Demon Dogs (Wildcat Wizard Book 3)

by Al K. Line

  Someone let off another round.

  Vicky staggered back under the assault, her shoulder bleeding. She raked a huge paw over the exposed muscles and roared in pain and fury. I blasted that bastard so hard his eyes popped out his head even as the back of his skull caved in and his brains oozed out.

  "Just you now, Fat man."

  "I never liked you, Arthur," he wheezed, eyes as hard as they'd always been. He showed no fear, just anger and annoyance at being deprived this most precious of prizes.

  "I never liked you either," I said.

  Vicky sprang for him. She ripped through his clothes, then layers of fat folded over like someone had forgotten to make the bed, until her snout disappeared into his belly. He batted at her and screamed as Vicky tore back with her prize firmly in her mouth. His intestines unwound and the wolf ravaged the pink flesh until it burst, spewing pints of bile and pounds of semi-digested food over the bloodied floor and the corpses.

  All I could think of was how would I get her home?

  Nice Doggie

  "Um, can you change back?" I asked, sure to stay still and not spook her.

  Vicky gave a final tug of the Fat Man then dropped the guts and sank to a sitting position, easing my stress levels from utterly freaked to almost utterly freaked.

  She was the missing woman, the sister gone all these years. There was no other explanation although this defied belief and I had no clue how it could possibly be true. I knew for a fact Vicky didn't turn into a werewolf every full moon, but then, they didn't all have to, did they? Ivan didn't, could choose even if the lure of the moon was strong. Maybe this was why she got all moody now and then, or was that just her being her?

  What about her children, could they do it? Hell, why hadn't she ever talked to me about this? And why the hell had she let me chase all over the damn country and get into all kinds of crap when she was the one we were searching for? Something didn't ring true, but now wasn't the time for a quiet chat over a cuppa. Now was the time to not get my insides ripped through my delicate flesh and left to rot on a concrete floor in a dodgy factory surrounded by a bunch of dead idiots.

  I stared at Vicky, and she cocked her head and returned the look, only hers was more intimidating than mine. She said nothing, obviously, and so I asked again, in what I believed to be a soothing voice but may have come out a little wobbly, "Can you change back? We can go home."

  The wolf moved its head again and her ears flattened. Then she stood and growled at me. She paced forward; I knew the wolf didn't have going for a nice walk in mind.

  "Vicky, it's me, Arthur. You're my friend, the jolly sidekick, remember?"

  She growled and advanced.

  I began to take tentative steps backward.

  In typical, "You have got to be kidding me," fashion I felt something against the back of my boot and tumbled backward, landing on my arse. The stench of a very dead, very eviscerated goon made my stomach lurch. As my hands went down, they sank through his open cavity and I slid, madly trying to stop my hands sinking deeper but only managing to make it worse.

  Soaked and covered in blood and guts I frantically tried to pull my hands out and finally grabbed hold of his shirt and cleaned them a little. My wand was covered in gore and I wiped it quickly, turning just in time to see the beast launch, her eyes lost to a madness it was defenseless to resist.

  Now, I'm all for looking out for friends, but if one of them turns into a werewolf and tries to eat my face off then all bets are off.

  So I blasted Vicky with my wand and prayed she'd forgive me.

  Good Girl

  At the last moment, as an invisible wave of energy spat from my wand with a vibrating motion that made my arm spasm, I diverted the force away. I couldn't do this to her, not after all she'd been through. It angled off to the side but not without her feeling the ripple effect of the weak, strained magic. The hairs on her body wafted as though in a gentle breeze and she snarled as she caught if not the force of my will then my intention.

  Trying to subdue her was a bad idea, it would just anger the beast and make her lose control, but as she advanced, stepping slowly and sniffing the air for signs of magic, I kind of changed my mind and wished I'd risked it.

  "Vicky, it's me. Change back, it's all over now. Come on, we can go home. We can talk about this. Please?" I put out my hand, showing her I meant no harm, wand resting on the floor, and it did something, brought her out of her trance. She jumped back and crouched ready to pounce but something stopped her, an inner understanding that she could relax now, that no danger was imminent.

  "Come on, it's over. Change back." I rose cautiously, tried my best to ignore the layer of sticky innards coating my skin, and took a step forward with my hands where she could see them.

  Vicky growled a warning, glanced at the door, then was gone.

  "Shit." I bent and grabbed my wand then sprinted after her. Annoyed with myself for forgetting, I dashed back inside, grabbed what was left of her clothes, found her trampled bag with her phone and assorted mom-junk all smashed up and then ran hell-for-leather. If I lost her here it would be bad for both of us. She didn't know the city, had nowhere safe to go, and couldn't be allowed to run around like this. People would see and it would bring down all kinds of trouble on us both. Her for exposing herself, allowing others to see the wolf, me for being involved and not stopping her. The Alliance took a very dim view of such things and whether you were a wizard or not they'd wipe you out for exposing the supernatural to the citizens.

  Vicky's life depended on her not doing anything rash out in the open, and so did mine. So I ran for all I was worth and chased after her as she disappeared behind one of the many old buildings that were part of the old factory complex.

  By the time I got there I was out of breath, partly from running, partly from stress and concern. All I could think of at that moment was how dangerous this was for her, how if word got out her life would be over. Even if she survived, life would never be the same now, it couldn't be. Could it? So many thoughts whizzed by I didn't know how to process them or even consider the future without panicking. Had she done this many times before and hidden it from me? No. Impossible.

  What then?

  Damned if I knew.

  Find her, I had to find her. The rest could wait. She was hurt, shot through the shoulder, and it may not have been a life-threatening wound right now but she needed medical attention and we couldn't get that here. Even if she was in human form there was no way we could go to the hospital; she'd be detained and then it would only be a matter of time before the trail led back to here and the bodies.

  Or would it? Who would clean up now the Fat Man was dead? Would somebody step in and tidy up this mess anyway? Probably. The fights were lucrative and no doubt somebody would be back, and soon, to direct operations. People milled about but I ignored them, and they kept away, knowing this wasn't their business. That whatever had occurred inside had left us alive and that meant we weren't to be messed with. But most had gone, driven off. They'd be back, the players would return to see if they could claim the fights as their own, and there would be violent times ahead as the power plays became bloody as was always the way.

  I heard a shout and followed the noise only to find one guy on the ground and another helping him up, both looking freaked.

  "She nearly took my arm off, man. What is that thing?"

  "Piss off," I shouted as I followed the direction they were looking and ran after my friend.

  "Vicky, if you stay here you'll be killed. You'll never see your kids again. They'll grow up without a mother," I hollered into the darkness. I waited, holding my breath as I listened, and was sure I heard something. I stumbled over rough ground and turned the corner of a building to find her there, head and tail down, ears flat against her head, whimpering quietly.

  "Come on, let's get out of here."

  The pitiful creature, although still as scary as a vodka enema (don't ask!), sniffed my hand and I held it there, right next to
her snout, my heart hammering in my chest. She didn't bite it off, which was good news, so I turned and walked in the direction of the car.

  The beast trailed behind me.

  For Your Own Good

  I shut everything down. Thoughts, feelings, questions, all the worry and the impossibility of the situation, I closed a door on that tumultuous maelstrom and just walked. If you ever find yourself leading a werewolf to your car you'd be wise to follow this advice, it's surprising how keen your legs become to start running and your throat to scream.

  We made it to the car without incident, a small but welcome blessing, and the woman-wolf kept pace with me the whole way. Why she hadn't shifted I didn't know, and I not once looked over my shoulder for fear of spooking both the animal and the woman inside. What if she was stuck? Ugh, here I went again second-guessing things. I focused on my feet.

  "Um, damn, I didn't think this through." What now? The wolf stared at me with disconcerting eyes, like she would chew my face off at any moment, so I had to do something and fast. But I couldn't exactly put her in the passenger seat and buckle her up. Werewolves were probably illegal and I'd get a ticket for some traffic violation or other—the police can be funny like that at times.

  I opened up the back doors and said, "How about in here? You can lie down, have a rest?" and gestured to the back seat. The thing that was Vicky craned her neck forward and sniffed suspiciously but refused to move.

  "Hell, Vicky, it's not like you haven't seen it before. It's just the car. Look, there are gonna be a gazillion gangsters and shifters here any minute. We need to split, now. Come on, in you go."

  I moved closer but was met with a low, menacing rumble. No way was she going inside.

  "Fine, what's your plan then?" I stood, exasperated, with my hands on my hips feeling ridiculous for having such a conversation, but what else could I do?

  There was a noise close to the building and we both jumped. Vicky turned to face what I assumed was someone after us but a rat scurried through the rubble.

  With nothing to lose, and out of options, I pulled my wand out and fired up a single sigil. I let a tiny bubble of magic expand at the tip, forming a globe the size of my fist.

  And I slammed that baby hard over the back of the werewolf's head while it wasn't looking. For a moment that felt like an eternity nothing happened, then the creature slumped to the ground, unconscious. But for how long? And how pissed would she be when she awoke?

  Ten minutes later, after a lot of swearing, me seriously tweaking my back, and more swearing, I'd managed to get her into the trunk and tied up tighter than my nerves.

  Yes, she'd be miffed, but at least she couldn't eat me or run away and get lost.

  With a million and one questions flooding my mind now she was safe, I got in the car and began the long drive home.

  Breaking the News

  Several times I had to pull over into a service station as tiredness overwhelmed me. For once, it wasn't the insomnia and that deep ache of a fatigue that fogs your mind and slows your body until your limbs feel like lead that was upon me. This was a different kind of exhaustion. This was old-fashioned knackered from fighting the bad guys, from dealing with the monsters type of tiredness.

  I was almost out of magic and low on energy but more than anything it was just weariness of the soul. Oh, and the slight stress factor may have played a role too. Nothing like having a werewolf tied up in the trunk to set the nerves to jangling.

  After bad coffee and worse sandwiches, I was rejuvenated enough to continue, but it took two more stops and toilet breaks because of said stops before I got enough momentum going to stay awake and alert for the remaining drive home.

  The whole trip was interminable, and every mile closer I got the more convinced I was that something would go wrong and everything would go to hell. Maybe we'd get pulled over and some keen copper would check the car, or I'd break down and get towed or any of a hundred scenarios that played through my mind. But none of that happened, and eventually, me so beyond nervous that a deep calm had descended and there was no more stress left in my body, I pulled up on the outskirts of the city and made a call.

  "Tell me you have good news," said Ivan.

  "I found your sister." There was silence on the other end of the line, but it was to be expected. "Did you hear me?"

  "Is she, is she well? What did they do to her?"

  I could hear his teeth grinding and the hope and fear in his voice. Whatever he'd imagined happening to her, now it was real his emotions would be working overtime. If vampires still had emotions.

  "She's fine. Well, not fine, she's tied up, but, er..."

  "Tied up? What's going on, Arthur? Where was she?"

  "It's complicated." Boy was it.

  "Can I see her? Can you bring her here?"

  "I need to deal with a few things first. She's been shot." Ivan gasped but I hurried on. "She'll be okay, but..." Damn, this was difficult. "Okay, here's the deal. It's Vicky, and she turned into a you know what, and hasn't, or can't, turn back. I'm going to get her fixed up, and, well, how in Buster's name do I get her to change back into her human form?"

  "Vicky? What's Vicky?"

  "Your sister, it's Vicky. At least I think it is. How many other therianthropes of the twisted, part wolf, part person kind are there in the country?"

  "None apart from me and Avisha as far as I know, and trust me, I've looked."

  "I bet you have," I muttered, rubbing my face. I was tired, crashing hard now. There was a noise from behind and the car shook. "Bugger, she's awake."

  "Arthur, what's happening?"

  "She woke up, and she's seriously grumpy. How do I convince her to become Vicky again?" I asked urgently, the car rocking wildly now.

  "You let her do it when she's ready. It won't last, a few days at most if she refuses to change on her own, or can't. Vicky, how can it be her?"

  "I honestly don't know. But it's one hell of a coincidence otherwise. I have to go. I'll get her to mine and fix her up, we have the panic room which I can use if I have to. Wait where you are. I don't want to freak her out any more than she already is. Okay?"

  "Arthur, if this is my sister then I must see her. I must talk to her."

  "Just wait for my call." I hung up.

  Wasting no time, I drove to my new pad. I wasn't looking forward to getting her out of the car and inside the house without getting seriously ripped up.

  As I drove, I made another call to tell George to expect me soon and to get the panic room ready and bits and pieces so I could take care of Vicky's shoulder without telling her about the shifting thing, then drove to the house and parked up with the car being hammered by the werewolf in the back.

  "Oh, Vicky, you could have told me." I got out, checked the coast was clear, stood to the side, popped the trunk and, wrapping myself in a worryingly weak shroud of magic so she couldn't bite me, I manhandled her out with a struggle and pulled her into my city hideaway.

  Not slowing, I kept on dragging her through the house as she growled and snapped. I ignored her and kept on pulling. Damn, how could she be this heavy? Where was the law of conservation of mass when you needed it? But this was magic, true, strange magic, and her weight was her own and that of this unknowable force.

  In the kitchen the going was easier on the tiles and she slid across. I dragged her backward through the portal and we exited in the barn. Out into the main space I was done for. Dragging werewolves across a deep pile of straw takes it out of a tired wizard and I collapsed backward, releasing my grip on the ties around her feet.

  The creature, wild and looking scared but all kinds of angry, snapped at the air then suddenly stopped, as if in thought. She stared at me, stared at the rope around her arms and legs, or legs and legs I guess, and I understood.

  "Oh no you don't," I warned, and lunged for her, but I was too slow and she shifted away fast, even tied, and in two knife-like bites she was through the ropes and free.

  Vicky turned and glared at me
once then smashed through a rotten section of the barn door. I ran after her but stopped just outside. She was gone.

  The full moon shone down on me, its light dancing on the sea in the distance.

  I was alone and so was Vicky.

  More Surprises

  I ran back in, opened the barn doors wide, then drove out before closing up best I could with the damage. Where would she go? She hardly knew the area. I clung to the hope that once she cooled off and came to her senses that the farmhouse would be the first place she'd think of. With no chance of finding her by driving around blindly in the middle of the night I drove home, ignoring my constantly ringing phone.

  At the farm I turned it off, parked up, then went inside after checking she wasn't lurking anywhere.

  Boots off—even under such duress the habit was ingrained—I noticed the door leading to the panic room was open. George had done as instructed and hopefully the things to sort out Vicky's gunshot were down there waiting. I staggered into the kitchen feeling barely human.

  It wasn't what I expected. I'd assumed George would have been sleeping soundly and I'd woken her, so she'd be in her dressing gown or something. But no, she was fully dressed, looked alert, a little too alert, and wasn't alone.

  "Sasha, what are you doing here?"

  "We just got back when you called," she said, smiling softly and making my heart melt. Her golden hair looked like she'd just had it done and her skin shone with this radiance that always made my insides flutter a little and even now was no exception.

  "George, you okay?"

  "Sure, of course. What happened, who's with you?"

  "Um, nobody now. Ran off." I dragged myself to the table and slumped into a chair. "Any chance of a coffee? I'm dying on my feet here?"

  "You're sitting down," said George, who nonetheless put the kettle on to make instant.

  "Figure of speech." I felt myself sinking into that strange state when you can't deal with what you know you have to, the whole system shutting down to rest and recuperate. I was so tired now. Exhaustion had ravaged my body and I found it almost impossible to resist the lure of sleep. "Give me two minutes," I mumbled, then sat upright and focused for all I was worth.