Nicaragua, 1990
The Contra war was over, except no
one had told these guys. The crack of bullets and rattle of machine-gun fire
echoed through the mountains of northern Nicaragua. Lieutenant Junior Grade
Dale “Curt” Curtis crouched down behind a scarred oak tree and signaled to his
men to wait. Heavy green and black greasepaint disguised their faces and the
green camouflage uniforms blended in with the surrounding scrub. Intel said
nothing about fighting in this region. Could be a local turf war, but the
sounds of that artillery to his seasoned ears warned this was a heavier
engagement. Dale pulled his bonnie hat low, scanned the terrain and cursed the
godforsaken ass who’d assured them this area was safe to cross. But they were
SEALs and accustomed to shifting gears. He and his team of six operators had
finished a successful op near the border. Now Dale had to figure out how the
hell to get his men out of what was supposed to be uninhabited, safe terrain.
Motioning to his men to stay back,
Dale crept through the jungle, making no noise. Four of his operators were
norms. Then there was himself, a Primary Elemental Mage whose powers could
blast through this jungle like a firebomb. And Etienne “Wolf” Robichaux, a
Cajun from Louisiana, who was also a Draicon werewolf. Like him, Etienne used
his powers sparingly around others. The sickeningly sweet stench of decay
assaulted his senses. Dale belly-crawled up a small rise, to a ravine and
peered over. Revulsion and horror punched him.
Flies buzzed around a dozen naked
bodies lying atop each other amid the dirt, grass and leaves. Women. Men. His
stomach threatened to spill out the MRE he’d eaten. In his five years as a navy
SEAL, he’d seen his share of horrors. But this… The way the little group clung
to each other, as if providing comfort in their last terrified moments, made
him sick with anger. A small whimper caught his attention. Dale raised his
weapon and crawled down. A black puppy, barely alive, hidden by the corpses.
Dale’s throat tightened. The little guy hadn’t wanted to leave his mistress.
Or maybe it wasn’t a dog. He called
for Wolf on the radio. When Etienne arrived, the werewolf studied the dog, his
eyes furious.
“It’s a wolf sir. Not a dog.” Stunned, Dale glanced at the
corpses.
“Your people?”
“Not Draicon. Our
young don’t shift until they reach puberty. I’ve never seen this species
before.” Like Mages, there were different classes of werewolves.
“Who are they?”
“I don’t know.” Etienne wiped a tricle of sweat from his
face, smearing the green and black greasepaint. “These carry a deeper, richer
scent.”
“This place smells of darkness. No wonder the intel screwed
up.”
The sounds of battle ceased. Dale
glanced around and made a decision.
“Take the pup, head west and lead the men out of here. Use
that nose of yours and flush out the smells of gunpowder, avoid the fighting at
all costs.”
“Curt…”
“It’s not human. Whoever did this isn’t human.”
Ethienne’s jaw tightened. “All the more to reason for me to
stay with you. Sir.”
I’m right behind you. I’m not leaving this area for some
naive
civilian to stumble into and get killed.” “If you ward it
with magick, you’ll drain your powers,”
Etienne warned. Dale gave a cold smile. “You have no idea of
the extent of my powers. Now
go.” As soon as his men had passed, Dale lifted his hands,
closed his eyes and began a low chant.
The magick shield would prevent humans from entering the
area, and save them from meeting
the same fate as the wolves. Slightly drained, he opened his
eyes, and turned to leave. A low
growl rumbled behind him.
The
Wolf was as large as a small Shetland pony. Sleek black fur stood on edge. Dale
remained motionless, his gaze never leaving the creature. Not even when the
wolf opened its mouth, showing fangs as sharp as dinner knives…
Her
world had shattered. Nothing mattered anymore. Her parents, her pack,
they were all dead. Simon, her little
brother, whom the demons promised to spare in exchange for her slavery to
them…dead, as well. The demons had lied. She was only eleven, but already
experienced in her powers as wolf. In wolf form, Keira stumbled through the
undergrowth. Rage and anguish blinded her to everything. Soon the demons would
return and force her to do their bidding.
Magick skimmed her fur, pinged off
her muzzle. Light, good magick. She shook her head and growled and loped toward
the source. A tall man lifted his hands to the sky and chanted. He was clad in
Uniform, his face disguised, and the metallic scent of weaponry clung to him.
Rage engulfed her. How dare he violate her people’s final resting ground?
Blinded to everything except the
red haze to hurt as she hurt, she stalked forward and growled. The man fingered
the gray metal weapon and she charged. Knocking him down, she leaped on him and
raked a sharp claw over his arm. But the man made no move to fire the
weapon.Confused, she backed off, watching warily as he stood. Their gazes met
and she felt an odd connection, as if this powerful man of magick understood.
He regarded her quietly, sadness in
his gray eyes.
“I won’t hurt you. I
will not return evil for evil, for whatever was done to your people is making
you react.”
A giggle sounded nearby. Keira
tilted her head, fear curling in her stomach. The demons were returning for
her. Pure evil had infiltrated the region and it would never die. But this man
who’d refused to hurt back, he was good. She sensed it. She lowered her head,
pawed at the ground and hit him with her muzzle, urging him to leave. The man’s
mouth narrowed.
“I won’t leave you here alone.”
Keira
growled and head-butted him again. The man seemed torn, and glanced toward the
west. She knew if the demons found him here, they’d enslave him, as well. He
must not remember her, or he’d return. She sensed it. So she bit him. He yelled
and looked down at his wound, blood trickling with her saliva, saliva that
carried the momory spell the demons infused into her. By the time he looked up,
she was gone, fleeping into the forest toward her captors, vanishing from the
man’s sight and memory. Giving him time to escape to safety. While she charged
forward straight into hell.
