Wrath of the Fallen: An Urban Fantasy Adventure (Heaven's Dark Soldiers Book 2) by Steve Gilmore

Author:Steve Gilmore [Gilmore, Steve]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Liquid Mind Publishing
Published: 2021-09-14T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 22

As the confined space filled with the telltale odor of stale gun powder, and the fuse of the old school fragmentary grenade violently hissed away like the wick on a firecracker, I waited with clenched teeth for the ensuing deafening explosion of searing shrapnel and splintered mayhem.

And although I was pretty sure it was going to hurt like hell, I was also pretty sure that literally being at ground zero of a detonating frag wouldn’t do all that much damage to me. Or Rooster for that matter.

Doc, on the other hand, was a different story. As such, I made damn sure she was fully concealed by the cloak as I wrapped my arms around her as tightly as I possibly could.

Fully prepared for a truly horrific explosion, I was more than a bit surprised to instead hear a soft fizzle followed by a distinct popping sound indicating that the fuse burned out before igniting the primer. And, as I knew from experience with old-ass munitions, the olive drab orb was instantly rendered to nothing more than a nostalgic pineapple-shaped paperweight.

“Dagnabbit!” a male voice bellowed from the cabin above us in a raspy, gruff tone. “Goldurn fuse cap! Dangit all.” Regaining his composure, our mysterious assailant huffed a few times and cleared his throat. “All right, listen here, you sumbitches. I want hands in the air. Ain’t no need to make this any worse on yourselves. Y’all hear me?”

Releasing my death grip on Erin, I rose to my feet to find Rooster curled into the fetal position next to his pizza oven. Upon hearing the cartoon character-like voice of the man upstairs, he jumped to his feet and shook his head in disbelief. “No freaking way. Tuck? Tuck Corbin? Is that you?”

“You’re dagburn right it’s me, you infernal jaybird. I finally got you right where I want you. Now, I’m a’ coming down there on the count of ten. And you best not try any of that funny stuff now, boy. I’m taking you in.”

“John,” Erin asked, trying to figure out what the hell was happening, “Why is Foghorn Leghorn trying to kill you?”

“Seriously,” I grumbled, “You know this friggin guy?”

“Yes. Yes, I do,” he said, drawing his pair of signature Glock pistolas from somewhere deep in the bowels of his bomber jacket as he cautiously maneuvered toward the trapdoor.

“Well, who the hell is he?”

“One of twelve members of an ancient society of liderc hunters. And trust me, we do not want him down here.”

“Can’t you just sticky pad portal us out of here?”

“Not so much,” he muttered, “The Crow Nest wards are airtight. We need to get outside before I can open a portal.”

I nodded. “All right. I’ll get rid of him. Cover me.”

As Doc instinctively slid her H&Ks from the dueling holsters on her shoulder harness and assumed the ready position, I boldly placed myself at the bottom on the stone steps.

Clearing my throat, I said, “Attention, asshole in the cabin.”

“You ain’t O’Dargan,” he grunted in response, still concealed somewhere in the shadows at the top of the stairs.

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