Aftermath Read online

  “Excuse me?”

  “You were chosen to protect the points, not the city.”

  “Isn’t that the same thing?” I asked. “Protect the points—protect the city?”

  “Only indirectly,” Kate answered shaking her head. “Your priority is to make sure this city isn’t a foothold for the entities that would devour this plane without a second thought. Occasionally that means ignoring destruction that doesn’t involve nexus points. Destruction caused by third parties.”

  “These entities—you mean the Mourn?”

  “Not just them. There are beings, creatures, that make the Mourn look harmless.”

  “Harmless? I’d rather not meet these ‘beings’ if that’s okay.”

  “I hope you never have to,” Kate said, her voice serious. “These entities would kill everyone—everything, while they siphoned all life energy.”

  “Right now, that sounds a little above my level of power—by several orders of magnitude.”

  “It is. Right now. It won’t always be this way. One day you will be strong enough to face and defeat them.”

  “And if I can’t?”

  “I’ll say some moving words at your burial. If there’s enough left to bury.”

  “Your compassion is off-the-charts—really, thank you.”

  “I’m not here to be compassionate,” Kate answered, grabbing the mug from the counter. “I’m here to make sure you don’t die unequipped. Never said you couldn’t die, ever.”

  “That’s comforting.”

  “I don’t do comforting. I do pain,” Kate answered, drinking the last of her coffee. “It’s one of the best ways to learn—let’s go.”

  THREE

  The bottom level of my duplex was an open space converted into a gym.

  After destroying a few racks and mangling several weight plates, I’d found that conventional equipment at the local gym wasn’t as durable as I thought.

  Plus, there was that one incident that got me banned—permanently. Apparently, lifting tremendous amounts of weight scares people, well, that and almost turning into a bear on the gym floor.

  Ever since then, training in the privacy of my home was easier and safer. Kate couldn’t simulate the torture she called my training in a regular gym. The building I lived in was an old industrial property—a throwback to a different era—an old carriage house I managed to secure, gut, and renovate into a duplex.

  Three stories of loft space with living quarters on the top floor and storage for my vehicle, Widow, on the ground level. In between these, sat what I called the Danger Room.

  The walls and ceiling of the second floor were made up of six-inch thick reinforced steel. The floor was the same thickness, with a two-inch thick layer of rune-covered Australian Buloke Ironwood over it. The windows had been removed in the renovation, and if needed, each level in the building could be locked down separately, with the second being the strongest.

  DAMNED HQ was a larger version of my home, located several blocks away on 2 South William Street, near NP-1. We had appropriated the building that housed Delmonico’s and reinforced it, turning it into a fortress. The restaurant still operated on the ground floor with the understanding that, on occasion, the business might need to close early due to emergencies.

  Considering DAMNED owned the building, it was never an issue, and we were treated to the famous Delmonico steak, Yoté’s favorite, whenever we wanted—definitely a win-win.

  I saw the runes pulse slowly on the floor as we came downstairs. The doors to each level only opened to my biometric handprint. Once the door closed, a particular level was sealed until I opened it.

  I knew of only one person that could circumvent my security—and he was busy running a deli downtown. Not even Kate could get past the defenses of my den. The one time she tried, we nearly had a supernatural disaster. That was the day I discovered she wasn’t human.

  I still didn’t know what she was—she was tight-lipped about it and I didn’t pry. All I knew for certain, was that she was strong and wielded magic on a stratospheric level.

  We stood in the middle of the cool, wooden floor in the center of the gym. Around us, sat several racks with assorted weights, some conventional and some not. One corner held an old 454 truck engine block for a ’91 Chevy SS, attached to a pulley I used for warm ups. Next to it, sat a pair of two-hundred pound dumbbells.

  Kate shrugged off her jacket as she stood off to the side of the floor, near the wall. Her positioning meant we were doing swarm training today. Wonderful.

  “I don’t understand why we need to do this,” I said, stepping into the center. “You have the same mark as I do. Why aren’t you a Protector?”

  Kate looked down at her mark. Where mine gave off a diffuse golden light, hers pulsed a deep red.

  “We each have our roles to play,” she said, cracking her neck. “Yours is to protect, mine is to make sure you can. Your team will depend on you. In battle you must be first, in defeat you must be the last. Besides, we discussed this—”

  “I know. You aren’t a null.”

  “If the Mourn get a hold of even a tenth of my power—I’m picking up what’s left of you and your team with a sponge. After they destroy everything.”

  “I get them all to myself. Lucky me.”

  “As a null, if you’re facing the Mourn, yes.”

  I nodded. “Hammertime?”

  She returned my nod.

  “How you managed to get your weapon from Ukko still amazes me, but it works. Ready?”

  “No. Am I ever?”

  “Not really, but the Mourn won’t wait until you are. They will tear you to shreds and feed on your still warm corpse before destroying the nexus points.”

  “You really should consider being a demotivational speaker.”

  “I have a way with words…I know. Let’s start off easy.”

  Kate gestured, and several Mournhounds appeared around me. I counted five of the creatures circling.

  “Have I mentioned how I think your training methods suck?”

  “Repeatedly. Prepare.”

  I extended an arm and materialized Kirvesvasara, my hammer axe. The orange runes across its surface pulsed with energy in response to the Mournhounds in the area. I still hadn’t mastered the transformation from hammer to axe, but I discovered that a hammer, swung hard enough, could do plenty of damage.

  “These are simulations, right?”

  “Mostly, yes.”

  “Because they look authentic—just saying.”

  “Then maybe you should protect your ass, Protector. Just saying.”

  The first Mournhound snarled as I spoke, homing in on my location, and stalked my way.

  FOUR

  The Mourn weren’t just one type of creature.

  They were mostly made up of Mournhounds—the cannon fodder. Mournhounds were blind, misshapen things that crawled on all fours. They were mostly top heavy: elongated heads and mouths full of several rows of razor-sharp teeth. If H.R. Giger ever had nightmares, they would look like the Mourn.

  Mournhounds were skeletal, with a dense, chitinous exoskeleton. It was like looking at smaller versions of the Alien creature—except that these were real and wanted to chew on you.

  They had one more disturbing feature. They howled. Not a soulful wolf-howl you’d hear in the mountains. No, Mournhounds used a strangled howl to echolocate their prey. Their elongated heads served as a perfect receiving surface—a sort of radar dish to pick up the sound vibrations. Add to that an incredible ability to detect runic energy and you had an impressive killing machine. Five of which were stalking my way.

  What made me ideal for fighting the Mourn, was that in addition to being a were-bear, I was a magical null. Runic energy in my proximity became muted and, in some cases disappeared altogether. This gave me an advantage against Mournhounds. They could hear me, but couldn’t pick up on an energy signature. For them, I was a cut-out, an empty space. That is…unless I made noise.

  I swung Kirve
s into the first hound, launching it across the floor and into the wall, where it shattered with a crash. One of the pieces of its exoskeleton flew across the room and sliced my thigh.

  “Shit,” I said under my breath and saw Kate shake her head as I gave away my location. The other four Mournhounds turned their heads as one at the sound of my voice. Once they were locked on, it was nearly impossible to shake them.

  I slid across the floor as two of the Mournhounds pounced where I stood a second earlier. I threw Kirves into them as another hound leaped at my face. I ducked under that one and sent it flying with a back fist. The two that caught my hammer, burst into dust. My hammer kept going, slammed into the wall, denting it, and then fell to the floor. The last Mournhound waited until I was distracted and sank its teeth in my leg.

  “Fuck!” I yelled as the hound chomped down on my thigh. “Dammit!”

  “That looks painful,” Kate said from the wall. “He must really like you.”

  The one I had sent flying earlier, bounded off the wall and came running at me. I extended my arm—dematerializing my hammer and re-forming it in my hand. I dislodged the one locked onto my leg with a downward swing, disintegrating it. I kept the swing going and intercepted the last Mournhound across the head, midair, destroying it.

  “Hell,” I said, looking down at my torn jeans. “How did I miss that one?”

  “You have to focus on the bigger picture.”

  “You said they were simulations,” I pointed at my bloody leg. “This is not simulated blood.”

  “I said they were mostly simulations,” Kate answered. “Doesn’t mean they won’t try to kill you.”

  “Wonderful,” I said. “These were dragonscale-lined planar jeans—not exactly off the rack.”

  “They sound hard to find. Pricey?”

  “Hard to find?” I asked. “They’re custom-made It’s one of the few things I can wear and still shift in—this and shifter armor, which chafes like hell.”

  “Good thing you were wearing those, then. Imagine what they would’ve done to your leg without it.”

  “I thought I caught them all,” I said, glaring at her. “Did you create one when I wasn’t looking?”

  “You were sloppy, little bear,” Kate said. “You plan on protecting your team by being the first victim in the next attack?”

  “Don’t call me that,” I said, letting the anger and frustration cloud my better judgement. “You know I hate that name.”

  “So what? After watching this performance, I’m wondering what your epitaph should read: Here lies Ursula. She tried valiantly, but failed everyone and died. Rest in peace, little bear—you won’t be missed.”

  A low growl escaped my lips as I threw my hammer at her. Kate stepped to the side, evading my hammer, and gestured again forming five more Mournhounds.

  “You bitch,” I said under my breath.

  Kate laughed.

  “Let me correct that last part. You won’t be missed—but you certainly miss often. Do you think they’re going to stand still for you?”

  She gestured again and another figure appeared. A Seeker.

  Seekers were the eyes of the Mournhounds. They were man-sized and controlled the hounds. Fast and deadly, they could communicate and direct the Mournhound attacks through teleportation. The Mournhounds were dangerous. With a Seeker, they were organized and fatal.

  I outstretched my arm and re-formed my hammer as the Mournhounds raced at me. I whirled the hammer and slammed it into the floor as they closed. The runic explosion took out three of the hounds before they blinked away. The Seeker ported the remaining two to his side. He unsheathed his blade as he closed in on me.

  I took a deep breath and let them come. Seekers never attacked directly. He would feint a frontal assault, letting the Mournhounds attack from the rear while he tried to skewer me with his weapon from my blindside. I let them get closer before I shifted to the side.

  I felt the Mournhounds port behind me as I swung my hammer to the side, deflecting the blade. It was a guess—a good one. I smiled as I evaded another slash from the Seeker and slammed it with my hammer, driving it to the ground.

  I brought Kirves down again, rolling to the side and smashing the Seeker’s chest, dusting him, while dodging the remaining Mournhounds’ teeth. Another swipe dispatched the hounds. I got to my feet slowly, nodding to myself in satisfaction when a fist pounded my side from behind with the force of a small truck, slamming me into the nearby wall.

  “Brunts,” I managed with a gasp as I caught my breath and rolled off the wall. “Really?”

  “Figured you were ready for something a little more serious,” Kate said, pointing behind me. “Heads up.”

  I leaped to the side and barely avoided another enormous fist trying to squash me. Brunts were a level above Seekers. They were mindless ogre-sized creatures designed for one thing—annihilation. The emphasis was on mindless. Brunts destroyed everything in their path, even other Mourn. I hefted my hammer as the Brunt roared.

  Not only were they huge, but they were fast. Faster than anything that size had a right to move. The only thing that worked in my favor was their single-mindedness. Once a Brunt had a target, it didn’t stop until stopped. I had just the tool for the job. I simply had to avoid getting pounded in the process.

  Easier said than done as I swung my hammer.

  FIVE

  The Brunt roared again and rushed at me.

  Brunts had one major vulnerability. A strong, blunt force impact into their chest could cause commotio cordis—a concussion to the heart. The upside was that I possessed both—a blunt object and a tremendous amount of force. The downside was that it required I get close, within arm’s reach of the creature wanting to rip my head off. I couldn’t just stand back and throw my hammer—there was a good chance it would only bounce off.

  Then, all I’d have was a pissed-off Brunt trying to tear me apart—very much like the one I was facing. This one looked like it wanted to give me a hug of death. Even as a simulation, these things were dangerous. Kate believed in authenticity. If I wasn’t careful, I would end up broken, or worse. I still felt the bite from the Mournhound.

  My above-average healing helped, but having my ribs crushed and major organs skewered would probably be fatal. I was hard to kill, not invincible. The Brunt closed the distance with a haymaker, its extended arm looking to remove my head. I swung my hammer up and connected with its massive arm, deflecting its fist from crushing my skull.

  It roared again as I brought my hammer down in my best golf swing, connecting with one of its knees. I had sent its knee sideways, which meant no walking for a while. This time it howled in pain while also sending a back fist crashing into my chest, knocking the air out of me.

  It bent over, grabbed its mangled leg, and wrenched the joint back into place with a sickening pop and grinding of bone.

  “That is not fair,” I said, catching my breath and pointing my hammer in its direction as I stood shakily. “You’re supposed to stay broken.”

  It growled—a low guttural sound full of menace as it opened its maw—and bared its razor-sharp teeth. What was it with these monsters and the teeth? It crouched down and I knew what was coming. Brunts were known for their aerial attacks. Anytime they crouched low, their next move was a leap and crash, usually on top of their target. It was a superfly attack worthy of Jimmy Snuka.

  I braced myself and let my inner bear slowly take over. Unlike wolves or other Were-creatures, I had full control of my transformation and could focus aspects of it. The only time that was in question was when I lost my temper, which had been known to happen once or twice. I partially shifted and let my center of gravity transition to my lower half. The Brunt jumped into the air, aiming for me with its body.

  If I let it complete its arc, it would flatten me, so I met it as it started its descent. I jumped into the air, hammer first, and pounded its chest with Kirves. The orange runes exploded with light as I made contact, followed by a surprised Brunt a few secon
ds later.

  “That only worked because it was one Brunt,” Kate said from the wall. “You know there’s never only one. More importantly, if you try to turn when you face the real Mourn—”

  “I know,” I said. “It will be the last time I turn.”

  “Or do anything else,” Kate said. “You’re null in this state. Not as a bear. Remember that…or die. Your choice.”

  “There’s got to be a better way to deal with the Mourn,” I said, wiping the sweat from my face as I sank to the floor. “This seems impossible.”

  “You prefer a more peaceful method? Maybe a deep conversation?”

  “Something less on the lethal side would be good.”

  “You can’t truly call yourself peaceful unless you are capable of great violence,” Kate said seriously. “Are you?”

  “Yes, if the situation demands it, then yes.”

  “Good,” she said. “If you’re not capable of violence, you’re not peaceful, you’re harmless—there is a difference.”

  “Understood,” I answered, nodding. “I just wondered if the Dark Council had another method?”

  “Against the Mourn? Are you insane?”

  “This training is making me question what little sanity I have left.”

  “The Dark Council is made up of Mages, Vampires, and Weres,” Kate explained. “Two of those groups rely heavily on runic energy to exist, and the Mages manipulate and are permeated by it. Against the Mourn, they wouldn’t stand a chance.”

  “And we would?”

  “Protectors pre-date the Dark Council,” Kate said. “Nulls are the best, and in most cases, the only ones who survive long enough to slow down the Mourn.”

  “Slow down—not stop?”

  “Full disclosure,” Kate said. “There are plenty of theories about the Mourn. All of them have a kernel of truth: runic vampires, entities of anti-magic, and more, are thought to be the result of too much dark magic use.”

  “But no one knows for sure?”

  “Any more than why you were born null or were chosen to be a Protector,” Kate said, shaking her head. “If you really want answers I can try to find them for you or you can pay Him a visit. I hear they serve a mean pastrami-on-rye.”