by Doug Burbey
DK barely noticed. The need to kill and destroy those that were hunting him egged him on, and he reveled in it.
He glanced at the man trying to roll his chair towards Kayter, but each push of his weak arms barely moved the chair. His mind blared innocent, but the sound of the others coming in through the front door called to him, and he headed that direction. Dropping down to his belly he crawled through the door. The amateur's that they were, they had gathered, glancing around wildly - new people coming in and trying to assess the situation.
Easy. Try to kill me, will you? I don't think so. Not today pogues.
With quick fluid movements, he sighted in, caressed the Vulture's trigger, and moved smoothly the next. The first two shots caused the group to freeze, a sure sign of their lack of actual combat experience, then they started to move. But by then he'd dropped two more and seriously injured another. He grabbed a grenade, pulled the pin releasing the spoon handle, and started to slow count. When he reached two, he tossed it out and sprinted towards the opposite end of the lab, not bothering to even try to stay low.
He grabbed the guy and shoved the wheelchair through the door as the grenade exploded four seconds later.
Damn, it should have gone off a second earlier. Crappy surplus shit.
But even as he thought that, something in him howled with glee at the screams he could hear behind him.
A man lay dead in the hall, his head all but severed from his body. He stepped over it; that is one he didn't need to worry about coming up behind him.
Kayter stood in the small space where the stairs led up to the next floor. The wheelchair was wedged behind her under the stairs as she faced the door, her sword drawn.
His mouth opened to tell her to get out of the way, but the dead man in the hallway stopped him. Swords didn't create ricochets.
"ETA, Andrew?"
"Five mikes."
DK checked the remote for the C-4. A basic remote and he'd planned to level the building so even if they found a few, they wouldn't find them all. And with as many as he had planted, they'd all die.
The door rattled, and his body reacted, Vulture up and aimed at the door before his mind caught up. Kayter went to the door, her sword ready.
DK fought back a snarl. In this confined space the sword actually worked better, so he waited, regardless of the rage urging him to pull the trigger and spill more blood. He clenched his jaw. He was in control, not the Rage.
A man burst in, gun tracking left to right, which was his mistake. Kayter stood to his right and as he panned towards her, she swung.
Part of DK admired her exquisite control as the sword slashed through the man's neck via the narrow gap between his vest and helmet, ending his life before he even knew what happened. The man collapsed revealing the rest of the squad behind him.
"Down," the word snarled out to Kayter and he fired the second she cleared his field of fire. His nagging had gotten her to respond immediately. His first bullet slammed into the face of the man coming in right behind, shattering his goggles as it shattered the bridge of his nose then penetrated his brain before he had a chance to dive out of the way. The Vulture barked till the bolt locked back to the rear signaling an empty magazine. Declan ejected the empty magazine and quickly replaced it. There were now two dead men lying there but he'd seen at least three more.
"Declan, we have to get them out of here. They're too weak." Her voice seemed to come from a different place and time as he fought to turn his head to look at her.
"Noted. Soon as we kill the last of these fuckers." He stepped out to turn to the right but a man hiding flush against the wall knocked the Vulture aside and slammed at DK's face with the butt of his weapon.
In a move that he knew he'd regret in the morning if he lived till then, DK leaned back, letting his shoulder rest on the wall of the building, the butt of the rifle barely scraping his nose as the attacker became overbalanced.
With a huge shove of his shoulder, he threw himself forward catching the man as he tried to rebalance and they both went down. He heard Kayter attack the ones on the other side, but his vision grayed at the sides and all he could see was the man struggling beneath him. Noise sounded in his ears but he ignored it, needing to destroy this threat, to take his victim's power in blood.
His world coated in red and he slammed the heavy butt stock of the Vulture into the man's face, again and again. He felt the bones crush between his strikes. The spray of blood urging him to hit harder, even as he licked the sweet salt and copper off his lips.
Damn sad weak human.
The anger of such a waste drove him to hit harder, even after the man beneath him had quit moving.
Now… you…know…who…has…power…me…
A touch on his shoulder had him slashing back with his weapon as he spun, bringing it up to sight on the new threat.
Kayter stood there, well back arms open in a non-threatening gesture. "Declan? Can you hear me?"
Huh, what? Who's talking to me?
DK shook his head and fought to push down the rage, concentrating on a pale Kayter and the idling Suburban next to her.
"Yeah." His voice came out low and thick, almost animalistic and that shocked him more than anything else.
"We need to get the Fae loaded and out of here before more get here. Help me?" Her voice low, cajoling.
DK glanced up to see a white-faced Andrew standing next to the big vehicle looking at him.
"Yes. Hurry up. What the hell are you waiting for? Need me to remind you to breathe too?" He snapped, stalking back to the stairwell and ignoring the blood dripping off him as he walked. The Fae had their eyes closed, which he thought might be a good thing. He pushed the first chair over to the Suburban. Andrew had opened the door and Kayter lifted each of them in with an ease that either meant they weighed even less than he thought, or she was stronger than he realized.
He started to turn to go get the last one when Andrew called back to him. "Jesus, here use this." A blue item flew towards his face and he caught it by reflex. The soft fabric of the towel registered, and he looked at Andrew blankly.
"You're dripping blood. I don't need that in my car." His voice held no humor and DK fought to push the rage down because it wanted to start killing everything.
He stood there swaying for a moment, then snapped open his eyes that had somehow closed without his knowledge. A few quick wipes got the blood and other substances off his Vulture, and he ran it over his face and chest but suspected he just smeared it around more than anything else.
The remaining male sat slumped in the wheelchair. For a moment Declan worried he'd died but as he moved over, the man's eyes flickered open and latched onto his face.
"That their blood?" His voice a soft whisper.
"Yes." He grabbed the chair and started to push it towards the door.
"Good," the man said a hint of vicious pleasure in his voice. "I hope you hurt them."
"I just might have."
They passed the man he'd beaten to death and Declan felt nothing but numb. They got the man in the car and then climbed in as Andrew started it up and started to drive.
"One second." He fumbled on the outside pouch of the bag that had contained the C-4 and pulled out the remote detonator. When he'd absconded with this years ago, he'd always thought it would be his place he'd blow up, not something from a horror movie.
"Go," he said as he turned to look at the building. More cars were showing up as Andrew pulled away. He watched to time it perfectly and a figure on another rooftop caught his attention. Too far away but the light reflected off glowing blue eyes too bright to be normal and a body he’d recognized at an instinctive level.
Shane? Are you part of this?
He pushed off the thought of watching the men behind them rush into the building and he pressed the button.
"One, two, thr-" The blast wave slammed into their car, rocking it violently. He watched as flames, dust, and debris blew out the sides of the building and it crumpled
in on itself.
"What the fuck?" Andrew shouted as he tried to keep control of the car and the entire building started to collapse into itself.
"Holly shiiit! That was way more than what I put in. Those assholes must have wired the place themselves too. Oops, but damn they are seriously closed for business now.” Declan’s voice carried and the three Fae, more conscious than he realized, started to laugh. A sharp undulating sound that made the hairs on his neck rise and he turned back to look at them wondering how sane they still were.
The bag of Reset hung at his side, both a life jacket and a weight that could drown him.
He closed his eyes and didn’t think as they drove away from the remains of the building, with the Fae still laughing.
They had been driving for about three minutes when Andrew broke the strained silence. The laughing had died down after a minute, and the unspoken words hung in the air like ticking time bombs.
"Where are we going?" Andrew asked not looking away from the road where he drove exactly one mile over the speed limit.
"My place. It's defensible, not that I think they'll attack us there."
"What about these guys? They need medical treatment." Kayter said from the back.
He shot a sharp glance at her. "None of them are hurt, are they?"
"No, not like that. But they are going to require special care to recover."
Declan grunted in acknowledgment, his mind drifting to the Reset and the need for clarity instead of blood. But not here, not in front of these people. He wouldn’t take it.
"I'll call that Fae, Art something. He can come get them."
"Grandpa," one of them muttered.
"Then that works even better."
They fell into silence, not speaking until Andrew backed up to his garage. Declan climbed out and opened it up and then the three of them got the pale and shaking people to his couch and recliner. He couldn't even begrudge them for sitting in his recliner when he got a good look at them. Pale, wasted, holes in their arms from the IV's and the location of the feeding tube sluggishly bleeding. He'd seen dead people that looked healthier.
Without a comment, he headed to his vault, tossed the Reset in it, and locked the door behind him. As he came back up the stairs he grabbed his phone and found the card from Art. Dialing the number as he walked back in with all of them looking at him with expressions he ignored, heading for a beer.
As it rang he tossed one to Andrew and Kayter, who caught them but didn't open them. They just watched him.
Get it to-fucking-gether, Declan. You can't dose up before the Fae gets here. That's why he smelled Fae when you cut yourself. Probably not a good idea to let a pissed off Fae think you are a vampire. Get a hold of yourself.
The other end answered as he was about to take a drink and he set it back down, his hand shaking. Reaching down deep he pulled on his own energy and bottled the rage back up. He had to grab onto the counter to stay standing.
"Yes?" The cultured voice on the other end sounded bored and impatient.
"Yeah, I need to speak to Art."
"This is he."
Declan blew out a breath and concentrated on not looking like an idiot in front of the others.
"I found your missing peeps. Well, three of them. One woman, two men. One of them called you Grandpa?"
All the boredom stripped from the man's, well Fae's, voice. "You have them, where are they?"
"My place. They're not healthy. They'll need a hospital or something."
"I have healers. Where. Are. They?" The voice had turned to nitrogen and if Declan hadn't been fighting to stay conscious he might have been impressed.
Declan gave him his address and the line cut off before he could say anything else. He dropped the phone on the counter and drained the beer. It helped. He stood there for a moment then glanced at the two people, friends, staring at him.
"Fae incoming. My guess is they'll be getting here real quick. One of these guys is a relative of Art's I think."
"What was that?" Kayter's voice was quiet. "I've never seen you lose it like that on a demon."
He didn't look at her, just grabbed two extra beers and walked outside to wait.
Chapter 46 – Everyone Lies
He sank down into the chair on the patio, his eyes on the drive to his house. A long pull on the beer in his hand slid down his throat and DK closed his eyes and waited. But the relief didn't come, just the slight numbing of the rage, the pain, and the knowledge he didn't want to face. He set the bottle down on the ground carefully, resisting the urge to chuck it against the wall, to feel it shatter, revel in the destruction.
Picking up glass sucks. Do you really want to be finding glass slivers for the next six months? You already have one bottle out there. Granted I will not live that long, so it might not be an issue.
That almost caused him to chuck it but instead, he grabbed the next beer, twisted the top off, and poured it down his throat. He closed his eyes as he heard the door open and close behind him.
"I'm taking off. Kayter's with the Fae." Andrew's voice still had a flat quality to it and he spoke from a few feet behind DK.
"Kay. Thanks. You did good." DK didn't turn to look at him, instead focusing his attention on the trees and their gently moving leaves and needles.
"Only 'cause we got people out. You need to wash up. You’re a fucking mess." His footsteps sounded on the cement, each one sounding like a nail in the coffin that was DK's life. Andrew paused. "Declan?"
"Yeah."
"We’re fighting our own people? They did this? They’re working with the demons?" His voice didn't shake but DK heard the same emotion that beat at his heart.
"Yeah. I don’t know who the bad guys are anymore."
Silence lay between them until Andrew started to move again. "Then I guess I better get a better zero set in on the Bear, it was a few mils off. I'll be over this weekend. We also need more ammo. You need to get the kid onboard full time, get Greg back into the loop pronto and… pull your god damn shit together man."
Something surged in him and he closed his eyes as he heard the door to the Suburban close and then the rumble of the big engine fire up. The vehicle turned and headed down the drive and DK watched him go with eyes that had gotten some dust in them.
Damn wind, always blowing things in your eyes. Need to keep sunglasses out here.
He sat alone, enjoying the false sense of peace that the birds and the music of the trees imparted for a few quiet minutes. Lifting the bottle to his mouth he frowned when he realized it was empty. He set it down and grabbed the next one. He'd need more in a few minutes, but for now the buzz started to kick in and things didn't feel as bad.
Should do it now, while I can still slip in and out without noise.
The beer, the quiet, and feeling the rage trickle away made him almost calm by the time an unfamiliar vehicle came up the drive.
Why the hell didn't I get an – oh. Huh, guess it helps to have your phone with you.
Declan shrugged and took a sip of his beer. Only one left unopened and getting up felt like too much effort at this point.
The big vehicle, a fancy Escalade or something like that with lots of room in back, comfy seats, and cost way more than he'd ever spend on a car, pulled to a stop. The two front doors opened, and Art and another man stepped out. They looked around and headed right towards him.
I really don't have the energy to deal with this shit. Just get your people and go.
Timing it perfectly, he started to talk the minute they were close enough to hear him without needing to shout.
"In through the door into the living room. Your people are in chairs and being taken care of best we can, not being medical people, or having a fucking clue what to actually do. Kayter is in there, she's the one that found them. So, we went and got them. Be nice to her because, besides that, I really don’t give two shits anymore." He didn't look at their faces. The trees were much more interesting and less painful than contemplating your own mortal
ity.
The other man grunted and they both headed in the door. Part of him wanted to get up, to follow and make sure they didn't see too much, but it didn't really matter. The bottle was empty again and he frowned. Picking up the last one, he popped it open even as the door opened behind him.
Art sat down in the chair next to him, his face remote and hard.
"They are yours, right?" DK didn't look at Art but he could see him well enough out of the corner of his eye.
"Yes. Is what they said true?"
"I don't know what they said, so I've got no idea." Declan responded, but he knew and he really didn't want to go there.
"That their blood was being used to make a drug called Reset. A drug that pushes down the rage that's a side effect of overexposure to demon blood." His voice held no emotion that Declan could hear.
"Yep.” he took a drink of beer to keep any other words locked away.
Art jerked his head in a sharp nod and rose, the door opening again. DK focused on the trees, wondering if the Fae would kill him from behind and if he would actually feel it. Kayter's voice told him the odds of him dying right that second was unlikely. Soft, low voices, reassuring, and odd grunts told him they were carrying out the Fae and putting them in the cars.
Another approaching engine sounded, and he looked up frowning.
When did my place become Grand Central Station? Can't everyone just go away so a man can die in peace? Everyone just get your crap and get out…
He drained the beer even as he rose, trying to focus on the car. A practical two-door sedan in non-descript silver gray pulled up and Cordy climbed out. He went still as her head turned and surveyed the Fae, both wounded and whole.
"Are you guys kidding me with this shit? Blow up one fucking secret government torture cell slash lab, and now they think they can just pop in for a visit without a warrant?"
Rage filled him - watching this woman he’d trusted, he’d liked, and what control he’d found slipped again.
Cordelia stalked over to him, and he tried to enjoy the picture she made, slacks that showed off that nice ass and a blouse made of some soft clingy stuff that draped across her chest. Tried to think about sex, about anything except that she’d probably betrayed him, and he needed to kill her.
