Nothing but the doorway leading back to the hall. Probably one of the other guys. He could hear them rooting around, being about as subtle as two bulls in a china shop. A part of him was tempted to camp out and wait. Let Buck and Hammer act as live bait. Surely if he heard them, then the wolf did, too. It would come looking for them and then he could plug it.
Kane shook the thought from his head. It seemed that, contrary to everyone else, he still prided himself on playing by the rules of the Guild, if not the law. Sadly, at times the two were mutually exclusive. He was a hunter first and a cop second, now and always.
He stuck his head out of the door and checked the hallway. Still clear. He was tempted to bang on the wall, tell those two knuckleheads to stop making enough noise to wake the dead, but held himself in check. Doing so would make him as bad as them.
Instead, he continued down the hall toward the next bedroom. He reached for the doorknob then immediately hesitated when he noticed it was closed. Hadn’t they left it open when John and he were up here earlier?
The door exploded off its hinges before he could react. It slammed into him like a freight train, knocking him back, and sandwiched him against the wall. His head collided with the dilapidated wooden paneling and stars filled his eyes before the world greyed out around him.
♦ ♦ ♦
This had been her room. Though she’d been gone for some time, the wolf could still smell the lingering traces of her scent. Her.
It was hard to remember things. It was a creature of instinct now, but her face was burned into its memory ... her red hair, green eyes, fair skin. Something about her was different. With her, the need to hunt was quelled. Replaced by an overwhelming need to...
Mate.
...be with her.
Noise registered in its ears from just outside the door. It rolled its lips back in a snarl, equally angry with itself as it was with whoever dared intrude upon her ... their domain.
He’d been stupid, sloppy, allowing her scent to take him away and drown out all other stimuli. And now one of the intruders had found him.
The wolf heeded the anger, let it take control and override all caution. He drove himself forward, knocking the flimsy wooden barrier out of the way. The wolf felt more than saw the body behind it, heard it slump to the floor where it lay unmoving.
More sounds caught its ears – other intruders quickly racing toward the hall from one of the other rooms.
This one was no longer a threat. It was time to deal with the rest.
The wolf charged full speed, instinct guiding it to compensate for what was likely to come next.
The moment before it reached the opening, another of the intruders stepped from the doorway. Its eyes opened wide in fear as the wolf plowed into it.
Ribs snapped and the weak thing crumbled beneath him.
It didn’t allow itself to get distracted, though. Not yet. Not until all its enemies were laid low. Its left ear twitched at the sound of metal clicking and it rolled with its prey, throwing it toward the third intruder who, even now, was preparing to fire its weapon at him.
The gun went off, an explosion of sound that hurt its ears, but that was the extent of the pain. The first man flew into the second, taking the bullet meant for the wolf.
He was upon them in an instant. The first man was wounded but still alive. Broken and bleeding, the blood was too much for the wolf to resist. Now firmly in the grip of the hunt, it backhanded the second away. The first cried out in its stilted language, but all threat was gone from its voice. Though the wolf didn’t understand the words, it grasped the tone.
But there would be no mercy. It was beyond that. It tore into the man and his cries turned to screams followed by the gurgling of blood as he choked within his ruined throat. Finally there came the last sigh of death and his body became still, save for the warm blood still flowing from the ragged opening that had been his throat.
The taste of blood and flesh awakened a deep hunger within and the wolf was tempted to stay and feast, but something told it that would not be wise.
“You fucking bastard!”
It was the second man. He was getting back to his feet, a metal blade glinting in his hand.
If the wolf had been capable of laughter at the pathetic display, it would have. But it sensed its time was short. Though this man was no threat, he was not alone. Instinct told it that to stay was to be potentially outnumbered in this small space. Though it was strong and swift, such a thing might be its undoing. Besides, as tempting as the feast before it was, there was still the pull of the outdoors and freedom.
Though its warring instincts battled over the need to eat and the need to run free under the moon, it forced them down so it could first deal with this man who thought himself a challenger.
Both the meat and freedom would need to wait if it wanted to survive, and it did. It wanted to live very much.
♦ ♦ ♦
John heard the crash upstairs, the splintering of wood, and the commotion that followed. He raised his gun and waited.
A part of him hated to be down here acting as cover in case the beast got past the rest. There was a good chance the others would shoot it first, robbing him of his rightful kill. The odds were in their favor, after all – three armed hunters against one whelp. He wouldn’t be happy, but he reminded himself that dead was dead no matter who pulled the trigger. One of the first rules his father had taught him was that their mission always took priority over ego. He had a feeling that was a concept lost upon Kane and his buddies, though.
A loud snarl came from upstairs, followed by a gunshot. There was a crash, probably furniture being shattered, and John tensed for what came next: silence or... Screams drifted down to him, followed by the sound of wet meat being torn.
John raised his gun and took aim, wondering who it had been. It was regretful no matter who. He was a hard-ass, he knew that, but he wasn’t entirely heartless. Dying in the line of duty carried with it a modicum of respect, no matter who the hunter was or how much they may have deserved it. He would never hold the life of a whelp over that of another man, so long as that man stood his ground.
Despite the cries of battle from the second floor, he held his position off to the side of the staircase, a view which would allow him to see who or what came down before they could see him.
Lesser men might have run to the aid of their companions, but that could just as easily go as tits-up as anything else. Panic caused people to do stupid things. It was another lesson his father had beaten into him. When you were assigned your post, you didn’t abandon it, no matter what. There was a reason he was where he was, and running upstairs like a goddamned amateur could easily waste the opportunity he was waiting for.
More noises drifted down to him: snarls, faint cursing, the sound of something heavy toppling over. Whatever was going on up there, it was a hell of a fight, but still he stayed where he was, his instincts telling him he was taking the right course.
There! Movement at the top of the stairs.
He steadied his aim, waiting.
The topmost stair creaked as something heavy stepped on it.
His finger tightened on the trigger as he waited to see what would step into view. There was movement in the dark space between bannister posts and John focused on it.
He saw a hand and the sleeve attached to it. One of the others. They must have gotten the bas...
John started to relax his grip, opened his mouth to call out, but then he stopped. The angle was all wrong.
There came a thud, as if a boot had fallen upon the stairs, but it didn’t have the cadence of a footstep. More like something was being dragged down.
That’s when he realized his mistake, saw the large shape almost hidden in shadow behind that of the man. It was carrying him.
John wasn’t sure if it had the other hunter for the purpose of dragging its kill to a safe place or if it was actually using him as a human shield. The latter s
eemed impossible, far too clever a ruse for any whelp to think of. But then again, lately there had been some disturbing signs that the wolves were changing, carrying out attacks with a disturbing amount of forethought.
No matter the case, he realized he couldn’t hesitate.
Whoever was in the wolf’s arms was as good as dead, assuming they weren’t already.
He took aim and opened fire.
37
Pain exploded in the wolf’s thigh as it once more attempted its run to freedom, the booming thunder of another man-weapon leaving a painful ringing in its ears. As it had anticipated, there had been another of the intruders below, lying in wait. Unfortunately, this one had been smart and wasn’t fooled by its ruse.
Its leg gave out and it stumbled on the stairs. The voice buried in its mind cried out, told it that it needed to move because to do otherwise would be a death sentence.
As it fell, it kicked out at the wall with its good leg, propelling itself sideways with the corpse of the fallen prey. When it had grabbed the dead man, it wasn’t sure why at the time. But now it realized the reason had come from the other voice inside its head.
The wolf slammed through the flimsy wooden bars at the side of the stairs and fell, landing with the body between it and the other intruder, an older man who was now advancing upon it.
It made eye contact with the intruder and a vague recollection filled its primitive mind. It had seen this man before, fought him, bested him, but had been stopped before it could feed upon him.
Images flitted through its mind, hazy memories of the past, of this man unconscious before him, of her standing by the man’s side.
The wolf didn’t understand what any of it meant. What it did understand, though, was the challenge of another predator. That’s what this man was, proven by the triumph which shone on his face as he leveled his weapon.
Now!
The voice inside, still faint and far away, screamed the warning and the wolf obeyed. It shoved the dead prey away with everything it had. The body slid, the floor beneath it slick with the blood still leaking from its cooling meat, and slammed into the old man’s legs, knocking him over.
The intruder’s weapon fired before he went down, but the resulting sound and flash of light was nothing compared to the pain that suddenly exploded in the wolf’s side.
The beast snarled in fury, but it quickly became a whimper as its insides seemingly turned to fire, the burning in its gut intensifying with each heaving breath it took.
Every instinct within it screamed for it to fight, to tear this man asunder before he could recover, but it somehow knew that would be a mistake. It was hurt, weakened, and bleeding. It tried to stand and faltered, the pain in its gut and injured leg almost too much to bear.
Crawling on all fours, it forced itself to disengage. It briefly considered the allure of freedom, but doubted its ability to make it far, especially if this man pursued it. And somehow the wolf knew he would.
It needed to find somewhere to hide, to hole up and lick its wounds. Only one thought came to mind – the very place it had been desperate to escape. It needed to return there. Something deep inside, perhaps the other voice, told it that place was hidden. Though it had hated its confinement there, it realized it had also felt safe. In the past, there had been warmth and meat, almost as if it were less a prison and more a lair. Yes. Perhaps it had been wrong to wish to leave.
With an involuntary whimper of pain, it used its waning strength to bound away into the darkness of the house before the man could recover.
The wolf was a predator, powerful and savage, but such primal thoughts were lost to it in that moment as it found the stairs and began to crawl down them.
All it knew as it sought refuge was pain, fear, and a terrible feeling of being alone.
♦ ♦ ♦
Goddamnit!
John pushed himself off the floor, slipped on the blood, and went down again. After a moment, he eased his legs off the corpse – Hammer’s, by the look of it, although it was kind of hard to tell in the condition it was in. Still a stupid name as far as he was concerned.
He’d hit his head but good on the hardwood floor when that thing had pushed the body at him, taking him out at the legs. He grimaced in pain as his tongue felt something, then spat out a tooth and a mouthful of blood. His head ached and his ears rang, but he didn’t have time for any of that shit. He’d been knocked clean out, no telling for how long but, by the fact that he hadn’t been gutted, it couldn’t have been for more than a minute or two.
If there was an upside to this fucked up situation, it was that he’d gotten off the shot. Wasn’t sure where he’d hit, but the cry that had come from the wolf just before he blacked out told him that he’d done more than nicked it. That was fine and dandy by him. Even if it hadn’t been a kill shot, the silver would be eating away at that damn thing’s guts like fire.
He switched on his flashlight and, sure enough, there was a trail of blood, distinct from the gore from Hammer’s body as it led further away toward the back of the house.
“Gonna get you, you son of a bitch,” he muttered to himself.
“Hey!”
Between his fury and still being dazed, he hadn’t heard the movement from up above until now. John swept the beam of his flashlight up and caught sight of two men on the stairs.
“Get that goddamned light out of my eyes,” Kane warned.
John was tempted to tell him to cram it sideways up his ass, but he realized that his dander was up, which wasn’t a good state to be in with the hunt still unfinished. So he swallowed his ire and lowered the light back to the floor.
“What the hell happened to you two?” he asked groggily. “Don’t take no offense, but you boys look like hammered shit.”
♦ ♦ ♦
Kane was ticked. The damned wolf had gotten the drop on him like he was a first year trainee. He knew he needed to start treating these things with more respect than just dumb animals. The case load piling up on his desk these last several months told him as much, but old habits died hard.
As a result, when he’d seen that bedroom door closed up, he’d hesitated. It had only been for the barest of moments, but that was enough for him to be slammed into the wall like a rag doll and left stunned on the floor.
The others hadn’t fared much better. From what Buck had told him when he’d found the man in the other bedroom, pinned beneath a heavy armoire, the thing had attacked quickly, too fast for them to react.
Kane doubted that highly. Those two probably had their thumbs up their own, or each other’s, asses to have been taken out so easily, considering what a racket that damn thing had made.
According to Buck, Hammer was down, most likely dead. Then it had come for him, dropping half the furniture in the place onto his head before making a run for it.
Kane knew he should have felt something for their fallen partner, but right then he was too busy processing what had happened.
That the wolf had run, instead of sticking around to finish them all, was strange in itself. That it had apparently taken Hammer’s body when it left was proof that they needed to up their game, treat this thing like it could think like a man.
The Guild would need to change its tactics to deal with the evolving werewolves. But fuck the Guild for now. Right then, they needed to get their asses in gear if they wanted to have any chance of bagging this thing.
And Kane wanted to get it. He’d been embarrassed enough as of late. Bad enough the old man treated him like a stupid kid and that his daughter thought her hot ass was too good for him. But for a whelp to do it? That would not stand in his book.
“Get your ass moving,” he’d told Buck the second he was free.
“I’m kinda banged up, man.”
“You’re gonna be a lot worse if you don’t get your shit together and move it.”
They’d headed back downstairs where the gruesome sight of two bodies lying upon the floo
r had greeted them. That had stopped them dead in their tracks on the stairs.
Except it hadn’t been two. When one of them began to stir, Kane reacted and nearly put a bullet in the old man, just barely catching himself in time.
John looked up at them. He seemed slightly dazed, but there was determination in his eyes.
His gaze flickered between Kane and Buck. “Don’t take no offense, but you boys look like hammered shit.”
Kane glanced down at the body of their colleague. “That supposed to be a joke?”
John’s eyes bored into his. “That depends on what happens next. You boys gonna turn tail and run, or are you gonna stay and finish this with me?”
38
Ro heard the shots as she made her way up the driveway. She hustled the rest of the way, praying that she wasn’t too late. Just as she’d feared, the front door was wide open, the lock broken. She heard a scuffling noise, a fierce growl, then another gunshot.
She entered the mansion cautiously, sidearm at the ready, and caught a glimpse in the dim light of the wolf lurching away toward the ballroom. She mentally corrected herself that it wasn’t just the wolf, that it was Dean, when she spied two bodies near the foot of the grand staircase. From the amount of blood, it didn’t look hopeful for either of them.
Doing her best to not step in the gore and leave any prints, she approached as slowly as she dared, wanting to know their identities, but at the same time knowing that she needed to find Dean quickly in case the others were still after him. One of the men she didn’t recognize, but there was little doubt this had been his last hunt. The other...
She gasped when she saw her father. Blood dripped from his mouth and he had a good-sized lump on his head, but he groaned when she touched him – still alive! He stirred slightly, but then went slack again, his breathing steady.
She was torn between wanting to assure herself that her father was okay and finding Dean. She looked toward the ballroom, the direction she thought she’d seen him heading, and saw an obvious blood trail leading that way. Her stomach constricted at the knowledge that Dean was hurt, maybe badly. She didn’t fool herself into thinking that her father would quit once he was back on his feet. No, it would only be a matter of time before he started tracking Dean again.
Lycan Moon: An Urban Fairy Tale (Lycan Evolution Book 1) Page 27