Torment (Primal Progeny Book 1) (4 page)

Without averting his gaze his voice was firm and commanding as he addressed his wife.

‘Elise…’

The beast snarled and moved forward a pace.

‘I’m going to need you to grab the boy and run when I say.’

The creature’s fur bristled as it crept closer still.

‘Run to safety, lock yourselves away. Call the police. I love you.’

Elise nodded dumbly in response ‘I love you too’ she croaked, terror seizing her vocal chords as she watched the animal step clear of the cover of the sofa.

Bruce tensed, his eyes darting to the terrified figure of his wife.

‘NOW!’ He roared, his finger jerking at the trigger. The sound of gunshot filled the house, and a snarling so savage that she could not fight the instinct to flee.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion as Elise snatched up her son and ran for the bedroom, and what Hunter saw over her shoulder would be burned into his mind forever.

The lounge was bathed in rich summer evening light, the back door wide open and dust motes swirling in the air. The sofa lay upturned, the seats scattered across the floor and claw marks ripped across them. In the centre of the room his father was frantically trying to reload his gun, stepping backwards with a look of terror carved into his features. Advancing across the room towards him was the beast, its blonde fur bristling and its snout creased into a hideous snarl. It was wounded, spilling blood onto the floor from a wound on its side but still it plowed onwards. It would not be denied its prey.

Just as Elise tore into the bedroom and slammed the door Hunter saw it leap, throwing itself through the air at his daddy’s stumbling form.

*****

Practically throwing Hunter onto the mattress Elise darted around the bed and grabbed the receiver of the telephone on the bedside drawers. With trembling fingers she dialed the emergency number and crouched down behind the bed.

Clutching her son’s arm she dragged him to her and pulled him onto the floor.

‘Under the bed!’ She frantically ordered ‘get under the bed Hunter NOW! Get under the bed!’

Hunter did as he was told out of sheer terror, scrambling under the wooden frame and tugging down the frilled bed sheet to hide himself. Scuttling across the floorboards to the wall where the bedhead rested he curled into a tiny ball. Although his mother had not instructed it he knew that he should remain silent, long buried instincts surfacing and prompting him to hold his tongue.

Elise huddled down behind the bulk of the bed; phone in hand, staring intently at the door over the mattress. Her attentions were torn between the ringing on the far end of the line and the sound of the creature clawing its way down the hallway. Her panicked eyes faded in and out of focus as she listened to it drawing ever nearer. She had heard no screams but the lack of further gunshot filled her with dread, she prayed that her husband had fled for help.

The operator clicked onto the line suddenly and began reciting her speech, snapping Elise out of her trance enough to notice that she had not locked the door! Interrupting the woman on the line she whispered hoarsely in terror.

‘I need the police, the police and an ambulance. There’s something in my house, some kind of wild animal. It attacked my husband and I can hear it coming for us.’

The operator audibly sighed ‘calm down ma’am and tell me your location, we’ll send someone out as soon as we can. Would you say it’s an emergency?’

Elise was gripping the receiver so tightly that her hand hurt; her eyes never left the door. ‘Haven’t you heard me?’ she hissed ‘it’s a wild animal! Its killed –’

A scraping sound against the far side of the door cut her short. Dropping the receiver she could faintly hear the operator calling ‘ma’am, ma’am?’ as she ran for the door. She crashed into it and slammed the lock into place, jumping back at the angry snarl that resulted.

Running back around the bed she snatched up the phone and tried not to let panic fill her at the sounds of the creature snuffling around the doorframe. She watched frozen in terror as the shadows cast under the door shifted, the sound of its claws raking the floorboards sending chills down her spine.

She babbled a panicked stream of words into the receiver in her hand. ‘There’s some kind of wild animal in my home, it has us trapped in the bedroom and it’s trying to get in –’

The door shuddered against the frame, accompanied by a loud exhale of air.

‘It’s going to break in, my husband shot at it but… My son is here with me, he’s hiding under the bed, please get someone to check under –’

The door burst open, Elise screamed and the receiver tumbled from her hand.

On the end of the line the operator called frantically but Elise did not hear her. For what seemed like an age mother and beast stared into each other’s eyes; their gazes locked in what Elise slowly realised would be her final moments.

From his hiding place Hunter could see on one side of the bed his mothers feet planted firmly in place, and on the other the hooked claws and thickly furred paws of the thing that was in their house.  He watched in terrified silence as it slowly moved forward a pace; the sounds of its growl of anticipation filling his mind and pushing all logical thoughts out with simple blind fear. At that moment only three existed in the world to him. Himself, the beast and his mother.  He watched his mother step back, blocking herself into a corner; he wanted to drag her under the bed but could not force his frozen muscles into life. 

The beast made a sound akin to a rumbling chuckle, and he turned his head just in time to see its paws leave the ground in a bounding leap. Drool tinted red splashed onto the ground as it sprang; and something small, red and sticky with goo landed with a wet splat on the floorboards.

Hunter swallowed and shuffled back until he was pressed against the cold wall. His eyes wide in terror he saw his mother stumble backwards and fall. Tears spilling from his eyes as she clawed one hand under the bed. But as she scrambled for cover the beast’s head lowered into view and its jaws wrapped about her exposed calves. She screamed in agony as its long teeth slid through her flesh, tearing through her soft skin with terrifying ease. Her nails scratched at the floor as she desperately tried to pull herself away, but the beast had other ideas. Shifting its grip it dug one clawed hand into the small of her back, easily pinning her to the ground as it sunk its fangs into her thigh and tore back its head with a snarl.

Her eyes rolled as her brain tried to process what was happening to her, blood pooling on the wooden floor around her as her vision began to fade away. Her dry throat managed to croak out one final instruction to her terrified son as she was jerked backwards.

‘Run.’

Terror caused Hunter to hesitate, but he needed no second bidding. Scrambling out from under the bed he stumbled and ran for the door. He saw the beast lift its head to observe his flight but he did not turn to look. He heard its claws clicking across the room as he ran, the sound of its pursuit spurring him on. He did not know where he was running to but that was not important, escape was import –

His racing thoughts were silenced by the sound of a deep-throated growl right behind him.  It was catching him! It was catching… It was going to catch…

He spun around and faced the beast as it came for him.

‘MY DADDY!’ He screamed, and it slowed its pace.

“MY MUMMY!’ and it stopped, staring at him with strands of drool clinging to its maw. Its eyes sparkled with intelligence and perhaps amusement as it stared down at its after dinner snack.

Hunter stared it right in the face and screamed ‘I HATE YOU!’ as its icy blue eyes bored into him.

It licked it blood splattered chops dramatically slowly and it lowered its head and stalked forwards, seeming to enjoy the boy’s reaction.

Hunter became aware of a wet warmth spreading down from between his legs as it inched closer, every detail of its appearance burning into his brain.

It was huge. Tall and slender but muscular with it. Its fur was a tan colour, like dark blonde hair, and its eyes a cold shade of icy blue. Its arms were longer than its legs, and ended in furred hands with long slender fingers tipped with terrible claws. Its movement was hunched, similar to a gorilla, though its hands were splayed rather than curled into fists. As it moved with its head lowered its shoulder blades cut high above its back in savage points; mirroring the sharp angles of its hip bones set above a scraggy, limp tail.

Most of all however he was transfixed by its head, it was handsome and terrible all at once. It looked so much like a wolf, and yet sharper somehow. Something about the angles of its muzzle and the look behind its eyes betrayed a savagery unlike any other. Its canines were that little bit too long, its ears set slightly low, and its eyes… They were human and cruel, unmistakably so.

But Hunter’s infant eyes simply saw a monster, like something out of a nightmare.

Its muzzle creased into a snarl as it edged slowly forward, savoring his fear as blood dripped down its chest from the pink and white display of its snarling mouth.

Hunter tried to back away but his terror stricken limbs disobeyed him and he tumbled backwards. The beast sprang at him, teeth sinking easily into his torso as it landed heavily on its feet. His throat erupted into blood curdling screams as it ripped into him with intent, he tried desperately to scramble away but it snatched at him with its claws and grabbed his head between its jaws.

Growling and snarling it shook him like a ragdoll, whipping its head from side to side and flinging him against the wall. Every inch of his tiny body hurt, and as blood streamed from his wounds he could feel himself slipping away. Everything grew dark and his eyes flickered shut as he slid into unconsciousness.

The beast looked on, watching the little boys breathing slow and licking its lips. Content that its victim was on the verge of death it turned and slunk back towards the larger body waiting for it in the lounge, only then beginning to feel the effects of the shot to its side. It knew it had to eat to heal and so it filled its belly with the softer parts of what remained of Bruce before slinking away into the forest, wounded but sated.

Chapter 4

Hunter remembered nothing after hitting the wall, other than what he had been told by his grandmother when he was old enough to truly understand. He had been put in the care of his paternal grandmother, who had raised him into a polite and helpful young man. He had many happy memories of their time together whilst he was growing up; but sadly thanks to the nature of the human mind one conversation would always be at the forefront of his mind.

Up until the age of ten he had almost constantly bothered her to find out the details of that night that he had not seen. He would ask her about it almost every day and eventually she had worn down enough to tell him what she knew.

He remembered with crystal clarity the way her eyes had slowly filled with tears as she spoke. How he had watched that one solitary droplet carve a slow path down the wrinkled map of her cheek.

She had sat him down before she spoke and delicately perched herself down on the floral sofa next to him. Her frail hands clasped tightly on her lap as she struggled to recount the tale of her own son’s death.

By the time she had finished speaking tears were streaming silently down Hunter’s face, but neither moved to brush them away for quite some time.  The conversation bought to the surface memories his mind had carefully buried to protect his young mind’s sanity. He remembered the confusion and distress he had felt upon being told of his past with a sad shake of his handsome head.  She had told him about how he was found crumpled and barely breathing against the wall, just metres from his dead parents. How a wild animal had attacked and killed them, and how the police officer who had found him had rushed him to the hospital and called her. How she had rushed to him and spent the next week by his bedside. She had cried with him that his mother and father had gone away and marveled at the fight in her little grandson; and when the time had come she had taken him home.  They had co-existed in a happiness shrouded by loss for many years before Hunter had left to attend university.  He had been lucky in that he had managed to find a place at his most local educational facility; and had used money that had been put aside for him to rent out a small place not far from his grandmother’s house.

He had enjoyed his studies, and still marveled at how he had managed to keep his condition under wraps. It had all started when he had been 20, which he considered to be lucky in a way as he was terrified of what he could have done to his grandmother had it started sooner. As it was he had managed things with relative ease thanks to having his own space… He had had to do a lot of repairs over those few years, but he had never harmed anyone and of that he was extremely proud.  Despite his monthly disruptions he had still managed to graduate highly marked, and was glad of it as he felt his business course had helped him greatly in his adult life. He had settled down almost instantly into a comfortable self-employment as a general handyman, and greatly enjoyed his work.

But he could not lay and daydream all day, and so with a shake of his head he clambered out of the bathtub and snatched up his waiting towel.  He rubbed the soft material roughly over his face and scrubbed it over his hair with a sigh. As he worked on drying off his muscular body his mind worked through what he had to do that day, and how he wished his list of jobs was shorter!

He had guttering to clean on one of the largest houses in the village, and the grounds of the same house to mow. He had some fencing to fix at one of the local livery yards; and had volunteered himself to help lay the new wooden flooring at the village hall. His grandmother had always enjoyed tea and coffee evenings there with the other local elderly ladies, and he knew that had she been alive his helping would have made her happy. He wished it could have been another day though… He ached terribly and his first two jobs were physical enough without being hunched over for hours afterwards. Still, he had promised his services and was not one to go back on his word.

Neatly folding his towel over the side of the bath he quickly brushed his teeth and ran a comb through his hair; then ambled through the cabin towards his bedroom as naked as the day he was born. It was always slightly chilly in the cabin, but he did not rub at the goose bumps, which erupted, on his skin. Nor did he pay heed to the tightening feeling in his groin, as his body attempted to draw his more sensitive parts to an area of more warmth. He was used to the cold that seeped into the old wooden building, and found it helped to drag him back into a more human frame of mind. The wolf did not feel the cold as he did, and actually feeling a shiver usually managed to comfort him that he was fully returned to himself… Though obviously he could not strut around the village in the nude… No matter how much the local women might like him to.

He chuckled at that thought as he pulled a clean black t-shirt over his head, concealing his impressive abs. Despite his scars he had always been quite a hit with the ladies. Though he liked to imagine it was down to his dashing good looks, he knew it was far more likely to be a result of the fact that he actually listened to them… As well as the pheromones the wolf in him produced.

Rifling through his chest of drawers he located a clean pair of boxers and miraculously two matching socks; topping off the extremely casual outfit with a pair of torn and faded jeans. He never dressed smartly for work having ruined so many shirts and jeans over the years. Manual labor was not a job for suits and ties, besides which he thought the slightly scruffy look suited him. He looked like the hard worker that he was and that suited him down to the ground.

Leaving his rather sparsely decorated bedroom, he ambled down to the kitchen with a rumbling stomach. He flicked on the kettle immediately when he entered the room, almost out of habit. Watching steam begin to rise from the kettle top he rubbed the stubble on his chin thoughtfully, and contemplated his choices for breakfast.

After a moment lost in thought he settled on simple honey on toast and stuffed four slices of bread into his family sized toaster.  His job was very physical and he burned a lot of calories throughout the day; beside which his metabolism seemed to have sped since his first transformation… Two slices had never seemed like enough.

He made his tea while the toaster did its work and had just enough time for one long, grateful sip before the toast popped. He spread it thickly with sweet set local honey and ate it as it came, as whole slices; leaning over the counter top and not bothering with a plate.

Once he had finished he brushed the crumbs into the bin and dumped his used mug unceremoniously into the sink. Stuffing his feet into the thick black work boots that waited by the door, and slamming it carelessly behind him as he left.

It was still early but he hoped to get started as soon as he could with a view of arriving home in time to hop into bed by 11o’clock.

Hunter drove the few miles to the village in total silence with his mind wandering to all manner of things, as he enjoyed the familiar tunes of his heavy metal music. The heavy notes and tones filled the cab of his faded red van, and he smiled to himself at the familiar vocals of his favourite band. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel and bobbed his head a little; he enjoyed his time in the van with only his music for company.

It took around 20 minutes for him to reach the village were he parked up outside the residence of his first client of the day, and fished his mobile phone out of the glove box. He wasn’t especially fond of mobiles, which was why his was kept permanently in the van. It was only a work phone after all, besides which he had nobody really who might need to reach him in an emergency since the death of his grandmother. He had a landline that worked perfectly just in case, not that it received many calls either.

Having dialed the number he sat with his elbow propped on the van door and listened half to the repetitive ringing on the line, and half to his music. His free hand poised over the volume button on the stereo ready to turn it down when they answered.

Only no answer was forthcoming. The first time he tried it rang off, and the second time the tone suggested he had been cut off intentionally.

With an agitated sigh he clambered out of the van and made his way up the driveway, his feet crunching loudly on the gravel. He flickered his gaze over the grounds and pulled a face at the amount of work that needed doing… He didn’t know why they didn’t just contract him to visit more often. It would cost them less if they just consented, as he worked on an hourly rate; but they just would not agree to it no matter how much gentle pressure he applied.

Shaking his head he reached the doorstep and tried unsuccessfully to peer through the curtained door side windows.  Unable to see anything he pressed the old brass doorbell and stepped back to wait for an answer. Shortly he heard the faint shuffle of slipper encased feet making their way to towards him, his sensitive ears picking up sounds that others would never have been able to detect. 

Straightening up he smiled broadly as the door creaked open before him, the little old lady who stood behind it peering up at him through thick glasses returned his smile warmly. She swung the door open and stepped back to allow him passage into the house with a beckoning hand gesture.  Her voice was slightly husky with age as she greeted him

‘Oh Hunter, is it that time already? Come in, come in! Shall we have a cup of tea before you get started?’

Hunter stepped into the hallway and gently closed the door behind him. ‘That would be lovely Mrs. Fitch. You know you had me worried there for a second, I tried to call you twice and couldn’t reach you.’ He was grateful for the offer of tea before work but he had been on edge when he had not received an answer to his calls, and it would take a moment for that feeling to subside. Both of the Fitch’s were in their eighties and he could not help but worry for their safety in such a large home.

Mrs. Fitch shook her head and led Hunter down the hallway, again beckoning that he should follow with one twisted arthritic finger. ‘You’ve no reason for concern, we’re both just fine.’ She tutted ‘just because we’re old it doesn’t mean we’re daft you know!’

Hunter chuckled as she continued on with her explanation ‘No, there was just a horrible story on the news that caught our attention, and you know what Harold is like… He cut the phone off because it was irritating him while he was trying to listen.’

Hunter nodded ‘the main thing is that there’s nothing wrong, and I quite sympathize with him as I’m not a fan of telephones myself really.’

Mrs. Fitch rolled her eyes at him as they entered the kitchen where her husband was seated at the breakfast bar. ‘Did you hear that Harold?’ She called.

Harold spun around in his seat and screwed up his face in confusion. ‘What?!’

She shook her head and tapped at her ear ‘Turn your hearing aid up you old coot!’ She instructed.

Harold fiddled momentarily with the device behind his ear before responding ‘Well that wasn’t very polite was it Mrs.?’

Mrs. Fitch laughed ‘it just irritates me having to repeat myself Harold! I said… Did you hear that?’

Harold shook his head ‘Hear what?’

‘Hunter here’ she gestured as she spoke ‘agrees with you about telephones.’

Harold beamed at the apparently younger man before him. ‘Well its good to hear that some of the younger generation have some sense! Horrible things aren’t they, noisy little intruders into your privacy. I like peace and quiet you know, if you want to talk to somebody you should pop round for a cup of tea and a chinwag; that’s my opinion.’

Hunter nodded ‘my sentiments exactly Mr. Fitch.’

‘How many times must I ask you to call me Harold?’ Came the reply, before the elderly man turned his attentions back to his wife. ‘Anne did I hear you mention more tea? I’m sure I did…’ He winked at her with a crooked, cheeky smile.

Mrs. Fitch tutted and shuffled to the sink to fill the kettle, placing it on the cooker top to boil she chuckled quietly. ‘There, are you happy now bossy boots? I was actually offering it to our lovely young handyman here but seeing as I’ve already put the kettle on to boil I suppose I can make you another cup.’

Harold nodded in approval ‘Oh good, I do like a nice cup of tea or two in the morning!’ He looked over to Hunter and gestured to the chair next to him. “Come and take a seat young man, you’re making me nervous lurking in the doorway like that! Did you see the news this morning?’

Hunter shook his head and gratefully took the seat that was offered to him, his aching body thankful for the brief rest. ‘Not yet sir, I haven’t had the chance, though Mrs. Fitch tells me it was not a very pleasant story?’