The remaining werewolves seemed to rally and cheer at that idea and Larsson took that as her cue to start giving orders, “Guide, take point, find the source of this unease so I might dine in vengeance for Lucien Vigilant,[126] Perilous Truth Seeker, cover our flanks, and Storm Before the Calm,” she said motioning to brown furred with white spots werewolf who seemed just this side of boiling over with rage, ”take vanguard position. I don’t want anyone sneaking up on us.”
Rapidly, they fell into position and we started moving towards the trailers at the back of the park. I’m not sure if Guide, a salt and pepper furred and shorter werewolf, was intentionally trying to make it easy for us, but we didn’t run into any crowds or trouble along the way, ending up at the edge of the main thoroughfare where the metahuman tent still stood. Almost in waves, I felt the dread rushing out of there. Perilous Truth Seeker cut a hole in the side of the tent and dove in first, which was almost immediately met with a dull thunk and a growl. A voice brash male voice yelled from within, “You stay the fuck out of here you furred fucker. You’re not disemboweling anyone today.”
McCoy turned to me, “Is that Keitner?”
“I think so,” I said, turning to yell back at the tent, “Mr. Kietner, this is Deputy Marshall Tennant. We’re with the werewolves to try and help you all.”
From the hole cut in the tent Keitner’s massive head and only one of his shoulders popped out, “Holy shit, it is you. I thought you were dead?”
I smiled despite myself and patted my stomach, “Nope, still alive and all in one piece.”
“Emily told me you were gifted like her. Didn’t believe it until now.” His brow furrowed in thought, “But did these furry types try and kill you? Why are you working with them?”
My smiling turned into laughter despite myself. From the outside this was certainly a confusing turn of events. “Different group who don’t like the group who clawed me up. These ones are friendly.”
He smiled in response, “Oh good!” There was a slight shuffle as he moved out of the doorway followed by Perilous Truth Seeker bounding out of the tent looking annoyed in a way I didn’t know something with a wolf’s muzzle could. Suppressing another smile, I stepped into the tent, where Emily, Keitner, and a few other members of the circus were circled up, trying to ride out the storm in the one place they were comfortable enough to mount a defense.
Emily’s face lifted in a wide smile when I walked in and the dread wave went away, “Silas!” she cried bounding across the room to bury me in a hug. “I was worried you wouldn’t come.”
I stood there with an assault rifle sitting awkwardly in my one hand as I patted her back and tried not to think about the crushing sensation on my ribs, “Uh, good to see you too Emily,” I glanced around the room, “Where is everyone else?”
She pulled herself off of my chest, her voice valiantly trying to suppress a worried waver, “We’re not sure. About ten minutes ago, the disaster march started playing and we all rushed to figure out what was going on. All I saw was the elephants starting to stampede out of the big top, and decided the best idea was to hide out in here. Charlie, Stan, Lilith, and Henry all had the same idea. We were really worried when we heard a wolf howl, thinking that the werewolves had come back, but then you all showed up.”
I paused and looked at Larsson, who was in her human form and walking into the tent, “Did any of yours howl?” She just shook her head.
“Well, that’s probably where Voigt is then,” I said turning back to Emily, “Do you know which way the howl came from?”
She shook her head, but one of the carnival workers who had in what would be called humorously large ears in other situations, Stan, if my memory was correct, stepped forward, “It was by the animal cages,” he said confidently, “We don’t have any wolves in the circus, but it would explain the panic.”
I nodded, “Thanks. Larsson, can you spare any one to help keep these people safe?” She glowered but nodded and whistled. I began to wonder if she had any other facial expressions. Before I could do something stupid, like ask, someone who was vaguely Native American in build and coloration walked in, “Come with me folks, I’ll get you out of here.” I made my way back through the hole to where McCoy stood with Storm Before the Calm[127]. As one they turned to me, SBtC spoke first, “You do well to protect your mate from the abomination. You’re alright for an unawakened servant of our oppressors.”
I stood there in shock trying to figure out if I should respond to the backhanded compliment or the implication, I was having sex with Emily first.
“I’m not dating, let alone mating, that woman,” I eventually stammered out. Apparently, that was the more important thing to establish here. Great job brain.
Their eyebrows rose, “Truly? She seems very interested in the idea of mating with you. I could practically smell and hear her offer herself to you from here. Eagerness is a good quality in a mate.”
McCoy spoke up, pent up sarcasm finally bursting free, “No, he’s too busy trying to mate with someone far too pretty and smart to fall for his dumbass.” I wanted to shoot her but was still reeling from the implications of my sex life.
SBtC scoffed, “Don’t go for an Alpha. You’re not worthy. Consider someone more akin to you and your abilities, such as the Emily or the McCoy here, and you’ll be much happier in life.”
McCoy and I looked at each other and burst out laughing almost in unison. Through the laughs she managed to get out, “Oh no, not a chance. He’s not even close to my type.”
I was too relieved that she found it as preposterous as I did that, I didn’t even add in. SBtC just looked at us confused, “Why not? You are clearly a fine battle pair. Your children would be great warriors.”
I responded first, “Not exactly my first thought when seeking a, uh, mate.”
SBtC shook their head, “Humans are truly weird,” they said before walking away.
McCoy and I had a good laugh before Larsson joined us looking matronly, “What is so amusing about Voigt?”
I breathed deep and pulled myself up out of the laughter, “Oh, it has nothing to do with Voigt and everything to do with Storm Before the Calm’s ideas about how human dating should work.”
“Wolfborn,” she responded with a finality that suggested that explained everything. Before I could ask questions, a howl went through the camp and we all stopped to contemplate it for a second. Larsson started moving towards what I suspected were the animal cages, “That wasn’t one of mine, or even a werewolf as far as I could tell. There was a moment of consultation, a nod, and then we took off running.
Perilous Truth Seeker dashed out ahead of me, leading the path. After a few moments, I spotted Carlson and SBtC converging from wherever they had moved off to. We moved as a unit, covering each other’s flanks and blind spots. We dodged tent lines and rounded corners without missing a beat. It was an exhilarating feeling moving as one, and for a moment I could almost see the appeal and mentality of a werewolf pack.
And then it all came crashing down.
Right as we rounded the final corner to the animal cages, we found the first bodies. Two stagehands, who looked like they had been sitting around a small fire, were splayed out over their bucket chairs. Hearts ripped out of their chests; bodies discarded like burger wrappers.
They were only the start of the trail of carnage. Slowly, we crept forward, delicately stepping over the remnants of stagehands, animals, and other workers alike. I paused to offer my respects to what looked like the remains of the man-anaconda[128] hybrid I had seen on my first visit. It disturbed me slightly to realize that my first thought was not about the loss of life but instead trying to figure out what, if anything, Voigt might have gained from that kill.
Eventually, the trail of corpses led to a small clearing where a wolf thing stood in slightly dented ground from its impressive weight. It paid us no mind as it finished using its snout to eat the heart straight out of the chest instead of needing to pull it out first. I suppressed the urg
e to vomit and toggled my safety off. At the same time, McCoy raised her gun to shoot and Larsson started to shift into her wolfman form and Voigt dropped the body and spoke without turning to face us, “Oh good, I was wondering when my main course would arrive. These morsels barely whetted my appetite.”
Chapter 22
The Challenge
Voigt straightened and smiled wickedly at us, the rotten honey of his voice pouring all over us, eyes focused on me, “I wasn’t expecting you to show up so soon Deputy. I figured that you’d still be at the boathouse, waiting for me to walk into a trap I saw from a mile away.” He paused, smiling his slasher smile. I wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of letting my frustration reach my face.
“Well, bully for you. Still, why come here?” I asked, fingering my safety off. “Why not just run?”
He shrugged and dropped what looked to be half a rib cage carelessly to his side, “Well, I still want you to be my mobile snack bag. I figured, If I just went after the pathetic little freaks you’re charged with policing, you’d show up eventually. And now the advantage is mine.”
I shouldered the rifle but didn’t open fire quite yet. To my sides, Storm Before the Calm, McCoy, and Perilous Truth were all fanning out, looking for optimal angles. Stalling for time, I carried on Voigt’s conversation, “Ya know, the ‘little freaks’ I’m responsible for includes your cannibalistic ass. And policing in this case means putting you in the ground.”
Voigt cast a careless eye at the attempt to surround him and actually started to walk forward, making the process easier. It might’ve been over confidence on his part, but I wasn’t sure it was going to help us here. “Please, Deputy, cannibalism only refers to those who eat their own species. I can do things that humans, metahumans, even Gods could only dream of. And, I’m not even at the limits of my abilities. We’re no longer the same species.”
“I’ve heard a similar speech from a Vampire before, right before we dusted him. You can have your delusions of grandeur, we’re still going to put you down,” I declared far more confidently than I felt.
“You will try,” he rebutted, “And you will fail. I’ll capture you and kill each of your friends. And then, I’ll take you with me as I go find more people to eat and absorb. You’ll be my perpetual snack to keep me satiated between full courses.”
I shuddered and went to retort, but McCoy was apparently not having any of that. She yelled, “Eat this mother…” and the shotgun blast blew the rest of the sentence away. The slug blew clean through Voigt’s head. Instantaneously, the damage was gone, and he was back to square one, fully healed, leaving only some errant debris flying through the air as if spawned by bad movie special effects. His head swiveled to McCoy, “Right, you. I think I’ll eat you first for all the annoyances you caused me at the hospital.” McCoy responded by putting another slug through his head, presumably adding another death to whatever unfathomably large number we needed to reach. I followed suit, carefully putting the trigger into three round bursts all aimed at his head.
There was a faint thud as he took his first step towards McCoy. When he went for his second step, a body shaking whump filled the air and a harpoon filled Voigt’s left kidney, causing him to grunt in pain. Before he could respond, McCoy put two more slugs into his head and then a mess of fur I hadn’t seen yet tonight plowed him over.
Despite the standard extra mass, fur, fangs, and claws that all werewolves had[129], Larsson had enough unique features, I could immediately see that she was a cut above the average werewolf. First of all, she was just plain faster. The average werewolf had an animalistic fury and intensity that gave them extra speed over humans, but Larsson moved so fast that if I blinked, she appeared to teleport. Additionally, her fur had an almost metallic gleam to it, the purpose becoming apparent almost immediately when one of Voigt’s pilfered werewolf claws tried to strike her arm and the fur matted and then blended together to form an armor like sheen. The claw struck solidly, but couldn’t find purchase against the armored fur, turning what should’ve been a crippling blow into a glancing one.
However, her survival abilities were apparently more in line with Ali’s thoughts on boxing, as she rolled with the strike, deflecting most of its momentum and reappearing twenty feet away, giving McCoy and myself enough time to open fire on Voigt, aiming for concentrated headshots. My shots weren’t doing that much besides seemingly frustrating him. It seemed especially useless because every time a slug went through his brain, all the head wounds disappeared, and he reformed. I stopped, looking to save my ammo[130] and figure out what was going on here. Just shooting him wasn’t getting us anywhere useful, we needed a way to end this for good.
The claw marks and tooth marks from Larsson’s assault were gone as were all my bullet holes, but the harpoon was still logged in him. Okay, that could be useful. It suggests that when he heals, he has an upper limit on what his body auto-rejects.[131] I had the start of a plan forming when he started to stand up. Carlson yanked on the harpoon tether to unbalance him and then suddenly Larsson was on top of him, claws and fangs in tandem, not doing much damage, but working to distract him long enough for McCoy to reload. I started to feel hopeful, if we could keep this pattern up, we could just grind him down. Only issue is if McCoy ran out of ammo before Voigt ran out of lives, I didn’t have a backup plan.
My contemplation was interrupted by a noise that would’ve been called a yip if it didn’t come from a gravel voiced werewolf. I looked up to see Larsson suddenly flying through the air. I looked over to Voigt who was putting his foot back on the ground and trying to break the harpoon off. That struggle was compromised by Carlson pulling on the tethering line causing the harpoon hooks to dig into Voigt’s abdomen. Voigt was unbalanced for a second before gaining purchase and pulling back on the line. Carlson’s momentum was broken and then reversed, slowly sliding forward.
It bought enough time for McCoy to finish her reload, level, and put a slug through Voigt’s head. Staggered, Voigt stopped fighting the pull and Carlson was able to stop his slide. Once he stopped, he started pulling again, knocking Voigt to the ground. As McCoy sighted on the now prone Voigt, he twisted and grabbed the harpoon. One hand on the hook in front of his body and one on the tether loop on the back. Without hesitation, he shoved on the harpoon, pushing it through his left abdominal wall and taking several large chunks of flesh with it. Despite the confidence he had in destroying his own body, Voigt laid on the ground, his eyes clearly bleared in pain. Blood and bile poured from the gaping hole in his side.
Now that was a first. Hope started welling up again. Didn’t matter how strong you were, missing muscles and blood loss would eventually get to you. The hole started to knit itself together, but even if his healing was three times faster than mine, he’d die of blood loss first.
McCoy wasn’t about to give him that chance. She pumped a fresh shell into the shotgun, topped off with one final shell, squaring up to blow Voigt’s head off again. The lightbulb went off in my head: he didn’t reset until he reached a point of actually being dead. Killing him wouldn’t stop him but maiming him would. But, before I could even start to say “No,” and explain to McCoy, she squeezed the trigger, resulting in a very small amount of brain being splayed across the ground and fully healed Voigt smiling wickedly at us all.
“Well, fuck,” is all I managed before Voigt rolled to his feet started the terminator walk towards McCoy. McCoy unloaded one, two, three slugs into Voigt’s head, each of them resetting his body, but not slowing or staggering him the least. I tried to yell but being heard over the roar of a shotgun wasn’t within my skill set. McCoy was slowly backing up, trying to maintain distance, but she was going to run into a tent soon and then be trapped.
I snapped my rifle to point and instead of going for headshots, I aimed for the ankle, looking to cripple him. If it worked on werewolves, why wouldn’t it work here? I exhaled and let a full auto burst carry me up his left leg, tearing his muscles and almost causing him to stumble. Unfo
rtunately, McCoy’s next slug tore through his face and undid that progress. I went to swap magazines but fumbled the reload when McCoy tripped over a tent anchoring line and fell. She was scrambling, but not getting much of anywhere on the muddy ground as Voigt stooped low to grab her. I frantically dug for my telekinesis in a last-ditch attempt to save her, but knew I’d be too late. She was going to be dead and there was nothing I could do about it.
Then suddenly Carlson was there, running the harpoon through Voigt’s back and lifting him off the ground. I had to mentally scold myself for forgetting the other people here. McCoy, relief in her eyes, managed to scramble under Voigt’s flailing legs, grab her shotgun, and move to a safe distance. Before she could bring the gun back to bear, I yelled in the relatively quiet night, “Shoot to maim! Shoot to maim! He doesn’t heal until when he’s actually killed!”
McCoy didn't even hesitate, the gun stopped far short of the head and she squeezed the trigger, turning Voigt’s left foot into a mushy pulp. Voigt cried out in pain, validating my insight and halting his flailing for a split second. Which is all Carlson needed to upend the harpoon and drive the point into the ground, pinning Voigt face down, before stepping back satisfied. I blinked, and Larsson was there again tearing at Voigt’s tendons, severing most of his fine motor control. There was a whoosh of air and then she was standing next to me as we watched his flayed arms try to knit themselves back together while he screamed in pain, without any real direction or motion. Carlson stood a pace or two back watching him warily.
McCoy stepped to my side, “So, now what?” she plainly asked.
I shrugged, “I’m not entirely sure. He’s too crippled to do much of anything right now. He’s growing back, but we can keep him pinned for the time being, tearing open what heals.” I said, pointing at the damage. ”But, the drowning plan won’t work here,” I said, stating the obvious.
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