Werewolf: Requiem

by Greg Hair

  And Jamie, son of Landon Murphy, the angry teen that allowed his hatred to overcome him and be led into further darkness by evil itself, became engulfed with love for his children, regret for his mistakes, and compassion for those who had fallen.

  Jamie fell to his knees, atop the rubble, remembering all the pain he had caused. All the death and destruction that followed in his wake on his path with Nicholas. His tears dropped to the cold, dry stone beneath him.

  He looked out at the field, through watery vision, and spotted Landon, LillyAnna, and Bianca, all dead. He saw Serinda’s grave up by the woods. He watched Annelise and Catalina lovingly cradle his children down by the lake. Jamie saw Ryker and Alessandro still valiantly fighting to the end, possibly to their death, with Nicholas poised to win.

  Jamie changed within. Then, suddenly, the new Consul Werewolf shifted, stood, and, red eyes burning, headed for Nicholas.

  Chapter 36: Requiem

  Approaching the massive black beast from behind, the blond werewolf gave a hard kick to Nicholas’ back, sending him flying several yards, landing face down on the ground.

  Nicholas jumped and turned, eyeing who it was that had the audacity, and strength, to knock him down. He changed to human form.

  “So, the student has come to kill the teacher. I see you’ve finally figured things out.”

  Jamie downshifted.

  “I was led down the wrong path,” said Jamie.

  “A path you wanted to go down. Look around you. You chose all of this. All your anger and hatred led you here. Not me. You had a choice. I always gave you a choice.”

  “I never had a choice. Not when you were pulling the strings.”

  “And a fine puppet you made. Look at what you’ve accomplished. Our enemies, your enemies, dead or soon will be. By the way, even I never killed my own father. I must applaud you for that one.” Nicholas clapped his hands.

  “I’m gonna kill you,” said Jamie.

  “Sure you will. And when you’re finished doing that, I’m going to finish what I started on the hill, and kill your children.”

  Jamie changed, his thick yellow fur bursting out of his body, as he ran after Nicholas. Nicholas remained human.

  Jamie lunged at his mentor, only to find his energy turned against him, as he flew toward the foot of the far hill.

  “You may have all these new powers,” said Nicholas, walking toward Jamie, “but you lack the experience. Did you really think you could kill me? I’ve got two-thousand years on you. Landon couldn’t even kill me, and you’re nothing compared to him. You’re just a puppy.”

  Jamie jumped up and ran, on all fours, shooting himself like a missile into Nicholas’ abdomen. The two flew back, into the earth, stopping several yards away.

  The teen straddled Nicholas, clawing the dark werewolf’s face. Jamie’s strength and speed had increased, but he found was still not a match for Nicholas.

  The black werewolf picked up the blond, and tossed him overhead, toward the castle. Nicholas got up and ran to Jamie, grabbing him by the leg, and dragged him to the crumbled wall.

  Nicholas scaled the mound of rubble, Jamie in tow, entering the castle itself. He dragged his protégé to the ubliet. Reaching the place of forgetting, Nicholas slammed Jamie against a wall, then again against the opposite. He dropped the yellow werewolf, and leaned down into the dark pit.

  Nicholas reached around, and pulled out a large spike, one that wasn’t connected to the Scottish teen girl’s decaying body. He reverted to human skin.

  “I wanted to do this your father, but you’ll do.”

  Jamie shifted to human as the sharp pole entered his stomach. Nicholas drove the spike further down into the cold, castle floor. Jamie was unable to shift.

  “Now, if you will be so kind as to die, so that I may inherit your Consul powers,” said Nicholas.

  Jamie laughed.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “You. You’re so smart, or stupid, that you beat yourself at your own game.” He continued laughing, his hands wrapped around the pike.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “After Serinda died, I never made you my successor,” Jamie said, laughing harder. “You were so focused on other things, like killing everyone, that you forgot to have me make you my successor. You get nothing.”

  Nicholas, more enraged than ever before, jerked the pike out of Jamie’s abdomen, and ran it through the teen’s heart, killing him.

  Outside, in the middle of the blood-soaked field, surrounded by the bodies of friend and foe, Landon Murphy began to breathe.

  Chapter 37: Requiem

  Landon got to his feet, and looked around. He watched the few left fighting, stop and stare at him, expressions of shock and amazement on their faces.

  Ryker and Alessandro each held their enemies’ hearts in their hands, still in the chests, the prey still alive. Seeing Landon rise, the vampires jerked their hands out, bringing the hearts with them, letting the enemies fall.

  Landon heard the crying of babies, looked toward the lake, and saw Annelise and Catalina, holding Bianca’s twins.

  He looked around further, through the fog, searching for LillyAnna. Atop the far hill, he saw Bianca, dead. Then, with trepidation, he scanned the bodies on the field. He found William, the one-armed vampire; Robert, the blind werewolf; Jasmin, the German vampire who had reunited Annelise with Ryker; Piper, the English werewolf who had shown Landon the horrific video of Jamie and Serinda’s wedding; and Bijan, the Persian werewolf. They were all dead.

  Finally, he found her, the one-armed, blood-drenched body. Landon walked over to her, knelt, and cradled her. He kissed her face, running his hand over her hair.

  From within Kilchurn’s walls, he heard the angry howl of a werewolf. Landon lowered LillyAnna’s head.

  “Nicholas!” he screamed. “Nicholas!”

  The first werewolf, in human form, climbed the crumbled wall, then descended. The astonishment on his face, crystal clear.

  “How?” asked Nicholas.

  “There is a power even greater than yours.”

  “No matter. I’ll kill you, finish your friends off, then go after the one with greater power, taking it for myself.”

  “Then quit talking about it, and do it.”

  Suddenly, from within the fog, Gar, the werewolf who had placed Landon at the bottom of the Venetian canal, appeared.

  “I thought I killed you once, already,” Gar said.

  “Looks like Nicholas isn’t the only one who keeps popping back up. Now’s your chance to finish what you started.”

  Gar’s inner werewolf emerged, and lunged at Landon.

  Only partially shifting, his hands becoming large claws, Landon grabbed his enemy, and ripped him in half, like shredding a piece of paper. He faced the Loch Awe, and tossed both pieced into the lake, sending his would-be killer to his own watery grave.

  “I told you in Venice that I would kill you.” Landon turned to Nicholas. “Okay. Your turn.”

  Nicholas stepped forward, then hesitated. For the first time, Landon saw fear in his eyes.

  “You should be afraid,” Landon said.

  Nicholas exploded in a fit of rage, shifted, and charged. With both claws, he grabbed Landon, throwing him over his shoulder, into one of Kilchurn’s still standing walls.

  Nicholas raced over, giving Landon no time to get up, picked him up and, like a piece of wood, stuck him over his knee.

  Landon, in excruciating pain, laughed as the black werewolf rammed his head, repeatedly, into the wall. Nicholas threw him to the ground.

  The dark-furred mass clawed, scratched, and swiped Landon, all over his body. Nicholas leaned down, biting down to the bone. Landon screamed, then laughed more.

  Nicholas leaned back. He stared at Landon, then suddenly, put his foot to Landon’s head and pressed.

  Landon grabbed the powerful, dark foot, crushing his head and threw Nicholas back several yards. Landon stood, his nude body healing. His eyes burned a c
olor no one had ever seen in a werewolf, or vampire, before—white.

  “I told you,” he said, “a power greater than yours. Now, I’m going to step out for a moment. Someone else wants to meet you.”

  Landon transformed, becoming the largest werewolf ever seen, nearly twice the size of Nicholas. The hulking red werewolf, eyes burning white, lumbered toward Nicholas.

  The black werewolf crawled, like a crab, away from the approaching Landon. Finally, Nicholas stood, facing the coming beast.

  Nicholas ran into Landon, throwing his arms around him, and squeezed. Landon raised his massive arms and brought them crashing down on his enemy’s shoulders, sending Nicholas to his knees.

  Landon hit Nicholas’ chin with his knee, sending flying back, halfway across the field. The black werewolf didn’t get up.

  Landon walked over, and straddled the unconscious Nicholas. The red wolf took his front claws and began shredding the fur and flesh from Nicholas’ upper torso. His back claws ripped the skin away from the legs. Landon bent down, and gnawed on Nicholas’ shoulder.

  Nicholas awoke, having changed back to human form, unable to fight back.

  “What do you want from me?” Nicholas screamed. “You needed me. Your light needed my dark. What do you want me to do?”

  Landon never shifted down. The great red werewolf bent forward, locking his white eyes onto Nicholas, and spoke.

  “Burn.”

  Landon, the largest werewolf to ever walk the earth, then, with one rear claw having reached the bone in Nicholas’ leg, scraped the hard white surface beneath the flesh, creating a spark.

  A white flame burned the bone, then ran under Nicholas’ flesh consuming him from within. Landon smelled the air, the stench of burning fur, flesh, bone, and soul.

  There, on the battlefield, in front of Kilchurn Castle, in the west of Scotland, Nicholas met his end as his body and spirit were engulfed in flames.

  The great werewolf stood, untouched by the fire, and walked over to Ryker. Landon downshifted, collapsing in his friend’s arms. The battle was over.

  “Let those that remain of his forces, live,” said Landon.

  “How? What just happened?”

  “What was always meant to happen.”

  “Don’t worry, we’ll get you back to Italy. You’ll feel better in no time.”

  “I’m afraid that’s not going to happen.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I was the vessel, and the cargo was too much for my body to take. Too much to repair. It’s okay, though, I’ll be with Lilly, soon. I’ve been to the edge of the next world, and it’s more than any of us had hoped.”

  “I didn’t get to say goodbye the first time,” said Ryker, crying.

  Landon coughed up blood.

  “Well, now’s your chance.”

  “No. I’ll see you again, someday.”

  Ryker ran his hand down Landon’s face, as the werewolf slipped away.

  Chapter 38: Requiem

  The fog lingered, like a thin bridal veil, slowly dissipating as the minutes passed, as the surviving members of Landon and Nicholas’ armies, reached a truce, and joined together to bury the dead. An innumerable amount of tears were shed as the fallen were placed into the ground at Kilchurn, the battlefield now turned into a sacred ground.

  A mass funeral was held for the lost. A lone bagpiper stood atop the hill, playing Amazing Grace, both as the final burial plots were filled and as the bodies of Landon and LillyAnna Murphy were carried from the field by a procession of werewolves and vampires.

  “Where are they taking them?” Catalina asked Annelise, both women holding Bianca’s babies.

  “There’s only one place Landon would want to be buried,” the vampire said. “They’re being taken to Ireland.”

  Hours later, the funeral procession that left Loch Awe in Scotland, made its way across the Irish Sea, onto the Emerald Isle, and entered the Ring of Kerry, in the west of Ireland. Gray clouds blanketed the sky.

  Ryker and Annelise dug the holes into which Landon and LillyAnna were placed. As Jacinda and Alessandro covered the bodies, with dirt and tears, Annelise stood at the front of the two graves, and faced the crowd. In seconds, not a single eye remained dry as the Danish vampire sang Hallelujah.

  And when she sang, “And remember when I moved in you, the Holy Dove was moving, too, and every breath we drew was Hallelujah,” many fell to their knees, wailing and weeping. Annelise, herself, barely made it through the song.

  No one spoke, as no one felt there was any more to be said that Annelise hadn’t sang.

  Finally, to conclude, she gave a heart-wrenching rendition of You Raise Me Up, backed by a single violinist, as rays of sunshine broke through the clouds above and streamed down on those in attendance, basking the many wet faces in warmth.

  Once the service had ended, those who were from Venice shook hands and embraced, the friends they had met through Landon, those werewolves and vampires whose lives he had touched and changed, and traveled far to fight at his side. Ryker approached Finian.

  “It was an honor to meet you,” said the Dane, shaking the Irishman’s hand. “Any friend of Landon’s is a friend of mine. You are welcome in Venice any time.”

  Kendrick walked up, his daughter Cate following.

  “The honor is mine,” said Finian. The Irish werewolf extended his hand to the English vampire. “It is very difficult for some to let go of things they have held onto for so long. Our children, and Landon, have shown me that, perhaps, it is time I put away certain feelings.”

  Kendrick took Finian’s hand.

  “Thank you,” the vampire said. “I know that Cate has decided to travel to Italy with Ryker, here, and I hear that Lennon intends to go, as well. I, too, have learned from this experience, that I must let her go, and be her own person.”

  “I can assure you that my son will protect her.”

  Ryker turned, walking away, leaving the new friends to their conversation, when Vladimir came up from behind.

  “You are a worthy fighter, my friend,” said the Russian. “Very stout.”

  “Thanks, but I still wouldn’t want to meet you in a dark alley.”

  Vladimir laughed, swatting Ryker on the back, making the vampire wince.

  “Should you ever need me,” the massive werewolf continued, “just call.”

  “I doubt I’d have any difficulty in finding you. Thanks again for your help.”

  Ryker shook Vladimir’s hand, said goodbye to the Russian, and noticed Catalina talking to her sister in the distance. He focused his ear on the conversation.

  “Thank you for coming,” said Catalina.

  “I forgive you, sister,” Graciela said, “for turning me. I was destined to be what I am, and you were destined to make me so. Our paths led us to this day, and the liberation of all—vampire, werewolf, and human—from this evil. Our parents would be proud.” She put her hand to Catalina’s cheek and wiped her tears away. “You are welcome to return home to Mexico with me, if you wish.”

  “Thank you, but my home is in Venice. I will visit as often as I can, though.”

  “Very well. Farewell, sister. May God, and the spirits, be with you on your journey.”

  Ryker stopped listening as the sisters stopped talking, and embraced.

  As the sun began to set, creating a surreal scene of beauty in the Ring of Kerry, the various groups went their separate ways, returning to places like Mexico, Russia, England, and Germany. A few didn’t have far to travel, as their home was in Ireland.

  Ryker and his group were the last to leave Landon and LillyAnna, watching the sun sink into the Atlantic, the final rays kissing the graves of their friends.

  Finally, the friends of the fallen left to return home to Italy.

  Chapter 39: Requiem

  Three days later, back in Venice, Ryker walked out of a grocery store, heading to Poveglia, carrying a sack. Thoughts of his friend entered his mind, without knocking and asking for permission, a
s they so often had since he left Ireland. The vampire mourned, when he could, for the fallen werewolf who had saved the world.

  It was only during moments like this, however, that he was given time to process his emotions. Now, most his time was spent thinking about the Senate, and who to choose as the new Consul Werewolf. As the only surviving Consul, and with Landon leaving no heirs of age to take the position, the choice rested with him and the few remaining Senators. Ryker had tried several times to gain Annelise’s input, but it was difficult to get an answer from her as she now had her hands full with other matters.

  Rounding a corner, lost in his thoughts, he nearly walked past the new home he and his wife just bought. Entering the two-story house, his attention focused on the noise he was still getting used to.

  “Liam,” said Annelise, “stop chasing your sister with that…that…whatever kind of toy that is.”

  Ryker snuck up behind her, kissing the back of her neck. The twin babies cried upstairs.

  “I love you, too. Did you get the food?”

  “Yeah.” He pulled several cans of baby formula out of the bag.

  “Bailey and Annica have been crying since you left. I gave the binkies, but I think they’re hungry. Can you help me make a couple of bottles?”

  “Sure. I can’t stay long, though. I have to get to the island soon. We’re making a decision today. Are you doing okay? I mean, you’re raising four kids, now.”

  “I’m perfect,” she said, kissing his lips. “This is what I’ve always wanted.”

  “I know. It’s what I could never give you. I’m glad you were there, in Scotland, to save the children.”

  Annelise stopped shaking the baby bottle in her hand.

  “Save the children,” she whispered.

  Ryker stopped shaking his, and looked at her.

  “Do you think that’s what you meant, when you were found after Kilchurn?” he asked.

  “You never know. Maybe, somehow, some part of me knew. I don’t know. Come upstairs with me, you feed one, I’ll feed the other, and you can go.”