Midnight Hunter (The Execution Underground Book 3)

by Kait Ballenger

  Despite that, he enjoyed the view from the other side of the fence for once. It was nice to be sitting on the more glorified side. A guy could get used to this.

  “There were ten obituaries. Two bodies have already been used, so there are eight remaining.”

  Trent lifted a finger to call for attention before he spoke. “That’s a good plan, but if we exhaust all the avenues that they have planned and they’re already onto the fact that a hunter is on their trail, won’t they just turn to other avenues? Then we’ll be back to square one, not knowing who their targets are.”

  Trent had a very valid point. All eyes turned toward Damon, waiting for his executive decision.

  “What cemeteries are they buried in?” Damon asked. “It may be best to monitor the graves and pick them off one by one as they rise.”

  “But won’t that tip them off all the same? If they raise a corpse and we’re just waiting there to whack its head off, won’t they know their plans are being foiled right away?” Trent retorted.

  Jace leaned back in his chair. “Maybe we can catch them in the act while they’re at the cemetery?”

  Shane wished it were that simple. “Unfortunately, they’re able to stay off site to raise the corpses, so that’s not a possibility. We need to find a way to prevent the zombies from snuffing any more lives out without letting the necromancer figure out that we’re onto his plans.”

  “Could we just throw a bag over their heads and hog tie ’em?” Ash suggested.

  Shane shook his head. “I don’t know if that will work. The necromancer has the ability to speak through their bodies now. If he perfects the ability of full-body possession, that will mean you all could find yourselves face-to-face with one hell of a powerful warlock, and none of you know anything about being a witch hunter beyond the basics.”

  Trent fiddled with the brim of his Red Sox cap as he thought. “What if we monitor whichever corpse they raise and allow the monster to go about its business until it comes time for the killing part? Keep a close tail on it until the last possible second. Wouldn’t that buy us some time? How quickly can they raise these suckers from the dead, anyway?”

  Shane weighed the possibilities. While that would be labor intensive, requiring nearly the whole team to execute, it seemed like the best option they had. “With such a complicated spell, I don’t think they’re capable of raising more than one corpse a night. Theoretically, it’s possible, but it would be one hell of a magical workout, like several days of nonstop of aerobics, but for witches, unless they have a whole army the likes of which hasn’t been seen since the Middle Ages.”

  Damon cleared his throat. “We’ll check the obits to see where the bodies are buried—my recollection from the list you sent me is that only three different cemeteries were mentioned—and we’ll man them in pairs. Whoever happens to get lucky gets to babysit the corpse for the night.”

  David raised a hand to flag Damon’s attention. “But if Shane is still busy researching and directing the operation, that leaves us an uneven number.”

  “Kellan MacKenzie, the vampire hunter from Detroit who came to consult about a case, should be here any minute. He’s staying a few days. Apparently, he has family in the area, so we can use him since we need an extra hand.”

  “Tonight should be calm. They already raised Lauren Seater’s corpse either last night or early this morning, which is how Nina Benson ended up dead, so I think it’s safe to say it will be quiet tonight, but it might be worth monitoring the graves, anyway.”

  “How do we know they’re going to strike at night? What if they perform the ritual during the day?” Jace asked.

  Shane shook his head. “Too risky. They need the cover of nighttime so no one sees a corpse start walking around like a zombie. Plus, black magic is strongest beneath the moon. Why would they take a risk and make extra work for themselves during the day? I think it’s safe to assume that our danger zone is from nightfall until daybreak. As soon as the sun cracks over the horizon, we’re in the clear. The time we need to be the most vigilant is midnight. Midnight is the witching hour, so they’re most likely to be active then.”

  “Well, sounds like we have a solid plan. What do you think, O Captain, my Captain?” Trent asked, quoting Walt Whitman’s famous line.

  “What about the cases we’re currently working on?” David asked.

  Damon glanced around at them. “None of the cases any of you are working right now are anywhere near as urgent as this. You have my permission to neglect your normal duties in the interest of working as the muscle for this case.”

  Trent pumped his arm as if he’d just hit the jackpot. “Thank God. If I had to hear about one more incident with that squirrel-shifter, I was going to shoot myself.”

  “Squirrel-shifter? Are you fucking kidding me?” Jace raised an eyebrow in a look that said, Do I even want to know?

  “Some half squirrel, half man has been showing up naked in people’s backyards out in the suburbs. Soccer moms tend to be a little alarmed when a nude man nibbling on acorns is perched near their child’s window. I’m not sure whether he’s a shifter who’s unable to hold his animal form for long or just a garden variety nut.”

  Ash laughed so hard Shane was certain he was going to fall over. He had to admit, the thought had him chuckling, too, despite the sour mood the night’s events had left him in.

  “Sweet Lord, have mercy. Is that ‘the flasher’ that’s been in the papers?” Ash asked.

  Trent grinned from ear to ear. “The one and only.”

  “Hey. It’s all shits and giggles until it’s your own damn kid that’s scarred for life. I, for one, wouldn’t want either of my girls to see that sight, let alone in their own fucking backyard.” Jace shook his head as if the thought of a terrifying naked squirrel-shifter was more appalling than hilarious.

  David clapped Jace on the shoulder. “Check you out, daddy-O. They aren’t even born yet, and already you’re the world’s most protective father.”

  Trent waved a hand in dismissal. “He was done for the minute Frankie told him she was pregnant. I can already hear the string of profanities coming from your lips the first time you step on a Lego. I see lots of Barbie dolls in your future, my friend.”

  David punched Jace in the arm. “Next thing you know he’ll give up smoking and start wearing dad jeans.”

  Jace chuckled. “What are my jeans to you, asshole? You like the view?”

  David batted his eyelashes in jest. “You know it, sugar.”

  A sly smile crossed Ash’s lips. “Cut it out, you two. You’re goin’ to make Damon jealous.”

  The growl of annoyance that rumbled from Damon’s throat sent them all into a fit of hysterics, except for Damon, of course, who resorted to glowering at Ash as he bellowed, “All of you, get the fuck out of my sight.”

  That only had Jace laughing harder as he exited the room. Clearly, from the looks of things, Jace and David were taking one cemetery, Ash and Trent another, leaving Damon and the visiting hunter from Detroit for the third.

  That left him time to get to the bottom of things. He wished he could breathe a sigh of relief over the fact that there would likely be no more deaths for the foreseeable future, but after the necromancer had spoken through his victim, he somehow couldn’t find that comforting.

  * * *

  ONCE SHANE, JACE and David had departed, Ash hung back a moment with Trent and Damon. When Damon had called to notify him of the meeting, he’d said he needed to speak to Ash, which either meant Ash had somehow managed to royally fuck up or Damon had more work for him. He wasn’t sure which he was betting on.

  The large manila folder that landed on the desk beside him moments later answered that question: more work.

  “What’s this?” he asked, picking up the folder and thumbing it open.

  “Something I’d
like you to take a look at when you get a chance,” Damon replied.

  Ash examined the first page of the file: a photo, depicting what appeared to be some sort of theater or opera house. The photo was followed by several news clippings, as well as copies of reports from the Rochester PD about disturbances.

  “Is this place haunted?”

  Damon gave a single nod. “Reportedly. Break from the busy asylum and take care of this.”

  Busy was an understatement. The shambles of what had once been Rochester State Hospital were packed full of dozens of restless souls, particularly the building that had housed what was once known as the Monroe County Insane Asylum. Not only was the building full to the brim with enough angry souls needing to be put to rest that he could probably spend a lifetime working on it, but the grounds were heavily guarded. Even getting into the building to do his job was a task.

  Ash nodded. “Will do, but I’ve gotta ask, why does this take precedence over the asylum? Loads of kids break in there and end up getting themselves into trouble or killed, but I can’t imagine there’s much to-do over this theater. From what it says here, it only closed recently.”

  A grim look crossed Damon’s face. “Headquarters.”

  “Headquarters-schmedquarters,” Trent chimed in. “Who gives a shit what they think?”

  Damon frowned. “You do, if you want to keep your job.”

  “Why does headquarters give a rat’s ass about this theater?” Ash asked.

  Damon shook his head. “They don’t. What they care about is seeing cases closed, and since you’ve been working on the asylum, you haven’t closed a case in months. They’ve been riding my ass, asking what you’re doing. I have to give them something tangible to shut them up.”

  Ash nodded. “Right, and this will be an easy case to feed the vultures.” He frowned. He couldn’t say he was happy about having to take a break from his focus on the asylum, but he knew the game. Being a hunter was fifty percent doing your job well and fifty percent pleasing headquarters. “I’ll take care of it,” he reassured Damon.

  Muffled shouts sounded from outside the control room, and all three men immediately went on alert. With Damon in the lead, they quickly exited, reclaiming their weaponry as they went. The cold winter air that filled the interior of the abandoned warehouse hit Ash smack in the face as they came face-to-face with...a man in a skirt?

  Ash’s eyes widened as he took in the sight of the man who’d been yelling, “Hello?” into the empty warehouse. Topping out at a solid six feet, the nearly bald—save for a slight military buzz—visitor stood hollering in the middle of the warehouse, dressed in nothing more than a tartan kilt, a long-sleeved shirt and a tartan sash with an honest to goodness sword tied on his belt. Large tattoos poked out from underneath his neckline.

  “You must be Kellan,” Damon said.

  “Aye, and ye must be Damon,” the man replied, his Scottish brogue so thick that Ash’s Southern-boy ears could barely understand a word coming from his lips. Was he even speaking English?

  Damon and the newcomer shook hands. “Kellan, these are two of my fellow hunters, Ash Devereaux and Trent Garrison. Ash, Trent, this is Kellan MacKenzie, the resident vampire hunter and division leader for Detroit.”

  Ash and Trent both took their cue and stepped forward to shake the man’s hand.

  “Detroit, huh? How’d a Scotsman end up there?” Ash asked.

  Kellan chuckled. “A long story, but I don’ mind tellin’ it if ye get a pint or two down me first.”

  Ash and Trent both grinned. Trent clapped Ash on the back as he spoke. “Another time, perhaps. We have some rising corpses to babysit, as do you, if I understand correctly.”

  Kellan raised an eyebrow.

  “I’ll explain in a minute,” Damon added.

  Ash and Trent both stepped toward the door, but Trent paused just as they reached it. “Just out of curiosity, since I may never encounter another Scotsman to ask again, how can you stand to wear that thing—” he gestured to Kellan’s kilt “—with nothing underneath it in the cold Rochester weather?”

  Ash covered his face with his hand. Dear Lord, leave it to Trent to ask the man about the temperature of his family jewels after just meeting him.

  Kellan gave a hearty laugh. “It may be cold here, but it’s always colder in the Highlands,” he said.

  Trent opened his mouth again, but Ash grabbed him by the back of his leather coat and hauled him out the door before he could say anything else. When the door to the warehouse slammed behind them, Ash shot Trent an “I can’t believe you” look. The former soldier didn’t really have much by way of a filter. He supposed when you spent so many years of your life seeing the worst of humanity, you couldn’t be bothered to care about basic social conventions.

  Trent made a mock pouty face. “Why’d you have to spoil the fun? I wanted to know how much shrinkage goes on with it being so cold.”

  Ash couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s exactly why I spoiled your fun. The last thing I want to talk about before goin’ to sit in a damn graveyard for the night is the shrinkage beneath a Scotsman’s kilt. My mind’s too damn visual for that. Let’s get to work.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  A SNAKELIKE HISS cut through Shane’s grandmother’s apartment as Vera squeezed the living daylights out of the fat tomcat sitting in her arms. “Oh, Binksy, Mommy missed you.” The obese feline let out an annoyed meow. He dug his claws into the skin of her collarbone, kneading her despite the obvious let-go-of-me-you-imbecile-human look on his face. Regardless of the fact that Binks was at times an unpleasant furball, he was hers, and holding on to him made her feel so much more relaxed and at home.

  It had been Allsún’s idea to fetch the feline from her apartment to provide some much needed companionship. She’d graciously fetched Binks, his supply of Fancy Feast, his litter box and every comfort he could possibly need, like the champion vet tech she clearly was.

  “There. See how happy he looks. I bet he’d much rather be here with you than cooped up in your apartment alone, being fed by a neighbor.” Allsún smiled sweetly at the two of them.

  Vera looked down into Binks’s pissed-off face. Happy wasn’t really how she would describe it, but she knew Allsún was trying to be positive. In the short time she’d known the woman, she’d found the small half-Fae exuded care from her very pores, and ever since she’d first wrapped Vera in her tiny embrace, she’d been trying to make her feel better about the events of the night. It was no wonder Allsún worked with animals for a living. She was compassionate and empathetic, probably to a fault, and Vera could certainly see why Shane’s fellow hunter had been so eager to save her from the clutches of a terrible demon several months earlier.

  “Thank you for being so kind, and for bringing Binks to me. Having him here does really make it feel more like home.” She smiled at her newfound friend.

  Allsún returned the grin. “Gladly,” she chimed. Her voice reminded Vera of the sound of tinkling bells, and she bet that the woman had some seriously powerful faery magic in her repertoire.

  Before she could contemplate just how powerful that magic might be, keys jingled inside the front door lock.

  “Oh, good, Henry is home,” said Grandma Grey from the kitchen.

  “I don’t think it’s Henry, Mrs. Grey. I think it’s your grandson, Shane,” Vera called back. She gave Allsún a sad look. In the time she’d spent with Shane and his grandmother, she had come to care for the elderly lady. Despite her memory issues, Mrs. Grey clearly had a great heart, and she absolutely adored her grandson, which only made her dementia all the more heartbreaking. Vera couldn’t imagine the pain it caused Shane.

  “Oh, Shane.” She heard Grandma Grey toddle down the hallway to most likely wrap her grandson in her regular embrace. “It’s been so long. I’ve missed you.”

  “I’ve missed
you, too, Grandma. This is David. He’s here to pick up Allsún,” Vera heard Shane reply.

  “Oh, well, isn’t he a looker. I bet he’s really something between the sheets,” Grandma Grey declared without a trace of embarrassment in her voice. As Vera understood it from Shane, one of the hallmarks of the disease was the lack of a mental filter to keep what were normally private thoughts unspoken.

  Allsún giggled at Grandma Grey’s comment, and Vera knew the laughter wasn’t meant maliciously. “He really is,” Allsún said with a wide grin and no specificity.

  “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Grey,” David’s deep voice rumbled from the hall.

  A moment later Shane and the towering presence that was David stepped into the room. Shane towered over most men, but David probably put quite a few professional basketball players to shame. The man was a giant, which only made his match with a pint-size literal pixie of a woman all the more interesting. As Allsún rushed to kiss David when he entered, a blush crept up into Vera’s cheeks as she watched David bend to kiss Allsún back. She wondered how the...ahem, mechanics of that relationship worked.

  Her thoughts quickly went from inappropriate to downright dirty when Shane stepped in, though. Handsome as David might have been, as far as Vera was concerned, he was no match for the charming, intellectual badass that was Dr. Shane Grey. That thought only sent a stronger blush straight to her cheeks.

  “Are you okay?” Shane asked as soon as he saw her.

  She hefted the sizable weight of Binks up higher into her arms. He let out a dissatisfied mew that sounded more like the bray of a small donkey than a cat. “I’m better now that Binksy is here.”

  Shane’s eyes widened at the sight of the cat. “That’s Binks? Your familiar?”

  She nodded while smiling down at the pissed-off furball in her arms. “Yep, isn’t he huge?” She had considered saying “precious,” but precious described a small kitten and Binks... Well, he was more the size of a small dog. And since cute and cuddly weren’t adequate descriptors, either, she’d settled for commenting on his incredible size.