Disclaimer: All publicly recognized characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Author's Note: Thank you for the reviews, favorites, and follows! Yes, I do tend to post quickly. Truthfully, I returned to college. Writing this story has become by break treat. When you read boring texts for hours, you want to have a distraction. So, here yah go! I hope everyone enjoys this next chapter!
The Soldier
Chapter Nine: "The Werewolf"
Nimbus clouds casted a dark shadow over Port Angeles, Washington. The scent of rain clung to the air, while microscopic droplets created a beautiful fog across the town. Various pedestrians strolled the sidewalks; each sported parkas and rain-boots. Bella leaned against her mate's restored Impala, waiting for his return. They decided to rent a room at the Red Lion Hotel. Unfortunately, the soldier feared being recognized by the public. Randall accepted responsibility, paying for their lodgings, while she hid in the parking lot. She remained somewhat anonymous behind the mirrored aviators, but the immortal refused to take risks. Small towns gossiped over the littlest things. The return of a dead war heroine would stir-up quite the storm.
Masculine footsteps sounded from the right. Bella needn't look; it was Randall. She moved from the car and walked towards him. A gorgeous smile pulled at his full-lips. "I got the room," he announced. The journalist reached for her hand, a lover's embrace. Latched together, they entered the establishment. The concierge seemed to brighten at his return. Bella fought the urge to growl, biting her lip. Her mate noticed the quirk. A smoldering look inhibited his contacted eyes. "You're mine, Trapper; I am yours." The words soothed the inner predator. She nodded in acceptance.
Their room resided at the end of the first hall. It was simple – nothing special. A king sized bed centered the square footage, while a desk owned a corner. There was a flat-screen television hanging on wall. Randall tossed their bag onto the mattress, while Bella locked the door. "I really wish you'd reconsider," he started, carrying on their previous conversation. In the car, the soldier requested that he remain at the hotel, while she surveyed Forks. The immortal abhorred leaving him, but the T-Bird's crimson irises revealed his diet. Bella dreaded a werewolf discovering him. One sight of him, the pack would attack without asking questions.
"It's a precaution. The wolves seem to only tolerate animal drinkers. I don't want them to attack you because of your eyes. Contacts won't full them," she explained.
Defeated, Randall sat on the bed. His cheery disposition wavered at the potential danger. "You'll take your phone, right," he asked. "Call me if anything happens?"
"I promise to take my phone," Bella reassured. "You should sightsee, while I'm gone. There's a band playing at the Sequim Valley Airport."
"Maybe. I can't say that I've ever seen a show at an airport. It might be a writeable experience," he mused. "However, I expect you to be back when it ends. If you haven't returned by midnight, I'm going to Forks."
"That sounds fair," she agreed, strutting towards the bed. "When I return, we can break-in the hotel room. I wouldn't mind paying for the damages."
"You are a vixen," Randall growled. "Now, leave so I can look forward to tonight!"
The soldier dipped down, kissing her mate. He was perfection – the other half of her soul. No other man would entrust her to care for herself. Luckily, he was born in twentieth century, the age of feminism. The journalist knew of her strength. Hell, he'd witnessed her dismember an ancient vampire. Then again, maybe, the mating bond instilled unwavering trust. Whatever the case, Bella appreciated the independence. As Peter had said, "Don't look a gift horse in the mouth." The immortal would forever live by that statement.
A few minutes later, the soldier left the hotel. Wearing converse, she bolted into the Olympic National Park. Towering pines provided protection from the drizzle. Bella headed west towards Forks. The town resided only a few miles from Port Angeles. Unfortunately, the vampire had no address for the police officer. She planned to stakeout the local station for intel. Her superior senses would gather information. Patience was key.
Exiting the vast forest, Bella entered into the quaint town. There appeared to be one main road: S. Forks Avenue. Carefully, she sprinted along the salted asphalt. Near the high school, the vampire spotted the police station. It was an unimpressive building, very small. She jumped onto its roof, assessing the occupants. There were five heartbeats – one female and four males. The woman answered the phone, while the men acted as defense. None appeared to be occupied. Small talk filled the enclosed building; none of which aided in the discovery of her father.
Sometime later, two howls pierced the western woods. The cries were stretched apart by distance. However, one seemed close to her location. Intrigued, Bella leapt from the building and darted towards the sound. If the wolves were out, she could inquire about Charlie. Plus, announcing her arrival might soothe their ire. "No need for surprises," she thought. "It would only end badly."
Thundering footsteps directed her to the wolf's location. The gigantic canine was not alone. A blonde newborn attacked the werewolf, jaws snapping at its hind-leg. Bella felt anger pulse within her veins. The pup looked like a fawn, struggling to stand. Then, the undead opponent gained the upper-hand, biting the creature's limb. Venom poured into the laceration causing the pup to curl onto the ground. Bella jumped into the fight. Both supernatural beings' eyes shifted towards her. Without hesitation, the soldier grabbed the newborn and ripped-off his head. Pure shock tattooed on his face as the decapitated sphere bounced onto the grass.
Moments later, the werewolf transformed into a teenage male. Painful screams echoed against the trees. Bella kneeled by his side, analyzing the wound. If she didn't remove the venom, the native would become a vampire – his mortal enemy. "This is going to hurt," the soldier admitted. "I need to suck out the venom. If I don't, you'll become like me." The boy nodded his head vigorously, complying.
The taste of werewolf blood rivaled whale. Its gritty bitterness took effort to stomach. Thankfully, the newborn's venom hadn't spread too far. After sieving three pints of liquid, Bella deemed him safe. The soldier removed her wife beater, wrapping it around the wound. "Thank you," the pup whispered. "Lighter…." His eyelids closed; sleep claimed him. The immortal searched for the fire. She found a Zippo chained to his ankle. Dismembering the rest of the body, Bella ignited the bastard.
Worried about the boy's state, the vampire lifted him into her arms. He needed a blood transfusion. Ignoring the werewolf's stench, Bella sped further west. An unknown force guided her to a specific location. "Muscle memory," she concluded. As a human, the soldier knew the area. She only wondered what awaited at the destination.