Silver Stake (The Werewolf Hunter Chronicles Book 1) (7 page)

Not far from
Maya’s side a door opened and she heard Cole say ‘Hurry’ and in came Kate and Ollie.  Ollie and Cole guarded the door as Kate gathered people and led them toward the exit.

“Come on, quickly, you can get out over here,” she called.

Maya scrambled back to her feet and wacked The Lord Alpha in the jaw with the front of her hand.  His head snapped back and as he recovered he sneered at her.

“You think you can stop me?” he spat, and thrust his knee towards Maya’s stomach.  She didn’t quite manage to dodge in time, and the knee caught her on her waist, deflecting the worst of the impact.  She retaliated with a head butt to his chest, and he fell back against a crumbling wall.

∞

Isabelle fell on her back and a ragged man advanced, shedding his cloak and morphing into a grey wolf.  It snarled, and then pounced, landing heavily on her chest.  Isabelle whimpered and tried to push him away but he was too heavy.  He leaned forwards, his face contorted and his teeth extended.  Isabelle squirmed.

Kate caught sight of what was going on and shouted, “Hey!”

As the wolf turned, to snarl at her, she chucked a water bomb in his face.  It exploded, soaking the wolf’s head, and splattering Isabelle.  The wolf’s face started to smoke, giving off the smell of burning flesh, and the werewolf made a high pitched yelping sound, and while it was distracted Isabelle pushed it off.

“Th-th—”

“This way,” Kate said, and ushered Isabelle toward the exit.

“Come on, hurry up please,” said Cole, as the students trapped in the church fled.  He moved away from the door.  “Have you seen Maya?” he asked Kate.

A black and white werewolf jumped him from behind and pinned him to the floor.

∞

The Lord Alpha changed all the way into a wolf, sleek and black.

“That’s more like it,” said Maya.  “Much more pleasing to the eye.”

She leapt forward and managed to slash his muzzle with her stake.  The wound steamed and The Lord Alpha snarled, but he seemed otherwise unaffected.  He leapt forward and Maya dodged out of the way, but as she turned he caught her on the side and knocked her down.

∞

Cole struggled to get the werewolf off him.  He grabbed the silver cross from his chest and pushed it against the wolf’s paws, but the wolf just bared its fangs at him, the cross merely delaying his attack.

“Take this!”  Kate came up behind the wolf and smashed a water bomb over its head.  “Get away!” she shouted, and as the werewolf turned to look at her, Kate smashed another water bomb in its face.

The werewolf squealed as its fur and eyes started to burn, and Cole pushed it away.  It ran off into the shadows.

“Where’s Ollie?” Kate asked.

“Gone to look for Will, I think.”

∞

Maya struggled against him, and The Lord Alpha snarled, a sick predatory look in his eyes that made Maya’s throat seize up.  She tried to push him away but his muscles were like rocks and—

Another wolf collided with The Lord Alpha, and the two wolves rolled in a heap off of Maya.  She jumped to her feet and advanced, as the wolves scrapped.  The new wolf was a pale brownish blond, and she wondered … could it be that guy?  A wolf helping her.  How novel.  She raised her eyebrows and stepped closer, looking for an opening back into the fray. 

The Lord Alpha rolled onto his back, with the other wolf on top, and stuck his fangs into the leg of the blond wolf.  As the wolf yelped Maya jumped forward, instinct driving her, and she struck with her silver stake.  The silver slid through fur and skin and flesh, and then penetrated The Lord Alpha’s heart.  His amber eyes widened and then the sizzling began in his chest.  Maya whipped the stake out and stepped back to watch him burn.  The blond wolf limped off towards the door.

“Thank you,” Maya murmured.

“Noooo!” came an anguished cry. 

The old werewolf, his face burning with anger, ran at Maya.

“The Lord Alpha!  He’s dead!” someone shouted.

“Get out of here before she kills us all!” someone else shouted.

“He’s gone!” Maya heard.  But her attention was on the rain of thumps coming her way.  She blocked and looked for an opening to strike back.

Suddenly she was splashed in the face by a water bomb.  “Hey!” she shouted.  But then another water bomb hit the werewolf and she understood.  “Ohh,” she said, as he begin to smoulder, and she looked behind him and another water bomb sailed through the air and smashed on the back of his head.

He screamed and Maya used the fact he was distracted to drive the silver stake into his chest.  He melted in a pool of acid, scorching the ground.

“Hey, Maya, help me with these ropes!” Ollie yelled.

Maya looked up, pumped with adrenaline, dazed with success, and spotted Will tied to an overturned chair.  Ollie was pulling out the cloth from his mouth.

“Are you all right?” Ollie said.

He nodded.  “Dry mouth,” he said, huskily.

Maya pushed his chair upright and cut the ropes with her stake.  Ollie whipped the ropes away and helped Will climb to his feet.

“Will!” Kate screamed, and threw her arms around him.  He winced.  “Oh sorry, where are you hurt?” Kate said, hastily pulling back.

“Just my arm.  I’ll be OK.”

“They’ve all left,” said Cole.

“Chickens,” said Ollie.  “Scared of Maya.”

“Ha!” said Maya.  “That’ll teach ’em to mess with us, don’t cha think?”

Will laughed.  Everyone exchanged a glance and then they started chuckling too.

Maya glanced around at the wreckage of the church, and down at the scorched ground, then she beamed at her new friends.  “Let’s get outa here.”

∞

Rain hammered down outside Cole’s living room window.  Cole, Maya, Kate, Ollie and Will sat snuggled onto his soft furnishings.  They were all quiet and thoughtful, and sipped at hot cups of tea.

“It seemed so normal at college today.  Nobody said anything about it,” Kate said.

“I saw Lewis’s parents going into the head teacher’s office,” said Ollie.

“Do you think they know?” Kate said.

“They will soon enough,” said Maya.  “Poor guy.”

“To Lewis,” Will said, holding up his drink.

“To Lewis,” everyone said, and they all clinked mugs, then fell back into silence.

“I hope next time nobody gets hurt,” Maya muttered.

“I’m sorry,” Ollie said.  “But you think this will happen again?”

“It’s inevitable,” said Cole.  “I can already feel that something else is on its way … and it may not be werewolves.  The world is full of remnants of forgotten lines … demons, vampires, witches, faeries … who knows what we will be facing next.”

“Faeries?” Ollie said.

“Yes, mischievous things they are.  It’s my job to predict what’s coming and help prepare—”

“Yes, we know, we know,” Maya said, smiling at Cole.  “Next time we will be prepared.  To us meeting some faeries next time,” she said, raising her mug.

“To faeries,” they all chimed in.

“And, oh, what the hell.  To staying alive.”

The End

If you enjoyed ‘Silver Stake’ you might also like ‘Gateway to Faerie’, by M.D. Bowden. 

A gateway has opened to the land of Faerie. Can one girl close the portal in time to protect her world from the destructive powers of darkness?

Set two hundred years after the world has been destroyed by a terrifying faerie invasion, Fayth Blackman is busy studying for her final exams. She has no idea that a gateway has opened to the land of Faerie and that dark haunting creatures are filtering through into her own world. But then tragedy strikes and her life turns upside down. She finds out that she is the descendent of a powerful faerie, and that the key to closing the gateway is in her blood. She must embark on a dangerous quest to find the Bell Stone, and with it stop the world from being destroyed once more. But can she make it in time?

Follow Fayth on her quest for the Bell Stone in 'Gateway to Faerie.'  Keep on turning for a sample . . .

I felt so
alive this morning when I woke up, now I feel awful.  My head is pounding and my muscles aching after a hard training session with my father. 

He’s at work now and I am left alone to study, but it’s tricky with this stupid headache.  I wish it would leave me alone so I could concentrate. 

I stare down at my text book, not taking in the words in front of me.  It’s a history volume, exam’s next week.  I
really
must focus.  I get the general topic, but it’s the details I’m fuzzy on, the bits that matter when it comes to the test. 

The ridiculous thing is, this is what I should be good at—my dad has explained it to me enough times.  The thing is, I switch off as soon as he starts talking about history. 

He is a history professor, well, more of a researcher really, although he does give the occasional lecture.  It’s probably that which puts me off, the serious tone he adopts as soon as he starts talking about
his
favourite subject, the faraway look in his eye. 

He says that this stuff I’m learning is a load of crap anyway, that the real reason the planet is now so empty, so lacking in crowds and communities, is far darker.  

Far scarier. 

It’s not in the history books because if people knew the truth they wouldn’t be able to go about their day to day lives, they would just be too freaked out, and what is left of society would crumble. 

That stuff is easier to remember, because it’s real.  Learning history that I know is fake does not come naturally to me.

I shift my bum, trying to get more comfortable on the granite rock I’m perched on, and stretch my back, before refocusing on the book on my lap. 

The book is made of bleached white paper which is still crisp and smells fresh.  It’s one of the newest ones I own. 

My father says it’s important that I learn this stuff so I can get a decent job, like him, and that I never tell anybody what he’s told me. 

I don’t know what would happen if I did. 

What I do know though, is that if I don’t pass my exams, if I can’t get a job, the government won’t help me.  I will have to look after myself. 

That’s why I’m out here sitting on this uncomfortable stone.  I am hoping some kind of animal will approach the bait; freshly cut carrot I grew in our garden.  I’ve laid it out in a secluded corner that’s protected by rocks and ferns, and in my direct line of sight. 

I’m hoping to catch a rabbit, as they’re my favourite.  Then I can kill it and we will have meat for dinner. 

My dad has taught me well, and I hunt frequently, so at least if I don’t get a job I will be able to survive, I will be able to eat, and stand up for myself in a fight.

Unfortunately nothing is approaching the bait yet, so I return my attention to my book, rubbing my temples as I do. 

I force myself to read the words on the open page . . .

~

‘In the year 2046 the government of England refused to play a part in the war that was rapidly consuming the European nations, having spread from the Middle East.  The leading party, Labour, thought that if it abstained from action it would not be a target. 

The war spread quicker than anyone could have imagined, governments losing control as chemical agents started to be employed as the weapon of choice by multiple countries. 

Nobody knew who was in control anymore, or who the enemy was. 

Paranoia spread, and it wasn’t long before France started to suspect that England was collecting their own supply of noxious nerve agents, and grew fearful that they would be the target, as France had recently destroyed the cities of Spain and Germany with nuclear weapons.’

~

I glance up at the bait, and around at my surroundings—water trickling around mossy boulders and flowing softly over the stream-bed, and the lush summer leaves overhead, gently moving in the wind.

Any excuse for a break. 

No sign of life yet so I refocus on the book in front of me.

~

‘England had not been accumulating weapons, but that did not stop France. 

In 2046 France fought Scandinavia, defending itself against the repeated attacks it had suffered.  After months of small invasions, they had still not won, so once again they deployed more nuclear weapons. 

After France had taken down the countries surrounding it on land, it turned its full attention to England and targeted London with a powerful nuclear bomb. 

Survivors from neighbouring counties fled, but many were suffering the effects of radiation sickness, and millions of people died.  Those who didn’t die fought each other for food, and anarchy spread through the country. 

No-more attacks came from the government in France, who were themselves destroyed in an attack originating in Asia. 

However, the damage was already done.  The majority of the English governing party had been killed, and imports had stopped due to the fighting that was still rife in China and America. 

Countless people died in a struggle to gather food as a famine took hold, and many died of starvation.’

~

I squeeze my eyes shut and rub my temples again, and look back towards the slices of carrot.  I stare at them, only half seeing what’s before me, as I think about what I’ve read, and why I find it so hard to remember it all. 

It’s the dates, I think.  Dates that are so long ago, and countries I’ve never been to. 

I’ve never been anywhere beyond where I travel on my own two feet, and occasional trips by train to the city of Exeter, where my father works, where he is now.  It’s one of the few remaining cities in England. 

That’s as far as I’ve ever been, and it only took about twenty minutes to get there. 

No-one goes abroad anymore, how would they?  More to the point—why would they?  Europe is in ruins.  There are no-longer beautiful cities with outstanding architecture.  They are all gone, ransacked and deserted. 

Of course, some people do still live there, but they are said to be savage and murderous. 

No-one could afford to go further afield, and anyway, no-one even knows much about America or any other continents these days.  I certainly don’t.  I read somewhere that a long time ago people used to travel to other countries all the time, but that world has ceased to exist. 

Everybody still feels the after effects of the war, still lives in the world that was left behind.  It just wasn’t the war in my book.  Far from it. 

It was the war against Faerie. 

The faeries that came from another world, another dimension. 

Dad says that there is some truth in the made up history, in the sequence of events, the countries that fell first.  Only they didn’t fall to nuclear war, they fell as faerie after faerie came through the gate that had opened to their dimension, like a portal that had got jammed wide-open, and no-body could shut it. 

The world was overcome, one country at a time, as these faerie’s trashed houses and killed the people within.  They torched cities, possessed people, controlled them, exchanged babies for changelings, and made people do bad things. 

Dad says that these things did happen on the dates in my book, but they are still meaningless to me—this all happened over two hundred years ago!  And anyway, what does it matter if I remember some stupid dates or not, or know which countries fell first?  It won’t make things any better now. 

Dad says that the gate got closed in the end, somehow.  That’s what he’s researching, well, one of the things.  He found some ancient papers at the university that describe the faerie invasion, and dad is trying to find out how it ended, in case it ever happens again. 

He thinks we need to be prepared. 

That’s why he trains me so hard, why he’s always pushing me to do better.  If it happens again he doesn’t want me to suffer the same death that millions before me succumbed to.  He wants me to live. 

In fact, he’s been talking about it more and more recently, pushing me harder than ever.  It’s almost as though he believes something bad is going to happen soon.

My eyes snap into focus as the ferns, near the bait I set, move apart.  A soft grey rabbit pushes his nose through and approaches the carrots. 

I stay stock still as he looks up to check that it is safe, before lowering his mouth and starting to nibble on the food. 

I slowly slide the gun out of its belt and point it at the chewing ball of cuteness, then fire.  A net launches from the barrel and wraps itself around the creature. 

I jump to my feet, letting the gun fall to the ground, and pounce on the wriggling rabbit before it breaks free.  I draw back a corner of the net and, taking a deep breath, stick a hand in fast, getting a firm hold around its belly to stop it squirming free. 

Its fur is soft beneath my hands.  I feel a moment of regret and I hesitate, inadvertently allowing the rabbit another attempt to escape.  I grip it tightly again, take a short pause, take another deep breath, quickly reach for its neck, and snap. 

I cringe. 

I hate doing that, but I know I have to if I’m going to have meat for dinner.

I pick up the net and fold it carefully into the correct position for using again, then get down onto my knees next to the gun and insert the net back into the barrel.  I slip the gun into my belt for safekeeping. 

I wipe the thin layer of perspiration from my forehead and take yet another deep breath to steady myself.  I did it.  My father and I will have rabbit for dinner. 

It would be even better if we had two. 

I decide to leave the carrot in place, and try for a second bunny, but first I need to put the dead one somewhere cool so it doesn’t go off in the heat. 

I rustle in my pack for my cool bag, finding it folded at the bottom beneath my other book and supplies.  I pull it out and shake it open, before gently placing the body of the rabbit inside. 

I pick up my history book and slide it into my pack, along-side a maths one, and squeeze the cool bag back in too, before strapping the bag closed and shrugging it onto my back.

I glance down at the carrot, hoping I don’t miss an opportunity to catch one while I’m gone, then I head off further from home. 

I’m walking in the direction of a cave where I have set an old metal box for the express purpose of storing any animals I catch.  It’s not far away, ten minutes down-stream, set back in an enormous rock, and surrounded by boulders, trees and ferns. 

The path stays close to the stream as I go.  It is rocky so I keep glancing down to make sure I don’t trip. 

As I walk I think back to my earlier training.

My dad shakes me awake, “Fayth—time for action!” he compels me.

Ugh, how does he have this much enthusiasm, so early in the morning? 

As my senses kick in I smell potatoes frying on the stove, and my stomach grumbles.  This is enough to make me open my eyes, just as my father starts to shake my arm a second time. 

I see his face before mine, in shadow in the early morning light, his mouth crinkling into a genuine smile, and deep chocolate coloured eyes radiating warmth. 

He leaves the room and I hear him return to his cooking, as I push myself to my elbows and stifle a yawn. 

This happens every other weekday.  My dad wakes me ridiculously early so we can eat breakfast together, and then train, all before he leaves for work and I set out for school. 

That was until recently anyway.  As I’m approaching my final exams, and I don’t have to go to any-more classes, I am left to revise at home. 

After the exams I won’t have to ever return to the school again.  I grin.  The joy this brings me releases a surge of energy, enough to finally motivate me to clamber from beneath the covers, quickly wash and dress, then jog down the stairs—reaching the kitchen just as my father is placing my eggs and potatoes on a plate. 

There is already a glass of cool milk beside it, so I give my father a one armed hug as he dishes up his own food, before sliding onto a stool and tucking into mine. 

It is warm and deliciously fresh, the eggs are from our own chickens, the potatoes dug up yesterday from the garden. 

We exchanged surplus eggs for milk with Ewan Ford, a friend of dad’s.  The only thing we had to buy for this meal was the cooking oil. 

As I finish my food I look up to my dad.  He hasn’t even sat down, but is leaning back against the counter, tucking in as he stands, watching me with a thoughtful frown.

“What is it?” I ask.

He swallows his food and takes a drink of milk before answering.  “Just thinking about your future—what you are going to do after your exams . . .”

My feelings darken.  It’s all very well being happy I will no-longer have to go to school, with its practically totalitarian regime of work, silence and punishment, but that doesn’t mean that whatever I do next will be any easier.  That I will even find
anything
to do.

I shrug, assuming he’s not expecting an answer, and glug back the last of my milk.