Tristan raised his head. Flashed a cordial smile. "You have me all wrong--Alex," he said, the smile morphing into a sneer. "I didn't want to be a rude host for when my guest of honor arrived. I'll be honest, though, I was really disappointed when I heard my neo didn't get the job done. But, hey, bright side, right? That means I get the honor of killing you myself."
Alex dropped her joking demeanor. She pulled out the second Walther.
"You wanna know what I despise most?" Tristan leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Greatness, blinded by self-hate. I smelled your mark the night you first attacked my family. I just didn't recognize it. Here you are, a member of an elite species, yet you're content lapping at the humans' feet like a common mutt. We both know they'd kill you in the blink of an eye if they knew what you really were.
Alex narrowed her eyes. He was telling the truth. Baines nearly killed her the first time they met, and the image of Kristen pulling his shotgun on her in Neiland's cabin was still fresh in her mind not twenty-four hours after it happened. Neiland himself had even refused her help in the face of impending disaster purely out of distrust.
"Join us." Tristan's words pulled Alex out of her own head. He stood, took a step down. "This all started as just a place for us to settle down, but it's become far more than that. It's a polotical statement. Hell, it's damn near a revolution. Together, we can rebuild what was lost and make this whole thing stronger than before. A place of our own. A colony." He took another step down toward Alex. "Think about it. No fear, no judgment--no need to suppress your basic instincts..." He touched town on the wooden floor--
Alex stared at him, her mind wavering. "But it's up to you. This is your last chance. Will you accept yourself--your true self, or will you continue to wear the mask? Do you accept freedom--or do you prefer slavery?
The words found purchase within the recesses of Alex's mind. She hadn't felt emancipation since that night at the campsite. She'd forgotten what it was like to run around without a care in the world, to be truly happy and carefree. What remained of her innocence was ripped away from her before its natural time, and she'd spent countless hours probing her own thoughts in an attempt to find the limit of what she'd do, inflict, or endure, just to get back a little taste of what was. A dalliance of whimsy. A spectre of joy. Alex smiled.
"I choose freedom..." Tristan smiled. Alex's expression soured. "...to blow your fucking head off." She raised the gin in her right hand.
CRACK! Alex crumbled to the floor. Roxy stood over her, wielding a two-by-four. She tossed the board aside.
"Stupid bitch." She bent over and collected the Walthers, tossing them to Tristan. He looked them over, appreciating the craftsmanship involved, then ejected the clips onto the floor. He crushed and twisted the empty handles with his bare, hands, rendering them useless before dropping them with two clunky thuds. Roxy extracted the Remington from Alex's coat and snapped it over her knee, dropping the pieces to either side of her victim.
Alex stirred. Roxy planted a stiletto in her spine. "Not so fast, sweetheart. Beauty takes time." She doffed her coat, surrendering to the power that had been building inside her all night. Alex cried out as the show on her back dug in. It groaned and split open as Roxy's mutating feet tore their way free. Alex managed to fire back her right hand and grasp the heel of the stiletto. She ripped it out from under Roxy while pressing herself up, throwing her off balance. Alex stumbled to her feet and turned to fight.
Roxy gnashed her growing fangs as she completed her transformation, her dress blowing apart as her body exploded into a mass of shredded muscle and red fur. It was sight Alex had heard explained to her, but it was her first time seeing it in person--and while every lyca carried a sense of awe in its sheer physicality, Roxy's appearance pushing things into the realm of the majestic.
But she was a lyca all the same. And it was kill or be killed. Roxy charged. Alex ducked her initial swipe and slipped behind her. She stomped out the back of her left knee; Roxy to staggered forward near a shelf spiked with burning candles. She turned to counter, only to be caught in the face by spinning heel kick that pushed her back into the shelf. She knocked it over.
The flames spread across the dry wood in a flash.
Alex drew her Bowie and moved in to attack, but Roxy recovered quicker than she'd expected. The beast uncorked a monstrous backhand that sent her flying across the mill--
Smashing through a multi-paned window into an office. Alex caromed off a wooden wall and crashed in a heap on the dust-laden floor.
The fire spread, consuming more of the mill as Roxy stalked toward the office. She forced her way through the doorless entry and crept over to Alex's prone figure. Roxy poked her with a paw. No response. Still curious, she rolled Alex over to find her bleeding from the head. She leaned closer, dropping to all fours. Closer still; her breath warming Alex's face.
Alex's eyes snapped open. She fired up her right fist--punching two silver spikes, wedged between her index, middle, and ring fingers into Roxy's jugular. The lyca yelped and stood straight, clawing at her neck as she floundered backward into the wall next to the doorway. She slid to the floor as toxic blood raced through her system.
Alex got to her feet. Smoke had begun to billow into the room, reducing visibility and making it harder to breath, but Alex was able to see Roxy wrap her thick fingers around the tips of the spikes and rip them out of her throat. She scrambled to her feet in a sloppy rage and lumbered forward. Alex grasped her right sleeve--clicked the trigger in the mechanism underneath. She threw out her right arm and the kunai sliced the air--
Right into Roxy's chest. The beast roared in agony.
Alex smirked, but the expression was soon erased. Roxy, refusing to die, clutched the base of the kunai and plucked it out of her. She threw the blade to the floor and stumbled clumsily at Alex, slashing for her face. Alex blocked with her right arm--
Sparks flew as Roxy's claws shredded her coat and scratched the metal frame of Alex's spring-loaded rig. Alex dropped back--
Drew her last two throwing knives from her bandoleer. She sent one slicing into Roxy's gut--the other into her left shoulder. Roxy stumbled back. A weak whine flowed from her throat as the cumulative effects of Alex's attacks took their toll. One of her arms drooped. She was on digitigrade spaghetti legs. Alex sealed the deal, knocking her on her back with a front thrust kick.
Alex hacked from the smoke, checked her right arm. The gauntlet was trashed; the frame mangled and cut, one severed metal band gouging into Alex's ripped and blood-dripping arm, which had sustained additional gashes thanks to Roxy's claws. The kunai and chain were still extended and draped across the floor. Alex had no choice...
She had to abandon her coat. Alex slipped the tips of her left index and middle fingers under the metal band that was stabbing her. The pressure applied to her skin made her grimace. Hooking the band, Alex pried the jagged edge out of her arm, uncorking a fresh trail of blood. She pulled the left half of the coat back and shucked it off her shoulder, sliding her arm out. She used her left hand to do the same for the right half, then, taking ginger breaths as she held the right cuff of the coat, pulled her torn right arm back through the destroyed gauntlet and out of the sleeve. She extracted her cell phone from an interior pocket and dropped the coat to the floor. She jammed the cell into one of her back pockets and took off the empty bandoleer. She dropped it alongside her coat.
Alex pulled up the back hem of her shirt. The action revealed her last line of defense. She rarely carried it on her, but in times like this, it could prove to be, literally, a life-saver. Her father's .357 Magnum, tucked snug into a black leather pancake holster and looped onto her belt in the four o'clock position. She drew the weapon. Popped open the chamber. Verified that it was loaded. Six shots. That's it.
Alex traversed the smoke and flames on the main floor, using her left hand as a makeshift surgical mask while the Magnum in her right lead the way. The fire had grown exponentially, compromising the already unsound st
ructure to an even greater degree. Even with the ability to call the fire department, the thought never crossed Alex's mind. Besides, they had far more deadly things to be worried about other than the destruction of a derelict old building in the hills.
Alex searched for any sign of Tristan as best she could, but the limited visibility afforded by the fire didn't allow her to see father than ten feet. She took another step. Paused. Sensed something. She turned--
Tristan lashed out and slapped the gun out of her hand. It sailed across the mill and smashed though a window. Tristan whipped the same arm back. Alex hit the planks.
"I've never understood people like you," Tristan growled, waiting until Alex pushed up the her hands and feet to punt her in the side. Alex raised off the floor a bit as she rolled and fell onto her back. "All the power in the world, but you wanna throw it all away on a fool's errand." Alex flipped back onto her stomach as Tristan approached. She forced herself to her feet, clutching her ribs as she dragged herself away through swirling embers and smoke.
Tristan maintained his leisurely pace. "We could've given you everything you ever needed. Love, power, respect..."
"You act as if I don't already have those things," Alex countered, briefly leaning against a support beam before she kept moving. Tristan kept his eyes locked on her.
"I don't think someone who goes around snuffing out her own kind has a lot of love in her life, that's for sure. And right now, you look anything but powerful. As for respect?" He stopped, glaring at Alex across the burning mill. "Burning down my home ain't exactly doing you no favors."
Alex took a step. Her boot kicked something that scraped against the floor--a single beam, burning at one end. "There's one thing I have that you don't," she said. "Something I've fought for years to keep, but you gave away years ago. My humanity."
Tristan chuckled. "Seriously overrated." He leapt at Alex--
She snatched up the beam and swung the fiery end for Tristan's head. He landed, snared the beam just under the burning portion, and wrenched it from her hand. He crushed Alex with a backhand to her jaw; she stumbled back into a blazing support beam. The flames seared the flesh on her left arm. Alex screamed in agony.
Tristan was on her in a second. He seized her by the neck and flung her across the mill. She slammed to the planks and rolled several feet. Her body came to rest in one of the pools of moonlight. Tristan looked around as the fire continued to consume his domain.
Alex stirred. She raised her head. Rasped. An eerie silence permeated behind the crackling of timbers. She pushed herself to her feet and swiped the flopsweat from her brow with her good arm. She coughed once more and turned her eyes to the moon's seductive face. Even in the unflattering light and despite the melanin in her skin, she was noticeably pale.
"You look sickly, Alex." She whirled at Tristan's voice. "You don't mind if I call you that, do you?" He was nowhere to be found, yet, somewhere in the flames, he laughed. Alex stumbled forward--
Her foot fell on the blade of the grounded Bowie. She reached down for it...
Something rushed past her back. Alex spun once more, peered as best she could through the shimmering heat. "I can smell the beast rising in you," Tristan continued. "Whatever you've been doing to repress it, it's failing. How long's it been? Months? Years? It doesn't matter, though."
Alex picked up the blade. She negotiated the flames. "I'm going to teach you a lesson. One you should've learned a long time ago," Tristan said. "No matter who you are, no matter how hard you fight, sooner or later..."
Tristan watched Alex from between a set of crates yet to be touched by the flames, hands at his sides. They spasmed, bones snapped. Fingernails split apart as thick, black claws tore their way out. His voice scraped down an octave. "...the beast always wins."
Alex paused, head cocked. A tremor worked its way through her body. As much as she hated to admit it, Tristan was right. She had taken a dose of her compound before she headed out for the night, but the cumulative exertion of a night of battle and the energy expended by her body to heal her wounds had caused her to burn through the dosage at an advanced rate. She looked down at her right arm; it had already begun to heal from Roxy's attack. Alex's heart pounded in her chest. She took a deep breath, followed by another. A third. If she could slow her heart rate, remain as calm as possible, she could prolong the effects of whatever compound was left in her system. She just needed it to last long enough to finish of Tristan and make it back to the Corvette.
You've got this, Alex. Just hold on.
Alex exhaled. She trained her ears, isolated a low, rumbling growl over the roar of the fire. She turned in it's direction. A figure shivered in the distance, shrouded by shadow. Alex marched toward it. She came within fifteen feet--
A section of the ceiling caved in and smashed to the floor behind her. Alex spun, distracted. She turned back for the figure.
It had vanished. Alex coughed and covered her mouth and nose. The hacking passed. Alex relaxed. Tensed one more. She spliced backward with the Bowie--
Tristan deflected her arm and snatched Alex by her throat. He hoisted her into the air and held her there. She pried against his grip as his features slipped amid shifting muscle and grinding bone.
"How about dinner?" he growled.
"Sorry," Alex gasped. "I already ate." She sliced Tristan's right arm with the knife. He howled--
Dropped Alex. She moved to attack him--a backhand hurtled her toward a burning wall--
Alex exploded through the mill and crashed to the ground. The Bowie came free as she tumbled several feet.
Tristan strolled out of the mill. The moonlight fell fully against his face and hands. The exposure accelerated his transformation.
Alex stirred as Tristan pushed toward her. He growled and grunted as he erupted from this clothing in fur and muscle. Alex crawled backward. She searched the grounds for anything she could use as a weapon. That's when she saw it--
The discarded Magnum.
Tristan rose to his full height and shucked the shredded remains of his shirt and coat. Hulking, covered in smoky fur and with needle-sharp claws perched at the tips of corded, flexing hands, he bore fangs at Alex that could crush bone. He fixed his prey in his yellow stare.
Alex scrambled for the gun, but with a single leap, Tristan cut her off. He ripped at her with his claws. She ducked as he plowed the earth between them. Alex rolled to her feet and launched into Tristan with a jumping front kick to the bottom of his jaw. Tristan's head snapped back a bit, but the blow only seemed to piss him off more. Alex moved in for another attack, but a spasm tore into her gut. She doubled over.
Tristan advanced. Alex refused the pain purchase in her brain and fired off a spinning heel kick, followed by a furious three-strike combo to the beast's gut. Tristan grinned. Lashed out--
Alex dodged, stumbled back and fell to the ground--mere feet from the knife. She scampered to the blade, picked it up and spun--
She spliced Tristan across the chest--slashed his right arm a second time--plunged the blade into his gut. Tristan yowled, flung his left arm out--
Alex crash landed several yards away.
The full moon continued to cast its sinister spell as Alex labored to all fours. Sweat dribbled from her brow; she grabbed her stomach.
"Not now," she groaned. Her pulse surged through her veins. Her heart pounded in her ears. She was burning through the compound way too fast, and the constant exposure to the moonlight didn't help. Alex glanced at Tristan, dropped to a knee. He extracted the knife from his gut, stained with his infected blood, and flung it away. Alex crawled for the Magnum.
She curled her fingers around the trigger and forced herself to her feet. She lumbered over to Tristan and raised the barrel. Their eyes locked. Alex's finger pulled against the trigger--
A convulsion ripped through her insides. She dropped the gun and spilled to the grass. Bent over on her knees, Alex tried in vain to right herself. She fought against the pain, but it was relentless. Her alt
ered, beleaguered physiology had consumed the last shred of the only thing that kept the beast inside her at bay--
And Alex was about to pay the ultimate price for years of its chemically-induced exile. She opened her mouth to scream, but only a ragged growl escaped her throat. She slammed her fist against the earth in frustration, opened her palm. Horror and rage flooded her consciousness as her hand pulsated, roiling like a boiling pot of water. It expanded, bursting several stitches on her glove. Bones and tendons cracked and popped as black claws erupted from her fingertips--
Alex watched through sickly yellow, pain-addled eyes. Another spasm snapped her head back. Unearthly grunts rumbled from within as her canines tore further through her gums, lengthening into fangs...
Tristan was enraptured by the transformation.
Alex rallied to her feet, defiant against the moon. Her spine CRACKED. She cried out--a nascent howl--and collapsed back to her knees. She doubled over. Knobby ridges pressed up along the center of her back as her spine rose, buttressed by thickening lat muscles. Her chest and breasts swelled. Her top strained as it became skin-tight.
Her heavy boots groaned from the pressure exerted from within. They burst apart as her toes and arches lurched longer. Her socks shredded; the cool, dry air kissed her soles. Alex's hips widened. Her thighs thickened. The seams of her pants ruptured in several areas from the strain.
Alex's ears shifted higher on her head. Their tops stretched into points. Coarse dark brown fur pierced her pores and blanketed her increasingly-lupine form.
Alex moaned, her voice heavy with pain--and more than a touch of sexual arousal. She hadn't forgotten about the augmented carnal lust that came with being a lyca--even in her human form, her sex drive was far more powerful than an average human--but it had been a long time since she felt this level of intensity. It clouded her mind as she looked up at Tristan. His thick claws. His powerful, muscle-swathed physique. His scent. So masculine. So...
The Huntress (Lupus Moon Book One) Page 17
