Werewolf Mage 4

by Harry Nix

  “Some of Wind’s pack are angry werewolves, but I don’t think it's their fault. I’m not sure they have a good leader.”

  “Yeah, the dude’s crazy. The sooner he goes, the better off everyone is,” Jacob said. Alex hadn't really intended to gossip about other werewolves, but he realized what Jacob said was true. Simak and Darius seemed to at least get along, their packs more harmonious. But Wind’s wasn't and the alpha werewolf himself felt like a dangerous lunatic. Sure, he wasn't at the fortress, but Alex imagined that if he returned he would walk around growling at other werewolves and asserting his dominance.

  “Maybe we should get some food at the Grease Trap,” Alex said.

  “Excellent idea, driver, yes, to the Grease Trap, James,” Jacob said, putting on a posh accent and waving his hand. Alex searched for something to throw at the kid, but there was only a screwed-up paper bag that once held a sandwich. He grabbed it and tossed it anyway. The werewolf hit it back, like it was a volleyball.

  They were a bare ten minutes away from the fortress when Alex spotted a black van following them. He took two random turns and the van stuck to them like glue.

  “Do we get to kill some mages?” Jacob asked, looking behind them.

  Alex turned a corner and then the car was upside down, spinning through the air, a shock of pain running through his legs and back, feeling like they'd been kicked from beneath by a giant. He shifted to hybrid form instinctively and heard Jacob yell before the car smashed to the ground. There was a blink of black then before Alex became aware of his wrists burning in pain. He found himself staring at a chip of stone, lodged in the corner of what was clearly a jail cell.

  Alex blinked and came back to himself, finding that he was hanging by his wrists, his shoulders and arms screaming at him in pain. He was in human form, naked, with no rings, dangling in a small damp cell with a thick iron door.

  There was a small pool of sticky blood at his feet, and as Alex looked down, he realized it was from him. He had countless tiny wounds running down his torso and his legs. Although his feet hurt, he managed to put enough weight on them to take some of the pressure off his arms and shoulders.

  He looked up and saw that one of his wrists was blackened with soot, and he was burned. The other was discolored, and he guessed that this was a standard pair of mage cuffs, one that heated and burned while the other froze should he attempt to use magic.

  Alex pulled up his spell screen and saw that his natural mana was down at a quarter and stuck there. He couldn't regenerate it while he had the mage cuffs on.

  For a moment, Alex thought about calling out for Jacob, hoping that perhaps he was in an adjoining cell.

  Before he could do anything, the door swung open and four masked men entered. They were dressed in all black and carrying baseball bats.

  He didn't have a chance to speak before they laid into him. They focused on his torso and his ribs, standing around him in a circle and hitting him as hard as they could. Alex gasped for air as his ribs snapped.

  One man hit him hard enough to shatter his bat. He gathered the pieces in silence before returning with a replacement to continue the beating. At some point, Alex passed out and then came to, finding himself being injected with something that was like fifty shots of espresso all at once. His heart was thudding like crazy.

  The men went to work on his legs, and this time, as his knee smashed, Alex couldn't pass out. Whatever drug they dosed him with was keeping him conscious. By the time they finished, one of Alex's legs was badly broken and the other one was fractured in multiple places. The agony of it was unbelievable, but he had to put his weight on it, otherwise the pain from his arms and ribs was unbearable.

  Finally they left, slamming the door behind them as darkness washed over Alex’s mind again, overwhelming whatever they’d drugged him with.

  Alex wasn't sure how much time had passed when he came back to consciousness. There was a sharp stab of pain in his lung that brought his body back to full awareness. The men had dealt him a fatal wound and he had the sickening feeling of drowning. He opened his spell screen, and then looked up at his wrists. The hand that had been torn off by the old lady still had a few flakes of metal around it, and when Alex cast Know Thyself, sometimes it had a +1, representing an increase in strength.

  Alex hoped that meant it would be able to withstand what he was about to do. Concentrating on the flame shield spell. Alex opened up the screen then realized he didn't even have enough space to compress it over on itself. He’d have to get rid of something to do that. Without hesitation, he deleted shock shield, knowing that when he got out he could copy it again from one of his own rings.

  So far the mage cuffs hadn't activated, but the moment he brought up two copies of flame shield and began mentally compressing them together, the one on his left wrist began to heat and the one on the right began to chill. He compressed the spells onto themselves and then did it again, twice, four times, eight times, sixteen times.

  Alex couldn’t be thankful for it, but there was some blessing in having agony in every other part of his body. It made it difficult to concentrate on new pain. His wrist was sizzling now, the flesh burning against the mage cuff, while on the other arm, a deep chill was biting, stretching down from his wrist.

  Alex kept folding—four, eight, sixteen, thirty-two, sixty-four—and then he focused on the death mana. It always seemed the most powerful to charge the flame shield with. Before he could think about it, Alex cast the spell, drawing on the death mana.

  It was consumed in an instant, and Alex screamed as one mage cuff became white-hot and the other felt as though it dropped to absolute zero. He buckled, unable to hold his weight, and the agony increased tenfold. Barely aware of what he was doing, he drew the pain mana, adding it to the spell as the flames from the shield burst out around him, first red and then white-hot. The temperature in the cell increased rapidly but Alex couldn't feel it.

  He suddenly found himself on the ground and the flame shield spell canceled. His vision swam as he looked down at the ends of his arms. He had one charred and blackened stump, and the other was frozen over, both hands cut off.

  Through his agony, Alex cast healing flame, but it refused to work. The spell was tied to a finger and his finger was currently on a hand that was disconnected from his body. Alex managed to roll to his knees, each movement a world of pain, and saw his hands. The one that had been burned off was blackened and smoking. The one that had been frozen was looking better, but the wrist was frosted over. Alex crawled over to his frozen hand and, reaching down, placed the frozen stump against it. With the heat of the flame shield it had already started to defrost and there was a slick surface of wet blood.

  Praying the connection would be enough, Alex tried casting healing flame again. There was a roar of pain down his arms and then the magic connected and the flame appeared at the end of his finger.

  Alex had to contort his fractured leg around to touch the flame. Every movement was agony and the drowning feeling was making his vision swim. The flame touched his foot and immediately went to his frozen wrist, growing a thin bridge of cells that soon thickened.

  Free of the cuffs, he drew on the last dregs of sex magic he had and also pain. Once his wrist was repaired somewhat, the healing snapped to his lung. The pain intensified as it repaired his wounds and Alex found himself unable to stop drawing mana through it, drinking deeply of the sweet agony.

  Eventually he crawled over to his charred hand and pushed the blackened stump against it. For a while, the magic ignored it, jumping about his body repairing broken bones and internal injuries. Alex eventually had to scratch at it, to bring forth new blood, and then do the same to his charred hand before the magic finally got what he was trying to do and reconnected.

  Cells grew and strengthened. He had his hands back but both were numb, as though they weren’t there at all.

  Soon, the pain faded, and with it, Alex’s access to a flood of mana to heal himself. He ran out entirely. He trie
d to reach for nature, but wherever he was, it was far from anything living, deep in some hole. There were only the slightest hints of it, molds and other such things in the stone, and they were no better than a slight trickle.

  Alex’s natural mana hovered near zero, and the healing flame spluttered out and he had to wait for it to regenerate before he could apply it again. At some point there was a deep pain in his head, and he realized an injury had been repaired as his thinking cleared and he was finally able to look around. The wooden door had been charred by the heat of the fire shield, but no one had come running. His captors either didn't care or had abandoned him. Alex knew he couldn't stay there but he was still terribly injured.

  He waited until his natural mana filled a little more, and then, with a grimace, shifted to hybrid form. He felt the healing speed up and some of his wounds ease.

  Alex got to his feet and approached the door, pressing his ear to the charred surface. On the far side, all he could hear was the faint sounds of a distant television, sounding like it was showing a soccer match. As carefully as he could, Alex wedged his claws into the edges of the door and pulled. The lock gave way easily, and Alex cautiously emerged into a small stone corridor with a single door at the far end. As he crept down it, he let his senses roam, trying to pull on the natural magic, urging it to fill so at least he could cast a shield spell.

  He stopped before the door and became aware that the four men were on the other side. They were watching television, as though they hadn’t just been torturing him.

  Alex had enough for a shield spell at least but it wouldn't last long. If he waited a little more he might be able to get a fireball, but it would only be one and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to throw it straight.

  He flexed his fingers, seeing that between two hands he only had five claws left. The others had been torn out, burnt, or frozen.

  Before he could second-guess himself, he cast shield and pulled the door open, diving into the room in a whirlwind of fury.

  He stabbed the first man through his throat, killing him instantly, before slashing at the next one, who’d tried to dive away, catching him with a mortal wound. A spray of blood jetted into the air as the man crashed to the floor. One of the others still had a bloody bat beside him and managed to swing it but missed. Alex shoved him, smashing him into a wall, his head leaving a bloody mark. The final one went for a gun that he was wearing on his hip, managing to fire it. The shield spell, already weakening, could only slow it. It hit Alex in the shoulder but then Alex was on the man. Two great slashes and his throat was gone, leaving him gasping and gurgling on the ground as his idiot body continued to live for a moment more.

  Alex growled as he checked the bodies. Three were dead and the fourth, who he’d smashed into the wall, was coughing blood. He gasped for a few seconds before dying. For a moment, Alex considered pounding on his chest, trying to keep him alive so he could get some answers, but then a wave of dizziness washed over him. Even if he had enough mana to cast healing flame on the man, it would be risky in Alex’s weakened state.

  He checked the room. It was sparse, with four chairs, a small bar fridge, and a simple table with a television. It was indeed showing a soccer match, although the glass was now splattered with blood.

  Alex listened carefully see if anyone else outside the room had been alerted, but there were no sounds of alarms. He was either undetected or this was it.

  Alex waited a little longer until he had enough mana to cast shield again, then he crept out the other door. He found himself in an abandoned building that looked far more rundown than his prison cell. It was dry and hot in the building and some of the walls were rusted through. Alex crept over to one of them and looked out, seeing dirt and dead weeds.

  He was halfway out the hole when he felt the Great Barrier hit him. He shifted back to human, groaning with pain as he did, toppling to the ground.

  From the ground he could see a rusted gate. There was a homeless man walking along, muttering to himself. From the look of it, he was in an abandoned industrial estate.

  Alex dragged himself up and climbed back through the hole. In the room of the dead he salvaged pants and a black t-shirt from them, the dark color hiding the blood, as well as a pair of shoes. While he was there he opened the bar fridge, finding it stocked with a few bottles of water, which he took and gulped down. He was tempted to take the gun with him but he had no way to hide it and the bats were slick with blood.

  Alex eventually crept out of there, making his way to the gate. With no idea where he was, he picked a random direction and started walking. Between the heat and his exhaustion, soon he was stumbling along in a trance, barely aware of what he was doing.

  “You’re back,” a werewolf said and touched him on the arm. Alex didn’t have the strength to react. He looked up, seeing it was one of his new pack members.

  “Your name?” Alex slurred before falling to his knees.

  Things went blurry then. He felt the glow of healing flames and then he was in a bed, his wives fussing around him.

  The last conscious thought he had before he sank into sleep was why would someone bother to torture him, rather than just killing him outright?

  20

  It took three days for the feeling in Alex's hands to return, both coming online with a sudden cold rush of pins and needles that was so sharp it hurt. He was sitting in the office by that point, looking at piles of unenchanted rings and trying to push himself to get to work on them, but most of his body was throbbing like an infected tooth. His wives had worked on him as best they could, and when Alex came out of his daze, he’d cast healing flame on himself. The bullet in his body hadn’t been spat out but seemed to have been pulled to pieces. Now Alex had gray flecks around both wrists and dotted randomly on his body.

  Despite the agony of it, Alex was more puzzled than furious. The men who had taken him could have murdered him, but hadn't. Was it a message? And why would you bother sending such a message when it surely invited revenge?

  Jacob thankfully had survived. He’d been knocked out in the accident and awoken to see four masked men dragging Alex into the black van. Jacob had used his healing flame ring to recover, and then made his way back to the pack who had immediately set out searching for Alex.

  It had all taken place within the span of a single day, a matter of hours actually, although Alex could have sworn it was longer. Yesterday he had gone out with ten of his pack to try to retrace his steps to see if he could locate where he'd been kept a prisoner. Alex had an excellent sense of direction, but they just couldn't find the rundown building and didn't come across a ward pushing them away either.

  Juno had cast cleanse to destroy his blood so weredogs wouldn’t be sent after them and had, like his other two mates, spent the last three days at a near furious boil. The chaos witch was having the worst of it. Her magic kept lashing out, freezing tables and the room she was in. In one instance, a kitchen chair disintegrated into splinters, and Juno bolted out of the house with Nia close behind her. Alex knew that chaos magic could take more than one form but it was surprising to see a chair reduced to fragments in an instant.

  It seemed that Juno had taken her own kidnapping in her stride, but now that it was Alex, she was beyond furious, unable to control her anger. April had gone the other direction, into a kind of scary calm, spending most days brewing up potions, using some newly bought equipment to distill them and fill bottles. Nia seemed to have fallen into a support role, trying to keep Juno calm but all the while flexing her claws and talking to Alex about bloody revenge.

  It had only been yesterday, very gingerly, that Alex had managed take Juno to bed again. Which he’d thought would calm the chaos witch down somewhat, but today she seemed twice as furious, as though the connection made reminded her of what she could have lost.

  Alex picked up a ring and was halfway through enchanting it when Nia came sprinting into the factory, shouting at the top of her lungs. She hit the door of the office hard enough to n
early tear it off its hinges before crashing into the room. Alex had already shifted to hybrid form in alarm and was grabbing rings.

  “Weredogs and mages. Like, a thousand mages and easily two hundred weredogs, all of them north, on the outskirts, and coming this way,” Nia gasped. She barely got to finish her sentence before Jeremiah came sprinting in. He managed to slow himself before he got to the office, his claws scraping long marks on the concrete.

  “One of the werewolves was out scouting around, and discovered a huge gathering of mages and weredogs. They’re twenty miles away on the outskirts and they’re clearly pushing in this direction, I think looking for a ward. It's Corvus, pain mages, and he definitely saw some vampires too,” Jeremiah said.

  Alex swore and looked back at the box with the enchanted rings in it. Sure, all the adults in his pack were now equipped, but there were so few of them. There were still werewolves stationed at the fortress but there was no way their tiny number could do anything against a thousand pain mages, two hundred weredogs, and vampires.

  Alex turned back to Nia and Jeremiah.

  “Do we abandon and run? Maybe we go to the fortress?” he asked.

  “At the speed they’re moving, we might not make it. We could call the fortress werewolves here, and if we’re incredibly lucky we might have a chance. But even so, most of the pack will probably die today,” Jeremiah said.

  Nia suddenly slashed the door, scoring lines across it with her claws.

  “This is our territory. We can kill them, every last one of them. Lure them into abandoned homes and rip their throats out. We can't be forced off our territory again,” Nia snarled. Alex felt the pull of her bloodlust. It was always her that he responded to most. When she shifted she could pull him along quite easily, her blood calling to his. On the other side he had Jeremiah, not afraid but calculating.

  Alex knew he didn't have long to think it over, but then he realized there might be a third way. They could do both things, retreat but attack at the same time. After all, Nia was right. This area was full of countless abandoned factories and warrens of ruined homes. There were normals spread throughout it, peppered thin but enough to trigger the Great Barrier which would hurt any mages coming to attack them. There were also countless ways to escape.