Courts and Cabals Omnibus: Books 1-3, page 26
“Breech, we’ll cover you,” Vernon ordered. The faster they were in the building, the quicker they could end this.
The heavy booms of the bear-shifter’s shotgun rang out, and seconds later, the machine guns opened up. They didn’t have an angle directly at the door, but they knew what the federal team was up to. Their fire raked back and forth across the street, and Vernon barely ducked behind the wall before bullets smacked into the brick corner.
“Things are getting interesting,” he grinned.
“Breaching!” the Bravo team leader informed.
A second later, a giant rip-boom cut through the hectic battlespace. Then people started screaming. “Silver claymore!” a pained and dying voice gurgled through the communications net . . . and then nothing.
“Fuck!” Vernon peeked out from behind cover.
Most of Bravo Team was down, and a big fucking hole sat where the door had been. The Caeli mage looked like he’d taken a hit, and the smoke obscuring the machine gunners’ sights was lifting.
“Move! Get to the door!” Vernon yelled and sprinted from behind cover.
Machine gun rounds chewed up the street around him as he dashed forward at close to fifty miles per hour. He didn’t try to slow down and return fire. That would only get his ass shot. He was sprinting as fast as he could, and he wasn’t slowing down. He felt something heavy hit his shoulder, and the flash-burn of his ward protecting him seared up his neck. He stumbled slightly, but was able to stop himself from face-planting and getting shot to shit. He corrected course and kept on running.
He was twenty feet from the hole when something hard punched into his leg. The ward was already gone, and the fucker hurt. Momentum kept him going as he stumbled through the opening. He didn’t stop there. His leg wasn’t responding well to his brain’s commands, and it buckled when he tried to pump the brakes.
“Shit balls,” he had time to think before he tucked his shoulder and smashed through the far wall. On the other side of that wall was a hallway, and the opposite wall only half stopped him.
Head and chest on one side, and his ass on the other, with his waist caught in the drywall, he’d successfully made entry. “Report,” he winced.
Before he could get a reply, an incredible burning sensation ignited in his leg. He howled in pain as the ancient bane of his species hammered him. Without thinking, he grabbed a tourniquet from his belt. He channeled magic into it, and runes lit up in response. He growled as he tried to move his useless leg to get the tourniquet under his foot and move it up above his wound. The round had penetrated just below the knee, so he worked the life-saving, enchanted tourniquet to the middle of his quad. He stopped to rip a two-by-four out of the wall and place it in his mouth.
“This is gonna suck,” he pulled.
He roared in pain and bit straight through the wood as the magically imbued medical device clamped down on his thigh enough to stop the blood flow. On top of that, it was hot; as the spell repulsed the silverbane to keep it isolated in his leg.
It hurt like the mother of all motherfuckers, but it had to be done. The leg would go gangrene and die in short order with no blood flow to the extremity, but it kept the silverbane localized. If he let it spread and get to his heart, he was dead with a capital D. He still felt like he had the world’s worst case of hemorrhoids in his leg, but the painful burning didn’t move past the tourniquet. His first aid complete, he finally checked his surroundings.
He’d lost one of his Colts when running through the walls, but he gripped the other one tightly and scanned the area. It was full of dust and asbestos from his wrecking-ball entry, but was clear other than that. He struggled to his feet to find a more defensible position than hanging out in a wall.
“Report,” he ordered again.
“Bravo’s down,” someone relayed. “Medics are trying to get to them, but the vamps are keeping everyone pinned with those guns.
“I’ll handle it,” Vernon grunted. The mission was still to get these drug-dealing vamps off the street, but he couldn’t do that if the team died.
All the assault elements had memorized the blueprint of the building when they ran rehearsals. Their carefully choreographed plan hadn’t survived contact with the enemy, but the building was still the building. Vernon limped down the hall, hugging the wall, toward the stairs. The door was locked, but a quick punch from his giant, furry paw knocked it down.
Immediately, gunfire slammed into him. He should have been more careful. His senses should have picked up the rapid breathing on the other side of the door. He should have done a lot of things, but he was hurting, and that cost him his edge.
The kid on the other side of the door, and he was definitely a kid, was holding down the trigger of an M16. It was an older military weapon, phased out in favor of the M4, but it still worked the same. The young vamp obviously thought it was some sort of machine gun and would keep firing. The single trigger pull fired off three rounds. Two hit Vernon in the chest, while the recoil forced the rifle upward. Round three was almost fatal. It whizzed past his ear close enough that the zip overloaded his eardrum for a heartbeat.
Vernon felt a burst of warmth as the ward died, and the punch of kinetic force as he took the second round in the vest. Thankfully, the Kevlar there was designed to take hits. He could smell the silverbane of the bullet, but it pancaked against the armored plate.
The young vamp had enough time to look at his gun in surprise. He looked equally surprised that Vernon was still standing, but didn’t get another chance to do anything about it before the UN agent put a round between his eyes. His chamber was dialed into the liquid UV rounds. While a round anywhere else probably wouldn’t kill the vamp if he got medical attention, a round to the noggin sure as shit did. The steel-jacketed round punched a hole in the kid’s brain, and the liquid ate at it like hydrochloric acid until it overwhelmed the vamp’s healing ability.
The look of surprise was forever frozen on the face of a creature that expected to live for a thousand years. The poor bastard hadn’t even hit twenty as he toppled forward and spilled blood and chunks of brain all over Vernon’s boots.
“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 by 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 that 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 were 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 the Stars. There was rhythm and feeling ingrained in it, and if you knew how to read it, you could anticipate and adapt.
It took me a solid month to realize I was good at fighting, but I learned it the hard way. Xamira kicked my ass up and down that gym. She knocked me out more times than I can count, left me bleeding and broken, and then demanded I get back up and keep fighting. I was convinced that was half the lesson: never give up.
The imp started by throwing simple, standard combinations. Eventually, I could anticipate and dodge. Then she threw more complicated punches, which I had to dodge, block, or counter. This was about the time she taught me to punch, because punching didn’t mean shit if you couldn’t avoid getting hit in return, especially when your opponent was an eight-foot-tall troll with a dick the size of my forearm. Lilith filled us in on that helpful tidbit, which did wonders for my self-esteem.
“As if I’m not inferior enough,” I thought, but Xamira didn’t give me time to pout. Once she knew I could hit, she threw more techniques at me.
Not only did she want me to dodge, she wanted me to attack, counter, feint, and generally get my opponent to do what I wanted and not the other way around. Weeks went into that instruction; four hours a day after class, plus morning workouts where the imp honed my body and mind. I should have been half dead after the first week, but for the first time, I finally felt alive.
During one session, Xamira came at me. She’d probably dialed it up to a four, but still, I was able to go three minutes without taking a hit. I ducked, dived, dipped, and dodged my way around her. I didn’t allow her to dictate the tempo, and I even scored a hit. My fist grazed her cheek . . . and the next thing I knew, I had the familiar scent of smelling salts assaulting my nostrils.
That’s when she started to teach me that fists weren’t the only weapon in my toolbox. She taught me to use my feet, elbows, knees, and even my thick skull; although, she didn’t advise the latter except under dire circumstances. Not only did she teach me to fight with my whole body, but she also taught me to fight dirty. The cabal taught a specialized form of Krav Maga to their people, and the number one rule was that there were no rules. The goal was to win the fight by any means necessary.
That’s how I found myself on the first snow of the year. I was inside punching Xamira in the muff.
“Fuckin’ A,” she wheezed and grimaced. It actually looked like I’d finally managed to inflict pain on my oppressor.
“Shit,” I let my guard down, because I hoped someone would do the same if they nailed me in the balls during practice. She made me pay.
Before I knew what hit me, she had swept my legs out from under me and was fighting for a full mount. We hadn’t spent a lot of time on my ground game. Mostly, because if the troll ever got me on the ground, I was fucked.
“Come on, Cam, get the better position,” she instructed, and I was half a second too late to recognize her imbalance before she got the full mount.
I got my hands up in time so she didn’t pummel my face into hamburger meat. I tried to buck her off, but she resisted. I tried to pull her close, and partially succeeded. I’d wrapped her up, but she threw a couple of blows into my ribs and knocked the wind out of me.
I wasn’t going to last long, which was the whole point. I went through my options and saw an opening. This time, I didn’t hesitate. I went to trap an arm and bend it to the point it would break, but she was faster. She trapped my arm instead. With a grace I didn’t possess, she rolled us both and put me into a textbook triangle choke.
With my throat compressed between my own arm and her thigh, I was rapidly running out of air and blood. “What do you do, Cam?” she asked calmly.
Her grip was like iron, so I didn’t have a shot of breaking it. I set my feet and used the last of my strength to pick up her whole body and smash it down onto the ground. Of course, she was ready. The second I had my feet set, a hand darted out and grabbed my ankle. Next thing I knew, we were back to our original position: she was on top, but this time, she was sitting on my neck and choking the shit out of me.
“Nice try,” she smiled coyly, assured in her own victory.
I growled back, but it came out as more of a gurgle. My vision was gradually fading to black, and I did the only thing I could think of: I opened up and bit down on the inside of her thigh as hard as I could.
I was rewarded with a scream and a loosening of her chokehold. I had enough time to catch a breath before she hit me with something new. I had no idea what the hell it was, but the effects were immediate. I’d surprised her by taking a chunk out of her Mike Tyson-style, but she made me pay.
Her punch was full of . . . something. It wasn’t just flesh and bone hitting me with the kinetic energy of a runaway car. There was magic in it. My head went fuzzy, and it felt like a veil had been lifted off my eyes. I was looking around and truly seeing for the first time. I took in everything with a sense of amazement until I finally zeroed in on one object. That object was everything. The world revolved around it. It had the gravity of a black hole. It pulled me toward it, and I didn’t resist; I welcomed it. Her wet lips were inches from my face, and they were calling my name.
My tongue shot out and fought against the latex of her pants to get at her pussy.
“No . . . shit . . .” Xamira’s legs loosened their grip around my throat, and my hands found her hips. I rolled us over and reached up to get a handful of her breasts. “We shouldn’t,” her voice was heavy with need, and the refusal didn’t last long.
She ripped off her sports bra while I yanked down her pants. Her pussy glistened right in front of me, and I dove right in.
I would be the first to admit that I didn’t have a lot of experience with oral, but there was a sudden need that drove me. I slurped, tickled, and flicked Xamira’s clit with my tongue as my fingers came up to massage inside her.
“Gods . . . fuck . . . yes,” Xamira grabbed my head and held it down. “Right there,” she groaned, and bucked her hips to rub herself against my face.
My head was so full of wonderment and awe, I could tell she tasted like peaches, and that only made me want her more. I ate her fucking pussy out until her back arched, she let out a scream, and her legs shook as she orgasmed. I felt her walls tighten around my fingers, but I didn’t let up. I would never let up.
My existence was to please her.
She collapsed back to the mat, breathing hard, but I wasn’t done. I pulled my hand out from inside her and hooked a thumb around my pants. My cock was swollen to the point I thought it was going to burst, but that didn’t stop me from trailing kisses along her stomach, breasts, and neck as I crawled up Xamira’s strong, sexy body. I stopped when my tip met her lips, and I slowly eased forward.
