Lazarus didn’t know what to say. His eyes flickered between the gun digging into his arm and the man holding it. He noticed the tension in the man’s grip and the determination in his face. That frown was still there.
‘Others?’ Lazarus asked, trying to keep the hunter from hurting him again – he was already in enough pain. His wrists were burning and he realised the handcuffs must have silver on them. The hunter laughed.
‘You’re stupider than you look, dog. The others in your pack, where are they?’
‘Well hey excuse me for being a bit foggy; I am in a lot of pain, you know. I can’t be expected to be able to keep up in this state,’ Lazarus retorted. As he spoke he tasted blood and the taste made him balk. How could Melissa cope having to drink that so often? He ran his tongue over his teeth, pulling a face as he washed the blood off them. He spat the blood out, the mixture of his spit and the blood landing at the man’s feet. This earned him a clip round the back of the head with the side of the gun. Lazarus couldn’t hold back the sharp cry of pain as the metal collided with his skull. ‘Would it not help you more to stop putting me in pain?’ Lazarus asked bitterly.
‘Where are they, Lazarus?’ the man persisted, his cold voice penetrating and clear next to Lazarus’ slurred words.
‘I don’t know.’ He mumbled.
‘What was that? Speak up, dog. Unless you’re only capable of barking?’ the man smirked cruelly and Lazarus stared at the floor, feeling his cheeks burn with humiliation as the man tried to get a rise out of him.
‘I don’t know, I said. I don’t have a pack.’ Lazarus said, raising his voice so the man had no excuse to hit him again.
‘Liar,’ the man growled, pulling back the hammer of his gun. The menacing click made Lazarus’ eyes widen and he looked up at the man.
‘I’m not lying!’ Lazarus pleaded. ‘I don’t have a pack! I didn’t even know I was supposed to have one!’
‘There you go again, lying. C’mon, tell me and I won’t shoot your arm off, okay?’
‘I just told you!’ Lazarus’ voice rose angrily and the man’s finger tightened on the trigger. ‘I don’t have a pack! I’ve been on my own for the last four hundred years! How am I supposed to make you believe me?’ the man hesitated. He stared into the werewolf’s eyes, searching for the truth in them. Though they were dulled with pain, his pale blue orbs were brimming with frightened tears. The man put the safety back on the gun, but he didn’t move it away from Lazarus’ shoulder, pushing it into his flesh harder.
‘If you have no pack,’ the man’s voice was low, threateningly close to Lazarus’ face, ‘then who was with you when you were running through the woods? Hmm? Who was she?’ he watched as the werewolf tensed, his expression betraying him. ‘Someone you care about?’ the man laughed as Lazarus struggled against the handcuffs for the first time, his eyes stormy and angered.
‘She is nothing to do with this! Don’t you dare touch her!’ his shouts echoed off the walls around them, his furious voice reverberating back at him. The man straightened and moved away into the shadows. There was a click, an electrical hum and a flash of blinding fluorescent light. Lazarus squinted around at the newly lit room, watching the man’s movements like a caged animal. The man pulled his phone out and hit a button, holding it up to his ear.
‘Hows it going?’ he asked when the other person had picked up. ‘Good. She’s important to him. Move in as soon as, would you? What?’ the man laughed harshly as the other person spoke. ‘One sec,’ he pulled the phone away from his ear and walked back to Lazarus, pushing another button. ‘Repeat that for our little doggy friend?’ he held the phone in front of Lazarus, holding back his laughter as another voice crackled out of the loud speaker on the phone.
‘She’s with some other guy; they were walking through the town together.’
‘I think we can leave them, then, I think the dog is upset enough to hear she’s with someone else, we don’t need to hurt her now. Come back here. Okay.’ He hung up and let his laughter ring around the brightly lit room.