The house stayed quiet, other than the pounding of the big cop’s fist. A breeze herded fallen leaves inside the gutters and across the roof. Fall was coming fast. A few days ago everything had still been green. Mike pushed Duncan aside, making eye contact, and tried the door. It swung open. Mike called, “Hello?” Duncan hitched his pants up with his left hand; thinner than Mike’s father had been. But he didn’t complain, and Mike liked that about him, too. He just prayed the waiting beasts didn’t spill out into the hall and sink their claws into the big cop’s throat. He pushed past Duncan, led the way. Situations like this brought back his days in Special Forces, only he didn’t have a well trained team of men to fall back on, to share the burden now. Mike pulled his K-Bar from his boot. He smelled blood. He let his senses lead him, it had been strange before, in the thick of missions no one had ever heard of, and it wasn’t any different now, like a third hand, the third eye, projected in front of his body, an aura unseen that felt everything.
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