Emily Shadowhunter 2 - a Vampire, Shapeshifter, Werewolf novel.: Book 2: WOLF MAN

by Craig Zerf

  ‘Right,’ he said. ‘It’s time. Let’s do this.’

  The eleven of them strode across the street to the club entrance. There was a short queue outside. Maybe six people. Al dressed in faux Victorian garb, black overcoats, lacy shirts and Goth makeup.

  At the door stood two bouncers. Both looked human. Big men with ill fitting black suits, shaven heads and permanent sneers.

  ‘Go home,’ Tag told the wannabees. ‘Club’s being closed for the night. Health code violations.’

  ‘Hey,’ yelled one of the Goths. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean that if you stay here it’s gonna be real bad for your health. So piss off,’ snapped Tag.

  The queue melted into the night as the Goths decided that discretion was the better part of valor.

  Then, before the doormen could do anything about it, the Purebloods simply forced them inside, pushing them in like they were herding a pair of oxen. Tag closed the doors and thread the chain through the handles, pulling it tight and locking it with a large iron padlock.

  ‘What the hell do you think that you’re doing?’ Shouted one of the doormen.

  Tag was about to punch him out but before he could, two of the Purebloods drew their silenced MP5 submachine guns and put a three round burst into each of them, killing them instantly.

  ‘Jesus man,’ yelped Tag. ‘Damn it. Why?’

  ‘Lucas’ orders,’ replied sergeant Jacob Hunt. ‘Anyone who works for the vamps gets taken out. No mercy. We’re at war and that’s how you win a war.’

  Tag looked at the man, noting the expression in his eyes. They were cold. Unfeeling. Professional.

  ‘Okay,’ agreed the Yardie. ‘But next time keep me in the loop.’

  ‘Whatever,’ shrugged the Pureblood. ‘Let’s move.’

  They walked into the club. Tag was impressed with the way the Purebloods handled themselves. No one rushed. There was no running, no extraneous movement. They were quick, thorough and methodical.

  And deadly.

  Like the vamp clubs that Tag had been to before, this was a simple variation on the theme. Scattered tables and chairs, curtained booths, low lighting. Young men and women lying down, or slumped across tables while the blood suckers fed on them. The lighting in the club was predominantly dark red and it made blood appear to be black. The whole vista was a B-grade version of hell.

  The muzzle flashes of the automatic weapons stitched lines of light across the room as the Purebloods opened up, killing all who were there.

  The silenced weapons sounded like a myriad of giant typewriters or dot-matrix printers. A deep purring sound that was completely at odds with the destruction that they wrought.

  Vamps sprang to their feet and attacked but the Purebloods were no ordinary humans and the leeches couldn’t even get close before one of the soldiers had filled its face with silver tipped lead, blowing it apart so that they had no chance of healing.

  Then they saw the other group of Purebloods that had entered from the rear. They had cleared and secured the back half of the building and they nodded as they met in the middle.

  Seconds later a pack of snarling, blood coated werewolves came sprinting out of the stairwell and into the main club area.

  Tag counted them. Five, all present. Obviously the top floors had been cleared as well. One of the purebloods fired his weapon at the DJ booth, shredding the sound equipment and the room fell into silence.

  The pack led the way out of the back of the building and, just before they exited, one of the Purebloods threw a brace of thermite grenades in and closed the door. There was a dull crump from inside the building and flames started to lick at the windows and doors, hungry to consume and destroy.

  ‘Hey,’ snapped Tag. ‘That fire could spread.’

  ‘Collateral damage,’ answered Jacob. ‘Total war means total commitment.’

  Tag felt uncomfortable as he followed the wolves and their brothers back to the transport so that they could get to the next club. He was in way over his head and he wished that he was back with Em. At least then he knew his mission parameters. Defend Emily Hawk. Give your life for hers if need be. Nice and simple with no gray areas.

  The Midnight Rendezvous jazz club was smaller. Ground floor. The wolves went in the back and the Purebloods flooded through the front entrance like a tidal wave of retribution.

  Once again Tag was both shocked and impressed at the cold professionalism they displayed as they dispatched their targets.

  The whole thing was over in less than a minute. Then Tag heard shouting from the back of the club and, when he went to investigate, he found a locked door. Behind it people were yelling to be let out.

  One of the wolves simply ran at the reinforced oak door and smashed it out of the way. The room held around six young humans, both male and female, their expressions a mixture of relief at being rescued and fear at the sight of the werewolves.

  ‘Thank God,’ gasped one of them. ‘They locked us in here. They’re real vampires,’ he continued. I swear, actually real blood-sucking undead. They were going to eat us.’

  ‘It’s okay,’ assured Tag. ‘It’s over.’

  But before the captives could leave the room two of the Purebloods opened up on them, filling the area with a fusillade of lead, cutting them to the floor. Killing them instantly.

  Tag grabbed one of the shooters by his neck. ‘What are doing?’ He shouted. ‘They’re kids. Prisoners of the vamps. Innocents.’

  Jacob slapped Tag on the side of the head, hard enough to spin him around. ‘There are no innocents,’ he snapped. ‘They were fraternizing with the leeches. They are tarnished by association. All familiars must die. All suppliers, all friends, all knowledge. All must die. Wake up, Tag,’ he continued. ‘The Pack have fought this war before. No time for mister nice guy.’

  The big Yardie took a deep breath and shook his head. ‘It’s not right, man,’ he argued. ‘It’s just not right.’

  Jacob nodded in agreement. ‘No,’ he said. ‘It isn’t. But it’s the only way to win the war.’

  They exited via the rear entrance, lobbing a bunch of thermite grenades into the building as they did.

  The Pack had struck their first blow.

  Chapter 12

  Tag had left Charlie team in London and returned to the forest hideout. He told Alpha Lucas Cain that he needed to get back to Emily, as he was officially her bodyguard. And anyway, his work was done. The team had more than enough information regarding the vamps and their London based clubs.

  But if he was honest to himself, Tag had to admit that he had left because he just didn’t think that he could participate in another raid. Killing vamps was one thing, he had nothing against that. In fact, he enjoyed it. But exterminating their familiars, innocent participants and mere employees did not sit well with the big man. It was too close to murder and he simply couldn’t stomach it.

  But now he was back he was starting to get bored. There is a limit to how much one could train in a day, so he had taken to hanging around in the Prof’s lab in the afternoons and early evenings. Tag found the old man interesting, knowledgeable and entertaining. Also the Prof welcomed his help and Tag needed to be useful.

  The Prof mumbled to himself as he placed a hand grenade on the desk. Next he picked up a small canister, about the size of a can of soda. It was painted dull green and the top was open. He proceeded to pack a thin lining of plastic explosive around the inside, leaving a hollow well in the middle. Then, into the well, he poured a large quantity of silver powder. Silver metal ground up as fine as baking powder. After that he placed a detonator into a lid, screwed the lid on and attached a manual activator onto the top of it.

  ‘Wassup, Prof?’ Asked the big man.

  ‘Something that I’ve been playing with,’ answered the professor. ‘The grenade is simple. All I did was take out the steel balls that they use for shrapnel and replace them with silver. Bang - and a nasty surprise for the vamps. They only thing is that it’s a little indiscrim
inate. Hard to avoid injury to innocents. Could be a bit of a problem with collateral damage.’

  Tag snorted. ‘I wouldn’t worry about that, Prof,’ he commented. ‘The Purebloods genuinely don’t give a monkey’s about collateral damage. Anything or anyone gets in their way, they simply break it or kill it.’

  The Prof raised an eyebrow. ‘I take it that you don’t approve.’

  ‘Do you?’

  Professor Brownstone shook his head. ‘Not at all. Human life is precious. Vampires are, ostensibly, already dead, so whatever happens to them doesn’t bother me in the slightest.’

  ‘Well you and me are in the minority, prof,’ said Tag. ‘It’s all total war and such-what. Whatever the hell that means.’

  ‘Hmm, Total War,’ mused the Prof. ‘Technically, that would be a military conflict in which the contenders are willing to make any sacrifice in lives and other resources to obtain a complete victory.’

  ‘Yeah, I’d say that pretty much sums it up,’ agreed Tag. ‘I suppose that they’re correct but personally, I can’t take it.’

  ‘Well maybe this little chap here will help,’ said the Prof as he picked up the soda can grenade. ‘A small explosive to act as a dispersant to the silver powder. I’m hoping that you throw this into a room. Bang. Fills the air with microscopic bits of pure silver. The vamps breathe it in and it burns the living hell out of their insides.’

  Tag smiled. ‘Sounds cool. Also, shouldn’t harm the humans. What about the wolves?’

  The Prof shook his head. ‘Silver doesn’t bother them. It’s a myth started by the Brothers Grimm fairy tales. Rubbish.’

  ‘So will it work?’

  The Prof shrugged. ‘I think so. What I really need is a test subject.’

  ‘What, you mean like a captive vamp to experiment on? Not sure how ethical that is, prof,’ suggested Tag.

  ‘What do ethics have to do with a dead thing?’ Asked the professor. ‘That is like saying that one shouldn’t experiment on a side of beef. Worse, an evil side of beef. Believe me, mister Tag,’ he continued. ‘I have no qualms about conducting any experiments on an undead leech. Far from it.’

  Tag thought for a while before he spoke. ‘I can get you one,’ he said.

  ‘How?’

  Not sure. Where there’s a will, there’s a way.’

  ‘Not always,’ disagreed the Prof. ‘Sometimes, where there is a will there is a dead person with his throat torn out by a vampire.’

  Tag laughed. ‘Yeah, not as well known an expression but I get where you’re coming from. Anyway, I’ll put some thought into it. Maybe one of the superhumans can give me a hand.’

  ‘They’re not superhuman, Tag,’ countered the Prof as he tinkered with a detonator. ‘They are simply preternatural. To put it bluntly, they are not human. Emily, William, the Purebloods, myself. Not human. You are human. And believe me, there is nothing to be ashamed of about that.’

  ‘I know,’ said Tag. ‘It’s just that I feel so bloody inadequate. Everyone is faster, stronger, better than me.’

  ‘No,’ disagreed the Prof. ‘Faster and stronger, yes. Better? I think not. Anyway, what do you see as your biggest asset?’

  ‘I used to say my strength,’ answered Tag. ‘I was always stronger than anyone that I ever met. Must say, it’s been a steep ride downhill from those days.’

  ‘So you want to be enhanced, do you?’ Asked the Prof.

  ‘Obviously,’ answered Tag. ‘Doesn’t everyone?’

  ‘Maybe. It’s not that complicated, you know.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Asked Tag.

  ‘To enhance someone. A human, that is. It’s not that difficult. I mean, anabolic steroids increase strength. Caffeine helps mental alertness. It’s not that difficult.’

  ‘Well, maybe,’ admitted Tag. ‘If you want to be a steroid raging caffeine addict, then you might obtain a small advantage. But the pluses don’t outweigh the minuses.’

  ‘I wasn’t being literal,’ continued the Prof. ‘What I am saying is that I could put together a potion that would magically enhance you. Well, it would enhance whatever is your strongest attribute. Be that strength, speed or mental acuity.’

  ‘Are you serious?’ Asked Tag, wide eyed. ‘And it would work?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ assured the Prof.

  ‘And it’s safe?’

  The professor shrugged. ‘Define safe. There are elements of risk involved but I would say that it’s safer than going into a fire-fight with a room full of vamps, and you’ve done that unscathed.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me this before?’

  ‘I didn’t know that the whole being human thing upset you so much. Actually, I’m still not sure why it does.’

  ‘That’s ’cause you ain’t human, Prof. You’re some sort of million year old super-intellect.’

  ‘Not quite, but I get your point. Anyway, would you like to give it a bash?’

  ‘Would I? Man, do turkeys hate Christmas? Of course I would.’

  ‘Fine. Won’t take more than a few hours to put together,’ said the Prof. ‘I’ll need to take some blood.’

  Tag was already rolling up his sleeve for the needle. ‘Go for it.’

  The Prof rummaged around in one of his trunks and came out with an old fashioned glass and steel needle and syringe that was attached to a large glass bottle.

  ‘Whoa,’ exclaimed Tag. ‘Just how much blood do you need?’

  ‘A rather substantial amount, I’m afraid,’ admitted the Prof. ‘Around two full pints.’

  ‘Won’t that kill me?’

  The Prof shook his head. ‘Shouldn’t.’ he said. ‘A healthy male should be able to withstand the loss of up to thirty percent of their blood and still recover.’

  ‘Why so much?’

  The professor sighed. ‘Do you have a spare hundred and eighty years for me to explain?’

  ‘Of course not,’ replied Tag.

  ‘Well that’s how long to took me to get this right. So just accept the fact, I need a lot of blood, it needs to be fresh and it needs to be taken in one go.’

  The Prof tied a tourniquet around Tags right bicep, swabbed his forearm with some alcohol and then slid the thick needle in. The big man grimaced.

  The procedure took much longer that Tag expected. Initially the blood pumped into the reservoir but, after it got to half full, the feed slowed to a trickle and, by the end, it was a mere drip. By now, Tag’s heart was racing in an attempt to get enough blood through his system and sweat was pouring off him. His hearing had dulled and his eyesight had reduced to tunnel vision.

  ‘Go and lie down,’ advised the prof.

  Tag nodded, stood up and immediately crashed to the floor like a felled tree. Slowly he rose onto all fours and crawled to the sofa in the corner of the room, climbed on and passed out.

  ***

  When the big man awoke he could see that it was evening. The lights were on and the drapes drawn. Emily sat next to him, a look of concern on her face.

  ‘Hey,’ he mumbled.

  ‘Hey yourself,’ she replied. ‘Listen, Tag. I’ve been speaking to the Prof and to William. I don’t want you to go ahead with this potion thing.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘It’s not that I don’t trust the Prof, it’s just that…’ Em shook her head. ‘To be honest, I’m not sure. It doesn’t seem right. You don’t know what’s actually going to happen. There could be side effects. You could even die.’

  ‘I could die every time we hit a vamp den,’ pointed out Tag. ‘At least this has an up-side. I could end up being super-strong.’

  ‘How do you know?’ Asked Em.

  ‘The Prof said that it would enhance my greatest attribute. Now I’m not a real deep thinking dude but even I know that my greatest attribute is strength. Well, it was until I met up with all you guys.’

  The Prof walked over. He was holding a beaker full of a pale pink liquid. ‘You’re conscious,’ he stated.

  ‘Apparently,’ concurred Tag.

&
nbsp; ‘Here,’ the Prof handed the beaker to the big man. ‘It’s time. Drink it all.’

  Tag took a suspicious sniff. ‘Smells like strawberry,’ he noted.

  The Prof nodded. ‘That’s because it’s got loads of strawberries in it.’

  ‘Strawberries are magical?’

  ‘No, but they taste good. Now drink it.’

  Tag put the beaker to his lips and drank the entire contents down in one long swig. ‘Tastes great,’ he said. ‘Now what?’

  ‘Now we wait,’ said the Prof. ‘Shouldn’t take long and something will start happening. Usually you start to feel a little warmth spreading through your body. Then a few twinges. Uncomfortable but not to worry.’

  Tag nodded and they waited. And waited.

  After twenty minutes Tag spoke. ‘Nothing’s happening.’

  The Prof raised an eyebrow. ‘It would appear so.’

  ‘Hold on,’ interjected Tag. ‘Wait. I can feel something. Warmth.’ He held his stomach. ‘Actually, real hot,’ he grunted. Then he let out a yelp of pain. ‘Fire. Pain.’ The big man doubled over and grunted. Then he threw his head back and screamed in agony. Blood flowed from his nose and eyes and mouth and he pitched forward onto the floor.

  ‘What the hell is going on?’ Shouted Emily.

  ‘I don’t know,’ admitted the Prof. ‘This has never happened before.’

  Tag started to fit, his teeth ground together, foam bubbled from his mouth and his arms and legs drummed spasmodically on the stone floor.

  Em grabbed him and attempted to hold him still but even her Shadowhunter strength wasn’t enough and the big man thrashed around like a beached fish, smashing furniture and lab equipment.

  The door burst open and William rushed in to help. Between him and Emily they managed to stop Tag hurting himself even more but the fitting continued.

  ‘Do something,’ yelled William at the Prof.

  But the old man shook his head. ‘What?’ he asked. ‘There is no precedent for this.’

  Again a cry of absolute agony tore from Tag’s throat and then, with a final spasm, he went still.