by Lynn Red
When it started wobbling, he moved faster.
Then, just as he was next to the bike, a huge gust blew from the east – from the direction of the road – driving cold grains of sand against the skin on Damon’s neck.
With a groan that sent a thrill of nausea up Damon’s chest, the bike tottered.
The fifteen-hundred cubic centimeter motorcycle, that probably weighed a thousand pounds, tipped, and collapsed.
In a half-panicked fury, Damon grabbed the handlebar and wrenched it off the ground, grunting with effort, until he heaved the metal mass off his brother. He swore and pushed it over, in the other direction.
It took about a half a second before he noticed that the jacket sticking out from underneath the frame was empty.
And then, before he could blink again, a roar filled his ears, and a shoulder slammed straight into the small of his back.
Damon went down into the dirt, face first. His brother’s heft drove all the air out of his lungs, and he gasped, hard, trying to suck air.
“I swore I wouldn’t let you get away with what you did, brother,” Devin hissed, flipping Damon over on his back, and ramming a fur-covered fist into his teeth, busting his lips wide open. “You didn’t believe me! You pulled that holier-than-thou Skarachee bullshit, and you threw me out! Like you had the right.”
He pulled back his arm and swung wildly. That time, Damon turned, just as the fist that would have probably broken his nose and loosened a tooth or two, whizzed past and slammed into the ground.
Throwing his knee up into Devin’s back, Damon flipped him over and reversed their positions. He pinned his brother’s arms, and threw his head back, roaring savagely at the barely-visible moon.
Off in the distance, motors hummed. The wind still blew, and those awful, damn grains of sand still stung him, as the cold wind beat against Damon’s back. Devin swung a fist at him, but Damon just turned his shoulder and deflected the blow.
He caught his brother’s fist, as Devin recoiled. Damon squeezed so hard that the wolf underneath him whimpered a bit. The hair on the back of Damon’s neck, running down his spine, grew hard and stiff and wiry, and he felt waves of power course through him.
Damon’s muscles swelled, his fists twisted and elongated, and the next time Devin threw a wild, poorly aimed, but jaw-shattering punch, Damon answered. First, he countered with a slash across the chest, then a head-butt that broke Devin’s nose, and finally a brutal shot to the ribs.
Behind them, those motors still hummed. The wind still blew, but it didn’t matter. Damon and Devin both had waited for this – to settle whatever differences they had – for so long that letting it out was pure, delicious catharsis.
Damon landed two hard jabs before Devin finally drew up his arms and deflected one. The slick, black-furred wolf on the ground rolled left, and then right. He managed to unbalance Damon then got enough leverage to get out from under him.
Moving backwards, into the wind, Damon steadied himself. He grabbed the part of his jeans that split around his swelling thighs and ripped it off. He wasn’t going to let his brother get any advantage he could control.
For a moment, they just stood, staring at one another. Devin’s eyes shimmered in the yellow moon, and Damon’s burned green and gold. Both wanted a piece of the other, but neither man wanted to make the first move. They both knew better than to lunge, but someone had to go first.
Damon flinched his shoulder and feinted a charge.
Devin took the bait.
Completely out of control, the black wolf snarled and slashed at the air, expecting to catch his brother in the throat with his claws. Instead he caught only air. In the split second between Devin swinging wide, and his realizing what happened, Damon pounced.
He drove his fist into Devin’s jaw, twisting his brother’s lupine head around in a terrible whiplash. Then, before Devin recovered, Damon cracked his other cheek with an elbow, grabbed the back of his head and brought it down to his knee. Devin screeched as his lips broke. He turned and spat a tooth onto the ground, never taking his eyes off Damon.
All the wounds, both of them knew, would heal. But damn, did every single one of them hurt.
With both of his lips split open, Devin smiled a grisly smile. A trickle of blood ran down his teeth, down his chin, and dripped to the desert beneath his feet, where it immediately soaked in.
Those motors in the distance kept right on humming.
But, as Damon watched his brother, and wondered what the next move was going to be, he noticed that the distance between the sounds of motorcycles and where he and Devin stood was getting smaller every second. He shook his head, figuring it for nothing, and not a moment too soon.
Devin’s clenched fist caught him, but only with a glancing blow. It slid along his jaw, and then harmlessly away.
“Do you hear that?” he asked Devin, who wiped blood off his lips and grinned, again. “Those engines, I mean. I can’t see anything past the dust.”
Devin’s answer was to snarl and lunge again, but Damon very easily turned the blow aside and caught Devin’s wrist. Damon wrenched his hand to such an awful angle that his brother cried out with something that was close to a yelp.
“Do you see anything?” Damon growled at his brother. “If they’re coming after me, they’re going to murder you, too, idiot.”
Devin shook his head.
“Can’t see shit, brother. Can’t see anything. The blood, all in my eyes, I can’t see…”
Damon licked his split lip and squinted. He counted six bikes. Six bikes that were definitely not on the road, anymore.
Devin struggled to free himself, but Damon only tightened his grip.
“You arrogant prick,” Damon said, under his breath. “I don’t know how, but somehow, you knew they were coming. You wanted to cripple me, leave me for dead, and run off to whatever hole it is you call home.”
He squeezed harder on Devin’s wrist to punctuate what he said. He narrowed his eyes, thinking. “It doesn’t matter. You’re not getting away from me. If anyone’s getting left for dead, it’s you.”
Damon put the side of his hard-soled boot against Devin’s ankle.
“I could break your leg,” he said. “Right now.”
Devin twisted, struggling to free himself.
“For what?” Devin snarled. “How are you gonna get away? There’s six of them. You gonna fight all of them by yourself?”
Damon ground his foot against his brother’s ankle. “Don’t have to be faster than them,” he said with a grim smile. “Just faster than you.” Then, the thought for a moment longer. “No,” he said. “We are going to fight them.”
Devin shifted his eyes back and forth, hardly believing what he heard.
“Why… Why would you trust that I wasn’t working with them? This isn’t like you, Damon.”
“Actually,” Damon said, “I almost know you’re with them. But Poko wanted me to bring you back alive, and if you think they’re going to let you get away, after they kill me, you’re nuts. By the way, how did you get loose? I thought I had you tied down pretty well.”
Devin grunted. “It hurt a lot.”
He lifted one arm, showing off the burned-black skin, where he’d yanked until the silver chain had broken.
“How do you know I’m not going to betray you?” Devin rubbed his shoulder when Damon let him go.
“I don’t. But what choice do I have? I know you hate me, but I also know that you’re not stupid. I won’t kill you.” Damon shot a glance back at the riders streaking toward them. “You know that. But, you’re not sure about they won’t kill you.”
The bikes, and their riders, finally came into view through the dirt cloud. Three of them had silver chains gripped in their leather-clad hands, and none of them were stopping.
The first of the riders blazed between Devin and Damon, and they both turned their heads to watch him pass. The half-man was so old, that his scarred, pock-marked skin had gone gray and brittle.
D
evin shrieked when the silver chain wrapped around one of his outstretched arms. He fell to the ground, writhing in agony and streaking along the ground. He had the good sense to dig in his heels, and just as he did, Damon lunged forward.
He wrapped his fingers around the chain’s silver links and yanked as it burned into his hand. The rider silently fell to the ground.
One stomp from Damon’s heavy boot was all it took.
Not a second later, another wolf rider howled and skidded in a circle. With a flick of his wrist, the chain in the rider’s hand sizzled as it wrapped around Damon’s neck.
“You did well,” a ghostly, almost not-there voice said to Devin. “Leading… us… to him.”
Damon grabbed the chain, his fingers and neck sizzling and smoking from the silver, but he wasn’t giving in. Every muscle and tendon flexed and tightened. Damon strained against the metal, and the ghostly rider, who held him.
Wheels spun so fast against the cracked earth that they smoked. The front tire of the rider’s bike lifted off the ground. Damon gave one last grunt, and yanked. The chain went slack, and the second rider fell.
The instant this one hit the ground he exploded into a pile of ash. When Damon shot a glance at the first one, he too was gone.
“What are these things?” Damon asked over his shoulder.
Devin shrugged, and tensed.
Just in time, as it turned out. The third rider, one without a chain, went straight at Devin. Without pausing, he rammed straight into Devin’s chest, throwing him backwards and underneath the wheels. He rolled before anything broke, except his pride.
Damon whirled in time to see the other three baring down on him. They were still far enough away that he had time to take a breath, but just barely.
A quick glance around revealed to Damon that things were worse than he thought. For weapons he had nothing much more than his fists and a discarded chain. The first rider was almost on him when he grabbed the chain, winced at how it seared his palm, and he steeled himself for impact.
Damon sucked a breath through his nose, crouched, and whipped the ground, leaving a lash mark.
And then, the whole world exploded around him.
Everything around him was fire, screeching wheels, and the fury of hell.
Damon whirled the chain around his head, but at the very last second, ducked, and wrapped it around the front-runner’s wheel. The bike jammed, squealed, and flipped straight over, exploded into a ball of fire, and then simply vanished.
“You’re fired,” Devin said over his shoulder.
“Really?” Damon shot back, but he couldn’t hide a grin. “Look out!”
The call alerted Devin, just in time. He jumped to the side, and twisted away from the hellish rider’s front tire right before it ground his face into hamburger. It was close enough that he felt air from the tire on his face. Acting on instinct, he leapt forward.
But, instead of catching the gray-skinned werewolf, like he expected, Devin just sailed right through him. He landed with a thud.
He was coated in a thin layer of the same ash that exploded from the other three. The next moment, his entire body erupted in vicious agony.
“S…silver! It’s just like silver!” Devin shrieked, as Damon dodged a swinging chain whip. He struck with a kick that sent a bike careening off balance. As soon as it tipped, another brief inferno lit the sky.
He chanced a look over at his brother, who writhed on the ground, scratching at his face so brutally that he was covered in long, red, angry looking cuts.
“Why… What is this?” Devin screamed, as he clawed. “My whole body… I’m burning. I’m… Can’t breathe… Lungs burning…”
And then, he fell silent.
Before he could react, the last of the riders spun in a circle, skidded, and slammed his back tire into Damon’s chest. Damon clutched himself, immediately feeling cracks in three of his ribs.
With every breath he took, every desperately-needed breath, shot fire through his body. Every inch of him screamed in pain.
Damon lifted his head and looked straight ahead into the headlight he thought was just about break his neck. He knew he’d heal from broken ribs, and he’d heal from silver burns, but having his neck snapped? Little bit more complicated.
The motorcycle was maybe a hundred feet away. The engine revved, and the front tire left the ground.
But then, just as he stared at the thing that was going to take him away – steal him from Lily, from his pack – something flashed before Damon’s eyes. He remembered the dream he forgot. He remembered Lily being with him, and her whispering something about a baby.
In his last seconds, tears fell down Damon’s lupine face. He closed his eyes and took one last breath.
Instead of a crunch, though, he heard a shriek – a wolf’s shriek – a savage, ear-splitting war cry.
And then, he saw his brother shoot across the desert and slam straight into the side of the motorcycle, in the last second before it broke Damon’s neck.
Like all the others, the bike skidded onto its side, erupted in a flash of flame, and was gone.
Damon shook his head and pushed off the ground, still holding his shattered ribs. He looked left, then right, not surprised to find there was no trace of the battle that just took place – that almost took his life, and left his brother a bleeding, ragged-breathing, crying heap.
Damon hobbled over to Devin’s side and knelt.
“I’m… Can’t breathe,” Devin whimpered. “On fire… Everything burns…”
The first thing Damon thought was that his brother just saved him. After everything, he almost got himself killed, saving Damon. But the second thing that crossed his mind was he probably did it so he could get his own revenge, and didn’t want to see his chance wasted.
Looking down at his gasping brother, Damon felt the hard fur recede into his skin, and shortly, all his clothes hung in tatters on his smaller, but still massive, frame.
“We’ve got to get you home,” Damon said, looking down at his weeping brother, who was curled up and face down, shaking in either pain, or fear. “Can you stand?”
He rolled Devin over, and realized, as he looked down at the blood, the cuts, and the thin layer of sizzling gray ash, that he’d just asked the dumbest question, in the history of the world. Damon touched his brother’s cheek, and immediately recoiled.
“Silver powder,” he said. “What the hell were those things?”
“He’s… He made them,” Devin rasped. “Blight… Joram Blight, he… They’re golems or something, I don’t know. Christ, this hurts. It’s like… burning into me. I can’t…”
“Quiet,” Damon said. “Save your energy. If I go straight across the desert, it’ll be more dangerous, but I can get you to Poko in six hours or so. Won’t even be noon. Can you hold on that long?”
Devin snorted a laugh.
“Doesn’t seem like I have much choice… Please, please hurry. Get the… the sleeping bag. Wrap me up, so it won’t…”
And then he fell silent, as he slipped into unconsciousness.
Even with the sleeping bag between them, every so often, silver dust from Devin’s prone body drifted off and burned Damon’s nose. It was hard going, and every few feet he found himself looking backwards, sure there was someone else chasing them.
As soon as they were a ways down the road though, he started to relax..
“Joram Blight,” Damon said, as the sun began to rise behind him, and Fort Branch was six hours ahead. “Poko’ll know what to do.”
He was saying it more to convince himself, than because he was sure.
“Poko always knows what to do.”
-10-
“You about ready?” I shouted back down the hall to Hunter. “We got places to go, Captain Beef Sausage Hangover.”
He’d stumbled out about an hour ago, and ate three pounds of sausage. That was the first I saw of him since he took Cat to the guest room around two. She hit what I believe to be the brick-wall of her dr
inking tolerance, and started talking about how much she hated how Batman movies didn’t do justice to the comic book storylines, at which point he carried her away and got her all tucked in.
When I went to check on them a little later, he was asleep on the floor, curled up in a ball. Cat was snoring so loud that from outside the door, I thought it was the giant werewolf doing the snoring, not the five-foot-four girl with the impeccable fashion sense. I guess it just goes to show how you can’t ever really know someone until you see them really, really, really drunk.
Watching him carry her off, tucked in his arms like a drunken baby, was something I don’t think I’ll ever forget.
It sounds stupid, but seeing the two of them fall in with each other was just about the cutest thing in the world. After we ate, I figured Hunter would want to rest, or something. I totally underestimated the amount of energy that getting attention from a cute girl gives to lonely wolves.
Of course, Cat didn’t know he was a wolf. After her run-in with Devin, and the whole thing with that, we hadn’t talked about it at all. I figured she probably pushed it out of her mind, convinced herself it was a hallucination.
Anyway, we spent the whole day puttering around Fort Branch, doing and seeing all the town has to offer. The sum total of that happened to be four rounds of miniature golf, and three hours at a bowling alley. With the town’s amusements exhausted we retired to the house, and out came the booze.
Even though I missed Damon like crazy, it was just awesome to have friends around. Life’s so lonely out here, sometimes, that I start going a little nuts, getting a little stir-crazy. Being with Hunter and Cat was a needed dose of normal. They kept moving closer and closer to one another, wherever we were, and ended the night holding hands, like high school kids.
“Hunter! Grandpa’s expecting us before long. You didn’t go back to sleep, did you?”
And that’s when I heard the sighing.
It was really hard not to giggle. Somehow though I was not, at all, surprised at what I was hearing. They were good together. Sure, it was a little irritating that they decided to do this now, but that was okay.
