The Monster Hunters

by Larry Correia

  The Alpha shook his head. “That’s what I told myself when I decided Mom needed to go.”

  “You . . . you . . . what?” Now the gun shook.

  “I loved her, but she was in my way.” The truth seemed to rob Kirk of his will. The Alpha moved, too quickly for his father to react, and wrapped his hands around the revolver. Kirk fought, but he wasn’t nearly strong enough as the Alpha steered the muzzle under his father’s chin. “Now you two can be together again.” He put pressure on his father’s trigger finger and closed his eyes.

  When it was done, he felt strangely empty.

  The Alpha stepped away from his father’s body and touched the amulet. Still nothing. He’d just severed the last tie to his mortal life. “What more can you want from me?” He roared in frustration, picked up a wrench, and smashed it to bits against the wall. The sun was up. They couldn’t afford to wait any longer. “Let this place be the first test, then. I’ll raise vulkodlak in other places, larger cities, with bigger populations. I’ll satisfy you eventually!” Lucinda Hood was in the corner. Luckily she hadn’t been crushed during the melee. He was at her side in the blink of an eye.

  The witch was coming to. “Wha—what happened?”

  “Harbinger knocked you unconscious. Come on. Wake up. It’s time to go.”

  Lucinda shook her head to clear it. “Give me a moment to prepare.” She reached into her coat and began unknotting the rope tied around her waist. The rope was the key element to one of the Shadow Man’s perfected teleportation spells.

  “Hurry. There’s nothing left for us here now.” The Alpha checked the air. His vision was shot, but he could still smell—with one nostril, at least. There was only one other living thing on their level. . . . “Wait. That’s it!”

  Lucinda was still wobbly. “What?”

  The female. Her grandfather had somehow stolen a bit of the forerunner’s spirit when he’d taken the amulet from Koschei, and he’d passed that on to his heirs. Whatever piece had been stolen was enabling her to exercise remarkable control. That had to be what the amulet needed. It wasn’t complete. “Keep working. This won’t take long.”

  He found Heather on the other side of the room, trapped. When he’d struck her, she’d apparently fallen onto a few pieces of broken rebar sticking out of the floor. There was one through her calf and another piercing her thigh, with a foot and a half of metal spike sticking out of each one. Far too high for her to lift herself off of, there was no way out on her own short of gnawing her own leg off.

  And from the look of determination in the red werewolf’s eyes, he could tell that she was thinking about it.

  “Regeneration is a spectacular gift. Except you can’t heal around a foreign body. Look at all that blood. I’m amazed you’re still alive.” He reached out one hand and used the gift that his mother’s line had bestowed upon him. “Calm . . . calm. Let me take your pain,” he whispered. “That’s all right. It’ll be over soon.” The female relaxed. She quit tugging on the bloody holes in her legs. She exhaled as his peace relaxed her, and began to shift back to her human form. He gently stroked her hair. “That’s right. It’ll be over soon.” He waited patiently until she’d returned to her original state.

  Once she was fully human, he removed his power and let all the pain come rushing back at once. Heather screamed.

  The agony had to be excruciating. “What’re you doing?” she hissed through gritted teeth.

  “Taking back what’s mine. Come on. This won’t take long. Stand up.” He grabbed her by the old leather coat she was wearing and hoisted her off the rebar. She screamed as the metal tore free. Holding her in his arms like a baby, he carried her back to the shaft. She had lost too much blood to fight anymore. Once the stolen essence had been taken back, he’d toss her down with the others that had dared fight him. It seemed appropriate that way. Someday, in a world full of werewolves, they’d build a shrine on top of this place.

  “Heather!” A single, feeble man stood on the catwalk. He was old, pathetically weak, and wouldn’t have too many more years on this world, even if the Alpha wasn’t about to destroy him for meddling. “It’s not too late! I know how to beat him!”

  “Somebody kill him already,” the Alpha ordered, but then he remembered. The entire pack was dead. One more thing he was going to have to rebuild. He unceremoniously dumped Heather on the floor next to the shaft. “Guess I’ll do it myself.”

  “Heather! It’s in your grandpa’s journal.” The old man lifted a small leather-bound book and waved it over his head. “On the very first page.”

  Interesting. It would be useful to know exactly how some mere soldiers had been able to defeat the great Koschei. The Alpha picked up a five-foot length of steel girder and tested the balance. He walked toward the human.

  “Read the words. Use it!” The old man threw the book at the female. It was actually a very good shot, and the book landed only a few feet from her. She showed surprising fortitude as she dove for it, dragging her torn leg behind.

  He looked back at the intruder. He would deal with Heather in a moment. The Alpha hurled the heavy beam through the air. It missed the man but struck the catwalk hard enough to shear all the rusty bolts from the wall.

  “Aino!” the female cried.

  The entire catwalk assembly broke free and collapsed to the floor with a terrible crash. A cloud of dust rolled across the room. He turned back to the female. She had rolled onto her side and had the book open before her. She was panicked, desperate, as she tried to find a way to stop him.

  The Alpha strolled over and snatched the book from her hands. “What’ve we got here.” The handwriting was loose and sloppy. He picked a random spot on the first page.

  See, I bear a curse. You learn to deal with it, or it deals with you. Crying about it won’t change a thing. Embracing it will destroy you. I have stared into the face of evil, and I’ve been the face of evil. I’ve done some bad things in my life. Good thing I’ve lived a long time, because I’m still trying to even that score. Some folks would call it penance. I call it my job.

  I am a Hunter. I am a Monster. I was born Raymond Earl Shackleford Jr., son of the greatest Hunter to ever live, in the year 1900. I’ve held many names since.

  Today they call me Harbinger.

  This wasn’t the journal of Aksel Kerkonen. The Alpha looked up from the page at the female. Treachery ran deep in her family. She held a different book in her hands and was reading aloud from it.

  It was a spell. The air crackled with raw energy. “Bitch.” He reached for the true book.

  But a claw came over the side of the pit, hooked him by the leg, and pulled him over the edge.

  Chapter 35

  Earl had one of those dreams. Where you were falling. And you bolt up in bed, wide awake at the last second.

  Only this wasn’t a dream, and he’d hit the floor hard enough to break every bone in his body.

  He lay there, staring up. There was a single perfect square of light, far above. It seemed so far away. He must’ve slowed himself quite a bit on that cable, or he’d have been dead on impact.

  Earl reached for the wall. One hand wouldn’t respond. He gasped in pain when he reached over and touched the bone sticking out of his forearm.

  Got to find a way out. Got to move.

  He couldn’t feel his legs.

  Well . . . shit.

  They say your life flashes before your eyes when you’re close to death. Earl didn’t buy that. He’d almost died plenty of times, and he’d never gotten the slideshow. But in those final moments, you did dwell on things . . . Things left unsaid. Things undone. This time was different. Like this, would have plenty of time to think.

  Far above, the Alpha was going to kill Heather. She was a sweet girl. She deserved a chance. Then the Alpha was going to get away, and he was going to keep on killing, only he was going to get better at it. All because he was a jerk-off with daddy issues and delusions of grandeur. He’d learn from that amulet, and he’d get strong
er. By the time the world knew what they were facing, it would be too late. He couldn’t even get word to MHI to pick up where he’d left off. The son of a bitch would flood bastardized zombie vulkodlak everywhere.

  He’d prayed for a cure. He’d tried to cut a deal with God to be rid of the curse. He’d done everything he could, searched the globe, turned over every rock looking for a way to end it, but never found anything. So he’d accepted his lot in life and made the best of it. He’d used his curse to be a warrior for good. He’d made kicking the shit out of evil into a business, and he’d saved a thousand times more innocent lives than he’d taken, but that entire time, he would have traded it all to be human once again.

  Got my wish. Lord, you’ve got a very ironic sense of humor. He would’ve laughed if he could have formed the sound. Here he was. Human again . . . only he’d be dead soon. And all the work he’d done, all the battles he’d fought, they’d all be for nothing. Guess I was wrong to waste all that time wishing for something when I should’ve just made better use of the gifts you gave me.

  “Harb . . . inger . . .”

  The voice was a hoarse whisper. So quiet that the first time he heard it, he thought he was imagining it, or maybe it was an angel come to lead him on. Now, that will be an interesting judgment day!

  “Harbinger . . .”

  Nikolai? He became aware of the presence next to him. The voice was inhuman, struggling to form words with a mouth that was filled with fangs and still partially transformed. “I’m dying . . .”

  Obviously. There were limits even to what a werewolf could survive, and three torn-off limbs was well beyond that point. Nikolai being alive was rather surprising. Stubborn Russki bastard. “Me, too,” Earl managed to croak. Fitting. They should’ve died together a long time ago, the last of their breed.

  “No . . . ,” Nikolai coughed. “Not yet. Smell . . . no death . . . on you.”

  Earl lay there, tried to block out the pain, and thought about it. He’d been hurt so many hundreds of times that he could be analytical about his injuries. He knew what broken vertebrae and shattered bones felt like. Nikolai was right. Earl wasn’t dying yet. He could survive this.

  They’d find him down here. Heather would be dead, and the Alpha would escape, but he could still survive to live as a man.

  And as a failure.

  There was movement. Nikolai shifted. He was right there, but it was too dark to see, too numb too feel. “The amulet . . . It’s surging. Strong. Magic . . . like never before.”

  What’s he getting at? The earlier surges had forced all of the werewolves to change, but Nikolai was too damaged to transform now. Werewolves couldn’t regrow limbs. He was melting back into a man as he died. Nikolai was about to punch the clock. And the amulet didn’t do anything to a normal man. . . .

  It wasn’t too late, but it meant giving up everything he’d ever hoped for.

  Nobody had ever accused a Shackleford of being a quitter.

  Earl lifted his less-broken arm and managed to shove it toward Nikolai. “Bite me.”

  There was a noise as the dying werewolf shifted. “Finish . . . it . . .”

  Crunch. Earl screamed as fangs pierced his hand.

  The jaws released, and Earl pulled his mangled hand against his chest. Nikolai was breathing in short, panting gasps. He’d be dead shortly.

  “Something . . . to remember me by.”

  Those were Nikolai’s last words.

  The ragged breathing stopped, and Earl was alone except for the ringing in his ears and the mind-numbing pain coursing through his broken body.

  Would it work? Or would it all be for nothing?

  He watched the square of light. It was all he could do. The Alpha roared, and the sound echoed down the shaft. Earl’s vision darkened as the light darkened from yellow to gray.

  No. Not darkening. Changing.

  The ringing in his ears was replaced with a hum. No. Not a hum. The Hum.

  The curse was in his blood again. Earl concentrated on the gray light. Normally it took weeks for the change to take place. But with that amulet . . . Heather had changed in hours, Buckley and the other cursed had changed in hours.

  He didn’t have hours. He’d be dead long before the healing kicked in.

  The werewolf-killed had changed into vulkodlak within seconds of death. Only, they’d been partial transformations. And what was he supposed to do? Wish real hard for death? And then come back as a mindless undead? No thanks.

  Heather had changed in hours because of that false moon. But she’d been a new werewolf. What could it do in the blood of someone already familiar? Somebody who knew exactly what he was looking for, and how to set it off?

  Lord, help me. Give me the strength I need to do this. Help me change. I’ll do my best. I will be a warrior in your service. Grant me your strength. Please.

  Earl cleared his mind and opened his soul to the Hum.

  His temperature was rising. Earl still couldn’t feel his legs, but he could have sworn that they just twitched.

  The Hum was everything. It was calling to him. Earl searched for his other half. It wasn’t the enemy. It was an old friend. He thought he heard a noise. There. It came again. It was a crackling noise.

  It was his spine realigning.

  Suddenly he could feel his lower body, and it hurt a lot. Everything was shattered. Yes! Earl welcomed the pain. He welcomed the anger. He welcomed the monster.

  Bone fragments ground together, slowly at first, then faster. He lifted his arm, put his hand in front of the square of light. For a moment, he thought he was hallucinating, seeing a vision of the amulet with its three claws. A finger was gone. There was just a bloody hole on the end of his hand.

  Nikolai, you son of a bitch, you didn’t have to bite my pinky off.

  Earl rose, stripped off his tattered armor, and began to climb. The change was fully on him now, but his thoughts were still clear, still coherent, still his. He found a handhold and pulled, another, and then he was moving upward. Bones twisted back together, then bent into new angles.

  The pain was horrendous. It was just as bad as the very first time, only now, instead of rolling around on the floor and going insane, Earl just kept climbing. He was not the man he had been all those years ago. Twenty feet up, and his nine remaining fingers had turned into claws, all the better to dig into the walls. Forty feet, and his teeth were sharp, ready to rend his enemy’s flesh. Seventy, and he was moving with inhuman speed, leaping up the walls, grabbing onto the smallest of ledges. Halfway up and all vestiges of his human form were gone. He climbed faster and faster, until he was bounding from side to side, kicking off and hurling himself upward.

  The square of gray light grew bigger. He heard voices. He felt the false Hum just ahead, like a giant screaming moon. There was Fey magic in the air. The Alpha was vulnerable.

  Earl broke into the light. He lashed out, grabbed the Alpha’s human leg and pulled. Earl let himself fall. Better to die dashing the evil one against the ground at terminal velocity.

  HARBINGER?

  The change was nearly instantaneous for the Alpha. One second he was human, the next he was a perfect werewolf. They fell together, striking and tearing at each other. The Alpha was faster, but in freefall, it didn’t matter.

  WHAT’S HAPPENING TO ME? SHE USED MAGIC!

  Earl hit the side. His claws tore divots through the rock as his body lurched to a stop. The Alpha snagged the cable twenty feet below and stopped his fall. He was rapidly increasing in size.

  WHY WON’T YOU DIE?

  He let go of the wall and fell toward the Alpha.

  Because I’m Earl Harbinger.

  The two collided. The Alpha held on, and Earl slashed him repeatedly, raking his claws to the bone. The Alpha struck him back with a force that should have killed Earl instantly. Earl hooked his thumb under the Alpha’s growing muzzle and tore out his throat. Blood cascaded down the shaft.

  King of the werewolves.

  They were falling aga
in. The Alpha roared as energy from the amulet flooded the shaft in scalding light. The Alpha had grown so much that he just thrust both arms out to the side and slammed his palms against the wall, stopping himself. Earl fell past but caught the Alpha’s leg. Claws raked him, but Earl sunk his teeth into the Alpha’s tendons and wrenched his muzzle from side to side. The Alpha screamed.

  I only have two rules.

  The Alpha’s foot claws sliced through Earl’s shoulder and knocked him off. Earl dropped like a stone. He looked up as the still-growing Alpha climbed frantically toward the surface. Earl casually reached out and grabbed the madly whipping cable. He stopped himself and began to climb.

  Rule number one. Leave humans alone.

  As he reached the Alpha, it lashed out at him. Earl launched himself from the cable, hit the wall, and scurried up with an agility that he’d never had before. He reached the Alpha’s arm and lit into it with tooth and claw. He tore divots from the bone and bit until he tasted marrow.

  Rule one. Violated.

  The Alpha was still trying to climb. He was confused how Earl was so fast, so unbelievably strong. He was trying to get into the open, where he could use his superior strength. Earl wasn’t planning on letting him. Earl could smell the fear. It was the most beautiful smell in the world. Earl never stank of fear. He thrust his claws into the Alpha’s neck and bit off his enemy’s ear. The Alpha’s cry of pain was like beautiful music.

  Rule number two. Stay off of my bad side.

  They reached the top. The Alpha sunk one massive claw onto the surface and pulled. Earl reached around the Alpha’s face and gouged both eyes out.

  You done violated the shit out of rule two.

  Earl clambered up one giant arm, raised his hand high, and struck three deep lacerations through the back of the Alpha’s hand. He hit it again and again. The Alpha wailed as he lost his grip. Both of them tumbled through the darkness, striking walls, careening back and forth. Earl just kept striking until they were falling in a red rain. The cable snapped past Earl’s snout; he reached out and took it, but not to slow his fall.