Charles' knees buckled against each other as he rose from
the ground - his legs trembled against the freezing rain. The housemaster stood
beside Christina's unconscious body - there was an evil smirk on his face as he
watched the hunter rise from the ground. His playful pose complemented his
demeaning grin which further infuriated Charles but his face remained
expressionless.
"I have to say, this was a most fortuitous
encounter," The housemaster began. "That I will turn the very heart
of my greatest nemesis to my spawn or I should say, my bitch."
Charles bit his lower lip and stood to his full height. He
clutched his sides - almost with a shudder. He could feel a broken rib or two.
He had sustained more injuries than he had bargained for but he still had some
fight left in him.
"If I kill you before the virus spreads, she won't
become one of your cursed spawns," Charles raised a silver scimitar to the
housemaster. The housemaster wore his cruelest smile.
"I like to play - and, I will be dishonest if I say I
won't enjoy the look of despair after you lose terribly," The housemaster
grinned and suddenly disappeared from his position.
Charles upon seeing that, dove to his left. As soon as he
did that, the werewolf appeared at his initial position - His sea-blue eyes
glowed brightly as he looked at Charles who narrowly escaped his onslaught.
He opened his upper lip revealing a sinister grin.
He stretched his right arm. "My goal was never to
decapitate you, I just needed to get you within my range. You are going to die
now. Don't be worried about your bitch, this old dog will treat her
right."
As he spoke, gusts of air enveloped the area around the
housemaster and unfortunately for the hunter, he was also within the area. A
massive shockwave erupted but just as it got to Charles' position. Charles
produced a small mirror from his right arm and hastily pointed it in the
direction of the shockwave. A bright white light emanated from the mirror and
the shockwave was reflected at the housemaster.
The grin on the housemaster's face was replaced with
astonishment. He turned to evade the incoming assault but it was too late...
The shockwave connected against the creature and sent it sprawling backward.
Charles followed after the housemaster, he removed three daggers from his waist
and flung them toward him. The daggers pierced the man on his belly and two
shoulders.
Charles soon arrived before him and as fast as the hunter
could move, he connected several punches to its midsection. The man
involuntarily spat out blood as his body was driven backward. He tried to throw
Charles a left hook but the nimble hunter evaded - bending his entire body but
that was a flaw.
As the werewolf lifted his right leg -connecting his knee to
the hunter's stomach.
Charles maintained his calm expression and held on to the
creature's feet as a means of spreading the entire force to the rest of his
body but it was still injurious just not fatal. He spat out more blood. He
released himself and the force from the kick pushed him upward.
He stretched his arm and collected the daggers that were
hitched to the housemaster's shoulders. He pulled it out.
The housemaster groaned in audible pain but Charles crossed
his two arms - slashing the creature from both sides of his face. The creature
collapsed to the ground and he followed after. Charles felt his bones ache - he
was too weak to lift himself but he had to. With all that he had done, he was
sure the werewolf too was severely injured. Whosoever was going to win now
would be the one with the resolve to get up first.
Charles sucked in his breath and lifted his arm. The aching
sensation caused him to drop his arms almost immediately. The housemaster must
have understood the direness of the situation as he too began to move his body
frantically but just as Charles predicated, he too found it impossible to get
up. His body was in a terrible state to perform the most minimal of body
functions.
"Ahhh!" Charles gritted his teeth in anger and
raised his face from the ground, he inched his feet towards his stomach. With
every inch covered, his body trembled with more intense agony but he had to
endure this pain. If he wanted any shot at saving Christina, he had to kill the
housemaster. It was a delirious hope as he had relentlessly pursued the
werewolf for half a decade and he found it impossible to capture the werewolf
but now, the urgency had never been made clearer even though the past times had
the lives of his teammates and family on the line.
What was it about Christina Foreman that made him keep
fighting when he would have ideally performed a tactical retreat when the going
got tough?
What was it about her that he wanted to save her even at the
expense of his life? When his best friend fell into this same precarious state,
his next option was to eliminate him, or was it that he had grown during that
period? He couldn't tell but all that was important to him was the
extermination of the werewolf before him.
He had soon risen to his feet but his back was still hunched
as his body struggled with the immense pain that plagued it. The housemaster
was also on his feet but even though his body was ridiculed with pain, his face
wore a haughty smile.
"What is there to smile about?" Charles asked -
unsure of what to make about the smile.
"I got hit by my attack and I was affected. Does that
make me strong or weak?"
Charles couldn't help it but he found a smile on his face.
"Even though you are now a monster, you are still the same, aren't
you?"
Before the werewolf could say anything, a loud euphonious
voice rang in the atmosphere. The voice was familiar - it belonged to
Christina.
She ran towards the housemaster, she held a dagger. It was
the same dagger that Charles had initially thrown to the creature but was
stopped in the air.
Charles' face squeezed to reveal his displeasure but it was
too late. The dagger was poised to kill but as she got to the position of the
werewolf. The moonlight shone brightly on her, and the next sound that came
from her mouth was a blood-curdling scream!
Christina fell to the ground, her bones began to break and
contort in pain. Fur tore its way out of her skin and began to cover every
part. Her voluptuous body got flatter as the black hair on her body retracted
into their respective pores. When the scream was over, Christina was nothing
more but a silver-furred wolf.
"I guess you are too late," The housemaster
smiled. "Now, you have to kill the bitch."
Charles' heart began to beat loudly. The sound was almost
deafening to him - felt louder than Christina's screams. What was this he felt?
Was it fear?
No, it couldn't be. He had been in worse states than this
and yet, he always found a way out but this banging sensation in his chest. The
tempo got even louder and it rose higher. It was difficult to breathe.
He wasn't mistaken, this was fear.
It wasn't fear that he wouldn't make it out alive, it was
fear that he would have to terminate the damsel who had made him feel at peace
in this war-torn world.
Sweat fell off his forehead, he could feel the droplet
reaching to his lips.
The smile on the housemaster's face was fuller, he could
tell everything that was going on within the hunter's body and it amused him.
"I never knew you could feel something," he said
after a while. "Perhaps, if I knew this side of you. Things would have
been very much different."
Charles' face squeezed in confusion. What was the monster
before him talking about? He didn't understand but the tone of his words -
there was familiarity. Did the werewolf know who he was?
"What are you babbling about?" Charles asked
undauntedly.
"If you survive this fight," he smiled
dismissively. "Meet me at the witch's cove. There's so much you don't
know."
"Against a veteran beta wolf. Surely, you underestimate
me."
"You can lie to your fellow humans but not to me,"
The housemaster's smirk slowly transformed into a solemn expression. "I
know what you truly feel. And that emotion is your biggest opponent. I do hope
to see you at the witch's cove. Good night, my dear hunter."
The housemaster pulled out the dagger that was stuck in his
waist, he grimaced in pain as his blood splattered all over the leaves but it
was washed by the falling rain. He put on a hearty smile as he gazed upon the
moon. His injuries began to heal and within seconds, not even scars were at the
places where the injuries were.
He turned away from them, and leaped higher than any human
athletic constitution - he jumped to a height of seventy meters.
The silver-furred wolf turned at Charles. It let out a weak
howl and circled the human - its eyes following the hunter like a dog to a car.
Charles took in deep breaths - careful to maintain that all
his inhalations and exhalations were of a slow and steady rhythm. The wolf got
tired of the suspense and charged at the human.
Charles didn't flinch from his position, he maintained his
respiratory technique carefully trying to still the pandemonium that erupted in
his mind and heart but he was as observant as ever to his environment. He could
see it, the wolf would soon be upon him. His head would be gnawed off - if he
didn't make a move.
It would be so easy to just kill the wolf as he still had
his scimitar. He raised his scimitar. The wolf had leaped off the ground and
now, it would be impossible for it to change direction mid-air. He had the
advantage, all he needed to do was move his weapon to his right, and the
werewolf's head would come clean off.
The memory of his last interaction with Donna came into his
head. The wolf before him was a woman who was probably treated unfairly by her
sister for a while. She was in tears and had no one to call except a stranger -
she probably had no friends.
This was supposed to make it easy to exterminate her as no
one would miss her but a welling of pain arose deep within his heart - it was
pity.
Charles sharply changed the position of his scimitar so that
its hilt now faced the wolf. As quickly as possible, he fondled with one of the
crests on the hilt and a miniature prick emanated from a hole at the bottom of
the hilt.
The prick connected against the back of the werewolf's head
sending it crashing against the very ground.
Charles' heart was still beating as it was in a frenzy.
Despite his efforts to calm himself, he was still the same and the housemaster
was right - he couldn't kill her.
He just had to pray he wasn't making a mistake, she would
retain her wolf form so long the moon was out and now, she would have an
insatiable craving for human meat.
What the hell was wrong with him? Why didn't he just kill
her and get it over with? He thought deep within himself, every logical thought
pointed him to do what he thought was right but he just couldn't bring himself
to it. He wanted to protect her even though he couldn't find one logical reason
for that.
Several beams of light began to flash in his direction. None
of the light beams had been pointed at Christina or him but they were all over
the place.
"Why are people here?" He thought to himself but
then recalled the events that took place during the fight. Christina's scream
before she metamorphosed into a werewolf would have indeed piqued the attention
of many.
Charles took another step - his body was still weak from
exhaustion. He looked at the wolf and tried to lift it from the ground but to
his amazement, he fell against the wolf. Its soft fur warmed his face - even
though the knowledge of the individuals with flashlights would soon be upon his
location. There was also a strong possibility that Christina would awake soon
and she would probably gnaw his head off but at that moment, none of it
mattered.
He cared deeply for this woman whom he barely knew for an
hour. And if it was his fate to die at her hands, so be it.