Alick
Workers ran out of the building as soon as Forge started throwing barrels. A shadow man emerged from the dark recesses of the upper floor and joined his boss, tossing kegs at the men trying to climb the narrow wooden ladder on the other side. The Wolves were temporarily stymied until they either found another way to the upper level or the two men ran out of items to throw.
The containers ruptured whenever they hit something more solid and soon expensive alcohol sloshed along the floor and dripped over carpets and furniture. Precariously stacked items toppled over when hit by stray barrels. Voices shouted outside about trouble within and someone ran for the magistrate. Shame the Runners had no jurisdiction over Unnaturals. The Wolves would end Forge their own way, just as they had done to the soul eater, Hoth.
Alick had thought Isabel safe behind him, until he saw her fly upward from the corner of his eye. The treacherous bastard proved he had no honour. He’d jumped down, grabbed her, and leapt back to the upper floor as though she weighed little more than a doll.
Alick was keeping a mental note of reasons for spanking Isabel, and to the growing list he added getting herself mauled by Forge. Not that the man would escape—they had him surrounded from below and he either needed to descend the stairs or sprout wings. Actually, he might just do that—Alick had heard rumours of vampyres turning themselves into bats, and Forge had demonstrated he could jump large distances.
As Alick clambered over kegs and barrels of various sizes, he tried to keep his heart from clawing its way up his throat with worry. He kept telling himself Isabel was clever and resourceful. If anyone could squirm away from Forge, it was her. But the worry started to win the internal argument. An undead bastard had his mate in its clutches and fear would drive him insane. There was no use shooting at Forge; he was already dead and a stray shot could kill Isabel.
Then Forge pressed a pistol to Isabel's temple, and Alick nearly blacked out as a cold fire flooded his body. In such situations, Alick found the battle rage would overtake him. Berserker, they called it. Family legend told of an intertwining of Viking and Highland blood centuries ago and it manifested in a warrior once every generation. When he had taken the lycanthrope's bite over two years earlier, the wolf and warrior had battled for dominance inside him. He thought the change would tear in him two, but instead a calm settled though him.
He embraced both aspects of himself and brought them together.
Allies and enemies learned not to stand in the way of a berserker wolf. No one could understand the pain that lanced through his body when the Viking wave crashed over him and the feral wolf emerged. The world around would dim as he saw only his opponent, and the blood would pound in his ears and block out all other noise. At the same time his body shook with hot sweats and only tearing apart an enemy would ease the screaming inside his head.
This time was different.
This time he needed to protect his mate, and her safety was paramount.
His entire focus stayed on Isabel yet he kept his peripheral awareness of his surroundings and the other men around him. The berserker rage still flowed over his limbs and through his veins, but this time it manifested as cold anger. For the first time he stayed in control of his senses and mind, his instincts not wanting to inadvertently hurt Isabel. He could channel his fighting fury and would direct it at one very particular target: Forge.
When the vampyre bit into Isabel's neck, Alick's wolf nearly went insane with fury. The beast almost tore itself in half, needing to lunge at the creature and free its mate. But it couldn't move with the pistol pressed to her head. An impotent whimper erupted from the wolf as Isabel cried in pain.
Hamish was likewise frozen on the ladder on the other side of the warehouse. Neither man wanted to advance and risk the woman's life. Ewan had disappeared back below, his form a mere whisper as he moved amongst stacked boxes and crates, searching for something.
Alick intended to kill the vampyre feasting on Isabel. He visualised how he would rip Forge's throat out and then tunnel through his torso to reach his liver. Watching the man violate his wife and take her blood against her will, he further embellished his plan. He intended to peel the undead creature open first. Hopefully Forge really was immortal and wouldn't die on him. Then Alick was going to slice every single vein in the traitor's body open. He would search for, and return, every droplet of Isabel's blood that he’d stolen.
The auburn wolf lifted a front paw and crept a step higher as Forge drank and then stopped abruptly. He pushed Isabel away, a frown on his face. She shook on unsteady legs and pressed a hand to the wound on her neck as she mocked him for drinking his particular brand of poison.
They had all laced their tea with vervain, just in case he got bitey. The only problem was none of them knew what the herb did to a vampyre. Aster said it was supposed to weaken them, and could be fatal in a high enough dosage. But everything was pure conjecture until they had an actual vampyre to experiment on.
He dared another paw forward as Forge touched a fingertip to his fang and then pulled it away, staring at the smear of Isabel's blood. Alick hoped he choked on it. The hand holding the pistol wavered. Was the vervain taking effect already? His opportunity to strike would soon present himself, just as soon as Isabel moved a little further out of range.
He stole another step and gathered himself, ready to leap the rest of the distance and knock the weapon from Forge's hand. Across the wide floor, Hamish shifted form and his wolf negotiated the ladder, ready to pounce at his target. The shadow man kept raining kegs at him, trying to knock the captain backwards, but his wolf just shouldered them out of the way.
While events unfolded in the second between one heartbeat and another, it still seemed to take forever. Alick watched as Isabel picked up the lantern and swung it. Glass shattered against Forge and tinkled to the floor. Lit rapeseed oil coated his chest and dripped to the boards. At which point Alick remembered all the alcohol sloshing around their feet.
He bunched his hind legs to jump just as the alcohol ignited. Flames erupted as the fire greedily devoured first the expensive liquor and then reached out for the soaked furniture. A curtain of fire shot upward, directly in front of Alick, and he jumped right through it. Hot air scorched his fur as he dove through the wall of fire. His front paws caught Forge square in the chest and knocked him to the ground.
Alick pressed all his wolf weight onto Forge, pinning him to the ground. His body smothered the fire that was chewing through Forge's jacket and waistcoat. Then he wrapped his jaws around the traitor's wrist and shook the pistol loose. The weapon skidded away, toward Isabel. His mate bent down and picked it up, pointing the barrel at the fighting creatures but unable to focus on one form.
Across the floor, Hamish leapt on the shadow man, the creature trying to dissolve amongst rapidly disappearing shadows. Hamish dragged him toward the light, then both of them tumbled over the side and dropped to the floor below. Their bodies crashed into the stack of chairs.
Alick's teeth closed over the vampyre's throat and he exerted pressure to close his jaws. His canines tore into dead flesh and released sluggish blood. It flowed stale and rotten through the wolf's mouth and he nearly gagged on the foul taste. Forge yelled, his Adam's apple bobbing against the lupine's tongue. Sharp nails bit into his fur as the man lashed out, trying to dig into the wolf's eye sockets.
A smack to the side of his head made the wolf's ears ring and pain burst over one side of his face. He shook his head, trying to clear his hearing and Forge scrabbled free. He held a flaming book in his hand, and he struck Alick with it again as he found his feet. Despite the vervain he had ingested, the vampyre was still incredibly strong and the second blow sent Alick lurching to one side. With a growl, he rose on all fours.
Isabel now had a clear shot and she discharged the pistol, hitting Forge smack in the middle of his chest. The impact sent him staggering backwards, the wall behind him visible through the small hole in his torso.
"You cannot kill me, but I'm very certain wolves can die." Forge stood. Flesh hung in ribbons from around his torn throat and blood dripped from the wound in his chest, but still the man laughed. "I happen to know what is stored directly below us." He threw up his hands, his fingers splayed wide, and mouthed one word: Boom.
Too late Alick realised what Forge referred to. Merchant ships needed protection against pirates and the French. As such they were still equipped with cannons, just not as many as a naval vessel. Cannons needed gunpowder to launch their balls, and the warehouse kept a small store to restock incoming ships.
In their quick survey of the warehouse, his gaze had passed over the explosive store. One small keg looked much like another, but powder kegs were smaller again than the ones containing brandy. They were standing above Browning and Sons’ gun powder supply, and fire was about to engulf it.
"Isabel!" Alick yelled for his wife as an explosion rocketed upward from below and tore away the floorboards. The blast threw him backwards toward the edge of the floor. He grabbed the railing to halt his tumble to the ground and hauled himself back up.
Burning timbers rained down and spread the fire further. A hole appeared in the roof and thick smoke spiralled up and out. The entire warehouse was now swimming in flames. Forge had vanished and so had Isabel. She had been less than ten feet away from him, and now she was a world apart. With the smoke trying to escape and the burning stores, he had to squint to see anything around him. The floor under Alick's feet was disappearing, revealing fiery pits of Hell beneath. And somewhere, on the other side of the chasm, was Isabel.
Dear God, where was she?
"Isabel, you better be alive," Alick whispered as the fire kept spreading. It was insatiable, consuming everything in its path. He stood alone in a storm of sparks and flashes of orange and red. Smoke clawed down his throat and he coughed, trying to draw fresh air into his lungs.
He would not leave her to die here. She would still be there, on the other side, inside the inferno. He just had to reach her.
His wolf was vaguely aware of his leader below, herding workers away with the help of the lieutenant. They would see the area evacuated and someone would notify the closest brigade to bring the blaze under control. Alick only had one task—find Isabel.
The floor shook and rolled under his feet like a sinking ship as the fire ate away the support beams holding the floor, and the roof, upright. Flaming roof tiles fell from above, setting more fires wherever they landed. Movement beyond the fire caught his attention. Tall and slender, it was either Forge or Isabel.
He closed his eyes for a moment and touched the ancient strength swirling inside him. Neither God nor the fires of Hell would snatch away the woman he loved. With the berserker power linked with his lycanthrope strength, he drew a deep breath of hot air into his lungs. This was going to hurt. A lot.
Confident that he could battle both nature and Lord, Alick shifted form and leapt into the maelstrom that had sprung up within the confines of the warehouse. Fire licked his fur and tried to burrow deeper to soft flesh. He jumped blind, unable to see how much floor remained on the other side. His front paws hit the ground but then his hind legs found nothing but air.
His body dropped backward, his claws scrabbling to find purchase on the splintered timbers. He hauled himself upward and onto the remaining floor. This side was more damaged, and only a foot of boards remained jutting out from the wall. His head swung back and forth, looking for any sign of Isabel. A crash made him jump sideways as a pile of crates toppled to one side, their contents raining to the pit below.
Isabel clung to a broken joist, dangling over the leaping fire as she tried to lever her body back onto the smouldering timbers. Alick quickly figured out how to get to her without dropping them both straight into the pyre. He edged around the growing hole until he was only a foot from where she struggled.
Her gaze locked onto him and he read the determination to hang on. He changed back to human and laid himself flat along the floor, ignoring the splinters and sparks that dug into his naked body. He stretched as far as he could and grabbed her flailing hand. He gritted his teeth and directed a partial shift to his feet, letting claws dig into the softening timbers for purchase and to anchor himself. Then he grabbed her other hand and, inch by inch, hauled her up.
Once her chest cleared the floor, she wriggled and squirmed to lever the rest of her body up next to Alick.
"I have you, Izzy-Cat," he said.
With a relieved sob, she wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his chest. "Wonderful. At least we can burn to death together."
"No, we won't." Although it was looking bleak. Already it was a moonless night in the warehouse. Thick black smoke swirled all around them, punctuated only by arcs of flame as the fire reached for something else to consume. Bright sparks flared above them and then drifted down.
They couldn't go down—already heat from below scorched the underside of the remaining upper floor and soon it would eat through the timbers and drop them to their deaths. They couldn't go up, since there was nothing to climb and neither of them could fly like Forge.
That only left sideways.
The end of the warehouse had an opening where a beam with a pulley jutted out. A rope could be lowered to a ship below and cargo nets lifted directly from the hold up to the top storage area. As the fire ate the supporting timbers, the roof had partially collapsed and dropped the beam. It now teetered on the remains of the floor and the other end ran out over the harbour below. Luckily there was no ship below today, just frigid autumn water.
It wasn't the best plan in the world, but it might just work.
He brushed a kiss against her sooty cheek. "You know how I always say I will never let you fall?"
She raised a tear-filled gaze. "Yes."
"This doesn't count."
She frowned but before she could ask her question, he stood up and lifted her into his arms.
"Hold on," he said. Then he focused his gaze on the rapidly disappearing opening and ran. He trusted to his wolf senses as he ran along the narrow walkway with Isabel in his arms. The beam shifted and moved under his feet. He hunched over to protect her from the flaming debris that scorched his back. After this he would never have hairy shoulders again. As he reached the gaping access-way, he kept running out over the beam. As he approached the end, he let his wolf take over and jumped, pushing off as hard as his legs could muster. At the same time, he curled himself around Isabel.
The wolf plunged through the air and toward the water. He rolled, keeping Isabel tucked by his belly, and his back landed on the hard water first, knocking the air from his lungs. They dropped through the cold water, both of them sinking quickly. Then with a kick he propelled them both back toward the murky surface.
Isabel moved to his back, her arms around his neck. With his mate safe behind him, Alick paddled toward the shore, away from the blazing warehouse.