The Awakened World Boxed Set

by William Stacey

  "I smell like a man," Rowan said, working the action on his sub-gun. "Not a house ape like you."

  "Hey," snapped Casey. "No chambering rounds in my aircraft."

  "Blow it out your ass. How long?"

  "Thirty seconds. Coming in from the northwest like you asked."

  Rowan grunted and rose from his seat, squeezing Angie's shoulder as he did. "Let's go."

  Angie followed him as he slipped into the cabin, joining Tavi and her troops. Rowan repeated Tavi's instructions to her soldiers, making sure they understood what was required. Each man watched Rowan with complete attention. Angie, hearing the authority in Rowan's voice, recognized that the soldiers would follow his instructions even though only a day earlier, he had been considered an enemy. The Norteno soldiers were frightened, and frightened men grasped at strength and confidence. Rowan Seagrave might have been a werewolf and a Coastie, but he was also a lifelong Special Forces soldier, and these men recognized that. No matter what Tavi thought, Rowan was now in charge and would be until they were safe again. She felt a bit bad for Tavi.

  But only a bit.

  As the aircraft slowed, descending quickly, her stomach lurched, and she hung on to the bulkhead. The men tensed. The side doors were open, with a Norteno soldier manning each of the miniguns. The silver desert flashed below, rocks and cacti. Then the aircraft spun abruptly, and the wheels touched down.

  "Go!" Rowan slapped a man on the shoulder.

  The Norteno soldiers exited the aircraft, moving with more professionalism than Angie would have expected from men who had never trained in heliborne insertions. Her heart hammering, she jumped out onto the desert a moment before Tavi did. Both mages drew their swords. Casey kept the turbines running but at a reduced tempo that would use less fuel. Angie looked about and then saw the Norteno base in the distance, a black shape against the bright stars.

  Even from this far away, the reek of death was in the air.

  Chapter 8

  The stench of death grew worse as Angie and the others approached Fort Eagle Pride. The fort was built in the shape of a triangle with walls of raised dirt topped by sandbags, corrugated iron sheets, and blocks of concrete. One point of the triangle pointed south, its sloping sides providing unrestricted arcs of fire in the direction from which the Aztalans would most likely approach.

  Rowan led them from the north, approaching the base of the triangle where the entry gates were located. The fort’s walls were high, more than ten feet tall, and topped by a row of razor wire. Such a large fort could easily support a company of soldiers, maybe even a battalion. This is a hardened target, Angie realized. A hundred men could hold it against ten times their number for days. But it was deathly quiet as they approached.

  Two hundred meters or so from the fort, Rowan raised his hand, silently stopping the others. He looked to Angie, waiting, and she nodded. Closing her eyes, she cast out her life-sense ability. Instantly, she saw the glow of life-forms flare into existence around her but nothing larger than a rodent. She shook her head at Rowan, and he motioned for the others to follow him once more.

  Angie followed Rowan with Tavi at her side. The two sections of Norteno commandoes spread out behind them in an arrowhead formation, covering their front and flanks. A soft wind gusted, moving cold, dry air over Angie's lips and bringing with it a coppery smell that sent a chill down her back.

  As they came with fifty meters of the fort’s gates, Angie heard the squawking of carrion birds behind the walls. Clouds passed over the gibbous moon, making the night even darker. Rowan, she knew, saw perfectly well at night, but she wasn’t a werewolf. If this had been a Home Guard operation, they’d all be wearing night-vision devices, but that was technology the Nortenos simply didn’t possess. Once again, Rowan paused and waited for Angie to use her life-sense ability. She closed her eyes again. This time she detected much more life, most of it within the fort: dozens of small animals, mice, and dozens of large carrion birds, all on the ground—feeding. She couldn’t detect anything large enough to be a person, although it was hard to be certain because the birds were clustered together. The stench of death was much stronger now, as was the coppery smell of blood and stench of voided bowels.

  Opening her eyes again, she shook her head at Rowan.

  He motioned for Angie, Tavi, and the sergeant who led the commandos to follow him while the others remained in place, now kneeling and watching outward. Then Rowan slipped forward in a crouch, his sub-gun held tight to his shoulder. Angie, Tavi, and the sergeant followed.

  Just before they reached the entrance, the clouds cleared around the moon, revealing the ruined gates. Angie stared in disbelief. The corrugated iron and wire gates had been forced inward and twisted out of shape. Rowan stopped and sniffed the air, remaining still for long moments. Finally, he approached the entrance and dropped onto a knee. Angie and the other two joined him, kneeling as well. Rowan made eye contact with each of them and then held up one of the road flares that had been in Tavi's vest, the message clear: get ready.

  All three nodded then looked away and covered their eyes. Rowan ignited the flare in a sizzling flash that was visible even through Angie’s fingers. Rowan threw the flare over the twisted gates and into the interior of the fort. A flock of huge turkey vultures screeched in protest and then winged into the air, revealing the corpses they had been feeding upon. Angie gasped.

  Rowan slipped past the broken gates into the fort, pausing on the other side, his gaze sweeping back and forth. Even with the Other to protect her, Angie didn't think she had the courage to go in first. But moments later, Rowan slipped back outside. "Okay," he said softly. "Whatever did this is gone. Bring the others in, and let's secure this shitshow. Leave a squad to watch the entrance."

  "On it," the sergeant answered, motioning for the others to approach.

  Rowan faced Tavi and Angie. "It's bad."

  "I need to see," Tavi said. "We have to be certain. Morgan was here."

  Rowan reached out, placing his hand on Tavi’s forearm, his eyes filled with surprising compassion for such a hard man. "There may not be enough left to recognize."

  "We came all this way," Tavi whispered. To Angie's ear, she sounded as if she were convincing herself.

  "Come on, then," Rowan said. "Follow me."

  They all entered the base, the soldiers following them. When Tavi saw the extent of the dead, bathed in the red glow of the flare, a sob slipped past her lips. Angie stared about herself breathlessly. The eyes of the dead, glowing crimson in the flare's radiance, stared accusingly at her. There must have been a hundred corpses lying scattered about, all ripped to pieces—heads torn free, entrails pulled out, limbs discarded. The carrion birds had been at the bodies, picking apart the spilled entrails, but the scavengers were not responsible for this destruction. Whatever had killed these soldiers had ripped them apart. It was worse than a slaughterhouse.

  "My god," said Tavi in horror. "How is that possible?"

  The sandy ground was soaked with blood, and Angie’s boots made a soft sucking noise with each step. Her stomach roiled at the carnage. While the interior of the base was largely intact, with the rows of tents remaining in place, much of the canvas had been shredded, as if wolves or lions had ripped them open to get at the men within. The fighting emplacements along the walls were also intact, a mortar and several heavy machine guns still ready for use. Angie stared at that, knowing there was no way Aztalan soldiers would have left valuable weapons like those behind. Then she saw that all the other Norteno weapons and supplies were still here, although hundreds of spent casings lay scattered about.

  They fought back, Angie realized, but she saw no Aztalan corpses, although she wasn’t sure she would have been able to tell amidst all the carnage. No human did this; she was certain of that.

  "We can't stay," Rowan told Tavi. "Whatever killed these men is gone but could return at any moment."

  Whatever, not whoever.

  "Only our dead," said one of the commandos. "How is th
at possible?"

  No one answered.

  "Walls are intact," Rowan said. "No sign of explosives." He glanced at Angie. "Magic?"

  "I don't think so. At least no mana residue I can sense."

  "I can't sense anything either," Tavi added. "We need to check the corpses. See … see if the Mago Commandante is … we need to look."

  "Make it a fast once-over," Rowan said. "Whatever did this could just as easily take out our helicopter—and then us. We need to be gone."

  The commandos spread out, using more flares to illuminate the fort as they checked the corpses. It took longer than Angie would have liked, because many of the dead were missing their heads. To their credit, the Norteno commandoes acted with admirable professionalism, even though they must have felt the same terror Angie did. The stench became too much, and Angie bent over, hands on knees, gasping for air, certain she’d vomit.

  Rowan moved next to her, his hand on the small of her back. "Breathe through your mouth. It helps."

  It did, but only barely.

  Then, still bent over, she saw the tracks for the first time—huge paw prints sunk into the blood-soaked sand, larger than anything she had ever seen before. "Oh, goddamn," she whispered. "What are those?"

  "I noticed them earlier," Rowan answered. "Animals of some kind."

  "Wolves?"

  He shook his head. "Too big, and the prints are all wrong. I don't know what the hell these things are."

  "Werewolves?"

  He let his sub-gun hang from its sling and rolled two cigarettes, lighting both and shoving one into Angie's mouth. She pulled it from her lips, intending to throw it away, but he shook his head. "It'll help, trust me."

  She inhaled, coughing but no longer quite so sick.

  He dropped on a knee and placed a finger inside one of the prints. "Whatever these things are, they don’t weigh as much as we do when we change. Also, they’re on all fours, not upright like us. Some other were-creature maybe."

  "Or a werewolf that turns into an actual wolf."

  "I don't think so," he said, looking away from her. "Like I said before, these aren’t wolf prints. Trust me, I’d know."

  She turned in place, staring at the carnage. "If … when you shift, is it true? Are you invulnerable to anything but silver? Is … could that be why there are no bodies of whatever did this?"

  "Don't have a clue about the silver, Angie. No one's ever shot us with silver bullets before. We're not invulnerable to bullets, but we might as well be. They barely slow us down."

  "So you have been shot?"

  "Not with silver bullets. At any rate, it’d take an awful lot of them to hurt us, and we heal when we change back. Could be the same thing happened here. Thing is ... there's so much blood, I just can't tell if it's all human. "

  "Maybe magic."

  "Maybe." He ground out his cigarette, staring up at something on the base's wall. "Wait a sec." He approached the wall, gripped it with both hands by shoving his fingers right through the cloth of the sandbags, and quickly pulled himself up atop the wall, balancing on it. He pulled something loose from the razor wire and then dropped back down beside Angie, sniffing whatever he held in his hand.

  "What is it?"

  "Fur, I think." He stuffed it into his pocket. "They didn't all come through the gates. Some of them came right over the wall." He spat on the ground, shaking his head. "Poor Norteno bastards never had a chance."

  Tavi and her sergeant returned. Tavi looked as if she was going to faint.

  "Anyone?" Rowan asked.

  Tavi looked away, and it was the sergeant who answered. "Just the dead."

  "Okay, we need to go."

  Angie placed a hand on his arm. "Wait. Let me try once more from inside."

  "You sure?"

  She bobbed her head, but she wasn't sure at all. She felt like her insides were twisted into knots, but she had to try. Angie closed her eyes and cast out her life-sense one last time. It was easier now that the birds had fled. The rodents were still present, and a cloud of flies, but nothing larger. She was about to open her eyes and say as much when she detected a weak glow twenty meters away. She had almost missed it. Her eyes flashed open as surprise roiled through her. "Someone's alive!"

  Tavi and the sergeant stared at her as if she were crazy. Tavi stared at her. "We've looked—"

  Angie was already rushing away, running toward a large pile of dead shoved into the southern point of the triangle, just behind one of the heavy machine-gun posts. She moved among the dead, hauling bodies aside. "Help me," she said in frustration to Rowan.

  With one hand, he easily pulled the corpses away.

  "What are you doing?" Tavi demanded. "These are our—"

  A man groaned from beneath the corpse pile, and Rowan dropped to his knee, cupping a bearded man's head in his hand. "I’ll be damned. We got a survivor."

  The vultures, Angie realized. The flock must have masked his life-sense earlier, or maybe I’m just shitty at the one job I have. She moved out of the way as Tavi and her sergeant rushed to help Rowan.

  "Shane, oh my god, Shane," Tavi said, her voice breaking as she cradled the man's head in her lap.

  It was the Brujas third-in-command, Shane Harper, the good-looking young man who had showed them around the Brujas compound. Blood ran from his scalp, drenching his face and beard, highlighting the whites of his eyes as they opened. "Tavi …" he whispered, his voice barely legible. "I … am I dead?"

  Tavi wiped the blood from his face with her fingers, shaking her head. "No. You're safe. What happened here? What attacked you?"

  His eyes grew large, filled with terror, and his voice shook as he tried to speak. "Monsters. Giant wolves but with long spikes along their spines. They were everywhere. By … by the time we even realized we were under attack … it was too late."

  "Where's Morgan?" Tavi asked.

  "Dead. Saw her go down. They ripped her apart. I couldn’t get to her."

  Tavi closed her eyes as tears streaked her cheeks.

  "What about Tec?" Angie asked.

  "Dead too ... too."

  "We didn't find their corpses," Rowan said. "Are you sure?"

  The wounded mage tried to speak, but then his eyes fluttered, and his head fell back. Tavi moved out of the way as a medic checked his vitals. "Passed out," the medic said. "Mago Diputado, we need to get him to a doctor. Could be a concussion, could be internal bleeding. This—" He paused, scanning the filth and corpses about them. "This isn't the place."

  Rowan pulled aside another corpse, and moonlight glinted from the exposed blade of Shane's hexed saber. He pulled it free and handed it to Tavi. The commandoes were gathering about, and Rowan glared at them. "Stop standing around and do your fucking jobs."

  The commandos, a fire lit under their asses, hurried away, assuming defensive positions near the entrance.

  The sergeant looked to Tavi. "We need to go, Mago Diputado."

  "He's right," Rowan said. "We're exposed here."

  Tavi's face reflected her indecision. "But Morgan—"

  "Isn't here," Rowan snapped. "And is likely already dead. I’m sorry, but make the smart call."

  Her large brown eyes filled with anger, her mouth a tight slash, but she inhaled deeply and looked away. "Sergeant, we're moving."

  "Yes, ma'am."

  With four men carrying Shane, they moved at a trot out of the fort, heading back across the desert to the waiting helicopter. All the way, Angie felt eyes on her, certain whatever had attacked the base was watching them. With each step, her dread grew, her blood pounded in her skull, but then they were back at the aircraft, lifting Shane inside. The others climbed aboard, and Rowan grabbed her elbow, pulling her along.

  She hesitated, turning to stare at the hills to their south, not certain why.

  An animal howled from those hills, a mournful cry that sent a shiver down her spine.

  Rowan picked her up by the waist and thrust her inside the helicopter, jumping in after her. The men were alr
eady manning the miniguns as the helicopter rose and sped north. Her skin drenched in sweat, Angie made her way past Shane's unconscious form. The medic was tending to him.

  Inside the cockpit, voices were raised in argument, and she saw Tavi gesturing at the cockpit window, pointing off to their left, to the west, but Casey was shaking his head. Rowan slipped past Angie, once more sitting in the copilot’s seat.

  "What's going on?" Angie asked.

  "This crazy witch wants to fly to Coronado Island," Casey said, rolling his eyes. "Like we've got the fuel to spare. Gonna end up walking home."

  Coronado Island? The Fey Enclave? "Why?" Angie asked.

  Tavi rounded on her, her eyes flashing. "Because I don't know what the hell's going on. Because I'm not Constance Morgan. And because only Queen Elenaril Cloudborn can help right now."

  "Calm down," Rowan said softly. He glowered at Casey. "She's in charge, not you. It's her call how she uses her fuel. Drive the lady wherever she wants to go."

  Casey snorted, muttering under his breath, but a moment later, the Shrike altered course, heading northwest in the direction of the San Diego ruins and the Coronado Enclave.

  Angie had met Queen Elenaril once before, years earlier when she had visited Char in Fresno. The two Fey had behaved like lionesses probing one another for weaknesses. It had been one of the few times Angie could remember Chararah Succubus being nervous. Elves were alien at the best of times, with their own interests usually at odds with those of everyone else, including other Fey. They had even less time for humans, believing them to be the root of all evil. There were few Fey who harbored more of a hatred for humans than elves.

  And now they were going to one for help.

  Chapter 9

  Less than twenty minutes later, Casey flew the Shrike over the San Diego ruins. The night-vision windshield illuminated the once-beautiful coastal city in shades of green, and Angie leaned past Casey, staring wide-eyed at the remains. She had visited San Diego once as a toddler but remembered little other than the beach and huge waves. Most of the once-famous skyscrapers were now little more than burned-out shells, many tilted or fallen over completely. Like all major cities, San Diego had burned as its residents killed one another over scraps of food. Unlike Fresno, there was no swamp to reclaim the land, only sand and the ghosts of civilization.