The Werewolf Chasers (Book 3): Wolf Hunt 3

by Strand, Jeff

  "I like your idea," J.P. told Lou. "Let's all head inside."

  * * *

  When Ally stepped into the Ceremony Room, she was more than a little surprised to see Ivan splayed out on the center of the floor, with much of his leg dissolved away. About twenty people stood in the room. They looked like normal people—a variety of ages and races, though they were all adults—and they were dressed in regular street clothes. Only Asher, in his black cloak, seemed to fit with the eerie atmosphere of the room, lit only by candles, with elaborate carvings of wolves on the wall.

  "I apologize for calling you here with no advance notice," said Asher, standing next to Ivan. "My pets, I'm sorry to say that we will not be undressing for this ceremony, because as you see, we have a minor in the room."

  He gestured to Ally. The people in the room chuckled.

  Asher pointed to Ivan. "This man is Ivan Spinner. That name may or may not be familiar to you. He came here to cut a deal, but he has not earned the right to bargain with us. My pets, his appalling behavior is exactly why things are so difficult for our kind. He is a murderer. He is a psychopath. He is evil. You all know the struggle of a beast within that you cannot control, but Ivan Spinner can control it. He is what only a few of you have achieved and what the rest of you aspire to be, and yet he kills in his beast form, out in the open, for fun! And to escape the consequences, he faked his own death."

  "I didn't fake my fuckin' death," said Ivan, his voice weak.

  "You are all about to witness the end of Ivan Spinner. I do not call you here as a warning, or a cautionary tale, because none of you would ever be this reckless, this insane, this destructive to your fellow werewolves. I call you here for a celebration. I call you here to enjoy what you see. With the death—the real death—of Ivan Spinner, your lives will become a bit safer. I would give him the opportunity to speak his final words, but he would squander them on something vulgar and juvenile. So let his final words be whatever he chooses to scream in pain. Goodbye, Ivan Spinner!"

  "Hey, guys!"

  Ally's mouth dropped as J.P. walked into the room, followed by George, Lou, Eugene, and all of the werewolves from the compound, though they were all in human form. George and Lou were drenched in blood.

  "Who are you?" Asher demanded. "How did you get in here?"

  "That was my fault," said Lou. "After you threw us in the pit and we escaped, I stepped outside, but I didn't let the door close all the way, so I was able to let my friends inside. The metal detector went off, but I guess the sound doesn't carry all the way up here."

  "You killed my guards?" Asher asked.

  "Oh, no, no, goodness no. I don't think they wanted to let you know right away that we'd escaped from the pit with them watching us, because that reflects poorly upon them, so they were trying to find us to handle the situation before they had to admit their shameful, shameful failure to you. The metal detector alarm attracted their attention, and because it was fifteen against two, we asked if they might want to just exit the building, and they took us up on that offer."

  "I was pretty surprised when they all came up to the third floor," said George. "I mean, I was all like 'Whoa! Look at all these people!' Crazy, huh?"

  "Let me ask this again," said Asher. "Who are the rest of you?"

  "They're with me," said J.P. "They're werewolves. You like werewolves, don't you? That's sort of your thing, keeping them all safe and stuff? Well, my thing is...actually, I have a lot of different things. I have people all over the place. When there's a problem, such as a dead werewolf, I make that problem disappear. You pay me very well to do this."

  "Again, who are you?"

  "Well, I use a different name when we do business, and it was actually a different guy who did the face-to-face meeting. I'm just good ol' J.P."

  "Good ol' J.P., you do realize that you're outnumbered, right?"

  J.P. glanced around the Ceremony Room. "I've got a dozen, you've got, what, twenty? I figure George, Lou, Eugene, and Ally are free agents for the moment. So, yes, you have the advantage right now, I'll admit it."

  "And you sent them to kill me. Is that correct?"

  J.P. shook his head. "No. I sent Ivan to kill you, but dipshit there got himself all crippled, so the others decided to pitch in. Truthfully, it doesn't surprise me that they fucked this up, but I thought they'd fuck it up later in the process."

  "May I ask why you wanted them to kill me?"

  "Well, Asher, you try to create peace. You want werewolves to live like normal people. If it were up to you, they'd all have suburban homes and honors students and all that crap."

  Ally stepped forward. "You said he wanted to start a war between humans and werewolves."

  "Uh-huh. I lied. I do that sometimes. See, I make money when werewolf-related messes need to be cleaned up, and I make money when werewolves are scared that they'll be exposed, but blackmail only covers the bills so much. I'm looking for the big score. I want every werewolf in the world to have me on their payroll, and then I want the United States government to pay me to protect them from the werewolf menace. I haven't figured out that last part completely yet—this whole plan is still a work in progress, to be honest. But I do know that with you dead, my job gets easier, because I don't have you keeping things under control."

  "Perhaps you should get to the point," said Asher.

  "Perhaps I should. Some werewolves can control it. Some can't. What I have done—okay, it wasn't me, I'm not that smart, but I kind of co-opted the technology—is figured out a way to take away that control. See Ivan there? When he's a wolf, he still thinks like a human. I can take that away from him."

  "I see," said Asher.

  "So if werewolves can't control themselves, well, that's a pretty big problem for a guy like you, and a pretty big opportunity for a guy like me. Now, I know the people I brought here are kind of confused, maybe a little disappointed, perhaps even heartbroken, and I apologize for that. Can't be helped. But let me ask you a question, Asher. What if you were scared to turn on your television because of an ad that might play? What if you couldn't play any YouTube videos with the sound on? What if you couldn't go outside, because the fuckin' ice cream man might be playing something besides his merry kid-attracting tune?"

  "Am I supposed to have any clue what you're talking about?" asked Asher.

  "Nah," said J.P. "It doesn't matter. I'm not asking you to pay me. I'm asking you to be the reason that people pay me. So what have we got in here, thirty-three, thirty-four werewolves?"

  "I think it's time for you to leave."

  J.P. reached into his pocket and took out a whistle. He grinned, and then blew into it.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Pandemonium

  J.P. sprinted out the door and slammed it closed behind him.

  George watched in confusion and horror as everybody in the room except him, Lou, and Eugene reacted to the whistle. Some of them cried out. Some doubled over. Some twitched. Some fell to the floor.

  All of them, including Ally, began to sprout fur.

  George couldn't even find his voice well enough to say, "Oh, shit." It was understood. The three non-werewolves in the room rushed over to the door. Locked.

  Thirty-three people's arms and legs began to lengthen and bulk up. Clothes ripped apart. Hands turned to claws. Mouths extended. Sharp teeth emerged.

  Cries turned to howls.

  George wouldn't exactly say that he was suddenly nostalgic for his time in the pit, but this was really, really bad.

  He pounded on the door. "J.P.! Let us out, you fucking psychopath!"

  If J.P. was on the other side, he either didn't hear or wasn't moved by George's plea. It was a big wooden door. Given enough time to bash against it, he and Lou could probably break it off its hinges, but the almost three-dozen rapidly transforming werewolves created something of a ticking clock.

  Eugene reached underneath his shirt and took out a gun. He extended it to George. "You're a better shot than me! It's silver bullets. I on
ly used one."

  "Thanks," said George, taking the gun. It was a greatly unbalanced ratio of werewolves to silver bullets, but still, it gave them some defensive capability.

  The sound of howls, snarls, and ripping clothes was becoming almost deafening.

  "I guess we could also use the bullets on ourselves," said Eugene. "Better than being torn apart and eaten."

  "Screw that," said George. "I didn't commit suicide in the toilet from hell and I didn't commit suicide in the baby pit, so I'm sure as hell not going to commit suicide now."

  "I don't know what you mean by that, but okay."

  By now, almost all of the werewolves had fully transformed, including Asher, whose cloak had held up quite well. Ivan still lay on the floor and his legs remained human, but the rest of him was full wolfman.

  "Both of you get behind me," said George. "If they're going to attack us, let them come at me directly."

  Lou and Eugene quickly got behind him. They backed against the wall right next to the door.

  "What about Ally?" asked Eugene.

  "I love Ally like a daughter," said George, "but there's not a damn thing we can do for her right now."

  One of the werewolves, who might have been a guy named Frank from the compound (George thought the shredded green shirt looked familiar) turned to face him. Then he charged, jaws wide open.

  * * *

  J.P. ran down the stairs, feeling more alive than he had in a long time. Maybe ever.

  The werewolves locked in that room were just a tiny fraction of the lycanthropes of which he was aware, and there were probably several times that number of which he was not aware. News of this horrific slaughter would get out. And, for a generous price, J.P. could make sure it didn't happen again on a much larger scale. Perhaps a global scale.

  He reached the bottom of the stairwell and almost wanted to skip his way over to the door, though he didn't. He pushed open the door, hurried into the waiting room and through the metal detector, and ran over to the front door.

  It wouldn't open.

  He tried again. The door wouldn't budge.

  How had Lou gotten out earlier?

  His spirits sank. If you had a building full of werewolves, and you were trying to keep their existence from becoming known to the outside world, and many of them did not have full control over their transformations, you'd have some sort of fail-safe to ensure that out-of-control werewolves didn't escape and go on a murderous rampage through Santa Fe.

  One of them must have hit an emergency button or something before they succumbed to the whistle.

  He kicked the door and bellowed in rage.

  * * *

  As the werewolf ran at George, another werewolf intercepted it, knocking both of them to the floor. They rolled around, viciously slashing at each other, until the one on top tore out a sizable chunk of the bottom werewolf's throat.

  All around the room, werewolves were savagely attacking each other. Blood was already spraying everywhere.

  Then another werewolf charged at George. No werewolf was close enough to intercept it. As it leapt into the air, claws extended, George fired. The silver bullet went through the werewolf's chin and exited through the top of its head, and it dropped onto the floor, landing right next to George. It switched back to a human he didn't recognize.

  The sound of the gunshot attracted the attention of several other werewolves.

  "Stay back!" George shouted, waving the gun back and forth, hoping that enough human consciousness remained in the werewolves that they recognized the danger of the weapon. This did not seem to be the case. He only had four bullets left, assuming the gun had been fully loaded when Eugene used it, and there were a half-dozen werewolves moving toward him in an extremely menacing manner.

  One of the werewolves turned its attention to the dead one, but still, that didn't do much to improve their odds.

  The werewolf in front got too close for comfort, and George shot it between the eyes. It changed back to human. This one he recognized—her name was Melissa and she loved science fiction novels.

  He'd work through his guilt later.

  The wolves weren't just attacking each other. One of them raked its claws along the wall, and one was eating a lit candle. However, most of their attention was on bloodshed, and not too far away three of them were working together to disembowel another.

  A severed wolf head actually flew through the air, transforming back into a human head in mid-flight.

  George fired at another one that was getting too close, but this time he only grazed its shoulder. This was obviously extremely painful for the beast. It was not enough to drop it, or even deter it, so George had to use another bullet to kill it.

  One silver bullet left.

  He needed to save it until he had absolutely no other choice.

  Ally was engaged in a fight with a larger werewolf that had her pinned down, but she was beating her hind legs against its stomach and inflicting substantial harm.

  Asher snapped a werewolf's neck.

  A gigantic werewolf leapt at George. He, Lou, and Eugene moved out of the way, though in different directions, and it smashed into the door, rattling it on its hinges.

  George moved even further away. Right next to him, a werewolf was trying to tear off another werewolf's arm, but the limb wouldn't come free.

  Ivan, though helplessly lying on the floor, seemed to be doing okay. Maybe he was too pathetic to make a good victim.

  A werewolf that had apparently gotten too close to a candle ran across the room, its hairy back on fire. It collided with another werewolf, spreading the flames. That werewolf rolled around on the floor, extinguishing itself, while the first werewolf ran in circles, making the flames grow even higher.

  Internal organs spilled onto Ally. She shoved the werewolf off of her and let out a victorious howl.

  There had to be something in this damn room to use as a weapon, but George couldn't see anything except the candles. He grabbed one from a candelabrum. Despite the burning werewolf's yelps of pain, the candle flame George was waving around didn't seem to be having much of an intimidating effect.

  The big werewolf smashed into the door again, this time apparently on purpose. Was it trying to break through?

  Another werewolf joined in.

  Ally looked back and forth, snarling, as if in search of her next victim.

  Lou and Eugene also each grabbed a candle. A flamethrower would be much nicer, or even an acetylene torch, but they'd have to settle for a candle. Better than nothing, though not by much.

  Asher was repeatedly slamming his claws into the chest of another werewolf. There was a lot of blood on his robe now.

  On the other side of the room, George noticed a fire extinguisher. That might be useful as a bashing implement or something to spray in the eyes of nearby werewolves, but he'd have to make it all the way across a room that was filled with feral beasts. It didn't seem worth the risk just to get a fire extinguisher.

  A werewolf came at him. George thrust the candle at it. The flame went out.

  The werewolf knocked him to the floor.

  Lou grabbed a handful of fur on the back of the werewolf's neck and yanked. The werewolf swiped at him, slashing its talons across Lou's chest.

  George punched it in the throat.

  The werewolf's long tongue dangled from its mouth, and it didn't resist as much when Lou yanked its fur again. He shoved it into another werewolf, who chomped off one of its ears.

  Ally was running toward him.

  "Ally, no!" shouted Eugene, stepping in her path.

  For an instant she regarded him as if trying to decide if he was friend or foe. Then she made her decision and slashed Eugene's chest—a much worse chest-slashing than Lou had just received.

  Eugene opened his mouth in a silent scream and dropped to his knees.

  Lou thrust his candle at Ally. His flame didn't go out, and she recoiled.

  Then she lunged again.

  The fire touched h
er muzzle and she yelped. She vigorously shook her head back and forth, quickly putting it out, leaving a small black mark on her face.

  A werewolf bashed against the door, and George heard the wood crack.

  In the middle of the room, the burning werewolf had set another werewolf on fire.

  Lou tried to punch Ally with the arm that wasn't holding the candle. She snapped at him, and if he'd had a hand on that arm, she most likely would have bitten it off.

  Eugene's chest was bleeding, but his ripped shirt was still covering most of the damage, so it was difficult to tell if the wound was really deep. George grabbed his arms and pulled him out of the way, not that there was really an "out of the way" place in a room filled with werewolves.

  The door broke apart.

  The werewolf who'd smashed it open ran out of the room, followed by a couple more.

  "I can run!" Eugene insisted. "Just help me up!"

  George pulled him to his feet. He was immediately knocked back off his feet again as Ally pounced upon him.

  Asher ran past them and out the door.

  George couldn't think of her as Ally. He had to think of her as a murderous werewolf. He kicked her in the side as hard as he could. Lou did the same on the other side. She didn't fall over but backed away, growling.

  Lou helped Eugene up.

  Another werewolf ran out the door.

  George, Lou, and Eugene followed it.

  The werewolves had an advantage because of their size, their claws, their teeth, and their overall ferocity. The humans had an advantage because they had opposable thumbs, even if Lou and Eugene only had one each. So, barring a happy accident, the werewolves couldn't open the elevator door or the steel door that led to the stairwell.

  Asher jumped against the stairwell door a few times. His paws came down on the latch and the door pushed open, immediately proving George's theory to be bullshit. He went into the stairwell and the door slammed shut behind him.

  George didn't really want to go into a stairwell with a werewolf in it, but the elevator had the problem of having to wait for the doors to open and close. Lots of opportunity to get shredded while waiting.