Chapter 3 #3
Yeah, his young, dumb, demon-hating, thirty-year-old self wouldn’t recognize his sixty-three-year-old self, even though he didn’t look a day older than he had back then.
If anything, gaining immortality had shaved off a few years.
He looked twenty-seven, tops. And thanks to the amulet around his neck—a literal, tiny piece of Heaven itself that had been charmed by angels—he’d live forever…
as long as he didn’t do something stupid, like get his head chopped off by a fallen angel.
Reflexively, he reached up and brushed his fingers over the thick scars across his throat, a reminder that he had almost lost his head once. His first encounter with a demon back in his military days had left him with a damaged voice and a new career path.
Kynan glanced to his right at Tayla, his half-demon sister-in-law and DART’s Special Investigative Unit Director, before addressing the trio sitting across the table from him in the building’s main briefing room.
Scotty, Blade, and Mace lounged in their chairs, looking deceptively chill, but Ky estimated that between the three of them, they were in possession of at least a dozen knives, nine feet of garrote wire, a couple of shock sticks, and too many supernatural weapons to count.
They were the best of the best, freakishly in sync, and his most capable and trusted team across scores of DART locations around the world.
If they couldn’t handle a situation, no one could. At least, no one on his payroll.
Tay slid mission packets toward the three special forces operators, who snatched them up like kids scrambling for cupcakes.
He’d seen them do that before too. A couple of weeks ago, in fact. They’d scarfed down two dozen cupcakes between them.
“I can’t wait to see where we’re going.” Mace’s sun-streaked dark hair hung in his face as he dug into the envelope. “Somewhere hot with beaches, I hope. Warm sand, killer surf, chicks in bikinis…”
“Not…exactly,” Ky said, amused. Call him sadistic, but he got a kick out of sending Mace to places that forced him to work hard at having fun. The guy needed to be taken down a peg or two now and then.
Tayla wore her I’m-about-to-fuck-up-your-day smile. She also got a kick out of pushing Mace out of his comfort zone and forcing him to be more serious. “You,” she said, all classic Vanna White with a flourish, “have won an all-expenses-paid trip to wild, buggy Alaska.”
Deflated, Blade groaned and tossed his packet back onto the table. “I hate the cold.”
“It’s summer there,” Kynan said, and Blade perked up. “Expect sudden rainstorms and mosquitoes the size of pterodactyls.”
Blade slumped back down in his seat. “Even better.”
“Stop whining.” Scotty perused the packet. “I like Alaska. You got mountains, bears, and kick-ass breweries.”
“You’re not on vacation,” Tayla reminded them. “This is a mission.”
Mace looked up from flipping through the photos included in the briefing materials. “What kind of mission?”
The eager glint in his coffee-colored eyes matched Scotty’s. Those two liked the dangerous and weird assignments and were always ready to go tearing into a situation. Blade was the cautious one, so, instead of a glint, his dark gaze held wary shadows.
Tayla turned on the room’s main 3D holoscreen, and it hung over the table between them.
“It’ll be a joint operation with two special-ops agents from our Seattle office.
You already know Skoll, so you know he’s a werewolf with extensive training in tracking and survival.
And, thanks to his dad’s job as a paramedic at Underworld General, he’s also trained in advanced first aid.
The other agent is Jon. Former Green Beret and a bear shifter with specialized knowledge of multiple Indigenous languages and mythologies. ”
The trio exchanged glances.
“Okay,” Blade said slowly. “So, what, exactly, are we doing with them?”
“You’ll meet at a hotel in Fairbanks,” Kynan said, “and then you’ll set out for a cabin in the Yukon-Charley National Preserve, where you’re going to be investigating reports of a wendigo.”
“A wendigo?” Mace jacked upright in his seat. He loved shiny new things. “What the fuck are those? Demons?”
“Good question.” Tayla tucked a long strand of auburn hair behind her ear.
She was also around Kynan’s age, without a single gray hair or wrinkle, thanks to the bond she shared with her Seminus demon mate, Eidolon.
“Jon’ll be able to tell you more about them, but basically, they’re cannibalistic beasts.
The Aegis and DART have always assumed they were mythical, but several people have gone missing near the preserve, and a credible source gave a description that resembles the wendigo myth. ”
Mace grinned. “Awesome. We could be the first to confirm them as a new known species. We’ll be famous. Plastered all over Underworld News Today.”
“So, are they demons?” Scotty asked, ignoring Mace and his delusions of fame and fortune. “Or no?”
Kynan shrugged. “We don’t know. That’s what your team is going to determine. Read your packets for more information, and the Seattle boys will fill you in on the rest.”
Mace nodded, his body language morphing from devil-may-care to serious-as-a-heart-attack as he shifted into mission mode.
The guy was a wildcard in social settings, but as reliable as the tides on an assignment.
Ask him to do it, and he did it. His methods of achieving the goal, however, tended to be unconventional and, as often as not, against the rules. “When do we leave?”
“You have six hours to prepare,” Tayla said. “Your packets contain addresses, names, and essential information you’ll need to get you started. Pack light. You’ll be hiking a lot.”
Kynan reached into a drawer and withdrew a box. The team watched, spellbound, as he plopped it down on the desk and lifted the lid.
“This,” he said, “is a prototype of the weapon we contracted with StryTech.”
Scotty’s eyes shot wide. “Is that…a Reaper?”
“Yep.” Kynan lifted the sleek object from the box, its polished horn grip conforming to his palm as if it were made for him.
He couldn’t wait to get into the field and try it out for himself.
He’d been stuck behind a desk for far too long, and he was itching for a fight.
“Stryke delivered it to me yesterday, and you guys are going to be the first to test it out.”
Scotty practically bounced in her seat. Her sharp eyes missed nothing, though, and she zeroed in on the weapon’s grip. “Is that Ramreel horn?”
Kynan nodded. “Don’t worry, no innocent Ramreels died for this. A male from your father’s herd donated it.”
“I wasn’t worried about its origins,” she said. “Most Ramreels are evil bastards. I’m just wondering why Ramreel horn is part of the construction.”
Kynan ran his thumb over the smooth, oddly warm demonic material. “Stryke said it can sense the intentions of whoever is holding it. Increases accuracy.”
“Awesome.” Mace’s dark eyes gleamed with excitement, while Blade’s went wary and cold. Any mention of his estranged brother did that to him. “How does it work?”
Kynan pressed a button near the barrel of the pistol-sized weapon. Two wings popped out, and a cable snapped into the retention spring.
“Cool,” Scotty said. “It looks like a miniature crossbow.”
“It works a lot like one too,” Kynan said. “But there are some key differences.” He handed the weapon to Tayla and held up a bolt. “First, the projectile is smaller and thicker.”
“Why?” Scotty scowled at the bolt as if personally offended. “That’s clumsy. The circumference will slow it down.”
Leave it to Scotty to instantly zero in on the weapon’s weakness. She was just like her father.
“The shaft has to be larger than a typical bolt because it contains a decipula,” Ky explained. “StryTech couldn’t shrink the soul traps down any smaller.”
Blade glanced up at Ky. “But won’t that make it less lethal?”
“The point of this weapon is to capture souls, not kill,” Kynan said, although Stryke assured him that his company’s continuing research would find a way to make the Reaper as lethal as possible.
“As long as the bolt is embedded in the demon when it dies from any injury, the decipula will capture its spirit.”
With the destruction of Sheoul-gra, the souls of deceased demons had nowhere to go and had been wreaking havoc in both the human and demon realms. StryTech had developed traps to catch and store the souls until Hades could rebuild Sheoul-gra, but deployment of the traps required the ability to see the souls.
With the Reaper, anyone could catch a demon spirit.
“What about humans?” Mace asked.
“The Reaper will definitely kill humans,” Kynan said, “but it won’t capture their souls. This weapon is designed to work against demons only.”
“Okay,” Blade said. “But how will we know if the bolt has trapped a soul?”
He plucked another bolt from the container.
“This one contains a soul. You can tell by the glowing symbols etched into the shaft.” He carefully replaced the projectile inside its velvet-lined case.
“They’re equipped with a guidance system, so no matter where you aim the Reaper, the bolts will seek out the most injured enemy demon. ”
Tayla turned the weapon around and showed them the pencil eraser-sized white button on the right side. “If needed, push this, and you can deactivate the guidance system.”
“Why would you ever do that?” Scotty asked.
“To protect the good guys.” Tayla placed the weapon on the table and gestured to a flat panel on the handle grip.
“Before a battle, everyone in your party needs to touch the panel to identify themselves as allies. That’ll prevent the projectile from seeking out any injured associates.
But let’s say there are civilians around, or more help arrives on scene, and you don’t have a chance to get their energy signature imprints.
You’ll need to disable the guidance system, so the bolt won’t seek them out as the most injured person in the fight. ”
“Ah.” Scotty toyed with her ponytail. “Makes sense.”
“Anyone else have any questions?” Tayla looked between the teammates. “No? Then get ready for the mission.” She placed the weapon back in its case and slid it across the desk. “I know you don’t need it, but good luck.”
No, Kynan thought as the team filed out, all swagger and cocksure attitudes, they didn’t need luck. They had more talent and skill between them than the entirety of most nations’ armies. And they were attuned to each other, so tight that not a single molecule of oxygen could get between them.
And that was what concerned Kynan from time to time. For all the trio had gone through, their friendship had never been tested. It had never even been strained.
What if something were to happen to test their bond? He knew all too well how quickly shit could fall apart when cracks formed in a foundation.
“Hey.”
He looked over at Tay as his office door closed behind Blade. “Yeah. What’s up?”
She cocked her head, the pink streak in her hair dipping behind her shoulder. “You look worried.”
“Worried?” He scoffed. “Nah. They’ve faced worse. I was just thinking about the old days.”
“Which ones?”
The worst ones. “Our Aegis days.”
She drew in a long, heavy breath. “Oh.”
“Yeah.” He threw his head back against his chair, his time as a demon hunter in charge of an entire cell of slayers flashing through his mind.
Tayla had been one of his best fighters…
until she hooked up with the demon doctor who ran the hospital she’d been tasked to destroy. “We thought we knew it all.”
She snorted. “We didn’t know jack shit. But hey, we’re both in a good place now. We have amazing mates, the best kids, and awesome jobs.”
“We rose from the ashes,” he murmured.
They’d been fortunate. So many who burned never came back. His dead first wife being one of them.
“Do you ever think about what’s next?” Tayla asked.
He cocked an eyebrow. “For whom?”
“Us.” She shrugged, a slow roll of the shoulder that bore her mate’s dermoire. “The world. I mean. Shit’s been quiet for a while. We haven’t faced an apocalypse in like, thirty years. It’s kinda freaking me out.”
“You forgot about the hell rift beneath Stryke’s oil rig in the North Sea a couple months ago.”
“Oh, yeah.” She grabbed the leftover documents on the desk. “Since Stryke handled most of it and the damage was minimal, I never remember to include it.”
She seemed disappointed.
“Don’t worry,” he said cheerily, “I’m sure there’s something catastrophic right around the corner.
And I think you’re forgetting that Azagoth destroyed Sheoul-gra and released millions—maybe billions—of evil souls.
The worst ones have yet to be captured. I predict lots of potential apocalypses in the future. ”
“Thank you.” Grinning, she started for the doorway. “You always see the bright side in any situation.”
He just shook his head. Demons. Kill them or marry them, you’d never understand them.