Fanghunters (Book 4): The Claw Order

by Leo Romero

  With the cats’ eyes on her like spotlights, she reached out for the door handle. She gripped it, her heart starting to beat harder. A cat hissed, just as she pulled the handle down. She paused, licked her lips, and pushed the door open.

  Her wide eyes took in everything beyond, flicking left, right, up, down. It was a chamber, housing a king-sized four poster bed with curtains drawn and not much else. A dusty chandelier illuminated the place, revealing everything inside. Her eyes flicked toward what was in the middle of the room.

  It was the boys.

  They were both tied to rocking chairs, their mouths gagged. She rolled her eyes. Yeah, just like I thought, the idiots got themselves caught. Figures.

  They rocked to and fro in frantic arcs, both of them shaking their heads. Dom’s two eyes and Faisal’s one eye were wide and alert. They were both trying to say something, but their gags muted their words to mere muffles. Whatever they were trying to tell her, it was something urgent.

  She frowned. “What?” she asked them both in a hoarse whisper. “I can’t—”

  Their noises grew louder, their heads shaking with more vehemence.

  “I can’t understand,” Trixie told them. “Hold on.” She darted over to them both; their heads followed her around, still trying to speak to her.

  Trixie reached down and grabbed Dom’s gag. She pulled it down. “What happened?”

  Dom huffed. “I was trying to tell you that it’s a trap!”

  Faisal’s head dropped in disappointment. Trixie’s eyes widened. A noise behind her made her spin. A bunch of bodies filled the doorway. Masked guards armed with machetes.

  Dom moved his head to the side so he could peek past Trixie. “Nice work, Trix!”

  In the next instant, the chamber was swarming with guards. Cats scurried in alongside them. They galloped toward her like cheetahs, yowling. One leaped her way. Trixie nimbly swerved to the side. Its claws cut through the air, missing its target. It landed right on Dom’s lap.

  Dom’s bulging eyes fell on it. He cringed back. “Argh! Get it off me!”

  The cat jumped off and hid under Dom’s rocking chair.

  A guard stormed over to Trixie, waving his blade on the air. Trixie dodged and swerved, her eyes fixed on the machete. The guard took one swing too many; his momentum lunged him forward, leaving him open. Trixie slammed both her fists down on his back, sending him to the floor. Another cat leaped her way. This one was too quick. It landed on her upper arm and shoulder. Its claws sunk into flesh. White-hot pain tore through Trixie. She screamed in agony, just as the claws dug deeper. The cat opened up its cavernous mouth and took a bite of her shoulder. Its ivory-like fangs punctured flesh. Searing agony followed. Trixie spun away, throwing up an instinctive hand. She grabbed a handful of fur and yanked. The cat held on for its life. Trixie pulled harder and the pain swelled. Her teeth clenched against it. With a sharp screech, she tore the cat from out of her. Claws drew down flesh as they were separated. Trixie held the animal on the air, blood staining the white fur around its mouth, its claws still fully extended on the air. Its eyes burned with ire.

  “Look out, Trix!” Dom yelled.

  A guard was storming her way. Trixie spun and threw the cat in his direction. The guard caught the cat full in the face. The cat yowled and clung to the first thing it found. Its claws sunk into the guard’s cheeks; it hung from his face like a giant fuzzy beard. The guard released a hellish scream. He staggered through the room like a zombie, the cat tearing down the fabric of his mask and through the flesh of his cheeks beneath. Trixie stepped aside and let him pass by, his threat alleviated.

  But, it was just the beginning. More guards came filing in, waving their blades around. Trixie rocked on her heels, eyeing all the bodies now ahead of her. Behind her, Faisal mumbled something from behind his gag. Whatever he was trying to say, Trixie didn’t have time to interpret. A jihadi lunged toward her, machete raised high. He brought it down through the air like an ax. Trixie hopped back; the blade sliced air, the momentum causing the jihadi to stagger forward. Trixie dashed up to him. She slammed her palms down on his back and used him as a platform to summersault toward the throng of bodies. With a yelp, she extended her legs, making sure to smash her heels into the chest of a guard standing idly ahead of her. The guy staggered back under the impact, hitting his comrades, sending them back the way they came. Some of them sprawled, their arms waving. Trixie landed on her ass with a painful jolt that shot up her spine. She grimaced.

  Now closer to the ground, the cats saw her as equal prey. Three dashed through the forest of guards’ legs, their tongues popping from their mouths. Trixie saw them at the last moment. Their holographic eyes burned with desire. Trixie’s eyes flicked from one to the other, to the other. A cat swept to her right and leaped. It landed on her hand splayed on the floor. Her instincts screamed; she tried to whip her hand away, but was too late. The cat pinned it down, digging its claws into the back of her hand just enough to hurt. Trixie tried to pull her hand away, and the claws dug in deeper. She clenched her teeth against the pain, her face reaching for the ceiling. Raking pain tore up her other arm. Her head snapped that way. Another cat was holding down her other hand with its paws while its fangs sunk into the webbing between her thumb and index finger. The pain was real. Vivid and real.

  She tried to yank both hands away, but the cats both sunk their claws and fangs in deeper, holding her in place. Her neck lolled back. She wanted to scream, but didn’t want to give any of the creatures around her—human, cat, and vamp—the satisfaction. She grinded her teeth hard, tears oozing out between her eyelids.

  A twisted yowl made her head whip back down. The final cat ahead of her raced up between her spread legs and leaped gracefully through the air. It landed on her chest with a soft thwump!

  Trixie twitched with a gasp, her wet eyes locked on that black-furred feline. It sat up, dominating her, staring at her with its merciless eyes. Trixie’s breathing went shallow; her heart beat slow and steady. She watched that cat with distrust. It could do anything, at any moment. Trixie wanted to just swat it off, but she was rooted, and the cat on her chest had her right where it wanted her.

  A hot purr erupted from the cat; its tail wagged on the air. It was enjoying the torment it was inflicting. It extended its claws into her chest just enough to threaten to pierce through her clothes and skin. It kept its laser-like stare on her as it pushed a little harder. Trixie knew it was warning her. Try to move, and in go the claws. And then I start tearing. The other two cats held their positions as if awaiting instruction.

  Trixie didn’t dare move.

  Beyond the cat’s evil glare, the guards all gathered themselves, more of them entering the room. There was no use; they were trapped. All three of them.

  A cackle erupted from somewhere. Trixie flicked her eyes to the right. The curtain around the four poster bed flew open. Beyond it was a grinning figure on the bed, on her knees, her fangs gleaming. She stared at the scene ahead of her in glee.

  “So, you’re Trixie, I take it,” the vampire rasped.

  Trixie’s top lip curled up. The vampire glared at her with a contemptuous grin.

  The vampire licked her lips. She stared at the whole scene. “You came here for my father, didn’t you? Who sent you? Clement? When will that old fool realize he’ll never slay us?” Her grin melted into a sneer of hate.

  Trixie flicked her eyes from the vampire on the bed back to the cat on her chest. The pressure of its claws pinching her chest remaining as threatening as anything she’d ever experienced. Its cold, primitive, psychotic eyes remained on her. They gleamed with a base instinct, a stunning lack of empathy. It would tear her to ribbons and not feel even a bit of remorse.

  Trixie’s top lip curled up. She was trapped and she knew it. And she hated it.

  More vampires entered the room. Three more. The creature on the bed’s brothers. Rah’s children, all grown up and in control of the Claw Order. Their faces were brimming with a smugness that ma
de Trixie want to puke. They barked orders in Arabic here and there and the guards spread out behind Trixie toward Dom and Faisal.

  One of them placed his hands on his hips. He glared down at Trixie and cackled. The noise was like rusty scalpels in Trixie’s mind.

  PART FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Eddie stared through the window of Rufus’ room with a slack jaw. Rufus was standing by his bed, performing karate moves. He was kicking, punching, chopping, swiping the air as if he was in the middle of a giant brawl. He brought his leg clean up above his head and smashed it down like a sledgehammer with perfect precision, barely a jot of pain registering on his face. He spun in circles, his arms outstretched, he leaped in the air, throwing himself around like a football. It was as if he’d never been shot in the first place and had decided to just use the med unit as his personal gym.

  Eddie frowned. He was no medic, but he was pretty confident that if he’d taken four slugs to the chest barely a week ago he’d have some kind of aftereffect from the wounds (maybe with a damaged lung). Aching joints, chest pain, that kind of thing. Rufus on the other hand was jumping around the place like a Shaolin monk.

  Without warning, Rufus jumped forward on his hands into a handstand. He began pacing around the room on his hands, a big grin on his face. Eddie watched him, agape; the guy was monkeying around his hospital room like it was the schoolyard. It was bizarre.

  Nurse Rhonda Jones came by, file in hand. Just as she went to open the door to Rufus’ room, she spotted Eddie staring at the performing monkey in the hospital room.

  “Hey, Rhonda.”

  Rhonda stopped and grinned. Her big brown eyes flashed at him. “Hi, Eddie.”

  Eddie pointed at the window. “It’s great to see Rufus doing so well, huh?”

  Rhonda’s chest loosened. “Isn’t it just?” she replied with a beaming smile.

  Eddie stepped toward her. “It’s just such an amazing recovery. I realize seventeen-year-olds heal faster than seventy-year-olds, but if I took four bullets to the chest, I’d expect to be dead, never mind doing handstands a week after. It’s miraculous.” He shook his head. “I’m just... lost for words.”

  “And that’s because it was a miracle, Eddie,” Rhonda said, her face turning stern. “Sometimes miraculous things happen in life.”

  “That’s very... scientific.”

  “It is what it is. Sometimes bizarre, crazy things happen that seem to fly in the face of reason. But they are what they are.”

  “Well, was there no permanent damage? No injuries sustained from the bullets?”

  Rhonda shrugged. “He’s got a clean bill of health. He’ll be discharged in the following days and that’s that. He got lucky, Eddie. Very, very lucky.”

  Eddie let out a quick sigh. “I just find it fascinating. Can I... er, get a look at his file?” He held out a hand as he spoke.

  Rhonda pulled the file into her chest and swiveled to the side. “Sorry, Eddie. But, we’ve got to respect patient confidentiality. Even for close friends of Vincent.”

  Eddie backed down. “Okay, I understand.”

  “Look. I know you and your brother are close to Vincent and so you’re close to Rufus, but I’ve got a job to do. And this file is only for the eyes of the doctors assigned to Rufus’ recovery.”

  Eddie bowed his head in understanding. “I’m sorry I asked, that was rude of me.”

  Rhonda let out a sigh. “It’s okay, Eddie. Hey, why don’t you go and say hi to him. He’d probably like that.”

  Eddie nodded. “Yeah, maybe I’ll do that.”

  Eddie waited for Rhonda to finish with Rufus before he went in there. She left the room, taking that file with her. Eddie tongued his bottom lip; he was itching to get a look in that file. Something wasn’t right here, he could feel it in his bones.

  He turned his attention back to Rufus. He was now lying on his bed, munching on an apple, listening to music on his smartphone, his earphones plugged in. Eddie took a deep breath, put on a smile, and entered the room. Rufus noticed him enter. He stopped chewing, turning his head to see who it was.

  Eddie waved at him. “Hey, buddy.”

  Rufus pulled out his earphones, grinned, and waved back.

  Eddie closed the door behind him and grabbed a chair. He took it next to the bed and sat down. He sighed. “You’re looking good, my friend.”

  Rufus gave him a solemn nod and took a bite of apple.

  Eddie held his hands out to the sides. “So, what’s going on? Are you in pain?”

  Rufus thought about the question for a moment or two before shaking his head.

  “No? But, you took three bullets to the chest, bro!”

  Rufus shot up four fingers.

  Eddie showed Rufus his palms. “Okay, okay. Four.”

  Rufus nodded. He put down his apple and pulled apart his gown to reveal his chest. There wasn’t a scratch on him, his chest was smooth and pale.

  Eddie looked across his chest with a frown. “Where... Where are the scars?”

  He met Rufus’ stare. Rufus was grinning. He shrugged and shook his head.

  Eddie looked back at his chest. How was it possible to heal so quickly? And to not leave a scratch?

  Eddie shook his head. “Amazing.”

  Rufus gave Eddie a nod and a shrug as if to say, ‘it’s just the way it is. So just accept it’.

  Eddie rubbed his chin. Something wasn’t right here and he knew it. Whether Rufus knew it or not was another thing. He just wasn’t comfortable knowing that the impossible was trying to be sold to him as reality. Yes, with the life they all had now, all types of weird crap was real, but this, this was too much. Rufus should be dead. Okay, he wasn’t and he could just about accept him surviving a hail of bullets to the chest by some form of miracle—for want of a better word. But his credulity was stretched to breaking point when not only did he survive the bullets, but he fully recovered in a matter of days. There was something seriously up with that. And the way Rhonda had just fobbed it off as a miracle just added to the surrealism.

  He sat back in his chair, his gaze fixed on the guy in the bed. Rufus just stared back at him with sheepish eyes.

  Eddie went to speak when the door clicked open and a familiar voice said, “Ah, Eddie!”

  Eddie whipped his head around to meet Vincent’s beaming face. Dangling by his side was a rain-soaked umbrella dripping a trail of water wherever he went.

  “Hey, Vincent,” Eddie said with a small wave.

  Vincent shook the rainwater off his umbrella. “Still cats and dogs out there!” he said as he went and stood next to Eddie’s chair; he placed a hand on his shoulder as he stared down at Rufus, pride stamped all over his face. “And how are we today, Rufus?”

  Rufus gave him a thumb up.

  Vincent chuckled. “Good, good.”

  “Amazing isn’t it?’ Eddie stated.

  “The rain?” retorted Vincent. “No, it’s bloody annoying!” He shook his umbrella, sending rainwater everywhere.

  Eddie rolled his eyes. “I meant Rufus’ recovery.”

  “Not if you believe.”

  “Believe in what?”

  “Miracles, young man.”

  Eddie turned his head up, about to counter Vincent’s ‘miracles’ baloney when he spotted a couple of beefy security guys through the room’s window, watching the corridor like henchmen. Eddie realized they must be escorting Vincent. Eddie frowned. Vincent was acting a bit like Don Corleone with the goon entourage. Were things getting bad?

  He turned his head back the way it came. “Yeah, but still. To recover so quick is something. The drugs we use here must be on another level.”

  “Well, we have given Rufus only the very best. He’s an important asset to Sun Enterprise.”

  “I’d say so. Someone with healing powers that would make Wolverine jealous should be in the frickin’ army!”

  “Wolver-what?” asked Vincent, his face scrunched up into a series of crisscrossing lines.

 
Eddie shook his head. “Nothing. Just a... nerd thing.”

  Someone began knocking on the window. All three of them faced the urgent sound. A lab guy that Eddie was unfamiliar with was being held back by one of the security guards. He was remonstrating with them, pointing and gesticulating toward the room. The guards were refusing to entertain him. He stared through the glass at them all, his eyes almost popping out of his skull.

  “Mr. Beauchamp! Mr. Beauchamp!” came his muffled voice through the glass. He managed to get a couple of thumps on the window as well.

  Vincent huffed. “Linus!” he said with a shake of his head. “Such a nuisance.” He went and pulled the door open. “What is it, Linus?”

  “Sir, this guy wants to speak with you,” one of the guard’s stated while the other held Linus back.

  Vincent closed his eyes. “It’s Linus. He’s okay.”

  Both guards stood back, allowing Linus passage to Vincent. Linus straightened his lab coat. “Mr. Beauchamp!” he said in an irritated voice, giving the guards daggers from behind his glasses. “I’ve been trying to get hold of you.”

  “Really?” Vincent said in an exasperated voice. “My phone’s switched off. What is it?”

  Linus cleared his throat. He leaned in close to Vincent. “It’s about Project 329, sir.”

  Vincent wracked his brain. “Project 329? Project 329, Project 329, Project 329,” he repeated, tapping his chin.

  Linus leaned in closer. “Project Sun Beam,” he said in a low voice out of the corner of his mouth.

  Vincent’s eyes lit up. “Oh yes! What about it?”

  Linus took a deep breath as if to control a burst of excitement. “We’ve had a major breakthrough, sir. You’ve gotta come and see this!”