“Alright. No need for you to get all huffy. I’ll tell you where Stricken is, but you’re probably going to be upset as usual . . . because he’s right behind you.”
There was the clack of a shotgun bolt being dropped.
Stricken had seemingly materialized out of nowhere, about twenty feet behind Franks. The man must have had gnome-level ninja skills to have gotten that close without any of us seeing him. He had a semiauto shotgun pointed at Franks’ spine and had ditched the suit in exchange for some MCB-style body armor, though he had kept the shades. Of course he’d retained that trademark affectation, even though it was pitch-black out here.
“Don’t move,” Stricken said. Franks was fast, but there was no way he’d be fast enough to not get plugged in the back. Except Stricken must have known that Franks wouldn’t mind getting shot if it meant killing him in the process. “I know what you’re thinking, but I had these armor-piercing slugs made special after our little Project Nemesis debacle. The shells I’ve got loaded in here are filled with a neurotoxin harvested from a jellyfish that is the nastiest poison on Earth. Even as tough as you are, all those redundant organs of yours will basically melt.”
“It’s even lethal to Franks?” Lana said. “Nice.”
“Sugar, this shit would nuke a T. rex.” Stricken looked around the very nervous clearing. He saw me, but I didn’t dare take my gun off the Drekavac in order to shoot Stricken. “So the gang’s all here. Pitt, meet Lana.”
“We met earlier. She kicked me in the head.”
“You told me Pitt was ugly, but I think he’s kinda cute,” she said.
“You say that about everybody . . . And you’ve all met Silas Carver.” Stricken nodded toward the Drekavac. “Cursed witch burner turned whatever the fuck he is now, but we’re going to need a nearly unkillable super monster where we’re going.”
The monster was still staring at Sonya with unquenchable hate, except she was keeping the live grenade pressed against her chest so he didn’t dare move without risking his prize. Sonya was wearing the same face as earlier—her supposedly real one—and she looked downright defiant. It wasn’t that she was unafraid to die. She was obviously terrified. But if you were going to die anyway, better to do it on your terms than on the terms set by some cursed monstrosity determined to punish you for your sins.
“And I believe you’ve all met Sonya, who I originally hadn’t planned on bringing along on our little quest, but I guess Isaac Newton never figured a half breed with spirit blood would dink around with one of his devices and cause a phase shift anomaly either. Trying to make two incompatible types of matter coexist in the same space? What are the odds?”
“Does that mean you know how to fix it?” Sonya asked.
“I do. And I will get that out of you, provided you cooperate. When I looked into your genealogy, it turns out you’re a perfect fit for our endeavor and you’ve got some useful skillsets to boot. So I’m going to roll with this complication and invite Sonya to join our little fellowship. Think of me as your badass Gandalf.”
“Fun,” said Lana. “I don’t have to be the only girl on the team.”
“What team?” Franks growled, probably still thinking about whether getting melted by a jellyfish slug was worth it or not.
“I’m talking about the crew I put together for a very important mission. It took a lot of effort to get you all here. I needed to recruit representatives of certain specific offices and bloodlines in order to tackle one hell of a job. It’s kinda like how I used to put together special teams for the government, only without as much red tape.”
“You’re gonna want to listen to him, Franks,” the succubus warned.
“What are you all jabbering about?” I demanded, because our Mexican standoff had somehow morphed into Stricken’s insane pitch meeting.
“Which brings us to Owen Zastava Pitt, who is contractually obligated to help me save the world because of what he said in front of Veles. Sorry, you know him as Coslow. Same pain in the ass, different millennia. Either way, you really don’t want to go back on your word to somebody like that. Trust me on this one. Along with Franks, that gives us multiple Chosen, and we only need one to survive to fulfill the mission. I love having built-in redundancies.”
“Enough!” shouted the Drekavac. “Be silent, wretched mortal. There is work to be done.”
“I agree with the evil ghost thing,” I muttered.
“Easy there, Mr. Carver. Your work is done for now. Unfortunately for you, I’m no stranger to how your all-important contracts work. I paid for the insurance. You failed to secure my property in the specified time frame. So now you owe me.”
That actually made the Drekavac look away from Sonya. “I grow tired of your words.”
“Read the fine print and then check the clock. You work for me now.”
“Lies,” the Drekavac hissed. But he lifted one hand, and a glowing scroll formed in it. He unfurled it and read, eye beams flicking back and forth. I was tempted to use this distraction to shoot him in the head, but I didn’t know if that would be enough, and I was kind of curious where Stricken was going with this.
“It can’t be.” I hadn’t thought the Drekavac could get any angrier, but I’d been wrong. The blue fire flared up. “What manner of trickery is this?”
“That’s right,” Stricken said. “I insisted on that addendum. You failed to uphold it, so you owe me.”
“These Hunters caused my delay. You must have aided them to deceive and enslave me!”
Stricken laughed. “File a complaint. The Dark Market can send its auditors to check but they’ll discover I’m in the clear. I didn’t give MHI shit. They’re capable of being shockingly meddlesome all on their own. I only stepped in here once you were out of time. Now, in order for you to atone for failing to retrieve the Ward for the rightful auction winner, i.e. me, before the deadline, which was two minutes ago, you now owe me one season of loyal servitude. I only need you for a week, tops. Your other option is your boss punishes you with a thousand years in a fiery pit. I need spectral muscle, and I know how to undo the Vatican Hunter’s little ceremony thing with the ashes so you can be at full strength in time for our mission. You don’t want to spend centuries suffering unimaginable torment. It’s a win-win.”
The Drekavac glared at Stricken. I thought that I’d seen hate on his face for Sonya, but that had been nothing compared to the contempt and loathing the wires curved into now. “You think you can trap me in your web of lies, mortal? You believe that I am some mere pawn like the pathetic monsters you enslaved before? Nay . . . The Hubertian’s rite has temporarily taken me to my final life, but it did nothing to weaken my pride.”
Stricken didn’t dare take his eyes off of Franks even for a second, but for the first time I saw just a crack in the chess master’s calm façade. His pitch wasn’t going the way he’d hoped. “Be smart, Silas. You need me more than I need you. You’re my first-round draft pick, but I’ve got a backup super monster on tap. You’re on your last legs. I’m offering you a really good deal here.”
I could hear Skippy’s helicopter closing in. Search lights were flicking through the trees. My friends were almost here. Franks looked at me and gave a small nod. I think I knew what Franks wanted. I’d shoot Stricken to try and save him. He’d probably shoot the Drekavac. The Drekavac would shoot somebody, hopefully the succubus. And between all that, Sonya would probably do something stupid with that live hand grenade . . .
I shook my head no.
Franks angry nodded yes.
The next couple seconds were going to get really interesting.
Except then Drekavac said, “This affair has insulted my honor. It would be better to be damned to an eternity of suffering than to bend my knee to a serpent like you. I will accept my punishment and suffer a thousand years, content knowing that I killed you all first.”
The monster tore his contract in half.
“So much for being reasonable,” Stricken said as he tossed something on th
e ground.
The world was consumed in a blinding flash.
Chapter 24
I couldn’t see. It felt like the ground had disappeared from beneath my feet. I dropped. Panicked, flailing, only then it felt like gravity changed direction, and I was falling up. I suddenly hit the ground, only from an entirely unexpected direction, and bounced off it with my shoulder.
Facedown, I lay there, dizzy, trying to get my bearings and trying to blink the purple blotches from my vision. The world was spinning but beneath me was smooth concrete, so I held onto that bit of stability, even though I couldn’t understand how the forest had suddenly grown a concrete floor.
Last thing I’d known, the Drekavac had been about to attack, so I rolled over and shifted my gun in the direction that I thought he was in, except I still couldn’t see. Stricken must have used one hell of a flash-bang.
“Franks! Sonya!”
Sonya shouted from somewhere off to my side. “I lost the grenade!”
Fuck!
I couldn’t see a damned thing but I started smacking my hands around on the floor, desperately looking for the deadly little thing before it went off.
“Calm your tits,” Stricken said. “I’ve already taken care of it. If you’re going to be on my team, you’ve got to learn to handle your ordnance better.”
Focusing on his voice, I could sort of make out the shape of Stricken standing there. The surprising part about that was Franks hadn’t immediately shot him. Except when I craned my head in that direction, I saw that Franks was surrounded by several figures who all had guns on him. When I looked behind me, there were more men pointing rifles at me. I was still having a hard time focusing, but they looked like soldiers.
We were no longer outdoors. There was a roof overhead. We were in some big room . . . a garage. There were several trucks parked inside. The succubus extinguished her flaming whip and hopped up on a truck to sit on the hood. There was a really loud AC unit running and no windows on the cinderblock walls. There was no sign of the Drekavac. When I saw that we were all inside a big circular scorch mark burned into the floor, I realized what had happened. It was some variation of the portal rope magic I’d first seen used by the Sanctified Church of the Temporary Mortal Condition.
“You teleported us?” No wonder I was feeling motion sick.
“Well, it was either that or stand around there waiting for old Carver to try and murder everyone, and trust me, he still had plenty of horsepower. You wouldn’t have been able to shut him down in time. You can thank me later.” Stricken had Sonya’s grenade in one hand and the unscrewed fuse in the other. That must have been close. They only have a four or five second fuse. Stricken was faster than he looked. “Take care of that for me.” Stricken tossed the grenade to one of the soldiers, but luckily the surprised man caught it, though he fumbled it, wide-eyed and terrified, a few times before he got it under control.
Sonya threw up. I didn’t know if it was from her almost blowing herself up, or the nausea of falling through a portal to who knew where, but it was an understandable reaction to either event.
I slowly moved my hands away from Cazador so none of Stricken’s guards got the wrong idea. “Where’s the Drekavac?”
“Alabama, for the moment. Hopefully your buddies take his final body out. Otherwise he’ll be coming after us soon. How soon, I don’t know. I’m a little fuzzy on the details of how he travels long distance.” Stricken sighed. “What a waste. Silas is a real talent. I would’ve killed to have him on Unicorn. My backup-pick monster isn’t as impressive, though they’re probably equally as annoying.”
“I’m gonna kill you, Stricken,” Franks stated in a very matter-of-fact manner that was still convincing, despite the six dudes with assault rifles aimed at him.
“I know. You’re going to kill me. Which is why I should just take you out now and get it over with. It’s not like I need two Chosen.” Stricken picked up the shotgun that was supposedly loaded with the special Franks-killing slugs, except rather than aiming it at Franks, he rested it over one shoulder. “The fact that I haven’t popped you, even though I could, should indicate that this is way bigger than our little feud. You’re really going to want to hear me out, Franks. You can get back to hounding me to the ends of the Earth after we keep the Old Ones from tearing the planet a new asshole. You know I wouldn’t reach out to the likes of you for help if it wasn’t that serious.”
Franks made an angry hmmmm noise. Because there really was no way Stricken would turn to someone who wanted to end him that much unless something really bad was going to go down otherwise.
Now that I could mostly see, I slowly took in the details of the garage. There had been at least twenty men waiting outside the circle for us to arrive. They were dressed in woodland camo fatigues with mismatched load-bearing gear. Most of them seemed pretty freaked out about the portal magic they’d just seen, which meant they were new to this kind of thing. They were armed with a variety of weapons, including a couple I didn’t recognize, which was saying something because I’m a huge gun nut. Among the soldiers were a few gringos and black guys, but most of them were about as tan as I am, but they were on average a whole lot shorter.
“Where are we?”
“Brazil,” Stricken said.
Well, shit. I sure wasn’t going to get home by the time we’d told the babysitter. “Send us back.”
“Sorry. Only had the one rope. Those things are not cheap. You ever been here before?”
Only in other people’s nightmares, but I didn’t say that. I thought about what Gutterres had shown me. There was no way our new location was a coincidence. “This is about the thing in the jungle the Secret Guard have been fighting.”
“Well, it’s good you’re not a total idiot, Pitt. Yes. Now we’re going to finish what they started. Think of this as the forward operating base for our upcoming expedition.” He gestured around the garage. “Welcome to Rio. Sadly, I doubt any of us will have time to hit the beaches.”
“Rio is nowhere near that part of the Amazon,” I said.
“So you’re an expert on South American geography too?” Stricken said. “No shit. We’re over a thousand miles from the heart of the disturbance, but we’ve got an important meeting to attend here first. You’ll see.”
There were twice as many guns pointed at Franks as there were at me, which meant that Stricken had briefed them on which one of us was more dangerous. However, there were only two of them ready to shoot Sonya, which showed a real lack of judgment on their part. I was worried she might be thinking about trying something stupid, so I caught her eye and gave her a little negative head shake.
Only Sonya gave me one right back, and she tapped one finger to her chest. She wasn’t going anywhere until she could get that rock out of her. Fair enough.
Franks slowly stood up, and it was obvious the soldiers were scared to death of him, which was smart. Especially since Franks was still armed. He slowly and purposefully dusted himself off but left his rifle hang from its sling as he glared at Stricken menacingly. The soldiers looked so nervous and there were so many twitchy fingers resting on triggers that I was kind of surprised Franks didn’t get shot by accident.
“I’d order these guys to disarm you, but we both know that would be insulting and pointless. It’s not like the legendary Agent Franks needs a gun to kill anybody.” Then Stricken looked at me. “Hothead McChosen One, on the other hand, I should probably have them disarm you and pat you down, too, for good measure.”
There was no way I could do anything without getting shot, but I wasn’t about to give Stricken the satisfaction. “From my cold dead hands, motherfucker.”
“Well, they would be room temperature and dead if I have my men kill you, which is kind of the point, Pitt.”
“I’ll pat him down,” the succubus offered. “He’s a sturdy one.”
“Lana, you really need to quit creating a hostile work environment for the new recruits.”
She shrugged and went bac
k to inspecting her claws. She’d painted them festive colors.
“In the spirit of cooperation, everybody can hold onto their guns, but let’s keep it polite. I didn’t bring you here to be prisoners, but rather partners. Besides, my Portuguese is kind of rough when it comes to giving instructions and I don’t want all these jumpy paramilitary types I hired to get the wrong message.”
I looked to the nearest soldier, who had an FAL pointed at my heart, and said in Portuguese, whatever this asshole is paying you, I’ll double it. My Portuguese was archaic crap gleaned from a dead conquistador, and more recently beefed up with some Duo Lingo lessons, but I was pretty sure he got the message. He looked to Stricken.
And of course, Stricken was lying about his language skills, because his accent was so good he probably sounded like a native Brazilian when he told them, “Nao preste atencao a este doido. Ele fale mentiras e pobre demais,” which I was pretty sure translated to: Don’t listen to this idiot. He lies and is poor. Then Stricken looked at me. “We done?”
“We’re done.” I had nothing but loathing for the man, and the only reason I hadn’t shot him myself was all his goons, but . . . Gutterres’ memories had confirmed that the situation was dire, and all of Coslow’s mystic pronouncements had encouraged me to get involved. I walked over to Sonya and offered her a hand to help her up. She didn’t need it. I was just trying to keep my friends close. Not that friend wasn’t a questionable term in this case.
“Hey, what about me?” Sonya said to Stricken. “You said you could get this rock out of me? Let’s get to getting.”
Stricken chuckled. “I should clarify. I know someone who can. But don’t worry, we’re going to meet with them shortly. You’ll just have to wait until then.”
“You son of a bitch,” Sonya said. “You promised.”
“No. I made an offer, and then moved you to a different hemisphere in order to save your life even after you robbed me. Don’t mistake my recent benevolence for patience, because you’re the least necessary member of my new team, rookie. So we’ll get around to fixing your problem in due time. Don’t like it—”
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