by Cheree Alsop
“Get away from him,” Aleric told the werewolf.
The werewolf bared his teeth in a snarl. Instead of answering in words, he growled with enough threat in his tone to send a warning chill down Aleric’s spine.
“He won’t talk to you,” the Chosen said with happiness in his voice as though he enjoyed the increased tension the sight of the werewolf induced. “For all I can tell, he’s mute aside for the growling and howling. He won’t reason with anything besides an order to kill. That’s something he does very well.”
“You’re responsible for the body in the alley,” Aleric said flatly.
“You only found one?” the Chosen replied. “You’re going to have to search harder than that.”
Aleric took a step forward.
At a snap of the Chosen’s fingers, the Fervor rose to their feet. They blocked Aleric’s path with hands raised and hatred in their eyes.
“I wouldn’t do that if I was you,” the Chosen said. “My family takes any threat to their god very seriously.”
“You’re not a god, you’re a murderer,” Aleric growled.
“Among many other things,” the Chosen replied. “Yet we’re a very happy family here. You could join us, you know. Imagine how much damage two werewolves could create instead of just one? Join the Fervor; worship me. You’ll find the experience quite enlightening.”
Aleric kept his gaze on the Chosen through the rows of humans. “The police are arriving,” he said. “Give me Lilian and your following will survive another day.”
The Chosen let out a laugh that resounded off the walls. “You think I care about lives? My following doesn’t care about their lives. They know that by obeying me, they will ascend from this life to their reward.”
“I don’t think what they’ll find is going to be very rewarding,” Aleric replied, thinking about his experiences with Death. “Bad deeds don’t get you very far.”
“That depends on who does the judging,” the Chosen replied.
Several sirens sounded behind Aleric.
“That’s my cue,” the Chosen said. “We’ll have to discuss your own ascendency some other day. I assume it will be an amusing conversation. For now, I’m taking my pet and your girl. I have plans for her that are far larger than your single selfish desires, Dr. Wolf. If you survive, maybe you’ll live to see why.” His next words came out with the bark of command. “Fervor, kill him.”
The crowd surged forward. Aleric fought to keep the Chosen in sight, but there were too many Fervor. He saw one last glimpse of the man and the werewolf before they disappeared from his view.
Clawing, kicking, and biting clan members with dull expressions and quick reflexes swarmed Aleric. He felt as though he was caught by a horde of zombies from the Drake City Wash. Each punch he threw dropped a Fervor, but two more took their place. Several carried knives and clubs. Though he blocked and attacked with the speed of a werewolf, even his strength couldn’t protect him from getting stabbed and hit. There were just too many of them to defend against. Panic filled Aleric. If the police officers opened the doors, they would be swarmed by drugged, volatile clan members whose only goal seemed to be killing him because their Chosen had told them to.
A bat hit the bullet wound in Aleric’s arm. Instead of retaliating by tearing the woman’s head off, a strange sort of calm settled over Aleric. He was in the middle of a warehouse full of crazed people who endangered the lives of the citizens of Edge City. If he was their target, he was going to take as many of them down with him as he could. The fewer Fervor members left to roam the streets, the better. And if Dartan insisted that he fight them with emotion, he would be darn sure those he took down survived to cry about it to the justice system they had wronged.
Aleric caught a club before it could hit him. He tore it from his attacker’s hand and slammed it against another man’s jaw. The Fervor fell to the ground. Aleric hit two more, then ducked and spun, knocking the legs out from the clan members around him. He rose and took out three more by swinging the bat as it was intended. He threw the bat at two women who ran at him with knives raised. They fell into a man wielding a table leg.
A pair of scissors stabbed into Aleric’s thigh. He knocked the woman out with a backhand. He tore the scissors from his leg with a curse and threw them at another attacker. The man screamed, clutching the scissors in his shoulder.
Aleric fell into a strange rhythm, punching, blocking, backhanding, and blocking again to protect himself against the worst of the attacks. Hits got through, but his were harder. The bodies fell around him and moans of pain filled his ears; still the attackers kept coming.
Somewhere behind him, he heard the door open.
“Flank Dr. Wolf,” the Commissioner’s deep voice ordered. “Give him some cover.”
Aleric was only half-aware that more bodies were on the ground than people attacking him. He had no idea how long he had fought. His limbs felt heavy, but he continued to defend himself with the dogged stubbornness of his wolf side. He refused to die for some Chosen’s cause. He would send as many of the Fervor to justice as he could.
Chapter Three
A hand touched Aleric’s arm. The werewolf turned with a snarl and raised the weapon in his hands. He couldn’t remember when he had gotten the table leg. Blood slicked the wood. He wondered if it was his or someone else’s.
“Easy, Dr. Wolf. It’s me, Ling.”
Aleric stared at the officer for a moment, his eyes wide and heart racing. He looked behind Ling to the shocked expressions on the faces of the officers around the room. Several hauled the conscious members of the Fervor out the door to the waiting cars. Others assessed those who would need to be transported by ambulance.
“I’ve never seen anyone fight like that,” Ling said, his words quiet and level as if he guessed the confusion Aleric faced. “Brute force instead of training. Come find me if you ever have some free time; I could hone your skills a bit.”
The werewolf’s free hand clenched and unclenched. He looked behind him. Those members of the Fervor still standing had dropped their weapons and stood along the hallway walls with their hands raised. Fear showed on their faces, their expressions all the more powerful given the green of the moss that colored their lips.
“You took down more of them than our entire precinct,” Officer Ling said. “We’re going to have to transport some of them south.” He grinned. “You have no idea how you’ve just impacted this city. They’re going to call you a hero.”
He patted Aleric on the shoulder. Aleric flinched at his touch.
The reaction didn’t seem to bother Ling. “Give me the table leg,” the officer said. He held out a hand. “It’s alright. Come on.”
Adrenaline still surged through Aleric’s limbs. He had a hard time pressing down the want to fight, the need to take down the other Fervor members, to show the Chosen just what would happen if he hurt Lilian further.
Ling’s voice was quieter when he said, “They’re watching, Dr. Wolf. Take it easy. Show them whose side you’re on.”
Aleric met the gazes of the Fervor members. As soon as he looked at them, they stared at the ground, their faces pale and hands shaking. He glanced behind him at the officers. Several followed his interaction with Officer Ling. Darold stood on the top step with his hand on his gun. Aleric knew the officer wouldn’t hesitate to use it if he felt any threat to himself or his comrades.
Aleric let out a slow breath. He forced himself to hand over the table leg to Ling despite his instincts that screamed that as long as there were Fervor standing, the fight wasn’t over. The officer’s smile faltered when he saw the blood that coated the wood where Aleric had held it.
“Dr. Wolf, you’re bleeding,” Ling said.
“I’m fine,” Aleric replied gruffly. “It’s nothing. I need to go.”
He waded through the semi-conscious Fervor members toward the door. Darold stepped quickly aside.
“We should have the EMTs check you out,” Officer Ling offered, following cl
ose behind. “It’s a precaution, really, but it couldn’t hurt.”
Aleric shook his head. “I’m fine. I need to get out of here.”
The Commissioner strode to intercept him before he could leave the warehouse, but Aleric pushed out the door. Blinded momentarily by the bright sunlight that was a stark contrast to the dim interior of the warehouse, Aleric paused and waited for his eyes to adjust.
“Dr. Wolf has just emerged from the warehouse where hundreds of members of the Fervor clan are currently being arrested by Edge City police officers.”
“Dr. Wolf!” a familiar voice said. “Can we ask you some questions?”
“Dr. Wolf, were your efforts key in tracking down the Fervor hideout?”
“Dr. Wolf, did you have any success in locating the Chosen himself?”
“Dr. Wolf, do you have any idea who’s behind the werewolf victims found around the city?”
Aleric’s eyes focused on Gayle. The reporter gave him a hopeful smile.
“Who said they were werewolves?” he asked.
“Are you denying that the killings are fae related?” another reporter pressed.
Aleric couldn’t think of a reply. The Commissioner was suddenly at his side.
“No more questions. We’re grateful for Dr. Wolf’s aid in bring members of the Fervor gang to justice. After debriefing, we will be available to answering more of your questions. Excuse us.”
The Commissioner led Aleric to the corner of the building. When they were out of sight of the reporters, Aleric leaned against the wall.
“Officer Ling says you refuse medical care.”
“I’ll be fine,” Aleric replied shortly. He couldn’t bring himself to meet the Commissioner’s gaze. Thoughts of the fight still waged in his head. He had never been in a battle like that before. His hands shook, whether from the fading adrenaline or from the battering they had taken, he didn’t know. His right arm felt sticky and heavy from the blood.
“I’d highly recommend heading to the hospital,” Commissioner Oaks said with concern in his voice. “I think you’re worse off than you know.”
“I’m fine,” Aleric repeated. He pushed away from the wall. His legs felt weak.
The Commissioner put a hand on his shoulder.
Aleric spun with energy fueled by the fight. It took all of his self-control not to defend himself against the Commissioner. Commissioner Oaks hadn’t done anything. He told himself he was just confused by the battle. He wondered if the emotions that thundered in his chest were what drove the Horseman of War to create chaos. It was a heady, bewildering sensation.
“I’ll heal,” Aleric said, backing away. “Thanks for the reinforcements.”
“It didn’t look like you needed it,” the Commissioner replied.
Aleric walked down the alley. He heard the Commissioner hesitate at the corner of the building, but the man had a job to do. He turned away, the scrape of his shoes loud as he faced the reporters once more.
Aleric didn’t know what part of the Fallows he was in. He gripped his arm to slow the persistent trickle of blood. He knew it wouldn’t heal until he had a chance to remove the bullet. A check revealed several stab wounds along his sides and stomach along with the wound from the scissors in his thigh. At least the shirt he had borrowed from the drycleaner was black and long-sleeved; it would hide most of the blood. He didn’t relish the thought of appearing weak in the darkest heart of the city.
As if in answer to his thoughts, a form detached itself from the wall ahead. Several more appeared from the alleys until six men blocked his path. Aleric lowered his hand and straightened his shoulders. The movement was more painful than he wanted to admit.
The thought of another fight fueled a part of him that startled Aleric. Anticipation filled his limbs. His hands, already covered in blood, clenched into fists of their own accord. The wolf inside raged, demanding for him to change form so he could teach them what it meant to get in a werewolf’s way. The want to hit someone was overpowering. It was a feeling Aleric had never felt before.
In Blays when his father used to beat him, he was four and too young to fight back. Living in the streets had taught him to be scrappy and to think quickly to get out of tight situations, but oftentimes those he found himself up against were much bigger, stronger, or had strength in numbers. With the Drakathan, there was no chance to fight back. He had been their prisoner, enslaved by the sacrifice that bound him to them. That helplessness, that curse, was something he had vowed never to feel again.
In front of him stood six men with eagerness in their expressions and cruelty in their eyes. Their knuckles were scarred and their faces bore the marks of those who had fought their entire lives.
“You lost?” one of the men asked with a twisted smile.
“We’ll help you find your way back,” another said.
Several chuckled, revealing golden teeth filling gaps in their mouths.
“We’re good with directions,” a man wearing a red bandana said. He took a step forward.
Aleric wanted to tear them apart. The need coursed through his veins. The fight in the warehouse hadn’t been enough, though the blood pattering to the asphalt at his feet said otherwise. He wanted pain to chase away the fear he had for Lilian, the agony he would feel if he lost her, and the loss he felt at the home the hospital had been for him and then taken away. He wanted pain to chase away the pain.
Yet he could kill them. He whispered to himself over and over again that he was a doctor, that he wasn’t supposed to do harm, he was a healer, he had a duty to see to the health and wellbeing of others. Yet that had also been taken from him, and it brought a different kind of pain.
“What’s that?” the first man asked. “You’re a doctor?” He grinned at his companions. “Doctors are rich.”
“Give us your wallet, Doc,” a skinny man with brass knuckles on both hands said.
“I don’t have a wallet,” Aleric replied. He couldn’t bring himself to look at them. To see their willingness to fight would only fuel his rage. He wouldn’t hurt them; he wouldn’t add bodies to those in the warehouse. Who knew how many of those wouldn’t survive to meet the justice they so deserved?
“Sure, Doc. We believe you,” the man wearing the bandana said with a taunting smile. He walked toward Aleric. “Most doctors don’t carry wallets. They just snap their fingers and whatever they want appears.” He shoved Aleric’s shoulder, hard. “Give us your money or die here in the street.”
The click of a locking blade sounded. Aleric glanced down to see a knife in the man’s hand.
When he looked back up, the man gave a low chuckle. “That’s right. It’s real now, isn’t it? Give us your money, or they’ll be scooping you off the street for your funeral. It wouldn’t be the first time.”
His last words were what set Aleric off. He could see memories of other victims in the gang members’ eyes, bodies cooling on empty streets, money being divided, and laughter echoing off the walls.
His fist flew before he realized what he was doing. It struck the man in the center of his chest. Aleric felt ribs break before the man flew across the next dividing alley. He hit the wall twenty feet away and fell to the ground where he slumped motionless, his head bowed.
Aleric heard the startled gasps and shocked breaths of the other men. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw them looking from him to their companion who had flown impossibly far and now lay unconscious against the wall.
Aleric lifted his head and met their gazes one by one. Each man took a step back, then another from the anger they saw roiling in his eyes. Aleric took one step forward and they ran. They paused only long enough to pick up their fallen member, then the street was empty once more. Only the sound of running footsteps left an echo in the morning light.
Aleric’s legs buckled. He sank to his knees in the middle of the street. His arm where the bullet had gone in bled freely. A check of his stomach and sides showed the other wounds doing the same. He felt the pushing need of the ani
mal to find somewhere safe to either recover or die. He had lost a lot of blood. The thought filled him with a warped brush of human irony. He was diagnosing himself, a rejected werewolf doctor with no hospital and no staff. Who was he fooling?
He pushed up to his feet and stumbled along the road. The thought of the hospital was foremost in his mind. Whether it was the thought of lifesaving equipment that drew him or the belief in the family he had there, he had no idea. All he knew is that when he finally stood behind the hospital staring at the back of the structure he had come to think of as home, he couldn’t bring himself to enter.
Aleric turned away, one hand on his arm, the grip weak, and the other on his stomach. If he could just find a place to rest, perhaps he could wait until the strength of the moonlight would encourage his body to heal. He felt exhausted. The thought of sleeping was a welcome one that urged his feet down the next street.
Annoyingly, the practical side of him pointed out that the wound in his arm wouldn’t heal with the bullet still in it. The need to take care of it had to surpass his want to sleep. If he slept without dealing with it, he risked bleeding to death. His wolfish instincts demanded for him to survive. If he didn’t have to tools he needed, he would have to improvise.
Aleric’s footsteps followed a path from his memory. Lilian had been at his side, leading him to a place she held dear, somewhere secret where nobody would find him. Aleric had nowhere else to go.
He pulled up on the fence slats as Lilian had done. Rising with a wince, he looked around at the beautiful secret garden. Its colors looked dim to his eyes although they were washed in the golden light of the sun high above. He made his way to the small toolshed hidden against the far wall. The thought that his shadow was stumbling in front of him made a wry smile touch his lips.
“You look like you’ve had a rough day,” he said to the shadow. He leaned against the shed door with a sigh. “I suppose I can relate.”
He pulled the door open and looked inside. A variety of gardener’s tools, clippers, twine, burlap sacks, fertilizer, a lawn mower, jugs of water, a red container of gasoline, several pairs of gloves, some small knives, and a table with general tools like a hammer and nails, wire, and wire cutters took up the space.
