by Stead, Nick
“He’s here,” the knocker said, his face once again serious, though there was still that flicker of mischief dancing in his eyes.
“Run!” Ben yelled, too late.
With a snarl, I pounced and landed on Jess. Her gun went off but the shot was wild, and she didn’t get chance to shoot again. I sank my fangs into her arm and savaged until the limb was hanging on by mere threads of flesh and sinew, blood jetting from torn vessels as her heart fluttered in its cage, desperately trying to keep the circulation going. She screamed and beat me with her good arm, but the bloodlust was fighting to take over and her struggles only excited me further.
I grabbed her other arm and wrenched it free of its socket with one powerful jerk of my head. The hunger rumbled through my belly, demanding we feast, but another gunshot from Ben shifted my attention. Gwyn must have seen him taking aim and dived for his weapon, because that bullet also thudded harmlessly into the ceiling, and the two were wrestling when I turned round.
I gave another growl and lunged at the man. Gwyn let go and moved out of my way, so I was free to rip and tear without fear of catching him with my teeth or claws. Ben was already weakening from the bullet in his abdomen, especially now he was no longer keeping the pressure on. He’d moved his hand to fight Gwyn, leaving himself vulnerable to attack there.
Pinning him down with one hand, I used the fingers of my other to dig into the hole and aggravate the damaged nerves. I’d just begun to widen the hole, planning to help myself to the feast within, when I heard the trapdoor burst open and more Slayers pulling themselves up.
“Time to go, chummer,” Gwyn said.
I growled, in frustration this time, hating to be disturbed in the middle of a kill. The unnamed woman was already slipping into unconsciousness, her bullet wound more serious than Ben’s as far as I could tell. But he could have lasted minutes longer while I ate him alive, if it hadn’t been for the interruption.
“Come on, you damn fool!” Gwyn shouted, as if he were trying to make himself heard above the hunger and the bloodlust. “You should be used to fast food by now. Grab yourself some takeaway and let’s go!”
I growled again but did as he suggested, taking hold of the arm I’d severed in my jaws and carrying it like a dog with a bone as we ran outside. The Slayers were pouring from the trapdoor at the back of the warehouse now. I could hear them advancing towards us, a violent river splitting into two streams and flowing around the pallet racks with seemingly unstoppable force. It would certainly take more than me and the knocker in his human body to stop them. Gwyn was right, we needed to run before they had us surrounded. If only it were that easy.
We emerged into the cool night air to the sound of vehicles rushing towards us and the smell of yet more humans closing in on the building. Inwardly I cursed myself for not paying enough attention. I should have sensed them sooner, long before they’d all but moved into position. More than that, I should have guessed they’d send some of their people to cut us off. Highly skilled and experienced or not, Will was only one man. Even if he’d had some help from his master before Jaken chose to forsake him, as He surely had by then, there were only so many Slayers he’d be able to take down on his own before falling himself. And with it being such a large base, they obviously had the resources to attack us on both fronts. Once they’d realised what was happening it was only a matter of time before they sent people to cut off our escape, trapping us between the soldiers coming up from the base and those moving into position round the front of the warehouse. We were going to struggle to slip through unharmed.
To add to the challenge, there was a security fence round the building similar to the one round the part of the base made to look like a more mainstream military operation. It wouldn’t be too much of a problem for us to climb over as long as it didn’t turn out to be electrified, but we’d be vulnerable while we were up there and likely to make easy targets for our enemies to shoot. The only thing we had in our favour was the fact the Slayers probably didn’t want to draw too much attention to themselves after all the damage Dhaer had done. I suspected they’d still be dealing with the aftermath of that situation, and they probably didn’t want to raise further questions before they’d finished explaining away all those deaths and the need for such a strong military presence. It meant they probably wouldn’t be hitting quite as hard that night.
The moment we realised the danger we were in, we darted behind one of the cars parked outside, temporarily hidden but not for long. I looked at Gwyn, hoping he would have a bright idea.
“We split up,” he said. “I’ll only slow you down like this. If you can transform to full wolf quickly enough do it, then get running and don’t stop for anything, not till you’re clear of all these goons.”
I dropped the severed arm to ask “What about you?”
“Out here there’s all the shadows I need,” he answered. Before I could say anything more, he began crawling into the darkness beneath the car, free to return to his true form in the shelter it offered from the light. The area was only dimly lit and we still seemed to be a way off any towns or cities, which meant no other artificial lights to contend with once he was out of the carpark, other than those the Slayers brought with them. And there was no natural light overhead. As long as he could keep out of any torch beams or headlights, he was in little danger of being hurt or captured again. But as a flesh and blood being, the danger remained all too real for myself.
“We decided it was time to leave the country and seek somewhere with more wilderness to hide in,” I told him while my vocal cords were still human enough, the transformation quick to take hold. My flesh felt eager as ever to resume the shift into a more natural form, be it either human or wolf. “Selina and the vampires are waiting for me on the Welsh coast. Will you be coming with us?”
There was only a pile of clothes visible under the car but I heard his voice clear enough. “Well someone has to see you safely back there. Don’t stop to wait for me; I’ll find you when the danger’s passed. Now go!”
My body was still shifting but the change wasn’t far off completing. The moment my flesh had settled into wolf form, I grabbed the severed arm with my jaws again and took off at full sprint, all four paws working together with that liquid grace only quadrupeds can achieve. Behind me, the Slayers were starting to fire off the first spray of bullets, but I proved too fast a target as I bounded effortlessly across the tarmac.
The humans in front were the real threat. They were almost in position, had almost secured both the outer perimeter and the perimeter inside the fencing, creating further walls frail with their mortal flesh, yet impenetrable for as long as they spewed their deadly barrages. Almost, but not quite.
I was forced to zig zag as best I could when the bullets started to fly from all directions. Similar to the Slayers in the warehouse, the ones who’d come above ground were streaming through the main gate and splitting into two separate lines. One line ran round the left side of the fence and the other round the right, so they had people on either side to shoot from all angles and prevent us escaping over any part left undefended. Or at least that was their plan. They hadn’t quite got there quick enough to fill the carpark and there was still a gap in the people lining the fence round the back of the building.
It was to there I ran, doing my best to avoid taking any bullets along the way. I’m not sure how I managed it but somehow I did. Somehow I reached the fence without being wounded and almost cleared it in a single leap. It turned out it wasn’t electrified, maybe because too much security would have looked too suspicious when the main purpose of the warehouse was to hide the alternative passage in and out of their base. If it looked like they had something to hide, intruders were more likely to come looking for what that was. Including undead if we ever managed to muster the force needed to take the fight to the Slayers. And if that day ever came, it would make it easier for us to identify targets worth hitting if there was a strong Slayer presence in the area.
For
a moment I was stuck with my back legs scrabbling to find purchase between the metal bars, and I thought for sure I would be hit. But again fortune decided to smile on me. I managed to heave myself over the top without taking any wounds, though several bullets came close, ricocheting off the metal around my legs.
I landed on my paws and kept going, charging straight at the Slayers positioned on the outside of the fence. There were fewer of them round the outside but it was still enough to send a spray of metal from all angles, and with the added support of their people in the carpark (now aiming their guns through the bars) no natural animal would have stood a chance. I did take a couple of bullets then, one to my hind leg and one to my neck. Blood pumped through the holes and across my fur, threads of crimson hanging down as I ran, breaking and dripping to form a trail for even the most inexperienced of hunters to follow.
The pain was immense but I didn’t slow. Neither bullet had found its way into bone and through sheer willpower alone, I forced my injured leg to continue taking my weight, biting down on the arm in my jaws in response to the agonising sensation of each and every movement. Bone crunched between my teeth, the limb swinging limply in my muzzle and waving grotesquely at the humans. Anyone with a morbid sense of humour might have found that funny, but the man directly in front of me was young, maybe no more than eighteen, and there was no doubt as to the effect it was having on him.
He squeezed off a couple of shots and missed. I had no intention of attacking him but he didn’t know that, and he baulked just before I reached him, abandoning his position in favour of fleeing into the darkness. It was all the opening in my enemy’s defences I needed and despite my wounds I didn’t falter, running straight between the humans and their guns and continuing on to freedom. Had the boy stood his ground they might have succeeded in taking me down. If it had been Will in his place and the old soldier had wanted me dead, I was certain I’d have been brought to a stop by several more wounds, if not killed outright. But as ever, fear was my greatest ally, and the humans’ greatest enemy. The boy succumbed to his terror and fled, and I was permitted to escape with my life.
There were curses and shouts from behind, and the Slayers began to pursue me through the countryside. It wasn’t the first time I’d become the hunted and it wouldn’t be the last, but the wounds I’d sustained that night made it especially perilous. I could feel my strength draining through the hole in my neck, the blood flowing freely, gushing all the quicker as I ran. My heart pounded in time with my legs, every movement paid for with a little more of my life force. And supernaturally enhanced or not, like any flesh and blood creature, I only had so much life to give. I was going to have to heal the damage soon or blood loss would take its toll and I’d pass out, helpless as my hunters closed in.
My strength began to fail quicker than I would have liked, what little distance I’d managed to put between myself and my enemies feeling inadequate with so many of them on my tail. Ideally I’d have waited until I was out of range of their guns to pause for even the briefest of moments needed to heal, but my body was reaching its limits. So I came to a stop in the middle of open moorland, feeling far too exposed, even with the cover of darkness on my side. If the humans could make out my shadowy form I’d be a prime target. I felt like my life was about to end at any moment as my legs finally gave way, buckling out from under me. The woman’s arm fell from my jaws and landed in the dirt with a meaty thud, my body not far behind it as I collapsed into a pitiful heap, shaking and panting heavily.
Blissful unconsciousness was beckoning and I was so tempted to give in to it, a wave of weariness washing over me after all I’d put my body through since infiltrating the Slayers’ base. But to do so would almost certainly mean my life was forfeit, so I fought it and willed my flesh to repair itself.
New strength flowed through me while my lycanthropy did its thing. My grip on the waking world heightened and the hunger took over, demanding more energy to replenish the reserves I’d all but depleted with all the shifting and running. The arm seemed to be waving again and it was all the invitation I needed. I lowered my jaws to the cooling flesh and began to feed, biting off chunks of meat and gulping them down with such satisfaction, I almost forgot about the imminent death coming my way. The bullet wounds healed before I was finished with the tasty morsel I’d snagged. When I rose back up to my four legs there was nothing but a few blood splatters left. I’d eaten everything, bones and all.
My ear cocked at the sound of vegetation crunching underfoot. The Slayers were closing in again. I’d lingered too long – it was time to resume my flight or risk taking Gwyn’s place as their most prized prisoner. If they didn’t just kill me and be done with it.
I still felt ravenous but the hunger would have to wait now. For the time being I was the prey, and there was only one way I was surviving this hunt. I ran.
CHAPTER TWENTY–TWO
The First Steps Towards Redemption?
The rest of the night passed as swiftly as my paws over the earth. I took off across the moors, the land around me a blur. It felt like I’d entered into an altered state of being, a state in which there was only the flow of my muscles, the air sliding through my fur and the thumping of my heart in its cage. It beat with the same wild joy I’d felt in the dream of the future I now sought on distant shores, caged, and yet singing with the kind of freedom humanity would never know. For all their modern comforts, they toiled under the gruelling demands of the modern world, chained to their tedious routines of education and employment, while time passed them by and their youth slipped away. Sure they had their days off, their limited time to enjoy the pleasures their hard work could buy them. But they could never truly be free.
To think I’d mourned the loss of that life, when really I should have been celebrating the gift lycanthropy had bestowed upon me. Time had no hold on my ageless body, and outside of the demands of my own hunger and the moon’s call to hunt, my life was mine to do with as I pleased. Maybe these feelings were coming solely from my lupine side, but in that moment I was simply happy to be alive and running freely, a creature of unnatural origin becoming one with the earth. I felt like the land was mine to roam as I saw fit, and mankind would not take that from me, not even the Slayers and their guns.
True wolves can cover great distances before they begin to tire. In my full wolf form, I had all the strength and stamina of my natural cousins and more, and I could keep sprinting for far longer. The Slayers did their best to follow. Heavy duty vehicles tore up grass and dirt, roaring in my wake with destructive force. I ran across the land with a grace the machines could never match, swerving away long before they could cut me off. Shouts of frustration rang through the night, bringing another wolfish grin to my muzzle. I deliberately ran towards a low hedge and leapt over it, never once slowing. The jeep behind me skidded to a halt, with more angry shouts. They couldn’t crash through these natural barriers without attracting too much attention. It was another kind of chain placed on them by their own society, and it was going to cost them the hunt.
Helicopters cut through the night sky. Bullets began to rain down, the soil exploding around my paws with a round of near misses. I pushed myself harder still, my ears fixed on the growing sounds of human civilisation.
Open fields gave way to urban sprawls. The helicopters peeled off, the Slayers unwilling to risk one too many questions from the world at large. My muscles were starting to burn with the effort of keeping to a full sprint but I didn’t slow, determined to cover most of the miles back to the Welsh coast in that single burst. Not even the coming of dawn could deter me. Running around in broad daylight was always risky, but I was less worried about being seen when I was only passing through these areas – it wasn’t like I was planning on sticking around for any length of time. If all went to plan we’d be on a ship before long, so what did it matter if the Slayers caught sight of me again? They could get away with less during the daytime than they could at night, and by the time they were able to mount another l
arge-scale hunting party, I’d be long gone. So let them sight me and report back to their bases. It would do them no good.
Through streets I ran and across people’s gardens, into patches of forest and over farmland, ignoring all boundaries and human ideas about private property. As a wolf I was free to go where my human self couldn’t, without fear of run-ins with the law for trespassing and the like. I was met with more than one shocked face gawping at me through their windows, but I took little notice. Unless they were Slayers, they’d either mistake me for a large stray dog or they’d recognise me as a wolf and assume I was the same rogue beast who’d terrorised Yorkshire. It didn’t matter either way. I was determined to find my way back to my friends and get our voyage underway, and the humans weren’t going to stop me.
It was probably late morning when I finally slowed, once I was satisfied I’d lost my pursuers. I’d left the last town behind and covered some more distance over countryside, out of sight of the human world as they raced by in their cars, oblivious to all but the road ahead. There was another small patch of woodland I ran to, thinking it would offer cover while I took a few hours to rest. Then I would figure out where I was and how to get back to my friends.
I stood panting between the trees, my tongue lolling between my fangs and my heart pounding with my body’s need for more oxygen. Thirst drove me to a nearby stream where I lapped up the cool waters, fascinated by the sight of the blood on my muzzle mixing with the clear liquid and turning it to a dirty red. The fluid didn’t so much wash the deaths from my maw as spread it across itself. All that was pure became impure, tainted by my touch. That taint twisted and writhed in the water around me, tentacles of some monstrous thing I’d spawned from the veins of the dead, in one of nature’s veins of life. My spawn went with the current, still lingering on the surface for several minutes after I’d finished drinking, until it faded away, like the very people it had been taken from. Then it was gone and the water ran clear once more, while my fur remained as dirty as ever.