House of Wolves: (A Paranormal Urban Fantasy) (The Vampire Project Book 1)

by Jonathan Yanez

  There were impressed looks around the room as all eyes turned to Sloan and her peculiar sword.

  “Well, I read the directions front to back twice. It’s a heated saber. The handle carries a small amount of renewable mage technology. With the flick of this switch by my thumb, the blade is supposed to heat to an unnatural degree, giving it the ability to slice through almost any object.”

  “Mage gloves, heated sabers, and wands that can extend to staffs. What will surprise us next?” Marcus asked.

  As if on cue, the locomotive began to slow.

  “Did we already reach the end of the track?” Jack looked at a worried Sloan.

  “No, I don’t think that’s it. We should have had enough track to get us to the first city or close to it. My guess was that we would arrive after the sun set. Something’s wrong.”

  Jack

  Sloan walked to the front of the cart. She pounded a gloved fist on the door leading to the engine. The door immediately opened. A short man with white hair and a white mustache peered out.

  “Nemo, why are we slowing down? Have we arrived?”

  “Oh, no, ma’am,” the small man blinked through spectacles that magnified his eyes to an unnatural degree. “There’s something you ought to see.”

  Intrigued, Jack followed Sloan and Nemo, with Aareth and Marcus close behind.

  The locomotive was nearly at a stand still when they entered the inside of the mage engine. It was a small room with a seat for Nemo and windows that opened in every direction. Black was the primary color decorating the interior with a few brown handles and whistles.

  Jack caught sight of a huge furnace with a lever nearby that opened a container suspended above the fire. The large container held a mass of swirling red magic.

  “See, ma’am? I didn’t want to run them over. They haven’t said anything yet and, well, what are they riding?”

  Jack stopped examining the inside of the mage engine. He craned his neck to see what Nemo was talking about. Just thirty yards from where the locomotive stopped there were a dozen or more figures dressed in black.

  Each figure was sitting on top of what looked like a large bicycle. The thing that separated the machines the strangers sat on from any Jack had ever seen was the red plumes of smoke coming from large pipes under the contraptions. The machines grunted and hummed with dangerous intentions.

  They were too far away to make out any distinguishable traits about the men who sat in their path, still Jack had a feeling the men hadn’t come to share a meal.

  “Run them over,” Aareth said through clenched teeth. “Kill them, now.”

  “What?” Marcus gave Aareth a disapproving stare. “You don’t even know who they are or what they want.”

  “Old man, they’re not here for social hour. You can trust me on that.”

  “You do know who they are,” Jack let his hand drop to the wand at his side. “Don’t you Aareth?”

  “While I was working in the Outland, I passed through villages that have been destroyed. Decimated towns whose survivors told stories of men on steel horses. I’ve never seen them myself, but what else could they be? Keep going and don’t stop this locomotive, no matter what.”

  Let me at least talk to them.” Marcus wasn’t ready to give in to violence just yet. “We owe them that much before we try to run them over. I mean—”

  Jack heard the shot and saw the glass shatter at the same moment. He hit the ground hard as small shards rained around the room. More bullets followed and pelted the steel engine like steel raindrops.

  Aareth was the only one who hadn’t ducked for cover when the shooting started. He stood tall and straight, winding the gears on his gauntlets.

  “With all due respect, sorcerer, you were wrong.”

  “Nemo,” Sloan shot to her feet and flipped the switch on her sword with her thumb. “Full ahead and do not stop, no matter what. Your one and only job is to keep this machine moving forward. Understood?”

  The little man gave her a half salute and jumped in his chair, pulling brown handles and pushing large levers. The locomotive began to slowly move forward.

  Jack was on his feet, his wand out already wrapped in green flame. His eyes went wide as he saw a wall of attackers charging forward on steel horses.

  Bullets shattered the stillness as loud cracks marked their exits from smoking guns. Bullet after bullet buried itself into the metal casing protecting the mage powered engine.

  The men on the metal bikes were swarming around the locomotive. Jack stuck a head out to see a handful of the men jump from their mage bikes onto the train itself. The dark figures pulled themselves on top of the roof and out of sight.

  “Sloan!” Jack searched for the captain. “We have a problem.”

  “I see them.” Sloan shouted over the noise in the engine room. “Jack, Aareth, get them off the roof. Marcus and I will stay here and keep them from destroying the engine.”

  Jack moved to follow Aareth.

  “Careful, son.” Marcus caught the underside of his arm before he left. “This isn’t going to be like killing shadow spirits.”

  Jack nodded and his father released his arm. Aareth was already gone as Jack holstered his wand and prepared to go outside and ascend the roof.

  Jack

  The locomotive picked up speed. It was now moving at the pace of a sprinting horse. Jack felt air rush around his body at treacherous speeds. He gripped the metal exterior of the locomotive’s lead cart with all his might. His fingerless brown gloves pressed against the cold steel. Slowly Jack placed one hand in front of the other.

  Easy, you can do this. One foot at a time. Slow and steady, this isn’t a race.

  It was while Jack was giving himself this internal pep talk that he neglected to remember the steel, mage-powered bicycles roaring around him. A bullet buried itself in steel a few inches from his head. Jack lost his footing and hung from the small ledge by his fingertips. Jack knew he had only seconds before he fell. It was funny actually, the things you think about before you’re going to die.

  This is it. You’re going to fall and probably get run over by this huge piece of magical technology. You didn’t even get to use your new wand.

  Jack’s fingers slipped. As he began to fall toward the rotating wheels, he felt a strong hand grab his own. The next second he was vaulting up through the air. He landed next to Aareth on top of the locomotive.

  “Easy there, Jack.” Aareth’s voice was calm. “This fight’s just getting started. Can’t have you falling to your death just yet.”

  Jack tried to grin but his whole body was shaking. He looked up to see four figures running at them from the opposite side of the locomotive. More men were jumping from their mage-powered bicycles onto the moving locomotive. As the first wave of attackers came closer, Jack was able to get a better look at his adversaries.

  They were all tall men and women dressed from head to toe in black. Long trench coats streamed behind them and black masks covered their faces from the ridge of their noses down. Steel flashed in all of their gloved hands. They carried sabers that looked alarmingly similar to the one Sloan used to threaten Aareth in front of the queen.

  They charged forward. Before Jack could get his balance and stand on the moving locomotive, Aareth sprinted forward. His hands were blazing with the blue lines of magical matter that coursed over his gloves.

  The first saber came down on Aareth in a high arc. Aareth caught the blade easily in his right gauntleted hand. There was a loud snap and the man carrying the sword was thrown off the top of the train with the force equivalent of a lightning strike.

  The remaining three attackers paused for a moment as they lifted their own weapons at various angles. Every muscle in their body told them to strike, but after seeing what happened to their friend, they were taking a moment to gain their bearings.

  Aareth didn’t need a moment. With each fist landed there was another loud cracking noise and figures dressed in black flew off the moving machine at ala
rming speeds.

  All four assailants were dealt with within the space of a few seconds. Aareth looked back at Jack with a devilish grin. Jack heard shots ring out from somewhere inside the carts underneath him. Fear for his father’s safety made him glance down. An unfamiliar voice made him look up just as quickly.

  A new enemy made himself known. He had climbed on top of the locomotive from somewhere inside a cart. He now stood in between Jack and Aareth. “Interesting gloves. What do you do when the mage charge runs out?”

  Jack looked to Aareth’s hands, and sure enough, the stored power had dissolved.

  The stranger held a large gun the likes of which Jack had never seen. He quickly threw it to the side and off the locomotive.

  “I don’t think I’ll be needing this for The Ghost and a kid. Let’s make this interesting, shall we?”

  Jack drew his wand. He pointed it at the man’s back. He had never killed an actual person before and there was an internal struggle now about the moral issue of shooting a man in the back. Not to mention a man that was unarmed.

  “Jack, blast him!” Aareth yelled from two carts down. “Don’t hesitate. Kill him!”

  “I have no weapons.” The stranger turned. He pulled the hood on his jacket over his head before removing his mask. He raised his hands to prove his statement. “I think you know the right thing to do, son.”

  “Kill him, Jack!” Aareth yelled again. From behind the man, Jack could see Aareth crouched, winding the gears that stored the mage power in his gloves.

  The man was only a few feet from Jack now. He was as muscular as Aareth and nearly as tall. A scar ran down the right side of his pale face from temple to cheekbone.

  “That’s an honorable boy.” He grinned showing off pearly white teeth. His upper canines too long to be passed off as normal. “But you should have listened to The Ghost. This isn’t going to go well for you.”

  Before Jack could react, the scarred man sent out a wide left kick that knocked the wand from his hand. The pain in his palm sent a tingling shock all the way up his arm. The man turned in a complete circle and struck out with his opposite foot. The power that collided with Jack’s chest was bone breaking. Jack flew through the air and landed on his back with a heavy crash. Before he could gain his feet, the man was on top of him with a heavy boot at his throat.

  “You really should have shot me, kid. Ghost was right.”

  Jack pushed with both hands on the man’s boot. Air was coming in short gasps as every ounce of his strength went to pushing the man off. Jack knew he would have died there and then if it hadn’t been for Aareth.

  The man with the scar quickly turned as the sound of running feet met both their ears. Aareth’s gloved hands were alive with the crackling magic. Aareth swung powerful arms just as before, but this time every punch missed.

  The pale man was faster than anything Jack had ever seen, human or animal. The man was even grinning as he ducked and weaved around Aareth’s punches.

  “You should never have stayed in New Hope,” the man said as he caught both of Aareth’s forearms just under the gloves.

  “I think I’ll keep what little soul I have left,” Aareth grunted as he was forced to his knees.

  The man bent the magical gloves towards Aareth. Inch by inch, he forced Aareth’s hands closer to his own face.

  Jack watched all of this happen as he regained his breath and stood. He had never killed a man before and he didn’t know if he wanted to start now, but he also knew he couldn’t let Aareth die.

  Wand gone, he willed the magic inside him to take physical form in his hands. It took an extreme amount of energy and concentration to create the blades he held now. Twin knives, four inches long dancing with the green flames of magic.

  Whether it was the wind, Jack’s ability to stalk quietly, or luck, the scarred man didn’t hear him coming. Green knives gripped tightly in both hands, Jack launched himself through the air and landed on the man’s back, planting both knives deep into his flesh just under his shoulder blades.

  The man screamed in pain with a noise that would have made even a dying animal sound pleasant. The attacker loosened his grip on Aareth’s arms. Aareth seized the opportunity to plant both gauntlets on the man’s chest.

  First Jack felt a burning pain as the electric current ran through all three men. Then he felt nothing but blackness as he was rocketed into the air, off the locomotive, and down to the harsh desert floor below.

  Sloan

  Sloan saw more and more of the dark cloaked riders jump from what looked like mage-powered bicycles, to the moving locomotive. “Lock the door behind us, Nemo, and don’t let anyone in unless it’s me.”

  The tiny locomotive operator nodded, trying to hide the fear that plainly showed on his face.

  “Marcus, we have to clear out the inside of the carts. I know you’re used to using magic to track and kill the paranormal, but can you fight?”

  “I can if,” Marcus’ eyes narrowed. “If I have to.”

  “Well, then follow me. I think you’re going to find yourself in a situation that qualifies as you having to very soon.”

  Sloan gripped her new sword tightly in her left hand. She walked to the back of the lead cart and opened the door cautiously. Men were pouring into the interior of the locomotive through broken windows. Sloan counted seven all together. They were all carrying military issued rifles and sabers at their sides.

  “There are seven of them,” Sloan whispered as she peeked through the crack in the door. “I’ll make them miss and then we have to be on top of them before they have a chance to reload.”

  “You can count on me, Captain, but how do you plan on getting all of them to fire at you and miss?”

  Sloan smiled to herself as she opened the door wide.

  “In the name of the Queen,” Sloan commanded in a strong voice, “surrender your arms!”

  Just as quickly as the words left her lips, seven rifles were pointed in her direction and fired. Sloan slammed the door shut. The bullets collided with the dark steel door.

  “Like that. Let’s go.”

  Sloan opened the door and ran forward in a crouched position. Her left thumb flicked the small switch on her saber’s handle. She felt a slight vibration as her blade began to hum.

  The small quarters would work in her advantage and there were only seven. She had faced worse odds before. She was on top of the attackers in seconds as they first fumbled to reload their rifles, then reached for their own swords.

  Sloan’s blade cut through her opponents’ steel like butter. With a left, right, and forward slash, three men were already down. Sloan almost felt sorry for them as the remaining four pointed their weapons in her direction, trying to figure out how her sword managed to slice through solid steel.

  One of the men in the rear raised a pistol he had hidden in his black coat. In the aisle-like passage of the cart, there was nowhere for Sloan to turn. He grinned through his mask and aimed, but the shot never came. Instead, a bolt of green magic stuck him in the face. He fell howling in pain, clawing at his burning skin.

  Sloan chanced a look behind her. She saw Marcus with his staff ablaze in green light.

  The remaining three would-be attackers were shifting nervously. They had obviously been confident in their superior numbers. Now whittled down to three in a matter of seconds, the game had changed.

  “Surrender now,” Sloan took another step forward, “and you will be tried at a court in New Hope. You don’t have to die today.”

  Two of the men looked towards one, clearly asking their leader for direction. Sloan eased closer, brushing a long blonde strand from her cheek.

  The leader gave a slight shake of his head and Sloan knew the fight would be finished here. All three men charged at once. Sloan cut through the first man’s sword and jugular in one quick motion, but the next man was smarter. At the last possible moment, he dropped his sword and used both hands to cover her own on the grip of the mage sword.

  They
struggled together for a second. The man’s larger weight pushed her back. Out of the corner of her eye, Sloan saw the last man charge toward Marcus.

  Sloan learned from an early age that her size wasn’t a disadvantage. She became a master at going with force and redirecting the action. It was a skill that saved her in a fight more times than she cared to remember.

  As the large man muscled her backwards, she dropped to the floor with her left foot in the man’s stomach. Her attacker went sailing over her head and straight through the window.

  Sloan recovered in a crouch. The fight was over. The last man who charged Marcus was on the ground in a puddle of his own blood, a smoking hole where his chest used to be.

  “Sorcerer, are you injured?”

  “I’m as well as can be expected,” Marcus looked down at the corpse. “I just ended two men’s lives.”

  “Two men who would have ended yours if you did nothing.”

  Marcus was about to respond when they felt the locomotive shake and wobble. Before the fight began, Sloan ordered Nemo to go faster and not to stop under any circumstance. Sloan glanced out one of the broken windows. The terrain outside was flying past at a speed Sloan couldn’t comprehend. She got to her feet, running past Marcus, and tried the handle of the steel door that led to the engine cart. It was locked from the inside.

  “Nemo! Nemo!” Sloan pounded on the steel. “It’s Sloan! Slow down! Open the door!”

  A few tense seconds passed. The only response to Sloan’s shouts were another shudder as the locomotive continued to gain speed.

  “Nemo! Open the door!”

  Still nothing.

  Sloan set her jaw and raised the sword in both hands. With a grunt, she slammed the sword, blade first, into the portion of the door where the bolt was located.

  Slowly her blade sunk through the hard metal. Muscles tensing, Sloan grunted as she pushed in an upward motion, cutting the bolt that held the door closed. The metal door banged open.