The Anxiety of Kalix the Werewolf (83 page)

“Are you all right? he asked Thrix.

“I'm fine.”

Wallace had killed two hunters in the first moment of the attack, and his snout was still damp with their blood. Temporarily disorientated by the chaos in the foyer, he'd rushed up the stairs looking for more. He grinned at Thrix. “Let's kill more executives.”

A door opened at the far end of the corridor. A shot rang out. Wallace gasped as a silver bullet hit him in the shoulder, but it didn't slow him down. He sprinted toward the shooter. Thrix sprinted after him, each
werewolf traveling so fast along the corridor that the gunman had time for only one more shot, which missed. Wallace flung himself onto him, breaking his neck as they fell. He roared, then looked at his shoulder.

“Silver bullet.”

He shrugged. A strong werewolf like Wallace could take many wounds, even from silver bullets. Thrix, ignoring her own wounds, smashed open the door of the next office, and they leaped inside, looking for victims.

CHAPTER 163

Dominil, Sarapen and Morag MacAllister encountered fierce resistance as they fought their way to the IT department. Dominil was targeting the computers and Sarapen chose to stay at her side. Morag had appeared from the smoke, coughing and snarling.

“Nice job with the bomb, Sarapen. You almost killed us.”

Sarapen laughed. “It got us in.”

“Where now?”

“This way,” said Dominil, leading them onto the second floor.

Not far away, on the same level, experienced hunters from Group Eight had been resting between their shifts on guard duty. Now they advanced toward the fray. The second floor of the old building had never been renovated, and there was no long corridor where they could take cover and fire at distant targets. They were obliged to creep forward slowly, unable to judge much of what was in front of them due to the noise and smoke that now came from all parts of the building. They turned the corner into the stairwell just as Dominil and her companions arrived. The three werewolves leaped to attack and the fury of their werewolf battle cries could be heard even over the fire alarms. Three members of Group Eight fell before them. The last turned and fled.

Dominil stood over the bodies. “Anyone hurt?”

No one was.

“Good start,” said Morag. “So where are these computers?”

“At the end of this corridor, I hope,” said Dominil. Further along, the smoke was less dense, though the sprinklers drenched them as they hurried along. Dominil was unexpectedly knocked sideways as a door flew open
and a very large hunter stepped into the corridor. He was startled to find himself confronted by three werewolves, but he didn't panic. He raised his weapon and squeezed the trigger. Nothing happened. The gun had jammed.

“That's unfortunate,” said Sarapen. He swung his right paw at the large hunter and dealt him a crushing blow on the side of the head. The hunter was killed instantly. Dominil bent down and picked up his weapon. It was a small machine gun, similar to an Uzi.

“I've never seen a hunter use a machine gun before.” Dominil opened the magazine. Inside was a row of thirty silver bullets.

“I wouldn't have thought silver bullets would work in a gun like this.”

“Maybe that's why it jammed,” said Sarapen.

A volley of shots sounded from behind them, ending the discussion. They turned to fight but as another shot sounded from somewhere in front of them, they dived for cover in the nearest office.

“Hunters on both sides,” said Sarapen. “I'll deal with it.”

On the first floor, the three werewolves from Castle MacRinnalch found themselves struggling with the intensity of the fire. The explosion below had brought down part of the flooring, and flames now leaped from the foyer into the level above. Thick dark smoke swirled all around and the sprinklers were having little effect on the flames. The werewolves found themselves facing a door, which was blazing furiously, as were several pieces of old furniture. Eskandor, Captain of the Castle Guard, took in the situation calmly.

“We can't get through here. We need to go back.”

“We're meant to find the library and destroy it,” said Barra.

“I think the fire will take care of it,” said Eskandor. “We should go downstairs and see if there's another way up.”

Eskandor, Feargan and Barra turned round, heading back to the main staircase, stepping over the bodies of several werewolf hunters who'd been killed in the original explosion. As they reached the burning foyer, another explosion shook the walls as a fragment of the lava from the land of the Hainusta erupted, sending flaming embers in all directions. Part of the floor gave way, and Barra MacRinnalch fell through the gap. Eskandor and Feargan jumped after him. They tumbled into the basement to find themselves in the midst of a group of hunters who were crouched behind a makeshift barricade of tables and couches. The hunters scrambled to untangle themselves and turn their guns on the unexpected arrivals from above. Several shots were fired, but at that moment the door was
kicked open and Kalix and Decembrius burst into the room. Seeing three werewolves in a melee with a large group of hunters, they leaped over the barrier to attack. There was a mixture of screams, roars and gunshots, as werewolves and men tried desperately to see what they were doing, with smoke in their eyes, enemies at their throats and flames leaping into the room from the blazing corridor outside.

CHAPTER 164

“You can't follow me to the Maynista House,” cried the Empress. “Because the stone dwarves cursed you for your wickedness.”

“I was not wicked,” said the Fire Queen. “Just successful in battle. As I will be now.”

“Really?” Kabachetka's bleached-blonde hair streamed out on the wind as she rose in the air. “You still have not grasped that I now have more power than you.”

The Empress flung a dazzling bolt of white flame at the Fire Queen.

“And I have more important friends!” cried the Empress, flinging another bolt. “You are yesterday's fashionista, Malveria!”

With that the Empress flung the greatest fire bolt yet, dragging power from the Eternal Volcano through the dimensions and sending it against the Fire Queen in a blast that shone brighter than the sun. The Empress yelled in triumph as the Fire Queen was enveloped in flames. She was dismayed as the flames cleared to reveal Queen Malveria floating opposite her, a fire bolt in each hand and one at her feet. She had caught Kabachetka's bolts.

“More power?” said the Fire Queen. “Your power is to mine as your shoes are to mine. That is to say, very inferior.”

“You have cheated in the matter of shoes!” yelled the Empress. “There is sorcery on your extra-high heels!”

“Nonsense. I simply learned to walk in them properly. You will never be more fashionable than me, Kabachetka. You lack style.”

“You will lack style when Thrix dies!”

“Thrix is not going to die!” yelled the Fire Queen. But she felt a tremor of discomfort because she could sense the battle below. She could feel the
fire tearing through the Guild's building and she worried for Thrix's safety.

Empress Kabachetka, now completely enveloped in her Cloak of Protective Flame, raised her arm above her head. “Great Empress's Burning Spear,” she cried. A flaming spear appeared in her hand, and she flew toward the Fire Queen.

“Fire Queen's Sword of the Exploding Sun!” cried Malveria. A fiery sword appeared in her hand, and she raced to meet the Empress. As their weapons clashed there was a blinding light and a deafening roar that lit up the night and tore the clouds apart. People on the streets below looked up in awe at the blazing sky. No one one had ever seen a lightning storm like it. They gasped at the fury above, as the Queen of the Hiyasta and the Empress of the Hainusta, who had loathed each other for many years, finally came to grips with each other in combat.

The battle in the clouds couldn't be heard in the Guild's headquarters, but Thrix was aware of it. She could sense the elemental sorcery, and knew that the Empress and the Fire Queen were fighting above. Thrix mentally thanked Malveria for her help.

Thrix and Wallace had killed five members of the Guild on the top floor.

“What now?” yelled Wallace. “These offices are empty.”

“The rest must have gone downstairs.”

Smoke was billowing up the stairwell. Thrix heard a crashing noise below, as if some part of the structure had given way. She felt a pang of anxiety that she might be crushed by masonry before she'd had a chance to kill more hunters. Thrix's bloodlust was still very strong. She barely noticed her wounds as she ran down the stairs. Wallace ran beside her, but in their eagerness for action they were careless. They hurtled through the door into the second floor to find themselves confronted by two hunters who'd seen them coming and were ready. Their guns were raised. Each of them fired. Thrix felt her chest explode in pain as a silver bullet ploughed into her. The bullet missed her heart but the shock sent her plunging to the floor.

Wallace had also taken a bullet in the chest but his exceptional strength kept him on his feet. He staggered, then roared and charged at the hunters. Both fired again from only a few feet away. Wallace crashed into them, taking them down with a huge taloned paw round each of their throats. There was another shot, and a scream. Thrix dragged herself to
her feet. Blood was pouring down her chest. She grimaced in pain, and her werewolf tongue lolled over her teeth like a panting dog. Wallace and the two hunters lay still in a tangle. Thrix bent over them. The hunters were both dead from wounds to their throats. She turned Wallace over. He was dead too. The final bullet had gone straight into his heart. Blood seeped from the chest wound but he was no longer breathing.

CHAPTER 165

Kalix's jaws were fastened around a hunter's throat.

“He's dead,” said Decembrius.

Kalix kept hold, biting deeper.

“That won't make him any more dead.”

Kalix ignored him. Decembrius growled in frustration. There were four dead hunters in the room, but Barra, Deputy Captain of the Castle Guard, had also been killed in the melee. Eskandor and Feargan were both wounded. Kalix and Decembrius had so far escaped injury but Decembrius thought they might die in the fire anyway.

Suddenly, the door at the far end of the corridor was kicked in and a fusillade of shots rang out. The werewolves ducked down behind the remains of the hunters' barricade. Bullets slammed into the old wooden desks and tables, threatening to rip them apart.

“Retreat,” hissed Eskandor. “Keep down.”

Decembrius began to follow him but Kalix paid no attention. She leaped over the barricade, running straight toward the hunters.

“Oh for God's sake,” muttered Decembrius, and threw himself after her. Kalix sprinted with astonishing speed toward the hunters, leaping at them from a distance. Decembrius expected to see her torn apart by bullets, but she made it to the door and disappeared in a snarling whirlwind of limbs. By the time Decembrius arrived Kalix had killed one hunter and was attacking another while a third tried to fire at the werewolf without hitting his companions. He managed to get off one shot before Decembrius was on him. Decembrius killed him swiftly with his jaws. He turned angrily toward Kalix.

“Do you have to be so crazy all the time?”

Kalix was snuffling about over her two victims. Decembrius saw she was bleeding.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“I'm fine.”

Kalix had two bullet wounds in her arm, though she apparently hadn't noticed. There was a crash as a window shattered in the heat. Decembrius grabbed Kalix. “We have to get out of here, the whole corridor's about to go up in flames.”

Kalix looked longingly in the opposite direction. She wanted to run down the burning corridor, looking for more hunters. There was another loud crash as more of the ceiling gave way. Decembrius dragged Kalix back toward the foyer, catching up with Eskandor and Feargan, who were slowed by their wounds.

“More hunters,” growled Kalix. “I want more hunters.”

“Oh shut up,” muttered Decembrius.

Group Sixteen, the Avenaris Guild's most deadly band of hunters, were finding it difficult to join the battle. After finishing their guard duty, they'd withdrawn to temporary quarters in the basement. With so many hunters stationed inside, employees had been temporarily billeted all over the building. The first explosion brought down the roof outside their room. They were unable to reach the foyer and had to make a long detour toward the fire escape at the back of the building. They ran into the yard and halted next to the large gray recycling bins. Another figure appeared from the fire exit at the opposite end of the building.

“Stone!” It was John Carmichael.

“We couldn't get through,” said Stone. “We're heading for the hotel. We'll go out into the street and get back into our building through the front door.”

“I'll round up the reserves in the hotel,” said John Carmichael. He noticed that their headquarters, despite being consumed internally by flames and war, showed no sign of anything wrong on the outside, as if the “House That Could Not be Found” was unwilling to divulge any of its secrets to outsiders. There was a deafening explosion high above as lightning illuminated the sky. It was the most violent thunderstorm any of them had ever seen, but they had no time to contemplate nature. They ran across the yard, vaulted the low wall that separated them from the hotel, and hurried into the kitchens.