Redemption (The Boris Chronicles Book 4)

by Paul C. Middleton

  The shotguns were to be at least twenty meters behind him. They had flashlights duct taped to the barrels. How there was still viable and working duct tape around the camp had been beyond everyone, but as a field expedient, it would do the job for long enough.

  They had been right to be worried about the lights. The ones at the front of the complex were on, but the rest of the system was pitch black. It was the small things that complicated life and combat. Boris pushed a little further forward than they had discussed. In the dark, humans would need more warning. Even with the flashlights, there was only so much that they could illuminate.

  To be honest, Olaf would have preferred there to be no flashlights at all. Mostly, he would have preferred to go in alone. That would not have flown well with his allies, or his bodyguards, however. Besides, even if he could not defeat the Vampire inside, he might be able to weaken it enough that humans with guns would be able to finish it off.

  Now was not the time to be proud. Now was the time to be a leader.

  The tunnels led straight into an unoccupied series of guard rooms, ready rooms, and barracks with an armory. The beds were unkept, but the room was clean. They were all empty as well. It seemed the supposition of the enemy emptying the base was correct. There was even a handy-dandy map in one of the ready rooms. One that it became clear they could not trust after the first fifty meters beyond the barracks.

  They did find one useful thing in the ready rooms, a box of road flares. Unsure if they would work after sixty or so years, Anatoly and Stasia worked them into the planning in addition to the flashlights, rather than instead of.

  Behind the barracks was a maze of tunnels and rooms. Most of them were apparently Post-Fall additions. Rather than plaster over the rock, there was just bare worked stone that had been carved out of the hill with a pickaxe.

  Olaf hated to think of the work involved in burrowing out this mountain like that. It could be done. It had been done before the rise of technology long before the Fall. This was an example of old methods being used again.

  The storerooms were full of foodstuffs and looted materials. Grains, tanned hides, smoked meats, the works. This group was getting fat on the supply side. Olaf had a sinking feeling that they had hit the western edge of Raina's territory, and that such a stockpile being located there spoke of the size of the lands between there and his relief force—or at least the territory of which she had control.

  There was too much for pure raiding. They had to have people they extracted tribute from.

  Raina had to be stripping her subjects to the absolute minimum to have such resources. The suffering her people had to be enduring started a fire in Olaf’s mind.

  The nature of the mountainous terrain, and the kinds of people it attracted, may have proven too much for her to overcome without more effort than she wanted to expend. Hunting down every band along her borders would have been a near-impossible task. Hunting down every bandit band had been beyond Boris. Raina's brutality had caused the entire remaining population of that region to turn on her with a burning, toxic, hatred.

  But the sheer number of rooms complicated things enormously. Olaf was growing frustrated with the constant diversions down side corridors. The second team had moved up closer, clearing two out of three of the side passages as they moved deeper into the complex.

  ‘One thing all this does was to make sure the enemy knew someone was coming,’ Olaf mused to himself as he continued padding forward, ‘I wonder if that was the plan all along, or if it was simply a beneficial side effect?’

  He picked up the pace, and the first assault team had to ignore their designated side passages to keep up. They were still falling behind him. They had been down there for at least half an hour. Everyone was getting tense, and the batteries in the flashlights wouldn’t last forever.

  Olaf just wanted the day to be over. He needed to dig that nest of nastiness out. He was distracted by his frustration and impatience when the Nosferatu finally did strike.

  A swarm of at least ten piled straight in on him. Pushing him to the side, their numbers made it impossible for him to block the entire tunnel from the others who streamed past. With a roar, Olaf started slashing at and biting into the mound of Nosferatu that had piled into him.

  Even above his roar could be heard the shrieks and hunger-driven cries of the Nosferatu. Shouts of encouragement and orders from both Stasia and Anatoly could be heard echoing back down the cave.

  Olaf could already hear the shotguns firing behind him. He had to wonder how effective they were. Fear for those under his command took over, and he went into a blind rage. These monsters were after people he cared for. They would not stop him from helping them.

  His jaws clamped down on the closet body part, and he shook the Nosferatu ferociously. The nearest half-dozen were knocked back like bowling pins as his fury took hold. The body part, a leg, tore out of his target's hip socket, and the human-shaped missile knocked over several more causing a jam, one he could hopefully hold back while the others dealt with the half-dozen or so leakers.

  The taste of the blood in his mouth was foul and distracted him for long enough that one of the Nosferatu that had been surrounding him managed to bite. Shortly afterward, he felt the fangs fall out of his thigh.

  The world seemed to pause as it let loose a banshee scream of pain. Afterwards, there was a moment of absolute silence. Whatever had happened had frozen the other Nosferatu briefly. Olaf took advantage of whatever had happened. He started mauling those still around him with both paws. Gaining fighting room away from the wall he had been pushed against.

  Forcing them to go through him before they could reach those under his command. His determination solidified, and the sound of gunfire moved closer. His backup would get here soon. He just had to hold his position.

  He swung back and forth to slam the Nosferatu back with jabs and swipes of his paws. Grabbing one with a lunge and a bite, he used it as a bludgeon against its fellows. He held his position. Held his ground. The gunfire behind him kept chattering. Some of his assault team was still standing, still fighting those that did get past him.

  Another Nosferatu managed to sink its teeth into him, this time into his wrist just above his paw. Within seconds it was violently seizing. He was forced to shatter the monster’s head into the floor to get it off his arm. The body went limp as the skull was pulverized.

  The short time it took him to disentangle himself was enough for another to slip past, but he was more worried about the mass. While he had injured several and killed at least five, he couldn't see the end of them. It was too dark to see past the first rank of his foes.

  Then the support arrived. A wall of fire sent out a wall of lead above Olaf’s head. In their tightly packed situation, the Nosferatu could not dodge, nor was there time to flee from the avalanche of lead.

  In less than a minute, they were all down, and Olaf was trying to spit their foul-tasting blood out of his mouth.

  Anatoly approached a little cautiously and figured out what Olaf was trying to do. He pulled out a canteen of water and poured some of it over Olaf's muzzle. Olaf looked at him and angled his mouth to get some more to wash his mouth out with.

  Anatoly paused the pour, certain he had Olaf’s full attention. “I told you we should have been closer.” Olaf flashed a reproachful look back at Anatoly, inasmuch as a bear can look reproachful. Then the water poured, and Olaf managed to wash out his mouth.

  The first, and least dangerous, part of infiltrating the complex was complete.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Olaf’s body slumped slightly in fatigue after the last of the Nosferatu went down. Shots sounded out around him as partisans made sure the Nosferatu were dead for good. He could feel the grief building in some, converting to rage in others. His forces had taken the brunt of the attack. In at least one case, from the fall of bodies, one of his bodyguard detail had sacrificed himself to protect two partisans from the enemy.

  He was sick of it. Alone,
he could have defeated those monsters. Giving them more prey had been a mistake. Giving Raina more prey would be a similar mistake. Anatoly was down, injured. Oskar and Stasia had taken over organizing the treatment of the wounded. If he was going to prevent more unnecessary casualties, he needed to move now.

  Olaf was determined to take out the Vampire only he had a chance against. After moving along the corridor as to prevent a surprise attack, he lay on the ground. In the middle of the passageway, his bulk was an effective stopper.

  Olaf waited patiently. More than half of the forty in the assault group were injured or dead. From what he had seen, twelve of his bodyguards were among the fallen. A horrific price to pay.

  Yet not as high as fighting them in the open would have been. Olaf had to wonder why the Nosferatu had been held back. The confinement of the tunnels had given his troops a decisive advantage.

  Then again, they were bloodthirsty horrors. Perhaps they could not be controlled well enough for the Vampire to risk setting them loose with her troops in the field? Olaf kept his focus on the corridor ahead and waved off one of the troopers doing triage assessments when they finally had time to check him for wounds.

  He had been waiting for that moment. Then he stood and hurried off, getting far enough ahead of his allies while they were distracted. No more of them needed to be endangered. He would deal with the problem—with Raina—personally.

  <<<>>>

  It was at least ten minutes later when Stasia looked down the corridor expecting to see Olaf. She had expected to see him on the floor, lying down as a guard and tunnel block. He was gone. Swearing, Stasia yelled down the hall, “Oskar! Olaf has gone. Gather the security detail. We need to go after him. We can’t let him face that bitch alone.”

  Oskar looked at her, slight confusion on his face. “It’s gonna be a battle of the Titans, Stasia. I would not have believed anyone could take on twenty or thirty of these fiends and live! The fact that Olaf even has the energy to move after such a fight surprises me. That tells me it’s entirely possible that he’s doing the right thing.”

  Stasia snorted and shook her head in disgust, “do you think he will be facing her alone? If there is anyone else there, we will at least help even the odds.”

  Oskar stood there for a moment after thinking about it. He gave even odds to her being alone. If she was powerful enough, she could have believed the force Olaf led was unworthy of her attention. If they managed to reach her anyways, then they were replacements for her losses, in her mind. Why waste energy on opponents not worthy of notice?

  And that was if she saw herself as part of the military force. If she saw herself as more of a civil head, then she could justify sending whatever forces were at hand before facing the attackers after all. Why else have a military force?

  But Stasia had a point. If Raina did have remaining forces, Boris would be at an extreme disadvantage. Everyone still in the tunnel was already in a risky situation. Sighing, he nodded and shouted, “Viktor, Terus, Delmar, George, Hugo! Grab a shotgun and load up on ammo. We need to at least try and save his furry and stupid hide.” Stasia started to head off down the tunnel. Impatience getting the better of her, but an angry hand clamped down on a shoulder.

  “No,” Oskar ground out. An aura of command surrounded him. “We go together, or not at all. If we come in one at the time, we will be a liability.”

  Stasia turned a burning glare on him, but he just shook his head. Stasia let her gaze fall and sighed with regret. After two minutes, the rescue team was ready and headed out.

  <<<>>>

  Olaf had made turns down doglegs and around corners. There seemed to be no reason for them. There were no more storage rooms, but he felt like they had doubled back around, and that he was near the center of the area the enemy base had been on.

  He grimaced as he detected ten or more etheric sources ahead. He could not believe that there were ten Vampires ahead. Besides, all but one of them felt wrong. As if they were oily compared to the clean water he was used to. But for him to even be detecting one was a bad sign. He had not felt the Nos, and the tank had only been on the edge of the range he could usually sense them on. His mother and his father were the only people he had ever sensed before.

  Paul and Alexi simply did not have a large enough signature for him to feel. The shuttle engines and the main generator he could sense at about three or four kilometers. That was one of the reasons the shuttle had been used. It had sensors that were much more sensitive than the one in his skull.

  As he approached one of the doorways, he felt the smallest signature rise and peak. Instinctively, he dove his bear form through, rolling to get quickly back on his feet. He saw a jagged red lance of energy pass over his head and smelled the acrid odor of ozone. A bitter taste filled his mouth as he realized how close the bolt had come to hitting. The scent of scorched fur from the heat of the blast filled the room, overwhelming the smell of death for a time.

  He tensed as he heard a trigger click, but there was no accompanying arc of energy or spike in the etheric signature. A snarl filled the room, followed by cursing. “Cocklicking useless test. What a cluster fuck. And a Wechselbalg would have been the perfect subject. If it works on one of you, it will work on anyone.”

  Looking up, he saw no one else in the antechamber. As he rose, the Vampire was already moving towards him. He was barely fast enough to turn a potentially lethal kick into a glancing blow across his back leg. It still hurt.

  Olaf sent a mauling back at Raina, who rode the blow enough to only receive shallow scratches. Both now on their feet and aware that they were roughly the same speed. Olaf glanced around the room. It had a double door that was open to what looked like an underground military vehicle park. The eight remaining signatures were beyond it, unmoving.

  The room itself was large, easily forty meters by forty meters. Olaf quickly learned to follow her movement more carefully. A kick to the ribs showed that any distraction could cost him. A sharp crack in her foot told Raina that any personal attacks against Olaf would also extract a price.

  His reflexive counterstrike had barely glanced off her foot, but he had managed to break something. It healed quickly, but it encouraged Raina to go on the defensive. She needed to keep him at bay until her sidearm recharged. It should have been good for two or three shots before needing to charge. She had been a little hard on the trigger this time.

  They fought back and forth, rarely landing a blow. Their fight covered most of the room, with Olaf knocking over tables in his frustration at being unable to reach her. Raina was desperately hoping that she was tiring the Werebear out. Tension simmered in the room when the deadlock was broken.

  Eight armed figures burst into the room. As they raised their weapons, Raina desperately dodged behind concrete plinths that had held steel desktops before Olaf had knocked them off.

  Thunder barked. An Armageddon of bullets, slugs, and buckshot filled the air around her. One of the slugs from the AA-12s hit, spinning her as she dove behind the cover of the concrete. What had been a solid meter by two-meter block became pockmarked and chipped as bullets and buckshot peppered it.

  The interlopers spread slowly, those with empty magazines reloading first, then those with partial loads following suit. A quiet beep seemed to echo in the near silence left by the lull in the gunfire. Raina looked longingly at the vehicle hanger. She could have evaded even that many attackers there, but flashing through the etheric with her sidearm charged could be a problem.

  The etheric and the energy the weapon drew on did not mix. It was close to the etheric energy pods she had discovered how to create, but it was hungrier. That was what made blasts of it a more viable, and targeted, weapon. She heard the bear approaching, but she was not sure the energy would arc from the Were to the others. It might arc from one of them to the next, servicing many of her foes in a single shot.

  Risking a glance, she saw one of them was female. A smile took her face. Killing her would make any survivors either grieve
or become enraged. Either way, it would make them easier to kill. Quickly rising on the other side of the concrete, she took her shot.

  Olaf saw her rising, lifting the gun faster than his allies could react. He could see her target, and his heart shredded. Desperately, he charged across, placing his body in the path of the bolt. The smell of burning fur and cooking flesh filled the air, and pain quickly became all he knew.

  Then, Raina disappeared. Her voice could be heard, a shout ringing out in triumph. With that damned Werebear out of the way, she could cleanse the base of those who would dare defy her. It might take time, but she now had a chance

  Olaf writhed as the vicious energy surged through him. For the first time in his life, he felt an unexpected change happening. His legs lengthened, his hip joints shifted. His form became the one in between man and beast, that of the Pricolici.

  He roared as the change continued, painfully shedding the burnt flesh from his body as it shifted in a manner most unusual for a shifter. Rather than the fast change, it was slow, and painful because of the decreased speed of the change. Roars of pain and rage echoed throughout the base as he pulled himself to his feet. Stalking into the vehicle park, he was struck by a hail of bullets from an assault rifle. None were silver, so none of them did any permanent harm.

  Olaf’s allies stared in shock at what he had become. “Stay herrre,” he growled over his shoulder at them.

  This was his fight. He would kill the bitch that had tried to kill the first woman that had held an interest in him as a person. That had not cared who his father was, but had judged him only on his actions.

  Fury walked with every step. Fear rode out from him in waves. His troops took defensive positions in the room he left. Preparing to shoot whichever monster came back through the door.

  Raina was hiding behind a tank. Her mind raced, wondering what had happened. It had been at least five centuries since she had heard of a Wechselbalg taking that form. She now wished she had a better mastery of flashing through the etheric. Even the small step she had taken had exhausted her.