"GET DOWN!" Odette screamed in my ear as she roughly shoved me to the ground. Not a second later I felt something whoosh through the air above us. My SIG was out of the holster before the echo of the screech had faded. I looked up to see a dozen shapes circling in the air high above us. In the silhouette of the full moon, they looked like women with giant wings.
"Harpies!" Odette and I shouted at the same time.
"Move!" I shouted. She turned to run back to her house, but I grabbed her arm, stopping her. "You have any guns in there?" I asked. To my disbelief she shook her head no.
"I put the UMP back in the armory."
"Okay," I said, "My house then… heads up!" I snapped my pistol up and dumped the magazine into the harpy that had swooped down towards us. It fell from its smooth dive like a marionette with cut strings. Angry shrieks pierced the sky as the rest of the harpies turned as one and dove for us.
"Oh shit!" Odette said, "MOVE!" I needed no second bidding and tore after her towards my front door.
"Steve, hurry! Odette said as she started firing her big Smith & Wesson at the incoming Harpies. After a few terrifying seconds, I found the keys, pulled them from my pocket, and began desperately fumbling for the right one.
"Steve…" Odette said as her pistol ran dry. She dropped the mag and went for a fresh one, "any time now would be really good!" I glanced over my shoulder and nearly dropped the keychain; the harpies were less than a hundred feet from us and closing fast. At that moment, her cell phone started ringing. Her ringtone, I'm not even kidding, was Ride of the Vaklyries.
"Got it!" I shouted as I jammed the appropriate key into the lock. We barreled into the house a second later, then both turned and slammed the door shut. I threw the deadbolt home. A second later, the whole house shook as at least one harpy slammed into the door at full speed.
"In here!" I said and took off towards the bedroom. "And answer the phone!" Odette snatched the phone from her pocket as I pulled a footlocker out from under my bed. Inside were my Crusader Partisan, M1 Garand, Stoeger Coach Gun, Springfield 1911, Kel-Tec PF-9, SIG P6, and my revolver collection. The FAL and Mossberg were still locked in the trunk of the GTO, so these would have to do. I half-listened to the conversation as I set about loading each of the weapons and laying them out on the floor.
"Hello?... Dominique thank God! I'm at Steve's… yes, harpies. We're inside, I think we're… yes, Steve's with me… yeah… we're safe for right now, I think… okay… will do." She hung up the phone and turned to me. "The rest of the team's on the way."
"Thank God," I said. I picked up the Partisan and handed it to her, "You know how to run one of these?" She nodded. "Good." I handed her a set of electronic earmuffs from the footlocker. She put them on and shouldered the rifle. I put my MHI-issue plugs in my ears and picked up the Garand. Through the embedded speakers, I suddenly heard a scratching, thumping sound coming from above us. They were on the roof. I pointed to the ceiling and mimed crawling. Odette nodded and aimed her rifle up at the roof. For several terrifying minutes, the sounds continued. Then, just as suddenly as they'd started, they ceased.
"What do you think?" Odette asked me, eyes still on the ceiling, "are they gone?"
"Doubt it," I replied. As if on cue, the window on the far side of the room exploded inward. We swung around and fired into the harpy that was already halfway into the room. I ripped through the eight-round en-bloc clip so fast it seemed like the rifle was firing full auto; before I knew it the clip had ejected from the gun and the bolt was locked back. I quick reached back into the footlocker for another clip, reloaded, and brought the rifle back up, only to see the shooting had stopped. The harpy, or at least what was left of it, hung limply half-in and half-out of the window. Its head and a bit of its torso were gone; torn to shreds by five .30-06 FMJs and about a dozen .223 ballistic tips. I realized that my ears were ringing something terrible; in the close quarters of my bedroom, the electronic earplugs couldn't block out all of the incredibly loud gunfire.
The headless harpy was suddenly pulled from the window and two of its friends appeared in its place. We opened up on them. Black blood splattered all over the room. Our guns ran dry at the same time. Odette dropped her mag and went fishing for a reload while I dropped the Garand and snatched up the Stoeger. No sooner had the stock touched my shoulder than I dumped both barrels into the window. A harpy's head disappeared in a black mist and it fell limp into the room.
Pretty much all of ancient mythology portrays the harpy as a beautiful woman with large, graceful, feathery wings. Sort of like an angel, only it eats people. Yeah, right; they're really ugly, demonic-looking hags with blue-grey skin and big leathery bat wings. The old Jason and the Argonauts movie gets its depiction of the creature pretty close to reality, I'm pretty sure Ray Harryhausen was a Hunter at some point.
I dropped the Stoeger and started to reach for the Garand when three more harpies started to climb through the window. I immediately went for the 1911 and dumped the magazine into the window. They seemed to hesitate, but managed to shrug off the hits and continued to pull themselves through. I dropped the big pistol and started to feel around for another gun when the room filled with noise and the harpies' heads exploded. Odette had found another PMag.
"We can't stay here!" Odette shouted.
"No kidding!" Even with electronic ear protection, we could barely hear each other.
"Where's your truck?"
"In the garage!" Each house had an attached garage, but they were only big enough for one vehicle, hence the reason why The Beast – and my guns – were in the motor pool. "You think we should make for it?"
"You have a better idea?" she asked as another harpy started to poke through the window. She dumped the rest of the magazine into it. I quick handed her another.
"Nope. Cover me." I quick pulled a half-dozen PMags from the footlocker and handed them to Odette. She stuffed them in her pockets as I reloaded the Garand and Coach Gun and stuffed my pockets with as many en-bloc clips and shotgun shells as I could carry. "Okay, move!"
"Wait, what about your SIG?"
"It's… oh shit." It wasn't in my holster. I must've dropped it as we were coming through the door. I quick checked the back of my waist and sighed with relief as my fingers brushed my backup 220 Compact. "I'm good, let's go!" Odette sprinted for the garage as I snapped up the Garand and fired it into the harpy that was almost through the window. It went down hard just like its friends. By now, the inside of my bedroom was covered in black spatter. I turned to follow her a second later, sprinting out of the bedroom and into the hall. I dashed into the garage and was halfway around to the driver's side door when I looked in the cab and stopped dead in my tracks.
Odette wasn't in the truck.
A shriek filled the garage. I whirled around, snapped up the Garand, leveled it straight at… a tool chest?
"Help me!" I glanced over and saw Odette with her shoulder braced against the side of the chest. The metal case shrieked in protest as Odette tried to shove it across the concrete. Right away I figured out what she was trying to do. I ran over, set the Garand down, and threw my weight against the heavy metal chest, helping Odette to slide it in front of the door. It would buy us a minute. The tool chest rocked as a harpy slammed into the other side of the door. A minute, if we were lucky. I retrieved my rifle as Odette clambered into the truck. I pulled myself up into the cab a second later, jammed the keys in the ignition. The big V8 caught on the first turn. I let out a whoop of delight and slammed the transmission into reverse.
"Hang on!" I shouted.
"What? WhyOMIGODWHATAREYOUDOING!" Odette screamed as I floored the gas and sent the truck plowing through the closed garage door. The cab rocked as debris bounced off of it.
"Are you crazYIEEEE!" She screamed again as I snapped the truck into a J-turn, slammed on the brakes, shifted into Drive, and floored it again. Odette opened her mouth to yell at me, but something slammed into the back of the truck and cut her off. We both turned to see a Harpy standing in the bed of the truck. Odette grabbed the Partisan from the floor, shoved it through the rear window, and pumped five rounds into its chest. The creature staggered back a step and then was thrown from the bed as we lurched over a bump.
"Sorry," she said, wincing as pieces of safety glass fell from the rifle's handguard.
"Don't worry about itWOAH!" I shouted as another Harpy landed on the front of the truck. Its claws gouged into the hood, leaving nasty looking tears in the metal. It lunged at us, destroying the windshield with a powerful swipe, missing us by inches. I grabbed the Coach Gun from between the seats, shoved it through the open windshield, pressing the twin muzzles into the creature's nose. The harpy's eyes crossed, then got wide as dinner plates as it realized what was about to happen. A second later, I pulled both triggers. We were instantly splattered with gore as the harpy's skull exploded. A quick flick of the steering wheel sent the headless harpy sailing from the truck. I glanced over at Odette. Her face was covered in black blood, and I could see bits of harpy skull and brains in her hair.
"You enjoy doing that, didn't you?" she asked.
"Getting you covered in blood and guts?" I asked, "No, of course not!"
"I meant blowing that thing's head off with the shotgun," she replied with a slight grin, "You seem to do that an awful lot."
"Yeah," I replied with a smile of my own, "I guess so…" A flash of motion in the rearview mirror grabbed my attention for a moment. My eyes must've gotten as wide as that last harpy's because Odette turned to look out the back of the cab.
"GET DOWN!" we screamed as one. We both grabbed each other and pulled ourselves under the dash an instant before something huge hit and tore the roof of the cab off all the way down to the base of the windshield.
"That's… that's a gargoyle!" I said as we watched the gigantic creature climb into the night sky.
"Yeah, I can see that," Odette replied. She grabbed the Garand, braced it against her shoulder, and loosed a round at the giant stone creature. She fired again a second later, then dropped the rifle.
"Need a clip?" I asked.
"No," she said. Her words were laced with pain. I saw her holder her shoulder with one hand and cradling her jaw with the other. She must've gotten hit by the big rifle's stock during recoil. I winced in sympathy; that thing kicks like a moose. The enormous living statue wheeled around in the sky, impossibly fast, before swooping back towards us. "DUCK!" Odette screamed in my ear. I couldn't think of a better idea. At the last second, I swerved right to avoid those massive claws. I almost made it; the creature's talons hit the rear quarter of the truck. The big machine snapped left like a whip and rolled over on its side. We spun across the asphalt, totally out of control, the side of my head inches from the asphalt. All we could do was hold on and pray that we didn't turn over completely. If that happened, we'd be hamburger. After the most terrifying twenty seconds of my life, the truck finally stopped. For a few seconds, we both just sat there, staring straight ahead into space, unable to believe we'd survived. I recovered first.
"You okay?" I asked Odette.
"Yeah," she winced, "Nice driving." She undid her seatbelt and tumbled in top of me. "Oh Lord!" I followed her gaze and felt the blood in my veins freeze. The gargoyle was starting to dive right at us.
"Move!" I shouted to Odette. She scrambled to her feet and sprinted away from the truck. I undid my seatbelt and lunged out of the seat. Or at least, tried to. I looked down towards my leg and my stomach tied itself into a knot. My leg was stuck under the dashboard. I twisted around, trying to work my way free, but it was no good. The door must've crumpled inward when the truck rolled. My leg was firmly pinned in place. I lunged forward again, trying to pull myself free. Nothing. I glanced up again. The gargoyle was headed right for me. I started thrashing around, desperate to tear myself loose. Neither the dash, the door, nor my leg budged. Then I heard and felt something pop in my knee, and I screamed as fire raced up and down my leg. The gargoyle swooped closer. I heard Odette scream my name. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her start to run back towards me. She'd never make it in time.
In sheer desperation, I reached behind my back and pulled the P220 Compact from my SOB rig. Even as I thumbed the hammer back, I knew it would be useless; gargoyles can only be stopped by heavy artillery and high explosives. At the very least, bring a .50 BMG if you're trying to kill one. For all the good my measly .45 ACP would do, I might as well be shooting spitballs at it. I lined the sights up square on the bridge of the stone nose, said a silent prayer, and pulled the trigger. The gun rocked back in my hand. There would be no time for a second shot.
The gargoyle's head exploded.
As the stone behemoth fell from the sky, all I could do was stare in amazed bewilderment at my little SIG. What the f
A ferocious crash snapped me back to reality and I looked up to see the gargoyle smashing into the pavement. Its forward momentum not totally spent, it slid down the asphalt, carving a deep trench as it went. It took a second for me to realize that the multi-ton behemoth was heading straight for the truck.
I tried to lurch out of my seat again and bit back a scream as pain lanced through my leg. I yanked again, my eyes watering. Ignoring the pain, I bent down and began desperately twisting my leg, my ankle, trying anything and everything to break myself free. The thundering roar of granite tearing through asphalt and dirt hammered my ears. I looked up and almost screamed. The dead gargoyle was less than twenty feet from me. I was dead.
A moment later, I noticed two things. Firstly, everything was silent. Secondly, I wasn't dead. I slowly inched my eyes open. The gargoyle had ground to a halt less than two feet from the truck.
"STEVE!" I looked over just as Odette all but ran right into me. "Are you all right?"
"Yeah," I replied, ignoring the painful throbbing in my knee, "That was one hell of a spitball."
"Why didn't you run?" she asked.
"I'm stuck," I said, indicating my trapped leg.
"You guys okay?" I looked over and saw Scotty jog around the back of the truck. A Milkor MGL grenade launcher hung from a sling across his chest, smoke rising lazily from the muzzle.
"So much for the spitball," I muttered.
"What?" Odette asked.
"Nevermind. Could someone find a crowbar or something and get me out of here?"
Once Jon and Chris had found a giant pry bar and freed my leg, the team regrouped in the main building's conference room. Shannon, it turned out, was the team's medic as well as our intelligence specialist. She looked over my knee for a few minutes, pronounced it a bad sprain, wrapped it in a big ACE bandage, then wrapped the whole thing with bags of ice. I'd be going to the ER first thing in the morning to get it checked out. Until then, I was stuck, along with Odette, getting my brain picked by Dominique and the rest of the team.
"You two have been here for forty-eight hours," Dominique said, "and in that time, we've been ambushed by monsters three times. Why? Cooper, any ideas?"
"I have no idea," I replied, "Doctor Bryson won't tell me anything, and I've told you all I know about my dream. Guys, I'm sorry, but I really have no clue."
"Odette?" Dominique asked. Odette just shook her head and shrugged. She didn't know anything.
"You really think someone's targeting us?" she asked.
"It would appear that way," Dominique replied.
"It could be just a random attack," I suggested, "Monsters hitting MHI to get back at the organization in general."
"That's highly unlikely," Dominique said.
"She's right," Shannon said before either Odette or I could argue, "I'll check with Albert Lee in Alabama, but as far as I know, there's only been one direct attack on any MHI compound in over a century, actually happened five years ago."
"The Lord of Shadows," Dominique said, wincing at the memories. "Damn, that was a bad night."
"Lord of Shadows?" I asked. That sounded like a villain from a bad 50's B-grade horror movie. "What'd he want?"
"Destroy MHI to get in the good graces of the Old Ones," Shannon said. "But don't forget, monsters have come after specific Hunters in the past."
"True," Dominique said, "So I guess the question is who have you two pissed off recently?"
"No one," Odette replied, "I didn't even know monsters existed until… the Naga… and I didn't have any more encounters with them until the other night."
"Same here," I replied, "And I'm pretty sure none of my relatives or ancestors were Hunters."
"I don't think any of mine were either," Odette added.
"They weren't," Dominique said, "we've checked; none of you are related in any way, shape, or form to past Hunters." Well, that was a relief.
"So why are they coming after us?" I asked.
"Actually, we're fairly certain they just want you," Dominique said.
"Me? How can you be sure?"
"Well," Shannon said, "Nagas are only semi-sentient. They have limited ability to reason, but they don't have any written or spoken language. No higher thought processes like humans. Now vampires, on the other hand, are highly intelligent, and we know of multiple instances where they held grudges against humans."
"Speaking of which," Dominique interrupted, "any luck on tracing the family history of Steve's vampire?"
"Not so far," she replied, "I… ah… I actually haven't been able to find any record of the attack." That got everyone's attention. "It's not in the MCB Database."
"That makes no sense," Dominique said, "The Feds talked to him about it, there are police reports, you're sure it's not there?"
"If it's there, I haven't been able to find it," Shannon said.
"Well…" Dominique said after a moment's thought, "Keep looking. Steve'll help you once he gets back from the hospital.
"What?"
"With that leg, you're not going to be Hunting for a while," Dominique said. "No argument. You're useless to us in the field right now, and we need to know what this thing is and why it's after you. We need you here."
"Okay, fine," I fumed. Dominique was my boss. She could make me ride a desk, but she couldn't make me like it.
"Okay, that's settled. Anything else?"
"Actually…" I said hesitantly. I glanced over at Odette. She didn't meet my gaze; her eyes fell instead to the floor. "Dominique, can Odette and I talk to you? In private?"