you want somebody else to bleed on your behalf.”
“You’ve got me all wrong.” Stricken clucked disapprovingly and shook his head with theatrical sadness. “As one professional to another, I’ll level with you. This isn’t one of mine, but it was one of the task force’s teams that responded to investigate. Intel said this should’ve been a cakewalk, turned out it wasn’t. That team has gone missing.”
“Surprised you care.”
“There’re always more things looking for a PUFF exemption to replace them.” He shrugged. “But I do hate losing valuable assets, especially pretty redheads.”
The metal in Earl’s hands snapped in two.
“See you around, Earl. Enjoy your conference.” Stricken reached toward the camera. The screen went black.
“No!” Earl stood, flinging one hand outward and sending four chairs clattering across the room. “Son of a bitch!”
A picture appeared on the TV screen. Three figures were walking down the lowered back ramp of a gray C-130 cargo plane. Behind them was a high desert scene, brown sagebrush dusted with dirty snow. They were dressed in multicam and combat gear, carrying rifles. There were two men in front and an attractive woman in back. Her red hair was rather striking in a shot so filled with bland, dusty colors.
“Heather…” Earl whispered. He walked forward, as if in a daze, staring at the TV screen. After a few seconds, the picture disappeared and the TV changed to silent static. “Damn it!” Earl smashed his fist into the TV and knocked it flying from its stand to explode into pieces against the far wall. Earl stood there, back to us, shoulders hunched, fists clenched.
“Earl?” Cody asked. “You okay?”
“Team leads, collect your men. We’re going hunting,” he snapped. “Move out.”
The team leads obeyed and immediately hurried from the room. I stuck around. The team leads had all been briefed on his condition, but they hadn’t seen it up close like I had. Earl was breathing hard, head down, staring at the broken TV. I’d seen him change before. I recognized the signs. I could feel the energy in the air. Stricken had enraged him so suddenly that it had provoked the beast within…
I reached to the compact STI .45 that was concealed in a tuckable holster on my belt. We both knew the drill. Earl was squared away, more so than any other werewolf, but letting a werewolf change inside a place crowded with innocents was simply unthinkable. I didn’t want to shoot my friend, didn’t think I’d need to, but those were his orders, and I wasn’t going to take any chances. Come on, Earl. “You okay?” I asked after a few seconds.
He turned around. His respiration had slowed. His eyes were the normal blue rather than the dangerous gold. Earl turned, in control again, dragged a shard of glass out from between his knuckles, and tossed it on the carpet. “Will be, as soon as I snap Stricken’s neck. Let’s get to the airport.”
Chapter 6
Our Mi-24 Hind screamed over the Nevada desert, the ground a dark brown blur beneath us. The pilot’s area was separated from the passenger compartment, so I had no way of looking at Skippy’s instrumentation to guess just how stupidly fast we were flying, but I could tell you this: we were going really fast. All orcs were supernaturally good at something. Skippy’s particular gift was breaking the laws of physics with a helicopter.
Those of us on Harbinger’s team had spent a lot of hours in the Hind, but none of us had ever been aboard with Skippy pushing it like this before. Earl had told Skippy that there was a race, and it was very important that we win this particular race, so Skippy had cranked the stereo to eleven, put on some heavy metal, and kicked our chopper in the butt, dedicated to not bring dishonor to MHI.
“Is it supposed to rattle like that?” Trip asked through clenched teeth.
“Washing machines don’t rattle this much. What do you think?”
Milo was sitting across from me and
“You’ve got me all wrong.” Stricken clucked disapprovingly and shook his head with theatrical sadness. “As one professional to another, I’ll level with you. This isn’t one of mine, but it was one of the task force’s teams that responded to investigate. Intel said this should’ve been a cakewalk, turned out it wasn’t. That team has gone missing.”
“Surprised you care.”
“There’re always more things looking for a PUFF exemption to replace them.” He shrugged. “But I do hate losing valuable assets, especially pretty redheads.”
The metal in Earl’s hands snapped in two.
“See you around, Earl. Enjoy your conference.” Stricken reached toward the camera. The screen went black.
“No!” Earl stood, flinging one hand outward and sending four chairs clattering across the room. “Son of a bitch!”
A picture appeared on the TV screen. Three figures were walking down the lowered back ramp of a gray C-130 cargo plane. Behind them was a high desert scene, brown sagebrush dusted with dirty snow. They were dressed in multicam and combat gear, carrying rifles. There were two men in front and an attractive woman in back. Her red hair was rather striking in a shot so filled with bland, dusty colors.
“Heather…” Earl whispered. He walked forward, as if in a daze, staring at the TV screen. After a few seconds, the picture disappeared and the TV changed to silent static. “Damn it!” Earl smashed his fist into the TV and knocked it flying from its stand to explode into pieces against the far wall. Earl stood there, back to us, shoulders hunched, fists clenched.
“Earl?” Cody asked. “You okay?”
“Team leads, collect your men. We’re going hunting,” he snapped. “Move out.”
The team leads obeyed and immediately hurried from the room. I stuck around. The team leads had all been briefed on his condition, but they hadn’t seen it up close like I had. Earl was breathing hard, head down, staring at the broken TV. I’d seen him change before. I recognized the signs. I could feel the energy in the air. Stricken had enraged him so suddenly that it had provoked the beast within…
I reached to the compact STI .45 that was concealed in a tuckable holster on my belt. We both knew the drill. Earl was squared away, more so than any other werewolf, but letting a werewolf change inside a place crowded with innocents was simply unthinkable. I didn’t want to shoot my friend, didn’t think I’d need to, but those were his orders, and I wasn’t going to take any chances. Come on, Earl. “You okay?” I asked after a few seconds.
He turned around. His respiration had slowed. His eyes were the normal blue rather than the dangerous gold. Earl turned, in control again, dragged a shard of glass out from between his knuckles, and tossed it on the carpet. “Will be, as soon as I snap Stricken’s neck. Let’s get to the airport.”
Chapter 6
Our Mi-24 Hind screamed over the Nevada desert, the ground a dark brown blur beneath us. The pilot’s area was separated from the passenger compartment, so I had no way of looking at Skippy’s instrumentation to guess just how stupidly fast we were flying, but I could tell you this: we were going really fast. All orcs were supernaturally good at something. Skippy’s particular gift was breaking the laws of physics with a helicopter.
Those of us on Harbinger’s team had spent a lot of hours in the Hind, but none of us had ever been aboard with Skippy pushing it like this before. Earl had told Skippy that there was a race, and it was very important that we win this particular race, so Skippy had cranked the stereo to eleven, put on some heavy metal, and kicked our chopper in the butt, dedicated to not bring dishonor to MHI.
“Is it supposed to rattle like that?” Trip asked through clenched teeth.
“Washing machines don’t rattle this much. What do you think?”
Milo was sitting across from me and
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