Wolf Moon: Lia Stone: Demon Hunter - Episode Two (Dragon-born Guardians Series Book 2)

by Austin Hackney

  “Safer.”

  “It’ll do.”

  With the sword cradled in both arms as if he was carrying a baby and with me ahead, all my senses alert for any sign of werewolf activity, we jogged through the darkness toward the Circle of Lebanon. The moon was full and bright, and the marble of the monuments glowed in the eerie light.

  At the portico we paused. The light from the burning tree and the sound of chanting gave me hope. Seems the ritual isn’t over yet.

  “Look,” Joe said nodding toward the ground. In the pale light I saw where the dirt floor of the arena was scuffed and scarred by recent movement.

  “Clawed paw prints,” I said.

  “Heck of a big pooch, whatever it was. It’d make a Great Dane look like a Tinsel Town lapdog.”

  “There’re loads of imprints. It’s the whole pack returning. But that’s not what worries me.”

  “No?”

  “Look between the imprints. It’s like they were each dragging something with them.”

  “And so that wet, red smeary stuff is most likely…”

  “Blood.”

  “From dead or dying victims of the hunt.”

  “Icky.”

  By silent consent we tracked forward along the somber avenue until we were in the shadows opposite the mausoleum: the temple which gave access to the Cedar of Lebanon itself by way of the hidden staircase behind the small altar. The statue of Anubis was restored to its original position, and thick candles of black wax guttered, casting weird shadows on the walls.

  Up above, the tree blazed in unnatural fire and the girls, all of them still transformed, ringed around its base. I couldn’t make out the altar slab from where we were hiding, but I saw Moratu, looking pretty demonic himself in his occult robes; with a sacrificial dagger, lethal and sharp, lifted above his head.

  At first I thought we would witness the first sacrifice. But his arms were raised in supplication, the sharp edge of the dagger lifted toward the full moon.

  “This is so déjà vu,” I whispered, the memory of an occult temple beneath a closed-up theater in Soho flashing into my mind.

  “You know this guy well?”

  “It’s the same guy as before, Joe. This is Moratu. The Dragon-born mage-gone-bad.”

  “Impressive.”

  I had to give Joe a withering look. "You reckon? He’s more like an annoying mosquito. No matter how many times you swat him away, he keeps buzzing back."

  “So why swat him away? Why not just, you know,” he gestured squishing a fly, “swat him. I mean in a once-and-for-all kind of way?”

  “I wish I could. Now listen. Track around the outside of the circle to the other side of the tree. Keep on the right, the inner side, so you’ll be under shadow.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Up there,” I said, pointing to the mausoleum ahead. “There’s a staircase at the back. You won’t be able to see me, but when I give the word…”

  “…which will be?”

  “How about… ‘now’?” When I give the word, fling Excalibur up onto the green.”

  “I can barely lift it, but I’ll do my best.”

  “You’ll be fine. A big, strong cop like you.” I grinned. “Trust me.”

  He nodded and turned toward the right to head around the circle. He’d only gone a few paces when I noticed a weight in my pocket. I reached in and pulled the object out.

  “Hey,” I hissed. “Joe Summers!” He stopped and turned. “Catch.”

  He caught the revolver easily, despite still cradling the sword. “Just in case,” I said. “The cartridge is full.”

  He nodded and went, swallowed by the darkness.

  The werewolf circle closed as all the beasts joined hands, their heads flung back in a chorus of bloodcurdling howling.

  Seems climactic.

  I dashed across the avenue into the temple of Anubis. I paused a moment at the altar, reaching out with my right hand, and cracked the head of the Anubis statue. “You so suck,” I said, dropping the head to smash on the floor. “You have totally messed up my weekend.” A second later and I’d climbed up the steps. Keeping down far enough in the shadows to stay hidden, I peered out. And what I saw made my flesh crawl.

  The inner circle was littered with bodies, and the altar drenched in fresh blood: but not enough to empower the demon to materialize. Stretched across the marble slab was another body, still breathing, still alive. Man or woman I couldn’t tell in the dim, half-light masked by Moratu’s voluminous cloak. He raised the dagger above him.

  “Come, O Anubis! Demon god! Accept this final sacrifice. Drink this blood and let it empower thee!”

  Man, you are such a one trick monkey. Why not take up a less dangerous hobby? Nuke juggling, maybe.

  I jumped out the hole in the ground and stood right behind him.

  “You know you’re repeating yourself?” I said.

  He spun around, the dagger flashing. But I was ready for him. My boot connected with his jaw before he had a chance to realize what had happened. He twisted away under the force of the blow, purple blood spraying from his nose. Gold flecks glittered in the light from the supernaturally blazing tree.

  But if I’d thought I was on the winning side of that encounter, I couldn’t have been more wrong.

  As he fell back over the body of the victim on the altar he got the blade behind him. The old man on the slab gasped, not even having the strength left to scream, as the lethal steel punctured his flesh and the weight of Moratu’s body pressed it through him.

  The final sacrifice was made.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  M ORATU ROLLED OFF THE DEAD man’s body and slipped down behind the altar and out of sight. My eyes flashed away from him. The burning tree roared and flamed hotter than before, forcing me to stagger backward and raise my arms to protect my eyes from the blaze. The flames changed color from orange to blue to green, and then from red to darker red to a smoky black. Moratu had vanished.

  The black smoke swirled and congealed, and flashes of lightning shot from it into the surrounding space. The demon Anubis materialized.

  “Now!” I screamed with all the breath in my lungs, my hand outstretched, my eyes searching for Excalibur. I’d imagined the blade spinning up from below and me rushing forward to catch it. But no sword appeared.

  What’s happened? Why doesn’t Joe throw the sword?

  But I had no time to answer that question. The pack of werewolves was on me, emboldened and empowered by the demon’s arrival. The head of Anubis glared at me through the dispersing smoke. “Now!” I cried again, desperate this time. “Joe! Now! Throw the freaking sword!”

  But it was too late. The world vanished from sight as the monsters dragged me to the ground, claws puncturing my skin, spilling my purple and gold Dragon blood on the trampled grass in the Circle of Lebanon. I’m strong, and enraged I have a mighty power, but the strength of a pack of thirteen supernatural beasts is a match even for me unless I shift into my true Dragon form.

  I fought as best I could, but the werewolves had the advantage of surprise and I was flat on my back, their strong hands gripping my limbs, pressing me down, holding me to the ground.

  The largest of them appeared over me, its jaws dripping evil slime and its eyes aglow with hatred and hunger. These were unlike the werewolves I’d seen before, and still less like the girls I had known. These were not wolf-natured, but demonically possessed, all traces of their original humanity destroyed.

  I spat in the creature’s eye, which only enraged it further. Its fangs glistened in the weird, preternatural light, its tongue lolled, and its throat let rip with a terrible roar of victory. In the next second its head would plunge down toward my throat.

  My muscles tensed like rigid steel as I prepared to feel those foul fangs sink into my flesh. I’m not ashamed to admit I screamed, with my eyes screwed shut. Bummer of a way to die as some demon-dog’s dinner, and it’ll hurt like hell, too.

  But the fangs never got that
far. The claws released me, and the werewolves backed off. I opened my eyes and sprung to my feet, shaking, unsure of what was happening, but ready to continue the fight.

  The werewolves had fallen way back now to the edge of the circle, clustered like obedient puppies around the ankles of the biggest, most awesome werewolf I could ever have imagined. His eyes were pure, and alive with a potent spiritual energy. He showed no fear as he stood tall and proud, his hackles raised and his muscular arms stretched out to either side of him. He inclined his head, acknowledging me.

  The Alpha.

  Now that is good timing, I thought. And then a voice came from behind me.

  “Lia?”

  It was Joe.

  As I spun around the Alpha turned, leaped down from the circle and led the pack away after him; away howling into the darkness of the night.

  Joe was bruised and bloodied. His clothes were torn. But he had the blade. He pressed it into my hands.

  “Sorry for the delay,” he said. “These dogs really should be on leashes.”

  Before I could reply, the huge figure of Anubis completed its materialization between us and the burning tree.

  You can forget the images you might have seen on the walls of the Egyptian pyramid tombs or illustrations in books. The real thing was a thousand times scarier; a thousand times more hellish, and it exuded a hideous sense of evil which ripped the psychic atmosphere into burning shreds. It was a thing of real evil.

  In the time it took for Joe to hand me the magic sword the demon had emerged through the Gate. Its huge hand, laden with jeweled rings in gold and silver, swiped through the night air with the force of a missile and swept Joe away. I mean, one moment he was there, and I was looking into his eyes, and the next moment all the blood drained from his face and a look of terror and surprise came over him as he vanished.

  I jumped back, raising Excalibur to protect me. Out the corner of my eye I saw Joe flung way out the circle and crash into the deep avenue of mausoleums encircling the area. My heart ached with fear for him. But I had no time to feel anything except anger, and determination to destroy the demon.

  I stood with my legs astride, both hands clenched around the hilt of the ancient sword. “Here boy,” I snarled, flexing my fingers around the hilt, feeling my anger turn to power and surge through me, crackling in magical energy down the blade, flashes and sparks of light in the dark. “Time you learned to walk to heel.”

  But the beast wasn’t interested in banter. It seemed to swell and grow before me, its rippling muscles huge and its eyes burning with a hellish red that caused the flaming tree to pale and fade. It was unarmed. But that didn’t seem to trouble it. It crossed its great arms in front of its heaving chest and leaped forward, almost as if it meant to squash me flat like an old soda can crushed underfoot.

  I dodged sideways into a roll and sprang back up to my feet, swinging the blade in a smooth arc. The magical steel sliced a deep cut through the monster’s flank. Black blood spattered over the gray grass.

  “Nice one,” I congratulated myself. But a second later the demon spun about. Its huge hand smashed against me, throwing me to the ground. I landed with a painful thud on the stones at the edge of the circle. As I rolled over the demon lurched forward snarling and its great jaws opened. If I’d been scared of the damage the werewolves’ fangs might have done to the precious flesh of my neck that seemed like nothing now. Each of those teeth was equal in size, length, and sharpness to Excalibur itself. It was like a line of twenty swords all bearing down on me at the same time.

  But I’d come into my power and I was seriously pissed with this one.

  “Time for a bit of dentistry,” I said, pulling back just as the demon’s jaws, stretched wide, swung down at me. Summoning Dragon energy from deep within, I focused it down Excalibur’s edge, and swung the blade across the line of savage teeth. Blue energy sparked and flashed. The steel sliced through those fantastical fangs one after another like a chef’s knife slicing the tails off of carrots.

  I dodged the rain of sharpened points and jumped back at the ready.

  “Little less bitey now, pal,” I said.

  The sudden loss of its most potent weapon shocked the monster. Its power faded. “Maybe we just found your Achilles fang,” I said aloud. The demon landed on its knees, the momentum of its leap and the weight of its massive body dragging it forward onto all fours.

  It looked like a dog then. But I knew there was only one thing I could do. With its neck exposed and unprotected, this might be my best chance. Without hesitation I raised the blade and slashed it down. It splattered through the demon’s neck and its huge head chunked to the ground and lay still. Its body remained on all fours, its heart still pounding, pumping black blood from its severed jugular, forming a foul pool of evil-smelling goo on the grass.

  Then, like a building being demolished, it fell. I dodged out the way, feeling the ground shake under my feet as its bulk smashed into the earth. As it hit the ground, it exploded into black fire and smoke and was gone.

  “I reckon I’m getting the hang of this,” I said aloud, wiping Excalibur’s blade on the grass. But I had little time for self-congratulation. My first thought was for Joe. I turned toward the edge of the circle where I’d seen him fall. But I didn’t move even one step from the spot where I was standing.

  A heavy hand weighed down on my shoulder, strong fingers squeezing tight, pulling me round.

  I stood face-to-face with Moratu. His eyes burned with anger and resentment. His narrow lips were tight as he hissed, “That’s the second and last time you mess with my plans, girl.”

  The sword of the Pendragon couldn’t be used to kill another Dragon, but I still had other skills and a mean high kick to play with. I slacked off a moment to take him off his guard, and then with a sudden movement chopped my right arm up and dashed his hand from my shoulder.

  I spun back, ready to kick him in the jaw, but he’d expected my tactic, dodged, caught me off balance, and snatched the sword from my hand. I landed back in the circle and sprung up again, fists raised and ready to fight. He stood smiling, the blade lowered. “I can’t use this to slay you any more than you can use it to slay me. But there are other ways I can kill you. And I will. Unless… I want to give you one last opportunity…”

  I’d opened my mouth to ask him in as snarky a tone as I could muster just what opportunity he was talking about – although I already knew he meant his insane scheme to bring the demons through into this world and use them to regain the power of Atlantis – when his right arm shot out and before I could react, his hand gripped tight at my neck. He lifted me off the ground. Whether he was always this strong, or whether possession of the sword somehow empowered him, I couldn’t struggle free. His face was rabid with fury.

  “This, Ms. Stone, is your last chance. Will you join me? Or would you prefer to die?”

  The veins bulged at my temples and my vision swam. I thought of shifting, but realized that not only would Moratu also be able to shift, but he’d squeeze the life out of me before I could complete the transformation.

  I hated him more than ever. And I guess there’s no shame that my eyes filled with tears. Maybe it was the pressure he was putting on my jugular. Maybe it was the difficulty I was having breathing as his fingers squeezed tighter. Maybe it was that. Or maybe it was the knowledge I’d probably messed Dan up for the rest of his life; that I’d gotten Joe killed; that I’d failed.

  But I’d sooner have been damned than given in to his wishes, failed or not. I tried to spit in his face, but I couldn’t catch enough breath to project the saliva and it dribbled down my face.

  “Well?” he said.

  “No,” I managed. “You can stick it up your ass.”

  He lifted me an inch higher and his fist closed tighter again around my neck. The world spun around me, the moonlight and the firelight fading away into endless, eternal night.

  A was single, resounding gunshot echoed through the circle. And I hit the ground lik
e a sack of rocks.

  It didn’t take long for the blood to circulate again and I gulped in a lungful of air as my vision returned. In a moment I was back on my feet.

  Moratu staggered backward, shock and surprise on his face, one hand clasped to his upper right arm, blood oozing from between his fingers. Another shot rang out and he doubled-up, more blood pulsing from his guts. And another shot, this time blasting a hole in top of his head as he crumpled to the ground, a mess of ripped flesh and sticky blood.

  Is he dead?

  I trembled. Sure, on one level I was glad that the bastard was out of action and his demon-summoning antics had come to an end. But I’d witnessed nothing as brutal or bloody as a man being shot. It was different to slicing up an inhuman demon with a sword. Moratu may have been a bad guy, but he was still kin.

  The tree had stopped its preternatural flaming. Joe walked toward me, sliding the gun back into his pocket. He wrapped his arms around me, clenching me to him, and his lips pressed kiss after kiss after kiss against my head, my cheeks, my lips. “Thank god, thank god, thank god,” he kept saying. “You’re alive.”

  We became still, our arms around one another, my head resting on his shoulder. “We did it,” I said. “Seems I still owe you my life.”

  He smiled. “Hey, keep it,” he said. “I have enough trouble with my own.”

  I disentangled myself and retrieved Excalibur from where Moratu had abandoned it. Joe said, “Your wounds… I thought those werewolves tore you to pieces.”

  I looked down at the quickly formed scars which I knew would soon heal as if they had never been there. “I’m a Dragon, remember?” I said. “We heal fast.”

  My heart twisted in my breast, remembering his embrace, his kisses. That’s right, Lia, I reminded myself. You’re a Dragon Guardian. You’ve already messed up Dan because of that, you’d better leave the poor detective alone. This blood doesn’t mix.

  The moment passed as the night air pulsed with the sound of police and fire department sirens. From down the hill flashing lights sped along the road toward the cemetery.