The Huntress (Lupus Moon Book One)

by Kevin Sorrell

  A gun cocked behind him. The beast whirled.

  Alex. Shades on even in the throes of night. Armed for war. She leveled her Remington Express at the lyca's chest. "Down boy."

  The monster lunged for her. Alex pulled the trigger. The force of the blast stopped the beast cold in its tracks. It yelped and dropped to a knee, clutching the wound as the silver buckshot spread death throughout it's body. He fell forward just as the scrappy lyca came flying over him and into Alex. The hit jarred the shotgun loose, but Alex rolled onto her back, using the lyca's momentum against it and monkey flipping him into the wall by the entrance. The damned thing barely hit the floor before it scampered back to his feet--

  Alex was already rising and extracting her P99s. She peppered the slimmer lyca, pausing to let him slump to his death. She immediately spun and fired off a few shots at Lucas, barely missing as he ducked out the hole he had created.

  An eerie pall fell over the bar. Alex walked over to Webster. He looked up at her. "You. Thank you, I..."

  Alex yanked his collar aside, then checked his arms and back. Deeming him clear, she moved to Peters and conducted the same search. She helped him to his feet, then turned and walked over to the slim lyca's shriveling remains to collect her shotgun. She moved for the door.

  "Hey!" Peters said. Alex paused. "Sorry about the whole arresting you thing."

  "Let's make it through the night before we worry about apologies," Alex replied before heading back into the night.

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  Two townsmen frantically backed away, firing round after round from their rifles in the middle of a downtown street--

  A sandy brown lyca, on all fours, dodged each of their shots as she bore down on them at full speed.

  One of the men drew a deep breath, aimed, and pulled the trigger. The shot struck the lyca's dead center between the eyes. The beast went down in a heap, rolling several feet from its own momentum before coming to a halt.

  "Yeah!" his friend cheered, high-fiving the shooter. They hooted and hollered in celebration. The shooter, smiling, turned to say something to the other. His face washed over in horror.

  The second man was jubilant--and completely oblivious to the fact that Lisa was rising behind him. They were just outside the county coroner's office...

  Inside the autopsy room, just past slabs containing the body of Baines and the remains of Wallace, Dr. Ackerman was wedged in a corner on the floor. He jumped at the first blood-curdling scream...

  ***

  "Yes, ma'am, Yes. Yes, we are aware that there are...werewolves...attacking the town. Yes. We have every available officer out there now, as well as several hunters and firefighters."

  Kristen walked into Ms. Molly's small office near the back of the police station with a fresh cup of coffee. She plopped herself in the seat across from her messy desk and listened as she finished her current call.

  "Right now, what you can do is just stay inside, lock your doors and windows, and hide in your basement if you have one, or the inner most room and remain quiet. This should all be over by morning. Okay? Okay, yes. Thanks for calling." She paused to make sure her monitor screen indicated the caller had hung up. She exhaled. Hard. "Never thought I'd be handling calls like this. Whole town is losing its shit. Excuse my language." Kristen shrugged, took a sip. "Are you supposed to be drinking that?"

  "It's just coffee," Kristen droned. "It's not illegal."

  "Should be. You shouldn't be allowed to touch the stuff until you're eighteen, when you can go to war and die for the country."

  Kristen cut her eyes at the woman and took another sip out of spite. There was a very good possibility she wouldn't make it to see eighteen. A cup of coffee should be the least of her worries at this point.

  Mrs. Molly was on yet another call when Kristen walked out into the main lobby of the police station. She headed to the coffee maker against a far wall, next to Chief Wallace's office, to make a fresh cup. She doubted she'd be able to sleep even without the additional caffeine, but she was not about to take any chances. She stopped halfway there. Officer Anderson was nowhere to be found. Even worse--

  The front door to the station was ajar. Kristen's mouth suddenly went dry; a lump caught in her throat. Caffeine was one way to make sure she'd stay up; adrenaline was another. She threw her eyes to Neiland's desk across the lobby. Her father's shotgun was laying amongst the clutter next to two boxes of silver-laden buckshot, right where she'd left it.

  Kristen admonished herself for not keeping the weapon and ammunition at her side, a mistake she vowed to not make again. She tossed her cup in the trash and started for the desk, but something moved in the doorway. She spun--

  Anderson smirked back at her. "Relax, little lady. I just stepped out for a sec. Thought I heard something."

  Kristen exhaled. "Sorry. When I saw the open door--"

  Something large dropped to the ground behind Anderson. A clawed hand exploded through his chest! Kristen shrieked! Anderson tried to speak; a gush of blood erupted from his throat and onto his uniform. He was lifted a couple feet in the air, then thrown aside, his corpse smashing so hard into the floor that it bounced while bones shattered inside. Travis raised his blood-soaked arm. He licked some of it off, savoring the flavor.

  Ms. Molly came running out the back, toting a revolver. "Baby, what is--?" She saw Travis at the door and approached him, swinging up the gun. "Get out of here, you dirty son of a bitch!" Mrs. Molly squeezed off a shot, but Travis stunned them both--leaping onto a wall and pouncing off of it onto Ms. Molly. She hit the floor hard; the pistol skittered away. Travis bit down into his victim's shoulder.

  "Ms. Molly!" Kristen screamed. She flailed, wanting to do something, but having no idea what. Her eyes shot to the dropped pistol, but it was too far away and she knew she couldn't get to it without being attacked herself.

  "Kristen!" Ms. Molly reached to her belt and pulled off the keys to the cells. She tossed them in the girl's direction. "Go!"

  Kristen faltered, but once she saw Travis rear back and tear Ms. Molly open with a single swipe, she dashed to the keys and picked them up, snatching Baines' shotgun from Neiland's desk before racing to the cell area.

  Ducking into a cell at the back of the room, Kristen slammed the door and locked it. Travis rumbled in, pausing to look at the destroyed cell from the night before. He turned to Kristen and made a beeline for her. She ran back against the brick wall as she slammed a fist into the bars.

  Kristen popped open the chamber of the shotgun to make sure it was loaded. It was--but with standard rounds. In her sulking after Neiland ordered her to stay behind, she had picked up special rounds from the gunsmith, but never loaded them into the gun. And in her haste to escape from Travis, she had left them on Neiland's desk. She'd have to do without them. Kristen snapped the gun closed and pumped a round into position. She pointed at Travis and fired--catching him in the right shoulder. The beast recoiled and howled in pain, but instead of leaving, he slammed bodily into the cell, wedging his large hands between two consecutive bars, knuckle-to-knuckle, and pulled against them. Metal creaked as the bars began to warp.

  Kristen's eyes bugged. She loaded another round and blasted Travis in the chest. Followed by another. The lyca stumbled back--his blood dribbling to the concrete. Kristen waited for Travis to fall, but to her horror, he fought through the pain and rose to his full height. He growled angrily, locking her in his yellowed eyes.

  Tears streamed from Kristen's eyes.

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  Neiland's unit raced down Crockett Street, passing by a three firefighters who were patrolling their sector. He was driving solo, having received a call from Dr. Ackerman, who was beside himself as he described what was happening outside his office. Neiland told him to stay down and stay quiet, and he was on his way. He left the two hunters behind to continue their patrol, and ran back to his his unit to make the cross town trip.

  Rounding onto Mavis Aevenue, where Dr. Ackerman's office was located, Neiland
saw something in the road ahead and brought the unit to a stop. He climbed out, gun drawn, and approached. He came upon the nude body of an overweight middle-aged woman with sandy brown hair, lying on her side--the lyca that had attacked the townsmen in the street. Neiland looked further up the road, spotting what appeared to be a massive roadkill. He walked over to the bloody mess to find the shredded, strewn remains of the townsmen themselves.

  A man's scream rang out. Neiland turned in the direction of the Dr. Ackerman's office--the glass door and front window had been shattered into the building.

  Metal clanged from the second room on the left as Neiland rushed in. The autopsy room. He raised his gun and moved quickly to the doorway--

  Whipping into it. Neiland gasped.

  Lisa had Dr. Ackerman pinned to a wall and was chewing through his ribcage. She noticed the fresh meat. Dropped the coroner's corpse and charged. Neiland pointed the Glock, but Lisa was faster, slapping a tray of tools in Neiland's direction. He stumbled back out of the room as sharp objects flew past his face--

  Falling into a desk in an office area across from the autopsy room. He dropped the gun over the edge. Neiland recovered just enough to see Lisa closing in. He rounded the desk, putting it between them, but Lisa swung a closed fist into the top of it, crushing the desk in half. She shoved the pieces aside and swiped for Neiland's heart--

  Neiland ducked back, feeling the wind as her claws narrowly missed filleting him, and snatched up a wooden chair. He swung it into the beast's ribs. Lisa staggered. Neiland spotted his fallen Glock and dove for it.

  Lisa spun to finish him off, but Neiland, on his back, fired three times, each one punching a hole in the lyca's chest. She bellowed as the silver rounds burned her from within; she felt the poisoned blood charging through her system. In desperation, she tore at her own chest, ripping away chunks of flesh, trying to get the bullets out of her body. Her actions slowed; she dropped to one knee. Lisa fell forward, smashing to the tile just a couple feet away from Neiland. He stared at her body, panting, as she began to revert and deteriorate. He slid out the Glock's clip, replaced the spent silver bullets with a few more from his coat pocket, and shoved the clip back in place.

  Getting to his feet, Neiland noticed something lying on the floor in the autopsy room. Dr. Ackerman's pistol. He scooped it up and shoved it in his pants pocket, casting a sorrowful glance at Ackerman's body. He then looked at the slabs, at the remains of Chief Wallace--and Baine's body.

  Neiland was standing in a room full of ghosts. He reached down to his waist, pulled a two-way radio from his belt. He figured a little check-in wouldn't hurt.

  "Neiland to base. This is Neiland to base. Over." He waited for a response. It never came. "Neiland to base. I repeat, Neiland to base. Over." Again, no answer. Worry crept its way in to his face.

  ***

  At the police station, Ms. Molly's radio stood on her desk in front of her computer monitor. It crackled to life as Neiland came through once more. "Neiland to base. Ms. Molly, you there? Hello? Kristen? Anderson? Somebody pick up! Over!"

  Out in the main lobby, Ms. Molly lay in pieces on the floor, the walls splattered with her blood and bits of her flesh. Anderson's broken body still lay near the entrance. Neiland could still be heard on the radio from the back, pleading for someone to respond...

  In the cell area, a trail a blood led to the back of the room, where a second damaged cell sat, it's door still locked shut. However, there was no body for Travis, no putrid, rotting husk marking the remains of a once-ferocious beast. But also, more curiously--

  There was no Kristen.

  THIRTY-NINE

  "Yeah, I'm on my way there now to check on them," Neiland said, cell to his ear as he rounded a corner in his unit. He normally tried to avoid such dangerous habits, but right now, he felt, was an understandable exception. "As soon as I know something, I'll meet back up with you guys. Okay."

  He slipped the phone back in his coat pocket and made another turn. Ahead, he saw that a circular barricade had been made in the middle of the intersection with a police cruiser and two pickup trucks. Peters and Webster, along with Mason, Crumbler, and another hunter, were in the center, their backs to Neiland, firing on a set of encroaching lycas.

  Neiland gripped his steering wheel. His mind raced. He had a new mission, but he couldn't very well just drive past and leave these men to their fate. Although Ms. Molly, Kristen and Anderson were his concern when he'd left Dr. Ackerman's, his sworn duty was to protect and serve--and these men were in the most immediate of danger. Neiland drove to the edge of the barricade and hopped out, extracting his Glock. He yelled out to the others to alert them of his presence, staying low as he slipped between the vehicles to join them.

  "Glad you made it!" Peters yelled. "We could really use the help!"

  Webster leaned over the hood of his cruiser with his shotgun--blasted one of the charging lycas, a male, in the knee. The creature yelped and staggered, but kept advancing.

  "What are you doing, Webber?" Neiland yelled. "Go for something lethal!"

  "Easy for you to say! You got silver!" he replied. Neiland popped up--planted a round in the crippled lyca's neck.

  "How are you on those, anyway?" Peters asked. Neiland patted the outside of his coat pocket.

  "I've got a few more. Why?" He turned to his left. Two lycas were at the end of the road, stalking toward the barricade. On his right, three more approached, staying low on all fours. Two more crept toward them from the front, walking upright. Neiland grabbed his radio. "This is Detective Nieland. We're pinned down at the intersection of Bradford and Holly. I repeat, the intersection of Bradform and Holly. If anyone can spare themselves, we really need the backup," he said, eying the trio closing in from the right. "A lot of it."

  The trio rushed the barricade. Nieland swung his Glock and cut one of the beasts down with a shot to the head. He picked another off, striking her in the shoulder. The third lyca slipped behind a car, dodging a lethal round.

  Peters and the hunter burned several shots to take down a male lyca coming in from the front, the beast finally dropping after taking six shots to the chest and shoulder. They turned their attention to the other; their gunfire drove him into an alley.

  Peters took the opportunity to reload his shotgun. "Getting low over here! I don't know how much longer we can last!" In his haste, Peters dropped three of his shells. They scattered. "Fuck!" he grumbled, scrambling to collect them.

  "This is Neiland! If anyone is hearing this, please answer!" Neiland barked into the radio. He glanced up; the lyca he'd shot in the shoulder was fighting through the pain. She pressed up to her feet and stumbled for the blockade. Neiland stood her up with a blast to the chest, finished her off with another. The third lyca poked his head from behind the car. Neiland turned his gun on him and pulled the trigger. Click! "Fuck!" He dropped the radio and shoved a hand into his coat pocket, fumbling for replacement bullets. The lyca made a break for it--

  Mason spun and blasted him in the throat, dropping him.

  "Thanks!" Neiland shouted back to him. Mason only nodded, turned and knocked down one of the lycas racing in from the left.

  "I've got more ammo in my unit, but it ain't silver!" Webster called out.

  "Better than nothing!" was Neiland's reply. Webber moved for his car--

  Carly watched from the corner of a three-story building overlooking the intersection. From her vantage point, she spotted another lyca, creeping toward the blockade from the back. She snarled in anticipation...

  The hunter's rifle ran dry while trying to keep the lyca in the alley pinned. He ducked behind the bed of his pickup and cracked oped the gun, jamming in fresh rounds. He snapped it closed, slid the bolt the load one into the chamber and stood, swinging the rifle back into action just as the truck's bed lurched downward with a heavy weight--

  The alley lyca severed an arm with a single swipe, ripping the man's neck and face open with another. Mason and Crumbler combined to nail the beast with sh
otgun blasts to the chest and face. It stumbled back and over the edge of the truck bed, thudding hard to the pavement.

  The lyca who had been sneaking up on the men leapt onto the police unit behind them, ready to strike. Webster and Peters unloaded on the beast, knocking it off.

  Carly landed in the middle of the barricade, knocking Mason, Neiland, and Crumbler to the ground. She slashed Webster across the gut and sliced open Peters' chest, dropping both men. She turned to Neiland, lying on her back. He cut his eyes to his gun, three feet away on the pavement. Carly lunged--

  BLAM! She staggered, a huge hole ripped into the center of her chest, surrounded by numerous smaller ones. Thick, black blood began to seep out of all of them. BLAM! Carly's right shoulder exploded. She stumbled back and fell into the side of one of the units, slumping to the ground. His chest heaving with adrenaline, Neiland climbed to his feet, peeked over the hood of the pickup he had fallen by to lay his eyes on his savior--

  Kristen. Backpack slung over her shoulder. Clutching Baines' shotgun.

  "Kristen!" She ran to the barricade, wedged herself between the vehicles. Neiland welcomed her with a huge hug. "I didn't hear anything from the station! I thought you were--"

  "Everyone else is," she replied. "One of them got in, but I drove him off." She looked around. "He's probably still out here somewhere."

  The realization of Kristen's words sank in. Neiland's head dipped. Ms. Molly, Anderson...

  Mason and Crumbler got to their feet as Kristen walked over to her kill, casting an uneasy glance at the bodies of Peters and Webster. Her expression changed when she observed Carly's shriveled, oozing remains. Kristen smirked. Her eyes burned with satisfaction.