No Such Thing As Werewolves (36 page)

The massive metal door swung silently open, drawing Blair’s gaze. Trevor emerged with a rifle slung over his back, a black pistol belted to his waist, and a pump-action shotgun cradled between his arms. He snapped the shotgun to his shoulder. Just a few feet from Blair’s face, the mouth of the barrel was huge.

Trevor’s finger began to tighten on the trigger. Blair blurred. He rolled forward, coming to his feet behind Trevor as the shotgun roared. The blast rang Blair’s ears like a gong as the stench of gunpowder renewed.

“Trevor,” he roared, voice deep and bestial. It was the first time he’d spoken as a werewolf. “It’s Blair. I won’t hurt you. I can help you stop Liz.”

Trevor spun, already bringing the shotgun to bear. Blair was faster. He seized the barrel in one furry fist, aiming it at the ground.
 

Trevor began to reach for the pistol holstered at his side but hesitated. His gaze held fear, but it was steady. Every part of his body was loose. Relaxed. It was the same way Jordan had moved, back in Cajamarca. He sounded calm despite the fact that his sister and her houseguest had just turned into monsters. Definitely not your average astronomer.

“How do I know you won’t tear me apart the second I let my guard down?” Trevor asked.

“Because we’re talking right now. If I wanted to kill you, then you’d be dead,” Blair replied, releasing the shotgun and taking a step backward. He raised his hands in what he hoped was a placating gesture, palms out. “Liz is out of control. Her body is full of too much energy. Radiation, I think. I experienced something similar, but I’m in control now. She will be too if we give her time to burn off that excess.”

She does not burn her reserves nearly so quickly as you do. Be wary, Ka-Dun. Such feats of speed are costly. Your strength wanes. You must conserve it for the trials ahead.

The beast’s logic made sense. How much juice did he have left in whatever metaphysical battery powered his abilities? How quickly could the moonlight recharge him? The answers were essential to his survival.

“All right,” Trevor said, lowering the shotgun. “What do you we do?”
 

“We survive,” Blair said in a low growl, stalking to the doorway to the house. He scanned the garage, but nothing stirred. It was far too quiet, the stillness just before a predator strikes. “Liz disappeared somehow. I have a number of abilities I don’t fully understand, so it stands to reason that she does too. There’s a division between the sexes. We can cover the specifics later, but the bottom line is I don’t know what she’s capable of. I do know she’s larger, stronger, and just about impossible to kill.”

“I almost took her face off with a shotgun, and she was fine just a few seconds later. We need to incapacitate her, but I have no idea what that’s going to take. She can grow back an eye. Can she regrow limbs?” Trevor asked, putting his back to the wall near the door leading into the house. It gave him a vantage of both doors, probably a smart move.

Any wound can be healed, no matter how grievous, so long as you expend enough energy.

“As long as she has energy, she can knit herself back together. I’m not sure we
can
kill her,” Blair rumbled, shifting his attention to the shattered door leading into the house. It gaped ominously. Everything was still, other than their heartbeats. No cicadas. No bats. Nothing. The whole yard outside was holding its breath, fervently attempting to avoid the notice of the predator lurking in its midst.
 

“Regenerating takes time though, right? At least a little. If we can disable her long enough to restrain her, we can give her time to regain control,” Trevor said. It made sense.
 

“Now we just have to find her,” Blair growled.

“We won’t have to. She’ll find us,” the wiry man replied, feeding shells into the shotgun.
 

Chapter 49- Feed

Liz railed within the confines of her own mind, helpless to stop the beast from slaughtering those she cared about. She’d hurled her will at the thing when it first pursued Trevor, to no avail. It had batted aside her attempts to wrest control, like a parent controlling a child’s tantrum. Later, when the beast had been about to enter the gun room, she’d tried again. This time she’d reached into reserves she hadn’t known she possessed and had managed to force the beast to pause. It had bought a few precious seconds, seconds during which she could have killed her brother.

Then Blair had attacked and the beast had regained control. She’d watched helplessly while it attempted to kill him, cheering every time he melted away from an attack with inhuman speed.

The beast was patient, though. It had somehow melded into the shadows, wearing them like a cloak. It slinked back into the house. Watching. Waiting. Studying. It now lurked in the hallway just beyond the shattered door leading to the garage, massive body invisible in the gathered darkness. Even Blair’s heightened senses seemed unable to detect it. If only she could do something to betray the beast’s presence.

It cannot be, Ka-Ken. We must feed, and soon. The male will give us the greatest strength, but the unblooded will suffice. He could prove a valuable ally if his blood is pure. He is near kin to you. The danger is less.

She considered reasoning with the beast but discarded the notion as foolish. It respected strength. The only way she was going to regain control was to take it by force. If it could be cunning, so could she. Liz offered no protest, merely watching. The beast would be distracted when it attacked. She could make her move then and, hopefully, wrest control.

The beast whuffed the air, inhaling deeply as it sorted the myriad of scents. Sweat. Fear. Gunpowder. It flowed to the doorway, wrapping the shadows more tightly about it. They clung to its fur, blotting out all light. It was an incredible ability, and even amidst the horror of her situation, she couldn’t help but marvel at it. How was it done? Her brother would probably talk about refracting light or some other equally scientific explanation. He might even be right.

The beast studied the room’s two occupants. Blair’s furred form slouched against a waist-high red toolbox, the wheeled kind that held more tools than a person could ever possibly hope to use.
 

Do not be deceived by his posture. Every part of him strains to detect us. He is powerful. And dangerous. He must be dealt with first.

Her brother stood with a shotgun in hand, a rifle slung across his back, and a pistol holstered at his side. He scanned the very space they occupied, but his gaze roamed past them without any hint of recognition.

“We won’t have to. She’ll find us,” he said, adding more shells to the Remington. She remembered when Dad had bought it for him.

The male is vulnerable. He dies.

Blair had turned to face Trevor, leaving his back to the doorway where the beast lurked. She felt it gather its weight on powerful legs and then leap into the air. Their form rose silently, descending toward Blair’s unprotected back with incredible speed.
 

Somehow he saw it coming, already spinning toward them. It was too late. The beast tackled Blair’s smaller form, pinning his arms as its jaw latched onto his throat. It bit down in a spray of blood, hot and coppery and wonderful.

The beast seized Blair’s wrists, yanking his arms in opposite directions until they popped free of their sockets. Blair gave a gurgling scream, marred by his ruined throat. The wounds were mortal, at least on a human. The assault was a savage one, designed to cripple a foe before it could react. It worked perfectly. Blair sagged weakly, eyes rolling back into his head. He was dead unless she could do something.

Liz poured everything into seizing control of her arms, just that one part of her. She would
not
allow this to continue. The beast would be stopped. She was in control here.

No, Ka-Ken. You know not what you do. He is vulnerable. We can claim his strength. He is the Mother’s direct progeny. We will become much greater, gain strength to combat the evil to come.
 

She was horrified. The beast wanted her to
devour
Blair. She could feel its thoughts, and they made her furious. She was tired of being the victim, of letting this thing commit atrocity after atrocity while wearing her skin. Never again would she allow this. It was time to put a collar on this fucking thing. Her body grew rigid, no longer pulling Blair’s arms. She could
feel
. Those were here hands.
Her
toes.
 

Then a shape loomed to her side, something metallic flashing in the garage’s wan light. Pain struck like an adder. She watched in shock as her right wrist was severed in a spray of blood. She released Blair, seizing the severed stump with her other hand. Liz could only gape at the sight of her brother already raising the machete for a second strike.
 

The beast charged from the back of her mind, seizing control once more. It shot out the whole arm, grabbing Trevor around the neck and hoisting him into the air. Then it began to squeeze. Her brother’s eyes bulged in agony. He was a hairbreadth from having his larynx crushed. He seized the machete in both hands, bringing it up in a tight arc. The weapon bit into the beast’s wrist, severing a tendon.

Trevor dropped to the floor, dropping the machete with a clatter as he rolled backward and came to his feet. He drew a huge black pistol from the thigh holster, both hands wrapped tightly around the grip as he brought the muzzle into alignment with her belly. She tried twisting away but was too late. The gun bucked once, twice, and then a third time. All three rounds caught her in the gut, searing into her vital organs and forcing her to take staggering steps backward.

The beast went wild, battling her with an intensity she’d never imagined. Liz clung to control, maintaining the tiniest grip in the face of the assault. She had to buy them time to kill her, because the alternative was unthinkable. Trevor was her brother, and while she’d only know Blair a short time, he was the only one who understood what she was going through.

Hairy arms wrapped around her neck, yanking her from her feet. Blair tightened the crook of his arm around her throat, every muscle straining as he cut off her air supply. The beast sought to dislodge him, bucking wildly and nearly tossing the smaller werewolf away. Blair clung like a spider, refusing to let go.

“Kill me, Blair,” Liz roared, forcing her arms to drop to her sides. “Do it. Quickly. I won’t fight you.”

His grip tightened. Blackness ate at her vision.
 

Chapter 50- Bonita

Ahiga studied the house below. A structure suitable for a large family, set by itself atop a squat hill. The place was a welcome relief from the mad clusters of buildings he’d passed to get here. People living on top of each other, filling every available space. Dwellings so tightly clustered had been unheard of in his time but seemed common in this new world of pollution and appallingly crowded cities. Yet the structure was larger than many he’d seen. Did it mark the home’s owner as a man of prestige or power? If so, this man could make a potent ally for the whelp’s fledgling pack. One they would sorely need in the days ahead.

The house was bathed in the light of the gibbous moon. A steady light burned in what Ahiga took to be the kitchen. He’d learned that term from one of the hosts he’d consumed. During his own time food had been both prepared and eaten in the same area. The idea that one needed separate rooms for each task was wholly alien, but then so were the size and opulence of these dwellings. The homes he’d known were both smaller and less ostentatious than those possessed by even the lowest of the unblooded he’d seen.

Several shapes loped through the darkness, ranging the rocky ground as they sought field mice or rabbits. Ahiga had called the coyotes to his service, and they recognized him as their alpha. They would serve as additional eyes and ears, and could even aid in combat if needed. He’d have preferred the ferocity of wolves, but one made due with the tools at hand.

Ahiga glanced at the moon, mood souring. It was the second cycle since he’d awoken, and he’d still neither revived the Mother nor convinced the whelp to do so. What would the Mother say when she finally woke? She wasn’t known for her temperament and had occasionally destroyed those who failed her. What would she do to someone who’d failed as monumentally as he?

It spurred him to action. Ahiga concentrated, using a surge of energy to make his body malleable. He shifted, but not into the powerful werewolf his kind had become known for. No, this required more finesse. Ahiga became a small brown wolf, one that an observer might mistake for a very large coyote. In many ways the form was more familiar to him than that of a man.
 

He trotted through the darkness, winding past scrubby bushes and boulders of various sizes. His path brought him closer and closer to the house, allowing him to hear the trio of heartbeats within. All beat slow and steady. They were confident. Or at least not immediately afraid, not like they had been mere hours ago when the female had gone berserk in an energy rage. Both Blair and their new human companion had been lucky to survive that encounter. An enraged female was nothing to trifle with.

Ahiga found a boulder not far from the window where the strange boxes they called computers were kept. The whelp’s newest ally sat in front of the box, holding a small black communication device to his ear. Trevor, that was the man’s name.