by Chris Fox
Slay him, Ka-Dun. He is less than nothing. His weapon cannot harm you.
The voice shocked Blair, and he jerked erect without thinking. It was a mistake. The old man stroked the trigger, and the gun roared. Acrid smoke burned his eyes as a cloud of pellets took him in the chest. The force of the blow hurled him backward, knocking the table into Liz and sending him sprawling. He couldn’t draw in a breath, but he managed to roll onto his stomach. He was still struggling to his feet when he heard the growl.
Liz had been knocked from her chair, but she flipped to her feet so rapidly that only his new senses allowed him to see more than a blur. The blanket was pooled at her feet, and her entire body began to tremble. Her eyes were malevolent pools of amber, bestial and enraged. She tilted her head backward, canines elongating even as a deep howl burst from her like the vengeance of the damned.
It shook the room, sending the old man staggering back into the refrigerator. His hands shook as he snapped the shotgun open and tapped out the shells. He fumbled at a drawer that probably contained more rounds as his wife ran shrieking from the room.
Liz continued her transformation, auburn fur bursting from every part of her body. It raced to cover her nakedness as her body swelled. She grew taller, more muscular. Claws burst from each finger. Bones broke as a wolf’s muzzle replaced her face. It all happened so fast, no more than a few heartbeats. Then a nine-foot monstrosity stood where the beautiful woman had been.
The beast lunged, wicked claws punching through the man’s abdomen with a sickening crunch of bone. The shotgun clattered to the floor as one of her furry arms hefted him effortlessly. Hot blood rained to the linoleum, and the man’s heart raced like a rabbit. Blair staggered to his feet, wanting to stop her but knowing it was impossible.
Not so, Ka-Dun. You are a shaper. Impose your will and she will obey.
“How?” Blair cried, staring in horror.
It was too late. The beast sank her fangs into the old man’s neck, nearly severing his spine as she tore violently at his flesh. Blood painted the room, fountaining across her auburn fur until she resembled an avenging demon Hollywood would envy. The old woman bolted down the hall, barreling out the front door with a shriek that wouldn’t end. The beast took a step as if to follow.
Blair wasn’t sure what he did, but something surged within him. It was the same fire he’d felt when he first changed, a crackling energy that threatened to burst from him. He grabbed at it, using it to fuel something.
“Stop,” he roared. Power suffused his words, lending a palpable authority. The beast paused and then turned to face him. Blood dripped down a chest recognizably human, even under all that fur. Every muscle strained to reach him, claws flexed in anticipation. She wanted to destroy him. He could feel the malevolence, feel her struggling against his will. How long before she broke free and killed him?
Chapter 29- Clash of Wills
Liz was terrified. She stared down at Blair through alien eyes, powerless to control the actions of the monstrous body she now inhabited. She was not alone. A palpable presence lurked within her, exposed now that she’d somehow unleashed it. The thing was all rage, wrapped in a fury so potent that it frightened her even more than her helplessness. Below her Blair glared upwards, blood-speckled shoulders squared and face locked in grim determination. Something lurked in the recesses of those deep brown eyes, a power and authority he’d lacked before.
“Stop…fighting me,” Blair said, taking a step closer. His face hardened, determination and anger etched there. “I know the beast wants you to kill. I know that better than anyone possibly could. But I also know you can fight it. You can control it. Fight the beast, Liz. Take back your power.”
He is a shaper, Ka-Ken. His witchery is all that keeps us from rending his frail little body. Join your will to mine, and we will slay this impudent male.
No! she railed, screaming within the confines of her head. Frustration and anger formed an alloy of resolve. She wasn’t helpless. I will not help you murder him. Give me my body back.
We are one, Ka-Ken. If this form displeases you, then change it. But first let us deal with the shaper. Let us smash his witchery and feast on his flesh.
I said no. He’s the only one who knows what’s happened to me, she shot back, gird in a grim armor of determination. Why don’t you flee back into whatever corner of my mind you were hiding in? Go. Away.
This one will stop us from killing the unblooded who fled. She will alert warriors that we lack the energy to fight. She must die.
No. I won’t let you kill her. Now give me back my body, she roared, voice echoing in her mind. She had to regain control before anyone else died. Her will strained against the beast’s, wrestling for dominance. The beast was strong, implacable. Yet so was she. She marshaled all the fury, all the humiliation, all the pain and confusion. No more.
Your will is strong, Ka-Ken. I relinquish control, but be wary. His kind are treacherous. They lack honor.
Just like that, the struggle ended. The voice, whatever it was, receded into the shadowed recesses of her mind. She became aware of her body, suddenly in control of the hulking form. It was unfamiliar but dizzyingly powerful. She possessed a strength she’d never imagined. Her senses were alive. She could taste the blood on the walls, smell the family of mice under the floor boards. Blair’s heartbeat thundered around her. Yet none of that power would enable her to move so much as a muscle. Whatever Blair was doing had stopped everything but her breathing and heartbeat.
Liquid fire roiled within her. She hurled it against her captor, unsure of what she was doing or why. A burning desire for freedom blazed within. Panic mixed with indignation. It was far worse than claustrophobia, something she’d wrestled with her entire life.
“Fine. You want me to let you go? I will,” Blair said, heartbeat slowing. He still glared up defiantly. “Just remember that her death will be on your hands. Can you deal with that, Liz?”
Blair took a large step back, tensed muscles finally relaxing. The force holding her vanished. It didn’t fade. It was just gone. Sudden fatigue washed over her as the fury dissipated. She just wanted to sleep. To hide from what happened to her, even if it were only for a few hours. She sagged to her knees, muzzle resting against a chest covered in gore-slicked auburn fur.
Her muscles spasmed violently as something receded within her. Every part of her skin itched as fur slithered back within her body. Bones cracked and popped as her body reorganized itself. The pain was immense, but it was fleeting. Within moments she lay naked on the linoleum, ragged sobs bursting out. Several moments later, a blanket settled over her, covering her from the neck down. It was a small kindness, but an important one. She wasn’t alone.
“I just killed a man. Ripped him apart in front of his wife. I murdered him.” She tasted the words, looking for the emotion they lacked. Why didn’t she feel anything? That was going to catch up with her.
“Do you drink?” Blair asked.
The question bewildered her. It was too normal.
“Let me see what I can find,” he continued as if she’d answered. His form moved behind her, and a moment later the refrigerator door creaked open. “Aha. Beer.” Bottles clinked; then she heard the familiar hiss as he popped the tops. She rose into a sitting position, clutching the blanket to hide both her nakedness and the remnants of the murder she’d committed. Blair turned from the counter and offered her a Corona. She took it numbly.
“I’m struggling to get my mind around this too, but we have to focus on what we can do now. We have to get out of here. Someone must have heard that shotgun blast and probably the screams. Liz, we can’t stay.”
“Let me think for a minute. I just need a sec,” Liz replied, taking a long swallow. The cool liquid slid down her throat, tangy and familiar. She stumbled to her feet, careful to drop neither the beer nor the blanket. The TV still droned in the background. The scenario was shockingly normal. “The wife will run to her closest neighbor, and they’ll call the police. It w
ill probably take some time for them to respond, but you’re right. They’re coming. We have to get out of here. But where do we go?”
“Should we see if they have any money? Maybe some clothes?” Blair suggested, gaze filled with something unreadable. Did she look that horrible? She probably wouldn’t have been able to look at him either if their roles had been reversed.
“You’re right,” she agreed with a tight nod. Gulping down the rest of the beer fueled her resolve. It was liquid courage. “I’ll search the bedroom for clothes. See if you can find some money in the kitchen. Most people don’t trust the bank here, so they usually keep something stashed. It could also be in the bedroom.”
She didn’t wait for a response, setting the empty bottle on the counter and heading for the hall. Exhaustion pulsed through every muscle, leaving her a trembling wreck. She threaded the wreckage in the kitchen, ignoring the sweet smell of blood and choosing to focus on the familiar tang of the beer. The hallway was dark, but she had no problem making out the picture frames on the wall, and the dark carpet that muffled her steps. It led to a small room at the back of the house, cluttered with dark, bulky shapes and the musty scent of mildew. Liz fumbled a hand along the wall near the doorway, probing until she located the light switch. She gave it a flick, revealing too much about the couple who’d called this place home until her arrival.
The room was dominated by a queen-sized bed draped with a floral-print comforter and enough pillows to supply a Boy Scout troop. The bed was flanked by mismatched nightstands, one holding the brass lamp that had sprung to life when she’d flicked the light switch. The other held a tattered bible and an old green rotary phone. It also held two drawers that were as good a place to start as any. Liz sat heavily on the bed. She slid open the top drawer, revealing a pile of old pictures. Near the back of the drawer was a small black wallet, the sort her grandfather might have used.
Hating herself, she plucked it from the pictures and checked the contents. A small wad of multicolored bills stared back at her. It wasn’t a fortune, but it would get them away from here and maybe hire a boat to take them to Mexico. Hot tears rained down on the bills. This had to be a nightmare. She wasn’t a killer. Werewolves didn’t exist. She was going insane.
A floorboard creaked behind her.
“I couldn’t find any money, but there’s some clothes in the hall closet,” Blair said, appearing in the doorway. He seemed reluctant to enter. “Hey, we should get moving. Did you find anything?”
“Money,” she said, sudden rage surging. She held the wallet up, hot tears still streaming. It was too much. “That’s enough to hire a boat. To get us to Mexico at least.”
“I get it, Liz. This all sucks. Monumentally,” he said, buttoning an awful Hawaiian shirt. “We have no idea what we’ve become, or how. Mohn wants us. The police will be after us now too. The best thing we can do is get out. That will save lives. You saw what happens when we’re threatened. If we want to protect people, we have to keep moving. Then maybe we can piece together what’s happened to us. Maybe even find a cure.”
“I just need a minute,” she whispered, refusing to look at him.
“All right, I’m going to pack some food and get dressed. Make it quick,” he said, disappearing back up the hallway. She envied his composure in the face of mythological monsters.
On a whim, Liz picked up the phone. She held the hideously green plastic to her ear. The dial tone brought her a small piece of sanity in an ocean of impossibility. Trevor would know what to do. She dialed the number methodically, waiting as the dial reset after each digit. There was a series of clicks as it routed her to the United States, and then it finally began ringing. What time was it? That probably didn’t matter. Her brother was a night owl. He always had been.
“This is Trevor,” he answered, his voice a rock she clung to.
“Thank God. I was so worried I’d get your voice mail. Trevor, I’m scared,” she said. Suppressing a sob of relief took everything she had. She stood from the bed, clinging to the phone’s base to her chest as she faced a cracked full-length mirror. She needed clothes. “I’m in trouble. People are dead. There’s blood everywhere. I don’t know what to do.”
Chapter 30- La Multa
Blair closed the bedroom door, affording Liz the privacy he’d have wanted were the roles reversed. Unfortunately, his new hearing made that impossible. Her ragged pulse beat a staccato against his temples. The voice on the other end of the phone cracked like thunder.
“Liz? Hey, it’s gonna be ok,” he said with empathy. “Calm down. Start at the beginning. Whatever it is, we’ll get through it. Where are you?”
“I don’t know. Somewhere in north Peru, near Cajamarca,” she explained, sucking in shallow little breaths as she fought for control. Her heartbeat slowed. “I’m traveling with a…man. I don’t really know him. There are men chasing us. Men with guns.”
“Guns? Liz what the hell happened?” Trevor fired back, voice exploding through the receiver. “Is he holding you against your will? Can you go to the police?”
Blair strode up the hallway, toward the kitchen, wishing he could turn off his hearing.
“I don’t think they can help. These men, they’ve got rifles and military gear. There was a helicopter. They work for a company called Mohn Corp.” Liz‘s voice softened despite the gravity of her words. “This man I’m traveling with, Blair, he’s an anthropologist. He found something, and these soldiers want it. They’ve tried to kill us both. They did kill my friend. Listen, Trev. How I got involved isn’t important. I’m scared, and I need to find a way home. Can you help me?”
“Of course, Liz. Just tell me what you need me to do.”
Blair entered the kitchen and cracked open the fridge door. It stopped after just a few inches, blocked by the still-warm corpse Liz’s alter ego had just slain. After all that had happened, he was simply too exhausted to react in any sort of rational way. He reached in and grabbed another beer, popping the top with his thumb. It was a fear he couldn’t have managed just a few days ago. One of many changes he couldn’t explain. He needed to find answers and find them quickly. What had he become? What kind of psychopath would have left such a plague?
You insult the Mother, Ka-Dun. The Ark is the vessel of your salvation. The champions are the slim shield staving off your species’ annihilation.
He jerked violently around, spilling his beer as he searched the kitchen for the speaker. There was no one, of course. The voice was in his head, but it still rattled him. He couldn’t shake the feeling that it was coming from behind him, even though there was no direction in his mind.
“What are you?” he asked aloud, partly to muffle the conversation in the bedroom. “What do you want with me?”
I am your guide. It is my duty to shape you into the weapon that will defend your people.
“Thus far all you’ve done is slaughter everyone around me. Who are my people? And what am I defending them from?” he asked. This was the most forthcoming the voice had been. Blair leaned against the counter, sipping his beer in deliberate protest of the carnage.
I have killed because you do not yet have the will to do so. It is your purpose, your reason for existence. You must cull the unblooded before it is too late. The enemy’s return is imminent. The sun will soon enter the next phase of the cycle.
“The enemy? No more riddles. No games. I want answers,” he growled, wishing the beast had a physical form he could attack. He recognized the feeling as something that would have been out of character just a few days ago. The realization chilled him. “Why are you talking to me, anyway? You’ve been silent for days.”
The moon provides sacred sustenance when she is large in the sky. Her energy gives us strength. Without this I must sleep. This leaves you vulnerable. This is why you must husband your strength, why you must learn.
“Who are you talking to?” Liz asked from the doorway. Her sudden appearance startled him. How had she snuck up on him like that?
“You k
now who. The voice,” he riposted, setting the half-empty Corona on the counter. “You’ve got one too, don’t you? Like a whisper in the back of your mind. Something that takes control when we sleep, that turns us into that thing.”
“Yes,” Liz answered, pausing for an eternity before taking a tentative step into the kitchen. “It’s there, lurking. I can feel it slithering through my mind. Watching even when I’m in control. It’s especially bad tonight. Stronger. Do you think that has something to do with the moon?” Her words were an eerie echo to the beast's.
“It must be. Every myth about werewolves ties them to the moon, especially the full moon. Maybe it’s some sort of radiation, or…well, shit. I don’t know a lot about physics or astronomy, but there must be some scientific explanation,“ he rambled, letting the ideas flow as he considered the ramifications. He met Liz’s gaze. “I need to get back to the pyramid. If I can get access to my notes and some of the photos, I can figure out who left this and why they did it. The answers to whatever we are now are up there. I know it.”
“We both know what we are now,” Liz shot back unflinchingly. She righted one of the chairs and sank heavily into it. The ankle-length skirt and the baggy white blouse she now wore must have come from the bedroom. “Let’s face facts. We’re werewolves. No more ‘what we’ve become.’ Just call us what we are.”
“Fine, we’re werewolves. I’ll stick to that. So, are you willing to help me get back to the pyramid?” he asked, immensely relieved to have someone to discuss the situation with. He moved to the second chair, sitting just a few feet away.
“Are you crazy?” She gaped at him like he’d gone insane. Maybe he had. “If we try to get back there, Mohn will kill us. I bet they have a whole army by now. There’s no way we’d even get close. Blair, we have to run. To get somewhere that we can investigate what’s happened to us. Maybe if we understand that, we can reverse it.”