Reign of Evil - 03 (23 page)

Walker cursed. Things were going from bad to worse. “What?”

“I feel something.”

“I feel it too, bud. Just relax.”

“It’s them, isn’t it? It’s their magic. Feels … greasy.”

Walker couldn’t agree more. “Trev, what do you have?”

Trevor had searched the prisoner. He found an amulet with a silver tree inside a circle, which he took a cell phone picture of, then pocketed. He also found a tattoo on the prisoner’s chest of three interlocked crescent moons. The man had nothing else besides equipment, which was top-of-the-line. He took pictures of the man’s face and the tattoo, then sent all three shots to Preeti.

“The feeling’s getting worse,” YaYa said.

Walker’s teeth were on edge. There’d been a time when magic or proximity to the supernatural would have made him fall on the ground and do the kicking chicken, like his first mission in the hidden snakehead sweatshop in San Francisco. He could only imagine how YaYa felt. It was so new to him.

YaYa cursed, “Fuck me.”

“What is it?”

“The naked girl with the sewn-shut lips pointed at the Black Hornet and it fell from the sky.”

Walker thought through his options. “Is the back clear?”

“For the moment.”

“Okay. We’re going to
un-ass the AO
. Trevor, you watch our six. Once we’re down, we’ll cover you.”

Trevor nodded and took up position at the door.

Walker gestured for YaYa to go first. The roof had a ledge outside the window large enough for a man to stand on. YaYa climbed out, then swept the area with his pistol.

“Clear.”

“Then move.”

YaYa reached out and grabbed the lip of the roof. He hesitated a moment, then pulled himself over the edge. Walker saw his fingers; then he was gone.

A moment later, “Clear.”

Now it was Walker’s turn to exit. He glanced back at Trevor, who gave him a thumbs-up. Walker nodded, then climbed out into the cold Christmas Eve night. Somewhere people were warm and celebrating. Somewhere people had already exchanged gifts or were preparing to do so the next morning. Christmas Eve had always been a time of joy, even at the orphanage. But he felt anything but joy at this moment, fear raging through his spine from the proximity of this strange Red Grove magic.

He lowered himself, then dropped the remaining five feet.

YaYa had already taken up position beside the trunk of a tree, his weapon sweeping both corners of the walled-in backyard.

“Clear,” Walker said into his mike, then moved beside YaYa. With the trunk to his left, he aimed toward the window. “Sectors of fire.” YaYa left the right corner of the house alone and concentrated on his 180 degrees.

“Come on, Trev. Move.” Walker glanced behind him. Wall with concrete blocks and lots of dead grass. He turned back to the window.

YaYa gave Walker a quick look. “What’s taking him?”

Walker was beginning to get a sinking feeling. “Trev. Radio check. Come in, Trev.” It had only been a moment. Not ten seconds.

Walker felt it before he saw it. “Something’s coming.”

YaYa was sobbing beside him as his whole body began to tremble.

Walker put a hand on him. “Control. Fight it.”

YaYa nodded, wiping unbidden tears from his face with the back of his hands.

When Walker looked again to the window he saw her, sewn lips, blue piercing eyes seeing through him, her long blond hair moved delicately by an unfelt breeze. He felt her power. His teeth began to chatter. He raised his pistol but couldn’t control his aim. He fired over and over and over, but the rounds never came close. He kept firing until the pistol clicked back at him.

A moment of panic took him, but he fought it.

He grabbed YaYa.

“Where is he?” YaYa asked through sobs.

Walker glanced once more at the window. She was gone. As was Trevor.

“They have him.”

CHAPTER 34

POINT BRAVO, WARWICK, ENGLAND. CHRISTMAS DAY, ZERO DARK THIRTY.

He expected Preeti to scream and shout,
How could you?
and
You of all people?
, but all he got was silence. He caught her glancing at him with red swollen eyes, but she wouldn’t say a word. This uncharacteristic response to the capture of her boyfriend worried Walker enough that he wished she were screaming at him.

It had taken them four hours to make it back. Once they’d cleared the wall behind the home, they’d headed for the car. But even before they reached it, they’d realized that Trevor had the keys, and neither Walker nor YaYa knew how to wire a car. So they’d been forced to continue running. Near Glastonbury Train Station they’d found a car with keys inside. Then, they’d taken extra care not to drag surveillance back to the chapel. Preeti’s brother had tried to do what he’d previously done to the CCTV servers, but cybersecurity had found and closed his back door.

Just as they thought the universe was against them, they had help from an unsuspected arena. Lord Robinson had provided a platoon of Royal Marines to Ian for assistance. The chief of Section 9, for all Walker knew the last member of Section 9, had finally managed to convince the senior MP that the only way they were going to stop the Wild Hunt was to dedicate more assets to the effort. The Marines weren’t pleased to be pulled away from their families at Christmas, but in the end they were Marines and acted the part. So it was a taxi that picked them up outside of a Sainsbury’s superstore in Gloucester. They’d switched to foot, then boarded a bus, then went back to foot once more. Scrubbing any last vestige of surveillance by transiting an all-night grocer, they got into the taxi in an area identified by Preeti’s brother as having no active CCTV cameras. The taxi driver introduced himself as Corporal Alex Cope and took them straight to Warwick.

Hoover was the first to greet them. Walker spared the dog a small pet, then strode straight to Preeti.

“We’ll get him back.”

Dark circles under her bloodshot eyes along with a red and running nose detailed a bucket of shed tears. “I know you will.” Her voice was flat.

“No, really. I’ll do everything I can.” Then his voice got husky. “I’m so sorry.”

She nodded, then turned back to her work. “I know.”

Then he’d briefed Ian, Holmes, and Lieutenant Rory Magerts, platoon leader of the Marines, who’d been read onto Section 9’s mission, but by the increasing level of incredulity present on his face it was not something he wholeheartedly believed. The witch, Laws, Genaro, and Yank listened in, but from a distance. Everyone occasionally glanced in Preeti’s direction, especially when Trevor’s name was mentioned.

After the second run-through, Holmes asked Sassy to join them.

“Can it hear us?” Holmes asked.

“It hears everything.”

“What were those women Walker described?”

“Vessels. Fonts. They are empty and have no soul.”

That explained their emotionless appearance. But Walker wanted to know where their souls had gone, so he asked.

Sassy frowned and shook her head, looking almost like the regular woman she’d been pretending to be all this time. Looking at her now, no one would know that she was a powerful witch who’d forced the mythological creature to possess her. “There’s a type of magic that uses people, uses their souls for power. It’s distasteful.”

“What are they used for? I thought I saw a hound leap into her, then disappear.”

Sassy regarded Walker. “I know what you’re thinking, but stop that right now.” Walker was about to respond, but she shushed him with a wave of her hand. “You’re thinking of your girl, aren’t you? If her soul can survive in the body of one of these ghouls, then you can be together again.” She shook her head again, this time looking 1,000 percent witch. “She is not at all like she was. What’s left of her soul has done terrible things, things from which she can’t come back. Ever.”

Walker stared at Sassy, understanding and not caring. He repeated his question. “What are they used for?”

She sighed and glanced at Holmes.

“Answer his question,” he said.

“The hounds are formed from the strength of a person’s soul. They manifest as real when attacking, but spend most of their existence as a wisp of wind or a billow of fog. They are sustained by Tuatha magic and belong to the Hunt. But on occasion, if an empty vessel is available, a witch or warlock can summon a hound to do their bidding. The soul of the person who was harvested for the hound is pleased to be once again in a human form and shows their gratitude through sharing of the magic that made them.”

“Have you ever done that?” Holmes asked.

“I told you. I’m not that kind of witch.”

“Why do they sew their lips shut?” YaYa asked, joining the conversation.

“The Tuatha have their secrets and don’t want them told.”

YaYa couldn’t help himself. “So they take some poor waif, rip out her soul, sew her lips shut so she can be a vessel?”

She stared at him flatly. “Being judgmental isn’t going to get us anywhere.”

Holmes jumped in. “She’s right. Let’s figure this thing out.”

Just as they were about to start, the lieutenant’s cell rang. He stepped away from the table and carried out a brisk conversation. He glanced at Holmes and Ian twice. When he finished, he rejoined them.

“Don’t know what to make of it. I sent two men to Glastonbury to keep tabs as requested. They’re sure that the people in the house know they’re there, but they don’t seem to be concerned. In fact, they’re still having their party.”

Holmes uncharacteristically cursed.

“What is it?” Ian asked.

“They’re not worried about freedom of movement.”

Walker figured it out the same time everyone else did. “It’s happening today, isn’t it?”

Holmes nodded and checked his watch. “We have less than twenty hours and they could do it anytime. We’ve got to get out there.”

“And do what?” Ian smacked his hand down on the table. “We don’t even know what they’re trying to do.”

“No, but at least we know where they are. There’s got to be something we can do … whatever it is.” To Laws, Holmes said, “Have everyone ready to go in twenty.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Sassy and I are going to speak with the Tuatha. If something’s going down then it knows. It’s time for the Tuatha to come clean.”

CHAPTER 35

POINT BRAVO, WARWICK, ENGLAND. LATER.

While everyone else checked weapons and loaded kit, Holmes and Sassy had a private conversation in the back of the room. He decided to begin, letting her know as close to what he felt as he could afford.

“First of all, I appreciate everything you’ve done for us. We’re more used to things we can shoot and kill. A lot of folks might think that to do our job we’d need a lot of special equipment. But they’d be amazed at what a simple round from a rifle can do if delivered on target.” He checked to see if she was listening and she nodded. “But the hounds are another matter. We can’t affect them. Our bullets do no damage. That is, unless you or the Tuatha have something to help us.”

She started to say something, then stopped, as if she was listening to something. When she looked up, she said, “There’s little mortal hands can do to deter the hounds of the Wild Hunt.”

“What about magic? Is there something, I don’t know.…” He felt silly saying the words aloud, but there was no other way he knew to describe what he wanted. “Can you make magic bullets?”

Sassy smiled, but it wasn’t her smile. It was too wide and too strained. There was a flash of fear in her eyes before it was replaced with a competent calm.
“The residual of our magic is what mortals like my host tap into for power. These are nothing but slick shadows of what we once were. The hounds were created from original magic. It is pure.”

“So you’re saying there’s nothing we can do?” He had a hard time believing that. He frowned. Was this some sort of test? He knew he was speaking to the Tuatha now. However it was happening, he wouldn’t have much longer if it was against Sassy’s will. “Then how were you defeated before? Who was it, the Milesians?”

Again with the alien smile.
“You’ve studied my people. What is it you want to know about them?”

“They defeated you. What did they use?”

Gone was the smile, to be replaced by a look of such intense hate that had it been one degree worse her face would have cracked and broken.
“They were given the gift of iron before they were ready.”

Swords. Metallurgy. Arrowheads. Holmes could see it. He tried to remember the eras. Where was Laws when he needed him? No, there wasn’t time, plus this was a commander issue. Hadn’t it been the Bronze Age? With everyone using weapons made from tin and copper, the appearance of iron would have been as a superweapon.

“What’s the other thing?” Holmes asked.

“Faith.”

“What? Like Catholic or Baptist?”

“Those are words, not faith.”
Then Sassy’s face slipped into something more akin to a coma patient’s. Her eyes went glassy; her mouth dropped, lengthening her face. The only thing that told him that she was still alive was a tic jerking the corner of her right eye.

He waited about thirty seconds, wondering what he should do. Just as he reached out to give her a gentle shake, she shook her head, blinked several times, then curled her lips into a knot of anger.

“How long?” she asked in a voice that would make a snake shed its skin.

“A minute. Maybe two.”

“What’d it tell you?”

Holmes thought about it but decided to tell her. So he did. He still wasn’t entirely convinced she was on their side. He was certain that as long as he and the team were doing the same thing she was doing she’d help. But if his mission went cross-purposes to her desire, he had no doubt she’d do whatever it took to get her wish, even if it meant stepping all over SEAL Team 666.

She listened, her brow knotted. When he was done she said, “It has the feel of truth. Listen, I know you don’t entirely trust me, but you have to trust me on this. The Tuatha does not care about us. We are humans, mortals. We are nothing to it, no matter how easily it’s able to manipulate us through its charismatic magic.”