Thoughts of Taylor vanished as he came upon his first victims, a couple. The man looked to be in his early twenties, with a brown curly mop of a hair which sprouted from his head like some kind of mushroom. What a tosser. The man had a doe-eyed expression as he turned and ran past his girlfriend, a black girl oddly asymmetrical with a narrow upper body and wide hips. She gave a look of surprise, mixed with outrage as her boyfriend moved past her, leaving her to face this nightmare alone.
That look vanished quickly.
Blain swerved to move past her as well, but as he did, he slammed his hand into her throat. An audible snap. Her head lolled listlessly. He continued the motion with his hand, lifting her as he passed. He came to an abrupt halt and with all his might, flung her at her fleeing boyfriend. The human missile struck him in the back with such force, it shattered his spine and they both collapsed into a heap.
Swinging around, Blain surveyed the scene around him. People were fleeing from him in all directions. A boy, about ten, huddled down against a car. He cried, his hands to either side of his face, his fingers, splayed on top of his head as if, by hunkering down, he could weather the storm that was Blain.
He was wrong.
Striding to the boy, he reached down and wrapped his clawed hand over the boy’s head, lifting him with ease. The boy wailed now, clawing at Blain’s hand. Blain almost laughed at the idea this boy thought he could hurt him. He heard a scream.
“NOOOOOOO!!!! Please!? Don’t hurt him!”
He saw her now. A woman, presumably the boy’s mother. He had her look. Blain sneered. Mothers were all weak. If this one wanted to save her son, she should be throwing herself at him. As Blain rounded on her, he caught sight of something which truly brought a smile to his tusked mouth. Running towards him from beyond the woman was a monstrous Bear. Now, the true test begins.
As the Bear started to pass the woman, Blain raised the struggling boy up and out before him. The mother and the Bear could only watch in horror as Blain collapsed his fist, crushing the boy’s skull with an audible crunch.
The woman screamed again, the sound ripe with the grief and agony of loss.
The Bear roared!
Blain tossed the boy’s lifeless body aside and readied himself to meet the Bear.
Kat sprinted across the road littered with debris, bodies and overturned cars. The Croc had already reached the crowd. With massive claws, he ripped through bodies like a scythe through wheat. Blood sprayed everywhere. The heavy scent of copper and emptied bowels permeated the air, especially to Kat’s keen senses.
As she watched, he drove his claws deep into the back of woman who had been running heedless of where she went. Her panic had been so overwhelming, she ran within striking distance of the Croc, who, with clawed hand buried up to his thick wrist in her back, swung his hand back so quickly, it tore through her body and exited out her side. Her left lung, stomach, intestines were sliced clean through. She died before she hit the ground.
Kat angled herself so she could cut him off before he could get to his next victim. Urging her body to give her a boost of speed, she felt it respond and the ground became a blur beneath her feet.
Leaping she stepped lightly onto an overturned car and used it to launch herself the rest of the distance. Flying out in a high arc, she had timed herself perfectly. Straightening her body, she tightened her muscles to increase the strength of the impact when she collided with the Croc.
The beast loomed over another woman. She had collapsed on the ground, feet desperately trying to gain purchase as she backpedaled away from him. One of her hands, outthrust, held a taser, its blue lightning sparking across the front of the pathetically small weapon.
Kat’s feet caught him right below his left armpit. The impact jarred her bones, but sent the Croc flying away from the poor woman. Using the forceful stop in her momentum and the momentary solidness against her feet to push backwards, she threw her legs over to do a back flip, landing on her feet, hands pressed to the street, tiger tail whipping this way and that.
The Croc, unsuspecting of the aerial attack was knocked off his feet and momentarily airborne; his bulk, however brought him down quickly and he skidded and rolled to a stop a short distance away.
This was the first time Kat got a decent look at the Croc as it righted itself. It topped her by a few feet. Not to mention it outweighed her by at least a hundred pounds. Dark scales covered the bulk of its body. Bumpy and ridged it had the look of the pebbled floor of a dark river. Its underbelly, checkerboarded in appearance, like wall tile in an old home, was olive green and smooth.
The most frightening aspect was its maw. It was slightly agape, with rows of horribly sharp teeth, some exceeding four inches in length. Dark beady eyes stared at her across the distance with malevolence.
“Oh, Sweetie,” the Croc began in an Australian accent. “Your flesh is going to taste sweet. I just know it.”
Kat rolled her eyes. “Why you assholes think you need to say stupid shit like this before fighting I will never understand.” She moved into a fighting stance, a mixture of the Filipino fighting style Kali and Muay Thai –knees slightly bent, arms out and loose. “I’m not here to chitchat. I’m here to put an end to you. So, bring it.”
She waited for him to come at her. She didn’t have to wait long. Like a striking snake, he crossed the distance to her. Leaning forward as he came, he thrust his long snout out before him. He was quicker than she had expected. She was faster. Squatting slightly, she launched herself upward, knee up and bent before her to collide with the underside of his jaw. His mouth, which had been opened slightly, slammed shut with an audible clack and his head, thrown back.
Kat didn’t wait for him to recover. The moment she landed she moved. Zig zagging at her hip, she slashed first with her right claws, then with her left, before bouncing back to the right. Scales separated under her sharp talons and she felt the muscles which lined his underside, part as well.
He roared and swiped for her, but she had already moved past his reach and was behind him. With another leap, she was on his back and raking at his eyes. She could feel his right eye pop and sink in as one of her claws punctured it. The Croc thrashed about. His tail swung around and slammed into a parked car, smashing in the door and shattering the window.
Bucking, he desperately tried to dislodge her, but she held on. As she attempted to blind his left eye, he managed to reach around and grab her wrist in his meaty claw and with all his might, he threw her. Her back claws raked along the Croc’s back as they dragged across it when she was thrown.
They say cats always land on their feet. That is assuming, Kat realized, if you didn’t hit anything before you landed. She struck the electrical pole hard across her upper back and felt her left shoulder blade shatter. The damage would have been worse if the pole had withstood the impact of her body, but it also broke, slipped apart and dropped down before tipping over. Electrical lines landed across several car tops, sparking and popping loudly before falling silent.
Kat landed on her side with a thud and a groan. The shoulder blade mended itself, and she willed it along quicker, doing the same with several lacerations she had received.
Not waiting for everything to finish healing, she bounded to her feet in time to get knocked sideways by a viscous swipe from the Croc, who looked no worse for wear from her earlier attacks. His right eye had already recovered, and his abdomen, was now unscathed.
Again, Kat was airborne. And again, not by her choice. This is not going well. This time, however, she controlled her descent a little better and twisted herself to land on her feet. Turning around she saw the Croc had followed her flight and was right on top of her. Another swipe, but this one she batted away as she jumped slightly back. The other claw came in, and again was batted away.
Memories of fighting Jeff, her old martial arts teacher, entered her thoughts. He was bigger and stronger than her, just like this Croc. That’s where the similarities ended though. This wasn’t a match in the g
ym at her home. This was a fight to the death, and she couldn’t play possum and do a hip throw to subdue him. She needed to do as much damage as she could to the point where she could hurt him quicker than he could heal.
She couldn’t do this alone. The realization of this shook her. None of them could win these battles alone. If it remained one on one, like now, the best they could hope for was a stalemate.
A slash and a bite, but she kept out of his reach, knocking aside each attack as they came, giving her time to think. She needed help, but she knew the others would be equally matched in their fights.
“Sylvanis! I need help here!” she shouted, hoping the Druid could spare a moment from her confrontation with Kestrel to give her a tactical advantage.
“Busy!” Was the only response she got.
The corners of the Croc’s mouth peeled back in a frightening smile.
“It looks like the only one who is going to be ended here, is you.”
“Shut the fuck up.” Kat attacked.
Moving in quickly, she lacerated his incoming arm. Tendons and ligaments were sliced clean through, causing it to flop down uselessly. At least for the moment. Spinning around inside his reach, she slammed an elbow into what would typically be his sternum. What it would be on this creature, she had no idea.
He grunted though. Good sign. Spinning back around she slammed the heal of her palm into his throat, crushing his esophagus. The enormous beast staggered back from her, but she did not relent. Following right after him, she straightened her fingers into a spear hand attack and jabbed into the soft underpart of his left arm. Her claws acted like the sharpened head of a knife and cut in deep. She could feel the ball of muscles, the rotator cuff which encompassed the shoulder joint tear away from her hand as they rolled up after being severed from their connected bone.
The Croc howled. She repeated the process, jabbing deeper this time till her fingers struck the joint with enough force to pop it out. Methodically she stabbed and angled her hand to quickly work at severing the entire arm.
As concentrated as she was on this goal, she hadn’t realized he had healed from the other damage she had done. At least until she saw peripherally his snout arc down, jaws open to crunch down between her shoulder and neck. Dagger-like teeth pierced her skin and she sucked in a breath. The position of his mouth made further attacks on his armpit impossible and she knew it would heal again. She had missed her chance to incapacitate him, if only momentarily.
Now, she realized with dread as he reared back his head, lifting her up off her feet, it was his turn.
Sylvanis was indeed busy. As much as she wished to help Kat with that monster, the Werecroc, she was needed to fend off attacks from Kestrel. Standing as she was, Kestrel still managed to appear regal in her bearing, while hiding behind the Were-Rat.
“Goid Blàths!” Kestrel sang out. her voice like the sound of a church bell, cold, crisp and melodic. Immediately, the air around them had the heat drained from it. Sylvanis’ breath ghosted in front of her, the warm moisture in her lungs haunted her as it fled. Her inhalation brought pain as the icy cold air created by Kestrel’s spell filled her chest.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Ben fired his gun beside her, and she could see bullets sending chips of stone into the air as the shots went wide. Ben, shivering from the tundra-like temperature couldn’t hold his gun still.
Through chattering teeth, Sylvanis moved to counter Kestrel’s spell. “Thoir Blàths.” Heat returned and Sylvanis fired back.
“Uisge Tuit.” Sylvanis’ spell pulled moisture out of the air and it coalesced above and behind Kestrel. The Druidess frantically scanned about, searching for where the attack would come from. When the huge ball of water fell, it struck the ground behind Kestrel and the Wererat. A surge of water, an impromptu wave, slammed into the back of Kestrel, and the Wererat, knocking them from their feet, causing them to tumble about in a twisted mass of brown fur and expensive silks.
“Shoot her!” Sylvanis yelled at Ben once again and the cop, now warm, his shivering ended, took aim again and fired. Blood sprayed as the bullet struck Kestrel in the thigh, rolling her over from the impact.
Click! Click! Ben scrambled to pull a spare clip from his pocket and reload his weapon, but it was already too late. The Rat was back up and hovering over Kestrel who had clamped both hands on a darkened stain on her dress, the color expanding out to mar the fine garment.
Sylvanis thought to end this, but Kestrel was quicker.
Crying out, her voice terse with pain, Kestrel cast her spell.
“TEINE TARBH-THONN!”
A massive story-high wave of fire began rolling toward her, Ben and the cops who had recovered from the initial attack. The heat felt like holding your hands mere inches from a hearth. It seared skin and caused smoke tendrils to rise from clothes, seconds from catching fire themselves. Oxygen sucked into the fire, leaving them all breathless and gave the wave urgency as it inflated as it barreled down on them.
Blacktop melted and coagulated, like chocolate syrup. Smoke billowed in great clouds, dark gray and aggressive. The fire. The smoke. Everything burning made it hard for Sylvanis to act, let alone think. She knew little moisture remained in the air, as her earlier spell had pulled as much as it could. She would not have the ability to attack this fire with water.
But perhaps.
“Deigh balla,” Sylvanis managed to croak out, her throat dry and sore from the heat. The wave, only a few feet away from them, hit a wall of ice, the color of iced coffee as it sprung up between them and it. Sylvanis had used the dust and debris from Kestrel’s earlier attack to lend structure to the wall.
The fire wave struck the wall and a high-pitched hiss filled the air; dark smoke from the fire was quickly overwhelmed by a mountain of white steam, making vision impossible. The cloud of steam struck them and Sylvanis could feel her protective spells flare up to protect her from the heat. The others weren’t as lucky. Ben screamed out next to her and collapsed into a heap.
Police officers, some of whom had yet to recover from the eruption writhed about the ground in pain, their skin reddened and blistered as the air boiled about them.
“Fionnar gaoth!” A wind blew out from Sylvanis. Whipping around, it gathered up the steam and pushed it away, cooling as it went. The damage was done though. Sylvanis quickly moved to Ben and examined him. Wherever his skin showed, pus-filled blisters rose like sheets of bubble wrap. Some had deflated, oozing with a yellowish-clear liquid mixing with the weeping from the rest of the skin.
“Craiceann càirich leighis.” As she took Ben’s head in her hands, she sent her magic into him. The sharp intakes of breaths he had been taking slowed and steadied. She saw the color of his skin return to normal, the blisters flattening and turning to loose skin above newly healed flesh. They would slough off in time, Sylvanis knew. Until then though, he would not be a handsome man.
The other officers needed her attention as well, but she had more pressing matters to deal with. Standing, she wheeled back to face Kestrel. Who was . . . gone?
Swiveling her head this way and that, Sylvanis quested for Kestrel, but she was nowhere to be seen. Neither was the Rat.
Shae led the way as she and Kestrel darted back through the hotel and made their way to the rear exit. Kestrel had done what she had been able to do to heal her wound, but she still hobbled lightly. Her left leg made a swinging movement with each step, as she was unable to bend the leg at the hip.
Kestrel muttered a steady stream of curses, or at least, Shae believed they were curses, since they were in a language she did not understand but came to recognize as the same language she used to cast spells.
Shae glanced behind Kestrel and saw through the enormous front windows, to see white clouds, obscuring everything, had replaced the wave of fire. Sylvanis had found a way to douse the fire, as Kestrel assumed she would when she had clawed her way to her feet. She yelled at Shae, her voice sounding distant beneath the roar of the flames, to get them out of there.
She dreaded what would happen next. When they reached the back exit, there would be police stationed there and she would be forced to deal with them. It is me or them. I will not be captured again! That didn’t mean she was looking forward to killing people. She didn’t have a choice now.
She put some distance between her and Kestrel, not wanting to step outside and have Kestrel gunned down by the waiting cops. She would have to remove the threat before Kestrel got there.
With a burst of speed, she slammed into the exit door at the back of the hotel and flew outside. Landing in a crouch, she quickly scanned the scene. Six or seven bodies lay strewn upon the ground, some with torn off limbs, blood creating significant pools under the ripped flesh. The scent of copper and fear lingered in the air.
This had just happened.
Movement from the around a stone wall caught her attention and Daniel stepped into view. He wasn’t in his Were form, but he clearly had been. Sounds from behind alerted her to Kestrel’s impending arrival. With a hiss of frustration, Shae leaped at Daniel.
Slamming into him hard, she knocked him flat and landed on top of him, her pink rat tail swishing back and forth behind her in agitation.
“I told you to leave, Daniel,” her voice a harsh whisper. She didn’t know how long she had before Kestrel arrived on the scene.
“I did. I left the hotel, and I haven’t gone back in since.” There was a calm in his voice and little bit of smugness for having outthought her command. “I wasn’t going to leave you with those monsters though. I had to do . . . something.”
It hit her . . . the police. There had been no reason for the police to have come there to find them. They had all been circumspect in their comings and goings and, for the most part, their true identities had not been known. So why did they come to the hotel to get them?
The Gathering Page 14
