Feral (38 page)

“Holy shit, Thale!” Peyton exclaimed.  “Bite him again!  Go for the cojones!” 
Might I mention that while Peyton sucked at sports, she was, however, very good at cheering people on, and very inventive with her encouragements.  “Rip them off—we’ll make a pouch out of ‘em!  No, we’ll stuff ‘em in his mouth when we bury him, and cram his face in his ass!  Yeah!”

This did
have its drawbacks.  I really pissed Alec off.

“You,” he seethed, spittle flying from the corners of his lips, “just made a big fucking mistake.”  Gross.  Just gross.  (And frankly a little frightening.)

His change wasn’t close to swift or graceful.  He was the personification of every horror movie created.  If I had to guess, worse even than Marcus’s transformation, though I never actually watched him change.  I promise you, the sounds were bad enough.  I had nightmares over it for weeks.  Unfortunately, I now had the visual to accompany it.  If I had my Berretta, I might’ve shot him just to put him out of his misery.  (Yes, it was that bad.)

Not
so completely enthralled with the carnage in front of me that I forgot the quandary I was in, I used his shortcomings to my advantage and put my tail to the exit.  I didn’t know much about fighting, but I knew enough to keep myself from being backed into a corner.  I was sure that I could outrun him if I had to, which I was seriously considering at this point.

He really wasn’t any more impressive as a wolf than he was as a human.  He fur was tan with speckles of
chocolate and white.  It was on the thin side, and patchy is areas, much like his receding hairline, if a wolf could have one.  His muzzle was dusted with gray, and his chin and jowls were slightly excessive, giving him an overall aged appearance, just short of cataracts.

This in no way diminished his level of intimidation.

He still had a keen eye and a sharp set of teeth.

Now would’ve been the perfect time to cede to my wolf
.  I could’ve slept through this whole event, in a manner of speaking, and woke up when it was over, no worse for wear.

Naturally passive,
I was never one to throw the first punch.  (Michael and Icarus withstanding.)  So we stood growling and intimidating each other for what felt like several minutes, but in reality was only a few seconds.  When he clearly bored of this, he made his move, and we erupted in a tempest of snaps and snarls.  I allowed my instincts to override my thoughts, and let my baser side come forward.  This proved to be successful on my part.  I wasn’t winning, but I was holding my own.  He still had experience and weight on me.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, something told me it was all too easy.

My fears were confirmed when he locked onto the scruff of my neck and gave it a good shake.  (It was much more like an alligator initiating a death roll.)  I yelped despite myself, falling back when he suddenly let go.  A split second later, I realized Bennie had abandoned the safety of his stall, and put to use the sharp end of the rasp.  (I think there was a wooden handle encasing it at one time, but it now made a wonderfully pointy weapon.)  Alec let out a yelp of his own, evening the score, one to one.  Still, I didn’t like Bennie taking chances.

Watching Alec’s teeth come within a hair’s width of Be
nnie’s arm, I charged.  Embarrassingly enough, yes, I bit his arse.  There are large collections of veins in this area, and by severing them, we can quickly and effective bring down our prey, even large animals like moose.  Alec, however, was not a moose.  Alec was a lycanthrope.  His body was equipped with abilities like cell regeneration to promote quick healing.  Without it, he wouldn’t survive the damage of shifting form.  As a result, my bite was nothing more than a nuisance.  A mosquito bite.  It would heal before I had the chance to make the next.  From what I understood, I would have to cause brain or spinal damage to kill him, and first I’d have to tire him out.  After that, God knows if I’d have the physical strength finish him.  I’d never snapped a neck before.

Nevertheless, it gave Bennie enough time to
retreat to his stall.

“Chill,” Bennie exclaimed when I bared my teeth at him.  “Just trying to help.”

Help by staying where you are
.  That’s what my smile-that-wasn’t-a-smile said.

“Forget his ass, Thale!” Peyton cheered.  “Go for the main vein!”

The main vein.  Was she suggesting I bite his doggy dong off?  Nasty.  Just nasty.  When I had threatened him with that very thing, I have to admit it was an incontrovertibly empty threat. If anything, I would’ve used my size nine to skyrocket his balls back into his torso, or squeezed his junk in my hands until it looked like the Play-Doh pasta maker.

While I was t
emporarily distracted with the gross visualization, Alec took advantage.  (Thanks Peyton, she really
was
useless.)  Mounting my neck, he mauled my head and ears like a teething puppy with a new rubber bone, then grabbed my scruff again when I slid out from under him.  I managed to twist away without being severely injured, and took off through the corridor.  This was ridiculous.  I found fighting this way comparable to the civil war.  What was so civil about packing your balls into a huge gun then standing in a parallel line and shooting thine enemy?  Absolutely nothing.  It was asinine.  You win wars with tactics like stealth and cunning.

Always go with your first instinct
.  That’s what my dad always taught me.  It was a myth, I know, because we studied it in science class.  But twenty five percent of the time when facing a decision, and you second guess yourself, you’ll find your first instinct was correct.  That’s a much better percentage, in my own opinion, than being one hundred percent sure that I would lose if I stayed and fought instead of running.  Plus, if Alec was busy chasing me, it would provide a long enough distraction for Bennie and Peyton to escape.

At first, I wasn’t certain that Alec followed, because as I rounded the corner of the barn, he was nowhere in sig
ht, but at the very last second I caught sight of his muzzle, those gray hairs flashing like beacons against the sunlight.  I slowed, insuring that he saw me too, and then picked up pace again, darting around the corner of a smaller outbuilding.

Spotting a rusted shovel leaning against the dilapidated chicken coop, I had a stroke of genius.  I skidded to a halt, shifted quickly, and grabbed the shovel, hiking it over my shoulder in a batter’s stance.
  As Alex bolted around the corner, I swung like the Babe Ruth, clobbering him over the head with a metallic clunk.  (Ok, maybe not that dramatically, because he was still moving.)  Bonking him over the head again, I finished him off, knocking him out cold.

I should’ve killed him, but I wasn’t a murderer.  Perhaps if I had my gun, I might feel differently because of the distance it provides, but I wasn’t a hack ‘em
, slash ‘em kind of girl.  It takes a certain kind of individual to takes a person’s life with such violence.

A sick individual.  Like Alec.

Tossing the shovel to the ground, I shifted again and headed to the barn.

By the time I made
it back, I was panting heavily.  I darted inside and shifted back to human form, praying I’d have time to change yet again if needed.

“
Let’s go!” I told Peyton and Bennie.  “Peyton, you have the keys, right?”

Fishing in her coat pocket, Peyton smiled and held up her hand, giving the keys a quick
jangle.  “Got ‘em,” she said.  “But what if he comes back?”

“I
hit him over the head with a shovel, but if he wakes up, we need to protect Bennie,” I warned, grabbing my clothes from the floor.  I didn’t dress, but bundled them in my arms.  I’d dress in the car if we made it safely away.  “We can’t let him get bitten.”

Folding all her fingers back except the first two, she saluted me.  “Swear on my life.”

“That’s a peace sign, Peyton.”

“
Whatever.  You get the point.  Let’s just go.”

“Peyton.”  This was my brother’s life we were
discussing.  I was entrusting his life to someone who stole my boyfriend.  (As terrible as he was.)

Peyton’s eyes glitter
ed repentantly.  Solemnly, she nodded.  “Swear.”

Alec was just entering the barn as
I turned for the door.  Barricading the doorway with his body, he spread his legs wide, lowered his head and bared his teeth.  With that, I dropped my clothes and shifted again.  Hackles raised, I charged toward him.  I didn’t slow.  Instead, I feigned to the right, and then at the last second, I darted to the left, shouldering past him and over the threshold.  I could only pray that he followed.

As luck would have it, he didn’t. 
It took much goading on my part before he deserted his post, having lost patience when I shifted yet again.  My lack of clothing could’ve been a key factor while enticing him away from the barn door, but if I had to guess, I think it pissed him off when I flaunted my ease of shifting.  I was right.  He didn’t take humiliation well.

He was on me like white on rice. 
Booking it, I dove, meaning to shift on the fly.  However, I didn’t anticipate the physical strain shifting multiple times would have on my body.  My stamina was running dangerously low.  My limbs felt sluggish and heavy, refusing to transform.  Hence, I found myself lying face down in the mud and dirt, defenseless against the now, very pissed Alec.

If he ever had been truly reluctant to deliver damaged goods to his customer, it was no longer a concern. 
There wasn’t a part of me he left unscathed.  He bit my legs first, until I rolled into fetal position, trying to protect myself.  My hands and arms suffered the most damage, but what hurt the most was when he sank his teeth into my hips and rear.  Karma was hell.

Bennie was right. 
It appeared Peyton did have a protective instinct somewhere deep down inside, because as much as she hated the pain of shifting, my screams goaded it into action.  Unfortunately, she was a terrible fighter.  She had no more bite than a toy poodle on steroids.  She did little more than provide a temporary distraction.  How she was able to kill Michael Dougherty, I couldn’t fathom.

With Alec
preoccupied, Bennie hurried from the barn, wielding the rasp like a sword, keeping a wary eye on Alec as he made his way over to me.  “Jesus, Thale, you said you were gonna distract him.  I didn’t think you were actually gonna let him catch you.”

“That wasn’t the plan.”

Looking over me, he searched for a place to put his hand so that he could help me up without hurting me.  “Don’t die on me.  Shit, please don’t die on me.”

“I’m not dying.”  Though
, it sure felt like it.  Only when I looked up did I notice he was crying.  “I’ll be ok, Bennie, swear.  This is nothing compared to what Marcus did.”

“You’re bleeding a lot.  A whole lot.  Shouldn’t it be stopping?”

My head went woozy then, spurred by the abrupt shift in gravity.  “I think I might faint, Bennie.”  And it had nothing to do with the sight of blood, but rather the lack thereof.  Bennie was right, I was bleeding a lot.  “I want you to go get in the car.  Run.  Now!”

“I’m not leaving you here!” Bennie cried.

“I can’t protect you if I pass out, Bennie.  I need to know you’re safe!”

Peyton let out a shrill cry, garnering our attention.  She was lying on the
ground; the only part of her moving was her heaving chest.

Alec hovered over her,
his snout wrinkled, lips pulled to show his teeth.  Blood and saliva dripped from his mouth.  Snarling, his jaw snapped audibly.

I pushed myself to my knees, and then my feet, crouching before Bennie.  If he wanted my brother, he would have to kill me first.

Behind me, I could hear the whir of an engine.  It stuttered intermittently, misfiring.  Several doors clicked open, followed by silence.  I could barely make out the sound of padding feet, but I knew my pack was coming.  I knew the sound of that engine anywhere.

Alec’s ears swiveled forward and back again.  His eyes flickered from me to Bennie
, dithering on his want for revenge and his need for survival.  Looking toward the brush behind me one more time, he chose the latter then turned and fled in the opposite direction.

Icarus was the first one to brea
ch the clearing.  He scanned the scene before him, his jaw tightening perceptibly.  “Where did he go?”

“That way,”
said Bennie, pointing in the direction Alec fled.

Caius and Bacchus
arrived next, Max a moment later, then Lucius who was the only other lycan, besides Icarus, in human form.  They stopped and perused the scene, whimpering anxiously, testing the air.  Muscles rippled beneath their coats with anticipation.

“Anyone
with him?”

“No, just him.”

“Make it hurt, boys,” Icarus said tightly, and watched his cousins coalesce then disappear in the brush.  “Check the girl,” he told Lucius, kneeling and looking over my wounds.

“She won’t stop bleeding,” Bennie said, his voice shaking.

“How many times did you shift?”

“
Six.”

Tugging his shirt over his head, he ripped it into strips and began tying them over my wounds, wadding the last large shred and pressing it over the larger lacerations on my backside.