Some Were In Time (23 page)

"
What's happening
?" I whispered Hank as I tried to move.

"
They injected us with something that paralyzed us
," he grunted. "
I think the Vampyre blood is the only reason we're not completely knocked out.
"

Dwayne comes through again…

"
Who in the hell are they
?"

"
Don't know. Essie, even if you can move, stay still. The Vamp blood might negate the crap they shot us up with. We don't want them to know
," Hank instructed.

I did as told and searched the thinning crowd for Angela. Had she been injected? Was she dead?

"
Hank, I can't move at all. Can you
?"

"
Nope, not yet
."

The
family
backed away and formed a circle around us effectively blocking out anyone who passed by. Angela lay on the far side and was a bloody mess. My gut clenched in disgust with myself. I never should have taken her weapons. She looked half dead. She could have killed a couple of the bastards if she'd been armed. What the hell had I been thinking?

"
Essie, do not second guess yourself
," Hank reprimanded harshly.

"
How did you know I was
?" I asked, surprised. Son of a bitch, could he read my mind too?

"
I know how you think
," he said. "
Angela will live. A beating will not kill her
."

"
Well, at least we know she's not the bad guy.
"

Nope, she was not the bad guy and the
family
was only the hors d'oeuvre for the bad guy. The bad guys had finally arrived. There were four of them and they were huge.

"
God damn it
," Hank growled. "
I should have known
."

"
It's some of the Council, isn't it?
"

"
Yep. It's the top guards for the Council members themselves
," he said as he watched them closely. "
Can you move yet
?"

"
No
."

Ignoring us completely, the guards went directly to Angela and continued the beating—her body flailed about like a rag doll. My stomach roiled and my heart was beating so hard I was certain it would burst from my chest. Was she being punished for communicating with us off the grid? Did the Council not know about Dima? Were they planning on killing her in front of us? Were we next?

"
I need to move
," I grunted as I tried desperately to make my useless muscles work. "
I have to kill them. They can't do that to her
.
It's my fault she's unarmed. I have to protect her
."

Hank's fury and frustration flowed off of him in waves. The utter insanity of what we were watching made no sense. How was this happening?

"
Little bro bro? Essie
?" Junior's voice boomed through our heads. "
I'm in the zoo. Where in hell and tarnation are you
?"

"
Junior
," Hank gasped with relief in his voice. "
We're at the reptiles. Totally surrounded by Council—four major dangerous guards and around twelve to fifteen lesser targets. We've been injected and paralyzed. You alone
?"

"
At the moment, yes, but I can have a posse in about six seconds. Hang tight, Baby Bro, I'm on my way
."

"
Move it, big Bro. It's ugly here and getting uglier
."

"
Be there in ten
," he said.

"
Minutes
?" I shouted. Angela would be dead in ten minutes.

"
Seconds, little girlie. Ten seconds
," Junior promised with a grunt of laughter.

"
Thank god
," I groused in relief.

"
Any humans around you
?" Junior asked.

"
Negative
," Hank answered. "
Only Were
."

"It's going to be okay, Essie," Hank whispered as Angela's violent beating continued in the background.

"Do you swear?" I demanded in a harsh voice as I forced myself to watch my boss's blood run red over the pavement.

"I do. I swear. Junior might be off his damn rocker, but he's one of the smartest and deadliest sons of bitches I know."

"I hope to hell you're right," I muttered as Dima moaned in pain beside me.

"I know I am, baby. I know I am."

Chapter 16

"Holy sheeeot on a stick in a hula skirt! Is that Brad Pitt shootin' a fight scene for a movie?" Junior bellowed as he and about forty Were Pigeons in both human and bird form came barreling toward the circle from hell we were trapped in.

I knew Were Pigeons existed, but I'd never seen them until now. There were only three known Packs of Pigeons in the world—Chicago, New York and London. In their Were form they looked like Pigeons on steroids—about four times the size of a normal pigeon. However, the razor sharp and unnaturally long fangs were a dead giveaway that they were not typical birds.

Half of the group was in bird form and the other half in human, but with fangs and claws flying. Holy shit, it was an Alfred Hitchcock nightmare on crack.

"
Jesus H Christ
," Hank gasped as he took in the deadly circus descending on us.

"
And then some
," I muttered. "
Wait. What does the H stand for
?"

"
What?
"

"
I mean, I've always wondered. It must stand for something because everyone uses the same initial
."

"
Um… Henry
?" Hank guessed.

"
Nice try, Henry James Wilson
." I laughed. "
I was thinking it might stand for Hesus
."

"
So his name is Jesus Hesus
?" Hank asked, confused.

"
I suppose it is a little weird and rhymey
," I admitted. "
Gross. I think I just got pooped on."

"
It's good luck
," Hank explained as he tried to move his still useless body. "
I just sure as hell hope Junior was clear on who the bad guys were when he briefed the flying, crapping time bombs
."

"
I'll second that
," I mumbled as I watched the drama unfold.

"I love Brad Pitt," an adorable female Pigeon screamed at a decibel that made every Were within a surrounding mile wince in pain.

She tore through the circle along with two dozen others and jumped on the back of the largest, most violent Council guard. He tried to throw her off, but her sharp little claws were embedded tight.

"It
is
BRAD PITT," she wailed, and then triple-winked at her delighted bloodthirsty friends. The guard was still trying to shake her off when she began pecking a rhythm in his neck that made my teeth hurt and the guard swear in fury and pain.

The
family
glanced wildly around in confusion. I swear to Jesus Hesus some of them were actually looking for Brad Pitt. The IQ level of these particular Wolves was very low… With a shrill whistle and a quick chorus of yipping, the Pigeons went ballistic on the Wolves. The lupines were screaming and running for their lives as the birds dove and attacked. Their human counterparts pecked the living hell out of the bastards.

Junior was beating the crap out of anything that came close to us. Dima was slowly waking up, but Hank and I were still frozen and useless.

"Junior," I shouted above the din. "Find Angela. She's across the circle. She needs our help."

"I'm on it," he yelled as he placed several Pigeons in front of us for protection.

Never in a million years would I have guessed how freakin' violent Pigeons were. They were tearing the
family
to shreds and enjoying the hell out of it, if the laughing and backslapping were any indication.

"How did he find forty Pigeons?" I muttered to Hank as I watched in horror.

"Junior can find a needle in a haystack. Finding forty Pigeons would be a no-brainer for him. Plus, I'm pretty sure he does online gaming with Pigeons," Hank explained.

Of course he did.

The crowd thinned dramatically as the death toll of the Wolves rose. The battle was basically over and the Pigeons had definitely won. The birds were as quick as they were violent. Dead bodies disappeared faster than they had fallen to the ground. How were they doing that? That's when I noticed what they were wearing—uniforms. They all had safari uniforms on. The Pigeons worked at the zoo. They were the grounds people, ticket takers, animal caretakers and security.

Freakin' brilliant.

This was the first time I'd come across a Were Pigeon and I was kind of hoping it would be the last. These suckers had ridden the bus in from Crazytown and stayed.

"She's gone," Junior huffed as he wiped his brow in frustration. "Three of the guards got away and they took Angela."

"Son of a bitch," Hank roared in frustration. "We have to get her back. Of course it would help if I could freakin’ move."

"Ease up, Bro," Junior said as he gave a hand signal to the Pigeons.

They drove a golf cart over and proceeded to dump Hank, Dima and myself in the back.

"Should we cover them up?" a male Pigeon inquired as he patted my head sweetly and gently pushed the bloody hair out of Dima's face.

"Yep," Junior said. "Keep ‘em covered until we get them out to my SUV in the parking lot. And let me tell you something… you sons of bitches were goddamned incredible. I have never seen such focused and direct violent bloodshed—very little wasted movement. I'd like to bring a few of you down to Georgia to do some combat training with my Pack if that might interest you."

"It most certainly does," the gal who started the whole Brad Pitt scream-peck-fest said with pride. "Most Weres discount us as beneath them because we're birds. We would be honored to visit you in Georgia."

"Anyone who discounts you is a dumbass," I muttered as the golf cart jerked forward.

"And are you a dumbass?" the Pigeon inquired as she peeked under the tarp.

"Absolutely not," I told her with a grin as the feeling in my legs slowly began to come back. "I'm a smartass."

Her laugh was musical and I decided maybe I was wrong about never wanting to see a Were Pigeon again. I certainly never wanted to be on their bad side, but their fighting technique was outstanding. I could learn something from them.

"Do you shoot?" I asked the Pigeon as her giggles died down.

"Name's Birdie," she said as she shoved her hand under the tarp, grabbed my still limp one in a firm grip and shook it.

"Essie," I said as I bit back a laugh at her moniker.

"You can laugh," she said with a put upon sigh. "Everyone else does. My Mamma was a little out there and very literal—hence the name."

"I actually like it," I told her.

It was adorable, just like her. Of course, she was also one of the most violent Weres I'd ever come across, but she was cute.

"As for shooting…" Birdie said thoughtfully. "Not really. I'd sure like to learn."

"How about I trade you some shooting lessons for some lessons on whatever the hell you just did to those Wolves?"

"Take her up on it," Junior advised my new friend as he jogged alongside the golf cart. "Essie can shoot the teats off a cow three counties over… blindfolded."

"Deal," Birdie said. "I'm always here, so you just come find me when you're ready."

"You live here at the zoo?" I asked.

"Yep. Got everything we need right here."

"Do you guys own the zoo?"

"You could say that," she said with a wink and a grin. "Kinda depends on who's in office, but we own most of the real estate in the Midwest."

"For real?" I asked impressed.

I never knew Weres were such shrewd businesspeople.

"For real," Birdie said. "Now take care and don't get killed. I don't make new friends too often, so when I do I like to keep ‘em."

"Will do," I promised with a grin.

"Thank you for defending us today," Hank said as he gingerly rolled up on his side. "We're indebted to you."

"Ahhh, it was fun. Haven't been in a smackdown in at least two weeks. Call it even," Birdie said as she slapped a wobbly Hank on the back.

"Much obliged," Junior said gratefully as he helped transfer us to his SUV. "I'll be in touch about Georgia."

"We'll be waiting!" Birdie yelled as we pulled away.

About a hundred or so Pigeons waved goodbye as we slowly rolled through the parking lot and onto Lakeshore Drive. I shook my head and grinned as Dima gaped at the Were Pigeons. She had missed the whole thing. She was never going to believe it, but that was not my problem. I was just happy to be alive.