Saturday, July 19, 1997, 1:02 pm

San Antonio, Texas

Wagner was swamped from the moment he got back into the office, barely sitting down before the flood began. It didn’t matter that it was Saturday because everyone was working overtime.

Everyone had been coming in on Saturdays for months, and a six day work week was becoming normal for just about everyone in the FBI.

If Wagner despised his hours, he could at least take comfort in the knowledge that none of his superiors were lounging on the weekends either.

The upper echelons were working around the clock in Washington to push for a larger budget, allowing them to hire and train more agents.

Damien Greenfield was at least helping in this regard. Only two days before, the president had delivered a brief speech encouraging the senate to approve his budget to help shore up national security.

Wagner snorted with mocking disdain. The president who pushed for better security standards had also been exploiting holes in the system for most of his political career. But more bold was his talent for pointing out the holes to declare, “Someone could slip through that hole and attack us!”

The cunning daemon summmoner had positioned himself to become the lieutenant governor of Arizona, and then one of his schemes backfiring still worked out in his favor. The dispersal of a halfling-specific virus had killed hundreds and maimed hundreds more.

The virus had been sent out mixed with the state’s supply of flu vaccines. At the time, Damien had no clue of the size of the halfling population.

If Wagner understood the numbers from Cora Collins, Damien’s miscalculation had led to the halflings in Arizona being cut to a handful of refugees. The halflings had become an endangered species in the state over the course of a week, and the biological attack was nothing short of genocide.

But the only evidence he had was the testimony of a few people. None were willing to come forward and expose themselves to the humans, lest the rest of their families be exposed and put at risk.

The devastating attack allowed Damien to push the governor to resign. From there, he had moved on to campaign for the presidential election, and his victory had given him total control to build an army.

But what Damien hadn’t made clear to the public was the true purpose of his plans. Because of his contact with Jobe and Wendy Stoffel, Wagner knew more than most people did, but he still only had a few details.

The truth was, Damien needed to build an army to fight against an invasion from the daemonic plane, Heil. He’d unwittingly set the plans for the invasion in motion himself by summoning a daemon to act as his spy.

Wagner thought, It’s not that he’s lucky. He’s got people helping him spin every mistake into a talking point. When the time comes to announce the truth, he’ll become a hero because he never has to mention that he started this mess himself.

Wagner hated doing nothing to stop Damien, but the supervisor who formerly occupied his office, Deborah Pierce, had been killed by a sniper after she’d sent Gavin on an investigation of the late Eric Richter. Wagner had to be careful, or he would end up being shot by a sniper too.

Damien’s men had already made three attempts on his life, but after a car bombing had been thwarted, Wagner ordered everyone to lay low and let the cases die quietly.

The attempts on his life ended, and the message had come across loud and clear: Keep your mouth shut, and you’ll be allowed to live.

Wagner kept his mouth shut, and he tried to assist his people on cases that they had a chance of solving.

Damien’s plans included larger budgets for the investigative branches, and Wagner needed more people and more resources if he ever wanted to get ahead of the increasing caseloads. The promise of more backup was like an added bribe to him, another reason to pipe down for the time being.

But.

As soon as the world had accepted the truth of the daemonic invasion, Wagner planned to call up Cora and Wendy. He would use whatever form of persuasion he had to in order to convince them to testify against Damien, and then he would have all the evidence he needed to arrest Damien for his crimes against halflings, and against humanity.

It was a good plan, he thought, and it would just require sitting tight and waiting for the right time to bring the cases back up.

Until then, Wagner had to juggle more than he was trained to handle and pray that nobody shot him.

Piece of cake.

Wagner was jolted from his thoughts when someone rapped on the door. The agents were already walking in before he’d called them in, and from their anxious expressions, he guessed that their problems couldn’t wait. He waved them to the seats in front of his desk, giving the agents and their case his undivided attention.

The next two hours blurred with too many similar briefings. Several times, it seemed as if someone had just left his office before someone else arrived to make a report.

For most of the afternoon, he was unable to devote any time to Gavin and Jobe. It wasn’t until Norman stepped into his office that he could bring his thoughts back to their problems.

The lab technician’s face gave Wagner an answer before Norman spoke. His expression was confounded, and his wide shoulders were slouched, like he was conceding defeat.

Norman dropped into the chair, as usual not bothering with a greeting before he started detailing his problems. “The computers don’t have any matching samples. We’ve got nothing even remotely close.”

“What about the metal samples from the collar?”

“It’s a mixture of silver, tin, and something else.” Norman made a frustrated laugh. “Every time, the computer keeps coming up with ‘unknown,’ or, ‘no match’ for answers.”

Wagner looked down at his phone when it rang. He wasn’t sure who’d decided to call, but he had a bad feeling he didn’t want to know either way. He picked up the phone. “This is Wagner.”

“He’s hunting outside of Boerne.”

Wagner wanted to berate the berserker for calling the office. But instead, he swallowed down his anger. Exploding in front of Norman would be a mistake, and Wagner’s phone line was still tapped.

Swallowing back his admonishment, Wagner asked, “He’s on the news?”

“Yeah. Sometime last night, he crashed into a house and killed an elderly couple and their dog. There’s some good news. I don’t think he likes the taste of humans. The old man has a nasty bite wound, and his wife was stomped to death. Probably because she wouldn’t stop screaming. But the dog was picked clean.”

“Terrific.” Wagner rubbed his forehead. “Is there anything else?”

“Yeah. Two miles to the northwest, there’s a dead cow stripped to the bones, so I don’t think the dog was much more than a snack. Another four miles west, a farmer called in a report on an animal sleeping in his barn. The farmer is dead, and the deputy who reported to the scene is at the hospital, babbling about Bigfoot attacking him.”

Wagner looked up at Norman, his mouth compressed in a thin line while a conflict played out in his mind. “If I let you go, what do you plan to do first?”

“I’ll use Gavin to get into the hospital to talk to the deputy. We’ll have to recruit him fast. We don’t want him wandering off and making any new friends.”

“No,” Wagner said.

He suppressed a grimace as he considered the threat not as a curse, but as an infection that could be passed any number of ways.

“You’re just going to walk in and announce yourselves?”

“There’s no point in sneaking, boss,” the berserker said. His voice broke in growling laughter. “People are bound to notice me since I’m bright red and stacked like a brick bunker. But I’ll nod and try to keep my mouth shut. Gavin can wave his badge, and he can cover for me by claiming I’m a consultant. He’s already told that story before, and nobody questions us. So I think we can use the same story to get in and out without making a scene.”

Wagner nodded to himself, grateful that the berserker was trying to be discreet. “I want regular reports, and you’re not allowed to approach the animal unless you have my approval.”

“Paperwork is Gavin’s job, but I’ll let him know. We’ll keep our distance until you let go of our leashes.”

Wagner started to say that the berserker shouldn’t call the office, but the line clicked. He set down the phone and opened his mouth. He was still taking a breath to speak when the phone rang again.

“Gotta be kidding me,” he muttered as he picked the phone up. “This is Wagner.”

“Wagner, it’s Mark. I’m going to stop by your office tonight, so I’ll need you to stay late.” Mark Grissom, the regional supervisor paused. “That won’t be a problem for you, will it?”

“No, of course not,” Wagner said. “I have a few cases that need more attention, so I’ll call out to order something for dinner. Do you know what time you’ll expect to be in the office?”

“Possibly seven, though I might be later,” Mark said.

“May I ask what this is in relation to?”

“I’m afraid I’m in a hurry, so I’ll have to wait until I arrive to explain. I will tell you that you aren’t in trouble over anything.” Mark huffed, but Wagner wasn’t sure if it was a laugh or a sound made in irritation. “Does that help?”

“Yeah, it does, actually,” Wagner said. He was lying, but he sounded convincing. “Thanks, Mark. I’ll see you when you get in.”

He set down the phone and waved at Norman. “Wrap up everything and turn in your reports when you can. Move your people on to something else.”

“All right,” Norman said.

Under better circumstances, he might have asked for more time to study all of the samples. But the caseload in the labs was larger by an exponential factor then the files that Wagner had to sort through.

Their workload grew faster than the cases, since every case had many samples to send into the lab for a multitude of tests. The technicians had a constant backlog of work to dig into, and they were so crunched for time that satisfying curiosity had become a luxury.

As soon as Norman walked out of the office, someone else knocked on the door. Wagner held up his hand, shaking his head at the same time. “Whatever it is, go walk a lap and take a coffee break. I need fifteen minutes to breathe, all right?”

“Right.” The agent nodded and backed up, shutting the door behind herself.

Wagner dropped his head into his hands and rubbed his temples. His gaze wandered to the phone. The berserker called the office, and within seconds of that call, Mark was scrambling to make a meeting, probably with Damien.

He didn’t want to be paranoid about all of his superiors, but Mark had been the most helpful in covering up any cases involving the elites, Damien’s group of hand-picked moles. The timing of the call was too close for him to think anything else.

But the question was, what could they need to talk about so urgently if he wasn’t in trouble?

***

Saturday, 4:27 pm

Gavin’s shirt collar was too tight, and he had to open the top button. It didn’t make the air in the cab feel any less stifling, and the shirt was uncomfortable for the way his sleeves dug into his armpits.

He had no clue what was going on. He’d gone back to sleep after packing down a massive lunch, and the berserker woke him from a sound sleep by clapping as he shouted, “Road trip!”

He’d explained nothing while Gavin dressed, but his reason was that the cab had already arrived at the house to pick them up.

Once they were in the back seat, Gavin asked where they were going. The berserker shook his head, pointing to the driver to hint that it wasn’t the best time to talk.

The car pulled into a shopping center, but until it stopped at the curb in front of a car rental office, Gavin was clueless to their destination.

He got out of the cab, his hand drifting to his side, though he only felt a minor twinge of pain. He followed the berserker from the curb to the car rental office, and the pendant thumped his sternum with every step.

The clerk behind the counter raised his head, smiling politely when Gavin walked in behind the berserker. “Good afternoon.”

The berserker grinned and said, “Hi, I called to reserve a car for Gavin Lebowitz.”

The clerk nodded. “Oh, right, the Mustang.”

Gavin’s mouth opened, but he snapped it shut before he could ask, “The what?” Instead he nodded and said, “Yes, he reserved it for me. What do I need to sign?”

Gavin filled out the insurance forms and signed the lease contract. While the clerk went to fetch the keys, he glanced at the berserker. “I’m driving.”

“For now. And you’re welcome.”

Gavin let it go, forcing himself to smile when the clerk handed him the keys. The old man walked with them through the office to the back door, pointing out the bright red Mustang in the rear parking lot.

Starting the car, Gavin sat back and listened to the engine hum.

He said, “All right, we’re alone now. Please fill me in on your plan.”

“First, drive back to the house so we can pack weekend bags.”

Gavin backed out of the slot and pulled away from the shopping center while the berserker described his plan.

Gavin nodded his agreement, offering nothing to the discussion while he drove back to the house. He didn’t interrupt to ask questions, and when the berserker finished,  he wasn’t the least bit concerned about the road trip, or the case.

No matter what he did, his life as he knew it was over. His mind insisted on coming up with incessantly stupid questions like, What will I tell Stephanie? It was followed by another, How will I keep my job?

As if dating or keeping his job were the biggest problems he had. How could he live under such an awful curse?

The berserker said, “You could always munch a bullet.”

Gavin sighed. “Of all the questions I was thinking, why did you choose to answer that one?”

The berserker shook his head. “I wasn’t answering any question, just thinking out loud.” He glanced at Gavin. “I thought you’d gone mind numb, because I’m not getting anything from your thoughts.”

“No, I’m a full flurry of mental—” Gavin snapped his head around fast as recognition came to him. “You  can’t read me?”

“You started blocking me just a few minutes ago. The last I got was, ‘why me,’ and some other whiny shit.”

Gavin’s face bunched in a look of annoyance. “I never thought, ‘why me?’”

“Close enough.”

Gavin smirked, glancing over to see that the berserker was too.

He asked, “So who do you think will win?”

The berserker frowned, the confusion in his brown eyes fading before he offered a shrug. “It’s hard to say. You’ll have the claws and fangs working in your favor, and all I get is bigger muscles. I think it will depend on how much bigger you get when you go furball.”

He might have had more to say, but Gavin pulled into the driveway, and they both spotted the elf sitting on the porch.

Erick stood as the car drove up the long gravel path to the house. His black face was held in a look of awe, and even after Jobe and Gavin got out of the Mustang, his gaze was locked on the car.

Erick asked, “What is that?”

His voice rumbling in a chuckle, the berserker said, “That is a Mustang.”

Erick blinked, his expression becoming confused. “That no horse.”

Gavin snorted. “Where did you learn English?”

“I take lessons, in childhood. But…never use. English not useful at Lissand.”

“I’ll start packing,” the berserker said, already walking toward the house. “You can try to sort out what he’s saying.”

Erick asked, “You have collar?”

“I do,” Gavin said.

Erick stared at him with a muddled expression. “You keep?”

“Yes, I think I’ll need it. Are you sure you can’t make another?”

“I…to get more collars, I must return home. But I…I cannot say if I will return to Earth. If I go home, I become…prisoner?”

“You’ll be in trouble for bringing the orc here,” Gavin said.

“Yes.”

Gavin sighed, dropping his head. “Well, Erick, I don’t know what to tell you. You brought this mess here, and unless you return home, this is going to end in a lot of dead werebears.”

“Werekin.”

“It’s the same thing.”

“No, you no understand,” Erick said.

His tiny mouth tugged in a tight bow-shaped frown while he tried to find words to express himself. “All werekin cursed, become animals. But animal you become…” He trailed off, sighing in frustration while he tried to finish.

Gavin nodded. “I think I understand. Just because I got attacked by a bear, it doesn’t mean I’ll become a bear myself.”

“Yes,” Erick nodded, his face relaxing. “You become animal closest to your…your soul?”

Gavin cringed and asked, “You mean I’m going to become a weasel?”

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... I write dark fiction in a variety of genres. My blog contains my rants and rambles, and some short fiction that can only be found here. I can be pretty fucking offensive, so viewer discretion is advised.

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