Amanda ducked into the parlor closest to the stairs, an office of sorts, complete with a desk and wet bar. A small pile of clothes were scattered across the floor. She knew what that meant and felt her fingers tighten around the gun.
From this position she'd be shielded by the blast on the far side of the house, but the plastique would cook her skin right off her bones.
Being up here when it went off wasn't an option. One of these rooms must've had a smaller set of stairs that led to the first floor.
Her lips mouthed a silent prayer while she searched. Fontaine's move was coming.
She took a heavy breath and braced.
***
Jack didn't know how long they'd been down here but the thick and wet air took a hefty toll on his asthma. Each breath was harder to get than the last.
Allen's vow of silence wasn't making things easier.
Jack refused to play into the quiet taunt. He suspected Allen wanted him to give him a reason—any reason—to lash out. To make Fane's choice easier.
No thanks.
The cell door reopened with an echo and their host returned. This time he wasn't alone.
"I can see that you haven't done your job, boy. I suppose your ineptitude will help me prove a point."
Fane had a garish red robe around his shoulders and he looked unwell. His face wore extra tufts of hair, thick eyebrows and cracked lips. His features seemed sharper, more pointed. In the hallway light, Jack saw that his eyes took a yellow tint and his teeth were sliding out of his mouth one at a time. He kept his palm at his chin, catching them and the bloody runoff. Animal teeth grew from his gums, slurring his speech as he tried to remain human.
It seemed like it was part of the show. He was a showman trying to win over an audience.
"Come in, come in. Everyone, please...I wish for all of you to see this."
A cluster of people shuffled in, different shapes and sizes of men and women, a few teenagers filtered into the mix. Each of them in varying stages of undress, with many continuing to grope one another while eyes focused on Fane.
The moisture grew unbearable as the leader bumped his way through the crowd until he was face-to-face with Jack. He fished a plastic case from his pocket, flipped it open and slid a single tab of paper the size of his thumb from it. He held it overhead, tucked between two fingers.
"This little chemical is our future. For each and every one of you, it is an investment; a symbol of a future brighter than anyone could possibly imagine."
Fane stood so close that Jack smelt a mixture of sex and alcohol on his body and breath.
"We are going to see it in action tonight." To Jack, "You ready to make history?"
Jack wished he'd had the composure to say something witty. He could only shake his head and look away, hoping that Fane would somehow leave him be if he didn't look.
But Fane only played to the crowd more. "Because you are my newest acquaintances, and have shown incredible flexibility where your new lifestyle is concerned, I want to show you how I intend to build a new and better world. For too long I...we... have been nothing if not the stuff of legend. Not only do I intend to show the world we exist, I intend to brand our experience. And it starts here."
Fane flashed the paper back toward the crowd as if to remind them.
"I don't want it," Jack said, his voice buffered with cowardice.
"Why not? It will be easier for you than it was for any of them. They were taken...one-by-one...over the course of the last few months. Put on the path to greatness. They are with me now. Just as I have given the gift to them, I offer it to you. Take this and you will have more power than you could ever imagine."
Jack studied the tiny blue square, thinking of Lucy. Maybe he could help her if he was like her. Fane was likely to kill him if he didn't take it. Neither option jibed, but joining them beat dying down here.
"What does it do?" He knew full well what it did but he intended to stall for every last second.
"Please." Fane refused to play.
"But how does it work?" That was a question from the crowd.
"Trade secret, my friend. What I can say is that my people have found a way to harness the effects of a wolf's bite. Pop this patch onto your neck, or anywhere you feel comfortable, and let it go to work. It will seep through the skin, dissolving into the bloodstream in a matter of minutes. From there, it's a synthesized wolf bite. Fever takes over, breaking after a few days leaving only the mark of the wolf. I'm offering anyone access to a world beyond imagination...for the right price."
"What is the right price?"
"We'll let the market determine that. I'll say this...it's a one-way trip. We're denied the luxury of repeat business. The price will be high. Life savings high. And with that profit, we'll build a better world for ourselves. A world with unlimited opportunity and advancement for those who want it."
Fane slapped the patch against Jack's neck and held it there beneath three fingers. "Please," he told the crowd. "Let us enjoy the party. Many of your neighbors have graciously volunteered themselves as willing participants tonight. Remember that while you're feeding. Enjoy yourselves, but not at the expense of anyone's life. There will be plenty of time for that in the future."
The group shuffled out and Fane turned to Allen.
"I had hoped you would have pledged yourself to me by now. The least you can do is make sure that stays on him for the next five minutes. If he takes it off, kill him. If he takes it off and you do nothing, I'll kill you both."
Fane slammed the door behind him.
Jack's heart bruised his ribs it beat so hard. A numbing sensation dulled the feeling in his neck while he fought the urge to tear it free. Allen's intensity smoldered from the shadows. He lunged forward, swiping at Jack's neck.
He looked at the blue tab in the palm of his hand, most of the color had drained away, and dropped it to the floor in disgust.
"I will not let them turn you," he said.
"Please," Jack didn't know what else to say. Nothing left to say.
Allen's eyes narrowed. Listening to Jack speak wasn't a condition of this deal, apparently.
"Both of us have to get out of here." Jack reasoned. "Any chance of you breaking through that door?"
"Are you expecting a different answer this time?"
"If he comes back and sees that I haven’t turned, he's going to kill me. You too."
"I'm not worried about him."
Jack knew there was nothing he could say that would diffuse this ugly, hostile situation.
If I'm going to die...I'd rather he do it.
It would be quick, at least. Better the devil you know. Or knew.
"Do it, then," Jack said. He felt sick and was tired of wallowing in this misery. He was in the belly of the beast. If he got beyond that door by some miracle, what then?
"What did you say?"
"I know you heard me...with that dog's hearing of yours. I told you to do it, asshole. You think I’m going to sit here waiting to die on your terms or his? If you've got all this power...if you're such a monster, then go ahead and kill me."
"I will not send Fane the wrong message. He has put me in charge of your fate, thinking that it's my allegiance pledge. I'm not joining him. I'm waiting for Elisabeth."
Had Allen lost his mind the same time his girlfriend's was blown out?
He might've noticed Jack's confusion, smiling and looking to the ceiling. "She's here. I feel her."
"Impossible. She's dead because of me, remember? Come on...take it out on me!"
"She's alive, Jack. And don't think this changes anything. You didn't know she was immune to silver...she's alive because of that. And she wants you."
Allen took a swing, cracking Jack's jaw and dropping him to the ground. Defeated, he lay lifeless while his mouth throbbed with white fire.
Elisabeth was alive? The thought of having to face those cold blue eyes made him sick. If silver wouldn't kill her, what could?
There was no reason to thin
k about that now. He was a dead man. Why had he left Amanda? At least with her there had been a chance. Here, he was as good as dead. Nothing left to do but lay here and wait for it to arrive—in one form or another.
That was all he could do.
Then all hell broke loose.
***
Fontaine felt like a lumberjack. He was harnessed to the tallest hemlock in relation to the mansion—approximately one and a half miles away from it. The .50 caliber rest comfortably atop the tree's thickest branch, and there was a clear line of sight all the way to the front door.
There was no margin of error allowed. One inch to the left or right and these special made silver rounds would find themselves wedged in one tree or another.
Be careful. Be accurate.
Amanda's insistence on trudging back into that place sure did trouble him. There was no freakin' guarantee she would find her friend. What she would find, though, was a nest of werewolves ready to snap their jaws over her little head.
Yikes.
And he didn't really like Amanda Church all that much.
"I hope you know what you're doing," he whispered before pressing the detonator.
Fontaine lifted his eye away from the sniper scope as the perimeter of the mansion turned into a thunderous wall of dancing flame. His hemlock rumbled in protest as the explosion rocked the Greifsfield forest.
His head fell back into place, aiming right for the door.
It flung open nine seconds later.
Fontaine fired twice.
The first shot exploded the skull of a woman who looked to be in mid-transformation. Her head cracked like a piñata, soaking the man behind her in chunks of gore.
The first shot also dropped him.
He fired again and again. Two more bodies slumped onto the stone stairs and collapsed.
Above the sea of leafy hemlocks, smoke wafted into the sky.
Retribution had come to town.
***
Fane ducked for cover as two windows in the banquet room cracked and exploded. Sheets of fire licked the side of the home, threatening to invade by way of busted window frames. He felt a wave of unbearable heat against his face and turned to run.
The hall was a mass of confusion as naked bodies scrambled this way and that.
Several people lay on the floor, clasping hands over recently bitten wounds.
He stepped over them without a second thought.
The greeting room was close to the fire and would be taken first. The house would fall to the flame in no time. He turned away from it, following a crowd of partygoers bumping each other toward the mansion's rear. They stopped as the entire backyard glowed orange hot. Only way out was through the front.
A naked blonde woman spouting golden blonde fur darted past in a panicked snarl. She stepped through the front door and her torso blew apart, a wall of blood smacking Fane's face. He wiped the sting from his eyes in time to see her torso collapse onto severed legs.
Who was behind this? Surely not that lone crusader? She'd survived his trap at the motel but that didn't mean she could do all this.
Guests ignored the wet body parts littering the foyer. They bottlenecked in the doorway as an unseen sniper sent them to their final demise. Human shrieks became animal growls but it was too late for the masses.
Fane backed away and spotted Julianna amidst the chaos. She motioned for the cellar, pulling the door wide open. Several creatures in mid-transformation poured through it.
Mestipen appeared at his back, gun in hand. "You've got to get down there...we're under attack."
Julianna went first and Fane followed without argument. Behind them, Mestipen did his best to usher survivors to safety.
Fane felt the change coming back as he reached the bottom. This assault wasn't a threat to him, only his potential empire.
"Not yet," Julianna said, forcing him against the wall. Her strength surprised him. "You've got to control yourself."
"I am controlling myself, bitch! No matter what happens, we are safer in our true forms."
Several wolves darted past and Fane screamed for them to follow the torch-lined walls all the way to the mountain pass. Whoever these crusaders were, they couldn't know about that. The most important thing now was that his pack survived. Let them destroy this home and walk away with a false sense of victory. As long as his numbers stayed high, this terrorism meant nothing—a victory in the most superficial of senses.
His ears perked and he looked to the cold, dank steps.
Overhead, the sound of gunfire erupted.
***
Amanda had never seen so many werewolves in one place. She double-fisted her weapons—the smoking Glock caught a quick break in her right hand while the MP5 sprayed a round of silver bullets into the chest of an approaching monster.
Its grey fur popped into little splotches of blood as it whelped and collapsed. Yellow eyes looked up with weakness and humility before going completely cold.
The fire was at her back and getting hotter by the second. The summer-long drought helped it spread in an immediate wave, but it was the windy mountain air that sealed this mansion's fate. The power had just flickered and surged, leaving the entire place in darkness, save for the raging fire.
She moved toward the master staircase from one of the first floor wings. The main hall was littered with naked corpses from Fontaine's coverage. For a second, Amanda flirted with doing a cut and run. The exit was right there, this place was lost and countless wolves had already died.
But she halted that thought as her boots pattered through pooling blood from countless bodies. She'd have to be quick about sweeping these rooms; Jack didn't have much time left.
The door closest to her broke apart and a black wolf launched from the darkness. Amanda covered her face with the Glock to shield herself from spraying splinters.
The creature looked at her, forced itself up onto its hind legs and glared from behind fiery green eyes. An MP5 spray should've put it down, though it was too fast. It anticipated her move and leapt to one side, sprinting ahead of the gunfire.
It didn't stop until the automatic weapon clicked.
Amanda wasn't done trying to kill it. The Glock took aim and fired twice. Panic fire whizzed past the monster both times. It trotted forward, its talons clacking against the marble floor in a death charge, slashing outward as it got close; swiping at her buckshot leg.
She cried out and stepped back as the jaws snapped shut, missing her thigh by an inch. The Glock fired wildly in reflex, three shots nailing the creature in the head and dropping it to the floor in a pool of spreading blood.
She holstered the empty pistol and fed the MP5 another mag, reloading in time to take out a naked, red-haired man with fangs and paws. He slid across the floor, with bullet wounds still smoking.
Her options on the ground floor were limited. The outer rooms were thick with smoke, and the flames spread inward.
Amanda searched the unaffected rooms with as much scrutiny as she could afford. Jack was nowhere.
She turned a quick corner and skidded to a stop, boots squeaking on the cold tile. Two wolves turned, and she hip fired, nailing the larger creature in the mouth and muzzle. It backed off, covering its bleeding face with its paws. The other creature seized the moment and lunged. One bullet nicked its arm but did little to deter the advance. Two sets of talons tore into Amanda, puncturing her flesh and drawing blood.
She screamed in shock as she went down. Her left shoulder erupted into unquenchable throbs. The claws retracted with a wet phluck. The other caught her on the right forearm, leaving three nasty lacerations.
Amanda wasn’t pinned, but the MP5 was under her back. She'd fallen and landed on it. Couldn't get the machete, either. It was out of reach at her waist. Her only bet was the silver blade sheathed on her vest. Her wounded arm lifted in an attempt to distract the creature. It swatted her away with a snarl that resembled laughter. She used that time to pull the knife free and jam it deep into the creature
's back and pushing in until it was buried to the hilt.
The wolf howled, releasing a saliva rain across her face. She gagged on the rotten breath and pulled for the .45 holstered on her right thigh.
The wolf's eyes widened once it noticed the barrel of the gun.
Amanda blew its eye out the back of its head.
She was up again. The throbbing slashes on her arm hurt more than her mutilated shoulder, and the combination slowed her movement while the burning house grew hotter. Pushing past the pain wouldn't be easy as each new step delivered a steady influx of it.
Jack was nowhere, and it was time to abandon the search before they both died here. She snaked back through the rear hall, following it the way she came until it connected again with the Great Hall.
A blade sliced through the air.
Amanda's reflexes, thankfully, hadn't been dulled by her injuries. She dipped below the strange, grayish/white blade as it whooshed overhead.
A familiar figure stepped out from behind the doorway wearing a tight-lipped smile.
"You can't be alive."
The dark-haired wolf woman grinned and took another stab. Amanda lunged, swinging the MP5 upward to deflect.
She grabbed it by the barrel and yanked it with a violent tug. It knocked Amanda off her feet. She collapsed onto her twice-damaged foot and leg.
"You tried to kill me with these before," the wolf woman said and hacked the weapon strap free of her vest. When it fell to the floor, she grunted and kicked it away.
Amanda watched helplessly as it slid across the marble, disappearing into a mass of flame.
"I saw you die," she said, rolling onto her back and staggering to her feet.
The wolf watched through narrow blue eyes that glowed with amusement. "I cannot die," she said, showing no fear of the collapsing environment. Didn't wince as the rear hall gave way to fast-approaching fire. Didn't flinch at the sight of a silver-loaded gun.
Fuck her.
Amanda grabbed for the .45 again, determined to empty a mag into her chest. The wolf woman was too quick, slashing her blade down and carving a thick gash into her hand. The .45 tumbled to her feet.
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