“I wonder if Blaine made it back,” Terry said, trying to make small talk, but Char wasn’t having it. She kept her thoughts to herself as they rode toward town.
When they got close, she sat up straight and stared into the distance. “We have a problem,” she groaned.
* * *
Marcus listened quietly, killing time. The more Billy talked, the more Marcus wanted to eat the little man’s heart. But then he felt the spark. He closed his eyes and reached out.
Char had returned.
Marcus didn’t waste time with pleasantries. He stood up and walked out, leaving Billy speechless and frozen, but only for a moment.
The mayor bolted out the back door of his office, heading straight for the armory. He unlocked it and pulled his trusty rifle, the AK-74, the one that could fire the NATO rounds. He checked the magazine to ensure it was loaded, then inserted it, front first, rotating it toward the back until it seated. He pulled the bolt back, then let it go to send a round into the chamber.
Carrying the rifle before him, he walked carefully to the front door, which hung open after Marcus’s hasty departure. Felicity was descending the stairs. “Get back upstairs and lock the door!” he shouted.
Felicity felt a strange sensation. Billy was going to protect her from the big man, put his small body between Marcus and her. She held her head proudly as she ran back up the stairs, into the bedroom, and locked the door behind her. She continued to the window and looked out.
Marcus stood at the street corner, looking north toward the power plant.
Billy stood on the steps below, rifle ready but not aimed. Marcus seemed oblivious to him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“Your mate?” Terry’s lip curled as he said the words. Char nodded without looking in his direction. When Char moved in under Margie Rose’s roof with Terry, he had taken a silver coin, melted it, and dripped the silver onto one of his knives. It was the only thing he had to defend himself from a Werewolf.
He could see Char’s color change to a shade of red as the anger grew within. The horses walked at a steady pace, past the power plant and toward Billy’s house.
When they spotted Marcus, Char growled, feral, bestial.
“You gotta be shitting me,” Terry blurted as he saw the immense man who stood waiting for them, arms at his side, fists clenched. “Fuck me.”
Clyde brayed and barked
Char didn’t say anything, but stopped her horse when they were still twenty feet away. Terry felt that he sat almost eye-to-eye with the Werewolf alpha, even though he was sitting on a horse.
The bigger they are… he thought, trying to console himself. It wasn’t working. Once past the initial intimidation, Terry studied the man, clinically. He had to have weaknesses.
Everyone did, even Werewolves.
“Why don’t you come closer, give us a kiss, honey,” Marcus said, watching the human at her side. He could sense something different about that one, but couldn’t put his finger on it. Terry glared back at the big man, letting adrenaline surge into his body as it prepared itself to fight the enemy.
No one had to be an expert in body language to read Char’s abject hatred for the creature before her.
They stood looking at each other before Marcus turned his attention toward the security chief. The Werewolf strolled forward with his hands up. Terry continued to cradle his M4 combat rifle.
Marcus thrust out a massive paw. Terry was torn, but with his left hand on the trigger, Terry grabbed the man’s hand, a mistake he quickly learned. Marcus was the alpha and unable to do anything other than establish dominance. Terry Henry Walton was a challenger who needed to be put in his place.
Marcus brought his full power to bear in an effort to crush the human’s hand. Terry fought back, gritting his teeth with his effort. The nanocytes surged into the muscles of his arm. The two achieved a minor stalemate, but that didn’t last long. Terry felt his hand getting squeezed beyond his capacity to stop it.
Char leapt from her horse, moved behind Marcus in a flash, and punched him in the kidney with everything she had. He let go and turned, crouching.
Terry aimed his rifle one handed. He couldn’t miss such a large target at this close of a range. He flexed his numb right hand until he was able to pull his silvered blade. Terry Henry Walton prepared himself to dive from the horse.
Char snarled, hands up, dancing like a boxer ready to wade into the middle of the ring.
Marcus recognized the challenge, but now was not the time. He stood up and held his hands out in front of himself.
“I apologize. Sometimes I get overzealous with my size. I hope that I didn’t hurt you,” Marcus said, looking at Terry.
Terry Henry Walton couldn’t miss the opportunity to get in a jab. He turned and looked behind himself, then pointed at his own chest. “What, me? You think you hurt me? I was going to apologize to you,” he countered. “You are okay, aren’t you?”
Marcus rolled his eyes. Char put her hands on her hips and glared.
“What are you doing here?” she asked sharply, accusingly.
“Just coming to pick up the love of my life so we can be on our way. So, come along now, time to go.” He didn’t give her any choice. She crossed her arms and stood defiantly.
“I’m not quite ready yet. You go along. I’ll catch up later,” she replied.
Marcus’s forced smile disappeared. “I think you’re ready now.”
“No. And that’s all I’m going to take from you. Why don’t you go fuck yourself,” she snapped.
“I think it’s going to snow,” Terry said as he eased his horse between the two Werewolves. “How about we go inside and talk about this like adults. This bear isn’t getting cooked while it sits on the back of these horses. Maybe you can help carry this haunch inside, big man. I’d be grateful for the help.”
“Why don’t you curl yourself into a little frightened ball so I can kick your ass out of this conversation.” Marcus showed his teeth as he glowered at Terry.
“I think Charumati told you to move on, so why don’t you do just that. Just because we don’t want a fight doesn’t mean we won’t.” Terry rotated his knife blade so a glint of silver flashed into the alpha’s eyes.
Billy Spires had moved to the far side of the road, giving himself a clear line of fire to the newcomer. Billy aimed and held steady, then dropped to a knee as the posturing continued.
“Fuck off, asslick,” Marcus growled.
A weakness, Terry told himself. Maybe it’s not the best tactic to drive a Werewolf into a rage. Nice wolfie…
“Why don’t you fuck off?” Char countered, stepping beyond the horse, who had started prancing while being so close to two angry Werewolves. Terry dismounted, stepped aside, and slapped the horse, making it run, not far, but far enough.
Terry angled away, surrounding Marcus. The alpha looked from one of his adversaries to the other, his yellow eyes fixing on Terry’s silver blade. He wondered if the strange human knew he and Char were Werewolves.
He had to. Who else carried a silver weapon? Marcus sniffed toward Terry, sure that the human wasn’t of the Were world, but he was different. His hand should have been crushed under Marcus’s great strength.
It wasn’t. Char was right, damn the bitch. It wasn’t the time.
“This isn’t over,” he said as he straightened and slowly backed out of the circle. He turned and headed down the road toward the mountains, jogging at first, but then running, faster and faster until he hit Were speed and disappeared. Clyde ran after him for a short way, barking his dismay, but Terry called the dog back.
Char and Terry looked at each other knowingly, while Billy remained on the outside looking in.
“What the fuck was that all about? Who in God’s creation is that cockwad?” Billy asked, flustered and still aiming his rifle at the road Marcus had taken on his way from town.
“That cockwad is my ex-husband, and you can believe that he will be back. He doesn’t like to lose…a
t anything.” She remained motionless, looking toward the hills.
“Bear? It’ll be good it if doesn’t rot from all of us just standing here, not processing it. A little help?” Terry asked as he started to untie the carcass. Blood ran down the backs of both horses.
Terry pulled the two rifles from where he’d stuffed them between the saddle and the bear. Handing the rifles to Billy, he decided that Billy didn’t need to know anything else.
Felicity finally joined the group. “Well, my dear, I see why he is your ex. That is one angry man, an angry and very large man. A shame that his ego is so fragile that he has to control you. I really feel sorry for you, Char,” Felicity purred.
Char looked the smaller woman over. “If you only knew,” she replied as she grabbed the bear haunch and hoisted it over a shoulder, carrying it by herself toward the back door to the kitchen. Terry accepted the challenge and took the other, grunting under the weight as he staggered through Billy’s yard. Billy tied the horses to a fence post and asked Felicity to bring them water.
The mayor joined Terry and Char. “Where in the fuck did that man-mountain come from?” he demanded, grabbing Char by the arm. She whirled so fast that Billy tripped trying to step back and fell, landing heavily on his ass.
“Don’t touch me, ever again,” Char said in a low and dangerous voice. Billy held his hands up, before Terry helped the man to his feet.
“I didn’t mean nothing by it,” he mumbled. “How many fucking people are traipsing around the goddamned mountains? It’s like a parade and how in the hell do they grow so big out there? Can either of you clownburgers explain any of this to me?”
“I don’t know what to tell you, Billy. Thanks for backing us up out there. I expect that Marcus is probably the most dangerous man we have ever met. And you were right there with us, ready to wade into the middle of it. Damn, Billy, you are one tough ball-slapper!”
Billy blinked twice at Terry before answering, “I’m not sure if I’m supposed to be pleased by that or not,” he replied.
Char looked at Terry. “You’re right about that. Marcus is a killer, orders of magnitude worse than that simpering fuckwit Sawyer Brown.” Char looked like she wanted to say more, but not with Billy there. He didn’t need to know the secret of the mountain travelers.
Terry pulled out his knife, washed off the blade, and told the others to take care with the hide. He wanted it. Terry and Char worked methodically and butchered the bear in short order, without any conversation. Billy gave up and went outside to wash down the horses.
Billy finally found a hobby he liked: riding horses. They didn’t give him grief when he talked and when he sat astride one, he could feel their power beneath him. He reveled in sharing that.
The others rode for convenience’s sake. Not him.
Terry and Char stuffed the processed bear into one of Billy’s freezers. They washed up and headed outside, carrying a few steaks that they hoped Margie Rose would turn into a work of art. Char secreted a few pounds of flank steak that she’d eat later, raw as she preferred.
They collected their horses, thanked Billy for washing and grooming them, and then rode off. Once out of earshot, they both tried to talk at the same time.
Terry deferred, preferring to hear what Char had to say.
“I need to leave or he’ll come back. Next time, he’ll kill you on his way to me. Don’t think your silver knife intimidated him,” she cautioned. Terry shook his head. He hadn’t thought that at all. His knife looked puny compared to the massive body of the alpha.
“Maybe it’s time we took to the Wasteland, started looking for others. What will he do if you’re not here?” Terry asked.
“Probably nothing. It’s me he wants. He doesn’t really care about humans.” She looked at the ground as she talked, replaying the earlier encounter in her head.
“Look what he did to those two hunters. He has a taste for human flesh, and he’ll be back alright, but will the pack come with him?” Terry wondered.
“The pack will only passively support him. No one is strong enough to challenge him alone. I need to leave, and it’ll probably be best if you go with me, if you want to live,” she suggested, reaching across the space between their horses to put a hand on Terry’s arm.
Clyde yipped as the horses walked together, squeezing out from in between them. He ran ahead, turning into the brush when he caught sight of a rabbit. He started braying as he chased the terrified creature.
“So, what do we tell Margie Rose? For a woman who rarely leaves the house, she always knows everything that’s going on, so we won’t be able to keep your ex-husband a secret for very long…”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Marcus was furious. He shook with the anger that raged through his body. He needed to kill something, badly. “With me,” he roared at no one in particular. So they followed as he changed into Werewolf form and ran into the woods, faster and higher until he smelled the bull elk. He raced after him, wanting the creature to run.
It did, as Marcus neared. It pounded the earth with its heavy hooves, leaping ravines and tearing through the brush with reckless abandon.
He followed it, pacing himself faster than the fleeing bull. He ran it down from behind, leaping onto its back and biting deep into the creature’s neck, trying to drag it down so he could snap the spine or change his grip to the bull’s throat.
The elk twisted as it fell and its neck broke, almost too easily. Marcus jumped aside deftly, staying clear of the horns when the elk hit the ground. He waited to make sure it was dead before ripping the flesh apart, feasting on the great beast.
He called the rest of the pack to him, and they each dug in.
* * *
Margie Rose wasn’t convinced by their story about the stranger, but they wouldn’t tell her more. She let it go, because it cast a storm cloud over her home. They’d already finished their dinner, but Margie Rose added a freshly baked biscuit that she covered with a gracious helping of jam. Terry and Char looked forward to their dessert, but Clyde had different ideas.
He tripped Margie Rose and when the biscuits flew across the living room, he gobbled them one by one, until he was ushered outside, none too kindly, at the end of Margie Rose’s broom. They wouldn’t let her make any more, although she insisted. It had been a long day, so they packed it in.
Terry lay awake, his mind running a hundred miles an hour. A Werewolf invasion. Holy shit. Marcus was a mountain of flesh, and Terry didn’t have a way to fight him.
The doorknob slowly turned and Char stepped through, closing the door quietly behind her. Wearing nothing but panties, she walked to the side of the bed and stood for there for a second. Terry slid over and she crawled in next to him. She curled into the crook of his arm, putting her head on his chest and listening to the beating of his heart. It sped up, then slowed back to its rhythmic pace.
“What’s this, are you afraid of him?” Terry finally asked.
“You’d be a fool not to be afraid. You saw what he’s capable of. But I’m not afraid for myself. My life was forfeit the second I walked away from him. I’m afraid that I won’t be able to protect you,” she whispered.
Terry was taken aback. He understood that he needed her protection when the fight came. Marcus would kill him and eat his heart. The thought twisted his stomach into a knot.
Terry threw the covers off as the heat in the bed increased dramatically. He’d already started to sweat. Lying next to a Werewolf was worse than having Clyde sleep on him. “Hey! It’s cold in here,” Char complained. He pulled the covers over her and caressed her hair as she drifted off. Clyde was howling outside, leaving Terry no choice.
He carefully tucked a pillow under Char’s head and tiptoed from the room, downstairs, and to the front door. When he opened it, Clyde sprinted through. “Keep it down, Clyde!” Terry snagged a piece of cooked bear for the dog, but he couldn’t be sure Clyde even tasted it as he gulped it down.
Terry tried climbing the stairs quietly, but Cl
yde was all toenails and sliding. When he opened the door, he saw the bed was empty, the covers neatly pulled up to the pillows. He sighed, happy in one way and sad in another, confused in both.
Clyde took two steps and leapt over the footboard and into the middle of the bed where he curled up. “No you don’t, you flea-bitten mongrel!” Terry jumped on the bed beside Clyde, bouncing him into the air. When he landed, Terry expertly moved him to the side and wriggled under the covers.
The door opened and Char walked back in. She closed the door behind her and made her way to the bed, pointing for Terry to move over. He looked at Clyde who had rolled onto his side and was stretching out his long legs.
Terry held up his hands in surrender.
Char nodded then grabbed the mattress and pulled it up, shaking the whole thing once. Clyde hit the floor first, followed closely by Terry. Char shook the mattress back into place and crawled in.
When Terry stood up, he thought turnabout was fair play. He grabbed the mattress, but without opening her eyes, Char waved a finger at him. “Don’t even think about it, TH.” Clyde leapt past him and that was all the incentive Terry needed. He scrambled under the covers, kicking and pushing Clyde until the dog resigned himself with sleeping at the foot of the bed.
“We need to figure out how to beat him. I can’t do it alone, not yet anyway, and you can’t stand up to him on your best day, with your best weapons at hand,” she sighed.
“When I believe I can’t beat him, then I will have already lost. There’s always a way to win. I just need to find it,” Terry whispered. “And I will find it, because we’re not here to protect ourselves. We’re here to protect everyone else, the engineer, the mechanic, even Billy and Felicity.”
She nodded, rolled to her side, and was soon asleep. Clyde started to snore. And Terry laid there, the foot under Clyde was sweating and he thought he was getting a heat rash on his left side because of Char. The Marine Corps way was to embrace the pain, drive it to its apex, let it know that it couldn’t defeat you.
Nomad Omnibus 01: A Kurtherian Gambit Series (A Terry Henry Walton Chronicles Omnibus) Page 23
