by ST Branton
“Do you?” I asked, hoping that I could keep her off the subject of my date with a werewolf.
She scratched the back of her neck. “I don’t know. I really don’t. Before college, I always thought I’d stay local forever. I’m from Oakland, and I really liked it there. I thought of it as home.”
“But then?” I prompted gently. I didn’t want her to feel like I was forcing her life story out, but I also knew how cathartic it could be to unload all those weights. And she seemed to be carrying a few.
“Well, then I came out, and it didn’t go so well. My family is kind of religious, and my grandparents especially couldn’t really handle it. We’ve always been one big extended unit, so I think my parents found it impossible not to pick sides. For a while, I was out in the cold. Thank God California is a big enough state that I could go away to school without paying out the ass for tuition and board.”
“Man, I’m sorry.” I swirled my beer, searching for words that wouldn’t seem shallow and meaningless. “Did they ever come around?”
“They’re starting to.” She gave me a tight smile that suggested it was still a slow process. “They mean well, I think. And they say they still love me. But there’s a lot of inevitable friction when I go home for family gatherings. A lot of unspoken awkwardness, you know? Like two elephants in the room instead of just the one.”
“So that’s why you came here?”
“Yep.” Maya received a whiskey sour and took a long sip. “I told them it was because I got sick of the brutal California heat, but we all know I was getting away from them. It’s been good for me, though. I have a lot more perspective than I did when I was still so close to the core of the issue. Which might just be because I don’t have to deal with their bullshit all day, every day.”
I looked around the bar. It looked as though all of Silver Banks was stuck in the 1950s. “Seems you picked a place pretty hospitable for the gay community.”
We laughed together, both of us understanding the irony of her decision.
“Hey, what’s going on over here?” Wade’s slurring voice cut in over our conversation, and instantly, the laughter stopped. Maya and I both stared at him in disgusted expectation. “We havin’… havin’ girl time or whatever the hell?” He slumped his way onto the barstool behind Maya. She inched closer to me. “Aw, don’t be scared. I’m not gonna hurtcha.”
“Watch it, Wade,” I warned him. “Neither of us are in the mood to humor your slimy ass tonight.”
“Ooh.” He grinned. “Talking tough, are we? I like it. You almost sound like you could be a real hunter someday, instead of a little baby poser.”
I clenched my teeth. “You have no fucking clue what you’re talking about, Wade. Now let us have our drinks in peace, before some shit goes down that you can’t undo.”
“Come on.” He laughed a drunken laugh. “I’m just makin’ conversation,” he said nonchalantly, leaning back with his elbows on the bar. “Seems like a couple of pretty ladies like you ought to appreciate my company if you weren’t such stone-cold bitches.”
“I bet they’re real teases in the bedroom, too,” the short stocky dipshit standing next to him said.
Wade eyed me up and then Maya. Wagging his finger, he said, “Ahhh, now I get it. Yeah, these two are something between the sheets, but I’m sure we’ll never get invited.” He slapped the back of his hand across his friend’s chest, and they both laughed like animals.
“That’s it!” Maya slammed her hand on the bar, making the glassware jump. “You can fuck off straight to hell, Wade Stevens. I have had it with your shitty, misogynistic, asshole posturing!”
Dead silence fell and lasted about five seconds. I couldn’t tell who was more shocked, me or the douche patrol. Then Wade’s friends started whooping and jeering. A dark cloud passed across his brick of a face. “That wasn’t very nice,” he said coldly. His words had gained a distinct edge that I really didn’t like. “And as a personal rule of thumb, I believe in punishing that kind of disrespect.”
He started to get out of his seat, albeit unsteadily. His shadow fell over Maya. She looked up at him, unmoving.
“Try it, you horse’s ass,” she snarled.
I saw his fist clench at his side, and then I was on my feet, staring him down over Maya’s head. “If you so much as lift a finger against her, I will shove your ugly head so far up your ass that no one will be able to tell the difference.”
“Is that supposed to scare me?” he asked mockingly.
“Ask me that again when you’ve been shitting teeth for a week.”
I stepped around Maya toward him, just in case he got it in his pea brain to throw a punch. To my immense satisfaction, Wade’s first reflex was to take a step back. He glared at me, eyes bright with blazing fury. Then he turned around and stormed out of the bar without even gathering up his flock of goons. They glanced between me and their retreating leader. I didn’t turn my back on them until the last one was completely out the door.
“That was pretty ballsy, Vic,” Maya said as the chatter picked up again. “I’m impressed.”
“I could say the same.” I shot her a grin. “Who knew you had those fangs hidden away in you?”
She shrugged it off. “Sorry, I’m not really sure what came over me. I’m basically a pacifist. Ignoring them all is usually my MO, but I’ve been so angry all day. I don’t know, maybe it’s the body sitting in my lab that’s got me all riled up.” She lifted her glass to her lips. “But honestly, sometimes I just want to rip his throat out.” The glass went back onto the bar, still half full. “Hey, I’m sorry to cut this short, but I’m not feeling so great all of a sudden. Maybe those shots were a mistake.” Maya smiled weakly. “I had fun tonight, Vic. You’re the best kind of stranger.”
Before I could say anything in return, she’d slipped through the crowd and out the door. I watched it swing shut behind her.
Weird night. And I had a feeling things would only go downhill from here.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
It was late when I finally left the bar, and the joint was still hopping. Wade hadn’t shown his ugly mug since Maya and I had shut him down, which made for a much more pleasant drinking experience. I was a little buzzed, but not severely—just enough to feel good as I made my way down the street toward Smitty’s house. I hoped Amber would be sound asleep when I got in.
A thick, dark layer of cloud cover had rolled in while I was inside the bar, obscuring the sky. On my way to Smitty’s, the clouds shifted, and the bright eye of the moon emerged from behind its veil. It was almost perfectly round, save for a tiny sliver of the side. I blinked at it.
Then I heard a long, haunting howl rise through the trees. It was an unearthly sound that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. “What the hell was that?”
My guess is that it was the call of a Forgotten, Marcus said.
“Well, shit.” Immediately, I turned on my heel and headed back toward the center of town. Not three minutes after I’d changed my course, the screams began to reach my ears. I burst into a run, ignoring the protests from various injured pieces of my body. The screams rose in a horrible crescendo—finally mimicking the distant howl.
Silver Banks was shifting.
In the shadows of nearby buildings, people fell to the ground, ripping at their clothes. And they didn’t remain people for long.
Hulking shoulders and long, powerful arms replaced human skin as the townsfolk turned into werewolves. Off the top of my head, I counted three, but I was sure there had to be more. The screams reached a fever pitch, penetrating all my senses.
Then a very human cry of pain broke through the eerie animal noises. Not everyone was turning—but those who weren’t animals were being ripped apart by them.
The killings had begun.
There was nothing else to do but draw my sword and jump into the fray.
The light from the Gladius Solis drew the Weres’ attention like nothing else. Their bronze eyes seemed simultaneously entr
anced and repulsed by the burning blade. One of them, the largest, appeared to recognize the sword for what it was. He growled. I held it up tauntingly.
“Do you hate this?” I asked. “Yeah? Good. It hates you, too.”
In the sword’s illumination, I got a better look than ever at the big, bad wolf, and it wasn’t pretty. The first thing I really noticed—again—were the teeth, elongated and gleaming behind curled-back lips. A thread of saliva hung from the corner of the beast’s mouth, vibrating with the intensity of its low growl. The stunted snout jabbed the air, nose quivering. It stood perfectly still on it’s hind legs—a strange hangover from it’s human past that only added to their unnatural appearance. Even though it’s head hunched down between it’s shoulders, it was easily seven feet tall.
Then it lunged.
The muscles in its arms and legs tightened visibly like steel cords. Finding myself beneath the diving shadow, I ducked and rolled forward, out of the reach of its already tearing claws. Chunks of earth were tossed up like shrapnel from where it landed behind me. I pivoted neatly, the Gladius Solis outstretched to its full length. My opponent whirled around, reared back on two legs, and let out another howl. At close range, the sound was ear-splitting, as well as haunting.
I thought I heard the others turn and start to close in. This could get very bad, very fast. I needed to press my attack before they could join the fight and surround me.
I adjusted my grip on the glowing sword and ran straight at my opponent, leaping with the hilt clasped overhand for a double-handed, spearing strike. The Were batted at me. Too late, I realized I’d misjudged the reach of its sinewy arms.
“Shit!” The world spun cockeyed as the great paw landed its blow, tossing me to the side and knocking the breath from my lungs.
I struggled to right myself in midair and brace for the horrible pain of impact at the same time; on both counts, I was half successful. My arm and shoulder managed to absorb most of the fall, but the wave of agony that followed truly rocked me. I pushed up on to my arms and breathed through the pain. As soon as I could muster enough force, I released a curse into the world. “Holy fucking shit damn, that hurts!”
On your feet, Marcus said. Though I sympathize, you have no time to languish. Trust the effects of the nectar and get back into the fight. The enemy approaches.
He was right; I could feel the werewolf’s heavy footfalls reverberating through the ground beneath me. Determined not to be bested by some mangy demon dog, I regained my footing and brandished my blade once again, facing the monster head-on. It reached for me in a scooping motion, aiming to pick me up in that massive grip.
“Hey!” I jumped to the side, shooting forward to jab at the werewolf’s wrist, which was spidered with veins. “No touching!” The blade caught a clean slice over bare skin on the underside of its bulging forearm. As the Were jerked its arm back, I felt a pattering shower of something I quickly identified as blood. “Oh, gross.” It smelled heavy, thick, metallic.
Come, Victoria. Finish your kill, then move onto the next. This one will be weakened by his wound.
I took a step back. The creature hovered, bracing the hurt arm against its side. A red pool was starting to form near its feet. I must have gotten it pretty good. Rather than become enraged by the scent of the blood, as I’d expected, it seemed rattled. The great, grotesque head swiveled on its neck, searching for me.
Imagined families of this human stuck in the form of a Were ran through my mind.
“I can’t just kill them, Marcus. You saw them turn. Someone—something—is making them act like this. I just know it.”
You can’t be sure of that, and either way it is irrelevant. There is little room for nuance in war. They will overwhelm you.
“They won’t if I make sure they can’t. That one from before ran away, right? Maybe I can get them to retreat.”
They will only return once they have healed. He was obviously not on board with the plan that was starting to take shape, but it was impossible for me to justify killing any more of them as long as the first girl’s dead face remained stuck in my mind.
“Then we’ll have to find a better way to deal with them by then.” What that way was, I had no idea, but he didn’t have to know that yet. I refused to believe there was no other solution.
The werewolf finally caught sight of me again, and its gaze locked on me like a laser sight. I saw the hateful rage bloom black in its fiery eyes. It hunched forward, preparing for another lunge, the powerful body coiling under its own kinetic energy. I ran backward and cocked back the arm holding the sword. If this worked, I was going to feel awesome. If it didn’t, there was a good chance I’d be screwed.
The werewolf pounced, trailing crimson from its busted wrist. At the same time, I propelled my arm forward and let the Gladius Solis fly. It sailed through the night air like a blazing comet—and buried itself just under the ribs of my target, who let out a surprising yelp and twisted to the side, stopping its leap short.
Without wasting time, I recalled Kronin’s sword. It was harder than usual, possibly because it had been sandwiched underneath a heap of sprawling wolfy limbs. I hoped that the blade wouldn’t accidentally slice the Were in half as it searched for a way out, but as the werewolf stood unsteadily, the Gladius Solis unearthed itself from flesh and returned to me. As per usual, it was not covered in blood, which was still my second favorite thing about it.
Your connection with the sword grows stronger, Marcus observed approvingly. But your decision to show mercy will prove problematic in the very near future. I am sure of it.
“Good thing I’m one hell of a problem solver!” I said cheerfully, sinking down into a fighting stance in case the Were should charge again. It was covering the new wound with both paws, a gesture I found distressingly human.
“See?” I asked softly. “Look at that.” The creature moved away from me, dropped to all fours, and ran off toward the woods, leaving drops of blood in its wake.
Monsters feel pain as much as you do, was all Marcus said. But he didn’t push the issue anymore. I guessed I wasn’t the only one getting better at communication.
“Hey, Vic!” The voice made my blood turn to ice. I turned so fast it made my head spin. Amber ran down the road from the direction of Smitty’s house. She had a long rifle in her hand. “Watch out!”
“Amber, get out of here!” I shouted. The last thing I needed or wanted in this situation was for her to get maimed in front of me. I wasn’t what you might call extremely maternal, but I already felt some level of responsibility for the kid, seeing as I’d brought her Were-hunting in the forest with me.
“Not on your life!” she answered. “Behind you!”
A crash shook the ground. I looked to see two other Weres ripping into a building, trying to get at the screaming group inside. Amber immediately moved down a notch on my priority list, but only one. At least she had a gun.
A war cry erupted from my throat as I charged toward the building, which I soon recognized as the bar. The trapped victims must have thought its stone and brick façade would stand a better chance of protecting them, but I could see how wrong they’d been. The Weres used their brutish limbs as battering rams, punching and clawing.
When they heard me screaming, their heads came up and their bronze eyes fixed on me. A shot rang out from behind me. I knew it was Amber, and I wished I’d thought to tell her not to kill. Hoping she’d get the idea, I waved my sword at the two Weres, still shouting. The flash of golden light made them flinch. One of them hunkered down onto itself, hackles raised, snarling.
They really were animals, and they didn’t know what the hell I had in my hand.
Emboldened by what I could only interpret as fear on their part, I gripped the hilt with both hands and resumed my forward sprint, slashing at the air as I approached. The werewolves reared back on their hind legs, startled. The one on the left made an instinctive grab for my sword, but the heat of the blade warded him off.
I swung it
, singeing a patch of the wolf’s coarse fur. He made another grab, this one ending in a cut. A flame leapt up the sinewy arm. Freaked out, he finally bailed. The smell of burning hair followed him into the waning night.
These guys were not like the vamps at all. Big, yes. Initially intimidating and hyper-aggressive, yes. But they seemed to scare easier, or at least, be more averse to pain. Maybe they liked attacking humans so much because a regular person couldn’t hurt them enough to make them think it was a bad idea.
That was my job.
I rounded on the last Were that I could see, who began to circle me warily. This one had witnessed what went down with his buddy and was not so keen on having the same thing happen to him. He kept his fierce sight on the sword, not me.
I wondered if I could use it to lead him a little. But as soon as I moved faster than a step at a time, I got swiped at and had to resort to ducking and rolling again. Back on my feet, I slashed, hitting a meaty flank. The werewolf howled. I got in a second slash.
Amber fired another shot. The bullet went in near the Were’s hip and rocked him backward. Unable and unwilling to divide his attention between the sword and an as yet invisible assailant, he wheeled into a limping gallop out of the town center.
After making sure he wasn’t coming back, I headed for the bars doors. They were both badly dented, one of the frames twisted at the top. One more strike, and they probably would have collapsed.
“Are you guys okay?” I asked, forcing the doors open. “You need to get back home while the coast is clear. This building isn’t going to stand up to another beating like that.”
The group stared at me with confused, terrified faces. “What the hell were those things?” a guy demanded, mopping the bald crown of his head with a handkerchief. “We can’t go out there! How do we know they won’t come back?”