G.H.O.S.T. Teams (Book 2) Shifters

by Bobby Brimmer

  Shifters

  G.H.O.S.T. Teams Book Two

  By Bobby Brimmer

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN# 978-0-9855806-2-9

  Copyright © 2013 by Bobby Brimmer

  www.BobbyBrimmer.com

  This book is dedicated to the newest ninja in my family, Melissa Belle. Uncle Bobby loves you.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

  Special Thanks to my editor, Terry Drosdak, for taking my ramblings and turning them into English. You rock Terry. Any mistakes in this text are my own.

  Special Thanks to Steve Tarr for lending me his character Vector. BD’s world wouldn’t have been the same without him. Thanks bro.

  Special Thanks to my first readers, Patti and Chris Crouch. Great feedback.

  Special Thanks to Eric Krause for giving style to my cover lettering. He can be contacted here for his graphics awesomeness: EricKrauseGraphics.com

  The artist behind my amazing cover is Levente Rückert. More of his work and contact information can be found here: http://tanathiel.deviantart.com

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  CHAPTER 1

  Due to my awesome ninja skills, incredible good looks, and heaps of modesty, I am the latest addition to the government’s super-secret paranormal police force, The GHOSTs. An organization that operates in those all-concealing shadows, keeping the monsters from putting a bump in your night. A few weeks ago, on my first mission, I saved the world. You’re welcome. My current mission, however, was lacking that high-profile pizzazz. In fact, the only positive so far was a certain pair of tight fitting jeans on a teammate. I just needed to deal with the two werewolves that were distracting me from my view.

  Werewolves, or lycans as they are now commonly called, are vicious creatures. When they are in their full on, scary-time werewolf form, they stand between six and eight feet tall. A fact that means they always look down on my five-foot-eleven self. They are clearly humanoid with overly large upper bodies and relatively skinny legs that look like they belong on the back end of a real wolf. Thick fur of varying colors and patterns covers their bodies, sharp pointy teeth fill their mouths, and dangerous claws finish off their hands. As an added bonus, they are also incredibly strong, absurdly fast, and they heal rapidly from any wound not inflicted with silver. All in all they are a pain to deal with. Isn’t my job great?

  The wolf on my left was very tall and covered in white and grey fur while the wolf on my right was closer to six foot, super stocky and covered in mostly black fur. I decided to call my new friends Salt and Pepper. I say friends because they weren’t actually mad at me yet; they were trying to kill each other. Who better than your friendly neighborhood ninja to calm things down? The two lycans were so engaged in their own fight they had hardly noticed me taking out eight of their closest friends. All of that was about to change, as I decided I wanted their undivided attention.

  We had been dealing with lycan bar-fights for two weeks now, so we came into this mess well prepared. My gloves and boots were laced with silver, and I carried a pair of silver-coated clubs on my back. I also had several sharp silver weapons on my person, but in an attempt to keep things non-lethal, I was avoiding those. I watched Salt and Pepper go back and forth at each other while I waited for an opening. It was Pepper who provided it.

  Salt had just slashed Pepper across the chest and was leaning in to sink his teeth into Pepper’s neck. Unfortunately for Salt, Pepper was too fast for him. Salt’s jaw fell short as Pepper slashed him across the throat. The wounds were deep and Salt staggered back. As I said, lycans heal really fast, so it was unlikely that Salt’s wounds were fatal. But, if I didn’t act quickly, Pepper would finish the job.

  Pepper stepped in to press his advantage. At that moment I burst forward and kicked Pepper in the side, knocking his claws off target. Salt, bleeding heavily from his wounds, stumbled to the ground with his hands on his throat. Pepper turned immediately towards me and lunged forward. His jaw agape and both sets of claws slashing forward, he was like something out of a horror movie. Sure, it looked scary as hell, but tactically, it wasn’t the best move.

  You see, while turning into a giant furry killing machine does make you badass, it comes at a price. The beast takes control. They turn into creatures of almost pure emotion and instinct. Now, I am not saying that they are completely devoid of intelligence. Something of their human side does remain, but when they are fighting, don’t expect tactics. Against a normal human, all of their natural advantages are more than enough to get them through the fight. Pepper, however, was fighting me, and I like to consider myself anything but normal.

  It was clear that there would be no reasoning with Pepper. He had a dozen wounds and I couldn’t see a trace of his humanity behind those savage eyes. I needed to drop him quick before his buddy Salt recovered. A moment before the wolf landed, I rolled to my left, under his slashing claws. Springing to my feet, I turned just in time to see his right claws swinging for my head. I ducked under the attack and Pepper immediately lunged forward with his left.

  He was getting a little too close for comfort, so I decided to give myself a bit of breathing room. Since Pepper wasn’t much taller than me, I spun into the attack, grabbed his wrist and arm, and shifted my weight back into his lower body. I was able to kick his feet off the ground and hurl him over my shoulder into the nearest wall. Sure, it was a bit flashy and probably not the smarted move to pull out in a fight… but sometimes you want to be able to tell your friends that you threw a werewolf. He bounced head first off of the wall and crashed to the floor. Scrambling to his feet, he stood up, leaning back against the wall and shaking his head side-to-side in a daze.

  I wasn’t planning on wasting my opening, so I burst forward and kicked him hard in the chest. His head slammed back against the wall and I stomped my foot down fast onto his paw, just to make sure I had his attention. He snarled and swung madly with both claws, just missing my scalp as I dipped underneath and to the side. His right knee was wide open so I kicked the side of it as hard as I could. There was a loud pop followed by a howl. He turned towards me and I swung my silver gloved fist up through his jaw. I immediately followed-up by stabbing my left hand into his throat, forcing his head forward. Then, dropping my full weight into the attack, I hammered my right fist into his forehead.

  His feet went out from under him and his body started falling towards the ground. Leaping into the air, I was allowing gravity to accompany me on this attack. Timing my strike perfectly, I drove my knees into his chest a second after he impacted the ground. As his chest caved and his head leaned forward, I drove the bottoms of both fists into his face. His head thudded against the floor and he was unconscious. I sprung to my feet and got my distance in case t
he wolf was playing opossum. It only took a few moments, but as I watched his shallow breathing, I started to hear small popping sounds. I recognized it as the sound of his bones shifting back to their human form, telling me for certain that he was out cold.

  I knew that Pepper had been one of the tougher lycans in the bar, but that didn’t mean that I wanted to give Salt a chance to return to fighting form. As I hurried over I noticed that he was on one knee and trying to get back up on his feet. He looked wobbly and unsteady and I was pretty sure one good shot would take him out. Without breaking stride, I kicked up as hard as I could and caught him right under the jaw. He never saw it coming as I moved in from his blind side and struck him with the full force of my kick. I heard his jaw snap as his head flew back and his unconscious body hit the floor. Satisfied that Salt and Pepper were both out of commission, I turned my attention to prettier matters.

  There was only one lycan still fighting in the room, and he was facing Erika. I started moving in that direction in case she needed any assistance, but it appeared that she had things under control. Erika stood about five-foot-six with almost no assistance from her flat-soled leather boots. She wore a white collared shirt underneath a brown vest, although a few werewolf claws had left her shirt fairly shredded. Her long black hair was in a braid that reached down towards her waist and almost touched her form fitting blue jeans, which were neatly tucked into her boots. As much as I’d like to dwell on her backside, even it paled in comparison to a face that would take your breath away. Lightly tanned skin and big, dark eyes were a gift of her Cherokee heritage. She had a narrow nose that led down to a pair of full, pouty lips accented nicely by her high cheekbones. Wrap all of that up and add it to her fighting ability and you had one hell of a woman. If I were to admit to a weakness, other than every attractive woman on the planet, it would be a woman who can handle herself in a fight. Is there anything sexier than a badass chick?

  Erika’s opponent however, was not nearly as fun to look at. He stood over seven feet tall with brown and tan fur and a nasty disposition. And in case you are wondering how I knew whether or not these wolves were male, let’s just say that most clothing doesn’t survive their transformation. Yeah, I know, I’m not happy about it either. Yet another reason I preferred to focus on Erika. She liked to keep her distance, so instead of the gloves and boots that I wear, Erika used a pair of silver tipped batons to keep the wolf at bay.

  The lycan swung its left claws and Erika blocked it with her right baton while simultaneously striking with her left. She caught the wolf across the chin and it snarled in return. It swung its right hand and Erika simply mirrored her last move, blocking with her left and striking with her right. The wolf stumbled back and I could hear the slight sizzle as silver touched its skin. Erika took the chance to press her advantage.

  As the wolf tried to swing its left claws at her head, she stepped outside and continued the momentum of the lycan’s arm forward by striking it in the elbow with her left baton. She then struck the wolf in the ribs with her right baton. A flurry of strikes followed as Erika repeatedly pummeled the creature. She moved so fast that I could hardly believe it, each motion almost blurring from view. The wolf then started to stagger and stumble to the ground. Erika took the chance to glance my way and wink. I couldn’t help but smile. Apparently my showboating was a bit contagious. Unfortunately, her opponent noticed her momentary distraction and used that opening to lunge forward with all the strength he had left.

  The wolf moved with frightening speed. I didn’t think Erika could get out of the way in time and I was too far off to do anything. But somehow, moving faster than I’d ever seen, she dropped into a crouch below the lunging lycan. I realized at that moment that she had lured him into the attack. As the wolf passed overhead, she stood up and used both batons to strike the creature in the solar plexus. His whole body arched from the impact, and he lashed down at her wildly as he spun through the air. But Erika had positioned herself perfectly out of his range. The lycan crashed to the ground on the back of his head and Erika sprung forward before he could recover. She struck him on the forehead with each of her batons and he was unconscious. A series of pops followed as his fur retreated into his skin and his limbs snapped back into their more familiar human form, after which a perfectly normal looking naked man lay bruised and battered upon the floor. The transformation was a weird thing to witness.

  Since all the threats were dealt with, I pondered Erika’s speed for a moment. She was in amazing shape, but even so, her strength and speed seemed to be a little too good. I’d often gotten the impression that she was holding back slightly when we trained, but I hadn’t been sure. I was about to ask her about it when she smiled at me and I forgot what I was going to say. It wasn’t fair. That smile was deadly. I tried to get my mind back on the job at hand by touching the black leather bracer on my left wrist.

  “Hey Vlad, let ‘em know that we’re clear.”

  “Got it boss,” I heard Vlad say in my head.

  Vlad, in case you forgot, is my car. You’ll meet him again in just a minute. At that moment, the front door burst open as several GHOST security personnel entered the bar and started rounding up all the prisoners. As a precaution, we’d hold the wolves in cells overnight, just to make sure that everyone calmed down. There didn’t seem to be any deaths or permanent injuries, so there was no need to deal out any harsher punishment. As the lycans were being secured, I walked over to check Erika’s wounds. She had a few scrapes and cuts, but nothing major. In fact her biggest issue was clothing related. A slash across her front had shredded her shirt, vest, and sliced open her bra. A quick look at the cuts let me know that they were shallow and not life threatening. A less gentlemanly chap might lean a bit to the right and be rewarded with a splendid view. As it was, I grabbed one of the discarded jackets on the floor and draped it across her front.

  “Done looking already?” she gibed.

  “Hey, I was checking your wounds.”

  “And how did they look?” she smirked.

  “Um…firm?” I tried.

  She gave me a dirty look before finally letting out a small laugh and then punching me in the shoulder, hard.

  “I knew there was no right answer to that question,” I said while rubbing my shoulder.

  She shook her head and put the coat on, zipping it up. We both glanced around at our surroundings. The bar wasn’t that big, maybe forty by forty feet. The floor was covered in kindling that used to be wooden tables and chairs. Sixteen men and three women lay naked and unconscious, no trace of their werewolf forms remaining. I walked over to the bartender and checked on him. He had been unconscious when we arrived, a result of his attempts to stop the fight. Luckily for him, he’d placed a call to the GHOSTs before he got taken out. He was badly injured, so I waved a medic over and they started checking his wounds. Like all wolves, he would heal fast, even in human form, so I was pretty sure that he was going to be fine. In fact, there had been relatively few casualties in these fights so far. Again, thank the healing factor of the lycan.

  As I looked around the bar I couldn’t help but think about how much Visine would have enjoyed this. A couple of weeks ago we’d almost gotten ourselves killed saving the world. It turned out that Visine was the key to releasing Merlin and stopping Morgana. You heard that right, The Merlin and Morgana. But the mojo that brought Merlin back also returned a thousand years of missing memories to Visine. With the return of his memories, he said there were things that he needed to check on. He didn’t say when or even if he would be back. But I had a feeling that our paths would cross again. The bonds formed by war are not easily forgotten. So, as my sidekick took a vacation, it was just me and my team. They weren’t a bad bunch, but they were far from battle-ready. As it was, I only allowed Erika to join me in combat.

  During our first mission, a few weeks back, my entire team was taken out of commission when they ran off into a fight without me. Timothy, our team tech specialist, didn’t survive. Although I wa
sn’t technically in charge of the team, I decided that there were going to be a few ground rules when it came to combat. The first was that no one on my team was allowed to go into any of these dangerous situations unless they started training with me. To their credit, they all showed up that first day. But it took less than an hour for most of them to quit. I was hard on them, but I had to be. The streets would be far less kind. Erika was the only one who didn’t quit. She was already a fighter and possessed plenty of natural skill. Every time we trained I could see improvement, but today’s demonstration of speed and strength made it clear that there was more to Erika than met the eye. I really wanted to talk to her about it, but at that moment the rest of the team wandered in.

  The black gentleman in a pale green tweed suit was Freddy, our fearless leader and walking encyclopedia. He was just over six-feet tall and wore deep burgundy shoes to match his burgundy bowtie. A pair of thick-framed round glasses went perfectly with his British accent. Freddy’s was in his mid-twenties and his cheery disposition was always accompanied by his friendly smile. He looked in our direction and headed on over.

  Behind him was the beautiful red-haired and green-eyed Kara, our team witch. Her pale Irish skin showed off a trail of freckles across her soft cheeks and dainty nose. She was about five-foot-three but thanks to high-heeled red boots she currently stood several inches taller. She had on a small stylish black coat over a red blouse and black skirt, all of which hinted at her voluptuous figure. Kara also appeared to be in her mid-twenties, although we knew that she was in fact a decade older. Befitting her job on the team, her smile was enchanting.

  Bringing up the rear was an olive skinned young man in a cheap blue pinstriped suit named Danny, the team mentalist. His thick black hair was cut short and a thin mustache crossed his upper lip. He stood about five-foot-eight and was in decent shape. Barely out of his teens, Danny carried himself with the cockiness of youth.