Taming the Darkness: Love & Monsters, Book 2

by Devin Harnois

  The slasher made a hissing whine and tried to run away. There was nowhere to go but up. It got to the wall and started to climb, sticking to it like a huge lizard. Victor went after it, jumping and pulling the creature down. They hit ground, Victor twisting this way and that to stay away from the claws and spines. He got around behind it, a little to the right to avoid the spines, and wrapped his arms around the nasty’s neck. With a quick snap, the fight was over and he dropped the slasher’s limp body.

  He threw back his head and howled. Victor suspected his dose of the vaccine had a lot of werewolf in it. Stepping away from the slasher, he shifted his body back to normal. New normal, anyway. He wanted to lick the wound on his arm, but the scientists frowned on that sort of thing. He went up the stairs to have it properly treated. It would be almost gone by tomorrow night, but they insisted on cleaning and dressing his wounds anyway.

  When he stepped into the observation room, Claire looked at him with wide eyes and backed away. “You’re infected.”

  Victor held up his arm and looked at the wound, then over at her. “Did you forget? Or didn’t they tell you? The vaccine works. It’s just that it has all these side effects.”

  “Let’s go get you cleaned up,” Alston said. “You can come with us if you want,” he told Claire.

  She pressed her lips together and then nodded. Not running away then. Yes, they gave me a good one.

  Chapter Two

  She watched them bandage his arm and noted that the whole time a guard stood near the door with his gun at the ready. Now she understood why they’d had her meet him during the day. He was definitely different at night. Terrifying. The way he’d shifted his body just like one of them made her sick to her stomach. Still, when he got up to go back to his cell, she asked to go with him.

  Major Alston and the two guards went with them. “I’d like to go into the cell with him for a while, sir,” she told the major as they walked.

  “It would be better if you wait until tomorrow. He’s dangerous enough at night, but now he’ll be worked up after killing the creature.”

  “You want us to go out together killing nasties. I’m going to have to be around him not just after a kill, but during it. If I can’t be relatively safe with him in a cell, I’m not going to be safe with him outside the walls.”

  “We plan to make the transition gradual, to increase your chances of…success.”

  Claire thought he might have wanted to say survival. “I understand that, sir, but I’d rather be out there now killing nasties, and I think he would too.”

  Monroe looked over his shoulder at her, one eyebrow raised. “Thought my little demonstration might have scared you off.”

  “I don’t scare easily.” Although he had to smell her fear. She still felt it, but she didn’t act on it often.

  Monroe smiled.

  “You can spend some time with him, but I’m leaving a guard in the outer room,” the major said.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  They got to the cell and she followed Monroe inside. With him standing so close, she could appreciate how big he was. Had he always been built like a football player, or had that happened after he was altered?

  “You stink of fear,” he said.

  She swallowed. “I can’t help how I feel, especially after what I just saw you do.”

  “And you’re still in here with me.”

  He was a few feet away, much closer than he had been that morning. She’d thought he was intense then. Shit, that was nothing compared to what he was now. He loomed over her, at least a foot taller, his sweat suit stained with blood and darker fluids. And those eyes. Those damn freaky eyes.

  “Exactly. We’re supposed to be partners. I’ve got to learn not to be afraid of you, so why not start now?” Her heart slammed against her ribcage as she took a step toward him.

  Monroe took a step back. “What are you doing?”

  “I want to touch you.”

  “What?” He took another step back. “I might bite your head off, Little Red.”

  She’d been thinking much the same thing. “Then this will be a really fucking short partnership, won’t it?” Sweat dampened her armpits and the small of her back. She took another step toward him.

  He growled and backed away. “Wait until morning. Can’t control it now.”

  “We’re supposed to patrol at night, so I need to trust you at night.” She reached a hand out like she was about to pet a strange dog.

  He kept slowly backing away from her. “You smell like food. Scared food. Want to eat you. Can’t control it.”

  She fought to keep her hand from shaking. “Then why are you backing away?”

  He glared. “Don’t want to hurt you.”

  “So you do have some control.” Oh God, she hoped she was right.

  He kept backing until he hit the far wall. “Might bite your hand off.”

  “I need that to shoot with.” Her voice shook, but she forced herself to keep moving. Claire pressed her hand against his huge tattered sweatshirt, streaked with blood and who knew what else. Underneath it his chest was solid muscle.

  He closed his eyes, his breath coming in pants. It was easier to see him as human without those strange eyes, especially the blue one, looking back at her. But she could never forget what he was capable of. She was risking her life here.

  Slowly, he opened his eyes. “You proved your point. Now get away from me.”

  She dropped her arm and took two steps back. “I know I’m pushing it, but I want to be out there as soon as possible. I thought this whole thing was crazy until I saw you in there with the slasher. You really can go up against them, and a bite or a scratch won’t take you out. And we won’t have to worry about supplying you with weapons, since you’ve got your own.” Guns worked well enough against the nasties, but keeping up the supply of weapons and ammunition was a constant problem.

  “You just have to worry about me killing the people I’m supposed to protect.” He huddled against the wall.

  “You just have to worry about not killing me. You’re not going to be wandering around inside the walls.”

  “Yeah. This is the closest I’ll ever get to the city again.” He looked up at the ceiling, as if he could see through it to the street above. A pang of sadness went through her. He’d put himself at risk for the good of others, and now he was condemned to stay outside what little society was left. “My only chance of getting out of here is to go on patrol.”

  “Exactly. So the more control you have, the sooner we can get out of here and do some damage.”

  He fixed his gaze on her, and his eyes were the clearest she’d seen them all night. As sharp and clear as they’d been that morning. “Hard to be important when you’re stuck down here, right?”

  She glared at him. “I’m your ticket out of here. Don’t fuck with me.”

  He lunged so fast she had no time to react. Monroe snapped his teeth an inch from her nose and she stumbled back, her arms held up in defense. She heard hurried footsteps and someone shouted, “Step back!”

  Growling, he backed away from her. “I could kill you in a second, so don’t fuck with me.”

  The guard wrapped a hand around her arm. “Time to go, Lieutenant.” He had his gun trained on Monroe. She didn’t argue, backing out with him.

  Just as they reached the doorway, Monroe called, “See you tomorrow, Claire.”

  She decided she hated him. It was like he was determined to fuck things up for her.

  “No.”

  “Yes.”

  “No.” He leaned closer and growled in her face. “You stay up here.” Victor looked over at Major Alston. “Tell her she has to stay up here.”

  He saw the flash of anger in the man’s eyes and realized he’d just ordered around his superior. Oh, well. “I agree with her, Lieutenant. You’ve made considerable progress the last few nights.”

  “What progress?” He and Claire had done little else than argue and annoy each other, often at the same t
ime.

  “You’ve made more progress than any of the other pairs, and the brass is getting impatient,” Alston said. “They want results. If you impress us tonight, you can go on patrol tomorrow.”

  Victor almost drooled at the idea. The night sky, fresh air, no walls. And as many nasties as he could kill. But to get there, he had to keep Claire alive in the pit. He glared at her. “Stay in the corner and stay out of my way.”

  Her smile looked more like a challenge. “I’m not just going to stand there and watch you fight, not in here and not out there. Someone please give me a gun.”

  Victor growled deeper. “I can’t control myself when I’m fighting.”

  “You keep saying that, and you keep proving yourself wrong.” One of the guards handed her a sidearm and she checked it.

  “This is different. You don’t want to be standing next to me when the monster has free rein.” All it knew when it was down in the pit was fighting and killing.

  She chambered a round. “If you come at me, I’ll take out your kneecap. That should slow you down.” The smell of fear rose off her, which actually comforted him. She wasn’t going to be reckless.

  He stepped aside, which made the guards jumpy. They hated any sudden move he made. “Ladies first.” She brushed past him and opened the door to the pit. The smell of fear increased, which was going to make her a nice target for the nasty. He’d have to make sure he drew its attention, maybe by biting off a piece of it.

  The smell of bleach and other disinfectants tingled in his nose as he followed Claire down the stairs. “You’re crazy.”

  “Makes us even,” she snapped back.

  It surprised a laugh out of him. She stopped in the center of the room and took a wide stance with her gun up and ready.

  “I told you to go in the corner,” he said.

  “I told you I wasn’t going to.” She gave him another challenging look.

  Any second, the far door was going to slide up and something would come out to attack them. He should have asked what it was this time. Too late now. “Don’t shoot me by accident.”

  “If I shoot you, it won’t be an accident. Kneecap, remember?”

  Victor snorted.

  The panel slid up, metal on metal. Victor’s gaze fixed on it, the thing inside him calling out for blood and violence. Would Claire really shoot him in the kneecap? Would that do anything but piss him off if he went for her? Wait, I’m thinking. His mind usually wasn’t this sharp at night, especially not when he was down in the pit.

  For a few heartbeats, nothing happened. Then it stalked out, barely fitting through the door. The hellhound looked something like a hyena blown out of proportion and with extra parts. It had four horns, two on each side of its head, and a long set of jaws with a double row of teeth. It had a few names, but the most common was hellhound. It looked at Victor first, the biggest threat in the room. Then it sniffed the air and turned to Claire. Her fear wafted through the air. The hellhound growled deep, saliva dripping from its jaws. The one upside was that hellhounds weren’t infectious, but that would be a small comfort if it got those jaws around Claire and snapped her in two.

  Growling, Victor lunged forward and to the side, putting himself between the hellhound and Claire. The hellhound rushed forward and Victor met the attack, going for the creature’s throat. No playing around today. The huge jaws proved to be quite a problem and he barely missed getting a chunk torn out of him. They broke apart and faced off, snarling, each looking for a weakness. A gunshot roared through the room and the hellhound yelped. It swung its huge head around and fixed its yellow eyes on Claire. Oh fuck.

  “Claire!”

  The hellhound tensed to pounce, but Victor was faster. He slammed into the creature, knocking it briefly onto its back. It recovered, snapping at him. Victor avoided the teeth and the short but sharp claws, his own claws growing longer. The hellhound twisted around to get his soft belly against the ground and Victor jumped onto its back. He raked a furrow down its side, drawing a horrid keening sound from the nasty that echoed off the walls.

  The nasty bucked, throwing him hard into the wall. Victor got to his feet, but the thing was already running. Claire shot it again and it stumbled but didn’t stop. He raced toward the hellhound and whipped out his hand just as the thing leapt. His claws caught it in the leg and he pulled, yanking it back and down. It hit the floor with a thud only three feet from Claire. At least she had the sense to back away, sliding along the wall.

  Victor jumped on it again, getting a better grip this time. Trying to get at him, the nasty brought its head up and Victor darted a hand under its chin. Claws sank deep into flesh and the tang of blood filled his nose. The hellhound yelped and gurgled, still trying to get at him. With a snarl of triumph, Victor tore out the hellhound’s throat. It didn’t fall right away, but kept struggling as blood gushed from the wound. It sagged to the floor, growing weaker, but Victor wasn’t going to take chances. He grabbed its head and yanked back sharply, breaking its spine. If the torn throat or the broken back hadn’t killed it, the nasty would be too damaged to be much of a threat.

  Victor got off the limp body and watched it for a moment. It made mewling sounds as blood spread in a pool around it. He slowly backed away, fighting the desire to lick the blood from his hand. Or eat the hellhound. Another gunshot deafened him and the hellhound stopped moving. He looked over at Claire. She still had her gun trained on the nasty.

  “Gonna come after me next?” she asked.

  “No.” Even the monster inside him wasn’t considering attacking her.

  Claire lowered her gun. “Looks like we can call this a success then.”

  “You drew its attention. Don’t do that,” he growled.

  “I’m not going to stand there and just watch you.”

  “You’re gonna get yourself killed.” He took a few steps toward her.

  She lifted her gun a little. “I’ve been fighting nasties for years. I fucking know how to stay alive.”

  She had a point, but he wasn’t going to say that. Victor brought his hand up and licked blood off his fingers. Claire’s face twitched as she tried not to show her disgust. “Let’s go see if they liked our performance.”

  Chapter Three

  This wasn’t her part of town, and that made her jumpy. What made her more jumpy was how close Monroe was. “Stop breathing on me.”

  “You smell good.”

  She scanned the street. “What, like food?” Would he turn on her now that they were out here with no one watching them?

  “Like something I want to fuck. I want to roll around in your scent and wake up with it still on my skin.”

  Her mouth dropped open and she stared at him. Victor had the decency to look ashamed. “Sorry,” he said. “Don’t have much of a filter left.”

  “Filter?”

  “Between my brain and my mouth.”

  Although she didn’t want to take her eyes off him, she swallowed and turned back to the street. “You mean between your dick and your mouth.” There were enough problems to deal with without this.

  “That too. I bet I could do that. Put my dick in my mouth. I’m way more flexible than I used to be.”

  Claire kept walking. “You’re disgusting.”

  “You just figure that out?”

  “No. Just pointing it out.” It was awfully quiet out here tonight. Maybe it was just the location.

  He put a hand on her arm and she turned, ready to snap at him. Then she saw the alert expression on his face. He put a finger to his lips and then pointed ahead to their right. She squinted but couldn’t see anything.

  “Stay here,” he whispered.

  “No.”

  “I’ll flush it toward you and you can shoot it as much as you want.”

  She gave him a skeptical look. Well, if he ran off on her, she would just have to follow him. She nodded. Monroe, carrying no weapons and wearing a baggy sweat suit, stalked toward whatever he heard. A dozen yards away, he stopped and changed hi
s body. She couldn’t see much from the back, but she still watched in sick fascination. Did it hurt when he did that? Fingers stretched into claws, his already broad shoulders spread wider and she could only guess at what his legs were doing under his pants. He walked forward again, completely silent, his attention focused on a house near the middle of the block. The building was completely covered in ivy except for the tilted, crumbling roof.

  Claire kept thinking about last night, how he’d killed the hellhound. The way he’d called her name when the nasty turned toward her. Monroe had been protecting her, like a partner should, but with him it was so strange.

  He was now in the deep grass of the yard and leaned down low. He kept moving forward and it looked weird until she realized he was walking on all fours. Like an animal. Or one of them. She swallowed. He went around the side of the house and she fought an urge to follow him. Was it a trick? Was he running as far and fast as he could, escaping into the night?

  A moment passed where all she could hear was her own breathing and the light wind in the trees. Then a low growl and a rustling made her bring her gun up. Something rushed at her out of the darkness. She hesitated for a second, wondering if it was Monroe, but it was too small. A furbug. Six legs, a long thick neck, claws, a wide mouth, body covered in fur. Furbug, what a stupid name. Sometimes the dumbest names stuck, and you just couldn’t call it anything else.

  As the nasty closed the distance, Monroe appeared around the side of the house, chasing it. Flushing it toward her, just like he’d said. Just like a hunting dog. Claire fired and bright muzzle flashes left imprints on her vision. The nasty stumbled with the first hit, stopped with the second and fell over with the third. She kept firing, making sure it was dead.

  Monroe got up to the furbug and she stopped shooting. “Took me literally,” he said.

  “Huh?”

  “I said you could shoot it as much as you wanted. It’s dead.” He looked disappointed.

  “Plenty more where that came from.” She put in a fresh clip and stored the half-full one in her vest.

  He looked up at her. Even in the green night vision of her goggles, his eyes looked different. The left one was brighter. The corner of his mouth turned up. “Next one is mine.”