Free Summoner of Storms by Jordan L. Hawk

the side, staggered to his feet,
and ran for the woods. One of his former brethren broke off after
him, but a shot from Tiffany dropped it. The soldier vanished into
the woods. What would happen to him? Would he go AWOL and try to
disappear, or return to base and have another demon shoved in
him?
    Or would SPECTR just kill him for knowing too
much?
    “Another vehicle is coming,” Gray warned.
    Of course. Because they didn’t have enough
problems.
    John scooped up his Glock. Another werewolf
rushed at him, but this time he was ready. He exorcised it before
it reached him, Gray snapping up the NHE like a shark after a bit
of tossed chum. The soldier reacted much as the first, stumbling
away in horror as she realized just how much the lycanthrope had
altered her thinking.
    A big truck with a rugged grille guard roared
up the drive, its shocks taking the potholes easily. A werewolf
darted out in front of it, only to be smashed aside and crushed
beneath an oversized tire.
    “Dad!” Tiffany exclaimed. “Don’t shoot. It’s
my father!”
    The truck came to a halt, its big engine
vibrating the air. An older African American man flung open the
passenger side door and leaned out. “Tiffany! Get in!”
    Tiffany tossed her keys to John. “Take the
sedan and follow us. Hurry!”
    The engine revved to life as Gray piled into
the passenger seat beside him. The truck roared back down the
drive, and John followed, not even bothering to fasten his seatbelt
first. The sedan jolted as it clipped yet another werewolf with a
fender. Then the circling pack and the double wide disappeared
behind them in a cloud of gravel and dust.

Chapter 7
     
    “So, Starkweather,” Tiffany said, “what the hell is going on with you?”
    It was a good question. If only he had a good
answer. Or any answer.
    They’d stopped for the evening at yet another
off-brand hotel not far from the interstate, and checked into
adjoining rooms. John assumed Tiffany used the time alone in the
truck to fill in her father on everything.
    Goddess give them both peace, they’d suffered
a lot of loss in the last few hours. Devon didn’t quite have the
steely outer shell routine down as well as Tiffany. His eyes were
red from crying and when he sank down on the edge of the bed, he
moved slowly, as if expecting pain.
    Instead of answering Tiffany, John held out
his hand to her father. “I’m sorry for your loss, sir.”
    Devon took it; his handshake was dry and
firm. “Thank you. Renée...well, she would have said the work is
more important than any man’s grief. But we didn’t always agree,
not even when I was a wet-behind-the-ears operative, let alone
after we were married.”
    “Don’t avoid my question, John,” Tiffany
said. She’d secured the room’s only chair, leaving Caleb near the
door, and John standing awkwardly near the second bed. “You
exorcised two lycanthropes without a circle. I might not be able to
sense etheric energy, but they went from slavering possessed to
ordinary people in two seconds flat. You did something.”
    “I’m not denying it.” John spread his hands
to either side. “I just don’t know how . I never could
before—hell, I’ve never even heard of anyone just ripping out an
NHE with his bare...well, not hands, exactly, but you know what I
mean. I’ve got no idea why I’d be able to now.”
    And frankly, it scared him. His talent had
been a constant in his life since his teenaged years. No matter
what else changed, his ability to sense and manipulate etheric
energy never altered once he finished puberty. Why the hell would
it suddenly go crazy now?
    “I, um, have an idea.” Caleb shuffled his
feet uncomfortably. “You know how my TK was barely strong enough to
move a paper coffee cup, right? Then Gray moved in, and now I can
do a lot more.”
    John nodded. Out of the corner of his eye, he
tried to get a bead on Devon’s reaction, to see what the man might
think of his daughter’s decision to turn Gray loose on the