Chapter 37
This will be the last entry in this book. The journals began as a tool to chronicle the holes dug in my mind by a demon, and many of those holes have been filled. There are still things missing, but for the most part, my life is mine again. Up yours, Rocky. I win, you son of a bitch.
The first book was about my history, the second was about my Hunters, and the third was about my curse. But it doesn’t feel right calling it a curse anymore. Koschei’s amulet changed me. In the four months since Copper Lake, things have been different. The change is easier to control now, and when I do transform, though the madness is still there, it does what I tell it to. Even during the full moon, I’d say I was at least half sane, and that’s a pretty decent improvement. I’ll still lock myself up, just in case, but I’m more confident than I’ve ever been. I’m in charge of the beast now, not the other way around.
I’ve always had family, mentors, friends, and my Hunters are my pack, but in one important way, I’ve always been a lone wolf. Even my beloved wife, God rest her soul, could never fully understand my other half. Now, for the first time in my life, I’ve got someone by my side who not only understands what it’s like, but who isn’t a complete raving nut-job about it, either. I’ve been teaching Heather, but she’s a faster learner than I was.
We’re still working the kinks out. Apparently, I can be difficult to live with sometimes. Go figure. But the last few months have been nice. Shit. I’m a master of understatement. It’s been great, some of the best times of my life. But if you expected me to write about my feelings, you sure as hell picked up the wrong journal. Let’s just say that life is good.
Earl Harbinger stopped and looked out the cabin’s window. There had been a noise, slightly out of place, just an echo of a sound against the mountain. One hand came to rest on the Smith & Wesson sitting on the edge of the desk. The property was as isolated as possible, just a lone hunting cabin on a barren stretch of nothing a hundred miles from the nearest bit of civilization. He had bought the land a long time ago under a name that had long since ceased to exist. It was the kind of place that a man could disappear for a time; where a young, supposedly dead werewolf could practice and the only things in danger be the local animals. All of which were edible to a werewolf, but only the bears were a challenge.
The logs in the fireplace popped. The cabin creaked against the wind. Scowling, Earl watched the Alaskan night for a while, but the out-of-place sound didn’t come again. It must have been nothing. Earl removed his hand from the gun and returned to his work.
I was bitter at first, having chosen to be cursed again by my old nemesis. But Nikolai, evil son of a bitch that he was, had done me a favor at the bottom of that black hole. I’d thought I’d have given anything to be a man again, but I was wrong. I was always meant to be a werewolf…Monster and Hunter.
This is who I am.
“Writing again?” Heather was standing in the bedroom doorway.
“Scribbling.” Earl put the pen down. He hadn’t sensed her come in. She could be downright stealthy when she wanted to be. “Just a few last things to fill in before we trek out tomorrow.”
Julie was going to have a plane waiting for them in the nearest town. An identity had been prepared for Heather to use while MHI’s attorneys worked on getting a provisional PUFF exemption. They had to tread carefully, but that’s why Earl paid them a thousand bucks an hour. MHI had done fine without him there, babysitting, but he hadn’t killed a monster since November and was starting to get twitchy. The snows were melting. It was time to return to the world.
“You really think I’m ready?” Heather asked.
“Ready as one of us can ever be.”
“You had three years to work on it,” she pointed out.
They’d had this discussion several times. “I had to learn all this from scratch. You’ve got resources, know-how, and one hell of a handsome advisor.”
“You’re rich, too.” Heather folded her arms and watched him with a bit of a smirk. As she had come to accept her new state, Earl found that she’d become increasingly lovely. In his opinion, there was nothing nicer than a pretty girl with the confidence to beat up a polar bear. “Don’t underestimate the attractiveness of the being a millionaire part. Mom always wanted me to find a rich guy.”
“I invested a few PUFFs way back when. That’s the power of compound interest for you.”
“You’re right. I’m ready.” Heather smiled at him. “I’m just going to miss our luxury accommodations is all. Wrap it up, would you? We’ve got a long trip tomorrow. Come to bed.”
“I’ve just got to finish this. When we get to Cazador, I’m going to bury this down in the archives. Maybe it’ll come in handy someday for someone else.”
“You’re pretty serious about recording everything for posterity.” Heather came over to where he was sitting, draped her arms around his neck, and whispered in his ear. “But I bet I can distract you.”
A grin split Earl’s face. “Oh, really?” You got to know someone rather well when you spent an entire winter isolated with them, and Earl knew exactly how distracting Heather could be.
* * *
The sound came again in the middle of the night. It was louder this time, and the suddenness of it launched both of them out of bed. Earl was getting dressed as he reached the front door. The noise of the fighter jet lingered on the mountain for a moment. Another aircraft flew past a minute later, skimming terribly low over the lake. It passed the cabin close enough for the noise to rattle snow from the roof.
There were munitions under the wing.
“What was that?” Heather called.
“A flight of F-16s,” Earl answered.
Heather was behind him, buttoning her shirt. “Maybe they’re just on a training flight?”
The first one was banking back over the mountain. “Doubt it.”
“But…you’re okay, and they think I’m dead!”
The fighters gained a bit of altitude and began a long circle around the cabin. Earl watched the orange glow of their exhaust. That was an awful lot of firepower. There was another noise in the distance. A helicopter. “We’ve got company coming. Might as well get presentable.”
“Should we run?”
“Naw,” Earl shook his head. “That’s the thing about Hunters. Once they find you, if you run, it just makes them want to chase you that much harder.”
The conflict on her face was obvious to read. Instinct was telling her to flee, but she trusted him. “You’d better be right, Earl.”
“We’ll see what they’ve got to say. Besides, if they were really out to get us, they’d just have dropped a bomb on the place.”
Earl splashed some water on his face, finished getting dressed, and then confirmed that their belongings were ready to go. They’d already been packed to leave in the morning. Heather was too nervous to talk. Earl did his best to comfort her, but he didn’t know what was happening, either. You didn’t send the air force if you were planning nothing more than a friendly visit. “Stay inside. They might not know about you,” Earl warned Heather before giving her a gentle kiss. “I’ll be right back.”
“You’d better,” she warned him. “I don’t want to do CPR on you again, okay?”
“You’re really good at it, though.”
He closed the door behind him. There was an overhang to protect the entrance from the snow, so Earl lit a cigarette and settled down beneath it to wait. Two minutes later, a Chinook helicopter with no markings landed in front of the cabin. Four armored figures disembarked as soon as the ramp hit the ground. They fanned out in a protective circle while a fifth man strolled down the ramp. The stranger walked directly toward the cabin without even taking the time to orient himself. The four soldiers formed a line behind him and followed.
The stranger was tall, and despite his heavy coat, obviously thin. He trudged along through the snow at an energetic clip. Despite their camouflage-painted, ceramic-plate armor that made MHI’s heavy suits look svelte in comparison, the soldiers kept up. As they got closer, Earl noted that the leader’s head was bared to the elements, and that he was completely, shiny, bald. He was also wearing a pair of oddly colored, orange-lensed sunglasses, even though it was pitch dark.
The Chinook’s twin rotors were still turning, which made it difficult to understand the stranger’s greeting. He had to repeat himself as he got closer. “Good evening, Mr. Harbinger.”
Earl just nodded. “Your helicopter’s messing up my landscaping.”
The soldiers came to a silent halt a polite twenty feet away. Their leader closed the remaining distance and stopped at the overhang. “It won’t be there long.” The stranger appeared to be in his forties, six and a half feet tall, extremely long-limbed and with skin so pale that if Earl hadn’t smelled the warm blood pumping, he would’ve suspected the man was undead. He was borderline gaunt, but his movements gave off a sense of athleticism. He seemed human, just an odd one. “I’m Mr. Stricken.”
Earl made a show of not being able to hear over the chopper. “Sorry? What was that? Strickland?”
“Stricken,” he repeated.
“What? No handshake?” Earl asked.
“I’ve heard your reputation on the subject,” Stricken said. “My hobby is classical piano, so I’d prefer you not to break all the bones in my hand. May I come in?”
“No. What do you want?”
“Just a moment of your time. I can be polite or not. Your decision.” Stricken took off the orange shades, revealing albino eyes. “And I would like to speak to Ms. Kerkonen as well.”
Earl had been afraid of that. “Deputy Kerkonen died at the Quinn Mine.”