Way of the Wolf: Shifter Legacies 1

by Mark E. Cooper

  “Good bye, old friend,” Gavin whispered and grimaced at the rolling eyes and snapping jaws. The head was trying to speak, but without lungs and a voice box, there was no way to know what its last words were. He preferred not knowing.

  He groaned as his wounds made themselves felt. Gods, he wanted to feed and heal himself, but forced the thought aside. Sandy was waiting at home for him, and he would not disappoint her.

  The detective put her gun away and approached to study the slowly dying head. She nudged it with the toe of her boot, shaking her head as it tried to bite.

  “Damn,” Flex said. “That’s just nasty!”

  “Yeah,” Chris said.

  “Are you all right, Mister Gavin?”

  “Fine, just fine.”

  “You don’t look fine—” Angelina began. Her eyes widened and she shoved him aside. “Look out!”

  Gavin staggered off balance. It was unforgivable of him. He was tired yes, wounded yes, but Angelina should not have been able to move him; she was merely human. He shouted angrily as he staggered a few paces, and then roared in denial as an arrow sprouted from Angelina’s chest. The Kevlar vest proved itself unable to protect her from a modern crossbow bolt. It punched deeply into her chest. Shock and pain flashed upon her face, and her machine gun emptied itself wildly into the air as she fell. Gavin was moving fast fast fast! The bowman was still turning to run when he caught up and struck his head from his body. He glared down at the dead vampire, still seeing Angelina’s fall.

  “She’s alive!” Chris yelled. “She needs an ambulance, fast!”

  “There’s no time,” Flex said grimly. “She’s dying.”

  Gavin closed his eyes in grief, praying uselessly to the Gods of his fathers, and to the pantheon of this world too, that she not die. Useless. He was damned, as all his kind were. Damned, and cursed to damn those they loved.

  * * *

  41 ~ Escape

  “Hurry!” Elliot hissed to the others, and they trotted by into the trees. “How are you feeling now?”

  “I’m fine, Dad, stop fussing. She’s not heavy.”

  Elliot eyed the senseless vampire draped over his daughter’s shoulder sceptically. It looked very wrong the way she so casually carried the vampire; like a child carrying an adult. She was petite and looked too small to be this strong, but it was damned convenient, and he was thankful that knocking Chani out had not affected her at all. He didn’t understand their bond, but he believed in its power. He’d known almost from the first that killing Chani had been out of the question even if he had managed to summon the courage to try. It would have killed Susan too, but the bond was not an equal sharing. Susan’s death would not kill Chani, for example, though it apparently would have weakened her and hurt emotionally. He wasn’t sure about that last part. He had seen scant emotion on Arcadian’s face when he stabbed Morgan in the chest, but absent other data, he was willing to take it on faith for now. The inequality had suggested to him that there were loopholes in the bond and that they could be exploited. Loopholes such as the one he’d used to incapacitate Chani. It meant not only was short-term freedom possible, but that ultimate escape was as well. It meant he could control the vampire, keeping her alive while he found a way to free his daughter of her reliance upon the bond. It meant her eventual return to full humanity was feasible. She did not have to endure stasis, this unending half-life he had condemned her to when he shackled her to the vampire she carried.

  “Let’s get out of here. I can’t hear the fighting anymore, but—”

  “I can,” Susan said. “They’re killing everyone.”

  He shivered and not at the thought of the slaughter back at the house. They deserved their deaths, most of them. He felt sorry for the specimens downstairs, but even they had to die. They were unnatural creations. More unnatural than any undead to have gone before them. At least Chani and others like her were true to their natures. The abominations he had helped Jennifer create were something new and dangerous. No, it wasn’t the thought of the slaughter that made him uneasy. It was the changes in his daughter. She was stronger, faster, and more... more… just more. That she could hear the fighting at such a distance was proof of profound changes. Would he be able to sever the bond? If he did, would she truly return to her previous state, or be stuck at some point in between?

  He shook his head. “The others are getting away from us. Let’s try to catch up.”

  “I hear them too. They’re not far ahead.”

  “Good. Let’s go.”

  Susan led the way quickly into the trees, but slowed to allow him to keep up. He was puffing and gasping for breath. He was out of condition. Too much sitting at a desk he suspected. Her concern made him consider lightening his load, but the samples and data the case contained was too precious to discard. The research had been loathsome, but the computer and blood samples represented almost two years of his life. Jennifer was right when she’d said to him that knowledge itself wasn’t evil, but that its applications could be in the wrong hands. The Arcadian’s hands were definitely the wrong ones. Besides, he might need to refer to it when he tackled his daughter’s bond with Chani.

  Susan abruptly stopped and swayed. The vampire slipped from her shoulder and thumped to the ground. “Daddy?” she said plaintively and crashed face first upon the earth in a dead faint.

  “Susan!”

  Black clad forms abruptly appeared out of the trees carrying lethal looking automatic weapons, and wearing night vision goggles on blackened faces. Two men dragged him back when he tried to reach Susan and Chani. More men hurried forward with heavy looking rune engraved manacles, and efficiently shackled them at wrist and ankle. Thick chains connected the runecuffs to the wide silver bands around their ankles. One of them men aimed a gun and shot Susan in the leg. He did the same a moment later to Chani.

  “Professor Massey?” One man said, pulling off his goggles to reveal his face a little better. “I’ll be taking that if you don’t mind.”

  Elliot relinquished his burden, not caring in the least. His eyes were all for Susan.

  “The drug will keep them docile, but no more than that,” the man said looking back as his men lifted the two woman and carried them away. “They’ll be fine for now.”

  “This is an outrage!” he blustered.

  “Hmmm,” the man looked disappointed. “My name is Barrows, Agent Barrows, and what I find outrageous is a man such as yourself having the boldfaced effrontery to react this way when at the very least he should be charged with terrorism, and at worst crimes against humanity. Genocide, Professor, you’ve heard the term I’m sure. Your work for the Arcadian equates to little more than that. The charges rate the death sentence if convicted, but I’m sure you won’t be surprised when I say that this incident will never become public. Lucky you. No trial.”

  “What are you going to do with us?”

  “You’ve begun to understand your position now have you? How truly good. What am I going to do with you? Well, that depends upon you doesn’t it? Come along, I don’t want to keep all the others waiting.”

  Elliot stumbled along behind Barrows. His men kept a firm grip upon his arms, but they needn’t have bothered. He would have followed them without the need of force. They had Susan and Chani.

  They exited the trees, crossed an empty road to the opposite side, and marched him up to the back of a black van like the police sometimes used. It looked armoured like those he had seen on the news, but it was plain black and didn’t have the usual SMT markings. He didn’t think this one belonged to the police. The doors were open and waiting to receive him. Jennifer and the rest of his colleagues were already sitting inside looking frightened. They were under guard by well-armed men wearing military uniform. His heart sank when he realised he had escaped one trap only to fall into another.

  The military was about to become his new paymaster… if they even cared enough for the niceties to do that.

  “Well, here we all are,” Barrows said cheerfully, a
s Elliot climbed up into the van to join the others. Barrows handed the case containing the precious research to one of the soldiers sitting near the doors. “I’ll be leaving you now, but we’ll see each other again at debriefing. A little bit of advice. Think very hard about how you can be useful to your government. I assure you, that your lives do depend upon it. Who knows, in a few years you might even be allowed out on your own again!” He let the false cheer drop from his voice and face. “Get these idiots out of my sight!”

  The van doors slammed closed.

  * * *

  42 ~ Aftermath

  Mist snarled in pain as the bullets punched into his body. The burn of silver made him want to stop and take the time to pluck them out of his side, but the fighting was too immediate and brutal for him to take the time. Assault rifles chattered, the sound echoed out of the darkness. Angel’s people returned fire before smashing windows and entering the house. Gavin smashed into the doors, going through them as if they were made of nothing more than cardboard. They succumbed to his strength that easily. The vamps with him flowed inside, their eerie vampire speed making them seem to float over the ground.

  Andrew kept to his word, and stayed close to Edward as the others abandoned them to fight with Gavin. Mist suddenly realised Edward’s increased vulnerability and felt even more responsible for him. It was David’s unease he was feeling, but they were one. He felt it as if it were his own fear.

  Attackers ran toward them out of the night, and Andrew sprinted to meet them. Newborn he might be, but he was of Stephen’s line and blood, and he had fed well at the club. Ronnie was alpha. You are what you eat was a saying that for vampires was literally true. Her blood gave him power to burn, and it made him fast. He was very impressive for a newborn vampire. He crossed the distance in a flash, and was so fast that the two men didn’t see him coming until too late. He backhanded the first man, breaking his neck instantly, and rode the other to the ground with fangs buried in his throat.

  Edward drew his sword as another guard appeared.

  Mist had his own fight to deal with. He dodged as his opponent fired his gun and wasn’t hit this time. His claws flicked out and he buried them in the guts of the shooter. He grabbed a handful of what he found inside the shrieking man, ripped it out, and threw it into its owner’s face. The dying man vomited blood and collapsed, but Mist was already fighting another human and didn’t see him fall.

  Farris in wolf form howled his victory over one of the human guards, and buried his face in the man’s belly to feed. He ripped away a sizable chunk of the dead man’s flesh, swallowed without chewing, and dashed into the night to chase down another victim. More howls and desperate screams came out of the darkness moments later as he ran down his prey.

  Mist automatically responded with a howl of his own, as did their pack brothers and sisters, and turned his attention back to his own fight. He used his wonderfully long and powerful arms to grapple with his target. Another man. A bigger one this time and quite strong for a mere human. Mist was pleased to use his jaws on the man’s throat and shoulder. He worried at the wound, while his claws ripped up his enemy’s back. Blood pumped into his mouth and he swallowed convulsively. His eyes blazed as the taste exploded in his mouth; it threatened to make him rage. He ripped out a chunk of meat, but didn’t swallow. David wouldn’t like it; he was just this side of sane to remember that. He didn’t know how long he could prevent his rage from tipping him over into frenzy, but for David’s sake, he would try.

  Thank you, but you don’t have to. I can pull back.

  No, Brother, do not leave! You weaken me—us—when you do that. When you leave me, I can’t remember what the manthings are or how they are used. I need you.

  I’m sorry, Mist. I should have realised from earlier. I will stay with you. This human is dead. Get the bullets out so that we can heal and stay close to Edward. He can lead us to Stephen.

  That was a good thought. He used his claws to dig into his wounded side, feeling for the hated metal burning inside. He plucked the bullets out and let them fall. Such tiny things to hurt so much. There were many manthings made for hurting. He knew many names for them through David’s memories. He concentrated and sped the healing of his wounds then looked around for Edward. He found him fighting with his sword against a man with a shiny blade of his own.

  Machete, David said.

  Machete then. Another manthing made to hurt and kill. Mist decided to hurry the fight along and help, but before he could grab his enemy from behind, Edward ran him through the heart.

  “Can feel Stephen?” Mist growled at Edward, trying to make his words clear. His voice made certain words hard to understand, so he limited himself to just a few. “Show?”

  Edward cleaned his sword on the body of his enemy. “I can feel him now that we’re inside the wards. He’s underground. He says they have him caged in what he thinks is a basement. There are concrete steps leading down to it.”

  Mist grinned. That was very good news! If they were in contact again, Stephen couldn’t be hurt too badly. “Michael too?”

  Edward nodded. “And Marie Stirling—they turned her after Andrew left. He doesn’t know. I think it would be best if we kept that to ourselves for now. There are shifters and humans caged down there too.”

  “Show,” he demanded.

  Edward led the way into the house. Gunfire sounded from all sides as Angel’s gang took on AML holdouts on the grounds, but some of it came from inside the house too. They hadn’t killed them all yet then, and anticipation of another fight sped his breathing. He pulled Edward roughly back, and stepped in front of him, shielding his friend with his own body. Andrew arrived and Mist pointed him to the right. Andrew nodded and carefully slid through the door in that direction. Mist followed him through the broken door and bullets stitched the wall near his head. He snarled and launched himself across the entry hall toward the shooter. He bit the woman. Hard. She screamed in anguish, but he quickly silenced her.

  He let her body fall. “Which way?”

  Edward took the lead again, and Andrew took up station next to him, while Mist brought up the rear to protect their backs. Andrew didn’t know the way despite being a prisoner in the same place before being turned. He’d been unconscious on the way to his prison, and he’d been dead on the way to his burial.

  They didn’t encounter any more opposition in the main areas of the house. All seemed deserted, but that was false. The screams and howls of battle, the sounds of gunfire, the crashing and yelling... all of it had receded as the fighting spread through distant parts of the house and grounds.

  Edward led them into the kitchens and found the entrance to the basement. Before he could descend the steps, Mist and Andrew took charge and the lead. Lucky they did, because some of the enemy had retreated to hide with the prisoners. Bullets punched into Andrew, and he snarled in pain, but he didn’t let that stop him. He threw himself down the steps using his vampire speed, and bowled over the humans gathered and clogging the bottom of the steps. Mist chased him, and ripped into the guards. Two of them were vampires, and he suddenly had his first serious fight upon his hands.

  Andrew finished the last human. “Sayles you bastard!” he cried as he slammed into one of the vampires.

  Mist was grateful. He had barely been able to keep two of them from his throat. As soon as Andrew took a hand, the fight turned back in his favour. His chosen target used punches and kicks, but although they were powerful blows, they didn’t have the same effect as claws. Mist used his to cut and slash, and then he grappled. They fell to the cement floor struggling and rolling. He howled in pain as he rolled into one of the cages, and scrambled away, snarling at the cramping in his abused muscles. The vampire leapt to his feet and tried to kick him in the face. It might have broken his neck had it landed, but Mist grabbed the leg and toppled the grinning vampire. He lunged before the man could get away, clamped his jaws around his throat, and snipped his head off with a single powerful bite like a pair of scissors
cutting flowers.

  The prisoners were shouting encouragement and pleading for release from their cages. There were a dozen people locked up—a mix of shifters and vanilla humans. All of them were desperate for release and a chance to fight their captors, but Mist was in no hurry to let them out. His eyes were all for Andrew and his battle.

  Andrew slammed his opponent hard against Stephen’s cage. Stephen ignored the pain from the bars to grab the vamp, and Andrew took advantage by twisting his head all the way around. The man froze, and then slumped in Stephen’s grip. He let the body fall a moment later, and glared out of his cage, his eyes blazing with madness. His fangs were all the way out and he emanated an insane hunger. He looked demonic.

  “Don’t get too close,” Michael advised. “They haven’t been feeding him.”

  “At all?” Edward said, sounding appalled.

  “No.”

  Change back now. I’ll feed him, David said.

  Mist thought about that, and decided it was a good plan. He wasn’t certain he could stand still for a vampire feeding upon him right now, not after fighting some of them. He allowed the change to enfold him, and spiralled away into David’s mind as his brother rose up to replace him.

  David groaned and worked his neck from side to side. It popped loudly, but felt better afterwards. He climbed back to his feet and winced as his joints protested. It always seemed to happen after the change. He looked around for a switch to turn off the power to the cages, and found it on the wall at the base of the steps. He used it and turned back to free Stephen.

  “Let the others out,” he said to Andrew, who was looking through the bars of another cage.

  Andrew’s expression when he turned to him was a mixture of horror and grief. “They turned her! The bastards killed Miss Stirling!”

  Marie Stirling’s corpse lay upon the bed in one of the cages, and the bite on her neck was obvious. It was black with old blood. She was still very dead, and there was no guarantee she would rise a vampire. Andrew was technically correct. They had killed her, but hopefully that wouldn’t last.