The Demon Accords Compendium, Volume III Read online

  Contents

  The Demon Accords Compendium,

  Two Natures

  Threefold

  Herding Wolves

  The Webs We Weave

  The King’s Daughter

  Parabellum

  Author’s Notes:

  The Demon Accords Compendium,

  Volume III

  By

  John Conroe

  This book is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Copyright © 2020 John Conroe

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

  The Demon Accords series:

  God Touched

  Demon Driven

  Brutal Asset

  Black Frost

  Duel Nature

  Fallen Stars

  Executable

  Forced Ascent

  College Arcane

  God Hammer

  Rogues

  Snake Eyes

  Winterfall

  Summer Reign

  The Demon Accords Compendium, Volume 1

  The Demon Accords Compendium, Volume 2

  Demon Divine

  C.A.E.C.O.

  Darkkin Queen

  The Demon Accords Compendium, Volume 3

  The Zone War series:

  Zone War

  Borough of Bones

  Web of Extinction

  The Shadows of Montshire series:

  A Murder of Shadows

  A Flight of Ravens (Late Fall 2020)

  A Mischief of Rats (Spring 2021)

  Cover art by Gareth Otton.

  Two Natures

  This story takes place after the events of Darkkin Queen and shows a little portion of some of my favorite side characters’ lives.

  Marika Kelly started to wonder if she’d made a mistake. Taking the Cross-Town trail to get from the center of Cape to Robinson Woods, and from there to her favorite bakery, had seemed like an easy way to fill a May Saturday afternoon in Maine. Taking the pleasant little woods hike from a church parking lot to the two-hundred-plus acre Land Trust parcel near the shore side of Cape would shave probably two miles off her walk, plus the woods were sunny and pleasant, the air smelling of springtime growth and the end of a long, tedious winter. It was a warm day, in the lower sixties, and she’d worn gym shorts in celebration of the end of her least favorite season.

  But now the pretty brunette was starting to regret a number of choices she’d made. Staying to chat with a high school friend at the bakery had left her with a rapidly setting sun that made the woods a much less friendly place than even an hour earlier. Going alone was also maybe not her best choice. A girl should always be able to wear what she wanted, but the reality was that the light gym shorts that had made her feel energized now left her feeling vulnerable when she passed the group of juniors, all boys, on her way back. The stares, the whispered comments, and subsequent laughter had sent a chill up her back. And then there was the matter of her friend, Kristin Vilhelmsdottir, who’d gone missing from Cape a month ago.

  Now halfway down the trail on her way home, only the fact that she’d passed a middle-aged couple heading the other way made her feel better. They should now be between her and the boys who had begun to follow her. Perhaps the sight of adults would slow them, she thought, picking up her own pace to almost a jog.

  She pulled out her phone and tapped a friend from a long list and listened through her Bluetooth earbuds for the call to go through. It didn’t dial, and when she glanced at her signal bars, she found there was no service listed in their place.

  That’s about the time she heard the snap of a stick breaking in the woods behind her. Screw it. Time to jog. She moved easily into a ground-eating pace, trusting her cross country training to get her out of the woods and into the center of her supposedly safe little town. None of the three boys, and she knew who each of them was, played any sports, so she doubted their conditioning.

  Cape, as it was known to its inhabitants, occupied almost fifty square miles of promontory that poked out into the Atlantic Ocean just a few miles southeast of Portland. A combination of historic agricultural plots mixed with protected community forests and mostly private shoreline, Cape had a per capita income well above the national average. The wealth of its inhabitants gave it the luxury of excellent government services, a nationally ranked school system, and a fairly low crime rate. That’s partly why the news of her missing friend had made the big news networks in New York City.

  Another stick snapped, just as close as the first, and Marika started to feel the beginnings of true panic set in. Her feet picked up their pace, her eyes picking out the roots and rocks in the well-tramped trail even in the shadows of the rapidly dimming daylight. To calm herself, she tried to remember everything she had learned in the community center’s women’s self-defense class her parents had made her attend.

  The rustle of something big moving through leaf litter shattered her thoughts, her heart almost freezing up at the nearness of the sound. She glanced behind and saw a darkness between the thick-set trees that had nothing to do with afternoon shadows or maybe even teenaged boys.

  Now almost at a dead run, Marika could see the gaps in the forest ahead that would open out into the church parking lot. A collection of log seats appeared, used for outdoor church services, which told her she was just a football field from safety. Opening up into a full sprint, she raced from the rapidly darkening woods and out onto the open asphalt of the parking lot. The main road through town was just ahead and she didn’t slow for a moment, crossing the open lot in seconds. Only when she reached the sidewalk just up from the municipal building and attendant police department did she slow to a walk. She glanced behind her but saw only shadows and trees at the trail’s opening.

  But while she couldn’t see into the thick forest, a set of yellow eyes could easily see her, even across several hundred yards, and they watched her as she moved rapidly away. The girl gone, the eyes turned away, looking at the trail behind.

  Almost a mile and a half away, Lucas Downing, Ren Stilling, and James Oliver jumbled along the trail, laughing and joking about the really pretty senior they were absently following. Marika Kelly was one of the hottest girls in school, and to see her in short shorts had caught all of their attention. The way she had stared at them before looking away had become a matter of some contention.

  “I’m telling you she looked me right in the eyes,” Lucas said for about the twentieth time.

  “Dude, I think the look she threw your way was disgust. Now, the one she sent in my direction was hot!” Ren replied with confidence.

  “You’re both delusional,” James said. “She wanted nothing to do with any of us, and if you ask me, I think we scared her.”

  “James, you don’t know shit about girls in general and hot ones in particular,” Lucas said, voice dripping with condescension.

  “There’s a difference? Girls are girls; doesn’t matter what they look like,” James said.

  “That’s how I know you know absolute shit about the ladies,” Lucas, who was in the lead, said, looking back.

  Because his head was turned, he didn’t see the massive fur-covered form that lunged out from behind the trunk of a wind-toppled oak tree. The surprised looks of his two friends caused him to turn back just as the first blow slammed into the side of his face. He was unconscious before he hit the ground and didn’t see the second blo
w that lifted Ren almost completely off his feet. He didn’t see James stumble backward, almost fall, but instead turn and run down the trail. He never regained consciousness, never heard his friend’s final screams as darkness fell upon Robinson Woods.

  Thirty-eight hours later, a dark SUV with government plates pulled into the town’s police department parking lot and three doors opened.

  “Tell me again why we couldn’t have flown?” Mack Sutton asked as he exited the rear passenger door and stretched.

  “Agent Jay doesn’t hand out airline tickets like candy, Mack,” Special Agent Caeco Jensen said as she left the driver’s seat. “I’m lucky I was able to get her to agree to bringing both of you with me. No way would she pay airfare for you too.”

  “That wasn’t you at all,” Jetta Sutton shot back. “She listened to Declan more than you.”

  Caeco frowned and looked away.

  “Okay, that was below the belt,” Jetta said with a grimace. “Sorry. I’m grouchy from the ride. But in my defense, you did eat all the chips.”

  “You know the rules… you snooze, you lose,” Caeco said, her frown relaxing away. “And I’m already regretting it, believe me – talking Jay into it that is, not the chips. Now, follow me, keep your mouths shut, and let me do the talking.”

  The brother and sister both snorted at almost the exact same time, then laughed the same laugh. Caeco sighed.

  Shaking her head, Caeco led them into the police station and up to the bullet-resistant glass booth. The man who looked up appeared more like clerk than an officer, but either way, his expression was completely unwelcoming. His name tag said Larry. No last name.

  “What?” was the extent of his greeting.

  Visibly squaring her shoulders, Caeco pulled out her Bureau credentials and pressed them flat against the glass.

  “You’re joking?” the man said, glaring like she was trying to get the better of him.

  “No joke. Special Agent Caeco Jensen to see Chief Kent,” she said.

  He frowned even deeper if that was possible, studying the ID and then her before doing it all again.

  “Perhaps I should just call him on his cell and save you the effort?” she asked.

  “Knock yourself out,” the man said, even grouchier, now staring over her shoulder at her companions. “What kindergarten did they escape from?”

  She waited for a nasty response from Jetta or Mack or even both, but when they stayed silent, she glanced back at them. They waited with bored expressions, Jetta with arms crossed and Mack leaning against the wall, studying his cell phone.

  Rather than argue, Caeco lifted the phone to her ear; it was already dialing.

  “Chief Kent? Agent Jensen… I’m in your vestibule. Larry, your receptionist, won’t let me in. Yeah, thanks.” She hung up and put her hands behind her back in parade rest, eyes locked on Larry’s.

  Moments later a tall, muscular officer with just a hint of gray at his black-haired temples strode up. He shot Larry a quick look of annoyance, then opened the locked door leading into the station.

  For his part, sudden concern flooded Larry’s face, then he turned away and made himself busy with filing paperwork.

  “Sorry about that,” Chief Kent said, reaching out to shake her hand.

  “I don’t look like a typical agent, and having these two with me makes it worse,” she said, waving at the brother-sister duo coming in behind her. “Chief Kent, this is Jetta Sutton and her brother, Mack. They are specialists in werewolves.”

  The chief was looking at them with a touch of astonishment on his face. “You look more like college kids,” he said, smiling slightly to ease the comment. Still, there was an open curiosity mixed with a bit of disbelief in his expression.

  “We are college kids. Our school released us to help Caeco with your potential werewolf attack,” Mack said. “It’s like a field trip.”

  “Your school released you?” the chief asked, frowning lightly.

  “These two have hunted more werewolves than most anyone else I know, with the exception of Chris Gordon,” she explained. “And they go to a very special school.”

  “Where a third of the student body are weres, mostly wolves but also a few bears, cougars, and a couple of leopards from Africa,” Jetta said.

  “You hunt werewolves and go to school with them?” the chief asked.

  “And she’s dating one,” Mack said with a nod at his sister. “We’re young, Chief, but we really do have a lot of experience with two-natured people. And witches… lots of witches. Plus a few vampires, but they’re all a lot older.”

  “My boss, Special Agent Lois Jay, who heads up the Special Threat Response Team, agreed the Suttons would be useful. It’s entirely possible you don’t even have a were attack at all,” Caeco said. “But we’ll figure it out.”

  Chief Kent looked undecided for a moment, then shook his head. “My own contact at Quantico said that you were the real deal. I’ll just have to take your word on these two. Come on; I’ll bring you up to speed,” he said, leading them down a hall around a corner and then through a door with the title Chief on the wall next to it.

  All three noticed that the building was fairly new, appeared to be well-built, and was quite a bit bigger than a little village should need. Caeco’s research, which she had shared on the ride up, had indicated less than ten thousand full-time residents, but the police department consisted of one chief, one captain, three sergeants, a detective, six patrol officers, a community liaison officer, and a school resource officer along with a harbormaster. Mack had commented on how new and well-equipped the police patrol SUVs in the parking lot had been.

  The chief shut the door as he pointed to chairs across from his desk. The office was large but seemed to do double duty for other police activities, as there was a weapon clearing barrel in one corner and a digital camera system linked to a printer in another. Firearm cleaning gear occupied a table against the back wall, which was also where Jetta and Mack found chairs.

  “I issue all the local pistol permits here,” he explained when he noticed Caeco glance at his unusual furnishings.

  “Jack of all trades,” she said with a nod, glancing at the manila folder in the center of his otherwise clear desk.

  His big right hand moved over and pressed flat against the file. “Before I share this with you, I need to impress upon you the sensitivity of this situation,” he said, giving all three of them a stern look. For her part, she just looked back at him, her face blank. Neither of her friends said a word, and the silence resulted in him raising a brow.

  “Every case I work on is sensitive, Chief Kent,” Caeco said. “It’s pretty much Bureau tradition, but Special Threats is even more sensitive.” He looked at her, then turned his eyes to the others.

  “Keeping secrets at our school is a survival skill,” Jetta said.

  He nodded and looked at her brother.

  “Witches are really unpleasant to people who breach their trust, Chief,” Mack said. “We don’t gossip to anyone, although I’ll tell you that if our summer employers ask us, we’ll have to tell them.”

  Immediately he frowned and shot an annoyed look at Caeco. She just smiled, which caused his glare to change to curiosity.

  “Who are your employers?” he finally asked Mack.

  “Chris Gordon and Tatiana Demidova,” Mack said.

  “You two work for Demidova Corporation?”

  “No. We’re working for Chris and Tanya, directly. They have a training site that we’ll be doing a ton of work on.”

  To his credit, the chief didn’t act incredulous, instead just widening his eyes slightly. “This is a small community, but it is one of the more desirable places to live in this entire area. People pay high prices to own homes here, and they do so with the expectation that it’s safe and quiet. The death of these two boys will change every bit of that. The deaths are public knowledge, but not all of the circumstances. The public knows there was an animal attack but not what kind and we’ve closed th
e trails. But things will likely change very soon, either through a leak to the press or because we hold our own conference. I very much want it to be the second of those choices. I was told you could help close this out fast.”

  “We’ll do our best,” Caeco said, holding his gaze. After a moment, he nodded and handed her the file. She carefully looked through every page and every photo, taking her time, but after one pass through, she handed it to Jetta, who in turn handed it straight to Mack.

  The chief started to comment but she held up one hand. “Let’s hold off until Mack looks it over with an unbiased eye.”

  Surprised, Chief Kent turned and looked at the siblings. Jetta just smiled back, but Mack was frowning at the coroner’s report and one of the crime scene photos simultaneously. Then he flipped back to another page.

  “Can we speak to this James Oliver and this Marika Kelly? And I presume you have a full case file on this missing Kristin Vilhelmsdottir that Marika mentions in her statement?”

  “We haven’t ever found a body, so for all we know Kristin was homesick for her home in Iceland and ran away,” the chief said, frowning.

  “Do you know if she traveled there recently?” Caeco asked.

  “I understand her family went back on spring break. Her father is an executive with a major shipping company with offices in Portland,” Chief Kent said.

  “Which was when?” Mack asked.

  “Spring break? A month ago, almost exactly.”

  Mack handed the file to his sister and turned to Caeco with raised brows. She nodded, which prompted Chief Kent to lean back in his chair, his own eyebrows going up in disbelief. “You have a theory already?”

  “I have a lot of questions already,” Mack said. “Jet, do those photos look like a were kill?” he asked his sister, who was now also frowning at the gory photos.

  “Not really. The one boy was killed by what appears to be a clawed blow across the face, which tore off his jaw and ripped open a carotid artery. The other boy had two blows, one across his stomach and a second, killing blow across his throat as he lay on the ground, at least according to the coroner,” she said. “I see tracks around the bodies that are definitely canine and large enough to be a small werewolf, but something about them bothers me.”