1068 words (4 minute read)

Chapter 7

They crept along in the shadows. Being bred to hunt meant skulking came naturally to them. While the trail wasn’t exactly warm, it wasn’t cold either. They had found the remains of their predecessors, and while snacking on some of the leftovers (waste not want not) they sniffed around for a scent they could follow. 

There was a bit of fur from the beast, some blood from the target and a trace smell of earth male, although that might not be of much use because the only distinguishing notes to him were fear, alcohol and stale tobacco. So it would have to be the beast and the target. It had taken a bit to find traces of either once they left the alley, but they were patient and soon found what they were looking for.

As they moved further away from lights and people it became easier to follow. She had been dripping blood and the beast’s scent was strong enough it lingered on anything he touched. A lamp post he brushed against or a building he leaned on. Combined with the blood trail it was more than enough for them to follow. 

They were hungry for the kill. It’s what they lived for. They ached for it like sex. If they had been created with imaginations their dreams would have been filled with blood - they would have imagined killing many beings in many interesting ways. However, they weren’t much more than beasts and didn’t even anticipate. They enjoyed killing and killed when and whatever they could. 

When set on a trail they were single minded and wouldn’t stop until either they or their prey were destroyed. Like their predecessors who had been torn apart in the alley they had been modified to pass for human in dim lighting. Their pointy heads had been rounded off and shaved and their club feet covered in chunky boots. The claws at the end of their forelimbs were pulled up into the sleeves of their jackets and they slouched along like any collection of skinheads on a Saturday night. 

The spoor led them deeper into the dark parts of the city. They felt more at home here. Where there was only one street light per block and the shadows grew into pools of darkness. They became little more than moving pieces of black which would occasionally catch the light like a scrap of an almost forgotten nightmare. 

With a patience bred from years of experience they made their way towards the spot the beast’s scent and the blood trail ended. Surprisingly the human male scent overlaid both. They stored its memory for the future - it might be important. But for now what mattered was the target and its companion. As much as they knew caution they understood they would have to be prepared for a fight from him - he had shown himself able to dispatch three of them with little effort.

The scent led up to the door of a building. Yet they couldn’t pick up anything from inside the building. Usually a smell as distinct as the target’s or the beast’s should leak out - waft through the cracks like perfume. But not here. It wasn’t only there was no smell of their prey, there was no smell at all. Nothing. It was as if there wasn’t anything alive once the threshold was crossed.

They were bred not to feel fear, so they didn’t hesitate out of any worry. But, they were troubled by the absence of smell. It interfered with their purpose and prevented them from being who they were supposed to be. On some level their tiny minds registered that without purpose they were nothing. Failure didn’t mean anything to them, but the lack of killing was difficult. So the door opening in front of them didn’t result in any hesitation on their part - they simply walked over the threshold feely confident in their ability to take down almost anything this world had to offer in the way of resistance.

Of course, as they were about to find out, when you’re wrong you’re really wrong no matter who you are. The rather unassuming tall skinny, and rather lacking in flesh, awaiting them in the hallway didn’t look like much, but still some instinct made them hesitate. They might feel fear, but like any animal they had some sort of desire to survive. For the first time, in a long time, they experienced some doubt as to its certainty.

"Hi guys! Goodness me you’re just as ugly as they said you were! Do you really taste as bad as you look?" Its voice sounded delighted, but they weren’t fooled, and they surged forward as one with every intention of ripping it limb from limb. Unfortunately he wasn’t there. Somehow he was behind them.

Long claws had attached themselves to two while fangs had sunk into the neck of the one in the centre. The creature seemed to have morphed into something huge and scaled. Legs like tree trunks supported a torso armoured in overlapping scales. The arms from which one of each of the creatures now dangled were massive, ending in huge taloned appendages that in some universe might have been called hands. 

The head was on the end of a serpent like neck which allowed the being to shake the one clutched in its jaws much like a cat would shake a small mouse. Much like a cat Boneman preferred to play with his prey while it was still alive. So carefully shaking each of the things trapped on the end of his claws and his jaws, making sure they weren’t going to be a problem but still alive, he tried to decide where to play.

He supposed he should really try to find out something about what they were doing here on earth, he was sure Julian, Jannie and that nice young boy would appreciate that, but he wasn’t sure how much the funny things would actually know. Well there was only one thing for it. He’d take them down to the play room and see what was what. He sighed the contented sigh of a being who took great pleasure in his work.

Next Chapter: Chapter 8