“That’ll do.” Stricken nodded. “You hear that, Franks? I really only need one of you to cooperate.”
Franks grunted. “So I should shoot Pitt?”
“He’s joking. I think. But if you harm Franks, then you might as well kill me too. Then good luck scrounging up another Chosen in time.”
Stricken grinned and turned to Sonya. “See, kid? Now that’s how you bargain.”
“You mind if I call my wife to tell her where we all vanished to?” So that Julie could send in the cavalry.
“Aw, you two have such a wholesome and caring relationship, it makes me want to barf . . . but your phone won’t work in here. We’ve got a jammer on this site.”
“Mr. Stricken.” One of the white guys walked up next to his superior. His guns were newer and his kit was fancier. His accent suggested East Texas. “We’ve got a problem, sir.”
“What is it?”
“The VIPs still want to meet at sunrise, but we’ve spotted some tangos poking around the perimeter.”
“Cultists?”
“Looks like it.” That one had to be Unicorn alumnus who’d stayed loyal to the old boss, which meant he was either a human handler, or something else that could pass for human. “We don’t know if they’re with the Old Ones or Asag though.”
That made me perk right up. Both of those wanted me dead. “What’s this got to do with Asag?”
“Those factions hate each other more than they hate us. They’re at war. That’s what’s actually going on out in the jungle. That’s the main reason Asag has been too busy to step on you. If either of them win this particular battle, mankind loses.”
I glanced at Franks, but from the grim look on his big flat face, he was still trying to decide if he could kill Stricken before he was shot to pieces. Having seen Franks in action, the answer was more than likely yes, and the fact that he hadn’t done so yet meant that he was weighing Stricken’s words. Franks was big on never failing a mission and killing Stricken was a mission. However, protecting mankind from the forces of ultimate evil was also his mission. I figured saving a few million lives outranked ending one really odious one. But most importantly, the MCB’s primary mission was keeping monsters secret from most of mankind. It was their vaunted First Reason, because they truly believed that the more regular people know about the supernatural, the more powerful the supernatural would become, until our world was doomed. From what Coslow had said earlier, if this came to pass, it would be catastrophic enough that even the best bullshit artists at the MCB might not be able to cover it up.
Conflicting missions was probably going to confuse Franks, and a confused Franks was more dangerous than a regular Franks, so I said to him, “You cool with this, Franks?”
“Yeah,” he growled, but I wasn’t sure I believed him. Clearly, the men prepared to shoot him didn’t either.
The man from Texas wasn’t done with his warning. “We tried to bag one of the cultists for interrogation, but they disappeared back into the crowd. The way they knew this area, they’ve got to be locals.”
“Thank you, Mr. Curtis,” Stricken said. “So you think they know we’ve been hiding here?”
“We’ve tried to keep a low profile, but probably. Should we scratch the mission, sir?”
“No. Time isn’t on our side and I’ve already wasted too much as it is getting these clowns assembled. Don’t tell the VIPs’ security detail anything either. I don’t want to scare them off. If the cult makes a move against us, we’ll deal with them, but having their lives threatened will just demonstrate to them how much they need us . . . ” Stricken started walking away. “Alright, everybody, get freshened up so we look presentable when we meet the rest of our illustrious alliance.”
The succubus hopped off the truck hood and followed Stricken. She winked at Franks as she passed him. “You’re not going to want to miss this, Franks. Trust me.”
“Who’re we meeting?” Franks demanded.
“I’m not about to ruin the surprise,” Stricken said. “Our convoy leaves in ten.”
Sonya whispered to me. “This guy is a real piece of work.”
She had no idea.
Chapter 25
I used one of the filthy bathrooms to clean up. I took my helmet off and my hair was damp with sweat, salt in my eyes. My hands were shaking from coming off the adrenaline rush. I was covered in grit and sticky blood, a lot of which I wasn’t even sure who I’d gotten it from. I splashed some water on my face from the sink. I was dying of thirst. I’d not worn my CamelBak to save weight—I hadn’t thought I’d need it fighting in our own backyard—but since the water turned out to be kind of rust-colored and smelled funny, I didn’t dare drink any of it. Everything hurt. I really wanted to take my armor off and check the burns from the Drekavac’s bullets, but since there were a bunch of armed guards still watching me, that struck me as a bad idea.
True to his word, Stricken let us keep our weapons, which was really surprising. I’d seen Franks in action. If he wanted to kill every man here, he could probably do it without getting hurt too badly. I half expected to come out of the washroom to find a pile of dismembered bodies and Franks picking through them for replacement organs for any of his that had gotten shot in the process, but the garage was the same as before.
Thankfully, there was a cooler full of bottled waters that hopefully hadn’t been filled out of the local tap, so I grabbed one. With the guards watching me carefully, I walked up to Franks so we could speak quietly. Nobody tried to stop me. “You’re being awfully cooperative.”
“I got reasons.”
“You mean orders.”
Franks just raised an eyebrow, but the way he did it told me that he hadn’t misspoke.
“Wait. You’re going along with Stricken’s
