Lupine Howl: The Complete First Series (All 8 books)

by Amy Cross

  When I get out of the church, it takes me a moment to understand what I'm seeing and hearing. All around me, in the dark, there's the sound of some kind of struggle. Holding onto the baby, which is still crying, I try to understand where Duncan and Darla have got to. Finally I see them around the other side of the church. They're engaged in full-on battle, both of them in their wolf forms.

  I rush towards them. "Stop!" I shout, but they either can't hear me, or they refuse to hear me. They keep fighting, ripping chunk out of each other, fighting like beasts. It's a shocking sight, and one that I can hardly bear to watch. My two best friends, engaged in a fight to the death.

  Suddenly there's a scream, and the fighting stops. Duncan steps away, limping and panting, and I see that Darla is still on the ground, apparently unable to move.

  "What did you do?" I ask Duncan.

  He shifts into his human form. "I did what I had to do," he replies. "She was a danger to everyone. Humans and werewolves alike".

  "Is she -"

  "Dead?" Duncan asks. "No, she's not dead. She's unconscious, and she'll remain unconscious for a few more hours while her bones heal. Then, we have to decide what to do with her".

  "There's only once choice, isn't there?" I ask. "We have to take her to the estate in Scotland. It's the only safe place for werewolves, especially ones who are being hunted already". I look down as the child gurgles in my arms.

  It's clear that Duncan doesn't want to save Darla, or to take her to Scotland. To be honest, I feel as if his gut instinct is to simply kill her once and for all, and to avoid the inconvenience of trying to find a way ahead that would mean she could live.

  "She's my friend," I say. "She's not evil. You met her before. She saved me at the carnival, and without her I'd have died in the Underworld".

  He stares at me. He's clearly not convinced.

  "She killed Thomas Lumic," I say finally. "Or at least, she was the one who arranged for him to be killed, Doesn't that count for something?"

  Duncan takes a deep breath. It's rare that I feel that I've really got through to him, but this time it's as if he's actually listening to my point of view and is possibly wondering whether he should make changes to his plans.

  "Fine," he says eventually. "We'll take her to Scotland. But she's your responsibility. If she does anything wrong, it'll reflect badly on you. Is that understood?"

  I nod. "I'll look after her," I say. I look down at the baby. "And I'll get this baby back to its natural parents. I'll do everything. All you have to do is help me a little bit, and give me advice, and help me work out the best way to do things".

  Duncan stares at me for a moment. "Take the baby back to its home," he says finally. "That's the first job, the most important. The humans will be ready to launch propaganda based on this child's death. If you can take him back to his parents and show them that he's alive, the propaganda will be neutered. At least for now".

  I look down at the baby again. "Is he one of us now?" I ask.

  "A werewolf?" Duncan asks. "Yes, though it's unclear whether he'll ever fully develop his powers, and if he does, he might not necessarily ever realise what he is. It depends on a lot of different factors, he might just go through life feeling as if he doesn't fit in, but not really knowing the truth. But fundamentally he's a werewolf, and that marks him out as being different".

  I take a deep breath. It's time to take this baby back to its parents. And then we have to take Darla to the estate. She needs to be away from the humans, away from the violence, and she needs to be with other werewolves. Even then, I'm not sure if she's past the point of no return. But we have to try. And then we have to hope that our worst fears don't come true, that the humans don't attack.

  Duncan and I walk out of the church. I carry the baby, and Duncan carries Darla. We step past the body of the priest. As we get outside into the cold Scottish night, it feels like we're so far from civilization, we can never really go back. But we do have to go back, because there's one final job to complete. I look down at the baby. He's stopped crying. He's just looking up at me. I know it sounds crazy, but from the look in his eyes, it's almost as if he knows what has happened to him.

  12

  It's dark, but the lights are on in the house. I sneak in through the gate at the back of the garden, and I carefully make my way across the patio. From the house, there are sounds of talking and TV. This is a family still hoping against hope that their child will come back to them, that somehow the wolf will have left the baby somewhere to be found. They probably know that their hopes are doomed, that the chances of their child returning to them alive are almost nil. I'm sure they pretend to still have hope, that they pretend to still believe there'll be a miracle, but each of them - privately and alone, and in a way that they don't let the others see - believes that such a miracle can never happen.

  The baby squirms a little in my arms. I look down and in the moonlight I see his little face. He's sleeping. What kind of dreams is he having? Is he dreaming of his old life, of his mother and father leaning over his crib? Is he dreaming of the time he was kidnapped by a wolf? Perhaps he's dreaming of the time he was left to die in the corner of a church? Or perhaps he's dreaming of the moment that new life was breathed into him and... everything changed? Whatever, I'm sure he's having bright, vivid dreams, and I'm sure he'll have bright, vivid dreams for the rest of his life.

  I wonder if he'll ever realise what he truly is? With no-one to help him, to guide him, perhaps his powers will go undiscovered. Until one day he realises he can survive things that would kill any human. Then, perhaps, he'll look in the mirror and wonder what he is...

  I reach the back window, but find it locked. Same with the back door. I'd been hoping to slip the baby in and leave, but I guess I'll have to go to Plan B. I gently place the baby on the ground by the back door, then I lean down to take one last look at his face. He's still asleep. I hope he stays safe, even if... even if all the other werewolves die, I hope this child survives and is happy. I kiss him on the forehead, then I stand up, take a deep breath, knock loudly on the back door, and turn to run away.

  "Who are you?" asks a man, standing and staring at me by the gate at the bottom of the garden. He has supermarket bags in his hands.

  "I -" I start to say, but at that moment the man spots the baby on the doorstep. He drops the bags and rushes past me, scooping the baby up just as a woman comes to the door.

  "Where did you find him?" the man says, his eyes filled with tears of joy. He passes the child to the woman, who I guess must be the mother.

  Damn it, I wasn't prepared for anything like this. I pause for a moment, like a deer in the headlights. "I... I found him in a church," I say. "I... there was a wolf there. I chased it away, and then I found the baby and I realised it must be yours. I read about you in the newspapers, so I..." I take a deep breath. "I brought him back. I was just going to leave him on the step -"

  The man rushes forward and surprises me with a big, firm hug. "Thank you," he says. "Thank you, thank you, thank you".

  "It's okay," I say, hugging him back without too much enthusiasm. "Anyone would have done the same".

  The woman is crying. "We thought he was lost," she says. "We thought that wolf had taken him forever".

  I shake my head. "He's back with you now," I say.

  "And the wolf?" the man asks. "Did it get away?"

  I nod. "But I don't think it'll cause any more trouble. I think I scared it pretty good".

  "It'd better not come back here," says the man. "I'll fucking kill it".

  I sigh, but I realise I can't say what I'm really thinking, so I opt for something a little more diplomatic. "It's just a wolf," I say. "It's not a monster".

  "It took my child," the woman says. "It -"

  The man interrupts. "But it didn't kill him, did it?"

  I smile. "No," I say. "I guess things worked out in the end". I look at the child and see that it's awake. It's staring up at its mother.

  "Funny," the mother
says. "He always used to cry so much. Now he looks so calm and peaceful".

  The man goes to take a look. "I guess an experience like that changes you," he says. "I guess it'll have an impact".

  "Oh yeah," I say. "I'm sure it'll have an impact".

  "I need to check he's not injured," the woman says, rushing inside with the baby.

  "So," I say. "What's his name?"

  "Robert," says the man. "Robert Edgar Wallace".

  I nod. "Nice name," I say. "I should go".

  "Wait!" the man says. "Won't you come inside? We have tea and coffee, and food. Please, let us do something to thank you for bringing out child back to us".

  "It's not necessary," I say.

  "Please!" he says, insisting. "It's the least we can do".

  I look over at the window. It looks so warm and inviting in their house, so happy and contended, so comfortable, so... human. Truthfully, there's a part of me that would like nothing more than to go in there with them, to shut the door, and to forget about the wolves forever. To have a family, even for a few hours. It's so tempting.

  "Come on," the man says, obviously sensing that I'm considering it.

  "No," I say finally. "Thanks, but I have to get going. Really".

  I turn and walk towards the gate, then I stop for a moment and turn back to the man. "One more thing," I say. "If Robert grows up and... anything strange happens to him... or he seems different or special in any way, just... don't give him a hard time, okay? Just go with it".

  "Sure," says the man.

  "Thanks," I say, and I head out of the gate. I walk along the street for a moment, to where Duncan is waiting. He's holding Darla in his arms. She's still unconscious, still healing.

  Duncan and I look at each other for a moment. There's so much to say, but at the same time there's no obvious way to say it. Maybe that's one advantage that we have as wolves: we can sense so much about each other, but we don't have to put it into words. Unfortunately, we have to remain in our human forms for now, because we have to carry Darla all the way to the estate. It's going to take us a few days, but we'll get there in the end.

  God knows what we'll find when we arrive.

  Epilogue

  General Chaucer lay back, listened to the silence for a moment, then closed his eyes. Peace at last.

  "Sir!" shouted a voice, rushing into his tent.

  Chaucer opened his eyes. No peace.

  "Sir, the scout has returned from the estate. He has something urgent to report, sir".

  Chaucer sat up. He was still wearing his uniform, so it would be no trouble to receive visitors, no trouble at all. Still, he wasn't really in the mood.

  "Bring him in," Chaucer said wearily, hauling himself to his feet and stumbling over to his desk. He was so tired, so very tired, so desperately in need of sleep. But no-one around this damn place could make a decision without asking him first, so he was used to being interrupted every moment. Still, he looked forward very much to the day when he could retire. Perhaps after this campaign. Perhaps after defeating the werewolves...

  "General Chaucer, Sir!" said a new man, entering the tent. Chaucer turned to find that he was a young, good-looking man with jet black hair and a fashionable amount of stubble.

  "What?" Chaucer replied.

  "Corporal Withers, Sir," the man said. "I've just returned from an expedition to the edge of the estate, and half a kilometre inside the border. I encountered no werewolves at all, Sir. I strongly suspect that they are massing in the centre of the estate, preparing for our attack".

  Chaucer shrugged. "That's fine," he said. "Let them. It doesn't matter where they're standing when we kill them, does it?"

  "No, Sir," said Withers. He paused. "But..." He paused again, his voice hesitant. "Sir, there's something else. The baby, Sir. The child that was stolen by a wolf in Edinburgh".

  "The Wallace child," Chaucer said. "Have they found his body yet?"

  "They've found him, Sir," Withers said. "Alive. And well. With his family".

  Chaucer turned to Withers. Now this was surprising news. Chaucer had assumed that the child's body would be found somewhere, helping to fuel further fear and hatred of the wolves. Never in all his planning had it occurred to him that the child might be returned alive. This... He paused. What could be done now? How could the child be exploited so that it would be able to help in the battle against the creatures?

  "Is he okay?" Chaucer asked, trying to think of a way to use the situation to his own advantage.

  "He's absolutely fine, Sir," Withers said. "Not a scratch on him".

  Chaucer thought about this for a moment. "Have there been any more wolf attacks?"

  "They've completely stopped, Sir," said Withers.

  Chaucer took another moment to think. This wasn't part of the plan at all. He'd always assumed that the wolf in Edinburgh would keep killing. Then again, did it really matter? The people in the city were already stricken with panic, and that would probably last a few more days, especially if it was given a nudge. The fear in Edinburgh was too important to let it simply die away. Keeping the entire population terrified was useful and meant that the government could use ever more draconian measures to keep the werewolf population at bay. No-one questioned anything these days, so long as they thought the government was working to protect people.

  "Any random attacks," Chaucer said slowly, "anywhere in or near Edinburgh, whatever the circumstances, if there's a dead body and there's a possibility of pinning it on the wolf, do it".

  "Yes, Sir," said Withers.

  "Now get out," Chaucer said. "I'm tired. I have things to do before morning".

  After Withers had left the room, Chaucer went over to a small box on the table by his bed. He opened the box and took out a syringe, which he inserted into the end of a small bottle. He drew a dose of the clear liquid into the cylinder and held it up to the light. Although it was impossible to see anything in there, he knew exactly what this liquid contained. DNA, taken from a sample grown from werewolf-infected cancer. Recovered from the Franklin Blaum building, it had been examined, modified and grown. It was a potent weapon by now, even if its true effects had not yet been identified. It was experimental, but that didn't worry Chaucer too much. The effects would likely still be good. In fact, he was already feeling stronger than ever.

  Rolling his his sleeve, Chaucer plunged the needle into his arm and pushed down the plunger. The liquid was forced into his bloodstream and Chaucer closed his eyes. He felt like he could feel the DNA coursing through his veins, even if he knew this was probably just his imagination. What was clear, though, was that his body was slowly changing, slowly becoming stronger. The DNA would ordinarily not have much of an effect, but it was bound to the cancer from the Blaum building, so it was expect at mutating within Chaucer's own body. It was doing its job.

  Walking over to the mirror in the corner of the room, Chaucer looked at his own reflection. He looked particularly at his eyes. As he stared, he realised that the eyes staring back at him were no longer his own. It was a slow process, but it was working. He was changing day by day. Soon he would be ready to strike out the old werewolves. He'd tried before, but failed. This time he would succeed, though, because this time he would have the ultimate weapon: this time, he would be able to think just like them, because he would be one of them.

  Book 8:

  Defense of the Realm

  Prologue

  "It's over," said General Chaucer, surveying the burnt, ravaged land before him. Smoke rose slowly from where huge fires had recently raged. Tired, wounded soldiers traipsed across the barren horizon. The whole place was still and calm, but it was still smouldering from the horrific battle that had ended barely an hour earlier.

  Chaucer took a deep breath; the air smelled of petrol, blood, sweat, dirt and metal. And victory, of course. Always victory. After three days and nights of fierce fighting, the werewolf resistance had finally been put down. The last of the beasts had been cornered and slain. Checks and double-che
cks had confirmed that the entire Scottish estate was now empty. There was nowhere to hide. Deep-penetration sonar scans had confirmed that there were no hidden chambers, no hiding places that could have been overlooked. All the werewolves were dead. "All gone," Chaucer said, unable to hide the pleasure in his voice.

  "We lost a lot of our own men," said Captain Lucas, standing next to him. "I know you're pleased with the overall result, but don't forget that a lot of human soldiers died today".

  "Yes, but it was a worthy battle," Chaucer said, refusing to let Lucas ruin the mood. "Sacrifice is inevitable in such situations. Those men laid down their lives so that the rest of us could live, and so that the werewolf vermin could be destroyed once and for all. They gave their lives so that humanity could triumph".

  "Still," Lucas said. "We should not be too triumphant. Whatever you thought of the werewolves, the human soldiers had families, friends... Their lives, at least, had value".

  "Yes yes yes," said Chaucer impatiently. Was this Lucas fellow intentionally trying to bring down the mood? "There will always be casualties in war. Always. Those men knew that when they signed up".

  "True," Lucas said. "And what about the more... troublesome wolves?"

  "Dead," Chaucer said, turning to him. "Confirmed. The final group was led by Duncan, with his little girlfriends, but they were cornered this morning and put to death".

  "Are you sure they're dead?" Lucas asked.

  Chaucer smiled. "I myself saw them die. I saw their bodies ground up and vaporised. Believe me, I made doubly certain that there were no tricks this time".

  "But -" Lucas started to say.

  "I saw it," Chaucer said, becoming a little irritated. "With my own two eyes. Right in front of me. Duncan and his friends died, and there is no way back for them".

  "My impression of Duncan," said Lucas carefully, "is that he should never be under-estimated. I heard he -"

  "I saw him die!" Chaucer interrupted, raising his voice a little. He recovered his composure. "I saw him die," he said again. "I saw his eyes as he was ripped apart. I heard him scream. And I watched as his body was ground up and vaporised. There aren't many ways to permanently kill a werewolf, but it can be done and we did it today, Captain Lucas. Don't you worry about that".