Age of Blood

56

YaYa had seen a ’cabra run to the edge of the pipe and slip free, falling to the pool below. It hit the water with a great splash, moved to try and get up, then sagged back into the water. Soon, it trembled and shuddered as its head fell beneath the surface. Its body spasmed as it choked and drowned.

YaYa had barked at the scene. Even when one of the men on the temple came down and kicked him, he still barked. All he could do was bark. It was his sole voice. As he did so, pieces of who he once was returned to him.

Scenes from a mall.

A run on the beach.

The cherry-flavored kisses of a woman called Kelly Manfredi.

The camaraderie of friends.

The gloriously acrid bite of an ice cold Coke first thing in the morning.

The smell of hot shawarma on a cool day.

Standing at attention saluting the Red, White, and Blue.

As the images came, he grabbed them and tried to hold fast. He knew he had to. His body had been remade. His mind was that of a dog. His left arm was twice its size, black and orange pus evidence of the foreign invasion making everything happen. But his soul was still his own. He was still Chief Petty Officer Ali Jabouri and a United States Navy SEAL. He didn’t know what any of that meant, but he knew that it had once filled him with pride. He wanted a return of that pride. He wanted to find out what a Petty Officer was. He wanted to relearn what it was to be a SEAL. More importantly, he no longer wanted to be a dog, soul-chained to a creature that lived in his arm and controlled him at the cellular level.

He’d been jerking at the chain holding him and it was loose. He knew he only needed a few more hard pulls, and he’d be free. But then what? With every passing second he was becoming more and more human.

Then came the gunfire and he knew who it was. He knew the type of gun. He could envision breaking it down. The image of a tall blond man came to him—Walker. He remembered when the other man had saved him from the warehouse in Myanmar. He remembered when they’d ridden the old Ural motorcycle and played chicken with the supernatural Chinese creature known as a qilin. He remembered being pulled into the woods and barely saving himself. And of course he remembered driving a blade into the back of the ancient demon Chi Long.

Where had that person gone? He wanted to be that person again. He wanted to re-become Chief Petty Officer Ali Jabouri, aka YaYa, aka U.S. Navy SEAL assigned to Special Mission Unit SEAL Team 666. He screamed at the universe but it came out as a bark.

Someone kicked him.

He whimpered.

He fell to the ground and curled into a ball. He covered his head with his hands and thought about who he really was. And with each passing moment, more and more came back to him, more and more of who he’d been and who he’d be again. Like a dog that sat on a porch watching a truck go by day after day, year after year, he promised himself that one day he’d leap from the porch and catch the truck, the moment he’d wrap his strong jaws around the bumper as rapturous as the invention of the universe.