Three large, black animals suddenly jumped out from a darkened corner on the right side of the property. Their long, raven hair matted with dirt and other debris, and their tall ears were cut up, scab infested and missing their pointed tips. They were werewolves, but werewolves that had been through some shit.
At first I was confused by them being here in this way, because there was no full moon, but then I remembered Cora telling me about the purebred werewolves that stayed werewolves at all times. The ones that turned that guy Owen into one. The ones that started this all. But what the hell was Master doing with them? Did he have them chained up in his basement for whenever he needed backup?
God…I obviously wasn’t the only thing he collected over time. I had to wonder what else he might have stored away.
The werewolves charged at us, at first all together, until they broke apart to get each of us on our own. One was heading right toward me, and as it got within a few feet, I leaped into the air and floated over it, landing behind the beast. Its paws slid across the snow, trying to stop itself so it could turn around and come and get me, but the moment it turned, Max charged into it with his entire body and knocked it onto its back. I didn’t even see or hear Max coming. While the werewolf squirmed against the snow, Max stood on top of it and mauled the thing. Blood and fur polluted the air, but the creature was still fighting. I ran over to the two, balled up my fists, and punched my hand straight into the werewolf’s chest. Squishy, wet, thick substances lathered around my hand and up to my elbow as I dug through to find its heart. The creature howled. My fingers touched something meaty, something pounding, and I wrapped my grasp around it and yanked it back through the hole that I had created. Its heart thudded one last time against my palm, and then the werewolf passed.
Max’s long, brown face was only inches from mine, and his pale, animalistic eyes stared. I knew it was Max and he had full control of himself, but it wasn’t Max’s face I was looking at. He looked just like the asshole who ended my life. No matter how hard I reminded myself that I wasn’t in danger, I was still uncomfortable. These things scared the shit out of me.
I couldn’t read his mind or even communicate with him, but something in his stare told me that he needed me to find Cora and protect her. Maybe it’s because I knew it’s what he wanted, or maybe it’s because it’s what I wanted. Either way, I knew what I had to do.
I wiped my bloodied hand across the back pocket of my jeans and said, “I’ll take care of her. Don’t worry.”
Max darted off toward the remaining two werewolves. As I ran across the snowy field to find Cora, the sounds of yipping, growling, and howling grew louder and louder. He was fighting them on his own, and I hoped he would come out on top.
I didn’t slow down my pace even when I glanced back to find Max, to see if he was okay. Instead, my eyes focused on Master, who was floating in front of the castle, the moonlight shining down on his blackened wings. He wasn’t making any attempt to intervene in Max’s fight, or to even come after me. He was just… watching. Waiting.
I spotted brownish-red hair in the distance, and I knew I had found Cora. She’d been tossed near the gate that Max had broken down, and was on her knees in the snow, her back facing me and her hands busy in her lap. Cora held something heavy and dark, but there was so much snow building up around her, I couldn’t tell what it was. I ran toward her and saw that it was part of the fence in her hands, and she was trying to wiggle one of the beams free. For a weapon, maybe?
I placed my hand on her shoulder. “Cora! Are you okay?” I asked. With so many werewolves and vampires around, it was easy to forget she was human and had very human aches and pains.
Cora said nothing, and continued to furiously detach the beam from the gate. “I have to,” she panted. A beam broke free, and immediately she put it to her throat.
“Cora!” I screamed, and knocked it out of her hand.
“I need it!” she yelled back at me, throwing herself into the snow in search of it.
It was the goddamn hypnosis Master put her under. The second I fought back, it took effect, and now she was desperate to slit her own throat. I yanked her off of her hands and knees and pulled her closer to me, locking our eyes. “You don’t want to slit your throat. You want to live,” I told her. But it felt like I was talking to a wall. Her eyes looked the same, her mania stayed the same, and the second I let go of the collar of her coat, she dove back into the snow for the object. It was like watching an addict trying to get a quick fix. Or watching Cora in a fudge shop.
We fought for a minute, and all I could think
