The Hybrid Series | Book 4 | Damned

by Stead, Nick

  Only when it started falling into the hole did I begin to relax. The spell was still working. We were about to be freed from the terror we’d unwittingly unleashed on the Earth, at long last.

  I was just getting to my feet when the ship shook again, knocking me back down. It was more violent this time and I heard a creaking sound which could only be metal buckling under pressure. Another wave of fear washed over me as I expected to see the demon breaking free of the spell and renewing its attack. But if anything the vortex had widened, and Dhaer’s lower body was already in the mouth of it. The demon looked to be fighting a losing battle. So what was that force that had just shaken the ship?

  Those glowing red eyes met my own and the demon began to laugh. There was something incredibly ominous about that. It knew it was beaten and yet it had found something to laugh about. Then I realised what the creaking sound had been. The hull!

  I picked myself up a second time and ran for the cabin, but once inside it only confirmed my worst fears. The hull had been damaged, and we’d sprung a leak. Dhaer was going back to Hell, whether it wanted to or not, so it had struck one final blow. It was taking us down with it.

  CHAPTER THIRTY–ONE

  Shipwrecked

  Water was pouring from a hole in the engine room, filling up the entire area below deck at an alarming rate. I followed the sound to its source for a look at the damage. As far as I could see, there was only the one hole so far, but if Dhaer was able to keep on striking at us before the banishment was complete, that could soon change.

  “Is that what I think it is?” Gwyn shouted down from the wheelhouse.

  “Yeah, we’ve got a leak!” I yelled back.

  There came the sound of his footsteps on the stairs, down to the deck level and then down again to the lowest level where I’d begun searching for something to plug the hole.

  “Try this.” He handed me a pillow from one of the bunks.

  I shoved it into the damaged hull, slowing the flow of water but not plugging it completely. A trickle was still finding its way in.

  “Will the bilge pump handle that?” I wondered aloud.

  “You’re asking the wrong guy,” Gwyn said. “I’m a mining spirit, not a sailing spirit.”

  There came another blow and a second hole opened up. More water gushed in, a fountain of salty coldness soaking through my fur. I swore and pressed my hands against it in a futile attempt to hold back the sea. Gwyn was quick to grab a second pillow, but this time it was even less effective than the first. The hole seemed to be bigger and I couldn’t help feeling this was futile.

  “We can’t take much more of this. How long is banishing the demon going to take?”

  “I’m no expert on witchcraft either,” Gwyn said, following me as I ran back up to the galley. Selina’s chanting seemed to have stopped, and yet the demon clearly hadn’t been sent all the way back to Hell, or we wouldn’t have taken another hit. “You want to know about rocks and minerals, I’m your knocker. For all other speciality areas, you’re out of luck.”

  Selina looked up from her circle as we ran in, her face haggard as though she’d been battling against some kind of sickness. The blood in the centre of the bones was still bubbling, even though her chanting had stopped.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  “I’ve done all I can,” she answered.

  Gwyn carried on going, all the way back up to the wheelhouse. “Well Dhaer’s still being pulled down the vortex. The sea’s closing over it, so I guess that means it was a success?”

  The ship’s hull groaned again and we could hear another fountain open up.

  “Then why are we still taking damage?” I growled, feeling my anger rising. It seemed unfair when we’d supposedly won this fight.

  “It might not be Dhaer’s power hitting us now,” Selina said. “If the demon weakened the metal, it could just be the sea causing more damage.”

  “Can’t you do some witchcraft to help with the flooding?”

  “Magic can’t fix everything. The spell I used before is like the bilge pump itself. It can help clear excess water but it can’t keep up with a leak. We should grab the lifejackets again and prepare for the worst.”

  “No! We can’t be that far off land now. I didn’t come all this way just to give up on our last day at sea. We just need to keep afloat a little longer, till we make it to the coast.”

  No sooner had I spoken than the ship started to tilt to one side. Most of Selina’s tools slid off the table and across the floor, but she managed to save the bowl of blood. The bubbling stopped a moment later. I guessed that meant the flow of magic had run its course as she lost interest in the bowl then, her attention shifting to keeping herself from falling.

  “I don’t think we have a choice.” She gripped the table and struggled to her feet, then managed to slide to the other end of the room and began leading the way out of the cabin.

  “Fuck’s sake,” I growled as I followed her. “We had what, an hour, maybe two at most to reach Spitsbergen?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “Wait, what about Zee and Lady Sarah?”

  “Leave them – we need to get our lifejackets on and get off this ship before we end up trapped in it.”

  “What? You’re not even going to try to save your own sister?”

  “They aren’t in the same danger as we are, remember. They can’t drown and they would have to sink really deep to be crushed.”

  “Okay but even if you don’t think they’re going to sink that deep, isn’t it still kind of risky to just abandon them? What if some sea creature decides they’d make a good meal?”

  “There’s not much else we can do. If we take them out of the cabin, they’ll burn the moment they’re in direct sunlight. It’s safer to leave them in there until nightfall, then they should be able to free themselves and either swim to shore, or fly as bats once they’ve cleared the surface.”

  Everything she said made sense, but I still didn’t feel right about it. “We’re really just going to leave them there?”

  “I can stay and watch over them,” Gwyn said, making his way back down to us. He had two lifejackets in hand, one each for me and Selina. “I can keep them from sinking too far if needs be. I’m probably better off down there as a spirit anyway.”

  Still I hesitated.

  “Nick, we have to go.” Selina tugged on my arm as she pushed the cabin door open. She’d already pulled her lifejacket on and inflated it, though from the look of trepidation creeping into her face, I guessed she was far from thrilled at the prospect of jumping overboard.

  The ship groaned again. Selina was forced to let go of my arm to reach for the railing as she went through the doorway. I could see her pull herself up onto the ship’s side and jump into the waves. A splash indicated she’d hit the water and that was enough to drive away the last of my reservations about leaving the vampires. I figured Selina needed me more than they did and besides, I didn’t want to be out in the open ocean all on my own.

  I donned my own lifejacket and followed in Selina’s footsteps. Even though the ship wasn’t that big, the ocean looked to be a fair drop beneath me with the vessel tilting to one side. We hadn’t completely capsized like we had during the storm, but we weren’t far off. And it was an impressive sight, but also an unnerving one.

  Taking a deep breath, I stepped through the door and gripped the railing, pulling myself up onto the side like Selina had. Dhaer had vanished into the deeps but I could see the witch floating on the surface, her teeth chattering in the cold waters. She was already starting to swim in the direction Spitsbergen was supposedly in, though her progress looked to be painfully slow. I couldn’t keep the morbid question of how long humans can survive the open ocean at lower temperatures from entering my mind, and I had to wonder if we had any hope of swimming the rest of the way or if we were just prolonging our death sentence. My lycanthropy would probably keep me going for longer, but whether it would be enough remained to be seen.
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br />   Just as I was about to jump, a wave crashed against the boat like a cold fist, driving the air from my lungs. The ship seemed to come alive beneath me, the railing like a slippery sea serpent as I lost both my grip and my footing, and I fell.

  I had the sense to pull the lifejacket’s cord on the way down, so at least I wouldn’t have to work to stay afloat. Nothing happened. I had time to try again but still the jacket didn’t inflate, then I was plunging under the surface with another icy impact. The shock of it made me gasp for the air I couldn’t reach, and I felt new fear as salty water poured down my throat while I twisted and thrashed beneath the waves. But I could see light above me and the cold hadn’t robbed me of my strength yet.

  Fighting through the panic, I gave a powerful kick of my limbs and began to swim up towards the light. If I’d been human I doubt I would have made it, but once again my superior speed and strength saved me from otherwise certain death. My snout broke the surface and I gulped in air, my lungs working overtime in response to the cold.

  I treaded water for a moment, trying to calm myself and slow my breathing. Since the faulty lifejacket was useless I pulled it off again, and let the sea claim it. She’d almost claimed the ship by then. Only its bow was visible poking above the waves, but not for much longer. The demon had done what nature alone could not. The ship was lost.

  I looked away from the wreckage in the direction I thought Selina had gone. Fresh fear stabbed through me. She’d disappeared from sight.

  Turning in a full circle, I scanned the waves for any sign of the witch. But she was nowhere to be seen. The horizon also remained frustratingly devoid of land, the same endless watery expanse we’d had to live with for the last week and a bit continuing to stretch in every direction as far as my eyes could see. Disoriented, I tried to work out which way I needed to swim for land and failed. I was lost and alone, out in the open ocean.

  I don’t know how long I’d been swimming before I started to feel the burn in my muscles, but land still wasn’t visible on the horizon. My lupine stamina was keeping me going for the time being, though I could feel exhaustion wasn’t too far off. In hindsight I realised I’d probably have been better as a full wolf, but I didn’t fancy attempting to complete the transformation with nothing but the waves beneath me. Trying to keep myself afloat whilst enduring the pain of shifting flesh and bone may well have been impossible. Then again, as a full wolf I’d be restricted to using the doggy paddle, which wasn’t as fast as the human strokes I could perform whilst in my hybrid form. Maybe this was the best I could have made of a bad situation after all.

  At least I was probably having an easier time of it than Selina. I hoped she was still alive, wherever she’d got to, though if I was feeling the cold through the protection of my pelt, she had to be freezing. It was one of those moments where I felt nothing but gratitude towards the werewolf who’d turned me. As a human, I wouldn’t have stood a chance without a lifejacket, exhaustion likely to have doomed me to a watery grave already. Though if it hadn’t been for the werewolf who’d bitten me, I wouldn’t be out there in the first place. I’d still be at home with Mum and Amy, spending my days studying at college midweek, and my evenings and weekends enjoying TV, video games and books.

  I pushed those thoughts aside and refocused on reaching land. My lupine head and neck were much easier to keep above the waves than in human form, and the same supernatural speed and strength which allowed me to run faster on land also allowed me to propel myself faster through the water. Plus I had little to fear from the sea creatures lurking in the deeps. It was too cold for most shark species, and the only other large predator I could think of which might have posed a threat was the killer whale. But it seemed my presence struck the same fear in the hearts of the creatures of the sea as it did on land, as the odd fish I glimpsed was quick to veer off when it sensed my presence. I was confident orcas would also keep their distance. My odds of survival were definitely better than I’d have faced as a human.

  But even a werewolf has his limits. Dusk was approaching and still I’d not seen the shape of the coastline in the distance. I wasn’t even sure if I’d been swimming the right way. My instincts seemed to be pulling me in a certain direction, though whether that was just wishful thinking I didn’t know. All I could do was follow my gut and pray it led me to dry land.

  Just as my situation was beginning to seem hopeless, there came the faint outline of something solid on the horizon. Fresh hope surged through me and I swam towards it with renewed vigour. It looked like I wasn’t going to die lost at sea after all. The unmistakable curve of mountains rearing above the ocean was growing clearer with every stroke I made. My instincts had served me well. I was saved.

  The feeling of my feet touching solid ground seemed like the most blessed thing I’d ever known as I rose from the waves and pulled myself up onto the snow-covered rock. I shook the thickest of the water from my pelt and took a moment to simply stand and enjoy the experience of being back on dry land, after the days spent with the constant rocking of the ship on the waves. It felt so good just to be free of that motion. Zee might have come to like it, but I never would.

  In the fading light, I took in everything I could of this foreign shore. It took no more than a glance to see I’d landed in a place so very different to the country I’d always called home, and yet a part of me was already feeling more at home here than I ever had in the UK. For this was a land of snow and ice, virtually untouched by the taint of man. Its natural beauty was still unspoiled, the white of the Arctic blanket radiating a purity which the wintry streets of civilisation lacked.

  Mountains stretched to either side of me, frost covered giants utterly bare of the greenery I was used to. I climbed to the top of the one I’d landed on, the wonder I felt for my new surroundings giving way to hunger and another wave of exhaustion. My body needed food and rest, and after being denied the thrill of the hunt for well over a week, I was eager to indulge my carnivorous appetite once again. But I paused at the mountain’s peak to look back across the waves. What had become of my friends? Were they still out there somewhere, and was I better off waiting a while to see if they washed up on these same shores? Gwyn and the vampires probably wouldn’t need my help, but Selina might.

  A cold wind danced around my body, teasing fingers ruffling my fur and twisting through the defences of my pelt in an attempt to steal the warmth from the skin beneath. My body’s demands grew more urgent. The hunger would not be denied any longer, so I turned away, trying not to think about all the terrible things that might have befallen the others. I could come back and wait along the coast once my own needs were taken care of, but I’d be no good to them weak and half asleep if I didn’t hunt and rest first.

  Night fell. The sky was an uninterrupted curtain of blackness, clouds shielding the heavens and all the natural lights they had to offer from view. In the absence of any artificial lighting, even my supernatural eyes were struggling to pick out the frozen landscape I was making my way across. But my other senses helped to give a mental image. One scent in particular grabbed my attention, my feet veering in that direction as though I were being pulled by it.

  I prowled across the tundra, undaunted by the lack of woodland I’d always felt I belonged in, until I reached the source of the smell. And sure enough, there was the blood I’d detected, invisible to my eyes but strong as ever to my nose. But the body it had leaked from was already dead and the animal had not died of natural causes.

  A roar came out of the darkness, signalling the predator’s willingness to defend her kill. I didn’t need sight or smell to know what I was up against then. The memory of my last encounter with a bear was still fresh in my mind, when I’d been in similarly poor condition and had almost fallen to the grizzly’s might. This Arctic cousin would also make for a formidable opponent and I was in no hurry to test myself against her strength.

  She had to be desperate to stand her ground, despite the fear I’d awoken in her. If she was starving she may
well fight to the death to keep her prize, and my own hunger had not yet reached the point of driving me into a fight I couldn’t be sure I’d win. So I backed away from the polar bear and continued on.

  Eventually I was rewarded for my patience with an entire herd of reindeer. We seemed to sense each other in the same brief moment, a moment so fleeting, and yet so heavy with the grim touch of fate. One of the herd was destined to die that night.

  A panicked cry went up among the animals and they broke into a run, stampeding across the snow in blind terror. Excitement surged through my veins, voicing itself in a howl of joy. This might not be quite the same as the dream hunt with a pack of my mortal cousins, but it was still the call of the wild I’d been denied on board the ship. It was still the primal ecstasy of chasing down my prey and unlocking the feast just waiting there beneath the skin, for any worthy enough to claim it. This was what I was made to do.

  My heart sang with fresh delight as I dropped to all fours and bounded across the tundra in pursuit of my quarry. It didn’t matter that I could barely see the terrain I was running on. My clawed hands and feet were as sure footed as ever, my limbs carrying me over the snow as if I had become one with the land. I was on my prey in a couple of minutes, chosen not because of any particular weakness I’d detected but simply because she had the misfortune to be nearest my jaws once I’d caught up with the herd.

  Letting my bloodlust rise with the anticipation of the kill, I grabbed hold of the limb I sensed within reach of my muzzle. The pressure on my fangs as they closed around flesh and bone, and the warm rush of intense flavour on my tongue, indicated I’d found my mark. One jerk of my head and it was all over for the reindeer. She was brought crashing down, the night ringing with her screams of pain as I tore into the soft flesh of her belly and devoured the meat and offal my body craved.