It didn’t take long for Wesley’s mixture to take effect. His time tending the bar, combined with his wife’s medical back ground, always provided a surprise or two. The six of them who didn’t drink added more fuel to the fire to keep a wandering bear or mountain lion at bay, and walked over to the other side of the clearing.
Metal scratched against leather as Leone set his pack on the ground. He unpacked their equipment quickly. The little devils were impossible to get on once you lacked opposable thumbs. No more conversation, not even whispers, passed between them. They were all anxiously waiting for the change as they pulled their weapons of choice from the bag, removing everything but their small clothes.
First they each pulled thick, metal studded leather straps from the pack and wrapped them around each other’s necks. They looked ridiculous on a human counterpart, but a werewolf with decent throat armor lasted a lot longer in a fight. Their bestial instincts usually prompted a severe throat ripping as the primary form of execution.
Leone pulled his favorite weapon from the pack, a design they’d just figured out a month ago, and tightened the leather straps around his wrist. They couldn’t handle typical weapons once their hands shifted into wolf form, but they could tie leather straps to either paw, fixed to a pair of long silver needles. A few hits wouldn’t kill their victim instantly, but once it got into their system they wouldn’t be a threat in fight. They were easy to conceal beneath their fur as well, so their opponents wouldn’t see the strike coming.
It only took a few minutes for the moon to finally commence its nocturnal flight across the sky. Despite the evening chill, the white light felt warm as it caressed their flesh, prompting a deep bestial change. The dark shadows of the surrounding forest faded away as their eyes shifted to those of the night’s most powerful predator. The moonlight’s warmth left a very real heat as their skin sprouted thick winter fur. Their hearing intensified as well, tracking the movements of small animals along the clearing’s edge.
That concluded the pleasant part of the change.
Leone’s facial bones elongated into a snout, dragging his muscles along as if twisted by some medieval torture device. Then the change hit the rest of his skeletal structure. In moments they were all lying on the ground in agony, their bones stretching and pulling in obedience to the night’s call. Before his night vision, he watched his thumbs shrink and shift as his hands reclaimed their nightly paw shape. When the change was complete they stood on two thickly muscled legs, their torsos hunched forwards so far their claws brushed the grass.
This would be so much easier if we kept our thumbs, Leone thought, catching a loose leather strap in his teeth and pulling it tight. What’s the point of retaining our intelligence if we can’t even turn a door handle?
The rest of the pack finished their transformation as well, tightening each other’s straps and making sure their neck armor stayed put. They huddled together, breathing in each other’s scents. This was the best way to make sure they didn’t end up attacking each other during the night. Sight and hearing weren’t enough in the heat of battle, not with the internal animal constantly clawing at control.
The youngest one, Ben, took a step towards the townsfolk. His nostrils flared and ears twitching hungrily, only to retract his paw when the rest of the pack growled in warning. Those still getting used to the change sometimes let the inner animal take control accidentally, which is why they weren’t allowed to wander alone until at least a year after changing.
It was a risk he never wanted the townspeople to know about. That’s what I hate the most about this … change. Leone thought, suddenly my friends by the campfire look appetizing. With an effort he pulled his attention from the potential meal by the fire and started working his way towards the north edge of the clearing. The rest of the pack followed close behind.
Just as they entered the forest Wesley, his thick brown fur shifting in the moon light, grunted as he pawed at the base of a thick pine tree. They followed his nose, catching the scent of another werewolf, separate from the pack. After that the tasty villagers were easy to ignore. The inner beast was very territorial, and dealing with the competition took a high priority.
The trail was about a day old, jumping from rock to tree up the steep mountain side. They headed north, cutting through thick brambles and leaping across large boulders a normal human could only dream of traversing. Most packs hid out in the mountains, sticking to hideouts only their kind could reach. They were so few and far between though they usually didn’t get involved in territorial battles, but to protect their friends in the village Leone and his family wouldn’t hesitate.
Wesley took the lead, his knack for tracking scents and predicting his quarry’s movements guiding their paws as they worked their way up the side of the mountain. The scent thickened a bit as they landed within a ravine the other pack often used. It wound in between boulders as the trail headed upwards towards the mountain’s summit.
They hugged the shadows as they worked their along the trail. Their pace slowed now, letting their senses sift through the shimmering moonlight, small animals rustling in retreat and scents of their anticipated quarry further up the ravine. Cool night air, heavy with moisture, threatened to lull them into a false sense of security.
In the distance a few lanterns twinkled innocently. The mountain pines and low growing shrubbery shifted ritualistically as the wind surged across the summit and down into the ravine, driven by the tall cliffs on either side like sentinels protecting the summit from unwanted intruders. Judging by the bend in the tree trunks, like an army of hunchbacks forever bowing southwards, the wind always pushed down the ravine.
A few debris huts emerged into view and a couple other scents mixed with the scout’s, forcing them to stop and analyze the scene. The rank scent of rotting corpses smashed into their nostrils, drawing their attention to a mass of refuse at the entrance of the ravine. Nothing moved and all was suspiciously silent. Something else toyed with his senses, a scent he couldn’t quite place.
Perhaps they killed one of their pack mates, but then where are the rest of them? Leone thought, sharing a worried grunt with Wesley. Every wilder pack we’ve faced at least had the foresight to leave a lookout. Are they out hunting perhaps? I can’t imagine them sleeping once the moon changes them.
Four lamps on tall poles lit the edge of the ravine near the summit. As they neared the corpse, a few other scattered bodies emerged from the shadows. Foxes, rabbits, even a deer. Judging by their remains, some quite fresh, they weren’t sick or even spoiled by time yet.
Wesley huffed incredulously, inclining his muzzle towards the bodies lying in between the four lanterns on their poles. Yeah, you’re right, Leone admitted, it doesn’t make sense. Just the fact alone they could kill without eating, denying their instincts that much... Then there’s the reason why they’d leave food uneaten in the first place.
Pushing their muzzles into the grass they searched among the rotting corpses for any other suspicious scents. One stood out, but he couldn’t quite place it. It wasn’t naturally formed, that much was certain, perhaps a residue from a village a werewolf brought with him. The scent itself set his teeth on edge and made the beast within want to leave, sensing something was wrong. They all pushed through the pile in between the lamps before Leone realized what the scent was, hidden beneath the smell of rotting corpses.
Kerosene.
Four ropes sprang from beneath the grass and bodies with an audible twang as four figures in the darkness pulled with all their might, sending the four lanterns and their supply of combustible liquid, spilling down on top of them. Four flaming containers were easy to dodge with their bestial reflexes, but the twenty feet of soaked earth in every direction less so.
There was no time for strategy, they scattered. Leone and Wesley sprinted into the summit’s open clearing. Two others pulled back into the ravine which, like their two slowest members, burst into flame. Four werewolves sprinted from the edges of the clearing and behind their hu
ts, streaking towards them with feral howls. Claws ravaging the soft earth, Leone and Wesley took off towards the closest opponent before his pack could close in.
Black fur and a narrow muzzle flashed into view as the beast leapt forwards. Leone pretended to over lunge, leaving his throat exposed. His opponent, his feral instincts in full force, snapped his jaw around Leone’s neck. His teeth snapped against leather and metal studs, giving his eyes enough time to widen in surprise before Wesley torn his throat loose and hurled the inexperienced werewolf’s body into the fire behind them.
The rival pack’s charge hesitated. Instead of attacking right away, they circled in search for the proper opening, slowly tightening their noose of fur, claws and teeth. They were a perpetual blur of grey, black and brown blurs as they snapped at one of their victim’s extremities, only to pull back suddenly as they sought a better opportunity.
Behind the ravine’s crackling flames, howls of pain and snarls of combat filled the night. At least five or six then, Leone counted, now standing back to back with Wesley as they growled menacingly, it would take months to turn and control this many. How did such a large pack escape unnoticed for so long?
“Took you long enough to find us,” A throaty voice echoed from the biggest hut. A large werewolf, standing another three inches taller than Leone, strode into view. At his arrival, the other three stopped circling, waiting anxiously for the fatal order to attack. Now there wouldn’t be time to kill one before the others arrived. “It would seem your pack has lost some of its skill since last year.”
“Last year?” Leone answered carefully, feeling Wesley’s fur behind him standing on end, ready to leap into action. “You don’t look familiar. Pretty sure I’d remember a pyrotechnic with a bad flea condition.”
The other three growled threateningly at the insult, one even took a step forwards before the other two forced him back with dangerous glares. Disobeying the pack leader usually warranted death, and theirs still had not given the fatal order. The rival didn’t say anything for a moment, eyes alight with sadistic anticipation.
“I’ve come to claim my rightful place at the head of the pack,” The rival leader said, his voice cracking a bit with emotion. His paws flexed hungrily. “I’m here to avenge my father Leone.”
For a moment, even the raging fire behind them faded from Leone’s mind. His mind worked frantically to put together all the loose pieces. A trail they couldn’t follow, masked by fire. The hunters disappearing over the last few months, corresponding with this pack’s sudden growth. The rival pack’s ability to ignore the dead animals long enough for the corpses to mask the kerosene, using one bestial instinct to divert their hunger.
The battle for dominance.
“Jack,” Leone said slowly, feeling Wesley’s muscles tense behind him as he reached the same conclusion. “What have you done?”
“Without you here,” Jack offered vengefully, “I will add my followers to the pack and we’ll have a dozen strong werewolves at our command. No other pack can contain a force that large, especially with your armor designs,” he gestured towards Leone’s neck, “quite useful against a newly turned cub aren’t they? Too bad you let my father die before completing it.”
“He, like the rest of us, knew and accepted the risks before turning,” Leone said simply, “That’s why family members are turned cautiously and one at a time. There’s no way you can control so many for long. They weren’t prepared before you bit them were they? They’ll go wild and have to be executed eventually.” Jack’s other wolves paused at that comment, their eyes flickering towards their leader’s.
Jack waved the allegation aside dismissively, “I wasn’t prepared before hand, and I’m fine.”
“How did you even turn?” Leone demanded, “Your father was dead when we brought him home. He couldn’t have bitten you.”
“There are many ways to turn.” Jack explained, sharing a proud glance with his pack. “Ours binds us even more completely than your ‘family’ binds you. I cut my hand the day you brought me his dead body. Some of his blood mixed with mine. The next night, I changed.”
“Obviously that ‘connection’ you mentioned only runs one way,” Leone challenged, “you didn’t feel a single tinge of remorse when that pup died. You don’t care how many of these people you’ve taken die in your service, as long as you get to head the pack when you’re done. If there’s even a pack left.”
Jack’s followers snarled angrily, his cautions falling on deaf ears. “Fine then,” Jack snapped, “Once you’re dead the rest of the pack WILL follow me.” He nodded towards his pack, “Ki-”
A flaming furry corpse smashed into the werewolf on Leone’s right, drawing yelps and snarls from the surprised victim as the searing hot liquid leaked into his fur and ignited it. Next to the fire two limping werewolves hobbled their way; two more of his pack had survived at least.
Without another thought Leone lunged towards Jack, who pulled back cautiously, eyeing the chaos before him with a calculating expression. One of his pack mates cut between them, claws racing towards Leone’s eyes. With a grunt of disgust Leone blocked both his opponent’s paws with one arm, accepting the pain as they dug into his flesh. With his free arm he smashed his fist into the werewolf’s face, feeling the silver pin strapped to his wrist pierce flesh.
With a yelp of pain his opponent’s grip weakened, until Leone plunged his paw into his stomach, hip and throat as well. In moments, trace amounts of silver oxidized in his blood, preventing oxygen from transferring through his red blood cells to the rest of his body. He hit the ground confused and weak.
Stepping over the half-conscious body, Leone glanced behind him, making sure Wesley still protected his rear. This friend buried his own silver pins into the last opponent, ignoring its tearing claws as they drew a wide gash from his face. The third pack mate, the receptacle of the burning corpse, managed to extinguish himself just as Leone’s other two pack mates arrived.
Turning towards Jack, Leone interrupted his confused expression. “Silver pins,” he explained, “we’ll even risk dying from silver poisoning if it means protecting our family and the village.” He answered, “That’s why you can’t replace me, all you want to protect is your own agenda.”
Jack tried to flee, but Leone was already close enough for his silver pins to penetrate the rival’s back. They fell in a tangle of fur and pain, sprawling to a stop with Jack’s failing jaws wrapped around Leone’s right paw as he struck again and again with his left. Soon, his struggling ceased and his jaw sagged open.
For a moment, Leone just lay there panting. No snarls of battle echoed behind him. Wesley limped into view above him, watching his leader intently through his one good eye. “Looks like you were right,” he said grimly, eyeing Jack’s corpse, “He did come home. Just not for the reasons we’d hoped.”
“I never would have thought of using our blood to transfer the change,” Leone admitted, taking Wesley’s paw and pulling himself onto his feet. “perhaps we could use it in the future. So Jack didn’t die in vain.”
Wesley shook his head, “You saw how out of control they were. Jack didn’t even feel remorse when they died. The reason we keep surviving isn’t because of our numbers or because we use bites instead of blood.”
Leone nodded in surrender, “You’re right Wesley,” he admitted. He glanced at Jack’s contorted body, slowly receding back to his human form as the silver finished its work. Only one thing is strong enough to give someone control of the curse when they change. Even in Jack’s case the same foundation motivation applied.
The love for one’s Family.
There You Have It! My Opinion!
By Cambria Hebert
Title: Dirty Blood
Author: Heather Hildenbrand
Format: Paperback, E-Book
ISBN: 1461065712
Published: April 2011 by Accendo Press
Tara is a typical teenager making her way through high school, dealing with a not so nice girl and comin
g to terms with the fact that the guy she’s dating isn’t the guy meant for her. Her father died when she was a toddler, and she lives with her mother who practically smothers her with over-protectiveness.
While on a date with the guy who’s better off her friend, she decides she’s had enough of his football playing, no date showing, agent having ways. She tells him exactly what she thinks of him and then tells him to hit the road. Too bad that left her without a ride.
On her way to the bus stop she passes an alley where she finds a girl she thinks might need her help. When she gets closer the girl completely morphs into a snarling werewolf and attacks. Tara surprises herself by fighting back-and winning.
Once the shock wears off she finds herself looking down at the body of a dead girl-no longer a wolf. What just happened, and where does she go from here? A mysterious boy shows up and offers her answers and a ride. Little does Tara know that the minute she accepts his help her life will change forever.
I feel it is only fair to disclose that I am a werewolf loving woman. That’s right, I’m obsessed. When there’s a full moon I run out into my dark yard and wait for a furry hottie to come get me. Sadly, he hasn’t arrived yet, but when he does…I’ll be waiting.
Now that you know about my little obsession we can continue.
I consider myself a werewolf connoisseur (hey, if people who love wine can be wine connoisseurs then I can be one of werewolves). There are some very strict guidelines that one must follow when writing a werewolf book. What are said guidelines? That’s for another time, people. I can tell you that Heather Hildenbrand followed these rules very well.
Dirty Blood has a really great plot. It was simple yet complex. There were layers to the story that unfolded as you read. When I got to the middle of the book I could not put it down, I was hooked. It is not your run of the mill werewolf story, but it still held firm to all the things we love about werewolves. What are those things you ask? I’ll tell you. One: they are badass fighters. Two: They can kill you-but won’t unless you deserve it. Three: deep down they are big puppy dogs. Four: They run in packs. Five: They like to eat meat. Now of course, there are exceptions…some werewolves are not very nice at all. This book has those guys too. Which, in my opinion, makes the good werewolves look even better.
Tara was a great character. She was strong and independent and never backed down from what she wanted. Curve balls came at her, and she faced them head on-even when everyone else tried to make her duck. She even stood up to those she loved when she thought they weren’t treating her the way she deserved. But you know what else? She was really likable. She had a good head on her shoulders, and she was nice.
Now, let’s discuss my favorite character in the book: Wes. This was one hottie of a werewolf. He was stubborn, pig-headed, over-bearing and his emotions ran hot and cold. What’s not to love? He needed a strong woman to tell him how it is. Too bad that Tara was up to the task cause I would volunteer for that job any day. Did I mention that he was hot? And that he drove a cool car? But seriously, he was a really well developed character, his life had not been easy and instead of being angry and hateful he was driven and focused. He had a sense of duty and honor that he adhered to even when that meant that he couldn’t have what he wanted.
The ending was satisfying, but still left enough for you to anticipate the next book, Cold Blood. And I am anticipating it. I can’t wait to read it. Also I would like to add, that the book was put together really well. At the back of the book you are given an excerpt and a short story to read. It was a nice bonus in the back of an already good book.
And let me also disclose that the second book will be having a character by the name of Cambria. That’s right, it’s me. I won the grand prize in a blog contest and now the author will be using my name in the second book. Very appropriate wouldn’t you say? Maybe just maybe….this girl might finally get her werewolf after all…..
So there you have it. My opinion.
There You Have It! My Opinion!
By Cambria Hebert
Literary Lunes Magazine: December 2011 Issue Page 14
