by Stacey Mewse
‘It’s not worth it Hunter.’ He insisted, grabbing the other man by his shoulders and shaking him. ‘You need to get it under control, you don’t need to sink to his level to have your revenge.’
Hunter looked up at him and the red haze slowly cleared. He slumped back against the floor, exhausted mentally and physically.
‘He’s dead?’ He asked, uncertain.
‘He’s dead.’ Mason replied ‘Just take a look…’ He released his grip on the scarred werewolf beneath him and stood back to let him move.
Hunter slowly seated himself and looked over to the carnage in the centre of the room. It was horrific, the sight bought bile rising up his throat. He gagged and turned his face away.
Varulv was no longer recognizable as anything more than a pile of steaming meat. Blood surrounded his tattered body in pools and splatters, and his organs were strewn about next to him. Beside his remains Eve stood over Tobias, whose sides were heaving weakly. Hunter scrabbled over to them, looking down on the beta male cold realization struck him hard. The wolf’s dirty blonde fur was matted with blood and a deep gash ran across his belly. His gut had been sliced clean open and his intestines were bursting out of the opening. Hunter knew it had been his blade that had done it. He desperately wanted to make it better somehow, but as he got closer Eve turned and snapped viciously at him. Shocked and hurt he tried to get closer again, and this time she flung herself at him, grabbing his arm and biting hard.
Hunter withdrew, her message was clear. He could do nothing but watch as she sank down next to Tobias’ fallen body. She laid her head over his neck and nuzzled at his ears, licking at him like a loving mother might a wounded pup. He whimpered and she whined in return, nuzzling him gently as tears filled her eyes. Hunter looked away as Tobias’ breathing slowed, it was not a moment for him, he knew that she wanted to be alone with her pack-mate in his final moments. He had no right to disturb that.
As he turned away he saw the ruined body of Varulv’s last victim, and Finnlay’s body sprawled awkwardly on the dirty floor. He knew the other man was dead from the crazed angle of his head, but did not dare to look closer. It was too late to save him, why gawp at his remains?
On the far side of the room Mason stood over the limp form of Matthew. He had reverted back to human form and was clearly in a lot of pain, but he was alive. Hunter scrambled towards them and sank to the ground. He looked over the redheaded man and could see no external injuries except for a few shallow cuts on his side. He looked at Mason and back to Matthew, it was a good sign that his cuts were beginning to heal, but his ribs were cracking as he breathed. He knew that there were a lot of internal injuries, and that they needed to get him to the pack house as quickly as they could.
‘I – I’m sor –’ Hunter began to say, but he was cut short by the most mournful sound he had ever heard.
Eve had thrown back her head and was howling in grief. The noise that escaped her filled the air and was so laden with sorrow that tears began to stream down Hunter’s cheeks. Tobias was dead… He had killed him. Eve howled and howled until there was no air left in her, and then she took a deep breath and howled again. Mason threw back his head and from his human mouth bellowed forth a completely lupine howl. Matthew whimpered.
Hunter hung his head and cried. Tears streamed down his face for Tobias. For Eve’s grief and the pack’s losses. For Finnlay. For his mother and father, and for Lucy.
Chapter 40
They had stayed in that basement for hours, they howled and cried and after a time became too exhausted to continue doing so. Only then did any movement occur.
Mason went to Eve and told her quietly what he was going to do, then wearily scaled the cellar steps and left to find a payphone. He found one a few streets away, and was thankful it was still dark. Had anyone seen him in the light he’d have been arrested on the spot, he was covered in blood. He called the pack house and quickly told them where to meet them, deliberately being vague about why. Even though he knew it was unlikely he still thought that perhaps the police might have bugged local phones to help them find the murderer who had evaded them so well.
It was Jeremy, the pack delta who answered the phone at the far end. He promised that cars would be sent for them there and then, and hung up to run and inform Alfred that they would be on their way.
Mason had jogged back to the ramshackle house and found Hunter to be sat on the bottom cellar step. He had removed his T-shirt and given it to Matthew, who still lay on the far side of the room. Hunter had also fetched the sheets from the beds upstairs and under Eve’s watchful eye had wrapped the remains of the Varulv in them. He had stuffed him into a double duvet, scraping the gooey mess of his remains into it and wrapping it tightly up. He could not bear to look at what was left of the old werewolf, no matter how cruel he had been in life. Hunter was not sadistic by nature, and the mess of body parts sickened him. He had gagged and retched. Not able to bear the slick softness of the dead werewolf’s organs mushing in his hands as he scooped them up. He had wanted to vomit but had somehow held it down, though he had to have a break before moving on to the pack member’s bodies.
It was when he was sat on the step recovering from the ordeal of his first clean up that Mason laid a hand on his shoulder. He jumped but did not turn to look at the other man.
‘I could use a little help’ Hunter murmured, stunned by pain and grief and weakened in the aftermath of his anger.
Mason stepped past him and picked up a sheet from the crumpled pile by Hunter’s feet. He crossed the room to Finnlay’s prone body and looked down at him with great sadness in his eyes. Finnlay had been a good friend, they had grown up together… He let tears roll down his cheeks as he straightened the other man’s head and began to wrap him slowly and carefully in a grubby old sheet. Once this was done he lifted him over his shoulder and carried him to the bottom of the steps, where he placed him carefully by Hunter’s feet.
Hunter looked up at Mason’s tear stained face, and seeing the tear tracks running through the blood caked to the other mans cheeks bought him back to reality a little. He knew that he needed to suck it up and help him to wrap Tobias.
Between them they picked up the final sheet and walked slowly to Eve. She sat in lupine form next to Tobias’ body, which had reverted back to human form in death. Her head hung low and she did not look up at them. Mason asked permission to wrap Tobias and when she did not answer they slowly began the task at hand. She was lost in her grief, and the job needed to be done.
Hunter did not see her look at them once whilst they took care of binding Tobias’ body up in the blanket. Her eyes were screwed tightly shut and she seemed empty somehow. He imagined she looked as he must have when he discovered Lucy’s body.
After Tobias was carefully wrapped up, they carried him to the bottom of the stairwell and lay him gently next to Finnlay. Then Mason prodded Hunter up the stairs to the kitchen, where they tested the taps in the sink. They had been shut off a long time ago. Growling to himself, Mason murmured to Hunter.
‘We’ll have to burn it when we leave.’
‘The neighbors?’ Hunter asked.
‘The neighborhood is derelict, can’t you smell that? Besides, it’s our only option.’ Mason insisted.
Hunter sniffed at the air and knew the other werewolf was right, there were no fresh human scents other than the woman Varulv had killed. Once he was focusing on it, it became abundantly clear that the street was entirely abandoned. Even the homeless seemed to have avoided it.
‘You’re right.’ He replied ‘it’s all that can be done. It’s not like we can leave werewolf DNA everywhere to be found…’
Mason nodded, and just as he turned to make his way back to the cellar staircase the front door burst open and Arthur, Jeremy and James poured through.
Hunter looked at them wearily, before he could reply Mason was ushering them down the stairs and recounting the night’s events. When they reached the foot of the stairs and saw the bodies of their pack-m
ates the three male werewolves burst into a chorus of mournful howls. Eve raised her head weakly and joined them. Only once they had sung their song of grief did they allow themselves to cry.
Tears streamed down Jeremy’s face as he hauled up the blanket that contained Tobias’ body. He carried his beta up the steps and out into the car in silence, his breathing labored in his grief. James and Mason picked up the remains of Varulv and bundled them into the boot of a second car. Arthur crossed to Matthew’s side and helped him up carefully, aiding him up the stairs and into the back seat of the first vehicle. Matthew gasped in pain when he sat too heavily, and screwed his eyes shut as though it might somehow help.
With the others gone and waiting, Hunter looked across at Eve and his face fell. He had never seen another creature look so utterly bereft. He sat with her head hung so low her nose almost touched the floorboards. Her ears were held back and her coat was matted with blood and tears. She looked defeated, and as he stood there watching her take deep, sad breaths she began to whimper.
That was all that he could take. Despite the fact she had chased him off of Tobias, he felt so deeply for her that he had to try and help her somehow. He walked slowly towards her and sat down next to her. He was dwarfed by her in her lupine form and she could have easily ripped out his throat had she been offended. But she did not move. She did not even glance up at him.
Hunter cleared his throat quietly and offered the most sincere and yet somehow feeble apology of his life. ‘I’m so sorry Eve…’ He paused, uncertain of anything that he could say that would ease her pain ‘I –’
Eve raised her head and stared into his eyes so intently that he felt perhaps she could see into his soul. She silently glared at him for what seemed like hours, though only seconds passed. He was convinced she was about to tear out his throat… But then she did something he had not expected.
Slumping down on to her belly she lifted her great black furred skull onto his lap. She lowered her head and rested its weight on his thigh, and then she nuzzled at his hand. He was nervous of her but he wanted to comfort her. For a second he did nothing, and then he lent forward and hugged her head softly.
He whispered into her furred ear ‘it will be ok. It doesn’t feel like it now, but I promise it will be.’
Eve whimpered quietly, and she pushed her head into his embrace. Then as suddenly as she had pushed herself onto him, she withdrew. Standing on trembling legs she turned away from him and limped up the stairs with her tail between her legs. She held her head low and did not check to see if he was following. She knew he would be. Once she reached the cars outside she glanced back briefly and hopped into the back seat of the second one. She stretched across the seats and closed her eyes... Beaten, tired and exhausted.
Hunter followed her slowly and wearily. He sought out Jeremy and asked him if he had what was needed to burn the place down. Jeremy nodded and pulled two cans of petrol from the foot well of the car he was stood beside. He handed one to Hunter and together they soaked the cellar and stairs. They left a trail all the way back to the front door. Jeremy stood at the doorway and lit a match, which he tossed into the building. It struck the trail of petrol and the place ignited with a loud whooshing sound. The fire roared down the stairs and they both hopped into the waiting cars, which drove away rapidly.
Epilogue
The journey back to the pack house was a blur for them all, especially those who had fought Varulv. Eve and Matthew slept the deep sleep of the weary and wounded. Mason drifted in and out of sleep, and Hunter stared blankly out at the roads. He was left feeling empty by the destruction of the man who had caused so much chaos in his life. The feeling of elation he had expected to feel was not there. He had felt rage, followed by shock and then numbness.
It was all over.
Upon their arrival the fighters were ushered into the house and taken immediately to Alfred. He sat alone in his dimly lit library, surrounded by open books. He asked them to recount the tale of what had happened and excused Eve to her room to transform. He sent Matthew to see Anna for medical treatment only once he had heard his side of the story. When all had been relayed to him from every point of view, Alfred dismissed them and sat alone in his study for quite some time.
Hunter was shown to a spare room by Mason, and each of the rest of the party retreated to their own quarters to rest. All of the hunting party were utterly exhausted, and not one of them was awake within half an hour of arriving at the pack house that night.
While the victorious party slept, Alfred had Jeremy and Arthur head out to their traditional burial ground in the woods. They dug Tobias’ grave in somber silence, and the next day a beautiful ceremony was held in his honour. The whole pack cried and howled in unison. Varulv’s remains were unceremoniously burned later that night and the bones left in the woodland to be scavenged by the creatures who lived there.
Eve and Hunter watched the burning of his body with grim fascination. It was the end of him, truly and finally. As they stared into the flames he gently laced his fingers between hers. At first she was stiff and resistant, but she did not move away. They walked back to the pack house together when the flames had finally died down, side by side and in silence.
*****
Audra had run until her feet bled on the night of Varulv’s demise. She knew nothing of the death of her intended mate, but something in her told her things were amiss.
She had expected to hear from him, or to see him within a day of fleeing the house… But he did not appear. After forty-eight hours had passed she made a drastic decision for her safety and the safety of her unborn child. She did not do so lightly, and as it dawned on her that it was the only way she felt physically sick with the thought.
She emptied a secret bank account that she had kept in case of emergencies and took off in a cab to the nearest airport. She chose her destination based on the number of her kind she knew to be living there and nothing else. She needed as sparse a population of werewolves as possible… She didn’t know who she could trust. Her kind simply weren’t safe for her to be near in light of whose child she carried.
She boarded her plane nervously, convinced she was being watched. Only once she had seated herself and the plane finally took off did she begin to feel more secure.
She was taking her pup home…
About S. L. Mewse
S. L. Mewse was born in 1987 in the old Roman town of Chichester in West Sussex in the UK. She spent her early years by the south coast before moving to Cambridge and then back to a small village near Bognor Regis in West Sussex a few years later. She now lives a peaceful life in the Midlands after having spent some time living in London, and thoroughly enjoys the peace and quiet!
Fiction has always been a passion of hers, and she began writing in the fantasy genre when she was in her mid teens. As she grew her focus changed and she now primarily writes horror fiction, with a particular love for the supernatural. Monsters, ghosts and ghouls are her favourite subject matter, and her writing is blood soaked and frightening.
Not only is S. L. Mewse an author, but also an artist, cancer survivor and a keen animal lover. When not writing she can usually be found walking her dog, painting or with a crochet hook in her hand. She enjoys creativity across a variety of mediums and is always happiest when surrounded by her pets.
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Thank you very much and I hope to horrify you again!
S. L. Mewse
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