by Stead, Nick
Rage blazed all the stronger, and I forgot all caution as I crossed the room to face this latest bout of madness. To the human I would have been no more than a monstrous black shape, if she’d been real. But Amy couldn’t really be there, and when she stood to taunt me with more of my innermost troubles, I swiped at her before she had chance to speak, making her disappear like I had before with my brain’s phantoms. Except this time she didn’t disappear. My claws met with resistance, clothing ripped, and deep gouges opened up in the flesh beneath. And she fell.
CHAPTER TEN
Ghosts of the Past
My sister hit the floor, shock rendering her mute for those few moments before she passed out. Blood welled up in the gashes I’d created and began to pool on the ground, and only then did the terrible realisation hit me that this wasn’t a hallucination after all. Somehow the Slayers had my sister – my real, flesh and blood and so fragilely mortal sister – locked up in this dungeon with me. And I’d just dealt her fatal wounds.
“No,” I growled. The pool of blood was growing and I fell to my knees beside her, holding her torn body to me and placing those same monstrous hands responsible for causing the damage over her wounds, trying to stem the blood flow. But I could only ever be a bringer of death, not life, and I was aware my attempt to stop her bleeding was in vain. Some part of me even drooled over the warm human flesh I craved so badly, my stomach growling again and the scent of blood thickening as if it had grown heavier on the air, stronger even than the stench of decay. “No!”
I’d roared the word that time and I could have sworn the sound was so full of rage and pain that it shook the very walls of the room and reverberated throughout the dungeon. If only my voice had the power to drive off Death and delay his claim on Amy long enough for me to find someone who could help. I knew better than to cling to such fantasies though. The paleness of her weakening flesh was all too real and her breathing was becoming laboured.
It was then the shadows chose to give up their secrets at last, retreating behind a wave of light which filled the room and revealed all. The lights no longer flickered dully but became bright and steady, and six real flames sprang into being on candlewicks placed around the shape I’d seen in the darkness.
It was a shrine to someone else from my past, someone else I’d thought I’d seen the last of since fully embracing my lupine half. At least, I hadn’t expected to encounter any more visions of her conjured by my troubled conscience, or nightmares brought on by guilt. She’d always be there in my memory, even if I’d made peace with her death. But I never thought I’d find myself looking at her picture again.
That face was every bit as beautiful as I remembered it, full of warmth and happiness. Her skin, a lustrous shade of golden brown, such a contrast to the pale hue it had taken on in death. Then happiness had been replaced by fear, before that too had been ripped from her by the same teeth and claws which had now doomed Amy to the grave.
Her perfect smile flashed at me from six different images, carefully arranged around the stone ledge. And as if I could forget, her name was written in large letters across the wall above, in what looked to be more blood.
Silently I took all this in while I cradled my dying sister, the pieces beginning to fall into place. Then I understood. This was about revenge, and I had a pretty good idea who was behind it. But a chill ran through me when I realised it was more than that. This was personal. This was about hurting me specifically, and the others were just collateral damage, caught in my mess simply because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Zee, Gwyn, Hannah, Lady Sarah, and now Amy. They were here simply to add to the torment I was meant to suffer. Whoever died as part of my punishment; that blood would be on my hands, regardless of how they died. And then there was Amy’s blood which was literally on my hands, and the terrible knowledge that I couldn’t stop it, no matter how hard I tried to stem the bleeding. Her life was leaking through my fingers and I felt utterly powerless in the face of her mortality.
My roars of rage became howls of sadness and grief, as though I could call her essence back into its earthly vessel and keep her tethered to the mortal realm. But if it were that easy, Fiona would never have died that fateful morning after the full moon, and the dungeon would never have been built to punish me for that tragic death in the first place. Amy would be safe at home and I’d probably be with Lady Sarah and Selina, figuring out what to do next about the whole being sentenced to execution problem, and how to convince Ulfarr of my innocence.
Footsteps sounded in the passage behind me. I cocked an ear in their direction but didn’t turn round, too caught up in emotions I’d never expected to feel again. The thought crossed my mind that the corpses might have risen once more, but it didn’t seem all that important then. I was too intent on trying to preserve what little life my sister had left, refusing to believe it was already too late. She was fading fast, her breathing shallow and her heart growing weaker, but as long as I could hear those two vital functions I convinced myself there was still hope, no matter how slim. Somehow I’d find a way to save her, if I could just keep the pressure on her wounds and make the bleeding stop.
I was vaguely aware of a new scent coming from the passage but the smell of fresh blood was too overwhelming, and I struggled to pick anything else out. The hunger still yearned to answer that tantalising call with tooth and claw, ripping flesh from bone until finally it quietened with the satisfying sensation of a full belly. I fought the urge, letting myself sink deeper into the sadness instead.
Only when the owner of the footsteps strode into view did I look up, sadness turning to anger once again.
“You,” I snarled.
“All right, me old chummer. Did you miss me?” Gwyn said. His smile felt out of place in the tragic moment we were caught in.
“How did you get in here?”
“Same way as you; how else?”
“You’re working with them, aren’t you?”
His smile faded and there was something in his eyes. Hurt maybe? Irritation? “I’m a prisoner here, same as you, Nick.”
I really wanted to argue and press him for answers, like how he’d managed to escape the undead horde when he’d shown no evidence of being anything more than the feeble human my senses perceived him to be. Even if the door I’d come through had opened for him as well, he’d still have had to fight his way through the walking corpses to reach it, just as I had. And yet, he’d admitted himself he was currently too weak to fight.
Maybe the Slayers’ necromancer had called the zombies off and allowed him to walk through the passage unharmed? Or perhaps he’d never been in any danger to begin with – if he wasn’t a target the walking dead might simply have ignored him, focusing solely on those of us they’d been ordered to attack. I found these possibilities much more likely, and my distrust for him grew as a result. Come to think of it, I hadn’t heard the door open. But I had been focused on more important things. I supposed it was possible I just hadn’t noticed it.
My doubts grew further still when I realised Gwyn didn’t appear to be injured. His clothes were bloody so maybe he’d healed the damage, but if the Slayers were deliberately trying to weaken us then I thought that unlikely, too. And again I remembered how he’d admitted himself that he was currently weak. There was something off about the situation and my rage demanded answers. But in the end my grief won out. My suspicions could wait – Amy’s life was more important, what precious little was left of it.
“It seems we got off on the wrong foot, or should that be paw?” Gwyn said, changing the subject. His smile was back in place. “I see this human is important to you – I can help.”
“How?”
“Well you might not want to admit it, but I think we both know she’s done for unless she gets some medical intervention of the human kind, sharpish,” he began, raising a hand to quell my anger. “Or, there is one other thing that could save her – witchcraft. And lucky for you, the Slayers just happen to have a witch stash
ed away down here.”
“Selina?” I asked, hope rising and driving back the rage, though not before it made me add “How could you possibly know that?”
“All in good time, mate. I mean, it’s not like time is of the essence or anything – she’s only BLEEDING OUT,” he said with more of his annoying sarcasm, putting emphasis on the last two words. “So do you want to save the girl or not?”
“Okay, take me to the witch,” I growled. “But sooner or later you will give me some answers.”
“Null sweat, chummer.” He tore a strip off his shirt and handed it to me. “Here, tie this round her waist to help with the bleeding while you’re carrying her.”
The material was filthy but Amy was going to die of blood loss much quicker than infection, so I did as he said. It was something of a challenge with clawed hands. My nails kept getting in the way and my fingers struggled with something so delicate as tying a firm knot. Gwyn looked like he was about to step in when finally I succeeded.
Amy had grown so pale, she could have passed for one of the undead herself. Even if Gwyn was telling the truth about Selina (and I assumed it was her – who else could it be?), a part of me couldn’t help but think it would be too late by the time we reached her. I suddenly wished I’d paid more attention to the lesson Lady Sarah had given me on first aid out in the wilderness, and how to make use of natural resources to tend to wounds.
She’d shown me how to stitch a cut using the tendons of an animal with a needle fashioned from wood. If only I’d followed the lesson more closely, I might have been able to donate some of my own tendons as thread and perhaps a piece of bone to make a needle, healing the damage with the power of the transformation. But I’d been too intent on finding a way to satisfy my need to kill at the time. I daren’t attempt any sutures without knowing what I was doing, in case I made things worse.
There was no way out of the chamber as far as I could see: no obvious doors to open at the far end of the room, or in either of the adjoining walls. Yet somehow Gwyn knew just where the exit was located and the hidden button to open it, by some means I couldn’t fathom. If he wasn’t working with the Slayers, how did he know so much about our prison? I supposed he could have been down here longer than either me or Zee, but I doubted the Slayers would have allowed him to wander too freely and learn his way around.
Zee – I’d almost forgotten about him after the accident with Amy, and Gwyn’s sudden appearance. I didn’t hold much hope that he was still alive, or surely he’d have come through to this passage along with the Welsh man. Mentally I added it to my list of questions for Gwyn, as soon as he’d led me to Selina.
A voice crackled into life through speakers I hadn’t noticed. It had been over a year since I’d last heard it and yet I recognised it instantly, confirming my suspicions as to who was the mastermind behind this elaborate kind of retribution they’d devised for Fiona’s death.
I’d felt a sense of shock when I’d first realised who it must be. Or maybe that was just the shock from finding out my sister was real and dying from mortal wounds, coupled with the sight of the shrine to the girl I’d once called friend, before my lupine half had named her prey. I shouldn’t have been surprised he’d go to such lengths to have his vengeance though, considering he’d been pointing a gun at me the last time I’d seen him.
I’d thought that would be our final meeting but I should have known it would eventually come to this. He’d already decided back then I was a monster in need of putting down, not just as payback for the girl he’d loved, but to save more innocent lives. It was perhaps inevitable the Slayers would eventually find him, or perhaps he’d found them. I might never have predicted the way in which he’d seek revenge (though in a way it made sense, given what he knew of my past), but I should have known he would come looking for it someday. And it would only end when one of us killed the other.
“No!” David’s voice screamed through the speakers. “I thought you said he wouldn’t be able to resist eating her if we starved him for long enough?”
He seemed to be talking to someone in the control room I imagined them to be in, hiding behind their computer monitors while their pawns attacked and tormented us. I got the impression he hadn’t meant to speak over the tannoy system, perhaps accidentally pressing the button to activate it in his anger.
“I said he’d probably lose control to his base instincts if he was hungry enough, especially after the temptation of human prey he wouldn’t dare touch for fear of some kind of a trap,” a second voice answered, also male but not one I recognised. “What does it matter? Even if he proves stronger than we expected, she’s still going to die anyway.”
So Hannah had been brought in merely to add to our torment, just as the other Slayers seemed to have been when they’d allowed us to ‘escape’ into the base. Did that mean the human girl was safe to eat? Not that it mattered if she was dead, which, like with Zee, I had to assume she was.
“She better die,” David said. “Or you’ll be joining them.”
It seemed my inner darkness had infected my old friend, festering away in the months since he’d last faced the monstrous side to my nature until his grief and anger had consumed him, and he’d fallen into the void, just as I had. His words called out to the darkness in me; twin parasites seeking to manipulate their hosts into violence, all so they could feed on the resulting bloodshed. I’d become so used to living in that darkness that I didn’t resist when it spilled into my mind, washing away all concern for Amy and leaving only aggression and murderous intent.
Despite the promise I’d made to myself that I was done with killing in cold blood, I welcomed the feeling of falling back into the bloodlust. Everything became so much simpler in this brutal mindset, my world narrowing down to the need to spill blood, and the potential victims who might serve that purpose. Revenge was all.
“I already promised you death before I knew who was behind all this,” I snarled, stalking over to the nearest camera. “Don’t think any friendship we once had will save you, David. If my sister dies, I will have vengeance. I will take everyone you have ever loved until the pain you felt for Fiona is but a distant memory in the face of such fresh, raw wounds I will deal whatever’s left of your soul. And only when your heart is bleeding and broken beyond all repair, only then will I deal you your own death. A slow, agonising death, so you can feel the kind of physical pain you’ve put me through in this place. You can hide behind your cameras and your men, but it won’t save you. I will have vengeance, whether I make it out of here alive or not. Even the Reaper won’t stop me if Amy dies.”
I had no way of knowing if he heard, but making that dark vow made me feel better. No response was forthcoming as I stood there with the rage blazing in my eyes, lips curled back to bare my bloodstained fangs in a snarl to back up my words. He had to know the meaning behind what I’d said at least, even if he hadn’t heard exactly what I was promising.
“That’s quite the temper you’ve got there, mate,” Gwyn said, his face uncharacteristically serious again. “Just be careful you don’t lose sight of what’s important.”
“Why, will you stand in my way?” I rounded on him. “Because I’ll kill you too, if I have to.”
“Oh, you werewolves. Gifted with an overabundance of claws and a lack of sense. The vampires are so full of themselves too. These people holding us captive have the means to see us dead, so perhaps we could stop our bitching and work together like SENSIBLE creatures of the night?”
“I’ve still to see any evidence that you really are one of us.”
“Nick, your sister is dying. Calm the fuck down and let me take you to the witch, so we can avoid the need to go on this bloody quest for vengeance in the first place. Focus on what’s important.”
The darkness receded, the bloodlust fading back into the depths of my being and the rage burning down to a smaller flame of anger, in place of the inferno it had grown to. I might have found him insufferable, but it seemed there was some wisdom hid
ing behind that deadpan sarcasm. He was right, I needed to concentrate on saving Amy before it was too late. I was too stubborn to admit that out loud though, so I merely nodded and grunted “Lead on.”
We walked on in silence, down the next passage. My suspicions for Gwyn and hatred for David gave way to memories of my sister, and all I could think of was the happiness our family had once known before my curse had snatched it from us.
I thought of the way Amy’s dizzy nature would entertain us through a family dinner, and that cute face she’d often worn whenever she was trying to get her own way. Our family might not have been perfect, we might have had our fair share of demons between us, particularly Dad, and I might have argued with Amy more times than I cared to remember, but there had been plenty of good times as well. And we’d been there for each other when it really mattered. Of all the heinous acts I’d committed as a werewolf, killing my own sister was the one thing I didn’t think I could ever truly recover from, accident or no. She had her whole life ahead of her, one that should be full of the happiness and laughter I remembered from our childhood, and I couldn’t forgive myself if she was denied that because of my sins.
I was barely aware of my surroundings as I prowled just behind Gwyn, carrying Amy’s limp body as carefully as I could manage. I almost crashed into him when he came to a sudden halt. An irritable growl rumbled deep in my throat, the thunder signalling the coming storm of my rage, building in the darkness of my being. It was cut short by the realisation of why he’d stopped.
“Now, I know what you’re thinking. But in case you hadn’t noticed, this is bad. Remember, it’s not just your life at stake this time.”
