The Shadow Revolution

“It’ll kill us too unless we keep our wits.” Nick pulled his friend a step away. “That’s a werewolf, in case you didn’t know.”

 

 

Simon shrugged off the man’s hand. Where sensible men would have run, Simon strode toward the menacing shape. His leather shoes squished with each step in the garbage-strewn lane. He uttered a single word that was not English and brought his hands together, stiff-armed, in a sharp clap. Thunder crashed. The hulking beast was blasted back, slamming into the bricks behind it. The force left a deep crater in the wall.

 

With bricks clattering around it, the thing gathered its long limbs and stood, growling. The rank stench of rotting flesh washed over Simon, but he didn’t hesitate, moving closer to the shadowy beast.

 

Nick came up on the left, forcing the werewolf to choose between them. The older man slapped his palm onto a nearby wall and the flames on his hand transferred to the spot on the bricks where it stayed, offering light in the dark alley.

 

“Steady,” Nick breathed, casually placing his hands in his pockets.

 

Simon had already selected the spells he needed to cast.

 

The werewolf’s head swiveled as if debating which to strike first. Its frustration erupted in a violent roar that flecked spittle across the alley, striking both men. Neither flinched. The creature turned to Simon and stepped forward.

 

“Now,” Simon shouted, as the werewolf drew close.

 

Nick’s hands flew from his pockets and balls of fire shot from his palms. Two flaming orbs splashed against the werewolf’s massive chest. It howled in pain; its fur and flesh were seared in a wash of fire.

 

The enraged werewolf lunged. The snap of teeth came within a hairsbreadth of Simon’s face as he flung himself back. He kicked out, connecting with the snapping jaw, striking it to the side, spraying blood.

 

“Again!” Simon commanded, scrambling to his feet.

 

Nick let loose another barrage of fireballs, while Simon grabbed a thick wooden beam from the side of a building and smashed it over the head of the beast. Its howl of pain became a shout of fury.

 

It leapt and landed beside Simon. He swung the beam again and it splintered across the werewolf’s smoldering arm and chest, shattering into wood pulp. The creature towered over him, its arm lifted for a killing blow.

 

Nick grabbed the werewolf’s throat and his hand burst into blue-hot fire. With an agonized howl, a hairy arm swung wildly and slammed Nick’s shoulder, sending his limp body flying amidst the debris. Then the creature lunged after him.

 

Simon seized the beast’s hind leg and his fingers dug deep into the bristly fur. When he whispered a druidic phrase, the huge werewolf jerked to a halt. It glanced furiously over its shoulder, so Simon heaved it off its clawed feet and threw it to the side as if it were a spent rag. It crashed into a heap ten feet away.

 

The massive wolf head swiveled toward Simon for a moment but then opted for easier prey, turning again for Nick. Simon slapped his hands together. The deafening crack filled the alley and sent the beast careening into a spin. It dropped to all fours and clawed for purchase, leaving deep gouges in the cobblestones. Simon knelt and slammed his hand to the ground. A whispered word sent a wave of power shaking through his arm, as if it would snap the bones, before it passed into the earth. He wrenched his hand from the powerful grip of the ground, cutting off the power.

 

A cascading shock wave rumbled toward the werewolf. The monster tried to leap away but lost its footing and fell. The wave tore past and hit the side of a building. Bricks cracked and shifted. Then with a shudder, as the great beast was rising, the wall collapsed on top of it in a shower of stone and dust.

 

For a moment, Simon thought the fight over and moved toward Nick, but the sound of shifting rubble made Simon turn. The werewolf rose from the mound of stone, its fur a smear of blood and dust. It sprang with horrifying speed at Simon, knocking him down. The back of the man’s head struck something hard. He heard Nick shouting. The foul breath of the beast gagged him. He was inches from the salivating jaws.

 

A black shape fell from the heavens. There was a whistle of steel and the werewolf reared up with a shriek. Simon caught a glimpse of a man clad in black, wielding a long claymore one-handed. The beast clutched its side, black blood spewing between gnarled fingers. It cowered from the new figure, showing fear for the first time. Then it leapt away into the darkness.

 

“That’s right, you cur!” The man in black fired a heavy pistol that sounded like a cannon at the creature’s fleeting form. “You know me now, don’t you?”

 

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