Chapter Twenty

Cal

Something I learned at a very young age was that no one –and I meant no one– was without sin. One look at the news and religious fanatics were preaching divinity out of one side of their mouth and then raping children in their confession booth or bombing another faction's youth group because of differences of belief. And they were supposed to be the enlightened ones. Then there was the government, the human's law-abiding bull-shitters. The CEOs vacuuming up every fraction of a penny with their private jets while their pawns suffer through minimum wage. The gas stations promoting a greener life style while they fuck the oceans up with more pollution than four hundred humans' carbon footprints. Manipulation and deceit ran like blood-fuel through the veins of any human in a high seat. It was no different with the paien.

There might be good people out there…somewhere, but I hadn't met one yet. Maybe George, but even she had her flaws. Nik was probably the closest thing that had ever come to good and if it were to save me he wouldn't think twice about murdering a puppy or two. I guess that was more my point. Everyone wanted something. Everyone wanted that one thing that they would do literally anything for. For Niko it was his little brother. For Cassie it was Dante, and maybe me. For me that one thing had multiplied to three, which was dangerous. And those three things that would do anything for were venturing into an abandoned warehouse with me where there was an obvious trap set.

I stood in the wide opening after Niko had pushed open one side of the rolling doors and took in a deep breath. Yeah…fuck peri culture, that prick had duped us. He probably ruffled his feathers as he stood on a soap box declaring how no peri would harm another peri's child even in the midst of war, but when it came down to Cassie she didn't fall under the peri category. She knew this, I knew this, so why I let her walk into this was beyond me.

The warehouse was covered in a fine layer of dust, seemingly undisturbed at first, but if I looked closely I could see little circles and scrapes in the grim. Paw prints. That and the fact that the two level wide open space smelled like a kennel for the mangy and deranged kinda tipped me off that Joel had no intention to duel with his niece. He decided to let the Evati do his job for him. Win win, right? He could rest easy knowing the Harbinger was dead without a spec of her blood on his tunic.

"We've been played," I announced. Like they already didn't know. Niko had to taste the tension in the air; his katana was already unsheathed at his side. Cassie could smell them probably as easily as I could, but it needed to be said, because that was as close as I was going to get to 'I told you so', without a head slap or a scathing glare.

Joel was no angel and I would be hard pressed to trust a peri after this. Most docile of the paien, my ass. I'd take my bets with a wood nymph on that one.

There was a little click-click clack that echoed in a pattern against the metal rafters and aluminum roof. It was a distinct sound. The sound of puppy claws long overdue for a trim. The creature that came around a leaking barrel of oil, though, was no puppy. He was what the werewolves of nightmares came from. Bristled slate gray fur covered the majority of his body, thinning out around his chest to reveal the muscles of a champion weightlifter in a murky brown tone, speckled with dark sunspots that almost resembled freckles. It thinned at his knees and elbows too showing almost human joints, but around his wide jaw the fur sprang out like straggly sideburns, collaring his neck. His face was all wolf, even his yellow eyes. His back was hunched like his spine was just too long and when he reared up on two legs I understood its purpose. He could stand like a man…a huge, clawed, muscle-bound seven-foot-tall man. I also notice that the pelt thinned out around the only other humanoid appendage he had to his name, but he barely gave me a run for the money with that endowment. He seemed to smile a doggy dinner-time smile and hefted out a single bark that reverberated through the building.

On wolfman's cue, the catwalks and every other negative space between crate and barrel were then occupied with hunched humanoid shadows or slinking wolves, both snarling and sneezing in our general direction. There were at least three packs here, maybe four. I didn't recognize any, but had to assume the Kin had thrown down a few cronies to help out their overseas brethren.

"Semalyski," Cassie greeted. She stepped forward in front of me. Her bare feet stirred the dust even if they didn't make a sound. She preferred fighting without shoes I noticed; I didn't doubt that she could probably kill someone with her toes that way. The huge werewolf in front of us grunted in reply as if saying 'great to see you, please stay for dinner' only, to wolves, dinner equaled death.

I had Dante. That was decided on the way over; of the three of us I was the weakest link, being limited with my gates. The Harbinger and super ninja Ram-bro were better at melee, there was no disagreement there. My forte was the heavy weight of my Desert Eagle in hand, with which I could shoot explosive rounds into the werewolves' heads from a safer distance with Dante still on my hip. For the most part, my son was being a little angel. A soft growl in the back of his throat and tension up his spine, but he didn't scrabble to be put down or even make much noise to call attention to himself. Not that it seemed to matter; all eyes were on Cassie. For once I was in the clear.

Niko was at her side, also a first, leaving more space between himself and his little brother than he would usually allow. He knew my wishes, he knew the best thing to do was pretend I wasn't here at all, and I knew he was fighting with that decision every step he took. And I took a few back, so the closest werewolf in hiding was clear in my eye-line, instead of shifting in my peripheral vision. That bitch had her eyes on me. I turned the gun on her, eliciting an extra snarl, but she didn't lurch or charge forward.

My heels crossed over the line of the door; I could feel the small chasm the sliding metal used as a track under my sole. I needed to get as far back from the action as possible, while still remaining in shooting range. I wasn't about to leave them, but I certainly didn't like doing this with my son in my arms.

"This is pointless, Semalyski," Cassie went on. I watched Niko offer her a blade out of the corner of my eye. I wanted to keep the black wolf eyeing me up in sight more. I was surprised to see Cassie accept the offer, but she obviously couldn't have gates flying all about with my human brother right at her flank. I also knew that it was much more tolerable to fight at werewolf at least arm's length away from their stench. "You know very well that I wanted nothing to do with the Evati to begin with. Don't start another war for an ancient grudge."

The ripped werewolf pulled back his lips even farther, flashing black gums and spraying an impressive amount of thick mucus when he huffed out something that could almost be considered a laugh. Well, couldn't say she didn't try. She flipped her borrowed katzblager and spread her legs to lower her center of balance. "All right, Nik. I've got Psycho-puppy, but I need you and Cal to keep the ring clear."

Niko gave her a short nod and took several steps back, closer to me. I smirked and level my Eagle between that black wolf's beady yellow eyes. A little bloodlust was stirring my veins, something I used to blame on the Auphe, but what could I complain about? It served me well and I kinda forfeited the right to blame it on dear old dad when I opened myself up to that part of myself when I let my memories come back on that rooftop. I also had better things to be concerned about.

And that something was suddenly digging his little mini claws into my collarbone and screaming in full Auphe nature. It wasn't anything translatable, just pure unadulterated agony and fury. I cursed at my own pain, but held him against me. His screeching distracted most of the wolves. All of them whimpering and yowling at the sound, trying to scratch it out of their ears or just plain running off. That included the black one that had previously been prowling toward Dante and I. That target removed, I wrapped both arms around Dante, rubbing at his back to calm him down. I couldn't hear anything over the shrill, glass breaking screams in my ears.

"Dante," I called. "Dante, stop. Little Ace, its all right!" I ducked around the other half of the ridged double-doors that we hadn't pushed open. I couldn't hear, but I certainly saw that the fight within the warehouse had begun. Niko was going to have some trouble defending against frantic werewolves with my son's voice siren-ing in his ears; Cassie was probably used to it, but it didn't help her either. His screaming would still stop some of the werewolves from launching intelligent attacks even as I blocked it with open air and the metal siding to my back.

Dante continued his tirade, all that good boy quietness out the window. His voice was even getting hoarse with the power. I knocked my head back against the door and continued rubbing at his back. I had to resist the urge to cover his wide open mouth with my hand. His muscles twitched as if in pain under his shirt. His face was red with strain and damp against my cheek from waterworks that hadn't stopped since he started wailing. What the hell was wrong with him? He didn't react like this around Delilah and her back-up bitches. He fought with them and, yeah, Psycho-puppy was a bit more visually intimidating but still. He'd faced the Auphe!

Then the muscles under my fingers started to bulge in a very unnatural manner like something was trying to get out, or he was transforming into a new beast. When I pushed my fingertips in, his screaming cut off to a close-mouthed whine. Something ripped and instantly his shirt was damp. I pulled back my hand and saw red blossoming. "Shit, Dante, what the hell is that?"

I shoved the gun into the back of my black jeans and whipped the ka-bar out. It was awkward slicing up the back of his shirt with one hand, but I managed and what I saw wasn't that assuring. The skin around his shoulder blades was ruptured, the fissure growing by the second as if something was trying to free itself from within my son. My brain flickered through about one hundred horror movie scenarios before I saw something fuzzy among the snapping veins and shifting muscle visible beneath the widening gap. I'd see something like this before; National Geographic this time and the image of a baby egret being born. It wasn't quite downy-white as it was slate gray and dew-damp with blood, but I still knew what it was.

Robin had mentioned this. Part of me recalled that, but what he had said about it wasn't coming back to me with any semblance of clarity. My son was revealing his wings; that was all I could process. What to do about this on the other hand was a loss. I shifted him in my arms, pocketing the knife as well so I had both arms free. I slid down to a crouch so he could sit on my thigh and I could help pull back the skin. I didn't bother removing his claws from my own flesh, hoping it was as good as giving him some leather to bite on or a hand to squeeze. "It's okay, little Ace. Let 'em rip, go on."

I didn't imagine that my half-assed words of encouragement would help, but without him screaming at the top of his lungs, I could hear the battle of bunker werewolf had escalated. I needed to get him through this quickly so I could start busting a cap in Benji and Fido. Something was working though, my presence, my tearing his skin, or just nature running its course. It didn't matter, the little half-formed appendages wriggled out from his back, bloody, gooey, and looking like a partially-feathered chicken wings. I grimaced as I flicked my hand toward the concrete, trying to get rid of some of the warm mixture of insides off my fingers.

Dante raised his head to look at me. Snot hung from his nose with all the crying, but at least now it was just a pitiful whimper and a curious glance over his shoulder. He looked back at me with wide gray eyes, just as baffled as I was. I took the sleeve of his ruined shirt and wiped his nose for him; that was the fatherly thing to do right? "You picked an opportune time for that milestone, Ace."

His claws retracted from the meat of my shoulder and he patted the area with his chubby hands now covered in my own red blood. "Apology accepted," I offered. "Now can I go kill some bad guys?"

His response was another scream; this one was because a new set of claws were digging into my shoulders…through the metal door. The curve was much duller than Dante's and at least ten times thicker and therefore agonizing as they tore through the rest of my jacket and the flesh beneath it. In the next moment something –my bets were on Psycho-puppy off his leash– was attempting to pull me through the door, which would have effectively seared me into many, many pieces. Dante wasn't really helping either. He climbed over me like a jungle gym, one foot almost crushing my balls and the other pressing my thigh and therefore body in the opposite direction from the werewolf claws. I grunted at tearing in my shoulder muscles and tried to plugged the Desert Eagle against the rent one of those wolf talons were making. Dante got there first, and what he did made me realize his plunging claws around my collarbone was a frickin' love tap in comparison to what he could already do when he wanted to.

His claws sunk into Pyscho-puppy's right paw and ripped back toward himself, not only cleaving each toe in half, but splicing the claw like it was a slice of white bread. Wolfman howled in a manner that sound like my son'd just hacked off his balls, but those thick talons retreated on both sides, letting me spin around, shove my Eagle through a long gash and then I turned my head and prayed that this didn't explode back into my face. Dante's face was cupped against my bloody shoulder and away from the blast; I wasn't that irresponsible a father.

The bullet passed through the door, exploding just on the other side. There was another howl of frenzied pain that I shared with a hiss of my own as the hot debris from the detonation sprayed against my cheek and neck. I rolled into the frame of the open door, tucking Dante against my chest, but was on one knee and discharging the rest of the clip into six of the werewolves within the warehouse in the next second.

I caught a glimpse of the carnage and felt my stomach roil. Not because the floor was now splattered with enough blood to be the next installment in a Jackson Pollock gallery, or the gore of entrails and sliced fur-covered meat littering the spaces between fallen wolves. Castiella and Niko could hold their own against the four horsemen of the apocalypse; I had no doubt in their skills and wasn't at all surprised to see very little blood on either of them. What had me suddenly nauseous was the smell of gasoline thick in the air. Several of the old drums has been crushed by bodies tossed aside or slashed by claw and blade and they weren't empty as I'd originally thought. One spark and this place would light up like a firework factory during a haphazard smoke break. One more spark, I guessed, because I'd been tossing up a few already with my explosive rounds.

I hoisted Dante off my shoulder and pressed him against the small alcove between the crease of the open sliding door and the brick siding of the building. He cried out a little when the rough-handling knocked his new wings against the siding. "Stay still, Dante. You're going to Rafferty's okay? You be good. We'll pick you up soon."

I didn't expect him to understand me, but some part of him inherently knew I was sending him away from me. He clasped at one of my arms, digging in with just his sticky fingers. His wide gray eyes searched mine and his face started scrunching up to cry. "I will be back for you."

"Daada," he whined and, holy shit, who would have though that little voice could do so much to my usually stagnant emotions. I leaned forward and kissed his forehead.

"I love you, little Ace."

I smelled the pungent aroma of doggy breath, before I even heard the growl. I didn't look. I could feel one of them at my back, several of them—reinforcement ass-sniffers coming to play. They were prowling the streets toward the mouth of the warehouse, late for the party, but not for the show. I opened the gate behind Dante, holding him around his ribcage so when I shoved him through it wouldn't jostle too much. I pushed him, trying not to think of the look in his eyes as betrayal, and then something really fucked up happened.

Dante's fingers caught my sleeve, anchoring him to the chaos. I could have easily shook him off and let him fall through the swirling gray tear behind him, but there was a twinge inside me. Like when Cassie took my pinpoint of a gate and made it large enough for us to tumble out of Tumulus almost a year ago. Someone just made my gate their bitch. I saw it shift, just a few millimeters to the right. I caught Dante's little wrist and pulled him back into my arms, instinctively knowing this wasn't Cassie's doing. I saw the swipe of a pure white hand capped with oil-black razors slice through the shifting gray of the gate; just out of reach of my son's tattered shirt. If I hadn't pulled him back, they would have got him.

The wolves circled around like hyenas around a carcass that a lion just stole from them, too frightened to engage, but more than willing to take whatever sloppy seconds were given to them. Well, I wasn't about to be anyone's sloppy seconds, so fuck the lion and fuck the hyenas too. Fuck all the carnivores of the Serengeti. I snapped another magazine into the Eagle around Dante's shivering body and unloaded half of it into the gate, took it back as my own, and slammed it shut. And then I empty the rest of the exploding rounds into the new pack on the street; I couldn't use them inside the warehouse anyway.

They had been startled by the appearance of the Auphe as much as I had been, but they were slow to recover. I took out another six –two of them with one bullet even. There were still plenty of bared fangs to go around, but at this point (with the Auphe near and stirred up) I wasn't in the mood for battle anymore. "Cas, Nik! Out! Now!"

They both knew a retreat call when they heard one; now if either of them could swallow their pride and adhere to it was the question. I couldn't see my brother anymore –that didn't help my nerves– but Cassie was shoving her short sword through the burly chest of Psycho-puppy, finally taking the singed bastard to his dog house in the fiery pits of hell. I caught her eye and hoped my expression told her just how screwed we were about to be. There was blood in the back of my throat so I knew my nose was ringed with it. I couldn't tell because I had plenty of my blood and the spray of blood from Psycho-pup's now eight-toed paw dripping down the side of my face. Gate number one was an utter fucking failure and I wasn't sure if taking back my gate from the bastards was number two. Gate number three could kill me. And while I was more than willing to chance it for Dante, I wasn't willing to risk dropping him into Tumulus on my deathbed if they pulled the same trick twice.

"Go!" Cassie shouted. She swung the blade over head, ducked under the launching werewolf behind her, and gutted him from throat to tail before he even hit the ground. "I'll get your brother. Be right behind you."

I had one more reload of bullets for the Eagle and then I would have to switch to the knife or (if I could get to it) the .38 strapped to my ankle. I wasn't sure where to put Dante at this point, but he seemed very comfortable, with his little legs clutching my sides and his arms wrapped around my neck. It left both arms free for me even if I kinda felt like I had a twenty-pound monkey hanging on me. I didn't want him on my back though; wolves liked to charge from behind, as one did the moment I locked the last magazine in place. I swung around and plugged a round into the furball's mouth, watching with a vicious smirk as it sailed through the roof and splattered brain goo all over the broken sidewalk. I hopped over the body and started to make a break for it. Running down the center of the road with werewolves tailing me might not have been the best idea, but I was banking on them being as single-minded as they usually were and going after Cassie. No such luck.

I pistol whipped one of them before they tackled me, but the second and the third took my legs out from under me, one from a charge at my knees and the other from clamping down on my ankle and tearing it away from my body. When I heard the rip –flat on my back with my air currently gone from my lungs– I thought for sure that I'd just lost a foot. It wasn't long for it; I figured I would lose a limb at some point. But the article the werewolf started shaking about like a struggling rat wasn't my bloody stub of a foot, but my back up piece. And when it chopped down gleefully on its new toy, half the wolf's head when up like a blender left uncapped. Tooth to trigger; someone should have taught that pup gun safety.

I would have laughed if I had any air to spare. Dante laughed. He laughed and clapped his hands together like that was the most entertaining thing in the world. That was when I realized he was no longer in my arms. I forced my body up and reached for him before he toddled off. I had to change direction though, swinging the barrel of the gun out to tag and bag another werewolf. This one was Kin, I recognized him from the Ninth Circle. Guess I just killed another of Ish's patrons, hope that didn't cost me tips.

There was a flash of fur to my left and heavy paws slammed against my chest, taking me back down on the asphalt. I grunted; what little oxygen I'd regained was shoved right out again. Fetid heat tossed some loose pieces of hair out of my face and a little spittle collected against my cheek when I turned my head to reach for my son. It left my neck exposed to the heavy bastard on top of me, but that was planned. The wolf took the opening, slobbering all over my nape. His teeth just grazed my pulse before I wedged the Eagle against his peppered fur collar and fired through his rumbling gullet. Blood took the place of the drool, but it was just as awful a stench. Unfortunately, the wound wasn't fatal. I kicked at his hindquarters, putting enough force behind it to snap a few bones. That was the great thing about werewolves; when they went wolf their skinny wolf legs were fragile little twigs. It didn't always work and it would never do much more than slow them down a bit, but this time it stopped those teeth from tearing into my throat.

The wolf's claws scrabbled against my thighs and the road to find purchase, but all I cared about was getting my fingers wrapped around the edge of Dante's torn shirt. I launched the wounded werewolf off of me with a final snap kick, which flipped him onto his back against the edge of the sidewalk. I rolled, still holding onto Dante's shirt, onto my knees. "Dante, come here!"

The littlest Auphe that could, my son was crouched to half his already tiny size claws out, baby teeth bared, and downy wings fluttering like a rattlesnake's warning. If it was the first thing you'd seen of the paien, you'd probably piss yourself and not laughing. It was pretty damned creepy seeing a two-year-old ready to tear your intestines out. He was bouncing around me though, looping in a half circle and swiping at the wolves trotting just out of reach. At first I though they were just playing with him, but after I got onto me knees and started blasting into the ranks, I noticed they were much more concerned with Dante than they were with the bullets knocking several of them to their graves. They were scared of him. Perfect. I left him scuttling about at my feet as I stood for better aim.

That was probably the worse decision of my life.