by Naomi Martin
Jenni and I walk back into her workshop and wait for Senator Cook to get his fill of the guts and gore out in the arena. I can’t tell if it’s his first time seeing a spectacle like that, or if he’s just one of the sick twists who gets off on the level of violence these things are capable of. If nothing else, at least him seeing how dangerous they are can only help my cause.
A few minutes later, when the sound of the snarling and the smacking of lips stops, Cook walks back in with an expression on his face I’d say looks kind of wonderstruck. It’s like he enjoyed watching that boy be torn to shreds and consumed by that creature. Which, I guess, makes him a sick twist. But, whatever, I probably shouldn’t judge. To each their own, I guess.
“That is magnificent,” Cook says, almost breathlessly. “How did you do it?”
I point to the collar in his hand. “Jenni’s figured out a way to basically… program the supers.”
“Program them?”
“You want to take this, Jenni?” I ask.
“I’m a Spirit Elemental and the element itself is unlike the others. I can’t make fire, or water, or cause the wind to blow,” she starts. “But Spirit can be used to control a person. We can manipulate limbs and muscles. Since I came to work for Colonel Villa, I’ve been experimenting with using it to manipulate people internally via the mind.”
“So, you’ve figured out mind control,” Cook says.
“Something like that. It’s complicated and has taken some time to figure out, but to put it in layman’s terms, I’m basically planting a command inside their mind,” she explains. “That command is triggered by a visual. In this case, it was his friend. When our wolf shifter saw his friend’s face, the command was activated and it launched the program, so to speak, to kill him.”
“Marvelous,” Cook gasps. “That is phenomenal.”
“I’m still working out some kinks, but we’re very close to being able to do this,” Jenni says.
“It will be a valuable weapon to use against the supers,” I put in.
Cook is nodding, a light of excitement in his eyes. “What are these kinks you’re working out?”
“Well, at the moment, I can only influence shifters,” she replies.
“Why is that?”
Jenni shakes her head. “I don’t know. Perhaps they’re not as mentally strong as other supernaturals,” she theorizes. “Perhaps it’s something else. I don’t know yet. It requires more study and work.”
Cook frowns and I can see his mind working. He’s like a kid who’s been given a new toy but has been told he can’t play with it just yet. I’ve noticed this about him; he’s not the most patient man in the world. One thing he’s going to have to learn, though, is that in this fight, patience pays great dividends.
“If it works on shifters, I see no reason we can’t deploy them immediately,” Cook finally states. “We can catch up with the vamps, Elementals, and whatever else you’ve got stashed in the cages around here later.”
This is something Jenni and I have talked about already and when I look up, I see her shifting on her feet. She’s uncomfortable with Cook’s enthusiasm. As am I.
“Senator, I don’t think that would be wise,” I reply. “If we deploy only the shifters before we’ve unlocked how to make this work with the other supers, we risk tipping our hand, giving them a chance to figure out what we’ve done and create countermeasures. We just need a little more time to—”
“We don’t have time, Colonel,” he asserts. “This war has been waged for years. How much has it cost us in money, materials, and—most importantly—in the lives of our soldiers? Unlike certain politicians, I do care about the lives of our troops.”
“All due respect, sir, I think it’s a little shortsighted to—”
Cook rounds on me, his jaw clenched, his posture tight. “Your concern is noted,” he says. “But something you will have to get used to is that when I assume control of the Homeland Defense Committee, I will effectively be in charge of this program.”
“I’m well aware of that,” I say, trying to keep my temper in check, “but I have been in charge of the operations side of the program from the start—”
“I understand that, Colonel,” he interrupts me, “and I’ve got no desire to take over the operations side of things. For whatever it’s worth, I think you’re doing an outstanding job.”
“I appreciate that.”
“And believe me when I say I plan on giving you a lot of leeway in day-to-day operations. I don’t plan on interfering in how you’ve been conducting your business. However,” Cook went on, holding up a finger, “as the man at the head of this whole program, when I give an order, I do expect that order to be carried out.”
I feel myself bristling at his words. The one advantage of working with the paper-pushing, pencil-pushing bureaucrats I’ve worked with in the past is that they don’t typically question me about anything. And they certainly don’t get in my way or try to force me to bend to their will. They’re ignorant to the conditions in the field, and so I have essentially operated with carte blanche.
The trouble with working with a guy like Cook is that he’s a veteran. He does have experience in the field, and he knows what conditions to expect in a war. Maybe not a war like this, but when it comes to an armed conflict, he’s no virgin. Which means that although I may still be operating with a ton of leeway, I won’t be operating with total autonomy anymore.
For me, that’s a bit of a problem. Oversight, having to be answerable to someone else, is not my friend since it robs me of the speed and flexibility that’s made my team so effective for so long. I need to learn to manage Cook. To subtly bend him to my will, doing it in a way that he doesn’t even realize it.
The only way I’m going to get with this guy is to give something in return. I need to appeal to his pragmatic nature, make him think he’s getting a win when, in reality, he’s not winning—he’s just not taking a loss.
“Of course. I understand,” I say, trying to sound reasonable. “But as somebody with experience in the field yourself, you know how foolish it is to give the enemy a look at your hand before you play it. Right?”
Cook frowns, but nods. “Yes. I remember.”
I nod with him, seeing that I’m pushing him back across the line to my side of the debate. That’s good. That means he’s not necessarily a rigid ideologue and can be maneuvered and handled.
“Well, I think having shifters turn on the supers en masse would be a dead giveaway that something isn’t right. They aren’t fools and they would inevitably discover what we’ve done,” I say. “But we may be able to do a trial run, so you can get a sense of what we’re doing.”
“A trial run?”
I nod again. “Affirmative,” I tell him. “And I think I have just the op that will be perfect for that. A way to kill two birds with one stone, I believe.”
A slow smile stretches Cook’s lips. “I’m intrigued, Colonel. Tell me more.”
Chapter Eleven
Gray
“You ready?” I ask.
“Yeah.”
Raven looks tense. Far more tense than she does on our usual raids, and that worries me. She’s the glue that holds these things together.
“Why do you look like you could chew through iron right now?” I ask.
She looks at me, a scowl on her face. “I’m doing something I’ve never done before, so it might be a good idea for you to cut me a little slack here.”
I flash her a grin. “You PMSing?
She tries to hold her scowl before she clamps her hand over her mouth to stifle a burst of laughter. Then, she lashes out and punches me in the shoulder.
“You are such a pig,” she snaps. “If we weren’t doing something important, I would so kick your ass right now.”
I laugh. “Don’t you dare threaten me with a good time.”
She smirks and shakes her head. “You’re incorrigible. Why do I even put up with you?”
“Probably because I’m incorr
igible.”
She rolls her eyes and turns back to the task at hand. Sitting in the middle of a field is a farmhouse: the target of tonight’s raid. The reason for the raid, as I understand it, is to give Raven a tune-up for her real mission. A mission I am still not crazy about her taking on. Too much risk, in my opinion.
I know it’s supposed to be some big win. She says it could possibly end the war altogether if she’s successful. But if she’s not, and she gets herself killed, the war will continue… and I don’t know that I care what happens after that. I can’t speak for Zane and Elliot, though I think they’d both agree with me that life isn’t much worth living without her.
Raven reaches down and keys open her mic. “Everybody in position?”
“Team one standing by,” comes the first whispered response.
“Team two standing by,” comes the second.
It’s a small team in the field tonight. There are two groups of four reserves lurking in the darkness out there in the trees. Their responsibility is to have our backs, since it’s only Raven and me headed to the farmhouse. The other teams are out there just in case everything goes sideways and we need our asses saved.
The farmhouse is a quiet and unassuming place out in the middle of nowhere in northwestern Utah. We had received intel that the farmhouse serves as a waystation for prisoners Villa and his men are taking to their facilities where they’ll become human guinea pigs. From what we’ve been told, it’s lightly guarded. I guess the Cleansers don’t want a big presence that will draw a lot of eyes, or something.
We move from the dark shelter of the tree line and warily cross the hundred yards or so of open ground, hiding behind an old tractor that looks like it’s been sitting idle for a year. There are patches of rust corroding the cab, and cobwebs strewn all across the metallic husk.
I’m pretty sure this hasn’t been a working farm in a long, long time.
From her backpack, Raven pulls out a pair of night vision goggles. She slips them on over her head and looks around, and I can see the soft green glow of the night vision on the skin surrounding her eyes.
“I don’t see anybody milling around outside,” she says quietly.
“Doesn’t mean there’s nobody there,” I caution her.
She nods and swings the glasses over toward the barn. When she flips a switch on the glasses, the green light changes to white.
“Using thermal imaging,” she says softly. “I have three figures in the barn, and two in the farmhouse.”
I nod. “Sounds easy enough.”
“Don’t take this lightly,” she warns, her voice grim. “There may be more I can’t see. Underground bunkers or such.”
She’s right, of course. But I can already feel my blood starting to rise, the bear inside of me already struggling to be free. To run in the night air. It wants to rend. Destroy. It wants to kill.
Raven looks over at me, her expression all business. “You ready?” she asks. “You take the barn, I’ll take the two in the house.”
I give her a firm nod. “Let’s do it.”
“Remember,” she cautions me, “I need as many alive as possible.”
I flash her a lopsided grin. “I’ll do my best.”
“Do better than that.”
I chuckle as I quickly strip out of my clothes. Raven lifts the goggles on her head and takes a long, appreciative view of me standing before her naked. She looks up and gives me a wink.
“Be careful out there,” she purrs. “I may have some use for you later.”
“Is that all I am to you? A piece of meat for you to use whenever you want?” I say as I roll my eyes and let out a gasp of faux exasperation.
“Well… yeah. Basically.”
I give her a fiendish smile. “I like the way you think,” I reply with a chuckle. “See you inside.”
I take a step back and let the beast inside of me out of its cage. I feel the bones shifting beneath my skin, my spine popping and lengthening. I grit my teeth, bearing the familiar pain as my body breaks in a hundred different places and reforms itself. My entire body feels like it’s on fire as my muscles tear, stretching and thickening, and my blood feels like molten lava in my veins.
I drop down onto four legs, the transformation complete. Looking through my bear eyes, the world around me is sharper. Everything is more vibrant and in focus. My senses are heightened, my body rippling with power. I cast a look back at Raven and chuff. She gives me a smile and I take a long breath, savoring her scent for another moment before I turn and run toward the barn.
The feeling of the wind streaming through my fur is incredible. I never feel as free and powerful as I do when I’m in this body with the whole world around me. Everything is so vivid and full of life. I can hear the gentle scrape of tree branches rubbing together above me. I can smell the two ravens that stand close together on a thicker branch higher up, the smoke that drifts along the breeze from the farmhouse’s chimney.
I move to the back of the barn and find the door. Rising on my back legs, the door shudders, the sound of wood cracking filling the air. The frame shudders and, from within, I hear the men frantically running about, trying to prepare themselves. When I slam my entire bulk against the door again, it shatters inward, remnants of wood blowing inside.
I’m through the door in the blink of an eye and immediately hear the chatter of gunfire. The bullets pierce my skin, each hole in my flesh searing me with an exquisite agony. I’m just thankful they’re not using silver. Idiots. It hurts like hell, but they’re not going to kill me with regular bullets.
My power ripples through my body and the ground feels like it’s shaking beneath me as I roar across the room toward the three Cleansers, all of them wearing matching expressions of surprise and fear. I rise onto my back legs again and swipe at the man closest to me. His bones crunch beneath my paw when it connects with his head, and it twists too far for it to be normal. He drops to the ground immediately, his eyes wide and sightless. Shit.
A bullet catches me in the shoulder and I let out a howl of pain that seems to shake the very foundation of the barn. I dash to the other two gunmen and—more carefully, this time—lash out at them. I catch them both with my massive paws—one with the left, and one with the right—upside the head. They’re both out cold before they hit the ground.
Quick and efficient. I allow myself to shift back into human form and slide into a pain so thick and deep, it immediately drops me to my hands and knees. Unfortunately for me, I can only heal in my human body, but it’s far less tolerant of pain than my bear form, so recovering from my injuries, suffice it to say, is always fucking agonizing.
My breathing is ragged and my voice hoarse as I cry out. I can feel my blood spilling onto the ground, but my body is rejecting the lead bullets already. With a dull thump, the first one hits the ground beneath me, and I feel my skin start to pucker around the wound as it heals. It’s a sensation that’s always felt strange to me, bordering somewhere between tickling and pain. Like I said, it’s weird as hell.
The wide doors at the front of the barn slide open and Raven walks in, an expression of concern flashing across her face.
“Oh my God, are you okay?” she asks.
I nod, but grimace as another bullet is expelled from my body. “Good thing they weren’t using silver.”
I notice that, behind her, she’s dragging the two from the house. Both of them are out, as well, and bound by threads of her power. She dumps them over with the other two live ones, then binds them, too. She looks at the third guard, with a neck that’s bent at a very unnatural angle, and frowns.
“Hey, I couldn’t help it,” I say. “They were shooting me.”
“I suppose I can forgive you one casualty,” she replies, a mischievous smirk on her face.
A pained hiss passes my lips as more of the bullets start coming out. For a long moment, I hear the steady thunk-thunk-thunk of the slugs hitting the wooden flooring beneath me. My body shakes with that strange sensation that so
mehow makes me want to laugh and cry out in agony at the same time.
The last bullet falls to the floor and the pain finally starts to ebb. I take a moment to catch my breath, then get to my feet. Holding my arms out, I turn in a circle.
“See?” I say. “Good as new.”
Raven laughs, though I can’t help but notice the expression of relief that touches her features. She tosses a bundle of clothes at me.
“Thought you could use these,” she says.
“What? You don’t like looking at me naked?”
She laughs. “Shut up and put on your clothes.”
I grin and quickly get dressed as my stomach rumbles. The one thing about having to heal that quickly is that it leaves me hungrier than hell. I look over at Raven, and it’s like she’s reading my mind.
“The kitchen is full of food,” she tells me. “Go grab something to eat, I’ll wait for you. I think our friends might be out for a while, anyway.”
I give her a quick peck on the lips as I pass by on my way to the farmhouse, the rumbling in my belly growing louder and more insistent.
“You’re the best,” I say and lumber onward.
Chapter Twelve
Raven
It takes a little while, but the four living guards finally come around. Still bound by threads of Spirit, I have them kneeling before me. They all look at me with pure contempt. I have no doubt that if I were to release them from their bonds, their first act would be to try and kill me.
I look down at the foursome, all of them big and brawny, wearing those black uniforms I’ve grown to loathe. My eyes fall upon the patch they wear, the skull wreathed in ghost flames. To me, it’s the symbol of hate and bigotry. The symbol of ignorance—and death.
The four men look at me with looks that could curdle milk; their anger and disdain for me are palpable. I pick up a chair that had been knocked over in their fight with Gray and set it back on its legs, then take a seat. I eye each of the men in turn, looking for… something. I don’t know what. Humanity? Compassion, maybe? But all I see is the cold fire of hate burning in their eyes.
