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| Jackson |
It was so much different than before. All Jackson felt when the amulet locked around his neck was rage and bloodlust so strong that it was like he'd been starved for months. He could feel his fangs yearning to sink into the throat of whoever was closest, and he was so angry. He'd been shot, locked away, and used as bait; he was tired of being so weak and useless. The inimă urged him to show everyone who and what he really was, and he didn't feel any hesitation.
Jackson felt the creature inside him wake from an eighteen-year-long sleep. It hurt, but he didn't care. The flesh on his back tore, his shoulder blades cracked, and as Jackson grimaced and gripped the material covering the cage floor, something burst from his back, sending a rain of blood splattering onto the inside of the cage and the snow surrounding it.
But it wasn't over yet. Jackson grunted as he looked over his shoulder, and when he saw a pair of wing-like bones attached to his back, he frowned in confusion. The inimă glowed brightly, and while Jackson's bloodlust and desire to kill increased, he watched the bones adorn black scaley skin and crimson membranes. The wings protruding from his back looked almost like those of a dragon, and they were so large that their carpal claws almost reached the cage roof.
His head started aching. The pain got worse with every second, and his bloodlust did nothing to help. He gritted his teeth and gripped the sides of his head with his hands as he yelled in agony; he heard his skull cracking, and he felt something sharp cut through his skin above both his ears. Blood trickled down his face and onto the floor, and when Jackson pulled his bloody hands from his head and leaned onto them, he watched his nails morph and sharpen to look just like the black claws he saw at the tips of Lord Caedis' fingers, but Jackson's didn't change colour.
Jackson's ears were ringing, his aching body trembled, and his heart was racing. The inimă kept pulsing, and the feeling of its warm, enticing ethos quickly relieved the pain. The power gushed through his body like fire, and as Jackson's bloodlust returned, he lifted his head and set his eyes on the closest living thing.
"Jack?" Wilson asked. There was a desperate look on his face like he'd been trying to get Jackson's attention without success.
Although Jackson knew the huge tiger was his friend, it didn't make him feel any less eager to break free, get over to him, and drain every ounce of blood from his body.
But then he shifted his sights to the tent. He could hear Lewis grumbling to himself as he got up, and when he came out of his tent and saw Jackson, the man frowned in confusion.
"What the fuck is this?!" he yelled, cocking his shotgun.
Jackson wasn't going to let Lewis or Riker's hunters hurt Damon's pack anymore. He focused on his desire to kill them, and as the inimă used his anger to increase his power, Jackson used his new wings to propel himself forward. The silver bars shattered like ice, and Jackson reached Lewis before he could even think to pull the trigger.
He didn't hesitate. Jackson savagely sunk his fangs into Lewis' neck, and the moment the man's blood touched his tongue, a feeling of utter delight surged through Jackson's body. He bit harder, forcing the grunting, gurgling man down onto his back. Jackson nailed the man's hands to the ground with his wing's carpal spikes, keeping him from attempting to fight him off, and then Jackson drank...and drank...and drank. He gulped Lewis' intoxicatingly sweet blood down as fast as he could, each mouthful pulling him deeper into the overwhelming power the inimă gave him.
But once the man's body was drained, Jackson didn't feel satisfied. The monster inside him wasn't satisfied. He needed more. It needed more. He could feel it clawing under his skin—it wanted out, and Jackson wanted to give in.
He pulled his fangs from the man's neck, and as he folded his new wings against his back, he looked around the camp. There was a muto in a cage not far from him...and a demon hound in another. But neither of them appealed to his hunger. He needed human blood.
And he seemed to know exactly where to find it.
Jackson let his demon take control. He burst towards the trees and followed the scent of a nearby human. His vision started shifting, and as everything became different shades of blue, he set his eyes on the red silhouette of a man up ahead. Crimson waves pulsed from the guy's body in time with his pulse, which echoed through Jackson's head. His new vision let him see the man's heart, his veins, and his nervous system, and it let him pick out the perfect place to strike before he even reached him.
He could see the human had a healing wound on his left shin; he sped up, used his wings to propel himself forward, and before the man had any idea he was coming, Jackson mercilessly plunged his right wing's carpal spike into the man's healing leg. The guy tried to yell, but Jackson slammed his hand over his mouth as he pinned him on his back, and then he sunk his fangs into his neck.
Jackson groaned in relief, downing the man's blood as fast as he could. But then he heard voices and heartbeats. He could smell more humans. The clink of chains, the groan of stretching springs, and the rumbling of an engine. He knew the rest of the hunters were nearby; they were setting their traps...and Jackson—no...the demon the inimă set free from his body was going to kill them all.
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| Damon |
This was it. His pack were closing in. The hunters were up ahead, and before he could get to Jackson, Damon had to make sure not one of them was left standing.
But before he could give Tokala's team to signal to move in, something raced through the trees a hundred yards ahead so quickly that it left a storm of kicked-up snow in its wake.
He crouched into the snow, and his pack did the same, taking cover.
"What the fuck was that?" Alastor panicked.
"Shh," Rachel hushed.
Damon searched the trees from where he lay, but he couldn't see what ran past. He could smell blood, though. A lot of blood. And people were screaming. Something was snarling. Gunfire.
What the hell was going on? Could it be Sebastien? Damon concentrated...and that was when he realized that he could feel Jackson's aura.
He wanted to get up and run to him. His instincts urged him to go, but he couldn't leave his wolves. They were in the midst of hunter territory; there could be traps anywhere. He wasn't going to run off and leave his wolves to fend for themselves or risk getting ensnared in silver.
"Alpha?" Brando asked quietly. "What are we doing?"
Damon didn't know what was out there. It could be Sebastien, or it could be something else entirely. Whatever it was, though—if it was hostile—he didn't want to risk it getting to Jackson.
He glanced at his pack. Half of them were on the other side of the hill getting ready to flank; what if they hadn't seen that thing? He scowled and tried to come up with a plan, but he had no idea what he was dealing with.
"We have an unknown entity up ahead," he told his wolves. "Treat it as if it's hostile. Watch each other's backs. We're moving in."
Everyone nodded.
Damon then lifted his head and let out a short, snappy howl, letting Tokala know that there was an unknown hostile nearby but to continue with the plan. Then, he got up and started leading his pack towards Jackson's aura.
But when he cautiously approached the place where he'd seen the entity race past, he stopped and stared at the carnage. Severed limbs, torn-out organs, and mangled corpses lay everywhere. The snow was red, the tree trunks were red, and the only footprints he found were those of the hunters. Could whatever had done this be Caeleste?
"Fucking hell," Wesley gagged. "I've seen some shit, man...but this is like...what the fuck, you know?"
"Shut up," Alastor muttered.
"I don't like this," Enola told Damon. "Whatever did this could still be out here."
"We have to find Jackson," Damon said, heading through the massacre.
His wolves followed, mirroring his movements as he prowled low to the ground and led the way up the hill.
Damon kept all of his senses alert. The gunfire died down, but the screams grew worse. And suddenly, something exploded, shaking the ground at the pack's feet. As everyone braced themselves, Damon looked back at them and made sure each of them was okay.
"What the hell was that?!" Enola exclaimed.
"Do you think it's the Venaticus?" Alastor asked.
"Or maybe Sebastien?" Wesley suggested.
Damon frowned cautiously and continued up the hill. "Keep moving," he instructed.
"What if it's a cadejo?" Brando questioned worriedly. "It could be some new variant we don't know about."
He had a point, but Damon didn't want to stop. Jackson's aura was so close; all he had to do was get to the top of the hill. So, he kept going. He led his pack closer and closer, and when he finally reached the top, he hurried to the edge and stared at what lay below.
Thick black smoke spewed through the treetops. Damon followed it with his eyes to the hunter jeep, which was up in flames. More mutilated bodies lay scattered all over the glade, and in the centre was the creature responsible.
He knew he was looking at a demon. It had wings on its back and horns on its head. It feasted from the neck of the man in its grip, and there was something glowing on the front of its body. The demon had its back to him, so he couldn't see what it was, but the light was crimson...and it felt familiar.
Damon focused harder on Jackson's aura, and when he realized that his mate was somewhere in that glade, terror surged through him. "No," he breathed. And then he let his instincts rule him.
The pack called anxiously to him, asking him what he was doing and where he was going. But he just ran. He ran and ran and ran, rushing down the hill, through the trees, and into the glade.
"Jackson!" he called, searching frantically for him as he burst into the opening.
The demon snarled as it let go of its victim and abruptly turned to face him.
Damon stopped in his tracks. At first, he thought he was going to have to fight the creature...but then he saw its face.
Jackson's face.
"Jackson?" he questioned in confusion.
Jackson lost his ferocious scowl and stood up straight. Two springbok-like horns protruded from the sides of his head above his ears, and the wings on his back looked like those of a dragon. His eyes were as red as the amulet around his neck, and the claws which sat in place of his fingernails were covered in blood and fine pieces of torn flesh.
It was him. Jackson did this.
And Damon didn't know how to react. He was glad to see that Jackson was okay, but...what happened to him? Why did he have horns and wings?
No...he knew the answer. Somehow, Jackson had discovered his demon form. That's what Damon was looking at, and his mate had used it to slaughter what Damon hoped was the remainder of the hunters.
A part of him felt almost proud. Jackson did all of this by himself. He didn't even need his or the pack's help and seeing and knowing that Jackson handled this banished all of Damon's confusion and worry.
"Damon, I—"
Damon shook his head and hurried over to him. "It's okay," he told him as he reached him.
Jackson frowned in confliction and glanced around at the carnage. "I just...wanted them to stop hurting us."
The Alpha shifted into his human form and placed his hand on the side of Jackson's bloody face. He hastily pressed his lips against his and pulled him closer, holding him tightly. "I thought something happened to you," he told him, resting the side of his head against Jackson's. "I couldn't feel you anymore. I was terrified that the hunters...I thought I'd lost you," he uttered, trying to keep his composure. He could hear his pack coming and he wasn't about to cry in front of them.
"I'm okay," Jackson replied, moving his arms around Damon. "I think...the hunters...they shot Sebastien down with a silver net gun or something. They had us in their camp—they were going to use me to lure you all in, and—"
"It's okay," Damon interjected when he heard the distress in Jackson's voice. He leaned back so he could see his mate's face and stared into his shimmering red eyes. "You're okay, and so are we," he said, glancing back at his pack.
Tokala's group also came out of the woods, joining everyone else. They waited a small distance away, gawping at Jackson. Damon knew he was going to have to convince most of them that Jackson wasn't a threat, but he'd save that worry for later.
He stared into Jackson's eyes again. "What happened? How did this happen to you?" he asked, looking him up and down, and he noticed that there was no wound in his leg from when he was shot. "Your leg?"
Jackson exhaled slowly as he shook his head and shrugged. "I...I was in the cage and...it was silver, so I couldn't do anything. But then Sebastien woke up and he told me that I could get the inimă to come to me, and it did. And then...this," he explained, looking over his shoulder at one of his wings. "It healed me, too."
"It helped you find your demon form?" Damon asked.
"I...guess so. It was like...this was hidden inside me since I was a kid, and the inimă...brought it out of me?" he said, but he didn't sound so sure. Why would he? He only discovered he was a demon under two weeks ago.
Damon caressed Jackson's cheek with his fingers. "I'm glad you're okay," he said softly, and then he pulled him into his embrace again. "I won't ever let anyone take you from me again."
"It wasn't your fault, Damon," Jackson said, reciprocating his hug. "I should have seen it coming or moved instead of standing there like an idiot and—"
"Don't blame yourself," Damon said sternly, leaning back to look at his face again. "If this is anyone's fault, it's the Venaticus'. They were supposed to be dealing with these fuckers," he growled, glancing at the slaughtered hunters.
That was when Jackson's eyes widened. "Sebastien—I left him back at the camp. And Wilson."
Damon nodded and looked over at his pack. "We'll get them." Then, he faced Jackson again. "Did you kill them all?"
"I...think so."
"Can you leave this form?" he asked, glancing at Jackson's wings.
"I'm...not sure." Jackson gripped the inimă with his hand and carefully pulled it from his neck. But his wings and horns didn't disappear. "Am I stuck like this?" he asked with distress in his voice.
"Uh...chief, if I may?" came Tokala's voice.
Damon set his eyes on him. "What?"
Tokala gawped at Jackson. "It's...like shifting out of your wolf form. This demon form is a part of you, just like your wolf. You can leave this form the same way you leave your wolf's."
Jackson frowned unsurely and said, "O-okay...well...." He closed his eyes and concentrated, and after a few moments, his horns and wings crumbled into ash and disappeared, leaving him as his normal self. Then, he opened his eyes and checked hastily himself over. He looked over his shoulders, patted the sides of his head, and then examined his hands. "I thought the claws were gonna be permanent like Lord Caedis," he mumbled with a pout.
Damon smiled amusedly. "And you're disappointed?"
"No, actually. I'm glad," he said with a shrug.
The Alpha took his hand and started heading over to his pack with Tokala. "We'll head to the camp and grab those two, and then we're going to meet up with the rest of the pack and get back on course."
"Is everyone else okay?" Jackson asked worriedly.
"Everyone's fine," Damon assured him. "What about Sebastien and Wilson?"
"Wilson's fine, but...Sebastien was all wrapped up in silver chains. I-I don't think he's doing so good. We need to get to him before—"
"We'll get to him," Damon said with a nod, stopping by his pack.
"Do you want me to keep hold of that?" Tokala asked Jackson, nodding at the inimă. "You can put it in my pack."
Damon shifted into his wolf form and said, "No, let Rachel hang onto it again until we get your gear back."
Jackson nodded and put the inimă into Rachel's bag. Then, he shifted into his wolf form.
"Let's go," Damon said. "We don't know if all of the hunters are dead, so be cautious, move quietly, and watch for their traps."
Everyone nodded, and as Damon led the way with Jackson at his side, the pack followed.
Damon was more relieved than he could explain that Jackson was okay, but despite how much he wanted to revel in his relief, now wasn't the time. Sebastien and Wilson were still trapped, and although he despised the muto, Damon would help him. He couldn't let his feelings about anyone get in the way right now. So, he focused on the final task and guided his pack towards the camp.
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