“How the fuck did he know we were coming?” I said.
“Let’s figure that out once we get the hell out of here,” Shadi said.
Morales punched the comm button on his vest. As soon as he finished filling in the commanders at the other end, shouted curses crackled into all of our ears.
“Goddamn it, Morales. Get your team out of there, STAT.”
“Yes, sir,” he said. I was glad he didn’t argue. Lord only knew what other surprises Bane had stashed in those tunnels for us. We exited the room and gathered on the old platform to regroup.
But before we made it more than twenty feet, high-pitched howls shattered the silence. It was the kind of sound that made you believe in the existence of the devil. It was not the clicking sounds of Sentinels. It was the howls of Gray Wolf freaks. A lot of them, too, judging by the echoes.
My courage shriveled inside my skin. I could practically see the hackles rise on the back of Morales’s neck. “What the fuck?” His tone wasn’t frightened so much as pissed off.
In the silence, Shadi cocked her assault rifle with an ominous metallic crack. A smile spread across her dark face and for a moment I wondered whether the addicts were the ones who should worry.
I’d learned from experience that Gray Wolf users enjoyed human flesh, but they also fed off fear. They sipped it from the air like a fine wine, savoring the taste of terror. I couldn’t count how many of them were howling from the tunnels. Hell, I couldn’t even tell which tunnels they were coming from. But I knew we were outnumbered.
Morales shot me a look as he removed a second weapon from his hip holster. I didn’t bother telling him that Mundane bullets were as effective on a pack of blood fiends as a pellet gun was against a herd of bulls. I trusted that he was smart enough to heed my warning about playing this carefully. In truth, my heart had started doing a tap dance against my ribs the minute I heard the first howl.
“Prospero?” Mez this time. He sounded less sure of himself than the other two, but I guess that was to be expected from someone who spent most of his time tinkering with beakers.
“Stay calm. They’re trying to make us run.” Wolves loved to play chase. “Hold your ground and they’ll eventually come to us.”
The howling went on for what felt like hours. There’s this weird effect after you listen to feral beasts snarl at you long enough. At first it’s easy to remind yourself that it’s a trick, a ruse to scare you. But after a while, with the stink of shit and blood and the darkness and the shrill sound of their prey calls, it’s easy to forget to be brave.
Despite my sweaty palms and the nagging stab at the base of my skull urging me to freak the fuck out, I planted my feet and focused on breathing slowly through my mouth. I could practically feel Morales’s heart pounding against the walls. A fine sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead and his jaw clenched even as he hunkered into his fighting stance.
Finally, the menacing howls got too close and the first shadows moved into my line of sight. They were technically human, in that they had two arms, two legs, one head, etc. But the minute the potion hooked its claws in them it transformed the appendages—elongated them, curled them, sharpened them. Fingers had become claws with long, yellowed nails caked with blood. Lips curled back to reveal canines, like daggers in the mouth. Ears grew and morphed into the highly advanced listening tubes of a predator. Backs bent to make running on all fours an option—the sound of claws scuttling against concrete was almost as spine-tingling as the howls. But what made my skin prickle were the glittering shards of yellow slashing through the darkness.
When I’d faced Harkins I learned firsthand how strong Gray Wolf made an addict. Now my team faced a whole pack of them.
“How many potion bombs do we have?” Morales asked.
“A few, but they’re too close.” Mez shook his head. “We can’t risk one hitting us, too. I do have two knockout potions, though.”
“Two won’t get us very far.” Morales punched a new cartridge into his rifle. “We shoot to kill.”
Several more howls echoed from the darkness. My heart slammed against my ribs. One second we were surrounded by shadows and the stench of garbage. The next a group of monsters with fangs and claws and yellow eyes emerged from the dark like beasts straight out of hell.
They came at us hard. Chaos in motion. Leaping up off the tracks as if they’d been catapulted. We barely had time to point our weapons before the first wave attacked.
One landed almost on top of me. He came at me snarling, but my Glock was hot for action. The bullet ripped a path through his eye socket and made itself at home in his brain. His momentum carried him forward. Slammed me back against the concrete wall. The last gasp of breath escaped his mouth with the scent of blood and rot.
He collapsed to the ground in a twitching heap. But before I could catch my breath, three more monsters replaced him.
I shot one in the face. Pivoted. Used my right forearm to ward off the snapping teeth of another. With my free hand, I removed the salt flare from my left side. Slammed it up under the asshole’s chin and fired. The surface of his face exfoliated into one large wound. His screams pierced my eardrums and crawled inside my chest. I needed to finish him, but before I could, two strong hands grabbed my arms from behind.
I didn’t have to think about my next move. On autopilot, I slammed my head back and punched my heel down into the soft instep of my attacker. The hands didn’t ease up and no yelps of pain escaped him. But my scalp stung as if I’d hit a couple of teeth, so I knew I’d clocked him good.
I threw my weight forward, going limp. Slid out of his arms and swiveled so I landed on my back. The instant I made contact with the floor, I pulled the trigger. The bullet ripped through his chest, just to the left of his breastbone. The fiend shrieked in rage and lunged toward me. The second bullet finally brought him down after it tore through his esophagus. His weight landed on top of me like a sack of anvils. I kicked him off me and rolled.
Other gunshots cracked off the walls and pounded against my eardrums. I squinted through the dim light and the smoke to take stock. Morales and Shadi were fighting back-to-back, picking off any wolves who even looked in their direction. I could see Mez, but occasionally the air sizzled with the static of spent magic from one of his party favors.
It was hard to get a head count through the chaos, but I managed to identify at least a dozen deformed shapes outlined in the shadows. The potion patch had worn off, but my adrenaline was pounding like lightning through my veins.