The Girl With Crooked Fangs

by Amy Cross

  “You killed her,” Izzy whispered again.

  “And you should hate me for it.”

  She opened her mouth to reply, but she felt as if no words could ever express her sense of shock and sorrow.

  “But that's why I finally came to find you,” Gaal continued. “For so long, I wallowed in self-pity, I believed there was no way I could ever make up for my crimes. It was only a few years ago that I learned of a possibility. You know of the race memory that we all carry, do you not? You're a growing girl, Izzy, and I'm sure you must have experienced some very vivid nightmares.”

  “You were in some of them,” she stammered.

  “I'm sure I was, and I'm sure people were terrified of me.” He paused. “The race memories have long been a mystery that no vampire could truly explain. Sometimes, things that happen when we experience those memories leave a lingering mark.”

  “My stomach,” Izzy replied.

  “I'm sorry?”

  She paused, before lifting the front of her shirt just enough to let him see the burn marks from her dream about the giant spider.

  “As I suspected,” Gaal continued, “you are particularly sensitive to the way our race memory works. As you've found to your cost, the race memory is more than just a memory, it's a way of contacting the past. Those of us who are particularly powerful in this regard are able to interact, to a limited extent. But lately I've become aware of another possibility, of a chance for us to make a greater impact. Once, long ago, I attempted to force my way through the gate of the great vampire library. I wanted to change history, to use the race memory as a means to undo my crimes. I failed, and I suffered horrific injuries, but now I have found another way to get through that barrier.”

  “What are you -”

  “I found a way through!” he added, his eyes filled with excitement. Reaching down, he took her hand and began to lead her to a doorway at the far end of the chamber. “Let me show you!”

  “I don't know whether -”

  “You're my daughter,” he continued, limping as he led her through the doorway and into another, smaller chamber where various metal artifacts had been laid out on a wooden table. “You're the only one who can help me with this. I promise you, Izzy, I would have let you live the rest of your life without interference, were it not for the fact that you and I, together, can do something that no vampire has never managed before.” Letting go of her hand, he limped to the table and then reached down, carefully lifting an old, scratched silver bowl. “Did John ever get around to teaching you,” he said with a hint of awe in his voice, “about the ways of the ancient vampires?”

  “He didn't get around to teaching me much at all,” she replied.

  “This is the Crucible of Attaroth,” he explained, stepping closer with the bowl held out for her to see. “Some say the metal was originally created by an older civilization, by a race of demons that existed before the first vampires crawled from the primordial mud. What is indisputable, however, is the fact that the Crucible of Attaroth has the ability to enhance certain qualities of the vampire mind. Others have tried to make use of this ability, but they lacked the necessary strength. I came closer than them all, but even I fell short. And that is when I realized that I needed assistance from one who shares my blood.” He paused. “That can only be you, Izzy.”

  “It's just a bowl,” she replied, trying not to panic. “What exactly do you think you can do with it?”

  “We can use it to break through into the great library,” he continued. “Together, we can use the Crucible of Attaroth to breach the gate, and then we can go back and stop my crimes. We can undo the moment that set me on a path of such cruelty and anger. All the pain I've caused, all the suffering, will be wiped away, and I shall be redeemed.”

  “You want to change history?” she asked. “There's no way you can ever -”

  “It can be done!” he hissed, leaning closer. “Just because I failed once, I'm not ready to surrender. I could apologize for the rest of time itself, but words are not enough. I am ready to give my life, if that is what it takes, in order to correct my crimes. In that way, I hope to show that I can be the man your mother once loved. But I need your help for that, Izzy. You're the only person in the world whose blood is close enough to mine.”

  Shaking her head, she took a step back.

  “Izzy, please -”

  “I want to leave!”

  “Izzy -”

  “I want to go home,” she said firmly. “I don't want to be involved in any of this, I just want to -”

  “What about your mother?”

  “You killed her!”

  “And now I'm the only one who can bring her back!”

  “You're just -”

  She froze, stunned by those words.

  “I can, Izzy,” he continued, stepping closer with the bowl still in his hands. “By undoing my crimes, I can make it so that Genevieve never had to die. You and I will be the only ones who remember that version of events. All around us, the world will be reordered, and one of the consequences will be your mother's return.” He paused, seeing the fear in her eyes. “If you really want to leave, Izzy, then by all means walk out of here. You absolutely have that right, and that freedom. But if you want your mother back, if you want to see her and meet her and get to know her, then you have to stay and help me.”

  He waited, letting the idea take root in her mind for a moment.

  “Will you do this with me, Izzy?” he asked finally. “Will you help me undo my mistakes, and bring her back?”

  “Yes,” she whispered, as he gently kissed her forehead. “If it means...” She paused. “Are you sure it'll work?”

  “I'm sure,” he replied calmly. “I knew you'd come to see things my way. I knew I'd be able to rely on you.”

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  “Behind you!”

  Grabbing Rita's arm, John pulled her aside just as another of the cold-blooded vampires dropped down into the clearing. There were twelve already on the ground, and a couple more dropped down a moment later.

  “We're surrounded,” Rita pointed out, turning as she heard one of the creatures hissing behind her. “I don't suppose they happen to have a convenient vulnerability, do they? Are they susceptible to...” Reaching into her pockets, she pulled out a handful of fluff. “Lint, maybe?”

  “A stake through the heart would stop them,” he replied, “but we're outnumbered.”

  As one of the cold-bloods lunged at him, John stepped out of the way and then grabbed the creature, quickly slamming it against a tree and then shoving it down to the ground. Digging the heel of his boot into the back of the creature's neck, he pushed hard for a moment and then held a hand out toward Rita.

  “I need a knife!”

  Unhooking one of the knives from her belt, she handed it to him and watched as he slid the blade into the creature's back, puncturing its heart.

  “One down,” she muttered, before hearing a rustling sound nearby. Turning, she saw that another cold-blood had worked up the courage to approach. “Give me the knife again!” she told John.

  “I can't!”

  She turned to him.

  “If I take it out,” he continued, “this cold-blood will come back to life.”

  “Great,” she replied, unhooking her other two knives and holding them up. “We've got three knives, so we can only get rid of three of them. Is that the deal?”

  “I can fight them,” he told her, “but I can't protect you at the same time.”

  “Story of my life.” As one of the cold-bloods lunged at her, she swung the knife wildly, missing its face by inches as it recoiled for a moment. “This isn't gonna work for long!”

  “Plus, I'm a little rusty,” he explained. “The war was a long time ago and -”

  Before he could finish, two cold-bloods rushed at him, shoving him down and landing on his chest. Rita stepped over to help, but suddenly another cold-blood landed on her back and pushed her to the ground. Screaming, she felt s
harp claws digging into the flesh on the back of her neck, but she managed to roll out of the way just as the creature tried to bite her flesh. Lashing out with one of the knives, she was able to dig it into the cold-blood's chest, but nowhere near the heart. Snarling, the creature pulled back with the knife's handle poking out of its body, but it seemed angered rather than hurt.

  “Run!” John gasped, fighting off three cold-bloods nearby. “Get out of here!”

  “I'm not -”

  Another cold-blood slammed into her from the side, sending her crashing into a tree and then knocking her to the ground. Rolling onto her back, she was about to get up when she saw three cold-bloods towering over her, their fangs visible in the moonlight.

  “Okay,” she stammered, as she heard John crying out nearby, “maybe -”

  She screamed as one of the creatures lunged at her, but at the very last moment another shape crashed into view and threw itself against the cold-blood, knocking it back. After briefly covering her face with her hands, Rita began to crawl away, before turning just as blood and torn flesh sprayed across her face. Her eyes widened with shock as she saw what appeared to be a wolf tearing one of the cold-bloods to pieces, and seconds later the animal turned and attacked two others, quickly bringing them down with impressive force.

  Nearby, several other cold-bloods ran screaming from the scene, as if the wolf's presence had struck terror into their souls. The wolf raced over to John and bit one of the other cold-bloods hard around the neck, pulling it away and then shaking it furiously until letting go and sending the lifeless corpse slamming into a nearby tree.

  “What the actual hell?” Rita gasped, sitting up despite the pain in her ribs.

  “Wait!” John shouted, getting to his feet and holding his hands up as the wolf approached. The remaining cold-bloods had already scattered, while several dismembered corpses lay on the grass, but the wolf quickly turned and snarled as it looked into the darkness.

  “Do you wanna explain this?” Rita asked, her heart pounding as she watched thick saliva dribbling from the wolf's jaws. “Is this guy a friend of yours?”

  “I've never seen him before in my life,” John replied, taking a step back, “although actually, I think he might be -”

  Before he could finish, the wolf lifted its head and let out a guttural groan, and then its back seemed to twist and crack, as if the bones were starting to rearrange themselves. The shape of its head was changing, too, and a series of crunching, splitting sounds could be heard from all over the animal's body as it rolled onto its side and let out a slow, aching groan.

  “What's it doing?” Rita whispered. “Is it hurt?”

  “No,” John said, stepping closer to the wolf, “I think it's...”

  Rita gasped as she saw one of the paws twisting back to reveal a human hand.

  “Oh great,” she stammered, as the color started draining from her face. “Just when I think I've seen everything...”

  “There aren't supposed to be werewolves in the area,” John continued. “There just aren't, this is... This is highly irregular.”

  “You don't say,” Rita replied, watching with a mixture of shock and fascination as more and more fleshy human body parts emerged from the wolf's shuddering body. As the fur retracted beneath the animal's flesh, she spotted another hand, then a neck, and a moment later she noticed an entire human chest coming into view, complete with breasts and – further down – a belly button.

  “It's a woman,” John pointed out.

  “No shit.”

  A moment later, a human face rose up from the shuddering lump of flesh and fur, and a set of bright blue eyes snapped open as the mouth let out a strained gasp.

  “Natalie?” John stammered, stepping closer.

  “You know her?” Rita asked.

  “Doctor Natalie Laine,” he continued, as the transformation continued. “She works at the hospital, we've met several times, she even offered me opera tickets once but...” He stared for a moment, clearly shocked, as the wolf face was absorbed by Natalie's body and the human face flickered to life. “I had no idea she was a werewolf.”

  Gasping, Natalie tumbled forward and landed on her hands and knees, struggling for breath now that the change appeared to be complete.

  “She's butt naked,” Rita muttered. “I always wondered how that worked.”

  “They're gone,” Natalie said, sitting up and looking around. “Cowardly little things. I don't mind hot-blooded vampires, but those cold-bloods get on my nerves.”

  “What are you doing here?” John asked.

  Wincing a little, Natalie got to her feet. “Saving your asses,” she replied, turning her head a little to iron out some twisted muscles in her neck and shoulders. “Sorry I couldn't let you know about this in advance, John, but I was under strict instructions to just keep a low profile and observe you until you needed my intervention.” She turned to him. “We knew that RaYuul would come for Izzy one day. The New Council of Gothos also knew that vampires would be noticed in the area, so they asked for a werewolf to come and keep an eye on things. And here I am.”

  “I'm a vampire,” John stammered.

  “I know, dumb-ass,” she replied, not sounding terribly impressed. “And I'm a werewolf, obviously.” She turned to Rita. “The question is, what are you?”

  “I'm a...” Rita paused. “Sagittarius.”

  “You're in over your head,” Natalie continued. “I'm sure Izzy would appreciate the sentiment of you throwing your life away in some futile gesture, but you should probably head home.”

  “No way,” Rita replied. “I'm here to help Izzy.”

  “There's nothing you can do,” Natalie told her.

  “Oh yeah? Well if it wasn't for me, no-one'd be trying to help her in the first place!”

  Natalie frowned. “What do you -”

  “He wasn't gonna come after her,” she continued, gesturing toward John. “He was all for giving up and letting her get taken by whoever's after her.”

  Natalie turned to him. “Is that true?”

  “There was a moment,” he replied, “when I felt that it would do more harm than good to intervene. I genuinely considered letting Izzy stay with her biological father.”

  “You other-think things sometimes,” Natalie told him. She turned to Rita, but then she glanced at John again. “Like, a lot!”

  “Izzy's -”

  “She's a kid, for God's sake,” Natalie continued. “And screw Gaal. You're her father, John, at least in the ways that count. You're the one she really needs.”

  He paused, before nodding.

  “But you need to leave,” Natalie told Rita. “You won't last ten seconds.”

  “I've managed so far.”

  “Pure luck.”

  “I'm coming with you!”

  “Absolutely not!”

  “There's a metal door that you guys need to get through,” Rita explained, “and unless I'm missing something, you can't bite it to death or rip it apart, so I'm pretty sure you could use my dynamite. Plus...” She glanced down at the rest of Natalie's naked body for a moment, before looking her in the eyes again. “In my backpack, I have a spare set of pants and a shirt. Would you maybe like those?”

  Natalie opened her mouth to reply, before nodding.

  “Exactly,” Rita continued, “so let's not have any more talk about me going home, okay?”

  Natalie sighed. “Okay. But don't blame me when you get slaughtered.”

  “We're going to get the dynamite now,” Rita added.

  “Okay.”

  “And I'll get those clothes for you. Unless you actually like walking around naked?”

  “The clothes would be much appreciated,” Natalie muttered, starting to blush as she turned her back to John. “Thank you.”

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  “Your father is resting,” O'Malley told Izzy as he joined her in one of the side-chambers. “Even talking to you for that short period took a lot out of him. It's a miracle he's clinging
to life at all.”

  “He says he can bring my mother back,” Izzy replied, turning the Crucible of Attaroth over in her hands and examining the bottom for a moment, before turning to him. “Is that really possible?”

  “I...” He paused. “I'm afraid I'm not privy to the details of your father's plan. He brought me on-board purely to help with certain sensitive matters, but my role is over now. In fact, that's why I'm here. I'll be leaving soon, and I just wanted to...”

  His voice trailed off.

  “To what?” she asked.

  “I don't know, exactly.” He paused again, clearly feeling uncomfortable. “To apologize, maybe, for deceiving you, and for kidnapping you. You always said you wanted to know the truth, so here it is. Good luck, Izzy, you should -”

  “Who did she love?”

  “I'm sorry?”

  “My mother?” She waited, seeing the doubt and fear in his eyes. “Did she love my father, or my... or did she love John?”

  “I really don't think I'm qualified to say.”

  “But you knew her, didn't you?”

  “Barely, we were just -”

  “So tell me about her.”

  “Your father is best placed to do that.”

  “He never -” She caught herself just in time, having almost misunderstood. “I guess it'll take a while before I get used to that word not meaning John,” she continued finally. “He lied to me for all those years, he pretended to be my father.”

  “He had his reasons.”

  “I don't care! He should have told me the truth!”

  “Well...” O'Malley hesitated, before forcing a smile. “It's all in the past. You know the truth now, Izzy, and that's the important thing.” He waited for a reply. “That is what you wanted, isn't it? The truth?”

  She bristled slightly at the question. “Of course.”

  “I can't stay,” he continued, turning and heading toward the door. At the last moment, however, he stopped and glanced back at her. “You'll be okay here, though. Gaal is very different to John, but he's not a monster. He's changed, he's put his darker days in the past and he's ready to move on. Your mother's death had a very profound impact and made him question the way he was living his life. Now things are as they ought to be. Father and daughter, side by side. Family.”