Blood Moon Eclipse (The Shadow Lands Book 2)

by Lloyd Behm II

  “Stop,” I said, interrupting him. “I’ve got some people who are going to want to talk to you, but we’re probably better off if you wait to talk to them.”

  “Jesse? Can you come here a minute?” Dalma called from the house.

  I made sure Diindiisi had an eye on Skirt and walked to the house. On the porch was a realtor’s sign.

  “What’s up?” I asked.

  “Jesse, there isn’t anyone living here. You sure this is the address Denny gave you?”

  I pulled out my phone and checked the info I’d put into the GPS.

  “Yeah, it’s the right place,” I said. “I’d also say the group of free-range assholes assuming ambient temperature over there are a pretty solid indication we’re in the right place.”

  “Then where’s Denny’s ex and kid?” Dalma asked.

  “Good fucking question,” I said, turning and walking back to Skirt.

  “You said your priest called you and told you to meet those assholes, right?” I asked.

  “About a week ago, yeah. I’m a freelance web journalist, so I can afford to move about. I came down here from Dallas, and hooked up with Plant there,” Skirt replied in a shaky voice. “I’ve been hanging out at his dealership, doing a series on the sales strategies of different high-end auto groups. Well, that’s my cover anyway.”

  “And Plant here came in today and told you that the informant had stopped passing information and it was time to make him pay?” I asked.

  Skirt closed his eyes for a minute and his lips moved as if he was saying something.

  “No. What he said was it was time for QMG to pay,” Skirt replied. “When we saw you guys get out of your Tahoes, he was really happy.”

  “How so?”

  “He said something about ‘the ones the prince seeks,’ or shit like that,” Skirt replied. “Look, could I get something to drink?”

  “Not until the medics get here and look you over. Sorry,” I replied, rising. I could hear sirens Dopplering in the distance. “Shouldn’t be too long though.”

  I walked a safe distance away and pulled out my phone, and called Jed.

  “How’d it go?” he asked.

  “Like shit,” I replied. “What’s Denny doing right now?”

  “He’s in interrogation down on ten, why?”

  “Is he pacing? Worried? Any of that shit?” I asked, watching a squad car come around the corner.

  “Damn if I know. What’s going on?” Jed replied.

  “It was a setup, Jed. The house he sent us to is empty, and there were a bunch of cultists waiting for us,” I said, making the ‘circle up’ gesture with my other hand to the team.

  “That’s…shit, that’s not good,” Jed replied. “What are you going to do about it?”

  “I’m handing the scene here over to the backups as soon as they get here, and then we’re coming back to headquarters. I’ll bring a head or two for him to look at and see what his response is.”

  “You are a sick man,” Jed replied. “See you when you get back.”

  “Bag any female heads we’ve got. Leave everything else for the backup team and the cleaners,” I said, hanging up on Jed.

  That got me looks, I’ll admit, but the team was used to me giving weird ass orders at this point. Backup followed the ambulance in, and I gave Stewart a quick read on the scene, then jumped in back in the Tahoe. We headed back to the office, so we could have a discussion with Denny. I was kinda looking forward to it, honestly.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Twenty-One

  I kept my cards close to my vest on the ride back. I had my suspicions, and didn’t want anyone jumping the gun. Jed knew what I was thinking, but my team didn’t. For all I knew, there were more cultists working out of the Austin office. Before Goodhart had taken over, the hiring policy was damn liberal—as long as you hadn’t actively broken the ‘don’t eat humans’ rule, you could get a job. It’d had worked out in some cases—the Gorgon working night dispatch being a stellar example of ‘good,’ for all that she’d turn your ass to stone in a heartbeat if you saw her without her veil—but apparently there were issues, as well.

  “Right,” I said, once we’d unassed the vehicles. “You guys stand by…”

  “To stand by,” Holt said with a laugh.

  “Something like that, yeah,” I said, hefting the body bag with the heads in it.

  We’d tossed the heads in a body bag and tied the handles together. It didn’t magically turn a six-foot long bag with three heads in it into a Gucci backpack, but it made hauling around three human heads less of a pain in the ass. Most of the time improvise, adapt, and overcome was the unofficial motto of Group, with the official motto being, ‘We want no proofs; we ask none to believe us!’ Personally, my motto was the old infantry one—FIDO. Fuck it, drive on. Which was my plan at this point, as I rode the elevator down to ten. At least the bag wasn’t leaking. Yet.

  Jed and Goodhart were waiting on ten. The lower levels still smelt faintly of burned rock and overcooked snake.

  “What’s the plan, Jesse?” Goodhart asked.

  “I’m going to walk in and drop heads on the desk until the bastard owns one of them. At that point, I’m going to ask him why he didn’t mention his daughter was a therianthrope,” I said. “Unless y’all’ve got a better one?”

  No response, so I walked through the door and dropped the bag on a chair.

  Denny sat on the far side of the table, a cup of coffee cooling in front of him. When I stepped through the door, he looked up, his face awash in emotions, before settling on ‘distressed.’

  “Did you…did you find them?” he asked, voice trembling with emotion.

  He was also taking in my look, covered in goo—remember, combat is cardio, and close combat is really cardio—and trying to figure out how to tailor his questions to that.

  “Yeah, we found them,” I said, pulling a knife and cutting the cord holding the bag together. I unzipped the bag and pulled the first head out. “Unfortunately, the cultists found them first. I know this is going to be hard, but I need you to identify your daughter and her mother.”

  I set the head on the table with a Thump, and reached for the other two. Denny stared at the heads, a look of disgust on his face. He finally pointed at the middle head—a short-haired brunette with skunk streaks from her widow’s peak to the blood-soaked tips of her hair.

  “You’re sure?” I asked.

  “Yes…that’s Carrie,” he replied.

  “I thought you said your daughter was named Candace?” I asked.

  “I…I meant Candace, obviously. Carrie is her mother’s name, and that’s her to the right,” Denny said, gesturing.

  “So, first question. Why didn’t you tell us your daughter and her mother were therianthropes?” I asked, slapping the tabletop.

  “What? No. They’re human!” he insisted.

  “Bullshit,” I replied. “All three of these heads came from active therianthropes—these two,” I pointed at ‘Candace’ and the head to her left, “displayed as lions. That one was a jaguar. Now, would you like to amend your statement or just knock off the bullshit?”

  He sat there a minute, then started laughing.

  “You know,” he said after about a minute, “I told them this shit wouldn’t work. But oh no, Oeillet decreed that we had to do it, and so mote it be!”

  “Seriously?” I said.

  “Oh yeah, Jesse. Seriously. Well,” he said, eyes twinkling, “I’ve never actually spoken with the prince, just his minions here on Earth, and that’s what they told me.”

  “You’re speaking pretty freely for someone who signed a contract with a devil,” I replied.

  “Well, Jesse, that’s because I ran my contract past legal,” he said. “Oh, I changed a few names, and said it was for a novel I was writing, but even our guys couldn’t find fault in it. Since all I fed them was data, I’m sure the tight asses on the Committee will want to ‘debrief’ me. Which means QMG’s paying the bills and putting m
e somewhere safe for the next fifty or so years.”

  I hated to admit it, but he had a fucking point.

  “So, who are these three?” I asked him, pulling a chair up to the table.

  “Not a fucking clue, man,” he replied with a shrug. “I’m surprised they were able to send someone out after you, honestly. I don’t know what Other Dave did to my computer, but I wasn’t able to get a message out.”

  “I guess we got lucky,” I said.

  “Or there’s someone else working for them here,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

  “Uh huh. Like we hadn’t thought of that, Mr. Spock,” I replied. “That one isn’t going to save your ass.”

  “Oh, I know. Honestly, I don’t know if there’s another agent of Oeillet working for QMG or not. If there is, he’s probably here in Austin though.”

  “You think?” I said, returning the eyebrow lift.

  “That looks so much more natural on you,” Denny said with a laugh. “I had to practice in front of a mirror for hours to get mine right, and you just lift away.”

  “It’s a gift,” I said. “Anything else you want to tell me before the Spanish Inquisition arrives?”

  “I was expecting the Spanish Inquisition when you walked through the door,” Denny replied.

  Some people will ruin a perfect setup. On the other hand, they have no sense of humor whatsoever.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The Pros from Dover—they were from Navarro County where Dover used to stand—came in and took over Denny’s interrogation. I went upstairs, plugged in my headphones, and had lunch.

  “Amerika” by Rammstein was pummeling my eardrums at levels that were damaging to my hearing when I felt a tug at my pants. Looking down, I almost lost my lunch. Buschgrossmutter was grinning up at me with green teeth.

  I scanned the room for the only German speakers I knew, Diindiisi or Wilson. No such luck. I manned up and pulled my headphones down around my neck.

  “Ja?” I asked.

  Hey, it is the only German I know.

  Buschgrossmutter replied in a lyrical, flowing language that reminded me of trees growing and birds twittering.

  Fuck me running, Elven.

  “Sorry, Buschgrossmutter, I don’t speak Elven,” I replied.

  She tried what I assume was Knaanic.

  “Nope, not up on that one either. I can find someone to translate, if you’d like,” I said, rising.

  She reached out a hand, snagged my pants, and dragged me back into my chair, then hopped up next to me in another. She looked around the entire room, then leaned in close.

  “We must talk,” she whispered to me.

  She sounded like Doctor Ruth from the TV commercial.

  “You old faker,” I replied, laughing.

  “Hush. I’m trying to teach that arrogant elf some manners,” she replied with a sniff.

  “He could use them,” I replied. “Why do we need to talk?”

  “There are powers at work here,” she replied. “Ancient powers.”

  “Yes.”

  “They are angry,” Buschgrossmutter said. “Apocalyptically angry.”

  “Are we talking end of the universe, or just nuking Texas off the map?” I asked.

  “The things seeking to return to power in this world are not to be made fun of!” she replied.

  “That I know,” I said. “We’ve dealt with them in the past, and will deal with them in the future.”

  “You’ve dealt with Chaos and Order allied before?” she scoffed.

  “Sorta. Kinda. Well, not really—but Chaos was chasing us. I’m not sure when they allied, though,” I said. I was going to flesh out that weak ass answer when my phone started playing “Gallows Pole.”

  I pulled it out and read the message.

  “Look I’ve got to take this,” I said. “Tell you what, tell Cathe what’s happening, and have her explain it to me,” I said.

  “Humans!” Buschgrossmutter hissed as I ran for the ready room.

  Apparently the local werewolf population had decided it was time to have a Moot. Which wouldn’t normally be in our sights, but they’d decided to hold the Moot in the greenbelt along Walnut Creek, which was a bit upsetting to the residents of the neighborhoods nearby. The werewolves were chasing folks from the Gracywoods Neighborhood Park, and they were in the process of painting occult symbols—in human blood, of course—on the concrete pad near the play area.

  To top things off, two APD cops had gone missing; everyone from Chief Holly of the APD to the lowest recruit figured the cops were either werewolf shit in the making, or part of the fun. There are days I hate this job, really.

  Goodhart was waiting for me outside the garage. At least it was a nice day for a run in the park wearing fifty pounds of gear.

  “Stewart’s team is at Quarry Lake, looking into reports of a catfish that’s decided to spontaneously evolve legs and go walking on dry land,” he said.

  “Isn’t Florida overrun with walking catfish?” I asked, tossing my bag in the rear of the Tahoe.

  “Yeah, but most of them aren’t eighteen feet long, and don’t eat subcompacts full of college students,” Goodhart replied. “Ted’s Interspatial Trauma Services is running down a pack of chupacabra in Buda, and I loaned the Brute Squad out to Dallas for something in the tunnels under Cowboys Stadium, so you’re on your own.”

  “Just another day, then,” I replied.

  “Yeah, just watch your backstops around there—the park is surrounded by apartment complexes, and APD hasn’t gotten all of them cleared yet.”

  “You’re fucking kidding me,” I said, giving him a disgusted look.

  “Nope. If you’re lucky, you’ll have clear impact zones by the time you get there,” he said.

  “Well, that’s just fine,” I said. “Anything else?”

  “Yeah, see if you can figure out why the damn werewolves have suddenly gone completely mad. Oh, and try to be done before dark,” Goodhart said, walking inside. “I’d hate to have to hunt your team down and inhume them.”

  I stood there, shocked, then climbed into the Tahoe and slapped Johnson on the shoulder.

  “The hell was that all about?” Padgett asked from the back seat.

  “That? That was Goodhart’s way of covering his ass when we shoot up an entire city park,” I replied as Johnson started the Tahoe.

  APD had its command post for the incident in the Austin Community College parking lot at Metric and Stonehollow. Captain Brown of APD SWAT was there, waiting for us with a sardonic grin on her face.

  “Jesse,” she said when I stepped out of the Tahoe.

  “Sarah,” I replied. “What’s the situation?”

  “Oh, you know, another normal day here in Austin,” she said, gesturing to someone behind her. “Ten to fifteen werewolves running through Gracywoods Park, marking trees and eatin’ people.”

  “They’re actually marking the trees?” Holt asked.

  “Yeah, they do that from time to time, especially if they’re holding a Moot,” I replied.

  Harvey, the leader of the Rodent Liberation Front, walked up behind Brown and coughed gently.

  “Oh, yeah, Jesse, Mr. Dowd here says he’s got some information for you,” Brown said.

  “Man, don’t go in there,” Dowd said nervously.

  He’s a wererabbit. Walking across an empty parking lot makes him nervous.

  “I’ll bite, why not?” I asked.

  “Because it’s a fucking trap, you idiot!” Dowd replied. “Look, man, there’s this new group here in town trying to shake up the entire power structure within the therianthrope community. They offered us a chance to join in, but it wasn’t worth it.”

  “Us?” Diindiisi asked.

  “Us. As in the RLF,” Dowd said. “Sure, we’re not likely to be eaten by the other ‘thropes, but you never know when some werewolf asshole is going to decide he wants a really big rabbit dinner, you know?”

  “Which has what to do wit
h the situation in the park?” I asked.

  “Look, you know what I do for a living,” Dowd said. He taught software engineering at UT. “I’ve got personas on a bunch of sites these guys hang out on, so I can keep an eye on these assholes—most of them are high on my ‘you might eat a fellow ‘thrope’ list—and their concept of security online would make David Caminer roll over in his grave. They started talking about doing some shit here so they could grab some QMG people and ‘earn their upgrades.’”

  “Makes sense,” I said. “Who are these guys?”

  “I’m not sure exactly who’s in the park,” Dowd said. “I gave a list of the loudest assholes to Captain Brown here. Most of them are frat brah, muscle head types. Usually they’re not that bad, they talk a lot of shit in the forums, but the last couple of weeks they’ve been really talking about this secret thing that’s going to let them take over the city, give them all the women they want, etc. The usual pack power fantasy.”

  “You don’t think it’ll work out for them?” Diindiisi asked.

  “No’m, I don’t,” Dowd said with a grimace. “Creepy contracts signed in blood usually don’t work out the way you think they will. But they’re talking about causing the Blood Moon Eclipse, whatever the hell that is.”

  “Usually it’s an astronomical event—the moon turns red during the eclipse because of atmospheric interference,” Brown said, shrugging. “The next one is in January.”

  “Do therianthropes get any special powers from eclipses?” Diindiisi asked Dowd.

  “As if,” he scoffed. “If they happen during a full moon, it can be painful—you start to transform, and then just kind of hang there, transforming, until the eclipse stops.”

  “It could be a spell,” I said, tapping my chin. “We’ll check it out when we get back to the office. How’s the evacuation coming?

  “We’ve got most of the buildings clear on the far side of the creek,” Brown said.

  “You’re going in there after I told you it was a trap?” Dowd asked.

  “Yeah,” I replied.

  “That’s…that’s fucking insane,” Dowd said.