A tire caught, they started forward, and then they were gaining traction and speed. Horst began to laugh, but it turned into a shriek as one of the monsters landed on the hood. He was wearing a black armor suit and had a short rifle slung across his chest, though the thing seemed totally unaware of the fact it possessed a gun at all. Most of the face was missing except for a long strip of scalp dangling across the bright red skull. He still had both eyes, only they were impossibly wide, milky-white, and utterly dead. The thing opened a mouth full of long, pointy teeth but made no sound. The half-werewolf slammed a gloved fist into the windshield, shattering it right between the front seats and obscuring their view.
“Mosher!” Stark shouted. He leaned forward and stuck his pistol between Horst and Lins. He cranked off at least half a dozen deafening shots before the thing disappeared from the hood.
“What’s a Mosher?” Lins cried.
“My partner.” Stark was panting. “ Was my partner. He already changed into one of them! Infection to transformation in seconds; death followed by almost instantaneous reanimation…Oh, this is bad. This is bad.”
They were on the road. Horst checked his mirror. The monsters were running along behind, and they were keeping up. The first man that had come out of the hospital was convulsing and twitching on the ground. A second later, he popped up and ran after the rest of the pack.
Chapter 23
We were in a supposedly safe area, farther to the south. It was an actual town, with paved roads and everything. I couldn’t pronounce the name to save my life. Van had mocked me, and done a pretty good imitation of my accent in the process. There were a hundred marines stationed next door, so it was about as secure as we’d been in months. Unicorn was relaxed.
We’d picked an evacuated two-story hotel to stay in while awaiting new orders. It was ratty, but sleeping under a roof was a big improvement. As usual, the two squads had been broken up, with first being downstairs and us upstairs. It was rather silly at this point, because most of first had seen Travis, and as Destroyer pointed out to Conover, even when Travis was in “disguise” under a big blanket with eye holes cut out, he left giant hoofprints everywhere he went. But orders were orders, and Travis was honor-bound to impress the government enough to get his tribe taken off the PUFF list. Bullmen were big on the whole honor thing. I’d come to love the big shaggy goofball.
Despite Sharon’s protests about average human males, I’d often caught her batting those big eyes at Conover. They’d been spending a lot of time alone together, and the scents didn’t lie. He was a good-looking man, and unlike many of the people I’d gotten stuck serving under, I actually had a lot of respect for him. Half-siren or not, she could do a whole lot worse. Conover was a rising star in the intelligence community; for all I knew, he was just seeing if they wanted to keep working together. Uh-huh…My commanding officer had hooked up with our love- goddess. I was willing to bet that didn’t make it into the official report.
Travis and I were talking that night. I had asked if he was offended that humans ate beef. He thought that was stupid, and asked if I would be offended if he ate a monkey. That of course led into an interesting discussion on theology, since I figured I had no particular relation to monkeys. I ended up asking about the biology of the Bullmen, particularly their females. Okay, so if they’re like a half-girl, half-cow…the whole udder thing? How’s that translate over? Up high like on a human, or down low, and if so how would they walk? And are we talking two or four? Travis had told me that I needed to head out to Texas for a visit, and that if I called his girlfriend a heifer at any point, he would be honor bound to duel me to the death.
We’d had a lot of conversations like that. Travis was like a younger brother to me. A giant, monstrous, berserker younger brother, but you get the idea. He kept score. He said that I’d saved his live seven times. He’d only saved mine twice. He said that he would never rest until we were even. Bullmen are odd like that.
It hurts to remember what happened next. The first memory is clear, the rest not so much. I remember how it began, and I remember how it ended. Rok’hasna’wrath took much of the rest.
It began with an explosion.
I found out later that it had been a truck bomb. Several tons of explosives detonated between us and the Marine encampment. One moment I was playing cards with the Bullman, and the next the hotel collapsed on top of us.
Heather was just glad to get out of the Alpha’s home. The place had reeked of him, and those bones had filled her with a terrible dread. It was like they were looking at her, angry, and declaring that she wasn’t worthy. Harbinger was a few steps ahead, slipping and sliding his way down the icy steps.
He’d been so graceful earlier, it was a shame that now Harbinger was so slow, weak, and human. He was still a remarkable man, though. And if she’d met him in other circumstances, she might have been interested in getting to know him better.
Heather sucked at dating. Her track record was dismal. She knew she was one of the prettier girls around Copper Lake, but she’d had zero luck meeting anyone decent. She’d even tried Internet dating for a while, but had just felt dumb and lonely paying money to meet bozos from the next town over and had given up.
She’d not met anyone like Earl Harbinger before. Not that she would have thought to tell eHarmony to match her up with a chain-smoking Southern monster hunter. He had an iron will, but at the same time he was still a gentlemen. Plus, he wasn’t bad looking. Though he was wearing bulky armor, she could sense the muscles of his legs tighten as he tried to find his balance. Even if he wasn’t a werewolf, he was still strong. She could totally mate with that.
Mate? Who actually used the word mate? Heather stopped herself. She was actually lusting after Harbinger. What the hell? Focus, girl. Psycho werewolf chick or not. I’ve got standards. She shook her head to clear it. It was just like he’d warned her. Fight the random impulses, stay calm, don’t eat anybody, don’t eat your dog, and don’t rip anyone’s clothes off. I can do this. She took a deep breath. He’s got to at least buy me dinner first.
“You get anything from the journal yet?” Harbinger shouted at Aino as they reached the trucks. Aino started to respond, but Heather couldn’t hear the rest because of the terrible humming noise that suddenly slammed into her head.
Hands clamped over her ears, she cried out as she went to her knees. It was like that background hum she’d been hearing all night, only a thousand times worse. Pain like a railroad spike pierced her skull. The sound was killing her.
Harbinger grabbed her by the coat and held her upright. “What’s wrong?”
She tried to answer, but her jaw hurt too much to form words. Maybe she screamed; she couldn’t tell. Heather grabbed the straps on the front of Harbinger’s armor and clung to him. The pain got worse, radiating from her head down her spine and from there out to her bones. Something cracked inside her as a joint realigned, and this time she knew for sure that she screamed.
Harbinger’s mouth was moving. He was yelling orders. She focused on her hands, curled around the fabric pouches on his chest. Blood was coming from around her fingernails. The pain moved down her face to her teeth. Closing her eyes tight, she tried to make it through the pain, but beyond the pain was terror, and the pain actually felt better than the terror.
When she opened her eyes, the world had changed. Colors were different, faded. Only life and shadows to hide in stood out. She could see the blood pumping in Harbinger’s neck, and she wanted nothing more than to reach up and set it free. He was still shouting. “You, pop the tailgate on my truck. Unlatch the big stainless box. Move!” He turned back to her. “Come on, Kerkonen. This way. Hang in there.”
“What’s wrong with her eyes?” The voice sounded too slow, like when you play a video at half speed. The action of a gun was worked. “They’re yellow. She’s one of them.”
“Calm down,” Harbinger said, and it seemed to take forever. “Get out of my way.”
“Shoot her!”
At some point, in addition to the pain in her bones, she must have caught on fire. Her hands were burning. Instinctively, she jerked them away from Harbinger. Bewildered, she watched them, turning them from back to palm. They weren’t on fire at all, but her fingernails were so long. She bit her nails. It was a terrible habit, so she’d never had nice nails before. Too bad they were on fire and bleeding.
