Chapter 2 - The Cynocephali

From beneath a bridge flames licked towards the stars, reflecting in the eyes of destitutes huddled around an old barrel. The fire cast deep shadows against the concrete pylons supporting the bridge while its reflection danced upon the dark water of the river. From within those shadows, eyes watched carefully.

The sound of a truck rumbling over the bridge momentarily quieted the group of men and women circling the fire, their hands outstretched to receive the life-sustaining warmth. "Geezus, it sure is a nasty night," said Art Haddock. "I feel sorry for any poor soul caught out in that storm."

A wino sitting a slightly away from the fire took a swig from his wine bottle, and said, "Yeah, the might get caught by that wolf-man."

Art shook his head, "You really believe those crazy stories? C'mon, this is reality... There aren't any monsters under the bed. You've been drinking too much again, Cap'n."

The wind intensified, making the flames jump and scattering the shadows momentarily. From the corner of his eye Art caught a flash of metal, but before he could tell what it was the shadows had returned with the momentary calm of the wind. He peered into the darkness shrouding the pylons and began walking towards them, intent on what he had seen.

A loud crack broke through the noise of the storm and Art felt something hit him in the shoulder, spinning him around and sending him to the ground. Then the pain hit. A searing blast radiated out from his shoulder, like fire consuming him. It spread, flowing throughout his body and leaving him a shuddering mass on the pavement.

Through half-closed eyes Art could see his friends falling, cut down by a hail of lead that flew out from the shadows. His eyes took in a vision of red as bodies fell, decimated by the onslaught. It was over in seconds. A dozen figures in black suits stepped out of the shadows carrying various weapons of death, from large pistols to assault rifles. One raised a walkie-talkie to his mouth, "Area secured, ready for shipment." A burst of static came back, and then a voice. "Roger."

An interminable amount of time later a rumbling was heard coming down the ramp to the landing under the bridge. Through clouded vision Art could see a large truck filled with green drums slowly making its way towards the river. As the vehicle reached the landing the armed soldiers opened the gate on the truckbed and began unloading the barrels, lining them up on the pavement.

Into Art's rapidly fading vision stepped a large man with a mane of reddish-brown hair dressed in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. What drew Art's attention were his eyes, eyes which began to glow an eerie yellow. A growl began to grow in his throat, a low, dangerous sound that barely carried to where Art lay. The man crouched in the shadows and began to watch.

"Is this the last of this shit, Trev?" asked one of the men as they finished unloading the barrels some time later.

"Yeah, the rest of the crap is being set aside for the government to dispose of so they're kept happy. It's just so much cheaper to just dump it in-" Trev's sentence went unfinished as his eyes caught sight of the large man stepping into the light. A growl escaped from the man's throat which carried clearly over the wind this time. Trev's eyes were caught by the man's mesmeric gaze as the rest of the soldiers tensed and turned to see what Trev was looking at. When they only saw an unarmed man the soldiers relaxed.

The large man's eyes dimmed as he spoke, "If you leave now and take your poisons with you, you can live." A hint of sadness could be heard in his voice if one listened. The soldiers weren't interested in listening.

One of the women looked at him with contempt and sneered, "Damn goodies, you make me sick." She drew her gun, pointing it at the interloper. "What are you going to do, huh? What, you little environmental hero?" she said mockingly. "Nothing, that's what."

The woman pulled the triger and her .44 Magnum fired, sending a slug into the stomach of the interloper. The man didn't even flinch. The gunwoman's eyes widened as the interloper's eyes brightened and the wound disappeared, leaving only a tear in his shirt. With a beastial snarl the man leapt towards her, hands outstretched like claws.

In midleap the man began to change. His features began to melt and rearrange themselves as if made of wax. His face lengthened into a muzzle and his limbs shortened. Claws sprouted from what were now paws and his mouth was a mass of fangs, bared and ready. His hair lengthed and thickened, becoming a lustrous coat of hair covering his body and absorbing his clothes.

Art's last moments were filled with the screams of dying men and a hazy vision of blood and hair as the wolf exacted terrible revenge on murderers of its Mother.

With his last strength Art opened his eyes to a scene of horror. Bodies were scattered across the landing, torn to pieces. And that thing was approaching him, once more a man. Art cringed in terror, believing that it had come to kill him.

With infinite tenderness the man knelt next Art and cradled Art's head in his hands. Art could see the tears streaming down the man's face and felt a burst of sorrow so deep that it was more than he could stand. The man bowed his head slowly and pressed his lips to Art's forehead, a kiss goodbye. Art's vision faded and his limbs went limp as he died in the large man's arms.

The man knelt, cradling Art's cooling body and a shiver passed through him as he felt Art's soul departing. A piteous howl erupted from his throat, a howl containing the sorrow of lifetimes and the anger of centuries.

Music blared out of the speaker stacks on each side of the stage as a mass of humanity writhed on the floor. Smoke flowed across the stage and lights played across the club leaving a riot of images burnt into one's vision. Lovers whispered in each other's ears while across the room souls were sold for a quick fix.

Running along the length of the back wall was a long chrome bar which transcended all elements of good taste. Large mirrors hung everywhere and neon lighting was severely overused. On the whole, the place was distasteful and disgusting.

Adam Walker loved it. No matter what mood he was in, he could come to the club, sit at the godawful bar and drink godawful drinks, all the while thinking, "I may have a shitty life, but I'd hate to be these people." Tonight was such a night.

Adam wallowed in his beer, staring at the amber liquid and thanking God he wasn't one of those people throwing themselves at each other on the dance floor. He was still thinking such thoughts when a man came down and sat next to him and ordered a Löwenbrau's. The new arrival turned on his stool and studied Adam for a few moments, and then said, "You don't look too happy, my friend."

Adam looked up from studying the bubbles in his drink and saw a large man with reddish brown hair. "Oh, hello, Lothar. I didn't really notice you," he said with a wan smile.

"Long night, Adam?"

"Yeah, there was a bloodsucker that I had to take care of. He was making a meal out of some stupid college kid. The stupid kid was hanging out in some alley... should have been back in his cradle."

"Damn, you'd think that people would realize that it's not safe on the streets at night. I guess that more people will have to be killed before they realize that...

"I have some disturbing news, my friend. I've been keeping an eye on Andromeda Enterprises and tonight I found them dumping chemicals into the river. I've suspected them for a long time but I'd never seen them do it. That's not the bad part though. Some homeless folk were staying under the bridge tonight due to the storm and Andromeda's private soldiers slaughtered every last one of them. I took care of the scum... but not in time," he said mournfully. "One of the homeless, an old man, died in my arms. He should have lived longer, but those bastards killed him just like they're killing our Mother!"

Adam's anger intensified as the large amounts of alcohol flowing through his veins went to work. "Andromeda Enterprises is dumping waste? Jesus, I ought to go kill their CEO now... How the hell can someone just dump poison into the river like that? It's killing people for chrissakes," he ranted as he took another swig of his drink.

"I don't know, Adam. You humans constantly amaze me. My kind revere our Mother and try to protect Her. Your kind... You seem to hate Her at times, doing your best to kill Her. However I must say that I have met few of your kind with as much passion as yourself. Few are willing to sacrifice everything you save our Mother."

Adam nodded slowly, "You know, you're right. I am one unique sonfabitch. How many other people would kill their wife, the woman they loved?" Adam's face began to crumble and tears began to fill his eyes as he spoke.

Lothar looked shocked, "Adam, you know that you didn't kill her! She was dead before you even saw her. There's nothing you could have done! You've got to stop blaming yourself for that!"

Adam looked up with red-rimmed eyes, "I know that it wasn't my fault, but it's so much easier at times to just make myself believe that I did rather than face reality." Adam sobbed and then smiled sadly, "You know what kids are saying now? Reality bites. They have no idea."

Lothar shook his head, knowing not to try to stop his friend during such episodes. Past experience had shown that it was better to encourage Adam and purge his system of the depression. "C'mon, Adam, let's get drunk," he said with a forced grin.