by Craig Zerf
While William and the Pack were out, a group of villagers in a couple of covered trucks had arrived and cleared out the barn. Then they had arranged twenty four camp stretchers along the one wall and a long trestle table and chairs in the middle of the space.
Out of the second truck they unloaded a commercial sized refrigerator that they plugged in and then loaded with meat. Beef steaks. Two inches thick. Hundreds of pounds of bleeding, red meat.
No vegetables.
Next, cases of beer, vodka, brandy and whisky.
Then they left without talking or bidding any farewells.
And now the pack was seated at the table along with Em, Bastian, Tag and Sylvian. Some of them were barbequing piles of steaks on an open fire at the entrance to the barn. Barely heating the meat up before loading it onto large platters and banging it down on the table.
Emily expected them to fall on the food like the pack that they were but instead they sat dead still and waited.
What the hell? She thought to herself. What are they waiting for? Grace?
Then she noticed that they were all staring directly at William. He returned their gazes and, slowly and deliberately picked up a slab of bleeding steak with his hands, took a bite and swallowed.
Still they waited.
Then he nodded and they attacked the food like it was trying to escape.
The pack ate with abandon. Some using knives and forks but the majority simply picking the slabs of bleeding meat up in their hands and literally wolfing down large chunks at a time. Both the women and the men.
No one spoke and after a few minutes the sound of chewing and heavy breathing drove Emily from the table. She excused herself and walked outside to stand next to the fire. Taking a break from the savage and primitive atmosphere inside.
It was only when she was standing outside that she noticed another person. He was tall, around six foot two. Hair to his shoulders, unshaven. The firelight glowed in his eyes. Red and gold and black. He was wearing a white t-shirt, faded jeans and biker boots. A young man. Maybe twenty, maybe twenty two. But then Em remembered that werewolves, like Shadowhunters, aged at a vastly different rate to humans. So he may be as old as seventy or eighty for all she knew.
He nodded at her, acknowledging her presence.
Em noticed that he was smoking and she shook her head. ‘Smoking?’ She asked. ‘Really?’
He grinned and it made his face look younger. Almost a teenager. ‘Yep,’ he admitted. ‘The whole pack smokes. Not sure why. Maybe it’s just the biker, bad boy image. Anyway, it doesn’t do us any harm. We’re immune to stuff like that.’
Em wrinkled her nose. ‘But it smells gross,’ she pointed out.
He shrugged, dropped the butt onto the floor and ground it out under his boot. Then he held out his hand. ‘Troy,’ he said. Troy Erikson.’
‘Emily Hawk.’
He nodded. ‘I know.’
‘Oh, how come?’ Asked Em.
‘You belong to the Omega,’ he answered. ‘So the Pack knows you.’
Em raised an eyebrow. ‘I belong to the Omega?’ She asked. ‘Let me tell you something, wolfyboy,’ she continued. ‘I do not belong to anyone. How dare you?’
Troy flushed with embarrassment and Em couldn’t help but think – Ha, he blushes too. So I’m not the only one who can’t control their autonomic response. Take that, Bastian.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I’m not explaining it well. It is difficult to explain the concept to one who is not Pack.’
‘Well try,’ snapped Em.
‘There are two packs here today,’ said Troy. ‘Each pack is controlled by an Alpha wolf. When we are Pack, not human, we cannot communicate verbally, obviously. All communication is done via body language and the Pack mind.’
‘Pack mind?’ Enquired Em. ‘Not quite following that one.’
Troy took a deep breath as he thought. ‘The Pack is one,’ he said eventually. ‘The Alpha controls the mind of the pack. If the Alpha is hungry, the Pack is hungry. But the Alpha eats first. If the Alpha desires someone then the Pack desires them. But it matters not, as the Pack cannot supersede the Alpha. It is acceptable to challenge the Alpha but it is unusual to do so unless the Alpha has grown old and ineffectual. Now take Sir William. He is Omega. He controls the Alphas. So what he thinks, all Packs think. Except he is unassailable. Unchallengeable. So all packs feel what the Omega feels. He is our mind. He is the Pack. I’m sorry. It’s real difficult to explain.’
‘Okay,’ acknowledged Emily. ‘I think that I get what you’re saying. So, when you stated that I belong to the Omega, what you meant is that the Omega, William, desires me?’
Troy nodded.
‘And so, because of that, the whole pack desires me?’
Again the young werewolf nodded.
Emily went bright red. ‘Oh my god.’ Images of the group of muscular, savage, primal men sitting inside the barn, all thinking lustful thoughts about her made her feel weak with consternation and embarrassment. ‘What about the girls?’ She asked Troy, her voice barely above a whisper.
‘Yes, of course,’ he answered. ‘They are Pack.’
‘But…I…’ Em shook her head. ‘I don’t like that. I don’t want them thinking about me like that.’ She stared at Troy. ‘Or you.’
The werewolf looked puzzled for a moment and then he spoke again. ‘Once again, I’ve messed up. It’s not like you think. Please, you cannot think in human terms, Emily. There is nothing sexual about it. The desire of the Pack is merely an extension of the Omega’s desire. Perhaps I have used the incorrect word. Instead, think love, although that is a human concept, because the Pack would not dare to love the Omega’s mate.’
‘I am not his mate,’ snapped Em.
Before Troy could apologize yet again, the two of them were distracted by the sound of someone chuckling softly. They turned to see Sylvian standing behind them, listening to their conversation. ‘Good evening, Emily,’ he drawled. ‘And you too, young wolf.’
‘I didn’t hear you sneak up,’ said Emily.
‘I wasn’t sneaking,’ countered the Bloodborn. ‘But then again, no one ever hears me approach. Even you.’ He looked at Troy. ‘Go inside, young wolf,’ he commanded. ‘I will explain things to Emily in a way that she will understand.’
Troy nodded his acquiescence and left without saying goodbye.
‘What a bunch of chauvinistic butt-holes,’ said Em.
Sylvian laughed. ‘No, not really.’
‘He basically told me that William owns me and that the whole pack desires me.’
‘He’s young. Bright but still callow. I have been around these boys for hundreds of years now and there is only one way to understand them.’
‘What?’ Asked Emily. ‘Please tell me before I go mental.’
‘It’s simple, really. They are animals. Any attempt to prescribe human thought processes or mores to them is simply ludicrous. They exist on a primal level. Alpha say eat, Pack eat. Alpha say hunt, Pack hunt. Omega like girl, all Packs like girl. It’s very basic. Don’t overcomplicate it or your mind will just go around in circles. Think in straight lines and you won’t go far wrong.’
‘But William isn’t like that,’ argued Em.
‘He is when he is with the Pack. Surely you have noticed the change?’
Em nodded.
‘The man that you first met is still there,’ continued Sylvian. ‘But he is now buried deep under the beast. He is Omega. He is Pack.’ He turned from Emily and headed back into the barn. ‘Come,’ he said. ‘It is time. We need to formulate our battle plan.’
Chapter 5
The food and detritus of the meal had been cleared away and the Pack sat silent. At the head of the table stood William. On his right sat Emily, Sylvian, Bastian and Tag. On his left, Lucas Cain, Alpha of the Protectors M.C. and Jack Wishbone, Alpha of Bad Moon M.C. At the bottom of the table, in the most junior position, was Troy Erikson, or as the pack called him, Puppy.
It had turned out that Em had bee
n spot on when she guessed his age at twenty. He was barely two years older than her and when she found that out she had felt an immediate bond to him, being that everyone else at the table was a minimum of a hundred years older than either of them.
‘Life is suffering,’ said William.
‘To suffer is to live,’ answered the Pack.
‘The strength of the Pack is the Wolf,’ shouted William.
‘And the strength of the Wolf is the Pack,’ they shouted back at him.
‘We gather once again,’ continued William. ‘To do war upon our mortal enemies. For the first time in many years, my pack brothers, we form to bring hurt to the Nosferatu.’
The room vibrated as the Pack growled together. A low, ominous rumbling that made the hair on the back of Em’s neck stand up. She turned to look at Tag and she could see that he was visibly shaken. A mere mortal sitting amongst monsters. In his hands he clutched a bottle of Jamaican rum. Dark, sweet and potent. Em could see that it was already half empty. Dutch courage. She winked at him and he smiled back. And, although his grin was tight and forced, she could see that he felt a little better afterwards.
William laid out what had been happening over the past few months. The extermination of the Shadowhunters. The fight-back of the Yardies and their subsequent murders. The visit from the Morrigan and her news that Merlin was alive. And the fact that Janus Augusta was also still alive and had risen to become the leader of the Nosferatu.
He then explained that the vampires had vastly increased their numbers of late and outnumbered the Pack by at least thirty to one. Perhaps more.
‘That’s not a problem,’ snarled Lucas Cain. ‘They come, we kill them. We win, they die.’
William smiled. ‘I like your attitude, Alpha,’ he admitted. ‘Unfortunately I must say, even for this Pack, there are too many undead. Ten to one maybe. Twenty, possible. But thirty plus? No. They would overwhelm us by numbers alone. And every day they increase their vile population. We need to make another plan.’
Emily raised her hand.
‘Speak, Shadowhunter,’ said William. ‘No need to put your hand up. This is not a school room.’
There was a ripple of laughter around the table and Em blushed. She was pleased to note that Troy didn’t join in with the merriment, he simply looked at her, eyes hooded, waiting for her to talk.
‘Look,’ she said. ‘I’m new to this whole Pack, werewolfy, life is suffering thing, okay? So bear with me. Firstly, is this it? I mean, where are the rest of you?’
‘There are no others in the United Kingdom,’ answered Lucas. ‘Since the end of the Second World War this has been all that there is.’
‘Why?’ Asked Em. ‘What’s the significance of the Second World War?’
‘The vamps were on the side of the Nazis,’ explained Lucas. ‘We fought them to a standstill and lost many hundreds of our brothers and sisters in the process. We were almost eradicated. Although we won, it was a Pyrrhic victory in a very real sense.’
‘I see,’ said Em. ‘Now, don’t take this the wrong way and all, but can’t you just make more werewolves? You know, like bite them and turn them?’
There was a deathly silence in the barn followed by a low growl from some of the Pack.
Tag immediately stood up and placed himself next to Emily.
‘Quiet,’ commanded William. ‘She means no offence.’ He turned to Em. ‘You were not to know,’ he said. ‘But what you have just implied is considered to be a great insult. We are Pack, we are not vampires. Werewolves can only be born through the union of two full werewolves. And even then the trait seldom breeds true. Especially in the female line. However, even if the progeny are not full werewolves, they are usually gifted physically. Stronger, healthier and faster than a normal. But they are still ostensibly ninety-nine percent human. We call them Purebloods. Their blood is all werewolf but the person is human. Purebloods often go on to do professional sports or, more often, join the military. Boxers, cage fighters, SAS. In fact, most of the SAS are purebloods. They are still considered Pack and we keep track of all of them. So, like the Shadowhunters, our numbers are dwindling while the vamps are increasing.’
‘I am truly sorry for my ignorance,’ said Emily. ‘Forgive me, I meant no insult.’
Lucas nodded once in acceptance.
But Em remained standing. ‘Can’t we use the Purebloods then?’ She asked.
‘We can,’ admitted William. ‘We have not done so since the war but precedent allows for it. Although it is a radical route to take. We have to tear many from their lives, their jobs, their very existence.’
‘Will any of them come?’ Asked Emily. ‘I mean, leave their jobs, their families.’
Lucas grinned. ‘If the Omega calls they will come,’ he said. ‘They have no choice in the matter. It’s a biological imperative. However, they do not possess the psychic link that the Omega has with us. The Omega will have to contact them on a personal basis.’
‘Oh well,’ sighed William. ‘Looks like I’m going on a recruitment drive.’
Chapter 6
William, Tag and Emily spent the next few days travelling and talking to people. Mainly men. Mainly military and all Purebloods.
The trip started at Credenhill, on the outskirts of Hereford, the main base for the SAS or Special Air Service, probably the most well known elite fighting force in the world. They arrived at the base where they were greeted by the commanding officer, a major Nightingale. He took the three of them to the drill hall.
In the hall, dressed in rows and standing at attention, were a group of some of the hardest men that Emily had ever seen. She did a quick count and figured that there were thirty two of them.
‘These men and I are all of the Purebloods on base at the moment,’ said the Major. ‘We wait for your command.’
So William told them of the current crises, stressing upon them the seriousness of the situation. Underlining the fact that once more, the Pack was called on to do war against one of mankind’s darkest enemies. Ensuring that they all knew that they were both the first point of the attack, as well as the last line of defense.
He could have simply commanded them to follow and they would have. There was no way that they could not obey the Omega. But like any great leader, William wanted them to understand. He required them to want to follow him.
And they did.
There was no histrionics, no shouting of mottos or cheering. The men simply picked up their kit, and marched outside and climbed into the two waiting transport trucks that the Colonel had already organized.
Minutes later they had all left the camp, knowing that, although they had as good as gone AWOL, their disappearance would be covered up by other Purebloods that were higher ranking in the organization. Much higher ranking.
But William did not stop there. He and his companions moved on to A Squadron in Regent’s Park and then B Squadron in Leeds before they headed home.
It had been a successful trip, during which William, as Omega, had recruited just over one hundred of the fightingest men on the planet.
***
William’s forest hideaway had been transformed into a military camp. Adjacent to the barn ran a row of fifteen tents that had been erected by the SAS Purebloods and, in front of the house a large square had been marked out. The Purebloods used this area to train. Everything from physical training to close combat and weapons. A shooting range had been laid out around one hundred yards from the house, the target area a high earthen bank that the Purebloods had built using picks and shovels.
Emily had been mighty impressed by the speed and efficiency that they had shown, converting the entire area in less than a single day.
At the moment, about twenty of the Purebloods were on the square, sparring together in groups of two, practicing unarmed combat. Moving back and forth, striking and counterstriking. Emily and Tag watched for a while and Em noted that their technique was mainly a combination of karate and boxing. All straight lines and power. The me
thod relied solely upon the proponent being faster and stronger than his opponent.
And when you were a Pureblood competing against a human it worked and it worked well. But against a vamp?
‘What do you think?’ She asked Tag.
‘They’re fast and tough,’ he admitted. ‘Strong too, but not as strong as me.’
‘Yeah,’ concurred Emily. ‘They’re too static. It’s all about attack. They leave themselves open to counterattack. Also, they’re simply not fast enough.’
One of the instructors who was overseeing the training glanced over at Em. ‘What’s that, girl?’ he asked. ‘You saying that my boys are too slow?’
Emily shook her head. ‘I’m saying that they’re too slow as well as being too rigid. They overextend when they attack and they’re far too static. They wouldn’t last two seconds against a vamp, which is a problem.’
As she spoke the rest of the men stopped sparring and turned to stare at her, amazed that a mere female teenager was belittling the combat style of one of the most revered fighting forces in the world.
The man smiled sarcastically. More of a sneer than a confirmation of mirth. ‘So I suppose that you could do better,’ he said. ‘Please,’ he bowed and gestured for Em to step forward. ‘Show us, princess.’
There was a round of laughter from the Purebloods.
Em nodded. ‘Sure,’ she said. ‘Who should I start with?’
‘Well what about me?’ Asked the instructor.
Em shook her head. ‘No, don’t be silly. That wouldn’t exactly be a challenge would it?’
The instructor leered his agreement. ‘True, why don’t you start with Tony over there? He’s just recovered from a broken arm so he’s a little slower than usual. That suit you, princess?’
‘You misunderstood,’ corrected Emily. ‘I meant that taking on one of you wouldn’t prove anything. How about you and these four nice gentlemen here,’ she gestured towards the closest four men to her.
A flicker of disbelief flashed across the instructor’s face but then he recovered and went with it. ‘Fine,’ he said. ‘It’s your party. Come on you four. Front and center.’