Chapter Three: Ambush in the dark
Over the next two months, Garrett was taught the ways of the Gaian shapeshifter. He discovered his Sokto and Chatro forms as well as how to use them effectively. Victor was astonished that Garrett could shift forms with minimal effort; he even shifted in his sleep once.
The process still presented a problem with clothing. Victor's only advice was to carry around extra clothes if the situation allowed.
Over that month, Garrett also learned about the enemies he would no doubt face in the future. He began to understand his place in the world and accepted it.
He was taught a few gifts to help him along the way. One was to sense Wyrm taint in a person or place and the other was to lick wounds in one of his feline forms to heal them. He also impressed Victor by being able to converse with spirits and understand them, not unlike a Garou theurge.
At the end of the second month, it was time for Garrett to get his hands dirty.
Victor had discovered a location about a week back, which contained a significant amount of Wyrm taint. It was a singlewide trailer in a fairly secluded area. It housed one man and his wife and children. It also housed a lab that produced an insidious form of methamphetamine. It appeared to be a small part of a drug syndicate, but at that point, no clear kingpin had been identified. At the moment it didn't matter; the man and his lab were marked for death.
And after nightfall, they made their move to exact Gaia's vengeance.
They stopped just inside the tree line where Victor dropped a small knapsack. Garrett looked at him confused, but he only winked.
They slipped into the yard under cover of darkness. In a coordinated effort, they moved up to either side of the house to check for any surprises. There appeared to be none, so they prepared to make an entrance. The two shifted to their Sokto forms; anything larger would have been too much for the floor of the ramshackle trailer. Victor armed himself with two large Kukri blades; Garrett had only his father's .45.
The two Bastet hit the back door like a SWAT team, completely breaking it off its hinges and sending it crashing into the adjacent wall. They moved in quickly, clearing the kitchen. The smell of Wyrm was thick in the air or at least it was to noses trained to recognize it. It was the first time Garrett's nostrils had come into contact with it. The putrid aroma was almost enough to send him to his knees, but he fought the urge and persevered.
A mother and her two children cowered on the couch in the tiny living room.
"Where is he?" Victor asked curtly.
The smallest of the children raised a tiny bruised arm, pointing to the back bedroom. He might have been three years old. He was dressed in clothes that more closely resembled rags and had many small cuts and bruises.
Victor turned his attention to the mother for a brief instant, who looked even worse than the children.
"Get your kids, get out of here, run and don't turn back," he said as he slowly moved to the door of the back bedroom.
The mother gathered up her children and moved as quickly as she could past Garrett and out the back door.
Garrett moved up to where Victor had positioned himself and chambered a round.
"Are you ready?" Victor asked over his shoulder.
As he spoke, the door in front of them practically exploded. Wooden shards filled the air, striking both of them at various points of their body. A man was standing in the doorway. His eyes gave a wide unblinking stare. A twitchy smile formed on his lips. He gave out a gurgled hiss and leapt forward into the light of the room.
The man wasn't human anymore. He had been possessed by a bane spirit. He was now a fomor.
His tattered shirt revealed large boils over most of his exposed skin. His gaping mouth revealed row upon row of needle-like teeth. His eyes had taken on reptilian features with a thick membrane over each one. His eyelids were gone.
Before he could think twice, Garrett fired a shot. The .45 bullet tore through the creature's shoulder, sending out a spray of viscous fluid. It sizzled and burned anything it came into contact with. The creature shrieked in pain and lunged at Garrett.
"Break left!" Victor shouted as one of his blades arced downward, lopping off the fomor's head in one clean stroke. Once again, liquid sprayed and poured from the wound, narrowly missing Garrett, but coming into contact with Victor's hand and arm. It hit the ground and convulsed for a few seconds before lying still.
Victor winced in pain as the liquid burned his flesh, melting the handle of the knife to his hand. It was Garrett's turn to wince as he watched Victor rip the knife out of his wounded hand. He inspected it briefly before tossing it on the ground.
"Blade's melted. No use to me now," he said as he moved toward the doorway.
They went through the doorway and found what they were looking for: a meth lab with an insidious twist. Not only were the poor saps taking these drugs killing themselves, but they were corrupting themselves with bane energy as well. This could very easily produce a small Army of fomori, given enough time.
"Okay, what now?" Garrett asked, surveying the lab.
"We get out of here and then we blow this place back to Malfeas," Victor said with a slight smile.
Garrett nodded and they slipped out much more quietly than they entered. After reaching a safe distance from the house, Victor pulled a flare gun from his knapsack left just inside the tree line and fired a round through a window in the makeshift lab. The trailer left the ground as it exploded into red and green flame.
Satisfied, they left the scene and headed back to the campsite in feline form to expedite their progress.
As they traveled on, Garrett began to feel as if they were being followed. Something wasn't right and he tensed for a possible ambush. Apparently, Victor had the same uneasiness about him and they stopped in a clearing by a stream.
Victor sniffed the air and grew silent. The hair on his back bristled as he shifted up to Chatro. Garrett followed suit, shifting up to crinos. They scanned the area around them for possible threats.
"Bad kitties," a raspy voice murmured from the trees. "Fucked up our candy, but we make sure they get fucked up, won't we?"
Several voices chattered and hissed all around them. From the sound there might be almost a dozen of them. At any rate, they were surrounded. Victor and Garrett stood back to back, waiting for the first move.
"We teach everyone not to mess with us … the kitties, and the doggies," the voice continued as a lone figure dropped into the clearing. It was a lanky male fomor with abnormally long arms and hands, which ended in long, razor-like claws. He stared down the two Bastet and let out a cackle of laughter.
At once, a pack of fomori descended on them from all directions. There were at least a dozen of them, maybe more, it was hard to tell. They were all freakishly deformed, some with extra appendages, one with an extra head. The pack closed in quickly, hoping to overwhelm the two Bastet with sheer numbers.
Victor and Garrett braced themselves for the attack. Garrett raced toward the creature who appeared to be the leader, the one who had spoken. He jumped to the side with minimal effort as he plunged into the water. Two fomor jumped in his path and blocked Garrett's pursuit. They lunged at him to no avail as he jumped back out of their range. His claws ripped into them as he made an outward swipe with both arms, sending one flying in either direction. The one on the left struck a tree and lay still while the other's fall was broken by one of his comrades, taking them both out of the fight momentarily. As Garrett moved in on the fomor in the water, he disappeared before his eyes.
Victor let out a roar of pain. Though he had already dispatched four of his attackers, there were still six on top of him, clawing and biting. He was holding his own, but there were too many to keep up with. Blood was pouring from many wounds on his legs and back. He shook one off his back and swatted it, tearing the creature nearly in half. Another saw its opening and moved in quickly, slashing Victors neck with a vicious swipe of its claws. A roar turned into a garbled scream as the claws rent his flesh. Blood gushed from the wound as Victor struggled to stay on his feet.
In horror, Garrett saw what was happening. As he tried to close the distance between him and his comrade, two clawed hands reached out of the stream, grabbed hold of him and pulled him down into the water.
The world around him changed. He was now in the Umbra, the spirit world, though he didn't know it.
Garrett struggled against the hands that held his feet, and turned around to see the fomor that had vanished from his sight. Channeling his rage, Garrett released himself from the grip and tore into the fomor. It screamed in pain as his claws raked into his putrid flesh and answered with a slash into the Pumonca's midsection. The two combatants jumped away from each other and paused, each waiting on the other to make the first move.
Garrett didn't have time for a Mexican stand off. He lunged forward, claws and teeth bared. The fomor ducked, raking his claws down Garrett's legs as he passed over. Garrett tumbled along the ground, the wounds in his abdomen and legs burning as if they were on fire. Before he could get to his feet, the fomor was on top of him. The two wrestled for an advantage, but neither could achieve it. Garrett finally gained the upper hand, vaulting the fomor into the air with his feet. As the creature hit the ground, Garrett was on his feet and moving. The fomor struggled to its feet just as the Bastet bared down upon it. His claws found purchase in the Wyrm creature's throat, ripping it open with such intensity, that its head nearly came off.
Garrett stood over the dead fomor, exhausted. He turned toward Victor, but could not see him. The area where the fighting had taken place appeared to be an empty clearing, but changed somehow.
"Pathetic … just what I'd expect from a cat," a male voice behind him said.
Garrett wheeled around to see a large gray werewolf. He stood over nine feet tall with what looked for all the world like war paint on his face and chest. He was also carrying a very large double-bladed axe.
"You took too long," he said. "It was just one fomor."
"Who are you?" Garrett asked. "And why does everything look so weird?"
"You're in the Umbra, stupid," the werewolf said. "And I'm not telling you shit else until you tell me who you are and why you're here."
Garrett identified himself and explained why he and Victor were there. The werewolf identified himself as Biting Steel, a Get of Fenris theurge.
The theurge parted the veil and allowed Garrett to pass into the material world again. The ground was littered with the bodies of dead fomori. On the ground at the other side of the clearing was another body, one that wasn't tainted and deformed by bane energy. It was Victor.
There was no mistaking. He was dead.
Biting Steel surveyed the area briefly.
"You should go now," he said.
Garrett looked up at the Garou and anger flashed across his face. "I'm gonna get those bastards for what they did."
"No, you're not," the theurge said. "This is my pack's fight. This is our turf, our responsibility."
Biting Steel placed a hand on Garrett's shoulder. "Rest assured, your friend will be avenged, but my pack will not welcome your presence here. Go."
Downtrodden, Garrett left the scene after burying his mentor and friend. He walked back to the campsite in crinos form, hoping there would be more fomori to vent his frustrations and grief on, but none appeared.
He packed up his things and moved on.
He was alone again.