Shaker of Earth (SPECTR Series 2 Book 5) Page 6

  Gray blindly grabs its throat, seeking to tear its jaws free from their flesh. At the same moment, it reaches into the gap where their coat has fallen open and rips aside muscle in search of the organs beneath.

  This is not going as well as he had hoped.

  He punches his claws as deeply as he can into the wendigo’s throat, ignoring the agony it inflects on his body. Cold blood pours over one hand, then the other, and it loosens its grip enough for Caleb’s telekinesis to fling it off them.

  Gray falls to one knee, gasping. The bones of their shattered eye socket pop back into place, and the deep puncture wounds on their face start to fill in. Blinking, he looks up; the wendigo is clutching at its injured neck, thick blood pouring out of its jugulars. It will heal quickly—but not quickly enough.

  Ignoring the blaze of pain in their abdomen, Gray launches himself from kneeling position, tackling the wendigo with all his remaining strength. It crashes back into a car, and he drives his teeth deep into its throat.

  The blood is freezing cold, but still delicious. Wounds heal as he feeds, holding the wendigo upright when its legs would have given out.

  And it is good. Not as good as when they believed Drugoy was their friend, not as good as when John was with them, but there is still pleasure in the hunt and the fight and the feeding.

  The last of the wendigo’s energy passes into them. Gray lets it go, and it slumps to the ground, already rotting.

  The street is quiet. The second agent, the exorcist, lies dead in the street, her silver athame near her hand. “She must have tried to free the ghouls from Yuri’s control,” Caleb says. “Hell, since they’ve run off, maybe she succeeded.”

  The telekinetic is dead as well. Why did he run?

  Caleb sighs. “Because we ate a SPECTR agent? Who knows what Barillo has been telling everyone about us. For all I know, he might be making Ericsson out to be an innocent victim.”

  Gray has never thought much about fairness. Things simply are. But this does not seem fair, for a man who had no reason to fear them to lose his life out of panic. It is not right.

  “Mr. Gray?” Mrs. Chatwal calls nervously from the corner. “It got quiet, so we thought it might be safe to come out now?”

  Caleb nudges him, so Gray relinquishes control.

  “Had a bit of a problem with a wendigo,” Caleb says, “But it’s safe. Just, um, let me move these bodies before the kids see them.”

  The woman blanches. “Oh. Yes.”

  “Yeah.” Caleb gestures at the SUV. “But I have some good news. We don’t have to walk anymore.”

  * * *

  John’s phone suddenly dinged with an incoming text message, instantly followed by a chorus of notifications from every other phone in the SUV.

  They’d made their way slowly down King Street, following the destruction south toward the Battery. Thankfully they hadn’t encountered any more large packs, but there had been a scattering of lone ghouls and werewolves, several of whom John had been able to successfully exorcise. Each took longer than the last, however, and he had the feeling the next time he simply wouldn’t have the power left to remove the NHE.

  John dug out his phone. The text was from an unfamiliar number, but read: Y&D after you. B compromised. Stay in HQ. This is our mess to clean up. -C&G

  Relief flooded through him, so strong it stole his breath for a moment. “They’re alive,” he said aloud. “Caleb sent me a text a few hours ago, probably right after the earthquake happened.”

  “I told you,” Zahira said, but her shaky smile revealed that she’d been worried, too. “What did he say?”

  “Somehow, he found out Barillo was compromised.” John shook his head. “He thinks Yuri and Drugoy are after me, and wants me to stay in HQ.”

  “A little late for that,” Wells said.

  Caleb where are you? John texted. I’m on King Street. Come meet me.

  I love you.

  For a long moment, he didn’t think he’d get an answer. Then: This is Deacon. Caleb borrowed my phone earlier and told me to get to HQ. I’m with SPECTR forces now. Don’t know where Caleb is.

  “Deacon? He was the one working with Azarov, right?” Zahira said when John read the message aloud. “Do you think he’s lying?”

  “Hell if I know.” John put the phone back in his pocket in disgust. For a moment, he’d thought he was about to see Caleb and Gray again. Whether he would hug them or yell at them first, he didn’t know, but the ache in his heart was all the more painful for having that instant of hope.

  “Brandon and Mikki made it to HQ,” Karl said, sagging back in the seat.

  Zahira clasped her hands. “Allah be praised.”

  “I’m so glad.” John reached around Zahira to give Karl’s shoulder a quick squeeze. “I know you were worried.”

  “That would be an understatement.” Karl kept scrolling, then stopped. “Oh shit.”

  John and Zahira exchanged a look. “Now what?” he asked, though he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

  Instead of answering directly, Karl passed him the phone. “Brandon forwarded this. I guess someone with a phone managed to get enough of a signal to upload to social media. The time stamp on it is less than twenty minutes ago.”

  The image had clearly been taken through an upstairs window. The caption read Cute goth guy protecting people in #charleston! #earthquake #demonattack.

  “That’s Caleb,” Zahira said, peering over his shoulder.

  John’s throat threatened to close up with emotion. “No. The picture quality is too crappy to make out details, but see the way he’s holding his head? And his posture, like he’s ready to spring into action any second? That isn’t Caleb. It’s Gray.”

  Who the people were with him, John couldn’t guess. A family, or at least they looked to be: the mother trailing a little behind, along with a young boy. Gray held a toddler in one arm; the kid appeared to be trying to eat Gray’s hair. Gray’s head was cocked slightly, gaze directed down to the teenage girl walking beside him. Her mouth was open as though she was talking, and Gray was clearly listening to her with the same complete attention he gave everything he did. As though it was the only important thing in the world at the moment.

  “I was so wrong,” John said softly. “Just before Ericsson shot me, I’d started to put things together. I was scared that maybe Gray and Caleb had thrown in with Yuri and Drugoy. And later, I was scared I’d lost them to bloodlust, and I was just…wrong.”

  “To be fair, Gray and Caleb aren’t exactly innocent in the whole Ericsson thing,” Karl said with a wince.

  True. But whatever the Vigilant had feared, Gray clearly hadn’t gone on a bloody rampage after drinking Ericsson’s blood. Instead, he’d tried to stop Drugoy. And now he was out on the streets, guarding a family of complete strangers.

  John touched the picture gently with one finger. Caleb was a good guy at heart; he knew that. And Gray had always tried his best. If Yuri and Drugoy hadn’t shown up, things would never have gotten to the point they did.

  John took a deep breath. As of twenty minutes ago, at least, Caleb and Gray were alive and on their feet. “Does anyone recognize the house in the background?”

  Zahira shook her head, but Karl took the phone back and peered at it. “Isn’t that on Legare Street? The Huger House, something like that?”

  “I think you’re right. And they’re heading south.” John’s heart quickened. “We’ll come out onto South Battery to the east of them. If we head west—”

  “Maybe we can meet up,” Wells said from the front. “Sounds like a plan. Then what?”

  “Then, with any luck, we can work together and take Yuri and Drugoy down,” John said.

  More than that. He could see Caleb and Gray again. He could tell them he never should have sent them away, that he should have gone with them, or met up later, or something. That he hadn’t known the whole story, and he wanted, more than anything, to try again.

  But that was too private to say aloud. So he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and silently willed the SUV to go faster.

  * * *

  “How are you doing up there, Mr. Gray?” Mrs. Chatwal called up from the driver’s seat of the SPECTR SUV.

  Caleb opened his mouth to correct her, then decided it wasn’t worth the trouble. He perched on the roof, one hand curled around the equipment rack for balance. It had seemed a better position to watch for trouble. This way, he could easily spring in any direction, without opening a door and exposing the Chatwals to more danger than necessary.

  Than necessary. Right.

  Gray hovered just under his skin, ready to emerge the moment they glimpsed a demon. “We cannot abandon them. And we cannot leave Drugoy to destroy the city.”

  I know. Caleb had hoped to find more SPECTR agents to hand the Chatwals over to—assuming any agents didn’t start screaming and run the other way at the very sight of him. But South Battery had been startlingly empty so far. No SPECTR, and no demons, either.

  Maybe they’d beaten Yuri and Drugoy down here. Hell, were Yuri and Dru even coming this way anymore?

  “We’re fine,” Caleb replied. “Can you turn right onto King Street and take us to Murray Boulevard?” The boulevard ran along the water. Maybe Caleb would be able to find a boat or something to load the Chatwals onto, where they might be somewhat safer. Assuming Yuri hadn’t had a chance to pack the harbor with sirens and God only knew what else.

  The vehicle made the turn, moving slowly so as not to dislodge him. Caleb tilted his head back and closed his eyes, taking in great, heaving breaths of air, sifting for any scent that might betray danger. He smelled marsh rot and salt, combined with the damp earth beneath the live oaks of White Point Garden to their left. Faint traces of other scents came with the shifting breeze: the reek of demons, ranging from the decay of ghouls to the rotting roses of a succubus.

  God, he hoped any of the demons who set a lure would stay far away. He didn’t want to have to defend the Chatwals from anything able to turn their own minds against them. Things were hard enough already.

  They reached Murray Boulevard. “Left,” he called down, before Mrs. Chatwal had the chance to ask.

  The sea stretched out on their right, and a median planted with palmettos separated them from White Point Garden. A few cars sat abandoned in their parking spaces, but the road itself was surprisingly clear. Apparently most of the mayhem had been confined north and east of here.

  The scent of earth strengthened from the direction of the park. Warm soil, heated by the sun, but mingled with scorched metal and molten rock. Which wasn’t a smell that should be coming from the Spanish-moss draped trees.

  Drugoy.

  “Go!” Caleb leapt from the roof, shouting over his shoulder as he went. “Floor it! Get out of here, as fast as you can!”

  Wide eyes stared at him—then the tires screamed as Mrs. Chatwal did as he ordered. For an instant, he let himself hope they would get away unscathed. He and Gray would take up all of Drugoy’s attention, who surely wouldn’t spare a thought for the insignificant mortals, and everything would somehow be all right.

  Drugoy stepped out in the road a few hundred yards ahead, from behind a war monument that had concealed him from view. Even from a distance, Caleb saw his grin.

  Then Drugoy dropped to one knee and slammed his hand onto the ground.

  The very earth beneath Caleb’s feet trembled. Cracks raced out from Drugoy, tearing open rifts in all directions. Birds took flight from the live oaks in the park, wings churning the air, gulls shrieking.

  Caleb ran after the SUV, knowing he was too late, praying he wasn’t. The asphalt in front of the tires buckled, heaving the vehicle onto two wheels, and for an instant he thought they might make it after all.

  The pavement erupted into high ridges, heaving the SUV up from underneath. Tires spun on nothing but air, the engine screamed, and the heavy car began to flip backwards with the shrieking family inside.

  Chapter 7

  Gray crosses the distance in a second, his only thought to somehow cushion the impact between steel and concrete. There is a terrible sound of breaking earth and groaning metal, and all he can do is to hold his hands above his head and hope as the front of the SUV crashes down.

  Caleb’s TK surges, cushioning the blow just enough for Gray to guide the vehicle’s descent. Even so, it bears him to the ground. Bones snap and muscles scream, the air stinking of radiator fluid and spilling oil. The SUV comes down hard but upright.

  Gray blinks. He lies on the broken concrete, the hot engine nearly on top of him, the two front wheels deflated from impact. Bones pop back into place, and he twists his head cautiously to one side.

  “Good thing we ate that wendigo.”

  But the wendigo had harmed them, badly enough most of the energy they obtained from it went to repairing the wounds it gave them. These new injuries are healing, but more slowly than they should. A haze of smoke from the airbags fills the air, blinding him temporarily.

  Where is Drugoy?

  The door opens, followed by footsteps, Mrs. Chatwal rushing to them. “Are you all right?”

  The scent of burning metal and heated stone saturates the air. The ground trembles, footfalls impacting the earth with the rumble and force of heavy machinery.

  Drugoy is coming.

  “Run,” he says. “Get the children, and run.”

  She doesn’t argue. Gray’s arms are working again, so he hauls himself out from under the wreck.

  Fear washes through them from Caleb. “Damn it. We need to power up if we’re going to fight Drugoy.”

  Perhaps they can distract Drugoy, lead him on a chase somewhere. Over water, perhaps?

  Doors creak open on bent hinges. Nardev is crying, and his brother hands him out to Mrs. Chatwal. Her face is streaked with powder, cut from flying glass, but she takes the smaller child on her hip and holds out her hand to her older son. On the other side of the SUV, Harry’s door swings open, and she begins to climb out.

  Drugoy’s slim shape appears amidst the thinning smoke.

  “No!” Caleb cries.

  It happens too fast, even for Gray to stop. Drugoy’s arm snakes around Harry’s throat, and he hauls her off her feet. She screams and thrashes, but her strength is nothing compared to that of a drakul. He drags her rapidly away from the SUV and into the clear.

  “This is why mortals make such bad playthings,” he says, cracked-glass gaze fixed on Gray. “They are so terribly fragile, after all.”

  * * *

  Harry lets out another cry of terror. Drugoy gives her a rough shake. “Be silent.” Blood seeps from where his claws dig into her skin, and she falls quiet. Her eyes squeeze shut, tears leaking out, and a wave of rage rolls through Gray at Drugoy’s casual malice.

  “Let her go!” Mrs. Chatwal screams, her other two children clinging to her. Gray motions for her to stay back, sheltered by the wrecked SUV. Then he begins to walk slowly toward Drugoy, his hands held out to each side.

  “The mortal is of no interest to you,” he tells Drugoy.

  “True. But she is of interest to you.” Drugoy’s eyes burn red beneath black glass corneas. “These foolish mortals are your weakness, Gray. I do not know if it is Caleb who convinced you of their worth, but in time you will both come to see we are right.”

  “What does he want?” Caleb asks worriedly. “What’s his plan here? Or Yuri’s?”

  Gray has no answer. The morning wind off the sea stirs their hair, brings with it the cries of the gulls. Otherwise, all is still. “Release her, and we will talk.”

  Harry tears at Drugoy’s grip with her nails, but he ignores her struggles, all his attention fixed on Gray and Caleb. “How did you escape?” he asks. “Did you kill Deacon?”

  “No. He released me.”

  A look of uncertainty flickers over Drugoy’s face, so fast Gray isn’t certain he read it aright. “Deacon has misunderstood. I will correct him later.” Drugoy cocks his head. “Did you like what I made of the city?”

  “I did not.” Every muscle draws tight, but Gray doesn’t see any way to attack Drugoy without risking Harry’s life. “This chaos and death is beneath you. When we hunted together, you were strong and certain, but not cruel. What you have done here serves no purpose.”

  “You are wrong.” Drugoy’s lips draw back in a grin that has no humor, exposing fangs. “It has a great purpose. I spared your life because I believe you can still learn. This,” he gestures at the city with his free hand, “is your lesson. You think to choose these mortals over Yuri and me? Then I will destroy them.”

  Fear from Caleb, threatening to steal their breath. “Oh shit. He wanted to isolate us before, so we wouldn’t have anything but him. That didn’t work, so now he’s just going to slaughter anyone he feels threatened by.”

  “Yuri and I did not wish to do this, Gray,” Drugoy goes on. “You and Caleb left us with no choice. But you have the power to make it stop.”

  “What do you wish us to do?” Gray asks, even knowing there is no good answer.

  “Surrender yourself to me.” Drugoy gestures for them to come closer. Gray takes one step, then two, but stops before drawing within reach. “I will release the mortal. You and I will leave this place far behind. We will go somewhere SPECTR will never find us, with just enough mortals to provide hosts for demons. We will hunt and feed, and it will be glorious. And we will remain until I am certain you’ve learned your lesson.” He pauses. “Of course, if you persist in your foolishness, we will have no choice but to repeat this all over again.”

  The idea of spending years—decades—centuries—with only this monster for company is too horrible to imagine. Of hunting whatever hapless mortals Yuri forces demons into, allowed no pity, no hesitation, for fear Drugoy will do something even worse. For once even Caleb is silent, though Gray can feel his revulsion and terror. It matches his own.

  Tears streak Harry’s face. She opens her eyes and stares at him, pleading. Begging. Mrs. Chatwal crouches by the wrecked SUV, her other two children in her arms, all of them weeping and afraid. Desperate, but believing perhaps that he can save Harry.