Chapter 112 - Steel and Lightning

  Alex flew through the night sky, his eyes scanning the ground below for any sign of his strike team. He'd left Marion behind at Harvard, left her exhausted and vulnerable, and every second that ticked by made his chest tighten with worry. The howling from Harvard Yard had intensified in the past few minutes, and he could see flashes of combat along the walls even from this distance.

  Hold on, Marion. I'm coming.

  There—movement on the street below. A tight formation of fighters moving at double-time along the Charles River, heading northwest. Alex descended rapidly, recognizing Johnson's distinctive bulk at the head of the column.

  "Alex!" Johnson called out as Alex touched down beside the moving formation. "Thank God. We've been hauling ass to get here."

  "Status?" Alex demanded, falling into step with them.

  "Twelve fighters, all tier five. Anderson, Clark, Briggs, Martinez, and eight more of our best. We came loaded for bear." Johnson gestured at the weapons his people carried, and assortment of swords, spears, a few crossbows, and Alex knew four of the team could cast range spells. It was a good mix of skills. "What's the situation?"

  "Bad and getting worse," Alex said. "Cameron's engaging the main werewolf force at the north wall, but there are smaller groups hitting the east and west sides. We're going in from the south, hitting the eastern group from their flank. It’s time for fast and brutal, people. We need to relieve pressure on the defenders before they break."

  "Rules of engagement?" Anderson asked from a few paces back.

  "No mercy," Alex said, voice flat. "These things are infectious. One bite and you're one of them. Marion can Cleanse the curse if it's caught early, but she's already exhausted. Every werewolf we put down is one less potential vector for the infection. We kill them all."

  If anyone had moral qualms about that order, they didn't voice them. These were his veteran fighters. They knew what was at stake. They were ready to follow orders and do what needed doing.

  As far as Alex was concerned, once they’d learned Marion couldn’t Cleanse werewolves once they’d transformed, that was it. Even if they could have been cured, he might have given the same orders under the circumstances. But since there was nothing that could be done for them anyway, it was better to take them down, put them out of what had to be misery, if there was even anything human left inside those creatures.

  It’s what he’d want his team to do for him, if it came to it.

  "Double time!" Alex called out, launching himself back into the air. "We're two minutes out!"

  The team surged forward, their enhanced Stamina letting them maintain a pace that would have been impossible before the Event. Alex flew ahead, scouting, and got his first clear view of the eastern approach to Harvard Yard.

  A group of werewolves, maybe a dozen or so, were clustered at the base of the east wall, working together to reach the top so they could clear a path into the compound beyond. Some were boosting each other up to attack the defenders on top, while others just leaped upward to engage their human foes. A few bodies already lay on the ground on both sides of the wall. The Harvard defenders were fighting desperately, but they were outmatched.

  Alex raised his hand and cast Lightning Bolt, sending his spell sizzling into the center of the fighting. The purple energy streaked down from the sky and slammed into the largest werewolf in the group, a hulking beast that had been coordinating the assault. It convulsed, fur smoking, and collapsed. The other werewolves scattered, looking up in shock and confusion.

  "Now!" Alex shouted to his team below. "Hit them hard!"

  His fighters rounded the corner of a building at a full sprint, weapons ready. The werewolves, caught between Alex's aerial assault and the ground team's charge, tried to regroup, but they'd lost the initiative.

  His troops maintained a tight formation as they rushed in, just like they’d trained for. The werewolves were fast, strong, and smart, but they lacked the cohesion Alex’s troops brought to the battlefield. That might be just enough to turn the tide. Johnson’s sword took a werewolf's head clean off before it could react. Anderson was right behind him, her spear punching through another werewolf's chest.

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  Alex cast again, this time targeting a pair of werewolves trying to flank his team. The Lightning Bolt arced between them, leaving both twitching and smoking. Clark finished one with a brutal overhead swing of his war hammer. Martinez put an Ice Bolt into the other's skull.

  The werewolves realized they were being slaughtered. Three of them broke and ran, abandoning their pack mates. Alex let them go. They'd fled away from the Yard, which made them a problem for another day. Sooner or later, they’d need to take down each and every werewolf, or the curse would spread again. For tonight, though? Saving Marion was what mattered most.

  The remaining werewolves fought with desperate ferocity. One managed to bite Clark on the arm before Briggs decapitated it. Another took down one of Alex's fighters, a younger recruit named Thompson, tearing out his throat before Anderson could intervene.

  "Thompson's down! The bastards killed him!” someone shouted.

  "Leave him! We’ll return for the dead later,” Alex ordered, his voice hard. He hated giving that order, but they couldn't afford to stop. Not now. "Keep pushing forward! We need to reach the gate!"

  His team obeyed, their momentum carrying them through the last of the werewolf resistance. In less than two minutes, the eastern approach was clear. Bodies littered the ground, both human and werewolf. Alex's forces had lost Thompson, and Clark would need Marion to Cleanse that bite soon, or he’d turn. But they'd won. The eastern group was routed.

  "Johnson, get Clark secured!" Alex called down. "That bite needs Cleansing ASAP. Anderson, form up the rest. We're going in!"

  Above them, Harvard defenders were already working to open one of the gates. The heavy steel door swung inward with a groan, and Alex's team poured through. Johnson had Clark by the good arm, half-dragging him along. The man's face was pale, but he was still moving. They had time yet before he turned, right? Probably, anyway. Alex wracked his memory for everything Catherine and Cameron had said about the werewolf bites. Some people transformed right away, but most took hours to change.

  Alex flew ahead, scanning for threats, his mind still focused on Marion. She was supposed to be in the infirmary, safe behind guards. He needed to see her, needed to know she was—

  A massive howl split the night, coming from the north side of the Yard. It was followed by screams. Alex shot upward for a better view and felt his blood turn to ice. The north wall was being overrun. Dozens of werewolves were pouring over it, overwhelming the defenders through sheer numbers. Bodies fell from the walkway as the werewolves savaged the guards. The defensive line was collapsing, people falling back in disorder.

  And at the center of it all, a massive golden-furred shape was tearing through defenders like they were made of paper. Even from this distance, Alex could see it was enormous. It had to be eight feet tall, maybe more. Tier eight, too. That had to be the pack leader.

  But where was Cameron? He was supposed to be holding the north wall!

  Alex's heart seized as he spotted a gaping hole in the side of a building just north of the Yard. A Cameron-sized hole. Rubble and debris spilled from the breach, and the little he could see of the interior was a wreck, furniture and structural supports blasted aside by something hitting with tremendous force.

  "Oh God," Alex whispered. "Cameron..."

  He wanted to go check, wanted to see if his friend was alive, but he couldn't abandon the people here. Not with that pack leader about to break through, not with his entire team depending on him for orders, and especially not with Marion still in the Yard.

  Alex forced himself to focus. "Johnson!" he shouted down at his team. "Form our people up in the center of the Yard, forty feet back from the north wall! Set up a defensive formation to halt the werewolf advance and protect the civilians!"

  "Where’s Cameron?" Anderson called back.

  "He’s down! We’ll need to deal with this ourselves. Move!"

  His fighters obeyed without question. Most of them had been police, before the Event, and their years of training kept them moving forward even through their shock and fear. They formed a tight line, shields locked, weapons ready. Eleven fighters now, after losing Thompson in the eastern battle, and Clark was wounded badly enough that he wasn’t going to be much help. Eleven fighters against what had to be at least thirty werewolves pouring over the wall, led by that golden monster. The odds were terrible.

  But they were all that stood between the pack and hundreds of helpless civilians. Between the pack and Marion.

  “Clark, get your ass into the infirmary!” Alex shouted, pointing out the direction. The wounded man took off at a job, holding his injured arm pressed against his side.

  Alex descended to hover just above his line, hands already crackling with purple energy. "Hold this line! We stop them here, people!”

  The werewolves crashed through the last of the north wall's defenders and charged into the Yard proper. At their head, the massive golden werewolf let loose another howl, a sound of triumph and bloodlust. He had good reason. He’d blasted through the defenders like they weren’t even there, and from the evidence that pack leader had taken Cameron out of the fight, too.

  “Time for some payback for what you did to my friend, I think.” Alex raised both hands and cast Lightning Bolt with everything he had.

  The bolt struck the pack leader square in the chest, but the creature barely staggered. It fixed its glowing eyes on Alex, lips pulling back in a feral smile.

  Then it charged, and the horde came with it.

  "Brace yourselves!” Alex shouted. "Here they come!”