"Open Season On Monsters"
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dochermes"Open Season On Monsters"
8/28-8/29/1995
I.
Three men stood arguing in a tight cluster in the parking lot of a Mexican-style restaurant. Arriving in his rented car, Jeremy Bane slowed and came to a stop some distance away to watch. He had never met any of them but he knew them by reputation. In the hot afternoon sun, he saw them stand in a circle facing each other, all talking at the same time.
Getting out of the dark blue Hyundai Sonata, the Dire Wolf studied the three men. Their body language indicated that an actual fight was not likely to break out now, it was just posturing and establishing status. All the men were roughly the same six feet height, all in good physical condition without being bulky. The most dramatic individual visually was the man in biker clothes... heavy boots, worn jeans, a leather jacket with the sleeves torn off and a demonic face painted across its back. He had long yellow hair pulled back in a ponytail, a sullen acne-scarred face and a mustache that drooped down on both sides of his mouth.
Standing up close to this man's yelling face without a flinch was an Asian man in a neat dark brown business suit with a tan shirt and brown tie. This man stood with hands down at his side, calmly facing the yelling man's anger without seeming to be affected. He was wearing sunglasses that he now tipped up to rest atop his head.
Completing the circle was an older man in black slacks and a green polo shirt with a light sleeveless Hawaiian shirt unbuttoned over it. He had receding dark hair and a neatly trimmed beard as if to compensate. This man kept interrupting the other two with a dismissing gesture of both hands.
As he watched them, Bane judged their condition, their balance and co-ordination, their probable fighting skills. This was automatic, part of his decades of Kumundu training. He decided by the way the biker's jeans sagged on one side and by his posture that he was carrying a small flat .32 automatic in his belt where the leather jacket concealed it. The man with the beard was carrying a minor weapon in his right trouser pocket, probably a folding knife with a three inch blade. The Asian man appeared to be unarmed but he showed the best balance and maybe had some combat training.
Bane himself was wearing his usual trademark outfit of black slacks, turtleneck and sport jacket. Holstered behind his right hip was his long-barreled Smith & Wesson .38 revolver and sheathed on his forearms beneath the jacket were the matched silver daggers. Beneath dark feral brows, two pale grey eyes watched everything suspiciously. There was no one sitting in any of the cars in the parking lot, no faces at a window of the restaurant CARMELITA'S. The closest any hostiles could be concealed would be in the sparse trees on the other side of the highway and his most wary scan saw no sign of anyone there.
Tentatively satisfied for the moment, Bane strode over and the three men spotted his approach. They all recognized him. "Oh my God!" "This is all I need!" "Who invited HIM to the party?"
"Nice to be welcomed," Bane said in his even tones. He stopped just beyond arm's length, fists at his hips as he saw them adjust to his arrival. "Let's see now. You're Jack 'Hound' Kenney, the New Jersey bounty hunter. I've seen you on TV. You have a big fan base following you."
"You got that right, mister." The blond man with the ponytail grinned at the praise.
"And you, Richard Park. Second-generation Korean-American who used to work for a certain Justice Department division. You left them to be an insurance investigator." Bane turned to the third man. "And Jay Ryan Lynch, author of true crime books and associate producer for the UNRESOLVED show on cable TV. Funny to find the three of you all together in a small town in Northern California."
The bounty hunter pointed a scarred finger at the newcomer. "What about you? The famous Dire Wolf! I didn't think you was real, to be honest. You're some sort of free-lance vigilante, right? You chase maniacs."
"That's fair enough," Bane said.
"Jeremy Bane himself," 'Hound' Kenney went on. "They say you captured Samhain. Golgora. Ethan Petrov, Seneca. You've got a reputation that is a bit larger than life, buddy."
The Dire Wolf allowed the faintest of smiles on his narrow face for an instant. "Let me guess. You guys are here after the same quarry I'm hunting. Right?"
"That's what we're... discussing," Richard Park admitted. He had a flat Midwestern accent. "I figure we are just going to be in each other's way."
"Look, I'm here on a job," 'Hound' said with his voice rising again. "Wendeego's girlfriend skipped bail. She was charged with aiding and abetting him. The company I work for put up that money and they're liable if she's not brought back to face trial. I mean to drag them back, no matter what!"
Bane nodded, folding his arms as he became more comfortable with these men. "Bounty hunters have a legitimate role in the justice system. Lynch, I assume you are gathering material for either a book or your TV show?"
"Nothing wrong with that, baby," Lynch answered lightly. "Wendeego is a celebrity in his own little way. The adoring public just aches to know more about him, what makes him tick, how a serial killer came to be..."
The Dire Wolf cut him off by turning to Park. "And you, Mr Park? What's your interest in apprehending Wendeego?"
"It's mostly personal," the Asian investigator admitted. "His most recent victim was someone I knew. I used to work with Stuart Murtagh at Continental Insurance. I knew his family. He did not deserve to be skinned and eaten."
"Fair enough." Bane took one step back to take in all three men at once. "I'm hunting Wendeego because it's what I do. It's my nature. He's more dangerous than anyone suspects. I have reason to believe Wendeego has a level of physical strength way beyond normal."
"He's tough as a cheap steak! Everybody knows that." 'Hound' Kenney snorted loudly. "There's security film from the courthouse of Wendeego snapping his handcuffs apart and throwing the guard down the stairs with one hand. So he's been working out. So what? He can't laugh at a bullet between the eyes."
"We'll see." Bane unfolded his arms and held up his open hands. "Here's the deal. I can see the three of you are not going to step back and let anyone else take over. Neither am I. And I can see you are not willing to work together and catch Wendeego more quickly. That would be best, if only to keep him from murdering anyone else."
"Bunch of hunters after the same deer," Park said.
'Hound' made a scoffing noise. "Hell yes. Always open season on cannibal monsters, far as I'm concerned. Better than lettin' him get away, I say."
The three men watched Bane in a sullen silence. Finally, Park said, "Looks like no one wants to budge. I just hope I don't trip over you amateurs being in the way." He turned and walked away across the parking lot.
"Well. So much for diplomacy," Lynch laughed. The author shrugged and smiled at Bane with a blinding flash of perfect teeth in a carefully tanned face. "But!.. come to think of it, there's also some interest in you, Mr Bane. You never give interviews or even make statements, you're a bit of an urban legend, know what I mean? How would you feel about me writing your book and you polish it a bit to make sure it's not too far off? 'DIRE WOLF- MY STORY by Jeremy Bane as told to Jay Ryan Lynch.' That's how the credit would read. Royalties would be HUGE!"
"Forget it," Bane said.
"Look at how much business my book about Senator Toricelli did-"
"Forget it," repeated Bane in a slightly menacing tone that made the words an order.
"Well, stay in touch," Lynch finished blithely as he headed toward his bright red sportscar. "Have your people call my people."
"What about me?" 'Hound' Kenney said as the two of them were left. "You gonna try and scare me off that way?"
"No," Bane said. "All I can do is remind you that I have evidence Wendeego is more than a normal Human. Tough as a cheap steak, as you put it, is not even close. I think he gets stronger with each victim."
"What, like he's supernatural?" Kenney spat loudly on the asphalt and turned to leave. "I don't believe in that crap, Bane. Money, guns, cars... those are real. I don't believe in vampires and ghouls and monsters." He headed toward a black SUV that had seen a lot of wear and tear.
"I wish I could say the same," the Dire Wolf whispered as he watched the notorious bounty hunter drive away.
II.
Left alone in the parking lot, Bane gazed thoughtfully at the mountains in the distance. He had not told the others, but he was not working entirely on his own initiative. The Mandate had contacted him about going after Wendeego, even though their usual terms held where they gave him classified information but then denied any connection with him. The police agencies and the FBI were searching for Wendeego in Texas, where he had escaped custody, where his usual area of activity was, but the Mandate had tips that Wendeego's girlfriend Liz something had taken him here to High Falls in California, not far from the Oregon border. Her family had lived here when she was in school.
Bane had made some calls on his drive here from the airport. He was glad now he had decided to take a slightly different approach than usual. Pulling out his Link, he used the Trom device to call New York City. "Cin?"
"Hey baby hey baby hey," she answered. "How's it going, Jeremy?"
"Three other hunters complicating things," he said as he filled her in on what had just happened. Cindy listened and thought for a second.
"Wish I could have gone with you," she sighed. "That court appearance tomorrow is a waste of time if you ask me but Donna insists. She says we have come too close to you having your PI license suspended as it is. I'll testify, answer a few questions about the murder and then have to sit there all day in case they think of something else to ask. Damnation. Anyway..."
"Ah, you've got some leads?" he asked as he slowed for an extreme curve. These mountain roads were not what he was used to.
"Yep. I've been making calls and hitting the computer. I have a list of residences that are mostly uninhabited this time of year. The owners are on the East Coast or traveling. So, are you ready?"
"Go ahead," Bane said. He did not have a photographic memory by nature, but decades of practice and training enabled him to remember long lists after hearing them once. He held the Link as her voice rattled off address and descriptions.
"Wanna hear it again?" she asked.
"No, I think I've got it. You have any other ideas, Cin?"
"Not off the top of my head," her voice sounded as clear and natural in his ear as if she were there in person. "I'm looking into Wendeego's girlfriend, Liz Bean. Her real name was Elizabeth Winstead, she tried a career as a sort of punk singer. Liz Bean and the Hussies, awful band. What she sees in Wendeego beats me, but then she's as weird as he is."
"Let me know what you turn up," Bane said. "If the case is still ongoing when you're done in court, I'd like you to join me. Fly the CORBY out here, there's miles of woods to hide it in."
Her familiar chuckle sounded happy. "Deal. Good luck, hon. See you soon."
As Bane turned off the Link and clipped it to his belt, the smile dropped off his face. Having those others also looking for Wendeego might make the chase tricky. He was working on the assumption that his three rivals would start with the obvious approach and check out every motel and trailer park within a hundred miles. If he had been working this alone, he would have started that way as well. But they would likely be crossing paths with each other and he decided he would try the squatter approach first.
An hour later, he walked away from the closest house on the list. It had rained the night before, a light sprinkle that was just enough to soften the earth. He had spotted no footprints anywhere near the three-story A-frame that sat at the end of a mile-long driveway. No tire tracks. Creeping carefully up the house, he found the alarm system and saw that it had not been disturbed. There were two security cameras, one in a tree and one high up under an eave but he was not worried about them. The Eldar talisman he wore in his suit was meant mostly to protect him against gralic attacks, but it had the convenient side effect of blurring his image on video. Those cameras would show only an odd shimmering area where he had been. Bane smiled slightly at the thought of how many guards had seen that shimmer and decided something was wrong with the equipment.
Hurrying back to where he had left the rented car at the beginning of the driveway, Bane planned his next move. On the flight from New York City, he had studied maps of the area with his usual single-minded concentration and he had the local roads clear in his mind. The Dire Wolf got behind the wheel, made a U-turn and headed out onto the back road. He wasn't wild about the Hyundai but it had seemed the best choice from the dealer at the airport and it would do.
Getting back on the main highway, Bane swung north and sped along just above the limit. He thought about the three men who were also hunting Wendeego. If he had his way, Lynch would have dropped the chase. Wendeego was extremely dangerous and there was no reason to think the TV producer could survive if he got within eyeshot of the monster. Richard Park might have a chance, Bane thought. He was a former Mandate agent, which meant he had serious training with firearms, with unarmed combat and with strategy. Bane didn't think Park could bring Wendeego in, but at least he would know enough to stay out of reach and to retreat if called for.
It was the bounty hunter that Bane could not make a judgement on. Jack Kenney, known as 'Hound,' was about fifty now. He was a bit of a celebrity because he had brought in some high-profile fugitives and because 60 MINUTES had done a controversial profile on him. 'Hound' was not trigger-happy or bloodthirsty, he preferred catching his quarry off-guard and subduing them suddenly, but he was not above pulling a gun on a fugitive.
Kenney usually worked with his son Rick, who was just twenty-five, and with a remarkably tough woman named Tonia. She had been a guard at a women's maximum security prison in Maryland for eight years. 'Hound' frequently told reporters that Tonia could beat up both him and his son at the same time. There had been no sign of the two of them when Bane had met Kenney, but he could assume they were in the area.
Dusk was approaching as Bane found the side road he was looking for. A chain was fastened to two trees, stretching across the road with a yellow sign PRIVATE PROPERTY - NO TRESPASSING. The Dire Wolf found a spot a little further on where he could pull off the road. Traffic was light here. No cars had been in sight for five minutes when Bane stepped away from the Hyundai and leaped into the woods by the side of the road, vanishing like a magic act.
Light on his feet, making no noise that could be heard even if someone had been right next to him, Bane moved quickly between the trees parallel to the side road. Once, he spotted a wire stretched an inch above the ground and passed over it. As he started going uphill, he felt a sudden tension in the air that was all too familiar to him. A predatory gleam lit in the grey eyes. He felt he was on the right trail.
Moving more slowly, taking advantage of cover, Bane soon saw a gorgeous ranch-style house made of redwood. It had a satellite dish on the roof and an attached garage. The door to that garage was not quite pulled all the way to the ground, something that the owner would have done before leaving for an extended period.
The Dire Wolf crept closer, pausing for longer periods as he studied the scene. He could smell a faint but pungent animal odor in the area. Not from bear, not anything he could name. It alarmed him. Without realizing it, he reached up to loosen the silver daggers in their sheaths up his sleeves and then he heard the faintest rustle behind him. Bane swung around as a huge furry bulk heaved up and lunged right at him with a roar.
III.
Only that he happened to have his left hand closed on the hilt of his silver dagger saved Bane's life in that instant. He had started to draw it even as he first sensed something rearing up near him. Wendeego's long emaciated fingers reached for his intended prey like hooks. Bane slashed backhand with his dagger and its edge sliced deeply across one paw. Those weapons were made of ensalir, silver that had been blessed by the immortal Eldarin long ago, and they were very potent against dark forces. The monster shrieked a high piercing note and whipped his other hand around to crack Bane right across the left temple with an impact that threw him off his feet to crash against an oak tree.
The Dire Wolf hit that tree hard enough to bounce off, landing on his hands and knees. He was not completely unconscious, he still had a sense of where he was, but he was so dazed that he could not react to anything. His vision was blurred and his head was ringing as if it were inside an actual bell. Not quite knowing why, Bane dug around in the dirt with his fingers to try and find the silver dagger he had dropped.
Looming up over him, Wendeego snarled. He seemed to be a very tall man in the final stages of starvation, naked, with every rib showing clearly and his face sunken under deep-circled eyes. Long thick white hair hung from his head halfway down his back, and strangely, that same long hair grew down his arms and across his bony chest. Wendeego crouched over his dazed prey and showed jagged fangs as he grinned.
Bane's thoughts were clearing. Forgetting for the moment the dagger he had lost, he drew the other one and held it ready. He tried to rise to his feet but only fell to one side. A normal Human would likely have been killed by the blows he had taken, and even his healing factor needed a few seconds to bring him back. All he knew what that he was facing a terrible enemy and needed to get ready.
The monster howled once, a long drawn-out cry, and stepped warily closer toward Bane. Wendeego seemed a bit apprehensive about that silver dagger, but it was not going to be deterred. Saliva dripped from its fangs as it literally licked its lips...
Then a newcomer crashed hard into Wendeego from the side, knocking the creature down and away from Bane. The stranger was a man in a snug uniform of black leather that covered him completely, except for the silver helmet on his head. On his left arm was a round shield, and a straight three-foot sword was in a scabbard at his left hip. The stranger had come running full tilt to smash into Wendeego, losing his own balance in the collision. In an instant, he had leaped up to his feet again and swung the circular shield into place to deflect a slash from Wendeego's claws.
Seeing the once-familiar figure in black and silver, with the helmet crafted to resemble a human skull, Bane managed to get to his feet. "Larry..?"
The newcomer slid his sword from its scabbard with a hiss, and its straight blade gleamed with the same sheen as Bane's silver daggers. It was made of fine steel incorporating chips of ensalir. As the sword Chalcemar was flourished, Wendeego spun on one heel and loped on all fours away into the woods faster than any man could run. Left behind, two men regarded each other with surprise on both their parts.
The silver helmet looked like a human skull, but the eyes of the man within could not be seen somehow. The eyeholes of the helmet remained black. Not a bit of skin could be seen. He sheathed his sword, adjusted the belt on which the scabbard hung, and stared at Bane with that unreadable expression.
The Dire Wolf felt back to normal now, as his enhanced healing shook off the damage he had taken. "But... no. Larry Taper is dead. That was five years ago in Necropolis. I was there. The Silver Skull outfit vanished as he died, and no one knew where it went." He raised an accusing finger. "You must be the one the Silver Skull itself chose as a worthy successor. Who are you? Where have you been all these years?"
No answer came from the man in black and silver. Shifting the round shield on its straps across his left forearm, the Skull simply turned and began walking away. As Bane yelled in protest, the man turned from the waist and raised an open gloved hand in a respectful salute before continuing.
After a second, the Dire Wolf decided to let him go. The new Silver Skull after all had very likely saved his life just now. If he wanted to keep his face and name secret, well, that would have to be respected. He felt sure they would cross paths again. For the next ten minutes, Bane searched until he found the silver dagger that had been spun aside when he had been hit by Wendeego. Those daggers had been given to him by Kenneth Dred himself when they had first met, when Bane had first learned of the Midnight War, and he would give up everything else he owned rather than part with them.
It was getting dark. Somewhere out there was the Wendeego. Bane examined the dagger and satisfied himself it had not been damaged before he sheathed it again. Now he had to get back to the hunt. He still had to check that house for unwelcome tenants, which might include a flesh-eating monster and his punk rock girlfriend. But now, in addition to the three men already searching for Wendeego, it seemed the new Silver Skull was on the trail as well.
Bane froze as a strange thought struck him. The Skull helmet and armor and weapons appeared on a worthy successor when the previous holder of the role died, but there was no set time for this to happen. It could be years later. Why was the new Skull here of all places? What if one of those three men WAS the Silver Skull?
IV.
Heading back to where Wendeego had struck him, the Dire Wolf found fresh blood from the monster's slashed arm and he began to follow the splashes. The blood quickly became a few scattered drops and then stopped. Evidently the creature had a healing factor better than Bane's own, something useful to know. Even without the bleeding, though, a creature that size and weight left a trail easy to follow. Bane raced along, realized that the trail was heading to the top of the rise where the house located and picked up speed. Wendeego would not take him by surprise a second time.
The garage door was fully open and the vehicle inside was gone. Muddy tire tracks indicated an SUV. Bane realized that by the time he got down the driveway to where he had left his own car, Wendeego and his girlfriend would be too far gone for hopes of catching up to them. Pulling on thin latex gloves from an inner pocket, he entered the house. The back door had been left ajar. He stepped inside and prowled quickly from one room to the next.
The house had been trashed. Not just careless or slovenly use, but deliberate vandalism. Scraps of food and dirty dishes were everywhere. Three empty pizza boxes and five fried chicken containers were left where they had dropped after use. Empty beer bottles added to the debris. From what Bane remembered of Wendigo lore, the monsters were always ravenous and this seemed to confirm it.
The bathroom was a disaster. He'd hate to be a housekeeper assigned to clean that mess. One bedroom was the same, and the bed was visibly broken with a sag in the middle. Bane moved on. Another bedroom seemed untouched except that the covers had been thrown aside and the sheets missing. That caught his attention. He found a kitchen knife tossed in one corner and a couple of scraps of white linen.
It meant they had a prisoner, he thought. They had cut up sheets to tie someone up. He rushed through the rest of the rooms, but the two squatters seemed to have confined themselves to the ground floor. Bane hurried back outside. He went through the garage for any clues and saw something that made his heart sink. A child's sneaker, red and white, lying near where the SUV had been parked. If Bane had been determined to capture these monsters before, he was coldly furious now.
Hurtling down the driveway at a run few athletes could approach, the Dire Wolf found his rented car where he had left it. He dove behind the wheel and sped down the backroad, still heading north to where the next unoccupied house on his list was. As he drove, Bane tugged the Link from his belt, patched into the phone system and called the police. He had never worked with the local police before but they knew about him from when he had captured Seneca in the area a few years earlier. He informed them that he had information that the fugitives probably had a hostage, a child no more than ten years old, and they were driving an SUV. The officer on the line badgered him for more information and his whereabouts, but Bane only said he was on the case and getting reports himself. There was no way for Human technology to get a fix on a call from a Trom device like the Link, but Bane hung up shortly in any case.
As he rushed along the road, he found houses were spaced widely apart with miles of forest between them. At each house he passed, he pulled over and peered at the area for any signs of anything out of the ordinary. In one, an older couple were working in the yard. In another, a teenage boy was practicing basketball with a hoop nailed to a tree. Bane could not imagine Wendeego being restrained enough to force his prisoners to act as if everything was normal, so he kept driving.
After a while, he unclipped his Link and set it to act as a police scanner. As he had expected, the force was in an uproar with every available officer called in for the search. Every report was quickly followed up on. Then he heard that a man named Jack Kenney was being detained after an altercation with two uniformed officers. It was mentioned that Kenny obstructed the cops in their duties and had become unruly, so he was taken into custody. This had happened in the town of Prescott. Bane gave one of his rare laughs at the mental image of 'Hound' arguing with the police. Well, it looked as if the famous bounty hunter was out of the chase for Wendeego.. and it also meant that he was not the new Silver Skull.
It was dark when he arrived at the second unoccupied house. This was a red brick building set well back from the road, with a large pond nearby in which two ducks swam. There was a picnic area by the pond, a long wooden table and two benches, as well as barbecue grill. Parked alongside the house was a black SUV with tinted windows and, as Bane spotted that, a predatory smile flickered for an instant on his taut face. He had just started up the short driveway when he saw the silver Audi behind the SUV and the man getting out of it.
It was Richard Park, the former Mandate agent who was hunting Wendeego for personal vengeance.
Bane jammed on the brakes and dove out of his car, hitting the ground running. He did not want to shout a warning in case the monster was in the house and had not seen Park. Maybe he could reach the man in time to protect him. But a huge bony hulk with a white mane swirling behind it pounced directly on Park with a snarl. The two forms tumbled to the ground, then Wendeego rose with blood all over his face and chest. He saw the oncoming man in black and howled just before five 38 slugs punched home in his torso. The impact flung him down.
Almost on top of the monster, Bane holstered the empty revolver and whipped one of the silver daggers free with his left hand. He dropped into a crouch, swinging the blade in a figure eight pattern as he got within reach. Wendeego rose unharmed from the gunshots and grinned hideously. His fangs were yellow and sharp. The Dire Wolf was almost within arm's reach and that silver dagger seemed to alarm the monster. Wendeego raised an arm defensively, growling deep in his chest, and took a step back.
"Don't like silver, eh?" Bane said. "You'll be tasting it in a second." Even within reach of the monster, with his attention focused on the attack, Bane's peripheral awareness was still active. A movement to his left just caught his eye and instinctively he dropped to the ground, catching his weight on fingertips of his free hand and his toes. The sharp crack of a high-powered rifle sounded close by, drowning out the hiss the bullet might have made as it passed overhead.
There. Standing by the black SUV, a tall thin woman with dark red hair, bundled in a denim shirt and jeans too big for her. She was aiming a Marlin 30-30 right at him. In that fraction of a second, knowing his revolver was empty and she was too far away to count on accuracy with a knife throw, Bane flung himself over Richard Park's bloody corpse and came up with the bulk of Wendeego between him and the woman.
Bane was wearing the silk-thin Trom armor beneath his clothing as usual, but his head was unprotected. At this range, whether she was skilled with that rifle or not, Liz Bean had a good chance of hitting him. Wendeego did not seem aware of any of this. He had swung around as Bane landed near him, and the deepset red eyes flared. This close, the monster looked less human than ever. He was like a man who had died of starvation, covered with lank white hair.
Roaring, the creature lunged and Bane met him with a slash of the silver dagger back and forth across the bony chest. More blood spurted out in a bright crimson geyser. Wendeego shrieked and back awkwardly away, falling and struggling to get up again. The Dire Wolf wiped hot blood off his face with the back of his free hand, determined not to get any of it in his mouth. It was cannibalism that had activated the Wendeego curse in the first place.
As Wendeego fell to the asphalt of the parking area by the house, Liz Bean raised her rifle again. Bane got a good look at the long face with its slightly beaky nose and full lips. The red hair was a brilliant unnatural crimson even in the gloom. She smiled with cruel satisfaction as she took aim, and a black-gloved fist blasted squarely against the side of her jaw. Liz staggered wildly and fell to her hands and knees, almost unconscious from that unexpected blow.
The Silver Skull kicked the Marlin to one side, glared down at the dazed woman and drew his sword.
"Wait!" Bane shouted. "They have a prisoner. We need her to tell us what they've done with him!"
"I wasn't going to kill her," came a hollow voice from inside the gleaming helmet. "You just finish off that beast."
"Fine," the Dire Wolf said. He went over to where Wendeego had gotten up on one knee but was unable to fully rise. The creature was bleeding heavily from the deep gashes across its chest. Those silver daggers were potent against creatures of night, and few could survive their edge. Coming around warily behind Wendeego, Bane gripped the creature's long mane with one hand and tugged the head back. His other hand drew a silver blade deeply across the monster's windpipe. The Dire Wolf stepped back and let the dying creature drop face down to the ground.
"I'm not sure he could have talked anyway," he said to the Skull. "He had changed too far."
"That just means YOU need to start talking," the man in black said to the stunned woman at his feet. The helmet distorted his voice enough that Bane could not say he recognized it. "Come on, where's the child you took?"
She muttered incoherently, trying to rise. That punch had nearly knocked her out and she seemed unsure of the situation. The Silver Skull slid his sword back into its scabbard and waited for her to recover.
"Too bad we weren't able to save Park here," Bane said as he cleaned his dagger carefully with a silicone cloth from his jacket pocket. Near him, the gruesome corpse of the ex-Mandate agent still sprawled on its back, abdomen ripped open by the monster's talons. "If I had gotten here a minute earlier..."
"You couldn't have known he was coming here, Bane. Neither could I."
"You know me, huh? Just who are you, anyway?" the Dire Wolf demanded. He sheathed his dagger up his sleeve and glanced down at the blood all over his shirt and jacket. It was already getting sticky. "How did you get here anyway? How do you keep showing up?"
"Who I really am... does not matter," the Skull replied. "We will meet again many times, Dire Wolf. Our mission is far from ended." With that, he pointed a gloved hand at the nearby black SUV. "But you are neglecting the victim."
Grudgingly, Bane went over and looked in through the window. In the rear compartment, a small boy was stretched out, tied tightly with strips of white cloth. He stirred and rolled sluggishly over.
"He's alive. Looks like he might have been drugged. I'll call for an ambulance," Bane said. He checked vital signs. The kid was breathing deeply and evenly, the pulse was steady if a bit slow. Turning, he glanced around and saw no sign of the Skull. "What, again? Larry Taper never pulled tricks like that."
Liz Bean had managed to get into a seated position, leaning back against the outer wall of the house. She didn't seem like she would be going anywhere under her own power soon. Taking some packaged alcohol swabs he always carried, the Dire Wolf cleaned up his face and hands as best he could. Using his Link, he called the police and gave the address, explaining the situation and requesting an ambulance. Then he phoned the closest FBI office and contacted Department 21 Black. They promised a squad there within half an hour.
Suddenly tired as the adrenalin died down, Bane tugged his jacket and turtleneck off, turning them inside out. Making a tight bundle of the bloody clothing, he put it inside a clean trash liner in the trunk of the rented car and got a fresh shirt from the knapsack he always carried. He cleaned up as best he could.
Waiting for the ambulance and the police, the Dire Wolf opened the front door of the Hyundai and plopped down wearily. He didn't like dealing with Department 21 Black but with a situation like this, it was necessary. They would claim precedence over the scene and take over completely. The police certainly would be furious, they usually were when a federal agency pushed them aside, but their orders from higher up would be for silence. The payback would come later, when 21 Black would come to Bane with a "suggestion" where his abilities would be useful.
Head lowered, Bane deeply wished he could skip the next few days. Reading and signing statements, answering the same questions a thousand times to make sure his answers were always the same, being sworn never to make public what had happened here. And there lay poor Richard Park, ripped open while trying to avenge a friend. Over there was Liz Bean, still dazed, who would probably never go to trial but just be quietly placed under observation in a government-run mental health facility and never be found ready for release. What the little boy knew, what he would remember of these traumatizing events, was impossible to predict. Bane hoped the kid would be as okay as could be after such an experience but that was something beyond his ability to help.
He heard sirens coming nearer. Bane stood up, took a deep breath, and scowled at the grotesque corpse of Wendeego. He wished he could get away with just vanishing neatly the way the Skull did.
1/11/2016
8/28-8/29/1995
I.
Three men stood arguing in a tight cluster in the parking lot of a Mexican-style restaurant. Arriving in his rented car, Jeremy Bane slowed and came to a stop some distance away to watch. He had never met any of them but he knew them by reputation. In the hot afternoon sun, he saw them stand in a circle facing each other, all talking at the same time.
Getting out of the dark blue Hyundai Sonata, the Dire Wolf studied the three men. Their body language indicated that an actual fight was not likely to break out now, it was just posturing and establishing status. All the men were roughly the same six feet height, all in good physical condition without being bulky. The most dramatic individual visually was the man in biker clothes... heavy boots, worn jeans, a leather jacket with the sleeves torn off and a demonic face painted across its back. He had long yellow hair pulled back in a ponytail, a sullen acne-scarred face and a mustache that drooped down on both sides of his mouth.
Standing up close to this man's yelling face without a flinch was an Asian man in a neat dark brown business suit with a tan shirt and brown tie. This man stood with hands down at his side, calmly facing the yelling man's anger without seeming to be affected. He was wearing sunglasses that he now tipped up to rest atop his head.
Completing the circle was an older man in black slacks and a green polo shirt with a light sleeveless Hawaiian shirt unbuttoned over it. He had receding dark hair and a neatly trimmed beard as if to compensate. This man kept interrupting the other two with a dismissing gesture of both hands.
As he watched them, Bane judged their condition, their balance and co-ordination, their probable fighting skills. This was automatic, part of his decades of Kumundu training. He decided by the way the biker's jeans sagged on one side and by his posture that he was carrying a small flat .32 automatic in his belt where the leather jacket concealed it. The man with the beard was carrying a minor weapon in his right trouser pocket, probably a folding knife with a three inch blade. The Asian man appeared to be unarmed but he showed the best balance and maybe had some combat training.
Bane himself was wearing his usual trademark outfit of black slacks, turtleneck and sport jacket. Holstered behind his right hip was his long-barreled Smith & Wesson .38 revolver and sheathed on his forearms beneath the jacket were the matched silver daggers. Beneath dark feral brows, two pale grey eyes watched everything suspiciously. There was no one sitting in any of the cars in the parking lot, no faces at a window of the restaurant CARMELITA'S. The closest any hostiles could be concealed would be in the sparse trees on the other side of the highway and his most wary scan saw no sign of anyone there.
Tentatively satisfied for the moment, Bane strode over and the three men spotted his approach. They all recognized him. "Oh my God!" "This is all I need!" "Who invited HIM to the party?"
"Nice to be welcomed," Bane said in his even tones. He stopped just beyond arm's length, fists at his hips as he saw them adjust to his arrival. "Let's see now. You're Jack 'Hound' Kenney, the New Jersey bounty hunter. I've seen you on TV. You have a big fan base following you."
"You got that right, mister." The blond man with the ponytail grinned at the praise.
"And you, Richard Park. Second-generation Korean-American who used to work for a certain Justice Department division. You left them to be an insurance investigator." Bane turned to the third man. "And Jay Ryan Lynch, author of true crime books and associate producer for the UNRESOLVED show on cable TV. Funny to find the three of you all together in a small town in Northern California."
The bounty hunter pointed a scarred finger at the newcomer. "What about you? The famous Dire Wolf! I didn't think you was real, to be honest. You're some sort of free-lance vigilante, right? You chase maniacs."
"That's fair enough," Bane said.
"Jeremy Bane himself," 'Hound' Kenney went on. "They say you captured Samhain. Golgora. Ethan Petrov, Seneca. You've got a reputation that is a bit larger than life, buddy."
The Dire Wolf allowed the faintest of smiles on his narrow face for an instant. "Let me guess. You guys are here after the same quarry I'm hunting. Right?"
"That's what we're... discussing," Richard Park admitted. He had a flat Midwestern accent. "I figure we are just going to be in each other's way."
"Look, I'm here on a job," 'Hound' said with his voice rising again. "Wendeego's girlfriend skipped bail. She was charged with aiding and abetting him. The company I work for put up that money and they're liable if she's not brought back to face trial. I mean to drag them back, no matter what!"
Bane nodded, folding his arms as he became more comfortable with these men. "Bounty hunters have a legitimate role in the justice system. Lynch, I assume you are gathering material for either a book or your TV show?"
"Nothing wrong with that, baby," Lynch answered lightly. "Wendeego is a celebrity in his own little way. The adoring public just aches to know more about him, what makes him tick, how a serial killer came to be..."
The Dire Wolf cut him off by turning to Park. "And you, Mr Park? What's your interest in apprehending Wendeego?"
"It's mostly personal," the Asian investigator admitted. "His most recent victim was someone I knew. I used to work with Stuart Murtagh at Continental Insurance. I knew his family. He did not deserve to be skinned and eaten."
"Fair enough." Bane took one step back to take in all three men at once. "I'm hunting Wendeego because it's what I do. It's my nature. He's more dangerous than anyone suspects. I have reason to believe Wendeego has a level of physical strength way beyond normal."
"He's tough as a cheap steak! Everybody knows that." 'Hound' Kenney snorted loudly. "There's security film from the courthouse of Wendeego snapping his handcuffs apart and throwing the guard down the stairs with one hand. So he's been working out. So what? He can't laugh at a bullet between the eyes."
"We'll see." Bane unfolded his arms and held up his open hands. "Here's the deal. I can see the three of you are not going to step back and let anyone else take over. Neither am I. And I can see you are not willing to work together and catch Wendeego more quickly. That would be best, if only to keep him from murdering anyone else."
"Bunch of hunters after the same deer," Park said.
'Hound' made a scoffing noise. "Hell yes. Always open season on cannibal monsters, far as I'm concerned. Better than lettin' him get away, I say."
The three men watched Bane in a sullen silence. Finally, Park said, "Looks like no one wants to budge. I just hope I don't trip over you amateurs being in the way." He turned and walked away across the parking lot.
"Well. So much for diplomacy," Lynch laughed. The author shrugged and smiled at Bane with a blinding flash of perfect teeth in a carefully tanned face. "But!.. come to think of it, there's also some interest in you, Mr Bane. You never give interviews or even make statements, you're a bit of an urban legend, know what I mean? How would you feel about me writing your book and you polish it a bit to make sure it's not too far off? 'DIRE WOLF- MY STORY by Jeremy Bane as told to Jay Ryan Lynch.' That's how the credit would read. Royalties would be HUGE!"
"Forget it," Bane said.
"Look at how much business my book about Senator Toricelli did-"
"Forget it," repeated Bane in a slightly menacing tone that made the words an order.
"Well, stay in touch," Lynch finished blithely as he headed toward his bright red sportscar. "Have your people call my people."
"What about me?" 'Hound' Kenney said as the two of them were left. "You gonna try and scare me off that way?"
"No," Bane said. "All I can do is remind you that I have evidence Wendeego is more than a normal Human. Tough as a cheap steak, as you put it, is not even close. I think he gets stronger with each victim."
"What, like he's supernatural?" Kenney spat loudly on the asphalt and turned to leave. "I don't believe in that crap, Bane. Money, guns, cars... those are real. I don't believe in vampires and ghouls and monsters." He headed toward a black SUV that had seen a lot of wear and tear.
"I wish I could say the same," the Dire Wolf whispered as he watched the notorious bounty hunter drive away.
II.
Left alone in the parking lot, Bane gazed thoughtfully at the mountains in the distance. He had not told the others, but he was not working entirely on his own initiative. The Mandate had contacted him about going after Wendeego, even though their usual terms held where they gave him classified information but then denied any connection with him. The police agencies and the FBI were searching for Wendeego in Texas, where he had escaped custody, where his usual area of activity was, but the Mandate had tips that Wendeego's girlfriend Liz something had taken him here to High Falls in California, not far from the Oregon border. Her family had lived here when she was in school.
Bane had made some calls on his drive here from the airport. He was glad now he had decided to take a slightly different approach than usual. Pulling out his Link, he used the Trom device to call New York City. "Cin?"
"Hey baby hey baby hey," she answered. "How's it going, Jeremy?"
"Three other hunters complicating things," he said as he filled her in on what had just happened. Cindy listened and thought for a second.
"Wish I could have gone with you," she sighed. "That court appearance tomorrow is a waste of time if you ask me but Donna insists. She says we have come too close to you having your PI license suspended as it is. I'll testify, answer a few questions about the murder and then have to sit there all day in case they think of something else to ask. Damnation. Anyway..."
"Ah, you've got some leads?" he asked as he slowed for an extreme curve. These mountain roads were not what he was used to.
"Yep. I've been making calls and hitting the computer. I have a list of residences that are mostly uninhabited this time of year. The owners are on the East Coast or traveling. So, are you ready?"
"Go ahead," Bane said. He did not have a photographic memory by nature, but decades of practice and training enabled him to remember long lists after hearing them once. He held the Link as her voice rattled off address and descriptions.
"Wanna hear it again?" she asked.
"No, I think I've got it. You have any other ideas, Cin?"
"Not off the top of my head," her voice sounded as clear and natural in his ear as if she were there in person. "I'm looking into Wendeego's girlfriend, Liz Bean. Her real name was Elizabeth Winstead, she tried a career as a sort of punk singer. Liz Bean and the Hussies, awful band. What she sees in Wendeego beats me, but then she's as weird as he is."
"Let me know what you turn up," Bane said. "If the case is still ongoing when you're done in court, I'd like you to join me. Fly the CORBY out here, there's miles of woods to hide it in."
Her familiar chuckle sounded happy. "Deal. Good luck, hon. See you soon."
As Bane turned off the Link and clipped it to his belt, the smile dropped off his face. Having those others also looking for Wendeego might make the chase tricky. He was working on the assumption that his three rivals would start with the obvious approach and check out every motel and trailer park within a hundred miles. If he had been working this alone, he would have started that way as well. But they would likely be crossing paths with each other and he decided he would try the squatter approach first.
An hour later, he walked away from the closest house on the list. It had rained the night before, a light sprinkle that was just enough to soften the earth. He had spotted no footprints anywhere near the three-story A-frame that sat at the end of a mile-long driveway. No tire tracks. Creeping carefully up the house, he found the alarm system and saw that it had not been disturbed. There were two security cameras, one in a tree and one high up under an eave but he was not worried about them. The Eldar talisman he wore in his suit was meant mostly to protect him against gralic attacks, but it had the convenient side effect of blurring his image on video. Those cameras would show only an odd shimmering area where he had been. Bane smiled slightly at the thought of how many guards had seen that shimmer and decided something was wrong with the equipment.
Hurrying back to where he had left the rented car at the beginning of the driveway, Bane planned his next move. On the flight from New York City, he had studied maps of the area with his usual single-minded concentration and he had the local roads clear in his mind. The Dire Wolf got behind the wheel, made a U-turn and headed out onto the back road. He wasn't wild about the Hyundai but it had seemed the best choice from the dealer at the airport and it would do.
Getting back on the main highway, Bane swung north and sped along just above the limit. He thought about the three men who were also hunting Wendeego. If he had his way, Lynch would have dropped the chase. Wendeego was extremely dangerous and there was no reason to think the TV producer could survive if he got within eyeshot of the monster. Richard Park might have a chance, Bane thought. He was a former Mandate agent, which meant he had serious training with firearms, with unarmed combat and with strategy. Bane didn't think Park could bring Wendeego in, but at least he would know enough to stay out of reach and to retreat if called for.
It was the bounty hunter that Bane could not make a judgement on. Jack Kenney, known as 'Hound,' was about fifty now. He was a bit of a celebrity because he had brought in some high-profile fugitives and because 60 MINUTES had done a controversial profile on him. 'Hound' was not trigger-happy or bloodthirsty, he preferred catching his quarry off-guard and subduing them suddenly, but he was not above pulling a gun on a fugitive.
Kenney usually worked with his son Rick, who was just twenty-five, and with a remarkably tough woman named Tonia. She had been a guard at a women's maximum security prison in Maryland for eight years. 'Hound' frequently told reporters that Tonia could beat up both him and his son at the same time. There had been no sign of the two of them when Bane had met Kenney, but he could assume they were in the area.
Dusk was approaching as Bane found the side road he was looking for. A chain was fastened to two trees, stretching across the road with a yellow sign PRIVATE PROPERTY - NO TRESPASSING. The Dire Wolf found a spot a little further on where he could pull off the road. Traffic was light here. No cars had been in sight for five minutes when Bane stepped away from the Hyundai and leaped into the woods by the side of the road, vanishing like a magic act.
Light on his feet, making no noise that could be heard even if someone had been right next to him, Bane moved quickly between the trees parallel to the side road. Once, he spotted a wire stretched an inch above the ground and passed over it. As he started going uphill, he felt a sudden tension in the air that was all too familiar to him. A predatory gleam lit in the grey eyes. He felt he was on the right trail.
Moving more slowly, taking advantage of cover, Bane soon saw a gorgeous ranch-style house made of redwood. It had a satellite dish on the roof and an attached garage. The door to that garage was not quite pulled all the way to the ground, something that the owner would have done before leaving for an extended period.
The Dire Wolf crept closer, pausing for longer periods as he studied the scene. He could smell a faint but pungent animal odor in the area. Not from bear, not anything he could name. It alarmed him. Without realizing it, he reached up to loosen the silver daggers in their sheaths up his sleeves and then he heard the faintest rustle behind him. Bane swung around as a huge furry bulk heaved up and lunged right at him with a roar.
III.
Only that he happened to have his left hand closed on the hilt of his silver dagger saved Bane's life in that instant. He had started to draw it even as he first sensed something rearing up near him. Wendeego's long emaciated fingers reached for his intended prey like hooks. Bane slashed backhand with his dagger and its edge sliced deeply across one paw. Those weapons were made of ensalir, silver that had been blessed by the immortal Eldarin long ago, and they were very potent against dark forces. The monster shrieked a high piercing note and whipped his other hand around to crack Bane right across the left temple with an impact that threw him off his feet to crash against an oak tree.
The Dire Wolf hit that tree hard enough to bounce off, landing on his hands and knees. He was not completely unconscious, he still had a sense of where he was, but he was so dazed that he could not react to anything. His vision was blurred and his head was ringing as if it were inside an actual bell. Not quite knowing why, Bane dug around in the dirt with his fingers to try and find the silver dagger he had dropped.
Looming up over him, Wendeego snarled. He seemed to be a very tall man in the final stages of starvation, naked, with every rib showing clearly and his face sunken under deep-circled eyes. Long thick white hair hung from his head halfway down his back, and strangely, that same long hair grew down his arms and across his bony chest. Wendeego crouched over his dazed prey and showed jagged fangs as he grinned.
Bane's thoughts were clearing. Forgetting for the moment the dagger he had lost, he drew the other one and held it ready. He tried to rise to his feet but only fell to one side. A normal Human would likely have been killed by the blows he had taken, and even his healing factor needed a few seconds to bring him back. All he knew what that he was facing a terrible enemy and needed to get ready.
The monster howled once, a long drawn-out cry, and stepped warily closer toward Bane. Wendeego seemed a bit apprehensive about that silver dagger, but it was not going to be deterred. Saliva dripped from its fangs as it literally licked its lips...
Then a newcomer crashed hard into Wendeego from the side, knocking the creature down and away from Bane. The stranger was a man in a snug uniform of black leather that covered him completely, except for the silver helmet on his head. On his left arm was a round shield, and a straight three-foot sword was in a scabbard at his left hip. The stranger had come running full tilt to smash into Wendeego, losing his own balance in the collision. In an instant, he had leaped up to his feet again and swung the circular shield into place to deflect a slash from Wendeego's claws.
Seeing the once-familiar figure in black and silver, with the helmet crafted to resemble a human skull, Bane managed to get to his feet. "Larry..?"
The newcomer slid his sword from its scabbard with a hiss, and its straight blade gleamed with the same sheen as Bane's silver daggers. It was made of fine steel incorporating chips of ensalir. As the sword Chalcemar was flourished, Wendeego spun on one heel and loped on all fours away into the woods faster than any man could run. Left behind, two men regarded each other with surprise on both their parts.
The silver helmet looked like a human skull, but the eyes of the man within could not be seen somehow. The eyeholes of the helmet remained black. Not a bit of skin could be seen. He sheathed his sword, adjusted the belt on which the scabbard hung, and stared at Bane with that unreadable expression.
The Dire Wolf felt back to normal now, as his enhanced healing shook off the damage he had taken. "But... no. Larry Taper is dead. That was five years ago in Necropolis. I was there. The Silver Skull outfit vanished as he died, and no one knew where it went." He raised an accusing finger. "You must be the one the Silver Skull itself chose as a worthy successor. Who are you? Where have you been all these years?"
No answer came from the man in black and silver. Shifting the round shield on its straps across his left forearm, the Skull simply turned and began walking away. As Bane yelled in protest, the man turned from the waist and raised an open gloved hand in a respectful salute before continuing.
After a second, the Dire Wolf decided to let him go. The new Silver Skull after all had very likely saved his life just now. If he wanted to keep his face and name secret, well, that would have to be respected. He felt sure they would cross paths again. For the next ten minutes, Bane searched until he found the silver dagger that had been spun aside when he had been hit by Wendeego. Those daggers had been given to him by Kenneth Dred himself when they had first met, when Bane had first learned of the Midnight War, and he would give up everything else he owned rather than part with them.
It was getting dark. Somewhere out there was the Wendeego. Bane examined the dagger and satisfied himself it had not been damaged before he sheathed it again. Now he had to get back to the hunt. He still had to check that house for unwelcome tenants, which might include a flesh-eating monster and his punk rock girlfriend. But now, in addition to the three men already searching for Wendeego, it seemed the new Silver Skull was on the trail as well.
Bane froze as a strange thought struck him. The Skull helmet and armor and weapons appeared on a worthy successor when the previous holder of the role died, but there was no set time for this to happen. It could be years later. Why was the new Skull here of all places? What if one of those three men WAS the Silver Skull?
IV.
Heading back to where Wendeego had struck him, the Dire Wolf found fresh blood from the monster's slashed arm and he began to follow the splashes. The blood quickly became a few scattered drops and then stopped. Evidently the creature had a healing factor better than Bane's own, something useful to know. Even without the bleeding, though, a creature that size and weight left a trail easy to follow. Bane raced along, realized that the trail was heading to the top of the rise where the house located and picked up speed. Wendeego would not take him by surprise a second time.
The garage door was fully open and the vehicle inside was gone. Muddy tire tracks indicated an SUV. Bane realized that by the time he got down the driveway to where he had left his own car, Wendeego and his girlfriend would be too far gone for hopes of catching up to them. Pulling on thin latex gloves from an inner pocket, he entered the house. The back door had been left ajar. He stepped inside and prowled quickly from one room to the next.
The house had been trashed. Not just careless or slovenly use, but deliberate vandalism. Scraps of food and dirty dishes were everywhere. Three empty pizza boxes and five fried chicken containers were left where they had dropped after use. Empty beer bottles added to the debris. From what Bane remembered of Wendigo lore, the monsters were always ravenous and this seemed to confirm it.
The bathroom was a disaster. He'd hate to be a housekeeper assigned to clean that mess. One bedroom was the same, and the bed was visibly broken with a sag in the middle. Bane moved on. Another bedroom seemed untouched except that the covers had been thrown aside and the sheets missing. That caught his attention. He found a kitchen knife tossed in one corner and a couple of scraps of white linen.
It meant they had a prisoner, he thought. They had cut up sheets to tie someone up. He rushed through the rest of the rooms, but the two squatters seemed to have confined themselves to the ground floor. Bane hurried back outside. He went through the garage for any clues and saw something that made his heart sink. A child's sneaker, red and white, lying near where the SUV had been parked. If Bane had been determined to capture these monsters before, he was coldly furious now.
Hurtling down the driveway at a run few athletes could approach, the Dire Wolf found his rented car where he had left it. He dove behind the wheel and sped down the backroad, still heading north to where the next unoccupied house on his list was. As he drove, Bane tugged the Link from his belt, patched into the phone system and called the police. He had never worked with the local police before but they knew about him from when he had captured Seneca in the area a few years earlier. He informed them that he had information that the fugitives probably had a hostage, a child no more than ten years old, and they were driving an SUV. The officer on the line badgered him for more information and his whereabouts, but Bane only said he was on the case and getting reports himself. There was no way for Human technology to get a fix on a call from a Trom device like the Link, but Bane hung up shortly in any case.
As he rushed along the road, he found houses were spaced widely apart with miles of forest between them. At each house he passed, he pulled over and peered at the area for any signs of anything out of the ordinary. In one, an older couple were working in the yard. In another, a teenage boy was practicing basketball with a hoop nailed to a tree. Bane could not imagine Wendeego being restrained enough to force his prisoners to act as if everything was normal, so he kept driving.
After a while, he unclipped his Link and set it to act as a police scanner. As he had expected, the force was in an uproar with every available officer called in for the search. Every report was quickly followed up on. Then he heard that a man named Jack Kenney was being detained after an altercation with two uniformed officers. It was mentioned that Kenny obstructed the cops in their duties and had become unruly, so he was taken into custody. This had happened in the town of Prescott. Bane gave one of his rare laughs at the mental image of 'Hound' arguing with the police. Well, it looked as if the famous bounty hunter was out of the chase for Wendeego.. and it also meant that he was not the new Silver Skull.
It was dark when he arrived at the second unoccupied house. This was a red brick building set well back from the road, with a large pond nearby in which two ducks swam. There was a picnic area by the pond, a long wooden table and two benches, as well as barbecue grill. Parked alongside the house was a black SUV with tinted windows and, as Bane spotted that, a predatory smile flickered for an instant on his taut face. He had just started up the short driveway when he saw the silver Audi behind the SUV and the man getting out of it.
It was Richard Park, the former Mandate agent who was hunting Wendeego for personal vengeance.
Bane jammed on the brakes and dove out of his car, hitting the ground running. He did not want to shout a warning in case the monster was in the house and had not seen Park. Maybe he could reach the man in time to protect him. But a huge bony hulk with a white mane swirling behind it pounced directly on Park with a snarl. The two forms tumbled to the ground, then Wendeego rose with blood all over his face and chest. He saw the oncoming man in black and howled just before five 38 slugs punched home in his torso. The impact flung him down.
Almost on top of the monster, Bane holstered the empty revolver and whipped one of the silver daggers free with his left hand. He dropped into a crouch, swinging the blade in a figure eight pattern as he got within reach. Wendeego rose unharmed from the gunshots and grinned hideously. His fangs were yellow and sharp. The Dire Wolf was almost within arm's reach and that silver dagger seemed to alarm the monster. Wendeego raised an arm defensively, growling deep in his chest, and took a step back.
"Don't like silver, eh?" Bane said. "You'll be tasting it in a second." Even within reach of the monster, with his attention focused on the attack, Bane's peripheral awareness was still active. A movement to his left just caught his eye and instinctively he dropped to the ground, catching his weight on fingertips of his free hand and his toes. The sharp crack of a high-powered rifle sounded close by, drowning out the hiss the bullet might have made as it passed overhead.
There. Standing by the black SUV, a tall thin woman with dark red hair, bundled in a denim shirt and jeans too big for her. She was aiming a Marlin 30-30 right at him. In that fraction of a second, knowing his revolver was empty and she was too far away to count on accuracy with a knife throw, Bane flung himself over Richard Park's bloody corpse and came up with the bulk of Wendeego between him and the woman.
Bane was wearing the silk-thin Trom armor beneath his clothing as usual, but his head was unprotected. At this range, whether she was skilled with that rifle or not, Liz Bean had a good chance of hitting him. Wendeego did not seem aware of any of this. He had swung around as Bane landed near him, and the deepset red eyes flared. This close, the monster looked less human than ever. He was like a man who had died of starvation, covered with lank white hair.
Roaring, the creature lunged and Bane met him with a slash of the silver dagger back and forth across the bony chest. More blood spurted out in a bright crimson geyser. Wendeego shrieked and back awkwardly away, falling and struggling to get up again. The Dire Wolf wiped hot blood off his face with the back of his free hand, determined not to get any of it in his mouth. It was cannibalism that had activated the Wendeego curse in the first place.
As Wendeego fell to the asphalt of the parking area by the house, Liz Bean raised her rifle again. Bane got a good look at the long face with its slightly beaky nose and full lips. The red hair was a brilliant unnatural crimson even in the gloom. She smiled with cruel satisfaction as she took aim, and a black-gloved fist blasted squarely against the side of her jaw. Liz staggered wildly and fell to her hands and knees, almost unconscious from that unexpected blow.
The Silver Skull kicked the Marlin to one side, glared down at the dazed woman and drew his sword.
"Wait!" Bane shouted. "They have a prisoner. We need her to tell us what they've done with him!"
"I wasn't going to kill her," came a hollow voice from inside the gleaming helmet. "You just finish off that beast."
"Fine," the Dire Wolf said. He went over to where Wendeego had gotten up on one knee but was unable to fully rise. The creature was bleeding heavily from the deep gashes across its chest. Those silver daggers were potent against creatures of night, and few could survive their edge. Coming around warily behind Wendeego, Bane gripped the creature's long mane with one hand and tugged the head back. His other hand drew a silver blade deeply across the monster's windpipe. The Dire Wolf stepped back and let the dying creature drop face down to the ground.
"I'm not sure he could have talked anyway," he said to the Skull. "He had changed too far."
"That just means YOU need to start talking," the man in black said to the stunned woman at his feet. The helmet distorted his voice enough that Bane could not say he recognized it. "Come on, where's the child you took?"
She muttered incoherently, trying to rise. That punch had nearly knocked her out and she seemed unsure of the situation. The Silver Skull slid his sword back into its scabbard and waited for her to recover.
"Too bad we weren't able to save Park here," Bane said as he cleaned his dagger carefully with a silicone cloth from his jacket pocket. Near him, the gruesome corpse of the ex-Mandate agent still sprawled on its back, abdomen ripped open by the monster's talons. "If I had gotten here a minute earlier..."
"You couldn't have known he was coming here, Bane. Neither could I."
"You know me, huh? Just who are you, anyway?" the Dire Wolf demanded. He sheathed his dagger up his sleeve and glanced down at the blood all over his shirt and jacket. It was already getting sticky. "How did you get here anyway? How do you keep showing up?"
"Who I really am... does not matter," the Skull replied. "We will meet again many times, Dire Wolf. Our mission is far from ended." With that, he pointed a gloved hand at the nearby black SUV. "But you are neglecting the victim."
Grudgingly, Bane went over and looked in through the window. In the rear compartment, a small boy was stretched out, tied tightly with strips of white cloth. He stirred and rolled sluggishly over.
"He's alive. Looks like he might have been drugged. I'll call for an ambulance," Bane said. He checked vital signs. The kid was breathing deeply and evenly, the pulse was steady if a bit slow. Turning, he glanced around and saw no sign of the Skull. "What, again? Larry Taper never pulled tricks like that."
Liz Bean had managed to get into a seated position, leaning back against the outer wall of the house. She didn't seem like she would be going anywhere under her own power soon. Taking some packaged alcohol swabs he always carried, the Dire Wolf cleaned up his face and hands as best he could. Using his Link, he called the police and gave the address, explaining the situation and requesting an ambulance. Then he phoned the closest FBI office and contacted Department 21 Black. They promised a squad there within half an hour.
Suddenly tired as the adrenalin died down, Bane tugged his jacket and turtleneck off, turning them inside out. Making a tight bundle of the bloody clothing, he put it inside a clean trash liner in the trunk of the rented car and got a fresh shirt from the knapsack he always carried. He cleaned up as best he could.
Waiting for the ambulance and the police, the Dire Wolf opened the front door of the Hyundai and plopped down wearily. He didn't like dealing with Department 21 Black but with a situation like this, it was necessary. They would claim precedence over the scene and take over completely. The police certainly would be furious, they usually were when a federal agency pushed them aside, but their orders from higher up would be for silence. The payback would come later, when 21 Black would come to Bane with a "suggestion" where his abilities would be useful.
Head lowered, Bane deeply wished he could skip the next few days. Reading and signing statements, answering the same questions a thousand times to make sure his answers were always the same, being sworn never to make public what had happened here. And there lay poor Richard Park, ripped open while trying to avenge a friend. Over there was Liz Bean, still dazed, who would probably never go to trial but just be quietly placed under observation in a government-run mental health facility and never be found ready for release. What the little boy knew, what he would remember of these traumatizing events, was impossible to predict. Bane hoped the kid would be as okay as could be after such an experience but that was something beyond his ability to help.
He heard sirens coming nearer. Bane stood up, took a deep breath, and scowled at the grotesque corpse of Wendeego. He wished he could get away with just vanishing neatly the way the Skull did.
1/11/2016
