“Different dimensions. One’s a whole lot meaner,” Earl explained. “Not that fey are nice, but they tend to keep their unpleasantness to the individual instead of the world-wrecking level. Come on, Stark. Grow a pair.”
“Still…It sounds like he just made it all up.”
“He wasn’t an MCB agent bucking for a promotion. Look. I’ll grab the amulet and say the words. You just cover me. Worst-case scenario if the Alpha doesn’t kill me first, which he probably will, is that I piss off some immortal crone and she hops a flight from Finland and comes over here and puts a hex on me. The bitch can get in line.”
Stark folded his arms. “You shouldn’t joke about that. Curses are serious business.”
Earl was the last person that needed to be lectured on curses. “Well, I’m short one, figured I’d collect some more. After this I’m thinking I’ll go desecrate a mummy’s tomb or something.”
“Fine.” Stark relented and climbed onto another snowmobile. “We’ll see who’s laughing when you get turned into a frog. Play with your antique bullets. We need to stop by my car on the way so I can get some modern weapons.”
Earl just smiled at Stark’s ignorance. Sure, he was packing a pair of wheel-guns, a subgun built during the Second World War, and a rifle design that dated back to the tsars, but he also had an 84mm recoilless rifle and enough shells to obliterate half the county. Earl Harbinger was retro-practical. “Aino, would you repeat those words?”
Aino complied. “Allut tvar mataw. Allut tvar mataw.”
The words were harsh, grating, unpleasant on the tongue, but at least they didn’t seem to bend his sanity like the Old Ones’ language did. Earl memorized the words and tried to repeat them. They didn’t feel particularly magical. He was probably going to screw this up.
Jason Lococo joined them a moment later, having borrowed some gear from the locals and unceremoniously dumped it on the back of his snowmobile. Earl had left him the biggest vehicle, an 800cc monstrosity. The giant stopped and silently listened to the words of the Baba Yaga. After Aino read the line and Earl repeated it for the fifth time, Jason asked, “If that don’t work, what do we do then?”
“Anything you can think of to hurt him, and if that doesn’t pan out, run for your life,” Earl directed. “If I go down, somebody needs to stay alive to warn everyone else about this guy.”
Stark raised his hand. “Maybe I should stay here then. You know…to report.”
It was an odd feeling, but Earl had never found himself wishing for the professionalism of Agent Myers before. Despite their mutual hatred for each other, at least Myers wasn’t a chicken. In fact, if he was going to be stuck with an agent, he would have traded Stark for any of the other ones he’d met. Sad to admit, but Franks would be especially useful. Hell, Franks would probably just walk up and punch the Alpha to death.
“Oh, come on, Agent Stark.” Jason chuckled. “You were all excited for us to be killing werewolves when you thought you were going to get a cut.”
“Shut up, you idiot!” Stark hissed.
“Huh?” Earl’s eyes narrowed. “Cut of what?”
Stark held up his hands defensively. “I don’t know what this guy’s talking about. Cut? What cut?”
“You didn’t know?” Jason shook his head. “Yeah, Horst gave Stark something like twenty percent of our PUFF. He told us about the infected deputy in the hospital. That was supposed to be an easy kill.”
Stark had called Briarwood? But that meant when Joe Buckley turned early at the hospital and killed all those folks and cursed Heather…That all could have been prevented. MCB’s own regulations would have required them to stay with anyone they even suspected was infected until it was confirmed if they were or not. Stark had not only known, he’d left someone newly cursed unattended in a crowded place. Earl’s gloved hand curled into a fist. Sam Haven had warned him about this guy, and apparently Sam hadn’t been exaggerating. He walked toward Stark’s snowmobile.
“That’s nonsense!” Stark shouted at Jason while trying to look indignant and failing miserably. “He’s lying, Harbinger.”
“When collecting on the deputy didn’t work out, Stark told Horst all about you,” Jason said. “I wasn’t there for that conversation, but Horst thought you were worth so much PUFF that it was worth shooting me in the back and leaving his girlfriend to rot to death to try and kill you.”
“You did what?”
“Harbinger, I—” Stark’s nose was smashed flat as Earl punched him square in the face. He fell over the side of his snowmobile. Earl followed him around and slugged him again as he started to rise. The impact hurt Earl’s fist. Stark hit the snow, groaning. Earl took a step back, shaking his aching hand, then changed his mind, came back, and kicked Stark in the ribs.
“I’d suggest that you stay down!” Earl was mad, downright enraged. If he’d still been a werewolf, it would have taken every bit of his self control not to change right then. Stark had violated a sacred trust. Earl had earned his PUFF exemption. Who was this bureaucrat to take that from him?
Stark reached into his coat. Earl no longer possessed superhuman speed, but he was by all reckoning still a very quick man. Drawing his Bowie knife, he grabbed Stark by the hood, jerked his head up before he could reach his pistol, and placed the cold steel edge against Stark’s jugular. That stopped him cold.
A flick of the wrist and the agent would die. “I did everything they asked me to do.…Do you have any idea how many people I killed, how many friends I lost, war after war, so that some government flunky could stamp a piece of paper that said I got to live like a man?”
Blood was running from Stark’s nose. “N-no,” he whimpered.
“I’ve seen your kind before, boy. A new generation of assholes comes along, you forget about the sacrifices made by the ones that came before. They mean nothing. To you, we’re all the same. You can’t tell the difference between a man and a monster. Oh, you’ve got your rules, only they never apply to your kind. And their protections only apply to people like me when it’s convenient for people like you.” Earl twisted the bone handle of the razor-sharp knife. Stark yelped as it cut his skin.
A pair of boots stepped into Earl’s field of view. “Am I interrupting something?” Nikolai asked politely.
“Not really. I’m just deciding on whether to slit Agent Stark’s throat or not.”
“I found the scent,” Nikolai said. Earl paused and looked up. The Russian gestured toward the hills.
Earl leaned in close and hissed into Stark’s ear. “It’s your lucky day.” He let go of the hood, and Stark flopped face down into the snow. Earl stood up and sheathed his knife. “Where?”
“He went north along Cliff Road.”
“The only thing up there are some farms and…That’s toward the old Quinn mine,” Aino said.
“The one that Aksel worked at?” Earl asked.
“The same. One of the deepest in the world, ’til part collapsed and killed a mess of us.”
“That sound like a reasonable place to hide a mystical amulet to you?” he asked Nikolai.
“It was on my list of places to look. A mile underground and filled with water. The amulet would have been extremely difficult to find.”
Earl remembered the smell of the creatures that had held him earlier. They’d stunk of the deep earth. “Unless you had some critters that could dig for you. Then it would have just taken time. He’s probably using the mine as a base of operations now.”
Nikolai stopped and tilted his head. The expression was recognizable to Earl now. Nikolai was listening to the voices in his head. “Yes. Yes, I believe he would.…Follow me.” Nikolai mounted a waiting snowmobile, fired up the engine, and sped off.
“You trust that crazy?” Aino asked.
“Not at all.”
“I better come with you, then,” Aino said.
“What’re you, seventy?” Earl asked.
“Meh, I’m only twenty. It’s the climate. Long winters. Hard on the skin,” the old man said. “I can help. I know that place. It’s a big facility. And I know the mines, if you have to go down.”