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

by Amy Cross

  Eventually I see that some of the wolves have stopped in a small clearing. I stop with them, and I'm relieved to see Duncan and Darla are still with us. There's the sound of shouting from nearby, as humans try to follow us. There were fifty or sixty wolves when we left the cave, now there are maybe twenty. Some scattered in other directions, but I'm sure I saw at least ten being shot down. The bullets won't have killed them, but the humans will have taken their stunned bodies and vaporised them. Permanent, final death. No return.

  We all go to the side of a set of rocks, hoping to find somewhere to rest for a moment, but it's useless. Wherever we run, there'll be humans. We're just putting off the inevitable. We can run, but the humans have missiles and heat-seeking devices and vaporisers. It's hard to see how we can compete with that kind of power.

  Around me, Duncan, Darla and some of the others shift into their human forms for a moment. I stay as a wolf.

  "It'll take them a moment to vaporise the wolves they shot," says Duncan. "But they'll be on our trail soon enough. And they've got infra-red and heat-sensors, they can track us whatever we do. Even if we go underground, they've got sonar".

  "We have to get to the old hall," says Robin from behind me. "It's the only place where we can make a stand".

  "What kind of stand can we make?" a voice asks from behind me. "There are so many humans, they'll just keep piling in until they've got us".

  "It's better than nothing," says a voice near me with a strong Scottish accent.

  "They killed children," says Darla, her eyes dark. "Just like before. They're killing everything that moves".

  "Don't get angry," Duncan says to her. "Anger clouds your judgement, makes you fuck things up. Stay calm. We'll go to the old hall, and we'll come up with a plan".

  "Your famous plan, eh, darling?" Darla says. "Forgive me, Duncan, but time's run out on your plan. I don't think -"

  There's a sudden scream of pain from nearby. We head to the side of the rocks and look over to see that two human soldiers have cornered a wolf cub. Just a child, the creature is yelping in pain, having been shot in the leg. The humans are trying to gather it up, to vaporise it, but they're taking their time. It's almost as if they're playing with it, torturing it so that its pain lasts longer.

  "We have to do something," I say.

  "No," says Duncan. "We can't".

  "He's right," says Robin. "We have to go. We can't risk the whole pack to save just one cub".

  There's a moment of pause.

  "We have to go!" Robin hisses.

  Slowly the wolves start moving on, but the sound of the injured cub being carried away by the humans is horrific. It's screaming and whimpering, and the humans are kicking it so hard it's difficult to believe a normal wolf would have survived. But the other werewolves, broken down and battle-hardened, don't do anything to help the cub, and soon, there's just me, Duncan and Darla watching, the others having all headed off to temporary safety.

  "It's happening all over again," says Darla, watching with tears in her eyes as the cub is dragged away.

  "There's nothing we can do for that cub," says Duncan. "Remember what I said. Emotion will just make you angry, and anger will get you killed". He waits for a rely. "Darla, are you listening to me".

  "Sure," she says, somewhat reluctantly.

  "Come on, then," Duncan says.

  We turn to leave, but then Darla turns back. "There's something we can do," she says. She smiles at me. "Make sure he comes up with a plan," she says.

  I stare at her. "What do you mean?"

  She laughs. "See you around, darling!" And with that, she switches to her wolf form and runs out into the forest, heading straight for the soldiers. They look up, but not in time, and Darla leaps straight onto one of them, ripping his neck apart. Blood sprays across the forest floor as the injured soldier clutches his gashed neck, but he quickly falls still. Before the other soldier can react, Darla turns to him and does the same thing, this time biting even deeper and ripping his entire head from his body. As she finishes them both off, the cub runs over towards Duncan and me and then hurries after the others. It's limping and injured, but it'll heal. The important thing is that it's alive, at least for now. Darla saved it.

  I look over at Darla. She has blood all over her face from the two humans. She looks shocked to be still alive. She turns to run back to us, but as she does so there's a crack of gunfire and she drops to the ground. She tries to get up, but there's more gunfire and she collapses.

  Instinctively, I leap forward to go and help her, but Duncan holds me back, putting his hand over my mouth to make sure that I don't cry out. I struggle, but he's holding me so firm, I have no chance to get away from him. That doesn't stop me, though, and I try to kick him away. Still, he holds me tightly, absorbing all my kicks and attempts to get free.

  As I watch, Darla shifts into her human form. She has three or four bullet wounds and although she tries to get to her feet, she can't. Even in her human form, she looks like a wounded animal as she scrambles about in the dirt, desperately trying to get up and get away. Three human soldiers run over to her and grab her, and a small armoured van races over to them, pulling up with screeching tyres.

  I struggle to get free from Duncan's grip, but he refuses to let me go. "You can't help her!" he hisses. "Do you really think she wants us to lay down our lives just for some pointless sacrifice? Don't throw your own life away".

  The back doors of the van are opened and the sound of a machine starts up. It sounds horrific, like some kind of set of huge blades. Darla fights back against the soldiers as they drag her towards the van. She shifts back and forth from human to wolf, and eventually she almost manages to get free. She bites the face of one of the soldiers, ripping away a huge chunk of flesh. He falls back, blood pouring from his head, but the other two are strong enough and they throw Darla into the back of the van. She lets out a brief scream, and then there's a horrific grinding sound, and blood flows out of the van and down onto the forest floor.

  I struggle even harder to get free from Duncan. There's still time. If I can -

  "Clear!" shouts one of the soldiers, to make sure that the others aren't touching the back of the van. He then hits a button and there's a flash of blue light from inside the van.

  Duncan holds me tight, but I've already stopped struggling. I know it's too late now. I've just watched my friend, perhaps my best friend, being killed. They ground her up like meat, and then they vaporised the remains. Werewolves can survive a lot, but there are some things that mean death. Permanent death.

  "I'm sorry," says Duncan, whispering in my ear so that the soldiers don't hear us. "I'm so sorry".

  I struggle against him, still determined to go and try to do something. Tears stream down my face, but there's nothing I can do. Not now. I watch as the humans quickly shut the back of the van. To them, Darla was just another werewolf, just one of the many they've killed today. They help the injured soldier, who seems to be missing half his face but is able to stagger to the van. In the distance, a dozen more soldiers run towards the scene.

  "We got one of them!" a soldier shouts. "Female".

  "We have to go," says Duncan.

  I shake my head, unable to believe that Darla's really dead.

  "We have to go!" he insists.

  I struggle to get free. I have to go and kill those soldiers. I have to make them pay for killing Darla.

  "We'll get them," Duncan says, as if he can read my mind. "But not now. Right now would just be suicide. Please, Jess. Don't let anger get you killed. Not like Darla".

  I stop struggling. Beyond my anger and despair at Darla's death, I know that he's right. Duncan lets go of me and switches to his wolf form, then we turn and run. After a while, I spot the injured cub, still struggling along. Without hesitating, I stop, reach down and pick him up in my mouth, then I run after Duncan again. There's no time to mourn Darla right now, no time to stop and wonder what went through her mind as she was ground up and her remains were vap
orised. I just have to keep running, at least for now. Part of me wants to just keep running forever, to never stop, to run across the entire planet if I have to, and to never, ever think about the things that have happened today. But I don't have that option and soon, it'll be time to fight. It's crushingly inevitable that the humans are going to move in for the final push soon. Wherever we choose to make our final stand, we're going to have to fight. Even if we have no chance of winning.

  4.

  "One hour ago," said Withers, studying the latest data on his laptop, "there were sixty-three werewolves reported alive on the estate. Now that number is down to... thirty-five. At this rate, the entire werewolf species will be completely wiped out by sundown".

  Chaucer nodded. "It's a shame we have to vaporise them," he says. "In a way, I'd much prefer to recycle them. Perhaps use their fur to make coats, their skins to make shoes. Like the animals that they are. But we can't risk that, can we? Wouldn't want your shoes to suddenly come back to life while you're strolling down Five Mile Road, would you?" He laughed at his own joke.

  Withers looked at the rest of the data. "We're ahead of schedule," he said. "We expected to have wiped out the werewolves by sunrise tomorrow, but it's looking like we'll have it done by sundown today. That's around twelve hours faster than we planned".

  Chaucer smiled. "I don't think anyone could ask for more than that, now could they?" he said. "Total extermination of the species, in time for dinner".

  Withers' radio crackled to life. He listened to a message for a moment. "Understood," he said, putting the radio down and turning to Chaucer. "Captain Lucas has arrived at the perimeter," he said. "I'll send an armed guard to meet him".

  "No," said Chaucer. "No, don't do that. He'll be quite safe, and it will show him the extent of our good work that we no longer need to provide a guard in this area".

  "Are you sure, Sir?" Withers asked.

  "Quite sure," Chaucer replied. The thought of Captain Lucas being sent to 'help' still irked him, and he was determined to show that he had the whole situation completely under control. "If GCHQ insist on sending their man up, let's at least give him a show to enjoy. Let him make his way to us without seeing a single werewolf. They're all trapped now, anyway".

  Withers nodded. "As you wish, Sir," he said. He paused, not sure whether he should mention the next issue. "Sir, there was some discussion about whether it's entirely wise to kill all the werewolves".

  "What do you mean?" Chaucer asked.

  "Well, Sir, for scientific purposes," Withers continued. "Would it not perhaps be worth considering the possibility that we could keep one of the creatures alive for tests? We could learn something from them".

  Chaucer thought about the idea for a moment. "Keep a werewolf alive?" he asked incredulously. "There's no need for that. We've studied them before. We know how they work. Keeping one alive would just be tempting fate. And besides, wouldn't it be cruel? To keep one in a cage, to let it know that it's the last of its species?"

  "Yes, Sir," said Withers. "I suppose that would be cruel. Better just to kill them all".

  "Exactly," said Chaucer. He grabbed the data from Withers' hands and look through it impatiently. If he was being honest, he'd have to admit that a lot of it was too complex for him to really understand. But honesty was never Chaucer's strength. "Leave me alone for five minutes, eh Withers?"

  Knowing better than to argue, Withers got to his feet and headed to the door. He'd got used to Chaucer requesting regular time alone, and he didn't question it, not publicly at least. He kept his eye on Chaucer, though, because he felt the man was unstable. Withers had almost gone to his superiors to talk about his concerns on several occasions, but had always held back, had always

  Chaucer waited until he was sure he was alone, and then he pulled a small box from his pocket. Opening the lid, he pulled out a syringe, already loaded with a clear liquid. He held it up to the light and looked at it, unable to believe that such power and strength could look so innocuous. Then he rolled up the sleeve of his jacket and quickly injected himself, and then he put the box away.

  He stood and waited for the sensation to hit him. It only took a few seconds, and he was overwhelmed by a feeling of immense strength. Power was coursing through his veins, entering his heart. Changing him. Improving him. He smiled. He knew he was not ready yet, but he also knew that it was getting stronger and stronger inside him. It was growing. And when the time was right, he would show the world what he had become. And the world would be awed by him, and would respect him, and would know his name. And that - even more than the simple extermination of the werewolf species - would be what would give Chaucer his place in history.

  As the feeling subsided, Chaucer took a deep breath. He was so close to perfection. Just a few more hours to wait. Everything was coming together perfectly. Hell, he didn't even care about Captain Lucas any more. Bring him on. Let him witness this final victory. Chaucer was ready for anything, ready to deal with all his enemies at once. And he had the perfect activity to keep him busy during those last few hours. With a great sense of anticipation, he decided it was time to do what he had been waiting to do for so long, time to say the words that had haunted his dreams. It was time to give the final order for the complete destruction of the last werewolves.

  5.

  It's so quiet. You'd never believe there's a war on.

  We're in the Great Hall of the werewolves. It's the only building on the entire estate, but it's impressive. Great pillars rise towards a high ceiling, and the floor - though cracked a little - retains most of its marble. It looks like a once-grand place that has now fallen into ruin. I can fully believe that once, many years ago, this was a place where proud werewolves gathered to talk. Today, though, it's ruined and old. It's a place for the last werewolves to make their final stand.

  What's more, it's an obvious place for that final stand. The humans will know that we're here. It feels as if we came to this Great Hall not because we believed it would give us a chance to win or even to survive, but because we believed it would be a fitting place for the werewolf species to finally be destroyed. It's as if the species has collectively accepted its fate and has come here to ensure that if they have to die, they will at least die with dignity. Looking around at the faces of the others, I don't see hope in any of their eyes. I just see resignation and despair. They're waiting for the end.

  For the first time in all of this, I really feel that we're going to lose. We're going to die.

  It doesn't help that Duncan has run off somewhere. He said he had to check something about the perimeter, so now I don't even have him available to help me, to talk to. And Darla's gone too. I feel as if the shock of everything is still with me, and will probably be with me until I die. I guess I won't get a chance to mourn Darla properly. There'll be no grave to visit, no time for solitary reflection or memories. With the adrenalin still coursing through my body, I just have this empty awareness of loss. And I know that Darla probably couldn't do anything to help, even if she had survived. But it would have helped to have her here.

  "Cheer up," says a voice nearby. I turn to find a guy sitting cross-legged on the floor a short distance away. "You know what they say," he adds in a thick Scottish accent. "It's always darkest before the dawn".

  "You think we have a chance?" I ask.

  He shakes his head. "No, but I think empty cliches might help make us feel better". He gets to his feet and comes over to me. He has a kind face. "The name's Hamish," he says.

  "Jess," I reply, though it feels silly to be bothering with these pleasantries. Why waste time introducing ourselves and getting to know each other, if we're just going to die in a few minutes?

  "You're with Duncan," he says.

  "Yeah".

  "And you were with Darla".

  I nod. "Did you know her?"

  "Aye. Me and Darla used to hang out a while back. In America, mainly. Fun girl. We got caught up in some stuff. Other people's stuff mainly. Vampires and stuff lik
e that".

  "Seriously?" I ask. After all the werewolves I've met lately, and all the other creatures, the idea of a real vampire still kind of impresses me. "I'd like to meet a vampire".

  "Not sure you'd like to meet this vampire," Hamish says. "Nothing but trouble. Anyway, last I heard he's... indisposed at the moment".

  "You know any other vampires who might want to come and help us?" I ask.

  He shakes his head. "It's a bit late for calling in the cavalry," he says. "So how did you know Darla?"

  "I met her at a carnival," I say, smiling at how ridiculous it sounds.

  "A carnival?" he asks, surprised.

  "She was being kept in a cage and I helped her get out". I smile at the memory. It seems so long ago. Back then, I felt like I could do anything. Well, if I had Darla with me. We knocked Vigrous Grinde off his perch, defeated a Criad, shut down a building made out of a man, survived the Underworld, killed Thomas Lumic... I guess I was starting to believe that there was nothing we couldn't do. That we could survive anything.

  "Darla?" Hamish asks. "In a cage? Fucking hell, that must have been a sight".

  "She wasn't very happy about it," I say.

  "No fucking kidding," he replies.

  "She's dead now," I say.

  He nods. "Aye. I know". He sighs. "A lot of people are".