Author's Note: Okay, this chapter gets… hmm… quite a high rating. R maybe? It gets quite graphic at one point, and I just wanted to give you forewarning. It's fair right? Oh yes… *hides away in her bunker due to a certain aspect of the chapter* Aheh… And for some reason, I feel like acknowledging all reviewers… weird.
Emily M. Hanson: Yes, yes I do. *grins*
Melanie: Did he? Glad you loved the fighting.
Mrs Sawyer: Thanks. Glad you loved that bit, I liked it too. Some could say I enjoyed writing it too much, aheh.
LotRseer3350: So, don't kill anyone? Quite a good theory you've got there… you'll have to wait and see.
Graymoon74: Me? A cliffhanger? Pff, never. Lol, yeah, if you believe that you'll believe anything. So many bits you loved! Ugh, you spoil me, Graymoon74, you really do. And I appreciate every word. Mina kicks butt, indeed she does. And yes she really was trying, bless her. Sigh, she's so considerate, hehe.
Gijinka Renamon: What's going to happen? You'll see… you'll see.
hot-pepper96: I do love to torture the readers with the suspense, yes… it is very fun. You'll see just how much… Mwahahaha! You love me? Aw, thanks!
Sethoz: Did I? Hmm, you'll have to wait and see. Hmm, both good points, but are you right? Ooh, tough question in need of an answer I'm sure. But am I going to tell you or keep you in horrible torturing suspense? And you get UBER points for that quoteage! Very cleverly done, nice job *claps* Didn't notice that at first, lol. Yes, I'm dense. Faking it…? Another interesting theory.
funyun: All these good theories, but who's right I wonder? Well, I don't wonder, I know, but… hehe.
Capt. Cow: *brandishes award* Haha! I win! Thanks.
Raven Silvers: Thank you kindly, Rave', very nice of you to say so, and I'm glad you enjoyed it.
Beck2: *is overwhelmed by questions* Yipe… answers to come!
Silversnow: Here you go… your wish is my command, which I was going to do anyway but you just happened to ask for the right things, lol.
drowchild: Yes, that immortal question (har, har) Who did I shoot?
BloodMoonLycan: *hands you some words* Here you go my friend, enjoy the new chapter!
Enough of that. Without any further ado, here is Chapter 21 of By The Light of The Moon…
Edward grunted as he turned on his heels, finding two sets of eyes glaring at him from narrowed slits, one yellow and the other a deep black. He remembered them clearly, from the barn where he had thrown one casually aside with one arm, a blow that seemed to be revisiting the fleabag, as it cowered slightly, but obviously not from fear… in anger, preparation to pounce. It growled eagerly at him, and the hairs along the spine arched in a threat.
Pitiful, Edward thought with a quiet huff. He turned his body completely to them and said, "Oh look… back for more." He chuckled. "Fancied a challenge, did we?"
Of course, they did not reply, and they only growled, advancing in simple padding footsteps that were silent and stealthy.
"Be careful, Edward." Hyde ignored Jekyll's snivelling voice, and sized up his opponents as before. He knew he could handle himself. After all, had he not done so in the home of that coward Evans? He had, and he could do it again… he had defeated – or so he liked to think – these two in combat before, and it would surely not be difficult to do so again.
The two werewolves began to pace closer, and he squared himself in preparation, smirking in an almost smug manner, chuckling quietly to himself, eager for the fight to break out. If they did not start it soon… he would. They had to know he would. Did they think him the type to wait? Did they think the type with patience?
Humph… fools. Edward rolled his eyes, and then noticed the four-legged fleabag was crouching… ready to pounce. He grinned, satisfied now with the challenge. "Come then… attack me, mongrel. What's stopping you?"
And with that, and a roar, the quadruped lunged, a feral roar shattering the tense silence, as the taloned claws raked their way through the air and the eyes flashed angrily. Hyde roared in retaliation, and rose his arm up to meet the foe, slamming him in the gut and sending him soaring over the alter ego's head, and slamming into the wall of the wide corridor. A sharp growl snapped his attention back to the bipedal creature, even as it surged forward, lifting a limb to strike with dagger-like claws.
"Temper, temper," Edward chided, grabbing the arm and twisting it, hearing a foul snap and a yelp of anger more than pain. The other arm moved to slash at him, but with a savage twirl, he threw the biped through the air to land beside its companion. The two rose, shaking and regrouping, hackles rising once again in fury, as their eyes flashed bestially. The bipedal wolf started to twist its arm, and cracking and groaning was heard, as the bone melded itself back into place, muscle and tissue repairing and rebuilding, as Hyde goaded them into a second assault.
The sound of gunfire in the background did not to dissuade him from swinging one of his arms around like a club, satisfied when he at least hit one of the filthy creatures. The biped was thrown across the room, crashing to the ground in a mess, whilst the quadruped ducked under the arm, and then leapt upwards. The maw spread wide, ready to snap shut on anything in range, before Hyde did something very rare for him, considering his bulk… he ducked. He had no choice. Thrashing out only would have gained him an injury… and even Jekyll wasn't sure what that would result in. He needed to be careful; to ensure that these things did not scratch or bite him. It could result in his death, and if there was one thing that Edward Hyde was wary of, it was his own mortality and its conditions. He did not want to die, despite his outer vehemence and insistence on adventure and battle, anything that would get the blood pumping, satisfy his lust for a thrill.
The quadruped and biped both gained their footing once again, and deemed it necessary to come at him from both sides. Using as much initiative as he could muster, Edward swung out both arms like clubs, striking the quadruped to its back, and finding that the biped ducked agilely, with an otherworldly speed and grace, swiping at him. He angled his fist and arm out of the way just in time to avoid having a great chunk of flesh removed from his limb, and roared in anger.
"Edward… we cannot win. We were lucky last time. Something happened and they fled for a reason."
Despite his urge not to, Edward agreed with Henry, but kept the worry hidden from his face as he glanced to his left and right, seeing the animals closing in on him. He knew he could not defeat them on his own… he needed help. He needed someone to come looking for him and for once, provide him with assistance.
Which was when a boot slammed into the side of the quadruped's head, snapping it to the side with a gruff bark of a noise, perhaps from either shock or irritation, perhaps both. It stumbled, losing balance for a moment, giving the attacker time to lash out again, swiping with a sword, and then crashing down a large weapon on the top of its head. It dropped to its side, and panted, clearly stunned, and out of the running, as its eyes closed and it shuddered. The body transformed slowly, and Hyde grinned.
Captain Nemo dropped his ruined shell of a harpoon gun, and came up beside his friend, facing off the biped with a determination burning in his dark eyes that would have been enough to even scare the alter ego of Dr. Jekyll had it been aimed in his direction. The two squared their shoulders resolutely, and Hyde chuckled, filled with a new confidence.
Suddenly, the werewolf didn't seem too certain of itself, and glanced between the two, backing away slowly, before taking off at a run, away from them. Hyde glanced after it for a moment, grunting in disappointment, and then turned his gaze on Nemo.
"Say it, Edward… you know you can."
Gruffly and quietly, Hyde muttered, "Thank you." With that, he tried to catch the scent of any of their associates on the air, even as a booming gunshot reverberated around them, and their eyes locked as the masculine cry rang out loudly.
Zachary, Dmitri, Anise and Skinner were on the alert, eyes ever watchful as they paced around the establishment. The former had managed to reclaim his clothing, and was now determined and comfortable in his stride, his boots slapping against the hard floor below them as they paced about, looking for anyone, hopefully friend, not foe. Not that Skinner wasn't confident that if they did come across a foe, the three werewolves wouldn't be able to handle themselves. They were more than capable, he knew, and suddenly found himself feeling quite useless. Nevertheless, he had picked up one of the guards' guns, and was wielding it with what he liked to think was feigned assurance. He wanted to appear ready to anyone who might come upon them.
They turned a corner, and Zachary Fairfax froze, turning his head to Dmitri and Anise, seemingly forgetting where Skinner was… not that he minded. The thief was still a little uncertain of the turncoat. Quickly, he said, "You need to conceal yourselves. The lupa… she's coming."
"The what?" Skinner dared to ask, and earned himself a glance from Anise, one that he ignored. He wanted his answers, and dammit, he was going to get them. He was sick of being overlooked, despite being invisible, making it hard for people to do otherwise.
"Lupa… it is a name, or title for an alpha female. It's Falx… go!" Zachary snapped at them, and upon reflection, they decided it best to heed his warning, darting inside a room for concealment as soon as humanly – and supernaturally, he realised – possible. They closed the door mostly, avoiding letting it click shut, in case it was heard, just in time for the female to step into view. She looked a little dismayed, and had clothed herself in black attire to match Zachary's. She locked eyes with him, and it appeared she was waiting for a sign of submission… one that the younger werewolf provided with a brief bow of the head.
"I was tracking the others," he told her in a bland tone of voice. He avoided even acknowledging their direction, and it seemed as though he hoped Falx – as he had called her – would not smell them. "I lost them."
Which seemed destined not to happen, as she lifted her chin slightly, and smiled in a wry fashion, saying almost seductively, "Why, Lacertus, it seems your attention is slack. I can smell them from here." With that, she strode in their direction, only to have Zachary's – or Lacertus as she had addressed him – hand latch around her forearm. She whirled with an angered growl, and rumbled, "Let go of me."
"No," Zachary snarled in return, shaking his head. "I refuse."
"How dare you…" Falx hissed, tearing her arm free of the young man and backhanding him across the face. "Perhaps Woods should be informed of your disobedience."
"Go to hell," Zachary retorted, bringing his face back up to level with hers, shortly before he lashed out with a fist, catching her across the face and throwing her backwards.
"Look out!" Skinner yelped, and pulled backwards on Anise's collar, sending them both away from the door, even as Dmitri hopped aside. The door crashed open, Falx rolling to the ground with the sheer force of the blow. Skinner could see from where he lay that her nose was bleeding, and Zachary soon stalked into the room after her, utter fury burning on his face. A chill ran up and down Skinner's spine, and he shuddered involuntarily, as Anise clambered off him.
Falx glanced around her hurriedly, seeing the company present, and looked back to Zachary, snapping, "Traitor!"
The head of the young werewolf was shaking back and forth, and he closed his eyes for a moment, whispering the word, "No," to himself over and over again, before he yelled, "You killed my father!"
Falx seemed taken aback by the outburst, but scrambled to her feet nevertheless, fiery blonde hair in disarray around her face and piercing blue eyes. "He was a reluctant individual and needed to be dealt with in the only way possible."
"So you tore into him, and forced me to watch…"
Poor kid, Skinner found himself thinking, and realised what it was that Zachary probably intended to do, shutting off his brain lest it come up with more unnecessary sympathies. Sure, he felt sorry for Zachary, but the werewolf didn't need his pity. He could take care of himself, and it looked as though he certainly planned to; to avenge his murdered father.
"It was necessary," Falx told him coldly, and there was even a hint of a smile on her face as she spoke.
"This ends here," Zachary told her resolutely, his tone hard and carrying a wicked edge, "right now. It's over."
Falx laughed bitterly. "Oh, you naïve fool. It's not over. You know I can kill you where you stand."
Smiling his own lopsided, almost daring smile, Zachary leaned in towards her, and whispered harshly, "Then try me."
It was so sudden, that Skinner and the others jumped back in shock, as the two combatants let loose their primal instincts and transformed, casting off coats and boots, before two savage beasts stood in their place. One stood on two legs, gangly and feral, whilst the other was four-legged and almost devoid of hair, with powerful limbs rippling with muscles. Their jaws parted and snarls of challenge slipped forth.
They lunged at one another, and almost instantly a wail of pain was heard, and blood sprayed across the ground near to Dmitri. It was revealed to be Falx, who rolled to the ground with an oozing wound in her abdomen, and even as the bleeding slowed, she leapt back to her feet and slashed at Zachary with her talons, catching him on the back of the neck as he tried to duck.
Their fighting only escalated in savagery and brutality, as they rolled around, like two dogs fighting over scraps in the bins, growling and snarling ferociously at one another. Claws and teeth flashed, eyes blazed, and blood was spilled. Before long, the two were wounded all over, limping and battered, fur matted with their own bleeding.
They panted, heavily, and Dmitri, Anise and Skinner watched, transfixed as Zachary closed his eyes, seemingly defeated. His limbs relaxed and though he did not sit or lay down, he froze. Falx began to pace toward him, eagerly and almost hungrily. Foul saliva dripped from her bloodied fangs and a snarl of anticipation issued from her throat as she loomed over what she perceived to be her easy prey.
Even as Skinner moved to try and help, the smaller werewolf lunged down and forward, under Falx and through her legs, before he rolled and came to his feet again. He was soon springing up onto the bipedal creature's back, and opening his jaws wide and drawing back for the killing blow.
Falx tried to shake and swipe him off, but his claws had dug into her so deeply that they could no longer be seen. She howled in fury, even as the jaws snapped closed around the back of her neck and started to shake and twist. Skinner forced himself to look away, trying not to hear the sickening crunching and the noises that came from her neck caving in, and quite possibly… her skull, as Zachary vented his need for revenge.
As he opened his eyes at the disturbing and hovering silence, Skinner's eyes widened at the mess on the ground that had been the werewolf called Falx. The back of the neck was completely torn away, and some of her skull had been ripped apart. Deep gouges covered her body, and to Skinner's dismay, the body was starting to transform back to its human shape.
"Excuse me," he mumbled, and pushed past Anise and Dmitri to try and get out of the room. It made his stomach roll over time and again to look at that body, and it was threatening to make him revisit whatever meals he had eaten in the past week. As he cleared the doorway, he let out a relieved sigh, taking in a deep breath to try and calm his nerves. He was shaking, he realised, and suddenly quite ashamed of the fact. The gun he was holding was rattling annoyingly, and he tried to grip it tighter to make it stop, with little success.
When the explosion of a gunshot shattered the silence and the cry that followed it reached his ears, Skinner just about jumped out of his skin, almost dropping the weapon. He uttered a curse, and took off in the direction he estimated it had come from.
Please be okay… whoever you are… be okay.
Skinner ran as fast as his rather unsteady legs would carry him, turning a corner sharply…
… And coming face to face with a smug middle-aged man holding a gun, pointed right at him. Armed guards, all barrels and business ends levelled with the floating weapon, surrounded him.
"I think it would be in your best interest to cooperate," the man told him with a cocky grin.
"Oh, dammit…"