‘Are you?’ bellowed the Dogman. ‘Do creatures like you ever feel sorrow? Are you capable of feeling anything other than the trickle of blood running down your lips?’
Liz felt the first stirrings of anger at the Dogman’s words. There was no possible justification in blaming her for Griffiths’ misfortune. ‘I don’t know what –’
‘You don’t know what Griffiths’ death has to do with you? Is that it? Well, maybe you had nothing to do with his death directly. But I’ve had my fill of senseless deaths. You may not have killed my friend, but you’ve killed plenty of others. I’ve seen you do it. And monsters like you just carry on killing. Well, it’s time to put a stop to your killing spree.’ He raised his rifle, ready to fire.
Llewelyn muscled forward and grabbed the barrel of the gun, forcing it down. ‘I said cool it.’ There was controlled anger in his voice, and the threat of violence.
The Dogman narrowed his eyes. Rock switched attention to Llewelyn and began jumping up, snapping its jaws close to his face.
‘Are you going to call that dog off?’ asked Llewelyn quietly. ‘Or do I have to put a bullet through its skull?’
‘You’d choose to kill Rock instead of her?’ shouted the Dogman in fury. ‘You’d take the side of that murderer?’
Llewelyn stood his ground calmly. ‘I’d choose to kill a dog before a human anytime.’
The Dogman snatched his arm out of Llewelyn’s grasp with a savage jerk. ‘Well here’s another choice for you to make, then. Me or her. A human or a vampire!’
‘Don’t be an idiot,’ said Jones.
Liz stepped between the two men. ‘Stop this! There’s no need for any fighting. I came here to prove to you that I’m not the murderer. In fact, I know who the vampire is.’
Llewelyn turned to her. ‘You do? Who?’
‘It’s one of Major Hall’s men. A para.’
‘You expect us to believe that?’ said the Dogman. ‘Major Hall is a good commander. His men are brave soldiers. You’re just saying that to save your own skin.’
But Jones was nodding. ‘Do you have proof of this, Liz?’
‘Yes.’
‘Don’t listen to her!’ shouted the Dogman. ‘She’s a liar!’
Jones rounded on him. ‘Just leave it, Hughes. Give Liz a chance to prove her story. If what she’s saying is true, then we need to act.’
Evans still had his gun raised uncertainly. ‘Yeah, let’s do that,’ he said. ‘Let’s hear what she has to say.’
‘No. I’ve already heard enough.’ The Dogman gave Jones a vicious shove.
Jones tumbled to the ground. He broke his fall with a roll and was back on his feet in a few seconds, but the Dogman had his gun aimed at Liz again. Rock bounded toward her, jaws slavering, barking frantically, leaping to the attack. The Dogman’s fingers curled around the trigger.
Liz knew what she had to do.
She didn’t have to make a decision. The metamorphosis began even before she was consciously aware of it. Time slowed to a crawl as awareness of her change grew.
Her teeth came through first, like two piercing spikes dropping into place, their tips sharpened to fine points. Her fingernails extended into razor-tipped blades. Her limbs throbbed with electric power, as the skin that covered them crackled into cold armour. The protective covering spread from her fingers along her hands, fitting like gloves, then sleeves, until it cloaked her entire body. With it came strength, flooding every fibre, muscle and bone.
Her eyes widened, her vision taking on a cool sharpness. She could see every hair on Rock’s face, see the drool that glistened on the dog’s teeth. Her hearing grew so keen she could hear the breathing of Jones, Hughes and Evans. She could almost feel the beating of their hearts. And she could smell their sweat and other body odours. The rich chemical cocktail of male pheromones, adrenaline and musk washed over her in a powerful stimulant.
The transformation from human to vampire had taken just seconds. It had never happened so quickly before.
But still, she had been too slow. Before she could even move, a shot rang out, deafening at close quarters, every nuance of the sound amplified by her vampire brain. The dog stopped its attack and skidded to the ground, its front paws splayed, its eyes rolling wild with terror. An arc of fine blood sprayed from the animal’s side as it crashed forward and rolled across the grass. Rock lay dead before her.
Liz’s nostrils flared at the overpowering scent of blood. She turned her gaze to look at Jones.
His SA80 assault rifle was in his hands, the barrel still pointed where he had fired at the dog.
The Dogman’s face crumpled in anguish. ‘No!’
Time oozed slowly, like thick treacle as Liz watched, weighing the risks. She could move at lightning speed, but would it be fast enough? Three men held guns. She couldn’t take them all. The Dogman was the primary threat. She turned to face him.
Already his gun was aimed at her.
She started to move toward him.
But as she moved, the Dogman turned. Slowly his rifle swung in Llewelyn’s direction.
Liz powered forward, desperate to stop him.
Jones was on his feet, suspended in motion, trapped in time. His SA80 was braced against his shoulder in firing position, his finger still on the trigger after shooting the dog. He swung it toward the Dogman.
Evans looked on from the side, bewildered, his own gun still pointing at Liz.
The Dogman held his weapon aimed squarely at Jones and the two men faced each other. ‘You killed Rock,’ said the Dogman. The words came slowly to Liz, like bubbles rising to the surface of the ocean.
Llewelyn nodded. ‘I’ll kill you too if I have to. Now drop your gun.’
The Dogman shook his head. ‘I won’t.’
Liz forced herself to slow to a halt. She breathed, resisting the overwhelming urge to lash out. To lash out at someone, anyone, and take their life. The desire to suck blood was all consuming.
I must feed, whispered a voice in her head. Let me feed.
But she knew that voice well enough now. Silence! she commanded it.
The Dogman was speaking again. ‘You have to choose,’ he told Jones. ‘Kill her or kill me. There’s no other choice. One of us must die.’
‘No,’ shouted Liz. ‘No one has to die.’
She began to spin, whirling her leg out to catch the Dogman’s gun with her foot. If she could disarm him, she could bring this confrontation to a halt. But before she impacted, Jones’ gun fired again. The barrel jerked in his hand as it spat out a bullet, and a spent case jumped out. The Dogman’s body began to crumple even before she caught him with her foot. Blood splashed against her face like rain.
She brought herself to shocked stillness.
The Dogman fell in front of her, his gun sliding to the ground. His eyes registered surprise.
Liz remained motionless, watching as the man died. It took all her willpower to resist the compulsion to fall on him and suck the blood from his dying body.
She breathed deeply and forced herself to return to human form. Her body hungered for blood, but she denied herself the craving. She emerged gasping for breath, exhausted by her brief spell in vampire form. Her limbs felt suddenly drained, and she bent over, breathless. Her energy was spent, and she dropped to her knees.
Before her, the Dogman’s eyes dimmed and closed, and Liz knew that he was dead, just like his dog.
Jones lowered his gun, but Evans still held his. He shifted aim between the Corporal and Liz, then back again, not knowing which to fear most.
Jones spoke to him calmly. ‘Shoot me if you must,’ he said. ‘But I did what I had to do. The Dogman forced my hand. It was like he said, someone had to die.’
Hesitatingly, Evans lowered his gun. ‘Then I hope you made the right choice.’
Jones looked to Liz. ‘Did I?’
‘You did,’ she said, ‘and I’ll prove it to you. But I’ll need your help.’
Chapter Sixty-Six
Glastonbury
Tor, Somerset, full moon
Rose sat cross-legged close to the fire, Nutmeg lying with her head in her lap, watching as the flames flickered, sending sparks soaring high into the darkening sky. The others sat around the fire, Seth stretched out on the ground, his ankle badly swollen.
Against Chris’ advice, Josh had ordered Rose and Ryan to collect firewood and build the biggest bonfire they could manage. They had piled the wood inside the ruined stone tower at the highest point of the flat-topped Tor. The roofless stump of the church made a natural chimney, and black smoke twisted up inside its walls. A cool breeze rushed in from the open doorways of the tower to feed the flames, and shadows danced inside the old stone walls.
‘Burn, baby, burn!’ said Josh, rubbing his hands together as the clear, starry night unfurled and the warmth of the day gave way to a crisp chill wind. ‘You can see for miles from up here, can’t you?’
Rose looked out through one of the open stone arches. The countryside was fading to grey now, but before the evening had closed in, it had been possible to see for many miles in every direction. Chris had been right. Anyone within a large area would know they were here, right at the top of the hill, completely exposed. There was no point arguing with Josh, however. It would only end with someone getting hurt, and Rose was tired of that.
‘Hey,’ he said to her. ‘You should grab a beer.’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t –’
He cut her off. ‘Yeah, yeah, you don’t drink, I know. Boring. Well tonight, you’re going to drink. In fact, you’re going to do whatever I tell you. Got it?’
She looked away.
‘Fetch the girl a beer, Brittany!’
Brittany lobbed a stick into the fire, sending more sparks flying. ‘She can fucking fetch one herself. I’m not her maid.’
Josh jumped to his feet and strode over to where his girlfriend was sitting. He seized her roughly by the arm and jerked her to her feet. ‘That’s not very accommodating. You have to learn to be nicer to our guests.’ He shoved her toward the stash of beer cans and she reluctantly grabbed one.
‘Here,’ she said to Rose, passing her the can.
As Rose took it from her, Brittany reached out, raking Rose’s arm with her long fingernails. ‘Oh, sorry,’ she said. She bent low and whispered in Rose’s ear. ‘That’s just a taste of what you’re going to get if you make any moves on Josh. I’ve seen the way he looks at you, you dirty little slut.’
Rose rubbed at her arm and put the beer can beside her, unopened.
Brittany returned to her place and Josh seemed not to have noticed anything. He was all smiles. ‘So, big night tonight, Chris. Anyone know what time the moon rises?’
‘It will be in about an hour,’ said Chris. ‘Every day it rises approximately half an hour later than the day before.’
‘Is that right?’ said Josh. ‘You know what, Chris? I really hope you don’t turn into a wolf, because you are such a well-informed dude. In fact, if you’re not a werewolf, I think we’re going to keep you with us. I don’t know how we’d manage without you.’
‘Hey,’ said Ryan, ‘You promised that if Chris and Seth don’t turn into werewolves, then they’re free to go.’
‘If they don’t turn? You’re not sounding as confident as you were earlier, Ryan, mate.’
‘When they don’t turn,’ said Ryan firmly. ‘You said we’ll all be free to go to Hereford.’
‘I did. Are you saying I’m not a man of my word?’
‘No. But now you’re saying that you might keep us here.’
‘Well, perhaps I can find a way to persuade you. It’s certainly been a lot of fun having you guys around. Isn’t that right, Brittany?’
Brittany said nothing, just hugged herself tight with her thin arms.
Josh threw an empty can in her direction. ‘Am I the only one having any fun around here?’ he asked, standing up. ‘This is supposed to be the party to end all parties. Come on, let’s drink, let’s make some music!’
The flute player began to play an upbeat folk tune.
Josh stamped his foot. ‘That’s what I’m talking about. Let’s dance!’ He grabbed Rose by the hand and pulled her up. ‘You do know how to dance, don’t you?’
Across the fire, Brittany’s face turned as dark as her eye shadow and she glared at Rose.
‘I don’t want to dance,’ said Rose, drawing away from him.
‘Yeah?’ said Josh angrily. He pulled her back. ‘Well perhaps you don’t have any choice. Perhaps you have to do exactly what I fucking tell you.’
Ryan rose to his feet. ‘You leave her alone! Don’t you dare touch her.’
Josh’s face was almost black with anger. ‘No one tells me what to do, Ryan. I give the orders around here. You are very slow to catch on. I think you need to be taught a very serious lesson.’
Two of Josh’s friends jumped up and grabbed hold of Ryan. They seized his arms and twisted them behind his back.
But Ryan was stronger than them. He wrenched himself free and threw one of his assailants to the ground. The other lunged at him again, but Ryan pushed him away. He turned to Josh. ‘Seriously, I’m warning you. You let go of Rose, right now.’
Josh shoved Rose onto the ground, and she drew back into a corner of the building, where Nutmeg came to her, licking her face. She wrapped her arms around the dog’s neck and looked on anxiously.
Ryan stood defiantly, his muscles flexing, the firelight glinting in his eyes. He was ready to fight for her.
Josh picked his heavy wooden stick from the ground. ‘Come on, then, Ryan. You come over here and fight me, just the two of us, man to man.’
‘No, Ryan!’ called Rose. ‘Stay back! He’ll hurt you.’
Ryan stood his ground, sizing up Josh, his big hands screwed into tight balls. He stood an inch taller than Josh and was easily the stronger man. He didn’t look too much bothered by Josh’s stick. ‘All right. If I have to.’ He closed in on Josh, his fists raised, his shoulders weaving, ready to dodge blows from the stick.
But Rose had seen Josh’s plan. ‘Look out!’ she cried to Ryan. ‘Behind you!’
He turned too slowly. The flute player had launched himself at Ryan from behind and delivered a flying kick to the back of his knee.
Ryan’s leg crumpled and he went down. Cackling with laughter, Josh dashed forward and caught him a direct blow on the chin with the end of his stick. Ryan’s head snapped sharply back.
Rose screamed.
‘Pick him off the ground,’ commanded Josh, whirling the long stick between his hands.
Josh’s friends hauled Ryan up onto his knees. His face was covered in blood. Josh lunged forward and struck him again with the stick, this time in the middle of the forehead. Ryan keeled over to one side. Josh swung again and delivered a sharp jab to his stomach. Ryan curled into a ball.
Each blow of the stick made Rose cry out. She struggled to her feet and flew at Josh, but he was too big for her and pushed her back to the ground.
Ryan grunted but made no move to get back up.
Josh laughed. ‘Your white knight seems to have fallen off his horse, Rose.’ He turned back to his friends. ‘Tie him up! Tie him to Chris, I want them both bound up together.’
He grabbed hold of Rose and held her as Ryan was bound with rope, and tied back to back against Chris. Seth looked on helplessly from his stretcher.
Josh raised his arm and pointed to each of them in turn. ‘If any of you three try to move, I swear I’ll throw you into the fire.’ He spun around and fixed a smile back onto his face. ‘Now, where were we? Ah, yes, Rose, it’s time for you and me to dance.’
Chapter Sixty-Seven
Stoke Park, Buckinghamshire, full moon
General Canning crept forward through the darkened trees, his troops fanning out behind him, taking up their positions around the camp. He had rehearsed the plan with them over and over again. Iron discipline and training. That’s what the first Wolf Army had lacked. Under Warg Daddy’s command, the werew
olves had been little more than a loose rabble of resistance fighters, reliant on luck as much as tactics. There had been no overall strategy, other than to seed chaos and to capture weapons. Senseless killing had become an end in itself.
Those days were over. Canning had rebuilt his new Wolf Army into a closely-knit fighting unit. Leanna had urged him to mount a full-scale assault on the western evacuation camp at Stoke Park, but he had resisted until the time was right. Now he was ready, and the attack could begin.
It was true that his troops were small in number, and not as well armed as the surviving human army. But their enemy was perilously weak after months of siege warfare. Besides, Canning had a secret weapon, one that he would deploy ruthlessly.
He waved his soldiers on, and they advanced silently toward the perimeter fence of the camp, dressed in dark clothing, their faces blackened. They would be invisible until the moon rose, and then it would be too late. The attack would already have begun.
The genius of his plan? It didn’t matter that his army was outnumbered, and that the humans were better equipped. When the moon rose, none of that would count. His spies had assured him of that.
Aaron, the young man who Leanna had spared from death, had a talent for espionage and duplicity. Perhaps that was why he had lived, while his twelve fellow scouts had perished in the forest. Canning had recognized his skills early, and had made him his spymaster. Aaron had brought him very interesting news from within Stoke Park.
It had been very easy to infiltrate the camp. The soldiers were blinkered in their thinking. They expected an attack at night from armed insurgents, or ravening wolves, not a young man walking openly among them. Once inside the fence – a simple task for a werewolf – Aaron and his other spies had been free to go wherever they pleased, and Canning knew everything about the camp – numbers of civilians and soldiers, deployment of troops, locations of fixed defences, types of armaments in use. He was looking forward to acquiring those weapons, especially the heavy armour that would be critical for advancing his campaign to the next level. He had already planned how he would make best use of it in the battles to come.
Lycanthropic (Book 4): Moon Rise [The Age of the Werewolf] Page 27