White Winter (The Black Year Series Book 2) (23 page)

“All right, folks, let’s focus,” Frank said.

The floors were brown, spotted linoleum. The walls were pale yellow tile up to his shoulders and bare paint above that. Jonas looked right just in time to see someone’s face disappear from view and hear a door slam shut.

Two red elevators faced the entrance.

“Do we risk it?” Jim said. “It’s 12 floors.”

“I wouldn’t,” Thompson said. The others turned toward him. He shrugged. “I grew up in Brooklyn. Elevators always get stuck in the projects.”

“Stairs it is, then,” Frank said.

The stairway ran behind the elevators. It was so narrow you might have been able to squeeze two people side by side or one werewolf on a step. In places, the white, cinder block walls and gray-painted concrete floors had been splashed with beer, soda, or bodily fluids and never cleaned up. Each time they reached a floor, they passed a heavy metal door with a small square window that led to the hallways and elevators. More often than not, the door was guarded or at least watched from the other side. It reminded him of his earlier barriers, as if the place had been designed to be defended. He could still use the pendant to look into the surrounding apartments. Some people seemed unaware of what was going on, other than not being able to use their cellphones. Some were armed. Some families clustered in the room farthest from the door, waiting for whatever was going to happen to be over.

By the third floor, Jonas had stepped on condoms, discarded needles, plastic wrappers, and all kinds of broken glass.
You’re going to lose me soon, Jonas,
Madoc said.
I’ll link up with you as soon as you disable the ward.
It happened between the third and fourth floors, like walking up through the underside of a soap bubble. The others didn’t seem to notice.

The fifth floor was spotless. A muscular, tattooed man stared at them through the window.

“Guess some people take more pride in where they live than others,” Jonas said, turning the corner.

“There’s a lot of good in here, sir. Plenty of bad. Sometimes the worst people clean up the nicest.” Thompson said, breathing steadily. “Just like anywhere else.”

As he was passing the seventh floor, Jonas heard gunfire.

“Pick up the pace!” Frank yelled.

“Mr. Black?” Chief Grady said.

“Yes, Chief?” Jonas answered.

“Lead support elements are arriving now, establishing cordon.”

“That’s great, Chief. Are there any other teams in the building?”

“No, sir. Why?”

“A firefight just broke out over our heads. Not sure who they’re shooting at, but it’s not us.”

“Understood, sir. We’ll begin checking the lower floors as soon as the perimeter is secure.”

They passed the eighth landing. The humans were breathing hard. Three civilians, a man and a woman carrying a toddler, slid past them on the steps. A fourth man rounded the corner with a gun in his hand. He started raising it, and Billy put two rounds in his chest before bowling him out of the way with his shoulder. The man slumped in the corner, leaving a streak of blood on the wall behind him.

The gunfire above them had died down. Then there was a
whump
,
like the sound of a frag grenade going off.
Whump!

The team stacked on the door, one behind the other. Frank looked back at the two soldiers at the tail end and said, “Carlyle, Thompson, you hold this landing! Nothing comes up, nothing gets in, understood?”

“Yes, sir!” they said.

Jonas was breathing steadily, focused on the moment. Billy held out three fingers. Two. One.

Billy opened the door and led the stack in. A brown-furred werewolf leapt at him as soon as he stepped past the elevator. Jonas burned blood and raised his weapon to get a shot, but Frank and Jim were in the way. Billy let his weapon drop in the sling and drew a silver knife faster than Jonas would have thought possible, turning with the tackle, and stabbing the werewolf multiple times under the arm on the way down.
Whump!

Jim didn’t even slow his pace. “Popping smoke!” he said, rolling the grenade to the right. There was a loud
psssshhh
as the right hallway filled with dense, white smoke
;
Jim led the team to the left and shot as someone came running out of the far apartment with a weapon raised, dropping them in the hallway.

There were four doors, two on each side. The first door on the right was already open, so Jim and Frank went straight in without stopping.
Whump!
Jonas’ pulse was pounding in his ears.
First one through the door, first one through the door…
He felt Billy tap him on the shoulder, kicked the door to the left just under the lock, and moved in.

Jonas hooked left and posted at the first room, trusting Billy to cover the hallway to his right. There was a bathroom straight ahead, the ceramic bathtub cracked and the wall riddled with bullet holes. The air stank of gunpowder and sewage. Gunshots rang out from the apartment Frank and Jim were clearing.

Billy tapped his shoulder and he button-hooked into the room, swinging his weapon right while Billy went straight ahead. Jonas checked the closet. Billy dropped to his hands and knees to look under the bed, then yelled, “Clear!”

“Clear!” Jonas echoed.

Billy stacked on the door, scanned left, then moved right. Jonas followed, keeping his weapon pointed behind them. He bumped into Billy, and Billy moved into the next room. Jonas followed, going straight while Billy swung left. The room was littered with bodies and was the source of the smell. An injured man snarled and raised a submachine gun at Billy; Billy and Jonas both shot him several times. “Clear!” Jonas said. “Clear!” Billy echoed.
Whump!
The blasts were getting weaker, or farther away. He hoped the other teams were all right.

Now that half the apartment was clear, Jonas led them down the hall and turned into the living room. More bodies. Billy waved his hand to the right, and Jonas looped around, clearing the kitchen and the dining room before reentering on the far side of the living room. “I’ve got one!” he told Billy.

There was a teenage boy hiding behind the couch. Jonas gestured with the muzzle of his weapon, and the kid slowly rose to his knees with his hands in the air. Tears streaked his face, and there was a dark patch on his jeans where he’d wet himself.

“I’ve got you, Jonas. Cuff him,” Billy said, yanking the couch to the side before raising his weapon again.

Jonas slung his weapon behind him and pulled a pair of flex cuffs from his belt. The Agency versions had a thin, silver wire running through the plastic. Jonas pushed the kid back down to the ground put one knee on the kid’s shoulder, the other on his lower back. “Give me your other hand!”
Whump.
The blast was so weak he barely heard it.

The kid sobbed and did it. His body was shaking. He was so scared and upset, Jonas could hear his thoughts as if he was speaking out loud.
Why? Why are they doing this? Why are they hurting us? We cooperated.

“Who did you cooperate with?” Jonas asked.

Billy frowned. “Let’s go, Jonas.” He looked over his shoulder.

“Just a second.”

“A second, nothing, kid! You don’t stop while clearing!” Billy said, his southern accent stronger than usual.

Jonas put his bare hand on the back of the kid’s neck.

Werewolves and vampires talking to his parents. Enforcers forcing the residents of the floor to give them a space to use. A tactical team, wearing the same clothes as Jonas and his team, moving from room to room, killing everyone.
We cooperated with the Agency. Why…

Jonas withdrew his hand and shuddered. “Bravo team, cease fire.”

“What?” Frank said in his earpiece.

“Just… stop shooting. I need to check something.”

Two shifts put him in the main hallway. He ran past the elevators to the far left apartment. The door was open. As he stepped into the living room, a shotgun blast caught him in the shoulder. He winced, then shifted next to the woman propped up against the wall.

“No!” she screamed, weakly trying to bring the shotgun around. Her legs slid in blood as she tried to push herself away.

“Shh, shh shh shh shh,” he said, putting her to sleep with a hand on her cheek. There was blood all over her hands, and her stomach was a mess.
She’s a werewolf,
he told himself.
She might live.
He tried not to think about how black the veins on the right side of her neck were.

The ward was in the middle of the living room, just a simple, wired skull in the middle of a white, circular symbol painted on the floor. He couldn’t see the magic around it, for some reason, but he recognized it from the fight under the Agency. Holding his bloody left arm, he smashed the skull with his boot.

His eyes widened as he regained his connection to Madoc, and saw what had happened on the 12th floor.

♘

“Sir? Mr. Black?”

Jonas looked up to see one of the Agency medics. “How is she?”

“I’m sorry, sir. She died on the way down - silver poisoning - but I’d like to take a look at that shoulder.”

“It’s fine,” he said, standing. He picked his rifle up and headed for the van.

♘

“Hey, kid, you okay?” Frank said.

Jonas blinked, looking up from turning Madoc’s phylactery in his hands. The past few hours had been a blur. He’d turned his weapons into the armory, his arm and shoulder were wrapped in fresh bandages after he got the buckshot dug out of him… he was sitting on the bench in the locker room with nothing but a towel around his waist, and everyone but Frank was already gone. “I’m fine, Frank. Just exhausted.”

Frank leaned back against the lockers and crossed his arms. “Yeah, about that. It was a good shoot, bad kill, kid. It happens, and it sucks, but we did the best we could with the information we had.”

Jonas let the pendant hang from his neck. “I know that, Frank. Besides, we only killed five people. They killed over forty. We did the best we could.” He couldn’t see lines of magic around the pendant, or any kind of magic for that matter. He wondered if he’d broken something or if it was psychological, like the guilt had taken the magic away from him. He looked at his hand and snapped his fingers. Nothing happened.

“Anyway, the boys and I - Carlyle and Thompson too - we’re going to go grab breakfast at the diner around the corner before everyone heads home. It’d be good if you came; it’d let them know they didn’t do anything wrong, since you’re the senior man and all.”

Jonas looked at Frank and searched his eyes. “Yeah, I suppose that’s the least I could do for them.”

“Good. I’ll wait for you in the lobby; we can meet them there.”

“Okay.”

Frank nodded, then headed for the door.

“Hey, Frank?” Jonas said.

“Yeah, kid?”

“Thanks.”

Frank winked at him. “Sure thing.”

♘

Jonas zipped his jacket as he stepped out of the elevator, then pulled on his beanie. He didn’t feel like burning blood to stay warm. Mostly, he just wanted to have a normal breakfast and go to sleep before the debriefing that evening.

“Good morning, Mr. Black,” one of the security guards said.

“Good morning,” Jonas answered. He couldn’t decide if there was anything different about how the guard looked at him. He didn’t really want to know.

Frank opened the door for him and they walked south. He scratched his cheek and neck, then rubbed his hands. It was 8:15 a.m.; traffic flowed smoothly, stores were just starting to open, and a trickle of office workers were headed to their offices. The sun was still low enough only the tops of the taller buildings were lit on their eastern faces.

They turned the corner and Jonas’ legs gave out. His head bounced against the pavement. Everything had gone dark, but it felt like Gamil-Sin’s memory of the volcano. He opened his mouth to scream.

Hands grabbed him. He fought back and was punched in the face for his trouble.

“Dammit, kid, stop struggling!” someone said.

He panicked. He tried to shift away from the flames. Something popped, then another two fast punches landed on his cheek and jaw. He heard a sound like he was being dragged across sandpaper and broken glass, and that was what it felt like.

Shouts. More hands, tearing him apart. He passed out.

CHAPTER 24

Jonas leaned against the oak, watching the occasional green leaf fall twirling through the filtered sunlight to the forest floor. He could smell fertile soil, moss, hear the crackle of beasts moving through the underbrush, the rustle of branches in the wind, and all was well with the world.

He knew he was in the woods of King’s Point in the late summer, though he’d never seen them during that time of year. He could see why the Macreadys loved it; it was the perfect place to raise a pack. If he closed his eyes, he could hear Mitchell’s Creek, and footsteps.