She straightened her shoulders, and a wave of confidence washed through her as she clenched her jaw and proceeded to join other workers who had already started with their work. That was her chance to pick up clues. She wouldn’t let fear stop her from getting to the truth.
There were crates heaped over around the building. There were stacks and stacks of them, and they were sorted into groups by the workers. Her mind echoed with her first plan.
‘Find out what’s in those crates…’
She spotted a group of women who worked silently at the corner and moved to join them. Upon reaching them, she observed them and took a step back, frightened by their callous eyes and massive size.
They all seemed to sense her at the same time because they paused immediately, their hands falling limply by their side and their eyes peering at her.
She met their gazes briefly, hating the dread and helplessness that washed over her. Something was not right.
Something was wrong with the atmosphere. Or was it the people? Emma thought they all seemed different, too different from fitting into the ordinary world. Her gaze slid over to them one after the other, their eyes beaming in the dark. With no doubt, she knew they were not like her. But what were they?
Her heart hammered in her chest and she stood motionless as the women stared at her. They were saying nothing, but they all seemed to be thinking collectively. They didn’t know who she was yet, but she was certain that they were suspicious of her.
One of the women who seemed to be older than the rest suddenly stood up and walked towards Emma. Her movement was swift and graceful as she walked in circles around her, observing and sniffing her.
The gathered workers watched them with a look of hunger that left Emma frightened. It was bad enough that she was sniffed, that she was about to be caught, but did they have to look at her like she was some sort of animal? If looks could kill, she would have dropped dead in a second.
While all this was happening, she swallowed the urge to speak. If she was truly different from them, speaking would give her away immediately. But just like her mind was read, the woman who had been sniffing her threw her a question.
“Where do you come flom?...” She asked, taking a step back from Emma, her eyes not leaving her for once.
Emma opened her mouth to speak, but the words were struggling at the back of her throat. She was doomed. But she had practiced, over and over. She had listened to the tapes and recordings taken during some interrogations with some workers. She knew they rolled their ‘S’ and often replaced their ‘l’ with an ‘r’ and vice versa, but could she speak clearly like them? Their voices were rather thick, hers was crisp and girly in every form.
“Work. I have come for work…” She responded slowly, imitating them the best way she could. If there was something she had learned from the tapes, they always had vague answers to questions. No matter what they were asked, they either gave too much or too few details, far from the answer required. She had often wondered if there were all eccentrics.
Emma found herself hoping that her disguised appearance and fake accent were enough to earn her a vote of recognition, as the women stared at her intensely. She prayed, with all of her beings, that she didn’t look as different as she felt. That they would somehow believe that she was one of them. But her prayers weren’t answered.
“Imposter… Human!...” The woman finally breathed. “Imposter within us!...” This time, she yelled, taking a step towards her with clenched fists.
Emma shook her head forcefully, retreating as everyone began to gather around her. “No! I am not an imposter.” She yelled. It wasn’t true. She was skinny, shorter than the smallest among them, and human in every way.
“You dare rie…” One of the women thundered. “Filthy human…” Perfect. She had made things worse.
As much as Emma struggled to understand them even in the face of danger, she couldn’t. They kept referring to her as human. What were they? She staggered, trying to keep her shaking legs beneath her as she retreated slowly. There was no way she could fight them off. She was outnumbered. One to nearly a hundred.
“Stop!..” A deep voice boomed across the crowd gathered around her. It rang with authority and a note of command that stopped even Emma abruptly in her tracks. The crowd stepped aside to reveal a tall man, with an impassive look on his face.
Callus Silvan.
Though she didn’t know much about the organization’s stronghold, she had carefully investigated the leader, the ruthless man who oversaw all the operations within and outside the organization. He was definitely not a man to be messed with.
He stood casually, his eyes highlighting his dangerous and ruthless looks. His eyes were bright and eerily focused upon her as she stood motionlessly.
“She wirr come with me…” Emma heard him say. Apparently, if the rumors she heard about him were true, she was a dead woman. “Work is over. I sharr get lid of her and tomollow, we sharr continue…”
Emma bristled, her heart hammering. One by one, everyone began to pour out of the warehouse. She watched in fear as the workers threw spiteful looks at her before they moved out. Soon, she would be left alone with Callus. What did he intend to do with her?
Maybe she would have a chance to subdue and interrogate him. She would be alone with him. She had a chance. Her mind raced with thoughts, and she struggled to regulate them.
Unfortunately, she was not left alone with him. About ten men had stayed behind on Callus’s command, circling and eyeing her like she was auctioned for sale. She could hear her heart beating, her hands were perspiring as she thought of a way to save herself.
Her mind was steering all sorts of things she liked to keep away. But she needed all the ideas and brutality in the world if she was going to survive. Ten meters, or more as she figured it, people were surrounding her. Eleven. Her eyes counted them. And they were staring at her with such hostility that sent shivers down her spine. She had her gun, and it was loaded with bullets. But how fast would she be able to shoot eleven men scattered around the room? It was impossible. Nonetheless, she had to try. She had to save herself. They were still watching her. Whatever was keeping them from attacking her was far beyond Emma’s reasoning. Maybe they were aroused by her defenseless looks and just viewed her as a lump of fresh, tender meat. Whatever, she would have to use their underestimation as her strength. It happened in a second. She reached and pulled her gun, but he was faster than her, faster and stronger. She didn’t even have a second to aim, Callus had launched himself towards
Before she could grasp what was happening, Emma heard the crunching of bones and a wet slapping sound similar to that of a skin stretching. Her attacker’s features became more feral, their eyes changing and their faces contorting. Their fingers thickened, becoming dangerous claws, and their ears swooped back. They became a bit taller than they were, their feet growing longer and ankles raised off the ground. Loud grunts and snarls filled the room as their teeth extended into fangs and fur burst across their form. Emma watched fearsomely as they transformed into creatures she had never seen in her life. Eleven horrible creatures were crouching and circling their prey, who were standing undisturbed by their transformation. Their humaneness was replaced by beastly features. Whoever or whatever the man was, he was not frightened by them. But it wasn’t a fair fight, and he didn’t transform like them. Emma shuddered, struggling to keep her composure as she watched them standing in an
Standing in the middle of destruction, his chest rising and falling, Clyde slowly raised his black vacant eyes to meet his mate who had watched him tear apart limbs and heads. She was coiled in a corner, her eyes screaming fear. He took a step closer, disappearing into the darkness for only a brief moment before reappearing only inches away from her. He was standing before her, his soulless black eyes staring into hers. She was unable to suppress her fear and trembled beneath him. He couldn't discern if she was terrified of the massive head he held like a trophy or his demeanor. He didn't have to know that. All he knew was that she was terrified of him. He didn't blame her. He killed eleven men, who she watched transform into unknown creatures far from humans. He didn't kill them with a gun or knife like she intended. No. He had ripped off their heads with his hands, bathing himself with the blood of her enemies. She should, of course, be terrified of him. Power flushed through
Emma's eyelid fluttered, then flew open. She was covered in a cold sweat, her heart pounding as she glanced around the room, paranoid that the horror in her dream may have followed her back. Fortunately, she was alone. A low groan escaped her lips as she tried to turn on the bed. She was hurting, but she hadn't realized it until then. She stared down at herself. She was still fully dressed. She had been sleeping on her bed, in her brightly colored room flooded with light. But something wasn't right. The first indication of that was her bruised body. Her head ached with pain and her neck had weird scratch marks. She didn't remember getting into a fight or changing into the pajamas she had woken up with. The second was her bedsheet, which was covered in blood stains. Looking around her room, her eyes caught her overall, lying close to the bathroom door, and the memories of her night flooded her mind instantly. She hadn't been dreaming. It was all real. The attack, the creatures, th
She muttered something under her breath as she walked into the building, mentally prepared to face her boss and partner. But as she walked in, the chaos and tension in the air told her that she might after all slip and walk away unnoticed. Emma watched as people darted back and forth within the department. Heads were huddled together in a corner as they spoke in low tones discussing an event or occurrence that seemed to hold much importance. Her boss was speaking to someone on the phone, pacing hurriedly in his office and her partner's attention was undivided as he read through files. 'Serial Killer...' her ears picked up from the group in the corner. Emma swallowed heavily, she had no idea what had happened but she knew it was devastating. She prayed silently, that it wasn't as gruesome as everyone's reaction made it seem.Walking to her partner at his desk, she greeted him. "Morning Allen, How are you?..."Looking up at her, he replied immediately. "Where have you been all morning
She remembered how these men had transformed into weird creatures before her eyes. She remembered how they howled and fought like beasts. She had remembered the furs, the extended limbs and the claws. But yet, none of the pictures captured these details. Was she hallucinating? It was impossible to believe otherwise as she stared at the pictures of eleven murdered humans. "I'm leaving..." Emma jumped in surprise as Allen tapped her shoulders. "Are you okay?.." He asked, observing her shocked expression. "Ummmm...Yeah..." She lied. "I was just reading through the files. This is a very bizarre case...""Well, the autopsy results would be ready tomorrow and we'll probably have a lead..." He sighed. "For now, I'm heading home...""Ok. I'm just going to stay back for a while..." Emma said leaning casually against her chair. "I think I have some other files to review..."Allen nodded, then strode hurriedly away. There were several thoughts in her mind as she watched him leave. She shook he
Clyde took a brisk step backwards, letting himself sit comfortably on her bed. "You might want to sit down for this....""No, thank you..." "It's your bedroom, Emma Watson..." He replied with an injured expression. "You should sit...""No. I. Don't. Want. To. Sit. On. The. Bed..." She replied firmly. "Or close to you..." She finally breathed. "Why? You think I'm a monster?..." He was amused. Did she think backing away from him could stop him if he desired to kill her? She would have been dead the minute she walked in if he intended to kill her. She blinked. "You killed those men..." It wasn't a question. He didn't think so. It was an affirmation that she did think of him as a monster. "Did I commit a crime?...""The murders are being investigated...""Are they now?..." The air in the room seemed to drop a few degrees. There was a slight tone of mockery and mischief in his last question. Her words were clipped. "I ask again..." She drew her breath. "What are you doing here?...""I
He didn't intend to transform fully for fear that she would pass out. He just had to show her that he wasn't what he looked like. Clyde watched as she took unwilling steps backwards as his werewolf features began to surface. She was nearly wheezing, nearly hyperventilating as his bones began to crunch. He watched as she tried to remain brave but she was coming apart. Her eyes were wide, her nostrils flared with the force of rapid breathing. She jumped with fright as a low growl escaped his mouth. With just a little transformation, Emma only stared at him motionlessly. He had expected her to scream, he had been prepared to stifle a thundering cry for help. But she however did neither. She remained unmoving, her eyes focused on him. Sensing that she had seen enough of what he intended for her to see, Clyde began to slowly shift back to his human form. He was surprised that she hasn't flung her purse at him or run out. But perhaps, because she had seen worse within the past hours. E