Scotland. I’d always thought maybe Threntü had had a little chat with Bram Stoker before he wrote Dracula, but I could never prove anything.
“He left The Loft nearly five years ago.”
I raised an eyebrow at that. Threntü hadn’t left The Loft since the mission in Iran in 32’ when I’d shot him in the leg. It wasn’t my fault that he stepped in front of the sniper rifle I’d set up six hundred yards away. Was it?
“He’s got his fingers in everything, Gabe, you know that. He had a secure facility built in Oregon. State of the art security and technology. He’s got access codes at all the doors, secured gates onto the compound itself and access codes needed to get through the elevator into the lower levels.”
“Those are human security measures,” I pointed out. “What about our kind?”
Ghost grinned at me and turned to a bank of computers behind him. He tapped a few keys and a moment later the screens before him lit up with blueprint schematics and a list of technical information longer than my leg that started to give me a headache after twenty seven seconds of trying to read it. I vaguely noticed Rachel leaning forwards in interest, peering intently at the screens.
“This is where it gets interesting ladies,” Ghost started. I flipped him off for the insult but remained silent as he continued talking. “The Wind Clan has tight security around the perimeter of the compound. Inside there’s an entire pack running the grounds.” He gave me a meaningful look. “All over two hundred years old.”
I started to swear as colorfully as I could, in six or seven different languages. “That might get interesting.”
“What does a wolfs age have to do with anything?” Rachel asked.
“The wolf packs hierarchy is based on age. The older a wolf is the more power they have. Their speed and strength increases over the years and that is also how seniority within the pack is figured out. The oldest living werewolf is the leader of all the packs,” I told her.
She nodded and turned back to the screens.
“All over two hundred years old,” I said to Ghost, going back to the security around Threntüs' compound. “That would make things difficult for us, we’re not going to be able to just muscle our way in this time.”
“Our way?” Ghost said, raising one eyebrow.
“What, you’re not helping me?” I asked.
“Of course I am, I just don’t understand how you could assume that I would help you with something as completely and certifiably insane as a full frontal assault on the wind clan.”
“Because you love to fight and you love to kill. This is a chance to actually fight beings that aren’t as easy to kill as humans. You spent enough time in the Army to know there isn’t a human out there that can challenge you in any physical type of combat. Plus, I never did show you my present that I got you. That could help us a lot with the-”
“Present?” he cut me off.
“Yeah, hang on a sec, dude.” I jumped up and ran down the hall to the room that Ghost had given Rachel and me to use the night before. I hefted up the case, laying it on my shoulder and carried it back down the hall, the weight barely affecting me at all.
“Here you are my old friend,” I said, setting the case down on a nearby table. He looked at me quizzically and came over to open the case. He let out a low whistle of appreciation after looking inside.
The Barrett “Light-Fifty” anti-material rifle. Equipped with an advanced planar scope capable of viewing in night vision and infrared. The fifty caliber rifle was capable of punching a hole through the engine block of a truck and had a kick that would dislocate all but a well-trained humans shoulder. Ghost wouldn’t even notice the recoil.
“You got it with the modified grips?” he asked, a grin rapidly spreading across his face.
“Of course, I knew you wouldn’t care for it if you weren’t able to fire it in either form.”
Ghost didn’t need the rifle,
“He left The Loft nearly five years ago.”
I raised an eyebrow at that. Threntü hadn’t left The Loft since the mission in Iran in 32’ when I’d shot him in the leg. It wasn’t my fault that he stepped in front of the sniper rifle I’d set up six hundred yards away. Was it?
“He’s got his fingers in everything, Gabe, you know that. He had a secure facility built in Oregon. State of the art security and technology. He’s got access codes at all the doors, secured gates onto the compound itself and access codes needed to get through the elevator into the lower levels.”
“Those are human security measures,” I pointed out. “What about our kind?”
Ghost grinned at me and turned to a bank of computers behind him. He tapped a few keys and a moment later the screens before him lit up with blueprint schematics and a list of technical information longer than my leg that started to give me a headache after twenty seven seconds of trying to read it. I vaguely noticed Rachel leaning forwards in interest, peering intently at the screens.
“This is where it gets interesting ladies,” Ghost started. I flipped him off for the insult but remained silent as he continued talking. “The Wind Clan has tight security around the perimeter of the compound. Inside there’s an entire pack running the grounds.” He gave me a meaningful look. “All over two hundred years old.”
I started to swear as colorfully as I could, in six or seven different languages. “That might get interesting.”
“What does a wolfs age have to do with anything?” Rachel asked.
“The wolf packs hierarchy is based on age. The older a wolf is the more power they have. Their speed and strength increases over the years and that is also how seniority within the pack is figured out. The oldest living werewolf is the leader of all the packs,” I told her.
She nodded and turned back to the screens.
“All over two hundred years old,” I said to Ghost, going back to the security around Threntüs' compound. “That would make things difficult for us, we’re not going to be able to just muscle our way in this time.”
“Our way?” Ghost said, raising one eyebrow.
“What, you’re not helping me?” I asked.
“Of course I am, I just don’t understand how you could assume that I would help you with something as completely and certifiably insane as a full frontal assault on the wind clan.”
“Because you love to fight and you love to kill. This is a chance to actually fight beings that aren’t as easy to kill as humans. You spent enough time in the Army to know there isn’t a human out there that can challenge you in any physical type of combat. Plus, I never did show you my present that I got you. That could help us a lot with the-”
“Present?” he cut me off.
“Yeah, hang on a sec, dude.” I jumped up and ran down the hall to the room that Ghost had given Rachel and me to use the night before. I hefted up the case, laying it on my shoulder and carried it back down the hall, the weight barely affecting me at all.
“Here you are my old friend,” I said, setting the case down on a nearby table. He looked at me quizzically and came over to open the case. He let out a low whistle of appreciation after looking inside.
The Barrett “Light-Fifty” anti-material rifle. Equipped with an advanced planar scope capable of viewing in night vision and infrared. The fifty caliber rifle was capable of punching a hole through the engine block of a truck and had a kick that would dislocate all but a well-trained humans shoulder. Ghost wouldn’t even notice the recoil.
“You got it with the modified grips?” he asked, a grin rapidly spreading across his face.
“Of course, I knew you wouldn’t care for it if you weren’t able to fire it in either form.”
Ghost didn’t need the rifle,
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