Torment (Primal Progeny Book 1) (37 page)

Chapter 39

On the top floor of the derelict old house Finnlay slid into the bedroom where Audra had been waiting for her murderous lover. He moved silently into the room and crossed to her quickly, his bright blue eyes full of concern. Once he had reached her he put his hands on her shoulders and leaned in close to whisper into her ear.

‘We need to get you out of here Audra.’

She looked him dead in the eyes and her full lips contorted into a smile. A smile which only she knew was false. ‘I’m so glad to see you’ she lied, pulling him into an awkward hug.

He pushed her away gently and turned towards the door. ‘Come on’ he insisted ‘we need to go.’

She nodded and followed him closely, tailing him to the top of the stairs. Then out of nowhere she lunged at him, shoving him hard.  Both hands slammed into his back, and totally unsuspecting he had no way of stopping himself. For a moment he teetered at the top of the staircase, and then he fell heavily. His body bounced and rolled roughly. His head slammed into the bannister, and he was out cold by the time he reached the bottom.

Audra surveyed her work from the top of the stairs before running down and holding a finger to his neck. He had a pulse, and on closer inspection he was breathing, but it was very shallow. She thought about killing him, but knew that time was of the essence and that if she was to escape she would need to go then and there.

Standing up and stepping over him she listened to the voices coming from the basement. She thought about heading down to help her lover, but decided against it. She could hear only Hunter’s voice and was sure that Varulv could cope with him alone. He was the most powerful werewolf she had ever encountered. She was quite certain that finishing off a lone werewolf who’d never had any kind of guidance would be no problem for him.

She made her way quietly out of the front door and carefully closed it behind her. She felt almost certain that the quiet click of the door closing would attract their attention, and she did not need Hunter trying to rescue her as well. Besides which, the last things she needed was to rouse Finnlay, and who knew what other wolves were in the area. She knew that they knew she was with Varulv, and that her father would have sent a search party. He would never have deemed two werewolves enough to rescue his precious little princess. This thought made her smile, half happy, half bitter. She had always wished he had given her more opportunities within the pack… Not that it was anything to worry about after her rendezvous with the most aged werewolf on the planet.

Looking out into the night she ran her hand down the door, imagining herself caressing Varulv’s muscular body. Then she hurried away down the street. She made no attempt to hide herself, simply running full pelt down the middle of the road. She did not know where she was going; all she knew was that she needed to get away. She was certain Varulv would find her somehow, regardless of where she went. She would not stop running until she found somewhere secluded to hide away. She could not risk being found, not in her delicate state. Her father would order her dismissal from the pack… Or worse, that her baby be terminated….

*****

Inside the shadowy interior of the house Finnlay groggily began to come to. His efficient shape-shifter system healing him much more rapidly than an average man’s would have. He had hit his head easily hard enough to cause a concussion, but as a werewolf all he suffered was a brief blackout and a severe headache.  As he opened his eyes his head pounded, but he knew he could not lie there. He was stunned by what had happened. He had clearly felt her hands on his back, and she had meant it. Perhaps she had even meant to kill him. That thought stabbed at him, though he had never liked her he had not expected that from her.

He struggled to his feet and rubbed his temples, leaning on the rotting bannister for support. It creaked and shifted under his weight, nearly sending him sprawling again. He righted himself awkwardly just as he heard a scurry of claws from the basement. A symphony of snarls echoed up the stairs and he staggered to find the kitchen. They were attacking, and he had to help no matter how sore he felt after the fall.

Finnlay found the kitchen easily, mainly thanks to the smell of rotten food the previous occupants had left in the cupboards upon their departure.  He rummaged through the drawers as fast as he could and eventually got lucky. In the fourth drawer he tried sat a mess of old cutlery. In amongst it all were cooking knives, some small, some large. He hastily grabbed out three of them, one for himself, one for Mason and one for Hunter.

His head was slowly beginning to clear, which he was thankful for. He knew he was about to run into the fight of his life, and he needed his wits about him. He turned on his heels and ran to the stairs, tearing down them and bursting into the room. None saw him enter, but he ran for Mason and thrust one of the knives into his hands. The other werewolf had been standing on the sidelines in his human form, clearly uncertain of how to fight as a man.

‘Get in there!’ Finnlay shouted, giving him a little shove ‘Grab his hands, grab his neck, anything! Just make it easier for them to get to the parts that can win this for us!’

Mason uncertainly moved towards the flurry of fur and flesh in the middle of the room, and Finnlay shot towards Hunter. The lone werewolf had a single shallow scratch mark showing through a tear in his t-shirt, but was otherwise unharmed. He was clearly struggling to remain in his human form. He was crouched on the floor with wild eyes and his body trembled. Finnlay could see the lupine in him trying to find an opening to spring at the creature in the midst of the fight.

Finnlay grabbed him by the shoulders and dragged him upright, forcing him to take the knife into his hands. Hunter’s mind struggled to clear the fog of his inner animal’s rage. He awkwardly took the knife and stared at Finnlay for a moment, trying to get himself back into a human state of mind. Finnlay shook him a little and growled at him.

‘Get it together!’ Finnlay snapped. ‘You’re no good like this! If you can’t focus you’ll never get revenge for Lucy or your parents.’

Something in Hunter’s mind clicked into place. He was right, he needed to rein it in. As his logical mind took over he was able to focus on the fight enough to really see what was happening.

Varulv had been knocked from his feet by the sudden assault and was sprawled on the ground beneath a writhing pile of fur. Eve had hold of one of his legs and was savagely tearing into his thigh without mercy. Though he flexed and twisted she held firm; shaking her head and snarling as blood and gore flecked her muzzle and pelt. Matthew had him by one of his arms and was snapping and snarling, shifting his grip as he tried for his brachial artery. He was being tossed around by the old werewolf’s thrashing. His claws skittered along the floorboards but he held tight, despite the clawed hand raking at his side. Blood was seeping from an array of shallow wounds there, but in his blind rage he did not notice.

Lastly there was Tobias, who had grabbed the twisted creature around its throat. His skull was huge and his jaws cavernous, and full of glistening white teeth. He had a good grip on the beast’s neck, and his teeth dug ever deeper. His eyes were full of anger and wilder than Hunter had ever seen on a wolf who was not himself. He shook and snarled, his blonde fur bristling all over him and dotted with blood.

But this was not to last. It was only surprise that had allowed them to get Varulv to the ground, and he would not simply remain there and allow his own demise. As Hunter looked on and Finnlay leapt into the fray brandishing his knife, something terrible began to unfold. It was too late for Finnlay, who had not seen the change begin to occur. By the time he was on the beast he had no hope of escaping his fate.

Varulv lurched up from the ground, thrashing his arms and launching Matthew across the room. The red pelted wolf struck the wall with force and the wind was knocked out of him. He whimpered loudly, and Hunter heard his ribs crack. Varulv was impossibly strong.

Eve refused to release her grip; her teeth were too deeply embedded in his morphing flesh. She hung on for dear life as he pummeled his deformed hind paw onto the floor; her body slamming down like a ragdoll. Somehow she clung on, but Tobias was not so lucky. Varulv tore him from his throat and lunged forward at Finnlay in one smooth motion. Blood gushed from his torn neck and Tobias bounced off the ground. He yelped loudly, scrabbling to turn and halt the old werewolf’s attack. But he was too slow. Before the beta male could swing around, Varulv’s clawed hands had knocked Finnlay’s knife from his hand and torn open his throat.

Finnlay dropped to the ground as Varulv roared with maniacal laughter. The young male’s bright blue eyes clouded over and a gurgle escaped him as blood began to trickle from the corner of his mouth. Varulv had cut him so deeply that his head had nearly been completely torn from his shoulders.

This snapped Hunter into action. He saw the light leave Finnlay’s eyes and rage filled him completely. He flung himself at the monster and by sheer luck his knife cut down through the air and sliced deeply into Varulv’s wrist. The monster screamed in pain and tried to withdraw, but was not fast enough. Mason had charged out of the shadows and hacked at the same limb. Screaming in anger he hacked off the beast’s right hand and turned to frantically stab at his chest.

As Hunter flung himself forward with his knife pointed at the beast’s face, Tobias sprang back into the melee and snapped at the severed limb. His jaws wrapped around the raw stump where a hand had once been, and he snapped and gnashed savagely. Hunter heard the bones crunch in his mouth as he advanced, but his sole focus was carving the deranged look off the monster’s face.

Varulv shook his arm violently, screaming with laughter as the wolf on the end of his arm was flung around like a rag. Tobias snarled and held tight, and then suddenly screamed with pain and let go of his quarry. Varulv had blocked his face from Hunter’s knife with the beta male’s body. It happened so fast that Hunter did not even see it, but he knew when Tobias let go that something was wrong. His knife had slowed in the air, he had slashed through something.

He would have looked down had he not been so focused on the task at hand. He knew he could not break his concentration. He hopped over the stricken Beta and stabbed at Varulv’s face. The monster tried to block him but his missing hand left space for the knife to slip through and make contact. The blade sliced easily through his cheek and skittered over the bone, slipping deep into his mouth and slicing his tongue. He snapped his head sideways to try and escape, but succeeded only in turning directly into Mason’s weapon. This second blade sunk deep into his neck, penetrating just behind his ear and slicing backwards through, just millimeters away from his spine.

Varulv staggered backwards as Hunter and Mason advanced in unison. Eve took her chance and dragged him down. She shook her head as hard as she could, her muscular bulk dragging him awkwardly to the floor. He fell backwards heavily, smashing hard into the ground as she released her grip and sprang at him afresh. She knew what she was aiming for and the room was filled with her snarls as her teeth closed down on his exposed groin. He was trying to shift then, to attain a form more suited to fighting them. But his body would not respond, all he managed was to raise his core temperature and squirm on the ground as her teeth burrowed deep into his crotch. She snapped back her head and tore away his manhood, tossing it aside and grabbing back at his belly with her blood filled maw.

As Eve’s teeth sank into his tender stomach, Mason and Hunter fell upon his upper half. Mason stabbed at his left arm, catching an artery and causing blood to spray in vivid red tendrils across the room. The ancient werewolf howled and screamed, twisting his head and trying to lift his injured arms. His limbs would not obey him, and Mason stabbed at him again and again as Eve tore through his entrails.

Hunter knelt on the ground beside the almost unrecognizably twisted form of the creature who had murdered his parents, and then his best friend so many years later. He snarled down at him ‘It’s your turn now you sick fuck! This is for my mother, and my father, and Lucy. This is for everyone you’ve ever hurt or killed!’

Varulv’s eyes were already clouding over, as Eve’s mutilation of him and Mason’s relentless slashes began to do irreparable damage. But Hunter needed that final blow, he had earned it. He twisted the creature’s head towards him as Eve and Mason’s attacks lurched his twisted body around the floor. He stared Varulv in the eyes and bought down his blade heavily into his neck. He stabbed down once, and then again and again and again… A red haze descending over him as he finished off the monster who had destroyed his life.