Tamed

by Douglas R. Brown

When she turned back to Aiden, he stood motionless and stared intently at the side of the drive. “Look,” he said, and pointed his flashlight toward the grass. She leaned past his shoulder for a better view.

  His flashlight beam revealed the two dead security guards as they lay in a pool of their own blood. While she stared at their bodies, she felt Aiden pull away from her side. “What is it?” she asked. He didn’t answer, but instead marched toward the inferno like he was suddenly possessed. He switched off his light—the growing flames making it useless.

  He shouted over the crackling inferno, “Don’t try to run, Bernard. It’s over.”

  That’s when she saw the bastard who started this whole mess. Bernard stood at the base of the building, hunched over in the glow of the flames with blood trickling down his shoulder and leg. He looked up with disdain.

  She inhaled a stuttered breath at the mere sight of him.

  He limped a few steps away from the building. She hurried to catch up to Aiden as he closed in. Bernard chuckled and said, “Nothing is over, Aiden. I just need to disappear for a while until I can get things straightened out.”

  Aiden took another cautious step toward his former boss. “We’re exposing you and your God-forsaken company,” he said. “You’re going to prison ... or a grave. It’s your choice.”

  “Oh,” Bernard answered. “Maybe that would be the case if you survive this night. But you’re not the only predator out here.” He nodded toward the gate behind them.

  Bernard’s chuckles turned into laughter. Christine slowly looked over her shoulder. She didn’t see anything, but heard a chain drag along the pavement on the other side of the gate next to the medic truck.

  Aiden asked, “Another one of your savages?”

  Bernard’s smile turned grim. “You wish.”

  A queasy feeling filled Christine’s gut and she turned toward the gate. “Aiden?” she whispered. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

  As she watched, a creature appeared in the headlights of the medic truck and leaped over the fence with one fluid jump. The beast landed next to the dead guards with a thud.

  Bernard shouted, “I call him The First. He is quite the killer. Good luck, Aiden. If it’s any consolation, you were always my best hunter.”

  Aiden touched Christine’s shoulder. The First scowled at them, sizing them up.

  Christine looked to Aiden; he stared at the beast. “We’re going to die,” she said.

  He nudged her to the side. He didn’t answer or try to comfort her in any way, which told her he felt the same way. He tightened his grip around his metal flashlight. The First sprang, covering the ground between them in an instant.

  Aiden shoved Christine to the ground and yanked his flashlight back. The beast collided with him and dug his claws into Aiden’s chest. The two struck the ground, breaking the creature’s grip on Aiden and Aiden’s grip on the flashlight.

  “Christine,” Aiden screamed. “Run.”

  She hesitated—she couldn’t leave him.

  The beast attacked again. Aiden dove to the side, but he wasn’t quick enough. The werg’s claws raked across his back.

  Christine glanced at Bernard as he hobbled along the side of the burning building. The thought of the bastard slithering away again ate at her insides. She could never be safe if he escaped.

  Aiden screamed again, “Go, damn it! Save the others.”

  The beast turned toward her with a roar. She froze in his glare. The First licked his teeth.

  Aiden retrieved his flashlight from the ground and raised it above his head. He slammed it against the beast’s thick skull, knocking the creature to the ground. “Go,” Aiden shouted.

  “Change, Aiden,” she screamed back. “It’s your only chance.”

  “Just go,” he shouted again.

  Christine started after Bernard, trying to watch Aiden over her shoulder. The werg rose on his hind legs. Please, Aiden, she prayed. Run.

  As she chased Bernard along the burning building, she lost sight of Aiden. She knew she had to trust in his skills, but she still feared she would never see him alive again. Those thoughts allowed her anger to grow along with the tightness in her chest. This time she wouldn’t fight the change; this time she would use her curse to make Bernard pay for what he had done to everyone.

  As she ran, a sudden jerk of her leg tripped her up and hurled her face-first into the grass. She lifted her head in time to see Bernard disappear around another building lined with garage doors. The bones of her other leg snapped and changed as well. Her transformation was quicker and less painful this time, and she was back on her feet within seconds.

  The stink of Bernard’s blood was thick in the air, even over the burning stink of the hovering smoke. She dropped to all fours and gave chase. He wouldn’t stand a chance.

  Aiden welcomed his change as The First lunged again. Their fight drove them back toward the gate. While still half-man and half-beast he didn’t have the strength for a head-on assault and he knew it. He used the momentum of The First’s next attack to deflect the beast into the wall of the guard booth. While The First shook off his collision with the wall, Aiden completed his change. He was ready, full of rage and void of any inhibitions he had as a man. He could think of nothing but murder.

  The First pounced. Aiden met the creature in mid-air and together they crashed to the ground. Aiden lunged for the beast’s throat, but was too slow, The First too strong.

  Tearing pain shot up Aiden’s arm. He pulled away, but more pain ripped through his chest. He collapsed to his back, momentarily free of The First’s clutches.

  Aiden bounced to his feet. His claws met the flesh of The First, but the enemy werg wasn’t fazed and clamped his teeth down onto Aiden’s shoulder. Aiden howled in pain. With all of his strength, he yanked The First’s snout from his flesh, tearing meat and muscle away. The First was relentless and dragged his claw across Aiden’s face. Blood burned Aiden’s eyes, blinding him. He fell to his back again. Pain exploded in his waist.

  Aiden swung his claw in blind fury. By sheer luck he struck the beast’s chest, sending his enemy crashing against the wrought-iron gate, the impact knocking it from its hinges. The First yelped. Aiden rubbed the bloody blurriness from his eyes and sought out his enemy. He found him impaled on the fence, one of the decorative iron pickets of the gate protruding from the right side of his chest. The First squirmed to free himself.

  Aiden wanted to pounce—every primal urge in his body screamed for him to—but some hint of conscious thought held him back. Perhaps it was self-preservation or even fear. Perhaps he was too wounded to stand a chance. Or perhaps it was the faint sound of a roaring truck muffler speeding toward the compound.

  The First pushed against the fence and pried himself free of the bloody iron spear. He rose onto his hind legs with a hate-filled roar.

  Instead of engaging, Aiden backed away. The sound of the approaching truck grew louder. Headlights appeared through the fence. The First hesitated, his murderous trance broken. The truck appeared outside the compound and it was coming fast.

  The First scrambled like a startled rabbit as the truck burst through the mangled gate. The truck’s grill crumpled against the beast’s back with an explosion of metal and plastic and blood. The truck slid to a stop, hurling The First through the air. He thudded to the ground near Aiden’s side, motionless.

  The truck’s front doors flew open. One man jumped from the smashed vehicle, trailing a cloud of dust from the airbags. Another man struggled out, one of his legs in a brace.

  “There’s one,” the man with the brace shouted.

  Aiden recognized their scents. It was Greg and Jeffrey. And they were there to clean up.

  Greg aimed his assault rifle. Aiden spun away, dropped to all fours, and retreated as the gunfire erupted from behind. He leaped over a wooden fence into the corral, out of the hunters’ direct line of sight. A barrage of bullets ripped through the fence above his head. Aiden pressed himself flat to the ground
until the gunfire ended.

  With every ounce of self-awareness he could muster, Aiden forced himself to change back. The pain of his many wounds from his battle with The First intensified as his transformation completed. The color returned to the world. He scanned the corral. Wandering wergs were everywhere. With the gunfire momentarily halted, three of the wergs sniffed the air and investigated closer.

  Aiden shouted, “Beat it,” and lunged at them with closed fists, which sent the docile creatures scattering.

  Aiden peered through a gap in the corral’s wooden fencing. Greg and Jeffrey approached with guns ready, outlined by the headlights of their truck. Aiden searched the corral for somewhere to hide, but he knew if he didn’t fight back, all of the wergs would be slaughtered. He wanted to save the creatures, not hand them over to his former team.

  Turning back toward the approaching men, he stood up and climbed over the fence. He waited beside the corral, naked and cold. Greg and Jeffrey stopped halfway between him and their truck.

  “Talik,” Greg shouted. “Good to see you again.”

  “Cut the bullshit, Greg. I know why you’re here.”

  “Well, I’d say it’s rather obvious.”

  Like the trained soldier he was, Jeffrey limped from the glare of the truck’s headlights into the dark. Though his injured knee slowed him, Aiden knew he was still deadly.

  Greg shouted, “Jeffrey, go check on The First and make sure he’s dead.”

  “Got it,” Jeffrey answered.

  Greg looked back to Aiden with a smirk. “How do you plan to get away this time? I see you’re not hiding any weapons. Or if you are, I don’t wanna know where.”

  “No weapons,” Aiden answered. “I have no way out. I’m asking you as your long-time friend to give up this assignment. The WereHouse is finished. You’re not going to get paid for killing me. We were friends once. Try to remember that.”

  “You’re one of those filthy creatures now, Talik. We aren’t friends anymore. Besides, you know what we did and you know we did it willingly. We kill people. That’s our job. You did it, too.”

  “I didn’t know they were people, Greg.”

  “Details,” Greg said, lifting his gun to his shoulder and training his sights on Aiden.

  Aiden raised his hands above his head.

  “Turn around, Aiden. I don’t want to see your face when I do this.”

  Aiden shook his head. “You’re going to look me in the eyes when you pull that trigger, Greg.”

  “Suit yourself.” Greg rolled his shoulder and repositioned the butt of his gun against it. He cracked his neck sideways and then took aim.

  Sirens wailed in the distance, assuring this mess would be over soon one way or the other. Aiden took a deep breath. “Don’t do it, Greg,” he whispered. He looked into the budding sunrise. It was beautiful and he smiled.

  Jeffrey shouted from Aiden’s left, “The First is gone, Greg. Hurry up and kill him so we can get the hell outta here before that monster shows up ag—”

  The air left his lungs with a wheeze. Greg redirected his gun toward Jeffrey and staggered back a step.

  Jeffrey gurgled as The First lifted his body from the ground. His gun dropped from his limp hand. He didn’t have a chance. Aiden whispered a prayer for his one-time friend.

  The First held Jeffrey’s throat in his mouth and shook him like a dog with a toy. Jeffrey’s throat ripped open and his body thudded to the ground. He convulsed in the grass until his body ran out of blood.

  Greg unleashed a barrage of bullets at the murdering werg. The First leaped forward, undaunted by the hail of gunfire. Greg unloaded his clip as he stumbled backward. His silver bullets did little to slow the raging beast’s advance.

  This was Aiden’s only chance. Greg hurled his empty weapon to the ground and drew a pistol as The First closed in. Greg fired a single shot before the beast crashed into him, knocking him down and landing on his chest. Aiden sprinted past them toward the truck. The First swatted at him as he passed, missing his leg by inches.

  Greg was a talented hunter, there was no doubt, and he squeezed off two more shots from beneath the creature. Aiden didn’t need to watch to know the fight was in vain. Screams and gurgling cries replaced the gunshots.

  Aiden reached the truck. He climbed into the back, lifted the seat, and pulled a duffel bag from the floorboards. In the past his team had harassed him for keeping a back-up bag of weapons and clothes in each of their vehicles. They weren’t laughing now.

  A yank on the zipper revealed his beautiful arsenal—a loaded AK-47, several pistols, a flash grenade, and a custom-made silver-bladed knife. He cocked his AK-47 and threw the bag over his shoulder. A loud crash rocked the truck sideways. He spun toward the front. The First ripped the driver’s door from its hinges and tossed it aside like it was weightless.

  Aiden squeezed off three rounds. The First retreated from the assault and ducked behind the front of the truck. Aiden considered turning back into a werg, but his painful failure before proved that as a werg he was no match for the older, more experienced creature. Instead, he decided his only chance was to face The First as the rogue hunter he had always been. He dove from the passenger door, twisted, and landed on his back.

  The First sailed over the hood. Aiden aimed and fired three shots from his AK-47, one of which sizzled through The First’s chest, narrowly missing the beast’s heart. The First didn’t flinch and swatted the gun from his hands with a roar.

  Aiden ripped the pistol from his bag and fired two more shots into the beast before the creature’s flesh-tearing claws laid open his forearm, knocking the pistol to the ground. He had seen very few wergs in such a rage that they withstood the effects of silver for more than a few seconds, but this beast wasn’t just an ordinary werg.

  The First threw his head back and howled.

  Aiden pulled the pin from the flash-grenade and tossed it straight up into the air. He pressed his arms against his ears and rolled to his side. The First lunged forward, his teeth shooting toward Aiden’s throat.

  The flash grenade exploded in the beast’s face. The concussion rattled Aiden’s bones. His ears rang. He moved his arms, surprised he was still able, and the pain that came with his movements let him know he wasn’t dead. The First staggered away from the truck. Aiden scrambled to his feet, pushing away the throbbing pain that enveloped him. He pulled out his blade, his anger boiling to the top again and dropped the bag to the ground. “Don’t change,” he begged the crushing ache in his chest. “Not yet.” He leaped onto the beast’s back.

  The First spun and tried to buck him off, but he held tight and drove his silver blade between the beast’s shoulder blades. The creature howled in pain; his flesh sizzled. Aiden ripped the knife free and sank it into the werg’s flesh again and again until The First dropped to his knees. In his rage, Aiden lost count of how many times he plunged his blade into the beast’s back, but it was enough to stop the creature’s fight.

  Aiden stood behind him, fighting his change with every ounce of restraint. The muscles in his face twitched, his bones snapped and cracked, but he continued fighting the inevitable. With his foot, he shoved The First forward onto his face. He rolled the gasping beast onto his back and straddled him.

  Aiden couldn’t slow his breathing. He heard animal snorts and realized they came from his own mouth. His leg jolted and mangled, throwing him off balance, but he steadied himself above the beast’s chest. Without remorse, he drove his blade into the beast’s heart again and again and again. His own skull deformed as he finished his bloody work.

  The First released a final cry before his eyes went dead. Aiden used every ounce of humanity he could muster just to stop plunging his knife into the creature’s chest again. He raised his blade into the air with a primal scream.

  He roared like a beast.

  Like the king of beasts.

  He panted until he could calm himself.

  Then he began to lick the bleeding wound on his forearm.


  35

  SAVAGE DEFENSE

  CHRISTINE followed Bernard’s scent along the side of the burning WereHouse until the heat was unbearable. His trail led her into a walkway between the stables and a long, one-story building lined with overhead doors like a storage facility.

  Bernard was four doors away when he slowed and doubled over with his hands on his knees. He must have heard her, for he glanced over his shoulder and spun around, his eyes wide with terror. He had good reason to fear her. She was going to kill him and there was nothing he could do to stop her.

  She slowed a few yards short, cautious like a hunter.

  He held his hands in front of his chest as if surrendering as he backed against one of the overhead doors. “Wait, wait, wait,” he said between gasps for air. “Before you kill me, I have,” he panted and stalled, “something for you.”

  She tilted her head, curious. Bernard fished through his front pockets and removed a key ring.

  Christine stalked closer.

  “Wait,” he shouted. “Your friend, Billy. He’s behind this door. I’ll free him. It’s the least I can do after what I’ve done.”

  She hesitated, not believing a word from his lying tongue. She should kill him, take the keys, and free Billy on her own. She growled.

  Like a good salesman, he backpedaled for a better deal. “Please. Let me do this one good thing before you kill me.” He smiled a nervous smile. “I won’t fight you.”

  She glared at him as he bent over to the padlock at the bottom of the door and unlocked it. Her instincts told her Bernard had a trick up his sleeve, but the constant fight in her head between her humanity and feral rage held her back. She didn’t want to be the animal; she wanted to be who she was before all of this shit happened to her.

  And like a good predator, Bernard preyed on that humanity. He lifted the door with a grin. She knew she had made a fatal mistake, even before he dove away from the opening.

  Two savage wergs exploded from the darkness. Christine stumbled backward. They stopped between her and Bernard, savoring the coming battle.