A Short Trip To Hell: Hellcat Series Origins Volume 1
Page 4
The older man wearily took a seat behind a large desk, resting his elbows on the paper-strewn surface, concentration furrowing grooves into his forehead.
“There’s no way to separate the man from the Wolf though. Is there a way to help the Wolf come to the fore, and override the human tendencies?” he asked, addressing his question towards the blonde man.
“It’s possible given time, that the wolf could prevail, but it usually becomes easier to control the Wolf as time goes on, not the other way around. With such a strong malevolent personality in the driving seat I don’t see much chance for the Wolf,” the man answered. “And as with anything, the Wolf would need to rest and recharge at times, then the human side would be free to do whatever he wanted again.”
The older man sighed. “Then the order stands; Elimination is our only option. I’ll update the other teams. Everyone is on call until this Pack is terminated.” He stood, and came around the desk, just as the woman shrugged back into her leather jacket. “Gabi, are you sure you don’t want to sit this one out? It’s a harsh assignment, and not one I’d pick for your first Elimination order.”
Annoyance flickered briefly across the woman’s features before she erased it with a smile. “You know better than that Byron,” she said, reaching out to hug the older man. “I’ve been ready for this for months, now is my chance to prove it to you.” Byron patted her shoulder before breaking away.
“Then happy Hunting to you both. Keep me in the loop.”
When his mother returned she was vibrating with contentment, her hunger vanquished. She brought with her a chunk of something that instantly awoke his nose, flooding his mouth with saliva. His litter-mates woke too, and by their hungry cries, were also excited by the delicious smell. They crowded around his mother and she dropped the small chunk of food in front of them. As hungry as it made them the thing was still alien, unknown. They instinctively shrank back from it, before cautiously edging towards it once more. It oozed dark liquid and glistened in the dim light of the den. He was the first with the courage to sniff it up close, then lick. The coarse texture was strange but not unpleasant. Soon all three of them were tugging and licking and sucking at their mother’s offering. She watched over them, purring contentedly. And when they’d had their fill, ultimately not able to tear off more than a few small mouthfuls, she took it away and ate what was left. Then she meticulously cleaned each of them and settled down to allow them back to her nipples to fill their tummies. The entire family fell asleep content and happy, even him, for once not disturbed by his mother’s disquiet.
“Have you really got the scent trail?” the green-eyed, auburn-haired woman asked. “Do you think it’s the whole Pack?” The sandy-haired man shot her a withering glance.
“Yes, I really have it. Yes, it’s at least the majority of them, and it’s too strong for it to only be a casual passing,” he told her. “They’ve been around here regularly, one of the trails will probably lead us to wherever they’re living.” The woman dropped a pair of sunglasses back into place on her nose and hefted a curvy-bladed short sword in her right hand, allowing the sun to glint off the razor-sharp edge. She inclined her head towards the large, rusted gates dominating the side of the road a short distance away. A peeling signboard warned that unauthorised individuals were not permitted on the grounds of the now-defunct, coal-fired power station.
“I vote they’re in there,” she said.
“You’re probably right, but we have to wait for back-up,” the man said, putting a restraining hand on her left arm. “I don’t like the odds of six to two, not with this Pack.”
The woman gave him a petulant look. “Really? Come on, we can at least go and make sure they’re actually here.”
“We’re not going to be able to sneak up on them, Gabs. They are Werewolves after all. If they scatter, we might lose some of them. There’s no point in ruining our best chance of getting the whole Pack by being impatient.”
“The others are only a few minutes away. We can flush them back towards the road, and the others can clean up any we miss.” The woman was gesturing with the sword, and the man was warily keeping his nose out of its way. He didn’t look even vaguely convinced by her arguments. “Okay, well how about we break inside and recon the outlying area at least?” the woman almost begged. “Standing around waiting will kill me.”
The man threw his head back, clearly admitting some level of defeat.
“And you’re going to kill us both,” he groused, but turned and led the way towards the disused gates. A grin lit the red-head’s face as she set off in hot pursuit.
Pounding and raucous noises woke him. Woke them all. His sibling began mewing. He knew instantly that something was terribly wrong. The alarm flooding his mother as she sprang to her feet, fuelled a fear deep inside him. A low, warning growl rumbled deep from her chest, she leapt to stand between her kittens and the small opening at the front of the den, a hole chewed in a door by something with small, sharp teeth.
The noises came closer and he knew what they came from through his mother’s memories; tall-ones, two-leggers. Danger, not to be trusted, stay away. All her memories of tall-ones were laced with violence and pain, her body and mind bore evidence of their brutality. Every one of the hairs on his body stood to attention and his back arched involuntarily, doubling his size, as a tiny unbidden hiss burst past his tongue.
“That fucking thieving cat is here somewhere, I can smell it,” a deep, rasping voice yelled loudly.
“We’ll teach it to steal from the Pack,” a high, nasally voice agreed.
“Find it!” The first voice roared.
His mother backed up, forcing the kittens to keep behind her, melting into the shadows, her stance at once defiant and protective. It was too late for escape, the tall-ones were already outside the den. So close he could smell them. They smelt strange, alien, not matching his mother’s memories, there was something different about these tall-ones. They weren’t like the ones his mother had encountered. Something deep inside him told him they were worse.
The remains of the door that protected their den shattered inward, the semi-rotted wood splintering into shards that rained down around them. Huge bodies crowded the small space, sunlight speared in, hurting his eyes and blinding him.
“Kill them. Fucking scavengers,” the shrill voice was laced with excitement. A sharp spit erupted from his mouth as his mother growled, his siblings hissed next to him, their bodies also puffed out as they strove to make themselves look bigger and more fierce.
A heavy, booted foot kicked out, directly towards the four of them, catching his mother’s flank even as she skittered back out of the way, one of his siblings tumbled to one side and lay gasping. His mother didn’t hesitate for even the blink of an eye as she launched herself at the leg above the boot, with an angry yowl. He and his other sibling, backed away from the commotion, automatically closing ranks in front of the one lying stunned on the ground.
A roar battered his ears, his mother had hurt the tall-one, but then she flew through the air, struck by a thickly muscled arm. She hit the side of the small shed she’d made her den, and collapsed to the debris-covered floor. Dazedly she lifted her head, struggling to rise. She was growling, hissing, spitting in anger, but he could feel her pain. And he could feel her acceptance of the inevitable. Death, the end, she only wanted to save her babies, her own life wasn’t as precious as theirs.
Without so much as a glance in their direction she dragged herself to her feet and began limping towards the door and the waiting tall-ones. They were shouting, guffawing, there were so many of them. His mother darted past them out of the shed, hoping to lead them away from him and his siblings. She didn’t get far before another boot swung out and caught her in the shoulder. A howl escaped her, agony seared through her body and he could feel it almost as though it was his own. Inside the shed, he screamed, his tiny voice barely audible over the rowdy laughs of the tall-ones.
Her agony seemed to last forever,
each blow breaking fragile bones, tearing muscle and tendon and rupturing things inside her. And they were enjoying it, he could hear it in their voices. He wanted so badly to go to her, to comfort her as the life drained from her, let her know she wasn’t alone, that she was his world, but his body was paralysed by the echo of her pain and his own fear.
And then it was over. He could no longer feel her presence in his mind. She was gone. They were on their own.
“Get the little runts too,” the raspy voice ordered. “We can drown ‘em as an encore.”
A large tall-one forced his way back inside the den and reached for the kittens.
Hissing and spitting he struck at the hand. He felt the satisfying pop of the man’s skin giving way beneath his tiny fangs. The man squealed, yanking back from the bite and dropping him. Warm, salty blood tainted his taste buds, scalding his tongue and setting the inside of his mouth tingling. The man roared in anger and then that bleeding hand hit him, sending him sprawling across the dirty floor, to land in the pile of rags and paper that had been his haven, his place of comfort and happiness. It smelled strongly of his mother. Tiny hisses erupted from his two litter-mates as rough hands grabbed them up, he fought to regain his balance, his head ringing and his body aching from the blow.
Then a shout came from another of the tall-ones, and the sudden scent of fear filled the air, too much to be emanating from his tiny siblings.
“Forget the runts,” the raspy voice roared, “the pigs ‘ave found us. Scatter. Lose ‘em and meet up at the safe house. Go!”
Relief made his tiny body sag, the pounding was the tall-ones' footsteps as they fled. Soon their voices were all but ghostly whispers on the breeze. He dragged his aching body upright and tottered towards the broken doorway.
He paused in the threshold, blinking in the bright light. On the cracked concrete ground outside lay three still forms; his mother was closest to him, her broken body lying at unnatural angles, her eyes still open, staring towards the small, furry bodies of her kittens. Blood trickled from her mouth and nose. Neither of his siblings was moving, not even the tiny rise and fall of breathing. He was alone. His body didn’t know how to make a noise that would give voice to his desolation. He made his way to his mother’s side, curled up next to her still-warm body and began to purr, barely aware of the persistent tingle on his tongue.
The woman crashed through the undergrowth, her sword was gripped firmly in her right hand, her hair, pulled into a severe bun, was trailing loose tendrils and a fierce look of concentration etched her features. She burst out of the scrubby bush and into the rubble-strewn yard of the old power station. Her male companion was on her left, far enough away that she could only just hear him, and there were others to her right, they were closing the net on their prey. She was breathing hard, but not panting, enjoying the exhilaration of the chase, wondering if she’d enjoy the finality of the kill when it came. She paused, scanning the handful of abandoned buildings, garages and tool sheds; it wouldn’t do to have a rogue hiding out here, waiting for them to pass by. She jogged a circuit of the ruins, scanning any possible hiding places and was about to take up the chase again when an outlying shed caught her attention, it was barely big enough to hold a full grown man, but something about it called to her.
“Gabi,” the man to her left yelled. “Come on, we need to go.”
“Coming,” she shouted back, “just a sec.”
He heard her footsteps, nothing like the heavy thudding of the other tall-ones; hers were quick and light, barely touching the ground. Instantly he was on his feet, puffing himself up, arching his back, using the last dregs of his will power to hiss and spit warningly. He no longer cared about running, about saving his own life. He would fight to the end like his mother.
She rushed into the small clearing and then skidded to a halt, taking in the sight of him, his mother and tiny siblings. Her mouth dropped open, and even if he didn’t know enough about tall-ones to recognise the expression, he knew innately that she was horrified by what she saw.
“Oh. My. Lord,” she whispered, quickly dropping to her knees next to one of his siblings. She carelessly dropped her sword on the ground and gently lifted the tiny flaccid kitten, holding it up to her ear. She’d known the truth before she checked, but she did anyway. “Fuckers!” she spat. “Fuckers, fuckers, fuckers. I’ll kill them with my bare fucking hands.”
“Gabi,” the male voice yelled again.
“I’m coming,” she called from between gritted teeth. Her jaw was set in a hard line even as she carefully lay the lifeless kitten back on the ground and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.
And then her eyes met his. And her green eyes were familiar to him; as familiar as his mother’s. He’d dreamed of her. Confusion reignited his fear and he hissed again, a tiny growl beginning in his throat.
“Oh,” she said softly, and he could actually feel her happiness at seeing him. “Aren’t you just a tiny ball of fierce?”
“Gabi where the hell are you?” The man’s voice was becoming urgent. “They’re getting too far ahead of us.” Annoyance flickered through the woman and she sighed.
“Well, I can’t leave you here,” she said, “You’ll have to come with me.” She reached a hand out towards him just as a warm blanket of reassurance stitched with promises of safety and love fell over him and enveloped him. He didn’t want to allow her to pick him up, but as she unzipped her jacket and tucked him into a pocket he couldn’t help but curl into her warmth. His chest felt heavy with loss and he no longer had the will to fight. As the woman began to jog again, she put a hand over him to keep him pressed close to her body where he could hear the strong, steady beat of her heart. Within moments he was asleep; for once an entirely dreamless sleep.
He didn’t know how long she ran for, didn’t know how long he’d been zipped protectively inside her jacket. The Hunters had spoken, shouted, yelled, whispered, but none of it had made sense to him. His mind simply drifted in a pool of grief, exhaustion and pain. He roused when the woman’s body suddenly stretched and contorted, jostling him and re-awakening the peculiar burning inside his mouth. Excited voices shouted and cried and roared in fury, and then there was calm and the voices quieted. The noise of the woman’s jacket zip brought him fully awake, and she lifted him carefully from his warm pouch. He blinked until her face came into focus; her hair was no longer tied back, it was wild and untidy, dark with sweat at her temples and nape. Her face sported a purpling bruise and some scratches, but her eyes were warm with concern for him.
“Thanks,” she said, reaching for something from another tall-one who approached. She moved, tucking him into the crook of her arm and settling onto a tree-stump. The delicious scent of milk reached his nostrils and made him cry out, he was so hungry. A soft teat touched his mouth. It wasn’t his mother’s nipple, but he understood it contained sustenance and he latched on greedily.
“You alright Hellcat?” another male voice interrupted his feeding as a very tall tall-one sat on the tree stump next to her, he hissed weakly.
“Shh,” she admonished the man, “I just got him feeding.” She stroked him reassuringly and gently forced the teat back into his mouth. She seemed calm so he relented and resumed suckling.
“You know what I mean,” the man persisted, but his voice was much softer now. “No Elimination job is pleasant or pretty, but this was a particularly nasty one. It’s normal to feel ambivalent about the first one.”
“The only thing I’m upset about,” she hissed, “is that they didn’t suffer longer. You didn’t see what they did to that cat and her kittens. They were brutal monsters who deserved to be put down. I won’t lose one second of sleep over taking their lives, I promise you that much.” The man sighed, if anyone felt ambivalent it was him, not her.
“Alright,” he conceded. “But talk to someone… Kyle… whoever… in a day or two. Sometimes it hits you harder after the adrenalin wears off.” The tree stump moved as he stood and then he left them.
“What are we doing back here, Hellcat?” The familiar man, the one he could scent on her, that she felt comfortable with, was near.
“You don’t have to come,” she retorted. “You can stay at the car. I won’t be long.”
“Argh,” the man sounded tired and frustrated. The woman once gain eased him out of her pocket, and this time settled him in a nest of something soft, something she must have worn as it smelled of her. It was comfortable and warm and the tingling in his mouth had finally died away. He didn’t fight the pull of sleep and dreams.
The green-eyed woman with the sweat-slick auburn hair squared her shoulders and strode from the van. The man followed with a small pile of folded white towels tucked under an arm. He’d used one to dry and clean his face of sweat and grime, but he left that behind as he followed the woman to a derelict shed set off to one side of the collection of once useful buildings.
He sucked in a breath when he neared the scene. The woman didn’t pause, she’d already braced herself. She reached for the towels under his arm, but as she made to leave he pulled her back to him, hugging her close and kissing the top of her head. Not a lover’s gesture but one of sympathy and support, an understanding of her pain.
She rested her head on his chest for just a second before pulling away, blinking rapidly. She moved to the body of the first kitten and knelt to lift its body, already gone stiff in death. She wrapped it tenderly in one of the towels and laid it back on the ground before moving to the next one. She passed the last, larger bundle to the man.