Page 56 of Aleko
By the time the sailors in the aft cabin realized they were aboard it was too late. Sofia hit them with a hard spray of bullets and Howell tipped their bodies over the tail into theStrumwolke’swake. The team huddled into the cabin to take a breath. Brynn and Colwyn shifted, pulling on the ponchos that Seth and Sofia packed for them. They were the only ones who didn’t look miserable about the rain. Howell knew that if he had been in wolf form his ears would have been pointing straight down.
Sofia and Seth were consulting—hunched together as they each dangled crystals from chains. The crystals were glowing a pale blue, and defied gravity, pulling distinctly toward the bridge of the ship.
“What is it?” asked Brynn.
The reports about what theStrumwolkewas carrying were inconclusive. The human intel sources gave it scant attention—describing it as one of Hitler’s looney tunes ideas. The Supernatural sources were either scared shitless or calling it pure foolishness. Sofia had emerged from two days of scrying white-faced and trembling. She called it a nexus point from which she could see no future. Seth didn’t deal in future magic—his magic was of the physical realm—but he said something was out there. Something big. Something that mattered to Shifters.
“It’s here,” said Sofia. Her dark hair was in two long plaits that wound around her head like a crown. When they were done with this, he would take her Monaco. They had earned the time off. No place was untouched by this war, but perhaps in neutral Monaco they could forget it for a few days and she would wear her hair down in the waterfall of midnight black that he loved to run his fingers through.
Silence. Brynn was supposed to speak here. Howell looked at Brynn. Brynn was frowning at her.
“What is here?” asked Brynn at last, like she was supposed to.
“I don’t know,” said Sofia. “Whatever it is, it’s old.”
“It is the warlocks,” said Seth. “They’ve harnessed an ancient magic that doesn’t belong to them.”
Sofia nodded her agreement.
“We work our way forward, then,” said Colwyn. “They’ll have it in one of the forward cabins.”
“I’ll go over the top of the bridge,” said Howell. “The rest of you will come port and starboard in two teams.”
They all nodded.
“We’re not looking for prisoners,” said Howell and they nodded again.
They exited into the driving teeth of the storm and Howell shivered at the cold feeling that ran down his spine. He could feel that something was wrong. And he found himself thinking of all the unfinished tasks he’d left behind him. He wished he’d been able to send his package to Alex, but there hadn’t been time. It was a trinket, seized from a warlock on their last mission when they had been searching for information on theStrumwolke. Seth had wanted it, but Howell had been annoyed at his teammate’s attitude and tucked it away for himself. Sofia said there wasn’t any magic to it, no matter what someone had told the Nazis and he’d decided to send it to Alex just to keep Seth from being a little shithead about it. Well, big shithead. At six-foot-five, it wasn’t as though Seth could ever be considered little.
“You aren’t Howell,” said Brynn. “Where is this?”
There was yelling from somewhere outside the storm, but Howell shook himself and ran a hand over the hilt of the knife Alex had sent him. Maybe someday he could convince his younger brother to join them. Alex had too much potential to be stuck with their stodgy, unimaginative birthpack.
“Ready?” Howell yelled over the howling of the wind. They all nodded. Brynn and Sofia went port. Seth and Colwyn went starboard.
Howell shifted, feeling the claws extend from his freezing toes.
“Where are my boys?” demanded Brynn.
Howell watched a ghost image of Brynn sliding forward, pressed against the hull of the ship, but she was also right next to him.
“Listen to me! You are not Howell! Where are my boys?”
“Mum?” exclaimed Trevor, his hand on Lia’s shoulder. Brynn spun to look at him her face lighting up. “Mum, we’re righthere.”
“Shut up, Brynn,” snarled a deep, familiar voice.
“I know you,” said Brynn, her smile fading.
“Snap out of it!” growled the same voice. Lia felt a stinging slap across her face, and she crashed into someone.
“Stop it!” Pellos yelled.
Howell sprinted across the spine of the ship, claws digging into the metal when his feet slipped on the wet surface. He heard the hard pop of gunfire and saw bodies falling over the side. Howell swung over the edge of the domed bubble of the bridge and slammed feet first into the door. It crashed open, and Howell slid across the floor.
He might have laughed at the astonished expression of the Captain, who was holding some sort of metal box and waving it angrily at a man in what appeared to be a bathrobe. Warlocks always had to have a special outfit. But the tableau became less funny as everyone grabbed for their guns. Behind him, Seth shouted a curse, and the sailors crumpled, screaming in agony. It was just long enough for Howell to regain his feet. He slashed out with claws and knife as Seth fired his pistol. Seth believed in magic—he just also believed in bullets.
Howell was aware of Sofia racing by him, heading toward the cabin on the right.
