Hair, Greg - Werewolf 03 (15 page)

Chapter 31: Requiem

Waiting at the bottom of the hill were the villagers who had been taken a couple of nights earlier, the first wave in Nicholas’ sea of destruction.

A light fog began drifting in from the loch, settling around the castle and the open field. The air cooled.

“All those people look scared to death,” said Ryker, as he, Landon, and the hundreds behind them descended.

Landon surveyed the crowd before him, noting each face. Some cried; others linked arms, as if facing down death together. Most were shaking; others stood petrified. A few fainted when Landon and his army reached the bottom, standing only one-hundred yards away. All were obviously scared.

Nicholas wasted no time in beginning the battle.

“Villagers!” he cried, from far behind his force. “Attack!”

Landon watched as Nicholas’ front ranks convulsed with fear, sweat dripping from their faces.

Nicholas said nothing more.

“They’re not doing anything,” Ryker said.

“That’s because they don’t want,” said Landon, suddenly waving his arms, motioning for the villagers to run over. “Hurry, everyone! Come with us! Come on, we can protect you!”

Quickly, all the townspeople sprinted to Landon’s side. Landon estimated close to two-hundred, then realized it wasn’t even a quarter of what Nicholas had. He had so many.

“Well, that was easy,” said Ryker.

“Yeah, it was. Does that worry you, at all?”

Landon saw Nicholas, standing about five-hundred yards away, perfectly. The first werewolf smiled.

“Something’s not right,” said Landon.

Suddenly, Nicholas gave a loud whistle, and the remainder of his entire army, in a wave, shifted, or flashed their fangs and blue vampire eyes.

The villagers that had been enclosed within Landon’s ranks, mixed and mingled in his forces, screamed, then dropped to the cold, Scottish ground.

Landon looked behind, at all the bodies that writhed and contorted among the heather.

“Oh, my God,” he said. “This is their first shift. This was planned, Ryker. He and Jamie are going to control them, and attack us from within.”

“How long do we have? What do we do?”

“About another minute.” Landon’s mind raced for an answer to the second question. “There is no easy solution. We already know what we have to do. Damn him,” he said, looking back at Nicholas, who was laughing.

From the ground, werewolves began to rise, seemingly attempting to resist, but unable to stop.

“Kill ‘em all!” screamed Landon.

His troops looked at him, as if he were crazy, then, reluctantly, did as ordered. There really was no choice.

Villagers, new werewolves, were slaughtered left and right. A few fought back, controlled mentally by Nicholas and Jamie. Landon and Ryker watched.

“Wait a minute,” said the Dane.

“I know it’s unpleasant, but—“

“That’s not what I mean.” Ryker looked back, seeing Nicholas’ army walking slowly toward them, advancing.

“Shit, he’s got us preoccupied,” said Landon.

“Charge!” Nicholas screamed, sending his forces running, werewolves and vampires at great speeds, like a great rolling tide, into Landon’s army.

Landon shifted, and roared, calling his army to battle. He then barreled through the coming onslaught, cutting a swath toward Nicholas, and Jamie.

Ryker stayed behind, bracing himself for the tidal wave heading his way. He stretched his arms in front of him, palms facing outward, when the coming crowd was only a few yards away. Then, the Consul Vampire flexed his mental muscle and, with his telekinesis, parted the sea, splitting the werewolves and vampires, causing them to continue their advancement around him, leaving his body untouched.

With one arm still outstretched, almost creating an invisible force field around him, he focused with his other hand, on his enemies. Immediately, hearts, both vampire and werewolf, began flying out of chests, their former casings running a few more feet then dropping to the ground, and flew toward the castle like cannonballs, pounding and exploding upon the gray walls.

The Dane then looked up and shot skyward, like a rocket heading for the moon. From high above the low-lying cloud below, he randomly drew his enemies toward him, through the air, ripping their throats out, then letting their bodies fall back to battle below. He looked down to see Alessandro making his stand.

Alessandro, found himself standing within a circling ring of werewolves, when one suddenly took a swipe at his torso, ripping his shirt off, leaving deep gashes in his chest. The Venetian vampire healed immediately, then crouched to the ground, eyes closed.

The werewolves saw their opportunity, and pounced, forming a mountain of moving fur and gnashing teeth on top of the Italian.

Suddenly, like an Appalachian mountaintop dynamited for removal, the mound exploded in all directions, fur-lined body parts littering the ground for a quarter-mile. Alessandro remained crouched. Steam rose from his once shirtless, now nude body, his clothes shredded and smoldering, the ground around him burning hot, and smoking.

He raised his head toward those standing before him. His blue eyes opened, a blue that had never before been seen in the eyes of a vampire, an almost unnatural blue, and blazed. Friends and enemies, alike, had paused their fighting to stare at the site of the explosion. Both groups stepped back as Alessandro arose in the thickening fog.

He then turned, away from Kilchurn, toward new enemies, and walked slowly in their direction, running his hands through their backs like jelly, removing their spines.

Annelise and Katarzyna stood back to back, encircled by a small group of vampires and werewolves—all men. The two blondes looked around them as their enemies moved closer and closer, the circle shrinking, closing in on them.

“Hey, guys,” said Annelise, “you and I don’t have to fight. I’ll give you whatever you want.”

“What?” Katarzyna asked.

“It has been a while,” said one member of the group, a thick vampire dressed in black leather, “since my boys, and I, have enjoyed the pleasure of a willing woman. And I’m very willing to give you what I got.”

“Men,” Annelise said, “always talking about what they have, and what they’re going to do with it, but never able to back up their talk. Why don’t you come show me what you got? Just throw my sister here outside the circle, and we can have some fun.”

“Okay,” he said. “Boys.”

Katarzyna struggled as multiple pairs of hands laid on her, groping her, as she was picked up and tossed several yards away.

“Don’t worry,” the gang leader said to the Polish vampire, “we’ll be back for you.” He turned his attention to Annelise, and began taking off his leather pants. “Now then, let’s get down to business.”

The ring tightened, each man facing her.

“Yes,” said Annelise. “Let’s.”

The Danish vampire knelt down as each member of the gang collapsed around her, like dominoes, all sliced in half.

Katarzyna stood outside the fallen circle, blood and pieces of flesh dripping from her hands.

“Thanks,” said Annelise. “I was hoping you’d catch on to the plan.”

“It took me a half a second to figure it out.”

“I’m glad it took even less time for you to finish them.”

Suddenly, Tsukiko appeared, running up through the mist, and reuniting Annelise with her rescuer. Katarzyna took an offensive stance.

“It’s okay,” Annelise said, “I’ve got this one.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I’ll be okay.”

Katarzyna stood down, and walked away to another fight.

“We don’t have to do this,” said Annelise. “You don’t have to do this.”

“You don’t understand. Yes, I do.”

Tsukiko rushed the blonde vampire, hitting her in the face with a right, left, right, then kicking Annelise to the ground. Tsukiko shifted and bore her teeth down on the vampire’s leg. Annelise screamed.

The Danish vampire sat up and grabbed the werewolf’s jaws with both hands. Like the Jaws of Life separating sections of a car, Annelise spread Tsukiko’s mouth open, sliding the fangs out of her leg.

Tsukiko tried repositioning, clawing at the entirety of the vampire’s body. Annelise held firm and fast. Then, with her other leg, kicked the werewolf’s side, sending her flying, yelping, into a nearby group, knocking them over like bowling pins.

Annelise, not yet healed, jumped up and ran to Tsukiko. Not giving the werewolf a chance to get up, the vampire knelt down, and began removing clumps of fur and hide. The werewolf howled in pain, then screamed as she downshifted.

“Stop prolonging it!” Tsukiko screamed. “Do what you’re gonna do, but quickly!”

“I don’t have to do it all. Please, fight with us.”

“You know, deep down inside, that I won’t. My fate ends here, today.”

“No,” said Annelise, standing. “I won’t do it. I’ve seen your true colors. You don’t deserve to die. Not anymore.”

The vampire turned to walk away, looking for a new enemy to fight.

“Oh, yes I do,” Tsukiko whispered, shifting again, and lunging at Annelise from behind.

The Danish vampire felt the change in air pressure around her, and spun around to see the dark-furred wolf flying toward her, jaws wide open.

Annelise grabbed the werewolf’s jaws with both hands, a second time, and spread them beyond their limit, cracking and breaking. Tsukiko’s body dropped to the ground, dead.

“I’m sorry,” said Annelise.

Then, upon the hill from which she and her friends had descended, she saw a familiar sight. There, standing above the fray, watching the battle, were LillyAnna and Bianca.

Chapter 32: Requiem

Landon pushed through the crowd like a bull in Pamplona, Spain. Charging toward Nicholas, only a few yards to go, Jamie suddenly shifted and jumped in front of his mentor. Nicholas took off, away from the father and son.

Nicholas stopped in his tracks, his son growling at him. The elder Murphy stared at Jamie, then turned in a different direction, moving away from him. Jamie cut him off, again, blocking his father’s path.

Landon tried a second time to avoid his son, only to find the blond werewolf confronting him, once more. He realized there was no escaping the teen. Landon reverted to human form.

“This is really what you want to do?” he asked.

The young werewolf nodded.

Landon turned into the great, red werewolf, each circled, facing each other, growling, snarling, their rows of razor-sharp fangs glistening in the morning Scottish sun.

Jamie charged his father. Landon knocked the boy to the side with one swipe, sending him rolling several feet away. The red werewolf snapped at the blond, growling fiercely. He lunged at the teen, then stopped, when Jamie stumbled backward. Landon saw that there was a level of fear in his son’s large, red eyes. However, the father had lost his patience with his son.

Landon sprang forward, landing on the smaller, yellow werewolf, ripping into him with his claws, tearing at Jamie’s fur-lined flesh. The red werewolf clamped down on the other’s shoulder, tearing a large chunk away. His son howled.

Landon reared back, having gained the upper hand, and stood erect, high above the young werewolf lying on the ground. He then came crashing down, his front paws brushing the other werewolf’s ears as they pounded into the ground. Landon’s snout touched Jamie’s as he growled at his son, then roared in his face, saliva and hot breath rolling out onto the teen’s. Landon felt his son quake, and those nearby shudder.

Landon stood again, then turned, and walked away. He grabbed the heads of enemies, and one by one, pulled them off their necks, as he walked, as if he were picking grapes form a vine.

Suddenly, without warning, he found himself on the ground, face down, his flesh being stripped and shredded down to his spine. His attacker then turned him over. There, straddling him, was Jamie.

Jamie gave Landon several swipes across the face, then reached down, into his father’s chest, and grabbed his heart, squeezing. The red werewolf’s heart burst. Landon Murphy died immediately.

Jamie Murphy stood and fell backward, shifting back to human form, exhausted. He lay there, on the soft grass, next to his father’s lifeless body. The fighting around him had stopped. In fact, he heard no noise at all. Rolling over, he looked around and saw that the entire battle had ceased.

Screams and wailing filled the air, as word quickly spread across the field of the falling of Landon. The great werewolf’s closest friends rushed to his body.

LillyAnna, from atop the hill, was next to Landon in seconds, kneeling beside him, hysterical. She shook his body, as if in an effort to wake him, and barely touched him at the same time, seemingly unable to accept the gravity of the situation.

Suddenly, Jamie felt a burning pain course through his entire body. He stood, clawing his fingernails at his flesh, his nude body spinning around.

“You’re ascending,” Nicholas said, approaching.

The teen, his back turned toward the castle, felt himself dragged by an invisible force in the direction of the fortress. His heels dragged in the soil as his upper body angled, and moved, toward Kilchurn. Everyone stood silently, watching.

Reaching the castle wall, Jamie stopped. He bent over, feeling the pain leave, his hands on his knees, and took a couple of heavy of breaths. Jamie stood back up.

“Is that it?” he called to Nicholas. “Is it over?”

Suddenly, the ground quaked, and the castle shook.

“I don’t think so,” Nicholas replied.

Immediately, Jamie was pinned against the wall, unable to move a muscle. He felt his feet slowly leave the ground, as he was pulled upward, dragged along the castle wall toward the top. He writhed with the burning that engulfed his bones.

Shifting and downshifting, human to wolf and back again, he screamed and howled, repeatedly cycling through multiple changes. Through his shifting vision of red and clear, he saw Serinda’s grave, bordering the woods. Nearby, was Bianca, atop the far hill, lying on her back on the ground, crying, her legs bent.

Jamie closed his eyes tight as his naked body was pushed into the wall, caving it in. Bits of gray stone crumbled and fell below. Further and further into the wall he went, finally disappearing within Kilchurn.

There, in the darkness, surrounded by cold stone, he felt and saw what only a few privileged others before had—the power, the force, the love, the mercy of God.

Jamie curled into a fetal position, then burst outward, still within the wall, as the entire front of the castle came tumbling down, burying him in the rubble.

“Kill them all!” screamed Nicholas, startling those around.

Immediately, the battle restarted, and the army from Venice, still vastly outnumbered, began to fall.

From far afield, Cate, the English vampire daughter of Kendrick, watched Nicholas shift and charge the first of Landon’s forces he came to, another young red-furred werewolf—Lennon, son of Finian.

Cate, with her great vampire speed, raced through the melee, running faster and faster, blurring the fighting around her. She watched, as she ran, Nicholas approach Lennon from behind, the latter distracted by his tussle with another werewolf.

She pushed herself even more, somehow going beyond her limit, feeling the friction between her feet and the ground. The earth beneath her suddenly caught fire.

Cate reached Lennon, a mere split second before Nicholas, grabbing and picking up the heavy werewolf. She felt several of his ribs break upon impact.

She finally stopped, collapsing at a great distance from the battle, a trail of flame behind her.

Lennon changed to human form. He bent over her, cradling her in his arms.

Cate, unable to lift her arms or move her legs, looked in his eyes, and smiled.

“I’ll be okay,” she said. “I just need a minute.”

“Thank you.” He stroked her dark hair as she turned her head to see Lennon’s father, Finian, smile and nod.