controllable form of transportation.
Jensen’s first inkling that his evening was going awry was when claws sank into his back. He let out a rather girl-like scream and swerved so badly he nearly ran into traffic.
“What the hell?” he shouted as the claws climbed up his back. He started to pull over and was thoroughly raked for his troubles, the claws, which had now sunk into his neck, pulling him from side to side. They stopped when he was pedaling, so he just hunkered down and hoped for the best.
When he came to Hawthorne Street he started to make a turn and was clawed again. Clearly, whatever demon was on his back wanted him to go straight.
He kept pedaling. After a couple more rakes he pedaled faster.
“Nice setup,” Kurt said. “I’d wondered about what was in the bag.”
“This’ll cut it,” Barb said, drawing the katana.
“Okay, yeah,” Kurt said. “It will and, yeah, it is blasphemy.”
“And while you get the boat ready, I will start rigging up.”
“Just keep your weight centered,” Kurt said as Barb carefully boarded the quad scull. “I got the biggest boat I could manage on my own, but all that weight is going to be an issue.”
“I’m not fat,” Barb said. “And I have excellent balance.”
“It’s not your weight,” Kurt said. “It’s the body armor, rifle, pistol, sword and ammo that’s the issue.”
Barb carefully took a seat as Kurt pulled away from the dock.
“As soon as we hit the shore you are out of here,” Barb said, clipping a radio onto his belt. “I brought you a spare tac set. I’m on four-one-five-eight. It’s encrypt…Oh… drat.”
“What now?” Kurt asked.
“I really should have made this call before we pulled out,” she said. She reached for her phone and hit Send.
“Phoning a friend?” Kurt asked.
“Something like that,” Barb answered.
“Marquez.”
“I’m pretty sure whatever ‘it’ is is going down,” Barb said. “McLellan Island. Do not fall for feminine wiles. They’re Stepfords.”
“Now?”
“If you please,” Barb said. “The only way to get there is by boat or rappelling off the Veterans Bridge. Which would be pretty noticeable. When you get there, I’m on four-one-five-eight.”
“Four-one-five-eight, aye. Ten mikes. Out here.”
“Who was that?” Kurt asked.
“The mystic version of HRT,” Barb said.
“Is that who you’ve been secretly meeting with?” Kurt asked.
“Yep,” Barb said. “And I’m secretly glad they’re here. I think this is going to get real interesting.”
“We’ll have to insert off the Veterans Bridge,” Friar Mills said. Shaun Mills was redheaded and still somewhat prone to the anger management issues that his former demons had used to great effect. With a mis-set nose and scarred knuckles, he looked like what he had once been; a street hooligan and thug for the Irish mob. “Rather public. We’d best be activating a wee diversion.”
“I really had hoped not to have to use this,” Brother Marquez said, sending a text. “Get the team ready for abseil insertion.”
“Should be a lark.”
“Torquemada,” Brother JD “Homer” Hughes said. “That’s the code.”
“I sincerely hope that the Holy See can cover us on this,” Friar Jackob Okai said, pressing the detonator. In the distance there was a dull boom.
“They provided much of the funding for building the plant,” Brother Hughes replied. “What’s one Passat more or less?”
Sergeant Alex Teach looked up from his alana rus at the “all units” ping on his computer and shook his head.
The code 8000 was for an explosion. Location: the new Volkswagen plant. Secondary codes indicated possible terrorism. New codes started popping up, indicating that the explosion was in the finished vehicle parking area.
“Car bomb,” he said, stuffing the rest of the sandwich in his face and hitting the blue lights. “Ap a car p’anp. Gre’ph. There goes my night.”
“You’re going to have to go over the side,” Kurt said. “You can’t really land one of these things. Carefully.”
“Got it,” Barb said, counterbalancing to enter the water. It was only up to her hips. “Now git.”
“Hazmat,” Kurt muttered. “Hazmat. I need to provide some cover for this anyway. Not sure what to say.”
“Call Garson and tell him to keep everything away from McLellan Island.”
Kurt’s phone started beeping urgently and he pulled it out to look.
“That shouldn’t be too hard,” Kurt said. “There’s apparently been a terrorist attack at the VW plant. A car bomb. At a car plant. Everybody and their brother is headed that way.”
“Funny coincidence,” Barb said, wading ashore. “You probably should head up to the bridge just in case anyone bothers to pay attention to oddities on the island.”
“What if something happens to you?” Kurt asked.
Barb locked and loaded her AR-10, then did the same with her Heckler and Koch. 45.
“I’m what happens to other people, Kurt.”
CHAPTER TEN
Barb ghosted through the heavy brush of the island towards the eastern tip where they’d seen the boats gathering. The island was an Audubon preserve, based on the really clear “No Trespassing” signs. She felt oddly perturbed that, in addition to black magic, the girls were violating a nature preserve. All things considered, it was minor, but irritating nonetheless.
In the twilight she could see that a fire had been lit, and hoped that she wasn’t, for the second time, overreacting. The whole Lazarus thing was a good reminder that she might be a warrior of God but not a perfect one. This time, however, she could feel currents of power being used. Something mystic was happening on the island and it certainly didn’t feel godly.
Sliding up through the undergrowth, she used her Trijicon tactical scope to observe for just a moment. As advertised, the small clearing was filled with naked girls. They were not, however, skinny-dipping, but clearly engaged in some sort of ritual. The ritual appeared to be a complex dance, possibly on the lines of the Trilobular pattern. At the center of the pattern was a small stone altar surrounded by fire.
Circling the girls were a collection of mostly young men standing stiff and still. Barb, from her range, couldn’t tell if they were simply held-glamoured was the usual term-or had been soul-drained.
“Dei,” Barb whispered into her tac set.
“Go,” Marquez replied.
“Just west of the bridge,” Barb said. “You’ll see it from up there. The girls are the targets. Stepfords or something similar. High regen. Resistant to penetration…”
Barb was slammed forward by what felt like a lightning bolt right in the kidneys. The pain was blinding, but
