Hybrid (Book 2): Hunted

by Stead, Nick

  His eyes were on me once again, filled with a hatred to rival that of the enemies I’d faced – even the loathing I’d encountered in Vince and Aughtie. Several of the other vampires turned to glare at me as well. I was about to say something in my defence but Lady Sarah shot me a warning look. Finally the Elder vampire let his eyes wander over the rest of the gathering as he brought the meeting to a close, the others turning back round to face him.

  “That is all for tonight. I will send word if there is a need to discuss these matters any further.”

  There was an air of distrust as the various undead left the old warehouse, mostly from the vampires whose eyes were invariably on me as they stalked out. Try as I might to look more like my old human self, the attempt to hide the true essence of my bestial nature wasn’t fooling anyone, especially when my skin was still splattered with dried blood. They knew who and what I was and it seemed they’d all seen enough centuries to remain prejudiced towards my kind. I was suddenly glad Lady Sarah was still with me, in spite of the trouble I’d given her whilst my rage had controlled me. I might have had more than just suspicious looks to contend with if I’d been alone.

  Lady Sarah seemed to feel I was at risk even with her protection, for I could sense she was anxious to return to the isolation of the moors. But she didn’t want to turn her back on the crowd, which forced us to wait for the ghouls to slink off and the vampires to stalk out. Once the last few undead began to trickle out, she deemed it safe to fall in behind them but, before we could take our leave, the dark haired Elder strode over to us.

  “Lady Sarah, a word please,” he said.

  She hid her irritation, and was that a brief sense of unease I’d detected in her as well? If she was uneasy that put me on edge, wondering if Ulfarr would execute me just on the chance that I might be the killer, even though he had no evidence.

  He spoke to her as if I wasn’t there, or as if I was merely an animal, too simple to understand the troubles of its masters. “We both know the most likely identity of the killer. If I find it to be your pet wolf I will kill him, regardless of whether he is truly the last or not.”

  “I am stood right here you know,” I growled. The emptiness still wouldn’t allow for anger, but if I acted like he’d angered me then maybe my rage would return.

  “You dare talk to me like that,” he hissed. “I’ll have your throat right now and we shall revel in the extinction of your species, vermin!”

  Lady Sarah quickly positioned herself between us before I could say anything else. “You say the murders happened during the full moon; I have been by his side keeping him in check, ensuring he would not unwittingly deliver himself to the Slayers, nor create a fresh trail for them to follow.”

  “So you can account for everything he did after he lost his control to the call of the moon?” the Elder asked disbelievingly.

  “I give you my word he is not the killer.”

  “If I find out you are lying to me, I will have your head as well, Lady Sarah,” he said. At me he spat “Get out of my sight, beast.”

  I wanted to react angrily again. Maybe another fight was what I needed to finally awaken my rage from the depths of that gaping chasm in my soul. Lady Sarah knew me too well by this point, however, and pulled me away, keeping a firm grip on my arm to force me to walk with her. Once outside I shook her off and ripped away the stolen clothes, glad to be free of the uncomfortable material, before transforming back to wolf form. I let her lead me back to the moors we’d made our current territory, mulling over this latest turn of events as we ran.

  “What was the point in taking me there just to be accused and have my life threatened?” I growled in human form again, still looking for a fight even though the emotions still wouldn’t come. “If it was so dangerous to be around a bunch of vampires that clearly don’t need much reason to kill werewolves, why go there in the first place?”

  “Did you kill him, Nick?” she asked, ignoring my question.

  “What? No! Of course I didn’t; why would I kill a vampire?”

  “You were out of control for those first two months after the battle, and again this full moon. We cannot be sure where you went or what you might have done. Let the wolf answer me: did you kill the vampire?”

  Reluctantly I called out mentally to the wolfish half of my consciousness, but in those full moon nights spent completely lost in the bloodlust it had been as much a blackout period for him as it was for me.

  “He doesn’t know. That need to kill we were feeling was like a drug or booze or something; it just took over and everything went hazy till it wore off again.”

  “I feared as much. It is possible a werewolf might turn on another undead in such a state and even succeed in killing some of us, especially if you caught your victim unawares. In a crazed state you would be a formidable opponent for even the more powerful of vampires like myself.”

  “Great. So for the older vampires who are still prejudiced there’s no doubt in their minds I am guilty, simply because of what I am, and now even you aren’t sure of my innocence. Looks like I’m screwed then.”

  “I do not want to believe you are the killer but we know of no other surviving werewolves, and I must admit this does look like a werewolf attack. If they find it was you who killed one of our own I can’t protect you,” she said sadly.

  I wanted to argue further but there was no real anger as I’d hoped, no matter how angry I tried to act. Even accused of murder I was sure I hadn’t committed, those fires of fury that had burned so strongly a couple of months ago still wouldn’t rekindle. Defeated, I turned away from her to stare out over the barren landscape, or what little of it I could see in the darkness.

  And how could I be sure it wasn’t me? Without a way to fill the gaps in my memory, I could no more answer where I’d run off to or what I’d done than Lady Sarah could. I knew I’d killed and I had some vague memories of people screaming and blood running freely, their flesh tearing in my jaws. But there was nothing in those few brief snatches of memory to suggest any of them had been vampires. And even if the two vampires had been among my victims, could I be held guilty for crimes committed when I wasn’t in control of my actions? The vampires had already demonstrated they didn’t need any real reason to kill me so I supposed that wouldn’t matter to them. I was no more than a savage beast as far as they were concerned. They viewed me the same way mankind viewed large predators – as ferocious brutes. Which brought me back to my original question.

  “Why take me to that meeting if there was a risk they’d kill me without waiting for any evidence?”

  “They demanded our presence there,” she answered. “Had we not have attended as requested, it would have given them more cause to distrust us.”

  “To distrust me, you mean. You could always leave me to my fate; there’s no reason for you to die as well if they’re intent on blaming me for this.”

  Lady Sarah shook her head. “I will not abandon you now. If you did kill the two vampires I can at least try to prevent the loss of more lives, though honestly I would highly doubt you would make a habit of killing undead, let alone develop a liking for vampire flesh. The curse causes you to crave humans, or other mortal animals as necessary. You hunger for living prey, and even a vampire who recently fed would be a poor substitute for the true warmth of live flesh. We are, after all, the living dead. Not to mention the risk to you of attacking creatures stronger than yourself, something that goes against every predator’s instincts. It is unlikely you would continue to be successful, even in the grip of so powerful a bloodlust. No matter what Ulfarr may think, if you were the killer I believe these to be isolated incidents, and something you are not likely to repeat in the months to come, even if you do manage to run off on your own again. For now we will continue to keep a low profile and hope they find evidence to incriminate another undead.”

  I fell quiet again, thinking over what she’d just said. Despite the reasons she’d given, I didn’t feel entirely sure why she was helpi
ng me as I still knew so little about her. But I needed an ally more than ever, so I had to trust she knew what she was doing. There was something else that was bothering me though.

  “I know you said vampires and werewolves are never going to be best mates given our long and bloody history, but why does this Elder vampire hate us so much? I was sensing the same level of hatred from him as the Slayers have for us, and it felt like more than just prejudice or a grudge dating back to the war our races waged against each other. Why was he looking at me with so much loathing?”

  “Ah, there is still much you do not understand, young wolf,” she said with a sigh. “Very well. You wanted a story of ages long past? I will tell you the saga of Ulfarr, our living legend. But you may not like what you hear.

  “In a time when mankind was still evolving, when men were still very much a part of the natural world, this legend was born. As a child he was no different to the other boys of his tribe, but he would grow to be a champion of his people, a great hunter and mighty warrior, renowned for his prowess in battle against men and beast alike.

  “As a man, it is said he was every bit as fierce as the great predators of the land. He made his first kill when he was no more than seven years of age, and he would fearlessly drive off dire wolves and wrestle bears with his bare hands. But no mortal is invincible and no matter how great the man he once was, his downfall was inevitable. Whether to the ravages of time or to the claws of a beast, even this mighty champion would someday meet his end.

  “And that end came on the fateful hunt for Dread-Tooth, greatest of the mighty sabre-toothed cats of their time. Dread-Tooth was a fearsome predator, biggest of all his brethren with eyes that shone like fire in the night, fangs thicker than a man’s arm and like great daggers, and claws sharper than any crafted knife or spear. Many fell to those cruel teeth and claws, Dread-Tooth developing a taste for human flesh and returning to the tribe night after night to prey on the people. He bore the scars from previous encounters with man, yet no matter how many spears found their mark, it seemed nothing could stop him. The wounds healed and the beast returned, as powerful as ever.

  “Long was Dread-Tooth’s reign of terror. Fear for him grew amongst the tribesmen, until only one dared stand against him. Their champion stood alone, as strong and impressive a figure as Dread-Tooth himself, and driven by that dark human need for revenge. For among the victims were none other than his wife and son. And when the beast charged, he didn’t even flinch.

  “Dread-Tooth pounced but this champion of men moved with greater speed than the beast had encountered before, and his fangs snapped shut around nothing but air. A terrible pain stabbed through his flank, another spear biting into his flesh. It was enough to drive the beast off, and he limped away to lick his wounds and regain his strength.

  “The champion saw his chance for vengeance and also to rid his people of this threat, and he set out to hunt down Dread-Tooth and finish what he’d started. But even wounded the beast remained a formidable opponent, and the sun had already risen before this great hunter finally tracked down his quarry. The beast sensed him coming and there was another struggle, Dread-Tooth more wary of the man now – he would not be so easily defeated a second time.

  “Six times the champion jabbed at his foe, opening up six more wounds, but they only angered the beast. With the seventh the spear finally found its mark in the beast’s heart, those two fiery eyes glazing over, his jaws slackening, his fearsome fangs no longer a threat. But this victory came at a terrible price. Mortally wounded, the man stumbled away with four deep gashes across his abdomen. He struggled on in an effort to make it back to his tribe until he could go no further, collapsing from loss of blood. And there he lay, his strength slowly fading, yet still he continued to fight for life long after night fell.

  “But even in such primitive times, all those millennia ago, there were far worse than mortal beasts stalking the night. It was of course a vampire who would claim this man’s human life, drawn by the scent of his blood. And weakened though he was, when the female vampire began to drain what little of that crimson life force he had left, still this champion of men attempted to fight. It is said the vampire was so impressed by this show of bravery and strength that she could not bring herself to end his life, so instead she passed on the gift of vampirism, and so a mortal legend passed into immortality.

  “Unable to return to his tribe, their champion became their worst nightmare. For thousands of years he stalked the long hours of darkness, the greatest of predators. But the world began to change as mankind evolved and shaped the land around them, and even in those days long before the Demon Slayers formed, the undead were forced to be more careful. We vampires will always be vulnerable during the day, and man’s reach was extending ever outwards, invading the old haunts of our race.

  “With the rise of Lyacon and his dread pack, the balance of power shifted and for the first time since the dawn of civilisation, men were again no more than prey for the beasts that stalked them. Many of the younger vampires still bore the human desire for conquest, and for the first time in our history we were no longer solitary hunters of the night, but instead we began to ally together as a race so we might wrest the land from Lycaon and his wolves and claim it as our own. Yet every faction needs a leader, and too many of those with a thirst for power wanted the position for themselves.

  “And so the idea of the Elders was born. Only the eldest of our race had the power to unite us in the fight against the werewolves, and we turned to them for leadership. But most of the older vampires had no interest in waging war on the wolves, content to keep to the shadows as they had always done. They were of another time, before the need to dominate corrupted the heart of mankind. Though there was one who would fight.

  “Once a champion of men, he would now become a champion of vampires and the first to be given the title of Elder. And this first Elder vampire was every bit as ruthless and ferocious in battle against the werewolves as he had been against mortal beasts as a man. Lycaon met his downfall when his pack turned on each other, but for each new werewolf seeking to follow in Lycaon’s footsteps, the Elder would be there to crush them before they could rise to power. He had retained his feral nature from the life he’d lived as a human and he fought with a savagery the younger vampires lacked. If he had a name as a man it has long since been lost in time, but he soon earned the title of Wolf’s Bane.

  “Even after the Age of Men was restored and we returned to our solitary ways, still he would hunt down werewolves with a single minded ferocity and it became his custom to wear the pelts of his enemies. Even men came to respect the might of this monstrous warrior, but it wasn’t until early in the Viking era when he was given the name Ulfarr, or Wolf Warrior. Originally it was meant as Wolf Slayer or Wolf Killer, until the meaning changed over time, but it suited him and he has kept that name to this day.

  “Over the centuries the rise of the Slayers forced our races to become allies, weakened as our forces were from fighting amongst ourselves. Yet Ulfarr could never bring himself to trust creatures born of the same bestial nature that had claimed the lives of his wife and son. Our greatest leader withdrew into the shadows, unwilling to deal with wolves, let alone fight alongside them. But if ever a werewolf turned on us or was deemed too troublesome, it was to Ulfarr we would look to hunt them down. And it shames me to say the extinction of your race is as much my kind’s doing as the Slayers’.

  “So now you know why I wished to keep you away from all this. Ulfarr will not hesitate to kill you, given even the slightest of reasons. You need to tread carefully from now on.”

  I listened to the saga with mixed feelings. The love of stories I’d had as a human kept me entranced, though I couldn’t help but snarl through the second half of the tale. I could respect Ulfarr’s deeds as a human when he’d killed the big carnivores to protect his people, but the way he’d butchered countless werewolves over the centuries seemed too much like the mindless slaughter humans indulged in, despi
te his insistence we were better than them when he’d spoken during the meeting. And killing animals needlessly for sport or out of fear and hatred was something I’d always loathed as much as my wolfish half, giving rise to my own hatred and creating an instant dislike for this Elder vampire. Though was I really any better than any of them when I’d also taken to killing in cold blood?

  Lady Sarah seemed to sense the impact the story had made on me, and the questions it created, just as her tale of Lycaon had done on the morning after my first transformation. She waited patiently, until finally I asked “How much of that is actually true?”

  “The details may have grown with the telling over so many thousands of years, but the story itself is true. Ulfarr has walked this earth longer than any other surviving undead, and though he has picked up some elements of civilisation over the years – most notably language – he still retains aspects of that primal nature of his humanity.”

  “If he’s pretty animalistic himself, how can he hate werewolves for their bestial nature so much? It wasn’t even a wolf that took his family from him!”

  “Hatred is never rational. Some say he witnessed a werewolf killing a woman and child just as Dread-Tooth had done and it opened up that old wound, reminding him of the night he lost his family. Hatred became rage and rage became bloodlust, driving him to kill.”

  “So why doesn’t he just kill me, if his hate’s already convinced him I’m guilty? Why bother calling the meeting tonight?”

  “The alliance between undead has always been tenuous at the best of times. Ghouls are also solitary for the most part, and it goes against our natures to band together. If Ulfarr kills you without any reason, it could cause more fighting amongst ourselves which can only lead to extinction for us all. And we also look to our Elders for justice as well as leadership. Just as humanity have their laws and customs to maintain peace, there is a need for it in our society also. It’s rare for one of our kind to turn on our own but it has happened, as we both saw with Vince.