Jamie stood, eyes locked on the abomination. There was always that awkward stare down, a moment monsters savored just before the kill. They fed on it—the thrill of watching their victim's fear, the blood boiling in anticipation, the rush that made them feel like they were slipping into some other realm, one far more exhilarating than the world they normally inhabited.
Jamie had been in this situation countless times before, but something felt different now. Beneath the tension, he heard a drum. A rhythmic pounding that was familiar, too familiar—the same drumbeat he had once marched to. It was the relentless, calculated beat that trained him, molding him into something other than human. Each step had been synchronized to that rhythm, stripping away his fragility and freedom until he had everything in common with that cold, mechanical pattern. The beat grew louder in his mind—first like glass shattering, then like a gunshot, and finally, an explosion.
The Skinwalker moved.
Her attack came fast, with the force of a hammer crashing down. Her fist smashed the table, splintering wood and sending bowls flying. It wasn't a long fall for her—she dropped from the ceiling like a daddy longlegs descending on prey, her grotesquely elongated limbs striking with terrifying precision. She was massive but moved like a predator far smaller, fast, and terrifyingly efficient, as if swatting away two insects.
The Skinwalker's screams echoed as her massive claws sliced through the air, missing by inches and cutting a large portrait clean in half. Jamie's instincts kicked in, his hand reaching for the nearest thing—the cauldron of stew. With a quick heave, he flung the boiling contents at her face. The scalding liquid hit its mark, and she shrieked in agony, staggering back.
"Of course! You play so unfairly!" she wailed, her voice disturbingly childish, like a petulant child throwing a tantrum.
Jamie grimaced, unnerved by the juvenile tone. He grabbed a steak knife from the table, leaped onto her back, and started stabbing into her flesh. But instead of fear or anger, she just laughed, her voice still sickeningly playful.
"Why not just transform? Come on now, don't you want to play?"
With an unnatural burst of strength, she flung herself backward, slamming Jamie against the wall, trying to crush him beneath her massive weight. He dropped to the floor with a thud, gasping for breath. Before he could fully regain his bearings, she kicked him with one of her monstrous legs, sending him flying across the room. He crashed into a pile of debris, knocking over shelves, furniture, and even an old suit of medieval armor. The weight buried him momentarily, but Jamie was used to taking hits far worse than this. He shook off the debris and quickly grabbed his pistol, tucked beneath his clothes.
He fired off several shots, each bullet hitting the Skinwalker in critical spots. She flinched, her movements jerky and confused. Blood oozed from her wounds, her face twisted in bewilderment.
Jamie smirked. "Of course... an amateur," he muttered under his breath. Then, louder, he taunted, "Come on, rookie. You never hesitate! Finish it. You never let your prey go!"
The Skinwalker's eyes flashed with anger. Blood trickled from one of them, but she grinned, her voice sickeningly sweet. "Aren't you just so sweet? Thank you for the advice."
In an instant, she moved faster than Jamie expected and slammed him into the wall. Her claws pinned him in place, and her voice dripped with malice. "But you deserve a slow death. I'll give it to you."
Through the pain, Jamie smiled. "Aren't you forgetting something?"
The Skinwalker's smile faltered as she heard a strange sound growing louder, a rumbling she couldn't quite place. She glanced around, her glowing yellow eyes scanning the room until they widened in sudden realization. The massive sound was coming from above—a grand piano.
The piano hurled through the air, crashing into the Skinwalker like a freight train. Jamie saw something he rarely witnessed in these creatures—pure, unfiltered fear. It was almost amusing how a creature so terrifying could suddenly be overwhelmed with panic and maybe a hint of curiosity, like, "Where the hell did they get a piano?"
The impact was brutal, the kind of force that looked like a car smashing into roadkill. Though the Skinwalker was still intact, she was knocked unconscious, her twisted form crumpled beneath the piano's weight. Jamie stood over her, shaking his head in disbelief.
"For the record," Jamie said, turning to Koda, "this is the most Looney Tunes s*** I've ever seen one in my life."
Koda emerged from the shadows, fully transformed into his werewolf form. He was shorter than Jamie by about a foot, standing at seven feet tall, though still towering by most standards. Where Jamie's fur was jet black, Koda's was a deep brown, almost like a grizzly bear. The two had similar features, but if you looked close enough, you could spot the differences—Koda's dark green eyes, a shorter tail, and the more earthy tones of his coat.
They'd joked before, calling Koda a "Werebear," half-jokingly convinced that if werebears existed, he'd probably be one of them.
Koda casually tossed a bottle of pills to Jamie. "Now, while she's out cold."
Jamie wasted no time. He unscrewed the lid and forced the pills down the Skinwalker's throat. As she began to stir, her eyes fluttered open, wide with confusion and alarm. She struggled beneath the weight of the piano, her limbs trembling as she tried—and failed—to lift it.
"My strength... where is it?" she gasped, desperation creeping into her voice.
Jamie smirked, pointing to the pills. "Trust me, you're not going anywhere."
Suddenly, the static of an intercom crackled to life, and Sasha's voice rang out from a nearby speaker. "What's going on? We heard a lot of noise."
Koda growled, his voice deep and distorted, sounding more like a gurgling demon than anything human. "I told you to keep quiet," he snapped, his transformed state making his already rough voice even more terrifying.
Panic spread through the voices on the other end of the intercom. "What the hell is that?" one of them shouted. "Did they get them?"
Jamie, a bit exasperated, leaned toward the speaker. "Relax, it's just my uncle. He's transformed. He's not going to sound... pleasant."
Sasha's voice came through again, this time more shaken. "He sounds worse than you, Jamie."
"Well," Jamie replied defensively, "we're not supposed to sound nice. No one would take us seriously if we sounded like friendly car salesmen." He could almost hear the eye roll on the other end.
Koda grumbled, "Keep your voices down. There could be more of them out there. Stay in the cellar, and don't come out unless Jamie or I pull you out."
The intercom went silent after a brief crackle of static.
The Skinwalker, still pinned beneath the piano, turned her head and gazed up at Koda with wide eyes. "The legends are true," she whispered, awe and resentment mixing in her voice. "I never thought I'd live to see one... another monster. The world fears you—the big, bad wolves, the werewolves. You get all the respect. But us? Skinwalkers... we're just jokes. Monsters no one takes seriously."
She whined, her once-threatening demeanor now replaced by bitter envy. "It's not fair."
Jamie studied her face carefully, the rage and defiance mingling with something else—fear, perhaps. She was young, barely in her late teens, and something about that stirred an uncomfortable feeling in his gut. Child soldier, the thought gnawed at him. He had been one himself, and he'd fought, even killed, child soldiers before. It was a bitter, ugly memory.
With a heavy sigh, Jamie glanced at Koda, who nodded, understanding the path Jamie was about to take. Jamie walked over to the stove, pulled out a knife, and began heating the blade over the flames. The metal grew hotter, glowing faintly, but Jamie kept his voice calm, almost conversational. "What's your name, kid?"
"Cassandra," she whimpered, her bravado slipping for a moment.
Jamie stared at the knife, the heat shimmering off it. "Cassandra, I'm not a good person. I've done things... terrible things. Things you can't even imagine. Whatever idea you have about bad people, trust me, none of them compare to what I've had to do. I can see it in your eyes—you were a good person once. You had a family, friends, school... a normal life." His voice softened, though it never lost its edge. "I never had that. Everything I've done, everything I am, it's all in the name of being a monster."
He paused, letting the weight of his words hang in the air. The blade in his hand was now searing hot. "There was another kid, not so different from you. He didn't think I could make him break. But now? Now, he spends the rest of his life in a loony bin, reliving what happened over and over in his head. You don't want that, Cassandra."
Jamie looked her dead in the eyes. "Tell me where they are. Do these pictures look familiar to you?"
Cassandra's eyes filled with tears, and she shook her head stubbornly. "I'm not telling you anything," she cried, her voice trembling.
Jamie's hand tightened around the knife, his expression unreadable.
Jamie's voice was a low growl, tinged with regret as he muttered, "God forgive me." With a swift motion, he hurled the hot knife. It embedded itself into Cassandra's eye socket, and her scream tore through the air as she kicked and writhed in agony. But just as quickly, Jamie yanked the blade out, blood dripping down its edge.
Crouching down to meet her tear-streaked face, Jamie spoke with a grim, detached tone. "I've got all the time in the world to find out where they are. You've got two hostages, and I need them. I'll do worse than this if I have to." He leaned closer, their eyes level. "I wish I cared, but I don't. I'm a monster, Cassandra, and there's another version of me—worse than this. No one's coming to save you. Not me, not Koda."
She sobbed uncontrollably, trembling as she choked out, "You're just going to kill me."
Koda's voice broke the tense silence, filled with sadness. "We're not going to kill you, Cassandra. You're already neutralized. Someone's coming to evacuate the survivors. If you cooperate, you'll be a prisoner, but alive." He softened his voice, trying to offer a sliver of hope.
Cassandra's eyes welled up with fresh tears, and she whimpered, "I don't want to be experimented on. I don't want to go back… to them." Her voice cracked as she continued, "The other Skinwalkers— they forced me into this. Turned me into a freak."
Jamie's transformation was sudden, the black fire surrounding him in an instant as he shifted into his werewolf form. Towering over her, his voice was deeper, more menacing. "My war is with Shiloh, not you. You don't have to be a casualty. She won't stop until I'm dead, and I won't stop until she is. Tell me where they are, and I'll let you go."
For a moment, Cassandra stopped crying, staring at him in disbelief. "Go? Where would I even go? I'm a monster—an abomination, even to other monsters. How am I supposed to live like this?"
Jamie's tone softened slightly. "I don't know, kid. But for the first time in your life, you won't be a slave. I can't promise your life will get better, but at least no one will force you to make it worse."
With a grunt, Jamie casually tossed the piano off her, the crash echoing around them. Cassandra sprang up like a spider, towering even over Jamie's werewolf form. She stared at the book, her eyes scanning the images of the church and the hunting lodge.
"I don't know the town," she admitted shakily. "But the church and the lodge… they look familiar. I think that's where the prisoners are."
Jamie's patience snapped. "Think you know, or don't!" he barked, his voice harsh and unforgiving. Cassandra fell to the ground, trembling as tears flowed freely again.
"Please… no more," she pleaded.
Koda's voice cut through the tension. "Jamie, that's enough!"
Jamie paused, his breath ragged as he tried to calm himself. "There are lives at stake, Koda," he snarled. "She's a soldier, and I don't care if she's a kid or not—she's an enemy. I'm treating her like one."
He turned to Koda, eyes blazing. "You've had me do worse than this. You taught me how to do this. So, who the hell are you to judge me now? I'm doing what we have to, like a soldier—not a hero. Just like you said."
Koda's voice was calm but firm as he said, "I never told you to be a monster."
Jamie burst into hysterical laughter. "Only... only the old Koda would say that. Koda responded "The old Koda is dead! you keep going like this, kid, you'll be worse than that."
Jamie suddenly shouted a familiar slogan, his voice dripping with madness. "I am not a man but an air monster who will burn everything the state commands! I will vanquish the foes of the United States and anyone who threatens the honor of Cheyenne!"
Koda snapped. In one swift motion, he grabbed Jamie and slammed him against the wall. His voice was a low, controlled growl. "Your name is Jamie. You're a good man. Better than this, better than me, better than your father. You don't have to be this, Jamie."
Jamie stared into Koda's eyes, fury and confusion warring inside him. "How the hell would I know? I've been like this my whole life! I've never found anyone, never found a purpose, so how the hell would I know what's better, what's right or wrong!"
Koda's expression softened, though his grip remained firm. "Have I kept secrets from you? Sure. But I've never lied to you. I've answered every question you've asked me. I promise you, kid, there's more than this. There's more than violence, more than pain, more than darkness. And you can't find it this way."
Jamie's eyes flashed with wildness, the madness threatening to consume him. "Yeah? What the hell are you gonna do about it? I won't stop! I can't stop! The drums, Koda… the drums—they'll take me. So what are you gonna do? How are you gonna stop me?"
Koda's voice softened further as he replied, "What I should've done a long time ago." And then, to Jamie's utter disbelief, Koda pulled him into a hug.
"I love you," Koda whispered.
It wasn't a punch, but it felt like one. The wind was knocked out of Jamie in a way that was... different. It wasn't painful this time. It was something else, something that made his chest tighten in a way he couldn't explain. A strange feeling washed over him, unfamiliar yet deeply comforting.
Koda let go, his eyes steady. "We'll figure it out, Jamie. We just have to take care of Shiloh, and we'll figure it out. Together."
Jamie didn't respond. He dropped to all fours, a whirlwind of emotions storming through his mind, and ran. Out of the castle and into the open, leaving nothing but a trail of dust in his wake.