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 facedown 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.
