Hair, Greg - Werewolf 03 (14 page)

Chapter 29: Requiem

Landon and Ryker straddled up to the bar in the crowded London club that evening.

“Welcome to Twilight Zone,” said the bartender. “What’ll it be?”

“Guinness,” Landon said.

“Nothing for me,” answered Ryker.

A few minutes later, Guinness in hand, Landon looked around the club.

Red strobe lights, clinging from the black ceiling, flashed to the fast, electronic beat, spotlighting in synchronicity the dancers below, like a thousand red suns going supernova. Every dancer on the floor performed their own ritualistic maneuvers, their sexual prelude. The animalistic grinding on the dancefloor was inhibited only by the few clothes each mammal wore. Grind partners came and went, as men and women shuffled among the opposite sex, then among their own.

Landon even noticed some partial shifting taking place, in the darkest of shadows, werewolf claws scraping the fangs of vampires, the latter drinking the few drops of blood in a sensual state of play.

Looking around the bar, he saw, at various interior intervals, stairs leading up from the dancefloor to private rooms, masked only back black curtains. Though the drapes were dark, matching the monochromatic scheme of the place, Landon could still make out the sexual interludes taking place. Sometimes, two or three from the floor would make their way up the few stairs, clearly interrupting those already using the space, yet no one exited.

Once, maybe twice, Landon noticed what appeared to be the forceful acceptance of someone’s advances, clearly a werewolf, or vampire, forcing themselves upon a mortal who found out too late the kind of bar they’d entered. He had to force himself to stay put, fighting his urge to leap to the rescue. They offender would get theirs, he’d make sure of it, but it had to wait. For just a few more moments.

“Meat markets,” Landon said, nearly yelling, over the music pumping throughout the establishment, the glass in the mirror behind the bar vibrating slightly. “That’s all these places are. I hate how things have become.”

“I know,” said Ryker. “What have we become? Being reduced to places like this where mortals think they’re in a regular bar, but are actually about to become food. There’s no pride anymore in being a vampire. Or, a werewolf, in your case. The hunt is gone. Where’s the glory?”

“Yeah, well, what’s the use in complaining? Nothing we can do about it.”

Suddenly, a middle-aged looking man sitting on the Ryker’s other side, leaned into the bar, looking at Landon.

“You guys sound like you’ve given up,” he said. “What you need is to be a part of something greater.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Ryker. “There is nothing greater. Our days of greatness our long passed.”

“That’s not true. My friends and I are on our way tonight to see a man, and a boy-king, about restoring both of our kinds to our former greatness.”

Landon and Ryker looked at each other, then turned to the man, both smiling.

“Really?” they said, in unison.

“Oh, hell yeah,” said the stranger. “A whole bunch of us are heading up to Scotland and, lucky for you it seems, stopped in here for a few drinks. You see, there’s this guy, Nicholas, and his son or something, Jamie, who are about to bring this whole fucking world to its knees. It’s gonna be so awesome. First, though, they gotta kill this asshole who’s trying to stop them. That’s actually why we’re going up there.”

“A whole bunch of you?” asked Landon. “How many are there?”

The stranger turned around on his barstool, facing the crowd, taking a drink of his beer.

“About a third of everyone you see here,” he said. “There’s about a hundred of us by now, I’d say. We started out small, but we’ve been gathering more and more on our way up through Europe. You guys seem pretty angry about the way things are. Come with us. There’s werewolves, like me, and vampires, too. You’d both be welcome. Man, I can’t wait to see the looks on this guy’s face when he sees what he’s up against.”

“Well,” began Landon, “why can’t we just take him out now? Why wait for Scotland? Hell, my friend and I could probably do it. What does he look like, he could be in here, right now?”

“I don’t know,” said the stranger. “I mean, there’s this video out, where that Nicholas guy is recruiting, but he never mentions what the guy looks like. All I know is, his name’s Landon Murphy. Even sounds like an asshole, to me. Besides, from what I hear, he’s probably got his own army coming.”

“Well, shit,” said Landon. “That sucks. I mean, what if he were in here, in this bar? We could kill him tonight. And you guys traveling all through Europe just to go to Scotland to find him. Hey, what if you did come across that guy? You’d be a hero, right? I mean, you’ve got all these people here with you, so it looks like it’d be pretty easy.”

“Oh, hell yeah, man,” the stranger said, taking another swig of his beer. “That’d be so cool. I bet we would be heroes.” He turned back around, facing the bar. “Ah, doesn’t matter. We wouldn’t be so lucky to have him show up here. If he did, though, you best believe, we’d kill him.”

“Is that right?” Landon said.

“Yeah.” The stranger finished his beer. “Well, what’d ya say? Are you guys in? You wanna come to Scotland and kill some idiot vampires and werewolves?”

Landon and Ryker looked at each other again.

“You know,” said Ryker, “I think we will go to Scotland and do just that.”

“First, though,” Landon began, “we got a line on some other idiot vampires and werewolves right here in London, that we need to take care of.”

“Shit, you guys need some help with that? Hey, I forgot to ask, what your names? I’m Claude.”

“I’m Ryker,” said the vampire, shaking Claude’s hand.

“I’m Landon. Landon Murphy.”

Claude exploded with laughter, now shaking Landon’s hand, then stopped, when he saw the other werewolf wasn’t returning the jest.

“A joke, right?” asked Claude. “You’re not really him.”

“Let me tell you what’s not a joke,” said Landon. “In about sixty seconds it’s going to get really ugly in here. I am Landon, and we started trailing you guys, for the last couple of hours, after we heard there was a new batch of recruits leaving France, heading for Kilchurn. Now, like you said, about a third of everyone in here is with you. The other two-thirds, however, plus some outside, are mine. And, if you’ll take a look around, they’re getting into position now.”

Claude looked around the club as the crowd suddenly shifted, an innumerable amount of werewolves and vampires casually taking various vantage points, encircling his people who continued to dance and drink, completely unaware of their impending doom.

Landon watched Claude turn back toward him.

“Now, you’ve got two options,” said Landon. “You can let this happen, quietly, and not take it outside, spilling into the streets. That’s actually the one I prefer. Or, you can try to get out of this, actually believing you can beat us.” Landon waited a few seconds, watching Claude stare at the floor. “Which is it?”

Then, Claude looked up.

“That one, huh?” Landon asked. “Okay.”

Chapter 30: Requiem

Claude shifted, springing from his barstool, alerting the werewolves and vampires in his cadre. Landon’s forces moved quickly, having already encircled their intended victims. Within seconds, blood showered the interior of the Twilight Zone nightclub, changing the motif from black to dark red.

Golden Earring’s song, Twilight Zone, the club’s namesake, thumped in all directions. Lights flashed and pulsated to the beat, creating a strobe effect as the creatures below tangoed to their dance of death.

Landon changed and charged, the powerful, red-furred werewolf giving chase to Claude, as the latter scaled the red-dotted dark walls, climbing toward the shadows of the ceiling. Landon didn’t bother to climb.

The great werewolf used the potent muscles in his massive legs to rocket himself to the highest point in the club, clawing his way into, and clinging to, the interior’s cap. He met Claude in the dark shadows.

Claude swiped at Landon and missed. His back feet dug deep into the ceiling, Landon grabbed Claude’s head with one arm, crushing it into the ceiling, as he took his other arm and, horizontally, sliced clean through his enemy’s back.

Landon dropped Claude’s upper torso to the dancefloor below, his lower-half still clinging to, dangling from, the dark, enclosed sky above.

The red werewolf looked down from the ceiling, watching Ryker use his significantly high-level telekinesis to pull the hearts out of his enemies without touching them. Those unlucky enough to be touched, quickly had their throats slashed, heads ripped away from their necks, or eviscerated at the mid-section.

The Venetian Army, as Landon now like to refer to them, the majority not having seen a battle in decades, fought viciously to contain the onslaught within the building.

A large number of the enemy, however, fought their way past the youngest of Landon’s troops, making it out the door, and spilling into the streets of London.

Landon picked out a small group exiting the building and, dropping to the floor below, followed them out the door. Reaching the outside, he found the carnage flowed into the London streets like a flooded River Thames. Werewolves and vampires were fighting, killing, and dying, everywhere he looked. The screams of the dying mingled with those of mortal passers-by.

Still in werewolf form, he quickly gathered his thoughts, and trailed his group of five to a small, nearby movie theater in Knightsbridge. The marquee read An American Werewolf in London. The real werewolf bared his teeth, grinning at the irony, then refocused, entering the theater to flush out his prey.

The stench of popcorn, weighed down with gobs of butter, candy, and soda, nearly made him sick. Even in human form, he hated the smell of popcorn.

Moving swiftly to the screen room showing the movie, he realized that his group, the werewolves in it, had shifted, blending in with the patrons. It occurred to him that the theatergoers had been so busy watching the film, that no one had noticed a couple of nude people fill some seats. He had no choice.

Landon, on all fours, let out an earth-shaking roar, startling the mortals who at first believed it to be a gimmick, related to the movie, and didn’t flee. He then stood, and removed a seat bolted to the floor with one swipe. The people ran.

He spotted one nude male, who shifted immediately, as the other four escaped out the rear fire exits. Landon lunged at the werewolf, both crashing through the movie screen. As the projected panic played on the streets of London on the ripped screen, and on the actual streets outside, Landon slaughtered his enemy.

Jumping out the nearest exit, he picked up the scent again, and tracked the remaining four, east. Running down the road with increasing speed, he found one, a vampire, using a young couple, and their pet Yorkie, as a shield in front of Buckingham Palace. The Palace guards ran when they saw the werewolf approach.

Landon shifted; the nude red-head approached the scene.

“Let ‘em go,” he said.

“Let me go,” replied the visibly scared vampire. The Yorkie yapped incessantly.

“You know I can’t do that. You know I won’t. Let them go, and I’ll make it quick. I promise.”

“I think I’ll hold onto them.”

“Please,” said the young, mortal man, clinging to the woman at his side. “We’ll pay you well.”

For a second, Landon thought he recognized the couple, then refocused.

“I’m going to count,” began Landon, “and then you’re going to die.”

“You wouldn’t dare risk their lives,” said the vampire.

“Ready?”

“No, please,” begged the young man.

“Please, help us,” cried the woman. “Don’t let him—“

“One.”

In a flash, Landon shifted, the panicked vampire pushing the couple to the ground, and turning to run. The werewolf sailed through the air, tens of yards, landing on the vampire’s back, the bloodsucker’s head soon resting on the ground next to the now-quiet, shaking Yorkie.

Landon looked back, through his red eyes, his burning vision, and realized he knew who the couple was, the young, incredibly beautiful, brunette woman, and her young, blond-haired prince.

Three to go, he thought. With no time to spare, and already losing minutes with the hostage negotiation, Landon sprinted east, down Birdcage Walk, when he spotted two werewolves: one climbing Big Ben, the other racing along the roof of the Palace of Westminster.

Figuring that the one running along Parliament had a greater of escape, he raced toward the edifice of the governmental house and scaled.

Cutting the other werewolf off before he could jump to the adjacent street, Landon grabbed him and impaled him, face up, on one of the many spires that dotted the façade. A flood of blood gushed down the building. Landon then turned his attention to the famous clock tower.

Running along the roof of the Palace, picking up speed with each breath, Landon reached the edge of the current building and pushed off, propelled himself skyward. He flew through the night air, and grabbed the minute hand with his large claws.

The next werewolf had ascended the Neo-Gothic tower, and perched, waiting for his pursuer, nearer the top, by the bell itself. Pieces of Big Ben crumbled, falling to the gathering crowd of onlookers below, as he climbed, racing to the top. Sirens wailed, and blue lights flashed, all over London, some approaching his position.

The werewolf by the bell grabbed Landon’s head, throwing him into the massive bell, ringing it, the chime echoing across the city.

Landon stumbled, his head ringing like the bell, his red vision, blurred and doubled. He aimed for the center, between the two perceived werewolves standing before him.

Landon and his prey flew out of the tower. Falling toward the ground, he positioned himself above the other werewolf, and shaped his body like a rocket heading for Earth.

The two werewolves hit the street at the bottom of Big Ben like a bunker-busting bomb, pieces of pavement flying in all directions, a cloud of dust engulfing the crowd for yards.

As the fog of particulates began to clear, one large, red-furred arm reached out of the crater, then the other. Landon slowly pulled himself out. He staggered slightly, falling to all fours. Looking at the Londoners circled around him, he shook off the dust and dirt.

Suddenly, he shot up to an erect position and let out a powerful howl. Most of the crowd took off, some froze. Landon lumbered away from the pit, leaving the other werewolf, dead and broken, inside.

One to go.

He focused, feeling and smelling the air. A charge. A vampire remained.

Following the strength of the electricity, he headed east again, ending at Tower Bridge. The lone vampire waited for him on the top span between the two towers.

In seconds, Landon climbed the nearest cable, sailed over the tower, and stood, facing his opponent.

“You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?” asked the vampire.

The werewolf nodded.

“Do I even stand a chance?”

Landon shook his head.

“Then do it,” the vampire said, extending his arms outward, leaning his head back, eyes closed.

Landon lunged forward, slicing through the man’s torso, the vampire exploding into hundreds of pieces. His blood and body parts rained down, some onto the traffic that sat motionless on the bridge, watching the scene above, the rest into the River Thames.

Landon again howled at the stars and moon above, then raced away.

Several minutes later, he rejoined Ryker and the others at the nightclub, Twilight Zone.

“Did you catch them?” asked the Dane.

“Yeah. How badly is the city damaged?”

“Like a war zone.”

“We lose any of ours?”

“Two young ones.”

“It’s time to move,” said Landon. “We’re nearly there.”

Ryker whistled and the Venetian Army closed ranks, following the Consuls out of London, heading north.

One hour, and five-hundred miles later, Landon and his force neared the top of the hills that surrounded Loch Awe. He sent ahead of them, a cadre of musicians, playing The Gael, heralding their arrival.

“Why are you doing that?” asked Ryker.

“They already know we’re here. I’m just making an entrance. And letting them know an ass-kicking is coming.”

Reaching the perch, Landon looked down to see hundreds gathered below. Many more than he had calculated on being there. Nicholas and Jamie stood near the back, close to the castle.

Landon turned around and faced his people.

“No one leaves here until this valley, this lake, is a sea of blood!”

He turned again to face the waiting enemy below.

“Let’s go.”