Dylan Vorcla froze in panic. The restless threshing of the trees stirred up by a light breeze roared like a tornado in his preternaturally sensitive ears. The Touch of the Moon clawed at him; he desperately struggled against the Change. He could feel its power, its insistent call, surging through him, tugging viciously at his mind.
And Gemma was hurrying up the path toward him!
The urge to kill and devour her was almost overwhelming. He wanted only to sink deadly fangs deep into her soft, warm flesh and rip it from her supple body, tear her apart with razor-keen claws. The Wolf inside raged at him to slaughter her and feed upon her. Long, lethal talons had sprouted reflexively from his fingernails once again, and sandy golden fur began to bristle all over his body.
Bushes rustled just a few feet away.
Kill her! the Wolf snarled in his mind.
You must kill the one you love! Her tender flesh will taste so sweet...
"Michael? Honey...are you all right?"
The sound of her voice finally galvanized him into action. He began to sprint at incredible, inhuman speed - as far away from Gemma as he could. His Wolfen half howled in outrage, incensed at being cheated of his prey, but Dylan kept running, bounding over the soft turf of the path as fast as he could go. He fought to ignore the blood lust that grew stronger with each passing moment as the baleful crimson orb of the full moon rose higher in the calm, violet sky that was as still as a forest pool.
He would only be able to stave it off for so long...
The trail he followed led along the coast. Moonight gilded the trees in silver, and the inky moors glimmered with phosphoresence. The sea crashed on the rocky shore to his right as he ran. Instinct was taking over, threatening to submerge the dwindling human aspects of his mind.
The feeble spark of consciousness that was Dylan Vorcla slipped beneath a tidal wave of blood lust. He struggled to the surface again and again, fighting to retain his humanity for as long as he could, knowing that every second he held on was buying time for Gemma.
Dylan ran on and on until his chest heaved and his blood burned. Sweat gleamed on his face and his bare chest, and matted his hair. The throbbing in his head was merciless. His entire body was on fire and itched intolerably. He felt as if a million insects were crawling all over him.
He would not be able to last much longer...
His body began to shapeshift. He hopped on one foot for a moment and stripped off his jeans and underwear, and then he went on all fours. His body smoothly, painlessly transformed into the shape of a large, sleek wolf, the purest form of the Beast he was becoming. He flowed like water, a dusky, golden shadow streaking through the woods even faster than before. Massive paws effortlessly pushed off the soft ground in a blur of motion, spattering earth and scattering leaves. It was fully dark now, but his keen night vison perceived the forest as if it was noontime, lit up in brilliant hues of neon violet and blue.
A thin, dark cloud had sliced off the top of the head of the moon.
Further on. Must keep running. Gemma will be safe...
But he was losing the battle now.
Images of Gemma filled his mind. She lay naked and desirable on their big bed, exhausted and happy in afterglow. Suddenly her eyes flew open in terror. Bloodcurdling shrieks of agony filled her cottage as a flurry of fangs and claws tore her to pieces, until her remains resembled offal left on the floor of a butcher shop - a mangled, bloody heap of viscera, torn flesh and disjointed bones.
Yes - turn back! Kill her! The Feasting Moon has risen!
Suddenly, the golden wolf that was Dylan Vorcla loosed an unearthly shriek and convulsed in agony. He tumbled end over end across the ground and came to a violent stop against the base of a tree. He whimpered, his sides heaving; then his amber eyes caught sight of the moon high overhead.
On the zenith...
Bloodcurdling screams rang through the forest then as Dylan's bones shattered and stretched, reshaping into new, elongated forms, tearing through flesh which instantly healed as the jagged ends withdrew and reset themselves.
The Change seized him now.
Dylan Vorcla was gone...
He grew; his muscles rippled and bulged and thickened under his skin, solid as rock and taut as bands of steel. The elegant, beautiful golden wolf was gone, and a horrifying monster lay in his place - half man, half wolf... all terror. The screams had ceased, replaced by a deep, menacing rumbling in the massive chest and throat.
The werewolf rose to his feet on powerful legs, the ultimate predator, large as a grizzly bear and a hundred times more lethal. His keen sense of smell sifted the air.
Human scent - straight ahead.
Prey!
His stomach growled; he salivated, drooling from his massive, fang-studded maw. All thoughts of Gemma dissolved from the feral mind of the werewolf. Here was fresh food, just beyond the edge of the woods, more than enough even for his insatiable appetite. There was a clearing in the day-glow forest which opened out onto a quaint little fishing village nestled up against the sea. A rustic wooden sign proclaimed, "Welcome to Leeds Cove."
Then another scent drifted on the air. It was a foul, fetid stench that stank of death. His hackles rose, and every hair on his body stood on end.
Vampires!
LaGory!
The creature howled his rage at the moon, a fearsome baying that could be heard kilometers away - and a defiant challenge to his hated natural enemies. He went down on all fours and charged into the middle of the village square, roaring like a tiger.
They were lying in wait for him, alerted by his warning. They dropped on him from the air, but they were not prepared for his speed, his agility, nor his utter ferocity. Long canines found unprotected throats; lethal talons tore icy, stony hearts from undead chests. He kept charging, cutting a swath through them, a deadly, tawny blur of slashing claws and fangs. The bat creatures perished one by one, shrieking in agonized disbelief as they dissolved into puddles of slimy gore, until only one remained. She frantically attempted to gain altitude and fly away, but the Wolf leaped high in the air and ripped her wings from her body. As she fell, his own vampire senses 'heard' her mental scream:
Master Nilos - help us! Werewolf...
A vicious swipe of a powerful, thewed arm decapitated her, and her life and her essence bubbled away into the ground.
His keen ears picked up the sound of stealthy footsteps creeping down an alley behind him, and he faded back into the shadows. His keen night vision, more sensitive than either a Wolf's or a vampire's thanks to his dual heritage, scanned the little back street. His face split into a demonic grin.
An older man and a young girl, clad in loose-fitting black jumpsuits, edged forward anxiously, short-barreled shotguns gripped tightly in their hands. Fear was strong in their scents. They thought they were hunting him.
Neither of them realized that he was now hunting
them.
He held back, his powerful leg muscles tensing. He respected their weapons; he would wait until they were right on top of him before he pounced.
His mouth watered as he gazed at the girl. She appeared to be young, barely twenty, and pretty - not beautiful, like Gemma, but comely. She had short black hair. Her body was well-toned; her flesh would be tender and sweet. She would be his prey. He would kill the man quickly, then take her. He waited, and tensed to spring...
Stefanie Timmons swallowed hard, clenching her shotgun in a death grip. Icy beads of perspiration trickled down her back. She was terrified; she wanted to run, but every time the thought entered her mind, a searing, blinding pain exploded in her head, forcing her to keep walking forward. This had been happening ever since Master Nilos had come to Leeds Cove.
What in the name of God was she doing out here? A month ago, she had been a happy, carefree teenager, looking forward to her freshman year at university in London in the fall. Then Master Nilos had come, and her life was no longer her own.
It belonged to him...
Their quarry was somewhere up ahead in the inky blackness. She could not see or hear anything, but there was a strong scent in the alley, like the smell of a wet dog. Her hands trembled. Could it be the werewolf the Master had warned them about? By his order, all the guards' weapons were loaded with special shells stuffed with silver pellets, and the gunpowder in them was laced with silver nitrate. One shot would be enough to kill the beast.
But they would have to find him first...
"Clark...do you see anything?" she whispered.
Her companion jumped. He gulped nervously, his adam's apple bobbing.
"Not yet, Stef. Somethin's the bloody 'ell out there, though. All that roaring and shrieking. The Guardians appear to be gone."
Guardians, Stefanie mused sourly.
Vampires, he means. What a bloody joke to call them Guardians...
She winced as a sharp pain shot through her head.
Such insubordinate thoughts would not be tolerated...
They had almost reached the end of the alleyway.
'Where is the damned thing?'
Suddenly the fine hairs on the back of Stefanie's neck stood on end. She could hear someone -
something - breathing.
Then she saw the eyes, golden and glowing and malevolent.
And less than an arm's length away!
With a ferocious roar, something large, dark and shaggy leaped at her with incredible speed. Impossibly sharp fangs and claws gleamed in the dim light filtering into the alley as the werewolf's powerful right arm slashed downward in a deadly arc, ripping her face to tatters of flesh and clawing her open down the middle. Stefanie shrieked in agony as she fell back, bleeding heavily, and she was only dimly aware of Clark's severed head tumbling from his shoulders. It thumped on the ground and rolled end over end, coming to rest with its mangled face turned upward.
Not far away, Sean Miller, one of Nilos LaGory's security guards, ratcheted a shell into the chamber of his semi-automatic shotgun. A knot of villagers had assembled in the town square, drawn by the horrifying sounds of mayhem somewhere in their little hamlet.
"Jesus!" he exclaimed. "That sounds like the Devil himself! Over there, down that alley - let's go!"
They bounded down the street toward the source of the disturbance, rounded a corner, and came face-to-face with a monster from hell.
The creature was a demon-spawned combination of man and wolf, massive, almost bearlike. It towered over the bleeding, half-naked body of Stefanie Timmons, who lay in a spreading pool of crimson.
"P-please...
h-help me..." she sobbed.
Miller brought his weapon up, and the thing exploded toward them, slashing and tearing with fangs and claws as its victims screamed. Within seconds, the alley was littered with the dead and dying.
There was no time for the security guard even to draw a bead on the whirling, howling creature. He never got a chance to fire. The thing pounced on him and drove him to the ground, plunging its fangs deep into its victim's throat and sending his weapon flying off onto the darkness. The luckless security guard's dying screams shivered through the night as half a dozen other guards, led by Leonard Kirkwood, came running toward the scene of the carnage.
They stopped abruptly, stunned and sickened by what they saw. Kirkwood's stomach heaved.
Lying amid a welter of blood were the bodies of seven men and three women in various stages of dismemberment. The huge, snarling, slavering beast whirled to face the newcomers. The werewolf howled insanely at them, clawing the air. Then it turned, scooped up the shrieking Stefanie Timmons and slung her over its shoulder, and disappeared down the alley with uncanny speed.
Too late, Kirkwood and the guards raised their shotguns and fired, but the creature was already well out of range.
Kirkwood lowered his weapon, his stomach churning. They had missed an opportunity to kill the beast.
None of the men spoke for several minutes. They stood numbly amid the bloodshed, shaken by the horror and butchery.
"L-Leonard, did you see its
face? Good God!!" Sam Neeson was ashen-faced; his hands trembled as he lowered his shotgun.
"I would say, Sam, that God had very little to do with this," Kirkwood commented drily.
"Master Nilos's vampires seem cuddly by comparison," Neeson returned
"And we let it get away," another man added.
"Yes...we did," Kirkwood said softly. "And there'll be hell to pay when Master Nilos finds out. We froze; we should have blasted the son of a bitch to pieces."
"What about the girl?" Neeson queried.
Kirkwood shook his head sorrowfully.
"It gutted her. She's bleeding to death; by the time we could get a rescue party together, that thing will probably have her in the next county."
He swallowed hard.
He would be the one to pay; he was their leader. He would have to explain to the Vampire Master how he let the deadly beast escape.
In the meantime, however, he still had a job to do.
"All, right, people, let's set about cleaning up this mess. Sam, round up a burial detail. George, why don't you..."
*****
The 'Wolf finally stopped running. There were no signs of pursuit; he had left the woods behind, and was far out on the moors now. He laid his victim's body on a thick patch of fragrant heath. She moaned in agony, and stirred.
At last his unholy appetite would be sated.
The smell of her blood made him tremble with hunger, sent pains through his jaws and stomach; his mouth watered, and he growled in anticipation. Stefanie's eyes flew open at the sound. She screamed, and he was on her, ripping away her jumpsuit, slashing cloth and flesh indiscriminantly to get at the tasty banquet underneath her clothing.
White pain enveloped Stefanie; so great was her agony that she could only manage a choked gasp. The werewolf grabbed her by a wrist and an ankle and hoisted her naked, bleeding body over his head; then his powerful jaws clamped down brutally across her middle, slicing deep into her belly and back. Now she found her voice, and her bloodcurdling screams shattered the stillness of the night.
He released her, and she dropped to the ground.
She lay on her back, twitching and moaning as the beast crouched over her. He leaned down close; she could smell his fetid breath, see his bloody, gore-clotted fangs gleaming as he grinned at her. He yanked her head back by her lustrous black hair, exposing her vulnerable, unprotected throat.
"N-noooo -
pleeeaasseee..."
He struck.
He sank his fangs into the soft flesh of her neck, under her chin, and shook viciously. Her piteous shrieks segued into a ghastly, gurgling noise.
Then there was silence.
But only for a moment.
A blood-chilling howl floated through the air like the keening of a lost soul. It drifted across the moors and out to sea.
The Wolf tore voraciously into Stefanie Timmons' corpse with the gnawing hunger that only the Change could produce, gorging himself on her flesh. The hunger encompassed him, consuming all of his senses. The girl's body still twitched with the abruptness of her death, and it jostled and jerked as he ripped away pieces of body meat.
LaGory...
The thought leaped unbidden into his feral mind as he fed. His rage and hatred boiled over into a thunderous roar.
Kill the Bat! he thought.
He would, too, and soon. He had easily slain the vampires in Leeds Cove tonight. They had been no match for his hybrid powers, which combined the strengths of both the werewolf and the vampire.
Tonight he had fouled LaGory's nest, which would put him on a collision course with the Vampire Master. He relished the prospect of that meeting; he looked forward to it. Finally he would get the opportunity to rid the world of the evil creature who had caused him so much misery.
His grin was wild as he bit into her heart as if it were an apple, and let the dark, thick blood dribble down his chin...
*****
"You didn't shoot him."
Nilo's LaGory's deceptively mild voice resonated with the sepulchral echoes of the tomb.
"You froze."
Leonard Kirkwood repressed a shudder. He had no defense, and he offered none. The vampire sighed.
"One shot would have killed him. A 12-gauge shotgun at close range with silver pellets would have shredded him - cut him in two. The bastard Wolf, Dylan Vorcla." He pinched the bridge of his nose wearily, glancing at the mutilated bodies stacked and waiting near a fresh grave, at the drying, putrid puddles on the ground where his vampires had fallen. "I can't begin to tell you how pissed off I am about this, Leonard."
LaGory shook his head. Then he gazed out over the legion of vampires he had summoned and linked minds with them.
Kill the remaining survivors in this village, and turn them. Then go out into the countryside and find more recruits. Vorcla will be in for a nasty surprise when he returns.
He sensed Sonya's mind touching his own.
Nilos - can you be so sure he'll return?
He'll be back, my love, he thought.
Trust me. I know how he thinks. And if by some chance he doesn't return... He shrugged mentally. Well, then I suppose we'll have to go find him.
He turned to his Harem, gesturing indifferently at Kirkwood..
"He's yours. Make it slow. Make him suffer. When you've finished, drive a stake through his heart and behead him. You know what to do."
He smiled coldly at the terrified security guard.
"Sorry, Leonard. You've been a bad boy, so you can't come to the party. No immortality for you."
Two vampires grabbed Kirkwood by an arm and shoved him forward.
"No!" Kirkwood screamed. "Master Nilos - please! Give me another ch-chance!"
But it was too late.
The brides had stripped off their gowns. They circled him, each one more beautiful - and more lethal - than the next.
"I want a thigh," Leah hissed.
"I'll take the other one," Sonya added with an evil smirk on her face.
"I always go for the throat," Hilde said, snickering.
Melissa stared fixedly at Kirkwood's crotch. "This time,
I get the best part..."
Their eyes suddenly turned blood red, and their canines extended into long, sharp fangs. Snarling ferociously, they launched themselves at the now screaming human and drove him to the ground. He tried to crawl away from them, frantically kicking and batting at them, but they easily overpowered and stripped him. They attacked him, biting deep, ripping at his naked flesh. He screamed like a woman as they rolled over and over on the ground with him, wrestling with him, tearing at him and draining him, until, finally, he no longer made a sound.
Melissa lifted her head from her grisly feast. Her face was obscured by a cowl of blood. She raised up and struck again, and she and Hilde tore out Kirkwood's throat.
LaGory had already forgotten him. His powerful mind was focused, searching outward, seeking out the savage mind of the Wolf.
His efforts were in vain.
Damn him! LaGory thought.
He's blocking me. Even when he's in his Wolf form, he has the presence of mind to shield his thoughts! Where is the bastard?
With a hiss of frustration, LaGory shifted into his bat creature form. He shot into the air and soared over the countryside, searching for something to kill -
anything to relieve his agitation. He glanced down, and his toothy grin was terrible.
Far below, he saw a convertible parked in a secluded cove. A middle aged couple wrestled in the back seat, nearly naked, as they made love.
Trying to recapture their lost youth, perhaps, LaGory reflected.
Well, now they were about to lose much more.
Launching himself into a steep dive, he arced down through the night skies and struck...
To Be Continued...
will eat you!
Re: Dylan Vorcla: First Moon (Part 14)
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