“Yes,” he said in a flat tone. “That’s exactly what we need to do.”
At that moment a chittering metallic sound erupted from a raised stage area. Where a grand piano might normally have been a velvet blanket was now being whisked aside to reveal a man behind a gun. Not just any gun. It was a M61 Gatling fed by an ominously large ammo belt. Florence met Jack’s eye with genuine fear - those 7.62mm rounds packed enough punch to penetrate werewolf skin. But that wasn’t the kicker. Those rounds looked like they were made from sterling silver - just one of those things would be enough to shut down a werewolf’s circulatory system within seconds. A werewolf’s kryptonite.
“Down!” Jack screamed.
The Gatling opened fire as Florence threw herself to the plush carpet. As she launched into a furiously desperate crawl she realized that tables and chairs were not gonna cut it - the cream of the Lycan Society was about to be slaughtered.
9 - Tomas
Berlin, Germany
TOMAS PACED UP and down a corridor somewhere in the bowels of the Grand Ferdinand. The sound of the Gatling opening fire somewhere above him did nothing to calm his nerves. He could only wonder at how many lycans Herr X had lured into his trap this day. Considering the prize at stake - a diviner - it was probably the cream of the entire New York Chapter.
He would never admit it to his master, but Herr X was taking a big risk. If the werewolves somehow survived the Gatling, there was a chance the diviner would be lost to the enemy. And Herr X had barely had a chance to use the girl’s extraordinary powers. Sure, he’d been divined, but he was trying not to think about that.
No, Herr X seemed more intent on using the diviner as bait than for what she was born to do. He didn’t even seem interested in his own spirit beast. Or perhaps he had gotten himself divined in secret. It was hard to tell. The Berlin Club was a most unpredictable entity.
A low growl from the end of the corridor reminded Tomas that there was always Plan B. If the werewolves got past the Gatling, the monster of his own creation awaited them. Right now it was trapped in an old elevator that could be directed to the ground floor at a moment’s notice.
It was a surreal to think that something like a chimera could be bought to life. By his own hands. A cold, hard part of him wanted to see the thing in action. After all, it was the culmination of years of hard work. Herr X had spent a fortune on it, especially in the last few weeks. It was now capable of moving for up to an hour before it’s heart stopped.
More than enough time to shred these werewolves from New York. Of course, the humanitarian in him abhorred the idea of violence, especially by one of his own creations. He constantly needed to remind himself that he was just a scientist. He wasn’t the one who hauled the chimera to Berlin and put it in that elevator. But no matter how hard he applied logic to the situation, there was still a nagging sense of guilt in his mind, building slowly like a cancer.
Vlado and a couple of his thugs bustled their way down the corridor.
“Sankovic is dead,” snapped Vlado in Tomas’s general direction. “Ready your beast.”
A chill swam down Tomas’s intestines. So it was going to happen. The werewolves had killed Sankovic, the man they had hidden under a blanket with the silver Gatling.
Vlado and his men stood waiting for Tomas to do something. Assholes - they wanted him to be the one to activate the elevator. Some kind of twisted way of testing his loyalty.
Frowning with irritation, Tomas stepped forward as if on a cloud. The elevator’s control panel had been torn open and manually overridden. All he had to do was press the ground floor button and all hell was break loose.
He sank his finger into the red circle, muttering a little prayer. Since did he begin doing that? Was he losing his mind?
All he could do was look back at Vlado as the elevator rose to the ground floor and opened with a ding. They heard a terrifying scream - the chimera’s exultation of freedom. It would instinctively hunt the werewolves. Tomas was certain of that. For the moment it was alive, and most living things attacked those that represented a threat.
The seconds ticked by. Even Vlado looked pensive, clearly afraid of the chimera. A low cry of anguish resonated through the old walls. A werewolf? Human?
Tomas tried to stifle a surge of anxiety and failed. This was too much. He could already feel blood on his hands.
Ignoring Vlado and his goons, Tomas called the elevator and stepped in. The walls were covered in gore where the chimera had butted its head repeatedly in an effort to escape. All he could hear as he rode to the ground floor was his heart beat hammering in his ears. The foyer had gone quiet. The doors slid open.
Tomas stepped forward warily, the acrid smell of blood and meat in the air.
A hideous screech made him flinch. It seemed loud but was from the far end of the foyer. He negotiated a huge marble pillar just in time to see the chimera swiping at an unseen target. The thing seemed much bigger live than it did sprawled across an operating table. Its skin was as disgusting as ever - scabby, bloody and hairy only in coarse patches. The body was that of a werewolf, but much bigger. The horrific goat’s head seemed small on such a large frame. The tail snake hovered in the air with lethal intent.
Tables and chairs tumbled and spun in all directions. The creature’s strength was immense. They said lycans were damned near indestructible, but a swipe from that thing would be more than enough to knock one senseless.
And then there were the claws. They weren’t all there due to genetic anomalies, but the ones it had were big, curved daggers that could surely rip open a werewolf’s tough hide. Tomas shuddered to think what a chimera could do with soft human flesh.
Wary of flying wood, Tomas inched his way along the west wall, ready to duck under a table as soon as he needed to.
He had absolutely no idea what he would do when he got closer to the beast. There was no plan, no logic. He just felt that he should be close to his creation and bear witness to its destruction. It just seemed more honorable than cowering underground while it eviscerated complete strangers.
Tomas knew he was being completely ridiculous. He had a family to think about. He was also under no illusion that the chimera would spare him. The thing was a loose cannon, a wrecking machine. Humanity’s only saving grace was the time limit on the thing’s weak heart. The thing would ‘die’ again before it could decimate the entire city.
The closer Tomas got to the thing, the more he hated it. It was one thing to be proven right on some kind of scientific level, but on a moral, ethical and spiritual level, he had failed. He could feel that failure burning through his guts as he inched toward the beast.
The thing reared on its two hind legs, grabbed a smoky grey werewolf and slung it brutally against the wall. Tomas heard several bones crunch sickeningly. Right then something snapped in him, and he decided to kill the beast or be killed in the process. The last few years had been some kind of bad dream and it was time to wake up. Come to terms with what he’d created and who’d he created it for.
Even though the hotel foyer was a flurry of muscle, fur and blood, Tomas forced himself to focus. Over to his left he could see a tawny werewolf crouching in front of two young women. He recognized the diviner as one, but couldn’t place the other. She had long, platinum hair and skin like virgin snow. When he looked at her he felt a peculiar sensation from deep within, as if his body was remembering a long lost treasure. It was such an odd sensation he had to pause and look away before he felt himself again.
Needless to say, those girls were in danger and he needed to protect them. A ragged line of werewolves were engaging the chimera’s attention near the hotel entrance. At any other time Tomas would’ve stopped and studied them in amazement. Finally - real live werewolves! He knew next to nothing about the Lycan Society but the concept fascinated him.
As his mind acknowledged their presence he was overcome with another queer feeling, this one overwhelmingly negative. He couldn’t help but feel disgust at the werewol
f smell assailing his nostrils. He tried to tell himself that it was the chimera he was smelling, but every sense screamed at him to get away from the beasts.
Tomas shook his head, trying to banish all these strange feelings. One objective shone through all the confusion - protect the white-haired girl at all costs. He was more than happy to be guided by that instinct.
Filled with renewed purpose, he stepped up to a round platform and positioned himself behind the silver Gatling gun. Below him, the tawny werewolf looked up and snarled. For a moment he thought he was going to be torn apart, but that was a risk he was prepared to take.
The gun itself was not simple to use. Tomas forced his logical mind to register a process whereby he could prime the thing and ensure a steady supply of ammunition. Within ten seconds he was prepped and ready. The chimera had forced the werewolves back, almost against the front entrance. It was about to slaughter them one by one.
His face lilting into a snarl, Tomas pulled the twin triggers. At first the barrel just spun smoothly. Just when Tomas began to wonder if he’d made a terrible mistake, silver 7.62mm slugs squirted free of the lethal weapon. It took all the scientist’s strength to keep the thing trained on the chimera’s back.
The silver hail thudded into the thing’s skin, seemingly having no effect where there was tough, coarse hide, but exploding blood and pus on the exposed skin.
The beast emitted a blood-curdling roar but didn’t turn around. Instead, a whip-like shape hove into Tomas’s view. The beast’s snake tail, moving menacingly from side to side. Tomas stifled a surge of fear and drew the heavy barrel upwards in a reflex action. The stream of bullets crossed paths with the snake’s diamond-patterned body, shredding it into meaty chunks. The snake’s head flew past Tomas’s ear and landed behind him, where it thrashed viciously for several seconds.
This time the chimera did turn around, regarding Tomas with pure hatred. The scientist was hit with a stomach-melting stench - a mixture of rotten flesh and ozone.
The tawny werewolf took the chance to sprint to the front entrance, the young girls in tow. Once she’d gone, the other werewolves closed ranks and formed a defensive arc.
All Tomas could do was keep pumping silver into the hideous thing before him. If he had to die here by the Gatling, then so be it. Some part of his mind insisted he’d done a great thing by enabling the white-haired girl to escape.
The chimera lunged forward and the next thing Tomas knew he was falling backwards off the platform. The heavy Gatling came hurtling behind him, crashing to the floor just inches from his head. The chimera’s impossibly ugly head appeared over the lip of the platform, then disappeared. Judging from its grunt it had been attacked from behind by the werewolves.
Climbing unsteadily to his feet, Tomas dared to look over the platform. Enraged, the chimera swiped at a chestnut brown werewolf and sent it flying across the foyer. It landed awkwardly and did not rise.
Pawing its feet, the chimera snorted like a bull preparing to charge. The werewolves saw the hopelessness of their position and made a run for the front entrance.
The chimera surged forward with surprising speed, crashing through the front entrance and collecting two werewolves on the way through.
Tomas rushed to the brown werewolf amongst the splintered remnants of the furniture. The chimera’s claws had made mince meat of it. Something about the werewolf’s corpse repelled Tomas, and he found himself backing away slowly.
The scientist stumbled across the street and into the large, rambling Britzer Gardens. He could see the chimera bounding along the grass, its flanks flecked with blood. It was a strangely surreal sight on a wintry afternoon in downtown Berlin. He quickened his pace, not wanting to lose his quarry. He needn’t have worried - all he had to do was follow the parade of shocked, pale civilians.
Tomas sprinted down an avenue of oak trees, a pre-dusk breeze whipping through his hair. In the faint light he saw the beast sparring with the werewolves at the base of a grassy hill. The tawny werewolf was dragging the girls to the summit. The chimera, out of spite or rudimentary intelligence, was attempting to chase them down.
The remaining werewolves, led by a charcoal-grey specimen, were courageously throwing themselves before the beast. Tomas slowed down to a walk, trying to calm his heart and focus his mind. He tried to tell himself that every beast had a weak spot. The chimera’s skin was poorly formed and was soft in places, but would they get a chance to slay it with some kind of weapon? The werewolves didn’t seem to be carrying anything lethal.
Tomas spotted a sapling supported by a wooden stake. He pulled the wood from the soil and approached the chimera’s rear.
Settling his nerves, he hurled the stake at a bare patch of skin. It wasn’t sharp enough, bouncing away harmlessly. The beast didn’t even bother turning around.
The charcoal werewolf noticed Tomas’s futile attempt and circled round to flank the chimera while his comrades engaged it directly.
Tomas nodded as the werewolf unwound a grappling hook from its belt. Leaping forward, the werewolf tried to sink the hook into the beast’s hind leg, but the thing moved at the last moment. Seeing the werewolf at its feet, it landed a brutal kick at its torso and face, sending it flying down the side of the hill toward an ornate stone fountain.
Tomas latched onto the germ of an idea. Sprinting from the chimera, he bent low and retrieved the grappling hook from the injured werewolf.
Stepping into the waist-high - and ice cold - fountain water, Tomas plunged the hook into a crevice on a large statue of the god Neptune. He waded through the water, looping the hard cable around the fountain in loose circles. He noted the slimy green coating on the bottom of the fountain. It made every step hazardous.
Once his improbable trap had been laid he was relieved to see the charcoal werewolf stumbling towards him. Perhaps sensing the futility of its run, the tawny werewolf was guiding the girls down the hill to the fountain. Tomas motioned it to bring the humans into the water.
“Why should I trust you?” asked the werewolf suspiciously.
It felt strange to hear a werewolf speak so eloquently - almost like a human. Despite the desperate situation, Tomas felt a twinge of regret at not being able to create a functional werewolf in his lab.
“Because I created that monster and I know how to kill it,” Tomas said with more conviction than he felt.
The werewolf remained silent for a moment before inclining its head.
“If either of these girls are hurt I’m going to kill you,” it muttered as it walked past. Tomas didn’t doubt the tawny werewolf for a second. It seemed much devoted to the girls’ protection.
The werewolf took the frightened girls into the water, where they waited and shivered. The platinum-haired one stepped toward the injured charcoal werewolf, who waved her away. The tawny werewolf made a low whistling noise and the remaining werewolf up the hill sprinted towards the fountain. The chimera was already eying off the water feature, its beady eyes red with fury.
For a moment it pawed at the grass as it gathered its immense strength for a frontal assault. Doubt crept into Tomas’s mind. How was his plan possibly going to work? It was reckless and stupid.
His toxic thoughts were broken when the chimera unleashed a scream and hurtled its way towards them.
Tomas scrambled up the statue of Neptune, standing on the outstretched palms. He made eye contact with the tawny werewolf.
“Put the girls in front,” he yelled. The beast frowned but did as he asked. He assumed she would pull them away at the last moment.
Time seemed to slow down as the chimera approached in a lather. With amazing power for something so heavy it leapt into the fountain where, as Tomas predicted, it skidded on the slime coating on the bottom.
The tawny werewolf fulfilled its end of the bargain, stealing the girls away and shoving them behind the statue. Tomas grabbed hold of the cable loops he’d created earlier.
The chimera shuddered into the statue with a meaty crunch, c
racking the marble in several places. Tomas leapt off the statue and found himself crouching on the chimera’s back, which was for the moment immobile. With a desperate lunge he looped the cables around the monster’s neck before being flung into the air.
His landing was both awkward and painful. His right shoulder struck the edge of the fountain and for a moment he thought a bone had cracked. Pain lanced down his arm and across his shoulders, enough to block out the world for several seconds.
When he finally opened his eyes he saw, to his immense relief, exactly what he’d planned - the werewolves, quick to respond, had taken hold of the cable at the back of the statue and were strangling the chimera with all their might.
Four werewolves and two girls, their hands red raw from tugging at the grappling cable. Pinned to the statue, the chimera thrashed and shrieked, its limbs flailing in all directions. There was something tragic about its fight for life. The statue lilted and threatened to fall - if that happened the werewolves’ hold on the thing would be relinquished. Tomas held his breath, praying that the old marble was strong enough to bear the strain.
The desperate chimera dashed it’s red-eyed goat head repeatedly against the marble, doing itself great damage in the hope of escaping. The three werewolves held their line, yanking viciously on the cable at the dark one’s signal.
The chimera stiffened, it’s horrible arms splayed, then it shuddered one last time before slumping into a sitting position. Its breath diminished in the cold dusk air. Silence settled on the Britzer Gardens. Gradually Tomas became aware of the muffled gasps from the respectable German couples who thought they’d take a pleasant, bracing walk before dinner.
Now that it was all over, Tomas’s body ached and throbbed with pain. His damaged shoulder screamed at him. Two of the werewolves made their way back toward the Hotel Grand Ferdinand.
“The Berlin Club,” he called out. “That way is dangerous.”
The charcoal werewolf’s eyes burned with anger. “We don’t leave anyone behind,” it snarled.
The Lycan Society (The Flux Age Book 1) Page 11
