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Read Online Full Moonster [BUREAU 13 Book Three] by Nick Pollotta - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Nick Pollotta
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that the concrete was very hard and unfriendly at this time of year.
"Of course, there's always blind luck,” she relented.
"Divine providence,” Donaher corrected.
Working the bolt on the M60 to clear a jam, George grunted. “Thought that was in Rhode Island."
"Heathen."
"Democrat,” George corrected.
Thumbing in fresh rounds, Father Donaher snorted. “Same thing."
Just then, a thin finger of flame stretched out from the hotel and impacted on the barrier with pyrotechnic results.
"What in the ... that was a LAW rocket!” George stormed, as the mountain breeze blew the blast cloud away. “A light-anti-tank rocket! Who are these guys?"
Retrieving my sunglasses from the dirt, I tucked them back into place. “You tell me, Sundance."
Adjusting the focus with my Donaher thumb, I found the hotel and trailed upward until I located our attackers on the top floor. Long rifle barrels protruded from open windows and I got a fine clear view of them: two men and a woman.
Then the world went very still. Because through the Kirlian sensitive lenses, I could also see the aura of the normally invisible tattoo on their foreheads. A very famous tattoo. The design of a dagger through the moon.
"It's the Scion,” I announced calmly as possible.
At the base of the hotel, the smashed body stood as a large hairy form and dashed inside the hotel. “And they're the werewolves."
More bullets came our way, as another LAW rocket streaked by and missed hitting the invisible shield by scant inches. It disappeared into the distance and exploded somewhere in the forest.
"The Scion?” Katrina asked, rubbing her wand.
Keeping things brief, I explained. The Scion of the Silver Dagger was a lunatic organization dedicated to destroying the world for no particular reason that we have ever been able to discover. Sort of a dark version of the Bureau, they practiced voodoo, witchcraft, black magic, ate human flesh, and were generally considered on the level of something to scrap off your shoe before entering a house.
"Saints preserve us!” Father Donaher cried, smacking his forehead. “Ed, this isn't a lost Bureau base, its one of theirs!"
Yeow! What a notion.
"It certainly would explain the weird offensive devices we encountered,” George commented dryly, fingering the US Army Colt .45 on his belt. “Who else but the Scion would have killer crabgrass and military weapons?"
"A militant arm of Green Peace?” Mindy joked, her hands twisting on the pommel of her sword.
"But what is the Scion of the Silver Dagger doing with an occult convention,” Jessica asked petulantly, her camera clicking steadily. “Holding a recruiting drive?"
On my command, the team stood, fired, and crouched again.
"That's certainly a possibility,” I acknowledged, reloading quickly. The spent brass shells rang musically as they bounced off the hard ground. “They certainly have suffered a lot of personnel losses recently. Especially after their massive failure with the Forever Castle."
"True enough."
Another LAW rocket hit the shimmering barrier in strident fury. Loud, too. I yawned to pop my ears back into working order.
"An occult convention where something went horribly wrong. Or worse, something went horribly right.” Mindy blinked, and shook her head. “Causing Hadleyville to be destroyed, and every surviving member of the Scion transformed into a werewolf."
"A sentient werewolf?"
His big freckled map of Ireland melted into a frown. “Feh,” Father Donaher muttered.
Thumbing fresh rounds into my revolvers, I agreed. Feh on toast. With ketchup and anchovies.
"Raul, how long can you hold this barrier?” George asked, laying an assortment of grenades on the ground. Father Donaher was doing the same, and Mindy was hastily assembling a compound bow from her pocket arsenal of secret ninja deathdealers. Patent pending.
Spreading powders on the dirt in a rune pattern, the mage loftily sniffed his disdain. “Against purely physical weapons? No
"Of course, there's always blind luck,” she relented.
"Divine providence,” Donaher corrected.
Working the bolt on the M60 to clear a jam, George grunted. “Thought that was in Rhode Island."
"Heathen."
"Democrat,” George corrected.
Thumbing in fresh rounds, Father Donaher snorted. “Same thing."
Just then, a thin finger of flame stretched out from the hotel and impacted on the barrier with pyrotechnic results.
"What in the ... that was a LAW rocket!” George stormed, as the mountain breeze blew the blast cloud away. “A light-anti-tank rocket! Who are these guys?"
Retrieving my sunglasses from the dirt, I tucked them back into place. “You tell me, Sundance."
Adjusting the focus with my Donaher thumb, I found the hotel and trailed upward until I located our attackers on the top floor. Long rifle barrels protruded from open windows and I got a fine clear view of them: two men and a woman.
Then the world went very still. Because through the Kirlian sensitive lenses, I could also see the aura of the normally invisible tattoo on their foreheads. A very famous tattoo. The design of a dagger through the moon.
"It's the Scion,” I announced calmly as possible.
At the base of the hotel, the smashed body stood as a large hairy form and dashed inside the hotel. “And they're the werewolves."
More bullets came our way, as another LAW rocket streaked by and missed hitting the invisible shield by scant inches. It disappeared into the distance and exploded somewhere in the forest.
"The Scion?” Katrina asked, rubbing her wand.
Keeping things brief, I explained. The Scion of the Silver Dagger was a lunatic organization dedicated to destroying the world for no particular reason that we have ever been able to discover. Sort of a dark version of the Bureau, they practiced voodoo, witchcraft, black magic, ate human flesh, and were generally considered on the level of something to scrap off your shoe before entering a house.
"Saints preserve us!” Father Donaher cried, smacking his forehead. “Ed, this isn't a lost Bureau base, its one of theirs!"
Yeow! What a notion.
"It certainly would explain the weird offensive devices we encountered,” George commented dryly, fingering the US Army Colt .45 on his belt. “Who else but the Scion would have killer crabgrass and military weapons?"
"A militant arm of Green Peace?” Mindy joked, her hands twisting on the pommel of her sword.
"But what is the Scion of the Silver Dagger doing with an occult convention,” Jessica asked petulantly, her camera clicking steadily. “Holding a recruiting drive?"
On my command, the team stood, fired, and crouched again.
"That's certainly a possibility,” I acknowledged, reloading quickly. The spent brass shells rang musically as they bounced off the hard ground. “They certainly have suffered a lot of personnel losses recently. Especially after their massive failure with the Forever Castle."
"True enough."
Another LAW rocket hit the shimmering barrier in strident fury. Loud, too. I yawned to pop my ears back into working order.
"An occult convention where something went horribly wrong. Or worse, something went horribly right.” Mindy blinked, and shook her head. “Causing Hadleyville to be destroyed, and every surviving member of the Scion transformed into a werewolf."
"A sentient werewolf?"
His big freckled map of Ireland melted into a frown. “Feh,” Father Donaher muttered.
Thumbing fresh rounds into my revolvers, I agreed. Feh on toast. With ketchup and anchovies.
"Raul, how long can you hold this barrier?” George asked, laying an assortment of grenades on the ground. Father Donaher was doing the same, and Mindy was hastily assembling a compound bow from her pocket arsenal of secret ninja deathdealers. Patent pending.
Spreading powders on the dirt in a rune pattern, the mage loftily sniffed his disdain. “Against purely physical weapons? No
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