Eater of Lives(SPECTR #4) by Jordan L. Hawk Page A

had any paint left on their
weathered sides.
    John threw the vehicle into park and climbed
out. Agents in body armor ran past, moving to encircle the house
and cut off any escape. Kaniyar stood by her SUV, barking orders
into a headset. When she saw John, she motioned sharply to him.
“Starkweather! Send Jansen in on point. You and McNamara back him
up. Ward, Gregg, Dunne, Brown, go with them.”
    Caleb glanced around nervously as the other
agents formed up. “Wow. We’re not taking any chances, are we?”
    “No.” John didn’t like sending Caleb in
first, but Kaniyar was right. Gray had the best chance of any of
them of sensing the wendigo first, before it got the drop on
them.
    “We don’t have all day, people!” Kaniyar
yelled. “Move!”
    “Go,” John said, and made for the front door
into the building. The wendigo had to know they were there by now.
With any luck, it would try to hole up instead of taking off
through a window.
    They ran for the building, and in such close
proximity, John felt the rise of etheric energy beneath
Caleb’s skin, crackling like static. The pressure around him
dropped, and the fragrance of ozone and sandalwood incense curled
through the air.
    Caleb—or maybe Gray—flung open the door. The
dingy hall led onto closed, numbered doors and a narrow stairwell.
The place stank of mildew and sweaty feet.
    “Door to door,” John started to say, but
Caleb half-turned—and no, it definitely wasn’t Caleb anymore, his
eyes black as obsidian globes, lightning in their depths. Gray’s
nostrils flared, and his lip curled back, exposing a fang.
    Then he darted for the stairwell.
    Shit. “Come on!” John yelled, and charged
after. But he couldn’t match the drakul’s speed; Gray vanished up
the narrow turns, making for the upper part of the house. John
cursed and took the stairs two at a time. Behind him, the rest of
the team pounded up the old wooden steps, swearing beneath the
clank of weapons and gear.
    A scream echoed from above: female, but with
an animalistic edge. Third floor—of course.
    By the time they reached the top, Sean gasped
for breath, his face gone red. A door off the landing stood open.
The inhabitant had papered over the windows, and only the faintest
light showed through at the edges. Stale air wafted out of the
door, stinking like an open grave.
    John skidded to a halt in the doorway,
uncomfortably aware the light from the hall made him a silhouetted
target to anything inside. “Federal agents!” he yelled.
    There came a low rumble, like distant
thunder, accompanied by an oddly canine whine. Was there an injured
dog inside? Except it didn’t sound like a dog. It sounded like…
    “Ghoul,” Gray said, disgust lacing the word.
“One you can exorcise.”
    John risked reaching inside and feeling for a
wall switch. The light came on, revealing a filthy room packed with
dirty laundry and crusty dishes. Cockroaches scattered in all
directions, and Sean swore furiously, stamping at the few who made
for the hall. A woman in tattered clothing several sizes too large
for her huddled against the iron bulk of an ancient radiator,
whimpering in fear.
    Gray stood in the midst of the squalor like
an avenging angel observing a particularly disappointing pit of
corruption. His clean scent cut through the reek, and wind stirred
his long hair and ruffled his leather coat, despite the close, dead
air of the room.
    Goddess, he was beautiful.
    Gray vanished, folding back into Caleb like
an origami rose. Caleb looked disgusted as well, although probably
for very different reasons.
    “The hell? All this for a fucking ghoul?”
Tiffany demanded from behind John.
    John sighed and motioned to Sean. “See to
her,” he said, nodding at the whining woman. “Or do you want to
take her to HQ?”
    “Might as well. We’ve got the manpower, and I
don’t particularly want to hang out in here while doing an
exorcism.” Sean shook his head. “Damn it, didn’t the cop bother to
check if