Hair, Greg - Werewolf 02

by Ascension (v5. 0)

  “You were going to let the one pass away just to increase the worth of the other that you have?”

  “You should not have come,” he said coldly.

  He took her silence as an admission that he was right. He sensed her fear, and it felt good.

 

  Chapter 8

  “Neither one of you have spoken to the other since Landon opened the door,” said Allen, as all three approached Central Park. “The whole flight up here, all you two did was stare out the windows. Don’t you guys think maybe it’s time to talk?”

  “Let her start,” said Landon. “She’s the one that showed up at my door.”

  “He’s the one that told me to stay at Burghausen,” LillyAnna said.

  “She doesn’t know how difficult that was for me. I wanted her to come, but I felt that she needed to stay there for training, and I thought I would be okay, until things got settled, then I would send for her.”

  “He didn’t tell me any of that. He never called, never wrote. I don’t even know if he ever thought about me.”

  “Guys,” said Allen, “are we close? Maybe we should—“

  “Oh I thought about you, all the time,” Landon interrupted, stopping near the subway entrance and, finally turning toward her. “I knew you were okay, because I asked Ryker about you constantly. I always wanted to speak to you, hear your voice, but, in the beginning, I knew you were upset with me for leaving. Each day I tried to pick up the phone, but talked myself out of it. Ryker eventually told me that you had started becoming more active, smiling more, and going out with him and Annelise, so I naturally thought you had moved on.”

  “Oh, so you wanted me to just sit there, waiting for you to call, depressed all the time. That was the only thing that would tell you that I was still thinking of you? I know you try to do the right things, for yourself and other people, but you need to let everyone else decide what’s right for them. That’s not your place.

  “Yes, I was hurt in the beginning, still am, but I knew you weren’t going anywhere. You should have known the same about me. I wanted to call, but you’re the one that left. You’re the one that needed the time. You should have called and asked how I was, instead of having Ryker give you reports. Like I didn’t know he was doing it.

  “Plus, I know you’ve been drinking all this time. I didn’t need to see you have five glasses of whiskey on the way here to know that. Your new place reeks of the stuff.

  Whether it does damage to your body or not, you have a drinking problem. You think that’s a good environment for the kids? You know, when we first met, you talked like being a werewolf was a gift, but you’ve never acted like it is. I don’t think you truly believe what you preach.”

  LillyAnna walked ahead, down the stairs to the subway platform, motioning behind her for the others to follow. Landon reached out his hand, to grab her shoulder, when Allen grabbed his arm, shaking his head.

  “Let her be, son.”

  “I already did that, and look where it got me.”

  “That was different. You left her. This time, she wants you to let her be, but she doesn’t want you to leave. You’re both right here. It’s okay. She’ll come around. I’m curious, though, does she always call you out like that?”

  “Yeah. It’s annoying.”

  “She’s a keeper.”

  The three waited for the train to pass, then followed the line to the broken door.

  “What the hell?” said Landon. He looked behind the leaning door, and sighed.

  “From the inside.”

  “It’s been years since I crossed paths with Nicholas,” said Allen. “Can either one of you pick up his scent? Or the kids?”

  Landon knew immediately. “They were here. I know that. Not sure if they still are.” He walked up the few steps and began to enter.

  “Wait Landon, we’re coming, too,” said LillyAnna.

  “You two stay here. I can handle him, I did before. If I need you, I’ll call,” Landon said, continuing into the tunnel.

  “You’re doing it again,” she yelled. “Stop trying to do things by yourself.”

  “Don’t underestimate Nicholas,” Allen said. “You killed him once before, and he came back. She’s right, we’re coming with you.”

  LillyAnna and Allen started up the steps when both stopped suddenly. Landon turned slowly, looking back at them as they stood just outside the doorway. A charge ran through their bodies.

  “Landon,” whispered LillyAnna.

  Suddenly, the door from the side room that hid just inside the complex’s entrance was jettisoned from its place as the vampire that lay in wait inside, burst forth, resealing the entrance way, leaving LillyAnna and Allen out by the subway tracks.

  The lean, dark attacker spun around, launching into Landon who’d been caught off guard by the sudden appearance of a vampire in the tomb of a werewolf. The vampire’s attack was swift and ferocious, affording Landon little opportunity to gain his wits in order to transform.

  Down the tunnel they tumbled, Landon landing a punch or kick, here and there, the vampire repeatedly sinking his teeth into Landon’s skin, though not to drink. It’s common knowledge among those vampires that have sampled werewolf blood, that it tastes dirty. Those that have actually drank from a werewolf have noted that it tastes unnatural—the blood of man and beast mixing. Some believe it’s as unnatural as bestiality. This vampire had no intention in drinking Landon’s blood, only to wound.

  Finally, reaching the large chamber, the vampire tossed Landon over the countless bodies, narrowly missing the pike standing at the center.

  As Landon rose from within the pile of carcasses, the door to the little room at the back of the chamber opened, and out flew the body of Jerry McClursky, the serial killer, landing on the pole. Landon turned back toward the small room to see another vampire emerge.

  Sandwiched between two vampires, Landon arbitrarily chose one, that which was nearest the exit, and attacked. Running on all fours toward the vampire at the far end, he jammed his front claws into two bodies, spun 360 degrees, and flung the cadavers at the vampire.

  The menace knocked them to the side, like they were volleyballs, as Landon rocketed into the vamp’s midsection, knocking him into the corridor. Landon, sensing the close presence of the other vampire, spun around as the enemy grabbed the werewolf.

  The vamp, having hold of Landon’s throat, turned to face the opposite direction and threw the werewolf over his head. Landon landed on his back near the small office.

  He began to search his environment for an advantage. The pipe, he thought. But, before he could give any more thought to his plan, the nearest vampire held out his hand and, using telekinesis, ejected Jerry’s body up and away from the pike. Suddenly, the pole lifted, untouched, into the air and shot toward the werewolf like a javelin.

  Landon leaped forward to fly over the weapon and, in flight, caught the pole, then somersaulted to land on his feet, thrusting the pike into the vampire. The enemy stood impaled and shocked.

  Landon, as if throwing a stone toward the heavens, thrust the javelin, vampire attached, straight up into the ceiling. The other vamp, seeing his brother in such an awkward position, attacked. The great red werewolf, using the vampire’s own energy and force against him, flung him upwards so that he, too, became impaled.

  Landon stared at the two vampires hanging from the ceiling. Their blood mixed as one stream merged with the other, gravity pulling both streams down the pipe. Several drops fell into Landon’s mouth.

  The blood of vampires, as determined by those werewolves who have tasted it, is much different than that of the beasts. Vampire blood is closer to that of mortal humans, since it is from the latter that the former finds their source of food. Due to the different blood types found in human beings and, hence flowing through the veins of vampires, werewolves describe the taste as being as close to a fusion dish as the supernatural world allows.

  As LillyAnna and Allen made their way into the cathedral chamber, t
he bodies hanging from the top suddenly slid off the pipe, falling to the floor. Surprisingly, one still lived, though he was quickly dying.

  Landon, now transformed, walked over and bent down to fading vamp.

  “Where are they?” he asked.

  “You’re supposed to be the best at tracking—you find them. But, even if you do, it won’t help you—you won’t win.” Then, the vampire, Landon’s best lead, died.

  The werewolf, in his anger and without extending a claw, decapitated the dead vampire. He stood and walked past LillyAnna and Allen, continuing out to the subway tracks and back up to the surface. The other two followed.

  “What next?” asked LillyAnna.

  “You heard him,” said Landon. “I track.”

  “They’ve been gone for a while, son. You’d have to change to pick up anything, and even then, maybe.”

  Landon paused, not turning around. “I’ve already picked up their scent. They went south out of the park.”

  “This will take days,” said Allen.

  “Then we’ll have to move quickly, won’t we?” Reaching the limits of the park, Landon crossed the street, continuing south, in the opposite direction of the rental car, his girlfriend and dad in tow. He intended to track completely on foot.

  Landon suddenly stopped in his tracks when his phone rang. He was on less than thirty seconds when he hung up. Without speaking, he turned around and headed back toward the car.

  “Well?” asked LillyAnna. “Who was it?”

  “Ryker.” Landon said nothing more. He heard his dad breathing heavy, struggling to keep up, but his anger at the vampire that wouldn’t talk kept him from slowing down.

  “Son, what did he say? Where are we going?”

  “We’re going to the car, then we’re going back to the airport. They’re in Savannah.”

  “Savannah? What the hell’s in Savannah?”

  “A trap, I’m sure,” said Allen. “Landon, I think we need to put a call in for some help. I’m not sure the three of us can handle this by ourselves. He obviously has vampires working for him. Who knows what he’s got waiting for us in Georgia.” Finally, Landon stopped, turned, and faced his followers. “We’re not calling for help. I beat him before, I can do it again.”

  “Did you, son? Did you beat him? Because it looks to me like he’s still walking the earth, causing a whole hell of a lot of trouble. We don’t really know who, or what, we’re dealing with here.”

  “I don’t care,” Landon said, turning again and crossing the street. “In the end, the bastard is mine.”

  Suddenly, Allen stopped. Putting his fist to his mouth, he coughed a little, then coughed a lot. He bent over as Landon ran back to him, and LillyAnna put her arm around him. Pulling his hand away, he opened it up to see a spattering of blood on his palm.

  “You need to slow down,” LillyAnna said.

  “I can’t,’ said Allen, wheezing, still bent over, propping himself up on a light post. “We need to find the children…as quickly as possible.”

  “I wasn’t talking to you.”

  Landon looked at her, than at his father. “I’m sorry,” he said. “We’re almost to the car. I’ll try to slow down a bit.”

  “No, son, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come. I’m slowing you down.”

  “No, I’m glad you’re here. You’re right, I do need help. I need you and LillyAnna. You two, and my kids, are my family. We’re gonna get them back—

  together.”

  Landon threw his arm around his dad and joined LillyAnna in helping Allen walk to the car.

  Chapter 9

  Nicholas led Jamie through the golden emerald field behind the house as the teen looked back over his shoulder at Gabriel and Serinda standing on the front porch, watching him.

  “Why did you tell them to come here?” he asked.

  “Everything that I do is a calculated move on an intangible chess board,” replied Nicholas. “They are pawns, a resource, and when they are used up, they will be discarded, as will all vampires. I know I told you that you are to lead our kind to a brighter future, but, Jamie, even the president isn’t told everything that his government does. He doesn’t need to know. I will lie to them and anyone else, just as you will, to achieve our ends.

  “And do not ever let morality deter you from using lying, or anything else, to achieve your goals. Morality is nothing more than a form of manipulation created by the Church to keep its flock pent up. Lying, on the other hand, is a technique used to either acquire what one desires or needs, or to redirect unwanted attention. It is an art in which success is determined by its effectiveness and ability not to be caught, and the morality of lying is determined by the intentions of the liar. Whether to lie or not all depends on the benefits versus the consequences.

  “If lying were so evil, politicians would not be elected to lead as they are. In fact, all leaders, the big and the small, understand that lying is inevitable. And that is a great segue into our teaching for today.”

  “Okay. I’m following. So why am I out here in a field?” He knew they were heading toward the Savannah River by the sound of slow-moving water. He also made out the chattering of various animals—squirrels, birds, chipmunks, raccoons—as they neared where the flooded border of the field, which was still about 300 yards away, judging by the sound of jumping fish.

  “It’s time that you learned the philosophy of leadership. You have the brawn, and you have me, but you must now learn to think as I do.”

  “And you’re going to teach me how to do that here? In a field?”

  “You will learn as you go on our journey to restore our species to its rightful place, by applying the theories we explore here today. I know that you never had the opportunity to read the book I gave you.”

  “You mean that old book?” Jamie asked, he and Nicholas reaching the storm-swollen river. All animal noises he heard upon their approach had ceased. But chattering hadn’t just stopped. Jamie realized the animals weren’t there anymore. All the scents were trailing off. All the animals had left the area, scattering in different directions, as if they knew something deadly, something unnatural, was coming their way.

  “Il Principe. Yes, that one. It was my intention to teach you to read it in Italian, and someday I will, but we must now move more quickly, so I’m going to rewrite the most worshiped parts for you, in English.”

  “Wait, you’re going to do this all from memory?”

  “A classical education benefits all areas of the mind.” Jamie looked back toward the house once again to see if they had been followed.

  “Nevermind the puppets,” said Nicholas. “They will move only when I pull their strings. Now, let us begin.”

  Nicholas turned north, leading Jamie up river.

  “Civilization,” he continued, “exists because of an understanding between entities: the leaders, and the followers. Think of it like this—all muscles, all actions, in the body, even those that occur unconsciously, are controlled by the thoughts of the brain.

  Society is the body, and the leader, the body’s brain. The followers are the muscles, expanding and contracting, working, according to the will of the leader. The body moves as one under an effective leader. If the leader is not effective, the body breaks down, and insurrection spreads like a cancer. If a component of the body begins to work out of order with the rest, the leader can have that member removed, dismembered, if you will. Are you following?”

  “I think so.”

  “Il Principe is Italian for The Prince. It is a manual on how to acquire power and keep it. I will cover the most important rules.”

  “What all the other ones? Those aren’t important, too?”

  “Like all books, there’s filler.”

  “All books? Even religious ones?”

  “Especially the religious ones. And most especially, that which is called the good one. Now, may we continue?”

  “Sure.”

  “Once, long ago, there was a man,” he began, stopping by
a tree on the river bank where rope extended from the trunk into the flowing water and began pulling it up, “who rose from nothing, through military ranks, and resolved himself to seize power. He had all those in power, including those who were wealthy but had not been promoted to a position of power, assemble in one location, saying he needed to discuss things of great importance.” Up from the water, attached to the other end of the rope, came two bodies, both teenage males. One had considerably more bruising than the other. “Once everyone had gathered, the man gave the signal and all those in power were slaughtered, thereby destroying his enemies all at once, and acquiring power, in one swift stroke. In so doing, he also prevented power from being seized from him.” Having hoisted the bodies out of the river, Nicholas removed a pocket-size, black leather-bound book from his pants, laying it on the ground.

  “Always remember, Jamie,” Nicholas continued, extending a single claw and slicing the first teen’s wrist, “one should have study of nothing other than war, for this is what will allow he who is in power to retain control when all other attempts to quash rebellion fail.”

  Nicholas dipped the one protruding nail in the boy’s blood and began writing his sermon on the blank pages contained in the little book. Jamie suddenly remembered the original Il Principe Nicholas had shown him in Germany. That book had also been written in blood. With a shudder, he put it all together. He was looking at the author of the original book. He was looking at Machiavelli himself, understanding though, that that was probably an assumed identity at the time, and not Nicholas’s true name. He wondered if Nicholas was even his teacher’s real name.

  “Any questions so far?” asked Nicholas.

  “Just one. Who are they? Where’d they come from?” he asked, pointing at the bodies.

  “I went out hunting last night, in town, needing the ink, if you will. I came across this first young man, bullying the other, beating him for the pair of shoes on his feet. So I killed him.”

  “Okay, I understand. Why kill the other, though?”