by D. M. Turner
He glanced around at the other two. The second man crawled along the street, seeking to escape. Ian pounced, grabbed the back of his skull, and twisted until delicate bones in the neck snapped, cracked, and separated.
The taste of blood strong in his mouth, he set to tracking the rest. How many other innocent women had they tortured and killed for pure sport? Such evil men deserved to die. All of them.
Two Nazi soldiers crossed his path. Their scents said they weren’t who he hunted, but they were part of the evil seeking to take over the world. He made short work of dispatching them and left the rapidly-cooling bodies lying in the street.
* * *
Air raid sirens drew Ian to a halt. He lowered his head, sensitive ears pummeled from every side by the sound bouncing off block and rock walls and the cobbled street. He should find shelter, but his hunt wasn’t yet complete. He’d found all but one of the enemy who had killed his Marie. Five of her assailants were dead. A half dozen more evil men along with them. He had to find the final one who’d hurt her.
He picked up his pace, kept his nose to the ground, and tracked the man into a church. The same church where he’d waited for Brett hours before. The soldier raced toward an outside door, though he didn’t appear to have seen Ian. Pleasure and satisfaction darted through him. The man died in the doorway of the church, his eyes filled with fear as he stared into the eyes of vengeance.
Ian leapt over the body into the street and looked around. The sirens still echoed all around. He flattened his ears to his head and sprinted toward the river. The water might be his only means of escape if bombers were coming.
A Nazi soldier raced across the street in front of him.
Ian altered his path to destroy one more agent of evil then continued on. Just as he reached the riverbank, the first explosion shook the ground. More followed in such rapid succession, they almost sounded like one giant bomb. The force of a blast struck him from behind and threw him toward the river. Tremendous heat singed his hair, skin, and lungs even as his body hit the water. Pain swept through him.
Icy water closed over him, as much a form of torture as it was a salve for his burns. The current pushed him along. He swam, attempting to keep his head above water, despite the immense heat in the air.
After an eternity, the explosions stopped. Fire filled the air with heat and smoke.
His paws finally hit solid ground, and he climbed out of the water. He shook to rid his coat of excess water then flinched. Pain skittered across his skin. He glanced back on both sides. Skin was exposed in raw patches where fire from the initial explosions had burned through hair before he’d reached the water.
After a glance around to orient himself, Ian trotted in the direction of Marie’s apartment. If he was destined to die in Germany, he’d rather be at her side. He coughed and choked as damaged lungs protested exercise.
Fires burned all around. Screams of wounded and dying men, women, and children weren’t quite drowned out by the roar of the fires or the crack and crash of buildings as they collapsed and tumbled. People staggered out of burning buildings, flames encasing their bodies, their screams blood-curdling.
Ian cringed and ran away from them. He stopped a few times to recheck his location, confused by the lack of familiar landmarks, uncertain of his location more often than not. Then he spotted the tall, burning remains of the Kreuzkirche. He turned from there toward Marie’s apartment and broke into a run.
Minutes later, he stopped and stared at where the building used to be. The firebombing had completely annihilated it. Fire, cinders, and ashes covered what stones remained on top of one another. Marie’s body was gone.
“Ian!” The call barely reached over the cacophony.
He glanced around.
Brett ran toward him, Ian’s coat and clothes in one hand. Holes were singed through parts of his own clothing, the skin seeping and raw. Part of his hair was gone.
Ian growled and bared his teeth.
The other man slowed to a walk and held out a hand. “You know I mean no harm. We need to get out of the city. Now! I doubt they’re done with the bombing runs. We don’t want to get caught in the next wave.”
He looked away, his gaze returning to Marie’s building.
Brett knelt beside him and lowered his head. “I’m sorry, Ian. She’s gone. We can’t get her back, but we need to go. She’d want you to live.”
Head down, Ian trotted west. Rage simmered inside, burning as hot as the flames around him. The wolf clung to it as a shield against the pain caused by each jarring step and the grief of losing love and a future.
* * *
They traveled the rest of the night and most of the next day, stopping to rest in the afternoon until darkness fell again, ignoring the explosions coming from the city they’d abandoned. There was nothing left in Dresden. It could burn completely to the ground. Ian didn’t care.
They hunted together. Eating healed the fire damage both of them bore. Ian remained in wolf form. Brett stayed in human form, which frustrated Ian. They could travel faster on four legs than on two. Brett must know that, so why was he slowing them down?
Late the night of the third day, they ran across a group of Nazi soldiers who had strayed from a camp nearby. They were drinking and playing cards.
Ian crouched low and stalked them, drawing closer by the second.
Brett made a grab for him, but he easily slipped past his friend.
Evil must be destroyed. If it isn’t, it destroys the weak and innocent.
Ian reveled in the taste of their blood as each of them died. One of them got off a shot with his pistol. The bullet grazed Ian’s side but didn’t slow him down. It was the last time they’d laugh, and they’d never hurt another innocent woman. The gunfire drew others.
Pleasure rolled through Ian as he took one after another in the darkness, most of them going down without a chance to cry out as he crushed their necks in strong jaws. Their blood fed the rage inside. They deserved death. All of them.
* * *
Friday, February 23, 1945
Ian studied the encampment of Nazi soldiers at the edge of a village he couldn’t name and growled low and deep. They’d found soldiers almost every day for the past week, and a trail of bodies lay in their path. He’d made certain every one of them was dead before moving on. No way he wanted to Turn one of those bastards and give them more power.
“Ian, this must stop.” Brett knelt beside him and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Please.”
He glanced at the man and bared his teeth. How could Brett ask him to stop meting out justice for the evils these men had committed?
“Your humanity is slipping away. Don’t you realize that?”
The wolf was better equipped to bring vengeance than Ian was as a human. He glared at Brett, who lowered his gaze.
“I don’t want to lose you, my friend. Please, stop. Don’t leave me in this godforsaken place alone. I know you loved Marie, and she loved you. I knew that when I watched you two together. She wouldn’t want you to lose yourself to revenge. She loved you, the man, not the blood-thirsty creature you’re allowing yourself to become. How would she feel about what you’re doing?”
Ian growled then allowed his gaze to follow a soldier that passed a dozen yards away on sentry.
“Dearly beloved, avenge not yourselves, but rather give place unto wrath: for it is written, vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord.”
He glanced sideways at Brett. How did the man knows those words from the Bible? They’d been friends for years, and he’d never known him to read a Bible, much less recite it.
“You’ve lost sight of our purpose here. We’re soldiers, Ian. We fight because we must, for freedom, for what’s right. Bloodlust isn’t right. God will take care of them. Let it be.” Brett moved to put distance between himself and the soldiers, staying low to avoid detection.
Ian glanced again at the camp. The wolf demanded their deaths. The man was torn between compliance with that orde
r and obedience to a much higher command.
If you walk away now, they’ll escape justice, the wolf warned.
No! He lowered his profile and targeted the closest soldier.
Before he could launch from cover, he was tackled from behind. His assailant dragged him bodily away from the Nazis. He snarled and writhed to free himself. A good ways from the camp, with burned out buildings as cover, he finally managed to wiggle free. He bit down on the first body part he could reach—an arm.
A hiss of breath was the only sound his assailant made, but he let go.
Ian whipped around and threw himself at the man, knocking him flat on the ground. Paws on the chest, he growled and snapped his teeth.
The prone man didn’t struggle or fight back. He relaxed, looked away, and exposed his throat in total submission.
The scent registered. Wolf. Friend. Brett.
A shudder went through him as he backed away. He’d nearly killed his best friend. Maybe Brett was right. His humanity was slipping away.
Eyes on the ground, Brett slowly got to his feet, picked up a bundle he’d been carrying, and walked away.
Ian followed, head down, tail drooping.
They took shelter in a partially bombed out house and built a small fire in the remains of a fireplace.
“I have your clothes.” He set a wad of fabric on the floor, untied what turned out to be coat sleeves, and laid the garments out.
Taking that as a cue, Ian Shifted. The pain was more severe than normal, as though the wolf protested being pushed back inside. He gritted his teeth and forced his way through it. Human again, he stood, stretched, and then pulled on his pants. “I wasn’t aware you knew scripture.”
Brett snorted. “What? You think I’m a total heathen?”
“Something like that.” He yanked on his shirt then dropped to the floor to pull on socks and boots.
“My mother used to quote that verse at my father all the time when I was growing up. He had a horrible temper, and she used it to remind him that he wasn’t to take revenge for the wrongs people did to him. God would take care of it.”
“And did He? Did God take care of it?”
“I guess so.” Brett shrugged. “I never paid any attention to who Da was ranting about or why. He overreacted at times, so I just tuned him out.”
Ian snorted a soft laugh then gazed into the fire and fell silent.
“I’m really sorry about Marie.”
“I loved her.”
“I know you did. Do. And I can’t even imagine what you feel right now.”
The rage had faded, leaving... numbness. Emptiness. “Hollow.” He sighed. “I’m so tired. I just want to go home. Get as far from here as possible.”
“I’m game. I say we track down Allied troops and get our butts on the first plane home.”
Ian nodded. Life would start anew back in the States. The memory of the taste of so much blood called to the wolf. He turned away from it. Then, because only his best friend would overlook such weakness, he let the grief come and wept.
* * *
Home of Ian Campbell, Pack Alpha
Campbell Wildlife Preserve
Outside Flagstaff, Arizona
Wednesday, April 25, 2017
Hands folded behind his back, Ian stared out the window of his office, afraid to face Tanya, his gentle-natured daughter-in-law. His story would be a horror to her, but he couldn’t lie about such a pivotal time in his life. Finally, after a long silence, he glanced over his shoulder.
Tears rolled down her face. There was no fear. No disgust. No horror. Only sorrow and compassion. He didn’t deserve the latter.
“I’m sure you’ve noticed that I don’t get involved in situations where killing may become necessary.” He cocked his head to study her. “Like when Kelly’s father captured you and when we were hunting the men who Turned you.”
She sniffled and nodded. “Now that you mention it, yeah.”
“I leave such things to Brett, especially if there’s killing to do.”
“Why?”
“Because... I enjoyed killing all those men. For those days, I reveled in the taste of blood, the stench of fear as I ripped into them. I enjoyed it and almost lost my humanity in the process.” He sighed. “Brett got me back after Dresden, but I’m not sure he could do it again, so I avoid hunting and killing humans and werewolves. Hunting animals doesn’t feed the bloodlust, but humans and werewolves are another matter entirely.”
“I understand.” Tanya nodded with a faint smile. “I’m so sorry about Marie. It was horrible what happened to her.”
He nodded. “The funny thing is, I think God knew what He was doing all along.”
“What do you mean?”
“I doubt it would’ve worked out. Marie didn’t know what I was. I’d hidden it from her. I’m not sure she’d have seen me as any less of a monster than she did the Nazis. She would’ve feared me, probably hated me for hiding the truth. I would never have been able to keep it from her once we were married and living together.”
Tanya shook her head. “No. That wouldn’t have been possible, I don’t think.”
“I lost her. Nearly lost my humanity and my soul in the process. But ultimately, God knew what He was doing. When I was ready, He brought Alison into my life. If I’d married Marie and brought her to the States, my life would’ve been different after the war. I wouldn’t have met Alison and had Colin. I wouldn’t go back and change that for anything.”
“I’m certainly glad you had him.” Tanya smiled.
An infant’s cry from the room across the hall pulled their attention from the conversation.
“That would be your grandson wanting to eat.” She closed her notepad and got to her feet. “I’ll type all this up and get it back to you for fact-checking tomorrow. Probably. Assuming Duncan doesn’t keep us awake all night again. He hasn’t slept much today either. He’s been temperamental and lethargic. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he’d picked up a virus or something.”
“He’s affected by the dark moons as strongly as his mother, is he?”
“Probably.” She hesitated then closed the distance between them and slipped her arms around his waist to hug him. “I’m sorry. We probably should’ve waited until next week to talk about these things, instead of doing it during the week of the dark moon.”
“I’m okay.”
Tanya released him and stepped back, doubt written all over her face.
“Really, I am.” He smiled to reassure her. “It was a very long time ago. The memories don’t haunt me as they did years ago.”
Skepticism remained, but she nodded then left the room to tend to her son.
Ian stared out the window across the green meadow behind the house. Over the years, he’d forgotten Marie’s face, so why couldn’t he forget the taste of Nazi blood and the pleasure and sense of power their terror had sent coursing through him? He shuddered.
1980: Pack
Outside Flagstaff, Arizona
Tuesday, May 13, 1980
“ARE YOU SURE about this?” Ian Campbell stripped off his shirt and shoved it into a backpack. His skin pebbled in the chilly evening air. As the sun had set, the temperature had dropped. It would soon be below freezing. There’d been a bit of drizzling rain earlier that day. The dampness in the air made the cold more apparent. And more penetrating. He shivered.
His friend, Brett Mitchell, shoved a shirt and pants into the pack. “We can familiarize ourselves with the area tonight when humans are less likely to be out here and find a place to run tomorrow where they don’t go. If we stay busy, tomorrow’s dark moon will pass without so much trouble.”
“I’ll be fine. I’ve been doing better.” Yeah, so the guilt had been eating at him lately, but he could cope. He’d dealt with it for a long time. This new moon wouldn’t change that.
Brett snorted. “Yeah, right. I’ve known you for how long? And you seriously think I can’t tell when you’re struggling with that old guilt? Please.
I’m downright insulted that you think I could be so easily deceived.”
Ian smiled. It had been worth a try, though futile. Brett was right. They’d known each other too long, and Brett was too good at reading his moods, for his friend to buy such a claim. Sometimes that fact was reassuring. Sometimes. He finished removing his clothes, shoved them into the bag, along with his hiking boots, and Shifted into the wolf. Warm fur soon blocked out the frigid air. He waited for his friend.
After a few moments, Brett zipped the backpack closed, Shifted into his wolf, and hoisted the backpack by one of the straps.
Nose to the ground, Ian led the way deeper into the forested mountains, seeking an end to the human scents that permeated even the game trails. Deer, elk, bear, and mountain lion all lay under and over the smell of humans. He trotted on until human scents faded and then completely disappeared. Much better. His eyes followed the contours of the land, seeking a place for Brett to stash their belongings.
A rock outcropping with a couple of trees growing against it looked promising. He approached with caution, sniffing, ears perked, in case another creature had found that spot to take shelter. It was clear. He stepped back and glanced at Brett, who shoved the pack into a gap at the base of one of the trees.
Then they went on the hunt. Deer and elk flourished in that forest. Ian’s mouth watered at the possibility of warm, fresh meat.
* * *
Exercised and well-fed, Ian and Brett headed back to where they’d left the bag containing their clothes. They’d spend the day sleeping there, run that night, and return to human form the following day after the dark moon had passed.