Prowlers: Wild Things (30 page)

With an almost giddy surge of laughter and power, Jasmine bucked him off. She shot up from the floor and leaped at him again. He tried to stop her, but she knocked his arms away and tore open his abdomen. Winter staggered, whimpering, and stared at her with wide eyes.

"Your legend has kept you alive, but not anymore. You have been a diplomat too long, Winter. This warrior's death I give you is better than you deserve."

Jasmine leaped on him as he fell to the floor amidst water and blood. Her snout darted down and her fangs tore his flesh, the warm crimson fluid of his life soaking her fur.

"Get up, bitch," growled a voice behind her.

Jasmine turned just as Olivia's claws raked across her back. The last of the Navarre bloodline did not just tear at her, though. Olivia struck her with a closed fist, fighting like a human as well. Then she lifted Jasmine off the ground and threw her against the smoldering remains of the bar. Jasmine's head struck the charred wood, and she lay there a moment, dazed.

"Tell you something, Jasmine. Tanzer got unlucky. From what I hear, he just went to the wrong town, killed the wrong kids. You, though? You're just stupid. All me and my uncle ever wanted, all most of us want, is to live our lives, be left alone."

Olivia walked toward her, sniffing the air, growling low. Jasmine lay, taking long breaths, letting her mind clear.

"We may want peace, but we're still Navarres," Olivia snarled. "You should have known better."

The girl reached her talons down to grab her again. Jasmine turned, lashed out, and dug long, bloody furrows in the fur on Olivia's face. The younger Prowler reeled and Jasmine was up then, lunging at her, driving her down. Claws tore flesh. Blood spilled.

Outside, over the din of growls and grunts of conflict, Jasmine could hear sirens in the distance.

Careful not to slip on the water-drenched floor, Jack ran through the smoke and the rain falling from the sprinklers above, shotgun held at waist level, finger on the trigger. He came upon a pair of Prowlers tearing each other apart and did not know which was his ally, which his enemy, so he simply passed them by. The monsters were too intent upon each other's destruction to pay him any mind.

Not afar away, amidst a circle of dead Prowlers — ripped open, decapitated, with heads and arms twisted at impossible angles — were five of the creatures, two females and three males. Jack saw the rich, deep brown on the largest one, and knew it was Bill. Recognized him. One of the females fought at his side, two against the other three. Even as Jack ran toward them, Bill's companion was slammed against the wall, her throat ripped out.

"Damn it," Jack muttered.

His heartbeat was the loudest thing in the room and he gripped the shotgun so tightly that his hands hurt. This was what had to be done, no way around it. If fighting to keep these things from slaughtering any more humans cost him his life, there wasn't anything he could do about that. Jack Dwyer was not stupid. He did not want to die. But he had come to understand that protecting the people he loved, combating these savage beasts, was perhaps the most important thing he would ever do. He could not have turned away even if Bill's life were not in jeopardy.

Water streamed down his face, soaked his shirt, ran down his back. Spitting, Jack wiped a hand across his eyes to clear them. As he did, a Prowler loomed up suddenly in front of him.

Jack swore under his breath and stopped short. His shoes slipped on the water and he actually slid a few inches but did not fall. He brought the shotgun barrel up and began to pull the trigger.

The Prowler raised his hands. "Jack, wait!"

"Bowden?" Jack asked, letting the pressure off the trigger. He shook his head and then ran on past the Prowler, letting Bowden fall into step beside him. "Almost got yourself killed."

"The night's still young," Bowden replied.

Side by side, the two of them stumbled over dead Prowlers. One of those attacking Bill looked up, spotted them, and lunged for Bowden. The two beasts fell in a tangle of flailing limbs and snapping jaws and Jack ignored them.

Bill could barely fight. One of his arms was bleeding profusely and hung limp at his side. There were open gashes in his flesh that Jack could see even through the fur. Despite his wounds, Bill crouched low and glared at his two remaining attackers with damning eyes.

He growled and urged them to attack.

Jack couldn't fire. With the spray of a sawed-off, he was sure to hit Bill as well. Scenarios raced through his mind, but he didn't have time for much strategy. Olivia had gone after Jasmine, Courtney and Molly were stuck in the corner.

And suddenly, from very far away, he could hear sirens.

Abruptly Jack shifted directions, cut diagonally across the room, though still toward the wall. He stepped over a headless Prowler corpse, eyes always on Bill. But Bill never looked at him, intent upon staying alive.

From the side, Jack ran along the wall, slid up next to Bill and raised the barrel of the shotgun again. The Prowlers were startled for just a moment.

It was all he needed.

Jack pulled the trigger, almost point blank, and the shotgun roared and bucked in his hands, tearing the Prowler in front of him nearly in half. A spray of bone and fur and viscera hit the ground in a shower only seconds after the torn-up corpse of the beast.

But as he swung the barrel to the left to shoot the other one, it leaped at him. His finger twitched on the trigger, but he was going to be too late.

With one huge hand, Bill grabbed the surviving Prowler by the throat and hauled him out of the air. He stared into the other beast's eyes and whispered one word, low and cruel and merciless.

"No."

Bill snapped his neck and dropped him there on the wet floor. But when Jack went to his side, his friend was shaky on his feet. Bill shook himself suddenly and a new focus came into his eyes.

"Courtney," he said. "I heard her voice."

Jack nodded. "She's here. And Molly and Olivia."

"And Jasmine," Bill snarled.

Together they started back across the club, amidst the dead. Jack looked around for Bowden and a sick twist went through his gut when he spotted a grievously wounded Prowler — the one who had been attacking Bill — rising from the ground, Bowden's eviscerated body on the floor beside him.

Jack leveled the shotgun again and blew the monster's head off.

A sudden burst of gunfire from the other side of the room drew his attention. There were Prowlers all around still, but far fewer than before. Now, though, many of them perked up as the sirens grew closer. In alarm, both allies and enemies began to run or limp for the door. Even as they went, their bodies changed again, snouts withdrawing, fur buried beneath newly generated skin, the wild cloaked under a veil of humanity.

Jack started to go after them.

Bill grabbed his arm. "Forget them."

More gunshots, and Jack gazed across the room to see that not all the Prowlers were leaving. Six or seven of them were rushing at Molly and Courtney. Already several dead creatures littered the floor — Jack wondered exactly what kind of body count they were dealing with here, and how many of Jasmine's pack would survive the night.

Even as he and Bill ran to their aid, Jack saw Molly reach behind her back and pull out her second nine-millimeter. She fired a couple of rounds into the nearest Prowler and it went down hard. But Molly did not drop the other, empty weapon. Instead she slipped it into the waistband of her pants, knowing that her prints would be on it and leaving it behind would be a bad idea.

That was when Jack knew that they could never go back from this. They were in this war forever.

Courtney pumped her shotgun and took down another Prowler. Molly shot two others who didn't die but fell, wounded, and began to crawl hurriedly away.

"Hey!" Bill shouted.

The three who remained heard his voice and froze. They turned, backing away as they did so, cornered animals. Jack leveled the shotgun, but Bill pushed the barrel down. He stared at the others.

"Give me your throats and you can live."

For a second, Jack didn't understand what he meant. Then the three Prowlers fell to the ground and lay on the wet floor, heads back, baring their throats to him, to this beaten, blood-covered creature, to Guillaume Navarre, and Jack understood.

"Bill, you can't . . ." Courtney whispered, for she understood too.

"I have to," he said. Then he stared at the Prowlers on the ground. "Get up, and get out of here. Come find me in Boston when you can. You're my pack now. I've got your scents. If you don't come to me, I'll come to you. And I won't be alone."

The monsters all glanced once at Jack, then back to Bill. They got up and fled the club, shapeshifting as they went.

"Olivia," Molly said.

They all turned at once. Only a few skirmishes were still going on, those Prowlers with such hate and bloodlust in them that they could not break off trying to kill one another, no matter the cost.

In the middle of The Voodoo Lounge, Olivia and Jasmine tore at one another. Both of them were bloody, but Olivia looked the worse off. She was strong, and impossibly fast, but Jasmine was older, a hardened warrior, and Jack doubted Olivia had ever really been a fighter, despite her strength and youth and speed.

Courtney let her shotgun dangle in one hand, picked up her cane, and the four of them hurried across the club, the sirens growing closer in the distance. As they approached, Olivia lunged in again but Jasmine batted her away, then lashed out and slashed her ribs. Olivia went down in a tumble, whimpering, and Jasmine poised to leap upon her.

"Molly," Jack said.

With a steady hand, Molly shot Jasmine once in the back, spinning the Prowler around. She went to her knees, but then looked up and saw the four of them coming, and slowly, she rose, snarling, frothing at the corners of her mouth, jaws gnashing.

Olivia rose painfully and moved around Jasmine to cling to her uncle. Jack thought Bill might have been crying, but with the sprinkler system still showering down on them, he could not be sure.

"You're done," Jack told Jasmine. Molly moved up beside him, and he took comfort in her nearness.

"How?" Jasmine snarled, unsteady on her feet. Her fur was matted with blood and water and even as she turned to glare at Bill, her orange eyes had lost much of their gleam. "You are a coward. You truck with humans, even mate with them. You
love
them. Weakling," she spat. "Traitor."

"Give me your throat," Bill instructed her. "And I'll let you live."

"I am Alpha!" Jasmine snarled, but there was pain in her voice and she staggered a bit.

"Give me your throat!"

With a growl that sounded more like a scream of agony, Jasmine reared back and sprang through the air at Bill and Olivia, talons poised to tear them apart.

Jack and Molly fired simultaneously. Blood roses blossomed from Jasmine's fur and she fell to the floor. She coughed once and then lay still, sprinklers raining like tears down upon her face.

EPILOGUE

It all seemed surreal to Jack after that. They wiped down the guns to get rid of any prints and dropped them, then went up on the stage and out into the wings. The girls from Thornbush had left the stage door open and they went out into the alley just as they heard the scream of fire engines pulling up in front. The police would arrive soon, but they weren't here yet.

Bill and Olivia were both badly injured, but nothing that wouldn't heal. Whatever extraordinary biological functions made them capable of changing their physical form seemed to help them recover from wounds supernaturally fast. They had transformed, now, taken up their human disguise again, but their clothes were soaked with blood and neither of them could move very fast due to their injuries.

Jack glanced at Molly and Courtney, then set off along the alley with the others in tow. They had to get their friends off the streets without drawing too much attention. That wasn't going to be easy.

In silence, urged on by the knowledge that The Voodoo Lounge would soon be one enormous crime scene — the focal point of either one of the biggest news stories or one of the biggest cover-ups in modern history — they rushed along the alley to the public parking lot at the end of the block where Bowden had parked his van. A van would have been a nice inconspicuous way to transport Bill and Olivia, but unfortunately, none of them had any idea how to hotwire a car.

"We'll have to get to our rental," Jack said.

Molly stared at him. "That's fifteen blocks from here, at least."

They could hear police sirens, even thought he could see blue lights flashing off buildings, growing closer.

"If we find a dark place to stash them on the way, we'll do it and come back for them," he said, gaze ticking toward Bill and then back to Molly. "Otherwise, we'll just have to stick to the shadows."

One month later, Jack and Molly stood on the sidewalk in front of the Lotus Club in Boston's Chinatown. A nervous energy burned through him, but when he looked at Molly, her calm, sparkling eyes soothed him. Jack had dressed for the occasion — which meant he was wearing pants other than blue jeans. The severe crew cut he had given himself had driven him crazy but now had almost completely grown back. Molly, of course, had washed the blond out of her hair within a couple of days. Tonight she looked radiant in a simple black cocktail dress and a soft, stylishly-cut leather jacket he had bought for her.

"You up for this?" he asked her, hefting the shopping bag he held in his left hand. "This place can be a little intimidating."

Molly stepped in close, snuggling up beside him, and kissed him on the corner of his mouth. "Wouldn't miss it," she said, mischief in her gaze and the way her hand slid across his chest.

"Into the underground, then," he replied, and rapped on the door.

"We've been part of it for a while now. This is just the first time we've had something to celebrate," Molly told him.

The door was opened by a man whose face was not familiar to them. He bowed and stood aside to let them pass. Jack took Molly's hand and together the two of them went inside the Lotus. The music was not nearly as loud as it had been the last time Jack was there, but people were still dancing, laughing, enjoying themselves. On the left side of the restaurant, where the tables were set up for dining, people milled about in small groups, sipping at drinks and conversing amiably. Chinese lanterns hung around the club and streamers had been run along the walls and the bar.