The Hard Road

Ch12

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A dozen brushes and mops scrubbed and swished as Draco wiped mirrors and sink spigots. He had just finished the mess hall latrines and started on the classroom building when the door handle slammed against the wall beside him.

"Malbec!"

He jerked to attention as hobnail boots pinged across the wet floor. LeClerc's eyes turned glossy black as he fisted his shirt. The man's forehead knotted and his teeth clenched as white hot anger radiated off his body.

Draco's Slytherin sense was pinging. This wasn't the time to ask questions, so he waited. It took a whole three seconds. "The werewolves are running amok. Your name keeps coming up."

"Yes, Chief Sergeant. How can I assist?"

"You will unfuck this immediately! Command has Grimms on the way."

A rock hit the pit of his stomach. His inclination was to duck away and hide behind locked doors, but apparently, his name was attached to the fiasco.

"Chief sergeant, how long do we have?"

"Twenty minutes before the rest of them get here." Sadness flickered in the man's hard eyes. "I trained most of these men. Good men... We could never get that pompous ass to listen. They are your brothers! Your fellow legionaires. Canard will be here in a minute." LeClerc's fingers ground into the center of his chest. "You will get this back under control!"

Draco's stomach knotted. They were coming to kill the lycanthropes. Wipe the slate clean and start fresh, which by extension, would include the blonde haired wizard they blamed for all the problems. "Yes, chef."

The door banged again as a huge werewolf guard burst in but LeClerc was already gone. The man's name-tag read Canard. Draco snapped to attention as the beast barked out, "You Malbec?"

"Yes..." He was in the middle of his answer when the guard grabbed him and burst out the door. He was half flying and half bouncing as they galloped. A building was coming up at breakneck speed, but instead of going around, the beast leapt completely over, bounced off the roof of a supply truck, hopped a three meter fence, and continued on as if he was playing with a toy.

Lightning crackled through the downpour just in time for a bloody heap re-animate. The compound's strapped steel door swung open and a wildling flashed out.

Inside was a roaring volcano. He swallowed hard. Canard put a hand on him. "It's bad." The werewolf gave him a quick run down.

Worry gnawed his stomach as he counted twenty wildlings. Where were the rest of the guards? "Remember our plan from earlier? I need your men to get as many as possible out and back under control so we can get to work."

The guard's ears pulled back. "I'm going to need you to do that wizard shit."

The problem was that keeping an Imperius on werewolves was tricky. it was like holding angry eels in your hand. It would be one thing if he was fresh, but it was probably half two. His body ached and his brain kept drifting, but they were all waiting for him. He scrubbed cobwebs out of his head. If this was Old Mic... It was time to live up to his reputation as a war criminal. He stood full up. "Chief Sergeant, I need a situation assessment."

"Cluster fuck."

"Please be more specific. How many wildlings?"

"Twenty four."

"Guards?"

"Thirty."

"I need the rest back. We need every single head we can muster. Anything else I need to know?"

"The base commander is probably dead."

"You mean he is dead."

The beast nodded. The pieces all clicked into place. The chief sergeant scratched the room out in the mud and detailed what he knew. The nurses had been huddled in a corner. All of them were severely injured. A pack of wildlngs had separated the base commander from the rest and lit into him. Rosencrantz was trying to save the commanding officer and nurses, but she had been injured as well.

The cavalry was coming to erase the problem, himself included. There was no time for complicated plan. They would drag the crazies out, imperius them, and treat as many as they could, then run the rest of them off.

He had to know. "What are the rules of engagement?"

"They kill anybody who is loose or out of control."

Translation: Kill everybody. Such was life. He didn't make the rules. Heavy bars had already clanked on steel barracks doors and every regular night watchman was long gone. Armed towers were dark. Eerie quiet settled over the base, broken only by the growls and howls. Canard's ears pulled back and worry rippled over his snout. "There's a bad one. Mean and crazy. Biggest werewolf I've ever seen. He's not like the others. He's trying to kill everybody. It takes too many of us to deal with him. The other ones get out of control."

Draco winced. Half of these guys were taller than him and outweighed him as well. The implication was clear enough. They agreed on the plan. He would get as many as he could imperiused while they cleared out the rest. The medics could get to work on Rosencrantz and the nurses. At a minimum, they had to get things back under control so that all of them didn't end up murdered, himself included. At best, they could get a few more treated before daybreak.

He was exhausted from the constant crush. His adrenaline from earlier was waning, but peals of thunder were rippling all around them. It wasn't often he got the excuse like this... His hands swirled in a figure eight as he chanted. Rain slicked through his hair and down the collar of his shirt. A sheet of water rippled up from his clothes. Raindrops were dancing between the white and blue sparks spiderwebbing around his feet. Ozone leaked in the air as his skin crawled. The big chief sergeant shuffled and squirmed as Draco said, "You might want to back up."

The big werewolf was backing off when Draco's face lit. An instant later, the world exploded and power surged through him.

The werewolf was rolling on the ground, cursing as he flapped at small fires dotting his smoldering hair. Pink flesh swirled into the black burn tracks on his legs and chest. Silver hair sprouted over the injuries, as if nothing had even happened. To Canard's credit, he was back on his feet in an instant, but he now kept a healthy distance.

With immense power bubbling through his veins, every scrap of worry was gone. He swung the door open and a wildling lunged straight for him. He poured a massive bat bogey hex into it. It was flailing and clawing at its jaws as bats poured out, filling the whole inside with flapping and squeaking. They snapped and bit, distracting everything from himself. Within two minutes, a dozen imperiused wildlings circled him, snarling and snapping at anybody who wanted to fight. He quickly huddled with the bloodied guards. Relief blanketed their faces as he reviewed the situation and their simple plan. They had safe rooms scattered across the base. Getting their charges locked away would be no problem once the rest of their crew arrived. The only hitch was the bad one. The guards were nearly all of a mind to let the Grimms deal with that one, but as they talked, a rock hit the pit of his stomach. "Is he a big Russian?"

They nodded.

"Koszjek. He's one of LeClerc's."

Cursing erupted as their confidence turned to angry growls. Snarling and yelling bloomed around him. They didn't want to deal with Koszjek riding the moon, but LeClerc on a killing spree was even worse. It was probably the power rippling through his veins. He knew what they needed to hear, but even as the words came out, he was cursing Harry Potter and the six months they lived in the same cell. "I'll manage this end and get the treatments back on track. You bring them here, and I'll deal with it, then you get them out safe."

They stared at him for a second and then, like a flash, they were off. One minute later, the place was cleared out except for half a dozen guards out front and his tiny phalanx of minions. In the back, nurses were fighting when his wildlings dragged the others off them and deposited the tornado of violence out front.

The silver mist of his healing spells settled like a foggy dew over the wounded nurses. They gawked as he took quick stock of their situation. Rosencrantz was trembling and glassy eyed. Her crimson stained uniform was ripped to shreds, revealing deep gashes and bite marks dotting her mummified flesh. Her left arm was broken and her collar bone bitten in half. Her broken lips were moving but nothing but red foam was sputtering out. He cradled her head and poured four jars of Wiggenweld down her throat followed by two shots of blood replenisher and skele-grow. From there, he moved on to the nurses. They flinched and jerked back when his minions collared two more wild ones and dragged them off. Seconds felt like hours as he waited for the first potions to kick in. Once they did, the Wesen nurses took over and got things back on the rails.

Snarling and snapping echoed out back. The saber tooth tiger nurse was tearing huge chunks out of four werewolves who had her backed into a corner. He shot a heap of chains around them and hauled them back, but she came flying at him. He threw up a shield and bounced her off. Her eyes were white with fury and her arms and face were slicked in watery blood. Her chest was heaving as her predatory stare bored deep into his soul. Torn chunks and werewolf parts littered the ground around her, but she had been backed into a desperate situation. She could easily tear them limb from limb, but they simply regrew in the full moon. Worse, they became more and more desperate to eat her with each injury. He held up his hands. "Are you hurt?"

Her wild snarling hiss answered. Her eyes flicked back and forth as his minions dragged the wild ones off. The muscles on her shoulders were hard balls. Long, black claws extended and retracted from her fingertips every time her forearms knotted. He backed away a bit and waited. Her voice was hoarse when it came. "He was a stupid fuck. We had everything under control. Then he sent half the guards home. Too much overtime pay, he said!"

"They need your help inside."

"I can't leave him."

Draco eyed the heap behind her. Its chest was torn open and was missing all of its guts. "Its too late now. He's already dead."

"They'll court martial all of us. Send us to jail."

"The Grimms are already on the way."

She swallowed hard. Her fingers started trembling. A tear rolled down her cheek. "I've got a husband and son. I... Please."

They hauled the base commander's body back inside the building and got the other nurses working on the saber toothed lady. Two big syringes had Rosencrantz back on her feet, marching and pointing.

The final dose of the lycanthropy treatment was the most critical. He watched, half in awe, as a snarling wildling shook his head and stopped. It stared, shivered, and broke down crying. He was on his knees, apologizing to the nurses and thanking Rosencrantz. She patted him on the shoulder and moved him to a spot on the floor. The next werewolf did exactly the same thing about thirty seconds after the injection. He was groveling at Rosencrantz's feet, begging and pleading to let him stay sane. He would give anything, pay anything, just to be in control.

His minions sniffed cautiously. They were curious about the new turn and wanted to follow the sane ones out. A single guard collected six and raced them out into their first night of freedom.

Snarling and snapping erupted outside. His minions and six guards had another five corralled. Time was running out. Rosencrantz and her nurses stabbed all seventeen in quick succession with the huge needles. Werewolves shook and juddered. Some fell, others ducked low and stared around the room. Nearly all of them wept and begged the nurses to save them from returning to their past state.

Steel tore and clanked as the front door ripped off its hinges. He channelled every bit of his Death Eater training and imperiused as many as he could. He wanted fifteen, but only managed six as five guards swarmed and smashed steel pipes into the body of a werewolf that didn't even properly fit in the door. Thick cords of muscle wrapped arms the size of tree limbs. It bellowed and jerked, tearing the heavy iron door frame's bolts completely out of the concrete wall.

A werewolf that would have made Hagrid look normal grabbed four guards and threw them like ragdolls across the room. It lunged straight at him and he bellowed a Crucio straight into its nose. Bones shattered and spirals of leathery skin peeled loose as the beast convulsed. Heaps of fiery chains shot out of his fingertips and wrapped the snarling monster into a glowing coccoon. One quick swing sent it clattering back outside, but it smashed right back through and tore into the ranks before him.

He summoned a gigantic snake of rainwater and sent it slithering and gushing into the beasts nose and mouth. It was choking and clawing at the wave of water crashing it back out the door. The remaining crew of guards and imperiused werewolves met Koszjek at the crumbling hole in the wall that used to be the door and bulled him outside.

He poured another lightning fuelled Crucio into it, shattering bones and tearing skin off in ragged strips, but it swirled and snapped back into place as quickly as it ripped off. Cutting curses ripped and slashed while blasting curses blew whole chunks of meat into mush, but it shook it off and hooked its claws into his shirt.

One flick and he was cartwheeling through the air and then skidding on the ground with the beast slavering on his face. He rolled away as fast as he could and popped up a shield, which the werewolf pounded on until it smashed through and grabbed his leg. He kicked its nose with all his might and blasted bat bogey hexes and fireballs up its snout.

The crowd of growling and snapping allies evaporated the second two muggle helicopters rumbled overhead. The rotor wash blew up a tornado of water and spray as they flew in a low circle.

Lightning rippled down around him, skinning Koszjek and sending the aircraft beeping and buzzing away. Burning flesh sloughed off as new swirled pink and instantly sheeted with thick, gray fur. Long streamers of drool drizzled off its huge fangs.

He wrapped fiery chains and electric barbed wire around its body, but it shook them off like ash. Its ears pulled back and it's lips rolled off white fangs. It backed off and slowly circled as muscle and skin wrapped back over the gaping wounds. Fiery red eyes studied him. It flashed in, but his boiling hex sent it yipping and rolling while steam exploded off its fur.

Its next lunge turned into a feint, sending his spell whipping off into the storm, and it was on him in an instant. He was pouring every sort of combat magic he could conjure while Koszjek's fangs gouged his cheeks.

Spikes and spines slashed into the werewolf. It clawed and smashed at them, giving him seconds to tear loose. He sent an ocean of mud into its lungs as it snatched him and tore.

Rosencrantz was coming up behind the beast fast with the saber toothed nurse on point. A quick flash-bang knocked it back half a step and he poured another crucio into it. Flesh splattered as claws tore out of its fingers and shattered bones stabbed through, but it caught Draco and chomped down on his shoulder. Pain roared as his bones snapped like twigs. Claws dug deep, but he held the curse with every ounce of power he possessed. His ribs were crackling and his breath left him. The beast's bones snapped and popped back into place and he swung a giant backhand, knocking Rosencrantz and the monster nurse flying. He stood full up with Draco hanging in his mouth, and shook him like rag doll. Draco's whole body whipped side to side, cracking bones and tearing his ribs.

Koszjek's fiery eyes fluttered. He eyed Draco, and then at the nurses. He spit Draco onto the ground, and grunted out, "Fucking hell Malbec!"

Were-Koszjek nursed his jaws. The beast cradled his skull as he fell to one muddy knee. "Do you have any idea how bad that hurts? Your fucking spells literally peeled every scrap of skin off my entire body! Fuck! My guts are on fire. Literally! As in flames are shitting out my ass!" The beast's mouth drew open and he vomited hundreds of red-eyed bats. Shivers rippled over the giant werewolf. "And I fucking hate those cursed things!"

Draco's brain was throbbing as the world teeter tottered in and out. His left arm cupped the mauled scraps of his right shoulder. Koszjek spit two dozen broken fangs out in one giant slick of blood.

A punch in the side spun him around. Koszjek's dilated eyes instantly focused and he darted sideways. Light flashed in the darkness and another impact knocked him to his knees. Pain filled his chest as weariness soaked into his bones. His shirt and pants were hot. He coughed up a mouthful of irony goo, and then a second. His breathing was crackling and hissing from a hole in his chest. He reached for a vial of healing potion, but his arm was dead. It dribbled past his fingers as the werewolf zig-zagged across the field in a gray blur.

People were yelling and running, but it didn't make any sense. Nothing did. He stared at the blob of mush that used to be his right hand. Cherry red crackled out of his mouth and drizzled down the shreds of his uniform. He was pushing up, but his arm folded, sending him face first into the muddy slush. Hands were on him, pulling, but he was tired. So tired. Voices buzzed and hissed. His vision was drifting in and out when he stumbled over a man's waxy face, and the world turned black.