For a while nothing happens. No one moves. No sound comes from outside. Then...
"Sweep the building," Blackwell says, voice low, but still loud enough to carry. "Kill any adults you find. Bring the children to me. "
"Of course sir," a new voice says. That voice is echoed a dozen times.
"Of course sir."
"Of course sir."
"Of course sir."
"Of course sir."
"Holy shit," Marco whispers. "How many of them are there?"
As if to answer his question, a new howl cuts through the air. With it comes a fresh mental image of the scene outside. Blackwell isn't alone anymore. At least twenty vampires are approaching the building.
"Fuck," Marco whispers. "Fuck fuck fuck."
Hold. the Alpha howls.
The front door opens with its customary squeal of hinges. You don't hear any footsteps. Of course you don't. The creeps are probably floating down the hallway. You do smell them though. Rot, death, and decay. The tell-tale stink of vampires.
"Where did Minjo take the kids?" Elma whispers.
"Into the kitchen pantry," Ed answers. "They barricaded the doors."
"The pantry?" Elma glances at the kitchen doorway on the other end of the room. "There's no way out from there."
"Quiet," the Alpha growls.
You lean against the wall, eyes pinned on the living room door. You see the doorknob start to turn.
The pack goes deathly still.
Next
The first vampire that steps through the door isn't Blackwell. It's a small, middle aged woman in a flowery pink night dress, curlers in her hair and slippers on her feet. The sweet grandma vibe is ruined somewhat by her empty gaping smile and the huge silver-coated machete clasped firmly in her fist.
She doesn't seem to notice the two dozen werewolves crouched as still and silent as furniture in the darkness. Instead, her attention locks onto the kitchen door across the room.
She takes one step forward.
Now, the Alpha howls.
The pack reacts as one. A quick flurry of movement, and the vampire is headless on the floor. Vicky catches the machete before it can smack into the ground. You smell burning as her skin brushes the silver, but she doesn't flinch.
You focus your attention back on the door.
It remains slightly ajar. You hear a few more doors open and close. Some odd thumbs. Then another vampire walks in. This one is dealt with as quickly as the first.
It's almost comically easy. If they keep coming single file like this then your pack will kill them all before the moon even rises.
But then...
Next
"They're in there, sir."
"Yes, and they're awake too." Blackwell's voice sounds from the hallway. "How... disappointing."
The pack shifts, restless and nervous.
hunthunthunthunthunthunt
clawclawclawclawclaw
killkillkillkillkillkill
HOLD.
"Well, I suppose congratulations are in order." Blackwell calls out. "You fooled me. I'm here. So... what are you going to do about it? Rip me limb from limb? Paint the streets red with my blood?" The tone of his voice tells you how unlikely he thinks that outcome is.
The pack glance at each other.
trap?trap?trap?trap?trap?trap?
Blackwell sighs. "I'm too old for these sorts of games. Are you dogs going to come out? Or are you going to keep skulking in the dark?"
No one says anything.
A world weary sigh. "Have it your way, werewolves. Fetch."
Something flies into the room. It's small, dark, and leaves a weird smell in the air. Burnt oil, cheap metal, and gunp—You realise what it is.
"Everyone get d—!"
Next
The explosion shreds the night air. You feel light, heat, and pain as debris slices into the arm you brought up to shield your face. Your ears are ringing, the voices of your pack sound distant and distorted.
Howls, though, are crystal clear.
FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK
WHAT?WHAT?WHAT?WHAT?WHAT?
KILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILL
NOW!
You blink your eyes back into focus just in time to see a stream of vampires pour in the open door. Addie is the first to meet them, her body a hideous amalgamation of human and wolf. Nikolas is right behind, mouth gaping into a wide, hungry maw. The Alpha slams into a third, his howls a barrage of rage.
The shouts, screams, and animalistic roars start to trickle into your brain as the two groups clash. You see vampires torn to pieces and wolves scream as they're touched with silver. All of it lit by flaming pieces of debris.
Vicky is at your side, shaking your shoulder, her face spotted with blood.
"Gideon Mercer! Gideon Mercer!"
"I'm okay," you try to say. Your voice doesn't sound right.
"What's—"
And then you see him.
Blackwell steps carefully into the room, almost as if he's worried he might scuff his shiny new shoes. A small, skinny vampire stands at his side, wobbling under the weight of several guns and at least half a dozen grenades.
You move with your pack and add your voice to the chorus of howls.
A vampire staggers towards you, her eyes glassy, and smile wide. You don't let yourself focus on that though. Instead you keep your gaze locked onto the silver machete clasped in her fist.
She swings at you in a wide, clumsy chop. You dodge around it, grab the arm holding the weapon and, with a slash of your claws, remove it.
Rotting blood splashes down onto the floor, along with the still writhing limb. The vampire looks at the stump on her shoulder as if confused by what she's seeing.
"Oh dear."
That's the only warning you get before the vampire hurls herself at you. The impact drives you back against one of your packmates. Cold, dead fingers claw at your throat, fangs flash in that wide, ugly smile.
"Fuck," you snarl and grab the fallen machete. With one swing you drive the blade halfway through the vampire's neck. She doesn't seem to notice. The next swing takes the head off.
You stagger to your feet as the body begins to rot. Around you the battle is in full swing. You see vampires getting ripped to shreds, and werewolves screaming as silver slices through their fur.
But, before you can even finish that thought, something hits into you. You're knocked off your feet and slam into the ground.
Fuck that hurt.
You hug your side and look up to see Blackwell, smirking down at you. "Did you think I'd forgotten about you, dog? You who survived the river."
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