Bleak but poetic.
“I come from a bleak but poetic people. What would you have us do? Fight and die, or run as cowards.”
You are…asking me?
“Why not? I’m tired of the struggle. I’m tired of not owning my own head. I’m just…tired.”
The Tvar seemed to think about it for a long time. The Alpha let loose a howl of rage so intense that it felt as if the entire building would collapse on top of them.
He invaded our territory. He killed our pack. She was mine, too, you know. I did not approve, but he took something from both of us. We fight. Our death will have meaning.
Nikolai was surprised by the answer. “Why?”
Because I am you, and these things…I know.
“Incoming!” Heather shouted.
“Get out of here, Kirk,” Earl ordered, and, when he hesitated, Earl snapped, “Go call your people. If we die here, he still needs to be stopped.” Kirk snapped to and fled.
“Heather, get ready.”
He could see the Alpha’s eyes far below. They were shining like golden headlights. The mass of the super-werewolf was taking up a large portion of the shaft. He was climbing straight up, throwing himself upward, yards at a time, claws striking deep into rock and steel. It was like standing at the end of a tunnel with a freight train coming right at you.
There was nothing big to drop down the shaft. Heather tossed a wrench, then kicked in a rusty toolbox. The Alpha didn’t even blink when they hit.
I’M COMING TO GET YOU, HARBINGER.
Earl had three shots left in the Mosin before he had to reload. Aksel had written that he’d struck Koschei right between the eyes. Earl aimed. Fired. There was a brilliant flash of silver light, and the Alpha roared. The headlights blinked twice, then started back up.
“That didn’t work?” Heather shouted. “What now?” She threw over a tarp, looking for something else to toss down the shaft. “What happened to shoot him in the head and say the magic words? Shit. Shit.”
KOSCHEI WAS WEAK. HE HAD NOT FED THE AMULET LIKE I HAVE.
Earl chambered another of the Baba Yaga’s rounds. He aimed carefully. The old gun seemed to be perfectly zeroed. This time he picked a glowing eye.
YOU’RE NOT EVEN A WEREWOLF? I TOOK YOUR SOUL. YOU ARE NOTH-FUCK!
The Alpha shrieked as the silver bullet obliterated his eyeball. “Felt that one, huh?” Earl shouted as he worked the bolt, chambering the last cartridge in the magazine. There was only one beam of yellow light now. It danced wildly inside the shaft as the Alpha shook his head. He resumed climbing.
OH, IT IS ON NOW.
Heather had found an oil lantern. She hurled it down the shaft. The light fell, then shattered on against the Alpha. The oil ignited in hissing flames. The burning werewolf kept ascending.
The fire was dying fast. “Got any more of those?” Earl asked.
“I think the rest are battery-powered.”
“Aw, hell.” Last shot. Earl aimed, trying to time the blinking of the Alpha’s massive eyelids. At least the target was getting bigger…Too bad that meant he was closer. “My, what a big eye you have,” he muttered. Smoke and the stench of burning hair boiled out of the shaft. He pulled the trigger. The other light went out, plunging the pit into smoky darkness.
AARRRGGGHHH! The roar was in Earl’s head and against his ears.
THEY’LL GROW BACK. I DON’T NEED TO SEE TO EAT YOU.
Earl pulled a stripper clip of five of the magic rounds and began to thumb them into the open action of the Mosin-Nagant. He hadn’t used one of these particular rifles since a mission during the Korean War. There was a trick to not getting all the cartridges wedged up against their rims. There. He closed the bolt.
And the Alpha came out of shaft.
Somehow, he seemed even bigger than before. He had to duck his head to get under the cable wheel. WHERE ARE YOU? His nostril holes, which were big enough to fit a grapefruit in, flared. The head turned toward Earl, and the jaws opened. Each tooth was the size of a combat knife. THERE YOU ARE.
The jaws snapped forward, wide enough to completely consume a man. But they snapped shut on empty air.
Earl hit the ground rolling, entangled with a mass of dark hair. They came to a stop, and for a moment, Earl thought that Heather must have saved him. But it was Nikolai in werewolf form. His teeth were only inches from Earl’s eyes, and for the briefest of moments, Earl would have assumed that the fearsome beast, his mortal enemy, smiled. Nikolai turned, snarled, and charged, loping toward the Alpha.
PETROV. Blind, the Alpha swung one mighty arm, ripping thousand pound girders right out of the concrete. Nikolai spun through the chaos and landed on the Alpha’s neck, tearing and biting.
Earl had lost the Mosin. It was a few feet away. He scrambled for it.
Heather, fully changed, joined the fray. She came at the Alpha from behind and attacked his leg, trying to rip through a hamstring. The giant lashed out with one leg, and a paw knocked Heather across the room.
Nikolai never let up to the end. He threw himself at the Alpha, over and over, tearing roast-sized chunks of meat out, spraying blood in great arcs, attacking with unbelievable savagery. One giant claw wrapped around Nikolai’s leg and pulled him away. The Alpha held the other werewolf away from his body, letting Nikolai dangle and thrash. The Russian managed to pull himself up, breaking his leg in the process to attack the tendons in the Alpha’s wrist. The Alpha roared in agony as Nikolai severed the artery.
ENOUGH OF YOU.
The Alpha reached up with his other hand and took hold of Nikolai’s arm. The limb seemed puny between the great claws. The Alpha pulled. Nikolai screamed as one arm was torn off.
Earl’s hand landed on the wooden stock of the Mosin-Nagant.
Nikolai was still fighting, still attacking, even as the blood pumped from his torso. The Alpha sunk his claws into Nikolai’s chest, and, once locked on, pulled against Nikolai’s leg. He screamed again, weaker this time, as his leg was torn cleanly off at the pelvis.
PETER AND THE WOLF. LAST OF YOUR LINE. YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE CHALLENGED ME.
The Alpha wrenched off Nikolai’s other arm. Nikolai’s head hung, weak and limp. He held Nikolai over the shaft.
LIKE YOUR EMPIRE, TO THE GRAVEYARD OF HISTORY’S FAILURES YOU GO…
Great claws pulled free of Nikolai’s body and the Russian tumbled into the dark.
The Alpha turned, satisfied. NOW, WHERE ARE YOU, HARBINGER? Still blind, the monster flared his massive nostrils as he sought the scent of his enemy.
And Earl shoved the barrel of the Mosin nearly a foot up the Alpha’s nose. He jerked the trigger.
The light was blinding. This time the message that the Alpha broadcast telepathically was an unintelligible signal of so much confusion and pain that it momentarily shorted out Earl’s brain.
The Alpha reared back, hit the pulley, did a turn, then fell. Earl dove to the side to keep from being crushed. The impact of the Alpha’s body shook the foundations.
NNNNNNUUUUUUUuuuuuuuuuuu.
Earl shook his head. The Alpha was down, flat on his back. The rifle was still sticking out of his nose. There was no time to lose. He had no idea how fast the monster could regenerate from something like this. Nikolai’s life had bought him a distraction, and it was his only chance. Earl jumped over one outstretched arm, grabbed handfuls of black, and began pulling his aching body up the Alpha’s torso.
The amulet. There. It was barely visible through the hair. There was no chain holding it. It was like the silver had turned molten and seared itself to the werewolf’s chest. It was an open palm, three claws, just like the forerunner’s skeleton, just like the dream from when his curse had been ripped away.
He grabbed the amulet in both hands, sinking his fingers into the Alpha’s skin, and shouted the words from Aksel’s journal. “Allut tvar mataw!” And he pulled with all his might.
Nothing happened. The amulet didn’t even budge.
“Allut tvar mataw. Allut tva
r mataw!” Earl roared. Somehow he pulled harder. Veins stood out in his neck. “Allut tvar mataw! Motherfucker!” The amulet hadn’t moved a bit. “This is why I hate magic!”
Earl looked to the rifle. The Alpha had to be regenerating. Time for another dose of silver to the old brain-stem.
HARBINGER.
The entire body shuddered beneath Earl’s knees. “Aw, hell.”
GIVE MY REGARDS TO PETROV.
Earl tried to move, but the arm was so big, there was nowhere to go. It was like trying to dodge a wall. It hit him, and he tumbled overboard. He hit the ground hard, only to be hit again. His body scraped and banged across the gravel as the Alpha shoved him over the edge and into the shaft.
Earl was falling.
Desperate, he reached for something, anything. His hand struck metal, stone, metal, and somehow he grabbed on, for just a split second. The impact wrenched his arm from the socket. The ledge he’d grasped crumbled, and Earl fell again.
Air tore by. Earl hit a center cable. He touched it. Sliding. Then hit it again. Somehow he grabbed it, slowing himself. Friction burned his gloves as he fell.
Can’t die. Not like this. Earl got his other hand on the cable. Still falling. Can’t stop. He hit it with his leg, trying to wrap himself around the cable. It abraded through his armor and into his skin. The pain was horrific, but he squeezed tighter.
He was slowing. Slowing. Then there was no more cable. The end zipped past his leg. Past his hands and was gone.
He barely had time to make a noise before the ground hit him.
The Alpha pulled the rifle out of his nose. It hurt like a son of a bitch. The silver needle had literally scrambled his brains. He should have eaten Harbinger, at least for the calories, but kicking him over the edge so he could plunge to his doom had been strangely satisfying, too. He lay there for a moment, using his other senses as his eyes slowly healed. He began to shrink. It took too much energy to sustain the great-form for long. Waves of heat bled from him as he took his human form.
That had to be all. The challenge had to be complete. There was nothing else for him to prove. Listening intently, he waited for the amulet to tell him another secret, but the damned thing was silent. “What more can you want from me?” There was still no response. “Please?”
“Adam!” It was his father. His human father. His real father; his werewolf father was dead. “Adam, stop.” The Alpha turned to face him. Kirk had found a revolver somewhere, probably one of Harbinger’s, and he took it in both hands and aimed it at his son’s heart. His father had a surprisingly grim look on his face. “You’ve got to stop this. It’s that thing on your chest. It’s changing you. It’s messing with your head.”
“You can’t blame it on the amulet, Dad. It’s changing me physically.” The Alpha tapped himself on the head. “But I’m the one calling the shots. This is my plan. My mission. My destiny.”
“These are silver bullets in here. I don’t want to shoot you, but I will.”
“I’ve got no doubt you would. You always were the tough one. You made that decision a long time ago, didn’t you? That if your horrible, cursed, monster son ever went wrong, ever went bad, you’d be the one to put him down. Duty, honor, country…Family came way after everything else.”
The gun was barely moving. “I love you, Son, but I will kill you if I have to.”
The Alpha shook his head. “That’s what I told myself when I decided Mom needed to go.”
“You…you…what?” Now the gun shook.
“I loved her, but she was in my way.” The truth seemed to rob Kirk of his will. The Alpha moved, too quickly for his father to react, and wrapped his hands around the revolver. Kirk fought, but he wasn’t nearly strong enough as the Alpha steered the muzzle under his father’s chin. “Now you two can be together again.” He put pressure on his father’s trigger finger and closed his eyes.
When it was done, he felt strangely empty.
The Alpha stepped away from his father’s body and touched the amulet. Still nothing. He’d just severed the last tie to his mortal life. “What more can you want from me?” He roared in frustration, picked up a wrench, and smashed it to bits against the wall. The sun was up. They couldn’t afford to wait any longer. “Let this place be the first test, then. I’ll raise vulkodlak in other places, larger cities, with bigger populations. I’ll satisfy you eventually!” Lucinda Hood was in the corner. Luckily she hadn’t been crushed during the melee. He was at her side in the blink of an eye.
The witch was coming to. “Wha-what happened?”
“Harbinger knocked you unconscious. Come on. Wake up. It’s time to go.”
Lucinda shook her head to clear it. “Give me a moment to prepare.” She reached into her coat and began unknotting the rope tied around her waist. The rope was the key element to one of the Shadow Man’s perfected teleportation spells.
“Hurry. There’s nothing left for us here now.” The Alpha checked the air. His vision was shot, but he could still smell-with one nostril, at least. There was only one other living thing on their level…“Wait. That’s it!”
Lucinda was still wobbly. “What?”
The female. Her grandfather had somehow stolen a bit of the forerunner’s spirit when he’d taken the amulet from Koschei, and he’d passed that on to his heirs. Whatever piece had been stolen was enabling her to exercise remarkable control. That had to be what the amulet needed. It wasn’t complete. “Keep working. This won’t take long.”
He found Heather on the other side of the room, trapped. When he’d struck her, she’d apparently fallen onto a few pieces of broken rebar sticking out of the floor. There was one through her calf and another piercing her thigh, with a foot and a half of metal spike sticking out of each one. Far too high for her to lift herself off of, there was no way out on her own short of gnawing her own leg off.
And from the look of determination in the red werewolf’s eyes, he could tell that she was thinking about it.
“Regeneration is a spectacular gift. Except you can’t heal around a foreign body. Look at all that blood. I’m amazed you’re still alive.” He reached out one hand and used the gift that his mother’s line had bestowed upon him. “Calm…calm. Let me take your pain,” he whispered. “That’s all right. It’ll be over soon.” The female relaxed. She quit tugging on the bloody holes in her legs. She exhaled as his peace relaxed her, and began to shift back to her human form. He gently stroked her hair. “That’s right. It’ll be over soon.” He waited patiently until she’d returned to her original state.
Once she was fully human, he removed his power and let all the pain come rushing back at once. Heather screamed.
The agony had to be excruciating. “What’re you doing?” she hissed through gritted teeth.
“Taking back what’s mine. Come on. This won’t take long. Stand up.” He grabbed her by the old leather coat she was wearing and hoisted her off the rebar. She screamed as the metal tore free. Holding her in his arms like a baby, he carried her back to the shaft. She had lost too much blood to fight anymore. Once the stolen essence had been taken back, he’d toss her down with the others that had dared fight him. It seemed appropriate that way. Someday, in a world full of werewolves, they’d build a shrine on top of this place.
“Heather!” A single, feeble man stood on the catwalk. He was old, pathetically weak, and wouldn’t have too many more years on this world, even if the Alpha wasn’t about to destroy him for meddling. “It’s not too late! I know how to beat him!”
“Somebody kill him already,” the Alpha ordered, but then he remembered. The entire pack was dead. One more thing he was going to have to rebuild. He unceremoniously dumped Heather on the floor next to the shaft. “Guess I’ll do it myself.”
“Heather! It’s in your grandpa’s journal.” The old man lifted a small leather-bound book and waved it over his head. “On the very first page.”
Interesting. It would be useful to know exactly how some mere soldiers had been able to defeat
the great Koschei. The Alpha picked up a five-foot length of steel girder and tested the balance. He walked toward the human.
“Read the words. Use it!” The old man threw the book at the female. It was actually a very good shot, and the book landed only a few feet from her. She showed surprising fortitude as she dove for it, dragging her torn leg behind.
He looked back at the intruder. He would deal with Heather in a moment. The Alpha hurled the heavy beam through the air. It missed the man but struck the catwalk hard enough to shear all the rusty bolts from the wall.
“Aino!’ the female cried.
The entire catwalk assembly broke free and collapsed to the floor with a terrible crash. A cloud of dust rolled across the room. He turned back to the female. She had rolled onto her side and had the book open before her. She was panicked, desperate, as she tried to find a way to stop him.
The Alpha strolled over and snatched the book from her hands. “What’ve we got here.” The handwriting was loose and sloppy. He picked a random spot on the first page.
See, I bear a curse. You learn to deal with it, or it deals with you. Crying about it won’t change a thing. Embracing it will destroy you. I have stared into the face of evil, and I’ve been the face of evil. I’ve done some bad things in my life. Good thing I’ve lived a long time, because I’m still trying to even that score. Some folks would call it penance. I call it my job.
I am a Hunter. I am a Monster. I was born Raymond Earl Shackleford Jr., son of the greatest Hunter to ever live, in the year 1900. I’ve held many names since.
Today they call me Harbinger.
This wasn’t the journal of Aksel Kerkonen. The Alpha looked up from the page at the female. Treachery ran deep in her family. She held a different book in her hands and was reading aloud from it.
It was a spell. The air crackled with raw energy. “Bitch.” He reached for the true book.
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