Lupine Howl: The Complete First Series (All 8 books) Read online

  Lupine Howl:

  The Complete First Series

  (All 8 Books)

  plus BONUS

  The Grid volume I

  by Amy Cross

  Kindle Edition

  Copyright Amy Cross

  All Rights Reserved

  Published by Dark Season Books

  This edition first published: April 2012

  http://amycrossbooks.wordpress.com

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment. If you enjoy it and wish to share it with others, please consider buying them their own copy. Feedback is always welcome. The author reserves all rights in respect of this work.

  Table of Contents

  Book 1: Lupine Howl

  Book 2: The Wolf in the Pit

  Book 3: A Spotter's Guide to Werewolves

  Book 4: Carnival of Wolves

  Book 5: The Architect

  Book 6: Underworld

  Book 7: Ecotone

  Book 8: Defense of the Realm

  Bonus

  The Grid volume I

  Book 1:

  Lupine Howl

  Prologue

  In the beginning, Earth was dominated by three species: the Vampires, the Werewolves and the Others. Eventually, they were joined by humans. The first humans were initially seen as harmless apes; no-one really paid them very much attention at all. In retrospect, that was the first mistake. Soon, humans were overrunning the planet.

  The Vampires eventually fell into a deadly and violent civil war. They all died, except for one who lived on and dedicated his life to ensuring that no more vampires would ever come into existence. It's a fight he still fights today, but his story is told elsewhere.

  Meanwhile the Others, horrified by the death and carnage all around, fled this reality and have never been seen again. For a while, some people expected them to one day return, but it is now generally accepted that wherever they ended up, they are never coming back.

  And the Werewolves? Oh, well... you see, the Werewolves were smart. They made a deal with the humans. And things were just fine, until recently...

  Prologue part 2

  The Loch Lanegan Royal Estate, Scotland, December 31st last year.

  Late one autumn evening, Her Majesty the Queen of England wandered over with a cup of tea to a window at her home in the Scottish Highlands. She looked out at the vast expanse of land, and squinted as she spotted what appeared to be a naked young man running as fast as possible across her lawn.

  “Fucking hell,” she said, raising the teacup to her lips but not quite drinking from it.

  “What is it now?” her husband, the Prince, called from his seat at the writing desk on the other side of the room. He was old, he was tired, he was 90 years old and he had seen pretty much everything in this world at least once.

  “Come and look,” the Queen said, unable to take her eyes off the naked young man. Moments later, a Jeep came speeding into view, clearly in pursuit of the runner.

  The Prince shuffled over to the window and watched what was happening. “Oh... fucking werewolves,” he complained, scowling. “This is the last straw. They're getting worse and worse, we're going to have to so something about them”. He turned to the Queen, obvious anger in his voice. “Properly this time, Betty!”

  1.

  Soho, London, January 1st this year.

  “No, seriously, how old are you?” He keeps pace with me, following me all the way along Dean Street in the late night pouring rain of confusing, complex, uncompassable London. “How old are you? Come on, how old are you?”

  “Go away,” I say, trying not to look at him.

  He steps straight in front of me and grabs me by the shoulders. “Come on, love. How old are you? Eighteen? Nineteen?”

  “Twenty-two,” I say, staring up into his scarred face. “Okay? Now go away!”

  I barge past him, but he persists, following me around the corner. “Seriously?” he asks. “Twenty-two? I hope you don't mind me saying it, but you look fucking good for twenty-two. Nice-looking girl. Where you staying tonight? You got somewhere to sleep?”

  “I'm fine,” I say, crossing the road. My clothes and shoes are already soaking wet, and I'm freezing. It's almost midnight and people are starting to pour out of pubs, clubs and bars. It's not a good time to be out alone, with nowhere to go.

  “I know a place,” he says, still bugging me. “Good place. Safe place. You can sleep there. There's food and stuff. Nice people. You can come with me, if you want. I promise, hands off all the way. I'm just trying to help you, yeah? Just trying to help. Yeah?”

  I stop and turn to him. “I get it!” I shout through the rain. “But I don't want to come with you! Now fuck off!”

  “Oh, Jesus,” he says. “Look, I'm just trying to help. One lonely, messed up person to another. Good faith. I just want to help. You really fancy sleeping out in this?”

  I stand there, staring at him. It's raining so hard, I can barely breathe. I'm drenched, and freezing, and my only plan is to head down to the river and maybe find somewhere dry under a tree in a park somewhere. And that's when it hits me: this guy, this strange guy who looks like he's been in a ton of fights, and who seems seriously pushy, and who stinks of cigarettes, and who looks like he could pull a knife on me at any moment... this guy is actually my best option for the night. So what if he wants a little something in return for a roof over my head for the night? It's only once. It's only one night. And it's better than freezing to death.

  “Okay,” I say, defeated.

  He reaches out a hand. “Alex,” he says, smiling.

  “Jess,” I say. His hand is big, pudgy, warm and coarse. It feels like he has bits of dried glue all over his skin.

  “You coming with me, yeah?” he says, putting an arm around my shoulder and leading me down a side road. As we go, I see a passing man in a suit staring at me with concern. He knows what's going to happen. Well, fuck him. It's alright for that suit-wearing bastard, probably on his way home from a night at the theatre. It's easy for him to judge.

  “You'll be okay here,” says Alex, leading me through a door into what looks like an abandoned black-brick building. It's dark inside, but at least it's mostly dry and not too cold. Drips occasionally fall down onto my head as we make our way deeper inside, eventually coming to a large hallway with a set of stairs leading up to the next floor. “Don't be scared, Alex says ominously, flashing a big toothy grin that I just don't trust. “It's alright”.

  I hope I'm wrong about this.

  We head up the stairs, eventually coming to a large room where a couple of other men are playing card by the light of a small electric lamp. They look up as Alex and I approach them.

  “Found this young lady outside,” says Alex. “Thought she could use a roof over her head for the night”.

  The two men look at me, and they're conspicuously eyeing up my whole body from head to toe. “Alright,” one of them says eventually, seemingly not too impressed.

  I shift awkwardly on my feet. “I can just go to another room,” I say to Alex. “I don't want to disturb you guys. It's really -”

  “Relax,” Alex says, interrupting and immediately unnerving me. “We're friendly. We don't bite. We just figured you could repay the favour by entertaining us a little tonight. Isn't that fair?”

  I stare at him. “I don't really know what you want,” I say.

  Alex grins. “You want to stay here tonight, right?” he asks. “Warm, dry, safe?”

  I nod.

  “Cool,” he says. “That's really the only decision. It doesn't put us out much to have you here. I mean, it puts us out a little, but you can f
ind a way to make that up to us, I guess”.

  The two other men look up from their game of cards for a moment.

  “Here,” says Alex, handing me a two-thirds-empty bottle of vodka. “Have some of this. Not all of it, mind. Share and share alike”.

  I take the bottle, look at it and consider whether it's safe to drink. When I look up, I see that all three of them are staring at me intently.

  “Cheers,” I say, taking a swig. Fortunately, it takes exactly like vodka should, although I'm still not entirely sure it's safe. As I take another swig, I'm frantically trying to work out how far I'm willing to go in this situation. What price am I willing to pay for the security of a roof over my head tonight? I know what these guys want, but how much of it am I willing to let them have?

  “Come here,” says one of the card-playing men, grabbing me and pulling me onto his knee. I can immediately feel his hard cock pushing against the seat of my trousers. “I hope you're better than our last waitress. We had to let her go”.

  I try to pull away from this foul, whisky-stinking old man, but he's got a firm grip on me. The more I struggle, the more I feel his cock grinding against my ass. Just as I'm considering elbowing him in the face and bolting, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small knife, holding it against my stomach.

  “Everybody calm down,” says Alex. “We all want different things, but if we work together, we -”

  He doesn't get to finish that sentence, because I manage to slip away from the guy in the chair and, in doing so, I kick Alex square in the crotch, sending him tumbling to the floor. I fall next to him, but I manage to clamber to my feet and run. I don't look back to see if anyone's following me, but in the dark I can't see the stairs and I end up running towards an open doorway. I run through to the next room, turning immediately and pushing the door shut. I pull a chair over and try to jam it under the handle, but I don't think it's going to hold. I run across the room and through another door, but I pull up as I see something large and human-shaped on the floor. It take a moment before I can work out what I'm looking at, but when I finally understand, I turn and throw up.

  It's a dead girl. She looks to be about my age, and she's naked, with her jagged wound across her throat. She looks fairly fresh, dead for just a day or two. Already, the room smells pretty bad. I guess this is their previous waitress.

  After I've thrown up some more, I turn to look at her again. In the blue moonlight that streams through the broken window, the girl looks almost beautiful, almost alive. It's as if, at any moment, she could just stand up as if nothing has happened.

  I look over at the doorway, my heart beating so fast I feel like I might pass out. I was expecting Alex and his pals to come after me, but there's no sign of them. They seemed pretty drugged up, but I can't imagine they're so relaxed that they'd let me just run off. Still, with no sign of them after a few minutes I creep back towards the door and take a look back into the next room.

  Nothing.

  I have to get out of here, so I edge carefully through the next room. Peering around the corner, I see that the table where the two men were playing cards is now bare. Did they just pack up and leave? I glance back in the direction of the room where I found the dead girl. I guess maybe these guys don't want to hang about and have to explain what happened to her. If the -

  Suddenly an arm is wrapped around my neck and I'm pulled backwards. Someone swings me around and I come face to face with Alex and one of his pals.

  “We were just being friendly,” Alex says. “You took things way too far”. I look over at the dead girl. Alex sees where I'm looking and smiles. “Yeah,” he says, pulling his knife and stepping towards me.

  “Why don't you leave her alone?” says a voice from the other side of the room.

  Alex stops and turns. In the gloom, it's just about possible to make out what seems to be the figure of a man. But it's too dark to make out his features.

  “Who the fuck are you?” Alex asks. “You a tourist? Want to take a picture?”

  “I said, why don't you leave her alone?” the stranger says.

  “Why don't you lay on the floor with your neck sliced open, bleeding to death?” Alex replies. He pulls a blade from his pocket and steps towards the stranger. “Oh, need some help with that?”

  The stranger steps forward, into the light, then smiles and quickly reaches out and grabs Alex's arm, twisting him around and sending him tumbling to the floor. Before anyone can react, the stranger puts his foot on Alex's neck, steps down and there's a loud and sickening crunch. Alex's eyes open wide, and then he's still.

  “I don't like killing,” says the stranger. “But it's horribly necessary sometimes, and one must not shy away from necessary things”. He looks at me. There's something striking about his dark eyes. He's youngish, about my age, with an intense stare, and he seems very confident. “Don't you agree?”

  I manage to slip away from the guy who has been holding me. Instinctively, I go over to stand next to the stranger.

  “Don't be scared,” he says. “There's nothing to be scared of”.

  I smile nervously. “You're not the first person who's said that to me tonight,” I say, glancing down at Alex's corpse.

  “Point taken,” says the stranger.

  There's a sudden clatter as Alex's two friends run as fast as they can. The stranger and I stand and listen as they almost fall over each other running down the stairs.

  “Thanks,” I say, which is something of an understatement. This guy pretty much saved my life.

  He stares at me for a moment. “You shouldn't be here,” he says. “Go home”.

  I look down at Alex's body, then I look over at the dead girl. “What about them?”

  The stranger shrugs. “What about them? They're dead. Boo-hoo. Now leave. If those fuckers come back, I won't save you again”. He turns and walks away.

  “Hey!” I shout, running after him and grabbing his shoulder. “Who -”

  He spins around and – I know this sounds strange – but he seems to growl at me. There's a look in his eyes, just for a moment, that seems darker than anything I've ever seen before. “Don't touch me!” he shouts.

  I back away. “What were you doing here anyway?” I ask.

  “Same as you,” he says. “Looking for somewhere to sleep. I'll have to keep looking”.

  A drip comes through the ceiling and lands on the top of my head. “We could look together,” I suggest. I've only been on the streets for a few hours, but it's clear that I'm going to need to make some friends – some reliable friends – pretty quickly.

  “Go home,” the stranger says again.

  “Can't,” I say.

  “You don't have a family?” he asks.

  I think about my answer for a moment. “I can't go home,” I say eventually.

  “If you have a family,” he says, “go to them. You can't live like this”.

  I take a deep breath and sigh. “Can you help me find somewhere?”

  “No,” he says. “Go home, or you'll end up like her”. He indicates the dead girl on the floor. I look down at her. She seems to be staring up at the window, moonlight reflecting in her dead eyes.

  “I'll go down to the river,” I say. “There's probably someone down there who can...” I don't finish the sentence. It's a stupid sentence. Hell, it's a stupid idea. I don't know what I'll do when I get down to the river. I guess I'll... Fuck it. I turn and walk over to the stairs. “Thanks again,” I say, hoping he'll offer to let me stay.

  “Leave,” he says firmly.

  “Whatever,” I say before noisily walking down to the ground floor.

  As I'm about to go out the door, I start hearing a strange noise from upstairs. It sounds like... like someone doing something on the floor, shifting about. I sneak back to the stairs and carefully creep back to the upper floor. When I'm halfway up, I stand on tip-toes and glance between the wooden slats.

  In the moonlight, the stranger is kneeling by the dead girl. He's leaning over he
r, and he's doing something, but I can't quite work out... It's almost like he's... My eyes widen in horror as I suddenly realise what's happening. He's eating her! As I watch, he's literally biting on her flesh and ripping huge chunks off with his mouth, then chewing the chunks.

  I open my mouth and let out a little gasp, which causes the stranger to notice me. We make eye contact for a moment before I turn and run down the stairs and out the door. I almost collide with a bunch of drunk party-goers on the pavement outside, but I just bounce off one of them, out into the street, and I don't stop running until I reach the river three miles away.

  2.

  I go after her, of course.

  She runs fast, for a human. In the busy streets of London, it is not always possible to keep sight of her. Fortunately, as we weave in and out of the noisy crowds, I am guided more by her scent than by anything else. London is full of smells, and when I first arrived in this cacophonous city I was bewildered, unable to pick out anything from the mess. But I have learnt how to operate even in this terrain, and now I can untangle the thread of any scent even in the most crowded of locations. So, amidst the stink of other humans, their food, their drinks, they cigarettes and drugs, their perfumes and their clothes, I can still follow the girl's scent perfectly.

  She stops running when she reaches the road that runs along the side of the Thames. She glances back, to see if I have followed. I stay in the shadows, of course, and she doesn't see me. I didn't come after her with the intention of making myself known; I simply wanted to see where she would go, and to learn a little about her. Most of all, perhaps, I was bored. I wanted the thrill of chasing someone, even if she didn't really know she was being chased, and even if at the end of the chase I have chosen not to go for the kill.