Hair of the Wolf (20 page)

He lunged forward with a snarl. Winnie stumbled backwards, and something, moving so fast it was a blur in the rain-swept darkness, smashed into the stranger. The man crashed into a Dumpster and ricocheted into the alley wall.

Winnie’s jaw dropped. Behind him he heard Jen say “Holy …” Whoever their mysterious benefactor was, he was faster and stronger than any human.

The man, now standing between them and the fallen attacker, spun around to face them; his huge leather trench coat flaring out in the darkness and slicing through the rain. He pointed at Winnie, who couldn’t see anything of his face beneath the derby atop his head, and shouted, “Stop gaping like an idiot and
run!”

All three of them heard a click, and for just a heartbeat, the world froze. Rain stood still, frozen mid-fall. The night emptied of sound. Winnie felt his heartbeat.

Thump. Thump.

Jen shifted slightly behind him, trying to look around him. Everything snapped back into focus with an eruption of light and an impossibly loud roar.

The man’s chest bulged outwards and then exploded in a spray of blood. The force of it spun him in place. Somehow, he managed to keep his feet. Blood splashed all over Winnie and he could see the first man, the one who had been about to attack them, was standing with a shotgun raised to his shoulder.

He slid back the stock with a loud
chunk,
and chambered another round. Winnie snapped his jaw shut, gulped in bug-eyed fear, then grabbed Jen’s hand and legged it out of the alley. Rounding the corner of the building, the two of them sprinted out onto the street and they heard the shotgun roar behind them as it spat out another shot.

Jen scooped Spyke out of the pocket of her wildly flapping coat, holding him tightly against her chest. She could hear his muted whimpers, barely audible over the rain’s steady assault on the city. They made it thirty more feet before Winnie stumbled to a halt and turned to face her.

Recoiling with a gasp, she pulled back. Through the tattered remains of his shirt, she could see his wounded flesh. Streaks of red were washing down his chest, running in rivulets guided by the rain. His entire face and chest were covered in red. “Oh Jesus … Winnie …” She reached forward to help him steady himself, but not in time.

“My mouth tastes funny.” He mumbled, wobbled in place, then collapsed to his knees, clutching at his stomach.

Hurts
he managed to think, through a swirl of fragmented impressions. He felt like his stomach was a bowling ball, and someone was wantonly throwing it around the glass house that was the rest of his body. Vaguely, he was aware of a girl.

A name he should know. Such a pretty girl, too. Oh yeah, Jenny. His best friend. She was saying something, but he couldn’t understand what it was, even though she was so close to him that he couldn’t see anything past her face.

Tears mixed with rain as Jen clutched Winnie with one arm around his shoulders and her other hand gently cupping the back of his head. “Please,” she cried, “please don’t die, Winnie.” She could feel his breath growing fainter as he gasped to get air into his lungs. “I love, you stupid … stay with me Winnie.”

She felt Spyke struggle out of her hand, whimpering, and snuggle between their necks as he licked at Winnie’s face, trying to make his human friend feel better.

Weird, Winnie thought, feeling a couple of light raindrops hit his face. I never noticed how pretty she is. With a last sigh Winston Bartholomew Smith, aged seventeen years, closed his eyes as his heart stopped beating.

With soaked hair creating a private shroud over his face, Jen cradled his and cried into the night.

***

Robert Crowley the 3rd

Robert splashed the last couple of steps to his friends and knelt down, gently holding Jen’s shoulder, trying to still the shaking sobs that racked her body. The talisman was burning against his chest. His granddad had warned him about this happening. Whatever the situation was, he was supposed to get everyone out of it and to his Gramps as fast as possible.

With his free hand, he texted Grandpa Bob. “Friend is hurt, but necklace hot as hell. Call police OK?”

“Jenny, hun. It’ll be okay. Robert’s here now. Chad is on his way. We need to get Winnie somewhere warm, and we’ll have my boy carry him, okay? He’s probably just in shock. But you have to lean back.” He gently stroked her hair. “You have to let me take a look at him. Help him.”

Jen nodded and sniffled, carefully easing Winnie’s limp body down to the pavement. She leaned back and tried to wipe the tears from her face with a soaked sleeve. Robert delicately picked up Spyke, scratching behind his ears and murmuring “good boy” as he handed him across to Jen. “Here, Jenny. Your dog is traumatized, he needs you to reassure him. Give him cuddles.”

She gratefully grabbed her little black Chihuahua, oblivious to the discomfort of his spiked collar digging into the tender flesh of her neck, and held him tightly to her. Spyke yipped once to his human to reassure her, then snuggled into her arms, closing his eyes and trying to find somewhere dry.

Robert examined Winnie. Being very careful to not touch his wounds, he pulled back Winnie’s tattered shirt to expose the mess below. At first it looked like a mass of blood and damage, but as the rain washed his chest clean it became obvious that there was nothing more than light damage. Robert’s brow scrunched in confusion. This wasn’t right. Winnie shouldn’t be laid out from a couple of scratches. And where had all this blood come from?

His phone vibrated and he glanced down. “No. Bring your friend to me. I can save him. Police cannot.”

Chad walked up and immediately hugged Jenny, looking questioningly at Robert. Robert smiled gratefully up at Chad. “Can you carry Winnie to the car?”

Chad nodded and scooped up the limp form of Winnie. Robert admired the ease with which he did so. Chad, a six foot tall blond Adonis, looked like he was walking straight out of the studio of an ancient Grecian sculptor.

Robert shook his head, putting an arm around Jen and walking them all back towards his car. “Don’t worry about your car, Jenny. I’ve got us covered and we’ll come back in the morning to pick yours up.”

She nodded in acquiescence and let Robert guide her towards the car. As they fought their way through the rain they heard a gasp behind them. Jen and Robert glanced back to see Chad looking confused.

He raised an eyebrow and shrugged. “He just started breathing regularly again. Still not moving though, so come on, let’s get him somewhere warm and dry.”

It was only a few blocks for them to reach the lot that Robert was parked in. The teens piled into Robert’s black Jeep Cherokee. Chad carefully and gently laid Winnie out in the back, wrapping him in blankets.

Jen smiled bravely. “That’s convenient that you keep blankets in here, Rob.”

Robert paused, choking, trying not to laugh, then glanced pointedly at Chad before looking her in the eye.

“Oh!” She blushed.

Robert fired up the engine, blasting the heat on full, then pulled out into the empty streets to take them all to his Grandpa’s house.

***

Winston Bartholomew Smith

Winnie swam in a sea of black. Echoes of his breathing reverberated around him, but he couldn’t feel any walls.

A voice spoke.

Give in to the darkness. Join us.

With a shock he realized it was his own voice. Pushing against the impulse to follow, he thought instead. The Darkness. That didn’t sound promising. Pictures of Jenny flashed in his mind.

Timidly he spoke. “Um. No, thank you.” The voice was coming from the opposite direction of the images of Jenny floating in his mind, and he refused to walk away from her.
How am I seeing one thing in my mind and hearing another from a different direction? This is very confusing.

The void pulsed, pushing against him, and laughed.

Weak little man child. I am you, you cannot resist this. Just make it easier on yourself and accept it willingly.

Winnie gritted his teeth together. “I said, no thank you. I’ll just wait here.”
Wherever here is …

Give in now, and you will be stronger. Resist, and when you finally capitulate there will be but shreds of you left.

Winnie stared quizzically into the darkness. “What’s that mean?”

Fool child. It means you will be consumed in your efforts to resist. And in that consumption, what will—

“Um, no,” he interrupted. “I mean what does capitulate mean, please?”

What? Capitulate. It means surrender, weak little one. I’m in your blood now, you cannot fight back, you must surrender!

“I said, no thank you, and I meant, no thank you. Now go away, I feel like a cat crawled into my mouth to sleep, and I’d rather not be talking to you.”

Fool. I will be back for you … count on it. You may have resisted this time, but each conversation we have I will become stronger … harder to resist.

The voice faded away, and with it the pitch of the black changed, becoming less oppressive, and slowly settled until Winnie was drifting through natural sleep.

***

Loki The Coyote

Rain and wind buffeted god and vampire as they tumbled through the air, surround by shattered glass. They hit the roof opposite Bathory’s penthouse and rolled apart. Loki was panting. The teleportation into a protected space had taken more power than he should have spent. Allowing Bathory to join the attack against his bloodline was unacceptable though.

He could smell nicotine and stale beer being drawn out of the tar rooftop as he rolled across the wet surface. Staggering to his feet, he quickly scanned for Bathory. There she was, getting up.

Loki stood up straight and snapped his fingers. Nothing happened.

Bathory threw back her head and laughed. “Out of power, Loki? I’ve been waiting for this day.”

He snapped his fingers again desperate.

Bathory didn’t wait for him to marshal his wits. She charged forward, a blur in the rain. A golden trail arced behind her.

Loki raised his arm, crossing them in front of his body. Thunder boomed as the Shears of Fate sliced through his forearms and both of them were flung back from the explosion.

Once again, Loki found himself struggling to stand back up. Golden blood dripped down his arms.

Standing in the space Loki and Bathory had just violently vacated, Lilith looked back and forth at the Vampire and the God. “It has come to this? Loki, this was nowhere in our plan.”

“How many times do I have to tell you? Your plan. Not our plan.” He pulled two threads out of his pocket, protected in his palms, and held them against the gashes in his arms.

Bathory backed up, eyeing the two gods.

“How many times do we have to go over this?” Lilith pointed at Loki. “My plan will save us all. The only deaths since we started on this course were because you deviated.”

Bathory attacked again. In a streak of light, she vanished, weaving around Lilith and sprinting at Loki. Gold arced as she slashed viciously at his throat.

This time, Loki wasn’t there. He stepped calmly to the side, as fast as the Vampire. Reaching up casually, he grabbed her wrist with his left hand and twisted. While Bathory’s body followed the new direction of force the god’s throw was pushing her towards, he threw a right hook. Her jaw shattered.

Loki threw back his head and laughed as Bathory tumbled away. Motes of gold appeared, floating merrily around him. He never took his eyes from Lilith. “Interesting fact for you. My little boost in power wouldn’t have been possible unless she had opened my flesh with those shears. The thread I used to repair myself was stolen with the permission of the life I borrowed from. Her name is Lilith.”

Bathory struggled to push herself up. It felt like half her body had been caved in by that blow.

Lilith’s eyes narrowed. “How long have you known, Loki?” She held up her hands and a nimbus of green floated from them to cover Bathory.

“I suspected all along. I’ve known for years. The real Lilith would’ve caught the little inferences I made about her not being herself. You’re her, but you are also wrong.”

Bathory lunged again, landing on empty space.

Loki appeared, nose to nose with Lilith. “So who are you? Who’s hiding using my friend’s face? Hmm?” He tapped her forehead. “Who’s really in there?”

Lightning ripped through the Night as Lilith swatted Loki’s fingers away. She laughed. “I thought you were so dense. The trails of clues I left about who I really was, only an idiot would miss them. For a moment, a brief and shining moment, I thought you weren’t an idiot. But of course, you are.”

Loki spun away from Lilith, catching Bathory’s wrist mid-sneak attack. Before he could throw her again, she locked gazes with him.

The rooftop melted away. Loki was surrounded by a lake of black fire and a crucifix pushed at his back. His limbs pulled towards the beckoning cross. “Are you kidding me? You would challenge the will of a god?”

He snapped his fingers and the scenery was ripped apart, a tempest of chaos. Bathory screamed as her mindspace shattered. The maelstrom quieted and the three were in a vast hall. The infinite wonders of space floated ethereally through the walls.

Lilith smiled evilly. Reaching forward she grabbed Loki by the neck. His eyes went wide in surprise.

“You chose wrong, Loki.” Lilith’s form rippled, replaced by a woman of blackest night. “You brought me to my seat of power.”

Nyx, the mother of night, was revealed.

Loki struggled against her grip as she raised him up off the floor. “And you, you idiot … you brought me to the hall of the gods. The one place where the infinite is contained within the finite. Here I can take my true form.”

Loki jabbed at her, landing smashing blows on her stomach and jaw. Nyx flinched, but didn’t let go. Focused on Nyx, he never noticed Elizabeth Bathory limp up behind him. Thrusting with all her force she stabbed the shears through his back, into his heart.

Loki’s eyes went wide. As the golden blades tore through his heart he
saw
. The unblooded vampire was born, and in the care of his friends rather than captured by Bathory. Able would have a new, very young brother. Ian, the werewolf born without the Gift, was safe. Each had their own path, and they were firmly set upon them. He had won.