The Lost: Book Two of The Whitechapel Chronicles

Chapter 18

Even when they turned into their true selves, you could always see some vestige of their human side still in there somewhere. It was usually in the face, seemingly stuck halfway between human and wolf, which somehow made their transformation all the more terrifying because behind the animal, you could still see them; the person you thought they were until you discovered that they were actually some twisted, monstrous hybrid. And as they attacked, it was still that face you saw, still that person you remembered, and somewhere inside you, your grip on sanity would loosen because the reality really was just too horrifying to accept. But that wasn't the case with Felix.  As I stared wide-eyed and unleashing the most pitiful of screams, I could clearly see that all remnants of humanity had been lost to the hunger and the animal wasn't going to let go until I was ripped to shreds, nothing left but gristle and bone in its powerful jaws.

But of course, my death wasn't part of the plan. Daniel himself had said it. And as soon as the rest of them realised that Felix wasn't relenting, the room erupted. Two of the beasts, the ones who I hadn't recognised from Brandon's group, seemed to catch fire with the same fever and they fought to reach me, turning on the junior lawyer when he wouldn't give up his prize. One clamped onto the back of Felix's back and tore manically at the Varúlfur's flesh, spraying blood into the air. The other, howling in fury, dug its claws into Felix's hind leg muscle and raked them down the length of its calf and with the combined weight of two of the clan on its back; Felix finally released me and turned on them. Together they went sprawling to the floor in a jumbled mess of limbs and twisted bodies and Daniel and Paul had no choice but to wade into the fight, leaving me to fade away, my vision failing and body plunging into shock.

From somewhere far below, I heard the screams of the dead as I plummeted towards them, unable to maintain my grip on consciousness any longer. Their faces twisted in horror and sorrow as I fell, their mouths open wide in shock and hopeless grief. Like a swarm, they converged at the point of my impending impact, arms outstretched and amongst them I saw the grinning visages of the demons, eyes alight in triumph and flesh like melted wax. But the power and agony of the dead was overwhelming and they surged forward, like wave upon wave, all clamouring underneath me as I tumbled closer and closer and the demons were lost in the melee, falling under the weight of so many souls. And the further I fell into the darkness, the louder they cried.

No, no, no, no, they screamed in unison.

It was then I heard another voice, cutting through the noise of the wailing dead. It was a howl of indescribable rage. A roar of incandescent fury. It sent tremors rippling through me and suddenly I was ripped out of the darkness, my body hurtling back up, my limbs flailing about me and now I was the one screaming no, no, no, no. I didn't want to come back. I didn't want to face the pain. I didn't want to know what else awaited me.

As I broke through the surface, with an audible rasping inhale of breath that sent shock waves of pain pulsating through my chest, I gasped for air, eyes stinging with tears that obscured my vision. Through the salty haze, I could make out the bodies of the Varúlfur, still struggling against each other. The room was heavy with the stench of their blood and sweat and filled with their snarls, which bubbled thickly from their snot-plastered mouths. A flash of darkness crossed my vision, a huge monstrous shape that towered over even Daniel and I watched in dazed horror as the blurred figure picked up Felix and tossed him against the wall with ease. I heard the crack of bone and the agonised yelp that followed and then the darkness seemed to swamp Felix, consuming him completely. The yelp quickly morphed into something far more human, a gargled, muffled scream that pierced the fog I was engulfed within and it was a scream that I would never, ever forget. I heard the sickening tear of flesh, a sucking, ripping wet sound and the heavy odour of foul Varúlfur blood filled my nostrils. A great roar of triumph emanated from the darkness and the beasts quickly retreated. I tried desperately to raise my head but it flopped uselessly to one side and through fluttering heavy lids, I watched helplessly as they withdrew and the dark shape remained, turning its attention upon me. It advanced, shrouding me in its awful shadow, and all I could do was wait and hope for the end.