Earl grunted. Maybe in his prime. Stark gave him the impression of somebody who spent a lot more time manning a desk than practicing at the range. “Recently?”
“Recent enough,” Stark snapped.
Shaking his head, Earl slid back down the boulder. The other two followed him. Stark made more noise than he had, but Nikolai made far less. They made their way through the trees toward where the others were waiting. The snowmobiles were handy, but loud, so they’d parked at the base of the ridge and hiked in. The snow had made for treacherous footing, especially with seventy pounds of recoilless rifle and ammo on his back.
Heather, Jason, and Aino were crouched in a small ravine below. Aino was using a headlamp with a red lens, still searching Aksel’s journal for anything that might help. Jason raised his gun when he heard a branch snap above, then lowered it when he saw his new employer. Earl slipped and slid down the last twenty feet. Exhaustion and grace were mutually exclusive, but he tried to make it look like he’d meant to do that. Stark lost it halfway down the incline and tumbled the rest of it, making Earl look like a ballerina in comparison. Nikolai leapt off the top and landed quietly at the bottom. Show-off.
“We on?” Heather asked. While he’d been scouting, she had cut a hole in the middle of the gray wool blanket to stick her head through and tied a length of paracord around her waist to secure it. It made for a semi-passable poncho, more for modesty than to protect her against the elements. She was still missing pants and barefoot but had his coat on under there. Earl didn’t mind. He figured Travis would have approved of Heather’s general attitude.
“We’re on. Nice poncho, by the way.” Heather took up the edges of the blanket and curtsied. The rest of the group gathered around Earl. “We set up there,” he pointed at the ridge above. “Shoot the hell out of anything that moves while Nikolai runs in. On my mark we follow.”
“The pup can follow me, if she can keep up. Once inside, stay out of my way,” Nikolai said. “When I am excited, it can be…difficult to tell friend from foe.”
Earl grabbed Nikolai roughly by the sleeve. “Don’t you dare hurt anybody on our side.”
Nikolai struck Earl’s hand away. “If you’d followed that advice yourself, we wouldn’t be in this predicament now, would we?” Nikolai turned and walked away.
“What was that about?” Stark asked nervously.
“Nothing,” Earl muttered. “It’s not important. When we leave the ridge, move quick, but stick together. Stay alert. We’ll wait until the sun comes over the hill, so we’ll have some light.”
“Sun’ll be up in fifteen minutes,” Aino said.
Stark pulled out his cell phone. “Still no signal.” The Fed had been checking it every few minutes since they’d set out.
“When there is, you damn well better just call for reinforcements and not an airstrike,” Earl warned.
“What? They’d actually blow up the town?” Heather asked.
“Of course not,” Stark lied as he put his phone away. “That would be overkill. Our primary mission is to protect the population from monster attacks.”
“Your primary mission is to contain the truth,” Earl said, knowing full well that the MCB was capable of massive overreactions. They’d destroyed population centers before to prevent various supernatural outbreaks. There had been one in Pennsylvania in the Eighties, Texas in the Forties, and even before there had been an MCB the government had burned a town in Wisconsin. America wasn’t the only one with that policy, either. No country would risk a major supernatural outbreak. Areas had been sterilized in Africa, India, Russia, and Europe, blamed on natural disasters or industrial accidents, and those were only the ones MHI knew about. These events were rare and ugly, but they beat the alternative. “We get this guy now and this op is locked down, Stark. There’s no need for these people to suffer any more than necessary.”
“Blow up my hometown and I will totally beat your ass,” Heather said.
“Oh, don’t worry about that, missy, but MCB sure isn’t done with you,” the agent growled. “You know what happens to confirmed werewolves. There’s going to be hell to pay—”
Earl cut him off. “Stark.”
“What?”
“Another word, and I’ll kill you myself and tell Myers the werewolves got you.” Earl didn’t so much as blink as he let that sink in. Stark began to speak, then thought better of it and closed his mouth. Earl Harbinger had a certain reputation amongst the MCB, and even Stark wasn’t pigheaded enough to push him just then.
Earl studied the faces around him. Heather was nervous but seemed predatorily eager. Being a werewolf had that effect on you. If she didn’t wig out and go insane on them, everything should be okay. Jason Lococo seemed calm, and despite having come from a crappy company was acting like a professional. Aino was a tough old coot who’d seemingly just tagged along for the ride, but his actions showed he was far more committed to defending his town that his words indicated. Stark was still a belligerent jerk, but he was MCB, and they could usually fight. Nikolai had already wandered off, probably arguing with the voices in his head. They were tired and out of their league. He would have traded them in a heartbeat for his regular team, but they’d have to do.
“All right, everyone. Listen up. We can do this. We’re going to beat this asshole.”
“You giving a motivational speech?” Aino asked incredulously.
“Damn straight. I always do.…We’re going to get that stinking amulet, and we’re going to cure Heather. If you get scared, keep going. They’re werewolves, and they’re scary, but they die, just like everything else. Remember, this is your turf. He came here. He started it. He hurt your people. And there’s a bunch of folks counting on us back there. We will not let them down. All of you lost someone today—friends, teammates, partners. We’re going to get him before he gets away and does this again somewhere else. Now it’s his turn to lose. It’s his turn to hurt. It’s his turn to fucking die.”
Earl took the time to look each of them square in the eye. He’d learned a thing or two about leadership over the years, and he could usually tell the measure of a man by looking in his eyes. Whether it was one of his Hunters or a soldier in a trench in France, Earl Harbinger could always see a warrior’s heart, and though here it was either too new, too old, too inexperienced, or atrophied by bureaucracy, they were what he had. They’re scared, but they’ll do.
“Good hunting. Move out.”
Chapter 31
“They’re here,” the Alpha said. “Wake your diggers. Get ready.”
Lucinda moved to the window. The sun was just peeking over the mountains. There was nothing moving out there except for one member of the pack, in human form, pacing near the gate. “Who? Where?”
He didn’t know who. The smells were confusing. Petrov was one of them, the female was another. There were some humans…and something confusing. It was Harbinger, but not. The not-Harbinger was what annoyed him. You shouldn’t be able to smell a ghost.
“Get away from the window.” He took the young witch by the arm and firmly pulled her back. The last thing he wanted was for a sniper to put a bullet in her. Then he’d be stuck walking. “I need you alive.”
“Well, thank you. I’m rather fond of you, too.” Lucinda’s voice dripped with sarcasm.
“You know what I mean.” The witch’s portal magic was their primary escape route. “Secure my father. I’m not done with him yet. Be careful. He’s a tricky one. Get to the bottom and wait for me. I’ll meet you at the elevator shaft.” His hand unconsciously moved to the amulet. “This shouldn’t take long.”
Outside, the patrolling werewolf’s head opened and tossed out brains. He dropped, cleanly killed. The sound of the rifle shot arrived a moment later.
* * *
It had been much more difficult making it back up the ridge with all his weapons, but Earl figured if you were going to bring them, you might as well have some fun with them. He’d made Jason lug the heavy stuff. Being the boss had its benefits.
He watched as the first werewolf fell through his Zeiss scope. Headshot, asshole. Though he was right-handed, and the bolt-action was set up for right-hand use, Earl shot left-handed when he was prone and using a bipod. That way he didn’t have to break his firing grip or cheek weld against the stock as his right hand quickly lifted the bolt, yanked it back, forward, and back down. It was much faster that way. A spent .300 Winchester magnum brass case was ejected and a fresh round fed smoothly into the chamber. Next.
He picked up the second sentry. The werewolf was beginning to move, having just smelled the spilled blood of his pack-mate. The Zeiss was pre-zeroed for this load, and Earl settled the 300 yard stadia line on the werewolf’s chest. The target was moving, so might as well aim for the biggest part. There was no wind to compensate for. Earl exhaled as he tracked his target.
The trigger broke clean. The heavy G.A. Precision bolt-action rifle barely rocked on its bipod. Earl reacquired his target through the scope before the impact. He watched the werewolf shudder as 168 grains of lead and silver pierced his torso. The werewolf stumbled but kept running. Tough guy, huh? Earl worked the bolt.
Julie was the team sharpshooter, since the girl just had a remarkable natural talent for putting bullets into very small things, very far away, very quickly, but Earl had been the one who had originally taught her how to shoot, and he was no slouch himself. Gotcha. The werewolf was running directly away now. The reticle swayed across the target’s back.
He exhaled again as his left finger tightened on the trigger. Earl always shot on the respiratory pause.
CRACK.
This time the bullet hit the werewolf square between the shoulder blades. He spilled forward in a tumble of snow and blood.
Earl looked up from his scope. The mine facility had seemingly come alive with movement. Just like kicking an anthill. He smiled, because there was nothing more rewarding than a target-rich environment. There was a flash of movement from below as Nikolai and Heather sprinted through the trees. “What are you waiting for?” Earl shouted at the others. “Give ’em hell!”