Blue Howl (Blue Wolf Book 3) Read online

  Blue Howl

  Blue Wolf Book 3

  Brad Magnarella

  © 2018

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved.

  Cover by Orina Kafe

  Table of Contents

  The Blue Wolf Series

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

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  Croftverse Catalog

  Acknowledgments

  The Blue Wolf Series

  BLUE CURSE

  BLUE SHADOW

  BLUE HOWL

  *MORE TO COME*

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  1

  I stood on a high mountain ridge and scanned the terrain. Beneath an enormous moon, a misty blue landscape of dense forests stretched away to distant ranges, all wild, all mine.

  I sniffed the chill air. When the wind shifted, the scent hit my nostrils again. Miles below, something large was moving through a meadow. My vibrating senses sharpened toward the source. I could smell the wet hair and mud-caked hooves, could hear the plodding footfalls, could feel the blood thickening with the coming winter. Above my tightening stomach, my heart beat strong and fast. I reared back my head and released a booming howl.

  The hunt was on.

  As my call echoed throughout the valley, a haunting chorus came back. My pack. I led the charge down the mountain in powerful bounds. Scree and chunks of earth flew from my clawed feet. Soon trees flashed past. The rest of the pack converged in my wake, forming a mass of panting, hungry predators.

  In the valley, I broke into a meadow bisected by a slow, winding river. Our prey, a bull moose, had waded into the water, and now craned its neck. An enormous rack framed its startled face. For an instant, I saw my pack as the moose did: a range of gold eyes glinting through the trees, masses of blue hair and hulking muscles taking shape around them.

  The moose turned and thrashed for the far shore. I lowered my head and sped my pace.

  Ice-cold water broke around me as I plunged into the river. The wolves at my back barked in excitement. The moose reached the shore and struggled from the water. In three great lunges I was across and burying my teeth into its flank. Blood filled my mouth in an intoxicating rush. The moose let out a hoarse scream and swung its rack around, but the rest of the pack had arrived to pile on.

  I released the moose’s flank and went for its neck. With a crunching bite and tear, the hunt ended. Wolves leapt away as the massive animal toppled onto its side, the rack coming to a ponderous rest. I warned the excited pack back with snarls before moving in for my meal. The moose’s adrenaline-laced flesh filled my stomach and hit my blood like a dose of high-octane fuel.

  When I reached the beast’s engorged heart, I turned in search of my mate. She should have been beside me, sharing the meal. From a ring five feet away, the wolves peered back at me with eager eyes.

  Where is she? I demanded through our connection.

  The wolves looked at one another and parted. I turned back to the moose, seized the heart in my teeth, and twisted until the giant mass of muscle came free from the chest. The prize.

  I turned to present it to my mate.

  Only my mate wasn’t a wolf. She stood before the pack, one hand hiding the bare fold between her legs, the other arm shielding her breasts. Her pale frame shivered in the moonlight. She looked from the heart to my face with dark, fearful eyes. A dazed understanding seemed to take hold.

  “Jason?” she whispered.

  In the corner of my animal mind, something kicked to life.

  Daniela?

  I sat bolt upright in bed, harsh breaths flaring my nostrils. The dream again, the same damned one I’d been having for the past two weeks. But it wasn’t my dream. I was dreaming for the Blue Wolf, only returning to myself at the very end when Daniela appeared.

  My bed creaked as I swung my large legs off the side. The digital clock on my nightstand read 3:10 a.m. I ran a taloned hand between my peaked ears and wiped my muzzle.

  The dreams had begun with the arrival of fall, when cold air began blowing down from the mountains at night, buffeting our desert compound. That seemed to stir something in the Blue Wolf, ancient memories of hunting the mountain ranges of Waristan, maybe.

  That wouldn’t explain the moose, though, which probably had more to do with the images I’d been studying—satellite photos of a town in Canada where the Legion team could be sent any day.

  Still excited from the dream hunt, and the fear that Daniela had learned my secret, my heart thudded in my chest. Knowing I wasn’t going to get any more sleep, I pulled on a pair of camo and left my suite. The building was dead silent as I made my way down the main corridor, but when I stepped into the chill desert night, I caught a familiar scent. At the end of the row of chairs in front of the barracks, I found our program manager bundled in a blanket.

  “What are you doing up?” I grunted.

  Moonlight winked from Sarah McKinnon’s glasses as she turned to face me. If my sudden appearance startled her, it didn’t show on her flat expression.

  “I woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep,” she replied in her clipped voice.

  “Same here.” I pulled a chair from the line and sat angled toward her. Following our return from Mexico about two months before, I had been hoping I would see a more human side of her. We’d been through a lot that mission: me sparing her from a vampire attack, her keeping Director Beam at bay so the rest of the team and I could complete the mission. She had even opened up about a zombie attack that had claimed her parents when she was a girl. But here at the training compound, her walls had gone back up. Our heated disagreements over whether Olaf Kowalski was living or nonliving probably hadn’t helped.

  She looked at me another moment before returning her gaze to the distant mountains. A large moon stood above them, recalling my dream. Not my dream, I reminded myself, forcing it back down.

  “Any update on the Canada job?” I asked, knowing she’d been in recent contact with Director Beam. Centurion’s computers had picked up a pattern of attacks that summer suggestive of werewolves. We were told to have the Legion team ready, but we’d heard almost nothing since then.

  Sarah shook her head. “Centurion reps are still dealing with the mayor of the affected town. He’s insisting he can handle the problem locally. It sounds like he’s in denial.”

  Or unable to afford Centurion’s price tag, I thought bitterly.

  “I have an exercise planned for tomorrow, just in case,” I said. “I’d like to run it at night, so why don’t we shift the lectures to the morning.”

  Sarah nodded without comment. I stood and strode several paces from the barracks, my clawed feet digging into sand. The hard-packed layer underneath was still warm from the day’s heat. Though I paced in a slow circle, I remained tense. My lupine muscles wanted to chase something, my teeth to rend flesh. I needed to g
et the dream out of my system.

  “Think I’m gonna take a few laps around the perimeter.”

  “Why are you so concerned about Olaf?” Sarah asked suddenly.

  I stopped and turned. I was standing in almost the exact spot where I’d asked Olaf why he had joined us on the final push in El Rosario. When he teared up, I suspected he was more living than Centurion was letting on.

  Maybe because the question had taken me by surprise, my answer emerged without thought. “Because I can’t stand the idea of someone being trapped inside something he’s not.”

  I waited for Sarah to respond, but she only seemed to take in what I’d said.

  I fell to my hands and bounded away.

  2

  The following evening, I called my teammates together in the armory. Except for Takara, dressed in ninja leathers, everyone was outfitted in Centurion’s patented digital camo and tactical vests. Olaf plodded up with a large MP88 in his grip and stood beside Takara and Sarah. I waved over the team’s tech wiz, Rusty, and our magic-user, Yoofi, who were making last-minute adjustments to their gear. They hurried toward us with apologies and took their places among the others.

  “All right,” I said. “Tonight’s exercise will be a little different. One, we won’t be facing off against each other. And two, we’ll be using live ammo.” I jabbed a thumb toward the mock town that was our battle simulation area. “There are six creatures out there from Yoofi’s realm. The second Yoofi sets them free, they’ll be coming after us.”

  “Creatures?” Rusty cut in. “As in big, hungry things?”

  “Very much so,” Yoofi answered proudly. Instead of a pack, the Congolese priest wore a long brown coat to hold his many flasks and cigars, as well as a wooden idol to Dabu. It was by his god’s consent we’d been able to borrow the creatures in the first place. I had consulted Prof Croft to ensure we could bring them into our plane without causing problems. With some well-placed wards—or lingos, as Yoofi called them—we were good to go.

  “Why don’t you brief the team on what they are,” I said to Yoofi.

  “Yes, the beasts are called ekalamanga. That means death dogs.” He giggled for no apparent reason, which was something I’d gotten used to. “They have two heads and manes like the lions. Dabu uses them as watchdogs in his underworld. Ooh, very mean. You should see the way they look at me when I am down there. Like they want to make a meal of Yoofi.”

  “And be warned,”’ I said. “They’re a solid level above the zombie mutts we faced in El Rosario.”

  “Yes, very clever too,” Yoofi added. “They can move without a sound, so you do not hear them coming. And when they work in packs, they are most deadly. Yes, most deadly.”

  “Sound like werewolves,” Rusty muttered, scratching a mutton-chop sideburn.

  “Exactly the point,” I said. “Instead of silver-laced ammo, though, we’ll be packing salt.” I gestured toward the magazines I’d had him prepare and array across the tables. “Remember Sarah’s lecture on spectral creatures? That’s essentially the form the death dogs take up here. With enough salt exposure, they’ll disperse back to their realm. Questions?”

  “Yeah,” Rusty said. “If they’re so deadly, how does Dabu handle them.”

  “With a big staff,” Yoofi answered, holding up his. “Many of Dabu’s brothers and sisters are very jealous of Dabu. They want the underworld for themselves. Dabu knows this. But he also knows the gods do not want to face the ekalamanga, and he keeps thousands down there.”

  He giggled some more.

  “All right, we’ll be working in split teams of three,” I said. “Yoofi and Sarah, you’ll be with me. Takara will lead Olaf and Rusty.”

  Takara’s curtain of black hair glistened as she walked forward, picked up a mag, and slotted it into her M4. As Olaf began loading his MP88, I watched his eyes, but nothing moved inside them.

  Rusty joined Takara and Olaf in a sulk. “Team Personality,” he muttered.

  “The objective is to clear the simulation area of the threat,” I said. “Remember what we’ve been practicing and try not to get bit.”

  Rusty’s helmeted head whipped around to face me. “Why? What’ll happen?”

  “It’ll hurt like hell.”

  “Ready?” I asked my split team. In my enhanced vision, Sarah and Yoofi seemed to glow. Slivers of light edged their equipment and night vision oculars. Sarah clutched her M4 and nodded while Yoofi moved his bladed staff to one hand to give me an enthusiastic thumbs up.

  “Team One ready,” I broadcast.

  “Team Two ready,” came Takara’s voice from inside my earpiece.

  “All right,” I said. “Yoofi’s going to set the dogs free in three … two … one …” I pointed at him.

  He raised his staff and spoke an incantation. My insides turned squeamish as the obsidian blade warped the surrounding air. When Yoofi spoke a final word, energy pulsed out. It rippled across the mock town to where the death dogs were being held in the town square. I half expected to hear a riot of barking, but the released creatures were eerily silent.

  When I cocked an eyebrow at Yoofi, he nodded.

  “They’re out,” I radioed. “Commence exercise.”

  I led with my MP88’s three barrels, one each for the assault rifle, grenade launcher, and flamethrower. Sarah and Yoofi flanked me. Across the mock town I could hear Olaf’s plodding footfalls and Rusty’s battle rattle. Nothing from Takara, of course. And nothing from the dogs. With the backdraft from Dabu’s realm wafting around us—a mixture of fermented alcohol and stale cigar smoke—my nose wasn’t picking them up either.

  As we advanced down the dusty lane, I scanned the surrounding buildings, my hairs prickling with the anticipation of conflict. I didn’t have to wait long. I felt them before I heard them.

  “Your six!” I shouted, wheeling.

  Two of the death dogs had stalked around behind us and now bore down on Sarah and Yoofi. Tongues lolled from the two-headed beast’s slavering mouths. Manes of stringy black hair streamed from their ragged ears. Their rangy builds lent the dogs speed, while their large paws and fang-crammed jaws endowed them with lethality.

  I forced myself to remain back, wanting to see how my teammates responded.

  Gunfire exploded from Sarah’s M4, while the air around Yoofi’s blade swirled with fresh magic. Salt rounds stitched a line across one of the dog’s twin faces and blew out an eye. With a pained yelp, the dog veered away and disappeared down a side lane.

  Yoofi shouted something in Congolese. A spiraling black bolt discharged from his staff and landed in front of the other dog. The dog reared from the explosion of sand and smoke. Sarah sighted on the creature and released another burst. The dog howled with both heads as salt rounds tore open its side. It crumpled to the ground, black smoke billowing through its ribs. The dog was coming apart. Sarah unloaded more rounds until the wind whisked away what remained of the dog’s form, leaving a scattering of black ashes.

  The entire encounter had lasted mere seconds.

  “Well done,” I said. But instinct told me the two hadn’t arrived alone.

  I peered up just as another death dog jumped down from the rooftop above me. I started to bring my MP88 into firing position, then dropped it onto its sling. The wolf in me wanted to brawl.

  I shot a fist toward the incoming faces. My knuckles cracked across one set of jaws and then the other, knocking the creature off course. It crashed down beside me and scrambled to its feet. I noticed Sarah and Yoofi watching us, weapons readied, looking for an opening.

  “Perimeter security,” I growled. “I’ve got this one.”

  They turned and monitored the lanes and buildings around me. Across the town, Rusty shouted. Bursts of gunfire followed. It sounded like Team Two had met the enemy as well. I trained my attention on my opponent. Two sets of fiery orange eyes glared at me above muzzles with lips curled back to show their fangs. A lion-like tail flicked between the creature’s bony haunches. Every time a drop of saliva
struck the ground, steam hissed up.

  “C’mon, buddy,” I said. “Make your move.”

  When the dog sprang at my chest, my hands swallowed its front paws and twisted so the dog was beneath me. We landed hard. Slamming a forearm into its right head, I took its other neck in my jaws and bit down. A foul taste of death and ash filled my mouth. The dog choked on a savage bark as I tore out its throat. I did the same to its other head and rose, my heart slamming with the thrill of domination.

  Smoke billowed from the dog’s wounds, but I could see the creature reconstituting itself. I brought my MP88 around and filled the beast with salt rounds until it came apart for good. When I looked over, I caught Yoofi peering back at me with saucer-round eyes. He looked away quickly.

  I swore at myself for going full beast in a team exercise. It wasn’t befitting a captain and set a poor example for the others. The Blue Wolf had his place, but I needed to command as Jason Wolfe.

  Across the compound, the shouts and gunfire tapered off.

  “Two eliminated here,” I radioed. “How are you doing?”

  “Three eliminated,” Takara answered, a note of haughtiness in her voice. Though we had gotten past the hostility that had colored our first weeks together, Takara continued to act like we were in competition. I wasn’t sure how much came from the US bombing of Hiroshima, her hometown, and how much from an innate need to win. The second wasn’t a bad attribute to have in a teammate—as long as she didn’t backslide into insubordination again.

  “All right, so one left,” I said. “We had brief engagement, but it escaped east. Let’s perform a sweep like we practiced. Takara and I will access the rooftops and coordinate movement.”

  “Wouldn’t a drone be easier?” Rusty asked. “One I could be manning?”

  “We can’t always depend on having a drone overhead.”

  “Yeah, well, no one told me these things were going to have slobber hot enough to boil a damned egg.” Rusty was used to working in an office off the armory, managing anything with a circuit board, including the commo equipment and drones. But increasingly I’d been putting him through the same drills and exercises as the others so he could step in if needed.