by Megan Morgan
“Sounds like a zombie bite.” Marla glanced at Lorena. “There aren’t any zombies, are there?”
“Not the way TV makes you think of them.”
They pulled into an open space, barely enough room to wedge in without having their back tires on the road. A line of trucks stretched off into the darkness. People stood around, holding rifles, dressed in body armor, some also wearing Army fatigues. Lorena touched the band around her throat. Did she need more than that? Though Wolvites liked to lunge for the throat, that didn’t mean they wouldn’t bite elsewhere. The hole in her mother’s thigh blazed in her mind.
She slid out of the truck, hand on her gun.
A sound came from across the distance—like the pop of firecrackers, though it wasn’t anything so festive. Artificial light lit up everything around them. No Wolvite would risk stumbling out into the open here. Lorena eased off her gun.
They walked into the center of the trucks, where a group of soldiers were gathered.
“Parker,” a man greeted Marla. An assault rifle dangled from his shoulder and he had a Kevlar vest on. “We’re about to go in.”
“What’s the word?” Marla asked.
The man held up a radio. “They’re flushing out the caves underneath the mountain right now. We’ve only shot two so far that tried to come up this way. We’re going to split up. Some will go into the trees and pick off any runners. Some of us will stay up here and watch for anything that slips past.”
“Any attacks?” Marla asked. “Casualties?”
“Not that we’ve heard. We’ve got them outnumbered. You wanna go down in the trees or stay up here?”
“I’ll go down.” Marla looked at Lorena. “What about you?”
The man looked at Lorena, at the gun on her hip.
“She’s cleared,” Marla told him. “She’s a scientist from the agency, but she’s got her credentials.”
“I’ll go down.” Lorena nodded. “I know what I’m doing.”
* * * *
Deacon sat on the back deck of Jack’s house, a place he’d spent plenty of time as a kid. They’d had cookouts there, and Jack’s parents once had an above-ground pool in the backyard. His folks got tired of the cost and time it took to maintain it and took it out when Deacon and his cousins were teenagers. Not that any of them minded. By that age they were more concerned with ball-hooting down back roads and chasing girls.
They hadn’t turned on any lights, despite the back of the house being equipped with flood lights. Deacon sat in a lawn chair, shotgun on his shoulder, gazing toward the line of trees at the bottom of the yard. He didn’t need light to see clearly anyway. Nothing stirred.
The glass door behind him slid open and Jack stepped out on the deck, carrying his own shotgun.
“Nothing?” He also held a couple beers and handed one to Deacon. They’d made their apologies and were back on track with each other.
Deacon took the bottle. “Nope. All quiet.”
Jack flopped down in the chair next to him. He set his shotgun against the deck railing. “Wonder how it’s going?”
“Reckon we’ll know by morning.” Deacon glanced at his phone on the railing. “Hopefully, a lot sooner.”
“I’m glad Mel went to stay with my folks.” Jack cracked his beer open. “She called me a bit ago, let me know everything was all right. But it ain’t, really. She ain’t happy with none of this. She don’t want me sitting out here taking shots at them.”
Deacon snorted. “Don’t you think it’s a little crazy she feels bad for the bastards?”
“She’s just got a soft heart, that’s all.” He always made excuses anytime Deacon dared to say something critical about her. “It ain’t unusual, there’s other people that think we’re being cruel.”
“Do you think we’re being cruel?”
Jack took a drink of his beer. Deacon couldn’t wrap his head around how he lived with such conflict in his house. Deacon would have had a hard time socializing with Lorena if she felt sympathy for the Wolvites, no matter how pretty she was and how good she kissed.
“We can’t live peacefully with them.” Deacon shook his head. “Maybe we could, if we could reason with them, but we can’t. All they know is attacking us. They got nothing in their minds except taking a bite out of our asses. Hell, even if they’d just stay put in the woods, we could give them some peace. But they don’t. That’s why it’s come to this.”
Jack sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe we gotta come up with some other solution, give ‘em a habitat far away from us, or something. Maybe that’s something the scientists could come up with. A way for us to coexist peacefully.”
Deacon took a sip of his beer and set it up on the railing, next to his silent, dark phone. He tried not to think of Lorena out in those woods, with Wolvites lurking in the shadows and sniffing all up on her.
“So what’s going on with you and Miss Scientist?” Jack chortled. “Things heating up?”
“You could say that.”
“I know you done the dirty deed. I got the same sense of smell as you, you know.”
Deacon smirked. “Thought I’d aired things out.”
“In my house.” Jack shook his head. “You dog.”
“In my room. Kinda spur of the moment. Wasn’t thinking too clearly.”
“The best times always are.” Jack sprawled in his chair and stretched out his legs. “So, how was it?”
“I don’t kiss and tell.”
Jack barked out a laugh. “Since when?”
Deacon laughed too. The night remained silent. He could hear good, but he couldn’t hear all the way out to the holler. At least they’d know when it ended, because the trucks drove past the house to get out there. They’d have to come back this way.
“She’s something else.” Deacon sighed. “I’ve never met a woman like her.”
“What about that woman from Lexington? The redhead?”
Deacon groaned. “I never met a woman like her either, but for different reasons. She was a little too fast to keep up with.”
“Coulda been because she stole your truck.”
“She borrowed it.” Deacon sunk back in his chair. “No, Lorena’s just…different. She makes me feel different. She makes me feel all kinds of things.”
“Aw, you’re gettin’ soft. Maybe it’s because she’s a witch. You’re all about Grandpa’s lore.”
“You must be about it too, you married a witch.”
“I didn’t marry Mel cause she was a witch.” He lifted his beer bottle and paused, halfway to his mouth. “She was just…beautiful and mysterious. So quiet, and yet, we seemed to say so much to each other.”
“Aw,” Deacon teased in return. “It’s a shame Grammy gives her such a hard time. Ain’t no wonder she’s still awkward and struggling to fit in.”
“Grammy needs to reel it in.” Jack’s voice darkened. “I ain’t gonna put up with much more of her treating Mel like that. I’ve only held my tongue this long cause she’s my grandmother. But she don’t need to get up her back like that.”
“She was giving Lorena the business today, too. Grammy don’t like that Lorena hasn’t cultivated her powers. Thinks she ought to focus less on science and more on being a witch.”
“Of course she thinks that. She thinks anyone who ain’t exactly like her is going down the wrong road.” He paused. “Lorena’s got some gunpowder, though, going out in the woods tonight. I think she’s better suited for you from that angle than the witch stuff.”
Earlier, Deacon had to resist the compulsion to give Lorena his shotgun for extra protection. She was a damn good shot with the iron she had and he didn’t want to insult her, or seem like he was fussing. Cause he wasn’t fussing.
Well, maybe a little.
“I just hope she comes back in one piece.” Deacon gazed out at the night. “She might be good at what she does, but she don’t know them woods the way we do.”
“If she does come back in one piece—and I’m hoping she does—what then
?”
“Then?”
“Between you two. She’s got a life far away from here. And once they get rid of the Wolvites, she won’t have no business here.”
Deacon tried not to think too much about that. One crisis at a time. Make sure Lorena got out of the woods safe, then worry about her getting out of his life.
“She’s gonna stay a few days. We’re gonna shack up and enjoy each other, I reckon.”
“And then she’ll go back to Chicago.”
Deacon sat forward and grabbed his beer bottle. “I don’t see any reason we can’t visit each other from time to time, and there’s phones, email. Lots of ways to keep in touch these days. I never been to Chicago. It would be nice to check it out.”
Jack chuckled. “You got it bad, and you barely know her.”
“I know her. The way she smells, the way she tastes…”
“Now we’re getting to the good stuff.” Jack rubbed his hands together.
“I ain’t telling you nothing. Reckon you’re just gonna have to sneak and read my diary.”
Deacon finished off his beer. He remained steady, not the least bit buzzed, and he could still shoot straight. It took a hell of a lot of booze to get a Lycan drunk. It was kind of annoying, not to mention expensive.
* * * *
The popping in the distance continued, occasionally lessening in frequency, only to start up in a flurry again. The radios some of the soldiers had kept going off, static and voices cutting across them. The general atmosphere was not one of panic, despite what was going on out there. Just routine. Just another eradication.
Lorena walked down the slope into the trees with a group of people, largely men, only a few other women outside of Marla. The descent was slow since they had to go single-file down the paths. The darkness thickened as they moved away from the spotlights and the trees closed in. Lorena had been given a flashlight.
At the bottom of the slope, they waited in a tight group for everyone to descend. A tall man with a buzz cut seemed to be in charge.
“We’re gonna fan out,” he said, lighting his face with his flashlight. “Walk about twenty feet apart and try to keep your buddies in sight. You see one of the beasts, don’t hesitate, shoot it down. You hear gunfire, that means we’re engaged. Be ready.”
Lorena peered cautiously into the surrounding darkness. Too dense to see anything clearly.
“Keep your bearings so you can meet back here,” the man said. “I’ll call out the order when it’s time to come back. Pass it on so everyone hears it. If you notice anyone is missing or hasn’t made it back, alert me immediately.”
They prepared to move out. A heavy burst of pops went up in the distance.
They spread out. Lorena attached her flashlight to her wrist with the provided strap so if she got knocked off her feet she wouldn’t lose it. She pulled her compass out and made note of her direction, so she could get back if she became disoriented. She unfastened her holster and took her gun out.
Marla positioned on her left and a man on her right. She kept them in her peripheral awareness. The trees were close-packed, and some of the branches low, the forest floor a thick carpet of fallen leaves. She moved forward slowly and carefully, so she wouldn’t trip or whack her head. She kept the flashlight pointed in front of her, and expected at any second for something to jump into the beam.
They moved in the general direction of the mountain. She tuned in to the sounds around her—the others moving through the leaves, the pops in the distance. Other than that, the night was oppressively still.
A good five minutes passed, slow-going and marked by heavy concentration, before she started to tingle.
The sensation came upon her in electric pulses, which shot up her arms and down her spine. Her vision sharpened and her lungs expanded. Her senses seemed to wake up and take in more of her surroundings. At least it would be an advantage, even if it was distracting.
The feeling swelled around her like a bubble. Information seeped through the thin skin of it: the pulse of the valley, the sense of nature, and…terror. Grief.
She stopped short, and closed her eyes against the oppressive emotion. It was like feeling a scream. Pain washed over her, not her own, but from something outside her. She clenched her fingers tight around the flashlight and the butt of her gun.
This couldn’t be happening. Not now. Not here.
She opened her eyes, dizzy, disoriented, and she didn’t know where Marla and the man to her right were anymore. Everything seemed to blend together and vibrate in her vision.
This was a terrible time for her witchy abilities to kick in. She tried to shake it off but she still felt it, the pain rolling through the valley. So much fear and desperation. What they were doing to these creatures was awful. They were frightened and suffering.
She shifted her focus to the memories of her mother, to the vivid image of the bite on her thigh, and the blood that leaked from her nose and mouth. They did that to her. They deserved to die.
“Stop,” she whispered, and squeezed her eyes shut again. “Stop this.”
Even with her eyes closed, she could see the forest around her. She could sense every inch of the night. She could feel the approach of something frightened, something rushing toward her…
She snapped her eyes open and pointed the flashlight beam in front of her. The light revealed nothing but trunks and leaves. She held her breath.
Glistening golden eyes suddenly appeared, gazing at her from the depths of the foliage.
Chapter 12
“I’m sorry again about earlier,” Jack said. “Downtown, when I got all riled up. This thing has been trying my nerves. I hate the way people in this town don’t trust us to take care of it no more, the way they put their faith in that agency.” He snorted. “There was a time when our family was the only line of defense. Now, we might as well not exist.”
“It gets to me too,” Deacon admitted. “But I like to think we still got a place here. Even if we don’t get the praise for it, we gotta keep doing our job. We’ve known all our lives this is what we do. We don’t need rewarded for it. The reward is knowing we kept them monsters out there in the dark for one more night.”
“I reckon so.”
“And don’t worry about what happened downtown. If you and I apologized every time we took a swing at each other, we’d get nothing else done.”
Jack grinned. “We love to tangle, don’t we?”
“Got my ass in trouble with my Mama more than a few times, tangling with you.”
“Same here.”
The deck door slid open. Zeke walked out of the house, gun on his shoulder and a sandwich in hand.
“Nothin’ stirring?” he asked around a mouthful.
“Nope,” Jack said. “All quiet.”
“Maybe I ought to call and check up on everyone.” Deacon needed to get his mind off Lorena. “Make sure all’s well.”
“Good idea.” Jack nodded. “I’ll call my folks in a bit.”
Deacon stood up, and Zeke took his chair, still munching on his sandwich. Deacon went in the house and took his phone and gun with him. The kitchen was bright but his eyes adjusted fast, as they always did to changes in light and dark. He couldn’t imagine how regular humans did it, not having their senses sharp and ready all the time.
He called his parents first. His Mama said his Daddy was out on the back porch with his gun, but they hadn’t seen or heard anything. His Daddy was getting on in years, but he was strong and fast as ever. Deacon had once seen him cut down three Wolvites, one right after the other, before any of them had time to react. He could pump a shotgun with lightning speed, and he knew a Wolvite was approaching from a hundred yards.
He called his grandparents next and his Grandpa answered. He too was watching the night, gun at the ready. Grammy had gone to bed. Pride rose in his Grandpa’s voice when he said he would protect her from anything. What would he think of Lorena? He’d probably like her, more than Grammy did.
He calle
d a few other relatives, but all was well.
Deacon finished his calls, tucked his phone in his pocket, and grabbed another beer from the fridge. As he cracked it open, Jack shouted.
“Deacon! Come out here!”
Deacon set the bottle down and grabbed up his gun. He hurried outside.
Jack and Zeke stood on the deck, gazing across the yard. Deacon scanned the tree line in the distance.
“See it?” Jack pointed.
He did. A hunched shape in the darkness, loping back and forth in front of the trees. Even from that distance, a good football field away, the shape stood out all too familiar. The beast seemed to pace, going one way, then the other, like it was looking for something.
“The ward must be holding,” Jack said. “It can’t figure out how to get in.”
They couldn’t pick it off from this distance, no matter how good a shot any of them were. Deacon tracked its movements, but then something else caught his attention, deeper in the trees—a flicker, but it was too dark in there for even him to make out.
“I think there’s more. They’re in the trees.”
“They must be running this way.” Zeke cocked his gun. “Running into that ward though, sorry about your luck. Reckon we ought to go down there and blast ‘em? If that ward is holding, they can’t come at us. Our advantage.”
Jack squinted at Deacon. “What do you think?”
Deacon shrugged. “Ain’t no good Wolvite but a dead Wolvite.”
They checked their guns and grabbed some more shells, then descended from the deck into the dew-damp yard. The night was silent as could be, not even a breeze blowing. They strode toward the trees, ready for battle. Not much of a battle though, at least not for the stray Wolvites. Deacon didn’t have an ounce of sympathy. This was payback for the two ambushes they’d laid on him now.
As they drew closer, the behavior of the Wolvite seemed to grow more erratic. The thing’s movements became frantic as it scurried back and forth, pawing at the ground. Deeper in the trees, at least two more shuffled around.
They got within fifty feet of the tree line, still well inside the ward. They stopped and leveled their guns on the creature. Though they were certainly within its sight, it didn’t acknowledge them.
