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Authors: Domino Finn

The Seventh Sons (Sycamore Moon Series Book 1) (17 page)

BOOK: The Seventh Sons (Sycamore Moon Series Book 1)
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Automatic rifle fire opened up and trailed in the dirt behind the biker. As he reached an old rusted husk suspended on blocks, Diego slid into the gravel and slipped underneath the steel barrier to the other side. Gunfire rang out loudly against the metal—it jarred his senses but did not penetrate through to him.
Diego picked himself up and stood with his back to the structure, against the supporting cinder blocks, breathing hard.
He had succeeded in drawing Doka away from the square. Now what?
v.
 
Maxim hunched over his knees with his back to the wall. His second mag was empty. It had taken a lot of fire to suppress the Yavapai with the assault rifle.
The detective patted at his chest and stomach under his jacket. Was he hit? Why hadn't he worn his vest today?
He looked down. No blood. He had probably just landed on a rib when he dove to the floor.
The detective quickly peeked his head around the doorway. The Indian was waiting in the same spot behind cover. He was leaning against the back side of the right train car, exposing only his head and right arm as the rifle rested on a metal railing.
Maxim barely pulled back as bullets whizzed past his head and into a cabinet on the far wall. The Yavapai had a bead on his position. Maxim couldn't continue peeking out from the same spot.
The detective reached for his belt and pulled out his remaining magazine. Fifteen silver rounds. If this was the last of his ammunition, he would need to be more accurate. The smooth metal of the cartridge slid into his Glock with a satisfying click.
His only chance was the draw the man out. Maxim stood up and wondered how he would manage to escape the train car without getting hit. He needed to see into the courtyard first, to see what was out there. The open door was near the back of the train car, but he was standing on the left side of it. All he could see was the right train car that the Yavapai was behind.
Maxim took a nervous breath and crossed the doorway to reach the back of the car. More shots butchered the cabinet but he was left untouched. Although Maxim didn't have a nook to tuck away in and was exposed to whatever was outside the door, the Yavapai's angle of fire had been cut off. He would need to step out into the courtyard to fire upon Maxim, and that's the spot he trained his gun on.
In the meantime, Maxim could monitor the scene to the left of the doorway now, into the square. He saw Nithya crouching against the far train car, holding her bag, in the opposite corner he was in. She was petrified.
He also saw Angelica's legs in the corner of his view. She was lying on the ground motionless, probably hit. Maxim would have needed to poke his head out to see more, and he couldn't afford to do that just yet.
Where was Deborah? She had escaped to the far side somewhere. Surely she was close by, waiting to strike...
The Yavapai stepped into Maxim's sight with his weapon raised. Maxim popped off five shots and at least two of them met the man before his opponent had managed to pull the trigger. The Indian buckled and carelessly fired the rifle towards the detective, before pulling back to his previous position. The man was hurt. Now Maxim could see what that silver was worth.
Suddenly, Nithya screamed. Still in her heels, she ran clumsily, trying to get away from something. A wolf with brown and white markings trotted into view. The animal wasn't especially small or large, but it had a ferocity that was unmatched by normal wildlife.
The beast leaped and landed on her. Nithya was tackled onto her chest as the animal bit down into the top of her shoulder, inches from her neck. The wolf shook her head violently back and forth, twisting Nithya like a rag doll.
Maxim discharged his weapon. The wolf moved away, biting down with her teeth, dragging Nithya beneath her. It took three more shots before the wolf released her prey and bounded away.
She slipped behind another train car—hiding like the rest of them. He thought it odd but he could've sworn that the wolf, running away, had no tail. No matter. Maxim didn't have time for such trivialities. He knew that the animal was just around corner, waiting.
Nithya ripped her business jacket off. The top half of her white shirt was soaked in blood. As she awkwardly tried to sit up, she held the jacket against her wound to stop the bleeding.
The detective picked up movement in the corner of his eye and looked to Angelica again. She wasn't there. It was quick, but it looked like she had been dragged away.
Shit.
The detective returned his attention to Nithya. The woman was giving herself a shot from a small syringe. The plastic case she had collected was sitting open next to her. What was she doing?
Then Maxim saw the brown and white wolf reemerge from behind the distant rail car. He squared his pistol, taking careful aim, and released a round.
The wolf's jaw clamped down on Nithya's hand and jerked her backwards.
Suddenly, bullets whizzed by Maxim's head. The detective ducked and saw the Yavapai back in the open. Maxim ran to the left and fired two more shots to back the Indian off.
Now, Nithya and Angelica were both missing.
The detective huddled next to the doorway again and listened as Doka and Diego fired at each other in the distance. Yet his two foes remained silent.
What was going on out there?
Where was the marshal?
And what could he do with only three bullets?
vi.
 
Diego knew Doka was back there. He could have been right around the corner. Ideally, he would have waited longer and let the man reveal himself by making a sound, but Angelica didn't have that kind of time.
The biker spun around the corner of the metal husk and brandished his pistol. Nothing. Diego pulled back around.
Some automatic weapons fire emerged in the distance. It was followed by a shot from Maxim. Good—he was still alive.
Diego ducked down and peeked under the train car, between the cinder blocks. He didn't see any movement, so he hopped lightly to the other corner.
Suddenly, right next to him, Doka emerged at the end of the barrier. At point blank, Diego pulled his hand up and fired a shot. It penetrated the Yavapai's shoulder and the man screamed in pain.
Instead of firing again, Diego saw Doka's rifle rotating towards him. He pressed both hands against it to hold it off. Doka discharged multiple rounds right next to the biker's face.
Everything went quiet for a moment as the two became locked, pushing their metal together. Diego's ears rang loudly as his hearing returned, and he almost seemed to lose his balance under the force of the stronger man.
Diego's pistol was pressed against the rifle—he couldn't pull it away or he'd be dead—but he tried to aim it at Doka as much as he could. He pulled the trigger and fired two shots.
Doka bent away to the side to avoid the attack and tried to do the same. The automatic rifle clicked as it spent its remaining ammo.
The two men look at each other as they quickly processed the new development.
The biker pushed himself off the Indian and backed up a step, homing his pistol on the man's torso. A good central hit should weaken the man and suppress the wolf.
The Yavapai swung the empty rifle down in a graceful motion and slammed it against Diego's gun as it discharged. The biker's hand erupted in pain, and he couldn't hold on to his weapon. It fell to the dirt at his feet. Diego dropped down to recover it. As his fingers brushed against the metal, the butt of Doka's rifle swung upwards and met him square in the face.
The sound of Diego landing on his back was muffled. Something in his head spun and he struggled to remember where he was. His mind was whirling.
Through his blurry vision, he could see Doka standing tall before him. Diego blinked back the blood that trickled past his eyes and could barely make out the Yavapai throwing his rifle to the floor and stepping over him.
The gun. It was in his hand. Diego had managed to pick it up before getting knocked back. He lifted his heavy arm and fired. Again, and again.
Then he was empty.
Diego de la Torre lay quietly on the ground. Nothing was happening. He wiped his face with his hand and his head stopped spinning. He was sprawled in the dirt, next to the metal barrier, alone.
Then Doka, with a victorious smile on his pockmarked face, slowly came around the corner again. He was holding his left arm where it was bleeding above the elbow. Diego had hit him twice but didn't inflict any fatal wounds.
In the distance, Maxim's weapon rang out and they both heard a stifling yell. The lumbering man turned his head to the sound.
"Doka!" yelled the other Native American in a gurgled voice.
Doka's eyebrows scrunched over his eyes.
"Doka!"
A single pistol shot echoed in the air, and the man didn't scream anymore.
Dried leaves fell past Doka's hardened face and settled on the ground. The man burned with determination and focused on the biker. And then Doka's head spasmed.
Diego sat up on his elbows. His right hand hurt, more than his head did. It looked like it was swelling. He wiggled his fingers as pain seared up his arm.
The man in front of him fell to the dirt, catching himself with his hands. Doka let out a gruff bellow from deep in his gut.
It was time. Diego crawled backwards through the dirt. He was stuck by the occasional rock but he ignored it. He needed to get distance while he had the chance.
The biker peeked under the rusted train car. He didn't see Maxim anywhere. They were alone.
The transformation was almost instantaneous. A dark brown wolf with a wide chest lumbered before him, staring ahead with cold gray eyes. A deep growl rumbled as Doka bared his teeth. This was it.
The animal covered all the ground in between them in a single pounce and was on top of the biker in a flash. The weight of the beast almost knocked the air from his lungs. Diego felt the teeth scrape his left arm as he frantically protected his face.
But Doka whimpered and jumped up over his head, off of him.
Diego spun around in the dirt, rolling onto his stomach and picking himself up on his injured forearm. Grains of dirt scraped into his open wound, but the biker trained his eyes on his target.
In the distance ahead, the large brown wolf scampered away, limping, favoring his left front leg. In his left side, Diego's long silver knife was lodged in the animal's rib cage. He had missed the heart, but with all that silver, that had to be a kill shot.
Doka ran ahead until his escape was covered by the other train cars. Diego put his head down and thought he heard scurrying.
vii.
 
"Are you okay?" Maxim kneeled down and clasped Diego's arm. "We've got to get out of here."
The detective pulled Diego to his feet. The biker felt dizzy as the blood rushed from his head. His mind swam again for a moment. "No, we need to find Angelica."
Maxim wrapped his arm around his shoulders as he forced him ahead. "She's not here anymore. She's gone."
"No. We need to check."
"It's too dangerous. The wolves are out there and I spent all my ammo."
Maxim pulled Diego back to his unmarked sedan, ignoring the biker's protests, but something wasn't right. Diego saw movement behind the dirty car windows. He wiped more blood from his eyes.
When they approached, a brown and white wolf revealed itself from behind the car. It jumped up on top of it, standing and growling menacingly. Its large eyes burned bright orange.
Diego immediately knew who he was looking at. "Mom."
The biker instinctively reached for his wrist but remembered that his knife wasn't there anymore. It was somewhere lost in the woods, likely resting in the corpse of a man.
The three of them stared at one another in a standoff until another wolf's scratchy howl interrupted them. Mom pricked her ears up and faced the source of the challenge. At the tree line on the side of the road, they all saw a heavy wolf with a dark gray coat.
Deborah growled at it. The other wolf returned the sentiment with raised hackles. Mom's sharp teeth snapped ahead as a threat.
The dark wolf broke into a gallop toward Maxim's car. Mom braced herself against the larger animal. They collided in a blistering crash and the momentum pushed them into the grass. Deborah rolled away and scrambled to her feet in a blink.
The two wolves bit at each other with a fierce intensity. They locked down on each other's necks and pulled and tore. Rarely had Diego heard such horrible growling and gurgling, and he knew the two animals were not merely asserting dominance. They were hungry for blood.
The beasts tumbled some more but eventually broke away and resumed growling and gnashing. Deborah moved to flank her opponent, and Diego noticed she had a slight limp. As the two continued to circle each other, they saw the big gray wolf breathing heavily. He turned and revealed a vicious gash across his face that cut across a bloody eye. He was badly wounded.
Mom slowly advanced on the other wolf and it backed away, but then she suddenly stopped and looked behind her. The two animals sniffed at the air in confusion.
Diego looked back and saw a different wolf with a light brown coat sprinting towards them. It was smaller than the others, but it still squared up against Mom aggressively.
Deborah was outnumbered.
The brown and white wolf turned her head back and forth between her enemies and suddenly spun around and ran off. The other animals did not give chase.
The two men relaxed as they stood together, exchanging relieved glances. The big gray wolf was shaking its head and trying to swipe at its closed eye with its paw. He was a mighty specimen with a guttural bark, but he was in pain.
The sound of blaring sirens slowly got louder and the injured wolf lumbered away. Maxim leaned Diego against his car and walked toward the road.
BOOK: The Seventh Sons (Sycamore Moon Series Book 1)
9.89Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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