Ambushed (34 page)

Carson's
laugh was surprisingly boyish. "I'm afraid that using a
cellphone is currently the extent of my technological prowess. If
you'll give me a time and a place we can meet the day before the
operation and I can review your plans then."

"Okay,
that works for me. There's a city in New Mexico called Roswell. If
you travel an hour and a half in the direction you had me travel from
the car the last time we talked, you'll find me. I'll be in the
hotel."

It
wasn't bulletproof as far as making sure that nobody knew where we
were going, but it was the best I could do.

I
could hear Carson reaching for a pen and notepad and I waited while
he wrote down my coded directions.

"Very
good. Are you planning on bringing the item you stole from your
father with you on this trip?"

It
took me a minute to realize that he was talking about the massive
two-handed sword that had been created back in the time of the
monarchy.

"Yes,
actually, it figures into my plans in a fairly central way."

"We'll
need to talk about that. Such…items…aren't meant to be
used under these kinds of circumstances, but bring it nonetheless.
There are things I can teach you about its use."

Carson
hung up before I could even begin to process the idea that he'd just
told me that he knew how to use my sword, that he was familiar with a
style of fighting that had disappeared centuries before either of us
had been born.

Alec Graves
Ambush site
Southern New Mexico

It defied belief that I'd been on such a dramatic high such a short time
before. The rendezvous with Carson had gone just fine. He'd brought
all of the people he'd promised to bring, but they were an odd bunch.

They
were quiet, even more so than you would have expected from a group of
shape shifters who were forced to associate with other moonborn they
didn't fully trust. They were almost cliquish. It was the kind of
thing that you expected out of a pack that had a long history
together. It wasn't the right vibe to be getting from a bunch of
dispossessed wolves and hybrids whose only common tie was Carson.

There
was something there that I needed to figure out, preferably sooner
rather than later, but the eve before a big fight wasn't the time to
be picking at the threads currently holding our Frankenstein
coalition together.

One
of Jack's contacts, motivated by a hefty bribe, had come through for
us in a big way. We currently had a live, scrambled, feed from one of
the government surveillance satellites over the area, which meant
that Rachel and the Petersons were watching—in real time—the
progress of the motorcade carrying Agony.

We'd
arrived at the scene of the ambush about an hour after sunrise. It
was still cold enough that thermal tracking was a problem, but we'd
spent the last hour and a half huddled under silver, reflective
blankets which Jack said would break up our thermal picture if Kaleb
currently had someone monitoring the area.

It
was good that Jack's uplink was working because everything else felt
like it was mere minutes from falling apart.

Shawn
hadn't showed up. He was more than half an hour behind schedule and
he hadn't answered the one call that I'd risked making on the
satellite phone that I'd brought along. It was a bad sign, and Carson
was smart enough to know exactly how much danger we were in.

"The
other group you've been expecting isn't coming, is it?"

"It's
not looking good. I can't say for sure that they aren't on their way
still, but it's definitely not looking good."

I
held up the small military-grade radio in my left hand. "Rachel
has been watching the area for me and she says that there aren't many
other vehicles on the road right now. If we were going to get any
company, either expected or otherwise, they should be on the road
right now, but Rachel said that there's only one or two vehicles on
the road right now that could make it here before the convoy comes
through."

"They
could have split up their men to help disguise the fact that they are
on the way."

I
gave him a humorless smile. "We're not talking about the good
guys anymore; you're worried that a bunch of enforcers are on their
way here to spring a counter-ambush."

"I'd
be lying if I said the thought hadn't crossed my mind."

I
shrugged. "It's possible, but Rach said that the closest
vehicles are subcompacts. Even if they had split up into three
different cars they still couldn't move very many people in vehicles
that small."

Carson
pondered my answer for several seconds. You couldn't pack shape
shifters, especially not the super-aggressive hybrids who usually
ended up working for the Coun'hij, in tighter than maybe two per car
when you were dealing with transport that tiny. It was persuasive
evidence that our operation hadn't been blown despite the fact that
Shawn hadn't shown up, but it wasn't a guarantee.

Unfortunately,
we weren't in a business that provided those kinds of guarantees. The
underlying math behind our situation hadn't changed. We had a large
group of both hybrids and wolves and we had a secret weapon in the
form of Grayson who apparently was capable of throwing large groups
of hybrids into uncontrollable seizures.

If
Grayson's ability worked as promised then we would be up against
something like a dozen hybrids all of whom would be completely
incapacitated for the period of time it would take us to close and
deal with them. If it didn't work then we were going to have a pretty
rough fight on our hands.

"All
of the arrangements for our getaway are still looking good then?"

"Yeah,
I had Rachel speed up a little so that she isn't as far behind
Agony's moving prison, but I can't have her get much closer without
potentially causing Agony's guards to get suspicious."

"Very
well, I think we should proceed then."

I
tried to maintain my composure; I mostly succeeded, but I couldn't
completely suppress a sigh of relief at the news that I wasn't going
to have to scrap the operation at the last minute. Carson didn't seem
to notice though. He was eyeing the sword strapped to my back. He'd
been doing much the same all morning, but so far he hadn't been ready
to get whatever it was that was bothering him off of his chest.

I
thought maybe he'd turn away again without saying anything, but he
finally sighed and started unzipping the large, slender black bag
that he'd been carrying around all morning. A few seconds' work
revealed a sword that was eerily similar to mine.

His
wasn't quite as ornate, not that mine was in any way ostentatious,
but other than his lacking the complex royal sigil on the blade, the
two weapons were nearly identical. They were both massive blades that
no human, regardless of how strong, could have possibly wielded
effectively.

My
sword was the weapon of a king, and his had originally been
commissioned for a lower-status hybrid, but they were both meant to
be carried into battle by six-and-a-half foot tall hybrids. It was
hard to think of many situations where a single hybrid wasn't deadly
enough, but they existed and swords like this had been envisioned as
a way of allowing my kind to meet nearly any opponent on equal terms.

"Where
did you get that?"

The
question burst out of me before I could second-guess the impulse.

"It
was a gift from someone who meant the world to me. That same
individual instructed me in its use."

"How
is that possible?"

Carson
gave me a sad smile. "There are many, many things you don't
know, Alec Graves. You're heir to an incredible legacy but even you
don't know everything that has transpired since your family fell from
power. Suffice it to say that there are places still where knowledge
that most of our kind believes to have been lost is still treasured
and passed on."

"Do
you know how to make more of them? The swords, I mean, do you know
the secret to their manufacture?"

"Why?
If I did know the lost art of making these weapons, what would you
use it for? Swords like this were the basis for how the monarchy was
originally established. Would you use them to return your family to a
position of preeminence?"

"I…I
guess I've never thought that far. I would use them to overthrow the
Coun'hij. I'm not sure what would come after that."

Carson
sighed. "Believe it or not, I understand your desires. When I
was much younger than I am now I felt much the same way, but my
instructor was adamant about one thing. He never wanted me to take up
this weapon against others of my own kind."

"He
thought they should only be used against the werewolves and jaguars?"

"Yes,
vampires as well, but the key was that I not use the gift he had
given me to slaughter other wolves and hybrids. I would ask a boon of
you. Do not take your weapon into this fight, don't dishonor its
legacy."

It
meant a lot to Carson. I could tell as much, even if I didn't share
his sentiment. The silence stretched out between us as I tried to
come up with a response that honored his concerns without giving up
the edge I needed.

"I'm
sorry, Carson. I understand why you don't want to see me use this
weapon against other hybrids and I think it's very admirable that
you've honored the memory of your teacher, but I can't give up an
edge that might make the difference between my friends dying or
surviving what's about to come."

Carson
looked away from me for a long moment and when he looked back his
face was even more grave than it had been a second before.

"Very
well, I see that I must offer something of value to you in exchange.
I will not ask you to risk the lives of your friends. I would suggest
a trade. If you will leave your sword next to that stream over there
I will leave mine there as well."

I
opened my mouth to refuse him, but he wasn't done.

"If
the fight starts going against our people then the two of us can fall
back to our weapons and I will help you save those you care about. In
exchange for your doing this, once we complete this operation I will
begin your instruction."

"You
would teach me to use a sword knowing that I would use it against the
Coun'hij?"

"I
would agree to teach you now in order to avoid seeing your blade
dishonored today and in the hopes that I'll be able to convince you
later on to use it only for its intended purpose."

I
looked out over the barren landscape to the west as I considered his
words. Nothing seemed to be moving for miles. The closest thing to
life that I could see was a plane that was high enough up that it
didn't seem to be moving at all.

"I
accept your proposal."

We
walked over to the spot Carson had indicated a short distance from
the stream that Jack had pointed out in his original briefing. As I
gently set my sword down on the bag next to Carson's I notice that
the stream was much louder than I'd expected, but it was the kind of
inconsequential observation that couldn't hold my attention. I was
too busy calculating distances and travel times to worry about how
fast the stream was flowing.

It
wasn't the perfect spot to leave the weapons, at least not for the
purpose I thought we were most likely to need them for, but it was
good enough and it would mean that I got to take over the most
exciting part of the upcoming fight.

Carson
and I walked back toward the road and everyone else. All three groups
were starting to get antsy. It was nearly time for the motorcade to
show up. As Jack shot me a questioning look, Rachel came on over the
radio.

"We're
in position and your target is inbound. You have about two minutes.
The porcelain doll is struggling. Hurry every chance you get."

That
last bit had been a reference to Brindi. She hadn't liked being
forced to stay with Rachel and the others, but she had no place in
the middle of what was about to happen. If anything went wrong there
would be no way to get her out safely. By now she was deep in the
throes of withdrawal, but I couldn't worry about that now.

I
held up the radio so everyone could see it. It was an unnecessary
gesture, we'd been close enough that everyone had already heard
Rachel's message.

"We're
a go. I'll take point on the semi. Jack, you're with James. Everyone
get in position!"

Jack
and James took off at a dead run towards the edge of the canyon while
the rest of us moved further down the road. Carson gripped my
arm—there was a reassuring solidness to the gesture—and
then he turned to follow the main body of our group as I headed in
the other direction at a jog.

I
made it to James and Jack as they were dragging the first set of
spike strips out on to the road. We'd run ropes to a nearby tree so
it was just a matter of pulling on the free end until the slack on
the rope was all used up. Once they hit the end of the rope, the
collapsible, accordion-like construction of the spike strips expanded
out and they dropped the strips into exactly the right place.

I
crossed over to the other side of the road and crouched behind a rock
as they ducked behind a tree and then there was nothing left to do
but wait.

I
knew we wouldn't have to wait long. Rachel's estimate had been right
on; I could already hear the sound of engines laboring to pull the
vehicles of Agony's moving prison up the steep grade.

A
couple of seconds later the two lead cars, a pair of black SUV's,
came up over the lip of the canyon and hit our spike strips. Neither
vehicle went careening out of control, even though the spikes worked.
They were equipped with run-flat tires just like I'd suspected they
would be. That was okay though, we'd planned around that.