Chapter Eighteen:
Hunter's Courage
The Covered Bridge:
Major Bruckner panted heavily as he reached the center of the covered bridge and fell upon his knees, feeling overwhelmed by the churning storm of emotions raging inside of him – frustration, rage, and also sorrow at the way the showdown in the Magistrate's Court had gone against him and his Feral Kin.
Despite inhabiting the body of her lover, his sister had failed to lure the newborn werewolf Katarina Clark onto their side…
Through his telepathic link with his sister, Bruckner had been fully aware of Elaine possessing the Scarlet Shadow. And so he, acting in accordance with Elaine's orders from afar, had led the Feral Kin in occupying the courtroom, laying the trap for Lord Hanbrook, Inspector Cooke, and Sergeant Allardyce. But out of those ranged against them in the courtroom, only the sergeant had fallen. And now the Scarlet Shadow was dead also – killed by that female outlaw whose will had been stronger then he and Elaine had expected.
The wooden floor of the bridge shook violently as Bruckner howled and slammed his clenched half-paw onto it, punching a small hole. He drew in a deep breath and slowly released it, remembering the need to control his fury and channel it for their vengeance against the town elders. But the losses of his minions had shaken his confidence.
Bruckner raised his eyes to the eastern horizon before him. The sky was still dark, still dotted with stars. Dawn was still some three hours or so away, he told himself. He would not revert to his pitiful human form just yet…
The last remnants of his Feral Kin pack surrounded him, whining – upset at seeing their pack leader having come back alone and injured. The stooped lupine female that was Ursula licked at the claw marks Katarina had inflicted, helping them to heal. Bruckner felt a twinge of pity that Ursula's mind, like the rest of the Feral Kin, was now more animal than human. When Shadowbrook was theirs, he would get Elaine to use her magik to turn Ursula into a sentient werewolf – like she had with the female Feral Kin in the church. Then he and Ursula would truly rule over their pack, in the name of the Shadow Witch…
Elaine herself was hovering just above Solomon the cat, disdainfully regarding each of the few Feral Kin present. Besides Ursula, there was Jack, a boy and girl from Brooksvane – plus two adult males and two adult females, again formerly human residents of Brooksvane.
"Not enough… The Feral Kin are not strong enough! My magik has accelerated their transformations, and trapped them in their current forms – but it has also made them twisted and lacking stamina. And my powers are nearly spent. I need to kill an elder, and feed off their tormented soul to become strong again!" the spirit of Elaine Bartlett spat, tensing her transparent fists. She turned to Bruckner. "Are you healed, my brother?"
"Lexington…," Bruckner rasped.
She scowled. "What of him?"
"He is dead! He was the loyal right hand of my smuggling mob. A good fighter…, and now he is gone!" Bruckner snarled and raised his lupine head towards the floating spectre of his sister, whose form was both wavering and slightly fading in and out of existence. "And for what? What have we achieved so far!?"
"Guard your temper, brother of mine! We have driven off the Gargoyle, and…," Elaine Bartlett trailed off.
"All of the town elders are still alive – are they not!?" Bruckner snarled, rising upon his balled feet. His knuckles cracked as he flexed his half-paws, wishing that his sister wasn't a ghost that he was unable to briefly throttle. It would have taught her a lesson – encouraged her not to fail to kill their shared enemies during the next chance. If there was a next chance, that was…
"Yes…" The expression on the Shadow Witch's flickering face darkened. "Do not drop your resolve, brother of mine! We have brought terror to the pitiful peasants of Shadowbrook – and we have made the hypocrite elders quake in their shoes!"
"Sunrise is not far away, Elaine!" Bruckner brought his muzzle close to his sister's spectral face, and winced as he felt the chill generated by her presence. "Come the dawn, the Feral Kin here will still be as wild as they are now – but I will become a mere human again," he spat.
"You will be able to change once more at the next sunset, Lucien. But you are right, my sweet. So before you revert, we need to make a final strike with what we have here." The Shadow Witch's scowl turned to a smirk. "Those interlopers – those would-be-heroes – have made our aims more difficult to achieve than I had expected. But if we cannot yet kill the elders here, then we should turn our attention towards Hanbrook Manor instead… Her ladyship is still there, having survived the plague of rats that my magik unleashed upon the household through my spy… Wait!"
At the same time as Elaine Bartlett held up her transparent hand, Lucien Bruckner and the Feral Kin sniffed the air. They all turned to see, lit only by the lights of Shadowbrook and the full moon above, the slowly-approaching, russet-furred humanoid-werewolf that was Katarina Clark. She stopped her bipedal walk upon seeing their yellow-eyed stares, but snarled a challenge – close to where the bridge met the ground on the Shadowbrook side. Her own amber-colored eyes focused upon the ghost of Elaine Bartlett.
"You wwill…pay for wwhat…you did…to Darr-ci-uss!" Katarina growled. She raised her claws. Her tail swished as she tensed herself to strike.
The Shadow Witch laughed mockingly. "A werewolf…hero? How amusing." She turned to Jack and a transformed couple from Brooksvane. "Kill her," she snapped at them.
But as the three Feral Kin snarled and ran towards Katarina, they all halted and sniffed, taking in the scent of the intruder. Then they whined.
"What…!?" Bruckner rasped.
In an instant, the hissing Shadow Witch was besides the female Feral Kin and she rested her hand on the minion's head, closing her eyes in concentrated thought. Then the ghostly witch snapped her eyes open and she hissed.
"This woman and her husband… They received money from Katarina's gang! Money that paid for their rent and food. Money taken from the rich! They remember you…" Elaine Bartlett turned her narrowed, blazing eyes from Katarina to Jack. "And this juvenile recognizes his fellow outlaw… Jack will not fight you! Traitor boy! Your loyalty is to your alpha male, you whelp! And to me! I remade you! Made you stronger. Gave you a purpose!"
"Thhank yyou…," Katarina growled softly to the three Feral Kin before her. Then she suddenly bolted past the Shadow Witch – and sprinted straight for Major Bruckner, who snarled back at her, eager to prove his superiority over the rogue pup.
Then Katarina changed direction and dived upon Solomon the cat.
"No! Solomon – run!" the Shadow Witch yelled. "I will aid you, Lucien." And with that, her floating spirit zipped back to Bruckner and entered his body – even as Solomon shot along the road leading towards Brooksvane and Tidewater. The first of the Feral Kin who blocked Katarina from harming the cat was soon cut down from a slash to her throat that was fast and accurate. Katarina grinned. She might not be using guns or her crossbow now – but she had her new claws and fangs instead. She was still deadly. More so, in fact.
Ursula's lupine eyes widened, and she pressed her half paw to the wound, desperate to stem the flow of blood. Then Katarina managed to slam her half-paw into the female Feral Kin's jaw, sending Ursula spinning and staggering into the nearest pillar that helped to support the roof of the bridge. There was a short, sharp cry from Ursula as her lupine skull struck the pole. Simultaneously, a 'crack' resounded.
Ursula's body wavered, and then flopped to the floor like a rag doll.
"That's yyour lover…dead too, nnow!" Katarina snarled, twisting round to face Bruckner. The death of the cat would have to wait, she realized.
Bruckner roared his fury – and dived upon her.
The nearest Feral Kin approached, ready to assist their pack alpha if needed. But then Jack and the couple with him snarled as they rushed in, freezing the others to the spot. Collectively, the pack slowly backed off – giving Bruckner and Katarina the space for their showdown as they fought furiously, their swiping claws cutting into the woodwork around them and tearing chunks away as the combatants rolled and crashed into the side of the bridge, gradually weakening the structure…
*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*
The Windmill:
Karl groaned as he was unceremoniously dropped a meter onto the ground by the Grotesque that had seized him within the olde woods. Before he could arm himself, another pair of Grotesques grabbed hold of his arms and pinned them behind his back – whilst the one that had kidnapped him landed on the window sill of the unlit building that stood before him. There was enough moonlight for Karl to glimpse the creature now squeezing through the broken window, and disappearing inside.
Karl took in the still, silent dark outline of the windmill towering above him as his heart pounded in his chest. He was sweating, he was grimy, and he was tired – but he still needed to focus. To keep his wits about him.
They have seized control of the windmill in our absence, it seems. I wonder if their creator has told them about the horror in the basement, he thought.
Memories of his party from earlier pained him, given the knowledge of what had since taken place. Thomas and Lucy receiving the Curse of Stone. Thomas being turned into a statue – whilst Lucy had been saved by Karl and Harlow Morgan, only to have one curse replaced by another, instead. One where she was now a barely-controlled werewolf who had initially tried to kill him…
And Heidi had turned out to be a spy for Isabella von Took. The German girl had bolted out on them, taking their hunting rifle.
The Grotesques suddenly moved, frog-marching Karl to the open doorway of the windmill, where one of the doors lay broken off its hinges. Then he was released and shoved through the gap. Immediately, however, taloned hands seized his shoulders from behind. Karl yelled as he was tossed to one side, crashing into the wall. When he raised his head from where he had fallen, Karl saw the blue-white bulk of the hated Gargoyle slowly advance upon him.
"You again…," Karl spat. His lips then formed a hard smile. "Your minions have not managed to take Shadowbrook, have they? Otherwise, you would be there – not here. And how did your forces fare against Major Bruckner and his Feral Kin, hmm?"
The Gargoyle stopped and angled its face as if to peer at the soldier thoughtfully. "It Seems That You Know Much, Human…," it rasped at him with its mind.
"I make it my business to know what I need to know, in order to survive…" Karl shifted himself so that he was on his knees. "How about you answer my questions?"
"The Shadow Witch, And The Wolf-Creatures That She Commands, Were Stronger Than I Had Anticipated When We Clashed In The Woods. They Drove Me Away! But I Retreated To This Place, To Revive… The Battle Between Her Forces And Mine Is Not Over! I Will Prevail Over HER! I Will Wear Down The Defenders Of Shadowbrook And Claim My Territory. By Right Of Conquest!" The Gargoyle hissed, exposing its stone fangs. "Now You Will Answer My Questions, Man Of Knowledge! Who Else Besides You And The People Of Shadowbrook Oppose Me?"
Karl chuckled. "Do you want all of their names, Gargoyle? There's that Inspector and his sergeant, a noblewoman and her retinue, a French schoolteacher who is stronger than she thinks, and a playwright who is apparently braver than he realizes. Plus, the Scarlet Shadow and his wiry lady outlaw. Oh, and amongst others there's a young lady who is now free of your Stone Touch." His face darkened. "You will pay for what you did to Thomas. He was a brash ruffian, but he was my friend."
The eyes of the villainous beast before him narrowed. "The Female That I Claimed Near Here Has Broken My Magik Over Her?!" It roared in sudden fury – and backhanded Karl with its fist, sending him flying onto the floor again. Then it clamped its hand on Karl's right leg. "You Will Replace Her!" it bellowed into Karl's aching mind.
He screamed as the monster's hand glowed blue. Agonizing pain sliced into the bones and muscles of his lower leg. Moments later, the hand ceased glowing. It was withdrawn, and the terrible sensation slowly faded away, to leave Karl's leg feeling stiff and heavy. He sobbed with the knowledge of what had befallen him, but he forced himself to remain focused. Slowly he turned to face his inhuman tormentor. Why had the Gargoyle stopped?
The creature was leering at him. Then it closed its eyes and frowned – as if in deep concentration.
Communication with another, from afar? Karl asked himself. After all, the creature seemed to speak to people with its mind rather than in the human tongue…
The moment ended. The Gargoyle opened its eyes and leaned forward over the slumped soldier. A talon was held close to Karl's throat.
"What Else Do You Know, Mortal? Speak The Truth – Or Suffer My Stone Touch Again…"
"We know that you are in league with Reverend Harding!" Karl spat. "He controls you!" His throat bobbed with fear, wondering what the reaction would be to his outburst.
It was not amongst the possibilities that he was expecting. The winged monstrosity laughed.
"Harding Is Merely My Tool! It Suits Me To Carry Out His Mission Of Vengeance On The Mortals Of Shadowbrook – Whilst I Create An Army For Myself. An Army Of Living Statues And My Winged Pets. An Army Now Tested – Whilst I Enjoy My Freedom From Those Who Tried To Bind Me To Their Will…"
The being suddenly fell silent, perhaps realizing that it had said too much.
Karl gathered his courage as he stared at his tormentor - the one who had sealed Thomas's fate - in the eyes. "Whose will?" he dared to ask.
"That Is Enough! You Will Remain Here, Human Hunter…" The Gargoyle straightened itself and faced a Grotesque that was perched inside an emptied burr stone. It was the same creature that had seized Karl from the woods, he realized – judging by a scar to its cheek.
The Grotesque looked back at the one that had given it life, and bowed its head to the Gargoyle. Then the Gargoyle strode outside, before flapping its bat-like wings and taking to the night air – leaving the perched Grotesque with sentry duty over watching the disabled prisoner, Karl surmised.
The Grotesque stared at Karl for several moments, as it moved its gaze up and down his body. Then it grinned, before curling its body into the resting position it had been in – the burr stone being directly between Karl and the doorway to freedom. As Karl's eyes slowly adjusted more to the moonlight that streamed in through the doorway and a small window, he slowly tried to bend and stand upon his legs – including the stone-touched one – whilst leaning against the wall behind him.
So the Gargoyle was using Harding. More so than Harding was using the Gargoyle, thought Karl. Interesting…
His keen eyesight, now having adjusted to the gloom of the moonlit level of the windmill, made out the lantern hanging on a nearby hook. Managing to light it, Karl crept along the wall, half-dragging his afflicted leg along, and reached a spot where he could take everything in. The trapdoor to the basement meal floor was still broken – but peering down, Karl could see the foot of the wooden steps was now guarded by the living statue of what might have once been the wife of the miller or the foreman. It turned its mop-capped head to glance up at him, and then returned to its sentry duty – watching over the trapdoor. It seemed that the demonic vanguard was still down below, lurking somewhere in the darkness of the basement, possibly biding its time…
Karl froze as he spied the pair of Grotesques just outside the windmill entrance – the same pair that had frog-marched him inside, he reckoned. Only their current postures and screeching made it clear that whilst they were preoccupied with each other, rather than standing guard, they were engaged in something that made Karl's throat fill with bile. He shuddered with disgust.
The creatures were…mating.
Karl turned round and took a deep breath, suddenly fearful. He turned and managed to force himself over to the burr stone where the sentry stirred at the intrusion of the light. It raised its face and hissed menacingly, baring its claws. He retreated; his fear confirmed as he saw what the sentry was curled around.
A clutch of eggs, set in a bed of hay that the creature had built. The Grotesques were breeding. The Gargoyle had thought in advance when it had given these creatures life.
And besides being interrogated, there was a reason why the Gargoyle had not yet killed him, or turned him into a statue. Having just his leg afflicted with the Stone Touch prevented him from escaping, whilst…
"…those eggs will hatch, and the babies will want food. And I am here to be part of their larder…," Karl whispered to himself in horror.
*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*
The Covered Bridge:
Katarina yelped and twisted her agile lupine form away from the flying pieces of wood that spun out from the shattered side of the bridge. Bruckner had slashed his sharp, vicious talons into it – having aimed for the head of the new werewolf.
She rolled aside and quickly rose to her feet – using her tail to aid her rapid change of direction. Katarina was still getting to grips with her changed body, her heightened senses, and her increased strength. The claw marks that Bruckner had already inflicted upon her in their brawl were already healing – but then so too were those that she had been quick enough to afflict on Bruckner's face and chest. Despite her success in challenging her anger and power against her indirect maker, Katarina was under no illusions that he and she were equals. Bruckner was physically stronger, hardier, and more ruthless. He was also more experienced in his humanoid werewolf form than she was.
Plus, he was being driven by his calculating sister, whose spirit was possessing and aiding him…
Her aggressive combat would not sustain her for long.
Nevertheless, Katarina's animal instincts were guiding her. To stay down would be to appear weak, and would give Bruckner the chance to finish her off…
She paused as she looked beyond Bruckner's wounded shoulder. Beyond the gathering of the motionless Feral Kin – who were evenly divided between those who wanted to kill her and prove their worth to their pack alpha, and those such as Jack who wanted Katarina to triumph over the Major. At the eastern end of the covered bridge, a couple of shapes had appeared – downwind. She stiffened, but then slowly relaxed a little. Some instinct told her that…
But there was no time to think any further. Bruckner had lunched himself at her again. The world spun round in a whirlwind of snarling, slashing, tearing, and sprayed blood as they collided and fought furiously for supremacy. Then Katarina found herself being thrown towards the broken gap in the side of the bridge. She slid along the blood-streaked wooden floor and came to a halt. Katarina whimpered as she pressed one half- paw over the deep slash running down the outside of her stomach and intestines. She willed herself to heal quicker. Then she realized something else besides the agonizing pain, as her body began to dip. Where she was slumped right now, her head and upper back had cleared the edge of the broken floor and side of the bridge. If she moved an inch in the wrong direction, or if the cracks in the now-creaking floor widened further, she would be taking an unplanned swim in the roaring waters of the River Shadow below her…
Katarina's heart pounded. She could only hope for one thing now. For Lucien Bruckner – and the Shadow Witch within him - to continue to focus upon her.
Bruckner appeared in the lower half of Katarina's swirling vision. Blood from a cut to her brow was oozing into her eye. But she still saw the pale-furred, muscular wolf man grin and scoff at her.
"You pathetic pup... You should have accepted your place in our pack, Katarina Clark. Now you will die, instead! My sister will perform the honors," Bruckner snarled. And with a pulse of energy emitting from his body, provided by the Shadow Witch, the shockwave struck Katarina and the damaged wood underneath her. The planks suddenly cracked – and then the wolf woman disappeared through the widened tear in the bridge. Her howl was silenced as Bruckner – and the Shadow Witch within him – saw Katarina plunge and splash into the churning waters. Within seconds the wailing werewolf was swept away downstream towards the marsh…
But both Bruckner and his sister were perturbed by the wide lupine grin on Katarina's face in the moment before she fell…
The growling of the Feral Kin made Bruckner spin round and take in the new arrivals he had missed before. There on the bridge, having advanced from downwind from the side of the bridge closer to the olde woods were two more werewolves – both of them in quadruped form. Then the larger of the two, a male, began to change form – his limbs and torso shifting into a more humanoid form. The female beside him closed her eyes and followed suit. Her bones 'crunched' and her muscles twisted, until she stood upright alongside her companion. Both of the intruders snarled at Bruckner.
The Feral Kin collectively whimpered and slowly backed away.
"Who dares to challenge us now…?" Bruckner roared in anger.
"Your…mmaker…," the male growled back as he flexed his clawed half paws ready for the battle that he had been dreading, but knew he finally had to face.
Two hunters versus a more powerful, and possessed, hunter.
"Ahh…," Bruckner rumbled back. "The one who twice failed to kill me – or so my sister has told me. Firstly at the crossroads, when you slaughtered two of my men. And later at my farm, when you failed to get past my Brutus." The Major snorted. "Even with another of our kind, you will fail to kill me again. But I thank you for the gift that you gave me. The gift of lycanthropy, which my sister was able to develop in me – and then twist into creating our Feral Kin here!"
" 'Tis no gift… I created you…by accident, Major. And now…I will take responsibility…for my mistake – and put you…down!"
Bruckner laughed. "Before I kill you… Who are you two?"
"I amm…Llucy…Hhanbbrook," Lucy snarled, managing to speak with a concentrated effort.
"And I am…Harlow Morgan…," Harlow growled in defiance.
"Morgan…? The little Welsh inventor who was at the Manor, on Friday night? YOU…are my sire?" Bruckner fired back, stunned by the revelation. He bellowed in rage.
Lucy's growl joined Harlow's. Acting on their instincts and anger now - as well as an instinct to protect the town, their territory - Harlow and Lucy leapt at Major Bruckner, and he bounded forward also. The three wolf people met in mid-air – and chaos unfolded once more before the watching pack of Feral Kin…
*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*
Shadowbrook:
Gustav the footman groaned as the pounding on his door refused to stop. Rising from his bed at the tavern where he had been staying since accompanying Mistress Isabella and Heidi into town, the gray-whiskered man checked that his nightgown was presentable enough. Keeping his feet bare, he lit the candle on his bedside stand and shuffled to the door.
"Who…is it?" he asked, stifling a yawn.
"It is me, Gustav! Quick – open up."
Startled by the voice, the footman unlocked the door. Isabella von Took slipped inside and swiftly shut the door behind her. Gustav was surprised to see his mistress looking distraught, with her eyes still red from crying. She was normally the epitome of keeping her emotions under control…
"What…? What has happened, madam?" he spluttered. "I know about the attacks on the town, of course – but since there was nothing that I could do, given my feeble state…"
"…you still managed to get your deep sleep. I envy you, Gustav," Isabella muttered. "If you are now alert enough, kindly pack your things! We are heading back to the manor. I need to speak to Josette… I mean Lady Hanbrook."
Gustav frowned. "Where is Heidi, my lady?"
Isabella looked to be on the verge of crying again. She was now visibly trembling. "Heidi…is dead, Gustav…"
"My lady!"
"It is my fault…!" She quickly told him what had happened on the roof of the Blacksmiths – and then added: "…then a pair of Living Statues attacked our group there. "I…was injured in the clash – then I ran off, leaving Anne Marie, Victor, and the Daltons to the fight. I…I am a coward, Gustav. I wanted adventure – and I have certainly found it here… But I have done wrong… I need my friend, Josette. Then I must decide…what to do."
The old man bowed his head in sympathy, and then he looked up. "You wish me to walk with you to Hanbrook Manor? Whilst it is still dark?"
"No, Gustav. We travel now – but not on foot. It would be quicker…and safer…if we took a coach. The coach house is next to this tavern, after all."
"But the coachman will not be working at this time of night, Mistress von Took!"
Isabella gave him a steely look. "Correct. So we must steal one of the coaches ourselves…"
*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*
The Covered Bridge:
Lucy Hanbrook yelped as she was sent flying by another of Major Bruckner's wild swipes. Crashing into one of the Feral Kin, Lucy panted whilst the gash to the side of her lupine head healed. As a human, she had been noted by her parents to recover quickly from wounds during her childhood. Youth, and being of good stock, her mother had proudly told her. Except that Thomas's discovery of her true date of birth had thrown the issue of her parentage into a state of confusion.
And now, being a werewolf, Lucy's powers of recuperation had been noticeably boosted. Her mind was clearer than before – having fed on a pair of hares with Harlow, soon after Karl had been snatched away from them. She remembered her all-consuming hungry and savagery which had driven her to attack Karl – and she felt horror and shame at what she had nearly achieved. She also felt gratitude towards Harlow for stopping her from murdering her childhood friend.
The full moon above… Giving the beast in me power. Cannot trust myself around humans yet… But my wolf now accepts Karl. The bond between us… It has helped me to hold back the beast, the human side of Lucy reflected to herself, somewhere in the swirling confusion within her psyche between wolf and woman.
After the Grotesque had abducted Karl, Lucy had wanted to chase the winged creature – to rescue Karl. Instead, she and Harlow had come across the hares – and the need to hunt, kill, and feed, had taken over. After that, another distraction had reached their pointed ears in the noise of fighting from the covered bridge. And investigating, she and Harlow had arrived in time to witness the conclusion to the battle between Bruckner and…some female werewolf. Lucy did not know who she was – but she felt grief that the other she-werewolf had been flung into the river by Bruckner and the Shadow Witch.
Teamwork… That was the key, the human part of her mind reasoned. It was too late to fight alongside the downed she-werewolf – but she would continue to fight alongside her maker, her pack mate, in order to save Shadowbrook from Bruckner and his manipulative sister.
Feeling her head wound heal, Lucy was surprised to see two of the younger Feral Kin before her stretch out their furred arms to help her up. A male and a female. They sniffed at her – and in turn Lucy drank in the scents of the adolescents, committing them to memory. Then, standing up upon her balled feet, Lucy heard the howling - and spun round in time to see Bruckner and Harlow, still locked in their deadly dance, fall from the side of the wrecked bridge. She wailed for Harlow, as her creator and mentor splashed into the River Shadow, alongside Bruckner – debris from the just-broken parts of the bridge floating alongside them. The churning waters began to carry the combatants downstream…
Snarling, Lucy turned and sprinted for the Shadowbrook side of the bridge – her new physique and full-moon fuelled psyche making short work of the bushes in her way as she climbed down to the west side of the river. The dark was no hindrance to her – her night vision was now excellent, and her heightened hearing and sense of smell soon draw Lucy to where she needed to be.
The two wolf men were just a yard or so away from the riverbank – their muscular arms and half paws now locked in a wrestling deadlock, as they struggled to keep their heads above water whilst being carried along by the river. But even as she watched, her heart pounding with apprehension, Lucy saw Harlow gradually being overcome by Bruckner. The outline of the paler-furred wolf man was glowing with a green aura, that was… Yes, slowly getter weaker. Lucy chewed her dark lip with her sharp teeth in thought. She could sense the malevolent female ghost that was empowering Bruckner inside of him. Was the Shadow Witch's magik finally weakening…?
"Lu-ceee…," Harlow wailed as he began to slip back into the river underneath the weight of the larger wolf man.
Howling, Lucy dived into the River Shadow without hesitation – feeling a lupine need to protect her pack mate and creator, as well as her human desire to save the life of the man who had delivered her from the Gargoyle's Curse of Stone. But once in the shifting waters, she had to fight to steer her course towards the wolf men. Once she had reached them, Lucy grabbed hold of Bruckner's broad shoulders from behind with her half-paws, pulling him off Harlow.
Bruckner sneered, and turned on her. Within moments, Lucy was being borne backwards by the Major's greater weight. She panicked and slashed at his arms and face. But he snarled, and pressed down on her forehead with his half paw.
"If I cannot kill your parents this night, Lucy Hanbrook, I will hurt them instead by drowning you…!" And with that, he dunked her into the cold waters of the Shadow and held her there.
Lucy's scream came out as a gurgle of bubbles as both the human and wolf halves of her spirit lashed out in terror via her limbs, desperately trying to undermine Bruckner in some way before she lost all of her precious breath. Already she was beginning to lose consciousness…
As Lucy managed to jerk her face forwards, breaking the surface, she heard the roar. Harlow's roar of fury. She saw Bruckner's head turn. There was a blur of motion – and then something impacted with the Major's face. He screamed and let go of Lucy.
Lucy felt her floating body crash into a boulder in the middle of the river. Gasping, she looked again at Bruckner, and then stared in amazement. Harlow had evidently grabbed one of the broken planks of wood from the bridge from the river. Then he had swung it into Bruckner's face. The Major had now collapsed upon his knees in a shallow bend of the river alongside Harlow. He was struggling to remove the plank from his face. More specifically, his trembling forepaws were unable to remove the large nail at the end that had been embedded in his eye.
Harlow panted and shot her a glance that conveyed more than words as he growled. Gathering her remaining strength, Lucy forced herself towards the shallow water to her left. Once there, she and Harlow grabbed hold of Major Bruckner together. How he was still alive, Lucy was not sure – except that his werewolf nature and the power of his sister must have been the reasons why.
"No… Mercy…!" Bruckner rasped.
"I doubt that you…and your sister…understand the word…," Harlow snarled. He grimly nodded at Lucy, and she nodded back. Then they dunked Bruckner's head underneath the surface of the water – and held him there. They did not let go, even when the Major's talons scrapped their arms in desperation. Nor did they release him when the flurry of air bubbles dwindled to a few, before stopping altogether.
There came the piercing cry of a woman's scream. It was full of fury and hatred, and yet it was also the wail of a grieving lady. A green glowing, mist-like shape rose from the body of the drowned wolf man, and hung in the night air for a moment. Lucy took in the fluttering hooded cloak, the smooth face underneath it, and the murderous glare within the sunken eyes that glared back at her and Harlow. Then the scream and the hateful apparition of the Shadow Witch faded and dispersed into nothing.
Without an unconscious body close by, Elaine Bartlett's spirit had gone. But Lucy's instincts told her that the ghost had only been defeated - not destroyed.
Lucy panted alongside Harlow. Then, acting as one, they dragged Bruckner's body between them onto the riverbank and dumped him on the mud at the edge of the marsh. Collapsing onto their knees with sudden exhaustion, the victors of the Major's final showdown leaned against each other and tentatively licked each other's wounds, helping them to heal quicker, even as the water continued to drip from their soaked fur. Then they sniffed the air, and spun round. The surviving Feral Kin were standing on the riverbank – their heads bowed, and their tails tucked in between their legs. They whined, and then they sank onto all fours, as if in submission. Harlow and Lucy took in the tilted heads and inquisitive looks directed to them.
Harlow turned to Lucy and grinned. "It appears…that we have…gained a pack, Lucy," he growled softly. "They now…await our command."
Lucy's mind reeled from their unexpected change of fortune. She had already become a pack leader? But Harlow was the one they should all follow and obey! And what was to happen now…?
"Kkarl…," she rasped. "Our pack…save Karl…"
"Agreed..." Harlow shook himself, making Lucy yelp as she was splashed. Still grinning, the inventor rose upon his balled feet and helped to pull Lucy up. She huffed and shook herself dry also, before walking alongside Harlow on her rear paws to take claim over their new pack…