rolled
to one side and swiped me with a huge paw-hand, his claws shredding
my nylon vest as I was thrown backward. I back flipped over,
landing lightly on my feet, a dark chuckle forcing its way from my
mouth. The blackness was amused.
Weres and vamps are tough to damage with
regular weapons, only silver makes a real impression. But physical
injuries from hand-to-hand combat are different somehow. It’s far
more damaging and can be ultimately lethal. George was healing but
slower than a steel knife wound or gunshot with lead. He was a
brand new were and his instincts were skewed, mixed as they were
with human ones. Up until this point he had fought as confident
predator, but now some part of him was realizing he was losing this
fight, and badly.
His spine re-grown, he shot from the ground,
charging me head on. At three hundred pounds and almost seven feet
tall he was not something to go-toe-to toe with. So, of course, I
did, and I laughed.
Holding his throat to keep those deadly jaws
at bay, I took the beating of his claws on my torso, my ribs and
skin Hardened. With my free right hand I uppercut, hard, fast. Like
a jackhammer. My vest was shredded, my skin cut, healed, and cut
again. He, however was beginning to fade. My blows were crushing
and recrushing his ribs, sternum, bursting organs and blasting bone
fragments throughout his torso.
It’s a fact of life that older weres and
vamps heal faster than newbies. George couldn’t keep up.
His blows grew feeble and finally, I threw
him down in disgust. Now he lay on his side, panting, and instead
of a growl, he let out a whimper. A whimper! Like a lost puppy, hit
by a car.
That whimper cut through the blackness like a
razor, cut straight to observer-me. Cut me to the core.
I was back in control, the rage
snuffed and shoved away, locked down by my self-disgust. My job was
to put down a rogue. That’s it. Clean, precise, merciful. This was
nothing like merciful. I had never even grabbed silver. No, my
intent, it seems, had been to beat the poor, insane, desperate,
man-creature in front of me to death with my hands.
The yellow light of insanity dimmed in his
eyes, leaving a very human-looking pupil in an oversized socket.
That eye, light blue in color, begged for release. Release from the
pain, release from the madness, release before he could murder.
The silver dart found its way into my hand
without thought, and I approached him with my side turned away to
hide it. He focused on me, his eye hopeful, and when I slid the
needle through the back of his skull, he didn’t seem to feel it.
But as the light faded from his gigantic eye, the look changed from
begging for release, to pity. Pity for me.
I turned my head and puked.
Chapter 13
“ My secret side I keep hid
under lock and key. I keep it caged, but I can’t control it, ‘cause
if I let him out, he’ll tear me up, break me down…”-
Skillet
I returned to the campsite, unsure of what I
would find or not find. The young guy was still lying on the
ground, hopefully just knocked out. The girl had found a flashlight
and was shining it about, trying to find the monsters in the dark.
It suddenly struck me that she had had to listen to unholy combat,
completely unable to see what was happening. Her heart was beating
as fast as a scared rabbit, but she wasn't panicking and when she
pinned me with the bright beam of her light, I decided she wasn't
very rabbit-like.
“Do you mind? The light?” I asked, keeping my
voice low and quiet.
She dropped the beam to my chest and legs,
giving me a chance to get my first good look at her. It was quite a
look. She was naked except for a pink thong, and not especially
aware of it.
Some people will run out of a burning house
with nothing on and not be aware of it for a while. This was
different. She wasn't so much unaware of her lack of clothes as she
was unconcerned. Her eyes were wide and green, alert and nervous,
but not blank with shock or catatonic with fear
to one side and swiped me with a huge paw-hand, his claws shredding
my nylon vest as I was thrown backward. I back flipped over,
landing lightly on my feet, a dark chuckle forcing its way from my
mouth. The blackness was amused.
Weres and vamps are tough to damage with
regular weapons, only silver makes a real impression. But physical
injuries from hand-to-hand combat are different somehow. It’s far
more damaging and can be ultimately lethal. George was healing but
slower than a steel knife wound or gunshot with lead. He was a
brand new were and his instincts were skewed, mixed as they were
with human ones. Up until this point he had fought as confident
predator, but now some part of him was realizing he was losing this
fight, and badly.
His spine re-grown, he shot from the ground,
charging me head on. At three hundred pounds and almost seven feet
tall he was not something to go-toe-to toe with. So, of course, I
did, and I laughed.
Holding his throat to keep those deadly jaws
at bay, I took the beating of his claws on my torso, my ribs and
skin Hardened. With my free right hand I uppercut, hard, fast. Like
a jackhammer. My vest was shredded, my skin cut, healed, and cut
again. He, however was beginning to fade. My blows were crushing
and recrushing his ribs, sternum, bursting organs and blasting bone
fragments throughout his torso.
It’s a fact of life that older weres and
vamps heal faster than newbies. George couldn’t keep up.
His blows grew feeble and finally, I threw
him down in disgust. Now he lay on his side, panting, and instead
of a growl, he let out a whimper. A whimper! Like a lost puppy, hit
by a car.
That whimper cut through the blackness like a
razor, cut straight to observer-me. Cut me to the core.
I was back in control, the rage
snuffed and shoved away, locked down by my self-disgust. My job was
to put down a rogue. That’s it. Clean, precise, merciful. This was
nothing like merciful. I had never even grabbed silver. No, my
intent, it seems, had been to beat the poor, insane, desperate,
man-creature in front of me to death with my hands.
The yellow light of insanity dimmed in his
eyes, leaving a very human-looking pupil in an oversized socket.
That eye, light blue in color, begged for release. Release from the
pain, release from the madness, release before he could murder.
The silver dart found its way into my hand
without thought, and I approached him with my side turned away to
hide it. He focused on me, his eye hopeful, and when I slid the
needle through the back of his skull, he didn’t seem to feel it.
But as the light faded from his gigantic eye, the look changed from
begging for release, to pity. Pity for me.
I turned my head and puked.
Chapter 13
“ My secret side I keep hid
under lock and key. I keep it caged, but I can’t control it, ‘cause
if I let him out, he’ll tear me up, break me down…”-
Skillet
I returned to the campsite, unsure of what I
would find or not find. The young guy was still lying on the
ground, hopefully just knocked out. The girl had found a flashlight
and was shining it about, trying to find the monsters in the dark.
It suddenly struck me that she had had to listen to unholy combat,
completely unable to see what was happening. Her heart was beating
as fast as a scared rabbit, but she wasn't panicking and when she
pinned me with the bright beam of her light, I decided she wasn't
very rabbit-like.
“Do you mind? The light?” I asked, keeping my
voice low and quiet.
She dropped the beam to my chest and legs,
giving me a chance to get my first good look at her. It was quite a
look. She was naked except for a pink thong, and not especially
aware of it.
Some people will run out of a burning house
with nothing on and not be aware of it for a while. This was
different. She wasn't so much unaware of her lack of clothes as she
was unconcerned. Her eyes were wide and green, alert and nervous,
but not blank with shock or catatonic with fear
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