by Steve McHugh
We got up from the table and Liz offered both of us her hand. “Remember what I said, Nathan,” she told me. “I wish you luck in your investigation.”
“I’ll find out who did this. I’ll stop them before they come after you.”
“I know you’ll try,” she said with a smile, and led us both into the front room, where Edward was talking to Mortimer about the weather.
Edward motioned for Mortimer to wait for a second and came over to shake hands with Grayson and me. “It was a pleasure,” he said with a genuine smile.
“Thanks for your time,” I told him and Liz opened the front door and we stepped through into the hallway.
The unmistakable sound of a gun being fired echoed out of the front door almost the second the door was shut behind us. I spun and kicked the door as hard as possible, but it didn’t budge.
“Damn runes,” I snapped.
“Let me try,” Grayson said as a second shot rang out. He kicked the door just under the lock and the entire side of the doorframe disintegrated from the power behind it.
We were both through the ruined door before I’d had time to consider what Grayson had done. Edward was on the floor, blood staining the carpet beneath him. “Go,” Grayson shouted, “I’ll check if he’s alive.”
A third shot sounded out from the kitchen, and I vaulted over the nearby couch and ran toward the noise. I entered the room and saw Mortimer, his expression fixed on Liz as she stood up. He turned slightly and fired the gun at me, tearing through the plaster near where my head would have been if I hadn’t dived aside, over the kitchen table.
I stood in time to see the first bullet take Liz in the jaw, almost completely removing it, and spinning her aside. The second slammed into the back of her head, pushing her onto the floor. I was already back on my feet and moving toward the shooter, when he put his foot on the nape of her neck, holding her steady so that a third crashed into the back of her head.
Mortimer spun toward me; but rage and power fueled my run and I collided with him, forcing him back over the breakfast table and through the balcony doors with a crash. He slammed the gun into the side of my head and tried to push me away, but I wasn’t about to be denied. I blasted him in the chest with a torrent of air.
Mortimer was thrown back at the balcony, which tore like paper from the force of the magic I’d used. A second later Mortimer impacted with the roof of whoever’s car was under him. He wasn’t going to be getting back up anytime soon. Except he then rolled off the car roof onto the ground and stuck one finger up at me.
I didn’t think twice and jumped from the balcony, using my air magic to slow myself before I hit the ground. The amount of magic I expelled to make the considerable fall doable without injury caused the ground beneath my feet to crack as I impacted.
Mortimer ran toward his car, and his head whipped around to see me stalking toward him. He raised his gun in my direction, but a ball of flame struck the weapon before he could fire, and he dropped it.
I walked toward him without pause. He reached inside the car boot and I sprinted the remaining few feet, my fist connecting with the side of his jaw, snapping him around and dumping him on the ground. I kicked him in the ribs as hard as my magically enhanced strength allowed and felt one of them buckle from the blow.
He rolled aside from a second kick and drew a small silver dagger, waving it toward me as he got back to his feet.
Any questions I might have asked about why he was suddenly trying to kill me would have resulted in him telling me to go fuck myself with various implements. I knew the type, I’d spent several hours cutting pieces off the type, and it normally takes a lot of effort for a small benefit. People like him, sent in to kill in such a brazen manner, aren’t meant to be able to tell anyone anything, because they don’t know anything.
He came at me with the knife, which I pushed aside with a blast of air and drove my fist into his stomach, before unleashing a second blast, which threw him back over his car’s bonnet and to the ground beside his vehicle.
Mortimer quickly ran to the rear of his car and drew a silver machete out of the still-open boot of his car. He waved it around wildly, before running at me. He screamed like a madman the entire time he came at me, a lunatic given form. I wasn’t about to take chances.
I slammed a blast of air into his chest, probably breaking a few more ribs in the process, knocking his weapon aside, and throwing him back up against his car’s rear windscreen, which shattered from the impact.
“They deserved it,” he said as he got back to his feet.
“I don’t care,” I told him and wrapped coils of air around his arm, increasing the pressure, wrapping it tighter and tighter like an anaconda until Mortimer screamed out in pain when the bone snapped like a brittle twig.
“The Reavers should have stayed dead,” I said.
The shadow that was suddenly cast over me was the first clue I had, allowing me to move in time to dodge the griffin’s attack, and put a little distance between us.
“You’re not dead. I’m sort of impressed,” the griffin told me.
I released the air magic around Mortimer and threw it at the griffin’s wings, which couldn’t handle the newly twisting and turning current. It blew him back several feet. After putting some space between me and the greatest threat, I sprinted toward Mortimer, grabbing the silver machete without pause, and driving it into his stomach.
“Stay put,” I told him, punching him in the face, knocking him out, before I pulled the machete out.
I turned back to the griffin, who had recovered from his momentary lack of equilibrium and held a sword in one hand. “I’m going to cut your head off for what you’ve done,” he seethed.
“Anything in particular?” I asked as I shrugged off my jacket, tossing it onto the top of a nearby car. “I mean, there’s probably a long list of things I’ve done to piss people off.”
“I’ve changed my mind. First of all I’m going to cut out your damn tongue.”
“Good luck with that.”
The griffin’s massive wings beat once and then he swooped toward me, the sword gleaming in his hand. I readied myself for a fight. And then he stopped. Not slowed to stop, just ceased to move toward me. His head snapped up toward the building. I followed his gaze and found Grayson standing on the ruined balcony of the Williamses’ home. He was just standing there, staring at the griffin without anger or concern. I couldn’t have told you what he was thinking if someone had offered me a million pounds to do so.
The griffin screamed. Not from pain, but out of pure fear. He saw Grayson standing motionless and wanted to be as far away from him as possible. He flew back several feet and then dove toward Mortimer, grabbing him before I could get to them and flying off above the trees.
I glanced up at Grayson. What the hell had happened here?
CHAPTER 9
Grayson contacted the LOA and they arrived about five minutes after the griffin flew away, leaving me twiddling my thumbs. They asked over and over again why we were visiting the Williamses, presumably hoping that we were going to break under their incredible interrogation techniques, while they checked out who we were.
Once they finally got the information about who I was, and that Grayson was an ex-LOA doctor, they backed off and gave us some space.
“So what the hell happened?” I whispered to Grayson. “That griffin was terrified of you.”
“He was a little bit, wasn’t he? Presumably he knew he couldn’t take on two of us and the reality of the situation hit him. It happens.”
“No, it doesn’t,” I argued. “But I assume you’re not going to tell me what you are.”
Grayson looked me in the eyes. “That’s a pretty good bet.”
“Well, that’s a fucking surprise,” Agent Kelly Jensen shouted as she made her way through the throng of people who had come to clean up the mess that Grayson and I had been involved in.
“Yes, yes, I’m involved in something bad again,” I said with just enough
annoyance in my voice to make it known that taunting me was probably a bad idea.
“Actually I’m surprised you’re still alive. Everyone seems to want you dead.”
“Apparently I’m really popular with a certain demographic of psychopath. Makes me feel all warm inside.”
“Still no ideas why everyone wants you dead though?”
“They’re Reavers,” I told her. “They hold a grudge.”
Agent Jensen appeared shocked for a second before regaining her composure. “You sure about that, that it was the Reavers, I mean?”
I nodded. “The void in the hospital, he showed me their mark. They’re Reavers. Back from the dead, which is where their entire fucking group should have stayed.”
Anger flashed across Agent Jensen’s face; apparently she wasn’t a big fan of the Reavers either. “Damn it,” she snapped, before taking her phone out of her pocket and walking off.
“She’s not very happy,” Grayson said. “I assume you’re planning on visiting Avalon.”
“I was loath to return to Avalon, especially considering it might put people I cared about in danger, but hopefully I could get in, get what I needed, and leave before anyone tried to kill me. According to Liz, that’s where the person in charge is, and she told me I’d find answers to the Reavers there.”
“You know that if she’s right, then you arriving there is going to cause all kinds of problems the second you step foot in the place. You need to take someone with you that you can trust.”
“You offering your services, Doc?”
Grayson shook his head. “Avalon isn’t very welcoming to me. I don’t think my presence would help matters.”
“Wait, you worked for the LOA. For Olivia. And Avalon doesn’t like you?”
“I doubt Olivia made it well known that I was helping her. I’m sorry, Nathan, I can’t accompany you.”
I was about to say more when Agent Jensen reappeared. “Do you know anything else about the murderer?”
“His name was Mortimer,” I said. “He was a guard of some sort. Is there anything in Avalon’s records about him?”
Jensen shook her head. “Not a damn thing. We’ll find him though. And that griffin. Just try to stay out of trouble for a while. Are you going to be staying at your house?”
“I’ll be around,” I said, not wanting to tell her about Avalon. “You’ve got my number if you need me.”
Jensen didn’t appear to like my answer, but accepted it without comment and walked off again.
When she was out of earshot, I turned to Grayson and said, “After that, I’m even more convinced that something is off here.”
“You think she was lying?”
“I think the SOA aren’t above keeping information to themselves if they think it’ll benefit them long term. Something isn’t right, and I can’t quite put my finger on it.”
“Even more off than Reavers wanting you dead?”
“People want me dead quite often, it’s an occupational hazard for living the life I do. But there’s more to this than revenge on Liz and me. The Reavers stayed quiet for a long time. Liz’s friend investigated them when they first reappeared, but that was forty years ago, and he was murdered for his trouble. What have they been doing between then and now? They’ve reappeared now for a very good reason, and that reason has to do with Felix Novius.”
I paused for a moment while I tried to figure out what I was missing. “I’m sure the SOA know more than they’re willing to share. The question is why? Unless they’re investigating the Reavers themselves. That could be it; maybe the SOA were looking into the Reavers, but they couldn’t shut them down before they did all of this.”
“You think they’re keeping it quiet so as not to cause any political problems for themselves?” Grayson asked.
“It’s certainly in keeping with Kay. He wouldn’t want to be embarrassed by the knowledge that his people were investigating something that blew up in his face. Kay was angry enough about the Vanguard attacks that took place at Hades’s compound last year. If it got out that two threats attacked Avalon personnel in the space of twelve months, people might start asking about his suitability, and the professionalism of his people.”
“You need to talk to Kay?”
“No, Lucie Moser. Kay will lie, and lie well. Lucie isn’t stupid, she’s his deputy, so she knows what’s going on. I can’t imagine her allowing anyone under her command to fuck up an investigation and then hide it. Looks like I have more reasons to go to Avalon.”
“Anything you want me to should check while you’re gone?”
“Can you keep an eye on things around here? If the Reavers have gone after me, they might go after others. Contact the LOA too, see if they know anything. That okay with you?”
Grayson nodded. “Of course. I’m happy to help. These people need stopping, and I doubt they’re going to be satisfied with the murders of the Williamses.”
“You’re not wrong,” I said with a heavy heart. I hadn’t been quick enough to save Liz or Edward. I wouldn’t make that mistake again. Their murderers would be brought to justice.
“Nathan Garrett,” one of the SOA agents called out.
“Yeah, what’s up?” I shouted back.
A young man walked over to me, a clipboard in one hand and pen in the other. “You’re Nathan Garrett?”
“I hope so; I’d hate to have spent all my life pissing people off only to find I have the wrong name.”
The agent didn’t smile.
“You’re free to go.” He turned to Grayson. “You too, Doc. If we need anything more, we’ll let you know.”
“Make sure Liz and Edward get Avalon funerals,” I said.
“They’re not Avalon. They both quit.”
I grabbed the agent by his shirt and dragged him over to me. “They both get treated like damn heroes, or I come back, find you, and stuff this clipboard up your ass. I’ve had a shit day; people I liked have been killed in front of me. They worked for Avalon, they deserve an Avalon funeral.”
“We’ll arrange it,” Agent Jensen said, as she arrived next to me. “They’ll be taken care of, I promise.”
I released the agent. “Sorry,” I said softly. “Long day.”
He smoothed down his shirt, his eyes always on me, as if challenging me to continue my manhandling of him. He wanted a fight right there and then, and that was all because I’d let the day’s events make me angry and it had spilled out onto someone who was undeserving of it.
“Sorry,” I repeated and then walked off back to my car with Grayson.
“Are you okay?” he asked as we climbed back into the Jag.
“No,” I admitted. “But when I find more of those Reavers, and wring their murdering necks, I will be.”
I dropped Grayson off outside Tommy’s main office in Basingstoke, and made a call, which got picked up on the third ring.
“Hello,” a man asked.
“Gordon, is that you?”
“Nathaniel, what a pleasure, it’s been too long. How are you?”
Gordon Summers was the pack aide to Matthew Sheppard, who just happened to be the male alpha for the largest werewolf pack in England, and one of the largest in all of Europe. He was also one of the twelve members of the werewolf contingent to Avalon. Basically, Matthew was a very big deal, and a very powerful man.
“I’d love to chat,” I said. “But I need your help. Are you around?”
“Come over, we’ll be here,” Gordon said, his voice immediately serious.
I thanked him and hung up. I hadn’t seen Gordon or Matthew for a few years, but I’d heard that Matthew had finally appointed a female alpha, something the pack had been sorely missing, as it had allowed Matthew’s enemies to try and lay claim to his pack, resulting in the deaths of innocent people.
I stopped my car at the entrance to what, the last time I was here, had been a large field. It had been changed into a car park, albeit a nice one with lots of flowers and trees around. There was a hut at the far e
nd, and I noticed another two guards standing outside it. One of the two men standing at the gate walked over to me, sniffing the air as I lowered the car’s window. I didn’t recognize either of them. Matthew had eliminated any trace of the taint that his enemies had put in his pack, and it had grown in stature and power as a result.
He signaled to his friend, who pulled the gate aside and motioned for me to drive through. I did as asked and parked before getting out into what was now drizzle. I was grateful the field had gone; otherwise, I doubted I would have been able to get my car out without a tow truck.
The walk from the parking area to the pack’s main living area was a few minutes, giving me time to notice the snipers who were still placed in the trees above me. Matthew was even more careful than before about his and his pack’s safety.
I entered a massive clearing where the pack met once a month. Several children were running around the place; the weather not really an issue to them. I walked past one of three huge fire-pits, when I heard someone call my name.
Gordon, umbrella in tow so that his expensive suit didn’t get wet, limped toward me, a smile on his face. He embraced me with one arm, keeping the umbrella above us both at all times. “It really is good to see you,” he said.
“I keep meaning to come over and say hi, but the last time I was here—” The last time I was there I took the pack to war. Not all of them had made it back. “I need someone I can trust.”
“You want me or Matthew?”
I shook my head. “Matthew’s too important. And you’re too—”
“Injured?” Gordon asked.
I stopped walking a few feet from Matthew and Gordon’s house. “Really? You don’t think I’d ask you because of your limp? I saw you fight; I’d ask you in a heartbeat. But without you, Matthew would be intolerable.”
A recognizable laugh came from the front door of the house. I hadn’t heard Matthew open it, but he stood on top of the steps leading up to the beautiful home, wearing only a pair of jeans. He jumped down the stairs and ran over to me, grabbing me in a massive hug.
