AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Julie dropped into the circle on her knees. He saw a small flame of a match being struck. The puddle ignited.
The boar-hound charged. It came like a cannonball, snarling, giant maw open, tusks ready to rend.
Julie thrust something into the fire.
The hound covered the last ten feet.
Julie jerked the object out of the flame and held it up in front of her like a shield.
The boar-hound slid to a stop, its pig eyes fixed on the hot arrow in Julie’s hand. The creature pushed forward and recoiled, as if striking an invisible wall.
He slumped in relief. The wound on his neck was closing. He was still alive. Now it was just a matter of time, and she had just bought them some.
The boar-hound howled. In the distance, three other voices answered.
He wasn’t sure how much time had passed: seconds, minutes. But the wind had changed, and he smelled the second hound before he heard it charge its way into the building and slide to a stop before Julie’s circle. Third and fourth followed. He heard the bird, saw it as it flew over him, circling, and then he heard the hunter’s horse.
He heard the rough sound of metal striking stone. She was chopping at the arrowhead with her tomahawk.
The pain in Derek’s neck had ebbed. The edges of the gray skin shrank, turning pink, not fast enough but it would have to do. She had done her part. It was time for him to do his.
In the darkness of the second floor, he slid his shoes off, then his pants.
The horse clopped its way into the building.
“You cannot break it,” a deep male voice said.
He looked down. The hunter stopped his horse midway down the floor. The four boar-hounds lined up between him and Julie.
Here you are, asshole.
&nbs
p; “The arrowhead’s stone. This is stainless steel.” She sounded determined. “I’ll shatter it.”
Derek rose quietly in the shadows.
“That is my first arrow. The arrow is eternal and so am I. As long as there are humans and their prey, I will exist.”
“Go fuck yourself.” She smashed the tomahawk into the arrow.
Now. The change dashed through him, the brief pain welcome and sweet. His muscles tore and grew again, his bones lengthened, his fur sprouted, and suddenly he was whole again, stronger, faster, seven feet tall, a meld of beast and man. The burn of silver was still there, but now just a razor-sharp reminder of the pain and the need to kill its source. He smelled blood. His three-inch claws itched. He heard eight hearts beating: five animal, one bird, and two human. He wanted to taste the hot, salty rush of blood pounding through their veins, to open them and feel them struggle in the grip of his teeth.
The wild within him roared. The thing that nearly turned him loup—the one he kept at bay with monthly trips to the woods, with meditation, with exertion, with running until his legs could no longer carry him—that thing broke free and it was hungry.
“Choose a side,” the hunter said.
Her voice rang, her words defiant. “I choose the Wolf.”
“Then you die.” The hunter pulled the bow off his shoulders.
Not today. Derek leaped over the iron rail. He landed among the hounds and opened two throats, tusk to tusk, before they realized he was there. Blood gushed—glorious, hot blood, straight from the heart. The wild sang within him. The third beast tried to gore him, but he hurled it aside like a rag doll. It hit the wall with a loud thud, whimpered as it slid to the ground, and lay still.
An arrow whistled through the air. He grasped the fourth beast by its neck and jerked it up, holding the struggling animal like a shield. Arrows thudded into it—one, two, three—and sank deep. He hurled the creature at its master. The horse reared, screaming. The hound met the hunter’s fist and fell, knocked aside. It scrambled to its feet and ran to Derek, limping. The remaining hounds, two slashed and bleeding and one favoring its front leg, rushed him. He dodged the first, letting it rush past him, and landed on its neck and bit. His teeth closed around the spinal column and crushed the cartilage. He tore a mouthful of flesh and bone and let go. A tusk dug into his hip. He snarled at the pain and punched the creature’s thick skull. It shuddered and he punched again, driving his fist in with all his wild strength. The bone broke. Brain wet his fur. The last hound attacked, unsteady on its feet. The wild roared inside him, so loud he could hear nothing else. He carved the hound’s throat into pieces.
An arrow pierced his thigh. He ripped it out, slashing the wound open before the silver could spread.
The last beast fell. The bird swooped down at him. He snatched the raptor out of the air and tore off its head. Only the man was left. He walked to the hunter. There was no need to rush.
