Larry Correia: Monster Hunter Alpha

And from the look of determination in the red werewolf’s eyes, he could tell that she was thinking about it.

“Regeneration is a spectacular gift. Except you can’t heal around a foreign body. Look at all that blood. I’m amazed you’re still alive.” He reached out one hand and used the gift that his mother’s line had bestowed upon him. “Calm…calm. Let me take your pain,” he whispered. “That’s all right. It’ll be over soon.” The female relaxed. She quit tugging on the bloody holes in her legs. She exhaled as his peace relaxed her, and began to shift back to her human form. He gently stroked her hair. “That’s right. It’ll be over soon.” He waited patiently until she’d returned to her original state.

Once she was fully human, he removed his power and let all the pain come rushing back at once. Heather screamed.

The agony had to be excruciating. “What’re you doing?” she hissed through gritted teeth.

“Taking back what’s mine. Come on. This won’t take long. Stand up.” He grabbed her by the old leather coat she was wearing and hoisted her off the rebar. She screamed as the metal tore free. Holding her in his arms like a baby, he carried her back to the shaft. She had lost too much blood to fight anymore. Once the stolen essence had been taken back, he’d toss her down with the others that had dared fight him. It seemed appropriate that way. Someday, in a world full of werewolves, they’d build a shrine on top of this place.

“Heather!” A single, feeble man stood on the catwalk. He was old, pathetically weak, and wouldn’t have too many more years on this world, even if the Alpha wasn’t about to destroy him for meddling. “It’s not too late! I know how to beat him!”

“Somebody kill him already,” the Alpha ordered, but then he remembered. The entire pack was dead. One more thing he was going to have to rebuild. He unceremoniously dumped Heather on the floor next to the shaft. “Guess I’ll do it myself.”

“Heather! It’s in your grandpa’s journal.” The old man lifted a small leather-bound book and waved it over his head. “On the very first page.”

Interesting. It would be useful to know exactly how some mere soldiers had been able to defeat the great Koschei. The Alpha picked up a five-foot length of steel girder and tested the balance. He walked toward the human.

“Read the words. Use it!” The old man threw the book at the female. It was actually a very good shot, and the book landed only a few feet from her. She showed surprising fortitude as she dove for it, dragging her torn leg behind.

He looked back at the intruder. He would deal with Heather in a moment. The Alpha hurled the heavy beam through the air. It missed the man but struck the catwalk hard enough to shear all the rusty bolts from the wall.

“Aino!’ the female cried.

The entire catwalk assembly broke free and collapsed to the floor with a terrible crash. A cloud of dust rolled across the room. He turned back to the female. She had rolled onto her side and had the book open before her. She was panicked, desperate, as she tried to find a way to stop him.

The Alpha strolled over and snatched the book from her hands. “What’ve we got here.” The handwriting was loose and sloppy. He picked a random spot on the first page.

See, I bear a curse. You learn to deal with it, or it deals with you. Crying about it won’t change a thing. Embracing it will destroy you. I have stared into the face of evil, and I’ve been the face of evil. I’ve done some bad things in my life. Good thing I’ve lived a long time, because I’m still trying to even that score. Some folks would call it penance. I call it my job.

I am a Hunter. I am a Monster. I was born Raymond Earl Shackleford Jr., son of the greatest Hunter to ever live, in the year 1900. I’ve held many names since.

Today they call me Harbinger.

This wasn’t the journal of Aksel Kerkonen. The Alpha looked up from the page at the female. Treachery ran deep in her family. She held a different book in her hands and was reading aloud from it.

It was a spell. The air crackled with raw energy. “Bitch.” He reached for the true book.

But a claw came over the side of the pit, hooked him by the leg, and pulled him over the edge.

Earl had one of those dreams. Where you were falling. And you bolt up in bed, wide awake at the last second.

Only this wasn’t a dream, and he’d hit the floor hard enough to break every bone in his body.

He lay there, staring up. There was a single perfect square of light, far above. It seemed so far away. He must’ve slowed himself quite a bit on that cable, or he’d have been dead on impact.

Earl reached for the wall. One hand wouldn’t respond. He gasped in pain when he reached over and touched the bone sticking out of his forearm.

Got to find a way out. Got to move.

He couldn’t feel his legs.

Well…shit.

They say your life flashes before your eyes when you’re close to death. Earl didn’t buy that. He’d almost died plenty of times, and he’d never gotten the slideshow. But in those final moments, you did dwell on things…Things left unsaid. Things undone. This time was different. Like this, would have plenty of time to think.

Far above, the Alpha was going to kill Heather. She was a sweet girl. She deserved a chance. Then the Alpha was going to get away, and he was going to keep on killing, only he was going to get better at it. All because he was a jerk-off with daddy issues and delusions of grandeur. He’d learn from that amulet, and he’d get stronger. By the time the world knew what they were facing, it would be too late. He couldn’t even get word to MHI to pick up where he’d left off. The son of a bitch would flood bastardized zombie vulkodlak everywhere.

He’d prayed for a cure. He’d tried to cut a deal with God to be rid of the curse. He’d done everything he could, searched the globe, turned over every rock looking for a way to end it, but never found anything. So he’d accepted his lot in life and made the best of it. He’d used his curse to be a warrior for good. He’d made kicking the shit out of evil into a business, and he’d saved a thousand times more innocent lives than he’d taken, but that entire time, he would have traded it all to be human once again.

Got my wish. Lord, you’ve got a very ironic sense of humor. He would’ve laughed if he could have formed the sound. Here he was. Human again…only he’d be dead soon. And all the work he’d done, all the battles he’d fought, they’d all be for nothing. Guess I was wrong to waste all that time wishing for something when I should’ve just made better use of the gifts you gave me.

“ Harb…inger… ”

The voice was a hoarse whisper. So quiet that the first time he heard it, he thought he was imagining it, or maybe it was an angel come to lead him on. Now, that will be an interesting judgment day!

“Harbinger…”

Nikolai? He became aware of the presence next to him. The voice was inhuman, struggling to form words with a mouth that was filled with fangs and still partially transformed. “I’m dying…”

Obviously. There were limits even to what a werewolf could survive, and three torn-off limbs was well beyond that point. Nikolai being alive was rather surprising. Stubborn Russki bastard. “Me, too,” Earl managed to croak. Fitting. They should’ve died together a long time ago, the last of their breed.

“No…,” Nikolai coughed. “Not yet. Smell…no death…on you.”

Earl lay there, tried to block out the pain, and thought about it. He’d been hurt so many hundreds of times that he could be analytical about his injuries. He knew what broken vertebrae and shattered bones felt like. Nikolai was right. Earl wasn’t dying yet. He could survive this.