Cool Hand

Cool Hand

An Amber Farrell Novel

Book 4 of the Bite Back series

by

Mark Henwick

Published by
Marque

Series schedule, reviews & news on

www.athanate.com

Bite Back 4 : Cool Hand

ISBN: 978-0-9928240-0-6

Published in February 2015 by Marque

Mark Henwick asserts the right to be identified as the author of this work.

© 2015 Mark Henwick

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any form or by any means—graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, Web distribution or information storage retrieval systems—without the written permission of the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. The names, characters and events portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, legal entities, incidents or localities is entirely coincidental. The laws of physics, chemistry, biology and psychology may not work as depicted. It’s probably not much good for bus timetables either.

"Sometimes, nothing can be a real cool hand."

Paul Newman as
Luke Jackson
in
Cool Hand Luke
.

WEDNESDAY NIGHT

“If you don’t believe your whole life has been a path leading to this one point, you’re not focused enough.”

That had been Top, while I was training in Ops 4-10.

But he’d also said:
“You’re every second of training we’ve hardwired into you. Focus on the big picture and your instincts will handle the rest.”

What happened if my instincts led me down the wrong path?

It was just after midnight. I was burrowed into a thick layer of snow, peering through a gap in a field of winter wheat, scoping out the hideout of the last remaining Matlal Athanate in Denver. Or rather, an hour east of Denver in a remote location on the high plains—one reason why the place had been so tough to find.

In fact, I wasn’t the one who’d found it. It was Nick Gray, the skinwalker, who’d sent me the intel. I was grateful, but also wary. He’d already gone above and beyond the terms of his original contract in helping me rescue Emily Schumacher from Dr. Noble. In my current exhausted, foggy state, I couldn’t even remember what I’d promised him if he could hunt down the remaining Matlal. Anything he wanted, probably. With a bonus of extra ‘anything’ if we managed to rescue the
toru
—their blood slaves.

Which brought me to my next question: where the hell
was
Nick? All I had was a series of texts—the first one simply saying
Matlal hideout, Bow Creek Ranch—
with a set of GPS coordinates.

The others had read:

Have to hit them tonight—they’re moving out.

Toru inside, proceed with caution.

And the final:

Meet you there. One hour. Cashing that check.

Yeah. My blank-check promise. No way that could go wrong.

Maybe it already had. It had been longer than an hour, and no further word from Nick. That was making me antsy. What if this was a trap? What if the messages weren’t from him? It would be a dangerous business attacking the skinwalker, but what if someone had, and had then used Nick’s cell to send us out here into an ambush?

The cold of the snow was already working its way into my hands and feet; the thought that we’d been tricked made me feel as if all that cold had frozen into a lump in my belly.

No.
Only Nick would have made the comment about the check. I scooped up some snow and smeared it over my face, the chill clearing my head a little. I’d been trained to run risk assessments, but I hadn’t been trained for running an op with half-rogue wolf and maybe-half-Basilikos Athanate yammering at me inside my head. My brain was running off in all directions. Too much sensory input; too many competing instincts.

Focus.

I scanned the area once more. We’d timed our arrival for just after sundown and done preliminary recon before settling within striking distance of the ranch buildings, but I still felt like we were missing something. The house was dove-gray clapboard with small, white-silled windows. No lights and minimal heat. Pale fingers of snow reaching up the walls.

It felt abandoned, though the word that came to mind was older and darker:
forsaken
.

We were downwind, of course, and my wolf nose could taste the scents of House Matlal in the cold night air. Mostly coming from the barn—a huge, tarred wood structure that loomed ominously behind the ranch house. Beside it, the top of a yellow backhoe poked out of the snow. There were other vehicles parked in the yard between the house and the barn—a truck and several cars. Both yard and vehicles had been cleared of snow. The access road, too. More evidence that the Matlal intended to leave tonight.

The barn was our target. In contrast to the cold, empty house, to my wolfy eyes its heat signature lit up the night, leaking through every gap as if it were smoking in the cold night air. That’s where everyone was—but why? Were they feeding? Was that where they kept the toru?

My vague feeling of unease grew stronger. Something felt wrong here.

I checked my phone again.
No signal.
Damn. No way to tell when or if Nick was arriving—or anybody else. With most of Altau concentrated on building defenses against wide-scale military attacks from Basilikos, it had fallen on me to track down the last of Matlal’s broken House—a lesser threat, relatively speaking. I had almost no resources—most of House Altau was scattered across North America, among the newly formed sub-Houses. Haven was an empty shell.

Even House Farrell/Pack Deauville were spread too thin. Alex was still recovering from the injuries he’d gotten fighting Noble, and Olivia was busy with Larimer’s pack, helping them deal with Noble’s betrayal. Pia was back at Manassah, guarding Jen. I hadn’t been able to reach Tullah. I was down to David and Julie, who were stationed at strategic locations around the ranch buildings. Bian was on her way with the few reinforcements Altau could presently muster. And Nick was still MIA.

Whitetail deer stirred on the far side of the ranch, about a half-mile away. I started twitching and salivating. The wolf wanted to go hunting and taste raw meat.

Eww.

I pushed that down.

My wolf and Athanate gave me great advantages, but they set each other off, too. Taken in isolation, it was kinda like riding a tiger—exciting, if you don’t fall off. But this wasn’t in isolation. I was praying that at some point they’d reach a balance and I’d still be in control. Until then, I had a job to do and their distractions were dangerous.

Bian also distracted me as she came alongside like an eel, making her own Bian-sized burrow in the snow.

I didn’t turn. “About time,” I muttered.

Her breath felt hot in my frozen ear. More distractions. “You do bring me out to the most wonderful places, Round-eye. But it could have been anyone sneaking up on you,” she murmured. “With all sorts of bad intentions.”

I smiled in the dark. Her intentions were always bad. Or wicked.

“Julie’s got my six,” I said.

“And?”

“You probably had a little red dot on the back of your head the entire time you were sneaking up on me.”

She huffed quietly and twisted around to see if she could spot Julie.

Good luck.

I’d managed to find a white ski jacket and pale jeans that didn’t stand out too much in the snow. Bian was in full zebra-pattern snow camo. Instead of her usual katana, she had a futuristic-looking, matte-black blade the length of her arm and a shorty shotgun strapped to her back. Julie was behind us somewhere, invisible in white workman’s coveralls.

“Who else have you got?” I whispered.

“Tom and Paul are over there.” She pointed. “And we’ve got some backup. Elizabetta and three other kin who insisted on coming.” She sighed. “At least the kin are staying back. There’s one on the road as lookout.”

Tom and Paul were good, but that still made only six of us. Seven, if Nick ever showed. The kin had no real training and they lacked Athanate strength and speed. Neither Bian nor I would want to involve them unless we were desperate.

“News on Nick?” I asked Bian.             

“About ten minutes behind us, last update I got.”

“I was starting to worry.”

“He came across a couple more Matlal guys downtown. Sounds like he ripped their heads off.” She shivered delicately. “I like him.”

I snorted and took the comms set she handed me. Bian had bought tactical gear that allowed me to talk to everyone, just like on operations back in my days with Ops 4-10. One of these days I’d have to get some of this for House Farrell.

“Paul, join David behind the barn,” I said into the set. “Tom, Julie, come up in line with me. Elizabetta, hold back and wait for Nick.”

They called off acknowledgments. Tom and Paul had been in the military, and David had worked with me before. They weren’t anything in comparison to a fully trained team, but with luck, we would have surprise on our side. And I had Julie with me. Not to mention Bian, who was terrifying when she really let loose. It should be enough.
Should.

“Listen up, Round-eye.” Bian shifted until she was resting against my back and could whisper straight into my ear. “These toru, they’ve probably been held by Matlal for a long time down in Mexico. The ones they brought up here with them would be the safest ones. Habituated to being toru. Not looking to escape.”

She paused, and I nodded understanding. We couldn’t expect any help from them. I twisted around until I was breathing into her ear.

“I’m sure there’s lots of things you can teach me, little sister, but hostage rescue isn’t one of them.”

“Mmm. Sounds like an invitation.” She paused. “You’re blushing.”

I was. I hadn’t thought through what I was going to say before I said it. Again.

“It’s pitch black, Bian.”

“Yes, but your face just got hotter.”

“Increasing noise from the barn,” David said on the comms, interrupting us.

Julie slithered into the snow beside me.

BOOM.

“What the frigging hell’s that?” I asked.

BOOM.

“Drum.” David said. “Big one. Inside the barn. They’re chanting, too.”

Drum? Chanting? Oh, shit.

All the cold that I’d been trying to ignore suddenly reached hard, icy fingers deep into my chest, and squeezed.

“People, it just hit the fan,” I said into my mike as I got up. “We go now. Julie with me. Tom with Bian five yards behind us. Paul with David—you two stay out of the barn and stop anyone from leaving. Elizabetta, stay clear and wait. This is going to be hard and fast, team. No arguments.”

I was already running, high-stepping through the snow, gripping my HK MP5 submachine gun, with Julie half a step behind.

BOOM.

“I want that C-4 against the barn door like yesterday,” I grunted.

“Gotcha.” Julie didn’t waste words.

We slithered across the space between the ranch and the barn. I pointed off to the side, where I wanted Bian and Tom to wait.

Mercifully, Bian followed orders.

Good. No time to explain.

BOOM.

Julie and I shucked our packs. Working quietly but with frantic haste, we pressed the malleable C-4 explosive into the gaps between the sliding door and the frame, and around the fixtures that held the rails.

BOOM. The drum spoke again, and this close I could feel it in my chest—a liquid hammer thumping on my heart. As the sound of the drum died, the murmur of voices swelled and a wave of cold, prickling dread ran down my body. They were doing what Adepts called a ‘working,’ a manipulation of paranormal energy. And it wasn’t a good one.

“Done.” Julie beat me by half a second, and rammed the timer and detonator package in. “Primed.”

“Primed,” I answered. “Set three seconds on my mark. Two, one,
mark
.”

We pressed the timers and dove out of the way. No opportunity for a single primer setup; I hoped the timers were close enough. And that the door wasn’t as tough as it looked.

It wasn’t.

BOOM.

BOOM.

The plastic explosive obliterated the sound of the drum, and the edges of the barn door simply disintegrated into a mist of fire and splinters. I reached in and tore at the remains. They collapsed outward and I was through, leading with my MP5. Julie flowed into the barn at my shoulder, a lethal shadow, snake-cool and quick.

Gods, it was good to work with her again. I could ignore everything on my right-hand side; she had it.

But we both skidded to a halt. For a long moment, it was impossible to grasp what I was looking at.

The barn was filled, floor to ceiling, with a tiered, Aztec-style pyramid. In fact, from
below
the floor—it’d been dug out. Bursting through the entrance, we’d nearly fallen into a kind of narrow moat around the pyramid. The air stank of cloying wood smoke, paraffin and blood. There were oil lamps on small, floating platforms in the moat below us, and smoking braziers fixed on the corners of every tier of the pyramid. Their flickering light barely reached the walls, though there was still plenty of light for my wolf eyes to see.

And it was hot, but not hot enough to explain why everyone in there was buck naked. The sense of cold dread I’d felt outside surged through me again. This place oozed with evil energy.

Julie fired.
Tap-tap-tap.
It jerked me out of my daze. One down.

A man jumped down from the second tier to the first, body shiny with sweat and a knife the length of my arm raised up to strike. A golden mask obscured the top of his face, but his mouth was ugly with hate. As he tensed to leap the moat, I raised my MP5.
Tap-tap.
His knees buckled and my second shot hit him in his throat, angling up into his head and making the third shot redundant. He fell into the moat. Another Matlal came at me, a woman this time. Same kind of knife and mask. My ears were recovering from the noise of the explosion, but I could hear her shrieking like a jet engine spooling up
. Tap-tap-tap
.