LITMIR.BIZ

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flushed with embarrassment, but she smiled broadly.

      A crash of noise came from the edge of the clearing and Larissa reappeared. She strode towards the others, blood pumping down her face and neck from a wide gash at her temple, her left arm hanging at an unnatural angle at her side, pain and panic on her face.

      “Are you—” started Morris, but she brushed past him without a glance and stopped in front of Jamie, grabbing his chin and tilting his head back and up. She inspected his neck carefully, and then released her grip. They stared at each other for a long moment, until Larissa turned sharply on her heels, walked over to Kate and kissed her on the cheek.

      Then she sat on the grass, cradling her broken arm in her lap, her crimson eyes glowing in the dark. After a few seconds Jamie walked over and sat down beside her.

      Ten minutes later, they moved on.

      Beams of moonlight shone down through the canopy of the woods, long streams of silver light that gleamed and twinkled in the night air. They made their way along the trail, in the same order they had entered the clearing. Larissa held her broken arm as still as she was able to, pressing it gently to her side. She was a terrifying vision, soaked from head to toe in blood that was starting to harden and crack, giving it the look of flaking war paint. Jamie was similarly coated; he had wiped most of the roadie’s blood from his face, but his uniform was drenched, and the coppery scent of blood hung around him like a cloud, turning his stomach. Kate was pale, as the shock of the things she had seen over the course of this long, bloody night began to settle into her mind, but her face was determined, and she walked steadily. McBride had reset his broken nose, and the blood had stopped flowing. It was badly swollen, and there was a high whistling noise when he breathed, but the Operator cared little for a broken nose, and his eyes were clear.

      Jamie walked next to Larissa, who was floating six inches above the ground so she didn’t jar her broken arm. Neither of them said anything, but every couple of minutes one cast a sideways glance at the other. Kate followed behind, watching them.

      They emerged from the woods at the top of a wide plain, studded with low bushes and tangles of shrubs, that gently sloped downwards before them. The monastery stood at the top of the rise on the other side, a crumbling building of pale stone rising above the row of cliffs that marked the edge of the island. Jamie could hear the distant crashing of waves, and smelled salt in the air. Light blazed from the uneven windows of the monastery, the flickering yellows and oranges that came from open fires.

      They set out across the plain, unaware that one of them had less than three minutes to live.

      Larissa smelt it before she saw it.

      “Something’s coming,” she said. “Something bad. I’ve never smelt anything like it.”

      Adrenaline splashed into six nervous systems.

      Morris, McBride and Stevenson immediately pulled Larissa and Jamie into a circle around Kate. The five members of the Blacklight team scanned the empty plain, their visors sweeping left and right, their weapons at their shoulders.

      For long seconds they stood motionless, silent apart from the sound of their own breathing. Then Stevenson lowered his weapon and turned to his companions.

      “There’s nothing here,” he said.

      A dense tangle of bushes behind the Operator exploded in a shower of leaves and splintered wood as something huge leapt across the dark grass. It growled as it moved on four powerful legs, its yellow eyes glowing, thick ropes of saliva trailing from jaws that were filled with gleaming teeth. It clamped its mouth on Stevenson’s throat and hauled him forward, barrelling into the rest of the team and sending them tumbling across the plain. As he fell, Jamie heard a terrible ripping sound as the creature pulled out a ragged chunk of Stevenson’s neck, and heard the Operator scream in pain.

      He dug his heels into the grass and pushed himself back to his feet. He saw Kate sliding down the slope, heard her shouting for his help, and ignored her. The further she was away from whatever had leapt from the bush, the better. He turned back, ready to run up the slope towards Stevenson, but what he saw at the top of the rise froze him to the spot.

      The Operator was lying on his back, blood gushing from the hole that had been torn in his neck. His face was pale, and his eyes were closed, but Jamie could see the black material of his uniform rising and falling.

       He’s still alive. You have to help him.

      But he couldn’t make his petrified limbs move.

      Standing over Stevenson was a huge grey wolf, as large as a small car. Its coat was thick and tangled, its snout soaked with the Operator’s blood, its eyes gleaming. A terrible smell was emanating from it; a thick fog of spoiled meat and sickness. It looked down the slope at him, and Jamie felt his insides turn to water. Then it threw back its head and howled, a terrible, deafening noise that sounded like damnation. It lowered its mouth towards Stevenson again, the moonlight gleaming off its enormous teeth.

      The crack of gunfire rang across the plain, and the wolf twitched, red blooms of blood appearing along its flank, then howled again. Jamie looked round and saw Morris and McBride making their way up the slope, fire spitting from the barrels of their MP5s.

       Where’s Larissa?

      He looked around wildly, and saw her near the bottom of the slope. She was crouching next to Kate, holding the girl’s face in her hands, and a surge of affection so hot it was almost something else shot through him. He drew his MP5, then ran back up the slope and fell into step next to McBride, who acknowledged him with the briefest of looks. The three Blacklight men pressed forward, their submachine guns screaming in the night air.

      The wolf leapt down from Stevenson’s unconscious body, and roared at them, a sound so gigantic it physically drove Jamie back a step. His ears rang as he stepped forward again, his finger clamped tightly on the trigger of the MP5. Bullets slammed into the wolf, tearing clumps of fur from its coat, spraying dark blood across the grass. Jamie saw a round take one of its eyes out, leaving a neat black hole where the pale yellow ball had been. But the huge animal seemed to barely notice.

      “Take it down!” bellowed Morris. “Take out its legs!”

      Jamie’s MP5 clicked empty. He hauled a new clip from his belt, slammed it into place, and pulled the trigger again. The three Operators concentrated their fire on its left foreleg, and the limb splattered apart, wet chunks of flesh raining to the ground. The wolf howled in pain, and leapt forward, propel ling itself across the grass on its three remaining legs, closing the distance in long, shambling strides. They fired at its right foreleg, bullets flying wide as the creature swayed towards them.

      Ten feet away the wolf dipped, the muscles in its powerful back legs tensing, ready to leap. Then with a sickening tearing noise the right foreleg came apart under the weight of the gunfire, and the leap was a howling, aborted thing. The wolf flopped into the air, screeching in pain, and crashed to the ground before them. They leapt back, out of the reach of the jaws that were snapping blindly at the air, the teeth clamping together over and over with a sound like breaking pottery. The wolf pushed itself forward, its back legs digging into the ground, and they emptied their guns into its exposed underside. Explosions of blood burst from the white fur, and the animal bellowed. Then it lay still, its ruined chest rising and falling, great jets of warm air blasting out of its nose and mouth.

      “Jesus,” said McBride, breathing hard, staring down at the fallen animal.

      Jamie stepped forward slowly, and looked at it. The wolf was lying on its side, its shattered forelegs hanging uselessly, its snout soaked red with blood. Its one remaining eye revolved, looking at nothing.

      “Check on Stevenson,” said Morris, and McBride ran up the slope to the fallen Operator. Jamie walked over next to Morris, and gestured down at the animal.

      “What is it?” he asked.

      “It’s a werewolf,” replied Morris, his eyes never leaving the stricken creature. “An old one. A hundred years, at least.”

      Jamie

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