The Hybrid Series | Book 4 | Damned

by Stead, Nick

  “A pack of ghouls,” Will answered for me.

  “Ugh, ghouls. They stink worse than you do. What’s a whole pack of them doing out here?”

  Despite his questions, his suspicions looked to be abating and both men seemed comfortable in our presence. I let myself relax again.

  “I take it you know about the demon that’s been on the loose? That thing brought all the other monsters crawling out of the woodwork.”

  “Who doesn’t?” the other man said. “It’s all anyone’s talking about right now. I’d say it’s a good thing the werewolf got to David before we did. Makes my blood run cold thinking about what they might have done to him after he went against Roth’s orders and everything. They’d probably have handed him over to the nerds in lab coats as punishment for summoning the demon up here and letting it escape into the world, not to mention the other prisoners he had. And we all know how the last poor bastard they turned into a guinea pig ended up.”

  My ears pricked at hearing the unusual name again. Roth. Her surname perhaps? She had to be a high-ranking Slayer to have been mentioned both by Will in the brief conversation with Josh, and now again by these men in a completely different area. Could she be one of their overall leaders?

  “It wasn’t a total loss,” Will said. “The knocker is a valuable prisoner, and I’m sure the scientists are thrilled with their new toy.”

  “Oh yeah,” the first man answered. “A spirit trapped in human form is like a wet dream to them or something. I heard they’re practically falling over themselves just to get a look at the guy. Don’t really know what the fuss is about myself. It’s not like he’s much to look at.”

  “How would you know?” The second man started to laugh. “It was our night off when they brought him in and you’ve been posted out here with me the whole time since.”

  “I went down for a look at him.”

  “You expect me to believe you managed to tear yourself away from all that porn stashed in your room, long enough to go down to the cage they built for him and have a peek inside?”

  “Yeah. And I wished I hadn’t bothered, I mean he’s not all that impressive. Just looks like some skinny guy down on his luck, bit like the werewolf really. I hear he’s not much to look at as a human either.”

  Well, there was my proof Gwyn was inside. Now we just had to free him.

  “I hear he’s got a tiny dick. Probably why he keeps killing so many people, to compensate for it,” the second man sniggered.

  My anger reared up and I couldn’t quite keep the growl from rumbling through my throat. Memories of the playground bullies I’d had to suffer as a human started to play in my mind again, the darkness I now resided in as much their doing as the curse’s. For years I’d been taunted and ridiculed and made to feel like nothing, like I was below them all with no thoughts or feelings, or at least none that mattered. Made to feel like less than the lowliest of lifeforms. Well no more. I’d done my time in that particular circle of Hell. I’d done my years of suffering at their hands, wallowing in anger and misery even before falling into the pit of depression opened up by my lycanthropy. Never again.

  Will laughed, though it never quite reached his eyes. He threw a warning arm round my shoulder. To the men it would have looked nothing more than an innocent display of affection between comrades, but I knew what he was really saying was ‘back off before you get us both killed’.

  “Are you all right, mate?” the first man asked me. I don’t know if he heard my growl or if something about my body language was off, but he looked a little worried. My darker side liked that. He should be worried. If he truly was a bully, then I would kill him. I’d give him a slow, painful death as payment for all the suffering he’d caused others. And I would enjoy it.

  “It’s been a long night,” Will answered for me again. “We just want to clean up and grab a bite to eat, then get some shuteye before we have to go back out there. We’ll see you guys later.”

  “Doesn’t he speak for himself?” the first man said, definitely aware something was off. It looked like I was going to get my wish – we were going to have to kill them.

  “Yeah, just tired,” I grunted, trying to sound human. My eyes were already flashing amber beneath the helmet, but it didn’t fit well and it had slipped down. When I shifted it back into position, they were their usual hazel once more.

  The man kept his gaze fixed on me, an intensity to it that felt like he was trying to see right through to my damaged soul. I grappled with the instinct to transform, tense again and ready for a fight. Our cover was about to be blown and the only way we were saving Gwyn from this place was through force now, I was sure.

  “Okay,” he nodded, gesturing for us to go through. “Take it easy for a bit and get some rest. Tiredness can get you killed in this business.”

  “Yeah,” Will agreed. “Thanks, guys.”

  I let him steer me inside, though I took longer to relax that time. The adrenaline was already pumping round my system, my body as eager for a fight as my mind was. It was hard to back down when every fibre of my being hungered for violence.

  The interior was much like the one in Wales. We were in a corridor with lots of office rooms, though these weren’t empty. The humans were everywhere, going through paperwork and popping in and out of each other’s offices for a quick chat, as if this were no different to any other organisation. None of them paid us any attention as we went by the rooms, and the only reaction from those we passed on the corridors was one of disgust at the smell of carnage, similar to the guard’s reaction on our way in.

  Will led me to another hidden trapdoor, except this one was inside one of the offices. There was nothing to distinguish the room itself from any of the others, two men and a woman sitting inside, apparently working. But I assumed their real job was to stand guard. They nodded at us, their faces expectant, waiting for something.

  “Death comes,” Will said.

  “In what guise?” the woman asked.

  “As wolf and bat, living corpse and hellish beings. Death comes.”

  “And how do we greet him?”

  “With blade and with bullet, and with the courage of the great warriors of old. For we are the Demon Slayers, sworn to defend humanity from the creatures of the night and avenge all those taken as prey. We stand against him and we kill his agents, or we die trying.”

  The three guards seemed satisfied. I realised that must be some kind of pass phrase they all learnt, used as added security for their most secret operations. Maybe it was a way of identifying one another as Slayers as well. Out in the real world, they wouldn’t know everyone on sight. It was a good method of determining if they were part of the same faction without having to ask any direct questions, if a little cheesy. I suspected it was a slightly modernised version of an ancient greeting they’d set up long ago, with the mention of bullets being an obvious addition from more recent years.

  “State your business,” the woman said.

  “We need to see the prisoners,” Will replied. “Specifically the knocker who calls himself Gwyn.”

  She frowned. “Why?”

  “Because no one wants that last damn werewolf dead more than me and he was with him in David’s dungeon before they all escaped. I want to question him. Maybe he can tell me something that will help us wipe out lycanthropy once and for all, and then I can sleep easier knowing no other poor bastard will meet the same fate as my brother.”

  “Okay,” she said, kneeling to pull up the section of floor concealing the passage into the underground part of the base. This one was disguised as one of those floor socket panels, except the door itself was obviously much bigger than the panel appeared to be.

  “Good luck,” one of the men said. “If you get any sense out of him it’ll be a miracle, because no one else has. But you can try.”

  Will didn’t answer. He climbed down and waited for me to follow, then it was on to whatever horrors awaited below.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  T
he Best Laid Plans…

  We reached the section used as a prison, with its purposefully built cages meant to contain all the supernatural strength and power of the various types of undead, like the one I’d been imprisoned in when I’d been caught by Aughtie. So far no one seemed to know Will, by sight at least, though presumably they’d have known him by reputation if he’d been asked for his name. But that was about to change.

  Of all the cages we passed, Gwyn’s was certainly the grandest. It had surely been built some time ago for another of his kind, or maybe just as a precaution in case they ever had need of it. Either way, it would have been useless for holding any of the other undead races, but for the Welsh spirit it looked to be escape proof.

  The first sign we’d found him was the glare of the bright light filtering through the door. Two more guards stood outside, both armed with semi-automatics, and there was a security panel like I’d seen before at the base in my hometown. Will walked confidently over to the door and lifted his hand to the panel, but before he could place it on the scanner one of the guards spoke up.

  “Your face looks familiar,” she said. “Have we met before?”

  “Probably,” he answered. “I’ve been with the Slayers for some years now. There’s a good chance you’ve seen me around.”

  “You’re that Will guy. The one they all call our best marksman. The one who’s put the most undead back in their graves, or so they say. David’s co-conspirator in that whole revenge scheme he devised.” Her eyes narrowed, her features twisting with hatred. “And now a traitor.”

  Will sighed and rolled his eyes upwards, his tone growing impatient. “I’ve already been through this with our leaders. The vampires had me under their spell – I had no choice when I turned on our soldiers. If you don’t believe me, go and ask them yourself.”

  The other guard raised his weapon. “If you were under a vampire’s spell, how do we know you’re not still under it?”

  “Because I killed the vampires,” I said. “His mind is his own again.”

  The woman raised her gun as well. “So you say. You could both be under their spell.”

  Will just looked at them. “We don’t have time for this. We’ve been sent to transfer the prisoner to another location. If you don’t believe us, give Armstrong a call.”

  “Armstrong?” the man said.

  “Is he not still leader of this base?”

  The man slid the safety off his gun. “He was, until a vampire got him last week.”

  The woman followed suit. “Surely someone sent to carry out something as important as moving a prisoner would know that by now. So why are you really here?”

  My heart quickened, pumping a fresh wave of adrenaline round my system. Will showed no such panic. The next lie came to him as effortlessly as ever. There was no hesitation, no thinking time. He just opened his mouth and the words came out as naturally as any other conversation.

  “Look, it’s been a long night fighting undead, as you can probably tell from all the gore staining our uniforms. We didn’t report to your new leader because we just want to take the prisoner and go, then we can get some rest. Roth should have been in contact by now to notify Armstrong’s replacement the transfer is taking place. Radio up there if you don’t believe me and I’m sure we can get all this sorted, even if I have to get Roth on the phone.”

  Again I was sure we were going to have to fight our way to Gwyn and back out, but once again the humans surprised me. They each slid their gun’s safety switches back into place and held their hands up in defeat.

  A flicker of fear passed through the woman’s eyes. “No need to trouble Roth, we know she’s a busy woman. I take it you have a vehicle for transferring him waiting outside, and a convoy to see you safely to wherever you’ve been ordered to take him?”

  “Of course. He’s to be taken in a van with a light fitted and several back-up torches to make sure he doesn’t slip away. They’re in position outside our other premises, so we’ll need to use the emergency passage.”

  “Okay, go get your prisoner. But we’re escorting you to your van. No arguments or he’s not going anywhere, and we’ll take our chances with Roth.” Brave words but again there was a flicker of fear in her eyes. Were the punishments for disobedience or failure really that harsh?

  “I’d expect nothing less,” Will answered, dipping his head to each of them in a kind of mini bow.

  The woman unlocked the door with her own handprint, her eyes on us as we went inside. I could feel her watching closely but resisted the urge to turn around, keeping my own eyes straight ahead and doing my best not to react to the sights awaiting within. She closed the door behind us, the click of the lock sounding ominously loud to my ears.

  There were six more guards stationed inside the room. I had to squint against the brightness, the Slayers no more than dark shapes in the intense white light assaulting my retinas. It took a few moments for my eyes to adjust as much as they were able, the rest of the base dingy in comparison to Gwyn’s cell. But the floodlights remained too strong for comfort and my vision remained limited through semi-closed lids.

  I could just about make out a large glass box suspended from the ceiling. Four of the guards were positioned along the walls surrounding it, and the other two stood directly in front. Gwyn was imprisoned inside, trapped in his human body and naked from the waist up. His feet were also bare. Numerous cuts glistened with bloody tears, still weeping for the loss of all those cells taken in the name of science.

  Needle marks were visible along his arms and there was a bullet wound gaping in his left bicep. A small square of raw flesh shone brightly, just above his trousers. I assumed they’d been taking samples of his blood and skin, and God knew what else. Yet in a way I was glad to see him like that. I was grateful he wasn’t one of the unlucky subjects to be left partially dissected on an operating table, alive and fully conscious.

  Lights had been set up in every corner of the room. They also shone directly above and below the glass cage, and the six Slayers on guard duty each had torches attached to their guns and helmets, plus they looked to have more torches in their belts. Clearly they weren’t taking any chances with the knocker. In the event of a power cut, they still had enough light sources to prevent him returning to his true spirit form. Gwyn was helpless in there.

  “We’re here for the prisoner,” Will said, walking up to the two men in front of Gwyn’s cell. I followed him, noting as we drew closer how the guards had been given sunglasses to protect their eyes from the brightness. “We’ve orders to transfer him to another facility.”

  “No one told us about a plan to move him,” one of the men answered. “How come we’re only hearing about this now?”

  Will shrugged. “Perhaps the disruption of Armstrong’s death meant a lapse in communication. I’ve already been through this with the guards outside. I can call Roth to confirm the order but you know how she doesn’t like to be bothered with such things, especially from those of us at the bottom of the ranks. You know as well as I, when she gives an order she expects it to be executed, without question.”

  “Is it just the two of you sent to transfer him?”

  “It is, but we have a convoy waiting to see him safely to his new cell. The guards stationed on the other side of this door have orders to escort us there. Four ought to be enough to prevent any attempts to escape, but by all means join us if you wish. The more lights we have on him the better.”

  “Yeah, we’ll join you. If he did somehow manage to escape it’s our necks on the line as much as yours.”

  Gwyn didn’t give any sign he was following the conversation. His back was slumped against the far wall of the cage, his head down as though he’d already given up on ever getting out of that place. I wanted to take my helmet off so he could see it was me, that I’d come back for him as I’d promised his shade in my dream. But I knew better.

  The man Will had been speaking with turned to a panel by the glass cell. I’d not noticed it at first
but it seemed to be the mechanism for opening and closing the cage. There looked to be a keypad for a code, along with another biological scanner. This one demanded both the man’s eye and his finger for confirmation of his identity, and only once it had scanned the two body parts did a section of the glass pane swing open.

  “On your feet,” the man ordered. Gwyn appeared not to notice.

  The sound of more Slayers moving in the corridor outside caught my attention. I couldn’t resist turning away to glance through the little window built into the door, though I couldn’t really see anything from where I stood. They sounded close but they hadn’t come by the Welsh spirit’s prison yet, and I wasn’t going to get a glimpse of anything unless they did. I faced forward again and watched as the guard climbed into the cell. Gwyn was still in the same position, giving no indication he was aware of what was going on around him.

  The man grabbed Gwyn by his arm and forced him to stand. All the fight looked to have left the knocker – he let himself be dragged to the edge of his cage, the guard handling him rougher than the situation called for. Gwyn was offering no resistance, and yet he was treated as though he were dragging his heels every step of the way. I hoped whatever Will had planned involved killing the bastards. They deserved to suffer for the torments they visited on all their undead prisoners, and I wanted to help mete out that justice.

  “He’s all yours,” the man said, giving Gwyn a final shove so he fell out of the cell. It wasn’t that high from the ground but he still went sprawling with a thud which made me wince.

  “Get up,” Will ordered him.

  Gwyn did look up then, mischief sliding back into his eyes. “Ah, a friendly face. So good to see you again, dear William.”

  “Get up,” Will growled, giving him a kick. I felt my eyes burning amber once more.

  “I trust you’ve come to sort my room upgrade?” Gwyn continued, still on the ground. His face lit up with a humour only he could see. “I’ll take the honeymoon suite.”