Predator (21 page)

It felt like she was dying.

Bree could hear Liam talking to her but couldn’t make out his words. All she knew was that the lycanthropes were closing in. She could smell them now, hear their every movement, and feel them inching closer from all sides, working together as a pack to trap their prey.

It was the end.

There was nowhere to go even if she could.

The lycanthrope soldiers surrounded them.

Two of the lycanthropes leapt out into the clearing, eyes wide and filled with hate. She could hear the others fanned out behind her. She wanted to close her eyes, but she couldn’t stop looking at the horrifying beasts the men had become.

They crept closer—it was as if the lycanthropes intended to tease her, to draw out her demise, to make her suffer every last second of her life.

Liam’s legs were his only defense. He kept shifting around, ready to take on whatever came his way. He stayed next to Bree, but it was useless.

In front of her, the lycanthropes inched closer, came at her with purpose in their eyes and bloodlust on their faces. Why didn’t they just attack? Just kill her and Liam and get it over with? Were the lycanthropes in front just a distraction? They circled and watched. Bree’s breaths came so fast and so shallow, and her chest rose and fell with such intensity, it was as though she was inhaling air through a pinched straw.

The two lycanthropes in front of Bree blurred together. The larger head of the one on the left seemed to morph on to the body of the one on the right. She tried to clear her head.

Save the research.

Save Liam.

“Get back. I’m warning you,” Liam said.

But the lycanthropes closed in, step by step, claws digging into the dirt, eyes fixed and focused.

The panic surging through Bree was so great she felt like she would explode, which might not be so bad. At least it would be over quick.

The lycanthropes edged forward until she could see each pointed tooth, the facial fur moving with each breath, and the unforgiving eyes that stared hard at her.

Bree sensed others coming out of the darkness but didn’t dare to look. Were there even more of them out there? No. It was women: Isabella and four others. The lycanthropes must have heard them; their ears perked up, and they turned their heads in the direction of the noise. The women fanned out, and the lycanthropes turned their murderous eyes back toward Bree, unfazed by this weak show of strength, ready to kill to get the flash drive.

A new energy surged through the air. Within seconds, the women transformed into big, beautiful, yet menacing beasts. Women grown so strong and resilient, women so tapped into their raw animal power, that they could tackle any problem thrown their way.

“The Benandanti,” Bree said with awe.

Everything happened so fast.

The Benandanti attacked the lycanthrope soldiers. Isabella ran at the soldier closest to Bree and pushed off with her massive hind legs, leapt through the air from a good twenty feet away, body stretched out, legs and claws extended. She landed on the soldier’s back and dug her claws in, but the soldier quickly threw her off; she hit the ground with a thud and rolled back to her feet.

Isabella circled the aggressive beast, sizing up the situation, and then leapt at him, slightly off to the side, and caught him with a swipe of her front claws. The lycanthrope soldier cried out in pain; blood stained his gray fur and ran down his leg. Instead of slowing him down, the injury increased his anger. His lips peeled back to reveal his fangs. He growled loudly before jumping Isabella, but she was quick on her feet, and his dangerous teeth clamped air instead of her neck. He hit the ground, stumbled, and quickly recovered. The others growled now too; and it seemed to Bree that they spoke to one another—it was the only thing that made sense because in the next instant a second lycanthrope soldier attacked Isabella. Liam screamed, and Bree opened her mouth to yell, but she couldn’t make a sound. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t do a thing to help. She could only watch in agony.

Helpless.

Why wasn’t the serum working? It worked for the soldiers. This version was supposed to be better. More advanced. It was supposed to protect her.

Instead it was killing her.

Somehow Isabella managed to kick off both beasts, but then they trapped her between them. They didn’t attack at first, just stood there muscles flexed and ready, jaws open.

No,
Bree thought, and tried to move again.

From Bree’s right came a terrible cry of pain. Afraid to take her eyes off Isabella, Bree didn’t turn to see if it was from one of the Benandanti or one of the soldiers. Or Liam.

The two lycanthrope soldiers attacked Isabella with mouths wide, teeth ready. One went for the neck, the other for the hind legs. But Isabella was ready too; she sprang straight at them, head perched low and over her front paws, so that she slid beneath them. The soldiers landed on empty space, and Bree sighed with relief. A quick turn and then Isabella pounced on top of the larger of the two. She snapped her teeth right into the lycanthrope soldier’s neck, and the soldier thrashed his body in an attempt to throw her off. A second later, the gray soldier rejoined the fight and grabbed Isabella’s hind leg with his paws. He matched the other lycanthrope soldier’s motions, and together their force broke Isabella’s hold. She flew off the soldier’s back and skidded across the ground and stopped next to another fighting pair.

A massive brown and black beast threw one of the Benandanti to the ground; she landed on her back with her legs up in the air. The other lycanthrope soldier, a tan beast with bits of black fur across the spine, jumped on the Benandanti, held down her neck with his front paws, and attacked her face with his razor-sharp teeth. She kicked her back legs and pushed the lycanthrope soldier off her. Then the Benandanti got to her feet and attacked. The two vied for a dominant position, circling each other, each attempting to capture the other’s neck in its jaws.

Bodies flew all around, tossed and wrestled, jaws fighting to clamp onto opponents’ necks to draw blood and hold on for the kill.

The Benandanti struggled to hold off the lycanthrope soldiers, but there were just too many of them. Two Benandanti were dead already, which left only three to fight the six bigger and stronger soldiers. Despite being outnumbered, the Benandanti continued to fight what seemed to be a losing battle.

Bree knew she’d die here just like her dad had—with her throat slashed wide open and her blood pouring out. She’d never go to college. Or get married. Or have children. And she’d never get to say goodbye to Liam.

A lycanthrope soldier released its bloody jaws from a dead Benandanti and made for Liam.

Bree screamed—a loud guttural noise, so unlike anything that had ever come from her mouth, a noise that stopped the lycanthropes as if someone had suddenly frozen them in ice, leaving only their heads to move. They all stared at Bree, ignoring the terrible battle for a moment.

And from the looks on their faces, they were horrified by what they saw.

Pain overwhelmed Bree like white-hot fire.

Her bones cracked and shifted. Her muscles stretched. She watched her hands in horror. Pain threatened to split her bones in two as claws emerged from her fingertips. She could hear for miles: the animals scurrying in the woods, the cars whizzing on the roads, a helicopter circling the sky so far away. And she could see every detail around her so very clearly.

In the space of a few seconds, she had transformed from a sixteen-year-old girl into a lycanthrope.

Not just any lycanthrope or Benandanti, but something so much more.

Bree flexed with her newfound strength. She felt bigger, stronger, and faster than the soldiers.
Incredible,
she thought in the part of her mind not swamped in rage. The formula had worked, and it was more advanced than the one the soldiers used.

Bree glanced at Liam and caught the terror in his eyes. She shoved him out of the way and then grabbed the lycanthrope soldier and threw him to the ground, pinning him easily with one paw. Without hesitation, Bree ripped her teeth through the soldier’s throat and thrashed her head, pulling muscle and skin and fur away from cartilage. Blood sprayed everywhere, but Bree kept applying pressure until she felt the life drain from him.

She was horrified yet powerless to stem the joy of the kill.

She tossed the body aside with a quick whip of her head; it hit the ground with a thud.

Three lycanthrope soldiers attacked the three remaining Benandanti. The two other soldiers headed straight for Bree, but she was ready. She dodged the first as it attempted to jump her and swiped its face with her claws, right across the eyes. The beast’s pain-filled cry was lost in the battle and it staggered off and fell to the ground, whimpering. The second lycanthrope soldier took his time before attacking. Bree assessed his every move. He shifted back and forth, as if trying to intimidate her. When he tensed his muscles, she attacked before he could. But the lycanthrope soldier reacted quickly. Just as Bree landed on his back, he reared and threw Bree up and over his body. She sailed through the air and twisted to position herself so she could land on her feet, but there wasn’t enough time before she hit the ground.

She felt the pain of impact yet knew instantly that she was unhurt and rose to her feet.

The lycanthrope soldier glanced to his left in response to his friend’s agonized cry.

Bree was glad. That noise could mean only one thing. A Benandanti had killed another soldier—two down, only four more to go. If she could take out this guy, it’d be four against three, and the Benandanti could team up. Together they could destroy the rest of the lycanthrope soldiers.

Bree moved in, hoping to force the lycanthrope soldier into making a move. When he didn’t, she raced right at him with her jaws wide open, dug her claws into his side the instant she made contact, and held on tight while she fought to gain access to his neck with her teeth.

The lycanthrope soldier was strong, but Bree was stronger. She pulled her claws from his side and surprised him with a kick to the legs. He dropped to the ground, and Bree backed up. The instant he rose, she raced forward and again attacked. He went down quickly, and Bree tore out his throat just as fast.

Elsewhere, the Benandanti had taken on the remaining lycanthrope soldiers. Bree didn’t fear the outcome but for one thing: she couldn’t find Liam. A rush of panic surged through her. Where was he? Was he hurt somewhere? Did a lycanthrope soldier kill him? No. Not Liam. He couldn’t be dead too. Not after her dad and Conor…he just couldn’t be.

Just then Bree glimpsed Liam’s head peeking out from behind a tree at the edge of clearing. She turned away quickly so she didn’t reveal his hiding place, but then she realized the lycanthrope soldiers weren’t paying attention; they were focused on the Benandanti.

The two lycanthropes closest to Bree rolled across the ground, nipping at each other’s necks and kicking each other’s chests with their hind legs. They moved so fast Bree couldn’t tell which was a Benandanti and which was a soldier. Even their scents were all mixed up. If she joined in the fray, she could kill the wrong one. What then?

Before Bree could decide what to do, two Benandanti flanked a soldier and attacked from opposite sides. One aimed for the neck and the other the back. The lycanthrope soldier had no chance, but he fought anyway. He thrashed his neck and attempted to roll them off, tried to force the Benandanti to release the sharp teeth and claws that dug into his fur and flesh. The Benandanti riding his back timed her move perfectly. When the lycanthrope soldier slowed for just a moment, she leaned over his side and disemboweled him with her claws. The move dropped him to the ground and pinned the other Benandanti beneath him, her jaws still clamped around his neck. Using her powerful legs, she threw the lycanthrope soldier off her with ease but kept her grip on his neck. Somehow he managed to cry out—a yowl that tore through the air and stopped both his team and the Benandanti in place.

The two remaining lycanthrope soldiers took advantage of the distraction and escaped into the woods, leaving the dying lycanthrope solider behind.

But Bree knew she hadn’t seen the last of them.

The surviving Benandanti also fled into the woods in the opposite direction. Where were they going? Why were they leaving her?

Bree looked back at the dead lycanthrope soldiers. For an instant she was thrilled she had helped kill the evil beings who had murdered her dad and Conor. But the power of the feeling terrified her—how could she be happy about doing something like that?

She dropped on all fours and turned toward the tree to check on Liam but didn’t see him. She tried to call him, but it came out as an anguished howl. A noise so loud and so piercing it penetrated deeply into the woods.

A minute later, Isabella and the two other surviving Benandanti stepped out from between the trees; they had transformed back into human form and Isabella carried clothes in one hand. Erin, the woman Bree had met at Isabella’s, had a dark cloth tied tightly around her forearm; blood seeped through the fabric. The other woman seemed all right, although she appeared exhausted. Bree recognized her. She was the woman from the lab, who warned them off in the parking lot and told them not to mess with the lycanthrope DNA.

“Are you alright?” Isabella said to Bree, who saw concern and kindness on Isabella’s face.

Bree nodded. Then she looked down at her own bloodied claws with an odd sense of recognition. She’d seen claws like this before—studied one in fact. She pictured it again in the peat, partially obscured by the bog body, a claw whose secrets the Benandanti were determined to protect. She gasped.
Oh God. That’s what killed and mauled the bog body?

Someone,
something,
just like her.

Bree watched the tree where she had last seen Liam. She could not see a hint of movement, not a flicker of color or the slightest indication that he still hid there. In that small moment of time, images flew through her mind: Liam’s slashed throat, his broken body lying on the ground, a blood-stained shirt, her dad’s face as he drew his last breath. Everything seemed such a blur for a while—what if she had hurt Liam? It seemed like the world dropped away around her and left her alone without hope, without love, without a reason to live. Even worse: the horror on Liam’s face as she had changed before his eyes. Then Bree felt Isabella’s hand on her head, stroking the fur. A moment later, Liam stepped out from behind the tree, and Bree’s moist eyes lit up.