Summoner of Storms

by Jordan L. Hawk

  Caleb laughed softly and slid free. “Damn.”

  “Huh. Yeah.” John flung out his arm, and Caleb crawled up to snuggle in beside him. They both smelled of sweat and jizz, a trace of ozone whispering of Gray’s presence.

  “Love you,” Caleb murmured, pressing his lips lightly to John’s chest.

  John hugged him in return. “Love you guys, too. More than anything.”

  * * *

  Caleb perched at the edge of a faux widow’s walk, a bit of decorative nonsense added to one of the enormous houses used as rental properties on Isle of Palms. As far as he knew, traditional Charleston architecture didn’t even have the widow’s walks common in New England—certainly he hadn’t noticed any while wandering around town over the last few months. And even if they did, this house couldn’t be more than twenty years old. No poor woman had paced this iron-railed balcony while peering out to the Atlantic, wondering if any of her husbands would return from the sea. Or if any of them would inconveniently return from the sea at the same time and create an awkward situation.

  Or hell, maybe the old-time sailors were pragmatic enough to realize a woman in every port equaled a husband on every ship, and looked the other way. Or even joined in the fun.

  Speaking of which.

  Caleb bumped his hip against the man sharing his perch. “You doing okay?”

  John seemed to catch onto what he meant, because he cast Caleb a grin. “A little sore, but it was worth it just for the great sex.”

  They’d woken up with the dawn, after a restless night, knowing it all came down to the next twenty-four hours. John suggested a shower together, which ended up with Gray boning him again beneath the pounding spray.

  “We will face demons tonight. He will need to be prepared.”

  Right. That was your only motive. You’re a real martyr for the cause.

  Caleb pressed a kiss into John’s hair. “Thanks for hanging out with me this afternoon. I’d have been bored to death up here with only Gray to talk to.”

  They currently occupied a rental property still empty for the season, with no connection to the Vigilant. Tiffany found the house online the night before and put out the call to everyone she could still reach. Given the possibility of someone being compromised, as soon as they’d disabled the alarm system and let themselves in, she’d ordered him up here. Keeping an eye out for snipers, or people lingering longer than they should, or hell even staring too long out the window of one of the nearby houses. Meanwhile, those she’d summoned arrived in dribs and drabs, mostly by car but also via boats tied up to the private dock out back.

  John shrugged. “There wasn’t much for me to do downstairs with Tiffany, except get in the way. And I’d rather keep you company.”

  Not to mention Sean was downstairs, and John clearly didn’t want any more contact with his former friend than absolutely necessary. To be fair, neither did Caleb. Or Gray.

  Think of the devil and he’ll appear, because the glass door leading onto the walk swung open, and Sean stuck out his head. “Tiffany says we’re ready. Come on down.”

  Anticipation rippled through Gray. And why not? There would be demons to snack on for damn sure.

  “And we will put an end to this Forsyth mortal and return home with John. Everything will be as it should.”

  Well, it was nice to think, even though it didn’t seem too likely. And who knew? Maybe it would happen. They had to hope for something, right?

  “What do you think will happen?” he asked John softly as they started for the door. Sean had already departed back down the stairs. “I mean...after tonight?”

  John paused and turned to him. Lifted his hand and touched Caleb’s face, a gentle caress to go along with a wry smile. “I don’t know, babe. Just concentrate on the action in front of us. We’ll worry about tomorrow when it comes.”

  “Yeah.” But as John started to pull away, Caleb grabbed his hand to stop him. “I just wanted to say I...well. This whole situation has been crazy. Nothing about our relationship is what anyone would call normal. And maybe I’m nuts, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

  John’s smile bloomed brighter. He tugged Caleb closer, until their thighs touched. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  John’s mouth tasted sweet against his, lips hungry and urgent. The swirl of their tongues, familiar yet unique every time. Caleb had never been in a real relationship before, certainly never imagined he’d fall for a Spec. Most definitely had not imagined he’d be doing it with another person taking up space in his head.

  But it had been good. And the thought of losing it, losing John, scared him so bad he didn’t even want to contemplate the possibility.

  Chapter 15

  John led the way down to the living room on the lowest floor of the massive house. They’d dragged all of the furniture out of the huge room, leaving plenty of space for the gathering. He glimpsed Tiffany’s father, some of the other Vigilant who escaped from the attack on the safe house, and a number of others he didn’t recognize.

  Among them stood Kaniyar, a bit worse for wear with a bandage on her forehead, stark white against the smooth bronze of her skin. Pittman waited at her side, and arrayed around them...

  SPECTR agents. People he knew from the Charleston office, and some he didn’t, probably from the other district offices, which had reported to Kaniyar. Most of them appeared grim or even scared, dressed in suits or guard uniforms or scavenged body armor.

  He stopped. Noticing his surprise, Kaniyar nodded casually at him. “I put out the call,” she said, like it was nothing. “Gathered up agents loyal to SPECTR’s true mission instead of Forsyth or the director.”

  John swallowed against a constriction in his throat. Maybe it was his heart, because it suddenly felt too big to be contained by his chest. “Thank you, ma’am.” He looked past her to the other agents, made eye contact with some of them. Rand, the empath, Kaniyar’s secretary Edward, hell even old Victor from records. “I’m glad to see you here.”

  Which was a fucking understatement. Because he’d forgotten. He’d let himself believe SPECTR was nothing more but a cynical grab for power. Something corrupt all the way to the bone. And maybe parts of it were, but the bulk of the agency was this: ordinary men and women doing the best they could. Trying to help people. Even if that meant putting their lives on the line, whether from NHEs or their own agency.

  Although Kaniyar’s presence did bring up a question. “Who’s in charge here?” Tiffany might straddle the line between Vigilant and SPECTR, but senior agents wouldn’t listen to her just because a bunch of civilians called her la capitaine.

  “I am,” Kaniyar said. “This action needs some kind of legitimacy, which it won’t have if the Vigilant are in charge.”

  Tiffany nodded reluctantly. “This is technically a SPECTR op. Against itself.”

  “However,” Kaniyar added, with a glare to the agents, “in light of the Vigilant’s expertise, I am temporarily deputizing everyone present to act under my authority. Not to mention they’ve provided a very large amount of ammunition, the source of which none of us are going to question.”

  From his position against the wall, Tiffany’s father Devon tipped an imaginary hat to Kaniyar. Which explained what he’d been up to since they’d gone their separate ways.

  “Agent Ward will direct her operatives as she sees fit. I trust we will all conduct ourselves as a professional machine.”

  “Here’s the plan.” Tiffany indicated an oversized sketch of Fort Sumter tacked on the wall where everyone could see. John and Caleb moved closer to peer at it, along with Kaniyar and some of the senior agents and Vigilant. “For those who don’t know, Fort Sumter takes up most of the islet is sits on. The fort itself is pentagonal, with three sides dropping almost straight into the water. There the fourth side has a large entrance, but it faces the dock, which is narrow enough to turn into a shooting gallery if we try to come in through there. Which leaves the fifth side.”

>   She pointed at the rough map. “Here’s where we get lucky. Over time, a sand bar has formed between Fort Sumter and James Island. The sand bar happens to be on the same side of the fort as the old sally port and original dock. This section of wall is much lower than the rest, and pretty much the only place we have a hope of getting in.”

  John nodded. He vaguely recalled having visited the fort in middle school history class, but any memory of its layout was long gone. “Handy.”

  “We run the boats up on the sand bar,” Tiffany went on. “Go on foot through the marshy area, then hit the wall with grapples and ladders. Once there, the first rank will lay down suppressing fire while the rest go over. Just below the outer wall is a series of low brick walls, which will give some cover, but could also break a leg if you’re not careful. There are old casements complete with cannons, and damaged walls to the left, which are going to be a bitch if they’re full of demons.”

  “Any guesses where Forsyth will be?” Caleb asked.

  “Here.” Kaniyar said, indicating a spot on the map. “The Soviet summoning in Forsyth’s files relies on a pentagram. As a pentagon, the fort lends itself perfectly to the ritual. At a guess, the main sigils will be placed on the outer walls at each point.”

  The hair on the back of John’s neck tried to stand up. “Shit. Are you saying the entire fort is a giant summoning circle?”

  Kaniyar nodded. “It would almost have to be, if what we think we know about drakul is accurate.”

  Caleb cocked his head slightly to one side, as if listening. “They used a big circle for Gray. It enclosed the entire ziggurat, anyway.” He flinched and closed his eyes briefly. “There were a lot of dead people. S-sacrifices.”

  “Including the body Gray ended up in,” Tiffany observed.

  “She was different.” Caleb shook his head. “She chose it. Fought for it. The rest weren’t voluntary, I don’t think. Some of them were kids.” He folded his arms over his chest, ducking his chin down, as if shielding himself from the memories unspooling in his own skull. “Which bothers the hell out me and Gray both. But Forsyth seems pretty okay with it, which says we’ve got a big fucking problem on our hands if he succeeds.”

  John put a hand to Caleb’s shoulder. Caleb met his gaze, offered a small smile of thanks in return.

  “All of which is why we need to stop this before the possession takes place,” Kaniyar said. “Based on the pentagram, Forsyth will be here at its center. On top of the battery.”

  Caleb frowned. “Isn’t that the park on the waterfront?”

  “Battery just means a fortification with heavy guns,” John clarified.

  “The casements and parade grounds are at the original ground level.” Kaniyar indicated them on the map. “The Battery Huger and the earthwork behind it was built in 1899. They’re on the same level as the tops of the fort walls.”

  “So Forsyth is going to be above us,” Caleb said. “Great.”

  “And the stairs leading up will create choke points to reach him.” Tiffany stepped back and crossed her arms. “Nobody said this would be easy. If anyone has a better idea, though, I’m all ears.”

  No one did. “Objective one is to stop the summoning at any cost,” Kaniyar said, sweeping her gaze over the assembly. “Objective two is to save any prisoners we can. In the case of Forsyth’s possessed soldiers...I know we’re trained to save anyone whose possession is still reversible, but it’s not going to be an option here.”

  John cleared his throat. “Oh. Um. I can probably help some of them. It, uh, seems I can pull out NHEs without a circle now.”

  Silence. Kaniyar arched a skeptical brow. “And how is it you can suddenly do that, Agent Starkweather?”

  “Etheric spunk,” Tiffany said.

  Heat flooded his face. “Thanks, Tiffany. I’m glad we can pretend we’re all in tenth grade again.” He glanced at Caleb, who seemed to be trying not to snicker, and finally at Kaniyar. “It seems being in close proximity to Gray can amp-up my exorcist abilities, just as he’s increased Caleb’s TK.” There. It at least sounded like something that could go in a report.

  “Close proximity? Is that what they’re calling it these days?” Kaniyar asked wryly. “Save anyone you can, but not at the risk of your life or anyone else’s.”

  “Understood, ma’am.”

  She eyed the assembly again. “Anyone else developing interesting abilities? Dating NHEs? No?” She folded her hands at the small of her back. “Then it’s show time, people. Let’s go out there and show Forsyth what SPECTR is really made of.”

  * * *

  Caleb clung to his seat at the front of the boat as it practically skipped across the bay, aiming for the low, boxy silhouette of Fort Sumter. The low glow of lights hung over it—was the fort normally lit at night? The moon neared full, the newly fallen night cloudless. The stiff wind kicked up intermittent whitecaps on the water. Just off the bow, a fin breached the surface; a pod of dolphins, making its way along beneath the ocean, uncaring of NHEs or any of the rest of it.

  Or are they? I mean, they’re as smart as we are, right? They have names for each other, for fuck’s sake. Do they ever strike deals with demons? Are there dolphin SPECTRs out there, keeping the pods safe?

  Curiosity. “I do not know. I would suggest discovering it for ourselves, but the sensation of drowning is unpleasant, even if it would not kill us.”

  Caleb shivered, thinking about the drakul on the bottom of Lake Baikal. Bastard would be lucky if it could drown instead of eternally suffocate inside some coffin of concrete and steel. Jesus.

  “There’s the fort,” John said softly from beside them. Of course their more-than-human sight had spotted it a while back, but Caleb just nodded.

  The boats came in fast, lights off, relying on the moonlight to guide them to this sand bar of Tiffany’s. Something sparked in his vision. Etheric energy? As they drew nearer, the air grew closer, oppressive. Like a storm about to break.

  Light sparked again—one of the sigils Kaniyar had mentioned, he thought.

  Fuck. “Something’s happening,” Caleb said. “Forsyth has already started. I can feel it.”

  John swore and turned to relay the news to the other agents and operatives in their boat. Caleb kept his attention directed to the front, to the low line of the fort just above the waves. Far to the left, the lights of the Cooper River Bridge shone through the darkness, and to the right, the occasional light from houses flickered amidst the foliage of James Island.

  God. The fort seemed far out in the bay, but in reality it was too damned close. If Forsyth succeeded in summoning the drakul and it snapped...what would happen to those people driving over the bridge? Or hanging out on a Saturday night on the deck? Or cruising around the bay on their fucking sailboat?

  Let alone the city itself. Screw Forsyth for putting them in danger.

  “You did not used to be this concerned with random mortals.”

  Thanks for the newsflash. I’m trying to look at the bigger picture here, okay?

  The boats slowed, gliding forward like a school of sharks in the dark. The glow of floodlights inside the fort, combined with the moonlight, would show up bigger obstacles, but most of the agents wore night vision goggles as well.

  Caleb found himself holding his breath as they came abreast of the fort. The sense of oppression strengthened, became a throbbing pulse in the air, like something about to tear. A jagged bit of memory suddenly unreeled behind his eyes: the sensation of being snared. Of having flown free, one with the storm, feeding and hunting on the wind, before the cessation of movement. A tiger in a trap. An orca tangled in a drag net.

  Caught.

  Shit. Is that what’s happening to the drakul Forsyth is summoning now?

  “I believe so.”

  Sand scraped beneath the hull, and the whole boat shuddered, bleeding speed as it ran aground on a sand bar half-hidden by the tide. Caleb didn’t wait for it to come to a complete stop before leaping over the side, landing in ankle-deep wa
ter.

  Even from here, he heard voices chanting. Forsyth must have brought along more than one exorcist to help with the summoning.

  Caleb broke into a run, his boots slipping in slime as the sand gave way to a low marsh. Sea grass whipped around his legs. A low embankment of shell-studded earth separated him from the firmer ground surrounding this face of the fort. He scrambled over it just as the howls started.

  Lycanthropes. Hunger cramped his gut and his teeth burned, but he stayed focused. There would be plenty of fighting, but they couldn’t afford to get bogged down outside the fort.

  A loud creak announced the opening of the doors near the dock. Seconds later, the fleet shapes of fully transformed werewolves appeared, lights flashing on the control collars about their necks. He ignored them, put on a burst of speed as he approached the lowest point in the wall. Here the brick gave way to a short stretch of wood, offering a better grip for grapples—and claws.

  He leapt, a burst of TK and drakul-fueled muscles carrying him easily to the top of the wall. Gunfire opened behind him, agents with machine guns laying waste to the lycanthropes trying to surround them. Grapples flew through the air beside him, some catching on their own. Others he yanked toward him with TK and secured in place manually.

  A bullet whispered past his ear, and he ducked, just as the first agents swarmed up the grappling lines. The front rank opened suppressing fire, while others unrolled chain ladders and secured them to the wall.

  Caleb turned his attention to the fort itself. Below, amidst the half-ruined brick casements and iron cannons, across the open parade ground beyond, demons massed. Most wore collars, like those at RD, but some remained human enough to need no coercion beyond blind loyalty.