INCURSION: Faeblade (Knight's Bane Trilogy Book 2) Read online

  INCURSION: FAEBLADE

  BOOK TWO OF THE KNIGHT’S BANE TRILOGY

  BRYAN DONIHUE

  Edited by

  DAVID CASSIDAY

  Contents

  Kickstarter Supporters

  Prologue

  Mission

  1. Warehouse

  2. Sparkles

  3. Takedown

  4. Debrief

  5. Fae

  6. Uncorruptible

  7. Briefing

  8. Arrival

  9. Audience

  10. Ultimatum

  Investigation

  11. Humans

  12. Suspicions

  13. Massacre

  14. Coverup

  15. Taken

  16. Hunger

  17. Staging

  18. Rescue

  19. Evidence

  20. Revenge

  Trials

  21. Accusations

  22. Inquiry

  23. Judgement

  24. Sacrifice

  25. Mourning

  26. Trolls

  27. Hunting

  28. Gauntlet

  29. Betrayal

  30. Fury

  31. Faeblade

  Epilogue

  Thank You!

  About the Author

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, events, locations, and governmental agencies portrayed are either fictitious, or are used in a fictitious manner. Any similarity does not reflect the actual person, event, agency or location.

  Copyright © 2016 Bryan Donihue. Published by Section 28 Publishing.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without permission in writing from the publisher, Section 28 Publishing.

  Send inquiries to:

  Section 28 Publishing

  2314 Cornelia Ct NW

  Grand Rapids, Mi 49544

  e-mail: [email protected]

  Edited by: David Cassiday

  Cover Design and Interior Layout by: Bryan Donihue

  DEDICATION

  It may seem unusual for a paranormal action book, but this book is first and foremost dedicated to Jesus, the Christ - the only true Savior who can save us from evil. He is the real source of Hope.

  This book is dedicated to my wife, Christina, and my brood of kids. You've put up with many months of my unavailability. Thank you for putting up with me.

  I have a wonderful editor on this project, David Cassiday. He worked diligently with continuity and style to make sure that this story is the best that I can tell it. He made sure that I didn't screw up all the little details, while also making sure that the plot makes sense.

  Any and all of the mistakes that are left in this book are solely mine, usually because I didn't listen to David.

  Thank you to my Beta Readers:

  David Cassiday

  Zachariah Watkins

  Amanda Watkins

  Thank you to my Grand Rapids gaming group, Incursion: Hidden Worlds. They continue to bring these characters to life. They are:

  David Cassiday - John "Spooky" Smith

  Zachariah Watkins - Jesús "God" Rivera

  Amanda Verburg - Rebekah "Boomer" Callahan

  Eulene Freeland - Noelle "Doc" Sorenson

  Simon Verburg - Jonas "Ghost" Vanhof

  Nate Miller - Arthur "Heavy" Murphy

  Scott Coles - Christian "Do-Right" Folsom

  Matt Poferl - William "Scout" Buckhorn

  Based on an original roleplaying game and world created by Bryan Donihue, with Troye Gerard and David Cassiday. The original "Section 28" name idea was from Troye, and he graciously allowed me to twist it to my own particular flavor.

  KICKSTARTER SUPPORTERS

  For this novel, I ran a crowdfunding campaign to pay for some of the (rather minor) expenses incurred in self-publishing. I ran the campaign on Kickstarter (kickstarter.com), and can't say enough good things about their service.

  I had a group of incredible backers in the campaign. Their support made the campaign successful, and I cannot thank them enough!

  Campaign Contributors

  Esoteric Research

  Jeremy Sampsell

  Senior Field Agent

  Amber Bibb

  The Kalafut Family

  Field Agent

  David Cassiday

  Danny Neimeyer

  Jessie Stevenson

  Experienced Monster Hunter

  Eulene Freeland

  Joel Wilkinson

  Andrew Guastella

  Troye Gerard

  Apprentice Monster Hunter

  Ben

  PROLOGUE

  A roiling mass of inky blackness rose from the worn concrete floor. To those in the room, the black seemed to writhe and move organically, as if it was a living thing. After a few seconds, the liquid darkness formed into the rough shape of a doorway anchored to the ground. As it finished forming the portal, a tall, well-groomed man appeared, stepping through the darkness. As he walked into reality, the liquid black appeared to run off of him, leaving no sign that the heavy darkness ever existed.

  The man stood over six feet tall, had dark, almost a coal-black skin, and dark hair that was brushed back. His jet-black mane had scattered gray throughout, and his carefully groomed beard was short, almost a van dyke style, and it showed a great deal more of the salt and pepper look. His thin, angular face spoke of nobility, and his bright green eyes almost glowed with intelligence.

  An expensive, tailored suit accented his fit and trim body, the dark suit offset by the pale blue shirt and royal blue tie. Anchoring the tie was a dazzling sapphire-crusted tie tack that matched the large sapphire in the ornate ring on his right hand. From his perfectly cut shoulders to the razor-sharp creases that brushed his black leather shoes, there was not a seam or crease out of place on his suit.

  Plucking an imaginary piece of lint from his suit jacket, the man looked around the large warehouse floor. Nodding to those present, the man gave a slight grin. As his lips curled, the man standing in front of him could see a hint of a sharp, white tooth. The tall man spoke with a deep, warm voice that seemed to cover a harsh metallic undertone, "Mister Hammond. Report."

  The man in front of him nervously adjusted his tie before he spoke. "Everything is as you commanded, my liege. Your court is waiting for your presence in the hall. I have personally verified the attendees, and even your Knight is waiting for your arrival."

  The gentleman in the custom business suit nodded curtly and spoke. "And the other matter?" His voice was flat and cold.

  The man called Mr. Hammond turned and looked at the woman to his right. She bowed her head slightly and purred, "The preparations have been laid, my lord. When you so order, my people will cause chaos for the other side. We'll keep them off balance while you strike them down. It will be your finest victory. They'll never see this coming."

  The gentleman looked at the woman. Her ethereal beauty and diminutive size belied her warrior prowess. The ginger-haired woman had silver eyes, and was lithe, powerful without being heavily muscled. Her royal blue cocktail dress sparkled and shimmered. The effect was almost hypnotic as the dress clung to every curve on her perfect body. If there was any word that applied to this beautiful woman it was "sensual".

  The gentleman's eyes glowed a deep red for a brief second, before returning to their natural green color. He turned back towards the liquid dark portal and made a small dismissive gesture with his hand. At the wave, the blackness started to fold in and consume itself, sinking to the floor, and quickly disappearing. Turning back around, the gentleman began walking towards the door on the opposite wa
ll of the warehouse.

  Around him, the men and women fell in step behind him. One of the larger men in a tailored suit had an earpiece in his ear. He raised his hand to his mouth and keyed the radio microphone he held in his hand. "This is Galen." The man spoke softly, "The King has arrived. We are en route to the Hall."

  IN A LARGE CONTROL room just outside Langley, Virginia, an alarm was sounding, and one of the on-duty technicians was trying to silence it. After he figured out which alarm was sounding, a few simple keystrokes silenced the audible alarm.

  Frederick Tremblay had worked for the agency for less than six months. After an intensive training period, this was his first shift without his trainer leaning over his shoulder. And this was the first time he had ever seen this alarm section come to life. Grabbing the action binder, he cross-referenced the alarm code, and found the proper response sequence. He keyed the sequence into the terminal in front of him and watched as the alarm location and activation type scrolled in front of him. At the bottom of the screen, a reference code flashed insistently.

  Looking over his notes, Fred paled. He signaled the watch commander and told him about the alarm. The watch commander walked over to Fred's desk as he tapped out a series of messages on his mobile phone. The watch commander leaned down and read the summary of the alarm. Noticing the flashing code, he patted Fred on the shoulder and said, "Good catch. You did everything by the book. I'll note that in the after-action reports."

  The commander's phone rang. Looking at the screen, he nodded and answered, "Yes, Agent Smith. This is Donaldson, I'm the watch commander tonight. We just got a new alarm that was code 'Zulu-Three'." There was a pause, and Donaldson continued, "Yes, sir. The Incursion alarm triggered for the Unseelie Court, sir." Another brief pause, and Donaldson began nodding absently to the person on the other end of the line. He assured the caller, "Yes, sir. I'll start the data collection. I'll have it ready for you by oh-eight-hundred. I'll have the new kid, Tremblay work with me. It'll give him some good experience. Yes, sir. I'll see you in the morning."

  Donaldson looked down at the young rookie smiled. "Lucky break, Fred. You just caught a full-on Incursion alarm. You get to help me begin gathering data and then present it to Agent Smith and the planning team in the morning."

  The color that had been returning to Fred's complexion was again lost as he realized that he was expected to present their findings to THE boss. Donaldson peered down at the screens in front of his young analyst, ignoring the look of horror on Fred's face.

  The watch commander began muttering to himself, "Let's see where this alarm was located. Hmm. Looks like a city in western Michigan. Now, what the heck are the Unseelie doing in Grand Rapids?"

  I

  MISSION

  1

  WAREHOUSE

  INDUSTRIAL PARK, NEWPORT NEWS, VIRGINIA

  Deep in the shadows of the alley squatted a large truck. Over eight feet wide and twenty-three feet long, the matte black truck hid in the darkness, only given away by a slight glint off of the thick bullet resistant windscreen. The roof of the vehicle rose over ten feet above the pavement, and an observant passerby might see several unusual antennas on the roof of the vehicle. If the passerby looked closely at the side doors, they would be able to make out a small decal on the otherwise blacked-out truck. This decal, no larger than the span of a small hand, proclaimed that the vehicle was part of the Department of Homeland Security.

  Inside the truck affectionately nicknamed the "War Wagon," behind a blackout curtain separating the front cabin from the rear, a young man with wild red hair and black-rimmed glasses perched on his thin face sat in front of two computer monitors, both of them filled with multiple camera angles. The glow of the monitors lit his pale face as he looked from monitor to monitor, searching for his target.

  John Q. "Spooky" Smith studied the monitors closely, watching the mass of people in and around the industrial warehouse. Spooky wore a pair of worn jeans, running shoes, and a faded black t-shirt announcing that the federal agent "Will Hack For Food." A light jacket that proclaimed "POLICE" hung on the back of his chair.

  Spooky had been a top-tier analyst at the National Security Agency, and become the liaison with Homeland Security for the PRISM/ECHELON computer sniffing software. The young electronics specialist had been a rising star at the NSA, and had enjoyed being an amateur ghost investigator on his time off. During one of his routine data collection compiles, he saw references to Section 28 and monsters. Dutifully he had compiled the data references and forwarded a report up his command chain.

  The following Monday, his supervisor had pulled him from the ECHELON project, and had threatened to fire him if he didn't back off. Awaiting the young NSA analyst at his house was senior agent from a secret group in Homeland Security, who offered the analyst a job that any paranormal investigator would want. Now the agent called "Spooky" found himself sitting outside a warehouse in Virginia

  Frustrated in his fruitless search for his targets, he touched the switch on his microphone and contacted his team leader. "Ghost, this is Spooky. I've got eyes inside and out. No targets yet. But I can't distinguish much with these cameras. I wish the organizers had sprung for decent cameras."

  A block away, a tall, thin man stood in the shadows of another alley, his long black leather duster and black bolero hiding him from the casual passerby. He did not feel the slight chill of the late autumn night as he waited. The man raised a hand to his throat to activate the mic there. "Copy, Spooky. You can tell them when we take them down." Jonas "Ghost" Vanhof paused momentarily, then clicked his mic again, "Ghost to Little G. What do things look like from up there?"

  On the roof above him, a man in gray and black urban camouflage pattern fatigues knelt on one knee, looking over the edge of the rooftop. Slung across his chest was a bolt action M24-A3 rifle with an oversized scope mounted on the rail and a long, fat can of a suppressor attached to the barrel. The man scanned the building across the street and the alleys to the sides of the building with a bulky pair of binoculars.

  With a touch of a button, Jesús "Little G" Rivera, switched his views from night-vision to infrared vision to standard vision. Looking for anything out of the ordinary, Little G was in position to watch the building that the team was about to enter. He had not seen any of the targets in the time he had been up there.

  The sniper grew up in Colorado and then went to Harvard for Pre-Law. Out of college, he joined the FBI, and a short while later was asked to join the elite Hostage Rescue Team. As a sniper for the HRT, Jesús excelled at his job, and was instrumental at ending several hostage situations before innocent lives were lost.

  After a particularly successful mission against terrorists, Jesús was recruited by Agent Smith for Section 28, the division of the Department of Homeland Security that hunts monsters. As the team sniper, he was given the callsign "God." Unfortunately for him, the team's resident priest refused to call him by that name, instead calling him "Little G". After the team's first mission, the new moniker stuck, and his official call sign changed. Now the former HRT sniper perched on a rooftop, in the dark, hunting vampires. He loved every minute of his job.

  Little G reached up to key his mic and replied to his boss, "Ghost, this is Little G. Lots of foot traffic, but no sign of the targets. They should be here by now. How solid is our intel?"

  After a brief pause, the sniper heard his team leader reply, "This is Ghost. Forecasting gave us eighty-nine percent probability."

  The sniper was about to make a comment about the actual accuracy of the Forecasting Team when something strange caught his eye. Quickly changing back to infrared, he noticed that the three young people approaching the door of the warehouse were showing as colder than normal human body temperature. Gotcha, he thought. He keyed his mic permanently on and called his leader again as he placed the binoculars on the ground and took a hold of the rifle across his chest. He raised the scope on the rifle to his eye, switching the mode to infrared as he began talking.


  "Ghost, this is Little G. Looks like three targets. Approaching the building from the east. Two female, one male." He tracked them down the street with the rifle and continued his commentary. "Seventy-five yards from the entrance. Am I weapons free?"

  The team leader tracked the trio of people that his sniper was talking about. They appeared as a group of young partiers headed for the illegal rave like all the other teens that had passed the alley. He could not help but marvel as the three creatures looked perfectly at home among the crowd of teens. It was his neck on the line, but he trusted his sniper.

  Just as he was about to pass the word to his sniper, Ghost paused. There is something wrong here. He looked over the street and alleys carefully. The veteran monster hunter's gut told him he was missing something. Suddenly he realized what it was. One of the creatures in front of the federal agent kept surreptitiously stealing glances his way. It was almost as if the creature knew they were there.

  He keyed his mic for his sniper, "Little G, this is Ghost. Hold fire. Repeat, Hold fire." He knew the sniper was muttering under his breath right now. He continued talking, "Ghost to Knightmare. My cover is blown. Assume this is a trap. Switch to Plan Two. Repeat. Knightmare is switching to Plan Two. Advise when teams are ready and in position."

  Behind him, the lanky team leader could hear a sharp intake of breath, and a rustle of cloth. The soft metallic "snick" told him that Boomer was cycling the bolt in her shotgun, and the whisper of clothing announced that Doc had drawn her cross from inside her robes. Ghost turned to look at the two agents behind him.

  Rebekah "Boomer" Callahan stood with her back against the stained brick wall. She silently closed her eyes and slowed her breathing, making an effort to calm herself down. Her hands flowed over the bulky shotgun slung over her shoulder, checking the drum mechanism and safety with practiced movements, sight unseen. Finished checking the AA-12 full-auto 12ga shotgun, she checked the rest of her equipment. Her hand glided from her belt pouches full of explosives and detonators to the two grenades she had affixed to her belt. A final check on her body armor verified that she was ready.