Toward Battle

He ran amazingly quick and hard, a taut silent lightening streaking across streets, through yards, over roofs and down the alleyways of San Francisco, just as he’d done every month since he was bitten, nearly died himself and had turned into a night thing; the night they’d killed his daughter; and taken everything he held dear from him.


Lorne felt his jaw lock into place, bubbling wet saliva drooling and then streaming sideways from his massive head as he launched himself into the fog jammed air and nicely cleared a car traveling up the hill. The occupants were not even aware he was there - that hungry death, with huge shiny teeth soared over, mere inches from the warmth of their dimly-lit interior. He sensed the heartbeats and smelled their scent as he passed them over; choosing not to feast on their meaty hearts – this night.


Why he hadn’t picked up the sense and scent of his enemy before this he did not know and did not care. Maybe it was what happened tonight, but something set it off, something that came with the heightened senses he had now – with his new self – gave him the vision and now made him want revenge worse than anything he had ever wanted!


Whatever he was dashing toward, he reasoned somewhere deep inside that it could be dangerous; but it was too late, “he” was not he anymore… but instead a vicious heaving muscled primal thing – with something “he” couldn’t describe moving it forward – beyond all reason. Seared into his mind’s eye were the amazing brutality of the kill and the surprise of this adversary. He knew instinctively he was going after something he needed so desperately - something breathing and dangerous for the moment; something he’d shred open, warm and wet. He was hurdling through the dark shadows to set upon this obsession without emotion, without fear or caution.


His muscles ached in a good way as unfathomable amounts of beastly energy poured faultlessly into the run; fueled by hot breath piping in and out of rasping lungs. Moving down a ridge and leaping effortlessly over an iron fence, he moved down to a wall beside the sidewalk and as he went onto the sidewalk and off again in the silence of a single dark moment, the only indication he’d ever been there was when he slightly scraped the side of a no-parking sign; causing it to wobble back and forth at his passing as if it had suddenly taken on a life of its own. If any human had been on that sidewalk, at that particular moment, they’d have felt a dark chill surge up their spine at his passing; and nothing else.


As he sharply rounded a corner he suddenly felt the hair up and down his spine and on his neck rise and spike upwards. Not three hundred yards in front of him, he could clearly see a garage, with windows and a green door. His eyes flashed red and bright as he covered the last bit of ground between him and combat; his mind filled with desperate lusty rage and visions of a Rebecca he could barely fathom in this state.

The End

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