Courts and Cabals G. D'Moore (classic reads .TXT) 📖

Since the UN agents would be long gone, it would fall to the dozen people of the Franklin County Sheriff’s Department to hold the line. If Becky was smart, she’d have her resignation on the other Sheriff’s desk, and an application in to the UN Response Division.

That was wishful thinking on his part. He sighed as six nylon ropes dropped from the helicopter. He watched as six figures repelled down to the street, followed by six more. Being a mage with shifter senses, he could see the modifications done to the chopper.

It looked like a Blackhawk at first glance, but there were two jet turbines secured to the top of the hull. He didn’t know how that worked, but he was willing to bet his paycheck it was a hell of a lot faster than your average US Army chopper. There were also a pair of mounted missile pods, a small cannon attached to the underbelly, and enough protective wards on the exterior to protect it from a direct missile strike. It was built to take a hit and keep on trucking, and that didn’t even take into consideration the dozen men and women catching a ride. They were the real weapon.

They hit the ground with synchronized proficiency and spread out to secure a perimeter. He thought it was a bit much. They already had a perimeter, but he wasn’t about to tell the powerful supernaturals how to do their jobs. They were all dressed in black armor, with black helmets, and black-tinted visors. Even with his enhanced vision, he couldn’t see the people behind the mask. He did see their weapons. Most were armed with the same M4’s Becky’s brother was carrying. Unlike his strike team, the Echelon team would be carrying whatever ammo they wanted. Two big members of the team were carrying heavy weapons. One looked like the 240 Bravo he’d faced off against the vamps with in Seattle. The memory sent an involuntary shiver up his spine.

The other armored man was a walking mountain, and he casually carried a fucking minigun like it was nothing. An ammunition belt rapped around the guy like a snake, but despite the tripping hazard, he moved just as swiftly as the rest of the team in securing the new perimeter. Once that was set, the modified Blackhawk peeled off, but didn’t go far.

“Must be nice to have aerial overwatch,” Vernon tracked the chopper by sound as it looped around the town, always keeping one of its weapons systems pointed at the target.

With the perimeter set, a figure detached itself from the group and advanced on Vernon. He stood a little straighter out of instinct, but as the being approached, it quickly became evident Vernon was the shorter of the two. Being short made him bristle since it didn’t happen often, but then he felt the power. It was the type of power he’d only felt in an alpha shifter, and despite his pride, he found himself naturally bowing his head in submission to the newcomer.

Whoever it was, they were tall, easily seven feet, but without the bulk Vernon, or the man with the minigun, possessed. If he had to guess, there was a wiry strength to the individual who was casually radiating power.

“Special Agent Dud?” the voice behind the helmet was deep and rang with authority.

“Yes,” Vernon coughed and extended his hand.

Long, almost delicate, gloved fingers wrapped around his hand and relayed a strength that could grind his bones to dust. “Commander Feng of Echelon Three. What’s the situation here?” the Commander got right down to business.

“It all started with a permitting issue for unauthorized weather magic,” Vernon began. “I investigated and identified a person of interest, Cameron Dupree. All initial, standard tests came back negative, but we kept an eye on him. We thought he was a mundane human, and apparently got himself into some trouble with a noble Fae attending the academy up the hill,” he pointed at the lights of St. Vincent’s. “The kid managed to get himself into a trial by combat with a Fae knight. Our last positive ID on the target was him entering the pizza joint and vanishing into a Fae-created pocket dimension. We wanted to shut this down before it got to the point of Dupree getting killed over some stupid, teenage blood feud. Now, we’re not so sure what the hell is happening. The Director called to inform me that Dupree has been identified as a novel supernatural, and to hold until your arrival. We have a two-block perimeter set up, and nothing has come or gone since then,” he wrapped it up as concisely as he could.

“Opposition?” the Commander had turned his attention toward the target building, and Vernon could smell magic in the air. It made him want to sneeze.

“Dupree is an unknown, but there is one Fae noble, a Fae knight, half a dozen changelings, a succubus of the Venetian cabal, a dwarf, and imp, and one unknown; although we expect he is also an imp. We just don’t have a file on him,” Vernon informed.

“Sounds like all the ingredients for a who walked into a bar joke,” it sounded like the Commander was making a joke, but Vernon couldn’t tell through the black visor. The werewolf smiled anyway.

“Show me where you think the pocket is,” the Commander gestured for Vernon to go first, so he led the way into the building. Two of the echelon team members followed their commander, including the big fucker with the minigun.

Vernon stopped at the edge of the hallway and pointed at the bathroom. “We caught them going through the door before we lost them.”

“All right,” the Commander casually walked down the hallway and stood before the door. “Emilio, make sure they’re ready on the perimeter.”

“Yes, sir,” a man with an M4 turned away and must have been talking on the Echelon frequency. Vernon