Thursday, July 30, 1997, 10:10 pm

Texas (What? You didn’t bring a map either, so stop looking at me like that!)

The soldier in the cargo bay gawked at the orc as Jobe, Gavin, George and Rachel dragged him to the chopper. Even working together, their progress was slow.

The soldier’s helmeted head blurred as he shook it. He jumped out and ran to stand over the orc’s head. “If we’re taking him, we can’t carry all of you out of here!”

Jobe said, “We’ve got this guy and two others who have to leave now.”

“Sir, that’s still too much—”

Jobe shouted, “I wasn’t negotiating!”

The soldier didn’t feel like risking his life. He gave up and nodded.

Getting the orc on board required the pilot getting out to help lift the massive creature and ease him into the cargo bay.

Fortunately, his wound had almost closed, and his breathing wasn’t as shallow. If he could be put in a safe place to feed and rest, he would make a full recovery within a day or two, maybe less.

Dave was awake by then, but he offered no resistance as he was led to the chopper. Several of his ribs were broken, and his arms closed over his sides while he panted. He limped heavily, his hips still mending from the orc landing on him.

Jobe led Rosa to the helicopter last. She was wearing one of Dave’s shirts and nothing else. The T-shirt was massive and looked like a long nightshirt that hung to the middle of her thighs.

Jobe looked at the soldier and said, “If there’s no room for her, you’re walking with us.”

The soldier’s uncomfortable gaze followed the scars on Rosa’s arms, and he nodded, waving to the helicopter. “She can come along.”

“I thought so,” Jobe said. “Where are you going? You can’t take the orc to the hospital.”

“No, sir. We’ve got orders to take the orc to a temporary holding facility until more permanent arrangements can be made.”

“Can’t you be a bit more specific?”

“No, sir, sorry, sir. We might have to move the orc a few times, but for now, the facility is still in Texas. I’m sorry, sir, but that’s all I’m authorized to tell you.”

Rosa patted Jobe’s arm. “Let it go. They can take care of the orc, and you can’t.”

Jobe sighed and nodded. He leaned over, putting his head next to Rosa’s. “Okay, they’ll take you out of here, and we’ll hike home. We’ll meet up with you tomorrow, okay?”

Rosa hugged him. “Don’t get lost.”

Acting on a whim, she pulled him down by the back of his neck. He took the hint and pecked a kiss on her lips before she stepped back and let the soldier guide her into the cargo bay.

Jobe backed away, closing his eyes when the rotors began to throw up loose soil. The air stilled, and he looked up at the chopper. He felt sick to his stomach without warning, and he couldn’t stop staring at the rising aircraft.

George set a hand on his shoulder. “We should start heading back.”

“Give me a minute. I just want to make sure they have a head start.”

George laughed nervously. “What, you don’t think something will happen to the chopper, do you?”

“No, probably not, but my gut is aching, and I don’t think this is over yet.”

The statement didn’t sit well with any of the pack, but they held their comments while they stared at the helicopter.

When the craft began to descend again, Gavin remarked, “If you knew that would happen, why did you insist that Rosa should get on that ride?”

Jobe shook his head. “Because I didn’t know it until two seconds after the chopper took off.”

Gavin said, “Jobe, you’re just about useless as a psychic.”

He took off running, and George followed him only a moment later.

“If you’re running to the rescue, I can’t do it, “ Rachel said. “I’m sorry, but carrying the orc took everything I had left.”

Jobe said, “Follow our scent, and be careful.” He ran to catch up with Gavin and George.

Rachel shouted, “The same goes for you!”

***

Thursday, 10:15 pm

The helicopter was in the air less than two minutes when the orc woke up enraged. The soldier in the cargo bay aimed a tranquilizer pistol at the orc, but he was kicked by a flailing leg and spun sideways.

The dart he fired struck the co-pilot. The high dosage killed the co-pilot instantly, and the unfortunate soldier holding the tranquilizer pistol wobbled and spun out of the cargo bay,  screaming as he plunged to his death.

The pilot looked back and saw the orc kick the man out, and he pushed the flight stick down, cutting the engine power to head for the ground with a fast but controlled descent. The orc was thrashing around, too pained by his wound to know where he was, or what he was doing.

He smelled the pilot and lashed out with a clenched fist, slamming the pilot’s head sideways and snapping his neck.

The aircraft shuddered as the pilot’s hand spasmed around the flight stick. His other hand dragged the throttle back to a complete stop, and the helicopter dropped.

The rotors whirled in the falling wind, and the body of the helicopter started to spin.

Dave watched all of this with horror, because there was nothing he could do. He could not pilot a helicopter, and even if he knew how, he could not climb over the orc to reach the cockpit.

The aircraft hit the ground hard, and Dave’s head slammed against his chair.

***

Thursday, 10:19 pm

Dave woke up, opening his eye to stare at the deformed interior of the cargo bay. Sparks popped from the cockpit, drawing Dave’s gaze to the pilot. He looked at the sidearm strapped to the dead man’s thigh.

Dave got up to stagger over the orc’s limp legs. Vertigo made him wobble, and he came perilously close to falling over onto the orc when his vision dimmed.

He slung a hand out to grip the back of the pilot’s seat, and the other clasped his forehead while he tried to rub away the lingering dizziness.

When it passed, Dave unclasped the pilot’s harness, letting the body drop to the floor. He knelt down and took the sidearm first, tucking the barrel into the back of his jeans. Then stripping the flight suit off the body, he began tearing the fabric into long strips.

He braided the strips into a single rope, and then he crossed over the orc’s legs to bind Rosa again.

His reasons were different than the first time. The orc’s wound had put the beast into such an animal rage that he would likely kill Rosa, even if he didn’t mean to.

Rosa was so angry with Dave that she wouldn’t flee with him to safety. He would have to bind her to keep her safe, even if she didn’t see it that way.

Dave cringed as he thought, She doesn’t see anything, you moron. Christ, when did you switch  your brains for bullshit?

He finished hog-tying Rosa and cradled her on his chest, moving out of the cargo bay as quickly as he could. Then, once he’d moved Rosa to a safe distance, he returned to the chopper and took out the gun.

The two rounds he put in the orc’s skull did nothing to rouse him, but they didn’t stop the orc from breathing either.

Frowning a pained wince, Dave climbed back into the cargo bay and leaned over to examine the bulging wounds.

The bullets broke through the skin and flattened on his thick skull.

Gritting his teeth, Dave pushed the barrel between the orc’s ribs and yelled, “For fuck’s sake, will you die, already?”

He fired, and the orc’s rising hand slammed Dave out of the helicopter. He hit the ground and tumbled head over heels twice before he dropped onto his stomach.

The world dimmed in his vision, but he fought against the urge to pass out.

Coughing as he inhaled dust, Dave nodded. “Okay, yeah…that was a stupid idea.”

He shook himself and got to his feet, moving with an increased urgency now that the orc was awake.

He picked up Rosa, and the orc growled at him. Dave turned around, watching the grey monster pull himself out of the wrecked aircraft.

“You want her, big guy?” He staggered backward, scowling at the orc. “All you have to do is stop me, and you can have her.”

The orc snarled. His red eyes were filled with bloodlust, but he was in no condition to make a full speed charge.

He pushed himself away from the helicopter, his limping gait so slow that Dave could outpace him by walking.

Dave was hampered by his own injuries. He had yet more broken ribs and a torn knee ligament from the crash, and his hips still had a number of hairline fractures that made every step murder. Even speeding up to a fast walk was out of the question.

So began the world’s slowest chase as injured orc followed injured human away from the crash site.

Five minutes later, Dave recovered himself enough to “make a run for it,” by walking faster. It still drove hot nails into his hips and his knee, but the orc could not match his pace to keep up.

The hulking monster tried to speed up, and instead he dropped to the ground and shuddered while his huge arms closed around his gut.

Dave kept power-walking until his vision was filled with yellow spots. Then he dropped Rosa and hunched over to wheeze for air.

She stirred, trying to move her arms before she started to pant.

Rosa asked, “What did you do?”

Still resting on his hands and knees, Dave raised his head to glower at Rosa. “Me? I didn’t do a damn thing. Your best buddy woke up and killed the pilot, so we crashed. Now the orc is trailing us, and I can’t kill it. Not with this pea shooter.”

He laughed bitterly, realizing that he never before would have referred to a .45 as a pea shooter. But against the orc, the gun lacked the stopping power he needed.

He sat back on his haunches and stared at Rosa, who wouldn’t say anything else. Her grimy face was set in a look of bitter anger, and her whole body shook.

Dave recalled how Rosa had transformed during the day and without a full moon. She’d tapped into her feral side to release the panther inside.

Could he also trigger a transformation in himself?

Dave closed his eye, and he forced himself to venture into a fragmented memory of his dream. In his dreams, he’d always been in a thicker jungle, but his conscious mind filled in scenery from his surroundings.

The new waking dream took on more detail, and soon he could hear the grass tearing at his legs as he ran from the crash site.

But he wasn’t trying to avoid the orc. He ran to pursue the liger. At first, he could only hear the animal growling somewhere in the distance.

His mind’s eye focused, bringing the woods into perfect lucid detail. He felt every bramble that clutched at his legs, every sapling branch that slapped his chest and arms. His lungs burned with his efforts, and his already ravaged muscles ached with the strain of trying to catch up to the fearsome animal.

His skin broke out in an oily sweat. He was gaining on his inner beast, drawing closer until he could see it in the distance.

A broad, golden cat ran through the dark shadow-thick woods, his faded stripes hard to see in the low light.

The liger never slowed down, and he never got tired. He was grace and power, and Dave wanted to be a part of his world. Dave needed the animal’s power to overcome his enemy, and he could not back down or quit, not when he was so close to his goal.

He panted faster, and his body throbbed in time with his pounding heart. His feet thumped the ground in time with every beat, and as his pulse sped up, so did his legs. He was almost on top of the animal when he leapt and closed his arms around the liger.

Dave’s panting stopped, and a snarl ripped from his chest with a thunderous volume. His blood boiled in his veins, rippling through muscle and bone with equal speed.

The pain was intense, and Dave hadn’t been prepared for it. His limbs felt like they’d been fed into a meat grinder and then loosely reformed to resemble new shapes. The slicing heat forced a snarl from his throat, and his body contorted on the ground.

The magical curse bent his bones like cartilage, folding and lengthening his limbs in ways which Mother Nature had never intended. His clothing couldn’t contain his body, and the bones taking on new shapes strained his jeans and shirt to their breaking points.

His pain fed his rage, which in turn fed the animal inside him.

Then the animal turned on Dave, consuming his conscious mind. Everything that made him human was stripped away, leaving only a brutal killer.

***

Thursday, 10:24 pm

Url panted, his fangs locked over his lower lip and piercing holes in his flesh while he pushed at the hard lump of metal trapped inside him. He pushed and pinched the bullet back out through the hole it had made in his body.

Url was angry before when he found the cat-man using the cat-woman as bait. Real hunters had no need of such pathetic tricks, and Url didn’t care for the cat-man’s cowardly methods.

One of his wretched boom-sticks blasted a hole through Url’s gut and back. Only the druid magic kept Url from dying, and with his body devastated by the gaping wound, he was pushed to the point where he couldn’t think clearly.

He’d woken up to the same cat-man driving more of the hot metal bolts into his head, and then into his chest.

The cowardly hunter took the cat-woman again, always resorting to dirty tricks.

Url grunted the word in his language over and over. “Coward.”

He closed his eyes, curling into a ball while he started to shout, “Coward! Fight me! No run! No use weak bait! Fight me, coward!”

The transformation rippled over his body fast, and the boiling blood rushed to the open wounds to form new scars before hair began to sprout from the surface. His fur was still growing when the scars vanished.

Having been through the transformation before, the pain of the change was not so shocking. His voice remained a low growl as this bones changed shape.

His wounds healed, the giant black werebear shook himself and rose onto all fours. He opened his bloodshot eyes, sniffing at the air.

He found the scents of both werecats nearby and took off at a fast lope.

***

Thursday, 10:24 pm

Lucy was running at least a hundred yards ahead of John again, and he had to shout at her to slow down for his sake.

It was a humbling experience, because Lucy didn’t look like she was supposed to be that damned fast. Every bounding step carried her forward at an amazing speed, and John was on the verge of collapse trying to keep her in sight.

She stopped as she rose up over the top of a hill. John caught up, but instead of checking to see what she was watching, he shut his eyes and leaned over to gasp for air. His dry throat evoked a hard cough, driving him to his knees.

When he raised his head, his mind tried to reject what he saw.

In the distance was the crashed helicopter, lights still impossibly blinking to mark its position. People were running toward the helicopter, too far away for him to tell who. Their speed seemed impossible to him.

But this was not what John’s mind refused to process. At the base of the hill, two massive beasts faced off, their thick upper limbs entwined as the animals wrestled to push each other to the ground.

The black werebear looked like it should have had a size advantage, but the blond beast that looked like a lion with a short mane was able to keep pushing the bear off balance.

John’s memory blurred to the poster on his cousin’s wall, and he said, “Wereliger. I should have seen that coming.”

Lucy whispered, “What?”

“He’s got a huge fucking poster of a liger on his bedroom wall,” John muttered.

“Oh.”

Lucy said nothing else, and John couldn’t think of anything else to say either.

At the base of the hill the animals warred back and forth with neither gaining a decisive victory. Jaws snapped at exposed soft spots, and blood gushed from both fighters with alarming frequency.

But they were not animals. Animals did not have hands and feet, and animals did not wrestle in such a human way.

Unable to believe what he saw, John looked at Lucy. Her face was slack in a look of shock, much like his. Even if she wasn’t human, the scene playing out at the bottom of the hill was just as new for her as it was for him.

Her black eyes were filled with confusion, and he could almost see the thought through her wide pupils: Which one is the enemy?

She seemed to make a decision, and she dropped her hiking bag, unzipping the pouch on the back to pull out a huge nine-inch butcher knife. John was so stunned by the size that he cringed involuntarily.

Lucy’s face tensed into an animal mask that would have chilled the blood of the most hardcore human killer. Her brow knotted down to form a rigid hump that hid her eyes in pockets of shadow. The muscles around her cheekbones flared out, drawing her cheeks in and pulling her upper lip away from her growing fangs.

Her eyes were lost in pools of black, and with her transformation complete, she was a monster as terrifying as the nightmares battling less than a hundred yards away.

John was still trying to recover his voice when she took off down the hill. She jumped and sank the blade through the side of the wereliger.

***

Lucy had been uncertain of whether to help Dave or the orc-werebear. But when the wereliger bit through the bear’s shoulder and tore away a lump of flesh, she decided to jump in the fray and worry about the consequences later.

She hoped the orc wasn’t an ingrate.

Lucy extended her claws, sinking them through the hide of the wereliger to lock herself into place.

She pulled the knife free and sank the blade between two huge ribs again.

The wereliger didn’t notice her efforts because the first few wounds were minor compared to the savage bites of the orc-werebear.

But the nine-inch blade shredded his left lung, and then he couldn’t get enough air to keep up the struggle. His healing factor tried to repair the damage, but Lucy’s hand blurred, delivering wounds so quickly that the wereliger was at risk of drowning in his own blood.

When he noticed his predicament, he did the only thing he could, falling on top of the nuisance. His legs tucked under the bear’s gut, and the wereliger raked down hard, splashing blood and loose flesh on the ground.

Raising his legs again, he shoved off the orc-werebear, who flew back and slammed into a trunk. Doubling around the shuddering tree, the orc-werebear groaned and dropped to the ground in convulsions.

The wereliger rose onto his feet and turned to snarl at the bloodied woman who had wounded him. He dropped his hand to rake his claws across her chest.

The wereliger didn’t care for the scent of Lucy’s blood, and he reared back from his next attack, repulsed by the awful stench. He picked her up by a limp ankle, wrinkling his snout in distaste.

Dazed, Lucy stared into a mouth filled with fangs and waited to be bitten.

Instead the wereliger flicked his massive arm back, and slung her away. She sailed into a tree, and the weakest parts of the thin branch in front of her snapped under the impact.

But the remaining section of limb closest to the trunk held firm, and it slipped into her gut. Splintered wood pushed through her lower back and both of her shirts, spilling her blood out on the ground in a gruesome shower.

Lucy’s head slammed into the tree, but even in her dazed condition, the torment of impalement kept her from sliding into unconsciousness.

The weight of her lower body pulled at the wound, and pain assaulted every nerve in her chest and back.

Lucy drew in a ragged breath to let go of an agonized screech.

***

George froze when he heard Lucy scream, and he’d barely tensed his fists before his flesh was boiling.

Before Gavin or Jobe could say anything, he was moving mid-transformation, stumbling on limbs that were distending and contorting at odd angles.

George pitched forward, landing hard on his balled fists. He pumped his legs forward, shredding his pants as he set his weight again. His tattered clothes fell away from him, and he began to lope on all four limbs, picking up speed as his body finished shifting forms.

Gavin turned to ask, “Jobe—?”

His question was answered when Jobe started to swell and turn red.

Gavin ripped off his shirt and let the anger take him.

***

John crawled to the bag and started digging through it. Please, let the bitch have packed anything as a backup—

His hand closed over a flare, and he got up, running fast.

The wereliger was advancing on the dazed bear again.

John saw the shaggy blond head swing around toward him, and he noticed the one white eye.

He recognized his cousin, but it was clear the beast didn’t recognize him as kin. The beast’s menacing growl let him know that he was heading into the final seconds of his life.

The wereliger spun to face John and rose on two legs. His guttural roar sounded like a challenge and a laugh of contempt.

What threat was this little human? If a giant bear could not stop him, what could one puny man hope to accomplish?

The wereliger swung his arm down for a slashing attack, and John dropped onto his side, letting his forward momentum carrying him. His high school baseball skills came back to him, and he slid between the legs of the wereliger.

John’s shoulders were passing under the beast when his hands tensed around the flare. He twisted the cap, getting to his feet while the flare hissed to life. The wereliger was still turning when John stabbed the flaming tube through a slash in the beast’s bloody side.

John dropped into a backward somersault, barely avoiding a backhand swipe aimed for his head.

Then the liger realized something was cooking his insides, and he bellowed so loud that John was driven to the ground. He clapped his hands over his ears and shut his eyes.

It was a mistake, and he was still trying to get up when the wereliger punted him into the air. He flew for nearly twenty feet before he slammed into something soft and…furry?

He looked up into the face of an angry black dog, and then he uttered a terrified cry.

The weredog dropped John on his rump and stepped around in front of him.

Between his thin legs, John saw the wereliger pry the flare from his side. The golden beast spun and looked at him, ignoring the weredog altogether.

Then the weredog stood on two legs, and it reared back its head to bray a challenge to the wereliger.

***

Thursday, 10:31 pm

Rosa strained against her bonds, and her berserker screeched, He thinks he can use you because you’re weak. You’re pathetic. You’re not a threat, or even a thing to be concerned with.

“Shut up,” Rosa growled, contorting her body as she tried to pull her legs apart.

You want to let him use you again? Can’t you hear the fight? He’s winning, and you’ll just get tossed around. Give him to me, Rosa. Let me out.

“Shut up!” Rosa gasped for air, falling limply to the ground.

She was spent, and still no closer to freedom.

She started to sob, and the screeching, hate-fueled voice declared, Look at Rosa, ladies and gentlemen! I give you the most pathetic creature on Earth!

“Go away!”

You need me, Rosa. I can free you. I can tap into your beast, and then nothing can stop me. Let me out, Rosa. Let me out!

“No!”

Let me out, you stupid bitch! LET ME OUT! LET ME KILL!

Rosa curled into a ball, her mind struggling against two powerful forces. The werepanther was trying to seek out the berserker, and Rosa fought both of them, shoving the powerful entities back to keep them from reaching each other.

In her mind’s eye, the werepanther clawed at her on one side, tearing open old mental wounds to bleed out the words of the men who’d murdered her parents and destroyed her future.

You like that, slut? Yeah, you do. Took out your fucking eyes and you’re still moaning like a whore.

Cut her again, man. She’s fuckin’ cute when she squeals.

Your momma’s watching you in heaven, you little slut.

On her other side, the berserker pummeled her, screaming, Let me out, bitch! Stop fucking around and let me out!

Without warning, the two raging entities slipped through Rosa’s defenses, melting out of her mind and into her body to merge with her.

Rosa drew in a breath to shout, “No!”

Her voice rose in an animal screech of fury instead.

***

Weredog and wereliger collided. In spite of his wounds, the wereliger still had mass and speed working for him. He drove the weredog back, and the two beasts rolled on the ground followed by a plume of dust.

The wereliger raised himself to attempt an attack, and the weredog closed his jaws over the upper arm of the wereliger. His jaw locked, and he curled up under the wereliger, flaying flesh from an already ravaged flank with his back claws.

Rolling to avoid the attacks, the wereliger gripped the weredog’s throat, pulling hard to rip the locked muzzle away. Blood burst from his arm in gouts, but he ignored the pain and the damage as he tugged the weredog  free and slung him away.

The weredog leapt for another attack, and the wereliger hammered his fists in an overhead swing. Both fists struck the top of the weredog’s head, driving him to the ground and knocking him out.

Someone whistled, and the wereliger looked around at the berserker and the brown werebear. He reset himself into a two-legged stance and opened his mouth in a defiant roar. He would take any and all fighters. They were weak, and nothing could stand against him.

The berserker and Gavin both met his bellow with battle cries of their own, never slowing down as they charged the wereliger.

Sidestepping the werebear’s charge, the wereliger slung a backhand punch at the berserker. The red-skinned fighter blurred under the limb, leaping to deliver a devastating uppercut that broke the wereliger’s jaw.

Relying on Jobe’s training, the berserker spun, snapping a kick in the same place on the broken bone.

The wereliger tried to counter with a swing, but the berserker dropped under the limb.

The werebear slammed into the wereliger’s bloody side next. The animals tumbled in a long somersault, but the werebear had no training to rely on in the fight. The wereliger floated over the werebear’s back and gripped his gut, pulling him up and over. The werebear’s head slammed into the ground, dazing him.

But the move left the wereliger arched in a precarious position, and the berserker took the opportunity to drop a knee into the sternum of the overextended beast. The bone cracked, and pain exploded across the wereliger’s chest

Bellowing an agonized rage, the wereliger brought its head up to snap at the berserker, and his muzzle was pounded by a blurring fist. The berserker laid in nearly a dozen similar blows before the beast rolled to throw him off.

The berserker rolled onto his feet, but he was still raising his head when the wereliger struck him and sent him flying back again.

The wereliger took a step to advance on the berserker, but he paused when he heard a high-pitched screech.

He spun to look for the source, and through the trees, he found the blurring body of the werepanther. She was fast, running in a low crouch on all four limbs.

With the wereliger’s blood pouring out of him in levels that could only be called copious, he’d made an easy trail to follow. The werepanther sniffed him out, and every breath she inhaled was released a second later as a furious shriek.

She promised him the fight of his life, and he roared mocking laughter. She was nothing, and she would fail, as the others had.

The wereliger dropped onto all fours to meet her charge. His eyes widened when she jumped up and over him. He tried to twist around to catch her, and she landed on his side.

Unlike the others, she didn’t snap or claw at his thick hide. She moved lower, floating over his rolling body to go for his back legs.

She was so much smaller than him that he had nothing to bite, and his claws raked her back legs to little effect.

The werepanther snapped her short, powerful jaws over his ankle tendon and the wereliger bellowed. Gripping the panther’s tail, he tried to sling her away. She caught her claws on the ground, slowing herself down instantly. She slid only a few yards away, and she blurred into motion, circling around him.

The wereliger tried to stand and follow her, but he pitched forward when the wounded leg refused to bear weight. She’d torn away a chunk of the tendon, and he couldn’t heal the damage fast enough.

Suddenly anxious, the wereliger tried to snarl a warning for her to stay back. Instead, he told her where he was, and he confirmed that she was facing his backside.

She charged, her mouth open and snapping at his good leg. His shin broke, and he dropped onto his back, roaring in agony.

She was on top of him before he could recover. Her lower legs moved to straddle his chest and his arms, and then she dropped, trapping him with no way to defend himself.

The werepanther drew back to slash her claws over the side of his face and neck. Her arms blurred, and the ground became soaked with his blood.

Her fingers tightened into fists, and she pummeled the wereliger’s head and shoulders. She screeched in righteous fury, but the wereliger heard nothing she said.

***

The berserker gaped as he watched the closing moments of the fight. Blood and bodies littered the clearing. The only creature moving was the werepanther, who continued to beat the unconscious wereliger.

Under her screeching, the berserker heard footsteps. He turned his head over his shoulder, and Rachel was behind him, her mouth hanging open as she surveyed the carnage.

She was growing paler, and before he looked away, she doubled over to retch bile.

Gavin recovered and started to move around the berserker. The berserker settled a hand on the werebear’s flank and said, “Check on John. I’ll calm her down.”

He approached the snarling werepanther, his crimson face pulling into a pained grimace as he listened to the wet crunch that came from every blow.

“Rosa,” he called in a rumbling voice.

He made a smacking sound when she stopped screeching, and her head spun to focus on the sound. “Rosa, come on over here. You beat him, and he’s not getting up.”

Rosa growled, the sound full of raw anguish.

Her primitive thoughts explained more than her voice could. She wasn’t just taking out her anger for his actions. She was hurting him to pay back the men who’d hurt her. She was venting her pain at having her family stolen from her, and she was giving release to the darkest desires of her berserker, who she had denied for so long.

The berserker dropped the volume of his voice. “Come on, now. You won, and he’s going to go away for a long time. You don’t have to kill him to prove yourself, okay?”

Growling, the werepanther turned away from him, lowering her head as she opened her mouth wide. She closed her teeth over the throat of the wereliger, but she froze when the berserker laid his hand on her flank.

He slid his palm around her back, and his other hand slipped under her stomach in a loose embrace.

Laying his head on her side, the berserker said, “He’s done, Rosa. Just calm down, and I’ll take you home. You want to go home, don’t you?”

Rosa released her hold on the wereliger. She slumped on the berserker, and her limbs dropped over his back.

Her soft whine spoke of pain that could never be healed.

The berserker closed his eyes, and he began to shed the tears that Rosa couldn’t.

The darkness blossomed into stunning white light.

Pulling away from the werepanther, the berserker let Jobe take back over once he saw Erick.

Sighing, Jobe gestured around the clearing. “Now you decide to show up?”

“I came back as soon as I could, but Darryl’s English lesson took a lot out of me,” Erick said. “There’s a barrier between Lissand and Earth that causes time to dilate in our—”

Jobe cut him off. “I don’t care what time it is in elf-land. Do you have the collars or not?”

“Yes, plus extra collars for later.” Erick took a bag from his shoulder and held it out to Jobe. “Maybe you should handle the task, since the pack trusts you.”

Jobe shook his head. “Not now. We need to get back to the lake fast, and then we can call our bosses to help contain Dave and the orc.”

Erick nodded. “All right, I can help with that.”

Jobe was going to ask what Erick meant when a shadow portal opened under his feet, and he fell into perfect darkness along with the werepanther and wereliger.

Blind Rage - Chapter 22, 5.0 out of 5 based on 1 rating

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... I write dark fiction in a variety of genres. My blog contains my rants and rambles, and some short fiction that can only be found here. I can be pretty fucking offensive, so viewer discretion is advised.

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This entry was posted on Monday, July 20th, 2009 at 7:36 pm and is filed under Blind Rage, Dark Fantasy, Werekin, my writing. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.