“I can’t wait to see where we’re going.” Mace’s sun-streaked dark hair hung in his face as he dug into the envelope. “Somewhere hot with beaches, I hope. Warm sand, killer surf, chicks in bikinis…”
“Not…exactly,” Ky said, amused. Call him sadistic, but he got a kick out of sending Mace to places that forced him to work hard at having fun. The guy needed to be taken down a peg or two now and then.
Tayla wore her I’m-about-to-fuck-up-your-day smile. She also got a kick out of pushing Mace out of his comfort zone and forcing him to be more serious. “You,” she said, all classic Vanna White with a flourish, “have won an all-expenses-paid trip to wild, buggy Alaska.”
Deflated, Blade groaned and tossed his packet back onto the table. “I hate the cold.”
“It’s summer there,” Kynan said, and Blade perked up. “Expectsudden rainstorms and mosquitoes the size of pterodactyls.”
Blade slumped back down in his seat. “Even better.”
“Stop whining.” Scotty perused the packet. “I like Alaska. You got mountains, bears, and kick-ass breweries.”
“You’re not on vacation,” Tayla reminded them. “This is a mission.”
Mace looked up from flipping through the photos included in the briefing materials. “What kind of mission?”
The eager glint in his coffee-colored eyes matched Scotty’s. Those two liked the dangerous and weird assignments and were always ready to go tearing into a situation. Blade was the cautious one, so, instead of a glint, his dark gaze held wary shadows.
Tayla turned on the room’s main 3D holoscreen, and it hung over the table between them. “It’ll be a joint operation with two special-ops agents from our Seattle office. You already know Skoll, so you know he’s a werewolf with extensive training in tracking and survival. And, thanks to his dad’s job as a paramedic at Underworld General, he’s also trained in advanced first aid. The other agent is Jon. Former Green Beret and a bear shifter with specialized knowledge of multiple Indigenous languages and mythologies.”
The trio exchanged glances.
“Okay,” Blade said slowly. “So, what, exactly, are we doing with them?”
“You’ll meet at a hotel in Fairbanks,” Kynan said, “and then you’ll set out for a cabin in the Yukon-Charley National Preserve, where you’re going to be investigating reports of a wendigo.”
“A wendigo?” Mace jacked upright in his seat. He loved shiny new things. “What the fuck are those? Demons?”
“Good question.” Tayla tucked a long strand of auburn hair behind her ear. She was also around Kynan’s age, without a single gray hair or wrinkle, thanks to the bond she shared with her Seminus demon mate, Eidolon. “Jon’ll be able to tell you more about them, but basically, they’re cannibalistic beasts. The Aegis and DART have always assumed they were mythical, but several people have gone missing near the preserve, and a credible source gave a description that resembles the wendigo myth.”
Mace grinned. “Awesome. We could be the first to confirm them as a new known species. We’ll be famous. Plastered all overUnderworld News Today.”
“So, are they demons?” Scotty asked, ignoring Mace and his delusions of fame and fortune. “Or no?”
Kynan shrugged. “We don’t know. That’s what your team is going to determine. Read your packets for more information, and the Seattle boys will fill you in on the rest.”
Mace nodded, his body language morphing from devil-may-care to serious-as-a-heart-attack as he shifted into mission mode. The guy was a wildcard in social settings, but as reliable as the tides on an assignment. Ask him to do it, and he did it. His methods of achieving the goal, however, tended to be unconventional and, as often as not, against the rules. “When do we leave?”
“You have six hours to prepare,” Tayla said. “Your packets contain addresses, names, and essential information you’ll need to get you started. Pack light. You’ll be hiking a lot.”
Kynan reached into a drawer and withdrew a box. The team watched, spellbound, as he plopped it down on the desk and lifted the lid.
“This,” he said, “is a prototype of the weapon we contracted with StryTech.”
Scotty’s eyes shot wide. “Is that…a Reaper?”
“Yep.” Kynan lifted the sleek object from the box, its polished horn grip conforming to his palm as if it were made for him. He couldn’t wait to get into the field and try it out for himself. He’d been stuck behind a desk for far too long, and he was itching for a fight. “Stryke delivered it to me yesterday, and you guys are going to be the first to test it out.”
Scotty practically bounced in her seat. Her sharp eyes missed nothing, though, and she zeroed in on the weapon’s grip. “Is that Ramreel horn?”
Kynan nodded. “Don’t worry, no innocent Ramreels died for this. A male from your father’s herd donated it.”
“I wasn’t worried about its origins,” she said. “Most Ramreels are evil bastards. I’m just wondering why Ramreel horn is part of the construction.”
Kynan ran his thumb over the smooth, oddly warm demonic material. “Stryke said it can sense the intentions of whoever is holding it. Increases accuracy.”
“Awesome.” Mace’s dark eyes gleamed with excitement, while Blade’s went wary and cold. Any mention of his estranged brother did that to him. “How does it work?”
