Undead on Arrival

by L. A. Banks

  “Then, if the man is having a familiar vision, shouldn’t you take over the wheel before we catch our deaths by vehicular homicide?” Bradley yelled at Fisher.

  “Sasha wants us off the streets ASAP,” Woods said in a faraway voice.

  “I like how the captain thinks,” Winters said, growing nervous with the others.

  “Send in Bear Shadow and Crow Shadow as armed guards . . . get the blood sample to a base, any base we’re close to, and use the protocol code to give Clarissa and Winters unrestricted access to systems . . . use that to deploy a don’t-ask, don’t-tell special-ops cover so MPs let us through with Bear and Crow, and will cover us in a firefight.” Woods finally slumped forward, holding the wheel tightly, then wiped sweat off his brow with the back of his forearm.

  He looked at Fisher the instant Clarissa braced herself. Both soldiers drew weapons at the same time, making the truck violently swerve. Something heavy hit the roof. Bradley picked up the M40 Remington rifle that had been at his feet, pointed up, and fired. Clarissa got to the center of the truck holding a nine-millimeter just as an arm came crashing through the side.

  “Vampires!” she yelled, squeezing off rounds as Bradley and Winters scrambled away from the back flap.

  Something landed on the hood, causing Woods and Fisher to open up their clips and send silver shells through the windshield. Glass spiderwebbed into a frosted pane as both soldiers made a direct hit that sent burning embers over the front of the vehicle, blinding them to the road. Within seconds, two predators had opened the back flap, scrambling like fast-moving crabs.

  But before they could reach out their razor-sharp claws, the vehicle lurched hard, then pitched and came down hard, still hurtling forward from momentum as Woods fought against a hard rollover. The sound of metal scraping asphalt screamed from the bottom of the vehicle only seconds before the axle came through the floor, goring one Vampire. A huge dark wolf sailed through the flap before the second Vampire could disappear, tearing out his chest cavity with an angry growl. The truck came to a groaning stop. The smell of gasoline changed wolves into men. No words were necessary, no further shots fired as Bear Shadow grabbed Clarissa and Winters, practically tossing them by the scruffs of their necks to Crow Shadow on the ground, and then got Bradley out.

  Woods and Fisher had already bailed and were on their way around the side of the vehicle when the group started running a breakneck hundred-yard dash. A huge kaboom and a flash of heat sent the group onto their stomachs in the marshy grasses along the side of the road. Flying debris and shrapnel whirred over their heads, and the sound of rounds going off and metal hitting concrete added into the impact.

  For several minutes, nobody moved. Finally Bear Shadow and Woods lifted their heads.

  “Everybody okay?” Woods shouted, his worried gaze assessing the group.

  One by one squad members gave verbal confirmation and began to move.

  Fisher was on his feet with Crow and Bear, helping everybody up. His gaze went toward the destroyed truck. “All that fucking new equipment we just hauled—damn!”

  “You’re lucky no civilians were driving near that, or we’d be pulling dead bodies out and explaining to grieving relatives, man. You can get more weapons, but damn,” Bear Shadow said in a low rumble.

  Fisher raked dirt and leaves out of his hair, still shaken. “They blew the tank, man. They were gonna burn us alive in there. Fry us!”

  “Only after they figured out you had the sample and any evidence for the trial still on you,” Crow Shadow said, winded. “Vampires can smell blood even better than we can. They knew it was in the truck—so you and the truck were obviously a problem.”

  “Trial?” Bradley peered around, his gaze moving like a ferret’s.

  Bear Shadow nodded. “The United Council of Entities tribunal. Right now they’ve got Hunter, Sasha, the doctor, Silver Hawk, and—”

  “Hold it,” Woods said, checking his clip. “That’s bullshit! They’ve got the captain and our man, Doc, plus two friendlies? Do they know they’re fucking with the USMC? In two seconds I make one call to the Joint Readiness Center over at Fort Polk NAS about two miles up the road, plus Barksdale AFB, and I say a missile-ready F-18 plus a coupla Black Hawks—”

  “It might come to that,” Bear Shadow said, holding Woods’s forearm as he whipped a cell phone out of his pocket. “But not yet. Right now they’re being held by neutral and fair parties. Sasha was clear—she wanted us to get the sample to the lab, evidence secured, and eventually Doc back to help come up with an antidote for Shogun.” He hung his head, his massive shoulders a network of sinew beneath a fall of onyx hair. “But we were too damned late.”

  “Saving our asses wasn’t such a bad thing, dude,” Winters said, still glancing around like a nervous rabbit. He whipped a flash drive out of his pocket. “If you need Fairy testimony, I’ve got the tape from the Tulane incident on digital.”

  “Let’s say it sometimes pays to have second sight,” Clarissa said, extracting a vial of blood from between her ample breasts. “Sorry, guys, it was the only place I could think to stash it where I couldn’t get pick-pocketed by a Phantom, or have it break.”

  “I could kiss you,” Crow Shadow said with a weary sigh.

  Clarissa smiled and gave Crow Shadow an appreciative once-over. “And I might let you.”

  “This blast probably already has MPs en route—I’m calling in,” Woods said. “We need to get a lift to NAS and get these guys to a computer fast.” He looked at Bear Shadow and Crow Shadow. “Thanks for the assist. Seriously. That’s the third time you’ve pulled me and Fisher’s asses out of the fire.”

  “You’re family,” Bear said, grabbing Woods’s forearm in a warrior’s embrace. “You’re pack. That’s what we do.”

  Winters shook his head. “All this is real cool, most appreciated,” he said, nodding toward the quickly approaching headlights on the road. “But I suggest they do their Shadow thing and meet up with us later dressed in stolen uniforms or something. It’s gonna be harder to explain what happened to the authorities if these guys are buck naked.”

  As quickly as the crowd had gathered, it dispersed. The Fae retinue of guards and soldiers marched the group forward, seeming alert but also at ease. Their confidence in being able to handle the situation had a strangely calming effect. As bizarre as it was, Sasha felt a low, buzzing peace fall over her, as though she’d been lightly sedated. She glanced around; even Hunter and Silver Hawk’s lids appeared heavy. When she glanced at Lei, the woman was practically stumbling through the underbrush, as docile as could be.

  Enchantment . . . whoa. She’d never underestimate the Fae’s military prowess again in her life.

  Sasha tried to rub the haze from her eyes as the group proceeded forward in a steady, quiet march through the bayou. Then suddenly the captain of the guards drew a small pouch out of his vest pocket and began flinging a golden dust out before them. Tiny sparkles shimmered in the moonlight and gently floated down to coat the ground in a multihued glitter. Sasha again rubbed her eyes as the path they’d been on split, trees and underbrush landmarks appeared to move, and the scent all around them became a gentle, floral, and thoroughly untraceable foreign odor.

  “That is awesome,” she said, suddenly giggling. Oh, yeah, whatever they flung around definitely had an effect. Shogun had slapped Hunter five?

  “Glad you like it, lassie. A little Fairy dust and enchantment is good for the soul,” the Fae captain said. “If I told you Welcome to Oz, that would be too corny, so how about Welcome to Forte Shannon of Inverness?”

  His piercing blue eyes seeming to twinkle with delight at her compliment as he walked forward straight, tall, and proud. He then flung his long spill of brunette ponytail woven with silver bands over his shoulder and began running in a dizzying zigzag pattern while the other Fae archers held up their hands for the group to wait.

  To the amazement of the uninitiated, a cobbled path opened in the moonlight shrouded by mist. The Fae captain st
ood in the middle of it and called out in a loud, strong voice, “Lower the drawbridge!”

  “Oh, shit . . . ,” Sasha murmured in complete rapture as a huge, stone thirteenth-century-like castle slowly became visible.

  Turrets and catwalks were populated with milling soldiers. A massive moat filled with muddy water and clearly ravenous gators yawned before them. Slowly, a wide iron plank groaned open to bang against the stones close to the Fae captain’s feet. Then seemingly out of nowhere, three unicorn-riding guardsmen galloped forward.

  Sasha stared at the black, chestnut, and snow-white horses, each bearing a silver-lance-carrying rider whose long tresses matched the slightly glowing coats of his mount. It was almost worth getting locked up to witness this, she thought with another quiet giggle. The buzz that came along with it wasn’t half bad, either.

  “Sir Rodney,” the rider on the black unicorn said, trotting forward. He bowed and his unicorn bowed, then the Fae captain returned the graceful gesture. “Your orders?”

  “No harm is to come to any of these guests. They may be under our house arrest, but my instincts say there’s been foul play. Too many were eager to see their demise. I have been in contact with good Ethan, who owns The Fair Lady in town . . . be sure that he, his lovely wife, Margaret, as well as his children are also brought in under protective custody. The Fairies will not testify, as you know, but they’ve been thoroughly mortified by events that have taken place in their gardens. That is a matter for later.” Rodney turned and looked at Shogun with sad eyes. “But this guest may have the moon sickness. We hope not, but we must be prepared for that eventuality, as much as I hate to remand him to the lower chambers.”

  “We’ll prepare the dungeons—”

  “Dungeons? Dungeons!” Lei shrieked. “Do you know who this is? He is a VIP, the . . .” Her voice trailed off as Sir Rodney extracted a fistful of shimmering powder and blew it through the small hole he’d made between his curled fingers and his palm.

  “Please keep that man as comfortable as possible during his unfortunate stay . . . as well as his sister,” Sir Rodney said with a weary sigh. “She, however, may need restraints when she wakes up.”

  He looked at Sasha, Hunter, and then Silver Hawk, pointing toward Xavier Holland. “That man is a doctor. One of the best. The contagion that the Southeast Asian Clan leader received was through an accidental infection during battle between two males—this was a domestic, personal issue that no one should be put to death for, especially since frightened Fairies had a hand in it. We, the Fae, have an obligation to assist in righting this wrong. The doctor has been separated from his lab and his human medical colleagues . . . maybe if we afford him what he needs, a catastrophe can be averted. Ethan’s wife, Margaret, can help—bring her here. She’s an adept healer.”

  Just that quickly, the rider of the black unicorn turned with the others, gave Sir Rodney a swift nod, and galloped off. Sasha watched the ground, perplexed. She heard hooves clatter across the cobbled path, but their hooves never touched it as they rose steadily and disappeared into the moonlight.

  “That is just soooo cool,” she murmured, gaping behind their misty trail.

  The moment they stepped onto the heavy iron drawbridge, Sasha felt she’d gone back in time. A small, bustling medieval village lay behind the high, protective fort walls under a winking blanket of stars. Soldiers peered at them with curiosity, as did gawking Elves, sparkling plumes of Fairies, grimy little Gnomes, and a few irate miniature Trolls. Tiny bodies were everywhere, all holding handmade brooms and pointing small sticks at them, only lowering the wands once they’d safely passed their vendor stalls or storefronts.

  Tall, proud Elves frowned their disdain as the group went by, and a few Hags gathered their damp toads and bundles of struggling, tied bats in close as though the passing prisoners might swipe one to eat off their stands without paying. That’s when Sasha realized that the two battling male wolves had transitioned back into their human forms naked. It was a natural occurrence in the wolf packs—but in the Fae community, seeing two buff prisoners of war promenading under archer guard in the raw had to be scandalous. A smile tugged at her cheek. Oh, yeah, she had to be high on fairy dust. Everything around her was so absurdly surreal, she wanted to laugh.

  “Once inside the castle, you’ll be able to rest,” Sir Rodney said in a cheerful tone. “It’s been a long while since we’ve had prisoners. We generally remain neutral in all disputes, and most are solved with mortal combat anyhow, so there’s normally no one to bring in for a stay.”

  As they walked, he motioned with his chin up to a tower that seemed miles away. Two huge, shadowy things with long necks and tails and bat wings were circling the endlessly tall structure in the mist, but were so distant that Sasha squinted trying to make out what they were.

  “Griffin Dragons,” Sir Rodney said with obvious pride in his voice. “Pets on loan to us from The Order of the Dragon—they don’t transform into human form, you know. Though they do enjoy . . . uhmmm . . . remains. Make for great guard dogs. But they’ll be so disappointed that there won’t be anyone staying in the tower to play with. We always ask for the scraps after battles for them, of course. Our way of recycling and being environmentally responsible to the forest, our mother.”

  Glances of instant understanding passed among the members of the leisurely imprisoned group. Even Lei seemed to gather that Sir Rodney was offering them a quiet threat. It was no doubt his way of diplomatically explaining that any breach of conduct and the offender could be eaten alive or hunted down like a mad dog by a hulking Griffin Dragon. Given the size of what was flying around the tower in the mist, even a deranged, demon-infected Werewolf would be kibble for one of those monsters. Same deal with the moat—the thick bodies moving through the mud were bigger than anything she’d ever seen in Louisiana.

  He didn’t need to tell them twice. Sasha nodded and her gaze met Sir Rodney’s with open respect. She’d definitely never underestimate the Fae again. In truth, this little walk through their world was growing on her. She liked their style as much as she liked their easy, down-home manner. Their magic was outrageously effective. It was just the Trolls and Hags she wasn’t sure about. She wondered what other ethnic groups resided here, but decided now wasn’t the time to ask.

  The retinue of guards brought them to a halt before massive, wooden castle doors that slowly opened. Several Gnomes rushed out with long silver spears, then bowed and stepped aside once they saw Sir Rodney.

  Again, the group merely gaped as they entered a great hall with an apparently endless vaulted ceiling that almost kissed the sky. Huge lanterns flickered as though powered by the dust of Fairies. Wide, polished slate sections created a mosaic pattern of beauty on the stone floors. Stained-glass windows with knights in battles flanked the spiral staircase and gracefully moved through scenes as though reenacting an age-old epic. A warm fire roared from a huge walk-in fire-place tended by little people who seemed in a perpetual hurry. Empty silver suits of armor saluted as they passed the foyer into the great hall. Music from lyres and flutes sent a joyful noise through the castle from an unknown source. That alone almost made Sasha fall asleep where she was standing, were it not for the rumble in her stomach caused by the delicious scent of grilling meats.

  “These men will show you all your accommodations,” Sir Rodney said, splitting the group of guards into two sections with a wave of his hand. Half the retinue guided Sasha, Hunter, Doc, and Silver Hawk toward the stairs. The other half moved Lei and Shogun toward a heavy stone door covered in iron bars and huge locks.

  “Baths will be drawn in your rooms, platters of food brought to you all. New clothing. Medical attention to tend your wounds . . . we have expert healers on staff. Rest, after what you’ve experienced, is important.”

  He looked at Shogun with compassion. “We will treat you equally as well, my friend. Don’t worry. Food, baths, comfortable bedding—albeit behind bars and away from moonlight—will be afforded you and your sister. We w
ill allow the doctor to visit, and the others . . . I take it you all have much to discuss. But we need to be sure certain precautions are observed. No offense ever intended.”

  “None taken,” Shogun said, proudly lifting his head and staring at the dungeon door. “I actually prefer it that way.”

  Torn, Sasha gazed at Shogun’s profile, then slowly dragged her eyes away. Conflict ate at her. A part of her stood with Hunter and her Shadow family, yet she couldn’t help her feelings for Shogun, even though they defied definition . . . each one impossible to describe even to herself. All she was sure of at the moment was that she couldn’t abandon the man to the fate of an infected Werewolf Turn.

  No matter what, he was a friend, and deserved a much more dignified end than that.

  CHAPTER 14

  Sasha didn’t argue when the guards insisted that they each go to their own rooms first, then call for an escort if they wanted to visit another prisoner. As house arrest went, this wasn’t bad at all. Even Hunter seemed all right with it once they’d explained that he would indeed be able to confer with his family members. Cooperating was easier than resistance at this juncture.

  Sasha made quick work of jumping into and getting out of a steaming tub of luxuriously soapy water that almost melted her bones. It left a smooth, creamy residue on her skin. The Fae knew how to do enchantments, all right, right down to hand-tooled leather pants and an ivory silk blouse with billowing sleeves. Wasn’t her style, the blouse, but felt fantastic on the skin.

  Hand-cobbled boots that the Elves left fit like a soft glove. Although they’d confiscated her firearm, they’d given her a small silver dagger engraved with mesmerizing Gaelic symbols—they obviously trusted her. Or they knew whom she’d most likely want to see . . . it had to be Sir Rodney’s way of ensuring that she didn’t become collateral damage at the hands of a Werewolf contagion outbreak.

  Sasha tried not to gulp as she stood by the table, shamelessly shoving forkfuls of grilled pheasant into her mouth, along with wild rice and the sweetest carrots and peas drenched in butter she’d ever had in her life. If anyone was watching her, it was a total lie that she was eating so fast to get quickly to a conversation with Hunter and Silver Hawk, or even Doc. Any of those talks were going to be hard and emotionally draining. The raw truth was she was famished.