Face the Dark (Hunters of the Dark #3)

by Dave Ferraro

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “Maybe we should…go,” Shanna suggested, taking a step closer to Quinn, and silently cursing herself for being so stupid. Of course werewolves looked just like people most of the time, so why wouldn’t the entire gallery be filled with the subjects of the very demon they were hunting? Especially if the art on display was so offensive and poorly-executed. They’d expected some werewolves protecting their master, but this many? There had to be nearly a hundred people in the room. Could they all be werewolves? As Shanna met the stares of the patrons, she decided that yes, they very well could be.

  “Ah, please don’t go yet,” a voice called from the back of the room. “The show’s just getting started.”

  Shanna swallowed hard as the crowd parted. Nowhere among the faces could Shanna discern the features of her friends. Where could they have all gone? She looked back at Quinn with a look of apology, but he was staring at the back of the room, where a man was making his way toward them across the floor.

  “It seems a couple of strays have decided to crash the party,” the man continued, his footsteps loud in the silent room.

  Shanna looked up into the man’s face and was not surprised to find solid black eyes set in his round face, coppery hair framing it, although thinly at the top. Tattoos horded in on his face from beneath his whiskers, oily and ugly, but somehow boasting of power. He had a cheerful expression on his face as he approached them in his suit, but his eyes remained hard and unnerving with their otherworldly coloring.

  “Hmph,” he looked them up and down briefly. “Hunters, I presume?”

  “That’s right,” Quinn said, holding his head high.

  “Not the ones I am seeking, however. Very disappointing. And here, I though they were saving me the trouble of my wolves collecting their scalps.”

  Shanna blinked, then met Quinn’s eyes. “So, you’re not after…either of us?”

  The man’s smile deepened. “Allow me to introduce myself.”

  “Trivillis,” Shanna said, her face tight. “We’re aware.”

  “Are you now? My, my. I guess my reputation precedes me.” He looked at them with something of interest again. “If you know about me, perhaps you know about these hunters I speak of then? Come to think of it, I haven’t heard from the wolves I’ve sent after them for awhile now. Could it be that they’ve failed?” He sent a severe look into the crowd, causing many of the spectators to look away or cringe outright. “Hmm. Not even a pack of my finest could do the job then? A pity.” Shrugging, Trivillis looked over Shanna and Quinn again. “Well, even if you aren’t the ones I seek, I can still add you to my collection, I suppose.”

  “Collection?” Shanna echoed, glancing at one of the nearby paintings nervously.

  “You really tortured the people in those paintings,” Quinn stated.

  “Of course,” Trivillis said with a chuckle. “But more than that, they are still in those paintings. With my demon blood, I can now collect the souls of the people I torture. And I weave those souls into these fine pieces of art I produce. They are much more than representations of these acts. They are the acts. These souls will forever be as I envisioned them while I made them bleed, weep and cry out in agony.” He paused. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

  “You are reprehensible,” Quinn told him through gritted teeth. “There’s no death horrifying enough for the likes of you.”

  “And if you think you have even a whisper of a prayer of harming a hair on this head, you’re fooling yourself, hunter. You’re lucky if I give you the privilege to belong to my collection.” He shot Shanna a particularly lustful look. “Your girl, however…”

  “Enough!” a voice cried out from near the door.

  Trivillis looked up, looking almost bored at the interruption. “Another hunter, is it?”

  Shanna didn’t turn to look, but she recognized Cameron’s voice. “Yeah, and I bet he’s really pissed off.”

  Waving his hand at the crowd, Trivillis scoffed. “Kill him.”

  The werewolves moved as one, shifting quickly from human to animal, clothes ripping, while cartilage and bone slipped into place with snaps of flesh and rapidly spreading manes of hair. It was like the scene before her just melted. One moment it was a roomful of people in an art gallery, the next a blur of brown and black snarling monsters. But despite their fierce appearances, none of the werewolves seemed able to lay a hand on Cameron as he used a sword to cut them down left and right. There was some confusion in the scene, and it seemed to Shanna as if the werewolves were repelled by him somehow. Was it silver or wolfsbane? She didn’t give it much thought however, as Trivillis suddenly had a hand wrapped around her wrist. “What is this?” he asked her, spittle flying from his mouth, eyes wild and mad. “The sorcery-”

  “That would probably be me.”

  Trivillis was suddenly wrenched away from Shanna, sending her slamming into the floor.

  Quinn helped her up, and she saw Amelia standing before Trivillis, whom she’d pinned to the wall with the force of her air powers, the same force that seemed to be subduing the nearby werewolves from getting any closer to them.

  “What is this?” Trivillis snarled. “A witch hunting a witch?”

  “I am no witch,” Amelia scoffed. “And you have tainted yourself with demon blood.”

  “Tainted? Hardly. It was like ascending the chain of life.”

  Amelia smiled tightly. “For a higher being, you have some funny ideas. Why are you sending werewolves after us?”

  “You have been marked for me,” Trivillis said, then laughed. “Nothing personal.”

  “Marked?”

  “For assassination. You must have some deadly enemies who were unwilling to get their own hands dirty to resort to calling upon a demon.” He cocked his head. “Hard to believe anyone would want to harm such rage-fueled children. You’re all self-destructive as is.”

  “Who hired you?” Amelia demanded, ignoring his taunts.

  Trivillis chuckled. “I am cursed myself, hunter. When someone is marked with the combination of ingredients that correspond with my own magickal signature, I must destroy them. I’m compelled to. You and yours fit that bill. I don’t know who marked you and frankly, I don’t care.”

  Amelia considered his words. “I believe you. It was your price to have that demon blood running through your veins, wasn’t it? The curse?”

  Trivillis just smiled.

  Sighing, Amelia nodded into the nearby shadows. “I free you of your obligation then.”

  Natalia suddenly stepped into the fray with a large axe in hand. With one clean sweep, she cut Trivillis’ head from the rest of his body, sending a flood of black blood spurting into the air, over the grotesque artwork and the pristine white walls. Then it was spreading over the floor as his body fell with a sickening, wet thud.

  Natalia pulled the axe free from the wall and let the head fall to the floor beside its body. Then all in the room was still.

  The wind barrier that Amelia had put up dissipated as the werewolves watched them warily. Cameron held his sword high, but had stopped swinging the moment Trivillis had been killed, as had everyone present, monster or hunter.

  “He deserved worse than a quick death,” Quinn murmured as he glowered, eyes fastened to the demon’s body, which seemed to slowly be melting into a puddle of black goo.

  “Agreed,” a nearby woman said, tattered clothes wrapped around her body. “We were enslaved by the demon, forced to do his bidding for two long years, forced to curse more to our way of life. We have no love for this creature, and we thank you for releasing his hold over us.”

  Amelia watched the woman for a moment, then nodded. “You are free. You’d better clear out before Visum et Repertum is sent in, guns blazing.”

  “Amelia,” Natalia caught her eye. “They are monsters.”

  “They seem more the victims this time around to me. If they want to walk away and buil
d a quiet life, is it really our place to stop them?”

  “Their bite can infect immediately. They could wipe out the human race in a matter of years.”

  “We only wish for peace,” the werewolf woman who’d spoken before insisted. “We will retreat back to our home in Australia and rebuild our lives in solitude, as was the case before Trivillis ever came along.”

  Natalia listened to her speech without emotion, but turned her eyes to Amelia.

  Amelia returned her gaze with a nod. “Leave. And quickly. No supernatural creatures are safe from Visum et Repertum or The Agency. Even those deserving our sympathy, it seems.”

  Natalia didn’t protest as the werewolves shifted back into their human forms and walked out of the gallery slowly, warily. They looked defeated, holding their clothes over themselves and helping each other along. It was hard not to feel some sympathy for their plight, having been forced from their homeland to carry out the whims of a man who demanded total control over them. As they walked from the room, a few stopped to sob over the remains of the half-dozen wolves that Cameron had managed to kill with his blade. But they didn’t seem to blame him. They accepted the deaths of the fallen and walked away.

  “Valor will not be pleased that seventy-two werewolves just walked away from this,” Natalia said, walking away from them.

  Amelia sniffed. “Valor needs me. My powers grant The Agency access to too much for her to turn me away over a difference of opinion.”

  Natalia paused and glanced back over her shoulder. “You grow arrogant, Amelia. Don’t overestimate your usefulness. Or your powers.”

  Amelia watched her leave, then turned to Shanna with a frown. “Arrogant? Really?”

  Shanna shrugged as Cameron walked up to her and embraced her wordlessly before pulling back and looking her over. “You’re okay?”

  “I’m okay,” she confirmed. “You were pretty brave back there.”

  Cameron scoffed. “It was nothing.”

  “Oh, it was something,” Quinn argued, clapping him on the back. “It was like they were afraid of you.” He shook his head and followed Amelia as she left the gallery.

  Shanna watched Cameron brush off Quinn’s comment before escorting her from the building as well.

  “Amelia is something else,” Jade commented in the car on the way back to Lime Bay. She turned to look back at Shanna, who stifled a yawn. “Need another Red Bull?”

  Shanna nodded. “I’m not sure how long I can keep this up. It’s really taking it’s toll on me. After the adrenaline rush from being in there, I’m just crashing.”

  Jade handed her a can. “Rachel, how about you?”

  Rachel shifted in her seat. “I think I’ll throw up if I have any more of that crap.”

  Jordan chuckled. “I was never a fan myself. We could stop for some coffee, if you want.”

  “Eh, I’ll be fine,” Rachel grumbled, leaning against the car door.

  “What was up with Cameron?” Jade asked, sending Shanna a sly look. “He was all gung-ho to save you back there. Quite a show of bravado.”

  “It was,” Shanna agreed happily. “He seemed so…fearless.”

  “He can handle a sword alright,” Jordan approved. “Although I will say that the werewolves seemed pretty sluggish in there. Not up to their usual snuff. Remember how ferocious they were when they attacked us in Lime Bay?”

  “How could I forget?” Shanna shuddered.

  “They just didn’t seem to have the heart to fight at the gallery.”

  “We were attacked on a full moon night,” Jade reminded him. “The Common Australian Lycanthrope is forced into werewolf shape on the full moon and the two nights surrounding it. The beast takes over then. Now that the full moon is behind us, the shift is less natural and they retain more higher brain functions. It’s not all frenzy.”

  “Plus they were under the control of a madman they weren’t thrilled to serve,” Shanna added.

  Jade nodded. “Exactly.”

  Shanna cocked her head. “Are all werewolves bound by the full moon like that?”

  “No,” Jade frowned. “There are dozens of lycanthrope species. The loup-garous, like Lupe, can shift at will, and the full moon has nothing to do with it. And they are one of the few lycanthrope species to retain their humanity at all times.”

  “Humanity?” Shanna repeated. “Lupe?”

  “Alright, humanity might be the wrong word. Human thought processes are intact all the time. She won’t be a slave to her beast like all other species are at one point or another. The Common Australian Lycanthrope is one of the few others where they can think like a human sometimes, but not during the full moon.”

  “What other types are there?” Shanna asked, intrigued. “Any really strange ones?”

  “The wolf-men,” Jade said, nodding. “They are wolves all the time. Smart wolves, however. They wear human flesh that looks seamlessly alive.”

  “Eww. And they act just like humans?”

  “Not at all. They can’t speak or anything, but it gets them close enough to their prey to attack.”

  “A wolf in sheep’s clothing. Huh.”

  Jordan glanced back. “Am I really going to be the first one to make a Brett joke? Rachel?”

  Shanna turned to look at Rachel and saw that the girl’s eyes were closed. Her heart sank as she leaned over and shook her. “Rachel? Rachel?!” But Rachel remained asleep no matter how hard Shanna shook her, a trickle of sand slipping from her fluttering eyelids.