Get Bent! (The Hybrid of High Moon Book 1)

by Rick Gualtieri

  Oh well, at least I hadn’t hit it. Not only would that have hurt like a bitch, but I’d have heard about it for a long time to come. She was kinda partial to them, after all.

  Lying there bleeding as I was, I had to consider the upside. The way this fight was going, I probably wouldn’t have to worry about the landscaping for much longer.

  CHAPTER 38

  I stayed on the ground longer than I should have or wanted to. Couldn’t be helped. Craig had done a job on me. At the very least, he’d perforated the skin and muscle on both sides of my body. I had no way of knowing if he’d popped anything of importance inside, but it sure as hell felt like it.

  Maybe I’d get lucky and keel over dead the moment I stood up.

  Thankfully, I’d given my dear uncle enough of an eyeful that he hadn’t immediately fallen upon me and ended this. Double lucky that his pack believed in the honor system when it came to one-on-one battles.

  I turned my head and saw one of Mom’s goddamned garden gnomes staring judgmentally at me with its unblinking eyes.

  “Fuck you,” I whispered to it. Then, with far more effort than I cared to admit, I rolled onto my stomach and tried to push myself up.

  “GAH!” I went down to one knee again as the pain of my half-shredded body set all of my nerve-endings aflame.

  I glanced up and saw Craig had regained his feet, one paw furiously rubbing at his face. He was making a strange snuffling whine, which I interpreted to mean he’d definitely felt it.

  Good!

  His remaining eye locked onto me as I again tried to get to my feet. I looked down at myself. Though the light cast off the blood moon probably wasn’t helping matters, I was a mess. You’d have thought I’d been dragged five miles behind a car then dumped into a wood chipper.

  “What the fuck are you staring at?” I asked, forcing a grin onto my face. “Don’t you know that beauty is in the eye of the beholder?”

  My joke didn’t make him happy one little bit. He dropped his paw from his face, revealing his ruined eye socket. I had no idea if it would grow back. Hopefully not. If he managed to kill me, I’d rest a lot easier knowing I’d at least forced the fucker to wear an eyepatch for the rest of his days.

  Fortunately, in addition to making sure I’d thoroughly fucked up his binocular vision, I’d apparently done enough to make him more cautious. Had he rushed me then and there, he could have ended this as I was still finding my footing, but he approached warily, taking his time.

  My legs finally stable beneath me, I side-stepped into his blind spot, forcing him to correct course. Much as my sides burned, I wasn’t about to make things easy on him.

  Now that I was back on my feet, I felt a bit better, more steady. Maybe the damage hadn’t been as bad as I’d originally thought. Either that or I was moments away from dropping dead. Whatever worked.

  Wish I’d thought to borrow that stapler. As if my dear uncle would have let me take a time out to suture myself up.

  Craig, for his part, decided to try a new tactic. Rather than getting all close and personal for a love bite, he stayed at arm’s length and took a swing at me. I leaned back at the last moment and felt the rush of air as his claws sliced the space my head had been occupying a moment earlier.

  So that was his plan then, treat this like a boxing match and let his superior reach do the talking – a boxing match in which his gloves were tipped with broken glass. I seemed to recall Chris watching a movie like that once, but my brother’s shitty taste in entertainment was going to do little to help me here. I needed to think fast.

  Wrestling was all about getting close, establishing leverage and dominance. That was going to be tough with him swinging his elephant trunk arms at me. Another blow came my way that I just barely ducked, feeling as if my insides were on fire.

  Craig pulled his lips back in a mockery of a smile. He knew he had the advantage and that it was only a matter of time before he connected. The asshole could take potshots at me all night if he wanted. Eventually he’d wear me down.

  I needed to turn the tables before...

  Damnit!

  It wasn’t just Craig’s reach I had to worry about, but his stride, too. He took a big step forward, putting him well within range, and swung for the fences again. It was too close for me to duck this time.

  I raised an arm to try to block him, but he caught me by the wrist, his massive paw practically swallowing my hand. Before I could pry him off, he stepped in again and grabbed hold of my other arm, too.

  Fuck! I was caught like a rat in a trap and he knew it. He let out a chuckle and, before I could do anything, pulled my arms out wide and lifted me off my feet – effectively crucifying me, minus the cross.

  That grin appeared on his stupid furry face again and he began to exert pressure, pulling my arms further apart, no doubt trying to split me like a wishbone.

  If I’d been normal, he could’ve torn my arms out at the socket with one good yank. But the idiot forgot I wasn’t exactly chopped liver. If he wanted to play a game of werewolf mercy, then I’d give him a good run for his money.

  My arms nearly strained to their limit, I tensed my muscles and began to pull. Butterflies had been a part of my workout routine for years, so my core was already pretty darn strong. Add some supernatural genetics to the mix and the game was on.

  Uhhhh! Craig’s strength was nothing to sneeze at, though, and he had my arms at maximum extension, meaning my leverage was shit. But still I continued to fight with everything I had left, making sure that if he wanted to tear me in two, he’d have to earn it first.

  I managed to gain a little ground, my arms shaking from the effort, but that was the best I could do. How the hell could something be so strong?!

  But then I looked to the side and realized I wasn’t the only one straining in this test of strength. Craig was still grinning, but the tremors coming from his own limbs told a different story.

  Nice try, fucker.

  I’d competed long enough to know half the battle was psychological. My uncle was trying to win that war – intimidate me into giving up hope – but I saw through his façade.

  Unfortunately, while his confidence might have been little more than a dog and pony show, his teeth weren’t a bluff. They were more than enough to uneven the odds. It was one advantage I desperately needed to negate.

  Being of modest height could sometimes be a real pain in the ass. You always had to ask for help for anything on the high shelf. Hell, in another year, Chris was going to be taller than me. But a smaller size also had its advantages, too.

  One of them was being able to squeeze into tight spots others had trouble with, like a tiny sports car, or the small space between my body and Craig’s drool-covered muzzle.

  My legs were already hanging off the ground, so all I had to do was bring them up and plant my feet against his body, one foot on his muscular chest, and another right in his windpipe. It was a solid position to both keep his teeth at bay and be uncomfortable as fuck for him when I put on a little pressure.

  I kicked out with everything I had, pushing away from him with my legs even as he tried to rip me in two. The added pressure, not hurt in the least by years of squats, was enough to force him to ease up on my arms. His bug-eyed look as my sneakered foot disappeared into the fur at the base of his throat was kinda cool, too.

  Unfortunately, my sides were screaming from the exertion. I just had to hope that if one of us was going to pass out, he’d be good enough to do it first.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  In the last month I’d learned my uncle was a lot of things, but being patient enough to let me crush his throat wasn’t one of them. He couldn’t bite me in my current position, and if he tried to kick out, he’d end up toppling over. So he did a mind-scramble instead. He simply let go of my arms and I crashed to the ground, landing unceremoniously on the back of my head.

  Not exactly my most shining moment.

  He wasn’t finished, though. Craig grabbed hold of my ankle, swung, a
nd sent me flying. Add another downside of being relatively short – I made for a good shotput. Craig was no lightweight either. He launched me like a rocket, and I came slamming down onto the roof overhanging our front porch.

  Thankfully, I didn’t trigger whatever protections Mom had set on the house. Either that or my weird magic immunity buggered it up. Mind you, that didn’t mean my situation was exactly wine and roses. I sent shingles flying in every direction and left a good-sized dent in our roof before sliding off and crashing face-first onto the ground below.

  Hey, at least my newly smashed nose took my mind off the burning pain in my side for a few moments.

  Dazed as I was, I had to do something. The longer this battle wore on, the more I seemed to be fighting Craig’s fight. And the more points he accumulated on his scorecard, the bolder his pack would get. Yet, despite knowing all of that, there I was – lying face down on the grass while Mom’s stupid garden gnomes gawked at me with their stupid unblinking eyes from just a few feet away.

  Howls began to rise up from all around. Again, I didn’t pretend to speak werewolf, but they sounded pretty darned triumphant. Though I couldn’t hear them above the cries of the pack, the thud of heavy footsteps reverberated in the ground beneath me. Time was up. I needed to turn the tide in my favor now because I doubted there would be a later. Reckless action wouldn’t help me, though. I needed to be smarter, think strategically.

  I waited ... forcing myself to lie still while my uncle came for me. It went against every fiber in my being, but I held myself in check until...

  There came a chuff of air – Craig exhaling as he leaned down. He was right behind me, reaching down to grab...

  Now!

  Hoping I timed it right, I gritted my teeth against the pain and rolled – scissoring my legs so that one of my uncle’s knees became sandwiched between them.

  Power could be a defining trait in a fight, but everyone had weak spots and – large or small – most people had the same ones. For example, hit someone in the back of the knee hard enough and their leg will buckle beneath them, putting them on the ground. Fortunately for me, that rule held true for werewolves, too.

  Craig landed next to me, but I was already in transit, ignoring my injuries as best as I was able to. Taking someone down in wrestling was one thing, but the follow through was what won the match. Resting on your laurels was a good way to get pinned ... or killed in this case.

  I rolled to my feet before my uncle could get back to his, grabbed hold of the thick fur at the scruff of his neck, and dragged him forward.

  “Eat vinyl siding, asshole!” Counting on Mom’s magic, I plowed my uncle face-first into the front of my home.

  There came a flash of energy and we were both pushed back by the discharge, although Craig definitely got the short end of that stick. He let out a high-pitched yelp as smoke rose from his charred face.

  “Like that?” I asked. “How about seconds?”

  I shoved him forward again, planting my feet this time so I could properly grill his noggin until it was well done.

  Craig’s muzzle slammed into the siding with a satisfying sizzle, as if he were a cockroach who’d just stepped into the world’s biggest bug zapper.

  Heh! That shut up the howls coming from his friends. Now it was just a matter of seeing how long it took until he was extra crispy.

  He screamed out again and I put on even more pressure to hold him in place. Good! I hope there’s enough juice there for everyone you hurt tonight, you son of a...

  My hands suddenly closed on nothing and the pressure I’d used to brace against his massive body instead carried me forward.

  What the?!

  I rebounded off the house, my sides screaming in agony even though my nose took the brunt of the impact. There wasn’t time to waste on pain, though. I quickly shook my head and spun around.

  What the hell had just happened? There should have been no way for him to slip out of my grasp ... unless, that is, the fur I’d been holding onto was no longer there.

  Craig, back in his human guise, was retreating away from me across the front lawn. Goddamn it! I really needed to remember the one fundamental aspect of shape shifters – they could shift their damned shapes!

  Mind you, changing back to his smaller – and still disturbingly naked – human form wasn’t necessarily a bad thing for me. No teeth, no claws, and him a couple hundred pounds lighter meant I could potentially end this quickly. A small part of me worried about the ethics of putting my fist through his now human face, but perhaps that was a moral quandary for tomorrow – after I’d finished scrubbing his spinal fluid off my knuckles.

  The downside was I had to listen to him talk as he backpedaled across my front yard.

  “You fucking bitch!” he screamed, pointing to his charred face and ruined eye, almost tripping over his own feet as he tried to get away. “Look what you did to me!”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll give you a matching set.” Ignoring my aches and pains, I pushed myself to my feet and set off in pursuit. Victory was within my grasp.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  I realized my mistake about a second too late. He’d baited me, and I’d latched onto it hook, line, and sinker.

  Even as I closed to within striking distance – mentally debating between snapping him in half and beating him with his own arms – I saw him change. It made his earlier transformation look like slow motion. I saw now, as his body became almost liquid in its fluidness, that he’d been toying with me earlier, making me think I was taking stock of his abilities when in reality he’d been holding back. The transformation took all of a second. It wasn’t enough for him to fully change, but it was plenty of time for the bulk of his size, strength, and reach to return.

  He lashed out with a fist, catching me full on in the gut before I could reach him, almost certainly popping every last staple still in my stomach. All of the air in my body was instantly knocked out of me. I didn’t even have enough left to cry out.

  The blow would have been more than enough to send me flying again, but Craig’s reflexes were lightning fast. He grabbed me by the shirt and held me aloft, leaving my feet dangling at least a foot off the ground.

  I was too busy trying not to puke my guts up to do much more than hang there, waiting to see whether he’d eviscerate me or twist my head off like a beer cap.

  CRACK!

  Neither apparently, as he hauled off and pimp-slapped me in the side of the face, hard enough to make me momentarily forget that my innards had just been rudely rearranged.

  I should have been worrying about the people of High Moon and what the werewolves would do to them once I was gone. Yet, the only thing that seemed to pop into my dazed mind was all the money my parents had wasted getting me braces back in the sixth grade.

  Kinda funny what we think about when the end rears its ugly head.

  Craig did it again, making sure I had a matching set of bruised cheeks and a ringing in my ears that wasn’t likely to end anytime soon.

  Barely cognizant enough to realize what was happening, I felt myself lifted higher. Craig held me aloft with one arm, then threw back his head and howled at the blood moon above us.

  The others quickly joined in, their voices drowning out all other sounds. I knew what it meant. My uncle was proclaiming victory and his pack was chiming in to acknowledge him as their one true master.

  I also knew what that meant for me. The end was....

  “How disappointing.”

  Huh?!

  Craig must’ve knocked more than a few screws loose in my head, because what I’d heard wasn’t possible. Not only had I somehow clearly heard a voice above the braying of the wolf pack around me, but it was one I knew as well as my own.

  “Riva?” I sputtered, spitting out blood.

  I cracked open my eyes. Yeah, I’d definitely been hit too hard. There, standing only a few feet behind Craig, was my friend, looking just as I’d left her a few hours earlier.

  She was staring up at me
with a curious look on her face – whole, unmolested, and seemingly unconcerned that she was about to be torn to shreds by werewolves.

  CHAPTER 39

  “Are you dead or am I hallucinating?”

  The question was lost to the continued howling of Craig and his pack, yet Riva inclined her head as if she’d heard me.

  “Neither,” she replied, her voice as clear as if we were chatting in a quiet room.

  Somehow I didn’t believe her.

  “What you believe is irrelevant,” she replied to my unspoken statement. Oh yeah, I was definitely going loopy in these last few minutes of life. “Or it will be if you continue along this path.”

  I looked down and saw Craig rearing back with his free hand, the claws splayed wide. Call me paranoid, but I had a feeling he was about to make a jump rope out of my intestines.

  I’m open to suggestions.

  “You were given life during a moon such as this,” Riva replied in a tone more at home studying for a math test than surviving a monster apocalypse. “We saw an opportunity to bring you into existence. You, a rare thing that has only existed once before.”

  Oh yeah, that’s real helpful.

  “Little did we know then how you would honor our deed with a blood sacrifice.” Riva smiled. “Almost as if some part of you instinctively knew where you came from. You empowered us, threw down the walls keeping us out. For this, we thank you.”

  Riva was talking gibberish now, leading me to believe that I probably had brain damage at this point. I guess it could have been worse. A hallucinatory Chris could have appeared and started discussing his collection of Pokémon cards, something that would have made my last few seconds feel like an eternity.

  “We offer you this boon,” Riva continued, choosing to ignore my thoughts. “The blood moon empowers your foes, as it does all those touched by the wyrd. That includes you, Tamara. Know that all things are possible beneath a blood moon. That included your birth and most certainly includes your continued survival.”