The Adventures of Grave by G. S. D'Moore

Author:G. S. D'Moore [D'Moore, G. S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B0C1DB29QH
Published: 2023-04-24T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

“I think I see one,” the voice over the radio chirped. “I can’t tell if it’s red. This looks like more of a cranberry. Are we looking for fire-engine red, or does any type of red . . .?”

“Kim,” a new voice interrupted. “Shut the fuck up.”

“I’m just trying to get the job done right,” the voice remained peppy and cheerful. “So . . . you didn’t really answer my question. Fire-engine red or . . .?”

“Keep the bullshit off this frequency,” a third voice growled, and the previous voices felt their assholes pucker and their eggs crawl deeper inside them. “Give your location, the direction of travel, and, if you spot it, the last three of the plate number.”

“Yes, ma’am . . . um . . . I’m on the corner of Delor and Ray, and it’s heading north; no, make that northeast. I didn’t grab the plate number, sorry,” the first voice relayed.

The speaker, Kim, a therian with rabbit ears and a tale that were easily concealed under a hoodie and sweatpants, braced for the Chosen who’d reprimanded her to take a chunk out of her hide. Instead, there was a click, and the radio was silent.

“Kim,” the second voice returned.

“What, Heather?” Kim asked.

“Shut the fuck up.”

Gisella ignored the bickering that followed on the radio frequency as she switched to another . . . and another . . . and another. Right now, on the streets of Arch City, hundreds of therians were on the hunt. Only the Chosen and a few trusted underlings new the truth. The rest only knew Pack wanted what was in the red coupe with a license plate ending in S, six, nine.

The large bear-woman wasn’t anywhere near Delor and Ray, and her giant, tinted SUV was more than a little conspicuous to be heading into the city. She didn’t have any active warrants, but as her earlier conversation with Ranger showed, she was a known associate of Pack; and the cops didn’t need an excuse to have someone follow her all night. If she was stalking some dude, it was harassment; but if the feds or capes did it, it was keeping the community safe. The hypocrisy of that bullshit was ripe.

She kept on the heading she’d been on for the last twenty minutes; tracking down another lead, and switched to a separate channel. She might not be in that area, but another Chosen was.

“Valentina,” she snapped. Even after a few hours, speaking the bull-woman’s name left a sour taste in her mouth.

“One minute,” was the reply, followed by a bang and a short scream before the unmistakable sound of something hard hitting something soft. “The sighting on Taft was a bust. Heading back to my truck now.”

“I’ve got another one heading your way. It was spotted heading north on Ray,” the Chosen were all outfitted with a GPS system in their vehicles.

But it was more than that. Apparently, it had been used by the military in war zones to track

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