Act Four Chapter Ten - I'll Fall With Your Knife

Michael snapped awake. It took him a moment to remember where he was, lying in a bathtub naked with Julia likewise naked on top of him. Motel north of Roanoke. They’d arrived the night before, got settled. Now was time to begin the plan.

Michael stood up and Julia stirred awake. Michael smiled at her. He remembered they had fucked as the sun rose. Physically satisfying, but still devoid emotionally. It would have to do. He began to dress.

“Here.” He tossed Julia’s own clothing over to her. “The others are probably in the room waiting for us.” He dressed quickly and then stepped out. His guess was right. Waiting in the main room of the motel were Mitch, Boar, and the harem girls.

“Figured you guys would be playing.” Teased Michael.

“Figured tonight was all business. Pleasure gets to wait.” Said Boar in response.

Michael nodded. There was no arguing that. They had come to conquer a domain against a vicious and powerful enemy and they were going to do it by baiting an equally dangerous foe. “I see you brought the weapons inside.”

“We did. What are all these?”

Michael picked up a small assault rifle. “This and its two companions are gifts from our friend Damian. A M933 carbine. Based off the M-16, it has a much shorter barrel and is perfect for CQB work.”

“CQB?” asked Mitch.

“Close quarters battle.” Explained Sammy.

“Yep. Fires a .223 rifle round in a compact shell. The blades here. Tactical blades, guardian sword. Used by TFV in their work. Made of modern composite steel with a silver edge. Perfect for werewolves.”

“State of the art stuff.” Said Boar.

“And highly illegal in the hands of civilians.” Added Sammy.

“True. But we’ve come to murder and to maim. Not exactly legal either.”

“I like this one.” Said Mitch, picking up an odd looking contraption. Two blades set on what looked like a metal wristband. “Just call me Logan.”

“Yes, from what Damian told me it was designed by a TFV agent with a fondness for comic books. Forearm blades. One edged in silver, the other in cold iron.”

“We’re not hunting changelings or fae.”

“No, but TFV aims to be prepared.”

“As should we. Once we unleash this storm, there’s no telling what to expect.” Said Boar.

“Care to elaborate?” asked Michael.

“Werewolves aren’t just shapeshifting monsters. They have a whole system of rite and ritual that centers on the spirits of nature. In fact, werewolf culture is all about their role as the guardians of the Earth from rogue spirits. But they’ll use those spirits in any war they launch against the vampires.”

“So we’ll be fighting ghosts as well as big furry monsters?”

“Sort of. Ghosts are spirits of the dead. The spirits I’m speaking of are more elemental. Spirits of the land, the air, the fundamental essence of things. Uratha might call upon a spirit of a tree to see if it has witnessed a vampire passing near. They might summon a spirit of murder to inspire rage in a group of humans to get them to attack us.”

“You can do the same?” asked Mitch.

“I know some rites. All werewolves do, but the pack shaman will know the most and the chief after that. Compared to them, I know nothing.”

“We have two goals when it comes to the werewolves.” Interjected Michael. “Avenge the murder of Ami Janes, Boar’s lover, and provoke them into attacking the resident vampires of Roanoke and Blacksburg. Doing the first will likely lead to the second. We want a war between the two of them, one that will leave both groups reeling in its wake.”

“I want them to suffer for what they did to her.” Said Boar.

“There will be much suffering before this is over. We do this right and it’ll be all the right people who experience it. The next question…” Michael hoisted the assault rifle and slapped in a magazine. “Who do we get to use these on first?”

“I know who.” Said Boar with a grim look.

---

The night sky was pierced by the howling of wolves. The ordinary humans going about their business found it unsettling. “The coyotes are on the move,” they would say to one another, each refusing to admit what hunted in the hills beyond the borders of their towns and cities.

Indeed, the beasts were on the move. Alex Martin tore through the woods at breakneck speed. His companions could barely keep up with him; Red Jackson and Nadia Evans tried to keep pace, but were slipping behind. His haste was driven by frightening rumor. His family, his son!

Alex emerged into the clearing and checked his speed. The farmhouse was just ahead, but already he could detect the scent of death. He morphed into human form and began to move closer, cautiously. His fears did not make him reckless. There was danger about for sure.

Red and Nadia emerged a moment later and likewise transformed into human form. The two of them scanned about, looking for threats.

“What happened here?” she asked.

“Let’s find out.” Said Alex, steeling himself for whatever he might find within. He marched up to the front door.

The door had been smashed in, perhaps by a police battering ram. That was a clue; these attackers were organized and intentional. This was no random break-in. Alex moved further into the house and soon came upon the first body. His uncle, shot dead in his recliner in front of the TV. The TV itself was shot through.

“Robbery?” asked Red as he entered.

“No.” said Alex. He pulled out a pocket knife and dug out a bullet from a hole in the wall. He tossed the bullet to Red.

“Silver.” Red observed.

“This was deliberate.”

“Hunters.” Snarled Red in disgust.

“No, worse.” Said Alex, sniffing.

Red did likewise. He snarled. “Vampires.”

“Where’s Jacob?”

“Your aunt is dead in the back room. No sign of the boy.” Said Nadia, emerging from the back of the house.

“This stinks of a trap.” Said Red.

“It does. Let’s get out of here.”

The three made for the front door, but the moment their feet hit the front porch, they were momentarily blinded by a flash of light from across the clearing. Alex snarled and raised his hand to block the light. He knew where it came from: the powerful halogen lamps that were often mounted on police-issue assault rifles.

“You’re predictable, Alex.” Said a familiar voice.

“Boorman.” Snarled the chief in response. “Traitor to your own kind.”

“You dare accuse me after what you did to one of our own. One you knew, loved, and respected since birth!” Boar snarled back.

“You bring vampires and death into our midst.”

“Enough talk” came another voice, one the chief did not recognize. A figure stepped forward. From the way he moved, Alex could tell it was a vampire.

“Where’s the boy?” snapped Alex.

“He is unharmed and will remain so if you tell us what we want to know.” Said the vampire. “Show him.”

One of the other shadows gave a shove to a smaller one. The smaller one fell into the light; it was Jacob, undamaged but clearly frightened.

“And what is it that you want to know?” asked Alex.

“No, that’s not enough, Michael.” Said Boar to his vampire companion. “I want a piece of this one. It was his orders. His command.”

“Then come forth, traitor.” Said Alex, baiting Boar.

The vampire Michael gave a hand motion and the others backed away. Boar stepped forward and morphed into a wolf. Alex bent forward and likewise shifted. Within seconds, the two beasts were tearing into each other.

Blood, flesh, and fur were flying. To most observers, including both the werewolves and vampires present, it was hard to tell who was winning. They bit. They clawed at one another. It was as vicious a battle as any of them had ever seen. Alex, the seasoned but smaller fighter, against the larger and determined Boar.

Determination won the day. Boar clamped down hard on Alex’s throat and flung him some 10 feet across the clearing, tearing out his throat as he did so. Such a wound was hardly mortal to a werewolf, but it did stun the wolf chieftain. As Alex struggled back to his feet, his vicious wound closing before their very eyes, Boar morphed into a man-wolf and drew out the silver klaive from its scabbard.

Seeing the vicious weapon of a werewolf killer in his opponent’s hand, Alex likewise shifted to a more humanoid form. But he was not fast enough. Boar was on him and the blade bit deep into Alex’s left arm. The limb came free and dropped bloody into the grass. Alex howled in pain and fell backwards, shifting back to human as he did so. He grabbed at his severed arm and tried desperately to staunch the bleeding.

“Regenerate that, pig.” Snarled Boar as he came back to human form.

“You barbarian!” spat Alex, desperately trying to remain conscious against the blood loss.

“Torch!” barked Michael. A flaming brand was given to him. Michael stepped forward and used it to cauterize the wound. “You’re more valuable alive than dead.” Commented the vampire.

“Your people will pay for this.”

“I’m counting on it.” Said Michael grimly. “But for now, chief, your concern should be your own kind. Tell me what I want to know and I’ll let the others go free, including your cub.”

“What is it you want to know?”

“Where is Ami Janes?”

---

Andreas Costa barked orders into his cell phone as he came out of the building and into his waiting limousine. “Damnit!” he snarled in frustration, tossing the phone onto the seat next to him.

“Where to, sir?”

“Home.” He said at first. “No,” he quickly corrected. “I need distraction. To Northside High School. There should be a game tonight.”

“I believe so, sir.”

The driver pulled out onto the street and began making his way through the city streets from downtown towards Roanoke’s Northside High. Andreas looked out distractedly as they passed through the city blocks. He saw a shadow cross the roof of a nearby building, so fast it could barely be seen.

“We are being followed.” He announced to the driver. “Something or someone on the rooftops.”

“I will try to lose them, sir.”

That would not be easy, Andreas knew. If they had the rooftops, they had the advantage. Andreas reached forward and pressed a button on the seat in front of him. A compartment opened and he snatched the pistol from within it.

“Be ready. They will have us soon.” He warned his driver.

Whatever it was, it was keeping up. It had to be a vampire or something else supernatural to maintain that speed.

Suddenly, without warning, a large mass dropped into the road in front of them. The driver slammed on his brakes, but there was no dodging the massive thing. The limo slammed hard into it, smashing the front of the car and knocking whatever it was several yards down the road.

Then it stood up. Twice as tall as any human, covered in thick grey fur. The early nighttime crowd milling about on the streets saw the beast and immediately succumbed to its power of lunacy. There was utter panic on the streets.

“Werewolf!” said Andreas.

The driver opened his door, used it for cover, and opened fire with his own gun. The beast charged, unfazed by the bullets, and body-slammed the door. Crushed between the door and the car, the driver slumped to the ground.

“I’ll not be so easily defeated.” Said Andreas, mostly to himself. He opened the door opposite the werewolf and ran out into the streets. Once he had some distance from his attacker, he turned and opened fire. Unlike his hapless thrall, Andreas took the time to aim, firing his rounds into the head of the beast.

That, the werewolf could not ignore. The first round missed, but the second struck home, staggering the monster. Andreas knew the werewolf would soon regenerate even that wound, so he took advantage of the moment to run, willing the blood to his legs for haste.

He tore down the street, thankful that the werewolf’s lunacy had taken hold of all the mortal witnesses. Otherwise, he might have to answer for why he had invoked his power of vampiric speed in front of so many mortals. He decided to push his luck further, leaping towards a building and then scaling up its sheer side to make for the roof tops.

The werewolf behind him gave chase, easily just as fast as Andreas, but without his head start. Unlike him, however, the werewolf did not have the means to climb a sheer brick wall.

That little hindered the beast as it leaped for a nearby fire escape. Still, the added delay gave Andreas a bit more distance. He might escape after all. He leapt from his building to the next.

Immediately upon landing, something large slammed into him, knocking him from his feet. Andreas rolled and came awkwardly to his feet. Another werewolf.

“This is for the chief.” Growled the second beast in guttural English. Then it charged.

---

Meanwhile, off in the woods surrounding the city, Alex Martin was marched like a prisoner by his captors. One a vampire, another a mage, the third his former student and packmate.

“You kept your word, vampire.” Said Alex. “Ami is just down here.”

Michael gave the werewolf chief a rough shove. He was bound, his single remaining arm lashed to his body with rope and chain both. Although a quick shapeshift would free him easily from that, Alex knew he’d not likely escape the silver bullets with which each of his captors had loaded their weapons.

“You truly aren’t one of us, if you’re seeking revenge for this. You know our law. You know why we had to do this.” Said Alex to Boar.

“I no longer care. I have a new pack.”

“A pack made up of wizards and leeches. Vile beasts of darkness. Not even the worst of our lot make such allies.”

“I am a traitor, a barbarian, the worst of all our kind. I am a ghost wolf. I choose my own pack.” Retorted Boar. “Stop.” He then commanded.

In the dark, it was hard to see much of anything in the small clearing. It looked much the same as any other place in the woods. Trees above. Moss and ferns on the forest floor, all intermingled with a layer of leaves now falling from the trees in autumn. Michael and Mitch looked around, uncertain.

“She’s here.” Said Boar. He stepped forward and began digging in a nearby patch of leaves. It took only a second or two before he uncovered a shin bone.

“Yes, this is where she met justice. Where she…” Alex never finished his sentence before Boar bolted to his feet, morphed, and tore his head from his shoulders.

Alex’s corpse dropped to the forest floor. Boar shivered with rage and anguish. Michael and Mitch exchanged glances but said nothing for a long moment. Then Michael broke the silence. “Mitch, go back and see if you can find a shovel at that cabin.”

Mitch nodded and left.

“You’re not giving him a burial.” Snarled Boar.

“No, Mike, we’re not. We’ll leave him for the crows. This is for her. Come, let’s find the rest of her.”

Mitch returned about 30 minutes later. During that time, Michael and Boar managed to find most of what they could of Ami. When Boar finally uncovered her skull, he lost all his remaining composure. He began to sob uncontrollably.

Without a word, Mitch began to dig. Michael simply stood there and said nothing, leaving Boar to his grief. After Mitch had made a hole a foot or so deep (not easy amid the rocks and the roots of the nearby trees), Michael began to gather up the bones.

“We lay her to rest in the midst of the woods were you met, where you were together.” Said Michael aloud. “I pray that whatever divine powers exist in this world that they will give her rest and peace.” He placed the bones in the grave and then turned to Boar. He looked up at Michael, tears still streaming down his face.

Boar then came to his feet, walked over to the makeshift grave, and gently laid the skull atop the other bones. An impulse took hold of Michael and without even thinking about it, he made the sign of the cross before the grave. Mitch then began to fill the hole again with dirt.

After the grave was filled, Boar spoke. “I knew this is what we would find.”

“Yes, we all did.” Said Michael.

“I loved her.”

“I know. We know.”

Boar began to shake again, his grief turning back into rage. “They didn’t even give her a decent burial. No rites, no ritual, no funeral. It took us, a vampire, a mage, and an outcast to do for her what her own people, her own family, would not do.” Boar looked hard at his two friends. “They call me traitor. They call me lawbreaker. But they are the desecrators here. I want them dead. All of them.”


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