Hunter of the Shadows Book 3
Enemy at the Door.
Chapter 14
Now…
Tobius is sitting between the boys, an arm wrapped round each of them, long, elegant fingers clasping their shoulders tightly.
"Of all the tricks I expected my brother to pull, that was the least likely," he says, sadly, but his eyes flash green with anger. "Well, after trying to kill Marcus, and then Sam by default, of course."
"At the time, I just didn't understand why," Dean comments. "After all, by becoming a Type One he voluntarily gave up any right to the Alpha seat."
"Or, indeed, any right to pack rule," his Sire finishes, then shakes his head. "But Crowley didn't quite see it like that."
"No," agrees Sam, quietly.
Lucas glances at the younger werewolf, one shaggy eyebrow raised.
"Then why?" he asks Sam. "What was with all the shenanigans?"
"He wanted the whole of the Canadian pack turned into a Type One nation so he could unleash it on the world," Sam explains, while idly stroking the once again wolfed out Logan. He smiles when the pup grumbles approvingly and rubs his little furry head against Sam's shoulder, then carries on talking. "He saw Type Two's compassion and conscience as weaknesses rather than strengths, and our protection of humans was abhorrent to him."
"No doubt Bela was either also a Type One or in transition," says Dean with a heavy sigh. "Such a waste."
Sam smirks. "Dude, she'd have ripped your balls off and eaten them for supper."
"Yeah… what a way to go, huh?" Dean replies, dreamily. "Those legs… that ass…"
"Dean." Tobius clears his throat and nods towards an amused looking Josey, whose daughter is watching Dean with her bear-head tilted adorably to one side, ears and nose twitching. "There are ladies present."
"Uh…" Dean swallows and blushes a little. "Sorry. Day dreaming again."
"And besides," Tobius shoots Dean a warning glare. "Crowley would have killed you both outright, regardless of who you are."
Silence reigns while all present considered that.
"Tobius, I mean no disrespect," says Bobby Singer, suddenly. "I know he's ya brother and all, but the guy's an asshole."
Tobius suprises everyone by bursting into laughter. "I couldn't agree more, old chap."
"But I thought you said Type Ones interfered with Type Two thought projections," says Gerald, looking confused.
"They also smell differently to Type Two," Tobius replies, nodding in agreement. "Unfortunately for us, Crowley had done quite a bit more experimentation with Sleepworm than we realised."
Then…
Well over twenty-four hours later, we still hadn't caught up with Crowley and we were miles away from pack grounds.
Any sign of him?
Nah, nothing yet. I growled angrily. But he's here somewhere, I know he is!
Sam leapt over a fallen tree with the grace of a springbok, let out a snarl and gathered speed, paws kicking up leaves and dirt.
Tossing his mane from side to side, he sniffed the air and growled.
Yeah, he's let his guard down. I can feel him for the first time. It's weird. Like a psychic vapour trail just for me, the kind that hangs around even when the plane is miles away, he replied, snorting and sniffing the air again. And his scent is strong.
He was right. Crowley was in such a hurry he hadn't even taken the time to cover his escape. I guess he knew who was on his scrawny tail already.
As for his true scent, like when we first met him, I suspected some kind of glamour or illusion spell had been employed to cover it up, giving him the smell of a Type Two non-lunar, but I couldn't be sure and that wasn't the only question I had for the bastard. When we caught up with him Crowley was going to spill the truth, or I'd spill his guts.
Even with our excellent eye sight, the dark night combined with the gloomy, snow laden forest canopy made it challenging to see the way ahead. Our journey, though quiet to the human ear, was disturbed a couple deer and a small family of rabbits. White bobtails flashed through the shrubs and undergrowth as the forest folk made their panicked escaped.
I almost laughed. Just for once, they had nothing to fear from us.
Our prey was of a very different nature.
Dean, stop! Sam skidded to a halt behind me.
What is it? I followed suit, turned and trotted back to him.
Sam was watching the darkness stretching away in front of us, eyes glowing beautifully with that deep, blue-green light, something I had missed while he was under the influence of Sleepworm.
I-I don't know. Something… He shook his head in frustration. I think I just had some kind of vision, but I can't remember what it was.
I stared at him. How can you not remember? You just had it.
He hung his head. Maybe I'm still getting my groove back after that crazy drug of Crowley's.
No. There was something wrong here.
Sam? I asked gently. Can you sense Crowley anywhere near here, right this minute?
Sam looked up at me. No! It's like he's disappeared. He huffed, anxiously. So why can I still smell him?
An idea was forming, but Sam beat me to it.
We knew from our encounter with Archimedes all those years ago that Type Ones can interfere with thought projection, with only a limited amount of control over it, but Crowley's found a way to control that completely, right? he said, ears twitching as he thought it through. So he could listen in our conversations?
I shifted from paw to paw, excitedly. Yeah, Sammy was getting to the point faster than I could.
So, he continued, dipping his head and snuffling at my ear. Surely it's no stretch that he could adapt that technique to interfere with my visions. What's the betting he used Sleepworm to do it? He's used it for practically everything else.
After all, he added, thoughtfully. It's not exactly a secret among the Home and Canadian packs that I'm… different.
Exactly. Practically the whole Were world knew by now about Sam's special talents. Once he kidnapped Sam off the road and right under our noses, Crowley probably spent some valuable time figuring out how to deal with him.
Question is, I said, worriedly. Can he also block your TK?
Sam looked distinctly uncomfortable at that. We have to assume so.
Can you remember anything from just now? The vision, I mean.
Sam sighed. No. Sorry, Dean.
Not your fault, dude. We'll just have to proceed with caution. I bumped shoulders with the kid, trying to cheer him up. C'mon. We got us a mangy dog to catch!
Sam chuckled nervously.
We were just about to move off when I felt something whistle overhead, so close it practically gave my fur a centre parting. It was followed by a thud and a twang as something buried itself in a nearby tree. Instantly, the air stank of silver.
Shit! What in hell?
Dean, move! Sam instantly manoeuvred himself between me and the source of trouble, but he didn't give me time to protest, just growled and pushed me forward.
Breaking into a full gallop, we soldiered on, racing into the darkness, just as our hidden assassin let loose another arrow.
Thudtwang thudtwang thudtwang...!
Did I say arrow?
I'm sorry.
I meant a fucking volley of arrows, following right along our flight path.
Go go go! Sam yelled.
We increased speed but the bowman was hot on our heels.
Sam slammed into me from the side and I heard another thudtwang as a single arrow bounced harmlessly off a large conifer.
Jesus! This guy's fast! Sam panted, as we dodge around a few boulders and small rocks. A distant clatter of arrows hitting stone told us the bowman was still with us. Werewolf?
Yep, I answered. Crowley to be more specific.
Enough of this ridiculous small talk. I had a more important question.
Sammy, what the hell do you think you're doing? I asked as we galloped our way through the trees.
Huh?
What's with all the pushing and shoving? It's my job to protect you, not the other way around.
Sam huffed, impatiently. You really want to do this now? Ok, fine. Tobius isn't here, that makes you Alpha, and that makes me your Beta and bodyguard. Like it or lump it, bucko.
I blinked. You've been watching English soap operas again, huh?
What? Blue-greens glowed at me as we pounded the forest floor with our paws.
Like it or lump it? I snorted. Not even Sire says shit like that.
Shuddup Dean and move!
Bossy little shit!
If it keeps you alive, damn straight!
Deeper in the trees to our right, something ran passed us at lightning speed. We couldn't make out who or what it was, just listened to the light patter of paws. A few seconds later we heard another volley of arrows sent whistling towards us, but this time they struck the ground in front. We skidded to another halt, panting, heads swivelling around, desperate to find a way out.
We couldn't see him, but his scent was strong. Maybe that was intentional.
Maybe this was Crowley's trap, and we'd skidded headlong into it.
Crowley? I called out. It was time for the showdown.
"Well, well, well. Aren't you two just the clever little puppy dogs?" Crowley answered, almost immediately. "And Sam… how sweet, wanting to protect your precious fatherbrother from little ol'me."
No doubt the sonofabitch had been listening in and laughing at us all along.
"I'm amazed it took you so long to figure out what I am, lads," the smug bastard continued gloating. "After all, I left you enough clues. And you were right about the Sleepworm, by the way. Once I figured out how to use it with a rage ritual, it opened up a whole new world for me. So I… explored it."
A twig snapped to our right, but Crowley's voice was coming from everywhere.
He didn't leave us hanging for long, just stepped out from behind a tree to our left. His lower legs were wolfed out, but his upper body was all human. A quiver of arrows was strung across his back, each with lethal looking silver arrowheads.
He was grinning, holding a magnificent longbow, one arrow nocked and at the ready.
Fuck you, Crowley! I growled and pawed at the earth, barely resisting the urge to charge. Just go ahead, if you think you take us. But we won't go down without a fight.
Easy, Dean, Sam whispered.
I looked at him. The kid was glancing all around us, watching the shadows.
What is it, Sam?
I…
"Do you know, in the year 1415 at the Battle of Agincourt, I managed to fire off two hundred arrows a minute?" Crowley shrugged casually, but there was no mistaking the puffed up arrogance and pride. "Of course you don't know. It didn't exactly make the history books because Weres weren't allowed in the club back then. We had to take on the French in cognito, as it were. But my point is, if I wanted you dead, you'd already be decomposing corpses. No, mate. I've got bigger and better plans for you."
His eyes glowed cherry red and he let out a sudden, hair-raising battle howl.
With a quiet rustle of leaves, we found ourselves surrounded by around thirty non-lunars armed with longbows.
And they were all Type Ones.
Holy crap, I muttered.
Sweet Jesus, Sam gasped at the same time.
It didn't occur to me to be surprised at their generosity of allowing us to thought project.
"We're growing in numbers every day," said Crowley, quietly watching our reaction with some amusement. "The Type One is no longer teetering on the brink of extinction. We can once again be all powerful and strong, like we were before the days of simpering humans. The world can be ours again, as it should always have been. So what do you say, my precious nephew?" lowering the longbow, he held out a hand to me, red glowing eyes filled with genuine earnest and invitation. "Join us. Leave your little, so called son to me; I'll deal with him for you. Let us storm the Canadian Pack grounds and wrench the Alpha seat from the hands of that idiot Marcus and his anal retentive siblings. Become a Type One, and we can rule it together, as true family."
The Type One army stood in silence, longbows nocked with arrows, ready to fire.
Sam turned his head to glance at me just for a second, then changed instantly into his human form. His tall figure stood proudly, head up, staring at his great uncle with narrowed eyes.
Sammy?
But he wasn't listening.
"Tell me something," he asked, face expressionless.
Crowley bowed his head briefly, silently granting his permission.
"When did you decide to turn against your loved ones?" Sam's voice turned bitter and angry. "What made you betray everything that your pack stood for to become a Type One? Revenge? Did someone wrong you in some way? Shit in your cereal perhaps?"
While I spluttered with the effort of trying not to laugh, Crowley merely smiled.
It wasn't a nice smile.
"For a start, I'm a Type One now. Therefore, they are no longer my true pack or my loved ones. Haven't been for some months. As for revenge? I assure you, my reasons were far simpler than that," he answered on a flourishing bow. "And the word we're looking for here, people, is power."
It was my turn to change.
"Power?" I scoffed, loudly. "And you think consorting with demons is going to help you get that? Jesus! Are you really that stupid? You know they always want something in return, right?"
"Or course they do," said Crowley, and his gaze grew brighter as it swung back to Sam. "Only, it's not something, as such. More a someone…"
This was it. If we were going to make our move, it had to be now.
Sam caught my eye and I nodded.
In a flash we were back to wolf form and running at the Type One non lunars.
It was a long shot, but it worked. Instead of predictably leaping over the top and risking a silver arrow to the heart, we barrelled into their legs, snapping and biting any limbs in our way. A surprised Crowley was barking out orders, but he didn't dare fire for fear of hitting one of his precious pack.
As soon as we were clear, we didn't stop, just carried on galloping through the trees. When the expected volley of arrows rained down we began dodging and zigzagging back and forth.
Neither of us had any clue what direction we were going in and sure as hell didn't care. The only direction we were concerned with was as far away from Crowley and his army as we could possibly get. It wouldn't be long before they abandoned their longbows and came at us like a pack of, well, wild dogs.
We were in luck. Beneath our paws we could make out a low thundering rumble.
I smell water about a mile up ahead, said Sam, excitedly. Swim for it?
That'll work, I answered, gleefully.
We shot off towards our impromptu escape route. Above the growing noise of pounding water, we could just make out the baying of Crowley's wolves. Crowley himself would be in the lead, being the fastest wolf...
I glanced over my shoulder and right into the incensed red gaze of my former uncle. It shocked the hell out of me that he'd managed to get so damned close without us having realised it. Kicking back with my powerful rear legs, I caught him across the muzzle, leaving a bright red gash with my claws.
Crowley howled in pain, and I took advantage of his distraction to get in another kick, this time to the side of his head. It sent him careening into a large fir tree, where he fell to the ground, crumpled and still.
We didn't have much time. Crowley wouldn't be out for long and then he'd be coming at us, faster, harder, and angrier.
Nearly there, Dean, Sam urged.
We sped onwards, burst out from the tree line and, without stopping or pausing for breath, raced straight over the edge of a cliff.
It was significantly higher and steeper than I'd imagined and the waterfall was a scary, tumbling mass of water. Tons and tons of freezing cold mountain water falling, seemingly, forever downwards.
Oh shiiiiit! I heard Sam scream. This was my fucking vision...
It was instinct, flinging my paws up over my snout, and scrunching my eyes shut; the wolf equivalent of hiding under the blankets when a scary monster climbs out from under the bed.
I must've looked like Scooby Doo.
And like the blankets, it did absolutely no fucking good whatsoever.
Just before I shit myself, I plunged into the raging rapids, and the last thing I remember were the dark waters closing over my head.
It was the feeling of coughing my lungs up through my gullet that brought me round again.
"Ugh… Gah… Pah!" I choked and spat out a gallon of murky river water and rolled onto my side.
It was a risky experiment but I kind of had no choice. It was time to open my eyes, and I wasn't looking forward to what I might find. My grit caked lids cracked to half mast, but it wasn't exactly helpful. All I could see was mud.
It was possible to tell that I'd changed to human form at some point, because my toes were bare and cold, and other parts were in danger of shrivelling right the hell up!
Rolling again until my upper body was supported on shaky elbows, I opened my eyes all the way.
Then, I shot upwards in a panic and broke into a run.
I'd been swept along the river for some miles, by the looks of things. At a guess? Around twenty, give or take.
Although I could just about see the top of the tall waterfall in the distance, our very own jump zone, now partially shrouded in early morning mist, I didn't recognize my surroundings.
But that didn't matter right then, because across the fast flowing river on the other bank, Sam was caught up in the branches of a gnarled old fallen tree, face submerged in the water, his head bobbing up and down in the eddies and currents.
Sammy? You ok?
No answer. And somehow I had to cross the river to check on him, preferably without getting swept away again. It was a miracle we hadn't been further separated by the initial jump, let alone by the river itself. At least Sam was in sight, if not in touch.
Sam! C'mon, wake up!
The kid didn't move and, gradually, the scent of his blood reached me across the water. Thankfully, I couldn't smell silver so I knew he hadn't been hit by an arrow. Any injuries would be superficial, but they could be painful and incapacitating for a while.
I just had to hope that Crowley was out cold for a little longer, because Sammy was in need of some downtime.
Scanning my side of the river, I found nothing of use. The river was much wider here than it had been at the jump zone, so Sam was around a half mile away.
Dammit, kid, wake up!
There was nothing for it. It was time for another swim.
Bracing myself for the icy waters, I splashed my way upstream through the shallows. If I calculated it just right, the river would carry me to Sam. So I stood knee deep, watching, and judging.
In the end, I just shrugged.
"What the hell."
And plunged in.
"Fuck me fuck me fuck me it's coooold!" I all but screamed, part of me perhaps hoping it would wake Sam up; kid wouldn't want to miss this prize blackmail material for the world. But no. He just lay there, imprisoned helplessly by the old tree, hair fanned out around his head like seaweed in the water.
I was starting to worry. Irrational, I know, because there was no silver involved and therefore Sam couldn't be dead. But hey, he's my son and brother, and he was obviously injured in some way. How would you expect me to feel?
Though the current tried to sweep me away it wasn't as strong as I expected, and werewolf strength lent me an advantage most humans would kill for. Now able to face the river fully aware and fully conscious, I struck out, front crawling across and only allowing the current the smallest leeway, the tiniest pull, in order to get me closer to Sam.
I felt a sense of smug satisfaction when I moved closer and faster to the tree than expected. My hand came up and slapped against the trunk, halting my perilous journey. With a huff and a grunt, I managed to pull myself up, hoping like hell the damn branch wouldn't break and plunge the both of us back in the water, and used a hand over hand technique to pull myself along. It creaked and groaned a time or two, and I stopped, holding my breath, waiting for the inevitable sound of a cracking tree limb and fully expecting to find myself plunged back into the icy flow once again.
But it never came.
Feeling my spirits lift at this unlikely streak of good luck, I carried on moving until I was right next to the kid. The branches had actually rescued him from being pulled further away down river. Further away from me. God knew how long it might have taken me to find him if that had happened. Even with an enhanced sense of smell, hearing and sight, it would've been possible but troublesome.
"Alright, Sam," I advised him as I hooked an arm under his chest. "I'm gonna pull you free, ok? After three. One… two…"
I tugged, hard, and the branches keeping him captive, snapped. Rolling him over onto his back in the water, I peered at his face.
Blood was pumping from a large gash on the side of his head, just under the hairline, turning the water a muddy shade of pink. A flap of skin lifted up to reveal a nasty compound fracture to his skull.
I winced.
"You're gonna have one hell of a headache, kiddo" I said to him, gently pulling him up against my chest. "But you'll live."
The nearest bank wasn't far off. All it would take was a few strong strokes and we'd be high if not-so-dry.
But then…
REEEOOOWWWLLLLL!
Shit. Crowley. From the distant sound of his hunting call he was still back at the jump zone, trying to track us, but it's hard to hunt by smell alone when your prey has gone for a paddle down river.
I knew it wouldn't be long before he and his Type One army began scouring the banks and shoreline for us, and given that one of us was injured we'd have trouble outrunning them.
I hung my head. Already I was getting sick to death of this fucking river, but the damnation of the thing was that it had the power to save our lives for a second time.
I glanced at the tree. Not being overly thrilled at the idea of getting separated from Sam again, I sighed heavily, and pushed the kid up over the main trunk. Holding him in place with a hand to his back, my feet kicked out, and I began rocking the tree violently to and fro.
With one final creak and a loud groan, the tree tore free of the bank; great clods of earth dislodged and tumbled down into the water. It left a clearly visible crater, obviously recent, but that was irrelevant now. After all, Crowley wasn't stupid; he'd know we survived so he was heading downriver towards us anyhow.
Swept away by the river to an unknown destination, unconscious little brotherson draped more or less safely over the old tree, I had time to reflect on things.
It wasn't everyday we found ourselves floating downriver in the Canadian wilds, butt naked and freezing our balls off, with an army of psychotic non-lunars out for our blood. Hopefully, Sire, Marcus and Castiel would find out that things hadn't gone according to plan, and come after us…
I straightened up in the water when a sudden thought hit me.
No, they couldn't afford to leave the pack grounds so defenceless. They needed every wolf capable of fighting close to hand. And Sammy and I needed to get word to them somehow, try to warn them of what was coming.
I began frantically kicking with my feet, no longer such a passive river passenger. This time I was assisting with the journey, though I had no clue where we'd end up.
TBC...
Will Crowley catch up with Sam and Dean? Or will the boys manage to evade him?
What challenges await our beloved boys out in the wilds of Canada?
You know the rules: you wanna find out, then you gotta leave a review!
Oh yeah, and check out my profile for some links to an artist mate of mine, Anita, who has also taken charge of the beta reading from chapter 18 onwards. She's come up with some pretty damn fine general Supernatural artwork if you fancy a look, and also some NCIS and other great stuff.
Cheers for all your support guys.
Love ST. xxx