A Short Trip To Hell: Hellcat Series Origins Volume 1 (4 page)

BOOK: A Short Trip To Hell: Hellcat Series Origins Volume 1
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BLOOD AND THUNDER

Razor

(Several years before the events of A Cat’s Chance in Hell (Hellcat Series Book One)

 

 

 

His world was a place mostly dark, and sometimes still a little blurry around the edges.  Life was scrabbling with his two siblings for a place to feed in the soft fur of his mother’s warm belly, taking in the scents around him and sleeping in a comfortable, purring pile of family.  Scents were the most interesting; often unpleasant to his sensitive nose, they told stories of places and things he had yet to experience.  Some soon became familiar; his mother and litter-mates, his mother’s milk, the crisp scent of early mornings and the strange but distinct odour embedded in the shredded material lining the nest his mother had made for them. 

Sounds also piqued his curiosity, but unusual ones were few and far between.  The only sounds he knew intimately were his mother’s purr, her occasional soft meow in response to the tiny calls of one of his siblings and the chirping and rustle of some small creatures outside.

But before any of those senses had become clear he’d been aware of his mother; he knew her as thoroughly as he knew himself.  Perhaps more so, as she had far more emotions running through her.  He knew that she was constantly on the alert, he could feel the occasional pounding of her heart, the tense stillness in her body as she listened to something he couldn’t hear or reacted to something he couldn’t smell.  And he knew she was hungry.  She’d been hungry for a long time, and it was only getting worse.  Her fear of leaving her tiny, helpless babies had over-ridden the hunger up until now, but her body was screaming for nourishment.  She knew, as did he, that she had to leave and find food soon.  Her anxiety upset him, as did her hunger.  He pushed his way up towards her head, using his slightly uncoordinated paws to bring himself close to her face, nuzzling her nose and eyelids, hoping to calm her and so too calm himself. 

Abruptly she stood, his body tumbled off to one side, leaving him on his back, squirming to right himself.  She nudged him upright with her nose, pushing him closer to his sleeping siblings.  She gave him a final lick, leaving a damp streak over his head and down his back, and then she was gone.  He felt alone, abandoned, bereft.  Instinct told him to cry, mew, call her back, but something else told him to be quiet, calm and await her return.  She will be back, that other sense whispered to him, reassuring him.  He would wait for her.  He tried very hard to stay awake, but the warm, sleepy pile of brother and sister called too strongly, and finally he allowed himself to curl up between them and drift into the world of dream. 

 

“The order has been changed from Capture to Elimination,” a medium built man with greying hair said.  There was an obvious note of regret in his tone. “They’ve taken this too far, we can’t afford to allow this situation to worsen,” he continued, pacing in front of two younger people, an auburn-haired woman and a tall, dark blonde man.  “The City’s Werewolf Alphas are already threatening to get involved, and that could lead to a war between the existing Packs.” 

The younger man nodded emphatically.  “These rogues have made it clear they won’t go down without a fight, or leave peacefully.  Capturing a rogue Pack of six always was going to be a problem, but these guys are real whack-jobs, it’s like they have a death wish.”

“Maybe they do,” the woman said, she was standing with her arms folded, her body tense as she faced the men.  “Werewolves are rarely the most sane of people, present company excluded,” mischief briefly crinkled the corners of her gem-green eyes as she shot the young man a ghost of a smile, gone almost as soon as it appeared, “but there’s something seriously wrong with this Pack, something more than simply the effects of Lycanthropy.”

“What do you mean Gabi?” the older man asked, halting his pacing to study her with concerned eyes.   

The woman exchanged a loaded glance with the blonde man, who nodded and widened his eyes expressively.  She drew in an audible breath. 

“I think this comes down to their self-proclaimed Alpha.”  There was a momentary silence as she glanced towards the ceiling, gathering her thoughts.  The men gave her time without interrupting.  “I got close to the one that we did manage to capture,” she said finally.  “I…” she sighed, “It’s going to sound crazy, but I felt as though I could understand him even though he wasn’t talking.  Well, not so much him as his Wolf really; I could sense his Wolf, what it was feeling and thinking.  Clearly.  Almost like it was speaking to me.”  She folded herself lithely into an overstuffed leather chair, her arms wrapped around her stomach in an unconsciously defensive position, as though awaiting ridicule.

“So what did his Wolf tell you Gabi?” the older man asked, his voice devoid of judgment.  She glanced up, if she was surprised by the man’s casual acceptance of her announcement, it didn’t show on her face.

“That his human side is a psychopath.  That the Wolf doesn’t like it but he’s not strong enough to bring the man under control.  That he just wants to be…Wolf, I guess, like other Werewolves.  He wants to run with a Pack, take down small game, fight on occasion, fuck on occasion, but not kill for pleasure.  He doesn’t want to be a part of unnecessary savagery, pain and torture.”

“And do you think the others are the same?  That the human side is in conflict with the Wolf?” the older man asked.

She nodded.  “I think, though I can’t be sure, that the Alpha is gathering others like him, other human psychopaths, and Changing them, teaching them how to manipulate their Wolf side.”

“It’s possible the Alpha’s Wolf has already come to think like him,” the younger man put in, “My Wolf responds badly to him, he’s in agreement with Gabi that something isn’t right.” 

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. 

BOOK: A Short Trip To Hell: Hellcat Series Origins Volume 1
7.3Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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