Chapter One
The early May night was unseasonably chilly and more than a little bit humid, making the air itself lay on my shoulders like a cold, wet blanket. The night sky sparkled with a thousand stars spinning overhead as a bright crescent moon lit up the gloom. Night birds cried out at the indignity of our presence. I pulled my jacket tightly around my shoulders, the aged leather creaking wearily.
Greg was kneeling, his right hand holding a long oak staff with an iron cross at the top. His head was bent in supplication as he prayed for forgiveness for any sins he might be forced to commit in the coming hours. The huge cross on his tabard gleamed brightly.
All over his body weapons were evident: a spiked mace on his hip, a round shield on his back, bandoliers of throwing knives and bolos, daggers in his boots. As I watched, he finished his prayer and stood up. Reaching down, he pulled a steel helmet over his head, covering everything but his eyes and mouth. His deep brown eyes alert, he started scanning his surroundings.
Eric was putting the finishing touches on a circle of protection, and this was the real deal, full of ancient symbols and arcane letterings, smoking candles and lines of salt. Settling inside it, he held a large battered tome open on his crossed legs. His whispering voice carried over the sweet southern air, leaving me with hints and wisps of Words that gave me shivers.
Magick had always bothered me, I was grounded in science, in provable, measurable phenomena. Magick was wild and primal, only barely controllable at the best of times. Magick, by its very nature, broke all the laws and rules of science like a politician broke their campaign promises.
No matter how dangerous I felt it was, I had to admit, Eric was good. His magick had saved us many times, had found the answers we needed when science or faith couldn’t. Cerberus knew what it was doing when it created the Triads. Science, magick, faith, reality viewed from three different perspectives, all of them necessary to face the things that we faced.
It was ironic I was creeped out by magick, considering the fact I was a pyrokinetic. Don’t make the wrong assumption, I wasn’t some comic book mutant. I was a perfectly normal american teenage girl until I was a victim of a hit and run driver. I lay in a coma for 6 days and when I woke up, I had the ability to manipulate fire.
My own personal theory was the accident had affected whatever part of the human brain held back our true potential, that the brain damage had pushed open a door to the next step in human evolution. Or one step back and I was never quite sure about which prospect was more troubling.
My computer beeped, signaling that it was ready. Now, you need to understand. This wasn’t the average computer you bought at a box retailer, this computer was my own special design. You didn’t use this rig to look at cat pictures or keep up with your social networking. This computer was powerful and specialized enough to handle all the things working for Cerberus could throw at a person. It could land the Space Shuttle, if we still had any space shuttles. I started the tracking program and immediately it began collecting data from a sensor grid Greg had laid out during the daylight hours.
For decades, this section of rural North Carolina had been party to animal mutilations. Urban legend had attributed the attacks to escaped animals from the nearby zoo. A previous Triad had investigated and found nothing more than a few larger than average bobcats and thusly, had marked any reports in the area as natural phenomena.
Natural, until Dwayne Parsons had been attacked while riding his bike home. He remained hospitalized but as soon as he regained consciousness, he began screaming bloody murder about some giant monster attacking him. Cerberus had gotten wind of the situation and had called us in to investigate.
My computer urgently beeped again, drawing me out of my thoughts. I stared at the screen, reading the results of the search. I didn’t like what it said one bit.
“I’m reading evidence of a large life form somewhere between sectors three and four. And when I say large, I want you to understand my full meaning, I mean big, I mean enormous, I mean even Greg will feel intimidated.” I said, looking up at my teammates.
“I doubt it.” Greg replied with a knowing smile. “You have never met my ex-wife. If I wasn’t scared of her, I won’t be scared of whatever is out there.”
“Let’s see if we can draw it into the light. What else can you tell me about it other than “it’s big”?” Eric said.
“According to what I am seeing here, it’s not a ghost or spirit of any kind. My ectometer isn’t moving so it doesn’t disturb the aether like a non-corporeal being would. It’s definitely solid and warm-blooded.” I supplied. “The briefing that you two never read clearly stated that some sort of very large animal wounded the boy, claw marks but no bites.”
“So, big with claws and not a ghost? Some sort of large predator.” Eric said.
“It’s all I got boss.” He always hated it when I called him boss.
“It will have to be good enough. I think I know what I can do.” he said, grimacing at me while flipping through his tome. “Ah, here it is.”
He stood stiffly and began to read Words that were soft and seductive and made you feel like somebody was whispering dark secrets in your ear, secrets that would hurt you more than you knew. I shivered in spite of myself as they slithered around me, my skin puckering at the sounds entering my ears.
He reached into one of the multitude of pouches hanging from his belt and pulled out a handful of rose petals. Turning to face all four points of the compass he tossed the petals into the night air. His chanting ended abruptly and he sank back to the ground, momentarily exhausted. Spellcasting took a lot out of a person.
“So, what was that?” Greg asked. I couldn’t tell if the magick had affected him as much as it did me but his voice quavered slightly as he presented the question.
“That, my dear knight, was an open-ended geas.” he said, rubbing the bridge of his nose with two fingers. Realizing we didn’t understand a word of that, he grinned tiredly. “It is like a summoning, a siren’s call that will draw anything out there to us. I modified it a little to filter out the spectrum that would attract small creatures. Only something big and alive will feel its pull. All we have to do now is wait.”
“Waiting is my specialty.” Greg said, sitting against a nearby tree, his hands laced behind his head. “I majored in waiting at Knight school.”
A bone chilling howl echoed around us. It ululated sharply, forlornly, filling me with fear and fright, and oddly enough, regret. Whatever was out there was close and it was even bigger than my computer said it was.
“Whatever it is, it’s right outside the light. Circling us, trying to see what we are. It sounds…hungry.” I said as my computer screen flashed red and an alarm chimed.
“Calm down.” I hated when Eric told me to calm down. “Stick to your training. Greg, get ready.”
“I was born ready.” Greg drawled lazily as he rose to his feet. I could honestly say, I had never seen Greg afraid of anything. Of course, I didn’t say it as a compliment.
The alarm was still chiming, so I turned it off. I wouldn’t be needing my computer for this part of the assignment. Patting my hip, I felt the hard plastic of an industrial-grade stungun I had whipped up in the Cerberus labs last week. It was just like every other handheld stungun except it had four times the juice. At least, it was supposed to. I hadn’t fully tested it yet.
Satisfied, I dug around in my pocket and pulled out my trusty lighter. It was an antique brass job, a gift from my grandfather. I flicked it open and thumbed the wheel with a practiced motion. A tiny flame burst into life.
I could feel it, dancing in the air before me. It was the power of change, nature’s fury in all its burning glory. I reached out to the spark I felt, caressing it gently. As soon as it felt my touch, it swelled, growing and growing until it was a writhing mass of flame. I gestured sharply and the flame began to morph, becoming something terrifyingly familiar. I grinned and the shape split, becoming two towering figures. A sharp mental sum
mons from me and the flame beasts turned and marched slowly to my side.
I turned to look at Eric, to let him know I was ready. He was still sitting in his circle, his spell book open before him. His mouth moved silently as he memorized a spell. An adept like Eric could memorize a couple of spells that he or she could cast at any time without needing a source in front of them. It was quick and dirty and it took a lot out of the caster but Eric knew the prices he had to pay for his power.
Across the pool of light, Greg stood rigidly, his heavy staff held before him. His head was bowed, his eyes closed as he listened intently to the sounds our mysterious guest made in the darkness. The slight breeze changed directions and he tilted his head up to sniff the air.
“I know what’s out there.” he said just as all Hell broke loose.
It stepped into the light. My computer had been right, it was huge. Standing at least nine feet tall with broad shoulders and long powerful limbs, it paused as we stared at it in amazement. It had coarse brown and white hair, long and raggedy, sharp claws, vicious, yellowed teeth, and enraged golden predator’s eyes. It was a werewolf but it was more. It was an Alpha werewolf, death and destruction on lupine legs, leader of the wolf pack, and we had never faced its equal.
Members of a Triad trained exhaustively against all manner of supernatural threats, from vampyres to werewolves, from ghouls to goblins, angels to daemons and even against members of other organizations.
Yes, there were other organizations out there involved in the supernatural. Cerberus did has its rivals. The Ultranatural Society, specializing in things that were far beyond the scope of the normal world, Those-Who-Wait-in-the-Dark, crazed ritualists who awaited the return of the Elder gods, the Human Protection Cabal, quasi-fascist terrorists who hunted down and slaughtered anything that didn’t fit their narrow version of humanity and finally, Prometheus, Inc. the old firm, dedicated to making humanity more than human. Our training was extensive and exhaustive and none of it made us ready to face the monster before us.
Alpha werewolves were not your typical shape changers. They sat heavier on the fabric of reality than their lesser brethren. They weren’t swayed by the phases of the moon, silver barely slowed them down, and wolfsbane was one of their favorite party drugs. They were vicious and savage but even more horrifying, they were intelligent and calculating.
The wolf’s eyes showed that intelligence, more than just simple animal cunning, more than instinct. It knew us, knew what we were and it hated us. Its golden eyes scanned the three of us and I wasn’t afraid to admit my heart thundered in my chest when they passed over me. Greg’s spoke and the wolf swung its predator’s eyes to glare at him.
“His name is Terrell Bowden. He’s an ex-communicated Feral from the Shadow. He settled a few towns over under a Convention-sanctioned identity. He disappeared from his work at a body shop two weeks ago.”
“A rogue werewolf? Boring.” Eric grumbled.
“How do you know that?” I asked.
“You aren’t the only one who reads reports, red. If the Knights heard there was an Alpha werewolf on the loose in my jurisdiction and I wasn’t doing something about it, they would demote me back to squire so fast there would be burn marks on my tunic.”
“You’ll have more than burn marks on your tunic if you call me red again.” My eyes never left the wolf eyeing us and it didn’t matter one bit.
Faster than I could think, it surged across the clearing and lashed out at Greg. Moving almost too fast for a human, Greg whipped his staff up and expertly batted away the claws sweeping toward his face. Spinning on his heel, he thrust his staff at the wolf’s knee and a sickening pop carried to my ears.
Greg jumped back as the wolf’s leg buckled underneath him and an almost puzzled look came over its face. It stared down at its broken kneecap, snarled once, and a weird sequence of pops and creaks sounded. The wolf’s eyes found Greg and its mouth twisted into what could only have been a grin.
Without warning, the wolf crossed the distance between him and Greg again, slashing down with both of its massive and deadly paws. Greg, to his credit, jumped out of the way at the last possible instance, saving his guts from a quick trip to the ground below.
The move, however, left him wide open and the wolf didn’t hesitate to deliver a crushing backhand blow that slammed Greg into a tree. It spun on its heels and surged towards Greg’s crumpled form and at that moment, Eric’s voice sounded clear and cold in the night.
I couldn’t understand what he was saying. I could never understand what he was saying. The words he spoke were never meant for mortal ears, never meant to be heard by those who couldn’t fathom their meaning. They burned your soul, shook the very fiber of your being. The sound of them caused physical pain, affecting those who heard it. It was like sticking your imaginary finger in a mental light socket.
It wasn’t just pain though, these words also caused me to feel confined, as if the very air had scooped me up and squeezed the breath out of me. For all the discomfort I felt? The werewolf fared worse.
The force of Eric’s spell grabbed it up, lifting it off the ground in a bone-crushing embrace. It tried to howl but the only thing that escaped its muzzle was a pained wheeze.
Eric’s spell was so powerful, it was squeezing the air out of the wolf’s lungs through force of magick alone. It was as if the air around the wolf was at a higher pressure, like the bottom of the sea.
The wolf’s eyes flashed angrily and it began to strain against the force holding it. I glanced over at Eric and I could see him trembling as he fought to contain the rage of the monster in his grasp. A thin trickle of blood ran out of his nose, his eyes squeezed close at the strain, the muscles in his neck standing out like cords. Suddenly, the wolf violently tore through the magick that held it and sucked down a great lungful of air.
Eric collapsed inside his circle, the strain of his spell being broken sapping his body of vitality. The wolf moved towards him and slammed into an invisible field emanating from the salt circle Eric lay in.
This was a circle of protection like the ones of Olde, it prevented all sorts of magic and magical beings from entering it. Eric had modified the spell to include more mundane attacks from everyday weapons and dangers.
I had seen one of Eric’s circles hold back everything from a bullet to a low-level demon out for a joyride. Inside the circle, Eric was as safe as could be until or unless a more powerful magick happened along or his will faltered. Magick was all in the will.
Still, any barrier would eventually break if put under enough force for a long enough time. I couldn’t sit back and let the wolf tear down Eric’s circle, as difficult as that could be, or to turn its attention to Greg, who was still trying to figure out what tune the birdies circling his head were singing. I had to do something.
I gestured commandingly and my two fire golems starting trudging towards the beast. It must have heard them or felt their heat because it spun in place and snarled at them. My golems weren’t afraid of the wolf’s growl or teeth or claws for that matter. They weren’t afraid because they weren’t real, just facets of my power, figments of my imagination.
Under my command, they didn’t waver one inch in the face of the wolf. They surged forward and wrapped him in their fiery embrace. The wolf howled in agony and fear. The breeze carried the smell of burning fur and flesh. Oily, filthy, black smoke rolled through the clearing.
Unfortunately, this was no simple shapeshifter. This was an Alpha werewolf, the most dangerous of its kind, and no regular old flame was going to stop it. I could hurt it, but nothing as normal and natural as fire would do more than slow it down.
With as contemptuous a shrug as a giant burning werewolf could muster, my golems were thrown aside. To grab the wolf, they had to make themselves solid and if they were solid, it could touch them. With a more pathetic than I wanted to admit sound, the golems were extinguished.
The wolf looked at me, stared deep into my eyes, right into my soul. I could see it clea
rly for what it was, rage-induced, animal savagery. It would rip me to shreds but more, it would violate me, would tear me open with its sexuality. My teammates would die at its hands but I would suffer like nobody could dream in their worst nightmares. I had hurt it, had burned its flesh and it would return the favor in its own terrible ways. I liked to think I didn’t cry out, that I didn’t show weakness. I know I was wrong but I still liked to think it.
The wolf leapt at me as the sound escaped my throat. I fumbled for my lighter, desperately spinning the wheel, trying to light a fire. All I needed was a spark, a tiny flame to work with but nothing happened. The wheel spun freely without obstruction, the flint had fallen out. Eric was out of the fight, safe in his circle for now and the last I had seen of Greg, he had been lying unconscious at the base of a pine tree. There was nobody to help me, no cavalry to come riding to my rescue. I would die and not just die, I would be treated to a fate worse than death.
Time slowed. I could see the fury in the wolf’s eyes. I could see its long coarse fur standing on end. I saw the gleam of its teeth and claws, shining in their wicked sharpness. In-between its massive arm and its even more massive chest, I could see Eric trying to rise, trying to do something to help me.
I could smell the stink of its breath on the cool air, full of rotted flesh and rage. I could see the universe hatefully spinning in its golden eyes. In that space between seconds, when tachyons danced before my eyes, I felt something. It began deep inside me, a painful pressure, an anger I had never felt before. It was terrible and hungry and overpowering. I felt it burning through me, like stomach acid filling my entire being. It suffused my whole being, crowding into all the empty spots within me and then it collapsed into a bright burning star at my center.
The world return to normal. The wolf’s claws sped towards my face and I instinctively snatched up the taser. There was a bright flash that nearly blinded me and a bloodcurdling howl and when my eyes cleared, the wolf was writhing in agony, pained howls rolling from its throat.
“What the Hell was that?” croaked Eric.
“A taser I seriously need to upgrade.” I said as the werewolf shook off the effects of the stungun and began to rise.
Eric surged to his feet just as the wolf started to come after me again. He spoke a quick series of Words and the grass at the wolf’s feet swiftly began to grow. In less than a second, hundreds, maybe thousands, of long thin pieces of grass wrapped themselves around the wolf. The wolf tried to walk through the entanglement and tripped over its own feet. It tried to rise and layer upon layer of grass covered it, turning it into a heaving mound of greenery.
I glanced away from the wolf and back to Eric. He had collapsed again and looked like nothing more than a pile of dirty laundry. He had thrown his last spell and wouldn’t be able to help me anymore.
I would admit, I was a worried about the situation and about my partners but I was even more worried about myself. I had always had a quick and powerful temper, always been prone to outbursts. The rage I had felt at the prospect of dying and worse frightened me. If I could have, I would have torn into the werewolf with my teeth. That was a bad sort of reaction for somebody in my type of work.
Too late, I realized I shouldn’t have been navel-gazing in the middle of a fight. There was a horrific tearing sound, as if some primordial monster had just burst through the underbrush and to be fair, there wasn’t a much more apt description of what happened.
Greenery exploded across the clearing as the wolf surged to its feet with a howl. I lashed out with my power on instinct, finding a still burning spark from where one of my golems had been standing. Flames once again surged around the beast, burning the mountain of grass it stood in like a pagan bonfire of old and the monster just walked through it as if it wasn’t even happening.
I had burned it already that night, it no longer feared the fire, no longer felt terror in its embrace. I shrank away as it drew close, as I smelled the sickeningly sweet stench of burnt flesh, as I felt its raging breath on my face, felt the heat of its body near me. It trailed a single claw down my cheek, mockingly. I resolved then and there, I would face my death with my eyes open.
As I stared into the wolf’s eyes, I could see hate and rage and lust in them. Its face drifted down to mine, as if it were going to kiss me and all I could think was “Not on the first date, mister.” I think I laughed because the wolf drew back in alarm. Laughter was not the emotion it had expected.
There was a resoundingly loud noise and the wolf staggered two steps to its left. In its place stood Greg, half his face obscured behind a mask of slowly drying blood. In his hands was the remnants of his oaken stave. He had broken it over the head of the wolf as it had been about to savage me. I gave Greg a weak grin of thanks and he winked jauntily at me.
“That’s just about enough of that.” he rumbled as he drew one of his boot knives. I could see it sparkling in the ambient light. It was a normal steel dagger but the edges were lined with a shiny substance than could only have been silver.
The wolf saw Greg standing before it and reached out for him. Greg threw the dagger with a casual underhanded toss and it flashed as it spun through the air. There was a sound of metal slicing meat, a sound that made your soul cringe in sympathy, a cold and cutting sound that stayed with you in the long hours of the night.
“Bad doggie.” Greg said with what could only have been described as an evil grin.
The wolf gave a pitiful sound, not a howl, not a whimper, but something sadder. It was the sound of misery without end, of pain without relief, of torment without respite. It reached down and grabbed the blade sticking out of its chest and tried to pull it free.
Being an Alpha werewolf worked against it, the skin around the wound tried to heal itself and the blade was stuck. With a defeated gasp, the wolf fell to its knees and then slumped over on its side.
By then, Eric was back on his feet and stumbled unsteadily towards the dying wolf. He knelt before it and carefully cradled its head in his hands. We weren’t monsters, even though we hunted them, and occasionally protected, or even loved them. As the wolf slowly turned back into a man, as it painfully died, Eric brushed the sweat from its brow and spoke gently to it.
“Why did you do it, Terrell? You had a new name, a place to live and work. You could have been anybody and done anything. Why did you give it up? Why did you make us kill you for nothing in the middle of nowhere?” he said gently.
“No choice. There was no choice. Not for me, not for you, not for anybody. No choice.” the man who had been the wolf sputtered.
“There’s always a choice.” Eric replied with a sad shake of his head.
“Not anymore. There’s nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. Nobody is going to survive what’s coming. I won’t be a part of it. I’m nobody’s hound.” Terrell said, his voice becoming slow and dreamy, a bubble of blood bursting on his lips.
“What’s coming, dammit?” Greg demanded, bending down to yell in the face of the dying man.
“The end. For everybody. The hunt’s already begun, there’s no stopping it.” he said with his eyes wide, with his dying breath.