by John Conroe
“That’s him,” Stacia said. “What, exactly, may we do for you, Mr. Bowwan? We’re on our way out. A little matter of some rogue werewolves and a witch, you might recall?” Stacia asked.
Bowwan was staring at Draco, who had now laid his head on Declan’s shoulder, still watching the two older men. He took a breath and stepped back. “I apologize, young master crafter. It was not my intention to come across as a judgmental bumpkin. It’s just I had a certain expectation based on Miss Reynold’s ward and I was… unprepared… for the reality. You are even more powerful than I surmised. But I wanted to deliver what help I could,” he said, turning and walking back to his truck. He reached into the bed and pulled out a bundle of evergreen boughs.
“Juniper mixed with blackberry, with a little marigold and daffodil mixed in,” he explained.
Declan was nodding. “Strong, locally grown protection from evil and death magic,” he said. “Thank you. That saves me from scrounging a much less effective alternative.” He looked calmer and his tone seemed sincere, but Stacia could hear his heartbeat pounding with constrained anger. He didn’t forget comments, no matter how oblique, that maligned his aunt and his mother. For a local wise man, Maurice had made a monumentally bad first impression.
“I also have this…” Maurice said, holding up an Altoids tin.
“Does my breath stink that bad?” Declan asked, eyebrows up. He knew damn well it wasn’t mints, but his default setting was wiseass.
“No, no, of course not. This is Chaga mushroom. From the boles that grow on birch trees. A powerful antioxidant tea is made from it, said to even cure cancer,” Maurice said.
“Antioxidants? That’ll be handy if we live through the morning. Keep the plaque off my artery walls and all that,” Declan said, frowning.
“When the tea is brewed with the power of an adept, it becomes something much much more. A healing draught of impressive capability,” Maurice said, frowning at Declan’s sass.
“How impressive?” Declan asked. “Wait, I remember hearing about it now,” he said, glancing at Stacia. Probably remembering something from the Book of Darkest Sorrow, she thought.
“Depends on the crafter. Heat the water with your power and think of what you want the tea to accomplish. But the tea must be consumed immediately after brewing or it will lose its power very quickly.”
Now the tall local adept turned to Stacia. “After you left the other day, I entered my sweat lodge and spent a good deal of time contemplating the situation and communing with my ancestors. My real purpose today is to leave you with the impression that I came away with from that ceremony. Nature seeks balance. The universe seeks balance. And from time to time, when the balance of things is broken and things are pushed too far in one direction, an opposite reaction occurs to push it back the other way.”
“Statisticians call it returning to the mean,” Declan said, which earned him a raised eyebrow from Stacia. “What? It’s in that business class I’m taking.”
“A very good analogy. Like the stock market crashing one year and then rebounding the next. Very good, Declan. My point is this: in recent years, good and evil have been far out of balance,” Maurice said.
“What do you mean? Chris Gordon has closed all the gates and sent the demons back to Hell,” Declan said.
“That’s exactly my point. Mr. Gordon is powerful, a giant stride forward in the power of good, if you will, in this realm. The breakout of gates that occurred over the last few years was an attempt by the universe to return to that mean you were talking about. But that was squashed and the balance has been pressed even further out of order. What I’m trying to say is that when you face this pack and this dark witch, I think you have a very good chance of coming across yet another pushback from the other side. A strong rebound.”
“You think the universe wants evil over good?” Stacia asked.
“I think the universe wants a balance in all things. The Creator gave us all the capacity for good and evil. Our time here, in this life, in this realm, has purpose. When we leave this life, the only thing we take with us is what we did while we were here—good and bad.”
Stacia was unconvinced, but a glance at Declan showed him to be deep in thought. He nodded when she caught his eye. “My aunt has said a lot of the same stuff. She never spoke directly about Chris and Tanya, but she’s been on edge since we met them. Almost like she’s been waiting for another shoe to drop,” he said.
“Did she have reservations about you working with us this summer?” Stacia asked.
“No, not really. In fact, she encouraged it. But she’s constantly warning me to be on guard, constantly preparing wards and charms for, like, everything imaginable. She’s been like a witchy survival prepper,” Declan said. “I think she might agree with you, in theory, Mr. Bowwan. At least about this aspect. Probably school you in several other areas, but there ya go.”
“Sooo, what does all this mean?” Stacia asked.
“That we keep our guard up and expect the unexpected. Thank you for the juniper, Mr. Bowwan, and the mushroom extract. Shorty, thanks for dinner and the room,” Declan said, shaking each man’s hand. “We’ll be back after this is over.”
Stacia’s phone buzzed with Buck Thompson’s name on the screen. Exchanging a glance with Declan and Shorty, she accepted the call, putting it on speaker phone.
“Hey Buck, where are you?” she asked.
“At the mill. You and Declan need to get here immediately. Agent Adler moved up the timetable. He’s attacking now without you. He wants this to be a human—normal human—victory. I’ve got a bad feeling it’s going to be a cluster fuck,” the young sergeant said.
Stacia hung up, nodded to Shorty and Maurice, and headed for Beast. The door lock popped up automatically as she approached the passenger door. She turned to look back at Declan, but he was facing the lodge, deep in concentration.
Probably magically erasing any stray hairs, skin cells, or clippings that would have been shed inside the lodge. He had taken it on as his task on the team to sterilize their presence whenever they left a site or job. Inside the building, little puffs of smoke would likely be popping and snapping, especially in their rooms. She turned back to the ’72 Toyota, wondering about the lock.
“Ready?” Declan said, coming up behind her.
“Beast unlocked himself,” she commented.
“Really? He doesn’t do that with most people. Really just me… and now you,” he said with a quick smile before jumping into the driver’s seat. She looked at the green Land Cruiser and then shrugged, giving the roof a pat as she popped open the door and climbed in. Seconds later, they were bouncing down the driveway, Shorty and Maurice dwindling in the distance.
Chapter 26
The first thing they saw as they entered the town was the Apache helicopter hovering on station, its 30mm chain gun aimed at the paper mill. As they got closer, the rest of the scene looked like something out of a movie. Drones of all kinds swooped through the air, at least some of them run by the media crews that were situated on Main Street, blocked from getting closer by police barriers.
They got through the first such barricade by mentioning Grable’s name. Mill Road, which ran alongside the old facility, was like the staging area for a war film.
“It’s like Blackhawk Down, isn’t it?” Declan mused, driving Beast around a black Humvee. Armed and armored agents had already begun to assault the building, entering through two different doors while the Blackhawk swooped low over the building’s roof to drop a squad from repelling ropes.
“That didn’t have a great outcome, if I recall,” Stacia said, frowning at the sheer volume of people and guns.
At the next roadblock, the deputy on duty directed them to the command and control area.
Sergeant Thompson, Sheriff Grable, and several of the other deputies Stacia had met were clustered around a black mobile communications van. “Sheriff, what are you doing? Those men are going to get killed,” Declan said as he exited Beast. Sher
iff Grable didn’t look any happier than they did. He just shook his head and jabbed a thumb inside the van.
“Those men are trained professional fighters, armed with the best weapons and carrying your protective wards,” Adler said from inside. He turned back to the wall of monitors, speaking rapidly into his headset.
“We tried to delay him, at least till you two could get here, but that made him go even faster,” Buck said.
“Goddamned glory hound,” Sheriff Grable swore.
“They’ve breached the doors,” a seated agent said over his shoulder to Adler.
“She won’t let that go unanswered,” Declan said. The first scream came as he finished his sentence.
“Hunter One, advise?” Adler asked, voice even.
“Contact, sir. Agent Kinte is gone. Just yanked away.”
Gunfire sounded, both through the speakers and through the air; a burst of controlled full auto fire mixed with single shots.
“Sit rep, Hunter One,” Adler demanded.
“A swarm of… well… lights, sir. They’re hitting us but the protective gear you issued seems to destroy them. Also, fast-moving shadows in and around the factory floor. Those are the shots being fired.”
“She’s testing your amulets, Agent Adler. Seeing what they can take and wearing away at the wards,” Declan said.
“But they’re working,” Adler stated.
“Yeah, against her lightest defenses. I told you that those amulets were only good for one or two spells. You’re using them up on the easy stuff. If you had waited, I would have cleared those little warden spirits before your guys got near them. You should pull back and we can regroup,” Declan said.
“Not happening, O’Carroll. We’re in and we’ll win,” the giant agent said, turning back to the monitors. “Hunter One, belay that weapons fire. Pop flares and get some light in there.”
On the big main monitor, which had an identifier labeled Hunter 1, the view of the interior of the factory was coming from either a helmet or shoulder camera. Red light flashed in the darkness as flares arced out through the air to land around the squad. A second and third monitor showed views from Hunter 2 and 3, which must be a rear-entry team in the case of 2 and the roof squad in 3’s.
Weapon lights strobed the darkness of the building, which appeared to be almost an unnatural black.
“Shouldn’t more light enter through all those windows? I mean, it’s not full daylight, but that seems darker than it should be,” Stacia said.
“I think she’s causing it,” Declan said. “I can think of two or three spells that would add gloom.”
“Magic can eat light?” Buck asked.
“It can appear to, which is pretty much the same thing if you can’t dispel it. That space is perfect for ambushes; all those abandoned machines to hide behind and around,” Declan said.
“Yeah, a pack of weres would have the advantage in that space,” Stacia said.
Adler gave her an annoyed glance, then spoke into his mic. “Hunter One, this is Hunter Actual. Deploy flood units.”
“Affirmative Hunter Actual,” the calm voice came back. On screen, four agents in heavy battle dress moved in opposite directions before setting down basketball-sized objects that immediately sprouted legs and massive light lenses. Wide angle lights flooded the darkness with intense white light. The units moved themselves to keep the light pointed outward and away from the squad, effectively blinding enemies while leaving the agents’ vision intact.
“New issue. Tested to be resistant to magical interference. I believe you might even know their inventor,” Adler smirked at Declan.
“TJ,” Declan said, receiving a confirming nod from Adler.
On the monitor, a huge wolf head peeked around the side of a hulking steel machine then darted back as rounds from at least two rifles sparked off its metal hiding spot.
A round object flew through the air over the top of the machine at the same time. A flash of light and clap of thunder came a second later as the expertly thrown grenade detonated almost before landing on the other side. A sharp squeal of inhuman pain came immediately on the heels of the blast, and two agents scooted forward to poke rifle barrels around the corner of the machine and deliver a burst each of auto fire.
The whining squeal cut off abruptly.
“Lycan kill confirmed,” one of the onscreen agents said, looking back at Hunter One.
“Excellent work, Team One,” Adler said into his mic before giving Declan and Stacia a smug smile. “Continue mission.”
“Affirmative.”
“She’ll pull back her wolves and send something that’s not impressed by bullets or bombs,” Declan said.
“Like what?” Grable asked.
Declan, whose eyes were pinned to the monitor, suddenly pointed. “Like that,” he said.
“Contact,” the team leader said. Motion flooded the floor of the mill, a black wave that flowed from all directions. Gunfire sounded as strobes of muzzle flash licked out into the oncoming mass, which quickly resolved into a moving carpet of small animals. Declan recognized fishers, weasels, raccoons, skunks, a couple of bobcats, coyotes, several dogs, and an abundance of cats. At first, they were moving too fast to get a good look, but somehow Declan had the impression that the animals looked… tattered. Then a stumbling agent crossed the team leader’s camera feed and it was apparent that the big black fisher attacking the man’s face had seen better days. Like living days. It was missing an eye and one foreleg flopped brokenly, but the vicious thing still sank its teeth into the body armor that was protecting the agent from getting his throat ripped out.
Turning to Stacia, Declan gave her sleeve one tug and a head nod toward the mill. Silently she agreed, shifting her DP-12 on its sling for better travel. Then they were off, running all out.
“What the hell were those things?” Stacia asked.
“Revenants. Animated remains. It happened at Rowan West back when I first met Caeco. But those were humans, and it took a full circle to power and control them. This witch has probably been working on these little ones for months, building up her mini-army. Every roadkill or wolf kill that didn’t get eaten could have been reanimated, then stored in stasis for just this kind of thing,” he replied, voice choppy because of the running.
Voices yelled at them from the police lines as they ran, and Stacia was aware of at least two drones that flew in their direction. Declan ignored everything, running hard for the entrance that Adler’s first team had entered, his neck covered in black tattoos that told Stacia he was drawing on magic to fuel his speed.
Inside the door, the entry team was immediately visible, a group of frantic men fighting a horde of small, violent enemies whose numbers and speed made weapons fire more dangerous to the agents than their attackers.
Declan never hesitated, barreling up to the combat team, which was too preoccupied to notice and maybe accidentally shoot the two of them. His left hand dug deep into his Crafting bag and when he pulled it out, he swung it in an arc before him. Glittering white crystals flew into the swarm, causing an immediate effect. The biting animals hit by the blessed salt simply stopped being animated, collapsing into the rotting corpses that they were. Moving quickly, Declan threw handfuls of salt in all directions, stopping most of the attackers in their tracks. But the bigger animals proved more resistant, the coyotes, one of the bobcats and two big dogs—a Rottweiler and a Doberman.
Declan caught Stacia’s eye and pointed at the big canines. “Pull!” he shouted.
With a grin, she raised the little shotgun and began to shoot the animals with salt and herb rounds. Fire, fire—pump, fire, fire—pump. The range of the shells was very short, but the animals’ own aggression made that a moot point. The Doberman went down first, followed by the Rottweiler and one of the coyotes. The other remaining coyote and the bobcat simply dissolved under the concentrated weapons fire that the now-unencumbered combat team sent their way.
There were more furry bodies, but they had stopped at
the edge of the furthest spray of salt, waiting.
“You’re O’Carroll and Reynolds,” the team leader stated. His nametag read Hollis.
“Yes, Agent Hollis, and you need us. You’re barely in the foyer and look how much ammo you’ve expended, not to mention the amulets,” Declan said.
“Agent Adler said the amulets would protect us?” the tough-looking leader asked, eyes hard.
“For one or two threats, then they’re gone—used up. You’re facing an enemy you haven’t trained or equipped for,” Declan said, pointing at the waiting horde of animals. “Some handfuls of blessed salt took most of these down, and a smudge bath of the right burning herbs would have driven off those earlier spirits you encountered.”
“Agent Adler commands you to return to the C3 van,” Hollis said, one hand holding his earplug.
