The two policemen who had been trapped underneath were crushed instantly, their screams of pain cut off as the full weight of a Werecroc and a police car came down on them.
Taylor had veered to the right at another vehicle, lifting it up on its side. Immediately grasping the underside, bending his knees and thrusting upward, he tossed the vehicle, causing it to roll over on top of the two police officers who had been using it as a shield.
Just like that, they were on the other side of the car barricade and were cutting through police right and left. They left none of them standing.
The cops unloaded everything they had into the three of them. When it became apparent, they would be unable to stop them, the police lined up in front of the ambulances who were doing their best to load as many survivors as they could inside and were fleeing as quickly as they could.
The police couldn’t have known those people were not at any risk. They hadn’t been killed for a reason. As soon as the reason was discovered, it would be too late.
As the police made their final stand, Blain, Taylor and Gordon stalked toward them. Using their arms to shield their eyes from gun shots, they approached the last cops, slowly, deliberately.
Three of the cops had already used all their ammunition and stood there with batons waiting to do battle, knowing full well they were dead men. Fucking idiots. Blain wasn’t a coward, but he wasn’t an idiot either.
There was nothing to be gained by standing there waiting to die like these guys were. None of those people were worth protecting. Certainly not with your life. Blain would have driven away already, let someone else deal with this problem.
As Blain approached the last cops who had used all their bullets and pulled their batons, Blain snarled at them. One of the cops, with a yell, came at him, swinging his baton in an overhand strike.
Blain caught his wrist.
Yanking the man off the ground, he hung the man in front of him, letting him dangle. The man grabbed the baton with this other hand and began striking Blain’s wrist with it.
Another man ran at him to help his comrade and Blain swung the man he carried in a high arc so fast the other man couldn’t respond quick enough as the body of his fellow police officer slammed onto the top of his head. Blain could hear the man’s neck snap from the impact and his body crumpled. The man he had swung grunted once when he hit the other guy, and a second time when he hit the ground. That impact dislocated the man’s shoulder.
Blain wasn’t done.
With a jerk, he lifted the man off the ground, his arm loose, and as his body spun slightly, the man to shrieked in pain. As the man rose skyward, Blain let go of his wrist. When he fell, he flailed his arms and legs in an attempt at some control.
When the man’s body was level with Blain’s face, Blain swung downward with his hands, clasped together in a hammer of claws and slammed against the cop, increasing his downward momentum. The cop gave out an oof, before he hit the pavement with a sickening splat.
Gordon and Taylor had engaged the other four officers, ripping and tearing them to pieces as the last of the ambulances left the grounds.
Blain moved off to examine all the policemen to ensure none of them lived. That was one of the other instructions Kestrel had given them. To kill any and all law enforcement who got in their way. They didn’t want to risk injuring one as it would give the police a way to track them.
It would happen sooner or later. They would find a way to capture one of the people they had infected and use their connection to find them, but Kestrel wanted to avoid it for as long as possible.
They moved off into the rest of the complex. It appeared a sizable portion of the workers who worked in the actual refinery had fled when the cops had shown up. They found some stragglers who, for whatever reason, had stuck around or had been working in areas where they had no idea of the carnage taking place in the other parts of the refinery.
They hurt them all and sent them running. They would all die in the end or become part of Kestrel’s army. Blain had no idea how many they had infected, or how many would survive, but he knew Kestrel would be happy with the results. They had effectively closed Yulchik Petroleum. They had killed the company’s president, the CEO and all the rest of the upper management. They had done so in a way to send a clear message as to what would happen to companies like this. And they weren’t done.
There were two other businesses they would hit as they made their way down to meet Kestrel — one more refinery and a logging company. In each one, they would kill those who ran the company and try to infect as many workers as they could.
As Blain, Gordon and Taylor drove out through the open gate, they left a building filled with blood and gore unlike anything this country had ever seen before. It wouldn’t be the last.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Jason hit ‘end call’ and the phone dropped in his lap. His face dropped into his hands and a muffled sob escaped him. Tragedy and tragedy. Sitting back up, he wiped the tears from his eyes. First Beth and now Sim.
Damn. He had not known Sim long, but he had saved Jason’s life, and besides, Jason liked him. From what Kat had told him, Sim had been killed by some unknown weapon. Something Sylvanis didn’t know anything about.
They had fought the bad Weres. Their first true battle. It had been horrific. Police and bystanders were dead; the streets of Chicago looked like a battlefield, torn asunder and strewn all over the place.
Jason had said they had seen nothing about it on the news. Kat shared his surprise. They hadn’t seen anything about it either. They were assuming the government had somehow been able to cover it up.
He then told her about the disaster with Beth, and Stephanie’s refusal to return to Sylvanis.
“She is hurting, Kat. She sees this as not only her fault, but Sylvanis’. Sylvanis had pretty much guaranteed if there was a personal connection to the person, they would survive the transfer.”
“That’s not what she said.”
“True, but she implied there was a far better chance of survival. Perhaps we should have been more reticent about involving our friends.”
“No,” Kat insisted. “You did what you thought best. You don’t understand what we face out there, Jason. We didn’t even face all of them. Thankfully. It was all we could do to keep them contained and survive ourselves. If Clint hadn’t shown up . . .”
“Wait. Clint is back?”
There was a pause.
“Sort of. He isn’t . . . right. Not yet. Things happened when he . . . was gone. Bad things. Things he did, he needs to come to grips with.”
Another pause.
“It will take time.”
“Same on this end, Kat. I will work with Stephanie. Try to bring her around. This news about Sim isn’t going to help though.”
“I know.”
“How is Hank?”
“How do you think?” came the sarcastic response.
“Right. Stupid question.”
“Sorry,” Kat apologized. “It has been a rough time here and I’m a little irritable. I’m not handling this well. Sim. Clint. Now Beth. I mean, I didn’t know her, but I know the two of you, and well . . . I’m sorry.”
Jason didn’t respond. he couldn’t respond without losing it all over again.
They were both quiet for a moment before Kat continued, “Just do what you must, Jason. No one will begrudge either of you for ending your involvement right here. Hell, I don’t even know if Hank will stay on at this point.”
Again, a pause.
“Maybe this is too much for us. Maybe we should just let the authorities handle this.”
“Are you quitting?” Jason asked.
“No,” Kat answered without hesitation. “This is what I trained for. This is what I have been preparing for all these years. I cannot. I will not step away from this fight.”
Jason smiled, though he knew she couldn’t see it. It was what he expected from her.
“Well, I can’t leave Stephanie righ
t now. But, when the time is right, I will come. With or without her.” It was hard to say, but he meant it. This was too important. He didn’t think he would give anyone lycanthropy. He couldn’t deal with what Stephanie dealt with now, but he would fight. That he would do.
“That’s good to hear. We could use you. These assholes are tough and mean.”
“Yeah. I remember.” He would never forget his fight with the Croc. He was not looking forward to a repeat of that confrontation.
“Take care, Jason,” Kat told him. “Look after Stephanie and let her know we are thinking of her.”
“I will, Kat. Thanks. You take care as well. Let Hank know the same, O.K.? Let him know . . . you know . . . that Sim was a great guy.” It seemed like such a lame thing to say, but Jason didn’t know what else to say.
“I’ll tell him. Bye.”
“Bye.”
Tragedy. The word hung in his head. He was unable to see this in any other way.
It had been two days since Beth had passed. Two days and Stephanie had barely left her room. The only times she did was when Jason refused to bring food into the bedroom and forced her to come to the table to eat with him. Though he wondered why he even bothered.
The times she came to the table to eat she was mostly unresponsive. Monosyllabic responses or looks which spoke volumes was all he got from her. He didn’t push, though. He cooked for her and ran errands. He held her when she cried and listened when she yelled and screamed and railed against the unfairness of the world.
He did all he could for her. He would give her the time she needed, and he would be there for her as she got through this, but in the end, he would need to decide what he had to do.
The world truly was unfair. All this time pining for the woman he loved, only to now make a decision taking him away from her. He had meant what he said to Kat. He would go to them — with or without Stephanie. He hoped with, but she wasn’t ready. She was still angry at Sylvanis.
Right or wrong. Stephanie blamed Sylvanis almost as much as she blamed herself for what happened to Beth. It was like Stephanie forgot everything Sylvanis had told her about the upcoming conflict. Not only that, but what Beth had said. She had known the risks but had understood the necessity.
There were forces in the world now. Forces who would destroy the world as they knew it and the only way they could be fought was with an equal force, both in power and number. That meant they needed as many Weres as they could get.
Beth had been brave. He and Stephanie had fallen into this mess. Stephanie had been born into it and Jason had been pulled in by accident. But, Beth. Beth had chosen to be a part of this. Yes, they had done their best to convince her to join, but in reality, it hadn’t taken much convincing.
Beth was a fighter. She cared for people. Wanted to protect them, like how she had been protective of Stephanie. This was a way for her to do it for others and she had relished the chance.
Jason stood and put the phone back into his pocket and moved to the door to Stephanie’s room and placed his hand on the doorknob but didn’t go in.
He stood outside her door for a long time, trying to figure out a way to tell her about Sim. He didn’t want to add to her pain. Didn’t want to add to her anger. I will tell her another day. He took his hand off the knob.
“Jason?” Stephanie called from inside the bedroom.
He squeezed his eyes shut. Damn.
Reaching down he grabbed the knob, turned and stepped into her room.
It was midmorning, though it wasn’t recognizable in Stephanie’s room. The curtains were drawn tight and only a thin line of sunlight eked into the room, creating a long yellow strip dividing her bed in half.
Stephanie lay in bed propped up on her elbows, looking toward him, bleary eyed with sleep still clinging to her features like a veil.
“Who were you talking to?”
Jason sighed and walked farther into the room, then sat down on the bed close to her. He watched her for a moment. The light which always seemed to shine from her had dimmed. She was no longer the cheery, positive person he had known. She drowned in darkness. In depression.
He couldn’t say he blamed her. In her mind, she had killed her best friend. How does one move on from that? And now he had to add to her misery.
“Kat. She called to let us know what happened.” He studied his hand which rested on her bed, not wanting to look her in the eyes.
She sensed there was more. “What happened?”
He refused to look back up at her. “There was a battle. Lots of people died. We were able to fight them off, but . . .” His throat constricted, and he couldn’t go on.
“Jason. What happened?” Her voice was insistent.
It was a long moment before he answered.
“Sim’s dead.”
She gasped, a hand going to her mouth and her eyes wide.
“No.”
He nodded slightly. Tears dripped to her bedsheets with abandon as he had still not raised his head to look at her.
“Oh, Jason.” Her tone broke him, and he sobbed. Leaning forward he rested his head on her shoulder and she wrapped him in her arms.
She held him for a while, and he knew she cried as well. Sim had been young, vibrant. A good kid. Someone who had stepped up to do what was right. Had fought, even knowing the danger.
They cried together for a time before she spoke again.
“I don’t understand, though. How was he killed? It is next to impossible to kill one of us.”
He removed himself from her arms and wiped his eyes, grabbed several tissues from the box next to her bed and handed her some. Using the rest, he wiped his nose before answering.
“They aren’t sure. Something that Sylvanis didn’t even recognize.” He turned his gaze to her. “Whatever it was, it wasn’t from Kestrel or a Were. Of that much, Sylvanis is certain.”
Stephanie’s forehead lined as she pondered what he told her. Then she frowned. “It doesn’t matter. Just another victim in this stupid fight.”
He didn’t respond. She glared at him, hard.
“I’m glad we’re done with it.”
Jason nodded hesitantly and glanced away once more.
“Jason?”
“Yeah.” He turned back.
“We are done with this, aren’t we?”
“Stephanie . . .” Jason began, and her eyes narrowed on him at his tone.
“Look, the loss of Beth hit both of us hard. Not to mention the loss of Mike.” They hadn’t seen Mike since Beth’s death. Stephanie knew where he was, or at least, could know where he was if she chose. As far as Jason knew though, Stephanie had been leaving Mike alone.
“I think we both need time to grieve and be at peace with what happened.”
Stephanie still studied him with a penetrating look.
“You’re planning on joining her?” There was quite a lot of venom attached to the word, her, when she spoke it.
“This isn’t about her, Stephanie, and you know it.”
“It’s her fault!” Stephanie yelled at him, her face reddening with anger.
“Is it?” he replied calmly. “Is it really? Is it Sylvanis’ fault Kestrel created a spell to come back and wage war on us? Can you really blame Sylvanis for doing what she thought was the best way to fight Kestrel, knowing we wouldn’t be able to fight her and her minions without the power of lycanthropy?” He tilted his head and held her gaze.
“Kestrel is the one who is at fault here. She is the one that caused all of this to happen. It was through her actions that everything else followed. You want to be mad at someone? Be mad at her.”
His tone had been firm, but he softened it as he continued.
“I know how you feel, Stephanie. Believe me. But this war is coming to us and we can either sit back and let innocents die, or we can rise to meet it.”
He could see his words were reaching her, if only a little.
“Hundreds of people died in Chicago. How many more would have died if Sylvanis
and the others hadn’t been there?”
The heat had left Stephanie’s face and she relaxed somewhat.
“I don’t know, Jason. I just don’t know.”
He patted her arm and stood.
“You take all the time you need till you do, Stephanie.”
He left her as she had turned and stared toward the thin strip of sunlight visible through her curtains. A tiny bit of light blooming into the darkness.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The director of Homeland Security, Colonel Carl Simpson sat with the FBI and CIA director, along with the director of NSA and the CDC in a conference room at the DHS. It was a simple room, narrow and long. It held a conference table spacious enough to sit twenty people in comfortable brown leather office chairs.
The table itself was made from polished oak. It was thick and smooth; a clear resin had been poured over the wood to seal it, revealing the swirls and knots of the tree’s life underneath. Several portraits lined the walls of varying past directors of Homeland Security.
Each one of the directors had a tablet in front of them with all the up to date information they had on the threat. The most recent reports had come in early that day from a Russian owned refinery in Texas. They had managed to obtain security footage of the attack.
From the colorless faces surrounding him at the conference table, Carl could see they had the same feeling he had when he had watched the footage for the first time.
“Now, you are saying there is no footage from the incident in Chicago? The recent one I mean?” That came from Lisa Pendrige, the Director of the FBI. She was a tall woman, and slender. She had almost no figure whatsoever, a stick of a woman.
She had blonde hair, which she kept in a ponytail which hung over her right shoulder. Bright blue eyes hid behind frameless glasses sitting upon a small, slightly upturned nose.
Carl nodded. “Nothing. Not a thing. All video and photo evidence have disappeared. Been wiped from everyone’s phones and social media. Everyone we interviewed who had recorded something, or took pictures said the same thing. When they went to retrieve them, they were gone from their devices.”
The Gathering Page 24
