“Trolls are spammers?” Julie asked.
“Oh, and so much more!” Milo exclaimed. “Open it, Trip.”
Holly tightened up on her rifle. Trip turned the key and popped the lid. The trunk appeared to be filled with a bunch of greasy rubber hoses. Suddenly, the pile moved, revealing it to be one solid mass curled into an uncomfortable fetal position. Giant clawed hands and feet had been chained together and padlocked. Two round yellow eyes opened and blinked at us. It had a pointy nose, hooked over a mouth full of dingy, blunt teeth.
“You are the suck!” the creature hissed. It started to rise. Trip moved forward, cocked one fist back and slugged the monster right in its massive mouth. The creature winced back.
I looked at Trip in surprise. He was normally the nicest person I knew. “I hate spammers,” he explained as he shook his aching hand.
“Milo?” Julie asked slowly. “Why is there a troll in your trunk?”
The little man was really excited now. “When we hit the target, we were expecting a bunch of these things, and instead only found this one. He’d fallen asleep with his head sitting on a desk with a bunch of computers running on it.”
“There was a pile a foot deep of empty energy-drink cans and Ho-Ho wrappers on the floor,” Holly added. “He’d been playing online games, arguing with random people on like fifty different internet forums, writing spam. It was really pathetic. Most of it was totally incoherent.”
“And the punctuation . . .” Trip muttered, obviously offended. “According to his MySpace page, he’s a sixteen-year-old girl named Brittany who likes to post pictures of herself in her underwear.”
The thing in the trunk stirred, glaring at each of us angrily. It was an intimidating beast, lean, with limbs that, even though they were crammed into the trunk, were obviously too long. “So internet trolls . . . are really trolls?”
Julie folded her arms. “No, Milo. You can’t keep him as a pet.”
Milo was indignant. “Of course not; I remember what happened when I tried to raise that sasquatch. How was I supposed to know it was going to eat Sam’s dog? Poor Squeaky . . .” I didn’t know if that was the name of Milo Anderson’s bigfoot or Sam Haven’s deceased pooch. Milo lifted one last bunch of papers. “Anyway, this is why I brought him back.”
The logo on this e-mail was the same sky squid as the Condition handout Myers had presented to us. I took it from him and read. The message was brief.
Attention creatures of the darkness, the Shadow Lord, High Priest of the Sanctified Church of the Temporary Mortal Condition, extends his benevolent hand in friendship. Join our mighty legion. No longer must you live in secret beneath the blighted cancer of humanity. A new age is coming. A dark new dawn breaks.
It was an invitation. It was dated several weeks ago.
The troll continued to glare at me and gnash its dirty teeth. “Are you a member of the Condition?” I asked.
“No,” it hissed. “Condition is not to be trusted.” The troll’s voice was wheezy, like its lungs were filled with cobwebs and its vocal cords were coated in rust.
I distrusted it immediately. This thing was just plain icky. “What’s your name? And I know it isn’t Brittany.”
Air escaped from its mouth in a series of puffs. Laughter. “Tell you nothing, human.”
Holly leaned forward and jammed the muzzle of her AK into the side of his head. “Start talking, spam-boy, or I’m going to let out some pent-up aggression on your face!”
That got its attention. “Okay . . . okay. Don’t let the pretty one hurt me!”
“Aw . . . he likes you,” Trip said.
“Melvin, humans call me Melvin,” the troll said quickly, raising one chained hand to protect his face. The dirty claws extended from the end of each fingertip at least half an inch. “My pack joined Condition, but Melvin stayed. Not trust Condition.”
“Where’s your pack now?” Julie asked.
“They go to join army. But trolls are lazy. He not want lazy servants. Dead servants never lazy. So he made them all dead. Now Melvin is alone. All alone . . .”
That almost made me sad. Almost. “Do you know where to find them?”
He shook his head. “Let me go free. I tell you, then you kill poor Melvin.”
Poor Melvin was an eight-foot-tall, carnivorous killing machine. Letting him go wasn’t really an option. But I needed him to talk. Maybe if I treated him with a little respect, he might open up. If that didn’t work, we could always let Holly have a crack at him. She seemed the least morally adverse to beating the truth out of something. “Let him out.”
“What, Z?” Trip asked. “Serious?” Julie looked at me like I was nuts, but didn’t say anything. She drew her .45 from her holster and held it low by her side.
Milo stepped off to the side and retrieved a Mossberg shotgun from one of the many racks. He pumped a shell into the chamber. “Don’t trust him, Owen. I’m a moderator on a forum. You can’t ever trust a troll.”
“Listen, Melvin. We’re going to let you out of the car. If you try anything stupid, we’re going to shoot your arms and legs off and then we’re going to burn you to ashes. Got it?”
“Melvin play nice,” the troll promised. He began to slowly unfold himself out of the trunk. First one long leg came out, chains clanking, until claws clicked on the concrete floor, then it took a minute to get his spindly torso out of the narrow space. Finally the troll stood, all twisted and gangly, wrists chained together in front of its narrow chest. His flesh really did look like row after row of dirty garden hose stacked into a rough humanoid shape. I had to crane my neck to look him in the eye. There was a mass of stringy black hair matted together on his head. The other Hunters kept their guns trained as I stepped closer.
“Okay, Melvin. I’m going to level with you. I really need to know how to find the Condition. Help me avenge your pack’s murder.”
He laughed again. “Not care about rest of pack. Pack was stupid. Got turned into zombies. Now they not hog Melvin’s bandwidth.” His breath stank of stale Red Bull and his teeth hadn’t been cleaned lately, if ever. “They are the Fail. No, Hunter. You let Melvin go. Then I tell you where pack went.”
I was afraid of that, but I had an idea. Twice in the last few days I had been able to live somebody else’s memories: Myers’, and only a few minutes ago, my father’s. Susan had exposed me to that cursed artifact so that I would have the ability to fight this Condition. If it worked on people, maybe it would work on monsters. If he wouldn’t tell me what I needed to know, then maybe I could just take it. It was worth a shot. I extended one hand slowly toward Melvin’s clawed hand.
“What are you doing?” Julie asked.
“Trust me.”
The troll regarded me suspiciously. Finally I touched his hand. He felt warm and squishy. Nothing happened. No black magic lightning. Nada.
Melvin screamed. “It burns! It burns!” I jerked my hand away. The other Hunters took an involuntary step back. The troll smiled, showing off row after row of rotten teeth. “I kid. I kid.” Then he head-butted me.
His rubbery skull rebounded off mine, flaring pain through my brain, sending me flailing back, blocking Julie’s shot. He moved with surprising speed for his size. One fist swung out, slamming into Holly’s stomach and knocking her to the ground. Milo blasted him in the back, the buckshot sending chunks of green meat in every direction. Melvin didn’t seem to notice. He surged forward, grabbed Trip by the shirt and tossed him headfirst into the trunk of the Crown Vic. Then Melvin slammed it shut.
My eyes were watering as I stumbled out of Julie’s way. She opened fire on Melvin, her bullets tearing into the troll. I swear he giggled as he reached past Milo, grabbing onto a huge shelf of tools, guns, machinery, assorted widgets, and pulled. The heavy shelf teetered for a second before falling over.
“Move!” Julie shouted as all of us dove for cover. The shelf came crashing down, bits and pieces flying in every direction. I rolled out of the way as a chainsaw spiraled past. Milo cried out as somet
hing landed on him.
Ankles chained together, Melvin hopped for the open roll-up door and the freedom of the forest. Trolls were amazingly fast. “Ha ha. You got pwned, bitches!” He laughed as he cleared the exit. Milo was trapped underneath the shelf and thrashing about. Julie was cursing and reloading her 1911. Holly had the wind knocked out of her and was gasping for breath. Trip was beating on the inside of the trunk. I drew my STI .45, wiped my watering eyes, and started after the escaping troll.
“Witness my perfection, newbs!” Melvin shouted as he hopped down the pavement. If he reached the fence, we were going to lose him.
Suddenly a figure appeared around the corner of Milo’s workshop and intercepted the bouncing troll. With his back toward me, I couldn’t tell who it was. A boot smashed into Melvin’s knobby knees as a large hand grabbed him by the neck. The troll went down with a screech, “No fair!” as the man wrapped his other hand around Melvin’s head.
“Wait!” I shouted, but I was too late. With a brutal twist, the troll’s neck snapped, and Melvin flopped twitching to the pavement.
The figure stood, dusted himself off, and nonchalantly turned around. The big man was wearing a black suit, black sunglasses, and black strangler gloves. I gasped.
Agent Franks nodded slightly in return.
The Goon Squad rushed around the corner and joined him. Torres, Archer, and Herzog looked exhausted. They’d apparently had a long night. “Burn it,” Franks ordered as he strode forward, gesturing back at the troll.
“How? But you . . .” I stammered.
Franks stopped in front of me. “Mornin’ . . . sunshine,” which was exactly how I had sarcastically greeted him every morning since he’d been here. I think he was enjoying my discomfort.
Julie pulled the shelf off Milo. He was flustered, but okay. Holly had gotten unsteadily to her feet. Trip was still banging on the inside of the trunk and shouting. “Would one of you guys let him out?” I asked.
“Trip’s got the keys,” Holly responded.
Archer, who struck me as the most efficient of the Feds, entered the workshop and spied an acetylene torch. “Mind if I borrow this?”
“Be my guest,” Milo responded. Archer wheeled out the torch, turned on the gas, and ignited it with a striker that was chained to the dolly.
“Who’s pwned now, punk?” Holly asked rhetorically as she rubbed her bruised stomach. “Aww, hell, that didn’t work out like we imagined.”
Milo shrugged. “Capturing him seemed like a good idea at the time.”
Trip yelled something unintelligible from inside the trunk.
“Good idea. Hold on,” Julie shouted at Archer. “Trolls regenerate. Let’s haul him down to the basement and lock him up. We can still interrogate him later.” Archer looked disappointed as he twisted the knobs and closed off the torch. It made a popping noise.
Franks glanced around at the destruction. “I can’t leave you alone, can I?”
I had always suspected that there was more to Franks than met the eye. He was unbelievably tough. Despite my background as a fighter, he had beaten me soundly and had taken inhuman amounts of damage at Natchy Bottom before going down, but that proved nothing. The fact that he was standing here now, after I had seen some of his bones sticking out twelve hours ago, indicated that he was definitely not human. “What are you?” I asked.
Franks’ face was emotionless behind those tinted sunglasses. “Hungry. Let’s get lunch.”
Franks, showing no indication that he should have been dead, ate about 7,000 calories worth of MHI’s food, while his men wandered back to the barracks to get some sleep. Apparently, threatening as many witnesses as there were during a Level 5 Containment was hard work. I was feeling it myself. I had slept for less than one hour in the last thirty, and I had met with the shadow man during part of that, so I was nearing a terminal crash, and was damn loopy at this point.
I moved the ice pack to a different spot on my face. I had a nasty bruise. “So, Franks, seriously, your arm was hanging off in pieces last night. And now you’re sitting here, all fat and happy.” I’ve had a werewolf for a boss, twice, and had seen some really bizarre stuff over the last year, so I was flexible, but I was also curious. “What the hell are you, really?”
Franks chewed his fifth microwave jumbo burrito. MHI’s stockpile of cafeteria food wasn’t exactly gourmet dining. He still hadn’t removed his sunglasses or gloves, even though we were indoors. “I’m a representative of the United States Government, here to protect you.”
“Yeah, whatever, but you aren’t normal.”
He chewed with his mouth open. “Don’t be such a racist.”
I slammed my fist into the table and left. If he possessed any emotions at all, I knew he was doing this just to tweak me. Franks grabbed his last few burritos and followed.
I needed to get some rest, but Harbinger had wanted to discuss strategy first, and had called another meeting since the arrival of my parents had blown away our original plan. Julie and Earl were already there when I arrived. Milo, Holly, and Trip arrived once they succeeded in picking the lock on the trunk lid. Because the three of them had been on the way to Bessemer for the troll hunt, and nobody had ever notified them about my leaving the compound to go after Mosh until afterward, there was no way that any of them could be the spy. Which was great, because right about now I needed all the friends I could get. I had ditched my uncommunicative bodyguard at the base of the stairs and headed for the conference room. I wanted to make this quick, because I still wanted to talk to my father. I had a lot of questions, but first things first. I had to figure out a way to hit back at these cultists.
“What happened to your face?” Earl asked as we sat down.
“Head-butted by a troll,” I grumbled.
Earl laughed at me. “I heard. I see Franks is back.”
“I thought you said he was dead,” Julie said.
“His arm was almost torn off and that’s before he got punted across the freeway, so you tell me.” I turned to Earl. “Is he like you?”
“No. I’d smell that,” he answered.
“So, what does he smell like?” Maybe Earl’s supernatural senses could give us a clue.
“Old Spice.” Earl shrugged. I put my face in my hands and groaned. “What? He does.”
“He’s scary is what he is,” Trip said. “Honestly, that man gives me the heebie-jeebies. There’s something about him that’s just not . . .” He trailed off, looking for the right word.
“Human?” Holly interjected. “He’s nominally on our side, and we’re stuck with him, so we might as well just ignore him. But yeah, I agree with you. He gives off a bad vibe. Too bad he broke Melvin’s neck before we could make him talk.”
“Because that was going so well . . .” My face really hurt.
“The troll will wake up eventually, though he’ll probably be useless.” Julie got us back on track. “So you spoke with the leader of the Condition?” I filled them in on the conversation, down to every detail I could remember, ducks and all. Earl frowned when I got to the part about how the Englishman seemed to know him personally.
He stood and walked to the wall, where the sketch artist’s rendition of our enemy was tacked. “I honestly don’t know this guy.”
I kept on. Right now it was our only lead. “It was like he slipped up. Like he knew you, Ray, Susan, even Myers. You all used to work together. Did any of you work with somebody from England?”
“Yeah, lots. We’ve worked cases over there and we’ve worked alongside Commonwealth teams like the Van Helsing Institute and even their governmental units, but I can’t think of anybody in particular.” Earl was quiet for a really long time as he studied that picture, running his hands through his thin hair. He started to speak, then shook his head, as if the idea was just too stupid to contemplate. He grew frustrated and turned away. “Hell if I know.”
“Well, what’s the plan then?” Julie asked.
“I don’t have one!” Earl snapped, which surpri
sed me. He never raised his voice at any of us, let alone his great-granddaughter. That was really out of character. He immediately apologized. “Sorry, I’m just tired is all.” He reached into his ancient leather jacket and pulled out his cigarettes, once again breaking his normal self-prohibition on smoking inside the main building. “This whole thing is pissing me off, and tomorrow’s a big day.”
“What’s tomorrow?” I was too tired to remember.
“Newbie class graduation,” Julie answered. “Esmeralda says they’re ready to go. Most of our team leads and whoever else can get off are flying in to interview and pick which ones they want.” Even as busy as our teams were right now, the leaders were going to make the time to come, because if they didn’t pick their own Newbies, then they got the leftover ones, and nobody wanted to be that team.
“Well, that’ll be fun,” I suggested.
“Too bad one of them is probably a spy,” Earl spat. That was probably what was eating him up. The very idea that one of his Hunters was working for the bad guys was blatantly offensive. In a group like this, we had to have total trust in each other. Hunters depended on their team, and by extension their whole organization, to have their backs.
“What did that oni thing tell you again?” Milo asked.
“She said that the Shadow Lord’s minion had reported that I’d left the compound in a hurry to go there. So take that for what it’s worth.”
Milo stroked his beard contemplatively. “Maybe they just have somebody hiding out in the forest with binoculars.” The idea of having a spy obviously seemed farfetched to him. He had lost his family at a young age, and had practically been raised by MHI. “Well, except that Skippy’s people hunt the forest, and they’d spot anybody who hid out there for very long.”
“We have to assume the worst,” Julie stated. “We’ve got to think about who the possible leaks are.”
“All the Newbies,” Trip supplied. “How many of them saw you leave, or heard about it after you left?” Going through that group seemed daunting.
“Esmeralda’s team. She and Cooper were with us, and one of them could have made a call when we weren’t looking,” Earl added. I noted that he didn’t mention Julie’s brother, Nate, because that was family, and therefore impossible to him, despite Nate’s father’s record for betrayal. “But I’ve known Esmeralda forever, and I just don’t see that. Cooper seems like a good kid, but he’s only been with us for a year.”