Shaker of Earth (SPECTR Series 2 Book 5) Read online

  “You are one of Drugoy’s renfields,” Gray growls. “Tell me why I should not simply kill you now.”

  Chapter 2

  John crowded into the tech worker’s cubicle along with Karl, Steele, Zahira, and Barillo. Heather Lee read the nameplate; John recognized the name from IT emails, though he hadn’t met the woman in person before. She connected Ericsson’s phone to a cord, and the monitor in front of her began to mirror its screen. “We looked for relevant names in the contact list,” she explained. “I thought we’d have to dig for deleted texts, but he either didn’t bother, or didn’t have time, to get rid of any of them.”

  Ericsson never imagined he’d get caught. Just as with the shakedowns and the fancy house. He’d felt invulnerable. Was that Yuri’s influence? If Ericsson was a renfield, he would have been powered up on Drugoy’s blood.

  Caleb and Gray had been acting invulnerable as well. As though there could be no possible consequences for their actions, right up until the moment there were. Yuri and Drugoy had a way with people, it seemed.

  “So, the first thing we came across that seems incriminating are a series of texts to and from a woman named Cindy Newman.”

  “That was the singer Ericsson hooked up with,” Steele offered. “Jansen said her band got turned into the sirens.” He bit his lip. “I still can’t believe…you should’ve seen that dinner cruise. What they did to those people. Fuck, Ericsson threw up over the side when he saw it. He couldn’t have anything to do with them.”

  “Maybe he didn’t realize how bad things would get,” Zahira said grimly. “What do the texts say?”

  Lee brought them up and began to scroll. “I’ll let you read for yourself, but the gist is Cindy Newman and Darrel Ericsson went on a date, and…well, a few days later we get this exchange.”

  Darrel Ericsson: Got some free time this weekend. Let’s do it again.

  Cindy: Are you out of your mind?

  DE: What? You had a good time, once you loosened up a little.

  Cindy: You mean after you roofied me.

  DE: What are you telling people?

  Cindy: The truth. The rest of the band knows. They told me to go to the police. But I just want to be left alone. I don’t want to hear from you again.

  DE: You keep your fucking mouth shut. I can ruin you. I’m a federal agent.

  Cindy: Please, just leave me alone.

  DE: Too late for that, bitch.

  DE: You’re going to be sorry.

  DE: I have ways of taking care of bitches like you.

  DE: Cunt.

  Bile rose in John’s throat. “He raped her,” he said faintly. “And then he forced NHEs into her and her bandmates. The dinner cruise, everyone the sirens killed, it was all just to cover his own ass.”

  Zahira’s lips moved soundlessly in prayer. Steele’s face took on a greenish hue. “I didn’t know,” he said. “I swear to God, I didn’t know. I would’ve turned him in myself, and to hell with the consequences.”

  A clearer picture was forming in John’s mind of what must have happened in Ericsson’s bedroom before he got there. Caleb and Gray had arrived, whether to confront Ericsson or kill him outright, John couldn’t guess. They’d already suspected about the sirens; possibly Ericsson said something to confirm it. Then they fought, and Ericsson stabbed them through the skull. Had he threatened Zahira then, or before?

  Had he tried to exorcise Gray? It wasn’t supposed to be possible after forty days, but as far as John knew, no one had tried with a knife actually embedded in the host body’s brain. Hard to save the victim after stabbing four inches of silver into their head.

  Maybe it had been—or at least felt—more like a life-or-death fight for Gray than John had imagined. And not just Caleb’s life—Zahira’s and John’s.

  If Gray meant to feed on Ericsson from the start, he could have done it without breaking a sweat. Waited for Ericsson to leave and jumped down off the roof. Ericsson wouldn’t have had a chance to fight back.

  Caleb, at least, had wanted answers.

  “Is that all?” Barillo asked. “You could’ve just told us in the conference room, Lee.”

  “No, sir.” Her hands trembled slightly as she swiped to another text chain. “This one is between Azarov and Ericsson.”

  Yuri Azarov: How are things in SPECTR? Anything new to report?

  Darrel Ericsson: Not yet. Keeping up the pressure on Jansen. I wrote “monster” on the door of the conference room they use, where everyone could see it.

  YA: Good, good. I have a little something for you. Your chief continues to complain about his “problem employees” to Isabelle. She planted the suggestion he separate them from one another, then see if performance improves.

  DE: I bet he loved that.

  YA: Predictably so. I leave the details up to you, but I would like you to become Gray and Caleb’s new partner.

  DE: You’re kidding me.

  YA: I assure you, I am not. Don’t worry, I don’t expect you to make friends. Quite the opposite, in fact.

  DE: All right. Shouldn’t be too hard. Hell, Barillo will probably think he was the one who came up with the idea.

  YA: Perfect. Keep me informed.

  “There are some more texts, later,” Lee said. “Azarov ordered Ericsson to assassinate Special Agent Starkweather ASAP. Ericsson wanted time to set something up, but Azarov shut him down, said it had to be in the next few hours. Once Ericsson killed Starkweather, he was to murder Special Agent Noorzai as well.”

  She trailed off, carefully not looking at Barillo. The chief shifted uneasily from foot to foot. “I don’t know any Isabelle,” he growled at last. “This is—is some kind of setup. They wanted to discredit me.” He rounded on Karl. “Tell everyone I’m not lying!”

  “You don’t know anyone named Isabelle, to your knowledge,” Karl replied. And stopped there.

  Fuck. How could this be happening? “Is there anyone—anyone—here not following Yuri’s orders?”

  John didn’t want to look at Zahira, but couldn’t help it. She’d been the only agent willing to work with them. Learning as much as possible about drakul, about Gray, had been her driving goal from day one. But what if…

  “Of course I’m not, John!” she exclaimed, glaring at him. “Ericsson was supposed to kill me next, remember?”

  He scrubbed a hand over his face. Goddess, he was tired. “Yeah, I…sorry.”

  “She’s telling the truth,” Karl said, unprompted.

  “I wasn’t taking orders from any damned NHE,” Barillo snapped. “I’m telling you, it’s a setup!”

  “You haven’t talked about SPECTR at all to anyone outside the office?” John challenged. “Not complained about any employees to a female acquaintance?” Too bad he didn’t have the photos from the stakeout on his phone. “African-American, about five-six, hair in braids, loves motorcycles?”

  Barillo’s lips parted slightly, and something like recognition flickered through his eyes. But he only said, “Stop trying to make this about me, Starkweather. If you’d come forward with information about the second drakul, none of this would have happened.”

  “Or it might have happened sooner,” Zahira said. “From what I’m hearing, Azarov had too many plans in place. He must have had a Plan B.”

  She wasn’t wrong. But Barillo wasn’t in the mood to be argued with. “I ought to lock you up and throw away the key, Starkweather.”

  If Barillo had done Yuri’s dirty work, at least it seemed to have been inadvertent. Right now, keeping him happy seemed the best option. “I admit, I acted inappropriately for an agent of SPECTR. I broke the law by failing to report an NHE to the proper authorities.”

  “Technically, you are the proper authority,” Karl pointed out.

  “What I did was wrong.” John lifted his chin slightly, not looking away from Barillo. “Whether I broke the letter of the law or not, I certainly broke its spirit. Let me help stop Yuri and Dru, and I swear—I swear—I will turn myself in for whatever punishment
SPECTR, or the court system, believes fits my crimes.”

  “He’s telling the truth,” Karl said. “Chief, please. We need all the help we can get.”

  Barillo scowled at them all, and for a moment John was certain he was going to order Zahira to cuff him. Instead, he said, “So how do we stop this thing? And where the fuck is Jansen?” A thoughtful look replaced the scowl. “Wait. The text was probably to throw us off the trail. I bet Jansen is working with Azarov.”

  It took John a moment to find his words through his shock. “That doesn’t even make sense!”

  “Doesn’t it, though?” Barillo snorted. “All this has been to get me out of the way. I wouldn’t put up with any of Jansen’s bullshit, so he called his friend Azarov in to help smear my name. Subverted Ericsson to make me look bad.” The sneer returned. “And now they’re having a spat over their mutual fuck buddy.”

  John clung to his rage, because it let him forget about his fear. “Go to hell.”

  “Please, both of you!” Karl exclaimed. “Chief, my husband and daughter are out there. Hopefully safe at home, but our house isn’t a fortress.”

  Crap. John had been so worried about Caleb and Gray, he’d forgotten other people—his own friends—had the same concerns about their families. “I’m sorry, Karl. I’m sure they’re fine.”

  Karl waved impatiently. “My point is, we have NHEs to fight, and instead we’re standing here fighting each other. We need all hands on deck, as soon as possible.”

  Another agent trotted up behind them, his pale cheeks flushed with exertion and fear. “Chief! There you are.”

  “What is it, Quackenbush?”

  “Bad news,” Quackenbush said. “The cell towers are overloaded, but our agents who have been able to get through report they’re losing ground by the minute. Demons are pouring out all over the place.”

  Barillo swore.

  “And, just to add to the trouble, there’s been an earthquake. A small one—we didn’t even feel it down here—but strong enough at the surface to knock things off the shelves. Which means even more people are trying to make panicked calls.”

  Zahira’s dark eyes widened in dismay, and she glanced at John. “Do you remember what Gray said about the other drakul he hunted with in the etheric plane? About what it was?”

  “What it was?” Steele asked. “It’s a drakul—what else is there?”

  But John knew what she meant. “The drakul aren’t just demons. A wendigo might embody hunger, or a werewolf rage, but drakul are forces of nature. The leader of the Vigilant called them gods upon the earth, and after what I saw at Fort Sumter, I don’t think she was wrong.” He met Zahira’s worried gaze. “Gray is the storm. And Drugoy…Drugoy is the earthquake.”

  Silence followed his pronouncement. Then Barillo muttered a curse. “Fine. You’re in, Starkweather. Everyone gear up and meet me up top in five.”

  * * *

  Christ, Gray, he can’t tell us anything if you’re strangling him! Caleb exclaimed. Let go. I’ll handle this.

  He could sense Gray’s reluctance, and hell, Deacon wasn’t exactly Caleb’s favorite person at the moment, either. But if Deacon hadn’t let them go, they’d still be staked to the lamppost, just waiting for Drugoy to come back and finish the job.

  “Very well,” Gray replied after a moment. “But I do not like him.”

  Gray fell back, and Caleb instantly let go of Deacon’s throat. Deacon scrambled away, coughing and massaging his neck.

  “Sorry,” Caleb said, holding up his hands. “Gray isn’t very happy with you right now. But you did save us.” He paused. “The question is, why? Did Yuri send you?” But that didn’t make any sense.

  “Sort of.” Deacon cleared his throat and took another step back, green eyes wary. “He sent me to keep an eye on you. Make sure the werewolves didn’t decide to add drakul to the menu. And that no one showed up to free you.”

  “So why let us go?” A dreadful thought occurred. “Or is this some new trick of Yuri’s?”

  “No!” At Caleb’s skeptical look, Deacon’s shoulders slumped. “I know you don’t have any reason to believe me. Hell, I probably wouldn’t believe me either, in your place.”

  Caleb folded his arms over his chest. His leather coat was ragged and streaked with blood; it would be a miracle if the thing survived. “Convince me.”

  “I never had much paranormal ability.” Deacon looked away, his expression wretched. “I mean, I guess I did compared to some people. I could move small things with my mind, just enough to be aware of what my potential would be if I had real power. Then I met Yuri and Drugoy. And I thought…” He swallowed convulsively and winced again. “I don’t know what I thought. You know what it’s like. The money, the lavish gifts. The blood.”

  “And in return you, what, stalked us?” Caleb demanded.

  “I was supposed to befriend you.” Deacon licked dry lips. “I talked Nigel into counter-protesting outside of SPECTR, in the hopes you’d be intrigued. If that hadn’t worked, I would have found another way, but it did. By that time, I’d already introduced Mike to Yuri and Isabelle.”

  “Why? You had to know what they were going to do to him.” Mike had ended up possessed by a grendel, in exchange for revenge against the bigots who beat him up. Things hadn’t turned out well.

  “It was nothing he didn’t want!” Deacon protested. “I would’ve felt the same in his shoes. Things were coming to a head—Mike’s forty days were about up—and Yuri and Drugoy had already made contact with you. Yuri told us to stage the incident at the PASS meeting—that was supposed to be the fee for having Isabelle exorcise Mike.”

  Caleb felt sick. “I’m guessing Mike didn’t realize Drugoy planned on eating him.”

  “No. At least, I don’t think so. I didn’t realize it, either. Or maybe I did, and I just didn’t want to believe it.” Deacon stared miserably at the cracked concrete. “I’m sorry, Caleb. When Yuri first told me to make friends with you, it was just a favor I was doing for him. But then it got…it got real. At least for me. I didn’t want to hurt you, but I didn’t think I had a choice.”

  Asshole.

  Gray stirred. “I do not like him. I do not like Isabelle. Drugoy’s renfields are a reflection of his twisted heart.”

  Maybe it said something, that Gray had fixated on good people like John and Zahira.

  Or it might have, if they hadn’t fucked everything up so badly that John didn’t ever want to see them again. Zahira would probably feel the same way.

  “So you were supposed to make friends with me, just so you could turn PASS against me,” Caleb said.

  Deacon nodded. “Yuri wanted you to feel isolated, so you wouldn’t have anyone but him and Dru.”

  Isolated socially, and isolated at work. “He had Ericsson watching me at SPECTR. Doing shit like putting garlic oil on my phone.”

  “Yeah. Ericsson was another renfield. He got off on the power, you know? And of course, Isabelle thought it was hilarious, leading that boss of yours around on a string without him even knowing.”

  Caleb felt as though he’d swallowed a chunk of ice and had it get stuck in his throat. “Barillo?”

  Deacon looked surprised. “You didn’t know? Shit. Yeah, she figured out he liked to stop at a sports bar on the way home to unwind. She struck up a conversation, made friends with him. I mean, he wasn’t stupid enough to say he worked for SPECTR, and I’m sure he figured he was being discreet, complaining about his employees in the vaguest way possible. But it wasn’t like she was trying to get information out of him, was it? So she’d agree with him when he complained about ‘the gays,’ and his bosses who wanted him to coddle some guy who shouldn’t even be working there, and on and on. And of course, the whole time, she’s giving him little suggestions about how to handle things.”

  “Fucking Barillo.” Caleb rubbed his eyes. “He didn’t have a clue, did he?”

  “No. Never even heard the name Yuri Azarov.” Deacon shrugged. “I don’t know if Yuri was hop
ing you’d snap and do away with Barillo or what.”

  Caleb tipped his head back, trying to think things through. “Yuri sent Ericsson to kill John. And Zahira was next. Was Ericsson supposed to frame someone else? Or did Yuri always expect me to find out somehow?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Yes. Ericsson was probably the backup plan when I didn’t do in Barillo.” God. Yuri’s former superiors in Soviet intelligence would have been impressed by the web he’d woven. “So why are you telling me all this? Why betray Yuri and Dru now?”

  Deacon’s eyes widened, and he gestured toward the city. “You don’t know, do you? While you were here, taking a nap, they decided it was time for the fucking apocalypse.”

  Chapter 3

  The fire. The distant sirens.

  Dread constricted around Caleb’s chest. “Wh-what?”

  “It’s chaos out there. Yuri is putting NHEs in anyone he passes. There are werewolves running down East Bay Street, for fuck’s sake.” Deacon shook his head. “I didn’t sign up for this.”

  The ground beneath their feet vibrated, as though a heavy truck had driven past. The pile of steel rattled, and a chunk of concrete toppled from the heap of a demolished wall and rolled across the ground to fetch up against Caleb’s boot.

  Deacon looked around uncertainly. “What was that?”

  “A train?” Caleb suggested. But the tracks running to the freight yard were nearby, and he didn’t see anything moving.

  No. Not a train. An earthquake.

  “Drugoy.”

  Oh hell. Drugoy must be glutting himself on the demons Yuri had summoned.

  Gray’s worry thrummed beneath Caleb’s, reflecting it back to him. “They spoke of making this city into a paradise for drakul. Drugoy spared us because he believes he can still convince us to join them.”