The White Wolfs Curse

by The White Wolf's Curse

  Fador stood suddenly and started shoving sand over the fire with his foot.

  “Come on. There’s a good spot to sleep up the beach a ways, where you won’t get so much sand on you.” He helped Erica to her feet, casting one more glare Michael’s way before leading her out.

  Michael sat quietly, wondering what in the world had possessed him to say anything at all in front of her like that. Wondering, too, why it should matter so much to either of them that she was so scared. In his heart, he knew the answer to both questions. The first brought him shame, knowing he’d only done it to get back at Fador for doing what he himself would have done in a heartbeat, having her all to himself for once. The second…. He stood, dusting himself off before stepping out of the shadows and following the others up the beach.

  Chapter Nine

  “I don’t like this.”

  The camp was eerily quiet, setting Fador’s already frayed nerves further on edge. There was no outward sign of a threat, but the hair on the scruff of his back stood on end and he had to fight the impulse to lay still. Michael was further back the way he’d come, close enough to hear his call if things didn’t go as planned, but still close enough to protect Erica.

  Asshole. He still couldn’t believe Michael had said all of those things and gotten her worrying like that. It took several hours longer than they’d originally anticipated for her to finally go to sleep so they could set the plan in motion.

  All his damned fault. It was now well past midnight, the time they’d planned on making the attack. Now they ran the risk of both early risers, a problem they usually had with hunters, as well as night owls too inexperienced to rest when the sun went down.

  Fador said a silent prayer that nothing would go wrong, taking a careful sniff of the cool night air. Satisfied the men were all inside the compound, he edged his way through the brush to the side of the building. Running along the wall, he paused under each window, lingering longer under a lit one when he heard raised voices inside the room.

  Good. Argue away boys. Hell of a lot better than you assholes getting along. It would have been so much better if they were all asleep, but he didn’t have any more time to worry about who’s fault it was, if anyone’s, that they weren’t. Coming around a corner he lay on his stomach and froze as he spotted two men.

  Only two, or are there more?

  The wind blew softly away from him, offering no answers to his silent question. He watched in silence. One of the men sat on a crate. The other leaned heavily against a tree, mostly obscured by the shadows of its branches, and Fador might have missed him if not for the faint amber glow of a cigarette. The wind changed directions, blowing in from the sea, bringing with it the scent of not two, but three men. The thrum of a generator completely drowned out the sound of the ocean.

  Damn it. How do I get in now?

  Fador backed behind the corner slowly, moving only fractions at the time to keep from being noticed.

  Figures.

  Standing, he retraced his steps and ran around the other side of the building

  There has to be an open window somewhere. He didn’t like his odds if he was forced to try the only door, with those men sitting around in front of it. They’d be sure to raise an alarm and wake everyone up if they caught even a glimpse of him.

  This time, the wind favored him and he turned the next corner without a problem. He paused at every window he came to, but found that while none of them were lit, they were also all locked tight. Fador found he had gone the whole length of the building in no time at all and growled his frustration as he was forced to stop at the at the next corner. One more and he’d be running along the side where the men sat.

  The tang scent of man sweat and the sound of heavy breathing met his ears, causing a flood of relief.

  At last. An open window? He chanced a peak and confirmed it.

  Better yet, unguarded! Waiting for a cloud to block out the moon, he ran over to the window, checking inside a moment to ensure a smooth landing before leaping inside. A man lay asleep on the bottom mattress of a bunk bed. Fador changed into a man, moved stealthily over to the man’s side, and ended his life with a quick twist of the neck. Creeping over to the door, he opened it fractionally before taking on his wolf form again.

  He allowed the sights, sounds, and smells of his enhanced senses to wash over him. There were other men close by, but they were all sleeping. He could hear the sound of their breathing over an omnipresent metallic thrum.

  Pushing through the door, Fador walked quietly down the unlit hall past nine other doors, following the vibrations in the floor and in the air caused by the generator, knowing it would lead him to the correct door. He stopped at a short hall. He could smell cigarette smoke and fresh salty air. The two men were now talking quietly, but their words were lost to Fador over the louder sound of the generator. There were other voices close by, but he could tell they were somewhere deeper inside, behind a closed door.

  Now, where is the fuel?

  Keeping close to the wall, he moved down the hall and around another corner into the loading area. There was a jeep inside, and two doors across from where he stood, one of which was far too close to the open bay doors for him to chance it. Looking around the corner, he spotted a door in the wall close to where he stood and two more in a hall further down to his left.

  Fador ran to the nearest door, standing on his hind legs and turning the knob.

  Shit! Locked.

  He dashed across to the other side of the bay, only to find that the second door was locked, too. He could tell now that the generator had to be behind the door he couldn’t get close enough to try. The sound of movement to his left caught his attention and he melted into the deeper shadows of the jeep.

  There was an increase in the sounds of conversation down the hall as a door was opened and left ajar, the hollow click of boots on concrete getting closer and passing him by as the man went outside to join the others. Fador watched until the man was out of sight before releasing a breath he hadn’t even known he was holding.

  What now? He looked beyond the open down and the stark light it created in the hall, to the last door he could check.

  That’s it. If this doesn’t pan out…. He decided not to follow that trail of thought and instead dashed down the hall, speeding up as he crossed in front of the door and praying no one would notice. He stood on his hind legs again and checked the door, this one opening easily to reveal the mess hall, thankfully empty at this hour.

  No ammo in here, but… where there’s food, there has to be a way to cook it!

  Fador moved past the tables and chairs to the back of the room. Leaping onto the tray slide, he walked through into the kitchen itself. A row of stoves lay on his left.

  Jackpot! I’ll need my hands for this.

  He took one more cautionary look around before jumping to the floor and changing into a man, walking over to the burners.

  “Fuck!” He ducked and froze, hoping no one heard his outburst and cursing himself for being so stupid. Of course they’re electric. There goes the damned explosion. I guess a fire will have to do.

  When no one seemed to have noticed the noise he had made, he looked around for something he could burn. A smile crossed his face when he found a large carton full of paper towel rolls. He put it on top of the nearest burner and turned it on high, watching with satisfaction as it started to smoke.

  What else? He crossed over to the walk-in freezer and found several cases of alcohol. Fador opened two bottles and poured them on the napkins, watching as flames leaped high into the air. The fire grew into a blaze and he smashed several bottles on the floor and against the walls, enabling the easy spread of the fire. Within minutes the ceiling had caught fire, as well, and the whole kitchen became an inferno. He walked out the door into the mess hall and ran over to the nearest window, opening it and leaping out into the night.

  * * * *

  It was the cold that woke her, but it took Erica several moments to realiz
e what was wrong. She had already grown used to sleeping between the two men and with neither beside her, the cold drew her out of a dead sleep.

  “What time is it?” Not that it matters here, really. When no one answered, she sat up and looked around in the gloom. It seemed far too early for either man to be stirring, especially as tired as they had both claimed to be earlier when they dragged her to the ground and demanded she go to sleep so they could. The sudden realization that she had been duped had her on her feet before the thought could fully form in her mind.

  Those assholes! The escape plan— it must be tonight! Which could only mean one thing. They had left her here and gone into a dangerous situation, leaving her here all alone.

  What happens if they don’t come back? A chill that had nothing to do with the cold night air of the island ran down her spine, leaving her frozen in place. What bothered her more, being abandoned here, surrounded by murderers… or the alternative?

  A scream rang out, cutting through the night and severing her paralysis.

  “Michael! Fador! Oh, please God, no!”

  Erica ran through the forest toward the beach, ignoring the tree limbs that slapped stinging welts across her face and arms.

  Please let them be all right!

  She ran out the edge of the tree-line and nearly fell when her feet hit loose sand. Somehow, she kept her feet and ran off to her right, toward the source of the scream. The moon shone eerily over the surf and the sand, mercifully casting shadows around the many stones in her path. She fought panic as the screaming ended as suddenly as it had started.

  Michael….

  Erica’s heart caught in her throat and her lungs threatened to burst with the effort as she ran down the beach, leaping over the smaller of the rocks and dashing around the ones she knew she couldn’t have cleared. Indistinct voices came to her now, voices raised in anger, occasionally yelling out.

  Fador….

  The night had become a nightmarish blur as tears came unbidden to her eyes. They were in terrible danger.

  If they’re even still alive. Erica ran from the thought, trying to outpace it and the fear she felt suffocating her. She had just spotted a group of men in a circle around something or someone, fighting and shouting, when she suddenly found herself on the ground under a heavy weight.

  “Michael?” The elation she had felt growing inside her was dashed away, turning to horror as she realized the man on top of her was definitely not one of hers.

  “Get off me! Get off of me!”

  The man above her chuckled.

  “Oh, I’ll get off ya all right, bitch.”

  Erica caught a flash of silver in the moonlight as he raised a knife to her throat.

  Chapter Ten

  Her eyes were attracted to a black blur that sprang from the group of fighters, now cut down to less than half the number there had been, and plowed into the man on top of her. Erica heard a feral growl as she rolled free, finding her feet.

  One of the wolves from before? It seemed like a remarkable coincidence. She turned away as the wolf tore into the man’s throat, but she was still keenly aware of his gurgled last breath.

  He would have killed me. She felt anger for what the man had planned to do to her, and a vast relief that the wolf had attacked when it had. Standing as still as she could, she hoped he wouldn’t attack her, as well. There was no sign of Fador or Michael, but she sighed in relief when the wolf ran back into the fray, taking down another man as he did so.

  There was more than just moonlight now illuminating the scene before her and she saw now that the compound was on fire. The flames grew even as she watched, transfixed, momentarily forgetting the very real danger she was in.

  “Erica! The boat—”

  Fador’s call was cut short, but it was enough to set her into action. Erica spied the dock, off to her left, not far from where she stood. She ran toward the nearest boat, avoiding the thrashing, screaming men that had decreased in number again to only four. She glanced their way, but was unable to discern which, if any, were Fador or Michael. She had only just reached the dock when a gunshot split the night, followed by a heart-wrenching yelp. The blood froze in her veins and she turned in time to watch the magnificent black wolf fall to the ground. The man who had shot it stood aiming a gun at her now.

  “Fucking bitch! Burn the place down while we sleep, will ya? I’ll show you.”

  No way out. Her eyes were riveted to the barrel of the gun. Fear kept her glued to the spot. He killed it. That poor wolf… he killed it. It saved my life and the bastard—

  She found herself glaring hatefully into his cold black eyes, hating him with every fiber of her being. He came at her too fast for her to respond, grabbing and twisting her arm as he came around behind her. Erica felt cold steel against the back of her head.

  “See what you did, you fucking whore? Do you have any idea how many people you fucking murdered?”

  Oh God, Fador… where’s Michael? She hadn’t heard him, even when Fador called out to her. The four men continued to fight, and she could see now that the man being jumped was Fador. Michael would never have left him to fight alone like that.

  There’s no way out….

  She watched as Fador shoved the three men he was fighting out his way, bowling them over in his ferocity. He jumped over their prone bodies and ran toward her, his hair wild, rage and hatred burning in his eyes. He screamed at the man behind her to let her go.

  “Fador, no!”

  And then the steel was no longer at the back of her head, was resting on her shoulder instead. The world split apart and her hearing went out as a shot cracked the night. Fador crumpled to the ground over the top of the wolf. Hysteria consumed her and her heart stopped as she watched him fall lifelessly to the ground. Erica stared blankly at him, for what seemed an eternity, expecting at any moment that he would move, until a sound from behind her brought her back to the present. The man behind her was laughing.

  Fador… he murdered Fador. They murdered them both. They tried to save me and the bastards murdered them…

  A rage unlike any she had ever felt was growing inside her, suffocating her in a black hatred for the man behind her.

  Murderer. Sorry fucking bastard—

  The world grew brighter, more crisp, even as the color seemed to leak out of it. She heard the beating of the black heart of the man behind her, the labored breathing of the other three men who were even then recovering and standing. Sharp pain twisted through her body and she fell forward out of his grasp, turning toward him as she fell down to her hands and knees. His face was a frozen mask of sheer terror, eyes bulging, and his mouth worked in a silent scream. She turned all of her hatred on him, wishing with all her heart that she could tear him apart with her bare hands.

  A growl rose in her throat and she jumped to her feet, slapping him across the face with all the force in her body. Blood splattered across her own face as she did and the man, finally recovering his speech, howled in agony and fear as part of his face was split apart. The gun slipped from his hands and he fell backward, screaming madly, struggling to his feet and running away. A pained cry from behind stopped her intended pursuit. She fell again to her hands and knees when she tried to turn.

  What the fuck?

  Her gaze fell on Fador, who was now standing, clutching at his stomach, shock written across his face. The other three men had apparently run away when her attacker did.

  Fador!

  Her voice couldn’t get past the lump in her throat, but she ran to him anyway, jumping into his arms. His expression was pained and there was something else there, as well. Awe.

  “You’ve… changed.”

  He held her tightly against his chest several minutes before settling her back to the sand.

  “Erica you… you’re one of us?”

  What do you mean?

  It slowly started to register in her mind that something was terribly wrong with her. Something had changed. When she looked down at her arms, s
he found them replaced with two white, fur covered legs. The legs of a wolf. Her mind went numb with shock.

  Oh my God This… this can’t be happening—

  “Shh. Don’t panic. Go get in the boat. We can talk when we get to safety. I promise. We’ll explain everything.”

  Fador stooped over and carefully lifted the wounded black wolf, clutching it close to himself and walking toward the boat, his breath ragged. The stench of blood was thick in the air.

  Michael…? With a new wave of horror, she realized with a certainty that the wolf in Fador’s arms had to be Michael. The rage, the horror, the fear, all seemed to melt out of her and she found herself sitting, human again, looking after the retreating men and feeling completely drained.

  “Werewolves.”

  She could hardly deny what they were, as insane as it seemed, even knowing she was now one of them.

  “Come on! We don’t have much time. They’re likely to regroup any minute now. We have to get the hell off this island.”

  Erica got to her feet, obediently following behind Fador, terrified by the stillness of Michael’s prone body in his arms.

  * * * *

  “Tell me everything.”

  The sky was lightening now, the rose colored fingers of dawn stretching across the wide open ocean sky. Michael, human once more, lay across her lap on the blanket she had brought up on deck from the cabin below. His breathing was smooth and deep now, not labored as it had originally been. Erica smoothed the raven black hair on his forehead, running her fingers through it.

  Fador stood behind the captain’s wheel and looked out to sea. He no longer clutched at his stomach, but stood straight. His expression, when she turned toward him to see it, was unreadable to her. Michael stirred in his sleep, but lay still when she went back to stroking his head.

  “We were cursed centuries ago.”