"What's on your mind?" I asked quietly.
Julie had pulled me aside once we had disembarked at the small airport. A U.S. Air Force C-130 Hercules was refueling nearby, and soon we would be on our way back to the States. The night sky was bright under the nearly full moon and I could make out the shape of Agent Franks shadowing us thirty feet away. He was scanning the chain link fence, looking for anything moving in the desert scrub. The man certainly took his job seriously. They were running some sort of loud compressor near the aircraft, so I wasn't worried about him overhearing us. Julie and I stood in the darkness behind a diminutive aircraft hangar while we talked about the day's events.
"This is crap," she hissed. "I'm so sick and tired of the Feds." She was obviously upset, and her pretty features were drawn into a hard scowl.
"And . . ." I prompted. I knew her too well. There was obviously something else.
She grimaced. "And what the hell were my parents doing here? I hate to say it, but when they offered a truce, I actually believed it. If they ever did anything against us, Earl would make it his life's work to track them down. I at least thought they had the sense of self-preservation to avoid that."
"Believe it or not, I think the truce is still in effect. . . ." I briefly explained the nature of Susan's visit, but I'm ashamed to say that I held something back. I did not mention Susan's promise that Julie was going to die from the mark. I felt bad for withholding information, and I would tell her, but just not yet. For all I knew, Susan was lying, scheming, trying to find some way to unite more of her family into her dark world, the evil bitch.
"A shard of the artifact? How? It disappeared in Childersburg. I always assumed that the Feds got it when they cordoned off the area. How did my mom end up with part of it?"
I shrugged. "Beats me. All I know is that it hurt like hell when she touched me with it. I'm scared to death of that thing."
"Do you think . . ." She searched for the words. "Could it be starting again?"
"I don't know," I answered. I hugged her tight. I was terrified of the things that artifact had done, and could do, and more especially, what it allowed me to do. I'd rather kill myself than risk turning those things loose. "I just don't know."
"Oh, Owen . . . I've got a bad feeling about this. I thought I'd lost you."
"I'm not going anywhere. I promise." Saying that made me think of another promise. "I lost my gear. The pistols you gave me . . . your brother's pistols. They meant a lot—"
She stopped me flat. "We can replace the guns. I can't replace you."
Franks shouted at us, "It's time." As if to accentuate his words, the big engines turned over and the props began to roar.
"He's such an asshole." Julie mumbled into my shoulder. She pushed slowly away, and we started toward the waiting plane. "Speaking of which . . ." She raised her voice, "Agent Franks!"
The Fed nodded in her direction.
"At DeSoya Caverns, last summer, I asked if you had taken care of my father, I asked if you had let him turn into a vampire, and if you had let him escape. Since Owen just saw him, I'm assuming that you lied to me." Julie was intimidating when she was angry.
I don't think Franks' brain was wired with the capability of being intimidated. Franks shrugged. "Classified," he said simply, turned and walked toward the plane.
"Oh, hanging out with him is just going to be a blast, won't it?" she asked.
"And for a while there I thought that me and Franks had come to terms. . . ." We walked under the runway lights. The C-130 was drastically loud. The other Feds were carrying their gear up the loading ramp.
"Mr. Pitt? Ms. Shackleford?" A black-clad agent approached us. He had removed his helmet and balaclava and had tucked them under one arm. This one was young, and seemed friendly enough. His skin was deeply tanned, his neatly buzzed hair black, and his eyes twinkled when he smiled. There was a squat but heavy-looking duffle bag slung over one shoulder. He shouted to be heard over the engines. "I'm Agent Torres. I'm on your protective detail. It's an honor to meet you." He held out one gloved hand, and surprised, I shook it. It was not normal for the Feds to be nice to MHI personnel.
"You must be new," I shouted.
"Yes. Just assigned to the Bureau. I came over from Border Patrol." He shook Julie's hand as well, and his face betrayed his surprise at the impressive strength in her handshake. I had had that reaction the first time I met her as well. "Ms. Shackleford, I read up on your family in the Monster Control academy. Wow, all I can say is, wow . . . You guys are amazing. Your great-grandfather was one of the pioneers of Monster Hunting. This is a real honor."
"Well, thanks," Julie stammered. Apparently I wasn't the only one surprised at meeting a friendly agent. My usual encounters with them involved bullying, threats, intimidation, and the occasional fist fight.
He unslung the duffle bag and handed it to me. "I think this belongs to you."
The bag was as heavy as it looked. I unzipped it, peered inside, and was greeted with a wonderful sight. "Abomination!" I shouted. I put the bag down and pulled out my customized Saiga shotgun. I pulled back the charging handle to check the chamber and the bolt was as slick as ever. It was a brutal weapon, a shortened, full-auto, magazine-fed 12-gauge, complete with underslung 40mm grenade launcher, EO-Tech holographic optic, and—the pièce de résistance—a side-folding, silver-inlaid bayonet. Abomination and I had been through some serious things together. It wasn't just my gun, it was damn near my friend.
"And my STIs . . . And my armor!" I was really geeking out now. My two .45s, built originally for Julie's brother Ray, had been put back in their holsters. The only thing missing was my Ganga Ram, last seen lodged in a zombie's skull. "No freaking way. This is awesome." In my defense, you don't get very far in my line of work unless you really get to know and love your equipment. "I thought these babies were gone forever . . . how did you find them?"
Torres seemed rather proud of himself. "My team secured the perimeter at the prison. I found this bag in the hands of a fat Federale, dead in the parking lot. Looked like he was planning on taking these home, but he'd been ripped apart, you know, and the bag was open, and when I shined my light on it, I saw this." He pointed at the Happy Face patch. "And I've heard how hard it is to earn one of those! I figured if you were still alive, you were going to want your gear back." He shrugged. "No biggie."
I had to resist the urge to hug him. "Thanks, Agent Torres. I appreciate it."
"Consider it a professional courtesy. Hey, I'm going to help guard you for awhile. Just call me Anthony." He shook my hand again. "Really nice to meet you guys. I've got to go." He smiled, waved, looking almost like an embarrassed teenager, and ran to rejoin his team on the ramp.
I turned to look at Julie. She was as perplexed as I was. She mouthed the word "damn." I put Abomination back in the bag and zipped it shut. When I picked up the duffle, the weight seemed familiar and reassuring.
"Maybe this won't be as bad as we thought," I said. "I didn't know the Monster Control Bureau employed anybody nice."
"He must have slipped past Human Resources."