Sugar and Spice
Chapter 9
Her body was coursing with pent up energy, just begging to be let loose. He was now focused on the hunt. Victor's blue eyes flashed as his pupils grew darker, larger dilating to take in more of the waning light as darkness settled in around them. The fangs began to grow longer, sharper. He flexed his fingers, extending the claws to their deadliest and most effective length.
Before Birdy's eyes he was…changing.
Not the first time, a flash of fear ran through her.
Victor didn't look at her, but grunted low as he focused in at a point inside the house that Birdy couldn't see. She reached out to him mentally and discovered the barrier she'd felt before was lowered. Understanding what he wanted, she too crouched down low in the bushes, her hands going to the handles on her guns. After a beat, and a pause, they both jumped out from their cover and Victor took the lead as he slashed out at the wrought iron gate— slicing through it like butter. Alarms began to sound all around him but he kept going now—running on all fours with Birdy covering him and shooting at every moving target with the practiced ease of and perfect aim of a sharp shooter.
There were screams as men and women ducked and ran out of the way of flying bullets and shattered glass. The men who, just a moment ago, had been acting as common-place valet's had now brandished guns and were firing back.
The bullets bounced off Victor like water on a raincoat, and Birdy was hot-on-his heels, keeping the men outside busy with a firestorm of bullets from her modified, military-grade fully automatic XM-25 machine guns.
They had gained entry to the house and Victor launched his massive frame up the stairs, leaving Birdy to hold court at the door, with a now greatly- diminished force firing at her.
A bullet came whizzing by her head and she ducked back inside the door. It ricocheted off the molding blasting a gaping hole above her head and sending shards of wood flying around her.
Birdy dropped lower to the ground and pulling her limbs tight against her body, waiting. She was thankful her guns came with scopes and, expertly flipped the gun so that a small, wire scope popped up.
She held the gun above her head, paralleling it to the hole in the wall, and angling it so that she could see outside with the scope.
There, behind the flattened wheels of a bullet-ridden Mercedes, was a man on the ground, still moving.
Somehow, she'd missed him and he'd gotten a bullet off at her, but she'd make sure this time he was dead. She could already tell he was injured, but he was scouting for her, she could tell by the way he aimed his gun, peering through the scope that was mounted on top of it.
Birdy smiled to herself as she lowered her gun, giving it an affectionate rub on the barrel. One of the great things about her modified "toy"…she could shoot around corners.
Bracing her back against the wall, she looked around her, scanning the carnage of splintered wood and broken glass. Ah, there!
Right across was the object she needed. Still moving quietly, Birdy reached out and grabbed the glinting piece of broken glass off the floor. She threw it in the direction of the open door way and, sure enough, her mark took the bait and fired.
As soon as she saw the glass shatter, Birdy propelled herself forward, tucked and rolled, popped up on the other side of the door, hit the re-line switch on her gun and fired off 12 rounds in succession.
She heard e scream and a thump as the bullets found their target and just as quickly as the roar of fire rose up, all fell silent. Birdy rose triumphantly to peek out the door and survey the damage.
The front lawn looked like a war zone, with shot-up cars and dead bodies strewn about. The elaborate, ceramic clay fountain that had stood on the lawn was shattered- with only a whit numb sticking out of the ground, and the water in the fountain stained red.
Bodies lay scattered about the drive.
Satisfied with her role in the job, she quickly turned and ran up the stairs in the direction her boss had gone. But just as she hit the top floor of the landing, she heard an inhuman roar followed by a strange gurgling sound that made her heart drop and her blood freeze. Birdy stopped mid-step.
.
.
Victor was raging out of control now. The beast that had been clamoring to break free had full control and the world around him was stained as red as the blood on his hands. But he didn't stop.
The flesh tore from his victim as Victor continued to slash—long, digging strokes that cut deeper and deeper into what remained of the soft body before him.
He smiled as he watched the life slowly drain from the man's eyes.
His animal was in a state of bliss.
He laughed as screams grew fainter, the struggles grew weaker and the smell of death permeated the room. He was so caught in the rapture of the carnage, he didn't hear the door slowly opened.
And as his victim gurgled his last breath in a throat full of blood, only the silent whisper of his name caused him to pause in his mutilation.
.
.
For the first time in her life, Birdy didn't know what to. For the first time in her life, she was terrified. Not of getting caught—that was not an option, but as she looked at Victor's hulking figure, covered in blood and gore, and smiling as he ripped yet more flesh from the body tied to a chair in front of him, she was smart enough to fear for her own life at that moment.
She choked back a sob and quickly wrapped her hands around her mouth, but it was too late. He'd heard her.
He turned to face her, snarling, his eyes dark and wild as he looked at her, and she could see he was trying to decide whether she was a friend or a foe.
"Victor…" her voice trembled his name as he walked toward her, claws fully extended. Slowly Birdy began backing away.
"Victor…we have to go…" her voice was soft as she worked to steady herself mentally.
It felt like a dream turned into a horrible nightmare, and she was floundering…stuck in an alternative state she couldn't break free of. Down the steps, one, by one, she walked slowly, keeping her distance from Victor, but guiding him out of the house and back outside.
"Victor…I need you…"
She knew not to turn her back on him but they were trapped now.
It was clear to her that he was debating what to do with her, and she knew at any moment the wail of sirens would come. They had to leave, but she couldn't leave him there in the state he was in. She had to to do something.
They had just entered the bushes at the back of the property where they had come in only minutes (it seemed like hours to her now) ago. She and Victor were at a standstill. She'd gotten him out, but she knew it wouldn't be long before he attacked her. She had no idea what was staying his hand, but the rise and fall of his chest, and the glazed eyes focused on her kept her aware of the danger. A low rumble hit her ears as her eyes widened at the realization that the sound was a warning.
She barely had time to jump out of his way as he lunged for her. He missed a direct hit to her face, but his arms caught her around the ankles and she fell, twisting to grab onto his neck and pulling him down to the ground with her. They rolled and fought but Victor quickly gained the upper hand. He flipped her on her back and wrapped a large hand around her neck and began squeezing.
They'd been here before.
She looked up into empty black eyes and her heart sank. She gasped for air as he leaned in close to her, so close she could feel the heat from his body on her skin. She couldn't think about what that heat had meant to her only minutes ago. Right now, she was fighting for her life.
Birdy stopped struggling.
Her entire body went limp.
Her pulse began to slow in his grip.
And just when he thought she was dead...Two small hands shot up from the ground grabbing either side of his face and he roared with pain as the world around him turned from a scarlet red, to a brilliant, bright white.
.
.
The pieces of his sanity quickly snapped back in place and Victor shook his head, and took a look around. He was in the woods, his coat, and hands stained with blood, remnants speckled around his face and none of it was his.
Finally, he looked down and felt the world quake. His heart beat faster and his hands trembled.
Birdy.
She was blue, large, red welts from where his hand had been were growing darker on her neck and for the first time he could remember, he panicked.
He fell to the ground beside her, "Birdy…Birdy wake up…" he whispered, more to himself than to her as he checked for a pulse and, feeling a faint thrum under his fingers, gathered her in his arms and quickly began moving to the place he'd left the bike. He secured her to the back and quickly cranked it up as he drove off into the night like a desperate man.
As he rode in one direction, red, white and blue lights accompanied by the sound of sirens rose in the place where he'd come.
He'd fucked up. He'd lost control. He needed help.
