by Lee Taylor
Kitty was too breathless to even warn Mike to move as Crow shuffled again slowly behind. Ivan saw this as another opportunity, and the quiet chant he had been voicing became more vocal. Crow turned to give him an odd look as he noticed several things happening at once, one was the piles of rubble coming alive with movement, scuttling across the room to him, running up and across his over-muscled physique. Dawning on him what they were, he began to thrash about at the blisteringly speed, and as he did, he literally shook himself to pieces. At first where he flailed and stretched, his trunks for arms hit the floor. Then his head and torso, leaving his legs running and kicking, before they too were submitted to treatment from the arachnids.
“Michael, leave Kitty there for a moment and help me. You chain his legs, and I shall shackle his arms.” Mike was still speechless over what he had just seen; those spiders had probably given him a complex for life. He already suffered from arachnophobia, now it was arachnophobia times ten. He shuddered and approached Crow’s legs, picking one up as it kicked out, sending Mike sprawling onto the floor, now more agitated for being made to look bad in front of Kitty. Mike pulled the golden athame from the torso and stabbed the legs viciously, before finally shackling them to where he had been held. Ivan had already accomplished his goal and continued to pick Kitty up. Kitty eyed Crow’s torso warily, he was still blinking and apparently trying to communicate. She wheezed and pointed to Ivan, another suggestion of what to do with his body. She stepped over Sanchez who was still paralyzed, thanks to a blade spiked through his brainstem.
She reached a large, iron sarcophagus of a sort. It was an Iron Maiden. I know usually the good guys are supposed to do the righteous things, but bear in mind that Crow couldn’t feel pain, chances are the only thing that the iron maiden did to Crow’s hulking form when she slammed the door was incapacitate it for the time being, and that was good enough for Kitty. He had come on a bit too strong, after all. After taking a moment for all of them to catch their breaths, and for Kitty to attempt to help bandage Ivan’s hands, they turned to head up the stairs.
“Michael, if you find any ignition sources, you must come down here and dispose of the wolves and Crow with it. I do not wish for them to be freed and find us.” Ivan was now ordering Mike around in Kitty’s place; she was still struggling to breathe normally. The reprieve was greatly appreciated.
***
Lycaon was in a blood-fuelled frenzy, his dark passenger, Lupus, had taken over the common sense part of his brain, and so instead of sneaking back down the cells where his friends were and helping them, he was sprinting through the bizarrely empty corridors of George’s lavish fortress. Following the droplets and streaks of Jin’s blood that he had involuntarily left behind, making it easy enough for Lycaon to follow it straight to the source. That was until the flow seemed to stem. Jin had finally healed and was on the move again. Why he hadn’t fled the fortress, Lycaon didn’t know or care, and the longer he stayed the better chance that he could find and question him, unless Lupus took over, in which case he would probably just eat his face.
By the time Lycaon got to the end of the first corridor, he was getting more frustrated with the lack of progress his search was making, and there was nothing until he heard a cry from a distance. He stopped mid-step and tried to attune himself so that he had a better idea of where it originated from. The quick succession of his heart was dominant again; still he waited for the voice to call out. Seconds ticked by before the audible murmur was present again; it still sounded far off. He propelled himself onwards, around the corridor and into the next hallway; it housed the same amount of closed doors as the first. More annoyed, Lycaon let out a sigh. At this rate, he was never going to find out where the voice came from. And so he kept on running, swinging open the doors, noting the interiors, then moving on to the next room. It was a laborious task that seemed endless. The voice sounded again, and this time louder and more distinguished, which was brilliant news as it meant that he was heading in the right direction. As he got closer, he noticed that the voice that was raised was not alone, and he could hear another deeper tone. So at a guess, Lycaon would say that it was a woman and a man that he could hear. Either voice could have been Jin’s, after all, Lycaon had just neutered him. Lycaon couldn’t help but smile with the vulgar memory.
When he rounded the corner, he was faced with a staircase which he rapidly hiked up. The area he arrived in was a much older section of the fort. It was much darker, and even smelt older. Moisture had had time to seep into the wood panels, making the mahogany crack and splinter in places. Lycaon looked around the rooms to his side and was stunned at how bare they were. Floor boards were missing in places. Windows hung open, or were cracked and broken. It was like George’s apparent fort was a wreck; and he just put a false face on it... What the hell was he up to? The only discernable place to go was directly in front of Lycaon, and it had some large chamber doors, with either side stood lamps and lavish cracked oil paintings one contained a picture of George, and the other was possibly Arkham before he was malformed into the decrepit wraith that he was now.
“Get the hell away from me, I’m warning you.” The woman was calling out through a large locked, red chamber door. Lycaon slowly paced up to it, catching his breath while he leaned his head against it to hear better whatever was going on inside.
“I said get lost, the Tenebres will take your course of action as an act of war.” Lycaon was perplexed.
“Listen, whore, I couldn’t give a shit what you’re saying. I got put here for a fuckin’ reason, and if that reason is to tear your shit up, I won’t hesi-” The male’s voice cut off, and paced toward the door where Lycaon was leaning against from the opposite side. Seizing the opportunity, Lycaon kicked the door as hard as he could; it swung open, cracking into Jin’s face. Recoiling in disbelief, the woman and Jin hastily retreated to the other side of the room.
“What the hell?” Jin said, placing his fingers on his nose as he clicked it into place. “Why the hell did George put me here if he was just going to lead you to me?” Lycaon’s face was emotionless as he warily regarded the woman, ignoring Jin and his whining.
“Who are you?” Lycaon sniffed the air, and in an instant he had his answer. It was Ursine’s mom. His eyes widened in shock; he would have sworn that she was dead by now, but she was still very much alive. Her essence was horribly tainted with the Venetian’s, but she was still in good health more or less.
“I am Drusilla, a Venetian, and I do not appreciate your introduction.”
“No, no you are not, and I know who you are,” Lycaon said calmly. Jin was taking the opportunity to slip out of the room quietly. Lycaon pinned him against the wall, in a fluid movement, and drove his knee into Jin’s ribs. The force of the knee was enough to compress his insides and make heave on his empty lungs. Coughing and rasping, Lycaon turned back to Drusilla, who looked like she was sleeping. Her eyes were blank and unreadable.
“You are, Mrs. Edwards,” Lycaon said softly, hoping that she would agree. Puzzled, Drusilla eyed Lycaon and snorted.
‘“I most certainly am not!” She protested. Her face was pale and shallow; bags that circled her eyes made her look more haunted. Her tone was bitter, refusing to accept what Lycaon was telling her.
“You share similar traits with your son, Ursine.” Speaking the words, they took a moment to register with her, and her eyes darted around the room. She looked mortified that the walls themselves were going to smother her. Tears formed as she flopped to the floor, collapsing in a heap on the crimson-coloured carpet. The strain of acceptance had rendered her unconscious. Lycaon grunted; he really had not anticipated for this to happen. Lycaon eyed Ursine’s mom suspiciously, more and more questions needed answering. And Lycaon had just developed one hell of a headache.
“Jin, tell me exactly what you know, like where is my sister, and what the hell is happening?” Lycaon queried. Jin laughed and grunted as he tried to break free from Lycaon’s hold, till finally he let out an e
xasperated snarl. Saliva dripped from his bearded chin; he was becoming more feral.
“I ain’t saying shit to a pussy like you-”
Lycaon flexed his hold, popping out Jin’s left shoulder in the process. Jin howled out a cry of pain from the resulting manoeuvre. “Speak now, or I am going to dislocate your other one.” Jin grunted and struggled, attempting to wriggle free. He snapped his jaws towards Lycaon, but his hold was unwavering.
“Fine, have it your way.” Lycaon pressed him forward again; shattering Jin’s teeth against the wall and popped out Jin’s other arm with a grotesque ‘schlocking’ sound. Jin let out another burst of noise, howling and screaming something unintelligible.
“Tell me what you know,” Lycaon growled. Lupus had become a dominant part of his personality again, swapping the bloodlust for his logical perspective.
“Okay, okay,” Jin spat.
“Put my fuckin arms back and I’ll-”
Lycaon interrupted him. “Tell me, and I might let you live.” Jin bucked and snarled, spitting and foaming at the mouth till Lycaon planted Jin’s face into the wall again, leaving Jin to spit out a mouth full of blood and teeth.
“We were invited here by George-” Jin strained.
“Who?”
“Me, half my pack, some of those slick skinned limp-dick, Strigoi, and that fucking suited wussy; I don’t know his name.”
“What for?” Lycaon pressed.
“I don’t know some truce, a whole ‘you scratch my back, and I’ll slash yours’. Now put my arms back in place!” Jin shouted, his face reddening with the agony that he was in, a constantly healing body hurt like a bitch when the joints were being held from their places; he probably had calcification taking place in his sockets as he spoke.
“What that’s it? What about Jessica?” Jin froze, a shudder of pain shaking him. Lycaon could sense that he was trying to shift, but was unable to for some odd reason.
“You can get fucked, that’s all I am telling you. She’s ours now, and you’re going to have to kill me.” Jin’s defiant tone was full of his bruised pride.
“Now now, Mr. Summers, there is no reason to get all antsy.” The tone took Lycaon completely off guard. It was George.
Chapter 26
Jin and Lycaon turned to see George slowly approaching; he was back in his ceremonial robes that made him look like a reverend.
“Now you’re fucked, Winters. You should have let me go when you had a chance.” Lycaon released Jin, he was too strong to pull in front of him to hope to use him as a shield, and so held his back to the wall. Pushing Jin down in front of George’s feet.
“I hardly think he is the one in immediate danger... What? Yes, yes of course, I endeavour to please you, my lord, no... Not anymore.” Lycaon looked from Jin to George uneasily, convinced that George had now completely lost his hold on his sanity. That or he was on a hands-free kit for his cell. But that was really doubtful as magic types like Casters and Summoners, emitted a kind of field that shorted out most electronics.
“Please forgive me; I was having another conversation... Now where was I? Oh yes...” George patted Jin on the back. It was only gentle, and for a moment, but the touch had Jin writhing around the floor in agony, heaving up mounds of blood and his own entrails. Tears streamed red from his ears, nose and eyes.
“W-why? I-I did everything you asked?” With a burst of energy, Jin stood on his tiptoes, and his skin peeled down from his haemorrhaging head, revealing a broken skeleton as it crumbled to pieces inside the rank steaming-pile of mush. Lycaon was too scared to look away; he had never witnessed such foul power. But also never wished more in his life to be unable to see and hear. The resulting sound almost had Lycaon screaming out in terror, the whole while George just stood in his place casually, as if he had something better to do.
“So I have been told to let you live as I have a message to relay. Ursine must retrieve Tessa. Have you got that? Or is that too complicated for even you to understand?” George was still standing with an impish smile on his face; there was no sign of contempt or anger... And that made the words a lot more terrifying for Lycaon to hear. So he simply nodded.
“Good. My master has great things planned for my boy. Can you believe he had me orchestrate all of this? No, not Ursine, before you ask you, silly billy, I mean all of this? This house, the Venetians and demonic pact all of it, he wants to test him... Can you believe it?” George winked, and lightly chuckled, gesturing around the room. Lycaon was speechless. “I said can you believe it!?” George screamed the words at Lycaon, the room creaked and groaned; the lights faded, and a dark red glow radiated from George’s skeleton, like U.V paint at a rave party. The only thing was George did not have a human skeleton; it branched out and sprouted wings, constantly growing in size. The room seemed to disappear around Lycaon, and the sudden rush of motion had him feeling sick to his stomach. When George’s body finally finished flashing, it had taken on the form a dragon. Lycaon was stood on a podium in hell. In his wolf form no less, but compared to sheer size of George, he looked like a sea monkey.
“No...n-no I can’t.” As brave as Lycaon was, he couldn’t help but stutter. George let out a belch of fire, and everything that had been shrouded in darkness appeared with the flames ambient glow, showing nightmarish things the likes of which Lycaon hadn’t seen. Lycaon closed his eyes and waited for a moment before realising he was still in one piece, and he was standing back in the room. George appeared to be as smug as ever.
“I know it really is quite remarkable. I may grow jealous if my master favours the boy more than me... But I digress... I bet you have grown tired of hearing me, haven’t you? Well no matter... Oh and before you go, Lycaon Winters, you best hurry before the blasted government comes and takes away my little Ursine. Don’t worry about the woman; she won’t remember a thing.” George laughed looking at Ursine’s mom. Hands stretched out from the crimson carpet, pulling her into the floor, and the next instant she was gone. Lycaon was trying his best not to tremble at the whole spectacle he had just been privy to.
“You are a polite, young man, aren’t you?” George commented. Lycaon didn’t respond, he had forgotten how to. Lost in the turmoil of his own doubts, he turned on his heel as George casually walked into the hallway. A shadow stretched from the wall and absorbed him... Now Lycaon had another reason to fear the dark. In the time that he had spent in this wretched place, George had never appeared to be so unbalanced. It did make sense why the other races wanted to ally with him.
He seemed to be a typical, bitter human with mediocre powers and more money than sense... But there was more to him. The room began to creak and shift around Lycaon again; dreading to see what was put in front of him next. He pinched his eyes shut, cold fear had gripped him once more, but this time when he opened his eyes, he wasn’t standing on the podium dwarfed with hell-fire... It was a parlour, similar to where he had fought the Summers. Except there was no fireplace in this room, and the ground was littered with glass and rubble. Wrecked with debris everywhere, Lycaon was disoriented from whatever magic George had just cast. His stomach had been twisted into knots, and he stumbled forward. It was suddenly apparent that this was where I had faced the demons, and subsequently lost. He accidentally kicked me in the ribs. You know it’s a good thing that dead things can’t feel anything when their spirit is in another realm or it would have freaking hurt.
He immediately started checking my pulse and breathing, then gripped the dagger that was still protruding my heart, and slowly slid it out of place, before he scooped me up in his arms and hung me over his shoulders, turning his back to the doorway.
“What the hell have we just walked into?” Mike gasped; his usual speaking before thinking was still very much in effect. It was a great relief for Lycaon to hear a friendly voice, even one as annoying and accusing as Mike’s.
“Lycaon... what’s wrong?” Kitty’s words were weak, and barely tangible. She was still wheezing; the effort alone had her wincing in pain. Lyca
on strode over to her with me still hanging uselessly from his shoulder. The wound wasn’t healing, and what was left of my blood dribbled down him, pooling on the cold, flagstone floor with beads of cracked and broken glass everywhere Lycaon stepped... But with what he had just seen in one of the echelons of hell... It was a colossal reprieve.
“I spoke to George... We need to get out of here.” Kitty and Ivan both looked directly at Lycaon. Kitty immediately got the whole story as being able to read minds made it easy for her to trim the fat, so to speak.
“What about the other wolves?” Ivan asked; his curious tone had him shifting uneasily, looking around the parlour suite for some clue as to what happened. Lycaon grimaced and responded.
“I dealt with them,” Lycaon muttered. Kitty took hold of Ivan’s arm and shook her head. Nothing else was said; Ivan successfully placated, pulled a cigarette from his sleeve and began to smoke. Lycaon thought about George for a moment just processing what he had been through, and gave Kitty a better image of his raging insanity. Her eyes widened, and she began to choke. She needed medical attention. Ivan stepped in, stubbing out his barely lit cigarette and helped Kitty toward the door.
“Is Ursine going to be okay?” Mike queried, seeing his best friend like that was torture in itself.
“My guess is yes. George kept him alive for some reason... He kept us all alive.”
Mike frowned and turned to follow Kitty and Ivan.
“You know... George really should have tidied up in here if he had guests coming to visit.” Mike joked, but no one was in the mood for laughing.