The general waved Crow into the Oval Office. Crow’s eyes teared as he rushed into the smoke-choked room. The beast’s hideous form was reduced to crimson sushi by the large assault weapons. Holding a handkerchief over his nose and mouth, Crow glided through the acrid gunmetal haze like a specter as he methodically searched for Lisa and President Hanover. But there was no trace of them.
Later, Crow reported his activities at the White House to the general. When advised that there was no record of his White House entry in the visitors’ log at the front gates, Crow subtly implied that the discrepancy was no doubt an oversight on the part of the guards. The skeptical general was about to receive a copy of the Oval Office surveillance video when Crow excused himself to go to the restroom. He lost no time returning to the upstairs maintenance closet where he successfully executed the wind walk chant.
Although he needed a little rest and relaxation to recuperate from his near-death experiences with Lisa Anders, he willed himself to Duneden so he could report his mission failure to Nick.
He prayed that Neo was all right.
60
T
he noon sun washed the sprawling Aspirations warehouse along the shore of Baltimore Harbor in blistering brilliance. The facility was a hive of activity as workers manned forklifts and cranes to load poisoned Aspirations products onto big semi rigs and lake freighters. From his concealment inside the warehouse, Tobias observed the outdoor activity through a cobwebbed, grimy window from the highest point inside the warehouse. The entire building was air conditioned, but the corrugated steel roof wasn’t insulated and conducted the sun’s heat like a broiler oven.
Tobias Simpkins, CEO of Aspirations, Incorporated, waited in that sweat zone, his silver hair matted against his head and his perspiration-soaked clothes clinging to his body like a second skin. He seriously considered using his magic to make himself comfortable, but he was afraid that it would alert his enemy to his presence. That was the last thing he wanted. And besides, the outcome would be worth the hours of torment.
Tobias crouched patiently among the rafters waiting for Grant Donovan’s killer to make an entrance. It was inevitable. Just a matter of time. Somehow, Tobias sensed that today would be the day the murderer put in an appearance at their Baltimore facility.
He squinted down at the steel honeycomb of crates, skids, and cartons. A brown sea of anonymity. An unmarked crate rested on the highest storage shelf, accessible only by the largest forklift. It concealed the remaining elixir tank. Bait for Grant’s murderer.
Tobias wanted to pound his fists against the loft railing and scream. After waiting four thousand years to possess Tobhor’s elixir again, he and his partners had inexplicably become targets of a violent, faceless opponent. They were lined up like dominoes - poised to topple one after the other.
And for what? Tobhor’s damn elixir! If the mystery murderer had only contacted them and struck a bargain for his fair share of the elixir, all four of them could have formed a partnership.
Tobias’s mouth curled into a sneer. Who was he kidding? He, Grant, and Sloan would’ve eliminated their new partner at the first opportunity. Sharing was out of the question. They had been the ones who had kidnapped Tobhor four thousand years ago and had forced him to make certain improvements to his formula—improvements that would have made them invincible in their quest for domination of this primitive dimension. If the old fool hadn’t locked himself and the elixir away from the world, Tobias’s exile in this cursed dimension would have been far easier to tolerate these past forty centuries.
Tobias snapped alert. He heard shouts and excited chatter below. He wiped his face with the shop rag someone left in the loft, and glanced down. The workers gathered at the entrance like pagans paying homage to a god.
Four people paraded past the throng, and the Aspirations employees trailed them like groupies at a rock concert. Tobias’s eyes narrowed, and his lips tightened into a terse line. He recognized the murderer among the four visitors. The traitor! Tobias resisted the temptation to launch a lightning bolt and smite the bastard, but there would be too many innocent deaths that would require a police investigation. Aspirations didn’t need that kind of publicity, especially when Tobias was so close to realizing his goals.
He also recognized one of the killer’s companions. Neo Doss. FBI. Now what was he doing there? Was the agent involved in the murderer’s treachery, too? A pair of sleazy young women doted on Doss. Were those bimbos Doss’s payoff for betraying Nick Bellamy and Rance Osborne? If they were, the former NFL star was working cheap these days.
Hate welled within Tobias as he watched the large “Star Wars” forklift part the crowd and brake far below the elixir crate. He didn’t need to stick around the warehouse to know what the killer was after. Tobias also knew where to find him and both elixir tanks at sunset that evening.
He couldn’t waste any more time inside the warehouse. He had plans to make. Tonight, Grant’s murderer would be in for a nasty surprise. With clenched fists, the ancient destroyer vanished.
After their visit to the Aspirations warehouse in Baltimore, Neo found himself strapped to a chair in the basement of the New Jersey asylum. His two female companions ogled him hungrily, but Neo wasn’t overly concerned. Before leaving the asylum, McGrath issued a stern caveat not to damage Neo in any way. For some reason, they were deathly afraid of McGrath and were obeying his command. So far, at least.
But McGrath mentioned nothing about playing with their captive, so the cats began teasing the mouse. As soon as the Aspirations partner disappeared, the two women stripped Neo and then shed their skimpy outfits. Both seductively brushed their naked bodies against him and took turns guiding their erect nipples along his taut lips. They begged him to open his mouth and suckle their breasts; but instead, Neo squeezed his eyes shut and imagined the ugliest women he ever saw. Unfortunately, it didn’t work.
Mindy rode his stiff member as if it was a mechanical, barroom bull. The chair frame creaked beneath her uninhibited humping and gyrations, until Neo figured the chair’s legs were on the verge of collapse. But to his chagrin, they held. After his member exploded inside Mindy, Lurdene teased it rigid again and took her wild ride.
Two hours later, the wild-eyed savages finally gave him a break and sexually assaulted each other. The moaning women fondled, licked, and rubbed each other into one frantic orgasm after another. Neo fervently prayed that they would ignore him the rest of the afternoon, but his prayers went unheeded. Soon, groping hands, roaming tongues, and warm mouths coaxed another erection, and the women were back in the saddle again.
61
A
fter narrating her ancestors’ incredible history, the daunting Glenna Guttentag called a family meeting in her living room. Fritz eased his immense frame into the recliner in the corner, while the sullen Hugo sat on the edge of the flowered couch and glared at Nick. Everyone was strung tight.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you, Glenna, how you managed to hold that black cloud at bay in the grotto,” Nick asked her, breaking the ice.
Glenna sat in her oak rocking chair and considered his question. Finally, she replied, “You’re familiar with Superman, right?”
Nick frowned, and then nodded, wondering where was she going with that unexpected angle.
“Superman’s powers were depleted each time he was around kryptonite, and it appears as if that ornery shape-shifter loses its power around our witches’ meteor,” she answered. “As you saw with your own eyes, when I conjured that energy bolt from the meteor’s radiation, it pretty much did that danged thing in.”
Nick grinned. Forget carrying a rabbit’s foot in his pocket for luck. He wanted a piece of that meteor.
As if reading his thoughts, Glenna reached into her dress pockets and withdrew a fistful of reddish-orange stones. She tossed one to each of the men.
“Just in case that thing returns.” Glenna checked the grandfather clock. The hands indicated 3:24 p.m. “Now, we’ve got some chores to
take care of before sunset. Boys,” she addressed her grandsons, “get a move on.”
Hugo and Fritz ambled out the front door.
“Where are they going?” Nick asked. “Maybe I can help.”
“Oh, you will,” Glenna replied prophetically. “We just have to wait here for a few more minutes.”
Nick scowled “Are we expecting someone?”
Glenna sidestepped the question. “Why don’t you go upstairs and get your gun. You’re going to need it before too long.”
When Nick returned to the living room, Crow was standing inside the front door. He pointed angrily at Nick, but Glenna merely chuckled.
“You!” he barked at Nick.
Nick was taken aback by Crow’s boorish greeting.
“You sent me, a nonviolent guy, into the damned field with a popgun and a woman and expected me to survive!” he ranted.
“It looks like you’re no worse for wear,” Nick pointed out, stifling a smile.
“Yeah, no thanks to you.”
“Did you find Neo?”
“Hell, no, and that’s not even half the story,” Crow replied animatedly.
Nick glanced at Glenna for help, but he could tell by her amused grin that she was thoroughly enjoying Crow’s tirade. He was on his own.
“Mind telling us the whole story?” Nick asked, sitting on the sofa’s armrest.
Crow strode irritably into the living room and plunked himself into the recliner. Nick and Glenna listened intently as he related his horrific experiences at the White House. All humor drained from Nick’s expression when Crow finally told them about Lisa and Hanover’s disappearance.
“Oh dear,” Glenna moaned. “You say they both vanished from the Oval Office?”
“That’s about the size of it,” Crow responded brusquely, still piqued at Nick. “Geronimo analyzed the surveillance tapes and reported that they both just disappeared. Period. No trick wires. No time lapses in the video recording.”
Nick’s gaze bore into the old woman. “That wasn’t part of your plan?”
“I’m afraid not.” She turned to Crow. “You said that the Cumalodin didn’t attack them, because it was trapped in some kind of force field?”
“That’s what Geronimo reported.”
“I take it that it wasn’t your force field?” Nick asked Glenna.
“No, I’m afraid it wasn’t, Nick.”
Nick paced between the sofa and fireplace. “I should’ve never sent Lisa with Crow,” he lamented. “If anything happens to her, I’ll never forgive . . .”
“Now, now, Nick, I’m certain she’s fine,” Glenna said consolingly. “If the shape-shifter is responsible for their disappearance, it won’t harm her as long as she’s with President Hanover.”
“That’s a large assumption. I hope you’re right,” he said. “But where could they be?”
Silence. No one ventured a guess.
Glenna looked at the grandfather clock again. “Time to go.”
“Go where?” Crow asked skeptically.
“To Gabriella’s house.”
Glenna, Nick, and Crow vanished from her house and appeared inside the vestibule of the Wolfe mansion.
“What are we doing here?” Nick asked.
“The shape-shifter has so kindly provided a small diversion for us,” Glenna enlightened them. “It has sent a band of terrorists here to kidnap Blossom and Clay. Insurance, I think you people in the FBI would call it. I have reinforcements on the way.”
“What!” Crow exploded. “Why would it want them? They’re not directly involved in our investigation.”
“But they are directly involved with us,” Nick answered grimly.
“Where are Blossom and Clay?” Crow asked.
Suddenly, Jill Sandlin, Blossom, and Clay appeared in front of them. Crow jumped, startled.
“Why don’t you give a guy some warning before you just pop people in and out like that?” he bristled.
Jill threw her arms around Crow’s neck. “Oh, thank God you’re here, Crow. I’m so scared. There are men hiding out back in the trees with guns.”
Crow kissed her, delicately pulled her hands from his neck, and drew his 9 mm from its holster. “Where’s Charlie Crowfoot?”
“He went out earlier. You just missed him. He said he had some hunting to do,” she replied.
“So do I,” he said gravely. “Like ambushing some terrorists.”
Nick raised a hand. “Not so fast, Chief. I’ve got an idea.” He pulled Crow aside and whispered his plan. Crow begrudgingly nodded his approval, and they rejoined the others.
“Jill, you, Blossom, and Clay are going with Crow.”
“But . . .” Jill started to object.
“No but’s,” Nick cut her short.
Jill faced Crow. “I’m not supposed to leave here. I promised Gabriella that I’d stick around till she came back.”
“She’ll understand,” Glenna interjected.
“Crow, where are we going?”
“A Holiday Inn,” he replied, and suddenly the foursome disappeared.
“Where did they go?” Glenna demanded.
It was Nick’s turn to be mysterious. “That’s part of my plan, Glenna, in case yours fails. Now, where are Hugo and Fritz?”
“Waiting for my reinforcements.”
Kamool, Gabriella’s familiar in the shape of a beautiful white Persian cat, scampered into the vestibule and leaped into Nick’s arms. In a heartbeat, he knew the identity of Glenna’s reinforcements.
“Looks like Kamool and his friends are ready to rock and roll,” Nick said. He pulled out his Glock with his free hand. “Where do I find your grandsons, Glenna?”
“In the forest behind the terrorists.”
“Kamool, we’re going to turn the tables on their surprise attack with one of our own.” He stroked its fur, even though he knew what a frightening creature lay within it. “Let’s go, buddy.”
And with that, he and the Persian faded from view, leaving Glenna alone in the vast mansion.
Hugo and Fritz were mildly amazed when Nick appeared with Kamool in his arms, but they remained silent. Nick placed the familiar on the ground and peered through the dense brush at the terrorists’ positions. Nick counted fourteen in all. They wore green, brown, and khaki jungle camouflage fatigues and were strategically spaced in a semicircle thirty feet from one another. They were obviously well trained, because their fanned formation made it strategically simple to repel an ambush from either flank. Each gunman cradled an AK-47 automatic assault rifle and was equipped with a mini-headset and throat microphone.
They watched the terrorists steadily advance on the mansion. The gunmen halted at the edge of the large lawn, dropped to their stomachs, and crawled over the grass with their rifles pushed ahead.
A flock of winged creatures suddenly gathered overhead like a foreboding thunderhead and eclipsed the summer sun. As Nick expected, they descended at a terrific speed and attacked the stunned terrorists. Dozens of gargoyles, their great leathery wings and keen jade claws glimmering in the late afternoon light, easily shredded the screaming men before they could rise and defend themselves. Sporadic rifle bursts, mixed with the terrified shrieks and throaty gargoyle growls, reverberated throughout the forest.
Four survivors slipped past the gargoyle ranks and retreated into the forest where Nick, Hugo, and Fritz waited impatiently. The terrorists plowed through the undergrowth like charging bull elephants. There was no need for a quiet withdrawal; their cover was blown. The lead terrorist reached Fritz’s stakeout. The human spark plug jumped out from behind a bramble bush, collared the shocked terrorist, and on a full run, rammed his spine into a tree fifteen feet away. There was a sickening crack, and the lifeless terrorist slumped to the ground.
Nick holstered his Glock, because he wanted to take at least one of the gunmen alive. Another terrorist flew by Nick’s position, but he didn’t get far. Nick tackled the man from behind, sending him and his AK-47 sprawling in different directions
. The gunman recovered quickly. He rolled, leaped up, and nailed Nick’s jaw with a karate kick. As Nick staggered backward, the man slipped a serrated combat knife from his boot and charged while Nick was still dazed.
Nick deflected the man’s first few thrusts before diving at his legs. They tumbled to the ground and struggled for control of the knife. The terrorist managed to yank his knife hand free and plunged the weapon toward Nick’s heart. But the blade harmlessly penetrated the soft ground. Nick had vanished beneath the gunman, and before the shocked man could gather his wits, Nick reappeared behind him and brought the butt of his Glock down on the back of his neck. The terrorist crumpled to the ground, unconscious.
Hugo stepped out from behind a thick oak, wrapped an arm around the next terrorist’s throat, and broke his neck. The fourth terrorist ran past them and headed deeper into the forest. Nick was about to give chase when Fritz waved him off.
“Don’t bother,” he said. “The man’s as good as dead.”
A white blur caught Nick’s eye as he watched the retreating gunman disappear into the thick underbrush. It was Kamool giving chase. A moment later, hysterical screams echoed in the forest. Then, silence.
Nick smiled. “I see what you mean.” He grabbed his prisoner by the belt and dragged him back to the mansion. He ordered Gabriella’s magical house to restrain the prisoner until the FBI arrived from Columbus to take him into custody. Later, when the terrorist awoke, he found himself imprisoned in a cage with thick, hissing snakes for bars. The terrorist scooted to the center of the cage and hugged his knees, not daring to move.
Glenna hugged each of them upon their return. “Wonderful job, boys, but that was child’s play compared to what’s in store for us tonight,” she warned.
The Ancient Breed Page 36
