The Endangered (The Endangered Series Book 1)

by S. L. Eaves

  The simulation finishes and a digital screen displays Dade’s results.

  “It’s based on speed and accuracy. You always want head shots. You shoot faster, but less accurately, the system will tell you to slow down. For the best results, you want the perfect balance of both. Dade is shooting at 94%. Pretty impressive.”

  Dade hits the lights and joins us.

  “Our ballistics expert scores again. Can I be the one to test it on the field?”

  “Sure, I’ll have it ready by tomorrow.”

  Dade looks at his results.

  “94, huh? Tell Catch to watch his back. I’m going to outscore him any day now.”

  Dade left and Xan hands me a different gun, one lacking the bells and whistles of the other.

  “Here. We’re going to start with the basics.”

  Chapter 14

  I’ve been wrestling with my feelings for Catch and he’s picked up on my avoidance. To his credit, he tries to give me space, but it is hard to do under the same roof. We often engage in awkward small talk until we can’t stand it and find an excuse to run off. Things have changed since it was just the two of us. Now he is playing a part of a soldier and our dynamic has shifted noticeably. The honeymoon phase is over.

  Tonight, much to my relief, he is sent on an assignment that will keep him on the road for a few days.

  As the sun sets I take to the grounds. There are miles of paths stretching around the woods. Aside from the occasional bird cry, the woods are eerily silent. I opt to break the silence with Jiro’s iPod.

  Jogging along, absorbed in the music, I am startled by a sudden presence at my side. It is Crina.

  “Hey there.” She is wearing a black track suit and silver sneakers. I slow my pace and remove the headset. “You learning your way around okay? You know the jogging thing is kind of unnecessary, right?” she inquires.

  “Yeah, old habits die hard. Helps me clear my head. Mostly just exploring the paths around the estate. How many acres are we on?”

  “50. 100. I’d be guessing. All I know is it takes a lot of security to keep it under watch.”

  “Are there cameras all around here?” I look around.

  “Surveillance is pretty thorough. Heaviest by the gates and doorways. Motion detectors line the entire perimeter.”

  I nod.

  “So watch where you venture. Stick to the trails,” She smiles. “Hey, how would you like to go out and see the city?”

  “I’d love to.” Painfully aware I sound overly eager. “This place is great and all, but I could use a change of scenery.”

  “I’ve got an assignment in Bristol. I’m headed out in a couple hours to take care of him. Why don’t you join me?”

  “An assignment? Am I even authorized yet?”

  “You are if I say you are. It’s okay. Besides, you’ll just be observing. Nothing dangerous,” Crina assures me.

  I shrug. “Count me in then.”

  “Good. Meet me outside the stables at twenty-one hundred hours.”

  “The stables?”

  “Building on the northeast side of the property. We’ve converted it into a garage.” Crina points at the NYU letters embroidered on my hoodie. “And don’t wear that. We’ll just have to go shopping while we’re out.” She takes off for the mansion.

  I stand wondering what just transpired.

  Is she testing me? Probably. Warm and friendly isn’t her forte. What’s with this change of heart? Has to be a test.

  Only one way to know for certain.

  ***

  I arrive at the stables at 2100 hours exactly. I’m dressed in black head to toe, complete with a pair of cargo pants that seem to be all the rage around here. A switchblade, a gift from Catch, is my lone accessory. I envision it discreetly hidden in my knee-high, black leather boots. Boots I’ll need to purchase. If we really are going shopping, those rank high on my priority list. I feel I should be more prepared, but there is nothing else I possess that I imagine will be of any use.

  As I approach, one of the stable doors swings open and a little cherry coupe with tinted windows pulls out. Crina is in the driver’s seat. I slide in shotgun and we speed off.

  “Nice wheels,” I try opening with a compliment.

  “Do you have a comm?” She indicates the piece in her ear.

  “No. Should I?”

  “I’ll have Jiro give you one.”

  Jiro and I had been bonding some in the operations room lately. He was a rogue who reached out to Marcus after the firestorm. His knowledge of computers, technology, and engineering has proved to be a huge asset. Brilliant doesn’t cover it.

  He is paralyzed from the waist down; he’d been involved in a blast while fighting in World War II and lost use of his legs. He’s vague about how he was turned, my guess is it wasn’t above board so to speak, but the way he explains it is he bought his way into vampirism in the hopes the regenerative powers of the demon blood would repair his shattered spine.

  Sadly, no such luck. Certain physical disabilities incurred prior to death, to turning, cannot be healed. A debilitating disease on the other hand could be rendered dormant by the body’s death. Or flushed out with the transformation, say if it’s something that was in the blood cells. At least this is how he explains it. And the man’s done his research.

  As an alternative, Jiro has a pair of bionic legs he can use to walk around, but they have to be operated by hand controls and the batteries don’t hold their charge for long. They are slow and clumsy and I rarely see him in them.

  Jiro is Japanese and fluent in multiple languages; dead or alive, there is no language this guy can’t master. To say this twenty-something with an affinity for neon hair dye and video games is gifted is an understatement.

  Xan assisted in his journey to England and it is my understanding that Jiro hasn’t left the castle since his arrival a few decades back. He shares Xan’s passion for invention. They bonded instantly. Watching the two tinker around the tech room, fiddling with gadgets, finishing each other’s sentences, debating algorithms is equally as cute as it is nauseating.

  His ingenuity brought us comms that allow him to beep in with intel updates and allows us to communicate with the base or others on the frequency. They also double as tracking devices.

  Crina picks up where Jiro left off, explaining how we use various equipment in the field. She laughs when I ask if I should have brought a gun and gestures towards the trunk. She’s well prepared.

  I have questions, but this doesn’t seem like the time. Crina keeps checking her GPS screen and occasionally throws in tidbits about the region. I listen politely, taking it all in, trying to read her mannerisms.

  “Who is the target?”

  “Man, middle aged, lives alone in a house he got in a settlement with his ex-wife. He has recently been identified as the assailant in several attacks around town.”

  “Werewolf, right?”

  “Mmhmm.”

  “Is he working for someone?”

  “Not directly, at least I couldn’t connect him to anyone, but he’s aware of the cause and is making his own contributions toward the war.”

  “He’s turned others?”

  “Infected. Yes. He’s bitten several but leaves them fairly mangled. And vulnerable. I’ve taken them out. It’s how I’ve come to determine him the common denominator. We often target wolves acting independently because they are the most vulnerable. It stops them from forming their own pack and it won’t typically attract retaliation from an existing pack…Though if it does, we’re more than happy to deal.”

  “Makes sense.”

  “Catch tell you how many we’ve lost?”

  “In the fire?”

  “No. Since. After the attack, Adrian surfaced. He had not been in The Covenant when it burned. No one had seen or heard from him in over a century. When he did emerge, it was at Marcus’s request. Marcus wanted revenge and Adrian permitted Marcus to turn who he saw fit. To begin anew.

  “And he did. For a
good decade. But they were untrained, novice fighters and fell fast. We didn’t have good artillery. Or strategy. We’d go in blind and get mauled, often underestimating their numbers.

  “Adrian was infuriated with Marcus’s reckless actions, his ‘abuse of power.’ Marcus is no longer permitted to turn, to pass his lineage. Pollute it, as Adrian accused.

  “That’s when Xan went to Japan to retrieve Jiro, who eagerly stepped in to help. Shifted our focus to technology, to intel and to weaponry. We’ve been doing a lot better since.”

  “What are their motives?”

  “Same as any species at the top of the food chain. They want control, power, dominance, an endless supply of resources and sustainability. Your typical ambitions. What they need is to turn more humans. We’re just standing in their way.”

  We park at the end of a residential street. According to Crina’s GPS, the werewolf is residing about seven houses down to the left. Crina pops the trunk and removes a long thin bag, which she throws across her back like a bow sling.

  The neighborhood is quiet. A dog barks in the distance. We are in the suburbs of Bristol, walking down a sidewalk partially illuminated by diffused dirty street lights. We approach casually, casing the neighborhood for signs of life.

  Crina stops, breaks the silence.

  “That’s it. Across the street. Glance over casually.”

  “Several lights on downstairs,” I confirmed. “Someone’s home. Does he live with anyone?”

  “No. Alone.”

  I whisper, “So how do you get this intel? Jiro? Other sources?”

  She smiles coyly.

  “Xan and Jiro assist during major takedowns or anytime an extra set of eyes and ears are necessary. We are responsible for the hunt. Once we identify a wolf we look into their background, tail them, place bugs…all sorts of methods to gather information on their habits. We learn what we can from the wolf, but ultimately the goal is to keep it from killing or infecting. You want to do it without witnesses. Discretion is key.

  “If it’s a pack, you want to hunt them while they’re hunting humans, while they are distracted. Right now, in the woods somewhere, there’s a pack of wolves chasing their next victim. There’s some poor sap getting bit in a crowded club. There’s any number of scenarios. Every night we take one down and a dozen more are infected. It’s a losing battle. But we keep at it in hopes that we’ll make a dent in their operations. Finding an alpha, taking out a bigger threat, helps the dominos fall faster.”

  “Cut off the head before it grows any more tails.”

  “Yeah exactly.”

  “Any clue who’s at the head?”

  “There was a man a few decades back. He was young, naïve, and wild as they come. He formed a pack and mounted an attack on a clan of vampires. It was the first time in recent history that the wolves came after us. It was an offensive move, as to my knowledge, we weren’t hunting them at the time. I was part of the clan that defeated them. If we hadn’t killed him and his followers back then, I would link it to him. Then again, this time they aren’t directly going after our throats; it’s the humans they are targeting. So no, while this reminds me of that attack, it can’t be the same wolf at the helm.”

  We reach the end of the street, then cut back through neighbor’s yards, weaving around shrubbery and sticking to the shadows. Eventually we end up on the roof of the house directly across from the target’s.

  She continues as she unpacks her bag.

  “You go after a target, you want to know everything you can…did he shatter his knee in a car accident? Deaf in one ear? Severe allergies? Any weakness you can exploit could prove key to your success. Make the job that much easier. ’Cause at the end of the day you’re left with a dead body. And as I’m sure Catch told you, we cannot risk exposure. No trail. Nothing that would raise human eyebrows in our direction.”

  She hands me a scope. I regard it quizzically.

  “Did Xan teach you nothing? Infrared monocular. Detects heat signatures. Just tell me if you spot him.”

  I oblige.

  “So what’s this guy’s story?”

  “Rogue as far as I can tell. But it’s just a matter of time before a pack gets to him or he starts one in Bristol. This city has been quiet and I aim to keep it that way.”

  “I think I got something. He’s in the back.”

  I watch as Crina removes a sniper rifle, assembles it, loads it and attaches a suppressor.

  “Xan show you how to use one of these?”

  “Yes. And he emphasized the need for using a suppressor in public.”

  “Good. That’s something at least.”

  “That mean you’re going to let me use it?”

  “We’ll see.”

  She gestures for me to hand her the monocular and snaps it neatly onto the rifle.

  “Locked and loaded,” she says, making some adjustments.

  ‘So we wait till you get a clear shot?”

  “Well I’m thinking of something a little more…efficient.”

  “Like throwing a rock at the window?”

  “Close…Whaddya say you go down and knock on the door?”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah, say you were mugged on the street. You need to use his phone to call the cops. When he comes to the door, I’ll have a perfect shot. Bam. Piece of cake.”

  “Sounds simple enough. I’m in.”

  No sooner had I said that then she lands her fist square in my jaw.

  I stumble backward, but somehow manage to stay on my feet.

  “What the hell!”

  “It has to look believable. You have to look like you were really attacked. Relax, it’ll heal fast.”

  “Give a girl some warning, damn.”

  I spit blood on the roof.

  “Figured it’d be easier if you weren’t prepared. You’re already healing.”

  I crack my neck. “Okay, go ahead, throw another.”

  She obliges. This one lands on my nose.

  My eyes burn. I pinch my nostrils in pain, blood oozing from between my fingers.

  “You all right?”

  “Yeah, yeah. Stings a bit.”

  “Well hurry up before you heal. And calm down already; he can’t see your fangs.”

  I drop down and cross over to his house and knock quickly, not allowing myself time to think about what I am doing, to think about turning back. Though panicking would have helped my story.

  A tall, broad man of about forty opens the door.

  “I—Help—I was mugged!” I stammer.

  He regards me with a confused look, then something in his expression changes.

  “What? You were, uh—mugged?”

  He watches blood trickle down my face with hungry eyes. Nostrils flare.

  “Big guy. He hit me and grabbed my bag.”

  I continue with the farce, holding my nose, trying to sell it, wondering why Crina hasn’t taken the shot. She is positioned to the left of the house. I am standing back from him and to the right, allowing her an opening. Though I get the impression she’ll shoot through me without a second thought.

  He glances around. His hands are shaking and, more importantly, looking less human by the second.

  “Uh—you better come in then. You can use my phone.”

  Fur begins sprouting from the seams of his clothes. His nose and ears start transforming. I step back nervously.

  “On second thought—“

  I don’t have a chance to finish.

  There is a faint whiz. His head snaps back.

  Smoke rises from his burnt eye socket.

  He staggers backward. I duck instinctively and look up as puss oozes down his cheek.

  Another whiz. This bullet strikes him clear through the chest.

  A gasp, then a thump as he hits the doorframe. I bend over him, watching the hair recede from his jaw line, claws retract as human hands re-emerge.

  “Whoa.”

  “Let’s drag him inside before someone sees.” Cr
ina is instantly at my side, predictably nonchalant.

  “Why’d you drag it out? And why’d he start to change like that?”

  “He was a werewolf. What’d you expect?”

  Recapping those past few moments in my head, I remember how he’d looked at me.

  “It was the blood wasn’t it? It set him off? And you knew it would.”

  “He was newly turned, knew he’d react to the blood; human or demon.”

  “That’s cold.” I turn my attention to the corpse in the doorway. I bend down and pull him inside. She closes the door behind us.

  “I wanted you to see what we’re up against.”

  Spotting an open beer on the counter, I go to his fridge and remove a cold one. She follows me in and hands me a towel for the blood that’d sprayed my face.

  “It’s important you see these creatures for what they really are; that you understand the treat they pose. You watch me shooting a human sitting at home looking harmless, I’ll look like the evil one in this scenario.”

  “Fair enough,” I nod slightly, watching blood trickle from the wound in his chest.

  “It’s not like I let him attack you.”

  “Well I should be thanking you then.”

  Ignoring my sarcasm, she glances around his place. “You did well. Now help me stage this to look like a robbery gone bad.”

  “I’m guessing him living alone makes this a lot easier?”

  “Yes. Particularly in that with the homeowner deceased, we can now enter to cover our tracks and extract anything that might seem pertinent to our cause without having to create a bigger mess.”

  “That’s how it works? You can enter their home after death?”

  “Yep.” She nods.

  “You could’ve at least armed me.”

  Chapter 15

  After thoroughly ransacking his house and taking all the cash we can find, we make a hasty departure. Robbery victim to the police; casualty of war to the wolves.

  Crina drives us into downtown Bristol. With the mission completed, her demeanor has softened some and she speaks more openly. Granted, the main topic continues to be werewolves, but I am just glad for the conversation. When she does veer off the war talk, I quickly wish she hadn’t.