Hounds of God: A Werewolf Urban Fantasy Novel (Cursed Night Book 1)

by Justin Sloan

  Sure enough, a couple of soldiers kept on moving the direction he’d been heading.

  One stopped, then sniffed the air.

  Not a good sign.

  Danny leaped up and turned to run, noticing the jerk of the man’s head as he did so. They weren’t just ordinary people, or at least not this one.

  Running in this part of the woods was difficult, considering there were no paths and most of the ground was overgrown with berry patches and ferns. Danny threw himself over a fallen tree, using a hand to push off so as not to waste time climbing. A barely-visible stream nearly caused him to trip, but he recovered and was at the other side before a heavy force collided with his side and threw him to the ground.

  The soldier landed an elbow across Danny’s jaw, causing stars to dance across the forest. When he raised himself for a second blow, Danny was ready—a slight shift of his body to the right gave him enough room to dodge the strike and gain enough leverage to throw his forearm against the man’s elbow while his other hand pulled. With a loud CRACK the soldier’s arm was bent backwards, he was grunting in pain.

  To his credit, the soldier didn’t give up there. Even as Danny was scrambling to his feet, the soldier tackled him and, with his good arm reached for his gun.

  This was the part Danny hated. When the guns came out, it meant someone had to die. Danny made sure it wasn’t him by spinning to kick the gun aside and then tossing the man into the small stream, where he held him, arms burning with the effort of fighting against the man’s last attempts to breathe, until the body was limp.

  When it was over, Danny rolled aside and stared up at the blue sky barely visible through the tree branches overhead. A soft, billowing cloud moved slowly across the sky, and Danny focused on pushing the negative out, the positive in. He was that cloud, floating to its destiny. He closed his eyes and was almost at peace, remembering the days of their youth when he, Katherine, Babur, and the others had trained through the nights and spent days reciting passages from Aldrick’s A Way of Light manifesto.

  Even though he’d lost faith in Aldrick long ago, after the man’s death, he had to admit that bits of his teachings still lingered. He had been there longer than Katherine, after all. A couple of years longer, even.

  Did he buy into the idea that they were sent by god to fend off “evil?” At first, he might have… but not after their first kill. Not after the first night he’d blacked out and woke up with the taste of iron in his mouth and blood splattered on his bare feet.

  Aldrick had assured him that he’d done nothing wrong, that every life he’d taken had been for the cause. No matter how hard he tried to convince himself that was the truth, it didn’t sit right.

  But he had to believe there was some reason for their curse, or blessing, or whatever the hell it was that transformed them to wolves. Especially so with Kat, who changed every night. She was different, and there had to be a reason for that.

  He’d never told her, but this was the real reason he was out here, searching. He wanted clues, yes, but clues to understand their purpose, not necessarily for the cure she longed for.

  Enough time had passed with him lying there like that, so he pushed himself up, glanced around to make sure he was safe, and then ran off toward the mountain village.

  The jog through the woods was almost peaceful, if not for the nagging worry about Babur in the village. Part of him worried Kat would get caught as well, but another part of him knew she could handle herself. He’d seen her in action—he’d felt the pain of that action when they’d sparred together. Babur, however, seemed to need help in everything he did.

  Even today, when Danny found the young man, he was sitting at a restaurant, out in the open like an idiot. Danny marched right in under the red and white striped awning, up to Babur’s table, and then took a bite of his sandwich. He was famished, and GOD, the combination of rye bread, sauerkraut, thousand island dressing, and pastrami that melted in his mouth was to die for. But there wasn’t time to enjoy the rest of it, but today.

  “What’s happened?” Babur said, staring wide eyed as Danny pulled him up and toward the door. They ignored the curious glances from the other customers.

  “Sir, you have to pay for that—” a waitress started, but a couple of twenties shut her up.

  A quick glance around once they were outside, and Danny brushed off Babur’s coat, smoothing the points he’d ruffled in his haste.

  “What the hell, Danny?” Babur said, confusion turning to worry.

  “Now’s not a good time to be seen about,” Danny said.

  “Come on, we’re in the middle of butt-crack nowhere. It’s such a big deal that I treat myself to a damn Reuben?”

  “Your choice of sandwich means nothing when you’re dead,” Danny said. A thought hit him when he said that, a realization that the soldiers hadn’t seemed out for blood. “Or captured….”

  “No….” Babur’s eyes glistened. “They have Katherine?”

  “God, no. She’s supposed to find you, meet back at the room. Looks like I found you first.”

  “Hunter would kill….”

  “Exactly,” Danny said. “And if it had been him, we’d likely be dead right now. Though, if they found us, I would be surprised if Hunter’s not far behind.”

  A movement caught Danny’s eyes—a van with two men exiting, soldiers like the others. Danny pushed Babur farther down the alley, but before he could run, one of the soldiers made eye contact.

  “Run!” he hissed at Babur. “Find Kat while I shake these clowns.”

  Babur took off without a moment’s hesitation.

  If Danny followed him, this whole I’ll distract them business would be a waste. But what other direction did he have? The only way was up.

  He scaled the nearest building by climbing up a car and leaping to a small patio. From there it was an easy chicken wing up, followed by another patio until he could reach the roof of this two-story building.

  The next building over was too far away for a jump, but that hadn’t been Danny’s plan to begin with.

  Instead, he ran to the front and lowered himself to hang over the awning, then dropped, slid down the red and white stripes, and grabbed hold at the last minute to swing himself back and nearly collide with the waitress from before as she stepped out to see what the commotion was.

  He held a finger to his lips and then took off before the soldiers could realize he was now behind them.

  The rendezvous point—he had to make sure Babur and Kat had met up. But when he rounded the next corner, the flash of a silver pistol stopped him cold. A young man in an old suit exited a beat up car, not even bothering to hide his side-arm, a pistol meant for killing werewolves.

  Hunter.

  Chapter 4: Silver Bullets

  Katherine stumbled into the square of the small town of Bakerville. It wasn’t more than several streets and rows of houses, but it felt great to be back in relative civilization. The square was crowded with farmer’s market goers, and she bumped into a man with long blonde hair who eyed her suspiciously as he passed.

  She had to remember that any one of these people could be with the soldiers that had attacked her. If her theory was correct, they could even be working with Gregor and the other werewolves. They had been running from them for far too long, but the last thing she wanted was a fight. Perhaps that was a silly hope, in light of recent circumstances. If he had sent those men, he wasn’t just following her anymore—he was declaring war.

  A figure appeared behind her, too close for comfort, and she jumped. It was only Babur, one of the few who had come with her and Danny when they’d parted ways with the pack. He was nineteen now, and walked with a slight limp.

  “Lose someone?” he asked out of the corner of his mouth, walking among the crowd.

  “You scared the crap out of me,” she said, turning to see if anyone was paying attention to them. No one seemed to be.

  “I saw Danny. Where is he?”

  “Last I saw, distracting a
bunch of armed guys so I could get away,” she said.

  “Yeah, me too.” He lowered his voice. “I didn’t have the chance to tell him, but… rumor has it another person went missing, blood trail the only clue.”

  “One of… our kind?”

  Babur nodded.

  “Damnit.” She glanced around, then nodded toward the far end of the town. “Come on, keep moving. Danny was headed here?”

  “Supposed to be, yeah.”

  They walked briskly, in hopes of reuniting at the rendezvous point as quickly as possible so they could get out of there. Whatever had been in that hidden chamber, if anything, didn’t seem worth dying over.

  “All this running when we should be fighting,” Babur said. “We—”

  “Stop.”

  “How long do you think it’ll be before one of us slips? Something will point to us, even if it wasn’t our doing.”

  Katherine held up a hand, but kept walking, eyes straight. “We’re going to Europe, to search out the Benandanti werewolves.”

  “You mean Italy,” he said, eyes wide with confusion. “But you always said—”

  “We’re getting desperate,” she said, and then added, “It’s worth a try.”

  He pulled her around to face him. “We’re on a hopeless treasure hunt here.”

  “You believe that,” she said, “then you should have gone with the pack nine years ago.”

  He looked hurt, then resolute. “No, Kat. Not gone with them, stopped them. We all should’ve!”

  She opened her mouth to respond when—BANG!

  A red blossom of blood formed on Babur’s shirt, and he clutched at her jacket for support before falling to the ground, choking on his own blood.

  Then she saw him—Hunter, the man who had attacked their house all those years ago. Even after killing the pack’s leader, Aldrick, he hunted the rest and had never given up. He always wore a weathered suit and carried a silver pistol that glimmered in the waning light.

  “Like a family reunion,” he said, voice full of malice.

  The crowd filled with screams as people ran for cover. Katherine used the chaos to her advantage, ducking behind a stall and sprinting down the sidewalk. A wooden beam splintered with a shot, and then she was gone, down a small alley.

  She glanced back to see Hunter appear at the end of the alley, pistol aimed, but she kicked off the side wall and propelled herself through an open window with a crash. She rolled to stand up, pushed through a hanging bead curtain, and kicked open the door as it splintered with a gunshot. Ducking, she hurried down the narrow street.

  Her foot splashed in the bloodied water from a butcher shop, and a moment later she was at an almost empty parking lot with a fountain in the middle. Tall evergreens surrounded the area, blocking out any sign of the sinking sun.

  A long shadow fell across the pavement as Hunter entered from the alley.

  Katherine scanned the purpling sky, then saw it—the moon.

  After a moment’s hesitation, she charged. Hunter aimed. The bullet rang out with another bang, narrowly missing. As night took over, she transformed mid-run, not to full werewolf, but with wolf-like features as she often did on these nights—claws, yellow eyes, sharp teeth, and incredible strength.

  The pistol rose again and a bullet hit her in the shoulder, throwing her back. She tried to stand, but collapsed. Silver. He had used silver, her one real weakness.

  Hunter stood over her, smoking pistol aimed for the kill, and slowly her body transformed back to normal. He hesitated at the sight of her human form, then steeled himself and aimed for her heart.

  “This part’s never easy,” he said, then squeezed the trigger.

  A large shape appeared, tackling Hunter to the ground and knocking the pistol aside. Two soldiers held him down as the shape, who Katherine now knew to be Gregor, lifted her in his arms and ran.

  Hunter roared in anger, far off now. Katherine felt herself being carried through the trees, all of it a blur, and then she was in the passenger seat of a truck, Gregor driving as they sped away. He held out a cloth and said, “Strong pressure. Do it.”

  “It won’t matter,” she said. “It’s silver.”

  He glanced over at her with a worried frown.

  “You were trying to kill me before,” she said. “Why rescue me now?”

  Again, no answer. She took the cloth, and held it to the wound. If she could at least stop the bleeding, maybe she’d find a way to get the silver out of her body.

  “It’s time you returned to the cause. Admit what you are.” Gregor swerved down a side street.

  “And you… you can still go back for Danny.” She leaned against the door, hand ready. “Give up on Aldrick’s insane cause.”

  “The cause is all we have in life,” Gregor said, voice rising in agitation. “Our only path to redemption!”

  “Aldrick was a mad man!”

  Gregor snarled and turned, hand raised, but she was ready. With a deep breath to muster courage, she threw the door open and slumped out of the moving truck.

  The ground hit hard, but she rolled with it as best she could.

  Not far ahead, the truck screeched to a halt while Katherine recovered. She broke into a staggering run and hurried down a hill into the trees, hoping the darkness would keep her concealed.

  At any minute, Gregor could come charging through those woods, or Hunter could appear before her. Or maybe the soldiers. She didn’t like being out in the open like this, alone, but saw no alternative. Each step in the woods, dodging trees and avoiding rocks, was another that she knew could be her last.

  She came to a clearing and paused, listening, trying to use her sense of smell to check for followers. But no, night hadn’t yet fully arrived, so her senses were no different from any other regular person’s. A tree branch moved and a squirrel jumped to another tree, stood there staring at her, and then finally scampered off.

  With a sigh of relief, she was about to move on when a dark shape moved not far off to her left. One of the soldiers. She had hoped they wouldn’t be here.

  Her heart’s loud thumping coursed across her skull, enough so that she almost thought the man would turn at the sound. Her arm ached from where she had been shot, but she had to ignore the pain. She stepped forward, cautious… but nothing happened. She stood still beside a tree, debating her next move. If the soldier knew where she was, he would have acted by now, right?

  She was considering whether to charge him and try to get the upper hand, when she heard a zip, and a second later the splash of liquid hitting the forest floor. Taking a man down while he was relieving himself—that didn’t sound right. But then again, she couldn’t take the risk of him spotting her or Danny, and her injury meant she had to use whatever advantage she had.

  A count to three… then she was sprinting through the woods. She leaped, and he didn’t know what hit him.

  Two more forms were moving toward her. She knelt and dragged the unconscious soldier into the tall ferns. If she stayed here, she might be able to take these two on, but her shoulder was throbbing and it wasn’t worth the risk. Instead, she moved away at a crouched run, hoping she’d have enough of a lead on them before they found their fallen companion.

  At the edge of town, she paused, catching her breath. A voice carried not far off, one that made her ears perk up and nostrils flare—Hunter. She hobbled toward the sound, curious as to how he’d escaped the soldiers.

  What she saw made her want to transform and run at him, but the silver bullet in her shoulder wouldn’t allow any shifting.

  Hunter had Danny pinned against a wall, silver pistol to his temple.

  “Where is she?” Hunter demanded.

  “You’re hunting the wrong Cursed,” Danny said between gritted teeth. “We swore off that life a long time ago.”

  “Tell me where!” He slammed the pistol against the wood panel next to Danny’s head. “You will not stand in my way!”

  Two more shadows fell across the ground nearby, behin
d Hunter and out of his sight. Soldiers.

  “Damnit, Danny,” Katherine whispered to herself. She had to get in there, to help. Danny and Babur had been there for her over the years - them and no one else. Now Danny was all she had left.

  She looked at the moon, clenched her jaw, and dug her fingers into her shoulder. Pain shot through her, coursing through her nerves, boiling her alive from the inside. She wanted to shout out, but she had a duty to her friend. Blood seeped out of the wound in quick little spurts, and then she felt the silver—just as she heard the gunshot.

  There was no more time. She dug deep, clasping the silver, and pulled…. But the world spun and her legs gave out. The last thing she saw was a shape moving in to catch her body before it hit the ground—a man with long, blonde hair. Darkness took her.

  Chapter 5: Taken

  Danny’s eyes darted to the nearby shadows—he thought he’d heard a whimper. If it were Babur or Kat, he hoped they were smart enough to either get out of there, now, or have a sniper rifle aimed at Hunter’s head.

  “I’m done playing cat and mouse with you,” Hunter said. He smiled as he squeezed the trigger.

  But not fast enough.

  Two forms appeared from out of the shadows. The first knocked the pistol aside as the second tackled Hunter. A shot rang out in the night, but met only air. Next came a thud as the soldier’s fist connected with Hunter’s face.

  Danny took a step back, amazed to be alive, and even more amazed to see these two soldiers getting the best of Hunter.

  But the legend wouldn’t allow his reputation to be tarnished so easily. With a twist of his body, Hunter had maneuvered out from under the soldier and wrapped a leg up and over the man’s neck before pulling down to slam his head into the cement. Hunter spun and caught the other with a jab to the groin and then an uppercut to the sternum as he stood.

  This wasn’t a show, and Danny didn’t have any popcorn. So he ran.

  He ran right into an outstretched arm, which sent his feet up in the air and caused him to land with a heavy thud on his back. Gasping for air, he strained to see his attacker in the dark. A car drove by in the distance, but close enough for the headlights to show the dark haired, muscular form of a man he knew all too well, but did his best to avoid—Gregor. The leader of the other Cursed, werewolves who still followed Aldrick’s path of so-called enlightenment. Even though Aldrick was gone.