The Monster Hunters

  “Fifteen hundred, sir. He’s using the county office as a command center.”

  “How’s my Hunter? The big fella with the glass eye?”

  “We’ve got him cleaned up, sir. He’s very ill. The doctor said it could take him a while, but he should recover.”

  That was good news. Earl took his time getting dressed. Myers could wait. He was probably busy anyway, what with organizing the cover-up. This one was sure to be one hell of a doozy. Hopefully, Myers wouldn’t use it as an excuse to finally have him executed. Satisfied that he was as presentable as he could be in a borrowed set of Army digital camouflage, Earl followed the officer out to a waiting Hummer. The air was crisp and the sky was clear. Copper Lake smelled like dead werewolves, blood, and smoke. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

  Special Agent Dwayne Myers was using what had been the mayor’s office. The room was packed with MCB agents and military personnel, poring over maps and arguing loudly. Myers just frowned when Earl entered and snapped, “Everybody out. Out.”

  Earl waited as the men shuffled past him and out the door. “Hey, Dwayne.”

  “Earl.” There was no offer to shake hands or any other false pleasantries. His old teammate had aged since they’d last spoken. His skin was pale, like he’d been spending too much time indoors, his hair was thinning, and he’d lost weight that he couldn’t afford to lose. Even his suit looked more battered than normal. Myers had been run ragged. He gestured at a metal folding chair.

  Earl took a seat. He was still smoking but didn’t think the rules about not smoking inside government buildings applied after complete anarchy had set in. “So, what’s the story going to be this time?”

  “Too rural for a plausible terrorist attack. One of my junior men talked to the press too quickly, said that the mine tunnels under the town had caught on fire and that hundreds had been killed in the resulting explosion. Moron forgot it’s a copper mine, not coal. Right now I’m leaning toward radon gas. But that’s not why I wanted to talk to you.”

  Myers didn’t sit behind the desk, as Earl had expected, and instead wandered over to the window and watched a helicopter landing in the school parking lot. He didn’t speak for a very long time.

  If the MCB was going to revoke his PUFF exemption, they would’ve done it already. Something else was wrong. “I’m assuming you wanted to question my account . . .” When Myers still didn’t respond, Earl was surprised to find that he was actually concerned. Myers was a prick, but he was a reliable prick. “Are you okay?”

  “No, I’m not.” Myers shook his head and gave a sad little chuckle, still looking out the window. “It’s speeding up . . . isn’t it?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The events. More incidents every month. They don’t seem to be related, but the stats just keep climbing.”

  Monster attacks were still high. MHI was hopping, there was no doubt about that, but Myers was privy to a lot more intel than he was. He waited for the agent to continue.

  “A few years ago, we broke time, nearly opened a portal in Alabama. Scared the shit out of the entire world, but we passed it off as a natural phenomenon. Then the Arbmunep in New Zealand. You have no idea how hard that thing was to bury. Then you probably didn’t even hear about what happened in California recently. It was big, but we dropped Franks in and locked it down quick. It’s always something different . . . but they’re coming faster and faster, like never before. There are so many things I can’t even tell you about.”

  “Keeping secrets from the people is hard work, but you already know my opinion on that bullshit policy.”

  “It’s not just keeping monsters secret anymore. Something’s coming, Earl. I can feel it. It’s not just us, either. The South Africans lost a village six months ago, and we still don’t know what did it. Something big happened in a rural area in China just last week, but they won’t tell us a thing. Now this.”

  It was truly odd to have the ultra tight-lipped MCB agent speaking so freely. The government looked at contractors like MHI as a necessary evil, and that was on a good day. “Why tell me this?”

  “Because you get it. My superiors don’t. They’re in denial, and they’re getting tired of me pushing the issue. They think they can throw enough money and bodies at it and the problem will go away. . . . You know how I feel about MHI.”

  “Irrational hatred seems to be the words that come to mind.”

  “You’re reckless, careless, and dangerous, but, though it pains me to admit it, you’re also effective. Enemy of my enemy is my friend and all that. Just think about what I said. I want you to be ready, Earl. I don’t know for what, but just be ready.”

  “Point me at the fight and make sure the checks don’t bounce. MHI is always ready.”

  It was back to business as usual. Myers turned away from the window, came over and sank into a cushioned swivel chair. “Now, about your statement. Everything seems in order. According to the locals, you made a big difference here. Even Agent Stark mostly agrees with your account, though he says there was one other surviving werewolf, a sheriff’s deputy that was recently turned. So, before you can go, there’s just one thing we need to clear up about these other werewolves first. . . .”

  Earl had been honest. Mostly. “Some died in town. The last of them, including Deputy Kerkonen, were blown up at the Quinn Mine. I want the PUFF on them, the digging things, and all the undead divided up and paid to each of this town’s survivors. For the one that started all this, I’m going to demand a one-of-a-kind PUFF finding on him. He was a divine-werewolf hybrid, so he’s going to cost you big. I’ll do the paperwork myself. You’ll find that particular werewolf at the bottom of the shaft in two pieces.”

  Myers put his elbows on the desk and steepled his fingers. “Yes, about him . . .”

  “His name was Adam Conover.”

  “He doesn’t exist.”

  Earl angrily shook his head. “Don’t play games. He was government property. A pet monster gone rogue. He was one of yours.”

  “Not one of mine, Earl. Don’t bring him up again, don’t talk about him, and forget he ever existed.”

  “So, that’s how it has to be?”

  “That’s how it is.”Myers rubbed his face in his hands, as if debating what to say. “Off the record, he worked for an operation you do not want to cross. MCB is a shield. They’re a sword, or maybe a poisoned dagger would be more appropriate. They answer only to the highest levels. They’re small, but they deal with things that I wouldn’t want my agency to touch with a ten-foot pole. Nobody talks about them and lives long. Am I clear?”

  If there was one thing that werewolves knew, it was how to keep secrets. “Crystal.”

  Chapter 37

  This will be the last entry in this book. The journals began as a tool to chronicle the holes dug in my mind by a demon, and many of those holes have been filled. There are still things missing, but for the most part, my life is mine again. Up yours, Rocky. I win, you son of a bitch.

  The first book was about my history, the second was about my Hunters, and the third was about my curse. But it doesn’t feel right calling it a curse anymore. Koschei’s amulet changed me. In the four months since Copper Lake, things have been different. The change is easier to control now, and when I do transform, though the madness is still there, it does what I tell it to. Even during the full moon, I’d say I was at least half sane, and that’s a pretty decent improvement. I’ll still lock myself up, just in case, but I’m more confident than I’ve ever been. I’m in charge of the beast now, not the other way around.

  I’ve always had family, mentors, friends, and my Hunters are my pack, but in one important way, I’ve always been a lone wolf. Even my beloved wife, God rest her soul, could never fully understand my other half. Now, for the first time in my life, I’ve got someone by my side who not only understands what it’s like, but who isn’t a complete raving nut-job about it, either. I’ve been teaching Heather, but she’s a faster learner than I was.


  We’re still working the kinks out. Apparently, I can be difficult to live with sometimes. Go figure. But the last few months have been nice. Shit. I’m a master of understatement. It’s been great, some of the best times of my life. But if you expected me to write about my feelings, you sure as hell picked up the wrong journal. Let’s just say that life is good.

  Earl Harbinger stopped and looked out the cabin’s window. There had been a noise, slightly out of place, just an echo of a sound against the mountain. One hand came to rest on the Smith & Wesson sitting on the edge of the desk. The property was as isolated as possible, just a lone hunting cabin on a barren stretch of nothing a hundred miles from the nearest bit of civilization. He had bought the land a long time ago under a name that had long since ceased to exist. It was the kind of place that a man could disappear for a time; where a young, supposedly dead werewolf could practice and the only things in danger be the local animals. All of which were edible to a werewolf, but only the bears were a challenge.

  The logs in the fireplace popped. The cabin creaked against the wind. Scowling, Earl watched the Alaskan night for a while, but the out-of-place sound didn’t come again. It must have been nothing. Earl removed his hand from the gun and returned to his work.

  I was bitter at first, having chosen to be cursed again by my old nemesis. But Nikolai, evil son of a bitch that he was, had done me a favor at the bottom of that black hole. I’d thought I’d have given anything to be a man again, but I was wrong. I was always meant to be a werewolf . . . Monster and Hunter.

  This is who I am.

  “Writing again?” Heather was standing in the bedroom doorway.

  “Scribbling.” Earl put the pen down. He hadn’t sensed her come in. She could be downright stealthy when she wanted to be. “Just a few last things to fill in before we trek out tomorrow.”

  Julie was going to have a plane waiting for them in the nearest town. An identity had been prepared for Heather to use while MHI’s attorneys worked on getting a provisional PUFF exemption. They had to tread carefully, but that’s why Earl paid them a thousand bucks an hour. MHI had done fine without him there, babysitting, but he hadn’t killed a monster since November and was starting to get twitchy. The snows were melting. It was time to return to the world.

  “You really think I’m ready?” Heather asked.

  “Ready as one of us can ever be.”

  “You had three years to work on it,” she pointed out.

  They’d had this discussion several times. “I had to learn all this from scratch. You’ve got resources, know-how, and one hell of a handsome advisor.”

  “You’re rich, too.” Heather folded her arms and watched him with a bit of a smirk. As she had come to accept her new state, Earl found that she’d become increasingly lovely. In his opinion, there was nothing nicer than a pretty girl with the confidence to beat up a polar bear. “Don’t underestimate the attractiveness of the being a millionaire part. Mom always wanted me to find a rich guy.”

  “I invested a few PUFFs way back when. That’s the power of compound interest for you.”

  “You’re right. I’m ready.” Heather smiled at him. “I’m just going to miss our luxury accommodations is all. Wrap it up, would you? We’ve got a long trip tomorrow. Come to bed.”

  “I’ve just got to finish this. When we get to Cazador, I’m going to bury this down in the archives. Maybe it’ll come in handy someday for someone else.”

  “You’re pretty serious about recording everything for posterity.” Heather came over to where he was sitting, draped her arms around his neck, and whispered in his ear. “But I bet I can distract you.”

  A grin split Earl’s face. “Oh, really?” You got to know someone rather well when you spent an entire winter isolated with them, and Earl knew exactly how distracting Heather could be.

  The sound came again in the middle of the night. It was louder this time, and the suddenness of it launched both of them out of bed. Earl was getting dressed as he reached the front door. The noise of the fighter jet lingered on the mountain for a moment. Another aircraft flew past a minute later, skimming terribly low over the lake. It passed the cabin close enough for the noise to rattle snow from the roof.

  There were munitions under the wing.

  “What was that?” Heather called.

  “A flight of F-16s,” Earl answered.

  Heather was behind him, buttoning her shirt. “Maybe they’re just on a training flight?”

  The first one was banking back over the mountain. “Doubt it.”

  “But . . . you’re okay, and they think I’m dead!”

  The fighters gained a bit of altitude and began a long circle around the cabin. Earl watched the orange glow of their exhaust. That was an awful lot of firepower. There was another noise in the distance. A helicopter. “We’ve got company coming. Might as well get presentable.”

  “Should we run?”

  “Naw,” Earl shook his head. “That’s the thing about Hunters. Once they find you, if you run, it just makes them want to chase you that much harder.”

  The conflict on her face was obvious to read. Instinct was telling her to flee, but she trusted him. “You’d better be right, Earl.”

  “We’ll see what they’ve got to say. Besides, if they were really out to get us, they’d just have dropped a bomb on the place.”

  Earl splashed some water on his face, finished getting dressed, and then confirmed that their belongings were ready to go. They’d already been packed to leave in the morning. Heather was too nervous to talk. Earl did his best to comfort her, but he didn’t know what was happening, either. You didn’t send the air force if you were planning nothing more than a friendly visit. “Stay inside. They might not know about you,” Earl warned Heather before giving her a gentle kiss. “I’ll be right back.”

  “You’d better,” she warned him. “I don’t want to do CPR on you again, okay?”

  “You’re really good at it, though.”

  He closed the door behind him. There was an overhang to protect the entrance from the snow, so Earl lit a cigarette and settled down beneath it to wait. Two minutes later, a Chinook helicopter with no markings landed in front of the cabin. Four armored figures disembarked as soon as the ramp hit the ground. They fanned out in a protective circle while a fifth man strolled down the ramp. The stranger walked directly toward the cabin without even taking the time to orient himself. The four soldiers formed a line behind him and followed.

  The stranger was tall, and despite his heavy coat, obviously thin. He trudged along through the snow at an energetic clip. Despite their camouflage-painted, ceramic-plate armor that made MHI’s heavy suits look svelte in comparison, the soldiers kept up. As they got closer, Earl noted that the leader’s head was bared to the elements, and that he was completely shiny-bald. He was also wearing a pair of oddly colored, orange-lensed sunglasses, even though it was pitch dark.

  The Chinook’s twin rotors were still turning, which made it difficult to understand the stranger’s greeting. He had to repeat himself as he got closer. “Good evening, Mr. Harbinger.”

  Earl just nodded. “Your helicopter’s messing up my landscaping.”

  The soldiers came to a silent halt a polite twenty feet away. Their leader closed the remaining distance and stopped at the overhang. “It won’t be there long.” The stranger appeared to be in his forties, six-and-a-half feet tall, extremely long-limbed and with skin so pale that if Earl hadn’t smelled the warm blood pumping, he would’ve suspected the man was undead. He was borderline gaunt, but his movements gave off a sense of athleticism. He seemed human, just an odd one. “I’m Mr. Stricken.”

  Earl made a show of not being able to hear over the chopper. “Sorry? What was that? Strickland?”

  “Stricken,” he repeated.

  “What? No handshake?” Earl asked.

  “I’ve heard your reputation on the subject,” Stricken said. “My hobby is classical piano, so I’d prefer you not to break all the bones in
my hand. May I come in?”

  “No. What do you want?”

  “Just a moment of your time. I can be polite or not. Your decision.” Stricken took off the orange shades, revealing albino eyes. “And I would like to speak to Ms. Kerkonen as well.”

  Earl had been afraid of that. “Deputy Kerkonen died at the Quinn Mine.”

  “We both know that’s not true. My time’s valuable, Mr. Harbinger. Believe me, this isn’t my idea of fun. Cold doesn’t agree with me. Bring her out.”

  Earl looked over at the four soldiers. Their helmets had opaque full-face visors, so it was impossible to read their expressions. He had no doubt he could take them. It was the F-16s he didn’t know what to do about. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Your file said that you could be a pain in the ass. A satellite has been passing over this area every day for weeks. There’s a redheaded woman here, approximately five foot eight, one hundred and thirty pounds. Nice rack. Spends her free time turning into a werewolf and terrorizing the squirrels. Wave, dumb-shit. You’re on camera,” Stricken said. Earl tilted his head to peer suspiciously around the overhang. “Don’t bother looking, you idiot, you can’t see it. It’s in fucking outer space.”

  “She can control it. Just like me.”

  Stricken’s laugh was mean. “You think I give a shit? You think I’m MCB? They’re losers. You think they’d get permission to go rerouting satellites for one measly lycanthrope? If popping her was my mission, I’d have vaporized this whole valley with one phone call.” The laughter died, and Stricken’s pink eyes bored into Earl. “Call her out.”

  This man wasn’t to be trifled with. Earl opened the door a crack. “Heather?”

  “I heard,” she muttered as she came through the door and stood proudly at Earl’s side. “What do you want from us?”