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mountain. Neither of us spoke again until we were
sitting across from each other in a squalid little diner in what just about
passed for civilization. He pulled out a folder and pushed a photo across the
table towards me.
    “You know him?”
    I knew him. Shifter. Mercenary.
We’d worked together for a while. Part of an ugly little task force doing ugly
little jobs for an ugly little man.
    “I know him.”
    “Yeah you do. He’s calling
himself Edward Grant these days.”
    I shrugged. A new name. A new
suit. Same old psychopath.
    “He’s working for this man.”
    Another photograph slid across
the table. Another blast from the past.
    “The German? I thought he was
dead.”
    “He got better. You know he’s
not actually German right?”
    I knew. We all knew. We just
didn’t care.
    “Why now?”
    “They’ve taken something. We
need it back.”
    “We?”
    “Leave it Jimmy, I’m not in the
mood for your little crusade.”
    My little crusade? He was
talking about the massacre of nearly everyone I loved. A massacre I had
witnessed and only just survived myself. I struggled to remain calm. I had to
remain calm. This was a rare slip from Kent and I needed to take advantage of
that.
    “My little crusade?”
    Kent templed his fingers and held
my gaze. I sensed that he wanted to tell me. That he needed to tell me.
    “You really don’t have a clue do
you? You still think I’m the enemy?”
    I shook my head, “you’re not the
enemy. But I’m pretty sure you work for them.”
    Kent laughed dismissively, he held
up the two photos, Edward and The German, “these are your enemies. You want
more? The Purity Project is your enemy. The Four Huntsmen are your enemies. You
have more enemies than you could possibly believe.”
    I was confused. These names
weren’t familiar to me.
    “Your enemies are legion. Your
enemies are powerful. But I don’t work for them. I work for your
fairy-fucking-godmother you ungrateful son-of-a-bitch.”
    My head was reeling. It had
spent years trying to find answers and if what Kent was saying was true, I
hadn’t even been close.
    “You want to know why I hate
you? Because you’ve dedicated your life to finding out who your enemies are and
you’ve never once asked who pulled your shaggy ass out from beneath a burning
tree. You don’t know who nursed you back to health when you were more dead than
alive. You never ask how many men died extracting you and your team from the
Sudan when The German left you high and die. Or who bailed you out after you
fucked it all up in Detroit.”
    “I…”
    “And you want to know the best
part? I don’t even know why. You’re a weapon. A blunt instrument. You have your
talents, but you're hardly irreplaceable. I have no idea why you’re so
important to the Daughters...”
    That was a slip and Kent knew
it. The Daughters of Diana . They were a legend. A campfire tale, part of
shifter folklore. But even if they did exist, they were supposed to be our
enemy. If Kent was working for them, why were they looking out for me? Or any
shifter for that matter?
    None of it made sense any
more.  I just wanted to forget about it
all and go back up the mountain. But I couldn’t. Not yet. I had to ask the
question.
    “What have they taken? What do
you need back?”
    Kent slid a third picture across
the table.
    It was Carrie.
     
     
    - X -
     

Chapter 6: Carrie Helena
     
    I woke up in a crisp, white
hospital room that looked like it was straight out of One Flew Over the
Cuckoo’s Nest. It was an environment completely devoid of any kind of warmth or
humanity. A small black and white TV mounted in the corner of the room played
what looked like some kind of retro soap opera. The sort of daytime TV my nanny
used to watch when I was growing up.
    I glanced nervously around and
immediately noticed bars on the windows. I was lying on a spectacularly
uncomfortable mattress. My back ached and I needed to pee. I tried to stand but
couldn’t. I was cuffed to the bed at