Thursday, December 27, 2012

Bite of Story Thursday

Night Children: Dark Threats

Chapter Six: 1941


Annabelle could see from above that Grace had problems of her own. 

The werewolf called Robert growled at her.  “You waste your time, Princess.”  He kept his eyes on her as they circled each other.  Each one ready to attack the other, they simply glared.  Their hackles raised and a low rumble built up from their diaphragms.  “Join us.  Accept the full power of what you are.”

Grace Faolchú tightened her eyes.  “And disgrace my people?  The Clan Faolchú has stood in Dracula’s way for centuries.  I’m ashamed that any wolf would serve your dark master.  Dracula and Hitler are both foul tyrants whom will be destroyed.  You can bet on it.”

In her werewolf form, Grace appeared thin but healthy.  The attacking werewolves all dwarfed her due to her smaller size.  She was roughly the same height as Roland and possessed his defiant temper.  Despite being two different creatures of the night, Roland and Grace seemed perfect for each other.

Her opponent smiled a toothy grin.  “You would do well to join up.  We’ll find your precious clan.  And when we do, I’ll take your head to your brother Coinín as a trophy.  He’s the king of your tribe now, correct?”

She grinned as well.  It took a lot more than false bravado from one of Dominic’s trained mutts to get under her fur.  “You’re welcome to try.”

The werewolf lunged.  Grace dropped to the ground and darted between his legs.  She flipped, grabbed the extra fur on his back, pulled herself up and slashed at his eyes and throat.  He let out a dreadful gasp as she bounded off his shoulders and somersaulted in the air.  Grace outstretched her feet, landing on a table.  She picked up a silver knife with a napkin and crouched, ready for his attack.

Already healing, the monster charged.  He swung his massive arms upward and brought them down onto the wooden table.  She sprung up and back.  Grace landed, behind the shattered table, crouched low on the ground.  She winced at the heat coming through the napkin.  One slip and the silver could permanently burn her.

Robert threw aside the broken table and snapped at her with his massive jaws.  She darted to the right, clawing his side, and then jammed her knife through his chest.  He fell to his knees, now human with an expression of shock plastered across his face. 
Grace’s chest caved inward with her ragged breathing.  She smiled just before another werewolf smacked her into a wall.  She dropped to the ground, unconscious. 


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