The Lure of the Pack (12 page)

Helga spoke, her voice deep and menacing as she disrobed,
showing Von Kurst her stimulating, sexually athletic body. “Otto, I am with
you, and you are right…as always.” She growled, this time louder and more
defined, “if innocents have to be killed, to help rid us of this filth…that is
acceptable.” The female Were smiled, a dark smile, not the smile of the old
Helga Zeist, for this smile contained a savage intensity, an intensity to chill
the heart of any man.

But not that of Otto Von Kurst! “This is fate my dear Helga,
the two of us together, leading the Were to our own greater destiny, in a
disinfected Europe.”

Slowly, sensuously, Helga began to undress her lover,
unbuttoning his shirt, then his trousers. “I want you naked,” she whispered and
soon he was. She took his hand and led him to the bed. Gently she lowered his
body onto the sheets and mounted him, his fully engorged penis ramming into the
moist dampness between her legs. She leaned forward, her exquisite breasts
lowering to Von Kurst’s face, “suck my nipples Otto, lick them, bite them,
TORMENT ME!” He did so, their lovemaking becoming ever more intense, their
bodies writhing in unison. With a mixture of sexual screams and blood curdling
roars, the two Were became as one, their strengths entwining as Von Kurst
penetrated his lover further and further. The two human wolves revelled in
their lovemaking, totally oblivious to the scenes behind them on the television
screen as another news reporter, this time in Rotterdam, reported hearing gunshots
near the marching crowds. “And what of the lone one?” gasped Helga, her body
riding Von Kurst’s with sensual rhythm, “he threatens us…he threatens all our
kind.”

Von Kurst pushed further into her body, enjoying his heated
climax, “he will pay

dearly…my love,” his voice, just a whisper.

“When Otto, when?”

“Soon…very soon.”

With their orgasms spent, their bodies drained and tired,
but not their minds, Helga gently released herself from their copulation and
rolled over to her lover’s side. “How do you know this?” she asked.

“I have seen him in my dreams, screaming in agony, begging
for mercy,” Von Kurst smiled then laughed, a sadistic, vile sound.

“And who will make the lone one…beg for mercy?”

Von Kurst turned his face to meet Helga’s. “Lana will,” he
whispered.

“CEATA Followers are now well attached,” said Colonel Mann,
“Von Kurst and Oratz aren’t going anywhere without us knowing.” The CEATA
Senior Command team, including Tim Winters, were once again in Commander
Hertschell’s office, ready for further discussion and planning.

“This is crazy,” a very annoyed Nick Lucas wanted to make
his feelings known, “why don’t we just arrest the two of them now and have done
with it?”

“And what then Nick?” Piper’s simplistic question caught his
friend off guard.

“Well… we get to the truth, find out who these grenadiers
are and arrest them!”

“Nick,” Piper felt like shaking his head in dismay, but
didn’t want to hurt his friend’s feelings, “it’s not that simple. If we arrest
Von Kurst and Oratz, there is no telling what could happen. I guarantee you he
will have a failsafe scenario planned with his so called, grenadiers.” Nick sat
speechless as Piper continued, “think about it Nick, there are probably well
over one hundred of these highly trained terrorists across Europe, and no one
knows who they are, or what they look like. If we arrest Von Kurst they will go
to ground and lord knows what they would do next. No Nick, there’s far more to
this than meets the eye. We have to find out more about Von Kurst himself, that’s
why I need your help to get me into the cocktail evening at VKE’s Dusseldorf
offices.”

Nick nodded his head, “yeah, I guess you’re right Ash.”

“As for the warehouse facility,” Colonel Mann intervened,
“Field Agents 022 and 031 are both in position. They will keep watch on any
movement regarding Building Four. If there’s any hint of trouble we can order a
stationed Team Echo detachment in there within minutes. But at present, we let
Von Kurst make the next move.”

“He won’t make any moves regarding the warehouse facility
Colonel,” Piper sounded very sure of himself, “at least not for the moment.
Believe me, we are a thorn in his flesh and he doesn’t even know who we are.
No, there will be no movement at the warehouse!”

“You seem very sure of yourself with regard to these matters
Sergeant,” Jeanette Descard’s singular tone of voice brought Piper’s face
instantly to hers.

“You must trust me with my feelings Doctor, the wolf speaks
a great deal to me now.”

“Yes, I’ve noticed Sergeant, but there is something else
that’s troubling me.” The room fell quiet, “I must ask you about this sixth
sense you seem to have developed. Do you think these creatures, these
werewolves, also have this sixth sense?”

She’s delving at something thought Piper, I know that look
in her eyes. “Yes Doctor, I do!”

“I’m sorry Ash, but is there anything else on your mind
regarding this…sixth sense?” Piper was surprised at Jeanette’s use of his first
name. “You see, I have noticed that you don’t seem to be sleeping too well, and
you’ve seen the medics regarding the headaches you keep getting, haven’t you?”

Clever girl, thought Piper.

“I didn’t know anything about headaches,” Colonel Mann
sounded irritated.

“The headaches have ceased Colonel, they were nothing out of
the ordinary.”

“Really?” Jeanette sounded openly sarcastic as Piper looked
at her intensely. Just what the hell are you getting at Doctor, he thought?

“Ash,” again, the use of his first name, “I think you are
hiding something from us. I know about your headache when your team assaulted
Bescann’s farmhouse. This sort of thing is happening a little too often, isn’t
it?”

Grim faced, Piper turned to Tim Winters.

“Sorry mate, I had to report the incident!” Winters shrugged
his broad shoulders, “I just thought there was something strange about the
timing of it, and you did look like shit!”

“Fair enough!” Piper’s thoughts quickly became jumbled.
Should I tell them about the dreams, he asked himself?

 “Well, Sergeant?” Commander Hertschell’s stern voice pushed
Piper into making his decision.

“Yes sir, there is something else you should know.”

It was the reflection of the full moon that caught Jurgen
Falck’s and Fritz Kempler’s blood red eyes as they gracefully loped over to the
stream, lowered their imposing wolf forms and began to drink. The stream’s
water was ice cold, like the glow from the moon. For even with their blood red
field of vision, the ever-present globe in the star lit night sky still looked
as beautiful as ever as it gleamed steadfastly amidst the forested canopy where
they stood. They drank further then stopped, lifted their heads and scanned
their surroundings, the chilled water dripping from their snouts as they began
to sniff the still night air. The mist thought Falck, it has returned, the cold
white mist. It often appeared in their dreamscape, swirling all around them.

Then it began…the howling…another wolf, mournful, ethereal
and very close. Falck turned his furred head to Kempler’s. They growled then
whined together in unison, the urge falling upon them to resonantly reply, to
reverberate their night calls to their friend and leader…their Fuhrer.
Gracefully lowering their pointed ears and lifting their heads in celebration
of their communication, they sang into the night. Like the howling they were
answering, their song was mournful, ethereal and most of all…eternal, for their
wolf song had echoed through Europe’s forests for many years. Many long years.

They continued the calling through their dreamscape, as the
reply drew ever closer.

“So are you telling us Sergeant, these creatures, these
werewolves, are actually communicating with you…in your dreams?” Colonel Mann’s
face had a look of intrigue about it.

“Oh shit man, this is spooking me out!”

“Quiet Nick!” said the Colonel.

“Yes sir, that’s precisely what I’m telling you. I see them
and hear them…in my dreams.”

“A psychic link,” muttered Jeanette, “they can communicate
with each other, in a dreamlike state.” She stared at the Colonel, then at the
Commander.

“Precisely,” Piper sat back in his chair, waiting for the
next question.

“These dreams, Sergeant,” the Commander took over, “tell us
about them, what have you seen and heard?”

Piper paused. He started to sweat, his thoughts racing back
to the surreal visions he had recently encountered. “There are three main
aspects which trouble me sir, namely, a woman’s voice inside my head. I feel
the woman is sick, but she never shows herself. She sounds gentle…caring…she
asks me not to hunt…”

“To hunt,” Commander Hertschell interrupted, “what do you
mean Sergeant, to hunt?”

“It is a feeling inside me sir. Fate is bringing me face to
face with the one I must hunt.” The senior team members of CEATA gazed at each
other, disbelief written across their faces as Piper continued. “Secondly, two
wolves, powerful beasts, hunting me, and then there is the other…third wolf,
the most powerful of the three. This wolf…” wiping droplets of sweat from his
brow, Piper paused, “…wants revenge!”

“Tell me about the wolves,” said the Commander.

“The two together radiate a presence of extreme menace. My
initial thoughts tell me they are highly disciplined, well trained men, with a
possible military background. They are waiting for me or someone around me.”
Piper began to feel nauseous, “they are ready for the hunt.”

“The hunt Ash, tell us more about the hunt!” asked Jeanette.

“Yes…the hunt…” whispered Piper, “the taking of life, it is
a symbol…” Piper stopped talking, his eyes swiftly becoming bloodshot, his
voice rising, “…OF OUR KIND!”

“Oh my God!” Jeanette pushed herself back into her seat as
an intense feeling of fear rushed through her body.

Piper’s voice was now a yell, but low, monotone and
menacing. With seemingly brutal force he smashed his right fist down on the arm
of his chair. “THE HUNT IS OUR RITUAL, A WAY OF REJOICING IN OUR FORM. TO HAVE
THE FEELING OF THE HUNT COURSING THROUGH OUR VEINS IS…” he leaned over and
vomited.

“ASH!” Jeanette sprang from her chair, so too did Tim
Winters.

“Okay Ash, take it easy,” Winters and Descard helped Piper
up.

“Get him some water,” Colonel Mann looked openly shocked but
was not prepared to stop pushing his new field agent, he wanted further
information and was determined to get it. “Sergeant, I realise you are not
feeling well, obviously this has something to do with the possible psychic link
you have with these creatures, but you must continue. Do you understand?”

Piper wiped away the bile from his lips and drank the water
given to him by Jeanette, “yes sir…I understand.”

Hastily, the Colonel cast a furtive gaze towards Doctor
Descard. Yes, he thought, there’s that look again, “continue Sergeant!”

“The third wolf is the largest, the most powerful. At first
it asked me to join them, but my feelings and my training won’t let this
happen. These creatures kill for pleasure; that is part of the hunt. When they
feel the urge to kill…they will, either human or animal.”

“Shit, now I’m feeling sick!” Nick slowly shook his head,
his face rapidly losing colour.

“Nick!”

“Sorry Colonel.”

Piper continued, “the single wolf! I saw it again, behind
the entrance door at the warehouse. It was as if…” he paused, his voice just a
whisper, “he was waiting for me, knowing I would come face to face with him.”
Then Piper roared with intensity, the reverberating, unholy sound of the wolf
making Jeanette jump again. “I MUST HUNT HIM,” he yelled, “I MUST KILL HIM!”

“WHO SERGEANT,” shouted the Colonel, “WHO IS THE WOLF YOU
MUST KILL?

“VON KURST,” yelled Piper, “OTTO VON KURST!”

The mist had cleared. The two large wolves wagged their
tails in joyous celebration, for their true alpha, the pack leader had returned
once again…into their dreams. Now the gentle flowing stream not only reflected
the moon, but three markedly large, magnificent wolves.

“My friends, it is good to speak again.” The voice of Otto
Von Kurst entered the minds of Jurgen Falck and Fritz Kempler as the largest
wolf faced his companions.

“My Fuhrer, as always your presence is an honour,” Falck
replied.

The larger wolf continued to talk, his voice drifting
through the Were’s dreamscape, “Jurgen, Fritz, the time has come. I did not
think I would require your assistance so soon, but the lone one will not join
us, that fact is certain.” The other two wolves peeled back their snouts and
growled, their razor sharp canines gleaming in the moonlight. “The war we require
will soon begin, but I need your talents my friends, on Thursday evening. You
know where to find me, report to my office in Dusseldorf on Wednesday at 12.00
noon.” With a resonant snarl the large wolf turned and walked back into the
dark forest, eerily vanishing from sight.

Jurgen Falck’s Were form shook visibly, then awoke from its
slumber as sunlight filtered through the treeline. Slowly, he opened his blood
red eyes and pulled his lupine form off the leafy forest floor, then, with a
terrifying, hideous growl he lifted his canid body onto his hind legs,
outstretched his fur-laden arms and claws and howled like never before. Within
seconds, Fritz Kempler had joined him, their dark sinister wolf song carrying
through the thick canopy of trees, drifting through the air, travelling ever
onwards. Once again their Fuhrer required the expertise of the two Waffen SS
veterans.

So be it, thought Falck! It is time to kill again!

“Jean-Paul,” Commander Hertschell spoke calmly on his
hands-free internal telephone, “is there anything new to report regarding the
marches.” Everyone in the Commander’s office listened intently.