Wolf Island (The Demonata 8)

“No. There isn’t time. The werewolves will find the other entrance. They’ll be on us inside an hour.”

“That’s an interesting prediction,” Timas says. “What are you basing it on?”

“Magic.” I lock gazes with Shark. “We have an hour. I can’t open a window that quickly.”

“Try,” he snarls.

I shake my head. “I’d just waste my power. We need to find another way.”

“There isn’t any,” he says icily. “You were our only hope once we chose this cave over the other options.”

“I don’t think many werewolves are going to gather at the other side,” I tell him. “Only the smartest ones have thought of lo

oking for another entrance. I doubt if they’ll share their find with the rest — they’ll want us for themselves. If we can get through those few…”

“What?” Shark laughs cruelly. “Fly out of here? Find another cave?”

“There isn’t one nearby,” Timas says.

“See?” Shark spits.

“But we’re close to water,” Timas adds. “Maybe a three- or four-minute run. The cliff is much lower there than around the compound. We could jump and probably survive the fall. From this point we’re out of sight of those in the compound, so we could swim to another island.”

“Where I could open a window!” I cry, excited.

“I don’t like it,” Shark says stubbornly. “We should stay here and stick to our original plan. You can’t know for sure that they’ll find…”

A vibrating howl stops him. It drifts to us from the narrowest point of the cave. Seconds later we hear the echoes of soft scrabbling sounds, distant, but not distant enough for comfort.

“An hour,” I repeat glumly.

Shark sighs and raises a weary eyebrow at Timas. “You held back some of the explosives?”

“A few, for an emergency,” Timas confirms.

“Good.” Shark cracks his knuckles. “I think we’re going to need them.”

THE FINAL PUSH

WE wait for them to dig through to us. It’s horrible, sitting here helplessly, the sounds of the tunneling werewolves growing louder, coming closer. We can hear them snuffling and whining softly, hungrily. The only positive thing is that there don’t seem to be many of them. It looks like I was right about the smarter few opting to keep us for themselves.

The downside is that the smarter beasts are also the stronger, faster, deadlier creatures. But we’ll happily take the fiercer few over the weaker masses. Shark did an ammunition tally earlier. They’re all down to one rifle each, none of them full, no spare clips. They have handguns that won’t last long. They won’t be able to keep the werewolves back with sustained fire like before. If we have more than a few dozen beasts to deal with between here and the sea, we’ll run dry in no time and it’ll be hand-to-hand combat after that.

While we’re waiting, the glow from Timas’s gun fades, then dies, leaving us in complete darkness. Luckily Timas has already set his explosives, so it doesn’t affect our plans, just our nerves.

The werewolf within me is excited by the closeness of its twisted kin. It wants to dig from this side of the hole and link up with its soulmates. I’m tempted, in a sick way, to unleash it and let it loose on Shark, Meera, and the others. It’s a bit like the feeling I get when I’m standing on a cliff or high building, looking down at a suicidal drop. I start thinking about what would happen if I stepped off, the rush of the fall, the shattering collision, the quiet emptiness of death. Part of me wants to experience the thrill of complete surrender.…

But I’ve always ignored that niggling voice and I ignore it now. Hold tight. Stay focused. Wait.

We can smell them now and hear their labored panting. We’ve moved down the cave, as close to the lowest point as we can crawl. I thought it would have made more sense to stay back from the blast, but Timas insists he knows what he’s doing. “Time is of the essence,” he says. “We have to risk getting singed.”

The werewolves sound like they’re no more than a few feet away. Maybe the first one is already sticking its head through, sliding into our cave. Impossible to tell in the darkness. I want Timas to detonate the bombs immediately, before it’s too late, but he only hums and whistles, waiting… waiting.…

Finally, when I think my nerves are going to snap, Timas whispers, “Shut your eyes, cover your ears, and keep your fingers crossed.” A second or two later the rocks explode outwards. I’m struck by a few chips and stony splinters, but they’re only scratches. Light floods the cave. I open my eyes, but can’t see very far through the dust cloud.

“Go!” Timas coughs, and we crawl on our knees until we can stand and run crouched over.

Scraps of flesh, bones, guts, and hair line the floor. Blood’s everywhere, making it slippery underfoot. My stomach rumbles. It’s been a long time since breakfast. The wolfen part of me would happily tuck in and make short work of the offal.