Monster Hunter International

"Um… Through here is the formal living room. Now this one, we used a little, for guests and that kind of thing." I followed her through another set of double doors into a much less lavish room. This one was under drastic construction. Tarps had been thrown over the furniture, and sawdust covered almost everything. Only one wall was not in the process of being stripped and repainted. It was covered in painted portraits of Julie's ancestors.

"Five generations of Monster Hunters," she proclaimed, "and a few who decided to stay out of the family business, but we still love them too. Even if they are strange." There were dozens of paintings. Most done in a classically formal style, kind of stuffy, and not really befitting the homespun, slightly insane, good nature of the family as I knew them. The first painting was of Raymond "Bubba" Shackleford, followed by a picture of his wife and children, and then each of the succeeding generations after that. There was a single blank spot on the wall where Raymond II was missing, but other than that there were a lot of pictures up there. In totality it created a beast of a family tree. The last of the pictures were of people I recognized. The Ray Shackleford IV that I knew as a wild-eyed lunatic was captured on canvas as a handsome, square-jawed man. His wife, Susan, had looked almost exactly like Julie did today. My tour guide's portrait must have been taken when she was younger. I did not feel that the painting had done her justice. She looked slightly artificial. I felt for the painter, capturing something like Julie's beauty had to be difficult. You could get the technical details correct, but how did you convey the spirit?

"Lot of Raymonds. Must be kind of hard to keep track of them."

"It's a bit of a tradition. Oldest son got the name. I'm the oldest in my family, so it went to my younger brother." She pointed at one of the last of the portraits. He resembled his father.

"Where's he now?"

"Dead," she said sadly. "It's been a few years."

"I'm sorry."

"No. He died well. You can't be sorry for somebody that brave. You can be sad, but not sorry. He earned his plaque at the compound. Even the best of us get it eventually."

"What happened?" I don't know why I asked her, but I did. She hesitated only briefly before speaking.

"1995. At the Christmas party, Monster Hunter International's one-hundredth anniversary. He was one of the ninety-seven Hunters killed that night. He was just a Newbie, but he fought like a champion. You should have seen him. He sure was something."

"I've never heard the whole story."

She gestured at one of the tarp-covered couches. I sat, and she sat next to me, under the watchful painted eyes of her ancestors. We sunk into the deep cushions with a rustle of plastic. I could taste the sawdust in the air.

"It was a great party. Hunters know how to throw a great party-you know, live fast, party hard, die young. That kind of philosophy tends to grow amongst people with such a dangerous job. Everybody who wasn't in the middle of a case was there, so most of us at least. Well anyway, it was at a resort near Gulf Shores, right on the beach. Beautiful spot, Dad had picked it out, reserved it for us. At the time I was just glad that he seemed to be coming out of his mourning, coming out of the archives, and participating with the living again. I had been worried about him for so long. Little did I know that he had picked that spot because it was the right place and the right time for his damned summoning." She brushed aside some dust. "I should have seen it coming."

"You couldn't have known. Nobody could have."

"I know, but that doesn't change the fact that it was my job to know. I'm the historian. I'm the researcher. I'm supposed to be the one with the answers. That's my job, and this one was right under my nose. I knew Dad was sad about Mom's death, but I never expected him to do something like this. The resort was his Place of Power. We didn't know until later that it was built on top of what used to be some tribe's sacred ground. It was his chance to bring her back. While the rest of us were gathering down at the resort, he planted a bomb in the archives. None of us ever learned the real logic behind that. He had the information he needed stored in his head, so he probably wanted to destroy the books that had the information on how to stop him, just in case. That's my guess anyway. Burned a big chunk of it down."

She sighed, apparently studying her father's portrait, trying to discern reason behind the painted mask. She continued, "Every Hunter that could be there, was there. Even the retired ones. Lots of wives, husbands, girlfriends, boyfriends, dates, it was a great big party. Even the caterers and the bartenders had been picked from people who knew what was up. People who knew about monsters and who and what we were. We could let our hair down. There weren't any secrets being kept in that room. I don't know why Dad wanted such an audience, but he had it.

"At midnight, Dad went to the center of the dance floor, splashed some blood in a circle, and said a few words. I think most of the folks near him thought that he was just drunk or something. I saw him doing it, I didn't understand, but I knew that it was wrong. I knew that something bad was about to happen. His voice became louder, almost like he was talking with a megaphone. I've heard about every language there is, but not this one. Whatever it was, it wasn't meant to be pronounced with a human tongue. The blood caught on fire and the floor under him disappeared, it just kind of opened right up. I was far enough away that I didn't get to see where it opened to, but some of the others did. They died first."

"What was it?" I asked.

Julie appeared shaken as she recalled the memory. "A rift. To someplace else, we don't really know where. We say hell, but that isn't really right, that's just our way of explaining something that we don't understand, but it was not on Earth, that's for sure. Things came out of that rift, bad things. I can't even begin to describe them. They tore through the party like the Hunters were made out of tissue paper. Dad's plan had gone wrong. Bad wrong."

She unconsciously clenched her fists, the muscles in her jaw contracted, and her eyes narrowed angrily at the memory.

"We fought. We fought hard. But we had been caught unaware, and these things were tough. More and more of them kept pouring through the hole every second, and they weren't going to stop. We held them, we killed them until their husks were piled waist-deep. We couldn't retreat, because they just kept flooding out the rift. If we gave up at the gate then these things would have filled the country, don't ask me how I know that, but somehow we all did. Every inch we gave up was one more inch that would no longer belong to our world, it would belong to them. Everybody stood and fought. No Hunter ran."

I reached over and grasped her hand. She was shaking.

"We didn't have armor-hell, all I had was a cute little black dress. All we had were handguns, of course everybody was packing, I mean, think about the crowd that we're talking about here. Some Hunters made it to their vehicles and grabbed heavier weapons and came back, others had been thoughtful enough to have some already stashed at the resort. After the first few minutes I was out of ammo and down to using a table leg as a club. My brother Ray stood with me, all he had was a broken beer bottle. I watched… watched as something pulled his intestines out and painted the ceiling with them. I killed it, but I was too late. I didn't even have time to see him die. I was too busy fighting."

Silent moments passed as she regained her composure. She lifted her glasses and wiped under her eyes. "Sorry."

"No… no, that's okay," I said.

"Right after my brother was hit, something big bumped against the rift. Unbelievably big. It's hard to explain, but all I saw was its pupil, but that was bigger than this house. The rift was growing. It was coming through into this world. Grenades and rockets just made it blink. If it came through, then this world was gone. We all knew it. Earl saved us. He made his way into the rift. He killed anything that came near him. He came out a second later with my dad slung over his shoulder. When Dad was pulled through, the rift collapsed. We had beaten them. Whatever they were.

"Then we had to run. The resort had caught on fire, the building was coming down. I carried one of my wounded friends out, and by the time I made it outside she had already started to convulse… Poor Piper. Apparently the monsters from the rift were poisonous. She died in my arms. The building burned. It was still burning when the Feds arrived. It burned for three straight days. Nothing could put it out. When it was done there was nothing but ash, and charred bones that weren't human."

She stared off into space, reunited once more with the memories of her fallen family and comrades. I did not speak.

"Three quarters of us were dead. And some who had been too close to that rift just walked away and never came back. Ninety-seven dead Hunters and forty dead guests and resort staff. Within a few days an executive order was issued and we were shut down. The Feds took my dad away. The news reported that an oil tanker had run aground and caught fire. I went to a lot of funerals."

"Julie. I don't know what to say."

She put her head down and cried softly. I put my arm around her and waited for her to stop. She sobbed a few times as she was temporarily overcome with emotion.

"I'm okay." She raised her head, sniffed, but then pushed away and stood proudly. "And now you know about us. You know the whole story. And you know why I don't give a shit if that son of a bitch who claims to be my father lives or dies. It would be better for a whole lot of people if his damned black heart quit beating, but if he lives, I think that Appleton is far too nice a place to hold him. If I had my way I would have left him in that rift. He's caused too much pain. He isn't my father. He's nothing but a monster. And I'll be damned if I'm going to let him be taken to help some other monster unleash that kind of terror on my world again."

"I know."

"Good." She stopped. "I loved my brother. I miss him still. And I lost friends, people I've known since I was a kid. I hold him responsible for this. So that's why I've been acting the way I have. I'm sorry if I've been harsh, but I'll kill him before I let him go free."

"If anything, I think you've shown remarkable restraint. Thanks for telling me the story." She was an interesting woman to say the least. I was still curious. "What did you do next?"

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"After the company was shut down, until we started back up. What did you do?"

"Well…" She sat back down next to me with a creak of plastic. I don't think that she had expected to continue her story. "I went back to school. Finished up my degrees. I tried to be normal for a while."

"Normal?" I had been struggling with the concept myself, doubting myself, my choices, and my abilities. It was strange to hear Julie, super Monster Hunter Julie Shackleford, say the same thing. Strange, but comforting.

"You know. Not a crazed monster killer. I didn't fight evil. I didn't do anything like that. I went to college. I went on dates. I got a job. I didn't really need the money, but I wanted to be like everybody else. I started working on this house as a hobby. I painted."

"You paint?"

"A little," she answered sheepishly.

"Can I see them?" I asked.

"They're not very good. Maybe another time."

"I bet they're fine," I assured her. "Another time then."

"Earl kept hunting. Only now he had to work out of the country and had to compete against established companies, with more assets and the backing of their respective governments. Milo and Sam and the others like them kept hunting free-lance overseas. They would contact me, invite me to come work with them, but I always turned them down. I wanted to pretend that world never existed."

"I can see why."

"Grandpa got sick. The shock of what his son had done almost killed him. He actually came and lived here for a while with a nurse. You can imagine how well he did without Hunters to boss around. I tried to help him, but even he encouraged me to go work with Earl and the other survivors. I turned him down too, and I think it made him even sicker. I vowed that the family legacy was going to die with me. No more Shacklefords were going to hunt monsters ever again."

"So what happened?" I asked. I could not imagine having gone through the things that she had. It made me put my own family relationships in perspective. Nobody in my family had ever summoned any demons. At least as far as I was aware.

"I was in school. Students started disappearing on campus. Young girls. The police said that it was a serial killer. The whole community was scared to death. But I knew what it really was. I could recognize the signs. I ignored it at first. It was somebody else's problem. That world didn't exist for me anymore. I was just a grad student working on my thesis. I pretended that it was just a normal human killer, and that the authorities would handle it."

"It didn't work out did it?"

"It never does… A friend of mine was next. Got nailed while coming out of the library late one night. They never found her head. She was a nice kid. Freshman, from a little town in Illinois if I remember right. That one was my fault, don't try to disagree, you of all people understand, Owen. I tracked the vampires down. I found their lair. They were sloppy new creations. Weak, stupid and hungry. I went in alone, first time I've ever hunted solo. I spent the whole day staking and chopping. Going from one coffin or hole to the next. Finally I thought that I was going to run out of daylight before I had found them all, so I used some of those homemade Molotovs and burned the science building down. The killings stopped and the cops figured that their imaginary serial killer had moved on. Police never caught the arsonist." She smiled weakly. "I finished my dissertation the next week, boarded up this house, and joined Earl and the others on a case in Uruguay. A few years later, we're back in business. I've never looked back."

"Are you glad?"

"What do you think?" She snorted. "I was deluding myself in school. Normal is an illusion. Normalcy doesn't exist." She gestured at the wall of paintings. "That is normal. These people are real. All that stuff I told you back at your apartment, when we were trying to recruit you. Yes. I do actually believe that. I believe in what we do. It's more than just the job. It's more than the PUFF check."

"It's a calling," I said.

We sat in silence beneath the pictures. We had an understanding.

"You have another brother?" I asked, pointing at the last picture. He looked more like Julie.

"Nate," she laughed. "He wants to kill monsters so bad he can taste it."

"Where's he at now?"

"Seattle. He went through the last class of Newbies. He's doing okay from what I hear. I made sure that he's with a great team who'll keep him alive long enough that his enthusiasm gets tempered with experience. He's nineteen. You'll like him. He's just insane enough to be entertaining…" She put her hand on my knee. I could not tell if she had done it on purpose or if she had done it without thinking. Either one was fine with me. "Well, that's pretty much the tour. Sorry I got all blubbery and emotional on you."

"Julie. If you didn't get emotional about that, then you wouldn't be human. Thanks for the tour. I can tell you love this house."

"I can't say why, but I do. One of these days I'm going to get it all fixed up. I could probably hire professionals to do it and just get it over with, but that doesn't seem right. There are a lot of memories here…" She suddenly snapped her fingers. "Wait a second, I've got something for you." She jumped up, and walked quickly to the door. "I'll be back in a minute, I've just got to find it."

I sat on the plastic covered couch and waited. After a few minutes I grew restless and decided to check out the portraits more closely. The Shacklefords were one interesting group-heroes, villains and everything in between. I stood close to the wall and examined the intricate paintings. Julie's grandfather had been a handsome man before he had lost his eye and been so disfigured. I could see the resemblance to his son, and they both looked slightly like Earl Harbinger. I was not exactly sure how he was related, but there was no picture of him on the wall, and there were no Harbingers listed at all. Looking at the other pictures, I decided that Julie was very lucky that she took after her mother. Besides the lack of glasses and the slightly outdated hairstyle, they could have been the same person. I would imagine that a historian would be able to compile quite the entertaining book about this family. Of course the government would probably end up sending somebody like Agent Franks to the author's home to shoot him in the brain.

The one blank spot on the wall was interesting, but I did not dwell on it for long. Even an auditor's curiosity only runs so deep when there are other matters at hand.

Julie returned with a dust-covered, wooden case. "Found it." She sat it on the tarped-over table and opened the metal clasps. "Now you are going to appreciate this, Mr. Gun Nut." She opened the box with a flourish. Inside the molded case were two pistols. One was big, and the other small, a matched pair, down to the finishes. "Go ahead. Check them out."

The guns were custom. STI frames, the full-size had an extended, threaded barrel, and was complete with a rail for a mounted light. The smaller one was a custom chopped version, cut down in every possible dimension for concealment. For a competition nut like myself, these pistols were the kind of thing that I dreamed about. Normal men had pornography. I had gun magazines. They were beautiful.

"Twenty-eleven frame, fourteen rounds of.45 in the big one, twenty with the extended mags. Ten in the little one, but it can take the full-size mags, they just hang out a bit. I worked them over so they're reliable with our silver bullets. Match barrels, these are scary accurate. But clearances are loose enough that these should be able to get really gunked up and still work fine," she told me proudly. I pulled back the slide to check the chamber, and it glided as smoothly as silk. I checked the trigger. The hammer fell with a snap. It was possibly the nicest trigger I had ever felt on any weapon, ever.

"These were made for somebody with mutant hands, notice even the long trigger. Extended safeties for shooting high thumb; beaver tail, small mag release so big-handed shooters don't release them by accident; you guys don't need to shift your grip to change mags anyway."

"Sweet. Did you do these yourself?"

"They were an old project."

I gently put the guns back in the box. "They're beautiful. Much nicer than my old one. I've gone through quite a few guns this week."

She closed the box, snapped the clasps closed, and shoved it over toward me. I looked at it in confusion for a moment.

"You'd better be more careful with these then. Lose them and I'll kill you."

"But, but… you're just giving these to me?" I asked. "Why?"

"I have these lying around the house. They don't fit me at all. Some Hunter with ham fists needs to put them to good use, and you currently don't have a pistol at all. My little brother won't use them. He's a Glock nut. The poor deluded bastard. Plus the way these things shoot, they need to be in the hands of a real pistolero. You'll have to do." She smiled. "Consider it my way of saying thank you for saving my life."

"Thanks," I said. It was the nicest gift that anyone had ever given me.

"Look, I've got to go," she said, sounding almost sheepish. "I need to take care of some things."

"Thanks," was all that I could think of to say.

"Don't mention it." She winked at me and walked away.

I watched her leave the room before opening the case and examining the fine weapons again. I did not want to look like a total dweeb in front of her, but for me, Christmas had come real early. Grinning like an idiot, I field-stripped and checked the guns. The case even came with a cleaning kit. I lubed the guns, and did several practice draws, adjusting my grip each time, until the sights snapped unconsciously into place. Finally I forced myself to put them down. I needed to take over for Trip on the perimeter. It was my turn to stand guard.

I noticed something as I started to shut the case. The foam in the top half had come slightly undone. Between the foam and the wood was an envelope. The envelope was blank, but it contained a small handwritten note.

Dear Ray,

I hope you like these. After that luska ate your other guns, I thought I would do something nice for you. I built these up just the way you like them. Milo's been teaching me everything he knows about gunsmithing, and I think that these have come out really good.

Dad's doing better. He's been really excited, looking forward to the 100th anniversary party. Should be a blast. Nate's bummed he can't come. Earl is doing good. Piper Cavanaugh has been dying to talk to you. I think she has a crush on you. She's cute. You two should hook up. See you at the party.

I love you, Bro. Hope you like the guns.

Julie

12/2/95

I carefully refolded the note, placed it in its envelope, and put it back in the case.

Trip was waiting for me on the porch. We were not taking any chances, and were taking turns with one heavily armed and armored Hunter outside to watch the skies for more gargoyles. Of course all of us were wearing our radios, and the person patrolling the outside checked in constantly. If there had been more of us available, we would have worked in pairs and had a better rotation, but as it was, there were only the four of us on our little baby-sitting detail.

"Holly is watching the video feeds. Julie has one heck of a system installed here. Don't go more than twenty yards from the building or you'll probably activate a sensor. Check in with her every few minutes." He handed me the RPG. If anything suspicious landed on the property, we weren't going to screw around. The huge rocket-propelled grenade would take out an armored vehicle, so a gargoyle would not be a significant problem. "You learned how to use one of these, right?"

"Dude… please." I patted the lethal tube gently. If third-world goat herders could figure out an RPG, I wasn't worried. Even though I had not shot one yet, Milo had trained us in their basic use. I was looking forward to firing one. And if the target happened to be a ten-foot-tall, animated chunk of rock, that was fine by me.

"Never mind. I forgot I was talking to the combat accountant. I haven't seen anything except for bugs and a cottonmouth."

"Like the killer snake cottonmouth?" I asked, glancing nervously at the ground.

"Yeah, but it was just a baby. You should have seen the ones we grow in Florida. They climb trees, and drop on you. When you're on the river fishing, they will swim out to your boat and climb in. Mean little bastards," he told me this with a straight enough face that I was not quite sure if he was making it up or not. "Anyway, if you need me, I'll be on the radio."

"Okay." He started to walk away. I stopped him. "Hey, Trip, one last thing… Thanks for coming out here to help me and Julie," I told him. "I appreciate it."

"Dude, don't worry about it. Harbinger needed somebody not very important to the Feds, is all."

"Still. Thanks," I said. He shrugged and went back into the house. The screen door clattered behind him. I shifted the RPG to one shoulder and started my patrol.

The afternoon air was thick with humidity, and moisture gleamed on the surrounding foliage. The once-cleared farmland that had surrounded the plantation had been retaken by swift-growing plants, including the evil nemesis of all that was good in the plant world-kudzu. It was stiflingly hot in my armor, and sweat ran freely down my back. I had left my hockey helmet behind in favor of a simple ball cap to keep the sun out of my eyes. I sipped constantly from my CamelBak. Big guys dehydrate fast in the summer.

I did not see anything of note as I passed the time. Holly checked in every few minutes to make sure that nothing was trying to kill me, besides the bloodthirsty clouds of gnats of course. So far I liked the South. I liked the people and their attitude, but I sure could do without all of the damned gnats, mosquitoes, chiggers, ticks and other things interested in eating me.

As I approached the remains of the old slave quarters, I noticed one solid piece of construction not destroyed down to its foundations. It was a tiny building, slightly lopsided from settling over time, probably only ten feet across, but constructed out of thick-mortared stones. There was a very heavy door, but it was hanging open on massive rusty hinges. I debated it briefly, but decided to take a look inside the old relic.

It must have been some sort of prison cell for the slaves so long ago. The interior of the room was empty, but the few small windows were blocked with thick steel bars set deep into the stones. Thin shafts of light pierced the gloom, but not nearly enough to see by. The inside of the door was banded with iron slats, and the door itself was constructed of ancient pieces of wood, almost big enough to serve as railroad ties. It was a construction far heavier than possibly needed to keep anyone from escaping. There was a latch on the doorframe where a big crossbeam could be set to keep the door closed, probably held in place by a long-since-missing chain and padlock. The air was stale and damp with mildew.

I entered the cell. It was dark. I blinked a few times, but my eyes were adjusted to the summer sunlight outside. Raising Abomination slightly from its tac sling, I activated the powerful weapon-mounted flashlight. The room was instantly flooded in brightness. Much better. The texture of the stone walls was strange. It took me a moment to understand exactly what it was that I was looking at.

Scratches. Tens of thousands of scratches. Some sort of hard and sharp implement had scratched every reachable surface. The only clear spots on the walls were more than ten feet high, but even then there were a few marks above that where the creator must have gotten a running start. I looked down. Even the floor was torn with a patchwork of deep marks. The marks were deep, as if struck into the rock with great force.

An involuntary shudder passed down my now-cold spine. I did not understand what had made the marks, but someone had spent a whole lot of time tearing at the tiny prison. It had to be hundreds of hours' worth of either methodical work, or perhaps savage frenzy. Now uncomfortable, I left the flashlight on until I was back out in the sunlight.

Holly relieved me on guard duty a few hours later. I took a turn watching the security cameras. It was a monotonous job, but somebody had to do it.

At least the little room with the monitors had a ceiling fan. The central air had died, and none of us had been able to fix it. The security system was impressive: motion detectors, pressure sensors, and video in regular and thermal images. The most paranoid recluse would be proud to own this system. Very fitting for the home of a Monster Hunter.

Holly appeared on one of the screens. I was glad to see that she had paid attention to her lessons in tactics and was varying her route to keep any tunneling creatures from being able to set up an ambush. My earpiece crackled as she checked in.

"Nada. I almost wish that something would attack. This is boring," she told me. On the monitor she moved the RPG to her other hand. "I would love to blast something. These things are awesome."

"It worked pretty good for you back on that boat."

"Yeah, you missed it since you were busy drowning. Turned those wights into chum. RPGs rock." She went back to her patrol. I went back to my monitors.

An alarm sounded and a red light on the control panel started to flash. "We have company," I said into the radio as I checked the appropriate camera. "A car is coming up the lane."

Julie's voice came over the radio. "Can you tell who it is?"

"Negative."

There was a brief pause as she digested the information. "Everybody assemble toward the front. Except for Gretchen, stay back in case one of us is wounded. Holly, use the corner of the house as cover. Trip, you and me, front porch. Owen, second-floor balcony. Be ready for anything."

"It's daylight. At least it can't be vampires," I said as I left the control room and headed for my assigned area. I swung Abomination around my back, and grabbed the flattop AR-15 that was mounted over the doorway. If I needed to engage targets off the second floor, the.223 rifle would be better suited for that task than my relatively short-range shotgun. I chambered a round. I loved Julie's idea of home decor. She had a weapon stashed every ten feet.

"It could be anything. We didn't know the CO had gargoyles either," Julie said. Now even she was using the abbreviated form.

"What if it's the Feds?" asked Holly. "I've got an RPG," she added helpfully.

"Hold your fire," Julie ordered.

Somehow, I did not find that comforting. I found a spot on the balcony overlooking the front approach. I left the window closed. If I needed to shoot, I could do so through the glass, and there was no need to give away my position beforehand. I grabbed a nearby dresser and pulled it into position to use as a rest. I gazed through the 4X magnification of the Trijicon scope. The car was a new, black Mercedes, and it was approaching rapidly, spinning up a cloud of dust behind it. I put the illuminated reticle on the car's windshield.

"I only see the driver… No visible passengers. But the windows are tinted. Hard to tell."

"Roger that," Julie responded. "Everybody get ready. I'll walk out to meet them. It might just be somebody lost, or a salesman, or the Jehovah's Witnesses or something."

"J-Dubs huh? Like I said, I've got a perfectly good RPG…" Holly offered.

"Mercedes is at two hundred yards and closing."

"Mercedes?" she responded hopefully.

"Yes. A new black one," I replied through my mike.

It was quiet. I watched the car pull into the courtyard and stop next to the dry fountain. The scope vibrated slightly as I waited for the driver to exit. We waited as the driver took his sweet time putting his sunglasses away and checking his hair in the interior mirror.

Finally the door opened and the driver's expensive Italian shoes touched down on the gravel. I exhaled slowly, perfectly balanced, ready to shoot. Julie's back appeared in my field of vision, quickly approaching the Mercedes. The man unfolded himself gracefully out of the vehicle. He was tall, handsome and wearing a finely tailored suit. Julie hugged the driver, and I watched her kiss him through 4X magnification.

Shit.

It was Grant Jefferson. The insufferable little ass-clown.

I put the safety back on the rifle, and moved the muzzle into an upward direction. I swore and violently kicked the helpless antique dresser. Grant Jefferson. Monster hunting legend… in his own mind at least. Brave hero who didn't think twice about leaving me to die. Perhaps the most stuck-up prick I had ever met, and worst of all… Julie's boyfriend.

I would have preferred vampires.

"Hello, Pitt." Grant greeted me as I stomped down the stairs. "I'm glad to see you were able to escape those gargoyles." He lied easily enough. I knew that if I had been pasted all over rural Alabama he wouldn't have shed many tears. I resisted the urge to snap-shoot the scumbag right between the eyes.

"I bet you are," I grunted.

"Owen saved my life," Julie told him. "If it hadn't been for him I'd be dead. He beat one of them to bits. Saved my dad too."

"Really? Good job… Newbie," Grant said. Trip entered behind them and rolled his eyes when he saw Grant.

"We had a little help." I thought of the farmer with the NRA hat and elephant rifle. "Some folks aren't too chicken-shit to risk their lives for somebody else."

"Owen!" Julie snapped. "We don't have time for that right now."

Grant surprised me then. I had not known that the man had any humility in him at all. "No. That's okay. I'll admit, I made a tactical error. I didn't think I could save you, so I retreated to a more advantageous position. It seemed like the prudent thing to do at the time." He draped one arm casually over Julie's shoulders.

I figured that was probably as close to an apology as he had ever mustered. I bit my tongue to keep from saying anything further. Holly entered from the back and Gretchen glided silently in from the kitchen. Julie shrugged out from under Grant's arm and sat down. She was back to business.

"So what's going on back at the compound?" Julie demanded. "And more important, how's Doctor Nelson?"

Grant adjusted his silk tie as he spoke. He did not like being ordered around, but he knew his place. "The doctor's going to be okay. He suffered a coronary, but he's stable." I breathed a sigh of relief.

"As for the compound, Myers and the Monster Control Bureau agents are still there. They want your father, badly. APBs have been issued for him, you and Pitt. They're making life difficult. All of our personnel have been grounded until Ray Shackleford is found. "

"That sucks," Julie said.

"There is good news, though. There have been undead attacks all over Georgia, Alabama and Eastern Mississippi. Looks like the seven split up to cause trouble. Over the last two days, newly created vampires, wights and zombies have wreaked havoc."

"That's good news?" Trip said incredulously.

"Sure is. The Feds are jumping, trying to contain the outbreaks, and still watch the spots they think are Places of Power. Local law enforcement doesn't have any idea what's going on because the Feds are keeping them in the dark. Every National Guardsman and Reservist in the South has been called up on emergency duty. Local officials are panicking. The news is reporting it all as terrorist attacks and Homeland Security has moved most of the Southeast to condition red."

"I'm still not grasping the 'good' part of that," Trip replied.

Grant sighed in exasperation, as if baffled by the ignorance of Newbies. "Harbinger's put the word out to all of the local officials who are on our side. The Governor's office, state legislatures, even Congress and the Senate, pretty much every pro-Hunting politician." I imagined that some of our bounty from the Antoine-Henri job had been used to grease a few palms as well. "They're putting pressure on Myers to let us go so we can do our jobs. We have contracts with these states that we can't currently fulfill because of the Feds. Lots of people are getting ticked off, and the worse the crisis gets, the more their complaints get heard by Myers' bosses in Washington. The last thing that they want is for it to get so bad that the truth can't be contained from the general populace."

"So you think they're going to let us go?" asked Holly. "The Feds are just going to back off?"

"I think so," Grant said smugly. Which I took to mean that Harbinger thought so, and Grant liked to be right. "If there are more attacks tonight like there were last night, then they aren't going to have much choice."

"I'm surprised they're doing this. It isn't like vampires to provoke confrontation with humans. They're powerful, but there are lots more of us than there are of them. Direct confrontation with the living usually gets them staked and chopped in short order. Why all of these attacks?" Julie mused.

"Because in three days, it isn't going to matter," I told them. "The seven are only here to help the Cursed One. They know that we're onto them. They have nothing to lose. They attack. They create more undead. They cause confusion and spread human forces thin. That's what they want."

"Three days?" Grant asked in confusion.

"That's when my dad says that they will use their artifact," Julie said. "Come on, what else?"

He continued, "Harbinger doesn't want to turn your dad over. He thinks the Feds have a leak. How else could the CO have known about Ray? The only people who know about him are us and them." Grant seemed saddened that this news did not shock us.

"I told you so," Trip said. I golf-clapped for him. He flipped me the bird. All in good fun of course.

Our visitor ignored our antics. "We learned some more things while you've been away." He nodded in my general direction, not quite willing to actually mention any contributions I have made, but needing to emphasize the source of their intel. "We found the name Byreika. We think we know who he is, or maybe I should say, was."

"The Old Man?" I was shocked.

He pulled a piece of paper out of his suit pocket. He carefully unfolded it and read. "Mordechai Byreika. Born in Lodz, Poland, in 1874. Freelance Monster Hunter. Did rather well for someone who worked solo, mostly in Eastern Europe. Last whereabouts were when he was arrested by Nazis in 1941, he was sent to a concentration camp, escaped, was recaptured, sent to another camp in 1943, and never heard from again." Grant handed the paper over to me. There was a single, grainy, black-and-white photograph photocopied under the information.

It was him all right. Slightly younger, not quite as worn down by age and time, but still with the same hard eyes behind small glasses. I was sure of it. In the picture he was standing, with a rifle in hand, in front of the corpse of some sort of massive scaled monster. It was a trophy shot, the kind that you took as proof to collect on a bounty.

"Is that the man, Owen?" Julie asked, standing up, and crowding next to me to see the picture. Trip and Holly followed closely, also curious to see. Gretchen was inscrutable under her burkha and shades. She wandered off toward the kitchen, probably bored and looking for something to eat.

"This is him. I'm sure of it. How did you find him?"

"His journal is in the archives. It was found on a contract mission to Prague back in the '80s."

"We collect information from old Hunters every chance we get. We aren't any smarter than the old-timers, we've just learned from their experience," Julie explained.

"Lee found it. He was cross-referencing everything in the archives, and the name stuck out. He remembered Pitt saying that name from his dreams."

"Remind me to give Albert a fat bonus when we get back," Julie said. "What's in the journal?"

"Years and years of hunting, but if you skip to the end, he was after the CO. It was kind of like a quest for him. Killing that particular monster was his Holy Grail," Grant told us. I found that a slightly ironic turn of phrase to use about a Jew. "Byreika studied him for years. He was sure that the creature's physical body was someplace in Europe. His search led him to believe that the Nazis were in league with Lord Machado."

"In league for what?" Holly asked.

"Complete and total control over time."

"Sounds familiar," I said.

"It's worse. Byreika studied this for years. He was convinced that the CO had the ability, and the insanity, to do it. The only thing holding him back was that he needed a certain artifact that was protected by some sort of ancient guardian. Once it was taken from the guardian, it had to be taken to a certain place, at a certain time, and activated with a special blood sacrifice. The journal went into a lot of details about what he thought would happen if the CO was successful."

"How bad?" all of us asked in unison.

"I don't know, haven't read it yet. But Harbinger absolutely freaked out. Said that we should shoot your dad rather than let anything come near him, including the Feds. Milo read it, and then he had to call the general authorities of his church. Even Sam didn't look so good, and I didn't even know that man's brain was wired to understand fear. I mean, I've never seen those three scared of anything before, ever."

"I've only seen them scared once," Julie stated. I thought of her story, with the giant pupil looking through the rift into our universe.

"Literally the end of the world," Grant told us as he adjusted the lapels of his expensive suit. "I mean, seriously, I'm a little nervous about the whole thing myself."

Holly cleared her throat. "This might sound bad… and I'm sorry to be the one to bring it up, but if it's that serious, why don't we just kill Ray right now?"

"Holly!" Trip sputtered. "That would be murder."

"Hey, I'm trying to be practical here," Holly retorted. "Whole world dies, or one nutcase buys it, no offense, Julie…"

"None taken," she said.

"Then I'm siding with the whole world. It's a pretty sucky place, but I like it not destroyed. Let's just plug Ray and bury him in the backyard," Holly said. I reminded myself to stay on her good side. Trip looked disgusted. Grant seemed impressed by her logic. I was morally ambivalent, but it was too damn hot to have to dig a deep enough hole to hide a body.

"I've thought of that myself," Julie told us. "But there's one problem. Dad is probably not the only way for them to find their Place of Power. I mean, Dad found a way, so that information is out there somewhere. And on the other hand, he is our only way to find out where the Cursed One is going to be…"

"So we can be waiting for the son of a bitch," I finished for her. My hand instinctively moved to the grip of my shotgun. "We need to make Ray talk."

"Stick Holly in with him for ten minutes," Trip said in disgust.

"Can I borrow your car battery and some jumper cables?" Holly batted her eyelashes innocently. "I've got fifty bucks says he talks."

"Damn, woman, you have serious issues," Trip said.

"Anything else, Grant?" Julie asked.

"Just one thing. The blood sacrifice to turn on this evil artifact… Byreika said that it had to come from a hero, a protector, a mystic champion."

Apparently none of us had a clue what that meant. I shrugged. Personally I had had about enough with the mystic garbage.

"The blood has to come from the heart of a Monster Hunter."

Chapter 19

The paper plate of ham and cheese grits was slightly heavy and oily in my hands. Needlessly polite, I knocked on the door.

"Ray, I brought you some dinner."

He snarled at me from his bed, and jerked on the handcuff, but the heavy railing snapped his arm back. He was not having a good moment. His hair was wild, his skin was pale, and his eyes were unfocused. He looked as if he was listening to something far away.

"Ray? Are you with me, buddy? Hello… anybody home?" I set the plate of grits next to him. Once again, all I gave him was a plastic utensil, and if he could take me out with a spoon, he deserved to escape.

Gradually his face returned to normal. His eyes focused on the food, and then he looked up at me.

"Sorry. I was having an episode." He sounded slightly confused.

"Not a problem." I had no idea what medications he had been on at the asylum, but we had nothing to help him with here. "I brought you dinner."

"Thanks." He took the plate and dived into the food with gusto.

"Have you given any thought to telling us some more information, Ray?" I asked politely.

"Have you given any more thought to letting me go?"

"We're talking about it," I lied. "If you gave us a little more to go on, a little something to show good faith effort, we would probably be more inclined to just turn you loose."

"I'll tell you everything I know as soon as I'm free. I'll call you from a payphone or something," he answered as he swallowed his food without chewing. Bits of grits ran into his facial hair. "Honest."

"Sure. I believe that."

"No, really. Look, once I'm free, having the world destroyed doesn't exactly fit my plans. I can't hang out with the pretty senoritas if the clock for the universe isn't ticking. I'm talking about a win-win situation."

I tried a different tack. "We found Byreika's journal. We know all about the Cursed One. We're going to figure it out without you, Ray. We'll figure it out soon enough. You help us now, you get on our good side, and then we can try to help you out."

He laughed at me. "Do you think I'm stupid? Jeez, kid. I may be a little crazy but I still have an IQ of 160. I've read that book too. All you know now is how serious your problem is. That old Jew had a lot more questions than answers. Besides, he's stuck in your head anyway, so you should already know all of this stuff."

"Why is he stuck in my head? How can he communicate with me?" I pressed for any information that I could, hoping that he would slip.

"You can't be serious? Really? Damn. My first impression was right, you are stupid. Earl must be hiring strictly by the bench press now. If you haven't figured out how that Old Man is trying to help you, then you really are up a creek. Even if I told you where to meet the Cursed One, you wouldn't know what to do when you caught him."

"What do you mean?"

"No mystery here, kid. I'm not Hannibal Lecter. I'm not trying to play mind games with you. I'm just surprised is all. You don't even know who you are, do you?"

"I know exactly who I am."

"If you did, then we wouldn't be having this conversation." He laughed at me again. "Oh shit. The world is screwed. Good night, kid. Shut the lights on your way out. Talk to me when you have a clue."

I was heading to bed when I heard the raised voices. I hurried toward the noise, thinking that it might be some sort of emergency, but slowed down when I realized it was Grant arguing with Julie in her room. She sounded rather calm, but he sounded upset.

Probably should have kept walking, but showing a real lack of character, I decided to eavesdrop through the door.

"-could have at least tried."

"Darné and his wights were right there. I swear, there was nothing I could have done except die along with him," Grant pleaded. "I don't like him, but you know I would never abandon another Hunter if there was a chance to save them, but there was no chance!"

"Well, he made it, so apparently you were wrong."

I suddenly felt very smug.

There was an awkward pause on the other side of the door.

"I know…" Grant sounded tired. It was the first time I had heard genuine emotion in his voice. "I've been dwelling on it every minute since it happened. I misjudged, and that mistake left a man to die. I left a fellow Hunter to die alone…"

Was he crying?

"Grant, it's okay, everyone makes mistakes."

"I don't… Sorry. I've got to go. See you in the morning," Grant said. I moved away from the door as fast as I could remain silent, and made it about ten feet before the door opened. I spun around, as if I had been coming from the other direction.

Grant was in fact wiping his eyes as he closed Julie's door behind him.

"Evening, Grant."

"Pitt." He nodded, then walked quickly in the other direction, his pride not able to show weakness to a rival. Especially a rival whom he had accidentally condemned to a horrible death, but I could tell by looking at him that it wasn't an act. He really was torn up by his failure. Torn up, and hurting.

I didn't feel so smug anymore.

Grant stayed the night. I still didn't like the man one iota, but it was rather nice to have one more person to pull guard duty. While it was dark, it did not do us much good to have somebody on patrol outside, so instead, we all clustered in one suite of rooms centered around Ray Shackleford's little prison. One person was awake at all times to walk the hall. The sensors had been rigged to alert us if anything bigger than a rabbit came within twenty feet of the house. We could have moved that perimeter back, but the number of deer in the woods would have been setting off alarms all night long.

Julie had taken extra precautions with Ray's room. She had put motion detectors all around his bed. If he even thought about making an escape we would all know.

Personally, I didn't think we had anything to really worry about. Nobody outside of Julie's immediate circle of friends and family knew about the home. The Heart of Dixie Historical Preservation Society was an effective front, so even if the Feds did have somebody leaking information to Lord Machado, they didn't know about this place.

I turned in for the evening. I put my armor on the ground next to the bed, weapons sitting on top. If I needed to find them quickly in the dark, it would not be a problem. I even left my pants on in case I needed to move in a hurry. My watch wasn't until 2:00 a.m. I heard Holly's boots echo in the hall. All of us were close enough that if anything bad happened, we would all know. The only people who slept far apart in a situation like this were the suckers in the horror movies.

Before I drifted off to sleep, I comforted myself that at least Grant was sleeping in a different room than Julie. I had no idea if that meant they weren't as close as I feared, or if their relationship was currently on the rocks, like I hoped, or-worst-case scenario-Julie was just trying to be polite to the rest of us. I did not really know why or how I had fallen so hard for Julie Shackleford, but I had. She was by far the most interesting, smart and attractive woman I had ever known. I cringed when I remembered seeing her kissing Grant through the rifle scope. Now that was an unpleasant thought to fall asleep on.

"Hello again, Boy," called the Old Man. He was still sitting on the stone steps of the crumbled and partially burned church. "Watch this as it goes now." He spun his little carved toy on the steps. This time it stayed upright for nearly two whole seconds before it fell over. "See, is much better this time," he said with obvious pride.

"Bravo," I said as I walked through the snow toward him. Once again I was barefoot, but the cold was not uncomfortable beneath my soles. "And I always thought ghosts floated around in white sheets and rattled chains."

"Ha. Boy thinks he is funny man now."

"You are, or were, Mordechai Byreika. Born in Lodz, Poland. Monster Hunter." He did not betray any noticeable reaction when I said that.

"Is good name. I not hear whole name in long time."

"I guess. If you were alive you would be almost a hundred and thirty."

"Is all? Time pass so slow when is stuck."

"So you're not alive, but you're stuck. Just what are you?"

"I say before. Is no important. I just friend." The Old Man scooped up his little makeshift dreidel and placed it in my hand. "Here, you take. Give to your childrens some day. Maybe they play with, and say, oy is fun."

I held the little toy in my palm. It really did look awful, but I did not have the heart to tell him since he seemed so proud. In his defense, he had been dead for sixty years. I imagined that would make a man's carving skills a little rusty. "Thanks." I tucked it into my pocket.

"Welcome. Now for me, you not worry. You stop Cursed One, you help me just fine. Maybe I get not stuck." He shrugged his narrow shoulders. "Who knows?"

"That was your mission in life. Stopping the Cursed One."

"Is hard to remember." He tapped one bony finger against his cranium. "Few things I know. Some I only think I know. But I know for sure one thing that is true. Time is short."

"Ray Shackleford says three days. I suppose two now."

"Yes. Sounds right. You must learn much very fast. Is up to you, no one else, Boy."

"I know," I answered. At this point, arguing about my purpose in life seemed rather silly, especially against the ghost in my head. "If you don't mind me asking, how did you die? Last anybody heard, the Nazis had taken you."

He hawked and spat a wad of phlegm into the snow. "Bastards. Some monsters are just men. Sometimes, worst kind of all is men. How I die? Is hard to say, is not important now."

"Did it hurt?" It seemed a stupid question.

"Is stupid question. Of course hurt. Hurt when you died, yes?"

"Yeah, I guess." Even in my dream state, the scar tissue that coated so much of my body was still thick and coarse. I thought that I had understood what pain was, until that day in my office showed me that I still had a lot to learn.

"You no guess. You know. Hurts to get cut open… Fine, I tell story, but is hard to remember. Nazis thought they could use Cursed One. Helped him… tried to do then, what he trying to do again now. Cursed One was weaker then, his body was not solid yet. He was like you, want to hurry, not want to learn. He could not get artifact himself, made deal with Nazi bastards. They stole artifact, hurt the Guardian, thought they kill, but not realize he not can die. Took to Place of Power. Here, this place, in my time." He gestured around the church.

"What happened?"

"Cursed One was fool. Time was wrong. Artifact not work. Tattooed Man came, fought here in the snow, destroyed them, took back artifact." That explained the strange dream that I had had in the hospital while I was waiting for Myers' phone call.

"He hid the artifact again. This time vampires help Cursed One. They steal artifact. Bury Guardian under mountain, but even that not kill him."

I shook my head. I had dreamed that. "No, I mean you. What happened to you?"

He shrugged. "I not important, Boy. Important thing is beat them now."

"We will," I promised.

"Only before, they wrong. They fail, and they die. Guardian kill them. Now Cursed One is smarter and stronger. He not mess up again this time… Enough. I must show you more of his memories."

"I hate seeing through his eyes. It's like I'm not myself. It's like I'm actually in his head. I don't like it at all."

"Is… how you say… necessary. I understand, Boy. Is shitty feeling to be stuck in some other body's head. Now shush. You must learn."

At this point I knew the drill. I bowed down so he could place his hands on my head.

"If any consolation, inside your head is much nicer than his."

"Thanks."

Lord Machado's memories.

A giant pyramid, deep in the jungle. The midnight moon fat and heavy over us. The climb to the top of the huge, ancient thing, covered in strange, faded carvings, leaving us sweat-soaked and exhausted beneath our armor. Far removed from the conquered city, nearly two weeks deep into the trackless wilderness, and this lone edifice was the only thing to be seen.

This was the Place of Power.

The sacrifice was prepared.

Tonight was the night. Tonight the ceremony would be comp-

The vision suddenly ended. I was sitting on the steps of the church. The Old Man jerked his hands back in surprise. His eyes widened behind his glasses.

"What happened? Why did the memory stop?" I felt as if I had been on the verge of learning something. I did not know what, but something important about stopping the Cursed One.

"Boy. You must go. Great danger comes!" He grabbed his cane, holding it in his frail hands like it was a weapon. The reaction seemed purely instinctual.

"What?" I jumped to my feet, but the imaginary world of the battle-damaged village was still as unnaturally quiet as ever. "What comes?"

"Go!" he shouted.

I woke with a start and flung the sheets aside. It was dark inside the little guest room, but I knew right where I had left my weapons. I reached down and grabbed Abomination, my finger flipped the selector down to semi auto, and I waited. The room was quiet except for my breathing and the pounding of blood in my head. I listened. The house itself was eerily silent.

"Owen."

I pointed the shotgun at the voice but froze before my finger moved to the trigger. Julie's form was silhouetted in the faint light coming from the window. I gasped and moved the muzzle aside.

"Julie? I almost shot you." I was surprised. I had not sensed her until she had spoken. She glided across the room toward me. In the dark, I could barely make out that she was wearing nothing but a small nightgown that stirred slightly in the breeze.

"What are you doing here?" I asked. It was a stupid question.

"Shh." She climbed onto the bed. She brushed the shotgun aside as she crawled over my legs, hiking up the flimsy nightgown as she went. Julie's lips sought mine, found them. She pushed me down, kissing me, running her face down my neck. Her hands pulled at my shirt, caressing the lines of scar tissue across my chest.

I responded. Clumsily I rubbed my hands over her body, feeling the silky gown slide about over her skin. I forgot about my dream, I forgot about the warning. Ever since I had met her I had wanted to be with her, but I had doubted that it would ever happen. I doubted, but apparently I had been wrong.

I was in love with Julie Shackleford, and she had come to me in the night. I did not care about anything other than that.

The breeze stung the sweat on my arms.

Breeze?

Why was my window open?

I froze. She did not stop moving against me. She licked my neck hungrily, excitedly. My throat was damp. I could not feel her breath.

She was not breathing.

Realization hit me like a ton of bricks. "NO!" I shouted as I twisted away.

Seemingly surprised at the interruption, she fought me, pushing herself down against my throat. I took my hands from her body and grabbed her by the hair. I tried to pull her head away from my neck. She was stronger than I was, impossibly strong. Using my weight and a whole lot of desperation, I rolled off of the bed and took her with me. We crashed to the floor.

Razor-white teeth flashed in the moonlight. She was still trying to bite me. I struggled, shouting for help, and she swatted me in the face. My cranium bounced off of the floorboards.

In the last minute, I had been asleep, surprised, confused, then horny, followed by terrified, but now I was just pissed off.

I hit her again and again. She jumped off of me with unnatural speed, landing on her feet. I kicked at her, but she caught my bare ankle, picked me up as if I was a child, and swung me violently into the wall. I impacted sideways, broke several boards and fell painfully to the floor.

She grabbed me by the back of my neck and jerked me to my feet. I grasped her much smaller hands and tried to pry them away; it was a futile effort. I might as well have been bending steel bars. The voice was definitely not Julie's.

"Quit fighting. You belong to me now."

The lights came on. She twisted me around so that I faced the door.

The real Julie Shackleford stood in the doorway, pistol in hand. I looked directly down the.45 caliber hole in the barrel as I heard the safety snick off. This Julie was dressed, armed, and she looked really mad.

"Stinking vamps. You heard him. No means no." She braced herself against the doorjamb, looking for a clear shot. The clamp-like grip around my neck moved me into position as a human shield. I felt another hand grab onto my shoulder as the vampire peered around me. The pain was incredible, and the threat was unspoken. If Julie shot, then the undead would snap my neck.

The grip on my neck intensified, cutting off some of the blood flow to my brain. The vampire spoke. The voice sounded almost like Julie with a more pronounced accent, but somehow dusty with age, as if not used to speaking often.

"Hi, honey… I'm home."

Julie's jaw dropped open in surprise. She blinked several times, and shook her head. It looked like she was about to pass out from shock. The muzzle of her 1911 dipped slightly as her shooting stance fell apart.

"Mom?"

Not good, I thought to myself.

"Julie. You're all grown up. Look at you."

"Mom?" Julie refocused, the gun moved back into position. "But, but you're dead."

The vampire moved me slightly as she conversed with her daughter. "I'm not dead, honey. I'm right here. Everything is going to be just fine."

Holly appeared in the doorway, she raised her rifle and pointed it at my head as well. Now that made me real nervous. Though she was training hard and getting better, she was still a pretty lousy shot. If I had to choose between the emotionally stunned sharpshooter or the Newbie, I knew which one I wanted to take the shot. I managed to grunt out one request.

"Hol… let… Julie… shoot… ugh." The vampire shook me like a rag doll.

"Shut it, blood bag," the creature hissed. "I'm having a conversation here."

"Let him go, bitch," Holly commanded. She tucked her face down tight against the stock and peered through the sights. "Or I'll blow your brains out."

"You can't be here. You haven't been invited," Julie said. She sounded rather confused.

"This is my home," she replied. "I don't need an invitation."

"Mom. Please. This can't be happening. You disappeared. We thought you were dead."

"Come on, honey. You had to have suspected this. You knew what I was working on when I left. You never found my body." I could hear the gentle smile creep into the creature's voice, trying to once again be the loving parent. "I'm just here for your daddy," the vampire said soothingly.

"Julie, you have one fucked up family," Holly stated.

"Ack… Ugh…" I agreed.

I heard rapid speaking in the hallway, a desperate call for help. Trip stepped quickly into the room behind Holly. He still had his cell phone in one hand. He moved off to the side as he raised his subgun. Now I had three weapons pointed at my head, and the triangulation of fire was giving the vampire less room to hide. She backed up, dragging my heavy bulk along easily. We were backed into a corner.

"Mom. How could you become… become one of them?" Julie asked plaintively.

"I didn't have much choice, dear. But once you get used to it, it is wonderful. I can do things that you can't even imagine. I can feel things that would stop your heart if you experienced them. I have eternal youth and beauty. Come with me… We can take your daddy. The change will be good for him. It will fix his mind. We can be a family again."

"Never," Julie said with determination. Her brown eyes narrowed as she concentrated on her front sight.

"Suit yourself, dear. But it beats being a rotting piece of meat… like your boyfriend here is going to be if you don't back the hell off of me." She picked me up off of the ground. I cringed as my vertebrae popped. All pretenses of motherly love vanished. "I didn't want to kill you, honey, but if you push me, then I don't have a choice. I'm taking your daddy back no matter what."

"You got three guns on you. Kind of stupid to be making demands," Holly said. The vampire hissed at her. "I hate vampires, sister, give me a reason."

"I'm a Master now. I'm a queen in my world. You can't even begin to understand what I can do. This is your last chance."

"You're too young to be a Master," Julie stated calmly. She stayed framed in the doorway. The other two slowly began to spread out even further. Holly looked angry. Trip looked scared but determined. Fingers moved onto triggers. Somebody was going to shoot at any second. I could feel it. I tried to make myself as small a target as possible. That is very difficult if you happen to look like me.

"Too young? Am I now? Poor kid. Just like your dad. Nose always in a book, thinking that you understand what's really going on. I was a Hunter once myself. I know what you know. And let me tell you, you're wrong. It isn't about time, honey, it's about the blood. The power is in the blood that makes you, and in the blood that you take. I was made by the strongest of them all, and I've taken so much blood and so many lives that you can't even begin to understand. I have swam in rivers of it. I've torn the life out of ten thousand beating hearts, and you will be next. Now give me your FATHER!" She shouted so loudly that dust shook from the ceiling and all of the humans in the room flinched.

Gretchen appeared in the hallway, short and cloaked in her burkha, armed only with what looked like a stick. She pointed at me and said a single word in a rumble almost as deep as her husbands'. "Pocket."

I reached down, cringing against the pressure on my neck, trying hard to focus and maintain consciousness, my hand touched my pants pocket. There was something inside. I reached in. My fingers felt the lumpy texture of poorly whittled wood. The Old Man's handmade toy.

It could not be there, but it was.

Without thinking, I pulled the impossible little carving out, and stuck it firmly against the hard fingers pressing into my neck. The toy disintegrated in a flash. The undead thing that used to be Susan Shackleford screamed when it touched her, an unbearable howl of burning agony. I was dropped to the ground as her hand burst into blue flames. I hit the floor and rolled away as the other three Hunters reacted and started pulling triggers.

It was the first time that I had seen more than a darkened silhouette of my midnight visitor. She really did look like Julie, but possibly even more hauntingly beautiful, ethereal, even stunning. Pale skin, dark hair, eyes that you could drown in, but then the resemblance stopped. For vampires were unnatural creatures, and right now this one was distracted by a burning hand, long fangs revealed in a frozen scream. A split-second snapshot of confusion and pain, and then the bullets hit.

Impact after impact tore into the creature, spraying black fluids across the room. Holes appeared in the wall behind as bullets passed through tissues and shattered bones. I scrambled for my shotgun as the uninhibited blasts assaulted and damaged my hearing. I grabbed Abomination, swung it around, and still sitting on the floor, fired a nine-round magazine of buckshot into the creature. One hundred and eight silver pellets struck her body in less than a second and a half, and at that limited range, most of them were still impacting as a solid penetrating mass.

The room was filled with drifting smoke from burning flesh and gunpowder. Brass tinkled, steel and plastic thumped on the floor as the four of us simultaneously dropped our spent magazines. I fumbled toward my armor and ammo pouches. Susan Shackleford was pressed solidly into the riddled corner, torn asunder, leaking black fluids, and broken by the carnage that we had unleashed. The flame on her hand gradually died down as she studied it through her shattered visage, seemingly in fascination. The creature stood upright. Her flesh had been pulverized and stripped from her bones.

She laughed at us. A long hard laugh, as if we had provided some serious entertainment. "Hunters are even more pathetic than I remember. I'm a Master now. Don't you understand what that means?" Almost instantly her flesh was whole and white. I blinked, trying to understand how exactly that worked according to the laws of physics. She smiled widely, fangs gleaming. "You can't kill me."

"But we can try," Julie answered as she dropped the slide on a fresh magazine. She snapped the pistol up and shot her mother right between the eyes. The creature's smiling face rocked back briefly. I locked in a fresh magazine of buckshot, but before I could fire, the vampire moved in a blur of speed, crossing the room in a split second, almost too fast to track. Holly was knocked easily aside. Julie's hands were jerked over her head as the vampire grabbed her.

"I offered you immortality, honey. That was not a choice. I'm going to give it to you whether you want it or not," the vampire said in her sweet Southern belle voice. I snapped my shotgun up, but stopped, fearful of striking Julie. Trip's UMP was reloaded, and he had a clean angle. He lifted the gun to fire, but it was torn out of his surprised hands. The vampire had moved so quickly that I had not even seen it strike. "You can either come back as a dimwitted slave, or you can partake of my blood and taste of my power."

Julie struggled to release herself. "Never!" she shouted.

A small black flash charged in from the hallway. Gretchen screamed some sort of battle cry. She shook a narrow stick above her head, complete with feathers, leather braids, and what looked like a shrunken head. The vampire hissed, let go of Julie, and retreated back into the room. Gretchen pursued, still shaking her totem and shouting in her strange gravel-voiced language. The vampire fell back, cringing and recoiling, until it struck the wall.

"Holy symbol!" Holly shouted as she aimed her Vepr and pulled the trigger. The roar of the.308 was tremendous in the enclosed space. If I lived through this I was probably going to be deaf. The bullet tore into the vampire's side. The rest of us followed suit, firing over and around Gretchen, who continued to wave the stick and hold the vampire back. I emptied my second magazine in a heartbeat, and grabbed another one. My hands were a blur as I reloaded. Our lives depended on putting some hurt into the evil thing, and I moved faster than I ever had before. Abomination barked again and again as I put solid silver slugs into the monster.

Susan Shackleford disappeared. More holes were torn into the already damaged wall before we realized and stopped shooting. One moment she had been there, the next she was gone. The shredded nightgown fell to the floor and lay in a puddle of black ooze. A thick gray mist spiraled slowly out of the open window.

"Did she just turn into fog?" Trip asked.

"I didn't know they could really do that," Holly said.

"We didn't think they could," Julie answered. "Hey, that was my nightie."

"What?" I shouted. I was the only poor fool who had not been wearing their electronic earplugs.

"Reload. She's going to go for my dad."

That I understood. I did not have time to put on my whole suit of armor, so I threw the chest webbing on and buckled the pistol belt over that. At least I was going to have lots of ammo and a big honking knife. Gretchen pulled a leather pouch from under her burkha, dipped her gloved finger in and pulled out a blob of purple goo. She stuck it into my ears. It was cold and disgusting. After seeing what she had done with the road rash, however, I wasn't going to protest.

"I called Earl. Help is on the way." Trip kicked his broken UMP. "We're gonna need bigger guns."

"My room's on the way. Let's go." Julie led the way into the hall, gun outstretched. "Where's Grant?" she shouted back over her shoulder.

"Haven't seen him," Holly answered.

"His turn to be on guard. She probably killed him already. Bitch. Damn it!" Julie raged. "Come on." I had thought that I had seen her angry before, but I had been wrong. "Trip, grab some hardware out of my room. Hurry."

"What should I get?"

"Use your imagination! Now go!" She sprinted down the hall. I was right behind her. I was barefoot. The hardwood was cold under my soles. I pushed past Julie as we approached the door to her father's room. There was no time for subtlety. I lowered one shoulder and with a roar I smashed into the heavy portal. It flew open as the frame broke under the impact.

Something was waiting for us, standing on the bed over the still form of Ray Shackleford.

Julie's mother had changed into something horrible, something out of a bad nightmare. Her false cloak of humanity had been shed and now we could look upon the true face of a Master vampire. Her body had twisted and elongated, gray skin stretched tight over twitching muscles as she swiveled her long neck toward us, her eyes were solid red, and her mouth opened to reveal incisors as long as fingers and sharper than knives. Her beautiful features had contorted back, ears lengthened and swept up, I could see how the vampire legends had come to include bats.

She had Ray by the wrist, she tugged and the handcuff chain snapped. She snarled at us as we entered. "You don't learn, do you?" Her voice had changed, becoming deeper and more animalistic. I raised my shotgun and fired. The slug struck her in the chest and exploded out the other side. I fired again as she hopped off of the bed, dragging Ray with her. The vampire grabbed the heavy wrought-iron frame and effortlessly hurled it toward us, several hundred pounds of furniture turned into a missile. The bed struck and I was hurled backwards into the hall. I crashed into Julie, and we both sprawled to the floor.

I opened my eyes. Julie was lying inches away, profile crushed painfully against the floor. "We have to shoot my dad," she cried as she tried to rise. "Don't let her take him."

"Got it," Holly stated as she stepped over us. The bed was lying sideways, blocking the doorway. She raised her Vepr over the obstacle and fired wildly into the room, emptying the twenty-round magazine in an instant. I surged to my feet and pushed the bed out of the way, Abomination held in one hand, ready to shoot as soon as I had a target.

There was nothing but a hole in the floor. Boards had been pulverized into sawdust, and the creature had dropped through, taking Ray with her.

"Aw hell," I said. If Ray fell into the hands of the Cursed One, the world was pretty much screwed. I could see no movement down the dark hole.

"Don't let her take him. Do whatever you have to do," Julie ordered. She stepped to the edge of the ragged hole, knelt down, and without hesitation began to climb. Tactically it was a stupid move to crawl blindly after a super powerful undead, but we did not have any choice other than pursuit. She looked up at me before she dropped into the opening. I could not tell if her features were betraying fear or sadness. She disappeared into the dark hole.

"Clear!" she shouted.

I followed. My torso barely fit through the jagged opening, I leveraged myself down as best as possible, dangled from my fingertips, and then bent my knees and dropped the last four feet. I landed with a thud. Julie flipped the lights on. We were in the guest bedroom that had served as Gretchen's hospital. We were alone.

"Split up. Find them," she shouted up through the hole. "You three take the stairs."

"But if we split up, we're easy targets."

"Doesn't matter, we just need to stay alive long enough to kill Dad." She sounded desperate. "I'll head for the kitchen, you take the family room. Hurry."

"All right." I wanted to tell her to be careful. I wanted to tell her to stay alive. I wanted to tell her to be reasonable, and let me stay with her. But there was just no time. I fled the room, turning the lights on as I went. The mansion was huge, and the impossibly fast creature could be anywhere, or she could have already have fled.

No. She was going to stay and finish her work tonight. She had said that she was going to take Julie, and give her the gift of twisted immortality. Somehow I knew that Susan was still here in her ancestral home. She was here. I could feel it, and she had the one person who could help the Cursed One. I had to kill Ray before he could talk.

The doors to the family room crashed open when I kicked them with my bare foot. I swept in fast, shotgun at the ready. I activated the flashlight. I had no idea where the light switch was in the large room. Dozens of Shackleford faces stared down at me from their portraits. I stabbed the beam quickly into each corner, across furniture and construction in progress, and remembering my lessons from the Antoine-Henri, I shined the light on the ceiling as well. Nothing.

I ran for the next set of doors. The ballroom. I did not really know what I was going to do if I stumbled across the enemy. She had moved so quickly that I could scarcely believe my own eyes. Hopefully I would have time to blow Ray's brains out before Susan tore my head off. I really wished that I had Gretchen and her faith right about then. I knew that I did not have time to gain religion in the next few seconds, but it sure would have been nice.

The doors opened. I stepped quickly into the ancient ballroom. I heard a noise, something wet and slurping. I shined the Surefire light across the walls. The old-fashioned mirrors reflected the brilliant beam, over and over, refracting seemingly without end from all of the reflective surfaces. Even the chandelier was briefly lit. My reflection stared back at me from twenty mirrors, but there was another reflection as well. Ray Shackleford was in the center of the room, legs sprawled on the floor, head tilted back and mouth lifelessly open, torso slowly rocking, unsupported at an impossible angle as if he were held up with wires. I turned to face the center of the dance floor.

He was not unsupported at all. Vampires just didn't cast reflections. His wife held him, cradled in her arms. She was in human form again, squatting, with her naked back toward me. She was feeding from Ray's neck. She stopped drinking when the beam struck her. Susan lifted her dripping face and kissed her husband tenderly on the forehead, leaving a crimson lip imprint, before letting him drop limply to the ground. She looked at me and smiled. Her eyes reflected the light like a cat. She licked the blood from her lips.

"We have some unfinished business, you and I." She wiped her forearm across her face, and smeared blood down her bare chest. She strode wantonly toward me. I was terrified. I snapped Abomination to my shoulder, aimed at Ray's brain cage, and squeezed the trigger. It might have been murder, but the fate of the world was at stake.

Nothing happened.

I could feel the texture of the metal beneath the joint of my finger, but it wouldn't respond. I concentrated, but I could not force myself to pull the trigger. My hand would not respond to my brain. I could feel her presence, boring into me, her iron will testing itself against mine. She walked right into the gun, putting the muzzle directly between her breasts and over her heart. I could not fire. My body was frozen. I could not even move.

"You are a strong one," she told me, "but your human will is no match for mine." She dragged one fingernail under my eye, opening the skin and spilling blood down my cheek. A black presence pushed against my conscious mind, probing it violently, relentlessly. "Tell me, how did you hurt me? How did you burn me? Nothing can inflict pain upon a Master, but that did."

I tried to speak through rigidly clenched jaws. I fought a battle inside my skull, a fiercer fight than anything I had ever experienced before, a struggle for the very control of my body. The black weight pressed down hard, and unfortunately for me, this was an unfamiliar battleground.

"Tell me your secret, Hunter. Tell me and I will give you a gift. I can see it in your mind, the very thing you desire most." She smiled seductively. "Let go of your secrets, join me, and I will give you my daughter. She can be yours forever."

The blackness encroached into my vision, I could feel the tendrils of her power crawling deep into my mind, and I was powerless to stop it. I did not know how to defeat something with no physical body. Pain began to emanate from my skull, rippling down my paralyzed spine, and searing every nerve in agony. I fought on, I did not know how, but I knew that I fought.

"I just have to say, Hunter, you have the strongest will of any mortal I have ever encountered. You'll make a good servant for Lord Machado." I watched in horror as her razor fangs extended. I knew what was going to come next. She would rip me open and drain my blood. Either she would let me just die to rise again as a near mindless undead, or she would open her own veins and force me to partake of her blood, and I would become a horrible beast in her image. I despaired, but I fought on.

Boy. Let me help.

I heard the comforting voice of the Old Man. Suddenly I had hope. Something else joined my internal struggle, another presence took up the fight, the blackness paused, and was then overwhelmed and pushed aside. I gasped in relief as my muscles unlocked.

Susan stopped, her teeth hovering centimeters from my throat. "How-"

Abomination cut her off as a solid ounce of silver exploded through her black heart. She stumbled in surprise. I felt the Old Man's presence leave my body to continue his assault against her mind.

"You want my secrets?"BOOM. BOOM.I shot her twice through the face. "You really want to know?" BOOM. BOOM.I shot her in the throat and chin. "There is no secret…" BOOM.A slug pierced through her brain, rocking her back. "I just hate monsters!" CLICK.I released the silver bayonet. It locked into place with a snap. "So go to hell…" I slammed the broad blade through her torso and released the shotgun as I reached for my knife. "And die…" THWACK. The ganga ram's blade embedded halfway through her throat, lodging against her hardened spine. Black fluids and fresh red blood geysered forth. "You evil bitch!" I wrenched the big blade violently free.

She grabbed my shotgun and pulled the blade out. Abomination was still slung to my body. She swung it around and I was dragged along. I was launched hard across the dance floor. I crashed and skidded, coming to a stop next to Ray Shackleford. The big, red lip prints on his forehead would have looked silly if our situation had not been so deadly serious.

Susan twisted her head around as her wounds closed. I had not even slowed her down. She changed right before my eyes, lengthening, thickening, twisting into the gray killing machine that we had seen upstairs. Her brown eyes, so like Julie's, filled with blood and turned into red pools of hate. I could feel the Old Man's presence in the room with us, but after his initial surprise, he had nothing to offer against this creature.

I got to my knees as I pulled my STI and placed the.45 against Ray's temple. He looked up at me weakly, and nodded. The vampire paused, pulsing and seething in its killing rage.

"Stop or I'll waste him. Even you aren't that fast." I had about two and a half pounds of pressure on the three-pound trigger. I felt her will intrude against my own, but this time I was ready. I knew what was coming. I cannot explain the mechanism of it, but her attack was thwarted. This time my will was mine and mine alone.

"Mom!" Julie called from the entrance. An ominous hum emanated from the lit flamethrower in her hands. "Your invitation has been revoked. Get the hell out of my house!" She depressed the trigger.

The vampire was engulfed in a spray of pressurized napalm. The stream of jellified gasoline exploded in a wall of intense heat, setting the floor afire, and shattering several of the antique mirrors under the assault. I grabbed Ray by the collar and pulled him away as burning fuel splashed in every direction.

Trip appeared on the balcony above. "Run, Z!" he shouted as he leveled the grenade launcher at the inferno. He at least waited long enough for me to be out of the blast radius before launching a high explosive round into the floor at the monster's feet. The concussion was horrendous. The priceless chandelier fell from its mounting and crashed to earth, flying into millions of separate shards.

Susan's burning body was flung against the far wall, shattering the glass doors to the veranda. Julie kept up a constant spray of napalm. Even the mightiest queen of the undead could not regenerate under that onslaught. The vampire smashed through the glass. I picked up Abomination and fired a grenade after her. My aim was off, but it was close enough to shred the burning flesh from her bones.

I heard Trip shouting. "Backblast! Backblast!" I looked up in time to see Holly steadying her RPG over her shoulder. Firing that with her back against a wall would probably be immediately fatal.

"Oh yeah," she said, "damn it!" She threw the rocket-propelled grenade aside and retrieved her rifle. And she had been so looking forward to blasting something with it.

Julie followed her mother, keeping up the onslaught of fire and burning fuel. The ballroom was burning now, and it was spreading up the walls and toward the ceiling. The house was going up. She finally stopped, and the flamethrower's stream died off to a small flame.

Her mother was on the burning veranda, a charred and curled skeleton, flesh turned to ash. The creature crumbled as it tried to move, revealing blackened and twisted bones. She slowly stood, ash falling away, new flesh and tissues already pulsing underneath.

"Won't you just die already?" Julie screamed. She was crying. My heart went out to her. Her home was burning down, and her undead mother was intent on drinking her blood. It was a really crappy evening by any standard.

Then something strange happened. One second the room was burning, fire licking around us, scalding us with intense heat, and the next second it just stopped. The flames were extinguished, leaving only smoking embers. The temperature dropped at least seventy degrees almost instantly, as if we had just stepped into a walk-in freezer. My breath came out in a cloud of ice vapor. The remaining mirrors fogged up and cracked.

"What the hell is happening?" Holly asked quietly, her voice trembling.

I did not know. But I took the opportunity to reload a fresh grenade into Abomination's underslung launcher. My fingers fumbled clumsily, suddenly nerve-deadened by the cold. I shivered, and my teeth began to clatter together. A horrible feeling of dread traveled down my spine.

"Who's that?" Trip asked. His tone betrayed his fear.

I looked up in time to see a second figure appear on the veranda. This one was a gaunt man, with greasily slicked back hair, and a narrow hatchet face. He was wearing a full-length trench coat. His bearing was ramrod straight, his movements were unnaturally sharp and crisp. The tall man paused beside the scorched vampire. He stood at parade rest. It was the lead vampire from my dream. Lord Machado's lieutenant. Susan's blackened form bowed before him. He placed one gloved hand on her head.

"You have failed me, Susan. I am most displeased." His voice was deep and had a precise German or Austrian accent.

I could still feel the Old Man's presence in the ballroom. The ghost surged with anger toward the new intruder.

"Forgive me, Jaeger," she rasped. Her vocal cords had been burned seconds before, and she could barely speak. "I didn't kill them. But I have learned of the Place. My husband told me."

"Excellent." He patted Susan on the head, scattering ashes from her skull. Then he turned his attention on us. "You are in luck that I do not have an invitation. Be warned. Do not trifle in our affairs. Or it will be your death." The Master vampire looked upwards as he heard something. The perimeter alarm sounded. Helicopter blades beat in the distance. Company was on the way.

He glared at me in particular. "If it isn't Byreika and his oafish friend." I could feel the hate emanating from the Old Man toward the vampire. It was almost a physical thing. "You are out of your league, Juden. I am surprised at your resourcefulness. None of the others that have been used have been able to come back to this world. You ever surprise me, but in the end, you are nothing."

We will see, Nazi bastard son of bitch.

The hatchet-faced vampire smiled, showing us his razor teeth. "You amuse me, Old Man. Your kind always has… Come, Susan. We have much work to do." He faded into the darkness and was gone. The temperature slowly began to climb to normal levels.

Susan Shackleford was whole once again. She brushed back her hair, knocking the remaining ashes free. The beautiful vampire was savagely angry.

"You will be mine again, honey. Just you wait."

"Don't call me honey. You're not really my mom."

"Whatever you have to tell yourself to keep the nightmares away, honey. I love you." She slowly backed into the shadows, fading away until only her eyes were visible. She blinked and they too were gone into the night.

Chapter 20

I knelt at Ray Shackleford's side. He had been savagely bitten and torn open. I pressed my hands against his neck to try to staunch the flow of blood, but it just kept pouring out.

"I'm sorry," he rasped.

"Just relax. You're going to be okay," I lied. His pulse was very weak. "Gretchen!" I screamed.

"Susan. She took it from my mind. I couldn't stop her." He groaned in pain.

"Dad." Julie fell to her knees, the super-hot flamethrower clattering to the floor next to her.

"Oh, honey, I'm so sorry." He coughed, and blood bubbled from his lips. "I never wanted to hurt anyone. I just loved her so much. I couldn't let her go."

"It's okay, Dad," she gasped, grabbing his hands. Tears cut a path down her soot-blackened face.

"I didn't know… vampire… that's why the spell failed." He was growing weaker. "Forgive me."

"I forgive you," she cried. "I forgive you. Just hang on."

Gretchen appeared. She pushed me aside and pressed a cloth against Ray's savaged throat. She wiped away enough blood to get a good look and then she immediately went to work with a small kit of primitive tools. I backed away, so as not to disturb the healer in her work. Trip and Holly were standing back, watching the veranda, weapons at the ready. The helicopters were louder now.

"We have company," Holly said. "Feds."

"Listen… the Place… Natchy Bottom."

"Mississippi?" I asked. Milo had warned us briefly about it during our trip to visit the Elves.

"Yes… Deep down… Hidden… Talk to the Wendigo." He closed his eyes. Gretchen looked up at Julie and shook her head slowly. "Julie… I love you." His voice was barely audible. "I'm so sorry."

"I love you too, Dad," she whispered. Only minutes before, she had been prepared to kill him, but now at the moment of his incipient death, she had to confront her feelings for her father. My heart ached for her.

The helicopters were overhead. Searchlights stabbed down onto the property as federal agents fast-roped onto the grounds. A loudspeaker boomed as directions were shouted at us. "Drop your weapons. Do not move." An Apache hovered low, beating the air, causing the broken remains of the veranda doors to rock closed. The 30mm chain gun was aimed directly at us.

We had no choice but to comply. I removed Abomination and pushed it away, then unbuckled the pistol belt and set it aside as well. Trip and Holly did as they were told. Julie was still holding her father's hand.

"Julie. Toss your gun." I did not know if the Feds would just blast the whole house, but I didn't want to provoke them. "Hey. Julie. Listen to me." She snapped out of it and angrily slid her pistol away. Black-clad troopers were approaching rapidly, guns leveled at us, flashlights pointing into our eyes.

"What do we do?" Trip asked. Julie did not answer. She just looked sullenly down at her dying father. I did not know what was going through her mind.

"Do what they say."

I had a feeling it was about to get ugly.

The Feds hit the house hard and fast. Windows shattered as flash-bang grenades were thrown in. Doors were smashed open with handheld battering rams or blown off their hinges with shotgun breaching rounds. The Monster Control agents swarmed over us, shouting orders, and forcing us to the ground. I fared a bit better than the last time I had encountered them. The boot placed on my neck was not nearly as heavy as the last one.

"We have an injured man," shouted one of the troopers. "It's Shackleford. Send the medic."

Gretchen howled in pain as one of the Feds booted her aside.

"Hey! She's a doctor!" Trip shouted. He pushed against the Feds that were trying to handcuff him. The first blow landed directly behind his ear, sending him sprawling back to his knees. He was clubbed to the ground in a flurry of rifle butts, and then stomped and kicked into submission. Assholes.

A trooper who must have been a medic dealt with Ray. From my position on the ground I could make eye contact with Julie. She was sobbing, looking at her father's still form, years of pent-up emotion all let free in a horrible moment of violence.

"Building secured," stated one of the troopers. "Opening up the perimeter." The noise level died off as the helicopters banked hard and away, covering more area, searching for vampires. I knew that they weren't going to find anything.

"We have another Hunter in the house. He's probably dead or injured," Julie shouted at the Feds, thinking of the missing Grant.

"Lieutenant, medevac Shackleford out of here. Get this one up," ordered a familiar voice. I was pulled up so that I could look into the stern face of Special Agent Myers. His personal attack dog, Agent Franks, stood behind him. Once again Myers was dressed in his cheap suit. The other agents were geared up in all of their body armor. "Pitt, what's going on here?"

"Vampires. They came for Ray," I answered truthfully, as Ray's limp form was carried out on a stretcher to a waiting Blackhawk. He did not look good, and if he was not already dead, I knew that he soon would be. If his injuries didn't kill him, standard operating procedure that I was well familiar with meant the Feds would take care of him.

"Where is the Place? Did you learn about the Place?" Myers shouted at me.

I did not know if I should mention it. I had been mistreated at their hands enough times that I had real doubts about how much I could trust them at all. On the other hand, somebody had to stop the Cursed One, and they were probably better equipped to do it than us.

"Talk," he ordered. "This is serious business."

"I know, Myers. Damn it. It's in…"

"Owen. Don't tell them!" Julie shouted. One of the troopers kicked her in the ribs. She cried out in pain.

"Stop that!" I shouted. Franks brushed past Myers and slugged me in the side of the face. It was brutally hard. My head snapped back on my neck, and I was only kept from falling by the Feds that held my arms.

"Tell us where, Mr. Pitt!" Myers shouted. "We're at condition red. None of you have any civil rights at this moment, so we will beat it out of you if necessary. The clock is ticking." Franks punched me in the stomach. My abdominal muscles seized up in agony and I wheezed for air. The man could certainly throw a punch. I swear that he had to beat on sides of beef like Rocky or something to develop a punch like that. I did not know why Julie did not want me to tell them about Natchy Bottom, but if she said not to, I trusted her. I knew this was going to hurt.

"Kiss off, Myers. I ain't telling you shit," I gasped. WHAM. That hit compressed my stomach back into my spine. He hit me hard enough to make my dog bleed. And I don't even own a dog.

"Myers. You were MHI once. You can't do this," Julie pleaded.

"Why not, Julie?" he retorted. "Don't you understand what is at stake here?"

"The fate of the world," she answered. "Yes, we know."

"So just tell us where to go and we'll be waiting for him." He sounded very reasonable. I couldn't breathe.

"Sanctuary," she answered.

Myers scowled. Franks' dark features drew up in confusion, obviously an emotion he didn't like so he hit me again just to be on the safe side. I wheezed in agony.

Franks pulled back and cracked his knuckles one-handed. At least I had succeeded in making his hands sore. "What's sanctuary?"

"They cut deals with some monsters," Myers answered. "Sometimes they find something they decide isn't really bad, even though it's on the PUFF list. They let it go. They even hide them from us. Grant them sanctuary if you will. Like this thing here." He gestured rudely toward Gretchen. "Her kind are fair game."

"If you hurt her, I swear I'll kill you," I told Myers.

Franks raised an eyebrow, ready to make good on the organ donor sticker on my driver's license. Myers put one small hand on the other agent's thick arm. Franks looked disappointed.

"No need, Mr. Pitt. I'm no monster. She isn't any threat." He sounded sincere. "I'm just a man trying to serve my country. Right now you people are standing in my way of doing that." He addressed Julie. "Listen, I'll give you my word. Whatever you have living at the Place, we'll leave it alone. We're just after Lord Machado."

Julie appeared to think about it. She winced under the weight of the Feds pushing down on her and put aside the pain of her new knowledge about her mother's fate and her father's apparent death. Finally she spoke, and when she did she was utterly calm. "I'll tell you everything I know. But you have to leave MHI alone. Get out of the compound. Let us do our jobs. You can have the Place, you can be ready for the Cursed One. Give me your word that you'll leave the sanctuary alone and you're welcome to the rest." I could see why she was the one that took care of the company's contract negotiations.

"No," Myers stated flatly. "Your gang of misfits is done as far as I'm concerned. Aiding and abetting a fugitive. Nope. MHI is finished. Once again, Monster Hunting is a government responsibility, just like it should be."

"You bastard," she spat. "We didn't turn my dad over because we thought you had a leak to the Cursed One."

"That's absurd," he replied. Which was true enough. The bad guys did not need information from us or the Feds to know about Ray, not when his own wife was working for the other team. Fat lot of good that knowledge did us now. "Look. I don't like this at all. I'm not a violent person, but we don't have time for your games." He nodded toward his subordinate with obvious distaste. "Agent Franks. Do what you have to do. We need to know where the Place is."

"Yes, sir." The dark man looked at me emotionlessly. It was going to be a long night. Just then Myers' radio crackled.

"Delta team. This is Bravo. There's a car approaching, high rate of speed. Should we fire on it? Over."

"Negative. Intercept at the gate," he replied. "Expecting company?" he asked Julie.

"No. Just the vampire that ransacked my home and killed my dad," she stated flatly.

The radio again: "Sir, it appears to be some of the Hunters from the MHI compound."

"Who?" Myers asked.

"Earl Harbinger and a few others. He's out of the vehicle and approaching the entrance. Moving to intercept."

"Arrest them," Myers responded. "Be careful; Harbinger is extremely dangerous."

Julie made eye contact with me. She mouthed the words, "Get Ready." I nodded slightly. I did not know what was coming, but I was not going to let her down. I was not cuffed, but I had a Fed on each arm. So far I had not resisted, and they were merely holding me up to be Franks' punching bag. There was another trooper by Julie, one by Gretchen, and as far as I could tell, three on Trip and Holly. All of them were well trained, heavily armed, and looking for an excuse to shoot us.

Everyone was startled as automatic gunfire erupted from the front of the house. Franks looked in that direction as his hand moved toward his holstered Glock. He did not see my bare foot sailing towards his crotch. I kicked him hard. Too bad he was wearing armor. I brought my foot down, and used my leverage and brute strength to swing the two Feds holding my arms into each other. They collided in an armored mass. I smashed an elbow into the first one's jaw, and broke the second Fed's nose with a left jab. They both went down.

The room exploded into confusion. The agent kneeling on Julie screamed in pain and fell over. Franks recovered with a small grimace and charged me. The other Feds went for their guns. We were about to get killed.

The door exploded inward and two agents were hurled through, landing and rolling painfully across the floor. Harbinger came in fast, charging directly into the agents standing over Trip and Holly. He went swiftly into the path of their rising muzzles. He attacked, dodged between the guns, struck the agents down with his bare hands, batted aside a rifle, grasped the final Fed by his web gear and slung him back into the wall with a horrible crash.

I had never seen a man move that quickly.

Distracted by Harbinger's superhuman display, I did not see Franks' movement. He forced his palm into my face, pushing me off balance. He bladed off, protecting his right side, going for his pistol. I struggled forward, trying to reach his gun hand. Time slowed down. The pistol came up and out of the holster.

"Stop! Stop!" screamed Myers.

Franks froze. His Glock held in a tight, low, retention position. Finger on the trigger. Indexed directly at my sternum. His eyes were locked on mine. If I moved at all, I was dead.

Julie was still lying on the floor, but had rolled far enough to reach the flamethrower. It was humming, pointed at Myers' legs. The agent that she had knocked over had pressed his pistol into her back. Harbinger stood over the stunned forms of the other downed Feds. The Fed by Gretchen was holding his leg where her totem stick had stabbed him. Unfortunately he had raised his G36 and it was pointed at Gretchen's head. I could not see most of the Feds' expressions behind their black balaclavas, but I imagined that they were about as tense as I was. If one person twitched wrong, a whole bunch of us were going to get shot or immolated. It was the most screwed-up Mexican stand-off I had ever seen.

Another Fed entered the room, hands held above his head, Sam Haven pushing close behind with the muzzle of his pistol screwed into the back of the agent's neck just under the helmet.

"Nobody move or I'll waste this punk!" Sam shouted. He paused as he studied the complicated situation, before shrugging and spitting some tobacco juices. "Oh… never mind. Y'all are ahead of me." He sounded rather disappointed.

"Don't spit on the floor, you ape!" Julie ordered. It may have been scorched and blasted with shrapnel, but it was still her house.

Harbinger's hands were empty of weapons, but after the display of physical prowess I had just seen, nobody was in a hurry to mess with him. Five Feds lay on the ground moaning or whimpering. He shouted down the hallway he had entered from, "Milo! How you doing?"

"Hurry up. There's like a hundred Feds coming this way. And they looked pissed!"

"Myers. Turn on your damn phone," Harbinger commanded. "Do it now."

The Fed complied. He slowly reached into the pocket of his suit, pulled out the phone and turned it on. Immediately we all heard that annoying "Take Me Out to the Ball Game."

"I hate that ring," I said, as I looked over Franks' Glock.

"Me too," he agreed, not letting the gun waver at all.

"I shut it off when we landed. It's kind of distracting on a raid," Myers said defensively as he pushed the button to answer it. "This is Agent Myers."

"Yes, I will hold for…" The senior agent sounded surprised. "Oh… Hello, sir… Sorry… I apologize… Yes, sir… Yes, sir… But this is outside the regular chain of command…" We heard half of the conversation. Myers seemed remarkably collected considering Julie had the flamethrower pointed at him. The agent pointing the rifle at Gretchen looked a little shaky. I hoped this did not take long. "But, sir… But… But… We can… But… Yes, sir… I understand…" We waited for the conversation to end. "Understood… Good-bye, sir."

He refolded the phone and dropped it back into this pocket.

"Stand down," he shouted. "Everybody stand down." The guns in the ballroom slowly began to lower. Sam pulled his Sig 220 out of the back of the agent's neck. Julie set the flamethrower down.

"Tell the guys outside that too!" Milo blurted from down the hall. "There's a big black helicopter looking at me!"

Myers spoke into the radio. "Stand down. All units stand down. That is an order."

Tense moments passed as everyone complied. Franks was the last to do so. With the Glock still pointing at my heart he told me simply "I'll get to kill you one of these days." He slowly lowered the weapon and reholstered.

"Take a number," I replied.

"Well, Harbinger. I'm surprised," Myers said. He looked flustered and angry. He still reminded me of a professor, only now he looked like one who had just found out his tenure had been denied. "That's outside the chain of command, but you know I'm not going to go against a cabinet-level appointee."

"You heard him," Harbinger stated shortly. "We have a truce. Y'all can get the hell out of here."

"For now. As soon as I get orders from the Director, he's going to be overridden, and then I'm going to arrest every single one of you for assaulting federal agents and aiding and abetting a fugitive."

"I figure that will probably take more than forty-eight hours. So by then either the world is going to be destroyed or this is all a moot point. Until then you have your orders," Harbinger said coldly. "You can take the Place. We clean up the local infestations. We tell you what we know. You leave us alone."

The senior agent appeared to mull that over. The idea seemed to leave a bad taste in his mouth. "Fine. For now…" Myers said coldly. "We'll see about that in the long term, Earl."

I moved to help Julie stand. She looked shaky. Her wound had reopened, but there was not too much blood. She pushed me away. "I'm okay," she said.

"Bull," I stated. "Let me help you." I took her by the arm.

"All units. We're clear. Hold your fire. Prepare to pull out," Myers ordered into the radio. The Feds attended to their injured. The five men that Harbinger had attacked were all stirring, though some looked to be nursing broken bones. "You better not have seriously hurt any of my men," he told Harbinger. "I don't care how important some people think you are, Earl, I'll personally make sure your special status is revoked, and I'll see to it you rot in prison forever."

"I didn't hurt them too bad," Harbinger said simply. He spread his hands innocently, though he could not mask his predatory confidence. Somehow he had moved, weaponless, through a crowd of ready and armed men, and beaten down any of them that stood in his way. "They shouldn't have tried to stop me."

I remembered how Harbinger had saved me from Darné. At the time I had assumed that it had just been some sort of pro Monster Hunting trick, but after watching him dispatch the Feds with relative ease, I knew that something else was going on. "Just what the hell is he?" I said softly into Julie's ear. Somehow Harbinger heard me from across the room. He winked.

"It's a long story," she replied brusquely. "Earl, Grant's missing. Dad's dead."

"No," Harbinger said. His face fell. "Aw hell."

"My men have not reported any other Hunters on the premises," Myers said. "They probably took your man."

"Milo?" Harbinger shouted.

"I'm not getting Grant's signal on GPS. It's either broke or disabled… He was wearing his armor, right?"

"Yes. He was on guard duty," she shouted back down the hall.

"Sorry, Julie. I've got nothing."

"He will be avenged," Sam told her. The big cowboy was solemn. "I promise."

"If it's any consolation, I'm sorry. But we're wasting time," Myers stated. "I need a Place, and I need it now. You have my word. Whatever thing you have hiding out there, we won't bother it."

"Deal," Harbinger said. "Julie?"

"Somewhere inside Natchy Bottom, Mississippi," she told the room after an instant of hesitation. She would have to grieve later. "You know about it?"

"Yes. We know it," the senior agent replied. "Bad place. Where though? That's a lot of swamp to cover."

"Dad said that it was hidden. You need to talk to the Wendigo to find out where."

"Impossible," Myers said. "Those are just Indian fairy tales."

"Nope," Harbinger said. "The Bottoms belong to him. We have an understanding."

"Fine. We'll handle it. You and your thugs can clean up the local undead outbreaks," Myers snapped. "We'll set up on the Place and blow the Cursed One to kingdom come."

"One problem," Julie said. "The Wendigo isn't going to talk to you. You're going to be wandering around the woods for weeks. You know what the Bottoms are like. The rules don't apply there."

"Let me guess," Myers said. He exhaled slowly, apparently trying to control his anger. "This thing will talk to you people though."

"He'll only talk to me," Harbinger said, before adding with a note of barely concealed disgust, "looks like we're going with you."

Myers cursed. The man had a remarkable gift for creative profanity.

"Looks like we get to work together," I told Franks cheerfully.

The silent brute just nodded as he patted his Glock, doubtlessly contemplating the moment he would finally get to use it on me.

"This is it," I said. "We know where the Cursed One is going to be. We finish this tomorrow-one way or the other."

"About time," Sam said. "Grant was one of us. That slimy bastard is gonna pay." The big cowboy kicked at the gravel.

"Yeah," Milo added with what was for him, unusual somberness. He wore his night vision monocular and scanned back and forth across the property.

The three of us were standing in the darkened driveway of the Shackleford ancestral home near the vehicles. We were waiting for the others. Gretchen was applying some first aid to Trip after the little bit of "stick time" he had received. Holly was grabbing some gear. Harbinger and Julie were standing about a hundred yards away, talking quietly amongst themselves. Apparently Julie had a few things that she needed to speak with him about privately. The Feds had left, quite a bit worse for wear after the beating that some of them had received from Harbinger.

"What do you think they did with him?" I asked. I did not like the way that we were talking about our companion as if he were already dead, but I could not realistically see much hope for the alternative.

"The Old Man's journal said that they needed to sacrifice a Hunter to use their device," Milo said. "I'm guessing that poor Grant is going to get himself sacrificed."

"Sucky way to die," Sam agreed.

"Do they need to keep him alive until the full moon? There is a possibility he could be alive still."

"Maybe," Milo said. "We can hope." He sounded doubtful. Most of the seasoned Hunters' missions involved search and destroy, rather than rescue.

Having eavesdropped on Grant's contrition earlier made him somehow more human now, and made his being taken that much more difficult to stomach. But a tiny, ugly part of me hated him even more now, because I could see that Julie was taking his disappearance hard, and I found myself somehow jealous of someone who was probably already dead. We sat in silence for a few moments. In the distance I could see that Julie and Harbinger were arguing. She looked rather angry and animated as the senior Hunter tried to explain something.

"What do you think they're fighting about?" I asked.

"I'm guessing she wants to know if Earl knew that Susan was a vampire," Milo answered as he looked upward through the night vision. "I can never get over how many stars you can see through one of these things."

"Did he know?"

"Beats me," Sam answered. "We had our suspicions, of course. We had never found her body, and they had been hunting a vampire. I mean, I guess we all kind of thought about it, but none of us wanted to think it was a real possibility. You gotta understand, we loved Susan. The idea of having any of us turned to the other side… well, that… That just ain't no good."

"I've got a chainsaw with my name on it in my workshop," Milo told us happily. "If I'm ever killed by undead, I want you guys to chop me up with it. It's a good chainsaw."

"I reckon it is, Milo. I would be honored to chop your head off," Sam said. I worked with some interesting folks.

The lights in the house were extinguished. Trip, Holly and Gretchen joined us a moment later. Since we had blown holes in the ballroom, and the Feds had kicked in all of the doors and many of the windows, we could not even lock up anything other than the vault. I just hoped that nobody came up here and looted the place while we were gone.

Trip was limping and did not look very good. "Now I know how Rodney King felt," he said through swollen gums. One eye was matted shut, and Gretchen had smeared him with some sort of foul-smelling cream.

"Yeah, but you ain't gonna get no million dollar settlement to blow on hookers and crack like he did," Sam said wryly. "We're just waiting for the boss and we can get out of here. We got us some monsters to kill."

Julie and Harbinger continued fighting for another minute, before finally coming to some sort of terms. He hugged her as she sobbed on his shoulder.

"She's had a tough night," Milo said simply. Estranged father dead. Boyfriend missing. Mother revealed to be undead. Milo Anderson was a master of understatement. None of us disagreed.

"I've got a question," Trip asked. "How come Grant didn't sound the alarm? I woke up when I heard Owen shouting."

"Probably snuck up on him," I lied. In truth I had a pretty good idea of what had happened. Probably something similar to what Susan had tried on me, only Grant had probably not realized what was going on until it was too late.

Holly knew the truth. "Vampires can be seductive. You saw what she was wearing. She probably floated in as mist, put on some of Julie's things, and bit Grant when he thought he was going to get lucky. Then she tried the same thing on Z here…" She pointed at me. "So did you score with your friend's dead mom?"

"It sounds gross when you put it that way." It didn't do me much good to lie at that point. "I got to second base before I realized she wasn't breathing," I stammered with no small amount of embarrassment. "Hey, I thought she was Julie." And then I felt really stupid for saying that. Luckily she was still standing far enough away to have not heard.

"Way to go, Big Guy." Sam punched me in the shoulder. "If you had been a little dumber, you could have put a whole new meaning to 'staking' vampires."

"That's horrible," Trip said as he pressed a bag of ice against the side of his head.

"Whatever. She would've bit you next," Holly said.

"Probably not. I would have sounded the alarm," he answered.

"Sure you would have… church boy."

"No really, I've never…" He caught himself. "Uh… never mind."

"No way." Holly sounded stunned. "Are you saying… No way. You're what? Twenty-seven?"

Trip looked very uncomfortable.

"Saving it for marriage?" Milo interjected, looking alien with his massive beard poking out from under his night vision. "Good for you, Trip." At least he had the Mormon contingent's approval.

"I didn't know you Rastafarians did that kind of thing," Sam said. "I figured you all partied."

"Baptist," Trip said quickly.

"Oh, I just figured with the funky hair and whatnot. You should shave that thing then. You would look good." Sam spat into the gravel. I made a mental note never to listen to the fashion advice of a man with a mullet and a puffy trucker hat.

"Yeah, you would look like Shaft," I added helpfully. "Not the old one, the new one."

"Chicks dig that on a black dude. Be sure to get yourself laid then, kid," Sam told him with great confidence.

"But… Wait… It's a personal choice, damn it," Trip sputtered.

"Okay guys. Here's the plan." Thankfully Harbinger interrupted. He lit a cigarette as he approached. It was back to business. Julie looked sad, but resolute and determined. The director just looked angry. "Back to base. Gear up. We will form an assault element. We're going to meet the Feds in Natchy Bottom in the morning. Milo, load up everything you can think of. Julie, Sam, you two contact every other team in the country. Have them drop whatever they're working on and get back here now. Our team hits the Bottoms, everybody else hits the local outbreaks." He pointed at me. "Newbie squad, take a car. Take Gretchen back to her people."

I had almost forgotten about the small woman. She was so quiet, and cloaked in her shapeless robes she nearly disappeared in the shadows. Harbinger bowed toward her in a sign of sincere respect, and said something in her language. It sounded like gurgles and clicks to me. She replied, gravelly and deep.

"Thank you, Gretchen. You bring great honor to your clan," he said and turned back to me. "Get her home. She isn't a warrior, but she performed like one tonight. MHI will always be in her clan's debt. There is a little road just north of the compound. Follow it. She'll show you the way. Don't get jumpy if they get weird on you, remember they're our friends."

The group dispersed to their tasks. I grabbed Julie by the arm. "Wait." I didn't know what to say, but I needed to say something.

She turned around, great dark circles under her eyes. "What? What is it, Owen?"

"I'm sorry about your parents, and I'm sorry about Grant…"

She raised her hand and cut me off. "No. No you're not."

"No, I…" I stammered.

"You wanted Grant dead, didn't you?" she snapped. "Well, looks like you got your wish." She spun and walked away.

The compound was not that far away from the Shackleford home. We took Grant's car. The interior was immaculate and the XM stations were all preprogrammed for classical music. At least I could hear again; Gretchen's purple goo had worked well. Trip and Holly were in the back seat, and Gretchen rode up front. I passed the lane leading to the compound, and slowed down as Gretchen pointed out a tiny path cloaked in trees and moss. The narrow road was so overgrown with vegetation that the headlights only cut a small swath before us.

"This is it?" I asked her. She nodded, a movement barely perceptible beneath her robes. It was just after 3:00 a.m. but she was still wearing her mirrored shades. The Mercedes bumped through the foliage, and the undercarriage scraped as we dipped into the deep ruts. I rolled down the window. The chirping of insects was rhythmic and strong. A trio of cow skulls had been tied around a tree with leather cord. I knew that it was a sign that we were on Skippy's property. "I love what you've done with the place."

Gretchen clicked approvingly. We continued down the lane, deeper and deeper into the dark woods. Though the compound was only a few miles away, we seemed totally isolated from the world. The trees here were tall and the forest primeval. Glowing eyes reflected back at us as raccoons scurried away.

"This is kind of creepy," Trip said.

"It isn't so bad," I answered. Then something huge sprinted across the road through the headlights. It was massive and covered in black fur, and it was gone in an instant. "What the hell was that?" I shouted as I stomped on the brakes. The Mercedes halted on the packed dirt, leaving us in a cloud of red dust. I rolled up the window without thinking.

"Deer?" asked Holly.

"That wasn't no damn deer," I said. It had looked more like a scurvy bear crossed with a lion. Maybe I had not been getting enough sleep. Gretchen said something unintelligible and made shooing motions for me to continue onward. Apparently, whatever the animal had been, it was of no serious concern to her.

Flickering lights appeared in the distance. Campfires. Big ones. We slowly rolled forward until we saw the structures of a tiny community. Perhaps village would be the best word. The little houses were clustered tightly together into a rough semicircle. Surprisingly enough the homes looked nice and well cared for, despite the strange decorations of skins, bones, hides, antlers and feathers that decorated all of them. The fires emanated from large basins that had been set at the compass points around the village. There was a central area between the homes, with what appeared to be some sort of shrine or religious stage.

A black-clad figure appeared in the headlights and waved as we approached. I recognized Skippy from his gait. Other figures appeared from the homes, all of them shorter than average, and several squat ones that must have been children. Many of them were hurriedly pulling on their masks or hoods. I parked the car next to some older-model pickup trucks. Before I had even shut the engine off Gretchen had bailed out of the vehicle and went running toward her husband. He picked her up and swung her around as they joyfully embraced. Several of the others joined them in a massive group hug.

I stepped out of the car. The air smelled of delicious roasting meat. The sounds that I first thought were angry noises, actually were laughter coming from the reunited tribe. Some of the children began to play a game, running and chasing after each other. Skippy left the group when he saw me. Many of them studied us curiously from behind their tinted goggles or mirrored shades.

"Noble One… Thank… you… bringing… Grtxschnns… Gret chen… Home." He bowed down until his balaclava touched the ground. I bowed back.

"Thank you, Skippy. Gretchen saved our lives tonight. She healed our many wounds. And her faith and bravery turned away a Master vampire. If it wasn't for her, many Hunters would have died."

"She… brings honor… to clan?" He rose and spoke loudly in his language. There were some gasps of astonishment as they stepped away from Gretchen, and then bowed to her. I could not see her features, but by her mannerisms, I was guessing that she was slightly embarrassed by the display. After a few seconds they rose and went back to their merry greetings. Finally Gretchen was able to break away and approach us, the rest of the tribe following closely behind her, until finally the whole group was assembled quietly in front of the three of us.

Gretchen pointed at Trip, and said something to the others. There was much oohing and ahhing, and then they bowed toward him. Skippy's people were big on the bowing.

"Uh… what's going on?" he asked, running one hand through his dreads nervously.

"Dark Hunter… you fought… gub mint… agents… to protect Gretchen?" When he said government, the tribe booed.

"I guess," he answered.

"Agents beat you…" He pointed at Trip's face. "For protect her?"

"Yes. Really, it was no big deal… I-"

Skippy cut him off. He turned back to the tribe and loudly proclaimed:"Smrslal! Smrslal Aiee!"then to us, "Dark skin Hunter, Brother of War Chief, and… Girl. Bring great honor. My clan… you one with… us. With honor… No need for hide."

Skippy reached up and removed his glasses, revealing bright yellow eyes sunk deep into grayish-green tissue. He carefully folded and put the shades in a pocket, and began to remove his balaclava. One by one, the others did so as well. Even the little children removed their hoods, some needing the help of their mothers.

We had gained the trust and respect of the tribe. Honoring us as equals, they revealed their true selves. Their skin was bumpy, mottled, mostly green, some gray and some brown. They were either bald, or some with wispy white hair. Their lower jaws protruded, and tusk-like teeth stuck past their lips. Most of their noses were squat, though some were raised up more like snouts. The eyes were yellow or pale blue, set under thick bone ridges and short foreheads. Their ears were long and pointy, and most if not all of them had facial piercings of bone or gold.

"Holy shit," Holly mumbled.

"Orcs," Trip said in awe. "I don't believe it."

Skippy's pointed teeth ground together above his wide jaw, in what I believed was a smile. His yellow eyes twinkled as he clapped his hands above his head."Urks! Yes. Clan of Gnrlwz, fist of North. Spear of… Doom. Now clan of… M H I. Harb Anger… give us home. Give us work. Now are family. Join us… eat meat… dance." He pointed at one of the others, who immediately turned and ran for what I thought was a shrine. The younger orc knelt and fiddled with something on the backside of the edifice, and massive hidden speakers started blaring. Metal. The orcs were playing heavy metal.

"JBL. Kick Ass… Sound system," Skippy grunted at us. "Come! Party!" The entire tribe began to either bang their heads, dance wildly, or jump up and down with their hands extended above their heads, pointer and pinky fingers extended in the devil horns of classic rock. The children formed a mosh pit and began to slam each other about. The mothers looked on approvingly.

"Skippy, I wish that we could," I shouted back over the sounds of Static X. "But we have a mission. We need to fly to Natchy Bottom in the morning." The orcs danced. Giant wolves howled in the nearby forest. Of course, that explained the thing that had crossed the headlights. You can't have orcs without wargs.

Skippy nodded. "Skip understand. I be there… Together… crush foes. Must take… care of clan… Then come. To fly into battle." He bowed again. I returned the honor. "Thank you… Noble One."

"Great honor, Skippy. Thank you." We parted. I returned to the car.

Holly climbed into the front seat. Trip stood transfixed at the rear door, staring at the clan in wonder, as some of the giant wolves wandered out of the treeline and into the light of the fires. Little green children ran to crawl up on the horse-sized animals, playing with what to them were basically family pets. Pets with jaws that could snap a deer in half, but pets nonetheless. Skippy returned to Gretchen and they knocked their tusks together in what was probably the orcish equivalent of a kiss. I started the car. Finally Trip broke away from the sights and got in.

We drove down the lane. The raucous music died away as the distance increased. We did not speak. Trip stared out the window in silence. The Mercedes bumped and scraped as we bottomed out. It would take a pretty dedicated explorer to bother with this back road and now I could see that that was by design. It was a strange and secret community, but obviously one built upon strong family bonds of love. My spirits were lifted from my brief visit to Skippy's people.

Finally Holly spoke. "Well, Trip. Satisfied now?"

"Huh?"

"Remember when we met the elves?"

He did not answer. But none of us could forget his disappointment on that day.

"Remember when you said that since there was so much secret evil, there had to be some sort of secret good to balance it out?"

"Yeah," he answered slowly. I could not see him in the darkened car, but from his voice I could tell he was smiling. "I guess there is… I guess there really is."

"See, I told you so," Holly said in smug satisfaction.

We assembled in the meeting room. Harbinger was preparing to brief us. We would be taking off within the next half hour. It was 4:00 a.m. Every available Hunter was assembled, including the untested Newbies, all of Harbinger's team, Dorcas and the senior Shackleford. The conference room was crowded. Every other member of MHI in the country was currently en route.

I sat down at the conference table next to Milo. He grinned when he saw me. The man was always in a good mood.

"So did you get to meet Skippy's people?"

"Orcs," I answered. "That was pretty cool."

"Yeah, they're good folks. Homo-Ogrillion. We were hired to go into Uzbekistan and eradicate them. Turned out that they weren't so evil after all, so we brought them all home. I'm glad we did."

Harbinger called the briefing to order. It took a few moments for the group to quiet down. Apparently word of the attack and all the gory details had spread quickly. Julie was sitting next to her grandfather, and his burned face was drawn into a tight grimace of pain and anger. I could not imagine how the man felt. Even if you had distanced yourself from a child who committed horrible crimes, he was still your child. And now he had lost that son.

Harbinger cut right to the chase. "Everybody knows about what's going on, and you've already heard about what happened earlier tonight. One former Hunter is dead. One current Hunter is missing. Turns out that one of our own is a Master vampire in the service of the Cursed One. We have a deal with the Feds. One team is going to go with them to Natchy Bottom to deal with the main bad guys. Every available Hunter is on the way. As they arrive, the rest of us will break into groups and handle the following undead outbreaks." He pointed at the map of the Southeast that had been taped to the wall. It was dotted with red tacks.

"Auburn, Gadsden, and Forestdale, Alabama; Columbus, Georgia; Pulaski, Tennessee; and Pensacola, Florida. Those are all confirmed vampires or wights. Boone's team just cleared out some new creations in Atlanta. I felt bad calling them up since some of his men are still hurting from the freighter, but they rose to the occasion. And we have unconfirmed reports in Florence, Tupelo, Dothan, Fayetteville, Russellville and Demopolis, though those might just be regular missing persons, but I wouldn't bet on it."

He paused long enough to take a drag off his cigarette. I had not seen him smoke indoors around the other Hunters before, but I was guessing that he was under more stress than normal.

"As other teams arrive they will be diverted to those trouble spots. This is our turf, so local law enforcement knows us and is helping out. National Guard, same thing. Mostly they can be used as perimeter security, but if you think you can trust them, press them into service as well. We don't have time to screw around, so if you find where the vamps are sleeping, just blow it straight to hell. We don't have time to stake and chop and all that. If they're in a mine, collapse it. If they're in a building, burn it down. If you need to, borrow a tank from the National Guard. If they're inside something that you can't justify blowing up, then do what you have to do."

"How many threats are we talking about?" Sam asked.

"Potentially hundreds." There was some murmuring and swearing at that, from everybody except the untested Newbies who had not yet seen a real undead. "We always thought that vampires were limited in the number of new creations they could make. That was always our theory on how come they didn't just bite everybody and overrun us. Looks like we were wrong, at least when it comes to Masters. We're looking at a few different threats here, so let me break it down. Somehow the CO is able to bring people back as wights. Then we have two kinds of vamps, the regular new creations, where somebody is just killed and comes back as one, and apparently a stronger, smarter type, made by biting the victim, and then giving them some of the Master vampire's own blood and power."

"Like Darné?" I asked. The former French Hunter had been amazingly fast and seemed to be in full control of his faculties, unlike the more animalistic creatures that had been the other vampires.

"Most likely. So we're talking about some serious bad asses. Plus we know that he can animate gargoyles as well, though there have not been any sightings of those since the ones that Pitt and Julie killed. Nobody knows how long it takes to create one of those, or even how many he brought over to start with."

"What do we have?" Milo asked.

"Counting us and the Newbies, we have about twelve teams of Hunters. Six people in the hospital or on medical leave. Seventy total personnel available," Julie answered.

"Seventy-one," her grandfather said from the head of the table. He pulled a well-oiled S&W 1917 from under his sweater and put it on the table with a clunk. "I ain't sitting this one out."

"But, Grandpa…" Julie said.

"Whoever thought I would get to live this long anyway, kid? This old man is looking for a fight. These bastards killed my boy, even if he was a crazy son of a bitch himself. Monsters don't get to kill a Shackleford and get away with it. It sets bad precedent."

"Seventy-two," Dorcas added, her grandmotherly looks not quite matching the steel in her voice. "Try to stop me, you'll be tasting my plastic foot. I can still run a machine gun with the best of them."

"We help," said a gravelly voice from the doorway. I had not heard Skippy approach. "Ten warriors… Five who heal… Ride to battle… Slay many foes."

"Skippy, you don't have to. Your people are so few in number as it is," Harbinger said.

"Harb Anger deny us… honor… of battle?" Skippy asked. His voice sounded extra distorted through his flight helmet's face shield.

"No. Of course not." The Director bowed his head. "My clan thanks you for your brave warriors."

"Eighty-seven total staff then," Julie said. "Against probably double that number of powerful undead and who knows what, spread from one corner of the South to the other."

Eighty-eight, said the voice of the Old Man in my head. I wished he would stop doing that. It freaked me out. I may have a weird job, but that doesn't mean that I liked hearing voices in my head.

"Who's going to Natchy Bottom?" Sam asked.

"Feds are going to be the ones doing all of the fighting, and we can let them be the muscle. So we'll just take the Hind. Skippy flies of course, and one can ride co-pilot. Then we can fit eight plus gear."

"I'm going," Julie said.

"No. You're injured, and I need you here to coordinate the arriving teams."

"Bullshit," she snapped. "This is personal."

"I know, and that's why you ain't going," Harbinger stated.

"Wrong. I'm on that helicopter or you can have my resignation right now, and I'll drive up there myself." Julie stood up from the table. "Don't push me, Earl. She's going to be there, and she isn't going to rest until she gets me too."

Harbinger slowly nodded, his cigarette dangling from his lips. "Fine," he said. "Julie, Sam, Milo, so my whole team. Pitt, he knows the bad guys better than anybody. That leaves four volunteers. Keep in mind, this is probably going to be real dangerous. Most likely all seven of the Masters plus whatever powers that the Cursed One himself has."

"I'm going," Trip said, surprising no one.

"You feel up to it?"

"What, this?" He pointed at his battered face. "Just a scratch."

"I'm in," Holly stated. "Any excuse to kill something."

"Me too," Albert Lee offered.

"Nope. Your ribs are still jacked up. No offense, Lee, but if anything, you're going to run support for a local team. Sorry. Two more." He pointed at Dorcas. "Oh hell no. Don't even think about it. If Julie's going, I definitely need you here to coordinate. Once that's done then you can go get yourself killed all you want."

The older woman slowly lowered her hand.

Lee raised his hand again. "Mr. Harbinger, sir. I can do it. I feel a lot better. I won't slow us down, plus I've been doing nothing but studying the archives for the last week. Maybe something I learned can help." You had to admire our demolitionist librarian. It took some guts to stand up to Harbinger's overwhelming presence. "It wasn't even a real break, just a minor fracture, and Gretchen gave me some stuff, said that I'm good to go."

Harbinger scowled and thought about it for a moment. "Fine, Lee. You're on."

"I could go," stated Julie's grandfather. She gasped. "But I'm afraid I would just slow you down." There were a few relieved sighs at that. I could not imagine that Harbinger could order around the president of the company.

"Brother…" Skippy said. "Exszrsd, Edward, Ed… great warrior. Much honor clan to go…"

"The dude with the swords?" Milo asked. He mimicked swinging swords around his head.

"Yes. Ed with swords. He go too."

"Hell yeah," Sam said. "He's one bad dude."

"That's a full chopper," Harbinger said. He glanced down at his watch. "Hurley's team is due to hit Pensacola shortly. Boone's en route to Gadsden. Scramble the others as needed. Boss, Dorcas, shuffle the Newbies off to any teams that are shorthanded. It's all yours. This is it. For you Newbies who have not fought yet. Don't worry, you've been trained. You know what to do. Stick with your team leads, and do what they tell you. You'll be fine. Now let's go to work. The world is counting on us."

"Good luck, everyone," Julie said. "You know what to do."

"I taught you guys how to fight. Don't screw up," Sam ordered the Newbies. Everyone stood up from the table and began to disperse. He shouted one last set of instructions for his parting charges. "And if the going gets tough, and you get the urge to quit, just remember that we get paid real good for this shit!"

"We finish this today," Harbinger stated to no one in particular.

I hoped so. It was Thursday morning. Friday night was the full moon and the end of the world. I wondered if I would still be alive to see it.

I waited for Julie in the hallway, standing nervously in front of the wall of memorial plaques. A bright new one had been set on the wall for Jerry Roberts. I was wearing my full armor, festooned with weapons and ammunition. I was ready for war.

But I was not ready for what I needed to do next.

Julie strode down the hall, also fully armed for battle. Her M14 was slung over one shoulder, and a row of sharpened stakes was lashed to her webbing. Her long hair had been tied up beneath her hockey helmet, and she had replaced her glasses with shatterproof prescription goggles. She was angry and determined, and no vampires or cursed conquistadors were going to stand in her way.

She saw me, and attempted to smile. She failed miserably.

"Hey, Owen. Look, I'm sorry you had to see me freak out back there at the house, and I'm sorry I snapped at you. That was just a lot of emotion for me, you know. Grant's probably dead, or worse. Dad is dead, and I didn't think that I would mind that, but I do, and Mom…" She shrugged.

"I know," I said simply. "If Grant's alive, we'll find him. And I'll help you deal with Susan."

She changed the subject. "How are your ribs? Franks beat the hell out of you."

"Fine," I lied. It hurt to move. Plus I had huge bruises on my neck from her mother. "How's your shoulder?"

"Fine," she lied. I grinned. That got her to smile.

"Look, Julie… I just want to say… you know… in case I don't make it…"

"I know," she answered sheepishly. "Don't talk like that."

I reached down and touched her hand. I very gradually took it into my own. "I… I…"

She squeezed back. "I know. I really do. But I can't deal with that right now. Too much other stuff going on. Besides, we're going to live through this. Right?"

I looked down. I was not so sure. The others had not felt the power of the Cursed One like I had. They did not really understand the evil that he contained. I had a bad feeling that we were not going to win.

She leaned in close and kissed me on the cheek. "Thanks," she said.

My heart skipped a beat. "Okay," I said. Not being a very eloquent man, that was the best that I could manage. She must have realized what she had done, but she did not move away. Instead she came a little closer. We stayed like that for a few seconds, neither of us knowing what to say.

"See that?" She nodded at the sign above the memorial wall. "Do you know Latin?"

"No." I had seen the plaque my first day here, but I had not understood what it meant.

"Sic transit gloria mundi."She explained, "When Caesar would address his people, in all his glory, in his splendor, with his armies, and his riches, there would always be a functionary standing by his side, whispering that saying in his ear. It's a reminder. It means: The glory of man is fleeting. Do you know why we have that carved here?"

"Because we can get killed anytime?" I answered. "It keeps us humble?"

"Pretty much."

"That's a hell of a philosophy."

"It really is. It means that all of our glory, all of the good we accomplish, we had better enjoy them now, because we are one heartbeat away from losing it. We live fast, and we usually die young, but it sure is glorious while it lasts. Monster Hunters don't have time to waste."

"What are you trying to say?"

"You're not real bright for a genius, are you?" Julie stood close to me, armor against armor. She turned her head slightly and closed her eyes. "Shut up and kiss me."

I did.

It was glorious.

I took her in my arms, weapons clanking into each other. Time ceased to exist. The whole universe consisted of just her and me. Life was good. The kiss seemed to last forever.

"Ahem." I was jolted away from her soft lips. "Time to go, kids," Harbinger stated as he walked past us. "Helicopter is prepped. Feds are already en route."

"Yes, sir!" I shouted, very embarrassed.

"Be right there, Earl," Julie said, looking flushed. She waited for him to disappear. "I need to sit down."

"I don't want to feel like I'm taking advantage of you with all of the stuff going on and, and your parents, and Grant, and…" I stammered. She kissed me again, quicker this time.

"This isn't about any of them. Don't talk about it… We had better get out of here."

"Sure." I didn't want to let go of her.

"Go, I've got to grab something. I'll be right there." We parted. She smiled. I grinned like an idiot. I walked away, looking back over my shoulder the whole time. She did the same. I finally had to quit when I walked painfully into the drinking fountain. I waved stupidly. She disappeared around the corner. I started to run. It turned into a sprint. I could not help myself.

I passed Harbinger through the double doors, ran the few hundred yards to the runway without slowing, vaulted through the open door of the Hind and took a seat. Milo and Sam were sitting across from me, already strapped in. I gave them a big thumbs-up.

"Let's kill us some monsters!" I shouted over the already turning rotors. The two seasoned Hunters just looked at each other and shrugged.

The distant sky in the east was beginning to turn orange. Dawn would be here soon. It was going to be a great day. I could tell.

Chapter 21

We lifted off from the compound and headed northwest at over a hundred and twenty miles an hour. Even at that speed, we had about two hours of flight time. I sat next to Julie. She had winked at me when she had strapped in, but did not say anything that the others could hear. Harbinger studied us stonily, but after a few minutes of uneventful flight, he used the opportunity to get some sleep. Trip and Holly stared out of opposite windows, apparently lost in thought. Milo and Sam argued about what Sam's new team logo should be, either a frog or a walrus. Either way it was going to have a cowboy hat. Lee read a book until he became violently airsick, then he too went to sleep. Skippy left the music off of the intercom, probably in deference to the early morning hour, not that the internal engine noises of the chopper weren't already deafeningly loud. His brother Ed took the co-pilot's seat. He was dressed like a ninja, except for the tinted Bolle goggles.

When nobody was looking, Julie reached over and took my hand. She held it for most of the flight.

I did not know if she felt the same way about me as I felt about her. Looking at it logically, she barely knew me, and in the last twenty-four hours her world had been turned upside down. Was this sudden affection for me the result of feelings that she already held, or were they instead caused by her need to have some sort of anchor?

Either way, I was fine. I could deal with being an anchor. I was certainly heavy enough. Screw logic. It had no place in relationships anyway. I just enjoyed holding her hand.

The rhythmic strumming of the helicopter made me tired. I could understand why, since I had only had a few hours of sleep that night. And it had been a stressful night to say the least-check that, it had been a stressful week. On Saturday I had been drowned, beaten and shot. Sunday I had been slapped around and had some teeth knocked out. On Monday I got to go to the dentist and, sadly, that had been the most relaxing time of the whole week. Tuesday had resulted in a van wreck and road rash, and I had gotten my ass kicked last night by, first, a vampire, and then used by Franks as a punching bag. Who knew what today would bring? Interestingly enough, the full moon was going to be Friday night. Exactly one week from when this all started. It had an interesting sort of symmetry to it, or it probably would if I lived to enjoy it.

A week ago I had been ready to quit. Scared that I was doing the wrong thing. Scared by the violence that I kept leashed up inside. But those things, that darkness, it was what had kept many of us alive over the last few days. My pursuit of a regular life was a lie. I could see that now.

My place was here. I was a Monster Hunter.

By the time we flew over Hayneville, I was asleep.

I saw the mysterious Tattooed Man. He was driving a car down the nearly empty freeway. The person sitting next to him had been the vehicle's previous owner, neck snapped like a twig when the Tattooed Man had decided he needed transportation. His bare foot was on the gas, and he kept it just under the speed limit to avoid attention.

Black eyes stared straight ahead, fixed in the direction of his target. He drummed his fingers absently on the wheel. He was close. Very close. The anticipation of regaining his charge was great, and the excitement of approaching battle was building in his ancient soul.

He knew I was watching him. He was close enough now for that. The tattoos on his face withered as he spoke, knowing all too well that I could hear him despite the barriers of space and time. His archaic form of speech was thick and accented.

"I care not about thy war. The artifact is mine to protect, and do so I shall."

Who are you? I thought.

"Look upon me and see thy doom, cursed man. Thou shalt die by my hand."

Why?

He paused, the unnatural ink swirling around his blunt features. He seemed surprised by my question.

"Thou knowest not?"

No.

"Thou knowest not of thy fate? Of thy place in this world?"

Nope.

He laughed at me. A booming hearty laugh. It was without real emotion, as any human feelings that had once inhabited this hardened creature had passed a long time ago. Rather, the laughter was an ingrained reflex at hearing something so seemingly preposterous.

"Surely thou hast some knowledge?"

No. I'm getting pretty sick of this myself.

"Then I shall be saddened to take the life of a warrior whose heart is without guile. Alas, it must be. For that I am sorry, but thou must surely die by my hand. I shall do my best to make it swift and glorious."

I don't want to fight you.

"Thou hast no choice," he stated flatly. " 'Tis my duty."

I had my fill of people and monsters threatening to kill me.

Bring it on, bitch.

His face cracked into a wide grin, the swirling markings formed a sympathetic jaw around his lips. "Ahh, there be the spirit. We shall wage us a fine battle."

He continued driving as my spirit lifted from the moving vehicle. The sun was rising on the freeway behind us. I recognized the city in the background.

Montgomery.

The dream world.

"Hello, Boy." The Old Man greeted me as I approached the destroyed church. "Hurry, hurry. Time is much short. Cut off last time." He looked agitated, limping toward me, using his cane as support in the light but slick snow.

"Mordechai, who the hell was that joker?" I asked as I stepped over some rubble and scattered bricks. Either I had not noticed before, or perhaps the Old Man had not put them there before, but there were thousands of shell casings scattered on the ground or pocked into the snow.

"Who?" he asked, perplexed.

"That big tattoo-faced guy. The Guardian of the artifact or whatever."

He hurried over, his face drawn into a look of concern. "You spoke to this man?"

"Yeah, just now. Didn't you see?"

"No." He shook his head, his Star of David bouncing wildly off of his thin chest. "He is here? Now?" The Old Man sounded very worried.

"I think so. I think he's in Montgomery."

"Is bad. Much much bad."

"He said he has to kill me."

"Afraid of this I was. Listen to me, Boy. You are brave and strong, but no match for him. If he comes, run."

"So let me get this straight, you've got no problem with me taking on the Cursed One and seven Master vampires, and gargoyles, and wights, and who knows what else, but you want me to turn and run if I see this tattoo-faced, funny-talking freak?"

"Yes." He shook his head happily. "Glad you understand, Boy. Now come, time is short, and still much you have to see. I will do what can, but not know if have time enough."

"Why is he so dangerous? How can he be any more dangerous than Lord Machado?"

The Old Man put his hands alongside my head. "Not him who is dangerous. I worry about you who is dangerous."

"Huh?"

He squeezed my head and looked me in the eyes. I think he was trying to convey the seriousness of his advice. "Never mind. See him. Run away. Not strong enough to face. Bad things happen. Now shush. Much memory to show before fight."

The dream world faded away.

Lord Machado's memory was sharp and refined for this night, etched deeply into his mind.

This pyramid was much larger than the others, but had been partially buried by earthquakes and mudslides in the distant past, and then mostly reclaimed by the jungle. The stones were crumbling with age, and the once-intricate carvings were weathered to the point that they were no longer clearly recognizable. Now the pictures looked more like squid and crab things going about their business, than the pictorial people that they must have been at one time. The remaining architecture seemed unfamiliar and somehow alien.

Many months had passed while the priestess had instructed me in her dark arts. I had learned much, and seen things not meant for human eyes. I had communed with dark forces, and my education had continued until finally I felt ready to unleash the power. The time had come for me to reclaim my birthright and fulfill the prophecy. I was ready. The priestess Koriniha was at my side. A small contingent of her selected priests led the way up the steps. A squadron of my most trusted and loyal soldiers remained to guard the base of the pyramid.

The priestess leaned in close and spoke softly into my ear. "Your men are scared, Lord Machado."

"They do not understand what we do. But they are loyal. They will do as they are told. They would follow me into the very pit itself if ordered, for I am their general. And they know their place."

"That is good. But not all of your soldiers are so loyal. There has been no word of your chief captain." She sounded mildly worried. "We cannot afford an interruption during the sacrifice. The Old Ones would be offended."

She was right to be concerned. A small group of men, led by one of my best captains, had disappeared, most likely deserted. The giant of a man, called Thrall, had hired onto the expedition as a mercenary. He was from some small country to the northeast, and had barely even spoken our language at the time of our embarkation, but he had proven himself to be a fierce warrior, whom the men would follow without hesitation. I had been reluctant to promote him, but he was far too capable to have been wasted as a mere musketeer.

Unfortunately, his primitive upbringing had made my own superstitious men seem like philosophers in comparison. He had been against my initial conscription of the native forces, and he had been adamantly opposed to staying in the city, rather than sacking and burning it to the ground. I had my suspicions that he had been in league with the now departed Friar de Sousa as well. The divinations of the priestess had confirmed his treachery and the fact that he had been a holy man amongst his forgotten people. Doubtless my consorting with dark forces had driven him away.

It would not matter, even if the captain had fled for the sea. By the time he would be able to send a message of my treachery back to agents of the crown, it would be too late. My powers would be granted tonight. "No need to worry, my love. The good captain is no threat to us." I had dispatched a force of soldiers and conscripts to chase the deserters down and execute them. "It is under control."

"Excellent, my lord, but should it prove necessary, I summoned some protectors for our ceremony tonight."

The top of the ancient structure was flat except for a single raised dais. The altar had a funnel protruding from its base, giving some clue to its dark history. Giant braziers of flaming coals had been placed on the corners, illuminating us with flickering light. The pagan priests went immediately to their respective stations. Large stone demons squatted around the altar. One of the carved statues turned its head and regarded us with blank stone eyes. Dust shook from it as unnaturally long arms flexed nonexistent muscles. It was a mighty beast.

"What manner of creature is that?" I hissed.

"They are here to protect you, Lord Machado. Once you unlock the power of the Old Ones, you will be able to create these animations as you see fit." The stone creature turned away, satisfied that I was its new master. I could only imagine the army that I could command with creatures constructed from the rocks of the earth itself.

A small group of the feather-robed men were already waiting before the altar. They stood aside and kneeled as we approached. One of the priests said something in his language to the priestess.

"The sacrifice is ready, lord," she told me. A young man was stretched upon the altar, his wrists and ankles bound with heavy cords. Rather than fearful, the man appeared defiant. He said something in their strange language. I could tell he was cursing me.

"He is a hunter of the Ewaipanoma of the jungle and the Ahuzoitl of the rivers, a protector of the innocent, and a great warrior. The Old Ones demand such a sacrifice."

"What do I need to do?" I ran my finger down the worn wood shaft of my ax. I would show this hunter of monsters what I thought of his curses.

"Are you ready, my Lord of the Ax? Are you prepared to be a vessel for the very power of the ancients?"

"I am ready to take my rightful place as ruler of this world."

She looked deep into my eyes. The world condensed down to just the two of us, shutting out the chanting priests, the cursing and spitting Hunter, and the screaming of the jungle. "You are he who has been prophesied. Warrior, son of a great warrior, your very name taken from the weapons that have shed the blood of your family's enemies. Sent by a king on an impossible quest… A leader, a visionary, an ally of darkness…" She stroked my cheek as I recalled the prophecy of the black obelisk. "And of monsters…" She gestured at the hulking demon figure standing guard over us. "Truly you are the one, five hundred years since the last, five hundred years until the next, the only one amongst a thousand generations of man with the key to unlock the power over time… There is but one more thing."

"What is that?"

"The Old Ones said you must have love." She pulled herself tight against my armor, like a parasite, or a barnacle upon the hull of a ship. She needed me more than I needed her now. "Tell me, my lord, is it so?"

"Of course," I answered truthfully. I loved her as much as a practical man such as myself could love anything. I had found in the dark priestess an equal in ambition, desire and lust for control. If the Old Ones required a weak emotion to unlock the secrets of ultimate power, I could think of worse choices than the wanton evil creature before me.

"If I were to die, would you return for me? Would you bring me back from the other side?" she implored. "You alone will have the power, but you will need my guidance to use it."

Of course, that was her key to staying in my graces. The Old Ones had not revealed their secrets to me like they had to her. They only saw fit to give me a glimpse into the darkness and a taste of their unimaginable dominations. I needed her guidance. "I give you my word, Koriniha. I shall not allow you to perish so long as I live. And with this"-I pulled the bag from my waist-"should you die, I shall bring you back."

The priestess laughed again; it was the shrill cry of a harpy. "Then let us begin the ceremony, my lord."

The priests and sorcerers formed a chain around the altar, leaving Koriniha, the bound Hunter, and myself in the center. I was directed to remove the artifact from its bag and place it upon the stones. A burst of cold traveled up my arm as my gauntlet closed around the small rectangular box. It did not reflect the moonlight, rather it seemed to absorb it hungrily, leaving a greater darkness than was possible. For the first time, markings could be seen on the black surface. They began to glow and gain in strength, withering tendrils, seemingly alive and searching.

I placed the box near the head of the trapped Hunter. He shouted and spat at me, but his words were drowned out by the increasing hum of the chanting priests. The coldness in my arm did not dissipate, but began to travel deeper into my core, chilling my blood, and forming crystals of ice vapor in my lungs.

The priestess studied the moon. "The time is upon us. I must call upon the Old Ones in their speech. When I am done, remove the heart of the sacrifice. Drink some of his blood and pour the rest upon the artifact."

I pulled my battle-ax from my back, released the leather cover from the ancient sharpened head, and cast it aside. The shaft was smooth and polished with use, strengthened with bands of iron and had been replaced countless times over generations. The blade itself was ancient, made of an unknown metal that cut like the finest steel, yet had somehow survived in the possession of my family since the time of Alexander. It had taken many lives, and the sacrifice tonight would be but another, though it had never been used in so dark a pagan ritual.

For me there would be no reconciliation. There would be no forgiveness. After tonight there was no looking back or turning away from the dark path I trod. My people, my country and my God would all forsake me for the acts I was about to commit.

So be it.

I twisted the deadly weapon in my gauntleted fists. "I am ready."

The priestess began to speak, her voice low and guttural, descending somehow into tones not produced by human beings, and in pitches never meant to be heard by mortal ears. Swirling black clouds drew over the pyramid, moving at speeds greater than the greatest storms of the seas. Lightning cracked down into the surrounding jungle. Thunder boomed and echoed off of the mountains, deafening in its fury. Raindrops the size of babies' fists pelted down upon us in an intense deluge. Within moments the pyramid was drenched, and torrents of water spilled down the causeways and stairs. The memory became disjointed and the foundations of the world cracked.

You not listen to this, the Old Man whispered.

Why?

Is for best. Not to have such things in head. Drive you mad.

The memory flashed by impossibly fast. The ceremony continued. The priests gave dark signs. The priestess continued her impossible litany.

Time returned to normal.

Better. Now worms not eat your brain when wake up.

"Now take his heart and feast upon his blood!" The priestess screamed over the roar of the wind and rain. The artifact was floating now, inches above the stone. It was absorbing all of the available light, seeming to surge and gorge itself with every continuous lightning strike. The etchings on the artifact had detached themselves and were swirling in the air, growing and spinning, crackling with black energy.

The Hunter met my eyes. He was beyond fear and prepared for his death. I brought the weapon down on the center of his chest, severing the muscles, and cracking the sternum. I stopped before it pierced his heart. I could use my ax with surgical precision. He screamed in agony. I twisted and levered the blade in, using the handle as a pry bar. I shattered the ribs, and pulled the ax free.

He was still alive as I reached into the cavity, pushed through the remaining flesh and welling fluids and grasped his beating heart with my gauntlet. It pulsed as I curled my fist around the organ and tugged. The Hunter screamed and spasmed as I tore the heart free.

"Drink." The priestess commanded.

No. I tore myself free of the vision.

You must watch, the Old Man insisted. You must learn.

Not that part. Hell no.

Good, Boy. Hope for you yet.

I tossed the still-warm heart aside. My mouth tasted coppery and my stomach roiled against the unfamiliar sensations. The fluids that I had poured into the artifact had seemingly disappeared, swallowed up and taken to another, darker place. The artifact was spinning now, the black lines of power twirling around like streamers, twisting with the physical presence of snakes.

"There is only one thing left, my lord," the priestess said, "and the power over time itself is yours."

"Tell me what I must do!" I raged into the storm. I was so close.

The booming of the thunder continued, but my battle-hardened senses picked up another sound-the explosions of gunpowder.

"You must take the final-" She stopped, glancing down in surprise. Koriniha reached one delicate hand between her breasts and probed with her fingers. Her hand came away from the hole as a trickle of blood ran down her rain-soaked robes.

I turned in time to see the armored figures appearing over the lip of the pyramid. Most of their matchlocks misfired as the fierce rain soaked their powder or extinguished their smoking cords, so they used them as clubs. Captain Thrall led the charge. His sword cleaved downward and tore one of the priests in half. Behind him were all of his men, and I was surprised to see many of the men that I had sent in pursuit of the deserters. Even my most loyal troops that I had left to guard the pyramid had turned against me.

The demons rose and lumbered into the fray, swatting aside the conquistadors with heavy stone limbs. The scene degenerated into a mob of confusion as rain fell and lightning flashed. The artifact still spun in its web of black tendrils.

"Koriniha!" I shouted as the priestess fell to her knees, vomiting blood from her open mouth. I knelt at her side, and caught her before she went facedown to the stone. I shook her. "What now? Tell me!"

"My love… Bring me back…" She foamed at the mouth, and died. Her eyes rolled sightlessly back into her head.

"No! No! Damn you! Damn you all!" I screamed as I dropped her soulless form into the rushing water. My plans were ruined. Without the priestess I did not know how to commune with the Old Ones. All of my treachery, throwing away my command, throwing away my generalship, all for naught. I howled in rage and hatred.

I had to reach the artifact.

Now the memory shifts, flailing forward in jerks and spurts.

"Stop him! Kill the general!" bellowed Captain Thrall. He was locked in battle against one of the fearsome demons. With his great strength he sent it tumbling backward over the pyramid's edge. "Kill him!" the brute screamed in a berserk rage.

Soldiers moved to block me. I killed one of Koriniha's priests that stumbled blindly into my path. I waded into the troops, ax humming through the giant water droplets. The troops fell back under the fury of my onslaught. My skin was like ice and my blade moved as quickly as the lightning. I could feel the power of the artifact. So close, so very close.

I crushed a soldier's skull and batted him aside. A sword tip streaked across my armor as I stepped clear and hammered the man to the earth. I wrenched out my ax blade, dripping with blood. Rage cascaded over me. How dare these men betray me after all that I had done for them? I swung my ax, killing or dismembering with each blow. I used the blade, spike and butt of my weapon to bring down my troops. Flailing limbs and blurred sword blades surrounded me as I poured death into my newfound enemies.

Pain flashed through my thigh as a blade pierced me. I broke free and spiked the soldier through the face. The water running off the top of the pyramid was running red with blood. The backdrop of the light-sucking altar and its spinning black tendrils were so close. I had to reach it. Razor-like steel cut through my back, breaking the coat of mail, and splattering my blood into the rain.

"NO!" I bellowed, turning and striking down the soldier who had dared to touch me. "YOU CAN NOT KILL ME!" The power of the artifact was thick upon me. I killed two others in one mighty swing. More wounds were inflicted on my flesh. I fell to my knees, but continued fighting. I cut a soldier's leg off, and finished him when he hit the ground.

That was all.

I pushed myself up. Slowly. Shakily. Bleeding from many punctures and lacerations. Dozens of bodies sprawled upon the pyramid top or across the stairs. My soldiers, my countrymen, all of them dead or dying. A few feet away, the final stone demon crumbled and flaked away into the rivers of blood and rain. Captain Thrall knelt upon its back, broken sword still clenched in one hand. His massive chest heaved with the exertion, and blood drizzled down his face from his lacerated scalp.

"Lord Machado," he said.

"Captain Thrall," I nodded.

We both looked at the darkness of the artifact, and then back at each other.

" 'Tis not meant to be, my General. 'Tis not meant for men to use such a black thing." His skull was visible through missing parts of his face.

"With it I can rule the world."

"Thou art lost without thy witch," the giant stated simply. The priestess' body lay nearby, partially submerged.

"I will bring her back," I hissed.

"My ancestors came to my dreams and told me of thy plans. Thou was destined to fail and to open the way for the return of the dark forces of the ancients through thy failure. My people are gone. I am the last. Yet I have not forgotten our sagas." The giant captain gradually heaved himself to his feet, shaking from the many grievous wounds on his body. A lesser man would have just lain down and died. "Ye shall not pass."

"Never." I used my ax to lever myself forward. "It is mine."

"I have made a vow to the spirits. I will protect this artifact until the end of time. No man will look upon its evil and live." The captain turned and stumbled toward the altar.

"It's mine!" I screamed as I hurled my heavy ax across the distance. The blade sunk deeply into his back. It was a lethal blow.

The captain fell forward into the swirling bands of crackling black energy. He bellowed in pain as the evil tore into his flesh. Searing him. Burning him. He was turned over and spun in the maelstrom of darkness. The bands sunk and bonded into his very skin, like a twisted inking, an evil living tattoo.

"I… vow… to… keep… it… from… you…" He was engulfed by the power. The whites of his eyes disappeared, to be replaced by solid inky blackness. He screamed in agony.

There was an explosion of color and energy as lightning struck the top of the pyramid. Pain and heat surged up through my armor, burning me and hurling me aside. I fell upon the stairs, rolling and tumbling, through the torrents of water, down, down into the darkness.

I gasped as the Old Man removed his hands from my head. I was once again myself. The jungle pyramid and its unholy storm were gone, replaced by the eerily silent 1940s Polish town.

"Holy shit!" I said. I felt terribly weak. "What happened?"

"In his mind too long," the Old Man said softly, "is great strain."

"The captain. Thrall. He is the Tattooed Man."

"Yes. Cursed like the rest of us. Always there is a catch with these things. How you say-I think… He got screwed."

Indeed. Cursed to guard an evil artifact for the last five hundred years. I could think of lots better ways to pass the time.

"But there is more?" I asked. There were still questions to be answered. "Lord Machado failed. That evil priestess chick got shot before they could finish the ceremony. Yet somehow he's still alive today. How did he become the Cursed One?"

"There is small bit of memory left. Only short time while he is still human, I think. Still that I must show you."

"You have to show me now, Mordechai," I pleaded. "If I can know how he became what he is, then I can know how to defeat him."

"Not yet. Too much strain. And rest I must."

"I can do it," I answered. "I have to be ready."

"No, Boy. Not ready. You wake up. Be ready for fight. Big fight for you today."

"Big fight?"

"Yes. Much big." He pointed his fingers and made shooting noises. "Much fight."

"You got any more little wooden carvings you want to send back with me?" I asked hopefully. "In case I need to roast any vampires?"

"Sorry, Boy. I surprised that work my own self."

"How could it anyway? I'm no expert of physics, but how can I take an immaterial thing into the material world?"

"Boy, much you have to learn. Even spirit is matter. Just much finer… Much simpler time when I used to hunt monsters. Shoot them with gun. Bang. Dead monster. Nice and simple. Monsters nowadays all complicated and hard to make dead."

"So any chance you might be able to scrounge up some toys then?"

He shrugged his thin shoulders. "I try. When time comes, I have something for help. Now go." He shooed me away. I turned to leave. "One last thing."

"Yeah?" I stood barefooted in the snow while I waited for him. He seemed to be trying to find the words. "Spit it out, Mordechai. Apparently I've got monsters to kill."

"Boy." He regarded me solemnly. "On this day. Try very hard not to get dead."

"I will try," I promised.

The Hind tore across the sky at rapid speed and dangerously low altitude. I awoke to the thrumming of the blades, the deafening roar of the engines, and the piped-in music from the Doors, "Riders on the Storm." Julie's head was resting on my shoulder. A lock of her hair had strayed from under her helmet and draped down her face. I brushed it back. She woke up and smiled tiredly.

She was still holding my hand.

Harbinger signaled for all of us to put in our earpieces so that we could communicate and do a radio check.

"Wake up, sleepy heads. We're only ten minutes out. Skippy is swinging wide around Corinth. His people have an agreement with the elves. No orcs on elf land. No elves on his. We'll be coming in from the south and will be setting down in a designated clearing. Feds have already gotten us on radio, and are even tracking us for surface to air missiles. Seedy bastards."

"I hope they don't get twitchy," Milo said.

"I hate the government," Sam stated coldly. "Remind me again why we're working with them?"

"They need us. We need them," Harbinger said.

"Not to be a jerk about it, but how exactly do we get paid for this?" Holly asked. "Saving the world don't pay the bills."

"Government representatives don't get to claim PUFF. By being here we will get at least an assist. Even that is worth a small fortune on a Master." Harbinger pulled his revolver, checked the rounds, spun the cylinder and reholstered. "Only I talk to the Wendigo. Everybody else stay way the hell back. He ain't friendly. When we go after the Cursed One, let the Feds go in first. At that point we're just observers. Let them do the bleeding. Pitt?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Damn it. Call me Earl. "Sir" is the Boss. Have you learned anything new? Is Mordechai Byreika still in your dreams?"

"No and yes. I've seen things. But I don't know what's going to be able to help us."

"Give us the short version," he ordered.

I quickly told the others about the human Lord Machado and his army, about the ancient city, about the evil priestess Koriniha and her dark priests, about the artifact, the ceremony, the sacrifice and, finally, the Tattooed Man.

"I've spoken with him," I said, "just now, in my dream. It was real. He was heading toward Montgomery. He's coming for the artifact, and he swears he's going to kill me."

"I don't care how bad everybody thinks this guy is, MHI don't roll over and take it from no five-hundred-year-old pukes," Sam said. "If he shows up, we cap his trash. That simple. Fricking magic tattoo bullshit. I've got a magic tattoo. It's a frog with a banjo and it's on my ass. I got it in Singapore."

"Classy," Holly said.

"Wanna see it sometime?" he asked as he removed his can of Copenhagen from his armor and snapped his wrist repeatedly.

"I'll pass, thanks."

"There was something else. The Old Man warned me. He said we're going to have a big fight today. He didn't say what, but I got the impression it was going to be bad."

"Figures. Anything else?"

"Nope."

"Lee? Give everybody the rundown on what we've gotten from the archives," Harbinger ordered, "anything that might prove useful."

"Sure." The diminutive Hunter cleared his throat. "There were no records of a conquistador general named Lord Machado anywhere. There were, however, some signs pointing to what was called the lost expedition. Early in the 1500s, the very first group dispatched into the interior, same basic area where Orellano would later discover the Amazon, but this group was never heard from again. All of the records about this expedition were destroyed by the military governor at Isle of the Cross, which is what they called Brazil back then. Even Walter Raleigh mentioned this lost expedition in his writings about El Dorado. Looking at what Owen has told us, I'm betting that was Lord Machado's group."

"What about the artifact or the Old Ones?"

"Just vague references to great and terrible evil. Lots of old Hunters have mentioned it in their writings, but I get the impression that none of them really knew what they were. Byreika's journal had the most about them."

"And?"

"Eldritch horrors, to paraphrase some Lovecraft. Horrible things that date back to before mankind, real serious, evil bad stuff. About the artifact itself? Byreika thought that it predated this world and was from somewhere else. I was kind of lost on that part. The journal was in Polish and I had to use a computer translator. It can be kind of hard to understand."

"He isn't much better in person," I mumbled.

"The first people recorded to have had it were the ancient Middianites, followed by the Assyrians. How it wound up in South America is anybody's guess. Supposedly it grants the user the power of the Old Ones. Control of time, space, energy, matter, that kind of thing. Anybody who tries to use it dies, unless you are one of the special people."

"Special?" Holly asked. "Like they ride the little bus to school?"

"No, I can't think of a better word for it. Once in a while someone comes along who has the ability to actually use this thing. Since the world is still here, we can assume that none of them have been successfully united with it yet. Except, of course, Lord Machado."

"The prophecy from my dream," I thought out loud. Just thinking about the black obelisk in the unnatural cavern made my skin crawl.

"Anything else?" Harbinger asked.

"Just that if this thing is activated by the right person, which we've got, and the right time, which is apparently tomorrow night, at the right place, which according to Ray Shackleford is right here, then we're pretty much boned. Stop them, and we save the world."

"Good thing," Milo said as he spit some sunflower seeds into a paper cup. "I like the world. It would suck to blow it up. Especially since I'm engaged now."

"What? Get out of here!" Harbinger said. "No way." Most of their team had a similar reaction.

"Who?" Julie asked. "I didn't even know you were dating."

"I bet I know," said Sam. "I bet it's that hot little scientist chick we rescued when we killed that mutant shrieker lizard in Guatemala. What was she again? A crip-to-whatsist?"

"Cryptozoologist," Milo said. He looked slightly embarrassed at the attention. "Shawna studies undiscovered animals. It's been a long-distance relationship. I kind of popped the question. She said yeah. You know…"

"Why didn't you tell us, man? That's great news," Harbinger said.

"I was a little distracted, what with the forces of evil, and the freighter, and the undead, and the elves, and the gargoyles, and the Feds, and stuff."

"Land… Gub Mint below. Land now." Skippy's gravelly voice came over the radio. "Good Milo. Find wife… Now should get… more wifes… only one wife… make for… lonely warrior."

"I'll take it under consideration, Skip," he said cheerfully.

"Take her down," Harbinger ordered. "Okay team. This is it. Stay frosty. Keep your cool around the Feds."

"Look who's talking," Sam murmured.

The Feds had set up a command post that could best be described as a tent city. And they had done it all this morning. In the distance, dozens of Mississippi state troopers blocked off the road. The members of MHI were greeted by uniformed National Guardsmen and led toward an enormous green tent.

The inside of the command tent was climate-controlled and sealed against chemical, biological and radioactive agents. It smelled faintly of new rubber and was bigger than most middle-class homes. An entire wall was covered in giant flat-screen televisions. Rows of computers were manned by military personnel or armored federal agents. Some of the screens showed real-time satellite imagery of the area in normal and thermal views. I could make out our helicopter parked on the grass. It was glowing bright yellow and red. Dozens of cameras must have been dropped over the Bottoms, showing several different shots of the swamp. Agent Myers was directing the circus, and for the first time since I had met him, he had ditched the suit and dressed for battle.

"Check the feed from the Predator drones. Send another one to parallel the Hatchie River. Have the AWACs divert all air traffic out of this area. I want those bombers in the air now. I want some with napalm, and some with penetrators if they're underground. Where are those Abrams?"

"They are on Seventy-Two, ETA fifteen minutes, sir," answered one of the Feds as he tapped away on one of the many computers. "They're passing through the town of Walnut."

"Good. We may need to steamroll something," Myers said as he nervously tugged at the straps on his armor.

"Sir? What about 'final option'?" asked one of the agents at a computer.

"Tell the Pentagon to scramble the B1. Have it ready. What's the payload on that?"

"We are cleared for low tactical yield. Five kilotons. Minimal radiation."

"Civilian casualties?" he asked.

"Within an acceptable level. This area is sparsely populated."

"Excellent," he said slowly.

"Holy shit. They're going to nuke Mississippi," Holly said.

Myers turned around. The National Guard lieutenant that had led us in saluted.

"Sir. Here are the guests you were expecting."

"About damned time, Earl. Where the hell have you been?"

"If you wanted us sooner, Myers, you should have sent a jet," he explained casually. "Are you really authorized to go nuclear?"

"I'm authorized to tow the moon down here and crash it into Earth if I think it would help," Myers answered sharply. "If you haven't noticed, somebody is planning on destroying all life on this planet. The President is willing to do what it takes to solve this problem, so as a last resort, yes, I'm ready to go nuclear."

"Say… when did they put you in charge of the Monster Control Bureau anyway?" Harbinger asked. "When I saw you in Texas you were still just an assistant director."

Myers fixed my boss with a look that would have killed most people. I didn't know what it was, but there was certainly some bad history between these two men. "Last Friday," he answered sullenly. "I'm just interim director until the President appoints somebody else. I received the call, and a few hours later I hear from you that seven Master vampires just touched down. It's been a hell of a week."

"So that's why you've been cranky," Harbinger answered wryly.

The senior agent sighed. "Look. Are you going to take us to this Wendigo thing or not?"

"I'll do it. No vehicles, though. He isn't going to come out if there are vehicles, and you'll need to pull the air cover back."

"I guess I don't have much choice." Myers gestured toward one of the screens, a real-time satellite feed of the Natchy Bottom area. Most of the picture, including the area that we were currently in, was perfectly and surprisingly clear. The center of the screen, however, was fogged. "A billion dollars in equipment, and I can't get a clear picture of the interior of the Bottoms. No cameras will work more than thirty feet into the swamp. I'm reduced to talking to Indian fairy tales."

"You know how Natchy Bottom is. It don't obey the same rules as the rest of the world."

"I know. All right then, let's get this over with."

The roof of the tent began to rattle as the rain started.

"It was clear five minutes ago," Lee said to me anxiously.

"Welcome to Mississippi," I answered.

The Monster Control Bureau men were honed and ready. Picked from elite military units and trained to a standard far surpassing our own, every one of them appeared to be chiseled from solid muscle and rock-hard bone. They made my team look a little dumpy.

"Agent Franks, ready the men," Myers ordered as we approached the waiting group.

Franks gave me a slight nod of recognition when he saw me. He emotionlessly returned to his men. "Listen up!" Franks shouted. The thirty black-armored men snapped to attention, weapons bouncing in their slings, magazines and explosives clanking. They regarded us with steely eyes. Some were bruised from their brief encounter with MHI the day before. Harbinger ducked under an overhanging tarp and nonchalantly lit a cigarette. The cold drizzling rain quickly soaked us all to the bone.

"Pay attention, men." Myers spoke loudly, but rather than resembling a military leader rallying the troops, he still made me think of a college professor giving a lecture. "We are going into Natchy Bottom. This is possibly one of the most dangerous places in the world. Once we get into the swamp, you will need to keep your wits about you. Things are not always what they seem in the Bottoms. It is an intersection of all that is wrong in the universe. Do not fire until I or Agent Franks order you to do so. We are searching for the Cursed One and seven Master vampires."

Some of the men began to mutter and shift nervously. I was glad to see that. They may have been hard-charging warriors, but at least they weren't stupid about it.

"Don't worry, men. We are not going in looking for a fight. Right now we are going in to speak with one of the creatures in the swamp. It will provide us with the location of the enemy, and they will be dealt with using overwhelming force," Myers assured them. "Even Masters are not so tough when you carpet-bomb them."

"We might have a man in there, Myers," Harbinger said coldly.

"Then you are more than welcome to go in and rescue him before the air strike," Myers answered. "Nothing personal, but I'm not risking thirty good men for one of yours." The agent continued, "The ten individuals standing behind me, some of you already may have made their acquaintance-" A few of the bruised Feds nodded sullenly. One of the men that had beat down Trip made a thumping motion with his fist. "-are from MHI. They are here to make contact with the swamp creature and extract information. After that, they get out of the way. Earl, if you would tell us about this creature, please?"

Harbinger tossed his cigarette to the ground, giving up because of the soaking rain. "It's a Wendigo. If you see something ten feet tall and real scary looking, don't shoot at it. You'll make him angry."

"Any questions?" Myers asked.

"Sir, how are we supposed to work with these people? We've got three men in the hospital because of them." The agent who asked that had a bandage over his nose. He glared at me when he spoke. It wasn't my fault he didn't know how to block.

"You will do as you're told," Myers said coldly.

One of the agents raised his hand. "What about sensor arrays?"

"They don't seem to work in the Bottoms. We will take our portable gear, and hopefully we will get some reception the deeper we get, but I would not count on it."

Another agent asked, "How about the robots?"

"Same thing. We can't count on electronics in the Bottoms. The last thing we need is for one of their sensors to mistake some of us for undead and blast us. The recognition software only runs ninety-eight percent in optimal conditions."

"Air support?"

"Not until after we speak with this Wendigo thing. We can call them in if we have an emergency."

"Armor backup?"

"Abrams are en route, and will arrive shortly. However, they will not be able to operate in most of the terrain. Ground is too soft."

"What a bunch of babies," Sam whispered to me. "We don't ever got none of that cool stuff."

"Jeez, Milo, how come we don't have killer robots?" Julie asked.

"You write the check," he answered.

"Attention team. Form up. Franks has operational command. I will remain at the command center in radio contact." Myers signaled toward his second in command. "Which way, Earl?"

Harbinger pointed towards the heart of the swamp.

Natchy Bottom was a still and unnatural place. The small amounts of ground were soft and treacherous. Long patches were covered in dank, fetid water, thick and overgrown with gnarled trees and thorned vines that grabbed and clutched at you. Roots and other unknown items were always underfoot, waiting to cause the unwary to stumble. The rain dripped down through the thick canopy of trees. It was early in the morning, but it was dark inside the Bottoms.

"Welcome to Dagobah," Trip joked.

"You are such a geek," Holly retorted.

I swatted a mosquito that landed on my cheek. It splattered bloodily. It was as big around as a dime. I swore under my breath.

"Just wait until we get done and you check for leeches," Sam said. "You can have hundreds of those suckers on you and not know it."

"And ticks. Don't forget the ticks," Milo added.

"Don't pay them any attention," Julie said. "The leeches and ticks here are big enough that you'll feel them when they latch on."

"Good," I answered. "I don't want to waste my time with wussy insects." I adjusted Abomination and forded on into the waist-deep muck.

The agents had broken into three teams, with MHI bringing up the rear in a rough diamond pattern. The agents moved like ghosts through the trees. They communicated totally with hand signals, and had drilled to the point that each team was a seamless blending of skill. I had to admit, they were impressive in action.

Then there was us.

"Wow. Did you see the size of that snake?"

"That wasn't a snake. It was a log."

"Hey, are there crocodiles here?"

"Alligators, moron. Crocodiles are in Africa."

"No, they aren't. Those are in Australia."

"Well, actually they're in both."

"You can tell the difference by the snout. I saw that on Animal Planet."

I idly wondered if the Monster Control Bureau were hiring.

Harbinger tapped me on the shoulder. "Do you sense anything?"

"No. It's just creepy. Why?"

"You've felt the Cursed One. You know him better than the rest of us. I just hoped you would know when he's near."

"Oh… Hey, Earl," I whispered. "I've got a question for you. How come we don't move like the Feds? All quiet and fast. We're just kind of clumped up and shooting the bull."

"Seems kind of unprofessional in comparison, don't it?" he asked. I nodded. "Well, let's look at this for a moment. I've been doing this kind of thing for a real long time, so I'm going to let you in on my philosophy." He lowered his Tommy gun and ducked under some puncture vines. "See how those guys are all intense? Real quiet like?"

"Yeah."

"All of them learned how to fight against human beings. Monsters are different. I bet most of those guys are multiple-combat vets. Were we to fight them, we would get our asses kicked, because they know how to fight people."

"You got them pretty good last night."

"Element of surprise, Owen. If I were to try that again they would pump my guts full of lead. Now here's the thing. They're moving like they're up against things with the same senses as them. I've got bad news, if the Masters are in this swamp, they already know we're here. And as far as being quiet so they can't sneak up on you, if a Master wants to sneak up on you, they are going to do it. Doesn't matter who you are. Well, with a few exceptions." He nodded toward Skippy and his brother Edward.

They were slightly apart from the group, heads cocked as they listened intently and sniffed the air. The two orcs were dressed in black and wearing their balaclavas, though they had ditched their glasses. Their yellow eyes studied the trees and the murky water with great interest. Skippy cradled an old AK47, adorned with feathers and small animal bones, while Edward's hands were empty, but with a pair of short swords strapped over his back. He looked like a ninja.

"How come Ed doesn't have a gun?"

"He's a lousy shot… Anyways, now those boys. They're our early warning system. Ed goes for his sword. Get ready. Orcs sense things different than us."

"And what about you?" I asked seriously. Obviously Harbinger had some gifts that were not normal.

"Me? I've just got more experience is all… Don't dwell on it." He chuckled. "Back to your question, now here's the real difference between us and the Feds. They always act like that. We're not creatures of habit. We can tailor our behavior for the situation. If we need to be quiet, we can be quiet. If we need to be fast, we can be fast. But have you noticed the biggest difference between us and them?"

"They're jerk-offs?"

"Besides that."

I thought about it for a moment. I watched as one of the Feds scurried behind a patch of stunted trees. He scanned around him nervously, the barrel of his stubby F2000 poking around quickly as he heard the splash of a small swamp animal. Relieved, he quickly moved on.

"Some of them are terrified," I answered.

"Bingo. They're quiet. But that means they can't talk to their team. That means that their minds are totally on their surroundings. And if you ain't noticed, we're strolling through one of the most evil places in the world. A place like this gnaws at your mind. You start to see things out the corner of your eye. Pretty soon you're seeing ghosts, and I ain't talking about the friendly kind like you've got riding around in your head. I mean the bad kind that are jealous of the living, and want you to be just as miserable as they are. While those Feds are getting nervous and jumpy, their minds playing tricks on them, when it comes time to throw down, we're going to be just fine. That's why you see my team shooting the bull."

"It keeps their minds off of all this." I gestured at the drizzly blackness. As I concentrated on the swamp, I could feel the chill, the cold, the eons of hate, and the ancient evil that lay under the murky water. I looked away and turned back to my team. "I'm with you."

We continued on, drenched by the splashing mud and the drizzling rain. It was summer, but it was probably only forty degrees inside Natchy Bottom. I was shivering beneath my heavy armor. I did not envy the smaller Hunters who lacked my insulating body fat. Who's laughing now, skinny people?

The deeper we got into the swamp, the darker and more sinister it grew. After an hour of walking, the radio finally crackled. We had previously tuned into the Feds' secure frequency. "This is Alpha team. We have a contact. There are some huts on a little island. One hundred yards south of us. They appear to be inhabited. Huts have some sort of light source, and there are some cooking fires. Over." Our team halted, waiting for more information. I used the opportunity to spray more bug repellant onto my exposed skin.