Courts and Cabals by G.S. D'Moore (classic novels to read txt) 📗

bottling lightning into bullets. It was the supernatural equivalent of the taser, since it took a lot more than fifty-thousand volts to stun a pissed off shifter. It was also great for elementals because it fucked up their concentration. There was a one percent chance the next-gen stun round could kill the mage, but the mages here were kids without any pre-existing conditions. Their hearts could handle the extra voltage.

If he was going into a den of rogue vamps then he opted for liquid UV rounds. The rounds wouldn’t make them burst into flame. It was more like having acid poured into an open wound. It hurt like hell, and as long as they weren’t too far into a blood rage, it would take them down. Without treatment, the UV rounds would make it impossible to heal, and the vamp could die.

A shifter’s Achilles’ heel had always been silver, but not just any run-of-the-mill silver. Silverbane was a specific type of silver that went through an extra magical refinement process. It was hard to make, and was closely regulated since the Revelation. Silverbane would drop a fully-shifted, half ton werebear in a full rage. Vernon only had about fifty of those rounds stacked up in his sub-space pocket, followed by four hundred and fifty rounds of normal silver. Regular, pure-silver rounds were better than nothing, but they weren’t nearly as effective. They would slow a shifter down, but a shifter’s healing would just push the bullets out of their body so they could keep on trucking. Silverbane, like the UV rounds, would stop a shifter’s ability to heal. It would travel through their bloodstream, and once it reached the heart; that was it . . . game over.

Although it was unlikely he’d run across a situation where he needed to use it, one chamber was full of cold iron. It was the ancient weakness of the Fae, but couldn’t be produced by mundane means. A magical process needed to be added to the iron production cycle, and the number of cold iron rounds were limited by arm’s treaties with the Fae High Court. Vernon’s own importance allowed him to carry a large amount of the special ammunition.

Last but not least, the final chamber was loaded with quad-rounds. Quads were for when he had no idea what the hell he was up against. The world was a big place, and that didn’t even take into consideration the other realms – known and unknown – and all the shit that populated them. Quad rounds were a mix of silverbane, cold iron, liquid UV, and enough tranquilizers to take down an elephant. The hope was that they could take down the unknown attacker, or at least slow them down enough for him to get the hell out of there. Even better for humanity, these rounds weren’t controlled by any of the arm’s deals in place with Fae or shifters. That was because they weren’t full of enough cold iron or silverbane to seriously injure any of the known supernaturals. However, quantity had a quality all its own, and putting a few quads into a supernatural would take them down for good.

Vernon thought about switching to quads as they exited the vehicle, but decided against it. The boss wanted him to play nice. He was here as backup. The locals needed to handle this problem. His job was to lend authority to the investigation. He shouldn’t be shooting anyone today.

He fell in behind Sheriff Wood. He couldn’t help but be captivated by the sway of her hips, or the tightness of her uniform pants that made it clear she wasn’t wearing any panties. He quickly averted his eyes when her sixth sense for being ogled was tripped, and drifted over to talk to one of the mundane deputies. The kid was just out of the academy, and had a million and one questions for a UN special agent. If anything, it was a good way to get off the Co-Sheriff’s radar.

The building’s interior oozed wealth and privileged. Richly lacquered wood paneling adorned the walls of an entryway before opening up into a large open-concept space. Equally rich mahogany desks sat atop a royal blue carpet that seemed to conform to your feet like a Tempur-Pedic mattress. The school’s shield and coat of arms held a place of prominence over a stone mantle, where a magical fire burned at the center of the hearth.

“And this is where the secretaries work,” Vernon couldn’t imagine what the offices of the movers and shakers looked like.

In these surroundings, the entourage of law enforcement officers wasn’t as intimidating as he expected. There were six of them total. The mundane Sheriff – a guy who looked like he’d been in the position half his life and would die there – Sheriff Wood, three deputies, and Vernon. Two of them were shifters, all of them were armed – some more obvious than others – and Vernon had the added honor of being a mage. All of that, and he still felt outclassed by the people that were waiting for them.

It didn’t surprise him the school knew about the surprise visit. It was the center of the town’s economy, and probably at the top of the county’s charts for reliable tax income. Someone somewhere had talked, and the administrators were ready for them. The mundane Sheriff greeted them with a familiarity that told Vernon the lawman might have done it himself. Wood was next, and she bowed respectfully to the stately woman at the center of the school’s delegation. The deputies were completely ignored by everyone, and they seemed fine with that.

“May I introduce Supervisory Special Agent Vernon Dud from the Response Division,” Wood made the introductions.

A small, portly man with a combover and sweaty hands greeted him with the typical unease Vernon was accustomed to. He was introduced as the president of the academy – Vernon didn’t bother remembering