The Monster Hunters

  “After the mine collapsed, I got a job working for the county,” Aino explained as he unlocked the padlock and pulled it from the latch. Earl hurried over and lifted the giant garage’s door. He was careful not to make too much noise, but once it got out of his reach, it slid up the rest of the way automatically and made a considerable racket. Earl cringed and looked around the county vehicle yard. There were several school buses, snowplows, and tractors parked inside the fence, but there was nothing moving between them.

  Aino ignored the noise. “Only worked part-time, ya know, but I work on these here things. This one was all prepped and ready to go for the storm. It would be out clearing the roads now, except, lucky for us, the safety on the augers is broke. Meaning the blades won’t automatically stop when they hit something solid. Which considering what we’re gonna do with her, I see as a bonus.” He let his flashlight play over the big orange vehicle in the shop.

  “It’s a tractor,” Earl pointed out. Earl didn’t know much about farm equipment, but it just looked like a big orange tractor to him.

  Aino snorted. “Tractor? This ain’t no tractor, boy. This is a custom-built, top-of-the-line snow cutter. . . . Snow cutter?” Earl shrugged. “No? Guess they don’t have these where you’re from.” The diminutive man walked around one huge, chain-clad tire. “We’re talking two thousand horsepower. She can tear through anything. When snow’s as wet and heavy as around these parts, you need power.”

  “And what’s to keep the monsters from climbing into that little glass cab with us?”

  “Well, it’s your job to keep them off with all your fancy machine guns.” Aino stopped at the front of the vast machine. He grabbed one edge of a blue tarp and yanked it off. “While I give the bastards this!”

  Earl whistled when he saw the wall of blades. There were three vast steel screws, each one reflecting light from the ground-sharp edges. The blades filled a giant scoop that covered the entire front of the tractor. A small car could fit in there.

  “She can throw tons of snow an hour, and with no safety I can feed trees into it.” Aino put his light beam on the blades. “Werewolves go in here”—he let the light climb up to a two-foot-wide spigot coming out the top—“and come out here. Only in itty-bitty pieces.”

  “Your secret weapon is a really big snow-blower.”

  “The biggest,” Aino corrected. “Biggest fucking snow-blower ever in the world.”

  “I’d been hoping for an armored vehicle, but we’re out of time, and I don’t have any better ideas. Fire it up, my fine Finnish friend. I’ll go grab some more guns from my truck. Then let’s go rescue your town.” Aino gave him a lopsided, homicidal grin, then went to work.

  Earl ran back outside and opened the tailgate of his truck. There was a thump as Heather rammed herself against the lid of the box. The heavy latch barely even budged. There was no way the werewolf inside could get enough momentum to break out unless somebody lifted that bar. Otherwise, it meant waiting for the time lock to open. “Sorry, Heather, but you’ll thank me later.” He patted the box then began pulling out cases.

  There wouldn’t be room to use the sniper rifle, so Earl left the .300 Winchester Magnum behind. He made sure he had a revolver on each side and more moonclips than he could count. Chest pouches filled with Thompson mags. Check. Might as well bring some 50-round drums, too. He’d had Milo modify them to work in the old GI-issue Thompsons. And since he was going to be riding, rather than walking . . . He slung the Thompson around his back so he could use both hands to pull out the biggest nylon bag of all.

  The Carl Gustav was just in case those freakish creatures that stunk like the Old Ones or the other Alpha turned up. Maybe that amulet granted immortality, and then again, maybe nobody had ever bothered to shoot the son of a bitch wearing it with an 84mm high-explosive round from a recoilless rifle before. Immortality was a relative term in this business.

  Heather made a sad whine through the wall of the container. “Yep, I know. I won’t blow him up until I get that amulet for you. I promise.”

  Earl grunted under the weight as he got the big nylon bag slung over his other shoulder. It was easy for a werewolf to forget how much good armament weighed, but not so easy for a man. He almost left Aksel Kerkonen’s old Mosin Nagant rifle behind, but decided against it. There was something special about that odd silver ammunition, and it was related to that journal. He might need it. Aksel had defeated the bearer of the amulet once before, and it would be foolish to discount that.

  What else? He had pouches for hand grenades. Might as well fill those, too. Inside the shop, the snow cutter’s engine turned over with a roar and a belch of diesel smoke. There was a sudden howl from the box, and Heather began to thrash. “Easy. You’ll be fine here. I’ll be back . . . Probably.” She made the same noise. It sounded familiar. Earl was no longer in touch with his instincts. They were buried too deep on a human. Then she growled, so low and dangerous he could barely hear it over the tractor.

  Heather was trying to communicate. She was trying to warn him.

  Earl turned just as the vulkodlak swung. Ducking, the claws parted the air where his head had been. He stumbled back, raising the Mosin as it struck again. Claws tore a divot from the wooden stock. Earl retreated as fast as he could without tripping over his own feet.

  The vulkodlak had been a young man. He was dressed like he’d been killed in bed. The bites were obvious on his neck and chest. It was as if he’d been brought back to life, and partially twisted into a werewolf, but left trapped in between and awkward. One arm ended in a werewolf’s claw and the other ended in a human hand. His limbs were misshapen and clumsy, and it was only that distorted nature that allowed Earl to avoid being torn apart.

  It struck again. The rifle blocked the hit but was torn from Earl’s hands and sent sailing into the night. Before another attack could land, Earl swept his hands down and grasped both revolvers. The twin Smith & Wessons came up spitting flame. The vulkodlak stumbled back as he stitched bullets through its naked chest and into its face, but it didn’t go down. Extending an arm, Earl drove the muzzle right into one of the creature’s eye sockets, squishing the white orb back into its skull, and fired. The expanding gasses of the muzzle blast actually blew the other eye out in a white spray.

  It tottered for a long second before dropping into the snow. “Tough bastards,” Earl noted, not that anyone could hear him over the tractor as it came rolling far too fast out of the shop. It was too far to one side, and the edge of the scoop ripped through the wall. Earl had to step away to keep from being run down. The engine roared as it was given too much throttle. The blades began churning with a terrible metallic roar. He couldn’t figure out what Aino was doing, but then he realized that the driver was distracted by the two vulkodlak that were trying to smash their way into the tractor’s cab. Earl couldn’t hear the words Aino was shouting but could recognize that he was angrily cursing the monsters that were trying to eat him.

  Shrugging out from under the heavy Carl Gustav, Earl stuck his partially empty revolvers back into the holsters and ran after the tractor. The tractor spun around in the county yard, sucking up snow in the whirling blades and spraying it in a magnificent arc across the sky. Earl swung his Thompson around and took it in both hands.

  The snow cutter clipped the side of a school bus hard enough to shove the entire thing a few feet. Yellow metal was torn apart in a shower of sparks as soon as the blades touched. The tractor veered to the right as a vulkodlak drove its fist through the window of the cab. Aino threw himself to the floor to avoid the claws, but the creature forced itself against the spreading safety glass. Aino would be dead in seconds.

  Earl shouldered his Thompson and took careful aim. Blood puckered up the vulkodlak’s side, forming pink mist clouds before the tractor’s lights. It lost its grip and tumbled down the moving tractor, only to disappear under the rear tires with a sick crunch. The tire kept on turning, painting the snow red behind it.

  One more. But it was on the
other side of the cab, and Earl didn’t have a shot. The wheel had been turned. Aino was no longer steering, and the snow cutter turned back toward the shop, scraping and tearing its way along the county vehicles. Earl ran, trying to position himself for a clean shot. The snow-cutter continued doing a doughnut around the yard in a widening arc, and Earl realized it was heading right for his truck.

  “No!” It slammed the edge of its scoop directly into the Ford, t-boning it with a wall of spinning blades. “Not my truck!” The MHI truck didn’t even slow the snow cutter. The truck was lifted and shoved sideways, then crushed and scraped along the garage building, slowly levered upward until it rolled free onto its side. “Awww! Son of a bitch!”

  The edge of the snow scoop hit the cinder-block wall of the county garage. The tractor lurched to a violent stop, and the other vulkodlak was dislodged from the cab and flung into the snow. Earl opened fire on the run. The creature didn’t even have time to rise before he’d nearly decapitated it with a long burst of silver bullets. He stopped long enough to shoot an additional five or six more rounds through the vulkodlak’s head. “I was fond of that truck!”

  The tractor was stopped, but still running. His truck was toast. There was no movement inside the cab. “Aino! Are you ok—” Earl didn’t see the final vulkodlak until it was too late. It crashed into him, shoulder-checking him to the ground. He hit hard enough to punch through the cushion of snow to impact the hard pavement beneath.

  It was on him in a second, claws flashing. He raised his forearm and felt the bone-jarring impact as the claws struck minotaur hide. His other hand raised the Thompson into the beast’s belly and force-fed it a string of .45 slugs. The vulkodlak swatted the muzzle aside as it rolled away.

  Struggling to his feet, Earl tried to lift the Thompson, but the creature circled back and hit him again. Claws struck his side, bouncing off the coat, but the impact staggered him back. The monster darted away.

  Disoriented, Earl searched for the target. This one was quicker than the others. There! It was coming around, another shadow flickering in the darkness. This vulkodlak was different from the others, more like a werewolf that had died and been partially twisted back into a human. Its skin was burned to charcoal, and red flesh twisted beneath where the black split open to weep congealed blood. Earl recognized him immediately, because he’d already killed him once before.

  Buckley charged. Earl fired from the hip. The bullets took the vulkodlak’s legs out from under it, but it still reached him, taking them both to the ground. Buckley sunk his teeth into Earl’s shoulder. The pressure was unbearable, and Earl shouted as he was shaken. The teeth didn’t penetrate the hide. That’s another one, Travis. Gun trapped between them, Earl drew his Bowie knife and slammed it between Buckley’s ribs, again and again, as Buckley gnashed and ripped with his fangs.

  Realizing that he didn’t have a killing grip, Buckley released his jaws and leapt aside. Earl clambered to his feet. It was a rematch, only now Buckley was the strong one and Earl was the weak. Buckley looked down at the new gashes through its torso, then back at Earl, understanding that this prey could bite back. Buckley began to circle.

  Earl lifted the knife protectively. The Thompson was dangling against his chest, but the bolt was forward. It was empty. There was no time to reload. Steam hissed from Earl’s mouth as he shouted to be heard over the roaring blades. “So, Buckley, how many times does somebody have to kill you before you stay dead?”

  Arms spread wide, Buckley leapt. Earl stepped aside as he lashed out. The thick Bowie sliced Buckley’s bicep to the bone. The vulkodlak didn’t seem to feel the steel. Buckley’s momentum carried him away, but he immediately turned back to charge again.

  He’d been tagged. Earl blinked as he felt the sudden burn where a claw had sliced across his cheek. Blood rolled down his face. “That the best you can do?” Earl wiped it away. He moved a few feet, trying to get the blades directly behind him. They were close enough that he could feel their artificial wind. Vulkodlak were tough, but hopefully they weren’t very bright. “Better monsters than you have tried to take me, boy. Come on!”

  Buckley charged. Earl sidestepped as he stabbed, hoping to get Buckley closer to the snow cutter, but the vulkodlak had anticipated the move and adjusted. One solid forearm caught Earl’s chest, and both of them went down hard. The side of Earl’s skull slammed into the steel edge of the snow cutter’s scoop.

  The impact nearly knocked him out. Earl was facedown in the snow. Head swimming, only a foot from the whirling death blades of a tractor that was only not rolling forward because one corner was jammed into a building. Groaning, he rolled over. The animated corpse of Deputy Joe Buckley was standing over him. The hilt of the Bowie knife was sticking out of Buckley’s neck. Blood ran down the vulkodlak’s cracked chest and splattered onto Earl.

  Buckley’s claw wrapped around the knife handle. Blood leaking sluggishly, he jerked it out and tossed it into the snow. Buckley cocked his head to the side, white eyes gleaming. This time it was going to bite something unarmored, and that would be the end. Earl got ready. The least he could do would be to shove them both into the blades while it was distracted eating him. “Nobody eats me and gets away with it.”

  Something moved in Earl’s peripheral vision. It took a moment to focus past Buckley’s gleaming teeth to see that the stainless-steel lid of the prison-coffin was dangling, broken and open inside the rolled-over pickup. Earl had never seen a red werewolf before.

  Buckley didn’t know she was there until it was too late. Claws flashed from the right, from the left, flaying Buckley’s back open. He turned, stepping off Earl, as Heather cleaved him twice more, crossing an X of lacerated flesh clear through his ribs. He raised one arm, and she batted it down. The other came up, and she took it off cleanly at the elbow. Buckley’s hand spun off into the night.

  A vulkodlak was no match for a real werewolf.

  Heather lashed out, spraying blood across the yard. Buckley was crumbling, falling, but that wasn’t enough. Heather was out for murder. She slashed his throat clear to vertebrae, then sunk her fingers into his neck, down, until she caught his sternum, and using it like a handle, hurled the vulkodlak into the roaring blades. Buckley simply exploded. One instant he was there; the next he was replaced with a rapidly expanding cloud of meat. A second later blood belched out the top spout, spreading a fine mist of Buckley into the air.

  The werewolf stood, heaving, a dark red that was visually striking against the snow. No longer recognizably human at all, Heather turned toward Earl and bared her teeth.

  Earl went for his gun.

  She effortlessly caught his wrist, claws curling around it, hard. Her fangs were inches from his neck. His other hand was pinned beneath his body. She had him. Earl sighed. “Better to die by your hands than some filthy undead.”

  Her nose pressed against his bloody cheek. He knew that she was smelling him, checking for the fear smell of prey.

  But Earl Harbinger had no fear, just acceptance, as he closed his eyes and waited for death. There would be no reasoning, no begging. He’d be gone, but hopefully he’d made a difference. He was dying as a man, free of the curse, which was far more than he’d ever dreamed of.

  Hopefully, she’d do better than he had. He spoke as clearly as possible. “Listen, Heather, you might remember my words later. No matter what happens. I know you can beat the curse. There’s a journal in my pocket. I want you to have it. It’s what I’ve learned. Maybe it’ll help you. If you remember, come back and get it off my body when you’re you again.”

  Her breath was hot against his neck. The coarse hair abraded his skin. It would be over soon. Lips peeled back, and he could feel the teeth against his neck.

  She licked his cheek.

  Uncertain, Earl cracked open his eyes. Heather stepped back and growled. Her eyes were shining gold, the same as his would have, only there was something different there that he’d not ever seen in another werewolf. Something surprising.

  Rea
son.

  “I’ll be damned.” He could have sworn that the terrifying werewolf actually nodded. Heather took another few steps back, lifted her head, and howled in triumph. She’d destroyed Buckley, so she’d earned that.

  “Earl, look out!” Aino shouted.

  Earl turned to see Aino aiming down the sights of the old Finnish rifle. “Wait!” Earl cried, but it was too late. Aino fired. “No!”

  Heather studied him quizzically and seemed to shrug. Then she turned and ran from the yard, barely even slowing to leap over the fence to disappear into the snow.

  Aino hadn’t shot Heather? Earl rolled over. So what had . . . Oh. His target had been the first vulkodlak that Earl had shot in the eye. It had gotten back up, and he hadn’t even heard it coming over the tractor. Judging from what that odd silver bullet had done to the vulkodlak, the projectiles had to be magic. Fully half of the creature’s torso was gone, spread across ten feet of the shop’s wall.

  His head was throbbing as he got up, but being close to those moving blades was just plain unnerving. “I thought you were going to shoot Heather.”

  “Why would I do that? She seemed friendly enough. Did you see that shot?” Aino asked, limping up. “Voi kyrpa! Son of a bitch blew up!”

  Earl stumbled over. “Nifty. Gimme that rifle. We’ve got a town to save.”

  Chapter 26

  There was blood on the carpet. He stared at the floor and the congealing puddle between his feet before he realized that the blood had come from the interior of his skull. The pain had subsided, but he could only vaguely recall the sensation of his head coming apart. There was something hard in his mouth, crunching and rolling between his teeth. Clumsily, he spit it into his hand. It was bone and lead fragments.

  What happened?

  Fully awake now, Nikolai took stock of the situation. They were in the living room, sitting on the Alpha’s couch. Harbinger was gone. His nose told him the house was empty except for the stink of the Alpha and the unnatural stink of the tar-soaked skeleton. He remembered pulling the trigger, the sudden flash, then nothing.