Full Moonster [BUREAU 13 Book Three] (25 page)

His big finger stabbed at the map. “There's it is. Down this corridor, make a left, three doors, right."

I rolled the floor plan and tucked it into my belt. “Oddbotkins, that's groovy, homeboy. Let's rock."

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We had only taken a step when Mike gasped in pain. I turned about and saw the priest taking a hand away from his right hip. The palm was covered with red.

"They must have shot me,” Donaher said, sounding amazed.

The priest started wobbling a bit and I slid a chair underneath to stop him from falling over. Gently raising the cassock, I found his pants and shirt were dripping with blood. Tenderly as possible, I probed for a wound.

He inhaled sharply. “It's in my hip."

"Can't get a tourniquet there,” I stated. Feeling in my pockets I found the bottle of Healing potion. Empty.

"Mine's also gone,” Father Donaher groaned. He was a bit pale by now and starting to sweat.

That was the way most small caliber bullet wounds worked. At first your body rejected the pain, but with blood loss it was soon undeniable. I touched his throat searching for the carotid artery. His pulse was up, yet his temperature was down. Sweaty and clammy. There was major internal hemorrhaging. He was dying.

"Wanna do a George?” I asked, feeling a lump in my throat.

He exhaled mightily and nodded yes.

I ripped off my white shirt and folded it into a pressure compress, using my tie to hold it in place. The belt would have worked better but I needed that to keep up my pants.

With Donaher's weakening assistance, I moved the chair to the wall and dragged a sofa in front. His back was protected and the furniture gave him some cover to hide behind. It would have do suffice. Dripping sweat, Mike gave me a shaky thumbs-up and I hurriedly departed. It was my job now. Alone.

Rounding a corner, I bumped into somebody holding a Wichita Thunderbolt .475 pistol. Adrenaline flooded my body and with blinding speed I aimed and fired the M16 in the same motion.

Scowling in annoyance, J.P. Withers looked down at the line of puckered bullet holes in his chest, the gaping wounds exposing a wealth of very odd looking internal organs.

"Well, if you didn't want my damn help,” he growled, “you only had to say so. No need to be rude.” In a flash, Withers vanished.

"No wait!” I cried to the empty corridor. Blast the man! Then I paused. Wait a minute, if he Gated in, then were the runes down? Was help on the way? There was no way to know. I hurried onward.

At a pair of double doors with tiny decorative widows set in them, I stayed low and peeked through. Exhibit Hall A.

Surrounding a ticket booth, sparkling layers of non-reality swirled and spun in a multicolored light show of dimensional instability. Countless phantasms strolled along, crossing from one world to the next: transparent fish swam by, ghostly flocks of birds, spectral racing cars, an ethereal cavalry charge, a spirited elephant stampede. The floor bucked and writhed like a living thing. The walls pulsed and the ceiling constantly broke apart, the acoustic tiles sliding over each other to endlessly rearrange themselves.

On the ground were the charred bones of the Marine honor guard that accompanied the moon rock wherever it went. Behind the velvet ropes was a little old lady poised in the act of lifting the unearthly object from the Lucite base. Bingo!

Something hit me from behind. Burning pain filled my skull and I felt my heart slow ... down ... and ... st..art again!

Completely healed, I sat upright and blew smoke out of my mouth. The copper bracelet on my wrist gave one last tingle and went still. Whew. That was the third and last Jump Start I had ever experienced. My quota was filled. I could never again use the death-or-life emergency Healing spell. But whoever had killed me, left too soon. They would pay for that mistake.

Once more, I peeked into the main exhibit hall. Stalking around on patrol was a werewolf holding a crimson splattered fire axe. That was my blood and brains on the blade! Boy, was I pissed off now! In a curse that was more snarl than words, I kicked open the doors and cut loose with the M16.

"Eat silver, bozo!” I screamed.

The stuttering stream of Army tumblers stitched the monster's torso, shoving him backwards until it hit the marble wall and collapsed to the floor, twisted and bleeding.

"...should have known ... silver bullets,” the monster coughed weakly.

Trying my best to radiate confidence, I moved towards the lady and rock. I was almost there, when the werewolf clawed at his chest, pulling one of the slugs free with a faint sucking sound. Intently, he stared at the grayish lump.

"Just a darn minute,” the beast growled, the flow of blood from its wounds noticeably slowing. “This isn't silver!"

"Hey, so I lied. Sue me, creep,” I sneered, hosing another clip into the monster.

As the air cleared, I could see that the nightmare creature had literally been cut in half by the fusillade. Howling in agony, the werewolf was writhing about on the floor, his claws digging sharp furrows into the crimson-splattered stone. Ha!

Then I watched in horror as the Scion werewolf pulled on its legs as a man would don a pair of pants. Whole once more, the beast stood and hobbled forward in a weak charge.

There was no time for this! Glancing at a huge clock placed prominently on the wall, I saw that one hand was spinning backwards, while the other hung limp. Swell.

"Gonna eat, then kill you,” the manbeast snarled insanely.

Slamming in the last clip, I didn't bother to reply. The heavy combat rounds made the creature jerk with every impact, but nothing more. Out of bullets, I hurled the rifle and hopped over the velvet ropes. There was still a chance to rescue the lady. I had a teleport bracelet. If I used it on her instead of me....

Something got my collar and I was yanked backwards to hit the floor. As claws reached for my face, I delivered a killing karate chop to the kidney. Now I was no Mindy Jennings, but I had been trained by some of the best.

As the werewolf howled in pain from the dirty blow, I rolled to my feet, and spinning about, kicked the monster's knee, feeling the bone crunch under the edge of my shoe. The beast staggered and almost fell. Then he stood, whole and undamaged, and rising to its full eight feet in height roared like the primordial beast it was!

"Aw, shaddup,” I growled and kicked him in the groin.

Gasping in pain, the werewolf raked its claws at me.

Gracefully as a willow tree, I bowed beneath the blow, stepped in and rammed both of my fists into the jaw of the creature with triphammer force.

Merely bruised, the werewolf shook off the tap and butted me hard. I saw the ceiling go by as I went flying to smack into a wall with a sickening crack. Badly disorientated, I staggered to my feet. Bemused, the unshaven Scion agent laughed, a mistake that nearly cost him a jaw. Shouting a martial arts battle cry, I leapt and hit the man-beast in a flying kick, powered by my full hundred and fifty pounds of Wyoming ranch muscle. Kill me, will you?

Spitting teeth, the stunned werewolf staggered about, so I pressed the attack home. Had to get this yutz off me so I could teleport the old lady out of here. How close were we to O'Hare? How soon till the missiles blew us all to hell? My sunfist broke the nose of the monster, cupped hands slapped against its pointed ears rupturing eardrums. A finger jab nearly removed an eye. As I had been trained to do, I was concentrating on the werewolf's head, probably the only vulnerable spot the creature had. If it had any.

No longer amused by this game, the enraged werewolf thrust his paws downward to rend me apart. I barely managed to sway out of the way, the front of my bodyarmor ripped away and three shallow red lines on my stomach began oozing blood. Oh crap! This close to the epicenter of the ethereal vortex, the protective spell on my T-shirt had been nullified!

Once again, I ducked under a fist the size of an express train. Diving past the hairy titan, I tripped on the ropes. Frantically rolling aside, a hairy foot slammed on the floor, cracking the marble and just missing my head. Since it was so close, I did the only logical act and buried my teeth into the shin of the monster. Hey, any damage done to an opponent, no matter how minor, was a point in your favor. Crunching hard, my mouth filled with the coppery taste of warm blood. Bleh. How do vampires live on this stuff?

Strangely, the werewolf screamed from the tiny wound as if he had lost a limb and violently shook me off. Taking advantage of the situation, I scrambled to my feet, grabbed a hairy arm and tossed the giant creature over my shoulder in a classic Judo throw. The monster hit the marble wall like a sack of wet newspapers advertising cement and slid to the floor, leaving a grisly trail on blood to mark its passage.

Forcing itself to stand, the groggy creature turned to face me eye-to-eye. Eh? When had the beast shrunk in size?

Shrieking in pain, the werewolf seemed to blur as ripples of change spread outwards from the trivial wound in its leg. Hair follicles withdrew into the skin, its jaw shortened, fangs shrank and ears became round and pink.

Catching my breath, I had a flash of understanding. According to the legends, if a werewolf bit a person, they became a werewolf. So maybe to cure a werewolf, what you had to do was ... bite him back? Well, waddayano!

In stark terror, the transforming monster tried to escape, but I tripped him. Scrunching his face, the Scion agent tried to countermand the transformation. But it proved unstoppable, and soon I was towering over a naked man with the most amazingly innocent expression on his face.

"Why, I am cured!” he cried joyously. “It is like I have awakened from a bad dream."

Oh brother, now tell me the one about the magic bunny. I guess my expression revealed my feelings, because he went pale.

"Don't you believe me, officer?” the runt asked, with a sickly sweet grin.

Now how would he knew I was a cop unless he remembered his actions as a werewolf? “Should have copped the Fifth, pal,” I said, slamming the cowardly killer smack in the bazoo with every ounce of strength I possessed.

The blow nearly succeeded in melding his nose to ear. Spinning like a drugged top, the scrawny bastard spewed blood and teeth as he toppled to floor, nowhere near as dead as he deserved.

Hurriedly turning about, I kicked over the ropes and advanced for the rock lady. But then from the midst of the raging dimensional storm came a dark flash, followed by a sucking retort. Then everything went calm, and with a sick feeling in my stomach, I knew the Fly spell had just been cancelled. The hotel was starting to fall.

Retreating a meter, I charged at the old woman. Instantly, I was bombarded by delusions of madness: scenes from my personal past, movies clips, TV commercials and vignettes from the legitimate theatre. Struggling to retain my sanity, I fought my way through the phantasmal hordes of historical figures and cartoon caricatures. Step by step, I advanced. Grimly determined to reach her or die. My heart began to pound wildly. It was difficult breathing. My skin tightened painfully, my bones shifted positions, my hair began to grow ...
Holy tapdancing Jesus, I was becoming a werewolf!

As ghostly bicycles raced through the room, I threw myself forward against the hurricane force of the space-twisting rift. Stretching until I thought joints would pop, I just barely managed to slip the bracelet on her skinny wrist.

"Home!” I screamed, then in my mind,
HOMEHOMEHOME
!

In a flash of ethereal light, she instantly vanished taking along the transdimensional vortex. Whew! But still braced counter the ethereal winds, I was caught off balance and hit the floor. Success! Chicago was safe! Ouch, landed on my car keys.

My joy dimmed as giant cracks appeared in the floor, and the ticket booth collapsed. The whole damn hotel was shuddering from the raw velocity of its unchecked plummet. I always knew this job would kill me someday. Well, at least it would be quick. No, wait a damn minute, I'm in a hotel for an occult convention!

Adrenaline rushing in my veins, I glanced about. With the departure of the moon rock, now exposed on the other side of the exhibit hall was a line of dealers booths. Struggling to keep my balance on the disco-dancing building, I did a fast inventory of the magical paraphernalia: crystal balls, books, pyramids, Tarot cards, Quija boards, cassette tapes, knives, rugs. Rugs! Yes! But my sunglasses were long gone. How was I supposed to know which was real and which the sham?

Gathering air into my lungs, I shouted a Word Of Power above the deafening noise of cracking concrete. A rug at the bottom of the pile seemed to tremble. Maybe it was just my imagination. I yanked it free, sending the rest of the carpets tumbling to the floor. Then again, maybe not.

The doorway collapsed and the windows exploded. Icy winds howled throughout the hotel tearing the fixtures off the walls.

Rummaging in the debris, I found an assortment of ornamental daggers. Hoped they were clean. Snatching a serpentine kris, I sliced my palm and squeezed a fist letting the drops fall onto the carpet.

"One is for thy weaver.” Drip. “One is for thy master.” Drip. Oh hell, what was next? Ah, yes. “One is for thee.” Drip, drip, drip. “And three is for me."

Nothing happened.

As the building started to break apart around me, I angrily dropkicked the carpet. “Fly, damn you!"

Instantly responding to a direct command, the woven cloth went rigid hovering at knee level. Banzai! Grabbing another carpet, I hopped onto the Egyptian Express wrapping the second rug tight around me. Oh god, I hoped this worked.

The curtains and carpet burst into flames, and a steel I-beam pierced a wall, coming dangerously close.

"Get me out of here!” I commanded.

Wafting casually, it headed for the stairs.

"Straight through the window!” I screamed. “And don't spare the horsehairs!"

In a shower of glass I was suddenly outside the hotel and flying through the starry sky. Yowsa! When this thing cut loose, even George would be impressed with the speed. I decided to name it Runner.