Courts and Cabals by G.S. D'Moore (best e reader for academics txt) 📕

“If no one hasn’t realized it yet, they’re packing silverbane,” he growled over the net. The spike of pain from the hit to the chest had already healed, so he began the arduous task of climbing the stairs.

Even for a shifter, it was time consuming to do on one leg. The building had five stories, and he had to move carefully now. His protective wards were all but shot, and one silver bullet to his center of mass and the fat lady was gonna sing for Vernon Dud.

Radio traffic continued to fly back and forth as teams tried to get to the down assault element, or push into other sections of the building. He shut them all up and turned his radio off. Vamps had great hearing, and he didn’t want them to sense him coming. Each floor had a locked door at each landing, but he didn’t try to bust through. There were civilian businesses on most of these floors, and he didn’t want to gun down a single mother of three on accident. Intelligence said most of the vamp’s operations were on the basement level, but there was no telling how far they’d infiltrated the upstairs businesses with blood slaves. The frequent bursts of gunfire from inside the building made it clear nowhere was safe or secure.

It took him about five minutes to get to the roof access. He laid out the map in his mind with where he knew the machine guns were located. He’d move against the one on the left first with a grenade. He’d pivot to the right while the vamps dealt with steel ripping into them, and target the other nest. He hoped they hadn’t built defenses to cover their rear, or he’d only have the thin metal of some AC units as cover. Considering his lack of mobility, he’d be fucked.

“Shit or get off the pot,” he told himself as he forced the roof door open with a screech of protesting metal.

The grenade left his hand on instinct in the direction of the closest nest. He was already dragging his wounded ass around the corner of the entrance when he felt the heat and kinetic energy slam into his back. He probably singed a hair or two, but he was good. He brought his Colt around on the other nest, and thanked the gods above and below that they hadn’t reinforced their six o’clock. Two vamps were still turning toward the explosion, and trying to maneuver the big machine gun. They seemed to move in slow motion. They were fast, but he was faster.

One round caught the vamp holding the weapon in the chest, and he went down. His buddy lasted a second longer before two rounds smacked into him. The liquid UV started to chew its way through their bloodstream. They screamed in agony, but Vernon didn’t care. He walked up and shot them both in the head so they’d shut the fuck up.

He felt more than knew the other vamps were coming. He threw himself to the ground before the crack of rounds fired at him resounded through the air. He felt them pass over him; missing him by inches. A pissed off vamp was holding the machine gun like Rambo and spraying the rooftop. His clothes were ragged, and blood covered them from the grenade’s shrapnel wounds, but they’d already healed. Unfortunately, the vamp didn’t take into consideration the massive gun’s recoil. All of the shots went high.

The asshole wouldn’t heal from the multiple rounds Vernon pumped into the vamp’s chest and head. The big vamp teetered like a tree in a storm before going down like a sack of bricks.

“The roof is clear,” he relayed through clenched teeth. “You should be clear to make entry.”

“Roger that,” replied the alpha team leader who’d never made it in the building. “What’s your location?” He could already hear the medics shouting as they advanced toward the wounded five stories below.

“Send a medic up to the roof when you get a chance,” he sat down against the roof’s edge, next to one of the nests. “I took a silver round to the leg, tourniquet is applied, so no rush.” As he said it, he ripped open his pants and glanced at just how fucked up his leg really looked. With the silverbane in his system, and no regeneration, the big machine gun round had done some real damage. If he was human, he’d have already died from blood loss. “Maybe get someone up here sooner rather than later,” he sighed.

His fight was over. He’d let the rest of the assault elements sweep the building, grab the vamps, and tear down their V lab. Barring all that going down without a hitch, it would be another successful mission for his resume.

“Lots of people are dying,” he thought to himself. He didn’t know if anyone from bravo team would make it yet.

That, plus all the deputies back in Lincoln had made the ultimate sacrifice. He made a mental note to check recent casualty figures to see if law enforcement was losing more people to supernatural incidents than usual. Over the last two missions, it sure felt that way. As he thought it over, the door flung open and a pair of medics rushed toward him.

He finally relaxed, holstered his Colt, and let the good times roll; but that was probably the drugs they pumped into him.

***

I felt like I was finally getting the hang of this. There was a flow to combat. It was a bit like dancing, but your partner was trying to bust open your skull and dump your brains all over the floor. This wasn’t at-the-club dancing where a girl and guy did their best to buttfuck each other with clothes on. This was the tango, waltz, mamba, or any of the other dances they did on Dancing with