Werewolves of Shade (Part One) (Beautiful Immortals Series Book 1)

by Tim O'Rourke

  “Why not?” I whispered, shoving past him and heading toward the door. “My mother and father did.”

  I felt his hand grip my arm, stopping me from taking another step. “What’s done is done,” he said, turning me to face him.

  “It’s not done,” I said with defiance. “You’ve known for how long I’ve wanted something to investigate. You know how much I’ve wanted to go out into the world and find a story of my own to write about. But you’ve kept me trapped here. You’ve made me your prisoner.”

  “Prisoner?” my uncle said, eyes widening. That look of hurt I could see was even more evident now. “I’ve kept you safe.”

  “Safe from what?” I shot back, shaking my arm free of his grip. “You’ve never given me the chance to find out. If you’d let me go, I could’ve gone and found out what had happened to my parents. I could’ve found them.” Then turning, I headed out the door and into the moonlit yard. The wind had picked up and the collar of the denim shirt I wore flapped about my neck.

  “Where are you going?” Uncle Sidney called after me as I marched away.

  “To find some answers!” I shouted back over my shoulder.

  “Mila!” I heard my uncle call one last time as I made my way from his little house on the edge of town.

  Chapter Five

  The streets that cut across the town of Maze were dark and desolate. The electric was out again, and as I passed through the narrow, broken down streets, I could see the distant glow of the night-watchmen’s lanterns as they patrolled the town. I knew that even at the age of nineteen I shouldn’t be out at night alone. The streets had become unsafe. Both Flint and my uncle had told me that. Most people had very little money, and life was hard for many. What they couldn’t afford to buy, they stole or robbed from others. The houses in which people lived were those left behind by the humans who had died in the war between the werewolves and vampires. People had come back once the beautiful immortals had retreated. But what they had left behind was far from beautiful. They had left a nightmarish world of destruction. And as I walked the never-ending maze of winding streets, I could see that by the smashed windows, graffiti-covered walls, cracked pavements, and mountainous piles of rubble and masonry, that the humans had done very little to move on. It was like we had become trapped in the mess and destruction left behind by the werewolves and the vampires. It was like they had used our world as their battlefield. And now that their battle was over, we were left with what little remained.

  As I wandered aimlessly through the narrow streets, the crescent moon became masked by a thick bank of dark cloud and it began to rain. Wrapping my arms about me, I kept close to the dilapidated buildings that I passed, in the vain hope that they would offer me some shelter from the rain. I watched water swell in the littered gutters, and soon the cracked tarmac was like a small flowing river. Water sloshed about my boots, and with my hair, shirt, and jeans clinging wetly to me, I found shelter in the doorway of a disused shop. Not knowing where I was heading or even what to do next, I watched the rain fall so hard that it bounced up off the pavement like bullets ricocheting up into the night. In the distance, I could hear the far-off cry of the night-watchmen as they patrolled the streets. I wondered if Flint was one of them. Was he on patrol tonight? Perhaps I should find him? No. I had come to rely on others too much. I needed to look after myself for once. Christ, I was nineteen. I could make my own decisions. Just like I had chosen to take Flint into my bed. But had that really been a choice? He was the only half decent guy in the town close to my age. And besides, we had grown up together, played in the rundown streets of Maze as children. I had first met him at the age of ten. He had crept up behind me and yanked on my pigtails. I had hated him back then, but not for long. We soon became friends, making hideouts and dens amongst the mountainous piles of brick and masonry. There were other children, too, but so often it was just me and Flint. And as we grew older and into our late teens, we would find any excuse to sneak away and be alone together. And as we grew older, we became tired of building secret camps. There became more interesting and exciting things to explore, and that included each other. I wasn’t in love with Flint, and he wasn’t in love with me. If he was, he had never told me. I don’t think it was love that either of us was looking for. It was fun. Life in Maze could be hard, dull, and boring. When I wasn’t helping my uncle to produce then sell his newspaper, what else was there to do? There were no schools, the disused apartment blocks and crumbled down houses had been our playgrounds as children. I’d never been taken on holiday – where was there to go?! So I think Flint and I had found something in each other we hadn’t been able to find anyplace else in the town of Maze. We had found some excitement. Wasn’t that what all young people craved? Did we ever stop craving that in our lives? But perhaps we had found something else, too. Perhaps we had each found someone to share our hopes and dreams with. From the age of sixteen, as we’d lie in each other’s arms in my bed while my uncle was away, we had talked for hours about the dreams we both had. Flint’s idea of a dream was to become a night-watchman. That hadn’t seemed much of a dream to me. Who would want to walk the streets at night, carrying a lantern and seeking out those that wished to rob and steal? But Flint, I guessed, was an idealist. He believed that by becoming a night-watchman, he could help bring peace to our town – perhaps to bring peace to the whole of England. It was a nice ideal to aim for. He was like my uncle in that way. Both of them hoped for a better future. Perhaps they both hoped too much. My dreams weren’t as noble as Flint’s. All I had ever wanted to do was find out what had really happened to my parents. To find them wouldn’t bring peace to Maze, but it would give me peace. But there was another dream. A dream that I kept secret. It was a dream I’d kept locked inside since the night my uncle had placed his finger against my lips and told me to hush as I’d started to speak of that young woman who some people said had come and turned the werewolves and vampires to stone. Since that night I’d had a seething desire deep in my heart to find out more about this woman. And if she really had existed, I wanted to find that statue my father had spoken of.

  A sudden noise came from behind me. I spun around, raindrops flying from the ends of my long, wet hair. I peered into the darkness of the doorway. The dark stretched way back into the derelict shop. The sound came again. A shifting sound, like someone was coming slowly out of the darkness toward me.

  “Who’s there?” I snapped, trying to sound strong, even though my heart had started to race.

  The sound came again. Closer. But it had changed somehow. It was now more of a scratching sound – like claws being scraped over stone.

  With my heart now in my throat, I took a step backwards out of the door and back into the driving rain. With my arms pin-wheeling on either side of me, I tripped backwards over the cracked edge of the kerb and cried out as I fell into the rain-swollen gutter. But it wasn’t just the fall that had caused me to scream, but the sight of the two yellow eyes staring back out at me from the darkened doorway. I scrambled backwards, away from the howling creature that leapt from the dark toward me.

  Chapter Six

  What looked like a giant hound lunged from the doorway. Thick lengths of drool swung from its ferocious jaws. Its body was a rippling mass of filthy matted fur. The creature’s eyes shone like bright nuggets of gold. The sound of its roar was deafening as I scrambled backwards, another scream trapped in the back of my throat. Its vicious-looking claws scraped through the air just inches from my face.

  “Get back!” I heard someone shout.

  I looked up, hoping that someone – one of the night-watchmen – had come to my rescue and was now trying to drive away the beast that had lunged at me. But there were no night-watchmen. The voice belonged to a trampish-looking man who had the beast tethered to a clanking chain. He yanked sharply on it, dragging the giant dog with its snarling jaws away from me.

  “Shut up!” the man screeched at the beast, pulling hard on the chain again. The hound reared up on its
powerful hind legs and clawed at the night as it released a series of throaty howls.

  “Get that thing away from me!” I yelled at the man who was trying to restrain the beast. I dragged myself backwards over the puddled street.

  The man got the dog under control, but instead of stepping away, he came toward me, reaching out with one scab-infested hand and gripped my arm. His fingernails sunk into my flesh like a set of knives and I cried out.

  “Get the fuck off me!” I screamed, thrashing out with my legs and free hand.

  “Do you want me to set the dog on you?” the man breathed just inches from my face. His breath was hot and stale. It stank like meat that had gone bad. With his wrinkled face so close to mine, I couldn’t help but notice the rows of smashed and broken teeth protruding from a set of ulcer-infested gums.

  I recoiled away from him. “Leave me alone!” I screamed again.

  “I think the dog likes you,” he chuckled into my ear. “I like you.” Then, as if to instil in me that his threat to set his dog on me was very real, he rattled the chain. At once the creature began to snarl and howl again.

  As my heart sank and my flesh prickled with terror, I realised I was in trouble. Even if I could manage to fight my way free of the man’s hold he would only set his dog on me. I might be able to outrun the man, but not the dog.

  “What do you want with me?” I asked, voice thick with fear.

  “Some fun,” the man grinned, licking his cracked lips with a bloated tongue.

  Without saying another word, he dragged me back toward the doorway, where only moments ago I had been sheltering from the rain.

  “Please, just let me go, I won’t tell anyone,” I tried to reason with him, digging my boots against the kerb. The giant dog snapped at my heels at once, and I stumbled over the kerb with fright.

  Deaf to my pleas, the man dragged me into the darkened doorway. There was a small passage that led into what once must have been the rear of the shop. Darkness surrounded me like a thick blanket, and I could feel the matted fur of the dog brushing up against me. The creature’s breathing was loud and booming. I could hear its razor-like claws clacking over the floor of the passageway. I knew that once the man had me lost deep in the heart of the derelict shop, I would never come out again. This is what both my uncle and Flint had warned me about. Both had said that the town of Maze was full of dangers after dark.

  With their warnings ringing in my ears, the man forced me into a small room. A lantern hung from the wall. It did little to light the room, but I could see enough. Mouldy wallpaper hung from the walls like strips of dead flesh, revealing the grey brick beneath. The room stank of stale mildew and I looked down to see old cans of half-eaten food. Some of the food had run free of the rusty-looking cans and it seemed to move as if alive. As I strained to see in the darkness, I recoiled when I realised that the food hadn’t come alive at all, but was infested with a sea of maggots. It was then I saw a mattress on the floor, pushed against the far wall. The man dragged me toward it, the dog panting and yapping at my feet.

  As we drew close to the mattress I could see that it was covered in black circular stains. Was it dried blood I could see? How many other people had this man brought to this place? If so, where were they now? Fearing that I would never step from this place alive, I made one last attempt to break free. Even if the dog did catch me, I’d rather be mauled to death by it than the revolting man.

  Stomping down with one of my feet, I drove the heel of my boot into the man’s shin. He let go of me momentarily.

  “You little bitch!” he screeched in pain, grabbing for me again as I darted back toward the darkened passageway.

  With his gnarled fingers raking down the length of my back, I stumbled into the darkness. Hearing its master’s cry of pain, the dog roared. The sound was so loud and booming that the walls of the passageway seemed to tremble all around me. I hadn’t taken more than two or three steps when I felt the creature’s jaws sink into the hem of my jeans. It tugged me backwards so violently that I dropped, landing flat on my face. I cried out as I felt blood gush into my mouth. As if being drawn by the scent of my fresh blood, the hound began to bark and snarl with excitement.

  “Please let me go!” I cried out, desperately trying to pull myself forward and away from the beast up the passageway.

  “Get back!” I heard the man rant at his dog again. Then his fingers were wrapping themselves securely around my ankles as he dragged me face down back into the room. I glanced up to see the passageway and my chance of escape sliding away from me. With the dog watching me, I sunk my fingernails into the dirt-ridden floor. I was dragged backwards by the man and toward the mattress. Splinters of wood pierced the soft flesh beneath my nails. I left ten jagged trails of blood behind me.

  The man grunted as he yanked me by the legs onto the mattress. In one quick and powerful movement, he flipped me over onto my back. With my eyes bulging in their sockets with fear, I stared up at the bedraggled-looking man as he stood over me.

  “I like a fighter,” he leered down at me. “Gets me all excited-like.”

  I watched him fumble with the knotted piece of string that kept his shabby trousers fixed about his waist. With his other free hand he pulled the holey jumper he was wearing from over his head. His body shone white in the dim glow of the lantern fixed to the wall. His skin was covered in scars and weeping sores. He was so thin that I could count every one of his ribs. He worked the knot in his makeshift belt free.

  “Please…” I whispered.

  But before I’d had the chance to beg any more for my life, there was another voice in the room.

  “Leave the girl alone,” the voice said.

  I glanced through the man’s legs to see a hooded figure standing in the doorway that led into the passageway. Then the light in the lantern went out, casting the room into utter darkness. The giant dog began to howl.

  Chapter Seven

  Cowering on the filthy mattress in the corner of the room, I listened to what I could only describe as complete mayhem – chaos. I could hear the giant dog begin to wail. They were howls of anger at first, then fear, finally death. Placing my hands over my ears, I could still hear the gut-wrenching sounds of the creature whimpering then falling silent. These noises were joined by a chorus of loud thumps and crashes, as if a violent commotion was taking place in the darkness that I couldn’t bear witness to. And I was glad I was blind to what was unfolding in the darkness, as the man who had wanted to hurt me began to scream.

  His screeches were ear-splitting and I pressed my hands flat over my ears. But still I could hear what sounded like flesh being stripped from bone. This was followed by something close to the heavy sound of falling rain. But it couldn’t be rain, I was inside. And in the darkness my mind conjured up hideous images of wet lumps of that man’s flesh spattering against the walls of the room as it was ripped from his emaciated body. Even with my hands pressed to the sides of my head, I couldn’t help but hear the man screaming as if gargling on a throat full of blood.

  I had no idea who the hooded man in the doorway had been, but I knew enough to know that he had somehow killed the giant hound and was now killing its keeper, too. Would the man turn on me next? But he had told the disgusting man to leave me alone, I reminded myself, as I began to feel my way off the mattress in the darkness. But had he really wanted to save me, or take me as his own? Was he as bad as the man with the dog? From the sounds of the man screaming for his life, I feared that my would-be saviour was perhaps even worse.

  As the sounds of that vile man taking his last few dying breaths rattled all about me, I crawled on my hands and knees in the direction of the passageway. I kept close to the wall, brushing my hand against it so as to keep my balance and to guide me away from the danger and out of the disused shop. My fingers brushed over something wet and warm that was sliding down the wall. I yanked my hand away, ramming my free hand into my mouth to stop myself from shrieking with disgust and fright. I didn’t want to give
my whereabouts away to the hooded man. I feared that I might be next on his killing spree shopping list.

  With my fingers now feeling sticky with whatever it was they had come in contact with, I crept in the direction of where I believed my escape to be. I had only taken two more small, tentative steps when the man fell silent, giving up his fight with the hooded man. Was I next? With my heart thumping, I reached blindly forward with both hands and staggered forward. But my hands didn’t brush against the wall I had been using as my guide in the darkness, but something soft. This time it didn’t feel hot and wet, but coarse, like woven cloth. Snapping my hands way, I stepped backwards. But I was stopped from going very far as a hand gripped my wrist in the dark.

  I let out a gasp.

  “You have nothing to fear,” a voice whispered.

  Before I’d had a chance to say anything, the lantern was re-lit and it was swinging like a blazing pendulum before me. The hooded figure held the lamp in his fist. I squinted in the sudden glow of light, turning my head away, and at once I wished I’d stayed staring at the light. Streaks of blood and flesh ran in rivers down the cracked walls. But it wasn’t just blood I could see running down the walls, but lumps of black fur and flesh. I glanced down at the wooden floorboards and could see blood pooled about my feet. There was something else, too, what looked like an upturned crab. But as my eyes grew accustomed to the light, I could see that it wasn’t a crab at all, but a severed human hand.

  “What the fuck?” I gasped, stumbling back toward the mattress. “You cut off his hand?”

  “He would have hurt you with that hand,” the hooded figure spoke, pulling me back toward him.