For the Good of All (Law of the Lycans Book 7)

by Charles, Nicky

  Maybe it was better to stop while she was ahead.

  She stretched and stood up. The sun was lower in the sky now. Would Stone be returning soon? The idea of having a meal ready for him struck her fancy and she spent some time gathering fruit. Then, recalling how he’d had caught some fish for dinner the previous evening, she decided to try her hand at the task. Stone’s supplies were in a neat pile near the hammock, his large rifle leaning against the backpack as if guarding the contents. Carefully, she slid it aside hoping he had the safety on. She had no idea how to use a gun; she probably should have told him that. Oh, well.

  Stone had used a string and hook yesterday so it had to be in his backpack somewhere. She began to search.

  The contents of the pack were surprisingly meagre without the hammock and mosquito netting tucked inside. A sat-phone, a few packages of dried food, first aid supplies, a water purification kit. She took a moment to examine the kit, wondering what it contained. Iodine tablets and, strangely enough, condoms. Several interesting ideas came to mind as she held the foil packages in her hand, a smile dancing over her lips before she gave her head a shake and continued on with her search. Gingerly, she removed a lethal looking knife and…there it was. A hook and a string.

  Finding a probable location near the river, she prepared to dangle the makeshift fishing rod in the water only to pause and eye the hook.

  No bait.

  Last night, Stone had found some wormy creatures under a rock. The idea of holding a slimy, wiggling bug and piercing it with a hook made her grimace. Maybe baiting the hook wasn’t needed. Maybe she could hex a fish into taking a nibble on the line even without bait. She’d had success with the bee, hadn’t she?

  Frowning in concentration, she willed the fish to bite the hook. One swam close and she held her breath but, with the flick of its tail, it turned and disappeared into deeper water.

  “Maybe I need to be closer,” she murmured. The bee had been only inches away, after all. She stepped into the river and balanced herself on a partially submerged rock ready to try again.

  Water lapped about her ankles. The sun beat down on her back. Birds squawked overhead and bugs buzzed around her uncaring of her irritated frown. A muscle cramped in her leg, but she didn’t move. When an itch tickled the back of her neck, she resisted the urge to scratch. She wasn’t going to give up. Hexing a fish had to be possible, even for an incompetent witch like herself. She bobbled the hook up and down in what she hoped was a tempting fashion and leaned closer focusing all her powers of concentration on the sea creature below her.

  “Come here, fish,” she crooned. “I have surprise for you.”

  “Curious fishing strategy.” Unexpectedly, Stone spoke behind her and she jerked upright with a squeal of surprise, her feet slipping on the rock.

  “Oh fudge!” Arms flailing she tried to regain her balance, the fishing line and hook swinging wildly through the air.

  “Dammit!”

  Splash!

  Stone’s cursing coincided with her landing in the water.

  Sputtering, she bobbed to the surface and pushed her wet hair from her face. “Geez, did you have to scare me half to death?”

  Stone didn’t respond. Instead he glared at her, his mouth clamped over a spot on his forearm.

  “What are you doing?” She waded towards the shore.

  “What do you think I’m doing?” He mumbled the words, his mouth still clamped on his arm.

  “How should I know?” Squeezing water from her hair, she made her way to where he stood.

  “You managed to catch something with your hook.”

  “I did? Where’s the fish?” She glanced about and then noticed the line was in his hand, the hook dangling empty from the end. Understanding dawned. “Oh. Sorry.”

  He grunted and removed his mouth from the wound, poking at the injured flesh.

  “Can I get you a bandage? I read in that survival book that injuries can get infected really quickly in the tropics.”

  “No need. It’s a small puncture and my Lycan metabolism will take care of it.”

  “Must be nice to heal so easily.”

  “It helps. It’s not foolproof, of course.” He seemed to shake off any irritation from being harpooned by the hook, his face returning to its usual implacable expression. “A Lycan can still get sick and die. Severe injuries can lead to scars or permanent injuries, especially if the individual is in a weakened state.”

  She eyed the scar on his face and recalled the ones on his back, wondering not for the first time where it had come from. He didn’t elaborate, returning instead to the topic of her fishing fiasco.

  “Fish don’t generally respond to verbal coaxing, you know.”

  “I was trying to use a hex to get it to bite onto the hook.”

  “Most people use bait.”

  “I know, but the idea of impaling a worm seemed gross.”

  “So you decided to impale me instead?”

  “It was an accident.” She sighed. “My hexes always go wrong.”

  He looked at his arm again. “So it would seem.”

  “I was going to make you fish for dinner. Now we only have fruit.”

  “We’ll survive. No time anyway. We need to break camp.” He headed towards where their supplies were.

  “We do?” She followed behind him. “That means you must have found the Duffys.”

  He nodded. “The reports were correct. Only the kids are left. We have to get them out as soon as possible.”

  Something about his tone caught her attention. “What’s wrong?”

  He turned so quickly she almost ran into him. “You mean beyond the fact that some fucking drug lord named Mendoza is selling poison, has the surrounding communities living in fear, has murdered two Lycans and is planning on selling the pups to human traffickers?”

  Tina winced at his sharp words but stood her ground, her hands planted on her hips. “Sorry. I know it was a stupid comment, but don’t take your bad mood out on me.”

  Stone looked away and rubbed the back of his neck. After a moment, he apologized. “Sorry. You’re right. It’s just situations like this, seeing innocent lives endangered by bloody bastards…” He compressed his lips, a muscle working in his jaw.

  She reached out and placed her hand on his arm. “It’s okay. I understand.”

  He gave a quick nod.

  “So, what’s the plan now?”

  Several hours later, Stone crouched near the base of a large tree, Christina behind him. They’d made better time than he’d thought they would. The little witch continued to impress him, never once complaining as he’d led her along the rough trail he’d discovered that afternoon. Being this close to their goal, he hadn’t dared take the easier route along the river in case they were seen. It had been a punishing journey; heat, humidity and an afternoon rain made the going uncomfortable while leaves slapping against them, roots jutting up and spider webs hanging down at face level added to the misery. She’d been a real trooper.

  Now they were about a couple hundred yards from the former Lycan Embassy, sitting and waiting for the occupants to go to bed for the night. That was when he’d make his move.

  In the meantime, he’d continue to observe the guards and note the shadowy images of people inside the building as they passed by the windows. Rushing in without sufficient current data was what got operatives, and civilians, killed.

  Everything appeared normal. There was no indication they were expecting trouble. So far, the guards were following the same pattern as they had in the afternoon, circling the area every twenty minutes. It should give him ample time to get in and out with the two children.

  Stone eased back so he was leaning against the tree trunk, his hands resting lightly on his rifle, his gaze still fixed on the house.

  “What’s going on?” Christina whispered the words to him.

  “Nothing.”

  “Okay.” She was silent for a minute then spoke again in hushed tones. “Can I ask you som
ething?”

  “What.”

  “The person you were supposed to be working with was a man, right?”

  He nodded, narrowing his eyes as one of the guards paused but it was only to bend and tie a shoe. “Yeah. Jenkins.”

  “That’s what I thought. So if you were heading into the jungle with a man, why do you have condoms in your backpack? Are you bi?”

  Slowly, he turned to look at her, not even trying to hide his shock. “I can honestly say no one has ever asked me that question before. And the answer is no.”

  “Oh. So why the condoms? Are you like a boy scout and always prepared?”

  “They’re for water.”

  “Water?”

  “Yep.” He shifted his eyes back towards the house. “A condom can be used to collect water. They’re waterproof, they stretch and they don’t take up any room in a backpack when travelling light is important.”

  “Wouldn’t they break too easily?”

  “If you wrap it in a t-shirt or put a sock around them, they’re less fragile. It’s not an ideal method, but in a survival situation, they’d do the trick. The ones you found were part of the water purification kit I picked up.”

  “Well, the lowly condom has just risen in my estimation.”

  “You can also use them to keep sand or mud out of the barrel of your gun.” He nodded towards the weapon he was cradling.

  “And we certainly wouldn’t want your gun getting dirty, would we.”

  He gave her a wink, acknowledging her double entendre. “We certainly wouldn’t.”

  Tina grinned and settled back against the tree.

  Stone returned to observing the guards. He could sneak up on them one at a time, quietly break their necks and dump the bodies in the jungle. It would be a fitting end for them, allowing them to be eaten by scavengers just as the Duffys had been. Unfortunately, it also increased the chance of discovery since one of the guards was bound to notice his compatriots were slowly disappearing.

  “Why do you do this?” Tina shifted beside him, leaning lightly against his side.

  He stiffened for a moment at the contact and then relaxed. It was a nice feeling, knowing he wasn’t alone. It also made him nervous as it gave him another person to be responsible for, another innocent life he could accidentally lose.

  “Stone?” She prompted him and he realized he hadn’t answered her question.

  “Why do I observe first? So I know the pattern of movement—”

  “No, I mean this.” She waved her hand about. “Why do you travel all over like a soldier of fortune?”

  “Believe me, there’s not much fortune involved.”

  “You’re avoiding my question again.”

  In the dim light he could see her looking at him again and guilt pricked his conscience. She was risking her life to help him, perhaps she deserved some kind of an answer. “Virtus.”

  She scrunched up her face. “The Roman god or the Latin word? Though they both have elements in common.”

  “It was the name I gave the organization I created.” He flicked a glance her way. “Its purpose was to help anyone in need who fell between the cracks of the Lycan Link bureaucracy.”

  “That sounds very noble.”

  He snorted. “Nobility has nothing to do with it. This is what I am.”

  “What you are?”

  A sigh escaped him. “Shomrei Virtus.”

  She furrowed her brow as if thinking. “I’ve heard that term before.”

  “It’s an old Lycan designation. I’m a member of the guardian caste, one of the Shomrei Virtus or Guardians of Justice.”

  “Okay, now I remember. I read it in a book, something about a Shomer wreaking vengeance on a town for their evil ways. I thought it was a myth.” She cocked her head. “Why did you choose that instead of just being a regular Enforcer?”

  “It’s not a myth and being an Enforcer is a job. Being a Shomer isn’t a choice, it’s part of you, part of your genetic code. Only a few Lycans are born in each generation with the heightened sense of justice that a Guardian has.”

  “And you’re stronger and faster than other Lycans, right?”

  “Some might think so. Sometimes it’s just how people perceive us.” He gave a one-shouldered shrug. “In the heat of the moment it might seem we can do extraordinary things, but when adrenaline kicks in a lot of people are capable of great things. I think it’s more a case of dedication, honing your skills, exercise.”

  She reached up and squeezed his bicep. “So if I exercise enough I can get muscles like this?”

  He gave a crooked grin. “You never know.”

  “You know—”

  He hushed her with a finger pressed to his lips. A nod towards the buildings they’d been observing revealed the compound was now shrouded in darkness save for a lone flickering light spilling from one window. After a moment, it, too, was extinguished. It would appear the occupants had turned in for the night. “Almost time to make my move.”

  His Lycan vision was good, but he dug in his backpack and took out a pair of night goggles to help him survey the area once more. Some operatives might rely solely on their Lycan abilities, but he’d never been one to turn up his nose at technology if there was a chance it would increase the odds of a successful mission. Pinpointing the exact location of the guards was crucial if he was to slip past them.

  “I’ll give it another ten minutes then slip in and get the pups.”

  “Won’t they be terrified if a strange man grabs them in the middle of the night? Especially wearing those freaky goggles? Maybe I should go with you.”

  He shook his head. “The more people, the greater the chance of detection. They were drugged with cough syrup this afternoon. If they’re still zoned out, it will make my job easier.”

  “What if they aren’t?”

  “If they’re awake—and I’m crossing my fingers that they aren’t—I’m counting on them responding to a warning growl; they’re Lycan pups and instinct should kick in. Either way, I’ll scoop them up and bring them here. We’ll each carry one and head back towards the river.”

  Stone handed her the backpack and then slipped his rifle off. “I’ll leave this here. I can’t use it carrying two kids.” He handed her the AK-47.

  She held it gingerly. “I don’t like guns.”

  “Sometimes they’re necessary.”

  “I suppose I should have told you earlier on that I have no idea how to use one of these.”

  He looked at her. “Yeah, that was probably important information.” He held back a sigh as he thought back to how he’d left the rifle behind that afternoon believing she’d have some protection while he was gone.

  She winced no doubt sensing his exasperation. “You just point and shoot, is that the idea?”

  “Watch this.” In two fluid movements, he mimed releasing the safety, bringing the gun to his shoulder and pulling the trigger. “Brace it with your shoulder, look down the sights. Be prepared for some kickback. Fire two to three shots at a time. Aim for their chest and let the recoil work for you. A chest shot does a lot of damage and the recoil from the second and third shot will take off the enemy’s head.”

  She made a face. “I don’t even want to think about taking off someone’s head. I’d probably vomit and still be retching by the time the rest of the bad guys arrived.”

  “Believe me, adrenaline would kick in.”

  “Hopefully we won’t have to put that theory to the test. The chances of me hitting anything are somewhere between remote and zero.”

  “Use strafing shots then.” He flipped the stock out of the way. “Fire from the hip. Three or four to the left, then the right in a random pattern to keep them guessing. It will at least slow them down and sometimes even a small edge is better than none.”

  “What about you?”

  He bared his teeth, then patted the knife strapped to his thigh and the .9 mm gun at his waist. “Don’t worry about me, I’m covered.”

  Stone checked h
is watch. It was time to move if they wanted to be sufficiently away from here before dawn broke. “I’m going in. It should only take me ten minutes tops. If anything happens, I’ll draw the fire my way and you run. Head back the way we came, use the sat-phone to call for help as soon as you can.”

  She nodded and swallowed hard. “Okay.”

  He studied her pale face and wide eyes. She was scared spitless which was why she’d been chattering like a magpie earlier. He cupped the back of her head, his thumb caressed her cheek. Her eyes closed and she seemed to relax, lightly leaning into his touch.

  “Brave girl.” He whispered the words as he pressed a kiss to her forehead and then silently made his way towards the compound. No wolf form this time. He needed arms to carry the kids. Timing his moves to give him the maximum window of opportunity, he darted towards the room where he’d seen the children earlier.

  Luck was on his side or the gods were smiling. Maybe the spirits of the children’s parents were helping as well. Whatever the case, the pups were still sleeping in the same bed. Silently, he levered the screen out of its frame and eased himself inside.

  The house was silent and the children barely murmured when he lifted them in his arms. Pressed against the wall, he peered out the window, watching the guards pass by. They didn’t look his way. He counted down from twenty then swung a leg over the windowsill, slid to the ground and ducked into the shadows once again.

  His heart was pounding, adrenaline rushing through his veins. It was only yards until they reached the relative safety of the jungle. Last time, his last mission, it had been like this, too. Freedom had been in sight. He’d gotten careless, urged the women to move faster instead of opting for stealth. If only…

  If only… His wolf repeated the sentiment, the sense of failure still stinging deeply.

  He shook his head and blinked. Not now. He had to stay focused on his job, on the children. There’d be time enough to wallow in regrets from the past once they were safely back on U.S. soil.

  Yes, the mission, our duty. His wolf clung to those facts, years of experience kicking in, allowing both of them to function on autopilot.