The scent of the werewolves tickled Brian's nose and he tried desperately to conceal his adverse reaction. The sound of his guitar echoed through the lecture hall as he played his special piece. He looked out into the audience and squinted his eyes in the lights.
They must be somewhere in the audience, he thought, or the werewolf scent is stuck on someone's clothes.
Another wave of the stench hit his nose and he felt the tips of his fangs pierce through his gums. Brian pursed his lips together and felt their pointy tips poke at his tongue. A wrong note repeated due to his delay pedals through the room and Brian cringed and looked down at his hands in confusion. His nails on his left hand had elongated into semi-claws and pressed down on the wrong string like some sort of rudimentary tap.
He inhaled sharply through his nose and turned around to conceal his changes from audience members in the front rows. He made eye-contact with Roger felt his eyes quickly change color. The drummer raised his eyebrows like he asked, 'Is everything alright?'
Roger caught on, Brian internally scolded himself. He looked over to John whose eyes flashed yellow. John slowly shook his head.
Brian sighed and turned back around to face the audience. Something is certainly wrong. The werewolves are so close, he thought, but the show must go on!
He let himself melt into the guitar solo and slowly but surely he felt himself change back into his fully human appearance. As he placed the final hard rock section of his solo, he thought, I am lucky to have guitar. It is my sword to speak through and my shield to hide my lycanthropy behind.
By the end of Liar, the smell of werewolves had all but dissolved out of the room. John, Roger, and Brian all joined Freddie at the front of the stage for their bows and the crowd let out a deafening cheer. Freddie bid the audience goodnight and Brian followed Freddie out of the lecture hall back to their makeshift dressing room.
"Brilliant! Just brilliant!" Freddie awed, "They loved us, they really did!"
"Of course they did, Freddie," John answered as he propped up his bass against a wall.
Brian put the Red Special in her guitar case and kicked off his clogs to let his sweat feet breathe.
John wrinkled his nose and fanned the air in front of his face. "Holy shit, Brian!" he gagged, "What've you got there, hm? A dead animal tied 'round your ankle?"
"Even I can smell them," Freddie teased, "Please put those up and away as soon as the four of us are done changing."
Brian laughed and looked around the changing room for Roger's witty remark, but his friend was nowhere to be found. Brian rolled his eyes and took off his blouse.
"Where is Roger?" he asked.
"I don't know, love," Freddie answered, "I thought he was behind you."
Brian responded, "I thought he was behind John."
"That's odd. I thought he was taking care of his drums after the show," John said.
Freddie snorted. He said, "More like talking to the girls."
Something twisted inside Brian's stomach and he felt like something was wrong.
There was a soft knock at the door and Ben the quick-learning sound guy peaked his head in. Freddie waved him in and Ben gently closed the door behind him.
"That show was magnificent! You lot are really going somewhere," he exclaimed, "I can see it now: Queen World Tour!"
John humbly replied, "Thank you, Ben."
"Oi Ben, did you see where Rog went?" Brian asked, "We haven't seen him since the show."
"Is he taking apart his drums?" Freddie clarified.
Ben shook his head. "Roger? No," he answered, "He isn't with his drums. My mate Joe is guarding them as we speak. I saw Roger talking to a girl after the show. They went outside."
Something clicked inside Brian's brain and he immediately dropped everything that he was doing and ran out of the building and into the street.
Roger, Roger, Roger, he thought, find the scent, find the scent!
He paused by a door leading outside the lecture hall. Here Roger's scent became mingled with fear and polluted by the odor of the werewolves.
"They took him," Brian growled as he clenched his fists, "Those bastards! They took him!"
He took off through the dark streets of Brighton unshod and without a shirt. He followed the werewolves' scent as it twisted and turned through the air like a labyrinth. He didn't care that he ran at a speed inhuman, nor did he care if any late night adventurers saw him. Every sense was multiplied tenfold. He could hear the sound of a mouse scurrying on the other side of the street and the heartbeat of those he came close to running by. His olfactory sense was as overwhelming as it was on his first full moon and the aromas bleed unto his tongue so that he tasted everything from the pavement to the salty air that was around him. His eyesight remained sharp, attentive, and colourful. He felt like he was made to find and protect Roger.
Where are they? Where did they take him? he pondered. His foot splashed into a puddle from an old rain shower and the bottoms of his bellbottoms became dampened and rough with water.
Another spike of Roger's adrenaline waved through the air and Brian howled in anger. His eyes glowed like an eternal fire as he coursed closer to the source of the scent.
Brian followed the trail into the heart of Brighton and he allowed his fangs to be fully unveiled in his mouth.
The scent trail led him to an abandoned bakery that stood alone by itself on the corner of an old street. There! he thought.
He slinked to the front of the bakery like an ally cat and peered in through the dark windows. The ground floor was completely abandoned save scraps of dusty bread racks or bowls left behind. He placed his ear up to the window and listened. Faintly, on the first floor, he could hear maniacal voices chattering like a cluster of squirrels.
He snuck around the edge of the building to its left side and looked up at a window on the first floor. Brian took a step back and rolled his shoulders. He placed one hand on the uneven brick wall and prayed a silent prayer. To his surprise, he was able to easily climb up the wall. A small blue light briefly shown through the window above his head and he gave one last heave to poke his head over the framing to see inside.
Inside the window stood at least five individuals. Each of them were poorly lit by the moonlight shining through a skylight in the room in which they stood, but Brian could tell that they were supernatural beings by their eyes that occasionally glowed blue and their unnatural movements and posture. On the far side of the room from the window sat Roger on his knees like a French monarch during the Revolution waiting to be executed. Two individuals, whom Brian decided must be werewolves, stood at his side as guard. Roger blinked a few times and looked up out the window. His eyes widened at the sight of Brian staring back at him. One of the werewolves at his side looked over to the window. Their eyes flashed blue and they pointed at Brian's head.
Fuck! Brian thought. He let go of his holding and fell down to the ground. He ran to the other side of the building and heard the back door to the bakery open and close. Thinking fast, he climbed up onto the roof and listened to a couple of voices chattering below.
"Alpha said it'd be here," a male voice said. His voice was low and sounded like scraping gravel.
"Yes, yes, but the trail ends here," a squeaky voice said, "We only smell it going up."
It? Brian wondered, Am I it?
"Up? It is a climber," the first voice said.
The squeaky voice paused for a second and said, "Up there."
Brian gulped and moved back higher up on the roof. If I keep moving back, maybe they will get confused and lose my scent, he thought.
Suddenly, his foot slipped on a loose shingle. Before he could react, the shingle slid off of the roof and fell to the ground with a clunk.
A shrill cry projected from the searchers on the ground and Brian heard them scramble to try to climb up the sides of the bakery.
Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit! Brian thought as he scooted backward. The roof beneath him creaked and caved in. Brian plummeted through the hole like a wrecking ball and crashed onto the floor of the bakery.
"Bloody hell!" he yelled. He stood up in the fallen debris and shook like a wet dog to get the dust off.
Surrounding him were at least four werewolves, two of whom guarded Roger who knelt by the far wall.
Roger looked up at the Lycan quizzically and asked, "Brian?"
Brian bared his fangs at the werewolves who guarded him and demanded, "Give him to me!"
A wretched female voice taunted behind him, "He is ours now. Territory like this for a weak pack-mate is more than a fair bargain."
Brian spun around and his hair bristled on his head like an animal's hackle. In front of him stood what he could only discern as a monster. She was clearly once a young human woman, but as time progressed the werewolf curse demented her body like the One Ring. She had shaggy blonde hair that was greasy and looked like it hadn't been brushed in months. Her once white trousers were frayed into shorts and they were discoloured with dirty and grime. Her blouse had a shoulder completely torn off revealing an ugly scar of a savage animal bite. Blood-shot eyes gleamed at him with mischief and their pupils enlarged as she became high on the thrill. They emitted a constant faltering glow of a sinister blue. Her ears were pointed like elven ears and their tips were matted with fur.
The werewolf stepped into the moonlight and Brian widened his eyes. Fur framed around her hairline and around her face. It trailed in rugged patches down onto her exposed shoulder. Her nose was unnaturally pointed and distorted like it had partially morphed into something more canine, and her brow bone melted into the rest of her face. She held out her arms in front of her like she was about to claw Brian's soul out of the air. Her nails were unevenly long, thick, and crusted over in a reddish-brown. She smiled and revealed a sickening grin comprised of yellow fangs.
Brian lurched over and felt his ribcage move. He swallowed a fit of vomit and willed his bones back to their human arrangement. Brian looked up at the werewolf with eyes full of hate.
"Feeling shifty, are you?" she cooed.
Brian narrowed his eyes and decided not to give her the satisfaction of a response.
"I've only heard about your kind before from my sire," she continued in a sing-song voice, "Lycanus Familiā, Protector of Man. But their eyes are supposed to be yellow. Tell me, Brian May, why do you have eyes of burning ember?"
"You tell me," Brian spat.
A loud clatter erupted from the floor below. Brian heard the sound of something metal snapping and a thunder of footsteps raced up the stairs to the first floor. Two werewolves, which Brian figured were the ones searching for him on the outside of the bakery, bursted into the room and cowered in a corner behind the female werewolf.
The door swung open again and revealed John, eyes glowing yellow and his fangs bared, and Freddie behind him with half of a broken mic stand in either hand looking equally as threatening.
"You have something of ours," John growled.
"Pleasant to meet you face to face, John Deacon," the female werewolf purred.
"I'm sorry I can't offer you the same pleasure," John retorted, "You seem to know who we are. Who are you?"
"She is the Alpha!" one of the werewolves chirped.
"She needs no name, we need no name," said the werewolf with the squeaky voice.
"She is the one who changed all of us," said another.
"We are always hungry and she feeds us," said the werewolf with the gravelly voice.
The Alpha stepped forward with pride. "I am the Alpha of this pack," she crowed, "I induct them, I teach them how to hunt, how to survive. I lead them."
"Alright, Alpha of Brighton," John snarled, "Give us back our pack-mate or else."
The Alpha laughed. "What? The human?" she questioned. "He is not your pack-mate. I could see your kind taking them in as soft pets like the one standing behind you."
Freddie gripped his mic stand pieces tighter.
She continued, "You shouldn't get attached to such things. Natural selection is coming for their species and we will be triumphant."
John shook his head and retorted, "You have no right to hold him. Return him to us and we will give you a head start on the hunters."
"And then?" she contended, "Let us all be exterminated like pigeons revolting against eagles? No."
Brian stepped in and argued, "As a human, he has nothing to do with this!"
The Alpha roared, "I told you before, territory for pack-mate. If you want Brighton so bad, and I assume so correctly from your scent marking, you should be willing to sacrifice him for a greater prize, don't you think?"
"If you even try to kill him, I will tear all of you to pieces!" Brian snapped.
"Kill him? We are not going to kill him," the werwolf with the squeaky voice teased.
"No, he will become one of us," a second whispered with glee.
The Alpha raised her hand to silence the room. "I will turn him under the moon!" she announced.
"No!" Roger cried. He squirmed in vain in the grip of the werewolves.
"That is impossible!" Brian contested, "The moon isn't full!"
The Alpha rolled her eyes and slurred, "We play by different rules."
She held out one of her claws for the room to see and dug it into the scar on her shoulder. She clawed at it without flinching until it was open and sore. The Alpha stuck her index finger into her wound until it was completely buried in her flesh. A small smile crept across her face and she drew out her claw completely soaked in her own blood.
"Place him under the moonlight," she ordered.
Without thinking, Brian leapt onto the Alpha and pinned her to the ground. He snarled in her face and she laughed back at him. She wigged her head side to side and tried to nipped at his hands, but they were out of her reach.
Three of her werewolves each grabbed one of his limbs and attempted to pull him off of her. Brian kicked one of his legs loose and used his strength to push one of the werewolves to the other side of the room.
Freddie wound up like a baseball batter and whacked the werewolf with his mic stand. The werewolf fell to the ground in a heap.
John jumped to Roger and tore the werewolves off of his arms.
"Freddie?" John called.
Freddie looked over and tossed the bottom half of the mic stand to Roger. Roger spun it like one of his drum sticks and shoved it into the lower abdomen of a nearby male werewolf. The werewolf shrieked in pain and doubled over on the ground.
Freddie hit another one of the werewolves and started to make his way to Brian. Brian slammed a werewolf into the wall.
To the left of Brian, the Alpha rose to her feet and lunged at Freddie with her mouth open wide and drooling.
John jumped in front of Freddie and intercepted the Alpha. She howled in frustration and sank her teeth into his arm. John gasped and collapsed onto the ground.
"No!" Brian screamed.
John pounded on the floorboards and scrunched up his face in agony. The Alpha gloated over him and Brian watched in horror as John started to shift.
Freddie yelled, "John!"
"Don't look, Freddie, please!" John begged through clenched teeth, "Keep fighting. I'll be alright."
"Deaky, focus, darling, you can beat this!" Freddie screamed.
The Alpha cackled and cooed, "Listen to the swans sing together!"
John hugged his stomach and groaned. He squeezed his eyes shut and his groans sounded more and more like wolf whines as his shift progressed.
Freddie, respecting John's wish, turned away and continued playing cricket with his broken mic stand and the heads of the werewolves.
John's eyes shone up at Brian as wolf hair started to grow down his face.
Brian nodded his head and picked up one of the werewolves by him like he did with John at the beach and threw it like a basketball chest-pass onto the Alpha. The Alpha yelped and tripped onto the floor.
Brian takes a moment to catch his breath and looked over to the other side of the room. Freddie and Roger stood back to back hitting the werewolves that swarmed around them like angry bees.
"They just keep coming back, Fred!" Roger yelled.
"I know dear, I know," Freddie consoled, "Just keep hitting them until they stay down."
"I got one to stay down for a bit," Roger bragged.
Brian jogged over and the werewolves dispersed to the other side of the room in fear.
"How did you do that?" Brian asked.
Roger panted and shrugged. "I dunno," he said in-between breaths, "Let's just say he may need to see a urologist."
Brian tilted his head and asked, "A what?"
Freddie scoffed, "A dick and ballsack doctor, Brian."
Brian turned around and saw the werewolves and the Alpha huddled around the center of the room.
He thought, What are they— John!
He heard John's wolf form growl and Brian let out an involuntary whimper.
"A full shifter!" cried the Alpha.
Tension mounted in the room and Brian held out his arms in front of Freddie and Roger like a mother goose. He could only see John's furry legs and hear his growls within the circle.
The Alpha raised one hand again and the room fell silent in attention.
She commanded, "Get me his heart!"
A/N- It has been a stressful week! I plan on having the next chapter out by Thursday. It is completely planned out and will certainly have you hanging on the edge of your seat. Predictions for what is to come are welcomed and encouraged :)