Dark Hunt

by Naomi Clark

  The vampire’s fangs grazed my shoulder, sunk into my skin. I had a funny, disorientated moment to wonder if my fur would get stuck in its teeth before Shannon screamed again. It was a war-cry this time, a furious battle-shriek as she rose to her feet and grabbed the torch. The vampire tore its fangs from me in a spray of blood, spinning to face Shannon as she ploughed the torch into its face.

  My own yowl of pain drowned out the vampire’s cry as the torch cracked into its skull. The salt-rich tang of my own blood flowing down my shoulder was enough to jolt me out of my stupor. In the narrow corridor, the vampire had nowhere to fall but onto me. I snapped instinctively, my own fangs crunching down through its coat and into its arm. The taste of bad meat exploded in my mouth and I had to let go. The vampire hissed and swiped at me with jagged nails, ripping into my muzzle and drawing more blood.

  Shannon raised the torch for another blow, but the vampire was too quick. One thin hand pressed to its face, it darted away, down the tunnel. Shannon made to go after it, but I barked, spitting a mouthful of foul-tasting blood and stopping her dead. She turned to me, chest heaving, torch still held like a weapon. The wild, murderous expression fell away from her face.

  “Oh Ayla, God...” She dropped down next to me, touching the bite on my shoulder gently. I whined and pulled away. “Is it bad?” she asked anxiously. “What do we do?” She glanced down the tunnel, then at the gate. Thérèse hadn’t made a sound since Shannon started battering the padlock and I wondered again if she was hurt. Did we chase the vampire or try to get to Thérèse?

  I took a cautious step and pain lanced through my shoulder. That made the decision for me; I couldn’t run down a vampire in wolf-shape. With a grimace and a growl, I shifted back. The pain intensified, sucking my breath from me and for a second I thought I might pass out. The shallow bite shouldn’t have cause such pain, but it had been loaded with vampire venom. How long until it spread through my body and I did pass out?

  With Shannon’s help, I got to my feet, clutching at the sticky shoulder wound. “What now?” I asked through gritted teeth.

  “Thérèse,” she said without hesitation, giving me her coat again. “Maybe you can rip the lock off?” she added hopefully.

  I yanked the padlock, wincing at the grinding shriek of metal on metal. Shannon’s assault with the torch hadn’t really done much damage to it. “It might give,” I agreed with less hope. The vampire had bitten into my right shoulder and I was right handed. Werewolf strength was all well and good, but I was just clumsy and uncoordinated with my left hand. I braced my bare foot against the gate and gripped the padlock. I pulled, the gate creaked. I wrapped my right hand around the lock too, ignoring the flare of pain in my shoulder. Shannon held onto my hips, offering a little leverage, and I leaned back, twisting and yanking at the padlock with all the strength I could muster.

  It seemed to take forever, with my shoulder burning, Shannon’s fingers digging into my waist and the lingering smell of the vampire clogging up my nostrils. I felt like bits of me were peeling away, sloughing off under the vampire’s poison. My head spun and my vision blurred. When the lock finally broke, the padlock coming away with an ugly groan, I collapsed, falling back into Shannon’s arms with a groan of my own.

  She staggered under my weight and we ended up back on the floor staring past the swinging gate at the black, bone-filled tunnel beyond.

  Seventeen

  I Leaned on Shannon as we headed down the tunnel, feeling dizzy, my body stiff and aching. My shift had stopped the bleeding, but my shoulder felt tender and sore and wrenching the padlock off hadn’t helped. The floor was rough here, stone and bone shards stabbed into my feet. The smell of rotting meat and stale blood was overpowering. “I feel sick,” I muttered. Surely it hadn’t been this bad last time?

  “Be sick then,” Shannon said, helping me down to my knees. “Better out than in.”

  I threw up, a stream of black bile that terrified me, as if my insides were rotting. I didn’t have much to compare the effect of vampire bites to. Silver Kiss had made me wild, an animal inside and out. I could almost prefer that to this heavy lethargy. Getting up again was too much effort; I had to cling to Shannon while she hauled me back up, wiping my mouth with her sleeve like I was a messy toddler. God forbid we ran into Le Monstre again. I’d be dead before I even realized it.

  Light-headed and trippy, I stumbled on down the passage with Shannon’s support, trying to pick Thérèse’s scent out from the bad-meat-old-blood stench. It was hard to concentrate when my legs and eyelids felt so heavy, but Shannon wouldn’t let me stop.

  “We go on together,” she reminded me, one arm wrapped round my waist to support me, her free hand shining the torch on down the passage. “If you stop, I have to stop too and then what happens to Thérèse?”

  It kept me going, kept me focused. The tunnel seemed so long. I started to think maybe I’d imagined hearing Thérèse. I kept waiting to hear the clang of the gate behind us as the vampire slammed it shut and locked us down here forever. Then the tunnel turned narrow, the ceiling low, so we had to stoop to avoid scraping our scalps on rough rock. Showers of crumbled rock sprayed down every now and then, coating us in dust as we jogged loose stone. The passage way twisted and there was nothing ahead but the drip-drip-drip of water. I was about to give up when a thin whine drifted out of the darkness.

  “Thérèse?” Shannon called.

  No reply. I tensed, uneasy. It was too easy to see the trap laid out, Thérèse as bait. I gripped Shannon harder, forgetting my wolf-strength until she winced and pulled free. “I’m not sure about this,” I whispered.

  She turned to me, face ghoulish in the glow of the torch. “It’s not Thérèse?” she asked.

  “No, it doesn’t feel right. It’s like we’re being lured in.”

  Shannon glanced down the tunnel, looking as uneasy as I felt. “It can’t have known we were following. What do you want to do?”

  There was no choice, really. Trap or not, Thérèse was still down there somewhere and I didn’t have it in me to abandon her. I knew Shannon didn’t. Using the rough walls for support, I kept going, trying to listen both for Thérèse’s whines and the vampire I was sure was creeping up on us. It’s what I’d do. Not really a wolf’s hunting strategy, but my human brain approved. Lure the prey in with a temptation they can’t resist, then strike.

  Hell, maybe it was a wolf’s strategy. It was pretty much how Sly had lured all those young wolves into his fight club.

  I pushed that thought away with a shiver. Sly was a long way from here. Shannon and I pushed on.

  Finally the passage started to widen again and the bad meat scent grew stronger. So did Thérèse’s musk and my heart surged. “Thérèse?” I called softly, my voice bouncing off the walls. An answering whine bounced back and Shannon and I looked at each other. I felt a surge of hope and dread. Shannon took my arm, helping me move faster and we stumbled on, almost tripping over each other in our rush to get to Thérèse.

  Then as if by magic, the passage turned into a cave similar to those in the tourist part of the catacombs. It was wide and high and round, the walls lined with bones. Shannon’s torch beam swung around the cave, sweeping over wolf and human remains. This wasn’t a neat display of arty skulls and stones. This was a graveyard, thigh and jaw bones broken and shoved into the walls at crazy angles, skulls gone yellow with age piled on the floor in pools of dark water. Cobwebs hung from shin bones and jutting rocks and the air was stale, reeking of death. Staring at the mounds of bones, I wondered how many were ancient and how many were Le Monstre’s victims.

  In a nest of broken bones in the far corner, her black fur melting into the shadows, Thérèse huddled, sides heaving, eyes closed. Shannon rushed to her while I staggered behind, clutching at the wall for support and grimacing every time my fingers touched a smooth, cool bone. By the time I reached them, Shannon was on her knees, the torch propped against the wall, her hands smoothing Thérèse’s fur.

  I more o
r less fell to the ground, scraping my abused legs on pebbles. I didn’t want to think about the other shapes that pressed against my skin. “Is she okay?” I slid my hands under Thérèse’s muzzle, lifting her head a little. She whined but didn’t open her eyes.

  “Look at her back legs.” Shannon drew my gaze down Thérèse’s long, lean back. Her hind legs splayed out at sick angles behind her, and an image of Moira Clayton flashed into my head, the night we’d gone after Sly. Her legs mangled, twisted and healing in the wrong position; permanently damaged. Thérèse’s were the same, exactly the same. My stomach churned.

  Bait, I thought again. Cornered, crippled and left for dead, left to lure me and Shannon here. I looked around at the discarded bones, smelled the odor of recent deaths, fresh kills on the air. This was the vampire’s lair and we’d strolled in like walking Happy Meals. Shit. I started shivering uncontrollably, cold and fretful. “We need to get out of here.”

  “Can you carry her?” Shannon asked doubtfully.

  I shook my head, hugging myself. I wasn’t even sure I’d be able to stand up again. “You need to shift, Thérèse,” I told her, lifting her head again and rubbing my fingers gently into her fur, trying to get her attention. “It’ll help.”

  She huffed at me, flattening her ears against her skull. “I know it hurts,” I said. “I know it hurts like hell, but you have to shift.” I could almost taste her pain. Looking at her hind legs, I could certainly imagine the brutal strength it had taken to break them, the agony she must be feeling, but if she was human, she had a better chance of getting out. In human shape, me and Shannon could support her. Wolf-shaped, she was stuck.

  “Will shifting fix her?” Shannon asked.

  “Not entirely, but it might fix the worst of the damage.” I reached out for one of Thérèse’s legs cautiously and she jerked violently, yelping and snapping at me. Her eyes flashed in the darkness, dangerous and wild. She wasn’t all there, I realized. Booze and werewolves is a bad combination at the best of times.

  “Thérèse, come on. Snap out of it.” I gripped her muzzle and shook her head firmly. If I was wolf-shaped, I’d grab her throat, but I doubted very much I’d get my human mouth through her thick fur to make my point. I growled too, putting all my anger and fear into the sound. Thérèse’s ears went back, flat against her skull and she whined submissively. “Right, so shift,” I ordered. I kept eye contact with her, reinforcing my dominance, but half of my attention was focused on the cave, listening for Le Monstre, certain it was sneaking through the shadows to corner us.

  Shannon clearly felt the same; she kept the torch beam roving around the cave, scanning every corner and constantly coming back to the entrance to the cave. The bitter tang of her fear filled my nose. I gave Thérèse’s muzzle a sharp tap to hurry her up.

  Thérèse rolled onto her back and shudders rippled through her, pained yelps escaping her mouth as the change took her. I could barely stand to watch as her twisted back legs lengthened and straightened, the broken bones knitting back together at nasty angles, shards digging through her newly-human skin and sending little spurts of blood flicking across the cave. The crunch and grind was sickening. It was the worst change I’d ever seen. I couldn’t imagine the agony Thérèse must be in.

  When it was done she lay naked and human at my knees, covered in bruises from head to toe, blood streaked up both ravaged legs. She gasped for air, little hurt sounds that tore at my heart. Her left leg was especially mangled, shin bone jutting sharply out to the side, bulging under her skin. Tears poured from her dark eyes. I was amazed she wasn’t screaming her head off.

  There was no way that Thérèse was walking out of the catacombs. I wrapped my arms round her shoulders, easing her into my lap for a hug. “Thérèse, we’ve got to get out of here,” I told her softly, hoping she could hear me. “I think I’ll have to carry you.”

  “You can’t.” Shannon swung the torch round to shine on me, blinding me. “There’s no way you can carry her.” She gestured at my shoulder.

  I patted the bite absently. It was tacky, throbbing, but whatever pain I was in couldn’t possibly compare to Thérèse’s. She huddled against me, pressing her face into my stomach and whimpering like a cub. “What choice do we have?” I asked Shannon. “You can’t carry her.”

  “I... I could go and get some help,” she suggested. She fished her phone from her pocket. “No reception down here, but if I head outside, I can call an ambulance...”

  I was shaking my head before she’d even finished speaking. “You can’t go wandering off! If that thing—” I couldn’t finish the sentence; the very thought made the words stick in my throat. “Help me get her up,” I said firmly.

  We were wasting time and as I saw it, the only choice that made sense was for all of us to go now. No splitting up, not when Le Monstre knew the catacombs and we didn’t, not when I was hurting and Thérèse was mauled. We might outnumber the vampire, but there was no way we had the advantage. If we stayed here bickering over the best course of action, I had a horrible feeling we’d end up trapped. Better we make our move.

  Shannon and I managed to get Thérèse up, her arms round our shoulders, her legs dragging uselessly along the floor. She bit her lip and mumbled endlessly in French, nothing I could understand, but I was betting it was close to fucking hell, I fucking hurt.

  Our progress was achingly slow. Thérèse’s weight tugged at my shoulder and we couldn’t go too quickly without jolting her legs and hurting her further. It felt like forever before we even reached the cave entrance and there we hit a new problem. One I might have remembered if my head hadn’t felt so fuzzy.

  The passage way we’d come down was narrow and winding; too narrow for two people to walk side by side, let alone three. “Shit,” I muttered. My head pounded as I tried to come up with a brilliant solution. If I carried Thérèse as I’d first planned, I could probably manage, if Thérèse didn’t mind getting her head bumped here and there. There was no other choice.

  Shannon took the lead and I swung Thérèse into my arms as carefully as I could. With her being so much taller than me, it was awkward and my shoulder screamed in protest. I gritted my teeth and followed Shannon. . The minute we were outside, I would give in to the pain and the poison and the weariness and collapse. Just lay down on the pavement and sleep. The thought was a lure, pulling me on. Outside, outside, outside... Safety, escape, freedom.

  We moved along in silence, hearing nothing but Thérèse’s ragged whimpers and our own footsteps on the stone. Shannon checked her phone constantly for a signal. I couldn’t relax, waiting for Le Monstre to leap out from some hidden alcove or the thick shadows. I couldn’t help wondering if there was a whole nest of vampires living down here, like one of those god-awful horror films Dad liked to watch when Mum was out, full of cannibal mutant families.

  The very thought of more than one of these creatures nearly drove me mad with fear. I picked up my pace as much as I could, forcing Shannon to move faster to avoid me treading on her heels. Finally we reached the wider sections of the tunnel and I could smell rusted metal ahead. We had almost reached the gate. From there it was just a few minutes to the streets of Paris.

  “I want Clémence,” Thérèse said with surprisingly clarity. Her voice was loud in the quiet cavern, echoing off the bone walls. She started struggling in my arms. “Where is she? Where’s Clémence?”

  “We’re taking you to Clémence,” I told her quickly, trying to keep her still. It was impossible to do; she was so lanky, I couldn’t keep her arms pinned and hold onto her at the same time. “Thérèse, please, I’m going to drop you if you keep—”

  A sound; a single sound, close but impossible to pinpoint, froze me. It froze Thérèse too. She went limp in my arms, eyes wide. Shannon didn’t hear it, but she stopped when she realized that we had, turning to flash the torchlight at us. “Trouble?”

  “Shh,” I hissed. Was that it again? Or was that dripping water?

  No. My blood ran cold when I h
eard the sound again, a little closer this time. A footstep; a single footstep that told us we were being stalked. The creature was working hard to conceal how close it was, moving one cautious step at a time. Creeping up from behind us!

  “How the hell did it get behind us?” Shannon whispered.

  “Doesn’t matter.” I nudged her forward. “Just keep moving.”

  Thérèse went still in my arms again. “I don’t want to die,” she whispered. “I don’t want to die, Ayla. I need to see Clémence.”

  “Nobody’s dying,” I said firmly. The gate was close. I eyed Shannon, wondering how she’d do moving Thérèse on her own. Shannon was slight, probably average strength for a human woman. She wasn’t a health nut by any means, but she looked after herself. She always said you never knew who you’d have to run away from as a PI. I doubted she could carry Thérèse, but maybe she could help Thérèse limp on.