To be continued in something else
The night was cold. Most humans without a coat would have headed to the nearest shelter that they could locate. Dante, though, wasn’t human at all. His kind used to hunt humans; and now the humans hunt them. Werewolves predate humans, but humans could quickly outnumber them as there are so few Were’s in the states. Even though he could gut 15 before he went down, still he had to be careful. Yes, it was very true that he had resentment toward humans, but they never gave him much of a choice. Yet, even though he resented the humans, it was his kind, his pack that betrayed him. They had taken the most precious gift the Moon Goddess could have given, his daughter, Celestina, and mate, Jackyln.
Clayton, his former Alpha wanted to have Jacklyn as his own. When Dante refused to give her up to him, Clayton took that as a challenge to his power. Clayton made the pack kill them while he was forced to watch. They beat him severely, and left him for dead. Clayton thought he’d put his nail in his coffin when he ripped the tender flesh of his throat. The memories of them threatened to cloud his vision, and with a quick shake of his head the memories dissipated like wisps of smoke. The wind began to pick up violently, threatening to snatch the black leather fedora from his head. Dante could feel a multitude of eyes trying to penetrate his billowing trench coat. The weight of the dark leather backpack felt good on his shoulders. If the people he passed knew the arsenal he carried underneath his coat they would make it their business to walk on the other side of the street.
His heavy boots provided a periodic ‘thunk’ on the pavement with his each step and with each step his heart beat wildly, more so than it had done in a while. It was the thrill of the hunt that was working him up into a frenzy. He was only going to be here for a short amount of time. He had a bounty he was after. His skin itched irritably which is one of the signs that alerted him to the changing of the Moon. He could still remember his first change.
The excruciating pleasure of his bones breaking only to reform into a thicker, sturdier, then an average wolf, but far more powerful than his human form. The smell of everything becomes much more accurate. As it stands even his human senses allows him to pick out the most insignificant thing even in the rain. Wolves had long lives, especially those who were of pure blood like him.
Remembering his first change also reminded him of his lost love. His Jacklyn. She was a feisty wolf, and always challenged him. She was the only one to beat him in the battle to the top of the mountain. The object of the game was to wrestle every wolf on each tier until you made it to the top to be declared the winner. If one of the wolves were to beat you then they would go on to try to win. The game would usually last an entire day. Jacklyn beat him on the final tier; their battle lasted nearly three days. She over powered him in the end due to him slipping on rubble. At the end she placed her paw upon his furry chest, and howled to signal her dominance.
Unfortunately, for him he had boasted his win before he started, and taken the bet of one month of her bidding. She placed him into her servitude with six words, “Now, your wolf belongs to me...” That was nearly 15 years ago, and although he has lost a lot of his boyish features, he has a few new scars, but each one a scar to be proud of, a symbol of battles to remember.
An old theater loomed ahead of him like a sentinel waiting for the moment to strike. Passing the entrance without even a look his nostrils were assaulted by the strong smell of popcorn, butter, and human. He came to an alley connected to the movie theater, as he turned to walk down the alley he pulled out the info he had on the bounty he was on. There were reports of people missing around the local library leaving their personal belongings behind. It reeked of either a vampire or a werewolf. A bloodsucker would be for the blood while a wolf would be after the heart and whatever else they could eat. Since no bodies showed up it was probably a family of wolves. The alley took him to Main Street and he turned left, a few blocks down was the local library. Dante guessed the library and the courthouse across the street were built at the same time; both seemed to be constructed of the same gray granite Greco-Roman architecture.
"Mr. Bleddyn." Dante was walking slowly up the steps that led into the main section of the library when he heard his name...or at least the alias he was using. He had made contact with Mrs. Eddington a few days ago before he made it into town. So far his luck was holding up. All he needed to do was finish this bounty, bring in the heads and get paid.
"Hi, Mrs...,” he acted as though he couldn't place her name. Of course he knew it, he however was supposed to be playing the part of a private investigator.
"Eddington." The elderly librarian offered.
Dante smiled, "Sorry, I'm not good with names." He stepped up to the elderly woman who smelled like she bathed in a tub of Bengay. It made his nose twitch uncomfortably, but still he wore a smile like a mask to cover up his revulsion. He took the fedora from his head allowing his shoulder length brown hair to fall freely, then held out a hand for the woman to take showing her a toothy smile.
She had long grey hair twisted up into a tight bun, and only came just under his shoulder so Dante guessed she was around 5'5 because she had to look up to his tall frame when speaking. She had old tired blue eyes that were slightly clouded and wore plain solid colors. Today she had a slate grey skirt with a grey coat over a satin white blouse.
“So nice to meet you,” he lied, the smooth tone of his voice seemed to put any misgivings she had at ease.
She smiled at him warmly.
“Can you show me where the belongings of the people I talked to you about before are located?” he smiled.
“Yes, Mr. Bleddyn, right away.” she replied, turning on the spot to head into the library.
The library had marble floors and seemed to have been recently cleaned as there was a heavy smell of bleach. The book shelves were made of a deep red mahogany filled with a multitude of books well lit by the overhead lights that cast shadows in the corners. Another smell that hit Dante under the bleach when he stepped inside the library was the scent of wolf. It hit him like a ton of bricks. It reminded him of his time in the forests of Seattle, pine trees, rich rain soaked earth, but there was another unmistakable smell, blood. The beast within him recognized the smell with fond memories of stalking the hunters that would happen upon his den, then the way they would try to get away from his wolf. The memory brought a smile to his face, however the smell of the other wolf inside the library brought the growl that had been building up in his core to his lips. It made Mrs. Eddington turn around sharply.
She caught the sight of Dante’s face and her hand instantly went to her neck in a protective manner, “Is there something wrong Mr. Bleddyn?” she asked, the fear on her face was evident by the shakiness of her voice.
“Is there anyone else in the library tonight?” Dante asked, unable to stop the chill in his voice.
Mrs. Eddington looked as if he had struck her, “N-n-no. I mean-y-yes.” she stuttered.
His hands gripped her shoulders as he bore his jade green eyes into her, “Who?”
“The night janitor and my new assistant Gretchen Crowley.” she blurted.
“Hmm...I’ll need information on everyone that works in the library.” Dante said, getting himself under control again.
“Oh, yes, right away,” she bustled her way across the library toward a desk littered with papers.
Dante followed her quickly shadowing her every step, while thinking of a way to get rid of her, so his work could really begin.
“Her information should be around here somewhere,” she assured, sitting in a chair rifling through the loose papers looking at names then discarding the papers into a pile to her left.
Dante’s keen ears picked up a noise coming from the back of the building. He could smell a strong scent of crushed pine needles and dirt. His attention was snatched away by the movement of a shadow. In the moment it took him to follow that shadow he heard a muffled gurgle come from where he had last seen Mrs. Eddington.
Turning back around he saw the older woman sitting up straight with a hand through her chest holding her still beating heart. Dark red blood fell freely onto the desk while her heart beat for a few seconds before stopping completely. Her eyes had clouded over entirely. The woman’s murderer shared his deep olive skin, but her eyes were amber gold with silky black hair that cascaded down her back. She had on a suit that was similar to the older woman’s with the exception of the passion pink colored blouse that was now sprayed with red.
“That old crone deserved it,” the woman said.
“Not your call bitch,” Dante hissed.
The woman dropped the heart and extracted her hand from the chest of the old woman leaving her to fall slumped over the desk she had been working at not ten minutes ago.
“My name isn’t bitch, it’s Larentia, you traitorous bastard that hunts your own kind,” Larentia spat.
Dante could feel her working herself up. Her scent was changing and far more powerful now that she was in the open. Yet, there another scent he was picking up. He pulled two mercury laden daggers from the inside of his coat then while keeping an eye on Larentia took his coat and bag off and dropped them to the floor.
“You can’t kill me you idiot,” she snapped.
The two cautiously circled one another. Larentia swiped at him, more to judge his reflexes and her reach then to harm. He parried with the mercury dagger. Larentia pulled back before the dagger could connect.
“If I am the idiot, why do you stay back?” Dante taunted her.
Larentia shifted into an impressive wolf form. Sleek and muscular, she rose on her hind legs and stood nearly as tall as him. In her current shape, she stood nearly six feet high. As she was now, she was also stronger and quicker than his human form. Conventional lycan wisdom stated all challenges should be fought as wolves during the three moon phase. Human forms simply could not match their wolf counterparts. But Dante was never one to follow convention.
He stood his ground in front of her, still completely human. Seeing that Dante was not shifting, Larentia sneered and advanced on him.
She growled, and then she pounced, claws heading straight for his throat. He dodged low and to the left, using his dagger to parry her arms aside. The blade cut a line across her arm. Her skin and blood bubbled where the mercury had touched it. Larentia howled in pain. Snarling, she turned back to face him, swiping her arm across to bat aside the blade as he lunged it at her back. Her claws raked his arm.
Brown fur streaming behind her, she rushed at him low, trying to tackle his knees and knock him down. Dante threw his hips far out to the right and she missed his legs by inches. He plunged his dagger into her exposed back as she lashed out at his legs. Off-balanced as he was, he missed her spine by inches. Larentia roared out as, once again, her skin bubbled and smoked around the mercury blade. Her momentum moved her past him. Dante was forced to either pull the dagger back out or leave it imbedded.
Choosing quickly, he held tightly onto his blade. He wouldn’t allow her a chance to use his own weapon against him. As she rounded on him again, Dante noticed a fiery pain shooting up his leg. It bled freely. He had not escaped her last pass untouched.
They faced off again, each with new respect for the other. Two passes and each of them wounded twice. She stood hunched over, her back still smoking. Dante favored his leg. The female had cut him deep, deeper than he first realized. He should have noticed sooner. His lycan regenerative abilities would take a while to heal this serious of a gash. At least a minute, maybe two. In a battle, anything could happen in a minute.
Dante didn’t let his pain show. He refused to give her that pleasure.
As he considered the female, he felt a deep anger building in him. It was his beast trying to come out. The lycan part of him screamed for release from this puny, weak, human form. It would pounce on her, sink its teeth into her tender throat and rejoice as her blood rained down on him. Its claws would shed her hide. It would tear the meat from her bones and eat well. It would...
“No!” he thought to it. “I am no mindless animal! I am more than that! You are my tool, my weapon, and I choose when you come! Not you!”
He forcefully shoved his beast back into the farthest reaches of his mind. But the distraction cost him dearly.
Dante suddenly found himself falling backwards, Larentia leaping on him. Her claws dug into his shoulders. Pain shot through him as her teeth sank into his right collar bone. Ignoring it, he ducked his chin and curved his back to help absorb the impact of his fall. Kicking out with his legs, he caught her in the gut and used her own momentum to throw her over him. His wounded leg gave out. With just one leg, he couldn’t toss her far. Larentia’s jaw still clenched his shoulder and, as she flew over him, her teeth tore out gouges in his flesh. Despite himself, Dante cried out.
He quickly struggled to his feet. He was far too exposed lying on the floor. Glancing her way, he was relieved to see her moving slowly, apparently stunned from the throw. He took a second to analyze his injuries. His leg was still weak and that limited his movement. Not good. With some relief, he did notice that he lost one dagger, but could still hold the other, but his right hand shook with the effort. It was pure luck she hadn’t rendered his arm useless. He grimaced. Dante disliked relying on luck, preferring instead to trust in his skills.
On the other side of Larentia, Dante noticed another female, watching closely. She looked at him, then quickly glanced behind him. Her eyes widened.
“Look out!”
Dante was already dropping the dagger and drawing out the pistol in his waistband before she’d cried out. In a challenge, only claws, teeth or blades could be used. But the lycan sneaking up behind him was already violating the rules of a challenge, interfering with one-on-one combat. Dante could use any weapon he chose on the newcomer.
He pulled the trigger repeatedly. He aimed at the male’s central body mass, trusting the hollow-point mercury bullets to do the rest. Shots echoed loudly in the immense library, temporarily deafening everyone there. Gore flew out from behind the newcomer and splattered over the book shelves. The dead lycan collapsed.
Dante had taken his eyes off of Larentia, and had given her his back to attack, but pure fighting instinct saved Dante’s life. He fell to his left knee grabbed his fallen dagger and swung, high and diagonally, behind him. The blade cut through Larentia’s chest and up into her neck. She fell backwards from him, shocked.
Lying on the ground, unable to talk, she bared her throat to him. It was an ancient display of submission and an acknowledgment of her defeat. She lay there, waiting for her regenerative powers to heal her.
Dante calmly watched her; mildly curious to see how long it would take her to notice.
A look of confusion appeared on Larentia’s features. She shifted back into her human form and touched her still bleeding throat. It was not healing. Her life blood pumped through her fingers.
The corner of Dante’s mouth turned up in a tight smile as a look of horror dawned on Larentia’s face. His amusement never touched his eyes. They looked down at her, completely devoid of emotion.
Larentia’s mouth opened in a silent denial as she died.
Dante calmly reached down and collected his mercury dagger. He noticed with satisfaction that his leg supported his weight better. Also, his dagger trembled only slightly in his grasp. Better, much better. There were definite advantages to being lycan. Unless, of course, a lycan was injured with a mercury laden blade. He shot an amused glance at the corpse.
Looking at the little wolf, he nodded his thanks then stood trying to decide if he should kill her too. He could smell wolf all over her. He had a flashing image of his baby girl, and couldn’t bring himself to do it. It reminded him also of another he allowed to go free. Strangely enough she shared the same nickname as his mate, Jack.
He had been on a hunt looking for a bloodsucker that preyed upon people in the local area. Lionel was a real bastard. He had been 10 on the most wanted list, and right in Dante’s cross-hairs.
He could still hear the heavy sound of his boots hitting pavement until he came across a scene that made his heart sink, and filled him with rage. Lionel laughed as she fed on his blood. Jack looked up at him still feeding on Lionel’s blood. Even as she had Vamp blood filling her mouth she was still beautiful. He met her on his long bus rides trying to catch Lionel. She would always get on during the ride downtown, and for several months straight he had ridden the 340 county buses to the end of the line. He would watch her sometimes as she sat staring out of the window listening to her ipod. It had been years since he had the desire to be with another, but something about this woman drew him to her.
Dante made his move to talk to her after a week of riding the bus with her.
"A special gift, Hunter for such a merry chase." Lionel gloated with a broad smile.
"Get off her, Lionel." Dante Commanded.
The vampire batted Jack away as if she were a fly to be rid of. She crashed back against the dumpster, her head slamming against the rusty metal container with bone breaking on impact.
"You have it wrong, friend." Lionel flashed his fangs in a toothy grin. "She was on top of me and was enjoying herself until you came along."
Cold bitter hatred burned its way throughout his body at the sight of the woman he had feelings for lying battered and broken with vamp blood in her. It was no doubt she would turn. Dante came close to losing his shit. Hate filled words spilled out of him like bad sushi. Before he knew what was happening he was emptying an entire clip of crucifix blessed bullets into Lionel’s body. It wasn’t enough; if Lionel was going to die it wouldn’t just be from a bullet.
Dante pounced on him, first ripping out an arm then using that to beat sense into him, second placing a boot in his mid-section while pulling on his head in an upward position then with a fluid motion taking it the other way pulling it off cleanly. Blood spurt into the night then fell harmlessly to the ground as the clouds over head finally burst free allowing rain to fall like tears to clear away the blood and gore that was once Lionel.
Dante placed Lionel’s head in his bag, then took his leather jacket off and placed it over Jack. He picked her up effortlessly and went off into the night; there was still much work to do.
He let the memory fade just like all the others.
"Beat it kid," Dante commanded.
The girl didn't need telling twice, she turned to run.
"Here, use this to stay off the street for a while," he said, tossing her a thick roll of bills.
She said nothing as she ran out of one the exits. He picked his coat and bag up then looked over at Mrs. Eddington slumped dead over her desk. With a sigh, he looked around at all of the old books on the mahogany shelves. He bent with a groan and grabbed his second dagger while placing the first in its sheath at his side. Using the second he went about relieving the two lycans of their heads. Once the deed was done he placed them in his bag and made his way back to his safe-house, then he would go somewhere he could have a stiff drink.
After depositing the heads securely in the place he was holding up for his tenure here. He grabbed a change of clothes, and made arrangements for his bounty then went out for his drink. Dante made his way gingerly down the street where he noticed with each step he regained the strength and use of his leg that had been injured. A neon sign of a guy drinking a martini and slapping a woman's ass seemed to call out to him, so he answered that call.
He had gone to the bar, hoping for a strong drink and a cigarette. At first he thought this place had gone the same route as so many other states; smoking was no longer allowed in public buildings. But, for once on this trip, something seemed to be going in his favor. As he entered the seedy bar, he saw one man sipping at what appeared to be whiskey and smoking a cigarette.
Standing in the door way he had a good view of everyone in the bar, including a large pot belly of a man smoking a cigar. He looked and smelled like he was in need of a shower, but at the moment he allowed the t-shirt he was wearing to catch the ashes from the cigar he was smoking. His grunt seemed to get the attention of the bartender. With a glance at the bartender Dante knew his night couldn’t get any worse. He cursed himself as he walked up to the bar taking a seat next to a blonde who clearly had way too much to drink as her speech was slurring. He didn’t take his eyes off of the bartender though. She was a beautiful woman very familiar to him.
He pulled up to the bar, lighting up a Djarum Black. The bartender opened her mouth then closed it again, and by the look in her eyes she hadn’t planned on seeing him again. On the other hand he hadn’t planned on seeing her again until she appeared on his bounty list, and even then he doubted he would be able to take her head.
The smoke escaped his mouth in a plume, obscuring his vision, and casting her in a smokey frame.
“It’s been a long time Jack.” Dante greeted.