32
Jaxson
Savannah and I headed back to where Harlow and the rest of the agents were waiting and brought them with us as quickly as we could.
With the sentry out and the werewolves chanting loudly, we could afford to abandon a little stealth.
Why did we have to bring noisy humans? my wolf snarled, though he was well aware of the situation.
By the time we neared the perimeter of the light, the chanting had ascended to a fever pitch. The words cascaded off the werewolves’ tongues in obscene ways that made my ears ache and thoughts twist. Whatever they were speaking, it was a foul language. I didn’t know its meaning, but I understood its intent: to bring a being of pure evil into our world.
Savannah shivered, and I didn’t blame her.
Those words were the only thing standing between us and calamity. When the chant ended, Dragan would kill his sacrifices, and a doorway would open—one we might never be able to close again.
Harlow turned to her agents and whispered, “Okay, this is it. We’ll fan out into the woods as planned. The trees should conceal our positions and provide some cover from firearms. Masks on, everybody.”
I turned to the cluster of werewolves on our flank. “Fan out on the other side of the road. Be prepared to pursue and incapacitate stragglers.”
They faded noiselessly into the darkness. I secured my gasmask, which made it impossible to breath or see correctly, then helped Savannah put hers on. “This had better fucking work.”
“I hate this thing,”she whispered as she shimmied it in place on her face.
I followed her, Harlow, and the masked Order agents cautiously into the woods. As planned, Sam and two wolves stuck with us to provide pursuit and fangs if we needed it. Unfortunately, with the potion bombs, they wouldn’t be able to directly enter the fight.
I flexed my claws, regretting working with the Order for so many reasons. Gods, every step the agents took was like a tree falling in the forest. Could they be less discreet? At least Savannah had learned to walk quietly, like a reasonable creature.
Savy and I took up the first position with Harlow and another agent I didn’t know. Sam continued on with Max and the others, while Harlow crouched down and waited, her megaphone on her knee.
I didn’t like this plan one bit. It would have been better to have killed all the bikers and let the hells sort them out. But gods alive, if my father could work with that fiend Laurel LaSalle, then I could work with the Order.
My wolf’s voice rose in my mind: If it all goes to hell, we do it the werewolf way—with tooth and claw.
I took a deep, satisfied breath. Here’s hoping.
Sensing Savannah’s anticipation, I turned to my mate. “Ready?”
She nodded solemnly and whispered, “I’m going to fuck Dragan up.”
I grinned. She was so beautiful. The faint light of the fire traced the perfect lines of her cheekbones and glinted off her red hair.
So much fight. A strong mate, still needing to be tamed.
Two brief pulses of static came over Harlow’s radio. Sam and Max were in place. A triplet of blips followed a moment later, indicating that the third team was set.
Looking through the brush, I could just make out Dragan in Grayling’s body among his circle of cultists. I’d had dealings with Grayling many times over the years, but tonight, he looked deranged. His hands were raised, and he was swaying in front of the bonfire, which had taken on an eerie purple-black light. The glow had crept out of the flames and begun forming symbols and radial patterns on the ground.
Not good.
Savy shifted her bulletproof vest, and I caught a brief flash of pain cross her face. Was her wound bothering her again?
She half rose and looked into the darkness behind us, then turned to me with wide eyes and hissed, “Jaxson, it’s time! The spell is almost done!”
I hadn’t heard the chant change, and teams four and five hadn’t checked in. “How do you know?”
Cold and pale, she looked like she’d seen a ghost.
Savy grabbed Harlow’s arm. “We need to do this now. One hundred percent now. Go, go, go.”
Hell, she didn’t even bother whispering.
For one second, Harlow froze, and then she pulsed her radio six times, took a deep breath, and raised the megaphone to her lips. “Victor Dragan, Lucius Grayling, this is the Order. You are surrounded. Everyone raise your hands, kneel on the ground, and cease your sorcery, or you will be incapacitated. This is your one and only warning.”
Grayling paused and turned toward the sound of her voice. His eyes flickered with the purple light of the fire. With a malicious grin, he opened his palms wide. “My brethren, the Dark God has delivered new sacrifices into our midst, just as promised. Make sure their cries of agony are loud enough that he can hear!”
The bikers turned slowly toward us, almost like zombies, and a chill passed through my bones. For the first time, I could see their eyes. They weren’t yellow like wolves’ eyes, or red like those of drug-crazed madmen, but pure white, with no irises.
“Something’s not right. Fuck your protocols, and take these bastards down before shit gets wild,” I snarled.
The bikers’ mouths opened in silent howls, and their hands erupted into claws.
Harlow raised her radio. “These guys want to play. Disperse the potions.”
The agent beside us hurled a cannister in a high arc. It dropped at the edge of the circle and began spewing out a jet of pinkish gas. Four more potions flew from the darkness, and plumes of gas billowed up where they landed.
Harlow raised her radio. “Do not engage unless necessary. We incapacitate the bikers and apprehend Dragan-Grayling.”
With streams of smoke filling the air, two bikers stumbled to their knees. But it wasn’t enough. The rest shot forward, roaring like rabid dogs.
“Knock ’em down,” she shouted into the radio.