Howling Shadows

by C. N. Owens

  “Trent!” I hear after another volley of gunfire.

  “I’m all right!” I say, still on the floor among the charred rubble.

  He runs in and stands over me, his bald head dripping with sweat, radio in his left hand. “I’ll call for rescue.”

  “Forget it,” I say and peel myself up from the floor and look around. “We need to stop this for good. Give me a ride.”

  “You’re out of your mind.”

  I stumble to my feet and walk to the car. “No, I’m not. We still have six hours or more of daylight. I need you to get me to Dante’s before more of this shit happens in your town.” I rip my shirt off and grab a couple more shirts from my bag, and a roll of duct tape. That should do it. “Hold these gashes together.”

  “Trent, you know this kind of bandage won’t last.”

  I look up at him from where I was concentrating on stopping the bleeding. “I know, I have a few more shirts. And I won’t have to use as many if you hurry up and help me.”

  Nate sighs, studying the three jagged tears on my chest that travel diagonally from my right pec to my stomach. “It’s gonna hurt.”

  I laugh and set the roll of tape down after preparing three strips for the bandage. “Lets you know you’re alive.”

  Nate hisses and snatches the shirt out of my hand. “This better be a clean shirt,” he says while wadding it up to the right size. He looks at me, and when I nod, presses it to my chest and squeezes all three wounds together.

  I groan, instantly feeling lightheaded. The gashes aren’t too deep, but the raw skin rubbing together is not a great feeling. I take the three strips of tape and put them across the injury, holding the shirt in place, and hopefully keeping the skin together, too. I turn and control a fall into the passenger’s seat, dragging my legs in afterward. Gasping for air, I reach into my bag and pour a few pain pills into my mouth. Luckily, the docs gave me Dilaudid for my shoulder. At least I’ll be good and buzzed until I can get this fixed up properly.

  Nate climbs in and starts the engine. “You okay?”

  “No,” I reply, still questioning everything… feeling alone and abandoned; all the people close to me are now gone. “Did you see where she went?”

  “Hell no. I hid behind the car.” He takes a breath. “She?”

  “No shame,” I say, grunting when I adjust my shoulder. “And yes, she. Remember that waifish albino from the hospital? That’s her.”

  “No way. How do you know?”

  I shake my head. Time to let a little out. “I’m sorry, man, but I haven’t been totally honest with you. I’ve dealt with werewolves before, alphas in particular. I’ve found that I’m pretty good at keeping them stable, helping them control the beast.”

  “Where did you learn that?”

  “By accident,” I stammer, trying to think of a good answer.

  “And why would you want to keep these monsters alive?”

  “Enough talk. Get me to Dante’s. We’re burning daylight, and I need them to be asleep.”

  “No, not with you all busted up like this. What do you expect to do?”

  “They don’t know I’m coming, and I’ll drop the werewolves the moment I see them, before they have a chance to turn.”

  He flips on the AC, still shaking his head. “You want to kill Leila… just like that?”

  “Would you like to take her into custody?”

  Nate sighs and drops the car into gear. “I’m going to incur a lot of paperwork for this.”

  Chapter 15

  Leila

  I can’t even kill myself.

  I lie naked on the bank of a river. A tall bridge stands only a moment’s walk from where I attacked Trent. The moment I came out of my trancelike nightmare, I ran as fast as I could to the highest point of that bridge and leaped headfirst. On the way down, the beast returned.

  Whether I blacked out or not, I can’t be sure, but the overwhelming feeling was rage. The trance, the haze, the gulf between my physical and mental being came back together, colliding with the force of an atomic blast when I hit the cold water. Awake now, but still a passenger in this body, I felt four long powerful legs propel me to the shore, the webbing between my toes filling with water as I paddled, only to disappear by the time I reached the riverbank.

  I lie here on the bank shivering, my cheek sticking in the porridge-like mud. With half my body still submerged in the freezing water, I pray for hypothermia, but it never comes. I’ve lain here for what feels like hours. Idle thoughts enter my mind: who is Cassie, why did she tell me to come here, and how does she know Trent? The moment the nurse got me back to my room, they dosed me with something to help with the drug withdrawals, the nagging pain, and the embarrassing stomach problems. Whatever they shot into my IV, it knocked me out, but before drifting off, the vampire from Trent’s room—Cassie—materialized over me. It felt like a dream, and the more I think about it, maybe I was dreaming. Either way, she told me that she knows what I am and she wants to take care of me, that I would be happy and want for nothing, but my situation is dangerous. She said she would get me out of the hospital and hide me but didn’t feel safe doing so until after sunrise. So, in the meantime, she coached me, told me to remember the directions to her home if trouble came to the hospital, and that’s what I did.

  I shake my head, irritated by the blinding sun and even more so because nothing seems to make sense. I feel strange, renewed, light on my feet, but my mind is still full of interference, like static on a radio. I hear rambling voices everywhere, none speaking a coherent sentence, only confusing me more. Over them all, I hear the words: Plague Bringer.

  My feet sink inches into the mud, and I wonder why I’m not freaked out by the sensation, but it doesn’t matter, nothing does. Unknown objects in the putrid silt scratch the soles of my feet, but it’s insignificant. It’s obvious I have little to fear anymore. My teeth and nails have grown back; my wounds are healed. Whatever happened the first time must have only been halfway—that’s why it hurt me. Now, it feels like nothing happened at all.

  I flip my dirty hair over my shoulder and try to wring out some of the water, wobbling and almost falling over in my drunken effort to make my way up the steep grassy bank.

  “I’ll travel only by night,” I whisper aloud while continuing naked toward the smoldering ruins of Cassie’s old house. Travel only by night… I’ll hitchhike… hide in the beds of trucks… I’ve got to fix what I did. This pep talk repeats in my mind over and over, hoping for a little courage, but it’s no use. I’m alone, lost at sea. The thought of finding a hospital crosses my mind but leaves just as quick. I’d rather be cold and starving than comfortable and imprisoned again.

  The house is a complete wreck, save for a small room at the back where a blackened washer and dryer sit. Their plastic windows are melted and warped but still transparent. There were only a few things in the dryer, but it was still a good idea to look. I find a small pair of green shorts and a white tank top, and I rush to put them on, feeling a little better after covering up. Wasting no time, I move on to the barn. Earlier, I saw cars in there that might still be usable.

  The barn is halfway caved in on one side, leaving most of the cars charred and unusable, at least, the ones I can see. I make my way inside, and while trying to avoid smoldering debris, I step on something—a key fob. A car’s lights flash in the smoky darkness. I press the button over and over, walking toward the lights, and discover my means of escape: a light-blue mustang, nestled in the back corner. It’s covered in ash, and the bumper and taillight are partially melted, but it looks like freedom to me.

  I climb into the car and start it after adjusting the seat. Stopping just outside the barn, I turn on the heat and grip the wheel, trying to gain the nerve to drive this car. I enter an address into the GPS: 4133 Old Eagle Lake Rd., Eagle Lake, Florida. The car has a full tank of gas. That should get me part of the way. I nod in silent determination. It’s a start.

  Chapter
16

  Trent

  We arrive at the club in twenty-five minutes or so. It was just a quick jump onto 664, would’ve been quicker if it weren’t for traffic. Dante’s old building, a giant square box with gray faded walls, is a bleak contrast to the clear sunny day. Nate stops on the side at my instruction, and immediately, I jump out and grab my bag. As banged up as I am, today I have to improvise… no sword this time. Nate hops out as well and mills around in his trunk, but I don’t pay much attention until I hear Velcro, and the all too familiar sounds of a shotgun. The trunk shuts, and he appears at my side with a tactical shotgun and bulletproof vest. A balaclava covers everything but his eyes.

  “You want in?” I ask, already knowing the obvious answer.

  “I’m with you, brother. I’d feel like a real asshole if I let you go in alone.”

  “Yeah, well, good thing you’re wearing that mask. Vampires never forget a face. And don’t let them bite you… it’ll put your whole family at risk.”

  Nate chambers a shell. “They aren’t getting that close.”

  “Give this a try when we’re putting down the sleepers.” I hand him my double-edged sword.

  Nate throws the sling over his shoulder, but a smile leaves thick ridges in the black fabric of his mask. “Isn’t this your trademark?”

  I hand him a crowbar. “Yeah, but I can’t use it right now. Switching to the backup for this.” I pull out two flat black tomahawks—a couple of my favorites. They’re pretty much indestructible and stay razor sharp, even after tons of abuse. I unsheathe them and slide them carelessly under my belt.

  Nate chuckles and rests his weapon on his shoulder. “That a ten millimeter?”

  I nod. Being a cop, he immediately noticed my sidearm—a Glock 20. I usually go for something I can shoot faster, .40 cal is my favorite, but today is special. “Yes, sir. You saw how big that guy was. I plan on shooting big holes in him.”

  “That’ll do it,” Nate says, “and if you need any help, I’ve got rifled slugs in this shotty.”

  “Well, in that case, you take point.” I laugh and walk for the door.

  “You don’t wear armor? Or a mask?”

  I shake my head, watching Nate jam the claw of the crowbar into the door and pull. “They all know me already; it makes no difference.”

  “Understood,” Nate says, just as the door pops open. “Let’s make sure they don’t get a good look at either of us today.”

  “Works for me,” I say, and we dash through the door.

  The building is silent, but my mind is a crowded auditorium of voices, all of them worries. Where the hell Cassie went, if she and Andrea are okay, and what the hell has happened to bring werewolves out of hiding so suddenly. The more I think on it, Cassie was right. The world is changing again. We have a new foe, and that foe has claws and teeth and wants the world to die. I can only make assumptions about how the PAU is going to react to this, and I’m sure it’s going to be slow and conservative, until these beasts start causing a lot of trouble.

  Using fragments of memories that are not originally mine, I navigate the dark corridors of Dante’s underground fortress, feeling odd as I remember the way to Dante’s room. It feels so real; I could’ve been here a million times. We arrive at the bright-red double doors and enter, finding the room empty.

  The side rooms that line the narrow hallways are empty; the dance floor and stage are also clean and empty. I check my watch; it’s 2:00 p.m. We quicken our pace through the building, knowing that preparations for this evening’s show will begin soon.

  Approaching another set of double doors, Nate pries them open with the crowbar. The doors open to a wide staircase, leading down to a dark cavernous hallway.

  This hallway is a massive concrete box, lined with enormous stone columns. A row of fluorescent lights illuminates the center of the room. We stay in the shadows to the left of the light.

  Still hours from sunset, and already, I can feel I’m getting close. On the other side of the room, a set of heavy wood doors is locked. Nate pries them open, and on the opposite side of the room I find another heavy steel door, locked and barred from the inside… a good sign. A door charge on the bolt and right in the center does the trick. The explosion bends the door in half, popping it off its hinges and knocking the bar loose.

  We dash into the room, and I’m nervous about making so much noise, but it doesn’t matter—I’ve reached pay dirt. Rows of caskets, at least twenty, line the wall on the other side of the small rectangular room, with enough room between them for their occupants to get in and out.

  I walk deeper into the room and begin kicking caskets over, but something’s not right. This feels too easy.

  We drag them out into the center of the room and line them up, all silent corpses, ready for execution. Soon I realize that they all appear young. Frustrated, I roll my eyes. My targets must be in another room.

  We dispatch them all, feeling good as my tomahawk sings through the air. While kicking the heads into a small cluster on the floor, I notice another door on the other side of the room. This one is unlocked.

  With Nate covering my rear, we enter the room. It’s dark, the light is dim and reddish, but I immediately find what I’m looking for when my eyes adjust. Against the wall to my right lies a gunmetal-gray casket; beside it, I can see what looks like a structure of rusted I-beams. Attached to it, a leathery husk of a body hangs lifeless. I trot toward it, pulling a tomahawk in preparation, but slide onto my ass when I discover who it is.

  Flesh like dried rotten leather, breasts withered and flat. Once wavy brown hair is now straw-like, coming out in clumps. Large hooks, flesh hooks, pierce her extremities. On her neck and wrists are large black manacles, and through weep holes, blood drips onto the floor, drying into a large brown stain. I gasp when the corpse-like body lifts her head and looks at me with cloudy, whitened eyes. She tries to mouth a word but only a weak hiss comes out.

  “Dear God, Cassie!” Wounds roaring with pain, I force myself back to my feet so I can set her free.

  She winces, letting out another hiss of pain as I pull the pins on the manacles, removing them from her neck and wrists, then stand up, and sever the leather straps with my knife.

  She collapses to the floor like a limp rag doll and barely moves. Her fingers claw the hard cement, making tiny scratches in the drying pool of her own blood. I drop back to my knees and roll her over, cradling her in my arms.

  “We have to get out of here. Can you try to walk?” I ask, but her only reply is a vacant stare.

  I hear a click and then a loud crash on the other side of the room. Above me, a motion sensor peers down at us from the ceiling. It’s at that moment I realize that unlocked doors remain that way for a reason.

  “Trent, we need to go,” Nate says, aiming in the direction of gurgling sounds, accompanied by the sounds of something dragging on the dusty stone floor. On the far wall, a door has collapsed and pouring out of it are mangled, decomposing ghouls. For a moment, I clutch Cassie’s limp body with my good arm, wishing for her to wake up and help, but I dismiss that crazy thought.

  “I’ll be right back,” I whisper, then place her on the floor and grab for one of my tomahawks.

  With a flash, I slash the air from a seated position and jam the spike into the temple of the closest one. I stand, draw my pistol and fire into the head of another, and Nate follows suit, drawing my blade and shredding two that are coming for him. He pulls his shotgun and fires three times. The sound is deafening, and it’s almost effective, too. Multiple ghouls explode from the shockwave alone, but they don’t need much to remain mobile. Those that can’t stand collapse and drag themselves toward us. He begins going for the head, but it’s not enough, and we soon grow overwhelmed.

  I wrench my hatchet out of a ghoul’s head and wave for Nate to follow. We run out the door and push it shut, leaning on it to keep it that way.

  “I don’t want to know,” Nate says as he slides to the fl
oor next to me.

  “It’s probably best that way,” I say, reloading and holstering my pistol.

  “I have buckshot… should work a little better.”

  Following our scent, the ghouls approach the other side and begin scratching at the metal door in a vain effort to get through.

  “I like how you think,” I say and put my head against the door, trying to regain my composure. It has been years since I last saw ghouls. What a terrible way to go, I think, trying to control my panic at the very thought.

  I take a breath and coax myself back to my feet. Just then I hear a clicking noise… We’re still not alone. On the other side of the room, I see a shadow and terrible yellow eyes. It stops to sniff the row of decapitated vampires, taking in deep, heaving breaths.

  A ghoul groans, and the beast looks in our direction. Its fierce yellow eyes focus on me and it bares its teeth.

  It’s definitely Bento. Leila has whitish, translucent skin, but this beast is black with coarse fur covering its body. He snarls and runs for us, and we dive back into the previous room. Without a second to spare, I draw my gun and recklessly fire on the ghouls within, lacking the luxury of caution as I struggle to get back to Cassie. Thinking fast, I pull open a drain cover in the floor and jump in, dragging Cassie with me by the foot. Nate joins seconds later.

  Luckily, the pipe is large enough for us to squeeze into as Bento rips through the remaining ghouls before turning on us again. He reaches into the drain with a massive, coarse-haired paw, but it can’t reach far, and he can’t fit his body through the opening. Nate is too big for the pipe, but he stands in the collector and dumps shell after shell into Bento until he leaves, having had enough.

  “Come and get it!” Nate says, and throws his shotgun out of the opening and climbs out. “Die, bitch!” I hear between more shotgun blasts. Seconds later, Nate’s giant hand reaches into the opening and he drags us both out.