The Endangered (11 page)

Chapter 14

I’ve been wrestling with my feelings for Catch and he’s picked up on my avoidance. To his credit, he tries to give me space, but it is hard to do under the same roof. We often engage in awkward small talk until we can’t stand it and find an excuse to run off. Things have changed since it was just the two of us. Now he is playing a part of a soldier and our dynamic has shifted noticeably. The honeymoon is over.

Tonight, much to my relief, he is sent on an assignment that will keep him on the road for a few days.

As the sun sets I take to the grounds. There are miles of paths stretching around the woods. Aside from the occasional bird cry, the woods are eerily silent. I opt to break the silence with Jiro’s iPod.

Jogging along, absorbed in the music, I am startled by a sudden presence at my side. It is Crina.

“Hey there.” She is wearing a black track suit and silver sneakers. I slow my pace and remove the headset. “You’re learning your way around okay? You know the jogging thing is kind of unnecessary, right?” she inquires.

“Yeah, old habits die hard. And mostly just exploring the paths around the estate. How many acres are we on?”

“50. 100. I’d be guessing. Takes a lot of security to keep it under watch.”

“Are there cameras all around here?” I look around.

“Surveillance is pretty thorough. Heaviest by the gates and doorways. Motion detectors line the entire perimeter.”

I nod.

“So watch where you venture.” She smiles. “Hey, how would you like to go out and see the city?”

“I’d love to.” Excitedly, I say, “This place is great and all, but I could use a change of scenery.”

“I’ve got an assignment in Bristol. I’m headed out in a couple hours to take care of him. Why don’t you join me?”

“An assignment? Am I even authorized yet?”

“You are if I say you are. It’s okay. Besides, you’ll just be observing. No field work,” Crina assures me.

I shrug. “Count me in then.”

“Good. Meet me outside the stables at twenty-one hundred hours.”

“The stables?”

“Building on the northeast side of the property. We’ve converted it into a garage.” Crina points at the NYU letters embroidered on my hoodie. “And don’t wear that. We’ll just have to go shopping while we’re out.” She takes off for the mansion.

I stand wondering what just transpired.

Is she testing me? Probably. Warm and friendly isn’t her forte. What’s with this change of heart? Has to be a test.

Only one way to know for certain.

***

I arrive at the stables at 2100 hours exactly. I’m dressed in black head to toe, complete with a pair of cargo pants that seem to be all the rave around here. A switchblade, a gift from Catch, is my lone accessory. I envision it discreetly hidden in my knee-high, black leather boots. If we really are going shopping, those rank high on my priority list. I feel I should be more prepared, but there is nothing else I possess that I imagine will be of any use.

As I approach, one of the stable doors swings open and a little cherry coupe with tinted windows pulls out. Crina is in the driver’s seat. I slide in shotgun and we speed off.

“Nice wheels,” I compliment.

“Do you have a comm?” She indicates the piece in her ear.

“No. Should I?”

“I’ll have Jiro give you one.”

Jiro and I had been bonding some in the operations room lately. He was a rogue who reached out to Marcus after the firestorm. His knowledge of computers, technology, and engineering has proved a huge asset. Brilliant didn’t cover it.

He is paralyzed from the waist down; he’d been involved in a blast while fighting in World War II and lost use of his legs. He paid a vampire to turn him as an experiment. He hoped the regenerative powers of the demon blood would repair his shattered spine.

Sadly, no such luck. Any physical disability incurred prior to death, to turning, was not mystically healed. A debilitating disease on the other hand would be rendered dormant by the body’s death. Or flushed out with the transformation. Jiro has a pair of bionic legs he can use to walk around, but they have to be operated by hand controls. They are slow and clumsy and I rarely see him in them.

Jiro is Japanese and fluent in multiple languages; dead or alive, there is no language this guy can’t master. This twenty-something with an affinity for neon hair dye and video games is gifted. And that is an understatement.

Xan assisted in his journey to England and it is my understanding that Jiro hasn’t left the castle since his arrival a few decades back. He shares Xan’s passion for invention. They bonded instantly. Watching the two putt around the tech room, fiddling with gadgets, finishing each other’s sentences, debating algorithms was equally as cute as it was nauseating.

His ingenuity brought us comms that allowed him to beep in with intel updates, and allowed us to communicate with base. They also doubled as tracking devices; apparently one was not enough.

Crina explains all this to me on our little road trip. I have questions, but this doesn’t seem like the time. Crina keeps checking her GPS screen and occasionally throws in tidbits about the region. I listen politely, taking it all in, trying to read her mannerisms.

“Who is the target?”

“Man, middle aged, lives alone in a house he got in a settlement with his ex-wife. He has recently been identified as the assailant in several attacks around town.”

“Werewolf, right?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Is he working for someone?”

“Not directly, at least I couldn’t connect him to anyone, but he’s aware of the cause and is making his own contributions toward the war.”

“He’s turned others?”

“Infected. Yes. He’s bitten several but leaves them fairly mangled. And vulnerable. I’ve taken them out. It’s how I’ve come to determine him the common denominator. We often target wolves acting independently because they are the most vulnerable. It stops them from forming their own pack and it won’t typically attract retaliation from an existing pack…Though if it does, we’re more than happy to deal.”

“Makes sense.”

“Catch tell you how many we’ve lost?”

“In the fire?”

“No. Since. After the attack, Adrian surfaced. He had not been in The Covenant when it burned. No one had seen or heard from him in over a century. When he did emerge, it was at Marcus’s request. Marcus wanted revenge and Adrian permitted Marcus to turn who he saw fit. To begin anew.

“And he did. For a good decade. But they were untrained, novice fighters and fell fast. We didn’t have good artillery. Or strategy. We’d go in blind and get mauled, often underestimating their numbers.

“Adrian was infuriated with Marcus’s reckless actions, his ‘abuse of power.’ Marcus is no longer permitted to turn, to pass his lineage. Pollute it, as Adrian accused.    

“That’s when Xan went to Japan to retrieve Jiro, who eagerly stepped in to help. Shifted our focus to technology, to intel and weaponry. We’ve been doing a lot better since.”

“What are their motives?”

“Control. Power. World dominance. Your typical ambitions. What they want are humans. We’re just standing in their way.”

***

We park at the end of the street. According to Crina’s GPS, the werewolf is residing about seven houses down to the left. Crina pops the trunk and removes a long thin bag, which she throws across her back like a bow sling.

The neighborhood is quiet. A dog barks in the distance. We are in the suburbs of Bristol, walking down a sidewalk weakly diffused by dirty street lights. We approach casually, casing the neighborhood for signs of life.

Crina stops, breaks the silence.

“That’s it. Across the street. Glance over casually.”

“Several lights on downstairs,” I confirmed. “Someone’s home. Does he live with anyone?”

“No. Alone.”

I whisper, “So how do you get this intel? Jiro? Other sources?”

She smiles coyly.

“Xan and Jiro assist during major takedowns or anytime an extra set of eyes and ears are necessary. We are responsible for the hunt. Once we identify a wolf we look into their background, tail them, place bugs…all sorts of ways to learn about them. We learn what we can from the wolf, but ultimately the goal is to keep him from spreading his…condition. You want to do it without witnesses. Discretion is key.

“If it’s a pack, you want to catch them in the act, while they are distracted. Right now, in the woods somewhere, there’s a pack of wolves chasing their next victim. There’s some poor sap getting bit in a crowded club. There’s any number of scenarios. Every night we take one down and a dozen more are infected. It’s a losing battle. But we keep at it in hopes that we’ll find a bigger lead.”

“Cut off the head before it grows any more tails.”

“Yeah exactly.”

“Any clue who’s at the head?”

“There was a man a few decades back. He was young, naïve, and wild as they come. He formed a pack and mounted an attack on a clan of vampires. It was the first time in recent history that the wolves came after us. It was an offensive move as to my knowledge we weren’t hunting them at the time. I was part of the clan that defeated them. If we hadn’t killed him and his followers back then, I would link it to him. Then again, this time they aren’t directly going after our throats; it’s the humans they are targeting. So no, while this reminds me of that attack, it can’t be the same wolf at the helm.”

We reach the end of the street, then cut back through neighbor’s yards, weaving around shrubbery and sticking to the shadows. Eventually we end up on the roof of the house directly across from the target’s.

She continues as she unpacks her bag.

“You go after a target, you want to know everything you can…did he shatter his knee in a car accident? Deaf in one ear? Severe allergies? Any weakness you can exploit could prove key to your success. Make the job that much easier. ’Cause at the end of the day you’re left with a dead body. And as I’m sure Catch told you, we cannot risk exposure. No trail. Certainly nothing as telling as bite marks.”

She hands me a scope. I look at her quizzically.

“Did Xan teach you nothing? Infrared monocular. Detects heat signatures. Just tell me if you spot him.”

I oblige.

“So what’s this guy’s story?”

“Rogue as far as I can tell. But it’s just a matter of time before a pack gets to him or he starts one in Bristol. This city has been quiet and I aim to keep it that way.”

“I think I got something. He’s in the back.”

I watch as Crina removes a sniper rifle, loads it and attaches a suppressor.

“Xan show you how to use one of these?”

“Yes. And he emphasized the need for using a suppressor in public.”

“Good. That’s something at least.”

She gestures for the monocular and snaps it neatly onto the rifle.

“Locked and loaded,” she says, making some adjustments.

‘So we wait till you get a clear shot?”

“Well I’m thinking of something a little more…efficient.”

“Like throwing a rock at the window?”

“Close…Whaddya say you go down and knock on the door?”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, say you were mugged on the street. You need to use his phone to call the cops. When he comes to the door, I’ll have a perfect shot. Bam. Piece of cake.”

“Sounds simple enough. I’m in.”

No sooner had I said that then she lands a right hook square on my jaw.

I stumble backward, but somehow manage to stay on my feet.

“What the hell!”

My hand goes from the cut on my lip to Crina.

“It has to look believable. You have to look like you were really attacked. Relax, it’ll heal fast.”

“Give a girl some warning, damn.”

I spit blood on the roof.

“Figured it’d be easier if you weren’t prepared. You’re already healing.”

I crack my neck. “Okay, go ahead, throw another.”

She obliges. This one lands on my nose.

I pinch my nostrils in pain, blood oozing from between my fingers.

“You all right?”

“Yeah, yeah. Stings a bit.”

“Well hurry up before you heal. And calm down already; he can’t see your fangs.”

I drop down and cross over to his house and knock quickly, not allowing myself time to think about what I am doing, to think about turning back. Though panicking would have helped my story.

A tall, broad man of about forty opens the door.

“I—Help—I was mugged!” I stammer.

He regards me with a confused look, then something in his expression changes.

“What? You were, uh—mugged?”

He watches blood trickle down my face with hungry eyes. Nostrils flare.

“He hit me and grabbed my bag.”

I continue with the farce, holding my nose, trying to sell it, wondering why Crina hasn’t taken the shot. She is positioned to the left of the house. I am standing back from him and to the right, allowing her an opening. Though I got the impression she’d shoot through me without a second thought.