Monster Hunter Vendetta

It was almost as if I could see the mental shifting of gears. Mosh went from Angry Important Guy to Player mode. He took her hand, and wasn't very discreet as he checked her out. And Holly was a very attractive woman. "Well, nice to meet you, Holly. I'm Mosh Pitt, international superstar." He was such a cheese ball.

Oh, barf. I waited for Holly to throat-punch him.

She giggled. Tough as nails, killer of monsters, Holly Newcastle actually giggled. Like a…girl, or something. Trip and I looked at each other in confusion.

"You know, Mosh, I'm sure you've got a lot of questions that just haven't been answered. And your brother's been too busy to help you, so I can totally understand your frustration. I'd be glad to take the time to explain everything."

He nodded. "Yeah, there's been a lot going down. Maybe we could talk about this…over some lunch."

Oh my gosh. Holly was flirting with my brother. "Sure, that's a great idea. We're not exactly equipped for fine dining, but I could probably whip up a little something…Z, Trip, why don't you guys go talk to Earl. I'll catch up." She took Mosh by the arm. "Right this way."

Mosh winked at me. "Maybe this place doesn't totally suck."

They left for the kitchen. The female Newbies looked offended and the orcs were fighting over who got to keep the guitar that Great War Chief had actually used.

"What just happened?" Trip asked.

"Hell if I know. Either Holly's covering for us, or she's actually attracted to goofy-ass, bald men, with lots of tattoos and really stupid pointy goatees…My money's on getting him out of the way for me. I owe her one."

Trip folded his arms. "Well…I don't like it."

He actually sounded…jealous? Naw, that was absurd. "Come on, man. We've got to take care of business."

Earl leaned back in his chair and lit his fourth cigarette since I had begun my story. It was a good thing his tissues regenerated supernaturally or he surely would have died of lung cancer eons ago. He put his bare feet on the table and pondered on what I had said.

"I just can't believe it…" He shook his head. "All these years…"

Trip and I had found Sam and Earl in the basement office outside of Earl's prison cell. This was the place in which he usually cleaned up and calmed down after a werewolf stint. It was more of a bunker than an office, with some thrift-store furniture, a shower, and a door that looked like it had come from a bank vault. I knew behind that vault door was an even plainer room, with a tiny drain hole in the middle, and hundreds of thousands of scratches etched into the concrete. Sam was sitting off to the side. "All these years you've been beating yourself up about killing the little punk and it turns out he deserved it anyway."

My asthma was tearing me apart. There weren't any windows in the basement, and the air was thick with secondhand smoke. "Except it wasn't even him you killed."

Sam leaned forward. "So let me get this straight. Hood swapped bodies with some other dude, and it was that dude, in Hood's old body, getting mind controlled or something, that opened Earl's door?" I nodded. Sam paused to spit his chew in a Styrofoam cup. I was surrounded by nicotine addicts. "Man, that's some messed-up shit, right there."

Earl talked to the ceiling. "Why didn't you tell me, Carlos? We could have figured this out together."

"I'm sorry about your friend," Trip said.

"He was like a brother," my boss said simply. He lowered his head and faced us. I was glad that the anger in that look wasn't directed at me. "Marty Hood…It sounds stupid, but the more I think about it, the more it fits. He was always into that stuff. Him and Ray were always poking around the archives. Trying to understand monsters. You don't understand them…you understand how they think enough to track them down and destroy them. There's a big difference."

"So the necromancer was a Hunter. He knows our capabilities. Did Hood know about the compound's ward stone?"

"Ward what?" Sam asked. If Sam Haven didn't even know about the warding, then that meant very few Hunters did.

"Long story, Sam." Earl shook his head. "Hood shouldn't. I never told him. The last time we fiddled with it, he had already been moved to Carlos' team. We kind of take it for granted, don't really talk about it much."

"So now what do we do?" I asked.

Earl appeared exhausted, with black circles under his eyes. He pulled a pair of socks out of the desk and started putting them on. "Let me think on it. We'll talk again later. Right now, I've got to get presentable. I need to play referee while the team leads fight over who gets which Newbie."

"I want the Haight brothers," Sam said quickly. "I need more shooters, and those boys are tough." I knew which Newbies he was talking about right away. They were two brothers from Utah, whose construction crew had accidentally dug up the resting place of some evil spirit while laying a foundation. Both were rodeo tough guys and longtime varmint hunters; they had also been by far the best gunmen in this class.

"I can't give you both of them," Earl said.

"Aw…come on, man. They made a bomb out of five hundred pounds of ammonium nitrate fertilizer on the spot and blew up a skinwalker. That's the kind of initiative I need!"

"You and everybody else, Sam. I give you both of them, and I'll have to listen to the others complain about favoritism."

Sam smirked. "Well, I am your favorite. Okay, if I can't have them, then I want that Torres kid." Trip and I snickered. "What? Something about him I don't know? He seems squared away."

"He should be. He's one of Franks' men," I replied. "He's one of my protective detail."

Sam scowled. "Now you're just messing with me."

"No, I'll explain later," Earl said as he tied his boots. "You can't have Archer or Herzog either. They're Feds too."

"Well, Archer had struck me as a good support guy. Those anal-retentive OCD types usually are, all organized and shit. But Herzog…" He grimaced, "I don't know why anybody would pick her. During the interview she went off about how a centralized government is the best way to hunt monsters. What a hag."

That reminded me of something. "She's not an operator. She's a clerk."

Earl looked up. "What?"

"She's not a Hunter at all. But she was assigned to this job by Myers himself. Herzog slipped up and admitted it because she was worried about you eating her. No offense."

"She's not my type," my boss responded dryly. "That doesn't make any sense. Why would Myers send a desk jockey on a protection job?"

"Beats me," I responded. "But Myers picked those three to back up Franks for a reason. And I can't figure out why."

Earl stood and threw on his ancient bomber jacket. "I want to speak with Myers anyway. He needs to know his old buddy is our bad guy…I'm sure Franks already reported in, but I can't wait to rub it in personally." He smiled maliciously. "Good old Myers wanted to kill me for that night, and when he didn't get his wish, he tried to ruin this whole company instead. He's screwed us every chance he's had, and it turns out that he was just as big a sucker as the rest of us."

There was a knock at the door, and Julie entered, only to stagger back as she hit the wall of smoke. "Oh wow, how can any of you guys breathe in here?"

"Man business," Sam stated. I coughed painfully.

Earl poked himself in the chest. "Regeneration. What's up?"

Julie saw me and grinned, forgetting Earl for a moment. "You're back." Her smile brightened my day. I'm such a sap. She got down to business. "We need you upstairs. VanZant is arguing with Mayorga again about who gets the top support person. Hurley's adamant he wants both techs, and says he needs another Spanish speaker. Esmeralda's taken a bunch of folks out to the range because Eddings thinks she's fudged the shooters' scores. He says there's no way that she can be graduating this many Newbies and more probably should have flunked."

My boss groaned. "That's because last time he trained, we only passed six people and he can't admit she's a better trainer than he is. These guys are the best killers the world has ever seen, but I swear sometimes running this show is like herding manticores." There was a sudden banging from inside Earl's cell. "And another thing, why is that thing in here?"

"Oh, I almost forgot about him. What's his face…Melvin. We needed to stick him someplace secure," Julie explained.

"Great, now my cell's gonna smell like troll," Earl muttered.

"He still might know something," she said. "I figure give him a few days without internet access and he'll be ready to talk."

Earl shook his head. "I'll have Milo order some air fresheners before the next full moon. Okay, everyone, that's all for now. We'll talk again later." The group dispersed.

Eyes watering, lungs burning, I stumbled into the hall. Julie took me by the hand as the others kept walking. "You okay?"

"Asthma," I replied.

"No, I mean, about everything. Something bad happened at Appleton, didn't it?" she asked.

"How can you tell?"

Julie was worried about me. "You seem…distant."

She was right to be concerned. She didn't know just how much I had been using the power that I had gained from that artifact shard. I stroked her hair, and as it parted, the black mark on her neck was revealed. There were a lot of things I hadn't confided to her yet, but since she was the most important person in my world, I needed to. "Everything's going to be fine. Don't worry. Come on, I'll tell you all about it. But let's get some fresh air."

"Oh, it isn't that easy," Julie said. "You forgot something. You've still got another challenge to face."

"Oh, man, what now? Walk the Hell Hounds? Clean the pterodactyl cages?"

"Not quite that terrifying. But still, he's pretty darn scary."

I had totally forgotten. "Dad."

I found my father sitting on a bench outside the main building next to a larger man who I recognized as one of our senior team leaders. His name was Benjamin Cody, and he was leading the team that was currently fulfilling our contract with the Department of Energy. Their patch was a molecule with fangs under the words exite! chemicus sum! Which was Latin for, Back off, man! I'm a scientist! That team had the proud history of having cleaned up Los Alamos after the Manhattan Project had unfortunately dabbled in other, less successful, types of weapons projects. Cody was one of the oldest active Hunters, and you had to be damn smart to get assigned to that contract. They were our specialists when it came to taking care of science projects gone bad. Julie had mentioned recently that Cody was mulling over the idea of retirement.

He had also served with Dad in Vietnam. I had learned that fact last summer when he had tried to pump me up to go kick Lord Machado's ass. So at least Dad had found a friend. I approached them from behind. They apparently didn't hear me, but what could you expect from two guys who had spent the best years of their life surrounded by explosions? Cody was telling a familiar story. "So, then they find this back door into the cavern…it's some sort of magic portal. No hesitation, balls to the wall, your boy actually jumps through it, grabs the hostage, and runs out, with like fifty wights right at his feet."

Dad stopped him. "What's a wight?"

"Think of a zombie on steroids that paralyzes you with a touch. But anyway, that was just the beginning. The rest of us were busy fighting these Master vampires, and we were running out of time, when the kid went back through the portal with a small group to take on the head asshole himself."

I swelled with pride. Everybody in MHI knew about my exploits at DeSoya Caverns.

"Brave and stupid. Sounds like my offspring," Dad grunted.

Never mind. I cleared my throat so they would know I was present.

Cody turned around. "Well, afternoon, Z." He extended one callused hand. I shook it. "I was just telling your father about the last time we worked together."

"That was a tough day," I replied. My dad scowled at me, as if to say that I wasn't qualified to judge such things.

"A bunch of us didn't come back," Cody replied as he stood. He was a burly man, thick-shouldered, with a gray beard and mane of hair that made him look vaguely like an old lumberjack. "Well, I've got to get back to work." He turned his attention back to Dad. "It was good to see you again, Augie."

"Likewise, old friend," my father replied. "It makes me feel a little better to see that this outfit isn't entirely staffed with nut jobs."

"Who said that it wasn't?" Cody smiled. "It takes some getting used to, but this is as good a group of men as I've ever served with. And we've got a hell of a good CO."

Dad's brow creased. "You mean, Mr. Wolf?"

Cody didn't show any reaction, even though all of the team commanders were aware of Harbinger's condition. "I wouldn't know. But if Earl Harbinger came to me and said he needed volunteers to follow him on a suicide mission into Hell's bathroom, I'd go in a heartbeat, just for the chance to watch him kick Satan off his crapper. Don't worry, Aug, your boy's in good hands." The two old vets shook hands and said their good-byes. I waited patiently.

After Cody left, Dad gestured at the empty spot on the bench. I took a seat. "We've got some things to talk about," he said simply, eyes staring into the distant forest. There was a constant rattle of gunfire coming from the shooting range as the Newbies showed off what they'd learned.

"Mom told me you've been sick. She wouldn't let me talk to you yesterday. What's wrong?"

"She's protective like that," he responded, avoiding the question. "That's not why you're here."

"I want to know about this dream of yours."

He shook his head sadly. "You wouldn't understand…" My laugh was so sudden and bitter that I must have surprised him. "What?"

"Wouldn't understand?" My voice dripped with anger. "Don't treat me like I'm a stupid kid."

"Listen, boy-"

I cut him off. "No, you're going to listen to me for once. I've stood at the edge of the universe and seen what's on the other side. I've faced off against evil that most people couldn't even comprehend and I shot it in the face. I've traveled through friggin’ time. " A lot of pent-up aggression fought its way to the surface. "I've read people's minds. I've seen some things that no sane person would ever imagine. I'm not here for you to bully, and push around and scare. So don't you treat me like I'm your fat, dumb, never-good-enough child, Dad. I've had enough of your crap, and it's time I got some straight answers. Man to man."

Dad waited. "You done?"

I realized I was breathing hard. "Yeah."

He smiled slightly. "Cody was right. You do take after me. Stubborn. Now put a sock in it." He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out an envelope that had been folded neatly in half. He handed it to me. My name had been scribbled across the front in bold black letters. "You know I've never been much of a talker, and Lord knows you aren't a very good listener, so I wrote it down for you. I spent all last night and all morning putting down every detail so I wouldn't forget anything."

I took the envelope. "This is the dream?"

"You could say that. Vision, prophecy, whatever." I started to open it, but his hand landed on mine. Dad started to speak, but hesitated.

"What?"

"Once you read that letter, my life will be over."

That sounded ominous. He was dead serious. "What do you mean?"

His voice was strained. "I've been living on borrowed time for over thirty years. My life was a loan, and once you read that," he gestured at the letter, "the loan can get called. So humor me."

"I don't understand."

My dad chuckled. "See, I told you so, Mr. Know-it-all. There's a place, a terrible place inside the border of the old Soviet Union. The coordinates are on that sheet. I was sent there on a black op a long time ago. Some really shady stuff was going on, some weird weapons' project, and we needed to find out what it was. I didn't survive…"

"Huh?"

"I was murdered. Dead. Done. Literally, a hole blown through my skull. But I was sent back, healed, given that dream and a charge that I couldn't fail. See, I wasn't done yet. I was told that I was going to have a son, and I had to prepare him for something unthinkable."

I didn't know what to say. It sounded so farfetched, so impossible. But then again, I had experienced the same thing myself. Mordechai had told me I'd drawn the short straw and then sent me back to slug it out with the Cursed One to see who got to decide the fate of the world. You could say I was pretty open-minded.

"I never knew if it was going to be you or David, but one of you was chosen before you were born. But from what I've heard over the last few days, you must be the one. I'm sorry, son."

"I am the one," I responded. "But I did the job, and I'm still here."

He spied a stick on the ground, bent over, and used it to draw a design in the dirt. He tore at the ground furiously. The symbol was unfamiliar.

When he was done, he asked, "Have you seen this before?"

Looking at it left me strangely queasy. It wasn't like the Old Ones' writing I had seen in Lord Machado's memories, or like Hood's grimoire, nor was it like anything I had seen in the regular world. But at the same time, it seemed like something I should recognize, but it was just beyond the edge of my consciousness. "No. I haven't."

"Then it isn't time yet. When you see that sign, the time has come."

"What does it mean?"

"It's a name." He kept the stick in his hand and absently poked it at the dirt. "There were a few other signs. Some that I could see happen and others that I wasn't sure about. The five minutes of backward time. That was one of them. Before it happened, I had almost been able to convince myself that none of this was real. You kids were grown-up, leading your own lives, the dream wasn't coming as often, and maybe I had imagined the whole thing, you know. But the five minutes, that settled things."

My father didn't know that that had been my doing. There was no way he could know that. "That was my fault."

He nodded, unsurprised. "That was part of it. In the dream, time is like a tube filled with water. As time goes by, the water freezes. The past is frozen solid, unchangeable, but the future is fluid until it happens. We live at the surface of the ice, the present. The water goes on forever. Whatever you did flash-melted a tiny bit of that water, moved us back in time. You woke him up."

"Who?"

He gestured at the symbol, an unknown player in this game. Then he erased it with his foot, blotting it out with a look of disgust on his face. "You had no choice. There are multiple sides at work, and if any of them win, we lose. This is the first and the last. That jackass that's messing with us right now? He's with one faction, but his side isn't the worst. Not by a long shot."

"How do you know this stuff, Dad?"

"It's all in the note. And once you read it, my job will be done." He sighed. "I had a good run."

I lifted the envelope. "You make it sound like as soon as I look at this, you're going to just keel over or something. What's going on?"

Dad paused. "Nothing."

I groaned. "You're the worst liar ever. It has something to do with Mom saying you're sick, doesn't it?"

He smiled. "When I died, I got shot here. Boom. Headshot. Asshole with a Dragunov." He tapped his finger to the base of his skull. It was utterly improbable, but I lived in a world of improbabilities. "Then I met the others. They stuffed my brains back in, fixed me up, sent me back, and I woke up on a mountainside covered in my own blood, with the understanding that when my mission was complete, when my son was prepared and taught, it was time to go home. A couple of years ago, guess what a physical turned up? Right in the exact same place…"

His words hung in the air. My world came crashing down. It was impossible. It couldn't be. "Oh no, please, no."

"There's no way to operate without killing me. The mass is at the base of my brain. But it hasn't grown or changed since the doctors found it. It's just sitting there, waiting. Just a lump of abnormal cells. Usually it don't bother me. I know it's not going anywhere until my job's done. That's a lot more assurance than a man can ask for."

"Does Mom know?"

He nodded.

His life had been prolonged to give me this? I shoved the letter toward him. "Take it back."

My dad didn't move. "I can't. The time will come that you'll need it. See, I'm not the only dead man walking here. Your fate is sealed as much as mine. Only you can't be weak. You can't fail." He grabbed my arm, hard, and shoved the letter back against my chest. His eyes bored into mine. "You have to be strong. "

I didn't know what to say. Stunned, speechless, his hand crushing mine and the letter, I sat there. All these years, all the things that he had taught me, it was all for this. "Don't do this to me."

He let go. "Son, I'm sorry. But we're both soldiers. We didn't pick the job. It picked us. It isn't like I'm going to live forever anyway. And now that I know you're the one, there's no time to waste. The longer you hesitate, the stronger he'll become. Read the note. It'll tell you what must be done."

"That's insane. I can't kill you."

Auhangamea Pitt, war hero, man of courage and honor, father, wiped his eyes and turned away from me. "My job's done. I just hope that when you read this, you can know that I was just doing what I felt was right."

It wasn't right at all. For the first time in my life I finally felt like I knew where my father had been coming from. We'd talked, finally as equals, hoping to come to terms, to understand him, not this. It wasn't right. It wasn't fair. But I knew what Dad would say to that, the same thing that he'd told me for years. Life isn't fair.

But I was tired of being a pawn in some cosmic game. I stood and dropped the note on the bench next to Dad. He just looked at it, then back at me, disappointed. I had to get out of here. "Well, whoever this scumbag is, he can get in line. Dream your dream, and tell the people who sent you back that I'm not ready yet."

"It won't work, son. This is inevitable."

"I'm getting real tired of that word," I spat. "I'll find a way to beat this. My father didn't raise any quitters…I'll talk to you later, Dad."

Inevitable.

There had to be a way to fix this. That's what I do. I fix things. I find ways to make them right. There had to be a way.

I half walked, half stumbled, away from my father. I wandered aimlessly across the compound. There was a spot of shade under the roof of the barracks. It was a secluded spot, and I leaned against the wall, head in my hands. Before I knew it, my knees had weakened, and I sank to the ground, shaking.

I couldn't wrap my brain around not having my dad around. He had always been a rock. What was going to happen to Mom? Hell, somebody had to tell Mosh. I needed to talk to him, to somebody, but I couldn't find the strength to rise. So I sat there for a long time, just tired, too dumbfounded to string a coherent plan together, feeling stupid and guilty for not staying with my father.

Finally, something woke me from my stupor, a hard tapping on my arm.

"What're you crying about?" G-Nome was standing in front of me, partially hidden in the shadows of the barracks. The sky behind him indicated that dusk was approaching. I had been sulking for a long time.

"I wasn't crying…" I rubbed my face. "What do you want?"

"Sissy," he answered. With me sitting down, I still towered over him, even if you counted his pointy hat. "You humans get all emotional about shit…Well, I done found your spy."

That got my attention. "Who?"

"It wasn't easy. But I caught him. He's been texting on his phone. I been readin' over his shoulder. He's been tellin' somebody where you at all the time."

"Who?" I demanded.

The gnome smiled, eyes twinkling over rosy cheeks and puffy white beard. He took his time answering, taking a cigar out of his shirt and lighting it. He must have realized that I was about to wrench his head from his shoulders and finished quicker than he started. "That pretty-boy human, Grant."

"Grant Jefferson? You're sure?"

G-Nome took a long puff, then blew it out in a perfect ring. "Sure, I'm sure. Last night, when you left with that blonde hottie and your homie, he waited till you got outta sight and then he was all like textin' some fool about it. I read it, sayin' you had bags packed, like you was escapin' out the back, know what I'm sayin? But I been followin' him to make sure and he just got called by somebody checkin' on you."

"No chance you're wrong?"

"Hells yeah. He texts in all the time. Always sayin' where you're at and who you're talkin' to. When you went to sneak out last night, he'd sent the message before you'd even made it out the back door! Ain't just about you all either. He's been tellin' them all about MHI business."

Bastard. All that talk about needing to succeed, not being a quitter, and I had bought that, hook, line, and sinker. He had totally snowed me. I should have trusted my initial instincts. My legs had fallen asleep, and tingled painfully as I stumbled to my feet. Coldly, I drew my.45 from my inside the waistband holster and pulled back the slide slightly to make sure I had a round chambered. "Where is he?"

"In the big building. My dawg, Harbinger's talkin' to his peeps, some graduation ceremony or somethin', I don't know. That's why I had to find you. You gonna bring the pain?"

"I intend to kill him if that's what you mean." I shoved my gun back in the holster.

"Sweet!" G-Nome turned his head to the side, as if listening to something I couldn't hear from inside the barracks. His nose twitched, like he was smelling the air, and he suddenly frowned. "That ain't right. Gotta bounce. Have fun." And with a pop, he disappeared from sight.

I started toward the main building, murder on my mind. Thirty yards away was a figure leaning against the trunk of a tree, waiting. Franks had been following me the entire time, fulfilling his duty, but keeping his distance while I had my emotional collapse. I passed him without a word. I didn't turn my head to look, but I knew he followed.

As long as he didn't try to get in my way for what was about to come next, I didn't care. The traitor had to die.

The rational part of my mind urged caution, that maybe I should slow down, think it through, get some help first…Maybe it was because of my dad's terrible news, maybe it was because I somehow knew with absolute certainty that the gnome was telling the truth, I didn't know exactly, but rationality went right out the window and I was in a red haze of anger that could only be cured by facing the traitor.

The main building was busy. Everyone was congregating for the graduation ceremony that Esmeralda had organized. Earl was going to say a few words, and then announce where the Newbies were going. The atmosphere was one of excitement. Nobody else was aware that I was a man on a mission as I barged through the entrance. Dorcas was behind her desk, being harassed by joyous Newbies. From the look of her, I was guessing that for the special occasion there was more in her coffee cup than just coffee. She saw me and started shooing the others away. "Z, where've you been? Julie's looking for you, but your phone isn't picking up."

That's because my BlackBerry was at the bottom of the river outside Montgomery. "Have you seen Grant?"

She must have realized from my expression that this was serious. "No. What's going on?"

I glanced in both directions, just a bunch of Newbies walking toward the cafeteria. Earl was about to speak. "Has anyone seen Grant Jefferson?" I asked loudly. The Newbies shrugged and continued on.

Franks tapped me on the shoulder with one gloved hand. "What are you doing?"

"Taking care of some personal business," I responded as I kept walking.

Franks began to say something, but paused as his phone started buzzing. He looked at the display in frustration, then stopped to read the text. I took the opportunity to head down the hallway after the Newbies.

The cafeteria was packed with folding chairs and loafing Hunters. The leads were all sitting in front, joking and heckling each other. The Newbies were filing in, taking their seats. Earl was pacing back and forth, waiting for everyone to gather. Not being the kind of person to go for a lot of ceremony, he was wearing his regular scuffed bomber jacket and looked agitated that he was doing this kind of thing. I'd heard him refer to his little talks as dog and pony shows more than once, but he was a hell of a good motivator. Julie was seated next to her grandfather. She waved when she saw me.

I was too preoccupied to wave back. Scanning the crowd, I saw just about everyone I expected to. Even my parents were there as guests watching the spectacle, but no Grant. I hadn't formulated a plan yet. Dragging him out of the room by the hair was probably not the most discreet tactic, but it was the one that I was currently running with.

I waited. Maybe he was coming. The Goon Squad was there, still pretending to be Newbies. Torres was the last of the undercover Feds to arrive, and when he saw me standing at the doorway, he paused and waited next to me. "You okay?" he asked, ever helpful. He must have seen the expression on my face, and grew worried. "Owen?"

I didn't answer. The last of the Newbies pushed past me, looking for seats. The gang was all here, over sixty Hunters. Julie handed Earl a microphone and he rapped it sharply. The intercom speakers thumped.

"Sorry, but I have to use this thing," Earl said, "Julie didn't think that it was fair that the Hunters manning the security room couldn't listen in. I don't know what she's thinking, because it ain't like I'm much of a talker." The room laughed.

The security room. Julie had scheduled it so that at least two people were in there manning the cameras continuously since Susan's visit. I exited and ran down the hallway. Grant might be there, and if he wasn't, I could use the cameras to find him.

I had always suspected it could be him, the slimy little prick. He had left the company with his tail between his legs. I bet he had been an easy mark for the Condition. I didn't know what they were paying him, but whatever it was, wasn't enough. He had come crawling back at such a convenient time…We were such suckers. Grant had probably jumped at the chance to betray us when he had found out it was all about killing me. Black anger welled up in my heart. Knowing the kind of evil we were fighting, it wouldn't surprise me in the least if his payment was in the form of Julie. Oh, this was personal now.

Earl's voice was tinny over the intercom as he got down to business."Welcome, Hunters. And I can actually say that now. Hunters. Because there aren't any Newbies in this room now, just equals." The sound that came next had to have been applause, but it was hard to tell.

I flew down the stairs to the basement. The door to the security room was straight ahead down a long hallway. I stuck one hand under my shirt and put it on the butt of my gun.

"No need to clap. Besides, if you get Boss Shackleford clapping he's likely to hurt himself with that hook." More laughter. "Just kidding, Boss."

My blood was pounding in my ears. If Grant was in that room, I was going to end his miserable life. At the end of the hall, the door was closed.

"Young Hunters, look at these people sitting in front of you. These are the finest leaders MHI has ever had. I've worked with every single one of them, and wouldn't hesitate to trust my life to their hands. Regardless of who you're assigned to today, you can know that you're with the very best. Well, except for Sam…for those of you stuck with him…sorry about that." There was a loud response, but it was indecipherable over the intercom. More laughter. "I'd put the microphone there, but I don't think that's legal in Alabama."

My boots skidded across the concrete as I reached the security room. I grabbed the doorknob. It was locked.

"Before Esmeralda reads off your name and your assignment, let me just say that this is the most successful training class we've ever conducted. I've interviewed you all. I've seen your records. I've watched you improve. I've been impressed, and I don't impress easy."

I rapped on the door. "Come on…" I whispered.

"When you came here a few short months ago, you were all survivors. That's what set you apart from the rest of the world. A survivor has heart. A will to win. A desire to live. You were survivors, but now you're something more…"

My pounding increased in intensity. Nobody was answering.

"You are Hunters."

Something was wrong. I stepped back, and with a roar, slammed my boot into the steel door. Pain shot up my injured ankle. The frame cracked, but it held.

"Survivors take care of themselves. Hunters take the fight to the other side. We are the final line against evil."

I stepped back again, readying myself to kick the door again. Somebody shouted from down the hall. "Owen!" I spun to see who it was.

"We will hold the line."

It was Grant. He was walking down the hall toward me, five yards away. His arms were held wide and he had his phone in one hand. "What the hell are you doing to that door?"

My.45 appeared in my hand and I punched it toward him. "Don't move! Don't you fucking move!"

"Whoa! Whoa! Calm down!" Grant cried. He was wearing his armored suit so I aimed at the junction of his nose and eyes.

"What are you doing down here?" I shouted.

"Somebody said you were looking for me," he said calmly. "Now put the gun down. You're acting nuts."

"I'm nuts? I'm not the traitor, you son of a bitch."

Grant paused, a painful look crossing his handsome features. "I don't know what you're talking about." Earl's voice was just background noise now.

My gun didn't waver. If he so much as twitched I was going to blow his brains out. "Don't you lie to me," I hissed. "I know all about your messages." I nodded at the phone. "Why'd you do it?"

His eyes flicked unconsciously to the device in his hand. "Just calm down, Owen." He slowly put the phone back into his pocket, then put his hands back up.

"Why, Grant? Do you hate me that much? Do you hate Julie that much? Are we talking jealously, or is it something worse? Do you actually believe what the Condition stands for? Tell me, because I really want to understand before I kill you."

He was blinking rapidly, knowing that I wasn't bluffing. "It isn't what you think."

That sealed his fate. I tightened my grip. The safety was off. My finger was on the trigger.

"Wait!" someone ordered from the direction I had come.

I kept the gun on Grant, but turned my head slightly to see. It was MCB Agent Herzog. Directly behind her was Agent Torres. They must have followed me downstairs. "Get Franks. I found your spy." I turned my attention back to Grant. "And tell him to hurry, because if he wants to interrogate him, he'll need his own necromancer."

"Listen to me," Grant pleaded. "Yeah, I've been spying on MHI, but for a good reason. Let me explain. I'm trying to help."

"I've heard that line before, you sack of-" Then I thought of something. Nobody had answered the door to the security room, even after all the noise I had made. I lowered my gun slightly, and threw a brutal side kick into the steel. This time the bolt tore through the frame. "Don't try to run or do anything stupid. You know I don't miss," I ordered.

I risked a quick glance into the security room.

There was blood everywhere.

"Son of a bitch…" I covered the distance to Grant quickly, my gun on him the whole time.

"Wait. What's going on?" he asked. "I don't-"

I struck him in the face with the butt of my compact STI. He stumbled back into the wall. I hit him again, slamming his head into the concrete. He raised his hands to protect his face, but I swatted them down and smashed my gun into his temple. Then I rammed my knee into his ribs repeatedly with savage fury. He slid to the ground. I jerked his pistol from its holster and tossed it down the hallway. I grabbed him by the boot and dragged his semiconscious weight back to the security room.

The agents were still standing there. Herzog was shocked. Torres had drawn his sidearm and was pulling something out of another pocket, probably his radio. "Sound the alarm," I ordered as I dragged Grant through the door. Herzog glanced inside, saw the carnage, turned a ghastly shade of green, and stumbled back.

I turned my attention to the security room. Blood was splattered all over the bank of monitors. There was a single Hunter on the floor, facedown in a giant red puddle. Adrenaline and fury were pounding through my veins. I rolled him over. It was one of the Newbies. The taxi driver. I couldn't even remember his name. His throat had been cut.

Flat on his back, Grant groaned.

I kicked him in the side. "Why? What'd he do to you?"

"Wasn't me!" he cried.

I squatted down. It was time to end it. "You want to worship the Old Ones? Well, tell them hi for me." I placed my gun against his temple.

Grant sputtered something. It took me a second to realize he was laughing at me. His teeth were red with blood. "Old Ones? God, you're a moron…Sure, I'm a spy, but not for the Condition."

What?

"He's working for the Monster Control Bureau," Agent Anthony Torres said from the doorway. "Myers recruited him after he left MHI."

"Are you serious?"

Grant gasped as he looked over my shoulder. "It's you!"

Torres was standing over me, collapsible baton extended above his head. "Yes." Then he cracked me hard, lights exploded in my skull, snapping my head around. The floor came up and hit me.

"Anthony! What are you doing?" Herzog screeched. I couldn't see what happened next, but there was a sudden whump.

Sitting up, I raised my gun but another quick strike of the baton knocked it from my hand. Torres kicked me in the chest, sending me back to the ground.

"Stop right there," he stated as he raised his HK in his other hand. A fat sound suppressor had been screwed onto the muzzle.

My head hurt. That baton had nailed me good. The spinning room lurched to a stop. "What are you doing?" I grunted.

"I'm completing my mission," Torres said calmly. His normally cheerful disposition had been replaced with something cold. He stepped completely into the room and closed the damaged door behind him. Back against the wall, he kept the gun pointed at me. I realized with a start that Herzog was also down, a gaping hole in the side of her head, brains dripping down the wall behind, eyes like glass, open and staring at nothing. "I never did like her," Torres said. "Too bossy." Then he lowered his gun and shot her twice more, each round from the suppressed pistol sounding like the slamming of a thick book. It was back on me before I could do anything.

Grant struggled to sit up, but began coughing. I had really hit him good.

"Hunters, as you enter the world, your greatest weapon is the trust you have in your team, "Earl said over the intercom. The intercom speaker was next to Torres and he turned it off.

"I've listened to enough blowhards for one night," Torres said. His demeanor had changed. The friendly act was cast aside, and now I could see the crazy in his eyes. Damn, he'd been a good actor. "You know, you look confused, Owen. Let me try to help you out here. I'm an acolyte in the Exalted Order of the Shadows, that's who I really work for. Jefferson here is pretending to work for MHI, when he's really working for Myers. His assignment was to help Franks catch which of your detail was the spy."

"Traitors," I muttered. "Both of you."

"I was trying to serve my country…" Grant said, spitting a gob of blood on the floor. "Unlike this piece of shit."

Undeterred, Torres' HK kept floating between Grant and me. If either of us moved, we were dead. "Well, you did find me finally, Agent Jefferson. I'll give you that." Torres smiled. "Maybe you'll get a posthumous promotion for catching me…"

"Squid lover," Grant spat.

"Don't knock it until you try it." He turned his attention back to the door, and peeked through the crack down the hallway. The gun was still pointed in our direction. Torres was a pro. "Don't try anything stupid, Pitt."

"Grant, what the hell's going on?" I hissed.

"I was trying to help you, moron." Grant moaned as he sat up. "Myers knew the MCB had been infiltrated. I was supposed to watch out for you and back up Franks. When one of Myers' people, Patterson, was killed trying to infiltrate the cult, there were only a few agents who knew about her cover."

My head was spinning, and not just from Torres' baton. Myers had shown me pictures of Agent Patterson. She had been the one chopped into pieces-Franks' friend. Torres was still listening and turned his attention back to us, grinning.

"Served the bitch right, trying to lie to the sacred Order. There were only a handful of us who knew about Ashley's assignment. Archer took care of her comms. Herzog"-Torres gestured at the dead woman-"processed her reports. And I was her field backup. Myers could only narrow it down to the three of us. He was suspicious, but couldn't be certain if he'd been betrayed or if the Order was getting its intel some other way. When the Dread Overlord sent his request for your utter destruction, that toad Myers saw his opportunity. He knew if one of us was a spy, we'd surely reveal ourselves to take a shot at you."

It made sense. That's why Herzog was just a clerk. They had never been here to protect me. They had been here simply to see which one tried to kill me and then Franks or Grant could capture them. I didn't know if I was angrier at Torres the traitor or Myers for bringing this down on our heads.

"You weren't supposed to figure that out…" Grant said.

"I wasn't supposed to know about you either. Looks like Myers underestimated the Order again." Torres went back to watching the hallway. He was waiting for something.

I had to keep him distracted. I had to go for that gun. "So this whole thing about MHI having a spy was a lie?"

"Oh, no," Torres said. "You've got bigger problems, an actual doppelganger." He gestured at the blood-soaked Newbie, almost reverently. "This is its work. In fact…" He glanced absently at his watch. "We both have our missions, and our assignment is almost done. Check out the monitors."

Beneath the blood splatter were twenty different black and white ten-inch screens. The compound was well covered. The one of the cafeteria was packed with Hunters as Earl wrapped up his speech. The other views were mostly empty, but movement caught my eye on one of the central ones. A group of shapes were moving toward the barracks. Men with guns.

"Fellow acolytes," Torres said proudly.

"Half a dozen ass-wipes aren't going to stand up to a bunch of pissed-off Hunters," I said. "Hell, Earl will probably just eat them."

Torres was enjoying himself. He turned away from the door. "Our doppelganger will neutralize your little werewolf at the proper time, with MHI-issued silver bullets even. My brothers are here to destroy your ward stone." The look on my face must have betrayed my surprise. "Oh yes, we know all about that. Harbinger thought secrecy would protect it. Not even our High Priest was privy to that. But Myers knew, and he filed it in his official report on MHI." Torres shrugged. He was feeling smug. "Just another thing I was able to pass on to the Order."

The monitor that covered the front gate showed movement also. A semi pulling a huge cargo trailer rolled to a halt, then another parked beside it, and another pulled up behind. The drivers got out and moved to open the rear doors. More trucks were pulling up behind. You could pack a lot of dead stuff into that many trailers.

"With your shield gone, a veritable ocean of the righteous dead will flood this place. Once the Hunters are gone, I'll deliver you personally to my Master."

"What about me?" Grant asked.

Torres scowled. "You? I just wanted to gloat for a minute. Might as well pop you now." He moved the gun back toward Grant. "All that I'm going to ask is that I'll be the one to animate your corpse afterward."

Grant gave Torres a bloody smile. "Good thing I texted Franks when I found Pitt."

Grant had been holding his phone when I had spotted him.

Torres' eyes flicked to the door just as it exploded inward. He opened fire. The flash-bang grenade went off a split second later.

My eyes were scalded with light and my ears rang with a deafening screech. Head swimming, I struggled to my feet. I had to reach Torres. I misjudged and crashed into the wall. A strong hand grabbed my neck and shoved me out of the way. I tripped over Herzog's corpse and went to my knees.

A moment later I could see again. Bright purple ghosts floated across my corneas, but I could at least tell what was going on. Torres was face down on the floor. Franks was kneeling on his back, handcuffing him. Archer stood in the doorway with a Sig 229 pointed at Torres' head.

Then I could hear. Torres was screaming, thrashing. "The High Priest is coming! His legions are coming! You can't stop him! It's the dark new dawn! Do you hear me?"

Franks jerked Torres to his feet. He towered over his prisoner. "Yeah. I hear you." Then he slammed his giant fist into the side of Torres' head with a brutal hook. The cultist collapsed, unconscious. "So shut up."

I got unsteadily to my feet. "Where's the alarm button?"

Franks pointed at Torres' limp form. "Get him out of here." Archer looked confused. "I'll explain later. Contact Myers. Tell him we got the spy." Franks glanced down at Grant. "Nice work, Agent Jefferson." He was smug, mission completed, no idea what was coming our way fast.

There was a large red button on the control desk. I mashed it repeatedly. Nothing happened. I looked under the desk. The wires had been torn out. I swore.

Franks' blunt features were perplexed. "What?"

Grant had gotten unsteadily to his feet. He pointed at the monitors. "The Condition's attacking!"

The acolytes had pulled up a hidden hatch near the barracks and were entering the tunnels. The view of the front gate showed the trucks and the movement of some vast beast tottering down the trailers' ramps. On the cafeteria camera, Earl finished speaking. He was stepping down. Esmeralda was taking his place. Someone stood in the audience, back toward the camera, a gun extended forward. It was utterly silent. Earl jerked as a hail of bullets tore into him. There was a loud noise down the hallway as something exploded.

The power went out.

Chapter 15

A brilliant flashlight beam clicked on. Franks flashed it around the room.

"Status?"

"Commando team is trying to destroy our ward stone. And when they do there's at least four truckloads of undead waiting to charge in." I pulled out my own Streamlight and shined it around the room. I spotted my compact STI.45 and picked it up. "We've got to protect that ward."

Grant, stumbling from the beating, retrieved Torres' suppressed HK and looted some extra mags from the unconscious traitor. That's right, I had tossed Grant's gun down the hallway. Franks was a hulking shadow behind his light. "Archer, request reinforcements. Jefferson, call the Shacklefords and warn them what's coming."

Archer came back immediately. "I've got nothing."

"No signal," Grant said. The Condition was jamming us somehow. This was a full-on assault. Hood had set it up perfectly. He must have been planning this forever. Like Holly had said, this was a chess game to him.

"You know where the ward stone's at?" I asked. Grant had been around longer than I had.

"No idea," he answered. I shined my flashlight on him. He was bleeding from his nose and one eye was swollen shut. I had really clocked him. Served him right, just not for the reasons I had imagined. If we lived through this, I was going to find out why Grant had turned snitch and then I was going to beat him to death.

"The bad guys were heading into the tunnels by the barracks. Earl said that the stone was centrally located," I said.

"Probably in the middle of the property," he responded. The main building was toward the front. We had some ground to cover.

The compound was connected to the regular electrical lines. Those must have been cut by whatever that explosion was, probably set by the doppelganger. But we had our own backup generators in the basement. I could hear them begin to whine from down the hall. They were up and running within a minute. The lights came back on.

The cultists were in the tunnels. Luckily Earl had given me a brief tour. "I know about an entrance to the tunnels. We're close. We can intercept them. We've got to hurry." I started from the room.

"Wait," Franks said as he blocked the exit. "I'll handle this. My mission is still to keep you safe."

"No, you lied. Your mission was to capture your traitor." I pointed at Torres' unconscious form. "Now get the hell out of my way."

"You were both part of my mission."

"You son of a bitch…" He had brought a murderer right into my house, and put all of us at risk, just to accomplish his mission. Unfortunately, I couldn't even afford the luxury of being angry. There was work to be done. "We're out of time."

He contemplated that just for a second. After all, with the warding down, we were probably all going to die anyway. "Fine. Let's go. Archer, warn the Hunters. Find a way to contact Myers."

"Yes, sir!" Archer shouted, whipping out a pair of handcuffs and securing one of Torres' already cuffed wrists to the heavy desk. Then the efficient agent sprinted from the room, shouting back at us. "I'll get help."

Franks raised his Glock 10mm. He was wearing a suit, and other than what he had stashed in his pockets, probably didn't have a lot of extra firepower. All I had was my compact pistol, two extra 10-round mags, and a Spyderco folding knife. The rest of my gear was upstairs, fat lot of good that did me right now. Grant had Torres' piece, but at least he was wearing armor. So it was up to a brute, a snitch, and me, armed only with handguns, to defeat a commando force of heavily armed and amped-up cultists. I led the way toward the tunnels. "Hurry."

We reached the storage closet that Earl had showed me. The door was locked. I kicked it open. My ankle was really burning now. Shoving the shelf of cleaning supplies aside, I realized that there was no way I was going to batter this massive door open. The padlock hanging from the massive latch was a serious piece of steel. "Crap! I can't open it."

"Move," Franks ordered as he shoved past me.

"Well, that was stupid," Grant said.

"Shut it, you rat."

"You have no idea what you're talking about it, so shove it," Grant returned. "I saved your life."

"I can't believe you're a Fed. You lied to us all."

"I've got my reasons," Grant replied as he took a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped the blood from his forehead. "I told you the truth earlier. You think this is all about you? The world doesn't revolve around you, Pitt."

Maybe Grant just brought out the worst in me, but I wasn't in the mood to listen to his crap. "Well, yeah, it does. So screw you."

Franks studied the big lock for a moment. Maybe he was planning on shooting it. Realistically, as solid as that chunk of steel was, we were going to run out of ammo and die from ricochets long before we broke it. Franks put his gloved hands around the lock, braced one big foot against the door and pulled with all his might. He roared as the metal bent, tore, then broke free. He fell back. Whatever the hell Franks really was, he sure was handy to have around.

Franks tossed the broken lock on the ground. He cracked his knuckles. "Go."

I pulled out my flashlight as we entered the tunnel. I remembered how to get to the intersection, but the only other time I had been down here, I had gone in the opposite direction than we needed to go. But rough estimation should get us toward the barracks.

The tunnels were cold, and without Earl to lead me, they felt strangely eerie. I set off in the direction of the barracks. Running with pistol in one hand, light in the other, I almost missed the turn. Franks collided with me. I picked the direction that seemed correct.

"Booby-trapped?" Franks asked.

"Uh…I don't actually know." Earl had never mentioned it, but all things considered, that seemed like a definite possibility.

"They should be. Stay behind me." Franks took the lead. He raised his light and scanned ahead. The big man took off at a run. It was a struggle to keep up. Franks was fast. I followed the bobbing light. It paused as he came to another branch. I guessed approximately where we were and shouted for him to keep to the left. Franks disappeared again.

"Damn, he's quick," I gasped. "What the hell is he?"

"I don't know either," Grant answered. "That was classified."

"Well, you're about useless."

We had to be getting close now. Suddenly the tunnel ahead of us was plunged into darkness. Franks had killed his flashlight. There had to be a reason, so I did the same. My eyes were not adjusted to the dark at all, so I placed my hand against the cold wall and shuffled forward blindly. My heart was pounding. I could hear Grant breathing hard behind me.

Something large and warm bumped into me. I almost shot him. "Suppressed weapon," Franks whispered. There was some shuffling as Grant handed off Torres' gun. "Count to thirty, then follow."

I counted. I got to twenty-five before I heard a pair of thumps that could only be the silenced.45. I moved forward.

The tunnel curved, and my boots collided with a large soft object. I knelt down. My hands landed in something sticky and hot. Blood. In utter darkness, I felt around. The body was wearing a tac vest covered with MOLLE pouches full of equipment. My fingers landed on lips and teeth. Goggles. The man had been wearing night vision goggles. I tore the device off his head and held it up to my eyes. The world was immediately bathed in a brilliant green glow. I flinched as I realized Franks was squatting a few feet ahead, looking right at me. Alien and terrifying in the unnatural light, his eyes glowed. He held up one finger in front of his lips to indicate the need for silence. Apparently he could see in the dark too.

The Condition did not skimp. These were at least as good as the third generation monoculars that MHI issued. I pulled the strap and chinpiece over my head. It was absurdly tight, and immediately began to hurt my face and cut off the circulation to my throbbing scalp. But I have an enormous head, so what do you expect.

Grant bumped into me. I put my head next to his ear and whispered for him to stay here. The cultist had an Uzi subgun with a massive sound suppressor at his side. I pressed it against Grant to replace the HK. He clumsily found it in the dark and took it from me. The goggles cut down my field of vision so much that it was like looking through a toilet-paper tube. When I looked back up, Franks was gone. I followed.

I heard voices. "We've retrieved the stone, Mistress. The warding is down."

"Excellent, take it to the surface. The Shadow Lord wants it immediately."

We were too late. The voices were getting closer. I reached another intersection. How big was this place? Maybe if I could put the stupid thing back, it would turn the shield back on. I was drastically turned around by now, but I could clearly tell which direction the sound was coming from. Franks materialized through the pixilated glow. He held up both hands. Five fingers on one, three on the other. Eight men.

"Where's Harris?" Sound carried strangely down here, so I couldn't tell how far away the voice was.

"I sent him to cover that tunnel," the woman said.

"Wait…I smell his blood."

I rubbed my sticky fingers together. I had wandered right into the dead cultist's body. I was covered in his blood. But how could he smell it? Damn it. They weren't all normal…

"Hunters! They're here. I can smell them now. They're close. Let me transform and hunt them. Please?" The voice sounded eager, hungry. "Pretty please?"

"Be careful. I'll take the humans up to secure the stone. Kill them all, my love."

I saw Franks' pixilated face mouth the word werewolf. Of course. It couldn't ever be easy, could it? I hoisted my STI and gave him a thumbs-up. Silver bullets. Franks pointed at me, then pointed down one passage. I nodded and proceeded in the indicated direction. Franks disappeared down the other.

I hate werewolves. Werewolves are what got me involved in this business to begin with. I'm scared shitless of werewolves. But there was no time for fear. I could dwell on the absolute bowel-clenching terror of trying to take on a ball of razor claws and fury in this enclosed space, or I could man up and go kill him. Less than a minute later a howl reverberated through the tunnel.

That transformation had been quick. This wasn't some wimpy young werewolf like the one that had almost ended my life. But even tough lycanthropes weren't immune to silver. That thought immediately made me think of Earl. If he had been hit with MHI-issued ammo, he might already be dead.

I kept swinging my head back and forth in wide arcs, scanning through the narrow field of view, gun trembling in my hands, waiting for the cultist-wolf to appear. When he did, it was unbelievably fast. One second the tunnel was open, the next, something was in front of me, a massive, hairy shape, with eyes glowing over a gaping maw full of teeth. The tritium night sights on my little pistol glowed like road flares in the night vision. I jerked the trigger twice.

The noise was brutal in the confined space. Smoke floated in front of the lens. The werewolf was gone. I'd missed.

Damn, he's fast.

The tunnel walls seemed to press in around me. I moved forward, gun up. If he reappeared, I wouldn't have much time to put him down. I had to incapacitate him quickly, because if he got in range, I knew that he'd tear right through my unarmored vitals.

Waiting, I covered the corner. He had to come through here. If I rounded the edge, he could be right there. I listened for breathing, but my ears were still ringing. I didn't have time for this. If the cultists got away with that stone, we were going to be up to our ears in dead things. They were probably already swarming over the fence. Crap. I surged forward, pistol raised. The hall was empty.

I ran in the direction that I thought the voices had come from. The werewolf was still out there somewhere in the darkness, but I had to reach that stone first. My enhanced vision revealed a larger open space ahead of me. I came up on the corner ready to shoot, but there was no movement.

There was a big steel portal in this room. It was an old-fashioned vault door with a giant spinning wheel in the center. There was a perfect circle cut through the side of the door. I touched the edge. Several inches of steel had been cleanly sheared. It was cool to the touch. They had used some sort of magic to bypass Earl's security, and judging from the shape, it was probably another one of those magic ropes. Inside the room was a concrete pillar, looking almost like a speaker's podium, but with an empty indentation in the center about the size of a softball.

There was a scraping noise behind me, claws on rock. I spun, but couldn't see anything. Stupid werewolf's stalking me. Well, let him come. One of us would be faster than the other. It was that simple. I ran after the cultists. This tunnel was trending upward, but we seemed to be circling back toward where I had left Grant. I was so lost.

Scritch.

I spun on the ball of my foot, gun punching out. A black shape barreled toward me, eyes glowing like green balls of fire, saliva flying from rows of teeth. I fired.

We collided, slamming me painfully down. There was a flash of heat and fur rubbed across my face. I rolled over, gun tucked in tight against my body. My goggles had been knocked askew. I couldn't see anything. Something moved before me. There was a tearing of wind, and claws ripped four lines through my shirt. I opened fire.

A shriek of pain. I'd got him! The last shots in my pistol were gone in a split second, my slide locked back empty. I automatically dropped the mag and jerked another one from my belt, slamming it home and chambering a round. Claws scratched and I cranked off ten more shots in that direction, as fast as I could pull the trigger, muzzle blast creating a strobe effect as the shape rolled away from me.

It was quiet except for my breathing. Adrenaline was pounding through my system. I reached up with my shaking left hand and jerked the goggles back into place.

Agent Franks towered over me. I jumped. He had the suppressed HK in one hand. The werewolf was curled into a fetal position between us, a bristling mass of hair and muscle. Air hissed from its perforated lung. I'd nailed the werewolf repeatedly. Franks raised the pistol and put a final round through the creature's skull, splattering the tunnel floor. Franks nodded. "You got him…" Then he pointed at his abdomen. "And me."

It was hard to tell through the night-vision, but there was a leaking hole low in his side. I’d shot Franks! "Oh, man, are you okay?"

He appeared to think about it as he stuck one finger in the entrance wound, not feeling any pain. "Bullet struck my pelvis below my vest. Glanced upward…Hmmm, hit a kidney. You owe me a new one. Come on." He turned and stalked after the cultists.

Now that was tough, even by Monster Hunter standards.

"I’m sorry!" I exclaimed as I stepped over the dead werewolf. I'd never shot anybody by accident before. It was humiliating. Even if it was a pretty intense situation, I was still supposed to be the master of this stuff. I shoved my final magazine into the smoking STI and followed Franks.

Twenty feet of tunnel later, there was a chattering of submachine-gun fire. I pressed myself against the carved stone, but it wasn't directed at us. It was coming from just ahead. Franks surged forward. I followed. Grant was kneeling at the corner, metal Uzi stock at his shoulder, firing blindly down the hall. He must have stumbled around totally in the dark until he had heard the cultists. There was a ladder leading up into the night. There was one body at the base, and another one dangling with an arm trapped through the rungs. Way to go, Grant.

Somebody stuck an arm down the hole and muzzle flashes sparked as they shot at us. Franks extend the HK and fired. There was a scream of a pain and a clatter as the man dropped his gun down the hole. Franks hit the ladder and began to climb. He jerked the dead cultist off and let him drop. "Grant, follow us. We're heading up!" I shouted.

"I'm blind, idiot!" he responded.

"Head toward the gunfire," I suggested as I started climbing. Franks was nearing the top. There was a sudden boom as something detonated above him. He fell a couple of rungs, and I cringed, waiting for him to land on me, but he caught himself with a grunt. The cultists had grenades. Franks growled in frustration, blood falling from him and splattering my upturned face as he shoved himself up and through the hole.

I was out a second later, a cloud of dust and smoke still hanging in the air from the explosion. I tore off the goggles. The sun had just gone down, but it was brilliantly bright compared to the stifling tunnels. Franks was already moving, firing the suppressed pistol through the swirling dust. It ran dry, and he dropped it, automatically drawing a Glock. I couldn't see what he was shooting at, but I took off after him.

It took me a moment to orient myself as the dust cleared. We were at the north corner of the barracks. I ran, subconsciously crouching over as bullets crashed through the dirt at my feet. Somebody was shooting at me! I hugged the wall behind Franks, safely around the corner. I'd never actually been in a gunfight before. It was certainly different than fighting monsters!

Franks nodded at me. "Five left."

I was gasping for breath. I glanced down at my gun. "I'm down to my last ten rounds."

"So shoot each one twice," Franks replied. He reached down and checked his side. Blood was drizzling out from under his suit and soaking his pant leg. "I've got to stop this."

"Sorry," I stammered. I had often dreamed of shooting Franks, just never by accident. He had lost his sunglasses and in that brief lull I noticed something strange under the lights of the barracks. His eyes had changed. They had always been dark, almost black, and one still was, but the other was light blue.

Franks caught me staring and turned his head away. He pointed at the door the cultists had entered. "They're covering that entry. Is there another way in?"

It took my brain a second to process the request. There were windows, and they slid open, but like everything at the compound, they were barred. I had lived in the barracks while I had undergone my Newbie training. Yeah, there was an entrance on both sides, and one in the middle to the rec room. I found myself nodding.

"Flank them," Franks ordered.

I didn't know at what point in time he had become in charge, but I had never actually fought human beings to the death before, so it seemed like a reasonable request. I moved quickly down the wall, but just as I did so, a massive fireball rose from the main building, highlighting strange, disjointed shadows scaling the walls. The undead were here. We were under siege.

The barracks was a very basic building. It was a prefab, shaped like a big H, with a row of sleeping quarters down both sides along a hallway, showers on the end, and the recreation room in the center. I paused outside the side door.

This was nuts. I shouldn't have been scared. I'd risked my life dozens of times now, but facing people was different. Well, they had at least one werewolf, so I guess I couldn't assume the rest of the cultists were human either. I had killed a man but I didn't really know if the reborn Machado counted. I checked my gun and took a deep breath. Screw it. Monster, human, whatever, put a bullet in the right place, and they all go down the same. People are just softer. The knob was cool under my hand as I pulled the door open.

Nothing moved in the hallway.

I moved slowly, setting each boot down carefully so as not to make too much noise. The doors to the Newbies' rooms were all open, everyone having cleaned out their stuff in preparation for getting the heck out of here. Luggage was stacked by each door. The walls had once been boring beige, but just about every inch had been covered by tacked-up posters, pictures, notes, Sharpie autographs, or even graffiti from years of new Hunters.

There was a noise-a crash as something fell over. There was movement in the room to the side. I raised my compact STI and covered the doorway.

A man stepped out, dressed entirely in black, wearing a balaclava and a pair of night-vision goggles pushed up on his forehead. He had the butt of an MP5 against his shoulder, muzzle down, as he swept into the hallway. They were clearing the building, probably getting ready to hole up and defend this place until the Condition secured the compound.

His eyes widened as he saw me five feet away, but it was too late to matter. The bullet passed cleanly through the cultist's face and he dropped in a spray of blood droplets.

"Contact!" someone screamed from the rec room. I leapt over the cultist's body and into the room he had just exited. Someone took the opportunity to fill the hallway with lead, emptying a magazine in a rapid buzz. Projectiles flew through the walls as I flung myself face down on the carpet. I rolled over and covered the doorway.

The gunfire stopped. I got to my knees and took the corner. Another black-clad cultist was crouched just inside the rec room. He was fumbling, trying to shove a magazine into his subgun. He was mostly hidden, but prefab walls are thin. Since I couldn't see his head and he was probably wearing armor anyway, I aimed low, and cranked off four rounds through the wall.

He bellowed in surprise and fell out of sight. I got up and moved to the back of the room. Sure enough, another cultist responded, tearing the space that I had been inhabiting into splinters. The bars of the window collided with my back. Terrible noises reverberated through the glass, audible even over the gunfire and the angry shouting of the injured cultist. An epic battle was being waged outside.

It was with some shock that I realized that this was my old room. Right there on the wall was my own autograph. ozp: combat accountant. I had been sitting on that bed right there when Trip had talked me out of giving up and quitting after I'd injured Green in training. My autograph disappeared as a bullet plowed through it. I hit the deck. These were high-powered rifle rounds, and they were zipping right through the walls like they were made of paper.

"Hold your fire!"

"I'll hold mine if you hold yours!" I shouted back.

It was a woman's voice, coming from the rec room. "I know that smell. We're supposed to take that one alive."

Great, another werewolf."No, wrong guess," I replied as I crawled across the floor of the tiny room. There had been a mirror on the wall. I was lying in broken glass. Hands trembling, I picked up a giant shard and angled it so I could see down the hallway. It was clear.

"Yes, it is Pitt. The Master retrieved some of your clothing when you escaped from him in Mexico. I know your scent well, Hunter."

"How many werewolves does your boss have anyway?" There was someone moving just inside the rec room, but I didn't think it was the speaker.

It took her a moment to respond to me. She was busy whispering orders to the remaining cultists. Where was Franks? I really could use a hand right now. But he was probably passed out from blood loss because I'd shot him in the kidney. The woman shouted back at me. "Just me and my mate, and since he's not rejoined us, I can only assume he's dead."

"Yep, I murdered the shit out of him."

She was quiet for a long time. When she spoke again, her voice was filled with fury. "Then that was a mistake. Kill him."

One of the other cultists piped in. "But the master said-"

"I said kill him!" the werewolf shrieked.

The reflection in the broken mirror revealed the cultist poking his head around the corner, barrel of a rifle just below. I threw myself into the hallway, front sight snapping into place instantaneously. I stroked the perfectly polished trigger to the rear, launching a 230-grain silver bullet, striking him in the throat. He didn't go down, so I shot him again, and again. He flopped backward in a heap, combat boots kicking stupidly into the air. I scrambled back into my old room before somebody else could jump out to shoot me.

There was more shooting from the rec room. Franks must be making his move. I got ready to charge. If I could hit the hall while they were distracted, I could pop the last few and get our ward back. I'd lost count, but I had a few shots left. Then I realized I was covered in blood, and with a panic began to look for holes. Wait. It's not mine…Awesome. I moved for the hall.

But the werewolf had come to me.

We almost collided. She was a short woman, appearing physically young, but with unnatural silver hair and eyes that were glowing an angry gold. I jerked my gun up, but her hand slammed into my forearm, blocking the shot. It was like getting hit with a pipe. The STI dropped from tingling fingertips. She moved insanely fast even in human form. A punch landed against my ribs, slamming hot pain through my entire body. She wrapped petite hands around my throat and crashed me into one side of the hallway, smashing me through boards and drywall, only to jerk me out, and sling me around into the other wall. She tossed me headfirst toward the rec room. "He was a good man!" she screamed in my ear. "A good man!"

I came off the floor. I was pissed. "Now he's a dead man, bitch." I slugged her in the face, my massive fist curling tight at the last possible instant. It was the kind of hit that I had used to knock gigantic brutes into unconsciousness. Her head snapped around, silver hair flying.

My hand stung from the impact. But she didn't go down. When she looked back, silver hair parted, revealing a mouth that was now full of impossible incisors. She snarled as she swiped her open hand at me. Fire lanced across my chest as her lengthening fingernails tore through my skin. I leapt back, more of the wild swings tearing at me. I was too slow, and she raked lines of blood down my left cheek.

Rage washed over me then and it was on. I caught her by the wrist and pulled her forward. I jerked my knee up and hit her in the stomach. She slashed me again in the side, but fury cleansed the pain. With her bent over, I grabbed the back of her head and shoved down as I brought my knee into her face. Some of those sharp teeth shattered as I hit her again. I was on her, launching a flurry of attacks, meaty blows hammering into her like I was beating a hundred-pound punching bag. She flailed back and I straight kicked her in the chest. Supernatural powers aside, I was three times her size and weight, and physics beats magic. The werewolf flew down the hall.

But she landed on her hands and knees, her head flying right back up. "Is that the best you got?" she snarled with an inhuman voice as bones crackled and twisted. She ripped open her tac vest with claws that were now long enough to eviscerate. Silver hair was growing from her skin. She screamed as her teeth extended past her tearing lips.

"Yeah, it was." I spun and ran for the rec room. I didn't know where my gun was and I could only pray that the cultists I had shot had silver bullets loaded, too. The werewolf shrieked and jerked as she continued her transformation.

I hadn't really thought about what to do with the remaining cultists though…

Two were covering the other entrance, shooting at something that I assumed was Franks. One of the men I had hit was lying flat on his back, dead. The other one was leaning against the pool table, trying to stop the bleeding from his legs, and judging from the puddle, he was losing badly. None of them saw me enter.

The dead one had an AK-47 next to him. Even if it wasn't loaded with silver, 7.62x39 ought to tear some serious holes in a werewolf. I reached down-

But the werewolf intercepted me first. My feet flew out from under me as she collided with the backs of my knees. I landed on my back. The injured cultist cried out when he saw her, still more human than beast, but distorting rapidly. Distracted by the noise and driven into a frenzy, she leapt on her associate and lit into him with unbelievable ferocity. Blood and entrails sprayed across the pool table. The two others guarding the door turned to see what was going on, and lurched upright in fear.

"Claudia, no!" cried one of them. This was the kind of fury that Earl had warned me about. Her face had extended into bloody jaws. Golden predator eyes locked on them and lurched forward.

Both of the cultists jerked as projectiles ripped into them through the doorway. Franks had used the lull to his advantage. The werewolf leapt on top of the nearest and sunk her teeth into his throat, taking them both down in a jumble of arterial spray. They crashed into the 56" flat-screen and tore it from the wall.

I slipped in the warm blood, trying to find traction to rise. The werewolf looked up from her victim, the part of her mind capable of rational thought surely remembering that I was the one who had killed her boyfriend. I slid toward the pool table, latched onto a handful of felt and pulled myself up. Grabbing one of the solid balls off the table, I cocked my arm back and launched it at her. It hit her in the snout. She yelped, and I immediately chucked another pool ball. This time I missed.

She slunk forward. I grabbed the only other weapon that was in reach, a pool cue. It looked so skinny and feeble, but it beat harsh language. I raised it overhead and brought it down with a bellow. It snapped in half.

The werewolf was not amused. She stood upright, and now with her warping bones, she was my height, but gangly and misshapen. I held out the broken haft, ready to stab. Frothy bubbles blew from her nostrils as she backed me into the corner. Her silver mane was streaked with red. She closed in, instinct demanding to rip me to bits.

"Bad werewolf," Franks said from the entrance. "Sit."

The werewolf swung her head to assess the interloper. I slammed the jagged end of the pool cue into her throat. It was like a blood explosion. She howled in sudden agony, claws flying to the wound. Franks raised his Glock and calmly put a single round of silver 10mm through her brain, ending the scream forever. She collapsed.

"Stay…" Franks walked up, assessed the body, then fired two more rounds into the corpse, just to be sure. "Good werewolf."

I was out of breath and covered in dripping blood. "Was that your idea of a joke?" He cocked his head to the side, inscrutable as ever. "Never mind. What took you so long?"

Grant answered that. He came running into the room, smoking Uzi in hand. "Help me barricade the door!"

"From what?" I asked.

Something gigantic roared outside. "That! Hurry!"

Franks got on one end of the pool table that had to weigh a ton, lifted it with a grunt and started dragging it across the floor. I threw my shoulder into the other side and shoved. Muscles straining, we got it next to the door, moved to one side, heaved, and tipped it over with a crash. We shoved it against the entrance.

The table shook as the giant beast collided with the doorway. The impact shook me to the bone. "What is that?" I shouted.

"I think it's a zombie bear," Grant said as he reloaded the Uzi, putting his shoulder against the table to help hold it.

Franks braced himself against the table. "Armored zombie bear," he corrected.

"I tried to shoot it in the brain, but it's got a helmet or something," Grant shouted. The creature crashed into the table again, sliding all three of us back a few inches. "A helmet! Who puts buckets on zombies' heads? That's not fair! Where's the ward?"

The werewolf had been the leader. I hurried from the table, slipping on the bloody tile. The silver-haired woman was facedown. Her clothing was hanging in tatters. I had no idea what the stone looked like, but I assumed it was substantial. There was a black satchel on the floor. I ripped it open and my hands landed on something hard and cold.

It looked like a perfect granite sphere, about the size of a Magic 8 Ball. I rolled it over in my hands and discovered that there was a row of archaic letters carved into it. It looked like gibberish.

"Make it go!" Grant shouted. The zombie bear was crashing rhythmically into the table. My companions were sliding back against the relentless hammering.

"Turn it on," Franks ordered. A massive limb erupted through the center of the table. It was hairless, pink exposed muscle, with steel spikes bolted onto the end of the paw in lieu of regular claws. The paw swung about, searching, then jerked back out when it didn't catch us. Franks poked the muzzle of his Glock through the hole and cranked off half a dozen rounds. "Turn it on now!"

I touched the letters. Somehow, they turned like a combination lock. The letters were old-fashioned and spelled nothing. I randomly swiped my fingers across them, and they spun, symbols magically materializing on the smooth stone, spelling more nonsense. "I don't know how!" Earl had said that it needed to be tuned for a location. The cultists must have moved the combination when they picked it up.

The zombie bear had a running start this time. This time the table blew right in half. Franks and Grant were sent sprawling. I dove for the AK-47.

The beast was gigantic, big as a friggin' cow, hairless and pink, corded muscles bulging, with bands of steel and spikes welded together across its body. It was already riddled with puckered bullet holes, but showed no indication that it even knew. The head was an armored monstrosity, battleship plates bolted together into an armored box, then laced in razor wire and scalpel blades.

It was blind.

Now inside, it shuffled forward, clumsy limbs tearing rusty holes in everything, a snorting noise echoing from inside the helmet as it smelled us. It couldn't bite, but we were sure to be crushed or cut to ribbons as it stupidly tried. I hoisted the AK, jerked it to my shoulder, and fired at the helmet. The gun was set on full-auto, and the 30-caliber bullets bounced off in sparks and fragments. The best way to take out zombies was to destroy the brain, and that didn't look like an option here, not to mention it was covered in blades and weighed a thousand pounds. Catching my scent, it lumbered at me.

Franks intercepted the bear. He had his fighting knife in one hand and a grenade in the other. He dodged under the swinging blades, cut a long gash between the monster's ribs, then slammed his fist through the gap, sinking clear up to his shoulder in organs. It dragged him along toward me. "Back," Franks ordered, jerking his gore-stained arm out of the hole with a disgusting squelching noise and falling away from the deadly legs. The grenade was gone. The zombie bear's roar reverberated inside the helmet. I sprinted down the hallway.

The explosion was muffled inside the bear carcass. When I opened my eyes, a red cloud filled the recreation room. It was literally raining meat. Bits and pieces fell from the ceiling with wet thumps.

We certainly wouldn't be using the rec room anytime soon. The armored zombie bear had been blown apart. The head and shoulders were filling the bullet-riddled doorway. The head was still moaning, but it didn't have any limbs to drive it. I kicked the box.

Franks stepped out of the blood cloud. He was entirely coated in a viscous red slime. He was terrifying to look at, but I'm sure I didn't look much better. "Jefferson, get weapons. Pitt, ward."

I tossed him the ball. He caught it with one hand. The noise from the compound indicated that there were more of these things out there, and MHI was responding with explosives, lots of explosives. Franks scowled as he studied the letters. Apparently he was as stumped as I was.

"Let's get to a more defensible position while we figure that thing out," I suggested, jerking my head back the way I had come.

Franks put the ward stone to his ear and shook it. "I hate puzzles."

Chapter 16

The most defensible rooms in the barracks were the bathrooms. There was only one entrance and no windows. If the cultists had grabbed this instead of the rec room, we wouldn't have been able to dislodge them. We took the women's instead of the men's because it was on the side away from the main building, where the undead seemed to be focusing their attention.

Franks held the ward stone in his big hands and studied it with one black eye and one blue eye, unblinking. The letters were not cooperating. Grant and I covered the doorway. Grant had picked up another Uzi. I had kept the AK-47 and stuffed magazines into every pocket until the weight threatened to pull down my cargo pants. I had found my pistol in the hall and returned it to its holster, but it only had a couple of shots left.

"Any luck?" I asked. Franks didn't answer, intent on the code. "What, they don't teach you this stuff at your fancy academy?"

"Shut up," Grant muttered.

"No, you shut up," I snapped. "I'm not done with you yet. We live through this and I'm going to beat your ass. The last one was just a warm-up."

"You sucker-punched me at gunpoint. Try me in a fair fight, and we'll see how tough you are," Grant responded. He was delusional if he thought that would make a difference. "Torres would already have turned you over to his church if it wasn't for me."

I turned back to the door. "Traitor," I muttered.

Grant was ticked. "You've got no clue. I joined MHI to make a difference. But MHI's all about making money, not about making the world a better place. Myers was just like me once, disillusioned by MHI. He gave me a chance to do something important. MHI let me down, not the other way around. I thought that I had failed you guys, but it was the organization that failed me."

"So you took Myers' job offer?"

"Yes, I did. Best decision I've ever made. He needed somebody who could get on the inside, help catch his spy, and if that didn't work out, at least he had someone undercover to keep an eye on MHI before they did anything really stupid. I got into this to help people. The Monster Control Bureau represent the real heroes. They do a dirty job to protect this country. MHI is just out to make a buck."

"Make a buck? That's right, that doesn't matter when you're born rich."

"Quiet," Franks ordered, tired of our bickering.

I glared at Grant, then went back to watching the entrance. He was a traitor, pure and simple. Myers had used me as bait to clean his own house, and now my friends were paying the price. When this was over, there were some accounts that needed settling.

My face hurt from where the werewolf had clawed me. Touching it indicated that the flesh was rent open in a few parallel strips down my cheek, and I was bleeding badly. Grant had the door covered while Franks fiddled with that stupid thing, so I made my way over to the sink and turned it on. The cold water burned.

Franks looked up from his task and saw me splashing the claw marks. "If you're infected, I'll have to-"

"Kill me? Yeah, I know. That's how we met, remember?"

Franks nodded and went back to the ward.

It was when I looked back in the mirror that I noticed something amiss in one of the stalls. The door was closed, but there was a shadow dangling just under it. Shutting the water off, I approached the stall. I used the muzzle of the AK to push it open.

"G-Nome?"

The gnome had been shoved in the toilet. He was so small that most of his body was squished into the water, and it was awfully pink. One boot was dangling down, and that was what I had seen. His red hat was crunched low on his head, and his white beard was smeared with blood. His breathing was rapid and shallow.

I knelt next to the toilet and removed his hat. His eyes fluttered open weakly. He was badly injured. " 'Sup, tall one," he sputtered.

I reached out and touched his hand. "What happened?"

Black lightning struck and the bathroom vanished.

This time was different than the others. It was the first time that I'd experienced a nonhuman's memories. The thoughts were subtly alien, and it took a moment for my brain to adjust and it couldn't quite settle into the first person, rather I was a spectator in G-Nome's head. He had confided in me Grant's treachery, and he'd left me, confused by how such a physically tough human, a man-mountain of ass-kicking, could be crying and moping like a baby. No self-respecting gnome badass would ever let his homies see him cry. Tall humans were so weird. He knew it came from all of that banging their heads on doorways and ceiling fans and shit.

G-Nome had heard the shower turn on in the girls' bathroom, and though he enjoyed spying on human girls as much as the next gnome, he was excited to watch the Tall One shoot the Snitch. He was from Birmingham, so he'd seen plenty of humans shoot each other, and that never got old. But when he caught the smell of killing on the air, he knew something wasn't right. Suspicious, he'd left the tall human to his business and ported through the wall.

The shower was on when he popped into the bathroom. G-Nome held extra still so the invisibility would hold. He knew from experience that humans freaked out when they caught you looking at them. He could smell which human it was immediately. There was something special about this one. He'd seen her around the compound, and she'd stuck out for some reason, even for a human. It was that younger human hottie, with the redneck accent…Dawn. He’d overheard that she was a human beauty queen, and he could see why-that human was smokin'. Momma had warned him about the dangers of human women, what with their tallness and lack of facial hair.

G-Nome noticed Dawn's discarded clothes and he was reminded of the death smell that had gotten his attention to begin with. They were piled up at the foot of the shower, and they were all messy. She'd been splashed with blood. He got closer and checked them out. The red was in splatters, like she'd slaughtered a pig or something.

Now that didn't make no sense. That red beard, Milo, wasn't having anybody do any work with bodies and guts today. And it was the day of the Hunters' big ceremony. So why was Dawn here, covered in blood, and not in the big building with everybody else? She had been up to something.

G-Nome was known as the sharpest gnome on the North Side for a reason, and he knew right away that something was up. He snuck over real quiet and picked up her shirt. He sniffed it. The smell told him that it had come from one of the other new humans, but he couldn't remember the dude's name. G-Nome didn't know how much blood was inside a normal human, but if this much got spilled at one time, he was probably dead. He had to tell Harbinger.

The shower turned off. G-Nome dropped the shirt and padded quickly to the corner. He was extra careful to stay still so the invisibility would hold. Dawn stepped out of the shower.

The sight was enough to take his mind off the murder. Aw hells yeah, baby… She had the longest legs of any human he'd ever seen. G-Nome knew he better be paying attention now that he knew some weird shit was going down. She didn't bother to cover herself or dry off. Instead she picked up the clothes and stuffed them into the garbage. Then she stopped and lifted her pretty face to smell the air…He'd never seen a human do it like that before. Humans had terrible noses. G-Nome thought about just porting through the wall and getting the hell out of here, but he was too curious. Dawn's nostrils flared. She spun around, wet hair flying around her shoulders and she stared right at him.

How could she see him? Humans couldn't see gnomes when they were still.

Dawn blinked and then her eyes were solid, colorless, clear as ice cubes. "Tomte," she hissed, and her voice was all wrong, low and scary, and she used the old word for gnome. It took him a second to realize that he was dealing with a Fey and another second to realize that it was the worst kind of Fey of all.

"Doppelganger!" G-Nome sputtered as he reached for the gun in his waistband. But by then it was too late. The creature descended on him.

I jerked my hand away, a trail of black light drifted from his arm to my fingertips. It held for a moment, then drifted off like smoke. I could still feel the pressure of the shapeshifter's hands around my throat.

"Yeah, crazy, huh?" G-Nome smiled weakly. "That was whack…" He trailed off.

He was dead.

I pulled his sopping body out of the toilet and set him gently on the ground. He didn't weigh much.

"Where'd you get a gnome?" Franks asked.

I shook my head. "The Condition has a doppelganger here. That's what Torres was talking about."

"Who?" Grant asked.

"The girl from Texas, Dawn. She must have been on guard duty and killed that other Newbie, then she came back to clean up here and murdered G-Nome." I knew almost nothing about doppelgangers, except that they were some kind of rare shapeshifter. "Then she went back and shot Harbinger."

"So that's how you caught me." Grant muttered. "A gnome…"

"If the doppelganger got away, it could be anyone now," Franks said, not looking up from the ward stone. "I can't figure this out. You have to know the inventor's codes." There was a massive bang as something landed on our roof. Grant and I flinched and raised our weapons, but with a sudden tapping, the noise retreated. There were all sorts of undead out there. "Who could make it work?"

I shrugged. "Earl, of course." I didn't add if he's still alive. "Maybe Julie, or one of the older Hunters, but they're all at the main building. Let's get back there and find somebody." Apparently Franks agreed. He handed the ward to me. I stuffed it in the bag and hoisted the stolen AK. "Tunnels?"

Grant stood. "I don't really want to try the front door right now."

The compound was a war zone. A few hundred yards away the main building was under siege. Black shapes were clambering up the walls. Occasional explosions highlighted more dimly-visible things moving in a circle around the structure directed by robed figures. Muzzle flashes flew from every window on the top floor. Continuous streams of tracers rained from the roof into the surroundings and a few worked patterns across the night sky.

"What are they shooting at in the air?" Grant asked hesitantly.

The three of us were clustered, kneeling next to the opening into the tunnels. The ladder stretched into the darkness below us. "I don't know," I said quickly. This asshole was creative enough to animate bears, so who the hell knew what he had for air support.

Headquarters seemed to be holding its own. The heavy portcullis had been dropped over the front door. A mass of misshapen bodies was piling up at the entrance. Hammering and hacking could be heard even over the gunfire. Suddenly a brilliant streamer of fire ignited from the narrow windows above the door, as someone used a flamethrower to hose down the monsters at the gate. Flaming bodies stumbled about before collapsing.

The flamethrower revealed something else charging out of the darkness. A massive shape, big as a truck, plowed through the burning dead and collided with the gate. The crash echoed across the entire compound.

"What's that?" I hissed.

Four streams of tracers lit into the giant, followed by more fire, and what had to be a chain of 40mm grenade detonations. The now-burning beast backed up for another run. "Hmmm…zombie elephant," Franks answered thoughtfully. "Unless it's a dinosaur. Hard to tell with the armor."

So Hood had either murdered a zoo or he'd pulled a Jurassic Park, but either way, this was really bad. "Back door it is," I suggested, shining my flashlight down the ladder.

Two dozen white eyes blinked back at me.

"Shoggoth!" Franks bellowed. His palm struck me in the shoulder, knocking me aside. A black tentacle exploded from the hole, splitting the air where I had been standing. It snapped back into the dark with a bullwhip crack. Franks yanked another grenade from his damaged suit coat, pulled the pin, and tossed it down the hole. "Back."

I ran toward the barracks. I could hear Grant huffing along beside me. The grenade detonated, but rather than a boom, it was a hiss. Thermite. The shoggoth made an unbearable noise, a terrible distorted wail, like somebody had overloaded a bank of speakers by having an insane howler monkey attack the microphone. We clamped our hands over our ears. The noise faded away.

When I turned around, smoke was pouring from the hole. "Is it dead?"

Franks looked at me like I was stupid. Of course not. Harbinger had said that the warding kept out undead and transdimensional creatures, which apparently included the Condition's pet shoggoth. With the shield down, it must have burrowed right into our tunnels. "We've got to get back down there."

"No more grenades," he replied.

They were only vulnerable to fire. Now there was no way to get into the main building. "Damn it!" That thing would own us in the tunnels.

"Quiet!" Grant exclaimed, holding up his hand. Large wings batted above us in the night. The shoggoth's scream must have gotten its attention. The three of us ducked back under the overhanging roof of the barracks. The thing circled for a moment, each beat of the wings ponderous and slow. As the noise stopped, something landed on the roof above us with a crash of breaking shingles.

I held my breath. I was screwed. Monsters below us, monsters above us, monsters all around us. We were armed with a few stolen small arms and a magic rock that we didn't know how to work. We had nowhere to go, and my companions were a snitch and a psycho. Talk about bleak. Dust fell from the overhang as the winged monster above us shifted.

There was a flash from the opposite side of the compound. There was a violent impact overhead and whatever it was above us crashed into the roof. The mystery creature leapt upward, visible for just a moment as a gray mass, before two wings spread wide and it jerked straight up and out of sight, absurdly fast.

What was that? Grant mouthed, obviously afraid.

I shrugged, hell if I know, then pointed in the direction of the muzzle flash. It had come from Milo's workshop. Either Milo was at his shop and had sniped the thing, or somebody else had done us the favor. Either way, it beat sticking around while other things came to see if there was anything edible over here. Franks realized what I was thinking and nodded. There were a few terrain features we could use for cover between us and the shop, but there was a long expanse of open ground at the end. Sticking Milo clear out there made sense when he was playing with explosives and deadly chemicals, but didn't seem so clever right about now.

"Leapfrog," Franks stated. He pointed at Grant, "One," then at me, "two," then jerked his thumb at himself. "Three. Move."

If something spotted us, we were as good as dead. Grant took one quick look at the dark sky, then back at the fires leaping up around headquarters. Nothing seemed to be coming this way. His Adam's apple bobbed visibly as he swallowed hard, then he took off at a full sprint for the next building. It was a Tuff Shed we stored maintenance equipment in. He reached it, then spun around, jerking his head in every direction. He waved for me to come, then raised the Uzi and waited.

I leapt to my feet, moving as fast as I could. My blood was thundering in my ears as my big boots slammed into the gravel. I made it halfway before I heard the wings. Grant was looking right over me, eyes unbelievably wide, as he jerked the Uzi up and opened fire. I fell on my face, sliding across the dirt like I was trying to steal a base. The winged monster zipped past me in a blast of wind. Jerking my head up, I saw the wings spread as it soared upward again, giant three-toed talons trailing behind. I wanted nothing more than to lie here and try to hide, but that was suicidal. Clambering back up, I ran the rest of the way to the shed.

Grant was stammering. "Okay, walking dead, that's fine. Running dead, I can handle. But the flying dead? Hell with this. I quit."

I gasped for breath. "Too late. You're fired." Franks had seen what had happened to me, but went for it anyway. He moved unbelievably fast for such a big dude, arms and legs pumping like an Olympian. "Here it comes," I said, as I caught sight of the flying monster banking around. It was trailing Franks now, high in the air. It tucked its wings in and plummeted like a missile right at him. The AK's iron sights were rudimentary at best, and I could barely see them in the dark, but I did my best, pumping round after round at the speeding target. We weren't going to stop it in time.

Franks must have known that. He suddenly stopped, throwing his weight back, skidding through the gravel as he turned, raising his own stolen AK one-handed and firing, a long strobe-effect burst of full-auto right into the creature. It flared its wings at the last moment, then Franks was simply gone, scooped right off the Earth and sucked into the sky.

They passed right over us, and the last thing I saw before they disappeared over the top of the shed was Franks crawling up the monster's legs and actually punching it in the face.

The land-based undead had heard the gunfire and shadows were moving in front of the flames, lumbering our way. Grant and I looked at each other, then at the direction Franks had gone. That was the direction we were heading anyway. Tactics were out the window, and now it was time to haul ass. Correction-speed is a tactic. "Run!" I shouted.

We cornered the building, moving fast for the relative safety of Milo's workshop. Grant is a lot lighter than I am, and even wearing his armor, he quickly left me in the dust. When you're getting chased by a zombie bear, I guess you don't need to be faster than the bear, just faster than your friends. I briefly contemplated shooting Grant in the leg.

Then I heard the beat of wings again. Damn it, not now. This time the beating seemed somehow lopsided and unbalanced. The gray shape appeared out of the sky ahead of us, ungainly, with one wing fluttering. A darker shape that could only be Franks was dangling from one side, slamming a fist repeatedly into the monster. It spiraled down, out of control, and crash-landed into some kudzu-coated trees.

I veered slightly off course, heading for the trees. The noises were clear. Somebody was administering a severe beating. The monster was on its back, Franks was astride its chest, raining hammer blows down on its mutant skull, beating the hell out of a creature that was approximately the size of a living-room couch.

One giant claw shoved Franks off and the creature sat up. It was a zombie, but a zombie of what I couldn't tell you. Its legs ended in raptor claws, but its upper body was that of a man. Leathery bat wings extended from each shoulder, one clearly crushed and broken by the fall. Its face was a skull now, but about the size of a five-gallon bucket and filled with teeth that looked like rusty nails. Blank eye sockets swiveled toward me.

It took me a couple of shots in the dark before the skull exploded into powdery fragments. It dropped.

Franks appeared. His breathing was ragged. "I hate flying coach."

"Man, you're a regular comedian tonight," I said as I jerked another magazine out of my pocket and reloaded. "We've got to keep going, more bears coming fast." But he didn't respond. When I glanced back, he was facedown into the kudzu. "Aw hell."

Grant had kept on running for the workshop and I could no longer spot him in the dark. I could, however, hear the undead getting closer. Franks weighed a ton. The smart thing to do was leave him here. It wasn't like I owed him any mercy. This whole thing was his and his stupid organization's fault.

I actually made it a couple of steps toward the workshop before I stopped. He wouldn't have left me. "ARRGHH! Stupid Fed. Stupid Franks." I scooped him up, got one arm over my shoulder, and shouted in his ear, "Move your ass!" His big head lolled to the side. He was unconscious. "Oh, it can never be easy. Never! Easy!" I heaved him into a fireman's carry. The kudzu vines dragged at my boots. The shuffling, metallic snorting of the undead was getting closer. Safety was still a hundred yards away. I kicked my feet through the thick plants and tripped and stumbled for safety.

I could see the workshop clearly now. Someone was moving in one of the windows, a long tube on their shoulder. I cleared the kudzu and could run again, slipping through the dirt, ankle throbbing with each step. A terrible noise came from the workshop and a streak of fire tore past. The trees behind us exploded. Rocket launcher. Oh, these monsters had picked the wrong place to mess with.

More rockets followed. Judging by the rate of fire, Grant had reached the workshop and was joining in. Milo had a ton of stuff stashed.

"Pitt!" A voice bellowed behind me. "I'm coming for you."

The Englishman.

I risked a glance back. A towering thing was making its way through the smoke and falling debris, each footfall shaking the very earth. It had been an elephant once, and a big one, a majestic beast, but now its ivory tusks were sheathed in iron, its head plated in steel, its bones wrapped in wire and Kevlar sheets. Riding on its back was my nemesis. He was no longer wearing simple clothing, but had dressed for the occasion with an ornate black robe, a golden pendant of his squid god on his chest. His rough features shifted under the shadows of his cloak.

"Hood," I spat.

He raised one hand, signaling a halt. The zombie elephant reared up on its hind legs, rising high into the air, blowing air through its dusty lungs like a damaged tuba. It came back down, forelegs slamming into the dirt with an impact that shifted the ground underfoot. "So you know my name…There's power in knowing one's name." There was another bear, and something that looked like it had been stitched together out of a German shepherd and a goat, and behind them were at least a dozen humanoid zombies, all in various states of augmentation. His troops began to fan out in a circle around me. "How did you find out?"

Franks was dead weight on my back. There was no way I was going to reach the workshop now, so I slowly lowered him to the ground. "Carlos Alhambra told me."

The shadow man nodded, unsurprised. "Killing him would have been smarter, but he deserved to suffer." There was another concussion from the workshop, but Hood merely waved his hand in the direction of the oncoming rocket. The darkness seemed to coalesce and solidify, and the warhead detonated harmlessly well short of us. "Destroy that nuisance," he ordered, and several of his minions immediately charged the workshop, scampering off through the swirling wall of black.

The wall blocked the lights of the workshop, but Milo's rocket fire had ignited the small copse of trees, and I had some flickering light to work with. But it was even dimmer than what I had in Mexico, and he had been virtually unstoppable there.

"You got what you came for. Let the others go and I'll come with you."

He laughed above me. "Oh, come on, mate. You had your chance to do it my way. I've squandered years of work for this moment. Do you have any idea how much time it takes to put together an army of the dead? I've been collecting corpses like some people collect stamps." He stroked the mottled, rotting back of the elephant. "But tonight has put quite a dent in my collection. So, no, I'm going to see the heart torn out of MHI before I go."

"Where the hell do you get dead elephants anyway?" I asked.

"The internet," Hood responded. "Zoos, circuses, that sort of thing."

"Oh…" I still had the AK in one hand. He saw me thinking about it, and shook his head.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

"If you were me, I'd kill myself," I responded. "And you know…that's not a real bad idea…" I raised the hot muzzle and stuck it under my chin.

He stood on the back of his mount. "Wait!"

"Delivering me with half my head missing might piss off the Dread Overlord, don't you think?" I stuck my finger on the trigger. I wasn't bluffing. "Call off your army and I'll go with you. Otherwise I blow my brains out and you've got to break the news to your super oyster."

"Hold on," Franks whispered from the ground. He'd woken, and had reached into his suit, pulled out a flask, and was unscrewing the lid. Hell of a time for a drink…

Hood's voice was soothing. "You don't want to kill yourself. Suicides go to hell, you know."

"Oh, like you believe in hell," I muttered.

"Got me there, but we can still work this out. Alive is preferable, just for the amount of suffering that he can inflict on you, but dead? I could probably clean you up right well, if you leave me no other choice." He seemed to grow angrier the more he thought about it. "You think you can threaten me with your death? I'm a king of death! Look around you! Death is my servant! Death is my art!"

Franks put the flask to his lips and poured the contents down his throat. He grimaced in pain as if the liquid really burned going down. Some of it spilled out and dripped down his face. It glowed blue in the dark.

That got Hood's attention. "Well, well, well…Special Agent Franks, I'd almost forgotten about you. I see that you've some of the Elixir of Life. I always wondered how something like you managed to stick around for so very long. Personally, I'd thought that Herr Dippel had taken the formula to his grave. You really must give me that recipe." Franks dropped the flask and began to convulse in the dirt. Hood shook his head sadly. "Painful, and wasteful. You can't expect a dosage of the Elixir to save you now."

Franks was shaking badly as he struggled to his feet, using my belt for help. I kept the AK pointed at my brain. I could hear his body reacting to the potion. Franks' bones were popping. The veins in his face were pulsating. The shadow man was obviously surprised by this development. Franks smiled, teeth white in the dark. "One dose? Try five, asshole."

Hood paused. "Impossible…No flesh could withstand that level of purification."

"You've got to work up to it." My protector shrugged out of his coat and yanked off his clip-on tie, Glocks dangling on both sides from a double-shoulder holster. His shirt hung in a blood-soaked ruin. The firelight flickered across his body. The muscles in his neck throbbed and pulsed. He pulled off his strangler gloves and tossed them to the side, the bones in his hands cracking as he rolled them into fists.

His left hand had HATE tattooed across his knuckles…

The dead trucker in Montgomery had that same tattoo.

No. That was the dead trucker's tattoo…That was the dead trucker's arm.

My mouth fell open and I almost dropped the AK. Franks spoke quietly, "Primary mission. Protect Pitt from the Condition." He glanced over at me, one blue eye reflecting the firelight and nodded through gritted teeth. "I've never failed a mission."

Franks was built out of spare parts…

The shadow man, suddenly afraid, gestured at his undead. "Take them!"

The monsters surged forward. I jerked the AK down and opened fire. Franks crossed his arms, then whipped them outward, a Glock appearing in each hand, firing with terrifying accuracy right through the joints in the zombies' helmets. The elephant bellowed, stampeding forward, coaxed on by its master. Hood shouted a maniacal cry as the elephant bore down on us.

There was a blur of motion as something leapt through the air onto the elephant's back. Earl Harbinger landed directly behind Hood, dumping an entire magazine of.45 from his Tommy gun into his enemy's back. Hood's body rippled like water. The gun emptied in seconds, Earl Harbinger grabbed the shadow man by the robes and flung him from his perch. Hood fell hard in the dirt. Earl jumped after him, landing in a crouch. The elephant was heading right at me, and I dove aside, tree-trunk legs crashing past like thunder.

"You!" Hood spat from flat on the ground. The robes shifted as his flesh turned to molten shadows. They swirled and re-formed. Now he was standing. He calmly brushed the Alabama red clay from his fancy outfit. "So my assassin failed."

Harbinger stood. "Shot the hell out of me with silver bullets." He raised his arms, displaying his battered leather bomber jacket. "You should have told her to shoot me in the head. I don't just wear this coat 'cause it looks cool. This is one-hundred-percent-genuine minotaur hide." He thumped it for emphasis. "Bulletproof." Earl smiled his predatory grin. His eyes were glowing gold. "You're looking good, Marty, for a dead man."

Undead were swirling all around. The humanoids were wearing helmets of hardened steel, only their lower jaws open and chomping. I shoved my muzzle into an onrushing zombie's mouth. The jaws clamped down automatically and I fired, the bullet ricocheting around inside the bucket, pulping the skull to bits. A zombie bear intercepted Franks, knocking him to the ground, slicing him about between the razor sharp legs. The Fed, unperturbed, jammed his guns into the intersection of the bear's protected head and body and severed the neck with a slew of 10mm rounds. The bear collapsed, crushing him beneath.

Hood and Harbinger were circling each other. The Condition's high priest was speaking. "A dead man, Earl? On the contrary, I've never been more alive." He waved one hand, and it warped into a foot-long shadow blade. His other hand twisted into a three-fingered claw, wide as a shovel head.

"I'll have to remedy that," my boss replied. "I'll get it right this time."

"You destroyed my old body. Rather admirably at that, but the spirit that was residing there came from this vessel. Think of it as trading up for a new model car." Hood swung the shadow blade and Harbinger ducked under it.

I kicked the legs out from under another zombie, slammed the AK under its chin, and blasted it. I moved to help free Franks, but with a bellow, he pushed the giant bear off him and heaved it aside. He sprang to his feet and slammed his fist through an approaching zombie's helmet. HATE came out clutching a handful of brain and the zombie dropped like a sack of potatoes. A goat-dog thing charged Franks, snapping at his legs, but he punted it across the clearing and into the burning trees.

"I'm invulnerable in the dark, and this little fire isn't nearly enough," Hood stated proudly as he swung his blade hand. Harbinger bounded over it, flying through the air at his foe, his own hand opened into a claw, swinging with a roar through the ornate robes. Earl rolled through the robes, crashing into the ground as all resistance gave way. He was up, bewildered at the empty fabric in his hands. A twelve-foot solid shadow rose behind him, and he screamed as a black spike was driven into his back.

"Earl!" I shouted.

"Stay back!" he ordered, bloody spittle flying from his mouth. Harbinger spun, tearing through the shape to no effect. One whipping tendril struck him across the abdomen, launching him back into the darkness. He hit the ground closer to the fire.

The shadow surged under the robes, the fabric rising into a man shape, and then settling into the form of Hood as he strode toward Harbinger. "You have no idea how much I've looked forward to this." I shot Hood square in the back of the head. The bullet zipped out his forehead. He paused, looking back at me slyly. "Patience. I'll be back for you."

Earl rose. He was shaking badly. There was a hole in his chest, and it gradually closed, pinching off a trail of blood. There was a loud series of booms from the main building, like the sound of launching fireworks. "This whole owning-the-night thing ain't fair," Earl said as he pointed at the sky. "And if you find yourself in a fair fight, your tactics suck."

The sky lit up with a brilliant fireball. It drifted slowly toward the Earth. Then there was another, and then several more, appearing in rapid succession. The compound visibly brightened as the parachute flares and star shells floated downward. The compound's mortars were filling the sky with burning phosphorus light.

"That's cheating, Earl." Hood smiled, seemingly eager for this fight.

Flickering shadows played across Earl's features as more shells rained from the sky. "My daddy always said that if you ain't cheating, you ain't trying hard enough."

Franks twisted the head off of the last zombie, and immediately began walking toward Hood. The shadow man paused between the two foes, glancing warily between them. The new illumination revealed that the zombie elephant was turning around, coming back for another pass.

Hood nodded slowly, determination hard on his craggy face. He studied the sky, watching the fireballs. "This won't be enough to save you." He wrapped his hand around his talisman. It glowed with a black lightning that was eerily familiar. He seemed to grow in size, density and darkness, like he was sucking energy from his surroundings. His voice was low and terrifying. "A bureaucrat's Frankenstein and the redneck Wolfman are no match for the Lord of the Shadows, High Priest of the Dread-"

"Shut up already," Franks said as he walked forward. Tendrils of blackness shot from Hood's hands, lashing into the Fed, knocking him easily aside. The ground swelled under Hood, like a rising bubble. The dirt ripped wide open, revealing a giant rolling slug of tar. Packets of reflecting eyes glared in every direction. The shoggoth had returned.

"Owen! Get the ward to Milo. He knows what to do!" Earl shouted as he ducked and dodged under waves of black energy. "Go!"

I did as I was told and ran for the workshop. It was our only hope. No matter how tough Earl and Franks were, I knew they couldn't defeat Hood and his minions. The roars and crashing intensified behind me. Gunfire and explosions continued to rock the main building as the bulk of the undead kept up their assault. I sprinted through the artificial wall of darkness, holding my breath like it was a poisonous vapor. I cleared the wall within a few steps, and there was the workshop. I leapt over numerous undead that had been blasted or scorched into pieces. "Milo! I need your help!"

Milo's head popped up on the roof from behind a stack of discarded LAW rocket tubes. "Owen, what's going on?" he shouted.

I reached into the satchel that was bouncing against my side and hoisted the stone above my head as I ran. "Activate this thing!"

"I'm on my way down," Milo exclaimed.

I started to lower the stone, but it disappeared from my hand in a blast of wind. The stone was gone! Jerking my head up in surprise, I was shocked to see one of the flying undead, the stone encircled in its talons, as it beat its mighty wings and gained altitude. I screamed in frustration.

BOOM!

The creature's leg exploded with a terrible impact. The entire talon fell, severed, still clutching the ball. Running, I caught it all in my outstretched hands. I looked up to see Grant on the rooftop, his head poking up from behind the scope of a Barrett M82A1.50 caliber. "Move your slow ass, Pitt!" he shouted.

The roll-up garage door was closed. The man-door next to it flew open, and Milo was there, holding a giant flamethrower that had the burninatorand a cartoon dragon painted on it. "Let me see it," he cried as he shrugged out of the flamethrower straps.

BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM!

Grant had opened fire on something. I turned to see the zombie elephant come swirling through the black wall like an undead freight train, lumbering right at the workshop. I slammed the ball, severed talon and all, into Milo's outstretched arms, and pushed through the door. I closed it behind me and, for some unknown reason, threw the dead bolt. Milo gave me a look that indicated the idiocy of what I had just done, then he snapped out of it, and started swiping his hands over the numbers.

"Hurry," I suggested.

"You think?" he responded, beady eyes intent behind his glasses. "Oh, it's been a long time."

I began looking for something that could stop a zombie elephant. There had to be something. I paused in front of Milo's giant wall of weapons. What gun for armored zombie elephant? Man, what kind of messed-up job do you have to ask yourself that kind of question? Then I had my answer, sitting right in front of me on a giant wheeled tripod. I grabbed the handles of the device and began to push the heavy weight across the linoleum. "Is this loaded?"

"Of course," he responded absently. Milo stood in the center of the room, studying the ward intently. "The ward is like a puzzle, but with coordinates based on ley lines, and the letters are substitutes, but the hard part is that it's in German…Now what was that-"

The roll-up door collapsed as the pachyderm from Hades rammed its way through. Milo looked up in time to see the looming threat bearing down on him, 15,000 pounds of undead fury. I cranked the mighty harpoon gun toward the beast, grabbed the trigger, every bit of the circular sight filled with gray rotting flesh, and pulled.

Leviathan discharged. The concussion of the harpoon gun actually lifted me off the floor. Driven by a mighty charge of gunpowder, the six-foot, machined-steel spear drove right through the armored bucket of the monster's head, a roll of cable unspooling through its entire body and out its backside. The beast jerked as the harpoon embedded itself in a steel support pylon. The huge weight dropped instantly, cable pulling right through the decaying flesh, and it fell to the side, taking down row after row of shelves in a mighty crash.

I picked myself up from the floor. The room was filled with smoke from the gun's charge. I coughed. "Milo?"

No response.

The elephant's head had been torn off, rotting neck no match for gravity, and was dangling like a piñata on the taut cable. The body was on its side, limp, storage shelves crushed beneath it. Right where Milo had been standing-

He was under it! I ran over to the monster, trying to figure out some way to get under the body. If he was between the metal shelves, he might still be alive. There was no way I could reach him. I needed something to pry up an edge of meat. "Hang on, buddy! I'm coming for you." I spotted a crowbar, and started to work it under one leg.

Then I heard a strange noise, muffled beneath the corpse. Like somebody was trying to start a lawnmower, or a weed whacker, or…

A chainsaw.

I automatically stepped back as the powerful device caught with a roar. There was a terrible racket as Milo attacked the elephant from underneath. Thirty seconds later the chainsaw erupted out the elephant's flank, spraying fluids, and a disgustingly coated Milo came crawling out from the stomach. He took a mighty gasp of air as his head pushed through the skin. He killed the chainsaw and tossed it. I grabbed him by the hand and tried to pull. Milo pushed me back, reached deep inside the guts, and pulled out the ward stone.

"You okay?"

"Shush!" he sputtered through a face full of rotting elephant blubber. His fingers flew across the stone. There was movement at the torn-open door. I glanced over to see more undead coming. A winged beast landed right in the entrance, hopping forward on its one remaining leg. This was it.

"Bingo."

Milo moved the last letter into place. A visible shockwave traveled outward from the stone. The air bent in a violent oval. It washed across my body, but I felt nothing. The wave hit the undead and they simply exploded, flesh parting, bones and sinews flying like shrapnel. The wave expanded outward, surging across the compound, a tsunami of destruction, obliterating undead on impact.

There was a terrible wail, a scorching-evil distorted cry, like when we hit the shoggoth with thermite, only far worse. The shoggoth fled before the wave, screaming in pain the entire way.

That left just one thing…

Milo tumbled out the elephant, sliding in a pile of squishy entrails. "Ew…this is karmic payback for making Newbies do the Gut Crawl, that's what this is."

I picked up the discarded flamethrower, hoisting the heavy pack onto my back. A thick tube led from the pressurized napalm pack to the heavy-duty nozzle gun labeled the burninator. Its operation seemed pretty self-explanatory. I snagged a portable spotlight with my other hand and headed for the exit. "Grab anything that makes light and follow me."

The star shells were slinking across the sky. The noise of the battle was tapering off, gunfire and explosions ceasing as the undead on the outer edge of the ward's area of effect were driven off and their cultist handlers retreated. The wall of artificial darkness was still standing and I ran straight through it, heedless of danger. I tripped over a dismembered zombie and fell, sprawling over more bodies. Struggling upright with the heavy flamethrower in one hand, I turned on the brilliant spotlight and shined it outward.

Franks was on his hands and knees directly before me, lacerated, torn, holding one hand to his abdomen. He was coughing blood. It shone red and frothy in the light. I shouted at him as I approached. He looked up, unable to speak, but pointed. I followed his finger with the beam of light. There was a mighty thing there in the shadows, two hulking hands clamped down on a seemingly tiny object. The thing was bent over, like it was devouring whatever it was holding. When the light struck, the giant shape was replaced with Hood's normal form. He was holding Earl's head in his hands. When Hood lifted his hand to shield his eyes, Earl fell over, limp.

I set the spotlight on the ground, still covering Hood, and hoisted the flamethrower. He had to step away from Earl before I could use the deadly Milo-designed weapon. "Come and get me, Hood! Bring it!"

He stepped away from Earl and walked toward me, using the sleeve of his robe to protect his sensitive eyes from the light. "You're a brave man, Pitt." He swung his hand downward and the spotlight exploded into shards of glass and plastic. His body was instantly replaced with the towering solid shadow. "It's over, though. Your protectors are finished."

He drew nearer, but I hesitated, I couldn't risk immolating Earl. Werewolves couldn't regenerate from fire. "What'd you do to him?" I demanded.

For the first time I thought I could make out facial features on the shadow blob's head. Hood was smiling. "I'm assuming since you spoke to Carlos, you met the little imp I put in his head? Well, the thing that I just set loose in Earl's mind is much, much worse. Serves him right." Franks surged to his feet, charging past me with a roar. Hood swatted him down, brutally hard. "And as for you…" Franks hit the ground, and the shadow man paused long enough to kick him in the ribs, launching him across the clearing. "I have dominion over everything without a soul. I don't know how you're managing to resist my commands, but I'm going to drag you home and dissect you until I figure it out."

Unable to wait any longer, I pulled the Burninator's dual triggers. The first one ignited a pilot light while the second opened a valve of pressurized napalm. A wave of intense heat washed over me, singeing the hair from my arms. The fire lanced out in a fifty-foot beam, exploding right into the hulking shade.

Hood howled in rage, the shadow shape shrinking into a human form in the firelight. He extended both hands, palms open toward me. The fire seemed to wash over him, around him, but didn't burn him to a crisp. He grimaced as black energy crackled from his squid amulet, down his arms, and out his hands. The energy collided with the fire, pushing it back. Sparkling bits of napalm fountained into the air, hissing and burning as they fell to earth.

I kept the triggers mashed down, but I could see the wall of flame being pushed back toward me. The heat rose. The moisture was torn from my skin. I gritted my teeth as it began to cook my flesh and burn my clothing. Milo's flamethrower was no match for Hood's magic. The heat was unbearable. I couldn't breathe. The black magic was pushing the fires ever closer, and finally with a scream of heat-exhausted frustration, I was forced to release the twin triggers. I collapsed to my knees. The shadow shape loomed overhead.

Then the world exploded in light and eye-searing agony and an ear-rending screech. Hood screamed with real pain. I was instantly blinded. It was like somebody had driven ice picks through my eye sockets. It was so bright that it threatened to overload my brain. "Owen, get down," Milo ordered. I was too stunned to comply. Hands hit my back and shoved, slamming my face into the cooler dirt. "Secret weapon time!" Milo shouted. I covered my head as the intense flashing barrage continued.

Thirty seconds later, the terrible noise stopped. I looked up, but all I could see were flashing lights and purple spots. Then some rectangular shape was looking down at me. It was a blank, faceless monster. Milo flipped back the welding mask and grabbed me by the arm. "Let's go!"

I could barely see. Hood was still shouting, the light having actually seared his shadow flesh. There were other sounds now, a chopper overhead, surely using a spotlight, and the voices of approaching Hunters.

The purple blotch that must have been Hood was moving, staggering about. "It's not over, Pitt!"

"You lose, Hood!" I bellowed.

"But even in defeat, my servants have secured your fate. I'll see you soon." There was a scrambling noise that ended in a pop as he used one of the magic portal ropes, and then he was gone.

I collapsed to my knees. "What's going on?"

Milo yelled in my ear. "My secret weapon!"

"I'm blind, not deaf, damn it."

"Sorry. I just made the world's biggest flash-bang. That was a whole bunch of magnesium and aluminum powder there! I didn't know if I had the mixture right either, but we didn't all blow up, so I guess I did. Come on." He helped me up. Stumbling, led by Milo's elephant-blood-covered hand, he led me away from the noise. He found a clear spot, and had me sit.

I could barely see my hands. "What's going on?"

It took him a moment. "Hunters are securing the area. The crazy shadow dude is gone. All the undead are blown up. Fed choppers overhead."

"Where's Earl?" I asked. Milo hesitated. "Milo? Where's Earl?"

"They're working on him, but…he's not moving."

I was still blind. "Take me to him!"

"You're not a medic. Let them do their thing," he said calmly. I reached out and grabbed his wrist, hard. "Ouch!"

"No time to explain. Get me over there quick, or he's going to die."

Milo might not have understood, but Hunters were flexible under pressure. He pulled me back the way we had come. I was starting to see shapes and color further away. There were a group of Hunters clustered over a still form.

"He's not responding," someone said. "Physical wounds are regenerating, but something's wrong. Temperature's dropping rapidly."

"Let me through," I said. "I can help."

"Z, what're you doing out here?" It was Holly. She sounded shocked to see me. "What happened to-"

I cut her off. "No time. This is like what happened to Carlos." Milo guided me closer. I knelt at Earl's side.

Holly understood. "Everybody step back," she ordered.

"What're you talking about?" a purple shape that sounded like Cooper asked.

"Z knows what he's doing," Holly said tersely. "You Newbies get ready in case something bad comes crawling out of Earl's head. And come with me, Coop, we've got a rat to catch."

I had no idea what she was talking about. I touched Earl's chest. His breathing was almost undetectable and he was utterly cold to the touch. Blood drizzled down my lacerated face and onto my open hand.

I have to save him.

Having no real clue what I was doing, I concentrated, trying to remember what I had felt before when I had activated the power. I could sense it. I could feel the alien presence. Hood had called it an imp, a demon. Whatever the hell it was, I had to figure out how to evict it, and fast.

The world blinked out of existence.

Chapter 17

My eyes no longer hurt. I couldn't feel the aches, injuries, or fatigue. I was standing on bright white sand while powerful waves crashed ashore at my feet. A brilliant blue ocean stretched for what seemed like forever. It was gorgeous, a veritable tropical paradise. For whatever reason, it really wasn't what I had pictured the inside of Harbinger's head to be like.

"What's going on?" Earl asked from behind me. I turned. He was standing there, looking pained and confused. Behind him was a black rock cliff, and atop it was a rough shack of some kind. "Marty knocked me out and now I'm here."

"We're inside your memories," I responded. "Hood put a demon inside your brain to devour them. We have to stop it before it kills you."

He didn't seem surprised, as if my explanation made perfect sense, flexible minds, and all that. "Did you get the ward activated?"

"Milo did, but why isn't it chasing this thing off?"

"Maybe it's safe as long as it's in somebody's head?" Earl shrugged. "You got any idea what you're doing?"

"No. The last time I did this, the monster killed the host, then animated the body and tried to eat Doctor Nelson. But if we attack it before you get too weak, we might be able to throw it out and step on it."

"Well, that sounds like a hell of a plan," Earl replied sarcastically. "Remember when I told you not to screw around with this Old Ones' magic bullshit?" I nodded. "Belay that order. Let's go kill this little fucker." He suddenly grimaced, raising his hands to his temple. "Oh damn. That hurts."

I looked around for a giant earwig. "Where is it? Show me."

"Near," Earl said through gritted teeth, glancing from side to side. "I know this place. It's attacking where I'm most vulnerable."

Obnoxious seagulls were wheeling overhead. "Where are we?"

"This island is where I learned to finally control the beast. This was my exile."

"Nice exile," I exclaimed.

"It wasn't my first choice," he muttered, swaying a little, as he put his face in his hands. "I can feel it…in my head…" The sky was darkening rapidly. I could no longer tell where the horizon ended, as it all turned to an ugly shade of purple, like a spreading bruise. Earl cried out and went to his knees. I moved to his side to help. He gasped and shoved me away. "No. This was where I became a man again…I came here, where there was no one to hurt. I can't let him have this."

Werewolves were normally borderline psychotics. Earl was an exception. He exercised unbelievable mental control over his state and had done so for the better part of a century. If you were an evil force intent on destroying his mind, you would go right for where he had learned that control. With that iron will broken, the demon would be sure to win.

"It's here," Earl growled.

A purple dome appeared, rising over the horizon, dwarfing the cliffs, the shack, then the sky, and finally the entire world. "You've got to be kidding." It was far bigger than Feeder had been. It made the other creature look like a pathetic bug by comparison. A single giant eye opened in the center of the dome. It blinked once, the lid slamming back and forth with a concussion like a hundred sonic booms. A shockwave traveled down the beach. The seagulls exploded.

The unspeakable entity of the Old Ones, summoned by Hood, and dumped into Earl Harbinger's skull to devour his mind addressed us solemnly. Greetings. I am Rok'hasna'wrath, reaper of souls, devourer of worlds.

The thought hit our minds like a battering ram.

"Aw hell," Earl muttered.

There was a terrible screeching noise as the creature said its master's true name. -ordered me to this world long ago to serve its mortal priesthood. The High Priest has commanded me to rend this mind to pulp. Already I can see that this is a strong mind, hardened through strife and honed in conflict. I shall consume your memories one by one, growing stronger with each victory. You will attempt to defeat me. I welcome this challenge. This will continue until your spirit departs this shell or the Dread Overlord's servant no longer requires my services and I return to my home plane. Only one of us can survive.

"Aw hell," Earl repeated himself. The sky began to spin violently, a maelstrom centered on this one place in his memory.

"How the hell are we supposed to fight that?" I shouted.

This is not your fight.

It was addressing me.

BEGONE.

A wave of force struck me, bludgeoning my consciousness. The world dimmed as the pressure increased. He was banishing me. In this realm, the thing was unstoppable. I could feel my connection slipping. "Earl! He's too strong. He's kicking me out!"

Harbinger nodded into the wind. "I've seen weirder." He turned to me, deadly serious. "I'll hold out as long as I can, but if he wins here, then the beast might end up in control. If I start to change and anyone else is in danger, shoot me. You have to find Hood and kill him to stop this."

I was sucked upward into the vortex.

Let the battle commence.

My hand burned as I took it from his chest. Earl was convulsing violently, icy sweat pouring from his face.

"What's going on?" somebody shouted in my ear.

"He's fighting…something," I responded. My eyes had recovered from Milo's lights sufficiently that I could see who I was talking to. Esmeralda was at my side, holding a large syringe. She was using it to pull some liquid out of a vial. "Wait, what're you doing?"

"Horse tranquilizer. If Earl transforms out here, we're all in danger." Her forehead had been bandaged and she appeared absolutely exhausted. "I've already lost too many kids tonight. We can't risk it. I have to knock him out."

"You can't." I put my bloody hand on hers. Esmeralda stared at me in disbelief, but she didn't plunge the needle in. "He has to be focused if he's going to have any chance at all. We have to get him back to his cell."

Esmeralda hesitated. She had ten times my experience. If I was wrong, and he started to turn, then we'd have to shoot him or risk all of our lives. "You better be right, Z. Let's get him out of here fast."

Hunters were scurrying in all directions, securing the compound. A hairy shape lumbered up to us, red eyes glowing. A giant red tongue flopped out as it panted. It was a warg. "Need ride?" Skippy asked from the giant wolf's back. The orc's goggled face swiveled to indicate the others behind him. "See dead things. Clan help."

"We've got to get him back to his cell," I said. Esmeralda and I lifted Earl's shaking body and put him over Skip's legs. The orc was fearless, despite the twitching man on his lap who might quickly turn into a ball of teeth, claws, and fury. "Do you know where that is?" Skippy nodded. The warg immediately launched itself forward, moving with unbelievable speed for the main building.

More warg riders were arriving. Esmeralda turned to me. "Owen, go with him. You need to get back right away."

I didn't know what she was talking about. "Why?"

"Julie was hurt during the attack."

My heart lurched into my throat. "How bad?"Oh no. Please no. I grabbed Esmeralda by the shoulders. I towered over the tiny woman. "What happened?"

She hesitated, not wanting to answer. "Just go. Hurry."

A second warg and rider padded up to us and stopped. I had never ridden a giant wolf before. The orc extended his hand. The beast tilted its head and examined me quizzically. Hell, I didn't even know how to ride a horse, and this thing had jaws that could bite the head off a cow, but I needed to get to Julie fast. I grabbed the orc's gloved hand. With my other hand I got a handful of fur and pulled myself onto the wolf's back. It yipped as my weight settled and then immediately took off at a run. I hugged my arm around the orc so hard that I probably cracked his ribs, but I was frightened that I was going to bounce off.

She's going to be fine. She's going to be fine. I kept repeating that mantra to myself, too scared to think. The ride was surprisingly smooth as the warg ran across the compound. Shocked Newbies raised their guns as we passed but the more experienced Hunters shouted them down. I kept my face pressed against the warg's fur the whole time. It smelled like coconut shampoo. We reached the main building in a matter of seconds.

I slid off and landed, wincing, on my injured ankle. Skippy was already pulling Harbinger off his warg. "Help Skip," he grumbled at the Hunters that came running down the steps. I recognized the shortest one as the team lead, VanZant. Two Newbies were behind him, obviously frightened by the snorting warg. "Take Harb Anger…safe place."

Skip knew right where to go and the Newbies took Earl's convulsing arms and legs and followed. I grabbed VanZant by his sleeve. "Where's Julie?"

He was a stocky man: the other team leads jokingly referred to him as the Hobbit. He was also a no-nonsense, former Army mortar man and a welterweight champion fighter. He seemed surprised to see me. "How'd you get…Never mind. You better come with me, Z," he responded, then hurried up the stairs. I followed him in a daze. The injured Hunters had been moved into the cafeteria. Those with medical training were tending to the worst hurt. Three female orcs had arrived and were lending their supernatural healing skills to the cause.

There were too many wounded, moaning…This was my fault, all my fault. "Where is she?" I asked.

"She was right here." He pointed at an empty spot on the floor. All that was there now was a bloody towel. "We were on the roof when one of those flyers attacked. I was setting up an 81mm and she was directing fire and then it was right on top of us. It clawed through her armor." He ran his fingers across his stomach quickly. "She was hit…bad. I carried her down here myself." He started to choke up. "There's no way she walked off."

I picked up the towel. It was sodden, dripping.

VanZant was an experienced Hunter. He knew a severe injury when he saw one. "Julie!" I shouted, panicking. But everyone else down here had their own concerns right now. The nearest Newbies were utterly shell-shocked and didn't even look up to see who was yelling. This assault had cost us dearly.

There was a tap on my shoulder. I turned and stared down into Gretchen's reflective shades. Her manner was inscrutable as usual, but she jerked her head for me to follow. I did so. She led me to the nearest women's bathroom and held the door open. I was confused. She nodded that this was where I was supposed to go.

I entered to the sound of running water. Julie's green armor vest was discarded on the floor. It was soaked in blood and there were three vertical slash marks on the front, each one an inch wide, right through the Kevlar.

"Julie?" I asked hesitantly, knees weak, voice trembling, as I stumbled around the corner.

She's alive!

Julie was standing in front of the sink, back toward me. Her head was down, long dark hair covering her face, and her hands were flat on the tile, as if holding herself up. She had taken her shirt off and was only wearing her bra. The tile around her was stained pink with blood.

She was sobbing.

"Are you okay?"

She lifted her head slowly. "I shouldn't be." My fiancée turned, lifting her head and revealing her tear-stained face. "Look." She pointed at her stomach. Julie had abs of steel. Currently those abs were pink from half-washed blood. There were three dark horizontal lines down her stomach, but other than that, she looked fine. There was no wound at all.

"I don't get it." I said quickly. "Esmeralda made it sound like you were dying. VanZant was freaked out."

"Look," she ordered again. Puzzled, I bent down. The three lines were black, like a smudge from a piece of charcoal. The skin around the lines was healthy. The lines looked…familiar.

"No way!" I leapt back in shock. "No way!"

She pulled her hair away from her neck. The line from last summer had more than doubled in size. Now it was a thick black streak. The tattooed man had saved her life with that gift but we didn't understand a thing about it. "I should be dead. I never saw it coming. The claws went right through me."

"This is impossible."

"Impossible?" Julie screamed. "I shoved my own guts back inside while they carried me away. Fifteen minutes ago I was disemboweled and now I'm fine." I went to put my hands on her shoulders, but she jerked back. "Don't touch me!"

"It's okay," I said soothingly.

"I don't know what I am!" she cried. Julie turned away, unconsciously touching her neck, then realizing what she was doing, snapped her hand down in disgust. With a shout of pure anger she slammed her fist into the mirror, shattering it. She realized what she'd done and stepped back, quivering, blood tricking down her knuckles. She stared at the fresh cut in terror, waiting for something awful to happen.

I stood there, useless, helpless. The pain seemed to calm her down. The blood just kept trickling from her hand. Nothing happened. It was just a normal cut. She slowly unclenched her fist and sighed. Her fingers were shaking badly as blood dribbled down them to splatter the tile.

"Oh, Owen, what's happening? What's inside of me?"

I couldn't answer that. I grabbed her and pulled her close. She struggled at first as I kept saying that it would be okay. Finally she relaxed and just sobbed into my chest. "It's all going to be okay."

But all I could think of was what Susan had told me in Mexico. You know that it'll eventually kill her, don't you? It's from the other side, where everything comes with a price. I stroked my filthy hand across her cheek. "Everything will be fine."

Finally she quit sobbing. Her voice cracked. My heart cracked. "I've got to get out there. They need me." I wanted nothing in the world more than to disagree with her, and tell her that she just needed to rest, but she was right. We did need her. She pushed away. "I need a shirt. Can't rally the troops like this…"

I pulled a bunch of paper towels from the dispenser and passed them to her. She took them and pressed them against her injured hand. It was then that she stopped to look at me. She seemed surprised. "What happened to your face?"

I hadn't looked at it yet, but I knew the silver-haired chick had cut me good. I could feel the flap of skin dangling wetly. I pushed it back into place and held it there with the rest of the paper towels. "Werewolf in the barracks clawed me."

"Barracks?" she asked, confused. "When? How'd you get there?"

"Franks, Grant, and I went after the ward stone," I explained.

Her brown eyes went hard behind her glasses. I'd seen that look before. The sadness, the shock, the fear, it was all gone, replaced with hard determination. Usually when Julie got that look, something was about to get killed. "Hand me my armor. We've got to go."

"Where?"

She threw the blood-soaked vest on, not even bothering to buckle it closed. "To have a talk with somebody." She pulled the door to the hall open. "You coming?"

We almost collided with a very excited Cooper entering the cafeteria. "Oh man," the young Hunter sputtered when he saw me. "I was supposed to find both of you. Holly says you need to come quick."

"Where?" Julie asked.

"Basement." He hoisted his FAL and ran. Julie was right behind him. I had no idea what was going on, but followed. Cooper was headed for the stairs. Several Hunters stopped to point at Julie, surprised to see her alive, let alone running through the halls. Everyone who tried to talk to her was dismissed with a wave. She was too focused on whatever it was that we were doing. We went down two stairs at a time and found Holly Newcastle waiting for us at the base.

"He went that way"-she pointed-"looking nonchalant."

"Heading for the tunnels probably, trying to get away," Julie replied. "Come on."

The four of us moved quickly. There was a massive hole punched in the wall next to the archives. Broken cinder blocks were scattered everywhere and piles of loose dirt had spilled onto the floor. "What happened?" I asked.

"The shoggoth dug right up to the basement. Then undead crashed through. They were under us, above us, and outside. It was nuts," Holly said. "Lee held them at this one. He wasn't going to let anything hurt his precious books. Trip stopped them at another breach by Earl's room. We tossed some explosives down each and collapsed the walls."

"And you were with the group that stopped the breach next to the control room," Julie said.

"What?" Then it hit me. "The doppelganger!"

"So that's what it is," she replied. "After Dawn stood up in the meeting and shot Earl, the lights went out, and she vanished in the confusion."

"Why would she take my form?"

"I intend to find that out right now," Julie responded as she jerked open the janitorial closet door. She held up one hand for the rest of us to stop. "Owen, honey, where are you going?"

I heard my own voice reply. "Oh, hey, Julie. I was just checking to make sure this door was secure. What's with the gun?"

"Don't move!" Julie shouted. "Take them both."

Cooper leapt through the door after her. I froze as a cold steel muzzle was jammed into the base of my neck. Holly's voice was totally calm. "Z, I'm pretty sure that you're the real you, so this is nothing personal, but if you so much as twitch, I'm going to blow your head off, got it?"

"Got it," I responded. I knew better than to argue with Holly, and I had taught her to shoot that.45 currently aimed at my medulla. Holly would not hesitate.

A large man stumbled into the hallway, thick arms raised, hands placed on top of his short hair, the muzzle of Cooper's FAL covering him. Except for the fact that he was wearing my armor, carrying my weapons, and was far cleaner, it was like looking in a mirror. "Against the wall," the young Hunter ordered.

"Watch it, kid," the duplicate replied.

"Do I actually sound like that?" I asked. "Man, I sound goofy."

The doppelganger looked up, seemingly surprised to see me. "What the hell is this?"

"Cut the crap, Dawn," I responded.

My beady eyes squinted back at me. "No way. This is some Condition trick. Blast it, Holly."

"Both of you, shut up," Julie ordered as she came out. Her 1911 was at her side. "One of you is my boyfriend, the other one's dog food."

"See you in hell, dog food," the doppelganger said. Dang, that was a good impression.

"So, how do you want to figure this out?" Holly asked slowly.

"We could get Earl to sniff them both, see if they smell different," Julie said. Cooper looked confused at that. Apparently he wasn't part of the in-the-know clique.

"Yeah, go get Earl. He'll know," my double said.

"Except your stupid boss put a demon in his head and Earl's busy fighting for his life right now," I said. Julie frowned. "I didn't get the chance to tell you. I tried to help, but he's on his own for now."

"Personally, I'm thinking this one's the real one," Holly tapped me on the back of the head.

"Why?" I asked.

"Because the real Z's strategy is always to get right in front and let the monsters beat on him until they get tired. The other one's too clean."

Julie nodded. "Valid point…but…" She turned back to me. "How'd you know to say that it was a doppelganger?"

"I found G-Nome stuffed into one of the toilets in the barracks. He saw Dawn cleaning up from murdering whoever was on guard duty in the control room. I read his mind before he died."

"You what?" Cooper was really confused now.

I heard approaching footsteps, and turning slowly, so Holly wouldn't get jumpy, tried to see who it was. Trip was leading the way with a massive, hulking shape loping along right behind him. It was the troll, Melvin. "What the hell?" the doppelganger and I said in perfect unison. What was that monstrosity doing loose? And armed? He had a sawed-off, 10-gauge Browning BPS in one hand.

"Hey, guys," Trip said. "Z…and Z." He was unperturbed. "So I guess one of these two is Dawn." He must have witnessed the shooting during graduation. He stopped and looked between us, trying to guess. "You know, that is some creepy stuff right there."

"Oh! Oh! Melvin help," the troll wheezed eagerly. "Trolls have good senses. We can smell evil Fey."

"You can't trust that thing," the doppelganger said.

"Okay, I've got to agree with the shape-changing monster on that one," I pointed out. "I missed the part where he joined our side."

Trip smiled and jerked a thumb at the troll. "The undead were breaking into the basement. I was outnumbered and desperate, so I made Melvin a fast job offer. He saved my butt. Say what you will, trolls are mighty handy in a fight."

"Melvin Monster Hunter now!" the troll said proudly. "Old clan all dead, because stupid. Melvin have nowhere else to go. MHI is my clan tag now."

Julie pushed her glasses back on her nose. "Trip, we're really going to have to have a discussion about this."

"He's agreed to certain terms of employment," Trip responded. "No eating people."

"Melvin not like eating people anyway. Like snacky cakes better." He smiled, showing off rows of rotting teeth. MHI did at least have a good dental plan. "Melvin will make badass IT department for you. You can pay Melvin in Red Bull and internet connection."

"No spam or fraud," Trip continued.

"Aaahhh…" Melvin whined. "Fine. Whatever."

Julie just shook her head in resignation. She'd had a very long day. "All right then, which one is the real Owen?"

The giant troll stood between us, swiveling his head back and forth. Melvin's nostrils flared. He pointed one clawed finger at me. "That one."

"Julie!" the fake cried. "You can't believe that thing! It's a monster."

"Keep your hands on your head. Coop, take his guns," Julie said.

"I can't believe you'd fall for this," it grumbled, as Cooper lifted Abomination's sling. "This is such a crock of-" The doppelganger moved suddenly, slamming his armored elbow back into Cooper's face, smashing his glasses. The Hunter crashed back into the wall. The doppelganger reached across his chest and yanked out my kukri. Julie calmly shot it in both legs. The bullets didn't penetrate the Kevlar weave, but struck like hammer blows. My duplicate dropped to its knees.

"Ha! Melvin just guess! Monster go all dumb! Ha ha!" The troll bellowed, then looked stupidly down at his hand as it separated from his arm. The rubbery appendage hit the floor. "Hey!"

My double had swung the heavy blade right through Melvin's arm. Julie shot the doppelganger in the hand and it dropped my knife. She shot it in the other hand just to be sure. Two fingers flew down the hall. It was kind of unnerving how little hesitation Julie had to shoot something that looked exactly like me. The creature tumbled to the floor and glared up at her with four injured limbs.

I was closest and grabbed Melvin. His rubbery skin squished under my hands as I caught him. "Are you okay?"

"Stupid monster. How can Melvin type now with one hand? Poor Melvin!" It sobbed as it sank to its knees. "How can play video games? Life is ruined. Noooo!"

"Somebody get me a tourniquet!" I shouted.

The troll emitted a strained wheezy noise. He was laughing at me. "I kid. I kid. Melvin grow new arm by tomorrow. Trolls very resilient."

My duplicate struggled to rise. It still spoke with my voice. "Fools. You can't stop the Condition. The time of man is done."

Julie strode over and snap-kicked it in the face, putting it solidly down. "Drag it inside. Let's see what it knows."

I used the opportunity while we taped the doppelganger to a chair to strip it of my gear. It felt good to have my armor back on. I used a bandage from my first aid kit and patched my cheek. I needed to have Gretchen look at that, but she had serious injuries to deal with upstairs, and I didn't want to bug her about my cosmetic boo-boo. It would probably leave a terrible scar. I had gotten used to having werewolf scars once before. No big deal. I had more important things weighing on my mind.

Cooper was in over his head and had a broken nose to boot, so he went back to join up with his team. Melvin got put back in the cell while he regenerated a new arm. We didn't really know what to do with him yet anyway, but Trip was a man of his word, which in the best case meant that we couldn't just shoot him, and worst case meant we probably owed him a job.

We stuck the doppelganger in the next room where it couldn't hear us while I caught the others up on Earl's state and what had transpired during the fight for the ward stone. We were using Earl's office, and just on the other side of the vault door, he lay alone and twitching, fighting an improbable battle against some shade of the Old Ones. With the possibility of him losing control and reverting to his werewolf state, we didn't even dare leave anyone inside with him. This shape-shifter could hold the keys to finding Hood, and if I could find him quickly enough, we might still be able to save Earl.

I debriefed them as fast as I could. Julie patted me on the shoulder when I was done. "Doppelgangers can read minds a bit. That's why they're such effective mimics, so it'll know exactly how far you're willing to go to find the truth. It'll play with us, mess with our minds. This is a job for somebody who knows what they're doing."

"Earl doesn't have time." Every second we waited put him one step closer to ending up like Carlos.

"I know," she said. "Do what you can. I'll find Sam, Boone, or Cody. All of those guys have had to get information out of actual human beings back when they were military. This won't be a problem for any of them."

Or my dad, I thought to myself. The will to do awful things was never something that he had lacked. And right now I just prayed that I could live up to what he'd tried to teach me.

Julie hadn't spoken any more about the marks on her stomach, not even to Trip or Holly, though the two of them had surely noticed the ruined state of her vest. "I've got to get a sit rep and headcount. I'll be back as soon as I can." Her voice was strong, the fear compartmentalized and shoved away to be dealt with later. With Earl down, and her Grandpa too old, Julie had to run the nuts and bolts of this show. Her people needed her. She left the room without another word.

God, I was terrified for her. I watched her leave, wanting nothing more than to never let her out of my sight, but Earl was counting on us, and our only lead was this doppelganger. She'd find us some experienced help from the chaos above, but in the meantime, that left Trip, Holly and me to deal with the doppelganger duct-taped to a chair in the next room.

"We should interrogate Torres too," I said as I unrolled the hose that we used to spray down Earl's cell. I had no idea what I was doing but beating the monster with a hose had definite possibilities. "Where's he at?"

They looked at each other in confusion. "We stopped the undead in the basement, but we never saw him," Trip said. "I'm assuming that other Fed, Archer, picked him up."

"The place has got to be swarming with Feds up there by now," Holly said. "I hope they've got the jerk in custody and they're about to put the screws to him. You know, I never liked him."

I hoped they were right. If he'd escaped, then Myers' stupid escapade had been for nothing. I hadn't had time to consider what I was going to do about that yet, but Myers deserved a shallow grave for what he'd brought into our house. "We better hurry. When the Feds hear we've caught this thing, they're going to haul it off."

"You guys ever done anything like this before?" Trip asked slowly. We all knew that this had the potential to get real ugly.

"Dude, I was an exotic dancer. How often do you think we had to torture information out of shapechangers?" Holly responded.

"Weekly?" I answered. I held up the hose, immediately felt stupid, so dropped it. "Don't look at me like that. I was an accountant. We didn't go over water-boarding in school either, okay?"

Trip looked a little queasy. "Maybe we should wait for Sam or one of those guys."

"We don't have the luxury." I could tell that this was really not something that Trip was mentally prepared to do. He was just too kind-hearted to contemplate torture, even against something like this. I, on the other hand, had just shot a few actual human beings, and it didn't seem to bother me at all. In fact, I felt strangely justified. I could handle this. "Get your game face on. Earl's counting on us. There's a literal demon inside his head, and it's going to rip him apart until we stop it. We can't let him down. You with us, man?"

Trip nodded with more vigor than he felt. "Yeah, let's do this."

"Holly?"

She snorted. "I'm tougher than you are."

No disagreement there. "It can read minds, so don't think weak. Think mean." I jerked the door open and we went in to question the creature.

We had used an entire roll of tape to secure the shape-shifter to a heavy wooden chair. The three of us stood in a row. If I was smart, I probably would have brought a big lamp or something to shine in its face like in the movies.

"You're out of your league," it responded, still wearing my face. "None of you children have the guts. My master holds the keys to life and death and walks in the shadows between worlds. How could you possibly expect me to betray him? My god is a wrathful god!"

"So is mine," Trip answered.

"You're Baptist," I pointed out.

"Exactly." Trip surprised me. He stepped forward and backhanded the creature in the face. "Where's the Condition?" my friend shouted.

The head rocked back, but slowly returned, laughing. I have an evil laugh when I'm angry. No wonder people consider me intimidating. "Come on, Trip, you can do better than that!" Trip hit him again, harder this time. He cocked his fist back for another shot.

Suddenly the doppelganger blurred and re-formed. The transformation was nearly instantaneous. Now it was Holly that Trip's fist collided with. She squealed in pain. Trip jerked back, shocked. The fake Holly cried, hot tears pouring down her bruised cheek. "Don't hurt me, please!"

Trip raised his hand again, but he was shaking. The doppelganger shifted again, and now it was an older black woman with white hair. "John, how dare you raise your hand to me!" She had a Jamaican accent.

Trip closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. "Where's the Condition?"

When he reopened his eyes, his mother had been replaced with a teenage girl with red hair and freckles. She batted big sad eyes at him. "You promised you'd protect us, Mr. Jones. But you let those zombies get to us anyway. You got scared. You lied! You couldn't protect us! Sure, you came back and saved the others, but you were too scared to save me. I hate you!"

"I…I'm sorry…" Trip stepped back from the creature.

"Enough," I said. "Dude, it's okay."

"Sorry." Trip was wiping his eyes as he left the room. He closed the door behind him. I glanced over at Holly. She was leaning against the wall, impassive and cool. The doppelganger turned its teenage girl face and spoke, only using my deep voice. "Your friend has a soft heart. I'm sure it'll be delicious."

"Your turn," Holly stated.

The doppelganger studied me for just a moment. Its changes were almost so quick that it was hard to believe my own eyes. For just a moment, the face would be slack, almost squishy, then it was somebody else entirely. Mannerisms, speech patterns, even size. It would have been impressive if it wasn't so disgusting.

Julie Shackleford looked up at me, fearfully, as I approached. "Don't hurt me, Owen, please," she pleaded. No. Not she. It. I kept walking.

"I'm going to figure out how to hurt you. Then I'm going to hurt you until you tell us exactly what we want to know," I stated. I repeated those words in my mind. I could afford no weakness.

"Very good, Hunter. Harden your heart," the fake Julie said. Then my girlfriend was gone and it was my father. "You always were weak, soft; it's good to see you man up and take care of business. Come on, fatty, show me what you've got."

I balled up my hand into a fist and slugged the doppelganger in the face. My whole body shook with the impact. "That's the spirit, boy!" It laughed with my father's voice. Then he was gone and it was Mordechai Byreika, old and frail. "Boy, what are you doing! Why do you hurt me?"

It's not him. He's dead.

"Smart you are, boy. But proud, and proud will hurt everyone you love."

"It won't work!" I spat.

Then it was Julie again. "It doesn't have to. I just want to enjoy the damage you're doing to your soul," it hissed. "Beat your wife, Hunter. Come on. This is what I do for fun." Then it shifted into the form of a little girl. "Owen, don't let them hurt me! Don't let them take me away. Not again!"

I paused. I had no idea who this was. She was probably seven or eight years old, with dark hair in a ponytail and blue eyes. "So, is this like a test to see if I'm willing to beat little kids or something?"

The little girl stopped her crying. "You don't remember me?" she asked incredulously.

It had to be a trick. I had never seen this kid before.

The girl giggled. "You really don't. You, the Chosen with the ability to see everyone else's memories has his own locked away…How ironic. So much power but too stupid to use it," the little girl said. "Past, future, it is all so linear to you pathetic mammals."

"Who are you supposed to be then?" I asked.

It read my hesitation. "Apparently that's a secret. Too bad for you. It's really a sad story."

"Z," Holly spoke. "It's messing with you. Step back."

"I've got this!" I shouted.

"Step back," she said again.

"Fine!" I stomped away, seething. This stupid monster was pissing me off.

Holly stopped in front of the doppelganger. The little girl face studied her. "Now you…you're dangerous," it said. "Your edge, it is not an act. There are two sides to you, human. Burning hot or freezing cold and somewhere in the middle innocence dies. Delicious."

"You can read minds?" Holly asked.

"Sure can, kiddo," it replied. Now the doppelganger was an older man with wispy hair and the flushed face of a terminal alcoholic. "You're never gonna amount to nothing. You're just like your mom, the tramp. No good slut-"

Holly cut it off by slamming the ridge of her hand into its throat. The creature coughed and wheezed, writhing against the duct tape, like the old man was having a heart attack. "You gotta try harder than that," Holly replied. "I've watched episodes of Doctor Phil that were more emotionally wrenching."

It changed again. Now it was a young woman. It was hard to tell what she looked like because every inch of her was coated in dried blood, dirt, and filth. "Holly, you bitch. You left me alone in the pit. I'm dead because of you."

My teammate snorted. "Worked through that, chief. Cindy died because she gave up. Vampires killed her. I didn't do it. Is this supposed to make me feel guilty?"

"Guilty? You should. You could have taken me with you! Whore!"

The doppelganger began to thrash, swearing and crying hysterically. Holly turned to me and shrugged. She went back to the creature, walking a slow circle around the chair, studying the mirror image of somebody who had apparently been a fellow prisoner in the vampire feeding hole. "I think that we're going about this all wrong," she said slowly.

The creature continued to curse her. I couldn't tell if the fear was genuine or fake at this point. Holly paused in front of it and pulled out her folding knife. The Benchmade flicked open with a snap. "Let me test this theory." The creature flinched and thrashed away. "Hold still, or I'll really screw this up." She slowly poked her blade into the creature's face. A clear fluid began to bleed from the cut. The woman screamed. I turned away involuntarily.

The screaming stopped. I risked a peek. Holly was holding up the dripping knife. "Yep, just like I figured. The tissue is all soft underneath, malleable. Like the fingers Julie blew off."

Holly had carved a chunk out of the thing's face. The flesh underneath had the consistency of raw dough and was leaking a viscous juice down its neck. "Oh, gross."

The doppelganger hissed. "You think you're so clever."

"Yes. Yes, I do," Holly responded. "See, I don't know how your biology works, but I'm sorta like what passes for a medical professional around here now, so I'm just going to keep cutting pieces off until I find something important."

It had reverted back to the form that it had been in most of its stay at the compound: the Newbie, Dawn. The young woman looked terrified. "Please…please don't hurt me. Owen, don't let her hurt me."

"Hurt you? You killed Billy Tanner in the control room. Slashed his throat wide open. You set up an attack that cost us I don't know how many more Hunters dead and injured. You tried to assassinate my boss." Holly smiled maliciously. "Hurt you? Dawn, you can read minds, so I want you to read what I'm thinking about doing right now." Holly closed her eyes.

The creature flinched.

Holly's smile was terrifying. "Think that'll hurt?"

"Okay, okay." Dawn blinked, and her eyes were suddenly clear orbs. Her entire face went slack, the color seemed to fade, the features just sloughed away, leaving a blank mass of goo where the head had been. The hair retracted as those ice cube eyes watched us. There wasn't even a mouth, just an indentation in the doughy mass. It puckered inward as it spoke with Dawn's voice. "So, you want to see what I really am?"

"What the hell?" I muttered.

It was some sort of…well…I didn't know, doughy asexual humanoid blob, utterly pale and damp. It seemed to shrink inward, as if it had been artificially inflating itself to reach correct human proportions. The fingers exposed from the end of the tape were stubby little white sausages that wiggled like hooked nightcrawlers, except the end of each one terminated in a hard yellow point. "Happy now?" Its voice was utterly bland, toneless, accentless, neither masculine nor feminine.

"Yeah, that's much better," Holly gagged.

"Maybe you should go back to the beauty queen," I suggested. How had this…alien made it through the warding? Damn, the Pillsbury Doughboy had come on to me.

"Shove it, human," the doppelganger said, hissing bubbles through its face. One crystal eyeball swiveled to study me, bulging out of the lumpy head, independent of the other. Apparently it had read my thoughts. "Your ward meant nothing to me. I was born on Earth. There are more of us here than you expect. We're everywhere, preparing the way for the great and inevitable return of-"

"Shut up, Gumby." Holly silenced it by shoving her knife against the creature's chest. "Where's the real Dawn?"

"Dead," it answered. "Replaced not long after Harbinger and Shackleford made her a job offer. We did not even know of this one at the time." It twitched one eye at me. "I was just to observe. The High Priest believed that MHI might pose a future threat to his plans."

I stepped forward. "Where is this High Priest? Where's Hood?"

The creature shook as it laughed. The sound was utterly emotionless. "He's with your brother."

What? Holly and I exchanged glances.

"I hid during the initial assault. My attempt on Harbinger had failed and I waited for an opportunity to redeem myself rather than return to the Exalted Order in shame. I sensed the presence of the acolyte known as Torres. So I freed him. In his wisdom, he suggested that I take your form so we could get close to one of your loved ones. Torres will go far in the Order. I found your brother and asked him to follow me to the basement. Torres led him into the tunnels. They are gone now, surely reunited with the High Priest by now."

I stumbled back in shock. Mosh? Gone. I could envision this creature leading him away. Mosh would have trusted what he thought was me. He would never have even guessed. It had to be lying. Mosh had to still be upstairs. "You bastard. I don't believe you!"

"Believe it, hairless monkey. I'm sure he will be contacting you soon. I returned here to try and finish my assignment. I was to neutralize Harbinger. When I found that the High Priest had already dealt with him, I fled. That's when you caught me."

It was telling the truth. Mosh was gone. They'd taken my brother. Rage darkened my vision. My boot collided with the doppelganger's chest. It flew back, crashing violently into the floor. The creature emitted a high-pitched squeal. I kicked it again, shattering the back of the chair against the concrete. "Where?" I put the boot to it, stomping the monster over and over. It felt spongy, but something hard cracked on the inside. "Where's my brother?"

"Z!" Holly shouted. "Calm down. We don't know what kind of abuse this thing can take."

"Where's Hood?" The impact of my steel-toed boot slid the doppelganger across the floor. I kicked it again.

Holly grabbed one of the straps on my vest and tried in vain to pull me back. "Stop it!"

I paused, fists clenched tight, breathing hard, seeing red, stomping back and forth, hot air blowing through my nostrils. This thing had my brother.

Slumped on the floor, it laughed at us one final time. "Go suckle your warm-blooded young, filthy mammal," it hissed. "My work is done." It made a rattling noise and the protruding eyes flopped limp.

Unclenching my fists, I glanced at Holly. She looked back at me, shocked. "Did I kill it?" She shrugged. It was more like it had just given up the ghost after taunting me. "Oh crap…what do we do now?"

There was no time to contemplate that question. The door flew open with a bang. It was Sam Haven. Trip was right behind him. "We've got a problem," the burly Hunter said quickly. He didn't even seem to notice the doughy monster lying dead on the floor.

"Sorry, Sam, I think I killed it," I responded.

"No. Some of the cultists survived. They've regrouped the remaining undead."

But that didn't make any sense…with the ward in place they couldn't touch us.

Trip was panicked. "They're burning the orc village!"

Chapter 18

A horn was blowing.

The sound echoed across the compound, a plaintive wail, coming from the direction of Skippy's village. The sun was rising over the hills and a thick plume of black smoke was rising from the nearby forest. I leapt into the back of a waiting pickup truck. Trip, Holly, and Sam were right behind me. I slammed my palms down on the truck roof and shouted, "Go! Go!" to the unknown Hunter who was driving. The truck lurched forward, threatening to knock us down. We tore across the red dirt, dawn's first light turning us into long shadows. Dust hung in the air from vehicles that had left moments before us.

I stared at my companions. All three of them were dazed. An attack on us was one thing, but the orcs? There were children there. We bounced onto a narrow forest road, forcing all of us to duck to avoid the stinging branches.

Sam caught my glance. "A bunch took off as soon as we heard the war horns. Skippy and their warriors weren't home. They were helping us," he shouted. "Cheating, rat-bastard sons a bitches!" Furious, he slammed one meaty fist against the side of the truck.

The tribe had lived with MHI for years, they could have settled inside the boundary of the compound and the protection of its warding, but they were too uncomfortable around humans to ever live inside our walls. Their people had been persecuted for generations, and even though they considered themselves part of our clan, they preferred solitude.

They just wanted to be left alone.

The air smelled like smoke.

The orc village was just a circle of simple prefab houses, decorated with antlers, animal skulls, and feathers. It was where Skippy's people lived under the protective umbrella of their adopted clan, MHI. They had come here as refugees, and Harbinger had taken them in. They had made this their home, safe from the world that saw them as freaks and monstrosities. I had been here many times. I'd eaten their food, drank their drink, played with their kids, and listened to their music.

It had been a peaceful place.

Not anymore.

The truck locked up the brakes as we entered the clearing. I leapt over the side before we had even slid to a stop, Abomination ready to dispense some vengeance. The wooden homes were burning, crackling as the flames devoured everything in their path. A giant warg lay dead at my feet, eviscerated by steel claws. Hunters were moving around the houses.

There were more corpses near the homes. Most were Hood's automatons, as even orc women and children knew how to defend themselves, but some of the crumpled bodies were smaller and dressed all in black.

"Status!" Sam shouted.

A Hunter, so covered in soot, ashes, and blood that I couldn't even recognize who it was, stepped forward. "Undead destroyed. A handful of cultists are escaping through the forest. We've got men after them."

"Casualties?"

His name tag read southunder. "I…I don't know how many people lived here, but it looks like most of them escaped into the woods. But some tried to stay and fight. They…they…" The Hunter couldn't finish his sentence. He had a Utah County MHI patch on his arm, a werewolf with a gun. I'd heard that our Utah team had an orc volunteer on it too, someone who'd grown up in this very village. "I can't believe this."

"There were probably two dozen kids that lived here," Trip said slowly.

I stumbled toward the bodies. Other Hunters were efficiently chopping the heads off the undead and checking for survivors. There weren't any so far. The smoke was burning my eyes, and involuntary tears cut a path down my cheek.

This was my fault.

A warg and rider tore into the village. The black-clad figure leapt from the beast's back and ran, tripping, and sprawling next to one of the dead. The orc clawed his way forward, lifting the lacerated little body into his arms. He let out a howl of anguish.

It was a massacre.

"Survivor!" a Hunter bellowed from the far side of the clearing. She was carrying a small form her arms. Holly, who was a decent medic, ran to help. I watched helplessly as she applied a tourniquet to the young orc's leg. The foot was just gone.

In an utter state of shock, I found myself trying to assist. Someone pressed a plastic five-gallon bucket into my hands. We managed to use the orcs' well to douse the flames. I kept throwing water onto the fires in a complete daze, bucket after bucket, in a futile attempt to do something.

The warriors and healers who had come to help at the compound returned, all of them in various states of despair, fury, and grief. Skippy immediately began to bark orders in their hoarse language and the others responded quickly, fanning out into the trees to search for more survivors.

They were a simple people. Brave, good, strong, kind…They didn't deserve this. No one deserved this.

There was a shriek as someone made a discovery in the trees. One of the wargs had picked up the scent and tracked down some of the fleeing orcs. A figure came out of the forest, waving at us, and I could tell it was a female only because of the burkha. A group of short, stubby children emerged behind her. Some of them had lost their masks, and tears rolled down their green cheeks. They were terrified, disheveled, clothing torn and dirty from their flight through the trees.

Skippy ran forward and engulfed her in his arms. One of his wives had led most of the children to safety. Three of the kids charged forward and hugged Skippy's legs. I tossed one more bucket of water onto the smoldering ashes. The fire was under control, but it was too late for the once-proud village. My injuries were just a dull background throb over the hurt in my soul. My brother was gone, Julie was cursed, Earl was dying, Skippy's people were decimated, and all because of one fanatic on a mission. All because of me.

Sam grabbed me by the arm and pointed back toward the road. "Feds are coming."

"The orcs have been through enough. I'll keep those assholes out of here," I spat as I threw the bucket on the ground. A black Suburban was pulling into the clearing and I moved to intercept it. The last thing these people needed was the presence of an entity that terrified them-the government.

The passenger door opened and Agent Myers stepped out. It took every bit of self-control I had not to snap Abomination to my shoulder and pump a round of buckshot into his face.

"Pitt! What's going on here?" he demanded.

"Turn around and get back to the compound," I ordered. "Now."

Archer got out of the driver's seat, obviously shocked at the carnage. Myers glared at me. "My men are in control of the compound. This is an official investigation, and I need to know what's-"

I got right up in his face. "Get out! Don't you get it? These people are scared of you. They've got more important stuff to deal with right now."

"Stand down," Myers said, eyes narrowing dangerously.

"No! You stand down!" I shoved him back into the Suburban. Myers was shocked that I dared to lay hands on him, and the evidence was in the two soot-black handprints on the breast of his cheap suit. "I'm done standing down, asshole!"

Archer moved his hand to his gun. Sam cleared his throat, and the skinny agent glanced over his shoulder to see the big Hunter standing there with a.45-70 cradled in his arms. "Let's let those two settle their beef. Know what I mean, kid?" Archer nodded slowly as he let go of the butt of his Sig.

Myers tried to dust the ash off his suit. He failed. "I can understand the anger, but if you touch me again, I'll make sure you go to prison forever. Do you understand me?"

I jerked my thumb toward the grieving orcs. "This is your fault. You took your problem and made it ours, you coward. You lied to us, used us…" I was enraged, shaking. I shoved him again. He collided with the Suburban. Myers flinched on impact. "Torres, the asshole scumbag you brought here, he took my brother. My brother! You-"

Despite his mild appearance, Myers was shockingly fast on the draw. The barrel of his revolver appeared under my chin. I froze. He cocked the hammer. "Calm down." The muzzle was cold against my skin. I was breathing hard, nostrils flaring with each breath as I contemplated snatching his gun and killing him on the spot. The hardness in Myers' eyes indicated that I would fail. "Listen to me very carefully, Pitt. This isn't a game. You think I wanted this? You think I wanted these creatures to get hurt, for your family, for MHI to lose men? Of course not. But this is bigger than that, bigger than you, bigger than me. You have no idea how hard the choices are that I have to make."

"Only when you choose wrong, you're not the one paying the price."

"I'll pass that along to Agent Herzog and my men who died at the amphitheater." He slowly removed his Smith & Wesson 610 from my neck. A crowd of orcs were regarding us warily. I had no doubt that if Myers had shot me, they would have torn him limb from limb, and he knew it too. He carefully lowered the hammer. "We'll leave your precious monsters alone. I know I'm their bogeyman. Take a walk with me, Pitt. I think you need to understand what's at stake here."

Myers and I stopped at the entrance to the clearing. It was quieter here, but I could still hear the lamentations of the tribe. I was furious. Myers holstered his revolver and pulled out a pack of smokes. He offered one to me. Resisting the urge to cave his skull in, I shook my head.

"I'm trying to quit," he explained as he lit the cigarette. "Ironic. It was working with Earl that got me hooked on these stupid things. The good old days…" Myers chuckled. "Looks like they've come back to haunt us."

"You know about Hood, then?"

"Franks briefed me." He shook his head slowly. "I can't believe it."

"Well, you better."

"No…That's impossible. Marty Hood was a good man." I could sense the consternation in his voice. He really couldn't wrap his mind around the truth. Myers continued, "He was my friend. Nothing like this cult leader. The Condition is brutal, efficient, psychotic. They'll stop at nothing to reach their goals."

"So that's why you stuck one of their acolytes with me?"

He shrugged. "I saw an opportunity and took it. There were only a handful of my men who could have sold out Agent Patterson. Investigating them turned up nothing. If I questioned them outright, then they'd know I was onto them, and we'd lose our opportunity. But I knew that they wouldn't be able to resist taking a shot at you." He waved his hand across the clearing. "I just didn't expect this level of response."

I had to fold my arms across my chest. Every fiber of my being wanted to murder him. "You just expected them to pop me. Not a full-on assault."

"Correct." Myers said, stone-faced. "Don't look at me like that. You would have done the same thing."

"No. I still have my soul."

Myers tossed his smoke down and ground it out with his wingtip. "When the President himself tells you to stop a death cult, no matter what the cost, then your perspective changes a bit. The Condition is getting ready for something big. Something devastating, called Arbmunep. We don't even know what it is, some sort of secret weapon, but it's coming soon. All our intel indicates that this is an Extinction Level Event. Do you know what that even means?"

I shrugged. It sounded pretty bad.

"Poof. Done. Mankind's done. We're like the dinosaurs. I'm personally responsible for the defense of my country, and I've got the things from Lovecraft's worst nightmares knocking on the door…A soul? You say I don't have a soul? That's a luxury for people who don't have my responsibilities. People who live in the suburbs and take their kids to Little League and walk their dogs have those. I can't afford a soul."

There was more yelling from the direction of the village as some of the Hunters returned with more survivors. "What are you going to do about my brother?"

"My men are interrogating some of the surviving cultists now. I've got others tearing apart the trucks and undead looking for forensic evidence. All this material came from somewhere. We have access to the best intelligence databases in the world. The Condition's tipped their hand. You can't stage an operation of this scale and not leave clues. We'll track them down for sure."

That wasn't what I wanted to hear. I wanted results now. "Earl will be gone by then. Mosh will be dead."

"I'm sorry about them, really I am. But we're doing everything we can. I can promise you this: we will bring these people to justice."

"Justice isn't good enough."

There was a sudden commotion from the orc village. A group of Hunters walked out of the trees, dragging a few robed cultists behind them. Myers perked up. "Good. More people to question."

There were three prisoners. Their black robes were torn and muddy. One of them was obviously injured. The Hunters stepped aside as several orcs approached. One of them had a pair of swords on his back, so I recognized Edward immediately. One blade flashed from its sheath as Ed stalked forward with single-minded determination.

"You want to question them, you better hurry," I suggested. Edward looked like he was about to do the slice and dice.

"Stop! Stop right there!" Myers shouted as he ran back toward the village. "Stop that orc!" Edward either didn't hear him or didn't care. The sword sang through the air and one man went down in a spray of blood. Ed was a super-efficient killing machine, but that wasn't his goal today. The cultist dropped to his knees, one arm missing at the shoulder. He started to scream and Ed took his other arm. "I need them alive!"

Ed paid him no heed. He drove his blade through the pelvis of the next cultist. These men had hurt his tribe. He was their best warrior, and default executioner. The Hunters understood this and stayed out of the way. That didn't help me get Mosh back though. Ed jerked steel through bone, grinding his sword back and forth, before tearing it violently free. That cultist fell, thrashing.

"Skippy, stop him," I bellowed. Skippy's goggled head dipped once in agreement. He raised his gloved hand and Ed complied immediately, perfectly still, sword tip inches from the last cultist's nose.

"Make this…good…" Skippy grunted.

I reached them a moment later. Myers was hesitant to get too close to Ed, who was like a statue, one sword unmoving in the last standing cultist's face. A single drop of blood fell from the tip of the steel. The one with no arms had passed out in a puddle. The other's bowels had been opened in half a dozen places. He was still crying, and probably would for quite a while.

Myers addressed the last uninjured man. "Tell me where to find your High Priest, or I'll give you to these…creatures."

He was a young man who looked more like a frat pledge than a cultist. His eyes flicked nervously to his dying companions, to the faces of the impassive Hunters, and then to the masked and circling orcs. Obviously terrified, he stammered, "I…I…can't."

"Yes…can," Skippy stated over the screams of the dying. The orc chief glanced down at the disemboweled cultist. The cries were annoying him. "Quiet bad human."

Edward responded instantly. His sword swung down, severing the injured man's head cleanly from his body and sending it bouncing across the dirt. The blade returned immediately to its space before the young cultist's nose.

Skip looked down at the twitching body. "Not mean for kill him, Exszrsd. " He finished the sentence in his own incomprehensible language.

Ed shrugged, as if to say whoops. Ed was a literal kind of guy.

"Okay, don't hurt me, don't hurt me!" the cultist stammered.

"Talk!" Myers shouted. "Where is he?"

"If I tell you, he'll hunt me down. You can't stop him. He walks through the shadows! He owns the night."

"We can protect you," the senior agent said calmly. "I represent the government. We've got places that even he can't go."

There was a glimmer of hope. "You…you do?"

"Yes," Myers responded soothingly. "You help me and I can help you. What's your name, son?" Myers was a sly one, but then again, he had plenty of practice playing good cop to Franks' bad cop.

The cultist was terrified. His eyes crossed a bit as he looked down the length of the sword. "Chad. My name's Chad. I didn't know what I was getting into. You've got to believe me." He began to babble. "Some other guys told me about this church, and they could do all sorts of cool stuff, and if you did what they said, then you wouldn't ever die! And I saw it with my own eyes. You've got to believe me. I just wanted to have that power. But then they were doing all sorts of crazy stuff. I was scared of the High Priest, so I went along. I never wanted to hurt anybody."

Skippy shook his head. I had serious doubts that no matter what Myers promised, Chad was not going to leave this village alive. I almost felt bad for the guy. He was probably younger than me, inexperienced, stupid, and suckered into something way over his head. I noticed that he had a squid necklace, like a smaller version of the one Hood had been wearing. Maybe it was just the light, but it seemed slick and alive.

Myers continued, being as unthreatening as possible, which for him was saying a lot. "I understand. Chad, I give you my word. You give me a location, and I'll get you right into protective custody. I promise. Okay?"

Chad had started blubbering. "Okay." He nodded, obviously broken. Watching Edward mercilessly chop two of his buddies into bits probably helped. "I'll tell you everything I know." He took a deep breath and wiped his nose on his sleeve. "There's a place in New-" Chad looked down in sudden confusion. He tried to speak, but no sound came out. He clutched at his throat.