Dark Hunt

by Naomi Clark

  “Ayla, we’re looking for Thérèse, remember?”

  I whined again, impatiently. I wasn’t interested in Thérèse. I wanted to find somewhere big and green, crawling with rats and rabbits. I didn’t think Thérèse was anywhere like that. I stepped around my mate, batting her with my tail as I passed.

  She followed, shouting my name with ever-increasing annoyance and desperation. I had reached the end of the street and fastened onto a promising rodent odor, when her voice finally penetrated my brain enough to stop me.

  “Stop... stop...” She panted, running after me. I sat down to nibble at my claws grumpily while I waited for her to catch up. “Ayla, are you actually following Thérèse or are you going off after pizza crusts or something?”

  I growled halfheartedly at her, resenting her for spoiling my fun. It was such a perfect night for a run. A crescent moon hung over the city, throwing slivers of light that were lost amongst the neon signs and street lights. The air was clear and cool and I was sure a treasure chest of fun things to chase and sniff waited for me beyond this street.

  Shannon wasn’t bothered by my growling. She knotted her fingers in my ruff and forced me up, dragging me back to where I’d shifted. I let her, grumbling softly the whole way. Among Thérèse’s discarded clothing, I caught her rich scent again and some human part of me leapt forward, remembering that I was here for a reason. I shook away some of the wolf and let the human take control. I wasn’t ready to shift back, but I couldn’t let my wolf’s desires distract me. I focused, channeling the need to hunt into finding Thérèse. The trail was fresh and warm; she couldn’t be too far ahead.

  With Shannon at my side, I set off again. As we left the dingy street we passed by the enticing rodent smell and I sighed with regret. Once we found Thérèse, I told myself, I could spend as much time as I liked chasing rats.

  Sixteen

  Thérèse led us a merry dance up and down the dark, narrow streets. Her trail circled endlessly, sending me in loops and down one dead end after another. At first I wondered if the alcohol had messed with her wolf senses and got her lost. Then I realized she was looking for a trail of her own.

  It hit me as we left behind the crooked, dilapidated side streets and emerged on one of Paris’s bigger roads, leading down towards the Place de Concorde. Her path straightened out again and entwined with another, sickeningly familiar scent. I froze, a whine escaping my lips as I recognized that rotten bittersweet odor.

  “Ayla?” Shannon crouched down next to me, one hand resting on my back. “What’s wrong?”

  I couldn’t respond. My head spun with bloody, violent flashes of memory and for a second I just wanted to turn tail and run yelping back to the flat. I wanted to drag Shannon back with me. Thérèse couldn’t, she wouldn’t…would she?

  “Ayla?”

  I whined, pushing my nose into Shannon’s palm. I wasn’t ready to give up wolf-shape, but communication between wolves and humans was a fine art. Humans didn’t get body language the way wolves did. I settled for sitting back and inhaling deeply, then shaking my head violently, hoping she’d figure it out.

  Shannon frowned, then understanding snapped into place and she paled, her fingers tightening in my fur. “It’s that thing, isn’t it?” she whispered. “Shit.”

  I growled a response, trying to crush my fear without success. That Thérèse was after Le Monstre was bad enough; that Le Monstre had been on a big, busy road was even worse. Wasn’t the creature worried about being seen? Another sign of desperation? I added that thought to my hibernation-binge feeding theory. Was the vampire reaching some kind of boiling point, needing to hunt as much and as often as possible? For a second, I was tempted to shift back so I could discuss it with Shannon.

  We didn’t have time to chat about the feeding habits of vampires though. Thérèse’s trail was still warm and the vampire’s was fainter. I forced myself to my feet. Thérèse might not actually find Le Monstre, but if she did two wolves were better than one, weren’t they?

  “Do we keep going?” Shannon asked, standing. “I mean, this is a bit more than we expected, isn’t it?”

  I shifted my weight from foot to foot. We had to keep going. I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to Thérèse because we had been too scared. I licked Shannon’s hand, the closest to a kiss I could manage, and turned back to Thérèse and Le Monstre’s trail.

  I stuck close to Shannon as we wound through the streets. There were few pedestrians about, but every time we passed someone I felt angry, suspicious eyes on me. My face throbbed in phantom pain at the memory of the brick-throwing incident, and I kept my head down and my tail tucked in, trying to make myself small and innocent. Shannon kept her gaze straight ahead, ignoring the hostile glances and mutters thrown our way.

  I was relieved when we moved deeper into the maze of back streets, following Le Monstre and Thérèse into silent, dirty alleyways littered with rubbish and stinking of piss and cigarettes. The air felt dead and stale, the slap of Shannon’s boots on the cracked pavement the only sound.

  Le Monstre’s scent was growing stronger. It wormed its way into my brain, calling up old primal instincts and filling my head with images of dark, wet caves and great, thick forests. Hiding places, places where a wolf could tuck herself away and wait for sunrise. I imagined a distant world, foggy and twilit, where werewolves and vampires roamed and humans cowered round their fires, praying we’d be too busy hunting each other to hunt them. I imagined wolves and vampires locked in an eternal, bloody battle for dominance, wolf strength versus vampire cunning and then I realized something.

  I was reading too many Katrina Pagan books.

  “This is horrible,” Shannon whispered. She hugged herself, glancing at the street ahead. The street lights flickered and buzzed, adding to the broken atmosphere. “This is the kind of place where I’d expect to be attacked by a vampire.”

  I was almost hoping for a confrontation. Despite the icy fear crawling through me at the vampire’s scent—or maybe because of it—I wanted this to be over. Stalking through the darkness, down one crappy street after another with no sign of either Thérèse or Le Monstre, was infuriating. How could Thérèse have got so far ahead so fast? On my own, I’d probably have overtaken Thérèse by now, but I could only go so fast without leaving Shannon behind. I growled to myself, trying to suppress my frustration.

  Le Monstre’s path now stuck to these back alleys, away from open streets and main roads. As we followed, I decided the vampire was going to ground. This wasn’t the trail of a creature on the hunt, but one heading home. Good and bad news—if we could corner the creature in its lair, we might have an advantage over it. On the flip side, as all wolves knew, cornered animals fought the hardest. Anxiety for Thérèse spurred me to pick up my pace despite Shannon.

  To her credit, she kept up as I darted down yet another side street. I could hear her gasping as she stuck to my heels and felt a flicker of worry for her, wondering if Le Monstre’s poison was still lingering in her system. I couldn’t slow down though. The sense that we’d wasted time, that Thérèse was in way over her head, fired me on.

  I stumbled over my own feet when we came out of an alleyway onto a main road. This was a change of direction for Le Monstre. Like most of Paris’s big roads, it was wide and lined with tall, pale brick buildings. A few cars shot by, but there were no pedestrians in sight. No nightclubs, restaurants, or bars; these buildings were offices, all silent and dark now. I paused, lifting my head to scent the air. Shannon stopped too, wheezing and leaning against a wall for support. I heard her muttering curses under her breath, but tuned it out, flushed with sudden excitement and dread.

  I knew where we were. I knew where Le Monstre was heading. Shannon and I had walked down this street just a few days ago, heading eagerly for one of Paris’s big tourist attractions. The catacombs!

  I whined to get Shannon’s attention, but she was gasping for air and swearing softly. I huffed, setting my ears back and waited until she s
traightened. Her cheeks were flushed and her breathing still shallow. I felt a flicker of guilt. The catacombs were guaranteed to be an unforgiving hunting ground, no place for humans. She shouldn’t be here, I thought.

  “I’m okay,” she said, as if reading my mind—or maybe my body language. “Come on, let’s go. Or have we lost them?”

  I managed an awkward shake of my head and lowered my nose to the pavement. Still clear and strong, Thérèse’s berries-and earth musk called me on while the vampire’s rotten-sickening-sweet stench warned me off. There was no going back though. I pushed my worries about Shannon’s health aside. She wouldn’t thank me for babying her, she wouldn’t leave me, she’d want to go on with me whatever happened, whatever the risk.

  Alright then. We set off again. I tried to keep my pace steady for Shannon’s sake, but knowing we were so close made it difficult. My wolf-self was in full hunt mode, sensing the end game. My human-self barely managed to temper those instincts.

  We trotted down the street towards the catacombs entrance and Shannon exclaimed softly when the green gateway building appeared. “Wish that bloody tour guide had listened to us,” she told me. “We might be at the top of the Eiffel Tower right now instead of back here.” There was a tremor of fear in her voice, matching the acrid splash of fear in her scent. She was trying hard to mask it, but her body couldn’t lie.

  My guilt returned as my wolf-self wrestled with my human-self. I wanted to find Thérèse desperately; Pack instinct demanded it, but I wanted Shannon safe. I couldn’t bear the thought of seeing her hurt again. The image of the vampire sinking its venomous fangs into her throat was still violently clear in my mind. The wolf reminded me that Shannon was human, dangerously vulnerable and without a weapon of any kind.

  I stopped, flopping to the pavement to shift back to human form. Pain and the cold night air washed over me. I scraped my hands and knees on the pavement as I hauled myself to my feet. Shannon threw her coat over my shoulders, worry etched on her face.

  “What is it, Alya?” she asked me.

  “I think you should go to the police,” I told her.

  She physically recoiled, as if the words were a slap in the face. “Excuse me?”

  “We’re going into the catacombs, Shannon,” I said, trying to sound reasonable. “It’s not safe for you.”

  “It’s not safe for you, either,” she argued. “I’m not letting you go after that thing alone.”

  I started to point out Thérèse would be there, then decided it wasn’t the most convincing argument. “I don’t want you to get hurt, or worse—”

  “Right and I don’t want you hurt or worse,” she cut in, eyes narrowed. “You’re not leaving me out of this, Ayla. You don’t know how hard it was for me to sit around waiting when you went off after Sly, imagining all kinds of horrible things had happened to you.”

  “But—”

  “But nothing. We do this together or not at all.” She took my hand firmly, squeezing my fingers. “You’re not leaving me behind.”

  Together or not at all. The words rang in my ears, holding a far deeper significance than I’m sure Shannon had meant to give them. Like this was our whole relationship over the past several weeks, condensed down to its very essence. I stared at her, drinking in every detail; from her wind-tangled hair down to her scuffed boots. The not at all choked me. I returned the pressure on her hand, smiling weakly.

  “Together, of course,” I said.

  ***

  I dropped back to the ground and quickly into wolf form, grateful for the warmth of my fur. The barred metal gate to the catacombs entrance hung open. Shannon ran her fingers over the gate’s lock. “Ripped open,” she said, pointing out the bent and strained metal. “Thérèse, do you think?”

  More than likely; I didn’t think Le Monstre would give itself away by destroying the entrance to its hideout. Unless it was desperate. Desperate, the word kept coming back to me. I wasn’t sure if it was just wishful thinking on my part. What did I know about vampires? How could I possibly hope to predict how this creature thought?

  Creeping carefully through the gate, Shannon led the way into the entrance house with me shadowing her. She picked through the drawers of the front desk, emerging with a heavy torch, longer and thicker than her forearm. She grunted with the effort of lifting it, but clung to it anyway as we headed down the spiral staircase leading into the catacombs.

  During the day, surrounded by other people, the catacombs had been solemn and hushed. At night, knowing an emotionally-charged werewolf and preternatural killing machine were down in the dark somewhere, the catacombs were sinister. The echoing drip of water was the only sound. The chill creeping off the stone walls and countless bones crept past even my fur. I laid my ears flat against my skull, hackles up. Shannon walked beside me, that heavy torch in one hand, her other hand resting on my head.

  She switched the torch on, sending a too-bright beam of light down the tunnel, bouncing off the polished skulls and worn stones. I’m not ashamed to admit that the light made me feel better. I was scared, walking into the darkness, the tap of my claws on the stone joining the drip of water in a clumsy rhythm; really scared.

  “Which way?” Shannon whispered.

  I scented the air, confused by the fetid water and the hundreds of people who’d tramped through the catacombs already today. But there it was, burning strong over all those over scents: sweet-rot and berries. The vampire and Thérèse. I veered away from the main tunnel down one of the smaller side passages, lined with fewer bones. I already knew where we were heading. The memory of our first trip here and that barred gate beyond which I’d been convinced Le Monstre had made its lair. I hoped my hunch was right.

  Shannon flashing the torch over the walls as we walked, sending bugs skittering for darker corners. “Do you hear that?” she asked me suddenly.

  I flicked my ears, surprised she’d heard it first. My nerves must really be jangling. It was distant but undeniable. Whimpering, echoing softly down the tunnels. It could only be Thérèse. My heart raced and I ran. Shannon cried out, unable to stick to my side as the tunnel grew narrower, the floor more uneven. She fell behind and part of me was secretly glad. If she couldn’t keep up then maybe she’d be safe.

  Thérèse’s whimpers grew louder. My heart beat faster and the wolf took over. Claws scraping on stone, tail whipping against the walls, a snarl building in my throat and suddenly, I came to a crashing halt. A barred gate blocked my way. It was locked. I whined and scratched at the metal, boiling with frustration. Had I taken the wrong tunnel? No. I was sure I hadn’t. Thérèse’s scent was strong; she’d come through not long ago. There was no blood and no signs of a fight and I took it to mean that she’d come through on her own legs, not dragged by Le Monstre.

  Thérèse’s whines—so close and yet so far—clawed at my brain, demanding I do something. Stupidly, I bit at one of the bars, the impact jarring through my teeth and down my throat, and then I barked, as if I could open the gate that way. Seconds later, Shannon skidded to a halt behind me, grabbing the bars and rattling them.

  “Shit! There must be another way in.” She shone the torch against the walls like she was expecting a magic doorway to appear, or that one of the thigh bones lodged in the wall might turn out to be a lever to some secret entrance. “Maybe there’s a key in the office. We might have to go back...”

  I barked, shaking my head. There was no time. Forward was the only way. Somewhere ahead Thérèse barked, feeble and desperate. She was hurt, she was trapped. I knew it. I pawed at the gate again, trying to make Shannon understand. She frowned, handling the rusty padlock.

  “You could probably rip this right off in human shape,” she muttered, tugging at it experimentally. She hefted the torch high and slammed it down on the padlock. A nasty, screeching shring rang through the tunnel and Thérèse’s whines stopped abruptly. The padlock didn’t give. Shannon swore and smashed the torch on it again, then once more, battering the heavy, battery-loaded handle aga
inst the rusted chain. The beam of light flashed on and off and on again. Tortured metallic shrieks grated against my ears and I flinched back from Shannon, fascinated by the grim determination on her face.

  I didn’t notice the smell of rot and sweetness because it lay upwind of us. Not from behind the gate, but from behind us.

  ***

  The vampire flew from the shadows and crashed into Shannon. She screamed, falling into the gate. The torch fell from her hand, light bouncing around the passage and blinding me for a second. My vision cleared in time to see Le Monstre’s face lit by the powerful torch beam in horrible detail as it reared over me.

  Reptilian. That was my first thought. Cold eyes, hissing tongue. That corpse-pale skin, bluish lips pulled back to reveal blood-stained fangs. Fangs aimed right at me.

  Fear iced my blood, froze my muscles and for a long, dreadful instant I thought I was going to die. I wanted to drop and bare my throat, like I would for any dominant wolf. As Le Monstre loomed closer, the smell of death and terror on its breath, I whimpered and cowered back like a cub, mesmerized by the glow in its red eyes. I was helpless. I was dead meat.