Sweet Andrea

Mother Luna is calling. She whispers into me, urging me to turn. To abandon this Hunt, to abandon Andrea and all the anger that burns within me. Her voice is strong in my ears, and it costs me, and pains me, greatly to disobey her, but this must be done. Vengeance must be carried out. I’ll kill those bastards, every one of them. And when their bodies are lying on the floor, lifeless and torn apart, I will feast on their flesh, and will howl a cry of victory and sorrow for my Andrea, and a cry of shame and repentance to Amahan Iduth. But not before shall I return to her side. I keep my eyes fixed on her. Letting her shiny form pierce into my eyes. I remember my lost Andrea, the battles at the gas station and the warehouse. I remember Michael and all my kin that fell that day trying to protect our home and grounds from those motherfuckers that would pretend to usurp it. I feel the power we have gathered, all the packs united against a single enemy. But I also feel the grief in the hearts of all of us. The emptiness left in our souls when we saw our friends and brothers, our family, dead. Anger swells within me, fueled by the scrutinizing and scornful gaze of Mother Luna. She doesn’t want this, but can’t help but feed me the rage. I want to  revel in it, to embrace it and release my frustration here and now, but I have a sacred duty to fulfill. I take a deep breath. I will have my revenge, but won’t fail my alpha and pack. The time is near, only a couple of minutes left.

I return my senses to the now. The city’s life returns to full view. Below, in the street, I can see the many lights and the tiny dots that are the people. The silent murmur of the city life is everywhere. People muttering, car motors, dogs barking. A distant police siren reaches my ears. Above me, a sky so illuminated by artificial lights I can’t even sees the stars. Mother Luna is there, ever present. Watching me, judging me, instructing me. But I won’t listen to her. The blinking lights and silhouette of a plane snap me back again into reality. There’s no time to dream. Today we hunt.

I turn away from the window into the dark, spartan room that serves as my haven. The shotgun’s lying on the table, assembled and clean. Fully loaded. The knife is next to it, along with some extra cartridges. Everything’s ready, now I only have to wait for the call of the pack. It’s hard to stand by these moments of waiting. Too much things come to my mind, too much memories, too much truths. And there we go again, back into my mind. I know I’m falling for it again. I don’t want to, but I can’t help it. There are just so many things haunting me. Andrea, the Pure Ones, Michael, the weird old hag in the alley. And then I get to it. The real pain in my ass. I see the battle at the gas station. The pickup parking and everyone getting out, guns blazing. They had taken us by surprise. There was nothing we could do. Rage built within us all, and we didn’t try to control it. We let go, giving up to the pleasure of the Hunt. We fought as true warriors, and when the dust settled we had held our ground. They all lay dead. Every one of them. The van was upside down, with one of the doors lying on the other side of the street. We were gasping for air, some of us were wounded, but we were all pleased. All except for Andrea.
“Silver” was all she managed to gasp when I reached her. With her last breath she accused the crime. And then she was dead. My precious Andrea….I’ll never forget you….

Our howls ran all night long in her name, and by the morning the quest for vengeance began. These men weren’t alone. Rumors had been running throughout the city of a rogue pack that had just arrived. A pack of sinners who didn’t follow the way of the warrior. We hunted them and learned where they stayed, but they were too many for us to tackle alone. So the alphas met, and a communal attack was arranged for the next full moon….

My cel rings. It’s Joshua, the alpha from the Fou pack. The attack is about to begin. I won’t be in the main battle, I have a more sacred duty this time. I grab the knife and stuck it behind my pants. The shells and the shotgun go into the gym bag I carry with me, and off I am.

The abrupt change hits me as I cross the door. Going from the dark, abandoned and lonely building I use as my home and into the bustling, light filled city, so full of people, so full of life. Its something normal men will never notice, but something unique to me. I take a taxi and go to the outskirts of the city. The Eiffel Tower stands as an omnipresent obelisk to my right, all the way until I leave the city. Almost an hour later I’m hiding among some bushes. The golden lights of Paris shining seemingly just beyond my grasp. Paris…. Had once been my home, now it’s only my hunting ground. A never ending battlefield where we hunt our prey. A golden light jungle that we must defend constantly from other packs. This is one of them….They don’t know the mistake they did when they messed with the Marchands de la Mort. Particularly when they took my sweet Andrea from me. They’ll feel my ire now; tearing at their flesh, lashing at their muscles. Their bones will break under my jaw. And I shall know satisfaction in their blood.

Beneath us we could see our brothers sneaking in, hiding behind some crates. We kept moving, our strengthened bodies moving with unnatural grace among the iron structure that supported the ceiling. We were eager for battle. Specially me. For them, it was only a matter of sinners that had to be purged and soil that had to be defended. They could never understand my grief. Ire built within me as I remembered my sweet Andrea. I tried to control it, reminding myself that I’m fighting with a pack this time. I belong to them, and can’t charge alone…. Guns began blazing then. I looked down and saw my brethren fighting. Then Michael leapt, clothes tearing apart as he landed. I followed.

I landed in the middle of a group of sinners. They had their weapons ready, but where too surprised to use them. I grabbed one by the throat and with a quick jerk broke his neck. My other hand lashed at another one, and he went flying off into the air. He hit the truck they where loading the crates in, and fell limp to the ground. I couldn’t know if he was dead or not, but it didn’t matter. I was beyond reason. Rage ran through my veins, anger clouded my vision, and thirst for vengeance guided my moves. The remaining guy raised his fists in a feeble attempt to defend. My jaw broke through them as if they were nothing, and his head was soon in my mouth. I lashed and trashed about. Growling in anger I broke it from his body, rejoicing in the warm of his blood as it sprayed over me. Then I dropped him and turned looking for more.

Battle was at its peak now. The bastards had recovered from the surprise. Some were aiming shotguns, others were wielding axes. Made of silver, I noticed by the smell. Damn bastards, I’ll kill them for that. A pair of gaurus then jumped above the truck and charged at Michael and me. I met the attack head on, jaws open and claws forward. It was a strong one, but inexperienced, and he wasn’t fed by the same hunger I was. He hadn’t lost his mate, he wasn’t a warrior. He was only a sinner. That thought only made me angrier. I howled and sank my teeth in his flesh. He cried, but held on, and even managed to sink his on mine. It didn’t matter, though. He was mine. I pulled my arms and his body followed. Up towards my mouth, closer to make it easier on me. I let go and bite again. That time I got his throat. I felt a sharp pain and burn on my left side, but ignored it and kept on. A few seconds later he stopped thrashing, and his bite loosened. Just in time for me to feel something cut through my ribs. Something cold and sharp. An axe, I knew, a silver axe. It burned through my skin, sending ripples of pain throughout my body. I turned and grabbed the insolents face with my hand. My other went for his body. And I snapped him in two. Little bastard. Then I jumped at the one with the shotgun. He fell dead even before I got to do anything, just by the weight of my body over his.

The battle was won. Our cries of victory ran high as our enemies fled into the wilds. A short feast of victory. Then, the loses. Four of us had fallen. Michael included. Three axemen and a shotgun bastard had gotten on him as he fought the gauru. Michael was strong, but no one can stand that. He was our alpha, and a damn good one at that. Michael Rage-Eyes. The greatest among us. I had lost two of the closest persons to me now. There would be no pack anymore. Not without Michael and Andrea. We spent the night together, and by the morning disbanded. Each one in the search of a new family. That was our way. That, or killing to become a new alpha.

I spent the next day and night wandering the streets of Paris. I wasn’t looking for a new pack; I knew where to find those. I just wanted to be alone. To cut myself from this miserable world that had taken all that was dear to me. It took my life, and when I found a new one, it came and took it again. Lashing out with its cold fingers to take my new family from me. Andrea, my sweet Andrea….and Michael, brave Michael…Michael my friend…my brother….Rage built within me. Burning at my chest, threatening to rip it off. I felt anger at those bastards, I felt anger at myself for not defending my loved ones, and I felt anger at the world. At the whole world for destroying my life. Twice. Damn everyone…Damn everyone, I just wanted to kill them….to end this once and for all.

A low growl snaps me back. It is mine I notice. I let myself get carried away again. I can hear them a few feet away. They’re chanting. I slowly take off my shirt and take out my shotgun. The time has come. I feel the cold wind brush against my skin. I hear all the insects making their funny noises. How I loved those noises as a kid. How I loved to come out of Paris and into the wilds to relax, to have peace….There’s only strife now, only war. That’s our way, that’s our nature. I look up to Mother Luna. Amahan Iduth, barely visible beyond the trees canopies. How beautiful it is. The only beautiful thing I have left. I watch it, and as I ready myself for the coming conflict wonder if it’ll be the last time I’ll see it. Will this be the last time I feel the wind? The last time I hear the insects? That I feel the hard, cold soil beneath my feet? Will this be the last time I see golden lighted Paris? Beautiful Paris? I stand up and give a step forward. I hope it is.

The rats skittered away from me as I walked deeper into the garbage strewed alley. A purple neon sign shaped as an arrow flickered just above a gray metal door in the far wall. It was the back door of a local bar, I knew. A bar in which the Fou pack had certain interests.  I didn’t want to be there, to join another pack again. Not at that moment….but I had no choice. It was our way. The way of the pack. And besides, I needed the added muscle to avenge Andrea. I was well known in the city. Had even been the alpha of a pack once, so I doubted I would be rejected. Just a ritual combat or two and I’d be in. That’s what I hated. A part of me wanted to be rejected. To be able to find and excuse for being alone in the thought that I had tried to join, but had been turned down. It wouldn’t happen, though. I went passed a garbage bag pile and stopped. Something was out there. I could smell it. Another one like me, I could notice, but of a particular scent I couldn’t place. Or maybe I could have, if the overpowering smell of the garbage wasn’t invading every cell of my body. Then she appeared, right in front of me out of nothing. She was dressed in rags, with her unkept, matted, oily, white hair dangling wildly on her head. But her eyes showed the predatory cunning of our kind. She was just standing there, with a wooden knife on her hand. A fetish. So she was a shaman, probably, but of what pack I didn’t know. She took a step near me and I reacted naturally. I tensed myself, ready to jump at her. But suddenly something happened. The bitch had played her magic on me. I couldn’t move, all my body stood still, unnaturally so. The only movement the whore allowed me was for breathing and blinking. Damn hag….I wanted to kill her, no matter what pack she was with. Then she approached me and whispered into my ear. “Listen”, she told me, “and pay heed to what I tell you”.

I come into a clearing and see them. They’re formed into a circle around a tree stump with a copper basin on it. The basin’s throwing an eerie blue light, and they’re all chanting rhythmically. It’s a summoning. I can already see little spirit snake dragons flying around the basin. More are appearing. I know what they’re doing. It’s an Anger spirit. Like if our rage wasn’t enough….Fury builds within me as I see them. The same bastards that killed my Andrea…I can barely control myself. The spell isn’t finished, but I can already feel the beginning steps. Motherfuckers, I’ll use their weapon against them. I charge in, shotgun leading. Two fall dead instantly, and the basin set sailing off into the woods. Then I give up all rationality. My weapon falls to the ground and I leap at the nearest. I reach him just as my jaw forms, and crush his chest with my teeth. The remaining four gaurus jump at me. But I am a warrior, and they are barely more than cubs to me. A bite in the arm, a claw at the right of my chest, but I take hold of another one. I stubbornly keep my hold on him while I growl the pain away. Perhaps they weren’t as inexperienced as I thought…That doesn’t matter. It just fuels my rage even more. The fight goes on. I fight as a warrior, resisting all of their leaps and bites. And one by one they fall. In the end I’m the only one left standing. Wounded, probably mortally so, but standing. I look up at Mother Luna. Her scornful gaze looks back at me, but I don’t care. I don’t care about nothing. Nothing except my sweet Andrea. She would be proud of me now. I fought like a warrior. I fought for her honor, for her name. My vengeance is complete. But there’s more to my duty. I limp my way to the remains of my clothing and grab the knife I had.
I get to the bowl and pour with the knife my blood unto it. A light shines red as blood, and I hear a wailing of pain. The explosion knocks me back into a tree. And all goes black…

“The screaming will mark your victory” she told me. Weird old hag. We always howl in victory…She’s full of shit. But then she’s gone. Weird old hag. I just wanted to break her neck. To let loose all my anger in her for wasting my time. I turned back and went for the door. I had to make a good impression. No knocking, just bang in. The lights and music hit me as nothing has ever done. A saturation of the senses I’m not used to. The hypnotizing, repetitive beats of electronic music fill my ears till I feel they’ll explode. The smoke, alcohol, sweat and cheap perfume invade my nostrils, urging me to fall and vomit right where I’m standing. The lights and the enchanting, monotonous jumping of the people all around me lock my gaze, preventing me to turn from this spectacle of inhumanity. So much people dancing, shouting, and engaging in all sorts of decadent and hedonistic activities someone could think of. All in the name of fun…Bastards. This is what they have made of humanity? They don’t deserve it. I just wanted to kill them all. Then something hits me in the head. And all goes black….

I open my eyes, and as my view returns to focus remember all that had happened. They are still lying on the floor, all of them. Dead. The bowl is no more. Only a smoky column remains, barely visible as it rises into the night. I lower my gaze and see my wounds. I’m sitting on a pool of my own blood. The ritual had been too advanced. My wounds will not close. I’ll die…I will die. I close my eyes and think of that. How much time do I have left? I’ve wanted to die for so long…and now I think of how much life I have left….how pathetic…I remember my Andrea. I remember us running through the forest in pursuit of our prey. I remember us sharing our blood in the ritual of unification. I remember us consume our love in the spartan room I kept as my home. Those are good memories. I want to live them again, but know I can’t. I feel cold, and wet. I open my eyes again but my sight will not focus. I see everything blurry, only spots of color in front of me. I bring my hand forth…it’s only a white spot against the green ones of the trees. I try to move, but can’t feel my body. I try to mutter something, but I can’t. Then my eyes are too heavy. I see a black wolf running on the plains. A big wolf. Father Wolf. Following him are Michael and Andrea. Running as a pack in the wild wilderness of Pangea…I want to run with them. I can run with them. I’ve earned my right to do so. I rise and move towards them, but stop. Mother Luna is above me. Watching me. This is not real, I know. It’s some lucid dreaming before I die or some shit like that. Or maybe it’s a glimpse of my reward? I shudder. Maybe it’s a glimpse of what I will never have? I look up to Mother Luna, Amahan Iduth, and for the first time can’t read her… Andrea is next to me, then. My sweet Andrea. I can feel her warmth, smell her hair, hear her voice. I can feel her skin against mine. And then the wounds are all closed. It’s only us two now. We’re free to run together through the wilderness forever…

Then my gaze focuses again. It’s all a lie. A beautiful lie I want to believe in. Hell, I’ve earned the right to die believing in whatever I want, haven’t I? I have followed the way of the warrior all my life. I have earned this….But then I remember my Andrea. The real Andrea, the Andrea that believed in honor. In truth above all else. Like a warrior should. I look up at Mother Luna with the last strength I can muster. She’s there. Always present. Her scornful gaze is gone. She’s weeping for me, her dear cub. I weep back. There’s almost nothing now. I can’t feel the earth, can’t feel the blood beneath me. There’s no more cold, no more pain, there’s only peace. The words of the hag come back to me then.
“The screaming will mark your victory”

The screaming will mark my victory. I open my mouth to issue a last howl. A howl of victory and sorrow for my sweet Andrea, and a howl of shame and repentance to Amahan Iduth. I open my mouth, but no sound comes forth…There is no more sound, there is no more color, there is no more body. There is no howl, there is no victory, there is only the darkness.