Forgotten Gods Boxed Set 2

by S T Branton

  The mention of monsters had roused the little boy’s interest. He peered out from behind Laurel with wide, bright eyes but she shook her head and didn’t elaborate.

  I wracked my brain for a way to extract more information without acting like a jerk. She was clearly traumatized, and she was not the only one. Every woman I saw had that same haunted expression. The last thing I wanted was to make it worse, but I also needed to understand all possible threats.

  Laurel didn’t volunteer anything more after that, and I didn’t want to leave her side. I remained silent and mulled things over in search of the best angle of approach. My thoughts were interrupted by a familiar moaning howl from the trees.

  “Slow!” came the call from the front line. Our movement ratcheted down until we barely shuffled forward, which struck me as a little odd. I stretched to peer over the group at the redheaded soldiers. They were on full alert and their wide eyes peered into every dark nook and cranny they could possibly see. I frowned. Were they looking for something? Wary of an ambush?

  Suddenly, they didn’t act like the top of the food chain, and that concerned me.

  Something tugged at my jeans, timid but insistent. I glanced into the round, sweet face of Laurel’s son. “Can I tell you something?” Jesse asked somberly.

  I bent to hear him better and slipped my arm around his shoulders. He nestled up to me, and even though I’d never been what some might call a kid person, I felt my heart melt a little. “You sure can,” I said, my tone light. “What’s up?”

  “Do you hear that?” He pointed vaguely to indicate the ethereal noise that resounded through the air. “That’s what the trees say when they know he’s coming.”

  The ominous way he spoke sent a chill through my blood. “Who’s ‘he?’” I asked.

  The kid’s giant blue eyes panned the surroundings. From his vantage point, there was little to see other than legs and feet. “The white wolf,” he proclaimed reverently.

  I bit my tongue to keep from spewing my instinctual response, which was along the lines of, “And who the hell is that?” It turned out not to matter anyway. Before I had the chance to utter another word, a different howl eclipsed the first. This cry was louder than the trees as if it came from even greater multitudes. And it was all around us.

  “Stop!” the leader bellowed. “The enemy approaches. Do not back down.” At once, all his subordinates drew into a tighter circle, tense and ready. I strained to see what they watched for, but inside, I already knew. I’d worked side by side with one for too long not to recognize the battle cry of a Were.

  Their first strike was swift, merciless, and immediately overwhelming. The wolves surged upon the flame-haired Vikings like a tidal wave of terror and ripped into their ranks. The women screamed, but it was drowned out by the cacophony of soldiers dying in droves. In a matter of seconds, flames flickered as they bled from the Vikings’ wounds.

  “Oh, hell no,” I said and went quickly into full evacuation mode. “Listen to me!” I shouted above the din. “We have to get the fuck out of here if we want to live. Follow me!” I grabbed Laurel by the hand yet again and her kid too.

  She beckoned to the woman beside her. “You can trust this lady,” she said. “She saved my family.”

  The woman looked at her, then at me, and nodded with grim determination. “If she can help us through this,” she said, “that’s all that matters.”

  “Stick together!” I called. “But move fast. The fire will spread.”

  Smoke already hung in the air, tinged with the acrid scent of burning hair. The screams of the dying followed us as I herded the flock of women and children away from the fight. Some of them covered their ears, and most of the kids wailed, but many of the mothers stood strong and resolute. They were tough. They’d seen a lot of shit.

  I stopped in a place with clean air, far enough from the bloodbath that we’d have ample warning if the fire got out of hand. “Stay here,” I told the group. “We won’t move unless we’re in danger.”

  “What’s happening?” Laurel’s boy asked me. “Are there more bad guys now?”

  “Could be,” I said. I was grateful for the werewolves’ intervention—to a point. They weren’t all like Maya, but they could all wreak havoc like her. “I don’t know for sure, so we have to be careful, all right? Stick close to your mom. Keep her safe.”

  He nodded gravely. Laurel scooped him into her embrace. I drew my sword and threaded through the trees toward the massacre but not too far from my group. The worst mistake would be to leave them defenseless. I glanced over my shoulder once to give them some sort of assurance, and at that moment, the best I could think of was a thumbs-up. They did not look very comforted.

  “Nice one, Vic,” I said under my breath. “Now they probably think you’re a lunatic too.”

  Lunatics can still have honor, said Marcus helpfully.

  I sighed. “Thanks, buddy.”

  The clash grew louder in my ears, and so did the crackle of the building inferno. Tongues of flame danced amid the trees, which were splashed with wolf blood and ashes. Through the thickening smoke, I caught an eerie silhouette of a Viking soldier torn to shreds by one of the beasts. A figure emerged from the melee and barreled toward me, wild-eyed. His beard was half burned off his face, but I recognized the Viking leader. His air of cockiness had been replaced with one of crazed fury and bitter desperation.

  “You!” he shouted and fixed his blazing eyes on me. “You must have lured them here. You must have known.”

  “Known what?” I asked. “That werewolves are insane and also super strong? Yeah, I’m not an idiot.”

  He bellowed an anguished roar. “Shut up! Shut up!” The head of his hammer swung high and lit a corona in the surrounding smoke. “I’ll torch you.” His voice was hoarse, and his chest heaved. “That will fix it. I’ll end it all and wipe the slate clean. Gods forgive me—”

  The last sentence was mangled by a grunt of pain as a huge, dark shape bore down on him from the side and crushed his body into the ground. The former Viking leader groaned and twisted futilely under the force of a great, grizzled paw. The creature that loomed over him was enormous, vicious, and covered in white fur. It was missing an eye and a foreleg. In place of the limb was a long silver blade.

  The wolf turned to me and exhaled a furious breath. I stared into its face and asked, “Smitty?”

  I’d never seen a Were smile before, but the old guy managed somehow. “Vic,” he said. “I thought you’d never return.”

  Chapter Twenty

  “Well, I’ll be damned.” I grinned. “Good to see you, Pops. Any chance you can get us the hell out of here?”

  Smitty winked. “Sure I can. But I gotta warn you. It’s gonna get worse before it gets better.” His Were voice was deep and gravelly, a fitting match for the grizzled silver wolf who towered over us. Two other Weres appeared to take responsibility for the captive Viking. “No time to waste.” Behind him, the bloody battle climbed toward a crescendo. “Come this way. Don’t fall behind, now.”

  With that, he led us to the right so we could circumvent the worst of the fight. I ushered the women in front of me in order to make sure no one was left behind. Smitty moved fast at the head of his new pack. He cleared debris out of the way with broad sweeps of his arm and his gleaming silver blade.

  “It’s okay,” I said to the group. “Believe it or not, I know this guy. He’s a friend—and the best thing that could’ve happened at the moment.”

  Nobody seemed totally comfortable, but no one argued either. Given the alternative, Smitty the friendly werewolf was quite obviously the lesser of two evils. As our band of escapees picked up the pace, I made my way back to the front and Smitty’s side.

  “Where are we headed?” I asked. “Because we’re missing some people, and I really don’t want to screw off and let them fend for themselves.”

  Smitty glanced at me. “I have my men already on it,” he said. “Trust me. They’ll be fine.” A grimace of disg
ust crossed his lupine features. “These warmonger jackasses don’t stand a chance.”

  Heartened by his response, I let myself relax a little. “I’m glad to know you still have your community together,” I told him. “Maya will be happy to hear that, too.”

  He smiled fondly at the mention of the vet’s name. “I wondered if that girl had come back with you,” he said. “It’s a pity she didn’t. There are a lot of folks who would’ve liked to see her back at HQ.”

  “Sorry,” I said sheepishly. “She wanted to be here, but the fort couldn’t spare both of us. Someone needs to hold it down, right?”

  He chuckled coarsely. “You have yourself a fort?”

  I nodded. “An old military base in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. It’s a pretty sweet setup, but I needed someone there I could trust while I’m gone.”

  “Makes sense. Tell me what you’re doing way out there in the wilderness. You were pretty set on getting back to your city last time I saw you.”

  “I was,” I said. “And we did. We stayed for as long as we could, but the gods eventually ran us out. It turns out New York is a coveted battleground in this war, and I decided I’d rather save lives than hold my ground.”

  Smitty nodded approvingly. “That’s a sign of wisdom,” he intoned. “We heard snippets along those lines from the girl on the radio. At least until all hell broke loose about a month ago.” He grinned again and bared his impressive fangs. “She and Amber were about tickled pink when they found out they both knew you. I guess it ain’t that surprising if you think about it.” His gaze made a quick circuit of the woods around our troop. “I’ll tell you more when we get settled. I can’t afford to get too distracted while we’re out here. Just because there’s a fight on doesn’t mean we’re safe.”

  I craned my neck to look toward the canopy. The howling from the trees had faded somewhat as we relocated, but I could still hear it in the distance. The ones in our immediate vicinity hummed although they weren’t as loud or insistent. “Do you know what’s going on with this forest?” I asked. “I’ve never heard anything like it. A little bird told me it happens a lot when you’re around.”

  “Yeah,” Smitty said. “They do that whenever any wolf is nearby, really. At first, I thought it was a fear thing like they assumed we would attack them. I saw it like the members of a herd protecting each other, alerting everyone to the presence of predators.” He brushed his claws lightly against a trunk. “Now I kinda think it’s a different story. They’re more like cheerleaders in their own way. And they scare the shit out of those damn matchstick men, so I don’t complain.”

  I gave him a sidelong look. “You’re talking like these trees have feelings, you old hippie,” I joked.

  He shrugged his grizzled shoulders. “Well, they might still. They were people once.”

  I can confirm that the werewolf is correct. The trees in this section of the forest are souls that have been converted by Oxylem. Traditionally, this process occurred by their choice, but I am quite sure this has not been the case for some time as far as the vast majority is concerned.

  I drew in a sharp breath. Suddenly, the disfigured trees seemed to stand out in much greater detail and commanded more of my attention. “These were all—”

  Smitty put a finger to his lips. “When we get to where we're going, I’ll fill in all the gaps,” he said in hushed tones. “For now, I’d like us to move a little quieter. We’re close, and I don’t want to be tracked.”

  I shut my mouth, but thoughts raced in my head. It had not occurred to me that the creepy forest itself might be made up of its former inhabitants. The revelation that we had essentially walked through a living graveyard sent a shiver up my spine. I glanced back toward the battle we’d left. The prospect of a forest fire loomed even grimmer than before.

  Smitty dropped until he was almost on all fours. At a distance, he could’ve passed for something like a real wolf. He was still too bulky, too shaggy, and too purely wild in face and shape, but he had clearly learned a hell of a lot about surviving in his current form.

  I sidled as close to his furry side as I could get. “How far?” I breathed inches from his ear. He lifted one arm and pointed into an outwardly impenetrable wall of underbrush. I hesitated and glanced back at the women and children who trailed behind us.

  He moved ahead, dove into the foliage, and opened a path down the middle as if it were water. Quickly, I motioned for the others to follow close behind and went in after him. We stayed low and waded through a scratchy sea of dead leaves and branches. The tunnel narrowed briefly before it widened into a more normal path.

  At that point, Smitty straightened. He loped toward the edge of a bright, warm clearing. “That’s our home base there,” he said. The words were tinged with pride. “We worked hard to build ourselves up after that epidemic.”

  I smiled, happy for his success and eager to be among friendly faces. “I can’t wait to see it.”

  He stepped through the tree line. “You don’t have to wait, ʼcause here we are.” We paused to take it in. “Welcome to the resistance, Vic.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “Wow,” I murmured.

  The clearing, like every other location we’d seen so far, was massively overgrown and returned slowly to its natural state. Twisted tendrils of roots pushed their way through the soil as far as I could see, despite the fact that few trees grew beyond the point where we stood. In the center of the space, a huge stone structure soared into the sky.

  The empty frame of a former window gazed down on us like a blinded eye to tell me that this place had once been a church. Time and the elements meshed its austere glory with the ethereal beauty of the wild. Vines twined over mossy stone, holes crumbled in the façade, and trees pushed through the eroded floor and reached for the roof. But its walls held firm, and the doors at the top of the sweeping entrance stairs were fortified with iron.

  “A stunner, isn’t she?” Smitty remarked. “Someone smiled upon us when we found her more or less intact.” He wasted no time and herded our troop of escapees into the building, including me.

  The towering doors creaked open, and a warm wash of light poured over our weary group. Smitty’s people waited across the threshold to welcome us with open arms. Some of the women burst into tears in the face of such hospitality. Others were joyfully reunited with the brothers, husbands, and sons who had made it here ahead of us.

  “Damn,” I said to Smitty. “You weren’t kidding about having that covered.” I turned to pat him on the shoulder, but the wolf had gone. “Where the hell did he go?”

  “Hey, stranger.” The grin that popped onto my face as soon as I saw Deacon was automatic, born of sheer relief. He pulled me into his arms for a quick squeeze. “Check these digs out.” He left his arm around my shoulders.

  “You think they’re nicer than ours?” I asked. The church wasn’t as big as Fort Victory, but its sanctuary was nice and open and allowed enough room for beds and other things. Dozens of people milled around to settle the new arrivals. The smell of a hot meal in the making wafted down a hallway.

  “Nah,” Deacon said. “But there’s more of a rustic charm.”

  “I wouldn’t call this place rustic,” Brax interjected. He had appeared out of thin air, as was his wont, and as usual, he seemed thoroughly unimpressed. “Overbearing, maybe. There are a bunch of creepy statues near the front.”

  I gave him the once-over. “I’m surprised you’re not literally on fire, Brax,” I said.

  He folded his arms. “That’s a new one. Tell it again, why don’t you?”

  I chuckled, released Deacon, and scanned the room once more for Smitty. He walked toward us, a wiry old blacksmith with a full white beard. The sword in his arm socket bore a sheath, and he smiled with his entire wrinkled face. Everyone he passed greeted him like an old friend—in many cases, he probably was.

  He guided us toward the far wall of the sanctuary, where a closed door led to the church’s inner office. “Gentleme
n,” he said and nodded to Deacon and Brax. “How are we doing? All in one piece?”

  “Yes, sir,” Deacon replied. “Let me take this opportunity to thank you for saving our asses. You showed up in the nick of time.”

  Smitty laughed. “We’ve had practice, my boy. Maybe too much of it.” His expression sobered. “And it didn’t start here. The fighting’s been on and off since you left Washington all that time ago, Vic.”

  He parked himself in a metal folding chair and fished a pipe from the front pocket of his overalls. “The wolf disease spread farther than we thought it would,” he said. “More of ʼem cropped up in droves—overnight, it seemed. Our original clan did the best we could to track them down and try to talk it through.”

  As he spoke, he pinched tobacco from a pouch and used his thumb to tamp it down into the bowl. “It was easier after Lupres was dead. All that mind control trash from before went out the window.” Smitty frowned. “But then again, that made it harder in some respects too.” He delved into his pocket for a match, which he struck on the sheath of his arm-sword. “Not everyone saw the same safety in numbers that we did. Many times, I was told to screw off, and they left to make their own way.

  “Too many turned against us, and we had to wage our own civil war. I can’t tell you how much blood was shed in the early days, but it was a damn river. Lord knows I didn’t want to do it. I don’t think anyone did.” He paused to take a puff of the pipe. The blue smoke plumed from his lips. “Still, we knew we had to do it, so it got done.” He sighed and shook his head. “Of course, we buried them all. You go back there, and you’ll find a veritable cemetery. What a shame.” Another puff released a billow of sweet-smelling smoke. “The silver lining is that there was a surprising number who did come with me. That’s how we got here.”