by Val Tobin
Hound Dog, his nose bloody, wrested control from the guard, grabbed his head, and bashed it against the wall. The man dropped to his knees and then face-planted to the floor. Rachel snatched her gun from the floor while Hound Dog retrieved his, but as they turned to race through the door, a bullet hit Dog in the back of the shoulder. He yelped and fell to the ground.
Rachel ducked, flipped a table on its side, and, crouching behind it, returned fire in Pattenden’s direction. All else in that area had fallen silent. Stefan lay dead—she’d seen the monster ripping him to pieces—and, based on the lack of snarling and growling, Pattenden had killed the monster.
“Dog, you good?” She needed him to say something.
“Yeah, flesh wound.” His voice, drifting in from outside the door, remained steady, but as soon as he stopped talking, he panted to catch his breath.
“Give up, Captain. You’re outnumbered and we’ve got the door.”
“Do you?”
“We fuckin’ do. Anyone comes into the hallway, Dog, shoot to kill.” Rachel hoped to God no one would show up. She had no desire to blast their way out of here.
How many guards watched the building at night? Two was the norm: one to watch the monitors, the other to patrol the building. After all, what was the point of all that technology protecting the place if you couldn’t depend on it?
Pattenden had been on hand though. Her father had indeed been expecting them. Fat lot of good it’d done him, and Rachel doubted anyone else in the squad conspired in this with the captain; otherwise, they’d have already joined the party.
“What’s the story, Dog? Where’s Peter?”
“I’m here,” Peter replied from the hallway at the same time as Hound Dog said, “With me.”
Rachel belly-crawled to the edge of the table, grabbed the guard she’d knocked out by the ankle, and hauled her body close enough to access the holster in which she kept a cell phone. Rachel snatched up the phone, tapped “Emergency,” and called 911 on the locked device.
“Nine-one-one. What’s your emergency?”
Rachel told the man on the other end exactly what her emergency was.
***
When Hound Dog overheard Rachel talking to an emergency services operator, he thought she’d lost her mind. They were fugitives, as good as jailed for crimes they’d never committed if the cops caught up to them. Then she spoke, and he realized those years she’d worked for her father had taught her all she needed to know about taking control.
Sure, Hound Dog knew she was a leader—an exceptional leader. She’d led protectors into the field and always returned from the hunts successful and with all team members intact. She inspired those she led, and had Pattenden not betrayed them, Rachel likely would’ve been promoted to captain sooner rather than later. But he had no idea she could take charge in the outside world.
As protectors, they lived in a microcosm. The forces that hunted them after they’d escaped the arena existed in the macrocosm he’d always wanted to avoid dealing with. Hound Dog had assumed if they didn’t disappear they’d be jailed. Rachel gave him hope they’d not only avoid that but they’d make a life for themselves without going into hiding.
First, she identified herself as the company owner—which she technically was now that her father lay dead on the floor across the room. Second, she provided details of the situation ambulance and police services would walk into. She made it clear crimes had been committed and Captain Pattenden would need to be interrogated after receiving medical treatment. Finally, she explained they should consider Pattenden an active shooter, contained but still armed.
Once she disconnected the call, she called out to Pattenden. “You’re done, Captain. Put down your weapon, and kick it out where I can see it. Your backup piece too.”
Silence.
“Captain, you heard me call the cops. They’ll be here in minutes. The game’s over. Between me, Dog, and Peter, we’ll have all the evidence we need to put you away and reveal to the world what my father did. Give it up. You need medical attention.”
“I’m not sorry, Needham. Just sorry I was caught. See you on the other side.”
As Rachel shouted “no” and jumped to her feet, a gunshot echoed through the room.
“Rachel, get down,” Hound Dog hollered, assuming Pattenden fired on them again. But no bullet ricocheted off the walls or the table that protected Rachel, and she continued her run for the other side of the room from where the shot had come. By the time Rachel reached the captain, Hound Dog stood and limped to his team leader’s side.
At their feet, Pattenden lay on her back, the gun by her hand, her face blasted away.
“I guess that’s an admission of guilt right there.” He turned his gaze from the captain to Rachel.
She didn’t return the look, her gaze fixed on Pattenden’s body. “Maybe that’s why she did it.”
Hound Dog shook his head. “She didn’t want to go to jail, boss, that’s why she did it.”
“We were friends. Yes, we were,” Rachel insisted when Hound Dog opened his mouth to protest. “I don’t understand why she betrayed me. She must’ve been sorry, at least a little.”
They stood together silently for a moment. Hound Dog broke it. “Let’s go, Frosty. We’ll let the cops know the gunfight’s over. Get help for Peter.”
“And for you.” She raised her head and angled her face toward him. “Peter will win a Pulitzer over this story.”
“I hope so,” Hound Dog replied. “He went through enough for it.
On the way out, they paused by her father’s body.
“He wasn’t vaccinated,” she commented.
“Why?” Hound Dog asked.
“He probably didn’t trust it was safe.” She met his gaze. “Let’s get out of here, Jack.”
Hound Dog put an arm around her shoulder and together they walked from the room in silence.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Eagle’s Nest Lookout afforded a panoramic view of the York River Valley in the town of Bancroft, Ontario. Rachel, Hound Dog, and Peter stood on the wooden, two-tier platform at the top of the cliff at dawn on a frigid December morning. They’d left their car in the small parking lot and hiked the short distance to the lookout. Bundled in layers of winter gear, only their eyes and lips peeked out from inside their ski masks. They all carried handguns, and Rachel and Hound Dog each had a rifle slung over one shoulder. Grendels hibernated in the winter, but that didn’t mean you could let down your guard. Rachel carried the urn containing Jeff’s ashes.
They faced the west, the sun rising at their backs, but since heavy snow clouds obliterated the sky, they only knew day had arrived when they no longer needed their flashlights. Rachel made her way to the upper deck of the lookout and went to the railing overlooking the town of Bancroft.
She’d chosen this place to scatter her brother’s ashes because it had been one of his favourite places to visit when they were kids—before the grendels appeared. Before their mother died. When they still believed their father loved them and wanted what was best for them. They’d been a family, loving each other, supporting each other.
“Our parents brought us up here for picnics,” she began.
Peter joined her on the deck, but Hound Dog remained at the top of the stairs to stand sentry. Even for this solemn ceremony, he’d watch their backs, and Rachel’s heart filled with love for him. She met his gaze in the growing light, and he smiled—not the wide, jovial grin he usually sported but one filled with affection. He’d joined them for this memorial to watch over them as they said goodbye to one they loved who he’d never met.
She swallowed past the lump in her throat and continued. “Jeff and I loved it here. No matter where else we travelled, we had to come back here every summer.” This small cliff hadn’t the majesty of the Canadian Rockies, and the trails weren’t long and winding and remote like the ones in Algonquin Park, but this had always been their special corner of Ontario. Down below, following the curve of Hastings Str
eet on the west side, flowed the York River. They’d spent hours playing in the park. Rachel had always assumed she and Jeff would one day return with their spouses and children.
Her eyes welled up, and the tears trickled down, but she ignored them. Head held high, hands cupped around the urn, she told Hound Dog and Peter about the little boy she’d grown to love who’d become the scientist, the activist, the young man she was proud to call brother. “He was so brilliant. God, we need him. He should be here to help us clean up the mess my father made.” She stopped and gazed at Peter. His story had gone viral.
Going public with what her father had done hadn’t been easy. Rachel continued to get death threats from those who believed she’d been in on the conspiracy, but the truth had come out, and it had literally set her and Hound Dog free. She inherited her father’s company and vowed to undo what he’d done if it took her the rest of her life. Hound Dog had promised to help her, so she’d made him head of security at the research facility.
“Peter, you rescued us that May weekend so long ago. Without you, we’d never have made it out of the marina alive. I know I’ve said it before, but it’s worth saying again: I’m so grateful to you for helping two little kids in trouble. You were my hero for a long time—better than any superhero—and that’s why I could turn my rage into something positive and become a protector. I was furious after you left even though I knew you had to go and pick up the pieces of your life.”
He reached for her and put his arms around her. They hugged, the urn pressed between their padded bodies. Rachel buried her face in his chest and then raised her head to meet his gaze.
“I had such a crush on you by the time you got us to Peterborough.”
“I know. I didn’t know how to let you down easy, but I tried my best.” His words brought comfort in that low and soothing with a touch of sexy voice. “By the time I left you with your dad, I thought of you as a little sister.”
She smiled, the flow of her tears ceasing. “I’ll always love you like a brother, Pete. I know Jeff loved you like the brother he never had. He’d be happy you’re here. Will you help me?”
At his nod, she held up the urn. Together, they opened it and removed the bag with the ashes.
“Wind’s from the west,” Hound Dog commented.
“Thanks, Dog.” Even here, he had her back. “Let’s move to the south end, then.”
She and Peter made their way to the edge of the railing. Below them sprawled a forest of evergreen trees, spiky and snow-covered, and deciduous trees, bare and skeletal. Rocks jutted from the uneven cliff face. When she raised her face to the sky and breathed in deeply, flakes of snow landed on her lips. Silently, Rachel and Peter tipped the bag, scattering the ashes into the wind. The powdery grey remains flew and scattered in the breeze.
“Goodbye, Jeff,” Rachel whispered. “I love you. I miss you.”
Beside her, Peter produced a flask from inside his jacket. “To Jeff.” He took a swallow and passed it to Rachel.
Unsure what to expect, she took a swig. “Whiskey?”
“Yeah. I know Jeff didn’t drink, but I figured we’d need something bracing.”
She handed the flask back to him, and he walked over to Hound Dog and offered it to him. Rachel returned her attention to the ashes and saw no trace of them. Behind her, the two men talked in low voices. Footsteps heralded the approach of one of them, and she recognized Hound Dog’s tread. When he reached her, he put his arm around her shoulders and held the flask to her lips.
“One more swig?”
She sipped, leaning into him as she did. “Thanks, Jack,” she said, meaning so much more than simple gratitude for the gulp of alcohol.
He stroked her cloth-covered cheek with gloved fingers and she savoured the touch.
“You saved me, too, you know,” she said.
“I know,” he replied, his tone holding the old Hound Dog arrogance. She loved him for it and laughed, a good, hearty chuckle, but the moment had brought the tears back to her eyes, and she found herself laughing and crying at the same time.
“You’ve had enough,” he joked. “You ready to head home?”
“Yes.”
He kept his arm around her as they walked to Peter and then down the stairs to the trail that would take them back to the car. After they left the open area around the platform, Hound Dog released her, and they walked single file, their guns at the ready. They’d brought two vehicles, and when they reached the parking lot, they said their goodbyes to Peter. Rachel hugged him and kissed his cheek.
“Remember, you promised you’d visit us for Christmas.”
“I promise. Frosty.”
She laughed. “We’ll have to come up with a nickname for you, too, before you return. Make you an honorary protector.”
“Bye, Dog, take care of my sister,” Peter said and jumped in his vehicle when Hound Dog replied with a “You bet.”
Rachel and Hound Dog stood and watched Peter’s vehicle reverse out of the parking lot, turn, and head down the slope toward the main road.
“I’ll miss him,” Rachel said. “He’s always off chasing a story. I used to resent that. We idolized him and he never seemed to have time for us. I don’t know why I clung to him. He was a stranger to us, really.” She set the urn inside the car on the back seat and turned to face her partner.
Hound Dog drew her to him. “He saved your life, Jeff’s life. He was there for you when your father wasn’t.”
“That marked the beginning of the end of our family.”
“You had your work.”
“Jeff’s work got him killed.”
“No, your father’s work got Jeff killed.”
“My father’s work killed Coder and Foot-Long too.”
Their friends had been buried with honours in the protectors’ section of a cemetery outside of Peterborough. It had happened while Rachel was on the grendel-fighting circuit and Hound Dog was a prisoner. They’d visited the graves as soon as they discovered where the two young men had been buried, but Rachel would never forgive herself for their deaths.
“It’s not your fault.”
At Hound Dog’s words, a wave of affection for him swamped her, and she took his hand and squeezed it. After she released it, she said, “Where to, Dog?”
“You owe me a dinner, boss. It’s time we had a real date.”
In a fit of spontaneous joy, she threw her arms around him. “I thought you’d never ask.”
His lips found hers despite the ski masks they wore, and the kiss electrified her. When he deepened it, her entire body responded, and he stole her breath away. Vaguely, she reminded herself they were outside and at risk, but she clung to him for another moment. Finally, her lips formed words, and she spoke into his mouth.
“You’ll get us killed, Dog.”
“I always figured we’d die in each other’s arms one day, Frosty,” he replied as he eased away from her.
“You know,” she said, “one day we will.”
His mouth quirked up, and he opened the car door for her. “That was a proposal, boss.”
“I know.” She slipped into the driver’s seat, giving him a kiss as she passed by him. “That was a yes, Dog.”
He slammed her door closed, and she heard him whistling as he walked around to the passenger side. Despite everything that had happened and everything they still had to do to fix it, she felt lighter, happier. She and Hound Dog made a great team. They’d make an even better family.
###
About the Author
Val Tobin lives in Newmarket, Ontario with her husband, Bob, and Scully, their cat. She spends her days writing, reading, and searching for the perfect butter tart. Her educational background includes a diploma in Computer Information Systems from DeVry Toronto, a B.Sc. in Parapsychic Science from the American Institute of Holistic Theology, an M.Sc. in Parapsychology from AIHT, Reiki Master/Teacher certifications, and Angel Therapy Practitioner® certifications.
Other books by this author
Angel Words by Doreen Virtue and Grant Virtue
Val contributed a story to Doreen and Grant Virtue’s Hay House book Angel Words: Visual Evidence of How Words Can Be Angels in Your Life
The Valiant Chronicles Series
Prequel: Earthbound
A spirit becomes earthbound after refusing to cross over in order to solve her murder and prevent more deaths, some of which might be predestined.
Book One: The Experiencers
A black-ops assassin atones for his brutal past by trying to help an alien abductee escape her fate.
Book Two: A Ring of Truth
A rogue assassin returns from the dead to rescue alien abductees and triggers Armageddon.
The Valiant Chronicles are also available as a box set.
Injury
A young actress at the height of her career has her personal life turned upside down when a horrifying family secret makes front-page news.
Gillian’s Island
A socially anxious divorcée confronts her greatest fears when she's forced to sell her island home and falls for the dashing new owner.
Walk-In
A young psychic woman fights an attraction to a handsome but skeptical novelist while she battles a power-hungry sorcerer determined to make her his next conquest.
About Three Authors: Poison Pen
Three wannabe authors suffering from various mental disorders find love in unexpected places when they interfere in the investigation of a colleague’s murder.
The Hunted
A monster hunter revisits her terrifying past while helping a reporter uncover the origins of Storm Lake's creatures. A sequel to the short story Storm Lake, The Hunted takes place twelve years later and is a stand-alone novel.
Connect with Val Tobin
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