Free Terra's Victory (Destiny's Trinities Book 7) by Tracy Cooper-Posey Page A

chair would creak and be fixed with duct tape.
    He looked around to find the calendar. It was over by the door, opened to this month, at least, with a buxom, barely clad blonde straddling a Harley Davidson, her thighs gleaming with oil.
    “This is every cliché I’ve ever seen in the movies, all in one room,” Mia breathed, looking around.
    “We did say somewhere obscure and unexpected,” Wyatt reminded her. “You okay?” She was rubbing her belly.
    Mia nodded. “I get these stitch things. Declan says it’s perfectly normal. And there’s no way I’m going to sit down on anything in here.”
    The door opened, revealing Ronny Alexos’ tall, spare figure and the head of tight, silvered curls. Wyatt relaxed, letting go of the hilt of his knife and letting his coat fall back into place. “Ronny.”
    “Right on time.” Ronny stepped in and looked at Mia. “You must be Shamira.”
    “Mia,” she corrected. “What is this place?”
    “Frankie’s Auto Repair Shop, Clay City, Indiana. Population was just over eight hundred, two days ago.”
    “What happened two days ago?”
    Ronny grinned. “We got ourselves a convention.” He pushed open the door, which had once been white but was now an ancient yellow, with dark stains around the door knob and frame. “Come and see.”
    They followed him out of the office into a slightly neater front shop area, with a counter and cash register and new tires stacked everywhere. There were images of sports cars framed and hanging on the walls.
    Ronny moved around the counter, over to the door that gave access to the workshop beyond. There was a window that would let the front office staff look into the garage. Venetian blinds were drawn over it.
    Wyatt found his hand was back on his knife once more.
    Ronny opened the door and looked at him. “Relax, you’re among very good company,” he said and held the door aside for Mia to go through.
    “Me, first,” Wyatt said, his pulse zooming.
    She rolled her eyes at him. “I’m fine,” she told him. Except she had her hand in the deep pocket of her coat, where she kept her emergency Glock 26, which was small enough to slip into the pocket and not weigh down the hang of the coat.
    Mia stepped through the door and Ronny went next, leaving Wyatt to follow up. He hurried through, almost tripping over Ronny’s big feet, looking around quickly to size up the room beyond.
    Then he came to a halt.
    There were no cars in the workshop, which had four bays with glass doors rolled down and locked for the night. Instead, the big workshop was almost completely filled with people, who had been standing and talking among themselves.
    As they entered, everyone turned to look at them.
    Mia glanced around the room, as startled as Wyatt felt. “All human. Not a supernatural among them.”
    “You can call them human if you want,” Ronny said. “That’s not what we call ourselves, though.”
    “What do you call yourselves?” Wyatt asked.
    “Hunters.”
    A grin passed from one person to the next, moving around the room like a strobe light. They appreciated the sentiment.
    “All of you? You’re all hunters?” Wyatt asked.
    “Every man jack,” Ronny said.
    Hunters worked solo or in pairs, staying aloof from humans and other hunters to minimize detection. This gathering, this convention , was staggering. “Where did you all come from?” Wyatt asked, feeling winded.
    Ronny shrugged. “Everywhere.”
    Mia picked up Wyatt’s hand and squeezed. “They’re here to help us,” she breathed.
    Ronny pointed at her. “Give the little lady a drink.”
    “I don’t…get it,” Wyatt said helplessly. His brain had turned to sludge at the sight of so many hunters standing in the same room together.
    Ronny threw out his hands, his dark eyes twinkling. “You said the Grimoré sense the trinities if they get too close together. Just as radioactive rods in close proximity can set off a reaction, right?”
    “That’s an analogy I haven’t heard