Dreams and Nightmares

Farmer and I kept the Mexican standoff for a few moments as my mind processed the bombshell Farmer just laid on me. Elizabeth was alive! I looked into Farmer’s eyes, needing to see if there was any deception, and terrified that there might be. He didn’t flinch away. It was almost as if he knew what I was searching for, and he opened himself up to my inspection. There was no deception. Elizabeth was alive! All of the emotions I had so carefully packed away flooded my mind. It took most of my reserve to carefully holster my pistol. As soon as the weapon was put away, my legs let go and I dropped to the floor. The lycanthrope I just captured rushed to try and catch me. Vanessa and Farmer just watched me crumple down. All of that deep, dark fear that tormented me had crystallized into a relief and joy so strong my mind just could not cope. I had seen others overcome by emotion, but I never truly understood what was happening to them. Now I did.

“The Lady-Apparent’s alive?” I forced out. Farmer knelt down next to me. There was no emotion on his face, nothing that I could grasp onto.

“She’s alive,” Farmer answered, “She’s alive, and she’s fighting.” I don’t know why, but that statement made me so proud of Elizabeth. I quickly slammed the pride back down. My professionalism and cynicism reared up. I couldn’t even be sure that Elizabeth felt the same way I did. She must have been going through hell fighting against the vampires. A new and vile emotion appeared – guilt. Where the hell had I been when she needed me? Going up to worthless Tallahassee and ending up on a fucking worthless mission?

“Let’s go,” I said, finally standing back up, “Let’s get to her now.” Vanessa stood in front of me.

“Stop it Mark,” Vanessa said, “We still have a job to do.”

“It’s not a job, it’s a mission or an operation,” I retorted, “What the fuck? We both know that the mission is a suicide operation.” Vanessa firmly placed her hand on my chest as I tried to move past her.

“You want to get the State Guild down here?” Vanessa asked with a surgically precise tone, “We need to finish this.” She motioned to the books.

“The State Guild?” Farmer asked, “What do you mean?” Vanessa quickly recapped what we were doing in Tampa and what the State Guildmaster told me. I slumped into Vanessa’s vacant chair. Dammit, I knew she was right, but why did she have to be right at this moment.

“Vanessa, right?” Farmer asked, “You’re right. We need the help. You and Ranger will stay here and find that emissary’s report.” Farmer pointed at the other lycanthrope. “Carl, you stay here and help them. As soon as you find it, get it back to Safe house Bravo.” Carl nodded with dogged determination.

“Ranger, would you walk outside with me?” Farmer asked as Vanessa and Carl grabbed up books and began reading. I nodded. The two of us walked out of the stacks and into the stairwell. Half way down the stairs, Farmer turned to me. “I’m assuming you went to Tallahassee on the Guildmaster’s orders.”

“Do you think anything else would have gotten us out of Hillsborough?” I asked angrily.

“Nope, but I had to be sure,” Farmer said, “Your disappearance was hard on the Lady-Apparent. She’s worked damn hard not to let it show in front of the packs, but she let her guard down in front of me. I need someplace quiet and safe before you show back up. I just don’t know what she’s going to do. Hell, I wasn’t expecting that reaction out of you.” I snorted.

“Yeah, well I really haven’t been my normal badass self, lately” I quipped half-heartedly.

“None of us have,” Farmer mused with an eerily dark tone, “None of us were sure what happened to you. I thought you, Nick, and Hangman were dead. The Lady-Apparent kept insisting that you were alive. If any of the shamans had made it through, I would’ve had them scrye to make sure.” He paused, momentarily locked in deep thought. Then his head shot up with a strong look of determination.

“Listen to me Ranger, there are only a hundred or so lycanthropes left, and I’m the only hunter left. I’ve been working with the few hunter-trained pack warriors that somehow escaped the siege of the Manor, but we’re hanging on by the tips of our claws. The only thing that has been keeping the lycanthropes going for the past month has been the Lady-Apparent. I need more help. I need the State Guild.”

“Understood boss,” I told him without a trace of sarcasm, “We’ll get you what you need.”

“Good. Hopefully I’ll be able to find a nice place for the Lady-Apparent tonight,” Farmer said.

“The Guild’s already been compromised?” I asked. The Guild was perhaps the most defensible lycanthrope stronghold in the county. I was surprised that Farmer wasn’t using it.

“We can’t get into it,” Farmer said, “I lost my phone in the siege and none of the other hunters survived to unlock it.”

“I think I can solve that particular problem.” The mischievous smile on my face was the first time I felt like my old self since before I left for Tallahassee. Farmer nodded with a hint of an understanding smile on his stoic face. He turned and walked down the steps. I went back upstairs to join Vanessa and Carl. I did have one major question that needed to be answered. Something that was really bothering me.

Vanessa smiled as I approached, and then gave me a horrified look as I yanked Carl out of his seat. I pulled him between two stacks and thrust my pistol into his stomach. Carl tried a few limp strikes, but he was too off-guard and unable to focus enough to remember what he had been taught. Vanessa stood up and shielded us from view. She didn’t know what was going on, but she knew enough to trust me.

“How the fuck did you know where we were?” I asked with a menacing calm tone, “Too few of you left in the county to risk putting eyes on the campus. You had some help, and I want to know who sold us out.”

“I don’t know,” Carl said, somehow managing to keep his voice steady, “Farmer just rounded up me and my team and told us we were going to USF. I didn’t even know that you were the target until we got here.” He wasn’t lying. The good news it was one of Farmer’s contacts that informed on Vanessa and me.

Hunters always keep a coterie of contacts in the various worlds we work in. Most of mine were scattered amongst the human world, some kin, and some vampire. Why I was relieved that it was one of Farmer’s contacts was simple – hunters screen their contacts, because our lives can depend on what those contacts tell us. I was worried that one of the pack warriors had gotten a phone call. Anonymous contacts like that was a pretty good way to try and draw out high value targets. Like say, the hunter current acting as the Guildmaster, or even the Lady-Apparent herself.

I holstered my USP and gave Carl a slight shove back to the table. Until I figured out the current politics amongst the lycanthropes, I could trust only the few that I might know. Carl was not one of those I could trust. So, let him think I was an asshole, as long as he was sure I was a very dangerous asshole. Sometimes it was better to be feared than loved.

Carl and Vanessa returned to scouring the books on the table. I picked up the one I had been working on, but I couldn’t focus on the damn thing. Ancestors, she was alive! Joy and relief still coursed through me. Still, there was a dark fear flowing under my happy thought. It had been nearly a month since I last saw Elizabeth, and I didn’t know where, or if, I stood with her then. A month of desperate fighting and trying to keep herself – and all of the remaining lycanthropes in the county – alive. Would she hate me for abandoning the county? Was there anything there in the first place? Farmer seemed to think so, and so did Nick. I trusted them, but there was still an unrealness to the idea that made me think I was just imagining it all.

“Oh bloody hell,” Vanessa snarled. The sudden words startled me back to the library. A stab of guilt quickly melted to relief as I realized that Vanessa was cursing at a book and not my inattention to the work. She held the book in front of her with an angered look of disbelief.

“What’s the matter Vanessa?” I asked, quickly covering my lapse.

“Well, I found the emissary’s report, but it’s encoded,” Vanessa said, turning the book so that Carl and I could see. It looked like a standard report of a meeting with one of the prince’s advisors.

“Are you sure?” Carl asked. Vanessa shot the pack warrior a scathing look. It was the look of an irate professional being questioned by a new amateur.

“Yes, I am quite sure,” Vanessa said with a deadly drawl to her words, “The time is right. And this glyph,” she pointed to a Cyrillic looking character in the top right of the first page, “Is the cipher key.”

“How do you know that?” Carl asked dumbfounded.

“Because I developed the system five years ago,” Vanessa said, “It’s going to take time to decode this.” She began pulling out her laptop. I motioned for her to stop.

“How long will it take?” I asked.

“For a report this long? At least three hours. Maybe as long as six hours,” Vanessa answered, “Depends on if they played with my ciphers.” From the look on Vanessa’s face, I guessed it was pretty likely that they had. Which would make Vanessa even more determined to break whatever the court recorders had done to her precious code. I looked at the time display on my cell phone. Six hours was going to be too long.

“Vanessa, get a hold of the Williams kid and get him over here to check out the books you need,” I said. I held up my hand to stop the argument before Vanessa could voice it. “Yes, I know that it will probably send out some kind of flag back to the capital, but we may actually need that. Carl, did you bring your car?” The pack warrior nodded, obviously confused by the non sequitur. “Good. Give me the keys. You are going to guard Vanessa until the two of you meet back up with me.”

As Carl dug out his keys, Vanessa leaned over to me, “What is going on, Mark? It’s not like you to foist me off onto someone else. Especially someone you don’t consider good enough.”

“I can help the lycanthropes here, but it’s going to take time,” I answered, “I need you to get packed up because I don’t want you out before nightfall. Even three hours will put you out too close for comfort.” Vanessa’s scrunched expression told me that she didn’t like it, but she understood. “Stay with Carl. I’ll call you as soon as I can to let you know what to do and where to go.” Vanessa gave me a quick nod, and then began packing up. Carl told me where and what his car was, and I trotted out of the library as fast as I could.

Carl’s car was your basic sedan, which was great for where I was going. Locating the Guild in the suburbs was risky. Having people coming and going at all hours of the day and night tended to bring unwanted attention from suspicious neighbors. We got around that by burying the Guild under an entire block of homes, instead of the traditional one or two. As I drove up to one of the homes, I noticed that most of the homes on the block were vacant. The kin that we recruited to occupy the homes above the Guild weren’t stupid. Most were packing up the moment that Nick, Hangman, and I left and sealed the Guild.

A phone call woke up the Guild’s central systems. There was a barely perceptible rumble in the ground. The thick concrete barriers were sliding away from the entrances into the Guild. Procedure said that it would take a minimum of one hour for the Guild to vent itself out and bring up all of the necessary control systems. I waited the twenty minutes for the air to be breathable and the electricity to reengage. I’d like to chalk it up to a desperate need to get the Guild ready to receive Hillsborough’s lycanthropes – and that was true to a fault – but the bigger reason was I just couldn’t wait around that long.

The main computer was in the middle of booting up as I walked into the familiar concrete structure. Pangs of sorrow and lost hit me as I faced the cavernous emptiness that used to be the main planning and operations control of the Hunters Guild. I just shook my head as I walked around the first floor to secure some of the more sensitive information. The first floor was always so frenetic during the war with the vampire. Even when Nick, Hangman, and I were sealing the Guild and no other hunters were in the facility that same frenetic energy still remained. The other floors were musty, but livable. It was time to bring everyone home.

My first call was to Farmer. Of all the lycanthropes, the Lady-Apparent was the one that needed to get to the safety of the Guild first. Farmer just acknowledged that the Guild was ready for the Lady-Apparent. Sudden jolts of irrational fear shot through me, but I pushed them aside. The Lady-Apparent needed me to be professional, not some kind of sappy, love-struck follower. After I got off the phone with Farmer, I called Vanessa. She was annoyed that I had disappeared, but she knew me well enough that I had good reason.

Vanessa and Carl arrived first. Carl was in awe as I led the two of them down into the Guild. For the pack warriors, the Guild was always kept as a mysterious facility where the county’s trained killers worked and trained. It was an image the Hunters Guild cultivated. I gave Carl the task of patrolling the lower levels of the Guild while I set Vanessa up in one of the conference rooms. In her normal efficient self, Vanessa quickly set up her system and quickly scanning in the encoded report. Not knowing what else to do, I sat down in one of the chairs and tried to patiently wait for the arrival of the Lady-Apparent.

Thirty endless minutes passed before Farmer led a small convoy to the Guild. My hands began to shake as I watched Elizabeth step out of a sedan. She cut her hair, was the first thought that ran through my mind. Her auburn curls that had once cascaded halfway down her back now hung straight and just above her shoulders. I watched her in the security monitor with rapt attention. I didn’t even notice when Vanessa came up behind me and spun me around. The brush was straightening my hair before I knew what was happening.

“Tuck your shirt in, damn it,” Vanessa hissed as she continued to fiddle with my mess of hair, “At least try to make yourself presentable. At least you wore a nice shirt for a change.” I followed Vanessa’s stream of instructions as she fiddled with my clothes, hair, and anything else that she felt needed attention. The last thing she did was to grab my face in her hands and give me one last piece of advice, “Do me a favor and don’t screw this up.” I couldn’t even respond before I heard Farmer’s voice on the other side of the conference room door.

“Yes milady, the lycanthrope responsible for unsealing the Guild is right here,” Farmer boomed. It sounded unnatural, but I was grateful for the warning. The door opened and Elizabeth was standing there. For a brief, but almost eternal, moment I was unable to move or speak. I could only look at her. She took a hesitant step into the conference room, and then another. I saw Vanessa flee the room and Farmer shut the door, but they weren’t really important. All that was important was the one standing in front of me.

She crossed the room, each step becoming more confident. Her green eyes were questioning, almost as if she didn’t believe what she was seeing. I stifled the urge to swallow nervously and took the few steps to stand in front of her. Her hands danced along my arms, my chest, my shoulders, and came to rest on my face. It took all my strength not to succumb to the dizzy intoxication of her scent, and the warm smoothness of her hands. We just stood there looking into each other’s eyes, silently reassuring the other that we were really there.

The room blurred as the heavy slap landed across my face. I turned back to find a fearsome expression on Elizabeth’s face. Surprised and unsure, I stood there paralyzed as a second, and then a third slap struck me. I jerked back into action and caught the fourth slap. Elizabeth’s entire body went limp and collapsed into mine. The unnerving sound of her sobbing shook me harder than her outburst of violence. All I could do was wrap my arms around her and cradle her.

“Where did you go?” Elizabeth whispered between sobs, “Why weren’t you here?” They were simple questions, devoid of any accusation, but I felt the shame blaze inside of me. I knew intellectually that I was under orders to leave Hillsborough, but this one’s simple pleading… I knew that I made a mistake. I should have stayed. I should have done whatever it took to not cause this one so much pain. I couldn’t answer her questions, so I just pulled her closer. Elizabeth reacted fiercely by pushing against my chest. I don’t know exactly what I tripped on, but I felt myself falling backwards – and I still had Elizabeth firmly in my grasp.

My breath whooshed out of me as I was sandwiched between the lightly carpeted floor and Elizabeth. The door to the room slammed open as Elizabeth’s sole Red Knight came charging in at the crashing sound of two lycanthropes hitting the floor. The unfamiliar Knight gave the two of us a look of scandalized horror. I just tilted my head so that I could look the Knight in the eyes. As levelly as I could, I told the Knight, “Do you mind? We’re in the middle of a conversation.”

The Knight’s expression went from scandalized to indignant. He was a young Knight – he couldn’t have been more than a few years out of tysach. Probably more full of piss, vinegar, and propriety than common sense. Come to think of it, that described most of the Knights that I dealt with. The Knight didn’t say anything, but his hand darted to the pistol holstered at his side. My eyes narrowed and fixed him with a glare of pure menace.

“If you don’t quit touching that, I’m going to shove it up your ass and fire every fucking round in the magazine,” I said. The Knight blanched, but to his credit, he stood his ground.

“Milady, is this hunter harming you?” the Knight asked his voice full of forced calm and confidence. Elizabeth squirmed on top of me to face her bodyguard. It was uncomfortably pleasant. My self control was strained not to break into a stupid grin.

“No, I’m fine,” Elizabeth answered, “Ranger just tripped, and unfortunately took me with him.” The Knight’s hand came away from his pistol, but he didn’t look very convinced. “Gregory, trust me. I’m perfectly fine. This one always sounds worse than he is, but he won’t let any harm come to me. I’ll be perfectly safe. Now, leave us alone.” The Knight shifted his look between Elizabeth and me, clearly torn between his duty to follow his lady and his duty to protect her. Elizabeth looked down at me, and slapped my chest. “Ranger, quit scowling at my Knight.”

The Knight must have been satisfied that Elizabeth had me under control, because he carefully backed out of the room and carefully closed the door. I looked up into Elizabeth’s waiting eyes. There was a humor in them. The encounter with the Knight broke some of the tension between us. Instinct took over, and I reached up to her beautiful face with a trembling hand. She nuzzled against my palm, and some of my confidence returned. I pulled her face down to mine and kissed her. Sort of. Fortunately, Elizabeth knew more of what to do than I did. For the record, it was not my first kiss, but it wasn’t far removed. Very few females would even dare dalliances with a Badmoon, even in the crazy times of tysach.

I finally figured out what I was supposed to do and kept up with Elizabeth’s frenzied pace. Time stopped and blazed by as the Elizabeth’s hands explored my body, and I returned the favor. My hands found the first button of her blouse and popped it open. Her hands stopped roaming my torso and slammed into my shoulders. “Stop!”

“Okay,” I said, confused. I let my arms drop to my side, “What did I do wrong?”

“Just stop,” Elizabeth said softly. She clamored off of me and sat down in one of the chairs. I sat up and watched her for any signs of what I had done. Elizabeth just gave me the warmest and most loving look that I had ever seen. The kind of look that made me think I could just sit there in that room forever. “Ancestors, I’ve been waiting so long. Damn it.”

“What’s the matter?” I asked sliding up next to her. She put a soft hand on my face and gave me another of those looks.

“Me,” she answered, with a hint of sadness, “I’m the Lady-Apparent. The Lady of this county for all practical purposes.” The warm look evaporated. “I cannot allow myself to be soiled by an affair with a lycanthrope who is not my mate.” I flinched at the words, but I knew the truth behind them. Lycanthropes were very strict on affairs outside of the mated pair. Some intimacy was expected when lycanthropes dated, but the lines were clearly set out during tysach. Lycanthropes were forced from the packs for breaking the taboo. It was even more demanding upon the aristocracy.

“I’m sorry,” I ventured, not really sure at what to say, “I’ll leave you alone.” I began to stand up, but Elizabeth’s hand fell on my arm.

“No, don’t go,” she said, “It’s not your fault.” She looked deeply into my eyes. “Do you know how long I’ve waited for you?”

“No,” I answered, “I’m still having trouble with the whole idea that the Lady-Apparent has a thing for me. It’s not exactly something I have had a whole lot of experience with.” Elizabeth laughed. It was a deep laugh. The kind that unleashed all of one’s pent-up fears and sorrow.

“Do you remember meeting at your Rite of Initiation?” she asked.

“Ancestors, yes,” I answered, “I thought you were the most beautiful creature I had ever seen.” For some reason, it didn’t sound corny or sappy when I said it to her. I remember feeling that way those many years ago.

“I saw it in your eyes,” Elizabeth said, “It was so intense, it was scary and exciting all at once. It was so different than any other lycanthrope looked at me. I wanted to talk to you. I wanted to see what was behind those eyes. Then you disappeared into the Guild.” She paused for a moment. The silence was deafening.

“You know, I don’t think Daddy ever knew,” Elizabeth mused, “I know he liked you, but I don’t think he ever connected my pestering him about you to anything more than a due diligence on my part.” I was stunned. I didn’t even suspect that the Lord Vollen even knew who I was beyond the Guildmaster’s personal hitter and occasional troublemaker. Elizabeth smiled as she saw the effect her words had on me. “Jason knew. He and Bobby used to tease me relentlessly about it. Sissy thought it was like some sort of fairy tale. She didn’t understand.” Elizabeth had slid out of her chair and snuggled up next to me as she spoke. “Ancestors I miss them.” She collapsed into my arms and cried.

“I’m sorry,” Elizabeth told me as she fought to get her grief under control, “I try so hard, but then I can see their faces so clearly…” Elizabeth shook her head and looked at me with a determined look. “Listen to me Ranger, as much as I want to be with you, I can’t ignore what my lycanthropes expect of me. You’re a Badmoon, and it’s going to take a lot to overcome that in the eyes of the pack. Giving us back the Guild is going to help, but I don’t know how much.” I could have been bitter about the injustice of being a Badmoon. I could have been infuriated about how the superstitions of the packs were keeping me from being with the one I loved. Truth to tell, though, I was still feeling the warmth of finding out that all of your fears were baseless and she did love me. She. Loved. Me.

“Milady, what if I managed to bring down some help from the State Guild?” I asked. Her gorgeous green eyes went wide. In an instant, Elizabeth was kissing me ferociously. As she pulled away, it took me a moment to remember to breathe.

“You only call me Milady in front of others, Ranger,” she whispered to me, “When we’re alone, it’s Elizabeth.”

Vanessa couldn’t hide the smug smirk as she strode into the conference room. The embarrassed look on my own face didn’t help. Thankfully, Vanessa made no comment as she casually checked the process on her computer and typed in a few commands. Elizabeth was sitting demurely in one of the other chairs with Farmer sitting next to her. The Red Knight was standing in one of the corners with a disapproving look on his face. But he was carefully keeping his hand away from his pistol and carefully ignoring me.

The other three had joined Elizabeth and me in the conference room after we managed to make ourselves somewhat presentable. That took some doing considered how Elizabeth reacted to my suggestion. It was energetic to say the least. Vanessa just strode in completely satisfied with herself. Farmer just walked in unfazed. Thank the Ancestors for that stoic hunter. I didn’t really give a damn what the Knight thought.

“Milady, Farmer, this young lady with me is Vanessa Hawthorne,” I said, finally introducing my partner to the others, “She works with me in the Society of the Claw and the Fang.”

“The what?” asked Farmer.

“That’s a good question,” I replied, “Truth is I’m not really sure. From what Vanessa and I can figure out, it’s a loose collection of operatives and analysts that provide information to a lycanthrope named Blackhawk, who’s some kind of advisor to the King. Beyond that, its motives get a bit murky.” I went into a brief explanation of what happened after the fall of the Manor. I covered Nicky being deported to Nebraska, Hangman joining the State Guild, and my own recruitment into the Society. Vanessa then filled Elizabeth and Farmer on the mission that Blackhawk assigned us and why we had come down to Hillsborough.

“So, if we can make a case that valuable information that the War Council is here in Hillsborough, then the State Guildmaster would have no choice but to send forces to secure the information,” I concluded.

“I should have the report decoded in the next couple of hours,” Vanessa chimed in, “The court recorders weren’t very creative in their tinkering with my code.”

“After that, I intend to be on the phone with the State Guildmaster,” I finished, “Knowing the State Guildmaster, we should be expecting Hangman and other hunters here within the next twelve hours.”

“Assuming you find any useful information,” Farmer said flatly, “What if you don’t?” Elizabeth and Vanessa looked uncomfortable with Farmer’s scathing pragmatism.

“Then I will lie my ass off,” I answered, “The State Guildmaster can hand me over to the War Council after we kick the fucking leeches out of our county. How badly do you think they’ll actually come down on me?” Farmer smiled. It was disturbing. Some folks just shouldn’t smile.

“Okay,” Farmer said, “Milady, since this is going to take some time, I think you should get some rest. The packs will be here in a few hours. You may not have the chance later.”

“You’re probably right,” Elizabeth said resigned, “Ms. Hawthorne, thank you for your efforts. Ranger…” She just let her sentence trail off suggestively and smiled seductively. Farmer led her out of the conference room with the scowling Knight trailing behind them.

Vanessa waited for the door to shut, and then whirled on me with a mischievous smile. “Someone got his answer, from the look of things. Maybe a bit more?”

“Yeah, I got some answers,” I said, smiling, and then my face darkened, “I also got a whole bunch of new problems. Some of those will hopefully be solved once the State boys get their asses down here.” I flopped down into one of the leather chairs. My mind was clearer now. Elizabeth managed to remove all of the fear and torment that threatened my sanity for the last month. I knew where I stood, and where I wanted to stand. The trick was getting there.

“Mark, what are we going to do once we’ve confirmed the existence of the report to the State Guildmaster, and he sends down Sam and the others?” Vanessa asked as she worked on her laptop. I leaned back in the chair and thought for a few moments.

“I think some of that we’ll know once we actually know what’s in that damned report and when we actually talk to the State Guildmaster,” I answered, “The War Council should be forming. The first thing it will have to do is formally request that the Prince relinquish his throne to the Council. Depending on what the Prince does from there, it could be quick, or it could drag out for some time.”

“You’re taking the destruction of the state very calmly,” Vanessa said, “The prince is about to be deposed and a mob of county lords are going to be vying for power.”

“I really don’t give a flying fuck about the prince,” I said, “I’m sitting in a county that should have been flooded with lycanthrope warriors, shaman, and hunters. Down south are two more. He didn’t do a damn thing to help us. This is why the county lords can form a war council. It’s a hell of a lot more stable than if one lord had to personally challenge the prince, like what happens on the local level.” Vanessa eyed me appraisingly over the top of her laptop.

“This is new,” Vanessa said. She slid her chair so that she could look directly at me. “When did you become such a revolutionary?” The unspoken question was when I lost faith with my prince.

“I’m not a revolutionary,” I told her, “I just want my home back.” She gave me what could best be described as a mournful look.

The electronic ding broke a two hour silence. A deft move caught the barrel of my USP as it slipped from my fingers. Vanessa smiled at my fumble, but didn’t say anything as she perused the now-decrypted report from the emissary. I continued to oil and reassemble the USP. Vanessa’s eyes widened as she read the report. Her fingers danced across the keyboard as she began making notes.

“Mark, get on the phone right now,” Vanessa said, her eyes never leaving the screen, “Tell the State Guildmaster we found what he needs. I need him to send me a courier. He needs to see this, and I don’t want to send the file electronically.”

“What is going on Vanessa?” I asked, pulling out my phone. Vanessa looked up to answer me, but was interrupted as Carl Scenthunter barged into the room. The pack warrior was in true form, which was unusual enough.

“Ranger, you need to come immediately,” Carl pleaded. I arched my eyebrow at the pack warrior, which only increased his frantic motion for me to follow him. My instincts screamed warning signals. Something was wrong. I stood up, unconsciously holstering the USP. I dialed the State Guildmaster.

“This is Ranger,” I said tersely as the State Guildmaster answered his phone, “It’s time to fulfill the bargain.” There was no reply – the State Guildmaster simply hung up his phone. Soon, state hunters should be on their way to Hillsborough with Hangman leading the way. I smiled that I managed to accomplish that for Elizabeth.

That smile died as Carl led me into the training room on the second floor. In front of me were the hundred or so surviving lycanthropes of Hillsborough County. All were in true form. Across the room from me was Elizabeth, Farmer, and a third lycanthrope I didn’t recognize. The eight foot tall true form was shaking with indignant rage, its white fur, tinged with just a hint of gray, standing on end. The lycanthrope was loosely holding a silver dagger in his hand. There was something familiar in his stance. Elizabeth’s roan true form was braced to attack, a similar silver dagger in her hand. Farmer looked from the two snarling lycanthropes to me as I walked in behind Carl. Surprise, terror, and relief all mixed together on the normally stoic hunter’s face.

The lycanthropes turned to face me as I stepped in. I shed human for true as I walked, feeling my clothes pop and tear as my form grew and expanded. I welcomed the opening of the lycanthrope senses like a long-lost friend. I had spent far too much time in human form. The lycanthropes of Hillsborough County were still terrified from their month-long ordeal, and they were blindingly angry. What were they so angry about? The mass of lycanthropes parted, leaving me a clear avenue to Farmer, Elizabeth, and the unknown lycanthrope. Their eyes didn’t leave me.

“Well, since I seem to be the only one who doesn’t understand what is going on, would someone be kind enough to explain?” I asked, with a deadly seriousness. I really didn’t like the unknown lycanthrope holding a silver blade towards Elizabeth.

“Ranger, please, don’t interrupt this,” Elizabeth commanded with no hint of any affection in her voice. The unknown snarled a malicious and triumphant grin. His stance relaxed a bit.

“So, your corrupted lover comes to your rescue,” he spit out, “What a pathetic excuse for an aristocrat you really are.” Events snapped into place. This was a leadership challenge. I looked at Elizabeth, at her posture, at the way she was holding her weapon. Damn, she was going to lose, and her opponent could sense it. She just wasn’t projecting the needed confidence that she was going to tear this upstart apart.

“Who the fuck are you asshole?” I asked dismissively, striding to the middle of the room, “Because a shit head like you had better be real careful in whom you try to insult.” Farmer eyes went wide, but then narrowed as he realized my ploy. I flashed hand signs for him to rein Elizabeth in. If she jumped in wrong, this could all go horribly wrong.

“I am Franklin Speartooth,” the unknown lycanthrope declared, “I am the son of Lord Jaegar, the Lord of Lee County.” Oh good, my instincts were right. This was some outsider bastard trying to jump a weak county. “Even a Badmoon should know better to interfere in a challenge.” He returned to his silent challenge of wills against Elizabeth.

“You’re a fucking carpetbagger,” I said, interrupting him again. I could see the flash of pure rage in Speartooth’s eyes. “What, your daddy couldn’t trust you with his piddling county so you’re trying to take one you think is weaker? You fucking coward.” The remarks must have hit dead on, because Speartooth ignored Elizabeth and leapt at me. I watched Speartooth’s eyes as he closed the distance. His dagger swung up, and I sidestepped at the last instant. I felt the familiar burn of silver as his dagger lightly cut along my upper left arm. I needed to be blooded.

“What’s the matter Speartooth?” I asked, letting the blood course visibly down my arm, “Why are you so afraid of the words of a Badmoon?” I shot a quick look to Elizabeth. Her eyes were wide with understanding. Horrific understanding. I realized I made one critical misjudgment in my hasty plan. It was too late to try and shift the plan. The Hillsborough lycanthropes were starting to shift as Speartooth stabbed with his dagger. My hand hit just above Speartooth’s wrist and shoved the blade to the empty space next to my torso. I looked over to a lycanthrope I did know.

Pamela Tailsnatcher was the now-widowed wife of the Oak Grove pack. She despised me as a Badmoon, but the other lycanthropes respected her. She looked upon both Speartooth and me with equal disgust. If a respected lycanthrope felt that this aristocrat merited the same respect as a Badmoon, well, it was time to end this. I caught Farmer’s eye and nodded. As he bent down to speak to Elizabeth, I dodged another two dagger strikes. Speartooth really had no idea how to actually fight. Most bullies and opportunists didn’t.

“Speartooth!” Elizabeth’s voice shot clearly through the training room. “You have dared to blood one of my packs without my permission in my own county!” Speartooth stopped and turned to Elizabeth, a look of pure surprise in his eyes. A brief moment, and then I could almost see the light bulb turn on above his head as he realized what had happened. The law on lycanthropes, especially aristocrats, abusing the packs of another lord – including his hunters and shamans – was very clear. Elizabeth wasn’t a killer on her own, but I hoped—

“Hunter, you may deal with him,” Elizabeth said, the rage apparent in her voice. I knew what she wanted, but I also knew what she needed. I looked over to Farmer and he nodded at me with closed eyes. He knew what Elizabeth needed also. I heard the particular ring of silver as Speartooth let go of his dagger. He had been outmaneuvered, and he knew it. He had also seen the lack of a killer inside Elizabeth. As I turned to face him, I saw the resigned look of someone whose gambit had failed and was now steeling himself for the punishment. He was expecting maybe a beating, or at worst, some new scars as I cut him like he cut me. The poor fool.

My USP materialized in my hand. Confusion darted across Speartooth’s face. I said nothing as I pointed at his chest and gently squeezed the trigger twice. The gunfire was deafening in the enclosed space, and it was made worse by the wonderfully sensitive hearing of the true form. Blood sprayed across me as bits of Speartooth’s torso splattered the lycanthropes behind him. The packs looked at me in horror. The death of a lycanthrope at the hand of another was so firmly ingrained into us as the epitome of evil. The strongest of our taboo. Of course, even the packs realized that there were some lycanthropes that had to be “removed” from the packs because they were a danger to the packs. That didn’t change their bone-deep revulsion. I could hear the whispers from the packs as I calmly decocked my USP and returned it to the holster.

“Will anyone else attempt to fill his shoes?” Elizabeth said as the echoes of gunfire subsided. The packs looked at their lady with respect and fear. From the looks on their faces, they saw what Elizabeth needed them to see. Elizabeth used me to manipulate Speartooth into abandoning his challenge and attack me. In their eyes, it was all Elizabeth’s plan. Lycanthropes respect the strongest leader, which wasn’t always the one who was physically stronger. It was the one who walked away from the challenge. Now it was clear to the packs, and would be clear to the state when Speartooth’s body was dumped at the border. Elizabeth Vollen would not tolerate challenges during this war, and all challenges would be lethal.

“Hunter, you may return to your duties,” Elizabeth said emotionlessly. I wanted to stay, but Farmer’s expression made it very clear that I needed to retreat. I played my part, and Elizabeth was safe. Now it was time for her to play her part to pick up the pieces of her county and forge them into a single force. I bowed my head and wordlessly left the training room.

Vanessa was still making notes on the emissary report as I walked in. Her eyes didn’t even leave the monitor as I took a few steps into the room, shed true for human, and then slumped into one of the chairs. I pulled out my USP and stared at the blood-spattered weapon. I hated killing another lycanthrope. Most lycanthropes, even hunters, would be either physically ill or so wracked with guilt that they were essentially immobilized. There are even stories of lycanthropes committing suicide after accidentally killing another lycanthrope. I knew I should be feeling those emotions of guilt and self-hate, but I didn’t, and that lack of emotions worried me. Lycanthropes maybe monsters to the humans, but even the lycanthropes had things that we considered horrifying. One of those is the lycanthrope that can kill another lycanthrope without remorse.

“My God, what happened to you?” Vanessa asked, finally looking over at me. Her chair hit the wall as she rushed over to me.

“Relax, none of the blood’s mine,” I said as Vanessa examined my bloody and shredded clothing, “I had to deal with a problem. It wasn’t pretty. Did you get anything done on the report?” Vanessa was momentarily mesmerized by what I looked like. She cleared her head with a quick shake.

“Um, yeah,” Vanessa answered, “Did you call the State Guildmaster?”

“Yeah, but it was real quick,” I said, “Just long enough to let him know that we had the report and that it was significant enough to send hunters down. Just, not in that many words.” Vanessa nodded absentmindedly and went back to her laptop.

“The report gives us a lot more than we could have expected,” Vanessa stated, “Mark, it says—“ Vanessa was interrupted by the door slamming open. Farmer strode in with eyes burning in anger. I motioned for Vanessa to leave, quickly. Farmer didn’t say anything as Vanessa scooted out of the room.

“JB always said that you were one of the most reckless lycanthropes he ever had the displeasure of meeting,” Farmer said in a controlled tone, “I didn’t understand the depth of what he meant until just now.” He loomed over me, but I wasn’t all that intimidated.

“Oh what the fuck?” I shot back, “I did what was necessary.”

“Speartooth wasn’t that dangerous,” Farmer said, “You could have just injured him and that would have done it.”

“Bullshit,” I said before Farmer could continue, “War Council’s already meeting Farmer. If Elizabeth doesn’t have an unshakeable grasp of this county when they come down, she’ll lose it. What I did wasn’t pleasant, but there won’t be any doubt who rules this county when the time comes.”

“You are playing a dangerous game Ranger,” Farmer said, “I don’t like it. You won’t be doing anymore of executions in this county while I’m Guildmaster.” I nodded grudgingly. “Against my advice, the Lady-Apparent wants to see you.”

“Give me a moment to clean up,” I said. Farmer nodded and strode out of the room. Vanessa cautiously walked in after Farmer left. I told her that I would talk to her about the report, but I had to see Elizabeth first. I walked out of the conference room and took the stairs down to the quarters. I knew I had some fresh clothes in my old room. Plus, I needed a shower.

It took me about fifteen minutes to make myself somewhat presentable. My clothes were a bit musty, but they were better than bloody and torn set I was wearing when I killed Speartooth. Farmer guessed at where I was and led me back up to the first floor. One of the first things Farmer did at the Guild was put Elizabeth in the Guildmaster’s office. The suite had an office as well as a small bedroom. Elizabeth’s Red Knight stood outside the office. His face twisted into a vicious snarl as I approached. I gave him a cool look and then ignored him.

Sudden bursts of grief hit me as I walked through the door. Nothing had been changed since the Guildmaster – my Guildmaster – was last in this office. I could almost see the ghost of him at the desk, chewing me out for some stunt or the other. I blinked and the image was gone. Farmer motioned to the door to the bedroom. I walked into the room and hit the floor as a silver dagger was thrown at my head. I was crouched behind a chair to my left with my USP was in my hands before I even realized that Elizabeth was the thrower. She was standing behind the bed that dominated the small room. I holstered my pistol and rose up from behind the leather recliner.

“What was that?” I asked, somewhere between anger and confusion.

“You fucking bastard!” Elizabeth yelled, snatching a pillow off the bed. She threw it back down as she realized it wouldn’t hurt me. “You fucking dog! You made me murder Speartooth! You didn’t even give me a fucking choice!” She leapt, shedding human for true. The sudden attack caught me off guard. Her backhand slap threw me across the recliner and slammed me against the doorframe.

“How could you do this to me?” she screamed in my face as she picked me up and threw me into the office. The blow across the face was going to leave some bruises, but I could feel everything else healing. I shed for true and caught her third strike.

“I’m sorry Elizabeth, but it had to be done,” I said, holding her struggling arm in a tight grip. She stopped struggling and looked deep into my eyes. Elizabeth shrank as she shed for human. She yanked her arm out of my unresisting hand.

“Ancestors, you’re not even feeling the hurt,” she breathed, “You really are the monster they said you are.” There was something in her words and tone that hit me harder than any physical pain I had ever encountered. There was a horror and a repulsion in her eyes that I crushed something inside of me. “Get out of here. I don’t want to see you again.”

I didn’t say anything. I just shed for human and walked out. I didn’t even react to the smug look on the Knight’s face. My steps came faster as I made my way to the conference room. Vanessa looked up at me as I walked in and blanched. She started talking but I didn’t even hear her words. I held up my hand and she fell quiet.

“Pack up your stuff. We’re leaving.” It was all I could say in while my head swam with the tumult of emotions running through it.

“Mark, you do realize its night out?” Vanessa said, “You know, nighttime in a county controlled by vampires.” Something about hearing my nemesis race cleared my head a bit. Vanessa stepped back in fear at the smile that spread across my face.

“Oh don’t worry Vanessa. I know just the place to go.”

Chapter 18

Operations That Go According to Plan Are Some of My Favorite Fantasies

One of the oddest sensations when doing a job – or in this case, an operation – is the strange combination of excitement and boredom. The actual drive down to the hotel was dull. Florida can be a pretty state, but Interstate 75 doesn’t always go through the most spectacular parts of the state. Mostly its sparse grasslands, farms, and then the edges of the Tampa sprawl. I looked across the cab of the truck. Vanessa spent the entire drive from Tallahassee immersed in the data on her laptop. Barely audible pop music drifted over from her headphones as she drowned out the outside noise. She didn’t speak to me the entire trip. Her body language was oddly neutral. I couldn’t tell if she was just immersed in her studies, or if she was making a concerted effort to ignore me. Hangman casually mentioned to me that my plan was costing Vanessa a good portion of her savings. He made it perfectly clear that her outlay wasn’t something to be taken for granted. I knew he was right, but I didn’t know how to talk to Vanessa about it – so I didn’t say anything.

To be perfectly honest, I had my own problems as we approached my home county. It was getting harder for me to put away all of those unfamiliar emotions that blasted through me as I thought about what Elizabeth must be going through – assuming she was still alive. Intellectually, I knew that she was most likely dead. If only my brain could get through to the rest of me. It was taking more and more of my willpower to continue on to the hotel. Everything in me told me to scream into Tampa and begin a violent search for her – even if it meant bringing in the pathwalkers. Once my mind hit that revelation, I knew that my judgment was getting seriously fucked up. I was going to need some serious time to get into mission-mode once we got to the hotel, and that was not going to help my already-strained relationship with Vanessa if she decided we needed to talk. Vanessa liked to talk out her problems.

The hotel was your basic chain hotel. The rooms were comfortable, and that was about the extent of it. Vanessa retreated to her room, leaving me alone with my traitorous thoughts. I concentrated on mission preparations. Such as properly rigging one of my sub-machine guns into a non-descript satchel. I hated wearing something like the satchel, but it would blend into the university scene. The blending was for the humans, not the vampires or ghouls. The last thing Vanessa and I needed was for some stupid human to catch sight of a weapon and panic. Four spare magazines slipped into another pouch. I really wasn’t expecting a fight during the mission. If we made contact with the vampires’ forces – which during the day would be ghouls and a few stupid humans – then Vanessa and I would run, with just enough gunfire to cover our escape. As much as I hated to admit it to myself, I wasn’t here to liberate my county – or even to find Elizabeth.

There was a soft rap on the door. I peered through the peephole and saw Vanessa pacing back and forth indecisively in front of my door. I jerked the door open and yanked my partner inside. Vanessa let out a stifled yelp. I flinched as Vanessa slammed a surprisingly strong fist into my side. Hangman must have been giving her lessons. The two of us glared at each other for a brief, but eternal moment.

“Sorry,” I murmured, looking down at the floor, “My mind’s kind of fucked up right now.” Vanessa’s expression softened slightly, but her annoyance was still there. She rubbed her arm and walked into my room.

“I understand Mark,” Vanessa answered, her voice seasoned with an unexpected uncertainty. She sat down on one of the twin beds and stared at blank television screen. Her stillness was unnerving. I waited for her to speak, uncertain of what was going on in Vanessa’s mind.

“You know, being this close to Tampa, I’m scared,” Vanessa said, a slight tremor in her soft voice, “I’m fucking terrified. I thought as we got closer to the mission, all of those fears would just fall away, but they haven’t.” She slowly turned and looked at me. Vanessa’s eyes were pleading with me. I walked over and brought her into my arms. I didn’t say anything as the two of us clinged to each other. Vanessa’s fear grounded my burning desires to tear Tampa apart in a desperate search for Elizabeth. This delicate little kin, the beloved of my friend and protégé, needed me to keep focused. If I didn’t, there was a damned good chance that she wouldn’t make it out of this alive. She needed to know that I was with her on this mission.

Vanessa gently pushed me away and sat back down on the bed. She gave me an appraising look. “That was unexpected.”

“Hangman said you liked hugs,” I answered meekly. Vanessa laughed long and loud as the tension inside of her finally found a release.

“That makes sense,” Vanessa said, finally getting control. She gave me an odd look and leaned into me, “You know Mark, you give good hugs. Reminds me of my brothers.” Vanessa stared at the blank television screen, almost as if she were looking through it. I waited as she collected her thoughts. Vanessa almost never mentioned her family. The few times that she realized she had let something slip in conversation, she just stopped and stared off for a bit.

“Are you sure this plan is going to work?” Vanessa asked without taking her eyes off the television, “It seems a little iffy to me.”

“It should,” I answered confidently.

I could see the curtains in the house move ever so slightly as the limousine pulled up to the curb. I stepped out from the back, my eyes sweeping the street for possible threats. Vanessa stepped out behind me after paying the driver. I looked up at the house as the limousine quietly pulled off. Right now, Vanessa and I were in the most dangerous part of our mission, even if she didn’t know it. I slipped the strap of the messenger bag over my head and walked up to the door.

The house was a simple non-descript home in a middle-income suburb. The varying blues of the outside were new as the owners modernized their home to fit in with the neighbors. Two nice, but unimpressive sedans were parked in the driveway. A rusty and worn sports car was parked on the curb. I smiled. At least part of my grand plan was working. Now, if the occupants in the house would cooperate. I gently knocked on the door.

The door swung open. A disheveled man in his early forties stood in the doorway. From the look of his black hair and growing beard – and the smell of stale sweat and beer, the man hadn’t shaved or showered in a few days. His eyes, although bloodshot, were clear and focused on Vanessa and me as he visually inspected us. He was wearing a faded black t-shirt and black sweatpants. There was a familiar bulge on his right side at the waist. The man looked like he was leaning into the left side of the doorway, but I could see the signs that his annoyed nonchalance was a charade. I wouldn’t have expected anything less from one of Mrs. Werstand’s finest security consultants.

“Can I help you?” the deep voice drawled, betraying a childhood firmly in the Southern states. I heard Vanessa take a step back as the alcohol tainted breath floated across us.

“I hope so Mr. Williams,” I answered. Williams perked up when I said his name. His hand slid down to the bulge, but his eyes never left mine. “My name is Marcus Smith. I worked for Mr. Werstand.” The reaction was almost instantaneous.

“Get in here,” Williams ordered, grabbing my arm and jerking me into the house. I was barely in the foyer before Williams was grabbing Vanessa and dragging her into the house. There was a small Glock in Williams’ hand as the door shut. I pushed down my instinct to either draw out my own weapon or yank the MP5 out of the messenger bag. Williams was scared, but he wasn’t threatening us. He was trying to protect us.

“What in the hell are you doing here?” Williams demanded as soon as the door was securely shut.

“We need your help,” I said, “More to the point, we need your son’s help, Mr. Williams.” Williams’ arm jerked as he almost brought his weapon up to me before his conscious mind caught up.

“Who is we?” Williams asked suspiciously, “Your whole operation was rolled up, and both your boss and mine are dead.” Williams had every right to be suspicious of me. He had never met me before, but he knew I did dangerous things. After all, Williams worked for Mrs. Werstand’s security company, and the employees helped out the Guild on a semi-regular basis. The employees weren’t stupid. They needed something to explain why they occasionally escorted individuals toting fully automatic weapons and did surveillance on individuals that acted like criminals and terrorists. Some of the employees were kin, and they knew the whole story. Unfortunately, they were a small minority of the company. There just weren’t that many kin with the necessary skill set for an upper-tier security firm. For those individuals with the necessary skill set, but not the heritage, it was quietly known that the firm contracted out to clandestine intelligence operations. So, as far as Williams knew, the local spy ring in Tampa fought a nasty clandestine war with a new foe and got rolled up with many, if not most, of the local ring’s operatives killed or fled. Now, I was showing up and telling him that I needed him and his son to get back into the game.

“Yeah, the locals are gone,” I answered, silently thanking Vanessa for being smart enough to just play along, “Now I work for the next level up. There are records here in town that we need. We need to get to their location and extract from their location without being seen.”

“What does this have to do with my son?”

“The records are at USF,” I said, “Your son is a student there. He can get us on to the campus with a minimal amount of fuss. We get the records and he brings us back here. Then we leave.”

“Fuck you,” Williams hissed, “I am not risking my family for this. For all I know, your bad guys are waiting there to kill you and anyone around you. Hell, they could be watching this house.” I took a moment before answering and looked at Williams. The aging in his face and graying in his hair was recent. This was a man who watched his work explode in his face and was worried that it was following him home to his family. I doubted that Williams had a good night sleep since Mrs. Werstand was killed by the Bleeders.

“I can tell you that the firm’s relationship to our work was not revealed,” I told Williams, “We lost because the opposition flooded us with cheap workers. We had already eliminated their main operatives. There wasn’t anyone to make the connection.” Williams looked at me askance. It went against all of his professional experience, but he knew I was telling him the truth. Not all of it, but enough for him to believe me. “Our organization needs these records if we’re ever going to retake this area. Yes, there is some risk. If there wasn’t, I would just go to the university myself and not involve you at all. But, I will be there, and I will protect him.”

Williams turned away from us and walked into the kitchen. Vanessa and I silently followed him. Vanessa gave me a worried look, but I just gave her a reassuring smile. I spent some hard time researching my mark. Williams was going to agree – and so would his son. He just needed enough time for his mind to come to that forgone conclusion. I just hoped he would do it before his son’s afternoon class.

The younger Williams eagerly agreed to help us out. Part of that was probably ingrained family tradition, but the bigger part most likely came from a teenager’s excitement for doing what he considered “Epic Shit.” I heard the capital letters in his voice as the young man bubbled on how exciting it would be to be doing a covert operation. Vanessa gave me a concerned look, but I just smiled and waved her worries away. Williams wasn’t the only employee of Mrs. Werstand’s company that had a child at USF, but the younger Williams was already profiled as a possible “asset.”

The young human’s performance confirmed my suspicions. As we drove onto the campus, any outward sign of eagerness or excitement faded away as Williams Jr. became just another student – one who was only giving some friends of his parents a ride onto the campus. He even wore the strained sneer of angst. He was his father’s son.

The younger Williams dropped us off in front of the massive six-story library. The beige-bricked and gray concrete structure was taller than almost any of the other buildings on the expansive campus, with the notable exception of the Sun Dome arena. As I made sure the messenger bag was hanging properly, Vanessa confirmed telephone numbers. I scanned the surrounding area. In front of the library was a courtyard area dotted with green metal tables and crammed with humans. Behind us was a small cul-de-sac that acted as an access road. Beyond that was a small parking lot and one of the parking garages. To the left of the library was Cooper Hall, the main liberal arts building and the College of Education. On the right was the main entrance loop of the university, starting from Fowler Avenue to the main administrative building. Across the loop was the College of Engineering. My instincts were screaming that something was wrong, and my hand reflexively slipped into the messenger bag.

“Something wrong Mark?” Vanessa asked with a strained casual tone.

“Nothing I can see, but something’s wrong,” I answered.

“Do we need to leave?” Vanessa asked with a hint of fear in her voice. Her hand lightly grabbed my left arm.

“No, but I think we need to be careful,” I answered, taking the first steps toward the library. She kept a casual pace next to me, but she was darting looks all over the crowd of people. I doubted any of the students noticed, but a professional would. “Do you know where we’re going?”

“I know what we’re looking for,” Vanessa replied, “I’ll find out once I get on one of the computers inside.” We entered the sliding glass doors, through an airlock, and into the lobby of the library. Just on the other side of the airlock was a wide entrance way with a Starbucks to the right and the check out desk on the right. The entrance way dumped into a common area crammed with students at tables. Vanessa stopped one of the milling students and asked where the common use computers were located.

I jerked my head around as my instincts screamed warnings. My eyes scanned the area around us. We were being watched, but I couldn’t see who. My hand gripped the MP5 in the bag. Vanessa’s conversation with the other girl came to a screeching halt. Both of them gave me fearful looks. This was not me being paranoid. Someone with a bit of training was tracking Vanessa and I. My protective side told me to extract Vanessa and hunt down the bastard on my own. My professional side reminded me that the job needed to be done. I shook my head. A vague threat was something to be cautious about, but nothing so far was enough for me to cancel the operation. I fully believed that the information was too important to Vanessa and my overall mission.

“Let’s get this done,” I murmured to Vanessa. She nodded and warmly thanked the still-spooked coed. I followed my partner back to a bank of computers. It was primarily set up for the students to check their email, the computers also let Vanessa access the library’s catalogue. I let her tap away on the keyboard as I searched again for whoever was following us.

“Are you sure you’re not being paranoid, Mark?” Vanessa asked in a low voice.

“We are being followed,” I told her, “I just can’t find who’s following us.” Vanessa went pale and swallowed hard. I smiled down at her. “Relax. I’d scrub the operation if I thought you were in serious danger. Hangman would kill me if he find out I risked you wrecklessly.”

“Somehow that’s not making me feel better,” Vanessa replied tartly. She turned back to the computer and copied down some information onto her PDA. “The information is on the fourth floor.” I grimaced at that. I was hoping that it was close to the ground. The library’s main elevators and staircase emptied onto a common area on each floor. Rooms surrounded the common areas, and most of those were the stacks. If a fight broke out, the exits were severely limited. Hostiles could easily block the common area, which meant any exit would mean using very noisy means. Either an emergency exit, which would pinpoint our location for any bad guys, or we would have to go out the window. I could survive a forty foot fall, but Vanessa couldn’t. With this many humans, I really didn’t want to have to pull out weapons. I spent a moment weighing the risks and rewards before nodding to Vanessa.

“Okay, let’s do this,” I told her, “We’ll take the stairs up.” Vanessa nodded in agreement. The two of us walked as casually as possible up the stairs to the fourth floor. Vanessa kept a happy smile on her face as we passed the smattering of students in the common area. My instincts weren’t screaming at me as we went through the glass doors to the library’s stacks. Maybe whatever was following us had given up. More likely, it was calling for backup.

Vanessa went in search of the court records while I cleared out one of the studying corrals. Apparently my glower was scary because the two humans quickly grabbed their materials and skittered out of the stacks after a moment or two of me standing over them. Vanessa was oblivious to the matter as she plopped down half a dozen thick books. From the look on her face, Vanessa was annoyed. More than likely because she had to actually sort through paper instead of scrolling through electronic records. Vanessa hated paper records. They were antiquated and obsolete, among many of her other complaints. She slid the first book in front of her and cracked it open. The book actually cracked from never having been opened since it was printed and bound. As Vanessa settled down in her chair and began reading, I focused on watching the glass door. If our stalker decided to sneak in here, I was damn sure going to intercept him and make sure he had a nasty surprise. Quietly, of course.

“Mark, what are you doing?” Vanessa asked, her voice tight with annoyance.

“Guarding you,” I answered, keeping my focus on the door.

“Mark, we’ve got over two thousand pages of paper text to get through,” Vanessa laid out, “We will not get anything out of these before dark if you don’t help me.”

“Can’t you just find the date of the envoy’s report?” I asked.

“If there was any sort of order to these things,” Vanessa answered, “The court recorders don’t put everything in a nice neat chronological order. They have some bizarre indexing system that I don’t understand.”

“Bloody hell,” I murmured, “Okay, but move over here.” I gestured to the seat I was currently occupying.

“What?” Vanessa asked, “If anyone comes through that door, they’ll see me first.”

“That’s kind of what I’m counting on.”

Vanessa was right on two things. First, the system for listing entries in the court records was bizarre. I couldn’t make rhyme or reason for how the recorders decided to list the various transcripts in the books. The transcripts went from subject to subject with no binding theme. Even the date had no bearing. Some passages had transcripts from the same day, other times one day would be spread out over several passages. It was enough to drive anyone trying to gather information from the books to near madness. The second thing – Vanessa was easily spotted where she was sitting.

After a few hours trying to decipher the books, I heard the glass door open. I’d heard it open several times, but this time my instincts began their screaming again. I slid out from the study corral into the stacks. I left the messenger bag, but my USP was drawn and out of sight. The stalker walked almost noiselessly across the carpet. He had some training, but the stalker wasn’t a professional. Could have been a ghoul, but I didn’t think so. They were usually too task-oriented to do things stealthily and subtly. The ones who could were usually personal servants to the vampires. He walked up to Vanessa. I heard the distinctive sound of metal against leather as he pulled out a weapon. Stupid fucker.

“Where’s the werewolf?” an angry voice whispered. Vanessa gasped. I stepped up behind the – lycanthrope? What the fuck? I didn’t recognize him, but he was definitely a lycanthrope. He was holding a small revolver at Vanessa and didn’t sense me as I placed the barrel of my USP right behind his ear.

“Very carefully pup, hand your weapon over to my partner,” I told him. He hesitated and his muscles tensed, prepping for a counter against me. A flip from my wrist slapped my pistol into his temple. “I really don’t want to kill you, but it wouldn’t be the first time.” His muscles went slack as my words reached him. He quickly handed the revolver to a wide-eyed Vanessa.

“Good,” I told him, “Now sit down.” The lycanthrope quietly complied and I finally got a look at his face. The dark brown eyes and similarly colored hair was almost a trademark of the lycanthrope population. His face was lean and angular. There were faint scars on his chin and a more prominent one that split his right eyebrow. He was looking at me in fear and surprise. He swallowed as I towered over him and holstered my pistol.

“Ancestors,” he whispered with a disquieting awe, “You’re Ranger.” The lycanthrope knowing me caught me off guard. I gave him another hard look. I didn’t know him, but I recognized him. The lycanthrope was a pack warrior. I didn’t know which pack, but I was sure I had seen this lycanthrope at one of the Rites. “Ancestors, I thought you were dead.”

“Well, I’m not,” I said, “What are you doing here?”

“The Guildmaster sent me,” the lycanthrope said, “Blue Blade saw you come in. Guildmaster told me to go in and find you.” My hand shot out and slapped the young lycanthrope. I hit him harder than I wanted to, but I wasn’t about to apologize.

“Guildmaster’s dead,” I whispered dangerously, “So you better tell me who the imposter is, and who damn well gave him the idea he could take that title.”

“That would be me,” murmured a familiar voice from behind me. I whirled around, drawing my pistol. Farmer kept his pistol aimed at my eye as I place mine firmly into his gut. “And as to your second question, the Lady-Apparent promoted me.”

Chapter 17

Laying the Groundwork

“What the fuck do you mean it’s in Tampa?” I asked, straining to keep from stammering out my words.

“According to these tracking documents, the emissary’s report was part of a batch of documents that was sent to the holding facility at the University of South Florida,” Vanessa explained, motioning to the display on her laptop, “From the address, the university is in Tampa.”

“Yeah, it is,” I confirmed, “I’ve operated near the school plenty of times.” My mind was racing in several different directions at once, and I couldn’t keep focused on any of them. I closed my eyes to pull my thoughts together. Elizabeth just haunted the sudden darkness. I pushed her aside – I needed to concentrate on the task at hand. “Do you know where exactly the records are? That campus is huge.”

“The records are stored in the main library,” Vanessa answered cautiously, “Mark, what are you thinking?”

“How the hell we’re going to get in there without causing a problem,” I answered. The main highways were bound to be watched, if not by the vampires and their minions, then by the lycanthropes of the surrounding counties who would be enforcing the border. How would I find her once I slipped in?

“Mark, stop thinking about her for a minute,” Vanessa said, “We’ve got to concentrate on our mission.” She waited with a patient look as I organized the barrage of thoughts and emotions that were running through me. I nodded for her to continue. “First, we’ve got to let Blackhawk know what we’ve found. He needs to know why we’re going to Tampa, and what we expect to find.”

“Yeah, okay,” I murmured, fighting against my dislike for Blackhawk. Vanessa was right. As our employer, Blackhawk needed to know what we were going to do, both in case he could provide additional details and in case he needed to be able to cover himself if we were about to cause problems. “As soon as we’ve advised Blackhawk on what’s happening, I need to start doing some more mission planning. Things have taken an odd turn.”

Vanessa volunteered to update Blackhawk while I began the revision of the mission plan. I was originally just going to skirt the east coast of Florida before heading inland to meet with one of Blackhawk’s contacts just north of the border of the disputed territories. Since this was a covert mission, Vanessa and I would not be allowed to make contact with any county-level lycanthropes, or let those same lycanthropes even know we were on their territory. That task alone was difficult enough because lycanthropes didn’t allow foreign lycanthropes on their territory without appropriate permission. Doing so, and getting caught, meant a pretty bad beating as punishment and a strong escort to the border with instructions to never come back. Now, we were infiltrating a sealed border where the punishment for crossing without permission was death. Needless to say, routing this kind of operation was something you pulled up on one of the mapping websites or got directions from Triple-A.

My cell ringing caught me by surprise. Annoyed at myself for being startled, I looked down at the display. My scowl deepened. I didn’t know why Blackhawk was calling me, and I damn sure didn’t want to talk to him. Unfortunately, if he was calling me, then it was probably something important.

“Ranger,” I said.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Blackhawk growled into the phone, “I do not like my operatives abusing my trust.” My first reaction was scrambling to figure out who in the State Guild was talking to Blackhawk.

“I told you that you would help in the retaking of Hillsborough, so why are you coming up with some bizarre story to get yourself down there now?” Blackhawk demanded.

“I need to know what the emissary told the prince,” I replied, finally understanding what Blackhawk was going off about. “You want me to traipse down into the most dangerous part of Florida and complete an operation, then I need good intel. An emissary from the folks I’m supposed to be contacting sounds like pretty good intel.” I heard Blackhawk take a few controlled breaths before he began again.

“I’m going to tell you the same thing I told Vanessa. There is nothing in that report that will help you. Forget about it and get on with your mission,” Blackhawk ordered. There was something wrong. Blackhawk was being too forceful about the report. He could’ve just been clumsily trying to keep my focus on the job, but that’s not what my instincts were telling me. Blackhawk was trying to me away from that report – or from Hillsborough.

“I understand,” I told Blackhawk. He disconnected without any further words. I dialed Vanessa. There were a few things I needed to confirm. Vanessa was waiting for my call.

“Hi Mark,” she answered weakly, like she was expecting me to erupt at her.

“Hey Vanessa,” I answered back, “I just got the call from Blackhawk.” I could barely hear the intake of breath as she waited for the expected torrent from me. “What exactly did he tell you?”

“When I told him that we located the report and going for it, he just kind of exploded,” Vanessa said, “He wanted to know where we found it, and then told me that there was nothing in that report that would help us. We were just to forget it and get back to doing our job.” Vanessa’s recount confirmed a few things for me.

“Okay, continue to prep for our trip to Hillsborough,” I told her, “I’ve got to go back to the State Guild. Make sure you keep your appointment with the tailor. I may be out of contact for a bit. If Blackhawk asks, tell him we’ll be leaving day after tomorrow.”

“Mark, if there’s nothing in that report, there’s no reason to go to Hillsborough,” Vanessa said, “At least not in terms of the mission.”

“Vanessa listen to me, this has nothing to do with me trying to find the Lady-Apparent,” I told her, mostly truthful, “If there was nothing in that report from the emissary, why didn’t Blackhawk tell us what was in the report instead of just exploding at us?”

Vanessa didn’t have a good answer for that.

The State Guildmaster was holding a meeting with his lieutenants when I returned. The assorted leaders gave me a variety of evil looks as I barged into the State Guildmaster’s office. Most of them knew me. They had been part of the conversations that the State Guildmaster conducted with me. Most intel operatives would have called them debriefings. Ignoring the venom, I looked directly at the State Guildmaster. “We’ve got to talk. Alone.”

“I see,” he murmured, looking me up and down. He turned to his lieutenants and wordlessly ordered them out. The four lycanthropes gave each other confused looks. I understood their position. They had sat in on enough of my talks with the State Guildmaster, and they were the leaders of the different sections of the State chapter. What could I need to talk to the State Guildmaster about that they shouldn’t be privy to? The State Guildmaster trusted me to know if the matter was of such a delicate nature that his lieutenants were better off not knowing, such as most of the details of the workings of the Society of the Claw and the Fang.

“What is so important to drag you over here again?” the State Guildmaster asked, clearly curious.

“I think Blackhawk is setting me up,” I answered, “And I think I found a legitimate reason for you to send hunters into Hillsborough.” The office fell silent save for the slight hum of office electronics. The curious expression on the State Guildmaster’s face evaporated, and a neutral expression appeared. I didn’t know the head hunter well enough to find the slight facial signals that would tell me what he was thinking. The State Guildmaster said nothing for an eternally long and silent minute.

“Perhaps you should explain a bit further,” he said, giving me a short efficient wave of his hand to punctuate his statement.

“Okay,” I said, drawing my breath, “Blackhawk ordered Vanessa and I to infiltrate the disputed territories and try to extract the remaining lycanthropes.” The State Guildmaster nodded as I said this. “Doing our background research we came across reference to an emissary from the disputed territories.”

“Yes, I remember that,” the State Guildmaster, “I was busy dealing with a possible pathwalker in Orange County when the emissary reported to the prince. The prince told me that the emissary was little more than a half-crazed lycanthrope that couldn’t put together a coherent sentence, much less tell us what was happening in the disputed territories.”

“That’s very interesting,” I murmured, “Most of the references to the emissary were scoured from the normal databases. Why would the archivists do that?”

“I don’t know,” the State Guildmaster answered, clearly unsure of where I was going with this, “It could have been a simple mistake. Errors do happen. What does this have to do with Blackhawk trying to kill you or getting my hunters into Hillsborough?”

“Because I think the emissary gave a much more detailed report than you were told, and that Blackhawk is trying to make sure that the hunters are completely unaware of it.”

“Why?” the State Guildmaster asked, unconvinced.

“Don’t know for sure,” I answered, “Blackhawk was just a bit too forceful from getting the physical copy of the emissary’s report. There’s something in there that he doesn’t want you to know about, and Blackhawk knows I would tell you if it was something important.”

“I think you’re letting your dislike of Blackhawk color your interpretation of events Ranger,” the State Guildmaster said, sounding eerily similar to when my Guildmaster was “mentoring” me from doing something stupid. “It was the prince who told me about the emissary, not Blackhawk.”

“What if Blackhawk convinced the prince to tell you that?” I asked in response, “Blackhawk has the prince’s ear, or am I wrong about that?”

“No, but what is the end of all this?” the State Guildmaster.

“I don’t know, but I’m pretty damn sure that it has something to do with the disputed territories – and the war council.” The State Guildmaster leaned back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully.

“You may be right,” the State Guildmaster said, “I can see Blackhawk trying to manipulate the war council to put who he wants on the throne. What’s the point of sending you down there and killing you?”

“Not sure there either,” I said, “Again, it has something to do with what’s going on in the disputed territories. For that, I’ll need the emissary’s report. Which leads to how to get your hunters into Hillsborough.” The State Guildmaster’s eyes shot over to me with a burning intensity. I was a little taken aback. I didn’t know how angry the State Guildmaster was over the fact he was forbidden to send in his hunters into Hillsborough. I took his smoldering glare as a cue to continue.

“The emissary’s report is being housed in Tampa,” I told him, “If I found something important in the report, wouldn’t you have to send hunters down to secure the information?” The State Guildmaster’s face scrunched down in thought.

“That’s skirting the edge of my authority,” the State Guildmaster admitted after a brief moment of hard internal debate. “Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t push my authority so hard. With the war council, I might be able to without being forced from the Guild.” I wasn’t aware that the prince was enforcing such a strict blockade around Hillsborough. A Guildmaster – at the state or county level – was removed only for the strongest of infractions.

“So, I could take Hangman along?” I ventured.

“Hell no,” the State Guildmaster snapped. I held my hands out to show that I didn’t really expect to be able to snag Hangman, but that I had to try. “I won’t be able to send in anyone until I have reasonable evidence that there’s something that needs to be secured by my hunters. That said, I think it would be foolish not to send the hunter with the most local experience with the team tasked with securing whatever needs to be secured.” The agreement was made. If I could provide something, the State Guildmaster would send down state hunters to “secure” it, and provide the remaining Hillsborough lycanthropes some much needed support. I got a bonus with the State Guildmaster tacitly agreeing that Hangman would be part of the securing team.

I was just hoping there were lycanthropes left in Hillsborough. Elizabeth’s face slammed through my mind.

Vanessa joined me at my house after her appointment with the tailor. I spread a map of Hillsborough County and the surrounding area on my table. She was carrying a black hanging bag, like the kind business travelers used to tote around their suits. Her annoyed expression let me know how she felt about the tailoring session. I returned her annoyance with bland indifference. Vanessa didn’t have to go through the indignity of a rush tailoring job of her Kevlar if Vanessa took the time to properly procure one when she knew that she was becoming a field operative. Sensing my apathy for her predicament, Vanessa turned her attention to the map that dominated my kitchen table.

“So, what’s the plan, Mark?” Vanessa asked, hanging her bag in a closet.

“The plan, so far is in the general stages,” I replied, fixing the two of us glasses of iced tea. We both sat down at the table. “The good news is that Hillsborough is too big and there are too few lycanthropes – especially hunters – to properly seal the border. What they can do is patrol the common routes into the county and randomly patrol the rest of the border. They will most likely be relying on the fact that they can spot a lycanthrope with simply a look, and then hunt that lycanthrope down. We’re limited in that we can’t do anything that might seriously injure one of those lycanthropes. This is why we’re going to have to be sneaky getting back into Tampa.”

“Exactly how sneaky?” Vanessa asked.

“It shouldn’t be too bad,” I answered, “It does mean that it will take more time than just a straight shot. Truthfully, the actual odds of us being seen on anything but the main roads is kind of slim. The problem being is that if we are detected, we’re going to be drawn into a bad situation. Those lycanthropes will do anything to stop us, including killing us.” Vanessa shuddered at the words.

“And there’s nothing we can do to them,” she replied flatly.

“Yep,” I answered. I tilted my head and looked her in the eyes. It was our unspoken agreement that what I was telling her was the Ancestors’ own truth. “The lycanthropes are doing what the prince told them, and they have faith that the prince has a damn good reason for it, even if they don’t see it. More importantly, we are going to need these lycanthropes when the war council convenes and the lycanthrope army is sent into Hillsborough. I don’t want any bad blood between us if I have to work with them. There’s too much at stake.”

“For someone who claims complete ignorance of state politics, you sure seem to understand a lot,” Vanessa chided, the smile on her face reassuring me that she understood my explanation, and accepted it.

“The State Guildmaster said something similar,” I answered, “To use a human phrase, I never had a dog in the hunt before.”

“You still think she’s alive.”

“I know,” I said softly, “Everything says she is probably dead, but I Just Can’t Believe It. I need to do everything in my power to get as much help into Hillsborough as I can, including doing this job for the Society.”

“I understand,” Vanessa said, “So how are we going to do this?” I had been thinking on this while going through the gear I would be taking down. The incursion into Hillsborough itself was supposed to be brief – and had to appear so for the sake of the State Guildmaster. Again, a matter of state politics. The whole idea of getting state hunters into Hillsborough to find and rally any surviving lycanthropes – and killing as many vampires as they could in the process – was based on the premise that I made a quick, completely unauthorized incursion and turned up something important enough that it had to be secured. The first few members of the war council should be showing up in Tallahassee while Vanessa and I were in Hillsborough, and their presence should be enough to shield the State Guildmaster. At least, that was what we all hoped.

“I have the idea, but I’m going to need you to do pretty much all the phone work for this,” I told her, “And you’re going to have to use your personal money to do this. If any Society funds get used, Blackhawk will get wind of it, and may pull us off the operation.”

“Okay, what?” she asked, annoyed that I was beating around the bush instead of just telling her what the plan was.

“First, we’ll need a hotel in Zephyrhills for tomorrow night. Then we’ll need to rent a limo for the trip into Hillsborough.”

“What the fuck?” Vanessa screeched, “Why in the Ancestors’ names do we need a limo for this? Do you know how expensive that’s going to be?” I held up my hands, silently asking her to calm down. The Society didn’t exactly pay its operatives as well as the Guild paid its hunters, mostly because the Society gave large allowances for items such as home and vehicle. The personal expense I was asking Vanessa to undertake was considerable for her. I slid a check across the table to her.

“This is a thousand dollars to help defray the costs,” I told her, “The reason we need the limo is because it’s so flamboyant. The lycanthropes patrolling the border are not going to be looking for lycanthropes in limos. The moment they see one, it will be automatically dismissed. Oh sure, some of the hunters might consider it, but the tint will prevent them from seeing me, and they’re damn sure not going to stop someone in a limo unless they have proof positive that a lycanthrope is in there.”

“So why not rent a cargo van?” Vanessa countered.

“Who’s going to drive it?” I asked, “Limo services provide a driver. More importantly, they are used to providing a driver for unusual requests. A cargo vehicle would be more non-descript, but that’s not necessarily what we want.”

“And when we get on campus?” Vanessa asked, “Won’t that attract notice? If there are ghouls on campus or someone else looking for lycanthropes like you, it could cause a problem.”

“Depending on where we get dropped off,” I answered. Vanessa looked confused until I explained further. She wasn’t fully convinced, but she didn’t seem to have any further objections. She opened up her laptop and began working on the details. I needed to finish my own preparations. My truck would be loaded with gear I would need, plus enough room for items I expected to retrieve from Hillsborough. One of my small goals while in Tampa was to retrieve my personal stock of weapons. I missed my Commando, and I was pretty sure I was going to need it when I did head down to the disputed territories.

One thing I was certain of was the need to complete the operation. Hillsborough was overrun with vampires. I still didn’t have a clue as to how the TCV managed to get that many vampires in undetected by our intelligence specialists. The TCV would have had to “recruit” them from inside Hillsborough or managed to acquire assistance from another council. As to the former, we would have known if that many humans suddenly went missing. Hell, the human authorities would have noticed it, and more than likely, so would have the pathwalkers. The TCV wouldn’t have been that suicidal. As to getting more vampires into the county from another council, that possibility was more likely. I still don’t know how we would have missed the influx of vampires from outside the county. Simply put, your basic vampire would not have the experience or training to avoid all of the common entrances into the county. We should have seen a few of them coming in, and then found out about the rest of the bastards. That we didn’t meant that there was something new and evil going on amongst the undead. Because of this possibility and the sheer numbers of vampires in the county, any attempt to take back Hillsborough was going to require extensive training for the lycanthrope army that the war council would authorize. That kind of training needed to come from lycanthropes experienced in constant, tiring, and nasty warfare. The kind of lycanthropes we would find in the disputed territories.

As I looked at the map spread out on the table, my mind plotted Vanessa and mine’s moves beyond retrieving the emissary’s letter. I intended to call in the State Guild no matter what the letter said. If we found lycanthropes in Hillsborough, the State boys would help organize and train the remnant. If not – my heart seized as I contemplated the thought – then the State hunters would be able to collect priceless intelligence. Especially if Hangman was among their number. Once I was sure that the State Guild was sending a team in, Vanessa and I would have to move to the disputed territories.

I was putting a lot of faith that the emissary letter contained crucial information. If not, this mission had all the trappings of a suicidal run into vampire-held Florida. At least I knew the ground in Hillsborough and knew enough people to help me. The disputed territories, on the other hand, were completely foreign to me. I had a few ideas of how to contact the lycanthropes that were still running around, but I wasn’t really thrilled about any of them.

These ruminations brought my nagging suspicions to the forefront. Why was Blackhawk only sending two operatives on a mission that should require at least two hit packs? Was he trying to kill me off in some politically acceptable manner, or did he truly believe that Vanessa and I would extract these lycanthropes out? What were the Society’s ultimate goals for the war council and the inevitable campaign to retake the territories the lycanthropes lost to the vampire? There were too many questions

Chapter 16

Just Because No One Else Survived It….

During my first week in the Society of the Claw and the Fang, I didn’t see or hear from Blackhawk. It was just as well. I was busy as hell getting myself settled into my house and working with Vanessa to get her ready for field operations. I couldn’t bring myself to call whatever the Society wanted me to do jobs. That term was reserved for hunters, and I wasn’t working for the Guild anymore. I liked Vanessa, but my instincts were telling me that something was wrong with the Society. It wasn’t anything that I could put my finger on, but I definitely felt an ill-ease with the Society. Blackhawk’s sudden reappearance did nothing to lessen my suspicions.

A knock at my door woke me up before sunrise – a situation that didn’t make me all that happy to begin with. I was half-expecting Vanessa, but found Blackhawk standing impatiently on my front porch. Blackhawk was adjusting his grip on two brown bags. One bore the logo of a local pastry shop, which explained the smells emanating from it. The other was completely blank, and it piqued my interest. Blackhawk didn’t wait for me to invite him in and pushed past me. My mind was still trying to clear the haze of semi-consciousness, so instead of grabbing my interloping new boss and throwing him out, my hand just sailed past his rushing body. He set down both bags on my table. Before I could get my mouth and mind working together, Blackhawk whirled back to me and ordered, “Call Vanessa and get her over here, now.”

I wondered exactly how much trouble I would get into if I scruffed my runt of a boss and just punched him in the face. Instead of following through on my impulse, I snatched my phone off of the kitchen counter. I dialed Vanessa and after a couple of rings, I heard her mumble some sort of greeting. I smiled as I heard Hangman grumbling in the background. “Vanessa, it’s Mark.”

“I knew that when I saw the phone number, you dickhead,” she hissed into the phone, “This better be damned important for you to be calling me this early in the morning.”

“Our fearless leader decided to show up at my place and decreed that I call you over here,” I answered, lacing my words with as much false sincerity as I could, “Since he’s the one paying the bills, you might want to get over here. At least he was nice enough to bring breakfast stuff.” I heard shuffling in the background.

“Tell Chris that I’ll be there in an hour,” Vanessa said. She must have turned to Hangman, because I heard her faint scolding voice, “This is what I get for staying over at your place.” I stifled a chortle and closed the phone. I turned back to Blackhawk. His face was twisted in righteous indignation as he closed the distance between us.

“I do not appreciate my subordinates referring to me in mocking tones,” Blackhawk said in measured tones. Gone was the smooth and collected façade that Blackhawk exuded the past two times I met him. In front of me was someone that reminded me heavily of my first boss when I joined the Hunters Guild – a tin god that I learned to hate. Fortunately, his deputy protected me before I did something incredibly impulsive. That deputy would continue protecting me, and then promoted me to his personal hitter when he became the Guildmaster of Hillsborough County. I decided to follow the constant advice of my Guildmaster and ignore Blackhawk’s provocation. Almost.

“I don’t care if you don’t like it,” I answered coolly, “Vanessa will be here in about an hour. I’m going to get dressed.” As I turned towards my bedroom, Blackhawk grabbed my arm.

“I will not have you talking to me like that,” Blackhawk spat, his body vibrating with anger at my insolence, “I am your leader, and you will give me the respect that a leader deserves.” My eyes narrowed at Blackhawk’s words. The term leader has a very specific connotation in the lycanthrope world. A leader was a lycanthrope that earned his position through skill and strength. A leader was someone who could protect his pack and assert its claims through the county. Someone that strong deserved the respect his subordinates willingly gave. Blackhawk was not a leader. He was my boss, because I willingly worked for him. He was not my leader – not like my Guildmaster, not like Lord Vollen.

“You are not my leader,” I replied with a coolness in my tone that amplified my words, “You are a means to an end. I am willing to work for you because I know that the war council will need me when it goes back into Hillsborough, and you can secure my position there. Make no mistake about how far our relationship goes.” He shrank back from me as I talked. Okay, maybe the Guildmaster was right and words could be more effective that outright violence. I quickly hid the smile as my mind clicked on a realization. Blackhawk didn’t understand who he was recruiting. If his contact was Skiff, then Blackhawk probably had no idea what had happened to me during the war and the fall of Hillsborough. Blackhawk came to the same conclusion, because the anger was replaced by a calculating look. Was all of his anger an attempt to manipulate me?

I walked into my bedroom as Blackhawk retreated back to my table. My confrontation with Blackhawk did nothing to mitigate the warnings my instincts were blaring about the Society. Hell, for all I knew, Vanessa and I may be the Society’s only employees. From my talk with the State Guildmaster, I was fairly sure that Blackhawk could deliver on his side of the bargain. Even being isolated from lycathrope society, I knew that the war council was coming, and probably in less than a month from what Hangman told me. Once the council convened and a new leader was selected, then an army of lycanthropes from all over the state could be raised. That army would take back Dade, Broward, and Hillsborough counties and restore the lords of those counties to power. For such an army to succeed, it would need the Society and the State Guild to do prep work such as gather strong, hard intelligence and surgically remove some of the obstacles. I was willing to do that to make sure that my county was liberated and the Vollens restored to power. Damn it, I knew she was still alive.

I made a point to stay in my bed room until Vanessa showed up. I would need her to keep me restrained in dealing with Blackhawk. I trusted Vanessa to keep me from doing more damage to my relationship with Blackhawk. I heard Blackhawk and Vanessa speaking in low tones, so I walked out of my room. Vanessa shot me a frustrated look, while Blackhawk pointedly ignored my entrance and focused on emptying the contents of the bags. Vanessa sat down next to me as Blackhawk looked askance at us from across the table.

“Your first assignment,” Blackhawk announced as he shoved a foot high stack of paper at Vanessa and me. “You will commence the operation after the Bone Moon, but you will need to get started on the information analysis as soon as possible.”

“Okay, so what is it?” I asked.

“I need you to locate and extract Lord Savik and his followers from the disputed territories,” Blackhawk casually answered.

“What the hell?” Vanessa demanded. She looked over at me, and looked surprised that I wasn’t objecting. “Why are we doing this?”

“Because the war council will need those lycanthropes,” I answered. Vanessa just need lycanthropes with experience to help lead in a lycanthrope army. For Hillsborough, Hangman, myself, and anyone else who managed to escape the county will be needed. For an army to survive any incursion into the disputed territories, it will need those lycanthropes with experience.”

“None of the State Guild hunters sent in have returned, nor any of the Society teams,” Vanessa countered, “The place is a black hole. How do you expect us to survive long enough to pull out this Lord Savik, assuming he’s alive?”

“You, by providing the best analysis of the available intelligence,” Blackhawk answered, jabbing a thin stub of a finger at Vanessa, “And you, protecting her and helping to scrounge up more intelligence for her to analyze. That’s why I put the two of you together – to handle these kinds of operations.” Vanessa scowled, petulantly. She didn’t have any other arguments to make. I didn’t have any arguments against the operation, because it was exactly the kind of thing that I expected from the Society. A hint of smugness leaked through Blackhawk’s business façade. He knew the odds were against Vanessa and me on this operation, and he knew that I could see the importance of it to the war council.

“I’ll leave you two to discuss how you want to do this,” Blackhawk said as he walked to the front door, “This operation is vital to the state.” He brusquely slipped through the front door, leaving Vanessa to shoot me a ferocious look of betrayal.

“What?” I demanded as she stood with a sniff.

“Why the hell didn’t you say anything?” she countered, “Even you can tell going into the disputed territories is death.” I looked at Vanessa for a moment without saying anything. Her body was slightly trembling and jerking her hand through her hand. When I didn’t say anything, Vanessa began to pace.

“Vanessa, does this terrify you?” I asked softly.

“Yes! Doesn’t it scare you?” she answered, nearly screaming. I looked at her for a moment before answering.

“No, not really,” I answered, trying to keep my voice as calm as possible, “The operation doesn’t scare me. I understand it’s dangerous, but not terrifying.”

“I don’t believe you,” Vanessa shot back, “I don’t care what your rep is, you have to have some fear in you.”

“Yeah, but not like what you’re feeling,” I said. Vanessa planted her fists into her hips. Her face plainly told me that she didn’t believe me, so I tried to explain. “Look, this isn’t exactly the first time that my superior has sent me on what would be called ‘a suicide mission.’ Hell, that’s partly how I made my professional rep. But I’ve had years of training and experience to fall back on.”

“And I don’t,” Vanessa concluded before I could finish, “I’m acting like a rookie, is that it?”

“No, you’re acting like someone who’s facing the unknown,” I answered, “Look, you’re just going to have to trust me that I know what I’m doing when it comes to this shit. Yes, you’re going to be in some danger. That’s the nature of the field. But I’m not going to risk you unnecessarily or put you into unnecessary danger by my actions.”

“That’s not exactly comforting, Mark,” Vanessa said, her normal sarcasm returning.

“Listen, you signed up for a job that’s not exactly safe,” I replied, “The trick is to maximize your results while minimizing your danger.”

“Isn’t that supposed to be the other way around?”

“Nope,” I answered, “At the end of the day, you better be willing to lay down your life for the job if necessary.”

“Jeez, Sam is going to flip when I tell him what I have to do,” Vanessa said, slumping into the chair next to me. She stared at the stack of paper with an apathetic excitement.

“Hangman’s a professional,” I said, “He knows the score.”

“Yeah, because you would react so well if it was Elizabeth traipsing down to the disputed territories with only one bodyguard,” Vanessa retorted. My body locked as the words hit me. I was frozen as a locked-away terror roared through me with pent-up power. Vanessa saw the effect her words had on me and quickly wrapped her arms around me like a warm blanket and murmured a low soothing tone. The fear sniggered at my partner’s actions. Fear was a paralyzing thing, but it was stupid. Since I didn’t have to concentrate on the external world, I could pull all of my strength together and slam the fear back to the dark place in my mind where I kept it.

“Okay, that’s something that scares me,” I said. I exhaled slowly, “Ancestors, it scares me.”

“That’s not a normal reaction, Mark,” Vanessa said, with the same low, soothing tone, “You’re going to have to deal with all those feelings you keep locked up. Preferably before it gets us killed.” I nodded silently. “Are you going to be okay?”

“Get me on the operation, and I’ll be fine,” I answered, “I know how to handle those.” Vanessa seemed warily satisfied with my answer and excused herself. She wanted to get back to Hangman. I could understand her desire to curl up with Hangman and let him tell her everything was going to be all right. I wished desperately that I could do the same thing with Elizabeth. Calling her by her name hurt less.

The dark sky was cloudless, letting the stars gleam in the night. The moon was a bright white disc in the sky, trickling light into the woods. The shadows from its dim light moved and danced as the light breeze came through where I was waiting. I tasted the breeze with my muzzle, smelling the quarry’s fear.

My paws silently moved through the brush. My eyes had not caught his image yet among the trees, but I could hear his crushing footsteps as he ran. My nose had smelled his fear, his dank perspiration, the stains on his clothes from his last meal. He thought he had escaped the worst of his life. I knew different, and soon he would also.

I had tracked him from where the prison bus had tipped over. According to the scent on the crude knife in the body, my quarry had killed his guard and then escaped with about ten or so others. They were also being hunted this Bone Moon, but I was only interested in this one.

I lowered my head at one of his footprints. I could feel my instincts fighting me. Run, chase, and kill. His scent is strong and the hunger grows, they beckoned in my head. I could see something was wrong. This wasn’t the path of an aimless run. The prey knew something was following him.

Good, it makes the hunt more exciting if the meat knows that his hunter is out there, the wolf inside beckoned. I could have shed my wolf for that of true, but I refused to let the primal animal in me win any small victory. The human out there knew he was being hunted, and that made him dangerous. I ran parallel to the tracks that I had been following, hoping to find any traps the prey set. I tasted the wind again, hoping to find his familiar scent among the background of the forest.

I couldn’t smell him at all. He was downwind of me. The bastard – meat – was smart. I tasted the wind again. This time, I listened to it instead of smelled it. The birds upwind were chirping wildly. They were defending their territory. The birds downwind were coming this way because the human had startled them out. After listening to the sounds of the calls for a few minutes, I figured out where the human was and in what direction he was moving.

I ran through the brush. The dead leaves, fallen branches, and dirt were mashed together under my paws, making a unique noise that the other animals in the forest knew and understood. A predator was chasing his prey and everything else had best move out of the way.

The trees began to thin out as I chased the human, and in the distance I could see the end of the forest. A wide open clearing of tall grass awaited me. The poor fool. I could now make him out. He wasn’t very tall, but he was fast, and he knew how to run through tall grass. I ran out of the forest into the grass, swishing through the tall strands. I was close enough now that I no longer needed the wind to smell him. He was very afraid. I could feel his heavy footsteps pounding through the ground as he ran.

Yes! Run him into the ground! Pounce and tear him apart! The primal me took over and my pace quickened. The prey had no chance. Against a normal wolf, he might have escaped with his life. Not against a lycanthrope. I was only about two yards from him when I leaped, springing well over ten feet into the air. My front legs grew as the paws articulated themselves into clawed hands. My neck shortened as my chest broadened. My body elongated itself, with my tail growing also. My legs stretched and fleshed out. My prey grew smaller as my perspective changed. The subdued night colors sprang into my vision as I left behind the gray-scale of a wolf’s eyes.

I could feel his spinal column shatter as I slammed into his back. We crashed into the ground. I rolled off him and crouched in front of his paralyzed body. He whimpered and cried, trying desperately to pull himself along the ground with his arms. His legs dragged behind him uselessly. He did not seen me in front of him.

I reached out my hand and grasped his hair. I pulled up his head from the ground until he was staring me in the eyes. Pain fell from his eyes as it was replaced with stark fear. My other hand swept his neck, the razor-sharp claws slicing his throat open. A rasping wind came out, then the blood from his veins filled the air pipe. An pathetic gurgling came out as the body tried to save itself. The man, however, was not aware of this. His cognitive mind was gone, already deep within itself as the catatonia set in. The gurgling of his last breaths pumping out of his mutilated throat lasted over a minute before it ceased. The prey was dead. The hunt was finished. The Bone Moon beamed happily down on me as the Ancestors gave their approval of my hunt.

Perhaps the most boring part of doing an operation is the intelligence analysis. Not the gathering – that can actually be kind of fun if you’re doing it right. It was just fucking boring plowing through the available intelligence to glean out the useful bits of information from the useless details. At least it was for me. Vanessa, on the other hand, hummed happily to the song on her MP3 player as she sat at my dining room table and read through the stack of paper that Blackhawk handed over to her. The rapid clicking of her laptop’s keys was grating on my nerves. I hated her at the moment. I was still staring at the same scrap of paper for the past ten minutes.

Granted, part of her happiness and part of my grumpiness was because of the Bone Moon. The hunt was good, but it was the first time in my life that I felt the empty pit afterwards. For most lycanthropes, after returning from the hunt, they burned off the remaining energy with their mates. There was good reason for that – most lycanthrope females were “fertile” during the Bone Moon, and it was a good time to sire new lycanthropes. Badmoons were never considered good sires, so I never had to worry about doing the mating dance. Prostitutes were always good ways of working off extra energy. Sometimes you even got lucky, and the pimps tried to shake you down. This Bone Moon was different. I missed Elizabeth far too much.

Part of me wanted to just leave it to Vanessa and go shooting, but my professional side knew better. I had no doubt that Vanessa would give me an excellent intelligence summary, but sometimes you just needed to see the hard data yourself. The raw data could give you a feel for the situation, something a summary just couldn’t.

Part of the problem with dealing with the disputed territories was that the damn place was a black hole when it came to current intelligence. Nothing came out of there, not even on the vampire side. Bradon once confided in me that the place scared the vampires almost as much as it scared the lycanthropes. Vanessa and I had plenty of information, but it all pre-dated the surprise attack by the vampires. Hell, we didn’t even know what happened during the attack. Like I said, the damn place was a black hole.

Every lycanthrope in Florida knew the basics. About six years ago, the aristocracies of two of the most popular counties, Broward and Miami-Dade, went missing in what was assumed a massive surprise attack by the Gold Coast Council. There were few fleeing lycanthropes, and none of them could give an account of what happened. The State Guild immediately dispatched two hit packs to investigate and extract any lycanthropes. They just vanished shortly after crossing the border into Broward. The Society also lost an asset who infiltrated into Miami-Dade. The Prince ordered the immediate sealing of the borders between the two counties and the rest of the state. The surrounding counties were charged with maintaining the border with some assistance from the state. The Society set up a few listening posts, but neither the Society, nor the State Guild, sent in any additional forces.

The Prince suffered politically for his decision. The few times I heard my Guildmaster speak of the situation, it was with unadulterated disgust. From what he said, Lord Vollen was of a similar opinion. I don’t know how the Prince managed to avoid a war council being convened when those two counties fell. I didn’t pay attention to state-wide politics beyond the occasional grumblings of my boss. Hell, county politics were annoying enough to me. The only good point was that the vampires didn’t have a state-wide structure. The individual councils were too busy fighting for advantage to band together – even with one of them gaining control of two of Florida’s richest counties.

From just the basic overview, the mission that Blackhawk gave Vanessa and me looked impossible. What changed the mission from impossible to improbable happened about the time that tensions started to rise between the TCV and Lord Vollen. There was only a tersely worded memo that talked about an “emissary” from the disputed territories that showed up in Jacksonville. No information about what the emissary said was given to us. From what I was reading, the whole incident was swept away by the Prince. My instincts were telling me that Blackhawk had something to do with it, but I was being very careful with that theory. I wanted it to be true too much, and that meant it would be too easy to ignore information that disproved it. I learned that lesson the hard way a long time ago. It damn near cost another hunter his life.

“Vanessa, have you managed to find anything on what the emissary told Lord Janis?” I asked. The emissary’s message was the focus of Vanessa’s research while I reviewed the basic background to get a feel for the disputed territories. When Vanessa didn’t even move her head at my question, I fished a coin out of my pocket and threw it at her.

“What the fuck?” she asked as the coin audibly slapped against her neck. She took one look at me and pulled her headphones off. “Sorry, what did you ask me?”

“The emissary?”

“Not a thing,” she answered, “I chased down a few leads, but they all came up empty.” Vanessa surprised me. I expected her to be frustrated, but she wasn’t. If anything, Vanessa was more excited about the hunt for the information she was searching. “I hoped to find the emissary, but he apparently died shortly after talking with Lord Janis. Lord Janis made a report to the prince, but so far that’s the extent of what we know.”

“Great,” I groused, “Any other ideas?”

“A couple,” Vanessa said, “Whoever didn’t want that report known couldn’t destroy the actual report. Not once it was entered into the official record. According to our memo, Lord Janis’s report was entered. So, the only options would be to hide its existence and its residence.”

“Okay, I’m following you so far.”

“Well, we already know that it does exist, so now we only need to find where it exists,” Vanessa explained, “How familiar are you with the court records?”

“I’m not,” I answered, “At the county level, the aristocracy leaves that duty in the hands of the Keeper. I don’t know where that old bastard did with them.”

“I’ve never even heard of a Keeper,” Vanessa said, “At the State level, the keeping of the prince’s court record is kept by the kin of the prince.”

“I didn’t see any kin in the Manor.”

“I don’t know all of the specifics, but the kin transcribe the records from audio recordings,” Vanessa answered. Okay, that shouldn’t be surprising. The hunters kept audio recordings anytime that the Guildmaster met with any of the pack leaders. It kept them honest if we did something they asked for in a manner they didn’t like. “Now, from what I’ve been researching, the court records aren’t kept in the Manor. The records are distributed to safe places throughout the state, using the state university system to protect them.”

“Okay, so what does that mean for our search?” I asked, trying to get to the point.

“It means that instead of looking for the actual report, I’m looking to see where the kin sent the records for the day Lord Janis reported to the prince,” Vanessa answered, “I’m making some headway on this tack, but there’s a lot of disparate data that needs to be mapped and analyzed.”

“Time estimate?” I asked, internally reviewing my building list of to-do items.

“I can’t give you one,” she said, “I could find it in the next ten minutes, the next two hours, or tomorrow. There’s just a ton of raw data that I have to sift through.”

“Yeah, okay. You don’t have to sound so damn happy about it.”

“Can’t help it. This is the kind of thing I love doing.” Vanessa was actually beaming with anticipation. I did need her for some of the things that needed to get done before we left, but we needed the report more. I stood up from the table. There really wasn’t anything else that I could really contribute on the intel side.

“Okay, you continue to work here. I’ve got to go to the Guild and get some of the gear that we’re going to need.”

“Say hi to Sam for me,” Vanessa said as she immersed herself in her music and the glowing display on her laptop.

I had learned Tallahassee just enough to get to the places I needed to go. One of those was the State Guild. Most of it was meeting with Hangman for lunches and the occasional discussion with the State Guildmaster and some of his hunters. Those discussions were informal debriefings on what happened in Hillsborough. I got the distinct feeling that the State Guildmaster was planning something that involved Hillsborough, but he wasn’t giving out any details – at least to me or to Hangman. As soon as I arrived, I was directed to the State Guildmaster’s office. That was fine, because I needed to ask the State Guildmaster for stuff.

“Ranger, we need to talk,” the State Guildmaster growled as I walked into his office. I looked around and didn’t see any of the unknown familiar faces that normally were waiting to talk with me.

“What?” I asked in response.

“Why in the hell is Blackhawk sending you down to the disputed territories?” The State Guildmaster gave me a severe look that I recognized. It was the same look my Guildmaster gave me when he wanted an answer from me without any of my normal bullshit.

“How did you know that?” I asked. From the earlier conversations with the State Guildmaster and some of his hunters, I had the impression that the Guild knew very little about the Society and its activities. I wasn’t expecting the State Guildmaster to be privy to what the Society was doing.

“Your partner needs a refresher on operational security,” the State Guildmaster answered, “She confided in her lover, and of course –“

“He told you,” I finished. I was annoyed, but Hangman didn’t do anything wrong. He did exactly as hunters were taught since we first walked into the training camp.

“So?” the State Guildmaster asked, “Why are you going to the disputed territories?”

“I’m not sure that I can tell you that,” I answered. The State Guildmaster’s face darkened. “Listen, I’m not trying to make trouble for you, but that may be information that’s too sensitive for me to hand over to you.” The State Guildmaster’s face continued its scowling countenance. “Look, I don’t know what you’ll do with that information, and I don’t want anything that can be traced back to me. Wouldn’t do either of us a bit of good.”

“So why are you here?” the State Guildmaster asked, slightly less scowling.

“Actually, I need some stuff for this upcoming jaunt,” I said with a straight face. The State Guildmaster just gave me a blank look. I could see the incredulous thoughts running through his head, so I plowed on before he had time to recover. “I brought a list of things that I can’t procure on my own. I kind of figured you might be willing to give me a hand.”

“Why, in the Ancestors’ names, should I do that?” the State Guildmaster asked, finally recovering from my initial barrage.

“Because you don’t want me dead,” I answered, dropping my voice from its normal irreverent tone to one of deadly earnest, “Because neither of us trusts Blackhawk, and we both know it’s better to have someone on the inside.”

“For a non-political lycanthrope, you seem to know how to play the game well,” the State Guildmaster commented as he reached for the paper list in my hand.

“Politics, no. Survival, yes.”

Like the Hillsborough chapter, the State Guild maintained its armory inside a legitimate gun store. Most chapters did so, because a gun store was such an excellent cover for a depository of a lot of guns and ammunition. The State Guild armorer was, surprisingly, a kin by the name of Rube Simmons. Kin were hired and used by lycanthropes for a variety of reasons, but the Guild never used them for anything but intelligence gathering and occasionally staffing some outside offices. My momentary surprise was quickly swept away by the gruff, efficient manner Simmons put together my package – including offering some very helpful suggestions. My gear was simple because I knew what worked for me. Getting things for Vanessa on the other hand, was to say the very least, challenging.

I returned back to the house and began laying out the gear I planned taking on my trip into the disputed territories. When it got down to brass tacks, the mission was locate-and-extract. Since the lycanthropes I was looking for already sent for help from the rest of the state. My suspicion was that once Vanessa and I managed to find out exactly what the messenger told the Lord of Duval County, we would know where to find the remaining lycanthropes in the disputed territories. I called Vanessa and asked her to meet me back at my house.

“Hey Mark, what’s up?” Vanessa asked as she stepped through my door.

“We need to get you equipped before we have to leave,” I answered, “First, did you manage to make any progress on the search?” She pulled her laptop out of her satchel bag and laid it out on my table. She quickly keyed in some commands.

“I’ve got one of my custom search devices working on it,” Vanessa said, “Nothing yet, but the more negative hits, the better I can refine the parameters.”

“So the answer is you’re making some progress, but no real definitive idea of when we’ll find what we’re looking for,” I said. She nodded with an exasperated look on her face. I ignored it and continued on the main purpose of the meeting. “First, you have a nine a.m. appointment at the State Guild to have a vest fitted. I’m not taking you into the field without one. The other thing is to get you equipped with a sidearm and a field weapon.”

“You’re kidding, right?” she asked, “You’ve seen me shoot.” I laid out a few handguns on my coffee table. Vanessa could hit something, but only after some intense drilling, which we didn’t have time to do. Vanessa also got flubbed by the controls of normal automatic pistols.

“Try this one,” I said handing her a small automatic.

“Isn’t this your back-up piece?” Vanessa asked handling the tiny Glock.

“Similar, but this one is chambered in nine millimeter,” I answered, “You should be able to handle it without too much problem.” Vanessa hemmed and hawed, but in the end, she preferred the Glock over the two revolvers she tried. Personally, I was glad she liked the Glock. It used the same ammo as the two MP5’s, and would take all of the abuse a new owner was going to put it through. Simmons was kind enough to give me a used one, so I wouldn’t have to worry about breaking it in. Simmons also threw in a bunch of different gun leathers. Vanessa found a pocket holster and a purse holster that she liked. I was about to turn to let her start choosing a long gun when her laptop toned.

Vanessa’s jaw dropped as she looked at the screen. She tapped furiously as I waited patiently for her to confirm the findings. I knew she was shocked at the results her computer generated, but there wasn’t anything I could do. I would more than likely just get in her way.

“Mark, we’ve found the emissary’s report,” Vanessa said with a hushed voice.

“Great, where is it?” I asked. That report would hopefully give us strong intelligence on the current situation in the disputed territories.

“It’s in Tampa.”

]]> http://www.derek-ward.com/2008/12/chapter-16/feed/ 0 http://www.derek-ward.com/2008/10/chapter-15/ http://www.derek-ward.com/2008/10/chapter-15/#comments Sat, 11 Oct 2008 02:19:34 +0000 derek http://www.derek-ward.com/?p=56

Chapter 15

This Is Why I Hate Job Interviews

At the Guildmaster’s suggestion I showered and changed into a more respectable looking outfit. My jeans were replaced by black slacks. A borrowed oxford blue button-up shirt and a tie were also his doing. I kept my boots, mostly so that I could easily carry my new back-up piece, a Glock 30, but I did shine them a little so that they didn’t look quite so rugged. My trusty USP was still in a small of the back holster, covered by a simple black leather jacket that Hangman had let me borrow for the meeting. My protégé seemed much better after he woke up. From what I gathered, Hangman managed to impress the state trainer, and Hangman was going to be hazed into the State Guild that afternoon. There was pride in his eyes, but the sorrow of what we lost still haunted him. I didn’t push it and slipped out as soon as Hangman left.

I watched the city go by as the Guildmaster drove me to my meeting. He and I made some small talk, but I was getting more anxious as we neared the coffee shop. He let me out at the store’s front, and I thanked him for the ride. He nodded and drove off with a wave. I stood in front of the building a moment before going in. The Java Spear was a hangout spot for the students of the nearby Florida State University. The rich smells of the various coffees and teas flooded me as I opened the door. The central walkway was bordered by two raised drinking/dining areas, each holding roughly ten tables. Large picture windows framed the areas. The walkway continued to the counter where three twentyish humans were waiting on customers. Off to the side of the counter the walkway continued into a back room. I could see Blackhawk standing next to the doorframe. I walked up to the counter, bought a jasmine tea, liberally laced it with honey from the bottle at the end of the counter, and joined Blackhawk in the room.

Unlike the front areas that were heavily decorated with collegiate paraphernalia, this room was devoid of any mention of the Seminoles. The walls were painted a strange green color and the only light emanated from the door and the small lights on the ten tables of the room. There were a couple of humans in the room, heavily involved in their texts. In one corner sat another human, a female, about twenty-five or so.

Blackhawk and I made our way through the maze of tables to where she sat. He sat next to her, as I took the chair opposite of her. She was attractive, but it would take a second glance to notice it. Her hair was long and black. She wore it in loose curls cascading down her back. Her face was a soft pale white, with a light amount of make-up placed about her. What caught me the most were her eyes. They were a deep blue, but what caught me was the intelligence I could see in them. She studied me, much as I did her, and then looked me directly in the eyes, which surprised me. Most humans, and to a lesser extent lycanthropes, do not look people in the eyes and get uncomfortable when someone does look them straight in the eyes. It was a weakness I usually take full advantage of.

“So, Christopher, this is my blind date?” she asked Blackhawk in a playful tone as he sipped his coffee.

“Vanessa Hawthorne, may I present Marcus Badmoon, commonly called Ranger by his colleagues in the Guild.” He produced a manila folder from a small attaché case beside him on the floor, and placed it in front of her. I was curious, but I pushed it to the back of my head as I sipped at my tea. She read what I assumed was a file on me, occasionally making an inquisitive noise, for about a half hour before closing it and setting it down on the table.

For a moment it was quiet at our table. I could see her mentally preparing the questions she had for me. I just continued to sip at my tea, which was almost empty.

“Did you really do all those things?” she asked, almost incredulously.

“That depends. I didn’t read that file, so I don’t know what exactly you’re referring to.” I tried to keep my voice nonchalant. I learned a while back that treating the extraordinary parts of your career as normal usually disarmed outsiders, making them easier to deal with.

“A couple of highlights. Did you really walk into a coven of vampires with nothing but a pistol and wipe them out?” I nodded casually. It was a couple of years ago. The lord found out about a group of leeches unaffiliated with the TCV that were striking at our kin. The leeches had already killed three kin and critically wounded another two by the time the Guildmaster gave me the job. The Guildmaster made it clear that I was expected to eliminate the entire coven. So, I sanctioned them in my normal, violent method. I found out who was next in their hunt, a kin that I did not know, and liberally laced his blood with a concoction provided to me by a somewhat decent shaman. When the leeches drank from the kin, they also became intoxicated. Then it was a matter of suppressing the three or four ghouls with them, and executing the leeches. The Guildmaster made it sound much more difficult than it was, mostly to keep other lycanthropes from understanding how simply we operated. The Guildmaster did that a lot with the first Vollen, but Stephen Vollen had been much better at just letting us do our jobs and not worrying about the details unless we became excessive – such as my bonfire in front of the TCV Hall.

“You also killed three vampires by smelling them?” she asked.

“Why does everyone keep bringing that up?” I asked in response, a little exasperated, “The dumb bastards made a very bad mistake and landed upwind of me. Any hunter could have done that.”

“Not every hunter would have put it together so fast as to where the leeches were,” Blackhawk said quietly, “That’s what makes you so valuable, Ranger. You observe the world through all of your senses and act quickly on your observations.” There was something in the way Blackhawk made the observation that sent my instincts roaring.

“You’re making a bigger deal of this than it really is,” I replied, “I’m good because I don’t think like most of the others. A nasty flair of the dramatic and a habit of finding the odd solutions is what the Guildmaster told me.”

“And this part about you hearing the assassin assembling his weapon the night Stephen Vollen was killed?” asked Vanessa. I looked up in surprise at the question. Outside of a few hunters in the Hillsborough Guild, I didn’t think anyone knew about that.

“How the fuck did you know about that?” I demanded, my voice dropping to an almost threatening tone. Vanessa’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t say anything.

“The Society’s contact in your Guild was Skiff,” Blackhawk interjected quickly, “He thought it was significant enough for us to know about. The question remains. How did you hear that?”

“To be truthful, I’m not sure how I did that. I just did, and acted on it,” I answered, still a little guarded. The possibility of the Guildmaster being unaware of the Society was growing. Stephen Vollen was the best lord I have ever served under. I couldn’t let him be killed and not do anything. In the end, I was ineffective.” The two of them let that pass without comment, and I pretended not to see the look that went between the two of them.

“How did you know that the person assembling the weapon was hostile?” Vanessa pressed, “How did you know it wasn’t just one of the hunters or a Knight?”

“From my experience, it sounded like a rifle being assembled, a bolt-action rifle,” I answered, keeping my rising annoyance in check. I had to remember that Vanessa had no history with me. She was asking logical questions about the situation.

“How does what kind of weapon determine hostility?” Vanessa asked, clearly confused by my answer.

“Inside the warehouse, we don’t use rifles. We use sub-machine guns and shotguns,” I answered, “Even outside, the shooters use semi-auto rifles. Bolt-action rifles are used for surgical strikes – not protection details. There was no legitimate reason for anyone to be assembling a bolt-action rifle inside the warehouse.”

“See what I mean?” Chris asked Vanessa. She nodded slowly and took a long sip from the cup in front of her.

“Do you know what you are doing here?” she asked, a sudden seriousness in her voice.

“Meeting a prospective partner and deciding on whether or not I want to join the Society,” I answered, “What are you doing here?” Vanessa was taken aback by my reply. I saw a glimpse of a weakness. Vanessa liked to be in control, and she didn’t recover quickly when that control was lost.

“I’m trying to find out if the lycanthrope in front of me is capable of doing what I need done in the field,” she asserted with a lot more force than was needed. I just shook my head.

“Sorry Blackhawk,” I said, standing up, “I’m sure she’s a good analyst, but nothing has been said that wants me to join.”

“Wait, Ranger,” Blackhawk said, “You are needed here. There’s a war coming – and Hillsborough’s one front. The Society will be helping to get the state ready – and we’ll be doing operations to assist once the war council decides on how to proceed. I need my people out in the field to get me the information that the war council will need. I need operators to protect my field assets and to conduct operations that will make the state stronger for the coming war. Including the retaking of Hillsborough.” Blackhawk was punching my buttons – and doing it damn well. He could see it.

“I need Vanessa out in the field,” Blackhawk said, “And I need someone to keep her from getting killed, giving her help in analysis, and acting on the information she develops. In return for doing these tasks, I’m going to give you a mostly free reign of action in executing these tasks. And, I’ll make sure you’re in on the retaking of Hillsborough.” It was enough to keep me from leaving. I knew Blackhawk was manipulating me, and I was falling for it.

“Okay, I can work with her.”

I retrieved my things from the State Guild and was taken by Blackhawk to my new home. I was expecting a townhouse similar to what I had when I was with the Hillsborough County Guild, but it was actually a small house on the outskirts of the university. It was a single story two bedroom house that mainly catered to college students that didn’t want to live on campus. As I walked around the empty house, Chris explained the locale.

“The Society does most of its admin and intel analysis on the campus of the university. Mainly it’s hiding in the open. So, we try to keep our members close. Furnishings are selected by you and the Society pays for them. Same thing goes for your vehicle.”

“When do I do all these things?” I asked, completing my inspection of the house.

“Over the next week and a half. We want you here during the Bone Moon. The Society always hunts together. May I make a suggestion?” he broached.

“Go ahead,” I answered, not really sure what he was going to say.

“Take Vanessa with you when you go shopping. She is much better interior designers than I suspect you or I am. We do want you to maintain appearances. It helps with the hidden nature of the Society. I’ll bet if you do your own decorating, it will turn out looking like a barracks. She, however, actually has a style that is more mainstream.”

“How good is she really?” I asked him, “At her job, I mean.”

“She is perhaps the finest intelligence analyst I have ever met. I won’t bore you with her accomplishments other than to say that she is quite capable of making excellent use of the fragmented reports we get here. I think if you two communicate freely she will surprise you with her conclusions.”

“What about weapons and field training?” I continued.

“She’s streetwise and knows how to spot a tail, but she has had only rudimentary training in weapons and advanced field training. She was recruited under my predecessor, and he failed to see the use in putting analysts out in the field. Of course, that was before Dade and Broward counties fell to the vampires.”

“I’m going to have to train her myself then,” I said, not really looking forward to it. I’ve never been a good teacher, mostly because of a lack of patience on my part. I usually do my best training in refining the techniques that someone was already using. Hunters never stop learning, and we often learn from each other.

Blackhawk nodded, seeing the annoyance on my face. “She may surprise you. I doubt that she will ever be as proficient as you are, but I think she will grasp what you are going to teach her fairly quickly. Now there’s only one question left.”

“What’s that?” I asked suspiciously.

“What kind of car are you going to get?”

Hangman joined Vanessa and me as we searched through the kin-operated car dealerships. After wasting most of the day, I settled on a black Dodge Ram full-size pickup with an extended cab. It was a custom order rig that the person who ordered it found he could not afford. I had no such problem. It was big and loud, thanks to that huge diesel engine, and came loaded with a bunch of neat goodies, such as a bedliner and hard cover for the bed, and after a quick spin on a secluded driving range, I fell in love with it. Vanessa just grinned at us in a condescending manner as Hangman and I poured over it back at my new house.

Blackhawk was right about Vanessa though. She helped me go through the drudgery of decorating my new home. She responded well to my own tastes in modern furniture and helped me coordinate the rooms of the house. I had a modest bedroom. The other bedroom I turned into an office, complete with a new computer and phone system. The living room looked better than average, and the kitchen was actually neatly put away. I wasn’t sure how long that would last, but it was nice to start out right.

Vanessa later confided in me that interior decorating was what she was originally working towards, but her intellect and kin status brought her into the Society, and she never left. I learned a little of her background as we worked making my house habitable. Her brother and father were both lycanthropes. Her mother was a kin, but Vanessa didn’t say which members of her mother’s family were lycanthropes. She had always known about our world. She had even tried to find the elusive Pathwalkers in order to prove herself to her parents. Fortunately for everyone, she gave up that quest and decided to act like a normal human. She didn’t even become involved with the lycanthropes until her college years when she joined the Society.

“Mark, why are you still here?” she asked suddenly. Vanessa was an outstanding cook, and she was demonstrating her skills as I cleaned my USP. We were both waiting for Hangman to show up. Although Hangman was still learning the ropes at the State Guild, he always seemed to show up at my place for dinner. I was too glad to have him over for me to question why he was at my house instead of at the Guild where he should have been.

“What do you mean?” I asked, confused by the sudden question.

“I was talking to Sam last night, and he told me about you and Elizabeth Vollen,” she answered. I felt anger rage inside me at Hangman’s betrayal and Vanessa’s casual reference to Elizabeth – the Lady-Apparent. Vanessa stepped out of the kitchen with a large pot of pasta and saw my expression. “Mark, calm down.”

“Why?” I growled, “He had no right to tell you that!”

“He had every right,” she answered with an annoying calmness. I forced the slide back onto my pistol, trying to control my impending explosion. She drew her face into a similarly annoyed expression. As I focused on my pistol, Vanessa walked over to me and slapped me upside the head.

“In case you never noticed, Sam doesn’t come over here for you,” Vanessa said as I glared at her, desperately restraining the urge to hit her. “He comes over here for me.” That stopped me in my tracks. My mind began going back every time Vanessa and Hangman were together with me. Over the past week, Hangman had shown up a lot, and yes, he did have a different look in his eyes when he looked at Vanessa. Was that how I looked when I thought of her?

“Sam’s worried about you,” Vanessa explained, “He says you haven’t been acting normally since your county was taken over.”

“So why’d he tell you?” I asked, still angry. The head slap was unexpected.

“That’s what lovers do, you idiot,” Vanessa said, exasperated, “Good God, you’re such a newbie at this stuff. Unlike your dumb ass, Sam and I knew right away. After a few long talks, we were both sure. So, he confided in me what scares him. You not being your normal self scares him.”

“So why ask why I’m still in Tallahassee?” I asked.

“I want to know why you haven’t left to go find her,” Vanessa asked, “If what Sam’s been telling me is true, you’ve gone off the deep end for this Elizabeth Vollen, but you haven’t gone looking for her.” I felt an unfamiliar pain as she talked.

“Why do you care?” I shot back.

“One, because I like you Mark, and I hate to think of you in pain,” she answered, “I also want to know that my partner isn’t going to vanish in the middle of an operation to go chasing some phantom.”

“Do you remember two nights ago when I kicked you and Hangman out early?” I asked. She nodded, a little lost, but willing to see where I was going, “The State Guildmaster arranged for me to sit down with a shaman.” Vanessa’s eyes went wide at my admission. Considering how many times Hangman and I disparaged the shaman in front of her, her reaction didn’t surprise me.

“The Guildmaster was worried about me too. So, he asked Melissa to come over and talk with me.”

“What happened?”

“She and I talked about me – a lot. About my professional side, and my personal side. It was fucking painful.”

“My God, I can only imagine. Did she help?”

“Yes and no. She helped me see objectively acknowledge that the Lady-Apparent is probably dead. She made the pain a little more bearable. I don’t know. I still think the Lady-Apparent’s alive, but I know that I can help her better by my work in the Society. The county doesn’t need a single hunter. It needs the whole damn state to come charging in. I think the Society will accelerate that.” We both fell silent. It was uncomfortable. I admitted this much because Vanessa was my partner, and she needed to know why I was doing this. The Society wasn’t like the Guild – I didn’t work for the Society out of personal honor and pride. I did it for personal – selfish – reasons. Finally, Vanessa spoke.

“You could call her Elizabeth,” Vanessa suggested, “It sounds so stilted when you call her the Lady-Apparent.”

“I can’t, it just hurts too much,” I admitted, “Calling her by her station lets my mind think without devolving into emotion.”

“Okay,” Vanessa answered. She didn’t push it any further. Neither of us mentioned anything about our conversation when Hangman finally joined us.

It was a quiet meal with a lot of meaningful looks between Hangman and Vanessa. Finally, I kicked them both out to think. As I paced through my small house, Elizabeth’s face haunted me. I felt guilty for letting the shaman push Elizabeth to the back of my mind. I wished for the thousandth time that Nick was with me. For some reason, I knew he could help me with my problem. I didn’t trust anyone else. The shaman tried to help me because my work was important to the state. I didn’t blame her for that – it was what shaman did. In lycanthrope society, the needs of the pack – in this case, the state – outweighed the pain of the individual wolf. Pain could be healed after the pack was safe.

When you got right down to it, that was the essential truth of the hunter. We bore the pain to protect the packs. We did the jobs, and bore the pain, to make sure that the packs were safe. We even did the most horrific jobs – and we did it without hesitation. I was ashamed of my earlier disdain for hunters who went through the emotional turmoil of watching their private lives die because of the Guild’s demands. Without warning, my old sarcasm flooded through me. If those bastards managed to struggle through and do what was necessary – then I could damn well do it. I was too good a fucking hunter. I began jotting down notes of things I needed to do to get Vanessa ready for the field.

Elizabeth still haunted my dreams that night.

As I started working with Vanessa, I noticed that she was actually somewhat talented at many of the basic aspects of fieldcraft. She didn’t have any problem spotting tails, losing tails, covertly passing intel, and picking up dead drops. One thing that she was miserably at was shooting. After we had my house set up, I had taken her to a pistol range in the area. I brought several pistols with me, most of them borrowed from Hangman, who in turn, borrowed them from the State Guild. The range was an indoors range that wasn’t too far from the State Guild. I chose that particular range mostly because if Vanessa was going to get into a firefight, it was more than likely to be inside a building. The lighting and the gunshots echoing off the walls make a building a unique shooting environment. We took a place at one of the “doubles” booths that allowed two people to stand at the firing bench rather than one. I laid out the pistols I had brought with me on the bench in front of us. While I loaded them, Vanessa put up the silhouette target.

“Alright, the first I’ll start you out on is the revolver. You had the standard firearms instruction, right?” I asked her over the loud background of the range. She nodded. “Okay, this one is a Ruger GP-100 .357 Magnum revolver. I’ve loaded it with .38 Special bullets so you won’t have to deal with excessive recoil. Now what’s the first thing we’re going to do?”

“Make sure the way is clear,” she answered confidently, hefting the large revolver.

“Nope,” I answered, “I’m teaching you how to combat shoot, not competition. The first thing you need to do is to make sure the gun is loaded.”

“But I saw you load the gun earlier,” she protested.

“Yes, but I’m trying to get you in the habit of checking any strange weapon’s ammo supply before shooting. Will there be times that you can’t check it before shooting? Yes. Is this one of those times? No. Check to make sure the weapon is loaded.”

She fumbled for a moment, until I showed her how to release the cylinder. She looked at the casing bottoms briefly and then began to whip the cylinder back into the frame. My hand shot out and grabbed her wrist before she could continue the motion. She looked up at me in anger.

“What the hell?” she said with her eyes burning with fury. When Vanessa was sure she was right, she didn’t take correction very well. It was an annoying personality quirk, but one I would have to work around if we were to survive in the field.

“First, were any of the primers fired?” I asked.

“What do you mean?” she asked, hotly, in response.

“Those little round things on the base of the casings,” I said, pointing them out on the rounds in the cylinder, “They provide the initial spark to the powder inside the casing, which fires the bullet. With a revolver, you need to check the primers to see if they have small dents on them from the firing pin of the gun. If they do, then the bullet has been fired. Understand?”

She nodded and re-inspected the rounds more carefully. Satisfied, she was about to whip the cylinder back into the frame, and again my hand caught her again. I could see in her eyes the internal battle. She was annoyed, but she knew me well enough that I wasn’t trying to annoy her – I was trying to keep her alive.

“That looks really good on television and in the movies, but it’s going to damage the gun,” I told her, “We try very hard to treat our guns properly, because you never know when you’ll have to depend on them. If you don’t take care of your weapons, Murphy will fuck you over like nobody’s business.”

She was getting frustrated, but she securely locked the cylinder into place. She pointed the gun at the silhouette’s looming figure about ten yards away. She was holding the revolver wrong, but not dangerously so. I watched without comment as she yanked the trigger. The gun bucked slightly up from the recoil and a hole appeared just above the silhouette’s right shoulder.

“You probably scared him,” I commented as the two of us surveyed the target.

“Very funny, asshole,” she said in her usual sweet voice, “Now show me how to hit it.”

“Outstretch your right arm in front of you, and then support it with your left hand. Don’t lock your elbows, allow your arms to jump up a little to compensate for recoil. What you have now is the Weaver stance, which is what you should be practicing. Got it?” I asked.

She nodded her head as she placed her arms like I was showing her. I finished up the stance by moving her arms and legs for her. When I was satisfied that she had the stance right, and that she wasn’t uncomfortable in that position, I began the next part.

“Can you see the front sight on the gun?” I asked.

“The white dot in the middle of the other two dots,” she answered, slightly annoyed with all of my corrections. I kept my own frustration under check. Vanessa didn’t know how gentle I was being with her.

“Yup. Place the dot over the target’s center and then line up the other two dots. Got it?” I asked, watching for her to nod, “Good, now relax. Gently squeeze the trigger. Don’t yank it and don’t jerk it.” I watched as she gently pulled back on the trigger. The hammer of the revolver rose slowly and fell violently onto primer of the round in the chamber. The gun roared again as the bullet was thrown out of the chamber by the explosion of the powder within the brass casing. The bullet hit the target about two inches to the right of the center. Center mass and definitely a kill shot.

“Much better, Vanessa,” I complimented her. She beamed at the hit.

“Pretty good, huh,” she said. I might have agreed, but she was going to have to do much better than that before I could feel safe with her having a weapon in the field. The real world was a harsh test for the inexperienced.

“I said much better, but you still have a ways to go yet. You took about thirty seconds to get that hit. When we’re done, you should be able to hit the center of the target with less than a second to fire.”

“Less than a second? Are you kidding me?” she asked. I picked up one of the automatic pistols that were on the bench, a stock Colt 1911A1 .45. I hit the magazine release, inspected the rounds, and slipped the magazine back into the pistol. I pulled the slide back, loading the first round into the chamber.

“Time me,” I said as I pointed the Colt at the target.

The sights came into line, and my finger squeezed the trigger. The pistol roared once, then twice, and continued for another five times as I blew out a two-inch section of the target’s chest. The slide locked back on the empty magazine, signaling me to quit firing. I lowered the pistol and released the magazine.

“Less than five seconds for seven shots,” she stated, looking at her watch.

“All of them placed in roughly the same area. That was a bad shooting set for me. The Guild expects better performance. Vanessa, I don’t expect you to match a Guild shooter, but I wanted to show you exactly how weak of a shooter you are right now.”

“You expect me to learn how to do that in a few hours?”

“Of course not. Not even in a few weeks, although you could if I constantly drilled you. The first few sessions are going to be getting you to instinctively get into the right stance and hit a high center mass without a problem. We also need to a find a weapon that suits you. Now, let’s get back to work, okay?”

The shooting session went mostly well. Vanessa was a quick study, and she went through all the guns that I had brought with me. By the end of the session, she had the timing mostly down, but her accuracy left a great deal to be desired. At least she was hitting the target with all of her rounds, but there was a good enough chance that the target would still be walking afterward, which was never a good thing in our line of work. Still, it could have been much worse.

]]> http://www.derek-ward.com/2008/10/chapter-15/feed/ 0 http://www.derek-ward.com/2008/09/chapter-14/ http://www.derek-ward.com/2008/09/chapter-14/#comments Mon, 15 Sep 2008 18:41:20 +0000 derek http://www.derek-ward.com/?p=52

Chapter 14

The Only Constant In Life Is Change

Two days of cautious travel later, Nick pulled the Suburban up to a travel information center outside of Tallahassee. Nick got out of the truck and made his way to a pay telephone bank as Hangman and I checked the hard drives and all of our information that we had on our conspiracy, if that was what it was. After we were satisfied that everything was intact, Hangman cleared a green metal park bench while I hit the vending machines for snack foods and soda. As I walked back to the bench where Hangman was sitting, I reflected on the past couple of days.

I had woken up from my nap in the back of the Suburban as Nick pulled into a grocery store. I shook the cobwebs from my mind and pushed through the immediate flash of longing pain. If this was what was going to happen every time I woke up, I wasn’t sure how long I could go on. Nick looked back at me with that same disturbing sympathetic look. I shot him a challenging look, but his face didn’t change. “C’mon Ranger, we need provisions.”

“If Ranger wants to stay here, I’ll go,” Hangman offered with a note of confused sympathy in his voice. I grimaced and started to move. I had a nasty suspicion that Nick wanted to get me alone for a bit. I was getting that vibe from him. Usually, Nick wanted to try and get me to tone down my tactics. Nick always thought that I did things a little too much on the spectacular side. This time, however, I didn’t think that Nick wanted to talk about my tactics. There was something else on his mind, and the only clue was that sympathetic look on his face.

“Thanks anyway Hangman, but I need to move,” I told our younger friend so Nick wouldn’t have to say anything, “After that nap, I need to get my muscles stretched a bit.” Hangman nodded and settled himself down in his seat. I climbed out of the truck, my hand brushing the grip of my USP in its small of the back holster. Touching my pistol was like a Catholic rubbing a saint medallion. It gave me a sense of reassurance and confidence when I was lacking. All I felt like doing was turning around the truck and charging back into the fray until I found Elizabeth. I was shrouded in emotions that were completely new to me. I had this profound love encased in a terror that had never touched me before. If this was the horror that was felt when Vollen used his psychic powers, I understood the depths of the Guildmaster’s bewilderment by my resistance. All of this was on top of something I had never felt before – a strong and almost overpowering urge to abandon the job. Until that moment, the job was what had defined me. All of my interests and all of my beliefs sprouted from being a hunter – by being the best damn hunter in Hillsborough – but now was there something else. Someone else that had enough power over me that the idea of abandoning my job didn’t feel like heresy. It almost felt like the job was abandoning my duty, not the other way around. Which is why I needed to speak with Nick.

The two of us walked into the grocery store. For me, it was kind of a disorienting experience. In less than six hours, I had gone from furious and desperate fighting against the minions of my race’s ancient enemies to the peace and quiet of suburban commerce. I didn’t say anything as we got a cart and began meandering through the aisles. Nick remained quiet through the cooler aisles, almost as if he was building to something.

“If you want to leave Hangman and me, I think we would both understand,” Nick told me, “I know I would at least.” I looked at him, feeling almost betrayed, but also somewhat relieved. I had always maintained a façade of casual superiority among other lycanthropes. It was always a matter of going on the offense about my heritage when dealing with most individuals. No one had really managed to get past that façade, including those who were supposed to be my friends – like Nick. For some reason, I finally felt like I could speak to Nick without fear of losing his respect. We stopped in the middle of the aisle, and I looked Nick directly in the eye. I knew that right then and there, I could walk away and try to find Elizabeth, and Nick would not judge me.

“I really don’t know what to do Nick,” I admitted, finally letting my guard down, “For the first time in my entire life, my professional life and my personal life are completely at odds.”

“Considering this is the first time that you’ve actually had a personal life,” Nick chided me, “You don’t aim low do you?”

“I’ve got all that sniper training,” I retorted, “It’s always aim for the top.” Nick and I chuckled at each other.

“What are your instincts telling you?” Nick asked. I knew that Nick trusted my instincts almost more than I did. He always asked me that same question when I had a dilemma.

“That she’s alive,” I answered immediately, “But that I need to get to Tallahassee with the two of you. I can’t abandon the job.” Nick just nodded, not with approval or disapproval, just understanding. After all, we were hunters once all was said and done. There was a reason that hunters had a hard time with relationships. Our jobs always had to come first. Finally, I understood the torment some of my colleagues went through when they had to choose the job over their love. I had silently admonished them for their “weakness.” That would never happen again. Lost in thought, I almost didn’t hear my phone ringing.

“If you and Nick are done with your love play, you’ve got company,” Hangman said in a hushed tone, “About five leeches just walked into the store. One is prowling the lot. I think they’re looking for us.” Damn, those bastards were moving fast. I thought our escape window was good for at least another twelve hours.

“Take down the prowler as quietly as possible,” I told Hangman, “Nick and I will deal with the ones in the store.” Nick looked over at me as I hand-signed that we had vampires hunting us. He just nodded, and I could see his eyes slide from compassion to killing. Nick continued to push the cart down the aisle as I went to scout for the vampires.

For the record, trying to be inconspicuous while looking for a group in a grocery store isn’t always easy. With the early darkness of Florida winter, the vampires had managed to come out while many people were doing their routine shopping. With the store as crowded as it was, I didn’t want to use my pistol. Humans did unpredictable things when gun play started. I was left to use only what was around me. Fortunately, I was pretty good at doing crazy things like this. The first things I had to get were some wet floor signs.

“Nick meet me at the end of Aisle 12,” I said over my phone, “Pick up some toilet paper and some lighter fluid.” I had an idea for dealing with the leeches, but I was going to have to work fast, and I was going to need to get the humans out of the way. I walked up to the customer service desk. The young girl behind the counter looked up at me with sparkling eyes and a brilliant smile. The picture of what a customer service rep should look like. Glaring got rid of some of the humans in front of me. Shoving took care of the last two.

“Get on the intercom and have everyone leave the store,” I ordered her with the Wolf’s Growl. Her welcoming eyes immediately darkened with fear. Her manager noticed something wrong and joined us. I menaced him and told him in the same Growl, “Everyone must leave.”

A stammering voice came over the intercom telling all of the patrons that they were required to leave immediately. The customers looked about with various looks of bewilderment as I moved through the throngs. I needed to get the rest of my components before the vampires caught up with Nick and me. I ducked between the aisles, narrowly avoiding the few vampires trying to find us. Preparations took a few moments, and then I went out to meet my pursuers. It didn’t take long.

“Hi shitheads,” I growled as the gang of vampires came into the main aisle. Their fingernails were unpainted, and they had that same wild look that many of the vampires in the Manor possessed. There was something different about these vampires. Something almost feral, for lack of a better word. The group of them gave me twisted smiles as they locked their eyes on me. I still wanted to use my pistol, but I kept my hand away. I already had a plan in place for a reason. The eight vampires launched at me, sprinting down the aisle at me. I took a sidestep into my trap. I was on the other end of aisle with a waiting Nick, who was holding a lighter. The vampires scrambled into the aisle – and hit the pool of floor polish. The eight vampires sprawled onto the floor and slid into the waiting lighter fluid. Nick lit the matches in his hand and let them fall into the lighter fluid. A whoosh of air being consumed followed the wave of flame. The vampires had less than a second to realize what was happening to them before their bodies were consumed by fire. Primal screams filled the aisle as Nick and I watched the writhing bodies burn. My phone vibrated at my side.

“Humans are on their way,” Hangman reported, “You two might want to get the hell out of there.” I hand-signed what Hangman said to Nick, who nodded silently. The two of us began jogging to the front door.

“We are on our way,” I said to Hangman, “Did you take care of the prowler?”

“Yeah, and I’ll never get the stench off my good knife,” Hangman replied, “I’ve got the truck running. We’ll get the hell out of Dodge as soon as the two of you get here.” At least the pup was thinking on his feet. Human involvement was the last thing we needed. Nick and I piled into the Suburban and Hangman pulled the truck out of the parking lot. Less than a minute after we pulled out, a flurry of emergency vehicles screamed into the parking lot. Hangman slammed on the accelerator, but backed off when Nick quietly chided him to drive normally. It was a typical mistake made by rookies. When fleeing from the scene, it was better to blend in with the surroundings rather than getting out as fast as possible. Running away stood out in bystanders’ minds, and they tended to call the authorities.

Thwarted from getting some real food, the three of us decided to just head to Tallahassee. The quickest way north would have been either the interstate or up the Suncoast Parkway, but both of those routes would be under surveillance. We agreed that the attack at the supermarket wasn’t happenstance. The TCV was trying to eliminate what remained of the lycanthropes of Hillsborough County. We had the weapons and the ability to take on pretty much anything the TCV could throw at us, but it would delay us. Time was critical, and we had wasted far too much time dealing with the vampires in the supermarket. So we headed north on Dale Mabry, figuring on using county and state roads to get to our destination.

There was some tension as we crossed County Line Road, the traditional border between Hillsborough County and Pasco County. Fifty years ago, we would have been required to immediate proceed to the Pasco Manor and state our business before Lord Smith. These days, lycanthropes could cross the borders without restraint as long as it didn’t endanger the county, which is exactly what the three of us were doing. Fleeing into the county could easily be construed by any of the participants as bringing Pasco into the fight with the TCV.

Just as I let my tension ease, flashing lights blazed behind us. I looked back to see the blue and white lights of the Florida Highway Patrol. My instincts began screaming as Hangman dutifully began slowing down and pulling off to the side of the highway. I had a nasty feeling that we weren’t being pulled over by a legitimate state trooper. I drew my USP. Nick looked back at me as he heard me flicking off the safety.

“What is it Ranger?” he asked, giving me a questioning look.

“I don’t like this,” I half-whispered, “Something’s wrong. I can feel it.” Nick tensed up. Nick always said he thought my instincts almost bordered on the clairvoyant, and from his reaction, he wasn’t being sarcastic. Hangman looked at me through the rear view mirror with a confused look.

“What do I do?” Hangman asked with a forced confidence, “I can punch it.” I looked back as our vehicles slowed. It wasn’t the normal Crown Vic cruiser, but the much sportier Camaro. Outrunning a police sports car in a heavily loaded SUV wasn’t really an option. The good news was that the Camaro could only hold two occupants. Even if it was vampires, it would be two leeches, maybe three if they were squeezing in. Even if we were dealing with Bleeders, that was good odds. Nick had already drawn and concealed his monster revolver, and I had mine weapon ready to engage.

“Pull over,” Nick told Hangman, “Despite Ranger’s instincts, this could be a normal traffic stop. We play this normal until we see different. If it starts to go down Hangman, get out of the truck as fast as you can.” There was a wait after our vehicles stopped. If this was a legitimate stop, then the trooper was running the Suburban’s plates. If it wasn’t, then reinforcements were probably on their way. To make matters worse, I couldn’t make out the car’s occupants beyond the bright lights of the headlights and the spotlight. My instincts were fucking shrieking danger signals, but there wasn’t anything I could do. My instincts were scarily good, but they had one problem. They gave me warnings on danger – any danger, including those that I could get out of without gunfire.

Two more sets of flashing lights appeared in front of us. These were red and blue, which meant county deputies. If they were baddies, those deputies were more likely to be ghouls, which meant that the three of us were about to be in the middle of a nasty crossfire. I wanted to roll out of the truck and start the firefight, but I was always more comfortable being on the offensive. The Guildmaster had been trying to break me –. A wave of pain swept through me as I thought of the Guildmaster. I locked down the pain and focused on the deputies getting out of their cars. I couldn’t see them very well, but I could see the silhouettes of long rifles. More blue lights from behind announced the arrival of another state trooper. A Tahoe this time. The SUV could hold another four to six, which meant we had eight to our rear and about four to our front. This was not good. The deputies lowered their rifles. The quiet of the night exploded into sound.

I kicked my door open and rolled out onto the asphalt as the muzzles of the deputies’ rifles lit up. I rolled up into a crouch and lined up the nearest deputy with my USP. As I finally saw the deputy’s face, I nearly dropped my pistol. I had nearly shot another lycanthrope. It was then I finally realized that the deputies in front of us weren’t firing at us – they were firing at the state troopers behind us. I swung around to join in the fight, but I could see that the lycanthropes had already finished the job.

I crept up to the two state trooper vehicles, my pistol firmly in front of me. Another lycanthrope came up next to me with an assault rifle and covered my blind side. The lycanthrope was a hunter. I could recognize the training as the two of us moved towards the Tahoe. I had looked over at the Camaro and saw its single occupant lying dead next to the car. The ghoul had managed to take a step out of the car before a burst of fire had cut him down. The front of the Tahoe had been shredded by rifle fire and its front two occupants had been slaughtered, but I wanted to make sure that there weren’t any others in the back of the vehicle. The hunter at my side tapped me on the shoulder. Hand signs gave suggestions on how to handle the approach. His idea was good, so I agreed.

The two of us strode up to the silent SUV in a low crouch. I shed human for true as we came alongside the truck. The smells of death and gunfight flooded my senses as I left the paleness of the human world behind. As the hunter circled behind me, I holstered my USP and grasped the passenger door. I ripped the door off of the truck, holding it as a shield against possible fire, and slid back as the other hunter rushed forward with his rifle. He cleared the Tahoe as I dropped the door and quick drew my USP. There were only two in the Tahoe. Both of them were vampires. Both of them wore black-painted claws. The Bleeders had been after us. I looked over at the hunter, actually seeing him for the first time. The multi-colored hair was the first thing that I noticed, and I just broke down into an exhausted laugh. Damned Punk, he was actually getting good at this. The last time I worked with him, he was a fucking pup that nearly got us both killed with some stupid mistake. At the moment, I was too happy to see him to give a damn.

Punk and I walked back to my truck. Nicky and Hangman were standing next to the Suburban with the other hunters. One of the hunters took a couple of steps toward me, and I recognized the Guildmaster of Pasco County. I had worked with the Pasco Chapter enough times that the Guildmaster seemed to have recognized me. Of the three of us, I was technically the highest ranking member, and Pasco’s chapter was always a bit on the formal side.

“You can tell Erik that the debt has been paid,” the Pasco Guildmaster said with an almost aristocratic formality. I didn’t know what debt he was talking about, but the Guildmaster’s serious tone bespoke of an old and personal debt between the two Guildmasters.

“He’s fallen,” Nick answered quietly. The Pasco Guildmaster bowed his head as he heard of his friend’s death. I knew that the Guildmaster was on good terms with our neighboring counties, but that wasn’t the reaction I had been expecting.

“We’re sealing the Hillsborough border,” the Pasco Guildmaster told us. His voice had that unique huskiness of a lycanthrope holding back his emotions. My voice had sounded that way as the three of us had been sealing the Guild. “Get to Tallahassee, and try to get some support down here. Something horribly wrong is going on here. Hillsborough should not have fallen.”

“Watch out for witch-hunters,” I said from the backseat, “They had three full shields attacking our Manor.” The veteran hunter’s eyes went wide in the unique horror that witch-hunters evoked from us. “And somehow the TCV brought in hundreds of new vampires. Didn’t think there were that many vampires in the fucking state.”

“We will be careful,” the Pasco Guildmaster told us, “You must get this information to the State Guildmaster. Witch-hunters and vampires acting in concert? Something is very wrong here. I’ll seal this border as I’ve been ordered, but if State doesn’t send some folks down here, I will find out what happened on my own. Polk will help me, and so will Sarasota.”

“Who the hell ordered the border to be sealed so fast?” I asked, “The Manor fell less than eight hours ago.” Events were happening way too fast. It had taken nearly a week before the Prince had ordered the disputed territories sealed, and now Hillsborough was sealed in less than a day. The Pasco Guildmaster studied me a moment before he answered. His face was one of concern and shared worry.

“My lord ordered it,” the Pasco Guildmaster answered in a calm tone, “At the time, I didn’t think about it. We had just found out about the ghoul following you, and I scrambled to get my people out here. Although I think it’s something that I will look into.”

We traveled up to Tallahassee using the back roads, occasionally meeting with our counterparts in other chapters of the Guild. Most of them looked at us as outcasts, because we lost our county. They did, however, give the three of us some help and supplies. An associate of Hangman’s from their time together at the Guild’s training camp told us in Perry how to get a hold of the State Guild easily. Which was what led us to the travel information center that the State Guild had been using as a checkpoint for all hunters going into Tallahassee.

Leon County, in which Tallahassee resides, is the only county without a lord, because it is ruled directly by the Prince of Florida. As such, its local chapter of the Hunters Guild is the State Guild. The State Guild was a far more elite organization than the local chapters. Membership is strictly by invitation only, and only the best hunters are invited. Because of this, the State Guild has a more aloof attitude to the rest of the hunters in the state. From the few that I had met (including Jessica Werstandt), they deserved their reputation. Because of the elite status of the county and the State Guild, regular hunters are not allowed to come into Leon County unless: a) you were invited; b) you were escorting a lord, lady, or Guildmaster; or c) you had been cleared for visitation by a member of the State Guild. Nick had gone to get us cleared to visit the State Guildmaster.

I spread out my collection of chips, candy, and cans of soda onto the table as Hangman leaned on his arm and looked drowsily around. I distributed my collection between Hangman and me, leaving some for Nick, as Hangman continued to sweep the perimeter with his eyes. Satisfied that we were “alone,” Hangman grabbed at his first soda and popped the tab. As he gulped it down noisily, Nick returned from the phones.

“This was the best you could do for lunch Ranger?” asked Nicky, staring down at his allotment of the snacks and soda. I could tell he wasn’t enthused with my choice of entrees.

“You really want some of the MRE’s in the back of the truck?” I asked sourly. We had finished the last of the real food that morning. He decided not to press the issue and carefully ripped open a bag of chips. I had managed to push Elizabeth to the back of my mind, focusing hard on the job that the Guildmaster had given us, but I was wearing thin. Nick’s comment had gotten me more angered that it should have. I took a few deep breaths and tried to fortify my mental barriers. The job had to come first.

“The State Guild will be sending someone to ‘fetch’ us,” Nick related between chips. His tone told Hangman and me exactly what he thought of that wording. He was definitely insulted by something, but I just wrote it off to the State Guild’s arrogance. They deserved their rep, but the way they carried themselves could be more than a bit annoying. “At any rate, the hunter on the line said that they had been expecting to hear from us yesterday, but they had figured we were being cautious on the drive up.” I almost laughed out loud as Nick’s face twisted in insult at the lycanthrope on the phone.

“So what are they going to do about Hillsborough?” Hangman asked.

“Do you really think that I told them about Hillsborough over an open line?” Nick responded. Hangman rolled his eyes back and muttered a curse under his breath. Nick continued to brew about the responses he had gotten from the lycanthrope at the State Guild as he ate his food. I finished my lunch and picked up the other can of soda I had and got up from the table.

I walked back to the Suburban and checked the removable hard disk drives in their box. I wished I had a chance to check them on a computer to make sure that all the data was still there. I placed them back in their case and put it back into the truck. I also checked all of our “proof” of the conspiracy again, and swallowed a short burst of anxiety. I didn’t know what the Prince would do to us when we told him what we had, and what I knew of the Prince was sketchy at best.

The Prince of Florida had presided over Florida in for the past sixty years. His father was killed during the Great Fatherland War that both the former and the current Prince served in, leading Florida’s warriors against the vampires and their ghouls. The Prince was a strong proponent of the Peace and worked hard to make sure his lords followed the Peace. All of that changed over the past decade. The Lords of Broward and Dade Counties went missing as open war with the vampires erupted on the southeastern tip of the state. The Prince’s inability to quell the fighting and reestablish the lordships eroded his standing with the lords, and his power within the state. Since the Prince had no heir-apparent, some of the more ambitious lords were already jostling to see who would ascend to the throne. With the fall of Hillsborough County to the vampire, it was more than likely that the Prince would be ousted from his throne by the war council that he would be forced to convene. From everything that I saw, that was probably the ultimate goal of whoever ordered Lord Vollen’s assassination. We didn’t have enough hard information to guess who this group would put forth as their candidate. I’m sure that Nicky and I had a few good ideas, but without hard evidence, and a strong ally on the council – which the prince was not, unfortunately – we wouldn’t be able to stop them. At least not politically. To be honest, if I discovered who ordered Vollen’s assassination, I would make damn sure that he was dead by the next Bone Moon.

I looked up as a new Japanese compact pulled into the spot next to me. Out stepped a smallish lycanthrope, about five and a half feet tall. Out of the other door was a giant. The lycanthrope must have topped at just under seven feet, and that was in human form. He probably nudged ten feet in true form. Both stood by the car in human form, watching me as I put my back up against the truck. I looked back at the car with an incredulous stare, trying to figure out how that behemoth had fit in the tiny seat.

“Hello hunter,” the smallish lycanthrope said to me. His voice was high-pitched and off-key. It took me a moment to realize that the lycanthrope in front of me wasn’t more than fifteen or sixteen years old, easily in his tysach years. He was dressed in jeans and a white t-shirt with a yellow smiley face with a bullet hole in the forehead embossed on it. All I could think was that this pup should have been in tysach, not playing at being a hunter. What was going on in the State Guild, assuming this pup was from the Guild?

“Who are you, pup?” I asked cautiously, my hand sliding back to the butt of my pistol in its small of the back holster. Nick and Hangman had seen the two pull up and were making their way back to me. Both of them wore very serious expressions, although Nicky’s held a trace of – anger? I turned my attention back to the pup, as soon as I was sure backup was on its way.

“We are from the State Guild,” he said with an arrogant flippancy that made me want to reach out and touch him very harshly. He held up his identification card. It looked like a card for a video rental store, but it had several identifying marks on it that told hunters that the lycanthrope whose face was on this card was a member of the State Hunters Guild of Florida. I checked the picture on the card to the prick’s face. I didn’t bother reading the name.

“Yippee,” I responded, dryly, “What the fuck do you want?”

“You three are required to follow us to the State Guild and wait there for the State Guildmaster to deal with you.” The little prick sounded so pompous about the whole thing. Out of habit, and hidden desire, my mind calculated the distance between where I was standing by the Suburban and the pup’s throat. However, that thought faded as I remembered that one, I badly needed to talk to the State Guildmaster, and two, that behemoth behind the prick was probably his partner, or some such thing, and would pick me off before I had a chance to finish anything.

“Get in your plastic car and get moving, we’ll follow in a moment,” said Nicky as he moved around the compact and towards me, never letting his gaze drop from the giant. His voice sounded warning, and I wondered what the hell was going on. Hangman swiftly moved around Nick and I and got into the driver’s seat of the truck as the two State hunters lowered themselves into their small car. I knew that Nick was angry at the big one for some reason, but I didn’t know why. For that reason, I pushed Nick into the backseat and climbed into the shotgun seat. I had the odd feeling that if I let him take the shotgun seat, he might use the twelve-gauge under the seat on the tiny car. I had never been to Tallahassee before, so the roundabout route through the city lost me. I finally quit trying to find my way around and laid back into the seat. Hangman continued to follow the compact car until it reached the parking lot of a four story office complex. The complex was the standard block of one-way, bluish-tinted glass with an entrance door on the south side that was barely distinguishable. Standing by the door was a lycanthrope in the uniform of a private security guard.

I climbed out of the Suburban and walked to the front of the truck where Hangman and Nick joined me. The prick and the big guy walked towards the door. The prick motioned for us to follow him into the building. As the two approached the guard, they showed their ID’s to him. After checking them, he looked us over.

“They’re the boys from Hillsborough. The Guildmaster wants to talk to them,” the prick explained with a barely contained tone of annoyance in his voice. It sounded like this pup, who was probably a good fifteen years younger than me and didn’t have any of the natural movements of a hunter, was annoyed at having to deal with us. I made a decision. The guard came over to us with a neutral expression on his face.

“What weapons do you have?” he asked.

“Do we have to be truthful?” asked Hangman, hoping to lighten the mood between Nick, who was still glaring at the behemoth, and myself, who was contemplating violent action against the little prick. Both of us looked at our younger companion with quizzical glances. He just smiled back at us in response, and I just had to shake my head. Sometimes the pup did the oddest things that came in handy.

“It doesn’t hurt,” the guard answered, his tone lightening with Hangman’s remark. Hangman pulled out his Kimber, and showed where he had several knives. Nick had his big Smith & Wesson .500 Magnum, and a pair of throwing knives. I had my H&K USP .45 Tactical. A boot knife and several throwing knives finished out my load. The guard nodded and let the five of us in the door.

The first two floors of the office complex were an open air courtyard with several Asian-style gardens surrounding the pebbled walkway. Offices lined the walls. A pair of open staircases were on the west and east walls. An elevator bank was at the north side. We followed the two in silence to the elevator bank. As we waited for a car, Hangman asked, “Is this your Guild?”

“Yeah,” the prick answered, surprised that someone could even ask such a stupid question.

I flashed hand signals to Hangman. He turned to the prick and asked, “Where’s the Guildmaster’s office?”

“Fourth floor,” he answered. The behemoth looked over at Hangman, allowing me to grab Nick’s attention and flash him some signals. He just nodded after I was done.

The elevator toned and three of us pushed past the two into the car. When the behemoth looked at us strange, I answered his look with, “We like having our backs against the wall.”

He shrugged at the comment and stood by his partner, who was preoccupied with pressing the elevator button. The door closed and the elevator car began to ascend. As the two watched the digital floor display, I quickly counted down with my hand to Nick and Hangman. I closed my fist and pulled it downward in the “go” signal.

My fist shot out and caught the prick in the back of the neck. His body was thrown against the elevator control panel. The prick wasn’t expecting the blow and he just collapsed to the ground from the hit. His partner loomed over me with a murderous look in his eyes. Nick quickly laid him out with a hit to his knee, followed by a quick series of blows to his torso. As he was finishing with the behemoth, I placed a haymaker punch on the nose of the prick and sent him into dreamland.

As the elevator toned, the three of us causally walked over their crumpled forms. As we walked through the halls, I noticed that none of the doors had any identifiers on them. So, I grabbed the first hunter I saw.

“Where’s the Guildmaster’s office?” I asked.

“Who are you?” he asked in response.

“I’m Ranger, and we’re the hunters from Hillsborough.”

“Where are your escorts?”

“We left them in the elevator,” I answered nonchalantly. We produced our Guild identification cards and attempted to look innocent.

“Second left, then four doors down.”

The State Guildmaster was a sour-faced lycanthrope named Scott Franken. He was in his early fifties, wearing his graying dark hair in a crew cut. Like many lycanthropes, he wore a full beard that was still mostly dark but had a few streaks of grey. Dressed in a black suit, he looked up in surprise as the three of us walked into his Spartan office. He leaned back into his chair and studied us in silence for a long minute.

“Where is my nephew and his partner?” he asked in a deep even tone. A flutter of anxiety came over me, but I managed to answer in an equally even tone.

“We left them in the elevator.” He continued to study me for a moment.

“I know Nicholas, so I’m assuming that you’re Ranger. Your other friend isn’t old enough for your file.” The Guildmaster pulled out a manila folder from a desk drawer and plopped into onto the desk. My name was in block letters on the tab. He turned to Nick. “I’m glad you’re here, Nicholas.”

“Really?” Nick responded, in a controlled voice, “Why is that?”

“The prince has need of you. You hold a very unique position right now.”

“There is something more important than any position I hold right now,” Nick said. I took a sidelong glance at Nick, who seemed very nervous all of the sudden. “We believe that one or more of the lords are plotting against the prince. They may have assassinated the Lord Vollen.”

“Do you have any proof?” asked the State Guildmaster.

“Nothing concrete,” I answered, “I was up on the catwalks when the assassin took his shot. The shooter positioned himself so that the railing would deflect our normal kill shot. That kind of familiarity with our tactics tell me that the shooter was either a current or former hunter – and a damned good one at that. That was our first clue that the assassination of Stephen Vollen was a lycanthrope-instigated assassination”

“Are you sure it wasn’t just a rogue hunter hired by the vampire?” the State Guildmaster asked me. The look in his eyes and the tone of his voice told me he was probing, but not overly skeptical about what I was telling him.

“I talked to the head of the Bleeders at the time,” I answered, “He pretty much confirmed that the Inner Council of the TCV had nothing to do with it, and there weren’t any independents vampires at the time with the resources or contacts to bring someone of that caliber in.”

“How do you know that?” the State Guildmaster countered, “I imagine a powerful independent would be able to covertly pull something like this off. Even your own Red Knights concluded it the TCV was most likely behind it.”

“That’s because the Guildmaster was keeping evidence and information from the Knights while running a second, covert, investigation,” Nick answered, “The political situation was too tense, and the chapter leaders didn’t want it known to the packs that a hunter had assassinated a beloved lord.” The State Guildmaster gave Nick a cool look. It wasn’t dislike, but rather a controlled expression.

“That leads us into other evidence,” Hangman chimed in, “The weapon recovered at the scene was loaded with Silver Shoks in 7.62 mm NATO. I don’t know about the rest of the state, but we’ve only just started getting this round within the past year to supplant the Winchester partial-jacket. That leads us back to lycanthrope society where a ready supply of the ammunition used was actually available.”

“Further, during the war with the vampire, I recovered information that appeared to show alliances county-by-county when open war erupted in Hillsborough,” Nick continued, “Our analysis is that a lord is making a power play and the information I recovered was a graphical representation of his most probable enemies and allies.”

“A power play for what?”

“My guess would be the throne,” Nick replied cooly.

“I suspected this much,” he began, “Too many things were happening too fast. I need to see those files to fully confirm your story, but I think that I better take you to the Manor first. The prince knows of my suspicions, but he has dismissed them out of hand. Now, maybe he’ll listen more carefully.”

The door crashed open behind us. Nick and Hangman leveled their guns at the visitors, as I pulled out a pair of throwing blades. The prick and the behemoth had awakened and were very upset. Fortunately, they had enough sense to back off when they saw that the three of us were ready to dance.

“David, John,” the State Guildmaster said quietly over the tense moment, “I’m disappointed you didn’t show these hunters to my door.”

“Uncle,” the prick whined, “They attacked us. With no provocation at all.”

“You should have been more careful. These three are very good hunters. I doubt that arrogance you wear so proudly on your sleeve impressed them at all. You might be the youngest hunter accepted by the State Guild, but you are definitely not in these three’s class.” The prick’s face fell, and then twisted in anger as the Guildmaster dressed him down in front of us.

“They haven’t even been invited to join the State Guild. How good can they be?” the prick asked the Guildmaster. In response, I nonchalantly flicked one of the blades I had in my hand. It whistled by his ear and buried itself in the wall behind him. The Guildmaster laughed heartily as the prick grabbed his ear in panic. The behemoth lurched at me, until Nick put the barrel of his Smith to the behemoth’s temple.

“We danced before,” Nick stated very quietly, pulling back the hammer on the revolver, “Do you want to go again?” At least that revealed something about Nick’s past in Tallahassee. The two of them were definitely not friendly.

“Nicholas,” the Guildmaster said, in a commanding tone, “Put that gun away. We have more important things to do than blow poor John’s brains all over my upholstery.” With that, the State Guildmaster stood up, straightening his suit. “David, John, please tell Mitch to go over CQC techniques with the two of you immediately. You need a refresher in close quarters combat.” I assumed Mitch was the State Guild’s combat training specialist. Hillsborough’s Guild didn’t have any teachers. We taught and learned from each other. Trainers tended to take up spots in the county chapters that were better served with operators. The State Guild, however, had more members and could obviously afford the extra wolf. Franken motioned them out of his office and then led us out of the office as well. The State Guildmaster led us through the maze of corridors to an unmarked elevator. We entered silently and made our way to a subterranean passageway. The State Guildmaster led us over to a dressing room where we were told to take off our normal clothing. After that, we shed our human forms for that of true form, and then put on the loose-fitting jumpsuits provided. After strapping on our weapons, we put the long, black formal robes that lycanthropes wore when the top levels of the aristocracy received them.

The passage led on a twisting route under the city of Tallahassee. According to Nick, who played tour guide as the State Guildmaster led us down the passageway, the passageway was a relatively new construct. It had been built about twenty years ago, when the new Manor was built. There actually were three passageways. One led to the Hunters Guild. The second led to the Order of Spirits’ house. The last led to a hotel run by the prince’s subordinates. All of them met up at a reception are under the new Manor, where the Black Knights, the prince’s personal guard (like a State Guild of Red Knights), would clear us into the house. The tunnel stood about fifteen feet high, allowing for the size of lycanthropes in their true form. The passageway wasn’t lit, making the lycanthropes who traversed it use their supernatural vision. The floor was mystically-smoothed limestone. The natural aquifers that provided Florida with a great deal of its fresh water had been mystically altered to allow for the subterranean tunnels and acted as a natural cooling system for the tunnels. They also hid the smells from the city’s sewage system. After about fifteen minutes, the darkness began to brighten as we approached what Nick had referred to as “the landing.” Another five minutes passed as the light gradually increased, allowing us to see the crevices and cracks in the limestone walls and ceiling that had been part of a long-rerouted aquifer. The end of the tunnel was an arch where a pair of lycanthropes were standing. Both were in true form, standing well into eight feet tall, about average for a lycanthrope. Both were loosely clothed in black jumpsuits. One of them was holding a ten foot long metal pole, an inch in diameter. The other was cradling a Steyr TMP.

“Don’t look too happy to see us, do they?” I commented to Nick. He just glared at the two, much as he did at the behemoth back at the State Guild. I wondered if he knew, and hated, everyone in Tallahassee.

“If you thought your lord’s Red Knights were paranoid, you won’t believe the scrutiny of the Black Knights. They look on everyone as an immediate threat to the prince, especially hunters,” responded the State Guildmaster, who had overheard my comment.

“Even paranoids have enemies,” Nick stated, coldly. I was about to ask Nick what he meant, but the two Black Knights met up with us at that point. They escorted us into the landing in silence. Unlike the tunnels, the landing was about twenty feet high, and was lit with an off white light coming from a huge overhead fixture. The limestone walls had been covered by concrete blocks. There were evenly spaced crevices in the walls, where I assumed the Knights placed their shooters in defensive maneuvers. At the far end of the landing, about forty feet from the end of the tunnel, was the opening to another tunnel. I could make out the first steps of the staircase inside the tunnel. We were greeted by another six Knights in body armor and assault rifles. My first reaction was to place my hand on the butt of my pistol, holstered on my thigh. Nick caught my hand and shook his head. The State Guildmaster, oblivious to the exchange between the two of us, walked over to the lycanthrope that was in charge of the Knights.

“These three are the hunters from Hillsborough. I am taking them to see the prince so he can talk to them about the situation there.” The head Knight looked us over. His eyes locked onto Nick, who returned the gaze with a steady cold glare. Questions about Nick’s shadowed past crossed my mind. The tense moment between them broke quickly and the head of the detail motioned for the pair of Knights that had brought us out of the tunnel to come over to him. He spoke quietly to them, then sharply turned about, and walked back to the rest of his detail. The two that had escorted us from the tunnel walked up to the State Guildmaster and introduced themselves.

“I’m Staff,” the one with the long metal pole began, “This is Bullie. We’re to escort you into the Manor. Do they know the rules for hunters here?”

“One of them does, but the other two have never been here before,” the State Guildmaster answered. Staff walked over to us. His pole was in the feigned relax pose of a master wielder. I had seen the same posture from several martial arts demonstrations I had watched.

“Okay, the basic simple rule is, don’t make yourself a threat. The Black Knights and the State Guild have an understanding to the fact that hunters need to have their weapons on them, and the Guild understands that we must protect the prince. No fast movements of the hands around standard weapon positions, namely the waist, small of the back, thighs, and under the arms. You’ll have a good deal of Knights pointing firearms loaded with silver rounds at you. Are you bringing any packages with you?”

“Nope, we left them in the car,” answered Hangman.

“Good. Hunters, if you would follow me,” Staff said, leading up to the tunnel at the back of the landing. The four of us, led in step by the Guildmaster, followed him into the tunnel. Bullie came up behind us, his sub- machine gun in a ready position. I took a quick glance back at him and saw the coldness in his eyes. There was no doubt in my mind that the Knight would hose the four of us with silver if he thought we were about to harm the prince or Staff. Probably in that order too. The tunnel was also unlit, relying on the ambient light of the landing and its users’ supernatural vision. It was similar to the landing in that the limestone was covered by concrete bricks. It went straight for about ten feet, then our group came across a staircase. It spanned the width of the tunnel, which arched up with the staircase. The stairs were made of the same smoothed limestone as the floor of the tunnels, and extended at least thirty feet up into the darkness. At the foot of the staircase, I couldn’t make out any of the details about what waited for us at the top. Staff quietly began walking up the staircase, his leather foot coverings making almost no sound on the cold limestone. The four of us, however, sounded like a pack of elephants in comparison. The construction of the steps was such that we couldn’t stop our claw from clicking on the limestone. In addition, the tunnel seemed to amplify the sounds, making them even louder. As we made our way up the staircase, I had a nasty feeling that this was a passive alarm system, since no lycanthrope, except the Back Knights who trained here, could make it through here without making enough noise to alert whoever was at the top and bottom.

I felt justified as the top of the staircase became visible. It was another open area, but it was not lit. Much smaller than the landing, it had several oak doors lining the walls. Another half-dozen Black Knights were there, waiting for us. Two were manning an old M2 Browning .50 caliber machine gun. The old “tank-killer” (which is what it was used for during World War One) was flanked by another pair of lycanthropes holding Colt M4 carbines with shotguns slung under the barrels. The other pair of Black Knights were armed with shotguns.

“Alpha Bravo seven four,” said one of the lycanthropes at the top.

“Delta Whiskey eight nine,” responded Staff, who was standing at the very top of the staircase, on the edge of the guarded area. I was about to continue up, but Staff briskly motioned for us to stay put.

“Omaha,” said another lycanthrope.

“Denver,” responded Bullie, surprising Hangman and I. Nick and the State Guildmaster were staying calm and waited for Staff to lead the group through the heavily armed Knights. Staff moved quietly across the floor to the door opposite of the staircase. He opened the door and motioned for the four of us to go in.

“Aren’t you coming the rest of the way?” asked the Guildmaster, apparently surprised by what I thought was a change in the normal protocol.

“No sir. Longblade and his team will be escorting you to the prince. They will meet you at the end of the hall.”

“Longblade? James Nightglow?” Nick asked, almost incredulously. I looked back at him. Something was not right with Nick. That alone made it my problem. However, I also had to factor in the fact that we were carrying sensitive information. Anyone Nick didn’t like or trust became a threat, mostly because I had faith in Nick’s judgment of other lycanthropes.

“Yes, why do you ask?” responded Staff.

“I didn’t think he was still alive. The last time I saw him he had suffered three gunshot wounds to the chest.” Staff looked at Nick peculiarly as our group entered the hall. He looked like he was about to say something, but decided against it. He shut the door behind us. As soon as the door clicked, a thick steel wall slid down, sealing us in the hall. The hall, unlike the tunnel and the landing, looked like it belonged in a Manor. The walls were the typical off-white color, and decorated with several hanging paintings. All but one of them were landscapes of various areas in Florida, such as Bok Tower in Lake Wales and Miami Beach. One was a painting of the King of the United States. Each prince was required to have at least one painting of the King displayed in their Manor. Where it was displayed was often an indicator to how the prince felt about the King. That was something an instructor told me during my training as one of those pieces of trivia that might or might not be useful later in our careers. The placing here was neutral as all of the important people would see it, but it was not in the most prominent place, namely the Manor itself. The door was oak, but I could smell the iron of the metal plate inside the door. Contrary to popular belief, metal does have a peculiar smell, although it is very hard to detect, and normally I can’t smell it unless I’m in true form and taking advantage of the enhancement to my senses. I also detected the smell of anxiety from Nick. This surprised the hell out of me, since as long as I’ve known Nick, he’s always been the cool one. As we walked across the thick red carpeting, I asked Nick who this “Longblade” was.

“Let’s just say my exit from Tallahassee was less than docile.” I looked at him, puzzled by his cryptic response. He didn’t say anything else as we got to the door. I looked over to Hangman, who had been silently observing everything for the past hour, and shot him a questioning look. He nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders and turned his attention to the State Guildmaster. The State Guildmaster knocked on the hall door. It opened to reveal a somewhat short lycanthrope wearing flowing black robes. Behind him, were a small team of four other lycanthropes, also in black robes, although their weapons were more visible than the firearm on the small lycanthrope. As we walked out of the hall into a large, well-appointed waiting room, the small lycanthrope looked each of us over with a cool appraising eye.

That coolness faded as soon as Nick came out of the hall. Anger flashed in the small lycanthrope’s eyes and a growl came into his throat. Nick responded with a similar evil growl, but didn’t move from where he stood. In a lightning blur of motion, the small lycanthrope threw himself at Nick. Nick absorbed the impact, falling down to lessen the blow, as we were taught. The little lycanthrope kneeled over Nick, who wasn’t fighting back, and snarled, waving his claws, almost as if he was looking for a place to strike. My hand shot under my robe and pulled out my USP, placing the barrel to the small lycanthrope’s head.

“Back off doggie,” I said, in a dangerously calm voice. His companions, who were stunned by their leader’s attack, were quickly covered by Hangman, who was wielding his Kimber. They took one look at him, and took a step back. The small lycanthrope had calmed fractionally as he felt my pistol press against his head. However, he still was kneeling next to a calm-looking Nick. When he refused to get off of Nick after I asked him nicely, I pulled the metal hammer back with my thumb to emphasize my command.

“STOP!” thundered a voice from behind me. I looked at the State Guildmaster, thinking that it might have been him. The State Guildmaster, however, was standing rigid. Hangman had his pistol lowered, and I could see him flipping up the safety. I decocked my pistol, and turned to face the speaker. He stood in impressive black robes with silver runes printed down the hems. He wasn’t much taller than me, but his presence made him seem another two feet taller. His eyes were pure obsidian, containing both coolness and fire within them. His dark brown pelt was streaked with silver puffs, but he moved across the room towards us with a grace and boldness that belied any show of age. He was Jan Kraven, Jan Talis Silverflash, the Prince of Florida, may the Ancestors long bless his reign.

“You are my guardian, Longblade. You are not my attack dog. We have need of that particular lycanthrope’s services that comes before any personal vendetta. DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?” he boomed, his deep voice echoing slightly off the room’s walls. Longblade took the reprimand stoically, never changing his now emotionless face. The rest of his detail looked about ready to collapse from fear. I could almost feel the tendrils of fear swirling about. The prince looked down at Nicky, who was still on the floor. Nick’s face remained emotionless as the prince studied him, but I could see something I had never seen before in Nick’s eyes. It looked a lot like fear.

“Nicholas, I’m glad that you have returned,” the prince said with a surprisingly warm tone, “You’ve brought allies?” The prince looked at Hangman, again studying him as he studied Nick. Hangman looked like he was about to take a step back, but he held his ground. Then he looked at me. The prince’s eyes went wide. He stepped back a moment and looked at me in wide-eyed wonder. “Ravage, my word, is that you?”

“Pardon, your highness?” I asked. I had never heard of a lycanthrope that went by Ravage, much less anyone whom I resembled. Maybe I had a double up in Tallahassee, but I would have to deal with that. The Prince shook his head with a hint of, nostalgia?

“I’m sorry, but you look like an old friend of mine,” the Prince explained, “You’re much too young to be him, but the resemblance is very strong. Ancestors, it’s frightening. What’s your name lycanthrope?”

“Marcus Phoenix Badmoon, hunter of the Hillsborough Guild,” I answered in a confident voice, which was more than I was feeling. There were so many questions and sub-plots running around Tallahassee that I was almost feeling dizzy trying to keep track of them.

“Badmoon? A Badmoon here? Well that’s odd.” With that, the prince seemingly dismissed me from his mind. This worried me, because the prince was acting totally beyond any of the extremes that I have always encountered when I gave my name to another lycanthrope. Usually, I get either extreme hostility or, far more rarely, those who are obviously looking past the ancient stigma in order to see me. Complete dismissal was something new entirely. He motioned for us to follow him back to the Manor. “So tell me Scott, why have you brought these hunters to me? I’m glad to see Nicholas, but we already know of the fall of Hillsborough. What are they going to add to what we know?”

The State Guildmaster stepped up next to the prince, under the watchful eye of the Black Knights. “Your highness, these three have brought me additional evidence –“

“The Great Overthrow conspiracy again?” the prince interrupted, a weariness in his voice conveying his annoyance at the State Guildmaster for bringing it up. My regard for the prince dropped a couple of notches. First, the Prince’s comment about my home pissed me off. The fall of a county wasn’t supposed to be spoken of in such a casual manner. Secondly, the Prince was completely disregarding a very probable threat to his throne. At least the Lords Vollen, all three of them that I served, listened to the hunters when they said that they had important information. Why wasn’t the prince listening to his best source of information, the State Hunters Guild?

We entered the State Manor without another word being spoken. Unlike the grandeur of the Hillsborough Manor, the State Manor had an elegant Spartan look to it. The walls were an off-white plaster, trimmed in wood and gold-leaf. The floor was white marble, with great black swirls in it. The doors we entered through were richly polished oak. The far end of the room rose up with a single chair on it. The chair was built to fit the prince, with a high back. It was adorned only with two emeralds on the arms and purple satin cushions on the seat and back. It looked like a traditional human throne, and it made me slightly ill. Why would the Prince ape human traditions? We had our own, and I was damned proud of them.

The prince took his throne, and looked out at us. Longblade and another of his Black Knights stood beside him on the platform. From concealed doors on either side of

the platform, ten Black Knights filed into the room, taking evenly spaced positions along the walls.

“Bring in Christopher and that bastard dog from Nebraska,” the prince thundered. The two Black Knights that had took up positions at the oaken double door rushed outside. I looked over at Nick, who seemed very anxious, all of the sudden.

“What’s going on?” I whispered to him.

“SILENCE,” boomed the prince, “We will wait for the others before the talking begins. Do you understand that?”

I whirled angrily on the prince. I could feel the prince’s powers hammering down on me, but I was pissed. I felt something surrounding me. Out of the corner of my eyes, I could see my friends shuttering with terror. It was very similar to what happened when Stephen Vollen had tried using his powers on me. I knew that a power was being lashed at me, but I didn’t feel the terror’s touch. I could see the confusion in the Prince’s eyes as he saw I wasn’t quivering in fear. I felt the powers quickly dissipate, but I remained silent. I could hear my Guildmaster’s voice in my head. If the Prince was willing to use his powers on me, then it was probably a good idea not to anger him further.

I stood quietly, waiting for the other lycanthropes that were supposed to be joining us. Hangman just stood rigidly, trying to shake off the after effects of the Prince’s psychic lashing. Nick’s eyes bored into me with almost horror. He knew that the Prince’s psychic display had no effect on me, and he couldn’t understand why.

What? I hand-signed to him, the sharp movement of my hands punctuating my frustration.

What was that? Nick asked with his hands. At least, that was my interpretation. Nick actually signed What is it? Hunter hand signs were supposed to quietly ask questions and give directions. It was a more complex version of the tactical hand signs used by military and police forces around the world. It wasn’t designed to hold a prolonged conversation.

Don’t know, I answered, Talk about it later. Nick looked a little calmer, but he still looked uneasy about what he had seen. I didn’t blame him, but it was disturbing to see that uneasy look on his face. Nick was always one of those who always looked at me like I was just another lycanthrope, instead of a Badmaoon.

After about fifteen minutes, which felt like an hour, the two Black Knights reentered the room, followed by another pair of lycanthropes. Both were standing in true form, with the traditional black robes draping off of them. The taller one, about Hangman’s height, was walking in an arrogant stride, not even bothering to look at the rest of us. Conversely, the shorter one, studied each of us before kneeling to the prince at the platform. The prince handled the introductions.

“He,” the prince said, pointing to the tall one, “is called Bradford. He is the son of one of the lords in Nebraska and has been sent here by the prince of Nebraska.” Nick stiffened. The prince pointed to the other one. “This is Chris Blackhawk, an important advisor, among other things.” Bradford now felt dignified to look at us. He kept his face impassive until he saw Nick.

“Well, it looks like my job is finally done,” Bradford said with a slimy smugness, “How are you, Nicholas? The prince is very interested in having you back in good shape, as is his daughter.” Nick took one step back from the tall lycanthrope, and that set me off. I was sick and tired of all these little games, and I wasn’t about to let this asshole talk to my best friend, who listened to me cry for Elizabeth’s safety on the way up here and would keep that secret from anyone who asked, like he was some prize. All of my pent-up rage and anger was released in one moment. With a quick leap, I was on top of the bastard, pinning him down to the steps of the platform with. One hand was wrapped around his throat. I was deciding what piece to slash when I felt like I had been hit with a live electrical wire. My heart jumped as the powerful shock threw me off of Bradford. I looked up at the prince, and saw another lycanthrope standing with him. This one was dressed in the black robes and he stood with an almost regal bearing. I didn’t know where the new lycanthrope came from, but I didn’t have time to contemplate that bit. Something physical hit me and threw me back a good ten feet. Whatever force protected me from magicks before wasn’t working at the moment. I really needed to figure out what had been happening to me. The Prince loomed over us.

“This is Marshall Yven, the Spiritmaster for Florida. I will not tolerate any more foolishness in my Manor,” the prince said, calmly but with the implied threat. At the mention of his name, I wondered if he was related to John Yven, the deputy Spiritmaster from my county that was now dead.

“What more can you expect from brutes?” asked the Spiritmaster, looking down at us. He sounded a lot like the Yven I knew, including the condescending way he talked to us. I was tempted to draw a gun on him and remind him that I could still hurt him even with his mastery of the magicks, but my body was still hurting from the lightning bolt – since magick caused archanal wounds – and Nick was making sure I didn’t try to fight anymore by standing over me. Bradford stood up shakily, looking over at me. I could see the fear in his eyes, although he tried to look angry. Blackhawk looked like he was about to explode into laughter. I wondered exactly who Blackhawk was and what his connection was to the prince. He acted like he was a close friend or advisor to the prince, but he didn’t look like the normal advisor that I had seen in the Hillsborough court.

“Nicholas Starson Hellfire,” the prince began, “You had been granted asylum in Florida from the prince of Nebraska. However, after careful reconsideration of your case, that asylum has been revoked. You are hereby required to return to your home state and obey the dictates of your prince. Bradford has been empowered as a marshal by your prince, and he is to escort you to Nebraska. Do you follow these dictates, or will you resist?” Longblade grinned with anticipation as the ultimatum was thrown down.

Nick stood towards the prince. “I will go with Bradford willingly, but first I must ask your highness to listen to my partners and I about the threat that awaits you.” The prince nodded, although he looked bored about the whole deal. “Several months ago, the Lord Stephen Vollen of Hillsborough was assassinated. The shot that was made could have only been made by a hunter for two reasons. The position that he fired from was awkward and difficult to hit from. Anyone but a skilled hunter could not have made that shot. Furthermore, the assassin used Silver Shok ammunition, an ammunition that is used almost exclusively by the Guild. The conclusion from this is that another lord had Vollen killed.

“The why is simple, Vollen’s death put his son on the throne of Hillsborough County. Moreover, it secured that whoever was behind it would not have to deal with the elder Vollen during the war council. We found documents on a computer disk to that effect. Your highness, there is a group of lords that fomented the fall of Hillsborough, and we believe are hoping to use the war council to force you off your throne.”

“I thank you for your testimony, Nicholas Hellfire,” the prince responded with a tired tone that conveyed a slight sarcasm, “But I’m quite sure that you’re mistaken. You will leave my state as soon as reasonable possible.”

“May I ask an indulgence to speak with my friends?” Nick ventured, “If I don’t they may act irrationally. They don’t understand what is going on.” The prince nodded, looking directly at me. Okay, I hadn’t exactly acquitted myself well. Nick gathered the two of around him.

“I know what the two of you are going to ask,” Nick said, “I had some trouble with the prince back home, and a friend of mine here offered to get me out. After his death in Broward, the Black Knights here wanted to send me back home, to protect the prince from any wrath of the Nebraska prince. What resulted was my coming to Tampa after a bad escape. That’s all you need to know right now.

“Right now, you two are going to need to protect each other. You can trust the Guildmaster, to a point. Everyone else is questionable. Ranger, I don’t know what happened earlier, but you better find out soon. And don’t give up on her.

“Hangman, find a way back to Tampa. The Guildmaster was right. You will be the new Guildmaster. Learn what you can up here, but get back quickly. I don’t know why the prince shrugged off the plot against him. Something vile is going on here. Be careful.” Nick walked over to Bradford, and the two of them walked out the double doors. Hangman and I stood next to each other without saying a word. The State Guildmaster walked up to the two of us, a sad look on his face.

“I didn’t want that to happen,” the Guildmaster said, as we turned to look at him, “Unfortunately, the prince is going to need all the external support he can get, and that includes the princedom of Nebraska. I know that doesn’t make you any less angry about this, but there’s nothing you can do. At any rate, the two of you will work for me, now.”

“I don’t think so,” said Blackhawk, who had silently walked up next to us, “The young one you can take, but I’m afraid the prince said Ranger could work for me.” The State Guildmaster’s face darkened and looked about ready to attack Blackhawk.

“Who the fuck are you?” I asked, pissed off that the two of them were treating me like a piece of equipment instead of a hunter more than capable of making his own decisions.

“Take a walk with me Ranger,” Blackhawk said in response, “I will explain a lot of things. I will also tell you why it’s important that you work for me.” Something about Blackhawk’s response intrigued me. I knew that it was a hook, but there was something about this lycanthrope that I needed to figure out. It was something that the back of my mind told me was important, and I hadn’t survived as long as I had by ignoring my instincts.

Blackhawk led me through the halls of the Manor to a large open courtyard. Having lost my sense of direction because of the twisting route, I wasn’t sure if we were still inside the Manor, or on the outside. The courtyard was about 250 square feet, fenced in by ten foot tall hedges. I was sure that there were redundant security devices in the hedge, but I didn’t want to ask Blackhawk anything, yet. Blackhawk projected an air of secrecy, like a seasoned spy. He knew things that I didn’t, and he knew that I wanted them. That, for some reason, gave him confidence. I didn’t know whether that made me want to laugh or be worried.

Blackhawk, himself, was not intimidating. We had shed our true forms for human form somewhere along the way to the courtyard. I suspected that we did that to protect him. Even in his lycanthrope form, he wasn’t big or particularly strong-looking. Even if he knew some form of martial arts, I was bigger enough to dominate the fight. In human form, his dark brown hair topped an unimpressive face. It wasn’t handsome or ugly, just average. Blackhawk could be anyone in a crowd. What disturbed me most about him were his eyes. I always looked into the eyes. It often told me what the owners were feeling or if they were hiding something. Blackhawk’s eyes were empty, completely vacant of any emotion. Only a faint spark of life told me that they were not dead.

“To answer your earlier question, I am Christopher Blackhawk, or Chris Major to the human world. I head the Society of the Claw and the Fang in Florida. We are made up of hunters, shaman, warriors, and kin. Our job is to act in the name of the King of the United States and to preserve the United States as a kingdom at all costs. We also act as informal advisors and spies for the princes of the states.” Blackhawk leaned on the wall to the Manor and pulled out a cigar. He lit up from a lighter that he produced from under his robes and then looked at me again.

“Why do you want me?” I retorted, “I’m just a hunter from one of the counties. I’m not even very good at the subtle stuff,” He just puffed on his cigar for a good thirty seconds before answering.

“You are not ‘just a hunter,’ Ranger,” Blackhawk answered, “I’ve seen the file that the State Guild has on you. According to them, you are one of the best hunters in Florida. In addition to being well-versed in the various weapons you’ve employed, the file notes that you’re a quick thinker and adjust easily to changing situations. As for the subtle stuff, the Society has plenty of quiet operators – spies, if you will – but the Florida Society is lacking in lycanthropes who can do wetwork easily and efficiently. Your record in Hillsborough is proof enough of that. Did you or did you not take down three vampires because you smelled them out?” He was referring to the incident at the camp when I was guarding the pups. I nodded slowly.

“I also know that you probably want to know what is in this deal for you. I can guarantee a certain amount of freedom in the execution of your duties, in addition to providing full material support. You will have to have a partner, but I can also guarantee that she will meet the stringent rules that we have for abilities and physical fitness.”

“She?” I asked, incredulously. We had no female lycanthropes in the Hillsborough chapter of the Guild, and the number of female hunters is very low anyhow. The reasons are simple. Females aren’t as physically built for hunting as males are, and they usually can’t handle the intense harassment of the training. This doesn’t mean that female hunters are any less capable than male hunters, quite the contrary. Once they get through the training, female hunters are some of the most devious and cold-hearted hunters in the Guild. It is just that as a whole, females are more likely to fail the training then males.

“Yes, she.” Blackhawk replied, slightly annoyed, “Put that look away. The partner I have in mind is a kin that has more or less, grown up in black operations. She is a master at compiling and analyzing vast amounts of intelligence. She has been very useful to the Society in the past, coming up with refined information that none of the others had seen in the original data. The problem is, she’s being wasted here in Tallahassee. By the time she has gotten us the polished data, the tactical situation has changed. It’s not her fault, but rather the fact that our field operatives are better at gathering information than analyzing and acting on it. This is where you come in.”

“Let me guess. I’m supposed to protect her as we gather up the data that you want. In addition, I’m supposed to be the one that acts on any of the truly time-sensitive things we find. This doesn’t sound very appealing. Who’s going to cover me during all of this?”

“We have contacts in most of the Guild chapters in Florida, but don’t you have your own network of allies?” he asked, almost in a mocking tone. I leveled a glare at him and crossed my arms, waiting for him to restart the conversation. If he wanted me that badly, he could make the next move.

“At any rate,” he began after another fifteen seconds of silence, “My offer is firm. Furthermore, where will you better serve in the coming war with the leeches, in the State Guild preparing for missions, or in the Society, actually doing them?” That last line bit into me. I never was one to miss out on action. However, there were a few nagging doubts, and a specific job in mind that I still needed to do.

“I’ll meet the kin first, then I’ll give you my decision.” I could see the triumph in his eyes. He was sure that he had me, and I wasn’t sure that he was wrong.

“That is a perfectly acceptable answer Ranger,” he said, maintaining a level voice, “What say we meet at a coffee house I know in town? It’s called the Java Spear. The Guildmaster will know where it is.” With that, he left the courtyard, leaving me alone to think. A great deal had occurred in the past few hours. I saw my best friend hauled off to Nebraska, of all places, and a strange lycanthrope offer me a position doing what I was good at. There was something else that I had not really resolved. I still didn’t know if Elizabeth was dead or alive. We didn’t have a lot of time together, and none of it in private, excluding the meeting in the prison cell. Amongst all the problems of the aristocracy, my personal life had fallen by the wayside, again. Now, however, there was actually something in my personal life that needed my attention. I wished that Nick was there in the courtyard for me to bounce off ideas, but he was gone, and I was to tread on unfamiliar ground by myself.

I must have sat there for at least a couple of hours, because Hangman joined me, apparently looking for me. He sat down beside me silently and stared at the vegetation. I didn’t think he knew I was aware he was there. Finally he took an audible breath after sitting for a good minute and a half.

“I’ve known that you were there for a while now Hangman, so you can come out and say what you were going to say.” He looked directly at me, as I turned to face him. I could tell he was in pain.

“You’re going to go with that Blackhawk, aren’t you?” he asked, though it sounded more as a statement than a question.

“Yes,” I answered, finally truly answering the question for myself.

“Well that’s just fucking great. First Nick is shipped off to Nebraska and now you’re leaving the Guild to go play with that fucking dog. Just what in the hell am I supposed to do?” I took a long look at Hangman. His features, even obscured by fur, were strained. I had actually forgotten how truly young he was compared to Nick and me. We were his mentors, much as the Guildmaster had been mine. We had protected him. We had continued his training. Now, we were disappearing from his life.

“Hangman, over the short time I’ve known you,” I began, “You’ve proved yourself countless times as an effective and even a superb hunter. What you are going to do is take your ass back to the State Guild and teach those arrogant bastards exactly what a county hunter can do. I know you can beat them, because Nick and I taught you how. As for me, I need the freedom of action that Chris offered me. I need the chance to go back to Hillsborough.”

“To go look for the Lady-Apparent?” Hangman asked, reading my mind. I nodded my head. “You love her, don’t you?”

“Yeah, and it’s only taken me the last five hours to figure that out. You know, I always thought that love was a damn stupid thing for a hunter to feel, considering what we do. Now, I’m not so sure.”

“Nick was right. This is the first time for you isn’t it?” Hangman asked. Anger flashed through me as the thought of Nick betraying a confidence of mine to Hangman. It subsided as I realized that Hangman probably had been extremely worried about me during some of my depressive bouts on the ride up. I guess I would’ve done the same thing.

“Yeah,” I answered, nodding my head, “I was taken to the training grounds right after Initiation. My first teacher was a crusty old bastard who loved to drill his students into the ground, either by training or his fists, but he taught us how to think unconventionally and win by doing so. After training, I came back to Hillsborough. After a couple of embarrassing situations with a couple of the older hunters of the Guild, I made a decision to become the best there was.”

“And you did, neglecting everything else, huh?” I nodded at Hangman’s question. “I know how you feel, sort of. I met a girl during tysach but she told me after Initiation that she wouldn’t become involved with a hunter. So, I left her and became a hunter. Sometimes I wonder if I made the right choice.”

“You did. You have the knack for this job, and you handle yourself well.” I got up, dusting off the robes as I stood. Hangman did the same. “Now, how do we get out of here?”

“We can just walk around the Manor until a Black Knight shows up and escorts us back to the tunnel.” Hangman shed his true form for human.

“Sounds like a plan to me. Especially if it involves annoying the Knights.”

I awoke the next morning surrounded by unfamiliar settings. It took me a moment to remember that I was back in the State Guild. As I sat up in the dimness of the room, I vaguely remembered the roundabout route through the Manor that Hangman and I had taken. We actually had been finally escorted to the tunnel by a pair of unsmiling Knights after we made a slight mess in the kitchen. I looked over to the other bunk in the room to see if Hangman was still there. He was still sleeping soundly after a long night of training. Hangman told the State Guildmaster that he was going to stay with the State Guild. So, the Guildmaster had taken Hangman to the training officer and the two of the sparred together for most of the night. I was barely awake when a very exhausted Hangman swayed into the room and collapsed on his bunk. Satisfied that he was mostly comfortable and still alive, I stood up and walked over to the chest of drawers that I placed some of my things the night previously.

I put on a pair of jeans with a simple white t-shirt. My well-worn work boots slipped on my feet and my USP slid into its small-of-the-back holster. I made myself look somewhat presentable and walked out into the hall. Much to my relief, a small map of the State Guild was taped to the door. I memorized the directions to the Guildmaster’s office and left the map for Hangman.

As I navigated through the mass of corridors and staircases, I went over what I was going to talk to the Guildmaster. He struck me as a reliable lycanthrope. Right now, reliable information was what I needed. I had never heard of the Society of the Claw and the Fang until this Blackhawk wolf told me about them, and I was still suspect about what sketchy details that I was given.

I walked right into the Guildmaster’s office like I would have done with my Guildmaster. It may have been arrogant on my part, but I really didn’t care. So much emotional pain ran through me. In less than a week, I lost just about everything and everyone that I actually cared about. At that moment, I needed to know if the Society would be able to help me, or if I needed to go back to Hillsborough on my own.

The State Guildmaster was sitting behind his desk, pouring over a pair of documents. I quietly sat down in one of the chairs in front of his desk and waited while he continued to read. I knew he was ignoring me, so I was just going to wait him out. It was a technique I had perfected with the my Guildmaster. Finally, after about ten minutes, he looked up at me.

“Oh, it’s you,” he said, slightly surprised, “I thought you were my nephew. I was wondering why he was waiting so patiently. Usually he begins to become annoying after about five minutes. Okay, Ranger, what do you want to know about the Society?”

“So they are a real organization?” I asked, not exactly surprised that he knew why I was there. Idiots do not become Guildmasters. They usually just join the Order of Spirits.

“Yes, but I don’t know to whom they report to. They say the King of the United States, but I doubt that.”

“Then who do you think they report to?”

“I think they used to report to the King, but now they follow their own agenda. They’ve got contacts and operatives throughout the United States. You can always find their leaders near the princes. I don’t want to sound paranoid, but from what I’ve seen of them, they act much like the power behind the throne of the kingdom.”

“What exactly do they do?” I asked the Guildmaster.

“In Florida, they gather information for the prince as well as conduct limited jobs,” the State Guildmaster answered with a very annoyed look on his face, “I’ll be frank and tell you that I don’t like them. The Society does many of the same things that the Guild is supposed to do, but the Prince likes Blackhawk, and values the intelligence the Society presents. The Society has more diverse resources than the Guild, but they are geared more to intelligence gathering, but they’ve been doing more jobs, especially in the disputed territories and against lords suspected of disloyalty. I figured that was what Blackhawk wanted you to bolster his operational agents.”

I nodded to that comment, and then leaned back into the chair. I pondered what I the Guildmaster had just told me. It wasn’t making me feel any better about my prospective employer, especially the part about investigating and operating against lords. It made a certain amount of sense from the Prince’s standpoint, but the nebulous nature of the Society didn’t sit well with me. I also still didn’t that I never heard of the Society, and it was something that someone in the top tier of a county chapter should have heard about. I wasn’t sure if it was something that the Guildmaster knew about and didn’t or couldn’t talk to me about, or if the Society had hidden itself from him as well. Either was possible, and it was setting all sorts of alarms in my head.

“Blackhawk wants me to play the enforcer to one of his analysts,” I told the State Guildmaster, “I don’t know if I trust him, but he offered me a free range of action for the data that the analyst and I come up with. Do you know anything about a kin analyst genius of theirs?” The State Guildmaster shook his head.

“Their personnel records are well guarded. I don’t know who half of them are, and the few I do know are former State hunters who left the Guild to go work with them. What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to meet my prospective partner at this ‘Java Spear’ place in town. Then I’ll decide.” I paused for a moment before continuing. “Either way I decide, I won’t be joining the State Guild.”

“What?” the State Guildmaster asked, shocked by my statement. He had a right to be. Very few hunters refused the opportunity to join the State Guild, and for good reason. For all the mocking that county hunters leveled at the state hunters, we understood that the state hunters were the best, and we wanted to be part of that team. A few months ago, I would have jumped at the chance to be part of the State Guild. Now, though, things were vastly different.

There was more to it for myself. Lycanthrope society is based on belonging to a pack that belongs to a bigger pack and so on up to the Great Pack. It was the same for hunters. We belonged to the county chapter as our main pack, but for Hangman and myself, our main pack was destroyed. Without a Guildmaster, or even a county lord (Ancestors, I hope she is still alive), Hangman and I technically belonged to the State Guildmaster. My telling the State Guildmaster that I would not join the State Guild was a direct challenge to his authority. I knew that I needed to walk carefully.

“If I don’t join the Society, I will be going back to Hillsborough,” I answered, trying to keep an emotionless mask on my face, “I have to go back.” The State Guildmaster’s face flashed with anger, but quickly regained its controlled composure.

“I know that you had a very, liberal, relationship with your Guildmaster,” the State Guildmaster said in tightly controlled tones, “I hope that you are not expecting me to honor that same relationship? If so, I will quickly disabuse you of that. Unless the Society grabs you, you are my hunter. I do not allow my hunters to dictate their orders to me.”

“Sir, you’ve been very open with Hangman and me, so I’ll try and do the same for you,” I said, leaning forward, “I’m hoping that you’ll be giving me permission to go back in, but there’s something else at stake here.”

“Who is so important to you that you would walk into a suicide mission?” he asked in reply. His question caught me off-guard, and he chuckled at my momentary surprise. “I’ve been the State Guildmaster for a while. Most of the time a county hunter refuses an invitation is because of a mate or family. You have no family except for the Guild, and the pained look on your face means that your mate is still behind in Hillsborough. We have no information about your personal life, so it must be a new development.”

“The Lady-Apparent,” I mumbled. It still sounded preposterous to me, so I could imagine how outrageous it sounded to someone who hadn’t been there. The State Guildmaster’s eyes bulged with shock, and then he threw his head back and laughed. Sudden anger consumed me and I had to restrain the impulse to attack the State Guildmaster. The impulse startled me. I occasionally threatened to thrash some of the higher ranking lycanthropes, but it never went beyond the verbal. This was a visceral reaction that sliced through my honed controls, and it scared me a bit. Did I have no control over these no emotions and what they wanted me to do? My reactions did not go unnoticed by the State Guildmaster.

“I’m sorry Marcus,” the State Guildmaster said, “That was rude of me. It was just so reminiscent of bad drama – and you have to live with it.” He sat quiet for a moment, as if collecting his thoughts. “I know you. I’ve seen you many times in the State Guild. Hunters so dedicated to the profession that anything outside the Guild catches them off-guard. You aren’t thinking like the professional I need. Is that a fair summary?”

“Yes,” I said, thoroughly embarrassed by the State Guildmaster’s skewering assessment. “My professionalism is ashamed, but the rest of me doesn’t give a damn. I’m sorry if that doesn’t make sense.”

“Makes plenty of sense,” the State Guildmaster answered, “I even remember a certain state hunter that gave up everything to marry a chapter hunter – even though everyone else damn near commanded her not to. Amber was a good friend, and a damned good hunter.” The revelation that the State Guildmaster knew Mrs. Werstand caught me off-guard. Damn, that was happening a lot lately.

“I sent in a hit pack in to reconnoiter Hillsborough,” the State Guildmaster said, “Their initial report came in just before you walked in this morning.” He looked like he was bracing himself. “The hit pack found no lycanthropes, but more vampires and ghouls than any other county – including the disputed territories. You and Samuel may have been the only survivors. If you want to go down there, I owe it to Amber and you to let you. Ancestors knows that you would probably have a better chance than any of my wolves, but you have to know that you will probably be walking in to a death trap.”

“I kind of figured that out on my own,” I replied, my normal sarcasm suddenly reappearing, “I know I’m not thinking clearly. That’s one of the few reasons I’m thinking hard about joining the Society.”

“I think this is the first time I actually want someone to work for Blackhawk,” the State Guildmaster said, “Let me know when you’re ready. I’ll drive you.”

]]> http://www.derek-ward.com/2008/09/chapter-14/feed/ 0 http://www.derek-ward.com/2008/08/chapter-13/ http://www.derek-ward.com/2008/08/chapter-13/#comments Tue, 19 Aug 2008 13:26:58 +0000 derek http://www.derek-ward.com/?p=51

Chapter 13

Things Keep Sliding Downward

The ride under the stars was refreshing. Hell, getting out of the Manor was refreshing. It wasn’t the carnage that bothered me. It was trying to get a grasp of something completely new to me. The more I looked back on the few interactions between Elizabeth – I couldn’t believe how natural it was to call her by her packname instead of the Lady-Apparent – the more I saw, or hoped to see, the early flickers of infatuation between the two of us. At the same time, my mind was also busily slapping down those lofty aspirations with reality. Completely out of character, I reached out to another lycanthrope in need and probably got what was a normal response that I was blowing completely out of proportion. To make matters worse, the two lycanthropes I normally went to for these sort of things weren’t available. The Guildmaster was far too busy helping Elizabeth – the Lady-Apparent, dammit – gather the packs and restore some order to the chaos that the witch-hunters’ attacked wreaked upon our society. Nick, on the other hand, was being far too amused by my blubbering to do anything but give me an almost malicious smile. So, when Sneller asked us to check on the Guildmaster’s wife, I jumped at the job. Almost literally.

I surrendered the M4 I had been using for the Guildmaster’s Benelli. The Guildmaster just nodded when I told him what I was doing, and dismissed me without a thought. Elizabeth gave me a quick look before I left, but I couldn’t decipher it. I just let my mind go into job-mode. Nick tagged along, but he was being cagey about his reasons. It was a lone wolf job, and I really didn’t need another, but I wasn’t about to tell Nick he couldn’t come. Besides, I would probably need him to vouch for me if we ran into any straggling lycanthropes. Calling for rhaizen was rare enough that it made me a semi-celebrity, such as there were in amongst the lycanthropes, that I would need someone else to verify that I wasn’t rogue. Fortunately, there weren’t any incidents as we traveled up the interstate to the relatively prosperous part known as New Tampa. The Guildmaster’s wife, Jessica Werstand, ran a very successful security business in the Tampa Bay area, and about two years ago, the two purchased their dream home. Well, it was Jessica’s dream house. The Guildmaster grumbled about the extravagance of it. He was always more like me when it came to such things – just enough to make it comfortable and useful without any of the flourishes just to make it pretty.

The house was one of the new-style small mansions that had cropped up during the late nineties. The exterior was designed to resemble a Spanish villa, complete with that odd orangy-beige color stucco walls and curved red clay tile roof. The doorways were recessed behind grand arches. The landscaping was pure Floridian with a wide lawn dotted with palm trees and low flowering plants. A brick driveway curled out to the road, where the house hid behind a tall masonry wall. As Nick and I drove up to the wrought-iron gate the protected the driveway, I knew something was wrong. The problem was that the property was too dark. Jessica Werstand was a former hunter and was now a security specialist for the humans. As such, she had seen to the security precautions herself, including a well lit perimeter. Especially while there was a war going on with the vampires.

I scanned the driveway and picked out a Tampa Police squad car. I looked over at Nicky. He nodded to my unasked question. I pulled the shotgun out of its scabbard and worked the action, feeling marginally better at the sound of the double-ought silver buck shell chambering. Nicky still had the M4 from the night’s earlier battles and was holding it at the police car. I shed my human form, feeling the jumpsuit I was wearing rip and tear as my frame rapidly grew and expanded. I crept towards the police car, cradling the shotgun in my arms. As I neared the car, I could smell blood and fresh death. Contrary to popular belief, there is a smell to death, some of it from release of the bowels and bladder, some of it from the last breath releasing phonemes that signal death. I had smelled it many times before, several because I was the cause. As I came up to the driver’s door, I noticed that the four bullet holes through the windshield. I peered in to see the deputy. His face was frozen in death, contorted by pain and shock. Of the four bullets, one hit him in the throat, killing instantly. Another took him in the chest, and the other two destroyed the laptop mounted next to the officer. Aimed shooting, but not very good. I whistled for Nick to come up. As Nick slid up to the car, I reached in and checked the officer’s wallet. As I suspected, the officer had been kin. Sneller or Deadeye probably sent the kin over to secure the house until Nick and I showed up to collect Mrs. Werstand. The good part was that the kin was off-duty, so we weren’t dealing with a bunch of human police screaming down on the area while Nick and I were dealing with whatever had killed the kin. Tomorrow would change that, but we couldn’t deal with that now.

“Should we go in the front door, or try to find another way in?” I whispered to Nick as he looked into the car at the dead kin. Nick scanned the yard and surrounding area before he answered.

“Front door,” he answered softly, “I doubt that the attackers are still in there, and if they are, I doubt that they will be expecting hunters.” I nodded with his assessment. If the attackers were still in the house, they would have attacked Nick and me as we made our way up the driveway. Plus, all of the lycanthropes were supposed to be at the Manor, including all of the surviving members of the Hunters Guild. I made my way up the last fifty feet, skirting the lawn the entire way. I pulled to the right of the door, while Nicky crept up to the left. I checked it quickly. No signs of a forced opening. I twisted the knob. The door was unlocked. That was definitely out of pattern for Mrs. Werstand. She was more paranoid about securing the house than the Guildmaster could ever hope to be. I opened the door carefully, pushing gently enough for it to move under its own inertia. Nicky swept the entrance with his carbine and moved in. I followed, doing an opposite sweep with the shotgun and checking behind the door for any surprises.

The interior of the house was black. There was absolutely no light. I could barely pick out objects with my supernatural sight, and even then I only barely recognized the furniture and fixtures from memory. We carefully swept each room for any sign of the assailants. We had to assume the worst because there was no good reason for the house to be that dark. After we had swept all the rooms on the first floor, we crept up the stairs, with my shotgun leading the way.

The second floor wasn’t any brighter than the first, and even more silent. This disturbed me because this was the floor that the Guildmaster and his wife had their home offices on, and they always kept their computers running. I couldn’t hear any of the normal quiet sounds that I should have heard, such as the cooling fans of the computers or the slight buzz of monitors turned on. Nick and I swept the office, only to find it torn apart and most of the equipment destroyed. I didn’t waste time to check the files, but moved towards the staircase as fast as I could. My heart was in my throat, and the adrenaline was rushing through my system, far more potent than that of the humans.

The first two rooms on the third floor were guest rooms. A quick sweep of them showed that nothing had been disturbed. We moved down the hall, quickly checking the communal bath and came to the door of the large bedroom suite. Again, I opened the door and Nick did his sweep. I did the opposite sweep. What we found was startling.

It looked like the Guildmaster’s wife was sitting in true form, looking out her large picture window down onto the front of the house. The smells of death and blood immediately told me that the scene was staged, with the body of Jessica Werstand as the centerpiece of the display. It took me a moment to push back my rage as Nick and I stepped into the room. As we looked down on her body, we saw that she had been shot several times. I covered my eyes and flipped on the light switch. I heard Nicky gasp as the incandescent light flooded the room. I rushed over to him and saw what he was staring at. The word “Bleeders” had been carved into her stomach.

I pushed away the anger that arose in me, albeit with great difficulty. Nick looked like he’d already waged his small battle and his reason was returning to him. How had the Bleeders managed to get into the house? I didn’t know, but I did know that the Guildmaster would want answers. “Nick, let’s have a look around and see if we can figure out what happened.”

“I think that it is pretty obvious what happened,” Nick answered with a trace of annoyance that sounded very strange coming from him. “The Bleeders took advantage of us being distracted and tried to hit the Guildmaster like you did Bradon.” A familiar pang of what almost could be called guilt ran through me. What Nick said did make a certain amount of sense, but there was something that I felt we were missing.

“Nick, I’m with you on what the Bleeders were doing here,” I replied, trying to keep any annoyance out of my voice, “What I don’t understand was how a group of Bleeders managed to infiltrate the house and take out Mrs. Werstand – who used to be with the State Guild – and not have any casualties of their own. Did you smell any black blood while we were securing the house? I didn’t.”

“Neither did I,” Nick said with an ominous look in his eyes. He could see where I was leading, and he didn’t like it one bit.

“I think we’ve got a new leader for the Bleeders,” I said, “And he’s fucking scary. Anything we find here might help us when we really start back and deal with him.” Nick nodded in silent agreement. Since we were in the bedroom, Nick and I decided to start there. The bedroom didn’t look disturbed with the exception of the body and the shattered glass of the picture window. From the angles, the Bleeders had shot up the police car from the picture window before departing. Nick stopped suddenly by the side of the bed and picked up a small metallic object off the floor. It was a bullet casing. “This is bad Ranger.”

“Huh?” I asked as he handed me the casing. It was a Silver Shok. “Our rogue hunter?” If that was the case, then the whole situation had been stood on its ear.

“No, I don’t think so. I think it was really the Bleeders. Strange that they signed their work though.” I noticed the detachment in his voice. Nick was very good at removing his feelings from his work and examining the situation clearly.

“Then where did they get the Silver Shoks?” I asked. I wanted Nick to give me a good answer. I didn’t want to believe that the same fucking rogue that killed Stephen Vollen was still operating in Hillsborough.

“I talked to Gunny before the raid on the TCV Hall. He said that an expected shipment of Silver Shoks hadn’t arrived.” I remembered his brother Boomer mentioning the same thing as I was preparing for the raid. It wasn’t unusual for shipments of silver rounds to be late. It was hard for our kin in the ammunition firms to circumvent the normal security procedures to sneak us our silver bullets. It took longer than it should to confirm whether or not a shipment was merely late or if it had been intercepted. “This explains what happened to it. I think we ought to see if this bullet was in one of the lots that were on that truck.”

“Still, it could have been our rogue,” I replied, playing devil’s advocate.

“Maybe, but I doubt it. If it was a hunter, why darken the area? He could have infiltrated the area without doing that and arousing suspicion from the neighbors. Why kill the kin? Hunters never complicate things by killing humans unless necessary. You know that. It just brings unwanted attention to our situation. This was a big, bold, and staged affair. The Bleeders wanted to know that they were behind this. I think you were right. The new leader to the Bleeders is fucking scary.”

“Then there is another question,” I said, moving to the door, “How did they know when to strike at her?” The possible answers to that question were not good. We needed to talk to the Guildmaster. I picked up the phone and called the Manor. It rang six times and then disconnected. I related this to Nick. He thought for a moment before answering.

“When the site went down, every lycanthrope on the net probably called the Manor. The phones must be swamped,” he answered. I wasn’t satisfied. There was something else wrong. I could feel it in my bones. My instincts all said to return to the Manor. At least, I thought it was my instincts. All I kept seeing was Elizabeth, and it didn’t do anything to help me think straight.

“What do we do about her?” I asked, nodding my head to the body.

“Call a shaman and tell him to get over here. They know what to do about this.” He walked out of the room as I called the shaman. After several calls, I managed to get a hold of a minor member of the Order who said that he would come out to the Guildmaster’s house as soon as possible. I thanked the young shaman and went to go find Nick.

He was in the offices sorting through the trashed files. A small fire was raging in the trash can. “What are you doing?” I asked him as I walked in.

“Disposing of a few incriminating files. There’s some stuff in here I’d rather not chance to the Order seeing.” I agreed with that and helped him. We needed to get this done as fast as possible and get back to the Manor. As he handed me a file, I lit it on fire with a lighter he had found in the broken desk and then threw it into the trash can. I didn’t bother reading any of it, since the files were in sealed manila envelopes with one word codenames written in black marker on them. It took us about fifteen minutes to burn the files.

Just as we were finishing up, my phone began vibrating on my side. I looked down to see who was calling me, only to find a three digit code blinking. Ancestors, it was the immediate recall code that was triggered by the Guildmaster pressing his panic button. He was in trouble, and if he was in trouble so was…

I didn’t let the thought finish itself. I just grabbed my shotgun and flew out of the house. I kicked my motorcycle, and then realized that I had not even checked for Nicky. I was relieved when I heard the revving of his bike. I slid the shotgun into its scabbard and opened the throttle. Our two bikes screamed through the roadways, narrowly dodging cars and pedestrians alike. I didn’t care. I had one thought. I had to get to her.

I could see the pillar of smoke a mile or so before I saw the Manor. The gate was blown apart, its two columns torn apart. I could see nearly two dozen vampires in true form swarming the few lycanthropes desperately trying to fend them off. I shed my human form, letting the pale view of the human senses sharpen as my true form came about. Pulling the shotgun from its scabbard, I launched myself from my motorcycle, barely watching it as it collided with one of the leeches. I landed in the exact spot I had jumped from and let loose a quick three blasts of silver buckshot. Several leeches were caught by the blast and fell to the ground. I checked my six, only to find Nick taking out several more leeches with his M4.

I ran towards the front door, letting loose shotgun blasts as leeches tried to get in my way. As I entered the door, I put the last shell through a pair of leeches attacking a Red Knight. I picked the semi-conscious lycanthrope off the floor and pulled him over to the wall. Bullets cracked overhead as warriors and leeches fired and returned fire around us.

“What happened?” I asked the Knight as I surveyed the battle around me. Knights and warriors filled the hallway, but they were still outnumbered by the flood of leeches and ghouls. Nick covered me, neatly cutting a pair of leeches in half with his carbine. He quickly reloaded his M4 as a pair of Knights moved past us to set up a crossfire against a pocket of ghouls.

“I don’t know. All of them just appeared,” he said, coughing through his injuries, “They broke their way through us and got into the Manor. Just came out of nowhere.” I saw his eyes grow wide in fear. Sensing more than seeing, I picked up the fragment of one of the broken flower tables and drove the stake over my shoulder. I felt the leech I caught with the strike stiffened on the wood fragment. I heard the vampire fall to the floor as I let go of the stake. I nodded to the Knight and handed over the empty shotgun and some shells that were in my pocket. As the wounded Knight loaded the shells into the shotgun, I pulled out my USP and grabbed Nicky.

“We’ve got to get into the Manor.” I yelled over the din of the surrounding battle. Nick just nodded and quickly emptied the magazine into a large group of ghouls about fifteen feet from us. They fell to the ground trying to get away from the stream of silver bullets. Nick replaced the magazine in his gun as a pair of shaman joined us and exploded the ghouls’ heads with some strange incantation. Nick chambered the first round on his fresh magazine, and we leapt through the battle. We pushed, shoved, and shot our way through. When we got to the doors, we saw a pair of battered ghouls in full body armor and wielding very large machine guns. Pockmarks on the front of their armor said that the two ghouls had been here awhile. There were a few piles of dead lycanthropes in front of the two. The two ghouls noticed as Nick and I emerged from the throng of the melee. Without a word, the two swept their weapons at us. As they opened up, the Nick and I dove behind the necromantic cover.

Bullets kicked up parts of the tile floor in front of us. The two ghouls continued to spray the area with their weapons until their weapons locked on empty chambers. As soon as their firing stopped, Nick and I jumped from our cover. I double-tapped the one in front of me into its head as Nick cut the other one down with a short burst from his M4. Both staggered for a moment and then collapsed.

The doors to the Manor had been shakily erected after the witch-hunters had blown them down. With the two ghoul guards down, I figured knocking the doors back down would be the easiest entry. Hand signals flew between Nick and me. Simultaneous shoulder hits shoved the right door back down. As it fell, it caught two leeches who were throwing knives into one of the pack warriors. The Manor was a mess. The fighting had all the organization of a street brawl. Pockets of lycanthropes were fighting with waves of leeches, while single battles were occurring in the crossfire. Bullets whistled by Nick and me, so we both started firing at the leeches.

From the door, we moved to the wall, making sure that there was nothing behind us. Through the gunfire, I searched for Elizabeth. I didn’t see her, but I did see Hangman cutting down groups of leeches with a pair of M16s. It looked like a bad action movie scene, but Hangman was keeping the tide of leeches away from him with short bursts of fire. I put a round into the head of a leech that tried to get too close, and then suggested to Nick that we go help the pup. He nodded and sprayed a hole into the vampires in front of us. As he exchanged magazines, I dashed into the hole, deepening it with double-taps. As soon as my magazine went dry, Nick leap-frogged me and deepened the hole again as I replaced the magazine in my pistol.

We worked our way slowly through the clogged Manor floor, exchanging the point position a few more times before we reached Hangman. Hangman was surprised as we emerged from the mob, and almost shot us for our trouble. Then we saw why he was so determined to hold his ground. At his feet was the Guildmaster, bleeding from several wounds to his chest. Nick bent down to examine him as Hangman and I provided cover fire.

“We’ve got to get him to help fast. These are very bad,” Nick said. I looked around the Manor, but couldn’t see any sign of a place that we could safely move the Guildmaster to. Hell, there wasn’t anyplace safe in the entire Manor.

“Why don’t we get him to that corridor we used during the witch-hunter attack?” asked Hangman, busily putting a wall of silver between the oncoming leeches and our little group. Nick and I exchanged glances and then nodded simultaneously. It would be dangerous to move him, but we weren’t going to last long out in the middle of the battle. A lycanthrope slammed down next to the Guildmaster, bleeding from a close-range shotgun blast. Hangman quickly disposed of the shotgun-wielding leech and the three of us tried to pick up the Guildmaster.

We could hear his grunts of pain as we half-carried, half-dragged him over to the section of wall where we thought the corridor was. The Guildmaster looked up dazedly at what we were doing and had us raise him so that he could unlock the access door. As the door opened, Nick and Hangman threw the Guildmaster into the darkened corridor as I shot off the remaining rounds in the magazine.

The door closed solidly and the sounds of the battle muffled down. We began to pick up the Guildmaster to move him back to the armory. There were medical supplies there. I needed to wash out those wounds and let his body heal him.

“STOP,” the Guildmaster yelled, with a sickening tone of agony in his voice. The three of us halted immediately and gently lowered the Guildmaster to the concrete floor. The dark made it hard to see his eyes, but I could hear his pained breathing. I was at a loss for words. This lycanthrope was almost like a father to me, and I could see the precious life draining out of him and onto the floor.

“Marcus, Nicholas, and Samuel,” he coughed. He raised himself to a sitting position, leaning back on the wall of the corridor. “I had such hopes for the three of you. Now, because of this, they have been destroyed. I hate doing this. I could live with dying if we were going to win this battle, but we’re not.” All of us were shocked by his words. The Guildmaster never said such things. He was always the one urging us to push on even when the situation was bleak.

“New pack warriors just arrived, and they are regrouping outside the Manor,” Nick said, his tone urging the Guildmaster to hold on. The Guildmaster groaned in pain before he began again.

“Too little, too late. Silanti has an army of undead like I haven’t seen before in Florida. I don’t know where he got them, but they outnumber us almost ten to one. The rest of his forces are running through the Manor, and they will kill us off. Now, I must ask something of you that will go against everything that you have been taught.” He wheezed, the pain of his wounds racking his body as his lungs tried to inhale air. The blood had already soaked his pelt and was pooling around his body.

“The three of you must leave here. You must go to Tallahassee. You must inform the prince of our downfall. He must have time to prepare before a war council is called. Leave the Manor, go to the Guild, gather your things, and leave this county. By nightfall tomorrow, it will be leech territory.

“This is not easy for any of us. You three were going to become pivotal members in the Guild after me. Now the Guild is broken. Kurt is dead, and Ronin and James are missing. Most of our members here are dead, and the rest will soon join their brethren.” His eyes locked on mine before he continued. “I’m sorry Marcus, but I do not know what happened to the Lady- Apparent. I saw a few Knights leading her out of the Manor, but there are so many leeches and ghouls in the Manor itself, I don’t know if she made it out alive. You can’t waste time looking for her. Marcus, you of most of all, be careful. You don’t know your own history, and those who do will either manipulate you or try to kill you.” He turned his head to Nicky. “Nicholas I need you to protect these two. You know why.” Nick nodded without a word. Finally, the Guildmaster faced Hangman. “Samuel, I had hoped that someday you would succeed me, you were the promise of the new generation. Go now, and don’t return until you can win back our county.”

He didn’t die with his last statement. He continued to gasp and grabbed one of Hangman’s M16’s. I wanted to stay, so that the Guildmaster wouldn’t meet the Ancestors alone. However, he had given us our job, and it was time to complete it. That would be the best, and final, deed we could ever do for our Guildmaster.

We moved down the hall to the Manor’s armory. If we were going to do this, we needed more than weapons and definitely more ammunition. As we neared the armory, I heard the unique voices of vampires. Our first action would be to clear out those motherfuckers from the armory – and we had the element of surprise. The concealed door opened and the four vampires froze at the sight of the three of us. Well placed fire quickly cut down the first two. The other two snapped out of their momentary panic and tried to attack, but they were brought down by a pair of shots from Hangman. The pup’s face was a mask of pure neutrality. Whatever he was feeling, Hangman had it suppressed deep within himself. Normally I would be happy and proud that the pup was becoming more of a professional hunter, but for some reason I was feeling a strange sorrow. I forced my mind to push back these strange emotions and get into full job-mode. I grabbed an MP5 from an almost emptied weapons rack, and the three of us loaded up with extra ammunition. A sound from the doorway, and we all pointed our weapons as a pack warrior staggered in bleeding.

“The leeches are completely overrunning us,” the pack warrior gasped, “Knights sent me for weapons and ammo.”

“You found them,” Nick said, his voice completely devoid of emotion. All three of us had more or less shoved back all the pain of seeing our Guildmaster dying on the hallway floor. The job was the only important thing now. Nick looked at the warrior. “Grab as much as you can. We’ll give you a hand.” As the pack warrior began to grab magazines, Hangman, Nick and I put on web gear and began festooning them with magazines for our weapons. If we were going to get out of the Manor, we were going to have to fight our way out. Nick and I were thinking the same thing. If we helped with a counterattack, we might be able to push through and get to the Guild.

The pack warrior led us out of the armory, through the blood-streaked hallways. Nick had to yank the pack warrior back a couple of times so that the frantic wolf wouldn’t outpace us. We understood that time was of the essence, and his comrades were probably in desperate need of the ammunition that the wolf was cradling in his arms, but it wouldn’t do a damn bit of good if we ran into a vampire ambush or into the field of fire of jittery pack warriors.

The gunfire echoing through the halls changed from sporadic to sustained. We were getting close to the action. We turned another corner. The firefight was intense. There were maybe a dozen lycanthropes using hastily assembled furniture as cover. Most of them were firing full-auto at the mass of vampires. As I looked beyond the lycanthropes’ positions, I saw piles of dead vampires, but a horde more charging straight into the guns of the lycanthropes. The lycanthropes were probably outnumbered at least thirty to one. As I scanned the hallway more closely, I could pick out where other lycanthrope positions had fallen. The vampires were simply pressing forward with their wave of bodies, trading on their numerical advantage. I have never in my life seen such a battle tactic used in the conflict between the vampires and the lycanthropes. Neither side ever had the numbers to even attempt such a tactic. Where in the Ancestors’ Names did the TCV get all of these vampires?

Nick took control of the situation, sending Hangman and myself along the sides of the hallway. We ducked into doorways, adding to the fusillade of gunfire holding back the waves of vampires. There was something very wrong with the situation. Vampires could be foolish and do stupid things, but not something that could be categorized as so blatantly stupid as to running into the silver bullets of the lycanthropes.

Hangman and I begin by using single shots to begin to thin the waves by hitting the vampires that seemed to be making progress against the gunfire. It was like firing at targets on the range. The vampires weren’t dodging or taking cover. They were just pushing through their fallen to advance on the lycanthropes with almost bestial looks on their faces. I hoped Nick had a damn good idea of how to stem the undead tide. Where had the TCV gotten all of these fucking leeches?

“FIRE IN THE HOLE!” came Nick’s yell over the din of gunfire. Hangman and I slid into our respective doorways. I could see the small canister sailing over the lycanthropes. The hallway shook with the explosion of the concussion grenade. “RANGER, HANGMAN, KILL THEM ALL!”

This was a new side to Nick, but I didn’t have time to ponder it. I jumped back into the hallway and charged the staggering vampires. Hangman was right beside me, as both of us begin firing at any vampire still upright. My HK emptied, and I let the weapon fall on its sling as I drew my pistol out of its holster. Leech after leech went down, but I was aware that Hangman and I were going to be swallowed whole as soon as the leeches recovered from the shock of the concussion grenade.

Suddenly there were three more lycanthropes standing beside Hangman and myself, all firing away with their assault rifles. Their appearance allowed for Hangman and me to do quick magazine changes on our primary weapons and return to the slaughter of the leeches. As the five of us pushed, six more lycanthropes came to our side, joining our fusillade with their weapons. Eleven of us continued to push against the leeches, which still hadn’t had a chance to recover from the grenade. The momentum had shifted to our side.

Nick finally came up beside us, with a Red Knight in tow. “Hangman, Ranger, fall back!”

“What the fuck Nick?” I asked as we fell back to where he had withdrawn to a few yards behind the new lycanthrope push.

“That Red Knight can lead the counterattack,” Nick answered, “We have to try and get out of the Manor.” It didn’t make me happy, but Nick was right. Our job was to get to the Guild and then get to Tallahassee. As we watched the lycanthropes continue the fight, we reoriented our location and made our way up through the Manor. We had to get to the half-floor at the very top of the Manor. We found one of the smaller staircases and carefully crept up the stairs. I had taken the lead as we climbed the staircase. It had taken a great deal of restraint to stop myself from joining in the two battles we passed as the three of us made our way up. The half-floor was only a floor above us, and we had to get out as fast as we could.

I stopped maybe ten feet from where the stairs stopped at the half-floor. My instincts were roaring with danger, and I took a look around the stairwell. It was the bullet holes that told me we were about to be slaughtered. Hangman and Nick were giving me confused looks as I scanned the stairwell. The bullet holes weren’t a splattering of pockmarks. There were several parts where the bullets cut almost straight lines through the dry wall. There was only one weapon that could reliably make marks like that – especially with a half-assed crew serving it. The vampires had liberated the minigun from the half-floor. We would have been cut down before we had a chance to do anything. I snaked up the remaining stairs and scanned the hallway before letting myself slide back down.

“The leeches have managed to turn the gun around, but they’ve kept it on its mount,” I whispered to Nick and Hangman, “It looks like some Knights tried to retake the room, and their bodies are splattered all over the hall. I saw three leeches by the minigun and at least a dozen more. Getting out this way is going to be a mite bit difficult.” Okay, it was going to be damn difficult, and my two companions knew it.

“The minigun’s the killer,” Hangman stated, “Take it out and we’ve got a fighting chance. How about a grenade?”

“It’s about forty-five feet to the minigun, with a low ceiling,” Nick laid out, “No lobbing, so it’d have to be a real weak toss. I’m not that good with a grenade.” I wasn’t either. We just didn’t use them that often in our work.

“Give it to me,” Hangman whispered tersely, holding his hand out, “I used to play baseball with some of the other pups during tysach. I can land it right where we want it.” Nick handed him the last of the fragmentation grenades. Hangman slid upstairs, poked his head up once, and then tossed the grenade with a practiced ease that I had never seen in the pup before. A crashing explosion rocked through the room and hallway. The three of us moved in concert. We had maybe two or three seconds before our enemies would recover from the shock of the explosion. It took us that long just to dance around the bodies in the short hallway between the stairs and the entrance to the half-room. As the three of us darted through the entrance to the half-floor, I could see the minigun had been ripped from its mount by the blast. Its impromptu crew had been mangled by the silver fragments from the grenade.

A burst from my left – Nick had begun the fight. A form rose in front of me. The MP5 stuttered and the form went back down. Longer burst to my right meant Hangman had found more than one target for his weapon. The three of us began rushing to the glass doors at the back of the half-floor. We didn’t stop moving. Anything that moved towards us was a target, and we made sure that we put rounds on the targets. We had to make it to the outside. Once there, we could engage the bastards. About half-way through the room, Nick took over point position so that Hangman and I could reverse step and cover our exit. Precise bursts reduced the leeches to about half of their number on the half-floor, but the remaining leeches were more than enough to swarm us if we backed off for a moment. Intense fire discipline training was the only thing that made crossing the half-floor less than suicidal.

“Ranger, you and Hangman hold them here,” Nick yelled as we finally exited the Manor. I didn’t know what Nick was up to, but I didn’t argue. I trusted Nick to know what he was doing, just as he trusted Hangman and me to keep the vampires and ghouls in the Manor and off our backs. About ten yards down the slope from the half-floor, Hangman and I dropped to the grass and began laying down fire. Those savage vampires that flooded the Manor were coming out in singles and small groups. Hangman and I were easily knocking them down quickly with accurate bursts and single shots, but the numbers that were pouring out of the Manor were depleting our ammunition. I dropped the empty magazine out of my MP5 as my hand felt the empty magazine holder. My hand slid down and drew my USP. Things were going to get interesting if Nick didn’t get back quickly.

The Ancestors must have heard my comments, because just as I began taking down vampires with my pistol, Nick came up behind us in true form. He was dragging his and my motorcycles. I didn’t wait for any small talk or banter. We needed to get the hell out of Dodge. I tapped Hangman on the shoulder. He rose up into a crouch and began snaking back the bottom of the slope. We climbed onto our motorcycles – Hangman climbed onto the back of mine – and tore out of the area. We screamed through the streets to get to the Guild.

The human houses on top of the Guild were deserted, the kin had apparently evacuated when the Manor was attacked. The Guild itself was eerily empty. The hunters moved from the Guild to the Manor after the attack by the witch-hunters in order to bolster the security forces and to give the Lady-Apparent a strong power base. Nick and Hangman rummaged through the armory and garage to ready ourselves for our trek to Tallahassee. I transferred all the data on the little conspiracy that Nick, Hangman, and I had been investigating onto some memory sticks and put them into a manila envelope. Those we would need in Tallahassee. Then came the longest part.

The Hillsborough County chapter’s intelligence and resources database had to be dumped into a series of removable hard drives, which was kind of a time consuming task. One of us would stand watch over the bar graph as it clicked off the percentage of the drive filled by the massive database. The other two would ready the Guild for sealing. The Guild was one facility we could not allow the vampires to possess. When it was built, there were provisions made so that it could be locked down and impenetrable. When the drives were done, we loaded them into a specially designed case that protected the drives from everything including shock and electro-magnetic damage. We placed the case into the back of the Chevy Suburban that we would be taking to Tallahassee. It was already loaded with some of our personal gear and a lot of weapons. The three of us knew that we wouldn’t be able to ask for help from any of the counties that we would be traversing. Anything that we would need, we would have to carry. Each of us made sure that we had pretty much everything we would need on our travel to Tallahassee. Satisfied, the three of us finished sealing the Guild.

Thanks to Mrs. Werstand, the Guild had been equipped with heavy steel doors at the entrances to each level. The “blast doors” effectively sealed each level off from the others. Independent climate-controls took over and the main system was shut down. At the top, we closed the access points from each house. As the personal hitter for the Guildmaster, I was authorized to override the set lock codes and put a unique code in place. A small series of electronic beeps signaled that the Guild was completely sealed off. It was going to be tough on the lycanthropes still in Hillsborough, but I just couldn’t chance the TCV getting their soiled hands on the Guild. Satisfied that I had just denied the Guild to anyone, I sent a coded message to my townhouse. It would be locked down and my computer erased. Even if the leeches figured out where I lived, they would have a hard time getting in, and all they would find would be some weapons and little else. As I looked up from the confirmation message, I saw Nick and Hangman had just completed similar tasks. There was a momentary silence as each of us made the realization that we had just cut our ties to our home. It was a disconcerting feeling that shook me down to my bones.

Her face floated in front of my eyes. I could see every detail with a clarity that I didn’t believe possible. The dimples in her smile, the brightness of her green eyes, the slight frizziness of her auburn hair, the small scar above her lip – I could see all of them, and a deep, almost overwhelming pain threatened to overwhelm me. I don’t remember going down to one knee, but I do remember Nick’s hand on my shoulder. As Elizabeth’s face faded back into my mind, Nick helped me back up. There was an unusual look on his face. I had seen Nick happy, mad, and almost every other mood. Sympathetic was one that I had never seen on his face. It looked very strange, but very comforting. I slumped into the back seat as Hangman and Nick climbed into the front. I felt the rumbling of the Suburban’s engine and closed my eyes as we pulled out of the garage. The idea that I might never see Elizabeth again was flashing through my head with enough pain that I just went numb. I closed my eyes and tried to push away the horror in my mind with the blissful numbness of unconsciousness.

Chapter 12

There Are Worse Things Than Being on Trial For My Life

The blackness faded as I opened my eyes slowly. The world slowly came into focus. I looked around the cell I was confined in. Something was wrong. Something was out of place. Then, it came to me. Everything was black and white. I had shifted to wolf form in my sleep. I shed my wolf form for true form, feeling my body extend as I emotionally triggered the transformation. My senses became sharper and integrated themselves, making the environment around me more complete. A scent floated into the cell. I looked at the door, where the Guildmaster stood with one of the marshals that had been standing guard. The Guildmaster was in human form, strange for the Manor, and was dressed in a business suit, carrying a briefcase.

“Hello Marcus,” he said, guardedly, “I assumed that I was one of the three that you would want to see.” By the rules of rhiazen, I was allowed to see three and only three lycanthropes before going to see the lord or lady. I could talk to them as many times as I wanted, but only those three. The only other lycanthropes that could talk to me were the lord or lady (in this case it would be the Lady-Apparent), the marshals guarding me, and the lycanthrope who would speak for the accuser, which was usually the accuser himself. I nodded to the marshal beside the Guildmaster. He slid the door open to allow the Guildmaster inside. Afterwards, he slid the door shut and walked back to his position by the staircase. I noticed that the two of them had leaned their rifles on the wall, instead of carrying them. They had relaxed their guard. I placed it on memory, in case I needed it later. One of the things they had drilled into me during my training as a hunter was that information was important, because you never knew when you might need it later. I filed that thought away as the Guildmaster sat down in front of me.

“Mark, are you alright?” he asked in a concerned tone. It was amplified by his using a less formal version of my name. In all of the time that I had known him, he had never called me Mark. Normally, it would have concerned me to almost terror, but with everything else that was happening, I just didn’t have time to react to it.

“Yeah, just a little stiff from last night’s fun and games, and my side still hurts like hell.” I stretched out my arms, trying to work out the kinks in the joints and muscles, which my side burned in complaint. The wolfsbane was working, but slowly. Smythe’s stab wound would heal in about twelve hours if past experience counted for anything. The Guildmaster didn’t seem to appreciate my attempt at levity.

“We heard the ‘Knightfall.’ What the hell happened? I heard that you had a hand in the lord’s death, and that the Knights are going to also accuse you of Stephen’s death as well.” I carefully explained, in great detail, exactly what happened during the raid. The Guildmaster sat absolutely quiet as I related the part of Smythe attacking me. As I led up to the part where I had called “Knightfall,” the codeword for betrayal by the Knights, the Guildmaster stopped me with a raised hand.

“We heard that you had surrendered to the Knights. I am impressed by your quick thinking. Matric says that he will do everything he can for your defense.” I made a grimace at that. The Guildmaster’s face grew grim. “I know how you feel about him, but Matric is well connected in the Manor and even with the shaman. He is also aware that you called ‘Knightfall,’ and is worried about the implications for us. He will do his best, and put away any differences that the two of you have had, as long as you reciprocate.” I nodded to this. Much to my dismay, if anyone could help me now, it would be Matric.

“I have another problem that I need your help with,” he said. He opened his briefcase. I heard the M16s come up off the wall and the safeties snap off. A moment later, the marshals snapped them back on when it became apparent that the Guildmaster had no weapons inside his briefcase. I smiled briefly, then read the papers he had given me. The papers were transcripts of radio reports from last night, as well as some written contact reports by some of the hit packs.

“Two packs and four lone wolves never returned last night. All of them did their jobs, but something happened after they had all reported back their completed status. All of the jobs were clustered in the Forest Hills area. One of the lone wolves, Samson, reported seeing one of the packs engaged in a firefight with an unknown enemy force. He went to join them, and they all disappeared.” I followed the paper trail as the Guildmaster laid out the facts. Something was gnawing at me. There was a common factor with all of these that made me worry. I knew Samson, and he was too good a hunter to just disappear. The vampires had their hands full last night, so I doubted their involvement. The human magic-wielders could have made our hunters vanish, but they would not have involved themselves in a firefight. It was too petty in their arrogant thinking. My mind came up with two possibilities. One was on the outside chance of being probable. The other one however - it did fit all of the evidence, but I was really hoping that I was wrong.

“None of them contacted us after they had finished their jobs, with the exception of Samson, and we never heard from him once he reported the firefight,” I summarized. The Guildmaster nodded with a worried expression. My gut twisted. “You’re thinking what I am thinking, aren’t you?”

“Yes, but there is not enough evidence to bring it to the Lady-Apparent. If I bring it to her now, it will look like I’m doing it to free you, and she may dismiss it out of hand. I have Christian’s pack and Samuel investigating now. You will not speak of it until I have enough evidence. However, since you are one of the few lycanthropes in this county who has had to deal with this threat before, I wanted you to confirm it.” I nodded to him to let him know that I would comply. I hoped Hangman didn’t find what I thought it was. He was too young to deal with it without a lot of backup, say most of the Guild’s best hunters, and most of the armory’s heavy weapons.

He took some clothing out of his briefcase and handed them to me. I unfolded them carefully, more to show the marshals there were no weapons concealed in the folds than anything else. Jeans, t-shirt, and the necessary undergarments – it was almost my unofficial uniform. I slipped them on as the Guildmaster walked out of the cell. “Is there anything else you need for right now?” he asked.

“Send Nick.”

I fell asleep again, hoping to regain my strength. I was awakened by a sharp jab in my side. The wound had healed up nicely, but it was still a little more tender than I would have liked, and the second jab really annoyed me. I opened my eyes to slits and saw one of the guards poking me in the side with the muzzle of his rifle. I couldn’t see the face of the lycanthrope standing beside him, but the relaxed stance of whomever it was made me think it wasn’t the other guard. I really wasn’t happy at being awakened so rudely. The barrel lunged again at my side. I grabbed the barrel and yanked. The guard, caught unaware by the move, was pulled into the bars. He slumped down to the concrete floor, bleeding from several gashes from the silver barbs, and the rifle clattered to the ground. I scooped up the weapon and released the magazine. A small, feminine chuckle focused my attention on my visitor.

The Lady-Apparent was standing in human form, wearing a simple but elegantly-cut forest green dress. Her long auburn hair was tied into a single, long braid and draped down one shoulder. Her bright green eyes flashed with appeared to be amusement. I tossed the unloaded rifle to the ground and stood to face her. I hadn’t seen her since the Rite of Discovery, and had forgotten how beautiful she was. I pushed that thought away, concentrating on why she was visiting me here. After all, this was the lycanthrope that would probably order my execution.

“Impressive,” she said, a warm tone to her voice, “You are as dangerous as I was warned.” She took a half-step back from the bars. She looked at me for a moment, apparently studying me. I felt uncomfortable, with my instincts roaring danger, but other parts of my mind were almost enjoying the attention. I wasn’t sure why, and it was unnerving me. I was having too many conflicting feelings running through me. I tried to push all of it to the back of my mind and concentrate on exactly why the Lady-Apparent was visiting me. That’s when I noticed that there were no Red Knights escorting her. Every time that I had met with a member of the aristocracy, the Knights were always hovering around. Perhaps around the security of the Manor, the Knights relaxed their presence, but that theory just went against everything that I knew about the Knights. What was the Lady-Apparent doing down in the dungeons without her bodyguards and in the presence of a lycanthrope she had already said was “dangerous.” I decided that it was time to cut to the chase. I didn’t really have the patience to dance around the courtesies.

“May I ask what you are doing here, milady?” I asked quietly, and hopefully, with a neutral tone. I didn’t want any of the raging conflict within me leaking out into the open. My words must have come out harsher than I had wanted because the other guard at the end of the hall clenched his teeth at my tone, but a wave of the hand from the Lady-Apparent calmed him. She motioned to the inert form of the guard that I had incapacitated, and ordered for the guard to leave the two of us alone. The guard blinked, completely taken surprise by the order. He quickly recovered, picked up his unconscious partner, and hurried out of the dungeon. I sat very still as the Lady-Apparent began pacing in front of my cell. She seemed almost pensive, but I couldn’t understand what would cause such caution from her. Everything that I had seen from her had led me to believe that she was an extremely strong and confident lycanthrope.

“I’ve come to see the hunter that has caused the deaths of both my father and my brother,” she answered, turning to face me. Her tone was flat, almost without emotion, but her eyes betrayed a raging torrent of emotions within her. I didn’t envy her one bit. She had lost her father and older brother within six months of each other, and now she was thrust into leading a county at war. Something deep inside me felt – torn? – for the enormous burden she must have been carrying.

“I didn’t kill them milady,” I answered, and I knew I was having a hard time controlling my temper. I was a Badmoon, an outcast amongst the lycanthrope society, and yet, I served that society faithfully and more diligently than most of the accepted members. I had protected those accepted members from dangers they had never even been aware of. I had put my life on the line more times than I could remember. Smythe’s allegations attacked my honor as a hunter – the one thing that gave me any sort of real identity within the lycanthrope society.

“You didn’t prevent them from being killed,” the Lady-Apparent answered, “Your accusers are saying that twice isn’t coincidence. It’s conspiracy.” An unusual rage filled me. I know that I have a nasty chip on my shoulder about my treatment as a Badmoon. I deal with it by channeling that anger into my work because I always felt my success was the best revenge against those who hated me just because of my origin. Something about having the Lady-Apparent accuse me of such a serious crime made my blood boil with righteous rage.

“Fuck them,” I growled, and she seemed to be taken aback by my blunt profanity, “I thought your grandfather was a damned fool of a lord, but your father was nothing like him. The Guild loved and respected your father, because he let us redeem our professionalism and honor. The idea of one of us having anything to do with his murder is beyond the pale, milady. As for your brother, he made a rash mistake. He paid for it.” I bit down on my tongue before I could speak further. My anger was getting the best of me, and I could tell by her eyes she wasn’t expecting it.

“Then why are the Knights accusing you?” she asked. She seemed truly confused. She seemed torn between the idea that the Knights could truly believe something that she wasn’t convinced was true. “Why would Smythe think that you need to be killed?”

“I don’t know,” I answered, “Part of me wants to think it’s because I’m a Badmoon, but even that doesn’t seem to fit what has been going on. It may have been related to the murder of your father, but I don’t know for sure. I have enough reason to believe that someone powerful ordered his murder. The assassin was a lycanthrope, and he must have been a hunter.” Her eyes widened as I spoke. None of this had been told to her. “I’m sorry milady, but it’s the only theory that fits the evidence we have. The assassin was just too good to be anything but a hunter. He was just too damned good.”

“Better than you?” the Lady-Apparent asked, with a lilt to her tone that had me completely baffled, “From your reputation, I didn’t think that was possible.” She gave me a look that completely unnerved me. My mind just went blank as those green eyes bore into mine. My reprieve came from behind her.

“Trust me milady, that hunter is as dangerous as he is reputed. And much more,” came a deep voice from behind. Nicky emerged from the staircase. He was in true form, a jumpsuit stretching itself to hold his huge form. He had the rifle of the other guard slung on his shoulder. “Ranger is quite possibly the best hunter your county has.”

“A friend of yours?” the Lady-Apparent asked me with a strange look on her face. Was it betrayal? I nodded slowly. “Well then, I’ll take my leave of you.” With that, she glided across the floor in regal fashion and left the dungeon. Nick unslung the rifle from his shoulder, and leaned it on the wall. He shed his true form for human as he walked over to where I was. The tight jumpsuit now sagged off his much smaller human body. His face was its normal blank, but his eyes were curious.

“What was she doing here?” he asked, his voice laced with suspicion

“Haven’t a fucking clue,” I answered, as I picked up the M16 and inserted the magazine. I passed the rifle butt first to Nicky. “First she has the guards leave, then she accuses me of being behind the deaths of her father and brother, then asks me why the Knights are accusing me? There was something about it that seemed very scattered. Fuck me, I don’t know. All I know is it made me very uncomfortable.” Nicky looked back to the staircase for a moment.

“It doesn’t make sense,” he said, with a hint of frustration in his voice, “She called the Guildmaster first thing this morning for your dossier. Then, she shows up here. Do you think she believes you or Smythe?” From Nick’s tone there was more to that question, but I couldn’t decipher my friend at the moment.

“I don’t know,” I answered, “I don’t think she knows. When I told her my suspicions, it looked like that it was the first time she had heard any of that. Speaking of which, have you found out anything more on our little mystery?” I asked, sitting down on the mat that served as my bed. Nothing like open war in your county to interfere with an important investigation.

“No, but I have Hangman searching around today,” Nick answered, “The leeches and their ghouls have disappeared after the raid on the Hall, which has been burned to the ground. The Guildmaster thinks that they are regrouping, and I concur. The Knights are claiming victory, but most of the packs seem to consider a pyrrhic one at best. Still, all of the packs and the Guild have more or less stood down until the Rites are completed, and you are tried, of course. Hangman and I decided it might be a good time to start looking around. I have him talking around to see what information he can dig up on the lords of the counties on that map. Particularly if they have access to a hunter that isn’t with the Guild.”

“When’s the Rite of the Dead?” The way the Spiritmaster had been operating over the past few months made me ask. I wouldn’t be surprised if they had performed it while I had been locked up.

“Strange thing about that. The Spiritmaster wants to perform the Rite after the Lady-Apparent deals with you. There was a small outrage over that, but according to Yven, the Spiritmaster’s deputy, the Order of Spirits feels that the spirit of Jason Vollen will rest better when his murderer is dealt with. The pack leaders seemed to have accepted that, although the Guildmaster is raising hell. Very careful not to outright accuse the Knights of betrayal, but he’s making the packs nervous. The rumor going around the packs is that the Guildmaster is looking to puppet-master the Lady-Apparent.” Usually the Guildmaster was a very deliberate and cautious individual. He had me to do the impulsive and insane things. If he was acting this boldly, something was happening that I couldn’t see.

“I didn’t kill him,” I protested to Nicky.

“I know. There are enough witnesses to confirm that it was Silanti who actually did the killing. However, the Knights, who have chosen Smythe to lead them now since their old leader was killed in the raid on the Hall, contend that your inability to kill either of the assassins of the lords proves that you are in league with the leeches. They still think it was a lycanthrope hired by the TCV who killed Stephen Vollen.”

“What do you think?” I asked, my mind comprehending what was happening to me. Nicky looked at me, almost like he was reading my mind.

“I think you’re being fucked royally. Someone had Stephen Vollen taken down, and we know it was another lord or lady. I still haven’t figured out who, but that’s becoming less and less important in the short run. Smythe stopped you from killing Silanti before Silanti blew Jason Vollen’s brains out, and now he is accusing you of the failure. Moreover, none of his Knights that were with you are going to say anything on your behalf. I’d say you are about to be crucified for nothing and the agenda of whoever had Stephen killed will be accomplished, in as much as this county will be out of whatever political game is being played. I wouldn’t be surprised if it had something to do with the war council that will have to convene in Tallahassee. In addition, Silanti is still out there, but the aristocracy is failing to locate and exterminate him and his remaining followers.” He paused after his summary. There was something else, but the Guildmaster had told me not to say anything until he had proof, and I wasn’t going to defy him, even to Nicky.

“What’s the Order doing?” I asked.

“Calling for your head on a platter and consoling the Lady-Apparent. According to Matric, though, she hasn’t talked much to the Spiritmaster. In fact, she has been doing a lot of research into the Guild and into some of the individuals, including you.” He tilted his head as he thought about what he was telling me. “I wonder if she is going to try and micro-manage us?” I grimaced at that thought. The first Lord Vollen, Stephen’s father, had tried that and nearly caused the hunters’ downfall in Hillsborough. Outsiders rarely understand how we do things, and are usually better off not knowing. Nick cleared his throat and gave me an apprehensive look.

“Listen, Hangman and I will be there for your hearing. We are going to bring all the data that we have on this conspiracy. Maybe it will help you. If not, do you want us…?” He let the question trail off. I knew what he was offering. He and Hangman would break me out of the Manor before the Knights had a chance to kill me if I asked. However, we would be pariahs where ever we went, and more likely hunted by every Guild chapter in Florida, including the State Guild. I shook my head no. I would have to die, and the Guild would have to avenge me. With an unhappy resignation in his eyes, Nicky walked back up the staircase and never looked back. There was a calm stillness in the air. My life was at its end, so I had better go out with a bang. For some reason, a picture of the Lady-Apparent formed in my mind. I pushed it back as I began to plan the end of my life. So many details.

The Manor was full of lycanthropes. The pack leaders had brought as many members of their packs as they could. Many couldn’t attend since there still was a war going on, even if we couldn’t find the remaining vampires. The leeches had done a very good job of going to ground in the wake of the attack on the Hall. All of the lycanthropes were dressed in formal black robes. At the oaken podium stood the Lady- Apparent, Elizabeth Vollen. The Spiritmaster stood in his place with the hierarchy of the Order. The shaman looked unnervingly serene. Matric, Nick, and Hangman stood with the Guildmaster at the left hand of the podium. I had expected to see Sneller and Deadeye, but it didn’t surprise me that they weren’t there. Every hunter was out searching for the remaining vampires, and Sneller and Deadeye would need to coordinate the search. Silanti and Razor had escaped from the Hall, and the Guildmaster wouldn’t be satisfied until he had their heads in his possession. I was led to the throne by a pair of serious-looking Red Knights who had refused to speak with me as we walked up the staircase from the dungeon and into the Manor. Like the rest of the lycanthrope, I stood in true form, but instead of the black robes I would have normally worn, I was forced to wear the white robes of the prisoner. White was the color of weakness and dishonor.

The room went deathly silent as I entered. Most of the lycanthropes that crowded the Manor gave me hateful glares. I ignored them the best that I could, focusing instead on the friendly and sympathetic faces of Hangman and Nick. Matric looked uneasy, like he was a rat on a sinking ship. That made me feel a little better, but the realization was, that unless some form of miracle occurred, I was going to be executed by the end of the night. The guards, fortunately, had honored some of my requests, because they knew that I was a condemned lycanthrope, even though I was just reaching my “trial.” This included the small radio that patched me into their guard frequency – just in case Nick had planned something against my wishes – and one of my small silver knives. They assumed the knife was so that I could kill myself rather than let Smythe do it. It was one of the many misconceptions that the general lycanthrope populace held about hunters. We didn’t practice honorable suicide. It just loses the Guild a trained operative. Still, it added to our mystique, so we didn’t really disabuse the rest of lycanthrope society about it. Since I was going to die, I was going to make sure that I took Smythe with me. He was a fucking traitor, and I was going to be damned if he walked out of this alive.

I walked down the middle of the Manor, stopping about ten feet before the black square of the Vollens. Robert and Sarah Vollen, the two young children looked at me with a murderous gleam in their eyes. They weren’t alone, as most of the Knights looked at me the same way. The Lady-Apparent might have doubts of my complicity, but her surviving siblings had none. Smythe looked smug from his post at the right hand of the podium. I grinned back at him as my hand brushed against the silver knife concealed at my side.

Rhiazen was a rite that had developed in the early days of our society. Essentially, it was bringing a problem between pack member and the pack leader to the lord. However, it evolved to mean that anyone could claim rhiazen and be granted a hearing in front of the lord. However, there were some problems with the rite. One, the lord set the terms of the hearing, meaning the defense may not get a chance to fairly present its side, or even present it at all if the lord feels that the facts are conclusive. The second problem is that, in order to avoid giving the lord a long stream of civil disputes to preside over, the only penalty allowed is death. Even if the crime was vandalism, the guilty must receive the death penalty. It sounds harsh, but it was supposed to be. The aristocracy was there to preside over lycanthrope matters, not the silly civil matters that occurred as we hid amongst the humans. As I’ve said before, the lycanthropes live in a brutal and unforgiving world.

I took my place in front of the throne, and waited as the Lady-Apparent looked down at me. Something about her gaze disturbed me. I waited patiently for her to set the terms for the rhiazen. Essentially, she would let the pack leaders know how much evidence and how much testimony she would allow before she made her decision. There were no hard and fast rules, each rhiazen was unique, and there was no concept of precedent in the lycanthrope society. We trusted in our aristocracy to deal justly with us. There were remedies if the aristocracy failed that trust, but those weren’t things I wanted to contemplate at the moment.

“The terms for rhiazen will be as follows,” the Lady-Apparent began, “First the Red Knights will tell of us the death of Lords Vollen and the provide evidence as to how Marcus Phoenix Badmoon is responsible. Badmoon, or one who will speak for him, will have the time to defend him. I will hear from Badmoon before I make my decision.” There was some murmur in the crowd. The Lady-Apparent had given me very lenient terms, certainly more lenient than some lords would have given under the circumstances. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Matric smiling. Nick and Hangman still looked solemn. They knew better. The Lady-Apparent would not be able to leave me alive and still control the packs. She might allow me time to present my side, just to get out what I told her before into the public arena, but that was it. For some reason, a feeling of gratitude welled up inside of me.

A Red Knight came forward and stood about ten feet to my right. “I am known as David Long-Knife. I am honored to present the story for the Red Knights. This one, this Badmoon is the lycanthrope most responsible for the death of the Second Lord Vollen. He was there that night, and could have stopped the lord’s death, but he didn’t…” He continued to throw venom my way, twisting the truth beyond all recognition. It was a diatribe designed to provoke me into fatal action. It might have worked, but something else had my attention. I had been half-listening on the frequency that the guards were using. It was an old habit that I had never tried to break. The group at the front gate had dropped off the radio net about five minutes before, and now the contingent that went out to check them had just failed to report in. The Knights at the front door were discussing the problem over the radio.

“Roof One, this is Guard One,” the leader of the guards at the front door called to the leader of the Knights manning the half-floor on the top of the Manor, “I’m going to tighten things here and move Door One and his boys up the driveway. I don’t think it was leeches, but there is no good reason for them to drop off the net like that.”

“Confirm Guard One,” answered Roof One, “Do you want me to send down some people?” There was a pause, then a silence. I looked over to Smythe, who should have also been monitoring the action on the security net. He was paying attention to Long-Knife, watching as his plan for my death unfolded.

“Door One,” called Roof One, “Where the hell is Guard One?” There came no answer. Something had taken out everything in front of the Manor. I checked the two guards at the back of the Manor, who had tossed aside their deskunas, and unslung the sub-machine guns they had concealed under their black robes. Smythe was hailed over the net by Roof One, but he was too busy listening to Long-Knife. Long-Knife, who also had the radio in his ear stopped in mid-sentence. The Lady-Apparent looked down at him, but he and I were trading looks that were asking the same question. What the hell was going on?

“I hope that there is a good reason that the two of you are looking at each other and holding up the rhiazen,” the Lady-Apparent said from her podium, obviously annoyed at the two of us. I motioned for Long- Knife to tell her, since Smythe obviously wasn’t able to do it. As he began talking to the Lady-Apparent, I turned to Nicky and Hangman.

“Gun,” I requested in a calm voice. A holstered pistol and spare magazine holder sailed through the air to my waiting hands. Then everything went to hell. First, all the Knights drew their weapons on me, and the Lady-Apparent was surrounded by a ball of translucent blue energy. Two shaman began projecting their forces on me. However, their powers never reached me. They stopped a good five feet before stopping, as if they were hitting some invisible barrier in front of me. In any other time, I would have stopped to reason out why, but there was no time. I could see Smythe leading the Lady-Apparent, still surrounded in energy, into the coronation room, with the Spiritmaster and a large following of his shaman in tow. Red Knights in black robes and Steyr TMPs stood in front of the door. The Guild members all had their pistols out. I wrapped the holster straps around my bare thigh and pulled the pistol out, smiling at the black gun. It was my Heckler & Koch USP Tactical. I glanced at Nicky, who just gave me a knowing smile. Maybe he thought I would change my mind, but for whatever the reason, the black gun was a comforting weight in my hand. Out of long-ingrained habit, I ejected the magazine. Full of Silver Shoks. I pulled back the slide and heard the comforting sound of the first round being chambered. Armed, I braced as we awaited the force that was sieging our Manor.

The Manor room shook as a low boom rocked through. The massive entrance doors of the Manor were thrown into the room with a thunderous roar. The two Knights never had a chance to get out of the way. The pack leaders screamed at their warriors, each trying to get their forces into position. The Guildmaster didn’t bother. He knew that his hunters would already know what to do. A cloud of dark gray smoke and dust obscured the entrance to the Manor. I couldn’t see who was attacking us. Anxiety and fear fell away as the prospect of action made my body dump all of its adrenaline into me. I could feel as my body prepared itself for battle. With deliberate action, I raised my pistol and braced for the attack. Then, I heard the opposition cry over the din of the Manor. “FIRST SPEAR ATTACK! SECOND SPEAR FOLLOW! SECOND SHIELD HOLD!“

Ancestors, I swore to myself, Fucking witch-hunters. There are witch-hunters in the Manor. The anxiety swarmed back through me as the cloud in the front of the Manor dispersed with an almost dramatic speed. I glanced back at the Guildmaster, who returned my fearful look with one that confirmed my fears. I quickly turned my attention on the intruders. This was going to be no fun at all. Humans in dark clothing and skull masks, armed with an uneven mixture of pistols, shotguns, and rifles came pouring into the Manor. The pack leaders screamed battle cries and threw their packs against the invaders. I wanted to scream at them to stop and just hold their ground. The packs were unarmed except for their preternatural strength and the sharp claws on their hands. They didn’t understand what they were facing. They were taught about witch-hunters, but the pack warriors didn’t understand the deadly truths of the witch-hunters. The witch-hunters were invulnerable to physical attacks by our kind. You could knock them around all day with punches and kicks – even hit them across the room with the preternatural strength of a lycanthrope in true form -, but they would still get back up and attack you with that nasty single-mindedness of purpose. The damned humans were also invulnerable to the magicks of the shaman. The witch-hunters were only vulnerable to edged weapons and bullets, and they cheated by using Kevlar vests. They also were as trained as hunters in unarmed combat and were more zealous than any ghoul. The first packs into the fray were torn apart as they tried to use their claws on the witch-hunters.

I checked my side. Nicky was standing beside me with his giant Smith in one hand, and a Desert Eagle .50 in his other. Nicky was one of the few pistoleers I knew of that could actually do the two-handed pistol fighting with something approaching effectiveness. I didn’t bother. Hangman, Kimber .45 in hand, was standing near Matric, who also had his Beretta out, and the Guildmaster, who stood waiting for the attack with his Colt .45. I threw off my prisoner robes and waited for the melee to come into our range.

The first group of witch-hunters had made it past the slaughtering of the packs and came to our part of the Manor. The shamans, on the other side of the room, were desperately using their magicks, finding out the hard way about the witch-hunters invulnerability. Bright beams of energy just faded before they could hit the zealous humans. One of the shaman quickly figured out what was happening, and began mystically picking up strew items and hurling them at the witch-hunters. My prejudices aside, the shaman weren’t all fucking stupid or useless. One of the witch-hunters coming after the hunters pointed a rifle at me. I dropped him quickly with a single shot to the head. I could hear the roar of the Desert Eagle as Nicky rapidly fired the big gun into a small tangle of witch-hunters. They all fell down from the hits of the big auto pistol, but not all of them were dead. I leapt over Nicky, drawing the small silver knife as I came down. Covering myself with sporadic gunfire, I finished the downed witch-hunters with savage slashes. Another came out of a blind spot and caught me with a punch to the stomach, winding me.

He loomed over me, as I was busy scampering for breath. The witch-hunter’s head exploded into a red cloud. Long-Knife, pistol in hand, stepped over the fallen body and helped me up. The Red Knight’s face held no traces of suspicion or hatred. Fighting with a hated common enemy tended to do that.

“You okay?” he asked. Wordlessly, I put a double- tap into the witch-hunter coming up behind him with a wicked looking silver knife. As Long-Knife turned to see what I was firing at, he seemed satisfied with that answer and braced for the next melee. I did a quick scan and saw that the two of us were far too forward. We needed to get back to the others. I pulled on his robe sleeve and pointed. He just nodded before killing a witch-hunter with a shotgun.

The two of us fought our way back to the Guildmaster and the other hunters. As soon as we came into view, the Guildmaster tossed me a TMP from a fallen Knight. Nick also held one.

“You two, cut us a path to that section over there.” I looked to where he was pointing, and saw a blank space of wall. Normally, I would have at least given the Guildmaster a questioning look. During the furious fighting, I didn’t even bother. I found a small opening in the melee and widened it with a pair of bursts. As the bodies fell, our small group dashed into the thick of the fighting. We slowly crossed the open floor of the Manor. It was strewn with lycanthrope and witch-hunter bodies. The white marble tile was slightly slick with blood and gore. I kept myself from noticing by killing as many witch- hunters as I could. Nicky, who was behind me, was placing short bursts all on my flanks. A witch-hunter fired a burst at us, throwing me to the floor as I dodged. Long-Knife, however, caught the burst full in the chest. He crumpled down, almost cut in half by the bullets. I put a small burst into the witch-hunter’s head, watching as it made a satisfactory explosion. I scampered up off the floor, emptying the TMP into a group of witch-hunters that had noticed our little group. I threw the empty machine pistol into the head of another witch-hunter, knocking the bastard of its feet. As soon as the sub-machine gun left my hands, I instinctively drew my USP and flicked off the safety.

I took the point and resumed our way to the section of wall that the Guildmaster had pointed out. The witch-hunters that came at us were quickly killed. Most of the witch-hunters were busy swarming the dwindling packs. The warriors had figured out that they weren’t having any effect with their claws and had picked up guns from the dead witch-hunters. Even with the weapons, the warriors were having a hard time of it. Our group got to the wall, covering the Guildmaster as he touched one of the bricks. A small door opened in the wall. I saw a dark hallway beyond the concealed door.

“We’re fucking running?” Hangman asked incredulously. He was reloading his Kimber as he was searching for more targets. Hangman had held up his end of the firefight, but he couldn’t see exactly how desperate our situation actually was.

“We are running low on ammo, and Marcus has already taken a gunshot wound,” said the Guildmaster. I looked down, and saw a small hole in my leg that was leaking blood. “This door leads back to the Manor’s armory, where we can get some heavier weapons. I already called the Guild, and all the hunters in Hillsborough are coming. The first group should be here in about five minutes. We, however, need to get armed and patched.” He turned to me. “Marcus, are you alright?”

“Yeah,” I answered, feeling the pain of the wound for the first time, “I’ll live.” My leg was starting to throb as the pain began to overcome the pain suppression of the adrenaline. I thought my leg wasn’t moving as fast as it should, but I didn’t have time to figure out what had happened. I was too busy killing witch-hunters.

“Good. Nicholas lead off. Samuel, then Dennis. Marcus, you and I will bring up the rear. I want you to cover me as I shut the door behind us.” I nodded and hit the magazine release on my pistol. I looked down at the clip in my hand and grimaced. Two rounds left, plus the one in the chamber. I would have to place my shots carefully. Nicky, Hangman, and Matric scampered down the darkened corridor. I turned out to the Manor. The Guildmaster went into the corridor. A witch-hunter aimed a rifle at the Guildmaster. I fired once into his head and he fell down. Another came at us with a shotgun. Another head-shot threw him down onto the stained marble. A third appeared out of the melee of witch-hunters and the remnants of the packs. I fired into his head again, avoiding the Kevlar vest I knew was there. He fell down to the floor as the slide on my pistol locked back on the empty magazine. I was pulled into the corridor by the Guildmaster as the door slid down shut behind us.

The corridor was dark, using the lycanthropes supernatural vision as a safety precaution against invaders. It twisted and rose until it reached another concealed door, which the Guildmaster opened for us. We spilled out into the armory, nearly getting shot by the two guards that were stationed there. The Guildmaster quickly defused the situation before our two parties began firing. He talked to the guards as they tried to grasp a hold of the situation. While he did this, Hangman began to rummage through the weapons in the armory for useful guns. Nicky took a long look at my leg wound. Up until we had reached the armory, the wound had throbbed, but nothing I couldn’t ignore. Now, it burned with a familiar sensation. The bullet had been silver, or at least enough silver to prevent my normal healing abilities from working. Nicky probed at the small, bloody hole in my thigh with his claw. I grimaced slightly at the pain, letting my breath out as Nicky removed his claw from the hole.

“It went clean through. I’m going to flush it with some medicine, and that should help restore some of your healing. This may hurt a bit,” he warned, spilling an amber liquid on the wound. Fire flashed through my body, but quickly subsided. Nicky wrapped a cloth bandage around my leg and looked at it skeptically.

“I can walk,” I said, getting to my feet, “It just hurts a bit.” Nicky’s face darkened, but I ignored his concern. There were more important things to do. I walked over to Hangman, who was laying a bunch of firearms on the ground. Most of them were pistols and small sub-machine guns. The Guildmaster walked over to where we were standing with Matric trailing slightly behind.

“The guards have been in contact with the group protecting the Lady-Apparent. They are holed up in the coronation room. They’re holding on, but barely. The Knights throughout the building are regrouping for a massive push to recapture the Manor and the coronation room. However, I don’t think they will succeed. The witch-hunters have three full Shields committed to this operation and only the first has actually attacked us.” I was amazed at this. They had to have pulled every witch-hunter they had in Florida to attack us. But why had they decided on Hillsborough and not the rest of the state?

“Several of our hit packs, along with the shaman, have rallied nearby and are planning to attack the reserve Shields. The pups that were in tysach have been moved to Pinellas to the Guild there. We are going to rescue the Lady-Apparent, then kill every witch-hunter in the Manor.” We accepted this quietly. The Guildmaster explained his plan, and we nodded at the end. There were no questions. It was a simple enough plan. Arm and armor ourselves, walk back down the corridor, open the door and throw concussion grenades, then fight our way to the coronation room. Then it was a matter of grabbing the Lady-Apparent and fighting our way back to the corridor, which would be guarded by the two guards that the Guildmaster had recruited. After she was safe, the Guildmaster would let us go back and play.

After we had been briefed, we began to load up. Our bare bodies were covered by light jumpsuits and Kevlar vests. Radios were placed and checked. The others began to load up on the heavy weapons. I reloaded my USP and found a couple of spare magazines for it. I grabbed a Colt M4 carbine. It was nice, compact, and the rifle bullets would go through most bullet-proof vests. Satisfied I had a primary and backup weapon, I grabbed a few concussion grenades. I didn’t want fragments flying around – especially since our frag grenades tended to fling silver shards around – and the concussion grenades would open up enough space to work in. I was placing spare magazines on me when I saw Nicky pick up another M4. Hangman had found an HK G36K, which was another compact 5.56 mm assault rifle. It was okay, but I preferred variants of the M16, like my Commando, and the M4 I was holding. Matric and the Guildmaster had foregone the assault rifles and were wielding Benelli semi-auto shotguns. I was mildly surprised by my boss’s choice in long guns, but it was the guards that truly shocked me.

The two guards hauled out a small cart with a General Electric Minigun in 5.56 mm mounted on it. I was surprised that the Red Knights even had one of them, but then remembered that the gun defending the half-floor at the top of the Manor was a GE Minigun in 7.62 mm. This was probably the back-up. The taller one actually pushed the cart, while his partner pushed a second cart that held the massive amount of ammunition needed to feed the Minigun. It was a hungry beast of a weapon. Both guards also carried TMPs for back-up. Suitably armed, we planned what our group would do once we managed to make it back to the Manor.

Our group moved back up the corridor in silence. The hunters knew what they were doing, and the guards were too scared to say anything. I didn’t care if they were terrified of going up against the witch-hunters as long as they did their part – and did it right. As the door neared, Nick and I pulled the concussion grenades we were carrying out and crept over to where the door would open. The Guildmaster opened the door just a crack, and the darkness pierced by a narrow beam of light. Nick and I pulled the pins on our grenades and rolled them out into the Manor. We both silently counted down the three second fuses on the grenades.

WHUMP!! We half-heard, half-felt the muffled explosions that launched us into action. The Guildmaster swung the door open and stepped to the side. I slid out along the marble floor, letting loose short bursts at the first five witch-hunters I saw. Okay, sliding was not considered a proper entry technique, but I wanted to make damn sure I was under all of the gunfire that was crossing the Manor. I heard Nicky open up with his M4 behind me. I scampered up to my feet, shooting another two as I came up. The spent magazine clattered to the floor as I slapped a fresh one into the waiting receiver. Nick came up on my right, cutting three witch-hunters down with accurate bursts. Hangman came up on my left, similarly taking down witch-hunters with odd sounding bursts of fire. I heard the Guildmaster and Matric follow up behind. I half-worried that Matric wouldn’t be able to keep up with us during the firefight, but I had to admit, he had done well so far just by surviving. Once we had formed up about fifteen feet from where the door was, the Guildmaster ordered us to drop to the floor and signaled the guards. As we hit the blood-laced marble floor, the Red Knight guards let loose with the Minigun.

Unlike most machineguns, Minguns are rotary guns. The gun has six barrels which are formed into a circle and then spun by an electrical generator, during which they are loaded, fired, and then have the casings extracted. This type of firing cycle allows for a very high firing rate, usually in the two to four thousand rounds per minute range. It also makes a very unique noise when fired. Instead of the chattering sound that conventional machineguns make, a Minigun sounds like an amplified chainsaw. Bad thing was that it ate up so much ammunition so fast, we didn’t dare use silver ammunition in it. Just the volume of fire tended to suppress most of the bad things – such as vampires – until others with normal weapons could pick them off. The witch-hunters had no such protection from standard lead rounds. I watched as all the witch-hunters around us were thrown back and down as the Minigun made its deadly arcs. As the Minigun kept firing, the five of us began picking off individual witch-hunters. It seemed like it took five minutes for the minigun to eat through all of the bullets in the massive drum that had accompanied it, but the reality was that it took less than twenty seconds for the roaring chainsaw to dull down to the whine of the electric motor. No longer covered by the massive fire support of the minigun, our group launched ourselves off the floor and into the air. This brought a lot of fire on us, but the fire that the three of us with automatic weapons were laying down as we landed cut down most of those shooting. We landed about ten yards from the door to the coronation room. The Guildmaster and Matric began rapidly unloading double-ought buck at the witch-hunters, as Hangman, Nick, and I did quick changes on the magazines. We returned the favor as the three of us began placing bursts while the Guildmaster and Matric loaded shells. I gave Nick an evil grin and pulled out another concussion grenade. He nodded, mirroring my maliciousness.

The grenade landed about halfway between us and the door to the coronation room. The blast actually threw some of witch-hunters through the air, but most of them were just knocked down. The result was a small hole in the witch-hunters’ forces that they were throwing against the door. The Guildmaster and Matric darted through the hole as the rest of us covered them. Their weapons were far more lethal in close quarters than our carbines. The two reached the door after a couple of close calls, and went inside.

A large group of Red Knights, most of who looked like they had been hit, came out of the door, with their machine pistols blazing away. Nick, Hangman, and I dropped to the floor to avoid being cut in pieces. I was about to scream at the Guildmaster for not warning us, but then found out my earpiece on my radio had come unplugged. I cursed Murphy and his fucking law and plugged my earpiece back in.

“Marcus, are you there?” the Guildmaster asked.

“Yeah,” I answered, busily firing as the witch-hunters came near us.

“We’re coming out,” he reported, “I need you to meet us over here and help us cover the Lady- Apparent. Then–” The Guildmaster was cut off by a loud thunder clap. A new wave of witch-hunters ran through the Manor door, joining their brothers already in the crowded melee. What the fuck caused them to bring in reinforcements? The minigun? After a moment, though, I noticed that the new witch-hunters weren’t coming to reinforce the other witch-hunters – they were running from something. The wall that separated the Manor from the foyer collapsed. Blue-white lightning bolts streaked across the room, exploding tiles like fragmentation grenades, sending razor-sharp marble shards into the unsuspecting witch-hunters. The thunder that rolled through from the lightning was mixed with the new high-pitched crack of assault rifles as I saw the first of the lycanthrope counter-attack.

Sneller was visibly in the lead, shouting orders over the roar of the entry as hunters, shaman, and pack warriors swept down on the confused and panicked witch-hunters. We stayed on the marble floor, firing at the witch-hunters who were foolish enough to come within our reach. I lost complete track of time as the battle enveloped me. All I knew wat that the fight lasted another three reloads, before Ronin slashed the last witch- hunter with a long silver dagger. There was a deathly silence as I got up off the tile and looked around.

Most of the lycanthropes that had come to see my trial were dead, including nearly all of the pack leaders. Their bodies were strewn across the room along with the witch-hunters. Bullet pockmarks marred the walls and columns. The throne was destroyed, splintered in half by bullets. The Guildmaster led the group out of the coronation room, looking out across the room. He kept his face emotionless, but I knew he what he was thinking. He walked over to me and didn’t say anything, which in itself spoke volumes.

Sneller walked over to us, a long slash on his muzzle. “We wanted to warn you, but there wasn’t enough time. A group of the more experienced shaman joined us and I decided to counterattack.” The Guildmaster nodded absently as he drew himself up. He told Sneller to gather his forces and secure the perimeter, and the then he walked over to the Lady-Apparent. She had sat down where the last of her family, her younger brother and sister, had been sitting, both of whom were now dead. Her two younger siblings had been caught in the crossfire and had taken bursts of automatic fire across their torsos. I walked over with the Guildmaster towards her as she wept for her two dead siblings. Smythe was talking with a few of the surviving Red Knights and the few shaman that had come with Sneller were carrying out the bodies of the Spiritmaster and Yven, in addition to most of the entourage they had brought.

“Milady,” the Guildmaster said, quietly, “I’m afraid we have much work to do, and some of it requires your attention.” The Lady-Apparent cradled the body of her little sister in her arms, not even showing whether she had heard the Guildmaster or not. I knelt down beside her, laid my carbine on the ground, and put my hand on her shoulder. My heart was frozen with fear, but my instincts had taken over. The Lady-Apparent wasn’t thinking like a leader of the lycanthropes of her county. She was thinking like a big sister that had just seen the corpses of her two younger siblings. She needed to be guided back to her duties, or she would be lost. I don’t know how I knew, I just knew what I needed to do.

“Elizabeth,” I murmured to her, “She isn’t coming back. You have to leave her and help us, or all of the lycanthropes in Hillsborough are going to die.” She turned to look at me. Tears still streamed, but she got up. I rose to my feet with her, my arm protectively circling her shoulders. She continued to sob for a moment, but the tears stopped as she composed herself. My heart yearned for vengeance, and was frustrated by the fact that all the witch-hunters were dead. I was startled by the feelings, but comforted by her warmth against me.

“What needs to be done?” she asked the Guildmaster. She had regained her composure, but I could feel her still leaning into me.

“First, we need to gather the remainders of the packs and what’s left of both the Order and the Guild. We will also need the unaligned lycanthropes in Hillsborough. Second, once we have got everyone here, we need to reorganize to finish the war with the vampire. Also a detail needs to be made to gather all the lycanthrope bodies here and take them to the cravex for a mass Rite of the Dead.”

“Get the Order to handle that part. Preferably their senior member still alive. What about outside help, from the state organizations or from Pinellas and Pasco?” she asked. Her years of tutelage in leadership were coming to the forefront, suppressing her grief. It was much like when I pushed down all of my emotions to do a job. I loosened my arm over her shoulders, allowing her to stand on her own. It was difficult, but I knew it was necessary. Again, the instinct was guiding me as to what to do, because Ancestors knew I had no fucking clue in the cognitive part of my mind.

“I don’t think that they will be able to help,” the Guildmaster explained, “I believe that the state organizations may be pulling themselves in for a possible statewide war, and the other counties are too busy playing politics to see who will come out on top of the war council. The Pinellas Guild will guard our pups, and will accept anyone we send over there, but I doubt that Lady Thames will allow anything else.”

“NO!” screamed a voice behind the Guildmaster. He turned and allowed me to see a battered Smythe emerging from his group of Red Knights. His eyes held a maddened glint in them, and his fingers twitched around the TMP he was holding at his side. “The first thing we must do is kill the hunter. He helped kill Stephen and Jason Vollen, and he must pay for this.” The machine pistol jerked up and pointed at me. I began planning the moves I would need to reach my carbine and place a burst into the bastard dog’s chest.

“I didn’t kill them, Smythe,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm I attempted to slide my arm off of Elizabeth’s shoulders, but she tucked in closer to me, “I tried to stop Stephen’s killer, but he was better than me. I would have stopped Silanti from killing Jason, but you attacked me.” His eyes went wild, and a burst erupted from the gun. I could hear the bullets whistling past my ear. Then I felt Elizabeth grip me. At that moment, I lost my confidence, and a new fear set in. It was a deeper fear than any that I had felt before, because it wasn’t for me, but for her. That idiot would probably kill her if he didn’t control that fucking TMP. I tried to get her behind me, but she just wouldn’t do it.

“You’re lying, you bastard dog,” he said wildly, “You were in league with the killers. I knew you wouldn’t have shot Silanti. You had planned to deliver the lord to him in advance. I know all about you hunters. At least, though, I could have killed you.” The barrel bobbed up and down, as he staggered towards us. My arm was trying to reach the USP in the small of my back, but I couldn’t quite find it. I heard him laughing maniacally. Then the thunder boomed.

I felt no pain, but watched the barrel of the TMP drop down. I looked beyond the gun at Smythe and saw his side had been blown out. He wobbled on his feet, a look of sheer surprise on his face. Another thunder boom and he was thrown to the side. I looked over to where Smythe had been shot from and saw Nicky standing with his big Smith and Wesson pointed at the ceiling. He quietly replaced the revolver in the holster and looked over to where the Red Knights were gawking at their fallen leader.

“Does anyone else question my friend’s integrity or innocence?” he asked in a deathly calm and quiet tone. The lot of them unconsciously backed up, shrinking from the evil look on his face. It was almost as if Death himself had possessed Nick. I squeezed Elizabeth protectively until my mind reassured me that my friend was still there. The Manor again rang with silence.

The Lady-Apparent released me and strode over to the Guildmaster. It shook me how quickly she left, and I was confused even more by the strange look she shot me over her shoulder. I was hurt, slightly, that she didn’t seem to need me anymore as she and the Guildmaster talked over plans for war. I was going to walk over to her, but a hand came on my shoulder. My reflexes took hold and my hand darted for my pistol. Nicky stayed calm as I realized who it was and let my arm fall back down. He gave me a warm look, almost like an older brother giving his acceptance to his sibling.

“Wipe that pained expression off your face Ranger,” he said, “She loves you.” I turned on him as an unusual anger gripped me.

“What the fuck do you mean?” I asked quickly, too quickly. Nicky just grinned and shook his head. He grabbed my arm and half-pulled me to where Sneller had gathered the hunters that had survived the attack. I tried resisting a little, but Nick was probably as strong as me, and I wasn’t all that determined.

“That look she gave you was transparent,” he said, “I realize that this is probably your first time experiencing some of the more refined emotions, having to be the ultimate hunter and all, but trust me on this. She does love you, and that explains a lot of her actions up to now. However, she, like us, has a lot of work to do, and everything else has got to be put away until later. Come on, I think Sneller got a job for us.”

Chapter 11

There’s A Dark Cloud For Every Silver Lining

“It’s nice to see that you managed to almost get yourself killed,” the Guildmaster growled as I walked into his office. I had been rushed into emergency surgery as soon as Nick had returned us to the Guild. A lot of that had been hunters scrubbing out the remains of silver that contaminated my wounds and then letting my body take over before it shut down. From what Nick had told me when I woke up, it had been a close thing. I could feel that my body was still putting itself back together, but I was more or less operational. The Guildmaster’s expression told me he wasn’t happy that I had gone out with Nick, and even less pleased that I had managed to almost get myself killed. I kept my face neutral and sat down in my normal chair.

“What the hell were the witch-hunters doing in West Tampa?” I asked, completely ignoring the Guildmaster’s chiding remark. He growled a bit, but picked up a manila folder off of his increasingly crowded desk. The anger drained from his face to be replaced by an almost worried expression. The expression disturbed me. I knew that as the Guildmaster’s personal hitter, I was one of the few hunters that the Guildmaster could be totally honest and open with. It was one of the reasons that the personal hitter was usually a close friend of the Guildmaster. Still, it was disconcerting to see my leader look like he didn’t know what to do.

“I don’t know,” the Guildmaster exhaled, “Neither does our intel section or the lord’s intel section. Ronin told me a few weeks ago that he was getting information from the feral dogs in the county that there were more witch-hunters than normal. I dismissed it at the time. Half of the time – well, you know how I feel about it.” I nodded in silent agreement. Ronin, the deputy commander of the hit packs, knew many of the packs of feral and stray dogs that roamed the streets of Tampa and the back areas of the county. They were useful sometimes, but most of the information that they managed to give us was so vague as to be useless. Ronin still put his faith in his animal informants. In my experience, the strays were about as useful as retarded two-year-olds.

“You want me to investigate?” I asked, trying to shake my boss out of his momentarily melancholy. I knew that the Guildmaster tended to internally beat himself up when he made a mistake. Sometimes that was good, and sometimes it was just useless.

“No,” the Guildmaster answered, visibly shaking himself out of internal reflections, “You’re good at a lot of things Marcus, but this kind of investigation is not one of those. I’ll have Baser send one of the intel boys out to see what is going on. I need some hard data. Matric informed me before you came in that the lord’s intelligence section considered the presence of the Sword to be an anomaly rather than a trend indicator.”

“What the fuck? They’re ignoring it? Maybe I should go down there and talk to them myself,” I said, my anger leaking into my voice. The Guildmaster gave a brief chuckle, but shook his head.

“There’s something going on over at the Manor,” the Guildmaster told me, “Something that they haven’t told me. I have a nasty suspicion that the lord is planning something to take advantage of the aftermath of the Sun City battle.” He turned his attention to another folder on his desk. “At any rate, I have another job for you. It’s something simple and easy.” His eye held a mischievous glint that I knew didn’t bode well for me.

“CEASE FIRE, GODDAMNIT!” I yelled at the lycanthropes on the firing line. I grabbed the closest lycanthrope, and snatched the assault rifle out of his hands, “What part of cease fire did you not fucking understand?” The warrior’s face was a mixture of anger and fear. I shoved him away as our altercation finally drew enough attention from the others that they ceased firing. I took a few deep breaths before beginning again. It also took me a moment to get all of my plans to kill my boss out of my head.

I will be the first to admit that my boss has a nasty sense of humor. Moreover, he has an even nastier sense of punishment. Hence, my current job. The Guildmaster still didn’t know what was being planned in the Manor, but he was fairly sure that the warriors of the packs would need to be prepared for some heavy fighting. So I had been sent to work with several warriors on the basics of marksmanship and fire discipline. Too many of the warriors did little more than spray and pray with fully automatic weapons, which wasted valuable silver ammunition. The idea was to get them used to properly using the weapons before giving them the silver ammunition that the Guild controlled. Good idea – until I actually saw the pack warriors using the few assault rifles and submachine guns on the shooting range the Guild had erected near County Line Road in the eastern part of the county.

“All of you, carefully place your weapons on the firing bench in front of you and take a step back,” I ordered. As the eight warriors followed my instructions, I walked out to the targets. As I suspected, most of them had a few holes that invariably rose to the right or left depending on what weapon the warrior was shooting. I just shook my head in annoyance. I warned each of them about the tendency of the weapon to rise in full auto fire. I reminded them to attempt to counteract the muzzle by leaning in to the weapon, and they had reliably completely forgotten that tidbit of information. I knew that I was beginning to really lose what little patience I had. A lack of patience was one of my character flaws that the Guildmaster had made me painfully aware of over the years I had worked with him. Sometimes, he liked to put me in positions where that flaw had to be overcome – or used as punishment, like now.

“All of you are here because you are supposed to be the best marksman of your packs,” I began with my teeth clenched and my normal rage held firmly in check, “I know that some of you have impressive war records, but this is fucking ridiculous.” The warriors had the decency to look ashamed at my comment. I walked the firing line, looking back between the atrocious firing cards and the warriors standing with slightly nervous looks on their faces. I needed to come up with a better way to train these warriors before the lord announced his plans. The biggest problem was me, and I knew it. I was not a trainer by temperament. I got easily annoyed when those under my tutelage didn’t progress as quickly as I thought that they should. Especially on things that I had already explained in detail – several times.

“Okay, let’s go over this again,” I told them, “Some of you are using various submachine guns. These things are called bullet hoses for a reason. They have an extremely high rate of fire. Even with a nine millimeter cartridge, these weapons produce an impressive amount of recoil, which causes the barrel to rise, which means that YOU MISS THE FUCKING TARGET! You will compensate for this by doing one of two things. You will either use short bursts of three to five rounds or you will learn to lean into the weapon to use your mass to help control the weapon. Preferably you will do both, but I’d be just as happy if you could do just one. This is even more important for you with rifles because they have a stronger recoil.”

“Most of these things have selections for burst fire,” one of the warriors said with an almost snide manner. I really wanted to hit him. “Why aren’t we just putting them on burst fire and training with that?” The warriors around him nodded with an enthusiasm that I chalked up to not wanting to be further embarrassed by their poor performance.

“Oh, I’m making you do this the hard way for my own entertainment, am I?” I replied with a sarcastic tone, “I have no ulterior objective, such as making sure that you will survive with one of these things. I’m not making sure that you can hit when you need to spray a large group or just attack a single subject.” I would have continued berating them, but they were saved by the ringing of my cell phone. I looked at the phone number flashing on the display. The Guildmaster. It was a simple text message. RTB. Return to base. The lord had announced his plan.

When I returned to the Guild, it looked deserted. Usually there were about twenty or so hunters at the Guild at all times. Mainly these were our intel, medical, communications, and armorers, along with some hunters waiting for targets of opportunity or for rapid rescue of warriors or shaman that had managed to get themselves into a nasty position. As I entered, I only saw Baser and another hunter in the intelligence area. I walked over to Baser. He looked up with a start as I came up to his desk.

“Shit, I didn’t see you come in Ranger,” he said with surprise in his voice.

“How the fuck could you miss me?” I asked in reply, “Where the hell is everyone?”

“Oh, that,” Baser said, and he took a moment to look around, “Well, Sneller and Deadeye have been sending everyone out to their advance points. I’m getting swamped with intel requests on a whole bunch of sites.” He turned to his computer and suddenly stopped in mid-motion. “Oh yeah, the Guildmaster said he wanted to see you as soon as you came in.” Without further ado, Baser went back to his work. I walked to the Guildmaster’s office without another word. The advance points were positions around the county where hunters could group before launching a major job. With almost all of the hunters at their advance points, the Guild was about to conduct a series of simultaneous jobs. The lord was planning something massive. Massive usually meant complex, and that meant that something was bound to get fucked up, which meant that someone, probably a hunter, would end up dead. Hunters were firm believers in keeping jobs as simple as possible. Less chance of something fucking up and one of us dead.

I walked into the Guildmaster’s inner office. I was surprised to see his wife standing next to him. She was dressed in tactical gear with a worried expression on her face. Something was very wrong if she had decided to get back into the hunting game. She acknowledged me with a quick nod and then looked back to her husband. He didn’t look up at me, but held his hand in a silent command to wait quietly until he was done.

“Make sure that all of the packs are clear about their jobs,” the Guildmaster said to whomever he was conferencing on his computer, “This operation is so complex that a minor mistake could unfurl the whole thing. I’ll have Dennis coordinate with the Spiritmaster, but you need to hold things down until I get there.” Finally he looked up at me.

“The lord wants a quick finish to this war,” the Guildmaster said as I approached, “I think the Spiritmaster, or one of his Red Knights got it into his head that he can attack the TCV Hall and eliminate the entire council. I pleaded with him to reconsider, but he’s young, stubborn, and has had victories under his belt. The operation will commence in under twenty-four hours. It will be a nighttime - nighttime – raid on the TCV Hall. The Knights and pack warriors will lead a straight siege, with the lord leading them in. I’m sure that the Knights tried to keep him from doing that, but, like I said earlier, he’s a stubborn one. The hunters and shaman will provide surgical support. You will go in with the main siege and try to keep the lord alive. Take whatever you need. There will be a few hunters also going in on the siege, as well as a few shaman, but the plan that the lord has formulated has the bulk of the Guild acting in diversionary operations, preparing for mop-up operations and to strike any targets of opportunity. I’ve been ordered to oversee those operations. Since I can’t go with Lord Vollen, I need to send my personal hitter. Your primary objective is to protect the lord, although I suspect that the Knights will have a good deal of their own people around him. Your secondary is to locate whoever is the new Bleeder leader and kill him. I may not approve of this plan, but I will be damned if I don’t do my best to try and make it a success.”

I nodded to all of it. Sometimes even I knew better than to just make a flippant comment. This was going to be a brutal battle, and I was going to need all the time I could get to prepare for it. Lord Vollen was acting rashly. It was going to take a small miracle to keep most of the siege force alive. I smoldered over the apparent lack of concern that the lord had for his warriors. I was tempted to go over to the Manor and beat the hell out of him, but that idea passed as the practical concerns of the job came up. I needed to gather equipment, memorize all the available information the Guild had on the Council House and the Inner Councilmembers, and somehow try to grab a few hours sleep.

I returned to my room, sighing as I flipped on the light switch. I looked longingly at the bed, but I knew that if I was going to survive the assault on the Hall, I had a great deal of work to do. I stripped out of my clothing, letting it scatter across the floor. I sat down in the chair facing my computer. After booting up, I researched the files concerning the TCV Hall. The building plans were sparse on useful information, and even that little bit was outdated. The TCV Hall was actually built by a Northerner human that had come to Tampa in the late 1890’s. He liked the warm climate and built an expansive mansion next to the bay. When the vampire infestation became virulent in the 1920’s, the elder members went along with the organization of a new council rather than the older coven system that the vampires used throughout their history. The original council chair found the TCV Hall “quaint” and had his ghouls take the place over. It wasn’t hard, because the current owner of the house had overspent himself on illegal booze, and was willing to trade the house for getting the gangsters off his back. It was also about this time that the vampires in Florida began their long association with the criminal element of the state. There had been several renovations to make the building more secure for the vampires that resided within its walls, but the external structure had changed very little. The building was split into three wings. The right wing held offices for the council members and their ghouls. Actual plans were not available and the composite sketches from a few hunters and other lycanthropes that had gotten in and out of the TCV Hall were skimpy at best. The central part of the building, however, was well-known. This was where the vampires hosted official events – such as entertaining a Turaki peacekeeper – and also where the Inner Council met. The large double front doors opened into a central foyer dominated by a horseshoe shaped staircase that led up to the second floor. On the first floor, behind the foyer, was a ballroom that held most of the leeches’ social events, including the one or two that lycanthropes were invited. Connected to the ballroom was a kitchen with a walk-in cooler and freezer. It was assumed by most the Guild’s leadership that at least five to twenty humans were stored in the cooler for feasts. The second floor of the central part was the Council Room. It had no known specifications. It could be set up any way they desired, from modern to Gothic. From what Bradon told me about meetings of Inner Council, the décor changed almost from month to month depending on what was in fashion at the time. This worried me, as I hate hitting a place with no knowledge of where anything was. It was a good way to give the leeches your pelt. So far, this seemed to be the main objective of this job.

What really concerned me was the left wing. There was almost no information on that side of the building at all. Rumor was that the Inner Council had their quarters in that part of the building, but other information also had the left wing as the headquarters for the alchemists. The Guild had never been able to insert any of its hunters into the Hall to gather the proper intelligence. Anytime a hunter went to the Hall, they were closely escorted by a number of vampires, with at least one Bleeder in the contingent. My own personal suspicions were that the left wing could possibly be the headquarters of the Bleeders. The Bleeders pretty much vanished from the face of Tampa except to come out and cause a bit of mayhem. There were very few places in the county where a vampire could just disappear, and the Hall was on the top of the list. If I was going to sanction the new Bleeder leader, the left wing was where I would have to look. I concluded in my mind to make sure my weapon and gear loadout could help compensate for the lack of information. There was no weapon that could match good intelligence, but some of the better ones made life a little easier if a surprise popped up.

Technically, all of the vampires within the territory claimed by the TCV belonged to the Council. The ruling body of the TCV was called the Inner Council, but was often just called the Council. The Council was made up of five elder vampires, which made it a dangerous target all by itself. To make matters more fun, each member also had one to five ghouls with them at all times. Intelligence said that most of the ghouls had enough training to be dangerous. The political make-up of the Inner Council was evenly spread, with two activist Councilmembers, two conservative Councilmembers and a Council Chair that was usually a moderate, but tended to lean one way or the other as issues arose. The heads of the Bleeders and the alchemists usually participated in Council meetings and affairs, but were not considered as members of the Council. Each Councilmember selected his or her own replacement, almost guaranteeing that the political make-up never changed. The Council usually favored stability and consensus over all else.

The activist side was led by Councilmember Mario Silanti, a vampire of forty years. He despised the Peace and often took actions to weaken it. He hated lycanthropes with a passion and was considered a major threat by both the Hunters Guild and the Bleeders. That bit of information had come from Bradon. It was an open secret before the war erupted that if the hunters managed to assassinate Silanti, the Bleeders would work to ensure there were no repercussions. I made sure I knew his face, because I had decided early on, that if Silanti came within effective range of my weapons, he would become the primary target. All of our current intelligence on the Inner Council said that Silanti’s power was growing by leaps and bounds as long as the war raged in Hillsborough County – and I could see how the younger vampires of the council would support Silanti. If Silanti managed to gain de facto control of the Inner Council, the war would turn genocidal – and very likely bring in forces everyone wanted to keep far, far away from us. Silanti had two ghouls. One was a female that acted as his secretary and had no known combat training, but I suspected that she knew some tricks. The other was a male that kept Silanti tied to the human underworld. The ghoul had survived several years in the brutal drug trade before being “recruited” by Silanti. That made him dangerous, and definitely someone to watch.

The other activist was a vampire of eighty years by the name of Richard Crawford. Crawford was a known supporter of a faction in vampire society called “the Naturalists.” They advocated that there was room on the planet for only one predator of humans, and that the two races must fight until one – the lycanthropes according to Crawford and his supporters – was exterminated. The Peace prevented that natural competition and therefore, it must be struck down. However, unlike Silanti, Crawford only acted politically and never took the initiative in any ploy. Bradon told me that Crawford was more of a shadow player in the twisted politics of the TCV. He didn’t actually get involved in any of the ploys and plots, but Crawford pulled enough strings to get the ball rolling. Bradon called him a “useful danger.” Crawford had four ghouls – one to act as his personal assistant, one bodyguard, and two errand boys. All of them were known to be dangerous in both hand to hand combat and firearms.

The conservative side of the Inner Council was headed by the elder vampire Samuel Davis. He had over a hundred and thirty years experience as a vampire, more than forty years as a Councilmember. According to various reports, including Bradon’s own observations, Davis was thoroughly convinced that the lycanthrope were an enemy to be destroyed. However, Davis knew better than to let an unrestricted war erupt between the two races, lest it become like the War Between the States that he had fought in as a Confederate. So, he supported the Peace and nurtured the Bleeders, under his pupil, Philip Bradon. His ghouls, all three, came from military backgrounds. One acted as his bodyguard and assistant, while the other two often acted as his personal hit team. All of them had either been trained or actually had trained Bleeders. Nick had run afoul of them a couple of years previously, and he had told me that they were damned good for a pair of ghouls. I committed their faces to memory in case I ran into them. I was looking at enough surprises in this job to let the two ghouls get the drop on me.

Davis’s much younger ally was Harris Montgomery. A vampire of only twenty years (relatively young in vampire politics), Harris was an outstanding young politician. He had managed to secure his seat through posturing himself as an almost clone of his predecessor. As soon as Montgomery assumed his seat from the “retired” elder vampire, Montgomery showed his true colors. Montgomery was of a new political philosophy that decided that the war between the vampire and the lycanthrope was a futile effort, and that the two races must coexist. He was annoying and embarrassing to the Inner Council, but he represented the views of many of the younger vampires who grew up listening to the ramblings of humans from the counter-culture movement. As Bradon put it, it was an unfortunate case of the rare times that humanity affected our part of reality. Although his credibility had dropped with the war, Montgomery was still an able caudillo, or boss. He was actually one vampire I would work not to kill on this job. His two ghouls were unknowns. According to reports, they often acted as retro-hippie girls, dressing in the costumes and using the dialect of the culture.

The Council Chair was held by Josephine Razor, a vampire that seemed to have exploded onto the Tampa political scene. The Guild first took notice of her only about four years ago, but she used her political abilities and seductress demeanor to not only gain her place as a Councilmember, but to ascend to the Chair. She was known to be deadly, cunning, and beautiful. Her true politics were unknown, as she tended to bounce between the two factions, often playing one against the other to get what she wanted, but I had a nasty feeling about her agenda. She didn’t have any known ghouls, and that worried me even more. I doubted that she neglected to make herself a servant or four, so it was more than likely she kept her ghoul or ghouls out of sight, until they could help her. Unfortunately, there was no time to reconnaissance and try to find these shadow ghouls. Another matter of hoping equipment and luck overcome lack of intelligence.

I leaned back in my chair and yawned; I was exhausted from all this computer research. As I did, I saw the clock behind me and read the numbers upside-down. The translation slid slowly between my eyes and my brain. Then I noticed why I was tired, I had been doing this for the past six hours. I didn’t have time to be wasting sitting around a computer with little information that could help me. I exited out of the database and shut the computer down. As the cooling fan whined down, I picked up the phone and dialed the armory.

“Yeah, whadda ya want?” came Boomer’s voice over the line. I had expected Gunny, but I figured he was busier than hell trying to prep enough gear for the hunters.

“Ranger here, Boomer,” I answered in a business tone, “I’m going to be up there in a few minutes to grab weapons and gear. I hope the Guildmaster told you.”

“Yeah, he told us that you and the others on the raid had priority. But we were expecting you a couple of hours ago. Gunny kept some of your favorites, but I don’t know if we still have much to give you.”

“Where is Gunny?” I asked. It wasn’t like him to leave Boomer alone too long with a pile of weapons at his disposal. Odd things tended to happen to weapons left in Boomer’s care. Like accessories that no one had thought of adding suddenly appearing.

“He’s outfitting a couple of the hit packs before they run out of here. I’ll be here when you get your ass up here. What are you planning on?” he asked, casually.

“Tactical nukes would be nice, for all the surprises I suspect on this raid.” I heard Boomer politely chuckle at that comment. “I’ll see what you’ve got left when I get up there. Is ammo good?”

“Not as good as I would like. I can get your supply, but the Silver Shoks are getting shot up pretty damn fast. We were supposed to get a shipment of them today, but they didn’t come in. In a couple of days, we might have to switch to slug bullets, which I know you enjoy.” I grimaced at that. Modern silver bullets, like Silver Shoks, were designed and tested through the latest technology, making them more accurate and reliable. Silver Shoks were the best of that line, although there were a few other lines with comparable performance abilities. Those lines mostly catered to the mainstream lycanthrope, not to the Hunters Guild, and as such, were not as reliable. Silver slug bullets, on the other hand, were standard bullets cast from silver. While much easier to produce, they suffered from the discrepancy of weight between lead and silver and the fact that silver didn’t squish out well enough to take the rifling of the barrel. This led to bullets that had a nasty tendency to do what you didn’t want, such as drop or curve, depending on the weapon. The only exception was for shotguns where rifling didn’t mean a damn.

“Thanks, I’ll be finished here in about five minutes, and then I’ll be up. Hold everything until I get there.” I hung up the phone and put on a pair of jeans and a button-down shirt that was in my closet. As I walked to the door, I grabbed my USP in its holster and placed it in the small of my back. I clicked out the light and walked to the elevator. The hallway was empty, and so was the elevator. It worried me because the only reason for my having the elevator all to myself was that the Guild was emptying in preparation for the upcoming raid.

The elevator toned as I reached the second floor. It opened up and I felt better as I walked into the intelligence’s crazy sprinting around their section. At least I wasn’t the only one driven insane by this raid. I made my way through the lunging bodies of the intelligence section to the corridor that led to the armory. At the end of the corridor was a pair of twelve foot tall reinforced doors. As I approached, they silently slid open, ushering me into the armory.

The Guild armory was actually one large room. Sections of chain-linked fencing separated the different weapon types. I was shocked at how empty it actually was. Racks normally full of assault rifles and sub- machine guns lay naked across the floor. Boomer sat at one of the few tables in the room in human form, examining an assault rifle’s trigger assembly. He didn’t look up as I walked across the naked concrete floor towards him. I stopped five feet from him and waited for about half a minute for him to be finished with what he was doing. It passed and he continued to fiddle with the trigger assembly. As I was about to speak, Boomer said, “Hi, Ranger. Your favorites are over in Pad A-1.” Rather than bother him, I walked over to the pad.

The pads were sections of the armory fenced off and usually locked. They were mission specific loadouts, and were kept separate from the rest of the weaponry. I walked over to the pad and opened the gate door. The two benches were sparsely littered with rifles, sub-machine guns, pistols, and grenades. I picked up the first rifle, a Barret M1982A1 “Lite Fifty,” considering it briefly. With a .50 caliber (half-inch diameter) bullet, there was very little that I couldn’t punch big holes through. However, it was not the type of weapon I could bring to this kind of raid. It was too long and heavy, although my strength in true form would have negated the weight problem completely. At five feet long, though, it was just too much long gun for inside work, and those big rounds tended to over-penetrate in the close confines of a building.

I picked up the next weapon and grinned. The Bowmasters had thoughtfully left me a “Master-Key” weapon combination. The main weapon was the tried and true Colt M4 carbine, but the wonderful folks over at KAC had added something extra. It had started out as a Remington 870, but KAC had removed the stock, shortened the barrel, and added a Picatinny-rail on the top so that the shotgun quickly attached to the M4’s rail-interface. Just for fun, Boomer had mounted a rigid side saddle to the left side of the shotgun’s receiver for carrying an additional five shotgun shells. It was a bit muzzle heavy, but being able to use either 5.56 mm rounds or specialty shotgun loads without changing weapons was a big advantage. There was one modification that I had to do myself though. I quickly undid the screws on the side and took off the carrying handle from the top of the weapon. A nice reflex sight was quickly attached to the rail. The red dot sight was much better for close quarters than the standard iron sights, or even the ACOG combat scope.

After checking the actions the Master-Key, I put it aside and began selecting the rest of arsenal. I began rummaging through the submachine guns for something to add another punch to my routine. Although I normally prefer Heckler & Koch’s line of MP5 SMG’s to anything else, sometimes there are situations that they are just not suited for; namely, any time where they are not the primary weapon. I have found that small machine pistols and compact sub-machine guns much more suited for the secondary or back-up weapon. I settled on the Glock 18 machine pistol, mostly because it had a high rate of fire and it accepted the 17-round magazines from a Glock 17. When planning for the unexpected, I try not to give Murphy any chances, such as running out of one type of ammunition or magazine. For the same reason, I selected the tiny Glock 26 for my back-up pistol for the night. It would rest in my boot holster with its ten-round magazine. If I needed to reload it, the 26 would accept either the 17-round magazine from the Glock 17 or the giant 33-round magazine from the machine pistol. I wanted to bring my USP, but decided against it. In our style of combat, the usual argument of small bullet versus big bullet didn’t usually apply – the amount of silver thrown out did.

Custom-built silver throwing knives for quiet kills would be on my shoulders and my Emerson CQC-7 for cutting things other than vampires. The machine pistol would go into a thigh holster on my right leg with a conformal 17-round magazine loaded into it. Five of the big 33-round magazines would be strapped around the leg on the holster band for easy access. The Glock 17 auto pistol would be placed in the small of the back with four spare magazines next to it. The magazines for my M4 would hang on the front of my vest and in a couple of spare pouches on my right hip. Two speed loading tubes for the Master-Key would be placed in special holders on my back, so that I could grab them like swords. One was loaded with straight double-ought silver buckshot, while the other was loaded with a particularly nasty load of silver flechettes. Flechettes were tiny darts that did major damage to the target by perforating everything in its firing radius. They also had a nasty habit of being able to perforate bullet-proof vests. The side-saddle on the shotgun was loaded with Dragonsbreath rounds that launched a six foot flame from the gun. Great tool against creatures that was as flammable as dry kindling, but not so great on the gun. Gunny hated issuing them, but they had come in handy before. Flash-bangs were hung on my belt, as well as a small roll of duct tape. My final addition to my rig was electronics. Namely a Motorola walkie-talkie with throat-mike and earpiece.

With all of my equipment chosen, I went back to my quarters to rack out for a few hours. The sleep came and went way too fast. I was running too close, but I needed to run a few exercises before I joined up with the lord’s assault force. I spent the morning running through close-quarters drills with my loadout. I needed to be able to grab what I needed without looking, and I had too many unusual things in my loadout to do that without practicing. Another half-hour nap, and I geared up. For the record, carrying four guns, several knives, some flash-bangs, and a bunch of ammo was heavy. As I walked into the garage, I found Nick waiting on his motorcycle with a sly grin on his face.

“Alright, I give,” I said as I approached him, “What’s so fucking funny?”

“You, going to protect the lord. With that much gear, you could defend him from an army. At least, knowing the way you fight.” His grin slipped as I straddled my motorcycle. “Ranger, please be careful. I know that sounds strange, but I don’t like this.”

“You think I do?” I asked, as I placed the carbine into its saddle holster. I threw on a long duster to hide the rest of the hardware from casual view. Situated, I turned to Nick. “Thanks for the thought, Nicky. I’ll watch my ass.”

“Good. I don’t have many allies in this town. I don’t want one of my close ones dying foolishly. Ranger, one more thing,” he said, his tone so serious that it almost worried me, “My name is Nicholas.” Laughing, I kicked the bike to life and tore into the emerging night.

As I rode up to the meeting point, I noticed the sky. Perhaps I should have looked up earlier, but that was my own mistake. It was also mine for not reading the local newspapers for the past few days. The stars were dimmed by the Blood Moon. Although the lycanthropes know that it is called a lunar eclipse, as well as the scientific reasons for its occurrence, that does little to diminish the boost of morale and surge of energy we feel from it. This was the reason the lord decided to raid the Hall at night. Although that assured me that the lord was not a complete fool, the lack of intelligence on the Hall still gnawed at me. There were few weapons, short of thermo-baric bombs and nuclear devices, that overcame a lack of good intelligence, and even they occasionally suffered from it.

The meeting point was a commercial conversion van, in front of the massive Hall, with only its fifty yard lawn separating us from the front porch. The raised porch was antebellum fashioned with four white columns and guarded by at least five vampires. I was instructed to leave my motorcycle several blocks away, using the darkness to travel the rest of the distance. I reached the far side of the van, emblazoned with TECO’s logo on the side. Behind the van waited the lord and a group of Red Knights, including Smythe. I grimaced at him and made the proper gesture of respect to the lord. He allowed me to crowd into the back of the van, which was crammed with surveillance and communication gear. This should have been used days before to conduct reconnaissance, but instead, Lord Vollen rushed things.

I scanned the lawn and the front of the Hall through the low-light cameras that were installed into the side of the van. A pair of kin were standing outside, mimicking work for the power company. The lawn looked normal, and according to the van’s electromagnetic sensors, there were no land mines or other such devices placed. The stately white facade was normal, although I knew that surveillance gear was placed and being used. The front porch, raised off the ground by about three or four feet was guarded by five vampires that I could see. My instincts, however, said that there were more around. I mentally doubled the number of guards around the front perimeter. I really didn’t like this approach, Blood Moon or no. First off, there was no current information on the number or displacement of opposition on the grounds and in the Hall. Second, the environment was bad. The bay air, with its heavy marsh odor, muted our naturally keen sense of smell. The street lighting and the sparse lighting around the Hall made for strange shadows that would draw the untrained eye, like any pack warriors that were assigned to this job. Third, we were too exposed. I was sure that the leeches on the front porch knew who we were, and why we were there. If they didn’t than they were bait in an inviting trap.

“Is there a problem hunter?” said a voice behind me. I expected a Red Knight, but turned to find Lord Vollen facing me. I had always made it a point never to be intimidated by one’s station if something important needed to be said or done. Respectful maybe, but never intimidated. With this many Red Knights, several of whom partly blamed me for the previous lord’s death, I decided that respectful was the best course.

“May I speak candidly, milord?” I asked cautiously. He nodded slightly, so I continued, but firmly keeping my voice respectful and my speech devoid of its normal expletetives. “Sir, this is a bad idea. There is no current data on what our forces can expect upon entering the Hall. Our natural senses are being beaten back by the environment. We don’t even have a full floorplans for the Hall.” His face darkened slightly, but I decided to press on, hoping to avoid what could be a bloody fight that we could very well lose. “Milord, I suggest we postpone this attack until more information is available, or maybe if we cripple more of the TCV’s forces.”

Smythe looked about ready to read me the riot act, but the lord silenced him with a wave of his hand. “I am glad that I was right in asking for your services. You are probably correct from your standpoint. However, there are a few things you do not know. One, that all the hunters and shaman that have been left out of this raid are now conducting an extensive series of attacks on known leech strongholds and covens. This should provide the Council with enough distraction to cover our initial attack. Second, the power to the Hall will be cut fifteen seconds into the attack. I realize that the Hall more than likely has secondary generators, but the switch will give us a few seconds time to advance further. Third, our mission is simply to get in and plant these.” He handed me a thermite block demolition charge. It was similar to the one that I had carried on the night that Skiff had been killed, but it was larger and could affect a larger area. They were also tamper-proof, meaning that once they were set, any attempt to disarm or reset them caused the charge to detonate. Some of the doubts about the raid were being alleviated. So, the purpose of the raid wasn’t to go in and personally kill every member of the Council, but rather set the Hall on fire and make sure none escaped. There was still the problem of getting in, and I mentioned this to Lord Vollen.

“Upon the signal from the Guildmaster that all diversionary objectives have been engaged, snipers from our position and the other positions will take out the sentries. The doors will be taken care of by our anti-armor rifle.” The Red Knight that had been speaking motioned to a kin assembling a Barrett Lite Fifty, just like one that I had been looking at back at the armory. I would have preferred a hunter doing all the sniper work, but as Deadeye once told me, “You can’t have everything, and sometimes, anything.” The Red Knight continued to explain the plan. Once the door had been taken care of, the first group of our position would secure the foyer. They would place their charges, but not setting them. From there, the second group would leapfrog them onto the second floor, while the third group would hit the first floor. Essentially it continued along the same idea. First ones in would plant their charges, and then cover the next group. It sounded good, but I didn’t like it. One, it spread our forces awfully thin as we drove deeper into the building. It also didn’t allow for a reserve force, unless you counted the snipers, who wouldn’t be able to hit anything that wasn’t standing next to a window. I was to be part of the second group, along with the lord, Smythe and about another half-dozen Red Knights.

The other lycanthropes at the meeting point began going over their gear one last time as the Red Knight finished explaining the plan to me. I did the same, but my feeling of dread was deepening. This plan was coming dangerously close to drawing in the Pathwalkers. I could see why the Guildmaster hadn’t been happy with what was happening. He probably had told Lord Vollen about the risk, and from what I had seen of the lord earlier, Lord Vollen had probably dismissed his Guildmaster’s concerns out of hand. My weapons were loaded and chambered. I scanned the target area. My instincts were roaring with warnings, enough to make me want to just leave the area. With some difficulty, I shoved all of it to the back of my mind and focused on the job. My instincts have always been inordinately strong, with the downside being that sometimes they threatened to take over. Part of my hunter training had been to hone them so that they were useful while being able to shut them out when they threatened the job. Now was the hardest part of my job, waiting for the initiation. Finally, the Guildmaster came on.

“Gaspirilla,” was all he said, but it launched the primary group into action. Five muffled shots sounded from the roof of the van, and the vampires guarding the front porch slumped down almost simultaneously. As the vampires fell, the first group ran across the lawn. The first group was made up of warriors with only a couple of Red Knights to give them any kind of sound tactical support. As the group galloped across the lawn, I saw the lights of their weapons searching for targets. I winced as I watched their tactical formation. It was too loose, too uncoordinated. The warriors had no clue how to scan for targets and were mimicking what they had seen on television or on movies. It may have looked cool, but it would be trouble if they ran into any real targets.

The first group ran under a pair of large trees, making it halfway across the lawn with no complications. I was kind of surprised, but tried not to show it to the other lycanthropes waiting for their turn to enter the job. Under the shadows of the trees, the first group paused and scanned the front before making the final stretch. Without warning, about ten vampires fell out of the trees, shedding their bat form for their hideous true form. Damn, the marsh air hadn’t let me smell the bastards out. I didn’t wait for the Knights to say anything. I brought my rifle to my shoulder, watching as the red dot crossed the chest of the largest vampire. A gentle squeeze sent a short burst of three rounds into the leech. He jerked back as the rounds slammed into his chest, then crumpled to the grass. A couple of Knights next to me also fired, bringing down another two leeches. The ambushed group rallied and let short bursts of automatic fire loose. The whole encounter lasted less than thirty seconds, but it resulted in one of the Red Knights and a pack warrior dead. However, there was no time for grieving or even sympathy. The bodies were left with those of the vampires. We could always retrieve them with after the raid.

As the first group reached the door, three distinctive rifle shots rang out. The hinges on the large front door exploded as the big half-inch heavy bullets from the Barrett slammed through the reinforced oak door. The door-kicker for the first group, a largish Knight, shouldered the door, using his momentum to carry him all the way inside. I couldn’t make out what was going on inside, but the sound of the firefight explained it. A half-minute later, the second group – including me – was sent into the fray. As we crossed the lawn, I kept my weapon ready in case of another ambush. We crossed the lawn and made it up the porch without trouble. The gunfire from inside the foyer had slackened considerably, which meant either the first group had been successful, or they had been wiped out. I looked over at Smythe. From the look on his face, he had already reached the same conclusion that I had, and he wasn’t happy about it. He pointed to two Knights and motioned them inside while the rest of us waited outside. A double-click on the radio told us that it was clear and we entered the TCV Hall.

When my group entered, the first group had already cleared the foyer and set their charges. Vampire bodies, some still shifting to true form in their death, littered the floor. Gunfire from the other teams that had entered the other places in the Hall could be clearly heard over our own muted firefight. There was no time to sort everything out, so Smythe and another Red Knight began running up the left-hand staircase to the second floor. A pair of vampires emerged from the Council Room onto the landing. I brought them both down with a couple shots of the Master-Key. I may not have liked Smythe, but I was still a professional, which meant I covered his ass when he needed it.

The rest of the group advanced at a breakneck pace as soon as Smythe and his partner cleared the landing at the top of the stairs. The door into the Council Room stood about ten feet high and seemed solid enough. One of the Knights produced a shotgun from his web gear, which I assumed was loaded with door breakers. I grasped him by the arm and quickly sketched out an idea. He would break the door down, then fall to the floor. I would then fire a Dragonsbreath round over him as the door fell in, hopefully catching any leech laying in ambush for him. He nodded.

His shotgun boomed three times, destroying the door hinges and the lock, as I pumped the action on my shotgun, releasing the chambered shell. The door fell in as I loaded one of the Dragonsbreath rounds and chambered it. A quick squeeze on the trigger sent a jet of flame out of the shotgun barrel, catching two leeches standing behind the door in its blast. The two leeches brilliantly ignited, screaming as their burning forms consumed themselves. Smythe didn’t pause to enjoy the view, charging in with his assault rifle chattering. His Knights and the lord followed his lead and charged into the Council Room. I grimaced and then moved into the room like I had been trained, in a running crouch.

I found some cover and then rose to a crouch and surveyed the layout. The gallery of the Council Room was two rows of long wooden pews, one of which I was crouched behind. At the end of the gallery, toward the front of the room was a low wooden barricade with a thin gate. Five feet beyond that was a podium and an adjoining table. Then the Council’s platform was about fifteen feet behind that, a long raised barricade that the councilmembers stood behind for their meetings. The Red Knights were sprawled along the pews, several of them dead or dying from hits from the leeches hiding behind the podium, the tables, or the platform. I placed a few bursts at white faces that peeked out from their positions.

I looked for Lord Vollen. He was crouched behind a pew several yards in front of me, another Knight beside him. I could see several of the Council’s ghouls approaching them, so I fired several blasts of double-ought buck at them. The ghouls were thrown back by the volley of silver balls that laced the air. The vampires behind the platform responded by firing several bursts at me, which threw me back down behind cover. I hadn’t seen Smythe, so I tried to call for him over the radio. I hoped that he would put any of our hatreds aside long enough for us to get out of this alive. Two attempts netted no response. I figured he was either dead, or too busy to answer me.

I cautiously raised my head over the pew and looked over to the lord. He was replacing the magazine in his rifle, the Knight at his side slumped over dead. We were pinned down and being slaughtered. I heard some of the Knights firing at the vampires, some actually catching them. Radio reports came over that reported the deaths of Davis, Crawford, and Montgomery. That left Razor and Silanti. As I scanned the platform, I saw Silanti firing a small machine pistol at the lord’s position.

A lycanthrope crashed down next to me. A quick glance revealed that it was Smythe. His rifle was gone, and he had his pistol drawn. “Smythe, cover me. I’m going to take out Silanti,” I said to him, loud enough to be heard over the crashing gunfire. I rose from my crouch, flipping the M4’s selector switch from AUTO to SEMI. I lined the red dot up on Silanti’s face. He was exchanging gunfire with the lord, and never noticed me aiming at him. Beside me, I heard Smythe firing away with his pistol. I began to squeeze the trigger as a sharp pain came into my side. The pain forced me to jerk upward, sending the bullet into the ceiling. I fell to the floor as Smythe knocked me down. My rifle clattered to the floor and then was pushed out of my reach.

“Now you die,” he growled, holding a bloody silver knife over me. I was fully confused as hell. What was Smythe doing? I looked for the glint of madness in his eyes, but only saw the coldness of contemplated murder. I began to realize why I had been requested for this job. Smythe wanted to kill me in the chaos of the raid, but I didn’t know why.

A yell of pain from the lord’s position, however, made him jump off of me. Smythe looked over to where the lord was, his face a mixture of shock, fear, and pain. I pulled my pistol out and placed five rounds into Smythe’s chest. The bullets slammed into him and threw him back from me. I staggered up, and looked over to where I had seen Silanti. I saw him running for a small door behind the platform. I fired several times at him with my pistol, but he disappeared through the door. I looked down to my bloody side and cursed the pain for screwing up my aim. I looked over to where the lord was. His head was a mess of blood, bone, and gore, hit full force by a burst of silver rounds.

A force slammed into my face, throwing me a good five feet before crashing into the pew across from the one I had been crouching behind. I tried to shake off the daze, but the force hit again, this time deep into my stomach. Smythe continued to hit me, striking all my vital parts. My pistol had been knocked from my hand, and none of my other weapons were within reach. He hit me several more times and I crumpled to the ground. My side burned and the rest of my body ached from the hits that Smythe had landed. I knew that I couldn’t withstand Smythe’s hits much longer, and there was little chance of me gaining enough time and strength to fight back.

He stopped once I fell to the ground. Out of my slitted eyes, I saw him motion to a pair of his subordinates, who then picked me up off the ground by my shoulders. I played unconscious as they dragged my body out of the council room onto the landing. I could smell the blood, burnt flesh, and death of a harsh battle. I felt the two begin to drag me down one of the staircases. I summoned all the strength I had left in me and pushed off one of the stairs. The two Knights were caught off guard and forgot to hold on; they had been expecting a unconscious subject, not a real threat. I managed to land on the ground below without losing my balance. A quick scan of the area showed that I was badly outnumbered, at least a dozen Knights plus another dozen or so pack warriors that would believe anything Smythe and his cronies said because they were Red Knights. I ran for the door, pulling my tiny Glock 26 from its holster on the inside of my ankle. The fools hadn’t even taken it away from me.

Two Knights braced for close-quarters combat as I ran towards them. One drew a knife, as the other stepped back, trying to pull a pistol out of its holster. They looked nervous, and I could smell the fear emanating from them. I placed a few rounds just over their heads, sending them crashing to the floor to avoid it. I leapt over them, bullets from the pack warriors following me outside the Hall. As I rolled on the grass, I grabbed my radio from its holding place on my back. I finished my roll into a crouch behind one of the trees in the front lawn and switched it to the Guild’s frequency. “Ranger, Knightfall. Repeat – Ranger, Knightfall.” I could see several Knights coming out of the Hall, led by Smythe. There were all angry and armed. I had my back-up pistol and several magazines worth of ammunition. However, I didn’t feel like killing my own people, even if they had tried to kill me. If it was just Smythe, then maybe, but not with the other Knights around.

I stepped out into the lighted area, dropping my machine pistol on the ground. I slowly raised my arms up as a dozen weapons were aimed at me. “I call for rhiazen. I demand trial by the lord and his court.” I could see Smythe glaring at me. However, there was nothing he could do. Once a lycanthrope demands rhiazen, no one is allowed to hurt or kill him. However, if the lord disagrees with him, and finds him guilty, the sentence is automatically death, even if the original offense wouldn’t call for a death penalty.

I needed to buy time to bring information to the Guild. They needed to know that Smythe had tried to kill me. They needed to know that Silanti escaped. They needed to know how the lord had died. Then, they could do something about it. I was sure that the new lord – lady, actually, since the next Vollen with claim was his eldest daughter – was going to find me guilty. Better, however, to delay my inevitable demise long enough to get all the pertinent information to the Guild, and prepare them for what was to come. Perhaps Nicky or Hangman might even avenge me. These thoughts comforted me as the Knights came over to me and stripped my down to my bare pelt. I didn’t resist. I had called for rhiazen, so I was obligated by honor and law to not resist arrest and confinement, as my captors were obligated to assure that I was unharmed. They led me to my motorcycle. Two Knights in a sedan drove up next to me. They watched as I started my engine. The two Knights were keeping confident looks on their faces, but I could tell by the way they were holding their weapons on me belied their worry. I just shook my head. The Guildmaster called me twice on the radio in my helmet, but I ignored him. The Knights pulled in front of me and led me to the Manor, carefully navigating the streets of Tampa to avoid any chance of me meeting with one of the hunter groups that was out. I was to be held at the Manor, deep in its holding area, which would have been called a dungeon in ancient times.

The three of us drove up to the Manor’s gate. There, three warriors dressed in black robes with silver runes met us. These were serving as the lord’s marshals, his personal police. They were only deputized when the need arose, primarily when a lycanthrope called for rhiazen. I quietly stepped off my motorcycle and walked slowly towards them. I stopped the required distance, about two yards, and waited for their instructions.

“Hold your arms in front of you,” the taller one demanded, his voice as calm as a lake on a windless day. I felt a measure of relief. Whoever these three were, the leader was acting professionally and by the laws of the lycanthrope. I slowly put my arms out in front of me. The one next to him applied wolfsbane to the slash on my side as the youngest one came towards me. He placed a restraining device on my wrists. It was made of silver, and encompassed both wrists completely. They were joined by a thick metal bar that kept my hands separated by about a foot. I had been taught how to pick them, and had escaped from them before, but I was under obligation not to. If I escaped – and there was no way that the five lycanthropes around me could have stopped me if I was determined – I would be declared outlaw and subject to death on sight. That also went for any lycanthrope that gave me sanctuary – I could not return to the Guild without endangering the rest of the hunters. It would defeat the whole reason I had called for rhiazen. So, I meekly accepted the restrainers and followed three marshals as they led me across the Manor’s grounds into the Manor itself.

Just inside the door, we were met by another pair of lycanthropes in the same black robes that the other marshals wore. However, they were carrying M16’s and seemed ready to use them. Obviously, they didn’t trust me to carry out my part of the law. I wasn’t going to do anything, but I kept a wary eye on them as the marshals led me to a concealed door in the foyer. I had a nasty suspicion that one surprise move and the two would hose me with silver bullets. The unlit staircase winded down deep into the ground. It opened into a large room, with several empty holding cells constructed of iron bars, lined with silver barbs. I was led to the first one. The door slid open and I walked in. The marshal who had put the restrainers on me removed them. He stepped out of the cell and the door slid shut behind him. The group of marshals walked to the door. The two that had met me at the gate went up, while the two with the M16s took positions by the entranceway to the staircase. I grimaced at the company, but then studied my furnishings. I had a mat on the floor to serve as my bed. A small stand with a large basin for both my washing and to serve as my water reservoir. The bathroom was a hole in the ground. I stood there for a moment, then laid down on the mat. The cut on my side made it uncomfortable, but I was going to need all the energy I could get. I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the floor.

Chapter 10

I Miss A Big Battle

The border between Hillsborough and Pinellas counties was odd in that part of it ran in the middle of Tampa Bay. It made pursuits sometimes interesting, because the laws governing crossing into a neighboring county “uninvited” were very strict. Even amongst friendly counties, the penalties for the offending lycanthrope could be very harsh. Leeches, on the other hand, had no compunctions. Their council system was city-based, not county-based like that of the lycanthropes, and their power was a matter of what each council could grab and hold. So, even though the Pinellas Hunters Guild warned my Guildmaster that some TCV vamps had been “recruiting” in St. Petersburg across the bay, we could not go over and wipe out the “press gang.” Since Lady Thames had declared that Pinellas was neutral, she wouldn’t allow the fighting on her soil. From what I had been told, she had tried to stoke the Clearwater Council into attacking their rivals working in St. Pete, but the vampires had been unable to find their opponents. At least that was what they told Lady Thames. The Guildmaster of the Pinellas Chapter hadn’t been convinced, but had been unable to set his hunters on the interlopers. Thames was being strict on the neutrality issue.

The two Guildmasters conferenced on the problem, and I was dispatched to perform a slightly problematic job. Although I could have infiltrated Pinellas, found the leeches, and wiped them out, it would have been too bold of a job for Pinellas to overlook. Instead, it was decided that a limited incursion into Pinellas County that would be overlooked in order for me to do the actual takedown in Hillsborough. Real time intelligence would be fed to me from some Pinellas hunters. The mission was skirting the edges of Pinellas neutrality and would have some nasty repercussions if it was discovered exactly how much assistance the Pinellas Chapter was providing. Hence, the job was given to me. It was all part of being the Guildmaster’s personal hitter.

From what we learned from the Pinellas Guild – who was shadowing the press gang – the leeches were planning on leaving St. Petersburg by the interstate and crossing back into Hillsborough County on the Howard Franklin Bridge. So, I had to cross the bridge into Pinellas, turn around, and get back on the other span of the bridge – all without the permission of the Pinellas aristocracy. For the job, I needed to borrow a customized sedan. On the outside, it looked like a normal car. The customization was the installation of shooting ports on the windows and in the windshield as well as clips to hold weapons. The whole point of the car was to be able to accurately fire a weapon while the car was in motion. The weapon in question was a suppressed Colt M4 carbine.

The Howard Franklin was oddly peaceful. The orange sodium streetlights cast a dull pall over the concrete. The muscles in my neck tightened as the large rise of the hump of the bridge approached. Halfway up that hump, I would technically be in Pinellas County, and for the first time, I would be entering the county without an invitation. Going against the laws of our society wasn’t something that I did lightly. I made sure that I wasn’t doing anything that would bring unwarranted attention as the car crossed the invisible barrier that separated the counties. I relaxed for a brief moment – then flashing lights filled my rearview mirror. I didn’t panic, but my anxiety level was greatly heightened. I wasn’t speeding or changed lanes aggressively, so why was I being pulled over? It could be something as simple as a broken taillight that I hadn’t noticed when I took the car. The M4 was placed on the floor of the passenger side and covered with debris. The rigging could be explained, but it was going to be interesting to see if the police officer believed me. I slowed and pulled into the emergency lane. The police car pulled in behind me. I found the registration for the car and retrieved my license and insurance card from my wallet. Just as a precaution, I slipped my USP from its small of the back position to just under my leg. There was the possibility that the police officer behind me was a ghoul or a leech trying to assassinate me.

The police officer stepped out of his car, and I could see that he wasn’t a leech or a ghoul. I was glad that I wasn’t going to have a shootout on the Howard Franklin, but there was something about this that had my instincts screaming warnings. The police officer stepped up to my window.

“Good evening sir,” the police officer said with an almost bored tone, “May I have your license, registration, and insurance please?” I handed over the requested items, trying to keep the pistol concealed. The police officer inspected the documents for a brief moment before asking, “Do you know why I pulled you over?”

“Honestly, officer, I have no idea,” I answered, “As far as I could tell, I hadn’t done anything that would cause you to stop me.” The police officer gave me an almost predatory grin.

“Well, I guess I could pull you in for carting around full automatic weapons,” the police officer said, and my instincts began screaming furiously. “That wasn’t why I pulled you over, Mr. Ranger.” I tried to keep my face neutral amidst my mind racing. The only ones who called me Ranger were my fellow lycanthropes. There was no mention of it anywhere on any of the documents that I handed him. I wanted to go for my pistol, but my experience told me to stay calm. The police officer’s pistol was still holstered and lashed down, which told me that he wasn’t expecting trouble.

“I’m afraid I don’t know whom you’re talking about,” I said, keeping my voice calm and slightly confused, “My name is Marcus Smith. I don’t know a Mr. Ranger.” The smile on the police officer’s face widened.

“Okay, you can say that all you want, but we both know the truth,” the police officer answered, almost amused by my response, “Just to let you know, Lady Thames is aware of your infiltration of her county. Needless to say, she is not happy that her Guildmaster and your Guildmaster would come up with this plan. It would look very bad, especially considering her declaration of neutrality.” There was no point in playing the innocent any further. The police officer knew too many details for him to be just on the outside of our world. He wasn’t a kin, so it was very surprising that Lady Thames would use him.

“Are you warning me off?” I asked simply. I needed to find out exactly what was going on. Lady Thames would be fully justified in having me killed on the spot, but I strongly doubted she would have sent a human police officer to assassinate me. There was something more going on than I was aware of.

“Far from it,” the police officer answered, “Lady Thames was aware that her Guildmaster would assist yours for this kind of an operation. That said, you will never implicate her Guild or her involvement in this. If any other lord questions this operation, you will fully admit that you broke the law in coming here on your own volition – or under the orders of your Guildmaster. The lady doesn’t really care which story you go with. She won’t stop this, but she will not tolerate such shenanigans in her territory.” He handed me a paper that looked like a traffic ticket. On the paper was a phone number.

“The number is for the hunters tailing the vampires,” the police officer said, “Finish this quickly and do your damndest to make sure that none of the details of the operation ever leave the borders of the two counties.” Without another word, the police officer whirled back to his car. I didn’t waste time and rejoined traffic. I had lost time, and the phone number wasn’t necessary. The message that the police officer had given me disturbed me. Lady Thames had been acting truly strange since the beginning of the war, and there had to be more than what I was seeing on the face. Unfortunately, I had little time to deal with the aristocracy of Pinellas. I had to take out some leeches. I made sure that I filed the conversation in the back of my mind and made a point to talk privately with the Guildmaster about the whole thing.

The rest of the drive across the bridge was uneventful. I quickly exited on Ninth Street, did a quick u-turn, and drove back onto the bridge. As soon as the car crossed over the Hillsborough line, I pulled the car into the emergency lane on the bridge and waited for my prey to arrive. Normally, it was a bad idea to wait for a car to pass by at seventy miles an hour while you were stationary. The only thing I needed was to be ready to give chase when the leeches came by. I was supposed to wait until the leeches were well into Hillsborough County before I killed them. The bridge was only necessary as a means to locate the leeches and hunt them. If we had waited until the leeches were beyond the bridge, they could have gone to ground before we had their location fixed. My phone toned and a text message let me know that my prey was on its way to the bridge. A green minivan being followed by a silver muscle car. The Pinellas hunters had a thing for “old-school” muscle cars.

The cars flashed by me, and I flew into traffic. Horns fading in the distance told me that I had managed to cut off someone, but I really didn’t care. I needed to get to my prey before the end of the bridge. The car accelerated smoothly through the traffic as I slipped between the lanes. I might have problems if there were State Troopers out on the bridge, but I didn’t have much choice. There were a lot of cars from people coming home from their entertainment in Pinellas. I managed to come on the left side of the muscle car. We traded flashlight signals, and the muscle car backed off. They wouldn’t have any problems coming into Hillsborough. At least not from my side of the bay. The driver of the minivan didn’t seem to notice that he was being followed and continued sedately driving towards Tampa.

The hard part was following the minivan. I wanted to just pull up next to it and take it out, but that would have been too spectacular. I was going to have to be patient and wait for an opportunity to take down the minivan. We got off the bridge and continued down the interstate. I had expected the minivan to exit off on Westshore or even Dale Mabry, but it continued past downtown Tampa towards the infamous Malfunction Junction where I-275 met up with I-4. I wondered what the bloody hell these vampires were doing because they jumped onto I-4 and headed out to the east part of Hillsborough County. There was something odd happening, and it was making my instincts scream bloody murder. I decided it was important enough that the mission had to be changed. I hit the speed dial on my phone and waited for my boss to pick up.

“What is it Marcus?” the Guildmaster growled over the phone. He sounded annoyed, but I didn’t think it was at me in particular. The lycanthropes had been lowering the tempo of operations because of fears that the pathwalkers were going to intervene. All that meant was that the packs were attacking fewer and fewer targets while the hunters picked up the slack. I quickly related the situation to him. “So, bide your time and take them down. It’s not like you haven’t done this plenty of times.”

“That’s not it boss,” I replied, “Why are the leeches driving out to the east part of the county? Their strength is in Tampa. Out here, the lycanthropes can tear them apart and no one would notice. I got a feeling that something else is going on.”

“What?”

“If I knew that, I would’ve told you,” I answered sarcastically, “The only ones that I can see that might know something is the targets in front of me.”

“Can you secure them?” the Guildmaster asked. I looked into the minivan as best I could. From the heads bobbing in the windows, there were probably four leeches and at least that many recruits. The recruits wouldn’t be full vampires yet, but they could cause me more trouble than I would have liked to deal with on my own. I made a snap judgment.

“Negative boss,” I answered, “I need some assistance. Doesn’t matter who – with the glorious exception of Twisted Knife.” I heard the Guildmaster chuckle at the comment. He hadn’t said anything about my confrontation with Twisted Knife, but all that meant was that my performance didn’t warrant a reprimand. The Guildmaster was beyond stingy with his praise where I was concerned. As his personal hitter, the Guildmaster expected an extremely high level of professional aptitude from me. Sometimes I managed to go above it, but it was rare.

“I’ll see what I can dig up,” the Guildmaster informed me, “I may not be the one calling you back. Get this done quickly.” He disconnected without further words, and I watched the minivan. Either the leeches in the vehicle had absolutely no idea that they were being tailed or they were leading me into a very nasty trap. I half-hoped it was the trap. At least that would be a rational answer for the leeches’ irrational acts. My phone toned and I hit the receiver on the earpiece.

“Ranger.”

“This is Kyle Bloodscent,” said the soft voice into my ear, “I’ve got two vehicles coming up behind you with six warriors from Plant City. We’ve got your plate and description. We should be there in the next few minutes. What’s the plan?” I had to love modern technology. No need for long, drawn out conversations when all the information could be forwarded to a hand-held device like a phone or PDA.

“We need to snatch these bastards fast,” I replied, “You know this area better than I do. Suggestions on where to force them off the interstate?”

“As quickly as possible,” Kyle replied without humor, “We’ll force them into the next exit as soon as we catch up to you. Anywhere between here and the county line is good for us, but we can’t cross the county line.” Although Thames had declared Pinellas neutral, the other surrounding counties had more or less taken a containment approach. They provided intelligence and support to a certain degree, but they didn’t want the fighting spread into their own counties or to the vampires that they had to deal with. Hence, the strict bar against combatants entering other counties.

“Okay,” I replied and placed the M4 into the cradle on the passenger side of the car, “I’m going to burst into the car just before the next exit. I want you to exit and follow. I’ll head back around and join back up with you. We’ll find a nice place to do the take down. Remember, we need to capture these leeches, not kill them.” I saw flashing headlights in my rearview mirror. Kyle and his warriors had caught up to me and were ready. The problem was that capturing anyone, particularly leeches, is far more difficult than just killing them. I wished I had a hunter or even a shaman to assist me with the take down. Wishing didn’t make my situation change any, so I pulled up next to the minivan and prepared to force the minivan off the interstate. The M4 quietly stuttered and I heard the brass thump into the fabric covering the passenger seat. The rounds sparked off the body of the minivan, but the driver was clearly unhurt. That was fine, because the burst did exactly what I wanted it to do. It panicked the driver, sent the minivan off the interstate, and allowed for Kyle and his warriors to slip in behind them unnoticed.

Kyle kept me informed on the minivan as I worked my way back to his two cars. As I came up on the cars, we had past commercial buildings and come into a more rural part of the county. It was a good spot to do an interrogation. Even with Kyle’s warriors, there was little chance of me being able to get the leeches back to the Guild for a proper interrogation. So, I was going to have to perform an impromptu one with Kyle’s help. It was going to be nasty, and I really hoped that Kyle’s warriors would be up to the task. I asked the Guildmaster if there was another hunter available to assist. None were available because of some major job going on in Sun City.

“Kyle, we have to get the minivan off the road so that I can interrogate the leeches,” I said, “Have one of your cars pass the minivan so we can run a blocking maneuver.” I didn’t want to be too complex with the warriors because I had no idea how trained the warriors were in driving.

“I thought we were going to capture them so that you could take them back to the Guild or some other place,” Kyle said, sounding a bit confused.

“Not an option. No available proper transport,” I answered, a little annoyed that Kyle was questioning my orders. I needed to get this done and find out if my suspicions were correct. “Get your car going.” One of the cars raced in front of the minivan and continued on for about a hundred yards. Whoever was driving had good instincts on how to lay a road ambush. First and foremost, don’t let your mark suspect that he is about to get hit. The operation was relatively simple. The car in front would slow down until the minivan was within a car length. The warrior car to the rear would come up behind almost to the point of tailgating. When both cars were in position, I would race out from behind, come up next to the minivan. Once I was in a blocking position, all of the cars would slow down, and I would force the minivan to the side of the road. It should be a matter of simple crowding, but I was willing to use ramming or weapons fire in order to get it done. Once we had the minivan stopped, I told Kyle to have his warriors secure a perimeter and let me handle the most of the nasty work. I would need the help of some of his warriors in order to fully secure the vampires. If all of this was done with speed and ferocity, the vampires wouldn’t have time to react.

“I’m going,” I said, and floored the car. The sedan sped past the rear car and came up alongside the minivan. “All cars slow.” The three cars began to slow, and I could see the driver of the minivan realize what was happening. He was looking more and more panicked as the speed slacked off. I began crowding the minivan to the shoulder. The driver of the minivan seemed to be aware of what was happening. I pointed the carbine at his head, and the unspoken command was understood. He was talking rapidly to either the others in the minivan or on some sort of hands-free cell phone. If it was the former, it might make the takedown more interesting. Outside of the Bleeders, I hadn’t run into many vampires that knew how to fight. If the driver was talking on the phone, it could mean that reinforcements were on their way, or whatever operation was going on would be folded up quickly. All of it meant that my time was going to be extremely limited.

As soon as we stopped, the two lycanthropes in the front car were out with pistols drawn. They both screamed for the occupants of the minivan to slowly get out of the car with hands up. Obviously, the lycanthropes had watched far too many episodes of Cops. I didn’t bother correcting them. I just climbed out of the car with the M4 cradled in my hands. The leeches in the minivan didn’t look like they were moving, so I placed a burst into the rear of the vehicle. The doors were thrown open. There were four leeches in the van, and they were being followed by four humans that had obvious bite marks on their necks. The driver was tall, but average looking vampire with brown hair and eyes dressed in fashionable clothes with a dark blue pattern. He followed the instructions that the lycanthropes were shouting with a look of resignation and determination. The front passenger looked like he was in shock, his blue eyes wide at the barrels of the pistols of the warriors. I suspected that he was completely surprised by the “sudden appearance” of lycanthropes. The other two vampires were giving me extremely hostile looks. I took a closer look at those two because there was something there that bothered me. There was a strong hostility, but it wasn’t focused or refined. They were thugs. The driver was probably the leader of the operation and the front passenger was a deputy or some sort of lieutenant. These two were the important ones.

The bursts into the two thugs caught everyone off-guard. The lycanthrope warriors gave me shocked looks as the two thugs fell to the dirt of the shoulder. That was one of the problems with working with warriors. They weren’t trained to look for the same things that hunters were trained to look for in our enemies. I didn’t have time to explain things to the warriors. I needed to get the leader and his lieutenant away from the rest of the group, and the two thugs would have just caused trouble.

“I need you two to cover the humans,” I ordered, pointing at the two lycanthropes from the first car, “The rest of you will take these two leeches into the fields. I have questions for them.”

“Too late,” the driver said, “I’ve already warned them that we were being intercepted. By the time that you get any information from me, they’ll be long gone.” I could tell by his eyes that he was telling me the truth. The difference was that I didn’t need to know the location of whatever was going on. I just needed to know why they had seized the humans and took them across the bay and clear across Hillsborough County. I didn’t say anything. I just motioned for the two vampires to move away from the minivan and into the grassy field beyond the highway. The warriors roughly shoved the two vampires into moving as I sedately followed. I had a nasty feeling that the driver was anticipating me using harsh interrogation techniques against him. He was smart, resourceful, and dedicated. I was glad that he was going to be dead before this job was finished. Leeches like that were extremely dangerous. His lieutenant, on the other hand, seemed to be around just to help out. He may have some information, but I was willing to bet that it was very limited and may be slightly incorrect. Just enough to screw up any further investigation.

We walked maybe fifty feet from the cars when I motioned for the lycanthropes to halt. The two leeches were placed on their knees. I have found that putting even leeches into a submissive posture helped with interrogations. One of the intel boys tried to explain the psychological reasons for why it worked, but I really didn’t listen. All I needed to know was that it did work. The driver was still looking defiant, but his companion was frightened.

“Are there others coming to get you?” I asked quietly, focusing my attention on the driver.

“What, no threats?” he replied, just a little too glibly, “No. No one is coming to rescue me or my companion. We have been considered expended.” He settled down on his knees into the ground. He was preparing for a long session. I didn’t have the patience for a long session.

“Why did you take those humans from Pinellas?” I asked, still looking directly into the driver’s eyes. His eyes darted up to their left corner. He was about to lie to me. No time to play word games. The M4 was placed to the driver’s left arm and I placed a single silver round through the driver’s elbow. The screaming from the vampire filled the grassy field. “I can tell when you’re going to lie to me. Lying means that you aren’t going to be useful to me. If you aren’t useful, then you’re dead. I will take you one piece at a time to get what I want.” He looked me in the eyes, and I saw the true fear in them. Something about my visage had apparently shaken the driver’s confidence and bravado.

“We didn’t think that Hillsborough hunters would get involved in us snatching humans from Pinellas,” the driver answered, “If you weren’t involved, then you probably wouldn’t notice what we were doing.” Okay, I scared him, but he had enough wits about him to try and delay me as long as possible.

“Who is ‘we?’” I asked. What was going on was important, but the players behind this scheme would tell me the nature of the operation and the ultimate goal. Assuming, of course, that the driver knew who was his actual patron.

“A group of us deliver humans to some older vampires in Thonosassa,” the vampire answered, “We don’t know who or why. The Inner Council told us to do it, so we do it.” It was something that the Inner Council was involved with, and it involved lots of humans. In more peaceful times, I would almost wonder if they were stocking up for a party. Now, it had a more sinister tone to it.

“Where were you to deliver the humans?”

“Doesn’t matter,” the driver answered, “They’ll be long gone by the time that you could even hope to get there. Completely gone and no evidence to find them.” His delaying tactics were starting to annoy me.

“Where?” I repeated, with a slightly more demanding emphasis in the question. I tried to keep my annoyance out of my tone, but from the fear in the driver’s eyes, I wasn’t sure if I had succeeded.

“It’s on the GPS in the van,” the passenger answered, frantically, “I saw him input the destination right before we left St. Pete.” I looked over at the driver, and I could tell that the passenger was telling the truth. It is hard to fake the vitriolic look of unanticipated betrayal. I looked into the pleading eyes of the passenger. He was still clinging to the hope that I would let him go since he gave me the information that I wanted. It was pathetic, and he really should have known better. His people and mine were at war. There was no way that either of these was going to leave this field alive. Or as alive as a leech ever was.

“Kyle, would you have your pack secure the GPS and confirm?” I asked, still keeping my voice as neutral as possible. I knew that I was going to kill both of the leeches, but I wanted both of them to maintain some hope that I would release them in exchange for their cooperation. The minute that hope vanished, then the two vampires would become unpredictable. Most likely, they wouldn’t do anything, but they might decide they had nothing to lose and attack. I wasn’t worried that they would hurt or kill me, but I was more concerned with the warriors holding the vampires. Warriors were okay, but they rarely had the situational awareness that would warn them that something bad was about to happen.

Kyle was talking with his two warriors that were guarding the minivan via a small Bluetooth headset. He held his hand to his ear and listened for a moment. Kyle looked at me and slowly nodded. The GPS had been secured and the waypoints were accessible. Before the vampires could do anything, I placed a burst into each of the vampires. The warriors looked stunned as the bodies toppled to the ground. I didn’t have time to waste.

“Kyle, have your people kill the humans and destroy any evidence,” I ordered, walking back towards the minivan. Bitten humans could be rehabilitated, but it was a dicey endeavor. Even doing it right had a better than even chance of creating a witch-hunter. During peacetime, the lycanthropes rehabbed humans and turned them over to the wizards. With the war raging across the county, the wizards were having nothing to do with us and we just didn’t have the resources to perform the rehabilitation. So, it was necessary to kill the humans before they sought out another vampire to complete the conversion into a vampire or even possibly a ghoul. Neither of those was considered acceptable outcomes.

By the time I had reached the minivan, the two warriors were moving the bodies of the humans and the vampires into the minivan. I climbed into the driver’s seat and accessed the GPS. The drop-off point was a small office near the fairgrounds. It wasn’t going to be hard to get there, but I was concerned about what I would find. I copied the address into my phone and waited for Kyle to rejoin me at the road. I replaced the magazine in the M4 and decided to check in with the Guildmaster. He might have been able to scrounge up a hunter or two to assist me, but I strongly doubted it. Whatever was going in Sun City, it sounded like it was one hell of a firefight. I hated missing it, but I had my job.

“What is it Marcus?” growled the Guildmaster, “I’m a little busy coordinating things here.”

“Sorry to disturb you boss,” I answered, “All of the objectives here have been taken care of. I found the drop-off point for these humans, and the intelligence I got says that this is some major operation for the vampires. I was hoping that you would have some assistance for me.”

“To be perfectly blunt Marcus, your job is a side operation right now,” the Guildmaster replied, “We’ve managed to find one of the major coven sites for the TCV in Sun City and its taking all of the spare hunters just to provide enough support for the packs involved in seizing it. In fact, I want you back here as soon as possible because I may need to send you out there.” I scowled because I could tell from the Guildmaster’s tone that the fight was not going how he wanted. Probably a stalemate. Lycanthropes couldn’t afford a stalemate in a battle. Vampires always had the advantage of numbers. Lycanthropes were just better fighters on a one-on-one comparison.

“I have to check out this drop site boss, and then I’ll get my happy ass back to the Guild,” I told my boss, “I’ll see if I can whip up some support from the packs out here.” As I disconnected with the Guildmaster, I looked for Kyle. I would need to see if he could get me some more help. I wasn’t expecting trouble at the drop site. The driver was probably right that the vampires had packed up and melted away into the county, but I would have left a nasty surprise or two in their place. I always had to assume that my opponents were at least as nasty and as devious as me. I have found when I didn’t, the bastards proved me wrong. Barely escaping death looks really neat on movies and television, but in reality it was painful and exhausting. I avoided it whenever I possibly could.

The first thing I needed was intelligence. Thankfully, the humans always managed to provide technology that lycanthropes needed. I pulled out my phone and downloaded the satellite images for the address that the GPS indicated. The target was actually a barn or a large storage shed on a farm. According to the property records, the farm was owned by a small agribusiness firm based out of Tampa. Getting onto the property wasn’t going to be difficult. That much wide open space would be difficult to completely secure. The barn, on the other hand, was either a dead drop of some sort with no security or it was going to be completely secure, and I could expect a nasty fight. A building that large would hold a lot of nasty things. I was going to need some more help.

“Kyle, can you give me some more support?” I asked the warrior. He nodded without hesitation. “We need to get to this drop site. More than likely, it will be nothing. That said, there is a damned good chance that the leeches might have a trap waiting for us.”

“My fiancée belongs to a pack out that way,” Kyle said, looking at both the GPS and the satellite picture on my phone’s screen, “She can get some of her packmates out there with some weapons to help us out. What’s the chance that this is a trap?” There was an undercurrent of concern in his voice. I couldn’t blame him. Lycanthropes may have casual flings with humans or kin, but relationships between true lycanthropes are very serious matters. There are too many issues surrounding the relationships for them to be simple, casual affairs. It was less than a century ago when only arranged marriages were allowed between lycanthropes.

“Maybe four or five to one,” I answered, “I don’t know who was running the operation. If the Bleeders are the party responsible, then there will be a trap and it will be nasty. If it’s just an operation run by the Council, better than even that the operation is already folded up and disappeared.” I looked Kyle dead in the eye. “Bottom line, we’re going to have to assume that the bastards are ready and waiting to kill any lycanthrope that shows his or her face anywhere near that barn. Any lycanthrope that comes to this little party had better be ready to do exactly what I tell them, and be ready to fight hard. Can you do this?”

“I’ll make sure of it.”

The farm had absolutely no security around its perimeter. The farm itself was primarily raising cattle with some fields for growing of hay and sod. The barn was near to the cattle grazing fields, which meant it was flat and open. No real concealment, but we did have the dark. The twelve lycanthropes and I that were approaching the barn were spread out. I had them shed for true form before we began our incursion. Kyle had his five warriors on my left while his fiancée, Renee, had another five warriors on my right. Renee had brought a small mix of shotguns and hunting rifles. All of them seemed to have understood my instructions, but I was still a little worried about the Murphy factor on this job. The war had made the warriors more proficient, but they still weren’t at the level that I was comfortable. Still, a beggar can’t be too choosy about what he asks for.

As we approached the barn, I began scanning the outline of the barn and surrounding area. I was looking for anything out of the ordinary. Something that would make my instincts scream that we were creeping into an ambush. The nice thing about being a well-trained hunter is that you pick up some of the tell tale signs of a trap. Another is that being in true form negated the need for night-vision goggles. I motioned for the warriors to stop and crouch. Nothing about this barn seemed to indicate ambush, but my instincts were telling me different. Not the normal screaming warnings, but the kind that remind someone to look both ways before stepping off a street corner.

“Kyle,” I whispered, “I want all of you to slowly spread out and encircle the barn. Just hold at about forty yards or so. I’m going to go in and infiltrate the barn.”

“Are you sure that you don’t want a couple of us to go in with you?” Kyle asked, with a look of concern, “I know a couple of my boys that could do all right.” I shook my head. If a firefight broke out, I didn’t want lycanthropes that I hadn’t worked with before in the middle of it. I would have no idea of how they would react. At least if the warriors were coming in from the outside, I would have a better chance of managing the battle.

“If something goes down, I want your folks to close up the circle around the barn,” I told him, “I’ll let you know where I want you to enter. Do your best not to kill me.” Kyle smiled at the comment, but he understood the truth of the statement. The chaos of a firefight was intense, and a lot of the times warriors would fire at anything that moved that wasn’t on their side of the battle. Since I would already be in the thick of it, there would be a damned good chance of being caught in a crossfire. This would be what hunters like to refer to as a “bad thing.” Kyle moved back to give my instructions to the rest of the warriors as I crept forward.

The barn was actually a long single-story building that was actually more of a large garage and storage shed. It was used to hold the expensive tractors and numerous mechanical implements used on the modern farm. On the north face was a graded concrete slab that led up to two large doors where the tractors would enter and exit the barn. From oil and other fluids on the ramp, there had been more recent vehicles here. It was the first confirmation I had that this was actually the drop point for the vampires. The doors were closed and they had no windows to peek through, so I slowly moved to the east side of the building. On the east side of the barn was an access door and a well beaten path that led out to the farm’s main house some three hundred yards off. Another reason why I didn’t want the warriors involved if necessary. I had a suppressor for my weapon. They didn’t.

There weren’t any obvious security features on the access door beyond a basic dead bolt lock. I looked to see if the deadbolt had been thrown. I didn’t see the glimmer of brass in the slit between the door and the frame. The door was completely open. I slung the M4 and drew my USP. I wished I had brought up one of the warriors to help with the entry because I hated having to do covert entries on my own. It was difficult and I was vulnerable for far too long of a period for me to be comfortable. I pushed the door open and let it go through on its own inertia. I swiftly slipped through the door, and heard the chattering sound of a sub-machine gun opening up on me. I heard as bullets whipped around me and felt two rounds slam into my vest as I leapt for a pile of equipment. I didn’t have time to discern what the equipment was, I just needed the cover. A second sub-machine gun opened fire. Uzi, my mind rapidly concluded. There were very few sub-machine guns that had that uniquely high rate of fire. Riccochets filled the area around me as the two sub-machine guns were emptied. I holstered the pistol and brought up the M4. It was my turn.

Raising myself just over the farm equipment with carbine at the ready, I spied two ghouls reloading full size Uzis. I placed a burst into the left ghoul. He toppled over as the other ghoul ran for cover, still trying to reload his Uzi. I fired at the ghoul, only to see my bullets deflected by various bits of farm equipment. I crouched back down behind my cover. I listened and heard the ratcheting sound of the Uzi’s cocking handle being roughly yanked back. The ghoul was reloaded and ready to fire. I slipped to my left, looking for the ghoul. I didn’t see the creature, and I didn’t get any fire directed my way. I found new cover and listened again. I couldn’t hear the ghoul’s breathing, but I did hear the sound of his Uzi clanging against the tractor the ghoul was hiding behind. I judged the distance, and pulled out a flash-bang. I had learned my lesson and always carried the devices on my jobs. I pulled the pin and carefully arched the device behind the tractor.

The loud bang launched me towards the ghoul’s position. Flash-bangs gave me two to five seconds where my target was disoriented. After that, the target would start to regain his faculties. Most would be slow to regain their wits, but Bleeders and other trained individuals would recover far too fast for my liking. The ghoul had dropped his weapon and was stumbling. I didn’t waste time and placed a burst into the ghoul’s chest. I wanted to get information, but a ghoul wouldn’t betray its master. The only thing more zealous than a ghoul was a witch-hunter. My only hope for getting information would be to scour the two bodies as well as the barn and hope to come up with something useful. For this, I did want the help of the warriors. I called to Kyle and told him to get his warriors into the barn.

“What are we looking for?” Kyle asked as his warriors filed into the barn. He looked relieved that his group didn’t walk into the fire of the ghouls. I didn’t blame him at all. His warriors didn’t have vests or any other kind of protective gear. The two bullet-hoses could have chewed them up before the warriors managed to fire back.

“Anything that will tell us who was responsible for this drop,” I answered, “If it looks suspicious, grab it. I’d rather have to look through a bunch of stuff than miss an important piece of intel. Good work by the way.” Kyle looked at me with an obvious look of confusion.

“Good work? We didn’t do anything,” Kyle said, almost startled.

“Exactly. You did what I told you to do and didn’t risk your warriors coming in trying to rescue me,” I answered, “I’ve seen too many times when warriors try to intrude during a hunter job. Warriors tend to die.” I hoped my solemn tone conveyed the gravity of what I was trying to teach the warrior. He nodded, but I couldn’t read the expression on his face. The warriors watched the exchange in silence, and then quietly began searching the barn. I was impressed by their discipline, and I made a mental note to tell the Guildmaster. If possible, I wanted to get a hunter or two out here to do some more in-depth training. I had a suspicion that this group of warriors would take well to the training.

After half an hour of searching, we had found a lot of nothing. At least that’s how it seemed from my initial scan. I would turn over all of the stuff to the Guild’s intelligence section to see if they could make anything out of it. I doubted that they would have time with all of the other demands that the war had placed upon them. Still, they were very good at finding the needles in the haystacks that hunters threw on their desks. Good enough that it was worth taking five hunters out of the field just to do the intelligence analysis. I would also ask the Guildmaster if he wanted me to send copies to the Lord’s intel group. Not as good, but they weren’t as overworked as the Guild’s intel section. I collected all of the various pieces of paper, as well as the two Uzis and some of the spent brass, and loaded them into a sack that I had found in the barn. As I hoisted the sack, Kyle had already directed two of his warriors to pick up the ghoul bodies. I had already photographed them and sent the pictures to the Guild to see if we had their faces on file. Satisfied that we were clear, we quietly left the barn.

As we walked back to where our vehicles were waiting, I looked over one piece of paper that, for some reason, kept drawing my attention. One of the ghouls had it in his breast pocket. The paper had taken some bullet and blood damage, but the part that I could read led me to believe that it was instructions to the ghoul from his master. I couldn’t make out where the humans had been taken, but the ghouls were to send some papers and other materials that had been blotted out by blood to an address in Tampa. The address wasn’t complete, so I began trying to fill in the blanks and use my phone to determine where the ghouls might have been going. It didn’t seem right that the ghouls would have a hard copy unless it was something that they were unlikely to remember on their own. Ghouls weren’t mindless. They had the normal intelligence and reasoning capabilities of their former human selves, and the vampires didn’t choose idiots to be their servants. There had to be a reason that it was written down rather than committed to memory. As I played with various combinations of what the address could be, I kept coming up with destinations that were worthless. I knew it was important, but I was damned if I could figure it out on my own. I was going to need help.

I arrived at the Guild just as the rest of the hunters were coming back from their huge job down in Sun City. From what I gathered talking to my fellow hunters, the job had been a marginal success. The coven had been a major stronghold for the TCV outside of the Tampa city limits. Almost all of the packs in southern Hillsborough County had been committed to attacking and eliminating the coven. Doing so meant that the TCV would be cut off to the south, or at least that was the tactical thinking. The initial hunter support had been minimal because the Guild was simply stretched thin across the county and the pack leaders had grossly underestimated the strength of the vampires holding the coven. The pack leaders had also completely dismissed the idea that the TCV would have committed any of their Bleeders to the coven. Granted, the Bleeders were disorganized and had their numbers severely depleted. The Guild’s initial attacks on the Bleeders had been far more successful than even we had expected. That said, there was still a significant number of Bleeders still in the TCV, and the TCV was quickly learning how to properly employ their lycanthrope-fighters. Needless to say, the initial attack was less than successful. The Guildmaster pulled every hunter he could find and sent them down to Sun City to rescue the packs and to continue the attack. Apparently the shaman had also sent down a contingent. There were conflicting reports about whether or not Lord Vollen had joined the battle, but I doubted it. The Red Knights would have had fits if Lord Vollen had been within range of such a fierce battle. By the end of the battle, three hunters were dead and we had nearly twenty wounded, six of which were serious enough that they wouldn’t be able to perform jobs for some time. Things were going to have to change soon or simple attrition would destroy the Guild. We started the war with about a hundred active hunters. We had received maybe ten or so new hunters since the war started. We had lost over twenty hunters and had another twenty out of action. We couldn’t expect any more hunters for at least another year. It took a long time to train hunters and there were damned few lycanthropes that had what it took to become a hunter. Usually there were about six or seven pups a year that were allowed to attend the Rite of Initiation. We had maybe one every other year that could be sent to the Hunters Camp to be trained. The camp had rushed the few we already had there so that they could return, and they had brought some friends that were willing to fight with us. That left us with one or two still at the camp, and none of the pups currently in tysach were close to being ready for the Rite of Initiation. I was musing on this when I walked into the Guildmaster’s office. The Guildmaster was looking at something on his computer and had someone on the phone.

“Hi boss,” I said as I slumped into a chair. The Guildmaster motioned for me to sit and be quiet as he continued to work. I had no doubt that my Guildmaster would go down in the history of our chapter as one of the best to occupy his position. He had managed our scarce resources with an unbelievable efficiency. It had probably cost him ten or fifteen years of his life from the way he looked. I wished his wife was at the Guild to help him, but he had her running around as a liaison between the Guild and the packs. She was a hunter, but she had not joined the Hillsborough chapter. I knew there was some political reason for it, but the Guildmaster had never taken me into his confidence about the matter. So I did what I always did. I accepted it and asked no questions. I still wished that she would show up and help take care of the Guildmaster. The last thing the county needed was for the Guildmaster to fall over from the strain of the workload he was carrying. I listened as well as I could to the Guildmaster’s end of the telephone conversation.

“We need to take time and see what the fallout of this battle will be,” the Guildmaster cautioned. His tone was one I had heard before. I guessed he was speaking to Lord Vollen, or at least someone over at the Manor. Lord Vollen had a few advisors including the Spiritmaster, Dennis Matric who was the Guild’s representative, his eldest sister Elizabeth Vollen, and two of the more powerful packleaders. The Guildmaster told me that he trusted the coterie of advisors to be giving the lord useful advice, but they tended to be demanding. It was hard for the lord to understand that although the war had been going well for him so far it didn’t mean that it would continue to do so. Apparently the battle in Sun City had been worse for the lycanthropes than I had thought. The Guildmaster paused as he listened to the lycanthrope on the other end.

“Yes, we won,” the Guildmaster said, with a hint of frustration in his voice. I doubted whomever he was talking with would have detected it, but I had been on the receiving end of it too many times not to immediately hear it. “Unfortunately my lord it was almost a Pyrrhic victory. I’m looking at the casualties for both the packs and the Guild.” The Guildmaster stopped abruptly as Lord Vollen said something. An angered expression crossed the Guildmaster’s face for a brief moment.

“I realize that you want to press what you believe is a strong momentum,” the Guildmaster said with an almost forced calm, “However, that is not what we have. What we have is the vampires never having a chance to be fully committed to this war. We’ve managed to keep them off-balance through a combination of speed, ferocity, and just plain luck. That has been changing slowly as the vampires have been regaining their footing. They have always had the numbers on their side, my lord. They can produce their numbers faster than we can. The rage over your father’s death had sustained us so far. That rage is fading as we fight and lose numbers.” The Guildmaster paused as Lord Vollen said something. “No my lord, I am not making your case for you. I am telling you that the war has entered its next phase. This is where both factions will begin grappling for position. We will fight, but with the depletion of our numbers both in the Guild and the general lycanthrope population, we must prepare to have to be on the defensive while we regroup.” I knew that the lord didn’t like hearing that. I didn’t like hearing it from the Guildmaster. The thought that we wouldn’t continue our mostly strong string of victories against the leeches went completely against every instinct in my body.

“Thank you my lord,” the Guildmaster said, and I could see the relief physically wash over my boss, “I will keep you updated on the Guild’s status and we should be able to try and keep the leeches off balance as best we can.” The Guildmaster hung up the phone and looked over at me. I couldn’t read his expression, and that worried me. I was usually really good at reading my boss. “I am fairly certain that your job tonight is not going to be important in the long run of this war, with the possible exception of forcing Lady Thames to expressly stating her position on helping us during this war.”

“Did I lose us some covert help from the Pinellas Guild?” I asked quietly. I knew that sometimes the way that I did jobs had repercussions that I normally didn’t have to deal with. Since the war started, I had tried to keep my normal flamboyance under control so as to not to force the Guildmaster in having to deal with more problems.

“We probably lost their covert help, but not exclusively because of you,” the Guildmaster, “Any of the jobs we would have needed to do in Pinellas to curb the TCV’s incursion into that county would have forced the same result. I knew that it was a possibility when I gave you that job. Now, that said, I will say that I am glad that you were harrying off on some wild guess rather than joining that battle down in Sun City.” I wasn’t sure how to take that comment. Part of me was slightly offended that the Guildmaster didn’t want me in a firefight where I could have probably have done some good, but most of me was just uncertain. My uncertainty must have shown on my face because the Guildmaster smiled.

“Relax Marcus, I have no doubt that you would have made yourself known during that fight,” the Guildmaster said, “Unfortunately, you also have a nasty habit of finding yourself in the middle of the nastiest part of the fighting. In this instance, I have a suspicion that you would have been one of the casualties, and I can’t afford to have you out of action at the moment.” The Guildmaster was pragmatic if nothing else. “What did your investigation turn up?”

“Nothing substantial, but I just dumped a bunch of mostly useless stuff onto the intel group that we recovered at the site,” I answered, “I want permission to release copies to the aristocracy. I don’t think they will come up with anything, but with the overwork we’ve laid on intel, the backup might be necessary. There is something there, whether we can find it or not.” The Guildmaster looked at me with a hard look of skepticism. I didn’t care if my boss wasn’t sure of my hunches. I was used to defending my actions to the Guildmaster on a regular basis.

“What’s your guess about what was actually happening with the humans?” the Guildmaster asked. His voice was still skeptical, but at least he was willing to give me a chance to defend my hunch.

“Truthfully, I don’t know. My best guess is that they are stocking up on food so that their soldiers don’t have to go out to hunt and get caught by our warriors,” I answered, “I wouldn’t be surprised if that was how we caught a lot of the leeches so far. The warriors have been too successful for it not to be stupid decisions on the TCV’s part. I have a partial address that may be where the leeches are taking all of the humans. I was trying to fill in the blanks, but I couldn’t make it work.”

“Okay, let’s see what the intel group digs up,” the Guildmaster said, “I doubt its quite that complex, but you have a plausible theory. If we find – let’s call it a supply depot – then I will probably need you on the job. Go rack out and get some rest. I will probably have a job for you later.” I nodded and left the Guildmaster’s office. With our strength depleted, I could foresee my workload increasing in the near future.

Nick doesn’t ask for my help very often, so when he does, I tend to move heaven and earth in order to help him out. Intel wanted to confirm that their suspicions about the location of a leech sleeping hole in Tampa. Lycanthropes liked knowing where the leeches slept during the day. It was much easier to hit the bastards when they didn’t have a real chance to fight back. Plus, the sleeping holes were targets that we could reasonably expect one of the packs to deal with, rather than having to detail a hunter to the job. Confirmation, on the other hand, needed to be done by a hunter. We were just much better at doing the sneak and peeks than the general lycanthrope. Deadeye asked Nick to handle the sneak and peek on the target. Usual set of instructions – do enough recon to confirm the intel group’s suspicions and to get a basic feel for the target, and then quickly extract. Engage only for self-defense. Nick wasn’t supposed to go after the leeches by himself, he was just to make sure that they were there. According to what Deadeye told him, there was a pack of warriors ready to do the attack as soon as confirmation was made. With hunters becoming scarce, we needed to do our jobs quickly and get ready for the next one.

“So that’s the basics of the job,” Nick concluded after he found me in the training room of the Guild, “Do you have anything on your plate right now?” I thought for a moment. I had no jobs at the moment, but that was due more to the fact that I was supposed to be on “down-time” for resting and training than the Guildmaster had no jobs for me. Since the war started, the Guildmaster was being more forceful about hunters not doing jobs when they should be at least resting. He was being especially forceful with me because the Guildmaster was aware of that I really hated inactivity when there were jobs to do.

“Better question is whether I’m supposed to do anything right now,” I answered with a half-smirk on my face, “Doesn’t matter. Don’t ask, don’t tell. What do you need me to do?” Nick looked at me skeptically. He knew the restrictions that the Guildmaster had me under in terms of jobs. He also knew that I routinely ignored them, much to the annoyance of the head of our chapter. He seemed to weigh asking me for a favor he knew that I would do without hesitation against whatever backlash he could suffer when the Guildmaster found out that I was assisting a job when I was supposed to be resting. He must have decided that I would be the one to suffer the full wrath of the Guildmaster – which I would, considering what happened every other time I ignored my boss.

“The target is in the middle of Tampa, and even during daylight, I would prefer not going in alone,” Nick said, “Especially if I’m going after what could be a leech sleeping hole. I just want some backup. Nothing real intensive if I’m just going to be doing a recon job.” While I didn’t mind helping Nick, there was something about this job that was starting to bother me. Nick had never asked me to help him on something unless he thought there would be some real problems. Little things, Nick just handled with his normal aplomb. The few times that I had been invited along to one of Nick’s jobs had ended up into heavy fighting.

“What the fuck, Nick?” I asked, “No time have you asked me to help you out unless you think that bad shit is going to erupt. Are you expecting trouble?”

“Yes.”

“Okay then,” I answered, “I’ll go get some toys.”

The target was in West Tampa, a predominantly Hispanic part of Tampa. It was probably best known as the home of Alessi’s, a well-established cafeteria and caterer. It was considered a landmark in the community for its Spanish dishes and strawberry shortcake. The target was a small home off of Himes Avenue, which made the recon a little more difficult. Many of the residents in this neighborhood had lived here for decades, and they would know if something out of the ordinary came into the brick-laid streets. So, Nick and I had to be a bit more covert than normal. So, instead of a sedan or our motorcycles, we had borrowed one of the utility vans from the Guild’s motorpool and attached the TECO logo to the side. Masquerading as the local power company wasn’t something hunters did normally, but we had all the gear available when we decided it was necessary.

The van was similar to the one I had used when I had helped raid the harem before the beginning of the war. It seemed so long ago, but it had been maybe six months since Lord Vollen had declared war on the vampires. The front of the van looked like a standard service van. The back was set up with a pair of small camcorders and a parabolic mike, all of which were linked to a small computer. In addition to the surveillance gear, there were a couple of firing ports in case the lycanthrope in the back needed to engage the enemies. Nick would be driving and was dressed in a TECO uniform. I would be in the back watching over Nick in case something happened. Since I wasn’t supposed to be seen unless the shit hit the fan, I didn’t bother with the TECO uniform. Instead, I wore jeans and a t-shirt with my new Kevlar vest covered by a tactical vest. I had my USP Tactical in a thigh holster. I had my Commando carbine clipped to a holder on the inside of the van. I chose my Commando over a regular submachine gun, like my normal MP5, because I wanted the additional hitting power of the 5.56 mm cartridge. I didn’t know what we were going to run into, but I had a nasty feeling that I would need something that would go through normal body armor. Plus, Boomer had managed to convert some RIS’s so that they would fit my Commando. The Rail Interface System, developed by Knight Armaments Corporation (KAC) and built in Tampa, was a unique system of four ridged rails that took the place of the forward hand guard on the M16 weapons. It allowed the quick attachment of a variety of electronic or subsidiary weapon systems. Now I could quickly attach anything from a nightvision system to a grenade launcher (well, the grenade launcher really wouldn’t fit under the extremely short barrel of the Commando – but Boomer was working on that). At the moment, I had attached a Surefire flashlight to the underside of the Commando. I didn’t need the light if I was in true form, but the extremely powerful light had the dual use of being able to temporarily blind a target if I managed to hit it in the eyes. It was useful in the close-quarters combat that I anticipated if Nick ran into trouble. I also had a few knives, and of course, a couple of flash-bangs.

As we pulled up to the target house, Nick rubbed his throat across the concealed microphone. I heard the double click in my headset to let me know that he was starting his job. I made sure that the surveillance gear was working, and watched Nick as he approached the front door. In his hands was a device that looked like one of the oversized PDAs that TECO used for its meter readers. It was actually a sensory device that detected various microwave, infrared, and laser emissions from known security systems. I kept watch on both Nick and the area as he continued to sweep for telltales of a security system beyond the basic home alarm system. Nick was being his normal systematic self, which meant the work was slow and tedious to watch, but I couldn’t argue with his results. It didn’t make my job any easier. Guard duty was one of the hardest things for a hunter to do. It required a hunter to be always vigilant under conditions that would drain the concentration of even the most conscientious hunter. There were tricks to keep your mind focused on the job at hand. All I had to do was to constantly remind myself that it was Nick out there, and he had a nasty tendency to attract trouble like a magnet in a steel yard. The house itself was a single story home with a covered carport. A chain-link fence surrounded the back yard. From what plans we could retrieve from the Guild database, the house had a living room/dining room in the front of the house with a large kitchen behind it. Two small bedrooms were off to the right of the main room with a bathroom in between them. A master bedroom was located off the kitchen. There was a small utility room in the carport, but it had no door into the house. There was a front door, a side door from the carport, and a back door that led out onto the back porch behind the utility room.

Something flickered at the west corner of the building where the carport started. It wasn’t distinguishable, and I don’t know what actually caught my attention. Nick hadn’t seen anything, or else he would have contacted me or stopped what he was doing. I checked the monitor again to see if whatever it was had made another appearance. I didn’t see it, so I opened a new window in the monitor so that I could view the playback while still keeping an eye on Nick. The flicker was a dark spot that could have been any number of things, such as a pet or the local wildlife, but I was sure it was something bad. “Nick, there’s something on the west corner.”

“What?” he asked in response, as he stopped and mimicked looking at the reading on his sensory device. I replayed the image again, but it was a blur that the computer couldn’t refine.

“Don’t know,” I answered, “Saw something, and I don’t think it’s friendly.” Nick looked at the corner of the house. Part of the device was a digital camera that could also be used as a spotting device. Nick zoomed in on the corner, but neither he nor I saw what the flicker was. “Do you want me to come out to back you up?”

“No. I’ll investigate, but get ready to get out here in a hurry,” Nick answered in his normal, calm tone. Nick hung his sensory device at his belt and made his way to the corner. I could tell that he was ready with his revolver if something appeared out of nowhere. With that monster, Nick could take down anything that our world could throw at him. Just to be on the safe side, I unclipped my Commando from the wall of the van and made sure that it had a round chambered. My instincts were telling me that something bad was happening in that house. I watched as Nick moved to the corner of the house. He looked like he was doing a casual inspection, but I could see that he was ready in case something happened – like a firefight. Nick rounded the corner and saw – nothing. There was no car in the carport and no sign of anything that should have made the flicker that I saw on the monitor. I could see Nick relax, but my instincts were still screaming that something was wrong.

“I’m going to check the back of the house,” Nick told me as he walked just beyond the view of the cameras of the truck. A small window opened on the computer monitor as Nick turned on the small camera on his device. It was a small digital video camera that was linked directly to the computer in the van. It wasn’t the best and it took a lot more battery power, so Nick and I had decided to save it until Nick was beyond the view of the cameras in the van. The back porch was empty and the backyard looked like it hadn’t seen a lawn mower in some time. The grass was easily a foot to a foot and a half tall.

“Watch that grass Nick,” I murmured over the radio link, “There might be some passives in there.” I know I would have either put in some passive sensors or some defenses – like caltrops or small pungee pits – in the tallish grass. Nick double clicked his mike in response. With any other hunter, the double click would have been a simple acknowledgement. With Nick, I knew the unspoken message was more of the I-already-knew-that-dammit-and-call-me-Nicholas. Nick walked around the back of the house and came out from the other side of the home. I felt a little better as Nick came into view of the cameras in the van. I didn’t trust the tiny camera in the sensor device to give me enough warning that something was about to happen to Nick. With my unease about the situation, I really wanted as much warning as possible.

“Okay Ranger, I’m going to do my infiltrate,” Nick said quietly, “I’ll peek through the windows first, then I’ll go through the side door if I can’t find anything.”

“Do you want me to move up when you go through the door? If something happens while you’re inside, I don’t want to be sitting out here by the curb.” I watched as Nick took a moment to think it over.

“That’s not a bad idea,” Nick answered, “If I don’t see anything in the windows, why don’t you move up to the back porch. There’s a door on the back porch you can do an entry on if you need to come and get me.” From the floor plan we had of the house, the back door would give me a nice entry point. It would allow me to flank anything that was trying to kill my friend, which I considered a very good thing.

“Okay, give me a few moments to make sure my gear is ready,” I said, “If I have to move, I’m going to need to do it very fast.” Nick pulled out his cell phone and mimicked talking on the phone as I moved some of the gear around on my body. I had most of my gear situated so that I could grab it fast and so that I could sit in the back of the van for a long period of time. If I was planning to move on scene, then I could move some of my gear to places that were uncomfortable while sitting, like the small of my back, and grab some more items, like ammunition for the Commando and the USP. You can never have enough ammunition. Plus, I could add another couple of flash-bangs. Suitably equipped for combat, I moved to the rear doors of the van and waited for Nick.

Nick used the small camera on the device to peek into the windows. I grimaced as I saw the picture appear on the monitor. Whoever was inside had placed a film on the inside of the windows. It wouldn’t appear as anything out of the ordinary in a casual inspection, but it distorted the clarity of the windows to the point that Nick and I couldn’t see inside the house. Nick looked over at the van with disgust on his face. I had to agree with him. This looked like the first indication that something was wrong with this job. Nick casually walked over to the empty carport and murmured into his throat mike. “Ranger, go ahead and move up.”

I raced out of the back of the van, using what little cover was available to dart onto the back porch. The back yard looked clear. The back porch was a cement-floored area. Steps led up to the door into the kitchen. The door had a window with the same film applied to it. I didn’t think that anyone was waiting for me, but I couldn’t be sure. The real bad news for me was that the door opened outward. What that meant for me was that I was going to have a hard time if I just tried to kick the door in. I gently tried the door knob. Damn, it was locked. Contrary to popular conceptions, shooting out the lock wasn’t a good option. There are specialty loads for doing just that, but most of them were for shotguns, which I wasn’t carrying. Unfortunately, my best option would be to break the window and unlock the door. It would be a slow and vulnerable entry, but I might make it better with the judicious use of a flash-bang. It wasn’t a particularly good entry plan, but I would try to keep Murphy’s influence to a bare minimum.

“Nick, if I have to go in, it’s going to be slow and nasty,” I told him over, and related the situation with the door.

“Just do it as fast as you can,” was Nick’s answer. This was going to get fucked up quickly. To break the window, I was going to use my right arm. My healing would prevent any real damage from the glass. Grasped in my left hand, I held a primed flash-bang. If there was something standing just behind the door, I would drop the flash-bang, let it go off, and continue the entry as fast as I could. I braced myself at the foot of the stairs, ready to race up them if Nick called me to assist. “I’m going.”

I heard the thump as Nick slammed through the door, and then was startled as the door in front of me slammed open. There was a figure crouched with some sort of small gun in cradled in its hands. Orange flashes erupted from the gun, and I threw the flash-bang directly at the figure. The rounds lanced through my body armor. I felt the sledgehammer blows as the rounds slammed through my body. Worse, they were silver rounds. Blood began pouring through the half-dozen holes in my gut as mind-tearing pain almost rendered me unconscious. My eyes were already closed when I heard the flash-bang detonate. Instinct and training forced me to look at the doorway, and I saw the figure grasping at its ears. With what seemed an incredible amount of effort, I raised my pistol and fired several rounds until the figure collapsed onto the kitchen floor.

I dropped my USP and reached into a couple of pouches. I had brought some healing cloths with me, and I quickly tore open the packaging to get to the foul-smelling patches. I swabbed out the wounds, doing as best as I could to ignore the intense pain from the wolfsbane. After a few moments, I felt some healing start. There was a small rush of energy as my body began to try to save itself. I used that energy to crawl up the stairs and into the house. I heard gunshots coming from the main room of the house, but none of it seemed to be directed at me. I pulled myself up to the body of the figure I had just killed. It was grasping a FN P90, which explained why it had managed to punch through my body armor. As I waited for my body to heal a bit more, I checked the body. It was human, which was very surprising. A quick search didn’t turn up any of the usual markings of a vampiric servant, which confused me even more. I didn’t have time to ponder the enigma, because three more humans came rushing out of the bedroom. They skidded to a stop in surprise as I raised the P90. It was nice to see Murphy was fucking with the other side as well. I triggered the P90, spraying the three humans with bullets. I liked the P90 because it had almost no climb on full auto, allowing me to keep the stream of silver aimed directly at the three humans’ midsections. As the three fell, I dropped the P90 and brought my Commando up. Using their dead comrade as cover/shooting rest, I placed accurate bursts into their exposed heads. As the echoes of the gunfire subsided in the kitchen, I heard Nick’s revolver boom three times from the main room. I shakily got to my feet and crept into the main room from the kitchen.

Nick was in the dining room that connected the kitchen and the main family room. He had overturned the dining room table and was firing at the corner of the room that led back to the two other bedrooms. I could see two bodies in the main room, lying in odd positions on the carpeted floor. I collapsed next to him. Nick gave me a quick look, which quickly turned into a worried expression. Bullets splintered through the table. Whoever was firing at us was using a Commando. I had been using the weapon far too long not to know its unique chatter as it was fired on full auto. Nick raised himself up slightly, and his revolver boomed twice more. The cylinder was already open and the empty casing spilling out as Nick crouched down behind the table.

“How many did you get?” he asked as he slapped a speed loader of those monster bullets into the cylinder of the revolver. I held up four fingers. I had healed quite a bit, but I was still leaking a lot of blood out of my back. There was still some silver poisoning on the exit part of the wounds, and my body hadn’t healed completely.

“Means three more witch-hunters,” Nick said as he swung the cylinder back into the revolver. Oh Christ. Of all the fucking things we had to run into, Nick and I had to blunder into a Sword of witch hunters. Witch-hunters organize themselves along military lines, with a group of ten witch-hunters called a Sword. The Sword is the most common formation encountered and the Sword was usually responsible for organizing operations in an area of major dispute. Usually we ran into a Sword every so often when the witch-hunters tried to eradicate the lycanthrope and the vampire. Four Swords comprised a Spear, a formation about the size of an Army platoon. Spears were responsible for recruiting and conducting operations in an area of several counties. Four Spears were called a Shield and there was thought to be one or two Shields in Florida. More likely two. We needed to finish this battle quickly before the witch-hunters realized how injured I was, or decided to call in another Sword.

“Where are they?” I asked, hoping I sounded stronger than I felt. It must not have worked, because Nick gave me that worried look again.

“I think that they are back in the bedrooms,” Nick answered, “There were more in the main room when I came in.” I lifted my head above the splintered edge of the table. Pain seared from my back, and I almost dropped my weapon. It took more effort than I wanted to admit just to push back the pain and keep my focus. “Are you going to be able to finish this?”

“Yeah, but we need to finish this quickly,” I answered, gripping the Commando tighter than I normally did. Nick nodded and began to rise from behind the table. Nick ran to the main room while I kept him covered with my Commando. There wasn’t any fire as Nick moved. I had a nasty suspicion that we were going to have to dig the bastards out of the rooms. A situation we really didn’t have time for. Fairly soon, additional witch-hunters would show up, at which point Nick and I would be completely fucked – and dead. Nick glanced over at me with a look that told me he was aware of our situation. He began motioning with his free hand

Any more flash-bangs? he signed. I looked down at my gear and nodded. Similar to the job when we rescued Jennifer Denton. Throw a flash-bang, let it go and then rush the rooms. Something about it made my instincts roar warnings. The witch-hunters weren’t like the leeches. They usually had some form of combat training, and they knew enough to properly fort up when confronted with real opposition, like Nick and me. The first flash-bang might have caught them by surprise, but now they knew we had them in our arsenal. It was time for something innovative. I raised my free hand and began signing to Nick.

Nick looked a little surprised by the idea, but he seemed to like it. I tossed the flash-bang in the front of the bedroom where the witch-hunters were holed up. I ducked down behind the table as the flash lit up part of the house and the roar shook the windows. Instead of charging into the doorway, Nick began firing his monster revolver into the wall that separated the main room from the bedroom at about knee level. We heard two distinct screams of pain and surprise. Nick opened the cylinder to reload as I rested the Commando on the edge of the table and let loose a magazine-emptying burst into the wall – right between the holes that Nick had made with his revolver.

The screams continued and a witch-hunter burst from the room with a shotgun cradled in his arms. Nick hadn’t finished reloading, and my main weapon was empty. I dropped the Commando and drew my USP. The witch-hunter shouldered the shotgun, aiming at Nick, and took a moment to pump a round into the chamber. It was a momentary delay, but it was just long enough for me to double-tap my pistol and place two .45 rounds into the bastard’s head. As the witch-hunter fell to the floor, Nick scooped up the shotgun and rushed to the corner of the bedroom. I staggered behind him as he began unloading shell after shell into the room. I dropped the magazine out of my Commando and replaced it with a fresh one from my chest. As Nick ran dry on the scattergun, I pushed him aside and let loose a long burst with the Commando. Nick had his revolver out and rushed into the room.

The two remaining witch-hunters were on the floor bleeding out from hits from either Nick’s Smith or my Commando. Nick dispatched them with single shots to the head. It was time for us to go, and I was really starting to get dizzy from blood loss. Nick helped me, half-dragging me, as we staggered out of the house and into the van. I felt the van start and jump as Nick slammed on the accelerator. I slumped down and let the darkness overcome me. This was why Nick didn’t ask me to help him a whole lot. Shit just happened when the two of us did a job together.

]]> http://www.derek-ward.com/2008/07/chapter-10/feed/ 0