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

“What the devil are you doing in my crime scene?” hollered a voice from behind me. I didn’t need my abilities to know the woman was very upset. I didn’t blame her. I would be angry in her place. The problem was that I was busy examining the body, and I didn’t need the distraction. From what my stepfather told me, if I didn’t get this problem solved, the aborigines living in New Town would either be exiled – or worse, hunted down and killed. As much as my stepfather hated to admit it, he liked having the Stone Walkers in the city. They had proven themselves far beyond any normal trouble they caused. This case was a different matter. This was murder.

I turned my head around slowly to see a tall woman in a fashionable black business suit. The kind that screamed “moderately prosperous professional.” The semi-darkness of the streetlamp-lit alley shaded her auburn hair to a dull almost brown. Large brown eyes were practically throwing daggers at me. Her leggy stride was confident and assertive to the point of aggressiveness. From her psi-scent, I could sense the rage of intrusion and the suspicion of betrayal swirling around her. I was glad I was doing my preliminary examination of the scene and hadn’t opened up my empathic sense fully. Her anger would be like having a sudden spotlight flashed into my eyes. She was just about to walk into the invisible shield I silently raised around me before the man who brought me out into this putrid alley intervened.

“Detective, the Office of Emergency Management has been tasked by Lord Manattan to assist your unit on this case,” Major Shota said calmly, “He’s just doing what we’ve asked him to do.” Major Shota was a short man with slitted eyes, cropped black hair, and an olive complexion. He was a competent officer for the Imperial Security forces in New Town, but he demonstrated a streak of politician in him that kept me from trusting him fully. Anyone spending that much time trying to keep everyone happy wasn’t spending enough time on their duties. Shota kept his wiry body at a formal stance as he spoke with the detective from the New Town Police Department. He meant it as a sign of respect, but it was only adding to the rage within the detective. Sometimes it was very annoying being able to know what everyone around me was feeling.

“Exactly what is he supposed to be doing?” she retorted, “And what makes him more capable than the other officers and detectives I have on scene?” There was something in her psi-scent that screamed arrogance to me. Some of it may have been deserved. The New Town Police Department was considered to be the finest police service in the Empire. The downside was that they knew it, and they sometimes had trouble taking advice and help on what they considered their specialties. This detective and her cohorts had managed to screw up a major case, and they refused to believe otherwise. Typical of New Towners.

“As to what I’m doing Detective, I’m examining the body and the crime scene,” I said, and I could feel smugness and condescension rise as she heard my rural accent, “As for what makes me qualified? First, I am a Chief Warrant Officer in the Imperial Rangers with years of experience dealing with aborigines in the field. Second, I was the one who helped forge the alliance between Lord Manattan and the Stone Walkers, so I have pretty good relations with the city-dwellers. Third, I’m a pretty strong psychic, which lets me sense things that your officers can’t perceive. Lastly, because Lord Manattan ordered me to handle the situation, something you and yours have failed to do!” The last part had come out loud and slightly angry, which infuriated the detective in front of me. I took a mental step back. I had to tone down my own anger before the detective dismissed me out of hand. Many New Towners were annoyingly secure in their superiority to anyone who didn’t live in the largest city in the Empire, and those of us who lived in small cities and towns got tired of their attitude very quickly. I also knew that not everyone in the city belonged to that group, so I needed to take my own prejudices in step. The detective had every professional right to be angry with me.

“That will be enough, Chief,” Major Shota said firmly. The major belonged to Imperial Security, the parent military branch of the Rangers, and he was in my chain of command. “Finish your work here.” With no further options, I did exactly as the major directed.

The body was of a young woman, late teens to early twenties by casual observation. Her clothing was expensive and trendy. Something a wealthy young woman would wear to a club. I recognized the clothing from some of the stores my sister dragged me to the last time I was in New Town. The victim was covered with both shallow and deep jagged cuts. I wasn’t sure if the numerous lacerations killed her, but if they didn’t, the removal of her heart certainly did. That part of the act looked like a ritual of some sort, with straight, precise incisions around the girl’s chest. Definitely not the work of the goblins that infested New Town. They didn’t have the patience or technique. The variation between savage and precision ruled out elves. Their minds just didn’t work that way. That left humans and aborigines. From what I saw, the wounds were caused by bladed weapons with a rough edge. Weapons that were either slightly dull, or of a primitive manufacture. I could see how the crime scene investigators decided that this was an attack by an aborigine. There was even the psi-scent of an aborigine, which explained why even the police psychics thought the Stone Walkers were involved. Everything pointed to an aborigine, but there was something fundamentally wrong with that assumption.

First, aborigines didn’t perform ritual killings. They were a patriarchal hunter-gatherer race with a very simple set of beliefs based on ancestor worship. Their religion would have forbidden them from committing a mutilation like this. Moreover, the aborigines that lived in New Town were not a tribe, but instead belonged to a particularly notorious (amongst aborigines) religious cult known as the Stone Walkers. They were even more stringent with their beliefs than their brethren out on the plains of the Empire, especially when it came to dealing with humans. Assuming that aboriginal weapons were used and that was the reason for the aborigine psi-scent surrounding the murder scene, then the wounds looked like they were caused by the long curved knife and small tomahawk of an aborigine hunter, but the wounds were at the wrong angles and depths to be the work of an aborigine hunter. The wounds were very similar, but I hunted enough goblins and orcs with aborigines to know their technique pretty well. Whoever did this knew about aborigines, enough to fool more than casual scrutiny. As much as I hated it, there was only one good way to figure out what was happening.

Psi-scents flared around me as I dropped my mental blocks. My head wanted to explode from the sudden eruption of hundreds of new psi-scents. First, I filtered out all of the psi-scents of the living. I was looking for ghosts – psychic impressions caused by strong emotions. The victim’s ghost was loud and shot through with terror. The other ghost – it was being difficult. The overlay felt similar to an aborigine – the alien emotional makeup was unique. There was something odd about the ghost. A distortion that shouldn’t be there. I dug underneath the aborigine ghost, carefully pulling at its edges. A new psi-scent emerged from underneath the aborigine psi-scent it was wearing like a cloak. The new psi-scent was definitely human. Human, and deranged. I sensed this kind before, and I did not like it one bit. This trip had made an ugly turn.

My trip to New Town started on a supposedly innocent note. A week before, I rode into Tam Bay after doing a patrol of my family’s holdings. The Stahl family was considered one of the wealthiest in the Tam Bay sectors, and we had considerable interests in many homesteads as well as our own farms. All of this was in addition to our shipping and financial businesses. I was recently put on reserve status for the Imperial Security Ranging Patrol Force, more commonly known as the Rangers, due to a public flap I had with the Empire’s most famous soldier, Major Justice. Rather than wallow in self-pity, I asked my Aunt Beth for some work. Since she had been pestering me for years to leave the service and join the family company, she gleefully found something that was right up my alley – checking on the various holdings and making sure that everything was “paid and protected.” It was work, but it was too close to my duties as a Ranger. Just enough to let me know what my anger cost me.

“There are some reporters from New Town looking for you,” a familiar voice said from behind me as I pulled the saddle off of my horse. I felt Charles’s psi-scent the moment he walked into the stable. Charles was a star reporter in Tam Bay, which meant he had no standing amongst the elite journalists from the southern cities. Amongst natives of the northern areas of the Empire, Charles was the reporter that the public trusted. I talked to him because he had never misquoted me or used anything I told him in a way harmful to the Rangers. We weren’t friends, but we were allies, in a sense. It was Charles’s reporting of my flap with Major Justice that gave my superiors enough public support to keep me in the service instead of cashiering me outright for insubordination.

“What do they want, and how can I help you beat them out?” I asked with a mischievous grin. His laugh was confirmation enough of why he tracked me down.

“Your sister’s announced her engagement to a noble from Liberty,” Charles answered, “Plus, there are rumors that Lord Manattan is going to ask you to assist on some big case down there.” I knew I was scowling, but I didn’t care. Lord Manattan was one of six district lords in New Town, the largest city in the Empire, and its financial capital. He was also my stepfather. Lord Manattan and I were civil to each other for the sake of my mother, but my relations with that entire family were strained. The only exceptions were my stepbrother, Tim, and my sister.

“Put something down about I’m very happy for my sister, and I can’t comment on an investigation I have no knowledge of,” I replied, hefting the saddle onto its shelf.

“Very happy and no comment,” Charles murmurred as he scribbled in his notepad, “Sometimes I wonder if I’m your family’s PR guy. You seem very casual about handing me these things.”

“It’s because you do such a good job,” I retorted light-heartedly, “And we know each other too well for you to abuse my trust.” Charles nodded ominously at my comment.

Charles was right. I was flooded by reporters from New Town the moment I emerged onto the public streets of Tam Bay. Reporters loved two things: celebrity and mystery. Apparently, these two things surrounded me for the moment. Having the runner from the Rangers office with orders for me did little to quell the throng’s demand for my comments. Fortunately for me, Rangers had absolutely no tolerance for overbearing and obnoxious reporters. Not a one could get past the two Rangers standing guard as I walked into the familiar building. A quick meeting with the captain informed me that I had been reinstated to active duty on the condition of being detached to the New Town station for an assignment there. Within a week, I was on a dark street examining a body.

“The good news is that this woman wasn’t murdered by an aborigine,” I told the major and the detective, “The perp is a human.” Disbelief shot through both the major and the detective. I wasn’t surprised, and to be honest, they had every right to wonder what was going through my head. All of the professionals they had dealt with before I showed up told them that these attacks were done by aborigines. They might have accepted Dark Towers, but the idea of a human being responsible for such grisly murders was shocking beyond anything they could comprehend. Here, at least, I had the advantage over the detective and the major. Outside the cities, a person comes in contact with exactly how brutal humans could be to one another.

The major, the detective – a Vanessa Hagarty – and I – along with Prince, my dog – left the crime scene for Detective Hagarty’s precinct. I needed a better overview of the string of crimes. Plus, I needed to explain things to both the major and the detective, and the crime scene wasn’t the place for that discussion. I didn’t say anything as we drove over. Too many things were running through my mind. It was almost three in the morning, and I was physically drained. I had literally just stepped off the magtrain before being whisked away to the crime scene. Prince, the faithful dog that he was, noticed my fatigue and nuzzled up against me. I just wanted to let myself drift off to sleep, but I couldn’t. Too much had to be done in too little time.

The case room was a largish room with whiteboards and tackboards lining the walls. Photos of past victims, various reports, and handwritten notes covered the boards. The police had been trying very hard to come up with a scenario that would explain everything. The only theory they had was that the perp was an aborigine. A mug of tea was thrust into my hand as the case room rapidly filled up with about a dozen police officers and another half-dozen others affiliated with the Office of Emergency Management. I hated putting on impromptu dog-and-pony shows, but there wasn’t much choice. At least I had the dog.

“Okay folks, here is what we’re dealing with,” I began, fatigue slowing my already pronounced drawl. I wrote on the whiteboard as I spoke to help keep my thoughts in order. “The most common term is ’serial killer.’ A human with a psychopathic need to murder. Let me repeat that. Our target is a psychologically disturbed human. From the information that I gathered at the scene of the latest murder, I will give you some guesses as to whom our target is.”

“Just what makes you think you know more than we do, hick?” asked one of the police detectives. Hostility permeated his hulking frame and psi-scent. It spiked the moment I spoke. That told me the detective was one of those wonderful people who knew that anyone living beyond the walls of a proper city were uneducated imbeciles. I figured he would be the most trouble. I looked at him from across the room. He toppled over as his chair was yanked out from under him by a careful telekinetic shove.

“First, because I’m a pretty strong psychic,” I growled at the detective. The detective angrily clawed his way off the floor and took a step towards me. A throaty warning growl came from Prince. The detective stopped immediately at the sight of a snarling Imperial war dog. Prince kept the detective from advancing, but the rage inside the detective continued to build. I kept my eyes on the detective, but I raised my voice to address the entire group. “We don’t have much time before this trail goes cold, so let me make this point up front. My name is Chief Warrant Officer Stahl of the Imperial Rangers. You may refer to me as ‘Chief,’ ‘Chief Stahl,’ or even ‘Ranger Stahl,’ because I am trying to be nice. I am up here because I know a sight more than any of you about what you thought you were dealing with and what you actually are. All of you have pretty much grown up within the relative safety of the New Town walls. What you’re dealing with now is something completely new for you. Centuries of proper psychological screening and adjusting within the cities have made severe psychological problems a thing of the past for you. Until now.” I waited a moment to see if any of them would do anything. I had their somewhat reluctant attention. Professionalism was beating out prejudice for the moment. I made sure that I was following suit and keeping the annoyance out of my voice.

“The target has not been psych screened,” I said, “My guess is that the target is most likely an aristocrat male.” A hand shot up from one of the OEM agents. I pointed at him to let him ask his question.

“Couldn’t this person just be an immigrant to the city?” he asked earnestly, “I’ve heard that some of the religious groups prohibit psych screening.”

“Good question, but no,” I answered, slightly relieved that my audience was taking this seriously enough to ask intelligent questions. Except for the first detective, the group’s professionalism was taking hold. Perhaps the NTPD could back up its reputation. “The fact that he’s eluded police means he’s very familiar with the city. The familiarity that comes with living here much of your life. Plus, all immigrants to the cities are psych screened, especially the children. Even religious groups are psych screened, just more subtly. The only natives that could have been able to avoid a psych screening would be someone in the aristocracy. Further, the nature of the attacks, combined with the psych aspects point to someone within the aristocracy.”

“So what, we question every person of noble blood?” asked the police detective I had hit earlier. His rage was still there, but it was being tempered at least. “Without something to narrow our pool down, we’ll raise all sorts of problems.” The police detective was an arrogant pain, but he was very correct. Not only would the noble class as a whole protest – and they had the ability to cause a lot of problems – but we would also tip off our perp that we were on to him.

“First, we can eliminate any of the female nobility,” I answered calmly, “The wounds could have only been caused by a male. This is a male who knows a great deal about aborigines. Probably fantasizes about them. He knows enough to think like them, which is what fooled all of your other professionals and psychics. He may also be a latent psychic.” That caused a stir amongst the crowd. If I was thinking straight, I would have been more gentle with that last bit, but I was too tired and trying too hard to get the information out to the collection of officers and agents so that they could actually do something with the information. Latent psychics were scary. They had all of this power with none of the years of training and indoctrination from the Psi-Academy. I tried to settle down all of anxiety that flooded the room.

“The good news is that I did manage to get his psi-scent,” I told the assembled professionals, “When I get close to him, or something he’s left his ghost on, I can track him.” There was a marginal improvement in the general attitude. An older detective stood up and came towards me. From the deference everyone else gave the detective, I figured he was either the head of the crime task force of the chief of detectives.

“How do you intend to proceed on this Ranger Stahl?” the man asked. I was a bit taken aback. I was just supposed to help. I wasn’t expecting to become one of the lead investigators. From the emotional reaction of the police officers, they hadn’t expected it either. My mind raced for a moment as I thought what needed to be done. I had the target’s psi-scent, but it would be difficult to track unless I had a fresh site. Getting close to the target would let me catch his scent, but narrowing down the pool was going to take some investigative work.

“First, I’ll have to find an aristocrat with a known interest in aborigines,” I began, “He may not be our target, but he would know the others within his circle of enthusiasts. That would give us a pool of suspects to investigate.” The older officer nodded, somewhat satisfied by the answer.

“If that’s the case, then our first stop should be NTU’s aboriginal studies department,” Detective Hagarty said, “The professors would know who to talk to.”

“Okay, both of you rack out in the crib and get over to the university first thing in the morning,” the older officer said. I followed Detective Hagarty to a small room with several cots. Each of the cots had a small foot locker. I unzipped my vest and placed it, my pistol, and my saber into the foot locker. I lay down on the cot and passed out before my head hit the pillow.

New Town University is one of the four most prestigious schools in the Empire. It is known for its strong science and mathematics departments, as well as its law school. With nearly three centuries of tradition, the walled campus exuded an air of assumed superiority. The aboriginal studies department occupied a small corner of Fleischman Hall, NTU’S liberal arts complex. The department was headed by a Dr. Strevas. He was a nervous mouse of a man who was surprised when an NTPD detective and an Imperial Ranger came knocking at his officer at the beginning of his day.

“What do the authorities want with me?” Dr. Strevas stammered. He had only opened the door enough for his gaunt frame to slip out. He brushed back his unruly black hair as his eyes darted between Det. Hagarty and me. “I’ve already told you everything I know about who the killer might be.” I sensed a deep shame in the doctor. He felt guilty about betraying the race he had studied for probably most of his life.

“Doctor, why don’t we take this talk into your office,” Det. Hagarty suggested with a friendly warmness, “We’ve uncovered some new information, and we’d like to talk to you about it.” Strevas didn’t want to talk to us at all from his psi-scent, but he didn’t seem to be able to think of a polite way of saying no. With a reluctant shrug, the doctor opened the door all the way and led us into his office. Ghosts immediate flooded my senses from the items that were carefully strewn around the room. One in particular practically screamed at me. I fixed my gaze on an aboriginal hunting knife lying in an opened parcel. With a delicate telekinetic touch, I lifted the knife up and gently levitated it over to me. The screaming ghost on the knife was the murdered girl from last night. The body in that darkened alleyway. As the knife floated closer, I sensed the killer’s ghost just under the girl’s ghost. This wasn’t the killing weapon. This was the knife that took the girl down and severed all the necessary muscles so she couldn’t escape or even hope to stop the killer from performing his atrocities. There was recently dried blood on the obsidian blade. The killer was taunting us.

“What are you doing?” screeched the doctor as I held the knife aloft in front of me, “That’s a very delicate specimen that I just received today!” The man was purple with apoplexy. Det. Hagarty stepped between Dr. Strevas and me.

“Where did you get that knife?” she asked in a calm, almost non-confrontational tone. The doctor looked at the detective for a brief moment and visibly settled down.

“One of my most prolific amateurs,” he answered haughtily, “He routinely sends me interesting pieces. That is an aboriginal hunting knife. They use it–”

“To kill small game or bleed larger animals,” I answered, my annoyance with Dr. Strevas flowing through my voice, “This one took down a young woman last night. That’s her blood on the blade.” I watched as the academic went from purple to the palest white. His emotions were a typhoon of conflict as he tried to grapple with what I had just told him to what he thought he knew.

“How did he get that knife?” the doctor stammered, mostly to himself. I wanted to push the point, but Det. Hagarty waved me back. I had interrogated dozens upon dozens of people in my career, but it didn’t bother me to let the detective take the lead. She knew the city and its people. The doctor continued to murmur to himself as he desperately tried to avoid the conclusion that was plainly in front of him. I scanned around the room, examining each of the ghosts. Three others were from the killer, each of them bound to weapons used to incapacitate the victim. The killing blade wasn’t in the office.

“Doctor, please, tell us who sent you these items,” Det. Hagarty said.

“I don’t remember the name of the man,” the doctor said, emotionally exhausted, “He just sends me these packages with no return address. I only met him once briefly at one of Lord Manattan’s benefit. I exchanged a few words, and forgot about him. Then, the items began turning up with notes describing where they came from. The man seemed to be on some sort of self-financed safari, visiting various tribes through the southern sectors. At least, that’s what I thought.” Dr. Strevas looked longingly at the floating knife. “You’re going to have to take all of them, aren’t you?”

“They’re evidence,” Detective Hagarty said sympathetically. She had a better game face than I did. The simpering academic was annoying me. I could feel his emotions. He had no sympathy for the victims. He was only worried about his precious collection of artifacts. I wanted to grab him and scream at him to quit whining and help us find the killer before he left us another victim. “I need you to help us get a description of the man who was sending you these items. We need to find him.”

“Oh, I can’t remember him very well,” the doctor whined, “He was taller than me, but that’s not unusual. I can’t remember his face at all.” Dr. Strevas face brightened. “I do remember his ring. It was large and made of Elf Gold with a purple stone. I’ve seen it before, but I don’t remember where.” I almost dropped the knife as the doctor described the ring. I knew what it was. I didn’t know exactly who the target was, but the pool had just shrunk considerably. I hoped Det. Hagarty had a nice dress.

“Eric, please introduce me to this exquisite woman escorting you,” my mother gushed as I made my way through the receiving line. Mom was a product of her aristocratic upbringing, and my constant lack of a private life was a continuing concern of hers. She was still hoping I would marry into the nobility and cement my ties there. Although she never said it to me, I knew that my half-common heritage bothered her ingrained sensibilities. Her marriage to my father had been arranged to cement an alliance between her noble family and my father’s commercial family. There had been a fondness and a respect between them, but no real passionate love. They hid it well for outward appearences, but there was no hiding it from their empathic son. I hid my grimace as I made the introductions. Mom was about to be disappointed again.

“May I intrroduce Vanessa Hagarty, Detective in the NTPD,” I said formally, “Detective, I present the Lady Manattan. Was that correct, Mom?” The last bit came out with a hint of sarcasm, but my mother let it slide. She knew I detested formal engagements, and that I had done my level best to not only hide my loathing but to actually feign some excitement. It was the least I could do for my sister’s engagement party.

“How do you do, Detective?” my mother beamed. Her husband, Stephen gave me an inquisitive look which was returned with a slight shake of my head. Stephen just smiled and warmly welcomed Det. Hagarty. At least Stephen knew why Det. Hagarty was with me. Although I had to admit, the detective surprised me when I told her that we would be attending my sister’s engagement party. Sometimes I forget that people aren’t only their professional side. So, where I was in the formal uniform of an Imperial Ranger, Det. Hagarty was in a black sequined gown that flowed easily as the detective glided alongside me. I didn’t want to know where she kept her sidearm.

“You didn’t tell me when you asked me here that Lord Manattan was your father,” the detective whispered to me as we walked into the crowded reception room.

“Stepfather, detective,” I corrected, “He’s the one who asked me to step in on the investigation.”

“For the evening, perhaps you should call me Vanessa,” she said with a smile. There wasn’t any intimacy in the gesture, just a professional courtesy.

“Okay, Vanessa,” I said, “I’m Eric. As to our job, our target isn’t here yet. He will be by the end of the night.” I looked around the room. There were dozens of psi-scents in the room, but none so far that matched our target.

“How can you be sure?” Vanessa asked, scanning the room.

“He’s one of Lord Manattan’s Chosen,” I said quietly. Vanessa tensed. The Chosen were hand-picked men and women who were supposed to help Lord Manattan maintain a well-run district. These were to be the leaders of the community that offered advice and executed specific directives from the lord. Most of them were in his closest circles of friends.

“Are you sure?” she asked, with a hint of hope that I wasn’t. Busting a Chosen for such a heinous crime wasn’t something a police officer looked forward to doing.

“Yes,” I answered, curtly “The ring that the doctor described resembles the ring used by the Chosen. Once I meet him and get his scent, we can take him down.”

“Why didn’t you warn Lord Manattan?” Vanessa asked, clearly concerned.

“Our target’s most likely a latent psychic,” I explained, “Warning anyone might have spooked him. This is our best chance at catching the target.” Vanessa shrugged her shoulders noncommittally, but I sensed that I convinced her. I took another step when a streak came out of the corner of my eye and slammed into me.

“ERIC!” shrieked my sister as she plowed into me. Sissy was easily twenty centimeters shorter than me and maybe sixty kilos soaking wet, but she had an inexhaustible supply of energy and the kinetics of a hyper-charged gas molecule. I hugged her and kissed the top of her head as she squeezed for all she was worth. Sissy wasn’t happy if I didn’t come away from one of her hugs without sore ribs. “I wasn’t sure if you were going to make it down here.”

“Now why would you say that?” I asked.

“You missed both of my graduations, my coming out party,” Sissy droned, counting the events off on her fingers. I couldn’t tell if she was being serious or sarcastic. She had a bit of latent psychic in her. Not enough to manifest actual powers, but enough to shield her mind and emotions from me. She gave me a mischievous smile before I could reply. “I know, you were busy doing your Ranger thing. Duty and all that. Somehow I’m just not surprised you came in your uniform. At least your date has better sense.”

“Sissy, this is Detective Vanessa Hagarty,” I said, taking the unspoken cue, “Vanessa, my sister, the honorable Sarah Stahl, half of the guests of honor.” The two ladies warmly clasped hands and exchanged pleasantries. “And for the record, I’m wearing my best formal uniform.”

“So you two are working the aborigine case?” Sissy asked, ignoring my comment. Vanessa’s face went to a professional neutral, but her emotions were radiating with surprise. Sissy didn’t seem to notice Vanessa’s change in demeanor as she whirled on me. “You couldn’t just come to my party. You had to bring your work into this.”

“Quit the martyr act, Sissy,” I replied sternly, “I know you better than that.” She just grinned mischievously again and waved over to a group of people. A tall man stood up from the group and approached us. As he confidently strode over to us, he ran his fingers through his immaculately coiffed hair. It seemed more a dramatic move, something to impress the lesser people around him. His psi-scent reeked of calm, self-assuredness, but his green eyes were warm and pleasant. Sissy barreled into the man with even more ferocity than she had with me. Logical conclusion – this man was the fiancé.

“Kevin Murdock, Lord of Liberty Hall,” the man said, extending his hand. I gripped the hand and found a firm and controlled handshake. “I’ve been eager to meet you Eric, may I call you Eric?”

“As a brother-in-law, sure,” I answered, “Anything from your lordship persona, it’ll be Ranger Stahl.” He laughed at my small poke at the aristocratic quirk of titled personas. “This is my colleague, Detective Vanessa Hagarty.” Kevin and Vanessa continued the ritual by exchanging handshakes and greetings.

“Actually Eric, all of the Firsts have been eagerly awaiting your arrival,” Kevin said as he and Sissy led Vanessa and I back towards the group of people Kevin had been sitting with.

“The Firsts?”

“We are the Firsts,” a slim man answered as we neared, “We are nobles who are the finest talents in our respective fields. Kevin, for instance, is the best in business.” I looked askance at my sister’s fiancé. I wasn’t as involved in my family’s firm as they wanted, but I did try and keep up with current business news. Lord Liberty Hall was a rising star and accomplished beginner, but not the best. Not by a long shot. From his psi-scent he knew it too – and didn’t care. I directed my attention back to the slim man who had mentioned a couple of others in the group. “As for myself, I am Ricardo Vega, the finest swordsman in the Empire.”

His comment caught me flat. I looked up and down Vega’s wiry frame, but there were none of the accoutrements that would follow his claim. Vega was wearing a tight suit of bright blues contrasted with light grey highlights – a style favored by the younger nobility. At his left hip, he wore an impressive-looking rapier. I could feel his curiosity building as I studied him. His eyes were begging me to say what was going through my mind. After a brief moment of continued study, I couldn’t contain my curiosity any further.

“Where’s your unit pin?” I asked. “Where did you serve?”

“My what?” Vega asked, somewhat startled. It obviously wasn’t the question he was anticipating.

“Your unit pin,” I answered calmly as I felt his emotions rise, “And why are you wearing a rapier instead of a gladius?” Indignation flowed through Vega as I questioned him.

“Eric, I am one of the Firsts,” he replied as if that were an answer in and of itself. Fortunately, he elaborated before I had to ask for clarification. “Each of us has dedicated years to their art to attain perfection. I have not had time for military service.”

“Oh, I see now. You’re a fencer,” I said, “Would you be so kind as to stop referring to yourself as a swordsman? It’s insulting to those of us who actually are.” There was sharp gasps surrounding me, and I felt the shock of my statement roll through the nearby persons. Vega’s indignation bloomed into pure anger at my words. The rapier came out in a rapid flourish. Vega was good. Of that I had no doubt.

“Perhaps you’d like me to prove my swordsmanship?” he menaced. A quick jab was blocked as my saber came out of its sheath. The crowd around us backed off into a perimeter. Although duels in the middle of a function were uncommon, everyone knew the etiquette. The problem was, I didn’t want to fight Vega. He was just being stupid, not maliciously dishonorable. I didn’t want to kill him for just being stupid.

“Stop this,” I said as I deflected another lunge, “I don’t want to fight you.” A slash came to my middle section. A step back and a sweeping block stopped it. I could have just hit the arrogant twerp with a strong enough telekinetic punch to knock him out, but it just didn’t occur to me at the time. This was being made into a matter of honor, and matters of honor were handled by swords. Even amongst those of us who weren’t nobles.

“Coward,” Vega spat as he advanced for another attack. For nobles, the insult would have been enough for the duel to become serious. I was willing to let the insult slide if it meant the fight ended. Then it happened. It had been a simple block to knock away a lunging strike. Then Vega rotated the point on his sword until the tip of the rapier caught on my chest. There was a rip of fabric and I saw my service sigil torn from my uniform. His emotions told me it had been deliberate. The nature of the incident turned in an instant.

“I’m sorry, sir. I guess I’m a better swordsman than you,” Vega said with an insulting tone.

“Young man, that was a deliberate insult,” I replied, “Not to me, but to anyone who has worn my uniform. That cannot be ignored. You wanted a duel. You have it sir.” Everyone heard me issue a formal challenge. The crowd surrounding the two of us took a collective step back. Except for one man who walked forward. From his emotions, he was as furious as I was over Vega’s actions. He had good reason. He was John Tall, Lord Vallon, the commandant of Imperial Security. Needless to say, I was surprise and slightly intimidated by his presence.

“Ranger Stahl, may I ask to be your second?” Commadant Tall asked. Vanessa and Sissy joined the two of us as I began removing my red overtunic. It took me a moment to recover from the shock his request sent through me.

“My lord, it would be an honor,” I answered handing the commandant my saber. I had been put on reserve status and almost expelled from the Rangers because of a spat with the Empire’s hero. For Commandant Tall to offer to be my second meant that my sins were publicly forgiven. I was golden again. I turned to Sissy. “How important is Vega to your wedding?”

“Please don’t kill him,” Sissy said, “I’d like him to be able to walk. Beyond that, I’ll have the photographers take care of.” I nodded grimly. I could feel Vega’s confidence and glee behind me. He was very good with his rapier, and he knew it. He supposedly had most of the advantages. His rapier was a longer and faster weapon than my saber, and Vega had the speed and training to use those advantages. That said, I still had a few things in my favor. I turned to face him.

My stepfather Stephen stepped between the two of us. He was the host of the party, so by custom, the officiator of the duel. I thought Stephen would have ordered us out, but I saw him glance at my silver sigil still lying on the tile floor. The offense to those who had served was too great, and Lord Manattan knew it. Still, he had to give us a chance to back down. “Gentlemen, I ask you, can this be satisfied no other way?”

“No, my lord,” I answered with a deadly tone coloring the words.

“No, my lord,” Vega mimicked. He was too calm. He was expecting the same duel he always fought. Vega was in for some surprises. Both of us took our stances. His was relaxed with a deadly energy hidden behind it. Mine was the one my grandfather taught me – small profile with the tip of the blade relaxed at eye level.

“Very well,” Stephen answered, “Gentlemen, you may begin at your leisure.” The room fell silent as Vega and I stared at each other. The psychological part of the duel started. Each of us waited for the other to strike, trying to find that tell that signaled the commitment to action. Here, I had the advantage. Vega could control his body, even the look in his eyes to disguise his tells. He couldn’t hide his emotions. I just waited.

Long moments continued to drag on, and I could feel the frustration and curiosity build inside Vega. He wasn’t used to dealing with someone with more patience than himself. Frustration turned to anger, and he launched an incredibly fast strike. Excellent.

The crashing sound of steel upon steel echoed through the chamber. Astonishment and discomfort flowed through Vega as I hammered his rapier with my much heavier saber. It wasn’t a simple parry. I was deliberately attacking his sword. Vega was confused by my actions and launched another lunge. Again, the saber slammed down on the thin blade.

Four more times Vega attacked. Each time, I attacked his sword. The duel was not going as Vega expected. After the fifth attack, Vega was holding his rapier a little more gingerly. A weak slash at my side was simply batted away by my gloved hand. “Come on Vega, I thought you were going to show me what a great little fencer you are.”

Vega’s rage flared through him and he drew himself into a new stance with his rapier aimed at me like a lance. I smiled as the younger man smoldered. The final part of this duel was about to start, and Vega was going to learn the difference between a fencer and a swordsman.

The rapier shot out at me with a speed I wasn’t expecting. Vega was very good. I almost didn’t block the attack. Almost. I pivoted back and twisted my saber downward to catch the rapier on the curve of my blade. My free hand grasped Vega’s forearm and yanked the young man towards me. His eyes went wide in startled terror. Hand to hand combat just wasn’t done in formal duels – by fencers. I rolled my blade up, using the curve. The point came up level with Vega’s quivering eye. It hovered there for the briefest of moments. Then, I struck. The blade came down, altered just before impact so that I struck him in his nose with the curved pommel. Blood splattered across my forearm and undertunic as Vega reeled back from the blow. Vega slammed back onto the tile floor, blood coursing out of his broken nose. He was alive, but his pretty face was marred for life. I could live with that.

One of the Firsts came running out of the crowd and cradled Vega’s head in her lap. I swallowed a laugh as she shot me a glare of pure venom. As the crowd dispersed, Sissy, Vanessa, and the commandant walked over. The commandant graciously offered me his handkerchief to clean Vega’s blood from my sword.

“Very nicely done, Chief,” Commandant Tall said, “I’m not a fan of dueling myself – bloody, messy work – but this was exactly how one should turn out.” Sissy gave the commandant an arched look as he handed me my service sigil.

“If you hate duels so much Commandant, why would you second?” Sissy asked. Both the commandant and Vanessa froze and stared at Sissy momentarily. Sissy understood some of the basics about honor, but she didn’t understand why certain matters beyond defending life and property of Imperial citizens and allies were worth risking life and limb. Matters like the honor of a service and disrespect of the uniform of the Empire were completely beyond her.

“Sissy, this is one of those things,” I told her, mussing her hair with a familial gesture. She responded with her normal glare that held no maliciousness. It was an understanding between the two of us. Her fiancé approached us with well-concealed caution. Commandant Tall made his excuses and returned to the throng of guests awaiting his attention.

“Well, that went differently than I expected,” Murdock mused as his arm possessively circled Sissy’s waist. There was an odd sense of surprise and satisfaction in Murdock’s psi-scent. He had expected Vega to make short work of me, but was glad that I didn’t kill the fop. Sissy didn’t notice the sentiment behind Murdock’s words, but Vanessa did. She hid it well, but I could tell Vanessa didn’t like Murdock.

“It’s a good thing our mentor isn’t here,” Murdock said, “Vega was one of his favorites. Actually, I’m quite surprised he isn’t here. He’s one of Lord Manattan’s Chosen.” Vanessa and I exchanged a look. Things suddenly clicked.

“Is your mentor an aborigine expert?” Vanessa asked.

“I don’t know about expert, but he’s certainly an enthusiast,” Murdock said, “He does have a fascinating collection of artifacts.”

“Name,” I demanded. Murdock looked at me in confusion. One word demands were somewhat foreign to the nobility. It tended to throw their mental processes into confusion if there weren’t flowery phrases of appreciation or respect in the request. “I need the name of your mentor.”

“Lord Chamberlain,” Murdock answered, still confused and somewhat offended by what he considered my effrontery to the traditions of polite society.

“Vanessa?”

“Already on it,” she said, and I could hear her shoes clack away as she went to find a telephone. I looked down at my sister. She had that familiar half-smile on her face. She might not understand why I do everything that I do, but she always understands that I need to do it.

“Go chase down your lead,” Sissy told me in a warm tone, “I’ll keep Kevin’s friends from giving Chamberlain advance notice. Could you do me a favor?”

“What?”

“Could you at least try to make it to the church tomorrow? Say about ten o’clock?” Sissy’s voice was light and humorous, but I could see the slight pleading. She had always shown up for my events, but I had missed so many if hers. I knew it wasn’t fair, and I even felt guilty about it on occasion. I bent down and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

“I’ll do my best,” I told her. It was the best I could tell her. Her nod in response told me she knew it also.

I pulled the brim of my Stetson down and watched as the water cascaded in front of my eyes. The momentary obscuring of my vision let me focus on the faint psi-scent I was tracking. Chamberlain was in the Lord’s Park – and he knew he was being hunted. He was dangerous, as two wounded soldiers from the battle inside the apartment attested. As the rain pelted down, I wished again that we had managed to apprehend Chamberlain in his apartment. It would have made my life a lot easier.

When we left the party, Vanessa called her superior, and I retrieved Prince from the Keep’s kennel. If we were going to apprehend a dangerous suspect, I wanted my dog with me. Just the sight of a growling Prince could smooth out an unstable situation. Stephen provided us with a car and driver so we didn’t have to waste time procuring one. Vanessa handed the driver – a PFC Goku of Stephen’s security force – an address and briefed me on the police side of things.

“The chief of detectives is trying to get us a warrant,” Vanessa said as Goku sped out of the compound with the skill of a circuit driver, “He might have it when we get there, but it’s going to depend on the judge. Our probable cause is a little shaky.” Her psi-scent told me she was just as frustrated with the possibility as I was, but she didn’t know how she could legally circumvent probable cause. I did.

“Goku, you got a radio handy?” I asked our driver as he deftly weaved through the densely packed streets. Without even looking back, he handed me a handset. I clapped him on the shoulder. “Would you do me a favor and get this on OEM’s frequency?”

“This is Chief Stahl calling for Major Shota,” I called as soon as Goku gave me a thumbs up. The radio crackled for a moment and then Shota’s weary voice came on.

“What do you need Chief?” Shota asked.

“I need a platoon of Imperial Security to Lord Chamberlain’s residence in the city,” I answered as Vanessa looked at me confused. “Solid intel he’s our target.”

“Understood. Second Platoon will be waiting for you,” Shota said.

“Don’t wait for us,” I almost yelled into the handset, “Tell the lieutenant to secure Lord Chamberlain, and to do it fast. Any delay, and we’ll lose him.”

“Okay,” Shota answered, “I’m going to head down there to help coordinate.” Shota was experienced enough to know that his presence as Lord Manattan’s representative would deflect some of the problems we were about to cause. I handed back the handset and let Goku do his job. Vanessa was glowering at me with a psi-scent that was angrier than when she had first met me at the crime scene.

“What are you doing?” she demanded, “We can’t build a case if you send in the troops. They’ll compromise evidence, trample enough of his rights–”

“Detective, I’m not trying to build a case and I never was,” I interrupted, “You’ve been collecting evidence. I’ve been collecting intelligence. You’ve been trying to arrest a perp. I’m here to stop a threat and take out a target.” She collapsed back into her seat, radiating betrayal. I should have expected her reaction. At her very core, she was a police officer. At my core, I’m a soldier.

The street in front of Lord Chamberlain’s apartment complex was crammed with police cars and the armored troop carriers of Imperial Security. Uniformed police were busy evacuating the bystanders, but I couldn’t see any of the Imperial Security soldiers. As I stepped out of the car, an angry plainclothes officer and Major Shota began to approach. Goku turned and told me, “Chief, the major said he left some things for in the trunk.”

Det. Hagarty left to speak with her superior as I walked back to the open trunk. Prince followed obediently behind me. Major Harding – the head of Stephan’s security force – had thoughtfully packed my riding vest, a working shirt, Prince’s barding, and my carbine with spare magazines. Prince held still as I quickly dressed him in the steel, cotton, and nylon armor. I carefully removed my tunic, put on the work shirt, and zipped up my riding vest. I slipped the spare magazines into their holders. I slung my carbine and walked back to where Det. Hagarty was talking with the plainclothes officer and Major Shota. The two police detectives were furious while Shota was just annoyed. Det. Hagarty turned and glared at me as I approached.

“Your soldiers came crashing through the front doors, got into a firefight with Chamberlain’s bodyguards, and let him escape,” Det. Hagarty thundered.

“Where’d he go?” I asked in response, completely ignoring the venom in the woman’s voice. There were more important things to deal with.

“Into the park,” she answered, even more furious that I was ignoring her anger and her barbs. Lord’s Park was a three kilometer long by one kilometer wide tract of cultivated ground that had gardens, small forests, as well as the Lord’s Zoo and Museum. It was a parcel of nature in the urban environment. Many of the aristocracy and wealthy merchants had their homes on the streets surrounding the park. From what I could see, Chamberlain climbed out the back of the building and literally jumped into the park from three stories up. Suicidal for a normal human. Somewhat easier for a latent psychic that must have manifested some telekinesis. Tracking Lord Chamberlain in there wasn’t going to be easy. Then it became even harder as the cold rain began to pelt down on the collected police and Imperial Security.

“Major, Detective, get whatever personnel you can muster together,” I said, “I’m going to find Chamberlain’s scent.” The two detectives were about to erupt at what they believed was a casual dismissal, but the major firmly pulled them off to the side. Good thing too, because I had some major work to do. I stepped into the entrance of the park next to Lord Chamberlain’s building. Dropping my mental blocks, I quickly found that bizarre psi-scent. He did jump down from the window of his apartment with the use of telekinesis, but he wasn’t using it as he ran into a large forested area behind the building. His psi-scent became muted as it entered the forest. Chamberlain knew he was being hunted, and his latent psi-abilities were obfuscating him from psychic detection. I wasn’t sure if he was doing it deliberately or just on pure instinct.

“I’ve got his trail,” I shouted over to the assembled leadership. Shota directed a squad of Imperial Security to accompany me. Det. Hagarty and a squad’s worth of heavily-armed SWAT police officers also joined us. With Prince following at my heels, I led the combined force into the forest.

Tracking Chamberlain through the forest was difficult. His psi-scent was faint, and Chamberlain knew the terrain. On top of all that, the darkness and the rain cut down visibility and made everyone uncomfortable. After a couple hundred meters, I kneeled down to get a better fix on Chamberlain. I tipped my Stetson and let the rain water cascade down. A private moved in close as I was searching for Chamberlain, guarding me as I looked out at the forest, deciding on how to chase Chamberlain. The psi-scent suddenly picked up and the soldier next to me toppled back. I felt his psi-scent fade to a ghost as I saw the arrow sticking out of the now-dead soldier’s neck. The fletching looked similar to an aborigine’s. A second arrow whistled down at me, and then hit the ground as it was deflected by a telekinetic shield. The soldiers around me began firing wildly into the forest as they saw one of their own fall. Chamberlain’s psi-scent muted back down as the bullets whipped past me.

I held up my hand and the firing stopped. Hand signals told the soldiers to spread out and hold their positions. I stood up from my kneeled position and slung my carbine. The soldiers were confused. All tactical doctrine for being under fire was to keep low and move in cautiously. The problem was those tactics were for orcs or goblins, even some humans. Chamberlain may have been physically a human, but he was thinking and fighting like an aborigine. I needed to get in and finish this before Chamberlain picked off the soldiers with his bow. My saber was in my right hand and my pistol gripped firmly in my left. Telekinetic shield in place, I rushed into the forest.

I felt his psi-scent spike again as another arrow lanced out at me. He was up in a tree about thirty meters ahead of me. As the arrow harmlessly splintered on my invisible shield, I launched myself into the air. My first glimpse of Chamberlain was a short, lithe man completely covered in painted markings from the various aborigine tribes and wearing a rough leather belt. Chamberlain was holding a bone bow and had a long knife and tomahawk on his belt. My attack startled him, but none of it showed on his face as he quickly drew and loosed another arrow at me. I deflected the arrow with a small telekinetic shield, and then dropped my shield entirely as I landed next to him. I couldn’t sense if he had his telekinetics up, and I couldn’t risk a bio-feedback if our two shields hit each other. With latents, there was no telling who would recover first.

My saber came down in a slash at his right shoulder. It bounced off an invisible shield about twenty centimeters above his shoulder. The tip of his bow shot out at me, and I retreated a few steps back on the thick branch as I parried with a sweep of my pistol. An unexpected telekinetic punch slammed into my stomach, and I could feel myself falling as I desperately tried to breathe. Survival instinct and years of training snapped into place, and my own telekinesis began slowing my four meter fall. I brought up my pistol and rapidly fired five rounds across Chamberlain’s form. He leapt down from the tree branch as the eleven millimeter rounds buried themselves into the tree.

We faced each other on the leaf-covered dirt ground of the forest. Chamberlain dropped his bow and was now facing me with both his long knife and his tomahawk. Chamberlain’s psi-scent vanished as his latent abilities managed to slam down with an impressive mental barricade. There was a moment of silence as the two of us evaluated the other. Chamberlain launched at me using his telekinesis to hurtle himself over the short distance. I sidestepped his attack, deflecting his tomahawk with my pistol and countering with a slash of my saber. Again my saber bounced harmlessly off of Chamberlain’s invisible shield. My God, if Chamberlain had been properly trained, he would have been one of the strongest psychics in the Empire. Chamberlain whirled on me. I caught the tomahawk on my saber, but my pistol swept passed his long knife as he jinked it at the last moment. Adrenaline dulled the flash of pain as the knife raked across my thigh. It was a nasty cut, but as I fell back a few paces, it didn’t seem to have cut any muscles. It just hurt and bled.

Chamberlain danced forward with a lightning strike that was easily deflected. With the clang of our weapons, Chamberlain danced right back beyond the reach of my saber. This was pure aborigine. Bleed out a stronger opponent and wear him down with a flurry of attacks. It worked best with groups of aborigines, but it would work well enough for Chamberlain against me. As strong as Chamberlain was, I really didn’t want to risk the shock of bio-feedback. It would knock me out too long, and the chance of him escaping was far too high. For some reason, latents could recover a lot faster from the shock than trained psychics. Another two attacks were fended off, but not without a new cut along my forearm. My counters kept bouncing off the telekinetic shield that was guarding his back. I had one other card to play.

Chamberlain grinned savagely as I staggered forward. He took a single step and bounded at me with the tomahawk held high. I gave a short whistle as my stance straightened. The grin on Chamberlain’s face slipped to slight confusion – and then outright terror as Prince erupted out of the forest. Prince’s powerful jaws clamped onto Chamberlain’s leg. With Prince anchoring him to the ground, Chamberlain slammed into the dirt. To his credit, Chamberlain held onto his weapons. Chamberlain swung his tomahawk at Prince. The crude blade bit into Prince’s side, but it couldn’t get past the hardened metal plate of Prince’s barding. I grinned as Prince ignored the strike and clamped down harder, and then shook for all of his might. Chamberlain completely forgot about me as he desperately tried to escape Prince’s ferocious maw. Bless whoever trained the Imperial attack dogs. I brought my pistol up and gently squeezed the trigger. Three rounds tore through Chamberlain’s exposed torso, completely shredding his internal organs and throwing him on his back. I felt Chamberlain’s psi-scent flare with pain and shock, and then fade to an angry and bizzare ghost.

“We’re clear,” I yelled to the waiting soldiers and police officers. Armored Imperial Security soldiers circled around me within moments of me calling all clear. A medic appeared beside me and began inspecting my wounds. Adrenaline began to fade out of my system, and my body finally let me fully feel the pain of my injuries. Crushing pain flooded my mind, and then was exacerbated as the Imperial Security medic began cleaning and inspecting the wounds on my thigh and forearm. I could feel her sympathy as my face grimaced from the pain. A stretcher was unfolded, and I gratefully laid down onto the canvas. Prince happily jogged over and sat down next to me. I just scratched him on top of his head, a wordless communication of how pleased I was with the dog’s bravery.

“No one move,” came a forceful order as New Town police officers stormed into the area, “This is now a crime scene.” The speaker was the plainclothes officer that had been with Detective Hagarty earlier. I was at the point of adrenaline withdrawal and pain where getting up and forcefully or physically confronting the officer seemed like a good idea. Fortunately, the medic prevented any such foolishness by the simple application of morphine. As I succumbed to the pleasant darkness of unconsciousness, I could see Imperial Security and NTPD doing their familiar dance of authority.

For the record, I absolutely hate getting injured. Minor injuries I can handle. Years of being abused in training schools and out on the open grasslands of my home sector made it perfectly clear that minor, and not-so-minor, pain was just part of my life as an Imperial Ranger. The gashes on both my thigh and my forearm were much deeper than I thought. Both required some heavy stitching, and it was going to take at least six weeks of light duty before I would be back to my normal self.

I didn’t make it to Sissy’s wedding ceremony. I spent most of the morning recovering from having my gashes sewn up. By the middle of the day, I was feeling good enough to try and move about. Nice thing about being a telekinetic, I didn’t have to use a crutch. I was listening to a nurse berate me for being out of bed when Commandant Tall walked into my room. His face was stern, but his emotions were laughing as he surveyed the scene. Rangers do not let injuries deter us from our duty.

“Chief Warrant!” barked the commandant. Out of pure drilled-in reflex, I straightened to attention. Commandant Tall turned to the stunned nurse. “Nurse, please excuse us.” She took one look at the Commandant’s face and quickly exited the room.

“You, Chief, are out of uniform and are in dereliction of your duty,” the Commandant said in a grave voice that masked the humor dancing in his emotions. He was playing at something, but I wasn’t sure what. Chief Warrant Rangers let their commandant play out his games.

“As to the uniform issue, sir, I can honestly plead that the hospital staff destroyed what uniform I had when they were fixing me,” I explained in my most respectful tone, “As to the other matter, I can only plead ignorance as to which duty I’m in dereliction of.” The commandant circled me, taking a careful appraisal of my bandaged arms.

“Your duty to your family should be one of your highest duties,” Commandant Tall said, “Especially since you’ve already fulfilled your duties to your Emperor. James, come in please.” A short, thin man dressed in a formal suit walked into the hospital room with a new dress uniform draped over his arms. “Yes, the New Town Police were very annoyed with you. Something about ‘calling out the stormtroopers and completely ruining a crime scene.’ The police do tend to forget that we’re soldiers. We don’t usually prosecute our targets in a court of law. We prosecute our targets on the field of battle.” There was a moment of silence between us as we both pondered the familiar discrepancy. Opponents of the Empire used that far too often as a means of discrediting the Throne for being a callous dictatorship. Truth to be told, Rangers and the rest of Imperial Security were constantly reminded by our superiors to only usurp the police forces of the Empire when there was a credible threat to the Empire or its allies. Commandant Tall, Major Shota, myself, and others knew that Chamberlain threatened the presence of the Stone Walkers. Those aborigines sacrificed everything they knew to help the Empire against our enemies, the Dark Towers. If the Stone Walkers were exiled or executed in New Town – where the aborigine religious cult was first accepted – then the few other Stone Walker groups in other cities would leave and the movement would fail. This was a threat to the Empire itself, so I had no compunctions about taking direct and violent action against Chamberlain. I did wish that it hadn’t strained the already cool relations between NTPD and Imperial Security.

“Now as to your duty, your stepfather and I have made sure that you had a proper dress uniform,” Commandant Tall said, gesturing to the clothing in James’ arms, “And I am lending you the services of my personal steward to assist you. You’ve managed to miss the ceremony, but you will not miss the reception. Is that clear?”

“Yes Commandant,” I answered, snapping to full attention. I picked up the red tunic from James’ waiting arms. I immediately noticed that the four silver circles of a chief warrant were missing. I felt the emotional spike of hesitant wariness from the Commandant as he saw me notice the absent rank.

“Ah yes, that.” Commandant Tall paused for a moment. “Against our long traditions, and over my vehement protests, the Ministry of Defense has decided that it wants a formal school for the Imperial Rangers. The details are still being sorted out, but I still need to have a teaching cadre ready. I managed to fill most of the slots, but I’m short a lieutenant.” He held up his hand sharply before I could voice my refusal. “I already know your personal reservations, but I will not let you refuse this commission. First, because I need Rangers with a variety of experiences instructing our recruits. You’ve served in just about every environment we Rangers encounter. Second, you are one of the few psychics amongst our ranks. I need your unique perspective to help train the instructors and to assist the new cadets that have psychic abilities. Finally, if I’m being forced to stop centuries of tradition that has served this branch well, then I am going to make it very painful for them by appointing the one Ranger they truly despise to the training cadre.” I grimaced, but the commandant was correct in his points. I was doubtful that I was the best person to train and mold cadets into Rangers, but the commandant was confident. I nodded wordlessly to Commandant Tall. I didn’t trust my voice at that moment. My own emotions were too cyclonic for me to be anywhere near coherent. I just stood there as James helped me into my new uniform. Tall and Stephen had outdone themselves – it fit better than my old one and was more comfortable. I would never admit it to either man, but I appreciated that they really had spared no expense in the manufacture of my mess dress. Even Rangers known for their hard edges, like myself, enjoy the occasional pampering – although we would never say so and hammer down anyone that did.

Commandant Tall handed me my saber and pistol while James handed me my worn Stetson. Standing at attention, Commandant Tall attached the gold bars of a lieutenant to my epaulets. Appropriately dressed, I formed a telekinetic crutch and walked out with the two men. The nurses were none too happy about me leaving until I showed the head nurse that I wasn’t putting any more strain on my injuries. Sometimes being a psychic was useful.

The reception was being held at the New Town Museum of Art. Sissy was an art aficionado, much like our mother. The Museum was a sprawling complex of exquisite glass and stone. I knew from conversations with Sissy and my mother it was considered a jewel of architecture. In short, it was the perfect place for Sissy’s reception. As I walked into the main gallery, I could see meters and meters of satin and lace ribbons and banners. The guests were milling about with glasses of champagne and small plates of hors d’ovuers. James whispered to the doorman as we entered the gallery.

“Announcing Lord Vallon, Commandant Imperial Rangers and Lieutenant Stahl, Imperial Rangers.” Heads turned towards us, and I felt the surge of surprise that shot through the crowd. The upper strata of society were surprised that I was being rewarded for killing one of their own. The surprise melted to disdain as they collectively remembered that I also atrociously injured one of their favorite sons. As I half-hobbled into the room, Sissy emerged from the crowd with her normal burst of uncontained energy. I just smiled as she slammed into my sore body. As I stood there with Sissy, her new husband, and Commandant Tall, the disdain of the crowd became muted.

“I was worried you’d be hiding behind your injuries when I didn’t see you at the ceremony,” Sissy said with a mocking tone. I gave her a level look, to which she just laughed.

“Be fair Sissy,” I said, “These aren’t minor things. I had to spend the whole morning in the hospital before the commandant could spring me.” She gave me a mischievous smile in response. I bent down and kissed her lightly on the cheek and whispered into my sister’s ear, “I’m about to do something that’s going to upset your new husband.”

As I stood back up, I looked my new brother-in-law in the eye. My face went from smiling to slightly menacing. It was a mask that I learned from experienced Rangers. It was the do-not-even-attempt-to-screw-with-me look we used on bandits, freetowners, and adolescents. Kevin wilted quickly under my gaze. “Let me make something clear. I do not hold you personally responsible for Lord Chamberlain’s actions. That said, I have a strong suspicion that his position as patron of the Firsts shielded him.”

“We did no such–” Kevin began to protest. My glare cut him off in midsentence. I could feel Kevin’s anger turn to fear as the silence between us stretched out. I could see him brace. He really thought I was going to hit him. Too much television.

“I was talking, so you will stay quiet,” I stated, “You and the Firsts let your privilege get the better of you. You and yours lived in a sense of denial. That comes to an end now. Something is happening. Something big, and you and yours are going to help. The military will need all of the support it can get, and you will be on the forefront.” Kevin didn’t like what I was telling him, but he agreed. He knew that there was something going on – something that the Human Empire wasn’t fully aware of, but threatening its existence. He made no further protest. He just simply nodded and walked back to his new wife. Sissy just gave me a knowing nod and escorted Kevin back to where the Firsts were waiting with an anxious fear. Kevin would let them know. Commandant Tall and I knew that if the Human Empire were to survive its next challenge, the aristocrats would have to stand firmly behind the throne. Some of us just needed to push them in the right direction.

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/the-trade-park-battle/ http://www.derek-ward.com/2008/09/the-trade-park-battle/#comments Mon, 15 Sep 2008 21:23:30 +0000 derek http://www.derek-ward.com/?p=54 TRADE PARK BATTLE

A Story Of Ranger Eric Stahl

There are some days that change a person. Then there are some days that can change the course of the Empire. Then, there are the days that do both. Mine started on what should have been a day of peace. The Empire had been basking in the glory of its triumphant Red Lake Campaign for the past ten years. The Imperial Armed Forces had taken what had been a normal border battle between Imperial Army forces and a large force of Dark Towers creaturs and had begun a five-year campaign that had ended with the Human Empire seizing the vital Red Lake. The Red Lake was the largest body of fresh water on the continent and fed three major rivers, one of which flowed into the heart of the Dark Towers’ territory. Control of the Red Lake meant control of the majority of the water ways. With the Imperial Navy’s “brown water” section as strong as it was, the Human Empire could project its force deep into the Dark Towers’ territory. It had been a costly campaign, though. Nearly four hundred thousand human and elven soldiers as well as hundreds of aborigines were killed in the brutal campaign, and several times more were injured. It was generally believed that casualties on the other side must have been severe also because no Dark Towers’ forces started up the familiar violent cycle since the establishing of the ten-kilometer perimeter around the lake. Usually, one of the Towers would have mobilized a large enough army to put constant pressure on the border. They hadn’t this time. There had only been sporadic raids along the border and into the northern territories. It was as peaceful as it had been on the continent since humanity had first encountered the Dark Towers and their minions. The Empire was pleased. Everyone knew it was going to take time to incorporate the hundreds of square kilometers that had been just added to our territory, but that was expected, and quite frankly, heavily anticipated. Over the past decade enterprising people started their way north to claim homesteads and to start up businesses near the forts and magrails that had helped push our armies forward. It would take time before all of the territory was formed into sectors. In the meantime, our new territories had been divided into four governorships. It was rough for people in those areas. I knew. I had just finished an eighteen-month stint with the third governorship that stretched the southern border of the new territory– what had been the Human Empire’s northern border just fifteen years ago.

My name is Eric Stahl, and I am a soldier in the Imperial Security Ranging Patrol Force, better known as the Imperial Rangers. Imperial Security was the branch of the military designated to handle internal threats, and the Rangers were the long range scouts for the regular garrisons. It was the Rangers that did most of the patrolling in the vast open lands between the various territorial cities, allied towns, free towns, and homesteads. Primarily, the Rangers were looking for Dark Towers’ forces that managed to open a portal within our territory and send out a mess of orcs or goblins. Once Rangers find those nasty creatures, we can call in whatever Imperial forces are around, assuming a communications airship is available, or we can deputize whatever civilian forces are available. We also round up bandits as well as ensure the free towns – those towns that refute Imperial allegiance – stay on the straight and narrow. Just because people don’t want to join the Empire doesn’t mean they can go around and cause trouble for the Empire. Rangers make sure of this. We also did small things like handle small citizen disputes, and occasionally assist local law enforcement with problems.

I was considered a pretty decent Ranger, even without the advantages that my powers gave me. Considering both the rigorous nature of a Ranger’s duties and our generally reserved attitude, it was high praise from my colleagues. It was also the reason that I had been detached from normal duty station of the Tam Bay sector on the west coast of the Imperial Peninsula and sent north to the third governorship, which the residents just called the 3G. The 3G had become a hotbed of bandits, hostile freetowns, and leftover Dark Towers’ forces. To make matters worse, the Imperial Security forces - including the Rangers – in the 3G were corrupt and adding to the horror. The violence and chaos in the 3G had deteriorated enough that the Emperor had formally directed Imperial Security to replace its current leadership with new ones and to take control of the 3G and reestablish stability. Just to back it up, the Emperor also placed an entire Imperial Army division at the disposal of Imperial Security – something rarely done, and a true indicator of how incensed the Emperor was over the situation. Rangers from all over the Empire were assembled and tasked with reforming the Rangers in the 3G into a viable and honorable force, something we hadn’t anticipated when we first arrived on station.

The first six months had become known as the “Rangers’ Civil War.” It was perhaps one of the darkest incidents in my life. I hated seeing those soldiers who wore the same famous silver star on their uniforms so disgracing our traditions, and I hated that I had to find them and kill them. The Rangers didn’t tolerate those who disgraced us, and our enemies knew it. There were several pitched battles, and we ended up seizing a lot of free towns that harbored the excommunicated Rangers. We didn’t get all of the traitors, but we forced enough of them out that the citizens of the 3G no longer cringed when they saw a Ranger riding through.

Then came the hard work of fully stabilizing the governership. The real fun of that part was meeting and establishing relationships with the various aborigine tribes. Rangers have a long history of amicable relationships with aborigines, but we had no problems with hunting down tribes that decided to raid Imperial settlements. It was the newly reestablished Rangers that began negotiations with the tribes of the 3G to enlist the aborigines’ aid to ensure the safety of Imperial citizens within the 3G. It was hard work, but the four major tribes of the 3G had finally agreed that humans in their territory were not to be raided, and that trade was allowed between the human settlers and the tribes. Some of those agreements had been cemented during a particularly nasty fight between Rangers, Imperial Security forces, the tribes, and nearly ten centuries of orcs with accompanying goblins. The Battle of Black Rocks began when an Imperial Security company had found the main stronghold of the Dark Towers within the 3G. Then, as the saying goes, the company threw a battle, and everyone came, including the aborigines, and myself. My stint finished with the 3G just about to be broken into the new Utalla and Ypres sectors. For my service, I had been awarded a silver chit (for my assistance with the negotiations with the aborigines), a gold chit (for my actions during the Battle of Black Rocks), as well as a nice promotion to Warrant Officer First-Class. I got the feeling from the governor that if I had asked for a commission, I would have been made a lieutenant on the spot and given part of the Ypres sector. I was grateful that the authorities thought highly of my work, but I wanted to return to the humid grasslands of the Tam Bay sector. Before I did that, though, I decided to do something I rarely did. I took a week of leave and went to visit my mother in New Town.

I had nothing personally against my mother, but our relationship was effectively stunted the moment I realized that her marriage to my father had been only an alliance between her aristocratic family and my father’s commercial family, and I was essentially the part of the deal that benefited my father’s family. That is not to say that she spurned me or didn’t show me affection. It was just that she just relinquished the majority of her parenting duties to my father and his family so that they could groom me to work in the family firm. After all, I was a first born. When my father was killed in an orc raid on one of our holdings, my mother promptly packed up my sister and their belongings and returned to her hometown of Liberty. I was left to my father’s family raise. I was fifteen. The family shrink said I developed abandonment issues. She wanted intensive therapy to help me deal with my rage – especially in light of my burgeoning powers. Instead, I followed the advice of my grandfather. On my eighteenth birthday, I joined Imperial Security and became a Ranger. Grandpa was right. The Rangers gave me a sense of belonging and a mature outlook on my life. My earlier resentments dissipated and I settled into the rough and tumble life of an Imperial Ranger. It annoyed my father’s family that I didn’t resign after my first hitch, but Grandpa and my Uncle Dennis laid down the law. I was allowed to be a Ranger for as long as I wanted, and my family wasn’t to bother me about it. They still did, but they were at least subtle enough that I could ignore them without being rude.

My mother had returned to her social circle in Liberty and ended up marrying the Lord of Manattan in New Town. I didn’t like Stephen much, nor his eldest son, but I could tell he was truly in love with my mother, so I did my best to maintain a civil relationship. Being a lord and a politician, Stephen recognized my gesture for what it was and returned the sentiment. His eldest son, George, on the other hand, continued acting like a spoiled aristocratic brat. Fortunately, George and his younger brother Timothy were commissioned officers with the Imperial Army and they were gone when I visited my mother. I had hoped to see my sister, but she was attending school in the capitol city of Crash.

The day started normally. I had been in New Town for a couple of days already, so there was no more standing on ceremony. By long ingrained habit, I had awoken an hour before dawn to do my daily chores. At five-thirty in the morning, the only people roaming about Manattan Keep were some of the cooks and a few of the personal servants. My mother and her husband wouldn’t be down for breakfast until eight in the morning, so activity was kept to a minimum. Some of the servants grinned with amusement as they saw me go through my morning ritual. First, of course, was PT down in the Keep’s gym. A half-hour of running on the treadmills and some weight work wasn’t as much as I normally did, but it kept me in shape while I was on leave. I spent the next hour on my weapons and gear. I cleaned the firearms, sharpened and oiled my saber, checked the action on my retractable spear, and made sure that my riding and personal gear was in order. I still had a few days left on leave, but a Ranger is always ready at a moment’s notice. It was a tradition as old as the Rangers themselves, and I had no idea that the tradition would be so important that day. As soon as I was satisfied that I had fulfilled my obligations, I cleaned myself up for the coming day. Then I went to meet with Halle.

I had no real problem with the personal assistant that my Stephen’s chief of staff assigned to me during my leave. As the stepson to one of the six district lords – one who was also making a name for himself as a firebrand for the Liberal Party in the House of Lords – I was perfectly aware of how the media and Stephen’s political opponents were watching me. Personally, I didn’t care, but part of my maintaining a civil relationship with my stepfather was not putting myself into a situation that could have problems for his political career. Stephen had never asked me to pretend to support him or his politics – which I vehemently didn’t – and in return for that consideration, I didn’t make my opposition public. I even occasionally showed up at one of the numerous little affairs that usually took up an aristocrat’s daily schedule. Which is why I had Halle to remind me of those affairs that were more important than others. I looked down at my watch. It was seven in the morning. I suddenly started feeling a little queasy, but I just chalked it up to needing something to eat. Even I sometimes forget to pay attention to the little things.

Halle had her normal strained smile on her face. She tried to mask it, but I knew she despised having to work with me. One of the advantages of having my powers was that it was almost impossible for people to hide how they felt. I am a psychic, primarily an empath. I can sense emotions. More than that, I was an empathic hunter. Once I had someone’s unique psi-scent, not only would I recognize it again instantly, but I could track the person from the “ghost” emotions that people leave trailing behind them. Amongst psychics, I am considered to be a very powerful empathic hunter, which was a problem until I learned how to control it. Most of the time, I just felt a person’s psi-scent and whatever strong emotions are running through them. Opening my empathy fully could be overpowering even in small cities like Tam Bay, much less the sprawling metropolis of New Town. Still, I enjoyed my powers, even those other powers that I didn’t use very often. They were part of what made me a successful Ranger. I don’t think Halle was told exactly what I could do, but there was something about me that she didn’t like. It’s not like I have telepathy. I couldn’t read her thoughts. I sat through her telling me Stephen and my mother’s schedule, informing me what invitations had been offered to me by individuals and organizations hoping to make inroads with Stephen, and reiterating once again how I needed to watch my decorum. At first, that last part annoyed me. After all, I had been in the military for nine years, almost all of that time as a Ranger. Rangers were expected to maintain a professional attitude no matter what. When a Ranger is dealing with feuding homesteaders, deceitful free townspeople, bandits, and aborigines, that professional attitude could be just effective as the weapons we carried. Then I came to the realization that Halle had absolutely no idea what the military demanded of its Rangers, and she wouldn’t even if I explained it to her. After that, I just ignored her and concentrated on finishing my leave without incident. It was seven forty-five when the two of us began to walk to the dining room to join Stephen and my mother for breakfast. As the two of us walked along the plush-carpeted hallway, the dizzying wave of power hit me. As I collapsed to the floor amidst Halle’s startled scream, my mind made the logical jump. Someone had just let loose some powerful magic in Manattan. Magic that powerful could only mean one thing – it had been something from the Dark Towers.

I scrambled back to my feet and ran the distance to the dining room. Stephen’s head of security was a former Praetorian and a minor psychic as well, and although we had a personal dislike, we were both professionally respectful. As I entered the room, I saw Stephen on the telephone with his head of security, Major Higgins, leaning up against a wall next to him. Higgins and I traded a look and both of us knew that the other had felt the wave. Since his powers were nowhere near my level, the wave didn’t affect him as strongly as it did with me. My mother was sitting at the table looking like nothing was wrong, but I knew that she was nervous. She knew that something was going on, but she didn’t know exactly what. Stephen glanced up at me as I came into the room. He didn’t say or show anything, but there was some measure of relief as I came into the room. I pulled Major Higgins off to the side to get whatever information I could. Something bad was happening, and I was a Ranger. I needed to be a part of the action.

“I know you felt that too,” I said, “Do the elves know what just happened?” There was a large community of elves that lived in Manattan and another in Brooklyn. Elves had been allies with the Human Empire since shortly after humanity crashed on this planet. The elves, unlike humans, could cast magic, and they had contributed heavily to our understanding in how it works. I say our, as in humanity in general. I had the principles of magic explained to me more than once in school and during training to become a Ranger. It just never made sense to me. Major Higgins looked at me and then shook his head.

“The lord is speaking with the Earl of New Town,” Higgins said, his voice still uneasy. I wish I could have known what he was feeling, but being a former Praetorian, Higgins had some strong mental defenses. “He sent two of my people down to the elven temple to see if the elves will give him a liaison. What are you going to do?”

“I am going to go get geared up,” I told him, “That was too strong of a power wave. The Army and Marines will take a while before they are ready to assist and Imperial Security only has a little over a battalion of troops in the entire city and only a company of those are on this island. They’re going to need every trained soldier that they can get their hands on.” I thought for a moment. “Is he going to call the bases?”

“That’s up to the Earl,” Higgins answered. I cursed under my breath. By long tradition, Imperial Security soldiers were under the direct command of the local aristocracy, usually the earl of the city. New Town was odd in that each of the districts had a company of Imperial Security troops assigned under each of the district lords. Although there was a big Army base in Bronx and a naval base in Brooklyn, those soldiers and marines were under direct Imperial control and couldn’t become involved unless either the earl asked for them or the Emperor directed them to become involved. It was one of those power checks that must have sounded good when the Empire was being organized, but too many of the earls thought it would make them look weak to call on imperial forces instead of relying on their own Imperial Security troops and law enforcement officers. I was a Ranger, and therefore Imperial Security, so I had no problems about becoming involved.

“Do we know where the wave originated?” I asked. I was pretty sure it was on the island, but the wave was so powerful, I couldn’t determine exactly where it could have come from. All I did know was that it had erupted somewhere in New Town, and I would have to get to where it had originated as fast as I could.

“No, but I will let you know where when we find out,” Higgins said, “Go get your gear, and tell the Keep’s armorer I said to release anything else that you need.” It was at that point that I realized the true depth of what was happening. I spent days arguing with Higgins about keeping my weapons in my room rather than the Keep’s armory. He didn’t trust me, even beyond the normal professional paranoia of a bodyguard. If he was encouraging me to take up arms, Higgins was really worried about what was happening. I wasted no time, saluted Higgins and Stephen, and raced back down to my room. I had to get ready. It was eight o’clock in the morning.

I really didn’t like wearing the body armor, but it had saved my life more than once. The main component was the flak jacket. It covered my chest and stretched down to a skirt. It was made of a lightweight, cut-resistant fabric with layers of cloth and embedded steel plates that could protect against most things that the Dark Forces or bandits could throw at me. The jacket had matching bracers and grieves, which were annoying, but would keep my limbs from being removed if I met up with a nasty orc and its battle axe. A helmet of fabric-covered steel completed my combat armor. I belted the helmet to my waist. I hated wearing the thing unless I had no other choice. Until then, the traditional black Stetson hat would stay firmly on my head. The web gear went over the combat armor with its myriad of pouches for ammunition and the various items that a soldier would need in combat. The pistol and carbine were newest Army models, specifically designed with the lessons learned in the Red Lake Campaign. The saber, on the other hand, was ancient by comparison. It had been by my side since I had first put on the silver star within a circle that proudly proclaimed me as a Ranger, and it had been by my grandfather’s side when he put on the same star and helped tame the Tam Bay sector in its infancy. I could feel a certain sense of power every time I picked up the sword, like the comforting sense that the spirits of Rangers of old were watching over me. It was a comfortable feeling. I placed the shaft of the retractable spear in its holder on my back. The regular army rifles had the spring loaded spear built into them, allowing the infantryman to keep the huge monstrosities of the Dark Towers out of lethal arm reach. Rangers carried the smaller carbine that lacked that particular feature, so we carried a retractable spear that went from a half-meter rod to a two meter pole arm with heavy brackets to keep the orcs and other things from sliding down the shaft. The point was actually one of my bayonets. They were designed to punch into a creature and stay there to keep the wound open, and were easily released. I usually had three bayonets on my person and another half dozen on my horse. I was about to head down to the stables when the phone rang on the bedside stand and Major Higgins voice filled the receiver. “It’s at the Trade Park.”

The Trade Park was an old commercial district at the south end of Manattan Island which had been rebuilt in the last ten years into a modern commercial and financial center. It held the headquarters or branches of most of the top firms in the empire, including one that belonged to my family’s firm. If the Dark Forces were attacking there, I didn’t have the time to properly saddle up my horse and ride down the island. I ran up to the roof of the Keep. As I looked to the south, I saw the three large towers of the Trade Park. I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary, but I could feel evil emanating from the towers. Gathering my strength, I took two steps and leapt off the roof.

Telekinetic flying is difficult to the untrained. I literally have to mentally lift up my own body weight and the weight of everything that I was carrying, and then constantly keep myself propelled with a wagon wheel of telekinetic energy. To do it with any type of speed requires intensive instruction, which is why the wonderful folks at the Psi-Academy train a person so hard once the instructors know the psychic has enough telekinetic strength to do it. It had taken me weeks of work before I could fly properly. It had taken weeks longer before I could do it without having to consciously maintain every small detail. This was important, because at the moment, having to concentrate on the act of flying across the city was the least of my worries. As I streaked across the sky, I began to feel the vile psi-scent of the Dark Towers coming from the Trade Park. It was strong and powerful, more than anything that I ever felt before. I tightened my hand around the pistol grip of my carbine as the tall buildings of the Trade Park loomed in front of me. The three large towers were in a triangle phalanx at the south end of the island, each topping off at twenty stories. I heard stories that humans used to construct buildings well over a hundred stories, but on this world it was difficult enough to build to fifteen stories without the constant needs of the military driving up the price of building materials and construction equipment. Running down the east and west sides of the Trade Park were several smaller buildings that surrounded a large park. The peaceful lawns and fountains looked incongruous with the Prowler armored personnel carriers parked in front and the Imperial Security soldiers milling around.

I landed with a thump, getting several weapons trained at me from nervous soldiers. Imperial Security rarely saw any heavy action this far south, so most of the troops were rarely experienced fighting against anything more than the constant goblin infestation. This was something much worse, and they knew it – and were terrified. An officer with captain’s bars appeared from the crowd and approached me as I stood up. I saluted quickly, and read his name badge. COLBERT. “Ranger Stahl, reporting for duty, sir.”

“Where did you come from Ranger?” the Captain Colbert asked. His psi-scent told me he was confused, scared, and more than a little relieved at my arrival. “Are you from the Praetorians?”

“Not on your life, sir,” I answered firmly, “I actually like being out in the field. I’ve just got some power behind me, is all. Technically I’m on leave, but I felt the power wave from whatever has infested the Trade Park and headed down here. What do you need from me, sir?” The captain seemed satisfied with my answer, and I began to see how young he was. He was probably a few years out of one of the military academies, and he was so nervous I was surprised he wasn’t trembling. I got the distinct impression from the captain’s and his lieutenants’ emotions that Colbert was new to the company.

“All right, I’ve got my company here and the Manattan district of the New Town PD is sending its Emergency Response Team down,” the captain said. “That gives me an additional platoon’s worth of armed personnel, and you. I don’t know when any other forces will be getting here.” He didn’t look happy with his forces. Neither did I. Not looking at the massive towers. I could just imagine the havoc that could be wreaked in those monoliths. Worse, we didn’t have an exact location for the Dark Towers’ forces.

“Are the elves coming?” I asked. We would need them to destroy the portal or portals that the Dark Forces had managed to open. Plus, the elves would be able to localize where the Dark Towers had opened the portals. Captain Colbert just shrugged his shoulders. I really didn’t want to do the locating myself, but I didn’t see any other option. At least not one that didn’t involve putting the Imperial Security soldiers on the pointy end of the stick. My own distaste and discomfort paled in comparison to lives being lost needlessly. “Captain, would you excuse me for a moment? I need to find out where our enemy is.” He gave me a goggled-eye nod and I walked a few meters away from the company. I closed my eyes and let my psi-senses open up fully.

The putrid psi-scents blasted through me with almost enough force to knock me off my feet. I was used to picking up forces of at least a century’s worth of orcs, but this was much worse. The Center Building and the Kromer Building burned with the scent of thousands of orcs, goblins, and hobgoblins. It was completely beyond the scope of anything I had dealt with before. This wasn’t a raid. This was an invasion.

I tore myself away from the Center and Kromer buildings to take closer looks at the rest of the Trade Park complex. With great relief, I felt none of the unique vileness of the Dark Towers emanating from the other buildings. My task completed, I pulled back my psi-senses to their normal levels. I looked up and felt the concern coming from the Imperial Security troops around me. They looked worried, and I could feel the anxiety and fear that permeated the company. I wished that I could comfort them, but what they faced was far worse than they expected. I carefully closed down my empathic senses to a manageable level and carefully walked back to Captain Colbert. I was still a little unsteady, and I didn’t want the troops to see it. It would have gone against the Ranger tradition.

“Captain, we need the Army and the Marines,” I said. I hoped that I was still living up to the stoic Ranger tradition, and I was a little scared that the gravity of what I had felt was being conveyed by my body language and tone. “We also need the elves to get down here immediately to counteract whatever magic has been used to open the portals.”

“I’ve already spoken to my battalion commander,” Colbert answered, and I could feel the frustration that was behind his words, “He’s trying to get the other companies down here from the other districts, but so far only the Queens and Brooklyn companies have departed. The Earl has refused to ask for Imperial support, and my colonel won’t discuss it further than that. As for the elves, I just don’t know. They haven’t said anything as far as battalion knows.” He was frustrated, angry, and completely lost as to handle the situation. It was just something that no one had contemplated, and therefore, no had trained for the scenario. I couldn’t comprehend why the lords and the Earl of New Town hadn’t thrown all of their resources into the growing problem, but I had to guess that they were unaware of exactly how grievous the situation was. Shaking my head, I began to focus on what could be done at the moment.

“Captain, sir, I respectfully suggest we get NTPD down here to evacuate all of the buildings except for Center and Kromer. Our enemies are in those buildings,” I began, using the famous tone of a knowledgeable subordinate respectfully ordering his not-so-knowledgeable superior to do the right things. Thankfully, Colbert was fully receptive to this and pulled his platoon leaders and sergeants into the discussion. “We need to get a message to the elves directly. Where’s the nearest temple?”

“Tenth Street, Ranger,” one of the sergeants answered, “I can have a runner there in five minutes, sir.” The sergeant directed his comments at the captain, but it was understood who the real recipient of the comments was. Colbert may have been a shiny new captain, but his officers and noncoms were obviously experienced with how operations went. They may not have had to fight anything stronger than a bunch of goblins, but they could recognize someone who had, and they would rely on my “advice” as much as they could.

“No, ask NTPD to get me one of the temple elders,” the captain answered before I could make the same suggestion. I nodded in response, and I made a mental note to mention the captain to Stephen. This man was thinking on his feet and was willing to swallow his pride to listen to the advice of a warrant officer. It was a rare combination, especially in Imperial Security units so far from the border. Too many of those unites were used as “safe” positions for well-connected officers. “Anything else, Ranger?”

“Two actually, sir,” I answered, respectfully, “First, we need to get any and all active and inactive reserves that show up organized and ready for action. Secondly, I need to get a hold of the Ranger station in Queens. That would give us a dozen Rangers, assuming they are already not on their way down.”

“You really think that reservists will show up?” asked one of the sergeants.

“They will if the captain asks for them,” I replied. The officers paled at the suggestion. A consequence of humanity’s almost constant warring with the Dark Towers was the large numbers of people who had served their obligatory tour with the military. About twenty percent of the population was on active reserve, ready to be called up to serve if needed. Another thirty percent of the population belonged to the inactive reserve. These were men and women capable of fighting, but were not current on their training. These were to be called up only in cases of extreme need. Usually, only the Ministry of Defense could call up the reserves, but there was a legal proviso allowing commissioned and warrant officers on scene to call up the local reservists to assist in a conflict. Rangers used this frequently in the field to form posses against Dark Towers and bandits. Unfortunately, with the rigid aristocratic tradition of the Imperial Security commissioned officer corps, junior officers were reluctant to do anything so audacious that might reflect poorly on their superiors’ judgment. After all, if the colonels and generals didn’t think the reservists were needed, who was a mere captain to question their exalted decision. The problem was that the colonels and generals were having their hands tied by the Earl and the lords, and Captain Colbert needed to shake things loose, or at least, get enough troops to do his job properly. There was another thing that needed to be done, but I had said enough shocking things for the officers. I would have to wait to see if I needed to go dig up more reinforcements on my own.

As our group continued speaking, New Town police began showing up in force. Cars with emergency lights blazing encircled the front of the Trade Park as four, old Hatchet APC’s drove up to where the Imperial Security soldiers were standing. Police officers in older body armor and carrying sub-machine guns climbed out of the Hatchets and began forming up ranks with military precision. The officer in charge, Lt. Horngren, watched his police officers for a moment, and then walked over to where the Imperial Security officers and sergeants and I were standing. I knew Lt. Horngren from a reception that I had attended shortly after I arrived in New Town. He and I had quickly struck up a friendly acquaintance over a long conversation at the party, and I was glad to see him. I knew he was experienced in the kind of hard fighting I was expecting from his time in the regular Army before he had joined the police force.

“Captain, Lt. Horngren, NTPD,” he introduced himself, with a casual salute, “What do you need my people to do, sir?” It was direct, professional, and exactly what was needed.

“Ranger Stahl has localized the Dark Towers in the Center and Kromer buildings,” Colbert answered. Lt. Horngren gave me a suspicious look, so I pointed to the Psi-Academy tab on my uniform. Apparently satisfied with my unspoken explanation, Horngren turned back to Colbert, who continued without any outward acknowledgement of the exchange. “I don’t know when the rest of Imperial Security is going to arrive, but we need to get those people out of those buildings. Regular NTPD can evacuate the rest of the buildings.” Colbert was definitely following Imperial Security’s mission, but I was unsure if the forces on the ground were sufficient for what he was asking.

“Captain, I understand your sense of duty to get the civilians out of harm’s way, but there’s a ton of bad guys in those buildings,” I interjected, “If you send in the troops now, I don’t think you would be able to hold against any determined attack. It would be best if we set up a perimeter around the buildings and waited for additional forces, either from Imperial Security or from the NTPD.” Horngren and the others in our huddle seemed to agree. Colbert looked northward to the growing encampment of regular police and rescue personnel. Dozens of paramedics and fire personnel were waiting to rush wounded to the local hospitals. I could see the strained anguish in the young man’s face. He turned back to us with a look of determination.

“I will take First Platoon into the Kromer building,” he stated with a tone that brooked no argument, “Lt. Alson, you will take Third Platoon into the Center building. Both platoons will advance slowly to assist any and all civilians to evacuate the buildings. Second Platoon and the ERT will assist with getting the civilians to the emergency personnel. We will withdraw to defensive positions and hold the moment we come into contact with any heavy opposition. Ranger, how powerful are you?”

“I can be very powerful Captain,” I answered without any modesty or reserve. I didn’t like his plan, but I would be damned if I didn’t help him succeed. “What do you need me to do sir?”

“For the moment, assist with the evacuation, but I want you ready to act as cavalry,” Colbert answered, “If the fighting becomes too heavy, I expect you to assist in helping my people withdraw, either to defensive positions or completely out of the buildings.” It may have sounded good, but Colbert didn’t have a clue how best to use my powers. He didn’t wait for to hear any objections and began issuing orders to his platoons.

“Lt. Horngren, we better get this rolling,” I said, looking on as the captain formed up his platoons. I had a nasty feeling I wouldn’t be seeing the captain again.

The platoons began their assaults at eight forty-five in the morning with simultaneous charges of armed Imperial Security soldiers. The Haligan tower was being evacuated as the New Town Fire-Rescue Department moved in their armored ambulances as members of the Special Emergency Units began moving into the lobbies of the Kromer and Center buildings. Horngren and I looked at each other in stunned amazement. Both of us were pretty sure that Colbert had asked Fire-Rescue to hold off its people until Imperial Security had secured large sections of the building and could begin an orderly evacuation. Horngren charged to the fire captain on scene. Lt. Golf, commander of Second Platoon, watched in amazement as Horngren began yelling at the fire captain to pull his people out until Imperial Security cleared the building. The fire captain began yelling back at the lieutenant, and although the volume was rather impressive, they were still too far for me to make out any of the words. The emotions from both men were spiking hard with anger and righteous indignation. Both of them were still arguing when the fighting began.

There was almost simultaneous reports of contact with orcs from both First and Third platoons. First platoon reported numerous orcs on the eighth floor while Third platoon hit a force of orcs and goblins around the seventh floor. Lt. Horngren and the fire captain were still yelling at each other and Lt. Golf looked at a loss of what to do. The radioman, better known as an RTO (radio-telephone operator), of Second platoon looked at me with a pleading look. I straightened my shoulders and looked at the soldiers and police officers. It was time to go to work.

“Second Platoon, form up for entrance on the Kromer!” I bellowed, “ERT, form up for entrance on the Center. Sergeants, have your men mount bayonets! Handlers, have your animals ready for combat!” The soldiers reacted with surprising alacrity. They may have never thought they would actually be called upon to use their skills, but they were ready to do so. The police officers raggedly followed suit. ERT was used to dealing with dangerous humans. The most inhuman thing they fought was the occasional aborigine that got out of hand or goblin that had attacked a human. Fighting orcs was beyond their normal operations. I would have to lead them if the lieutenant didn’t get finished with his disagreement with the fire captain. I didn’t have to worry. Apparently, my bellowed commands were enough to end the argument.

“Thank you Ranger,” Lt. Horngren said as he walked up to me. He looked at the two platoons, “Lt. Golf, please have your men begin their assault on Kromer. My men, we will assault Center. We are going to relieve the others and help extricate the wounded. Ranger, would you please await the rest of the forces?” I hated when members of the aristocracy reverted to their overly-polite speech. It was patronizing and usually completely out of place, such as now. I also didn’t want them to go into those buildings without me. I had fought more orcs and goblins than any of the soldiers or police sweating in front of the towers.

“You are going to need me,” I told Lt. Horngren, “I can fight better than any of your people.” Horngren just shook his head. I thought Horngren was going to be a better officer, but he was reverting to that aristocratic foolish officer that I had evaded for most of my professional life. He would go charging into those buildings, his men would follow, and all of them would die because they wouldn’t know what they were going up against. Horngren turned away from me and began leading his men into the Center Building. Lt. Golf gave me a helpless, humorless smile as he walked over to his platoon and led them into the Kromer building. I began cursing under my breath as I watched the soldiers and police officers storm into the towers. I was pretty sure that I wouldn’t see any of them again unless I got into those buildings and saved them myself. Arrogant, maybe, but I knew what I was capable of handling.

“Ranger?” a gruff voice asked me from behind, “Are you handling us?” The man standing before me was about my height with dark brown hair and even darker eyes, and maybe twenty years my senior. He was dressed in a well-tailored blue suit that had been slightly torn and tattered from the evacuation of the towers.

“Evacuees are being handled by NTFD,” I said, shaking my head.

“I don’t think you understand, Ranger,” the man said, straightening up and firing off a quick salute, “Sergeant First-Class Jeffries, inactive reserve.” I gave him a closer inspection. He was older, but he was in shape. His emotions showed that he was calm and confident. He reminded me of Chief Ward, the senior warranted Ranger in Tam Bay. I guessed Jefferies had probably been a top kick before he left the service. He would definitely be an asset in getting whatever reservists showed up to help.

“Okay Sarge, what weapons do you have?” I asked, returning the salute.

“Just a sidearm sir,” Jeffries answered, “There’s a reservist armory a few blocks away. I know the guys on duty over there. Their commanding officer was a butterbar with me.” I grinned at the sergeant’s comment. For all the lofty, aristocratic notions that many of the officers in the armed forces affected, all of them had a fondness for the noncoms that helped guide them in their early years. Many forged relationships that endured far beyond their careers in the military.

“Good, as soon as we get some more here, I’ll send you to go get our weapons,” I told him, “Hopefully the earl will get the regulars in here before that.”

“Not likely, sir,” Jeffries replied, “The earl’s been in a pride fight with the Imperial Cabinet. He’s going to want his own forces to handle this without involving the regulars.” There were days I really hated the aristocratic parts of my government. I knew that the founders had a reason for setting up a nobility after the Crash, but I couldn’t wrap my mind around it. It was kind of like studying magic – I knew that it worked, but I couldn’t understand the underlying principles. “I know of some more inactives on my floor and a couple of others. Request permission to round them up?”

“Go to it, Sarge, break a few arms,” I answered. Jeffries gave me that peculiar noncom smile and left with that calm alacrity that they must teach in sergeants’ school. I listened on the radio as ERT and Second platoon made contact. The voices on the radio were confident as they made contact. Then came the panic as they realized exactly how many creatures had been ported in. Automatic weapons could scythe down orc after orc - at least as long as the magazine still held bullets. Then the full force of the Dark Towers hundred-to-one force disparity would come crashing down. Artillery, vehicle-mounted heavy weapons, grenades, specially-bred attack dogs, and the occasional psychic usually allowed Imperial forces to overcome the disparity. In the close confines of an office tower filled with civilians, the only thing that would keep the force disparity from hammering down on them would be the intensive small unit tactics training that the military rigorously enforced, including fire discipline. The Imperial Security soldiers might have had some training, but I was very certain that the ERT officers didn’t possess that kind of training. It wasn’t a slight to them, but at the end of the day, the ERT were police officers, not soldiers. It started to show as I listened to the RTOs report. The soldiers couldn’t keep up with waves of orcs and smaller goblins. How had the Dark Towers ported in so many of their forces? I was going to need more help than some reservists. I just hoped that I wouldn’t have to ask for help from the Praetorians. They had a superiority complex that made them almost impossible to work with. Powerful, yes, but I would rather work with soldiers that would listen to me rather than dismiss me because I wasn’t a part of their unit.

I knew that two more Imperial Security companies were on their way, as well as the Rangers in Queens. Their arrival times were anywhere from thirty minutes to two hours. The bridges onto Manattan were clogged with people fleeing. New Town hadn’t seen a raid in over fifty years, much less something of this size. The population didn’t know how to handle themselves and were in panic. Complacency was always a dangerous thing in a city’s population. The reservists were all I had, and from the trickle that Jeffries was dragging in, I would be lucky to form a platoon. As soon as I had a squad, I sent them under a reservist corporal to fetch weapons and armor.

“Warrant, may I speak with you?” asked a voice from behind. From the psi-scent, it was the fire-rescue captain that Horngren had been arguing with earlier. I turned to face the officer. He had obviously come up in the ranks from the scars that covered his forearms and neck. “What are you doing?”

“What’s your problem captain?” I asked. I could tell from the emotions raging in the man that there was something substantial that was bothering him.

“I’ve got my best people in those buildings while there’s a raging firefight happening,” he told me like he would one of his subordinates, “I don’t like that one bit. I want protection for my people.” I could see his point. Even his special teams wouldn’t stand a chance against orcs. A few reservists with automatic weapons would allow the fire-rescue personnel more time to save civilians.

“Weren’t you asked to keep your people out until we could provide that protection?” I asked as I watched Jeffries distribute rifles and body armor to the waiting reservists. Most of them were scared and hesitant, but they did it just the same.

“Okay, yeah,” the fire captain answered, “There’s too many civilians in there for my department to ignore. Civilians have a nasty tendency to get into the line of fire in a fight like that, and your people can’t deal with them and the baddies. You need my people in there to help.” He had a point, and he had the Special Emergency Units that proved he wasn’t being foolish about whom he sent in to deal with the crisis. I made a quick decision.

“I’ll have my soldiers move in as soon as we’re formed up,” I told him, “We’ll see about setting up a barrier between the fighting and your people.” The fire captain thanked me and left me to handle the details. He was obviously used to having subordinates that could think and work by themselves. My initial opinion of the fire captain had changed dramatically. “Sergeant Jeffries!”

“Yes sir,” answered the sergeant from where he was holding an assault rifle for another man who was stripping out of a business suit. As soon as the reservist had hastily donned the web gear at his feet, the sergeant handed him the weapon and walked over to where I was standing. “Sorry sir, its taking a bit longer to get the troops sorted than I had expected.”

“Sergeant, we’ve got about a platoon, right?”

“About that, sir,” Jeffries answered, “Maybe a bit more.” I filled the sergeant on what the fire captain had told me and my plans. The reservist sergeant mulled it over in his head as he watched two corporals he had found get the reservists in some semblance of order. “Can’t say I like it much, but I see what you and the fire captain are talking about. I think we can get about two reinforced squads each. I’ll make sure that you and I each have an RTO and at least one SAW gunner.”

“Are we really going to need machine guns in those buildings?” I asked. I had never fought a battle in a building like those, but I had done some urban warfare work. Machine guns could make small corridors and narrow streets into death traps, but with the short confines of the office buildings, I was worried that the SAWs wouldn’t be able to keep the enemies at distance.

“I’d rather have them and not need them,” the sergeant answered, “Especially if we might have to protect working medics from waves of orcs or goblins.” It made sense, so I just nodded. Jeffries would have the squads squared away in good time. It took less than ten minutes and we had about fifty outfitted reservists ready to assault the buildings. It wasn’t much, but it was going to be the best I could get. Time was running out to get this fight under some kind of control. I had two squads under a Corporal Reeves, who seemed as if he had gotten out of the military maybe six months previously. Private Jones was my RTO, although I had a nasty feeling that he was going to have a hard time keeping up with me once we made contact with the enemy forces. Jones looked like it had been ten years or so since he had last put on his uniform. I was just going to have to make do with what I had.

“Jeffries, get your squads into Kromer,” I ordered the sergeant, “You are to protect the paramedics and help any civilians as well as provide a secure line of retreat for Imperial Security. Do not go charging off to fight the bad guys. That’s what the Imperial Security troopers are for.” The sergeant nodded and promptly wheeled to get his reservists moving. “Corporal, get these squads moving.” As Jeffries and his troops moved into Kromer, I ordered my reservists to do a simple assault entrance. It was sloppy and there had been some nasty holes in their securing of the lobby, but it reinforced my faith in the reservist system. Twenty former soldiers who last put on a uniform anywhere between six months and twenty years ago and who had never trained with each other managed to perform a cohesive maneuver with less than twenty minutes preparation. The lobby had been turned into an impromptu triage for the wounded civilians by the paramedics. Those civilians who were okay or just lightly wounded were being directed to the waiting NTPD officers. The critically injured were being carried into the armored ambulances or carried on stretchers to ambulances outside of the building.

The lobby of the Center Building was a large open-air area that took up the first three floors of the building. Four grand marble staircases led up to the third floor. Small shops and boutiques lined the walls of the lobby. Corporal Reeves already had two-man fire teams on the staircases trying to secure them. It was a smart move – those stairwells were natural bottlenecks and a defensive boon. Any bad guys that tried to assault them would find it very messy and very expensive. The rest of the reservists were broken into two-man units and placed in covered positions that would allow them to provide fire support to the stairwells or cover the paramedics. I looked over to Reeves. “You worked in this building.”

“Yes sir,” he answered flatly, observing the reservists moving into position, “I worked for the Kolson group on the fifth floor. I mapped out defensive positions the first week that I had begun working here.” I clapped the corporal on the shoulder. It was a shame that the military had let go of such a bright junior non-com, but I was glad to have him.

“Okay Corporal, carry on,” I told him, “Make sure that your fire teams on the stairs are ready to help the civilians evacuate.” I had watched as a steady trickle of people came down the stairs and through the lobby to the waiting paramedics. Reeves nodded, and I decided to let the man work the section. He didn’t need my help, and I had other things to do. “Jones! Get over here!”

“Yes Ranger?” puffed Jones as he hustled over to where I was standing. The out of shape reservist was struggling to keep up, but he was determined.

“What’s Horngren’s and Alson’s positions?” I asked. Jones looked down at a small memo pad. He may have been out of the service for a long while, but at least he remembered the important parts, like writing down all the information that I would need.

“Lt. Alson is still on the seventh floor, but I think he’s surrounded and cut off, Ranger,” Jones answered, “Lt. Horngren is on fifth and in heavy contact with the enemy.” Heavy contact meant forces at least three times stronger than his own. Horngren was about to be overrun. I looked over the reservists as they continued to move into positions under the direction of Corporal Reeves.

“Okay, go tell Reeves that I’ve got to go help them upstairs and that he is to follow the same orders that I gave Sergeant Jeffries. You’re to stay with Corporal Reeves.” Jones saluted and walked over to where Reeves was barking orders to some of the soldiers. I knew that if Alson’s and Horngren’s people were to make it out alive, I would have to directly intervene. Checking the action on my carbine, I telekinetic lifted myself up to the third floor and entered into the main hallway. The sudden appearance of a psychic in military garb was enough for most people to open a hole for me to rush into the upper levels of the Center building. The few that didn’t were pushed out of the way. I wasn’t trying to be callous, but there were soldiers’ lives at stake. The third and fourth floors were clogged with civilians trying to get out of the building. I didn’t blame them because I could clearly hear the sharp barks of submachine gun fire from above. I was wrong about those police officers. The ERT were demonstrating some heavy fire discipline from the sound of the continuous short bursts. As I left the fourth floor and entered the fifth floor, the nature of the battle became evident. The police officers had made an impromptu fortification at the top of the main emergency stairwell and had branched out to seize nearby offices. Corpses of goblins and orcs were piled where they had fallen to the gunfire from the ERT. I found Horngren taking cover behind what had been an executive’s expensive desk. He had taken an arrow to the shoulder, but he was still directing his people in the fight. I landed next to him and his RTO.

“I told you that you would need help,” I commented to Horngren as I crouched up and fired my carbine at a hobgoblin with a bow. Unlike their immature cousins, hobgoblins were smart and frighteningly accurate with ranged weaponry, such as bows and crossbows. The creature’s midsection was torn apart by the rifle caliber round and the hobgoblin crumpled to the ground. “Have you been in contact with Third Platoon?”

“I beg your pardon Ranger,” Horngren replied with an appalled tone to his voice, “I believe I ordered you—“

“I don’t have time for this Lieutenant,” I said with a snarl, “In case you haven’t figured it out, this isn’t a simple raid. There’s more orcs and goblins here than we’ve seen in a single border raid since the end of Red Lake. We need to get whatever is left of Third Platoon down here and form a strong blocker until the cavalry arrives.” I knew what I was doing amounted to insubordination, but I didn’t have time to really wonder about the consequences. If the ERT and Third Platoon didn’t link up and form a better blocking position, both of them would be wiped out. A small flurry of arrows thunked into the overturned desk. Horngren didn’t look convinced, but his RTO certainly did.

“Limited contact with Third Platoon, Ranger,” the RTO answered crisply over the echoing sounds of weapons fire and the eerie howling of the goblins, “I think Lt. Alson is dead, and the rest of them are holed up in one of the office suites on the seventh floor.” I rose up just above the desk to find an orc trying to charge. A burst to its head threw the orc to the ground. Its battleaxe fell out of its hand and cut down a goblin as the weapon slammed to the ground. Sometimes you just got lucky.

“I’m going to try and get up to Third,” I told Horngren, “When I make contact, I’ll rally them and get them down here. Have your people be ready to cover us when we return.” Horngren looked disgusted, but he nodded. I slithered out from the cover of the desk and ran crouched to the stairwell fortification. The ERT officers had used whatever materials they could find to build some firing positions for the goblins that had tried coming down the stairwell. There was something wrong with this attack. I knew that the Dark Towers forces in the building numbered well into the thousands. They should have been able to overwhelm the police officers with waves of goblins and orcs. Instead they only sent a few hundred at the ERT. I needed to get upstairs, find Third Platoon, and maybe figure out what the creatures were up to.

The massive telekinetic blast cleared the small chattering goblins from the stairwell. Goblins weren’t very sturdy creatures to begin with. Being thrown against a concrete wall sent most of them into unconsciousness and killed a few more. The few that were still awake were quickly cut down by police fire. I didn’t wait. I threw up a shield and ran up the stairs. I bypassed the sixth floor without incident, although I was seriously tempted to start my own little firefight. From what I glimpsed, it was just as well that I didn’t. There wasn’t anything that I could do on my own to stop the wholesale slaughter of civilians, not against that many opponents – but it still bothered me. The landing onto the seventh floor was being guarded by a pair of veteran orcs. They held their weapons with the easy grace of a warrior that had seen the carnage many times before. I was actually glad about that. From what humans had learned over the years, the majority of the orc forces were made up of barely trained warriors with little to no experience in fighting humans. Veterans were uncommon, and therefore, gorgeous targets. Especially when they weren’t expecting the attack.

The first the two orcs knew that they were under attack was when a burst from my carbine exploded the head of the left hand orc. Its companion wasted no time in dropping down into a crouch and looking for me. It spotted me as I was readjusting my aim. A huge knife whistled through the air at me. The blade would have done a good job of skewering my guts if I hadn’t deflected it with my bracer. I ignored the flash of pain from the knife’s impact as the orc leapt at me, its battleaxe swinging as it closed the distance between us. I slammed it to the stairs with a short telekinetic blast. Of all the things the orc had been expecting me to do, that wasn’t one of them. It tried to shake the disorientation off, but I didn’t give it the time. I just placed a single round to the bridge of its nose. As the lifeless body of the orc settled on the stairs, I rushed past. I needed to get up before the landing was reinforced. As I entered the main hallway on the seventh floor, I could hear the mix of screeching howls, bellowing yells, and automatic weapons. Third Platoon might have been surrounded and unable to extract, but they were definitely making sure that the Dark Towers paid a heavy price. Unfortunately, the Dark Towers had plenty of orcs and goblins to spend. I felt a sudden wave of nausea and was nearly eviscerated by a small group of goblins. The things weren’t more than a hundred and twenty centimeters tall, but they were strong. A telekinetic blast sent them flying from me. I only saw the arrow as it bounced off the sudden wall of psychic energy. Briefly ignoring the goblins, I placed a burst at the hobgoblin down the hall. The creature dropped, as did the orc standing behind him. Normally the danger of overpenetration was why urban Imperial Security soldiers and police forces carried submachine guns. In this mess of a melee, it was a blessing. Another wave of sickness flowed through me. Something was happening. Something that involved magic.

I kept my shield around me as I followed the sounds of the weapons fire. It was slow going, mostly because I had to stop to deal with the enormous numbers of orcs and goblins clogging the narrow hallways. I was forced to sling my carbine. Most of the fighting was pistol and saber work. The sharp edge of the saber neatly opened orc vitals while the pistol easily knocked down the goblins. It may have sounded like a backward way to fight my enemies, but there was a method to my madness. My pistol wouldn’t take down an orc in one shot, but it had no problem with punching a lethally big hole in a goblin. The saber, on the hand, could hack a big enough chunk out of an orc to lay it out with minimal effort. All that said, it was slow and bloody work – and it was using up a lot of my psychic strength. By the time I actually reached the edges of where Third Platoon had holed up, I was hurt, tired, and bleeding. Nothing immediately lethal, but with just enough pain to keep me feeling very uncomfortable.

The hallway leading into the section that Third Platoon had fortified was clogged with the bodies of fallen orcs and goblins. Hobgoblins were maybe five meters from me, firing arrows at the soldiers as fast as they could pull their bowstrings. Dozens of orcs and goblins were scrambling over the corpses of their dead in an attempt to rush the soldiers’ position. I holstered the pistol and reached into one of the pouches on my web gear. I pulled out the baseball-sized orb and pressed the heavy trigger. With an easy motion, I tossed the orb towards the hobgoblins.

“FIRE IN THE HOLE!” I screamed as loudly as I could. Goblins and orcs turned at my sudden shout, and found themselves staring into the grenade’s explosion. The hallway shuddered and thundered with the deafening explosion. Hot metal fragments lanced through the air, rending the vulnerable fleshy creatures with contemptuous ease. Dust and pulverized gore filled the air and then began to settle. I could feel the human emotions at the end of the hall, but there were none of the vile psi-scents of the Dark Towers in front of me. At least, none living. I trotted through the hallway with my shield up. I didn’t want to get shot by those I came to help. Most of the soldiers were still huddled behind their fragment-laced fortifications. Using a fragmentation grenade in the close confines of a building was generally frowned on because it had the nasty tendency to cause just as many friendly casualties as enemy casualties. The soldiers in front of me were radiating relief and anger as I emerged from the smoke in the hallway. I leapt over their hasty fortifications and found myself in front of a very upset platoon sergeant.

“What was that?” he half screamed at me before he saw who I was and belated added, “Ranger.” I could see two soldiers with fragment wounds. I didn’t want to wound anyone, but I needed to clear that hallway. I was about to answer when a wave of sickness hit me strong enough to knock me off my feet. A deep thrumming began in my head, like someone was piping a kettle drum directly to the base of my skull. The platoon sergeant loomed over me with a concerned look on his face. “Ranger, are you wounded sir? I can get my medic over here.”

I motioned for him to give me a moment. The thrumming was familiar. I had felt it before, but it wasn’t in New Town. It was back in Tam Bay. My mind raced as it pushed through the haze of nausea and mental noise. The connection was made as the floor itself began rumbling. I had felt this before – right before the Dark Towers opened a portal. The thrumming that time had been like a deep sounding mosquito. This one was much, much worse. The floor shook and some tiles fell from the ceiling. “RADIO!”

The soldier holding the radio pack wasn’t Third Platoon’s RTO. He still managed the bulky device without a problem. I grabbed the heavy handset and told the soldier to open it up for a wide broadcast.

“Everyone in the Kromer and Center Buildings, evacuate immediately!” I yelled into the handset, “Get out! Get out! Save as many as you can before—“ There was a flash of light, and I felt a force pick me up and toss me through the office complex and out a window. The last thing I remember seeing was the giant white disk of energy that appeared between the Kromer and Center buildings just before the two monoliths shattered. Shattered like giant glass vases. Then the blackness took over.

I woke up to a bright light in my eye. The light was quickly removed, but the ghost of the light made it impossible for me to see what was going on. I felt many people around me, and they were all relieved and anxious at the same time. I could pick out the psi-scents of Stephen and my mother, as well as a few other familiar ones that I knew from the Keep. I was laying on something firm, but cushioned. It had to be a hospital bed, but I knew that I wasn’t in a hospital. The psi-scents around me were too different. I tried to speak, but my mouth didn’t want to work at first.

A doctor hovered over me, checking over my body. I hurt all over, but I knew I needed to sit up and move. The doctor tried to put a restraining hand on me, but a man in an Imperial Security uniform and colonel’s sigils on his epaulets stopped him. I could feel that the colonel was worried about me, but not in the same way that my mother and Stephen were worrying. He needed something from me.

“How long have I been out?” I managed to ask after a nice nurse gave me a swallow of bitter water.

“A little over two hours Ranger Stahl,” the colonel answered, “How are you feeling?” From his emotions, he wanted to know if I was still functional, or if I was going to be unable to continue. That meant that the battle was still going on. I took a mental inventory. Using delicate psychic touches, I probed my body. I was bruised, I had a small fracture in my left arm, and my powers were still recovering from the abuse they had taken. I could also feel that they had just become much stronger, but it was going to take a few long months to fully incorporate all their new strength. Just the way it worked.

“I can manage, sir,” I answered as I stood up. The doctor, the nurses, and Stephen all made to rush in to catch me. I knew that I could stand, and the look on my face must have told them as much because they stopped as quickly as they started. “What’s the situation, sir?” The colonel was skeptical, but he didn’t let any of it show on his face.

“Are you good to go, or are you just being a Ranger?” he asked with a tone that brooked no argument. He knew of our institutional tenacity and the tendency to ignore even serious wounds if it meant continuing on in our duty. Rangers Do Not Give Up.

“I am good to fight, colonel,” I answered, “Where do you need me?” He nodded to me and pulled out a map. The others in the room were shocked that the two of us just ignored their presence, but the colonel and I had better things to worry about.

“The Kromer and Center towers were destroyed when the Dark Towers used them to open a portal like no one had ever seen before,” the colonel told me, “Even the elves hadn’t seen the like before, but they have managed to shut it down – at the cost of over a hundred of their lives. The Kaligan tower was actually toppled into the harbor. Most of the other buildings were demolished by the portal opening. As it stands, we have nearly ten thousand orcs and nearly twice that number in goblins and hobgoblins semi-contained to the remains of the Trade Park. I finally have the remaining Imperial Security troops here, as well as every police officer that NTPD could spare and every reservist on the island of Manattan.”

“The Rangers?” I asked. The local Rangers would be probably where I would go.

“I have them spread out,” the colonel answered, “The reservists are enlisted heavy, and I don’t have enough officers to lead the reservist units. It’s got to the point I have cadets from the local military academies leading some of the platoons.” I must have had a shocked look on my face, because the colonel quickly assuaged my concerns. “Don’t worry Ranger, I have tried to make sure that the children have decent sergeants to keep them in check, but I’m running short of bodies. The lines have more or less stabilized, but we are taking heavy casualties. If we keep up this attrition, the orcs will break out in less than two hours’ time.”

“With all due respect, sir, but where the devil is the Army and Marines?” I almost yelled. The colonel was annoyed at my slight insubordination, but he didn’t seem to begrudge my sentiment. He didn’t answer me, but just looked over at Stephen. There was a streak of shame running through Stephen, and I didn’t like what that bode.

“The earl still refuses to allow the regular armed forces to engage,” Stephen answered, “The lords of Brooklyn, Bronx, and Queens have all more or less demanded him to release the regular forces. It has taken everything we’ve had just to get the earl to order all Imperial Security and spare police forces down here. I had to call up the reserves, and we’re fighting to get the rest of the city’s reservists here.” I thought about the problem for a brief moment. The colonel wasn’t wrong in his analysis. Imperial Security didn’t have any artillery, and very few of the vehicle-mounted heavy weapons that were needed to fight the grinding battle that was raging at the Trade Park. The police had even less in the way of heavy weapons. They were probably fighting with patrol carbines and sidearms. We needed the Army, Navy, and Marines’ full fighting force. Until the earl grew some political courage or the Emperor got off his butt and intervened, the main thing that we needed was additional troops. The colonel saw that I was working through something in my mind, and he gave me the space to finish my thoughts. I knew what needed to be done, but no one was going to like it.

“Stephen, you’re going to have to come with me,” I told him, much the same way I spoke to wayward free town residents. It was the infamous Ranger Voice – a mix of threat, command, and inspiration. It took years to perfect it, but when used properly, it could quell a riot. “Colonel, I think that I can get you some more forces, but you may not like it.”

“THIS IS RIDICULOUS!” my mother screeched over our conversation, “Dear God Eric, you just fell seven stories and somehow managed to survive the destruction of three skyscrapers where everyone else died. Now, you’re just to scamper off on some other adventure with my husband?” I could feel how close to emotionally breaking my mother was. I knew she was an inconsequential psychic, which was why it was always hard for me to read her until her emotions flared. Right now, she was an emotional pyrotechnic display. I did something that I never thought I would ever do. I slapped her.

“Get something through your head,” I said to her shocked face, “I am an Imperial Ranger. WE DO NOT GIVE UP! I will not allow any of those people out there die if I can do anything about it. I can, but I need Stephen’s help. Even if this idea doesn’t work, then I will be out there fighting. That is my duty.” She looked at me and then broke into tears.

“My God, you are so much your father’s son,” she sobbed, “I don’t think a Stahl could turn his back on his duty if Jesus Christ, himself, asked you to.” An old wound that I thought had scarred over opened back up. My mother rarely spoke of my father, but there was always such a unique tone to her voice when she did. She looked at me with a harsh look to her face. “Why do you need my husband?”

“Negotiation.”

Major Higgins had to be physically restrained when he found out that he and his people would not be accompanying Stephen and me. I didn’t blame him one bit, but the art of supplication had its rules. The supplicant didn’t bring his army into the lair of the supplicator. I was the facilitator – my presence would be necessary. Plus, I had negotiated with these folks before, sort of. My armor had been badly mangled, but the colonel managed to find some replacements. My saber had been recovered when I had been rescued, and it was a comforting weight on my left hip. The slung carbine and holstered pistol were borrowed from the Keep’s armory. Higgins had given them to me himself. Stephen was similarly equipped and armored, but I doubted he would know what to do with the sword at his side. I had seen him fence before, but there was a huge difference between fencing and sword-fighting. You’re not trying to kill someone when you’re fencing.

We left the command post and walked across Central Boulevard, the huge road that ran north to south like a spine for Manattan. I had sensed them while I was still in the command post. It was surprising that they were watching the events unfold. It was my task to get them involved. Which was going to be difficult enough.

“Just who are we negotiating with?” Stephen asked as we crossed the empty road, “The elves and the mafia are already helping us.” Somehow the idea of gangsters helping out the police and Imperial Security forces that normally persecuted the thugs was amusing, but I wasn’t surprised. The mafia had often showed up with their shooters when the city’s goblins got rambunctious. From what I had learned, there was some sort of “gentlemen’s agreement” that mafia shooters would be able to assist in the fight against the Dark Towers, and the police wouldn’t arrest any of the shooters at the scene. Afterwards, all bets were off. The problem was that the mafia shooters would not have the training to effectively fight the massive amounts of orcs and goblins at the Trade Park. I knew who would.

“We need to talk with the Stone Walkers,” I answered, and awaited the inevitable eruption.

“You’re having me talk to the RATS?!” he almost yelled, “They’re nothing more than a nuisance and petty criminals. They cause almost as much problems as the few goblin clans that infest the city.”

“Stephen, do us all a favor and shut up for a moment,” I said harshly as I whirled on him, “You arrogant aristocrat! You never once tried to talk with the aborigines in your city. Do you have any idea why a nomadic group such as the aborigines would willingly live in this stinking metropolis? They can’t hunt, and the humans here refuse to seriously trade with them. Yet they’re still here. Why?” Stephen blazed with anger at my effrontery.

“Okay, so enlighten me in your superior knowledge that you got out of some wise woman,” Stephen answered derisively. My biggest contentions with Stephen was his firm belief that those who lived in the “civilized” sectors of the Empire were far superior to the simple people who lived north of the Pearl River, and his refusal to learn any of the “common” things that people who did live north of the Pearl River learned when they were children. Part of that was the true nature of the aborigines.

The aborigines were a nonhuman nomadic race of hunter-gatherers that were sometimes allies and sometimes enemies. They stood an average of a meter and half tall, but were easily a hundred kilos of furry muscle. They had the flat face of a cat, the muscular build of a dog, and the long whip tail of a rat. They were social animals like dogs, stealthy hunters like cats, and incredible foragers like rats. They could also be the most infuriating creatures on the entire continent. Normally, the aborigines stayed out of the cities, keeping their tribes on the vast plains between human settlements. The exception to this was the Stone Walkers. They weren’t a tribe, they were a religious movement. Sometime before I was born, a prophet began preaching a more active in helping the humans remove the Dark Towers from the continent. The Prophet believed that it was the aborigines’ duty to help destroy any Dark Towers forces. Since the tribal elders refused to band together, and the humans refused to properly teach and arm the aborigines (the aborigines did have a tendency to raid human settlements if they were in the mood), the Stone Walkers came into the cities to rid them of the invariable goblin infestations. It was an odd philosophy, and I didn’t understand all of the ins-and-outs of the Stone Walkers. These days, only the outcasts and true believers left their tribes to join the Stone Walkers. The rest of the aborigine tribes shunned what they considered outlandish “cultists.” I explained all of this to Stephen, who seemed to grudgingly accept that the aborigines weren’t quite the scourge he had made them out to be.

The Stone Walker spy was caught off guard. Aborigines tended to get overconfident in their stalking abilities. They really are good, but Rangers learned a lot over their institutional life that even seasoned aborigine warriors knew better than to ambush us. The spy had been living in the city for too long. He never suspected that I was aware of his presence until I psychically reached out and snatched him. It took a moment before the aborigine was coherent enough to listen to me. “Go find your Reverend. Tell him that Lord Manattan wants to negotiate an alliance.”

“An alliance?” Stephen asked, his eyes agog at my command to the now quickly disappearing aborigine, “Just what are you getting me into?”

“I’m helping you do your duty,” I retorted shortly, “Aborigines have been fighting orcs and goblins since before humans crashed down on this world. They are vicious and ruthless warriors. They are just what we need to help not only stabilize the line, but maybe push it back. They won’t, though, do it out of the goodness of their heart, or they would have been fighting already. You are going to have to ask for their help, and maybe make some concessions in order to have them fight.” Stephen didn’t say anything after that. He just stood there and looked down the alley in a sightless stare. His emotions were swirling with confusion and anxiety. I leaned against one of the walls and waited. The aborigines would show up, but how fast would depend on the Reverend. I hadn’t met any of the Stone Walkers before, so I didn’t know when—

“You are a Ranger?” asked a voice from above, “Rangers are good. This may be good.” The Reverend was naked with the exception of a pair of dirty, tattered cotton shorts that served as a loin cloth and a dirty preacher’s collar. He was being escorted by three other aborigines who were dressed in tattered clothing. All of them crawled down from the outside of one of the buildings. They looked unarmed, but knowing aborigines, I heavily doubted that.

“Yes, I am a Ranger,” I answered, “I’ve worked with the Stone Bone and Swift Wind tribes as well as the Jagged Knife tribe. I’m here to help Lord Manattan.” I motioned to Stephen who stepped forward. “He needs your help.”

“Yes, many bad things,” the Reverend answered. Then he made the high-pitched clicking sound that I recognized as the aborigine name for the orcs. “Stone Walkers been taking care of the small ones. Many, many small ones.” The Reverend gave me a twisted grin that I had seen on other aborigines. The goblins in the city were trying to link up with the Dark Towers forces in the Trade Park. The Stone Walkers had spent the morning killing them. I returned a knowing smile.

“We need you to help us kill the big ones,” I said, “Lots and lots of big ones at the big fight.” The echoing sounds of weapons fire and howling screams added proof to my statement. “I really don’t have time to go through the normal trade talkings. What will it take for the Stone Walkers to join the battle?” The Reverend gave me another of his twisted smiles and pointed at Stephen.

“You must make nice with Stone Walkers,” the Reverend stated, “We do lots of good works here, but humans still thinks we are bad. This is not good. If you want us to fight big ones, we need guns and swords. Not sending Stone Walkers to die simply because you ask.” Stephen’s emotions erupted in indignation, so I turned to him and gave him an evil look. I knew the idea of handing weapons over to the Stone Walkers horrified him – after all, he still thought the aborigines as little more than savage rodents that were only slightly more preferable to having the goblins that infested his city. Stephen understood that wasn’t true in an intellectual sense, but his emotional responses hadn’t changed. Still, being a politician, he was able to keep his face neutral at the suggestion.

“We can give you guns and swords for the fight, but we can’t let you keep them afterwards,” I told the Reverend, “Lord Manattan can order his police and ask his residents to no longer harm you and yours, but humans will not want Stone Walkers with guns and swords.”

“I will let you keep the swords,” Stephen interjected, his voice full of his aristocratic command tone, “But I warn you, if you use those weapons against humans in any illegal act, I will confiscate all of them and I will hang the ones that attacked my subjects.” He looked the Reverend dead in the eye, which he couldn’t know was normally considered a leadership challenge amongst the aborigines. “The Stone Walkers have provided my subjects with some protection against the goblins. For that, I will give you better tools. But, the Stone Walkers have attacked and stolen from my subjects. This will stop immediately. We will work out some payment for your services so that the Stone Walkers may trade.”

“Then we will fight,” the Reverend said with a solemnity that I had heard before. Stephen didn’t know it, but he had just become the leader of the Stone Walkers in New Town. I was going to have some fun explaining what just happened to him. That would be much later.

I wondered how it looked in the command center when the aborigines joined the battle. It had taken nearly an hour to gather the some three hundred Stone Walkers on Manattan Island and hand out weapons and ammunition to the warriors. During that time, the human line had begun crumbling on the west side. The reservists on the west corner were all inactive reservists and had begun running low on ammunition. Leading the reservists were cadets from the New Town Military Institute, and the unblooded cadets ordered a slowing of fire to conserve ammunition. It sounded good in theory, but any veteran knows that slackening in the fire would allow the Dark Forces to charge through and carry the battle to close quarters. This is considered something akin to suicide. Humans have no business going close quarters with orcs or even goblins unless there is no other option. The inactive reservists and their green officers were unprepared for the rush of orcs and were fighting a desperate fight in close quarters. The orcs were threatening to breach the line and flank the humans.

Then came three hundred screeching Stone Walkers into the fray. Humans may have no business fighting in close quarters with orcs, but aborigines excelled at it. Throw in human swords and guns and the Stone Walkers became an unleashed storm of destruction against the Dark Towers. Moreover, goblins had a unique fear of the aborigines. The goblins fighting with the orcs broke and fled as soon as they heard the unique screeching howl of the aborigine battle cry. Thus, a desperate fight just to hold the line rapidly became a rout of the Dark Towers. The Stone Walkers pushed the orcs and goblins back in a relentless torrent of gunfire and sword strokes. Behind the Stone Walkers, myself and two other Rangers managed to reform the shattered human forces. As Rangers, we knew that the Stone Walkers had bought us some time, but the aborigines would quickly push too far and hit a mass of Dark Towers that they couldn’t break. Great fighters, the aborigines were, but not so good on larger scale tactics. We needed to be ready to cover the retreat of the Stone Walkers and the rushing wave of orcs that would be chasing them.

The reservists and the cadets were terrified at the prospect of having to do battle with the orcs again. I could feel the fear amongst the soldiers, and I knew that the line would break if the orcs managed to close again to close quarters. Our only hope was that the aborigines would stand with the humans and not continue their retreat. Knowing how aborigines fought, it was a slim hope at best. They were terrifying warriors, but not very good soldiers. I could feel the anxiety of the other Rangers, but they stood solidly, shouting orders over the din of the battle. In front of us, we could see the Stone Walkers falling back, alternating between running towards our line and running back to fight with the pursuing orcs. The fear amongst the reservists began rising as the battle came closer to the line. We began bracing as the Stone Walkers crossed the fifty meter line. Then came a beautiful whistling sound.

Artillery began crashing down in front of us. As the reservist soldiers looked dumbfounded at the whistling crashes of the shells, the two Rangers and I rushed forward to guide the Stone Walkers out of danger. Human soldiers, even reservists, knew what to do when artillery began falling, but the Stone Walkers had no idea how to evade the fire pattern. I threw up the strongest telekinetic shield I could manage as the Rangers led the Stone Walkers out of the rain of shrapnel and fragments. When we crossed the defensive line, the reservists were gone. In their place were the deadly formations of Army motor rifle platoons.

The heavy machine guns and grenade launchers mounted on the Prowler APC’s began hammering away at the orcs chasing the Stone Walkers and us. The mass of running orcs quickly dissolved into something out of a charnel house as the large caliber rounds and lethal fragments easily punched through the orcs’ armor and shredded the vital flesh underneath. I heard as the same thundering sound was repeated down the line with the deeper rhythm of Rhino tanks with their autocannons. Army helicopters roared in and added to the symphony with the chattering of their chain guns and swooshing of their rockets. The howls of the Dark Towers were drowned out by the cacophony of weapons fire that only the Army and Marines could place on the battlefield. Just to prove the Empire’s new dominance on the torn urban battlefield, joining the helicopters in the air where members of the Imperial Guard of the Praetorians – led by Major Justice, himself. The man was an arrogant prick, but never once would I doubt his courage or battle skill. By himself, he was a force of destruction. With the five other Guardsmen accompanying him, they cut a wide swath of psychic devastation that the Marines charged through like a hostile beachhead. The orcs and goblins hastily tried retreating from the onslaught, only to find themselves trapped between the Army and Marines on land while the Navy’s gunboats, led by the frigate, HMS Gauntlet, tore them apart from the sea.

The Dark Towers forces tried to make a last ditch effort by digging into the jagged remains of the Trade Park Towers. Perhaps they expected the regular Imperial forces to try and dig them out like Imperial Security had when the day began. The Army and Navy quickly disabused them of that notion as artillery and naval guns began relentlessly pounding the ruins. Army helicopters and small attack planes added their fire as the soldiers picked off any bad guys that emerged.

An Army colonel with the name of Fitzgerald approached me as I watched the barrage. When the regular forces had taken over the battle, I had retired to the command center. I was tired and sore, but I needed to watch the battle end. I had been there at the beginning. I needed to be there at the end. The colonel was a big, beefy soldier dressed in urban camouflage fatigues. His face was a professional neutral, but I could sense the determination behind the soldier’s façade.

“Ranger, are you in command of those aborigines?” he asked without preamble.

“In a manner of speaking, Colonel,” I answered, “I guess the better term would be liaison.”

“Good,” the colonel answered, “I assume those rats are as good as the ones out on the plains?” From his tone and emotions, I could tell that the colonel’s use of rats had no maliciousness behind it. He was a veteran of plains fighting, and he had probably fought beside aborigines before. Amongst veterans, the term rats became more of a compliment.

“They managed to save the line,” I stated firmly, “They will fight. What do you want me to ask them to do?” There was a sudden hesitancy in the colonel. He knew what he needed to do, but it wasn’t something that he wanted to do. I had a nasty suspicion what the colonel needed the Stone Walkers to do for the Army.

“The artillery barrage will lift soon, and the troops to root out the last of the Dark Towers. I want the Stone Walkers to bird-dog for us.” It was going to be dangerous and nasty work. It was also something that the Stone Walkers would be perfect for. Yet, I couldn’t just order them to go on what would be a bloody mess. It wouldn’t be right.

“I’ll ask them.”

The Trade Park Battle was finished. I was sidelined for the last push after securing the Stone Walkers’ cooperation. The Imperial Guard’s medic was responsible for my being pulled out of the battle. She was worried about my injuries, but was more concerned with the strain I placed on my psychic powers. Pushing one’s limits was how a psychic built strength, but I pushed mine beyond any safe limits. Until I could control my new psychic strength, any use would be unpredictable, and possibly dangerous to those around me. I decided not to be professionally offended, but there was still an internal seething at not being able to accompany the rest of the Rangers as they helped assault the ruins. The artillery had killed a massive number of the enemy, but the ones that survived were dug in hard. The Stone Walkers ably helped the Army and Marines dig the orcs and goblins out of their strongpoints, suffering many casualties in the process. Elves magically scanned the ruins to make sure that all of the Dark Towers’ forces were killed. As soon as the battle itself was finished, New Town Fire Rescue began their invasion to save whomever they could and to make sure that the fires dotting the Trade Park didn’t spread to the rest of the island.

Stephen walked over to where I was watching the firefighters and paramedics work with the assistance of soldiers to save lives and contain fires. He was emotionally drained, and I could feel the contradictory swirl of happiness and grief swirl around him. I had to admit that the two emotions were playing heavily on me. He stood next to me, saying nothing for a minute. I wondered why he had come over to me. We weren’t exactly on the best of terms most of the time and there were plenty of people who needed the leadership of the Lord Manattan.

“One of the longest days in my life,” Stephen finally said, the fatigue rolling through his tone, “What about you?”

“It certainly ranked up there, milord,” I said, a bit formally. I was still uncertain of Stephen’s motives, so I was wary of him and what he wanted from me.

“Ever the Ranger,” Stephen chuckled to himself, “You know that you were the only survivor of the initial confrontation. At least on the military side.” I nodded in response. Captain Colbert and his company, Lt. Horngren and his platoon, my ad hoc platoon of reservists, and the better part of the NTFD’s rescue personnel were killed in the collapse of the towers, along with nearly five thousand civilians. The day’s total death toll hadn’t been calculated, and probably wouldn’t be known for several days. I did some quiet checking during the final push, and would soon have the unpleasant task of informing my uncle that none of his employees, save two that had been out sick, survived the attack. For all of the reputation of ruthlessness that my family’s firm had acquired over the years, there was a sense of family amongst the employees. The loss of a hundred or so of their coworkers would not be easy for the firm’s employees to bear. Still, I knew that my family would do everything in its power to help its employees handle their grief. Stephen saw that my mind was going through my own roll call of dead and gave me a moment to collect my thoughts.

“Everyone has asked if you would write your after-action report as soon as possible,” Stephen continued when he was sure that I was listening again, “Especially the Army and the new earl.” The reason that the regular Imperials had finally joined the battle was that the Emperor finally had enough of the Earl of New Town and his antics. The Emperor ordered the Praetorians to arrest the earl and raise his son to the office. The new Earl of New Town wasn’t about to make the same mistakes of his father. Within fifteen minutes of his father’s arrest, the new earl had secured the assistance of the Imperial Army, Navy, and Marines. The elder earl’s resignation had come down after the end of the battle, about the same time as the House of Lords quietly let it be known that the elder earl would not survive the impeachment hearing.

“What do they want from me?” I asked, “I’m just a Ranger with some psychic powers.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, you’re the only one of the first responders that survived,” Stephen answered, “We need to know what mistakes were made in the beginning so we can remedy them. Plus, we want to know whom to award the posthumous medals that will be coming out of this. I’m sure you will receive some recognition for your part in this.” Stephen didn’t look smug, but there was a whiff of it in his emotions. It was part of his nature that grated on me. As the Lord Manattan, his recommendations would be taken very seriously by the Imperial Honors and Promotions Board, and he felt a small sense of satisfaction at the possible patronage he would be giving me.

“That’s up to Captain Helle to decide,” I said with a hint of ice, “The Rangers always review their own actions before forwarding it to the Board, and since she runs the Queens Station, it will be up to her to look at my actions and determine what is proper. I would prefer if you not interfere with it. Rangers have a peculiar way of looking at honors, and it would not be in my professional interest to have a lord giving me brass tacks.” The truth was, I could expect a gold chit, or exemplary service in combat award, for my actions in the Trade Park Battle. I was sure that if Stephen involved himself, it would become a Gold Star for service above and beyond the call of duty. Rangers, like other elite branches, maintained a harsher view of awards. What I did was expected of a Ranger. We always fought to protect the Empire, be it from human or inhuman forces. We did not quit, and we did not fail. Our reputation gave us an edge in the field against our enemies, but it also put a more strenuous filter on our actions. Rangers were expected to operate beyond what some would call the call of duty. We demanded it of ourselves because none of us would dare fail to live up to our professional mythos. Stephen didn’t understand any of that, but he could detect the undercurrent in my voice. Part of being a polished politician, as well as a skilled Ranger, was being able to correctly interpret the myriad of tiny verbal and nonverbal cues that a person gives off in a normal conversation.

“I understand,” he said quietly.

“No, you don’t,” I replied with a neutral tone, “Not fully at least, and I don’t think I could explain it to you well enough for you to understand. I do believe that you understand that you really shouldn’t involve yourself in the affairs of the Rangers, and for that I am very grateful.” There was a spike of anger in Stephen, but it faded quickly away.

“You still don’t like me very much?” Stephen asked. I looked at him and made a quick assessment. Stephen had acted very poorly when I first met him, partly because I wasn’t a part of his class of society, and partly because I had no intention of trying to be a part of his world. Since his marriage to my mother, I had watched his political actions as well as how he treated my mom. I didn’t agree with his politics, but I never saw him use any of the normal political dirty tricks or bombastic rhetoric that I saw out of most of the Liberal Party.

“I respect you Stephen,” I answered, “I think you’re still an overbearing, arrogant aristocrat, but I trust you to act honorably. Beyond that, I can’t give you.” Stephen seemed to accept that, but I could tell he didn’t like it very much. “Stephen, I will give you the names of a few people I think you should endorse for awards. I’m not asking you on my behalf, but because they were your subjects, and their families deserve your thanks.” I hoped what I said came out without sounding pompous or demanding. It must have, because no trace of anger or resentment passed through Stephen’s emotions. He just nodded wordlessly. An aide called out to him, and Stephen left with just a clap on my shoulder.

I watched as the rescue work continued through the night. I felt that I had a duty to watch because I couldn’t help them. My powers were sorting themselves out, which meant my telekinesis would be unreliable for the next few days. As I watched, I thought hard on what the day actually meant, both for the Empire and for myself. This wasn’t the normally sloppy kind of rear area raid that the Dark Towers used. This had been a calculated strike at an important target. The Imperial economy would take a nasty hit from the loss of the Trade Park, and subjects who had long taken their safety for granted would no longer feel safe. Imperial Security would be bolstered by regular forces until they increased their size to meet the new demand, which meant that there would be fewer soldiers defending the borders or roving the vast interior of the Empire. What it meant for the Empire was simple. There was a new leadership amongst the Dark Towers, and this one was demonstrating a scary understanding of our society.

As for myself, I had seen more death and destruction in a single day than I had seen in my entire life. I knew that there was a new threat to my Empire, and I knew that I was among the vanguard that would protect my Empire from this new threat. I became a Ranger because of the death of my father. I stayed a Ranger because I enjoyed the work and enjoyed being part of such an elite unit. As I looked beyond the day of the Trade Park Battle, I knew that my reasons for staying in the Rangers had changed. I felt the pull of duty stronger than ever before. My family would continue to subtly nag me, but I knew as I watched as rescue workers hunt frantically for survivors that the only way I would leave the Rangers would be to buried in full uniform. Then the sun dawned upon the new day.

]]> http://www.derek-ward.com/2008/09/the-trade-park-battle/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.

The Human Empire uses a series of weapons based on propellant-accelerated projectiles, essentially the same type of bullets used in the early 21st century reality. The propellant is a fictional compound, called Cordite III, which allows for more velocity of large rounds which generates more kinetic dump (hitting power) and range. Following the Red Lake Campaign, the Ministry of Defense conducted an exhaustive study to improve the overall effectiveness of the weaponry of the military. The result new rifle and pistol cartridges, as well as changes to doctrine involving the use of heavy arms. One big difference between Human Empire weapons and those used in contemporary Earth is the use of wood in the weapon stocks. Wood is used for two reasons. First, the wood used by the Human Empire is a native wood called “Lightwood,” that is remarkable resilient and durable during close-quarters combat with Dark Towers’ weaponry. Secondly, the use of wood instead of polymers adds heft to the weapons when they need to be wielded as melee weapons. The discussion of small arms will be broken into two categories: 1) the primary small arms used by the military, and 2) common weapons used by civilians, including local law enforcement.

I. Primary Military Small Arms

The basic infantryman is issued an assault rifle, four throwing grenades, pistol, and sword in addition to the extra bayonets and utility knife that are considered part of the basic load. The assault rifle currently issued is the Assault Rifle (Military)-Generation Five, or ARM-G5. Most soldiers just call it the G5. The G5 uses a roller-delayed locking action similar to the one used in Heckler and Koch’s G3 and MP5 lines. It is a reliable system that easily translates to different weapons and can handle the more powerful loads of the Human Empire. It can fire in either semi-automatic mode or fully automatic mode. The G5 has a superficial resemblance to the FN FAL with a long twenty-four inch (61 cm) barrel. Under the barrel run two side-by-side tubes. One is the gas tube that works the action. The other is a built-in extendable spear. When the release is hit, springs extend the tube out to forty-eight inches (122 cm) topped with a releasable bayonet and locking boar forks. This allows the infantryman to keep an orc from closing to close-quarters range. With the physical disparity between the Dark Towers’ creatures and humans, this is considered a necessary survival tool. The G5 is encased in a wood shell with only the dorsal and ventral accessory rails peeking through. A fold-down carrying handle is mounted on hinges on the right side, just forward the ejector port. The stock has a thumbhole style pistol grip stock. To assist the infantryman in hitting orc-sized targets at 500 meters (the maximum engagement range), the G5 is equipped with a 1-10x scope. The G5 feeds from a twenty-round box magazine and is chambered in 6 mm HP.

Military hand grenades are designed on the “baseball” design known the Grenade Throwing (Military) – Generation Three, or GTM-G3. The grenades come in High Explosive (G3H), fragmentation, (G3F), white phosphorous (G3T), concussion (G3C), and smoke (G3S). Typically, an infantryman will carry one explosive, one white phosphorous, and two smoke grenades, but these can be easily switched out depending on the current mission or commanding officer’s desires.

The sidearm for the military is the General Pistol (Military)-Generation Five, or GPM-G5, better known as the GP-5. The GP-5 is designed so that the shooter can shoot the weapon or use it as a blunt weapon. Maximum engagement range for the pistol is twenty meters. The pistol has a large rounded hardened-steel slide that dominates the top of the weapon. The slide has a “forward lock” that prevents the slide from being pushed out of battery during close-quarters combat. There is no slide release – the moment a loaded magazine is inserted, the slide is released and a round is chambered. The GP-5 has a grip safety and slide-mounted decocker/safety lever. There is an accessory rail under the barrel, but most soldiers never use it. The GP-5 is chambered in 10 mm HP and feeds from a ten round magazine.

The sword used by the infantry is technically classified as General Sword Military – Generation Two, but most soldiers just call it the gladius. The gladius is constructed out of Damascus steel with a rope and leather grip that is easily adjusted for each soldier. In addition to the sword, the soldier also carries three replacement bayonets and a utility knife. The bayonet is designed to stick into the enemy and keep the wound open, hence the ability to be released from the end of the spear. The utility blade is known as the Utility Tool Military – Generation Three, but is known by its generic term of Leatherman.

In the basic infantry squad, there are a few variations to this basic load. The APC crew will usually be armed with the carbine version of the G5 known as the G5C. The G5C retains the same action as the standard G5, but it has a greatly shortened barrel of sixteen inches (41 cm), and completely eliminates the extendable spear. This reduces the engagement range to 300 meters, but the change makes the G5C a much thinner weapon than its bigger brother. The other changes include the changing of the wood shell to end at a simple pistol grip so that the carbine can accommodate a folding polymer stock and a 1-5x scope.

The squad sharpshooter carries the G5S, which is a mix of the standard rifle and the carbine. The G5S looks more like the standard, but doesn’t have the extendable spear and has a longer thirty inch (76 cm) barrel. The G5S has an engagement range of 800 meters.

The platoon grenadier carries a standard G5 with the Grenade Launcher (Military)-Generation Five (Underslung). The GLM-G5U is a single-shot, side-loading 30 mm grenade launcher capable of hitting out to 200 meters. It can fire 30 mm versions of the hand grenades with additional loads of armor-piercing, armor piercing discarding sabot, flechettes, and canister. The last two are close-range shells that either fire sprays of small darts or small balls.

The squad heavy gunner carries the G5M, but it’s better known as the Squad Automatic Weapon, or SAW. Although classified as an assault rifle, the G5M is actually a light machine gun designed for sustained fire. Like all G5 variants, the SAW uses the same roller-delayed locking action, but it looks very different than the others. The triangle of barrel, gas piston, and spear are naked with a bipod attached to the lower accessory rail. The usual carrying handle is removed and a new one is placed closer forward so that it can double as a barrel changer. The magazine well has a longer throat to accommodate the sixty-round magazines.

The squad’s dog handler usually uses either a sub-machine gun or a shotgun. The current sub-machinegun is the Machine Pistol (Military)-Generation Five (MPM-G5), more commonly known as the MP-5. The MP-5 uses the same roller-delayed locking action as the G5. The field model looks very much like a slightly smaller version of the G5C. The MP-5 has an engagement range of 50 meters. The MP-5 is chambered in 10 mm HP and feeds from 30-round box magazines. The MP-5 has a built-in adapter so that it can feed from GP-5 magazines.

The current shotgun in use is the General Shotgun (Military) – Generation Three – GSM-G3 – but generally just called a scattergun or shotgun. The G3 shotgun is a gas-powered semi-automatic with a slide-action backup. The slide action also allows for the manual feeding of specialty loads. The shotgun is also very different from other small arms in that it uses very little wood in its construction. The barrel and extendable spear run naked down to a metal receiver. The forward handgrip that is also the cocking handle for the slide action is the only wood used in the shotgun. The receiver ends in a rubber pistol grip. The stock is metal and can flip on top of the weapon. The shotgun is chambered to handle 15 mm shells and feeds from a seven-round detachable box magazine. Depending on the load, the shotgun has an effective engagement range of ten to thirty meters.

Beyond the mechanized infantry squad, the Imperial Army has several man-portable weapons used by specialized fire-teams in light or heavy infantry or platoon heavy weapons fire-teams. The most common is the General Purpose Machine Gun (Military) – Generation Four, better known as the Gimp. The Gimp is similar in construction to the SAW, but scaled up to handle the much larger 8 mm HP cartridge. This heavier cartridge gives the Gimp an effective range of five hundred meters. Unlike the SAW, the Gimp can feed from a box magazine or a disintegrating link belt. The Gimp is usually equipped with a bipod or tripod.

Another common weapon is the Military Recoilless Rifle – Generation Five – MRR-G5 – which is often referred to as the bazooka. The bazooka appears to be a long metal tube with a pistol grip and forward hand grip attached to the bottom with a scope at the ten o’clock position. The bazooka fires a 60 mm rocket that can carry a variety of warheads including high explosive, fragmentation, armor piercing, white phosphorous, and smoke. Ranges are anywhere from four hundred to a thousand meters depending on warhead type and size. The bazooka has two feeds. Single rounds can be fed by a chute on the underside of the weapon, or a gravity rack can be attached to the top allowing the user to fire up to six rockets before needing to reload.

In use by snipers are the two versions of the Military Precision Rifle – Generation Five (MPR-G5). The most common is the MPR-G5L, known as the Scout. The Scout is based on a highly tuned bolt-action with a free-floating, heavy thirty inch (76 cm) barrel. The receiver and conformal magazine are encased in a wood shell with thumbhole type stock. Accessory rails line the top of the receiver and the forward half of the foregrip. A 4-24x scope is usually mounted on the dorsal rail with a folding bipod attached to the lower one. The Scout is chambered in 8 mm HP which allows it an engagement range of a thousand meters. The MPR-G5H is a larger version of the Scout designed to fire the 12 mm HP cartridge. This larger cartridge comes in anti-personnel or anti-materiel versions, although the rifle is primarily used in the anti-materiel role.