The Monster Hunters

  I was too preoccupied to wave back. Scanning the crowd, I saw just about everyone I expected to. Even my parents were there as guests watching the spectacle, but no Grant. I hadn’t formulated a plan yet. Dragging him out of the room by the hair was probably not the most discreet tactic, but it was the one that I was currently running with.

  I waited. Maybe he was coming. The Goon Squad was there, still pretending to be Newbies. Torres was the last of the undercover Feds to arrive, and when he saw me standing at the doorway, he paused and waited next to me. “You okay?” he asked, ever helpful. He must have seen the expression on my face, and grew worried. “Owen?”

  I didn’t answer. The last of the Newbies pushed past me, looking for seats. The gang was all here, over sixty Hunters. Julie handed Earl a microphone and he rapped it sharply. The intercom speakers thumped.

  “Sorry, but I have to use this thing,” Earl said, “Julie didn’t think that it was fair that the Hunters manning the security room couldn’t listen in. I don’t know what she’s thinking, because it ain’t like I’m much of a talker.” The room laughed.

  The security room. Julie had scheduled it so that at least two people were in there manning the cameras continuously since Susan’s visit. I exited and ran down the hallway. Grant might be there, and if he wasn’t, I could use the cameras to find him.

  I had always suspected it could be him, the slimy little prick. He had left the company with his tail between his legs. I bet he had been an easy mark for the Condition. I didn’t know what they were paying him, but whatever it was, wasn’t enough. He had come crawling back at such a convenient time . . . We were such suckers. Grant had probably jumped at the chance to betray us when he had found out it was all about killing me. Black anger welled up in my heart. Knowing the kind of evil we were fighting, it wouldn’t surprise me in the least if his payment was in the form of Julie. Oh, this was personal now.

  Earl’s voice was tinny over the intercom as he got down to business. “Welcome, Hunters. And I can actually say that now. Hunters. Because there aren’t any Newbies in this room now, just equals.” The sound that came next had to have been applause, but it was hard to tell.

  I flew down the stairs to the basement. The door to the security room was straight ahead down a long hallway. I stuck one hand under my shirt and put it on the butt of my gun.

  “No need to clap. Besides, if you get Boss Shackleford clapping he’s likely to hurt himself with that hook.” More laughter. “Just kidding, Boss.”

  My blood was pounding in my ears. If Grant was in that room, I was going to end his miserable life. At the end of the hall, the door was closed.

  “Young Hunters, look at these people sitting in front of you. These are the finest leaders MHI has ever had. I’ve worked with every single one of them, and wouldn’t hesitate to trust my life to their hands. Regardless of who you’re assigned to today, you can know that you’re with the very best. Well, except for Sam . . . for those of you stuck with him . . . sorry about that.” There was a loud response, but it was indecipherable over the intercom. More laughter. “I’d put the microphone there, but I don’t think that’s legal in Alabama.”

  My boots skidded across the concrete as I reached the security room. I grabbed the doorknob. It was locked.

  “Before Esmeralda reads off your name and your assignment, let me just say that this is the most successful training class we’ve ever conducted. I’ve interviewed you all. I’ve seen your records. I’ve watched you improve. I’ve been impressed, and I don’t impress easy.”

  I rapped on the door. “Come on . . .” I whispered.

  “When you came here a few short months ago, you were all survivors. That’s what set you apart from the rest of the world. A survivor has heart. A will to win. A desire to live. You were survivors, but now you’re something more . . .”

  My pounding increased in intensity. Nobody was answering.

  “You are Hunters.”

  Something was wrong. I stepped back, and with a roar, slammed my boot into the steel door. Pain shot up my injured ankle. The frame cracked, but it held.

  “Survivors take care of themselves. Hunters take the fight to the other side. We are the final line against evil.”

  I stepped back again, readying myself to kick the door again. Somebody shouted from down the hall. “Owen!” I spun to see who it was.

  “We will hold the line.”

  It was Grant. He was walking down the hall toward me, five yards away. His arms were held wide and he had his phone in one hand. “What the hell are you doing to that door?”

  My .45 appeared in my hand and I punched it toward him. “Don’t move! Don’t you fucking move!”

  “Whoa! Whoa! Calm down!” Grant cried. He was wearing his armored suit so I aimed at the junction of his nose and eyes.

  “What are you doing down here?” I shouted.

  “Somebody said you were looking for me,” he said calmly. “Now put the gun down. You’re acting nuts.”

  “I’m nuts? I’m not the traitor, you son of a bitch.”

  Grant paused, a painful look crossing his handsome features. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Earl’s voice was just background noise now.

  My gun didn’t waver. If he so much as twitched I was going to blow his brains out. “Don’t you lie to me,” I hissed. “I know all about your messages.” I nodded at the phone. “Why’d you do it?”

  His eyes flicked unconsciously to the device in his hand. “Just calm down, Owen.” He slowly put the phone back into his pocket, then put his hands back up.

  “Why, Grant? Do you hate me that much? Do you hate Julie that much? Are we talking jealousy, or is it something worse? Do you actually believe what the Condition stands for? Tell me, because I really want to understand before I kill you.”

  He was blinking rapidly, knowing that I wasn’t bluffing. “It isn’t what you think.”

  That sealed his fate. I tightened my grip. The safety was off. My finger was on the trigger.

  “Wait!” someone ordered from the direction I had come.

  I kept the gun on Grant, but turned my head slightly to see. It was MCB Agent Herzog. Directly behind her was Agent Torres. They must have followed me downstairs. “Get Franks. I found your spy.” I turned my attention back to Grant. “And tell him to hurry, because if he wants to interrogate him, he’ll need his own necromancer.”

  “Listen to me,” Grant pleaded. “Yeah, I’ve been spying on MHI, but for a good reason. Let me explain. I’m trying to help.”

  “I’ve heard that line before, you sack of—” Then I thought of something. Nobody had answered the door to the security room, even after all the noise I had made. I lowered my gun slightly, and threw a brutal side kick into the steel. This time the bolt tore through the frame. “Don’t try to run or do anything stupid. You know I don’t miss,” I ordered.

  I risked a quick glance into the security room.

  There was blood everywhere.

  “Son of a bitch . . .” I covered the distance to Grant quickly, my gun on him the whole time.

  “Wait. What’s going on?” he asked. “I don’t—”

  I struck him in the face with the butt of my compact STI. He stumbled back into the wall. I hit him again, slamming his head into the concrete. He raised his hands to protect his face, but I swatted them down and smashed my gun into his temple. Then I rammed my knee into his ribs repeatedly with savage fury. He slid to the ground. I jerked his pistol from its holster and tossed it down the hallway. I grabbed him by the boot and dragged his semiconscious weight back to the security room.

  The agents were still standing there. Herzog was shocked. Torres had drawn his sidearm and was pulling something out of another pocket, probably his radio. “Sound the alarm,” I ordered as I dragged Grant through the door. Herzog glanced inside, saw the carnage, turned a ghastly shade of green, and stumbled back.

  I turned my attention to the security room. Blood was splattered all over the bank
of monitors. There was a single Hunter on the floor, facedown in a giant red puddle. Adrenaline and fury were pounding through my veins. I rolled him over. It was one of the Newbies. The taxi driver. I couldn’t even remember his name. His throat had been cut.

  Flat on his back, Grant groaned.

  I kicked him in the side. “Why? What’d he do to you?”

  “Wasn’t me!” he cried.

  I squatted down. It was time to end it. “You want to worship the Old Ones? Well, tell them hi for me.” I placed my gun against his temple.

  Grant sputtered something. It took me a second to realize he was laughing at me. His teeth were red with blood. “Old Ones? God, you’re a moron . . . Sure, I’m a spy, but not for the Condition.”

  What?

  “He’s working for the Monster Control Bureau,” Agent Anthony Torres said from the doorway. “Myers recruited him after he left MHI.”

  “Are you serious?”

  Grant gasped as he looked over my shoulder. “It’s you!”

  Torres was standing over me, collapsible baton extended above his head. “Yes.” Then he cracked me hard, lights exploded in my skull, snapping my head around. The floor came up and hit me.

  “Anthony! What are you doing?” Herzog screeched. I couldn’t see what happened next, but there was a sudden whump.

  Sitting up, I raised my gun but another quick strike of the baton knocked it from my hand. Torres kicked me in the chest, sending me back to the ground.

  “Stop right there,” he stated as he raised his HK in his other hand. A fat sound suppressor had been screwed onto the muzzle.

  My head hurt. That baton had nailed me good. The spinning room lurched to a stop. “What are you doing?” I grunted.

  “I’m completing my mission,” Torres said calmly. His normally cheerful disposition had been replaced with something cold. He stepped completely into the room and closed the damaged door behind him. Back against the wall, he kept the gun pointed at me. I realized with a start that Herzog was also down, a gaping hole in the side of her head, brains dripping down the wall behind, eyes like glass, open and staring at nothing. “I never did like her,” Torres said. “Too bossy.” Then he lowered his gun and shot her twice more, each round from the suppressed pistol sounding like the slamming of a thick book. It was back on me before I could do anything.

  Grant struggled to sit up, but began coughing. I had really hit him good.

  “Hunters, as you enter the world, your greatest weapon is the trust you have in your team,” Earl said over the intercom. The intercom speaker was next to Torres and he turned it off.

  “I’ve listened to enough blowhards for one night,” Torres said. His demeanor had changed. The friendly act was cast aside, and now I could see the crazy in his eyes. Damn, he’d been a good actor. “You know, you look confused, Owen. Let me try to help you out here. I’m an acolyte in the Exalted Order of the Shadows, that’s who I really work for. Jefferson here is pretending to work for MHI, when he’s really working for Myers. His assignment was to help Franks catch which of your detail was the spy.”

  “Traitors,” I muttered. “Both of you.”

  “I was trying to serve my country. . . .” Grant said, spitting a gob of blood on the floor. “Unlike this piece of shit.”

  Undeterred, Torres’ HK kept floating between Grant and me. If either of us moved, we were dead. “Well, you did find me finally, Agent Jefferson. I’ll give you that.” Torres smiled. “Maybe you’ll get a posthumous promotion for catching me. . . .”

  “Squid lover,” Grant spat.

  “Don’t knock it until you try it.” He turned his attention back to the door, and peeked through the crack down the hallway. The gun was still pointed in our direction. Torres was a pro. “Don’t try anything stupid, Pitt.”

  “Grant, what the hell’s going on?” I hissed.

  “I was trying to help you, moron.” Grant moaned as he sat up. “Myers knew the MCB had been infiltrated. I was supposed to watch out for you and back up Franks. When one of Myers’ people, Patterson, was killed trying to infiltrate the cult, there were only a few agents who knew about her cover.”

  My head was spinning, and not just from Torres’ baton. Myers had shown me pictures of Agent Patterson. She had been the one chopped into pieces—Franks’ friend. Torres was still listening and turned his attention back to us, grinning.

  “Served the bitch right, trying to lie to the sacred Order. There were only a handful of us who knew about Ashley’s assignment. Archer took care of her comms. Herzog”—Torres gestured at the dead woman—“processed her reports. And I was her field backup. Myers could only narrow it down to the three of us. He was suspicious, but couldn’t be certain if he’d been betrayed or if the Order was getting its intel some other way. When the Dread Overlord sent his request for your utter destruction, that toad Myers saw his opportunity. He knew if one of us was a spy, we’d surely reveal ourselves to take a shot at you.”

  It made sense. That’s why Herzog was just a clerk. They had never been here to protect me. They had been here simply to see which one tried to kill me and then Franks or Grant could capture them. I didn’t know if I was angrier at Torres the traitor or Myers for bringing this down on our heads.

  “You weren’t supposed to figure that out. . . .” Grant said.

  “I wasn’t supposed to know about you either. Looks like Myers underestimated the Order again.” Torres went back to watching the hallway. He was waiting for something.

  I had to keep him distracted. I had to go for that gun. “So this whole thing about MHI having a spy was a lie?”

  “Oh, no,” Torres said. “You’ve got bigger problems, an actual doppelganger.” He gestured at the blood-soaked Newbie, almost reverently. “This is its work. In fact . . .” He glanced absently at his watch. “We both have our missions, and our assignment is almost done. Check out the monitors.”

  Beneath the blood splatter were twenty different black and white ten-inch screens. The compound was well covered. The one of the cafeteria was packed with Hunters as Earl wrapped up his speech. The other views were mostly empty, but movement caught my eye on one of the central ones. A group of shapes were moving toward the barracks. Men with guns.

  “Fellow acolytes,” Torres said proudly.

  “Half a dozen ass-wipes aren’t going to stand up to a bunch of pissed-off Hunters,” I said. “Hell, Earl will probably just eat them.”

  Torres was enjoying himself. He turned away from the door. “Our doppelganger will neutralize your little werewolf at the proper time, with MHI-issued silver bullets even. My brothers are here to destroy your ward stone.” The look on my face must have betrayed my surprise. “Oh yes, we know all about that. Harbinger thought secrecy would protect it. Not even our High Priest was privy to that. But Myers knew, and he filed it in his official report on MHI.” Torres shrugged. He was feeling smug. “Just another thing I was able to pass on to the Order.”

  The monitor that covered the front gate showed movement also. A semi pulling a huge cargo trailer rolled to a halt, then another parked beside it, and another pulled up behind. The drivers got out and moved to open the rear doors. More trucks were pulling up behind. You could pack a lot of dead stuff into that many trailers.

  “With your shield gone, a veritable ocean of the righteous dead will flood this place. Once the Hunters are gone, I’ll deliver you personally to my Master.”

  “What about me?” Grant asked.

  Torres scowled. “You? I just wanted to gloat for a minute. Might as well pop you now.” He moved the gun back toward Grant. “All that I’m going to ask is that I’ll be the one to animate your corpse afterward.”

  Grant gave Torres a bloody smile. “Good thing I texted Franks when I found Pitt.”

  Grant had been holding his phone when I had spotted him.

  Torres’ eyes flicked to the door just as it exploded inward. He opened fire. The flash-bang grenade went off a split second later.

  My eyes were sca
lded with light and my ears rang with a deafening screech. Head swimming, I struggled to my feet. I had to reach Torres. I misjudged and crashed into the wall. A strong hand grabbed my neck and shoved me out of the way. I tripped over Herzog’s corpse and went to my knees.

  A moment later I could see again. Bright purple ghosts floated across my corneas, but I could at least tell what was going on. Torres was facedown on the floor. Franks was kneeling on his back, handcuffing him. Archer stood in the doorway with a Sig 229 pointed at Torres’ head.

  Then I could hear. Torres was screaming, thrashing. “The High Priest is coming! His legions are coming! You can’t stop him! It’s the dark new dawn! Do you hear me?”

  Franks jerked Torres to his feet. He towered over his prisoner. “Yeah. I hear you.” Then he slammed his giant fist into the side of Torres’ head with a brutal hook. The cultist collapsed, unconscious. “So shut up.”

  I got unsteadily to my feet. “Where’s the alarm button?”

  Franks pointed at Torres’ limp form. “Get him out of here.” Archer looked confused. “I’ll explain later. Contact Myers. Tell him we got the spy.” Franks glanced down at Grant. “Nice work, Agent Jefferson.” He was smug, mission completed, no idea what was coming our way fast.

  There was a large red button on the control desk. I mashed it repeatedly. Nothing happened. I looked under the desk. The wires had been torn out. I swore.

  Franks’ blunt features were perplexed. “What?”

  Grant had gotten unsteadily to his feet. He pointed at the monitors. “The Condition’s attacking!”

  The acolytes had pulled up a hidden hatch near the barracks and were entering the tunnels. The view of the front gate showed the trucks and the movement of some vast beast tottering down the trailers’ ramps. On the cafeteria camera, Earl finished speaking. He was stepping down. Esmeralda was taking his place. Someone stood in the audience, back toward the camera, a gun extended forward. It was utterly silent. Earl jerked as a hail of bullets tore into him. There was a loud noise down the hallway as something exploded.