“Shit. That explains why they know so bloody much about us.” She paused, then shook her head. “It doesn’t change anything. Getting my brother away from here is all that’s important right now.”
Marie turned away from Daniel and strode down the corridor. Daniel caught up to her and grabbed her wrist. “We might not get another chance like this. Their werewolf expert is here. Their research is here. If we can get Michael out, destroy their work and kill Wilkinson, then we have to try. There’s more at stake here than just your brother.”
She snarled at Daniel and pushed him against the wall. “Michael is our priority. He’s the only one that can stop the pack from tearing itself apart. Once we get him out of here, feel free to come back and tie up the loose ends. Until then, we stick to the fucking plan. Am I making myself clear?”
Daniel raised his hands in surrender. “As crystal. Let’s get this over with.”
They hurried along the plain corridors, passing darkened laboratories and offices until they arrived at a reinforced steel door with a numeric keypad inset into the wall beside it. Marie punched in the code they’d got from Rose, and the lock disengaged. As the door swung open, Marie’s hand went to her mouth.
Michael lay naked on a metal autopsy table in the centre of the room. Thick nylon straps across his limbs, chest and forehead prevented him from moving, while an array of machines monitored his vital signs. An IV drip fed a cocktail of drugs into his system, while a metal tray beside the table contained an array of vicious, bloodstained surgical implements. Even without enhanced senses, Marie was almost overwhelmed by the stench of blood and excrement that billowed from the room like a noxious cloud.
“Fuckers!”
She raced into the room, tore the drip from her brother’s arm and loosened the restraining straps. “Michael. Can you hear me? It’s Marie. I’ve come to get you out of here.”
If Michael registered her presence, he made no sign. But for the shallow rise and fall of his chest, her brother could have been dead. The drugs they had him on were clearly doing their job well. Marie turned to Daniel, who stood in the doorway, and shook her head. There was no way they’d just be able to walk out of here with Michael in this condition. It was time to take more drastic action.
She unplugged the machines that monitored her brother’s condition and ripped the sensors from his body. “Michael, I’m really sorry about this, but it’s the only way.” She reached into the pocket of her combat jacket and removed a large syringe, then probed his torso with her fingers until she found the faint beat of his heart and stabbed the adrenaline injection into her brother’s chest.
Michael’s eyes snapped open and he let out a scream that echoed through the empty corridors. His body convulsed in agony while Marie and Daniel tried to hold him down. “Michael, it’s Marie. I’m here with Daniel. We’ve come to get you out of here.”
Michael, however, didn’t seem to recognise her, or even acknowledge her existence. His eyes flashed a phosphorescent green and hair began to flow from his pores like a writhing tide of serpents. Bones popped and crunched, and razor sharp fangs burst through his mouth in a spray of blood-flecked foam.
Marie’s heart raced. She’d known that there was a risk the adrenaline would trigger Michael’s transformation, but in his drug-addled condition, there was a good chance he would lash out at anything nearby. His wolf would react on instinct, fighting off the perceived threat. It would tear apart anything it saw, and that included her and Daniel.
“Michael, please, it’s me. You need to stop. You need to change back.”
Bones twisted, shattered and reformed. Michael’s face elongated into a snarling muzzle. The transformation would be complete in a matter of seconds. She looked at Daniel and saw her own terror mirrored on his face.
Then, just as Michael’s transformation completed, an alarm began to sound, echoing through the empty corridors outside.
25th December 2008. Parklands Close, South Molton, Devon. 00:07
Sophie lay on her bed and watched the glowing digits of her alarm clock count the passing of another minute. Her parents were downstairs, arguing again. They’d been doing this for days, now. Her mother’s mood swung from tearful to incandescent rage and back again more times than Sophie had been able to count. Her father had weathered the storm, accepting his wife’s fury with a resigned look on his face, doing his level best not to make things worse, with varying degrees of success. Sophie had no idea what was going on. It was Christmas, and she thought that everyone was supposed to be happy at Christmas. She just hoped that in the morning, her mother’s sadness would go away. Perhaps the present that Sophie had made for her would cheer her up. She’d worked very hard on it, after all.
The clock’s display clicked over once more, just as her mother stomped upstairs and slammed the bedroom door closed behind her. A few moments later, her father’s careful footsteps followed. He paused on the landing and opened Sophie’s bedroom door to check on her. Sophie closed her eyes and pretended to be asleep. She was glad that her parents were finally going to bed. Santa wouldn’t leave any presents with them arguing like that downstairs. He’d come down the chimney to face one of her mother’s moods and wouldn’t know what to do with himself. That would just be awkward for everyone. Hopefully her father remembered to put the mince pie and milk out for him before he came to bed. The last thing Sophie wanted was for Santa to think that they weren’t grateful. He might not come next year if they didn’t put his treats out.
The thought nagged at her. Her father always made sure that Santa’s mince pie was out before she went to bed, but tonight he’d been preoccupied. There was a chance he’d forgotten, and the consequences of that were too terrible to contemplate. She’d have to make sure.
Sophie slipped out of bed and moved silently towards her open bedroom door, taking extra care to avoid the creaking floorboard beside her dressing table. She strained her ears, allowing her other self to come up a little to improve her hearing. Her parents were talking in their bedroom.
“William, it’s not safe here anymore.” Her mother’s voice. Strained. On the verge of more tears. “If they work out that Dmitri and Kasha were here before they went to the airport…”
“Sonja, there’s nothing we can do. There’s no way out of the country, at least, not yet. Krysztof said that we should carry on as normal and not draw attention to ourselves.”
Her mother snorted at this. “Normal? How can anything ever be normal again? My sister and her entire family are dead. Murdered! And you expect me to carry on as if nothing has happened? And worse, take orders from that fool, Krysztof?”
Her father’s voice took on a hard edge. One that Sophie rarely heard him use, especially not to her mother. “You need to pull yourself together. For Sophie’s sake, and mine, if not for your own. We’ll mourn them later, once Krysztof and Lukas come up with a plan to get us to safety. In the meantime, we’re going to act like nothing is wrong. Tomorrow, you and I are going to smile and give Sophie a nice Christmas day. We’ll deal with everything else after that.”
Sophie felt confused. Her parents were talking as if something had happened to Uncle Dmitri and Auntie Kasha, but that was just silly. She’d only seen them a few days before, and they’d gone on holiday. They must have been talking about someone else, she decided. Perhaps her mother had another sister she’d never met.
Sophie pushed the worrying thoughts aside and concentrated on the task at hand. She’d never be able to sleep until she was certain that Santa’s mince pie was in its usual place on the coffee table. With exaggerated care, she crept out onto the landing and made her way downstairs, placing one foot slowly onto each step before shifting her weight to it, in order to avoid any tell-tale creaks. Her mother could hear a mouse fart halfway along the street, so getting past her unnoticed was no easy task. Fortunately, it was something that she’d spent her entire life practicing, and could be as silent as a shadow when the need arose.
She reached the bottom of the
stairs and stood on the soft, pale carpet of the hallway. The door to the living room was closed. She’d not considered that. The handle on that door always gave off a distinctive little squeak that would bring her mother downstairs in a second. That meant she’d need to go through the kitchen and dining room to get to the lounge, but that presented a different challenge. A set of wind chimes hung just behind the kitchen door. The slightest breeze would set them off. She’d have to be extra careful.
Sophie pulled open the kitchen door, millimetres at a time so as not to create a draft, and slipped through the gap onto the cold slate-tiled floor. Her parents were still talking upstairs, their voices muffled, but understandable to her sharpened hearing. She ignored them. They were talking about boring, grown-up things, and she needed to concentrate on what she was doing or risk getting caught. With the mood her mother was in, that really wasn’t an option. The last thing she wanted was to spend Christmas day confined to her room in disgrace.
There was just one more obstacle to overcome. The sliding door at the far end of the kitchen. From there, she’d have a clear view into the living room. Fortunately, the door was partially opened. She’d never have been able to open it without making noise, even by the small amount needed to see into the next room. She allowed herself a small smile of victory as she crept across the kitchen and peered through the doorway.
The lights on the Christmas tree twinkled, casting multi-coloured shadows that danced across the room. An empty glass, and a saucer covered in mince pie crumbs sat on the coffee table, and on her father’s armchair in the corner of the room sat a large pile of presents. Her father hadn’t forgotten, and best of all, Santa had already been!
The crunch of a footfall on the gravel path outside. A bright light shining through the kitchen window. Sophie’s heart fluttered and she brought her hands up to her mouth, barely able to contain her excitement.
“Santa?”
She hardly had time to scream as the kitchen window exploded, and shards of glass tore her face into tattered, bloody ribbons.
25th December 2008. Underhill Military Base, Sublevel Four. 00:10
Marie threw herself away from Michael’s thrashing form. Klaxons echoed along the corridors and red strobe lights flashed against the concrete walls. She could see clouds of steam billowing from Daniel as he struggled to restrain the disoriented beast that had been her brother. He was on the verge of transforming himself, his wolf as close to the surface as he could get it. Grey fur burst from Daniel’s pores then retreated back into his skin. Even so, Michael would be free in another second, and in the distance she could hear the sounds of boots against the concrete, getting closer. “Daniel. You can’t hold him. Move your fucking arse.”
Daniel threw Michael across the room with every ounce of strength he had left and dived for the open door. The werewolf scrambled to its feet and followed close behind, snarling in rage. They tried to slam the door closed, just as Michael crashed into it. The door pushed open a fraction, but not enough to allow him to escape. They both put their weight behind it, but even their combined strength wouldn’t hold against the frenzied assault for long. Marie looked up and saw four armed men in Special Forces uniforms turn the corner, weapons raised as they hurried towards them.
Marie looked at Daniel and nodded. She turned to the armed men and yelled. “It’s okay. We’ve got it.” Then they pulled the door open and let Michael out of his cell.
Gunfire echoed through the narrow confines of the corridor. Bullets peppered the reinforced steel door, leaving visible dents on the side that Marie and Daniel cowered behind, and the air was filled with the stench of gunpowder. Michael yelped in pain, then roared in rage. After a moment, the weapons stopped firing and the screaming started. Before long, that stopped as well, and the only sounds Marie could hear were the shriek of the klaxons and a wet ripping noise.
Daniel began to remove his uniform, obviously intent on transforming so that he could meet Michael on even terms. Marie put her hand on his arm and shook her head. She’d not come this far to let Daniel and Michael kill each other. She took a deep breath and stepped out from behind the door to face her brother.
The Special Forces team hadn’t stood a chance. Two of them had been torn in half, their bodies ripped open and spread across the walls and floor. One of them tried to crawl towards them, blood bubbling from his mouth and one eye hanging from the shredded ruins of his face, his guts unravelling behind what remained of his torso. The last one’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, mouthing a silent scream as Michael buried his snout into the exposed chest cavity and chewed on the succulent organs within.
Marie put her hands out and took a step forward. Michael lifted his blood-drenched muzzle and snarled. Her legs betrayed her, and every instinct screamed to get back behind the comparative safety of the ruined steel door. She pushed the fear down and took another unsteady step forward. “Michael, it’s me. Marie. Come on, big brother. Stop acting like a twat.”
There was no flicker of recognition in Michael’s eyes. His lips curled back to reveal rows of bloodstained fangs, and he let out a thick, guttural growl. Marie took another hesitant step towards him. “Michael. Snap the fuck out of it.” A note of anger and impatience had crept into her voice. It would not be long before more armed men arrived to contain the situation. Time really was not on their side. Michael crouched down and sank his teeth into the arm of the half-dead soldier, then began dragging the corpse away from her. She recognised the signs. The body language. This was all wolf. The behaviour of a wild animal protecting its meal from an intruder. She’d woken up the beast, but not the man. She took another step, very much aware of the growl’s ferocity increasing as she invaded the beast’s personal space.
Her voice took on a hard tone as she pushed the fear out of her mind. “Michael. I’m not going to ask you again. Stop pissing about and let’s get out of here.” She stared into the huge creature’s baleful yellow eyes, searching for any sign that it knew who she was. The werewolf’s muscles tightened. Its posture shifted into a crouch. Marie knew what was coming next. With a snarl of pure rage, the beast leaped into the air, jaws agape and black talons slashing out.
As Michael attacked, Marie dropped to the ground, and when the monster sailed over her head, she brought her foot up sharply, kicking it in the testicles. The werewolf’s snarl of rage turned into a yelp of pain before it collided with the reinforced steel door of the cell with a sickening crunch.
Marie scrambled to her feet, slipping in the blood of the dead soldiers, and breathed a sigh of relief as she saw Michael’s body twist and contort back into his human form. He looked up at her with glassy eyes and tried to get to his feet.
“What? Marie I… oh, God. Did you kick me in the balls?”
Despite the circumstances, she smiled at him. “You had it coming.” She reached down and poured the remains of a dead soldier out of the bloody scraps of his uniform, then threw the dripping rags at her brother. “Put these on and let’s get the hell out of here.”
Michael’s nose crinkled. “Haven’t you got anything a bit less… blood-soaked?”
“Yes, but these are better. Stop fucking moaning and get dressed. We’ve got to get out of here before anyone else shows up.”
Daniel helped Michael into the tattered uniform, and Marie slipped under her brother’s arm to support him. He went to shake her off. “It’s okay. I can manage.”
She shook her head. “Seriously, you wouldn’t last five bloody minutes in the field. Let us support you. Act fucked up.”
Michael’s eyes widened as the details of his sister’s plan fell into place. Once Marie and Daniel had positioned themselves under each arm, he slumped, allowing them to support his weight. They’d not made it far along the corridor before another fire-team emerged from the stairwell.
Marie looked over her shoulder, then turned to the squad of armed men. “It’s loose! Somewhere down near medical. The rest of them are… oh, God… we tried to… It ATE
them!”
The squad leader nodded. “It’s okay. Get upstairs and find help.” He motioned to his team and they spread out into the corridor in a standard formation, weapons raised. He made a series of hand movements, and they moved away into the depths of the base.
Marie hit the call button for the elevator, and once the doors slid open, ushered Michael and Daniel inside before pressing the button for the surface level. She glanced over to Daniel, who arched his eyebrow.
“What’s the matter?” she said in an innocent voice. “I told you it’d be a piece of piss.”
The lift arrived at the surface level and juddered to a halt. After a moment, the doors slid open to reveal a squad of soldiers standing before them with weapons raised. A grey-haired man with a bristling moustache smiled and stepped forward. “Miss Williams, I presume? So glad you could join us. I’m Colonel Richards, commanding officer of this facility. Please, come with me.”
Chapter 6
25th December 2008. Parklands Close, South Molton, Devon. 00:10
Paul Patterson tightened his grip on the submachine gun and tried to bring his racing heartbeat under control. His hands were slick with sweat, despite his fingerless cotton gloves, and the polymer handgrip felt as if it could slip from his grasp at any moment. The silhouetted outlines of the other members of his team were just visible in the darkness. They flowed through the mist-shrouded trees without making a sound, their movements slow yet fluid. Not even the crack of a breaking branch underfoot betrayed their passage through the small patch of woodland. Paul’s own movements, while measured and stealthy, felt lumbering and clumsy by comparison. Not for the first time, he wondered what the hell he was doing here. The rest of the squad were elite Special Forces troops, whereas he was just a police firearms officer. To say that he felt out of his depth was an understatement.
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