Earl cocked the hammer for dramatic effect. “Short answer.”
“I’m Lucinda Hood. Your thugs killed my father.”
“Hood? You’re Marty’s daughter. The Condition is involved?” Earl was stunned. He’d thought for sure they’d been destroyed. “Owen told me about you. What’re you doing here? Do all of you evil assholes network or something?”
Lucinda began to respond. “You’ll pay for—”
“You know what? I ain’t got time for this.” Earl walked over and slugged her hard in the jaw, knocking the witch cold. “I normally don’t hit little girls, but I make an exception for death cultists. Which way did he go, Kirk?”
Conover looked like Earl felt. He’d obviously taken a licking. “Adam? Well, I think it was Adam.…” Kirk pointed down the shaft. “But he’s changed. That thing’s corrupted him.”
“Adam? The Alpha…He’s your son, isn’t he?” Earl asked.
Kirk nodded silently.
He, too, was a father, and couldn’t even imagine…“I don’t think he’s going to go down quietly,” Earl said. “This is—”
“No. He won’t stop. Do what you have to do. I didn’t know…I never expected…I thought he had the curse under control. He did fine for years. But then we found that skeleton, and it put images in his mind. He started keeping to himself more. Then, when Sharon died…They gave him some leave. Our superiors just thought he needed time to grieve. I should’ve seen it.”
So many questions. Earl shook his head. There just wasn’t time. Until that amulet was deactivated by the Baba Yaga’s spell, the vulkodlak would keep on trying to kill everyone left in town. Earl shined his light down the shaft. It could only pierce so far. He couldn’t even see close to the bottom. How do I get down there?
“I didn’t know, Earl. I promise I didn’t bring you here on purpose. I was telling the truth. All I knew about was Nikolai. Adam arranged everything.”
The elevator had been left down below. The power was off anyway. It looked like there was usually a safety cage over the shaft, but the Alpha had torn it into jagged pieces. The shaft was a ten-foot-by-ten-foot square. There were several thick cables still dangling in the middle. If he could secure himself to that cable…Along with duct tape, Earl always kept a small bundle of paracord in his armor. He pulled it out.
“Why didn’t you tell me about him?”
“He’s an operative of an agency that doesn’t even officially exist. It was classified. I didn’t know he’d be here. I just thought Nikolai had come ba—”
“No. I mean how come you didn’t tell me that I’d cursed your unborn child?” Earl began fashioning the cord into a basic harness.
“Because…Sharon didn’t want me to.”
Earl tied the paracord around his waist. He despised this acrobatic crap, and wasn’t sure how good at it he was going to be as an ex-werewolf. Now he just needed to reach that cable.…“Why the hell not? ”
“You hurt her while you were trying to save her. Sharon, she…she loved you, you know.” Kirk’s voice grew quiet. “She said that you already had enough guilt on your conscience. She didn’t think you could handle much more.”
Earl winced. If only he’d known. Maybe he could have made a difference. Maybe he could have stopped this before it had ever begun. Maybe…And maybe that was exactly what Sharon had been trying to prevent.
“I don’t think you can beat him. Even before he found that damned thing. He’s powerful, Earl. Like nothing you’ve ever seen. I’ll try to call for help. My old operation has some assets. They might be able to take him alive.”
That was a father’s desperation talking. There was no help coming in time to save the town. “Too late now,” Earl said. “I’m going after him. Wish me luck.”
Heather frowned. “Harbinger…Wait.”
Now was not the time to get mushy and nervous. “I’ve got to do this.”
“No.” Heather scrunched up her nose, like she could smell something bad. “He’s coming to us.”
* * *
Stark nervously looked down the hole in the ground at the entrance to the Quinn Mine. That thing had crawled out of there before Harbinger had blasted it with the 84mm. How many more of the Old Ones’ creations were hiding under their feet?
There was still gunfire coming from nearby. Stark forced himself to move toward it. The crusty bastard with the accent was right behind him.
Douglas Stark had been brave once. He’d been a member of one of the proudest fraternities of warriors in history, briefly. It had been his first operation that had ended up fighting Deep Ones. Stark liked to think that if he would have just stuck with fighting other mortals, he would have been okay and not discovered that he was a coward. But instead he’d been whisked into the top-secret world of monster eradication.
Even then, he’d managed to be brave, a little bit, when necessary. MCB agents were called upon to do all sorts of terrifying things, but Stark had always managed to maneuver himself so that it was somebody else doing those things instead of him. Sure, he’d fought monsters, killed a few, but he wasn’t the one to volunteer for it. Following Franks around had been the scariest thing he’d ever done, but Franks had been the one to do all the dangerous stuff, which was justifiable, since it was impossible for Franks to actually die. Stark had always hid his cowardice well. Luckily, since the MCB was a government agency, the keys to success were often more related to time served and working the system than sticking your neck out.
Having spent the last decade in management, though, the part of his brain that controlled bravery hadn’t gotten much use. Stark was a good manager, an excellent paper-shuffler, witness-intimidator, and PR doctor, but always in his heart he knew that he had a tendency to choke under pressure. It was hard to admit, but that was probably the single biggest reason he hated the fact that Dwayne Myers had been promoted instead of him. Myers was just as sly, just as cruelly efficient in the completion of his duties, but Myers actually led from the front. Myers actually was brave, and Myers was also perceptive enough to know that Stark wasn’t.
If he could only see me now, Stark thought as he jogged through the burning debris. A bleeding werewolf tumbled out of a smoky corner. Stark bellowed as he shot the werewolf half a dozen times. Another one came out, dragging a leg nearly severed by silver shrapnel. Stark gunned it down, too.
“There! Look over there!” Aino shouted.
Another one of those big underground, floppy-skinned, monstrosities was chasing the last Briarwood Hunter between some of the parked equipment. Jason saw them, ducked under the bed of a dump truck and sprinted their way. He was holding Harbinger’s Thompson, which was a good sign, because maybe that meant the scary bastard had gotten eaten.
Unfortunately, the monster began climbing over the dump truck in pursuit. “Don’t run this way! The other way!” Stark shouted, but it wasn’t doing any good. The idiot was going to lead that thing right to them. “Damn it.”
Jason was soaked in sweat and gasping for air. Blood was running freely from the bandage on his head, and the side of his coat was stained red. Apparently the monster had managed to hit him at least once. “I’m almost out of ammo,” he gasped.
“Did you lose my gun? Because that was an issue gun.” There was a form for that, and Stark hated paperwork. Except the monster was lumbering toward them, so paperwork could wait. He shouldered his SCAR and started shooting.
Jason fired his last few rounds. The bullets hit, but the monster didn’t seem to notice. Its head kept bobbing along. The giant mouth slit was hanging slightly open. Its skin was pocked with dozens of bleeding green bullet wounds. Jason dropped the Thompson and picked up a board. One end of which was on fire. “I’ll hold him!” The big man bellowed as he charged the creature.
Now, that was brave. Stark had already gone through twenty rounds and not made a dent in the thing. He dropped the mag and pulled another from his armor while Jason ran right up and smacked the monster in the leg. The flaming board broke into sparks and ashes, but the creature didn’t so much as flinch. Jason backed away as the creature raised its two metal hands.
“Big man! Catch!” Aino shouted. Stark was surprised to look over and see the grizzled old man holding a lit stick of dynamite. He threw it at Jason, who, remarkably enough, reached out and caught it in one hand.
“Where’d you get that?” Stark asked.
“Been carrying it around all night. ’Bout time I got to use it.”
Jason stood his ground, face grim, as the fuse burned down. The creature reached down and grabbed him around the shoulders. Jason’s feet left the ground as the horrible gaping mouth opened wide to swallow him whole. He didn’t so much as make a sound as he was shoved headfirst down the thing’s throat. The skin bag stretched as the Hunter fell inside.
“That is sick and wrong,” Stark said.
The monster turned toward them, the pouch on the front bulging and swinging. It took a step forward, then stopped. The head kept bobbing, like it was thinking about something. A green point appeared in the middle of the sack; then it turned into a straight green line as a knife blade sliced cleanly through the skin from the inside. The monster opened its mouth to throw Jason up, but it was already too late.
The incision was three feet long by the time Jason’s arm and head fell out. The gasping Hunter and a massive pile of slime spilled into the snow. Jason wasted no time as he sprang to his feet and ran for his life. He’d made it ten feet when the dynamite he’d left behind went off. It wasn’t as big of a boom as Stark had hoped for, but it blasted green internal organs six feet in every direction. The blob of a head tilted crazily to the side before the whole monster sank gradually to the ground, flopped over, and lay still.
“That wasn’t very big.”
“I only had the one stick. Big man! You okay?”
Jason stumbled over to them. He was covered in goo, and so dizzy he could barely walk. He sank to his knees in front of Stark and held out his hand. Under all the slime was a knife. It looked familiar. Just like Stark’s SOG knife. Automatically, he reached for the sheath on his armor, but it was empty. “Hey…How’d you get that?”
“You lost it sliding down the hill,” Jason said. “You can have it back now.”
The Hunter had gotten a lot more use out of it than prying open soda machines. Stark looked at the nasty, stinky, mess, and said, “Naw. That’s okay. You keep it. I’ve got to try and signal help before they bomb the shit out of us.”
“Cool. Gonna rest now.…” Jason fell over and hit the ground with a dull thud. “You guys go do what you gotta do.”
The man was brave, no doubt about that. That kind of gumption would have gotten him far in the MCB. He looked like he was probably going to die, but he’d managed to kick some ass in the process. He’d already lost one hard-charger today. Stark tried to remember back to his training.…Something about an obscure creature like this had been talked about in medical. That slime…Stark opened the med-kit on his armor and began rummaging around until he found a labeled injector. He gave the Hunter the shot and hoped that he was remembering right.
Stark checked his phone. Still no signal. He looked to the top of Number Six. It was his turn to be the hero. “I’ve got to go.”
Aino handed him Harbinger’s sniper rifle. “Just in case you see any more werewolves.”
Jason Lococo was mumbling, staring into the distance. “Not so bad…”