The Cabin Is Always Hungry (A Dungeon Core Horror Slasher)

LAST RESORT
Part 24

SCENARIO 4
1:20 AM
6 Hours Until Dawn
6 Delvers remaining…

Sheila's hand slipped on the cold iron of the spiral banister, but she didn't dare slow down. Kevin thundered behind her, both of them half-tripping down the winding stairs to safety below.

At the bottom, Sheila cried out. "Nina, where are you?"

But she was nowhere in sight, busy trying to escape her own encounter with the werewolf. Sheila didn't want to look at Daryl's head on the floor.

Kevin yanked her shoulder, already pulling her away from the direction Nina had gone. "It's too late for her."

"She might be in trouble!"

"She is in trouble," he snapped. "So are we. You want to be werewolf chow or vamp chow?"

Sheila's eyes burned. "What kind of question is that?! Neither!"

"Then move. While they're busy tearing them apart."

"But what about the other—"

"Don't." He cut her off, jaw clenched. He didn't want to say it out loud, didn't want to picture how many more freaks were circling the manor like hyenas. His brain kept spitting it back at him anyway. Oh, God, this is a literal nightmare! He screamed inside his head.

Hearing the werewolves howling from afar, they shoved through a narrow staff door, hinges shrieking as they opened it. A forgotten service stair waited before them, plunging into the shadows.

Sheila froze on the threshold. "Are you sure?"

"No," Kevin said. "And I don't give a shit. Let's see where this goes."

They took it two, three steps at a time, the air getting colder as they dropped closer to the ground floor.

I drifted my many-eyes upward to the top of the tower.

Wendy pulled herself off Daryl's body, her mouth painted slick red. The euphoria hit her hard, like a drug cut into her veins. Her chest rose and fell in frantic, shallow breaths as though she'd just climaxed. Her eyes—once human a few moments ago—burned like twin crimson embers now, her face shining with gore.

She staggered upright like a marionette, giggling softly in this strange, high-pitched, broken melody. She tilted her head down at Daryl's corpse as if she was missing something. Then she bent low, scooped Daryl's ruined body into her arms as if he weighed nothing, and began to sway. One-two-three. One-two-three. Her bare feet skated over the dark wooden floor, dragging the slack corpse with her, its heels thumping arrhythmically against the floorboards.

There was no music in the room. No orchestra, no gramophone, nothing but the echo of her movements, the sway of her clothes, and the faint drip of blood. But Wendy danced as if a phantom waltz filled the tower, as if she could hear violins and cellos rising and lilting. She spun, giggling like a little girl again, and Daryl's body spun with her, limp and headless.

I get it now. The human part of Wendy was being devoured by the blood. Her psyche shredded piece by piece as her new vampiric nature burned her humanity like a fever. Henry had warned me of the change before: once vampirism take hold of a mortal, they were forever changed. And there was no going back.

By feeding on Daryl, Wendy's transformation into a spawn was complete.

Wendy danced harder, faster, dragging Daryl's corpse through pirouettes as if trying to keep pace with some nonexistent crescendo. The sound of her laughter cracked and warped until it wasn't laughter at all, but something far more feral.

Far below in the conservatory, Nina broke the pond's black surface, choking on her own breath as she dragged herself to the edge of the stones. Water clung to her clothes, weighing her down as an icy chill gripped her. Her body wanted to fold in on itself. She forced it forward. One more. Just one more inch! She staggered on all fours, coughing until her throat burned, her palms raw against the grit of moss and shattered glass. She saw the silver knife on the ground a foot away and she quickly grabbed it, clutching it like a lifeline.

A noise from above seized her chest, and she shoved herself fast behind a thick clutch of shrubs. She pressed her mouth into the crook of her arm to muffle the sound of her straining lungs.

Don't breathe too loud.

Don't make any sudden moves.

Don't be prey.

The mantra pounded inside her skull. Everything had narrowed to a single, brutal certainty: one mistake and she'd end up like Daryl. Headless. Bloody. Dead. She didn't even know what killed him, but she was not eager to find out.

She pulled her knees tight against her chest, eyes darting through the latticework of branches. Beyond the glass roof of the conservatory, bright moonlight peeking behind dark clouds spilled down, illuminating everything in dim light with no shadows deep enough to hide in. But someone above had granted her some luck as dark rain clouds began to roll in and block most of the light, which was quickly followed by a soft drizzle of rain a few seconds later, pattering against the glass roof of the conservatory..

I need to move. Can't sit here and wait to be carved open like the others.

There were two doors she could see from her vantage point. Both were the same french-style doors made of six-panel glass, but one led back to the manor and the other lead outside…toward the shadowy sprawl of the backyard, the hedge maze, the garden, and the greenhouse. She could sneak and get closer toward the door if it was unlocked. She realized none of the windows had any bars or security mesh like the ones inside the building.

Could this be the way out? She thought.

It was too good to be true.

But she had to find out for herself.

Nina dug her fingernails into her soaked jeans, holding herself still, straining to hear the predator stalking her. The terrace was silent now, but that didn't mean the beast had left. It could be waiting.

I was impressed by her survival instinct so far.

Were-Luke was twenty feet above her, crouched like a stone gargoyle. He hadn't taken his eyes off her since she dragged herself out of the pond. Her Resolve was low, but nowhere near crimson. Nowhere near the killing blow. That meant he still got a lot of work to do to reap her essence. He decided the wait-and-see approach on his prey.

After all, the conservatory door to the backyard was one of three clean exits of the manor. Luke knew it. He was letting her find it, savoring the game by giving her hope. He glanced up at me, grinned wide, and gave a little thumbs-up like a kid proud of his little school project.

And Nina didn't want to go back inside the manor. I could tell from her face every time she glanced at the door. She was debating whether it was a good idea to go look and find the others. But her instinct was overpowering and she slowly moved toward the backyard door. Were-Luke let her get to it. He glanced up at me and gave me another cheeky thumbs up, proud that the delver hadn't seen him yet.

"You're gonna blow your cover if you keep doing that," I murmured. I hid my smile.

He rolled his eyes like I was the boring one.

Knife in hand, Nina crept to the door, a part of her cursing at herself for doing such a stupid, classic mistake. If the creature was still in here with her, they would see her clear as day. She braced and tugged the handle. The latch gave, and the door swung wide! Cool air and misty rain blew across her face as if welcoming her back to the land of the living.

For one long second, she froze—like she didn't believe freedom could be that easy. Then she stumbled forward, three stumbling steps onto the backyard stones before a strange feeling yanked her gaze back at the conservatory. Back at the doorway into the manor's throat.

Nina stood on the slick flagstones, rain biting her face. Her legs wanted to run. Just fucking go. Every nerve screamed at her to bolt across the yard, down to the truck, drive into the night, and get the fuck out of here. But the others—Sheila and Kevin—her throat constricted just thinking about them. She'd heard them scream. She'd seen Daryl's head. Christ, I know he's really dead. And she was just going to leave them? No, if they were up there with Daryl when he got killed, they're probably dead from whatever got him. That meant the smartest move was for her to get to the truck and drive off.

Her guilt crawled hot and heavy under her guts. They were probably trapped in some cramped hallway, fighting to survive. If she went back, maybe she could find them. Save them. Maybe they could get out of this together. And then what? Drag them past multiple werewolves? How low were their chances of survival if they did that? At that point, the wolves would probably know something was up and block their only way out! Then all of them would be dead.

Her hand clenched around the knife. They wouldn't hesitate if it were me. Kevin would drag Sheila out and they'll leave me if they were in my shoes. She bit down hard on her lip. They'll leave me for dead.

The latter thought hardened and solidified. She turned her back on the conservatory. One step. Then another. Each one felt like tearing her skin from bone as she forced herself to move forward.

But then she was running. Wet grass splattering up her jeans, lungs burning in the cold night air, eyes fixed on the faint silhouette of the truck idle at the edge of the gravel drive. Every stride hammered the guilt deeper into her, but she kept going.

Faster. Faster.

Faster!

Then motion snagged her attention. The manor's flanks loomed to her left, its warped glass panes glowing faint from rain-shrouded moonlight. She almost didn't look. Almost didn't care. But her gaze caught the blur of bodies moving; three figures bursting into view in the indoor pool house. Lope. Kate. Vivian. Running full-tilt with a jagged animalistic panic that matched her own. Behind them, hulking and impossibly fast, was the shadow of a werewolf stalking them.

No, two werewolves.

Nina stopped mid-stride. She could hear nothing from inside, but she knew what's going on in there. The others had no more room to run.

But the truck was right there, just twenty yards away. Her mind raced.

"Fuck this."

She ran for the truck.

Lope planted himself in front of Kate and Vivian, the medieval shield with its polished crest heavy in his grip. He found the thing hanging on a display in the hallway when they were fleeing the dining hall, and Lope grabbed it by instinct. He should have grabbed the sword too, but he was in a hurry. His heart pounded, but he set his jaw and raised the shield higher, teeth clenched against the growls circling them. Two shapes moved with a predator's patience, their claws clacking against the wet tiles.

Were-Garth paced left, hackles raised, eyes ember-bright in the humid dark. Were-Xavier was worse. His muzzle lifted, lips peeled back to show meat-shredding canines, reveling in their fear. He was a natural blending in with the pack and the System traits he was given, fitting in like a glove. It didn't look like his rogue berserker phase earlier even happened; the brawl he had with Garth long forgotten and in the past.

Dog year memories, I chuckled.

Vivian took a step forward despite Lope's arm barring her chest. "Xavier…please." Her voice trembled, but she pushed it through. "You don't have to do this. I know you're in there. You can fight it. You're not…you're not a monster."

The werewolf tilted its massive skull toward her, a grotesque grin splitting its snout. Its voice came through—rasped, guttural, stretched like torn leather—but still undeniably Xavier's.

"Don't you see, sister? I have tasted the fruit. I see this world for what it truly is: to suffer. But up here in these mountains, I no longer suffer. I am no longer weak." He paused for a moment. "I no longer grieve. For nothing matters. They no longer matter. He matters."

Vivian sobbed. "Xavier…"

"For there is only one truth all must abide." His claws scraped across tile as he advanced, savoring the words. "Serve the master. Feed him blood. Offer him flesh. Offer…yourself."

Vivian shook her head, tears streaking down her face. "No. No, that's not you. What are you talking about? That's not you."

Xavier's growl deepened, hungry, mocking. "You should be honored. All of you should. In his domain, your deaths will sing louder than your lives ever did. Give up. Shed your Resolve. My brothers and I can make it quick. Or—" The wolf stepped closer. "I can make you like me. You'd never be weak and pathetic again."

Vivian's lips quivered. Something in her eyes flickered.

"No!" Lope snapped, dragging her back, shield braced like a wall. "That's not your brother anymore, Viv. Whatever he was, it's gone. That's just a monster talking with his voice."

Were-Garth barked once, sharp and commanding. "Stop playing with the food, boy." He watched their Resolve slowly drip away. "Ahh…all they need now is one little push…"

The two wolves began to circle tighter, their movements a closing vise. Lope tightened his grip on the shield until his knuckles burned white, sweat stinging his eyes. Kate clutched Vivian's hand, dragging her behind, her own chest hitching in frantic gasps.

Were-Garth laughed at their fear. "How about we start by mincing your sister into shreds of meat?"

Were-Xavier smiled. "Gladly, brother."

And then the world tore open with the sound of shattering windows and screaming metal.

Headlights flared across the pool tiles, blinding, searing. The truck roared out of nowhere, bursting through the side wall of the pool house in an apocalyptic storm of glass. Nina didn't dare stop behind the wheel, as she barreled toward the monsters ahead, flooding their forms in yellow light.

"Fuck. YOOUUU!!!!!" Nina screamed with a feral roar.

The truck's front end smashed into Were-Xavier with a bone-splitting crunch, hurling him backward across the tiles and pinning his body against the tiled wall. The wall cracked like porcelain, spiderweb fractures racing upward. Xavier howled a wet, guttural bellow, his claws raking furrows into the hood of the truck as he thrashed.

"Nina!" Kate screamed, half in terror, half in disbelief.

Were-Garth didn't hesitate. He leaped for the driver's side, claws smashing through the window in a spray of glass. His monstrous snout thrust through the opening, teeth snapping inches away from Nina's face.

Nina shrieked, scrambling for anything until her hand found the hilt of the silver knife resting on the cupholder. With all her fear and rage behind it, she drove the blade down hard. The steel punched into Garth's thick, furred forearm, burning smoke rising where metal kissed flesh.

"Gaaaahhhh!" Were-Garth howled.

The werewolf screeched and reeled back, arm smoking, his muscles convulsing. He staggered, body curling in agony, and then turned tail, scurrying back into the shadowy corner with an animal's desperate whine as he struggled to pull the metal off his flesh. He bit the handle, gritting through the pain as he yanked the metal loose from his flesh.

Xavier snarled as he braced his legs. With a violent roar, he shoved off the crumpled hood, metal shrieking under the strain, and slipped free. His eyes locked on Lope, Kate, and Vivian—murder gleaming in every sinew as he coiled to spring.

And then the opposite door across the pool house burst open. Gunfire erupted. Kevin stormed in, pistol raised, and unloaded into the beast. Muzzle flashes strobed across the glassy ruins of the pool house.

"Stop! Stop! Stop!" Vivian pleaded to her uncle, but he didn't stop. He didn't know he was shooting at his own nephew.

Xavier jerked under the impacts, hot blood spattering across tile and water, his howl breaking into a panicked whine. He staggered back, scurrying toward Were-Garth, and both werewolves jumped out of the now broken wall and slipped into the darkness. Their wounds began to heal and stitched themselves close seconds later. In a few minutes, they'll be good as new.

After the werewolves disappeared, the pool house stank of wet fur, chlorine, and spent gunpowder. Broken glass glittered on the tiles like ice under fluorescent lights, and the rippling pool reflected the chaos in warped shapes. For a beat, none of them moved. They just stood there, breathing, bleeding, trembling, but glad they were still alive.

Then Kate locked eyes with her sister.

"Sheila?" Her voice cracked, disbelieving, as if she were afraid the vision would vanish. "Oh my god! Sheila!"

"Kate!"

Kate barreled forward, and Sheila met her halfway, both of them crashing into each other in a desperate embrace. Tears streaked both their faces, silent at first, then breaking into fitful sobs. They clutched each other so tightly it looked like they might fuse together. For one small, impossible moment, the nightmare faded away; their Resolve ticking upward to a brighter yellow.

Across the room, Vivian stood apart from the rest, her eyes still locked on the shattered wall where Xavier had vanished with Garth. Her lips quivered as she dropped to her knees, her whole body shaking from the pit that opened inside her stomach.

Kevin came over, still holding the pistol, his boots crunching on broken glass. "Viv? What's your problem? Where's Xavier?"

Vivian swallowed hard. "Uncle Kevin…you shot him. That was Xavier." Her eyes brimmed over with tears, voice strangled. "He's gone…he's gone."

Kevin froze, words also lodging in his throat. He wasn't good at this—never had been. Comfort wasn't his weapon. He shifted uncomfortably, then did the only thing he could. He reached out and squeezed her shoulder. He always had a soft spot for Vivian. He liked Xavier, but Vivian was smarter and actually had a promising future if she actually get out of town and detached herself from her brother's hip. Sometimes, he couldn't believe she's David's kid.

"Don't you dare cry now," he said bluntly. "You're not weak, Viv. If you keep acting like this, you're gonna get yourself killed and end up like your brother. Sucks for him, but you're my brother's kid, so I'm going to get you out of here."

"He's not dead, uncle."

"Turning into that is just as good as dead."

Vivian shrugged off his hand and glared at him. "Screw you. You're the reason why he's here. He wouldn't end up like that if he didn't listen to you. God, you're such an asshole." She walked past him toward the truck and climbed through the back.

Kevin groaned as if he was too old for this shit. "God, I saved everyone and this is all the thanks I get?"

Lope, still standing guard with the battered medieval crest shield strapped to his arm, bent down to pick up the silver knife Nina had driven into Garth's arm. He walk over to the truck held it out to her through the broken window. "I think you dropped this. Thanks for the save."

"Heh. I guess you all owe me one." Nina's hand trembled as she took it back. She met Lope's eyes, then the rest of them. "Yo! We can't stay out here all night. There's more of them coming. We need to move. Now."

They piled into the truck. Nina remained behind the wheel and started the engine, and miraculously, it still roared to life. "Yes! It still works," she said excitedly.

Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

Lope sat on the passenger's seat and drummed a nervous beat on the dash with his fingers. "Let's get the fuck out of here, eh?

He was jittery but grinning, eyes flicking like he wanted to be anywhere except where he was, yet thrilled all the same. The others crammed into the back with their half-looted cargo. Vivian had to sweep some of the junk aside just to carve herself a square foot of space. Nina backed out of the pool and through the wrecked wall she made, and then jammed her foot down on the pedal, causing the truck to lurch forward into the dark.

"When I get out of here," Nina started, "I'm taking the longest goddamn shower of my life."

Lope laughed. "Shower? Fuck that, I want a cheeseburger the size of my head."

Vivian interjected from behind the passenger seat. "Or, you know…we can go to the cops?"

The cab went quiet. Nina locked eyes with Lope. Then she pasted on a smile sharp enough to convince herself. "Yeah. Yeah, we will, sweetie."

From the back, Kevin shouted, "What? We're not going to the cops!"

Kate snapped her head up, one arm around Sheila. "Are you insane, Kev? Of course we're going to the cops! FBI, CIA, the fucking National Guard, maybe the whole army should come here and nuke the place! If we have to—"

"And tell them what, Kate?" Kevin's tone was ice cold. "That vampires and werewolves tried to eat us? Yeah, genius. See how far that gets you."

Lope blinked and turned around from his seat. "Hold on a minute. Did you just say vampires?"

As if on cue, a sudden blur of black and pale came screaming down from the sky. Wendy hit the hood in a graceful thud, landing feather-light where no human body her size should. She didn't even crumple the hood. Her smile smeared across her blood-caked mouth, and she lifted one hand and wiggled her fingers at Nina through the windshield, a twisted parody of a friendly wave.

"Holy shit!" Nina hissed, and shoved the pedal down hard.

The truck fishtailed across the wet grass, tires spitting mud as Nina gunned it toward the open gates. The speedometer needle twitched higher and higher.

"Jesus Christ, get her off!" Lope slammed his palm on the dash, panic slipping into his voice.

Nina jerked the wheel hard to shake the vampire off. The truck swerved left, then right, the world outside a blurring as they went. Wendy only laughed like she was enjoying a carnival ride. She quickly crawled up the windshield, fingers scoring faint tracks in the glass, then perched on the roof. The metal groaned above them under her weight.

"Stay down!" Kevin barked from the back, leveling his pistol upward.

"Don't shoot inside the truck!" Nina snapped. "You might hit one of us!"

As the delvers panicked, I caught their mistake. The back of the truck had never been latched shut in their rush to pile inside.

And Wendy saw it, too.

With a gust of wind and a sudden jolt of weight, Wendy backflipped, grabbed the edge of the roof, and swung and into the open bay, landing in a crouch directly in front of Sheila with a mischievous smile.

"Oh! There you all are!" Wendy said.

Sheila screamed, scrambling back against the truck wall, while Kate's breath hitched sharp enough to cut her throat. Her best friend stood there, drenched in blood, eyes lit with a predator's fire.

"Wendy?" Kate whispered as she couldn't believe what she was seeing. Saying her name dragged with it years of friendship, late-night secrets, and good memories, all of it curdling into a hurricane of terror that left her frozen for a long moment.

"Kate! It's not Wendy anymore!" Sheila screamed.

For half a heartbeat, recognition crossed Wendy's face. Then the hunger took over. Her head twitched and her mouth split wide as she launched toward Sheila.

"You scream too much," Wendy said to Sheila.

"No!" Kate shouted.

Kevin tried to line up his shot, but the truck jolted over uneven ground, and the two women were a tangled mess of clawing limbs and ragged shrieks. He cursed and pulled back, sweat dripping down his temple. His finger hovered on the trigger, afraid to pull it.

Nina heard the chaos in the back but couldn't take her eyes off the rain-slicked road ahead. "What the hell is happening back there?!"

"She's here!" Kevin roared. "She's in the goddamn truck!"

Wendy had Sheila pinned, forearm grinding into her throat, claws peeling fabric from her jacket like paper. Her fangs snapped inches from the pulse hammering in Sheila's neck. Sheila bucked and kicked, adrenaline-fueled strength barely keeping her alive. Kate's gaze darted for a weapon around the truck. Her hands found the heavy gilt frame of a painting, one of the manor's stolen trinkets. She seized it and swung hard against Wendy's back.

The corner of the frame crunched into Wendy's ribs with a meaty thunk. The vampire hissed and staggered sideways, eyes blazing with annoyance. Sheila shoved her off hard, breaking free just long enough to breathe and crawl out of the way.

But just as Wendy was about to attack Kate, Vivian took her chance. She launched forward, both feet driving into Wendy's chest in a hard dropkick that sent the vampire tumbling backward. The next lurch of the truck did the rest—momentum flung her straight out the open bay. She rolled once across the slick grass and gravel, then was swallowed by the dark. The others could no longer see her as they drove further away.

Vivian slid forward, almost pitching out herself, but Kevin's hand shot out with an iron grip on her arm, yanking her back from the edge.

Kate dropped the painting, its frame splintering against the floor, and seized Sheila in a trembling embrace. "I thought—I thought she had you," she sobbed into her sister's hair.

Sheila clung back and cried.

"You okay, kid?" Kevin pulled Vivian deeper into the truck. "That was some kick you got."

"Vampires are real, too?" Vivian asked.

Kevin holstered the pistol, jaw clamped tight, scanning the black behind them. "Yep. Seems like this place is a fucking monster zoo."

Lope turned in his seat, face pale. "How about next time," he snapped, "WE. CLOSE. THE. FUCKING. DOOR?!"

Wendy hit the asphalt with a bone-rattling smack, skidding across the gravel-strewn drive. She twisted like a cat, landing half-crouched, half-crumpled, her fingers clawing at the ground to stop her from rolling further. Unlike Roy, who was an enhanced mortal as a familiar, vampire spawns were elite monsters of their own that could hold their ground against other delvers, worthy enough to be close to the same strength as an archetype. It would take more than a corkscrew to kill her.

Her lips curled back, fangs bared, eyes glowing an animal red as she watched the truck's back lights slowly faded in the distance. She shot to her feet, blood-slick hair clinging to her cheeks.

"That bitch kicked me!" Wendy shrieked, voice carrying across the mountain night like breaking glass. "Ahhh, I'm going to cut her first, limb-by-limb." She flung her arms wide, as though ready to sprint after the truck.

But a figure stepped from the shadows of the gate's stone arch.

Duke Henry.

He glided silently toward her, unhurried, his shoes barely inches off the ground, the black coat flaring just slightly as he floated toward his spawn. He raised one pale hand in her direction as he landed next to her.

"This is not our hunt," Henry reminded her.

Wendy froze mid-step, chewing the words she wanted to say. "They're mine," she hissed. "I can taste them still. I'm fast enough that I think I can—"

"It's not about being fast, dear. It's against the rules."

"On whose rules?"

Henry shook his head slowly. "Our liege. We have not been chosen by the delvers, and so we will stay here."

The word Him sent a ripple of cold through the air. Wendy's lip trembled, rage burning hotter than her shame. She looked like she wanted to spit in Henry's face, but something primal in her blood reminded her what he was. Who he was to her. She lowered her gaze, snarling, but did not move.

"Wendy, darling. Do not pout. You've done well tonight. I am impressed in how you savored your kill."

"I could have done more if not for these stupid rules and the stupid colors of their Resolve. We're vampires. We can do whatever we want. He's not doing anything anyway. It's us who does all the work. All the killing."

Henry's head snapped toward her so suddenly it was as if his neck would break. The crimson glow in his eyes flared brighter, and the air itself seemed to constrict around them. His voice came like a lash.

"Stupid?" he repeated, the syllables dragging with a cruel weight. "You dare call His law—our Lord's law—stupid?"

Wendy flinched, but her pride made her bare her fangs. "I just meant—"

Henry's hand shot forward, faster than she could track. His fingers closed around her jaw, tilting her face up to his. The tips of his nails pressed into her skin, just enough to break it, letting rivulets of blood bead and run down her neck.

"You are mine," he hissed, voice trembling with controlled rage. "My spawn. My shadow. An extension of myself. And you would dishonor the one who made all this possible by tarnishing his gifts? Our liege, who raised us from our pitiful existence and gave us power? Power you now enjoy? Do you know that our Lord Dungeon can easily strike you down with one thought?"

Wendy whimpered, but the sound was half growl. Her nails dug into Henry's wrist, though she knew she couldn't pry him off.

"Henry…" I started.

But Henry raised a finger and leaned in until his lips brushed her ear. "Such insolence… such arrogance from you! It reeks of a minion unworthy of her master's favor. I should have taught you reverence. Perhaps that is my failing. Perhaps you need a reminder. Speak ill of our liege again and I will not hesitate to cut off your head. Do I make myself clear?"

"Cl—clear, my lord. Very clear."

He shoved her back hard enough that she stumbled across the gravel, catching herself on all fours like an animal. His coat billowed as he straightened, his expression smoothing back into a terrible calm, gentleman-like.

"Ahh, I apologize for my spawn, my lord. Such are the shortcomings of their kind. Always eager to bite more than they can chew," Henry's gaze sharpened again, locking on her trembling form. "But you will learn, Wendy. You will learn. I'll see to it personally before you offend me and the denizens of this domain with such foulness. I will make you worthy and proper in our liege's eyes."

I wanted to interrupt that it wasn't that serious, but it didn't look like Henry would appreciate my interference as he corrected what he thought was an inexcusable behavior of his minion.

"I accept your apology, Duke," I said.

Henry sighed in relief. He then turned back to his spawn. "Go back to the manor. Clean yourself up. You're filthy."

She staggered to her feet and slunk off toward the manor, silent, humiliated.

Henry kept his gaze fixed on the empty road where the delvers had fled. Then he pursed his lips and let out a sharp whistle. Three massive shapes thundered from the shadows: Garth, Luke, and Xavier, their fur bristling, their claws gouging the earth as they tore through the open gate, ran past Henry, and went after the truck. The vampire didn't even flinch as the gust from their wake tussled his coat and perfectly brushed hair.

"Happy hunting, little pups," Henry turned toward the manor.

The truck rattled down the two-lane strip of asphalt, its headlights slicing into the dark. Thirty minutes of the same stretch of road, the same trees, the same black teeth of the looming mountain pressing close. Nina's eyes burned as she's focused on the road, her knuckles tight on the wheel.

"I'm telling you for the fifteenth time! This road has no exit! It will keep looping and looping until we run out of gas, or worse. Uncle, please. Listen to me," Vivian said, louder now than the previous time she tried explaining what she and Xavier experienced earlier in the night. She jabbed her finger at the side window where the rain-slick shapes blurred by. "Look. That's my wrecked car. And the sports car that Kate was driving. We passed it before See? See?"

"Kate, do you know about this?" Kevin asked.

Kate leaned closer to the glass. Ahead, a weathered sign creaked in the wind, paint peeling under the beam of the headlights: CEDAR PINE SUMMER CAMP.

Her stomach dropped. "She's right," Kate said. "I didn't notice the loop before, but Vivian's telling the truth. We've been going around in circles."

They drove on for a few more seconds until the narrow spur of gravel to the Sawyer Farmhouse rose out of the woods, and then vanishing into shadow as they drove past. A couple of minute later, the sharp bend that broke into the gravel track leading toward the cabin. Nina swallowed hard but didn't dare stop; the thought of pulling over, killing the truck's engine, felt like signing everyone's death warrant.

Lope drummed his fingers restlessly against his thigh. "So…what the hell do we do then? Just keep going in circles until we run out of gas? Or for those things to come get us?"

"The Sawyers know these mountains. They grew up around here," Kate said. She already told them that she suspected the Sawyer brothers might be all werewolves and that they were the ones hunting them.

"Then we find somewhere they're not familiar with and hide there," Sheila cut in.

Kevin groaned, dragging his palm down his face. "Not this shit again."

"Hear me out. Hiding in the manor was idiotic, sure, but—what if there's another place? Somewhere they don't expect for us to go?"

"Like where?" Kevin shot back. "You see a Motel 6 out here?"

"The campgrounds," Kate suggested. "Leo and Danny Hardy closed the camp four years ago. The buildings aren't rundown or totally ruined. Most of them are still intact and highly defensible. There might be a phone or something we can find in there to call for help, too."

Sheila's eyes lit up. "Like a radio."

"Yes! Like a radio."

"I know the place. A bunch of my classmates used to trespass and go there to drink, party, and have—" Vivian stopped herself from saying too much when she noticed all of the adults looking at her. "Okay, fine, I've been there before for a party. But the cops got wind of it, so they always sent out a patrol there to check around the premises." That gave her an idea. "What if we go there and maybe the sheriff or one of his deputies drive by? Maybe they can rescue us!"

"Kev," Lope said, turning in his seat, "it's worth checking out, man."

"We just have to hold on until dawn," Nina said.

Kate blinked. "Until what?"

"Until dawn. That's what the woman said before she…never mind. She called this place a weird name…what was it…ah! A dungeon. Said half of this mountain is a dungeon So, to survive, I think Sheila is right that we have to hunker down and barricade ourselves somewhere safe. The camp might be our best bet."

"Don't remind me," Kevin said. "She also mentioned she has plenty of friends. What's next, zombies? Frankenstein? The Mummy?"

Sheila rolled her eyes. "Zombies? Really?"

"What? They're scary all rotting and shit. Yuck."

"Could be more," Lope muttered. "Place is crawling with freaky shit already. Why not a chupacabra, too?"

"Or Bigfoot," Sheila added.

"Or Jason Voorhees," Kate also added, letting out a soft chuckle. "We're going to a campground next to a creepy lake after all."

"Don't joke around about this, guys," Nina snapped. "If Ray hadn't opened those doors—"

"Doors?" Vivian's head jerked up.

Sheila chimed in to explain. "When Ray entered the vault back at the manor, there were these weird doors. He opened the door with wolves drawn on it, and then the…well…the werewolves came and attacked us. That lady—Henry's assistant—told us that the werewolves are hunting us because we opened that particular door."

Lope scoffed. "So…if Ray opened more doors…"

"I guess there will be more monsters coming after us," Nina answered. "That woman sounded really disappointed she wasn't the one that got picked."

That made Lope feel weirdly better. "At least we know only one type of monster is hunting us, right?"

"Why did the vampires attacked us then?" Sheila asked.

They were quiet for a moment until Kate answered, "Maybe it's because we're in their house? Henry lives there. Maybe that gives him permission to go after us, hunting together with the werewolves. In the books and in the movies, dungeons have lairs, right? What if the manor are the vampires' lair? And the Sawyer farmhouse we escaped from were the werewolves?"

Another pause.

Sheila's eyes darkened. "What do you think will be waiting for us in the campgrounds? Whose lair will that be?"

They didn't have an answer. They didn't want to even entertain the idea of what monster lurked in there.

Vivian shivered, hearing Madame Dallaire's voice in her memory: Never go into those mountains, Vivian. Never. She hugged her knees tight. She broke that promise. "This place make me feel like I'm in one of Xavier's video games. Usually in those games, we clear a level or a lair by killing the monsters that live in it."

"We don't know how many there are," Kevin said.

"I count three," Lope said. "Three werewolves. One inside the manor that attacked Ray and me. The second one outside the manor preventing our escape. Then, there's Xavier who killed that other guy."

"Suraj. His name is Suraj," Vivian said.

"And the one in the tunnel chasing us to the manor. I think that was Alan Sawyer," Kate added. "There's three Sawyer brothers. So, four werewolves are after us."

Nina's stomach went cold. Her hands clenched harder on the wheel. "Wait. If Garth and Luke are at the manor with Xavier… then where's Alan?"

And the forest answered her.

A crash of timber. Something colossal tore open and exploded out of the tree line. A blur of fur and fangs, barreling like a freight train toward them. Alan Sawyer, the alpha, hit the side of the truck like a goddamn wrecking ball. Metal screamed, glass burst inward, and the whole world turned over itself.

The steering wheel tore out of Nina's hands, spinning wild under her palms. The windshield went white with spider cracks. Metal screamed and buckled as the truck jumped the asphalt, nose dragging into gravel, before the ditch caught them broadside and turned the whole world inside like a washing machine.

Everything came loose at once.

The roof was the floor and was the roof again. Nina felt her body tear against the seatbelt, her stomach lurching into her throat as glass exploded inward, needling her face and arms. Lope slammed into the dash with a grunt, then was flung back like a rag doll, the seatbelt securing him in place.

Behind them, the cargo bay was pure carnage. Kevin's bulk ricocheted off the wall, Sheila's scream turned liquid as her shoulder cracked against steel, Kate clutching her sister even as both were thrown like dice in a tin can. Vivian's cries were cut sharp, then vanished under the grinding of metal. The truck rolled one more sickening half turn before it stopped on its side, laying on its flank like a slaughtered beast.

The noise didn't stop, not right away. Steel and metal popped and settled, small shards rained down, the engine hissing like a wounded animal. Then the silence came after, broken only by the collective groans of the half-stunned, half-broken delvers inside.

Kate groaned, pushing herself upright in the tilted cabin. Bruises sang in her ribs. Lope spat out something hot and wet, maybe a tooth, and cursed under his breath. He looked up to see Nina dangled above him, strapped in, half-hung by the seatbelt, and preventing her from falling on top of him. Sheila clutched her arm, staring at the blood dripping down her wrist but not registering it that she might have sprained and cut her arm during the roll.

"Viv!" Kevin's voice cut through the ringing inside his ears. He scrambled toward the back. A heap of heavy frames had buried Vivian, gilt edges and cracked canvases pinning her down. She whimpered, trying to kick and wiggle herself free. Kevin tore them off, one after another, until he dragged her into the open area. Her lip was split, half of her face covered in blood, but otherwise she was fine. Kevin took off his jacket, tore it up, and wiped Vivian's face.

"I want to get out of here, uncle," Vivian said.

"You're okay. We're okay." He wiped most of the blood off her.

"I'm sorry for what I said earlier."

"With what?"

"If I'm gonna die here, I want to say sorry for calling you a piece of shit."

Kevin couldn't help but smile and chuckle about that. "Well, you're not wrong."

"I just want to go home."

"Come here." Kevin pulled Vivian into a hug and whispered in her ear, "And I'm sorry for bringing the two of you here. I'm gonna get you out, okay? I'm gonna get you out. I promise."

Vivian sobbed and buried her face into his shoulder. She said nothing back.

Back at the front, Nina strained at the belt, panic rising. "Get me down. Someone cut me down! It's stuck!"

Lope scrambled over, reaching for her. No matter how many times he pressed the red button to unlatch Nina's seatbelt, it wouldn't come off. "Okay, hang on. Just hang on, I'll cut you loose."

"I dropped my knife somewhere. I can't find it."

Lope looked around but couldn't find it. His eyes landed on the glovebox compartment and opened it, where a bunch of crumpled tissue papers, unopened letters, loose candies, and random stuff poured out. Luckily, Lope found a box-cutter.

"I found something that might help."

"Hurry!"

Lope started sawing through the seatbelt.

A low, rolling growl slipped through the cracks of the truck. Everyone froze as they felt a presence stalking in around them. The growl grew closer and louder.

"Hurry," Nina whispered.

Lope kept sawing through the belt, cutting halfway through.

And then the driver's side door tore open like wet paper, hinges screaming against everyone's ears. In one horrible wrench it ripped away, thrown high, and vanished into the dark woods.

The werewolf's massive frame blotted out the little light of the night above the opening. Then, the beast reached in. Claws like rebar hooked around Nina's torso. She screamed and braced against the wheel, clutching Lope's arm with everything she had. "Oh my god! He's got me! He's got me!"

"Don't let go!" Lope roared.

Kate and Sheila lunged too, grabbing at Nina's legs, arms, her belt, her shirt, anything they could hold. For a heartbeat it was a desperate tug-of-war.

Were-Alan pulled with barely a strain in his muscles and Nina was ripped from her seat like a rag doll. Her nails tore bloody crescents into Lope's arm before she slipped away. Alan hurled her through the air and crashed across the asphalt, rolling until she skidded to a stop in the beam of the truck's tilted headlights, in full view of everyone inside the truck.

Nina tried to crawl, dragging herself toward the ruined truck, but her right leg wasn't working. A deep jagged slash ran down her thigh, the muscle torn open by Alan's claws. Her hands slapped uselessly at the pavement, leaving smears of red as she sobbed for help.

The others watched from the broken windshield, paralyzed. Sheila was shaking, whispering "No, no, no" like a prayer. Vivian pressed herself into Kevin's side, refusing to lift her head and watch. Lope had both hands clamped on his bleeding arm where Nina had scratched him.

"Fuck. What do we do? What do we do?" Kate muttered, lost.

In the headlights, Nina screamed and dragged herself another foot closer. Were-Alan prowled after her from the periphery, the way a cat might approach a crippled bird. His shadow stretched monstrously long across the road, swallowing her whole.

And Were-Alan was a sight to behold.

The Alpha.

The beams of the truck's headlights fell upon him, and in that instant, he seemed less a beast and more an apparition risen from the deepest depths of nightmares. A horrifying monstrosity you'd pay to see on a large IMAX screen. He was a full head taller than his pack, larger too, his form a blasphemy of proportion. His shoulders were massive, his chest broad and unyielding, and the play of sinew beneath the pelt glistened with strength. The fur clung sleek to him, dark as iron under the silvering light of the receding rain clouds, unshroud the full moon again from above.

His muzzle elongated into a dreadful mask of hunger, and when his lips peeled back, they revealed not the simple fangs of an animal, but a multitude of teeth, ivory white and gleaming, serrated in tiers where his breath steamed in the night air, fetid, intoxicating, every exhalation a promise of the exquisite ruin he would bring. His claws, long and curved, glistened in the headlight's beam like the polished talons of a falcon bred for slaughter.

But it was the eyes that made him sublime and horrifying to look at. They burned with a lambent glow of an orange fire dredged from the bowels of Hell. Yet within them lay cunning—an intelligence unearthly and cruel, savoring the agony of the girl who clawed feebly across the asphalt. The gaze was not of hunger alone; it was adoration of the suffering and pain, as though her terror were a rare perfume he inhaled with complete rapture.

Kate's breath went ragged. "He got a lot bigger."

Kevin kept his gaze on him. "I guess we found the pack leader."

Lope scrambled up to get out through the open door, but Kevin lunged and grabbed his legs, pulling him back.

"What are you doing? I'm going to help her!" Lope said to Kevin.

"That's what he wants you to do! We need to get the hell out of here!" Kevin said.

"But we're not just going to leave her there."

Kevin gritted his teeth. "Come on, Viv. Let's open the back door and run for the woods."

"Uncle—"

"Now."

Were-Alan paused, looming above Nina. Then, he threw back his head and howled. The sound ripped through the air, a bellow of authority and power, vibrating in the bone and blood. The woods answered him. Multiple voices rose, harmonizing in that dreadful key, high and low, shrill and primal, until the night itself shook with the chorus of werewolves.

Nina froze, her breath catching, heart a hammering drum. She was dragging her ruined leg, the pain a white-hot spear stabbing through her nerves, but for a second—just a second—she thought maybe she could get back to the truck. If she could just reach Kevin or Lope's hand. Maybe she'll survive. Maybe if they come out and helped her…

Maybe…

Were-Garth and Were-Luke exploded from the shadows, moving faster than any living thing should. Before Nina could even scream, they were upon her. A claw raked across her back, tearing fabric, skin, and muscle. The shock was instant, numbing, then the fire came, a searing pain that forced the air out of her lungs in a ragged howl of her own.

No. Not like this. Not me. Please, God, please.

But her prayer was answered with teeth. Luke slammed his jaws into her shoulder, bones crunching like dry sticks. She felt her collarbone snapping inward, the blood rushing hot and wet down her arm, her nerves screaming with unbearable static. Her vision went black at the edges.

I don't want to die! I don't want—

Garth's weight drove her down. His claws pinned her ribs onto the pavement, digging into her like iron hooks, and puncturing her lungs. She tried to scream for Kevin, for Sheila, but all that came was a bubbling gurgle. Blood filled her throat, metallic and hot, drowning her words.

The others inside the truck screamed. She saw their faces through the shattered windshield—Kate's hands on the glass, Lope's mouth wide in horror, Vivian's eyes huge, Kevin pulling her back, shouting something she couldn't hear.

They were still alive. They were still safe. At least the monsters haven't gotten to them. They should—

She realized it then she was already gone. The beasts weren't killing her; They were devouring her.

Teeth tore into her stomach, a ripping sound like wet fabric. She felt her insides spill out, the strange, terrible release of pressure as her body gave way. Pain and relief mixed until her mind couldn't tell the difference. Her body convulsed like a twitch of a dying animal.

Dad. I want my dad. I don't want this. Not like this.

For a small moment, she imagined her father waiting for her at the end of the road. And for that small moment, she felt…relieved.

Relieved that she would be seeing him again.

What would he say?

What would he say?

What would he say?

Please, let me hear it.

Her vision tilted, the headlights refracting in her tears, turning the world into streaks of blotting white. The Alpha just looked down at her broken form with unreadable eyes. She saw the blur of claws and fur and teeth above her, the monsters working in tandem like starving jackals, and then—her world tore in half.

Luke bit into her hip. Garth ripped at her chest. Together they wrenched hard into opposite directions, snarling in frenzied unison until Nina was split in half.

Half of Nina, the head and torso, collapsed on the pavement, her arm still twitching. The other half dragged across the asphalt in Garth's jaws, a trail of gore painting the road.

The last thing she saw were the others running into the woods, swallowed by the shroud of darkness that hung over it.

[ You have gained 1 essence: Nina Travers ]

[You have gained 150 crystals]