by Gaja J. Kos
If it weren't for that one stray, the WVs would have been caught by surprise. The massive chocolate brown creature howled when the four werewolves fell into his line of sight as they chose to leave their cover to try and creep behind the group that was headed into their cavernous retreat set only a short distance away. The time pressure forced the weres to move faster if they wanted to catch the WVs outside their lair, and that took its toll on their stealth factor.
Zarja crossed the distance and fell on the demon almost instantaneously, his howl still vibrating in his throat as she sank her teeth into the flesh of his neck, tendons violently ripping under the pressure of her bite. But she had been too late. Tim, Mark, and Evelin growled at the mass of creatures that had begun to rush at them with that frightening speed only supernatural beings could possess. They spread farther apart, holding their ground while leaving a spot on the edge of their line for Zarja to fill. She joined them immediately after she felt the mock version of life leave the flesh she held between her teeth, the vile taste of the WV's blood still thick in her mouth.
Evelin took a step towards the approaching werewolf vetalas and saw the hint of hesitation in their eyes that had been brought on by her move. She flashed them her full set of canine teeth, deepening their surprise even further. Self-assured dickheads, she thought and could swear she heard the echo of Jens's laugh somewhere in the background. Her claws dug into the hard soil below her, her whole body locked in a crouch that would result in the one thing that filled the extent of her mind: she had every intention of tearing those massive frames apart, inflicting as much pain as possible.
Scanning their number, there must have been about forty werewolf vetalas running at them, the unaccounted for Whites among them. As Evelin surveyed the group and inhaled the mixture of odors coming from the bodies, she realized there was a pattern by which the werewolves were chosen. Some were fighters—their movements, the way they were built, spoke plainly of how they weren't anything less but well versed in battle, and the others...
She locked on that one familiar smell; she thought she wouldn't be able to recognize it after so many years, but the living memory of it burned at her nostrils.
The others, the non-fighters were those who had been corrupt by nature, those without a moral compass. And approaching her was the wolf form of the bastard who had taken her sister.
Rose knew they were gaining ground on the creature. The boulders made it impossible to see far ahead, but the wild waves of power inside her spoke of the undeniable proximity. There was only a short stretch of land left before they would hit the clearing, and that was their last chance to prevent the creature from reaching the battle, from reaching their pack.
She released that switch that allowed her power to pour across her skin. Golden light poured over her, but kept close to the surface. The display attracted a quick glance from both Jens and Jürgen, but the two werewolves quickly reverted to studying the surroundings, not allowing themselves any slip-ups. They had felt what happened with the other group, and it was warning enough not to leave any room for a mistake like that to occur again.
They wove around another set of boulders, expecting a clearer shot at the being, but the rocky maze relentlessly continued. Rose groaned under her breath, releasing a vine of power outwards. It traveled faster than they could, swiveling through the labyrinthine nature had constructed and found its mark.
The being was unprepared, and that gave Rose just the small advantage she needed to wrap her energy around the large body, cutting it off in mid-motion. The creature tried to fight the golden chain, but the surprise of being caught made him stumble to the ground, gifting the three werewolves the time to cover the remaining distance in a sprint.
Rose felt the bond she had placed around the being snap almost simultaneously as they veered around the final boulder, their bodies tense with the anticipation of combat.
The dark form waited for them at the very edge of the clearing, its two feet spread wide apart in a position that offered as much balance as possible. The wolfish characteristics were even more visible now than they were in that werewolf's memory. The twins growled at the unnatural presence of the wolf-man, but his appearance couldn't move Rose.
Her claws ached with a killing instinct that welled up inside her, and with a cold smile on her face, she launched directly at Psoglav's second-in-command.
Chapter 39
The wolf-man recovered fast, too fast for Rose to sink her claws into the dark brown color of his fur and flesh. The barest of scratches glimmered with a bright hue of freshly drawn blood, but even from her quick glance, she knew it was nothing more than a shallow cut. The wolf-man snarled at her, his human body set in a half-crouched position, the tension in his tendons screaming of just how prepared he was to launch himself at her. He was taller than her, and no matter how unnaturally strong she was, going face-to-face with another supernatural being who possessed such height, and especially combined with the heavy muscular build of his body, put her at a worrisome disadvantage.
The wolf-man sprang towards her and would have brought her down if it weren't for Jens's side attack. The werewolf rammed his whole body into the creature, cutting him off in mid-leap and effectively bringing him down to the ground. They both rolled away farther towards the center of the clearing in a blur of claws and teeth.
Jürgen threw himself at the wolf-man's head, preventing him from biting down into Jens's neck while the latter fought off the creature's claws and simultaneously tried to tear into the tender flesh of his stomach.
The twins' attack gave Rose the opportunity to draw out her knives. She stalked towards the pile of werewolves as discreetly as she could and plunged the blades into the wolf-man's hind legs, pinning them to the ground. She knew the knives wouldn't hold him for long, but they could buy her and the twins some time to gain the upper hand.
A menacing howl escaped from the creature's throat, and the air was suddenly soaked with that particular density only an aura of power could conjure. The twins fell off the wolf-man, gasping for breath. There were no visible traces of energy in the air, not like the vines Rose could call up, but she could sense what the wolf-man was doing nonetheless—he intended to choke the two werewolves to death.
Her power shielded her from his attack. The hound of Mračaj wasn't using enough strength to pierce through her golden layer of protection, but the twins weren't as lucky. The bond of The Dark Ones didn't have the means to prevent a different, stronger power from doing what it wished to the ones that were bound. Rose decided to take her chances and stopped fighting for a moment, focusing solely on casting vines of her powers outwards and directing them towards her two pack mates. Something close to an electric jolt rushed through her body as the golden currents brushed against the invisible ropes the wolf-man had wrapped around Jens's and Jürgen's throats, but she remained calm, not giving the sensation even the smallest opportunity to break her concentration.
The golden light seeped into the pores of the dense bonds, filling them until there was no more space left for the power to go; but it continued to flow inside, building the pressure up to the point when the bonds couldn't stretch any farther and began to break. Rose felt them crack and release their grip around the werewolves' throats before they crumbled away like ash being scattered across the ground.
Her action caught the wolf-man unprepared, but the eager anticipation on his muzzled face revealed it wasn't the actual power that surprised him, but rather the strength of it. He hadn't anticipated that she could control the energy inside her, but there was no frustration lining his features, only amusement. And by the wolfish grin on his face, she knew the creature had every intention of testing her limits.
She pulled her sword from the back sheath, not trusting her abilities enough to withstand a full-blown release of the wolf-man's metaphysical strength, at least not without some very physical backup.
The air around the wolf-man shimmered with the build-up of energy he had accumulated in the
moments it took for Jens and Jürgen to recover and for Rose to prepare herself for the fast approaching attack. She held the sword in a two-handed grip and lifted the blade in front of her body, her knees slightly bent and legs spread farther apart to give her a better defensive stance. Glancing at the twins from the corner of her eye, she knew they would be too late. She would have to stand her ground alone. As that thought ran through her body, tightening her tendons, the wolf-man uncoiled a gushing river of power and sent it straight at her.
The golden energy flared around her as the invisible current rushed towards her, and found the seam where the skin of her palms touched the hilt. The sword vibrated with power, although the vibrations weren't something physical. It was as if another voice had awoken inside her, and that particular voice was something ancient, something that didn't hold any strength on its own, but possessed the ability to give her power the room to grow, to gain the volume it needed to rebuff the wolf-man's attack. Her hands remained clutched around the sword while the blood of Mokoš sang in her veins, willing the golden energy to expand.
The wolf-man's power crashed into her but didn't pierce the armor her aura had set around her. When the metaphysical dust that spread through the air as the only visible aftermath of the crash settled and revealed her still standing in the shimmer of golden light, the wolf-man dropped his guard for that split second the twins needed to jump him each from his own side.
Rose used the distraction to guide her power outwards, spilling it in the direction of the wolf-man. She knew it wouldn't touch the two werewolves, but would drill directly into the creature's putrid flesh.
A frustrated scream filled the air as the golden light pierced the wolf-man's skin, clashing against the dark-fueled power that rested within him. It slashed at the creature's insides, but not deeply enough. The remains of Psoglav's power combined with the strength the wolf-man had fed it as he slaughtered the Banniks and possibly even more beings Rose was yet unaware of, composed a power that was too violent, too dense to crumble away under the pressure of her energy.
Jens sank his teeth into the exposed skin that ran down the wolf-man's side, right into the tender part that rested just under his ribs, and gnawed at the flesh. Obvious pain hit the creature, weakening his power, which allowed Rose's energy to slash deeper. Accompanied by a deep, menacing growl, Jürgen dragged his claws down the wolf-man's arm and chest as his brother kept tearing at the flesh, but it wasn't enough. Rose kept pushing as much energy as she could into the twitching body of the creature, but the power base he possessed was too solid to break under her attack.
In a blink of an eye, the wolf-man extended his claws, which were now dripping with that oozing green texture of the toxin, and plunged them into Jens.
Chapter 40
They finally had a chance, a real chance to test out the bodies they had chosen. He didn't particularly care how the enemy had crept into their land; all that mattered was the fight. The Black werewolves had slaughtered quite a few beasts from their ranks during their collision in the Alps, but those corpses were weak, hardly more than cannon fodder and definitely nothing like the one that was subjected to his control. If only the dark figures hadn't departed so early from the blood-soaked land...
His brethren rushed at the four werewolves. Breaking into a run with them, he nonetheless had to admire, in a warrior-to-warrior manner, the way the minute group of their opponents relentlessly held their ground. As valiant as their attempt was, none of it truly mattered. The killing lust was rising rapidly inside the vetalas, and they intended to release the full strength of it on the four werewolves standing in the clearing.
He flashed a glance at the rest of the running figures. They spread the group farther out into the distance, the front row forming a slightly curved line as they continued to close the gap to the waiting weres. It would allow the WVs to encircle them when the opportunity for it arose. With only four of the enemy standing against them, he was certain a chance would present itself soon, and once they had the werewolves surrounded, killing them would be so easy that the lack of effort almost took the fun out of it.
One of the werewolves from the middle of the small group released a growling howl, directed a little farther to the right from where he was standing.
Female, he thought, more amused than anything else at the image of the black figure darting straight into the center part of the curved wall the vetala-inhabited bodies had formed. He was tempted to observe the show, tempted to see how his brethren would tear apart the lone female were, but his eyes were set on a prize of his own.
He had felt his corporeal vessel react to one of the werewolves; only mildly at first, when he caught a current of her scent traveling faintly through the otherwise still air. But as he closed the distance, he recognized the unique smell of her fur, the different aromas of the years her body had flowed through during the course of its existence. He didn't need to see the blood-driven stare on the werewolf's face to know that she had recognized him, too.
Such a treat, he thought to himself as his legs thudded on the ground in the rhythm of a well-paced run.
Taking a life of someone the body had known while it still served as a vessel for its original owner was never anything less than pure delight. The flesh always remembered, always wanted to fight against slaughtering that which had once been familiar; but the flesh could never overcome the will of its new owner. It was as if the first death came from the departure of the soul, and the second came from the vetala forcing the body into a situation that was, in its core, so fundamentally and gravely against its nature, but leaving no other choice than to abide by its master's wishes and break what little will had remained locked inside the flesh.
He understood that this time, he would die along with the corporeal form, but at least it would be a death he enjoyed.
Evelin was drowning in the scent of the creature that had taken her sister. Bile rose in her throat, but the will for vengeance burned too ardently inside her to give way to the nauseating feeling. She slashed almost absentmindedly at the WVs who sprang at her as she drilled her path towards the only one that mattered. Barely aware of the bodies falling to the ground at the tips of her claws and teeth, she locked her eyes on the brown creature that was now close enough for her to taste the bitter undertone of his scent on the tip of her tongue.
She felt the sharp pain of claws being dragged down her side, but she pushed forward regardless. Unless it brought her down, no wound was too grave. Evelin trusted the pack to finish any strays that fell off her trail, but if the werewolf vetala that had clawed her continued in its pursuit, it would take only a snap of her teeth to break his paltry neck. She could smell the lack of ability on the WV, felt that he was weaker than her, weaker than the rest of the Blacks, and would die either way.
The creature decided not to follow, but rather join the group that sprinted past her in Tim's direction. The werewolf's readiness for battle washed over the bond and that second of doubt that had, despite her conviction, risen inside her, that single thought that she should drop her vendetta and join her pack mate in the fight, disappeared. Tim was more than glad to rip through the demonic creatures by himself.
The warm sensation of freshly drawn blood dripped down her muzzle. She had lost count of how many werewolf vetalas she had torn into while persistently moving towards her mark. And she was close. A wave of support filled the bond and wrapped itself around her. She had no trouble recognizing that particular gentle feel of Mark's thoughts. He knew. Of course he knew. She had forgotten that the bond of The Dark Ones didn't only give her the insight into the other werewolves, but gave the others the ability to sense her actions and emotions as well.
At least I won't have to explain my actions to the pack afterward, Evelin thought with a hint of humor, the one that kept her sane in situations exactly like the one she had found herself in.
Submerging in another round of slicing the enemy bodies, she realized she felt silly for keeping her experience from the pa
ck. They were her family, and she should have told them about her past. No excuses. But now they knew. They all knew, and the relief of no longer carrying all that pain alone washed over her, giving her rage more room to expand, to transform into that lethalness that would finally give her the revenge she desperately needed.
As she slashed at a gray-coated werewolf vetala, throwing him to the side, her mark was finally within touching distance. The nauseating feeling returned as her memory flared to life, but the almost feverish desire to roll the taste of his flesh in her mouth pushed it back, pulling a lid on that dreadful helplessness that washed over her when she hid inside the house while her mother bled on the kitchen floor, while her sister was being snatched away. She wasn't a little werewolf anymore. And the only person she had to listen to was herself.
The WV snarled at her and bared the sharpness of his teeth, but Evelin didn't have time to even notice his performance. She sprung into the air before the creature could anticipate her move, before it had the chance to react to her attack. She felt the corners of her muzzle pull into a wolfish grin as her claws pierced the flesh, deeper and deeper...
Chapter 41
A series of wounded cries and growls erupted behind her. Judging by the dispersed sound, the pack must have led the werewolf vetalas farther towards the center of the clearing. Not to retreat, but to give themselves more room to maneuver during combat. However, none of that mattered, not to her.
Evelin's mouth was filled with the foul taste of re-animated flesh, the thickness of her black fur drenched in blood. She had pried open the WV's body, digging into it with her teeth and claws until the creature was lying flat against the ground with its torso wide open.