Nature of the Beast

by Girl, Breukelen

  “Damn it.”

  “I think it’s time you face it, we need to get her back to Brooklyn, to familiar surrounds so that at least the Doctor can look at her again, she might have something she can give Bg to ease the spasms.”

  “Alright, can you get her dressed? And I’ll bring the car around.”

  “I think it might just be easier if we wrap her in a sheet or something, she’s been in that same curled position for three hours now, it’s like she’s in an iron clamped grip.”

  “Alright,” Paris said jogging back over to the staircase and taking the stairs two at a time till he reached the upstairs landing and quickly disappeared back into the loft bedroom. Re-emerging quickly later with a bunched up red sheet in his hand.

  “Ready?” Booker commented as they worked together to lift Bg off the mattress and place the sheet around her still moving form.

  Paris lifted Bg up into his arms and followed Booker out to the roller door. “I’ll take her in my car and you lead the way back, clearing a path for us.” Paris commented as they walked outside into the alleyway.

  “Do you think that’s wise, given she’s probably not reacting well to your presence, through pheromones as it is at present?”

  “She’s coming with me, end of story.” Paris commented as they walked briskly up the street. “Reach in my back pocket, grab my phone and dial Addison, tell him I need him to bring the Porsche around to meet us here.”

  As Booker did as he was told, he looked down the late night street. There were a few people around, a car or two driving by and the sound of the nightclub could be heard, a block away from them. He looked up at the night sky as he spoke to Addison, Paris’s second in command and best friend.

  The moon was almost at its highest point for the evening. They had maybe another hour before it reached it. He looked back at Bg, curled up and further into Paris in his arms with the sheet draped across her. Hopefully the heightened moon wouldn’t make things any worse for her. Hopefully.

  Unbeknownst to Booker, those few people that were around, were Breukelen werewolves, out for a night on the town in Manhattan. Defying pack law because they felt it was their right too. They all drunkenly stumbled about the street, they paused to take in the scene of the two big guys holding, a body in their arms and talking on a telephone in front of an alleyway.

  “Isn’t that Booker?” One of them asked as Booker walked away from Paris, pacing around with the telephone to his ear.

  “As in Breukelen’s own guard dog to the alpha?” one of the young males asked.

  “What’s he doing with that other guy and what is…” He trailed off as their night vision adjusted as the girl’s head lolled back to the left, giving them a view of her face.

  “Bg?” the other one finished for his friend.

  “Where’s Conall? Why aren’t they together? They’re always together during lunar week.”

  “Do you suppose those guys did something to Conall?” All three males looked at each other and back at the scene playing out from them across the lightened part of the street.

  “What are they doing to her?” He asked as Booker appeared to finish his phone call and pocket the phone, walking back to Paris, speaking to him.

  “Kidnapping her?”

  “Why is she draped in that thing?”

  “Sacrifice?” All three males looked at each other again and nodded their heads. “Let’s find out.” All three Breukelen werewolves lifted their heads and sniffed the air. “Alpha’s.”

  “I don’t care about no stinking alpha, I can hold my own in a fight.” Said one of them. “Hey!” He called out to Paris and Booker as the three young males stepped off the curb and started walking across the street towards them. “Hey what do you think you’re doing with her man?” He yelled loudly.

  Booker looked over at the three advancing males. “Shit.”

  “What?” Paris asked looking at the werewolves.

  “Breukelen’s own version of we light to party, we like to fight and will fight to party.” Booker replied in a low voice back at Paris as he stepped forward.

  “Keep ‘em off us and under control man, they’re you’re crowd. Addison will be here any second now with the car. They shouldn’t be over this side of the river on a lunar week man, they’re out of their territory.”

  “Yeah.” Booker agreed. “And they know it.”

  “Booker man is that you?” One of the three werewolves called out to him.

  “We’ve got everything under control here.” Booker said raising his hands as he spoke, just as the revving engine of a red Porsche squealed to an abrupt stop in front of Paris.

  “Booker!” Paris called out as he slid into the passenger side of the Porsche with Bg still in his arms and slammed the door closed.

  Booker waited as the second squeal of tires followed and his El Comino drove up and Kingsley of the Manhattan Maen pack slid across into the passenger seat of his car as Booker moved into the driver side seat, slamming the door.

  Dropping the car into gear, he pulled out wide and the three Breuekelen werewolves jumped back out of the way, yelling at him as he pulled out in front of the Porsche and drove off with the Porsche in close toe. Leaving the three werewolves yelling at them that they couldn’t take a Breukelen for a sacrifice and expect to get away with it.

  “Did you see that man?”

  “Yeah, something shady is going down.”

  “Against the Breukelen. No way we can let that happen, not when one of our, own has turned against us.”

  “It’s up to us to stop it man.”

  “Altijd.” They all said in unison.

  They watched the two cars speed off down the street and looked around themselves quickly, flagging down a yellow cab. “Follow that Porsche and el Camino.”

  “Yeah man it’s a matter of life and death.”

  “Of honor.”

  The cabbie looked in his rear vision in the mirror at the young guys in the back of his cab. He knew better than to ask them what they meant by that. Or to start a conversation with any of them. Hell it was on the tip of his tongue to ask them if they had enough fare to pay their way. But something told him it would not be at all wise to do such a thing. The two in the backseat were perspiring and talking quickly and giggling. Possibly they were junkies between fixes. Or they just might be high as a kite and drunken lads for a fun night out.

  “What was that about?” Kingsely asked Booker as they drove off hurriedly.

  “What those guys?” Booker asked glancing back in his rearview mirror.

  “Looked like they were about to start something to me.” The dark skinned Manhattan Maen werewolf said glancing across at his Breukelen counterpart. “They from your pack? Or just drunken idiots who know no better than to interfere in business that isn’t their own?”

  Booker frowned and glanced across at Kingsley. “Bit of both.” Booker replied driving on and watching the road.

  10

  The hysteria of the night that was unfolding around them and somehow all connected to the central players in the unseen drama that was inter-pack relationships in New York. Not one of them could have foreseen that lines of alliance, friendship and love would become so deeply complicated and entwined in the events that were to unfold.

  If they had, then perhaps Booker, Paris, Addison and Kingsley might have been able to foresee what they were literally driving into as they headed back into Breukelen’s territory of Brooklyn.

  The ambush happened as they crossed over the Manhattan bridge. Reaching the City Industrial Park area, Booker braked hard, pulling the El Comino to a sideways stop, so as to avoid crashing head on into the two pick-up trucks that shot out across the road, effectively blocking the road from him as they stopped in a staggered patter in front of him.

  The hair on the back of Booker’s neck stood up. He knew he was not dealing with drunken idiots.

  The Porsche broke quickly also, behind him, as a four wheel drive and minivan closed in behind them, blocki
ng any back way, to get-away. Two more cars pulled up alongside either side of the Porsche and El-Comino. Booker looked at each car and positioning. It wasn’t hard to see it was a trap. There was a moment of pause. With everybody staying put.

  “Don’t go out tonight, cause there’s a bad moon on the rise.” Kingsley sang softly looking under the front windscreen of the El Comino, trying to see the drivers of the attacking vehicles.

  “What we call a Black Dog Moon.” Booker muttered as he reached into his pocket and pulled out Paris’s phone and pressed Addison’s number.

  “What the hell kind of greeting party is this?” Addison hissed down the line at him before he could get a word in. “Are you Breukelen so fucking turf war twitchy? Or is this just a regular night out in Brooklyn these days?” Both Booker and Addison knew it was highly unlikely that they’re unexpected ambushers were just some odd ball Non’s out for a bit of rebel rousing fun. It wasn’t exactly open policy to promote the werewolf packs in New York.

  “You high society loups-garou’s really need to get out more if you think this is how we have fun over this side of the Hudson.” Booker muttered down the phone line.

  Werewolves were territorial in every sense of the word. They didn’t do subtle, they didn’t do sneaky, they attacked you head on. It was the werewolf way of fighting. It was a display in dominance, in superiority and if you gave in to the intimidation, before anything physical happened. Then you were the weakest link on the food chain and nothing much would help you change that.

  “Shut up and listen, I think I know what might have caused this.” Booker replied speaking quietly into the phone.

  “Bad karma?” Addison joked at him sarcastically.

  “I think we can talk our way out of this if we…wait..” Booker paused as the first movement of those surrounding them occurred. Car doors opened around them and people emerged. The participants in the cars, slowly started to appear for the intended show down. There were quite a few of them, more than the Porsche and El Comino combined had in their favour.

  But the attackers, lacked at least two things, that Booker could see as an advantage on their side. They didn’t have any alpha werewolves there.

  Booker growled and Kingsley looked over at him. “Breukelen.” Booker muttered back at his passenger. Booker kept watching the participants pile out of the cars.

  Breukelen werewolves. Angry Breukelen werewolves with baseball bats, knives and Booker looked around at their weaponry. Even a damn Samurai sword. They were either bold or incredibly stupidly dense, to set up a fight on a lunar week night. Booker couldn’t decide between the two.

  “Looks like we’re in for a rumble in the concrete jungle man.” Kingsley stated surveying the odds for them. “I count ten.”

  “I got twelve and there’s no alpha amongst them.”

  “So they got no leader? So we can’t do the old, cut of the head of the snake trick and watch the body die?”

  “Addison get ready.” Booker said into the phone quickly.

  “For what?”

  “Anything! For the fight! Kingsley and I will run interference,”

  “Damn straight.” Kingsley muttered unclipping his seat belt.

  “You get Bg back to the Sommers family home. There’s a spare key under the back door welcome mat. Lock yourselves in there and then go to the kitchen and there is a key pad on the wall, punch in 5482. Are you listening?” Booker spoke rapidly, as his pulse picked up.

  “5482, got it.” Addison replied back at him.

  “It will close the wrought iron gates to the Sommers property. Nobody gets in or out, unless it’s Bodil Sommers or the leading alpha of the Breukelen. Do you copy?” He said his voice raising as he watched the slow movement of their intended assailants pause. ”Nobody, not even us! We’ll give you a big a head start as we can. But we’re grossly outnumbered.”

  “Come out Booker!” A familiar voice yelled at his car. Booker frowned hanging up the phone. The three males in front of the El Comino parted to reveal the figure behind the voice.

  “Wakely.” Booker growled under his breath.

  Conall Wakely, was drenched in sweat, his abdominal muscles glistening under the streetlights. He walked in jeans, which indicated to Booker he was prepared to shape shift by ruining only minimal clothing, plus he was barefoot. Either he was rather worked up for the rumble, or he was really feeling the effects of the lunar cycle on only the first night of the week. Which would hopefully give Booker and his party, a distinct advantage. Booker hoped Conall really had thought that much through on what he was about to do.

  Not because Booker couldn’t take the younger Breukelen werewolf. He could. Booker’s body mass alone, ensured he had more power than Conall. Add to that his alpha abilities and he was very assured in his fighting prowess.

  Booker was just concerned for Bg. She was the one on a time frame here. She was the one that this was affecting the most. This fight was about her as much as it was for her. “This could be over a lot faster than we think.” Booker said to Kingsley in a low voice.

  “How do you figure?” The other werewolf asked.

  “Because the Breukelen have five alpha’s in our entire pack, I’m one of them, the leading alpha is in hospital on life support and the other three aren’t here. Which means, They’re all beta wolves and the moon is almost at its highest place. Hopefully most or all of them will have to shape shift soon. We’ve got a window of vulnerability to work with, it’ll be quick though, this many in a group all sharing the same emotion, the shift will be quick and they’ll come to, angry and hell bent on tearing us apart limb from limb.”

  “Noted.” Kingsley replied, watching the restless of the other participants holding back, waiting for their command to attack. They were all males, their attackers.

  Booker had to wait too. He needed Conall to make the first move. First of all, so he was proven to be seen in the wrong and second of all, a pure strategic reason. He needed to see what he was going to do. Whether this was a street fight or something more devious than that.

  Conall was smaller than Booker, but he worked out hard and it showed. Booker knew Conall Wakely, not only enjoyed a good fight every now and then, that he had done a small stint in lightweight boxing. The boy knew how to fight and pack a punch. But even with that knowledge, Booker’s eyes still dropped to the wooden baseball bat in Conall’s hand. If Conall had been supremely confident in his fighting abilities or that he could take Booker on, one on one, he’d never have picked up the baseball bat. Conall was a werewolf with pride. Big pride.

  “Come out, come out wherever you are!” Conall sang walking ever forward. “It’s not like I don’t recognise your car man!” He said raising the baseball bat in both hands and bringing it down on the front hood, hard. The car’s bonnet vibrated under the blow and buckled where it had been hit. Leaving a sizeable, impact dent.

  Booker’s jaw cracked loudly in the quiet car and he bared his werewolf fangs in annoyance. Conall started to circle round to the side of the car, towards the driver side.

  “Come on man, you’re making it far too easy for me. It’s gonna be like shooting fish in a barrel. But you know what? I enjoy that.” Conall said swinging the baseball bat again and shattering the drive side window completely. Booker sheltered from the glass and looked back through the now open frame at Conall Wakely.

  “Opps, did I miss your big head?” Conall taunted Booker with as he looked through the clear window frame at him.

  The look Booker threw him was one of focussed anger at the pup. Anyone else would have cowered down from Booker. But not Conall. He was ready and he wanted to fight and he would never back down when challenged, Booker knew that about him. Booker unlocked the door and opened it, Kingsley opened his door at the same time, emerging from the opposite side. Staring down his opponents.

  “You do not want to get into this with me.” Booker growled at Conall knowing very well that he did.

  Conall broke into a big grin looking up to him. “Oh I
really do.” Conall replied defiantly back at him.

  Against Booker’s better judgement, he decided he should try and talk them down from their attack. “You know if you start this, in the open like this you’re breaking Breukelen pack policy. What if a bunch of nons come along? Or they call the cops? Then what?”

  Conall shrugged his shoulders loosely. “Don’t care.”

  “Then how are you going to explain a group of werewolves tearing each other apart on the street?”

  “I don’t explain myself to anyone. Least of all some human cops.” They both knew it was official Breukelen policy to make trouble that would attract the nons as they called them, to the existence of the Breukelen living amongst the residents of Brooklyn.

  “You know the rules, we don’t cause trouble in the open where the non’s exist with us. We handle this other ways.” Booker kept on.

  “No. We handle this now. I hope you brought you’re A-game with you. Cause I’d hate for you to take it easy on me.” Booker nodded his head, realising Conall was not interested in any sort of peaceful resolution to whatever the problem he perceived there to be. “I’m going to maim you for what you did to her.” Booker replied in a low menacing tone of voice, advancing towards Conall without hesitation. “And be thanked by her family for it.” He added.

  A brief look of shock flashed over Conall’s face. But he re-composed himself as a small muscle under Conall’s eye twitched and he threw back his head suddenly, let out a loud howl, which signalled the start of the battle royal of pack against pack.

  Booker was ready, he wasn’t about to play fair or take it easy on the younger werewolf. He embraced his anger and caught the baseball bat off Conall quickly and swung it up and around into the younger wolf’s abdomen, sending him backwards before using it on those that dared to advance on him. He had no intention of being even slightly, honourable.

  A fight was a fight, blood, fists and all. They both knew it. Booker didn’t care if he hit heads off bodies, just as long as they went down. The third body the old wooden baseball bat hit, broke it in two and Booker dropped it, using instead his own hands to throw punches, as he raised his legs and kicked into the bodies around him. Making them fall down and fly sideways into the vehicles behind them.