Chapter 3: 2 (Part 2) | Ghoul on the Loose

King stared at the scene before him, his eyes unblinking and mouth slightly hanging open. The werewolf stood on its muscular hind legs. It looked formidable, its aura threatening and intimidating. It then inched towards the vampire, who on the other hand was in a sickly state. It was hunched down on the ground.

The vampire lifted its head. It scrunched its face upon seeing the other creature, spittle shooting out of its growling mouth. It extended out its leathery wings, bloodshot eyes looking wild and crazy. Then it let out another high-pitched roar. The werewolf bellowed as a retort before thundering away, body slamming the vampire before it could stand back up on its raptorial feet. They fought, clash driven by claws driving through thick skin and two deadly bolting pairs of fang-rimmed jaws.

King slightly grunted, pain coming in spurts on his lower half, his left leg just like a noodle. He leaned on Douglas, relishing his fur to cool himself, even if it was a bit. Vampires were no banter; the flesh on his leg was wide open. But despite that, his supernatural genetic inspirited him. It could patch him up triple than a human can. He didn't have to worry about the wound; he just had to worry for his life instead.

Suddenly, King went rigid. It wasn't because Pandora had gripped him unannounced, but because her hand was growing, becoming heavier, her skin shedding immensely like bits of sand. King turned his head, just in time to see something he hadn't seen for so long. 

Pandora's skin flaked and upsurged into a sleek pelt, followed by the spurt in height as she allowed her feline to take over and alter her into a female-built cheetah. Fully transformed, she tore her stretched clothes with her now sharp nails without difficulty. 

King gaped at the two humanoids beside him. How could he have forgotten that his cousins could turn into some large bloody jungle cats?

Douglas, Pandora sent through the link. Carry, King, she ordered. Odd for King, who couldn't shift, he could still hear them. 

Pandora then surveyed the two beasts brawling to death in the distance. They needed to move quickly.

Hear that? Douglas puffed. He scooped King up, who glared at him menacingly, and carefully settled him on his nape. Hold on tight, princess.

“Shut up,” King barked. He hissed in pain when his leg throbbed again. Though he was protesting at first, a fraction of him didn't mind being carried by Douglas. The walking leopard's sleek pelt felt extremely good and soft. King leaned forward and buried himself on it.

Let's go, Pandora motioned. Despite the attention-grabbing vendetta between the vampire and werewolf, she pushed them to leave. But only a few steps taken, a bloodcurdling wail pulled their attention back. 

The burnt-brown werewolf had slammed the vampire on the ground. When the latter attempted to rise, the wolf beast wrung its neck. A high-pitched roar screeched out of the vampire's eerily wide mouth when the werewolf's razor claws drove through its weather-bitten skin while strangling it. 

Retaliating, the vampire bared its talons and reached out to claw the werewolf. It landed one quick swipe at its face. Taken aback, the werewolf slightly yelped and momentarily loosened its grip and defense. This gave the bloodsucker an opportunity. It popped out its robust wings and, wham, hurled it against the werewolf, causing the werewolf to be flung away.

With haste, the vampire scrambled up. It screamed, blasting a gust of wind from its ear-splitting screech. Then, it puffed out its wings again and hastily rocketed upwards.

The vampire soared through the sky. But around fifteen to twenty meters up from the ground, it shrieked again. Something had leaped from a tree's peak in the distance and caught its ankle. Something big and ominous. Not able to adjust to the sudden load in time, the vampire dove back to the ground.

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Pandora and Douglas suddenly perked up. Just like magnets, the two shifters pulled back, backs against each other. More presences eroded around them, shuffling and moving from inside the forest, accompanied by the potent scent of werewolves.

The three werecats' attention was partly absorbed again when another ghoul-like scream screeched out of the vampire. The creature which had attacked it was another werewolf, whose pelt was a shade of dark silvery gray. It snarled. It was broader, more robust, and alarming than the first one earlier. But that was the least of the werecats' worries. More prowled in the forest's veil, lurking in the trees' shadows, watching them.

Pandora? Douglas swigged the repeating knots building in his throat. I sincerely would like to hear instructions from you now.

What—

The vampire swung its arm, aiming its razor talons through the werewolf that dragged it back to limbo. But its blows landed on thin air. If werewolves could grin, it entirely looked like it was now.

The vampire lunged again, and the werewolf evaded. Then again. And again.

Seeming to get bored from its petty offense, the werewolf struck next, hurling a powerful blow on the vampire's head. The vampire was thrown to the ground and wasn't even given a chance to react when the werewolf slammed it front-first on the dirt. A piercing shrill left its unnaturally gaping mouth when the werewolf ripped out a wing.

King was nailed on his ground, gaping. A sudden chill slithered up his body. The undead continued screaming, blood the color of rust showering its pale drought skin. Yet, it didn't stop it. It hurled its remaining wing as a retort, but the werewolf easily suppressed it. 

Then, after seizing the vampire's head, the werewolf bit down on its neck.

A weak shriek left the vampire's mouth. It then went into a seizure, small noises, and yellowish spittle shooting out of its mouth as it unintelligibly clawed at the werewolf who refused to let its bite grip go. Bit by bit, its skin sank down to its bones. Then it stopped moving, crisping and withering into a pile of dust that was then scattered by the blow of the wind.

Um... Pandora? Douglas called out again, sensing foreboding trouble. Victorious howls vibrated all around the forest.

Pandora uttered a curse under her breath. These werewolves could or could not be rouges; they don't look one, she thought. They would be lucky if they weren't. But even if they weren't, there was no conviction that the werewolves aren't hostile even to them. However, Pandora knew one thing. She was not losing her family again, even if it costed her her life. 

Now, freed away from the vampire strain, the gray werewolf closed its eyes. It took a slow whiff of the air, pinpointing the scent that had been hounding it since way earlier. It was an essence that so deeply thirsted him — Kain — down to his very core.

The werewolf growled, pushing out low vibrating grunts out of its buff chest as it uttered, "... Mate."

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