Chapter Three
Eight of them. Eight of them against a surprise invasion, and by the looks of it, with only two guns to boot – Elinor's Glock and Ordri's former mate's AK 47, with only a few pitiful rounds of vanadium. Normal bullets seemed to bounce off their skin, as if a magnetic field surrounded their bodies. Werewolf teeth, jaws and vanadium were what inflicted irreparable damage.
Ordri's breath hissed in her throat as they descended into the secret passage, built possibly centuries before by the Vordomir family, back in the days when they once held noble status, before being stripped of it by the current ruling families. Cobwebs draped the stone walls, and dust stirred under their clattering footsteps as they packed themselves into darkness. The passage split into three, and they took the middle one.
“This doesn't,” Filip wheezed, gnashing on the words through his feral jaws, “lead to a dead end, does it? Because I'm afraid that might make things rather difficult.”
Ordri let out a hysterical laugh, which reverberated in the thin corridor. “No. It leads to a former treasury, and then there's another passage that ascends into the woods which are to the rear of the property. The only problem is, we might still be caught in their net.”
“Why don't we hold them off in the corridor?” Bron whispered, his voice scratching the shadows. “It's thin enough. In the open we are more exposed. We could stage a resistance down here, through these winding tunnels. Look at it.”
The tunnel became narrow, forcing the largest of the male to shuffle sideways. Ordri became hesitant as she toyed with Bron's idea. For once, the albino might actually have something, and she sensed the others contemplating the idea as well.
“It's true,” Yanus said, his voice measured and calm. “In the woods, we can either make a run for it, or reach our vehicles. But we don't know the enemy's position. Only that they have encircled the building, and it is likely their greatest force yet. Our allies will take too long, perhaps.”
“I am afraid I cannot fight nor run fast,” Filip said then, his voice wisping, cracking. “If we run, I should remain behind. I should not be in a position to jeopardize the young.”
“We're not leaving you behind,” Kostya snapped, along with Sebastian's stubborn agreement.
“You must prepare for the possibility,” Filip snapped back. “We are, after all, in peril.”
That was accurate, Ordri thought, thinking about the fact that eight fully grown werewolves had stuffed themselves into this narrow tunnel, clacking jaws at one another as they decided what their best chance of survival might be. All had at least agreed that remaining in the house or leaving the house would have been tantamount to disaster. A hand groped for hers in the damp tunnel, and with a shock, she realized it to be Bron's. This huge, furry titan of a werewolf was comforting her. Intending to live up to his promise of protection. It made her smile. She could have been claimed by a werewolf much worse than this one, who seemed more naïve rather than brittle and cruel.
“You know, Bron, if we get out of this, I'm planning to reward you later.”
“Is that so?” he replied, with a suggestive growl
“Oh, God. Please, no,” Kostya said. “Not now. Just no.”
“Oh, let them be. They may die,” Filip said, adding a darker twist to the narrative.
“Thanks,” Ordri said sourly to her grandfather. “You have this way of just brightening the mood, don't you?”
“Okay. Let me change it. Everyone will be fine and we're not in any trouble at all.”
“Grandpa...” Sebastian sighed, even as Elinor let out a low chuckle.
They finally reached the original treasury room, which was now threadbare except for a preparation table and several rusty tools for sawing wood and perhaps skinning animals. Ordri examined the worn tools, not detecting anything that might help them with their cause. They were isolated and pinned into a secret passage, with no clue how many or where all foes lingered.
The tension became palpable, as Ordri risked venturing down one more lonely tunnel, and peeked through the locked trapdoor at the end. Inching it open so she could peer through a crack, with leaves and earth debris tumbling into the passageway, she instantly spotted five ferals loitering around the woods, and heard one of them bark at the others in Russian.
Well, shit. She discreetly closed the door, carefully locked it again, and crept along the passageway into the treasury.
“Yeah, we're not getting out that way.”
Filip's lips curled in scorn. “Then we will fight. Best shooters, take guns.”
“Best fighters,” Elinor said, jabbing her fingers at the males, “will fight in pairs at choke points if possible.”
Ordri reached for Bron's hand and squeezed it again. “I have a feeling Bron might be the strongest of us,” she said, and she meant it. After seeing him take down three fully grown werewolves in the blink of an eye, she didn't think her belief misplaced.
Sebastian examined Bron. “He does look like he's been sculpted out of granite, doesn't he?”
“A snow demon,” Elinor murmured, which made Bron's hairs stand on end. He didn't like being called demon, Ordri suspected.
Their lives on the line, they hastily set up choke points, even as thumps and shouts could be heard from above, as the invaders ransacked the house.
“I know you're here!” One invader shrieked, followed by the sound of smashing glass. “You can't have gotten far, little cowards.”
Kostya growled softly. Ordri positioned herself with Elinor and Filip, guarding the back entrance, and wielding the only two guns in their arsenal. Elinor was designated as the free roamer, to oversee the whole operation, whilst the males held their chokepoints – Bron in front. Ordri intended to protect the elderly Filip, who insisted he had some bite left to him.
All Ordri could do now was pray, and hope they all made it through this ordeal alive.
Funny, to think the potential future of the Bulgarian werewolf clans might be decided in a tiny passage in the middle of nowhere. People were still mortal at the end of the day, werewolf or not. If only she hadn't asked them to come here, and instead insisted on the Gregorovitch residence or the Spirova fortress. If only she had waited, because damnit, there was conflict boiling in their region. Dumb to think they might not have spies tracking the movement of the leaders, or that the leaders wouldn't be keen on testing the newcomer in their clan dynamics, to ensure he wasn't a backdoor infiltrator.
If only.