Wolf Island td-8

by Darren Shan

  Finally, when he has about a metre to go, I cough softly.

  He freezes. Moans. Gives the boat an especially strong tug. Doesn’t look up.

  “Antoine,” I laugh, stepping towards him.

  He looks back, gauging how much further he has to go. His arms relax and his shoulders slump when he realises he can’t make it. He turns his desolate gaze on me and his eyes widen as he takes in my monstrous form, my blood-soaked body and limbs, my fangs and wolfen face.

  “What happened to you?” he gasps.

  “Teenage angst,” I chuckle. I whistle at the werewolves and they spread out. Meera, Timas and Prae are directly behind me.

  Antoine shrieks when he spots the werewolves. Turns and races for the edge, to leap into the sea below. Drawing from the faint traces of magic in the air, I halt him, exerting an invisible hold over the fallen executive. He struggles wildly, then sees that it’s hopeless. Giving up, he faces me.

  “I’m going to kill you,” I growl, advancing menacingly. “Juni got away, so I’m going to take out all my frustration on you. It will be slow and painful. Suitable payback for the lives you’ve ruined, the friends of mine you’ve killed.”

  “I didn’t kill anyone!” he squeals.

  “No, your kind never do,” I sneer. “You leave it to others. You just set things up and give the orders.”

  “Please,” Antoine sobs, throwing himself to his knees. “Don’t do this. It serves no purpose. Put me on trial. Let the proper authorities deal with me. You’re not a killer. There’s no evil in your soul. Don’t—”

  “Look at me!” I roar. “Do you think you’ll be the first I’ve killed today? I wasn’t a murderer, but you changed me. I’m a monster now. And I’m hungry.”

  “Meera!” Antoine whines. “Prae! Please, I beg you. You’re civilised people. Help me.”

  “We can’t,” Prae says coldly. “Even if we wanted to—and personally I have no problem with him gutting you—we couldn’t. He’s not ours to control. He’s one of your specimens. You helped create him—now you have to deal with him.”

  Antoine stares at Prae in disbelief. I draw closer, growling softly in anticipation of the kill. Antoine’s eyes harden. “Don’t be so hasty, my hairy friend,” he murmurs, sounding more like his old self. “There are others to consider.”

  “Like who?”

  “Your uncle,” he says smoothly, and I come to an abrupt halt.

  Antoine rises, brushing dirt from his shirt and trousers. He frowns at his untidy condition, then runs a hand through his hair and shrugs. “I suppose this means an expensive trip to my tailor when I get back.”

  “You’ve got five seconds to tell me what you know about Dervish,” I snarl.

  “Oh, I have more time than that,” Antoine grins. “Your uncle’s in a perilous situation. There are forces moving against him even as we speak. It will take more than five seconds to—”

  “Tell me!” I shout. “Now. Or I’ll torture it out of you.

  “I’m sure you could,” Antoine says slickly, “but how long would it take? I’ll hold out as long as I can, just to spite you. After all, you’ve already vowed to torment me. I don’t know how long I can stand the pain, but minutes are precious. Do you dare waste them?”

  I want to throttle him so badly it hurts. But he knows how important Dervish is to me. I don’t want to cut a deal with this treacherous viper, but time’s against me.

  “What do you want?” I growl.

  “My life,” Antoine replies.

  I think about it, then curse. “OK. I won’t kill you. Now talk.”

  “Not so fast,” Antoine says. “I want to add a few conditions before I divulge all that I know. Such as a boat without a hole in it, a compass and map, some—”

  “Time’s all you have to bargain with!” I snap. “If you don’t tell me what you know immediately, I might as well torture you.”

  Antoine licks his lips nervously, then decides he has no choice but to play out the hand and hope for the best.

  “A trap was laid for your uncle and some others,” he says. “The girl called Bec was the one they wanted, but your uncle and Beranabus were important to them too. Juni didn’t reveal all the details, but from what I gathered, the trap was partially successful. Beranabus was killed, but the—”

  “No!” Meera cries, taking a step in front of me. “Beranabus can’t be dead.”

  “According to Juni, he is,” Antoine says calmly.

  “But—” Meera starts to exclaim.

  “Leave it,” I cut in. “If Beranabus is dead, he’s dead. Let this worm finish telling us what he knows about Dervish.”

  Meera doesn’t like it, but she pulls back.

  “Bec and your uncle escaped,” Antoine continues. “The attack took place at sea, on a giant cruiser. They got off before it sank and are adrift in a lifeboat. Juni was furious. When she calmed down, she told me to send a crew to intercept the lifeboat and finish the job. They have instructions to kill Dervish and bring Bec back alive. Taking no chances, I roused three separate units and dispatched them from different locations. The first should be upon your uncle—” He checks his watch. “in sixteen minutes.”

  “Call them off,” I hiss.

  “I can’t from here,” he smirks. “But if you would kindly accompany me to my temporary office…”

  I tremble with rage and hatred. If only I could rip the tongue from his mouth and swallow it whole—that would wipe the smirk from his face. But he has the upper hand, at least until I know that Dervish is safe. I’ll have to allow him his smugness for a while. I start to agree to take him to his office, but Timas speaks before me.

  “There’s no need to relocate. I can see a radio unit in one of the boats. There are telephones and computer terminals set in the walls. We can communicate with the outside world from here.”

  “No,” Antoine snaps. “There are things in my office which I need.”

  “Such as?” Timas asks with a little smile.

  Antoine glowers. I see in his features that he had a plan in mind. The office was an excuse. He thought he could trick us and escape some other way.

  “Don’t play games,” I say softly. “Your only hope is to prove that Dervish is alive and that we need you to protect him. If I think you’re trying to weasel out, all bets are off and all promises are revoked.”

  “Come with me,” Timas says commandingly, taking Antoine by the elbow and leading him to one side. “We’ll work on it together. Tell me everything you did and how to undo it. I’ll see to the rest.”

  “But… my equipment…” Antoine says weakly.

  “We have all the equipment we need,” Timas says, taking a radio unit from a boat and fiddling with the dials.

  With a bitter sigh, Antoine casts aside whatever plan he had in mind, sits beside Timas and talks.

  The minutes pass quickly. Part of me is sure we’ll be too late. Antoine’s Lambs will have caught a strong wind and picked up Bec sooner than anticipated. Gunned Dervish down and dumped him in the sea for the fishes to feast on. I’m prepared for the worst and ready to rip Antoine to pieces when he breaks the bad news. My wolfen half is looking forward to that. It doesn’t care about Dervish or anything except slaughter and feeding. Dimly aware of Timas and Antoine talking on the radio, Antoine issuing codes and commands. Meera and Prae are listening in, but I’m too agitated to follow it all. I have very little patience since I changed.

  Thinking about Juni’s prediction again. I want to dismiss it. Me? Destroy the world? Ridiculous!

  Except… it isn’t. I’ve known since that night in the cave outside Carcery Vale that I have the power to annihilate not just a world, but a universe. Beranabus believed the Kah-Gash could be used against the Demonata, but it’s a demonic weapon. Why should it work for us against those who created it?

  I wish the contrary old magician was here. I need advice and guidance. But according to Antoine he’s dead, killed on a ship, lost at sea. I should be in shock. I never liked the old
buzzard, but he’s protected this world for more than a thousand years and he’s been my mentor for the last several months. His death should have hit me hard. But I only feel annoyed—why did he let himself fall into a trap now, of all times, when he was most needed?

  “There we go,” Antoine says, turning away from the radio. He salutes me with a sneer.

  “What’s the story?” I bark at Timas.

  “We converted the assassination squad into a rescue crew,” Timas says. “I was going to send Disciples, but it was simpler to use those already close to the scene. They’ve taken the survivors on board and are flying back, but not to the city where Juni had arranged to meet them.”

  “Dervish?” I mutter, dreading the response.

  “Alive,” Timas says. “In bad shape—all three of them are—but breathing.”

  “Three?” Meera echoes.

  “Dervish, Bec and a Disciple called Kirilli Kovacs. You know him?” Meera shakes her head. “Apparently he was on board when they went to the ship.”

  “What about Sharmila?” Meera asks.

  “Dead,” Timas says simply. “Along with Beranabus. Maybe Kernel too, but they weren’t sure about that. A few thousand passengers and crew were murdered also.”

  “A good day’s work,” Meera snaps at Antoine.

  “You can’t blame me for what happened on the ship,” he huffs. “I had nothing to do with that.” He smiles thinly at me. “Those on board the helicopter have orders to release the hostages only in my presence. A little insurance policy.”

  I stare at Antoine without blinking. “Dervish is safe?” I ask Timas.

  “Yes.”

  “Then we’re finished here.”

  I still haven’t blinked. Antoine’s fidgeting now.

  “You haven’t forgotten your promise, have you?” he laughs, trying but failing to sound light-hearted.

  I shake my head slowly. And grin wolfishly.

  “I assume you’re a man of your word?” Antoine says stiffly.

  “I’m not a man,” I answer quietly. “But yes,” I add as he turns an even paler shade of white beneath his tan. “I said I wouldn’t kill you, and I won’t.”

  Antoine breaks into a smile. All his confidence and arrogance come flooding back. He takes a step forward, eager to establish control of the situation. I raise a gnarled, semi-human hand to stop him.

  “I said I wouldn’t kill you,” I repeat slowly. “But I said nothing about them.” I gesture at the five werewolves.

  Antoine laughs feebly. He thinks I’m joking. Then he looks deeper into my eyes and realises I’m as serious as death.

  “No!” he croaks. “You can’t. Your uncle—they’ll kill him if I’m not there.”

  “I’ll take that chance,” I chuckle, then click my tongue. Five pairs of wolfen ears prick to attention and the room fills with growls of grisly delight.

  “Please,” Antoine sobs, backing up. “I did what you asked. I cooperated.”

  I turn my back on him and nod at Meera, Timas and Prae.

  “Are you certain you want to do this?” Meera asks as the werewolves advance and Antoine whimpers and begs for mercy.

  “Yes,” I say flatly.

  “It’s a callous act,” she warns. “This will stain your soul forever. You might regret it when—”

  “When what?” I snap. “When I turn back into a human? When we defeat the Demonata and skip off into the sunset, holding hands? That isn’t going to happen. This is what I am. Get used to it.”

  I step out of the room, feeling nothing but a dim sense of pleasure that Dervish is alive. “I don’t think I have a soul any longer, if I ever had to begin with,” I tell Meera softly. “And my only regret is that there aren’t more like Antoine to kill.”

  Then the air fills with Antoine’s screams. I march ahead without looking back, smiling savagely as the scent of the traitor’s blood reaches my nostrils. I lift my nose and breathe in deep. My eyes narrow. My mouth waters. My stomach growls.

  Delicious.

  LAST MAN STANDING

  I want to leave the island immediately, take a boat and sail for civilisation, to be reunited with Dervish. But there are details to sort out first. As anxious as I am to press on, I don’t want to leave a job half-done.

  First, with Timas leading the way, we sweep the compound in search of any survivors. I’m not sure if I’d take them captive or kill them, but there aren’t any, so that’s a question which ultimately doesn’t require answering. Werewolves howl gratefully as I pass. Their previous leader never treated them to anything like this. They think it’s going to be like this all the time, dozens of soldiers to feast on every day. I’m sorry that I’ll have to disappoint them. Maybe I can round up more of Antoine’s collaborators and send them over—home delivery, Grubbs Grady style!

  Once we’re sure the compound’s clean, Prae asks if I can move the werewolves out, so that she can reestablish the perimeter.

  “Everything’s changed,” she sighs, running a hand through her grey hair. “We can’t take them back—I won’t subject them to slavery and experimentation again, not after this—but we can’t just leave them here. They’d starve.”

  “I’m taking some with me,” I tell her and all three of them stare at me. “The attacks won’t stop. Juni will send others against us. We’ll have to fight again. And again. I’d rather do that with my pack than without them.”

  “But how will you control them?” Meera asks. “Off this island… in a city… you can’t keep them like hounds.”

  “Yes, I can,” I growl. “I’ll have to treat them to a kill every so often, but that shouldn’t be a problem, not with the sort of action I’m anticipating. I won’t take them all, just the more advanced. Thirty, forty… no more than fifty.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Meera says.

  “Too bad,” I grunt. “Demons can’t be killed by normal humans, but these have been tainted by the blood of the Demonata. They’re creatures of magic. They can kill just about anything Lord Loss sends against us. So they’re coming with me.”

  “What about the rest?” Prae asks before Meera can force an argument. “Will you move them out of the compound, so that I can restore the wall? I’ll remain here and order supplies, do what I can to make their lives as pleasant as possible. This will be my new mission, putting right some of the many things I did wrong.”

  “You really think you can?” I frown. “Antoine wasn’t working alone. The Lambs betrayed you. Are you sure you can make demands of them now?”

  “I know most of those who sided with Antoine,” Prae says, cheeks flushing with anger. “I’m sure I can expose the rest. I’ll knock the Lambs back into shape. Remind everyone of our original mandate—to help those afflicted with the curse. We’ll still search for a cure, but we won’t breed or lie anymore. We won’t even need to execute. We can offer an alternative now—this island.”

  “A holiday resort for werewolves?” I chuckle.

  Prae smiles. “It sounds crazy, but why not? We couldn’t do it before—they’d have ripped each other to pieces. But they’ve been altered. The modified creatures can control the others. We’ll do the rest, feed them, guard them from the outside world, introduce new members into the fold as we reap them over the years.”

  I like the idea of a werewolf sanctuary. “OK. I’ll give the order to retreat. You get to work on the walls. But Prae,” I stop her as she turns. “If you don’t treat them right, I’ll come back. Understand?”

  “My daughter’s one of them,” Prae says tightly. “I’ll treat them right.” Then she leaves, Timas in close attendance to help her with the computers, while I howl and direct my pack towards the exits.

  As the werewolves depart, I scan them for the strongest and smartest. I grunt at those I like the look of and hold them back. They willingly group behind me. They don’t know what I want, but they trust me and wait as patiently as they can.

  I gather thirty-seven in total. Large, muscular, spectacularly u
gly beasts. The weirdest personal army in history, but they won’t let me down. We’ll kill demons together, as many as Lord Loss and the Shadow pit against us. Bathe in their blood. Grow fat on their flesh. Sharpen our fangs on their bones.

  My wolfen troops put Shark’s dirty dozen to shame. I smile wryly when I think about the ex-soldier. He would have appreciated the final push, the slaughter and blood-drenched victory. He’d have understood why I had to kill Horwitzer. Antoine was a worm who had to be squashed. Meera thinks I’m a monster for ordering his death, but Shark would have done the same. So would Beranabus and Dervish.

  A year ago… hell, even a few hours ago, I wouldn’t have. I was a child, with a naive sense of honour. Not anymore. We’re fighting a war. The survival of the human race is at stake. Winning is all that matters. If we have to become kill-crazed beasts to defeat the demons, so be it.

  We don’t have the luxury of guilt. Those of us who protect the world must place ourselves outside the morals of those we fight for.

  When the last sated member of my pack crawls past, dragging a half-chewed leg, I give Prae and Timas the signal. They throw the relevant switches and the panels of the wall rumble back into place, sealing us off from the open spaces of Wolf Island. As the panels clang shut, my heart aches slightly. I want to be outside with the jubilant werewolves, running free. But I have obligations. My place lies away from this island.

  “Come on,” I growl at Meera and Timas. “Let’s lower the boats and get the hell out of here.”

  “If you need help sorting out the Lambs, give me a call,” Meera tells Prae. “I’ll do whatever I can.”

  “Thank you.” Prae smiles weakly. “I think I’ll be able to handle matters myself, but I’ll bear your offer in mind. Good luck with whatever you’re heading off to do. I suspect our problems are minor compared to yours. I hope—”

  “Wait!” I snap, stopping near the edge of the cliff. A few of the boats were torn to pieces by the werewolves while we were waiting for Timas to open the doors of the compound, but most are intact and secured in place. One, however, has been lowered, and a rope ladder dangles next to where it stood. Creeping forward, I glance over the edge and spot a figure below, bobbing about in a boat. It’s a man. He’s lying on his back, as if soaking up the sun.