CHAPTER EIGHT
A couple hours later, after carrying most of our instruments and equipment from my car into the Home Bar storage room (Nolan agreed to haul the amplifiers and heavier items we’d need for the show in his own vehicle,) I felt oddly unaffected by the prospect of performing for a crowd tonight.
I couldn’t overlook the notion that Zephora and Alexis would use my niece to achieve their aims at any cost, all the while setting me against her. Nonetheless, I couldn’t do anything about it. Her mother had built up a tremendous amount love and respect inside Celestina, despite the fact that she walked a thin line when it came to abusing her daughter. Based on our last encounter, it seemed that Celestina would take whatever precautions to prevent me from ending my sister’s life. It disturbed me that my niece thought so little of me, that she thought me capable of purposely trying to murder my family members, but she made a good point. The relatives I came into contact with tended to end up dead!
I went back to the van to retrieve my microphone and mic stand. I opened the back doors, removed the stand, and set it down on the ground, only to sense movement behind me. I spun around.
Alexis stood opposite me, flanked on either side by a couple of men in their late 20s with heavy beards. Her ebullient smile contrasted with the harsh glares the men sent my way. She glanced on either side of her. “Just wanted to stop by and get some payback for practically killing me.”
“You’re not dead,” I said, “Even if Celestina hadn’t stopped me, I still wouldn’t have killed you.” Obviously, she had located me by following my soul signature. I wish I knew how to cloak it.
“Why not? You killed Mom. After me, who’s next? My daughter?”
Her question nearly knocked the breath from my body. “I don’t want to kill anyone. I just—”
“End up killing them. Face it, little sis, you’ve killed two witches in our family. Why? Are you angry that you didn’t get the same amount of power as we did?”
I sensed that she was biding time to allow the men on either side of her to decipher any weaknesses I might exhibit as well as pick the best moment to attack. I examined them in hopes of identifying any paranormal powers. Each of them had short, but thick, dark hair. Their determined expressions disclosed that they had arrived to fulfill a mission they were determined to see through to the end, regardless of the personal cost.
That didn’t bode well. I couldn’t detect any overt abilities, but I guessed they would only come once they attacked because Alexis wouldn’t have brought them for show and tell. Bringing backup revealed she didn’t entirely feel that she could take me one-on-one. For the briefest of moments, I couldn’t ignore the pride that sprung forth upon realizing that she felt the need to bring reinforcements to defeat me, but then reality bounced back, forcing me to acknowledge the quartet of men facing me weren’t interested in a meet-and-greet. Therefore, I set my mind toward how best to deal with them and Alexis.
“I don’t think you’ve met anyone like these guys,” said my sister.
“Well, guys make up half the population, so it’s not really an eye-opener.”
“But how many of them are werewolves?”
My mind reeled at the possibility. I scanned their features. Their heavy, matted hair lent the impression that they might indeed be werewolves, and I knew better than to distrust my sister’s remarks, so I examined their body structure and stature for any areas of weakness I could attack with a reasonable amount of success. In that instance, I’d need to strike with the least amount of time and resistance in order to turn my attention to the person (or wolf) beside him.
“Turns out,” Alexis said, “werewolves can change on the day leading up to and after a full moon. Who knew?” A good-natured smile touched her lips. “Oh, that’s right, Zephora.” She looked skyward. “She’s too much.”
Although the sun had vanished over the horizon, it was still light out, but a hazy full moon had already risen. “Why werewolves?” I asked.
“You seem to handle vampires pretty well. They may be fast and strong, but they walk on two feet. Werewolves use four legs, and you haven’t fought anything like this before.”
I presumed that, like the demon Kendall had fed on in my home, Zephora had called out to werewolves and this pack arrived to deal with me.
“Good luck,” said Alexis with a chuckle. She gestured to the men beside her and stepped away from them as though they weren’t worthy of sharing her company. Each of them slipped off their shoes, undid the button on their pants, and slipped out of them, before standing in their socks.
“I’m telling you the truth, Alexis,” I said, irritated by her ignorance while also incredibly intimidated by the pack of werewolves a dozen feet away from me. “I told you, Lucifer controls Zephora, but you’re still stupid enough to believe that I’m lying.” Calling her stupid might work against me, but I needed to light a fire under her to consider my words as truth.
She waved a hand through the air as though trying to push aside a foul scent. “You lie all the time, don’t you? Is it a habit or do you just like hurting people?”
“Remember when we talked in The Lucky Bean Coffee Shop a few days ago? You promised not to lie to me, and I trusted you. Because of that, I’ve never lied to you. You also said you’d try to read my mind every chance you got, but I’ve done a good job of preventing it from happening.” I glanced at the men facing me. “You obviously think I’m a threat, and I want to prove that I’m not. So for just this one time, I’m going to give you a backstage pass to my mind. You can ask any question and get the truth.”
She permitted a condescending smile. “So you can lie to me? Not gonna happen. I don’t trust you, little sis, and I never will.” She nodded at the men on either side of her. She obviously thought they would tear every limb from my body.
They elicited low grunts as their torsos transformed from sinewy muscles to thick and massive. Their hair darkened and sprouted across their faces, arms, shoulders, chests, and arms.
Terrified, I watched the pain they endured. I could throw fire at them, but I recalled that these creatures weren’t vampires or demons. They were humans who had the ability to reconstruct their bodies a few days each month because Zephora had cursed their ancestry to pass on this genetic blight to future generations. Granted, they followed her orders, but it didn’t make them evil. They were simply brainwashed, and for that reason, I couldn’t kill them unless I needed to do so in order to save my life.
Likewise, I could pull in the energy around me and thrust it toward them, but it would only knock them down and infuriate them. Afterwards, they would race toward me in an attempt to tear my heart out of my chest. I could attack now while they had no chance to retaliate. However, an alternate option came to mind. I could run.
Far from a cowardly option, I regarded it as the smartest move I could make, so I rushed toward the door Alexis had just entered. The moment I pulled open the door, I felt a foot slam into my lower back, pushing me against the door and shutting it. The blow expelled the air from my lungs, sprawling me flat against the door.
I spun around and faced a quarter-turned werewolf (the others were too busy shrieking in pain while their bodies worked on fully forming). This man’s teeth and fingernails had grown three times the normal size of a human. I half-expected his muscles to tear off his shirt and pants like the Incredible Hulk. He still stood like a man, but once he turned into a wolf, he’d attack on all fours. It meant that I couldn’t rely on basic fisticuffs because he wouldn’t stand at a similar height, but would have a lower center of gravity, which would make him that much harder to fight. In that case, I could still strike his head, shoulders, and back, but not his chest or…
That gave me an idea. Rather than allow him to continue transforming, I relied on the most logical maneuver available to me. I kicked him in the nuts. That tactic snapped his head back as his legs collapsed and his knees crammed into the concrete. Instead of continuing to transform, his body reverted to human form. Ma
ybe debilitating him had pried his thoughts away from turning into a werewolf and centered his attention on trying to relieve the pain.
I figured these men had the same strengths and weaknesses once they turned into werewolves of fictional lore: they had tremendous power, a silver bullet would kill a wolf, and a werewolf bite would release venomous toxins in the salivary glands to transform that individual into a werewolf upon the appearance of the next full moon. That would occur within the next two hours, which added up to one thing: don’t get bitten.
I hurried behind the man-beast, prepared to snap his neck, only to recall he wasn’t a vampire or a demon. He was a human cursed by his ancestry.
To administer another form of pain and hopefully prevent him from mutating, I found a pressure point in his shoulders and pressed hard enough that it forced him to the ground, lying still.
Just as I prepared to swing around to the others, I felt a foot bash into my ribs, sprawling me out onto the concrete. I spun around and tried to regain a firm grasp of my surroundings, since my vision took a while to catch up to the action taking place before me.
My next adversary, having transformed halfway into a werewolf, rushed toward me. His button down flannel shirt tore at the back, and his blue jeans split at the thighs, revealing thick fur. Below tufts of thick eyebrows, his enlarged eyes were bright brown. He opened his mouth, and an angry roar erupted.
I scrambled to my feet, and when he leapt toward me, I ducked and watched as he soared an inch over my head. He came down on all fours seven feet behind me and continued running until he arced in a wide half-circle in order to return in my direction and target me again.
The other two men behind me allowed the transformative process to proceed without any interest in attacking me, probably because they figured the lone werewolf in-transition had matters under control. In the unlikely event that I bested him, this duo would be at full-strength, whereupon they no doubt considered defeating me an all but a certainty.
The wolf behind me set his sights on me again and shot toward me.
I preferred to hurry towards the door, but by using four legs, the lone wolf had doubled his speed, and I wouldn’t have enough time to slip inside the facility before he clawed me to the ground, so I settled on a middle ground. I raced toward the door, but when I reached the halfway mark toward it, I spun around.
The wolf, now less than ten feet away from me, threw himself in the air, aiming straight for me. With no option to run, I held my ground and calculated my chances of success with various strategical attacks. Only one ensured a punishing blow, much less survival. I applied a spinning hook kick.
My foot slammed into the lone wolf’s face, which snapped his head back, but with so much force pushing forward, his neck slammed into the door, evoking a heavy thump. The wolf fell to the ground, but scrambled up a second later, although it stumbled around on unbalanced legs. The front pair held firm, but their pair of two hind legs couldn’t determine the amount of strength needed to remain upright. The wolf swerved around for a few moments and collapsed. It seemed the wolf had suffered a concussion.
Two down, two to go.
I spotted the next werewolf, now fully transformed, while his buddy still had perhaps another fifteen seconds to complete his metamorphosis. The werewolf attacked, and I barely had enough time to prepare for the next onslaught. After dodging a clawed fist, which came quickly but not nearly as fast as the fists of fury Darius had fired off, I did a back kick.
The blow caught him in the ear. He staggered in place, more startled and irritated than harmed. Caught unprepared, he shook his noggin, attempting to regain his wits.
These beasts had rushed me so quickly, even if I wanted to use my magical abilities, I wouldn’t have had enough time to send flames or energy blasts at them. Without the opportunity to rely on my supernatural gifts, they would eventually wear me down until they leaped on me and tore the flesh from my body.
I used the respite to rush toward the door in order to escape the now fully formed werewolf, but just as I grasped hold of the door handle, a fingernail tore the fabric of the back of my top, and the tips of the nails slightly scraped my skin. My cheek slammed against the door, causing my head to throb. My body slid downward, but I knew giving in to that automatic response might result in death.
Rather than waste time turning around to face my opponent, I grasped the door handle and pulled it open. Then sharp incisors sank into my skin and clenched onto the right side of my neck. I shrieked, unable to hold in the misery, as a spasm racked my body while my hand fell away from the doorknob. When the werewolf’s teeth fell away from my body, I felt a slight reprieve in pain and managed to half-turn around to confront my adversary. A rush of bitter, humid breath brushed against my face from eight inches away.
Once again, the beast dug deep into my flesh, burrowing for the greatest grasp possible. Screaming out in pain, I gave way to my reflexes as they forced me to abandon hope of entering the building as the werewolf behind me dragged my body backwards.
Fear throttled throughout my body, resulting in a pent-up dose of adrenaline that all but rendered the pain in my injured shoulder inconsequential. Now that he locked another mouthful in place without permitting me a way to free myself from him his grasp, I was now mere seconds away from the moment he tore me limb from limb.
How did this affect my circumstances? Rather than dealing with one wolf after another, which left me no chance to think but only react, I now had time to use my magical abilities. If I didn’t try to make use of my gifts, the beasts would maul me to death.
Without wasting another moment, I pulled my left arm behind me, pushed it towards the werewolf, and grabbed a fistful of fur. With desperation making my body quiver, I shut my eyes and concentrated on sucking as much energy into my being as possible.
The wolf removed his teeth for only a moment and then bit down again, this time with greater ferocity and covering a wider area of my shoulder.
Maybe shock had diverted my pain receptors from reaching my brain, but the way the beast shook its head, viciously shaking my body side to side made it difficult for me to regain control of my body. I’d only managed to stay somewhat stable by clenching a fist of his hair.
Energy mounted inside me, and I directed it to the left side of my body, specifically through my left arm. It shot past my elbow, surged through my forearm and wrist, and erupted from my fingers.
The teeth clamped onto my shoulder fell away, indicating that my magical attack knocked the beast off his feet. Pain sizzled across my right shoulder, but I did my best to overlook the agony. I suspected that the flesh there was stripped and gory, but checking it would only incite fear that I might not withstand this attack. I looked back.
The werewolf lay fifteen feet away against a steel lamppost fixture.
The final wolf had just finished the transformation process. He leapt toward me.
A moment later, a paw looped around my right leg, pulling my legs out from under me. My elbows rammed into the ground, sending bolts of misery sizzling up my arms. They were now useless since the pain spread to my fingers, and I couldn’t feel them. If I tried to pull myself to my feet, the streaks of torment bolting through my arms would make it difficult to determine the amount of pressure I should use to push off the concrete. That meant I couldn’t count on those appendages to tell me when I’d maximized the amount of energy needed to accomplish the feat.
Grunting in anguish, I pushed one forearm ahead of the other in an attempt to pull myself toward the door, but I moved too slowly. At this pace, I’d never make it to the door before this werewolf clawed me to death. Since my body was momentarily useless, I had to once more rely on magic. I swiveled around, crying out in pain now that I’d utilized the last shred of adrenaline available to me. My energy level subsided, my thoughts slowed and lurched like car tires passing over speed bumps, and the pain in my shoulder throbbed and swelled. I screamed in pain and surveyed the scene behind me.
The werewol
f I’d kicked in the crotch still lay on the ground, out of play in this battle. The concussed werewolf lay in a heap by itself, blinking as though it had double vision and attempted to reset his eyes so he’d only see one scene unfold before him instead of two. The werewolf I’d sent flying into the lamppost now got to its feet. He opened his mouth wide and displayed saliva-slicked teeth that looked more fitting for a shark than a beast that walked the Earth.
But none of those werewolves mattered because the final wolf now sprung toward me. By reflex, I lifted my left hand and to shield him from crashing down on me, not that it would stop a two-hundred and fifty pound animal from crushing my one-hundred and ten pound frame. Surprisingly, I felt tremendous force shooting through me that burst from my hand immediately afterwards.
When the beast didn’t hammer my body into the concrete, I opened my eyes.
The werewolf who’d just attacked me bowled into the first beast I’d slammed against the lamppost. They clambered around on the ground, kicking out at each other to find their footing and mount another attack.
The pressure in my left arm evaporated, and I no longer saw barely visible pulses of energy shooting toward the werewolves. My pain, fright, blood loss, and lack of focus all contributed to my inability to continue the barrage.
If I couldn’t use magic, I’d have no chance to escape these werewolves, especially now that the first two that had attacked scrambled to their feet. With no time to spare, I spun around, cringing at the pain pulsating through my right side, but I refused to let it hinder my determination to obtain my goal: getting through the back door to safety.
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