed off, looking behind me.  Tanya was tugging a long-sleeved, black athletic shirt into place, dark sunglasses hiding her eyes. She wore the same yoga pants from the night before. She radiated sleepiness, but it was, after all, the equivalent of the middle of the night for her. “Ah Lieutenant?  You were saying?”

“Ah, yeah, ‘nother demon house thingy.  Hello, Miss Demidova,” he said, his attention to the matter at hand completely shot.

“Okay, let’s go,” I said, which caused Deckert to speak into a wrist mike, Gramps to grab his glasses and wallet, and the Lieutenant to pay attention.  Tanya stepped forward and took my hand in hers while a whirlwind of activity blew up around us.  A few minutes later, we were all riding in a big Cadillac Escalade with a police cruiser in full flashing-light-and-siren mode clearing the way for us.

Chapter 34

Gina was waiting for us, as was Stacia, which surprised me.  The beautiful were girl was dressed in olive green cargo pants, black boots, and was wearing a stretchy black athletic shirt that almost matched Tanya’s.  This time, we skipped the hazmat suits and just headed in: me, Tanya, the wolf girl, and Awasos.  There was only one demon in this building and the hole was even smaller.  Cleaning the whole thing up took about an hour.

When we left the building, Gramps and Gina were waiting for us, talking to an older, white-haired man with a big white mustache who wore a black suit and leaned on a crystal-headed cane.  An extremely fit-looking Native American woman was standing next to him, arms crossed, watching us as we approached. Correction—she was watching me and Tanya, having dismissed Stacia at a glance.  Something about her seemed odd.  It came to me three steps later: she was a were, and for a split second, her animal half seemed to peer out at me like a superimposed image.  Wolverine.

“How was it?” Gina asked.  The older gent and his assistant or bodyguard or whatever she was observed us closely.

“Easier than last night.  Still messy, though.  Lots of blood.” I said, watching the newcomers.  They both knew me. At least, their body language seemed to say so.

“Director Stewart, Miss Benally,” Tanya said with a nod at each of them.

“Why hello yourself, Miss Demidova,” the man, Stewart, said with a sly smile.  “You’re up early today?”   It was close to 2 pm.

“This business finds me keeping strange hours,” my vampire responded with a wave back at the apartment building behind us.

“Yes, this business,” he mused, twitching his mustache with one hand.  He looked at me with a curious gleam in his eye but then switched his gaze to Stacia.  “This must be Miss Reynolds!”

“You are correct.  Stacia, meet Nathan Stewart, Director of Oracle, and his right hand, Adine Benally,” Gina said.

Stacia shook the Director’s hand, nodded at Benally who hadn’t moved a muscle, and then, with a glance at me, asked the very question I had been thinking.  “What’s Oracle?”

“Occult Research, Alternative Combat League or O.R.A.C.L.” he replied with a delighted grin.

“Seems like you worked pretty hard on that mouthful?” Stacia noted.

The Director laughed outright, causing a couple of cops nearby to glance his way.  He ignored the attention, staying focused on Stacia, with a couple of sideways glances at me.

“My dear, that’s how it’s done.  First, you figure out the acronym you want to end up with, then you make the words fit.  Time-honored government tradition,” he said, beaming at her.  He seemed genuinely enthusiastic; it wasn’t contrived in the least.

Again, my blonde were friend asked the question I had been about to ask, saving me the trouble of displaying my lack of mental faculty.  “What does Oracle do?”

“Well, my dear, I’ve been able to assemble a group of talented individuals whose abilities have proven valuable, if not, in fact, vital to the safety of our nation.  But none of my people have Mr. Gordon’s collection of skills, and I’m afraid what you’ve all experienced in the last few days is happening on a much larger scale.”

“The hell gates?  How much larger?” I asked.

“Global, as best we can tell,” he said, turning his attention to me.  “Certainly all across our country, and we’re hearing from allied nations much the same.”

“A plague of portals to hell?” I asked.  “Why?”

“Actually, we already understand the why of it all.  It’s the how—as in how to close them that we don’t have good answers for… other than your skills.”

“Explain, please,” Tanya asked, although it sounded a bit more like an imperial command.  She was concerned, mostly for me.

“Certainly, Miss Demidova,” he said, adopting a more serious expression.  Benally had leaned forward at Tanya’s tone but otherwise held her place.

“Do you know of the Large Hadron Collider?” he asked.

“In Switzerland, right?  The largest particle accelerator in the world,” I said, asserting my geekhood.  It was a project I followed… had followed.  It must have been much farther along than I remembered.

“Exactly right, Mr. Gordon.  A wondrous achievement that has pushed the very boundaries of science.  It also seems to have had the effect of diminishing those barriers that separate our world from others.”

“Wait. Like string-theory and alternative dimensions?” I asked.  Tanya turned a raised eyebrow in my direction.  “What?  I’ve always been a nerd.”

“I thought you might have developed those… interests in the last couple of years?” she asked.

“No, he’s always been interested in science,” my grandfather interjected.  He seemed to know Director Stewart and his partner.

“Kind of a let-down, huh?” I asked Tanya.  She just smirked at me and turned back to Stewart.

“Is this development related to the Higgs Boson research?” she asked, turning slightly to arch her eyebrow at me in a take that look.  Wow, super-hot and brainy!  Apparently the old me had great taste in vampires… so to speak.

Stacia looked annoyed, but the Director was grinning again.

“We think it’s a byproduct of just running the LHC at full power, something they’ve been doing a lot of lately.”

“What led you to that conclusion?” Tanya asked.

“We had an incident upstate.  Little town called Groton Falls.  We covered it up with a chemical spill story, but it was an incursion.”

“Demons?” My voice sounded really deep, and people around us turned to stare.  Stewart’s eyes widened just slightly and his partner, Benally, twitched like she was gonna pounce on me.  Tanya touched my hand, and the dark bubble that had swelled up inside me receded.  Gramps was eyeing me with a speculative look, Gina was unreadable, and Stacia… Stacia was watching Tanya’s hand on my arm with the focused look of someone learning a new skill.

“Sorry, but was it demons?” I asked, voice normal.

“No, elves,” Stewart said, his mustache twitching in amusement.

“Like in Keebler elves?” I asked after a shared glance with Tanya.

“Oh no, Mr. Gordon.  These elves are very, very far from the cookie makers or Santa’s cute helpers.  These are the beings that gave the Brothers Grimm the fodder for their bleak tales.  And with them came goblins and all sorts of other nastiness.  It would seem that Faerie is a real world, sort of a sister—a dark sister—to this one.  There are others as well, but Faerie is closest  and has the most history with us.  Natural cosmic events, which I don’t pretend to understand, have emitted particles from time to time that would unlock the dimensional doors, so to speak.  They have crossed over and left their imprint on our psyches and in our folklore for hundreds of years.”

“Sounds like they need to learn not to trespass!” I said, thinking about how it might be to kick some elfy ass.

“Actually, we have it under control.  The trespassers, as you call them, met up with the wrong man and, well, as I say, we have it under control.  Diplomatic relations and all.  I do have to say that upstate New York seems to breed some rather formidable individuals,” he said with a nod at both my grandfather and myself.

“Sounds like half my neighbors back home,” Gramps said.

“I think you might get along well with the fellow in question, Mr. Gordon,” Stewart said.  “But the elves have explained some things to us and they were well aware of the LHC and its effects.  This Hellgate business seems the same.  With the help of some of the elves that study these things, we’ve figured out how the LHC has done what it has done, and our scientists have corrected it.  But we are left with weakened barriers and many multiples of these portals, both the Hellgate kind and some of the interplanetary kind.  I’m here to see if we can prevail upon you to help us with the demon portals?”

Of course I would help.  Fighting demons was my reason for existence.  Before I could answer, my vampire leaned forward, one hand touching my arm to keep me quiet.  “Under what terms?  How much will the government pay?”

Stewart looked taken aback, shocked at her mercenary attitude, although I thought I detected a certain gleam in his eye.  “Remuneration?  It’s been my understanding that Mr. Gordon here helps the demon afflicted without thought of lining his pockets.”

“Hah!  For people with possessed children?  Of course.  For governments that have unbalanced the natural order through uncontrolled experimentation to exploit the knowledge?  Not so much.  Plus, Chris has the right to earn a living, just as you do.  Do you and Ms. Benally not receive payment for your patriotic service?”

I think I knew from someone, maybe Lydia, that Tanya had a good business mind, but hearing about it and seeing it in action are two vastly different things.  For the next fifteen minutes, I watched my beautiful girl reduce that tough, seasoned bureaucrat to a pile of quivering jelly, although he seemed slightly amused by it, as well.  Gramps watched with unconcealed awe, following the byplay like an ESPN commentator at the Super Bowl.  Even Stacia looked impressed.

The final upshot was that the government would pay me handsomely for each and every breach closure I completed.  Additionally, anyone helping me, as in Tanya, Stacia, or Gina would be paid as well.  The government was responsible for our transportation, lodging, and—most importantly—meals.  That one, right there, was gonna cost the taxpayers plenty.

“Thirty-thousand per breach seems like a lot?” I remarked as we walked to the waiting Escalade.

“Bah, it’s cheap, and he knows it.  The government would pay that in the first hour in personnel costs just to keep a perimeter around a breach site.  Hell, any of the cast members of Jersey Shore get that much for showing up drunk at a speaking engagement or corporate event.  I could have gotten much more, but I knew you would balk.  You would do it for free, wouldn’t you?”

“Of course.”

“Tough to pay your bills with patriotic goodwill.  Plus, the government’s gonna tax you on that money, anyway.  They’re gonna get back a third of it, if not more.  I just don’t want you to get taken for granted.”

“You’re really good at business stuff.  Aren’t you supposed to be watching over the Coven’s interests?”

“I did that, and it almost cost me you.  From now on, I take care of my interests first and not the Coven’s.  Grandmother can suck an egg, and I swear to God I’ll kick Mausya’s ass if she gets within a hundred yards of you.  Elder, my ass!”

I was silent for a few steps as I thought about that.  “You shouldn’t alienate your family over me,” I finally said, wishing I still had a family.

“Oh, I tried it the other way before.  The result was unending manipulation of our lives and you losing all your memories of us and almost your life.  No more!” she said, one hand chopping the air in emphasis.  The air snapped in displacement at the force of it.  “Besides, they won’t exile us.  They don’t dare.  But they need to know we’re not their tools!”

She meant it.  Even deeper than her words indicated.  My link fed me her emotions, and her resolve felt like tungsten mixed with titanium, with a diamond coating for good measure.

Mr. Deckert held the door for us, giving me a short nod before continuing to scan the area around the Lincoln SUV, and I realized that my vampire was something of a force to be reckoned with among vampires.  Despite her avowed break from the Coven, the head of  daytime security was still personally escorting us—well, at least her.  Maybe the Coven had as much chance of withstanding her as poor Mr. Stewart had.  It would be interesting to see.

Chapter 35

So that’s how I spent my summer.  Demon bashing, portal closing, not remembering.  We had three more breaches to close in New York.  One in Manhattan, one on Long Island, and the last in Buffalo.

The next week, we flew to Miami where there were two portals, each breaking through into our world through the chicken-blood, finger-painted symbols of a voodoo altar.  Director Stewart flew us down on a government Gulfstream jet.  In addition to his assistant, Adine, he had another woman with him.  Stacia knew her immediately, calling her Agent Mahar.  Turned out I had met her when she was embedded in an FBI Behavioral Analysis Unit.  She was actually an Israeli agent on detached assignment to something called Task Force 17.  Tanya was familiar with that.

“In other words, Christian, she’s here to study us,” my vampire explained in front of everyone.

“Us? Like weres and vampires?” I asked.

“Us like you and me,” she corrected.  “What’s your background, Agent Mahar—science or… let me guess… theology.”

Mahar looked surprised, while Stewart just looked mildly uncomfortable.

“I have a Doctorate in Biblical studies from the University of Tel Aviv,” Mahar replied, a bit nonplussed.

“Would your father be Ari Mahar? Noted scholar?” Tanya pressed.  Mahar was visibly shocked, reduced to just nodding.

I looked a question at Tanya, but Lydia answered.  “She’s been studying a lot lately,” she said with a shrug.  “Remembers everything she ever sees.”

“I’d just settle for remembering what kind of car I drive,” I said, moving deeper into the plane to find a seat.

When we got back from Miami, the NYPD was waiting for us.  The same world-weary lieutenant met us at the airport.

“We found one of those Hellbourne things you mentioned.  After cross-checking the building's residents, we found one missing.  A little retired woman who suffered from debilitating Rheumatoid arthritis and chronic depression.  She showed up yesterday.  Got pulled over on the Long Island Expressway.  A Suffolk County sheriff’s deputy got his neck broke.  Other drivers called 911, and they cornered her in East Hampton.  She shot another cop with the deputy’s gun, then took fifteen shots to go down.  The last round was a head shot.  We think she’s dead, but we’re holding her in a secure morgue for you to check out.”

The body was dead, and the demon driver was long gone.  Free on planet Earth and undoubtedly looking for another meat shell.

There was a small notebook among her effects, full of rambling notes, written in blood.  One of them mentioned me by name.  Under a to-do list:

Get gordon’s new family.  Last 1 so much fun.

I spent a long time looking at that.  What new family?  My vampires?  The weres who lived next to the farm?  Gina, Roy, and Toni Velasquez?

My memories of my family’s murder were the most vivid I had.  Picturing little Toni lying in a pool of blood terrified me. I felt a helpless sort of panic knowing they were vulnerable to the same thing that took my parents and brother.

Director Stewart detailed some of his people to guard the Velasquezs and the NYPD put a car outside their house.  Not enough in my mind.  I layered their home and car with aura-charged fetishes, adding to the necklaces they already had.  The bear pendant around Toni’s neck was the most powerful I had ever seen and I had no idea how I had made it, but it would be very difficult for a Hellbourne to pierce its protective shell.

There was nothing else to do but continue on with closing gates.

After Miami, we cleaned up five spots in Arizona and New Mexico which held a total of seven demons.

We came home, which was still the hotel even though Gramps had gone back to his farm.  Arkady had moved the saltwater bucket to a vault in a local bank, locking it in a safe deposit box big enough to hold a body.  We were back just two days before Stewart called to tell us about problems in New Orleans.  That city was riddled with holes in the fabric of reality.  We chalked up a total of eleven demons there.

By this time, we had settled into a regular team, consisting of me, Tanya, Awasos, and, oddly, Stacia.  My best guess as to why my fire-spitting vampire girlfriend didn’t object was because we often went into hell houses in broad daylight.  She was never at her best in those conditions, her reflexes slowed by the sun, so I my thought was that she sacrificed her peace of mind in order for me to have a supernatural backup unaffected by sunlight.  The blonde were girl had taken to carrying a short-barreled pump shotgun with her every time we went on a call.  It came in handy more than once, particularly when something physical had squeezed through into our realm. I finally asked Tanya about Stacia when we were alone and I felt particularly brave… or maybe reckless.

“There are several reasons, Chris.  She’s actually quite competent – she has good instincts. She is honorable. But also she’s a reminder to me.”

“Reminder of what?”

“That I could lose you.  That if I put my grandmother’s agenda or Coven business before you that she’ll be there to snap you up.  She’s my competition and competition is good for me.  And last, if something happens to me I like knowing that you will have someone to watch your back.”

I had no idea how to respond to that, so I kept my mouth shut.  Maybe wisely – maybe not.

From time to time, Lydia and Gina joined us, and we were usually shepherded to each site by Director Stewart and, often, Mahar—who now made no bones about questioning us.  Well, mainly me, but also Tanya, to a degree.

I had a few more flashes of memory during the month of July, mostly right in the middle of some demon-bashing action.  Bits and pieces, mostly of Tanya, but also some involving motorcycles and werewolves, although one involved a giant cage and a dying Kodiak bear.

We also realized that almost every gateway was born on the site of some dark occult ritual or ceremony.  Any witchcraft practioner, wizard wannabe, or voodoo priest messing with arcane powers might leave behind a tear in the veil that hides our world from Hell.

We had to plug fifteen leaks in Los Angeles during August and believe me, the irony was not lost on us that Hollywood was the site of so many attempted deals with the devil.

Seattle offered up a few demon doors during early September, leaving us tired and travel weary by the time we got back to the Big Apple.  After a day of rest, Tanya decided she wanted to visit Coven headquarters and, more shockingly, she wanted me to go with her.  I hadn’t seen even a glimpse of the infamous Citadel that I heard about regularly, so I was extremely curious.  Travelling the concrete tunnels caused my skin to crawl with the feeling of memories hiding just beyond my grasp.  When I saw the rooms that had been our home, I could almost remember, almost recall things about it, but full memories remained elusive.

We were leaving with some of our personal effects when two female vampires appeared in the corridor ahead of us, each followed by a small army of lackeys.  My eyes told me that they were both very old, with one around nine hundred years and the other well over twelve hundred years of age.

I kept my mouth shut as I studied what could only be Elders Senka and Mausya.  Blonde, attractive Senka could don a business suit and look like a business executive or change to jeans and a sweatshirt to look like a minivan-driving house mom.  Mausya was a brunette, and if you looked past her coldly calculating eyes, she could be a Lands End or LL Bean catalogue model.

They both watched me with fascination, but Mausya paid close attention to the suddenly tense and angry vampire princess by my side.

“Granddaughter,” Senka greeted Tanya before turning to me.  “How are you, Christian?”

I got nothing when I looked at them. Not a glimmer or hint of any experience or feeling of familiarity.   “I feel good.  You know, unburdened by the weight of memory,” I answered.

Senka frowned at my tone, and a giant slavic-looking vampire behind her edged sideways to lock eyes with me.

“He doesn’t remember any of you or any of this, Grandmother.  See, some vampire tried to assassinate him and failed,” Tanya said, her tone sharp enough to make every lower-ranked vampire freeze in place.

Senka turned a deep frown in her direction.  “I told you, Tatiana, I had nothing to do with any attempt on Chris’s life.  You know how much I value him.”

“Yup, value like a favorite tool,” my vampire replied, but her eyes were already locked on the other Elder.

“I certainly had nothing to do with it!” Mausya protested.

“Yet your entire platform for Elderhood consisted of preaching the dangers of my chosen.”

Two of Mausya’s security types shifted angrily, and I felt the dark one inside me jump to just under the surface.  I broke eye contact with the giant long enough to glance their way, and I felt a cold smile cross my face, one I didn’t have control over.  At the same time, I got a flashback of momory.  A concrete amphitheater with old vampires on raised daises.

Mausya jumped slightly, her right hand making a slashing motion at her men, but her eyes never leaving me.

“I can’t get a fix,” she said in a worried voice.

Senka turned to her in a superfast motion that reminded me of her age.  “What do you mean?”

“Everything is jumbled around him.  As if nothing is certain.  As if anything could happen,” Mausya said.

“Well, clear it up!  Get a lock on him,”Senka ordered, leaving no doubt about the pecking order among elders.

“Hello, standing right here?” I said mildly.  Part of me wanted very, very much to jump into the middle of the surly bodyguards and have at it.  The rest of me was busy realizing why Tanya had such issues with her leaders.

“They say you never get a second chance at a first impression.  But in this case, that is exactly what you both just got.  I’m not sure, but I think the first one went better,” Tanya said, shoving past the two elders and their entourage, towing me behind her.

“Tatiana Antonovna Demidova!” Senka hissed in an arctic voice that spoke of primordial death.

“No, Grandmother!  We are through here, and we are leaving!”

“Be very careful, little Darkkin, how you act.  There are consequences.”

“Pot. Kettle. Black.” With those final words, Tanya turned and headed down the corridor, her hand on my elbow, her lips tight. I didn’t need the bond to know she was angry.

Behind us, I heard Mausya speak softly to Senka. “… Forty-seven percent chance she’ll pull away,” her voice trailing off as Senka hushed her.

When we were three turns and two passages away, I turned to Tanya.  “What did she mean pull away?”

“Mausya reads probabilities.  Actually, we all do it to some extent, but her ability to assimilate random variables and predict probable outcomes verges on psychic.  She could read that I’m considering cutting ties to the Coven.”

“What? They’re your family,” I said, stopping her in place, which, by the way, isn’t easy.  Like trying to slow a bulldozer.

“Families separate all the time.  Children pull away from overbearing parents and grandparents.  It happens.”

“She would cut you off from the resources of the Coven,” I stated, somehow knowing that the blonde elder vampire I had just met had a ruthless streak as broad as the Mississippi.

“Yup.  But I would take Lydia, Nika, Arkady, Chet, and about twenty others with me,” she stated grimly.

“How would we support so many?” I wondered.  She flashed me a beautiful smile. “What?” I asked.

“You said we,” she noted.

“Ah, yeah.  Of course.  What else would I have said?”

She just shook her beautiful ebony mane of hair.  “Christian, I’ve been trained from birth by the most conniving, cunning, paranoid vampire of them all.  I’ve been preparing to be on my own since I was ten.  Like that saying of the Boy Scouts: Be Prepared.  That’s the part about Scouts that is my favorite—well, second favorite,” she added slyly.

I ducked slightly to look her in the eye, suddenly wondering if she’d been snacking on Cub Scouts.  She laughed, patted my cheek, and continued down the corridor.  I followed, realizing she had just made a joke.

Chapter 36

Tanya insisted on down time between each trip to give us time to recharge and recover.  No matter how insistent Stewart got or how bleak a picture he painted of the next emergency, she made him give us a day between trips.  I’m pretty sure it was for my benefit, as I was usually the most worn down by each portal closure.  Physically, I did little at each site, leaving most of the violence to Awasos and the women.  But the drain on my aura from closing a Hellgate was not insignificant; in fact, the God Tear necklace had shrunk till it was three-quarters of its original size.  Having a day between travels gave us all time to repack our stuff and have time off.  I started to spend a good deal of it with Toni and her family, in part because I had to reassure myself of their safety.

We were a day back from Chicago, which had had another four portals, five demons, and one Hellbourne.  The day was sunny and warm, and I left Tanya sleeping in to check on the Velasquez family.  Gina had texted me that they were spending the day at a park in Brooklyn that I used to frequent—at least, according to her.  Owls Head Park.

So Awasos and I picked up a pre-packed picnic from the hotel kitchen, triple-sized—or, enough to feed about ten people—and hailed a cab.

The cab ride was boring, traffic was bad, and I was a bit irritable from fighting off 'Sos’s attempts to get a head start on our lunch by the time we got to the park.  I paid the cabbie, and we started into the park from the Colonial Road side.  My days of the week were mixed up—a result of flying all around the country—so it took a second to realize it was Saturday.  The park was hopping.  Frisbee throwers, picnickers, kids in the skate park, kids in the playground, and some kind of Renaissance festival full of knights, jesters, and maidens out in the open meadow, all enjoying the warm, early fall day.

The sheer manic energy of it made me rock back on my heels for a second.  Awasos was less impressed, his head swiveling to missile lock on a certain picnic blanket occupied by a family of three dark-haired individuals.  The Velasquez family had set up shop about two hundred yards from the medieval festival, keeping well out of the mayhem but giving a curious seven-year-old a great view. They were also close to the playground.

I automatically scanned the people around them till I found what I was looking for.  Four casually dressed but extremely alert men were spaced around the family.  They were spread out in a loosely defined box around the family, each attempting to look like they were normal parkgoers.  The matching dark glasses, wrist and ear wires, and constantly swiveling heads sorta ruined that perception, at least in my eyes.  Stewart’s guards, just as promised.

Awasos woofed a short, sharp bark which immediately caught Toni’s attention.  Her little head snapped around and her face lit up like it was Christmas at the sight of the giant canine next to me.  She started to run toward us, 'Sos began to trot toward her, and everything went straight to hell.

The first action I became aware of was a flurry of motion in my peripheral vision.  I turned slightly to see a young couple that had been making out on a picnic blanket break off their kiss and jump in tandem on the Oracle guard sitting alone on the grass near them.  The woman grabbed his right arm and locked it as her partner broke the sentry’s neck.  It was so professionally smooth that no one noticed; at least for several seconds.

Everything slowed down as I became aware of multiple events.  Even as the lovers killed together, a woman with a baby stroller pulled a suppressed pistol from under her bundle of joy and double-tapped another Oracle watcher in the head.  A frisbee catcher chose that moment to drop his orange plastic disc directly behind guard number three and instead wrap his arms around the soldier’s throat in a rear choke.  The fourth bodyguard made it to his feet before getting stabbed by a passing medieval knight’s bastard sword.  The knight had been escorting a young woman dressed as a serving wench, who had been selling turkey legs to hungry park goers.  The wench dropped her basket of drumsticks, ripped free the velcro-fastened bottom of her costume, and bolted after my goddaughter.  Her newly revealed athletic legs were much faster than a seven-year-old’s; faster than maybe an Olympic sprinter’s, and she caught Toni in seven strides.  Awasos lengthened his bounds, and the dark thing inside me burst free.

The wench woman had time to catch the little girl under the arms and toss her to the knight before her body was swept away by three hundred pounds of enraged wolf.  The sound of her spine snapping from impact was clearly audible to me even as I flashed across the green grass.

The knight handed Toni off to the lovers and turned to face me, his bloody sword in hand. But the thing inside me, the one that craved violence, was fully free and in command.  I observed as a glitter of shiny purple ran from elbow to the little finger tip of my left arm, then watched as my arm intercepted the hardened steel sword, clipping the blade from the handle like a weed eater clips grass.  My right fist impacted the knight’s helmeted head, the authentic steel face guard folding into his suddenly concave and broken skull.

The female lover held Toni while the guy produced a harness of some type which he immediately began to fit around my little goddaughter’s tiny frame. The mother with the pistol lifted her aim to me, smoothly firing off five rounds, all of which missed my jinking and shifting body.  She was very good, excellent in fact, but the dead knight absorbed three of the shots and two flat-out missed.  Five shots was all she got before both arms were sheared off at the elbow by the giant teeth of my wolf.

Still, those five shots did two things.  First, it made me jump back and away from Toni, and two, it gave just enough time for the next combatants to enter the fray.  A flash of black and a stunning impact on the side of my head was my first clue.  But the persona my friends call Grim flipped me over, landing my body on both feet, and then engaged the metallic figure that had hit me from the right.  The man was encased in black armor and had moments ago been hidden in one of the Renaissance tents.  But it was much more like Heinlein’s powered mobile infantry armor than the plated knights of old.  My dark half considered this new development for several micro seconds, even as other flashes of black approached from all points around us.

It was a fascinating piece of engineering.  Overlapping plates and segments of blackened metal that slid smoothly across each other as the man inside simply wore it.  It hummed with a deadly power, but not the heavy servomotor sounds of old Arnie in the Terminator or Robert Downey’s portrayal of Iron Man.  It was much more graceful than that; quicker, slicker.

Some of the blackened metal was scratched, and a dull gray showed through.  The words depleted uranium popped unbidden into my mind, maybe from Grim, who was guiding every action.  The faceplate was some kind of Lexan-carbon fiber mesh sandwich that let me see my opponent's eyes.  He was confident in the power of his technology.  I had to admit… I was pretty impressed as well.  But Grim... not so much.

I had a sudden flashback of a short, ninja-like vampire in a ripped and torn black uniform with dull gray chainmail showing through, fighting me across a concrete dojo.  Then it was gone, and we were in full motion.

My left hand shot out, calling the shorn steel sword blade to it, even as my right hand blocked a jarring, powerful swing by my black knight opponent.  The hardened steel jumped into my hand from fifteen feet away and I pressed both palms together to hold it in front of me, my fingers and hand pads pressing hard enough to leave embedded prints in the metal.

Armor boy laughed, a braying electronic sound that issued from the speaker in his throat guard.  My arms shot forward, the sword tip moving bullet fast into the translucent facemask.  Lexan is great stuff, strong as hell.  But there’s a big difference between deflecting a quarter-ounce bullet and a two-pound sword blade.  The sectional density of the eighteen inches of formed steel was much greater than any rifle round, and the speed of impact was approaching the muzzle velocity of a black powder pistol.  Armor boy fell back, suit shuddering with the death twitches of a brain-pithed body, the broken blade sticking straight up out of his face.

Another black suit had flashed onto the field, heading for the giant wolf that had just torn one of the two remaining unsuited males' head off.  The suits moved fast, forty to forty-five miles per hour, and the one headed for Awasos veritably streaked across the green grass. 'Sos turned, sensing it coming, and then shimmered into a twelve-hundred-pound wall of muscle.  The new suit twitched, as if its wearer had just micro paused, but then came on.

Big bears are deceptively fast.  Supernatural big bears are something else altogether. 'Sos’s spin aside was fast enough to cause the suit to miss.  His big, blurring right paw smashing into the suit’s back added another ten miles per hour to the man’s speed, which took him right through two small trees and a concrete trash barrel.

The suit protected him, as it was designed to do, but he was dazed for a moment as he stood up from the wreckage.  Unfortunately, he didn’t have a moment. 'Sos showed up at his back and both giant paws came together in a sonic boom of a clap.  The suit buckled—compressed at points its designers had not intended it to.  The facemask splashed bright red from the inside, and the metal-clad body fell back into the ruins of the garbage bin.  I had a flash of memory.  A small, extremely nasty vampire exploding as two gargantuan bear paws squashed him like a caterpillar.  Then I was back, even as Grim was moving us across the field of combat.

Gina and Roy had begun to move toward their daughter, but were stopped by the male lover’s 9mm Glock.  He held the pistol in one hand as he unfolded a long rope connected to a package.  He pulled a cord on the package and it began to inflate.

Two more suits approached me from different angles, coming fast.  Grim choose to move right, cutting the angle so that now they both approached from roughly the same vector.  The twenty yard hop-skip sideways had also put us near the front entrance to the park.  Grim stopped ten feet in front of the low brick wall that surrounded the park for a split second, then accelerated forward toward the nearest attacker.  That one just lowered his shoulder and came on even faster like a cannon shell.

Part of me tried to calculate the energy of a two-hundred-pound man inside a two-hundred-pound suit moving at almost fifty miles per hour. The Grim part of me just went low, below the soldier’s level, and stood up under him, flipping him over me like a linebacker launching a rushing tackle toward outer space.

He flipped completely over the wall and slammed into a red Honda Accord parked on Colonial Road, crushing the windshield and roof, setting off a whooping car alarm.  We leaped the distance to the car, and Grim yanked a metal parking sign out of the sidewalk, swinging it like Jackie Robinson, the concrete clump on its end smashing the suit out into the street.

Grim turned back to the second soldier, who chose to launch a flying sidekick, his metal-edged foot turned sideways.  His speed was much lower and Grim simply slide sideways a foot, grabbed the metal ankle, and spun the four-hundred-pound package around, up, and down onto a stubby fire hydrant.  The metal breastplate buckled, folded inward but holding tight.  Not so the tender flesh and brittle bone filling inside, which compressed and crunched with a nasty, rather definitive sound.   Another memory flash—this one of me swinging a motorcycle one-handed into a bar of werewolves.

Grim did it again, this time smashing the suit’s back.  It still held together, but the hydrant broke, a jet of high-pressure water shooting straight up twenty feet in the air.  The soldier inside the suit was critically injured, his torso compressed too far to leave many of his organs intact.  But he was alive.  Spoke too soon.  The suit’s faceplate flashed a red glow three times, then an explosive crack sounded from the back of the helmet and the Lexan mask spider webbed from inside as some projectile slammed into it.  The red on the face mask was now the wet, drippy kind instead of electronically generated light.

The guy from the Honda had pulled himself upright in the street, but Grim was already in front of him.  A whumping sound penetrated part of my awareness, approaching from the southwest.  But even as we (Grim and I) were aware of it, Grim was grabbing a metal arm in one blistered hand while the other DU-burned hand slid under the suit’s armpit.  Grim spun around, bending at the waist, planting his feet, and tossed the suit over his hip in a fairly textbook judo throw.  One that ended with the suit on the ground, Grim holding the arm, ignoring the burning pain of the depleted uranium, and bending the arm back.  Fastened to the ground in that weird vampire way, exerting all of his/our strength against the hyperextended arm, it was only a matter of a foot or so before things tore.  But the suit held.  So Grim put my foot on the shoulder blade and worked the arm like a kid breaking off a green stick.  Some kind of connective mesh, possibly titanium, had put up a fight, but it tore loose, freeing the armored arm and leaving a blood-jetting hole in the shoulder.  The blood stopped after a couple of seconds as something in the hole constricted, but a lot had sprayed by then.  Too much, as this suit also began to flash a red fail-safe signal before the same explosive shot sounded.  Apparently the suit’s designers didn’t want their people to get interrogated.

I had been aware of roaring from inside the park, just as I was aware the whumping sound was closer.  I/we moved back into the park, noting that no other fail safe units would be needed.  Two more armor soldiers had engaged Awasos.  They were understaffed for the job.   Did you know that a half-ton were-bear can launch a four-hundred-pound, suited man almost two hundred feet?  I didn’t either.  That was result of attempting to just charge directly into my bear.  One massive paw strike, claws catching under the helmet, and a black projectile was flying across the meadow and into a cluster of trees.

The other guy hesitated, clearly rethinking the head-on line of attack.  He raised his arm and pointed it like a weapon. A red muzzle flash and the burring sound of a full auto weapon firing confirmed that it was, in fact, a nasty little piece of ordinance.

'Sos took some rounds but then shimmered into a smaller, more agile canine package that ran into the woods where the first soldier had landed.  A roar accompanied by the sounds of metal tearing told the remaining single soldier that he was now all alone.

Grim picked up the bent and battered street sign, using another glittery edge on my right hand to clip off the messy clump of shattered concrete.  He did it at an angle, leaving a bit of a spear point on the round metal pipe.   The sign that warned against parking between the hours of 11pm and 5am in place became fletching of a sort, making the sign spin when he threw it, javelin fashion, at the armored soldier.  It flew like a Hellfire missile from an Apache helicopter. Hit him in the hand—or, more accurately, the gun part of his suit’s hand.  The soldier spun to look at us, shaking his arm and pointing it futilely.  Behind him, the inflating package had become a round balloon that rose steadily into the sky, trailing a long line of rope.

Armor guy kept shaking his hand, trying to get his gun working.  He failed to see the streak of black and tan that left the woods in a blur.  It raced up to him, leaped into the air, shimmered, and came down as a much bigger animal.  All four pile-driver feet landed on the soldier at the same time. The energy involved must have exceeded the engineers’ specs.  The suit collapsed and I had another flashback.  The same wolf leap and bear landing, but this time on a nightmare seven-foot stretch of gray-muscled monster, deep in a night-dark forest.

I blinked, back in the here and now.  Just in time to see the woman holding Toni clip the rope to the harness wrapped around my goddaughter.  Just in time to see, feel, and hear the helicopter shoot past overhead.  To see the balloon get snagged by the bracket on the helicopter’s side, yanking the stretchy rope and snatching my goddaughter into the air, dangling thirty feet below the chopper.

Chapter 37

Grim ran through the options.  Clip the rope with aura—too dangerous to the dangling little girl, who had gone from zero to one hundred miles per hour in seconds flat.  Crash the copter with aura—again, too dangerous for the same reason.  Jump and grab Toni—we tried, but fell short by twenty-two feet.

Call for Kirby to appear in front of the copter and stop its forward movement.  That one almost worked, but the pilot was a pro and jinked the Bell Ranger around the giant shadow hawk that appeared from thin air.  Poor Toni swung like a lead sinker on a fishing line as the helicopter banked around Kirby.

We began to run, flat out, flashing by Gina and Roy, close enough to see the mother’s look of horror on Gina’s face mixed with the regular look of horror from watching us fight.  She’s seen the aftermath many times, but Gina had never been present during a Grim fight.  The fake lovers took off across the park in the opposite direction, but Awasos and I ignored them, concentrating on Toni.

The helicopter was straight-lining it northeast, moving at well over a hundred miles an hour, rapidly leaving us behind. Toni’s figure started to winch closer to the cabin of the helicopter even as she grew smaller to our eyes.

We hopped the fence and ran alongside the beltway that wraps around the top of the park.  Grim was still in charge, focused on the tiny receding image of the chopper.  Most of my emotions had stripped away.  Fear, doubt, compassion for others—all gone.  I was left with worry… tremendous worry for the little girl who had been taken so easily from me.  The worry fed the rage, an all-encompassing tsunami of raw hatred and fury.  The rage fueled our pursuit.

The many drivers on the beltway immediately noticed my furry companion.  Hard to miss a giant wolf running at fifty miles an hour alongside your Mini Cooper or Toyota minivan.  None of them seemed to notice me, though.  An angry man who could keep up with a speeding wolf ought to get at least some attention, but no one so much as looked my way.

We caught up to a flatbed full of construction equipment and jumped aboard, worming our way in between a front-end loader and a small bulldozer.  Grim touched my wolf and the curious drivers around us promptly forgot about him.  Interesting, that.

The Bell Ranger was long gone, even the thumping sound of its blades having faded, but I knew exactly where it was.  I could even see the terrified little girl huddled in the padded seat, her hand clutching her bear-shaped necklace.

We couldn’t keep up.  But I had a dead lock on her location, one that wasn’t going to fade or disappear—at least as long as she kept her necklace.  So we would follow as fast as we could, taking as direct a route as possible.

The flatbed took us across the Brooklyn Bridge into Manhattan, but when it started to exit into midtown, we jumped off and ran down another loaded truck.  This one was staying on the FDR, heading north, so we let it haul us until it turned toward I-87.  The next truck was loaded with crated Polaris ATVs, and it was headed for I-95 north, which stayed closer to the path the copter had taken and the direction I knew Toni to be.  My phone rang and Grim answered it, giving Tanya the bare-bones details of what had happened.  She understood, completely, knowing we had to follow the helicopter as best and as fast as we could.  She would follow us, catching up as quickly as possible once she had marshaled her resources.  My vampire didn’t chastise me or attempt to have us wait for her; none of that.  Just instant comprehension of the problem and what was needed.   Her questions were geared to Grim: short and sharp.  His/my answers were just as brief and bullet quick.  Then I hung up and we settled back, letting the truck haul us along.

At New Haven, we left the flatbed, letting it continue on up I-95 while the compass needle in my head told me that I-91 would be a better choice for us.  We hopped off near the beginning of I-91 and, after a few moments without any appropriate trucks coming by, we headed off the highway and into the surrounding city.  An Italian restaurant near the overpass caught my attention.  First, its smell was amazing and both Awasos and I were starving.  Secondly, a big black Dodge pickup had pulled up just outside the front door, the driver heading in alone like he might be picking up take-out.  We could see him paying for two big aluminum trays of food through the window.  While he chatted with the pretty waitress who took his money, I ripped a set of license plates from another pickup in the lot.

When he came back out, Awasos sat in front of him, which stopped him in his tracks, and I relieved him of his food and keys.

We got back on the highway in our purloined vehicle, Awasos riding in the back with one tray of chicken Alfredo while I shoveled ziti and meatballs into my mouth barehanded.  There was no wrestling with my conscience over the car theft.  Nothing. We needed it, we took it.  Figure out the consequences later.  He was unharmed, just shocked, angry, and scared to death.  He’d get over it; Toni might not.  My Grim side was already planning ahead, the matter forgotten.  The next rest stop, I pulled into a secluded spot and put the stolen plates on the truck.

The truck’s radio did provide a decent news channel that was all abuzz about some strange attack in Brooklyn.  The reporters were frustrated by the lid that Homeland Security had clamped down on the site and witnesses.

We drove on, keeping the speedometer pegged at seventy-four, seventy-five miles per hour.  The truck was only a few years old, and the gas gauge showed a bit over half full.  We drove North, the link to Toni getting stronger, while behind us I could feel Tanya beginning to move our way.

We drove north for two hours.  Grim was just under the surface, acceding control for regular activities like driving and navigating or stealing cars, but ready to take over for fighting and killing.  Awasos prowled the bed of the truck, alternately whining and growling, finally settling to put his massive head through the cab windows that I slid open.  He could just rest his chin on the broad center console, the rest of his bulk hunched against the frame of the cab.

I kept getting flashes of Toni.  She was scared, but okay.  Every time she clutched her pendant, I got a picture of her.  First, in the back of the chopper and then moving through some complex and now, finally, settled in a cell, talking with two young people who appeared to be prisoners as well.

The pull of the pendant finally took us off I-91 in New Hampshire, about halfway up the state.  We stopped in a little town, Alstead, grabbed McDonalds at the drive-thru to stay fueled, and kept on.  This truck would be a wanted vehicle by now, its description and original plates on every law enforcement system in the country.  Who knew when the other truck owner would realize his plates were missing and report them?

None of that mattered as our luck held and we failed to see a single cop anywhere on the back, wooded roads of New Hampshire.  I had to backtrack three times to find the right combination of roads to get nearer to where the pendant pulled me.  Finally, an hour after leaving the highway, we were there.  A long stretch of houseless road, deep in the woods.  One gated driveway that stretched back into the forest.

Mounted cameras on the gateposts and No Trespassing signs confirmed what the pull of the pendant was telling me.  Toni was behind that gate, somewhere in a big complex.  Now it was time to go get her.

Chapter 38

I drove past the gate without slowing, holding 'Sos’s head to keep him from sitting up and staring at the cameras.  Two miles east of the driveway, I pulled off into a snow plow turnaround, which is basically just a short patch of tarmac poking out from the side of the road.

We left the truck and slipped into the woods, 'Sos on soft predator’s paws and Grim moving forward to guide my steps.  My senses expanded as they always do when he takes over, like a driver adjusting the seat and mirrors of another’s car.  It had taken close to four hours to get this far and late afternoon had settled on the hilly forest, the woods beginning to quiet as night approached.  We stalked into the wind, almost immediately picking up the scent of man and dog.

Grim slowed and stopped, pausing to build a mental map of what lay ahead.  Sounds echoed and reflected, scents swirled in the warm afternoon air, and a picture grew.  A softly burbling stream ran along the bottom of a small drainage depression that rose gradually toward the location we were interested in.  We moved into it, working our way upstream, letting the water sounds block what little noise we created, just as the westerly wind blew our scent away behind us.

A mile closer, we paused, rebuilding the mental map with more detail and this time with the position of the first team of man and dog we had smelled.  There were two distinct teams who they appeared to be circling the property on opposite sides of the perimeter.   The closest team was two men and one dog, although its scent was odd.  We sank low in the thick vegetation and observed.

Two soldiers, both in digital camouflage, and an oversized dog.  The men carried odd-looking rifles that I couldn’t identify, and the dog was some strange mix of mastiff and Rottweiler.  It was built oddly, with bulging shoulders and a flat forehead that somehow looked too small.

The men were professional, quiet, and alert.  White cords trailed from their right ears and I focused my hearing on them.  At first, the distance was too great, even for my hearing.  But as their patrol path brought them closer to where we lay, I could first hear voices and then finally make them out.

“… reports that the target is moving this way and could arrive onsite in as little as two hours.  Drones will launch in thirty minutes to get on station.  Perimeter patrol, at 1700 hours, one team member will begin sweeping with thermal.  Acknowledge.”

Each of the soldiers immediately touched a small button on the wire that ran to their throat mikes and clicked it repeatedly.  The one with the dog leash clicked three times, the other four. That one carried an armored tablet computer which he kept checking as they walked.

“Won’t it still be light at 1700?” the dog handler asked in a whisper.

“Yeah, but Control wants us to get in the groove with all our gear long before this Brutal Asset guy can get here.  That’s why the drones are going up in a half-hour.  The drone drivers will have baseline reading on all their sensors long before the action starts.  They’ll be alert to the littlest thing.”

“Is all this really necessary?  I mean, that little girl just got here a couple hours ago.  How’s this asset guy supposed to find her so fast?”

“You pay attention to anything, Razor?  They don’t know how he does what he does, just that he does it.  The whole kidnap team is gone—dead.  The guys in the armor barely bought the others enough time to get the kid airborne.”

“Doesn’t seem real.  I mean, those suits are the bomb!  How’s some unarmed dude gonna fuck them up?”

“That’s the whole point of this clusterfuck.  Get him and get his secrets.  Now shut the fuck up and let’s stay frosty.”

They moved on, the odd dog ignoring the humans and concentrating on the forest scents and sounds.  On the far side of the perimeter, another team was working along a similar path.  Grim formed a plan and explained it to the big wolf in short, clipped words.  Then he/I climbed a tree and started hopping across the canopy, tree trunk to tree trunk, till we were in a big oak above the patrol trail.  The tree had widespread limbs that overshadowed a big section of potential paths the next patrol might take.  In fact, from up in its limbs, it was easy to see the disturbed leaf litter from multiple passes by the two teams.

Ten minutes later,  another pair of men with a mutant dog approached the tree.  They kept quiet, staying sharp and alert.  Never looked up, though.  People just don’t look up that much. The dog didn’t, either.  And I/me/Grim had done all our moving up high, so we hadn’t left a scent trail for the dog.

Their path under the tree wasn’t perfect, but it was close enough.  A sudden memory of me in an aluminum air duct, watching two bearded men with assault rifles who were surrounded by hundreds of scared kids flashed through my head.  Then I was falling, faster than gravity alone could propel me.

The first guard died when my boot broke his neck.  But his body crumpling under mine forced me to recompose my position.  I rolled and came up just as the second soldier started to turn, his nasty-looking rifle muzzle moving my way.  The dog was faster, already headed for me with jaws open.

Part of me was outraged.  Dogs aren’t supposed to bite me; that’s my unspoken agreement with them.  But another part of me recognized that this wasn’t an average dog.  It was much bigger, with a much smaller skull and a collar that was as much computer as it was neck restraint.  I don’t like hurting dogs, but Grim has no such qualms.  If it’s a threat to me or mine, it’s dead.

Turns out, it wasn’t my dilemma.  A massive, pony-sized black-and-tan beast slammed the dog away at the same time my hand grabbed the fore-end of the gun and my other hand palm-heeled the dog handler in the chest.  The stubby gun shuddered with a soft ripping noise, the tree behind me exploding bark and wood chips in a cloud.  My right hand struck again, a short, sharp knife-hand strike to his throat, which in the movies is guaranteed to knock a man unconscious.  Grim is not a movie aficionado, more of a field-manual-and-hands-on kinda guy.  His karate chop snapped the spine, crushed the larynx, and split most of the neck muscles.

Head flopping on a spaghetti neck, the body collapsed to the ground.  I got the guy's finger off the gun and looked it over while noting that the mutant devil dog’s corpse was drumming out its death dance under Awasos’s jaws.

The gun had few moving parts, a battery pack in the pistol grip, and a tiny muzzle opening—like two millimeters or something.

I found a latch, and the whole top of the gun hinged upward in the same way as the breech of a belt-fed machine gun.  Underneath was a hopper of sorts that appeared to be stacked with hundreds of tiny flechettes, miniature metal arrows, which alternated silver and dull gray in color.

Another memory intruded.  Black-clad soldiers with boxy rifles that shot hypersonic rounds using magnets.  Gauss guns. This one was much more refined and elegant than the ones in my flashback.  I left the gun alone, not knowing its secrets, tucking it into the oak tree alongside their bodies, which hung from various tree limbs.  I did take their sidearms, a Kimber .45 and a Berretta .40.  Guns seemed like a good idea, and my Grim side approved.  I also grabbed the tablet I found tethered to broke-neck’s belt.  It had a display showing a map of the area.  The perimeter line was marked with several buildings, a runway, and a heliport in the center.  The runway ran east and west, like an old-fashioned thermometer lying on its side, the bulb of mercury the helipad.  The buildings were clustered at the west end, as was the helipad.  A big square building marked hangar was tucked on the south edge of the heliport, and another structure marked cabin was to the north.

We had less than twenty minutes before the drones went up.  It would be very hard to hide from the electronic and optical sensors of a modern UAV, even a small one, and I did not want us out in the open when they launched.  Grim knew we could knock a drone down, even if I didn’t know how, but all element of surprise would be gone.  They were expecting me, just not yet.  Probably had people observing the Murray hotel and thinking that I was with Tanya and her crew as they headed this way.

We moved inside the perimeter, travelling fast.  The tablet display updated automatically with information from various sensors spread around the woods.  Apparently, the tablet talked to the sensor and caused it to disregard the tablet’s presence.  Sweet.  Like a passkey through the zone alarms.

The woods ended at a large clearing that was completely surrounded by a ten-foot chain-link fence.  Inside was the short, private airstrip, the hangar building and a log cabin.  The hangar was a big square, maybe fifty feet by fifty feet, and had a hunter’s blind of sorts, centered on the highest point of the roof. My vampire-virus-assisted eyesight showed me two sniper types hunkered inside it.  With Barrett .50 caliber rifles and a clear line of sight in all directions.

That was the bad news.  The good news was that the hangar was the closest building to the edge of the forest.  Toni must have gotten scared at that moment—more scared—as a sudden image of her in a concrete room with bars intruded.  The pull was downward, below my feet.  Of course it couldn’t be easy.  Of course she couldn’t be in the log cabin—no, she had to be under it somewhere.

We moved closer to the hangar till we were just inside the woods directly opposite the hangar and the sniper blind.  The two snipers were facing opposite directions, each scanning a field of fire that took in half of the clearing.  Although the closest place a person could hide was the exact spot we were crouched in, they didn’t so much as glance our way.  Me… I’d be watching that danger zone something fierce.  Then I spotted the white plastic housing of a motion detector mounted on the top of the chain-link fence facing our way.  Anything stepping into the clearing would trigger an alarm, giving the snipers plenty of time to trigger .50 caliber death.  The fence was ten yards from the forest, the hangar fifty yards from the fence.  The side of the blind that faced us was armored with an angled plate of steel that would give the two behind it cover from anyone attempting to snipe them.  Clever.

It seemed like a pretty good setup to me, and I wondered what Grim could do to get past it.  He sent a silent mental snort my way, unimpressed.  My right hand came up, and a focused burst of aura blasted across the thirty feet between me and the motion detector. The blinking red light on its face went dead, and we were running—fast. 'Sos loped beside me as I leaped once into the clearing and once again, completely over the fence and the now-defunct detector.

I jumped onto the hangar roof while 'Sos ran around to the front of the hangar.  One sniper glanced my way in time to catch my index finger through his temple.  I memory flashed on a female assassin in running gear dying the same way.

The other sniper never even registered my presence, his eye staying glued to the massive scope on his rifle.  Grim went for a neck choke but squeezed my arm muscles too hard.  The man’s spine separated inside his neck, the vertebrae popping apart like cheap costume pearls on a toy necklace.  High in the sky to the southwest, I heard the drone of a small plane, but it seemed to be travelling north and not directly near this installation.  I watched it nonetheless.  Something about it captured my attention for a moment, a familiar pull in its direction.  Glancing at the helipad, something else caught my eye.  Two giant rectangular outlines carved into the concrete.  Doors—giant concrete doors that opened to the sky.

A trapdoor on the floor of the blind led inside the hangar ceiling, bringing me to a catwalk and then a ladder down.  I just jumped off the catwalk, landing as quietly as possible.  A short woof told me my landing had been heard, but by friendly ears.  Moving around the Bell 406 helicopter that took up most of the hangar floor, I found a man wearing mechanic’s coveralls dead in a pool of blood, his throat gone, head hanging by a thread.  Another man, this one wearing a pilot jumpsuit, was backed up against the side of the copter, frozen in fear.

Massive jaws a foot from his throat kept him from making big movements, but his body shook with involuntary twitches of terror. 'Sos had taken a prisoner.

The pull from the single engine plane’s last location grew stronger, rapidly increasing in strength till my head turned itself away from the shivering pilot and toward the front of the open hangar.

A blue blur flashed from above but made only the smallest of sounds as it hit the ground in the form of a crouched person.  A female person, one I knew the identity of without looking.  But I was looking… straight into a pair of the bluest eyes ever made.  Her stretchy body suit was a lighter blue, a sky blue.

Standing upright, Tanya pulled off the matching blue helmet and shook her thick black hair free.  Then she blurred and was in front of me, inspecting me from head to toe.

“You’re a mess,” she said simply, smiling at my appearance.  Looking down, I could see why.  My clothes were torn and stained.  Food on my shirt and right jeans leg, blood—other peoples’—on my hands, mud and vegetation stuck to my boots.

“What’s that?  Blood?” she asked, suspicious of a red stain on my tee shirt.

“Ziti,” I answered in my own voice.  The transitions between Grim’s control and mine seemed smoother, more natural.

“Who is that?” she asked, nodding toward the pilot who watched us, his twitches of fear even greater now.

“The pilot that snagged Toni from Owls Head Park.”

She flashed across the hangar floor, a blue blur.  He jumped involuntarily at her appearance right up in his face.  Her humor was gone, replaced by a predator’s focused stare.  Despite her physical attractiveness, he couldn’t meet her gaze.

“What is this place?” she asked, her voice deceptively soft.

“Decommissioned missile silo.  Old Atlas F facility.  The doors there in the helipad are for a single missile magazine,” he said, looking away from her, then back.

“So it belongs to the government?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Sold to private owners years ago.  They tried to renovate it into an end-of–the-world, apocalypse-type place, but ran out of money.  Agents in rebus bought it from them through a shell company.”

“And my goddaughter is down there?” she asked in a deadly voice.  If he was frightened before, his was pissing-pants terrified now.

“Y-yes.  It’s a t-trap for him.  But you’re not supposed to be here yet.  They thought they would have to leave out some clues or something.”

“How do we get in?”

“The entrance is inside the cabin.  There’s also an escape hatch behind it that comes up in the little shed, but that’s bolted shut from inside,” he said, the very picture of cooperation.

“Guards?”

“Four or five in the cabin.  That’s their barracks.  Another three or four in the control room under the cabin.  Tunnel leads to the silo. Little girl’s at the bottom level.”

“What are the traps?”

“I-I don’t know.  The guards aren’t really expected to slow him down.  You down.  But there’s stuff down there I don’t know much about.  A couple of labs and animals and things.  This base is really a research facility.  The trap part came recently. Under the cabin is a two-story command center.  It has a tunnel leading to the silo, which is about a hundred eighty feet deep and maybe fifty feet in diameter.  There are seven levels.”

She pressed him for more details while I pulled the mechanic’s 9mm Smith & Wesson from his belt, along with a couple of mags.  Tanya handed me the pilot’s gun without looking away from him.  It was another 9mm, a Springfield Armory XD.  I now had four guns and at least one mag extra for each.

The pilot had exhausted his knowledge, having spewed virtually every useful bit of information that he had.  He looked a bit confused at the last of it, like he couldn’t understand why he was divulging as much as he was.  Poor bastard didn’t realize he couldn’t lie to her if he wanted, not with the voice she was using.  I would have felt sorry for him except he had played a major role in kidnapping Toni, so the part of me that felt anything got over it.  Grim didn’t have any qualms.

And Tanya—Tanya felt like icy rage through the conduit we shared.

Finished with her questioning, she gave him one final command.  “Die,” she said, her tone queerly pitched.  He obeyed. Brain aneurysm, heart failure; I’m not sure.  His eyes simply rolled up in his head and his body collapsed on the floor of the hangar.  My ears told me his heart wasn’t pumping blood anymore.  Great!  It was gonna be tough to win any arguments with a girlfriend who could scream drop dead and have it pack a real punch.  I hoped Stacia didn’t get into any arguments with her.  Tanya glanced at me as I thought that. “Wouldn’t work on her.  Too stubborn.  Works on weak-willed people who are already terrified.  Sadly, it would just bounce off your bitch girl.”

She turned away and began to strip off the somewhat baggy blue skydiver suit she wore.  Her special swords were strapped to her back underneath.

“Shouldn’t you have a parachute or something?” I asked.

“There’s a technique where you jump from a plane and glide in a free fall toward your target.  As you get closer, you use vamp energy—Lighten and Push, mostly—to slow your descent.  Parachutes aren’t necessary.”

“Could I learn that?” I asked.

“Well, you sorta invented it, with a little help from an elder god, so I suspect you could re-learn it.”

“Apparently I was a pretty cool guy before,” I said.  She slid effortlessly closer, now clothed in jeans, leather boots, and a long-sleeved black shirt that said Lupine Sports on the left breast.

“You certainly are,” she said, leaning in and kissing me softly with lips that could bite or command.

“Not your usual fashion style,” I commented, snaking a hand around her back and pulling her closer.

“The shirt is on loan from the Malleks.  Brock was the pilot of the little plane I jumped out of.  We used Katrina in a wig to replace me so I could sneak up here and keep an eye on your rescue efforts.  But now we have to go get that little girl and explain to people why they shouldn’t take her in the first place.”

Chapter 39

We crossed the paved runway and concrete helipad at full speed.  Our element of surprise had a rapid expiration date, and it was starting to smell.  The mechanic and pilot had been normal humans, unlike the two guys in the woods and the entire kidnap crew, who had faster reactions and greater strength.

The five guys we could hear in the cabin were likely the hopped-up kind, a guess that seemed more likely when we glanced in a window and saw guys popping pills while gearing up for battle.  Digital cammies, more of the flechette guns, and some streamlined-looking body armor getting strapped on at the same time little green pills were being issued to each soldier.

We studied the house, which was laid out like a vacation cabin at a ski resort.  Open floor plan, big freestanding fireplace on a granite base, hardwood floors, and vaulted ceilings.  Much too nice for a bunch of grunts to use as a barracks, even ones hopped up on enhancers.

My link to Tanya was almost humming, it was so intense.  We hardly needed to speak, each knowing what the other was doing or going to do at an instinctual level.  Studying the house took a few seconds, arriving at a plan just a few more.

“I think I got this,” I said.

She looked at me for a moment, then nodded.

Lowering my head, I stared at the ground, channeling all my rage and worry about Toni till it filled me from head to toe.  That wasn’t hard, as I had never stopped worrying about my tiny goddaughter.  Vision almost tinted red from rage, dismay and anxiety maxed out, I walked into the house.  Not rushing, not trying to be especially quiet.

The five soldiers were gearing up around the fireplace.  None of them noticed me as I strolled into their midst.  Their eyes just seemed to slide off me, like they saw but instantly forgot.  Nice to know other people have memory issues, too.

I stepped right into the middle of them.  “Hey,” I said.  To a man, they jerked upright.  I killed them.

Head punch (skull crushed), knife-hand strike to side of neck (spine snapped), palm heel strike to sternum (heart burst), head twist (spinal sever), and backhand fist to side of head (decapitation).

Five strikes, five deaths.  Whatever I was, whatever my reason for being, it wasn’t to kill humans, even enhanced humans—it was too easy.  My prey must be more robust, harder-to-kill.  An image of Toni crying came bursting into my brain.  I brushed aside the kills and looked at Tanya, who had appeared silently in the doorway, 'Sos by her side.  Her head tilted sideways as she studied me, both visually and through our link.

“You protect humans, but not the ones who commit crimes of terror against little girls,” she said, striking right to the heart of my issue.

The house was one story with a partial loft, but a doorway near the garage led down a nicely finished wooden stairway to an underground corridor about twenty feet down.  At the end of the corridor, we found a massive blast door that would give a bank vault fits of envy.  It was standing open, as was the one behind it.  Each door had to weigh multiple tons, and when both were closed, it was hard to imagine what, if anything, could get through them.

“You could,” Tanya said, very softly.  Had I said anything out loud?  Pretty sure I hadn’t.

“No, you could.  It’s hardened steel; your aura would cut through it… with enough time.”

I wasn’t convinced but said nothing as she led the way through the doors and into the missile complex.

Gunfire, or at least flechette fire, greeted Tanya as she stepped through the second blast door, forcing her to accelerate forward and up—to the ceiling.  The weird ripping sound that the guns made stopped at the twin blasts from my borrowed guns.  Grim had slipped back into control and shot the two uniformed men at almost the same instant they started to fire.

The part of me that observed, the one operating with only a partial deck of memories, was yet again surprised by this uber gunfighter ability.  The Grim part moved further into what was obviously a control room for the base’s defenses.  Computers, monitors, and comm gear set up like a mini-NASA Mission Control lined one side of the room.  The center was dominated by a big spiral staircase that went down to the next level, winding around a giant funnel of dark concrete that had been dyed to look like granite.   Tanya took a flat black box from her pocket, pressed a button on it, and dropped it on a desk.  “Cell phone signal repeater.  The others are on their way, and I need to get their call when they get here.”

“Cool,” I said, admiring it without touching.

“One of the Coven companies makes it,” she explained.

I paused at the top of the stairs, listening.  A picture formed in my head, like a 3D version of a fish-finder readout.  Three guys down there, hiding in ambush, one behind a computer cabinet, the other two behind a flipped-over desk.

Flashing down the circular stairs, Grim didn’t give them time to react, shooting on the move.  Three shots, three more dead guys.  The guys behind the desk each took a round through an eye… the eye that had peeked around their respective ends of the desk.  The guy behind the cabinet never moved from concealment, but the 9mm slug that ended him came straight through a gap in the cabinet’s construction and into his head near his right ear.

Tanya and Awasos were right behind me.  Tanya held a black spike in each hand, and I could see a bandoleer with a half dozen more fastened to the crisscrossed straps of her sword sheaths.

She looked mildly annoyed as she took in the three dead bodies.

“Awfully noisy,” was her only comment.

“They already knew we were here,” I said with a shrug.

“Hmmpf!”

The room was laid out as a computer room: banks of server racks and monitors, lots of other stuff I couldn’t identify but that looked techy.  Another passage led off in the direction of the missile silo.  It was dark, all the lights out.  Silly soldiers. Vampires, were bear-wolves and strange hybrid dudes like me love dark places.  Night vision goggles are great, but we got built-in thermal vision, and I have that whole echolocation thing going on.  However, the tunnel was a kill zone and my Gramps always said that incoming fire has the right of way.

A cluster of soldiers awaited us at the end of that tunnel, armed with those damned needle guns, so we needed something, some trick to get through.  Grim moved me to a stainless steel equipment table, dumping the assorted computers and monitors on it to the floor.  Then he went to the fire extinguisher on the wall or, actually, to the plastic tube with the words Fire Blanket.

The rectangle of rubberized, heavy duty fabric went over the metal table top, held in place by the table’s own metal legs, which Grim bent like paperclips.  I/me/him handed the table to Tanya, the bent legs making handy holders.  She raised one exquisite eyebrow at me but then nodded and took the table.  My borrowed 9mms reloaded with fresh mags, I found my body making an after you gesture to my vampire.  Grim had a sense of humor?  That was… disturbing.

Tanya gripped the table after re-bending the legs to suit her stature, then started down the tunnel, moving only newborn vampire fast. Immediately, a storm of flechettes began eating into the thick metal table, but the fire blanket robbed the high velocity needles of enough energy to prevent their penetration.  And we didn’t really loiter.  Just a high speed rush down the tunnel and into the silo.

My guns fired so fast, it must have sounded like machine pistol fire.  Or maybe one continuous shot.  Either way, the people who heard it all died split seconds apart.  Three shots left hand gun, four shots right, each bullet finding a break or gap in armor and helmet.  Tiny orange thermal flares where the heavy military gear this group was wearing lacked coverage.  Throats, mouths, noses, all echo located or thermally spotted by my murderous alter-ego.

Tanya looked the results of my handiwork over, then turned to me with one hand out, chest high, palm toward the floor, and waggled it to show she was so-so with my performance.  I raised one eyebrow at her even as I looked around.  We were on the second level down, which was all living quarters.  Sort of an open plan with military bunks taking up about a third of the circular space.  Two thirds of the floor was made up of individual rooms and two large bathrooms.  At the far side of the floor, a spiral staircase went up one floor to the top level, the one just under the missile blast doors.  We popped up there to make sure it was empty. It was set up as a mini hangar for the smallest one-person helicopter I had ever seen.  Streamlined in a Japanese industrial manner, it looked like a tricked-out office chair with double prop blades on top.

“Oohh.  Hirobo electric.  Good for a hundred miles an hour, almost silent.  Cool,” my vampire said.

The walls around the heli-garage were stacked with gear, tools, and supplies.  It was basically a garage.

The spiral staircase led back down a flight as well, bringing us to the third level, which was lit up normally.  Tanya had reclaimed the needle-proof table, and now she thrust it at me.  “My turn,” she said, loosening the black spikes in their bandoleer holder.  She gave me a sharp shove forward and I took the hint, sprinting ahead with the table held in front.  I went faster than she had, one hand holding the table, the other a 9mm, just in case she missed one.

The now-familiar brapping sound of the flechette guns sounded briefly, a full five firing at once at the beginning of my run.  They fell silent so fast, it was like a volume dial had been turned down.  I stopped at the far end of the room, which was a laboratory, and turned around.  Five black-clad figures lay dead, strewn about the room.  Each had a spike in his or her head, some in the face, others right through the Kevlar helmets they wore.

Tanya gave me a smirk, then set about collecting her spikes.  I looked the room over, and Awasos just padded slowly onto the floor in wolf form, looking bored.

I’m no rocket scientist, but I’d been in enough biology classes in college to know I was in a genetic lab that had a little operating theater in the center.  A small fortune in state-of-the-art research equipment lined the walls around me, including a scanning electron microscope and a machine that I knew was a gene sequencer, mostly because it said it was a gene sequencer right on it.

Level four was another lab, this one geared toward electronic and mechanical systems.  A CAD-CAM computer had the schematics for a suit of the powered armor up on its monitor, like someone had left their work, sudden like.  Awasos ignored the computers and diagnostic equipment, the 3D printers and tool-strewn tables, and went straight to the back of the floor, right up to a closed door.  He lifted his right paw, it shimmered and grew larger and bearlike, and he dug the now four-inch claws into the doorjamb, ripping the metal door open and off with one twitch.

Six people filled the storage room that ‘Sos revealed.  To a person, they exemplified the whole geeky scientist/technician meme.  Lab coats and glasses seemed to be the fashion theme.

I moved closer, and one by one, they switched their terrified gazes from the giant wolf to me. 'Sos masses more than I do in his wolf form, looking like a pony-sized killing machine.  His mouth was bloody, and his expression screamed predator.  Every last member of the science staff of this AIR base grew more afraid as they focused on me.

“Little girl, dark hair, dark eyes.  What lies between me and her?” I asked, voice level and pitched low.  Something must have shown in my eyes because one of the four men pissed himself.  A woman in a lab coat with dark librarian glasses managed to meet my eyes, her heart rate jumping dangerously high.

“T-the floor below this are testing rooms.  There are drones down there, waiting for you.  Hunter-killer designs.  You weren’t expected quite yet.  The drones were going to be used against you up top, in the forest.  Instead, they just turned them loose, set to kill anything that moves.”

“Tell us about them.  Their designs, weapons, flaws.  Anything that will make getting past them easier,” Tanya said, suddenly at my side.

The brain trust flinched at her sudden appearance. The spokeswoman paused, mostly from shock at Tanya’s speed, but Tanya took it as reluctance to speak.

“Listen, the only reason any of you are still alive is because you might have some small value in helping us get our goddaughter back.  We will get her back, but she’s a terrified little girl stripped from her parents.  The faster she gets home, the better we will feel.  You want us to feel better… you really, really do.”

They all froze, frightened senseless at the look in her eyes. Or maybe in mine.  Or possibly in the lava-red gaze of the wolf between us, looking at them.

The library lady had moxie.  She licked her lips, took a breath, and began to speak.

Chapter 40

“The floor below is a series of different test zones," the librarian lady said.  "Kinda like movie sets.  Different types of spaces. An apartment, city street, a mini-forest, like that.  Most of our hunter-killers are aerial, similar to the small recon drones that infantry currently carry only with a small charge of C-4 in them.  One is a multi-fan hover drone with mounted weapons.  None of those will work below.  So we have Spiders, Tanks, and Wasps.”

“Spiders, Tanks, and Wasps. Oh my!” I said automatically.  Tanya gave me a funny glance, then turned back to the nervous scientist, making a go on gesture with one hand.

“Spiders are nine-legged crawlers that can attach to almost any surface.  About the size of a kitten.  Each is armed with three stacked-munition barrels.”

“Stacked what?” Tanya asked.

“Stacked-munitions.  Chemically propelled ballistic rounds that are fired electronically.  No moving parts, fastest rate of fire possible.  We stole the tech from a company called Metal Storm.  Each spider has thirty shots.  There wasn’t time to make many rounds with silver or depleted uranium, so each only has ten of those, alternating.” She drew a breath, pushed her glasses back up on her nose, and continued, her voice taking a lecturing tone.

“The Spiders are fairly fast, but they have four legs to a side. The ninth leg is on the end and acts as a brace for when they fire their guns.  It has to be locked down or the recoil sends them flying.  Tanks are mini-tracked vehicles like little remote-controlled toy tanks.  They are slower, but tough, as they have armor of a sort.  They also carry thirty rounds, but the caliber is larger, more powerful.  Wasps are shaped like their namesakes and have needles that usually deliver a neurotoxin.  Since those don’t affect you, these are filled with silver nitrate.  We didn’t have any spare DU to suspend in a solution, so the Wasps won’t have much chance of hurting you,” she said with a nod in my direction.  “We think the presence of DU in the bullets in their guns will stop you from affecting the Spiders and Tanks with your particle emissions.”

I must have looked puzzled at the last part.  “She means your aura,” Tanya said.

“There are nine Tanks, ten Spiders and maybe twenty of the Wasps,” she said.

“Twenty-two Wasps,” a ginger headed nerd with a big nose interjected.  He immediately looked like he wished he hadn’t said anything.

“We are going to leave our friend up here with you,” Tanya said, patting 'Sos on the head.  “If you’ve lied to us, he will kill you all.”  Under her hand, the wolfy head became ursine and three times larger as he changed to Kodiak mode.  A second scientist pissed his pants at the transformation.

Tanya turned and studied the room, then moved to a pair of modern-looking computer chairs.  They each had a red padded seat and a back rest formed from aluminum that had holes like Swiss cheese.  She ripped the steel uprights that held the backrests off the chairs and flattened out the curved holey aluminum with her foot.  Then she picked them up and held the steel uprights, swiping them through the air like swords or… fly swatters.  After watching her improvise her new weapons, I went to the steel table and cut it in half with one mono-edged hand, giving me two smaller, more wieldy ballistic shields rather than one bulky one.

“The original design had a staircase on either side of the silo, but Director Hasta had them chopped up a year ago.  So to get to another floor, you have to cross the full length of each floor, back and forth.  It’s a pain in the ass to get anywhere if you’re walking.  There is an elevator, but Hasta and Guillotine took it to the bottom.”

“Okay, what’s with all the spear and blade nicknames?” I asked.

The scientists all looked at each other and shrugged.  “It’s their thing—agents in rebus.”

“If you get past the drones… er… when you get past the drones, the next floor down is where we keep the Kongs and Bulks.”

We just looked at her.  The ginger guy spoke up.  “Kongs are modified gorillas—enhanced with human stem cells and controlled by an implanted behavior chip.  Bulks are, or were, humans that have been modified.”  He got nervous and looked at the lead scientist for help.

She cleared her throat. “We have a vampire captive and a werewolf captive down on the lowest level, where your goddaughter is.  We’ve been harvesting virus and blood plasma from them both, killing the virus and injecting a pair of volunteers with repeated doses.  It’s like the pills we give the regular soldiers but they get at least two shots a day, plus we removed some were stem cells and forced them to replicate, then used 3D printing to create additional muscle, which has been grafted to them.  They’re… big.”

“Sounds like a boss fight,” I commented.  One of the nerds nodded vigorously.   “Yeah, like every video game since Duke Nukem.”

“Never mind that. Are you ready?” Tanya asked.

I looped a makeshift shield over each arm and held a reloaded pistol in each hand.  I nodded.

“Let’s do it!” she said.

The single span of stairs led to a fire door.  Tanya grasped the handle and found it unlocked.  She glanced at me, then yanked the door.  I bolted through, senses alert, 3D picture immediately starting to form of the room.  I led with my left hand shield up—which was a good thing, as it immediately took fire from a black, multi-legged nightmare hanging on a doorframe and a squatty little tracked thing that looked like a military version of a nerd’s battle bot.  The Kimber .45 in my right hand spoke three times fast.  The Spider disappeared in a spray of metal, but the bot on the floor just shrugged off the two heavy slugs that slammed into it.  The black metal spike that suddenly speared it was a different story.  Tanya’s throw was strong enough to pin the little killer to the floor long enough for me to smash it with a table shield.  Four quick smacks and it was extinct, and my table was a little bent.

After that, we got busy.  The early action drew most of the other drones our way.  We separated but stayed linked.  Our actions meshed as we drew on each other’s senses and skills.  I shot Spiders while Tanya killed Tanks with spikes and spearing thrusts from her tungsten swords.  Two separate swarms of glittering, insectile, flying mini-drones attacked from opposite sides.  I killed one whole swarm with a burst of aura, and Tanya used one of her flyswatters to spatter most of the other swarm.  Two got through and stung her.  I crushed them with my fingers, then sliced open her arm and shoulder with a knife borrowed from her.  Squeezing each bite, I forced most of the silver fluid out of her, then dribbled my own blood onto the wounds, which immediately healed over.

“Better?”

“Yeah, still a little in me, but not enough to matter.”

We cleared the floor, rooting out another tank and four more Spiders that had not come to attack but instead hung back in ambush.  At the far side, before I could open the stairway door, Tanya’s phone buzzed.  She looked at it, texted a reply, and turned to me.

“The others are here.  They cleaned up the last roving patrol and are following down.  I told them to grab the geeks upstairs.”

Taking another moment, I checked over my guns.  The Kimber had one seven-round mag left and the 9mms were both empty.  I still had the .40 Beretta with one additional mag.  Tanya had recovered three spikes, the others too badly bent or mangled to be useful.  Her swords looked pristine.

The door to the sixth level was different—thicker, more massive.  It had a big electronic lock on it that controlled four giant bolts of steel.  It was locked.  I unlocked it by slicing off the bolts one at a time with a mono-edged finger.  The door swung open, ponderous with mass, and clanged to a halt against the stairway wall.  The revealed room was decked with diamond-pattern steel plates, and the walls were plated a poisonous dull gray that immediately sapped my strength.  Where the fuck had these guys gotten this much depleted uranium?

Nothing happened, so we stepped further into the room.  Four big sections of the plating slid noiselessly aside on two different walls.  Black, empty space.  Then there was movement in one and a huge figure filled the doorway.  Black-knuckled hands like twenty-pound hams silently pressed on the floor as the big male silverback gorilla shuffled out, peering at us with black eyes.  There was movement in the doorway next to it as another ape appeared.  This one studied the first for a second before turning his eyes our way.  On the other wall, a pale form bent over to clear the doorway, and a wall of white flesh stepped out.  Seven-and-a-half-feet tall; four or five hundred pounds of naked muscle turned to look at us.  Bald, with grotesquely mishapen feet and hands, but massively muscled.  He was so heavily built that he had no neck, just trapezius muscles like bridge abutments.  Another figure stepped out, this one a foot shorter and two feet wider.  Also bald and overbuilt, wearing a look of absolute hatred and rage across his features.

“What’s a boss fight?” Tanya asked, eyeing the enemy.

“In every first person shooter video game, there always a stage or stages where the player has to fight an almost invincible opponent or two.”

“Oh,” she said.  The first gorilla roared and charged, his companion thundering behind him.  The Bulks just stood and watched, animal cunning glinting in their eyes.  Tanya and I flipped over the apes, landing in the middle of the room.  The apes slammed to a halt by the stairway door and spun around.  The two Bulks split apart and just like that, we were right in the middle of them.

When fighting multiple opponents, the best idea is to use terrain or your own mobility to make them come at you one at a time.  That looked like it would be a problem up until a giant black-and-tan bear paw came through the stairway door and hooked four-inch claws into one of the gorillas.  The big ape had to weigh six hundred pounds, but he simply flew backward through the door into the darkness, where a roar that shook the building greeted him.

I took Awasos’s distraction as an opportunity to jump to the ceiling and Cling crawl over the shorter Bulk.  His beady eyes tracked me and he squatted, tensing giant leg muscles.  When he jumped, I moved, and his head slammed into the ceiling.  While it was there for a moment, I emptied the Kimber into its skull.  It fell back with a thud, then amazingly sat up, shaking the shattered wreck of its head.  I dropped behind it and emptied the Beretta into its back, about where it should house its heart.  Then I changed mags and walked the last fourteen rounds up its back, busting every vertebrae along the way.  He decided to call it quits at that point and timbered over onto the steel decking.

I looked over at my vampire in time to see her cleave the tall one’s head from his shoulders.  It fell down and landed near both already severed arms.  Bulks zero, heroes two.

The last ape looked confused, unable to decide who to attack or what to do. 'Sos took the decision out of its massive hands by barreling through the door and slamming it to the ground with a pile-driver paw strike.  The ape bounced up, but its five hundred pounds was tiny compared to the more than half-ton bear.  I have no doubt that a regular Kodiak would have killed it, but my supernatural one simply destroyed it.  Three blurring fast paw strikes, and every bone in its body was shattered.

Tanya looked at me as she wiped her swords off on the Bulk’s body.  “Boss fights are kind of a letdown.”

“Gimme a break. They’re video games.”

Chapter 41

The lock on the door to the next level was plated with DU.  “Chrisproof,” I said.  Tanya smirked.

“Not meproof, though,” she said, then she yelled at the lock.  Well not exactly, but I don’t know quite how to explain it.  She leaned close and pursed her lips and made a noise.  Not a scream or a whistle or a word.  A burst of sound.  Some sort of focused and tuned packet of sound.  Whatever.  The result was a pinging noise and a neat, nickel-sized hole through the armored lock.  The door swung open, and we headed down.

The space we entered was unfinished and larger than any of the others.  The original steel framework of the missile’s cradle was visible.  Gargantuan metal springs suspended the entire superstructure to cushion it from bomb blasts up to and including nuclear.  The room was twice the height of the others above it.  We looked down on the open space below and could see it was partially finished with cinderblock and concrete rooms.  The main corridor drove straight to the back of the room where the elevator shaft was visible.  Another corridor jutting off at a ninety degree angle.  Tanya headed toward the back of the room while I took the right-hand path.  A locked metal door blocked off the corridor, and I put my ear to it.

“-don’t look at her, Toni. Look at me.  Hey, have I told you about Chuck Norris?” a male voice said.

There was a sniffle and a voice that cut through me like a laser spoke.  “Only like a hundred times.”

“Did I tell you about the time Chuck Norris fought Superman?  The loser had to wear his underwear on the outside of his clothes,” the male said.

“That’s stupid!” another voice, a young female one, opined.

I tore the door out of its frame and flung it behind me.  Moving at full speed, I was in and across the room immediately.  A floor-to-ceiling barrier of heavy metal bars blocked me from Toni, who was standing with two teenage kids. The body of a female in a black AIR uniform lay on the ground behind the teens.  The woman’s hands were blackened with burns, and her head was twisted almost completely around. A strange, triangular-bladed knife lay by her right hand.

“Mr. Chris!” Toni cried.  My hand tore the cage door and most of its frame away, the steel stretching and tearing like taffy.  I threw the twisted metal away and scoped up my goddaughter so fast, the teens had no time to react.

Toni buried her face in my shoulder while the two kids tried to grasp the situation.  The boy was maybe seventeen and tall, several inches taller than me.  Skinny, in the manner of late teen boys who still have to grow into their frames.  Shaggy black hair and blue eyes that were a little wide right now.

The girl was average height or maybe a little shorter but compactly built, like an athlete.  Brown hair and brown eyes, olive-tone skin, kinda cute in an every-girl kind of way.  Except she was very serious, and she smelled funny.  Not a stinky, forgot-to-shower-for-a-week funny, but a musky wild animal funny.

In a combat situation, Grim flicks through vision modes like he’s changing channels on a slow television night.  He stopped on Sight, eyes focused on the boy—who had flecks of black mixed with his blue aura.  The girl’s aura was blue with greenish tinges here and there about her body.  Not were, but something else.

“You a witch, kid?” I asked the boy.  He frowned.

“Declan, Mr. Chris.  His name is Declan and she is Caeco, and they’re my friends!” Toni declared. “They saved me from that lady there,” she continued, pointing at the body before ducking back into my shoulder.  “Declan can do stuff with electricity and Caeco is fast, at least for a normal girl,” she mumbled from the safety of my tee shirt.

The boy, Declan, was rubbing the fingers of his right hand.  They made a crackling sound as he did it.  He stopped, though, when the girl, Caeco, touched his arm.

“You’re the godfather,” she said to me, her voice even and almost calm, but her heartbeat was accelerated and I noticed tensing muscles in her neck and shoulder.

“Yup.  What happened?” I asked, pointing at the dead blonde lady on the floor.

“I think your arrival caught them off guard.  She came to get Toni and we… interfered."

Most high school kids would be a bit more upset by a dead body, especially one that they had helped make dead.  These were so not the average kid.  Then again, they were being held captive in an AIR base, so maybe I shouldn’t expect that they would be average.

“Mr. Chris, there’s a Darkkin man down thataway, and a wolf guy, too,” Toni said, pointing further down the row of cell doors.  I hadn’t paid a lot of attention once I locked onto Toni.

The ground trembled and a shocking roar came from the ripped doorway behind me.  The kids jumped back and separated, the boy’s hands now crackling with blue sparks. The girl had cleared a free-standing fifteen-foot jump—backward.  Interesting.  Toni squirmed to get down but I held her, instead turning and lifting her up and onto the giant back of the incredibly worried Kodiak bear that was now standing behind me. 'Sos snuffled her, his head bigger than her whole body.  Assured she was okay, he swiveled back to watch the kids.

“Declan, don’t do anything sparky okay?  You’ll just make him mad,” Toni said to the boy, from her perch high atop her grizzly steed.

“Yo?  Everyone alright?” a pretty voice asked.  I turned to find Stacia cradling an Auto Assault shotgun, wearing black cargo pants, boots, and a snug black tee shirt. Her combat pants must have been tailored because they didn’t fit like most soldiers’ pants do.

I raised an eyebrow.

“I’m with the relief force.  We found the mess you left all through this place, so I headed here.  Heard fur face here announcing himself,” she said with a casual nod at the massive bear. “Hey, Toni, you okay?”

“Yes, Miss Stacia.  I told them that they would be sorry.  That Mr. Chris and Miss Tanya would come and 'Sos and everyone and it would be real bad.  I told them that Mr. Chris would be angry,” she said with an anxious look in my direction.

I turned to the beast by my side and grabbed his muzzle.  “You—get her out of here.  Do not stop to fight with anything—got it?  Just kill anything in your way, but head straight out,” I told my bear.  “You—stay on the bear!  Hang on tight, both fists full of fur!” I told Toni.

“You two: follow them and get out.  There will be people upstairs that’ll help you get home,” I told the two shocked teens who were anything but ordinary.

I turned to Stacia, who was watching me and the others with that damned big shotgun braced on one cocked hip.  The boy’s eyes were about to jump straight out of his head at the picture she presented.  “Stewart upstairs?”  She nodded.  “Follow this crew and make sure they all get out all right.  Stewart should meet these guys,” I said, sweeping a hand at the kids who were moving quickly around and away from me.  “I’m gonna find Tanya and have a chat with whoever took Toni,” I said, Grim pulling my voice deeper at the end of my sentence.

“Time to go, everybody.  Grimmy’s gonna smack somebody,” Stacia said, shooing everyone in front of her but still watching me.  She gave me a sharp nod, then followed her charges out.

I turned and went back out to the main corridor, following the bond that pulled me to my vampire.

Chapter 42

I found her at the end of the corridor, near the elevator.  A wall of transparent glass or Lexan or something sealed us off from the people on the other side.  It was like a big box of glass, only one story tall, but its top was sealed with more thick glass, like a big rectangle of aquarium material. The elevator shaft came down from above and opened into the glass room.

A man and a woman stood inside the box, staring at my vampire. Tanya was trying to figure out how to get in.  The glass nearest her was battered and chipped, but intact.  The man was in his early fifties, bald but for a crown of gray hair, sporting a van dyke mustache and beard—the pointy kind that only skinny-faced men can pull off.  He had the right face for it, thin like a hatchet blade.  He was average height and looked fit for his age, wearing an immaculate two-thousand dollar suit.  The jacket was off, showing his white shirt, snappy suspenders, and a paisley tie.

The woman was blonde, taller than Tanya by a couple of inches, and dressed like a Fed in a pantsuit, complete with holstered gun.

“Ahh, Chris.  I wondered when I would see you,” the blonde greeted me with a nasty smile, her voice issuing from a speaker mounted high above us.  She was standing in front of a big spray-painted pentagram, the center of which was missing and replaced by the greasy black of Hell.  “You don’t remember me, do you?” she asked, her smile widening.  “Wow, that sniper I hired did a better job than I thought.  I’m Briana Duclair.  We’ve got some history, you and I. From before I came to work for Director Hosta here.  It’s a good gig.  Great toys, lots better pay, and not so many pesky rules and procedures.”

“Agent Gulliotine, please introduce me to our guest,” the man said, his eyes never leaving me.  Despite his calm voice, a bead of sweat had formed on his brow.  The two-inch-deep sword gashes and starred impact damage in the thick plastic glass might have been the cause of that.

“I found them here, locking themselves in,” Tanya said.“Bullet-resistant glass, nine inches thick.  Even the door,” she said with a nod at the only visible way into the room besides the elevator.  She was completely focused on the task of getting at the two behind the glass.

“As I told you, Hosta, the woman is a rather special vampire and he is her… mate?  Boytoy?  Lunch?” Duclair said, her tone snarky but her eyes showing just a hint of worry. “If you recall, I think I was pretty clear that if you drew him in, you’d get her, too.”

“Well, yes, it seems that this whole project was more… involved than we imagined,” Hosta replied, still watching us but darting quick glances at the Hellgate.  I noticed a smear of dried reddish material on one wall.  Blood?

“You’re standing next to an open portal to Hell,” I said.

“Yes, well, not an ideal saferoom, but one makes do when one has to.  I’m now thankful that we had the foresight to build this containment room so well.  Sometimes, one avenue of research provides a benefit for others.”

“We’re not here to listen to any monologuing.  Christian, please cut through this stuff,” Tanya asked.

Aura-formed mono-edge flickered on my right arm.  I speared through the Lexan with one really hard strike.  Man this stuff was tough, but it would cut with the right edge.

Hosta and Duclair jumped backward, both thoroughly alarmed.

“I told you this was gonna go down the shitter!” Duclair said, turning to her cell phone.  She opened an app while I began to open the wall.  Looking highly stressed, her fingers fluttered over the app.  Something whirred to life overhead.  I looked up.  So did Tanya.  Damn!  Why didn’t I look up sooner?  Just like the patrol in the woods, I had forgotten to check above.

The massive metal Spider had at least twelve legs and hung upside down from the metal superstructure two stories above our heads.  Four feet long, it had at least six long gun-barrel-like tubes sprouting from its back, and all six were swiveling to lock onto Tanya and me.

I yanked my arm from the wall while Tanya whipped a silver spike at the metal tarantula.  The guns began to fire, and six inch bolts of silver or dull gray flashed at both of us simultaneously.

Tanys’s spike hit and stuck but didn’t stop the metal beast.  I was racing clockwise around the wall, a string of mini-arrows appearing in the thick plastic millimeters behind me.  The Spider shuffled its dozen legs as it twisted in an effort to keep both targets locked under its sights.

The gun barrels moved on tiny mounts that only had to change millimeters to reap the benefit of several feet of adjustment.  The barrels were some variation of stacked munition, firing at electronically fast speeds.  The combined result was computer-controlled targeting at a speed that actually threatened our survival.  In fact, if Tanya’s spike hadn’t blocked one of the gun tubes, it might have already hit one or both of us.

My vampire is not patient with attackers, be they flesh or metal.  She doesn’t subscribe to the run-away-and-fight-again club.  She threw another spike and followed it with herself, tungsten sword swinging for the Spider’s body.

Her first spike, the blocking one, fell free from the hole it had punched, and the guntube, previously hindered, now swung around toward the attacking vampire.  My vampire. I didn’t think, I didn’t plan.  I just leapt. I used every bit of power in me, every Push and Pull of vampire energy I could manipulate, to physically impose myself between her and the burst of high-velocity bolts.

My free-flying body passed over hers.  Our eyes locked as I went by and she kept flying straight in.  They stayed locked as pain flared across my back and across my left shoulder.  They stayed glued as her sword continued its swing and as I hit the opposite wall.  Then my eyes shut and I fell in an awkward clump to the ground.

I heard the spider’s demise as I worked to get one arm under me and sit up.  I couldn’t seem to get my left arm to work properly, but my ears heard her gasp as she landed softly behind me.  Strong arms turned me over and our eyes met again, but just for a second.  Then hers broke away to look at my chest.  They widened in fear.  I looked down at myself.  The dull gray point protruding from my sternum was covered with dark red blood, and since I could no longer hear any beating in my chest, I imagined that must be the color of heart blood. So red.  I looked back into her eyes one final time before my eyes fell shut.  I died.

There was no dark tunnel with a light at the end. I was just simply there—in a great, beautiful place of sunlight and music.  My Brothers were lined up in two rows to either side of me, glorious beings of gold and silver, almost too bright to look upon.  They welcomed me with song, a song without sound, but rather of vibration.  It was felt not heard, flowing from everywhere and nowhere. It told a story of battle and war.  The never-ending conflict, the Forever War.  I was home, where I belonged, where I had never thought to be again.

“Be welcomed, Malahidael!  You have returned to us.”  The Brother who spoke to me was more gold than silver, more gold than the others.

After a moment, I knew his name.  “Michael!”

“Yes, Brother, but we have much to discuss and little time.  And you must know that you cannot stay. This is not your time.”

Confused, I glanced behind me, but I couldn’t see where I had come from.  Still, I knew that She was there, somewhere back there.  I understood. I nodded.  “But when I go back, may I ask a boon?”

He raised one golden eyebrow then laughed and nodded, even as he understood my need. He began to talk.

I gasped and sat bolt upright, then gasped again at the searing pain. My chest felt like liquid fire, every breath acid. Any further attempt at movement was blocked by bands of fleshy steel.  “Stop it, you idiot! Stop moving,” she said, her voice trembling.

Tanya’s worried face met mine, her harsh words negated by her tear-streaked cheeks.  Her hands were bloody, as was my chest where my tee shirt had been ripped open.  A small pile of silver and gray arrow-shaped rods lay in a pool of blood by my side.  A tiny wound on Tanya’s wrist healed itself as I watched. I looked down at the bonfire on my chest, expecting ruin and horror.  But the flesh was smooth, yet covered in blood.

I hurt, a lot.  But I could move.  My brain was spinning up fast, part of it observing my surroundings, but another, less-used part, was running numbers.  Calculations.  Algorithms and equations that my observational side could not identify.  I was also aware that part of me was Pulling something—an immense weight from above.

Slowly, supported by my best half, I sat up.  Then stood up.

The Spider lay in three pieces on the ground. Well, more than three, but there were only three pieces big enough to recognize.  The rest was smashed beyond recognition.  The two people behind the glass wall were watching with dismay and fear.  I ignored them, still looking around. The elevator shaft behind the glass room seemed to have taken damage.  More spider parts were strewn across the top of the glass room.  Shuffling across the floor, I picked up a likely looking chunk of Spider and wedged it into the door frame, locking them in.

“What are you doing?” Duclair asked.  I turned to look at her, and so I saw when it happened.  In her fear, she had strayed across the pentagram and now stood right on the edge of the Hellgate.  Her eyes were watching me, so they didn’t see the tentacle that lashed up from the greasy black and wrapped around her ankles.  Her eyes had time to widen, then she was gone, yanked straight to Hell.

Hosta was as suddenly at the door, trying to get out, but my Spider lock worked great.

“Come on.  We gotta leave—now,” I told my vampire, heading back up the corridor.  Lydia and Arkady met us as we got to the stairs.

“We found a vampire and a were in cells. They’re both headed out now.”

“As are we, Lydia.  We don’t have much time.  Nine minutes and twenty-seven seconds, to be exact.”

“Till what?” Lydia asked.

I didn’t answer but just started up the stairs, my brain still humming with math.  Tanya picked up on my urgency and literally tossed me to Arkady, who carried me like an invalid.  Our speed picked up, and we were topside in twenty seconds.

Four Blackhawk helicopters were parked on the runway, blades spinning.  Armed soldiers in cammies ringed the perimeter of the facility.  Director Stewart and his assistant moved toward us.  We met them and moved right on past, making them swing around to follow.  I headed to the nearest helicopter.

“What’s going on?” Stewart asked.

“We have eight minutes and forty-nine seconds to get at least a mile from this spot.  Anything or anyone here after that is dead,” I said.  “I suggest you grab what you’ve managed to get your hands on, load everyone up, and let’s get the f outta here.”

Not waiting for an answer, I shuffled my way to the Blackhawk that had Toni in it, my wolf-bear sitting next to her, Stacia still buckling her in.

Stewart looked from me to Tanya, who nodded, then spoke to his assistant.  Two minutes and seven seconds later, we took off.  All four birds headed south, fast.  We cleared my one-mile mark in less than a minute.  We were a full five miles away when the crew chief yelled into his mike, alerting us to the speck of light in the sky to the west. My calculations had stopped and I could feel that part of my brain fall back asleep.

The dot grew rapidly as we watched, turning into a white-hot streak that seemed to be moving slowly, then suddenly became a flashing blur before disappearing below the treetops behind us.

A moment later, a fireball rolled up to the clouds and a concussive wave tried to brush us from the sky.  The pilot fought the controls like a bronco rider, and then it was past.

Stewart turned to me from his position across the flight cabin.  “What did you do?” he asked, horrified.  The others all watched me as well: Lydia, Stacia, Arkady, Adine Benally, Toni, Tanya, and even 'Sos.

“I made a statement,” I said, leaning back and closing my eyes.  I was never very good at math and it always made my head hurt.  Now, I had the mother of all headaches. It didn’t stop me from falling deeply asleep, though.

Epilogue

Metal bleachers are always the same—cold and hard.  These were no different, just a short, eight-tier set of aluminum butt busters set on the side of a standard soccer field.  Gina, Roy, and I sat near the top, watching the boys and girls of Toni’s club team scramble around the field.

It looked pretty official, with both teams sporting expensive uniforms and two adult referees in black and white.  A little overboard if you ask me, but hey, I guess there are worse things for people to spend their money on.

The fat guy two rows below me was reading a tabloid newspaper, and I was shamelessly reading over his shoulder between watching plays on the field.  A week after impact and it was still full of asteroid crap.  Citizens call for plan—Senators demand investigation of anti-asteroid program—Russian president claims the strike was a US conspiracy to blame them.  On and on like that.  I even saw Bigfoot dodges space born assassination attempt.  Pretty good pictures, though.  The front page had an aerial shot of the impact crater, circled by flattened trees.  Lots of experts and pundits opining about a whole lotta this and that.  Estimated energy of the strike, the odds of a small asteroid making it to the surface intact, stuff like that.  But hey, inquiring minds want to know.  None of the stories mentioned a Hell hole buried under a hundred tons of pulverized concrete though.

The ref blew his whistle for like the thousandth time in the first quarter.  They were two overly serious grown men dressed in matching black shorts and striped black and white shirts.  The younger one was the lead ref, and you’d have thought he was the head of Homeland Security, the way he acted.  All puffed up and self-important. And more than a little biased toward the other team.  Our side couldn’t touch the ball without incurring some infraction or the other.  The opponents, however, could probably have stolen a car and gotten away with it.

Roy got up to get some food from the concession stand.  I tried to hand him some money to get me a dozen hot dogs, but he mock glared and waved me off.  The stands shook as he clambered down like a grizzly descending the mountain.  Big guy, that Roy.

“How are your memories?” Gina asked as soon as her husband had stepped away.  Made me wonder if he’d been sent.

“Well, I have a lot more of them.  Mostly jumbled fragments.  But I spent most of a day with Grim out, so I guess I should be grateful I got that many.”

“Give it time.  It’s very encouraging that you get memories from Grim.  How is he, by the way?”

“He’s close.  Always close.  Like something shifted,” I said, trying to put it into words. “He’ll offer suggestions about how to handle day-to-day stuff, like an old lady driving too slow in front of me.  You know, like to ram her rear left quarter panel and spin her off the road. I try and explain that would be inappropriate.”

“You’re integrating him.  Which is great… as long as you still know that his regular ideas are generally bad ones.”

The pumped-up ref called a foul on Toni.  She was left forward offense, and apparently, she kicked the ball too hard or something.  He awarded possession to the other team.  A couple of guys on our side yelled about him needing glasses.  A father from the other team in the bleachers fifty feet to our right yelled "Good call.”

“How did Stewart make out?” I asked, curious after seeing a picture in the fat guy’s paper of the president talking to reporters.  Nathan Stewart was in the background of the picture, leaning on his cane.

“The President put him in charge of rolling up the AIR people.  Those scientists and all the computer stuff that got grabbed before you blasted the base gave him all kinds of information.  That girl that helped Toni?  Caeco?  She and her mother escaped from another lab out in New Mexico.  We rolled that one up, too.  Lots of hybrid, gene-splicing work going on there.”

“What’ll happen to those kids?”

“Nothing.  They’re back home in Vermont, although Stewart is working on creating a special school.  A college for uniquely talented kids.  He’s going to offer full rides to those two.”

“A special college for mutant kids?  How Stan Lee of him.  Who’s he gonna get to run it?” I asked.

She didn’t answer right away.  Super ref blew his whistle again because one of our players had the temerity to take the ball away from the other team.

“Hey ref… you got money on this game?” one of the wisecrackers on our side yelled.  It actually wasn’t a funny question.  The ref was so damned biased, it was ridiculous.  I was starting to really, really dislike the guy.

I glanced at Gina, who still hadn’t answered.  “So you gonna take the job or what?”

She smiled.  “Tanya already told you, didn’t she?”

“Actually, it was Lydia.  Sounds like a pretty neat job, though.  Raising the next generation of bonafide superheroes.  You’d be really good at it.”

“Thanks.  What about you and Lailah?” she asked.  “I mean Tanya.”

“No, you didn’t.  Who blabbed?”

“Both Tanya and Lyd.  But did you really think I hadn’t guessed a long time ago?”

“How could you guess when I didn’t even know?” I asked.  “When I still have trouble believing.”

“Because the clues were all there:  unheard of exorcism power, visions from God, the ability to call His Collector of Souls at will, the very tone that sounds when you do.  Lydia and I speculated since I’ve known you.  That you were self-Fallen and that you and Tanya were matched from the beginning.”

“You even thought Tanya was… you know?”

“What, you can’t say it?  Angelic?  Yeah, let’s see, born from an impossible birth, the ultimate vampire but the first human she killed traumatized her for fifteen years, she’s the ultimate predator, yet she babies my baby.  And she was matched to you from the instant of your meeting.  We figure something like that.  Which brings me to this:  what’s your next step?”

I pondered that, taking my time before answering.  Yeah, shocker, I know.  On the field, Toni’s teammate was taking a corner kick, and Toni attempted to head it in.  She got hair on the ball, but it slid off the wrong way and the goalie grabbed it.

“When I… died, I had a meeting of sorts.  Got my… our marching orders. A Mission from God to paraphrase the Blues Brothers. The days of randomly running around exorcising demons have to stop.  We have to get more organized.  Those Hellgates?  There’s going to be more of them.  And things are already coming through the ones we haven’t closed.  It’s more than I can handle on my own.  So Tanya and I will bring in others, train them, and coordinate.”

She nodded.  “A team approach, then?”

“Yeah, not sure of the particulars, but the Coven will help.”

“Oh?  Senka cooperating, then?”

I laughed.  “Something about a ten ton asteroid that gets people’s attention.”

“You did that?  By yourself?”

“Nah.  I had help.  My Brothers,” I replied.  “They can’t intercede directly, but if I want to shuffle things around up in space, well, they don’t see that as directly interfering.”

A player on the other side made a dangerous kick, and one of our kids went down.  It was really blatant, but the ref didn’t call it.  Most of the parents were starting to speak up now.

Grim made a suggestion.  I liked it.  Out on the field, the ref suddenly fell down like someone had kicked him behind the knees.  He jumped up, furious, but there wasn’t anyone to blame.

Straightening his suddenly muddy uniform, he blew the whistle for the other team to kick.  The ball came off the player’s foot and hit the ref right in the face.  He was bright red now.

Gina watched, then slowly turned her head to me.  I pretended innocence.  Roy arrived like the Calvary, complete with rescue hot dogs.  “Did you see that?  That asshole ref got hit right in the mouth.  And his spiffy outfit is all muddy from falling down.” Roy was laughing as he handed me a bag of delicousness.

“I better share some of these with my pal,” I said.  Roy nodded understanding, and I just pretended not to see Gina’s narrowed gaze.

My borrowed Toyota SUV was parked behind us, backed up against the fence that protected the soccer field.  I remotely opened the tailgate and handed a half dozen franks to the beast lying inside.  Awasos ate them in quick gulps, his attention on the game—or, at least, one brown-haired little attacker.  A bigger boy pushed Toni down, which elicited a growl from 'Sos.  It happened right in front of the stands, and parents started yelling at the ref.  Instead of carding the kid, the idiot flashed his yellow flag at the coach for our team, pointing at the parents and getting into a yelling match with the coach.

A gust of wind caught the penalty flag and yanked it from the ref’s hand.  It floated across to land by my feet.  I picked it up and held it to 'Sos’s nose while holding the ref’s eyes with my own.  Then I walked it forward, leaning over the fence to hand it to the asshole.  I let Grim peek out at him, absurdly self-satisfied with the shade of gray he turned.

Gina was behind me when I turned around, arms crossed, eyes tight.  “What are you doing?  With everything you are, you are supposed to protect people… not hurt them.”

“Even assholes?  Cause I don’t want to help the assholes,” I said.

Despite herself, Gina laughed.  “Yes, even the assholes.”

“Well, it’s your fault.  You made me her godfather.  So I will protect her more than others.”

Behind her, Awasos jumped down from the back of the SUV, the back end lifting up noticeably as his weight left the car.  He yawned and then headed into the parking lot, big nose sniffing cars, looking for one in particular.  He found it, a shiny red BMW convertible.  His big brown eyes met mine and flashed lava red as his hind leg lifted over the radiator grill.  I felt Grim flash back and immediately had a memory of a bar parking lot in Asheville.

I looked back at Gina.  “Not very Angelic, huh?”

“Most people don’t realize that Angels aren’t fluffy creatures of love and happiness.  Your Brethren are usually God’s Enforcers,” she said.  “But you have a lot more to worry about than some referee at a kids' game.”

No shit.  A plague of portals straight to hell, a gorgeous uber-vampire that I needed to get to know for the second time, a beautiful werewolf friend who was crushing on me (and might get crushed by the vampire), agents of Oracle looking to control my skills, a witchy primer for mass destruction to protect, Elder vampires toying with my life, and a team to build to close the Hell holes.

Out on the field, the ref suddenly spotted 'Sos peeing on his car.  He turned away from the game and completely missed Toni’s cross to center, where her teammate kicked a goal.  The crowd erupted in cheers and the asshat ref turned back as his partner called a goal.  Toni looked in the stands to see if we were watching, then spotted us near my ride.  We waved back at her excited face.

“But Gina, I only have one goddaughter, and I will always do what it takes to protect her,” I said, quietly.

“Heaven help them if they try again,” Gina said.

“Oh, I can guarantee that Heaven isn’t going to help,” I said, resting my hand on the massive head that leaned over the fence.

The End.

Author’s Note:

Just a couple of thoughts.

It’s been said that Chris is too powerful.  That it’s difficult or impossible to challenge him.

My mother passed away while I was writing Fallen Stars, the victim of a nine year struggle with Alzheimer’s.  There’s a challenge for you.  Once that disease has its hooks in you it’s just a matter of time, wrapping around your brain like an anaconda, crushing neurons till you forget how to breathe.

Chris is immune to disease, but not immune to a .30 caliber chunk of lead and copper moving at 2600 feet per second.  What do you do when your memories are simply gone?  How do you relearn what you used to know?  How do you change in the process?  Are you still you?

Two people in my life have battled memory and skill loss brought on by subdermal hematomas within the last 3 years.  A simple fall, the impact of a hard object on the head, and life is turned upside.  Speech, simple motor skills, childhood memories are all at risk when your brain is traumatized.  Relearning how to speak at sixty years of age—that’s a challenge.

So Chris will always have his challenges, they’re just not always going to be super villians and physical combat.

If you’re interested in how I view Chris when he’s in Grim mode, just listen to Disturbed’s song Indestructible.  I think of Grim every time I hear it.

I need to thank Ryan Bibby for his awesome artwork, and Susan Gottfried for undertaking the daunting task of making my writing readable.  Of course, my wife and girls support me 100%. If I fall, they’ll catch me.

I especially need to thank my fans for reading my little stories and writing me their thoughts and impressions.

And last, but not least, thanks, Mom, for making me read out loud after dinner every night until I realized that I didn’t hate reading but, in fact, loved it.  You will not be forgotten.

Chris, Tanya, Awasos, and company will be back in Forced Ascent.