So
normally I have my last excerpt on the day of its release (a couple our early,
but the day on the calendar is the day of release) but it seems this week this
works just as well so… here’s the last one
****
The sound of a gun going off was just that—a sound. Dan
was surprised the wanker hadn’t shot up into the sky, but then he would have
had at least the same amount of weapons training as Dan, so, really, he should
have more.
He didn’t
cringe away, but just stood there, even as he was sure they would shoot out one
of his legs. Even as he knew what was about to come, it wasn’t going to be good
for him.
“You ready,
Princess,” Marty sneered, his voice like acid, a bubble of craziness waiting to
spill onto others.
“I’m not
joining,” Dan said. His fingers had long since clicked on his phone and started
recording the whole conversation.
“Sure you’re
not.”
Yeah, like
Marty even wanted him there. The sarcasm coating Marty’s words was enough. The
look on his face, and the smirks from the other men around him, told Dan all he
needed to know.
He was going to
be hunted, and when they caught him, they were going to rip him apart piece by
piece, only giving him the relief of death when he spilled all his grandma’s
secrets—or gave them the key to the door.
The men
laughed. Every fucking one of them laughed as if they were in on a joke Dan
wasn’t aware of, which was utter bullshit, but who was he to quibble. The
chorus rang around the dead land as if it was supposed to be there.
Dan stood
still, trying to absorb the shiver wanting to run through his body, but he
couldn’t stop every single hair rising up along the back of his neck. He really
didn’t want to be in this position. Didn’t want to be seen running away from
the scary men, but facts were facts and he was about to do just that.
They were all
relaxed, at least the seven he could see. It had surprised Dan to see so few of
Marty’s men. It upset him slightly to see that Craig obviously wasn’t a part of
the living world anymore, since he wasn’t among them, but that was life as a
hunter, and he sure wouldn’t be shedding tears for him, at least not here.
Marty stepped
forward, and Dan had to lock his knees in order to keep himself from taking one
step back. He was going to have to force himself to run, and there was no way
in fucking hell they would see him as any more of a coward if he flinched.
Marty was a
stocky man, though thick in more ways than one. He made a person fear him as
strongly as they’d respect him, and if wasn’t for that craziness in his eyes,
he might have gotten Dan among his ranks, rather than having to run after him
like the man was about to do.
Dan almost
smiled, especially when Marty cocked a hip and rested his shotgun barrel on his
shoulder like some fucking dramatic cowboy. His smile was a little less mean
and a lot about trying to fool an idiot he was giving it to, or wanting to get
Dan to drop his trousers and offer up his arsehole.
He tried not to
roll his eyes as he noted the relaxed position of all the men. Though Dan knew
they were alert, he just had to hope they were all about to underestimate him,
because he’d really like to get out of this cemetery without a bullet in his
back.
Marty opened
his mouth, words spewing from its depths, but Dan had long since stopped
listening. He shifted his weight just slightly before he took off, judging the
distance and the route on a sprint from the minute details as he came across
them and the memory of how he was getting out of there when he’d watched the
same men he was running from carrying his gran to her place in the ground.
Shouts ran out
behind him as well as those from a few close by that probably would have hit
him if he hadn’t made a split second decision to turn when he had.
It seemed they
didn’t want him dead, or all their
sharp shooters were dead, which Dan couldn’t seem to make himself feel too bad
about, since they were shooting at him.
He made it to
the trees that stood on two sides of the church, which was another reason his
gran had liked the place. It was private, old and an awesome place to haunt if
she managed to save her soul from wherever it was destined to go.
The tree’s coverage
didn’t stop him, but only made Dan a little more careful where he stood and
what he touched. The group of men behind him were trained hunters, and they
tracked things much scarier than Dan, for a lot longer than he’d been alive.
Tree limbs
slapped at his face and pulled at his shirt as he made his way through the
bush. The natural rubbish softened his footsteps and made him sluggish as he
pushed himself farther and faster than he’d ever gone before.
Dan wasn’t a
hunter. His gran had never seen the point in him being one for many reasons,
but mostly because she thought they were all brain dead killers. She’d never
had a problem with leaving Dan in their hands, but she’d never been shy in
voicing her opinion. What had come out of her mouth hadn’t been pleasant, and
that was before the men had left the house.
Jumping over a
fallen log, Dan’s hand settled only slightly on a smooth part as he cleared it,
then let himself fall onto the ground.
His body up close, his back pressed back against the trunk, he tried to take in
deep breaths without making a sound.
Sweat trickled
down his back, sticking the hair against his neck. Fear turned it ice cold as
he listened to what was happening around him, waiting for the laughs, the hands
that were sure to grab him at any moment.
His mind sank
into his spot on the ground, a blank bit of nothing that allowed him to think
and see with a clarity that came from years of meditation. However, he was sure
most of them found solace through that method, not as a kid trying not to
scream and cry as his fear of dark, tight, spots clouded around him. It hadn’t
helped that his gran’s favourite punishment had been a shallow cupboard under
the stairs.
Dan felt the
earth vibrations under his arse. The world seemed to open up under his eyelids,
telling him things he needed to know, protecting him in ways he’d long since
considered his superpower—so he was probably a little young when it came to
him. He’d been scared enough to not change those thoughts. The ability to be
able to judge and hear and feel things in a deeper level had kept him safe and
sane as he cleaned out the stove for the witch in the gingerbread house.
The sad thing
in that reference was how true it had been. His gran was witch-like, thin,
rude, holding a cigarette between her snarled lips. She had things that made
people put smiles on their faces and deal with the hag just for a cryptic
message that wasn’t complete only because she wanted to hold that power over
them.
Dan shook his
head. He didn’t need to be thinking about this, at any time, but definitely not
now. Not when there were bigger and worse problems facing him than his past
Breathing in,
Dan let his head fall back onto the log. He didn’t feel anything from around
him, not a word or sound. So had they left, not bothered with him because he’d
gone into the woods at night?
No. That didn’t
sound right. It wasn’t as if this wasn’t their hunting ground, and hell,
werewolves wouldn’t even be here for another night. So, why weren’t the hunters
there? Had they given up on him?
Dan shook his
head. That didn’t sound right either…
It was more
likely they had a tracker on him, or that they knew something he didn’t, which
would be true since he didn’t know a whole heap, except that he only had a key
in his pocket and knowledge of where he was going from vague memories from
childhood and maps of the internet.
A branch
snapped behind him, making Dan’s heart leap into his throat. So, they were there. If they were that good, he
had no fucking hope of escaping them—not by hiding.
Shit.
Shit. Shit… Fucking shit!
Dan’s finger
ran into his hair, clutching at the thin strands and pulling in quick, sharp
jabs. The pain soothed him in a way he wished it didn’t, but the knowledge that
it still affected him made him feel human, or maybe it was more. It connected
him to the world where he didn’t spend most of his time trying to look and act
normal as his guts were bleeding onto the streets.
He needed to
get out of there. That was clear to him before his mind found the need to tell
him the fact. Of course, he needed to leave the fucking bush. He needed to get
across town and into an old pine farmyard. At least in there, he’d have an
advantage. He’d grown up learning the trees and his direction with them. His
gran dumped him in the middle of a woods, blindfolded, sometimes even
unconscious, with the knowledge that the only way he’d survive was if he got
himself home. His gran sure as hell wasn’t going to come looking, or report his
arse for others to come find him.
Dan had slowly
but surely learnt the layout of most of the pine tree yards. It ended up being
a simple way of the farmers planting a new set of trees that would have him
knowing where he was, or how old those trees were. It had only taken about six
times being dumped in them for him to realise he needed to pay close attention
to what was happening with those trees around town.
Shifting
himself around, Dan took a deep breath, trying to centre himself as best he
could before starting on the slow, agonising, journey, and that was just to the
other side of this section of bush.
The Rub of My Werewolf by
Bronwyn Heeley
Publishing on the 15th of
June 2014
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