Wolf Hunt (Book 2) (15 page)

Brent took the keys with him as he, Sean, and Glenn got out of the truck and ran toward the house.

* * *

The redhead let out a soft whimper.

Dad looked over his shoulder at Ally and gave her the most frightening smile she'd ever seen, including scary dolls and clowns.

He swung his clawed hand all the way back, as if preparing to deliver a knockout punch, and then bashed it into the side of the redhead's skull.

His head didn't come off, completely. The blow ripped off most of the skin from his ear to his chin, snapped his neck, exposed most of his throat, and caused his head to flop to the side, but it remained attached.

That was not true after the second blow.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

An Untidy Home

Ally and Mom both screamed.

Ally was glad the man was dead, but as when George had killed the men in the woods, she didn't like seeing it happen right in front of her. And watching Dad do it, even if he wasn't recognizable as her father right now, was far worse.

Dad grabbed the headless body before it fell and hoisted it into the air, letting blood rain down upon his fur. Then he flung the body against the staircase, snarling as the redhead's spine snapped.

This was not simply a case of "kill or be killed." Dad had enjoyed that murder. Loved it. Unlike Ally, he could control when he changed, but like her, he apparently couldn't control his bloodlust when he
was
in wolf form.

The other man fired a shot at Crabs, then he fired another shot at Robyn, then another shot at Crabs, and then before he could squeeze off a fourth shot they were both upon him. He didn't last long.

By the time the man landed on the floor, it was obvious that he stood no chance whatsoever of surviving, but that didn't stop Crabs from shoving his elongated mouth deep into the man's now-skinless stomach and slurping up a treat. Then he dug in with his jaws and pulled away, stretching something thick and red until it snapped.

He swallowed whatever it was, then reached in with his claws, scooping up a handful of something else and flinging it at Dad. Dad batted it away with his paw, knocking it to the floor in a thin red mist.

A food fight. Crabs and Dad were having a food fight.

Ally wanted nothing more than to pass out. Instead, she screamed some more.

* * *

"Dammit!" George shouted, as three men hurried toward the house. They were all wearing facemasks, but he could tell who they were: Sean, Brent, and the short guy with the thick sideburns. Checking up on Ally was just supposed to be a token gesture!

The men immediately split up: Sean running to the front door, Brent to a window, and the short guy around the back of the house.

"They're doing this fast and messy," said Lou. "We need to just run right in after them and take 'em out."

George nodded. "I totally agree."

Sean went inside, gun raised, leaving the door open behind him.

"Is there anything I can do?" asked Eugene from the back.

"Yeah, you can be our getaway driver."

"Is there anything
else
I can do? My hands aren't equipped for driving anymore."

George stopped directly in front of Ally's house. "If anybody comes out and it's not us, scare the shit out of them." He put the van into park. "No offense."

"None taken."

George and Lou got out of the van and rushed to the front door.

* * *

Desmond Reith remained hunched over until George and Lou went inside. At his age, ducking down like this was not an easy process, and if the thugs had bothered to pay attention they probably would have seen him back here. But they didn't.

The sound of more gunshots came from the house.

Desmond smiled. He didn't know what exactly was happening inside, but he liked the idea that Ally might have changed into her true form and started slaughtering Mr. Dewey's former employees. The men had chuckled amongst themselves when Mr. Dewey handed out the silver bullets. They wouldn't be laughing now, since of course Mr. Dewey had been lying to them. He couldn't risk having one of those idiots kill Ally.

Poor delusional Dewey Decimal. The man who believed that he could turn himself into a werewolf. Sorry, Dewey Decimal—even if George hadn't blown your tiny brain out, you couldn't change. You were either born a werewolf or you weren't. Getting bit by one meant nothing.

Desmond hadn't planned for Dewey to die, but it didn't bother him. He'd already served his purpose by unwittingly thumbing his nose at the Wolves. It was probably best for him that he'd received a relatively painless bullet to the head.

Brent had left him in the truck without keys, like a child. How helpless did he think Desmond really was? Desmond had never made a legal dollar in his life. Did Brent think that he couldn't hotwire a truck and leave him behind?

* * *

George stepped through the doorway, and immediately took a bucket of blood to the face.

Not from a literal bucket, but the quantity of blood that splashed over him was just like if somebody had flung a bucket's worth at him. It took him a moment to blink it out of his eyes, and when he did he saw that both of Sean's arms had been torn off. In fact, his shoulders were gone, too.

Ally had changed again.

No, wait, she hadn't. She was huddled on the floor with an older blonde woman. George was looking at a different werewolf.

Two different...
three
different werewolves.

Shit.

The werewolf closest to George, which was the largest of the three, cocked its head to the side as it saw him. It dropped Sean's not-dead body to the floor, pointed at George, and then beckoned.

George felt that, all things considered, it would be in his best interest to decline that invitation.

Instead of wasting any bullets on these hell beasts that were almost certainly invulnerable, he spun right the fuck around, almost knocking Lou over.

He felt a clawed hand on the back of his jacket, and suddenly he was flying across the living room, not actually in mid-air but without anywhere near as much foot-carpet contact as he'd like. He fell to the floor before he struck the wall.

Seconds later, Lou joined him.

The biggest werewolf pointed to Sean's body, then leapt as high into the air as it could without hitting the ceiling. It curled into a ball, and landed with all four feet, claws extended, directly on Sean's torso. Then it jerked its arms and legs far apart, scattering Sean to both sides.

This was clearly done for George and Lou's benefit.

Where the hell were the police? A neighbor had to have called the police, right? There were gunshots and screaming and stuff; help had to be on the way!

Sean was unmistakably dead now. George fondly remembered the time when Sean had been one of the larger problems in his life.

Brent burst into the living room from whatever room he'd snuck into in the back. His presumed plan to open fire was abandoned as he saw the three werewolves and the condition of his buddy's body.

From the scraps of clothing that hung off his body, one of the werewolves was the creepy guy who'd been waiting in the car. He did a menacing walk across the room toward where George and Lou lay, but didn't pounce. He just watched them, grinning, as if daring them to try to get away.

The third werewolf, who was either a woman or a man who'd been wearing a bra, was standing in front of Ally and her mother. George couldn't tell if it was trying to protect them, or just save them for last.

Since George had tried to turn and run a mere few moments ago, he didn't judge Brent for doing the same. It wasn't cowardly to flee from a situation where you were completely screwed. Brent made it maybe three steps. His next few steps just consisted of frantic kicking as the largest werewolf lifted him into the air, holding him by the back of the neck with one hand.

The werewolf turned so that Brent was facing George and Lou, and then raked the talons of its free hand down Brent's body, opening him up from just below his neck to his waist, shaking his body so that more would spill out.

Then it did it again.

And once more.

The werewolf jiggled Brent around like a ragdoll, then snapped him over his knee. It was the first time George had ever seen an exposed spinal column.

A window broke in another room.

The werewolf guarding George and Lou ran out of the living room to investigate. For a split second George considered shouting out a warning to the short guy, then decided that there was no compelling reason to do that.

On one hand, George was happy to not be dead yet. The murders of Sean and Brent were clearly meant to terrify him and imply that he and Lou were next on the mangling block. He didn't know why Mr. Dewey's men were considered more disposable, but George was glad of it. On the other hand, it was very likely that he and Lou were being saved for a much worse fate.

With Sean and Brent dead, and the short guy probably soon to meet his demise, George decided that it didn't make sense to save rounds that could, if his aim was perfect and the werewolf wasn't expecting him to suddenly shoot, take out an eye or two.

As soon as George made his move, Lou seemed to understand his plan and they both opened fire.

They had a moving target before they squeezed off the first shot, and most of the rounds punched uselessly into the werewolf's chest. One nicked its ear, and one shattered a back tooth, which had to hurt like a son of a bitch even if you were a ferocious beast.

The werewolf howled in pain, though not as much as George would've howled if one of
his
teeth had been shot off, then dove at them.

"Dad! Don't!" screamed Ally.

Dad? Seriously?

George and Lou both hurled their empty guns at the monster. George hoped to hit the werewolf's eyes and send up a spray of eyeball jelly, but instead both guns bounced off the werewolf's skull, neither one cracking it open like an egg.

It was enough, however, to cause the werewolf to cease its attack for just a moment, which was in turn enough of a delay for the werewolf to absorb Ally's message of "Don't!"

It looked at Ally, then back at George and Lou, and then it smiled, tilting its head a bit to make sure that the grin they saw favored the side with the shattered, bloody tooth.

In another room, the short guy screamed.

The werewolf pointed at George, and then held up its hands, curled into fists in a "Put up your dukes" gesture.

"We'll pass," said George.

The werewolf gestured more emphatically.

"Ally, could you tell your dad that if we don't clear out of here, we're all going to prison?"

"Dad—"

The werewolf put a finger to its lips. Shhhhh.

Ally's mom, sobbing, put both arms around her daughter.

George reluctantly got to his feet and put up his own fists. The werewolf pointed at Lou, telling him to do the same thing. Well, at least it was going to be an unfair two-on-one fight. Lou stood up, with equal reluctance, and the two thugs stood there, fists in the air, in the proper position but not really ready to rumble.

The werewolf grabbed George by the shoulders and slammed him into Lou, almost but not quite knocking Lou off-balance. George delivered a vicious head-butt, bashing his forehead against the werewolf's snout just as Lou kicked the creature in the side.

It let go of George and stumbled away a couple of steps. Its facial expression seemed to say, "What the hell? You weren't supposed to put up a
real
fight!"

George and Lou rushed it.

It was a big scary creature, but screw it, they were big scary criminals. The average person, upon seeing George and Lou walking toward them in a dark alley, would crap their pants. Yeah, it helped that the werewolf was apparently not intending to simply rip them apart the way it had Sean and Brent, but still, George and Lou weren't going to go out like helpless victims.

Lou's tackle was somewhat more effective than George's. Lou was actually able to slam the werewolf against the wall, cracking the plaster, while George took a fist to the head and crashed into a recliner.

Better a fist to the head than talons.

The third werewolf strode back into the living room, dragging the short guy by one of his legs. Mr. Dewey's man was crying and pleading and unsuccessfully trying to dig his fingers into the carpet.

"Stop it, Dad!" Ally wailed. "Just stop it."

The werewolf pointed down at the short guy, then made a gesture that resembled snapping something in two. The other werewolf nodded.

The female werewolf suddenly transformed back into her human form. As with Ivan, George couldn't believe how quickly she could do this. If this had been a movie, George would've had a good chuckle over the cheesy special effects. In real life, it was more than a little freaky.

Before the change was complete she'd already put an arm over her breasts, as if anticipating that her clothing would not have survived the process. She was an attractive woman, probably in her late thirties. Maybe she was Ally's mother and the other woman was a babysitter or something.

Nah. The wolf-lady didn't look anything like Ally, while there was a distinct resemblance between Ally and the blonde who was still holding her tight.

"No time for games!" said the woman.

"Robyn, please, make them stop!" Ally shouted. "Just let us go! We won't say anything, I promise!"