Chapter 26
The Strip was entirely clear of the choking fog. The power was out. It was strange to see Las Vegas so dark. The casinos around us were big, silent ghosts. There were some lights in the street, headlights mostly, but from only a fraction of the vehicles, and many of those seemed too dim. There were lots of people out here, military and law enforcement mostly, but only a small percentage of them appeared to be okay. Many were just wandering around shell-shocked. Understandable, since they’d all just gotten glimpses of their worst nightmares. Not everybody had the flexible mind that was a prerequisite for being a good Hunter.
At least I didn’t see any bodies, so the quarantine line had been spared for the most part. I sure hoped that wouldn’t be changing soon.
Armstrong pointed out a big, rubberized command tent, similar to the one that I’d seen the MCB use in Natchy Bottom. “That was where Stricken’s strike team was working out of. I’m going to find the rest of my men, I’ll send a few after your friend, and then I’m getting my tranquilizer gun.”
“Awesome…” I muttered as I set out for the command tent. I was so tired I could barely think.
The silhouette of the Last Dragon towered above us. It had seen better days. Most of the windows were broken. Gigantic chunks of the conference center were missing. The gardens were one big muddy hole. The spot where I’d fallen down and hurt my leg was now just a smoking ruin from Milo’s last improvised explosive device. I couldn’t see any movement and had no idea if any of the others had made it back.
“Do you think they’re okay?” Holly whispered.
“Most of them,” Mosh answered. I looked at him and he blinked slowly. “What? You can’t hear him? Mordechai just said that most of them made it back.”
“Well…Huh…” At least now I wasn’t the only psychic in the family.
“You can have your dead guy back now,” Mosh insisted. “What? No…Why? Because I don’t want to be a crazy person, okay…Back off, old man. Shit. He says I’m easier to talk to than you…Go screw yourself. I’m evicting you as soon as this is over.”
I winced as I made it down the stairs. This had better be over soon, because my ankle and foot had swollen so much that I was now bleeding between my boot laces. At least Gretchen’s healing swill had really kicked in because I wasn’t in as much pain, either that or the nerves had just given up and died. Great. Whatever worked.
There was a Blackhawk parked in front of the tent, and it must have been here when the fog hit, because the pilots were sitting inside. One was crying and rocking back and forth while the other one was just staring blankly out the window. “I think that’s Franks’ ride.”
Normally there would be guards posted on the entrance, but they had probably fled. One MCB agent was curled up in the fetal position behind the tent flap, wearing his gas mask, and muttering something about crocodiles over and over again.
“Looks like it was a real party out here when that pillar came down,” Mosh said.
The interior of the command tent was in disarray. Most of the equipment had lost power. Half the screens were dead, and the other half were static. Most of the stations were unmanned, and there were a couple of people hiding under their desks, but there was a group of men in the center of the tent, and these were coherent enough to be arguing.
I recognized the new MCB Director Doug Stark from his address at ICMHP. He was on one end of the group, red-faced and shouting. There were half a dozen other MCB agents around him. Across from Stark, with his back to me, was the broad, imposing shape that could only be Agent Franks. It took quite a bit of guts, or perhaps insanity, to yell at Franks, but Stark was going for the gold.
“You will stand down, mister. You violated direct orders. Direct orders from the highest authority! You broke into a secure facility and stole top-secret government property. You’ve gone too far this time, Franks. They’re going to burn you for this!”
Franks shrugged. “Eh…”
One of the other agents stepped forward. It was Grant Jefferson. “Director, we’re being used by STFU. I saw their attempt. They tried their weapon and when it didn’t work, they bailed out to let us take the blame.”
“Nonsense,” Stark shouted. “You’re another one of Myers’ loyalists. You’re all out to get me. You and those fish men!” Stark shook his fist in the air. I looked around. Fish men? Holly shrugged. “The monster has been defeated, and now you want to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory. We need to concentrate on damage control and what we’re going to tell the press.”
I spoke up. “The monster will be back soon.”
Franks turned around. He didn’t seem surprised to see me. “Did you kill the host?”
“Permanently this time. The alp is coalescing in the tunnels before it goes hunting for a new host. I figure we’ve got a couple of minutes, tops.”
“Alp? That’s classified!” Stark sputtered. “Who told you that?”
Franks looked me over. “You understand the risk?” I nodded. I was host bait, and if we didn’t manage to kill this thing fast and it got me, I was going to end up in a coma. “We’ll meet it in the open.”
“The open! We’ve been ordered not to take any public action. The open is like…extra public!” Stark bellowed. “You will all stand down. Mr. Stricken said—”
“The situation has changed, sir. Stricken has left the area. He got on the last chopper out ahead of the fog,” Grant said gently. He turned to me. “If the host is gone, now’s our chance. STFU tried to attack the creature with one of the ancient weapons we had in the vault. The thing was, with the host still being alive it didn’t work. It might now.”
“Ancient weapon?” I asked.
I hadn’t seen Agent Archer standing off to the side. “We watched when Stricken’s men responded to our dist—uhm…” Agent Stark was staring at him. “When that car blew up in the garage earlier. They had an old sword.”
“A sword? That’s it?” But then again, I’d already seen repeatedly that our forefathers had been very creative when it came to coming up with mystical ways to win this fight. Hell, I’d blown up an Old One with something originally conceived by Isaac Newton.
“A magic sword,” Archer corrected. “I identified it from our inventory roster. MCB’s been seizing mystical items since our founding. We’ve got a warehouse full of interesting things for study. STFU checked this one out and then locked down the rest of the collection. According to the write-up, this one was supposed to be able to banish otherworldly creatures. Too bad their plan didn’t work, probably since the monster wasn’t otherworldy enough when it was still attached to a human being.” Archer held up the broken hilt of what looked like an old Viking sword. “We found this still attached to the STFU man’s hand.”
Franks pointed at a long nylon case on the ground at his feet. “I stole more. Want one?”
“That’s it. Seize Agent Franks!” Stark ordered. All of the other MCB agents seemed really nervous, but none of them made a move. Having worked with Franks, I couldn’t blame them. I’d rather seize a rabid honey badger. “What are you waiting for? Place Agent Franks under arrest!”
Apparently Franks had finally had enough. He covered the distance in two big steps and grabbed Agent Stark by the throat. Stark reached for his pistol but Franks simply took it away and dropped it on the floor. The other agents were too shocked to do anything. Stark struggled, but Franks dragged him in and, almost gently, placed him in a choke hold.
While Stark struggled and gasped for air, Franks calmly began to give orders. “Archer, get comms up. Call air support. Pasztory, evacuate the locals. Jefferson, Liu, on heavy weapons. The rest of you find anyone who can fight. Meet out front in two minutes.” Stark was turning blue and flopping around from lack of air. Franks looked at his men, obviously displeased that they hadn’t snapped to.
“Uh…The director…You’re sorta…” Archer was trying to frame it as a question. “That’s not good…” He looked to the other agents for support, but they were all too aware of what Franks was capable of. “This is bad, isn’t it?”
Stark was finally unconscious. If Franks wanted to kill him he would’ve just snapped his neck. The big agent dumped his superior’s limp body on the ground. Stark lay there drooling down his cheek. “Move out.”
The MCB agents fled. I didn’t need to be a government employee to know that this was going to cause some really serious repercussions for Franks, who wasn’t human and only existed because the MCB allowed him to. “Will you be in trouble?” I asked.
“Yes,” he answered simply. Franks went over to the bag and unzipped it. He rummaged around inside, pulled out a battle-ax and tossed it to me, heedless of whether I was ready to catch something heavy and razor-sharp or not. “Familiar?”
I managed to snag it by the handle and kept both my thumbs. Lighter than it looked, it still had a bright orange inventory sticker on it. The wooden handle was worn smooth and strangely comfortable in my grip. The metal seemed warm to the touch. I knew this blade. I didn’t just know it from using it myself, but I knew it from another man’s unholy memories. “Holy shit.” It was thousands of years old, and if it was in fact magic, it was only because of the sheer number of lives it had taken had given it a sort of life of its own. “This is Lord Machado’s ax.”
“I’ll need it back,” Franks said. He removed a Roman gladius from the bag and tested the weight by tossing it back and forth between his hands. It looked way too small on him.
“You got any more magic swords in there?” Mosh asked hopefully. Franks pulled out a bone-handled dagger. It was about the size of a glorified steak knife. Mosh took it reluctantly. “Seriously?”
Holly had relieved the stunned guard in the entrance of his G-36K carbine. She laughed at Mosh’s little knife. “I’d be embarrassed to let anyone see me with that.”
“Shut up,” Mosh said as he read the inventory sticker. “This one’s called the Black Heart of Suffering. That sounds evil. Is it evil?”
“Way evil,” Franks said.
“Sweet.”
The ground quaked beneath our feet.
“It’s coming.”