Night Season

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Cullen looked up at the first shout. He got a good whiff about the same time. Not that he recognized the scent, but it said "carnivore" loudly.

Brooks was lucid but clammy. Cynna had done right to wrap him in her coat—shock was a real danger, given the man's physical fragility. Cullen couldn't tell about the tibia, but one glance confirmed that Brooks's wrist was broken—an obvious radial fracture needing immediate reduction and maybe surgery, judging by the visible misalignment. Only surgery wasn't among their options.

Neither was even crude bonesetting, not yet. "Sorry," Cullen told his patient, and slid his amis beneath the leather and the man, rising with Brooks in his arms like an oversize infant.

McClosky grabbed Cullen's arm. "What are you doing?"

Cullen jerked free. "Run, fool!"

Cullen followed his own advice. His knee hadn't finished mending, and his foot was still weak. He was slow. He lurched more than ran, but the group clustered around the presidential assistant wasn't far. His burden was still conscious when Cullen knelt and unloaded him as gently as possible beside the Wright woman.

Cynna and the rest were still sprinting toward them. McClosky puffed up just as Steve snapped, "What's our target? And where?"

"That way," Cullen said, nodding at the forest. "And I don't know. You—Tash—what are these—"

"Shit, shit, shit!" Gan piped, shifting from foot to foot, eyes wide and bright with fear. "Shit, shit, shit!"

Tash spoke calmly, her sword ready, facing the forest. "Dondredii aren't true sentients, but they have a rough group intelligence. Wen thinks this pack numbers twenty or twenty-five. We have a chance. You are injured?"

"Knee's banged up. It'll heal, but hasn't yet. You?"

"Not significantly." She looked at Steve. "Do you have more bullets for that gun you shot me with?"

"Eight rounds left in this clip, and seven more clips."

Seven. Good God. Cullen spared a moment to bless Steve for being such a paranoid gun freak.

"Clips?" Tash repeated.

"Lots more bullets," Cullen explained, "Do dondredii burn?"

"Shit!" Gan cried loudly.

They poured out of the forest maybe a hundred and twenty yards away. They ran with a swinging gait halfway between ape and hyena, using their upper limbs as a second set of legs, and they smelled like spoiled meat. They made no cries, no sound at all, as they ran.

Instinct struck, quick and brutal. Change. I have to Change, to meet the enemy armed with teeth and speed—

Cynna skidded into place beside Cullen, beating Wen and the gnome by a few paces. "Holy shit. Give me my bag, man." But she didn't wait for it to be handed over, grabbing the bag as Wen arrived and dumped the gnome on the ground beside Brooks.

A hundred yards and coming fast. They looked like zombie apes—pale, necrotic skin, grossly heavy upper bodies, and the flat faces of apes or men.

Wen stretched out a hand. Tash slapped a knife into it. "Across from me," the big woman told him, adding something in her own tongue before switching back to English. "Wen will try to disrupt their group mind, but working alone, he may not succeed. They'll surround us before attacking. Those with weapons or killing magic will form a circle around the rest."

"What do I do?" Panic made McClosky's voice high and shrill. "I don't have a weapon."

Ruben spoke from the ground, his voice thin but clear. "You will move to the center of the circle and attempt to keep Ms. Wright alive. Agents Timms and Weaver, take direction from Tash."

"Cynna Weaver," Tash said, "can you kill?"

"Yeah, I'm not as good as Timms, but I can shoot something that wants to eat me when it's close enough." Cynna smelled scared. She sounded and looked ready, though, had her weapon out and steady.

"You will take my right. Sorcerer, what—"

"I want a gun," Gan said, hopping in place. "I really, really want a gun."

Eighty yards. Long, matted hair on their heads. None elsewhere, not even around the genitals. Some were female. That didn't matter. He couldn't let it matter.

"Do they burn?" Cullen asked again.

"Yes. You throw fire? Good. Stand between Wen and Cynna Weaver. Closer. Stand closer to each other. I need room for my sword. Yes."

Cullen's heart thudded against his ribs. He felt sick. He wanted to thrust Cynna into the middle of the circle. No, he told himself fiercely. No. She has a gun. She can use it. The more of them we kill, the safer she'll be. But it was hard, damned hard, to let her take her place with the protectors instead of the protected.

How the hell did Rule deal with this?

Sixty yards.

Tash said, "When in group mind, they ignore pain. Unless Wen can break them from the group mind, we must kill them to stop them."

Cullen could see their gaping mouths and the sharp, carnivore's teeth lining them. "My range is about twenty yards. Steve?"

"Fifty yards for the maximum stopping power." Normally Steve was a mercurial type—hot-tempered, driven, demon-ridden. He was calm now, as relaxed as Cullen had ever seen him. Nothing like the prospect of shooting monsters to settle a man down. "I'm waiting for forty yards, though, given the poor light."

"I don't want to get killed," Gan wailed. "I don't have much soul yet. I might be just dead if I die."

Wen shoved the little not-yet-gnome into the center of their circle. "Quiet." He turned to Cynna. "Shoot their heads, if you can. It will help me interfere with the group mind."

"I'm not good enough for head shots," Cynna said.

"I am," Steve said happily. He brought up his right arm, supported it with his left, and started firing.

The gun's blast shocked Cullen's ears, though the rest of him was prepared. Steve fired methodically. One after another, the creatures stopped, looking surprised as bullets tore out the backs of theirs skulls along with the blood and brains. Cullen stood with his right arm extended, most of his mind focused on the link between himself and the diamond in his ring. He'd draw on it, but wouldn't use mage fire, not for this—too hard to control, too many targets. He'd drain the stone too fast.

Part of him was amazed. He'd known Steve was supposed to be a good shot, but the little bastard didn't miss. Not once.

The ones Steve didn't kill were spreading out. Were there only twenty of them? Looked more like thirty. And they were getting close—

"Now, sorcerer," Tash said.

There, Cullen told Fire, pointing at the closest one. Burn that. Power leaped through him in a glad rash. The beast burst into flames.

So did the next one. He heard Cynna fire her gun, heard Steve slap a new magazine in his gun, and he kept pointing. Burn. Burn.

The second one he'd blasted wasn't dead yet. It was crawling toward them. Flames danced along the creature's blackened body. It had no face left, no hands, but crawled on its elbows and knees, and it was getting close. Cullen swallowed and pointed again—

Cynna's gun barked. The creature flopped onto its stomach and lay still, reeking of burnt flesh.

Brooks spoke firmly, his voice clear enough in spite of interruptions by the roar of Steve's gun. "Mr. Seabourne, concentr—(gun blast)—farther away. The others will (gun blast) closer."

Right. He needed to let Wen or Cynna kill any who got too close, or they'd have a flaming body stagger or crawl in among them. He wasn't used to fighting as a team. He wasn't used to trusting… Never mind. That one. Fire, go there.

Fifteen yards away, another beast burst into flame. Cullen pointed again. Another went up. And another. But Fire answered sluggishly the next time. Cullen's eyes stung, and he blinked sweat from them. Why was he sweating? Must have too much heat built up. Better burn another one, get rid of the heat. His diamond wasn't depleted. He could do this. Had to do this, couldn't let them get close to Cynna… but where was a target?

There. He saw one. It was running away. As his arm swung automatically to point it out to Fire, he swayed, losing his focus. Damn! Have to… what was that? Something large leaped out of the forest to take down his prey. It looked like… he blinked, trying to focus.

"Hey." Cynna's arm came around him. "You can stop now. They're mostly dead, except for a few that want to get away at least as bad as we want them to leave."

"You and the shooter left me little enough to deal with," came Tash's voice from behind him. She might have been disappointed. "Wen broke the group mind when they grew few enough."

Cullen blinked again and focused on Cynna's face. He didn't see any blood. "You're okay, then. Good." He nodded, frowned, and added, "Better let go now." And passed out.