INCURSION: Faeblade (Knight's Bane Trilogy Book 2)

by Bryan Donihue

  As she felt her heart rate slow again, Boomer opened her eyes and found herself staring into her team leader's eyes. He saw her calm expression and raised one eyebrow. She gave an impish grin and assured him, "I'm all right, bossman. It's under control."

  Ghost looked at his demolitions expert and said, "I know. Lets try to keep it that way. This is your first mission since...your change. Let's put all that training to use." Boomer nodded and gave a pensive smile. Ghost looked past her and spoke to the woman standing behind Boomer, "How about you, Doc? You ready for this?"

  A slightly older woman stood next to Boomer, not quite leaning against the grungy brick wall. The middle-aged woman's brown hair was wound up in a tight bun, leaving her round face and gray eyes clear. A priest's stole and vestments draped over her shoulders, set off against the dark gray business suit with the black shirt and high white collar of a Catholic priest.

  Noelle "Doc" Sorenson gripped the ornate silver and wood cross in her hands. Her face a mask of determination, she nodded at the team leader. Her voice was low and even, held tightly in check against the fear she was feeling, "I'm ready, Ghost. We need to end this before too many of these kids get hurt."

  Ghost turned to look back out the end of the alley. As he did so, his earpiece crackled. "Bravo Team in position and standing by." Ghost watched as the trio of creatures walked through the front doors of the warehouse. His earpiece crackled again as Little G spoke up, "Overwatch is standing by." A brief pause and his earpiece spoke for the final time with Spooky's voice, "Eyes and Ears ready, bossman. Satellite is overhead for fifteen minutes. After that I lose coverage."

  He reached up and touched his throat mic, "Alpha Team in position and standing by. Spooky, any sign of Heavy?"

  The electronics specialist's voice crackled in his ear agin, "Negative boss. No sign of... Wait one. Yes. I've got him. He's, uh, actively engaged in his cover." In the darkened War Wagon, Spooky watched a very large African American man in a sleeveless t-shirt and BDU pants dance surrounded by a bevy of younger women gyrating to the music.

  Ghost's hand tightened on the cloth-wrapped bundle he was holding. Inside the wrappings were two large curved blades called khukuris. These were Heavy's weapons, and he would need them once the team leader "rescued" his wayward team member from his reconnaissance job inside the rave. The DHS leader activated his throat mic, "Ghost to Knightmare. Sixty seconds."

  In the alleyway behind the target warehouse, two figures hidden in shadows glanced at each other and prepared to go through the back door. The figure in the lead was the epitome of the clean-cut all-American country boy from the Midwest. His blond hair was cut into a military-style crew cut, and his features bespoke his youth. That youth did not reach his eyes as a closer look would reveal an age and a pain that belied his years. Christian "Do-Right" Folsom wore black fatigues and armor that fit well over his athletic build and proclaimed "POLICE" in block letters across his back.

  Do-Right tightened his grip on the stubby submachine gun cradled in his hands. The short MP5K-PDW was just over eighteen inches long, and capable of firing 9mm rounds in short bursts or full auto through the attached suppressor. As he waited for the remaining countdown, the former deputy sheriff flipped the selector switch from "SAFE" to "BURST" with practiced ease. Do-Right kept the muzzle of the stubby sub-gun pointed at the pavement as he raised the stock to his shoulders. Waiting for the "go" signal, the young agent thought about how he got there.

  Christian Folsom grew up in a small town called Trinidad, about two hours south of Denver, Colorado. He was a local high school football star, and spent his whole life in the Trinidad area. After high school, he got married and went through a string of jobs from factory work to EMT, looking for his future career.

  He eventually got his law enforcement academy certification and applied with the sheriff's department in his home county. He was a rookie, just seven months out of training when a group of vampires descended on his town, quickly followed by the team from Section 28. Monsters created by those vampires killed his wife and two young children, driving him to despair and a hunger for revenge.

  When the team realized that Christian was going to follow them, whether or not he was invited, he was quickly drafted, and eventually proved to be a valuable asset when killing monsters. With nothing to go back home for, Christian welcomed the opportunity to join the team. His classic boyish charm and naivete earned him the nickname "Do-Right," which became permanent when he was officially sworn in. Now he was standing at the back door to a warehouse, getting ready to once again confront vampires.

  The young man standing behind Do-Right swallowed nervously and drew his pistol from the holster rig attached to his thigh. Dressed in the same black combat fatigues and heavy outer armor, the tall young man was visibly tense. His raven-black hair was pulled into a loose ponytail, accentuating his sharp, chiseled features and Indian heritage.

  William "Scout" Buckhorn gripped the pistol with a strong, two-handed hold. The Beretta M9 was a large black semi-automatic that also had a fat black suppressor attached to the end of the barrel. Anticipating a crowd of young people inside, the former camp counselor had left his ancestral bow slung across his back. For the entry, he knew he could ready it quickly if he needed a long shot, but the cramped quarters dictated that the pistol and the large blessed hunting knife strapped to his hip would be better for the conditions. He inhaled and exhaled rhythmically, letting the breathing calm his thoughts and heart rate.

  Across the road, Ghost mentally counted down the time, waiting until the last second to key his mic again, "Ghost to Spooky, tell the locals to move in. Ghost to Knightmare. Three. Two. One. Execute! Execute! Execute!"

  On the last "Execute," Ghost leapt out of the alleyway, running across the wide abandoned street and up to the front door of the warehouse. Behind him, he could hear the pounding footsteps of his two fellow agents as they tried to keep up with their leader. His coat billowing behind him, he hit the sidewalk with a thump and slammed into the front door of the warehouse as it was being hastily closed. Crashing through the doorway, he dimly recognized the sirens in the streets outside as the local police department descended on the warehouse.

  As their team leader crashed through the closing door, Boomer and Doc followed closely. There was a pair of large men, bouncers, who were trying to stop Ghost as he moved down the short hallway that led to the entrance. Ghost held his credentials up and announced loudly, "Homeland Security. Step aside. Now!" That last came out in a sort of growl.

  The two men looked at each other and, as if they had rehearsed it, both took a step forward and swung a punch at the lead DHS agent. Ghost sidestepped both attacks as one and threw two quick rabbit punches into the side of the first bouncer. As the man doubled over in pain, the federal agent pivoted, whipping a backhand strike against the bridge of the other bouncer's nose. Blood spurted from the man's nose as he howled in agony.

  Ghost completed his spin and put his knee and thigh squarely into the face of the bent-over bouncer. The federal agent felt the bones of the man's nose crunch as the bouncer hurled backward and collapsed on the floor of the hallway out of the fight. The second bouncer was just now bringing his hands down from his face, and Ghost could see rage behind the bloody visage. Just as the bouncer reared back to throw another punch, the monster hunter planted his right leather cowboy boot squarely between the man's spread legs. The bouncer clutched his ruined manhood and dropped as if poleaxed where he lay retching on the floor.

  A faint rattle and thrum shook the doors that the bouncers were guarding. Ghost laid one hand on the door and could feel the energy and music pulsing through the solid metal door. He reached up and keyed his mic, "Alpha Team is in position. Bravo Team—Execute!"

  At the back loading doors of the warehouse, Do-Right had already set a small, specially prepared block of plastic explosives on the seam between the double doors, right where the locking mechanism would be. He and Scout leaned back and shielded their eyes when Ghost
had given them the second signal. Do-Right pushed a button on a small transmitter that Boomer had given him with the explosives, and there was a loud "pop" and the doors shook and jarred open, leaving a gap of several inches between them.

  The former deputy grabbed a door and held it open for his partner as Scout rushed in, looking up and down the long hallway that ran along the back of the warehouse. Scout led the way to the right and Do-Right followed, dimly noticing the sirens and lights that were starting to fill the alleyway they were in. The two federal agents moved deeper into the bowels of the building, feeling the bass line through the soles of their boots.

  2

  SPARKLES

  INDUSTRIAL PARK, NEWPORT NEWS, VIRGINIA

  As Bravo blew the locks off the back loading doors and entered the building, Ghost opened the door and felt the wall of driving bass and noise cascade over him. The cacophony of sound and light exploded into his senses, and he paused to catch his bearings.

  Shaking his head slightly in a visible effort to clear the cobwebs from his mind, he turned and looked at his two teammates. They had both paused upon being blasted by the noise and lights. They both quickly recovered and Boomer gave him a thumbs up to show she was ready.

  He glanced back around and got his bearings. He touched his throat mic to transmit, "Spooky, this is Ghost. Where is Heavy?"

  There was a momentary pause, and then the thin voice of his electronics specialist echoed in his earpiece over the din of noise. "Twenty degrees to your left." Spooky explained, "About fifty feet away. He's surrounded by a gaggle of girls. You can't miss him."

  Ghost grunted a quick, "Copy," and motioned for Boomer and Doc to follow him. He set off through the mass of young people as they jumped and gyrated to the driving beat of the music. Glow sticks and drinks were tossed about casually, and each dancer had at least one of each in their grasp. Ghost pushed his way through the horde of horny teens and coeds.

  Boomer had trouble keeping up with her boss, resorting to using the stock of the shotgun to club people out of the way with judicious jabs to the kidney or spleen. Doc followed in her wake, staring around her in wonder at the sea of humanity.

  When Ghost reached the group of young women gathered around his heavy weapons specialist, he elbowed his way through the crowd of coeds, not caring who he jostled, or how hard they were hit. As he cleared the last ring of girls, he found that he was staring at the back of a massive bulk of a man, well over six feet tall, and gyrating to the heavy bass beat.

  Stepping to the side of the mountain of muscle, Ghost realized that Arthur "Heavy" Murphy had his eyes closed as he danced and moved to the music, a look of sheer bliss on his face. Smiling cruelly, he reached up and slapped the giant on the back of the shoulder, hard enough to hear the slap over the music. The large man was startled out of his reverie and looked around wildly until his eyes met his team leader's.

  A big sheepish grin flared across his face, and the man turned to the girl who was his dance partner. He leaned over close to the girl and spoke in her ear. Her smile turned into a frown, then into a pout as he lightly slapped her on the butt to move her along with her friends.

  The heavy weapons specialist turned back to Ghost and rumbled, "Sorry, boss. I forgot where I was for a moment. Did you bring my blades?"

  The lead DHS agent wordlessly handed the wrapped bundle over to his gunner. Heavy could read his Ghost's face—the big man would hear about this later.

  The big man stood over six-and-a-half feet tall and looked like the bodybuilder he was. Thick, muscular arms emerged from the black sleeveless t-shirt, and barely contained his massive chest. He slipped a harness over his head, placing two large khukuri blades on his back in crossed scabbards. After securing the blade harness, he then strapped a holster equipped with a Beretta M9 to his thigh, securing it over the black combat BDU pants he wore. As he stood up again, he finished strapping the microphone around his throat and placed the earpiece in his right ear. The lights glinted off of his bald head as he completed the transformation from popular raver to elite federal agent.

  Heavy straightened, waved for the team to follow him, and moved across the dance floor toward the back of the building. His wide bulk and ominous presence cleared the path in front of him, and the rest of the team followed in his wake. He angled left, walking toward a nondescript door on an inner wall marked "Private."

  As they approached the door, the crowd thinned out, and the din from the rave was muted to a dull roar when they moved out of the direct line of the massive speaker banks. The team approached the door and Ghost activated his microphone, "Alpha at stage two. Holding for Bravo."

  Raised in a long line of monster hunters, Jonas "Ghost" Vanhof trained from an early age to track down and kill creatures that bled through into reality. Jonas was very good at what he did. With few resources and a cobbled-together intelligence network made of paid informants and conspiracy theorists, he had hunted monsters that threatened humanity for years.

  One fateful night, Jonas had made a mistake when he was hunting a werewolf, and had traced the beast back to its house. There the beast had changed and attacked its wife. Instead of leaving at the commotion, Jonas had barged in and fought the beast, eventually killing both the beast and his wife, who was also infected. He had been too slow, and the police had shown up before he could escape.

  Agent Smith had found the monster hunter in jail, waiting trial for a vicious double murder. Smith had offered him a simple choice—join this secret government agency and fight monsters with government funding, or die by lethal injection. Jonas had truly been given a new lease on life, and his shadowy background earned him the call sign "Ghost." Now he led the team called Knightmare, and the burden of that mantle weighed heavily on him.

  In the corridor along the back wall of the warehouse, Do-Right and Scout crept down a dimly lit hallway. The two men approached their target, an unmarked door at the end of the corridor. According to their intelligence, this door was the main staging area for all the sound and lighting equipment. They had encountered no resistance thus far, but they were prepared for that to change when they went through the office door.

  Do-Right keyed his microphone. "Bravo team at stage two." The former deputy spoke in a low voice, "Holding for Ingress."

  Just before Ghost responded with the "go" command, the DHS leader's earpiece crackled again and Spooky's voice came through, "Spooky to Ghost. The locals are ready to storm the rave. Holding for your command."

  Ghost nodded to Heavy, who was ready to kick down the door. The giant gave him a big thumbs up, and the DHS leader keyed his mic again.

  "Ghost to Knightmare. Stage two — execute."

  Heavy reared back his booted foot and slammed it into the door in front of him, landing the blow right next to the knob. The cheap wooden door splintered where his boot landed, and the door crashed inwards. The large man stepped back out of the way as Ghost stepped through the doorway.

  Inside the room, pandemonium was reigning. Ghost saw six or eight people scattered around the room, most of them starting to panic as the team followed him through the doorway. Two of the people cowered at the sight of Doc as she walked through the opening, baring suddenly visible fangs and hissing. Ghost smiled and keyed his mic, "Looks like intel was correct — we have type-two vampires. Bravo, begin Ingress."

  One of the now hissing creatures leapt at Ghost, hands outstretched as razor-sharp claws swiftly extended from the tips of its fingers. Ghost raised a beautiful cane between his hands and waited for the exact moment. Just before the claws reached his throat, he sidestepped, driving the cane up underneath the creature's upper arms and redirecting the creature's momentum away from himself, and into the wall behind him. The creature dove face first into the wall, punching a hole in the drywall and crashing to the floor in a heap.

  Before the creature could recover, the DHS leader twisted the head of his cane slightly, and drew a rapier-like blade from the haft. As it cleared the haft, the lettering on the anc
ient blade began to glow, soon enveloping the blade with white light. Ghost pivoted and slashed the blade across the creature, cleanly severing the neck and causing the head to drop to the ground. The team leader noticed the body of the creature begin to dissolve as he turned to the rest of the room.

  As Doc entered the room, her vestments glowed a radiant blue, alerting her to the presence of evil undead. Spotting a creature that was cowering away from her, she began chanting and held her cross up toward the creature as she walked over to it. The closer the priest got, the lower the creature seemed to cower, until it was prostrated on the floor, whimpering in pain and fear.

  Noelle "Doc" Sorenson had grown up in Grand Rapids, Michigan, but had attended Notre Dame for Pre-Med, where she was also introduced to the Catholic Church. She had graduated Harvard Medical School with honors and had begun working at Catholic-run clinics in the inner cities. Wishing to give more, she had soon joined with Doctors Without Borders. There she had excelled in trauma care and had even helped with animal attack wounds.

  Her excellent work had brought her to the attention of the Vatican, which had recruited her into a special, secret priesthood dedicated to fighting monsters. After her training and ordination as one of only three female priests in the Catholic Church, she had been assigned as a Vatican representative to Section 28, where she had found a home on team Knightmare. Her first mission killing vampires had been a rousing success, and she has made a permanent home for herself on the team.

  Finishing her incantation while staring down a creature of the night, the priest from the Vatican waved her hand with a flourish, and the creature screamed in agony. Knowing this creature was held down with supernatural force, Doc pulled the sheath off of the blade built into the base of her ornate cross. The blade glinted in the light, and she struck down with all her might, driving the blessed silver blade into the brainpan of the creature. The scream abruptly stopped, and the creature twitched and went still. The wound in the head belched smoke, and the body began to fade away.